A/N- With the Lord Logain thing, yes, he is the false dragon from the books. Right now, he hasn't started his little crusade. About the Lord part, if I recall correctly he was a minor Lord in Ghaeldan, minor but still a Lord.

With the question, some people say it does and some say it doesn't block Saidin. I read back to one of the later books and know that it 'melts' the weaves that touch it directly, but doesn't stop the effects of weaves that have already been made, i.e., Mat is struck and killed by Saidin lightning in book five, Elayne and Nynaeve lifts and throws pebbles at him with Saidar. If somebody can tell me of a page number and a book where the fox head either prevents or allows Saidin, I'd be very grateful.

Note: to the one reviewer who commented that the crystals wouldn't hold much Saidin, you're right. Maybe one or two weaves at most, and not very powerful ones at that. But, you can quench the urge to draw in Saidin by holding the crystal and drawing in the Saidin without using it.

The Peddler van had entered the northern borders of Ghaeldan two weeks after they had departed from the Two Rivers. First they had gone north to the only crossing over the river nearby. The Mountains of Mist on the west sheltered the Two Rivers, with woods surrounding them. These mountains were almost impossible to travel over, if fact, nobody in the Two Rivers had even tried for centuries. To the east was the Waterwood, a boggy marsh that was impossible to cross. To the south was at the White River, a large river with no bridges or crossings at all. So Tavern Ferry was the only crossing out of Two Rivers.

The town of Tavern Ferry had impressed Mat and Perrin. It was not as large as Baerlon even, but to the isolated villagers of Two Rivers it was huge and imposing. No walls surrounded the town but two towers stood at the entrance, built of aged stone.

"Those towers there were once Manetheran's towers and there were once hundreds of them. But in the Trolloc Wars the Trollocs destroyed most of them as they razed and destroyed all they could find," Gruthcomb had told Perrin and Mat, who listened eagerly as they waited for the Ferry that would take them west and onto the road to Ghaeldan.

So, fourteen days later the Peddler Van had entered the Ghaeldan border as the sun was reaching its peak. Rand didn't see what Mat had been so excited about; to him the forests and trees that had seen since departing were the same as Two Rivers. They hadn't passed any towns; Gruthcomb had taken pains to avoid all other life. During the nights, Rand would teach Mat some of the simple songs he knew on the flute. Mat picked them up easily enough and never stopped playing the flute, unless he was practising his quarterstaff against Perrin. He was very fast and quick with it, while Perrin was a lot slower and often received whacks on his bare skin.

Perrin was a lot more suited for the axe and even the hammer. His strength was double that of Mat's and even Rand's, and he could use his heavy axe with his right hand while wielding the hammer in his left hand. Often Rand would teach Perrin the few sword stances he knew that used two blades, and Perrin would adapt them to suit his needs. Sometimes, as Rand watched Perrin practise with vigour, he would almost pity any Whitecloaks Perrin might come across.

"We're past the border," Gruthcomb said abruptly, squinting into the distance. "Do you see that ridge over on the horizon? When you can see that, you know you in Ghaeldan." He sat on top of the van, holding the reigns to the horse while Rand, Mat and Perrin walked alongside it. Rand was feeling a little tired, more tired than he should have, but it was nothing compared to what he had been like just as he came to the Two Rivers.

Mat looked eager and excited, almost jumping up and down on his feet. "So, where's the town we're going to?" He asked.

"Only a day from here," Gruthcomb said, a relieved smile coming on his sweaty face. He looked far more calm than he had when he had hired Rand, Mat and Perrin, and his face no longer carried the tense lines and frowns. "We made it boys. Maybe the reports were just rumours, I haven't seen a single Whitecloak at all."

"Oh well, the trip was well and fine," Mat said, his eyes sparkling. "Hey Perrin! What are you going to do with your ten silvers?"

Perrin looked up, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "Did any of you hear that?" He asked, frowning in confusion.

"There's nothing there Perrin," Rand said, for the seventh time today. Lately, Perrin claimed he had been hearing things and once he claimed to have smelt a rotting deer carcass that had been a five minutes walk away.

"Perrin?" Mat asked again.

"I'll probably save it. I might see if I can buy some good silver from the merchants and make my mother something in the forge, maybe a brooch or a necklace." Perrin said.

Mat scoffed. "I'm going to find an Inn and get somebody to teach me the dice. Of course, there'll be a pretty barmaid to serve my drinks."

Perrin shook his head, hiding a small grin. Mat could sometimes be a shameless flirt. Suddenly his head lifted into the air and he sniffed, cocking his head as if he were listening to something. He could hear them, or see them…it was confusing. They were all around him, curious and excited. Images flashed through his mind when 'they' tried to talk. It was hard to convey the images to words, but Perrin felt he was getting better.

Light! What was he thinking, getting better? He could hear voices; see things he hadn't seen before! Maybe…maybe he was like Rand, maybe he was going insane because he could channel! He had tried to block off the voices that had appeared once the party had left Tavern Ferry, and sometimes it worked. Other times it didn't and he was forced to listen to Night Eyes brag about his kill to his mate, could see the thick legs that moved him forward and feel the excitement and adrenaline rushing through him as he jumped through a set of bushes, his teeth gleaming and white as he lunged at a startled deer's neck…taste the tangy blood and the delicious meat…NO!

Perrin shook those thoughts out of his head, growling softly under his breath. He was a human! Maybe it would stop once he got back to the Two Rivers, he could only hope. But right now, images were flashing through his head, two legs were coming on beasts with four legs. There were only a few of them, but in front of the party hundreds of two legs were moving on their beasts. Another image flashed in his mind, brilliant white and a shining sun…and Perrin suddenly knew that 'they' were trying to tell him!

