Author's Note: Rand is listening to Seraphim & Cherubim by Maybeshewill.
Sunday, 998 NE (June 22nd)
The deep crashing metal of the horrid, yet somehow beautiful music still echoed in my mind, causing my heart to race as I lay between Min and Moiraine on the captain's bed, trapped by their warmth and bodies. Something bad was going to happen today, on Sunday, and soon. I just knew it.
It was before dawn when I woke Moiraine and Min up, as I got dressed, throwing on the britches and shirt I wore yesterday. "I had a music dream, Moiraine, but this one was bad, I think. Real bad. The memory it held, I was in a dark room, alone. I felt strange, and spacey, my body tingling and feeling larger than life in the darkness as I listened to unsettling, anxious music. The pounding of metal drums called to war, and a half dozen wailing screamers, a deep-voiced bittern, a full assortment of strange instruments creating vast walls of deep grinding noise. There was beauty in that song, but it was a violent beauty. Something's going to happen today and soon, something dangerous."
"What? What are you on about, sheepherder" Min mumbled tiredly, her face in a pillow. Moiraine was already up in her nightdress, gathering my armor, not even questioning me. I could have kissed her for it. I put my arms up, and she pulled the gambeson over my head.
"A Dream, sister-wife." That forbidden word woke Min right up. Moiraine adjusted the chainmail shirt overtop the cream gambeson, with its sinuous scarlet and gold dragon over my heart.
"I told you not to call me that," Min grumbled, sitting up. Moiraine tightened my cuisse, first, then I slipped into the greaves.
"It got you up, did it not? Now dress. Rand had a probable prophetic dream and believes violence is soon." After the greaves were done, I stepped into the chainmail leggings, first my right leg, then my left.
A high whistling sound came from outside, getting louder by the second and the night sky outside the tiny cabin window got brighter. A chill briefly prickled my skin, and the ship shook as if the Creator had lifted it up and set it back down again, shouts and screams echoing through the night as the boat rocked unsteadily. I put on my faulds and tassets, Moiraine working quickly to help me into it, while Min still sat in bed, hair mussed and a worried look on her face.
"That was saidar, I felt the weave before it landed. If I had to guess, Fire." Moiraine bit out, as worry and fear made themselves known in the bond.
My thoughts raced. "Black Ajah or Forsaken?" Moiraine didn't deign to answer as I belted my sword.
At those words Min roughly threw her clothes on, belting a handful of knives to her side, while I helped Moraine into a stout and sturdy riding dress, doing the back laces while Moiraine dug through the small dresser for something. Lan burst inside, not bothering to knock, already armored and sword at his side. Moiraine felt relief in seeing him, as did I. Lan would know what was going on.
"Trollocs on both banks of the Erinin, and a hastily made tangle of dead trees and broken ships blocks the river. It is a trap, set by someone more clever than a Myrddraal with a fist of Trollocs, presumably the enemy channeler. Fireball came from the east bank, took out a swath of the foredeck."
"Prepare the things we will need, Lan Gaidin, especially my angreal bag. It seems we must take to the west bank, to the Braem Woods. I will alert the captain. Rand," She turned to me, eyes serious, bond worried. The boat shook again, this time in the rear and a thunderclap echoed. Lightning. "We will need you out there, in your so'shan and channeling. Do not worry about hiding your abilities, but keep the so'gaighael secret. If any Forsaken is about today, they will know that you should not have it so soon. The worse comes to worst, we could simply leave these poor sailors behind and take a Door out to the Waygate at Caemlyn, or even your father's farm. You must survive and the Forsaken cannot know the full extent of your abilities. That is what matters most."
Determination filled her voice, and regretful resignation brimmed in the bond, intertwined with worry and fear. I made to speak when another high whistle and a third shaking interrupted me, we all heard a long tearing sound and a thump that rocked the boat a fourth time, knocking Min to her feet. Lan quickly helped her up.
Moiraine pushed me as I stood still, stuck just listening, eyes wide. "Go, Rand! Clear the west bank! We will try to land and support you."
I raced out of the cabin, pushing past Lan, and up the stairs, pulling on the energy beneath my skin to transform into the so'shan, antlers growing from my temples and my teeth sharpening, my hair, streaked with gold, spilling down my back, and my fingers turning to reptilian claws. I could sense the shadowspawn now, with the enhanced senses the Lord Form gave me, like rancid oil on my skin and cold in my bones. I could tell there were hundreds of them, on both banks. I stepped out into utter chaos, a fire dominating the prow of the Seamaid's Kiss and the mast, torn in half and smoking, had crushed several sailors and Shienarans underneath it, their cries and shouts filling the air. Others attempted to free them without much luck, while most Shienarans gathered amidship, arming and armoring themselves. Whoever had attacked had broken the rudder with that lightning bolt, and the ship was stuck turning slowly, the wheel spinning uselessly while the captain called out exhortations to terrified sailors.
