And Chapter 4 is out at last. Events begin, slowly, to move, as I take a break from my not-so-hectic lack-of-anything-remotely-resembling-a-real-life. Lots of different viewpoints in this chapter, but at least they're all familiar.

Anyone who thinks I have time, between school, reading incessantly, and writing fanfiction, to write an epic of such proportions as the Wheel of Time series (not to mention the perseverence and genius necessary . . .) seriously needs to get their heads checked. ^_^ And believe me, I can only draw well when I'm basing it off of something . . . so chances are, I probably didn't create Sailormoon, either.


Chapter 4

Moiraine knelt by Tam's side, Lan standing at guard. Rand hovered, and Setsuna and Ami stood off to the side, where they would be less likely to be noticed. Setsuna watched Moiraine's flows avidly and Ami, without Setsuna's excuse for interest, merely kept track out of the corner of her eye while trying to seem as if she did not watch.

Lan cleared his throat softly and addressed Rand. That is a fine weapon you wear. Is there by chance a heron on the blade, as well? Too quickly for notice, his eyes flicked to their blue-haired companion. A sudden plethora of heron-marked blades. But is that necessarily a good thing?

Yes, there is. Rand replied, blinking startlement at the Warder's sudden question. What is she doing? A seeming non sequitor, but the others on the room knew to what he refered, even without the added hint of his quick glance towards the silent, still form of the dark-haired woman leaning over his father.

Ami snorted, equally softly. Healing your father. What else would she be doing? Her attention returned to Lan, as she aired a question that she had been wondering about for a while. What does the heron-mark mean?

There are places, Lan touched the scabbard at Rand's waist with a finger, gently, though he pitched his voice to be directed towards both, where the heron is the symbol of a master swordsman.

Ami snorted. The kami just love their jokes, don't they? She asked rhetorically.

Seeing the quizzical looks directed toward her by both men, she shrugged and expanded slightly, Back home, I was the least martial of our group. Setsuna would be more fit for a heron-marked blade than I.

The green-haired girl smirked. I prefer staff, thank you kindly. Which reminds me, Ami . . . how on earth did you manage to be that good last night?

Ami shot her a look, then drew the sword in a smooth motion and tossed it to Setsuna. I just relaxed and let the sword take care of everything.

Catching it easily, she turned the sword over and traced the impression on the other side of the hilt from the heron. An incredulous smile rose to her face. I wonder if the Garnet Orb made the journey as well? She tossed the sword back to Ami.

Reach out and see what you pick up.

Setsuna reached into the empty air and, seemingly grasping nothing but air, suddenly held an elegant mahogany staff with a wickedly pointed silver head on it. A glaive. Setsuna smiled, and Ami shared that smile, thinking of the last person they had seen holding a glaive--though admittedly not this one.

Moiraine stirred, and Setsuna walked over, still holding onto the glaive. Is it done? She asked quietly, mere moments before Rand had a chance to.

The dark-haired Aes Sedai shook her head slowly. Not yet. I hope it is only not yet.

It is a wound, like any other I'd think, if deeper than some. Are Trolloc weapons poisoned? Is that the trouble?

I suppose you could say poison is part of their very nature. Trollocs are made at the forges in the valley of Thakan'dar, on the slopes of Shayol Ghul--the place where the seals on the Dark One are at their weakest. They take a taint from the place, a stain of evil in the very metal. And those tainted blades can make wounds that will not heal unaided, or cause deadly fevers and strange sicknesses that medicines cannot touch. I have merely soothed his pain . . . the taint is still within him, and given time it will grow to consume him. Both senshi drank in this information, eager to expand their knowledge of their (temporary) new home and the enemy they would be facing.

Ami came up on Setsuna's other side and touched Moiraine's shoulder softly, reassuringly. Moiraine felt stronger from that touch, rested the rest of the way from her interrupted sleep and the first steps of Tam al'Thor's healing. The blue-haired stranger smiled with complete confidence. But you will not give it that time. I know you can destroy the taint.

Moiraine smiled, a bare curving of her lips, but remained silent. She placed one hand on Tam's forehead and the other delved deep within her pouch, touching something. Both Ami and Setsuna felt the sudden increase in power as the dark-haired Aes Sedai closed her eyes, a look of concentration on her determined face.