"What about you Rand?" Mat asked, wiping his sweaty brow. "What will you buy?"

"Passage to Caemlyn, maybe Fal Dara and Tar Valon." Rand answered. "I have friends there that I need to see,"

Mat whistled. "Tar Valon? You'd go to the home of the Aes Sedai? You've heard the stories of them, you know, burning villages that annoyed them and whipping kings and queens that displease them!"

Rand snorted. "I've only known two Aes Sedai, but the stories are lies. No Aes Sedai wants to annoy a King or Queen lest they evict the Aes Sedai from their borders, like Amadicia."

"Rand, somebodies coming." Perrin suddenly said abruptly.

Rand and Mat turned to face Perrin and the Peddler van slowed to a stop as Gruthcomb watched Perrin with worry. For a moment, all three could have sworn they had seen a golden glint to Perrin's eyes but when he looked up, dark eyes stared back with determination.

"They are coming, from behind and in front of us." He said with such certainty that Gruthcomb whimpered slightly. "Whitecloaks."

"How many?" Rand asked slowly, eying Perrin strangely.

"Coming towards us from the rear…maybe seven or eight." Perrin answered; aware of the incredulous and disbelieving looks Mat was giving him. "In front of us, hundreds."

"How can you be sure?" Mat demanded.

Perrin hesitated. "Look, they're coming!" He said finally. "Believe me or not,"

"They can't find us!" Gruthcomb burst out, his eyes panicked and wild. "They'll take my van, say it's for the Light. And If I refuse…I'll be a Darkfriend and they'll hang me! They've done it before!"

"What is it that you have that is so important that you don't want Whitecloaks having it?" Mat suddenly demanded, whirling on the Peddler, who mopped at his sweaty brow with a grubby handkerchief.

"I told you, a rare and authentic parchment. A thousand years old at least, maybe two thousand." Gruthcomb snapped angrily, but he was looking decidedly nervous and he kept squinting behind him and in front of him, looking for any Whitecloaks.

"What's on it?" Rand asked.

Gruthcomb hesitated and that was enough for Rand.

"What do Whitecloaks hate? Darkfriends and Aes Sedai. So you must have something that relates to one or the other."

"It's an unedited original version of one of the Prophecies of the Dragon Reborn." Gruthcomb suddenly said. Mat flinched and Rand winced at that.

The Dragon Reborn was supposedly the reincarnation of the original Dragon three thousand years ago, who led the forces of light against the forces of darkness. When the Dragon was reborn, the Dark One would begin to break the seals on his prison and eventually would be set free. Then the Dragon would fight him at Shayol Ghul. Nobody knew whether the Dark One or the Dragon Reborn would win, the prophecies didn't say.

There had been men claiming to be the Dragon Reborn in the past, some of them had been able to channel and some hadn't. People had flocked to them and they had been known as False Dragons, bringers of war and destruction. According to the Prophecies, there were several key factors that would determine the true Dragon Reborn. He would be born on the slopes of Dragonmount, the mountain where the original Dragon had died. The Dragon Reborn would also take over Tear. Many False Dragons had tried and had failed. Inside of the Stone of Tear was a crystal sword, known as Callandor, the sword that could only be drawn by the true Dragon. Whoever possessed Callandor was the Dragon Reborn.

Hardly anything else was known to most of the world. The most ominous prophecy known as that the Dragon Reborn would break the world again. Three thousand years ago, just when Saidin had been tainted, men had drawn in the power and had destroyed towns, cities, mountains and even islands. Ocean flooded in the land and earth was lifted from the oceans. Humankind was bought to the brink of extinction and most technology and knowledge was lost forever. The Dragon Reborn was doomed to break the world again, just after saving it from the Dark One.

"Why would…?" Mat began just as thundering hooves sounded from around the bend. Eight horses appeared, galloping madly. When the head of the company noticed the Peddler Van he raised his hands and the horses snorted, slowing to a trot as their riders came closer. The leader jumped down from his horse, dressed in typical Whitecloak garb. He wore a pure white vest and cloak, with a golden sun ensign stitched on the right breast and the back of the cloak. A gleaming silver helmet lay on his head and chain mail rand down the mans thighs, over white trousers. Peeks of chain mail could also be seen through the man's cloak and his dark eyes regarded the group imperiously.

"A Peddler?" He asked, his voice deep and throaty. "Have you come to pay for the Light's glorious expedition?"

"Nay, Light-walker," Gruthcomb said, his nervousness plainly seen as he wrung his hands together from the top of the Peddler Van. "I bear my Lords profits from the North."

"Well, your van and profits will unfortunately, need to serve the light. Andor and its Darkfriend witches are plotting to destroy the Light, and all that is holy and good." The Whitecloak drawled. "I take that there is not a problem with this?"

Gruthcomb opened his mouth and hesitated, just as Mat glared at the Whitecloak with fire in his eyes.

"Yes, there is a problem!" He said angrily

Perrin shook his head in resignation and even Rand stifled a sigh. Mat didn't seem to notice as he and the Whitecloak stared off at each other, the Whitecloaks hand drifting towards a sword and Mat holding his quarterstaff by his side.

"Child Verom, Child Javerl, approach the van and take what ever you think is valuable." The Whitecloak ordered. As two Whitecloaks disengaged from their group and approached the van, the man smiled humourlessly. "It is for the Light," He said.

Mat said nothing but as the two men approached, hands on their swords, his quarterstaff blurred. He slammed the pole into one man's head and jabbed the other end into the other mans stomach. Both men kneeled over as Mat slammed the quarterstaff down on their backs and sent them sprawling to the ground.

