Chapter One: A Most Unusual Spring
Mat Cauthon had always been lucky. Not the way people said when a fella won a few coins at dice or caught a rabbit on the first try. No, Mat was born with a peculiar luck that made his mother mutter "Light preserve us" and his da keep a careful eye out for accidents that never seemed to happen. Luck that landed him in and out of trouble more times than he could count, with no one really the wiser as to how he managed to scrape by unscathed each time.
And this spring, his luck seemed to be… intensifying.
So, it wasn't much of a surprise to him when he and Rand encountered the stranger woman in Emond's Field, although the way she looked at him—a bit like a cat spotting a cornered mouse—set his nerves jangling. Mat had never been one to overthink things, though, and he let it go in favor of poking Rand about something else entirely.
"Did you see that, Rand?" Mat whispered as they moved down the cobbled street. He threw a quick look over his shoulder, watching the gleam of her dark hair disappear behind the inn's doors. "That woman—the one with Lan, the Warder. She looked right at me, like… well, like she knew me already."
Rand snorted, a little unsettled himself. "You're imagining things, Mat."
"Ha! Just you wait." Mat puffed out his chest with a mock serious expression. "I bet she's here for me. Might've heard about me from all the way in Tar Valon."
Rand rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood for another one of Mat's tales. "Light, Mat. I don't know who you think you are, but I'll tell you this: if she is here for you, it's probably because you've got some trouble waiting to happen, not for anything good."
"Oh, come on, Rand. Just because you don't have my… well, charm," Mat grinned, and Rand groaned, "doesn't mean you have to be jealous."
Before Rand could swat him the inn doors opened again, and out stepped the woman—Moiraine, Mat remembered she'd said—and her gaze landed straight on him.
"Well," she said in a voice as smooth as silk, "aren't you a striking young man?"
Mat froze, words skittering away like chickens at harvest time. Rand looked between them, eyes wide, clearly uncertain if he should laugh or be alarmed. Moiraine's smile, small but pointed, only widened as she took a few steps closer, her gaze never leaving Mat's.
"I hope you'll be at the festival tonight, Matrim Cauthon. It would be a pleasure to see more of you," she said, the words somehow hinting at a deeper meaning that Mat couldn't quite put his finger on. He shot a glance at Rand, hoping for an answer, but his friend looked just as perplexed as he felt.
"Oh, uh, yeah… I mean, yes, I—I plan on it," Mat stammered. He tried to play it off with a grin, but something about Moiraine's expression—intense, knowing, and somehow a little playful—left him rooted to the spot.
Lan, Moiraine's tall, grim companion, grunted beside her looking less amused. "We're not here for games, Moiraine."
"Oh, calm yourself, Lan," she murmured with a glance up at him. Her gaze snapped back to Mat, and she gave him an almost conspiratorial wink. "It was lovely meeting you, Matrim. Don't be a stranger."
As they finally turned and walked back inside, Mat let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Light!" he whispered, staring at Rand, who was staring back with an expression of equal parts shock and horror. "Did she… did she just…?"
"She definitely did," Rand managed, bewildered. "What's gotten into her?"
Mat shook his head, utterly baffled. "Maybe she's mad, Rand. But that'd make two strange things now, wouldn't it?" He couldn't stop grinning. "A beautiful stranger visiting Emond's Field just to meet ol' Mat Cauthon. Maybe this spring will be one for the ages, eh?"
Rand sighed, visibly annoyed. "If we don't end up dead by the end of it."
The following morning, Mat's mind was still racing. He and Rand headed toward the village green where the peddler had finally arrived. Along the way they found Perrin, who had missed the whole exchange with Moiraine and was immediately suspicious of their grinning faces.
"What's got you two so full of mischief?" he asked, casting a wary glance at Mat.
Mat clapped him on the back. "Oh, you missed a sight, Perrin. There's a lady in town. A real, proper lady—and wouldn't you know it, she's taken a liking to me." He didn't quite manage to keep the incredulity out of his voice.
