A clash of magic at the Eye of the World
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
rand's mouth dried like dust. His tongue felt as shriveled as a joiner. The edge of the precipice graded under his heels. Stones falling away. He did not dare look back, but he heard the rocks were bounding and rebounding from the sheer wall, just as his body would if he removed another inch. His skin crawled until he thought he must see it writhing. If he looked, if he could only take his eyes off of the forsaken, there has to be some way to get away from him, some way to escape. There has to be some way. Suddenly he felt something. Saw it, though he knew it was not there to see a glowing rope ran off from a goner behind him, white like the sunlight seen through the purest cloud heavier than a blacksmith's arm, lighter than air connecting the forsaken to something distant beyond knowing something within the touch of rand's hand. The rope pulsed, and with every throb agin or grew stronger, more fully fleshed. A man as tall and strong as himself, a man harder than the warder, more deadly than the blight! Yet besides that shining cord the forsaken seemed almost not to exist. The cord was all. It hummed. It sang. It called, ran soul. One bright finger strand lifted away, drifted, touched him, and he gasped. Light filled him, and heat that should have burned, yet only warmed as if it took the chill. The grave away from his bones. The strand thickened. I have to get away! No! Shouted. You shall not have it! It is mine rand did not move, and neither did the forsaken yet they fought as surely as if they grappled in the dust, sweat beaded on a Jenner's face. No longer withered, no longer old, that of a strong man in his prime ran to pulse with a beating in the cord, like the heartbeat of the world. It filled his being. Light, filled his mind to only a corner is left for what was himself. He wrapped the void around that nook, sheltered in the emptiness. Away mine cried mine. Warmth! Built in rand the warmth of the sun, the radiance of the sun bursting the awful radiance of light of the light away mine, flames shot from a general's mouth broke through his eyes, exp ears of fire, and he screamed away and rand was no longer on the hilltop. He quivered with light that suffused him. His mind would not work. Light and heat blinded him. The light in the midst of the void, The light blinded his mind, stunned him with awe. He stood in a broad mountain pass, surrounded by jagged black peaks, like the teeth of the Dark one. It was real! He was there! He felt the rocks under his boots, the icy breeze on his face. Battle surrounded him, or the tail end of battle, armored men and armored horses shining seal, dusty, now slashed and stabbed snarling trawl IX that we spiked axes and scythes like swords. Some men fought a foot, their horses down and bartered horses galloped through the fight with empty saddles fades moved among them all night. Black cloaks hanging still, however, their dark mounts galloped, and wherever they're light eating swords swung, men died, sound, beat, it, rand, beat at him, and bounced from the strangers that had him by the throat, the clash of steel against steel, the panting of grunting men in tropic striving, the screams of men and try Alex dying over the din. Banners waved and dust filled air. The Blackhawk of foul dara, the white heart of shine are others, and trollop banners. In just a little space around him he saw the horn skull, the devil, the blood red trident of the COBOL and the iron First of the Diamond. Yet it was indeed the tail end of battle, a pausing as humans and trollope's alike fell back to regroup. None seemed to notice, ran as they paid a few less strokes and broke away, galloping, or running in a stagger to the ends of the past rand, found himself facing the end of the past, where the humans were reforming pennants, stirring beneath gleaming lance points, wounded men wavered in their saddles, riderless horses reared and galloped plainly that he could not stand another meeting yet, just as plainly they ready themselves for one final charge. Some of them saw him now. Men stood in their stirrups to point at him. Their shouts came to him as a tiny piping