The Great Hunt

by Jordan, Robert

  “I wish you weren’t here,” he told the Aes Sedai. “As far as I am concerned, you can go back to wherever you’ve been hiding and stay there.”

  “I have not been hiding,” Moiraine said calmly. “I have been doing what I could, here on Toman Head, and in Falme. It was little enough, though I learned much. I failed to rescue two of my sisters before the Seanchan herded them onto the ships with the Leashed Ones, but I did what I could.”

  “What you could. You sent Verin to shepherd me, but I’m no sheep, Moiraine. You said I could go where I wanted, and I mean to go where you are not.”

  “I did not send Verin.” Moiraine frowned. “She did that on her own. You are of interest to a great many people, Rand. Did Fain find you, or you him?”

  The sudden change of topic took him by surprise. “Fain? No. A fine hero I make. I tried to rescue Egwene, and Min did it before me. Fain said he would hurt Emond’s Field if I didn’t face him, and I never laid eyes on him. Did he go with the Seanchan, too?”

  Moiraine shook her head. “I do not know. I wish I did. But it is as well you did not find him, not until you know what he is, at least.”

  “He’s a Darkfriend.”

  “More than that. Worse than that. Padan Fain was the Dark One’s creature to the depths of his soul, but I believe that in Shadar Logoth he fell afoul of Mordeth, who was as vile in fighting the Shadow as ever the Shadow itself was. Mordeth tried to consume Fain’s soul, to have a human body again, but found a soul that had been touched directly by the Dark One, and what resulted. . . . What resulted was neither Padan Fain nor Mordeth, but something far more evil, a blend of the two. Fain—let us call him that—is more dangerous than you can believe. You might not have survived such a meeting, and if you had, you might have been worse than turned to the Shadow.”

  “If he is alive, if he did not go with the Seanchan, I have to—” He cut off as she produced his heron-mark sword from under her cloak. The blade ended abruptly a foot from the hilt, as if it had been melted. Memory came crashing back. “I killed him,” he said softly. “This time I killed him.”

  Moiraine put the ruined sword aside like the useless thing it now was, and wiped her hands together. “The Dark One is not slain so easily. The mere fact that he appeared in the sky above Falme is more than merely troubling. He should not be able to do that, if he is bound as we believe. And if he is not, why has he not destroyed us all?” Min stirred uneasily.

  “In the sky?” Rand said in wonder.

  “Both of you,” Moiraine said. “Your battle took place across the sky, in full view of every soul in Falme. Perhaps in other towns on Toman Head, too, if half what I hear is to be believed.”

  “We—we saw it all,” Min said in a faint voice. She put a hand over one of Rand’s comfortingly.

  Moiraine reached under her cloak again and came out with a rolled parchment, one of the large sheets such as the street artists in Falme used. The chalks were a little smudged when she unfurled it, but the picture was still clear enough. A man whose face was a solid flame fought with a staff against another with a sword among clouds where lightning danced, and behind them rippled the Dragon banner. Rand’s face was easily recognizable.

  “How many have seen that?” he demanded. “Tear it up. Burn it.”

  The Aes Sedai let the parchment roll back up. “It would do no good, Rand. I bought that two days gone, in a village we passed through. There are hundreds of them, perhaps thousands, and the tale is being told everywhere of how the Dragon battled the Dark One in the skies above Falme.”

  Rand looked at Min. She nodded reluctantly, and squeezed his hand. She looked frightened, but she did not flinch away. I wonder if that’s why Egwene left. She was right to leave.

  “The Pattern weaves itself around you even more tightly,” Moiraine said. “You need me now more than ever.”

  “I don’t need you,” he said harshly, “and I don’t want you. I will not have anything to do with this.” He remembered being called Lews Therin; not only by Ba’alzamon, but by Artur Hawkwing. “I won’t. Light, the Dragon is supposed to Break the World again, to tear everything apart. I will not be the Dragon.”

  “You are what you are,” Moiraine said. “Already you stir the world. The Black Ajah has revealed itself for the first time in two thousand years. Arad Doman and Tarabon were on the brink of war, and it will be worse when news of Falme reaches them. Cairhien is in civil war.”

  “I did nothing in Cairhien,” he protested. “You can’t blame that on me.”

