A Memory of Light (Wheel of Time, #14)

by Robert Jordan

“And what of the fourth battlefront?” Ituralde asked. “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.”

“I will go to the Malkieri,” Agelmar said. “Most of the Borderlanders fight there now.” “What of Kandor?” Elayne said. “If the Aes Sedai are to fight there,” Bryne said, “so will I. My place is with the White Tower.” He doesn’t want to fight in Andor, Elayne thought. He doesn’t want to fight alongside me. He wishes the break to be clean. “Who comes to Andor with me, then?” “I’ll go,” Bashere said. “And I to Shayol Ghul, then,” Ituralde said, nodding.

As Elayne inspected those towering trees, Gareth Bryne stepped up beside her. She turned, surprised he hadn’t left the pavilion already. The only ones still here now were the servants and Elayne’s guards. “Lord Bryne?” she asked. “I just wanted to say that I’m proud,” Bryne told her softly. “You did well in there.”

The two of them rounded the pavilion, crossing green grass and blossoming morning’s breath, walking toward the sound, which grew stronger and stronger. A song. A beautiful song, unlike any she had ever heard, that made her tremble with its striking sonority. It washed over her, enveloped her, vibrated through her. A joyful song, a song of awe and wonder, though she could not understand the words.

“An argument must have opposition if it is to prove itself, my son,” she said. “One who argues truly learns the depth of his commitment through adversity. Did you not learn that trees grow roots most strongly when winds blow through them?”

“I’m sorry,” Perrin said. “Elayne, Rand needs me.” “Rand needs us all.” “He needs me more,” Perrin said. “Min saw it, he said. Without me at the Last Battle, he’ll die. Besides, I have a few fights to finish.” “I’ll do it,” Faile said.

“You want to mask moving it,” Faile said, “using the supply runs to hide where you’re taking it.” “We’d rather just give it to Mat straight out,” Elayne said. “But he can be … difficult, sometimes. I had hoped he would be here at this meeting.” “He’s in Ebou Dar,” Perrin said. “Doing something with the Seanchan.” “He told you?” Elayne asked. “Not exactly,” Perrin said, looking uncomfortable. “We … have some kind of connection. I sometimes see where he is and what he’s doing.” “That man,” Elayne said, “is never where he needs to be.” “And yet,” Perrin said, “he always arrives there eventually.”

Anasai

“Tell me,” Bashere said. “Are you going to tell the men that you’re carrying the Lord Dragon’s child?” Children, Elayne corrected in her head. “You presume to know something that may or may not be true, Lord Bashere.” “I have a wife, and a daughter. I recognize the look in your eyes when you see the Lord Dragon. No woman with child touches her hand to her womb so reverently when looking on a man who is not the father.”

Elayne ground her teeth, then said, “Birgitte, make it known among the Guards. The children I carry were fathered by the Dragon Reborn.” Bashere’s smile deepened. Insufferable man! Birgitte was smiling as she went to spread the word. She was insufferable, too. The men of Andor seemed to stand taller, prouder, as they watched their capital burn.

Lan stopped, eyeing the aged general. “Take care, Lord Agelmar. It almost sounds as if you are calling me selfish.” “I am, Lan,” Agelmar said. “And you are.” Lan did not flinch. “You came to throw your life away for Malkier. That, in itself, is noble. However, with the Last Battle upon us, it’s also stupid. We need you. Men will die because of your stubbornness.” “I did not ask for them to follow me. Light! I did all that I could to stop them.” “Duty is heavier than a mountain, Dai Shan.”

He would never know them. He would leave them fatherless before they were even born. But, then, Janduin had left Rand fatherless—and he had turned out all right. Just a few rough edges, here and there. “What will you name them?” Rand asked. “If there is a boy, I’ve been thinking of naming him Rand.” Rand let himself go still as he felt her womb. Was that motion? A kick? “No,” Rand said softly. “Please do not name either child after me, Elayne. Let them live their own lives. My shadow will be long enough as it is.”

