He handled each small problem in turn, then took reports from the Aiel he’d sent to scout across nearby bridges, just in case. Loial would never have allowed people to separate from the group like that, but Perrin wasn’t Loial, and he felt he was capable of judging what risks his troops could and couldn’t take.
Indeed, he lost none of the Aiel pairs to the darkness. They each reported back in turn. As he listened to what they said—nothing out of the ordinary—he noticed Edarra stopping to listen. They hadn’t gone running to her first, as they once would have, before bringing word to him.
The camp was settling down, and the soldiers seemed to get to sleep faster than he ever had in this place. He did note that the two Aiel who were on watch duty—Aviellin and Sulin—walked over and joined the other soldiers on duty, who were sitting around a very small fire. They settled down, and Sulin began talking in an animated way.
Two from each group, he noted. Whitecloak sitting next to Two Rivers man, Mayener and Ghealdanin sharing a waterskin. And even the Aiel, telling stories for the others. He didn’t catch all of what Sulin said to them, but it seemed to be a characteristically Aiel story, as the men looked baffled to hear it—though they did smile and ask her for another.
“I don’t know that I realized what you were doing here, Perrin Aybara,” Edarra said. “No, not until this trip.”
He started, having forgotten she was still sitting nearby, next to one of the lanterns.
“I assumed that once this was all done, we’d return to the Three-fold Land,” she continued. “Continue to live apart from wetlanders and their soft ways. And yet, these months traveling with you have . . . made me wonder. You are building something grand here, which should not surprise me as it does. The touch of the blacksmith. You employ it as quietly, but as surely, as the best spear seeking gai’shain.”
He didn’t know how to interpret that. “Conflict brings people together,” he said with a grunt, finishing off his jerky. “I haven’t done anything special, Edarra. Except maybe keep some wool-headed fools from one another’s throats long enough for them to realize who the real enemy is.”
“You build,” she said again. “And where you make shade, strangely, I find myself wanting to follow. Once, I would have said that you should abandon these wetlanders, and travel only with us into this darkness. What would you need of anyone but us? The wetlanders only slow us, and make noise.
“Yet today, I see what you are doing. And I find that I would have been wrong to make this suggestion. There is a wisdom in you, Perrin Aybara. I do not say this lightly.”
He looked again at the small campfire. He’d ordered a small amount of wood brought, knowing they’d be grateful for it during the night they would need to spend here. There was something special happening in his group. Whitecloaks, Ghealdanin, and Mayeners chatting together, and listening to Aiel stories.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have worried about such things in the face of the Last Battle. Yet something whispered to him that if life went on after the battle—and he was going to do everything under the Light to make sure it did—it would be important that each of these groups felt they had taken part in the accomplishment.
Edarra was staring out into the darkness. “There’s something about this place,” she said thoughtfully. “It reminds me of the World of Dreams.”
“You’re a Dreamwalker?” Perrin asked with surprise.
“No,” Edarra said. “I always hoped to become one. As a younger girl, I . . . But no. That is not worth speaking. I have no personal experience, but this place reminds me of what others have said of entering Tel’aran’rhiod. A black emptiness that goes on forever. A place where nothing feels quite as it should.”
“There are similarities,” Perrin said, which caused her to glance at him and cock her head. “But the World of Dreams is not so bleak. It’s not a place of infinite darkness, but a place of infinite possibility.” He chewed on the cheese he’d been given. He didn’t hunger for it—he hadn’t even hungered for the jerky. Something about this place had always dampened his appetite. “I won’t be able to go there so long as we travel in here, and I regret that. I need to return, and go there in my strength. Enter the World of Dreams physically.”
She looked at him sharply. “Do not think of that, Perrin Aybara. It is evil.”
Perrin didn’t reply. He’d been rambling, and perhaps shouldn’t have even spoken.
But another problem loomed over him, one that would demand his attention once this mission was through. Strength in the wolf dream—in Tel’aran’rhiod—involved a delicate balance. The more you pushed yourself into the dream—the more solidly there you became—the more powerful you were. However, you also risked entering too strongly and dying in the real world.
