Gawyn kicked his feet free of the stirrups and pushed himself out of the saddle. It would be too hard to keep from killing the man from horseback. He slid his blade free as his feet hit the muddy ground, the sheath rasping like an inhaled breath. Gawyn fell into Oak Shakes Its Branches, a form that wielded nonlethal blows, often used by masters for training their students. It was also very effective against a large group all using different weapons.
Before the sergeant had his sword free, Gawyn slammed into him, ramming an elbow into his gut just beneath the poorly fitting breastplate. The man grunted and bent, then Gawyn knocked him on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword—the man should have known better than to wear his cap askew like that. Then Gawyn fell into Parting the Silk to deal with the first halberdier. As another of the men screamed for help, Gawyn’s blade slashed across the first halberdier’s breastplate with a ringing sound, forcing the man back. Gawyn finished by sweeping the man’s feet from under him, then fell into Twisting the Wind to block a pair of blows from the other two men.
It was unfortunate, but he had to resort to striking the thighs of the two standing halberdiers. He’d have preferred to avoid wounding them, but fights—even one such as this, against far less skilled opponents—became unpredictable the longer they lasted. One had to control the battlefield quickly and soundly, and that meant dropping the two soldiers—clutching their bleeding thighs. The sergeant was out cold from the rap to the head, but the first halberdier was rising shakily. Gawyn kicked the man’s halberd aside, then planted a boot in his face, knocking him back and bloodying his nose.
Challenge whinnied from behind, snorting and stamping the ground. The warhorse sensed a fight, but was well trained. He knew that when his reins were dropped, he was to remain still. Gawyn wiped his blade on his trouser leg, then slid it back into its sheath, the wounded soldiers groaning on the ground. He patted Challenge on the nose and took up the reins again. Behind Gawyn, nearby camp followers backed away, then ran. A group of soldiers from inside the palisade approached with bows drawn. That was not good. Gawyn turned to face them, pulling his still-sheathed sword free from his belt and tossing it to the ground in front of the men.
“I am unarmed,” he said over the sounds of the wounded. “And none of these four will die this day. Go and tell your general that a lone blademaster just felled a squad of his guards in under ten heartbeats. I’m an old student of his. He’ll want to see me.”
One of the men scrambled forward to take Gawyn’s fallen sword while another signaled to a runner. The others kept their bows raised. One of the fallen halberdiers began to crawl away. Gawyn turned Challenge at an angle, making ready to duck behind the horse if the soldiers moved to draw. He’d much prefer it not come to that, but of the two of them, Challenge was far more likely to survive a few shortbow shafts than Gawyn.
Several of the soldiers risked coming forward to help their fallen friends. The heavyset watch sergeant was stirring, and he sat up, cursing under his breath. Gawyn made no threatening motions.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to fight the men, but he had already wasted too much time. Egwene could be dead by now! When a man like that sergeant tried to assert his authority, you really only had two options. You could talk your way up through the ranks of the bureaucracy, convincing each soldier each step of the way that you were important. Or you could make a disturbance. The second was faster, and the camp obviously had enough Aes Sedai support to Heal a few injured soldiers.
Eventually, a small group of men strode out from inside the palisade. Their uniforms were sharp, their postures dangerous, their faces worn. At their head came a square-faced man with graying temples and a strong, stocky build. Gawyn smiled. Bryne himself. The gamble had worked.
The Captain-General surveyed Gawyn, then moved on to a quick inspection of his fallen soldiers. At last, he shook his head. “Stand down,” he said to his men. “Sergeant Cords.”
The stocky sergeant stood up. “Sir!”
Bryne glanced back at Gawyn. “Next time a man comes to the gate claiming to be nobility and asking for me, send for an officer. Immediately. I don’t care if the man has two months of scruffy beard and reeks of cheap ale. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said, blushing. “Understood, sir.”
“See your men to the infirmary, Sergeant,” Bryne said, still looking at Gawyn. “You, come with me.”
