He Sleeps Under the Hill Book III Chapter 13: Beyond the Stone, a wheel of time fanfic

Gleeman Bob writes: and here we are, not the Last Battle but the Final Chapter... when I began this novel more than two years ago I didn't think it would take this long to get to the ending I had envisioned, but it did. in hindsight, I should have been a more efficient editor and cut out extraneous detail to a greater extent than I did. shorter chapters might have been a good idea, too! but a writer is often at the mercy of his characters, who want their stories told in full, including the dreaded italicised flashbacks! thanks to everyone who has stuck with HSUtH and written me encouraging reviews and messages, it means a lot to know that there are readers out there who want to know what happens next. well, THIS is what happens next...

WitL!

Once, my father took his boat all the way downriver to the Sea of Storms, and I could hardly pull on the nets for staring south, wondering what lay beyond the horizon…

Siuan Sanche; Watcher of the Seals, Flame of Tar Valon

Chapter 13 * Beyond the Stone

Part I : The Funeral

N'aethan dug himself out from beneath the fallen sail, cursing vilely in the High Chant. They had hit a rock, lost the mast. The mast! It had not hit him on the way down, but could the same be said for his Aes Sedai? But no, there she was, Ellythia Sedai lying in an untidy heap with Rennetta Sedai partially atop her, un-bruised but for her dignity, with any luck. He did not have time to check…

The last of the Atha'an Miere renegades were clambering to their bare feet also, extricating themselves from folds of sailcloth, but there were few enough of them left that the resumed battle did not last very long. N'aethan kicked an axe out of the hands of a burly Darkfriend and skewered him on his sword, used a lethal hand-strike to the throat of another and was facing-up to a third when Cohradin appeared, stabbing viciously with his spear. The Atha'an Miere sank to the deck, clutching her stomach. That was the last of them.

"They do not dance particularly well, do they, Nightwatcher?" Cohradin commented, sounding disappointed, his voice muffled behind his black veil.

N'aethan did not reply, gazed beyond Cohradin, wondering why they had struck the rock. The Sailmaster had seemed competent enough at avoiding them… but there was no sign of the old man up on the quarterdeck, just Jahdi, her veil lowered, looking determined. What was she doing up there? Then, he realised…

"It was you," N'aethan growled, pointing accusingly. Jahdi smiled coldly down at him, then lifted her veil so that only her eyes could be seen, glittering with malice. The night that young Tevin was killed, there had been an extra set of footsteps going up the other ramp to the roof and returning, small feet, those of a woman, not his Aes Sedai. He had suspected one of the Maidens of having a hand in the youth's death and had watched them both closely afterwards, before dismissing his suspicions as being unfounded. But there were Friends of the Dark everywhere, amongst all peoples and nations, even the Aiel. They had a name for them, in fact.

"Shadowrunner!" N'aethan spat, mounting the steps up to the quarterdeck. Jahdi tensed, raising her spear, but he had no intention of killing her. He would try to take her alive, he wanted to hear from her lips, why… why she had betrayed them. And what plans the enemy, the Darkfriend crone, had for them.

Shrinalla Sedai had other ideas, however. Climbing the steps to the other side, her tear-filled eyes were fixed on the old man lying slumped beside the wheel.

"You killed grampy!" she sobbed, pushing past her Warders and advancing on Jahdi, ignoring the bloody spear-tip that wavered on the verge of stabbing at her.

"Have a care, Shrinalla Sedai," N'aethan cautioned, "I will deal with her…"

"No, I will!" snarled Cohradin, coming up behind him.

Shrinalla Sedai ignored them both, taking another step forward, backing Jahdi up against the rail of the quarterdeck, careless for her own safety.

"Die, Aes Sedai!" Jahdi hissed, stabbing with her spear – but the pointed blade slammed to a halt an inch from Shrinalla Sedai's breast, as though it had encountered some invisible wall.

The Aes Sedai smiled grimly. "No," she said softly, "you can die."

A bright, searing lightning bolt leapt from the clouds overhead and touched Jahdi with a flash. A stench of burned flesh and she screamed and tumbled backwards over the rail. There was a splash, then nothing.

Shrinalla Sedai gazed down into the water. "I hope that didn't kill her," she muttered, tonelessly, "she deserves to drown."

"Shrina, your grandfather is still alive!" It was Rennetta Sedai, crouching by the old man. "Just barely, but his heart still beats…"

Shrinalla Sedai whirled round and knelt beside her grandfather. He smiled up at her, a trail of blood running from the side of his mouth.

"Little vixen…" His words were barely audible, Shrinalla Sedai leant closer.

"Grampy! I will try to Heal you, hold still!"

"No… too late… for that…" Summoning the last of his strength, the old man gripped the front of her gown, pulling himself closer with visible effort. "I want you to… I want… you to get…" and as the light went out of his eyes, a final word emerged, a soft sigh of escaping air as he breathed his last; "…married!"

Ellyth held her friend as she wept, feeling Shrina's hot tears on her neck. She watched as the Twins carefully folded the body of Master Tolamani in a thick blanket and bore it away. There was a bloodstain left on the oak planks that would need to be scrubbed away, she thought, somewhat distractedly. Then shook her head, annoyed with herself. There were more important concerns, after all. Strange, though, what occupied one's mind at times like this…

The ship's hull groaned as it settled further onto the rock; even had they not lost the mast, clearly they were not going anywhere. And that big Atha'an Miere ship was still out there, its draft too deep to enter the shallows, but packed with more of the Darkfriends. Where had they come from? How had they known where to find them? Were they acting under the orders of-

Abruptly, Ellyth realised that the platinum ter'angreal-ring she wore was glowing again. Frowning, she embraced the Source and channeled Spirit into it. Just a thin flow, to see what would happen. It was then that she heard the voice;

"Hello, Ellythia-dear."

She had heard those warm, grandmotherly tones before. She frowned.

"It's me, your old friend."

Ellyth scowled ferociously, an expression mirrored by Shrina, scrubbing the tears from her face and staring at the ring. She had heard that voice before too.

"What's the matter, my honey-bun, does the cat have your tongue?"

"Kirikil!" Ellyth hissed, making the word sound like a vile curse. Well, it was, as far as she was concerned.

"The granny from the Blight!" Shrina whispered, "what does she want?"

"I want to watch you squirm, in point of fact. I'm watching you now, through a looking-glass that young Duadh was good enough to lend me. You seem upset. Has something bad happened? I do hope not."

The cracked old voice, kindly with false concern, continued to emerge from the ring she wore. Ellyth gazed at the Darkfriend ship, but could make out nothing at that distance. Shrina turned her back on it, dabbing at her face with her sleeve.

"You appear to have struck a rock. Are you perhaps thinking of abandoning ship, going ashore? How well will you fare in the Blight, I wonder? Not very."

"Your Darkfriend spy is dead!" Ellyth hissed, for want of anything better to say.

"Yes, I saw the lightning. Poor Jahdi. She did her work well, though, don't you think?" A chuckling sound emerged from the ring. "Very well indeed, for an Aiel savage. Good help is so hard to find."

"Enough of your taunts, you vile old hag! What do you want?"

"Is it not obvious, Ellythia-dear? I want to gloat. Oh, and look behind you."

Unwillingly, Ellyth did so, casting her eyes on the shingle beach that lay one-hundred spans to their lee. Nothing moved beyond the lapping of the waves, but in the forest beyond, she saw shapes appear through the damp foliage, tall, bulky figures wearing heavy mail, spikes at their shoulders and elbows. Beast faces with horned heads. Moving amongst them, dark riders in serpent-scaled armour. They held banners depicting the forked-lightning emblem of the Ghraem'lan band. They flowed out of the forest to line the beach in their hundreds, then their thousands, and continued coming until it seemed that every Myrddraal and Trolloc in the world was gathered there, and still they continued to come.

Ellyth realised that her mouth had gone dry, and swallowed reflexively. Every eye on the ship was fixed on the beach, on the army of the Shadow gathering there. Finally, they stopped emerging from the forest and stood still, eyeless faces and blood-shot orbs alike fixed on their quarry.

"Light," Ellyth heard Renn say, "there must be at least ten thousand of them…"

Silence reigned for a moment, then the Myrddraal drew their dark blades and held them aloft. "V'kaish!" the Trollocs roared. "V'KAISH!"

The kindly old voice spoke from the ring a final time, sounding almost conversational. "That is what they call me, my Spawn of the Shadow. Their name for me. They think that I don't know what it means. Oh, and by the by, dearest Ellythia… the tide is going out."

Mitsu's wrists were bloody, the skin scraped raw, but she was almost free of the final loop. The noise of the battle above her head was ended but the ship had clearly struck a reef of some kind… there would be confusion amongst the oathbreakers, the perfect opportunity to escape. With a final wrench her hands were free and she bent hastily to worry at the knots that bound her feet together, keeping a wary eye on the hatch that led above. Just a few more seconds was all she needed. Unwise of the enemy to leave her alone and unwatched for so long. Learning how to free oneself from bonds was one of the many skills a Bloodknife was taught. All it took was the ability to ignore pain, and a lot of determination.

Mitsu persevered and soon her legs were loose of the ropes. She rose, stretching her cramped muscles. The hatchway seemed to be blocked with canvas; the fallen sail, presumably. She had heard the mast come crashing down. She crept up the ladder and crawled out onto the deck. A dead man lay nearby, dark-skinned with tattoos on his hands, both of which still gripped a knife. Mitsu grabbed the weapons and ducked out from under the canvas. The deck was littered with more of the corpses and she looked around herself, getting her bearings, sighting land just beyond the rail. She tensed. The chami was there! Its beast's eyes widened with surprise at the sight of her.

Mitsu did not hesitate but flipped the knife in her left hand and threw. The chami should have ended wearing the point between its eyes but somehow it caught the blade and looked at it with bemusement. Again, Mitsu did not hesitate. Clutching the remaining knife between her teeth, she threw herself over the side of the stranded ship, hitting the water in a clean dive and striking out for the beach. Cowardly of her to run from a fight, but one could not fight a chami, clearly, one could only flee. Flee to-

Mitsu's eyes widened as a wave lifted her and she got a good look at the beach. A shouted voice sounded from over her shoulder;

"I would not swim there, were I you. They are not friendly."

