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The figure was hooded in plain black over its richly embroidered clothing, its flaming eyes almost concealed under the thick hood. Ishamael gazed down from the dark precipice to the tall man directing the Trollocs and Darkfriends below. After an Eternity, he mused, the Dragon had come to them, had fulfilled his destiny. The Great Lord did not fully trust his long time adversary however, and so had ... what was he thinking? Thinking of the Great Lord in the third person. Perhaps he was going senile, to refer to himself in the third person. But, ah yes. The Dragon had been placed in a secondary position, in which he would prove himself loyal, or at least tied, to the Shadow. Lews Therin was a tricky one, to be sure. He would not be easily bought, and his mind was most slippery. And so he would wait, and he would observe, and when the time was right, then he would make the Dragon Nae'blis, his agent in the mortal plane. Which of course would mean that it would destroy the other, the one who'd become entirely too unstable to be useful in any case, because ... Ishamael frowned suddenly, because he could not remember the other's name, for some reason. Long moments passed in which the man contemplated the simply logical. Only a fool or a madman would not deduce it automatically. Ishamael was pleased with his knowledge. Leaving his perch, he Gated away to attend to his other affairs.
***
Rand al'Thor tensed as he saw, from the corner of his eye, Ishamael's form disappear into the Gate. The man was walking on thin ice... The scant comprehension of reality that had been his but seven years ago had completely disappeared, and now there was the complete conviction that Ishamael was himself the Dark One.
Rand smiled slightly at the thoughts of madness. The true Dark One had promised Rand immunity to the taint, the disappearance of all madness, should he prove himself true. He wanted that shield against the taint, needed it for all that he must do and be. And of course, the Dark One's request in the test of that necessary loyalty was little less than reasonable, as necessary in such tests, but it would be easy enough to overcome. He was commanded to destroy Emond's Field, the place in which he had grown up. If one place must be sacrificed to save a world, and to save his family, then he would do it. He would do it for them. Yes. But - he would save it, at the same time. He would alert the people, or at least as many as could reasonable be, and then they could re-build the town, and all would be well. Rand opened a Gate and waving his Trollocs and Darkfriends through. Something nagged at the back of his mind, something that he must remember, must know or feel, a brief flash of the strange cloud of darkness, like the taint itself without the sour taste, that had descended upon him with ever increasing intensity over the last month, but Rand quickly dismissed it. He did not have time for vague notions.
***
Egwene, still contemplating the Red Ajah that she had led to the place of her birth, the people she had betrayed, left the town entirely to roam about in the forest on the outskirts. The scents and sounds of the autumn day filled her, and she almost achieved happiness then, lost in the wonders of nature.
Without warning, a crunching of leaves alerted her to the presence of another, and Egwene turned around to face Nynaeve, who's right hand was wrapped around her long black brain, her other hand on her slender waist. She did not look happy.
"Enjoying the night?" Nynaeve asked harshly.
Egwene's faced hardened in a moment, and she replied in a clipped tone, "Yes."
"I couldn't help but noticed when I returned to the Winespring from my evening walk that there were more than several members of the Red Ajah inside. And they were not taking a pleasant holiday away from the stresses of downplaying Siuan Sanche and gentling men who spit in their faces," Nynaeve's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"It had to be done. You would not. You resent the Tower too much, and you're too attached to your loyalty to Emond's Fielders. Rand may have been an Emond's Fielder, but he's also a man that can channel. He's the Dragon Reborn. He cannot be allowed to run about like this; he's a disaster waiting to happen. The Red Ajah will take him when he comes back," Egwene spoke with cold logic.
Nynaeve narrowed her eyes. "And what happens if something goes wrong, Egwene al'Vere? The Dragon is meant to save the world from the Dark One. What if your plan doesn't work, and the Red Ajah cannot take him? Will he be so forgiving as to let you run free? Will he excuse the betrayal of the girl he once loved? Isn't that what this is all about?"
"This is not what anything is about, Nynaeve. I am doing what I must."
"Keep telling yourself that, Egwene al'Vere and perhaps, someday, you'll believe that foolish tripe," her voice was even more acidic than usual.
Egwene opened her mouth to retort when without warning the air split wide open, and a seeming legion of Trollocs poured out. Egwene screamed and reacted instinctively, weaving quickly and sending the ground bucking upwards, chunks of rock and dirt flying every which way. Animal sounds erupted from all around them, and Nynaeve joined into the battle, sending brilliant loops of tiny lightening bolts from the great source of Power within her, as great as a woman of the Age of Legends in strength once she had finally learned to wield it.
The Trollocs screamed and died, but more and more and more kept streaming out from the portal. Five converged upon Egwene, who backed herself up against a tree, and seven swarmed Nynaeve. Brilliant fire lit the air, and still more Trollocs streamed forth, running, screaming, into the woods. The two Tar Valon denizens destroyed the Trollocs which attacked them, even as humans began to appear in the midst of the Trollocs. Ahead, in the distance, screams began to reverberate from the village.
Nynaeve gasped and turned toward Emond's Field, momentarily letting down her guard. Egwene, viewing the Aes Sedai from the corner of her eye, saw the Trolloc blade slip through Nyaeve's guard too late. Shadow forged steel slid with an ugly, slick sound through human flesh. Nynaeve screamed, agony piercing the air. The Gate shut as Nynaeve fell to the ground, and the last figure stepped through. The Aes Sedai caught a glimpse of blue-grey eyes flashing in hard resignation, and strange half-awareness, swirling with a darkness that she had not seen there when last she had seen that same man. Nynaeve's eyes rolled up in her head as the Shadowsteel overwhelmed her completely, breath leaving her in a final gasp.
***
The final Trolloc streamed past Egwene who leaned, heaving, against a tree, staring alternately at Nynaeve and Rand.
"She's dead," she whispered.
"I know," he answered, tilting his head.
"What has happened to you?" she asked harshly, staring at him, flinching as screams echoed in the distance.
"What has happened to you," he murmured, "I have done what I must. I will save what I can. As always."
Egwene watched as he strode past her, sharply, without looking back. Her own face hardened past all return, and she cursed under her breath, stalking after him.
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