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"Who are you?" Nynaeve demanded, glaring at the strange man, her hackles raised at the manner by which the man had arrived, grasping saidar just in case. He smiled at her, almost charmingly but not quite, as though he couldn't be bothered enough. "And here I thought backwater communities were famous for their quaint hospitality and politeness."
"Not to strangers who drop by uninvited and with decided rudeness," Tam said coldly then, eyeing the man with hostility.
"I wasn't aware of the rules," the man said flatly before turning back to Marin. "Madam, are you to lead me, or shall I carve my own path?"
"You're mad," she snapped, "To ask for what you did. Why would we associate with any False Dragon?" she looked mightily indignant, and may have fooled another, but the man simply smiled coldly and said, "You may not with a False, but this one is the true, and well you know it. I see that you are not going to be co-operative. I didn't expect you to be. You'll help me in another manner, then."
Without warning, Nynaeve and Egwene found themselves shielded tightly, unable to access the Source. All in the room were immobilized, and the two from Tar Valon looked sick once more. Another man that could channel; to even think of it was to taste bile.
The man stretched out a hand and did something that they could not see, concentration upon his face. A moment later and he nodded, before saying, "I have not woven that in a literal Age. It's a challenge signal, he'll know now I'm here, and not to have tea," he smiled slightly, twistedly.
A moment more, and he frowned. No one was coming. The man shook his head and pulled out a chair from the table, ignoring the people who could do no more than breath around him.
Other than the frown, he tried to appear nonchalant about Rand's lack of appearance, but it was obviously beginning to annoy him more than a little.
Lanfear swept into the room then, her eyes widening slightly at the man before she sneered at him, recovering nicely from her surprise. Even her sneer looked lovely, Egwene thought sourly in her captivity.
"Hello Demandred," she spoke haughtily, "What are you waiting for? Hand and foot service? If so, you seem to have tied up your only source."
Demandred! If they could have recoiled, the Emond's Fielders would have. Another Forsaken! Somehow, though, their fear and loathing just didn't seem as strong as it should have. They had been exposed to so much in such a short time that it seemed to have numbed them to true horror.
"I am waiting for Lews Therin, as well you know, Lanfear," the man spoke irritably, before he swept his eyes over her, "You're looking quite lovely."
Lanfear looked annoyed, "Lavishing me with compliments will not lighten the mood, Demandred. And I've no need for you to tell me what I already know."
The man looked briefly surprised, and amused, "Blatant egotism just isn't your style, my dear. But then, egos do tend to become a good bit larger around Lews Therin, now don't they?"
"You've come here to challenge him," the woman spoke in a soft, deadly voice.
"I have," he was now grave.
"He may be here in a moment," Lanfear said, "And he may not. He is contemplating duty."
"How characteristic of him."
"You cannot leave with these... hostages," she smiled rather patronizingly. "You have set the grounds for the challenge, and they cannot be changed until he accepts. If you move, the challenge is void," she tilted her head, "I've always found the rules of challenge amongst the males to be silly nonsense, but I did take the time to memorize them just in case they would come in handy. With anyone else, I would say that I don't see why you're using them to begin with, since you're obviously here to battle, not to play at a silly duel, but I'm sure you want your long awaited and anticipated victory to be as formal and overwhelming as possible," her voice had turned drippingly mocking, and the man's eyes blazed in anger. He snarled and moved to weave flows to strike her, when the air split open once more, and Rand stepped through, a beam of flame springing forth from him. He looked unsurprised as Demandred deflected it hurriedly.
"Challenge accepted," Rand's voice was a cold rumble, "I will play at your rivalry no longer. Now, we will end it."
Demandred stood, "The Great Lord has asked me to deliver a message to you, Lews Therin. I don't expect you to survive to follow up on it, but far be it for me to not deliver. Your time is up. Either join the Great Lord, or watch your life and your loved ones turn to ash all around you. Be destroyed." A beam of answering fire sprang from his hands, running toward Rand. It was neatly blocked before it reached half-way.
"Follow me," Rand barked, before jumping through a sudden gash in reality. Demandred snarled, and dashed after him. In the wake of his departure, the villagers fell to their knees, released without warning from their bonds of Power.
