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

by Robert Jordan

“Rand,” Nynaeve said. “You are taking Callandor when you attack him? Its weakness … so long as you are channeling into that … thing, anyone can seize control of you. They can use you, and can draw the One Power through Callandor into you until it burns you out—leaving you powerless, and leaving them with the strength to level mountains, destroy cities.” “I will take it,” Rand said. “But it’s a trap!” Nynaeve said. “Yes,” Rand said, sounding tired. “A trap I must stride into and allow to spring shut upon me.” He laughed, suddenly, throwing his head back. “As always! Why should I be surprised? Spread the word, Nynaeve. Tell Ituralde, Rhuarc, King Darlin. Tomorrow, we invade Shayol Ghul and claim it as our own! If we must put our head into the lion’s mouth, let us make certain that he chokes upon our flesh!”

“A man who thinks all day about the catch he missed because of stormy weather ends up wasting time when the sky is clear.”

“Is it true, then?” Lyrelle asked. “Ordinary men can be compelled with the bond to obey, but not these Asha’man?” Pevara smiled, seeming wistful. “Ah, what would that be like? No, the bond cannot force Asha’man. You will have to use more inventive means.” That was not good. “How obedient are they?” Aledrin asked from the other side. “It depends on the man, I suspect,” Pevara said. “If they cannot be forced,” Lyrelle said, “will they obey their Aes Sedai in battle?” “Probably,” Pevara said, though there was something ambiguous about the way she said it. “I must tell you something, all of you. The mission I was sent on, and the one you also pursue, is a fool’s errand.”

“This is a trick,” Lyrelle said to Androl. “And a childish one.” “I thought it clever myself,” Androl returned, voice cool. “Worthy of an Aes Sedai, one might say. You were promised that any member of the Black Tower, save full Asha’man, would respond to your request. They will. Any of them to whom you can make the request.” “Undoubtedly, you chose for me the weakest among your numbers.” “Actually,” Androl said, “we took those who volunteered. They are good men, every one of them. They are the ones who wanted to be Warders.” “The Dragon Reborn will hear of this.” “From what I’ve heard,” Androl said, “he’s heading to Shayol Ghul any time now. Are you going to join him there just to make your complaint?” Lyrelle drew her lips into a line. “Here’s the thing, Aes Sedai,” Androl said. “The Dragon Reborn sent a message to us, just earlier today. He instructed us to learn one last lesson: that we’re not to think of ourselves as weapons, but as men. Well, men have a choice in their fate, and weapons do not. Here are your men, Aes Sedai. Respect them.”

Pevara felt something important happening here. They couldn’t have leaned upon him forever anyway, she thought. The Dragon Reborn will die at the Last Battle. By intention or not, he had given them the chance to become their own men. “I will take his last order to heart, however,” Androl said. “I will not be merely a weapon. The taint is cleansed. We fight not to die, but to live. We have a reason to live. Spread the word among the other men, and let us take oaths to uphold Logain as our leader. And then, to the Last Battle. Not as minions of the Dragon Reborn, not as pawns of the Amyrlin Seat, but as the Black Tower. Our own men.” “Our own men,” the other three whispered, nodding.

“Just as the people here awaited him with prophecy, just as they showered him with glory, the people of my land awaited me. I have fulfilled their prophecies. He is false, and I am true. Tell him I will finally have satisfaction. He is to come to me, so that we may face one another. If he does not, I will slaughter and destroy. I will seize his people. I will enslave his children, I will take his women for my own. One by one, I will break, destroy, or dominate everything he has loved. The only way for him to avoid this is for him to come and face me. “Tell him this, little Aes Sedai. Tell him that an old friend awaits. I am Bao, the Wyld. He Who Is Owned Only by the Land. The dragonslayer. He knew me once by a name I have scorned, the name Barid Bel.” Barid Bel? Egwene thought, memories from her lessons in the White Tower returning to her. Barid Bel Medar … Demandred.

Aviendha did not carry a spear; that was not her place. Instead, she was a spear. She was joined by two men in black coats, five Wise Ones, the woman Alivia and ten of Rand’s sworn Aes Sedai with Warders. None of them save Alivia had responded well to having Aviendha placed above them. The Asha’man did not like having to answer to any woman, the Wise Ones didn’t like being ordered by Rand at all, and the Aes Sedai still thought of Aiel channelers as inferior. They all obeyed the order anyway.