Perrin frowned, confused. "A lady? Why in the Light's name would she be interested in you?"
Rand snorted, his humor finally starting to return. "That's the question of the day. But she seemed quite… attentive, I'd say."
Mat shrugged, affecting nonchalance. "What can I say? Sometimes the Cauthon charm is just too much."
Before they could carry on Egwene appeared, all smiles and graceful strides, her eyes immediately locking on Mat instead of Rand. Now that was unusual. Rand's mouth opened in surprise, then shut tightly as Egwene greeted Mat, ignoring her childhood friend entirely.
"Hello, Mat," she said, a touch of brightness in her tone. "You're looking… well, today."
"Uh… hi?" Mat replied, glancing quickly between Egwene and Rand, whose face had gone through a rapid series of expressions—each one a bit darker than the last.
Egwene reached up and adjusted a strand of hair, still only looking at Mat. "You know, I was thinking about that trick you do with the stones, where you always seem to win."
Rand cleared his throat loudly. "Oh, hello, Egwene."
Egwene nodded, sparing Rand a brief, distracted smile, before returning her gaze to Mat. "I mean if you wanted to show me how it's done, I'd be glad to learn."
Mat's brain whirred, scrambling for a way to avoid the strange situation blossoming right in front of him. "Well, I mean, I'd be glad to, but, ah…" He glanced desperately at Rand. "There's only so much luck to go around, you know?"
Egwene's face lit up with a smile and she moved a little closer, her fingers tapping at her skirt in a familiar gesture that usually meant she was mulling something over. "But I'm sure you could make some extra time for me, couldn't you?"
Mat blinked, feeling himself go hot under the collar. "Uh, I suppose…"
Rand had gone rigid, his hands balled up in frustration. He barely managed to keep his voice steady as he muttered, "Come on, Mat. We should see what the peddler's brought."
"Oh, I don't mind a little company if it's the right kind," Egwene said with a small, almost shy smile, as if Rand had suggested otherwise. She placed a hand lightly on Mat's arm, which only added to his growing discomfort.
Rand looked ready to tear his hair out.
"Well… I, ah—" Mat stammered, trying to squirm away but Egwene held on with surprising firmness.
"Well, I guess I'll… catch you later, Egwene," he managed, extricating himself as quickly as possible, all the while keeping his face locked in what he hoped was an innocent smile. "Rand and I promised we'd help Perrin look at… uh, some… stuff."
"Don't keep me waiting, Mat," Egwene called after him, her tone surprisingly coy.
Rand nearly dragged him away by the collar, and Perrin followed, a big, amused grin on his face. When they were finally out of earshot Mat exhaled, tension melting off him.
"Light, Rand. What's happening?"
Rand shook his head muttering. "I don't know, but I don't like it."
Mat laughed nervously, glancing back at Egwene, who was still watching them from across the green. "Guess the Cauthon charm is going to be more trouble than I thought…"
The sound of Thom Merrilin's voice rose above the hum of the gathered crowd, snapping Mat from his daydream. The gleeman was leaning on his staff, clad in a patched cloak of bright colors and dramatic flourishes, his mustache nearly twitching with pride as he launched into an exaggerated tale. Beside Mat, Rand and Perrin were wide-eyed, transfixed by the man's words, and even Egwene stood nearby, the glint in her eye unmistakable.
"Now, any good gleeman needs assistance from time to time," Thom announced, his gaze flicking over the young crowd as if assessing each one. His eyes landed on Mat, and a sly smile curved his lips. "You, lad. Mat, was it? With hands quick as yours, I'd wager you'd make a fine juggler."
Mat grinned, stepping forward eagerly. "Think so, Master Gleeman?"
Thom nodded and produced three small, brightly colored balls from his pouch. "Catch!" he called, tossing them in Mat's direction. Mat scrambled, barely managing to catch the balls before they hit the ground.