The Armies of the Night! It could be nothing else! Giant monstrosities with muzzles and beaks, horns and feathered crests, gripping cruel, barbed weapons. Scattered amongst them; pale, eyeless men on night-black steeds… even from this distance, she could feel a sense of terror at their gaze. She was a Bloodknife! Nothing should terrify her, but they did. Mitsu trod water, the knife still gripped in her teeth, and wondered what to do. Again, the chami called out to her;

"Come back! We will not hurt you, I give you my word."

What was the word of a chami worth? But it was better than facing monsters alone, with only a knife, surely? Feeling chastened and vaguely foolish, Mitsu turned and swam back to the ship. The chami leant down, offering her its gloved hand.

"Spit the knife out first, Seanchan."

Mitsu did so, letting the weapon sink beneath the waves, and took the proffered hand. The chami hauled her aboard easily and she lay on the deck, sodden and dispirited. "What are those things?" she gasped, gesturing toward the beach.

"Trollocs. Trollocs and Myrddraal, Beastmen and Shadowmen. A great many of them. You do not have Shadowspawn where you come from?"

"No…"

"Sounds like a nice place!" The chami made an odd, mewling sound, then stood looking down at her speculatively. "How did you escape your bonds? Usually, when Sin'aethan Shadar Cor ties something up, it stays tied!" Mitsu confined herself to a shrug and sat up warily. Some of the oathbreakers were watching her, and the blonde marath'damane was approaching. "You are bleeding. You will require Healing." Mitsu flinched back as the marath'damane reached down to touch her head.

"Hold still," the blonde woman snapped, and then Mitsu was gripped with the odd sensation as before, making her shiver violently. Her eyes widened as she watched the marks on her wrists diminish and disappear, the pain of her salt-stung wounds dissipating.

"Thank you," Mitsu said, and the blonde marath'damane nodded and moved away, another of the dark-skinned men with the tattoos on his hands pacing her, a hand on his sword-hilt. He gave Mitsu a cold stare as he did so.

The chami grinned, its pointy teeth flashing. "So you are capable of expressing gratitude! Good. If you give your word to cease attempting to kill us then it may be that you need not be bound and guarded again. As you can see, we have other problems to occupy us."

Mitsu frowned at the chami, rising warily to her feet. Her eyes were drawn to the distant beach and the impossible horde drawn up on it. Were all of the old legends real? Creatures out of a nightmare, like from the ancient stories brought over with the Hawkwing's son… but then, the same could be said for the chami… it shrugged.

"Oh very well, you may still attack me from time to time, it is good practice, but I want your word that you will not attempt to harm any of the others. Especially the Aes Sedai."

Mitsu thought about it, then turned her head to regard the chami narrowly.

"Very well. Let there be a truce between us. For now."

The chami nodded, then stuck out its hand. After a moment's hesitation, Mitsu took it, feeling the firm grip through the heavy, shimmering gauntlet, and wondering if the creature did indeed have claws hidden beneath that odd material.

"I swear on the Crystal Throne that I will not attempt to harm you or the other oathbreakers, especially the marath'damane. May the Light blind me and burn my soul from the Pattern should I speak false."

The chami gave her hand a final squeeze, then released it. His eyes slitted slightly and he lowered his voice to a warning growl;

"I am trusting you, Seanchan. Give me cause to regret my trust and you will find that there are worse things in this world than Trollocs and Myrddraal. Much worse."

Mitsu nodded. She did not need to be convinced of that.

Cohradin gripped the dead Shadowrunner by the sash and heaved him over the rail of the ship, into the deep water on the side away from the rocks. Gerom was performing a similar office for another of those who had been so foolish as to attack… that seemed to be the last of them. It was well to clear the decks of the enemy they had waked, though there was plenty of blood drying in the sun to remind them of the battle. The length of fallen mast would have to go over the side also. Cohradin and Chassin gripped one end of it, Gerom managing the other easily enough, and they tipped the long length of wood over the rail with a splash. Manda watched, frowning, teasing at the point of her spear with a fingertip, a nervous habit of hers. At least, Cohradin assumed that she was frowning since she yet wore her veil, but her brow was furrowed by the looks of it. She caught Cohradin's eye.

"Do we have toh to the Aes Sedai?" Manda asked him.

Cohradin was unsure. He shrugged his broad shoulders. One of their number had proved herself to be a Shadowrunner, had slain the Aes Sedai's kin. He wished that there was a Wise One present – though not old Sadora, naturally – to say whether or not the blame lay with the Shaido, for bringing Jahdi with them from the Three Fold Land, to betray the wetlanders. He could not decide such fine points of honour himself. Cohradin shook his head angrily. He did not think they had toh, but there was certainly a question of responsibility, if not of obligation. Well, it was a moot point by the looks of things. Once again, they were in the clutches of the Shadow, and it did not look as though they would escape so easily on this occasion.

The army of Shadow-wrought was yet separated from them by an expanse of seawater, but Gerom had explained that there were things called 'tides' which meant that this water might well recede, leaving them high and dry, in which case there would be a glorious – if rather short lived – battle. Cohradin did not fear this washing of the spears that was to come, he feared nothing but for one thing and that was not his own death, certainly. But it seemed a shame, that the enemy might yet win, that they were back in the power of the Shadowrunning Hag and her followers.

With this in mind, Cohradin turned, shading his eyes with one hand, looking out to sea. The big ship was still there, they had lowered a heavy weight on a chain – an 'anchor' Gerom called it – and though it was distant, it blocked their escape seaward as surely as the Shadow-wrought army did to landward. Not that their ship would be going anywhere, it was stuck fast on a rock and without its mast to boot. Cohradin scowled. Travelling by sea was clearly as chancy a business as trusting to one of those wetland 'horses' to take you where you wanted to go. A man's legs should be good enough for getting about. He closed his real eye, and squinted.

The Shadowrunner's ship sprang closer in his vision, tinged with red. His new eye always made things look red, but he did not begrudge it. On the raised deck at the rear of the ship stood a huddle of people. He recognised the Darkfriend Hag immediately, talking to a pretty young woman in a thin dress, and gesturing in their direction with a bony old hand. A few of the Sea Folk Shadowrunners attending them… and there, at the end of the line, the Lost One in his garish coat and britches, leaning a looking-glass on the rail and returning his gaze. The Shadowrunner smiled, raised a hand and waved, slowly and mockingly.

Cohradin scowled. That fellow again! He was becoming a definite annoyance! He would like to open his throat… give him a red smile to wipe the other from his smirking, Shadowrunning face.

"Cohradin, the Nightwatcher wants you." Chassin was tugging at his sleeve.

Cohradin turned away from the Shadowrunners with distaste. Let them come closer if they dared and he would end tipping their corpses into the water also.

Vron'cor was sitting cross-legged on the deck. He had cut a section of the fallen sail free and was busily sewing it into a shroud. The blanket-swathed corpse of the old man lay alongside, awaiting burial. Cohradin squatted down next to him. He noted that the Seanchan was kneeling nearby, watching closely. She had given something like a water-oath that she would cause them no trouble, but he still did not trust her. Then again, in light of Jahdi's betrayal, what right did the Shaido have to expect trust from the wetlanders? It was a thorny issue of honour, certainly.

"Cohradin, will there be trouble between the Shaido and Shrinalla Sedai?" The Nightwatcher spoke without looking up from his sewing.

"Trouble, Vron'cor? Why would there be trouble?"

"She killed Jahdi."

Cohradin blinked. It was a continual surprise to him… the Nightwatcher carried great honour – did he not protect the sleep of good Aiel children from the monsters that lurked in the night? – and yet he did not live by ji'e'toh. He seemingly had no understanding of certain things. It was strange.

"It was her right, Vron'cor. Jahdi was a Shadowrunner, she woke the Aes Sedai's kin, she deserved to die. I would that I had done it myself."

"Oh. That is well." The Nightwatcher flipped back the top of the shroud, then rose, bending over the blanket-wrapped corpse. "Here, help me with him."

"Wait." It was the Aes Sedai, Shrinalla Tolamani. She knelt gracefully, pulled the blanket aside and leant down to kiss her dead greatfather on the forehead. Then, she moved away, settling into the comforting embrace of her Warders.

Cohradin took the old man's feet, the Nightwatcher his shoulders, and they carefully lifted him into the shroud. The Nightwatcher folded his hands on his chest, then returned to his sewing, closing the sailcloth over the body. A pair of heavy ring-bolts had been torn loose when the mast came down and he placed these at the feet of the shroud before sewing it shut. Cohradin watched. The Seanchan was watching also… no, her eyes were on the old man's sword, which the Nightwatcher had placed nearby.

"I recognise that blade, it is the High Lord Turak's," she said, in her odd, slurred accents, "how did the old man come by it?"

"I know not," replied the Nightwatcher, "but he bore it with honour."

"He was one of those who watched in vain… how could he have honour?"

Cohradin scowled at her. The Seanchan's face was blank, she was not giving offence, merely stating a fact as it appeared to her. Even so… "I saw him dance the blades against the Shadow-wrought… he had much honour!" The Seanchan just looked at him, then shrugged slightly, conceding the point.

Cohradin rose, deliberately turning his back on the watching Shadowrunners, and went over to inspect the army of Shadow-twisted. There were a great many of them massed on the beach, more than he could possibly wake, for all that he was Red-Eyed Cohradin of the Sovin Nai… and it did seem that this 'tide' was indeed going out. The water around the ship was lower and the planks in the hull groaned again as they settled further onto the rocks. The ship tipped slightly but Cohradin kept his feet with easy grace. He pulled a spear from the harness on his back and raised it. The other Shaido emulated him. In the face of certain death, there was but one thing for an algai'd'siswai to do. Cohradin threw back his head, and sang;

"Wash the spears – while the sun climbs high.

Wash the spears – while the sun falls low."

The others joined-in, Gerom's deep bass and Chassin's treble, Manda's high-pitched voice rising above theirs as they sang their contempt for the Shadow;

"Wash the spears – who fears to die?

Wash the spears – no-one I know!"

Thaeus did not know why the Aiel were singing, but it had a mournful sound and his thoughts were black enough already. He wished that they would stop. He stood at the rail, his cloak billowing about him, and gazed steadily at the Shadowspawn on the beach. He had served with Children from the Borderlands, who had told their comrades from the south tales of the monsters that lurked in the Blight, of the never-ending war with the Shadow, but it was one thing to hear of them in stories, another entirely to see them with his own eyes. The battle at the tomb had been over so quickly, he had not had time to observe the enemy as he did now. There were a great many of them, certainly. And they stood between him and-

"I suppose that I won't be walking to Shayol Ghul after all," Thaeus muttered.

