"Choices" revisited
by sidious
What really happened in TFoH (Choices). I give you exhibit A … the hidden archives found after the Breaking of Randland, when saidar was tainted after a group of bossy women decided to challenge the Creator.…
At the other end of the line, the side of Kadere’s wagon exploded, splinters scything down Aiel and townsfolk. Lanfear stepped out into the stunned silence except for the moans and screams of the injured, and those threatening legal action to compensate for their injuries. Something limp and pale and red-streaked was hanging from her hand, but for once Lews Therin couldn’t explain who it belonged to. Her face was a mask carved of ice.
“He told me Lews Therin,” she almost screamed. “You let another woman touch you again!”
“More than touched…” Egwene murmered into her hand, forgetting the enhanced hearing which saidar provided. Before Lanfear reached the stones of the quay, Moiraine lifted her skirts higher and began running straight toward her. Amazingly the diminutive woman couldn’t run as fast as the tall and athletic Lan, which left most readers gaping. Suddenly Lan seemed to run into an invisible wall, only to realize that it was in fact not invisible, and that he had been running in the wrong direction and had collided with the city gates. Suddenly he staggered forward again and a giant hand smashed him aside… which was attributed to Lanfear but was more accurately Nynaeve al’Meara reacting from her observation post in Tel’aran’rhiod, and expressing her concern that he was running towards a sexy woman in white.
While he was in midair, Moiraine jerked forward until she was face to face with Lanfear. The Forsaken looked at her as though wondering what could have gotten in her way … but the readers were not surprised. It was a well known fact that all major characters could not die, not even by Lanfear’s hand. And thus the flux rushed through the Pattern and allowed Moiraine to slip around Lanfear’s wardings. Moiraine was then flung to one side so hard she rolled over and over until she disappeared beneath the wagons… Nynaeve’s revenge remembered.
The quayside was in turmoil. Just moments since the wagon exploded yet only the blind could not know that the woman in white wielded the One Power, and even they were trying to run away, although most ran inadvertently towards her. Among them cadin’sor-clad figures veiled themselves and rushed at Lanfear with spears or knives or bare hands. There could be no doubt she was the source of the attack, no doubt she fought with the Power, except for the stubborn few who attributed her actions to heresy.
Fire rolled over them in waves. Arrows of it piercing those who came on with their clothes in flames. Boiling oil rolled over those who persisted, and molten magma crushed the greatest of them. Still some of their mightiest ran on, but they were taken care of by Barney, for no lethality could match his malice.
Rand seized the male half of the True Source, molten steel and ice raining death on him again… and the midden heap just to make his day all the more brighter. He pulled the heat from the fires and sunk it into the rivers, not realizing in his woolhead brain that the superheated water would boil those swimming for the seafolk ships, or that the bursts of steam would uproot the largest rakers. He removed the boiling oil and rained it into the river, sealing the fate of those floundering ships still recovering from the steam blasts. The charred survivors on the land were at least safe, their 100% third-degree burns would be manageable in the advanced hospitals of the Age, or by the Wise Ones who reportedly had a single Wise One who could Heal in the Waste, though she usually did it by accident, and usually while extracting water from the ground.
In the same instant Rand wove a dome to cover the inner city, and actually seal him and his friends inside an enclosure with the most dangerous woman who had ever lived. Those who had crawled in pain to the city boundaries were squashed by the borders of this barrier… their brave efforts thwarted by Rand al’Thor but wonderfully linked to Lanfear the evil Forsaken. At the same time he thought on his genius at enclosing the smoky area inside a dome of air, and he wondered whether he would be able to see Lanfear after a few minutes with all the smoke that was gathering.
Aviendha and Egwene had their eyes concentrated on Lanfear too. He had meant to leave them outside of the dome with Mat the great general, and Asmodean, another man of Forsaken strength. He marveled at his wisdom. “Which is Aviendha?” Lanfear snarled. A lone peasant at the rear of the dome said that was her name, and she unfortunately experienced the worst series of co-incidences since the Breaking of the World. After Lanfear removed the poor lass from the Pattern, she turned her eyes on Egwene and Aviendha. Egwene threw back her head and wailed, eyes bulging, the world’s agony shrieking from her mouth as Lanfear dirtied Egwene’s newly painted fingernails. Aviendha rose on tiptoes, shuddering, howls chasing Egwene’s as Lanfear gave her a pedicure.
