Towers of Midnight

by Robert Jordan; Brandon Sanderson

  He had considered forbidding Faile to come today, but he'd known how that would turn out. Instead, he placed her at the back, surrounded by Wise Ones and Cha Faile, accompanied by Aes Sedai.

  Perrin gripped his reins tighter, listening to the marching feet. Few of the refugees had armor. Arganda had called them light infantry. Perrin had another term for them: "innocents with blades." Why did they follow him? Couldn't they see that they would fall first?

  They trusted him. Light burn them, they all trusted him! He rested his hand on his hammer, smelling the damp air mixed with fear and excitement. The thunder of hooves and footsteps, reminding him of the dark sky. Thunder with no lightning. Lightning with no thunder.

  The battlefield was ahead, a broad green grassland lined on the far end by troops in white. That Whitecloak army wore silver breastplates shined to perfection, their tabards and cloaks a pure white. This grassy

  plain was a good place to have a battle. It would also be a good place to plant crops.

  To understand a thing, you must understand its parts and its purpose.

  What had been the purpose of his war axe? To kill. That was why it had been made. That was all it had been good for.

  But the hammer was different.

  Perrin pulled Stepper up sharply. Beside him, the Asha'man stopped, and the entire column of troops started to pull to a halt. Groups bunched up as they slowed; yelled orders replaced the sounds of marching.

  The air was still, the sky overhead dreary. He couldn't smell the grass or the distant trees for the dust in the air and the men sweating in their armor. Horses snorted, a number of them nibbling at the grass. Others shuffled, catching the tension of their riders.

  "My Lord?" Grady asked. "What is it?"

  The Whitecloak army was already in position with a V formation of riders at the front. They waited, lances upright, ready to be lowered to spill blood.

  "The axe only kills," Perrin said. "But the hammer can either create or kill. That is the difference."

  It made sense to him, suddenly. That was why he'd needed to throw the axe away. He could choose not to kill. He would not be pushed into this.

  He turned to Gaul, who stood with several Maidens a short distance away. "I want the Aes Sedai and Wise Ones up here now." Perrin hesitated. "Order the Aes Sedai, but ask the Wise Ones. Order the Two Rivers men up as well."

  Gaul nodded and ran to do as asked. Perrin turned back to the White-cloaks. For all their faults, the Whitecloaks considered themselves honorable. They wouldn't attack until Perrin was in position.

  The cluster of Wise Ones and Aes Sedai joined him at the front. Faile, he noticed, rode with them. Well, he had told her to stay with them. He held out a hand to her, inviting her next to him. The Two Rivers men came up on the flank of his force.

  "Gaul said you were very polite," Edarra noted to Perrin. "That means you want something from us that we will not want to do."

  Perrin smiled. "I want you to help me prevent this battle."

  You do not wish to dance the spears?" Edarra asked. "I have heard some of what these men in white have done in the wetlands. I think they wearr white to hide what is dark inside of them."

  "They're confused," Perrin said. "Well, they're more than confused. They're Light-cursed frustrating. But we shouldn't be fighting them, not

  with the Last Battle coming. If we squabble among ourselves, we will lose to the Dark One."

  Edarra laughed. "I would like to see someone tell that to the Shaido, Perrin Aybara. Or, rather, I would like to have seen someone suggest that to you when they still held your wife!"

  "Well, the Shaido needed killing," he said. "But I don't know if these Whitecloaks do. Maybe they only need a good fright. I want you and the Aes Sedai to blast the ground in front of their army."

  "You ask something you should not, Aybara," Seonid said sternly. "We will not take part in your battle. The diminutive Green met his eyes, voice crisp and curt.

  "You're not taking part in battle," Perrin said. "You're preventing one."

  Seonid frowned. "I'm afraid it would be the same, in this case. If we attack the earth, it would be using the One Power as a weapon. We could hurt those men. I'm sorry."

  Perrin ground his teeth, but did not force them. The Wise Ones and Asha'man would probably be enough. He turned to the Two Rivers men. "Tarn, tell the men to nock arrows and be ready to launch a volley."

  Tarn nodded, sending a runner with the order. The Two Rivers men lined up. This was beyond the range of most bows, but a good pull on a Two Rivers longbow could manage it.