"What was that, brother?"

It was Ellyth, looking up at him with a shade of concern, her feathery eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Nothing."

"You should not speak to yourself, it is a sign of madness, yes?"

Thaeus summoned a smile from somewhere and turned toward her.

"Yes. I was merely musing on the difficulties that we now face."

"Difficulties." Ellyth stared at the ranks of Myrddraal and Trollocs that blocked their escape and shuddered slightly. "I wish that you had not come to my aid, Thaeus. It was good of you, but what would father say? You are his heir. When Adlar fell in battle and Jopin succumbed to a fever, you were all that was left to continue the line."

"We have cousins, sister. One of them can inherit." Thaeus touched the heron-marked hilt that projected above his shoulder. "They just will not inherit this, that is all."

"True." Ellyth sighed. "There is no escape this time, seemingly."

His sister was starting to sound as grim as he felt, in fact. Thaeus attempted to lighten her mood. "Your mare escaped from World's End, at least."

"Eradore!"

"Renn Sedai brought her down from Seleisin."

"Thank goodness! I was afraid the Trollocs might have eaten her."

"Well, they did not. We left her at the Watcher's stables with my Rahien and the other steeds. Take heart, sister, we may find a way out of this yet."

Ellyth mustered a brave smile and they embraced, then she turned and glided away. "There is to be a funeral for Master Tolamani," she said, over her shoulder.

Thaeus sighed. He was in a funereal mood already, so he supposed that it was apt. The Aiel ceased their singing and lowered their upraised spears. He eyed them narrowly, wondering if they could be trusted. One of their number had proven false, after all… but no, it was just his mood, making him distrust everyone and everything. Or perhaps it was the madness, affecting him already?

"I am speaking to myself, after all," Thaeus said to himself. Across the intervening water, he gazed at the Shadowspawn, gathered beneath their dark banners. They gazed back. The tide was going out.

Shrina looked upon the shrouded corpse of her grandfather with dry eyes – she had wept all she could for now – glad at least that she had avenged him. His final words came back to her… marriage? She was too young for that, surely! She felt the worried gaze of the Twins on her, felt their concern through the Bond. She gave them a reassuring smile, which didn't fool them in the least, before resuming her puzzled frown. What had grampy meant? That she should marry her Warders? She couldn't wed them both, she was not Myrelle! But nor could she possibly choose between them… it was typical of her grandfather to have given her such a quandary with his last breath.

Shrina pulled her gaze away from the shroud and wished that she had not. The beach that was black with Shadowspawn was scarcely a welcome sight, and did not improve her mood. They had a scant few hours before the tide was low enough for the Myrddraal and Trollocs to attack, but they would not find her easy prey, she was determined to sell her life as nearly as she might. It angered her that it had come to this, however, that the filthy old hag had seemingly won. She glared at the Darkfriend ship, wishing that it was not out of range of her channeling – she would like to make them dance with her lightnings, as the Aiel put it.

Ellyth came over, touched her arm gently. "It is time," she said.

Shrina nodded, and the others gathered around. The Twins lifted the shrouded corpse of her grandfather and carried it to the rail on the opposite side of the rocks, where deep water churned beneath the painted eye on the hull. Naythan Shieldman produced a fiddle and began to play a slow, mournful dirge. He had changed his gauntlets for soft leather gloves and his fingers were sure on the strings. Shrina felt the music pull at her heart and fought back fresh tears. Her voice when she spoke was steady, however;

"We stand assembled to return the body of Ashoka Tolamani to the deep. His Watch is over, his duty done. May the last embrace of the waves welcome him, may he be reborn in the Light, world without end, world and time without end."

Shrina was proud that she had managed to get through her speech without bursting into tears and at a glance from her, the Twins carefully lifted the weighted shroud over the rail and let it fall into the sea below. A muted splash and it was over.

Shrina turned away, caught Ellyth and Renn's eye. She nodded toward the cabin beneath the quarterdeck and they went below and sat on the bed, hugging each other in commiseration. "What are we going to do now?" she said, despairingly.

They had no answers for her. There were none to give.

Aebel and Blaek gazed carefully down over the side of the ship, but there was no sign of Master Tolamani, the shroud had been heavily weighted and the water at this end was deep. They exchanged a wordless glance, thinking the same thing. They often did this. They were thinking about marriage…

"You two young oilfishers don't know one end of a ship from the other! Do you call this a properly coiled line? Because I don't!"

Aebel and Blaek exchanged glances. The Sailmaster clearly didn't like them, he had been making that much clear from the moment they had met.

"Stop looking at each other and look at me."

They looked at the Sailmaster, somewhat rebelliously. The line was properly coiled, a neat piece of work, he was just making up excuses to berate them!

"It is properly-" they began to say.

"And stop speaking at the same time, it gives me the willies!"

Master Tolamani glared at the Twins. They glared back, but in subdued fashion. He was the captain of this ship, after all, though it was not much of a ship. It was alright for Jabal, up there at the wheel, but the Sailmaster had been riding them hard all morning, making them reef and set sail constantly… and they had another nine days of this before they got to World's End to rescue Ellythia Sedai! It was not fair.

"Why my grand-daughter chose you two specimens to protect her is beyond me. At least, she calls it protection. I call it something else." Master Tolamani spat over the rail in disapproving fashion, and crossed his arms.

The Twins glowered. They were Warders, not… what was that word he had called them? Ah yes, paramours. Whatever it meant. They exchanged another glance. They had gleaned from remarks she had made that Shrina's grandfather was a somewhat formidable type, not to mention difficult, but they had had a good opinion of him… until they met him, at least. Had he not chased the foolish Gleeman, Roth Blucha, out of town with a hatchet? That was a mark in his favour, certainly. But in person, he was proving to be something of a trial. And the line was properly coiled, they had been going to sea since they were boys, they knew what they were about!

"The least you loafing oilfishers could do is make an honest woman of my little vixen," the old man muttered, digging out his pipe.

Aebel and Blaek glanced cautiously about, but there was no sign of Shrina, she must be below with Renn Sedai… they pitched their voices low, just in case.

"We have asked Shrina to marry us!"

"Many times!"

"Many times indeed!"

"But she refuses our suit!"

Master Tolamani blinked. "You have?" He sounded suspicious. "She does?"

"Shrina says that she is-"

"-too young to get married!"

In Mayene, though it was an old custom that had largely died-out, occasionally brothers or close friends would marry the same woman. Shrina did not think much of the customs of Mayene, however, and had made this abundantly clear on the few occasions they had dared to broach the subject. She preferred the status quo as it was. Master Tolamani considered a moment, then shrugged.

"Well, keep at her. She'll come round." He turned and stumped away, back to the quarterdeck. "And coil that line properly!" he added, over his shoulder.

The Twins sighed and exchanged a wounded glance. But Master Tolamani was less hard on them after that. That was something, at least.

"Now would probably not be a good time to ask her," Aebel said, eventually.

Blaek sighed, and nodded toward the Shadowspawn on the beach. "We may not get another chance."

N'aethan winced, and resisted the urge to cover his ears. The Spawn of the Shadow had begun to beat on kettle-drums and blow upon horns, producing a cacophony that his sensitive hearing could only deplore. He had put his fiddle away since he could scarcely compete with the vile music of the Shadow, in this instance. And removed his soft leather gloves, put his gauntlets back on. He had done so down in the hold, where there were no eyes to see. The Shaido knew about the claws, and he had shown Ellythia Sedai his weapons, but he had no way of knowing how the others would react to such a sight. The Seanchan kept looking at his hands, he had noted, perhaps she was wondering what he kept under the gloves…

He could see long streaks of wet sand beginning to appear on the beach, below the shingles, and the Shadowspawn horde had moved closer, though none seemed ready to venture down into the lapping waves. But the tide was definitely receding, it would not be much longer before the enemy were able to attack. They were trapped.

N'aethan made a soft, growling sound under his breath, though there was no-one else up on the quarterdeck to hear. He did not care for traps.

He smelled the Seanchan's scent before hearing a soft footfall. She was very good at moving quietly, were it not for the faint creak of a wooden plank that betrayed her, he would have heard nothing. He tensed slightly, but did not turn his head.

"We are trapped." Her soft slurring voice spoke his thoughts. Had she read his mind? Anything was possible, he supposed.

"That we are, Mitsu." It was the first time he had used her name.

"What are you going to do about it, chami?" she enquired.

N'aethan resisted the urge to sigh. What was a chami? He turned to face the Seanchan, spreading his gloved hands in an impotent gesture. "What can I do?"

"You can use your powers."

N'aethan snorted with exasperation. "And what powers might those be?"

"You know very well. You can summon a magickal fog and spirit us away from here." Her tone was scornful.

"I can?" N'aethan was bemused.

Mitsu's voice was firm, and brooked no nonsense. "Chami can turn themselves invisible. They can do many things. You know this."

"That is well to know, then. Would that I were a chami, we would all be saved. Unfortunately, I am only a Shieldman, so-"

"You are no man, chami."

"That is one thing we can agree on, at least."

Mitsu scowled. "If you do not save your Aes Sedai and the rest of us, it proves only that you are in league with the Shadow, with the Armies of the Night." She turned on her heel and stalked away.

N'aethan blinked. Well, that was telling him. He eyed the Shadow-wrought on the beach, wondering how many he could kill before one of them killed him. Quite a few, he thought, he was confident of that. But not enough. Not nearly.

"Shieldman!" It was Shrinalla Sedai down at the foot of the steps, Rennetta Sedai at her elbow. N'aethan favoured them with a bow. "Ellyth wants you."

"Coming, Aes Sedai." N'aethan slipped down the steps and knocked on the cabin door, wondering why Shrinalla Sedai had given him a roguish smile on the way past. The ways of Aes Sedai were strange indeed. And had grown a lot stranger, as far as he could tell…

"Come in." N'aethan entered the cabin. Ellythia Sedai was sitting on the bed. Her speech was a little unsteady. "Close the door and… and lock it, please." N'aethan did so. "Naythan, I…" her voice faltered and she rose, extending her hands. She looked uncertain of herself. She looked beautiful. N'aethan approached. She took his hands, tugging off his gauntlets and dropping them to the deck. He could not help but blush as she examined his claws, as she had before, when she kissed him. She looked up at him with her large, dark eyes, glistening faintly, as though with unshed tears. Her voice steadied as she moved closer, pressing herself to him, brushing her lips against his.

