A Memory of Light (Wheel of Time, #14)

by Robert Jordan

And the Shadow fell upon the Land, and the World was riven stone from stone. The oceans fled, and the mountains were swallowed up, and the nations were scattered to the eight corners of the World. The moon was as blood, and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead. All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the Shadow and the Breaking of the World. And him they named Dragon. —from Aleth nin Taerin alta Camora, The Breaking of the World. Author unknown, the Fourth Age.

“All men are ignorant, Aes Sedai,” Androl said. “The topics of our ignorance may change, but the nature of the world is that no man may know everything.”

“Being polite to a person is not a sign of respect for them, Pevara Sedai,” Emarin said. “It is merely a sign of a good upbringing and a balanced nature.”

“I’ve found the secret to defeating them,” Talmanes whispered. “You just have to be dead already.”

“Oh, that. I’m dying, unfortunately. Terribly tragic. You wouldn’t happen to have any brandy, would you?”

“Just as each of us, upon being Chosen, discarded what we were and the names men called us. From this moment on, this man shall be known only as M’Hael. One of the Chosen.”

Too many of our number threw themselves into contests with al’Thor when he was presumed to be weak. M’Hael instead earned Lews Therin’s trust, then took charge of the training of his weapons. He has been raising a new generation of Dreadlords to the Shadow’s cause.

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

He looked about. This didn’t feel like Tel’aran’rhiod, not completely. The dead field extended into the distance on all sides, presumably into infinity. This wasn’t the true World of Dreams; it was a dreamshard, a world created by a powerful Dreamer or dreamwalker.

Rand kept still. His emotions regarding Lanfear—or whatever she called herself now—were complicated. Lews Therin had despised her, but Rand had known her primarily as Selene, and had been fond of her—until, at least, she tried to kill Egwene and Aviendha.

“You hate yourself,” Rand whispered. “I can feel it in you, Elan. Once you served him for power; now you do it because his victory—and an end to all things—is the only release you’ll ever know. You’d rather not exist than continue to be you. You must know that he will not release you. Not ever. Not you.”

He closed his eyes and sent himself away, to sleep for the short time before he had to rise. Rise, and save the world. If he could.

And it shall come to pass that what men made shall be shattered,’” Moiraine whispered. “‘The Shadow shall lie across the Pattern of the Age, and the Dark One shall once more lay his hand upon the world of man. Women shall weep and men quail as the nations of the earth are rent like rotting cloth. Neither shall anything stand nor abide.’”

Yet one shall be born to face the Shadow,’” Moiraine said more loudly. “‘Born once more as he was born before and shall be born again, time without end! The Dragon shall be Reborn, and there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth at his rebirth. In sackcloth and ashes shall he clothe the people, and he shall break the world again by his coming, tearing apart all ties that bind! “‘Like the unfettered dawn shall he blind us, and burn us, yet shall the Dragon Reborn confront the Shadow at the Last Battle, and his blood shall give us the Light. Let tears flow, O ye people of the world. Weep for your salvation!’”

“‘He shall slay his people with the sword of peace,’” Moiraine said, “‘and destroy them with the leaf.’”

‘The unstained tower breaks and bends knee to the forgotten sign…’”

“‘There can be no health in us, nor any good thing grow,’” Moiraine quoted, “‘for the land is one with the Dragon Reborn, and he one with the land. Soul of fire, heart of stone.’” She looked to Gregorin. “‘In pride he conquers, forcing the proud to yield.’” To the Borderlanders. “‘He calls upon the mountains to kneel…’” To the Sea Folk. “‘… and the seas to give way.’” To Perrin, then Berelain. “‘… and the very skies to bow.’” To Darlin. “‘Pray that the heart of stone remembers tears…’” Then, finally, to Elayne. “‘… and the soul of fire, love.’ You cannot fight this. None of you can.

“The Pattern is balance. It is not good nor evil, not wisdom nor foolishness. To the Pattern, these things matter not, yet it will find balance. The last Age ended with a Breaking, and so the next one will begin with peace—even if it must be s...

“You still insist that you must break the seals?” Egwene said. “Do not worry, Egwene,” Moiraine said, smiling. “He is not going to break the seals.” Rand’s face darkened. Egwene smiled. “You are going to break them,” Moiraine said to Egwene.