  “Doing nothing was always a ploy in the Great Game,” she said with a sigh, “and especially as they play it now. You were the spark, and Cairhien exploded like an Illuminator’s firework. What do you think will happen when word of Falme reaches Arad Doman and Tarabon? There have always been men willing to proclaim for any man who called himself the Dragon, but they have never before had such signs as this. There is more. Here.” She tossed a pouch on his chest.

  He hesitated a moment before opening it. Within lay shards of what seemed to be black-and-white glazed pottery. He had seen their like before. “Another seal on the Dark One’s prison,” he mumbled. Min gasped; her grip on his hand sought comfort, now, rather than offering it.

  “Two,” Moiraine said. “Three of the seven are broken now. The one I had, and two I found in the High Lord’s dwelling in Falme. When all seven are broken, perhaps even before, the patch men put over the hole they drilled into the prison the Creator made will be torn asunder, and the Dark One will once more be able to put his hand through that hole and touch the world. And the only hope of the world is that the Dragon Reborn will be there to face him.”

  Min tried to stop Rand from throwing back the blankets, but he pushed her gently aside. “I need to walk.” She helped him up, but with a great many sighs and grumbles about him making his wound worse. He discovered that his chest was wrapped round with bandages. Min draped one of the blankets about his shoulders like a cloak.

  For a moment he stood staring down at the heron-mark sword, what was left of it, lying on the ground. Tam’s sword. My father’s sword. Reluctantly, more reluctantly than he had ever done anything in his life, he let go of the hope that he would discover Tam really was his father. It felt as if he were tearing his heart out. But it did not change the way he felt about Tam, and Emond’s Field was the only home he had ever known. Fain is the important thing. I have one duty left. Stopping him.

  The two women had to support him, one on either arm, down to where the campfires were already burning, not far from a road of hard-packed dirt. Loial was there, reading a book, To Sail Beyond the Sunset, and Perrin, staring into one of the fires. The Shienarans were making preparations for their evening meal. Lan sat under a tree sharpening his belt knife; the Warder gave Rand a careful look, then a nod.

  There was something else, too. The Dragon banner rippled on the wind over the middle of the camp. Somewhere they had found a proper staff to replace Perrin’s sapling.

  Rand demanded, “What is that doing out where anybody who passes by can see it?”

  “It is too late to hide, Rand,” Moiraine said. “It was always too late for you to hide.”

  “You don’t have to put up a sign saying ‘here I am,’ either. I’ll never find Fain if somebody kills me because of that banner.” He turned to Loial and Perrin. “I’m glad you stayed. I would have understood if you hadn’t.”

  “Why would I not stay?” Loial said. “You are even more ta’veren than I believed, true, but you are still my friend. I hope you are still my friend.” His ears twitched uncertainly.

  “I am,” Rand said. “For as long as it’s safe for you to be around me, and even after, too.” The Ogier’s grin nearly split his face in two.

  “I’m staying as well,” Perrin said. There was a note of resignation, or acceptance, in his voice. “The Wheel weaves us tight in the Pattern, Rand. Who would have thought it, back in Emond’s Field?”

  The Shienarans were gathering around. To Rand’s
surprise, they all fell to their knees. Every one of them watched him.

  “We would pledge ourselves to you,” Uno said. The others kneeling with him nodded.

  “Your oaths are to Ingtar, and Lord Agelmar,” Rand protested. “Ingtar died well, Uno. He died so the rest of us could escape with the Horn.” There was no need to tell them or anyone else the rest. He hoped that Ingtar had found the Light again. “Tell Lord Agelmar that when you return to Fal Dara.”

  “It is said,” the one-eyed man said carefully, “that when the Dragon is Reborn, he will break all oaths, shatter all ties. Nothing holds us, now. We would give our oaths to you.” He drew his sword and laid it before him, hilt toward Rand, and the rest of the Shienarans did the same.

  “You battled the Dark One,” Masema said. Masema, who hated him. Masema, who looked at him as if seeing a vision of the Light. “I saw you, Lord Dragon. I saw. I am your man, to the death.” His dark eyes shone with fervor.

  “You must choose, Rand,” Moiraine said. “The world will be broken whether you break it or not. Tarmon Gai’don will come, and that alone will tear the world apart. Will you still try to hide from what you are, and leave the world to face the Last Battle undefended? Choose.”

