The soldiers didn’t cry out. They were growing used to this. The land groaned.
The bare rock ground near Lan split. He jumped back in alarm as the shaking continued, watching tiny rents appear in the rock—hairline cracks. There was something profoundly wrong about the cracks. They were too dark, too deep. Though the area was still shaking, he stepped up, looking at the tiny cracks, trying to make them out in detail through the rumbling earthquake.
They seemed to be cracks into nothingness. They drew the light in, sucked it away. It was as if he was looking at fractures in the nature of reality itself.
The quakes subsided. The darkness within the cracks lingered for a few breaths, then faded away, the hairline fractures becoming just ordinary breaks in stone. Wary, Lan knelt down, inspecting them closely. Had he seen what he’d thought? What did it mean?
Chilled, he rose to his feet and continued on his way. It is not men alone who grow tired, he thought. The mother is weakening
He hastened through the Saldaean camp. Of those fighting at the Gap the Saldaeans had the most well-kept camp, run by the stern hands of the officers’ wives. Lan had left most of the Malkieri noncombatants in Fal Dara, and the other forces had come with few others except the warriors.
That wasn’t the Saldaean way. Though they normally didn’t go into the Blight, the women otherwise marched with their husbands. Each one could fight with knives, and would hold their camp to the death if the need arose. They had been extremely useful here in gathering and distributing supplies and tending the wounded.
Tenobia was arguing tactics with Agelmar again. Lan listened as the Shienaran great captain nodded to her demands. She didn’t have a bad grasp of things, but she was too bold. She wanted them to push into the Blight, and take the fight to the Trolloc spawning grounds.
Eventually, she noticed Lan. "Lord Mandragoran", she said, eyeing him. She was a pretty enough woman, with fire in her eyes and long black hair. "Your latest sortie was a success?"
"More Trollocs are dead", Lan said.
"We fight a glorious battle", she said with pride.
"I lost a good friend".
Tenobia paused, then looked at his eyes, perhaps searching for emotion in them. Lan didn’t give any. Bulen had died well. "The men who fight have glory", Lan said to her, "but the battle itself is not glory. It simply is. Lord Agelmar, a word".
Tenobia stepped aside and Lan drew Agelmar away. The aged general gave Lan a grateful look. Tenobia watched for a moment, then stalked off with two guards following hastily at her heels.
Shell be off into battle herself at some point if we don’t watch her, Lan thought. Her head is full of songs and stories.
Hadn’t he just encouraged his men to tell those same stories? No. There was a difference, he could feel a difference. Teaching the men to accept that they might die and to revere the honor of the fallen . . . that was different from singing songs about how wonderful it was to fight on the front lines.
Unfortunately, it took actual fighting to teach the difference. The Light send Tenobia wouldn’t do anything too rash. Lan had seen many a young man with that look in his eyes. The solution then was to work them to exhaustion for a few weeks, drilling them to the point that they thought only of their bed, not of the "glories" they would someday find. He doubted that would be appropriate for the Queen herself.
"She has been growing more rash ever since Kalyan married Ethenielle", Lord Agelmar said quietly, joining Lan as they walked the back lines, nodding to passing soldiers. "I think that he was able to dampen her a featherweight or two, but now—without him or Bashere watching her . . ". He sighed. "Well, regardless. What is it you wished of me, Dai Shan?"
"We fight well here", Lan said. "But I’m worried about how tired the men are. Will we be able to keep holding back the Trollocs?"
"You are right; the enemy will force its way through eventually", Agelmar said.
"What do we do, then?" Lan asked.
"We will fight here", Agelmar said. "And then, once we cannot hold, we will retreat to buy time".
Lan stiffened. "Retreat?"
Agelmar nodded. "We are here to slow the Trollocs down. We will accomplish that by holding here for a time, then slowly pulling back across Shienar".
"I did not come to Tarwin’s Gap to retreat, Agelmar".
"Dai Shan, I’m led to believe you came here to die".
That was nothing but the truth. "I will not abandon Malkier to the Shadow a second time, Agelmar. I came to the Gap—the Malkieri followed me here—to show the Dark One that we had not been beaten. To leave after we’ve actually been able to gain a footing . . ".
"Dai Shan", Lord Agelmar said in a softer voice as they walked, "I respect your decision to fight. We all do; your march here alone inspired thousands. That may not have been your purpose, but it is the purpose the Wheel wove for you. The determination of a man set upon justice is a thing not lightly ignored. However, there is a time to put yourself aside and see the greater importance".
Lan stopped, eyeing the aged general. "Take care, Lord Agelmar. It almost sounds as if you are calling me selfish".
"I am, Lan", Agelmar said. "And you are".
Lan did not flinch.
"You came to throw your life away for Malkier. That, in itself, is noble. However, with the Last Battle upon us, it’s also stupid. We need you. Men will die because of your stubbornness".
"I did not ask for them to follow me. Light! I did all that I could to stop them".
"Duty is heavier than a mountain, Dai Shan".
