The Great Hunt (The Wheel of Time #2)

by Robert Jordan

Blacksmith, the Swordsman, and the Trickster.

“We have been closeted alone too long already.

WE WILL MEET AGAIN ON TOMAN HEAD. IT IS NEVER OVER, AL’THOR.

“Daughter of the Night, she walks again. The ancient war, she yet fights. Her new lover she seeks, who shall serve her and die, yet serve still. Who shall stand against her coming? The Shining Walls shall kneel. Blood feeds blood. Blood calls blood. Blood is, and blood was, and blood shall ever be. The man who channels stands alone. He gives his friends for sacrifice. Two roads before him, one to death beyond dying, one to life eternal. Which will he choose? Which will he choose? What hand shelters? What hand slays? Blood feeds blood. Blood calls blood. Blood is, and blood was, and blood shall ever be.

The Watchers wait on Toman’s Head. The seed of the Hammer burns the ancient tree. Death shall sow, and summer burn, before the Great Lord comes. Death shall reap, and bodies fail, before the Great Lord comes. Again the seed slays ancient wrong, before the Great Lord comes. Now the Great Lord comes. Now the Great Lord comes. Blood feeds blood. Blood calls blood. Blood is, and blood was, and blood shall ever be. Now the Great Lord comes.”

Isam had been the son of Breyan, wife of Lain Mandragoran, whose attempt to seize the throne of Malkier for her husband had brought the Trolloc hordes crashing down. Breyan and her infant son had both vanished when the Trollocs overran Malkier. And Isam had been blood kin to Lan. Or is blood kin? I must keep this from him, until I know how he will react. Until we are away from the Blight. If he thought Isam were alive. . . .

Well, the sword that could not be broken was shattered in the end, sheepherder, but it fought the Shadow to the last. There is one rule, above all others, for being a man. Whatever comes, face it on your feet.

Time has tied a thousand cords between us.

The Nine Rings. Rand

‘Five ride forth, and four return. Above the watchers shall he proclaim himself, bannered cross the sky in fire. . . .’

“We three are tied together,” Min said, “and we cannot let any man get in the way of that. Not even him.”

“Twice and twice shall he be marked, twice to live, and twice to die. Once the heron, to set his path. Twice the heron, to name him true. Once the Dragon, for remembrance lost. “Twice the Dragon, for the price he must pay.”

“Twice dawns the day when his blood is shed. Once for mourning, once for birth. Red on black, the Dragon’s blood stains the rock of Shayol Ghul. In the Pit of Doom shall his blood free men from the Shadow.”

“I dress the way I like, and I won’t change for a lord, even if he is your brother.”

A man’s ring of heavy gold floated above Nynaeve’s head, and above Elayne’s, a red-hot iron and an axe. They meant trouble, she was sure, but it seemed distant, somewhere in the future. Only for a moment did the reading last, and then all she saw was Elayne and Nynaeve, watching her expectantly.

But men often mistake revenge and killing for justice. They seldom have the stomach for justice.”

Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain. So many duties. Egwene. The Horn. Fain. Mat and his dagger. Why can’t there just be one at a time? I have to take care of all of them. Oh, Light, Egwene!