A/N: The following story is an exploration of the amazing world created by Robert Jordan, may he shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and the last embrace of the mother welcome him home. It is a poor tribute to him, and to Brandon Sanderson, who did an amazing job writing 'The Gathering Storm'. I own nothing. This fanfic itself was inspired by Shezza88's 'Altered Destiny' and the portal stone scene in The Great Hunt, where Rand lives many different lives.
This fic was uploaded about a year ago, and then later taken down. So if it seems familiar, there you go.
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
The wind breezed eastwards beyond the mountains, down into the rough land known as the Two Rivers, and through the small village known as Emond's Field. The air was warm, but not uncomfortably so; the wind caressed the skin and balanced out the temperature. Zephyrs lightly kissed the skin of the men and women it touched, a welcome thing on any day of hard work. And hard work it was. It was shearing day, one of no more than five days of the year that so many people of the village gathered: at Bel Tine, which was past; when the merchants came to buy the wool, still a month or more off-, when the merchants came for the harvest's tabac, after Sunday; at Foolday, in the fall; and at shearing, like today.
Of all five days, shearing was the busiest, at least in the sense that everyone was doing hard work. For example a feastday, such as Bel Tine, might be busy, though while some would work on such a day to prepare the festival, most others would be busy enjoying themselves.
That was not to say that Shearing day itself was a difficult or tedious affair of course, but the day's own merriment would be had later, once the important work was done and the tables for the feast were set. For now, the men, women and children all had their own jobs to do.
The women and many of the older girls prepared the tables for the feast that would be later had, and the children gathered water in buckets from the stream, and wandered the village offering the refreshments to the workers that needed it.
Half of the grown men stood knee-deep down river, washing the sheep in preparation for the shearing, while the other half carried the process out away from the river. Between the two groups, in the middle of a meadow, the boys aged twelve and older watched those sheep that had not yet been shorn, and those who had been finished with.
One of those boys stood at the front of the makeshift paddock, his light weight half resting on a small piece of wood he was using as a staff, as he had seen some of the men do, as he scanned the fields for any troublemakers. His name was Rand al'Thor. He was slightly taller than most of the other boys his age, hinting at a future formidable stature. With red hair and blue eyes, he stood out from most of the others. In the Two Rivers, people usually possessed dark hair and dark eyes, and anything different would be considered quite unusual. His mother had been an outlander though, which was quite unusual in itself. Few people ever left the Two Rivers, and yet his father had done so when he was a young man and brought back a wife.
At thirteen years of age, Rand was watching the sheep for the first time this year. It was an important thing, Rand thought, watching after the sheep. Sometimes they would get restless and try to roam, and with no grown-ups around it would be his and his friends' responsibility to stop them from getting away. And since sheep were such an important part of life, that surely meant that the boys who were looking after them were important too. The thought made him stand up straighter, proud to be helping out.
Behind him though, one of his friends grumbled about the heat, obviously not quite so proud. Though he was no younger than Rand, Matrim Cauthon seemed to thoroughly despise any position of seriousness. Rand knew he would much rather be in the village, trying to pilfer honeycakes and other sweets undetected than working hard, even on a day as important as shearing.
Finally, after yet another exasperated, he turned around "For Light's sake Mat, a couple hours of hard work won't kill you". His face narrowed in annoyance. Mat was one of his closest friends, but there were times when he could aggravate him.
Mat sullenly leaned on his own staff and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Are you joking?" he panted "if it was any hotter I'd be walking around in my smallclothes".
Rand felt his irritation war with a little amusement. Abruptly he clamped down on it. Shearing day was no time for jokes!
"All we have to do is stop the sheep from wandering away from the field" he pointed out "its important work, but it's not too hard, what else could you want?"
Mat rolled his eyes "A drink of water would be a great start". Rand nearly groaned, even without checking Master al'Vere's clock in the village, he knew they couldn't have been working for more for than an hour or so.
He let out a sigh "You might as well go get one then". Mat gave him a sidelong, considering glance before nodding. "Won't be long" he said, and promptly turned away to stride off towards the village square. Rand would bet his best pair of boots that he wouldn't be back until he'd not only drank his fill, but also managed to steal or beg a pastry for himself. The thought soured his mood considerably.
He looked after his friend's receding form, wondering if he too should tempt fate. After a long moment he shook his head; he never did seem to have Mat's own luck when talking to women. Whether they were mothers or girls his own age, he'd likely ask for a honeycake and be dragged off to the Wisdom to be punished for avoiding his chores. Mat of course, would give a small smile and apologise almost tearfully, only to be reassured that no one was angry with him.
He grumbled, his prior good mood completely gone. Life was so unfair.
"Hello Rand" a quiet voice said, breaking into his thoughts. Rand blinked, and turned to the side. "Hello Perrin" he said, nodding a greeting. Perrin nodded in return, and Rand felt slightly comforted by the presence of his other close friend. They were both somewhat reserved at times, so they understood each other better than most of the children in the Two Rivers did.
