Amadine 3, 998 NE (June 10th)

We rode hard for the first few hours, passing through foothills and forest on our way straight west to Medo—a port on the Mora river—before Ingtar realized what we all had realized already; his pace was going to kill the horses. Reluctantly, he started us dismounting whenever we went down hills to give the horses some rest while we still kept moving.

It was stunning to see men in full armor jogging every time we encountered the downslope, though Perrin and Mat were near exhaustion by the time Moiraine finally arrived. Loial, on the other hand, loved getting off his large, sturdy horse and running freely in the bright spring day. "I once outran a horse in Stedding Shangtai," he told me grinning as he jogged down one of the many hills. I did not disbelieve him, especially when he ran alongside his horse up the hills as well, easily keeping up.

It was long after the sun had started its journey back downward that Moiraine and Lan came riding up to us where we took a quick rest, neither them nor their horses winded. The up and down nature of our ride had worn a toll on Mat and Perrin who were drenched in sweat, and guzzling down water. Moiraine felt worried, had felt worried for about an hour now, but none of it showed on her face.

"Hail and well met, Moiraine Sedai, Lan Dai Shan," Ingtar called out, a little tired. "I was wondering if you would show today."

Moiraine gracefully dismounted from her white mare, Aldieb, while Lan stayed mounted. She wore a dark blue riding dress, with tan divided skirts, and a cream riding cloak, embroidered with vines of grapes, golden hoop earrings, and a belt of silver that emphasized her thin waist. At a quiet murmur, and with a muttered declaration, Lan turned and began galloping to the northeast. I quickly walked up to take her side and keep watch now that Lan had gone. She smiled at me, but addressed Ingtar. "My sisters took more of my time than I had planned, but I am afraid I bear bad news. Half a fist of Trollocs appears to be shadowing us, led by a Myrddraal."

Energy seemed to fill Lord Ingtar, and he stood straighter. "So the enemy thinks to wait until we are asleep to ambush us. That will be their downfall. I know of an excellent place to camp. Men, prepare your horses. We must gallop and canter if we are to make it in time."

Uno spoke up, spitting first to the side, "Pardon my language, Mistress Aes Sedai, but the bloody horses don't have the flaming vigor to go hard the rest of the bloody fool way, Lord Shinowa."

Ingtar frowned and made to speak, but Moiraine superseded his response.

"Lord Shinowa, your horses and men seem tired and road worn already, as your good man Uno has made clear. You made good time today, but I do not know if they can take much more wear this evening. Perhaps if I restored their stamina with the One Power, as much as I am able?"

Ingtar looked upon the Aes Sedai like light shone from her, eyes fevered. "If you are willing, Moiraine Sedai, then yes! I would be a fool to deny your help, and we are lucky to have you with us on our quest. Please."

I joined in a circle with Moiraine, and watched her weave saidar into a fine net of Spirit, Air and Fire that she lay on heads, pulling the poison of fatigue from the minds of the men and horses as the weave sunk in beneath their skin. We had maybe an hour and a half of sunlight when we finished, the twenty-three horses and twenty-three men drained Moiraine despite how much more she could channel when joined with me. Still, she looked happy rather than tired.

As we moved together to mount up, her mare next to my stallion, she whispered quietly. "Have I ever told you how much I love we can join in a circle so easily?" She sighed, in a way I would call dreamy, if it was not coming from an Aes Sedai. Louder, enough that some soldiers nearby turned, she said, "You are truly a gift given to me by the Creator, hand-wrapped with a bow, Rand al'Thor." Then she stood up on her toes, pulling on me so I would bend down and kissed me softly on the lips. Moiraine surprised me, but I joined in the kiss, blushing profusely and my heart beating fast. After I wore a grin no one could wipe off my face, not even Mat. It was stupid and silly, I had done so much more with Egwene, had made love and learned her body in our wonderful nights together, and yet these simple things that Moiraine does still makes me callow boy.

We stopped for the first night in a shallow bowl well defensible, and easily picketed. I stopped to grab my things from the pannier, to change my coat to something more useful and less ostentatious, but something caused me to shout a loud "Moiraine!" into the twilight. I should have expected this from her.

Ingtar came running over, while Moiraine was much more sedate. She calmy got up from where she sat in the grass, cross-legged, and slowly walked over.

"What is it? Peace, did someone get through? I did not hear the guards," said a confused Ingtar.

I held up the two other coat the Aes Sedai had packed for me. One was a bright green with brown piping, embroidered with silver trees that held gold-thread apples, the other was black with golden piping, silver-thread stars dusting the shoulders. The green had herons on the collar, the black had dragons coiling down the arm. Both were insanely ostentatious. "These are unwearable!"

"You can wear them. A coat's a coat. I understand Moiraine Sedai herself saw to your packing. Maybe Aes Sedai do not exactly understand what a man wears in the field." Ingtar grinned. "After we catch these Trollocs, perhaps we'll have a feast. You will be dressed for it, at least, even if the rest of us are not." He strolled back to where the cook fires were already burning, passing by Moiraine, who gave me a smile.

