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One of the first rules he’d learned in life was to never fight a man when you had an equal chance of losing.
DEATH CANNOT KEEP ME AT BAY, AND IT CANNOT RULE ME. IT COMES DOWN TO THIS, FATHER OF LIES. WHEN HAVE YOU INSPIRED A PERSON TO GIVE THEIR LIFE FOR YOU? NOT FOR THE PROMISES YOU GIVE, NOT FOR THE RICHES THEY SEEK OR THE POSITIONS THEY WOULD HOLD, BUT FOR YOU. HAS IT EVER HAPPENED?
BRING MY DEATH, SHAI’TAN, Rand growled, throwing himself into the blackness. FOR I BRING YOURS!
Shaisam rolled onto the battlefield at Thakan’dar.
Right now, Shaisam was frail. This mortal form that walked at the center of his mind … he was bound to it. Fain, it had been. Padan Fain.
“There’s an odd thing about diseases I once heard, Fain,” Matrim Cauthon whispered. “Once you catch a disease and survive, you can’t get it again.”
Tied to this pitiful mortal form, Mordeth screamed. Padan Fain howled, and felt his flesh melting from his bones. The mists trembled, began to swirl and shake. Together they died.
They fed it to him. Power. Saidar from the women. The True Power from Moridin. Saidin from Rand.
So it was that Rand used the Dark One’s own essence, channeled in its full strength. He held the Dark One tightly, like a dove in the grip of a hawk. And light exploded from him.
“Always.”
The talent. Not the curse. The talent.
“Do it,” Gabrelle said. “Do it, Sealbreaker.”
“Go,” Perrin whispered. “Do what you must do. As always, I will watch your back.”
The wind blew southward, through knotted forests, over shimmering plains and toward lands unexplored. This wind, it was not the ending. There are no endings, and never will be endings, to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was an ending.
He came like the wind, like the wind touched everything, and like the wind was gone. —from The Dragon Reborn. By Loial, son of Arent son of Halan, the Fourth Age.
