The Wheel of Time

by Robert Jordan

  The enemy seemed endless. A slavering, rampaging horde without battle line or discipline. Anger, destruction incarnate. Thousands upon thousands of them. They came forward like floodwaters suddenly released, surging out of the canyon.

  Lan’s little force was but a pebble before them.

  The men silently raised their swords to him, a final salute.

  “Now!” Lan yelled. Now as they begin to spread out. It will do the most damage. Lan kicked Mandarb forward, leading the way.

  Andere galloped beside Lan, clinging to his pommel with both hands. He didn’t try to raise a weapon; he’d have fallen from his saddle if he had.

  Nynaeve was too far away for Lan to feel much of her through the bond, but sometimes very powerful emotions could stand out despite the distance. He tried to project confidence in case it reached her. Pride in his men. Love for her. He wished deeply for those to be the last things she remembered of him.

  My arm will be the sword …

  Hooves clattered on the ground. The Trollocs ahead hooted in delight, realizing that their prey had transformed a retreat into a charge of men rushing right into their grasp.

  My breast itself a shield …

  Lan could hear a voice, his father’s voice, speaking these words. That was foolish, of course. Lan had been a baby when Malkier had fallen.

  To defend the Seven Towers …

  He had never seen the Seven Towers stand against the Blight. He’d only heard stories.

  To hold back the darkness …

  The horses’ hooves were becoming a thunder. So loud, louder than he’d have thought possible. He held himself straight, sword out.

  I will stand when all others fall.

  The oncoming Trollocs leveled spears as the distance between the two opposing forces narrowed.

  Al Chalidholara Malkier. For my sweet land Malkier.

  It was the oath a Malkieri soldier took during their first posting to the Border. Lan had never spoken it.

  He did so now in his heart.

  “Al Chalidholara Malkier!” Lan screamed. “Lances, set!” Light, but those hoofbeats were loud! Could six thousand make so much noise? He turned to look at those behind him.

  At least ten thousand rode there.

  What?

  He pressed Mandarb forward through his surprise.

  “Forward the Golden Crane!”

  Voices, shouts, screams of power and joy.

  The air ahead to the left split with a sudden vertical slash. A gateway three dozen paces wide—as large as Lan had ever seen—opened as if into the sun itself. From the other side, the brightness spilled out, exploded out. Charging men in full armor burst from the gateway, falling into place at Lan’s flank. They flew the flag of Arafel.

  More gateways. Three, then four, then a dozen. Each broke the field in coordination, charging horsemen bursting forth with lances leveled, flying the flags of Saldaea, Shienar, Kandor. In seconds, his charge of six thousand had become a hundred thousand.

  Trollocs in the front lines screamed, and some of them stopped running. Some held steady, spears angled to impale oncoming horses. Bunching up behind them—not being able to see clearly what was happening in front—other enraged hordes pushed eagerly forward, waving large swords with scythelike blades and double-bitted battle-axes.

  Those Trollocs at the front, holding spears, exploded.

  From somewhere behind Lan, Asha’man began to send weaves to rip the earth, completely destroying the front ranks of Trollocs. As the carcasses collapsed to the ground, the middle ranks found themselves completely exposed, facing a storm of hooves, swords and lances.

  Lan hit, swinging, crashing Mandarb through the snarling Trollocs. Andere was laughing.

  “Back, you fool!” Lan yelled to him as he lashed out at the nearby Trollocs. “Direct the Asha’man to our wounded; have them protect the camp!”

  “I want to see you smile, Lan!” Andere shouted, clinging to his horse’s saddle. “Show more emotion than a stone, for once! Surely this deserves it!”

  Lan looked at the battle he’d never thought to win, seeing a last stand instead become a promising fight, and couldn’t help himself. He didn’t just smile, he laughed.

  Andere obeyed his order, riding off to seek Healing and organize the back lines.

  “Jophil,” Lan called. “Raise my banner high! Malkier lives on this day!”

