Disclaimers: Bla, bla bla, bla bla...Don't owe the Wheel of Time... Bla, bla bla... Robert Jordan's property...Bla, bla bla... No need for suing!

Author's Note: Thank you so much all of you who has reviewed! I really, REALLY appreciated it, and so do my muse! :O)

Oh, and a late MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL, and A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

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Chapter 8: Part Two –Tarmon Gai'don

~**earlier**~

At once, the Gateway snapped shut behind her, almost cutting off her foot, and at the same time, something suddenly disappeared inside her head. Already before she knew what had happened, she heard her own voice call out in a high-pitched scream:

"Noooo!"

The bundle of emotions at the back of her head that belonged to her beloved husband and Warder was gone.

~**back to present**~

"No..." Nynaeve fell down on her knees, her whole body shivering in violent trembles. She couldn't believe it, no, she wouldn't believe it. "Lan, no, you can't be gone, you just can't!" Her voice was merely a whisper. Surprisingly, tears hadn't begun to form in her eyes.

He can't be dead! He is a strong and skilled man, he can't possibly get killed by some light-damned Trolloc or Myrddraal!

*But then why can you no longer sense him -his feelings and direction?* asked her little voice carefully, sending cold shivers down her back.

I –I don't know... But he can't be gone! He just can't!

*If he is not dead, then there is only one other option...* Her little voice trailed off, but Nynaeve understood at once what it was telling her, and she froze, neither moving nor breathing. Her thoughts were circulating around one single word.

Stilled…

She abruptly broke her reverie, and, almost in panic and despair, searched for the True Source, the only sign that would tell her if she had indeed been stilled, or if Lan had died.

Yes! It's there! Then I cannot be stilled! She let out a deep breath. But that means… No… No, no, no, NO!

"Lan…"

Nynaeve didn't notice she had sunk down on the ground, before she felt dirt between her fingers. She could not believe it. Lan couldn't be dead. He was supposed to survive, to live together with her for the rest of their lives, watch their children grow up.

Light! He was to see the kingdom of his forefathers' raise up again to its full glory!

She felt like wanting to die right then –she could not live without him. It was like loosing a large part of her heart, and breaking the rest of it into thousands of pieces.

*Think of the babes, Nynaeve.* Her little voiced returned. Nynaeve closed her eyes tightly at the thought of her unborn children, so tight it made stars appear behind her eyelids.

The voice continued. *They are the heirs of the Malkier throne. Even if Lan is gone, you can still see his old kingdom raise from ashes. It would have been his wish for you to go on, to raise his children and love them. He would have wanted it. And remember the prophecy –you can't leave Rand alone now, you have to fight! You cannot die!*

But the Dark One is so much powerful, and the most important, he's, for all I know, miles away from here! And I have not the strength to fight Moghedien, weave a Gateway, and fight the Father of Lies.

*That is just something you think, Nynaeve. You are much stronger than you believe. Moghedien stands no fight against you. And the Gateway does not draw much strength, you know that. Why do you act like a coward then?*

I am NOT a COWARD! How dare you, you filthy, slimy, lightdamned – Her own thoughts trailed off. Here she lay, swearing to a voice that belonged to her own subconscious, when she was to stand on her feet, ready to fight.

You're crazy, Nynaeve. Now get up on your feet. No retreat. You'll win this. Fight for the children. Lan's children.

*******

The Spider watched the scene unfold before her with a sick pleasure. She had ridden herself of the Illusion by now, and had once again become the dark-haired, short woman from the Age of Legends.

A sneer touched her lips. She never would have thought the Aes Sedai would be such a fool and follow her through the Gateway, yet she had.

The bloody wanna-be-Malkieri-queen must be loosing her touch. Certainly she would be up and about now, taking such hold of the Power that it would radiate the air around her. Well, it's good I am prepared. Moghedien stroked the figurines at the chain around her neck. There were six of them, and each had its own purpose and look.

One was in a sky-blue colour, formed like a rain drop. It was an angreal for Water. Another was as red as the sunset, almost blood-red. It was formed like a fire, and was therefore the angreal for Fire. The angreal for Earth was a mix of forest green and brown, and its shape looked almost like a tree, or a rock. It depended how you looked at it. The last two angreal was of the same shape –a cloud– but they had different colours. One was very light-blue –Air– and the other was purple-like –Spirit.