"We are going to die, it seems and I…" it was Ellythia Sedai's turn to blush, which she did furiously, her pale cheeks suffused with blood, "…and I have no wish to die a maiden. Not to put too fine a point on it. You will help me with the buttons on my gown, yes?"

"Honour to obey, Aes Sedai."

"Be gentle?"

N'aethan knew that Ellythia was not speaking merely about the buttons, and as he lowered his Aes Sedai to the bed, returning her somewhat frantic kisses, he was determined to be as gentle as possible.

Part II : The Stone

Lord Thaeus of House Desiama watched from above as Naythan Shieldman came out of the stern cabin, buckling on his sword belt. The object of his attention looked up; large, cobalt eyes staring, and they nodded politely to each other. The Shieldman mounted the steps up to the quarterdeck and leaned on the rail beside Thaeus, regarding the Shadowspawn on the beach with disfavour. The tide had receded further and the ranks of the Shadow stood closer than they had. They had mostly fallen silent, but for the occasional tattoo of the drums or a call upon a horn. They were waiting. Waiting for the end.

"Curse them," said the Shieldman, cheerfully. "May they all drown!"

"Indeed," agreed Thaeus, easing the ancient, Power-wrought sword in its sheath upon his back. He noted that the Shieldman seemed oddly content for one staring certain death in the face. He put this to him, and received a strange response;

"Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath, to spit in Sightblinder's eye on the Last Day." The Shieldman grinned his alarming, pointy toothed grin. "Cohradin told that to me. It is what the Aiel say, and I agree with it. One should never give up."

Shrina came up to join them, giving the Shieldman a speculative glance as she moved past, which Thaeus wondered about. He was glad to see her, in any event.

"I am sorry for your loss, Shrina," Thaeus said, bowing his head.

Shrina nodded back, then stared at the Shadowspawn, frowning with concentration. Thaeus felt an odd sensation, like goose-bumps on his skin, and abruptly the sea along the beach rose into a succession of towering, white-capped waves. They roared up over the shingle, dragging howling Trollocs back into the sea where their heavy armour sunk them deep in its lethal embrace. The dark steeds of the Myrddraal reared, whickering with alarm and the rest of the Shadowspawn retreated further up the beach. Their horns and drums fell completely silent.

Shrina smiled with satisfaction before swaying slightly, touching her brow. Thaeus offered her a supporting arm which she clutched.

"There. Perhaps they will keep their distance for now," Shrina said, her voice sounding strained. Aebel and Blaek appeared, shoving Thaeus out of the way with scowls, and helped their Aes Sedai back to the deck below. "I need to lie down after that," they heard her say. Thaeus watched her go with concern, then became aware of the Shieldman observing him. He flushed slightly.

"You are worried for the Aes Sedai. That is good. Perhaps you should be her Warder?" The Shieldman's face was blank, Thaeus could detect no ribaldry.

"She already has two of those," Thaeus muttered, feeling self-conscious.

"So why not three? The more the better. You should ask her."

"It is for her to ask me." Thaeus shook his head. The last thing he needed was the Warder's Bond. It would create a link between them, as he understood it… perhaps Shrina would go mad when he did? It did not bear thinking about. He had a secret to keep, even his own sister would want to gentle him if she found out. Though he did feel concern for Shrina, he liked the wild young Aes Sedai who had saved his life, had done ever since they met. But she was only one more person he should be wary of becoming close with, who should be equally wary of him and what he was. The Shieldman was still watching him with those strange eyes of his.

"It would not be a good idea," Thaeus protested, weakly. His head was beginning to hurt. He could feel the call of saidin in the back of his mind, he wished to burn the Shadowspawn. He was sure that he could, if he unleashed the fires within. He wanted to do it. A disastrous action, but he wanted to do it anyway.

"If you say so." The Shieldman leaned over the rail, looking down into the water below. "It was just an idea that…" he trailed off, staring. Thaeus followed the direction of his gaze. There was something down there, just beneath the waterline, something that was not dark rock but a pale grey in colour. An ancient, weathered column. There appeared to be letters and signs carved around its base.

"What is that?" Thaeus enquired. Some relic of a lost city, doubtless.

The Shieldman turned his head and Thaeus saw something in his eyes that had not been there before. Hope.

"What is it? It is, I think, a Portal Stone." Thaeus looked blank and the Shieldman elucidated; "we are in a trap… look upon it as a way out."

After Naythan left, Ellyth lay awhile on the bunk, wrapped in the blanket, before rising to wash and dress. Her mind was in a turmoil. So that was what Shrina had always alluded to in such warm tones! Well, she would no longer have to wonder about such things, now that she had found out for herself. She wished that she had not waited so long, in fact… it was rather marvellous, really. She blushed.

Someone knocked on the cabin door and Ellyth straightened her shawl before calling out; "come in." The garment was somewhat wrinkled but she, Shrina and Renn had decided that they would all wear their shawls for the coming battle; if they were to die then they would do so garbed as Aes Sedai. A small enough gesture of defiance, but it was something, at least.

Cohradin pushed the door open. He had Manda with him. She was scowling. He did not beat about the bush, but came straight out with what he wanted;

"Aes Sedai, Manda has toh to me. I have decided that she will meet it by wearing her hair oddly curled, in the wetland fashion! Will you please do your thing with the One Power to curl her hair?"

Ellyth blinked. "Don't you have anything else to occupy your minds?" she demanded, crossly, "such as the huge Shadowspawn army waiting to kill us?"

"Let them wait, Ellythia Desiama. Matters of ji'e'toh take pre-eminence."

"They do? And just what is wrong with curled hair anyway?"

"Nothing, when it is upon you, Aes Sedai. But Manda is algai'd'siswai, she carries the spear, so wearing her hair curled will certainly shame her." Cohradin nodded firmly, as did Manda. Really, the Aiel were all mad, the few days aboard the ship with others for company had made her forget! But not seeing her way clear to refusing, Ellyth sat Manda down on the bed and weaved the complicated threads of Air and Water, with a little Fire twined in, that she used on her own locks each evening. The Aiel girl's hair was too short for it really, but she managed to give her a respectable amount of ringlets before she was done. Manda looked rather strange. Cohradin grinned, pleased with the results.

"There!" he exclaimed with satisfaction, "you have no more toh to me, Manda. Go, now, and show the others!" Manda frowned, rose and left the cabin. Ellyth heard the Aielmen laughing at Manda outside, and shook her head in confusion. Really, the Aiel passed her understanding! Cohradin bowed to her before slipping out of the cabin, standing aside for Shrina as he did so. She pushed past and went to fling herself down on the bunk, lying on her back, a hand over her eyes.

"I rather overdid it," Shrina moaned, "but the sight of those filthy Shadowspawn made me angry. I managed to drown a few of them, at least. Not nearly enough, though."

Ellyth dipped a flannel in the water-bucket, wrung it out and went to put it on her friend's brow. "You should not over-channel, yes?" she chided her.

"Yes. I mean no. And just what have you been up to in the meantime, my dear Ellythia?" Shrina was smiling up at her, knowingly and somewhat lewdly.

Ellyth flushed. "I do not know what you-" Her breath caught on the last word, the First Oath against lying intervening. She knew very well what Shrina meant!

"Of course you don't. Just you and your handsome, strapping Warder, alone together in the cabin. Whatever in the waves could the two of you have been doing? I wonder. Could it be that..?"

Mercifully, Renn came bustling in and Shrina stopped talking. Ellyth turned to her with relief. Renn looked unaccustomedly excited. There was no library aboard the ship, no rare books for her to discover and delve into, so Ellyth couldn't imagine what had caused the flush in her cheeks.

"What is it, Renn?"

"What is it? It's a bloody Portal Stone, is what it is!"

Renn did her best to be patient. Neither Ellyth nor Shrina had particularly enquiring minds when it came to ancient, lost knowledge, after all. It wasn't their fault that they hadn't studied, too busy gallivanting around looking for Ellyth's precious ter'angreal, that was the trouble…

"It can take us away from here, away to somewhere else," Renn explained, putting it in as simplistic terms as she could. Probably not simplistic enough, though.

"But what use is it to us?" Ellyth demanded. "We know nothing of Portal Stones, none of us has ever used one, yes?"

"Oh, I have," said Renn, breezily.

Shrina gaped at her. Ellyth contented herself with a glare.

"Renn! Could you not have mentioned this earlier?"

"Honestly, Renn," Shrina snapped, "you never spoke of it when you told me what you had been doing!"

"Well, I didn't get around to it… you told me to stop talking, eventually!"

"No I didn't, you were blathering on about that silly eagle of yours so I naturally asked you to be quiet whilst I told you about the Horn."

"Never mind all that!" Ellyth's eyes narrowed. "Renn, this Portal Stone – it took you to another stone, somewhere else, yes?"

"Well, no… not exactly… not straight there, anyway."

The land all around them was sere and barren, washed-out, as though they rode through a grim landscape painted by an artist who had used too much water to mix his palette with. There was a sense of distant dread about the place.

"I am not sure," Renn muttered, "not sure whether this is worse than the Ways or not…"

"It is just as bad," responded Jabal gloomily, before raising his voice, with an accusatory tone, "and I am telling you, wife, I did see it!"

"Honestly! A big scaly frog-monster, the size of a bear…"

"It was in the bushes. It was looking at me!"

"…with three eyes?"

"It made a growly sound and then hopped away… by the time I woke you, it had gone!"

"Nonsense! You brought some brandy from that inn in Seleisin, doubtless. Drunken sailors and their tall tales!"

Jabal scowled. "There were no three-eyed frog-beasts in the Ways," he muttered.

"No, just Shadowspawn and horrid voices in the wind!"

"It would just be nice to travel somewhere by ship," Jabal sighed, "and not through disturbing places that are empty and dead. The waves are not dead, they are alive, beneath your feet…"

Renn smiled, and heeled Willim of Maneches alongside Cabalaeor, patting her husband soothingly on the arm. Eradore, who was doing duty as a pack-horse but did not seem to mind, followed-on.

