A Memory of Light

Some goat-headed messenger told us that the Aes Sedai on the hills were in trouble and we needed to go up the flaming backsides of the Trol ocs attacking them. I said, who’s going to mind the left flank at the river, and, for that bloody matter, our own bloody flank when we attack the Trollocs, and he said that General Bryne had that taken care of, reserve cavalry would move up into our position at the river, and the II-lianers would watch out for our bloody flanks. Some protection they were, all right, one flaming squadron, like a flaming fly trying to fend off a flaming falcon! Oh, they were just waiting for us, like they knew we was coming. No, Mother, this can’t be the fault of Gareth Bryne, we’ve been tricked by some sheep-gutted milk-drinking traitor! With al due respect, Mother!”


“I can’t believe that, Uno. I just heard that General Bryne had brought in a legion of Seanchan cavalry. Maybe they were simply late getting here. We 11 sort it all out when I find the general. Meanwhile, get your men back to camp so they can have a proper rest.

Light knows you’ve earned it.”

Uno nodded, and Egwene gal oped back toward camp.

Using Vora’s sa’angreal, Egwene wove Air and Water, spinning them together. A funnel of water surged up, drawn from the river beneath. Egwene blew her tornado of water into the Trollocs that were beginning their assault against her army’s left flank on the Kandori side of the river. Her tempest of water surged across them. It wasn’t strong enough to pull any of them into the air—she didn’t have the energy for that—but it drove them back, hands to their faces.

Behind her and the other Aes Sedai positioned on the Arafellin side of the river, archers loosed volleys of arrows into the sky. Those didn’t darken the sky the way she would have liked—there weren’t so many—but they did take down more than a hundred Trol ocs with each wave.

To the side, Pylar and a couple of other Browns—all adept with weaves of Earth—caused the ground to erupt under the charging Trollocs. Spread out next to her, Myrelle and a large contingent of Greens wove firebal s that they lobbed over the water into bunched-up groups of Trol ocs, many of whom continued to run a considerable distance before they collapsed, engulfed in flames.

The Trollocs howled and roared, but continued their relentless progress against the defenders at the river’s edge. At one point, several ranks of Seanchan cavalry moved out from the defensive lines and attacked the Trol oc onslaught head-on. It happened so quickly that many of the Trollocs were unable to raise their spears before contact was made; large swaths of the foe in the front ranks went down. The Seanchan swept to the side and returned to their lines at the river.

Egwene held to her channeling, forcing herself to work through sheer exhaustion. But the Trollocs didn’t break; they grew enraged, attacking the humans with a frenzy. Egwene could hear their yel s distinctly over the sounds of wind and water.

The Trollocs grew angry, did they? Wel , they would not know anger until they had felt that of the Amyrlin Seat. Egwene pulled in more and more of the Power until she was at the very edges of her ability. She put heat into her tempest so that the scalding water burned Trol oc eyes, hands, hearts. She felt herself yelling, Vora’s sa’angreal thrust before her like a spear.

What seemed like hours went by. Eventual y, exhausted, she al owed Gawyn to talk her into pulling back for a time. Gawyn went to fetch her horse and as he was returning, Egwene looked across the river.

There was no doubt about it; her army’s left flank had already been pushed another thirty paces. Even with the Aes Sedai aid, they were losing this battle.

It was long past time for her to find Gareth Bryne.

When Egwene and Gawyn got back to camp, she climbed from her horse and gave it to Leilwin, tel ing her to use it to help carry the wounded. There were plenty of those who had been dragged across the ford to safety, bloodied soldiers slumping against the arms of friends.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t the strength for Healing, let alone a gateway to send wounded to Tar Valon or Mayene. Most of the Aes Sedai not busy at the riverbank didn’t look as if they were doing any better.

“Egwene,” Gawyn said softly. “Rider. Seanchan. Looks like a noblewoman.”

One of the Blood? Egwene thought, standing and looking through camp toward where Gawyn pointed. At least he had the strength left to keep a lookout. Why any woman would voluntarily go without a Warder was beyond her.

The woman approaching wore fine Seanchan silks, and Egwene’s stomach turned at the sight. That finery existed because of a foundation of enslaved channelers, forced into obedience to the Crystal Throne. The woman was certainly one of the Blood, as a contingent of Deathwatch Guards accompanied her. You had to be very important for . . .

“Light!” Gawyn exclaimed. “Is that Min?”

Egwene gaped. It was.

Min rode up, scowling. “Mother,” she said to Egwene, bowing her head amid her stone-faced guards in dark armor.

“Min . . . are you well?” Egwene asked. Careful, don’t give out too much information. Was Min a captive? Surely she couldn’t have joined the Seanchan, could she?

“Oh, I’m wel ,” Min said sourly. “I’ve been pampered, stuffed in this outfit, and offered al sorts of somewhat delicate foods. I might add that among the Seanchan, delicate does not necessarily mean tasty. You should see the things they drink, Egwene.”

I ve seen them,” Egwene said, unable to keep her tone from coldness. “Oh. Yes. I suppose you have. Mother, we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”