For a moment, as sleep gradually receded, Neya was certain that she must have dreamed it all. She had never really left the Two Rivers, never met Ishamael or any other Forsaken; they were all securely bound in Shayol Ghul. The Dragon would be Reborn someday, and the Last Battle would shake the world to its very core, but it surely wouldn't happen in her lifetime. It had all been a long, strange dream.
Then she heard her father speak in a low voice, a voice she hadn't heard in years. It brought her out of her reverie. "…sorry about your boy, Tam. I really am. You know I'm here if you need me." There came a hushed reply that Neya didn't catch, and then there was a rustle as someone lifted the tent flap. She heard her father settle somewhere close to her. She knew it was him without opening her eyes. He still wore the same sharp-scented fragrance he always used, the one that made her nose prickle because it was so strong, though it was a wonder that Neya could still discern it under the smell of blood and dirt and smoke that emanated from him. Had he taken part in the fight? She hadn't even considered the possibility. In her mind, her father had been safe at home, looking after her sisters and mother.
Neya opened her eyes. Abell looked older than he did before she'd left, of course. His hair and beard were greyer; there were more wrinkles around his eyes. Though she supposed that she must look different to him as well, after so long. He didn't notice that she was awake; his eyes were closed. He seemed to be asleep. He looked as exhausted as Neya felt.
She wondered how long she had been unconscious, how long her father had kept watch beside her bed. What had happened to her? She remembered pain, then a fatigue beyond what her body could endure, and then…darkness. Nothingness.
Light, the baby! She almost gasped out loud in her panic. She patted her belly, and was comforted by the familiar bump her hand found there. The baby had to be alright. She would know if it wasn't, surely. Somewhat reassured, Neya turned her head toward her father once more.
"Daddy?" she said softly. Her voice cracked a little. She hadn't called him that in years.
Abell started. His eyes nearly fell off their sockets when he realised that Neya had spoken. He must have thought it was a dream. "Burn me, you're awake!" He slid off the chair to kneel beside the cot and placed a hand on her forehead. "How're you feeling, hon?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
"Thirsty," she croaked.
"Oh, right." He jumped back to his feet to fetch some water for her and came back an instant later. "Here you go," he said as he handed the goblet over.
Neya drank thirstily, almost spilling the water in her haste. "Thanks." She looked up at Abell with a frown as memories slowly began to drift back to her. The physical pain she'd felt earlier hadn't been her own, she remembered. It had been Mazrim's.
Her eyes widened in horror. Light, Mazrim was dead. Their bond had shattered. And she'd attempted to Heal him… She must have passed out soon afterward. She couldn't remember if she'd succeeded, unlikely as it was. "Da?" she asked worriedly. "Have you heard anything about Mazrim? Is he…?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word out loud.
"Who's that, sweetheart?" Abell said with a scowl. "You've had several…visitors, but you needed to rest, so I told them to…um…come back later," he finished lamely.
He told them to piss off, Neya translated wryly. "Are they still around? Can you investigate? Please? I really need to know that they're alright."
"They? You said Mazrim," he pointed out, his face suddenly blank.
Neya sighed. Some things never changed. "Mazrim is the man I Healed before I lost consciousness, Da. Mazrim Taim? From the Black Tower?" He must have heard the name before. Neya knew that the Asha'man had been recruiting in the Two Rivers. "But then you mentioned other visitors," she went on. She wondered whom had come to check on her. Jasin, if Neya had to guess. Provided that he was alive. It was unlikely that Bao would have stopped by, after she'd betrayed him.
Oh, Light. Let them all be alive and unharmed, at least. She didn't think she could take it if anything had happened to them.
Abell's brow was knit. "Aye. There was one hulking, haughty fellow, and a skinny one in a fancy coat with a harp strapped to his back. Logain Ablar came next. At least he introduced himself, that one," he added with a faint grimace. "The last one was here just an hour ago. Saldaean, by the look of him."
Could it be…? Could Neya really have revived Mazrim, somehow? She dared not get her hopes up, not until she saw him with her own eyes. Her father might be mistaken. Not everyone could tell the Borderlanders apart. Why, two years ago, Neya herself couldn't have told a Saldaean apart from a Shienaran. Borderlander visitors were scarce in Edmond's Field, to say the least, though that may have changed since she'd last seen her home village. Perrin had mentioned refugees from various nations.
