The Gathering Storm

Bryne gritted his teeth. 'We move on.'

'I feel that pain, Bryne,' Siuan said, turning around and eyeing him. 'What is it?'

'We don't have time. The Amyrlin—'

'Can wait another moment. What is it?'

'Three men,' he said. 'I have to leave three of my men to die.'

'Not if I Heal them,' Siuan said. 'Show me.'

Bryne made no further objection, though he did glance at the sky. Several of the raken had landed elsewhere in the Tower grounds, vague black shapes, lit by the fires in flickering orange. The fleeing Seanchan were congregating at them.

Those were the ground assault troops, he thought. They really are pulling out. The raid is ending.

Which meant they were running out of time. As soon as the Seanchan left, the White Tower would start to reorganize. They needed to reach Egwene! Light send that she hadn't been captured.

Still, if Siuan wanted to Heal the soldiers, then it was her decision. He just hoped that these three lives did not end up costing the life of the Amyrlin.

Vestas had set the three soldiers by themselves at the side of the green, beneath the boughs of a large shade tree. Bryne brought a squad of soldiers, leaving Gawyn to organize the rest of the men, and followed Siuan over to the wounded. She knelt beside the first man. Her skill in Healing was not the best; she'd warned Bryne of this ahead of time. But perhaps she could make these three well enough that they would survive to be discovered and taken by the White Tower.

She worked quickly, and Bryne noticed that she'd done herself an injustice. She seemed to do a creditable job with the Healing. Still, it took time. He scanned the courtyard, feeling his anxiety rise. Though blasts were still being exchanged on the upper floors, the lower floors and grounds were silent. The only sounds nearby were those of the groaning wounded and the crackling of flames.

Light, he thought, surveying the rubble, running his eyes over the Tower's base. The east wing's roof and far wall had been leveled, and flames flickered inside the structure. The courtyard was a mess of rubble and gouges. Smoke hung in the air, pungent and thick. Would the Ogier be willing to return and rebuild this magnificent structure? Would it ever be the same again, or had a seemingly eternal monument fallen this evening? Was he proud or grieved to have witnessed it?

A shadow moved in the darkness beside the tree.

Bryne moved without thought. Three things in him mixed: years of training with the sword, a lifetime of practiced battlefield reflexes and a new bond-enhanced awareness. All came together in one motion. His sword was out in a heartbeat, and he performed Blacklance's Last Strike, slamming his sword straight into the neck of the dark figure.

All was still. Siuan, shocked, looked up from the man she was Healing. Bryne's sword extended directly over her shoulder and into the neck of a Seanchan soldier in pure black armor. The man silently dropped a wickedly barbed shortsword slathered with a viscous liquid. Twitching, he reached for Bryne's sword, as if to push it free. His fingers gripped Bryne's arm for a moment.

Then the man slid backward off of Bryne's blade and to the ground. He spasmed once, whispering something distinct despite the bubbling of his bleeding throat. 'Marath . . . damane . . .'

'Light burn me!' Siuan breathed, raising a hand to her breast. 'What was that?'

'He wasn't dressed like the others,' Bryne said, shaking his head. 'The armor is different. Assassin of some sort.'

'Light,' Siuan said. 'I didn't even see him! He almost seemed part of the darkness itself!'

Assassins. They always seemed to look the same, regardless of the culture. Bryne sheathed his sword. That was the first time he'd ever used Blacklance's Last Strike in combat. It was a simple form, intended for only one thing: speed. Draw the sword and strike into the neck in one fluid motion. If you missed, you usually died.

'You saved my life,' Siuan said, looking up at Bryne. Her face was mostly shadowed. 'By the seas at midnight,' she said, 'the blasted girl was right.'

'Who?' Bryne asked, warily scanning the darkness for more assassins. He waved curtly, and his men sheepishly opened their lanterns further. The assassin's attack had come so quickly that they had barely moved. If Bryne hadn't had the speed of a Warder bond. . . .

