Rodholder. It meant that should Galgan fall, Mat would have command. Galgan was no longer smiling. He would have to keep watch over his shoulder lest Mat overcome him and take control.
Fortuona sat down.
"Knotai?" Knotai said.
She glared at him. Keep your tongue, for once, she thought at him. Please.
"I kind of like it", Knotai said, turning his horse and trotting away.
Galgan regained his saddle. "He will need to learn to kneel", the general muttered, then kicked his horse forward.
It was an ever-so-small offense, deliberate and calculating. Galgan had not addressed the words to Fortuona directly, instead acting as if they were just a comment to himself. He sidestepped calling her Greatest One.
It was enough to make Selucia growl softly and wiggle her fingers in a question.
No, Fortuona signed, we need him.
Once again, Knotai did not seem to realize what she had done, and the risk inherent in it. Galgan would have to consult with him on their battle plans; the Rodholder could not be left out of meetings, as he had to be ready to take control at any moment. Galgan would have to listen to his advice and incorporate it.
She bet upon her prince in this, hoping that he could manifest again the unexpected genius in battle that had so impressed Furyk Karede.
This is bold, Selucia said. But what if he fails?
We will not fail, Fortuona replied, for this is the Last Battle.
The Pattern had placed Knotai before her, had shoved her into his arms. The Dragon Reborn had seen and spoken truth about her—for all the illusion of order, her rule was like a heavy rock balanced on its smallest point. She was stretched thin, reigning over lands unaccustomed to discipline. She needed to take great risks to bring order to chaos.
She hoped that Selucia would see it that way and not publicly denounce her. Fortuona really would need to find a new Voice or appoint someone else as Truthspeaker. Having one person fill both roles was drawing criticism in court. It—
Knotai suddenly came riding back, holding to his hat. "Tuon!"
Why is it so hard for him to understand names? Selucia asked with a wiggle of her fingers. Fortuona could almost read the sigh in those motions. "Knotai?" Fortuona asked. "You may approach".
"Bloody good", Knotai said, "since I’m already here. Tuon, we need to move now. The scouts just came back. Egwene’s army is in trouble".
Yulan rode up just behind Knotai, then dismounted and bowed himself full to the ground.
"Rise", Fortuona said. "Is this true?"
"The army of the marath'damane has suffered a grave defeat", Yulan said. "The returning Fists of Heaven describe it in detail. This Amyrlin’s armies are scattered, in turmoil, and retreating at speed".
Galgan had stopped nearby to receive a messenger, no doubt being given a similar report. The general looked at her.
"We should move in to support Egwene’s retreat", Knotai said. "I don’t know what a Rodholder is, but from how everyone’s reacting, I think it means I have control of the armies".
"No", Fortuona said. "You are third. Behind me. Behind Galgan".
"Then you can order a move right now", Knotai said. "We need to go! Egwene is getting stomped".
"How many marath'damane are there?" Fortuona asked.
"We have been watching this army", Yulan said. "There are hundreds. The entirety of the White Tower that remains. They are exhausted, being driven forth by a new force, one we do not recognize".
"Tuon . . ". Mat warned.
Great change. So this was the meaning of the Dragon’s omen. Fortuona could swoop in and all of those damane would be hers. Hundreds upon hundreds. With that force, she could crush the resistance to her rule back in Seanchan.
It was the Last Battle. The world hung upon her decisions. Was it truly better to support these marath'damane in their desperate fight here, or should she use the chance to retreat to Seanchan, secure her rule there, then defeat the Trollocs and the Shadow with the might of the Empire?
"You gave your word", Knotai said softly.
"I signed a treaty", she said. "Any treaty can be broken, particularly by the Empress".
"Some empresses might be able to do that", Knotai said. "But not you. Right? Light, Tuon. You gave him your word"
Order in one hand—something known, something she could measure—chaos in the other. Chaos in the form of a one-eyed man who knew Artur Hawkwing’s face.
Had she not just told Selucia she would bet upon him?
"The Empress cannot be constrained by words on a paper", Fortuona said. "However . . . in this case, the reason I signed the treaty remains, and is real. We will protect this world in its darkest days, and we will destroy the Shadow at its root. General Galgan, you shall move our forces to protect these marath'damane, as we will require their aid in fighting the Shadow". Knotai relaxed. "Good. Yulan, Galgan, let’s get planning! And send for that woman, Tylee. She seems like the only bloody general around here with her head on her shoulders. And . . "
He went on talking, riding off, giving orders that he really should have allowed Galgan to give. Galgan studied her from horseback, his face unreadable. He’d consider this a grave mistake, but she . . . she had the omens on her side.
Those dreadful black clouds had been Lan’s companion for far too long. He had grown weary indeed of seeing them each day, expanding toward infinity in all directions, rumbling with thunder like growls from the stomach of a hungry beast.
"The clouds seem lower today", Andere said, from his horse beside Mandarb. "The lightning is touching down. It doesn’t do that every day".
