Chapter Text
Moiraine sat on the frozen ground, her legs folded under her, exhausted from a long night of channeling. She focused on her breathing, attempting to command her erratically beating heart to return to some semblance of a steady rhythm. Around her, she heard cries and whimpers - of pain, of desolation, of loss. It was an all-encompassing loss of all that was dear, true, and constant. She leaned her head back, briefly allowing it to touch the cold stones of what remained of someone’s house. Family, home, stability, the entire order to things. Upended. Gone. A celebration of Life and a promise for a better future turned to ash. She had once again been a harbinger of change, change that was not welcome, change that was feared, but change that was inevitable nonetheless.
Underneath her exhaustion she felt the beginnings of another inevitability. The Trolloc blade that pierced her shoulder was tainted. She knew it the moment the serrated metal connected with her body. It was in the wrongness of the contact, in the way the One Power fled from her, the weave coming undone, the strands disappearing from her grasp, falling through her fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass about to run out of time… As she was… about to run out of time.
How long did she have? She knew that Warders could manage such a grievous wound for a few days if their Aes Sedai was only able to extend their life without healing the poison. If she herself was too injured to provide more than the basics of care. Alone, without a Sister to heal her… she would be gone in another day or two at the most, even if she pulled small amounts of vitality from Lan through the bond.
Lan came into her field of vision, tension singing in every line of his body. They were well-matched, she thought. Soldiers fighting the same war, ready to move out and execute the next step of their mission. She watched him as he stalked the square, gingerly picking his way between Trolloc bodies, bending down to remove their badges. It was a ritual born of necessity – it allowed them to account for the number of companies sent against them, to try to understand strategies used by the Eyeless. This time, it appeared, they fought against an exploratory force. She did not need Lan to tell her that the number of badge types was far too high for the number of bodies on the Green. That the much larger force had to be close behind. Injured and exhausted as she was, she would not be able to make much of a difference here, in this village, when the next attack came. These people only had a sliver of hope if she could convince the horde to follow her trail instead.
She shifted position and absentmindedly traced a circle in the ash-marred snow with the tip of her boot. She would be needed soon, she knew, to help burn the Shadowspawn remains, but for now she could use a moment to reflect. She watched Lan begin to haul the monsters away from the Square and was glad to see that others joined him. Men brought wheelbarrows and carts, and slowly the ground was cleared from the unnatural sight.
Only pain and devastation remained.
She was not as skilled with Healing as her Yellow Sisters, but she held her own amongst her fellow Blues. Not that anyone would be interested. The Aes Sedai were seldom asked. The belief that some of her Sisters cultivated was that they demanded a terrible price in return, akin to something of legend.
She watched as the bodies of the dead were brought to the Green, shrouded in sheets, blankets, and coats. Too many had fallen. She knew that the toll could have been far worse had she and Lan left at the first sign of the Trollocs, but she mourned each person nonetheless. They would blame her, of course. Nothing like this had ever happened in a sheltered mountain village. Not until she and her Warder arrived. It would not matter that she was not the cause.
She must have closed her eyes and fallen asleep or lost consciousness briefly, because the next time she looked up, Lan was looming over her, worry all too evident in his eyes. A plea for help passed through the bond between them, a plea he knew she would always answer, even if it cost her a great deal. He hauled her upright, a steadying hand at her elbow, and she noticed that he was not alone. Behind him, eyes wide and determination written on her face, stood the Innkeeper’s daughter. Moiraine tried to remember her name but couldn’t.
The world swam in front of her eyes as she swayed, but she managed to keep standing. Lan’s worry grew, but she sent a gentle assurance through the bond. Not yet. She was not that far gone yet. Surely. The Innkeeper’s daughter’s eyes darted between her and Lan, and Moiraine fought down a wave of pain to give her a small smile and a nod. Healing. Someone was desperate enough to request Healing.
She allowed Lan to lead her across the debris-strewn square, needing to rely on his strength far more than she liked. They followed Egwene, she finally remembered the name, to where a man was reclining, his head tilted back. Next to him, she saw a young man. Rand. At his side he wore a blade he had no right to be in possession of, the heron mark plain to see. She drew a breath and felt Lan’s acknowledgement. She was right after all. This was no ordinary sheepherder.
She shifted her focus to the man beside Rand. Helpful hands propped him up and moved the cloth covering his wound. She knew the moment she laid eyes on it. It was Trolloc poison, the same poison that was working its way toward her heart. Without an Aes Sedai there was no hope for survival.
She exchanged a look with Lan. Of course, he knew. He knew how much Healing took out of her even when she was rested and in full health. Now? How much would it cost to Heal this man? She feared that the better question was how much would it cost not to?
Would Rand, Perrin, Mat, and Egwene follow her if she did not? By the looks of these two, it was not even a question. There would be no discussion at all if she let this man, who was likely Rand’s father or uncle, die while she still drew breath. But if she did Heal, how much strength would be left to her? How far would her will and determination take her before the darkness was too strong and she succumbed to the poison? She knew there was absolutely no hope of meeting a Sister who could Heal her own wound. There was no time.
She felt the grains of Time slipping through her fingertips. The hourglass was nearly empty now, and it was just so terribly unfair. They had hunted for twenty long years. They fought, and suffered, and had done without only to come upon their quarry at the worst possible moment. The irony of it was bitter, and she fought against it.
She shook her head, trying to bring herself back to reality. She realized that she had not moved in some time, and the others were looking at her with worry. She glanced over at Rand, finding distrust, pain, and a desperate hope, the kind of hope that believes beyond the shreds of what is possible.
It was not really a question at all. In the end. In front of her was a life. A life she could make a difference in, even for a time. She did not know what the Pattern had in store for this man, but she was not willing to let him slip away to be woven into another turning of the Wheel as he sat in front of her.
The wound in her shoulder screamed, sending red-hot agony through her arm as she extended it toward the man. The One Power came to her call, but it was as if she was wielding it through a wall of smoke, the weave nearly not coming together until the very last moment. A low moan escaped her, and she felt Lan’s guilt through their bond. Sweeping it aside for the present, she directed the weave toward the wound, felt the poison within it writhe and resist as it was driven out. She could have stopped then, probably should have. Poison removed, the wound would have healed on its own, in time. She pushed through her pain, willing the skin to come together and knit into a newly raised scar instead.
Lan was deeply unhappy about that. As always, he said nothing. They both knew she had to perform a bloody miracle. The poisoned man had to be Healed externally as well as internally for the villagers to believe it was done. More importantly, she needed Rand to believe in her. There was no other option. He was the leader of the group, she was sure of it. If she could not convince him to follow, there would be nothing at all left in this world, nothing that any of them would recognize.
The Dark One must not be allowed to win.