Perrin growled angrily, whether at Mat or the Whitecloaks, and as the leader drew his sword and the rest of the men advanced, he opened his cloak and lifted his axe with one hand and the hammer with the other. Rand drew his sword and moved into a defensive stance as Mat shot the leader a cocky grin.

"So, you do not serve the light," The leader mused. Gruthcomb began to stutter out something but the leader raised his hand and he fell silent. "If you drop your weapons, we will be merciful. No man may walk so long under the shadow that he may not come back to the light."

Rand didn't say anything and either did Perrin or Mat. The leader sighed and gestured, and there were five simultaneous scrapes of swords being unsheathed. Mat suddenly looked a bit nervous as if he finally realised what he had gotten himself into, while Perrin looked grim and Rand sought the Void, emotion fleeing as he calmed his mind and body. His sword tingled in his hands, he could feel every single particle of the blade and it was bound to him, tighter than any limb.

"The Children of the Light will advance and kill whoever tries to delay and halt the progress of light!" The captain called loudly. Five men walked forward, swords out. Three men had large shields, while one man carried a bow on his back.

"Rand?" Mat asked, his confidence gone as he swallowed. But his hands remained firm and steady as he held his quarterstaff out in front of him "What do we do?"

"I don't suppose that there is any chance of you getting back on your horses and leaving us and the van alone, is there?" Rand asked the leader, who stood back and watched with a cold smile. "No, I didn't think so,"

With a quick flick of his sword, Rand jumped forward, the blade clashing against one of the Whitecloaks swords. Instantly he was a flurry of movements as he duelled with three men at once. With a roar, Perrin also jumped forward, his axe slashing through the air and his hammer raised and met the fourth Whitecloak. Mat hesitated, but groaned and confronted the fifth man. His quarterstaff whirled and smashed into the man, sending him staggering but not damaging his armour or sword.

Rand's sword whirled and flicked. Swallow takes the Branch met River under Rock, before Rand had to step back as another blade whizzed through the air, intent on cleaving his head from his shoulders. Mountain Falls slammed into a shield, and for a second there was a grinding noise as the shield cracked where the blade had struck it, just as Rand sidestepped and sliced his sword over his shoulders. He knocked a blade from the way and the tip of his sword met the exposed and meaty flesh of somebodies neck. For a second the man stood there, dazed and puzzled. Confusion flooded into his eyes and suddenly he was a man who knew death had come for him and panic twisted his features, fear and horror shining in his eyes as blood leaked from his wound. Life fled from the man and he fell to the ground with the limpness of death, his blank eyes staring out into a world of death. Rand didn't feel anything, no shock or disgust or pleasure, his mind wrapped in the void as he confronted the other two men.

Mat whirled his quarterstaff, thrust and jabbing it as he moved forward, a small grin on his face. For a moment he could pretend that he was at Bel Tine, and sparring with his father and friends. He laughed a laugh of enjoyment as he struck the Whitecloak again, knocking the man aside. The Whitecloak shook his head, shaking of the after-effects of a blow to the head, and with a roar of anger, lunged at Mat.

Mat stopped laughing as he glimpsed the pure fury and rage in the eyes in front of him. The man wanted to see him die, and without a second thought Mat dropped to one knee and jabbed with his quarterstaff, the end smashing into the man's stomach. There was an audible snapping noise and the man howled with agony as he staggered back. He dropped his sword, glaring furiously at Mat and with one hand clutching his ribs; he withdrew a belt knife and lifted his arm back, preparing to throw it. Mat was quicker and with a well-practised speed, a dagger appeared in his hand and he lunged it at the man.

The man dropped his knife, his eyes staring at the dagger implanted into his chest, and without any other sound he dropped to the ground, death already upon him. Mat breathed hard for a second, his eyes wide with shock. What had he done? But determination and stubbornness shook his shock away and he grabbed his quarterstaff, read to fight again. Suddenly he saw a looming figure approaching Rand. Without another thought, Mat hurled a knife.

Perrin roared angrily, his axe slamming into a thick metal shield. Splinters of metal broke away as the man in front of him screamed, his arm probably broken by the force of such a blow. His sword flashed widely and Perrin grunted as something sharp tore away at his shirt. Blood stained his skin as the sword left a shallow slash on his shoulder. With a growl he lifted his hammer and swung it at the man, while he jabbed the head of his axe at the shield again. The man cringed as the broken arm holding the shield bent backwards but ducked the flying hammer and moved forward, his sword raised high. The next hammer blow struck the shield and the cuendillar proved its worth. The shield bent backwards and folded inwards, snapping like a twig at the force and material of the hammer. The man screamed again as the axe flashed and the spiked end dug into the man's head. Perrin was gasping for breath as he removed his axe and turned to the other sounds of fighting. He didn't feel any regret or shock or horror. Just a faint pleasure that the rival pack-wolf was dead…and approval clouded his mind as wolves howled in the distance. The Whitecloak leader was approaching Rand from behind, his sword raised and Perrin reacted.
Rand ducked a wild blow and stabbed his sword deep into the shield in front of him. The Saidin enhanced blade tingled as the particles that made up the structure of the blade hardened, and the man gurgled from behind the shield as the sword stabbed into him, breaking through the shield and planting itself into his ribs. There was movement at the corner of Rand's eyes and he ducked, letting go of his sword. The man with the shield toppled, the sword binding both of the together, as the last man swung at Rand's head. He missed and gave a shout of surprise as Rand lunged at him, elbows and knees striking into weak areas of the body as Rand used all of his Aiel teachings. A fist planted itself in the man's stomach and Rand felt a tinge of pain inside the Void as he struck chain mail, but the man still gasped as the breath was knocked out of his body. A knee came into the groin, a foot cracking a kneecap and a palm slamming the man's nose back into his brain. Rand panted for breath, looking around. Mat and Perrin were looking behind him with horror and warning on the tips of their tongues, Perrin sprinting towards him, and Rand whirled around.