"What is this, Moiraine?" I asked when she finally arrived.

"Ah, you found your coats. Yes, I thought it would be worth it to have something to wear when we reach Illian, and when you need to pass as a nobleman." She paused, then her voice took on a teasing tone, with a hint of warning. "Did you think these were the only coats I packed? You think me a silly twit? Your nice clothes are with the packhorses, the nice coats and silk shirts, but Lan has your clothes for travel. You packed nothing worthwhile, so I had it repacked, and we brought it with us."

Lan had returned by then, reporting that the Trolloc fist had split into small bands, all heading south. She opened Mandarb's saddlebags showed me the less ostentatious and gold-filled clothing that was my 'travel' clothing. All well-made, well-cut tailored clothing for a lord and not clothes for me, just Rand. I sighed. I should have expected this, she does love to dress me up. I kept my coat, figuring it fine for the evening chill.

Shienarans took turns at the cooking when they were in the field, and Masema was stirring the kettle when I returned to the fires. The smell of a stew made from turnips, onions, and dried meat settled over the camp. Ingtar was served first, and then Uno, but everyone else stood in line however they happened to come. Masema slopped a big ladle of stew on my plate; I stepped back quickly to keep from getting the overflow on my scarlet coat and made room for the next man while sucking my burned thumb. Masema stared at me, with a fixed grin that never reached his eyes, until Uno stepped up and cuffed him.

"We didn't bloody bring enough for you to be spilling it on the flaming ground." The one-eyed man looked at me and left. Masema rubbed his ear, but his glare followed me.

Moiraine stood speaking with Lan on the far side of camp, not having grabbed a plate yet, so I went to join Ingtar and Loial, sitting on the ground under a spreading oak. Ingtar had his helmet off, on the ground beside him, but otherwise he was fully armored. Mat and Perrin were already there, eating hungrily. Mat gave a broad sneer at my coat, but Perrin barely looked up, golden eyes shining in the half-light from the fires, before bending back to his plate.

At least they didn't leave this time.

I sat cross-legged on the other side of Ingtar from them. "I wish I knew why Uno keeps looking at me. It's probably this damn coat."

Ingtar paused thoughtfully around a mouthful of stew. Finally he said, "Uno no doubt wonders if you are worthy of a heron-mark blade." Mat snorted loudly, but Ingtar went on unperturbed. "Do not let Uno upset you. He would treat Lord Agelmar like a raw recruit if he could. Well, perhaps not Agelmar, but anyone else. He has a tongue like a file, but he gives good advice. He should; he's been campaigning since before I was born. Listen to his advice, don't mind his tongue, and you will do all right with Uno."

"I thought he was like Masema." I shoveled stew into my mouth. It was too hot, but I gulped it down. We had not eaten since leaving Fal Dara, and I had been too worried to eat this morning when Lan woke me up. My stomach rumbled, reminding me it was past time. I wondered if telling Masema I liked the food would help. "Masema acts like he hates me, and I don't understand it."

"Masema served three years in the Eastern Marches," Ingtar said. "At Ankor Dail, against the Aiel." He stirred his stew with his spoon, frowning. "I ask no questions, mind. If Lan Dai Shan and Moiraine Sedai want to say you are from Andor, from the Two Rivers, then you are. But Masema can't get the look of the Aiel out of his head, and when he sees you..." He shrugged. "I ask no questions."

I dropped my spoon in the plate with a sigh. "Everybody thinks I'm somebody I am not. I am from the Two Rivers, Ingtar. I grew tabac with… with my father, and tended his sheep. That is what I am. A farmer and shepherd from the Two Rivers. I am no Lord."

"He's from the Two Rivers," Mat said scornfully. "I grew up with him, though you'd never know it now. You put this Aiel nonsense in his head on top of what's already there, and the Light knows what we'll have. An Aiel lord, maybe."

"No," Loial said, "he has the look. You remember, Rand, I remarked on it once, though I thought it was just because I didn't know you humans well enough then. Remember? '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.' You remember, Rand? Well, maybe you don't."

I stared at my plate. Wrap a shoufa around your head, and you would be the image of an Aielman. That had been Gawyn, brother to Elayne, the Daughter-Heir of Andor. Is it really that obvious? I knew I probably was Aiel, as much as I'd like to deny the memories of what my father said. Enough people say something and it seems true.

"What was that?" Mat asked. "About spitting in the Dark One's eye."

"That's how long the Aiel say they'll fight," Ingtar said, "and I don't doubt they will. Except for peddlers and gleemen, Aiel divide the world in two. Aiel, and enemies. They changed that for Cairhien five hundred years ago, for some reason no one but an Aiel could understand, but I do not think they will ever do so again."

