Author: Hi. Following suggestions, I have now edited the first chapter of this fic. It has changed a lot so I hope it is a bit better now. I am currently working on the second chapter (in case anyone wants to read it) which will hopefully have more dialogue and less descriptive prose.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the wheel of time.
"Jewel are you even listening ! Jewel!"
Jewel snapped back into focus. " Er yeah. Sorry, what was that again?" Zac sighed but began again. Sometimes it was hard to even have a conversation with his friend; he seemed to have moments where it was no use talking to him, almost as though he were somewhere else completely.
"I was asking you about your ideas for the village fete. Everyone loved our two-man show last time but we've got to do something different this time round. The Coppler brothers are apparently putting together their own fireworks display and we can't let them out do us. I think we might need to call in some of the others."
" Yeah, good idea." The others were, of course, the rest of their group of friends. Normally Zac and Jewel would, being best friends, do something together but Jewel was not averse to the idea of asking the others to join in. The truth was Zac was getting a little overzealous when it came to the fete. Jewel didn't mind having fun but it wasn't enjoyable when Zac was so preoccupied with trying to beat everyone else. Hopefully, the rest of the gang might be able to calm him down a little. In spite of the fact that it was his suggestion, Zac did look a tad offended when Jewel agreed with him so readily; perhaps more of a reluctant yes would have been appropriate.
" Well do you have any ideas then?" Zac asked after a moment's pause. Jewel simply shrugged. Zac was beginning to get slightly irritated – he hated it when his friend was so reserved. It was almost painful to attempt to communicate with him when he was in a mood like his present one. Jewel hadn't always been so quiet and withdrawn: when younger he was as loud and boisterous as the rest of the village boys. But he seemed to become more thoughtful and silent as he grew up and now he seemed to prefer his own company to Zac's. Even now though, there were occasions when he would be roused from his silence, when it was possible to stir up anger in him. Like last month, when one of the boys from the nearby village had foolishly insulted his mother and discovered that Jewel was not as timid as he appeared at first sight. Jewel had thrown him into a wall and broken his leg. Yet he took the sound beating he received afterwards without complaint and didn't discuss the affair with anyone afterwards, not even Zac. Although there were numerous occurrences of this kind, where Jewel revealed a hidden passionate side to him, for the most part he remained calm and reserved, keeping his emotions and thoughts to himself.
Jewel tried to focus on the fete again to please his friend: "I suppose we could put on a play – there are enough of us to try out that comedy your Dad wrote." Zac pounced upon the suggestion with more eagerness that it really deserved. But Jewel was finding it hard to concentrate on such mundane matters on a night like this. He just wanted to be by himself, out wandering in the night, not sitting by the roadside discussing the fete. As Zac continued talking in the same enthusiastic fashion, patiently informing Jewel of all the minor details of the proposed operation, Jewel began to drift. Zac's rambling voice began to form a kind of rhythm in Jewel's ears, which was pleasantly lulling and had a pleasing symmetry. Jewel gradually relinquished his focus on Zac's voice and let his senses roam freely. He looked up into the heavens and saw the beginnings of a storm.
As he gazed up at the sky, Jewel felt the first few tentative raindrops fall slowly upon his open face. The first sign of the rainy season his mother would say, the weather can change in seconds. The ominously dark clouds, that had been slowly gathering, shrouded the last glimpse of sunlight, darkening the earth below and then the rain began to pour. It came down thick and fast and before long, Jewel was soaked. All thought of Zac had vanished from his mind: he could only perceive the storm before him. He felt the drops of water come cascading down upon him, increasing in number each time. He felt the pound, pound, pound as each drop broke against his head, as waves break upon the shore. Each suicidal drop plummeted down to meet its fate, one by one dashing themselves hopelessly against some indestructible barrier. He had better head off home. Zac was waiting and Mama would be worried if he was late. She always did seem to be so worried about him these days. Said he was too quiet. And yet…something about the oncoming storm attracted him – he was more enchanted by it than the dreamily peaceful twilight scene it had disturbed while his mind was wandering. There was something mesmerising about it all…something utterly engrossing… so much so, that he felt like just letting it take hold of him; just letting himself be drawn in with all his senses…
He watched steadily the murky pools of water swiftly accumulating at his feet and listened to the rhythmical cadence of the water's fall, totally lost in its ululating song. Suddenly, the onslaught seemed to decrease slightly, the rainfall subsiding momentarily, and Jewel saw an image of a dragon emblazoned in the sky, its fiery breath vanquishing the tempest, soaking up the water droplets as they fell. The dragon was absolutely terrifying to behold; its huge form, towering over Jewel, was armoured in thick green scales, that appeared impenetrable as the strongest fortress and scorching flames spouted from its mouth. Encrusted in its underside were bright jewels, which glinted brightly in the moonlight. One especially caught his eye: in the centre of the dragon's broad chest was set a large glowing ruby. It was perfectly formed and beautiful; a ghostly light seemed to emanate from it, which spread