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"Here we are," Darris said proudly. "The camp of the Red Hand."
"I've seen better," Mel said flatly.
"It needs more guards," Tem muttered, earning a much more reproachful look than Mel had. Her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own lately. "Sorry."
Mai gave her a worried smile. "Are you feeling okay?"
Tem shrugged stiffly. She did not want to talk to Mai right now. That would involve remembering what Tamla had told her.
"Tem, what did I do?" Mai sounded balanced between hurt and fury. For a moment both emotions played across her face. Then fury won out completely. "We're in this together," she snapped, apparently having just enough control to keep her voice low. "I don't care if you hate me, but don't you dare think that you're the only one trying to figure everything out. I have people talking in my head, if that makes you feel any bloody better. You're not alone here unless you make it that way!"
Tem squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. I'm not the one who's going to go mad, she reminded herself. Blood and bloody flaming ashes. She sighed. "Mai, I'm sorry - "
But Mai had already strode on ahead, apparently venting her frustrations to Wat. Tem could almost see a wall rising between her and her friend. No, not just Mai. Wat would side with her, of course, and Darris and Ihvan if she was any judge of boys, and Dav and Jaia would certainly go with her as well. So would Alse, if she was alive. And Hal, because he had never been able to think for himself. Quentin? Tem laughed inwardly. Quentin wanted Mai as his pet Paladin. Hilden did whatever the A'sh'man told her to. Which left Tem with what? Mel and Tamla? Those two seemed willing to take all sides - or in Mel's case, no side at all.
Darris was talking with some of the Red Hand up ahead; they were welcoming him back and interrogating him about his strange guests. Tem snorted and fell back, stepping into the shadows of the forest. The guards, such as they were, would be easy to avoid.
She needed time to think. Or to run.
***
Tamla sighed and watched Tem slip into the trees. For a moment she considered calling out to the girl, but there was nothing she could possibly have said. She should have known that vereni so closely connected to the Paladin in the Third Age would also be so now. I shouldn't have said anything.
"You saw that, too?" Mel fell into step beside her. He was not exactly a repulsive man, but it was as if his features had been taken from other, better proportioned faces and slapped on. "She's having a tough time. I'd bet Jaia is too, wherever she is now. There's three vereni, not just one. There's more people being targeted by the Shadow than just Mai."
"I know." She knew all too well. "Mel, what are you doing here? I mean, you're not just along for the thrill."
Mel shrugged. "I don't know. I used to serve in the South Manthrin regiment when I was Mai's age, back before there were laws against North Manthrinians holding a bloody sword against the bloody Tashiri. Eswen - my wife - was another soldier, just a year younger than me, even though women weren't allowed. She was serving as an infantryman under the name Robb. I caught on after she was wounded."
"And you both came back to Baradell?"
"After the regiment was disbanded." Mel smiled tightly. "She died two winters later. I didn't even get sick." Abruptly his face hardened. "That's why I'm here. I want to make sure these children get what happiness they can. They don't deserve what's happening to them."
Tamla shook her head. "No," she murmured. "They don't." She made herself brighten, although it took a great deal of effort. "Do you think you followed the Worldbreaker around in the Third Age?"
Mel laughed, genuinely amused. "Me? Songmistress, I was probably a flaming street thief."
***
The camp was small and crowded, consisting of six small tents and a single large one, all carefully camoflagued against the backdrop of trees and undergrowth. The men and women watching the new arrivals cautiously were of all ages and backgrounds. Mai saw some barely older than Dav and others who might match Quentin in years. All moved spryly and had some sort of weapon at ready.
"Darris!" A middle-aged woman with russet hair embraced the young scout. "About bloody time!"
"Yes! About bloody time!" A boy of about thirteen - sharing the woman's coloring almost perfectly - gave a backslap that would probably cripple in a few years. The woman was surely the mother of both Darris and the boy, but whereas she had given her lean build to her elder son, the younger was stocky and would clearly be quite solid when he reached his full growth.
Ihvan smiled good-naturedly. He was not precisely under guard - at least, not according to anyone but Wat - but he still kept his hands at his sides and made no effort to touch idan. Neither did Darris or Wat; Mai would have felt channeling as a sort of tingle against her skin. "Your family?"
