What would it be like, to lose so much? Birgitte didn’t have a childhood, parents. Her entire life, all she remembered, usually spanned less than a year. Elayne started to go after her, but her guards moved aside to let Galad approach, attired in the armor, tabard and cloak of the Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light.
Elayne tightened her lips. "Galad".
"Sister", Galad said. "I assume that it would be completely futile to inform you how inappropriate it is for a woman in your condition to be on the battlefield".
"If we lose this war, Galad, my children will be born into captivity to the Dark One, if they are born at all. I think fighting is worth the risk".
"So long as you refrain from holding the sword personally", Galad said, shading his eyes to inspect the battlefield. The words implied that he was giving her permission—permission—to lead her troops.
Streaks of light shot from the Heights, striking at the last dragons firing from the field just behind her troops. Such strength! Demandred had power that eclipsed Rand’s. If he turns that power against my troops . . .
"Why would Cauthon bring me down here?" Galad said softly. "He wanted a dozen of my best men . . "
"You’re not asking me to guess the mind of Matrim Cauthon, are you?" Elayne asked. "I’m convinced that Mat only acts simple so that people will let him get away with more".
Galad shook his head. She could see a group of his men gathered nearby. They were pointing toward the Trollocs that were slowly making their way upriver on the Arafellin bank. Elayne realized her right flank was in jeopardy.
"Send for six companies of crossbowmen", Elayne said to Birgitte. "Guybon needs to reinforce our troops upriver".
Light. This is starting to look bad. The White Tower was out there on the west slope of the Heights, where the channeling was most furious. She couldn’t see much of it, but she could feel it.
Smoke billowed over the top of the Heights, lit by splashing explosions of lightning. Like a beast of storm and hunger stirring amid the blackness, its eyes flashing as it woke.
Elayne was suddenly aware. Of the pervasive scent of smoke in the air, the cries of pain from men. Thunder from the sky, trembles in the earth. The cold air resting upon a land that would not grow, the breaking weapons, grinding of pikes against shields. The end. It really had come, and she stood upon its precipice.
A messenger galloped up, bearing an envelope. He gave the proper pass codes to Elayne’s guard, dismounted and was allowed to step up to her and Galad. He addressed Galad, handing the letter to him. "From Lord Cauthon, sir. He said you’d be here".
Galad took the letter and, frowning, opened it. He slipped a sheet of paper from inside.
Elayne waited patiently—patiently—to a count of three, then moved her horse up beside Galad’s mount and craned her neck to read. Honestly, one would think he’d take concern for the comfort of a pregnant woman.
The letter was written in Mat’s hand. And, Elayne noticed with amusement, the handwriting was much neater and the spelling much better in this one than the one he’d sent her weeks ago. Apparently, the pressure of battle made Matrim Cauthon into a better clerk.
Galad,
Not much time to be flowery. You’re the only one I trust with this mission. You’ll do what is right, even when nobody bloody wants you to. The Borderlanders might not have the stomach for this, but I'll bet I can trust a Whitecloak. Take this. Get a gateway from Elayne. Do what has to be done.
Mat
Galad frowned, then upended the envelope, dumping out something silvery. A medallion on a chain. A single Tar Valon mark slid out beside it.
Elayne breathed out, then touched the medallion and channeled. She could not. This was one of the copies she’d made, one of those she’d given Mat. Mellar had stolen another one. "It protects the wearer against channeling", Elayne said. "But why send it to you?"
Galad turned the sheet of paper over, apparently noticing something. Written on the back in a hastier scrawl was, p.s. In case you don’t know what "Do what needs to be done" means, it means that I want you to go bloody slaughter as many of those Sharan channelers as you can. I'll bet you a full Tar Valon mark—it's only been shaved on the sides a little—that you can't kill twenty. —MC
"That’s bloody devious", Elayne breathed out. "Blood and bloody ashes, it is".
"Hardly fitting language for a monarch", Galad said, folding the message and placing it in the pocket of his cloak. He hesitated, then put the medallion around his neck. "I wonder if he knows what he is doing by giving one of the Children an artifact that makes one immune to the touches of the Aes Sedai. The orders are good ones. I will see them carried out".
"You can do it, then?" Elayne asked. "Kill women?"
"Perhaps once I would have hesitated", Galad said, "but that would have been the wrong choice. Women are as fully capable of being evil as men. Why should one hesitate to kill one, but not the other? The Light does not judge one based on gender, but on the merit of the heart".
"Interesting".
"What is interesting?" Galad asked.
"You actually said something that doesn’t make me want to strangle you. Perhaps there is hope for you someday, Galad Damodred".
He frowned. "This is neither the place nor the time for levity, Elayne. You should see to Gareth Bryne. He appears agitated".
She turned, surprised to find the aging general speaking with her guards. "General?" she called to him.
Bryne looked up, then bowed formally from horseback.
