00 New Spring: Prequel by Robert Jordan

Author:Robert Jordan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy - Epic, Epic, Rand al'Thor (Fictitious character), Fantasy fiction, Fiction - Fantasy, Fiction, Fantasy, Fantasy - Series, General
ISBN: 9780765306296
Publisher: St Martins Pr
Published: 2004-10-15T07:00:00+00:00

There was still considerable snow close to the mountains that rose up ahead of Lan, and the trampled tracks of a large body of men lay clear beneath the afternoon sun, leading straight across the hills toward the cloud-capped heights that reared higher and higher the deeper you looked. He raised his looking glass, but he could discern no movement ahead. The Aiel must already be into the mountains. Cat Dancer stamped a hoof impatiently.

"Are those the Spine of the World?" Rakim called in that rasping voice. "Impressive, but somehow I thought they'd be taller."

"That's Kinslayer's Dagger," a well-traveled Arafellin laughed. "Call them the foothills to the Spine and you won't be far wrong."

"Why are we just standing here?" Caniedrin demanded, low-voiced enough not be called down for it but loud enough for Lan to hear. Caniedrin liked to press the edges where he could.

Bukama relieved him of the necessity to answer. "Only fools try fighting Aiel in mountains," he said loudly. Twisting toward Lan in his saddle, he lowered his own voice to a near whisper, and the creases of his permanent scowl deepened. "The Light send Pedron Niall doesn't choose now to paint his face." Niall, Lord Captain-Commander of the Children of the Light, had the command today.

"He won't," Lan said simply. Only a handful knew war as well as Niall. Which meant that this particular war might very well end this day. He wondered whether it would be called a victory. Sliding the looking glass back into its saddle-case, he found himself looking north. Feeling the pull, an iron filing feeling the lodestone. It was almost pain, after so long. Some wars could not be won, yet they still must be fought.

Studying his face, Bukama shook his head. "And only a fool jumps from one war straight into another." He did not bother to speak softly, and several Domani in Lan's sight gave him odd looks, clearly wondering what Bukama was talking about. No Borderlander needed to wonder. They knew who he was.

"A month or two will rest me, Bukama." That was how long it would take to ride home. A month, with luck.

"A year, Lan. Just one year. Oh, all right. Eight months." Bukama made that sound a great concession. Perhaps he felt tired? He had always seemed made of iron, but he was no longer young.

"Four months," Lan conceded. He had borne waiting two years; he could bear another four months. And if Bukama still felt weary then That was a chasm he would have to cross when he came to it.

As it happened, Niall had not chosen to become a fool, which was very well indeed, given that above half the army had already departed in the belief the victory had been won days ago if not when the Aiel first began their retreat. And they were calling it a great victory. At least, those who had not fought were, the hangers-on and bystanders, and the historians already writing as if they knew everything. Lan was willing to let them.

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