Chapter 1: Discovery
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend, then fade to myth, and are long forgot when that Age comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age to come, an Age long past, a wind rose above Windbiter's Finger. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
Born among the waters of the Aryth Ocean, the wind flowed east, tracing the southern coast of Amadicia, where the Children of the Light had recently thrived. Farther east sailed the wind, to Altara, and into the now-razed city of Ebou Dar.
Two men stood amidst the remains of a collapsed house, which had been burned and crushed by some reckless sul'dam. One man, stripped to the waist, relaxed as he let the wind caress his sweating body. Wearily, he signaled to his partner that he needed a rest.
"What's supposed to be in here, anyway?" asked the first man, with a slightly slurred manner of speaking. He had been hauled off guard duty by his commander to dig through filth, and was not in the best of moods. He wearily slumped down and sat on a fallen timber.
"I don't know," replied the other, "but we'd better keep working. There has to be something important in here if the Blood wants us to be working here." He hurriedly looked around to see if any were watching. Finding no one, he turned back to his counterpart. "We should be getting back to work. I would not like to become sei'mosiev." He quickly turned away and returned to rooting through the wreckage.
"I have sei'taer," replied the first man. He rose up slowly and began to help his companion.
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Visions swirled before his eyes. Strange notions came fleeting through his mind, whispering, taunting. He saw himself Fighting his enemies on a field of blood, the grass trampled beneath the steel-shod hooves of the cavalry. He sat astride his horse, watching the legions march forward. _They will hold, _ the thought to himself. _They must hold. _ The ring of steel on steel could be heard even this far back from the line. He turned aside to his advisor, and told him to ready the reserves. He watched grimly as his advancing legions were obliterated before his eyes, almost down to a man. He saw the mass of darkness advancing, and drew his sword. Raising his sword, he cried out in a voice that could be heard at the end of the enemy's line.
"_Carai al Caldazar! Carai al Ellisande! Al Ellisande! _"
Aemon led his faithful troops into the fray to meet the advancing threat, knowing that the Rose of the Sun would not perish. Not this day.
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Mat awoke.
First looking about in horror as to where he was, he quickly came to the realization that he was trapped underneath something, probably the house he had rushed into. His vision blurry, he could not make out any details. Not that it would have helped him. The only light in his vision was coming from a small gap in front of him. He wearily put his head down and tried to push up with all his strength, to no avail. He was pinned under a large beam, unable to move anything except his head.
"Blood and bloody ashes," he muttered. _Trapped like a rat in here. Flaming Seanchan. _
Suddenly, he became aware of scraping noises near him. He listened quietly, and heard two men talking.
"...Hear that?" The voice was slightly slurred.
"What?"
"I thought I heard something." Pause. "Over there."
Mat heard advancing footsteps, and wiggled his fingers to see if he could feel a dagger up his sleeves. He noticed that they were all gone. _Bloody luck couldn't even leave me one._
At that exact moment, a great weight was shifted off his back, and he rolled over to his left, and ended up looking up at two half-naked men, already hoisting him to his feet. Mat, weaker than he had thought, could do l ittle else but allow himself to be supported by the two men.
"Looks like we found what we were looking for," muttered one of the men. He quickly bent over into the rubble and picked up a stout piece of wood to use as a cudgel. "Have to take him to the palace." He quickly brought the cudgel down on Mat's temple.
Everything went black.
Chapter 2:
An Unexpected Guest
Tapping her lips thoughtfully, Graendal spoke to General Itrulrade from behind the Mirror of Mists. "Perhaps, General. Perhaps. But maybe it would be better to feint here," She touched one part of the map, "And try a second strike here?" She pointed again.
"A reasonable gamble," He replied. Itrulade laughed heartily. "Who would have thought that you would have such a mind for war? You wouldn't --" He cut off as a servant who had walked into the room handed him a note. He thanked the man, and broke the seal on the note.
Graendal mulled over in her mind what had happened in the past week. Sammael dead, the al'Thor boy with free rein in Illian, now, and this new menace that threatened her from the west. The Seanchan, or some such, prattling of their _Corenne_. Not that they would be much of a problem, with Itrulade to help. She looked back at the man, who had finished reading his note.
"I apologize, but I must leave at once. We will continue next time." With a smile, he strode through the double doors at the end of the room, muttering something about a "ball and chain".
After she was sure the general was gone, Graendal immediately shed the illusion of the old woman she was maintaining, happy to be free of it and in her true self. She glanced down at the near-transparent gown she was wearing, and glided into her personal rotunda. Immediately, several near-naked attendants came to escort her to her chair. She sat, and channeled a
chalice of wine to her hand, dismissing her attendants with a abstracted flick of her hand.
So much had happened. Taint-maddened men now channeling, the schism in the White Tower widening, as Mesaana had so negligently let on. Nations in turmoil, and the Great Lord closer than ever. She allowed herself a small smile. _Soon_, she thought, _soon he will come, and break this untrained al'Thor. Untrained even with the help that that wretched Asmodean had given him._
Suddenly, a bright vertical slash appeared in front of her. _ I was not expecting visitors!_ Without thinking, she leapt to her feet and embraced _saidar_, weaving Air and Fire into a ball of flame, held at the ready.
A man stepped through, tall, and with a scar running down his cheek to a small, square-cut golden beard. Graendal nearly lost the Source in her shock. She had known this man all her life in the Shadow. Sammael grinned, a rueful smile, and spoke lightly. "Miss me?"