I acted with little thinking and reached for saidin, filling myself of its power, the Oneness coming in the chaos, if not easy, then without much difficulty. I wove Air into a simple hand to grasp the mast, and after gently lifting it high enough to free any living soul, and not hurt anyone else, I whipped the broken mast at the west bank, tearing a furrow through the ground and smashing dozens Trollocs, sending them flying. In response, a bolt of lightning speared towards me out of the cloudless night sky, the full moon hanging low in the predawn.
Time slowed to molasses, and a foreign instinct took over me. I moved, planting my feet solidly on the deck and holding out my right hand above my head with my pointer and middle extended like I was going to touch the lightning. I did not know why I was doing this, but something inside me screamed at me to do so. That I must, to survive. The actinic bolt of blue hit my fingers, and seemed to be sucked in, painfully flowing through channels I did not even know my body had. It traveled up my arm and through my shoulder, and it did not hurt exactly when it hit my heart, but I felt an almost painful pressure—as if I had eaten too much and my stomach were ripe to pop—throughout my body. The lightning passed through my heart, suddenly feeling warm and comforting rather than pain, but the pressure felt about to burst and I blindly pointed with my left hand, my fingers managing to point towards the east bank of the River Erinin.
Time resumed as a bolt of polychromatic lightning shot out of my fingers, passing through nearby sailors and soldiers with nary a shock, and as it crossed the river in a flash it spread out like searching fingers amongst the Trollocs, leaving death in its wake. After three long seconds it was over, the ship was silent and staring wide-eyed at me. A quick application of Fire pulled the heat out of the burning ship and into the surrounding water, killing the flames and creating a mist that quickly rose to engulf our ship. One by one, men near me knelt in supplication, or prayed fervently, eyeing me with fear and trepidation.
In that quiet mist, the sound of Trolloc battlecries echoing in the night, a man proclaimed, "Lord Drake is the Dragon Reborn!" I did not know which man spoke, only that he started a rush of additional proclamations from sailor and soldier alike that knelt around me, washing over the boat in a wave of revelation. Nothing would ever be the same again, came the thought, sliding like a pebble across the icy Void. I felt distant from myself, unmoored.
"The Dragon!"
"al'Thor, al'Thor!"
"Lord Dragon!"
"The Dragon Reborn, 'master of the lightnings, rider of the storm'," quoted Masema—presumably from prophecy—eyes fevered, a look of concentration on his face as he watched me. Uno merely stared, his one eye inscrutable. I could not see Mat and Perrin, so they must still be downstairs but even they must be able to hear the shouts. Light, where was Moiraine when I needed her? The Oneness in me quaked when anxiety and fear I had been holding back rushed forward like dog released on a hunt.
I just…. I just conducted lightning through my body, I thought, incredulous. A channeler, maybe Black Ajah or maybe Forsaken just tried to kill me with that lightning and it went right through me with nary a shock! And now everyone knows. The secret is out. Light, what will Moiraine think?
I did not know what to say to the men that looked at me with such fearful and fervor'd eyes, that cried out my name and title, so I moved my attention passed the kneeling men to those I could help, the poor wounded that cried out for assistance or mercy.
"I can Heal," I called out, silencing the proclamations. "I can Heal any wounded."
The first man that I reached had half his arm burnt, a horrid looking wound that made my stomach turn even with the Void.
"I can Heal you, if you accept," I told him, and he nodded jerkily.
"Yes, please, by the Light please Heal me!" the man begged, a thin man, with an overly large forehead, and a small, broken nose. His eyes were teary and his nose running, as I bent over him. One hand on the clear skin above the wound, one on his forehead, and I worked the Healing weave into the injury. It was a mixture of dozen flows of Spirit, Air, and Water, sinking into the man like water on dry sand. The man gasped, and before the eyes of those watching us, his skin seemed to clear up and heal, until nothing remained.
The man stood and hugged me, ecstatic. "Light bless you, m'lord. I don't even care if you're the Dragon, light bless you."
I quickly moved on to the next closest injured, a man with a broken leg. A sailor helped me set the leg right before I Healed it. Apparently there are some dockside horror stories about young Aes Sedai Healing broken limbs wrong with pretty gruesome consequences. Only a Tar Valon sailor would know of such a thing, I thought.
Then another man, with a horrible burn on his face, I knew I had to use all Five Elements to restore his sight, and I did it, somehow. The information seemed to just bubble up in my head. Not the why, but the what, the doing of the act seemed almost like remembering something I long forgot, rather than learning something new. It was a disturbing sensation, but I locked those thoughts down and kept my focus on the next injury, one after another.
Each one I got faster, more sure of what to do, even if I still did not know why what I did worked, and Moiraine appeared by my side suddenly, joining me in Healing.. The last injury I did was a Shienaran soldier whose foot needed to be amputated from being crushed. With how shattered the bone must be, I didn't dare risk trying to Heal it. After confirmation that the soldier wanted an amputation, I sliced a man's leg off three inches above the ankle. The only reason I was not panicking was the Oneness, unsteady, but still holding, and that the blood stopped quickly as I instantly began to Heal him, new skin growing over the wound. I was not used to seeing such things up close, yet. I dreaded being familiar with them, but I knew it would come.