Slayer was strong there, so very strong. Perrin needed an edge, a way to defeat him. He rested his hand on his hammer, feeling the warmth inside.
This will not end, he thought, until you are the prey, Slayer. Hunter of wolves. I will end you.
“In many ways,” Edarra muttered, looking at him, “you are still a foolish child, for all the ji you have found.”
So much for her calling him wise. Well, Perrin had grown accustomed to—though not fond of—being addressed in such a way by women who looked not a year or two older than he. “You cannot enter the World of Dreams in your flesh, Perrin Aybara. None of the Dreamwalkers will teach you this thing. It is evil.”
“Can you tell me why?” Perrin said.
“To enter into the World of Dreams in the flesh is to lose part of yourself,” Edarra said. “I only know that, and it would be wisdom to accept the wisdom in it, Perrin Aybara.”
Perrin nodded, though it was nothing more than he’d been told before. What did it mean? What was the real risk?
The servants of the Shadow take these risks, Perrin thought. What risks must we take to stop them? He’d been willing to come here, to risk being lost in an eternal darkness—or to the madness of the Black Wind. Others would call this one step too far, but Perrin suspected it would only be the first of many for him.
CHAPTER 5
Fingernail on Stone
Two Trollocs sniffed at the air, looking lazily about themselves in the darkness. One had the ears and snout of a wolf, something that made Perrin’s hair stand on end. Its legs bent like a wolf’s, though the hands were distinctly human. The bear Trolloc beside it had an almost human face, with human teeth and a human eyebrow ridge, yet fur on its hands.
People who heard Trollocs described often imagined them to be people, just with animal heads. Such descriptions didn’t do justice to the disconcerting amalgamation they were. Each one had some human features—particularly the eyes—grossly melded with those of something distinctly inhuman. It wasn’t that they looked like beast parts chopped up and mixed with human ones. Instead, they were a terrible perversion of both. A horror that had too much beast to ever be tamed, but too much man to ever be trusted.
Worst, Trollocs smelled wrong. Musky, but also faintly of rotting meat. Perhaps that came from shreds of their meals, caught in fur or under nails. No right animal would ever be so unclean.
The Trollocs, with their sputtering lanterns on poles, stood in the very middle of the bridge from one Island to the next. They had a suspicious amount of light on them—not just the two lanterns on poles, but three more bright lanterns at their feet. Perrin had never known Trollocs to need light in the outside world, but the blackness of the Ways was complete. So he supposed it wasn’t odd that they would bring some light. But so much?
Perhaps they were just naturally afraid of this darkness. They didn’t seem terribly concerned, however, as they spoke to one another in rough voices in a language that Perrin didn’t speak—and had no care to learn.
Gaul nudged him, and the two slid quietly back down the stone bridge and into the darkness. They hadn’t brought lights, of course. Trollocs had senses as good as Perrin’s; they would notice light, or they might smell something burning.
That meant, however, that Perrin and Gaul had to cross back to the waiting force in the dark. And crossing that bridge in the blackness—knowing that if he misstepped, he’d tumble into eternity—sent a shiver through Perrin like the feeling of a spider crawling up his spine. He let out a deep breath when he caught the sliver of light from a shielded lantern ahead. Four more Aiel crouched around it, including Sulin.
Perrin and Gaul had left their shoes here, after taking them off to prowl forward in silence. Notably, the Aiel hadn’t questioned Perrin when he’d wanted to go with them to investigate the light; he had begun to think they respected his abilities as a woodsman.
“Those Trollocs are guarding the path for certain,” Perrin said softly, crouching down near the lantern.
“We can take them,” Sulin said softly.
Perrin shook his head. “Those two have a lot of light on them, and they’re being loud. Something about this feels wrong. Like they’re bait.”
The little group fell silent.
“If I thought I might be followed,” Gaul said slowly, “by soldiers who are quiet and dangerous, I might consider such a thing. Put out two guards I know will be spotted, then watch to see who emerges from the darkness to confront them.”
“It is done sometimes,” Sulin agreed. “Two rows of guard posts, the outer of which must report frequently to confirm nothing is wrong.”
