“Those aren’t wolves,” Mat said grimly. The Wild Hunt had come to Thakan’dar.
Maybe they and Mashadar would destroy one another? Was that too much to hope for? With the dice tumbling in his head, Mat was not going to bet on it. Rand’s forces—what was left of the Aiel, Domani, Dragonsworn and Tairen soldiers who had come here—would be crushed by the Darkhounds. If they survived, Mashadar would take them. They could not fight either one.
That voice in there… It wasn’t just Mashadar, the mindless mist. Fain was here somewhere, too. And the dagger.
Shayol Ghul loomed above. High in the air, clouds churned. Surprisingly, some white thunderheads had rolled in from the south, colliding with the black as they spun together. Actually, those two together looked an awful lot like the—
The to’raken turned and winged about, then swooped down lower, maybe only a hundred feet off the ground.
“Be careful!” Mat hollered, holding on to his hat. “Are you bloody trying to kill us!”
“Apologies, my Prince,” the woman yelled back. “I just need to find a safe place to put you down.”
“A safe place?” Mat said. “Good luck on that.”
“It’s going to be difficult. Dhana is strong, but I—”
A black-fletched arrow grazed the side of Sulaan’s head, loosed from somewhere down below, along with a flight of a dozen others that zipped around Mat, one hitting the wing of the to’raken.
Mat cursed, dropping his hat and reaching for Sulaan as Olver cried out in shock. Sulaan went limp, dropping the reins. Below, a group of red-veiled Aiel prepared another volley.
Mat undid his straps. He leaped—well, more crawled—over Olver and the unconscious woman and grabbed the reins of the panicked to’raken. This could not be too much harder than riding a horse, could it? He pulled as he had seen Sulaan do, turning the to’raken as arrows cut the air behind them, several taking the beast in the wings.
They veered straight toward the rock wall, and Mat found himself on his feet, standing on the saddle and gripping the reins tightly as he tried to keep the wounded beast from bloody killing them all. That turn nearly tossed him free, but he held himself in place with feet wedged and holding the reins even tighter.
The rush of air as they turned caught up Olver’s next words. The creature’s badly wounded wings beat wildly and it screeched wretchedly. Mat was not certain either of them were in control as the beast twisted toward the ground.
They hit the floor of the valley in a heap. Bones cracked—Light, Mat hope
d they belonged to the to’raken—and he found himself tumbling end over end across the broken ground.
He finally came to a rest, flopping over.
He breathed in and out, stunned by it all. “That,” he finally groaned, “is the bloody worst idea I’ve ever had.” He hesitated. “Maybe the second worst.” He had decided to kidnap Tuon, after all.
He stumbled to his feet, and his legs still seemed to work. He did not limp too badly as he ran to the twitching to’raken. “Olver? Olver!”
He found the boy still tied in the saddle, blinking and shaking his head to clear it. “Mat,” Olver said, “next time I think you should let me fly it. I don’t think you did a very good job.”
“If there is a next time,” Mat said, “I’ll eat a whole bag of Tar Valon gold.” He yanked free the ties holding his ashandarei and Olver’s Horn, then handed the instrument to the boy. He reached for the pack with Rand’s banner, which he’d carried tied at his waist, but it was gone.
Panicked, Mat looked about. “The banner!
I dropped the bloody banner!” Olver smiled, looking up at the sign made by the swirling clouds. “It will be fine—we’re beneath his banner already,” he said, then lifted the Horn and blew a beautiful note.
CHAPTER
46
To Awaken
Rand broke free from the darkness and entered the Pattern fully again.
From his watching of the Pattern, he knew that although only minutes had passed here since he’d entered, in the valley outside this cavern, days had passed, and farther out into the world, it had been much longer.
Rand threw Moridin back from the position they’d held during those tense minutes with blades locked. Still full of the One Power, so sweet, Rand whipped the blade of Callandor at his old friend.
Moridin got his sword up in time to block, but only barely. He growled, pulling a knife from his belt and stepping back into a knife-and-sword stance.