  Perrin nodded to the Wise Ones, then motioned toward the Asha'man. Before anything else could be said, the ground in front of the Whitecloaks erupted. A rumble shook the meadow, dirt exploding into the air. Grady and Neald moved their horses forward.

  The Whitecloaks' horses reared and men shouted in terror. A small group of men at the very front didn't seem disturbed by the explosions, and they kept their horses under control. Those would be the leaders. Indeed, Perrin's eyes could make out the Lord Captain Commander himself sitting there.

  Dirt sprayed into the air again, falling to pelt the trench beneath. The Wise Ones wore that look of concentration that came with channeling.

  "Can one of you enhance my voice?" Perrin asked.

  "I can do it," Grady said. "I saw the M'Hael do it once."

  "Good," Perrin said, turning to Tarn. "Once the channelers stop, tell the men to give me a couple of long volleys. Try and hit that trench."

  A few moments later, the explosions ended. The Two Rivers men drew a volley and loosed it. Thick shafts rose in an arc, and soon the rift bristled with arrows. Perrin watched the Whitecloak army. They had broken ranks, standing in disorder.

  A clank of armor matched by hoofbeats announced Arganda's arrival.

  The First Captain of Ghealdan wore his plumed helm, his eyes hard beneath

  it. "What was the point of that, if I may ask, Lord Aybara?" He smelled

  f;ie "You just gave away our advantage! An ambush could have killed thousands and broken their initial charge."

  "Yes " Perrin said. Faile still rode at his other side. "And they know it. Look at their lines, Arganda. They're worried. The Whitecloaks are realizing what they'd have to go through to charge us. If I was willing to give them this as a warning burst, what was I holding back?"

  "But that was the extent of what we can do," Faile said.

  "They don't know that." Perrin grinned. "It would be stupid of us to commit everything we have in a warning blast like that."

  Arganda held his tongue, though he obviously was thinking that very thing. He was a soldier to the bone. An axe. There was nothing wrong with that, but Perrin had to be the hammer. When he pointed, men like Arganda killed.

  "Grady," Perrin said. "My voice, please? I wouldn't mind if our army could hear what I say, too."

  "I can manage that," Grady said.

  Perrin took a deep breath, then spoke. "I am Perrin Aybara!" his voice boomed across the plain. "I am friend to the Dragon Reborn, and I serve here at his command. I am marching to the Last Battle. Lord Captain Commander, you demanded I meet with you on your terms before, and I came. I ask you to return the honor here, and meet as I request. If you are determined to kill me before I ride against the Shadow, at least do me the service of giving me one last chance to prevent spilling blood this day!"

  He nodded to Grady, and the man released his weave. "Do we have a pavilion we could set up for parley?"

  "Back at the camp," Faile said.

  "I can try a gateway," Neald said, knuckling his mustache—or, at least, the thin bit of fur on his face that he called a mustache, waxed to points.

  "Try it."

  He concentrated. Nothing happened. The young man blushed furiously. "Doesn't work. Not Traveling or Skimming."

  I see," Perrin said. "Well, let's send a rider back. We should be able to

  have the tent set up here in minutes. I don't know if they'll agree to meet,
<
br />   but I want to get ready, in case they do. Bring Berelain and Alliandre back

  as well, and perhaps someone with drinks and the chairs and table from

  my tent."

  The proper orders were given, and a Two Rivers man—Robb Solter-rode off, Maidens trailing after him. The Whitecloaks seemed to be con-sidering his proposition. Good.

  Arganda and most of the others spread out to pass the word about what was happening, though they couldn't possibly have missed Perrin's announcement. Everyone seemed to be doing what they should, so Perrin sat back in his saddle to wait.

  Faile sidled her horse up to him. She smelled intrigued.

  "What?" Perrin asked.

  "Something's changed about you. I'm trying to figure out what."

  "I'm stalling," Perrin said. "I haven't made any decisions yet. But I don't want to kill these men. Not yet. Not unless I have to."

  "They're not going to give any ground, husband," Faile said. "They've already judged you."

