"When my task is completed, I promise you, you won't be burdened by anything ever again. None of us will be."
She had pondered his last words for a long time that day. However, no matter which way she turned them, it seemed to her that this mysterious task of his led to her inevitable death, and possibly that of the entire world. But what could she possibly do about it?
It was not a pleasant thought and she had trouble sleeping that night – more than usual, in any case. Dreams, or rather nightmares, kept intruding her rest. In some of them, Ishamael destroyed her village, her home, and she watched as her family burned, trapped inside the house. Of course, that scene prompted her oldest nightmare to return, the one she thought she had buried long ago. More than once, she woke up shaking, drenched in sweat, until she finally gave up and decided to fix herself a cup of tea.
She picked up a volume at random to keep her company. There was a kind of painting on the cover of this one, representing a good-looking man in his middle years, his brown hair lightly streaked with white. This time she didn't need the lexicons to understand the title. In fact, she used them less and less as she advanced through the shelves of books. She really was becoming fluent in the language, in its written form at least. The book was called Lews Therin Telamon: an Autobiography.
So this was the man they had called the Dragon, the Aes Sedai who had murdered his entire family after the Dark One tainted saidin. She hadn't known there were any images of him left in the world. After all, he had killed himself over three thousand years ago. Then again, Ishamael himself supposedly was bound in Shayol Ghul.
She had read three chapters of the book when Ishamael came back. She saw movement in the corner of her eye and turned in that direction, only to find him lying on the floor. At least she thought it was him. All she could see were the charred remains of what might have been a tall man. Stunned, she hesitated before approaching the body. She felt a wave of panic seize her as she stumbled toward it. Please, Light, don't let it be him. He can't be dead. I don't want to die here! She fell to her knees beside the burnt corpse. Even this close, she couldn't be sure whether it was him. The man's clothes seemed to have melted into his skin. His death must have been atrociously painful.
Suddenly, the corpse moved. She almost fell backward when it grabbed her arm. It uttered a single word before loosening its grip, a bare whisper: "Pet."
Blood and flaming ashes! She was dimly aware that she was crying. She was becoming hysterical. The thought made her laugh. That was it; she was dead. Her last faint hope of getting out of here had just been reduced to ashes. She laughed even harder.
She'd gone numb at some point, or maybe she'd passed out. She couldn't remember how long she'd been sitting there, staring at the corpse; it might have been a second or a year. She became aware that she was clutching his arm, but she couldn't make herself let go. A spell of despair took her, quickly replaced by anger, and she started to shake him, as if it would somehow revive him. She heard someone shout, then realised the sound was coming from her. Suddenly, she felt warmth envelop her. A sentiment of peace mingled with joy filled her. She closed her eyes, drinking it all in.
When she opened her eyes again, Ishamael sat staring at her, looking blank. There were no marks on him, no evidence that he'd suffered any kind of injury, yet he looked… different. She couldn't have said what it was exactly.
She was in her bed. She hadn't realised she'd fallen asleep. Had she been dreaming? She wanted to touch him, to make sure he was really there, but she dared not. She met his eyes and then she understood why he looked different. His eyes weren't pits of flames anymore. He had brown eyes, a very dark brown, almost black. He looked jarringly human. The thought made her smile, and that caused him to frown. She heard him clear his throat roughly. "Are you… alright?" He sounded oddly hesitant.
She sat up to face him. "I feel fine. Thank you for asking," she replied quietly. "What happened?" she asked after a brief hesitation.
He shook his head, obviously confused. "I'm not sure. I almost had him. And then he…" He interrupted his halting speech for a moment then went on in a barely audible voice. "I could smell my skin roasting. I Travelled. I must have. I don't know what happened. I woke up to find you lying on top of me in the other room. I was… like this. You were unconscious. I put you in bed. That was hours ago." He trailed off, frowning at nothing in particular.
Travelled? Who had he almost had? If she asked him now, when he was so clearly dazed, maybe he would answer.
Instead she asked, "Are you alright?"
Focusing his gaze back on her, he nodded slowly. "It would appear so." He hesitated again. "When did you learn to channel, pet?"