"Well, once we get to Falme and ensure that the missing girls are well – if they're even there, I fear that I have rather gone astray from my original intent in leaving the Tower – well, after that, we may certainly…" Renn trailed-off, scowling. A black speck in the distant, grey sky, rapidly approaching. "Bloody ashes! It's come back! I hoped it wouldn't, though I suppose it would not be fair to the poor creature, to get left in this place…" With a squawk, the eagle landed on the heavy, leather hawking-glove that Renn had hastily dug out of her saddlebags and put on. Jabal scowled at the eagle, then shaded his eyes, peering ahead into the grey gloom.

"You are sure, there is another of these stones of the Age of Legends, up ahead?" He sounded doubtful.

"Of course! Old Verin studied it, and she is always very meticulous. It's on Toman Head, I remember exactly where it is from her map… the way this strange reflection-world is all shrunk, we should reach it before the end of the day." Renn glanced around herself and shivered. "If it is day… oh, and Portal Stones don't come from the Age of Legends, but even earlier, apparently."

"But if another Aes Sedai studied these stones, how do you know of it, Mistress of my Heart?"

"Because I was the unlucky Accepted who had to copy-up all of Verin's notes after she got back from studying them on Almoth Plain! I remember, she had a nasty case of the sniffles…"

"Renn!" Shrina was shouting at her. Renn blinked.

"What do you mean; 'not exactly?' " Ellyth demanded.

"Never mind that – I am sure that if we link, we will be able to go somewhere else… anywhere else… though the Portal Stones require a great deal of the Power."

"To move this many people, we would need an angreal!" Ellyth protested.

"And we don't have a bloody angreal because neither of our Ajahs would ever trust us with one!" bemoaned Shrina.

"Oh, I have an angreal," Renn revealed, holding up her angreal. "Sorry, I forgot I had it."

"Oh… Renn!"

The tidal water had dropped lower, uncovering most of the Portal Stone. It stood immovably, jutting up from the sand. Looking at the dark rocks all around, N'aethan was beginning to think that they were too smooth and angular in shape to account merely to the working of erosion by the sea; some had the look of columns or lintels, carved by stone-cutters. They were seemingly in the midst of the wreckage of a city of the Age of Legends, as they called it now. He wondered which one. M'Jinn perhaps, it had been far to the north and there had been a Portal Stone inside this city, Father had said so. The ancient Aes Sedai had made a brief study of them, for which N'aethan was grateful, it gave him a scant amount of knowledge to pass on to Rennetta Sedai, at least. Barely enough to satisfy her craving for ancient lore, however…

"But I thought Age of Legends Aes Sedai must have used Portal Stones all the time," she was protesting.

"Forgiveness, Rennetta Sedai, but their use was little understood even in those times," N'aethan responded, with an apologetic shrug. These people of the Third Age had strange ideas about the Aes Sedai of his day, they seemingly thought them capable of all sorts of marvels, flight included. Only Kiam had been able to fly, and her invariable ability to remind her Sisters of this had not helped her popularity. "They came from the Age before," he added, weakly, "they were a mystery."

"Well, I have managed to sort of use one," Rennetta Sedai muttered, "we will just have to hope for the best. That was more trial and error, however, it would help if I had the co-ordinates of another Portal Stone to take us directly to…"

"There was one near Larcheen, down in the south," N'aethan suggested, "may I borrow your notebook, Aes Sedai?" Rennetta Sedai handed it over, along with a stub of pencil, and N'aethan drew a triangle broken by three squiggles on the page. "It had this sign upon it, at the top… is this any help?" He passed the notebook back.

"It might be… down south, you say? What, near Tear, or Illian?"

"I have not heard of these places, Rennetta Sed-"

"Renn!"

"Renn Sedai, mean I, but it may well be."

"Well, we will just have to place our trust in it." Rennetta Sedai's expression firmed, the vagueness absent from her eyes. "It is better than staying here, at any rate. Thank the Light you saw this Portal Stone!" She bustled away to collar the other two Aes Sedai and N'aethan realised that she had forgotten her pencil. He stuck it behind his ear. Cohradin came over to join him. His expression was dark.

"The Sea Folk Warder says that we may soon be travelling to a strange land where everything is grey, and where there are three-eyed frog monsters," he muttered. "He did not tell me, he was talking to the Twin Warders and I crept close and listened. Is this true, Nightwatcher?"

"It might be. But do you not wish to be a Hero, Cohradin?"

"Of course I do! What manner of foolish question is that?"

"A Hero must go to many a strange place, and have many an unusual adventure, before he can call himself a Hero. Or do you fear the unknown?"

"Red-Eyed Cohradin of the Sovin Nai fears nothing, except for one thing, and that is not the unknown! You should not say such things, Vron'cor, even in jest!"

"What is this thing that you fear?" N'aethan enquired, genuinely curious. "You have mentioned it before, but I cannot imagine what it is."

"I shall not tell you, Nightwatcher, unless we were to become near-brothers, only Gerom and Chassin know of what it is that I fear."

"It is like exchanging secrets between friends? I will tell you one of my secrets if you tell me yours, Cohradin."

Cohradin considered. "I will think on it," he said, eventually. He turned and stalked away. N'aethan watched him go. Knowing Cohradin, it would probably turn out to be something foolish, like spiders, or heights. Enclosed spaces, perhaps.

The Aes Sedai came over to join him. Ellythia Sedai gave him a shy smile, which he returned. Shrinalla Sedai was looking at her closely, he noted, and she blushed under the scrutiny. Rennetta Sedai's tone was breezy and brooked no nonsense;

"Very well, if we are going to do this thing then we had best be about it." She peered down at the Portal Stone. "According to Verin's studies, the symbols around the top stand for different worlds to which the stone might take us… the ones around the bottom are for other Portal Stones… I don't see the one you showed to me, Naythan Gaidin."

"Do you know of any others, Renn Sedai?"

"No… I wish I remembered from Verin's notes, but I just don't."

"Then you must use that one. Hold the symbol in your mind when you channel into the Portal Stone and it should take us there." N'aethan wished he was as certain as he sounded.

Shrinalla Sedai frowned. "We will have to link, but why should Renn be the one to cast the weaves?"

Ellythia Sedai poked her in the arm. "Because she has done it before, yes?"

N'aethan nodded. "She is the strongest in the Power," he added, and then wished he hadn't. Three pairs of Aes Sedai eyes fastened upon him suspiciously.

"That is not something that should be spoken of!"

"How do you know?"

"I… I just know, Aes Sedai." Squinting, he could see the auras around them, could tell that Rennetta Sedai's glowed a little brighter than the other's. "I see."

"Stop squinting at us!"

"Forgiveness, Aes Sedai."

Ellythia Sedai was frowning at him, her smiles forgotten for the time being. "When we are at liberty to do so, Naythan Gaidin, we are going to sit down and compose a list of everything you can and cannot do. I am tired of surprises, yes?"

"Honour to obey, Aes Sedai."

Rennetta Sedai nodded. "Then that is settled, I shall control the circle. But I still do not know which of the symbols from the top to use."

Shrinalla Sedai examined them. "One of the ones with the arrow?" she suggested, somewhat uncertainly. "It implies some sort of a direction, at least…"

"But which one? One of the arrows points down, while the other points…"

N'aethan noted that Shrinalla Sedai and Rennetta Sedai were looking at each other excitedly. "Up! It's what that odd fellow who was summoned by the Horn said!" He wasn't sure what they meant by this. He often forgot that Shrinalla Sedai was a Hornsounder, she seemed to dislike the title and certainly did not behave like one of the honoured ones who had been chosen to sound a Horn… but advice from one bound to the Horn of T'oph was not to be disregarded. He knew that much.

"So now we know what to do, we had best do it." Rennetta Sedai produced a brooch in the shape of the White Tooth, what they now called the Flame of Tar Valon. "I found this angreal on Conaia Sedai's body. It isn't the most powerful I've ever seen, but should be enough to… what is wrong, Naythan Gaidin?" N'aethan was staring at the angreal, his mouth hanging open. Surely there couldn't be two like it? It was Kiam Sedai's soldier's angreal, that she had used in the days before she inherited Vora's sa'angreal. An odd coincidence, but a good omen possibly.

"Nothing, Aes Sedai. I will summon the others, we should all stand as close to you as possible when you spin the webs – weaves, mean I." But then, they heard Cohradin's voice;

"Nightwatcher! The Shadow-twisted come!"

Time had run out for them, it seemed.

Cohradin drew the fletching back to his ear and loosed. His arrow – his last arrow – flew true, striking the dark horse between the eyes, and it collapsed bonelessly into the surf, dumping its rider beneath the waves where it thrashed, serpent-scaled armour sinking it like a stone. One less of the Eyeless to have to deal with. A long line of the pale creatures were riding into the sea, driving a mob of the Shadow-twisted before them with whips. The Trollocs waded up to their hips in the seawater, then their chests, and did not seem happy to do so, but they feared the Myrddraal more than they feared drowning, it seemed.

Cohradin pulled a spear from behind his bow harness and slipped his buckler tightly over his fist, preparing himself. The others were doing likewise, their arrows also expended, though the twin Warders were still using their horse-bows, hitting a Myrddraal each time, for what little it was worth. One had to practically pincushion an Eyeless with arrows before it even noticed that you were shooting at it, in Cohradin's experience. Better to aim for the horse. He would have pointed this out to them in helpful tones, if he thought they would have listened, but likely they would not. It was Jahdi's fault, that the wetlanders did not trust them. Curse her!

"Who fears to die?" Cohradin shouted to the others.

"No-one I know!" they responded.

Cohradin leapt forward as a bear-snouted Trolloc scrambled up the side of the ship, its mail armour dripping, and rammed his spear blade into its throat, twisting as he withdrew. Dark blood gouted from its neck, and the creature fell back into the water, replaced by two more; a wolf-muzzled Trolloc that growled as Gerom broke its neck with his bare hands and a goat-faced Trolloc that snarled as Chassin leapt in to neatly cut its throat with his knives. More Shadow-twisted came in their wake, but they were at a disadvantage, unable to use their weapons and climb up to the deck at the same time. Cohradin settled down to the task of killing them.

A flicker of black in the corner of his eye as a Myrddraal vaulted over the rail from its saddle, dark Thakan'dar-forged blade sweeping towards him. Cohradin caught the sword edge on his buckler and stabbed it in the face with his spear, grinning with expectation. An enemy worthy of him!