"I suppose not," Loial sighed. "But they do let the Tuatha'an, the Traveling People, cross the Waste. And they don't see Ogier as enemies, either, though I doubt any of us would want to go out into the Waste. Aiel come to Stedding Shangtai sometimes to trade for sung wood. A hard people, though."

Ingtar nodded. "I wish I had some as hard. Half as hard."

"Is that a joke?" Mat laughed. "If I ran a mile wearing all the iron you're wearing, I would fall down and sleep a week."

"Aiel are hard," Ingtar said. "Man and woman, hard. I've fought them, and I know. They will run fifty miles, and fight a battle at the end of it. They're death walking, with any weapon or none. Except a sword. They will not touch a sword, for some reason. Or ride a horse, not that they need to. If you have a sword, and the Aielman has his bare hands, it is an even fight. If you're good. They herd cattle and goats where you or I would die of thirst before the day was done. They dig their villages into huge rock spires out in the Waste. They've been there since the Breaking, near enough. Artur Hawkwing tried to dig them out and was bloodied, the only major defeats he ever suffered. By day the air in the Aiel Waste shimmers with heat, and by night it freezes. And an Aiel will give you that blue-eyed stare and tell you there is no place on earth he would rather be. He won't be lying, either. If they ever tried to come out, we would be hard-pressed to stop them. The Aiel War lasted three years, and that was only four out of thirteen clans."

"Gray eyes from his mother doesn't make him an Aiel," Mat said.

Ingtar shrugged. "I ask no questions."

I finally spoke up, nervous, sparing a look at Perrin and Mat. "I think I am an Aiel, you know. Enough people have told me the same thing, and I did not ask him, but when I carried my father on Winternight, fevered from a Fade's sword, he spoke to me, of finding me on Dragonmount in the cloak of a Maiden of the Spear. At the time I thought it simply the fever talking, but I'll have to ask him the truth next time I see him."

"As I said before, if Moiraine Sedai says you are an Andoran from the Two Rivers, that is what you are. But your father, he survived a Myrddraal's sword and lived to tell the tale? Few can claim that," Ingtar said, surprised.

"He was a blademaster," I replied proudly. "Moiraine healed him, it was my price for accompanying her out of the Two Rivers."

Ingtar nodded slowly. "I see, I see. So that is why you wear the sword. A good price to pay, a life for a life. Myrddraal wounds never heal right, even when they don't kill, unless an Aes Sedai is there quick enough. I've seen too many good men die from a seemingly simple wound by a Myrddraal's blade. You were lucky, Rand."

"I have been. Sometimes it feels like too much luck and sometimes not enough. But I am lucky." I couldn't help glancing over toward Moiraine. Masema was plating her food while she spoke to him quietly, and he nodded his head in acceptance.

Ingtar followed my eyes and chuckled. "Too much luck, I think. Usually men know better than to try to seduce an Aes Sedai, and the Warder handles the fools. But you seemed to have threaded the needle, one of the few to be accepted in an Aes Sedai's heart. The men spend far too much time wondering how you did it. They gossip so much one would think they were maids."

Mat was eager to correct Ingtar. "I think you got it wrong, Ingtar. Moiraine Sedai was definitely the one that seduced Rand. He folded to her like a wet piece of a paper, didn't even wait a week to let her tie a leash around his neck. No way someone like him seduced her."

I held my tongue as Moiraine finished speaking with Masema, and set about coming over to us, my anger simmering. I needed to speak with Mat, alone and soon. He could not keep his dumb mouth shut. Ingtar spoke for me, after glancing at my face. "It would have to be a man braver than me to deny an Aes Sedai and her desires, professional or personal. Braver or more foolish. Lord Drake does not seem a fool, and he dueled a Myrddraal to the death. Aes Sedai get what they want. It is simply easier to let them have it, then try futilely fighting against the rockslide."

"Bah, lord this, lord that. We did not have lords back in the Two Rivers and we did just fine. Didn't have bloody Aes Sedai either, telling us where to hop and how fast to run. Better that way, more natural. Rand is stubborn, yes, but he used to be stubbornly independent, not stubbornly the blasted pet of some woman. Bloody Aes Sedai changed him." He muttered the last bit as Moiraine stepped into our circle near the tree, face cold and imperious, annoyance and anger softly simmering in the bond, twin to my own.

Her eyes flashed as she spoke, quiet and cold. "Matrim Cauthon, someday soon you'll have to realize you aren't in the Two Rivers anymore, that the world is far larger and more dangerous than you could ever know. Most other lords or ladies hear you talking that way, most Aes Sedai hear those words out of your mouth, and the only noise you'll make is a cry as you are whipped or paddled, maybe even hung for treason by an overzealous noble. Whatever issue you have with Rand, you need to deal with it soon. If you get caught saying such things about Rand in Illian, I may not be able to protect you like I have been. The two of you can go out a hundred paces and you will work it out before you return to sleep tonight. Both of you, Rand," She stared piercingly at both of us and I felt indignant; it wasn't as if I had done anything truly wrong to Mat. I realized though that it was probably the best choice, and she was most likely upset with Mat and not me, but it still felt targeted.