The purpose of these five figures was to lessen the use of the Power in the weavings, yet still have the same effect as if the full Source had been used. They were all too important for her to loose, therefore she had them fastened on a chain made of cuendillar. Yes, they had finally discovered how to make cuendillar, at least she had. Being the only one knowing was more worth than sharing the secret, and so she had not yet told anyone.

Fingertips flew over the stones again, barely touching them, before lingering at the last one of the six. Her face broke into an evil grin. The misshaped stone was very special. It had been made by herself, back in the Age of Legends, and had a most torturous purpose –at the one it was used on.

It serves her right, that damned woman! She should have thought twice about collaring me with that blasted thing, and then made me her servant! Oh, may she burn in the Fires of Shayol Goul forever, because that is where she is going!

Turning swiftly on her heel, Moghedien sneaked closer to the opening where Nynaeve lay crumpled on the ground, blinded by rage.

This is almost too easy, the Forsaken thought, as she swept forward, taking hold of the Power and feeling the heavenly presence of saidar fill her body. New life streaming through her veins. She almost sighed at the sensations.

"Are you out cold already, Aes Sedai?" She asked in a teasing voice, burning the pleasurable picture of the shaking, dirty Nynaeve into her mind. How she enjoyed this! It was too easy! A woman in grief, Aes Sedai or not, was an easy target for enemy attacks.

The woman on the ground didn't answer; she continued lying in the dirt, trembling uncontrollably. Moghedien sneered.

"Are you too mortified by loosing your precious little husband and Warder that you cannot even stand?" This made a stirrup in the Yellow.

Nynaeve stopped trembling, and after a short moment, she rose her head up high and locked eyes with the Forsaken. It took all Moghedien could muster not to swallow in fear.

So she is angry, and hurt, but that doesn't mean she is still difficult to kill. And I do not fear that little ex-Wisdom whose real duties lays in birthing children and cook as a farmwoman.

She sneered in an attempt to look fearless. Nynaeve seemed to be fooled, as she swayed a little. At least she thought the ex-Wisdom was fooled. Moghedien took a step forward, holding on tightly to the Source. She had decided what to do now, and quickly wove a shield to block the other woman from saidar. She succeeded. The Yellow was now shielded, and normally, the Forsaken would have tied up the shield, but by experience, she knew better than leaving it tied.

The first moments that passed, Nynaeve just sat on her knees, gazing somewhere to the south, not acknowledging her presence. Moghedien decided to start the attacks, not wanting to draw out more time. She began the weaving of a basic attack to get the other woman off her feet.

But suddenly, she found herself on her back, being blasted off her feet by some invisible force field. Her eyes widened in horror as she felt the shield was broken into pieces, and saw the steady body of Nynaeve stand some paces away. The woman's face was determined and emotionless at the same time, and Moghedien felt the fear like a stone at the bottom of her stomach.

Hurriedly, she rolled over and got to her feet. A fireball hit the place she had vacated just seconds ago, and the Forsaken had no time to ponder the quickness of the other woman, as another fireball headed towards her, forcing her to take cover behind a large rock. Knowing it was unwise to sit in one place, she threw herself to another rock, a lightening bolt missing her by inches.

Light that woman is quick! She has surely become greater and stronger, yet she do not have the experience I have!

Moghedien jumped behind the next rock, and this continued until she was down on her knees, gasping for breath. There had been no time for her to start her counter-attacks, but now her attacker seemed to have calmed down, at least it had gone completely silent save her intakes of oxygen.

This is ridiculous, Moghedien! You are greater than her, besides, you have the angreal… This is the time to use it!

The Forsaken grinned evilly as she turned around to look over the rock, then her eyes widened in horror and shock. The last thing she remembered, was the blinding, searing, white light that engulfed her eyesight, before everything went black.

*******

Nynaeve watched as the balefire she had just woven embraced Moghedien in a sea of white, blinding light. It was the third time she had seen someone been ripped away from the Pattern, yet it still was different from the other times. Those times, she had not known what it was, and it was therefore very frightening, but this time… She knew the result of this, and taken into consideration who was the aim of her attack, she was actually pleased.

That woman is nothing but a blasted spider that had woven her net of hate so tightly around her she could not escape this destiny. She do not deserve to be a part of the Pattern. She had a hand in killing Lan, I'm sure of that. Had I only known how…

*It will do no good, Nynaeve. He is gone, you have to accept it.* Her little voice returned.

She stared out in the air, loosing focus of both place and time.

