When the dead walked and the shadow tainted the waking world with living nightmares, there could be no surer sign that Tarmon Gai'don approached. Whether that be in Andor, Seanchan, or a flaming prison in the sky, Mat knew what the signs meant. When the dreams started to hurt people, he knew Rand had to be out there somewhere, and knowing their bloody ta'veren destiny, Perrin too.
Before long, it seemed like the only place that were safe was his room. But burn him if he were going to hide in there until Rand defeated the Dark One. He couldn't, even if he wanted to. He wasn't lucky enough to have food drop in on his lap. All he really needed to do was ignore the ghosts and where they led him, and he'd stay out of trouble. Still, it'd been good to be in real clothing again, where he could fit all his knives.
Until now. The dice were thundering in his head, but he didn't need them there to know why. The bloody trollocs charging through the halls made it clear enough all on their own. There must have been a Waygate somewhere on this Light-forsaken ship.
Then again, that wasn't the problem. Between the Ashandarei and his knives, the trollocs were only hulking, smelling obstacles. The people on this ship would be able to take care of them, and maybe whatever Fades came with. The problem was that the medallion was freezing against his skin.
"Matrim Cauthon."
Instinct drove him to spin, Ashandarei poised, but he knew that voice before he turned. "You. Are not real."
Bodewhin--the image of Bodewhin--gave no indication he spoke at all, instead she held out her hand toward him. The flash of memory was so brief, he barely registered it, but the lesson remained. He spun a bit too quickly for his hip's liking, and threw himself to the ground only a moment before the ship's tentacles--propelled by the flaming One Power--crashed together where he'd been standing only a moment before.
"So at least someone has an idea," spoke a voice, and the demon girl stood behind the man. This dream was strange to her, she had to admit, but at the same time she really didn't care either. She was a demon, and that meant she could do nothing but be practical when it came to this: besides, hadn't she and the others released enough people anyway? The tentacles she held at bay with her own power, which she was annoyed to use in the first place: she had to preserve her strength.
"It ISN'T real," Alessa said. "If it were, we might all be in a bit of trouble. Now come on: there's still much we have to do about the Nightmare King."
Leon grabbed Mat, and started to pull him to his feet.
"Let's go, Mr. Cauthon." Yes, Leon knows your name, Mat. He knows the name of everyone on board, so don't let it freak you out. "We have bigger problems."
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Before long, it seemed like the only place that were safe was his room. But burn him if he were going to hide in there until Rand defeated the Dark One. He couldn't, even if he wanted to. He wasn't lucky enough to have food drop in on his lap. All he really needed to do was ignore the ghosts and where they led him, and he'd stay out of trouble. Still, it'd been good to be in real clothing again, where he could fit all his knives.
Until now. The dice were thundering in his head, but he didn't need them there to know why. The bloody trollocs charging through the halls made it clear enough all on their own. There must have been a Waygate somewhere on this Light-forsaken ship.
Then again, that wasn't the problem. Between the Ashandarei and his knives, the trollocs were only hulking, smelling obstacles. The people on this ship would be able to take care of them, and maybe whatever Fades came with. The problem was that the medallion was freezing against his skin.
"Matrim Cauthon."
Instinct drove him to spin, Ashandarei poised, but he knew that voice before he turned. "You. Are not real."
Bodewhin--the image of Bodewhin--gave no indication he spoke at all, instead she held out her hand toward him. The flash of memory was so brief, he barely registered it, but the lesson remained. He spun a bit too quickly for his hip's liking, and threw himself to the ground only a moment before the ship's tentacles--propelled by the flaming One Power--crashed together where he'd been standing only a moment before.
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"It ISN'T real," Alessa said. "If it were, we might all be in a bit of trouble. Now come on: there's still much we have to do about the Nightmare King."
no subject
"Let's go, Mr. Cauthon." Yes, Leon knows your name, Mat. He knows the name of everyone on board, so don't let it freak you out. "We have bigger problems."