The Leader stood there, blade raised and ready to impale Rand. There was no way for him to dodge, nowhere Rand could go to avoid or escape the sword. As the leader bought the blade down, Rand stiffened and stood strong, his hands curling into fists as he prepared to deal one last blow, when a knife flashed over Rand's shoulder. The Leader gave a short scream of agony as a knife stabbed into his shoulder just as an enormous roar echoed from behind Rand and a blur streaked forward. Perrin used his shoulder to push the man back, fury etched onto his normally calm and pleasant face. The leader was thrown to the ground as Perrin lifted his axe and ended the battle with a dull thud.

Rand stared at Perrin, glancing between him and the dead Whitecloak. Perrin was breathing heavily but a familiar light glowed in his eyes, the light on one who enjoys the rush of battle. Rand was positive that his eyes flashed a golden colour again, but he didn't care.

"Thankyou," He said, with as much gratitude he could muster in his weary state.

Perrin continued to breath deeply but managed a weak smile.

"What about me?" Mat protested, grimacing as he dug a knife out of a Whitecloak's body. For a moment he stared at the wet dark blood at the end of the short blade, his eyes slightly wide and dazed. He then wiped it on the Whitecloaks trousers and placed it in his sheath.

"Thankyou as well Mat," Rand said. "You saved my life, both of you,"

Mat gave a weak grin. "Well, without you we would have been killed…so fairs fair,"

"Are they gone?" Somebody whispered and Gruthcomb peaked over the Peddler van. His eyes bulged at the sight of the dead Whitecloaks and he started moaning.

"No, no, no! Every Whitecloak in Ghaeldan will be searching for us now!"

"Then we better remove the bodies," Rand said calmly, yanking his blade from the shield and chest of a Whitecloak. His mind was still wrapped in the Void and emotions flittered at the edge of it, disgust at the sight of broken bodies, slight pain in his hand and the slight resignation that he had killed a human being again.

"Too late!" Mat said tightly, pointing down the other road. In the fight, Perrin had forgotten the other company of Whitecloaks and now hundreds of horses and men advanced as dots on the landscape. One of them pointed at them, he probably had a looking glass, and suddenly the horses went into a gallop.

"Gruthcomb, we need to leave!" Rand called urgently

"My van…" The man blubbered as he jumped off the rood, slightly green when confronting the bodies.

"There's not time!" Perrin snarled. Mat blinked at the tone of his voice but it didn't seem to hinder Gruthcomb who dove into his van and remerged a few seconds later with a box in his hands.

"Where do we go?" Mat asked Rand anxiously.

The Whitecloaks stampeded closer and Rand grabbed him, pushing him into the trees that surrounded the road. Snaps and cracks of twigs behind him told him that Perrin and Gruthcomb had followed. Together, Rand and Mat dove and darted in between trees. They ran for a full five minutes, crossing a small stream and diving behind a large tree trunk, panting for breath.

"Do you think they'll find us?" Mat mouthed to Rand, who frowned.

"They can't use horses to get into the trees…but they have a lot of men to search with. We need to hope that they are urgently needed somewhere, and they can't waste time looking for us." Rand whispered back. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked around and noticed something. "Mat, where's Gruthcomb and Perrin?"

Mat jerked his head and looked beyond the trees, "Blood and Ashes!" He swore.

Lord-Captain Wentrelli frowned in disgust at the mangled bodies in front of him. Six children of the light lay dead, another two with broken spines. Only Darkfriends would dare attack a man who walked under the light. An empty Peddler van lay on the road, the mare snorting nervously at the two hundred horses in front of it.

"Child Janill," He called out. "Have you found anything?"

"Tracks, my Lord. There are maybe three or four people and they extend into the forest. They probably saw us coming the same time we saw them," A scarred-faced man with one eye growled.

"We are needed at our camp in the Mountains of Mist," Wentrelli said, frowning. "We cannot delay, the Witches are using Andor as a puppet for its designs and we must free Queen Morgase in the name of the Light. We cannot tally here,"

"My Lord, they murdered Children of the Light!" Janill growled in protest.

"You will stay here with twenty lances and track them down. Find them and execute them for their crimes. Lieutenant Prarld, your unit will accompany Child Janill and will hunt down these Darkfriends. The rest of the legion will advance at a gallop!'

Perrin peered between two trees as horses thundered past. It was like a storm with continuous thunder and Perrin had to squeeze his hands over his ears as he watched the Whitecloaks leave. Soon they were gone and silence descended over the forest. The birds started singing again, quietly and slowly, as Perrin peered out again. He stiffened and drew back quickly as he saw two dozen or so Whitecloaks on horses, muttering to each other. They seemed to be discussing something and as Perrin watched, six of them went into the forest on the left and six went into the forest on the right, where Perrin was. The other eight or so started setting up a small temporary camp around the abandoned and deserted Peddler van.

We are here

Perrin stiffened as he saw a flit of images, his mind automatically translating them for him. He slowly turned around and saw a large wolf, with a grey gleaming coat of fur and two yellow eyes. Perrin didn't move an inch, his breathing laboured and his legs shaking. A wolf was right behind him! Carefully and slowly, he reached for his axe, that on his belt and the wolf frowned.

We do not seek to harm you, Brother

Perrin froze. He had just deciphered a wolf's expression and it was talking to him.

"You're the voices I've been hearing?" He spluttered out in amazement. Light, what was happening to him?

Come. I will take you to Pack.

"Where are the others? There were other humans, do you know where they are?" Perrin asked desperately.

Your pack is in hiding. They are safe. Come!

