Read the book The Coming Storm online. The Coming Storm read online What does a storm mean?

Robert Jordan is a whole era. You may not like the wheel of time, but it is pointless to deny the existence of such a complex and integral world. Therefore, it is natural that even the death of the creator of this saga is not an obstacle to its long-awaited completion.

The Wheel of Time is famous for its "Tairien carpets", "smoothing of skirts" and other details that are the subject of sarcastic jokes among those who have read the saga. All readers remember very well how the heroes could easily spend a couple of books hanging around in the rakhada, hunting for the cup of winds, or sitting in the camp of the rebels, or a string of third-rate characters creating flavor. There's no time for that in the Gathering Storm. Reading Gathering Storm is more like the raging torrent of Saidin than the steady flow of Saidar.

The end is near. And this is clearly seen throughout the book. The end is merciless. Don't be intimidated by the size of the Gathering Storm. The wheel spins as if all the squirrels and hamsters in the world are spinning it. Just in case it breaks from its fastenings. Moreover, the main characters are close to the same outcome; they are ready to literally boil over from the vows and debts that have fallen upon them.

This is most clearly seen in the example of Rand. If in the last parts of the story al Thor was given at most a couple of chapters, then here his line is dominant. The dragon is shown to us in all its madness. Rand's metamorphosis from sheep shepherd to reborn dragon is complete. After going through great trials and dangers, he came to the final battle. But with what?

The prophecies do not help him understand the essence of the necessary actions; Min and his entourage in the person of the omnipresent Cadsuane Sedai only aggravate the situation. The whole world is on his shoulders, but he doesn’t even crave salvation. But who dares to challenge the Dragon's decisions? Those who are undesirable can be taught with destructive fire. The same Seanchan are literally begging to be burned out of the pattern.

We haven't seen Rand like this for a long time. He feels Moiraine's lack acutely. Her name burns first on the list of women who died for him. He once swore not to raise his hand against a woman, but the Dragon is a dragon because he destroys all previously made vows...or does he destroy himself? Rand has left the crossroads of twilight, but is this a step forward, or is Rand, like a fisherman, walking blindfolded in someone else's party?

But Egwene seems to know where she is going. Shaoil Gula's walls would be hammered with the confidence of this girl. The dark one himself will ask for mercy. The pursuit of Amyrlinness was not an idle destiny even in more prosperous years, but now you will think a hundred times whether it is necessary. But thank the light, Egwene does not give up. Siuan raised the rebellious Amyrlin well. Three oaths are not an empty phrase for her, but the unity of all ayyas is task number one.

Isn't all this too late? Isn't it too late storylines woven into the final pattern? And what lines of weaving are abruptly ended at the same time? Is this really necessary? Well, the final weaving turns out to be more than contradictory.

In the White Tower they say that by the way an Aes Sedai weaves streams, one can determine who owns the weave and the identity of the mentor. We're not in Tar Valon, so it's hard to say whether it's Sanderson's fault that the book is so dynamic, or Harriet's influence. It remains to remember Jordan’s favorite saying “RAFO” (read and find out). There is nothing else left, read and find out.

Rating: 9

An angry attack is a little off topic... It relates not to the content, but to the publishing process.

As I understand it, AST decided to stop publishing books? Have you refocused on the production of napkins and toilet paper? Although they had produced napkins before... But until now, the text of books was still printed on these napkins, albeit with crappy translations and typos, but still... And now that’s it, won’t readers get a paper version of “The Tempest”? Didn't Jordan deserve to have his series published in full? Low bow to Samizdat and the Citadel of the Children of Light! Let AST be ashamed! But, unfortunately, I have no chance of purchasing one of 20 copies, especially considering that I am not in the CIS. I can only purchase books that reach stores outside the CIS or online stores that send goods abroad. Does anyone know what's going on with AST?

