Nynaeve nodded.
“First intersection is the one outside my room,” Egwene said. “Hallway on the south side. I’ll flood it with light; you be ready. From there, we’ll jump down one hallway, by the door into the servants’ ramp. Then on down the line.”
Nynaeve nodded sharply.
The world winked around Egwene. She appeared in the hallway, and immediately thought of the place lit, imposing her will upon it. Light flooded the entire space. A round-faced woman crouched near the side of the wall, wearing white. Sedore, one of the Black sisters.
Sedore spun, looking angry, weaves springing up around her. Egwene worked faster, creating a column of fire right before Sedore would have released her own. No weaves on Egwene’s part. Just the fire.
Egwene saw the Black’s eyes open wider as the fire roared around her. Sedore screeched, but that cut off as the heat consumed her. Her burned corpse collapsed to the floor, smoldering.
Egwene let out a relieved breath. “Anyone on your side?”
“No,” Nynaeve said. “Who was that you hit?”
“Sedore.”
“Really?” Nynaeve said, turning. She had been a Sitter for the Yellow.
Egwene smiled. “Next hallway.”
They jumped, and repeated their strategy, flooding the hallway with light. There was nobody there, so they moved on. The next two hallways were empty. Egwene was about to leave when a voice hissed, “Foolish child! Your pattern is obvious.”
Egwene spun. “Where…”
She cut off as she saw Bair. The aged Wise One had changed her clothing and even her skin itself to match the white walls and floor tiles. She was practically invisible, crouching in an alcove.
“You shouldn’t—” Bair began.
A wall beside them exploded outward, throwing up chunks of rock. Six women stood beyond, and they released weaves of Fire.
It appeared that the time for sneaking had ended.
Perrin crested the wall surrounding the White Tower grounds, coming down with a thump. The strangeness of the wolf dream continued; he now not only smelled odd scents, but heard odd sounds as well. Rumblings from inside the Tower.
He leaped after Slayer, who crossed the grounds, then ran up the outside of the Tower itself. Perrin followed, running up into the air. Slayer stayed just ahead, ter’angreal pouch tied at his waist.
Perrin created a longbow. He pulled it back, freezing in place, standing on the side of the Tower. He loosed, but the wolf-killer leaped up, then fell into the Tower through a window. The arrow passed overhead.
Perrin leaped to the window, then ducked inside, Hopper leaping in after him, leaving a blur behind. They entered a bedroom hung with brocades of blue. The door slammed, and Perrin charged after Slayer. He didn’t bother to open the door; he smashed it with his hammer.
Slayer charged down a hallway.
Follow, Perrin sent to Hopper. I’ll cut him off.
The wolf raced forward, after Slayer. Perrin ran to the right, then cut down a hallway. He moved quickly, the walls speeding past.
He passed a hallway that appeared to be full of people. He was so surprised that he froze, the hall lurching around him.
They were Aes Sedai, and they were fighting. The hallway was alight, trails of fire flying from one end to the other. The sounds he’d heard before hadn’t been phantoms. And, he thought, yes…
“Egwene?” Perrin asked.
She stood pressed against the wall nearby, intently looking down the hallway. When he spoke, she spun on him, hands going up. He felt something grab him. His mind instantly reacted, however, pushing the air away.
Egwene started as she failed to snatch him.
He stepped forward. “Egwene, you shouldn’t be here. This place is dangerous.”
“Perrin?”
“I don’t know how you got here,” Perrin said. “But you need to go. Please.”
“How did you stop me?” she demanded. “What are you doing here? Have you been with Rand? Tell me where he is.”
She spoke with such authority now. She almost seemed a different person, decades older than the girl he’d known. Perrin opened his mouth to reply, but Egwene cut him off.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said. “I’m sorry, Perrin. I’ll be back for you.” She raised a hand, and he felt things change around him. Ropes appeared, binding him.
He looked down, amused. The ropes slipped free the moment he thought of them being too loose.
