Demandred closed his eyes. Gawyn smiled, then thrust in Black Lance’s Last Strike.
Demandred’s sword became a blur.
Something struck Gawyn. He gasped, pulling to a stop. He wobbled and fell to his knees, looking down at a hole in his gut. Demandred had thrust straight through the mail, then pulled his sword free in a single fluid motion.
Why can’t . . . why can’t I feel anything?
"If you do survive this and see Lews Therin", Demandred said, "tell him I am very much looking forward to a match between the two of us, sword against sword. I have improved since we last met".
Demandred whipped his sword around, catching the back of the blade in the crook between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled the sword across, stripping the blood from the steel and splattering it to the ground.
He slid the weapon into his sheath. He shook his head, then released a ball of fire toward a still-firing dragon.
It fell silent. Demandred strode away along the edge of the steep slope facing the river, his Sharan guard forming around him. Gawyn collapsed to the ground, stunned, spurting his life onto the burned grass. He tried to hold in the blood through trembling fingers.
Somehow Gawyn managed to push himself up to his knees. His heart cried out; he needed to return to Egwene. He began to crawl, blood mixing with the earth beneath him as it seeped from his wound. Through eyes clouded with cold perspiration, he spotted several cavalry mounts twenty paces ahead, poking at blackened tufts of grass at their feet and tethered to a picket-line. After minutes of struggle, an impossible interval of time that left him drained, he pulled himself up on to the back of the first horse he could reach and untether. Gawyn hunched over, dazed, grasping its mane in one hand. Summoning his remaining strength, he kicked his heel into the animal’s rib cage.
"My Lady", Mandevwin said to Faile, "I have known those two men for years! They are not without a few spots in their past. No man comes to the Band without a few of those. But, Light provide, they are not Darkfriends!"
Faile ate her midday rations in silence, listening with as much patience as she could muster to Mandevwin’s protests. She wished Perrin were here so she could have a good argument. She felt as if she would burst from pressure.
They were close to Thakan’dar, horribly close. The black sky rumbled with lightning, and they hadn’t seen a living creature—dangerous or not—in days. Nor had they seen Vanin or Harnan again, though Faile set a double guard each night. The minions of the Dark One did not give up.
She now carried the Horn in a large bag tied to her waist. The others knew it, and moved between pride in their duty and horror at the import of it. At least she shared that with them now.
"My Lady", Mandevwin said, kneeling down. "Vanin is out there nearby somewhere. He is a very gifted scout, the best in the Band. We will not see him unless he wants us to, but I would swear that he is following us. Where else would he go? Perhaps if I call out to him, invite him in to tell his story, so we can resolve this".
"I will consider it, Mandevwin", Faile said.
He nodded. The one-eyed man was a good commander, but had the imagination of a brick. Uncomplicated men assumed others to have uncomplicated motivations, and he could not imagine someone like Vanin or Harnan helping the Band for so long—under orders, undoubtedly, to avoid suspicion—only to now do something so terrible.
At least now she knew that she hadn’t been worried without cause. That look of pure terror in Vanin’s eyes when he’d been caught was confirmation enough, if catching him with the Horn in his hands hadn’t been. She had not expected two Darkfriends, and they had outsmarted her in their thievery. However, they had also underestimated the dangers of the Blight. She hated to think what would have happened if they hadn’t drawn the attention of the bear-thing. Faile would have remained in her tent, anticipating the arrival of thieves who had already disappeared with one of the most powerful artifacts in the world.
The sky rumbled. Dark Shayol Ghul loomed ahead, rising out of the valley of Thakan’dar in a range of smaller mountains. The air had grown chill, almost wintery. Reaching that peak would be difficult—but one way or another, she was going to bring this Horn to the forces of the Light for the Last Battle. She rested her fingers on the sack at her side, feeling the metal within.
Nearby, Olver scampered across the lifeless gray rock of the Blasted Lands, wearing his knife at his belt like a sword. Perhaps she should not have brought him. Then again, boys his age in the Borderlands learned to run messages and carry supplies to besieged forts. They wouldn’t go out with a war band or be given a post until they were at least twelve, but their training started much earlier.
"My Lady?"
Faile looked toward Selande and Arrela as they approached. Faile had put Selande in charge of the scouts, now that Vanin had revealed himself. The pale little woman looked less like an Aiel than many of the others in Cha Faile. But the attitude helped.
"Yes?"
"Movement, my Lady", Selande said softly.
"What?" Faile stood. "What kind?"
"Some kind of caravan".
"In the Blasted Lands?" Faile asked. "Show me".
It wasn’t just a caravan. There was a village out there. Faile could make it out through the looking glass, though only as a smudge of darkness to indicate buildings. It was settled into the foothills near Thakan’dar. A village. Light!
Faile moved the looking glass down to where a caravan crept across the bleak landscape, heading toward a supply station set up a good distance outside the village.