Gawyn clenched his jaw. He hadn’t received such an address from Gareth Bryne since before he’d started shaving. Still, he couldn’t really expect the man to be pleased. Just inside the palisade, Gawyn spotted a young boy who was likely a stablehand or messenger boy. He handed Challenge to the wide-eyed youth, instructing him to see the horse cared for. Then Gawyn retrieved his sword from the man holding it and hurried after Bryne.
“Gareth,” Gawyn said, catching up, “I—”
“Hold your tongue, young man,” Bryne said, not turning toward him. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you.”
Gawyn snapped his mouth closed. That was uncalled for! Gawyn was still brother to the rightful Queen of Andor, and would be First Prince of the Sword should Elayne take and hold the throne! Bryne should show him respect.
But Bryne could be stubborn as a boar. Gawyn held his tongue. They reached a tall, peaked tent with two guards at the front. Bryne ducked inside and Gawyn followed. The inside was neat and clean, more so than Gawyn had expected. The desk was stacked with rolled maps and orderly sheets of paper, and the pallets in the corner were rolled carefully, blankets folded with sharp angles. Bryne was obviously relying on someone meticulous to tidy up for him.
Bryne clasped his hands behind his back, breastplate reflecting Gawyn’s face as he turned around. “All right. Explain what you’re doing here.”
Gawyn drew himself up. “General,” he said, “I think you mistake yourself. I’m no longer your student.”
“I know,” Bryne said curtly. “The boy I trained would never have pulled a childish stunt like that one to get my attention.”
“The watch sergeant was belligerent, and I had no patience for the posturing of a fool. This seemed the best way.”
“The best way to what?” Bryne asked. “Outrage me?”
“Look,” Gawyn said, “perhaps I was hasty, but I have an important task. You need to listen to me.”
“And if I don’t?” Bryne asked. “If I instead throw you out of my camp for being a spoiled princeling with too much pride and not enough sense?”
Gawyn frowned. “Be careful, Gareth. I’ve learned a great deal since we last met. I think you’ll find that your sword can no longer best mine as easily as it once did.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Bryne said. “Light, boy! You always were a talented one. But you think that just because you’re skilled with the sword, your words hold more weight? I should listen because you’ll kill me if I don’t? I thought I taught you far better than that.”
Bryne had aged since Gawyn had last seen him. But that age didn’t bow Bryne down—it rested comfortably on his shoulders. A few more traces of white at his temples, a few more wrinkles around the eyes, yet strong and lean enough of body that he looked years younger than he was. One couldn’t look at Gareth Bryne and see anything other than a man in—certainly not past—his prime.
Gawyn locked eyes with the general, trying to keep the anger from boiling out. Bryne held his gaze, calm. Solid. As a general should be. As Gawyn should be.
Gawyn looked away, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself. “Light,” he whispered, releasing his sword and raising a hand to his head. He suddenly felt very, very tired. “I’m sorry, Gareth. You’re right. I’ve been a fool.”
Bryne grunted. “Good to hear you say that. I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you.”
Gawyn sighed, wiping his brow, wishing for something cool to drink. His anger melted away, and he felt exhausted. “It has been a difficult year,” he said, “and I rode myself too hard getting here. I’m at the edge of my mind.�
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“You aren’t the only one, lad,” Bryne said. He took a deep breath and walked to a small serving table, poured a cup of something for Gawyn. It was only warm tea, but Gawyn took it thankfully and sipped.
“These are times to test men,” Bryne said, pouring himself a cup. He took a sip and grimaced.
“What?” Gawyn asked, glancing down at his cup.
“It’s nothing. I despise this stuff.”
“Then why drink it?” Gawyn asked.
“It’s supposed to improve my health,” Bryne grumbled. Before Gawyn could ask further, the large general continued, “So are you going to make me throw you in the stocks before you’ll tell me why you decided to fight your way into my command post?”
Gawyn stepped forward. “Gareth. It’s Egwene. They have her.”
“The White Tower Aes Sedai?”
Gawyn nodded urgently.
“I know.” Bryne took another drink, then grimaced again.
“We have to go for her!” Gawyn said. “I came to ask you for help. I intend to mount a rescue.”
Bryne snorted softly. “A rescue? And how do you intend to get into the White Tower? Even the Aiel couldn’t break into that city.”