around the dragon and illuminated the sky briefly. A crackle of purple light fizzled along the dragon's surface; Jewel could feel its magical power pulsating. The fire issuing from its mouth and nostrils continued to absorb the falling water, the heat causing steam to rise, and the storm seemed to calm somewhat, humbled before its presence. For some reason Jewel felt a hidden passion stirring inside him, brought on by the storm. He felt angry. He knew he was being shown this for a reason but before he could grasp what is was, some shadow stirred in the night sky and now the storm returned with renewed vigour. The image of the dragon faded out and was gone: there was nothing to stop the ensuing downpour. The clouds seemed to compete to show their fecundity and he was bombarded by another flurry of rainfall. Then came the lightning. Not unexpected, given the conditions, save perhaps in its manner. A brilliant white bolt ripped through the air before him; its jagged body renting a tear in the sky, rupturing its very fabric. Another followed it in close succession – this time the bolt struck a nearby tree, which went up in flames. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He had heard the sound earlier but now it was closer, louder, adding a deep bass to the song. It was a deep, portentous grumbling; an open threat. . And now the rain beat down remorselessly. Any sign of rhythm was gone: harmony had turned into discord. The thunder roared; the lightning flashed with anger; the wind howled and whined at intervals and the rain pounded down, pounded down upon him.
Jewel stood in the centre of it all, watching the incessant altercation intensify in ferocity, and was filled with an inexplicable sense of anger. He was bearing the brunt of the storm's wrath. As the wind blew harder, redoubling its efforts, he stood before it all, fully exposed; utterly vulnerable to its inexorable rage and despotic might. He felt the wind pushing him back; dragging him by his hair and cloak, billowing all around him to get some purchase on anything it could haul him back by. Yet he did not move an inch. He felt the ceaseless torrent of rain in his face, dealing him physical blows, pounding him back. But he did not yield any ground. He felt the thunder goading him, taunting him and then bellowing with rage. And the lightning – each bolt coming closer and closer, until he could feel the very heat from the sparks each bolt emit and see that the grass illuminated before him was singed to the ground. But he stood before it nonetheless, calling it on; daring it to do its best. He felt full of confidence; not an ounce of fear was in him and all his former reserve was gone. He was an impassable Wall before it. He would not falter for a second before this lowly beast. He would not cower before it. The image of the dragon came back to him and somehow strengthened his resolve. The storm could bash against the Wall but it was a futile struggle, like the fall of water upon rock: the Wall would stand.
Jewel felt he could resist the storm, hold it in its path. No, he felt he could push it back, thrust it away and overcome its evil will. For the moment he just stood there, stultifying the storm's feeble efforts; scorning its power. Then he took a step forwards and the storm shrank before his commanding presence, recoiling from the look of determination imprinted on his face. Then as he advanced, his face fearless and his brow uplifted, the storm retreated further and further backwards and gradually dwindled into nothing but the soft pounding of the rain and then, finally, silence. Jewel glimpsed Zac for a moment rushing towards him, then he swayed slightly and collapsed to the ground unconscious.
Rand threw himself onto the bed, his head spinning. He could hear Lews Therin in his head. He was shouting about something or the other. But Rand didn't care: he had a splitting headache. The chasing around, the hiding, the thousand different people who wanted him to do this or that, the people he wasn't sure whether he could trust, the Aes sedai, the Asha'man, the three women he loved, the voice in his head, the constant suppressing of emotions, the uncertainty in his life…all this was getting to him. He was fed up with life. Or at any rate, life as it was: he wished he could go back to before he found out he was the dragon flaming reborn! Before Moirane had dragged him away from his peaceful, blissfully uneventful, life in Emond's field. Back then he had been free: free from all these different people trying to use him, free from fear, free from hurt, free to express his emotions – to laugh, to cry, to smile, to love. Now he felt trapped. Trapped in a cage, doomed to imprisonment with only a screaming madman for company. He buried his head in a pillow as Lews therin's voice rose. He tried to block it out, to quieten it to a merely irritating buzzing noise, but to no avail. It's the wrong one! The wrong one! How can this have happened… A misplaced thread in the pattern perhaps… This is disastrous! I've got the wrong boy! The wrong one!! The screaming had reached its peak now and was almost unbearable. It tailed off into a high-pitched unintelligible whine and then suddenly stopped. Silence filled the air. The voice had gone. Thank God! Rand had no idea what Lews therin's babble was about but then again he usually didn't. Sometimes he would rave about his former life and his wife, Ilyena, which wasn't so bad but it annoyed Rand when he moaned about the Asha'man or attempted to seize the Power from Rand, as he had done so alarmingly that night of the battle. Rand was too tired to dwell on why Lews therin had been silent for so long but it was unusual for him to remain quiet for such a length of time. Perhaps he was gone forever. But, then again, he shouldn't get his hopes up: it was best to use the opportunity to get some rest. He pushed himself up the bed and then slipping under the quilt and pulling the soft sheets around him, he let himself drift into a deep sleep.
