The Gathering Storm

"Are you coming, then?" Rand asked, looking surprised.

She flushed. What if things go as poorly with Graendal as they did with SemirhageP What if I become a tool against him again?

"Yes," she said, just to prove to herself that she wasn't giving up. "Of course I'm coming. Don't think you can leave me behind!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said flatly. "Come."

She'd expected more of an argument.

From the night stand he picked up the statuette of a man holding aloft a globe. He turned the ter'angreal in his hand, inspecting it, then looked up at Min, as if in challenge. She said nothing.

He tucked the statuette into the oversized pocket of his coat, then strode from the room, ancient, Power-forged sword belted to his waist.

Min hurried after Rand. He glanced at the pair of Maidens guarding the door. "I go to battle," he said to them. "Bring no more than twenty."

The Maidens exchanged a brief moment of handtalk; then one loped ahead and the other tailed Rand as he marched down the hallway. Min hurried up beside him, heart thumping, her boots loud on the floorboards. He had rushed off like this to fight Forsaken before, but usually he took more time to plan. He'd maneuvered Sammael for months before striking at II-lian. He'd had barely a single day to decide what do with Graendal!

Min checked her knives, making certain they were secure in her sleeves, but it was just a nervous habit. Rand reached the end of the hallway, then strode down the stairs, his face still calm, his step quick but not hurried. Yet he seemed like a thunderstorm, contained and wrapped up, somehow bound and channeled toward a single goal. How she wished he'd just explode and lose his temper, the way he used to! He'd exasperated her then, but he'd never frightened her. Not as he did now, with those icy eyes she couldn't read, that aura of danger. Since the incident with Semirhage, he spoke of doing "whatever he had to" regardless of cost, and she knew that he must seethe at having failed to convince the Seanchan to ally with him. What would that combination of failure and determination lead him to do?

eds oi to'raken milled in the pens behind, walked by their handlers, who were preparing them for the flight to come. Already, a flock of raken circled above, graceful.

Fortuona looked down at the soldier before her, laying her fingers on his forehead, where she had kissed him. "May your death bring victory," she said softly, speaking the ritual words. "May your knife draw blood. May your children sing your praises until the final dawn."

He bowed his head further. Like the four others in the row, he wore black leather. Three knives hung from his belt, and he had no cloak or helm. He was a small man—all members of the Fists of Heaven were small and compact, and over half in this group were women. Weight was always an issue for those facing missions using to'raken. In a raid, two small, well-trained soldiers were preferable to one lumbering hulk in heavy armor.

It was early evening, the sun just setting. Lieutenant-General Yulan— who would lead the strike force personally—felt it best to take flight late in the day. Their assault would begin in darkness, shrouding it from those who might be watching the horizon in Ebou Dar. Once, the caution would have been unnecessary. What matter if people in Ebou Dar saw hundreds oi to'raken take to the skies? News could never travel as quickly as raken wings.

But their enemies could travel far more quickly than they should be able to. Be it ter'angreal, weave or something else that gave the power, it was a distinct danger. Better to use all stealth. The flight to Tar Valon would take several days.

Fortuona moved to the next soldier in the line of five. The woman's black hair was braided. Fortuona kissed her on the forehead, saying the same ritual words. These five were Bloodknives. The pure black stone ring each one wore was a specialized ter'angreal that would grant them strength and speed, and would shroud them in darkness, allowing them to blend into shadows.

The incredible abilities came at a cost, however, for the rings leeched life from their hosts, killing them in a matter of days. Removing the ring would slow that process slightly, but once activated—done by touching a drop of one's own blood to the stone ring while wearing it—the process was irreversible.

These five would not return. They would stay behind, whatever the results of the raid, to kill as many marath'damane as they could. It was a terrible waste—those damane should be leashed—but better to kill them than leave them in the hands of the Dragon Reborn.

Fortuona moved to the next soldier in the short line, giving him the kiss and the blessing.

So much had changed in the days since her meeting with the Dragon Reborn. Her new name was only one of the manifestations. Now even the High Blood often prostrated themselves before her. Her so'jhin— Selucia included—had shaved the hair from their heads. From now on, they would leave the right side of their heads shaved and grow hair down the left side, braiding it as it grew. For now, they wore caps on the left.

The common people walked more confidently, more proudly. They had an empress again. With all that was wrong in the world, this one thing was right again.

Fortuona kissed the last of the five Bloodknives, speaking the words condemning them to death, but also to heroism. She stepped back, Selucia standing at her side. General Yulan came forward and bowed himself low. "Let it be known by the Empress, may she live forever, that we shall not fail her."

"It is known," Selucia said. "Light follow you. Know that Her Majesty, may she live forever, saw a new spring rose drop three petals in the garden today. The omen of your victory has been given. Fulfill it, General, and your reward shall be great."

Yulan stood, saluting, fist to breast, metal snapping against metal. He led the soldiers to the to'raken pens, the five Bloodknives first. Within moments, the first creature ran down a long pasture outside the back of the pen, marked with poles and streamers, then launched itself into the air. Others followed, a fleet, more than Fortuona had ever seen in the sky at once. As the final light of sunset died, they struck northward.

Raken and to'raken were not normally used in this manner. Most raids would be accomplished by dropping the soldiers off at a staging point, where the to'raken would wait while the soldiers attacked and returned. But this raid was too vital. Yulan's plan called for a more daring assault, the likes of which had rarely been contemplated. To'raken with damane and sul'dam on their backs, attacking from the air. It could be the beginning of a bold new tactic. Or it could lead to a disaster.

"We have changed everything," Fortuona said softly. "General Gal-gan is wrong; this will not give the Dragon Reborn a worse bargaining position. It will turn him against us."

"And was he not against us before?" Selucia asked.

"No," Fortuona said. "We were against him."

"And there is a difference?"

"Yes," Fortuona said, watching the cloud of to'raken, just barely visible in the sky. "There is. I fear we shall soon see just how big a difference that is."