In the silence that followed Mat went to mutter something then thought better of it, glancing back at the Aes Sedai but not moving. Perrin stood up, "I'll come with them, make sure they talk things out, Moiraine Sedai. With me there they'll have to speak."

Moiraine smiled a beautiful smile, radiant even in the deepening twilight, that made Perrin blush, and a sense of relief calmed her annoyance and anger. "Thank you, Perrin. I would appreciate it greatly. Make sure these two young fools don't come to blows. Mat would not survive." And with that blow landed, she ate.

After we finished eating we left, leaving Moiraine and Lord Ingtar in quiet discussion as Mat moved quickly ahead of me and Perrin, leaving us behind, his torch weaving between tree trunks. Night had truly fallen, and nightbirds called out their evening songs, while nearby bushes occasionally rustled with the movement of nocturnal animals. The stars were spangled above us, visible through the gaps in the trees.

"I'm really sorry about Mat. I've tried to explain to him, why I think you're doing what you are doing, but he doesn't listen. I think the dagger…" He trailed off, his golden eyes shining in the torchlight.

When he did not continue, I finished. "It changed him, the same way this journey has changed us. He's harsher, easier to make mad, different. But I'm different, and even you're different, with as solid and reliable you can be."

Perrin nodded. "He knows too. It scares him what the dagger did. How it changed him."

I snorted. "If anyone should be scared, it is me. I'm the bloody Dragon, and the Dark One wants to kill me. I think he just wants someone to be mad at, and I'm the easiest, the one who changed the most. I'm the one whose embraced my fate rather than running, and the Wheel rewarded me as much as its cursed me."

Perrin didn't reply, a thoughtful look on his face.

Mat finally stopped in a clearing with a small patch of sleepingbells and berry bushes with clusters of tiny black fruit, shining in the light of three torches.

He stood, leaning against a tree, in a lazy slouch with none of the killing grace of a Warder, anger radiating. "Let's get this over with." He stood up, walking closer, arms crossed. "Why do you do whatever she says? She doesn't love you. She probably doesn't even like you. The Rand I knew would never have let her truss him up like a feastday pig, ready for slaughter. You bloody ran from Egwene for a year rather than let her tie you down, yet this Aes Sedai comes around and you roll over like a dog? You cannot trust her, or any flaming Aes Sedai Rand, you should know that! Did you forget that too? I asked Loial about those names, the ones from the dreams. They're all false Dragons, Rand. And I know he lies, but not everything he says is a lie. There's some truth to it. She's trussing you up for slaughter, Rand, I just know it." He sounded desperate by the end, something lurking in his eyes.

"And instead of bloody fighting, instead of trying to get away, you let her dress you up like a dandy and flit into your bed like a flaming milk-faced looseskirt, letting her cloud your mind and heart. Are you an idiot who simply believes every word out of her mouth simply because she cannot lie? You let her name you Lord—Rand al'Thor, a shepherd and tabac farmer, Lord—let these good Shienaran folks think you're actually nobility, all because she said so. I tried telling them otherwise, but no, the Aes Sedai said you were a lord and that's all they hear." He flung his hands in the air in frustration. "Mother's milk in a cup, Rand, will you meekly kneel because she asks when she gentles you? Yes, I know you can channel. It is pretty obvious when you think about it. What else would Moiraine be teaching both Egwene and you that leaves you so exhausted after a romantic picnic? It's like I'm the only one who can see what is happening here ends with your death. Maybe I don't want my friend to commit suicide by Aes Sedai, or die of madness." His cheeks were red and perspiration covered his forehead.

I understood now. I was angry, but I understood. He did not know the binding that wove her tight and snug to me, preventing her from harming me. He did not know I could channel without the Taint touching me, when I was a chinnar'veren. That dagger had poisoned him, the evil within it making him harsher and more paranoid, as did the dreams he probably still had, not protected by sleeping next to a woman who could channel. He saw what he saw and drew the obvious conclusion from what information he knew; the tales told in the Two Rivers, and what the gleeman told us, merchant's guard horror stories and the tantalizing clues left by Ba'alzamon.

"She cannot harm me." I said, and the words spilled out. "She searched for me for nineteen years, spent all her adult life preparing to guide me. She cannot harm me, cannot even order someone else to hurt me. She could never gentle me, never even take part. There is a binding that ties us together, it has a Compulsion. It uses the One Power to make sure she can never hurt me, cannot even try. It even… it even makes her care for me, romantically. That's why she acts like… that around me. She is the only Aes Sedai I can ever truly trust because of it."

Perrin and Mat looked at me strangely, before Mat burst out laughing, and Perrin frowned at him.

I took a deep calming breath, before I looked Mat straight in the eyes. "What's so fucking funny?" Maybe I wasn't so calm.

