The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Spine of the World. The wind was not the beginning. THere are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was *a* beginning.
Rand al'Thor was trotting along, his horse underneath him. Aviendha was still spouting some nonsense about Elayne. The Light burn her! He wished that he had Perrin's knack with girls. Or even Mat's. Mat always seemed to get around with the ladies. In the background, one of those wretched Aiel was playing a set of pipes, while some others were dancing merrily. He recognized the tune as "The Weeping Willow," but they called it "The Dance of Death". He reflected on the vast differences in culture that he had discovered on his jouney, how the name of a song could be so indicative of the culture he was passing through, wreaking havoc and turmoil along the way. "Why do they have to play that blasted pipe?" he muttered angrily.
Moiraine suddenly appeared and said,"The will weaves the wind mill, Rand. Tell me your dreams. Only I have anything like the strenghth of mind to unravel them. What are your plans? You cannot possibly be so foolish as to beleive that after you have come this far in your career, you could possibly not need me now. You _are_ a'tavern."
Rand jumped. "Light, woman! Shut up. Get out of my sight."
Perrin just could not understand Faile. It seemed as if she talked a different language. He wished that he had the knack with women that Rand and Mat did. Light, Rand had the daughter-heir of Andor hanging all over him. He never had the sort of problems that Perrin constantly had with Faile. But Light, Rand was the Bloody Dragon Reborn! How would Tam like to hear that? "Well, sir, Rand's doing fine, except that he's due to go crazy in, oh, say, a few weeks from now. Then he'll start blasting everybody across Hell and half of Georgia." Light!
One of the villages looked at him. It always made Perrin jump when people looked at him. It didn't matter if they cared about his yellow eyes or not. He just hated it. The cravings he'd been getting lately didn't help much. Why, just last week, Master Luhhan had found him out in the stable, devouring a raw cow that he had recently ripped the throat out of. For some reason, though, every time he thought about his eyes or his connection to the wolves, the back of his mind itched. *Light! No! I _will_ not!* Angrily, he pushed it back. Everyone in the village thought it was strange that he had begun decorating his rooms with wolf skins and heads, but he didn't care. He watched warily as someone walked up to him. Light, just because someone was walking up to him didn't mean he was bloody a'tavern!
"Perrin? I have these two sets of shoes. Which ones do you think I should put on?"
Perrin responded slowly. "Well, which ones do you think you should put on?"
"Well, this pair doesn't have any soles, toes, or heels. I was thinking of throwing them away and wearing my other pair."
Perrin responded slowly. "Well, perhaps that is what you should do."
"Okay. Thanks."
Why did everybody continue coming to him with these stupid questions?
"I'm _not_ bloody a'tavern!!!!!"
Mat knew as the knife ran through his heart that his luck had run out. He wished that he had the knack with girls that Perrin and Rand did. He gurgled something under his breath around the blood that was trickling out. He heard someone mutter, "Light! The old tongue!"
Egwene finally returns to the White Tower. She is immediately stilled, collared, and killed.
Logain reaches Tear. He grasps Callandor. He feels the One Power coursing through his veins. He thinks, "the traps that Rand set must have backfired! I can channel again!" The traps come back on line, and he is fried, extra crispy.
Rand decides it is time to really ruin some Forsaken's day. He makes a beeline to the one that he is least expected to go to, muttering about it the entire time. Ba'alzamon starts running, realizing that he's probably gonna have to die *again* at the end of this novel. Probably twice, two.
Nynaeve and Elayne strangle each other.
The White Tower exterminates all women within 100 leagues of the White Tower, including Leane, Suian Sanche, and Min. And themselves. And all the damane that the Seanchan were bringing.
Rand finds some more Myrdraal and Trollocs and bastes them.
The Final Chapter.
"BA'ALZAMON!!!!!!!!!"
"Look, can't we talk about this?"
The Cat in the Barrel meets Dog in Heat.
The Troubled Millpond meets Hurricane Hugo.
The Mad Panicked Flight meets Death Incarnate.
"Shit. Not again!"
"BA'ALZAMON!!!!!!!!"
Rand says,"I did it. I killed Shai'tan well and truly, this time!"
Moiraine says, "You Fool! Do you dare mention his name?"
Rand replies,"Piss off. Go somewhere."
Lan twitches an eyebrow, which is the same as the death yawp in most
men.
"And it came to be that the Dragon Reborn kicked heap big ass." Chief Running Away, fourth age
The End of the Fifth Book of The Wheel Of Thyme Book six: The Death of Rand - coming in December '99
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