A Memory of Light

“We found them together,” Flinn said. “Rand must have carried him out of the pit. We don’t know why the Lord Dragon would save one of the Forsaken, but it doesn’t matter. We can’t Heal him either. They’re dying. Both of them.”


“Send for Min, Elayne and Aviendha,” Perrin said again. He hesitated. “Did they all survive?”

“The Aiel girl took a beating,” Flinn said. “She came stumbling into camp, half-carried by a horrid-looking Aes Sedai who had made a gateway for her. She’ll live, though I don’t know how well she’ll walk in years to come.”

“Let them know. Al of them.”

Flinn nodded, and Perrin stepped out after Nynaeve. He found what he’d hoped to see, the reason why she’d left so quickly. Just outside the tent, Lan held her tightly. The man looked as bloodied and tired as Perrin felt. Their eyes met, and they nodded to one another.

“Several of the Windfinders have opened a gateway between here and Merrilor,” Lan said to Perrin. “The Dark One is sealed away again. The Blasted Lands are blooming, and gateways can open here again.”

“Thank you,” Perrin said, passing him by. “Has anyone . . . heard anything about Faile?”

“No, blacksmith. The Hornsounder saw her last, but she left him and entered the battlefield to draw the Trollocs away from him. I’m sorry.”

Perrin nodded. He’d already spoken with Mat, and Olver. It seemed to him that . . . that he’d been avoiding thinking about what must have happened.

Don’t think about it, he told himself. Don’t you dare. He steeled himself, then went to seek the gateway Lan had mentioned.

“Excuse me,” Loial asked the Maidens sitting beside the tent. “Have you seen Matrim Cauthon?”

“OosquaiT one of them asked, laughing, holding up the skin.

“No, no,” Loial said. “I have to find Matrim Cauthon and get his account of the battle, you see. While its fresh. I need everyone to tel me what they saw and heard, so that I can write it down. There will never be a better time.”

And, he admitted to himself, he wanted to see Mat and Perrin. See that they were all right.

So much had happened; he wanted to talk to his friends and make certain they were wel .

With what was happening to Rand . . .

The Aiel woman smiled at him drunkenly. Loial sighed, then continued through the camp.

The day was coming to an end. The day of the Last Battle! It was the Fourth Age now, wasn’t it? Could an age start in the middle of a day? That would be inconvenient for the calendars, wouldn’t it? But everyone agreed. Rand had sealed the Bore at noon.

Loial continued through the camp. They hadn’t moved from the base of Shayol Ghul.

Nynaeve said she was too worried to move Rand. Loial kept searching, peeking into tents. In the next, he found the grizzled general Ituralde, surrounded by four Aes Sedai.

“Look,” Ituralde said. “I’ve served the kings of Arad Doman all of my life. I swore oaths.”

“Alsalam is dead,” Saerin Sedai said from beside the chair. “Someone has to take the throne.”

“There is confusion in Saldaea,” Elswell Sedai added. “The succession is messy, with the ties it has to Andor now. Arad Doman cannot afford to be leaderless. You must take the throne, Rodel Ituralde. You must do it quickly.” “The Merchant Council . . .”

“All dead or vanished,” another Aes Sedai said.

“I swore oaths . . .”

“And what would your king have you do?” Yukiri Sedai asked. “Let the kingdom disintegrate?

You must be strong, Lord Ituralde. This is not a time for Arad Doman to be without a leader.”

Loial slipped away and shook his head, feeling sorry for the man. Four Aes Sedai. Ituralde would be crowned before the day was out.

Loial stopped by the main Healing tent again to check if anyone had seen Mat. He had been to this battlefield, and people said he was smiling and healthy, but . . . well, Loial wanted to see for himself. Wanted to talk to him.

Inside the tent, Loial had to slouch lest he brush his head on the ceiling. A large tent for humans was small by Ogier standards.

He peeked in on Rand. His friend looked worse than before. Lan stood by the wal . He wore a crown—it was just a simple silver band—where the hadori used to rest. That wasn’t odd, but the matching one Nynaeve wore did give Loial a start.

“It’s not fair,” Nynaeve whispered. “Why should he die, when the other one gets better?”

Nynaeve seemed troubled. She stil had red eyes, but before, she had chivvied anyone who mentioned them, so Loial said nothing. Humans often seemed to want him to say nothing, which was odd for people who lived lives so hastily.

She looked at Loial, and he bowed his head to her.

“Loial,” she said. “How goes your search?”

“Not well,” he said with a grimace. “Perrin ignored me and Mat cannot be found.”

“Your stories can wait a few days, Builder,” Lan said.

Loial did not argue. Lan was a king now, after all. But . . . no, the stories could not wait. They had to be fresh so his history could be accurate.