"Did my guard stop you?" Elayne asked, as he approached. Had word of Bryne’s Compulsion spread?
"No, Your Majesty", he said. His horse was lathered. He had been riding hard. "I did not wish to bother you personally".
"Something is troubling you", Elayne said. "Out with it".
"Your brother, has he come this way?"
"Gawyn?" she asked, looking to Galad. "I haven’t seen him".
"Nor I", Galad said.
"The Amyrlin was certain he’d be with your forces . . ". Bryne said, shaking his head. "He went to fight on the front lines. Perhaps he came in disguise".
Why would he . . . He was Gawyn. He would want to fight. Yet sneaking to the front lines in disguise didn’t seem like him. He might gather some men loyal to him and lead a few charges. But sneak? Gawyn? It was difficult to imagine.
"I will spread word", Elayne said as Galad bowed to her, then withdrew on his mission. "Perhaps one of my commanders has seen him".
Ah . . . Mat thought, face so close to the maps that it was nearly level with them. Then he waved to the side, having Mika the damane open a gateway. Mat could have Traveled to the top of Dashar Knob to get an overview. However, the last time he had done so, enemy channelers had targeted him, shearing off part of the summit; and, despite being so high, Dashar Knob did not allow him to see everything happening below the western side of Polov Heights. He scrambled over, hands on the lip of the gateway in the table, inspecting the landscape below.
Elayne’s line at the river was being pushed back. They had run archers to their right flank. Good. Blood and bloody ashes . . . those Trollocs had nearly the weight behind them of a cavalry push. He’d need to send word to Elayne to get her cavalry lined up behind the pikes.
Like when I fought Sana Ashraf at the falls of Pena, he thought. Heavy cavalry, horseback archers, heavy cavalry, horseback archers. One after another. Taer’ain dhai hochin dieb sene.
Mat could not remember being this engaged by a battle. The fight against the Shaido had not been nearly so gripping, though Mat had not been leading that battle entirely. The fight against Elbar had not been this satisfying, either. Of course, that had been on a much smaller scale.
Demandred knew how to gamble. Mat could sense it through the movements of troops. Mat was playing against one of the best who had ever lived, and the stake this time was not wealth. They diced for the lives of men, and the final prize was the world itself. Blood and bloody ashes, but that excited him. He did feel guilty about that, but it was exciting.
"Lan is in position", Mat said, straightening up and returning to his maps, making some notations. "Tell him to strike".
The Trolloc army crossing the riverbed by the ruins needed to be crushed. He’d moved the Borderlanders around the Heights to attack their vulnerable rear flanks while Tam and his combined forces continued to pound them from the front. Tam had killed large numbers of them before and after the river had stopped. That Trolloc horde was close to being broken, and a coordinated action on two sides could do it.
Tam’s men would be tired. Could they hold long enough for Lan to arrive and hit the Trollocs from behind? Light, Mat hoped they could. If they didn’t . . .
Someone darkened the doorway of the command position, a tall man with dark, curling hair, wearing the coat of an Asha’man. He had the expression of a man who had just drawn a losing hand. Light. A Trolloc would have found that stare unnerving.
Min, who had been speaking with Tuon, choked off; Logain seemed to have a special glare for her. Mat straightened, dusting off his hands. "I hope you didn’t do anything too nasty to the guards, Logain".
"The weaves of Air will untie on their own in a minute or two", the man said, voice harsh. "I didn’t think they were likely to allow me in".
Mat glanced at Tuon. She had grown stiff as a well-starched apron. Seanchan did not trust women who could channel, let alone someone like Logain.
"Logain", Mat said. "I need you to fight alongside the White Tower army. Those Sharans are pounding them".
Logain had locked eyes with Tuon.
"Logain!" Mat said. "If you haven’t noticed, we’re fighting a bloody war here".
"It is not my war".
"This is our war", Mat snapped. "Every one of us".
"I stood forth to fight", Logain said. "And what was my reward? Ask the Red Ajah. They will tell you the reward of a man abused of the Pattern". He barked a laugh. "The Pattern demanded a Dragon! And so I came! Too soon. Just a little too soon".
"Listen here", Mat said, stepping up to Logain. "You’re angry because you didn’t get to be the Dragon?"
"Nothing so petty", Logain said. "I follow the Lord Dragon. Let him die. I wish no part of that feast. I and mine should be with him, not fighting here. This battle for the little lives of men is nothing compared to the battle happening at Shayol Ghul".
"And yet, you know we need you here", Mat said. "You would already be gone, otherwise".
Logain said nothing.
"Go to Egwene", Mat said. "Take everyone you have and keep those Sharan channelers busy!"
"What of Demandred?" Logain asked softly. "He cries out for the Dragon. He has the power of a dozen men. None of us can face him".
"But you want to try, don’t you?" Mat replied. "That’s why you’re really here, right now. You want me to send you against Demandred".