Mai smiled, feeling a touch of envy as she remembered her own parents. They had treated her as an unpleasant stray animal who would not leave their home. She was very, very glad she had not inherited the locally famous DeShellay looks, if only because being associated with people that callous was unpleasant.
"My mother and brother." Darris gave Ihvan a cautious look, but stepped aside so that his family could introduce themselves.
The woman eyed Ihvan carefully, dark blue eyes examining him as she might a racehorse. Then, strangely enough, they flickered to Mai, Wat, and Darris before returned to the young Lord Helios. The hostility that had lurked just below the surface vanished in a moment, replaced by a sort of knowing amusement that would have disconcerted the most strong-willed would-be suitor. "I'm Wendre nin Tames a'E'ten l'E'don," she said finally.
Mai frowned at Darris's mother. There was something there, something she could not quite put her finger on...
Wendre could channel, she realized suddenly. It was so slight that the woman had probably not even noticed, but it was there. Strangely, Mai felt like jumping with excitement. She had never met another woman who could channel before, not even a Sister. And a Red Hand was much, much better than someone connected to the Order.
The boy grinned impishly. "Keiran nin Tames a'Na'se l'E'ten." His greeting was obviously directed at Mai as well as Ihvan, but his widening smile did not have the effect he probably intented. His eyes were calculating and careful, not malicious, but certainly lacking the honesty that marked Darris - much less the open frankness that she had come to expect from Ihvan. They were old eyes.
"Why is there a Wise Man traveling with your camp?" Ihvan asked, frowning at the flags hanging in front of the largest tent. One was the simple red hand on a white field, the other was a blue field split by a vertical golden bar.
Wat stopped glowering at nothing. He did not seem fond of Ihvan - why was completely beyond Mai - but his curiosity had clearly gotten the better of him. "Wise Man?"
"A channeler," Ihvan said with a frown at Darris. "A wilder."
"One who advises us on issues," Wendre added, her eyes narrowing as she watched Wat. "Some are channelers, yes."
They sound like the bloody Aiel.
Mai frowned at the inner voice, automatically tugging at her bonnet to make sure her mark was hidden. Eye-what?
The Warrior stirred restlessly, like he usually did when she raised a direct question. Fighterrs, he said helpfully. Their Wise Ones could channel. Then, a trifle more irritably, Why won't you leave me alone?
You're the one who opened your... well, not your mouth, since you haven't got one. But you started talking. You're a fine one to complain when you're sitting in the back of my head. If you can't say something useful, shut up. She slammed the walls down around the Warrior and returned her attention to the world.
"... they Test us when we want to join the Tames or the E'ten or people like that," Keiran was saying cheerfully. "When I wanted to be Tames, I had to prove myself. Sometimes Wise Men get messages from the Servants in their dreams. That's why they come when they're needed. Like now." He nodded to the tent.
Darris cleared his throat. "He'll probably want to see you, Mai. Just because of... you know." He shifted uneasily.
Your friend is not here. The Teacher's voice spoke up suddenly.
Mai blinked. What do you mean, she's gone? Tem?
The man you share my head with calls her Mat. And refers to her as a he, I might add.
Her name's Tem, Mai snapped as she scanned the campsite. There were twenty-odd people, not counting Tamla and Mel, but Tem was nowhere in sight. Where did she go? Did you see her? And you are in my head, in case you're interested.
"Tem's not here," she said aloud.
"What do you mean, Tem's not here?" Wat scanned the campsite, grimacing as he, too, came up empty. "Blood and fire," he cursed softly. "Where did she go?"
"Probably looking for a dice game," Darris said, although he did not sound particularly convinced. "Um, you probably should meet the Wise Man now. If something has happened to Tem, he might be able to tell you something."
"Maybe she needed time alone," Ihvan added with a frown at the woods. "You two didn't look like you were getting along."
Mai glared at the boys - all three of them. Wat at least had the grace to look embarrassed by Ihvan's comment, but the Helios heir apparently had no such feelings and Darris seemed to agree with him. Bloody boys. "Fine. If that's what this Wise Man wants, I'll meet with him. But you better bloody find her safe and sound, or I'll have the Sea Folk carry you off across the water."
Wendre frowned. "Sea Folk?"