Ami stepped back and took up once again her post near the door. Hopefully none of them would realize what she had done. Too many questions could be asked, otherwise. She frowned slightly. Why had no one before noticed . . . if the thought wasn't clearly preposterous, she would have called it a block. As well as the bruises she had sustained last night--although that last was probably due to the (thankfully few) more serious injuries that had to be dealt with.

Rand seemed to be battling with himself. Finally, he addressed Lan. If you had been told about a man in the woods who made people afraid by just looking at them . . . one whose cape seemed untouched by the wind . . . would you have know what was going to happen?

Lan snorted. It might have been nice to have a bit of extra warning, but . . . truthfully, no. Now, if we had known we were to be facing Trollocs before we left Tar Valon, Moiraine would probably have dragged another half dozen or so of the Aes Sedai down here, by the scruffs of their necks if necessary. That would have helped.

Setsuna grinned. So you had to make do with us instead.

The glance Lan flicked her, beneath the stone, showed a certain amount of exasperation. He returned his attention to Rand. That was a Myrddraal that you saw.

But Fades are twenty feet tall and . . . Rand blushed under Lan's even gaze.

The tall warrior shook his head. Stories often make things out to seem larger than they are in truth. The Myrddraal are quite enough by themselves, though.

Enough and more. And we didn't manage to kill the one with the Trollocs last night. Moiraine shook her head as she slowly stood up, weariness in her posture. That is going to come back to haunt us, I am sure of it. It is done. She announced abruptly, and Rand rushed over to his father as she wearily passed a hand in front of her face. The unexpected second wind had only lasted so long, on such a monumental task as this.

He will be all right now? Rand asked anxiously. Indeed, his father's breathing was a great deal easier, though his face still possessed a fearfully washed-out look.

With a few weeks or so in bed, he will be as good as new. Moiraine assured the worried young man. It is fortunate your father is a strong man--otherwise, even my efforts might have been all for nothing.

I can never repay you. Rand looked up from where he knelt by the side of his father--his father, no matter what anyone said--though he could not quite make himself look at Moiraine . . . at the Aes Sedai. Anything I can do for you, though, I will. Anything. He paused, then added a wary qualifier. So long as it doesn't hurt my family or my friends.

Moiraine smiled slightly, one that did not touch her assessing blue eyes. I am sure we can talk at length when we leave, seeing as we'll be leaving at about the same time.

Leave? Surely it's not that bad! Why, with the exception of a bare handful of buildings, the village looked practically the same as always. And the numerous black stains all around the main square, the ground dyed black and what little grass remained dyed a dark reddish brown. But Rand wasn't going to touch on that subject. He still felt that, impossible as it had been, somehow he still should have been there to help. We'll have it fixed up and back to normal in no time, so what's this talk of leaving?

Try listening instead of babbling. Ami suggested from the doorway. She's not talking about the entire village leaving. Just you and a couple others.

Eyes widening in increased astonishment, he turned to Moiraine, who nodded slowly. You must leave, you and Mat Cauthon and Perrin Aybara. For the sake of the village.

Why me? Rand asked, the eternal question uttered by those who have a responsibility thrust on them that they do not wish to take up.

Did you know that only yours and the Aybara farm were even visited? Lan asked. Although thankfully all the Aybaras were already here for the festival--an eventuality that the Myrddraal was not prepared for. Or that the forge, the blacksmith's house, and the Cauthon house were the main places the Trollocs actually tried to torch here in Emond's Field? Anything else they set on fire was purely incidental. A distraction, or a mistake.

That's crazy. Rand shook his head. Why would anyone be after me? Or Perrin and Mat, he added as an afterthought.

You three are of a certain age, born within weeks of each other. In one of you, she considered, looking thoughtful for a moment, or perhaps in all three, is something that the Dark One fears.

That's impossible. Rand walked over to the window and looked out, uneasily conscious of the Aes Sedai's presence nearby. He repeated. If only he didn't sound like he was trying to convince himself . . .

