"Androl?" Pevara whispered.
"Quiet". Mishraile’s voice was followed by a thump and a grunt from Pevara.
I am really starting to hate that one, Pevara sent to him.
Androl didn’t reply.
They took the effort to dig us out of the collapsed room, Pevara continued. I remember some of it, before they shielded me and knocked me unconscious. It seems to have been less than a day since then. I guess Taim hasn’t yet hit his quota of Dread-lords Turned to the Shadow.
She sent it, almost, with levity.
Behind them, Evin’s screams stopped.
Oh, Light! Pevara sent. Was that Evin? All wryness vanished from her tone. What’s happening?
They’re Turning him, Androl sent back. Strength of will has something to do with resisting. That is why Logain hasn’t been Turned yet.
Pevara’s concern was a warmth through the bond. Were all Aes Sedai like her? He’d assumed they had no emotions, but Pevara felt the full range—although she accompanied it with an almost inhuman control over how those emotions affected her. Another result of decades of practice?
How do we escape? she sent.
I’m trying to untie my bonds. My fingers are stiff.
I can see the knot. It’s a hefty one, but I might be able to guide you.
He nodded, and they began, Pevara describing the turns of the knot as Androl tried to twist his fingers around them. He failed to get enough purchase on the bonds; he tried pulling his hands free and wiggling them out, but the ropes were too tight.
By the time he accepted defeat, his fingers were numb from the lack of circulation. It’s not going to work, he sent.
I’ve been trying to push out of this shield, Pevara replied. It’s possible, and I think our shields might be tied off. Tied-off shields fail.
Androl sent back agreement, though he couldn’t keep from feeling frustrated. How long could Evin hold out?
The silence taunted him. Why couldn’t he hear any sounds? Then he sensed something. Channeling. Could that be thirteen men? Light. If there were thirteen Myrddraal as well, the situation was dire. What would they do if they escaped? They couldn’t fight so many.
Which cliff did you choose? Pevara sent him.
What?
You said that when you were among the Sea Folk, they jumped off cliffs to prove their bravery. The higher the cliff, the braver the jumper. Which cliff did you choose?
The highest, he admitted.
Why?
I figured that once you’ve decided to jump off a cliff, you might as well pick the highest one. Why accept the risk, if not for the greatest prize?
Pevara sent back approval. We will escape, Androl. Somehow.
He nodded, mostly for himself, and set back at his knot.
A few moments later, Taim’s cronies returned. Evin squatted down beside Androl. Behind his eyes lurked something different, something awful. He smiled. "Well, that was certainly not as bad as I had assumed it would be, Androl".
"Oh, Evin . . ".
"Don’t worry about me", Evin said, resting a hand on Androl’s shoulder. "I feel great. No more fear, no more worry. We shouldn’t have been fighting all of this time. We are the Black Tower. We need to work together".
You are not my friend, Androl thought. You might have his face, but Evin . . . Oh, Light. Evin is dead.
"Where is Nalaam?" Androl asked.
"Died in the cave-in, I’m afraid". Evin shook his head. He leaned in. "They’re planning to kill you, Androl, but I think I can convince them that you’re worth Turning instead. You’ll thank me, eventually".
The terrible thing inside of Evin’s eyes smiled, patted Androl on the shoulder, then rose and began chatting with Mezar and Welyn.
Behind them, Androl could barely see thirteen shadows trailing over to grab Emarin and drag him away to be Turned next. Fades, with cloaks that did not move.
Androl thought how lucky Nalaam was to be crushed in the collapse.
CHAPTER 9
To Die Well
Lan split the head of the Myrddraal in half down to the neck. He danced Mandarb back, letting the Fade thrash as it died, its convulsions twisting the pieces of its skull from the neck. Putrid black blood poured onto the rock, which had already been bloodied a dozen times.
"Lord Mandragoran!"
Lan wheeled toward the call. One of his men pointed back toward their camp, where a spout of bright red light was shooting into the air.
Noon already? Lan thought, raising his sword and signaling for his Malkieri to retreat. The Kandori and Arafellin troops were swinging in, light cavalry with bows, sending wave after wave of arrows into the mass of Trollocs.
The stench was tremendous. Lan and his men rode away from the front lines, passing two Asha’man and an Aes Sedai—Coladara, who had insisted on staying on as King Paitar’s advisor—channeling to set the Trolloc corpses aflame. That would make it more difficult for the next wave of Shadowspawn.
Lan’s armies had continued their brutal work, holding the Trollocs at the Gap like pitch holding back the spray of water in a leaking boat. The army fought in short rotations, an hour at a time. Bonfires and Asha’man lit the way at night, never giving the Shadowspawn the opportunity to advance.
After two days of grueling battle, Lan knew that this tactic would eventually favor the Trollocs. Humans were killing them by the wagonload, but the Shadow had been building its forces for years. Each night, the Trollocs fed upon the dead; they didn’t have to worry about mess supplies.
Lan kept his shoulders from sagging as he rode away from the front lines, making way for the next group of his troops, but he wanted to collapse and sleep for days. Despite the greater numbers given him by the Dragon Reborn, every man was required to take several shifts on the front lines each day. Lan always joined a few extra.
