In honor of the new book I "Jak0TheShadows" am writing a new story about the greatest fantasy character of all time… MATRIM CAUTHON! Takes place after the Last Battle and Mat is in a common room dicing (of course) when the Gholam that still chases him catches up once again.
You'll notice I don't say the name of Mat's spear… That's because it's hard to spell and I don't have any books on hand. Any other things I missed feel free to point out and I may possibly fix it when I have time or if I'm bored enough.
I "Jak0TheShadows" do not own the Wheel of Time. It is created by Robert Jordan and all the Characters and creatures in it belong to him.
((Fixed the spelling error ))
Mat hated fighting. He once thought that fighting and warring was, while still bad, better than work but has since grown up more and his opinions have flip-flopped slightly. Men can die in war.
It's ironic though because back when Mat thought that fighting was better he had always been forced to do work and now that Mat is of the opinion that work would better he's always dragged into fighting. Maybe it was some cruel joke that the Dark One was playing on him. Maybe, now that Mat has all this incredible luck, this ability to live off of gambling for the rest of his days in a decent amount of comfort, he had all these bloody people chasing him as some sort of karmatic twist.
He dropped the dice onto the table.
The Dark One's eyes, most people thought that unlucky. Mat himself didn't know what to think right now.
"Har har har!" the large, one-eyed man across the table guffawed, "I knew your luck couldn't hold out forever!"
Mat smiled, "Well of course. No man can win forever." Inside he felt numb. It was near. The Gholam which had relentlessly chased him for years had found him again.
Even after the Dark One's prison had been resealed by Rand, not killed or destroyed forever like everyone hoped, and Rand had died in all his flaming glory on the slopes of Dragonmount it had still pursued him.
Mat had been certain that when that bloody Last Battle had been done with it would have stopped but no luck. What's more, Mat had lost his fox head medallion during the battle (which had been AMAZING! Man! You should have seen it!) and thusly had nothing with which to fight off the beast. He'd only survived the last three attacks by pure chance and luck.
"Aye," the man across from Mat grunted as he scooped up Mat's gold into a strange furry pouch, "no man indeed. Well I think I'm done then! Thanks for the gold!" the man laughed and stood up. He bowed awkwardly to Mat and left the common room. Did everyone think him a bloody lord?
Mat picked the dice up and dropped them again.
Dark One's eyes.
Again.
Dark One's eyes.
Again.
Dark One's eyes. Tuon hadn't been as lucky as Mat had in the last attack from the Gholam.
Dark One's eyes again. He'd tried to send her away Mat had. He'd begged her to leave him after they had both barely escaped from the first after the Last Battle. She'd refused. Stubborn bloody woman. Again the dice came up all ones. Tuon had come anyway.
"I won't leave my husband's side now that all the business with war is settled," she had said. Then she had looked down and touched her stomach. "Even more so now."
"That's why you SHOULD be leaving from my side! Especially that! The Gholam is still chasing me and if you are near me when it attacks, you could be killed as well," Mat had practically screamed as he had tried to reason with her. Damn women never listen to reason though. Tell them to go back because it's dangerous and they'll obstinately march forward.
A tear fell on the dice table followed quickly by the dice. This time they landed all on their corners. Every one of them.
Mat stood up and turned to the door. "Hey."
The Gholam didn't respond. Only stood there.
"Listen uh, I'm kind of tired of running you know? So I was hoping we could just finish this tonight."
It still didn't respond but this time it raised an eyebrow at him.
Mat picked up his strange spear off the floor and placed his hat on his head. The Gholam charged at him, arm stretched out. If any one of those fingers touched him the fight would be over. He dodged under the arm and shot passed the Gholm, cutting it's leg as he passed. He knew full well that it wouldn't do anything to the bloodless monster but he did it anyway. It didn't like being cut very much.
Mat turned and struck it again with the sharp of his spear into the gut of the Gholam and it howled in rage. Again Mat attacked it, this time in the throat. A killing blow to anything that can die.
But a Gholam is not a thing that can die. It is created for one purpose and that is killing. Now, with the Dark One dormant, it has an even narrower purpose. Killing Matrim Cauthon.
Mat fought for all of his fallen friends. For Rand. For Perrin and Fae..fal… His wife. For Thom and Olver. For Moraine (who died again after Thom and Mat had freed her from the Aelfinn. Ungrateful bitch.).
He fought for those who still lived.
And he fought for Tuon.
Mat dragged himself into the dice table chair and let his head roll back. His entire left arm up to the shoulder now lay in a corner where it had been thrown following the Gholam's breaking it off. The Gholam was no longer attacking Mat after it had become obvious that he was dying. It had no lust for killing anymore. Now it only wanted sleep. A sleep that could only be granted by Mat's death. So it stood in the door and waited.
Mat stared in awe at the six dice that still stood on their corners. All that fighting and they were still on their corners. He would have chuckled but it hurt to much.
With his remaining right hand Mat grasped the dice and tossed them one last time. They danced across the table beginning with great leaps and bounds which became graceful jumps and spins finally ending with one last majestic twirl. Mat tried to stay alive to see how they landed but they were still spinning when his eyes closed and when the innkeeper had opened up the next morning to find the Dragon Reborn's greatest general in his final rest at a game of dice. He was surprised to find that of the six die on the table five had landed on ones.
But the last one still spun.