Aviendha raised her hand to him, and he raised his in return. That would be their only farewell if he failed in his task or she died during hers. With a last look, she turned away from him and toward her duty.

“Someone will need to guard the entry into the cave, my wife,” Thom said. “That ledge up there right beside the opening has an excellent view of the battlefield. I can watch the battle below, maybe compose a good ballad or two.” Rand smiled at the spark of humor in Thom’s eyes. They stood at the edge of time itself, and still Thom Merrilin found a smile.

“Rand…” Nynaeve said, taking his arm. “Perhaps you should rest.” He looked down, following her eyes to his side. His wound, the old wound, had broken open again. He felt blood inside his boot. It had run down his side, down his leg, and when he moved his foot, he left a bloody footprint behind. Blood on the rocks … Nynaeve raised a hand to her mouth. “It has to happen, Nynaeve,” Rand said. “You cannot stop it. The prophecy does not say anything about me living through this. I’ve always found that odd, haven’t you? Why would it speak of the blood, but not what comes after?”

IT IS TIME. LET THE TASK BE UNDERTAKEN. The voice spoke with the inevitability of an earthquake, the words vibrating through him. More than sound in the air, far more, the words spoke as if from one soul to another. Moiraine gasped, eyes opening wide. Rand was not surprised. He had heard this voice once before, and he realized that he had been expecting it. Hoping for it, at least. “Thank you,” Rand whispered, then stepped forward into the Dark One’s realm, leaving footprints of blood behind.

shaiqen

“Blood and ashes,” Matrim said. “More bowing? Have you folks nothing better to do? I could think of a few dozen things, if you can’t.” To the side, she saw Galgan smile. He thought he knew what she was going to do. He was wrong. “I name you Knotai, for you are a bringer of destruction to the Empire’s enemies. Let your new name only be spoken from now into eternity, Knotai. I proclaim that Knotai, Prince of the Ravens, is to be given the rank of Rodholder in our armies. Let it be published as my will.”

“You gave your word,” Knotai said softly. “I signed a treaty,” she said. “Any treaty can be broken, particularly by the Empress.” “Some empresses might be able to do that,” Knotai said. “But not you. Right? Light, Tuon. You gave him your word.”

He was still going to lose. He faced a numberless host of foes, Dreadlords by the dozen and even some of the Forsaken. He’d brought his force into this dead-end valley, seizing the jewel of the Dark One’s lands—his very footstool, the black mountain. And now the sun itself had gone out, though the Aes Sedai said that would pass. Ituralde puffed on his pipe as he rode his horse along the ridge that edged the valley to the north. Yes, he was going to lose. But with these resources, he’d do it with style.

Awlsten,

“You could step aside,” Rand said, raising Callandor, the glow of its light shifting off Moridin’s black steel sword. “If my victory is not assured, neither is your fall. Let me pass. For once, make the choice you know you should.” Moridin laughed. “Now? Now you beg me to return to the Light? I have been promised oblivion. Finally, nothing, a destruction of my entire being. An end. You will not steal that from me, Lews Therin! By my grave, you will not!”

“Those two have been Turned,” she said, folding her arms, nodding to the two channelers. “Many are born to their life these days, but those two have the filed teeth. They were taken and Turned.” Gaul muttered something. It sounded like an oath, but it also sounded reverent. It was in the Old Tongue, and Perrin didn’t catch its meaning. After that, however, Gaul raised a spear. He smelled regretful. “You spat in his eye, and so he uses you, my brothers. Horrible…” Turned, Perrin thought. Like those men at the Black Tower. He frowned, walking up and taking the head of one of the men in his hands. Could he will the man back to the Light? If he could be forced to be evil, could he be restored? Perrin hit something vast as he pushed against the minds of these men. His will bounced free, like a twig used to try beating down an iron gate. Perrin stumbled back. He looked at Gaul, and shook his head. “I can do nothing for them.” “I will do it,” Gaul said. “They are brothers.”