'Min,' Siuan said, sounding tired. Those Healings seemed to have taken a lot out of her. 'She said I had to stay near you.' She paused. 'If you hadn't come tonight, I would have died.'

'Well,' Bryne said, 'I am your Warder. I suspect it won't be the only time I save you.' Why had it grown so warm all of a sudden?

'Yes,' Siuan said, standing up. 'But this is different. Min said I'd die, and . . . No, wait. That's not what Min said exactly. She said that if I didn't stay close to you, we'd both die.'

'What are you—' Bryne said, turning toward her.

'Hush!' Siuan said, taking his head in her hands. He felt a strange prickling sensation. Was she using the Power on him? What was going on? He recognized that shock, like ice in the veins! She was Healing him! But why? He wasn't wounded.

Siuan took her hands off his face, then teetered slightly with a sudden look of exhaustion. He grabbed her, to help steady her, but she shook her head and righted herself. 'Here,' she said, grabbing his sword arm, twisting it so that the wrist was visible. There, pressed into his skin, was a tiny black pin. She yanked it free. Bryne felt a chill totally unrelated to the Healing.

'Poisoned?' he asked, glancing at the dead man. 'When he reached for my arm, it wasn't a simple death spasm.'

'Probably had a numbing agent on it,' Siuan muttered angrily, letting him help her sit down. She tossed the pin aside and it suddenly burst into flames, the poison evaporating beneath the heat of her channeling.

Bryne ran a hand through his hair. His brow was damp. 'Did you . . . Heal it?'

Siuan nodded. 'It was surprisingly easy; there was only a little in your system. It would have killed you anyway. You'll have to thank Min next time you see her, Bryne. She just saved both of our lives.'

'But I wouldn't have been poisoned if I hadn't come!'

'Don't try to apply logic to a viewing or Foretelling like this,' Siuan said, grimacing. 'You're alive. I'm alive. I suggest we leave it at that. You feel good enough to keep going?'

'Does it matter?' Bryne said. 'I'm not about to let you go on without me.'

'Let's move, then,' Siuan said, taking a deep breath and climbing to her feet. That rest hadn't been nearly long enough, but he didn't challenge her. 'These three soldiers of yours will survive the night. I've done what I can for them.'

Egwene sat, exhausted, on a pile of rubble, staring out of the hole in the White Tower, watching fires burning below. Figures moved about them, and one by one, the fires winked out. Whoever had been running the resistance was quick-minded enough to realize that the fires could prove as dangerous as the Seanchan. But a few sisters weaving Air or Water could make short work of the flames, preserving the Tower. What was left of it.

Egwene closed her eyes and lay back, resting against the fragments of a wall, feeling the fresh breeze blow across her. The Seanchan were gone, the last to'raken vanishing into the night. That moment, watching it flee, was the moment when Egwene realized how hard she'd taxed herself and the poor novices she'd been drawing through. She'd released them with orders to go directly to sleep. The other women she'd gathered were caring for wounded or working on the fires on the upper levels.

Egwene wanted to help. A part of her did, at least. A sliver. But Light, she was tired! She couldn't channel another trickle, not even using the sa'angreal. She'd pushed the limits of what she could manage. But she was so worn out now that she wouldn't be able to embrace the Source if she tried.

She'd fought. She'd been glorious and destructive, the Amyrlin of judgment and fury, Green Ajah to the core. And still, the Tower had burned. And still, more to'raken had escaped than had fallen. The count of wounded among those she'd gathered was somewhat encouraging. Only three novices and one Aes Sedai dead, while they'd gathered ten damane and killed dozens of soldiers. But what of the other floors? The White Tower would not come out ahead in this battle.

The White Tower was broken, physically now as well as spiritually. They'd need a strong leader to rebuild. The next few days would be pivotal. It made her more than exhausted to consider the work she'd need to do.