Suppressing a small bubble of hope — she could not allow herself that luxury — Moiraine balanced upright a moment on the wagontail, then embraced the True Source and leaped at Lanfear. The Forsaken had an instant's warning, enough to turn before Moiraine struck her, clawing the bracelet away. Face to face, they toppled through the doorframe ter'angreal. White light swallowed everything.
Chapter 53
(Flame of Tar Valon)
Fading Words
In the depths of a shrinking Void, Rand saw Moiraine hurtle seemingly out of nowhere to grapple with Lanfear. The attacks on him ceased as the two women plunged through the doorframe ter'angreal in a flash of white light that did not end; it filled the subtly twisted redstone rectangle as though trying to flood through and striking some invisible barrier. Lightnings arched silver and blue around the ter'angreal, more and more violently; rasping buzzes crackled through the air.
Rand staggered to his feet. The pain was not gone really, but the pressure was, bringing promise that the pain would go. His eyes could not leave the ter'angreal. Moiraine. Her name hung in his head, sliding across the Void.
Lan lurched by him, fixed on the wagon, leaning as if only by moving forward could he stop from falling.
More than standing was beyond Rand for the moment. He channeled, caught the Warder in flows of Air. “You... You can't do anything, Lan. You can't go after her.”
“I know,” Lan said hopelessly. Held in midstep, he did not struggle, only stared at the ter'angreal that had swallowed Moiraine. “The Light send me peace, I know.”
The wagon itself had caught fire now. Rand tried to suppress the flames, but as soon as he drew the heat from one blaze the lightnings ignited another. The doorframe itself was beginning to smoke, though it was stone, a white, acrid smoke that gathered thickly under the gray dome. Even a whiff burned Rand's nostrils and made him cough; his skin prickled and stung where the smoke brushed. Hastily he untied the weave of the dome, dispelled it rather than wait for it to dissipate, and wove around the wagon a tall chimney of Air that gleamed like glass to carry the fumes high and away. Only then did he release Lan. He would not have put it past the man to follow Moiraine anyway if he could have reached the wagon. It was all in flames now, the redstone doorway as well, melting as if it were wax, but for a Warder that might not matter.
“She is gone. I cannot feel her presence.” The words sounded ripped out of Lan's chest. He turned and began walking down the line of wagons without a backward glance.
Following the Warder with his eyes, Rand saw Aviendha on her knees, holding Egwene. Releasing saidin, he began to run down the quay. Physical pain that had been distant crashed home, but he ran, however awkwardly. Asmodean was there, too, looking around as if he expected Lanfear to leap out from behind a wagon or a toppled graincart. And Mat, squatting with his spear propped across his shoulder, fanning Egwene with his hat.
Rand skidded to a halt. “Is she...?”
“I don't know,” Mat said miserably.
“She still breathes.” Aviendha sounded uncertain how long that would continue, but Egwene's eyes fluttered open as Amys and Bair pushed roughly past Rand with Melaine and Sorilea. The Wise Ones knelt clustered around the younger women, murmuring to themselves and each other as they examined Egwene.
“I feel...” Egwene began weakly, and stopped to swallow. Her face was bloodless pale. “I... hurt.” A tear leaked from one eye.
“Of course you do,” Sorilea said briskly. “That is what happens when you let yourself be caught in a man's schemes.”
“She cannot go with you, Rand al'Thor.” Melaine's sunhaired beauty was openly angry, but she was not looking at him; it could have been anger at him or anger at what had happened.
“I... will be right as wellwater... with a little rest,” Egwene whispered.
Bair dampened a cloth from a waterskin and laid it across Egwene's forehead. “You will be right with a great deal of rest. I fear you will not be meeting Nynaeve and Elayne tonight. You will not go near Tel'aran'rhiod for some days, until you are stronger again. Do not give me that stubborn look, girl. We will watch your dreams to make sure, if need be, and give your care to Sorilea if you so much as think of disobeying.”
“You will not disobey me more than once, Aes Sedai or not,” Sorilea said, but with a touch of sympathy at odds with her leatheryfaced grimness. Frustration was plain in Egwene's face.
“I, at least, am well enough to do what must be done,” Aviendha said. In truth, she looked not much less haggard than Egwene, but she managed a defiant stare at Rand, plainly expecting argument. Her defiance faded somewhat when she realized the four Wise Ones were looking at her. “I am,” she muttered.
“Of course,” Rand said hollowly.
“I am,” she insisted. To him; she carefully avoided meeting the Wise Ones' gaze. “Lanfear had me a moment less than she did Egwene. That was enough to make the difference between us. I have toh to you, Rand al'Thor. I do not think we would have survived many moments more. She was very strong.” Her eyes darted down to the burning wagon. Fierce flames had already reduced it to a shapeless charred pile inside the glassy chimney; the redstone ter'angreal was no longer visible at all. “I did not see all that happened.”
“They are... Rand cleared his throat. ”They are both gone. Lanfear is dead. And so is Moiraine." Egwene began to cry, sobs shaking her in Aviendha's clasp. Aviendha put her head down on the other woman's shoulder as if she, too, might weep.
“You are a fool, Rand al'Thor,” Amys said, standing. That surprisingly youthful face beneath her headscarf and white hair was stone hard. “About this and many other things, you are a fool.”
He turned away from the accusation in her eyes. Moiraine was dead. Dead because he could not bring himself to kill one of the Forsaken. He did not know whether he wanted to cry or laugh wildly; if he did either, he did not think he would be able to stop.
The dockside that had been emptying when he made the dome was filled again, though few came nearer than where that misty gray wall had stood. Wise Ones moved about aiding the burned, comforting the dying, assisted by whiterobed gai'shain and men in the cadin'sor. Moans and cries stabbed at him. He had not been quick enough. Moiraine dead; no Healing for even the worst injured. Because he... I could not. The L