"Dance with me, Eyeless!" he shouted, circling the creature. It lunged with its sword and he slipped aside, giving it another wound in its chest. Dark blood flowed down the side of its face and it hissed at him with hatred, moving like quicksilver as it attacked. Cohradin was preparing to stab it again when abruptly, a ball of fire shot past so close that he could feel the heat, and took the Myrddraal's arm off at the elbow. Its sword thumped down on to the deck and it looked almost nonplussed for a moment, before bursting into flames.

Cohradin glanced over his shoulder. Ellythia Desiama was there, looking exultant. "Burn!" he heard her cry, over the noise of the battle. The Nightwatcher was at her side, his sword out, neatly decapitating a Shadow-twisted that had got past Manda. Cohradin resisted the urge to point out that it had been his Eyeless – it was unwise to anger the Aes Sedai – and stepping over the twitching, blackened corpse, turned back to the fight. It was going well, he could see, but the sheer weight of numbers would tell in the end, Trollocs were scrambling atop each other's shoulders in order to gain the deck. A thick mass of them thronged the ship in a semi-circle, driven on by their Myrddraal. Cohradin shrugged. Let them come. Death was only death, after all.

It was then that the bright yellow ring of fire appeared around the ship, and things got interesting.

Shrina stared as the fiery yellow ring expanded outwards from the ship in a flaming rush, slaughtering Trollocs, their decapitated heads sizzling into the sea. It kept going, striking the line of Myrddraal with fearsome results, their top halves tumbling from the saddles, their legs still in the stirrups of their headless horses which slumped into the surf. The few remaining Shadowspawn bellowed with panic and began to retreat. Renn was staring at them fixedly, clutching her angreal.

"That was a Ring of Death!" Shrina shouted over the noise, "that's a Battle Ajah weave, Renn, you're Brown Ajah, you're not supposed to know how to do that!"

Renn stumbled a little and immediately Jabal was at her side, bared blade in one tattooed hand, the other supporting her. "It takes a lot out of you," she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes, "I don't think I can manage another of those."

"You've been spying on Green Sisters," Shrina complained. She was not strong enough to weave a Ring of Death herself, which rankled.

"Of course I have, and it's just as well that I did, Shrina!"

Ellyth joined them. "Stop complaining, Renn has bought us some time, yes? But they will be coming again soon." It was true, a new mob of Trollocs was being formed up on the beach, their Myrddraal whipping them into a frenzy. At the same time, a plume of black fire rose from the Darkfriend ship, arcing high into the air, plunging down towards them. Instinctively, Shrina linked with Ellyth and wove a shield of Air over the ship against which the fireball exploded. Another rose to join it, then another. Shrina could feel the strength of the Hag exerted against them, able to channel at such a distance, and did her best to strengthen the shield, wincing each time a new fireball exploded directly overhead.

"That old bag means business!" Shrina growled.

Ellyth smiled in strained fashion, but did not reply.

Renn grabbed them each by an arm and dragged them determinedly over to the side of the ship, where they could see the Portal Stone, entirely uncovered by the tide. "It's now or never," she shouted, "tell the others to gather around!"

The Warders and the Aiel joined them by the rail of the ship, weapons still at the ready, for all that the Shadowspawn had ceased their attack for the time being, that the fireballs from the Darkfriend ship could not be countered with mere steel.

"Remember to hold the image in your mind when you channel, Renn Sedai," Shrina heard Naythan Gaidin shout. She tied-off the weave on the shield above their heads and released the Source, then put herself on the verge of embracing it.

"Now, Renn!"

Shrina felt the Power flowing through her and into Renn, felt the circle completed by Ellyth, and could only watch as Renn squinted down at the Portal Stone.

"Make it work, Renn!" she called desperately, as another fireball exploded above their heads. The shield would be weakening under the onslaught, they didn't have long.

"I'm trying," Renn muttered, frowning with concentration, "I'm trying very hard, in fact!" She took a deep breath. "I think… something is… happening…"

Flicker.

In the midst of channeling more desperately than she ever had in her life, attempting to bring the dormant Portal Stone to life, Renn found herself thinking of the last time she had seen old Verin. Not that she would have dared call her that to her face, of course, she was always 'Verin Sedai' in person. She was a woman of great knowledge, and she had secrets. Her strange ter'angreal, for example…

Verin Mathwin, Aes Sedai, looked at Renn with that calm, expectant gaze… but for a moment, hidden fires seemed to burn in the depths of those small, bird-like eyes, and Renn was uncomfortably reminded of another occasion, years before…

"Verin Sedai? Morvrin Sedai said that I might be able to read residues and that I should come to you to be tested for-" Renn paused, staring.

She had pushed the door of old Verin's study open without knocking, her excitement at possibly having a Talent making her forget the proprieties, just in time to see the mature Brown Sister wrapping an intricate leather bookmark about two volumes… and they disappeared! Just plain vanished. It must be a ter'angreal! A bookmark ter'angreal, that somehow made books dis-

At which point, Renn realised that Verin was looking at her, rather in the same way that her owl might look upon a mouse… she gulped, smoothing the folds of her white novice dress a little, then crept back into the hallway, closed the door and knocked, waiting.

"Come in, child," she heard Verin's muffled voice say.

Dark fires seemed to burn in Verin's usually vague eyes as Renn pushed the door back open… and then, the old Aes Sedai smiled. It must have been her imagination. She proceeded to test Renn – she could read residues! – and neither of them said anything about the odd bookmark.

Years later, and it was the same day that they had left Master Luca's travelling menagerie. Renn had certainly not expected to encounter old Verin of all people, standing outside a barn on Toman Head. There were several horses hobbled nearby, their saddles piled beside them. And there was Verin, muttering with that old Warder of hers… as they approached, both Aes Sedai and Gaidin looked at them, and for a moment, Renn felt a hint of the fear she had felt all those years ago when she had seen that strange bookmark ter'angreal. Verin muttered something to Tomas who nodded to Jabal, bowed to Renn and faded into the night. After a moment, they heard the sound of hooves, galloping away.

"Are you here to follow-up your research on the Portal Stones, Verin Sedai?"

Verin smiled. A placid, friendly smile. "Yes, Renn. That is exactly why I am here."

"Um… I have been searching for some missing girls from Tar Valon – Elayne Trakand, Egwene al'Vere, Nynaeve al'Meara… oh, and Elmindreda Farshaw of Baerlon, in the west of Andor."

Verin smiled that warm smile and glanced back toward the barn a moment. "I cannot help you, Renn. I have seen neither hide nor hair of them," she said.

"Oh…"

"You need not concern yourself about the missing novices, in any event."

"But Verin Sedai, I know who was responsible for their disappearance! It was Liandrin!"

"Yes, I know. I was told."

"But why would Liandrin do that?"

"Simple. Because she is of the Black Ajah, of course."

Renn forced her mind to the task at hand. "I think… something is… happening…" she said between gritted teeth. And it was, just as it had before, when she had used the Portal Stone outside the abandoned stedding… but this time she was trying to transport over a dozen people, not just she and Jabal, and even linked to Ellyth and Shrina, she was not sure if there was enough of the Power to do so. She was drawing as much saidar through the angreal as possible, maybe even a little more, but still, it felt as though they were caught on the verge of something, straining at its limits. Then, abruptly, Renn became aware of something else, nearby, a further source of Power, as yet untapped. She drew on it, and the world seemed to blur.

Flicker.

Thaeus stood with the Shieldman to one side, the Seanchan to the other. The small, dark woman was clutching the power-wrought blade that had belonged to Shrina's grandfather, and it was unsheathed. This made him feel slightly wary since her loyalty was doubtful and she knew how to use it. But she had saved his life, after all. That was a mark in her favour.

Thaeus performed the Leopard's Caress, gutting a ram-horned Trolloc that had clambered up the side of the ship, then turned to face two more – but his feet slipped in the blood on the deck, making him stumble to one knee. A hawk-beaked Trolloc loomed over him, spiked axe raised and Thaeus performed an inelegant thrust to the chest, his blade catching on mail and bone, the sword-hilt torn from his hand. A boar-snouted Trolloc moved in for the kill with its heavy, curved blade – and then the Seanchan was there, leaping and performing a neat Whirlwind in the Mountains, partially decapitating the creature. She offered him a hand, pulled him to his feet and guarded his back while he retrieved his sword.

"Thanks!" Thaeus shouted, over the screams of dying Shadowspawn.

The Seanchan confined herself to a shrug. "Keep your thanks, oathbreaker!" she snarled, before throwing herself back into the fight.

Though he knew that he should not, Thaeus sought the void. He was aware that Renn Sedai was attempting to do something with the One Power, and that their chances of escape lived or died with her success. He wanted to help. He could feel the call of saidin on the fringes of his awareness, but did his best not to answer. The goose-bumps on his skin were coming thick and fast, the air seemed to almost crackle with the Power.

"I think… something is… happening…" he heard Renn Sedai say.

Then, he felt the Source, felt saidin filling him, flowing through him, sweetness and filth combined. Felt it wrench away from him, somehow, as though it were going somewhere else, under the control of another…

Flicker.

N'aethan turned away from the blaze of Power that was the three Aes Sedai, linked in a circle, the auras around them glowing brightly, and stared, shocked. A fourth aura had appeared, and it was flaring around the young Lord Whitecloak! He could channel!

Flicker. Flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker.

Something was definitely happening, happening to all of them. Time seemed to slow; a fireball bursting lazily overhead, the moan of a Trolloc horn oddly distended, the Portal Stone reaching out to enwrap them in its arcane power…

And then N'aethan was somewhere else. It could only be Tel'aran'rhiod. He knew when he was in the Dream World, could instinctively identify the eldritch feel of the place. He was in a small room; oak panelled, hung with rich tapestries, a fire blazing in the hearth. Three people sat at a square table, a fourth chair waiting for him, so he went and sat down. He turned to one of the two people he recognised, sitting to his right, an Aiel youth with his long shanks drawn up in an awkward cross-legged posture, obviously unused to wetland seating arrangements.

"Hello, Tevin."

The youth grinned. "I see you, Nightwatcher."

"I am sorry that you were waked from the Dream."

"It was my time, Nightwatcher. We all must wake some day." The youth scowled. "Jahdi tricked me! She offered to play a kissing game, then cut my throat whilst my eyes were closed! She has no honour."

"You were avenged. Jahdi lives no more."

"I am glad that she is dead."

N'aethan nodded, and turned to the person on his left.

"Master Tolamani."