  They were all watching him, all waiting. Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain. He made his decision.

  CHAPTER 50

  After

  By ship and horse the stories spread, by merchant wagon and man on foot, told and retold, changing yet always alike at the heart, to Arad Doman and Tarabon and beyond, of signs and portents in the sky above Falme. And men proclaimed themselves for the Dragon, and other men struck them down and were struck down in turn.

  Other tales spread, of a column that rode from the sinking sun across Almoth Plain. A hundred Bordermen, it was said. No, a thousand. No, a thousand heroes come back from the grave to answer the call of the Horn of Valere. Ten thousand. They had destroyed a legion of the Children of the Light entire. They had thrown Artur Hawkwing’s returned armies back into the sea. They were Artur Hawkwing’s armies returned. Toward the mountains they rode, toward the dawn.

  Yet one thing every tale had the same. At their head rode a man whose face had been seen in the sky above Falme, and they rode under the banner of the Dragon Reborn.

  And men cried out to the Creator, saying, O Light of the Heavens, Light of the World, let the Promised One be born of the mountain, according to the Prophecies, as he was in Ages past and will be in Ages to come. Let the Prince of the Morning sing to the land that green things will grow and the valleys give forth lambs. Let the arm of the Lord of the Dawn shelter us from the Dark, and the great sword of justice defend us. Let the Dragon ride again on the winds of time.

  —from Charal Drianaan te Calamon,

  The Cycle of the Dragon,

  Author unknown, the Fourth Age

  The End

  of the Second Book of

  The Wheel of Time

  GLOSSARY

  A Note on Dates in This Glossary. Three systems of recording dates have been in general use since the Breaking of the World. The first recorded years After the Breaking (AB). Since the years of the Breaking and immediately after were years of almost total chaos, and since this calendar was adopted a good hundred years after the end of the Breaking, its starting point was arbitrarily assigned. At the end of the Trolloc Wars many records had been lost, so much so that there was argument about the exact year under the old system. A new calendar was therefore established, dating from the end of the Wars and celebrating the supposed freedom of the world from the Trolloc threat. This second calendar recorded each year as Free Year (FY). After the disruption, death, and destruction caused by the War of the Hundred Years, a third calendar came into being. This calendar, of the New Era (NE), is currently in use.

  a’dam (AYE-dam): A device, consisting of a collar and a bracelet linked by a silvery metal leash, that may be used to control, against her will, any woman who can channel. The collar is worn by the damane, the bracelet by the sul’dam. See also damane; sul’dam.

  Aes Sedai (EYEZ seh-DEYE): Wielders of the One Power. Since the Time of Madness, all surviving Aes Sedai are women. Widely distrusted and feared, even hated, they are blamed by many for the Breaking of the World, and are thought to meddle in the affairs of nations. At the same time, few rulers will be without an Aes Sedai advisor, even in lands where the existence of such a connection must be kept secret. See also Ajah; Amyrlin Seat; Time of Madness.

  Agelmar; Lord Agelmar of House Jagad (AGH-el-mar; JAH-gad): Lord of Fal Dara. His sign is three running red foxes.

  Age of Legends: The Age ended by the War of the Shadow and the Breaking of the World. A time when Aes Sedai performed wonders now only dreamed of. See also Wheel of Time; Breaking of the World; War of the Shadow.

  Aiel (eye-EEL): The people of the Aiel Waste. Fierce and hardy. Also called Aielmen. They veil their faces before they kill, giving rise to the saying “acting like a black-veiled Aiel” to describe someone who is being violent. Deadly warriors with weapons or with nothing but their bare hands, they will not touch a sword. Their pipers play them into battle with the music of dances, and Aielmen call battle “the Dance.” See also Aiel warrior societies; Aiel Waste.

  Aiel warrior societies: Aiel warriors are all members of one of the warrior societies, such as the Stone Dogs, the Red Shields, or the Maidens of the Spear. Each society has its own customs, and sometimes specific duties. For example, Red Shields act as police. Stone Dogs often vow not to retreat once battle has been joined, and will die to the last man if necessary to fulfill this vow. The clans of the Aiel frequently fight among themselves, but members of the same society will not fight one another even if their clans are doing so. In this way, there are always lines of contact between the clans even when they are in open warfare. See also Aiel; Aiel Waste; Far Dareis Mai.