“This tea is not random.” “Yes, it is,” Rand said. “But, you see, I get only one side of the coin these days. Someone else is doing the bad. The Dark One injects horrors into the world, causing death, evil, madness. But the Pattern … the Pattern is balance. So it works, through me, to provide the other side. The harder the Dark One works, the more powerful the effect around me becomes.” “The growing grass,” Elayne said. “The splitting clouds. The food unspoiled…” “Yes.” Well, some other tricks helped on occasion, but he didn’t mention them.

“Maradon was a mistake,” Moiraine said tersely. “You cannot afford to expose yourself, Rand.” “I cannot afford not to, either. I won’t just sit back and let people die! Not when I can protect them.” “The Borderlanders do not need to be sheltered,” Lan said. “No,” Rand replied, “but I’ve never known one who would refuse a sword when one was offered in a time of need.” Lan met his eyes, then nodded. “Do what you can.”

The Blight, and the Shadowspawn it grew, were a disease. An infection. Egwene—afire with the One Power, a blazing beacon of death and judgment—was the cauterizing flame that would bring healing to the land.

“You all accept my authority, as granted by the crown of Andor?” Perrin asked. “Of course, Lord Goldeneyes,” Arganda called. “I thought that was established.” “I’m hereby making Tam al’Thor a lord,” Perrin called. “I am making him steward over the Two Rivers in the name of his son, the Dragon Reborn. He carries all of my authority, which is the Dragon’s own authority. If I do not survive this battle, Tam succeeds me.” The camp grew still, then the men nodded, several saluting Tam. Tam groaned so softly, Perrin doubted anyone else could hear. “Is it too late to turn you over to the Women’s Circle for a good talking-to?” Tam asked. “Maybe a sound swat on the behind and a week spent carrying water for Widow al’Thone?”

As he worked, Perrin turned to the men. “I hate to leave you, but I have these hooks in me, pulling me north. I have to go to Rand, and there’s just no arguing with it. I’ll try to come back. If I can’t … well, I want you all to know that I’m proud of you. All of you. You’re welcome in my home when this is over. We’ll open a cask or two of Master al’Vere’s best brandy. We’ll remember those who fell, and we’ll tell our children how we stood when the clouds turned black and the world started to die. We’ll tell them we stood shoulder to shoulder, and there was just no space for the Shadow to squeeze through.”

How must it feel, for a pair of warriors to wait out this, the Last Battle? Perhaps Rand should have tried to have the gai’shain released from their vows for a few weeks. Well, that would probably have turned every single Aiel against him. Light protect the wetlander who dared tamper with ji’e’toh.

“It’s not evil, Rand,” Perrin said. “I know something evil when I smell it. This isn’t evil, it’s just incredibly stupid.” Rand smiled. “And still you ask?” “The good options are gone, Rand. Better to do something desperate than to do nothing at all.”

“The Light willing, we will see one another again,” Rand said. He held out his hand to Perrin. “Watch out for Mat. I’m honestly not sure what he’s going to do, but I have a feeling it will be highly dangerous for all involved.” “Not like us,” Perrin said, clasping Rand’s forearm. “You and I, we’re much better at keeping to the safe paths.” Rand smiled. “May the Light shelter you, Perrin Aybara.” “And you, Rand al’Thor.” Perrin hesitated, and realized what was happening. They were saying goodbye. He took Rand in an embrace.

“A person can resist for a short time,” she said. “A short time only. The strongest will fail eventually. If you are a man facing women, they will beat you quickly.” “It shouldn’t be possible,” Perrin said, kneeling. “Nobody should be able to force a man to turn to the Shadow. When all else is taken from us, this choice should remain.”