“They didn’t want to,” Gawyn said. “But I don’t need to take the city, I just need to sneak a small force in, then get one person out. Every rock has its cracks. I’ll find a way.”
Bryne set his cup aside. He looked at Gawyn, firm, weathered face an icon of nobility. “But tell me this, lad. How are you going to get her to come out with you?”
Gawyn started. “Why, she’ll be happy to come. Why wouldn’t she?”
“Because she’s forbidden us to rescue her,” Bryne said, clasping his hands behind his back again. “Or so I’ve been able to gather. The Aes Sedai tell me little. One would think they’d be more trusting toward a man they depend on to run this siege of theirs. Anyway, the Amyrlin can communicate with them somehow, and she’s instructed them to leave her be.”
What? That was ridiculous! Obviously, the Aes Sedai in camp were fudging the facts. “Bryne, she’s imprisoned! The Aes Sedai I heard talking said that she’s being beaten daily. They’ll execute her!”
“I don’t know,” Bryne said. “She’s been with them for weeks now and they haven’t killed her yet.”
“They’ll kill her,” Gawyn said urgently. “You know they will. Perhaps you parade a fallen enemy before your soldiers for a time, but eventually you have to mount his head on a pike to let them know he’s dead and gone. You know I’m right.”
Bryne regarded him, then nodded. “Perhaps I do. But there’s still nothing I can do. I’m bound by oaths, Gawyn. I can’t do anything unless that girl instructs me to.”
“You’d let her die?”
“If that’s what it takes to keep my oath, then yes.”
If Bryne was bound by oath . . . well, he’d sooner hear an Aes Sedai tell a lie than see Gareth Bryne break his word. But Egwene! There had to be something he could do!
“I’ll try to get you an audience with some of the Aes Sedai I serve,” Bryne said. “Perhaps they can do something. If you persuade them that a rescue is needed, and that the Amyrlin would want it, then we’ll see.”
Gawyn nodded. It was something at least. “Thank you.”
Bryne waved indifferently. “Though I should see you in the stocks. For wounding three of my men, if nothing else.”
“Have an Aes Sedai Heal them,” Gawyn said. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve no lack of sisters to bully you.”
“Bah,” Bryne said. “I can rarely get them to Heal anyone unless the soldier’s life is threatened. I had a man take a bad spill while riding the other day, and I was told that Healing would only teach him to be reckless. ‘Pain is its own lesson,’ the blasted woman said. ‘Perhaps next time he won’t see fit to make sport for his friends while riding.’ ”
Gawyn grimaced. “But surely they’ll make an exception for those men. After all, an enemy did do the wounding.”
“We’ll see,” Bryne said. “The sisters rarely visit the soldiers. They’ve their own business to be about.”
“There’s one in the outer camp now,” Gawyn said absently, glancing over his shoulder.
“Younger girl? Dark hair, without the ageless face?”
“No, this was an Aes Sedai. I could tell because of the face. She was kind of plump, with lighter hair.”
“Probably just scouting for Warders,” Bryne said, sighing. “They do that.”
“I don’t think so,” Gawyn said, glancing over his shoulder. “She was hiding among the washwomen.” As he thought about it, he realized that she could very well be a spy for the White Tower loyalists.
Bryne’s frown deepened. Perhaps he had the same thoughts. “Show me,” he said, striding toward the tent flaps. He threw them aside, walking back out into the morning light, Gawyn following.
“You never did explain what you are doing here, Gawyn,” Bryne said as they walked through the orderly camp, soldiers saluting their general as he passed.
“I told you,” Gawyn said, hand resting comfortably on the pommel of his sword. “I am going to find a way to get Egwene out of that death trap.”
“I didn’t mean what you’re doing in my camp. I meant why you were in the area in the first place. Why aren’t you back in Caemlyn, helping your sister?”
“You have news of Elayne,” Gawyn said, stopping. Light! He should have asked earlier. He really was tired. “I heard that she was in your camp earlier. She’s gone back to Caemlyn? Is she safe?”
