Eriold awoke staring into a bleak darkness with stone paths above him that were originally suspended by saidin after the Breaking of The World. Light, he felt as if the Dark One laid hidden in The Ways rather than in Shayon Ghul. He had been feeling quite uneasy since he had passed through the Waygate. By the way everybody else looked, he wasn't the only one. Everyone save Rosaberle and Tres were nervous, but the Aes Sedai had a slight rigidness and uncertainty. Light, his teacher was the only one that was completely unafraid.

            Even with the limp, Tres moved with the grace of any swordsman. The old man didn't seem to even mind The Ways. Eriold had beaten Tres many times in sword practice, but he had the feeling that the old man was tough enough to take on a Myddraal alone. Perhaps even more than one. A chilling thought when it was pure luck and instinct that let Eriold kill the Myddraal earlier. Light, he would freeze up in an instant if he had to face that eyeless gaze again.

            Tres seemed to never be worried about anything. The Ways never shook him. All of the bleak darkness affected the old man as if it were fields and forests. He wasn't swayed by anything. Even faced with a dead Myddraal and a group of perhaps twenty or more untouched, dead Trollocs, all Tres did was strap on his sword and dragged the bodies into a pile to burn them into ashes. He asked no questions and only focused on his new task. The old man was fearless and surprised by nothing.

            Rosaberle would spend most of her time scowling at just about everybody and everything except her horse. Light, the woman was beyond beautiful when she smiled, but that rarely happened these days. To expect her to smile in The Ways was to expect the moon to rise and fall twice in one night. It may be an impossibility, but it was a nice thought even if she wouldn't be smiling at him. He knew that she held some distaste for him because of leading her leagues away from her goal to bring him to Tar Valon, but he still wanted her favor.

            Then there was Myria. The poor girl had been afraid of The Ways since they all entered those many hours ago. At times, she would hold onto him and shiver. He calmed her down nearly hourly, but he was glad that she came to him for comfort. Eriold felt like shivering himself sometimes, but he let some of the confidence he fed her seep into his own mind. She was a great help to let him keep his cool, and it did help that she was beautiful as well. He felt sorry about letting her come along on the trip at first, but she served as a strong-willed buffer between himself and the Aes Sedai.

            The Ogier seemed to be the most afraid of the group. That much surprised Eriold as Noael agreed to lead them into The Ways in the first place. The Ogier's ears twitched nervously whenever he looked about as if Trollocs were going to burst from the vast depths of darkness. Perhaps they would, too... The Ogier would murmur under his breath whenever he stoped to read sings and choose the next path. Eriold caught the word "Trolloc" more than once from Noael's low murmurs. Light, if there were Trollocs here, how could they fight on these crumbling pathways?

            Eriold's brain responded swiftly by flashing hundreds of different scenarios of how the Trollocs could ambush them. More scenarios exploded from the first to show how he could fight them without getting so much as a scratch. All of the fights in his head would blur and split off, changing the Trollocs to various ages or sizes, holding various weapons, or using various targets as a focus. Eventually, they were blurring and splitting so fast that he thought his head would explode! Light, the mere thought of moving that fast made his head feel like it were about to snap off!

            He stumbled as new scenarios seared his mind. Failures. All of the scenes were failures. Tres would die first at times. Other times, Myria's scream of fear or warning would cut short. Rosaberle always died with pure defiance, channelling the One Power into weak, almost-sickly balls of flame. Noael normally got in a good hit on one or two Trollocs before getting a spear pierced through him for his trouble. It sickened Eriold to think of his companions dying, and it saddened him that he knew the scenarios to all be very possible.

            And that was when he noticed that everyone was looking at him. Somewhere, in his mind heavy with thought and horrible visions, he stopped walking. With the way the concerned faces were looking at him, he must have been standing still for a while. Well, not all of the looks were concerned. Rosaberle's disdainful gaze was a similar to that of a farmer trying to decide whether the prize horse was too sick to pull a cart or not- and if the poor animal should be put down.

"Lord Eriold? Are you feeling ill?" Asked Myria, her beautiful face creased in worry. "Oh, I think we should stop to rest again. I think that he may be having one of his spells again."

            One of his what?! Eriold almost gritted his teeth in embarassment. Light! The girl is treating me as if I were with child!

            He knew that Myria meant well with her choice of words. He had terrible headache pains every other day or so. He shook his head and wiped a cold sweat from his brow. Sweat? He was sweating? The scenarios that were still flashing in his head must have caused it. He hoped that was the reason and not the eerie, icy chill in his bones.

            They continued on until they came to a stop in front of a large wall of stone and metal. It looked much different from the intricately carved stone wall of the Avendesora. The wall was relatively new and clean for it to be as old as the Ogier stonework. It almost looked man-made.
"This had to have been made by the Shienarians within the past two years," continued Tres in a conversation that Eriold had just started paying attention to. "It looks to be a temporary job. It should be replaced by Ogier masonry within four years."

"Why so long?" Asked Myria whilst touching the wall. "This wall can't be too hard for the Ogier to replace, can it?"

"A long time for you and me, but remember the long lifespan of the Ogier." Said the old blademaster as he examined the wall. "There is no way to open this wall like the others. If we get to the other side, we will be in Shienar... We should break it down. Noael! You, Lord Eriold, and I will start wearing it down. If we are lucky, we may get to the other side in one to three hours."

            A low panting of a large creature was heard from off into the shadows. Tres gritted his teeth and half-growled, "Trollocs!"

            Then, the slaughter began.