"And as for the rest of you," Thom continued, his attention shifting to Rand and Perrin, "you'll assist as well. And you—" he said to Egwene with a smile that was both warm and mischievous, "perhaps you'll be my storyteller's assistant, hm?"
Egwene practically glowed with delight. "Of course! I'd love to."
Thom's face softened a bit as he watched her, his gaze drifting over the group. "Now, juggling is just the beginning," he said, spinning around to face his new apprentices. "To be a gleeman, you have to master the art of mystery, suspense, and magic. And if you're good enough… maybe the world will remember your name." He punctuated the sentence by tossing two more balls to Mat, who quickly wobbled into a respectable rhythm, tossing the balls from hand to hand with a daring grin.
"Light, Mat," Rand said with a chuckle. "I think you've found your calling."
Mat snickered and tossed a ball at Rand, who fumbled it and shot him a good-natured glare. "And why not? A life of adventures and stories. That's the kind of life worth living, right, Egwene?"
Egwene's eyes sparkled as she turned to him, nodding. "Exactly. Adventures… seeing the world, facing dangers no one else can imagine." She looked at Rand, her expression changing. "There's more to life than the Two Rivers, don't you think, Rand?"
Rand's face went through a few expressions at once, uncertainty tugging his smile into a tight line. "Maybe," he said, scratching his head. "But… it's dangerous out there. I'd rather stay safe than risk—"
Egwene sighed, her attention drifting back to Mat, who gave her a shrug and an easy grin. "Sounds like your kind of life, doesn't it?" he said, glancing at her. "Danger and all."
"Oh, I think so." She laughed, a little more softly. "I don't know how you always manage to talk me into these things, Mat."
"Well, maybe it's just my luck." He winked.
Rand looked between them, his frown deepening. He stepped forward as if to pull her aside, but at that moment, Moiraine reappeared, her regal bearing and serene smile immediately catching Thom's attention. The gleeman's eyes narrowed, and his usually boisterous tone dropped as he muttered, "Aes Sedai," and backed up a few steps, retreating toward the inn.
Mat wasn't sure what the big deal was; after all, hadn't Moiraine smiled at him more than once? It wasn't as if she were made of shadow like the man they'd seen on the road.
But then Moiraine's gaze found his, and that knowing, almost mischievous smile spread across her face again, making the back of his neck prickle.
"Well, Matrim," she said, a lilting tone in her voice, "have you been keeping yourself busy? Helping our gleeman, no doubt." She inclined her head slightly, a spark in her eye that made Mat's heart hammer faster. "You have a charm about you."
Mat swallowed hard, the heat rising to his face as he tried to find his voice. "Uh… well, you know, just… helping where I can. Small-town manners and all."
Moiraine stepped a little closer, her eyes glinting as if he were the only one she saw. "Well, I'd be curious to see what else you can do, Matrim. Perhaps you and I will get to know each other a bit more." Her voice was low, soft, and only he seemed to catch the double meaning that even made his luck feel a bit jittery.
To his side, Egwene's face had turned a shade redder than Rand's hair, and she stepped forward suddenly, her hand reaching out to Mat as if he might be pulled away by a wave. "Mat," she said, her voice sweet and high, but with a hint of edge, "why don't you come with me? I, um, need to talk to you about the juggling."
Mat's eyes darted from Egwene to Moiraine, who raised an eyebrow as though amused by the whole exchange. Light, he thought, how did I get into this mess?
"Oh, uh, sure." He gave Moiraine a quick, slightly apologetic nod and let Egwene pull him along. He glanced at Rand, whose face was a study in frustration and confusion, but what could he say? Moiraine's interest in him had been as much a surprise to him as to anyone else.
As they walked away, Egwene tightened her grip on his hand, glancing back once to make sure Moiraine was out of earshot. Her eyes flashed, and she gave a little huff. "I can't believe her. Just… flirting with you, like it's nothing."
"Yeah… strange," Mat muttered, scratching the back of his head. "Look, Egwene, if you're worried about her, I swear I didn't do anything. It's not my fault."