Graendal was too stunned to even speak. Sammael was supposed to be dead. Demandred had said as much. Her carefully plotted plans would have to be re-laid. She released the Source. The sheer ecstasy of it interfered with her logic. She would make sure Demandred regretted having him live. How had he survived?
"Know the battleground well enough, and you can survive any odds." She was confused, and suddenly realized she had spoken aloud in her stunned state. Sammael had a menacing light in his eyes now. "I almost didn't survive that foul city. Now, I mean to correct what should have been taken care of long before today."
Wary of the light in his eye, she rushed to embrace the Source -- and found she could not. A wall of what felt like glass, yet harder than steel, separated her from it. Hurriedly, she swung a fist at Sammael, out of sheer desperation. Sammael dodged carelessly, and she found the air around her turned solid. She quickly found herself floating over to Sammael, so h=
e could look her in the eye.
"I could kill you easily right now." As if to demonstrate this, a ball of rough orange flame appeared in his outstretched hand. He slowly lowered it toward her face. Graendal did not allow herself to flinch from the heat, keeping her eyes on Sammael. "Not yet, though. Lews Therin seems to have an aversion to killing women. Perhaps I should help him? No. not yet." The ball of flame vanished. "If I so much as think that you are trying to interfere with me and my plans, I will kill you. Then all the others, one by one."
Graendal suddenly felt the floor rushing up to meet her. She backed away from Sammael, whimpering. "What has happened to you, Sammael?" The words sounded too much like a whimper to suit her.
Sammael smiled, the deadly light in his eyes once again. "The touch of Mashadar can kill, but only if you are unable to resist. I am a Chosen. I resisted. However, the price of resistance is worse than submission." He turned, and another gateway appeared, but Graendal was too stunned to see to where he stepped.
When he had gone, she checked for Sammael's shield, to find it gone. She channeled another gateway herself, this one leading to the Blasted Lands. _The Great Lord must know._ she thought, afraid for the first time she could remember. _He must know... Sammael has gone _mad._
Chapter 3
The M'Hael
Rand lounged in the throne of Illian, the Crown of Swords on a cushion beside him. The Council of Nine had just left, after a lengthy discussion of the new laws and taxes to be instated. Not so much a discussion than a dictation of what Rand had wanted. They had been stubborn, but less so than the High Lords of Tear had been. He called for one of the Saldeans guarding the doorway to enter. Once inside, he instructed the soldier to tell Davram Bashere that he was in charge of the city until he returned. The man bowed, and left hurriedly.
Rand hopped off the throne of Illian and channeled, opening a gateway to his chambers in Caemlyn. Stepping through, he released the weave and stepped out of his room. Immediately, Enalia and another Maiden Rand did not recognize fell in behind him. he reached the throne room, and entered to perhaps the last scene he had expected.
Taim stood on the dais talking to a man behind him in furious tones. Rand heard the Maidens shift behind him as Taim turned and faced Rand. "My Lord Dragon," he said, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice, "I would like you to meet the newest volunteer to the Asha'man. His name is Logain."
Rand faced the False Dragon he had seen what seemed a lifetime ago. He remembered Logain, proud as a king, being escorted into this very palace to be viewed by Queen Morgase. Logain the False Dragon, who had been captured by the Aes Sedai and... gentled.
"An Asha'man, Logain? You have been gentled. What can you possibly do to help the Asha'man?" said Rand.
Suddenly, Rand felt Logain grasp _saidin_, filling him. Immediately Rand held the Source, and he could feel Taim holding it as well. The Maidens at Rand's back moved, Rand could hear it from within the Void. They were drawing spears out. They must have sensed the change in atmosphere.
Astonishment bubbled across the Void. How could Logain have regained the Source? Gentling was forever. Even Lews Therin had thought so.
As if reading his mind, Logain laughed, a cold sound, and said, "I have been Healed. I was Healed, in fact, by a woman we both know. Her name was Nynaeve. Nynaeve al'Meara. I also escaped those women through the intervention of another woman we have in common, although this woman was also the Amyrlin Seat herself. Egwene al'Vere." He glanced at both of the men."
Shall we all release and talk like civilized men?" Logain had released the Source.
Rand released the Source himself, but held on to the void. Taim cut his connection to _saidin_ as soon as Rand did, but he did not look any happier. "Let's sit," said Rand. After they were all seated, and somewhat relatively at ease, sipping mulled wine, Rand broke the silence.
"Why did you come to me, Logain? Why not just leave with Taim when you arrived? The Black Tower needs more men to keep strong."
Logain responded, "I need no further training. I brought war to Ghealdan, gathered an enormous following, and won every battle but the last. All my battles were decided by my channeling. I can probably best your most experienced Asha'man. I wish to train your men with what I know."
Rand considered. The Asha'man already had a False Dragon as a M'Hael. Two might be inviting disaster. "What do you think, Taim?"
Taim glared at Rand in a near-fury. "I can train the Asha'man well enough, myself. I do not need any help. I doubt this man knows any more than I do."
Logain spoke before Rand opened his mouth. "That may be true. However, if your numbers are what they are rumored to be, you need more than one teacher. Two men can train more Asha'man than one can."
Rand thought about having twice as many Asha'man as he did now. The thought was appealing. He would be able to outnumber the White Tower itself. "I will think upon it. I will give you my decision tomorrow. Taim, return to the Black Tower. Logain, stay here for the night. Enalia will take you to a room." The two men left, Taim glaring at Logain as he Traveled, and Logain ignoring him with the strong back straight and proud. Like a king.