I do have a request for you, however. There is a dear friend who needs us…”

My arm will be the sword …

My breast itself a shield …

To defend the Seven Towers …

To hold back the darkness …

I will stand when all others fall.

Lan looked at the battle he’d never thought to win, seeing a last stand instead become a promising fight, and couldn’t help himself. He didn’t just smile, he laughed.

“Is this not what we have trained for?” Lan shouted. “Is this not our purpose, our very lives? This war is not a thing to mourn. Other men may have been lax, but we have not been. We are prepared, and so this is a time of glory. “Let there be laughter! Let there be joy! Let us cheer the fallen and drink to our forefathers, who taught us well. If you die on the morrow, awaiting your rebirth, be proud. The Last Battle is upon us, and we are ready!”

“I will not mourn! Mourning is for those who regret, and I do not regret what we do here! Bulen could not have died a better death. I do not cry for him, I cheer!”

He laid Bulen down, then knelt and gently took the hadori from Bulen’s head. Lan would carry it into battle—so that Bulen could continue to fight—then return it to the body when the battle was through. An old Malkieri tradition. “You did well, Bulen,” Lan said softly. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

The bare rock ground near Lan split. He jumped back in alarm as the shaking continued, watching tiny rents appear in the rock—hairline cracks. There was something profoundly wrong about the cracks. They were too dark, too deep. Though the area was still shaking, he stepped up, looking at the tiny cracks, trying to make them out in detail through the rumbling earthquake. They seemed to be cracks into nothingness. They drew the light in, sucked it away. It was as if he was looking at fractures in the nature of reality itself. The quakes subsided. The darkness within the cracks lingered for a few breaths, then faded away, the hairline fractures becoming just ordinary breaks in stone. Wary, Lan knelt down, inspecting them closely. Had he seen what he’d thought? What did it mean?

“Duty is heavier than a mountain, Dai Shan.”

“Some men,” Agelmar said, “are destined to die, and they fear it. Others are destined to live, and to lead, and they find it a burden.

“By the Light and my hope for salvation and rebirth,” Leilwin said, “I vow to serve you and protect you, Amyrlin, ruler of the White Tower. By the Crystal Throne and the blood of the Empress, I bind myself to you, to do as commanded in all things, and to put your life before my own. Under the Light, may it be so.”

“But, you see, I get only one side of the coin these days. Someone else is doing the bad. The Dark One injects horrors into the world, causing death, evil, madness. But the Pattern … the Pattern is balance. So it works, through me, to provide the other side. The harder the Dark One works, the more powerful the effect around me becomes.”

But wish and want trip the feet, as Lini says.

“Have a rest, and go have a flaming bath, you son of a shepherd’s boil.”

I don’t like the way this is going. If any boy with a tube of metal can destroy an entire army…”

“Maybe I have less faith in the wisdom of people than you do.”

Why would the soldiers force people to wait in such a long line and give them time to think of a cover story, only to not hear it out? That could offend a man.

Petra was not a tall man, but he was so wide, an entire army could have taken shade in his shadow.

No, a good tavern was worn and used, like good boots. It was also sturdy, again like good boots. So long as the ale did not taste like good boots, you would have a winner.

the truth that, down deep, it was not Lews Therin who made up Rand’s core. It was the sheepherder, raised by Tam. His lives played out in moments, his memories and feelings exposed.

“Being in charge isn’t always about telling people what to do. Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to step out of the way of people who know what they’re doing.”

“It wasn’t Trollocs who killed your family.”

This isn’t evil, it’s just incredibly stupid.”

The key to leadership is in the rippling waves. You could not find stillness on a body of water if there was turmoil underneath. Likewise, you could not find peace and focus in a group unless the leader himself had peace within.

Let go. Wind blew through across the field, carrying with it the scents of a dying land. Moss, mold, rot. Moss lived. Mold was a living thing. For a tree to rot, life had to progress.

Eventually, he found himself exhausted in the good way—not in the worn-down way he had begun to feel lately. It was the exhaustion of good work done.

Loial, son of Arent son of Halan, had secretly always wanted to be hasty.

“I thought you had grown up while I was away,” Moiraine said. “Only Perrin grew up,” Rand said. “Mat and I have simply learned to pretend to be grown up.” He hesitated. “Mat did not learn it so well.”