But Egwene only shook her head, a slight smile forming on her lips. "No, I suppose you can't help being who you are." She glanced down at their hands, her expression softening. "It's not such a bad thing, Mat. Having a bit of daring, wanting to see what's out there. You understand that."
Mat looked down at her hand holding his, a little unsure of what to say. She was right; he did want more out of life, more than farming and watching sheep. Yet he couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that he was crossing a line, one he wasn't sure he wanted to cross.
That evening, under a gathering of stars and quiet conversations from the Green, Mat sat beside Egwene with a small set of stones, showing her the game. He was tossing explanations at her, half his mind on the game, the other half on the strange tension that seemed to cling to them.
"Mat," she said softly, setting down a stone and looking at him, her eyes serious. "Why are you acting like this? As if I'd ask you for help just to play a trick on Rand?"
He shrugged. "I just thought… well, he's my friend. You and him, you've been close for as long as I can remember."
Egwene shook her head, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Close, yes. But that's the problem. Close is all we've been for ages." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "Rand wants what's safe. What's always been here. But you—you're different. You see things as they are, you want something bigger."
The admission caught Mat off guard. He swallowed, feeling the weight of her words. He wanted to say something about Rand, about loyalty and friendship, but before he could form a sentence she leaned in, her lips pressing softly to his.
He froze, mind racing with a mix of shock and guilt. Light, this is Rand's girl. But Egwene's lips were warm, and the sweetness of her kiss blurred out his doubts. Hesitation melted as he found himself leaning into the kiss, his hand slipping to her cheek as they drew closer.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he'd have to answer for this but just then, under the starlit sky, none of that seemed to matter.
Mat swirled Egwene around the dance floor, the lively rhythm of Winternight filling the Green with laughter and music. Lanterns swung gently overhead, casting warm shadows over the village square where nearly everyone from Emond's Field had gathered to celebrate. Mat was so caught up in the festivities that he almost forgot the strange happenings of the past day—Moiraine's piercing gaze, the odd tension with Rand, and the unsettling sense that things were shifting.
Egwene's laughter pulled him back to the moment as he spun her once more, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. "You're a good dancer, Mat," she said, smiling in that way she had, like she was seeing more than he thought he was showing.
"Well, when you're dancing with someone as light on her feet as you," he replied, giving her a roguish grin, "even I can look good."
She rolled her eyes, but he could tell she liked it. As the music slowed he began to pull her close, but before he could fully enjoy the moment he felt a sharp tug on his arm.
"Mat Cauthon, if you're done showing off, I need you for a moment."
Nynaeve had appeared from seemingly nowhere, her grip strong and her expression inscrutable. Mat's heart gave an uneasy thump. He cast a quick look at Egwene, who was already frowning, but she didn't protest as Nynaeve led him away. The Wisdom's usual sternness kept most of the young men at arm's length; Mat had certainly never imagined her volunteering him for a dance.
"Nynaeve, I—uh, well, I wasn't expecting—"
She cut him off with a smirk, her fingers tightening on his hand as she turned him in time with the music. "Don't let your head get too big, Mat. Just thought you could use a partner who can keep up."
He raised an eyebrow, half-convinced she was about to yank his ear but to his surprise her expression softened, and there was a spark of something he'd never seen before in her eyes. She actually… smiled. He'd never noticed how pretty she was, not really, not until now when she was looking at him in a way that made him feel as if he were more than just another sheepherder.
"Well… you're a bit better at dancing than I thought, Nynaeve," he managed, trying to shake the strange feeling that was creeping over him.
"Hmm," she murmured, her voice lower than usual. "And you're a bit more… grown-up than I'd given you credit for."
Mat felt his face heat up, flustered by her unexpected praise. It was unsettling; he'd always had a mild fear of Nynaeve. But the way she was looking at him now, like he was worth something… it made him feel strangely alive. And maybe just a little off-balance. Light, what was happening to him? First Moiraine, then Egwene, and now even Nynaeve?