The hulking, haughty one… Well, that sounded like Bao. She wondered how he'd taken to being told to piss off. Had he come here to make sure she was alright, or simply to tell Neya that he was returning to Shara without her, and that she ought never to come back?
Light, she hoped no one had said anything about their…relationship to her father. Or about the baby. Or, really, about anything that had happened to Neya over the past two years.
"Da, do you think you could find Mazrim for me?" she requested in a small voice. "Or any of them, really. Um, except Logain. I don't need to see him." Why did the man want to see her? She barely knew him. And if he was in charge of the Black Tower, he surely had better things to do than visit Neya, his arch-enemy's lover.
Former lover, she amended.
"Neya," Abell said, "you need to rest, sweetheart. I think it's best if we wait a bit before allowing people in here." She gave him a flat look. "Well, maybe I should try to find Nynaeve," he went on hastily. "I'll be right back. Holler if you need me. I won't be far." He exited the tent without another word. Light, she had forgotten how stubborn he could be. It was no wonder Mat was so mulish sometimes. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, as the saying went.
Before Abell had been gone a minute, Neya slapped her forehead, cursing herself. She hadn't even asked about the bloody battle! Or Rand, or Mat, or… Burn her for a woolheaded fool!
She was trying to get out of bed to find out what had happened to her brother and childhood friends when Logain stepped inside the tent. He caught her as she stumbled and helped her sit down. "Easy there."
"Thank you. Maybe I'll wait another minute before running out," Neya said weakly. She was nearly shaking with exertion. "How long was I out?"
Logain cocked his head to the side, thinking. "A day and a half."
"I feel like I could sleep a hundred years," she muttered wearily.
"Yeah, well, I was actually coming to fetch you," he announced.
She frowned up at him. "How did you even know I was awake? It happened literally five minutes ago."
Logain shrugged. "I saw your… Is he your father?" Neya nodded. "Well, I saw him hurry out and assumed you were awake." He hesitated. "Either that, or you were dead." He smiled apologetically.
"Sorry to disappoint. Is Mazrim alright?" she asked for the second time in as many minutes. At least Logain knew whom she was talking about.
His face darkened. "He lives," he replied curtly.
Neya's heart skipped a beat. Mazrim was alive. Relief flooded through her. "And…Demandred?"
"He's the reason I'm here, actually. He's making trouble – already," Logain said bitterly. "He refuses to sign the Dragon's Peace."
That was…unsurprising. Knowing Bao, he might be refusing to sign simply because it was called that. If they were talking about the treaty, however, it had to mean that the Light had been victorious. Although… What was it her father had said, earlier? 'Sorry about your boy, Tam.'
Oh, Rand. Neya hadn't expected him to survive, not really, but… She couldn't believe he was gone.
She turned to Logain, hoping that her face didn't reflect the many emotions that rippled through her. "I'm not sure how much help I would be, you know. We're not exactly on good terms…"
Logain sighed. "Yeah, I figured. But who else is there? You're the only one who knows him. Except Asmodean, I suppose – or Natael, whatever he calls himself – but they don't seem to get along, either." He snorted. "Demandred nearly punched a hole through him, earlier." So Jasin was alive, as well. Thank the Light. But why had Bao tried to assault him? What had Jasin done now? Blood and ashes, she shouldn't have told him about the potato thing. It would get him killed for sure.
"Is Demandred alone? Where are Shendla and Mintel? You know, the woman who was there when he…surrendered. And an old man?"
Logain was shaking his head. "Haven't seen anyone else from the Sharan camp." Maybe they were resting. Everyone had to be exhausted, after the battle. Maybe they'd returned to Shara already. "Can you please come? He's in there with Cadsuane Sedai and several Wise Ones, and I'm not sure who is the most dangerous."
Cadsuane? Neya had never heard the name before, but Logain used it with reverence – or was it fear? To be fair, she didn't know many Aes Sedai. "Alright," she said with a sigh. "Help me up, will you?"
He steadied her as she stood. "I can carry you, if you want," he told her with a bright smile.
Neya chuckled. "I think I'll manage, thank you."
Logain glanced at Neya sideways as they made their way toward the command tent. She didn't glow anymore. Could people just…stop being ta'veren? Was it because the Last Battle was over? Had she played her part, had the Pattern decided to allow her to have a normal life, from now on? The girl certainly deserved a bit of normalcy.