Egwene blinked, watching them drop to the ground. “How—”
Someone burst out of a room nearby, a tall, slender-necked woman with raven hair, wearing a sleek white dress. She smiled, raising her hands, and a light appeared before her.
Perrin didn’t need to know what she was doing. He was a wolf; he was the ruler of this place. Weaves were meaningless. He imagined the woman’s attack missing him; he knew it would be so.
A bar of white-hot light shot from the woman. Perrin raised a hand before himself and Egwene. The light vanished, as if stopped by his palm.
Egwene turned, and the wall above the woman burst, rock showering down. A chunk smashed the woman on the head brutally, knocking her to the ground. Light, she was probably dead, after a blow like that.
Egwene smelled amazed. She spun on him. “Balefire? You stopped balefire? Nothing should be able to do that.”
“It’s just a weave,” Perrin said, reaching out for Hopper. Where was Slayer?
“It’s not just a weave, Perrin, it’s—”
“I’m sorry, Egwene,” he said. “I will speak to you later. Be careful in this place. You probably already know that you need to be, but still. It’s more dangerous than you know.”
He turned and ran, leaving Egwene sputtering. It seemed she’d managed to become an Aes Sedai. That was good; she deserved it.
Hopper? he sent. Where are you?
His only reply was a sudden, terrifying, sending of pain.
Gawyn fought for his life against three living shadows of darkness and steel.
They pressed him to the utmost of his ability, leaving him bloodied half a dozen times over on arms and legs. He used The Cyclone Rages, and it defended his vitals. Barely.
Drops of his blood stained the gauze draping Egwene’s bed. If his opponents had already killed Egwene, then they made a good show of continuing to threaten her.
He was growing weak and tired. His boots left bloody prints when he stepped. He couldn’t feel the pain. His parries were becoming sluggish. They’d have him in another moment or two.
No help came, although his voice was hoarse from yelling. Fool! he thought. You need to spend more time thinking and less time running straight into danger! He should have alerted the entire Tower.
The only reason he was alive was because the three were being careful, wearing him down. Once he fell, that sul’dam had indicated they would go on a rampage through the White Tower. It would take the Aes Sedai completely by surprise. This night could be a disaster greater than the original Seanchan strike had been.
The three moved forward.
No! Gawyn thought as one of them tried The River Undercuts the Bank. He leaped forward, dodging between two blades, swinging his weapon. Amazingly, he actually struck, and a voice cried out in the room. Blood sprayed across the ground, one shadowy form falling.
The two others muttered curses, and all pretense of wearing him down vanished. They struck at him, weapons flashing amid dark mist. Exhausted, Gawyn took another hit on the shoulder, blood trickling down his arm beneath his coat.
Shadows. How could a man be expected to fight against shadows? It was impossible!
Where there is light, there must be shadow…
A last, desperate thought occurred to him. With a cry, he leaped to the side and yanked a pillow from Egwene’s bed. Blades cut the air around him as he spun and slammed the pillow on the lantern, smothering it.
Plunging the room into darkness. No light. No shadows.
Equality.
The darkness evened out everything, and in the night, you couldn’t see color. He couldn’t see the blood on his arms, couldn’t see the black shadows of his enemies or the whiteness of Egwene’s bed. But he could hear the men move.
He raised his blade for a desperate strike, using Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose, predicting where the Bloodknives would move. He was no longer distracted by their misted figures, and his strike hit true, sinking into flesh.
He twisted, yanking his blade free. The room fell silent save for the fall of the man he’d hit. Gawyn held his breath, heartbeat thumping in his ears. Where was the last assassin?
No light came in from the room next door; Celark had fallen beside the doorway, blocking the light underneath.
Gawyn was feeling shaky now. He’d lost too much blood. If he had something to throw to create a distraction…but no. Moving would rustle clothing, would give him away.
So, gritting his teeth, he tapped his foot and raised his blade to protect his neck, praying to the Light that the attack came low.
It did, cutting deeply into his side. He took it with a grunt, but immediately lashed out with all he had. His sword hissed, and with a brief tug it sliced true. A thump followed; a decapitated head bouncing off the wall, followed by the noise of a corpse hitting the ground.