*But why don't you cry, Nynaeve? He is your husband! He is the love of your life! Don't you think you should shed a tear for him?*

Nynaeve didn't know what to answer. She only knew she couldn't. There was something inside her that didn't want to cooperate with her emotions. An uneasy sensation in the bottom of her stomach. Her little voice continued to speak to her, but it was merely a whisper in the chaos of thoughts that raced through her mind. Then, only one thought occupied her head.

Rand needs my help.

*******

Rand wiped off the sweat with the back of his hand. The battle had only lasted an hour, yet it was draining his strength, especially the tension caused by the waiting for the Dark One.

*He's probably too afraid to show his ugly face,* cackled Lews Therin within Rand's head. He just sighed. The old Dragon was useful once in a while, but the rest of the time… Well, he was a real pain in the arse! Rand smiled despite of himself. The Dragon was amusing sometimes.

Rand took a defensive stand, his Power-wrought sword resting in his hands. His life guard was excellent. Rarely enemies got through the thick lines of soldiers, channelers and Aiel. And of course, those strange animals the Seanchan rode, what was they called? He didn't really remember, but it didn't matter. He could always ask later.

Later, he repeated inside his mind. Will it even be a 'later'? Will we leave the Blight in victory or retreat?

*There's no answer to that, boy,* replied Lews Therin with sadness. *The Wheel waves as the Wheel wills. All you can do is to do your best and be a bloody ta'veren, then maybe you can affect the Pattern to good.* Rand thought about this, his mind elsewhere than the battlefield, yet still inside the empty void. It reminded him of a woman he knew long ago, who had taken him and the others away from Emond's Field. Moiraine. He wondered if Mat's theory about Moiraine still being alive was true. The world of the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn was just strange to him.

*Where is Seryan?* Lews Therin suddenly exclaimed. Rand's head shot up immediately. Yes, where was Nynaeve? He admitted he hadn't thought about her for a while, but now that he come to think about it, he had not noticed any more attacks from her position. And neither had he seen Lan.

*Maybe they have run off to a quiet place where they can have some 'quality time'?* chuckled Lews Therin.

Shut up! growled Rand. He didn't like this. Had something happened to Nynaeve that had passed him unnoticed? His eyes searched for the Malkieri battle lord. The man shouldn't be so difficult to find, right? That suit he was wearing stands out, and he's not particularly small. Fright swelled inside him when he could not see his mentor.

A man passed by –an Asha'man– and Rand grabbed him by the collar, catching the man off guard.

"Have you seen the lord of the Seven Towers?" The confused look at the Asha'man's face told him he didn't understand. "Have you seen lord Mandrogoran –al'Lan Mandrogoran?" Again, the confused look. "For Light's sake, have you seen a man called Lan that is wearing a green and purple suit and with a stony face?!" Rand was loosing his temper, as well as his manner.

Then it dawned for the other man, and he replied in a stutter due to Rand's tight grip of his collar. "N-no, my L-lord Dr-dragon R-reb-reborn!" Rand dropped the man to the ground, shaking his head in both fear and anger. He turned around and went closer to the protecting circle his life guard held around him. Lan was his mentor, his idol. He could not let him die. And he owed it to Nynaeve for all she had done for him.

"Lan!" He called out, his head spinning around so his eyes were everywhere. His feet moved outside the void, and he barely noticed where he headed. All he cared about was finding at least a hint to tell him where the Malkieri was.

Too preoccupied with his search, Rand didn't notice that it was gradually going silent. Then, he stopped short as he heard the drums.

It was a slow, monotone beating. Like the footsteps of a giant. Steady, and growing louder. Rand turned around, his face stony and emotionless. He held in a gasp as he saw what was coming.

Maybe a hundred and fifty paces away, there was a large gap in the enemy army. Inside it, there stood a creature maybe seven or eight feet tall, dressed in black armour from head to toe, with streaks of red covering the harness.

Shai'tan…

As if on cue, the Dark One suddenly flew several paces up in the air, before turning towards Rand. Rand was ready. He had waited for this since he had accepted his destiny. He had not been ready all the time, but he was now. Nothing could stop him from this meeting of good and evil.

**Prepare for death, youngling! You may be powerful, but no more than me! I will crush you like I crush a bug!** He could hear the Dark One's voice inside his head, but it didn't affect him.

**I am not afraid, Shai'tan. If any of us is going to leave this world through death, it is going to be you.** His voice was calm –a trick he had learned from Lan. It would certainly set some fear in the angered Sightburner, especially since he used the creature's real name. And it indeed did.