  CHAPTER

  7

  Into the Thick of It

  Elayne stepped out of the pavilion after the meeting—and entered a grove of a dozen or so trees. And not just any trees: they were towering, healthy, huge-limbed, beautiful trees, hundreds of feet tall with massive trunks. The way she froze and gaped would have been embarrassing if everyone else hadn’t been doing the same. She looked to the side, where Egwene stood, mouth open, as she stared up into the huge trees. The sun still shone above, but the green leaves shaded the area, explaining why the light had dimmed inside the tent.

  “These trees,” Perrin said, stepping forward and resting his hand on the thick, ribbed bark. “I’ve seen Great Trees like this before. Inside a stedding.”

  Elayne embraced the Source. The glow of saidar was there, a warmth alongside that of the sun. She breathed in the Power, and was amused to notice that most of the women who could channel had done as she had the moment a stedding was mentioned.

  “Well, whatever Rand is now,” Egwene said, folding her arms, “he can’t just make stedding appear.” She seemed to find the thought comforting.

  “Where did he go?” Elayne asked.

  “He strolled out there,” Perrin said, waving toward the trees. “And vanished.”

  People were walking among the massive trunks: soldiers from the various camps, staring upward. She heard a Shienaran talking to Lord Agelmar close by. “We watched them grow, my Lord. They burst from the ground; it took less than five minutes for them to become so tall. I swear it, my Lord, or may I never draw blade again.”

  “All right,” Elayne said, releasing the Source. “Let’s begin. Nations are burning. Maps! We need maps!”

  The other rulers turned toward her. In the meeting, with Rand standing there, few of them had objected to her being chosen to lead them. That was how it could be around him; a person was swept up in the tides of Rand’s will. Things seemed so logical when he spoke of them.

  Many now looked displeased to have her put above them. Best to give them no time to dwell on it. “Where is Master Norry?” she said to Dyelin. “Could he have—”

  “I have maps, Your Majesty,” Gareth Bryne said as he left the pavilion, Siuan at his side.

  He seemed grayer than she remembered him; he wore a stiff white coat and trousers, the breast marked with the Flame of Tar Valon. He bowed in respect, but did not step too close. His uniform made his allegiance plain, as did Siuan’s protective hand on his arm.

  Elayne remembered him standing with that same quiet expression behind her mother. Never presuming, always protecting the Queen. That queen had put him out to pasture. That event hadn’t been Elayne’s fault, but she could read the breached trust in Bryne’s face.

  Elayne could not change what had come and gone. She could look only to the future. “If you have maps of this area and the potential battlefields presented to us, Lord Bryne, we would love to see them. I would like maps for the area between here and Caemlyn, a detailed map of Kandor and your best maps of the other Borderland areas.” To the rulers, she continued, “Gather your commanders and advisors! We must meet immediately with the other great captains to discuss our next course of action.”

  It didn’t take long, though the confusion was pervasive as two dozen different factions set to work. Servants pulled open the sides of the pavilion, and Elayne ordered Sumeko to gather Kinswomen and guards to fetch tables and some chairs through a gateway from her camp. Elayne also sent for specific reports of what was happening at the Gap, where Rand had asked the bulk of the Borderlander armies to go and rescue Lan. The rulers and great captains had
remained behind for the planning.

  Shortly, Elayne and Egwene stood surveying Bryne’s detailed maps, which had been spread out across four tables. The rulers stood back and allowed the commanders to deliberate.

  “This is good work, Bryne,” Lord Agelmar said. The Shienaran was one of the four remaining great captains. Bryne was another. The final two great captains—Davram Bashere and Rodel Ituralde—stood side by side at the end of another table, making corrections to a map of the western Borderlands. Ituralde had bags under his eyes, and his hands sometimes shook. From what Elayne had heard, he had suffered quite an ordeal in Maradon, having been rescued only very recently. She was surprised he was here, actually.

  “All right,” Elayne said to the assembly. “We must fight. But how? Where?”

  “Large forces of Shadowspawn have invaded three locations,” Bryne said. “Caemlyn, Kandor and Tarwin’s Gap. The Gap should not be abandoned, assuming our armies are enough to help Lord Mandragoran stabilize there. The likely result of our push there today will be the Shadowspawn pulling back into the pass. Keeping the enemy plugged up there is an unsuitable task for the Malkieri heavy cavalry alone. Perhaps we would best send him some pike companies? If he continues to plug that breach, we can devote the majority of our forces to combat in Andor and Kandor.”