“Nynaeve!” Perrin yelled. “Perrin?” she whispered, looking about. “Where are you?” “I’m going to do something, Nynaeve,” he said. “I will make it impossible to create gateways into this place. If you want to Travel to or from this area, you’ll need to create your gateway out in front of the cavern. All right?” She nodded, still looking about for him.

“I have decided that I will speak to you,” Fortuona continued, ignoring Egwene’s remark. “I think that, for the time, it would be better if I see you not as marath’damane, but as a queen among the people of this land.” “No,” Egwene said. “You will see me for what I am, woman. I demand it.” Fortuona pursed her lips. “Very well,” she finally said. “I have spoken to damane before; training them has been a hobby of mine. To see you as such does not violate protocol, as the Empress may speak with her pet hounds.” “Then I will speak with you directly as well,” Egwene said, keeping her face impassive. “For the Amyrlin judges many trials. She must be able to speak to murderers and rapists in order to pass sentence upon them. I think you would be at home in their company, though I suspect they would find you nauseating.” “I can see that this will be an uneasy alliance.”

“This is why I insist that you see me as I am, for I represent the ultimate proof that your society and empire are built upon falsehoods. Here I stand, a woman you insist should be collared for the common good. And yet I display none of the wild or dangerous tendencies that you claim I should have. So long as I am free from your collars, I prove to every man and woman who draws breath that you are a liar.”

“Why did I not know of this?” Fortuona asked loudly, turning. “Why did you not tell me?” Egwene glanced at the collected Seanchan nobility. Fortuona seemed to be addressing one man in particular, a man in rich black and golden clothing, trimmed with white lace. He had an eyepatch over one eye, black to match, and the fingernails on both hands were lacquered to a dark— “Mat?” Egwene sputtered. He gave a kind of half-wave, looking embarrassed.

“What you do is an abomination!” Egwene said, feeling exasperated. “Not even the Black Ajah deserves that.” “Resources should not be discarded so idly.” “Is that so?” Egwene said. “Do you realize that every one of your sul’dam, your precious trainers, is herself a marath’damane?” Fortuona spun on her. “Do not spread such lies.” “Oh? Shall we test it, Fortuona? You said you trained them yourself. You are a sul’dam, I presume? Put the a’dam on your neck. I dare you. If I am wrong, it will do nothing to you. If I am right, you will be subject to its power, and will prove to be marath’damane.”

Mat lowered both hands, but took his sweet time at it, as if completely unconcerned. “The people of this world need you two, and they need you levelheaded, you hear me? This is bigger than any of us. When you fight each other, the Dark One wins, and that is that. So stop behaving like children.” “We will have many words about this tonight, Knotai,” Fortuona said. “I love words,” Mat said. “There are some deliciously pretty words out there. ‘Smile.’ That’s always sounded like a pretty word to me. Don’t you think? Or, perhaps, the words ‘I promise not to kill Egwene right now for trying to touch me, the Empress, may I live forever, because we really bloody need her for the next couple of weeks or so.’” He eyed Fortuona pointedly.

“You’ll still fight alongside the Seanchan, despite what they’ve done?” “So long as they keep the Sharan channelers occupied, yes.” Egwene looked toward the horizon—toward Rand, and the powerful struggle he must be embroiled in. “Our options are limited, Gawyn, and our allies dwindling. For now, whoever is willing to kill Trollocs is a friend. That is that.”

“Light,” Elayne whispered. “It’s like they planned it.” “I think they did,” Tam said softly. “Not this again,” Bashere bellowed. He didn’t seem like himself at all, though she knew that Saldaeans could have tempers. Bashere almost seemed like a different person. His wife had stepped up to his side, arms folded, and both confronted Tam. “Have your say, Tam,” Elayne said. “I—” Bashere began, but Elayne held up a hand. “He knew, Your Majesty,” Tam said softly. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. He hasn’t been using the Aiel to scout.”

“I’ll do it,” Min said. She wasn’t a soldier. Well, it seemed half of his army hadn’t been soldiers until a few weeks back. “Go,” he said, then smiled. “I’ll count the day’s work toward what you owe me.” She blushed. Did she think he’d let a woman forget her oath? It didn’t matter to him whose company she kept. An oath was an oath.

“He doesn’t know what to make of me,” Mat said softly. “How very uncommon. I can’t think of anyone else who has reacted that way to you, Mat.”