As the wolf trotted away, Perrin hesitated but heard the crashing of twigs and branches as the Whitecloaks came ever closer. He had nothing to lose, so he quickly darted after the wolf.

"Gruthcomb!" Mat whispered sharply. The man in question was crawling on the ground, dirt and twigs stuck to his clothes. His face was sweaty, his stomach heaving and his eyes were wild and fearful.

"They're tracking us! Six of them!" He hissed as he crawled on his belly, working his way closer towards the tree where they hid. "Help me! They're behind me!"

"Halt Darkfriend!" Came a cold and loud voice. A Whitecloak sneered at Gruthcomb as he and five other companions followed the man out form the trees.

Rand and Mat pressed themselves against the trees as the Whitecloak who had spoken nodded approvingly at another.

"Good work Janill," He praised. A scarred face man with one eye bowed at the compliment, then grimaced as he looked at Gruthcomb.

"Where are the others?" The Whitecloak demanded. He had blue eyes, his face hidden behind a helmet, and his eyes were cold and hard. "Where are the other Darkfriends?"

"I…I don't know! Help!" Gruthcomb shouted loudly, before he grunted as one of the Whitecloaks kicked him sharply in the stomach.

"What are their names? Where did they come from? Where are they?" The man continued. Gruthcomb said nothing and he motioned with his head, jerking at the Peddlers direction.

Gruthcomb suddenly screamed and Rand tightened his grip on his sword. He held out three things and nudged Mat, who was looking pale and wide-eyed but determined and angry. He flashed the fingers, and then exaggeratedly put down one, then the other. He nodded once and motioned to his sword and jerked his head towards the Whitecloaks. Mat nodded and held out his hand. Three fingers…

"Stop it! Please, I'll tell you anything!"

"Where are they? Where did they come from? What are their names?"

Two fingers…

"I-I don't know…Please…Alright, alright! Don't do it again!"

One finger

"They…come from the Two Rivers, it's in Andor! Please…don't hurt me…no!"

Rand and Mat burst out from behind the tree, sword and quarterstaff out. A Whitecloak spun around just as Rand skewered him with his sword, kicking the body off and slashing the face of another Whitecloak nearby. Mat was whirling his quarterstaff with vigour and fury, wood smashing into knees, elbows and heads. He jabbed the end of the quarterstaff at the scarred-faced man, who roared as his last eye was struck. As he staggered around blindly, Mat jabbed the other end into one of the Whitecloaks throat. There was a loud snap as the man fell down limply.

Rand severed an arm, blood spraying from the wound, and as the man screamed in agony he thrust the blade into his heart. Pulling it out, he whirled around and with Hammer on Anvil, cut open his head, killing him instantly. The only Whitecloak left was the man whose face he had slashed, and he disappeared into the woods as Rand turned to face him.

Mat stared down at Gruthcomb in pity and horror. The peddler was lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from three stumps that were once fingers. Rand absently wandered if the Whitecloak had cut the fingers off as Mat was miming with his, and he gently picked the bleeding and weeping man up.

"Light, they're animals!" Mat growled with disgust and horror.

Rand said nothing as he frowned. "We still haven't found Perrin," He said.

"He'll probably go back to the wagon," Mat said.

"We'll go to the wagon then, but we'll have to be quiet. One of them got away and he'll be back with others." Rand warned. "Mat, help him up."

The wolf continued his pace through the forest, trotting happily with his tongue wagging out. Perrin had to jog to keep up with it as the wolf jumped over fallen logs and avoided whipping branches. Perrin wasn't so lucky and many a time he received a branch that whipped him across the face, or stumbled over a moss-covered log. At these times the wolf would turn to him and if Perrin hadn't known better, would laugh or snicker at him.

"Oh shut up!" Perrin snapped at one point as a branch whipped in his face, leaving a stinging mark.

The wolf stopped and turned its head; it's golden eyes gazing into Perrin's own.

I heard that Two-legs were clumsy and slow and you prove me right

Actually, it was a flicker of images. 'Two legs' was a faint outline of a standing man; 'heard' had been a wolf cocking its ears, 'clumsy and slow' had been an exaggerated image of a wolf continually falling over nothing and slowly standing back up again, and 'right' had been the wolf in front of him standing proudly and smugly.

"Are we close?" Perrin asked.

Why do you use bark?

Perrin frowned, but suddenly the wolf jumped into the foliage and when Perrin growled angrily and followed him through, he appeared in a small clearing in the centre of a pack of wolves. Large wolves, small wolves, wolves with grey in their fur, wolves with brown in their fur, wolves with golden eyes and wolves with gleaming teeth, they were there, at least two dozen of them. They stared at him, regarding him speculatively as the wolf that had led him here joined the pack.

I am Night Eyes

The largest wolf in the clearing stepped forward. His fur was had a faded grey sheen to it and a nasty scar had been torn into his flank. Still, his eyes gleamed with intelligence and the look of a predator, one who was confident in taking down his prey.

"I'm Perrin," Perrin introduced himself slowly. In some part of his mind, he marvelled at the sheer absurdity of what he was doing. Light, he was talking to wolves! And they were talking back!

The wolf frowned, Perrin didn't even want to know how he knew what a frowning wolf looked like, and tilted its head, eyeing Perrin with what could be regarded as puzzlement.

You bark loudly Brother. Speak like this

"I don't know how," Perrin said.

Learn.

Perrin suddenly felt images flash through his mind, a continual barrage that almost made him drop to his knees as light, sound, colour and smell assaulted him. He clutched his head into his hands and he could suddenly feel the wolves around him, their tightly coiled emotions and just their presence.

I do not know how! Perrin suddenly stopped, amazed, and he touched his head with trembling hands.

We have long memories. We do not forget the times when Brothers hunted at our side, even if they do

What's happening to me?