"Sailmaster, call me." The old man thumbed some tabac into his pipe, which flared to life without him needing to go to the fireplace for a splinter of burning wood, then drew on it deeply. He blew a smoke ring. "Is my little vixen well?"

"Yes, Sailmaster, Shrinalla Sedai is well. We have escaped from the trap of the Shadow and are on our way to somewhere else, via a Portal Stone."

"I don't know what that means, but I will take your word on it, Shieldman. Tell those Warders of hers that I expect them to marry her, all decent and proper. I won't have them living in sin together!"

"I will tell them."

The third person, sitting directly across from N'aethan, was staring at him intently with cold grey eyes. He was a big man with a stony face, long dark hair streaked with silver hanging back from his brow, trailing down past his broad shoulders. He nodded curtly to N'aethan.

"Who are you?" N'aethan asked.

"Atual Aendwyn."

Of course! Ellythia Sedai's former Warder. "You fell bravely in battle."

"I know I did, I don't need you to tell me that." Atual shrugged. "So you're the new Warder, are you?" His tone was disparaging.

"I am."

"Well, I just hope you're up to the task. The Mistress needs a lot of Warding."

"And I don't need you to tell me that." N'aethan grinned. After a moment, Atual's features seemed to relax into something approximating a smile, though his manner remained stern. His gravelly voice spoke again;

"Just see to it that you do a good job. And remember, a Warder's duty only ends when he is dead. Though that is a poor excuse, if you ask me."

"I will remember." N'aethan glanced around himself, bemused. "What is this place?"

"It is a place for waiting," said Master Tolamani, still puffing reflectively on his pipe. "We await our turn to be spun out again. Well, the boy and I do, I am not so sure about the Warder there."

Atual shifted slightly. If N'aethan didn't know better, he would have thought the big, grim fellow was uncomfortable.

"Yes," Tevin enthused, "they say he is to be bound to the Horn of Valere!"

"Stop talking about that!" Atual snapped, "I am no Hero, no Tarwin at the Gap! I did my duty, that is all. That is all any of us can do."

N'aethan felt himself being drawn away, the room around him, the people in it, seeming to fade and become transparent. "Goodbye!" he shouted, "it was nice to see you again!"

"May you always find water and shade, Nightwatcher!"

"Remember your duty!"

And then they were gone, and N'aethan was floating in endless night. Millions upon millions of stars drifted around him, and he found himself focusing on one in particular. Without needing to be told, he knew that the bright point of light was Ellythia Sedai. Ellyth. His Aes Sedai, and his lover. He approached.

N'aethan awoke to find himself curled on the deck of the ship, the others lying around him. Had they failed? Were they still trapped on the rocks? But no, there were trees all around, their sweeping branches hanging overhead. They were in the middle of a forest… the whole ship had been transported by the Portal Stone!

Ellythia Sedai lay nearby, her eyes wide and frightened. N'aethan went to her and she hugged him fiercely, tears streaming down her face.

"It was horrible!" she wept, "I kept reliving my life, over and over, and each time I died I knew that the Shadow had won!"

The others seemed equally shaken by the experience, Shrinalla Sedai and Rennetta Sedai were also sobbing, though the Warders got over it fast enough. The Seanchan woman was gripping the hilt of her sword, white-knuckled, and muttering "no, no, no," over and over again.

Lord Thaeus seemed to be the worst off. He knelt on the deck, his fingers clawed, his eyes raw and red-rimmed. "I wouldn't do that," he mumbled, "I would never do that." N'aethan kept a wary eye on him, just in case. There was no discernible aura around him now, he was not holding the Power, but even so, he was dangerous. A male channeler. He would bear close watching.

The Shaido recovered the fastest, they rose and slipped over the side of the ship to search the surrounding forest for enemies. N'aethan got to his feet, half dragging Ellythia Sedai to hers, and looked down at the ancient, weathered Portal Stone that stood nearby. He recognised it. He had played in these woods as a boy. He inhaled, taking a deep breath of the blossoming trees. The weather was warm, warmer down here than it had been up north. Wherever here was, now. The land had changed so much. They would need to explore.

Part III : The Island

A smoking mountain loomed above the trees, its broken peak sending forth dark wisps of ashy cloud. More of the volcanic mountains towered in the distance, there seemed to be a chain of them extending inland. They were a foreboding sight. N'aethan stared at them, unblinking. They had not been here when he had explored these woods as a boy. A product of the Breaking, doubtless. The land had changed beyond recognition. He turned away, and resumed his digging.

The hole was deep enough by now, he thought, as he dug at the loamy earth with a broken piece of plank from the ship. But he made it a little deeper anyway. The Seanchan woman – Mitsu – was helping. For some reason, she was staying close to him, did not seem to like letting him out of her sight. She had given her oath of obedience to him personally, perhaps it was something to do with that.

Cohradin drifted soundlessly out of the trees. He squatted down, toying with one of his spears, and made his report;

"There are no enemies nearby, Nightwatcher. No signs of people. I do not think that these are the wetlands, there are strange birds and beasts here, the like of which I do not recognise."

N'aethan nodded, continuing to scrape at the dark earth beneath the towering tree. He could have told Cohradin that, the Portal Stone had carried them a long way.

Mitsu flung a load of earth out of the pit, spattering Cohradin. He glowered at her, and was ignored. "Can the Armies of Night follow us here?" she asked, in her drawling accents.

N'aethan shook his head. "I do not think so. We are safe from them."

Cohradin snorted. "Safe! An algai'd'siswai does not care about being 'safe.' I would return to face the Shadow-twisted, if the Aes Sedai had the strength to use the stone thing again. I think that I am further than ever from Wet Sands, now."

"You will find your way home, Cohradin," N'aethan assured him. "If the Wheel wills it, your feet will take you there one day." He flung a last load of earth out of the hole and whistled to the Twin Warders to come over. They did so, straining with their burden – the large golden box with silver chasings that held the Horn of T'oph. With N'aethan's help they lowered it into the pit and he began to fling earth on top of it. It was too heavy to bring with them when they explored this place, it would have to wait here in the meantime.

Soon, the box was covered and N'aethan carefully spread moss and dead leaves over the newly-turned earth, camouflaging the hiding place. If anyone came this way, they would hopefully be more concerned with the presence of a ship in the middle of a forest. It looked strangely incongruous, stranded amidst the trees.

The Aes Sedai were conferring amongst themselves some way distant, and N'aethan resisted the urge to go a little closer and eavesdrop with his sharp ears. Instead, he kept a wary eye on Lord Thaeus. The young man was standing beneath a tree, gazing up at its branches, a distracted expression on his face. And he could channel. N'aethan frowned. Should he tell Ellythia Sedai about her brother? Surely she did not know… the fellow was dangerous. It was a shame, he quite liked the young Lord Whitecloak, the thought of him wielding the One Power and going insane was troubling. But he was one of them. A Madman.

Motioning for Mitsu to stay where she was, N'aethan paced over to join Lord Thaeus, forcing a friendly smile onto his features. No-one else was within earshot.

"What are you looking at, Lightman?" he asked him.

Lord Thaeus blinked, focused on him. "Shieldman," he acknowledged, then pointed up. "I am looking at the blossoms. They are unfamiliar to me, I don't think I have ever seen this kind of tree before. Where are we?"

N'aethan shrugged. "In the south," was all the answer he could provide. He lowered his voice slightly. "I saw what you did," he said softly.

Lord Thaeus did not reply. His gaze was steady.

"You channeled. You must not do this again, even if your life depends upon it. It is too dangerous, the more you do it, the more you will want to do it. Believe me, I know, I have faced the souvraniene before, I have seen how they struggled with the call of saidin."

Lord Thaeus blinked. "I do not know how you know," he muttered, "but you will not tell anyone else, yes?"

"I will not, unless I must. A man has a right to his secrets."

"My thanks. Souv- what does that word mean?"

"It means 'madman.' " N'aethan did not let the smile slip, he placed a friendly hand on Lord Thaeus' shoulder. "I have no wish to insult you, but that is what you will become if you cannot hold off the madness. And then…" he sighed, "…and then, I will be forced to kill you."

Ellythia Desiama, Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah, raised a delicate eyebrow. "The plan was not to bring the entire vessel upon which we sailed to here, just ourselves, yes?" she demurred.

Renn was looking flustered. "Now I understand the vision that Elmindreda girl had about me," she mumbled, "she said that she saw a black ship in the middle of a forest, said that it meant I would go on a long journey, though not over the waves…"

Shrina sniffed. "Well, she got that right at least, even if she was completely wrong about my Horn! The question is; how long a journey?"

Ellyth nodded. "That is certainly the question. We must try to discover where we are." She glanced around herself. "I do not recognise any of this terrain… that smoking mountain is not Dragonmount, it is too small, and these trees… this is all most unfamiliar."

Renn shrugged. "Would you rather be back at the Blight, waiting to get put into a Trolloc's cook-pot? Instead of blaming me for saving us, you might show a little gratitude!"

Ellyth sighed. Renn was right, of course, wherever they were, it was infinitely preferable to where they had been. She allowed herself a brief moment of smugness, that the vile old hag had failed to ensnare her in the trap she had set… but only briefly. "You are right, Renn, you did well. The Portal Stone proved advantageous indeed. Forgive my misgivings, you have done right by us."

Renn smiled. Shrina sniffed again. Clearly, she did not agree.

Ellyth turned away from her friends, her gaze moving past the wrecked ship stranded in the forest clearing, the odd trees that clustered all around. Her eyes met those of Naythan. He was standing beside her brother, the two of them speaking quietly together. She saw expectancy in his gaze, but trust also, for which she was grateful. The Warders were watching her also, as were the Aiel. Clearly, she and Shrina and Renn would have to decide on a course of action. Indeed, as the Aes Sedai in charge of their small company, they were required to do so by the others. Leadership carried responsibility. So what to do next? They could not stay here, wherever that was…

"Renn, would you please ask Jabal Gaidin to join us?" She could have asked him herself easily enough, but ordering another Aes Sedai's Warder about was just not done. Renn nodded, and beckoned Jabal over. He came, bare feet soundless on the lush grass. Even the grass here seemed unfamiliar; it was too green, the blades of an unusual shape. Jabal seemed to have anticipated her in that he was holding the Sea Folk compass that she had returned to him. He flipped the lid open. The needle indicated that the smoking mountain lay to the south. Ellyth had no desire to go any closer to that, which she supposed left the northerly pointing direction of the needle to explore.

