The Wheel of Time

by Robert Jordan

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  “Well, you will listen and remember,” the man said. “I am Bao, the Wyld. I am your savior. I have crawled through the depths of sorrow and have risen up to accept my glory. I have come seeking what was taken from me. Remember that.”

  The captives cowered further, obviously uncertain what to do. Gawyn tugged on Egwene’s sleeve, motioning backward, but she did not move. There was something about that man …

  He looked up suddenly. He focused on the women channelers, then gazed about, peering into the darkness. “Do any of you inacal know the Dragon?” he asked, though he sounded distracted. “Speak up. Tell me.”

  “I did see him,” said one of the captive soldiers. “Several times.”

  “Did you speak with him?” Bao asked, strolling away from the captives.

  “No, great Lord,” the soldier said. “The Aes Sedai, they did speak with him. Not I.”

  “Yes. I worried you would be of no use,” Bao said. “Servants, we are being watched. You have not searched this camp as well as you claimed. I sense a woman nearby who can channel.”

  Egwene felt a spike of alarm. Gawyn pulled on her arm, meaning to go, but if they ran, they’d be captured for certain. Light! She—

  The crowd turned at a sudden noise near one of the fallen tents. Bao raised a hand, and Egwene heard a furious yell in the darkness. Moments later, Leane floated through the crowd of Sharans, tied in Air, her eyes wide. Bao brought her up close to him, holding her wrapped in weaves that Egwene could not see.

  Her heart continued to pound. Leane was alive. How had she remained hidden? Light! What could Egwene do?

  “Ah,” Bao said. “One of these … Aes Sedai. You, you have spoken with the Dragon?”

  Leane didn’t respond. To her credit, she kept her face blank.

  “Impressive,” Bao said, reaching up fingers and touching her chin. He held up another hand, and the collected captives suddenly started to writhe and scream. They burst into flames, yelling in agony. Egwene had to forcibly stop herself from reaching for the True Source as she watched. She was crying by the time it ended, though she did not remember starting.

  The Sharans shuffled.

  “Do not be displeased,” Bao said to them. “I know you went to great trouble to take some alive for me, but they would have made poor inacal. They are not raised to it, and during this war, we do not have time to train them. Killing them now is a mercy compared to what they would have had to endure. Besides, this one, this … Aes Sedai will serve our purpose.”

  Leane’s mask had cracked, and despite the distance, Egwene could see her hatred.

  Bao still had her chin cupped in his hand. “You are a beautiful thing,” he said. “Unfortunately, beauty is meaningless. You are to deliver a message for me, Aes Sedai, to Lews Therin. The one who calls himself the Dragon Reborn. Tell him that I have come to slay him, and in so doing, I will claim this world. I will take what originally should have been mine. Tell him that. Tell him you have seen me, and describe me to him. He will know me.

  “Just as the people here awaited him with prophecy, just as they showered him with glory, the people of my land awaited me. I have fulfilled their prophecies. He is false, and I am true. Tell him I will finally have satisfaction. He is to come to me, so that we may face one another. If he does not, I will slaughter and destroy. I will seize his people. I will enslave his children, I will take his women for my own. One by one, I will break, destroy, or dominate everything he has loved. The only way for him to avoid this is for him to come and face me.

  “Tell him this, little Aes Sedai. Tell him that an old friend awaits. I am Bao, the Wyld. He Who Is Owned Only by the Land. The dragonslayer. He knew me once by a name I have scorned, the name Barid Bel.”

  Barid Bel? Egwene thought, memories from her lessons in the White Tower returning to her. Barid Bel Medar … Demandred.

  * * *

  The storm in the wolf dream was a changeable thing. Perrin spent hours prowling the Borderlands, visiting packs of wolves as he ran down dry riverbeds and across broken hills.

  Gaul had learned quickly. He wouldn’t stand for a moment against Slayer, of course, but at least he had learned to keep his clothing from changing—though his veil did still snap up to cover his face when he was startled.

