Information

Moridin has a minion!

Saa the Dark Matter

Moridin
Legacy Name: Moridin

The

Darkmatter Escalade
Owner:

Darkhound

Age: 14 years, 5 months, 2 weeks

Born: November 28th, 2009

Adopted: 14 years, 5 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: November 28th, 2009

Statistics

Level: 31
Strength: 78
Defense: 78
Speed: 78
Health: 79
HP: 10/79
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

Moridin stood before the fire in his hold. He had pulled the boy Rand al’Thor’s dreaming mind into this realm, and it was only a matter of time until he opened the door into this room. Either al’Thor or his two companions was the one he searched for, and he had to know who.

Defeating Lews Therin as the Dragon three thousand years ago was enough, but now he needed to find the man reborn again, the Dragon Reborn. The boy wouldn’t know who he was though. Every time a soul was reborn, a new mind, a new personality developed, but it was still the same soul. As if finding him wasn’t already hard enough. Besides, Moridin was a philosopher, and being pulled from his contemplations to find some reborn soul was distasteful.

The Dragon, he thought sneeringly. Lews Therin had been named after the image on his banner.

Lews had been the one to seal the Great Lord back into his prison when he tried to break free those thousands of years ago. “The Dark One” they called the Great Lord, the fools. However, the Great Lord had tainted the male half of the One Power before he was sealed away again, and Lews Therin and the other male Aes Sedai, users of the One Power, had gone mad and died. Not before they had broken the world, however. Now, men who could channel the One Power were gentled -cut off from the One Power- or killed. Ironically, they died from depression after being gentled anyway.

The Dragon Reborn would be able to channel. He, like his life before, was prophesied to possibly be able to seal the The Great Lord away again. Not a certainty, of course. The prophecy only foretold a chance. Because of this, The Great Lord wanted the Dragon Reborn to serve him or die, and it was Moridin’s job, as the last of the Chosen (“Forsaken” as the world called them), to find the boy.

Moridin stood in a grim, stone-walled chamber. One wall opened into a series of arches onto a gray stone balcony, and beyond that was a sky of striated clouds in blacks and grays, reds and oranges, streaming by as if driven by a storm. The room was of odd curves and angles, as if it had melted out of stone, and columns seemed to grow out of the gray floor. Flames roared on the hearth like a forge-fire but gave no heat. Oval stones made the fireplace, wet-slick despite the fire. When glimpsed from the corner of one’s eye the stones appeared to be the faces of men and women, screaming silently in anguish. The high-backed chairs and the polished table in the middle of the room were perfectly ordinary, but that in itself emphasized the rest.

Moridin had chosen to wear dark clothes of a fine cut, and was in the prime of maturity. Many women found him good-looking. His mouth tipped in a sardonic smile at the thought.

Abruptly he heard the door open behind him and he raised his head slightly. Al’Thor had entered. The boy was about twenty, with red hair and blue eyes, and dressed in the plain clothes of a farmer. His walk was hesitant, his eyes full of trepidation, which was not surprising. Men who stayed here too long uninvited by the Great Lord went mad with fear.

“Once more we meet face-to-face,” Moridin said , his eyes and mouth becoming openings into an endless furnace for an instant.

Al’Thor yelled in fright and ran to the door only to see the very same room again through the doorway, as if in a mirror. The corridor he had taken had vanished.

“You cannot get away from me that easily,” Moridin said, watching him. Moridin would treat the boy as if he truly was Lews Therin. He would treat all three of the boys like that. It would scare them and maybe give Ishamael a lead as to which was the Dragon. He knew that it was one of those three. They were the right age, all male, and all with uncommon luck.

The door closed, and the boy froze half crouched not far from the polished table, staring at Ishamael. “This is a dream,” he said shakily, straightening. “It’s some kind of nightmare.”

“Is it a dream?” Moridin said.”Does it matter?” His moth and eyes burned again for an instant but he didn’t notice. It happened often.

Al’Thor jumped and tried to turn the door handle. It did not move: the door was locked.

“You seem thirsty,” Moridin said. “Drink.” He gestured to the table between them. There was a goblet on the table, shining gold, with rubies and diamonds embedded in the sides. It had not been there before. Ishamael could easily summon things at will here.

“I am, a little,” the boy said slowly, picking up the goblet. Moridin leaned forward, one hand on the back of the chair, watching him. If al’Thor drank it . . .