“Who is this one, Knotai?” Fortuona asked, curious. “She thinks herself high.” “Oh, well,” Mat said idly, “she’s just the Dragon Reborn’s woman.” Catrona, who at the side of the room had bowed herself to the ground, made a strangled sound. She looked up at Min with bulging eyes. Light, Min thought. She probably thinks she’s offended me or something.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” Min said. “Except maybe Rand, and him to me.” Fortuona ignored her, standing. “This woman is my new Soe’feia. Doomseer, Truthspeaker! Holy woman, she who may not be touched. We have been blessed. Let it be known. The Crystal Throne has not had a true reader of the omens for over three centuries!” Min sat, stunned, until Mat pulled her to her feet. “Is that a good thing?” she whispered to him. “I’ll be bloody in the face if I know,” Mat said back. “But you remember what I said about getting away from her? Well, you can probably forget about that now.”

He started singing again, louder, and this time it was not the song of mourning. It was a song he had not sung before, a song of growing, but not one of the tree songs that were so familiar to him. He bellowed it loud and angry, laying about him with his axe. On all sides, grass turned green, cords and ribbons of life sprouted. The hafts of the Trolloc polearms began to grow leaves; many of the beasts snarled and dropped the weapons in shock. Loial fought on. This song was not a song of victory. It was a song of life. Loial did not intend to die here on this hillside. By the Light, he had a book to finish before he went!

Courtani

Mat turned to her. “You realize that if Rand were here, he’d probably ask you to stay.” Min glared at him. “It’s just the truth, Min. The bloody truth. I was there when Rand brought them to his side, and I can tell you, he was worried. The Seanchan and Aes Sedai don’t get along too well, if you hadn’t noticed.” “That’s about as obvious as your pride is, Mat.” “Ouch. Here I’m trying to help. I tell you, Min. How much relief do you think it would bring Rand if he knew that someone he trusted had Tuon’s ear, someone who could nudge her to play nicely with the Aes Sedai by giving the right ‘omens’ at the right time? Of course, you could be back at the camp hauling water and running messages. I’m sure that would be just as helpful as you would be keeping an eye on a foreign monarch and encouraging her to trust and respect the Dragon Reborn, building a bridge of friendship between her and the rest of the nations.” Min stood silently for a moment. “I hate you, bloody Mat Cauthon.” “That’s the spirit,” Mat said, raising a hand to greet Tuon.

“Let me die with honor,” Agelmar said. “I … I’ve destroyed us all. I’ve lost us this war, Lan.” “Not the war, just the battle,” Lan said. “Something is wrong with you. A sickness, a fatigue or something of the Shadow. I suspect we’ll find someone has been tampering with your mind.” “But—” “You are a soldier!” Lan bellowed. “Act like one!”

caba’drin!”

The battle opened to him, and he saw tactics, ten steps ahead of what was occurring. It was like reading the future, like what Min saw, only with flesh, blood, swords and battle drums. Mat grunted. “Huh. Gareth Bryne is a Darkfriend.” “He what?” Min sputtered. “This battle is one step away from being doomed,” Mat said, turning to Tuon. “I need absolute control of our armies right now. No more arguing with Galgan. Min, I need you to send to Egwene and warn her that Bryne is trying to lose this battle. Tuon, she’ll need to go in person. I doubt Egwene will listen to anyone else.”

“Bashere is with Elayne’s army,” Perrin said. “And Gareth Bryne is with Egwene. Agelmar is with the Borderlanders and Lan.” I do not know. “He is. Four battlefronts. Four great captains. That’s what she’s doing.” “Graendal?” Gaul asked. “Yes,” Perrin said, anger gathering. “She’s doing something to them, changing their minds, corrupting them. I overheard her saying … Yes. That’s it, I’m certain. Instead of fighting our armies with armies of her own, she plans to bring down the great captains.