They all did.
Logain hadn't paid sufficient attention to the other ta'veren to know whether they still radiated light. Well, al'Thor was dying in any case. Logain had yet to meet that Aybara fellow. Cauthon… Yes, Logain thought he'd seen that luminous aura around him, even after the battle. Perhaps the Pattern wasn't done with him, yet. With any luck – and Cauthon didn't lack for luck – he was going to destroy the Seanchan nation from the inside. They were quite a pain in everyone's arse, Cauthon's wife more than most. What an obnoxious little minx.
Given everything that had happened to Logain, he sometimes wondered whether he didn't have some ta'veren-ness in him, too. His failed attempt at becoming the Dragon Reborn, the gentling, the Healing, Logain leading the Asha'man in the Last Battle… and before that, the Turning.
Logain shuddered, feeling cold despite the summer heat.
He had not given in to Taim, to the Shadow, but, for all intents and purposes, he was a broken man. His mind was fractured, possibly beyond repair. Sometimes he wished he'd simply…surrendered. To the sweet oblivion that Turning apparently provided. It was obvious that Toveine had been gone; she was not locked up inside her own body, struggling to free herself. No, she was gone. A mere shadow of her former self. Her soul, what had been the essence of Toveine Gazal, had been destroyed.
And yet perhaps her fate had been enviable.
She was dead now, both in body and in mind. Logain had woven the fatal thread himself. By then, he had already severed their bond. He had done it the moment he'd felt strong enough to channel, after being rescued. A show of cowardice, now that he thought about it. Perhaps Toveine had been in there, somewhere. Perhaps the bond had been the last shred of humanity she could cling to. And Logain had broken it without a second thought, feeling tainted by their connection, as though any of it had been Toveine's fault.
Logain was to blame for everything. It was his own foolish overconfidence that had doomed her – that had almost doomed the world. If not for Androl and Atal… If they hadn't succeeded where Logain had pathetically failed…
"Are you alright?" Neya asked, her voice thick with concern.
Concern, for a man she barely knew. Who had practically kidnapped her from the safety of her bed, when all she must want to do was rest. How in the bloody Pit of Doom had she ended up with Taim, of all people? And then with Demandred? Well, ta'veren and all that, but still. Ugh, and let's not forget about Asmodean and Ishamael, of course. Peace, how was she still sane?
"I'm…" Logain trailed off. In truth, several people had asked him if he was alright, since he'd escaped the Black Tower's dungeons. He'd put on a mask. He'd pretended that everything was fine. He'd had to. The men needed a leader, and somehow they'd been convinced that Logain was the only person for the job, though Androl had proven more than capable of replacing him. Light, even Atal would have been a better choice. The lad had changed much since Taim had apparently discarded him. Logain had imagined a lovers' quarrel, but that was not quite the story. Atal claimed that Taim had sent him to Androl, to help Logain. He wasn't sure what to make of this. Why would Taim lock up Logain, torture him within an inch of his life, then try to help him through one of his minions?
"Logain?" Neya had stopped walking. She was gazing at him worriedly, chewing on her lower lip. Without waiting for a reply, she reached up with her right hand and placed it on Logain's temple. He felt her embrace the Source.
He gulped. "You shouldn't… You'll tire yourself, lass. I'm not worth the bother."
"I'm only Delving you." One moment she was frowning, the next her eyes widened. "Blood and flaming ashes," she murmured.
"What? What's wrong?" Stupid question. As if he didn't know what was wrong.
"Logain, I'm so sorry," Neya said softly. That did nothing to reassure him. "It will take me days to Heal you. And I'm not… I can't do this now. I need time to…" She wavered. The tingly feeling that indicated a female channeling nearby vanished.
"Maybe Demandred can wait," he said as he held her upright, his broad hands on her delicate shoulders. "You should be in bed. I'm sorry, lass, I shouldn't have-"
She shook her head. "I'm fine. I shouldn't have channeled, is all. Made me a bit dizzy, but I'm alright now. Let's go." She marched onwards with determination.
Logain wondered what was going to happen now. Demandred and Taim had both somehow managed to coerce the Amyrlin into giving them complete freedom – which still didn't suit Logain one bit, even if they were supposed to be confined in Shara. Demandred had done very little to redeem himself. And Taim…
Taim could redeem himself over and over for a thousand years, and it still wouldn't be sufficient for Logain. The man had tried to Turn him. To break him. And what was worse, Logain was afraid that Taim had succeeded.
