Jargen pushed his way through to Malenarin. “My Lord,” Jargen said, shooting a glance at Keemlin, “the boy should be below.”
“Not a boy any longer,” Malenarin said with pride. “A man. What is your report?”
“All is prepared.” Jargen glanced over the wall, eyeing the oncoming Trollocs as evenly as if he were inspecting a stable of horses. “They will not find this tree an easy one to fell.”
Malenarin nodded. Keemlin’s shoulder was tense. That sea of Trollocs seemed endless. Against this foe, the tower would eventually fall. The Trollocs would keep coming, wave after wave.
But every man atop that tower knew his duty. They’d kill Shadowspawn as long as they could, hoping to buy enough time for the messages to do some good.
Malenarin was a man of the Borderlands, same as his father, same as his son beside him. They knew their task. You held until you were relieved.
That’s all there was to it.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
DISTINCTIONS: Prologue to TOWERS OF MIDNIGHT
Copyright © 2010 by The Bandersnatch Group, Inc.
The phrases “The Wheel of Time®” and “The Dragon Reborn™,” and the snake-wheel symbol, are trademarks of Robert Jordan
All rights reserved
A Tor® eBook
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Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Cover art by Darrell K. Sweet
Interior illustrations by Ellisa Mitchell
eISBN 978-1-4299-5789-2
First Tor eBook Edition: September 2010
Prologue to Towers of Midnight Page 6