  Agelmar nodded. “Yes. That should be viable if we give Dai Shan the proper support. But we cannot risk letting Shienar become overrun as Kandor was. If they push out of the Gap…”

  “We are prepared for an extended battle,” King Easar said. “Kandor’s resistance and Lan’s fight at the Gap have given us the time we need. Our people are pulling into our fortresses. We can hold, even if we lose the Gap.”

  “Brave words, Your Majesty,” Gareth Bryne said, “but it would be best if we did not have to test the Shienarans in that way. Let us plan to hold the Gap with whatever force it takes to do so.”

  “And Caemlyn?” Elayne asked.

  Ituralde nodded. “An enemy force that deep behind our lines, with a Waygate to use for reinforcements … that is trouble.”

  “Early reports from this morning,” Elayne said, “indicate they’re staying put for the time being. They burned large quarters of the city, but left other sections alone—and now that they have the city, the Trollocs have been set to work smothering the flames.”

  “They will have to leave eventually,” Bryne said. “But it will be better if we can flush them out sooner, rather than later.”

  “Why not consider a siege?” Agelmar asked. “I think the bulk of our armies should go to Kandor. I would not let the Throne of the Clouds and the Three Halls of Trade fall as did the Seven Towers.”

  “Kandor already has fallen,” Prince Antol said softly.

  The great captains looked at the eldest son of the Kandori queen. A tall man, he had a silent way about him. Now he spoke boldly. “My mother fights for our country,” he said, “but it is a fight of vengeance and redemption. Kandor burns, and it rips my heart to know it, but we cannot stop that. Give Andor your greatest attention; it is too tactically important to ignore, and I would not see another land fall as mine has.”

  The others nodded. “Wise advice, Highness,” Bashere said. “Thank you.”

  “Also, do not forget Shayol Ghul,” Rhuarc said from the periphery, where he stood alongside Perrin, some Aes Sedai and several other Aiel chiefs. The great captains turned toward Rhuarc, as if having forgotten he was there.

  “The Car’a’carn soon will assault Shayol Ghul,” Rhuarc said. “He will need spears at his back when he does so.”

  “He will have them,” Elayne said. “Though that means four battlefronts. Shayol Ghul, Tarwin’s Gap, Kandor and Caemlyn.”

  “Let us focus on Caemlyn first,” Ituralde said. “I don’t like the idea of a siege there. We need to flush the Trollocs out. If we simply besiege them, it gives them more time to reinforce their numbers through that Waygate. We have to take them out now, on our terms.”

  Agelmar nodded with a grunt, looking at the map of Caemlyn an aide had put on the table. “Can we stanch that flow? Retake the Waygate?”

  “I’ve tried,” Elayne said. “This morning, we sent three separate forces through a gateway into the basement with the Waygate, but the Shadow is prepared and entrenched. None of the forces returned. I don’t know if we can take the Waygate back, or even destroy it.”

  “What if we tried from the other side?” Agelmar asked.

  “The other side?” Elayne asked. “You mean from inside the Ways?”

  Agelmar nodded.

  “Nobody travels the Ways,” Ituralde said, aghast.

  “The Trollocs do,” Agelmar said.

  “I’ve been through them,” Perrin said, approaching the table. “And I’m sorry, my Lords, but I don’t think that taking the Waygate from the other side would work. From what I understand, we couldn’t destroy it—even with the One Power. And we couldn’t hold it inside, not with the Black Wind in there. Our best choice is to somehow get those Trollocs out of Caemlyn and then hold this side of the Waygate. If it is properly guarded, the Shadow would never be able to use it against us.”

  “Very well,” Elayne said. “We will consider other options. Though, it occurs to me that we should send to the Black Tower for their Asha’man also. How many are there?”

  Perrin cleared his throat. “I think you might want to be careful about that place, Your Majesty. Something’s going on there.”

  Elayne frowned. “‘Something’?”