Taim should be roasted alive and fed to the Trollocs, no matter what Atal claimed. The lad wasn't impartial regarding Taim anyway. He might be making it all up in an attempt to save the man he obviously idolised. Why, Logain could not begin to say.
Taim had chosen his path. Long ago. By his own admission, he had been a Darkfriend for years before he was elevated as a Forsaken. He deserved a punishment befitting his crimes, not a golden cage in Shara, a cage he would share with the woman he loved.
"I can't apologise on Mazrim's behalf," Neya said quietly. Logain hadn't realised that she'd walked back to him when she noticed him lagging behind. "But if you knew what his mind is like…" She pursed her lips. "He's mad, Logain. It's not always obvious, not outwardly." Logain actually thought it was quite obvious, but the girl hadn't seen Taim in a while, apparently, before their recent reunion. "His emotions… Some have been exacerbated by the taint. Others have been dulled down to nothing." She glanced at Logain's forehead. "I think the taint did a similar work on your brain."
Logain blinked. The multiple attempts at Turning may have altered his mind but… The taint? He wasn't mad! Surely he would have realised if…
"It can be insidious, the taint. It's not always a case of sudden, booming madness, which causes everyone around the channeler to go out in a fireworks display. I think it was the same for Rand; it gnawed at his brains, taking out several useful, but not indispensable, capacities. Caution, empathy, fear, trust… People can live without those. They can live their entire lives without noticing that anything's missing."
"I'm not insane," Logain growled heatedly. "Your flaming lover broke me, but I'm not mad."
"You're feeling angry," Neya noted. Of course he bloody well did! Why wouldn't he? Taim had ruined his life! "How do you feel about your accomplishments during the battle? About our victory over the Shadow? About the fact that you're alive, that you survived Tarmon Gai'don?" she questioned him relentlessly.
Logain huffed, losing patience with her. What was she going on about? "Does it matter?" He didn't care one whit about any of those things! He wanted justice. For himself, and for all the Asha'man and Aes Sedai who had been Turned. For Toveine. Nothing else mattered. His fists contracted at the thought of strangling Taim. He wanted revenge.
"Your anger, it has become your main focus. It's driving you. It's burning inside you, threatening to overwhelm you. If you decided to lash out…" She sighed. "That's how it happens, Logain. That's how the madness takes over. That's how you kill yourself and everyone around you, innocent bystanders included."
"I would never hurt anyone!" he roared. Reflexively, he seized saidin. "I have never harmed anyone who didn't deserve it, and I never will. You're trying to make excuses for Taim. You're trying to blame me for what he did."
She raised her hands defensively. "I'm not-"
Logain talked right over her. "I can't believe you Healed him," he spat at her. "You should have let him die. He deserves nothing else. The whole lot of you, you should all be gentled and hanged! Yes, even you," he went on. His rage was almost blinding him, but he vaguely registered the fact that he'd seized Neya by the collar. "Pretending to be all sweet and innocent, but you're the worst of them." She flinched. "You think you accomplished something of worth, returning them to the Light? They don't belong here. They never did, and they never will. It's all a sham. I don't understand how the others don't see it, but they will. Mark my words, I will make them realise what they signed up for, and then you will all be sorry."
"Let go of her." Logain's head swivelled. Lan Mandragoran was standing ten feet away from them, his sword out of its scabbard and loosely held in one hand. His face, as usual, was a stony mask. Logain snorted. As if he couldn't shatter the man's blade before anyone had time to move! "Logain, let the woman go. Now. You're hurting her." Logain glanced at Neya. She hadn't moved, or said anything, but her neck was red where Logain was pulling on the fabric of her blouse.
He released the girl, his anger suddenly draining away from him. He released his grip on saidin. Light, what was he doing? His face burned with shame. "I-I'm sorry, lass. I didn't mean… I'm…"
She patted his arm. "It's alright. Logain, I will Heal you as soon as possible, I promise, but you need to rest. Please."
Logain eyed Lan, who hadn't moved. The man hadn't relaxed one bit. "I'll just…retire to my tent for a moment," he said roughly. "Excuse me." He practically ran away from them. Trolloc balls! What had he almost done? What would have happened if Lan hadn't intervened?
Logain shuddered again, despite the rising sun.