The thought was suddenly there in the emptiness … Spirit, Fire and Earth, laid on a matrix of all five Powers, with touches of Air and Water and Spirit, with a small underlay of Earth and Water. There… the simple weave to cut a female flow. Egwene collapsed into a motionless heap, and Aviendha was on her knees swaying.
“You are mine, Lews Therin! Mine!”
“No!” Rand said from the Void. “I was never yours Mierine. It was always Ilyena, Mary and Barbie.” The Void quivered with sorrow and loss, and with desperation, and memories of whipped cream. “Your name is Lanfear, and I’ll die before I love one of the Forsaken.”
Something that might have been anguish crossed her face. “If you are not mine, then you are dead.”
The first rerun of informercials was projected into his mind. Agony in his chest, as if his heart was about to explode, in his head, white-hot nails driving into his brain, pain so strong that inside the Void he wanted to scream. He wove his weave and sliced her weave. His heart was no longer beating. Fingers of dark pain crushing the Void. He had no time to recover. He struck at her with Air, a club to knock her senseless, and to get some damned revenge for those visions he saw in his head. He struck again and again and she sliced his weaves as easily as if she could see them… could she be a man? The Void trembled, but Lews Therin relived some experiences which allayed his fears.
It was not at him directly she struck this time, but to his link to sanity. Panic rang the Void at the first projected clip from the Bold and the Beautiful. With Spirit and Fire and Earth he cut at the knife blade. Her attempted mental killer vanished, reappeared as fast as he could cut it, but always with that momentary ebbing of sanity. Lews Therin was telling him of ways to defeat her, ways involving action flicks like Rambo and Die Hard, but if he listened it might be Lews Therin Telamon who walked away, and not the stupid shepherd.
“I’ll make both of those trulls watch you beg,” Lanfear said, “I want you to hurt Lews Therin, I want you to feel pain such as no man has ever known.” When had she climbed on to that wagon? He had to look for any sign that she was tiring. It was a vain hope. Seeing her stand there watching scenes involving Stephanie and Eric, she appeared to grow stronger than ever.
“Pain Lews Therin”. And there was pain, the world swallowed in agony as Stephanie spoke of Forrester yet again. He could almost hear the quenching hiss with each thrust, and each came deeper than the last. Her attempts to make him a lunatic didn’t stop… the clips came bigger, faster, stronger. He couldn’t believe this soap was so strong. He could end it, finish her. He could end it. Only he could not. He was going to die, the world might die witnessing these images, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill her. Somehow he had to know what Ridge had to say to Brooke.
Wiping the blood from her mouth, Moiraine crawled out from under the wagon. She saw Lan, who twitched. Perhaps he was trying to rise, perhaps dying, perhaps he had developed a spasm, perhaps a rabid squirrel was gnawing his cheek. She saw Rand laughing on his knees. Moiraine felt a chill. If the madness had him, it was beyond her, but if he was laughing at Sally’s mismatched cocktail dress, it would be excusable. The site of Lanfear hit her like a blow… her smooth features, her full bosom, her covetous lips, he milky skin… no! … she was evil. At first she thought the woman was glowing like the sun, but it just so happened it was dusk and Moiraine was looking into the sun. She saw the 42” plasma screen. With it she should be able to crush Rand… or maybe she was toying with him. Only a closer look would reveal that it was a high definition screen with several million potential colours. She did not like that plasma screen. Yesterday she had taken that screen from the wagons from Rhuidean and placed them next to the red door ter’angreal.
Moiraine was small, and her weight did not disturb the wagon. She winced as her dress caught on a splinter and tore. It was an Aldarb dress, woven in criss cross patterns with the best Tairen silk! No, the Dragon Reborn reaching Tarmon Gai’don was more important. Or was it? Was that really more important than a ruined silk dress? Hesitating, she decided whether to help Rand or mend her dress. Suppressing a small bubble of hope, she saw a seamstress on the other side of the city gates. She would save Rand then save the world. Every women knew that a ruined dress was as bad as the end of the world. Leaping at Lanfear, the two women released the Source and started having a fight with their long nails only. Clawing furiously at one another, Rand gaped with approval and some of the blind had their sight restored. A second later the visions disappeared, and the two women fell through the red door ter’angreal.