You are wolf-brother. The wolf said so obviously that it was clear that it made perfect sense to the wolf.

There are two-legs hunting me and pack. Perrin communicated, his mind whirling as he spun out the images that made up the wolf language easily.

You have pack? Night Eyes said, sniffing Perrin closely. Perrin held still as the wolf came right up to him, his nose brushing against Perrin's clothing until it reached his axe. Strange teeth you bear. You will be Young Bull.

Perrin could suddenly see an image of himself as depicted by the wolf, a two-legs with two shiny spikes sticking from his head. As Night Eyes continued sniffing, his nose reached the white hammer and he yelped out loud, jumping backwards.

Shadowkiller! Shadowkiller is pack?

"Shadowkiller?" Perrin asked out loud, frowning in puzzlement. The other wolfs shifted and Perrin could feel a direct sense of awe and respect emanating from them

Who used your hard-tooth?

"This was Rand's." Perrin answered blankly, before frowning and concentrating. Pack-mate.

Pack-mate is Shadowkiller. Night Eyes thought. Shadowkiller fight Slayer at dark peak to save cubs

Shadowkiller is in danger! Perrin communicated desperately. Sun-holding Two Legs hunt pack

Night Eyes growled softly, his hackles rising up. He suddenly howled and Perrin could feel the fury that burnt from him, the utter rage that somewhere would dare hunt Shadowkiller. Light, what had Rand done to make the wolves think this of him?

They approach. Come, hunt with us

Perrin unhooked his axe and hammer and as the wolf pack suddenly howled together with collective rage and anger, Night Eyes broke into a trot. Perrin ran beside him, his axe and hammer high as adrenaline and the rapidly becoming familiar sense of battle-lust, a roaring tide in his veins. As he sprinted with the wolf next to him, he felt a sense of belonging and enjoyment as side-by-side, wolf and human darted between trees and under branches. Suddenly six figures on foot came into view. Night Eyes howled angrily as they fumbled with their swords and lances, just as Night Eyes jumped at ones throat and Perrin howled loudly himself, his axe and hammer swishing into the air.

"There's eight of them, and twenty horses between them." Mat said grimly. "Light, we're doomed."

"We killed five of them, so that leaves fifteen. There's nine down there, so six of them must be looking for Perrin," Rand said calmly, his mind wrapped and contained within the Void. His sword tingled, light just beyond his reach glowed around it. Saidin beckoned him, but as usual Rand ignored it as a futile and useless hope. He had been gentled, every time he tried to draw that Saidin it slipped away through the crack in his mind.

Suddenly a lone wolf howl echoed over the road. Horses snorted and stirred as the nine Whitecloaks guarding the Peddler van hurriedly moved to calm them down. Rand could see the man with the slash on his face being treated by a sour faced Shienaran, grimacing and flinching every time the Shienaran Whitecloak touched the cut. Eventually he pushed the other man's hand away irritably and stood up, his hand clenching around a sword. Seven of the nine Whitecloaks carried short bows, arrows nocked and ready.

"What do we do?" Gruthcomb asked fearfully. His good hand was clutched around the small box he had taken from his van, which Rand assumed contained the prophecy that this Lord Logain wanted so much, while his bleeding hand was wrapped in a bloodied hankerchief.

"We wait until we get a good chance," Rand told him.

"But…they're not looking this way. We could…couldn't we just slip down the road?"

"What about Perrin?" Mat snapped angrily.

Gruthcomb fidgeted. "Well, Um...it's to say that the poor man is probably…"

He was interrupted by a flurry of wolf howls. They were somewhere on the other side of the road, and the horses snorted, agitated and upset. Suddenly a loud human pitched loudly before being cut off without another sound. Rand and Mat watched as the Whitecloaks quickly aimed their bows towards the tree line, their backs facing Rand and Mat.

"We should go now!" Mat whispered suddenly. "They're not looking at us?"

Gruthcomb moaned a pleading denial but Rand ignored him as he gestured for Mat to follow him. The both of them crept down the slope, past the trees and stepped onto the road. The howls continued, a flurry of anger and the pleasure of the hunt, and they kept the Whitecloaks towards the tree line, their bows raised and arrows nocked. The howls were getting closer and closer and the man with the scar on his face was visibly arguing with the Shienaran. Suddenly he leapt onto his horse, dropping his sword, and dug in his heels amidst the protests of his fellow Whitecloaks. The horse bolted down the road, trailing after the other legion, just as grey streaks burst from the trees. Rand only got a glimpse of Perrin, his eyes definitely golden and holding a blood-coated axe and a shiny white hammer as he jumped forward with the grace of a wolf. Speaking of wolves…a pack of them followed Perrin from the tree line as they howled in a symphony of battle cries, jumping for the Whitecloaks.

Arrows flew as the Whitecloaks let loose a volley, and three wolves crumpled to the ground with wooden shafts sticking from their heads. Perrin visibly growled at that and swung his axe, cleaving a man's head off.

"Light!" Mat breathed in horror as the wolves tore through the unprepared men, most who never got a chance to reach for a second arrow. Even Rand winced as wolves tore into their throats, blood matting their fur. Most of the wolves went for the horses, which were snorting and screaming loudly, rearing up as wolves surrounded them. Some managed to break free of their restrains and bolt away, but one or two grey streaks always followed them. In the distance, Rand could see the newly scar-faced man watch from a distance, before he gave a silent yell and urged his horse on.

"Perrin!" Mat called out, flinching as three snarling wolves moved forward. Suddenly they stopped and backed away, their ears dropped and their tails wagging slowly. They wined, almost as if they were apologising, and Perrin looked up. His eyes were golden all right, alight with an animal instinct. He stood in front of the pony that towed the Peddler Van, which was extremely nervous and still.

