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Randal'Thor strode thoughtfully through the centre of Emond's Field, hearing but not truly registering the backgrounded screams that were ripped from the throats of the dying, even as the entire town slowly, agonizingly, died. The girl was chasing after him, he knew, the dark haired girl whom he had once loved. But he also knew that she would not reach him, in the same way that no one ever did, ever had. But that was not quite true, Rand frowned. Lanfear had reached him, reached him and caught him in the silver-white weaves of her snare. She loved him - but had he? No, he had not for a great many years, for the whole of an Age. She had enticed him into loving her again, when he could not remember his revulsion, his hatred of her lust for power, her possessiveness. And when he had begun to remember, it was already too late. And the other, the eternal enemy, the Dark One. That had caught him.
Not quite right. He had surrendered himself out of necessity. He had no military forces this time, no control and no position, and he had already strayed too far from the purity of his strength, in loving Lanfear, in wrapping himself in the threads of the Shadow, to simply go off and gather that which he needed. So often he wished that it could be as it had in his other life! Then, it had been simple. This is the Light and this is the Shadow. Destroy the Shadow, cage it in the prison its escaping from. Why, all you need to do is kill civilization, all you need to do is drive yourself mad. That's all. But now, he was seeing from the other side of the glass, and he did not want to. His spirit rebelled against the necessity of that.
Looking up, Rand shook his head as he came face to face with the Inn, once more. Here it was. His wife was here, he knew it. She had not talked with him, since he had left this place, but he knew she was here, somehow. It was not the Power, but it was the truth. Rand opened the door, and walked inside. The Trollocs had not yet reached the Inn. His footsteps echoed heavily, even as he stepped gracefully. With but the slightest of warnings, a slender form clad in a white gown burst into the hallway, saidar at the ready, he surmised by the tingling goosebumps that were raised upon his arms.
"Lews Therin," she hissed. "Where have you been?"
"Dealing with that which must be dealt with," Rand replied. His voice sounded strange and hollow even to his own ears.
"As usual," Lanfear spoke rather acidly, before she seemed to soften and smile. "Whilst you were dealing with what must be dealt with, I was held captive by this 'Red Ajah.' Charming ladies, I assure you. Quite ready to attack and sever you. They know nothing of manners," her smile turned somewhat sharkish. "I do know manners, but this day, I've chosen not to demonstrate them."
"Really?" Rand asked rather blandly.
"They intended to put me on trial. Imagine that. On trial for that which I committed when they were not even a wisp on the Wheel. They've certainly the arrogance to be Aes Sedai, even if they've not one iota of the skill."
He did not want to hear this; it was so wearisome. It made him feel tired, it made him long for the darkness.
"It is the way of the world, the way of our race," he said harshly, "We are more arrogant than Trollocs, and, unfortunately, more intelligent."
"Oh, you're in one of those moods aren't you?" she said disdainfully. "Very well. Sufficed to say, when the Reds heard the screams, they went off to investigate. They're battling Trollocs now. I took the time to undue some knots. I am free of the shielding, and quite ready to return home."
"How did they react to the snapping of their knots?" he asked, absently curious.
"Rather shocked," she shrugged, "It is an art lost to those children."
Rand nodded, listening more closely to the distance screams, and feeling his shoulders slump in despair. He knew what he had done, though the knowledge was still foggy and distant. The Trollocs were tearing apart the home that had nurtured him throughout his childhood. But he could still save it...
"Lews Therin," she said irritably, "I've spent more than enough time here in this provincial backwater. Are you coming?"
He regarded her stonily for a long moment, before speaking. "No, I must save them."
"I take it you brought our fine horned friends," she asked.
"Yes," he regard her steadily again before speaking, a foggy concern surfacing, "You must leave, Lanfear. The destructive environment cannot be good for the child," he nodded.
"How touching, darling," she leaned forward, eyes half lidded and dark in the shadowy hallway. "That you think of the child," her lips brushed his faintly, growing firmer soon enough, and he kissed her back with a sudden urgency. Lanfear drew away with a smile. "Come to me when you're finished saving your home from yourself, my love."
The woman turned away and opened a gate, stepping through in an instant. It closed behind her, leaving Rand alone.
***
Not, however, for long. Rand, the mission that his subconscious had set for him, to remove his wife and unborn child from the destruction, completed, had turned to exit the Inn, ready to save the people, when the air split once more, and this time that which emerged was a dark clad form, tall and slender, its face shadowed in the darkness of it's cloak.
"Greetings, Dragon," the voice, dark and cavernous, emerged from the shadows.
"Greetings, Ishamael," Rand answered in a flat, cold voice.
The figure tilted it's head to the side, its eyes briefly flaring, illuminating the picture of their fiery depths.
"I have come to deliver to you that which is long been your due," Ishamael said flatly.
"I can imagine," Rand said, knowing then that the Forsaken's insanity had overcome him, that Ishamael was here to destroy him. There was no time now for casual conversation. The man, insane or no, was still strong enough to destroy Rand should he not move fast enough.