But before he could untangle his thoughts, he caught sight of Egwene a few steps away, her arms crossed tightly and a glare aimed squarely at Nynaeve. Egwene's mouth was a thin line, and she looked about ready to march over and drag him back herself. Mat tried to give her a reassuring smile but just then a strange noise cut through the music—the deep, guttural cry of something unnatural.
For a moment he thought he must be hearing things, but then a loud crash came from the edge of the village followed by screaming. The music stopped abruptly and people turned, their faces twisted in confusion and fear.
"What in the Light—?" Mat barely had time to speak before something huge and monstrous emerged from the shadows, its twisted, blackened face lit by the glow of the lanterns.
"Trollocs!" someone shouted, and panic rippled through the crowd. The creatures descended upon the village like a storm and in an instant the Winternight celebration became a scramble for survival.
Egwene let out a scream as one of the Trollocs barreled toward her, a massive axe raised, its beady eyes glinting with savage intent. Mat's instincts kicked in and he leapt forward, grabbing her by the arm and pushing her out of the way. The Trolloc's swing missed her by inches but Mat felt the air shift with the force of its blade, far too close for comfort.
"Stay behind me!" he yelled to Egwene as he grabbed a fallen staff from the ground, gripping it tightly in both hands. He wasn't sure he had a chance against a creature like this, but he wasn't about to stand there and watch it rip through his friends.
Another Trolloc lunged toward them and Mat brought the staff down hard on its snout, hearing a satisfying crunch. The creature howled in rage but he followed up with another hit, landing it on its eye and driving it back. He could see Moiraine and Lan on the far side of the Green, the Warder's sword flashing as he cut down Trolloc after Trolloc while Moiraine chanted something, her hands raised, light streaming from her in a fierce glow that scorched the beasts wherever it landed.
"Mat!" Nynaeve's voice shouted over the din, and he turned just in time to see her trapped by a Trolloc's jagged blade, its tusks gleaming as it advanced on her. Without thinking, Mat darted forward jabbing his staff between the creature's legs and yanking hard, causing it to stumble. It let out a furious roar but before it could recover Mat grabbed Nynaeve's hand, pulling her close.
"Come on!" he urged, glancing between her and Egwene. "We need to get out of here!"
The three of them sprinted through the chaos, dodging bodies, both human and Trolloc alike, as they weaved their way toward the edge of the village. Mat kept his grip tight on both women, feeling their terror as they huddled close. His pulse pounded in his ears, adrenaline driving him forward with every step.
They finally reached the woods, plunging into the shadows just beyond the village. They sank down, hidden among the trees, and Mat dared a glance back, watching as flames rose higher over Emond's Field. It seemed the whole village was ablaze, the night sky lit with fire and terror.
Mat drew in a shaky breath, his heart hammering as he turned to Egwene and Nynaeve, both of them breathing heavily, eyes wide with lingering fear.
"That was close," he murmured, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to keep it steady.
Egwene looked at him, her expression unreadable. "You… you saved us, Mat. Both of us."
Mat shrugged, trying to downplay it, though he couldn't deny the fierce relief that flooded him now that they were safe, at least for the moment. "Couldn't very well let the two of you go getting yourselves killed, could I?" he muttered, forcing a weak grin.
Nynaeve laid a hand on his shoulder, her face softened with gratitude and something else that made his heart stutter. "You did well, Mat. More than I ever would have expected."
He laughed, the sound shaky but genuine. "I keep surprising myself tonight."
Egwene leaned closer, her hand finding his in the darkness. "I didn't know you had it in you."
Their faces were all so close in the shadows, huddled together as the sounds of battle and flames roared in the distance. Mat's thoughts spun wildly, trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. But one thing was clear: he wasn't the same Mat who had walked into the village Green that night. And something told him, as he glanced between Egwene's lingering gaze and Nynaeve's quiet admiration, that he wouldn't be going back to being that Mat ever again.
"Light help me."