Rating: no

Being a big fan of Robert Jordan’s work and finishing reading the Knife of Dreams (finally purchased at the end of 2009 after many years of waiting), I accidentally learned about the death of the brilliant Writer in September 2007, which became a real blow for me and plunged me into despondency. Over the years of getting to know the world of the Wheel of Time and sleepless nights reading books, the heroes of this legendary saga and its Author have become excellent friends for me, whom I never want to part with. And the information that a certain Brandon Sanderson will be finishing this Legendary Epic Cycle did not make me particularly happy. I was sure that the Wheel was broken and there was no one else to resist Shai "ethan in the endless struggle for the existence of the world. And the Prince of the Morning would no longer sing about green grass and valleys filled with lambs. And the hand of the Lord of Dawn would no longer cover us from Darkness and the great Sword of Justice will not protect us. The Dragon will no longer rise on the winds of Time...

In 2011, having finally become the owner of a laptop and the Internet, and accidentally discovering FantLab, I was pleasantly surprised by the laudatory reviews that fans of the Wheel of Time bestowed on Sanderson. Without delay, I downloaded the Russian translations of The Coming Storm and the Towers of Midnight onto my PC - many thanks to the translators of the site Citadel of the Children of Light - and wanted to print the text on a printer, but could not resist and started reading directly from the laptop screen.

Two sleepless nights and the Coming Storm has been read!:smile:

I join in the praise directed at Brandon Sanderson. The co-author worthily continued the colossal work of Robert Jordan. It is clear that the text is based on the author’s original drafts. But it’s worth keeping in mind that this is still not Robert Jordan! A small question is raised by the storyline of my favorite hero Matrim-blood-and-cursed-ash-Cawthon, which generally does not spoil the overall impression of the book. The atmosphere of the novel is conveyed very well. And so on and so forth... As for the Towers of Midnight - the book is even more interesting! But that's a completely different story...

P.S.: It would be great if Sanderson, having completed Memory of Light, would begin to write the prehistory of Moiraine and Lan, begun by the prequel novel New Spring, or would tell us, for example, the life story of Jain Charin the Far-Walker. I really liked the story of the life and confrontation between Arthur Hawkwing and the False Dragon Gwaiar Amalasan in the Guide to the World of the Wheel and it would be great if Sanderson created something similar.

The simple reader can only hope and look forward to the next turn of the Wheel of Time.

The legendary epic cycle is almost finished!

Rating: 9

A new book from the cycle just a song for the soul. After the last three dull books, where almost nothing happened, drive and action finally appeared. Long descriptions, of course, they haven’t gone away, but there are noticeably fewer of them and they have lost a lot of weight. In general, the narrative style has not changed much and the book is quite compatible with the previous ones (if you do not pay attention to the accelerated pace). Although, of course, the moment from which Sanderson began writing is immediately obvious. This is a change in Rand's character and his attitude towards women. And in general, in general, the attitude towards women has changed somewhat to a less servile one.

But these are all little things that you pay attention to, but which do not play a special role. Yes, the rapid movement towards the end is somewhat discouraging (although it was inevitable), but nevertheless the storylines unfold quite logically and interestingly. No leaks or failures. Egwene's line is generally beyond praise. She made me spend the whole day reading the book and giving it the highest possible grade. Although some moves turned out to be predictable, and some things were exactly what the fans expected to see.

Overall, it turned out to be a quite worthy continuation of the cycle. Maybe even better than Jordan could have done. Those who stopped reading the series at book 7-8 may well resume reading just for this novel alone.

Rating: 10

The task set before Sanderson was almost impossible. Even if we leave aside the burden of responsibility - the expectations of fans of the series - he inherited complete chaos. Of the three male lines, only Mat’s story looked more or less logical and complete. Perrin was hopelessly lost in self-analysis and desperate attempts to subdue the Prophet (in other words, he failed the task), and with Rand the author himself seemed to not know what to do next. Unfortunately, there was never any internal character development strong point Jordana. He is interested in thinking through the details of clothing, customs, life, etc., describing political intrigues, but people interest him much less. Once he came up with a set of really bright characters, he fixed them. Yes, someone falls in love, someone becomes more confident or rude, but no one has experienced any significant qualitative changes over the course of 9 volumes. This is critical for Rand’s line: the frightened son of a shepherd, as he was brought out in the first volume, is not able to save the world from the Great Ancient Evil, the reader will not believe it. Jordan took the "becoming of the Chosen One" as the basis of the plot, but was not able to clearly describe it. The first volumes of the series turned into a quest to fulfill ancient prophecies, but the moment has come when changes must occur within the hero. And the series stalled.