  The two of them bounded through Kandor, leaving blurs in the air as they moved from hilltop to hilltop. The storm was sometimes strong, sometimes weak. At the moment, Kandor was hauntingly still. The grassy highland landscape was strewn with all kinds of debris. Tents, roofing tiles, the sail of a large ship, even a blacksmith’s anvil, deposited point-first into a muddy hillside.

  The dangerously powerful storm could arise anywhere in the wolf dream and rip apart cities or forests. He’d found Tairen hats blown all the way to Shienar.

  Perrin came to rest on a hilltop, Gaul streaking into place beside him. How long had they been searching for Slayer? A few hours, it seemed on one hand. On the other … how much ground had they crossed? They had returned to their food stores now three times to eat. Did that mean a day had passed?

  “Gaul,” Perrin said. “How long have we been at this?”

  “I cannot say, Perrin Aybara,” Gaul replied. He checked for the sun, though there was none. “A long while. Will we need to stop and sleep?”

  That was a good question. Perrin’s stomach suddenly growled, and he made them a meal of dried meat and a hunk of bread. He gave some to Gaul. Would summoned bread sustain them in the wolf dream, or would it merely vanish once they consumed it?

  The latter. The food vanished even as Perrin ate it. They would need to rely upon their supplies, perhaps getting more from Rand’s Asha’man during the daily opening of that portal. For now, he shifted back to their packs and dug out some dried meat, then rejoined Gaul in the north.

  As they settled down on the hillside to eat again, he found himself dwelling on the dreamspike. He carried it with him, turned to its slumbering position, as Lanfear had taught him. It made no dome now, but he could make one when he wished.

  Lanfear had all but given it to him. What did that mean? Why did she taunt him?

  He ripped at a hunk of dried meat. Was Faile safe? If the Shadow discovered what she was doing … Well, he wished he could at least check on her.

  He took a long drink from his waterskin, then searched outward for the wolves. There were hundreds of them up here, in the Borderlands. Perhaps thousands. He gave those nearby a greeting, sending his scent mixed with his image. The dozen replies that came were not words, but his mind understood them as such.

  Young Bull! This from a wolf named White Eyes. The Last Hunt is here. Will you lead us?

  Many asked this, lately, and Perrin couldn’t figure out how to interpret it. Why do you need me to lead you?

  It will be by your call, White Eyes replied. By your howl.

  I don’t understand what you mean, Perrin sent. Can you not hunt on your own?

  Not this prey, Young Bull.

  Perrin shook his head. A response like others he’d received. White Eyes, he sent. Have you seen Slayer? The killer of wolves? Has he stalked you here?

  Perrin sent it out broadly, and some of the other wolves replied. They knew of Slayer. His image and scent had been passed among many wolves, much as had Perrin’s own. None had seen him recently, but time was an odd thing to wolves; Perrin wasn’t certain how recent their “recently” really was.

  Perrin took a bite of dried meat, and caught himself growling softly. He stifled that. He had come to a peace with the wolf inside of him, but that didn’t mean he intended to let it start tracking mud into the house.

  Young Bull, another wolf sent. Turn Bow, an aged female pack leader. Moonhunter walks the dreams again. She seeks you.

  Thank you, he sent back. I know this. I will avoid her.

  Avoid the moon? Turn Bow sent back. A difficult thing, Young Bull. Difficult.

  She had the right of that.

  I saw Heartseeker just now, sent St
eps, a black-furred youth. She wears a new scent, but it is her.

  Other wolves sent agreement. Heartseeker was in the wolf dream. Some had seen her to the east, but others said that she had been seen to the south.

  But what of Slayer? Where was the man, if not hunting wolves? Perrin caught himself growling again.

  Heartseeker. That must be one of the Forsaken, though he didn’t recognize the images they sent of her. She was ancient, and so were the memories of wolves, but often the things they remembered were fragments of fragments that their ancestors had seen.

  “Any news?” Gaul said.

  “Another one of the Forsaken is here,” Perrin said with a grunt. “Doing something to the east.”

  “Does it involve us?”

  “The Forsaken always involve us,” Perrin said, standing. He reached down, touched Gaul on the shoulder and shifted them in the direction Steps had indicated. The position wasn’t exact, but once Perrin arrived, he found some wolves who had seen Heartseeker on their way to the Borderlands the day before. They sent Perrin eager greetings, asking if he was going to lead them.

