Chapter Eighteen:
"Tenobia? Dead? How?" Faile looked shocked.
"Her Majesty went hunting with some courtiers, Lady Faile, a group of Trollocs found them, Lady…they killed two-but to no avail…" the messenger broke off, clearly distressed. Perrin gave him a gold crown, and told him to leave. He turned to find Faile crying, tears streaking her face. Perrin gathered her in his large arms and embraced her.
"Tenobia is dead, Perrin, Trollocs…we both know…"
"Faile, do not try to think about it. Saldaea will be in safe hands now that your father will be King when this is over."
"Father as King. In the name of the Light, Perrin, should anything happen to him…he is too important to lose, both to me and to Rand."
"Again, my heart, do not think about it. Your father is a healthy man and one of the greatest generals alive. It would take nothing short of three Trollocs to disarm Davram Bashere!"
Faile looked up at Perrin and into his bright yellow eyes. "My love, I hope that you are right." She started to cry again, and Perrin gathered her into her arms and held her tight, as he thought.
"Dapple, what is it that I should do?" he asked to the presence in his head.
"Your She is mourning for her Packsister. Let her mourn. We will all have to mourn over our Pack members before long. We will all have to make sacrifices."
"Birgitte, what do you mean, I was fighting for the Dark One?" Mat stared at her, and the look on his face was more than worry, it was anger and despair.
"Mat, not long before Mierin Eronaile made the discovery of the Prison of the Dark One, there was a military commander unlike any other. All said that he was the Creator's favourite that he could never die. He trained his men in every piece of knowledge he saw fit. He trained the weakest boys into the greatest duelling champions in the World. He travelled from Tzora to Kemali to Paarad Disen lecturing on knowledge of tactics and strategies. He was handsome, and a gambler and a womaniser.
Then the Bore came, and instantly, he knew that war was imminent. The men he had trained to become duelling champions were now the greatest soldiers in the land. He was the one that trained the first Blademasters. But then, he saw what the channellers such as Aginor and Ishamael were capable of doing, what they were creating, and he despaired.
Men were dying in their hundreds, while Aginor was creating hundreds more of his monsters such as the Trollocs, Draghkar and Jumara every day. He saw that being on the side of the Light was to fight a battle against impossible odds.
So-he swore his soul to the Dark One, not knowing what it would entail, but in doing so, he betrayed his childhood friend, Lews Therin Telamon.
The battles that were fought between the Light and the Shadow were arduous and the General wishes that he had never sworn his soul to the Shadow. The Shadowspawn had killed many of his students. So he did the only thing he could. After the Hundred Companions had sealed the Bore with the remaining thirteen Forsaken, and had started to Break the world, he went to talk with the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn. The General forsakes all connection to the Dark One, and the 'Finn sever the connection that tied the General to the Dark One."
"Like how Rand severed the tie between the Dark One and Asmodean." Mat interrupted.
"Anyway," Birgitte continued "The 'Finn severed the ties on the one condition that he would have to be tied to the Wheel, so that when a General of his skills would be needed again, he could be summoned. This would happen until he had fulfilled the debt to the Dragon. He would also be plagued with memories of his previous carnations in the Pattern, so as to stay on the Path of the Light.
The General's name was Nael Jeram Nosterem. Throughout his life, he only used one weapon, which he lost after talking to the 'Finn. It is the weapon that you carry now-the Ashanderai. Since that day-I have known the General through many lives, in many nations. But the one thing that has always stayed the same is that he has stayed on the path of the Light, and Nael Nosterem now carries the same blade he carried over three thousand years previously."
Birgitte got up and saluted Mat. "You were the one that trained me in the way of the Bow. I thank you, Nosterem."
"My name is Mat, Birgitte. When I was Nosterem, I betrayed the Dragon. Now maybe I can repay my debt to the Dragon in this Age."
Birgitte outstretched her hand, and Mat clasped it. "Maybe this time, we will need not be called out into the Pattern for some time."
"Let us hope so, Archer." And with that, they refilled their flagons with wine, and drank a toast.
"To the Dark One. Sword, spear or bow, we will end it this time. For good."
One of the Aiel walked in to the tent they were sitting in, and bowed to Mat.
"My Lord Cauthon, So'jhin above all, husband to the Empress of Seanchan…"
"My name is Mat, call me by my name, spreads the word. What is it?"
"Mat, the Car'a'carn wishes your council. He has received a message from the enemy."
Mat ran out of the tent, grabbing his ashanderai as he left. As he ran to the tent, the Aiel on guard duty moved to let Mat into the Commanders tent.
"What in the name of the Light is going on Rand? Your Aiel told me that you received a message from them."
Rand looked up from the table which he was bent over, and as Mat looked around he saw that Loial, Egwene, Gareth Bryne, Davram Bashere, Perrin and Tam al'Thor were also all there.
"Yes-written on human skin. Read it." Rand unrolled the thing with a spear and moved it across the table as if it was something infectious. Mat looked down at the writing,
To the Army of the Dragon Reborn: your sun has set. By this time tomorrow, the Trollocs will be feasting on your flesh as the Great Lord remakes the World in his own image. If you wish to surrender, reply to this message. If you wish to have the ravens feasting on your eyes, and the Trollocs roasting you on the campfires, then prepare for Battle.
Tarmon Gai'don is here, al'Thor. On Shayol Ghul we shall end this.
FAIN.
"I think we know what this mean, don't we my old friends?" Rand looked grim-faced. "Prepare for Battle. Tomorrow we fight."
Elayne and Egwene sat up late that night working on the information that they had. It was Egwene who came up with the idea.
"Elayne, out of one hundred times, how successful are the ter'angreal you make?"
"When I first started making them, when we were in Salidar, possibly sixty out of one hundred. Now I would say about ninety to ninety-five. Why?"
"I was taught how to make cuendillar when I was in Salidar, and my strength in Earth helped me greatly. But after Cyndane was brought down into the camp, I talked to her about the Seal and the Bore of the Dark One's prison."
"You think that it could be possible to remake the seals for the Dark One's prison? We know that the final seventh seal is crumbling. But how do we know that we do not get it wrong, if we do remake the seals?" Elayne had a glint in her eyes.
Egwene stared at Elayne, and suddenly it dawned upon her. "Elayne, you can't say that you have been…"
Elayne pulled out a box and opened it. Inside were seven perfect circles, with the symbol of the Aes Sedai of the Age of Legends on it. "Seven seals to seal the Dark One's tomb for the Ages-with an added extra. When Cyndane was here, I also talked to her, mainly about Rand, who she called Lews. How we shared the love for the same man, despite there being three thousand years between the two men we loved. She aided me in the making of these Seals-using the True Source, the Power of the Dark One." She stared at Egwene's stern face. "It did not effect me-only the Seals. These Seals will not only absorb any force by human means, but also by any channelling, Aes Sedai, Asha'man or Dreadlord. These seals will be impregnable, for all eternity."
"Elayne, do you know how and when we have to place the Seals?"
"When the Dark One is finally beaten in Shayol Ghul."