"Lord Dragon," she said, her voice calm but carrying over the murmurs and the distant shouts and cries of Trollocs. "Now would be an opportune time to clear the beach for our landing. Don't you think, dear?"
The crowd watched the exchange eagerly, or with fear. An Aes Sedai and a man who could channel, stuck on the same boat. It was a nightmare for some, for most. Yet the sight of me and her Healing seemed to have calmed several more fearful types, who viewed me now with a wary reverence. Standing there, looking up for the first time in several minutes, it was then that I noticed something.
"I am finished Healing, Moiraine Sedai, but something is wrong with the boat."
The ship was drifting slowly with the mast gone, and rudder, the current carrying us closer to the blockage. That wouldn't do. I would protect everyone. Regardless of whether they thought me second only to the Dark One or the Creator himself, I would protect them. Even if I did not know how to be the Dragon Reborn, I could protect them. I had the power. I couldn't speak to the words yet, couldn't tell them I was the Dragon Reborn, but I could show it once more, in my actions. Show them a Dragon Reborn that protects.
"The ship's going to hit the blockage. I intend to change that," I finished, ignoring the fervor my proclamation caused.
"Rand, we do not—," Moiraine began protesting, but I tuned her out. I did not have time.
I pulled on saidin and forced a massive thread of Water to carve a new current into the river, directing the Seamaid's Kiss onto a new course of beaching itself. The ship rocked, shifting and groaning, as the rudder finished snapping under the pressure of the water jet that pushed the ship towards the shore. Shouts and cries came with each movement, each crude adjustment I made. I ignored them, concentrating on the current I wove. I could not allow it to tear the ship apart. The ship shuddered and rocked, wood moaning but after a long minute, I finished my task, I had set the ship on course for the west bank.
"Now I can go," I said with a grimace. I spoke louder, to the crew and the Shienarans. "The boat will beach itself soon, probably roughly. Prepare yourselves, I will clear the shadowspawn as is my duty as a chinnar'veren, whatever else I am."
More shouts of "Lord Dragon" and "Lord Drake" and "al'Thor" filled the morning air, to my pleasure and my distaste. Some part of me wanted to relish in the calls, but I just couldn't. I thought I would have more time, time to even be just Moiraine's Warder and a chinnar'veren. I thought I had more time before I had to change even more. Apparently not.
Moiraine pulled me down and gave me a kiss on the cheek, causing whistles and cheers from some sailors even as others stared bleakly at the hundreds of shadowspawn that littered the banks of the Erinin, jeering and shouting. "Survive," she whispered softly, before turning to address the crowd. "We face Black Ajah and shadowspawn, seeking our deaths." Gasps and cries of fear filled the air came from the sailors, the Shienarans silent but shocked to hear an Aes Sedai admitting to the Black Ajah aloud. "The Lord Dragon is going to cut a hole for us to disembark, when…"
I stopped paying attention as I swiftly wove a Gentle Feather, tying a web of green Earth and white Spirit ropes around my gambeson, faulds, and cuisse, and took a running leap over the wooden rail. The circle of yellow Air kept me floating while I sped across the water, waiting to unsheathe the Power-wrought sword my father gave me. As I got close enough to drop amongst the Trollocs that littered the western bank of the Erinin, I drew the blade and infused it with a thread of Fire and a tongue of my sacred flame; the blade turned a bright opalescent, shining like the sun in the dark. I released the weave holding me up, as I hastily executed a Boar Rushing Down The Mountain onto a surprised Trolloc that looked like an unholy mix of eagle and man, a beak erupting from a pale human face, and tufts of feathers amongst the matted hair. Most Trollocs I could see lacked helmets, and some even lacked armor. Folly, came the errant thought.
The blade sliced through the Trolloc vertically, leaving a steaming corpse melting like wax, and I was on the move. A Spirit Sword turned swiftly round my waist and sliced the closest shadowspawn with its spectral blade, completely bypassing the armor and protection. I moved onto the next Trolloc in front of me, a particularly rattish beastman who was covered in a patchy coat of hair and had a naked pink tail like a large worm. My left hand held out and flames erupted from it, making short work of the Trolloc. Roast ratman smells horrible, came an inappropriate thought, skittering like a spider.
I squashed it, and focused, turning the Flaming Hand on more Trollocs, the smell of roast flesh and hair and blood filling the air, a horrid stench I ignored. It could not touch me in the Oneness, nothing could touch me in the Oneness. With my right hand I defended against attacks with a blade that cut through weapons and armor as if they were made of paper, leaving sprays of molten metal with each blow and melting shadowspawn where it touched them. I fought like this for a time, killing and killing and killing, steadily cutting my way away from Moiraine and Min and cutting myself some breathing room. Nothing will touch them.
