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Dragon Reborn · Read more · Dragon Reborn. Read more · Dragon Reborn · Read more 03 - The Dragon Reborn(v) · Read more · Reborn. Read more. Download this ebook at: vitecek.info?book= [PDF] Download The Dragon Reborn: Book Three of 'the Wheel of. 03 - The Dragon Reborn - Robert Jordan - documento [*.pdf] Praise for THE WHEEL OF TIME® Book Three THE DRAGON REBORN “An.
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Show related SlideShares at end. WordPress Shortcode. Published in: Full Name Comment goes here. Are you sure you want to Yes No. Be the first to like this. No Downloads. Views Total views. Actions Shares. Jaret Byar had been given time to wash before being brought to Niall, but both his helmet and his breastplate were dulled from travel and battered from use.
Dark, deep-set eyes shone with a feverish, urgent light in a face that seemed to have had every spare scrap of flesh boiled away.
Twin fires on long hearths at either end of the room held off the late winter cold. Furnishings came to the audience chamber of the Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light with the man who rose to the office; the flaring sun of coin gold had been worn smooth by generations of petitioners, replaced and worn smooth again.
Gold enough to buy any estate in Amadicia, and the patent of nobility to go with it. For ten years Niall had walked across that gold and never thought of it twice, any more than he thought of the sunburst embroidered across the chest of his white tunic.
Gold held little interest for Pedron Niall. Eventually his eyes went back to the table next to him, covered with maps and scattered letters and reports. Three loosely rolled drawings lay among the jumble. He took one up reluctantly. It did not matter which; all depicted the same scene, though by different hands.
Still, he was suddenly aware of the tendon-ridged back of the hand holding the drawing, aware of the need for haste.
Time was growing short. His time was growing short.
It had to be enough. He had to make it enough.
He made himself unroll the thick parchment halfway, just enough to see the face that interested him. The chalks were a little smudged from travel in saddlebags, but the face was clear. A gray-eyed youth with reddish hair. He looked tall, but it was hard to say for certain.
Aside from the hair and the eyes, he could have been set down in any town without exciting comment. The Dragon. The name made him feel the chills of winter and age.
The name borne by Lews Therin Telamon when he doomed every man who could channel the One Power, then or ever after, to insanity and death, himself among them.
It was more than three thousand years since Aes Sedai pride and the War of the Shadow had brought an end to the Age of Legends. Three thousand years, but prophecy and legend helped men remember—the heart of it, at least, if the details were gone. Lews Therin Kinslayer.
The man who had begun the Breaking of the World, when madmen who could tap the power that drove the universe leveled mountains and sank ancient lands beneath the seas, when the whole face of the earth had been changed and all who survived fled like beasts before a wildfire.
It had not ended until the last male Aes Sedai lay dead, and a scattered human race could begin trying to rebuild from the rubble—where even rubble remained.
It was burned into memory by the stories mothers told children. And prophecy said the Dragon would be born again. Niall had not really meant it for a question, but Byar took it for one.
Thousands have declared for him already. Tarabon and Arad Doman are in civil war, as well as at war with each other. There is fighting all across Almoth Plain and Toman Head, Taraboner against Domani against Darkfriends crying for the Dragon—or there was fighting until winter chilled most of it. Like throwing a lantern into a hay barn.
The snow may have damped it down, but come spring, the flames will burst out hotter than before. Twice already Niall had let him tell his story through, his voice burning with anger and hate. Parts of it Niall knew from other sources, and in some areas he knew more than Byar, but each time he heard it, it goaded him anew. And Aes Sedai did it. You have no doubts, Child Byar? After a skirmish on the way to Falme, I saw two of the Tar Valon witches. They cost us more than fifty dead before we stuck them full of arrows.
My Lord Captain Commander, what else could they have been? There had been no male Aes Sedai since the Breaking of the World, but the women who still claimed that title were bad enough.
They prated of their Three Oaths: But now they had showed those oaths for the lies they were. He had always known no one could want the power they wielded except to challenge the Creator, and that meant to serve the Dark One. And his charge broke them, even if they killed him. Everyone I spoke to agreed the strangers had broken and fled. Lord Captain Bornhald did that. They were almost the same words Byar had used the first two times about the army that had seemingly come out of nowhere to take Falme.
A good soldier, Niall thought, so Geofram Bornhald always said, but not a man to think for himself. I was to watch, and report to you. And tell his son, Lord Dain, how he died.
It is exactly the sort of thing Geofram Bornhald would do, facing a battle in which he feared his entire command might die.
There was nothing more to learn from the man. You may join them. Thank you. Yet as he straightened, he hesitated. I do not know how, but I know he is to blame.
I know it. As the door closed behind him, Niall lowered himself into his high-backed chair. There were far too many Darkfriends to waste energy on hating any particular one. Too many Darkfriends, high and low, hiding behind glib tongues and open smiles, serving the Dark One. Still, one more name added to the lists would do no harm. He shifted on the hard chair, trying to find comfort for his old bones.