Perrin Aybara was almost the opposite of Mat. He was big for their age and quiet. "I thought you were going to be spending the day with Master Luhhan" Rand said frowning. Perrin shrugged "He decided to help out with the shearing, and I'm not old enough to help him do that". Rand nodded. "Well" he began "it's good to see you, Mat ran off for a drink and probably won't be back until-" "All the work is done" Perrin finished. He grinned at Rand and waved his hands, as if to say 'What can you do?' Rand smiled back.
As the day dragged on the two boys sat down on the grass; the sheep seemed fairly docile today, and they had grown tired. Some of the other boys joined them, feeling just as weary. Soon they started discussing such things as what they hoped to buy from the peddler the next time he came to the village, or wondered aloud about what kinds of food would be at the feast. Rand was just about to tell Perrin why an apple-pie was better than the blueberry variety when they were interrupted.
"Hey Rand" Dannil Lewin called "did ya hear, you're going to have a new mother soon". Rand's mouth tightened. "What are you talking about?" he said, narrowing his eyes. Dannil just laughed. "Elam said so" he said with a smirk, nodding to his companion. Elam Dowtry blushed, he didn't like confrontations, and this was no exception. "Leave off Dannil" he said sullenly, "I was just repeating what my mother said".
Rand stepped forward, growing angrier by the moment. "What's this then?" he demanded loudly "what did she say?" Elam only hesitated.
Dannil laughed again. "Apparently all the women in the village think that you and Tam need help looking after yourself" he said, laughing again "so they're trying to find Tam a new wife and a new mother for you".
Rand's fists tightened, and gritted his teeth. All of his life, he'd had to grow up without a mother, while every other boy and girl in Emond's Field his age had been lucky enough to have two parents. It had been very hard for him, and it was his only sore point. Normally people didn't bring it up, but he hated it when they did.
Perrin knew Rand well enough to know when he was angry, which didn't happen as often as most of the boys. That was another thing that they had in common. "Leave off Dannil" he said sharply "that isn't funny". Dannil spread his hands as if to say it had only been a joke, but the mirthful smile didn't leave his face.
Rand didn't care if it had only been a joke, Dannil might not know how much it hurt to have jokes made about the fact you don't have a mother, but that didn't change the fact that it still hurt. He stepped forward and curled his little hands into fists, as if he was going to thump him. Rand felt white-hot anger bubble up inside of him, and he lunged at Dannil, who hastily jumped backwards. Rand's fist missed him and he overbalanced, falling to the ground. Most of the other boys laughed, and when Rand looked up, he saw Dannil standing a couple paces back with crossed arms and a smug smile.
Rand gritted his teeth, humiliated and angry. He saw Dannil's lips move but he couldn't hear what he was saying over the blood pounding in his head.
He felt his skin prickle, and he imagined hitting Dannil hard enough to make him be quiet, be sorry. He imagined it in vengeful detail, knocking back the other boy and making him stop laughing. He could see it happening, and wanted it to happen. Almost in response, he felt something brush against his hand, like the breeze or a cobweb, but different. Without any thought to what he was doing, Rand pushed out his hand towards his tormentor.
Dannil, who was several paces away from him, should have been completely unaffected. Instead, he jerked as if struck and went tumbling backwards, turning an awkward backwards roll along the ground before landing in an awkward heap. There was an audible crack when he landed, and he screamed before fainting.
Rand's anger rapidly subsided, only to be quickly replaced by a sense of bewilderment. He dropped to one knee amidst the cries and gasps of the boys around him, dazed. His scalp felt as if it had been split open, as if he'd been hit on top of the head with a heavy club. After hearing a scream from behind him, he craned his neck to see a group of farmers throwing down their shearers and running towards him.
Rand shook his head, trying to understand what was happening. Dannil had just flown backwards. He hadn't even touched him! Beside him, Perrin stood as still as a statue, his skin pale and his mouth open. The rest of the boys ran in fear behind the men. Tam, Rand's father, was the first to approach.
Rand looked up at him, still in shock. Amidst the curses and frantically recited oaths of the other adults, he heard a single word. Tam fixed his worried eyes on his son and muttered, seeming to himself "channeling".
It was all too much for Rand; he felt himself grow faint and staggered towards his father. The last thing he saw was Tam leaping to catch him as he lost balance and fell forward, into blackness.
Rand struggled open his eyes. It was difficult, he was incredibly tired and his eyelids felt heavy. He fought for a moment, finally managing to crack them partway open. He saw blurry, distant figures; his father, Mayor Bran al'Vere and several other members of the village council. He vaguely thought he heard snatches of their conversation, but it could have just been his imagination.
"... broken arm, and some cracked ribs".
"...we do now?"
"The only thing we c-"
"He's my son Bran!"
"...ashes Tam, we all have children".
"But he-"
"... done is done, the messenger has already been sent".
Rand struggled to open his mouth, to ask what was done, but he couldn't move. He was just so tired. He finally shifted himself an inch to the side, but when his head moved he was struck by an intense dizziness, and fell back into the darkness.