Gawyn slumped against the bed, blood gushing from his side. He was blacking out, although it was hard to tell in the unlit room.
He reached for where he remembered Egwene’s hand being, but was too weak to find it.
He hit the floor a moment later. His last thought was that he still didn’t know whether or not she was dead.
“Great Mistress,” Katerine said, kneeling before Mesaana, “we cannot find the thing you describe. Half of our women search for it while the other half fight the worms who resist. But it is nowhere!”
Mesaana folded her arms beneath her breasts as she considered the situation. With an offhanded thought, she strapped Katerine’s back with lines of Air. Failure needed always to be punished. Consistency was the key in all forms of training.
The White Tower rumbled above her, though she was safe here. She’d imposed her will on this area, creating a new room beneath the basements, carved as a pocket in the stone. The children who fought above obviously thought themselves practiced in this place, but children they were. She had been coming to Tel’aran’rhiod for a century before her imprisonment.
The Tower rumbled again. Carefully, she considered her situation. Somehow, the Aes Sedai had found a dreamspike. How had they located such a treasure? Mesaana was nearly as interested in gaining control of it as she was in dominating the child Amyrlin, Egwene al’Vere. The ability to forbid gateways into your places of refuge…Well, it was a vital tool, particularly when she decided to move against the other Chosen. It was more effective than wards, protecting one’s dreams from any intrusion, and it stopped all forms of Traveling in or out of the area except for those allowed.
However, with the dreamspike in place, she also could not move this battle with the children above to a more suitable, carefully selected location. Aggravating. But no, she would not allow herself to become emotional about the situation.
“Return above and concentrate everything on capturing the woman Egwene al’Vere,” Mesaana said. “She will know where the device is.” Yes, that was clear to her now. She would achieve two victories with a single act.
“Yes…Mistress…” Katerine was still cowering, straps of Air beating against her back. Ah, yes. Mesaana waved curtly, dispelling the weave. As she did so, a thought occurred to her.
“Wait here, a moment,” she said to Katerine. “I’m going to place a weave upon you….”
Perrin appeared on the very top of the White Tower.
Slayer held Hopper by the scruff of his neck. The wolf had an arrow through his side; blood ran down his paw. Wind blew across the rock, catching the blood and spraying it across the stones.
“Hopper!” Perrin took a step forward. He could still sense Hopper’s mind, though it was weak.
Slayer held the wolf up, lifting him easily. He raised a knife.
“No,” Perrin said. “You have what you want. Just go.”
“And what was it you said earlier?” Slayer asked. “That you know where I would go, and you’d follow? The dreamspike is too easy to locate on this side.”
He casually tossed the wolf off the side of the Tower.
“NO!” Perrin screamed. He leaped for the side, but Slayer appeared beside him, grabbing him, raising his dagger. The leap knocked them both off the side of the Tower, Perrin’s stomach lurching as they fell.
He tried to send himself away, but Slayer had hold of him, and he tried very hard to keep them in place. They shook for a moment, but kept falling.
Slayer was so strong. He smelled wrong, like staleness and wolf’s blood. His knife sought Perrin’s throat, and the best Perrin could do was raise his arm to block, thinking of his shirt being as hard as steel.
Slayer pressed harder. Perrin felt a moment of weakness, the wound across his chest throbbing as he and Slayer tumbled. The knife split Perrin’s sleeve and rammed into his forearm.
Perrin screamed. The wind was so loud. It had been mere seconds. Slayer pulled the knife free.
Hopper!
Perrin roared and kicked at Slayer, pushing him away, breaking his grip. Arm aflame, Perrin twisted in the air. The ground rushed at them. He willed himself to another place, and he appeared just below Hopper, catching the wolf and crashing into the ground. His knees buckled; the ground around him shattered. But he lowered Hopper safely.
A black-fletched arrow zipped from the sky and pierced Hopper’s back, passing all the way through the wolf and hitting Perrin in his thigh, which was bent at the knee just beneath the wolf.
