The great hunt - By Robert Jordan Page 0,141

“The more you live in the Oneness, the easier.”

Rand glanced at her. “Well, I won’t need it again, not for a while.” What happened? I wanted to. . . . He still wanted to, he realized with horror. He wanted to go back into the void, wanted to feel that light filling him again. It had seemed as if he were truly alive then, sickliness and all, and now was only an imitation. No, worse. He had been almost alive, knowing what “alive” would be like. All he had to do was reach out to saidin. . . .

“Not again,” he muttered. He gazed off at the dead grolm, five monstrous shapes lying on the ground. Not dangerous anymore. “Now we can be on our—”

A coughing bark, all too familiar, sounded beyond the dead grolm, beyond the next hill, and others answered it. Still more came, from the east, from the west.

Rand half raised his bow.

“How many arrows do you have left?” Selene demanded. “Can you kill twenty grolm? Thirty? A hundred? We must go to the Portal Stone.”

“She is right, Rand,” Loial said slowly. “You do not have any choice now.” Hurin was watching Rand anxiously. The grolm called, a score of barks overlapping.

“The Stone,” Rand agreed reluctantly. Angrily he threw himself back into his saddle, slung the bow on his back. “Lead us to this Stone, Selene.”

With a nod she turned her mare and heeled it to a trot. Rand and the others followed, they eagerly, he holding back. The barks of grolm pursued them, hundreds it seemed. It sounded as if the grolm were ranged in a semicircle around them, closing in from every direction but the front.

Swiftly and surely Selene led them through the hills. The land rose in the beginning of mountains, slopes steepening so the horses scrambled over washed-out-looking rocky outcrops and the sparse, faded-looking brush that clung to them. The way became harder, the land slanting more and more upward.

We’re not going to make it, Rand thought, the fifth time Red slipped and slid backwards in a shower of stone. Loial threw his quarterstaff aside; it would be of no use against grolm, and it only slowed him. The Ogier had given up riding; he used one hand to haul himself up, and pulled his tall horse behind him with the other. The hairy-fetlocked animal made heavy going, but easier than with Loial on its back. Grolm barked behind them, closer now.

Then Selene drew rein and pointed to a hollow nestled below them in the granite. It was all there, the seven wide, colored stairs around a pale floor, and the tall stone column in the middle.

She dismounted and led her mare into the hollow, down the stairs to the column. It loomed over her. She turned to look back up at Rand and the others. The grolm gave their grunting barks, scores of them, loud. Near. “They will be on us soon,” she said. “You must use the Stone, Rand. Or else find a way to kill all the grolm.”

With a sigh, Rand got down from his saddle and led Red into the hollow. Loial and Hurin followed hastily. He stared at the symbol-covered column, the Portal Stone, uneasily. She must be able to channel, even if she doesn’t know it, or it couldn’t have brought her here. The Power doesn’t harm women. “If this brought you here,” he began, but she interrupted him.

“I know what it is,” she said firmly, “but I do not know how to use it. You must do what must be done.” She traced one symbol, a little larger than the others, with a finger. A triangle standing on its point inside a circle. “This stands for the true world, our world. I believe it will help if you hold it in your mind while you. . . .” She spread her hands as if unsure exactly what it was he was supposed to do.

“Uh . . . my Lord?” Hurin said diffidently. “There isn’t much time.” He glanced over his shoulder at the rim of the hollow. The barking was louder. “Those things will be here in minutes, now.” Loial nodded.

Drawing a deep breath, Rand put his hand on the symbol Selene had pointed out. He looked at her to see if he was doing it right, but she merely watched, not even the slightest frown of worry wrinkling her pale forehead. She’s confident you can save her. You have to. The scent of her filled