"All these… All these soldiers…" Mat laughs more, wheezing and wiping his eyes of tears. "They think you're this romantic genius, this paragon of manhood who plucked the forbidden fruit of the Aes Sedia! And it just fell into your flaming lap, just like everything else. Oh my, that is funny. I had wondered what she had done to you, what witchery she had entangled your heart in, and it turns out the witchery is all yours!"

"Yes, yes, the witchery is all mine. Moiraine cannot hurt me and the bond forces her to care for me. It's wonderful," I said sarcastically. "Does that assuage your fears that you took out by getting angry with me?"

He frowned and made to speak but Perrin interrupted him. "I think that's a reasonable question Mat."

Mat harrumphed and walked backwards, leaning against the tree once more, giving me a serious look. "I guess you are the one holding the leash, romantically. Doesn't change she trying to make you a False Dragon though, just like those other men. Loial says 'History dooms those who do not know it to repeat it.' I read about the False Dragons, I read histories in Fal Dara that Loial recommended, and two had at least one woman by their side with young faces and knowing eyes. He lies with the truth, and the truth is Aes Sedai assisted some of the False Dragons. I don't want to see my friend hanged or killed for an Aes Sedai plot that he just allows to happen."

"I am no False Dragon, Mat. Since you have not already figured it out like Perrin and Loial, I am the Dragon Reborn." Mat's face soured and he remained skeptical. "Truly. I am. The banner, you remember? I transform into that animal, into a dragon. That's why I listen when she says jump, why I work so hard at the sword, and let everyone call me Lord Rand. I will be a lord one day, for true, hell I'll be a King soon enough, and I need to learn, need to adjust, need to become more than just Rand al'Thor, shepherd and tabac farmer. I need to grow up. She is not leading me down some garden path to my death, but trying to help me win the Last Battle, Mat."

Perrin spoke up, earnest. "He is the Dragon Reborn, Mat. I… I spent some time in the library, reading the Karatheon Cycle with Loial." Perrin glanced at me, then away. "He's fulfilled prophecy already, Mat. 'Twice and twice shall he be marked, twice to live, and twice to die. Once the heron, to set his path, twice the heron, to name him true. Once the Dragon, for remembrance lost, twice the Dragon, for the price he must pay,'" he quoted. "Show Mat your right hand, Rand."

So that is what Moiraine was muttering about the morning I fought Ba'alzamon a second time, I realized. I would have to ask more about this Karatheon Cycle. I needed to know at least some prophecy, even if Moiraine had yet to tell me of any. I showed off the burn scar, in the perfect shape of a heron, then I pulled up my sleeve, showing off the coiling dragon.

"The Pattern has marked me twice already, when I bound Egwene the night after waking up with gaping holes in my memory, and last week when I fought Ba'alzamon in a dream. I am the Dragon. You can fight and whine and gnash your teeth, you can be angry or frustrated or scared, but do not be a wool-headed fool and deny the truth. I decided to not be a wool-headed fool and sought help from Moiraine Sedai. That's why I listen to her."

Mat looked sullen, then just tired. "I'm tired of all this storybook nonsense Rand. The dagger… I… I just want to go home. Watching you somehow get both Moiraine Sedai and Egwene to fall all over themselves for you, the Warder training you, dressing up all noble-like, always secreted away with the Aes Sedai, on your 'picnics', never visiting the barracks or us in our quarters. It's like you forgot where we came from, forgot who you were."

Perrin nodded, staring off into the distance south. "I miss home too, Mat, and some things Rand does made little sense to me, but I trust he knows what he was doing. I think he deserves that trust from you too, not scorn or disdain. And how could he have visited you, when you were the one who rejected him so swiftly after the reveal of his status as a shapechanger?"

"In case you've disregarded what I've said before, I forgot most of home, Mat, and who I am. It's not something I like to think of, the huge gaping holes in my memory where most of Emond's Field and my history lies. I am sorry I am not the Rand you think I should be, but I can only be who I am now, and that Rand is the Dragon Reborn," I said with a note of finality.

Looking this way and that, as if to make sure no one else was listening, Mat spoke quietly, embarrassed. "The dagger, it… it made me forget things too. Light, I forgot my youngest sister's name. I can see her, the wild brown hair and the dirty skirt of her dress after she comes home from playing with the al'Carr boy, but I cannot remember her name. Other things, like the taste of my mother's gooseberry pie, or huge swathes of my childhood, ages seven and eight, are just gone."

"I cannot remember what Egwene's father looks like, and in the memories I watched everyone's voice was like the hissing of snakes. I did not even know you had sisters, or that the al'Carr's were a family. We all have changed Mat. Me, you, even Perrin, he did not use to have golden eyes. Lan told me it was okay to change, that everyone changes. I think its better to accept that change, then long for something you are not and never can be again." I stared firmly at Mat, hoping my words would get through to him.