It must have taken a great deal of effort to get that many youm--Trollocs here without raising a hue and cry far in advance. Setsuna observed idly. I'd think that if the Dark One . . . or whoever . . . is interested enough in you to go to that much trouble, he'd be more than willing to try as second time . . . or a third . . . She trailed off.

They will be back. Lan affirmed grimly.

Rand sighed, and in a dull tone remarked, Unless we leave. If we're really what they're after, they'll chase after us and leave Emond's Field alone. He sighed, and in the same lifeless tone continued, So where do we go? And when do we start?

Tonight, just after dark. Lan replied instantly to the second query. And to Tar Valon. Surrounded by Aes Sedai and Warders, even the Dark One is hesitant to attempt to breach the White Tower.

In addition, the White Tower holds all the knowledge we have gathered since the Age of Madness. Moiraine continued, picking up the conversational thread with aplomb. There, if anywhere, you can find the answer to why the Myrddraal . . . why the Father of Lies . . . wants you. That much, I can promise.

* * *

Rei? Don't leave me alone, Rei, please?

She shrieked, with all her heart and all her soul, a shriek that abruptly woke her from the dream . . . the nightmare . . . the memory. Uncaring, in the dark loneliness of her room, she hunched over and finally let fall the tears of mourning. And another name, one that had remained with her, the person who had figured prominently in the ruin of two of the worlds she had visited. She hissed.

The memories faded but slowly, when they faded at all. Most of what she remembered of the past from the future world had already faded. They were memories that belonged to the other Rei. What happened to the real Rei, in the worlds she had visited? Did she disappear, never to be seen again? Or snap back into place like a stretched rubberband, as soon as her own influence faded?

Lanfear had been one of the Forsaken, killed fairly early on--by whom, Rei could no longer recall. Nae'blis . . . the first, the leader of the Forsaken. The place for which all of them strove. She looked up suddenly. Her possible future self had remembered a time when she could sense evil in people. Could she?

She stood and padded over to the door. The moon was bright tonight, lighting her way as she crept down the hall back to the novice quarters. Kiara, evidently having inherited her mother's strength in the One Power, had been placed in her old room. Beside Gwena.

Silently she turned the knob to let herself into the blonde girl's room. For a time, she stood, merely watching the way the moonlight highlighted the curves of the other girl's face, the way she tensed, as if combatting a particularly disturbing dream, if not quite a nightmare. She felt comfortable around Gwena, unlike . . . she remembered the time when Jadeite masqueraded as a temple helper. She had felt somewhat uneasy around him, but she had just chalked it up, at the time, to her distrust of men as a general race.

If she still possessed the talent for sensing evil, it was a pretty safe bet that Gwena had not yet become Lanfear. Hopefully, she never would. Rei traced with her eyes the subtle play of light and shadow on the Gwena's face. It would hurt, to have to kill her first real friend in this new world. Yet, if it meant keeping Lanfear from coming to power . . .

She began to understand, in a way, the attitude of the outer senshi in their battle against Pharoah 90. Sometimes, sacrifice was necessary. And if, when the time came--though she fervently hoped it never would--killing her friend would mean the partial prevention of the destruction of the world, could she really, in all conscience, refuse to kill Lanfear simply because Gwena had once been a friend?

Softly, she brushed a few strands of hair out of the other girl's face. Please, Gwena . . . don't ever become Lanfear. And as quietly as she had entered, she slowly left, the only evidence that she had ever been there, the strand of hair tucked neatly behind one upturned ear.

* * *

Panting, and wiping the sweat from her forehead, she stepped back. I don't think I can go on much longer at this pace. Can I call break?

Ilandrin stepped back, green eyes flashing with amusement. To be frank, I had expected you to give up completely long before this. You know, for a strange wetlander-yet-not who claims she has never set hand to a spear before, you are surprisingly good.

Minako found enough energy to summon up a mischeivous remark or two of her own. You know, just because I've never used a civilized' weapon before doesn't mean I haven't fought. Er . . . I admit most of what I did was dodging, though.

So that's how you got so fast with your defense. The other girl laughed. Tapping the butt of her spear against the ground absentmindedly, she turned a greatly more sober gaze toward her new friend. You do know, don't you, that you will have to destroy your spears when you become a Wise One. A Wise One--one with the ability to channel the magical energy of this particular world. One of the first unfamiliar words and phrases she had learned.