That time, Lan did flinch. How long had it been since someone had been able to do that to him with mere words? He remembered teaching that same concept to a youth out of the Two Rivers. A sheepherder, innocent of the world, fearful of the fate laid out before him by the Pattern.
"Some men", Agelmar said, "are destined to die, and they fear it. Others are destined to live, and to lead, and they find it a burden. If you wished to keep fighting here until the last man fell, you could do it, and they’d die singing the glory of the fight. Or, you could do what we both need to do. Retreat when we’re forced to it, adapt, continuing delaying and stalling the Shadow as long as we can. Until the other armies can send us aid.
"We have an exceptionally mobile force. Each army sent you their finest cavalry. I’ve seen nine thousand Saldaean light horse perform complex maneuvers with precision. We can hurt the Shadow here, but their numbers are proving too great. Greater than I thought they would be. We will hurt more of them as we withdraw. We will find ways to punish them with every step we take backward. Yes, Lan. You made me commanding general of the field. That is my advice to you. It won’t be today, or perhaps for another week, but we will need to fall back".
Lan walked on in silence. Before he could formulate a reply, he saw a blue light exploding in the air. The emergency signal from the Gap. The units that had just rotated onto the field needed help.
I will consider it, Lan thought. Pushing aside his fatigue, he dashed for the horselines where the groom would have delivered Mandarb.
He didn’t need to ride on this sortie. He had just gotten off one. He decided to go anyway, and caught himself yelling for Bulen to prepare a horse, and felt a fool. Light, but Lan had grown accustomed to the man’s help.
Agelmar is right, Lan thought as the grooms fell over themselves, saddling Mandarb. The stallion was skittish, sensing his mood. They will follow me. Like Bulen did. Leading them to death in the name of a fallen kingdom . . . leading myself to the same death . . . how is that any different from Tenobia’s attitude?
Before long, he was galloping back toward the defensive lines to find the Trollocs almost breaking through. He joined the rally, and this night, they held. Eventually, they would fail to do so. What then?
Then . . . then he would abandon Malkier again, and do what had to be done.
Egwene’s force had gathered at the southern portion of the Field of Merrilor. They had been slated to Travel to Kandor once Elayne’s force had been dispatched to Caemlyn. Rand’s armies had not yet entered Thakan’dar, but had instead moved to staging areas on the northern part of the Field, where supplies could be assembled more easily. He claimed the time wasn’t quite right for his assault; the Light send he was making progress with the Seanchan.
Moving so many people was a tremendous headache. Aes Sedai created gateways in a huge line, like the doorways along one side of a grand feast hall. Soldiers bunched up, waiting their turn to pass through. Many of the strongest channelers were not involved in this task; they would be channeling in combat soon enough, and creating gateways would only consume needed strength before the important work had begun.
The soldiers made way for the Amyrlin, of course. With the foreguard in place and a camp established on the other side, it was time for her to cross. She had spent the morning meeting with the Hall as they went over the supply reports and terrain assessments. She was glad she had allowed the Hall to take a larger role in the war; there was a great deal of wisdom to the Sitters, many of whom had lived well over a century.
"I don’t like being forced to wait this long", Gawyn said, riding beside her.
She eyed him.
"I trust General Bryne’s battlefield assessment, as does the Hall", Egwene said as they rode past the Illianer Companions, each man’s brilliant breastplate worked with the Nine Bees of Illian on the front. They saluted her, faces hidden behind their conical helmets, barred at the front.
She wasn’t certain she liked having them in her army—they would be more loyal to Rand than to her—but Bryne had insisted on it. He said that her force, though enormous, lacked an elite group like the Companions.
"I still say we should have left sooner", Gawyn said as the two of them passed through the gateway to the border of Kandor.
"It has only been a few days".
"A few days while Kandor burns". She could sense his frustration. She could also feel that he loved her, fiercely. He was her husband, now. The marriage had been performed by Silviana in a simple ceremony the night before. It still felt odd to know that Egwene had authorized her own wedding. When you were the highest authority, what else could you do?
As they moved into the camp on the Kandori border, Bryne rode by, giving terse orders to scouting patrols. When he reached Egwene, he climbed out of the saddle and bowed low, kissing her ring. He then remounted and continued. He was very respectful, considering that he’d essentially been bullied into leading this army. Of course, he’d made his demands and they had been met, so perhaps he’d bullied them as well. Leading the White Tower’s armies had been an opportunity for him; no man liked being put out to pasture. The great captain shouldn’t have found himself there in the first place.
Egwene noted Siuan riding at Bryne’s side and smiled in satisfaction. He is bound tightly to us now.
Egwene surveyed the hills on the southeastern border of Kandor. Though they lacked greenery—like most places in the world now—their peaceful serenity gave no hint that the country beyond them burned. The capital, Chachin, was now little more than rubble. Before withdrawing to join the fight with the other Borderlanders, Queen Ethenielle had turned over rescue operations to Egwene and the Hall. They had done what they could, sending scouts through gateways along major roadways looking for refugees, then bringing them away to safety—if anywhere could be called safe now.