Perrin squirmed uncomfortably to the side, looking away.

Mat stared into my face, searching for something and seeming to find it. He nodded slowly. "She really cannot hurt you, cannot gentle you? You are certain."

"I may still die from the Dark One, the Creator's Hand shelter me from his wrath, but I plan on living a long and fruitful life with my wives, Mat. I am not walking straight into a noose smiling."

"Wives?" Perrin asked, confused.

I scratch the back of my head, twisting my expression. "Yeah… That whole binding thing with Moiraine Sedai? I did it to Egwene as well, and I have to do it to with four other women. It is a prophecy a spirit of the Creator gave me."

Perrin looked frustrated. "How do you get all the luck with women? Girls have always loved you, you understand them, and now you get six women set on a platter like a feastday cake, including the prettiest girl in the village, and a beautiful Aes Sedai. You really have all the luck, Rand. All I got are these stupid eyes."

"How is it lucky!?" I exclaimed, confused. Did Perrin really think that about me?

"I'm with Rand, I don't know if having six wives can count as luck or a curse, Perrin," Mat said, snickering. "Light, six women. Nightmare, definitely."

"Vindication!" I replied, before laughing at the absurdity of my romantic situation. "Six bloody women. Definitely a lucky curse, or I have cursed luck."

"I still think you're lucky, Rand. And you know they'll love you now, so it is like you cannot even have an unhappy marriage," Perrin said. "I wish I had that," he grumbled in a low voice, frowning.

Suddenly, as I was about to reply, I felt an oily sensation on my skin. I sensed shadowspawn—a dozen Trollocs—north of us, moving swiftly south. "Light, speaking of cursed luck, Trollocs! I feel them north of here." Mat looked around uneasily, and Perrin thumbed the haft of his axe. "Return to camp, I'll hold them off," I continued. This was my chance, I thought, to test my skill against shadowspawn.

Mat booked it immediately, Perrin hesitating until I glared at him. "Do you want to die, Perrin? There's a dozen of them. Let Moiraine Sedai know I'll be back as soon as I'm able." He finally turned and ran after Mat.

I pulled on the energy beneath my skin and transformed in a moment that stretched like taffy, and waited a long minute for the enemy. When a dozen Trollocs came loping through the treeline into the clearing I was in so'shan, standing regal in the Lord Form, a contemptuous look on my face. I had achieved ko'di, finding the Oneness in me and my surroundings, holding the hilt of my sheathed blade. The shadowspawn came to a stumbling pause at the sight of me, some atavistic fear that had lain in wait since the last chinnar'veren died. No Myrddraal led them.

"Come at me, twisted beasts. I will ease your suffering." There was an eagerness in my voice and eyes, and a Trolloc with a wolf's head stepped forward, seemingly just as eager after shaking off the fear and drawing his jagged black blade. "Kark will drink lizard man blood tonight. Kark fights alone."

The other Trollocs backed off, save a Trolloc with a bull's head who stubbornly joined this Kark, a massive axe in hand. "Tor joins," the Trolloc stubbornly bellowed.

Kark considered Tor, then nodded, a cruel smile on its snout. "Tor join, Kark share half."

I stepped forward, seemingly casually but with a measure of the grace of a Warder or other killing men, as they spoke, content to ignore me and argue over 'sharing', until I was close enough to move with one swift motion. Unfolding the Fan swept my Power-wrought blade out and across, slicing through Kark's guard with a peal of metal and a shower of blue sparks, tearing a ragged hole through the Trolloc's armored stomach and spilling hot, wet, coiling intestines onto the forest floor. Kark howled in agony, and Tor roared, bringing its great axe over its head and down on me. I danced away, like a Cat On Hot Sand, and dashed for the other Trollocs who stood nearby, stunned at my lethality. After the third dead Trolloc on my blade, they attempted to swarm me, their hairy sweating bodies bunching up around me, weapons swinging wildly and even hitting each other as I ducked and dodged and leapt back, only taking glancing blows, their blades barely cutting me.

That was when I blew my dragonfire, tinged with the Flame Imperishable, the Light of the Creator. Trollocs melted like wax in my breath, the Shadow that created them failing before the gentle rainbow fire of Light that flowed from my mouth. When the last Trolloc fled, I almost let them go. Instead, I picked up a Trolloc's hand axe and with the Oneness I threw it perfectly into the Trolloc's back, before walking over to its raggedly breathing body and beheaded it.

Over the smoldering prismatic fires that lit the melted corpses I heard the clashing of steel to the south and finally noticed the increasing worry of Moiraine. Shit, I got too distracted by this group of Trollocs I did not even consider they would attack in multiple directions. Using the unburnt rags of a former Trolloc, I cleaned off my blade and headed back to camp as quick as I could.

