A Memory of Light

Above, the raken screeched. Gelen, to his credit, saluted, then ran—pounding in that massive armor—with his companions.

“This is it, Egwene,” Mat said. “Take a deep breath, a last pull on the brandy, or burn your final pinch of tabac. Have a good look at the ground before you, as it’s soon going to be covered in blood. In an hour, we’l be in the thick of it. The Light watch over us al .”

Perrin drifted in darkness. He felt so tired.

Slayer still lives, a piece of himself thought. Graendal is corrupting the great captains. The end is near. You can’t slip away now! Hold on.

Hold on to what? He tried to open his eyes, but was so exhausted. He should. . . . should have gotten out of the wolf dream sooner. His entire body felt numb, except . . .

Except for his side. Moving fingers that felt like bricks, he touched the warmth. His hammer.

It was blazing hot. That warmth seemed to move up his fingers, and Perrin took a deep breath.

He needed to wake up. He hovered at the edges of consciousness, as when he was close to sleep, but still partially aware. In that state, he felt as if he faced a forked pathway before him. One path led deeper into darkness. And one led . . . He couldn’t see, but he knew that it meant .. It meant waking up.

Warmth from the hammer radiated up his arm. His mind gathered sharpness. Awaken.

That was what Slayer had done. He had . . . awakened . . . somehow . . .

Perrin’s life was trickling away. Not much time left. Half within death’s embrace, he gritted his teeth, drew in a deep breath and forced himself to wake.

The silence of the wolf dream shattered.

Perrin hit soft earth, and entered a place of shouts. Something about a battlefront, about preparing the lines . . .

Nearby, someone cried out. And then someone else. And others. “Perrin?” He knew that voice. “Perrin, lad!”

Master Luhhan? Perrin’s eyelids felt so heavy. He couldn’t open them. Arms grabbed him.

“Hang on. I have you, lad. I have you. Hang on.”





CHAPTER


37





The Last Battle

Dawn broke that morning on Polov Heights, but the sun did not shine on the Defenders of the Light. Out of the west and out of the north came the armies of Darkness, to win this one last battle and cast a Shadow across the earth; to usher in an Age where the wails of suffering would go unheard.

—from the notebook of Loial, son of Arent son of Halan, the Fourth Age Lan held his sword aloft as he gal oped Mandarb through camp.

Above, the morning clouds began to bleed red, reflecting enormous firebal s rising from the massive Sharan army that was approaching from the west. They arced in the sky gracefully, seeming slow because of the great distance.

Groups of riders broke out of the camp, joining Lan. The remaining Malkieri rode just behind him, but his force had swel ed like a tide. Andere joined him at the front, the flag of Malkier—the Golden Crane—acting as a banner for all of the Borderlands.

They had been bloodied, but not beaten. Knock a man down, and you saw what he was made of. That man might run. If he didn’t—if he stood back up with blood at the corner of his mouth and determination in his eyes then you knew. That man was about to become truly dangerous.

The fireballs seemed to move more quickly as they dropped, crashing to the camp in bursts of red fury. Explosions shook the ground. Nearby screams rose to accompany the thunder of hoofbeats. Stil men joined him. Mat Cauthon had spread word through al of the camps that more cavalry were needed to join Lan’s advance and replace lost soldiers.

He had also disclosed the cost of doing so. The cavalry would be at the forefront of the fighting, breaking Trol oc and Sharan lines, and would find little rest. They’d carry the brunt of the casualties this day.

Stil , men joined him. Borderlanders who should have been too old to ride. Merchants who had put aside the money pouch and taken up the sword. A surprising number of southerners, including many women, wearing breastplates and steel or leather caps, carrying spears. There weren’t enough lances to go around.

“Half of those joining look like farmers more than soldiers!” Andere called to him over the hoofbeats.

“Have you ever seen a man or woman from the Two Rivers ride, Andere?” Lan yelled back.

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Watch and be surprised.”