Gaul nodded. “Very well. Just in case, I will sneak past these two and learn if there are any others beyond.”
“Sneak past?” Sulin asked. “Stone Dog, the bridge is crumbling, and isn’t two paces wide from side to side. The Trollocs stand in the center. How would you sneak past them?”
Gaul smiled, then slipped back into the darkness. Perrin glanced at Sulin, and she shielded her lantern fully. Together, they all followed after Gaul, feeling for the edge of the bridge with their toes as they crept forward.
Gaul crouched where Perrin and he had been watching a few moments before; Perrin could barely make him out in the faint light of the Trollocs’ lanterns. When Perrin and the four Maidens arrived, Gaul glanced at them—then slipped over the side of the bridge.
Perrin’s breath caught. What was Gaul doing?
There. Gaul had lowered himself, and now clung to the bridge by only the tips of his fingers. He began to inch to the side, moving one hand, then the other—not making any noise, not even a scrape of fingernail on stone. Light, he hung vertically from the bridge, dangling over that infinite darkness. Perrin could only imagine how that might feel.
The Trollocs seemed oblivious. One of the two sat down and began gnawing on something while the other yawned, its wolf’s tongue stretching out. Perrin held his breath, fingers tight against the top of his hammer as Gaul neared the Trollocs. Perrin thought for sure the man would fall at any moment; just watching made his arms ache with fatigue.
Don’t you drop, Perrin thought. Don’t you dare let go, Gaul.
Gaul’s fingers passed within mere inches of the Trollocs, but they didn’t notice. However, when the bone snapped suddenly in the bear Trolloc’s mouth, Perrin did jump slightly in startlement.
Ashamed, Perrin glanced to the side—where Sulin hunkered down further beside him. He caught a whiff of embarrassment from her, and realized that she’d also jumped at the sound.
Well, a part of him was glad for the sign of her tension. Gaul had acted as if this type of extreme activity was commonplace among the Aiel. The fact that Sulin was nervous indicated otherwise.
Perrin and the four Maidens waited until Gaul’s fingers inched out of sight into the darkness beyond the Trollocs. Then they waited some more. It occurred to Perrin that if Gaul fell, he would probably maintain his warrior’s silence, lest he give them all away. He wouldn’t yell; he would simply vanish.
Moments stretched into minutes. Perrin grew increasingly anxious. What if Gaul had encountered trouble? What if he had run into Shadowspawn? What if he was out there in the darkness, bleeding and dying?
When Perrin had nearly taken all he could—when he was about to charge the Trollocs himself—something flew out of the darkness. The spear fell like a striking raven. It took the wolf Trolloc in the throat; the creature gurgled in pain, eyes opening wide as it stumbled back. The bear Trolloc turned with a start, and Gaul leaped from the darkness, knife in hand.
The Trolloc opened its mouth, and then Gaul hit, clinging to the ten-foot-tall beast and ramming his knife into its eye before it could scream for help. The two dropped, Gaul yanking out his knife and slamming it into the other eye.
Perrin charged forward, but he’d taken only two steps before Gaul stood up, wavered only a moment, then recovered the spear from the dead wolf Trolloc.
“I snuck to the next Island,” Gaul said, pointing. “I found two other Trollocs at the base of the bridge, bearing only a small light—watching as you had guessed, Perrin Aybara. I killed them silently, then searched the Island. There were no others close by, but I dared not stray too far before returning.”
Perrin clasped Gaul on the shoulder, smiling. To the side, the Maidens each raised a spear above their heads. Gaul actually blushed; Perrin couldn’t recall having seen him do that before.
They searched the filthy carcasses, but found nothing of use, so they shoved them over the side of the bridge. Perrin wished they had some way of concealing the blood too. Perhaps they could wash it off? If someone came searching for these four, it would be better for them to find no signs. Trollocs that had been slaughtered meant enemies; Trollocs that had vanished could have wandered off, or been taken by Machin Shin.