  Aiel Waste: The harsh, rugged, and all-but-waterless land east of the Spine of the World. Few outsiders venture there, not only because water is almost impossible to find for one not born there, but because the Aiel consider themselves at war with all other peoples and do not welcome strangers.

  Ajah (AH-jah): Societies among the Aes Sedai to which all Aes Sedai except the Amyrlin Seat belong. They are designated by colors: Blue, Red, White, Green, Brown, Yellow, and Gray. Each follows a specific philosophy of the use of the One Power and the purposes of the Aes Sedai. For example, the Red Ajah bends all its energies to finding men who are attempting to wield the Power and to gentling them. The Brown Ajah, on the other hand, forsakes involvement with the mundane world and dedicates itself to seeking knowledge. There are rumors (hotly denied, and never safely mentioned in front of any Aes Sedai) of a Black Ajah, dedicated to serving the Dark One.

  Alanna Mosvani (ah-LAN-nah mos-VANH-nie): An Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah.

  alantin (ah-LANH-tin): In the Old Tongue, “Brother;” short for tia avende alantin, “Brother to the Trees;” “Treebrother.”

  Alar (AYE-lahr): Eldest of the Elders of Stedding Tsofu.

  Aldieb (ahl-DEEB): In the Old Tongue, “West Wind,” the wind that brings the spring rains.

  al’Meara, Nynaeve (ahl-MEER-ah, NIGH-neev): A woman from Emond’s Field, in the Two Rivers district of Andor (AN-door).

  al’Thor, Rand (ahl-THOR, RAND): A young man from Emond’s Field, once a shepherd.

  al’Vere, Egwene (ahl-VEER, eh-GWAIN): A young woman from Emond’s Field.

  Amalisa, Lady (ah-mah-LEE-sah): Shienaran of House Jagad; Lord Agelmar’s sister.

  Amyrlin Seat (AHM-ehr-lin SEAT): (1) The title of the leader of the Aes Sedai. Elected for life by the Hall of the Tower, the highest council of the Aes Sedai, which consists of three representatives (called Sitters) from each of the seven Ajahs. The Amyrlin Seat has, theoretically at least, almost supreme authority among the Aes Sedai, and ranks socially as the equal of a king or queen. A slightly less formal usage is simply the Amyrlin. (2) The throne upon which the leader of the Aes Se
dai sits.

  Anaiya (ah-NYE-yah): An Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah.

  angreal (anh-gree-AHL): A very rare object that allows anyone capable of channeling the One Power to handle a greater amount of the Power than would be safely possible unaided. Remnants of the Age of Legends, the means of their making is no longer known. Few remain in existence. See also sa’angreal; ter’angreal.

  Arad Doman (AH-rahd do-MAHN): A nation on the Aryth Ocean.

  Arafel (AH-rah-fehl): One of the Borderlands.

  Avendesora (AH-vehn-deh-SO-rah): In the Old Tongue, “the Tree of Life.” Mentioned in many stories and legends.

  Aybara, Perrin (ay-BAHR-ah, PEHR-rihn): A young man from Emond’s Field, formerly a blacksmith’s apprentice.

  Ba’alzamon (bah-AHL-zah-mon): In the Trolloc tongue, “Heart of the Dark.” Believed to be the Trolloc name for the Dark One. See also Dark One; Trollocs.

  Barthanes, Lord, of House Damodred (bahr-THAN-nehs): Cairhienin lord, second only to the king in power. His personal sign is the Charging Boar. The sign of House Damodred is the Crown and Tree.

  Bel Tine (BEHL TINE): Spring festival celebrating the end of winter, the first sprouting of crops, and the birth of the first lambs.

  Betrayer of Hope: See Ishamael.

  Birgitte (ber-GEET-teh): Golden-haired heroine of legend and a hundred gleemen’s tales, she had a silver bow and silver arrows, with which she never missed.

  bittern (BIHT-tehrn): A musical instrument that may have six, nine, or twelve strings, and is held flat on the knees and played by plucking or strumming.

  Blasted Lands: Desolated lands surrounding Shayol Ghul, beyond the Great Blight.

  Blight, the: See Great Blight, the.

  Borderlands, the: The nations bordering the Great Blight. Saldaea, Arafel, Kandor, and Shienar.