  He rebuffed their questions, pinpointing where Heartseeker had been spotted. It was Merrilor.

  Perrin shifted there. A strange mist hung over the landscape here. Tall trees, the ones Rand had grown, reflected here, and their lofty tops poked out of the mist above.

  Tents dotted the landscape, like the tops of mushrooms. Aiel tents were plentiful, and between them cook fires glowed in the mist. This camp had been here long enough to manifest in the wolf dream, though tent flaps changed places and bedrolls vanished, flickering in the insubstantial way of this place.

  Perrin led Gaul between the neat rows of tents and horseless horse pickets. They both froze as they heard a sound. Someone muttering. Perrin used the trick he’d seen Lanfear use, creating a pocket of … something around himself that was invisible, but which stopped sound. It was strange, but he did it by creating a barrier with no air in it. Why would that make the sound stop?

  He and Gaul crept forward to the canvas of a tent. That of the man Rodel Ituralde, one of the great captains, judging by the banner. Inside, a woman in trousers picked through documents on a table. They kept vanishing in her fingers.

  Perrin didn’t recognize her, though she was painfully homely. That certainly wasn’t what he’d have expected from one of the Forsaken; not that large forehead, bulbous nose, uneven eyes or thinning hair. He didn’t recognize her curses, though he grasped the meaning from her tone.

  Gaul looked at him, and Perrin reached for his hammer, but hesitated. Attacking Slayer was one thing, but one of the Forsaken? He was confident of his ability to resist weaves here in the wolf dream. But still …

  The woman cursed again as the paper she was reading vanished. Then she looked up.

  Perrin’s reaction was immediate. He created a paper-thin wall between her and him, her side painted with an exact replica of the landscape behind him, his side transparent. She looked right at him, but didn’t see him, and turned away.

  Beside him, Gaul let out a very soft breath of relief. How did I do that? Perrin thought. It wasn’t something he had practiced; it had merely seemed right.

  Heartseeker—this had to be she—waved her fingers, and the tent split in half above her, the canvas flaps hanging down. She rose through the air, moving toward the black tempest above.

  Perrin whispered to Gaul, “Wait here and watch for danger.”

  Gaul nodded. Perrin cautiously followed Heartseeker, lifting himself into the air with a thought. He tried to form another wall between himself and her, but it was too difficult to keep the right image displayed while moving. Instead, he kept his distance and put a blank brownish-green wall between him and the Forsaken, hoping that if she happened to glance down, she’d pass over the small oddity.

  She began to move more quickly, and Perrin forced himself to keep up. He glanced down, and was rewarded with the stomach-churning sight of Merrilor’s landscape dwindling below. Then it grew dark and vanished into blackness.

  They didn’t pass through the clouds. As the ground faded away, so did the clouds, and they entered someplace black. Pinpricks of light appeared all around Perrin. The woman above stopped and hung in the air for a few moments before streaking away to the right.

  Perrin followed again, coloring himself—his skin, his clothing, everything—black to hide. The woman approached one of the pinpricks of light until it expanded and dominated the sky in front of her.

  Heartseeker reached her hands forward and pressed them against the light. She was muttering to herself. Feeling he needed to hear what she was saying, Perrin dared move closer, though he suspected that the pounding of his heart was so loud it would give him away.

  “… take it from me?” she said. “You think I care? Give me a face of broken stone. What do I care? That’s not me. I will have your place, Moridin. It will be mine. This face will just make them underestimate me. Burn you.”

  Perrin frowned. He couldn’t make much sense of what she was saying.

  “Go ahead and throw your armies at them, you fools,” she continued to herself. “I’ll have the greater victory. An insect can have a thousand legs, but only one head. Destroy the head, and the day is yours. All you’re doing is cutting off the legs, stupid fool. Stupid, arrogant, insufferable fool. I’ll have what is due me, I’ll…”

  She hesitated, then pivoted. Perrin, spooked, immediately sent himself back to the ground. It worked, thankfully—he hadn’t known if it would, up in that place of lights. Gaul jumped, and Perrin took a deep breath. “Let’s—”

  A ball of blazing fire crashed into the ground beside him. Perrin cursed and rolled, cooling himself with a gust of wind, imagining his hammer up into his hand.