Lan nodded. Andere was right; it did look bad. That didn’t change a thing. Agelmar had chosen the place for their battle alongside the river roaring on their western flank, using it to protect that side. Nearby hills provided archer positions, and it was atop one of these that Lan and Andere waited.
Ahead, the Trollocs gathered for an assault. They would come soon. Closer by, Agelmar had placed heavy cavalry in the valleys for flanking attacks once the Trollocs charged, light cavalry behind the hills to help the heavy cavalry withdraw when the time came. Agelmar kept grumbling about not having any pikes, though it was the lack of foot that had facilitated their successful retreat.
For all the good it has done, Lan thought gloomily as he studied the near-endless sea of Trollocs. His men had picked their battles carefully, killing tens of thousands while losing only thousands, leaving Shienar burned and unable to sustain the Trolloc advance. None of it seemed to have mattered.
They were losing this fight. Yes, they had delayed the Trollocs, but not well enough—and not long enough. They would soon be trapped and destroyed, with no aid coming from Elayne’s army, which was pressed just as badly.
The sky darkened. Lan looked up sharply. Those clouds were still there, but they grew much more ominous. The land was cast into deep shadow.
"Blast it", Andere said, looking up. "Has the Dark One somehow swallowed the sun? We’ll have to carry lanterns to fight, even though it’s the middle of the day".
Lan placed his hand to his breastplate; beneath the armor, Nynaeve’s letter rested next to his heart. Light! May her fight go better than my own. Earlier today, she and Rand had entered the Pit of Doom itself.
Across the battlefield, the tired channelers, pulling their eyes from the terrifyingly dark sky, sent up lights. It wasn’t much to see by, but it would have to do. But then the darkness receded, and daylight returned, clouded as had become usual.
"Gather the High Guard of Malkier", Lan said. That was what his protectors were calling themselves. It was an old Malkieri term for the King’s battlefield guard. Lan wasn’t certain what to make of the fact that Prince Kaisel, who was from Kandor, considered himself one.
Many of Lan’s Malkieri had very little true Malkier blood—they came to him as an honor more than anything else. The Prince was another matter. Lan had asked him and his companions if they should be swearing to a foreign king, no matter how friendly.
The only reply he’d received was, "Malkier represents the Borderlands in this war, Dai Shan".
Lightning flashed nearby; the clap of thunder beat against Lan like a physical thing. Mandarb barely stirred. The animal was growing accustomed to such strikes. The High Guard gathered, and Andere took up Lan’s banner, affixing it in the socket on his saddle so that he could carry it, but still swing a sword.
Their orders arrived from Agelmar. Lan and his men would be in the very thick of the attack. Once the Trollocs charged, the heavy cavalry would hit the flanks to break up their momentum. Lan and his men would hit the creatures face-on.
As Lan preferred it. Agelmar knew better than to try to coddle him. Lan and his troops would hold the center ground before the hills, forcing the Trollocs to fight in such a way that the archers could lob volley after volley into their back ranks. Harrying forces would be held mostly in reserve, to prevent the enemy sweeping around their right flank; the river was on their left, a natural deterrent to the Trollocs. A good plan, if any plan could be considered a good one in the face of such overwhelming odds. Still, Agelmar was not making mistakes that Lan could see. He complained of troubled dreams lately, but considering the war they fought, Lan would have been more worried if the man hadn’t dreamed of death and battle.
The Trollocs started to move.
"Forward!" Lan called as the trumpets sounded in the air, accompanied by thunder from above.
A short distance from the walls of Cairhien, Elayne rode Moonshadow along the front lines; the army had formed up according to Bashere’s battle plans, but she was worried.
They had done it. A fast march upriver along the road to arrive at Cairhien in front of the Trolloc army. Elayne had positioned their force on the far northern side of Cairhien to face the Trolloc army coming in from that direction. She had also left some of the dragons and a company of bowmen downriver to deter the Trollocs trying to cross the river there; they would withdraw quickly northward when it became impossible to prevent the enemy from crossing.
Beat the army ahead; then face the one behind. It was their only chance. The Kinswomen were exhausted; Elayne had required many gateways to move her men. Their fatigue meant Elayne would have no channelers in this fight. The women would be hard-pressed to make small gateways to Mayene to deliver the wounded for Healing.
Elayne’s army was slightly larger than that of the Shadowspawn, but her men were exhausted. Amid the anxiety of a coming battle, some slumped in their lines, pikes tipping forward. Those who stood firm had reddened eyes nonetheless. They still had Aludra’s dragons. That would have to be enough.
Elayne hadn’t slept the night before. She’d spent the time searching for inspiring words, seeking something she could say this day that would have meaning. What did you say when all was coming to an end?
She halted Moonshadow at the front of the line of Andoran soldiers. Her words would be relayed, using weaves, to the entire army. Elayne was surprised to see that some of the Aiel were drawing close to listen. She wouldn’t have thought they’d care about the words of a wetlander queen.