The Wheel of Time

by Robert Jordan

  Mat turned back to the attackers, spinning his spear, trying to force them back. But they didn’t care about being wounded, they didn’t care how dangerous Mat was. They just kept coming! Surrounding him. Coming at him from every side. Bloody ashes! He twisted just in time to see a dark shape rush him from behind.

  Something flashed in the night, reflecting some very distant light. The dark figure behind Mat slumped to the ground. Another flash, and one of the ones in front of Mat fell. Suddenly, a figure on a white horse rushed past, and another knife flashed in the air, dropping a third man.

  “Thom!” Mat called, recognizing the cloak.

  “Get on your horse!” Thom’s voice called back. “I’m running out of knives!”

  Mat swept out with his spear, dropping two more villagers, then dashed forward and leaped into his saddle, trusting Thom to cover his retreat. Indeed, he heard a few cries of pain from behind. A moment later, a thundering sound on the road announced the imminent approach of horses. Mat pulled himself into his saddle as the creatures tore through the black morass, scattering the villagers.

  “Mat, you fool!” Talmanes shouted from one of the horses, barely visible as a silhouette against the night.

  Mat smiled gratefully at Talmanes, turning Pips, and caught Delarn as the man almost slid free. The Redarm was alive, for he struggled weakly, but there was a slick wet patch at his side. Mat held the man in front of him, ignoring the reins in the darkness and controlling Pips with a quick twist of the knees. He didn’t know horseback battle commands himself, but those blasted memories did, and so he’d trained Pips to obey.

  Thom galloped past, and Mat turned Pips to follow, steadying Delarn with one hand and carrying his spear in the other. Talmanes and Harnan rode to either side of him, charging down the corridor of madness toward the inn at the end.

  “Come on, man,” Mat whispered to Delarn. “Hang on. The Aes Sedai are just ahead. They’ll fix you up.”

  Delarn whispered something back.

  Mat leaned forward. “What was that?”

  “. . . and toss the dice until we fly,” Delarn whispered. “To dance with Jak o’ the Shadows. . . .”

  “Great,” Mat muttered. There were lights ahead, and he could see they were coming from the inn. Perhaps they’d find one place in this flaming village where the people’s brains hadn’t turned inside out.

  But no. Those bursts of light were familiar. Balls of fire, flashing in the upper-story windows of the inn.

  “Well,” Talmanes noted from his left, “looks like the Aes Sedai still live. That’s something, at least.”

  Figures clustered around the front of the inn, fighting in the darkness, their forms periodically lit from above by the flashes in the windows.

  “Round to the back,” Thom suggested.

  “Go,” Mat said to them, charging past the fighting figures. Talmanes, Thom and Harnan followed close on Pips’ hooves. Mat blessed his luck that they didn’t hit a hole or rut in the ground as they crossed the softer earth coming around behind the inn. The horses could easily have tripped and broken a leg, throwing all of them into disaster.

  The back of the inn was silent, and Mat reined in. Thom leaped from his horse, his agility defying his earlier complaints about his age. He took up position watching the side of the building to see that they weren’t followed.

  “Harnan!” Mat said, thrusting his spear toward the stables. “Get the women’s horses out and ready them. Saddle them if you can, but be ready to go without those if we have to. Light willing, we won’t have to ride far, just a mile or so to get out of the village and away from this insanity.”

  Harnan saluted in the darkness, then dismounted and dashed over to the stables. Mat waited long enough to determine that nobody was going to jump out at him from the darkness, then spoke to Delarn, still held in front of him. “You still conscious?”

  Delarn nodded weakly. “Yes, Mat. But I’ve taken a gut wound. I. . . .”

  “We’ll get the Aes Sedai,” Mat said. “All you need to do is sit right here. Stay in the saddle, all right?”

  Delarn nodded again. Mat hesitated at the weakness in the man’s motions, but Delarn took Pips’ reins, and seemed determined. So Mat slid out of the saddle, holding his ashandarei at the ready.

  “Mat,” Delarn said from the saddle.

  Mat turned back.

  “Thank you. For coming back for me.”

  “I wasn’t going to leave a man to that,” Mat said, shivering. “Dying on the battlefield is one thing, but to die out there, in that darkness. . . . Well, I wasn’t going to let it happen. Talmanes! See if you can find some light.”