Ordinary spears, perhaps. Minako corrected mildly. These past few days, as they traveled toward Rhuidean, she had been accepted as something of an honorary Far Dareis Mai--Maiden of the Spear. This one, never. It is a part of my soul. She had her suspicions, that the spear represented her power as a senshi, the power that for now had been closed to her. Unlike the Outers with their Talismans . . . or even Ami, with her Mercury Harp, she had never had a visible representation of her power. It had always just been there, resting near to her heart, waiting until the next time she called upon it through the aid of her henshin wand.

Ilandrin's look mixed shock and pity. Look, Mina, I know you like your spear--and frankly, you have right to be proud of it. It is one of the best, not to mention by far the most beautiful spear I have ever seen. But you will have to put that behind you when you become a Wise One. Wise Ones are not warriors. They cannot afford to be.

No, it is you who does not understand. I was not being poetic. I was not being melodramatic. I was telling the complete and utter truth with absolutely not exaggeration. I may even have understated the case somewhat. It is distinctly possible that this spear is the physical representation of my star seed. My soul, in its entirety. Her gaze turned inward, away from the burning hot desert that drew the sweat from her even as she stood at ease. They do not want me to hold this spear, this incarnation of the power that I used to have? Fine. I will not hold it. She opened her hand, letting the spear fall into her subspace pocket, though to any other eye, it simply disappeared. But I will not destroy it. For by doing so, I greatly fear that I would be destroying myself.

Her blue eyes caught Ilandrin's green, and she shook her head. You still think I'm being melodramatic. Looking away, she shaded her eyes as she looked over the vast desert land. Off in the distance, she could barely see a tiny darker spot jutting out of the horizon. Rhuidean, the place towards which they headed, though no one (except, of course, the Wise Ones) knew exactly why. In so very short a time, she had come to see these Aiel as something of a home away from home, with their notions of ji'e'toh that in some ways were quite similar to her personal code of honor. Yet . . .

Perhaps I shall have to leave, if that is the case. She murmured. It was her destiny to be always a warrior. Yes, she would be alone again . . . but then, she ought to be used to that by now. She turned back to Ilandrin and brought the spear back out with a deft, nearly unnoticeable, flick of her wrist. In a louder voice, she said, I think that has been a long enough rest for now. Shall we begin again?

The red-haired girl nodded. As they fought, ot occured to Minako to ask a question that had been haunting her. Why have you done this? Taking me in, I mean. The Aiel seem to me to be very . . .

Ilandrin offered. She gestured for another stop, as it was her turn to stare out into the desert. Ordinarily, yes. However . . . I petitioned to let you stay, putting my honor on the line. I did this, even before I came to know you, because . . . She paused. About a week before you came, I had a dream. In my dream, I saw a tall blonde girl descend from the sky in the direction of Rhuidean. She turned to me, asking me for my help. Ilandrin closed her eyes. She looked enough like you that I recognized you immediately, and she spoke with your voice. So I have given you help, at first because of the dream and later just because you're a friend.

Minako shook her head. A true dream . . . it sounds to me like you're more suited to become a Wise One than I. All I can do is channel' this place's magical energy.

Ilandrin's eyes shot wide open. Promise me you won't tell the Wise Ones? I . . . I'm a warrior, and perfectly content to be nothing more. I would not make a very good Wise One.

Minako smiled ruefully. You'd probably do a better job of it than I. But I also understand your feelings. I too have a warrior soul. I can't not fight, especially when I see evil being committed. So I give you my solemn promise that I will not tell the Wise Ones of your dream.

Ilandrin's look was full of pity. Mina . . . Wise Ones do not fight. They cannot, by the laws of our people.

* * *

Manipulating fire is often dangerous, as fire is the most unstable of the elements, and the most likely to break free. Several of the other students who had elected to take this course paled. Their instructor, Adari Sedai of the Grey Ajah, smiled in a manner that was obviously meant to be encouraging. Thus, you must learn to soothe the fire, inducing it to trust you. When a fire will allow you to touch it, then you will know that you have properly soothed it.