Sanderson got the hero, almost crushed and cornered. First, he was deprived of the right to personality: he has value only as the reincarnation of an ancient magician (and a mad one at that). Then he finds out that he must pay to win last battle life. And all this against the backdrop of absolute loneliness. Victory over evil at the cost of the blood of the Chosen One is an old story, but usually there are those who appreciate this sacrifice. And poor Rand was placed in a world where everyone around him was only concerned with how to control him and make him an instrument of their politics. He is unable to come to terms with the fact that he is sentenced to death - and he is reprimanded for his bad manners. He founded schools to leave a good memory, but the woman he loved rushes to take credit for herself and erase his name. And so on.

The crisis is aggravated by the fact that in Jordan's world Good does not exist as an independent force. There is Evil, but there is no Good. The Abstract Creator once launched the Wheel and withdrew. There are no religions either, none. People pray to the Light in their souls and swear by the Light, but this is a figure of speech. At least, the author does not give the slightest hint what kind of Power this is. The chosen one has the right to doubt whether it is even worth giving his life for this world of small people with their petty passions and ambitions.

In my opinion, Sanderson performed a small miracle. Having received such an inheritance, he was able to lead the heroes - Rand in the first place - out of the deadlock. It is much more difficult to write about the Light than about the spawn of darkness: it is too easy to slip into stereotypes (for Gandalf or Aragorn) or into moralizing. Sanderson did not slip and finally managed to give the series a positive hero. Moreover, the entire process of overcoming and transformation is given from the inside through the eyes of Rand, and you want to believe him. The next novel, Towers of Midnight, will be full of this light.

Yes, and that's the problem Good Power will also be solved, and very elegantly. The world itself is good - a pattern in Jordan's terminology. He is not intelligent in our understanding and does not communicate with individuals, but he is trying with all his might to expel Evil from himself, just as a living organism rejects foreign body. This is somewhat speculation - Sanderson keeps the author's voice to a minimum and does not like to go into theory, but pushes the reader towards such an understanding. Then any oddities and tensions make sense. And it becomes clear what exactly happened to Rand.

Rating: 10

With each new volume, Jordan makes the world of the Wheel of Time darker and darker. Now even the name tells us about it, not only does it tell us, but it screams - a storm is coming ahead. Robert very cleverly places questions, focusing on the approaching Tarmon Gaidon. And it is no longer weevils and food spoilage that indicate this. Perhaps this is most clearly demonstrated by the changes that are happening to Rand. He withdraws more and more into himself, and Lews Therin annoys him more and more with his madness. And Rand is becoming increasingly harsher towards those who are nearby, towards those who support him both on a clear day and in a storm. And if this was a novel about only one Dragon Reborn, if it were a little darker, it would be a fierce dark fantasy. But no. Everything is a little different.

And here it is necessary to say about Egwene. How she fights Elaida and the White Tower is a different story. Young Throne The Amyrlin versus the presumptuous Red is a fight to be admired. About a third of the way through the book, a significant moment took place - Egwene narrowly won against a more experienced opponent. But this victory is nothing if you forget every day of al-Vir’s struggle.

The stories of Matt and Perrin as a whole do not stand out from what Jordan previously presented. Maybe Kouta has more pages in this volume than Aibara. Plus, Matt's adventures will be a little more interesting. Just look at the “curfew” story. It’s a little frustrating that the topic with the Genja Tower is not developing at all. A couple of mentions and “later” is all that will befall this mystery. I want more. I hope that at least in the next book Robert will pay attention to the Tower. But, finally, there was movement along Black Aya. And very strong.

I would like to note the siege of Tar Valon by the Raken. The way Egwene resisted the Seanchan is amazing. Indeed, this woman has an inexhaustible will.