"Where are they going?" Egwene demanded as she glared at Lanfear.
"To a place in which the shall combat to the death," the woman spoke coolly.
"What?! And you let him go?" the Accepted was furious.
"Lews Therin is more skilled than Demandred ever was. It is the mark of the so-called rivalry that he mentioned. Demandred was ever jealous of Lews Therin, who shall win this battle."
"Rand is sick now! Whatever may 'usually' happen could very well not be," Marin said then, coldly.
Lanfear pressed her lips together and turned to her father-in-law. "Would you put your fingers in front of the mouths of battling snakes who hiss with fangs of poison, and would strike at you in an instant should you come close?"
"No," Tam said.
"I thought not. You seem a man of common sense, and so perhaps you can convince your companions that interfering now in this would mean nothing but your deaths," she blinked and turned around, pausing at the door, staring at the wall. She seemed to concentrate before she shook her head and said, "I do believe I know where they went. It would be like Lews Therin to remind himself in such a fashion of the consequences of failure," she exhaled once and disappeared back out the door.
Tam questioned the air, "And where is that?"
***
The vast stone ridge was a landmark that had stood for an Age, evolving and growing and crumbling and moulding and engulfing over time. Rand, staring at it, could see the ridges of the place it had half consumed, the marvellous palace that had been a prime target for nature's ravages, the stone that still looked scorched, even after all this time.
"You are my memory, even beyond my recollections," Rand murmured in a rare moment of poetry, bleak though it was.
The castle was the one in which he had earned the title Kinslayer, slaughtering his family and retainers and friends. All those who loved him, all those whom he loved. It was painful and yet distant to gaze upon it. It was not grief in which he did so, though he almost wished it was, because he knew that, having come here once, he may not be able to refrain from doing so again and then he would grieve. Oh yes, then he would. But now, the place was that memory, that sharp reminder of failure and guilt.
Barid Bel Medar had been his dear friend, thousands of years ago, but that friendship had twisted as the man grew twisted with black and eager jealousy, hating him because the man could never surpass Lews Therin. He persisted upon hating him still, upon striving to be better than him, even now. Rand would tolerate it no longer, now that the man had threatened those he loved in doing it. Today, Demandred would die. Rand grimaced as another stab of moist pain shot through him from his side. Damn the taint!
Demandred had appeared behind him, he could feel it. The man was silent for a long moment, and Rand strengthened his resolve in those moments, his resolve to do what must be done, as it always had been.
"I did not expect for you to come here," the man finally said.
"I wanted to be discovered, I believe," Rand said, almost absently "We did not ride our horses to Emond's Field. We simply took them through a gate. Someone would have noticed that they were as fresh and cool as a show horse before the show," he smiled slightly, "And speaking as I did to them, dropping clues, did not help, either. Perhaps it makes me a hypocrite, but I don't appreciate any more threat in their lives than I already brought to them."
"It is hypocritical," Demandred said.
"My duty has always overwhelmed all other values in it's path. And that was the one thing in which you never came close to me," his voice was so hard then as to crack in half. Demandred's shields were strong, but turning around, meeting the man's dark eyes, knowing the other was summoning weaves of death, Rand knew that no shield was strong enough to repel the liquid, molten, burning steel that suddenly sprang from Rand's hands, thick and brilliant. The Forsaken's eyes widened in shock and horror, and he moved as though to dive out of the way, but he was not nearly quick enough. The balefire caught him head on, vaporizing him. And in that place where he had stood was a vaguely colourful shimmer, and then - nothing at all.
That was another thing Demandred had not approached his rival in. The ability to dare the forbidden, that which would take apart the Pattern, with barely a moment's thought. Turning to the Shadow was nothing in the face of balefire's implications, nothing in the face of that threat to the universe itself.
Rand sighed, staring at the spot, knowing the man was dead beyond all recovery, gone forever. A moment of nostalgia swept over him, and wave of memories from long ago. He firmed his lips into a line at the recollections, though, and shook his head. The man was dead, and that was all there was to it. Duty itself was all there was to his own life.
Rand opened a gateway to the Winespring Inn, prepared to announce the conclusion he had arrived at, to take the final step which would save him or damn him forever.
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