Once I had cleared enough space I channeled, my blade sheathed once more. A torrent of lightning poured from my right hand, killing the closest Trollocs and branching out amongst them, sparking on the black armor some wore, roasting them inside their metal shell. With my left I wove a beam of Fire that I swept back and forth across the ranks of shadowspawn, though the Myrddraal that wasn't trapped beneath the mast twisted and fled my wrath, taking to the forest where I dare not use fire.
I glanced behind me, and saw Trollocs that had retreated to the bank from me, instead of the forest. For those I reached out once more with a beam of fire and roasted them, one row after another falling. For those that survived I used a new weave I had yet to touch, stringing a dozen low flows of Air laced with Fire, and calling lightning down on the Trollocs, causing whatever semblance of cohesion they had to collapse, and some to flee pass me into the sparse beginnings of the Braem Woods, only to die as spikes of earth erupted from the ground, spearing them through.
Soon enough I heard shouting chants and calls of "For the Dragon", and "The Light of Shienar" filled the air as sailors and soldiers both joined battle, having evacuated the ship swiftly, every boat filled with armed men. I watched sailors armed with boarding axes and cutlass and short spears battle beastmen shirtless, alongside Shienaran soldiers in armor. Mat and Perrin were fighting within the mix of men, both unarmored. Too close. A scythe of Air went spinning through the Trollocs closest to them, slicing them through, black, putrid blood spraying everywhere. What survivors were left, rather than face me, met their death to boarding axes and longsword. I pulled deeper on saidin, filling life fill me again, my nostrils burning with the scent of taint-smoke, and reached out to burn every single surviving Trolloc. It was over. Whatever shadowspawn was left alive on this side of the river was in the woods, fleeing.
A few minutes later a half dozen Shienaran soldiers circled me in a guard as I sat on a stump—feeling tired from my use of the One Power—looking over the field of Trolloc corpses, some still burning and smoldering, lighting up the pre-dawn dull orange. I glanced at the river, and saw Lan approaching, the ship beached high and tilted diagonally, Shienarans and sailors swiftly moving like ants to the instruction of Moiraine, who had taken over from the captain.
And then I saw across the river, the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. She was slender and tall, and gorgeous, in a silver-white dress that seemed to glow in the moonlight. She had large dark eyes, her skin was creamy, pale and smooth and her hair fell in waves of raven-black locks. Her chest was bountiful, seeming to spill out of her dress, and her waist startlingly tiny, her curves abundant and obvious. She was the most extraordinary woman I had ever seen. Even a mile or two away, I could see her clearly in the pre-dawn with my so'shan eyes, standing near a Myrddraal, gazing at me. All I could do was stare back. Forsaken or Black Ajah? came the thought with glacial slowness.
She made a casual gesture and lightning once more came out of the cloudless sky. I met it instinctually my right hand, conducting the lightning through to my heart, and somehow gracing the lightning with the Flame Imperishable, before releasing it from my left hand to travel across the river and amongst the shadowspawn once more. Why are my thoughts so slow? I wondered as I melted Trollocs and Myrddraal alike, killing hundreds with the death of the Fades. This seemed to frustrate her, as I could see the pout on her face and the exasperated flounce of her arms shaking her chest.
I do not know if I can do that, kill such a beauty. While she beckoned to me I stood still, considering, my thoughts moving glacially, just staring at her as her smile grew, a knowing smile that spoke of secrets she knew that I did not. =I could see it perfectly, and it was Egwene's smile, a smile I remember seeing in the memories, and one that has graced the life I've lived since I woke up in the ashes of a dead body. That broke me from whatever reverie held me. It did not belong on this monster's face. Black Ajah or Forsaken, a woman still, but that would not protect her now, not from the Dragon. My anger felt extraordinarily cold and my thoughts moved in a strange, clinical fashion, crisp and distant like stars on high. I wore a snarl on my face.
Hand and arm movement was almost a requirement for channeling most weaves, it seemed to me, and I had never heard of a crippled Aes Sedai. The range of a weave is based on how accurately the channeler can see into the distance, whether a hundred feet or a hundred miles. Inevitably the average human eye just stopped making out details and channeling stops as well. I could make out every detail if I focused with my so'shan eyes, and I could weave a blade of air to slice those delicate hands in an instant, forever marring her ability to channel. As I reached for the weave again, and formed the hazy blade above her like a sickle moon, Lan shook my shoulder. I blinked and the cold rage that had engulfed me faded away like morning mist, turning into confusion. Wolves howled, triumphant in the early dawn, the sun just over the horizon. Soldiers and sailors sat standing in clumps and sitting amongst the shadowspawn corpses, some eying me avidly, others warily. I could hear my name on their lips, Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn. It was like time had skipped forward a few minutes.