With that in mind, Rand seized saidin, wove, and directed the Power against the other man. Ishamael struck back almost as quickly, and both blows were parried. Another strike, coming forward from both, with the speed and devastation of death, of the final breath of a human life.
All is irreversible, save death...
But even death is finite. To kill Ishamael would not mean his destruction. There would always be the chance that he may return. Rand himself was living proof of that fact. Oh, but there was something else...
Moving forward physically, he struck out, taking the man by surprise as his balled fist connected very strongly, very suddenly, with the Forsaken's jaw, sending Ishamael sprawling onto the hardwood floor, landing with a sharp thud. Absently flexing his clenched knuckles, Rand wondered how long it had been since the other had been taken down in such a manner. Wrapping him up in flows that cut off his access to saidin, Rand took the man up, floating him through the air and walked out the door, feeling Ishamael floating after him.
***
Emond's Field was in chaos. Egwene grimaced as she summoned flows to put out the fires that had sprung up all around in the midst of the Trollocs random destruction, smelling the scent of charred Trolloc flesh, and the occasional fried human. The Aes Sedai around her were slaying the remaining Trollocs, alongside the villagers who were putting in their fair share of a strike. Tam al'Thor was fighting strongly with the blacksmith and his wife, Egwene noted distantly.
How could Rand do this!? the thought screamed through her mind. What was he thinking?! Perhaps he wasn't thinking at all. Perhaps he was already mad. As she saw the last Trolloc go down, Egwene shuddered in horror and rage. The invaders of her home were dead, but the memories, she suspected, would be long in fading.
***
Rand stood on the edge of the destruction, watching as the last Trolloc fell, and the Aes Sedai gathered in a huddle, casting furious glances all around themselves. They wanted something more to strike out at, but could not express their anger on anyone save for Darkfriends or those who might attack them.Well, he would give them something.
"Farewell," Rand murmured, eyeing Ishamael, thinking of the fate he was bestowing upon the man. The fate that the Forsaken more than deserved.
Walking forward, Rand smiled at the Aes Sedai. They straightened quickly, paranoia and suspicion in their eyes.
"I am Rand al'Thor," he said, nodding to them. Their eyes shot wide open in loathing and horror. Egwene, watching along with them, looked puzzled.
His own defences strong, the man continued, "You will not sever me, or my wife, this day. But I do offer to you one that you would find adequate in compensation for your ... disappointment. This is Ishamael," he nodded backwards at the unconscious, hovering man. "Gentle him quickly. Or he shall break his bonds as Lanfear did hers. He is my token to you," Rand sneered ever so slightly at the end, before he turned to Egwene. "Such tokens to those who should not be here. You have betrayed me, Egwene al'Vere. I release you now in memory of old times, of the friendship we once shared. Next time, I will not be so generous."
His father had noticed the scene, and was approaching. Tying the knots of the shielding about Ishamael ever tighter, Rand opened a Gate away from Emond's Field. He was once more overcome with weariness, and no longer wished to be here, having now rid himself of his enemy, who would soon be helpless as a babe, severed of his Power.
Before Tam could reach him, Rand stepped through, ignoring the persistent probing that the Red Ajah had been trying to trap him with for the last few moments, and closed it behind him.
***
The Red Ajah crowded around the man on the ground once the Dragon had departed. Eyeing him with combined eagerness and loathing, their eyes virtually shone.
"We must gentle him immediately," Lillian, who was still their leader, spoke firmly, "The... other ... was correct in that. We cannot trust that he will remain bound until we reach the Tower."
There were no objections from her Sisters, and the woman prepared to summon the flows which would relieve the Forsaken of his Power.
"Wait," a voice said. "There aren't as many of you now. I can help you."
Lillian eyed the girl speculatively. "It has long been said that you were to choose Green Ajah when you took to the ring and shawl, Egwene al'Vere."
Egwene smiled thinly, "I was going to. I changed my mind."
Lillian nodded, contemplating the implications of the this. Egwene was very powerful, to have such a one as a Red would be a great asset. This was a most satisfying turn of events. They had lost Lanfear, and failed to phase the Dragon in the slightest, but they did have this girl, and Ishamael, the very Betrayer of Hope himself.
"Very well," Lillian said.
"Egwene!" a voice said sharply from behind, the haggard, tall, thin woman, who ran the Winespring Inn speaking up.
"I will do this, Mother," Egwene said, facing her. "It must be done. And Rand was behind this attack. Did you know that?"
The woman paled with shock, and a man with a lined face and sturdy built that had visited the Inn often of late, Lillian recalled, cursed in despair.
"I will do this in the hope of someday doing it to him," Egwene finished with mingled grief and rage, her eyes a picture of fury and despair. The older woman spoke again, but the girl ignored her mother, turning back to Lillian as she did.
"Show me how it's done," she said softly, "Please, Aes Sedai."
Lillian nodded in agreement, and quickly began to instruct the girl in the not so gentle art of gentling.
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