Rand left the trail, carrying his long bundle, passing through rustling high grass in the clearing on his way to Tam’s tent. This would be a quick trip. He nodded to those soldiers who saluted as he passed on the path. They were shocked to see him, but not surprised that he walked the camp. Elayne had made her armies aware of his earlier visit. I lead these armies, she had said as they parted last time, but you are their heart. You gathered them, Rand. They fight for you. Please let them see you when you come. And so he did. He wished he could protect them better, but he would simply have to carry that burden. The secret, it turned out, had not been to harden himself to the point of breaking. It had not been to become numb. It had been to walk in pain, like the pain of the wounds at his side, and accept that pain as part of him.

Tam didn’t pay any heed to the stump. He took out a handkerchief and wrapped it around one of his hands, then tied it tight using his teeth. “I won’t be able to grip a thing with my off hand,” he said, swinging the sword again. “It will be a fair fight. Come on, son.” Tam’s voice carried authority—the authority of a father. It was the same tone he had once used to get Rand out of bed to go muck the milking shed. Rand couldn’t disobey that voice, not Tam’s. It was just built into him. He sighed, stepping forward. “I don’t need the sword to fight any longer. I have the One Power.” “That would be important,” Tam said, “if sparring right now had anything to do with fighting.”

“I am the Empress now,” Tuon said. “I do not wait upon others, and do not find it ‘good’ that someone has returned. Their return is expected, as they serve me.” “You know how to make a fellow feel loved. Well, I know how you feel about me.” “And how is that?” “You looked over your shoulder.” She shook her head. “I had forgotten that you are supremely good at saying that which has no meaning, Matrim.” “When you saw me,” Mat explained, “with a dagger in hand—as if to throw at you—you didn’t call for your guards. You didn’t fear I was here to kill you. You looked over your shoulder to see what I was aiming at. That’s the most loving gesture I think a man could receive from a woman. Unless you’d like to sit on my knee for a little while…”

“I won’t be your toy,” Mat said sternly. “I won’t have it, Tuon. If you intend it to be that way, I will leave. Mark me. Sometimes, I do play the fool. With Tylin, I did for sure. I won’t have that with you.”

“This war is everything or nothing. If I could round up each woman in the Borderlands and put a sword in her hands, I would. For now, I’ll settle for not doing something stupid—like forbidding some trained and passionate soldiers from fighting. If you, however, decide not to exercise that prudence, you are free to tell them what you think. I promise to give you a good burial once they let me take your head down off the pole.” “I … Yes, Lord Mandragoran,” Kaisel said.

“Thanks a bundle for this,” Mat muttered to Rand. “You’re such a bloody good friend.” “It’s good to see you too,” Rand said, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Here we go,” Mat said with a sigh. “You’ve pulled me into trouble again. You always do this.” “I do?” “Yes. In Rhuidean and the Waste, in the Stone of Tear … back in the Two Rivers. You do realize that I went south, instead of coming to your little party with Egwene in Merrilor, to escape?” “You think you could stay away from me?” Rand asked, smiling. “You really think it would let you?” “I could bloody try. No offense, Rand, but you’re going to go mad and all. I figured I’d give you one less friend nearby to kill. You know, save you some trouble. What did you do to your hand, by the way?” “What did you do to your eye?” “A little accident with a corkscrew and thirteen angry innkeepers. The hand?” “Lost it capturing one of the Forsaken.”

“I did not make that argument,” Rand said, “but let us do so. How do you claim the right to these lands?” “By being the only legitimate heir of Artur Hawkwing.” “And why should that matter?” “This is his empire. He is the only one to have unified it, he is the only leader to have ruled it in glory and greatness.” “And there you are wrong,” Rand said, voice growing soft. “You accept me as the Dragon Reborn?” “You must be,” Tuon said slowly, as if wary of a trap. “Then you accept me for who I am,” Rand said, voice growing loud, crisp. Like a battle horn. “I am Lews Therin Telamon, the Dragon. I ruled these lands, unified, during the Age of Legends. I was leader of all the armies of the Light, I wore the Ring of Tamyrlin. I stood first among the Servants, highest of the Aes Sedai, and I could summon the Nine Rods of Dominion.” Rand stepped forward. “I held the loyalty and fealty of all seventeen Generals of Dawn’s Gate. Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag, my authority supersedes your own!”