I had been just about to cripple a woman, for simply wearing a similar smile to Egwene. Why? A flash of silver caught my eye as I watched the beauty step through a door, waving a hand as she disappeared, that stolen smile on her lips. I snarled. Black Ajah or Forsaken, she knew how to open Doors and that made her dangerous. She would be back. I had to… Lan's hand squeezed tight, interrupting my thoughts once more. Uno and the other five Shienaran soldiers stood a pace back, some seemed carefully put together, while others stared wide-eyed. Uno was unruffled and stared at me with his single eye, curious.
"Got a bit of anger in you, boy?"
"I'm sorry, I just…" I trailed off, unable to find the words to explain. Why had I gotten so angry so quickly?
"Rand," Lan said, his usual gruff voice tinged with a hint of… something. "Wolves must have killed the last Myrddraal, so it's time to move. You can stare at beautiful Forsaken later."
"You are certain she is Forsaken?" I asked, suddenly worried. I had let a Forsaken go. I could have ended another one. Made the world safer. But she was a woman, I told myself. Could I truly do it? Could I risk not killing her? Part of me said yes.
"Moiraine Sedai said she was stronger than even Nynaeve. That she toyed with us, scales." Uno was not unruffled anymore, and those that heard nearby looked suddenly worried. I ignored their reaction, stuck on my own strange one.
"I was about to cut her hands off, Lan." I said, still astounded by my bloodthirsty reaction, and how easy it felt to... And at the same time, even more terrifying to me, I felt a sense of justification. She was a monster, responsible for myriad crimes, against the world and the Creator.
"Oh, crippling her ability to channel. Vicious and cruel, but undeniably effective." Lan said, nodding his head as he led me to a rapidly approaching Min and Moiraine.
"What did you do to him, Warder?" Min protested. "He feels awful." Lan snorted dismissively and did not answer.
Moiraine frowned at her. "Why do you assume this is Lan's fault, dear sister?"
"I was about to cut her hands off," I blurted out, not wanting the situation to boil into an argument. "Because she wore Egwene's smile. It wasn't hers to wear, and I was going to remove it, permanently." I started to look away, not wanting to see their faces, but I steeled myself and faced them. Min, her confused and worried eyes looked me over for any injury and when she didn't find any, she turned back to Lan, annoyed. Moiraine simply approached me and took my hand in hers, giving me a smile of reassurance.
"What is he on about?" Min asked Lan.
"The female Forsaken." The surrounding soldiers shuddered, as did Min, her face turning pale. Moiraine squeezed my hand tighter "He was going to hurt her, maim her. I interrupted him before he could finish the weave, unfortunately." Lan says succinctly and with honest regret. Light, Lan wants me to have done it! Perhaps I should have.
Gently, Moiraine spoke, and if it were anyone else, it would have been pandering, but I could feel her in the bond, feel her certainty and serenity. "We are at war, Rand. A war for Creation itself. She is a soldier as much as you are, and fighting in war has consequences. I would care for you just as much, regardless of whether you crippled a Forsaken, or a Black Ajah, or even a misguided Red Sister of mine. You did nothing wrong and there is nothing for you to worry about."
"But I was so angry," I said, trying to explain why this moment had unsettled me so much. "But it wasn't bright anger. It was cold, and cunning. And the worst part of it, is some part of me wishes I had done it. It sickens me, and yet, part of me thinks it the right thing to do. To end the reign of terror that horrid woman will surely inflict. Am I a monster?"
A hearty swat on my behind startled me, and I made a yelp that caused a few chuckles. "Did you not listen to a word she said?" Min said, shaking her hand out. "I swear, men don't listen to the words we say and then complain we're 'confusing'. Of course you are no monster. You're grossly over-analyzing this entire situation. She tried to kill you, you trying to kill her back is okay. Got it, woolhead? Or do I need to clean your ears out?"
Min's sincere words, accompanied by some physical reinforcement, broke me from my twisting thoughts. My cheeks were red and my rear throbbed, but I couldn't help smiling. I may be the Dragon Reborn, but Min Farshaw wasn't about to put up with any nonsense. And she was right. Moiraine had already reassured me, I shouldn't need more than the sincere words of a woman who stands by my side. The Forsaken was the enemy, regardless of gender. Getting angry at her for wearing Egwene's smile broke me from whatever had slowed my mind, whatever strange weave the Forsaken had entrapped me with earlier, so it was a good thing, really.
After a long moment with my thoughts, I turned and gave Min a hug. She seemed surprised, but put her arms around me just the same, squeezing me tight. What would I do without these women? Probably flail helplessly. "Thank you, Min. You broke me from my spiraling thoughts. I needed that, but maybe next time? Don't slap my behind in public. A simple punch would do, honestly, and is much less… emasculating." Uno snorted behind me.
Min laughed as she left my arms. "Oh sheepherder, you are too much sometimes. You truly are unlike any man I've known," she said with a soft smile, feeling like a warm blanket in the bond.
Moiraine moved in for a hug of her own, and I squeezed her tight, and bent down, drawing her into a kiss that lasted far too briefly. Moiraine's cheeks were slightly pink when she left my arms, and turned to Min. "Our Dragon is unlike any other man, and he has a habit of getting lost in thought. It is simply something we must tend to, when his thoughts turn dark and sour, dear sister-wife. But now that he is back with us, we can sit and discuss our next move."