He had strange dreams while he was sleeping. It was shaky, and he felt as if he was moving, even though he was lying down. He saw of a number of scowling women with red shawls and harsh faces. They looked down at him, muttering words he didn't understand and talking amongst themselves. It seemed as if they truly hated him, even though he didn't know any of them.
One of the women stood nearer than the others, and she kept touching him like he'd seen the Wisdom do sometimes to injured villagers, as if she thought he were sick. That seemed wrong to him somehow, if she was a wisdom and she thought he was sick, wouldn't she look concerned or busy? This woman looked almost relieved. He couldn't think, his head still hurt too much.
They kept poking him, and he flailed about, trying to knock them away. He tried to knock them back like he thought he did to Dannil, but he couldn't remember how and he was too sluggish. He was easily held down during the dreams, but he kept struggling.
He felt hot, as if he had a fever, but worse, almost like he was burning alive. Eventually they stopped prodding him, and after that he cooled down a little. Eventually he was terribly cold, shivering violently. If he had been in his right mind, that might have seemed strange, to be burning up and then becoming terribly cold so quickly, but he was dreaming, so what did it matter?
That wasn't the only dream he had. He had nightmares of dozens of strange terrifying creatures that walked upright like men, but had snarling animal heads and were covered in fur. They feasted together, fought each other, sometimes watched by a single man bundled up in a black cloak, sometimes not.
His vision went black, and he saw images flashing by; Perrin, Mat, Egwene, a girl he thought he liked, Nynaeve, the village Wisdom.
He saw flashes of his father's face, then his mother's, whom he only distantly remembered. Last of all was a beautiful woman with golden hair who he didn't recognise. She smiled at him sadly, unshed tears in her eyes.
Slowly, her face darkened and twisted, until it was a woman's no longer, but a strange man's in his prime. He wore dark clothes of the finest cut, and his eyes almost seemed to burn. His gaze met Rand's, and then his lip curled into a small smile.
Rand's heart thudded in his chest. He did not know how, but he knew this man was dangerous. He raised his hands fearfully and tried to step back, but then he found he was still held down, and could not move. The face loomed closer and darkness around them grew all the deeper. Then there was nothing.
Rand woke in a stone circular room, surrounded by women. He lay on a small cot and wore grey clothes that were not his own. He struggled for a moment to sit up, his limbs made stiff by inactivity. He stopped suddenly, confused. He didn't recognise this room. In all of Emond's field, no family had a room this large, and certainly not one made entirely out of stone. Two Rivers folk built their houses out of wood and thatched their roofs with straw. There was no family that could have afforded to have such a room built, and there was no one to build it even if they could.
"Where am I?" he asked cautiously. None of the women answered him. Some of them talked to each other, speaking in tones too quiet for him to hear. Others stared at him with undisguised interest. He started panicking, he didn't recognise any of them. Their faces were strange, seeming young and old at the same time. Of the women in the room, all but one wore the strange red shawls he had seen in his dreams draped over their shoulders. The last woman, who seemed quite young in comparison, wore green. Despite his growing fear, he wondered idly for a moment if the colours were some kind of uniform, like the green arm bands that the Taren Ferry patrols wore.
They all stared down at him, some looking puzzled, as if he were some mystery to be solved, and the effect was the most frightening thing he had ever seen. He'd faced down wolves before in order to protect the herd of sheep, albeit nervously, but these women scared him senseless.
"Where is my father?" he whispered, trying to control his voice. There was no answer. "Please" he said, tears blurring his eyes.
The woman in green spoke quietly to the figure next to her. "Is this really necessary?" she murmured. Her companion, a stout lady with dark hair that she wore in a bun, fidgeted irritably. "You are not a red Alanna, so I would not expect you to understand" she said tersely "If we wait, he only gains more time for his powers to grow stronger and more opportunities to hurt those around him".
She gazed down at Rand's tear-streaked face, and her expression softened for a moment. "We of the red do not gentle channelers because we enjoy it" she said quietly "we do so because we recognise the danger of the alternative".
Rand swallowed, they had not answered him, and they spoke almost as if he could not hear them. He didn't know what gentling was, or what channelers were, but they all talked softly and carefully, the same way the village Wisdom talked about a sick man who was going to die.
"I... I just want to go home" he said into the silence. "Please" Rand sobbed "I didn't know what I was doing, but I swear I'll never do it again".
The woman called Alanna bit her lip and shook her head. "I cannot watch this" she said, avoiding Rand's eyes. She strode from the room quickly, leaving him alone with the rest of them.
Rand swung his gaze to the other woman who had spoken. "Please" he begged again "I'll do whatever you want". She stared at him for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. "I am sorry child" she said "but there is nothing you can do".
"But I don't understand!" Rand wailed "what are you going to do to me?" The woman took a deep breath and did not answer him. She raised her head to see the other women, who waited patiently for her. "We shall begin" she commanded, absolute authority resonating in her voice "form a circle".
A/N: Constructive criticism would be appreciated, but this story is an AU and will therefore deviate from the canon plotline. Comments regarding what should have happened (according to canon) will be ignored.