Al’Thor raised the goblet and then paused, staring at the smoke that rose from the back of the chair between Moridin’s fingers. The boy licked his lips and placed the goblet back down. “I’m not as thirsty as I thought.”

Moridin straightened, disappointed. Al’Thor eyed him, sweat beading on his forehead, then blurted out “What do you want? Who are you?”

Moridin softly said “Some call be Ba’alzamon.” It was what the Trollocs, the creatures of the Great Lord, called him. It meant “Heart of the Dark” in their tongue.

Al’Thor’s eyes widened in terror and he whirled, yanking frantically at the door.

“Are you the one?” Moridin said suddenly. “You cannot hide from me forever. You cannot even hide yourself from me, not on the highest mountain or in the deepest cave. I know you down to the smallest hair.”

Al’Thor turned to face him, swallowing hard. He pulled the door handle one more time then stood up straighter.

“Are you expecting glory?” Moridin spoke again. “Power? Did the Aes Sedai tell you that the Eye of the World would serve you? What glory or power is there for a puppet? The strings that move you were centuries in the weaving.”

“ I don’t know . . . .” Al’Thor swung his head from side to side then spoke as if forcing the words out. “You . . . are bound . . . in Shayol Ghul. You and all of the Forsaken . . . bound by the Creator until the end of time.”

“Fool, I have never been bound!” Moridin snarled. Al’Thor stepped back, raising his hands as if to shield himself. “I stood at Lews Therin Kinslayer’s shoulder when he did the deed the named him. It was I who told him to kill his wife, his children, all of his blood, every person who loved him or whom he loved. Have you heard a man scream his soul away, worm? He could have struck me, then. He could not have won, but he could have tried. Instead he called down his precious One Power upon himself, so much that the earth split open and reared up Dragonmount to mark his tomb.”

“A Thousand years later I sent the Trollocs ravening south, and for three centuries they savaged the world. Those blind fools in Tar Valon said I was beaten in the end, but the Second Covenant of the Ten Nations was shattered beyond remaking, and who was left to oppose me then? I whispered in Artur Hawkwing’s ear and in the length and breadth of the land Aes Sedai died. I whispered again, and the High King sent his armies across the Word Sea, and sealed two dooms. I was there at his deathbed when his councilors told him only Aes Sedai could save his life. I spoke, and he ordered his councilors to the stake. I spoke and the High King’s last words were to cry that Tar Valon must be destroyed.”

“When such men could not stand against me, what chance do you have, a toad crouching beside a forest puddle. You will serve me, or you will dance on Aes Sedai strings until you die. And then you will be mine. The dead belong to me!”

“No,” al’Thor muttered feverishly, “This is a dream. It is a dream!”

“Do you think you are safe from me in your dreams? Look!” Moridin pointed commandingly at the table, and al’Thor unwillingly turned his head.

A large rat crouched on the table, sniffing the air. Ishamael crooked his finger slightly, and with a squeak the rat arched its back, forepaws lifting into the air. His finger curved more, and the rat toppled over, scrabbling frantically, pawing at nothing, squealing shrilly, its back bending, bending, bending. With a sharp snap like a breaking twig, the rat trembled violently and was still, lying almost bent double.

Al’Thor swallowed. “Anything can happen in a dream,” he mumbled. He swung his fist back to the door again, striking the immovable wood.

“Then go the Aes Sedai. Go to the White Tower and tell them. Tell the Amyrlin Seat of this . . . dream. “Moridin laughed. “They will not use you then. But will they let you live, to spread the tale of what they do? Are you a big enough fool to believe they will? The ashes of many like you are scattered on the slopes of Dragonmount.”

“This is a dream,” the boy said, panting. “It’s a dream, and I am going to wake up.”

“Will you?” Moridin pointed his finger at the boy. “Will you indeed?” Moridin crooked the outstretched finger, and the boy screamed as he arched backwards. “Will you ever wake again?”Al’Thor’s back bent further, and then he vanished as Moridin released his dreaming mind from this realm.

Moridin lowered his hand, staring at the stop where the boy had stood. There was currently no way to tell whether al’Thor had been the right one. The only similarity between the boy and Lews Therin as Moridin remembered him from three thousand years ago was his height. Lews and al’Thor were of the exact same height.

Moridin sighed and reached out with the power given to him by the Great Lord, snagging the mind of the second boy, Perrin. He turned back to the fire and stood waiting for the next boy to enter the room. The search continued.

From "The Wheel of Time" series, Book 1, "The Eye of the World"