  “Working on it,” the Cairhienin said from beside the inn’s back door. He had found a lantern hanging there. A few strikes of flint and steel later, and a small, soft glow lit the backyard of the inn. Talmanes quickly closed the shield, keeping the light mostly hidden.

  Thom trotted back to them. “No one following, Mat,” he said.

  Mat nodded. By the lanternlight, he could see that Delarn was in bad shape. Not just the gut wound, but scrapes across the face, rips in his uniform, one eye swollen shut.

  Mat whipped out a handkerchief and pressed it against the gut wound, standing beside Pips and reaching up to the man in the saddle. “Hold this tight. How’d the wound happen? They don’t use weapons.”

  “One got my own sword away from me,” Delarn said with a grunt. “He used it well enough once he had it.”

  Talmanes had opened the back door of the inn. He looked to Mat and nodded. The way inside was clear.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Mat promised Delarn. Holding his ashandarei in a loose grip, he crossed the short distance to the door and nodded to Talmanes and Thom. The three of them ducked inside.

  The door led to the kitchens. Mat scanned the dark room, and Talmanes nudged him, pointing at several lumps on the floor. The sliver of lantern light revealed a pair of kitchen boys, barely ten years old, dead on the ground, their necks twisted. Mat glanced away, steeling himself, and inched into the room. Light! Only lads, and now dead by this insanity.

  Thom shook his head grimly, and the three of them crept forward. They found the cook in the next hallway, grunting as he beat on the head of what appeared to be the innkeeper. It was a man in a white apron, at least. He was already dead. The fat cook turned toward Mat and Talmanes the moment they entered the hallway, feral rage in his eyes. Mat reluctantly struck, silencing him before he could howl and bring more people against them.

  “There’s fighting on the stairs,” Talmanes said, nodding forward.

  “I’ll bet there’s a servants’ stairwell,” Thom noted. “This looks like a nice enough place for it.”

  Sure enough, by cutting through two hallways in the back, they found a narrow, rickety stairwell leading up into darkness. Mat took a deep breath, then started up the stairs, holding his ashandarei at the ready. The inn was only two stories high, and the flashes had been coming from the second floor, near the front.

  They entered the second floor, pushing open the door to the acrid scent of burned flesh. The hallways here were of wood, the grain obscured by thick white paint. The floor lay under a deep chestnut carpet. Mat nodded to Talmanes and Thom, and—weapons at the ready—they burst out of the stairwell and into the hallway.

  Immediately, a ball of fire whooshed in their direction. Mat cursed, throwing himself backward and into Talmanes, narrowly avoiding the fire. Thom flattened himself with a gleeman’s agility, getting under the fire. Mat and Talmanes almost tumbled back down the stairs.

  “Bloody ashes!” Mat yelled into the hallway. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  There was silence. Followed, finally, by Joline’s voice. “Cauthon?” she called.

  “Who do you bloody think it is!” he shouted back.

  “I don’t know!” she said. “You came around so quickly, weapons out. Are you trying to get killed?”

  “We’re trying to rescue you!” Mat yelled.


  “Do we look like we need rescuing?” came the response.

  “Well, you’re still here, aren’t you?” Mat called back.

  That was met with silence.

  “Oh, for Light’s sake,” Joline finally called back. “Will you come out here?”

  “You’re not going to throw another fireball at me, are you?” Mat muttered, stepping out into the hallway as Thom climbed to his feet, Talmanes following. He found the three Aes Sedai standing at the head of the wide, handsome stairs at the other end of the hallway. Teslyn and Edesina continued to throw fireballs down at unseen villagers below, their hair wet, their dresses disheveled as if they’d been donned hastily. Joline wore only an enveloping white dressing robe, her pretty face calm, her dark hair slick and wet and hanging down over the front of her right shoulder. The robe was parted slightly at the top, giving a hint of what hid inside. Talmanes whistled softly.

  “She’s not a woman, Talmanes,” Mat whispered warningly. “She’s an Aes Sedai. Don’t think of her as a woman.”

  “I’m trying, Mat,” Talmanes said. “But it’s hard.” He hesitated, then added, “Burn me.”