Don't say a word, Mai growled at the voices. "Just a saying. I'm going to go see the Wise Man." With as much dignity as she could, she started for the large tent.
***
Leese Dalor ignored her companions. Companion, actually; that man had returned to wherever he had come from, leaving the two women alone in the bowels of the Black Tower. Leese did not know his name, nor did she expect to ever learn it. That she had discovered Layla Helios' identity was sheer good fortune.
Contrary to what the - for lack of a more appropriate word - Lady Helios believed, Leese did not enjoy causing pain. It was effective, certainly, a decided means to a worthwhile end, but it was not something to revel in. And unlike certain legends from Ages past, she had only the slightest control over the details of it - the ways and depths that other people felt things. Leese was not sadistic. She just did what she was told.
It was amazing what had been justified with those words.
"You did not need to kill them," she said quietly, eyeing the sad pile of small, white-clad bodies. Morgaen had been just a few years older when -
Best not to think about Morgaen. Not until she needed to.
Layla turned slowly away from the dead Novices and Accepted, her hands holding her skirts daintily. Nothing - not anger, not fear, nothing - was visible in those eyes. It was easy for Leese to forget that the pretty young woman was not only intelligent, but brutal. Not to mention bold; she had seen Layla do things that she would not dream of. "Do you realize that a Novice escaped?" the Trahelion heiress asked softly. "That girl was more powerful than the so-called Amyrlin Seat thrice over and she is running loose for the White to find."
"I would be more worried about your brother," Leese retorted as calmly as she could. She knew she resembled nothing so much as a governess, all tight bun and gray dress and sharply angled face. If she had wished it, she could have taken a younger appearance or slowed the aging process, but she had not done so. More than half of her forty years had been spent serving the Great Lord of the Darkness and she wore them like a badge of honor. A badge in honor of her murdered daughter.
When Layla did not react, she turned her attention to the Ae'dai shielded and thrown like limp rags into all corners of the small, dank closet that seemed to pass for a classroom in the laughable White Tower. Most had given up what little scraps they had, but the smooth-cheeked Amyrlin Seat clung stubbornly to resistance. Leese had been told that the woman could See, so she allowed the barest trickle of idar to trickle through her weavings. Enough so that something useful could be made known if need be. There was something about this Asuwa woman that reminded her of another she had met not so long ago. Elza Mill had also held firm - against temptation instead of torture, to be sure - but it was something beyond that tenuous thread that linked the two channelers. They both radiating a commanding presence and more, they both expected to be obeyed.
She channeled a fresh wave of agony through the Amyrlin before glancing back at Layla. "The young Soldier you captured presents a problem. I do not wish to leave another body for the M'Hael to find."
"I will deal with him." Layla turned and swept from the room, her silken skirts swishing behind her. What she could do - what she would do on that unfortunate Soldier - turned Leese's stomach. Her methods were not such a violation. And she did not see them as entertainment. She had that much respect for them. Even the Ae'dai.
The Amyrlin shuddered suddenly. Her mouth gaped open, but what emerged was not the carefully damped shrieks, as Leese had expected. Instead words tumbled out in a voice deep and rich and not at all connected to the woman it emerged from. Her eyes saw past Leese, watching something that only she could see.
"Seven they are: the illuminated, the reaper, the warlord, the vengeful, the slighted, the beauty, the marked. Five serve him, two stand against him. As one falls so is another redeemed. The champion of the Light wears two faces and speaks with five voices, yet the one who shall cleave the darkness from the world of men is not in their number. This I See."
Leese sagged against a wall, hastily cutting the Amyrlin off from idar. The champion of the Light had to be the Paladin , but how could DeShellay wear two faces? And how could she speak with five voices? Who were the seven? And if the Paladin would not fight for the Light, then who?
You have much to tell me, Alwen Asuwa. And I will have it all from you.
***
"I have been waiting for you."
Mai stopped inside the dark tent. There was no fire, but a small globe of light hovered in front of her, casting strange blue shadows on the canvas walls. She could not see anyone around her, but she could sense movement in the darkness. "Who's there?"
