A Memory of Light

The Blood looked stunned.

“It is not so simple, young woman,” General Galgan said. From the looks others gave him, it seemed he wasn’t supposed to debate a Truthspeaker. He barreled forward anyway. “This is a complex situation.”

“I would be more sympathetic,” Min said, “if I didn’t know there was a spy for the Shadow among us.”

The freckled so’jhin looked up sharply.

I have you, Min thought, then pointed at General Yulan. “Abaldar Yulan, I denounce you! I have seen omens that prove to me you are not acting in the interests of the Empire!”

The real spy relaxed, and Min caught a hint of a smile on her lips. That was good enough. As Yulan protested loudly the accusation, Min dropped a knife into her hand and whipped it toward the woman.

It flipped end over end—but just before hitting the woman, it stopped and hung in the air.

Nearby damane and sul’dam gasped. The spy shot Min a hateful glare, then opened a gateway, throwing herself through. Weaves shot after her, but she was gone before most of the people at the meeting realized what was happening.

“I’m sorry, General Yulan,” Min announced, “but you are suffering from Compulsion.

Fortuona, it is obvious that the Shadow is doing whatever it can to keep us from this battle.

With that in mind, wil you still pursue this course of indecision?”

Min met Tuon’s eyes.

“You play these games quite well,” Tuon whispered, voice cold. “And to think that I worried for your safety by bringing you into my court. I should have worried for myself, it appears.”

Tuon sighed, ever so softly. “I suppose you give me the opportunity . . . perhaps the mandate .. to fol ow what my heart would choose, whether or not it is wise.” She stood.

“General Galgan, gather your troops. We will return to the Field of Merrilor.”

Egwene wove Earth and destroyed the boulders behind which the Sharans had hidden. The other Aes Sedai struck immediately, hurling weaves through the crackling air. The Sharans died in fire, lightning and explosions.

This side of the Heights was so piled with rubble and scarred with trenches it looked like the remains of a city following a terrible earthquake. It was still night, and they had been fighting . . . Light, how long had it been since Gawyn died? Hours upon hours.

Egwene redoubled her efforts, refusing to let the thought of him pull her down. Over the hours, her Aes Sedai and the Sharans had fought back and forth across the western side of the Heights. Slowly, Egwene was pushing them eastward.

At times, Egwene’s side had seemed to be winning, but lately, more and more Aes Sedai fell from the effects of fatigue or the One Power.

Another group of channelers approached through the smoke, drawing on the One Power.

Egwene could sense them more than see them.

“Deflect their weaves!” Egwene yel ed, standing at the forefront. “I wil attack, you defend!”

Other women took up the call, yelling it along their battle line. No longer did they fight in pockets alone; women of al Ajahs lined up to either side of Egwene, concentration on their ageless faces. Warders stood in front of them; using their bodies to stop weaves was the only protection they could offer.

Egwene felt Leilwin approaching from behind. The new Warder took her duties seriously. A Seanchan, fighting as her Warder in the Last Battle. Why not? The world itself was unraveling. The cracks al around Egwene’s feet proved that. Those had not faded, as earlier ones had—the darkness remained. Balefire had been used too much in this area.

Egwene launched a wave of fire like a moving wall. Corpses went up in flames as the wall passed, leaving behind smoking piles of bones. Her attack scored the ground, blackening it, and the Sharans banded together to fight back against the weave. She kil ed a few of them before they shattered the attack.

The other Aes Sedai deflected or destroyed their return weaves, and Egwene gathered her strength to try again. So tired. . a piece of her whispered. Egwene, you’re so tired. This is becoming dangerous.

Leilwin stepped up, stumbling on broken rock but joining her at the front. “I bring word, Mother,” she said in that Seanchan drawl. “The Asha’man have recovered the seals. Their leader carries them.”

Egwene let out a relieved breath. She wove Fire and sent it forth in pillars this time, the flames il uminating the broken ground around them. Those cracks that M’Hael had caused worried her deeply. She began another weave, then stopped. Something was wrong.

She spun around as balefire—a column as wide as a man’s arm—ripped through the Aes Sedai line, vaporizing half a dozen women. Explosions all around appeared as if from nowhere, and other women went from battle to death in a heartbeat.