"They’re doing what we did", she whispered.
"What’s that, my Lady?" Arrela lay on her stomach beside Faile. Mandevwin was on her other side, peering through his own looking glass.
"It’s a central supply station", Faile explained, looking over the stacks of boxes and bundles of arrows. "Shadowspawn can’t move through gateways, but their supplies can. They needn’t have carried arrows and replacement weapons as part of the invasion. Instead, the supplies are being collected here, then sent to the battlefields when needed".
Indeed, down below, a ribbon of light announced a gateway opening. A large train of dirty-looking men trudged through it with packs on their backs, followed by dozens of others pulling small carts.
"Wherever those supplies are going", Faile said slowly, "there will be fighting nearby. Those carts carry arrows, but no food, as the Trollocs are dragging corpses away to feast on each night".
"So if we could slip through one of those gateways . ". Mandevwin said.
Arrela snorted, as if the conversation were a joke. She looked at Faile, and the smile slipped from her lips. "You’re serious. Both of you".
"We are still a long hike from Thakan’dar", Faile said. "And that village blocks our way. It might be easier to sneak through one of those gateways than try to work our way into the valley".
"We’d end up behind the enemy lines!"
"We're already behind their lines", Faile said grimly, "so nothing would change there".
Arrela fell silent.
"That will be a problem", Mandevwin said softly, turning his looking glass. "Look at the fellows approaching the camp from the village".
Faile raised her looking glass again. "Aiel?" she whispered. "Light! The Shaido have joined with the forces of the Dark One?"
"Even the Shaido dogs would not do that", Arrela said, then spat to the side.
The newcomers did look different. They wore their veils up, as if for killing, but the veils were red. Either way, sneaking past Aiel would be nearly impossible. Likely, only the fact that her group was so distant had saved them from discovery. That, and the fact that no one would expect to find a group like Faile’s here.
"Back", Faile said, inching back down the hillside. "We need to do some planning".
Perrin awoke, feeling as if he had been tossed into a lake during winter. He gasped.
"Lie down, you fool", Janina said, putting her hand on his arm. The flaxen-haired Wise One looked as exhausted as he felt.
He was in someplace soft. Too soft. A nice bed, clean sheets. Outside the windows, waves broke gently against a shore and gulls called. He also heard moans echoing from some place nearby.
"Where am I?" Perrin asked.
"At my palace", Berelain said. She stood near the doorway, and he hadn’t noticed her before. The First wore her diadem, the hawk in flight, and had on a crimson dress with yellow trim. The room was lavish, with gold and bronze on the mirrors, windows and bedposts.
"I might add", Berelain said, "that this is a somewhat familiar situation for me, Lord Aybara. I took precautions this time, in case you were wondering".
Precautions? Perrin sniffed the air. Uno? He could smell the man. Indeed, Berelain nodded to the side, and Perrin turned to find Uno sitting in a chair nearby, his arm in a sling.
"Uno! What happened to you?" Perrin asked.
"Bloody Trollocs happened to me", Uno grumbled. "Waiting my turn for Healing".
"Those with life-threatening wounds are Healed first", Janina said. She was the most accomplished of the Wise Ones at Healing; she’d apparently decided to stay with the Aes Sedai and Berelain. "You, Perrin Aybara, were Healed to the point of survival. Only just to the point of survival. It wasn’t until now that we could take care of the wounds that did not threaten your life".
"Wait!" Perrin said. He struggled to sit. Light, he was exhausted. "How long have I been here?"
"Ten hours", Berelain said.
"Ten hours! I have to go. The fighting . . ".
"The fighting will continue without you", Berelain said. "I’m sorry". Perrin growled softly. So tired. "Moiraine knew a method of wiping away a man’s fatigue. Do you know this, Janina?"
"I wouldn’t do it for you if I did", Janina said. "You need sleep, Perrin Aybara. Your participation in the Last Battle is over".
Perrin gritted his teeth, then moved to stand.
"Step out of that bed", Janina said, turning her eyes toward him, "and I’ll bundle you in Air and leave you hanging there for hours".
Perrin’s first instinct was to shift away. He began forming the thought in his head, and felt foolish. He’d somehow returned to the real world. He couldn’t shift here. He was as helpless as a babe.
He leaned back in his bed, frustrated.
"Be of good cheer, Perrin", Berelain said softly, walking up to the bed. "You should be dead. How did you reach that battlefield? If Haral Luhhan and his men hadn’t spotted you lying there . ".
Perrin shook his head. What he’d done defied explanation for one who did not know the wolf dream. "What is happening, Berelain? The war? Our armies?"
She pursed her lips.
"I can smell the truth on you", Perrin said. "Worry, anxiety". He sighed. "I saw that the battlefronts had moved. If the Two Rivers men are at the Field of Merrilor as well, all three of our armies have been pushed back to the same place. Everyone but those at Thakan’dar".