  "We'll see," he said. He looked up at the sky, thinking of the strange scent and the fact that the Asha'man gateways weren't working. Slayer was prowling this area in the wolf dream and there was that wall of glass. Something felt very wrong on the wind, and his senses itched at him. Be wary. Be prepared.

  The hammer could kill or create. He didn't know which situation this was yet. He didn't intend to strike until he did.

  Galad sat on the grassy plain that should have been a field of battle, looking at the trench torn in the ground, bristling with hundreds of arrows.

  He was prepared for Aes Sedai. An Aes Sedai could not hurt someone unless she or her Warder was in danger, and Galad had given very specific orders to his people not to engage—or even go near—Aes Sedai. If the Children saw Aes Sedai, they were to stop and nod their heads, turning their weapons away. If his men showed plainly that they would not harm Aes Sedai, then the sisters should be useless in battle.

  Many of the Children did not believe this. They called the stories of the Three Oaths deliberate fabrications. They hadn't lived in the White Tower. Galad didn't like most Aes Sedai, and he certainly didn't trust them, but he knew that the oaths did hold.

  Galad s men moved back into line, muttering. He raised his looking glass, inspecting Aybara's front line. Men in black coats. Several Aiel women, including one of those who had come with Aybara to their first meetings. A channeler, no doubt. He imagined the ground exploding beneath his charging forces, knocking the cavalry into the air, others falling into the trench while the later lines stalled in confusion, prey to those im-pressive longbows.

  Bornhald rode up to Galad, his face angry. "We aren't really going to

  parley, are we?"

  Galad lowered his looking glass. "Yes. I think we are."

  "But we already met with him!" Bornhald said. "You said you wanted to see those eyes, as proof he was Shadowspawn, and you saw them. What more do you need?"

  Byar said, nudging his mount closer. He often acted as a guard to Galad these days. "He can't be trusted, my Lord Captain Commander."

  Galad nodded at the trench. "He could have destroyed us with that

  attack."

  "I agree with Byar," Bornhald said. "He wants to draw you out, then

  kill you to demoralize us."

  Galad nodded slowly. "That's possible." He turned to Lord Captain Harnesh, who rode nearby. "If I die, I want you to take command and charge. Attack without mercy; I repeal my order to avoid Aes Sedai. Kill anyone who seems to be channeling. Make it a priority. It's possible that we do not understand what is happening here."

  "But you're still going?" Bornhald asked.

  "Yes," Galad said. He had let Bornhald and Byar goad him into battle, but now he wondered if he'd been too hasty. He had seen those eyes, and had heard the testimonies of both his Children and some of those who had ridden with Aybara. It had seemed clear that attacking was the thing to do.

  But Aybara was right. He had come to meet with Galad when asked. Perhaps there was a way to prevent bloodshed. Galad did not believe it, but if there was even a chance, then delaying was the right thing. It was as simple as that.

  Bornhald did not seem pleased. His anger at the man who had killed his father was understandable, but it could not be allowed to guide the Children. "You may come with me," Galad said, nudging his horse forward. "That goes for you as well, Child Byar. The Lords Captain should remain behind, scattered through the men, lest Aybara leave us without leaders."

  Harnesh saluted. Bornhald reluctantly fell into place beside Galad, as

  did Byar, whose eyes burned with a wild zeal that matched Bornhald s anger.

  Both had experienced defeat and indignity at the hands of this Perrin

  Aybara. Galad also took fifty Children as guards, riding in formation behind him.

  A pavilion was set up by the time they arrived. Flat topped and simple, it had four poles stretching the brownish gray canvas. There was a small square table under it, accompanied by two chairs.

  Aybara sat on one side of the table. He stood up as Galad approached; today, the large man wore a green coat and brown trousers—both well crafted but plain—and had that hammer slung at his waist. The clothes had an earthy sensibility to them. No, this was not a man of palaces but a man of fields and forests. A woodsman who had risen to be a lord.

  A pair of Two Rivers men stood at the back of the pavilion, holding powerful Two Rivers longbows. They were said to be independent farmers and herdsmen of old, sturdy stock. And they had chosen this Perrin Aybara to lead them.

  Galad walked toward the pavilion. Byar and Bornhald joined him though the other fifty remained mounted outside.