He’d deal with that once they had regrouped. He led the Aiel back along the bridge, then down a ramp to where they’d left the rest of the troops, clustered with shielded lamps. Arganda looked relieved when Perrin emerged from the darkness.
“My Lord Goldeneyes?” the Ghealdanin whispered, raising his lantern. “What happened?”
“We killed the sentries,” Perrin said.
“Excellent,” Gallenne said. “That means a fight! They wouldn’t have left sentries unless there was someone for them to report to, presumably. I bet that somewhere nearby we will find a fist or two of Trollocs, at the very least.”
Perrin glanced at Sulin, and she nodded. She agreed.
“Then we’ll have to find them,” Perrin said. “For now, we keep going. Slowly, carefully, and with extra scouts on patrol. Pass word of what we found to the men, Gallenne. And warn them to be extra alert. We’re getting close now.”
CHAPTER 6
A Pinprick of Light
Perrin felt as if the darkness was watching him, measuring him. Stalking him. The unnatural stillness of this place reminded him of a forest gone silent—frozen perpetually in that moment of alert tension that came right before a predator struck.
They crossed the next bridge in near-total silence, passing orders as whispers. Even the pack animals seemed to sense it. Perrin and his officers and advisers reached the next Guiding, and here he pointed. His Aiel struck out in pairs to check for ambush. They bore shielded lanterns, only faint slivers of light separating them from this deepest dark.
“Light bless them,” Gallenne whispered. “And lead them back safely. I’ve faced death on dozens of battlefields, never blinking. But something about that darkness seems to steal the heart from even my bravest men.”
“Makes you wonder what kind of people would just walk out into it like that,” Arganda said. He and Gallenne often walked together in here—and at first, Perrin had thought it was their rivalry driving each to make sure the other didn’t get ahead. Now, he wasn’t so certain.
“I heard several of them whispering to each other earlier,” Gallenne said. “They were making bets on which of them wouldn’t return, and instead get lost in the dark. They seemed to treat it as a game.”
Arganda nodded, as if this were what he might expect.
“It was a strikingly tender moment,” Gallenne said.
“Tender? Betting on one another’s deaths?
”
“I’ve seen many a man laugh, instead of cry, on the morning before a battle,” Gallenne said. He looked out into the darkness. “They do it differently, Arganda, but they remind me of that. The way men joke to prepare themselves for the fight. They’re nervous. They don’t like this place either, but they do their duty. I’ve often heard about murderous Aiel, even fought beside them under Lord Aybara’s banner. But I don’t know that I’ve ever seen them be as . . . human as they were in that moment.”
Perrin nodded in agreement, though inwardly he was surprised. He had grown accustomed to bravado from the leader of the Winged Guard, not thoughtfulness.
The scouts returned, and brought him news of another group of Trolloc guards. The Aiel had disposed of them efficiently—though the news left Perrin increasingly worried. So far, they had not found the main Trolloc force, but each group of guards killed increased the inevitability. Someone would check on those dead Trollocs, and the Shadow had access to far more troops than he did. They could very easily end up trapped in here between two enemy forces, with no escape other than to risk leaving their prescribed and directed path.
They continued, passing the place where the Trollocs had been killed. He didn’t need to see the blood on the ground to recognize it. He smelled the fetid stench in the air.
At the next Guiding, Saerin confirmed their location and the bridge they were to take next. Only two more Islands to go before they reached the Caemlyn Waygate. It was what he’d expected—he’d been counting—but it was so hard to feel they were making progress in this place. Each bridge looked like its fellows, distinctive only in the pocks of broken stone.
The scouts went out again, swallowed by the void. A short time later, Gaul and Sulin trotted back out of the darkness. “Perrin Aybara,” Sulin said. “There is a gap in the next bridge, but it has been patched.”
“Patched?”
“With wood,” Gaul said. “Come see.”
They waited for the other scouts, then struck out. When Perrin reached the bridge in question, he inspected the wooden portion with a critical eye. It looked sturdy enough, but it had been created without any skill at all. Pieces of wood jutted from the sides unevenly, and many of the nails hadn’t been pounded in all the way. It was covered with symbols and words, painted in blood.
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