Tarmon Gai'don
She's heard talk of the calm before the storm, but there's no calm here. It's one front after another thudding against the shore, dumping its load of rain and wind and terror down on them just in time for the next to roll in. She can feel it in the air, and it makes her sick to her stomach.
Nynaeve has a moment, fast and fleeting as sheet lightning, to wish that Lan were here, that she could see him one last time--
Then the world goes to hell--as some in Milliways would say--and all Nynaeve can do is try to keep abreast of it. She's got a brief moment to be grateful for the angreal and ter'angreal on her wrist and fingers; without them she'd likely be overwhelmed already. Moghedien is somewhere about, not to mention the rest of the thrice-damned Forsaken, and Nynaeve can't afford to die yet. Or to lose sight of Rand. Or to--
She grits her teeth, channeling a complex mass of Fire and Air to protect herself from incoming fireballs, then darts after that bloody fool of a sheepherder. He lacks the sense the Creator gave a horse, and Light knows those are some of the most bloody fool creatures on the planet.
Now, if only their plan to lure some of the weaker Forsaken out into the open works--
The Kin are holding steady, Sisters and Asha'man interspersed among them. It's good to see, but Nynaeve is already shifting position so that she can keep an eye on Rand. And Logain. And--
Blood and bloody ashes!
"Rand!"
Nynaeve is readying the Weave for balefire almost before she's aware of it and--Moghedien? Semirhage? Demandred? (does it even matter now? will the knowledge help her harm them before Rand himself is destroyed?)--
Light help us all
The battle is joined.
Nynaeve has a moment, fast and fleeting as sheet lightning, to wish that Lan were here, that she could see him one last time--
Then the world goes to hell--as some in Milliways would say--and all Nynaeve can do is try to keep abreast of it. She's got a brief moment to be grateful for the angreal and ter'angreal on her wrist and fingers; without them she'd likely be overwhelmed already. Moghedien is somewhere about, not to mention the rest of the thrice-damned Forsaken, and Nynaeve can't afford to die yet. Or to lose sight of Rand. Or to--
She grits her teeth, channeling a complex mass of Fire and Air to protect herself from incoming fireballs, then darts after that bloody fool of a sheepherder. He lacks the sense the Creator gave a horse, and Light knows those are some of the most bloody fool creatures on the planet.
Now, if only their plan to lure some of the weaker Forsaken out into the open works--
The Kin are holding steady, Sisters and Asha'man interspersed among them. It's good to see, but Nynaeve is already shifting position so that she can keep an eye on Rand. And Logain. And--
Blood and bloody ashes!
"Rand!"
Nynaeve is readying the Weave for balefire almost before she's aware of it and--Moghedien? Semirhage? Demandred? (does it even matter now? will the knowledge help her harm them before Rand himself is destroyed?)--
Light help us all
The battle is joined.