“She hasn’t been with us for a long while,” Bryne said. “But she seems to be doing well.” He stopped, glancing at Gawyn. “You mean you don’t know?”
“What?”
“Well, rumors are unreliable,” Bryne said. “But I have confirmed many of them with the Aes Sedai, who have been Traveling to Caemlyn to listen for news. Your sister holds the Lion Throne. It seems that she’s undone much of the mess your mother left for her.”
Gawyn took a deep breath. Thank the Light, he thought, closing his eyes. Elayne lived. Elayne held the throne. He opened his eyes, and the overcast sky seemed a little more bright. He continued walking, Bryne falling into step beside him.
“You really didn’t know,” Bryne said. “Where have you been, lad? You’re the First Prince of the Sword now, or you will be once you return to Caemlyn! Your place is at your sister’s side.”
“Egwene first.”
“You made an oath,” Bryne said sternly. “Before me. Have you forgotten?”
“No,” Gawyn said. “But if Elayne has the throne, then she’s safe for now. I’ll get Egwene and tow her back to Caemlyn where I can keep an eye on her. Where I can keep an eye on both of them.”
Bryne snorted. “I think I’d like to watch you trying that first part,” he noted. “But regardless, why weren’t you there when Elayne was trying to take the throne? What have you been doing that is more important than that?”
“I . . . grew entangled,” Gawyn said, eyes forward.
“Entangled?” Bryne asked. “You were at the White Tower when all of this—” He cut off, falling silent. The two walked side by side for a moment.
“Where did you hear sisters talking about Egwene’s capture?” Bryne asked. “How would you know she’s being punished?”
Gawyn said nothing.
“Blood and bloody ashes!” Bryne exclaimed. The general rarely cursed. “I knew that the person leading those raids against me was too well informed. And here I was, looking for a leak among my officers!”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“I’ll judge that,” Bryne said. “You’ve been killing my men. Leading raids against me!”
“Leading raids against the rebels,” Gawyn said, turning hard eyes on Bryne. “You may blame me for bullying my way into your camp, but do you honestly expect me to feel guilty for helping the White Tower against the force besieging it?”
Bryne fell silent. Then he nodded curtly.
“Very well. But that makes you an enemy commander.”
“No longer,” Gawyn said. “I’ve left that command.”
“But—”
“I helped them,” Gawyn said. “I no longer do. Nothing I see here will return to your enemies, Bryne. I swear it on the Light.”
Bryne didn’t respond immediately. They passed tents, likely for the high officers, approaching the palisade wall. “Very well,” Bryne said. “I can trust you haven’t changed enough to break your word.”
“I wouldn’t turn against that oath,” Gawyn said harshly. “How could you think that I would?”
“I’ve had experience with unexpected renunciations of oaths lately,” Bryne said. “I said I believe you, lad. And I do. But you still haven’t explained why you didn’t return to Caemlyn.”
“Egwene was with the Aes Sedai,” Gawyn said. “As far as I knew, Elayne was as well. This seemed a good place to be, although I wasn’t certain I liked Elaida’s authority.”
“And what is Egwene to you?” Bryne asked softly.
Gawyn met his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I did.”
Strangely, Bryne chuckled. “I see. And I understand. Come, let’s find this Aes Sedai you think you saw.”
“I did see her, Gareth,” Gawyn said, nodding to the guards as they passed out the gates. The men saluted Bryne, but watched Gawyn as they would a blacklance. As well they should.
“We shall see what we find,” Bryne said. “Regardless, once I get you a meeting with the Aes Sedai leaders, I want your word that you’ll go back to Caemlyn. Leave Egwene to us. You need to help Elayne. It’s your place to be in Andor.”
“I could say the same of you.” Gawyn surveyed the teeming followers’ camp. Where had the woman been?
“You could,” Bryne said gruffly. “But it wouldn’t be true. Your mother saw to that.”
Gawyn glanced at him.
“She put me out to pasture, Gawyn. Banished me and threatened me with death.”
“Impossible!”
Bryne looked grim. “I felt the same way. But it is true nonetheless. The things she said . . . they stung, Gawyn. That they did indeed.”
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