"Mat? Rand?" Perrin called out, his voice rough and guttural. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Are you alright?
"Light Perrin, what is going on?" Mat asked in a wavering voice as both he and Rand moved towards Perrin. The smell of blood and raw meat stank in the air, but Rand ignored it because of the Void and Mat ignored it because he was a farmer and such smells were no unusual for him. A grey-furred wolf with a scar on his flank looked up from one of the horse carcases and trotted towards the pair, a slab of bloody meet in his jaws.

"He's asking if you want some Rand," Perrin suddenly said.

Mat stared at him incredulously and disbelievingly and Rand eyed him strangely.

"Tell him that I'll pass." He said. He grimaced as he stepped over the body of a mangled human, his face unrecognisable, and eyed the wolves surrounding the area. "Perrin, is there something you'd like to tell us?"

Perrin shifted on his feet nervously but explained what had happened. At the end, Mat was staring at him with a horrified look in his eyes.

"You can talk to wolves?" He asked.

Rand, however, was frowning. "Where have I heard that before?" He murmured to himself. "Ah, that's right!"

When Perrin and Mat looked at him, he shrugged. "I was once travelling with an Aes Sedai and she was telling me a lot about the White Tower, and how she got there and how she grew up. One day she was describing the Red Ajah and mentioned that not only went after men who could channel. Any man with any sort of talent or something out of the ordinary was subject to them. Anyway, Alanna was telling Huin…a friend who was with us…how a warder had once discovered that he could talk to wolves. The Red Ajah wanted to gentle him and he flat out called them Darkfriends and escaped, killing a warder. The Red Ajah wasn't happy."

Perrin's mouth was dry and he had to lick his lip several times. "The Aes Sedai, they'll…hunt me if they find out?" He asked hoarsely.

The wolf that had offered Rand the meat tensed and looked alert, its eyes wide open.

Perrin noticed Rand staring at it and grimaced. "Night Eyes says that wolves are wary of Two-Legs-who-wield-flames-of-sun-and-lightning-of-clouds, I think he means Aes Sedai." He said.

"Well, I won't tell anybody. I know what being gentled is like…I wouldn't want it to happen to you as well. Besides, I don't think this has anything to do with the One Power." Rand said, frowning in through.

"It's older than that," Perrin said, his eyes distant. "Older the One Power, older the humankind, older than the wolves…"

Mat shifted on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something before he sighed. "Perrin, you're my friend. So I mean this in the nicest possible way when I ask you what in the Dark One's name have you gotten yourself into?"

Perrin sighed softly" I don't know," He muttered and looked so downcast that Mat sighed as well.

"Oh cheer up," He grumbled. "At least you can tell the wolves to stop eating the sheep,"

Perrin smiled slightly then frowned as he gazed past Rand and Mat. "Is Gruthcomb coming down?"

Mat turned and beckoned to the Peddler, who was still watching with wide eyes as the wolves loitered around.

"The wolves know you," Perrin abruptly told Rand.

"Really?" Rand asked, slightly amused.

"They call you Shadowkiller," Perrin said quietly. "They say you fought a Slayer…or Slayer, at dark peak. There's only one dark peak I know of,"

"Shayol Ghul," Mat whispered. He switched his gaze from Perrin to Rand, then back to Perrin.

"I didn't actually fight him there," Rand said, grimacing. "But yes, I visited Shayol Ghul."

"Light, burn me!" Mat muttered.

"Rescuing cubs?" Perrin asked.

"Children," Rand supplied.

"Light, burn me! No, Light burn you! You're both as bad as each other!" Mat growled angrily. He fidgeted and then spat to the side, looking sour. "That's why you need somebody normal like me around to keep you from doing stupid things."

"I do stupid things?" Perrin asked Mat, a smile curving on his lips. "Who put bitterroot into Nynaeve's tea?"

"She called me a sheep-brained fool!" Mat protested.

Rand smiled at sound of his two friends and he watched as a quaking Gruthcomb was led down from the trees by two large wolves, his eyes filled with fear.

"Please…" He whimpered, holding out his hand slightly to Perrin. "Don't kill me?"

Perrin flinched and stepped backwards, while Mat glowered at the Peddler.

"We just saved your life!" He said. "Now, take us to this town, give us our money and we'll all be happy!"

Gruthcomb nodded hastily and glanced uneasily at Perrin. "What about the wolves?" He asked.

"They won't bother you." Perrin promised.

Gruthcomb nodded slowly and prepared the reigns on the pony.

It was only a day's ride until they had arrived in a small town. The buildings were made from grey stone and had slanted tiled roofs, and the folk were dark eyed and dark haired. Rand, Perrin and Mat received curious looks, probably because of the blood on their clothing as Gruthcomb led the van through the town and approached a moderately large manor.

Mat whistled as they approached the large iron gates, where two men with battered armour and rusty swords stood lazily outside.

"Wait here," Gruthcomb instructed.

"You better come back." Mat warned and Gruthcomb flinched at the tone.

"Of course," He reassured Mat, before he drove the horse forward and left Mat, Perrin and Rand outside the gates.

"Ten Silvers, I can't wait!" Mat muttered.

It was five minutes before somebody approached. It was a tall man in his middle years Rand supposed he might have been handsome, with long, dark curling hair and clear blue eyes that held a strength and authority in them. As he approached, the two guardsmen left, leaving the stranger alone with the three Two Rivers men.

"I am Lord Logain," The man said. His eyes flickered over the bloodstained clothes, the axe on Perrin's waist, the quarterstaff in Mat's hands, and they widened at Rand's Heron-mark blade and absolutely bulged at Perrin's cuendillar hammer.