Around forty Trollocs fought the Shienaran soldiers, some in armor, some half clothed getting ready to sleep, that formed a tightly packed square. Arrows of lightning ringed Moiraine's staff before swiftly seeking the closest Trollocs and electrocuting them to death. Farther on, at the edge of camp Lan and Ingtar fought together against a Myrddraal, blue sparks filling the air every time Lan and the Halfman's sword met. Mat and Perrin lay within the square, Mat's quarterstaff poking out to disrupt a swing, or bonk a Trolloc every few seconds.

I headed for the closest concentration of Trollocs, a dozen who pressed the eastern wall of the soldier's square, and roasted them. Moiraine's worry faded like fog on a sunny day, replaced with a swift frustration tinged with anger.

Twice more I concentrated on the densest groups, each time breaking the Trollocs with the encroaching flames, some dying as they turned their backs on the Shienarans, and the rest of the Trollocs fled. By this time the Myrddraal lay flailing on the ground, its legs and arms stumps, spitting invectives and curses at Lan and Ingtar.

Soldiers sat, catching their breath and resting on the ground, ignoring or even sitting on the corpses of Trollocs. Moiraine tended to injured men, speaking softly. Mat and Perrin stood staring at me, Mat with a considering look, but Perrin looked simply happy I was alive and waved to me. Three men lay on the ground, grievous wounds on their bodies and cloths over their eyes. I stared, wondering why Moiraine wasn't treating them until I realized something and my stomach dropped.

I should have run. I shouldn't have acted the hero. I should have been here to save those three men. I could have killed those dozen Trollocs with saidin in a dozen seconds. I could have been here sooner, but I wanted to fight them, wanted to test my skills. It was my fault they died. They were only here because of me, because I needed to be the one that delivered the Horn of Valere. And I was supposed to be a Warder. I was supposed to be with my Aes Sedai. I had made a mistake, waiting for the shadowspawn.

"Scales, care to light this snake up?"

I started, the interruption chasing away the thoughts that boiled in my mind, that had broken the Oneness so easily. I looked at Lan for a moment—What's with the new nickname—before nodding, and walking with him over to the writhing corpse of the Myrddraal. Its pale skin seemed even more sallow, jets of ink-black blood pumping from the wounds and tainting the surrounding plantlife, turning them sickly and brown. I blew a tongue of flame and the Myrddraal caught on fire as if someone had doused it in oil, the blood and plants burning with it.

I turned to look at the Warder, ignoring Ingtar's wide-eyed staring. "I messed up, Lan Gaidin."

He nodded. "Pride is a failing swordsmen of all skill must guard against. What will you do differently next time?"

"Retreat to Moiraine Sedai and guard her, following her orders," I said immediately.

He nodded once more. "Good. You understand your greatest mistake. You are a Warder now, Rand al'Thor. Your Aes Sedai is above your life, your pride and certainly above testing your skill. I trust you will not make this mistake again."

My stomach churned. I really had messed up. I glanced to Moiraine, and she gave me an inscrutable look, the bond muffled. "Never, Lan Gaidin. Never."

He nodded once more. "Good. Be sure to make up with Moiraine Sedai as soon as possible. She can be insufferable when she sulks, and she appreciates a grand gesture." He smiled to himself for a moment.

"Thank you, Lan. I will speak with her as soon as possible." And as I turned to go, Ingtar called out.

"Did your flame really kill men without touching their skin?" He trembled briefly, glancing at the pile of white ash that used to be a Myrddraal, and a momentary look of fear crossed his face.

I paused, wondering on what to tell Ingtar. He was in command of the Shienaran soldiers, and would soon enough know I am Dragon Reborn. I could lay the foundations for that tale by telling him about the Iridescent Flame. I looked to Lan. "Can I tell him about the Iridescent Flame?"

Lan shrugged, face bland. "That is your choice, Rand. But whatever you tell him, remember that I will tell Moiraine Sedai."

I did not think simply telling him about the Creator's Sacred Fire, and the spirit would be an issue. They were important, as who would not welcome the news of the Creator's intervention in the world of man?

"What is the Iridescent Flame?" Ingtar asked, suddenly wary.

"When I became chinnar'veren, a spirit of the Creator visited me, calling themself the Iridescent Flame. They spoke to me of many things, and gifted me an ember of the Creator's Sacred Fire, that they named the Flame Imperishable. It glows with the Light of the Creator. This is the truth behind my seemingly miraculous flames. And when those flames touch a Darkfriend, they burnt the Shadow in their heart, rather than in the body like shadowspawn."

A myriad of emotions go through Ingtar's face: disbelief, longing, fear, shame, regret. I don't understand it, but it must have something to do with his men that turned out to be Darkfriends, I decided.

