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ow。 I confess surprise that you cared enough to make them useful。 But you were ever a fool； ever ready to follow your heart before power。 You came too soon； Lews Therin。 Now you must do what you are not yet ready for； or else die。 Die； knowing you have left these women you care for in my hands。〃 He seemed to be waiting for something； expectant。 〃I mean to use them more； Kinslayer。 They will serve me； serve my power。 And that will hurt them far more than anything they have suffered before。〃
Behind Rand； Callandor flashed； throwing one pulse of warmth against his back。 〃Who are you？〃
〃You do not remember me； do you？〃 The white…haired man laughed suddenly。 〃I do not remember you； either； looking this way。 A country lad with a flute case on his back。 Did Ishamael speak the truth？ He was ever one to lie when it gained him an inch or a second。 Do you remember nothing； Lews Therin？〃
〃A name！〃 Rand demanded。 〃What is your name？〃
〃Call me Be'lal。〃 The Forsaken scowled when Rand did not react to the name。 〃Take it！〃 Be'lal snapped； throwing a hand toward the sword behind Rand。 〃Once we rode to war side by side； and for that I give you a chance。 A bare chance； but a chance to save yourself； a chance to save those three I mean to make my pets。 Take the sword； country man。 Perhaps it will be enough to help you survive me。〃
Rand laughed。 〃Do you believe you can frighten me so easily； Forsaken？ Ba'alzamon himself has hunted me。 Do you think I will cower now for you？ Grovel before a Forsaken when I have denied the Dark One to his face？〃
〃Is that what you think？〃 Be'lal said softly。 〃Truly； you know nothing。〃 Suddenly there was a sword in his hands； a sword with a blade carved from black fire。 〃Take it！ Take Callandor！ Three thousand years； while I lay imprisoned； it has waited there。 For you。 One of the most powerful sa'angreal we ever made。 Take it； and defend yourself； if you can！〃
He moved toward Rand as if to drive him back toward Callandor； but Rand raised his own hands…saidin filled him； sweet rushing flow of the Power； stomach…wrenching vileness of the taint…and he held a sword wrought from red flame； a sword with a heron…mark on its fiery blade。 He stepped into the forms Lan had taught him till he flowed from one to the next as if in a dance。 Parting the Silk。 Water Flows Downhill。 Wind and Rain。 Blade of black fire met blade of red in showers of sparks； roars like white…hot metal shattering。
Rand came back smoothly into a guard stance； trying not to let his sudden uncertainty show。 A heron stood on the black blade； too； a bird so dark as to be nearly invisible。 Once he had faced a man with a heron…mark blade of steel； and barely survived。 He knew that he himself had no real right to the blademaster's mark； it had been on the sword his father had given him； and when he thought of a sword in his hands； he thought of that sword。 Once he had embraced death； as the Warder had taught； but this time； he knew； his death would be final。 Be'lal was better than he with the sword。 Stronger。 Faster。 A true blademaster。
The Forsaken laughed； amused； swinging his blade in quick flourishes to either side of him； the black fire roared as if swift passage through the air quickened it。 〃You were a greater swordsman； once； Lews Therin；〃 he said mockingly。 〃Do you remember when we took that tame sport called swords and learned to kill with it； as the old volumes said men once had？ Do you remember even one of those desperate battles； even one of our dire defeats？ Of course not。 You remember nothing； do you？ This time you have not learned enough。 This time； Lews Therin； I will kill you。〃 Be'lal's mockery deepened。 〃Perhaps if you take Callandor； you might extend your life a little longer。 A little longer。〃
He came forward slowly； almost as if to give Rand time to do just that； turn and race to Callandor； to the Sword That Cannot Be Touched； to take it。 But the doubts were still strong in Rand。 Callandor could only be touched by the Dragon Reborn。 He had allowed them to proclaim him so for a hundred reasons that seemed to leave him no choice at the time。 But was he truly the Dragon Reborn？ If he raced to touch Callandor in truth； not in a dream； would his hand meet an invisible wall while Be'lal cut him down from behind？
He met the Forsaken with the sword he knew； the blade of fire wrought with saidin。 And was driven back。 The Falling Leaf met Watered Silk。 The Cat Dances on the Wall met the Boar Rushes Downhill。 The River Undercuts the Bank nearly lost him his head； and he had to throw himself inelegantly to one side with black flame brushing his hair； rolling to his feet to confront the Stone Falls From the Mountain。 Methodically； deliberately； Be'lal drove him back in a spiral that slowly tightened on Callandor。
Shouts echoed among the columns； screams； the clash of steel； but Rand barely heard。 He and Be'lal were no longer alone in the Heart of the Stone。 Men in breastplates and rimmed helmets fought with swords against shadowy； veiled shapes that darted among the columns with short spears stabbing。 Some of the soldiers formed a rank； arrows flashing out of the dimness took them in the throat； the face； and they died in their line。 Rand hardly noticed the fighting； even when men fell dead within paces of him。 His own fight was too desperate； it took all of his concentration。 Wet warmth trickled down his side。 The old wound was breaking open。
He stumbled suddenly； not seeing the dead man at his feet until he was lying on his back atop his flute case on the stone floor。
Be'lal raised his blade of black fire； snarling。 〃Take it！ Take Callandor and defend yourself？ Take it； or I will kill you now！ If you will not take it； I will slay you！〃
〃No！〃
Even Be'lal gave a start at the mand in that woman's voice。 The Forsaken stepped back out of the arc of Rand's sword and turned his head to frown at Moiraine as she came striding through the battle； her eyes fixed on him； ignoring the screaming deaths around her。 〃I thought you were neatly out of the way； woman。 No matter。 You are only an annoyance。 A stinging fly。 A biteme。 I will cage you with the others； and teach you to serve the Shadow with your puny powers；〃 he finished with a contemptuous laugh； and raised his free hand。
Moiraine had not stopped or slowed while he spoke。 She was no more than thirty paces from him when he moved his hand； and she raised both of hers as well。
There was an instant of surprise on the Forsaken's face； and he had time to scream 〃No！〃 Then a bar of white fire hotter than the sun shot from the Aes Sedai's hands； a glaring rod that banished all shadows。 Before it； Be'lal became a shape of shimmering motes； specks dancing in the light for less than a heartbeat； flecks consumed before his cry faded。
There was silence in the chamber as that bar of light vanished； silence except for the moans of the wounded。 The fighting had stopped dead； veiled men and men in breastplates alike standing as if stunned。
〃He was right concerning one thing；〃 Moiraine said； as coolly serene as if she were standing in a meadow。 〃You must take Callandor。 He m