A Memory of Light

Rand faced the emptiness. “So,” he said into it. “This is where it wil real y happen. Moridin would have had me believe that a simple sword fight would decide this all.”


HE IS OF ME. BUT HIS EYES ARE SMALL.

“Yes,” Rand said. “I have noticed the same.”

SMALL TOOLS CAN BE EFFECTIVE. THE THINNEST OF KNIVES CAN STOP A HEART. HE HAS

BROUGHT YOU HERE, ADVERSARY.

None of this had happened the last time, when Rand had worn the name of Lews Therin. He could only interpret that as a good sign.

Now the battle truly began. He looked into the nothingness and felt it wel ing up. Then, like a sudden storm, the Dark One brought al of his force against Rand.

Perrin fell back against a tree, gasping at the pain. Slayers arrow had impaled his shoulder, the arrowhead coming out his back. He didn’t dare pull it free, not with . . .

He wavered. Thoughts came lethargically. Where was he? He’d shifted away from Slayer as far as he could go, but . . . he didn’t recognize this place. The trees were odd-shaped on top, too leafy, of a variety he’d never before seen. The storm blew here, but far more weakly.

Perrin slipped and hit the ground with a grunt. His shoulder flared with pain. He rolled over, staring up at the sky. He’d broken the arrow when fal ing.

It’s . . . it’s the wolf dream. I can just make the arrow vanish.

He tried to gather the strength to do so, but was too weak. He found himself floating, and he sent outward, seeking for wolves. He found the minds of some, and they started, sending back surprise.

A two-legs who can talk? What is this? What are you?

His nature seemed to frighten them, and they pushed him out of their minds. How could they not know what he was? Wolves had long, long memories. Surely . . . surely . . .

Faile, he thought. So beautiful, so clever. I should go to her. I just need to .. . need to close this Waygate . . . and I can get back to the Two Rivers to her . . .

Perrin rolled over and crawled to his knees. Was that his blood on the ground? So much red.

He blinked at it.

“Here you are,” a voice said.

Lanfear. He looked up at her, his vision blurry.

“So he defeated you,” she said, folding her arms. “Disappointing. I didn’t want to have to choose that one. I find you much more appealing, wolf.”

“Please,” he croaked.

“I’m tempted, though I shouldn’t be,” she said. “You’ve proven yourself weak.”

“I .. I can beat him.” Suddenly, the shame of having failed in front of her crushed Perrin.

When had he started worrying about what Lanfear thought of him? He couldn’t quite point to it.

She tapped one finger on her arm.

“Please . . .” Perrin said, raising a hand. “Please.”

“No,” she said, turning away. “I’ve learned the mistake of setting my heart on one who does not deserve it. Goodbye, wolf pup.”

She vanished, leaving Perrin on hands and knees in this strange place.

Faile, a piece of his mind said. Don’t worry about Lanfear. You have to go to Faile.

Yes . . . Yes, he could go to her, couldn’t he? Where was she? The Field of Merrilor. That was where he’d left her. It was where she would be. He shifted there, somehow gathering himself just enough to manage it. But of course she wasn’t there. He was in the wolf dream.

The portal Rand would send. It would be here. He just had to get to it. He needed . . . He needed . . .

He col apsed to the ground and rol ed to his back. He felt himself drifting into the nothingness. His vision blackened as he stared up at the churning sky. At least. . at least I was there for Rand, Perrin thought.

The wolves could hold Shayol Ghul on this side now, couldn’t they? They could keep Rand safe . . . They’d have to.

Faile poked a stick at their meager cook fire. Darkness had fallen, and the fire glowed with a faint red light. They hadn’t dared make it larger. Deadly things prowled the Blight. Trollocs were the least of the dangers here.

The air here smelled pungent, and Faile expected to find a rotting corpse behind every black-speckled shrub. The ground cracked when she stepped, dry earth crushing beneath her boots, as if rain had not been seen in centuries. As she sat in the camp, she saw a group of sickly green lights— like glowing insects in a swarm—passing in the distance, over a stand of silhouetted trees. She knew enough of the Blight to hold her breath until they passed.

She did not know what they were, and did not want to know.

She had led her group on a short hike to find this place for a camp. Along the way, one caravan worker had been killed by a twig, another by stepping in what looked like mud—but it had dissolved his leg. He’d gotten some of it on his face. He had thrashed and screamed as he died.