Min groaned. "Is this something I need to stay for?"
I looked from my wives to find the Shienaran had formed a circle around our group, facing outwards, while sailors unloaded another horse from the crane alongside a couple Shienaran lancers including Ingtar—who flinched when he met my gaze—and Mat and Perrin who were helping brush down and settle the newly arrived horses. More sailors traveled to and from the beached ship, climbing ladders, and loading packs with supplies. Loial stood awkwardly outside the circle of Shienaran lancers, a question in his gaze, his cheeks tinged red.
I latched onto that like a lifeline, not wanting to deal with planning yet, and waved Loial in, saying, "Come on, let Loial through." The soldiers parted smoothly and Loial stepped gingerly into the circle, taking up most of the remaining space.
"Uh, yes, Lord Dragon, I wished—"
"It's Rand for my friends, not Lord Dragon," I interrupted, and Loial had an inordinately pleased expression.
"Well, I did not wish to presume, Rand, now that you are revealing the secret. You… are… revealing the secret, aren't you?" Loial looked suddenly horrified at the surrounding soldiers and sputtered. "Light have mercy, Rand, if you aren't I surely did not mean to reveal such a thing—"
I had to interrupt once again. "Loial, it is fine, you've spoken nothing wrong. I will be speaking on that subject tonight when we make camp." Moiraine raised an eyebrow. "Before we leave, actually," I amended. She smiled, pleased. "Was that what you wished to ask, my friend?"
Loial stood sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his large head, ears drooping, "I have found I've plumb forgotten, in my needless worry about revealing secrets. But I did wish to thank you. I saw what you did, to save the boat from sure destruction. And how you Healed those men. It seems like every week I spend with you, I face at least one adventure, and this is surely one for the books. Conquering lightning and fighting a fist of Trollocs by yourself, healing the wounded and saving the ship from crashing into a trap. You certainly have turned out to be a hero, truly, and I am lucky to have met you, Rand al'Thor. And it will make ever so good a chapter in my book!"
I blushed at the compliments. "Thank you for your kind words, Loial. They soothe my mood."
"No, thank you!" said the Ogier, smiling broadly.
Moiraine spoke up then. "Is there anything else you wish to speak of, Loial?"
"Oh." Loial's face fell, his eyebrows drooping and his ears lay back as he spoke an apology. "I am so sorry Moiraine Sedai, I should not have approached whatever private conversation you were having. The Elders were right, I need to temper my patience. I could have waited, and now I lost the question whose answer I sought." He shook his shaggy head. "I shall go assist with the supplies, a man of my strength is surely to be a help on the beach, rather than stumble once more over my tongue."
Moiraine reached out to put a tiny hand on his tree-trunk arms. "You did nothing wrong, Loial, but if you wish to assist the sailors, I'm sure they would find your help a Light-blessed gift. Know you are always welcome to join us in conversation, in the future. Do not let this moment poison you."
Loial's drooping eyebrows raised, and his ears stood straight, tufts vibrating. He smiled a smile that near tore his face in half as he spoke. "Thank you, Moiraine Sedai. Your words are a balm to my heart." And then he left, leaving only Lan and Moiraine and Min. Well, and the soldiers that surrounded us, each facing outward in guard, but for Uno, who had taken to standing near me, his hand on his hilt, scanning back and forth.
Once he was gone, Moiraine turned back to me. "What do you believe we should do, Rand? The ship is beached, and we are on the outskirts of scattered forest and plains that will soon become the Braem Woods, a primeval and dense forest. We have twenty-six good horses to carry supplies, sixteen healthy and able Shienaran soldiers, and twenty-three sailors. The enemy has the capability of Traveling, and we know not what reinforcements lie between us and the nearest village of Jurene, which lies across the Erinnin. The Tar Valon Road is twelve to fifteen days west, and another week before we'd reach the border of Andor. We don't have the supplies to make it that far."
I took minutes to consider the situation, as Moiraine stood patiently watching me, curiosity in the bond. This was obviously some kind of test. "Since I can channel,"—I could see soldiers visibly tense—"openly with the sailors and soldiers, my first instinct it to use a Door and go somewhere. Whitebridge would be the best, we could open a Door late at night, and arrive in the docks or the square. From there we hire a new boat, and travel down the Arinelle straight to Illian. The Shadow probably does not know we can use Doors like they obviously can, and it would throw them off our scent. In that scenario we'd probably have to leave the sailors behind, and maybe even the horses, and I doubt the sailors will be able to keep their mouths shut about me, which is dangerous. We could also open a door to Caemlyn, and try traveling the Ways,"—a small gasp came from a shorter soldier—"or even just a long month or two of travel overland to Illian, but I think Whitebridge is the best. Certainly the fastest."