“I have not come here to destroy you. I come to you now to offer you peace, Empress. I have come without armies, I have come without force. I have come because I believe that you need me, as I need you.” Rand stepped forward and, remarkably, went down on one knee, bowing his head, his hand extended. “I extend my hand to you in alliance. The Last Battle is upon us. Join me, and fight.”

He followed, but stopped beside Rand. “Seems you have a bit of the Dark One’s luck yourself,” he muttered to Rand. “I can’t believe that worked.” “Honestly?” Rand said softly. “I can’t either. Thank you for the good word.” “Sure,” Mat said. “By the way, I saved Moiraine. Chew on that as you try to decide which of the two of us is winning.” Mat followed Tuon, and behind him rose the laughter of the Dragon Reborn.

Rand let the light come. All across the battlefield near the river, people glanced toward the sky as sunlight fell on them, the dark clouds pulling back. No more hiding, Rand thought, removing his Mask of Mirrors and raising his hand in a fist above his head. He wove Air, Fire and Water, creating a column of light extending from himself high into the sky. Soldiers across the battlefield cheered. He would not bring down the traps the Dark One had waiting for him. He moved through a gateway back to Merrilor. He never stayed long at a battlefront, but he always revealed himself before he left. He let the clouds break above, proving he had been there, then withdrew.

“Moiraine calls me a fool for these attacks. She says that even a small risk to me is not worth what I accomplish.” “Moiraine is probably right,” Min said. “She often is. But I prefer you as the person who would do this. That is the person who can defeat the Dark One: the man who cannot sit and plan while others die.” Rand put his arm around her waist. Light, what would he have done without her? I’d have fallen, he thought. During the dark months … I’d have fallen for certain.

“Trying to decide if I’m up to the task?” Rand said to Cadsuane, keeping emotions—in this case, annoyance—from his voice. “I never wondered,” Cadsuane said. “Even before I found you were reborn, I never wondered if I would be able to make you into the man you needed to be. Wondering, in that manner at least, is for fools. Are you a fool, Rand al’Thor?” “An impossible question,” Min replied. “If he says that he is, then a fool he becomes. If he says that he is not, then he implies he does not seek further wisdom.” “Phaw. You’ve been reading too much, child.” Cadsuane seemed fond as she said it.

“You must not assume that you will die,” Cadsuane said. “Even if it is nearly inevitable, you must not take it as completely inevitable.”

“You still aren’t certain,” Cadsuane said, dissatisfied. “You’d risk yourself, you’d risk us all, stepping into a trap.” “I…” “They’re free.” Cadsuane turned to walk away. “Taim and his men have been cast out of the Black Tower.” “What?” Rand demanded, taking her by the arm. “Your men there freed themselves,” Cadsuane said. “Though, from what I’ve been told, they took a beating doing it. Few know it. Queen Elayne might not be able to use them in battle for some time. I don’t know the details.” “They freed themselves?” Rand said. “Yes.” They did it. Or Perrin did. Rand exulted, but a wave of guilt slammed against him. How many had been lost?

The men continued their toasts to the fallen. It had become a tradition every evening, and had spread among all of the Borderlander camps. Lan found it encouraging that the men here were starting to treat Antail and Narishma as fellows. The Asha’man were aloof, but Deepe’s death had forged a link between the Asha’man and the ordinary soldiers. Now they’d all paid the butcher’s bill. The men had seen Antail grieving, and had invited him to make a toast.

“We’ll make a home,” Lan said. “The Shadow defeated, Nynaeve and I will reclaim Malkier. We’ll make the fields bloom again, cleanse the lakes. Green pastures. No more Trollocs to fight. Children to ride on your back, old friend. You can spend your days in peace, eating apples and having your pick of mares.”