Overall: a very sensible continuation, gloomy, dark. Shayon Gul is getting closer and closer.

Rating: 9

Well, Tarmon Gaidon is about to begin.

Sanderson's influence is great. He smoothed out some of the angularity of Jordan's style. Everything became a little softer. It's nice.

On the other hand, one feels that the book remains Jordanian - there are no failures in the text, the plot lines are neatly raised and tied to the main narrative. The story is told with the same meticulousness, we are also told in detail what the heroes ate, what they drank and what they wore. Without this, obviously, it is no longer possible - as the Wheel of Time began, so it must end.

What is very good is that Jordan and Sanderson do not stray from the path of complicating the tasks they set for the heroes. They don’t play for them - or rather, they do it to the minimum. There is Power - but it is nothing compared to the ability to control it, and this skill is associated with the renunciation of a little of it... and there is also the temptation to master even greater power, all that is needed is to renounce oneself. What is strength without humility? What is strength without pity?

Very few fantasy writers risk plunging into such “wilds.”

I really liked everything that happens with Rand. Egwene's story is told subtly.

In general, the last books in the series seem to be the best. We're waiting, sir.

Rating: 9

The news of Jordan's death made me depressed at the time, since the Dragon Reborn series had long been one of my favorites. I thought that I would never know how the turn of the Wheel would end. And even the news that all the drafts were handed over to a certain Sanderson did not inspire me - I was sure that the writer unknown to me would not be able to follow in the footsteps of RD and would ruin the entire book.

Nevertheless, the news of the completed “Storm” prompted me to frantically repeat in English. Because there is still no translation. So, I was very pleased with the book, despite my skepticism. As already mentioned, it is more eventful than the other books combined. I can’t say anything about the style, since I read the previous books in Russian, but many of the details of the descriptions are very reminiscent of RD.

Those interested, after registration, can familiarize themselves with the amateur translation on the forum of the website wheeloftime.ru

On this moment 34 chapters translated.

Rating: 10

Jordan created one of the greatest fantasy sagas of our time and almost destroyed it with his own hands. The latest books written by Jordan himself are a test of the strength of nerves - the plot does not move forward, but always strives to go sideways or even backwards, there is practically no action (with the volume of books over 900 pages), plus all the characters are constantly smoothing out their clothes, grinding their teeth, spilling wine, etc. The Gathering Storm is like a breath of fresh air, the heroes finally began to behave like people, the tangle of tangled events begins to unravel, and unravel in such a way that what previously seemed like nonsense took on meaning and became logical, intrigue and thriller returned to the saga, for the heroes you start to worry again. Moreover, all this is written in living, figurative language, special thanks to the Citadel of Light for the high-quality translation. In general, if you, like me, stopped reading The Wheel of Time, I advise you to overcome yourself and still finish reading, it’s worth it

Rating: 9

When I found out who would be finishing the epic, I had a desire to evaluate Sanderson based on his own opuses, the impressions were quite good (everything is simple, but there is style and energy - I’m talking about Elantris).

The long-awaited continuation of WOT had to be completed in the original language (the fan translation is moving, but very slowly), which brought a number of new sensations - I recommend it to those who know the language!

The book pleasantly pleased with the abundance of action (which is not surprising), although many questions were not left open (which is also not surprising, there are still a couple of books ahead)!

Without revealing spoilers, I can only say one thing - the reason why you read the entire series is left! Those who, after the first books by the end of the series, began to feel bored, can also rest easy - there is a lot of action, but there is no simplification of the plot lines! At the same time, the excessive (in my opinion) desire to detail everything and everyone disappeared, which also benefited: smile:

Rating: 8

It turned out that only recently I read Knife of Dreams in English (I had been lying around for a long time, but I couldn’t get around to it), the narrative was noticeably invigorated compared to the pair latest books, and then The Gathering Storm came almost without a break! It clearly shows that this is not Santa Barbara after all - the finale, and a rather stormy one, is just around the corner. Long-running storylines come to an end, and in a very dynamic, spectacular manner. There are signs of an equally interesting and exciting “pulling up” in other directions in the two remaining books. In a couple of moments there was a feeling of a somewhat artificial rounding, almost of some line being cut off - but it was the feeling, not the confidence, and overall this did not spoil the impression.