Images drifted before him. A Ruby, bright red and gleaming, shone on the chest of a tall, proud man. The light pierced Rand's heart and he felt pain and hatred welling up inside him. Before he could do anything, the image faded and was replaced by another. In Rand's hands was a book entitled: The Karaethon cycle (the prophecies of the dragon). One by one the leaves of the book began to loosen and fall out. He tried to keep them from falling but then the spine of the book ripped and all the pages fell to the ground. As they fell, they turned black. Rand's gaze was inexorably drawn to the cover of the book. It was now entitled The prophecies of Nae'blis. This image faded and Rand was thankful for it filled him with some inexplicable horror. Suddenly, Rand found himself in the stone in Tear. He knew this was not another illusory image: it felt real somehow. Before him appeared Moirane. She was clothed in a profound blue and her shawl sat lightly on her shoulders. On her hand was her Aes sedai ring. She was calling his name. Suddenly, without warning, Rand was flung to the ground. He cried out in pain as his body made contact with the hard marble floor. As he got up, he stumbled and fell again. And it was well he did so, for at that moment a stream of balefire shot from Moirane's hands and he felt its heat as it passed over his head. A dark light was in her eyes. She seemed to exude anger and hatred but she released no more balefire. Before he could stop it, Rand felt a shield coming between him and the power. Then he collapsed to the ground.
Moirane appeared to have got the better of her emotions; at any rate, she did not attack him again. Rand decided to speak before her anger returned. "Moirane …Wh-What happened to you? I thought you were dead," was all he could stammer. He felt incredibly foolish. Foolish and afraid.
"You think I would tell you, you of all people, what I have been through. What I went through for your sake."
Rand was wondering what on earth was going on. He was somehow sure this was real but it couldn't be. Mat would spring out any second now and laugh at how badly he had him going. If this was a joke, it was in very bad taste. What did she mean by the way she said you? Her voice sounded uncharacteristically harsh and bitter. But before he could frame the question with his lips, she had read his mind: "Because you are false. False. False False," she snarled, "You are nothing but a fake! You had Siuan and I going but I've found you out now! You are no more than a false dragon! I nearly sacrificed myself for a false dragon! Now you shall pay for the pain you have caused me and for what has happened to Siuan "
"But what about the prophecies!" Rand replied, at last finding his voice and his mind, "They cannot be false."
"No" said Moirane, with a wry smile, "they are not false. But they are not the prophecies of the dragon. They are the prophecies of Nae'blis. The Dark One's greatest servant on earth and the dragon's greatest adversary, save the Dark One himself."
Now the image came back to Rand. He saw the scattered pages dropping to the ground and he saw the altered title. He was Nae'blis. A vague sense of horror overwhelmed him. He only gradually became aware that Moirane was talking again. "I have found the true dragon reborn. His name is Jewel and he is young but his heart is strong: he will defeat the Dark one. The true Karaethon cycle has been located. The dragon shall ride on the winds of time again. Your Master shall be defeated: he cannot withstand the might of the dragon. We were fools to think, even for a second, that you could be Lews Therin Telamon reborn. No. You shall not even be Nae'blis for long. Your master will perish at the hands of the dragon: so it is foretold. But your death is a little nearer at hand."
Rand shivered. It felt strange having the Dark one called his master. But stranger still to see Moirane preparing to kill him. She was trembling with a feverish delight! He wanted to tell her she had got it all wrong. He might not be the dragon but he wasn't Nae- whatever it was – he wasn't anyone important! Blood and ashes! But he could find neither the words nor the time to halt her. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be real.
"I hated you ever since I first saw you Rand. That hate grew the more you disobeyed me and deliberately frustrated my efforts to help you but I suppressed it because of who you were. That hate is the only thing that kept me going when I neared the threshold between this life and the next: it devoured me. Now I find my hate is justified: you are Nae'blis. Now it is my duty to kill you. Now, I shall have the pleasure of killing you because of who you are …"