  Unlike their last meeting, there were Aes Sedai here, three whom he could spot. A short Cairhienin woman; a slim, pleasant-looking woman in a simple dress; a stocky woman whose numerous braids meant she was likely from Tarabon. They stood with the group of Aiel women in shawls, guarded by a handful of Maidens of the Spear. Well, those Aiel did give credence to the claim that Aybara had been sent by the Dragon Reborn.

  Galad rested his hand casually on the pommel of his sword, looking over the pavilion's other occupants.

  And then he froze. A strikingly beautiful woman stood behind Ayba-ra's chair. No, not beautiful, gorgeous. Lustrous black hair streamed down past her neck; it seemed to shine. She wore a red gown, thin enough to accentuate her form and deeply cut enough to expose swelling bosom.

  And those eyes. So dark, with long beautiful lashes. He seemed . .. pulled toward them. Why hadn't this woman come last time?

  "You appear surprised," Aybara said as he sat back down. He had a gruff voice. "The Lady First is here at the Lord Dragon's command, as 1 am. Didn't you notice the flag of Mayene above my forces?"

  "I. . ." Galad snapped his mouth closed, executing a bow to the woman. Berelain sur Paendrag Paeron? She was said to be a marvelous beauty, but those tales did her little justice. Galad tore his eyes from her and forced himself to take the seat opposite Aybara. He had to concentrate on his foe.

  Those golden eyes were as unsettling as he remembered. So strange to look into. Yes, this man couldn't be anything other than Shadowspawn.

  Why would so many follow such a creature? Why would she follow such

  a creature?

  "Thank you for coming," Aybara said. "Our last meeting was hasty.

  We'll do it proper, this time. You should be made aware that this woman

  beside me is Alliandre Maritha Kigarin, Queen of Ghealdan, Blessed of

  the Light, Defender of Garen's Wall." So, that stately, dark-haired woman

  was the current Queen of Ghealdan. Of course, with the unrest here lately,

  there were probably a half-dozen people trying to claim the throne. She

  was pretty, but completely overshadowed by Berelain.

  Perrin nodded toward a third woman. "This is Faile ni Bashere t'Avbara, my wife and cousin to the Queen of Saldaea." Aybara's wife regarded Galad with suspicion. Yes, she was
obviously Saldaean, by that nose. Bornhald and Byar hadn't known of her royal connections.

  Two monarchs in the tent, and both behind Aybara. Galad rose from his seat and gave a bow to Alliandre to match the one he'd given Berelain. "Your Majesty."

  "You're very polite, Lord Captain Commander," Berelain said. "And those were elegant bows. Tell me, where did you receive such training?"

  Her voice was like music. "In the court of Andor, my Lady. I am Galad Damodred, stepson of the departed Queen Morgase and half-brother of Elayne Trakand, the rightful Queen."

  "Ah," Perrin said. "About time I put a name to you. Wish you'd said that last time."

  Berelain stared into his eyes, and she smiled, looking as if she wanted to step forward. She caught herself, however. "Galad Damodred. Yes, I thought I recognized something in your face. How is your sister?"

  "I hope she is well," Galad said. "I have not seen her in some time."

  "Elayne's fine," Perrin said gruffly. "Last I heard—which was only a few days back—she'd secured her claim to the throne. I wouldn't be surprised if she's looking to marry Rand by now. If she can pull him away from whatever realm he's conquering."

  Behind Galad, Byar hissed softly. Had Aybara intended insult by indicating a relationship between Elayne and the Dragon Reborn? Unfortunately, Galad knew his sister all too well. She was impulsive, and she had shown an unseemly fascination with young al'Thor.

  My sister may do as she wishes," Galad said, surprised at how easily he contained his annoyance at both her and the Dragon Reborn. "We are here to discuss you, Perrin Aybara, and your army."

  Aybara leaned forward, laying two hands on the table. "We both know this isn't about my army."

  "What is it about, then?" Galad asked.

  Aybara met his gaze with those unnatural eyes of his. "It's about a pair of Children of the Light I killed two years back. Now every time I turn around, it seems that there is a group of you snapping at my heels."