The armour-clad creature flew towards him with such speed, Rand had just gotten his sword up in a ready-stance when the Dark One landed heavily on the ground. Silence followed. No one, neither creature nor human, moved a muscle. Only the rustle of wind could be heard over the battlefield. Rand stood ready for any attack. Then he startled a moment as a horn blew weakly, yet was heard loudly. It restarted the battle again, and Rand took hold of saidin.

"You dare use my name," spoke the creature as it moved into a ready-stance. "Have you now heard what happen to those who do so?" Rand's face didn't show any emotion that raced through him. "They die!" Suddenly, the Dark One lunged at him, and he met the sword with a high and fiery 'clank'.

"Well, not this one, Shai'tan! It is you that will be crushed!" Rand had gotten what he wanted –an hot-tempered opponent– and it would be in his favour. Inside the void, he could not sense anything, and replied each fiery attack with a defensive sword. He did not dare to start counter-attack yet. He instead took a good hold of the Power, and while defending himself from the black sword of the Dark One, he waited for the right moment to use the Choendal Kal through the angreal he possessed. It laid in his pocket, ready to be used. He had only used it one time before, when he had cleansed saidin, and he had had Nynaeve's help, who used the opposite angreal, the one for saidar.

"This will cost you dearly, Lews Therin!" yelled his opponent, swiftly lunging the sword in a complex dance with Rand's. Rand found it harder and harder to reply to his enemy's attacks, filled with much hatred and anger.

*Don't you give up now, lad!* called Lews Therin inside Rand's head. *Seryan will come to your rescue, you just have to hold on! Fight for the love of your women, your children, and the world you live in!*

For a short time, this gave Rand all the strength he needed –the memory of his twin children, and Min, Elayne and Aviendha. But then he began to fall back, and he noticed how the crowd around them just floated away, like he was a boat breaking the water.

His defence was beginning to falter, that he found out the painful way when the Dark One's sword seared through his arm, and made a deep cut. Rand cried out in agony, even though he could barely feel the pain inside the emptiness of the void. He clutched the wound for a short time, then the anger flared up inside him. A war cry escaped his throat as he raced forward in advance, twirling, spinning, slashing, cutting and dancing the dangerous dance he knew so well. And he began his Power-attacks too, weaving fireballs, fire daggers, hurricanes, all possible weaves to wound or kill. His enemy, however, merely grinned, and replied to each attack as fierily as ever, until he was slowly draining Rand for both strength and Power.

*Where is Seryan?!* Lews Therin was furious. And so was Rand, inside the emptiness. Nynaeve was supposed to help him, but where was she? He felt his power draining as well as his strength, and decided to set a final strike at his opponent to get him off his feet, and then finish him off with balefire. It had to be done, and it had to be done now, since Nynaeve was either dead or wounded, and he was loosing powers.

First he jumped forward and left, slashing at the right leg of the Dark One, then he rolled right when Shai'tan turned to him, and put the sharp sword in the left leg, causing a shrill cry from his opponent. Rand rolled backwards as the ground shook like an earthquake as the Dark One fell down. He got to his feet, and held his right hand forward, as his left clutched the angreal in his pocket.

The fight to get hold of as much Power as he could, was almost draining the last strength of Rand, but he held on tightly, like a leaf grasping its branch in a storm. His eyes were closed, and therefore he could not see the massive creature weaving his feared, black sword towards Rand.

**Prepare to die, Lews Therin!**

Rand heard the voice inside his head, and as in slow-motion, he opened his eyes, and all he could see was the black blade only a few feet away from his face. He already knew his sword would never get up in time, nor would he manage to jump away.

I am doomed.

With this last thought, he closed his eyes tightly. Pictures of a past long gone flashed behind his eyelids; from the happy time of his childhood with Mat, Perrin, his father, Egwene, and even Nynaeve, to his adventures after Moiraine and Lan had taken them away from Two Rivers; finding the Eye of the World, the Great Hunt, the Capture of Callandor, going into the Waste, hunting the Shaido; and other memories like Moiraine disappearing through the Doorway, meeting Elayne, Min and Aviendha, creating the Black Tower and the kidnapping of the White Tower under Elaida. But also little pictures crashed into his mind; Min and Aviendha wearing dresses, the Bonding, holding his children in his arms, or one of the women he love. It was like a film replaying his whole life, from the beginning and until present, which would be the end of it.