Moiraine replied with infuriating calm, and disappointment, to dismiss my entire plan. "We cannot use a Door. We do not know what minions of the Shadow are watching, nor if they can track where the Door goes. We do not simply want the Forsaken to follow us."
Annoyed, I pondered that. Wouldn't being able to move far closer to Illian trump the worry of them following us? "Not even to use it to gather supplies? Especially if you teach it to Verin Sedai, she could take some Shienarans with her, she's probably been to plenty of cities and could get us supplies from across the Westlands."
"And leave the soldiers and sailors defenseless against a Forsaken or a potential Black Ajah,"—an intake of breath of Uno is the only sign he made the connection—"with our method of Traveling?" she remarked, whip quick.
I frowned at that. "We have to trust her with some things. You expect us to march through the woods until we reach Jurene, and presumably fight whatever shadowspawn lurks between us and there, losing more men. That seems foolish, Moiraine Sedai."
Some soldiers tensed at my less than kind words to the Aes Sedai.
"We must ascertain whatever forces lurk for us—for they lurk for us, do not doubt that—and make sure they do not learn we can Travel in our own, slow way. Nor can they find out that you are already a so'gaighael, the Battlebeast Form, without even two months of being a chinnar'veren, a sheer impossibility that could only be a miracle of the Creator. The more Forsaken that are killed, the greater our chances, but for you to succeed they must think you as weak and ignorant as possible, for as long a possible. We must be patient, Rand. We cannot spoil our advantages."
Anger flared, my frown turning to nearly a sneer. This time I wouldn't just meekly follow her plan. I had major disagreements with it. Getting closer to Illian was what mattered most. I could fight off any Trolloc attack that came for us, easily. "No, Moiraine. No. I won't follow just follow your plan because you say so. I think you are wrong, and to let more soldiers die would spoil any advantage me have. A Forsaken hunts us, and brought hundreds of Trollocs to cover both sides of the river. Who knows how many lurk in the forest to hunt us? We should not simply walk into the trap when we can leave, I will not let these men die for no reason! We take a Door to somewhere, drop off the sailors, and head south for Illian. Light, you could Door them Tar Valon this very evening!" I finished, my voice raised.
All the soldiers tensed. I could see them standing rigid as they listened to our argument.
Moiraine's voice was calm, but her eyes flashed at my tone. "I called you Lord Dragon in front of those men. They are bound to us now, as tightly as they can be. If any rumor of a Dragon, false or not, aided by Aes Sedai—especially with my description!—and the mention of Shienaran soldiers, any rumor at all, makes itself known in Tar Valon, the Tower will hear it and know exactly who we are. The Amyrlin Seat will have to disavow me, I will be stripped of my shawl and sentenced to stilling. They cannot leave our side. Not yet, Rand, not unless they are somewhere no rumor will spread."
I had an epiphany. "Then drop them off in Emond's Field. Tar Valon won't hear a thing. I'll announce myself to the village if I have to, and we can pay Master al'Vere to take them in. We can pick them up when we reach Illian. I will not have us slog through some dark forest, falling one by one to raids of Trollocs and Halfmen, or caught in a conflagration by the Forsaken, unable to flee. I will not, Moiraine," I said fiercely.
"I will have to discuss it with the captain. There are more options, Rand. We could move ahead and leave the sailors to make their way to Jurene—"
"Not happening," I interrupted.
Moiraine gave me a haughty stare and waited for me to speak more, then continued as if I had said nothing. "Or we could use the Door, like you said, to travel to Whitebridge and hire two boats to Illian. That should not be a difficulty this time of year, and that would keep any rumors about you to towns along the Arinelle. Not ideal, but not catastrophic,though the Tower would hear sooner, rather than later. Or we could try leaving them in the Two Rivers, like you said. They will, again, likely spread rumors of you, but with merchants only visiting twice a year those rumors will simply have to fester in the downcountry until after you will be assuredly be king. The problem would be if they caused trouble, but I think a few stern words from Lord Dragon, and an occasional visit will see to that."
I thought on the matter. They'll be safer in Emond's Field, safer than they would be riding in a boat with me. I didn't count the dead, but there was at least five. At least five sailors dead, plus the four Shienaran dead, and it has yet to be two weeks since we left. I couldn't risk more death on my hands, not yet. "Emond's Field. We'll be taking them to Emond's Field," I decided. "It's safer. The sailors were just trying to take us to Illian, they weren't bound up in the Horn or this Dragon Reborn shit, they do not need to be in danger anymore. I don't care if Emond's Field knows I am the Dragon, or a male channeler, and it is better rumors stay bottled up. Less chance of a Darkfriend hearing them."
Moiraine frowned. "Unless there are Darkfriends amongst the crew, or in the Two Rivers. But that is something I cannot fix. Darkfriends lurk everywhere." She took a deep breath, and said in a formal tone, "Very well, I will follow your lead, Lord Dragon. But you will inform the men, let them know they are to be sent to the countryside to wait, instead of going on a grand adventure beside the Dragon Reborn." A trill of amusement fluttered, amongst vexed frustration and a clear note of pride. I did not know why she felt so proud, I hadn't noticed it until after we had started arguing, but it was there.