Perrin yelled, feeling his own pain mix with a sudden wash of agony from Hopper. The wolf’s mind was fading.
“No!” Perrin sent, eyes wet with tears.
Young Bull… Hopper sent.
Perrin tried to send himself away, but his mind was fuzzy. Another arrow would soon fall. He knew it. He managed to roll out of the way as it struck the ground, but his leg no longer worked, and Hopper was so heavy. Perrin pitched to the ground, dropping the wolf, rolling.
Slayer landed a short distance away, long, wicked black bow in hand. “Goodbye, Aybara.” Slayer raised his bow. “Looks like I kill five wolves today.”
Perrin stared up at the arrow. Everything was blurry.
I can’t leave Faile. I can’t leave Hopper.
I won’t!
As Slayer released, Perrin desperately imagined himself strong, not faint. He felt his heart become hale again, his veins filling with energy. He yelled, head clearing enough to make himself vanish and appear standing behind Slayer.
He swung with his hammer.
Slayer turned casually and blocked it with his arm, which was enormously strong. Perrin fell to one knee, the pain in his leg still there. He gasped.
“You can’t heal yourself,” Slayer said. “There are ways, but simply imagining yourself well does not work. You do seem to have figured out how to replenish your blood, however, which is useful.”
Perrin smelled something. Terror. Was it his own?
No. No, there. Behind Slayer was a doorway open into the White Tower. Inside was blackness. Not just shadow, blackness. Perrin had done enough practice with Hopper to recognize what it was.
A nightmare.
As Slayer opened his mouth to say something, Perrin growled and threw all of his weight forward, ramming into Slayer. His leg screamed in pain.
They tumbled directly into the blackness of the nightmare.
Chapter 38
Wounds
Spurts of fire flashed through the dark hallways of the White Tower, leaving trails of smoke that curled in the air, thick and pungent. People screamed and yelled and cursed. The walls shook as blasts took them; chips and chunks of rock sprayed off weaves of Air crafted for protection.
There. Egwene noted a place where several Black sisters were lobbing fire down the hallway. Evanellein was there.
Egwene sent herself into the room next to the one where they were standing; she could hear them on the other side of the wall. She opened her hands and released a powerful blast of Earth and Fire directly at the wall, blowing it outward.
The women beyond stumbled and fell, Evanellein collapsing, bloodied. The other woman was quick enough to send herself away.
Egwene checked to see that Evanellein was dead. She was. Egwene nodded with satisfaction; Evanellein was one of those that she’d been most eager to find. Now if she could only track down Katerine or Alviarin.
Channeling. Behind her. Egwene threw herself to the ground as a blast of Fire sprayed over her head. Mesaana, black cloth swirling about her. Egwene gritted her teeth and sent herself away. She didn’t dare face the woman directly.
Egwene appeared in a storage room not far away, then stumbled as a blast shook the area. She waved a hand, making a window in the door, and saw Amys charging past. The Wise One wore cadin’sor and carried spears. Her shoulder was bleeding and blackened. Another blast hit near her, but she vanished. That blast made the air outside swelter, melting Egwene’s window and forcing her to step back.
Saerin’s research had been correct. Despite the open battle, Mesaana had not fled nor hidden, as Moghedien might have. Perhaps she was confident. Perhaps she was frightened; likely, she needed Egwene’s death to prove a victory before the Dark One.
Egwene took a deep breath and prepared to return to the fighting. She hesitated, however, thinking of Perrin’s appearance. He’d acted as if she were a novice. How had he grown so confident, so strong? She hadn’t been surprised by the things he’d done so much as by the fact that he had been the one doing them.
His appearance was a lesson. Egwene had to be very careful not to rely on her weaves. Bair couldn’t channel, but she was as effective as the others. However, it did seem that for some things, weaves were better. Blowing the wall outward, for instance, had seemed easier with a weave than by imagining it, where imposing her will against so large and thick surface might have been difficult.
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