  “I don’t know,” Perrin said. “I spoke to Rand about it, and he was worried, and said he was going to investigate. Anyway … just be careful.”

  “I’m always careful,” Elayne said absently. “So how do we get those Trollocs out of Caemlyn?”

  “Perhaps we can hide a large assault force in Braem Wood; it’s here, almost fifty leagues north of Caemlyn.” Bryne pointed at the map. “If a smaller company of soldiers were to go up to the city gates and get the Trollocs to chase them back to the Wood as bait in the trap … I always worried that an invading army would use the Wood for cover as a base for attacking the city. I never thought I’d be considering the same option myself.”

  “Interesting,” Agelmar said, studying a map of the terrain around Caemlyn. “That seems like a solid prospect.”

  “But what of Kandor?” Bashere asked. “The Prince is right that the country is beyond rescue, but we cannot simply let the Trollocs pour out into other lands.”

  Ituralde scratched at his chin. “This entire matter is going to be difficult. Three Trolloc armies, with us forced to divide our attention between them. Yes, more and more, I realize that the right move is to focus on one of them and set delaying forces against the other two.”

  “The Shadow’s army at Caemlyn is likely the smallest,” Agelmar said, “as the size of the Waygate has restricted their entry into the city.”

  “Yes,” Bashere agreed. “Our chance for a quick victory on one of the battlefronts is best at Caemlyn. We should strike hard there with the largest of our assault forces. If we can win in Andor, it will reduce the number of fronts we have to fight on—and that will be extremely advantageous.”

  “Yes,” Elayne said. “We reinforce Lan, but tell him that his job will be to hold there as long as he can. We place a second force at the border of Kandor, with the purpose of delaying there as well—perhaps a slow withdrawal, as conditions dictate. While those two fronts are held, we can focus our true attention—and our largest army—at breaking the Trollocs in Caemlyn.”

  “Good,” Agelmar said. “I like it. But what force do we place in Kandor? What army can slow the Trollocs, but won’t require a large commitment of troops?”

  “The White Tower?” Elayne asked. “If we send the Aes Sedai to Kandor, they can slow the Trollocs’ advance across the border. That will let the rest of us concentrate on Caemlyn.”

  “Yes,” Bryne said. “I like it.”

  “And what of the fourth battlefront?” Ituralde ask
ed. “Shayol Ghul? Does anyone know what the Lord Dragon plans there?”

  Nobody spoke.

  “The Aiel will see to his needs,” Amys said from beside the clan chiefs. “You needn’t worry about us. Make your battle plans, and we will make ours.”

  “No,” Elayne said.

  “Elayne?” Aviendha said. “We—”

  “This is precisely what Rand wished to avoid,” Elayne said forcefully. “The Aiel will work with the rest of us. The battle at Shayol Ghul could be the most important of all. I won’t have one group presuming to keep to themselves and fight alone. You’ll accept our help.”

  And, she added to herself, our direction. The Aiel were excellent warriors, but there were some things they just wouldn’t admit. The usefulness of cavalry, for one.

  The Aiel obviously did not like the prospect of wetlander command. They bristled, eyes narrowing.

  “The Aiel are excellent irregulars,” Bryne said, looking to them. “I faced you on the Blood Snow, and I know how deadly you can be. However, if the Lord Dragon attacks Shayol Ghul, we will likely need to seize the valley and then hold it for as long as it takes him to battle with the Dark One. I don’t know how long that will take, but it could take hours. Days. Tell me, have you ever had to entrench and fight a protracted, defensive war?”

  “We will do what needs to be done,” Rhuarc said.

  “Rhuarc,” Elayne said. “You yourselves insisted on signing the Dragon’s Peace. You yourselves insisted that you be part of our coalition. I expect you to live up to your word. You will do as you are told.”

  Bryne’s and Ituralde’s questions had set them off, but being told directly what to do made them back down. Rhuarc nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I have toh.”

  “Meet it by listening,” Elayne said, “and offering your opinion. If we’re going to fight on four different fronts at once, we’ll need a lot of coordination.” She looked at the gathered generals. “It occurs to me. We have four battlefronts, and four great captains…”

  Bashere nodded. “No coincidence, that.”