“I mean to say that your arrival, while appreciated greatly, cannot turn a battle that is this far gone. A hundred Asha’man cannot stop a hundred thousand Trollocs on their own. If we could arrange our battle lines better, get at least a short rest for my men … but no. That is impossible. We must retreat—unless you can produce a miracle, Lord Logain.” He smiled, perhaps at her use of “lord” for him. “Androl!” he barked. A middle-aged Asha’man hurried over, a plump Aes Sedai joining him. Pevara? Elayne thought, too exhausted to make sense of it. A Red? “My Lord?” the man, Androl, asked. “I need to slow that army of Trollocs long enough for the army to regroup and refield itself, Androl,” Logain said. “How much will it cost us for a miracle?” “Well, my Lord,” Androl said, rubbing his chin. “That depends. How many of those women sitting back there can channel?”

Androl smiled widely, and held his hands out in front of himself as if pressing against a wall. He closed his eyes. “Three thousand years ago the Lord Dragon created Dragonmount to hide his shame. His rage still burns hot. Today … I bring it to you, Your Majesty.”

“Mother,” Min said. “He seemed certain. This isn’t a joke. He wants you to turn your armies over to him.” “My armies,” Egwene said flatly. “Yes.” “In the hands of Matrim Cauthon.” “Um … yes. I should mention, the Empress has given him command of all the Seanchan forces. He’s now Marshal-General Cauthon.”

Wolves appeared in the fog like shadows. They leaped at the Myrddraal, growling. Ituralde started, spinning, as a man in furs pulled himself up onto the top of the rocky outcrop. Tihera stumbled back, calling for their guards. The newcomer in furs leaped for Ituralde and shoved him off the top of the rocks. Ituralde did not fight back. Whoever this man was, Ituralde was grateful to him, feeling a moment of victory as he fell. He hadn’t given the order to retreat.

That was how Mat was. He’d grumbled and muttered all winter about how people made sport of him, insisting that next time, he’d just let them drown. Then the moment he’d seen someone in danger, he’d gone splashing right back in.

How much do you trust Matrim Cauthon? Min had asked. Light. I do trust him. Fool that I am, I do. Mat could be wrong. He often was wrong. But when he was right, he saved lives.

Bryne raised a hand to his head. Then he sagged, as if suddenly his limbs had lost their strength. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he whispered, sounding hollow. “I keep making mistakes, Mother. They are the kind a man can recover from, and I keep telling myself that. Then I make another mistake, and there is more scrambling to fix it.” “You’re just tired,” Gawyn said, voice pained, looking to him. “We all are.” “No,” Bryne said softly. “No, it’s more than that. I’ve been tired before. This is like … my instincts are suddenly wrong. I give the orders, then afterward, I see the holes, the problems. I…” “Compulsion,” Egwene said, feeling cold. “You’ve been Compelled. They’re attacking our great captains.”

“It is a clever move, a way to destroy our armies without us seeing the trap. We should have seen … The great captains should have been better protected.”

“This will change the world,” General Galgan said. “Messengers can respond instantly; commanders can watch their battles and plan in the moment.” Mat grunted in agreement. “I’ll bet it still takes all bloody evening to get dinner from the mess tent, though.” Galgan actually smiled. It was like seeing a boulder crack in half.

“You will give the omen first,” Tuon said, her tone unchanged. “And you will refer to me as Greatest One. It is a high honor that you are given to speak with me directly. Do not let the Prince of the Ravens’ attitude prove a model for your own.” Min quieted, though she didn’t look cowed. She’d spent too long around Aes Sedai to let Tuon bully her. That gave Mat pause. He had an inkling of what Tuon might be capable of, if she grew displeased with Min. He loved her—Light, he was pretty sure he did. But he also let himself be a little afraid of her.

“What someone may do is not grounds to kill them,” Min said. “I intend no disrespect, but if you are going to kill people because of what I tell you, I will not speak.” “You can be made to speak.” “Try it,” Min said softly. Mat started. Bloody ashes, she looked as cold as Tuon had a moment ago. “Let us see how the Pattern treats you, Empress, if you torture the bearer of omens.”

“Aes Sedai,” Mat said, standing up and tipping his hat to the Sitters. “The Crystal Throne appreciates you coming to your bloody senses and letting us direct the battle.”

“This was planned very well,” Mat said, mind racing. “Blood and bloody ashes. They tried to crush all four battlefronts at once. I can’t imagine the amount of coordination that would take…” “As I noted,” Egwene said softly, “we must be very careful. Keep that fox of yours near at all times.”