I will refrain from spoilers so as not to tempt those who are unstable in spirit. %-) I personally recommend that everyone who knows at least minimal English read the original - you can calmly forget about the colorful descriptions of dresses with deep necklines and the interiors of the White Tower and focus on the plot and its twists.

By the way, the English-language circulation is 1 million copies. I'm blown away by such commercial success.

Spoiler (plot reveal) (click on it to see)

So, the two preliminary happy endings are:

1) Egwene unites the tower and receives the lists of the black aya. Some of the blacks were executed, some escaped.

Egwene’s supermanship is amazing, and she always considered herself the smartest, but in this case her political activity is simply phenomenally successful, in contrast to the much more seasoned Cadsuane.

2) Rand teams up with Lews Therin and destroys his super weapon(Choidan Kal) for the sake of the exact fulfillment of the prophecy and away from temptation.

PS The episode with Semiragh looks like a too trivial attempt by Moridin to sell the temptation of the True Power. On the other hand, the death of Grendal is quite ambiguous (as it should be, the epic detective remembered: Who killed Asmodean?).

Rating: 9

Well what can I say. There's not much to say. My expectations were more than fully met. This is not Jordan. This is 100% Sanderson.

Yes, this is great fiction. But for all that, the atmosphere of the completed continuation correlates with the original world of the Wheel in approximately the same way as the atmosphere of the original Professor trilogy correlates with Perum’s Ring of Darkness.

Everything here is from Sanderson, except for the names of the characters, and maybe the general line of plot development. Although, without knowing what was in Jordan’s notes, it’s difficult to say for sure. Branded action, in the style of Stormlight, which, amazingly, after a couple of pages begins to make you yawn and feel melancholy. I am generally amazed at his abilities. To describe a bloody battle in such a way that these descriptions can be read instead of sleeping pills before bed? I once thought that this was impossible, but he succeeds. How was he able to achieve this?

In general, the work is good. The story has been written to the end and a full stop has been put in it. It's just a shame that this isn't Jordan's ending. This is a completely independent work, which is written on the basis and motives of the Saga. Fanfiction, albeit executed by a master of his craft and an excellent writer.

Rating: 8

The book received the maximum rating from me, so it turned out that I started reading it immediately after reading the last book written by Robert Jordan.

It’s difficult to describe the feelings when the action started again and what it was like! More happened in the first ten chapters than in the last 3 books. The story of Aigwyn in captivity was beyond praise. I wanted to shout then, “It’s not in vain that I tormented myself with those last few books, it’s not in vain that I went through all that trouble about bows and dresses in the closet. This is the reward!” It is for those emotions that I give the maximum rating. 2 years have passed, and the aftertaste is still pleasant, it’s a pity that you get such emotions from books very, very rarely, and only from those from whom you least expected.

There is a feeling of the plot hastily winding down to the finish line. But most likely this is not Sanderson’s fault, but inevitable costs - after all, the world of the Wheel is colossal. And yet I have a strong feeling that Jordan would have done it less obviously and clumsily. After all, this is a problem of the author's style. It seems that he is always the main thing in the work, and the plot is secondary (unless it is a non-stop action).

But in general, Sandeson’s work did not make me feel disappointed, since I want to read the further development of the finale of “The Wheel of Time”.

Rating: 9

Robert Jordan

The Coming Storm

Prologue. What does storm mean

Renald Fanvar sat on the porch, warming his body against the sturdy black oak chair that his grandson had carved for him two years ago. He was looking north.

On black and silver clouds.

He had never seen anything like it. Piling up in the heights, they covered the entire northern sky. And they weren't gray at all. They were exactly black and silver. The rumbling storm front was as dark as a cellar at midnight. In absolute silence, somewhere in the depths, tearing the clouds apart, silvery lightning flashed.

