"Burn him!" she sobbed. "The Light burn him! He has no right!" Within her she felt a flowering, an opening up, an unfolding to light.
Teeth bared, she turned to face her pursuer just as Aginor appeared, laughing, in a lurching gallop.
"You have no right!" She flung her fist toward him, fingers opening as if she were throwing something. She was only half surprised to see a ball of fire leave her hand.
It exploded against Aginor's chest, knocking him to the ground. For only an instant he sprawled there, then rose, staggering. He seemed unaware of the smoldering front of his coat. "You dare? You dare!" He quivered, and spittle leaked down his chin.
Abruptly there were clouds in the sky, threatening billows of gray and black. Lightning leaped from the cloud, straight for Nynaeve's heart.
It seemed to her, just for a heartbeat, as if time had suddenly slowed, as though that heartbeat took forever. She felt the flow inside her – saidar, came a distant thought – felt the answering flow in the lightning. And she altered the direction of the flow. Time leaped forward.
With a crash, the bolt shattered stone above Aginor's head. The Forsaken's sunken eyes widened, and he tottered back. "You cannot! It cannot be!" He leaped away as lightning struck where he had stood, stone erupting in a fountain of shards.
Grimly Nynaeve started toward him. And Aginor fled.
Saidar was a torrent racing through her. She could feel the rocks around her, and the air, feel the tiny, flowing bits of the One Power that suffused them, and made them. And she could feel Aginor doing... something, as well. Dimly she felt it, and far distant, as if it were something she could never truly know, but around her she saw the effects and knew them for what they were.
The ground rumbled and heaved under her feet. Walls toppled in front of her, piles of stone to block her way. She scrambled over them, uncaring if sharp rock cut hands and feet, always keeping Aginor in sight. A wind rose, howling down the passages against her, raging till it flattened her cheeks and made her eyes water, trying to knock her down; she changed the flow, and Aginor tumbled along the passageway like an uprooted bush. She touched the flow in the ground, redirected it, and stone walls collapsed around Aginor, sealing him in. Lightning fell with her glare, striking around him, stone exploding ever closer and closer. She could feel him fighting to push it back at her, but foot by foot the dazzling bolts moved toward the Forsaken.
Something gleamed off to her right, something uncovered by the collapsing walls.
Nynaeve could feel Aginor weakening, feel his efforts to strike at her grow more feeble and more frantic. Yet somehow she knew he had not given up. If she let him go now, he would chase after her as strongly as before, convinced she was too weak to defeat him after all, too weak to stop him from doing with her as he wished.
A silver arch stood where stone had been, an arch filled with soft silver radiance. The way back...
She knew when the Forsaken abandoned his attack, the moment when all his efforts were given over to staving her off. And his power was not enough, he could no longer deflect her blows. Now he had to fling himself away from the leaping gouts of stone thrown up by her lightning, the explosions flinging him down again.
The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.
The lightning no longer fell. Nynaeve turned from the scrabbling Aginor to look at the arch. She looked back at Aginor, just in time to see him crawl out of sight over the mounded stone and disappear. She hissed in frustration. Much of the maze still stood, and a hundred new places to hide in the rubble she and the Forsaken had made. It would take time to find him again, but she was sure if she did not find him first, he would find her. In his full strength, he would come on her when she least expected him.
The way back will come but once.
Frightened, she looked again and was relieved to see the arch still there. If she could find Aginor quickly ...
Be steadfast.
With a cry of thwarted anger, she climbed over the tumbled stone toward the arch. "Whoever's responsible for me being here," she muttered, "I'll make them wish they had gotten what Aginor got. I'll – " She stepped into the arch, and the light overwhelmed her.
"I'll – " Nynaeve stepped out of the arch and stopped to stare. It was all as she remembered – the silver ter'angreal, the Aes Sedai, the chamber – but remembering was like a blow, absent memories crashing back into her head. She had come out of the same arch by which she went in.
The Red sister raised one of the silver chalices high and poured a stream of cool, clear water over Nynaeve's head. "You are washed clean of what sin you may have done," the Aes Sedai intoned, "and of those done against you. You are washed clean of what crime you may have committed, and of those committed against you. You come to us washed clean and pure, in heart and soul."
Nynaeve shivered as the water ran down her body, dripping on the floor.
Sheriam took her arm with a relieved smile, but the Mistress of Novices' voice gave no hint of past worry. "You do well so far. Coming back is doing well. Remember what your purpose is, and you will continue to be well." The redhead began to lead her around the ter'angreal to another arch.
"It was so real," Nynaeve said in a whisper. She could remember everything, remember channeling the One Power as easily as lifting her hand. She could remember Aginor, and the things the Forsaken wanted to do to her. She shivered again. "Was it real?"
"No one knows," Sheriam replied. "It seems real in memory, and some have come out bearing the actual wounds of hurts taken inside. Others have been cut to the bone inside, and come back without a mark. It is all of it different every time for every woman who goes in. The ancients said there were many worlds. Perhaps this ter'angreal takes you to them. Yet if so, it does so under very stringent rules for something meant just to take you from one place to another. I believe it is not real. But remember, whether what happens is real or not, the danger is as real as a knife plunging into your heart."
"I channeled the Power. It was so easy."
Sheriam missed a step. "That isn't supposed to be possible. You should not even remember being able to channel." She studied Nynaeve. "And yet you are not harmed. I can still sense the ability in you, as strong as it ever was.""You sound as if it were dangerous," Nynaeve said slowly, and Sheriam hesitated before answering.
"It isn't thought necessary to give a warning, since you shouldn't be able to remember it, but ... This ter'angreal was found during the Trolloc Wars. We have the records of its examination in the archives. The first sister to enter was warded as strongly as she could be, since no one knew what it would do. She kept her memories, and she channeled the One Power when she was threatened. And she came out with her abilities burned to nothing, unable to channel, unable even to sense the True Source. The second to go in was also warded, and she, too, was destroyed in the same way. The third went unprotected, remembered nothing once she was inside, and returned unharmed. That is one reason why we send you completely unprotected. Nynaeve, you must not channel inside the ter'angreal again. I know it is hard to remember anything, but try."
Nynaeve swallowed. She could remember everything, could remember not remembering. "I won't channel," she said. If I can remember not to. She wanted to laugh hysterically.
They had reached the next arch. The glow still filled them all. Sheriam gave Nynaeve a last warning look, and left her standing alone.
"The second time is for what is. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast."
Nynaeve stared at the shining silver arch. What is in there this time? The others were waiting, watching. She stepped firmly through into the light. Nynaeve stared down at the plain brown dress she wore with surprise, then gave a start. Why was she staring at her own dress? The way back will come but once.