  “Be careful or she will,” Mat said, tugging his hat down slightly in the front. “In fact, she nearly did that just a moment ago.”

  Talmanes sighed, and the three of them crossed the hallway to the women. Joline’s two Warders and the three Redarms, who had their weapons out, stood just inside the bathing chamber. A dozen or so servants were tied up in the corner: a pair of young girls—probably bathing attendants—and several men in vests and trousers. Apparently Joline’s dress had been cut to strips and used for bonds. The silk would work far better than wool towels. Near the top of the stairs, just below the Aes Sedai, Mat could barely make out a cluster of corpses that had fallen to swords, not fire.

  Joline eyed Mat as he approached, a look implying that she considered all this to be his fault somehow. She folded her arms, closing up the top of the robe, though he wasn’t sure if that was because of Talmanes’ gawking or if the move was coincidental.

  “We need to move,” Mat told the women. “The whole city has gone mad.”

  “We can’t go,” Joline said. “Not and leave those servants to the mob. Besides, we need to find Master Tobrad and make certain he is safe.”

  “Master Tobrad is the innkeeper?” Mat asked. A fireball whooshed down the stairs.

  “Yes,” Joline said.

  “Too late,” Mat said. “His brains are already decorating the walls downstairs. Look, like I said, the entire village is crazy. Those servants tried to kill you, didn’t they?”

  Joline hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Leave them,” Mat said. “We can’t do anything for them.”

  “But if we wait until dawn . . .” Joline said hesitantly.

  “And what?” Mat said. “Burn to ash every person who tries to climb those stairs? You’re making a ruckus here, and it’s drawing more and more people. You’re going to have to kill them all to stop them.”

  Joline glanced at the other two women.

  “Look,” Mat said. “I have a wounded Redarm down below, and I intend to get him out of this alive. You can’t do any good for these people here. I suspect the men had to kill that group at the top of the stairs before you all felt threatened enough to use the Power. You know how determined they are.”

  “All right,” Joline said. “I’ll come. But we’re bringing the two serving girls. Blaeric and Fen can carry them.”

  Mat sighed—he’d have liked the Warders’ blades free to help in case they ran into trouble—but said nothing more. He nodded to Talmanes and Thom, and waited impatiently as the Warders picked up the two bound serving girls and slung them over shoulders. After that, the whole group hustled back down the servants’ stairwell, Talmanes leading and Mat and the Redarms at the rear. He could hear screams that sounded half angry, half joyous as the villagers at the base of the stairs realized no more fire would fall. There were thumps and shouts, followed by doors opening, and Mat cringed, imagining the other servants—left tied up in the bathing chamber—falling to the crowd.

  Mat and the others burst out into the backyard of the inn, only to find Delarn on the ground beside Pips. Harnan knelt beside him, and the bearded soldier looked up with anxiety. “Mat!” he said. “He fell from the saddle. I—”

  Edesina cut him off, rushing over and kneeling beside Delarn. She closed her eyes, and Mat felt a chill from his medallion. It made him shiver as he imagined the One Power leaking out of her and into the man. That was almost as bad as dying, bloody ashes but it was! He gripped the medallion beneath his shirt.

  Delarn stiffened, but then gasped, eyes fluttering open.

  “It is done,” Edesina said, standing up. “He will be weak from the Healing, but I reached him in time.”

  Harnan had gathered and saddled all of their horses, Light bless him. Good man. The women mounted, and spared several glances over their shoulders at the inn.

  “It’s as if the darkness itself intoxicates them,” Thom said while Mat helped Delarn into his saddle. “As if Light itself has forsaken them, leaving them only to the Shadow. . . .”

  “Nothing we can do,” Mat said, pulling himself into his saddle behind Delarn. The soldier was too weak to ride on his own, after that Healing. Mat eyed the serving girls that the Warders had slung over the fronts of their horses. They struggled against their bonds, hate in their eyes. He turned and nodded to Talmanes, who had affixed the lantern to a saddle pole. The Cairhienin opened the shield, bathing the inn’s stableyard in light. A path led northward, out of the yard into the dark. Away from the army, but also directly out of the village, toward the hills. That was good enough for Mat.