The air became thick. Thick with the smells of dust and dirt, dry leaves and rain that never fell. Spring came, but the crops never sprouted. Not a single sprout dared to break through the ground.

He slowly rose from his chair - the wood creaked, the chair swayed softly behind him - and walked to the edge of the porch. He clutched the pipe in his teeth, although it had long gone out. He didn't rekindle it. These clouds were mesmerizing. They were so black - like smoke from forest fire, although the smoke from the fire had never risen so high into the sky. How to understand silver clouds? They stuck out between the black ones, like polished steel through the soot that covered it.

He looked around the yard and scratched his chin. A low whitewashed hedge surrounded a patch of grass and bushes. Every single one of them dried up - they were unable to survive this winter. We'll have to root them out soon. As for the grass... well, the grass was still last year's. Not a blade of grass came up.

The thunderclap shocked him. A clean, sharp, seemingly incredible impact of metal on metal. The thunder rattled the windows in the house, shook the porch boards - it seemed to shake to the very bones.

He jumped back. This blow was somewhere nearby - perhaps in his yard. He wanted to go check the damage. A lightning strike can kill a person, or drive him away from the land by burning down his house. Here, in the Borderland, a lot can replace tinder - dry grass, shingles, and even seeds.

But the clouds are still far away. This means that lightning could not strike in his domain. Black and silver clouds rolled in and boiled, feeding and devouring each other.

He closed his eyes, calming down, and took a deep breath. Was it really his imagination? Is he going off the rails, as Gaffin always jokes? He opened his eyes.

And suddenly the clouds were nearby - right above his house.

It looked as if they had suddenly rolled forward, deciding to strike while he was looking away. They now dominated the sky, streaking into the distance in all directions, massive and overwhelming. He could almost physically feel how their weight was compressing the surrounding atmosphere. He inhaled the air, suddenly heavy with moisture, and sweat appeared on his forehead.

The clouds were foaming; blue-black and silver clouds shook from white flashes coming from inside. Suddenly they boiled and poured down directly on him, like the funnel of a tornado. He screamed, raising his hand as if shielding himself from the unbearably bright light. This blackness. This endless, suffocating blackness. She would consume him - he knew it.

And suddenly the clouds disappeared.

The pipe fell onto the porch with a soft thud, scattering ashes down the steps. He didn't notice how he released her. Renald paused, looking up at the clear blue sky, realizing that he was afraid of the emptiness.

The clouds gathered again on the horizon, but now forty leagues away. They rumbled quietly.

With a shaking hand, he picked up the phone. Tanned from years spent in the sun, the hand was stained with age. " It was your imagination, Renald", he said to himself. - " You're going crazy, it's clear as day».

He was on edge about the crops. They were the ones who pushed him to the extreme. Although he tried to cheer up the guys, it came out unnatural. Something should have sprouted by now. He has been plowing this land for forty years! Barley seeds don't need that much time. So that he burns, but he doesn’t need to! What in Lately what's going on with the world? Not only can you not rely on plants, but the clouds do not stay where they are supposed to.

With difficulty he sank back into the chair, as his legs were shaking. " I'm getting old...- he decided.

He worked on the farm all his life. Farming in the Borderlands was not easy, but if you work hard and get a bountiful harvest, you can live well. " The number of seeds you sow, the luck you will receive.", his father kept saying.

Well, Renald was one of the most successful farmers in the area. Business was so good that he was able to buy two neighboring farms, and in the fall he could send thirty carts to the fair. Now he had six people working for him - they plowed the fields and kept order. This did not mean that he did not have to climb into the manure every day and show what the salt of farm work was. You can't let fleeting success go to your head.

Yes, he worked on the land, “lived by the land,” as his father always repeated. And he understood the weather as best he could. These clouds were unusual. They growled quietly, like animals growl in the night - waiting, hiding in the nearby forest.

He jumped when new blow the thunder sounded, it seemed, too close. These clouds were forty leagues from here? Didn't he think so? Rather, if you look closely, it now looks like ten leagues. “Don’t bother yourself,” he muttered under his breath. The sound of my own voice was soothing. Indeed. It's nice to hear something besides this rumble and the occasional creaking of the shutters in the wind. By the way, shouldn't he be able to hear Owain in the house preparing dinner?