  Heartseeker dropped to the ground in a wave of energy, power rippling around her. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Where are you? I—”

  She focused suddenly on Perrin, seeing him completely for the first time, the blackness having faded from his clothing. “You!” she screeched. “You are to blame for this!”

  She raised her hands; her eyes almost seemed to glow with hatred. Perrin could smell the emotion in spite of the blowing wind. She released a white-hot bar of light, but Perrin bent it around himself.

  The woman started. They always did that. Didn’t they realize that nothing was real here except what you thought to be real? Perrin vanished, appearing behind her, raising his hammer. Then he hesitated. A woman?

  She spun about, screaming and ripping the earth beneath him. He jumped up into the sky, and the air around him tried to seize him—but he did what he’d done before, creating a wall of nothingness. There was no air to grab him. Holding his breath, he vanished and appeared back on the ground, summoning banks of earth in front of him to block the balls of fire that hurtled his way.

  “I want you dead!” the woman screamed. “You should be dead. My plans were perfect!”

  Perrin vanished, leaving behind a statue of himself. He appeared beside the tent, where Gaul watched carefully, spear raised. Perrin put a wall between them and the woman, coloring it to hide them, and made a barrier to block the sound.

  “She can’t hear us now,” Perrin said.

  “You are strong here,” Gaul said thoughtfully. “Very strong. Do the Wise Ones know of this?”

  “I’m still a pup compared to them,” Perrin said.

  “Perhaps,” Gaul said. “I have not seen them, and they do not speak of this place to men.” He shook his head. “Much honor, Perrin Aybara. You have much honor.”

  “I should have just struck her down,” Perrin said as Heartseeker destroyed the statue of him, then stepped up to it, looking confused. She turned about, searching frantically.

  “Yes,” Gaul agreed. “A warrior who will not strike a Maiden is a warrior who refuses her honor. Of course, the greater honor for you…”

  Would be to take her captive. Could he do it? Perrin took a breath, then sent himself behind her, imagining v
ines reaching around her to hold her in place. The woman howled curses at him, slicing the vines with unseen blades. She reached her hand toward Perrin, and he shifted to the side.

  His feet crunched on bits of frost on the ground that he hadn’t noticed, and she immediately spun on him and released another weave of balefire. Clever, Perrin thought, barely managing to bend the light away. It struck the hillside behind, drilling a hole straight through it.

  Heartseeker continued the weave, snarling, hideous face distorted. The weave bent back toward Perrin, and he gritted his teeth, keeping it at bay. She was strong. She pushed hard, but finally, she released it, panting. “How … how can you possibly…”

  Perrin filled her mouth with forkroot. It was difficult to do; changing anything directly about a person was always harder. However, this was much easier than trying to transform her into an animal or the like. She raised a hand to her mouth, eyes adopting a look of panic. She began to spit and hack, then desperately opened a gateway beside her.

  Perrin growled, imagining ropes reaching for her, but she destroyed them with a weave of Fire—she must have gotten the forkroot out. She hurled herself through the gateway, and he shifted himself to be right in front of it, preparing to leap through. He froze when he saw her entering the middle of an enormous army of Trollocs and Fades at night. Many faced the gateway, eager.

  Perrin stepped back as Heartseeker raised a hand to her mouth, looking aghast and coughing out more forkroot. The gateway closed.

  “You should have killed her,” Lanfear said.

  Perrin turned to find the woman standing nearby, her arms folded. Her hair had changed from silver to dark brown. In fact, her face had changed, too, becoming slightly more like it had been before, when he’d first seen her nearly two years ago.

  Perrin said nothing, returning his hammer to its straps.

  “This is a weakness, Perrin,” Lanfear said. “I found it charming in Lews Therin at one point, but that doesn’t make it any less a weakness. You need to overcome it.”

  “I will,” he snapped. “What was she doing, up there with the balls of light?”