Hours later, every sailor and soldier wore a pack stuffed with supplies and clothing, and each horse wore a saddlebag or two, with no riders. We had assembled off the beach, about two miles inland in a large meadow brimming with wildflowers. It was late morning as I stood in so'shan before the crowd, my long mane of scarlet and gold blowing in the warm summer breeze. I still wore my armor, covered in soot and Trolloc blood, and I thought I cut an imposing figure when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the river earlier. Moiraine Sedai had ordered silence and everyone stood, waiting for me to speak. Loial was nearby, notebook open and pen in hand, a writing tray set on a barrel of vinegar peppers that gave the air a spicy scent, and Mat fidgeted in the front row next to a solemn Perrin. Beside me stood Min on my left and Moiraine on my right. I took a deep breath, and spoke.
"My name is Rand al'Thor and I am the Dragon Reborn," I said with a note of finality. Even though they knew, had to know since an Aes Sedai confirmed it, gasps and exclamations still filled the air. I raised my hand, and slowly they all died down, though scattered men throughout the crowd would not look at me, while others gazed fervently with anticipation. "I know this to be true, because a spirit of the Creator granted me revelation, about my past, my place and my future. I was born on Dragonmount, as the Prophecies demand, born to an Aiel Maiden of the Spear, and raised by a man of the Two Rivers, which was once ancient Manetheren. I am marked, with heron and dragon. The Dark One seeks my end. Thrice the servants of Ba'alzamon attack us, and thrice we have defeated them. With me at your side, we shall continue to defeat them, until Tarmon Gai'dan and beyond. Do not be afraid. Trust in me, and in each other."
Moiraine took over, quoting the Karatheon Cycle.
" 'And he who shall be born of the Dawn, born of the Maiden, according to Prophecy.
On the slopes of Dragonmount shall he be born, born of a maiden wedded to no man.
He will be of the ancient blood, and raised by the old blood.'
And '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.' "
Her words rung out over the crowd, some nodding and others looking confused, muttering quietly to their neighbor. "These are the words of the Prophecies of the Dragon, words all must heed to recognize the Dragon Reborn. Rand al'Thor, the man standing before you, fulfills these words. This I swear as an Aes Sedai of the White Tower."
She lifted my arm and pushed down my chainmail and quilted gambeson to reveal the heron mark and the dragon tattoo.
"He is marked by a heron, and this tattoo, it is not of a drake, like Rand claimed before. Nor is he a drake shapeshifter, for a dragon marks him. He is the Dragon Reborn and a dragon chinnar'veren, a chosen warrior of the Creator. I have verified his birth with his father, the man who found him squalling as a babe on Dragonmount, on that third day of battle, before King Laman was killed and the Aiel retreated. Rand al'Thor is the Dragon Reborn! Praise him or wail and gnash your teeth, it makes no difference to the truth, that the Last Battle looms and he is our only hope of survival."
I stared at her for a moment, at that final line, before inspiration struck. Grandly, I spoke, my arms wide. "The spirit which called themself the Iridescent Flame, spoke a prophecy for me, a Foretelling for the Dragon Reborn. I will recite it for you now, in full."
I quoted, " 'The Flame of All Colors shall Gift the Dragon Reborn a heart.
Six are the women he shall bind to his heart,
Three lovers, two teachers, one enemy.
And with them bound, he shall shake the world with his might,
For the nations of the world will submit or be brought to heel by his majesty,
And with his power he shall bring forth an Age of Light.' "
"These two women you see before you, Min Farshaw, and Moiraine Damodred, are my wives by prophecy, a lover to care for me, and a teacher to guide me down my path. They are my dragonwives, and with them at my side I will be certain to save the world and usher in a new Age, a better Age, an Age of Light."
This drew shouts and cries, of "Lord Dragon!" and "al'Thor!", from the crowd. I will admit that it felt pretty good. I basked for a long moment, before my stomach curdled at the thought of the dead soldiers and sailors, and the injured ones I Healed. There would be more in the future, far more. Briefly I morbidly wondered how many of these men would survive until the Last Battle, until I shook my head of such thoughts, focusing back on the present.
Moiraine stepped forward, and the cries died down. "Prepare for a long journey, a dangerous journey. Darkfriends and shadowspawn seek us. We seek to Travel with the One Power, first to Emond's Field in the Two Rivers, then Whitebridge in Andor, to seek passage downriver to Illian. Some of you will be left behind, some will die, and some will flee in the night, our burden too heavy for them to carry. I implore you, for your own safety, to keep your mouth locked tight. Darkfriends lay in every town, carrying whispers to their leaders, and any lose lips will mean lives lost and the Last Battle in jeopardy. They will not hesitate to torture and kill you for all you know. Prepare your hearts, for you are the first men to side with the Dragon Reborn, but you will not be the last."