Rand al’Thor had begun to crack that shell, and then Nynaeve’s love had ripped it apart completely. I wonder if Rand ever knew, Lan thought, taking out the currycomb and working on Mandarb’s coat. Lan knew what it was like to be chosen, from childhood, to die. He knew what it was like to be pointed toward the Blight and told he would sacrifice his life there.

“I am proud of you, girl,” Amys said. Amys, tough-as-rocks Amys, looked teary-eyed. They rose, and Egwene embraced them one at a time. “Light shelter you, Amys, Melaine, Bair,” Egwene said. “Give my love to the others.” “It will be done, Egwene al’Vere,” Bair said. “May you find water and shade, now and always.”

“Rand, I’m busy. We are busy. There isn’t time for things like this. Your armies are impatient.” “Their time will soon come,” Rand said, growing harder. “Before this is through, they will wonder why they were so eager, and will look with longing at these restful days waiting.” He still held the ribbon in his hand, forming a fist. “I just … I didn’t want to go to my fight with our last meeting having been an argument, even if it was an important one.” “Oh, Rand,” Egwene said. She stepped forward, taking the ribbon. She embraced him. Light, but he’d been difficult to deal with lately—but she’d thought the same thing about her parents on occasion. “I support you. It doesn’t mean I’m going to do as you say with the seals, but I do support you.” Egwene released Rand. She would not be teary-eyed. Even if it did seem like a last parting for them.

“You are Galad’s brother?” Gawyn asked. “Half-brother,” Rand said. “Not that it would probably mean much to a Whitecloak. We had the same mother. His father, like yours, was Taringail, but mine was an Aiel.” “I think Galad would surprise you,” Gawyn said softly.

“I’ve had these with me each moment since you gave them to me!” Egwene said. “Then it happened before,” Rand whispered. “I didn’t look them over carefully after I fetched them. He knew, somehow, where I’d put them.” Taking the other one from her, he shook his head. “It’s not real either.” He took the third. “Nor this one.” He looked at her. “He has them, Egwene. He’s stolen them back, somehow. The Dark One holds the keys to his own prison.”

“You aren’t burning my hat,” Mat said. “Try, and we’ll bloody well see if you can fly from four stories up. Do you understand me?”

“Burn me,” Mat said, lowering his arms to his side as the lacquering finished. “I’m a bloody nobleman.” He sighed, plucking his hat from the hands of a startled servant—who was walking past with his old clothing—and set it on his head. “Honored One,” Nata said. “Please forgive my forwardness, but it is my place to advise on fashion, if you please. That hat looks … particularly out of place with that uniform.” “Who cares?” Mat said, marching out of the room. He almost had to go out the door sideways! “If I’m going to look ridiculous, I might as well do it with style. Someone point me toward where our flaming generals are meeting. I need to figure out how many troops we have.”

Raemassa

Egwene felt sick. How many were dying, dead? Gawyn caught her arm as he felt her stir, then shook his head, mouthing a few words. Wait until night. They’re dying! she mouthed. You can’t help.

Rodrivar

There was one other group in Rand’s force, and it was the most baffling to Aviendha. Dragonsworn in large numbers. They camped together, and flew a flag that placed the image of the dragon over the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai. The group was made up of common men, soldiers, lords, ladies and some Aes Sedai and Warders. They came from all nations, including the Aiel, and shared only one common bond: They had put aside all loyalties, broken all bonds, to fight in the Last Battle. Aviendha had heard discomforting rumors that many of the Aiel among them were gai’shain who had put aside the white, claiming they would take it up again when the Last Battle was won.

“Artham.

Aviendha, that you should find this and identify it when you did, that Elayne should give it to me … The Pattern weaves us all where we need to be.” Rand smiled, then added, “Elayne sounded sad when she gave me the dagger. I think a part of her wanted to keep it because it would let her curse by the Dark One’s name without drawing his attention.” “Is this really a time for levity?” Aviendha asked, scowling at him. “If ever there was a need for laughter, this is it,” Rand said, though the laughter seemed to have left his voice.