"A friend. Someone who can help you." Something shifted, the light moved, and a man stepped into the small patch of illumination. He was tall, perhaps almost as tall as Jaia, and he was perhaps ten years older than Mai. Dressed in a robe of blue and gold, with a jeweled dagger at his hip, he would have given Tamla serious competition. She had never seen hair that dark or eyes that deep.
"You didn't answer my question," she said as levelly as she could. She did not like being set on edge. Without thinking, she embraced idar, taint and all. "Who are you."
"Iacen. And you are Mai DeShellay, the Dragon."
"The Dragon is five thousand years dead," Mai countered. She felt as if she had been fighting a battle for hours. One of the voices rumbled softly in her head. "I do not claim to be the Lord of the Morning, nor the Kinslayer, nor Lews Therin Telamon." She did not know where those names had come from, but she spoke them anyway.
Iacen tilted his head to one side. "Few know those titles now. That you do tells me that you are indeed the Dragon, born into the body of a village girl. Lews Therin Telamon, Rand al'Thor, Mairya DeShellay... it makes no difference." His slight smile widened. "You need my help, Mai DeShellay. You need me."
"Why?" The question, unlike so many other things in the past weeks, came solely from Mai. There was nothing behind it but her own intuition. "Why do I need your help?"
"Do you have a trained channeler among you? Do you have anyone with knowledge of the Dreaming?" He shook his head. "I can guide you, Mai DeShellay, if you are willing to trust me." He held out his hand. "I am an enemy of the Dark One, just as you are. Will you take my help?"
***
Tamla came hurrying up to Wat so quickly that he thought she was going to run him over. The songmistress was still beautiful, but now sudden worry made her eyes wide and thinned her full lips. "Where's Mai?" she demanded. "Where did she go?"
"To speak to the Wise Man," Wat answered slowly. "Listen, have you seen - ?"
Tamla did not give him time to finish asking about Tem. "The Wise Man. In that tent there?"
"The large one?" Now Wat was really confused. "Yes."
"Flames of Shagul!" A knife flashed into the songmistress's hand. "How can you not sense it? Are you that bloody blind?"
Wat swallowed. There was murder in Tamla's eyes - and fear. "What's the matter? There are no Trocs here."
"There are worse things than Trocs." With that, the songmistress ran toward the tent with long, loping strides as if her life depended on it.
Or, Wat realized with a sudden sickening lurch, as if Mai's life did.
Drawing his own knife, he started after her.
***
Mai watched Iacen carefully. "You are an enemy of the Dark One?" she echoed.
"Yes. I will fight by your side at Shagul. Is that not enough?"
"Perhaps. I will trust you for now." Mai started to extend her hand.
The Warrior surged up before she could stop him, before she could hammer down the walls. She was frozen, unable to lift her hand to accept Iacen's offer. Her mouth moved of its own accord. The words that tumbled forth were in a language she did not know, but she understood them as if they were in her birth tongue. It was blatently false, and yet she knew that it was true.
"You have no shadow."
***
Tamla pounded toward the tent, throwing caution to the wind. Better to hand Mai to the Great Lord - better to let Trocs eat her alive - than to leave her to what she sensed in that tent.
Creatures of the Great Lord sensed the evil of Sha'loth. Demons - chosen ones - knew to fear it.
She drew on idar. Her own safety no longer mattered. All she cared about was Mai.
***
Iacen moved.
Mai had never seen anyone that fast - not Hilden, not even Tamla with her knives. Idar fumbled in her untrained grasp as the world was plunged into blackness. Out of the corner of her eye, reflecting the faintest glint of light, she saw something gleam like blood crystallized.
Agony lanced through her side. There was nothing but darkness and pain and evil all around her. She could not escape. She could not even stop her slide into unconsciousness.
Help me! The voices did not answer. No one answered. HELP ME!
***
"Tem?" Darris sighed and stepped over a broken branch. For a village girl, she did not leave an easy trail to follow, even for a member of the Red Hand. He had had to channel just to find her. "Tem, I know you're here. Mai's worried about you."
"Mai is better off without me and I think we both know it." Tem hopped out of a tree, landing soundlessly on the forest floor. Her eyes were red and puffy, but Darris had the grace not to say anything. Not now, anyway. "Did she send you to find me?"