Finding sleep was not easy for his troops while also caring for their equipment, gathering wood for the bonfires and bringing supplies through gateways. As he surveyed those leaving the front lines with him, Lan sought for what he could do to strengthen them. Nearby, faithful Bulen was sagging. Lan would need to make sure the man slept more, or—
Bulen slid from the saddle.
Lan cursed, stopping Mandarb, and leaped down. He dashed to Bulen’s side and found the man staring blankly into the sky. Bulen had a massive wound in his side, the mail there ripped like a sail that had seen too much wind. Bulen had covered the wound by putting his coat on over his armor. Lan hadn’t seen him hit, nor had he seen the man covering up the wound.
Fool! Lan thought, feeling at Bulen’s neck.
No pulse. He was gone.
Fool! Lan thought again, bowing his head. You wouldn’t leave my side, would you? That’s why you hid it. You were afraid I'd die out there while you came back for Healing.
Either that, or you didn’t want to demand strength from the channelers. You knew they were pushed to their limits.
With teeth clenched, Lan picked up Bulen’s corpse and slung it over his shoulder. He hefted the body onto Bulen’s horse and tied it across the saddle. Andere and Prince Kaisel—the Kandori youth and his squad of a hundred usually rode with Lan—sat nearby, watching solemnly. Conscious of their eyes, Lan put his hand on the corpse’s shoulder.
"You did well, my friend", he said. "Your praises will be sung for generations. May you shelter in the palm of the Creator’s hand, and may the last embrace of the mother welcome you home". He turned to the others. "I will not mourn! Mourning is for those who regret, and I do not regret what we do here! Bulen could not have died a better death. I do not cry for him, I cheer!"
He swung up into Mandarb’s saddle, holding the reins of Bulen’s horse, and sat tall. He would not let them see his fatigue. Or his sorrow. "Did any of you see Bakh fall?" he asked those riding near him. "He had a crossbow tied to the back of his horse. He always carried that thing with him. I swore that if it ever went off by accident, I’d have the Asha’man hang him by his toes from the top of a cliff.
"He died yesterday when his sword caught in a Trollocs armor. He left it and reached for his spare, but two more Trollocs pulled his horse out from underneath him. I thought he was dead then, and was trying to reach him, only to see him come up with that Light-burned crossbow of his and shoot a Trolloc right in the eye from two feet away. The bolt went clear through its head. The second Trolloc gutted him, but not before he put his boot knife in its neck". Lan nodded. "I remember you, Bakh. You died well". They rode for a few moments, and then Prince Kaisel added, "Ragon. He died well, too. Charged his horse straight at a group of thirty Trollocs that were coming in at us from the side. Probably saved a dozen men with that move, buying us time. He kicked one in the face as they pulled him down".
"Yes, Ragon was a right insane man", Andere said. "I’m one of the men he saved". He smiled. "He did die well. Light, but he did. Of course, the craziest thing I’ve seen these last few days is what Kragil did when fighting that Fade. Did any of you see it . . ".
By the time they reached the camp, the men were laughing and toasting the fallen with words. Lan split off from them, and took Bulen to the Asha’man. Narishma was holding open a gateway for a supply cart. He nodded to Lan. "Lord Mandragoran?"
"I need to put him someplace cold", Lan said, dismounting. "When this is done, and Malkier is reclaimed, we will want a proper resting place for the noble fallen. Until then, I will not have him burned or left to rot. He was the first Malkieri to return to Malkier’s king".
Narishma nodded, Arafellin bells tinkling on the ends of his braids. He ushered a cart through the gateway, then held up a hand for the others to stop. He closed that gateway, then opened one to the top of a mountain.
Icy air blew through. Lan took Bulen off his horse. Narishma moved to help, but Lan waved him away, grunting as he heaved the corpse up onto his shoulder. He stepped through into the snows, the biting wind sharp on his cheeks, as if someone had taken a knife to them.
He laid Bulen down, then knelt and gently took the hadori from Bulen’s head. Lan would carry it into battle—so that Bulen could continue to fight—then return it to the body when the battle was through. An old Malkieri tradition. "You did well, Bulen", Lan said softly. "Thank you for not giving up on me".
He stood up, boots crunching the snow, and strode out through the gateway, hadori in hand. Narishma let the gateway close, and Lan asked for the location of the mountain—in case Narishma died in the fighting—so he could locate Bulen again.
They wouldn’t be able to preserve all of the Malkieri corpses this way, but one was better than none. Lan wrapped the leather hadori about the hilt of his sword, just below the crossguard, and tied it tight. He handed Mandarb off to a groom, holding up a finger to the horse and meeting his dark, liquid eyes. "No more biting grooms", he growled at the stallion.
After that, Lan went looking for Lord Agelmar. He found the commander speaking with Tenobia outside the Saldaean section of camp. Men stood with bows nearby in lines of two hundred, watching the skies. There had already been a number of Draghkar attacks. As Lan stepped up, the ground started to shake and rumble.