"Do you recognise this land, Jabal?" she asked him. The Sea Folk journeyed to distant places, perhaps he knew where they were?

Jabal shook his head, but his brow was a little furrowed. Clearly, he was worried about something. "It is not one of the isles of the Atha'an Miere, Ellyth Sedai," he muttered.

Ellyth sensed that he was holding something back, but did not press him on the matter. The Sea Folk could be close-mouthed about the places they did and did not visit. "Then we go north," she stated crisply, expecting Shrina to argue. Shrina did not, however, merely went to fetch her sword and saddlebags.

With a decision made, the others gathered their various accoutrements; saddlebags for the Warders, blanket-rolls for the Aiel. Naythan shouldered the large, tubular bag he had brought from his brother's tomb and fell in beside her. Ellyth favoured him with a quick smile, since Shrina wasn't around to see, and he smiled back. He had a very pleasant smile, give or take the sharp teeth.

"Forgiveness, Aes Sedai, but we must walk again, it seems." He knew that she did not like walking any great distance… Ellyth glanced down at her feet. She wore her riding boots, as being preferable to her slippers, but at least they had worn-in now and were more supple than they had been. That was something.

"It would seem so, Gaidin." Ellyth hefted her saddlebags, shaking her head at Naythan's mute offer to carry them also. The others must carry theirs, after all, she would not be seen to shirk her burdens. She wished that they did not weigh quite so much, however. The Seanchan woman joined them. Her sole item of luggage was the sword that had belonged to Master Tolamani, which she seemed to have appropriated as her own. She held it loosely in her hands, ready to draw and strike at a moment's notice. Ellyth was not sure how she felt about having an armed assassin of a hostile power in their midst, but Naythan seemed to trust her. Ellyth inclined her head coolly and received a brief nod in return.

"Marath'damane," Mitsu drawled, in acknowledgement.

"Aes Sedai," Naythan insisted, "you must call her that!"

"Aes Sedai, then, chami. Where are we?"

"You do not recognise this place?" Ellyth enquired.

"It is not Seanchan, Aes Sedai. I do not know where we are."

It was something of a relief to know that the Portal Stone had not brought them to the lands of the Seanchan, at least, since Ellyth had no desire to have a leash put about her neck. But where were they? They would have to find out. The others were ready. Without further ado, they set off. Behind, the ancient stone column waited in the silent clearing, a painted eye on the black ship watching them go.

Mitsu concentrated on putting one soft booted foot in front of the other and ignored the persistent, nagging sensation in the back of her mind as best she could. She had sworn an oath in a moment of weakness, and now must live with the consequences. What would the Empress – may she live forever – make of that oath? One of her elite Bloodknives, who lived only to serve her, agreeing to a truce with marath'damane and oathbreakers and a… a chami! An evil spirit!

Mitsu glanced over her shoulder at the evil spirit, which was walking alongside the pale, brown-haired marath'damane whom it seemed to serve personally. It fought well, the chami, she had seen it kill a number of the bestial creatures – once she would have scoffed at the idea of 'Trollocs' as being from a children's fable – and it did not seem inclined to remove its gauntlets, so presumably, it did have claws, as in the stories. And she had sworn an oath to it, an oath that her honour would not allow her to ignore. Her eyes would be lowered forever if she broke her word and took up arms against these oathbreakers. But her eyes were already lowered, from having sworn the oath in the first place. She had no right to call herself a Bloodknife now.

The chami noticed her looking at it and winked. Mitsu flushed and turned away, nearly bumping into one of the Aielmen, the big one. They were a revelation almost as strange as the chami, Aiel of all things, serving the marath'damane also. There were ancient tales of the great Hawkwing's attempt to conquer the Aiel, to invade their lands. It was said to be the only time he had failed in a military endeavour. Having seen them fight, Mitsu could almost understand why.

Their small party wound its way through thick undergrowth and tall, slender trees, the land slowly rising around them. The one-eyed Aielman led the way, though the female Aiel kept pushing in front of him and going on ahead, whilst the rest of them, marath'damane with their Warders, were strung out behind. Mitsu was somewhere in the middle, clutching the blade of the High Lord Turak, watching the thick foliage to either side warily. They could be ambushed easily amidst all of this vegetation, she considered.

The chami noticed her cautious preoccupation. "Do not fear, Mitsu, if enemies approach I will assuredly hear them coming."

Mitsu scowled. She did not need to be told not to fear, she had conquered that failing long ago. Even when faced with the Armies of Night, she had not felt trepidation, more amazement… the chami had an irritating sense of humour. And probably, very good hearing. It was a demon after all, part beast, a little like the Trollocs she had fought. It had felt good to do so, such vile creatures should be killed, though it was strange to fight on the same side as marath'damane and their servants. But there was an old saying, that one might make peace with the serpent in order to battle against the Shadow. This offered small comfort.

The land rose further and the trees and bushes around them became more sparse as they began to crest a hill. Mitsu relaxed her guard a little, thinking of something she usually tried to avoid dwelling upon. Falme.

Mitsu ran for the gangplank, crowded with fleeing Fists of Heaven, studiously ignoring the terrible vision above her head; the young man with the sword, duelling with Shai'tan. One look at that had been enough. Such things should be impossible, but there it was, the worst of all omens. The Dragon was reborn.

The fight with the oathbreakers in the white cloaks had gone well, the damane doing their part so that few had survived to reach the Seanchan ranks, but that was all that had gone well. The clear call of a horn being sounded, the white mist rising from all around and then… Heroes of Legend, summoned to battle against them.

Mitsu had done her best, but how could even a Bloodknife withstand such foes? The truth was, they could not. She had seen Hijiro go down with a long lance driven through him, wielded by a rider with a white dove on his silver helm, had beheld Bethaan fall to an armoured woman swinging a sword that shone like the sun. Mashi and Danao had both been killed in the fight with the Warder so that left only her out of her group of Bloodknives attached to the Corenne. When the order went out to retreat to the ships, she had obeyed, though it had felt worse than death to do so. But an order was an order.

Mitsu pushed past the Fists of Heaven and took her station on the quarterdeck as the sailors on the great-ship cast off its moorings and they stood out into the harbour, one of dozens of fleeing craft. Even then, they had not been safe… a woman, her golden hair worn in an intricate braid, had ridden her horse out upon the waves and shot silver arrows at them, which hit with unerring accuracy and exploded. The roar of flames had almost drowned out the screams…

Mitsu shook her head, angry with herself for letting her mind drift. Wherever they were now, it was not Falme. But she wondered about that golden box that she had helped the chami to conceal. The last time she had seen it had been in the High Lord Turak's quarters. It was supposed to contain some kind of a horn. Surely it could not be the same one that had summoned those dead Heroes? And one of those Heroes was said to have been the Hawkwing himself, battling against and destroying those who had kept faith with him, who bore his standard. It did not bear thinking about.

They reached the top of the hill, and beheld a sea. No, an ocean, stretching out forever, unbroken waves rolling as far as the horizon, with no land in sight beyond them. Mitsu heard a low groan. It was the Warder with the tattooed hands, one of which held the compass device, the other gripping the ivory hilt of his sword. His knuckles were white. Mitsu regarded him curiously. What was wrong?

"What is it, Jabal?" the blonde marath'damane asked him. The Warder did not answer, simply pushed past the Aiel and began to descend the hill toward the sandy beach below. They followed.

Jabal din Sudim Lionfish reached the beach, his bare feet scuffing through dry sand. Even now, he could not be entirely sure, but he had sailed a journey to the far south once before and there was one way to tell if his worst fears were to be realised. He closed the compass and tucked it away in his waistcoat pocket, no longer needing the device to tell him that there was an ocean spanning the entire northern horizon. He could see it for himself. It should not be there… unless… unless they were somewhere it would be far better not to be. Hoping that he was wrong, he walked down toward the waves that lapped fitfully at the deserted beach. Distantly, he could hear the others following, could sense Renn through the Bond, feel his wife's concern.

"Where is Thaeus?" he heard Ellyth Sedai ask.

"He was right behind me," the Shieldman responded.

"Jabal, wait!" Renn called, "where are you going?"

Jabal ignored her for the time being and knelt in the surf. He scooped up a handful of seawater and lapped at it with his tongue. He washed the liquid around in his mouth, before spitting it out. He shuddered. He had tasted this particular flavour before. There could be no doubt, not anymore. They were in the worst place in the world.

Thaeus had been bringing up the rear of the party, lagging behind a little. He had decided what to do. When the Sea Folk Warder set off down the hill, the others hastening after him, it gave him his opportunity. He turned, and slipped away.

He was a danger to them, his sister and the others. There could be no goodbyes, no attempts to talk him out of his chosen path. He would follow the line of smoking mountains inland, away from this vast sea that stretched out before them. He would find a place where he could summon the fires, where he could die in peace.

Thaeus knew that it was the only honourable course of action.

Ellyth looked about herself, feathery eyebrows drawn down with concern. "Where did he go?" she asked, scanning the hill above for signs of her brother. There were none. He had been just behind them… where was he?

Naythan seemed torn between looking for Thaeus and eyeing Jabal, who still knelt in the surf, shaking his head slowly back and forth. Renn was stooped over him, touching his shoulder gently. "I think something is wrong, Mistress. Very wrong."

The Aiel stood grouped at the top of the beach, regarding the endless waves with distrust. Shrina and the Twins were standing nearby, they had lowered their saddlebags to the sand and were conferring quietly together. The Seanchan woman loitered beside Naythan, exuding an insufferable patience.

Ellyth took a deep breath. "Naythan, would you please go and find my brother?" she asked.

Naythan hesitated. "He is dangerous, Mistress." He gazed at her steadily.

"Dangerous?"

"Yes. Perhaps it is for the best, that he has gone his own way."

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

"Ellyth! Shrina!"

It was Renn, returning with Jabal. He looked shaken.

"Jabal, tell them what you told me." Renn's tone was firm, though she looked rather shaken herself. Ellyth forgot her brother for the time being. Shrina came closer, her brow furrowed.

"What is it, Jabal Gaidin? What is wrong?" Something clearly was.

Jabal took a deep breath. "This place, Aes Sedai, this island…" He lowered his voice, so that Ellyth had to strain to hear his words. "It is the worst place in the world, to which we have come. This… this is the Land of the Madmen."

here ends Book III of He Sleeps Under the Hill

- GB