Rand waited for the sword to hit him, but suddenly he sensed a whoosh nearby him, and before he knew what was happening, he was in the air, flying upwards. His eyes widened as he saw the furious way his enemy's sword clashed into the ground, then they travelled to where he was headed, and a shadow of a smile cruised his lips as he landed safely on the cliff.

"Thank you, Nynaeve," he said and looked at the ex-Wisdom. "I now owe you my life."

"You won't have much of a damned life left if you don't decide to kill off that bloody, flaming bastard soon!" Rand raised his eyebrows at her foul language; he had never heard her talk like that before, and in some way, it scared him. But nothing scared him more than the stony look on Nynaeve's face. It was the face of someone who had experienced the death of someone close, and was intent with every inch of the body, to revenge that victim. Rand got a strange feeling in the bottom of his stomach, and was about to say something out loud, when she spoke harshly to him. "Well, are you just going to stand there, you Dragon flaming Reborn?! You –and I!– have a duty to fulfil, so let's go on with it, and send this bloody Sightburner to his destiny, which is death!"

And with that, she jumped forward in an advance stance, and Rand could feel his skin prickle as she begun the linking. Without a word, he sheathed his sword and took hold of the Power through the Choendal Kal, gasping at the strong sensations of the Source going through him. He let himself be linked, and he could see her shiver from the new strength residing inside her. Looking up, he ignored his mental note of having the sword sheathed, and grasped it with both if his hands, readying himself.

For a few moments, their enemy just stood there, staring at them. Rand almost smiled as he imagined how the sight of himself and Nynaeve would be. A red-haired man as tall as an Aiel, clothed in armour made of cuendillar and holding a Power-wrought sword, and a short, dark-haired woman, clothed in the Malkieri battle suit, and with a burning fire in her eyes. Surely it would be impressing, and hopefully, fearing.

"As I once said, Shai'tan," Rand called to the Dark One, causing a complete silence in the armies around them at the sound of his real name. He gave his opponent a stare worthy of a wise, strong man –a Lord Dragon Reborn. "If any of us is going to leave this world through death...it is going to be you." And Nynaeve took the cue to start weaving Fire Daggers, Lightening Bolts, and any weave that could wound badly, while Rand jumped down from the cliff, and started his dangerous sword dance again, this time advancing so much due to the Dark One being distracted by Nynaeve's attacks.

Rand smiled a true smile as he swept forward and to the sides, slashing, turning, lunging, stabbing, all the while meeting the counter-attacks. When he looked up a second, he was startled to see normal eyes behind that helmet, not fiery fires like he had imagined. It didn't change his mind about ridding this creature away from this world, however, and he jumped sideways as he stroke low and hit Shai'tan in his legs. The half-cut-off-legs made the enemy fall down on the ground, just as lightening bolts hit the armour so it blasted to a hundred pieces.

It was sickening to see the skin underneath the harness and ring mail, bloody and black like burnt flesh. But Rand didn't waver. He held his ground firmly, grasping tightly around the shaft. The enemy just laid there on the ground, yet life was still within its body, and Rand was waiting.

Suddenly, the Dark One rose up with a loud war cry, and Rand found himself, again, at the brink between death and life, as Shai'tan took a tight hold around his neck and lifted him several feet off the ground. And this time he was not sure he was as lucky as last time.

"Let him go!" called a woman's voice. Rand would have yelled for Nynaeve to get away, but he couldn't utter a word, and he was slowly loosing breath as his neck was being crushed. He watched as the Dark One turned his face towards the woman, but his eyesight was slowly going black, and he closed his eyes.

"And why should I, foolish, worthless woman?" The voice was crisp, and cutting. Rand couldn't breath any more, and he could do nothing with the Power, for it was Nynaeve who was leading the weaves.

Leading! Yes! My dear Nynaeve, use the Power, destroy this bastard! He may be more powerful than me, but not me and you together! Yet even these encouraging words didn't calm him down, and he floated in blackness. Then he suddenly fell through the air, hitting the ground hard. He could hear yelling and loud screams, but they were muffled, like they were far, far away. He tried to open his eyes, only to be met by searing, white light, and he fell into the blackness again.

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Author's Note: Ah! Finite! (for now...*grin*) This was the last chapter, guys, but don't worry! There will be both an epilogue and a sequel! Personally, I think at least some parts of this chapter sucked, but what did ya others think? Please REVIEW, and especially those who have read the whole thing, yet not REVIEWED! I really need REVIEWS, or else there will be no sequel, and you won't know what happens next! So I say again: please, PLEASE REVIEW! I beg you... ^_^