The glow of saidar sprung up about her. Do not be worried if the fire changes shape, for it is often willful and tries to spring from human bonds into a shape that it identifies as its own.

One apprehensive girl raised a hand. Adari Sedai? She quavered. Does that mean . . . that fire is actually . . . you know, alive?

Rei smiled at her memory of the Sacred Fire. Some fire, certainly, gained considerably more than self-awareness.

Not in the ordinary sense of the word, certainly. The Grey sister soothed. It just does not deal well with being overly constrained. Seeing that there were no more questions, the glow intensified for a moment, and in front of each girl, there appeared a ball of fire, floating patiently. Rei noted that the Aes Sedai did not relinquish the power--her corona still shone bright. To prevent any potentially harmful accidents, Rei was sure. Immediately, coronas sprang up around the rest of the small group--only five in this class.

She held out her hand, gently and slowly, ready to seize the Source if the fire proved intractable, yet not really expecting such an eventuality. Of its own accord, the flame elongated to become vaguely snake-like and wrapped itself around her arm with a comfortable, and only slightly warm, grip. The head' raised and twisted, for all the world like a small snake examining its surroundings. You. The voice insinuated itself into her mind, slowly and shyly, as if not quite sure of its welcome. You trust Us, and do not use your Power to force Us to do your will. Also, We can communicate with you. That is a thing that We have never done with Humans before. It sounded faintly puzzled, and Rei suddenly realized that she was not communing with only this small fire-snake but, through it, all the fire in the world. It was at the same time a heady and a frightening thought. Why are you different?

She lifted a finger and gently stroked the head' of the little fire-snake. Let me tell you a story, little one. She whispered, knowing that whatever she said would be known by every fire, every candle, even, on this world. A story of a place, far away, called Mars, and of a Kingdom that lived on the Moon . . .

As her little piece of fire listened, fascinated, the other fires in the classroom calmed ever so slightly, as they too took in this new information about a world outside their own, yet still one in which fire existed. And this calming gave the other Accepteds a bit more courage, a bit more confidence, which in turn allowed them to complete this task just a bit faster, giving them yet more confidence in themselves for the next time they were forced to deal with fire in this manner.

And Adari Sedai of the Grey Ajah looked on, proud and satisfied that her intervention was not needed and most likely would not be. Then her eyes would catch on the sight of the one person in the room who had not yet even reached for saidar, who sat there with absolutely no concern that her small bit of fire had wrapped around her arm, who murmured something to the fire in words too soft for any other to hear.

Quite curious.

* * *

You brought the monsters! The crowd called, some waving their torches in the descending twilight. You brought them! It's your fault!

How dare they? Ami wondered, bewildered; bewilderment that soon shifted to anger. How dare you! She yelled, stepping in front of Moiraine, drawing everyone's attention. The crowd, puzzled at this unexpected source of argument, quieted somewhat. How dare you accuse us of bringing the Trollocs, and the Myrddraal? We risked our lives to drive them off, and for this?! I knew that Aes Sedai are not well thought of out here, but I never thought you would stoop to accusing us of conspiring with the Dark One.

That's not . . . One voice began tentatively.

Ami asked, tone dripping with false solicitousness. Perhaps you could tell me, then, how you suppose we brought the Trollocs, if you are wise enough to realize that we are not Darkfriends.

Silence of the uncomfortable sort, and a few shuffled feet. Finally, yet another burst out, It's that Aes Sedai magic! It attracts monsters. We haven't ever been attacked by monsters, before you came.

And if it wasn't caused by us? Ami asked quietly. If, no matter what, it would have happened . . . what would your village look like now, had we not been here?

A few men chuckled nervously. You make it sound like fate, or destiny or something. Those sorts of things haven't ever played any part in Emond's Field. Fate's for big cities and important people, not for the likes of us.

A strange smile came to Ami's face. One, I believed as you do that I was unimportant and normal. She shrugged. Later events proved otherwise. Fate and destiny are not necessarily always as exclusive as you seem to think.

Nor is Emond's Field as normal and unimportant as you believe. Moiraine added.

Let me tell you a story, of a time long ago, and a proud country known as Manetheren . . .