"You truly are a miracle of the Creator, Lord Drake." Ingtar finally said, before he bowed, his sword behind him and clasped in both hands. "Thank you for saving my men today, for saving the Horn last night, and for every time you will save us going forward. I can rest easy, knowing your flame will zealously guard the Horn, even from Darkfriends." He gave me a smile that relaxed his stern face, the worry creases smoothing, and the hardness melting away. "Truly Rand, thank you. Without you, without Moiraine Sedai and Lan, those Trollocs would have slaughtered us and put us in the cook pots, and the Horn would in the hands of the Shadow. But I have taken enough of your time, go, and apologize to your Aes Sedai. Lan is right that women appreciate grand gestures, and I'll add swift apologies to that list." He then left us to corral the soldiers to move the corpses of the Trollocs that were not burnt.

Moiraine had finished healing by then, and simply stood near Mat and Perrin, watching me with those hawk eyes of hers. I met them when I walked forward, assuming the Cat Crossing The Courtyard stance as I did. My limbs were limber and loose, back straight but body relaxed. When I was a few feet in front of her, I bowed the way Lan taught me—left hand on hilt, swinging the sword back behind me and grabbing the sheathe with my right hand, and bending over, arms straight.

I adopted a formal tone. "I apologize for my prideful behavior tonight, and the abandonment of my sworn duties to you, Moiraine Sedai, and I swear as Lord Drake to never let such ignoble actions happen again. My punishment is yours to decide," I said, loud enough for those nearby camp to hear, and stop to watch. Soon the whole camp had eyes on us.

The frustration and anger with had been brewing in the bond popped like a bubble, surprise filling it instead, then amusement and a bright, soft fondness. I held my pose for a long minute, while Moiraine, I presumed, stared imperiously at me while her fondness waxed even greater. I could feel the eyes of every soldier staring at my antics, and Mat muttering softly to Perrin. Finally she walked close and lifted my head. Her face and voice was as cold as the bond was warm.

"You may share my heart but you will never fight off alone like that without my strict orders, as an Aes Sedai to her Warder. Do you understand, Rand Gaidin?" Her hand still held my chin as I nodded, not having let go of my bow. Her voice warmed some. "Good. Now release that silly bow. There will be no punishment. You made a simple mistake many young Warders make. Everything was fine in the woods, yes? No issues?"

As I stood, releasing my bow, her hand trailed down my neck and arm to my hand and she laced our fingers together, her hand soft and cool in mine. "No issues. Dealt with them fast, but could have been faster," I said, more than a little guiltily. Ingtar yelled at his men to quit watching us, but I ignored it.

"Well, now you know what to do next time," she said. "But soldiers die, Rand. It is simply a risk of the life they lead."

I frowned at the cold reality of the statement, but I could not deny its truth. Still, I did not have to like it. "I could have kept them alive if I was here instead of in the woods playing at sword fighter and hero like I was ten years old."

She agreed, "Perhaps. Maybe even likely so, but we cannot know that, and it is a futile exercise to to relive 'what ifs'. I do not mean to be callous, but I have lived an eventful life, Rand. Three dead soldiers is a good price to pay for a dead Myrddraal and half a fist of Trolloc corpses." And it was. I could not deny that truth either. There certainly could have been a lot more dead soldiers, without us. Still did not feel good, knowing there could have been no dead if I had arrived with Mat and Perrin.

"Next time I won't make the same mistake," I said, as I watched Masema and another soldier, short and solid, quietly digging graves next to a large oak.

"I'm sure you will not," Moiraine said confidently, squeezing my hand before letting it go.

I slept poorly, dreaming of dead bodies. Sometimes it was Moiraine laying on the ground, blood staining her dress purple and that damn cloth over her eyes. I woke up every time to find her snug as a bug, her head nestled into the crook of my arm, and Lan awake and standing watch over us.

The funeral ceremony was short, held in the predawn with torches and few words said. The bodies lay naked in the holes dug for them, without even a burial shroud.

"Tora Wengui, may you shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the last embrace of the mother welcome you home." Soldiers filled the hole. My fault, I thought as I stared at the holes in the ground.

"Jae Toyame, may you shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the last embrace of the mother welcome you home." Soldiers filled the next hole. Shouldn't have died. The thought drifted in like a leaf on the wind.

"Urun Sisuan, may you shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the last embrace of the mother welcome you home." Soldiers filled the last hole and everyone turned to get ready to move on, muttering quietly amongst themselves. I promise I will do better next time, I swore in my head.

Moiraine swiftly mounted her mare, announcing, "We will turn back east, and seek the Amyrlin Seat's party, joining them on their journey to Medo," much to everyone's surprise, including my own, but there were little complaints, even Ingtar simply accepting Moiraine's words as an order.

I had the privilege and desire to ask why, and she explained as we rode in the dawn's light. "If the Shadow will waste half a fist and a Myrddraal simply trying our defenses, the next attack will be even stronger. Maybe magnitudes stronger. We must seek the shelter of the Amyrlin and my fourteen sisters, to defend the Horn until we reach Medo in the next five days. I am sorry, but our training will have to wait a while longer, until we have safely left Tar Valon."

I worried about spending five more days amongst the Aes Sedai, but I would also see Egwene again, hopefully.