She sent it, almost, with levity.
Behind them, Evin’s screams stopped.
Pevara’s concern was a warmth through the bond. Were all Aes Sedai like her? He’d assumed they had no emotions, but Pevara felt the full range-although she accompanied it with an almost inhuman control over how those emotions affected her. Another result of decades of practice?
He nodded, and they began, Pevara describing the turns of the knot as Androl tried to twist his fingers around them. He failed to get enough purchase on the bonds; he tried pulling his hands free and wiggling them out, but the ropes were too tight.
By the time he accepted defeat, his fingers were numb from the lack of circulation.
Androl sent back agreement, though he couldn’t keep from feeling frustrated. How long could Evin hold out?
The silence taunted him. Why couldn’t he hear any sounds? Then he sensed something. Channeling. Could that be thirteen men? Light. If there were thirteen Myrddraal as well, the situation was dire. What would they do
Pevara sent back approval.
He nodded, mostly for himself, and set back at his knot.
A few moments later, Taim’s cronies returned. Evin squatted down beside Androl. Behind his eyes lurked something different, something awful. He smiled. “Well, that was certainly not as bad as I had assumed it would be, Androl.”
“Oh, Evin. .”
“Don’t worry about me,” Evin said, resting a hand on Androl’s shoulder. “I feel great. No more fear, no more worry. We shouldn’t have been fighting all of this time. We are the Black Tower. We need to work together.”
“Where is Nalaam?” Androl asked.
“Died in the cave-in, I’m afraid.” Evin shook his head. He leaned in. “They’re planning to kill you, Androl, but I think I can convince them that you’re worth Turning instead. You’ll thank me, eventually.”
The terrible thing inside of Evin’s eyes smiled, patted Androl on the shoulder, then rose and began chatting with Mezar and Welyn.
Behind them, Androl could barely see thirteen shadows trailing over to grab Emarin and drag him away to be Turned next. Fades, with cloaks that did not move.
Androl thought how lucky Nalaam was to be crushed in the collapse.
CHAPTER 9
Lan split the head of the Myrddraal in half down to the neck. He danced Mandarb back, letting the Fade thrash as it died, its convulsions twisting the pieces of its skull from the neck. Putrid black blood poured onto the rock, which had already been bloodied a dozen times.
“Lord Mandragoran!”
Lan wheeled toward the call. One of his men pointed back toward their camp, where a spout of bright red light was shooting into the air.
The stench was tremendous. Lan and his men rode away from the front lines, passing two Asha’man and an Aes Sedai-Coladara, who had insisted on staying on as King Paitar’s advisor-channeling to set the Trolloc corpses aflame. That would make it more difficult for the next wave of Shadowspawn.
Lan’s armies had continued their brutal work, holding the Trollocs at the Gap like pitch holding back the spray of water in a leaking boat. The army fought in short rotations, an hour at a time. Bonfires and Asha’man lit the way at night, never giving the Shadowspawn the opportunity to advance.
After two days of grueling battle, Lan knew that this tactic would eventually favor the Trollocs. Humans were killing them by the wagonload, but the Shadow had been building its forces for years. Each night, the Trollocs fed upon the dead; they didn’t have to worry about mess supplies.
Lan kept his shoulders from sagging as he rode away from the front lines, making way for the next group of his troops, but he wanted to collapse and sleep for days. Despite the greater numbers given him by the Dragon Reborn, every man was required to take several shifts on the front lines each day. Lan always joined a few extra.
Finding sleep was not easy for his troops while also caring for their equipment, gathering wood for the bonfires and bringing supplies through gateways. As he surveyed those leaving the front lines with him, Lan sought for what he could do to strengthen them. Nearby, faithful Bulen was sagging. Lan would need to make sure the man slept more, or-
Bulen slid from the saddle.
Lan cursed, stopping Mandarb, and leaped down. He dashed to Bulen’s side and found the man staring blankly into the sky. Bulen had a massive wound in his side, the mail there ripped like a sail that had seen too much wind. Bulen had covered the wound by putting his coat on over his armor. Lan hadn’t seen him hit, nor had he seen the man covering up the wound.
No pulse. Fie was gone.
With teeth clenched, Lan picked up Bulen’s corpse and slung it over his shoulder. Fie hefted the body onto Bulen’s horse and tied it across the saddle. Andere and Prince Kaisel-the Kandori youth and his squad of a hundred usually rode with Lan-sat nearby, watching solemnly. Conscious of their eyes, Lan put his hand on the corpse’s shoulder.