  “Ride,” he said, kicking Pips into motion. The group fell in beside him.

  “I told you we should leave,” Talmanes noted, looking over his shoulder, riding at Mat’s left. “But you had to stay for one more toss.”

  Mat didn’t look back. “Not my fault, Talmanes. How was I to know that staying would cause them all to start tearing each other’s throats out?”

  “What?” Talmanes asked, glancing at him. “Isn’t this usually how people react when you tell them you’re going to spend the night?”

  Mat rolled his eyes, but didn’t feel much like laughing as he led the group out of the village.

  Hours later, Mat sat on a rock outcropping on a dark hillside, looking down at Hinderstap. The village was dark. Not a light burned. It was impossible to tell what was going on, but still he watched. How could a man sleep, after what they’d been through?

  Well, the soldiers did sleep. He didn’t blame Delarn. An Aes Sedai Healing could drain a man. Mat had felt that icy chill himself on occasion, and he didn’t intend to repeat the experience. Talmanes and the other Redarms hadn’t the excuse of a Healing, but they were soldiers. Soldiers learned to sleep when they could, and the night’s experience didn’t seem to have disturbed them nearly as much as it had Mat. Oh, they’d been worried while in the thick of it, but now it was just another battle passed. Another battle survived. That had led stout Harnan to joking and smiling as they bedded down.

  Not Mat. There was an odd wrongness about the entire experience. Was the curfew intended to keep this from happening, somehow? Had Mat, by staying, caused all of these deaths? Blood and bloody ashes. Did no place in the world make sense anymore?

  “Mat, lad,” Thom said, joining him, walking with his familiar limp. He’d had a fractured arm, though he hadn’t mentioned it until Edesina had noticed him flinching and insisted on Healing him. “You should sleep.” Now that the moon had risen—hidden behind the clouds—there was enough light for Mat to see Thom’s concern.

  The group had stopped in a small hollow off one side of the trail. It gave a good view back toward the village, and—more importantly—it overlooked the path that Mat and the others had used to escape. The hollow lay on a steep hillside, the only approach from below. One person on watch could keep a good eye out for anyo
ne trying to sneak into the camp.

  The Aes Sedai had bedded down near the back of the hollow, though Mat didn’t think they were actually sleeping. Joline’s Warders had thought to bring bedrolls, just in case. Warders were like that. Mat’s men only had their cloaks, but that hadn’t deterred them from sleeping. Talmanes was even snoring softly, despite the spring chill. Mat had forbidden a fire. It wasn’t so cold that they needed one, and it would just signal anyone looking for them.

  “I’m fine, Thom,” Mat said, making room on his rock as the gleeman settled down. “You’re the one who should get some sleep.”

  Thom shook his head. “One nice thing I’ve noticed about getting older is that your body doesn’t seem to need its sleep as much anymore. Dying doesn’t take as much energy as growing, I guess.”

  “Don’t start that again,” Mat said. “Do I need to remind you about how you hauled my skinny backside out of trouble back there? What was that you were worried about earlier? That I didn’t need you anymore? If you hadn’t been with me today, if you hadn’t come looking for me, I’d be dead in that village. Delarn too.”

  Thom grinned, eyes bright in the moonlight. “All right, Mat,” he said. “No more. I promise.”

  Mat nodded. The two of them sat for a time on their rock, looking out at the city. “It’s not going to leave me alone, Thom,” Mat finally said.

  “What?”

  “All of this,” Mat said tiredly. “The bloody Dark One and his spawn. They’ve been chasing me since that night in the Two Rivers, and nothing has stopped them.”

  “You think this was him?”

  “What else could it have been?” Mat asked. “Quiet village folk, turning into violent madmen? It’s the Dark One’s own work, and you know it.”

  Thom was silent. “Yes,” he finally said. “I suppose it is at that.”

  “They’re still coming for me,” Mat said angrily. “That bloody gholam is out there, I know it is, but that’s just part of it. Myrddraal and Darkfriends, monsters and ghosts. Chasing me and hunting me. I’ve stumbled from one disaster to another, barely keeping my neck above water, ever since this began. I keep saying I just need to find a hole somewhere to dice and drink, but that won’t stop it. Nothing will.”