The great hunt by Robert Jordan EPUB & PDF

The great hunt by Robert Jordan EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

• Status: Available for Free Download
• Author: Robert Jordan
• Language: English
• Genre: Sword & Sorcery Fantasy
• Format: PDF / EPUB
• Size: 2 MB
• Price: Free

The Flame of Tar Valon
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass leaving memories that
become legend, then fade to myth, and are long forgot when that Age
comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to
come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Dhoom. The wind
was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the
turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

Born among black, knife-edged peaks, where death roamed the high
passes yet hid from things still more dangerous, the wind blew south across
the tangled forest of the Great Blight, a forest tainted and twisted by the
touch of the Dark One. The sickly sweet smell of corruption faded by the
time the wind crossed that invisible line men called the border of Shienar,
where spring flowers hung thick in the trees. It should have been summer
by now, but spring had been late in coming, and the land had run wild to
catch up. New-come pale green bristled on every bush, and red new growth
tipped every tree branch. The wind rippled farmers’ fields like verdant
ponds, solid with crops that almost seemed to creep upward visibly.

The smell of death was all but gone long before the wind reached the
stone-walled town of Fal Dara on its hills, and whipped around a tower of
the fortress in the very center of the town, a tower atop which two men
seemed to dance. Hard-walled and high, Fal Dara, both keep and town,
never taken, never betrayed. The wind moaned across wood-shingled
rooftops, around tall stone chimneys and taller towers, moaned like a dirge.
Stripped to the waist, Rand al’Thor shivered at the wind’s cold caress,
and his fingers flexed on the long hilt of the practice sword he held.

The hot
sun had slicked his chest, and his dark, reddish hair clung to his head in a
sweat-curled mat. A faint odor in the swirl of air made his nose twitch, but
he did not connect the smell with the image of an old grave fresh-opened
that flashed through his head. He was barely aware of odor or image at all;
he strove to keep his mind empty, but the other man sharing the tower top
with him kept intruding on the emptiness. Ten paces across, the tower top
was, encircled by a chest-high, crenellated wall. Big enough and more not
to feel crowded, except when shared with a Warder.

Young as he was, Rand was taller than most men, but Lan stood just as
tall and more heavily muscled, if not quite so broad in the shoulders. A
narrow band of braided leather held the Warder’s long hair back from his
face, a face that seemed made from stony planes and angles, a face unlined
as if to belie the tinge of gray at his temples. Despite the heat and exertion,
only a light coat of sweat glistened on his chest and arms. Rand searched
Lan’s icy blue eyes, hunting for some hint of what the other man intended.

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