He was aware of faces turned up to him as he toppled from his saddle, mouths moving, hands reaching to grab him, cushion his fall. “Moiraine!” Lan shouted, voice hollow in Rand’s ears. “He is bleeding badly!” Sulin had his head cradled in her arms. “Hold on, Rand al’Thor,” she said urgently. “Hold on.” Asmodean said nothing, but his face was bleak, and Rand felt a trickle of saidin flowing into him from the man. Darkness came.