"That is Heartstone!" He gasped. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at Perrin with interest. "Where did you get it from?"

Wordlessly, Perrin pointed at Rand, and Logain shifted his eyes onto him. Rand stared squarely back at him and Lord Logain smiled slightly.

"I am grateful for what you have done for my man, Gruthcomb. He carried something of great importance that I desperately needed to confirm something." Logain said. He held out a pouch of money that Mat took eagerly, looking inside.

"There must be fifty silvers in here." Mat whispered with awe.

"Sixty," Logain corrected. "Twenty for each, that's ten more for that you were promised. I…" Suddenly he stiffened and frowned, his eyes glazing over in concentrating. For Mat and Perrin, nothing other than that appeared to happen, but for Rand an aura of power and golden blinding light that rushed into Logain, a tinge of black and green flickering inside the light. His sword started vibrating madly in its scabbard and he whipped it out. It too was also glowing in a golden light, reacting to the Saidin that Logain was drawing in. Light, he could channel! And it wasn't pure Saidin from the Eye of the World, but tainted Saidin!

"What is that?" Logain hissed in amazement. A watery blue flow suddenly extended from his arm and Rand slashed at it, slicing it into nothingness. Logain gasped, stepping back as awe and a little bit of fear appeared into his eyes. "Amazing!"

"What's going on? Rand, why are you waving your sword about?" Perrin asked while Mat held his quarterstaff ready.

Inside the Void, Rand answered. "He's channelling. He's using Saidin!"

Perrin stiffened and took a step backwards, almost bumping into a wide-eyed Mat.

Logain hesitated and slowly, he released Saidin. The golden glow shimmered and disappeared and Rand eyed Logain for a minute before placing his sword back in the scabbard.

"That's why you wanted the extract from the Prophecy of the Dragon," Perrin said with a dawning realisation. "You think you're the Dragon Reborn!"

Logain eyed him sharply. "I could very well be!" He snapped. "I can channel and I was born near Dragonmount some years ago. That's what the parchment Gruthcomb fetched for me told me. I might be the Dragon Reborn."

Mat stared at him as if he was a crazy loon, his knuckles white on his staff.

"But you…you are strange," Logain said, turning to Rand. His eyes flickered over his sword and travelling pack. "I thought I could sense Saidin, just a trickle really."

"He was gentled, he can't channel!" Mat exclaimed. His suddenly looked uncertain. "Right Rand?"

"That's right." Rand agreed. "I can't draw from Saidin, the Aes Sedai got to me first."

"Your sword reeks of Saidin, it glows from it!" Logain snapped. "And you posses another item in your pack that Saidin surrounds."

Rand pulled off his pack and opened it up. Taking a clothed bundle, Rand opened it up to reveal two brightly glowing crystals.

"Light!" Mat breathed. Perrin looked awestruck at the beautiful and pulsing crystals and Logain looked as if he might drop to his knees.

"I can feel them! They…they do not carry the taint!" He whispered hoarsely. He held out a pleading arm, his eyes filling with beseeching need, and Rand let him take one. For a moment Logain held it in his hand, before a golden nimbus surrounded him. It was much weaker than before, a tiny faint outline but Logain shuddered. The glow inside the crystal slowly faded as Logain channelled it all into himself. After a minute, he let go and the glowing Saidin returned to the crystal. It was like tipping a glass of water back into the bottle instead of drinking it.

"Amazing!" Logain breathed. "I could feel the fight for life with Saidin, I could feel alive…and no taint rushed to greet me!"

Rand was silent as Logain breathed in deeply, before his turned to Rand, his eyes practically glowing with happiness and excitement. "I will pay you for this, everything I own. I'll give you my estates, just let me keep this!"

"The Saidin in that crystal won't last forever," Rand warned.

Logain shook his head. "No, you don't see it. I don't have to channel from the True Source anymore. Whenever I feel the urge to channel, instead of succumbing to the True Source and taking the taint inside of me, I can use this and release it back when I'm done! I can keep myself sane! I'll never have to channel the taint again!"

Rand was silent; he truly hadn't considered that notion before. "Keep it!" he suddenly said. "I've got another one, you can have that one. But don't declare yourself Dragon Reborn, the Aes Sedai will find you eventually and they'll wonder where you got that crystal from. And don't break it!"

Logain looked as if he would kneel to Rand, and bowed repeatedly. "Come in, I'll prepare dinner for you." He invited eagerly.

"We have to leave back for home," Rand said. Mat and Perrin were looking very confused, fearful and wary and Logain picked up the way Rand's eyes flicked towards them.

"Very well. Oh, what is your name?" Logain asked, as an afterthought.

"I'm Rand al'Thor," Rand said.

Logain held out his hand and Rand took it, shaking it firmly. "If you ever need anything, you can come to me and I will do anything within my power to provide it!"

Rand smiled as Logain hurriedly left, cradling the crystal like a newborn child. Sighing, he placed the other crystal away and stood up, only to freeze.

"Why in Light's name did I show him the crystal?" He wondered to himself. The whole meeting seemed to be rushed and surreal, and Rand frowned but shrugged it off.

"Rand, could you tell us what just happened?" Perrin asked in a controlled voice. Mat nodded in agreement, a wary look on his face.

Rand stared at his friends for a long time. If he could trust anybody, it would be those two.

"Well, it's a long story, so I'll tell you some now and some on the journey home. Anyway, It began when I left home…no, it started when I first channelled…"

A/N- A long chapter for you. I pretty much had to drag out the rest of it; my mind was wandering to how I will play out the Caemlyn Rand/Slayer confrontation. Important stuff in this chapter…especially with the wolves, Whitecloaks and Logain. And we see that Rand's Ta'veren thingy is starting to draw in some powerful allies...