Are you tired. That's all. Tired. - He put his hand into his vest pocket and fished out a pouch of tobacco.

A quiet rumble came from the right. At first he thought it was thunder - but the rumble was too sharp and constant. It wasn't thunder. It was the wheels rattling.

And sure enough, a large ox-drawn wagon climbed up the eastern slope of Mallard Hill. Renald came up with the name for the hill himself. Every thing needs a name. The road was called Mallard's Tract - why not name the hill the same?

He leaned forward in his chair, studiously not paying attention to the clouds, and, squinting, tried to look at the driver. Isn't this Tulin? Blacksmith? Why did he load the van almost to the skies? Shouldn't he be forging a new plow for Renald?

Although Tulin was the thinnest of the blacksmith brethren, he still had twice as much muscle as most farmers. He was dark-haired and tanned, like all Shienarans. Also, according to Shienarian custom, he shaved his face, but did not wear a forelock. Tulin could trace his family back to the Borderland warriors, but he himself was an ordinary peasant, like everyone else in the area. He kept a blacksmith shop near Oak Creek, five miles east. Winter evenings Renald and the blacksmith often played with stones with pleasure.

Tulin was approaching. He was younger than Renald, but the last few winters had been difficult, causing him to consider retiring. Blacksmithing does not tolerate old people. Of course, farming too. Is there really any craft suitable for an old man?

Thulin's van rolled along the well-worn country road, approaching Renald's white hedge. " How strange", thought Renald. Behind the wagon was a neat line of animals: five goats and two dairy cows. There were cages of black chickens tied to the outside of the wagon, and the wagon itself was filled with furniture, bales and barrels. Tulin's young daughter, Mirala, sat on the front, next to him and his wife - a golden-haired woman from the south. Gallana had been Tulin's wife for twenty-five years, but Renald still mentally called her “that southern girl.”

The whole family traveled in a van and took with them everything they could. Apparently they are moving. But where? Maybe to relatives? He and Tulin haven’t played a game of stones for... yes, for three weeks. I haven't had much time to visit lately - spring has come and I need to sow. Someone will need to repair plows and sharpen scythes. Who will do this if Thulin's forge is empty?

While Tulin adjusted the van next to the house, Renald filled his pipe with a pinch of tobacco. The thin, gray-haired blacksmith handed the reins to his daughter and jumped off the wagon, kicking up a cloud of dust as his feet touched the ground. A distant thunderstorm was brewing behind him.

Tulin opened the gate and went to the porch. He looked confused. Renald opened his mouth to greet him, but Tulin spoke first.

“I buried my best anvil in the garden bed where Gallana once grew strawberries,” said the tall blacksmith. - You remember where it is, right? I also stored my best tools there. They are well oiled and in my best chest. I bandaged it so it wouldn't get wet. This should protect the tools from rust for a while.

Renald closed his mouth - his pipe remained half full. If Tulin hid the anvil... that means he's not going to return anytime soon.

Tulin, what...

If I don’t come back,” Tulin said, looking north, “Will you dig up my things and make sure they’re taken care of?” Sell them, Renald, to someone who knows a lot about this. I don't want anyone to hit this anvil. You know, I've been collecting these instruments for twenty years.

What does storm mean

Renald Fanvar sat on the porch, warming his body against the sturdy black oak chair that his grandson had carved for him two years ago. He was looking north.

On black and silver clouds.

The air became thick. Thick with the smells of dust and dirt, dry leaves and rain that never fell. Spring came, but the crops never sprouted. Not a single sprout dared to break through the ground.

He slowly rose from his chair—the wood creaked, the chair swayed softly behind him—and walked to the edge of the porch. He clutched the pipe in his teeth, although it had long gone out. He didn't rekindle it. These clouds were mesmerizing. They were so black - like smoke from a forest fire, although smoke from a fire had never risen so high into the sky. How to understand silver clouds? They stuck out between the black ones, like polished steel through the soot that covered it.