"She's worried about you, yes." Darris gave the girl a long look. He did not really understand how she was tied to Mai, but he knew that she was just as important as the Paladin. Half the time he thought that if he stood between the two girls, he would be pulled like a rope in tug-of-war. It was like being caught in two currents going in opposite directions. "Come on, Tem. I don't know what's upset you, but maybe you - "
Tem went ghostly-white, the blood visibly draining from her face. She stared back in the direction of the camp and licked pale lips.
"Tem?" Darris tried to grab her by the arm, but she snaked away. "Tem, what's the matter?"
He had just enough time to catch her before she collapsed in a faint, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
***
Brendell screamed. That was the only word for the wrenching noise that tore from him.
Elza wheeled her horse around, sudden alarm erasing thoughts of whether or not she was better on her own. "What's the matter? What happened?"
"Catch him!" Katerina half jumped, half dove from her own mount, cushioning Brendell with her own body as he tumbled out of the saddle. Elza scrambled down after her, alternately cursing and praying.
The boy's eyes were wide open and he shuddered as if gripped by a seizure. Elza had to bite back a sob. She was not even sure if he was breathing.
***
The tent blew away, caught in a wind no one could see. Wat staggered after Tamla, followed by much of the camp. There were two crumpled figures on the ground - a man clutching a jeweled dagger, and a girl...
No. Oh, please, no.
"Mai!" Wat stumbled over to her, pushing past Tamla. His friend's green eyes stared up at him accusingly from her too-pale face. He could not even tell if she was breathing. From the blood covering her from ribs to hip, he did not think it mattered.
His vision blurred; the run must have been too much for him. He was aware of other people around him, but they were unimportant. There was nothing more important than Mai. Perhaps nothing existed but Mai. The world and the prophecies could go hang.
All that mattered was that the girl he loved was surely dead, and he had not been there to save her.
***
Mai fell against cold black rock, slipping across the blood-slicked surface. Her blood. She knew it was her blood. The pain in her side made breathing almost impossible, but she made herself scream out anyway above the cacaphony in her head. She did not care if Iacen heard her, or the Dark One for that matter. "Tem! Jaia!" Her voice broke. "Help me!"
"I'm here." A hand closed around her wrist and she was pulled to her feet. On the unsteady footing of the wet rocks, she slipped and slid against her rescuer's shoulder. "We have to get out of here. I think I've got somewhere we can hide."
"Hurry up and get her out, then." That was from a second voice. Like the first, it was male and rough with exhaustion. She forced her eyes to focus and caught a flash of silver. "Bloody take her now. I can keep him distracted."
The first voice spoke after a moment, as if suddenly unsure. It did not seemed to recognize the second. "What are you doing here?"
"Saving your bloody hides! Hurry up and get her out! He'll find her if you don't go now!"
"I'm not going to leave you by yourself."
"Listen to me," the second voice barked. "This is the Dark One's flaming domain. I'd wager she came here as a last defense, but there's no way any other help can get to her now. I'm going to lead him away, but if you don't go, he'll have her. She's the prize."
There was another instant of hesitation. Then the world wrenched around Mai, shifting and twirling as the sky and the horizon melted into a small white-walled room with a single pallet. Mai collapsed against the bed without thinking, unable to even half support herself for a moment longer. She could feel the blood pulsing from her wound with every heartbeat.
Desperately blinking dark spots from her eyes, she focused on the boy standing near her. He had a bandage in his hand, although she had no idea where it had come from. "Where am I?" she whispered.
"In the Dreaming. In my old home, actually." The boy smiled and reached for a wet cloth. "Let me see if I can get that cleaned. I'd heal you, but I'm afraid I'd do more harm than good. It was never my specialty." He smiled slightly. "I've been watching you for a long time. You and your friends. I didn't mean to, but... " A shrug. "Vereni, I think you're called. You're the Paladin."
"I'm Mai DeShellay." She was tired of titles and pasts. "Just Mai DeShellay. Why are you helping me?"
"Because I want to. And... well, a friend of mine cares about you." He flushed slightly, clearly embarrassed. "Here. Can I take a look at that?"
Mai nodded slowly. She had to trust somewhere and the boy seemed as likely a place to start. He reminded her of Tem, for some reason. Trust. The thought came and went in a flash. "What's your name?" she asked finally.
The boy grinned faintly. "Brendell Cane."
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