The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan
"A king of sheep!" Mat hooted. He was smaller than the others, always bouncing on his toes. One glance at his face, and you knew he was looking for mischief. He always looked for mischief. And usually found it. "Rand al’Thor, King of the Sheep." Lem snickered. Ban punched him on the shoulder, and Lem punched Ban back, and then they both snickered. Egwene shook her head.
But the Light had a leader who would never give up, a man called Lews Therin Telamon. The Dragon.
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth 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 Mist. 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.
Updated: Oct 28, 2021
With himself and his stallion, Mandarb—he said it meant "Blade" in the Old Tongue—he was not so sparing. The Warder covered twice as much ground as they did, galloping ahead, his color-shifting cloak swirling in the wind, to scout what lay before them, or dropping behind to examine their backtrail.
Updated: Oct 28, 2021
"Yes, that’s the way of your kind, isn’t it?" The Ogier’s voice changed, as if he were quoting something. "Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath, to spit in Sightblinder’s eye on the Last Day." Loial cocked his shaggy head expectantly, but Rand had no idea what it was he expected.
"The rose petal floats on water," Lan recited softly. "The kingfisher flashes above the pond. Life and beauty swirl in the midst of death." "Yes," Agelmar said. "Yes. That one has always symbolized the whole of it to me, too." The two men bowed their heads to one another.
Updated: May 23, 2022
This far below Emond’s Field, halfway to the Waterwood, trees lined the banks of the Winespring Water.