But the clouds are still far away. This means that lightning could not strike in his domain. Black and silver clouds rolled in and boiled, feeding and devouring each other.

He closed his eyes, calming down, and took a deep breath. Was it really his imagination? Is he going off the rails, as Gaffin always jokes? He opened his eyes.

And suddenly the clouds were nearby - right above his house.

And suddenly the clouds disappeared.

The clouds gathered again on the horizon, but now forty leagues away. They rumbled quietly.

With a shaking hand, he picked up the phone. Tanned from years spent in the sun, the hand was stained with age. " It was your imagination, Renald", he said to himself. – “ You're going crazy, it's clear as day».

He was on edge about the crops. They were the ones who pushed him to the extreme. Although he tried to cheer up the guys, it came out unnatural. Something should have sprouted by now. He has been plowing this land for forty years! Barley seeds don't need that much time. So that he burns, but he doesn’t need to! What's going on with the world lately? Not only can you not rely on plants, but the clouds do not stay where they are supposed to.

With difficulty he sank back into the chair, as his legs were shaking. " I'm getting old...- he decided.

He jumped when another clap of thunder sounded, seemingly too close. These clouds were forty leagues from here? Didn't he think so? Rather, if you look closely, it now looks like ten leagues. “Don’t bother yourself,” he muttered under his breath. The sound of my own voice was soothing. Indeed. It's nice to hear something besides this rumble and the occasional creaking of the shutters in the wind. By the way, shouldn't he be able to hear Owain in the house preparing dinner?

- Are you tired. That's all. Tired. “He put his hand into his vest pocket and fished out a pouch of tobacco.

A quiet rumble came from the right. At first he thought it was thunder - but the rumble was too sharp and constant. It wasn't thunder. It was the wheels rattling.

Although Tulin was the thinnest of the blacksmith brethren, he still had twice as much muscle as most farmers. He was dark-haired and tanned, like all Shienarans. Also, according to Shienarian custom, he shaved his face, but did not wear a forelock. Tulin could trace his family back to the Borderland warriors, but he himself was an ordinary peasant, like everyone else in the area. He kept a blacksmith shop near Oak Creek, five miles east. On winter evenings, Renald and the blacksmith often enjoyed playing with stones.

Wheel of Time - 12

Prologue. What does storm mean

Renald Fanvar sat on the porch, warming his body against the sturdy black oak chair that his grandson had carved for him two years ago. He was looking north.

On black and silver clouds.

The air became thick. Thick with the smells of dust and dirt, dry leaves and rain that never fell. Spring came, but the crops never sprouted. Not a single sprout dared to break through the ground.

He slowly rose from his chair - the wood creaked, the chair swayed softly behind him - and walked to the edge of the porch. He clutched the pipe in his teeth, although it had long gone out. He didn't rekindle it. These clouds were mesmerizing. They were so black - like smoke from a forest fire, although smoke from a fire had never risen so high into the sky. How to understand silver clouds? They stuck out between the black ones, like polished steel through the soot that covered it.

But the clouds are still far away. This means that lightning could not strike in his domain. Black and silver clouds rolled in and boiled, feeding and devouring each other.

He closed his eyes, calming down, and took a deep breath. Was it really his imagination? Is he going off the rails, as Gaffin always jokes? He opened his eyes.

And suddenly the clouds were nearby - right above his house.

And suddenly the clouds disappeared.

The clouds gathered again on the horizon, but now forty leagues away. They rumbled quietly.

With a shaking hand, he picked up the phone. Tanned from years spent in the sun, the hand was stained with age. “It was your imagination, Renald,” he said to himself. - “You’re going crazy, it’s clear as day.”

He was on edge about the crops. They were the ones who pushed him to the extreme. Although he tried to cheer up the guys, it came out unnatural. Something should have sprouted by now. He has been plowing this land for forty years! Barley seeds don't need that much time. So that he burns, but he doesn’t need to! What's going on with the world lately? Not only can you not rely on plants, but the clouds do not stay where they are supposed to.

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