A Memory of Light

knot. It’s a hefty one, but I might be able to guide you .
    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. It’s not going to work, he sent.
    I’ve been trying to push out of this shield , Pevara replied. It’s possible, and I think our shields might be tied off. Tied-off shields fail.
    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 if they escaped? They couldn’t fight so many.
    Which cliff did you choose? Pevara sent him.
    What?
    You said that when you were among the Sea Folk, they jumped off cliffs to prove their bravery. The higher the cliff, the braver the jumper. Which cliff did you choose?
    The highest, he admitted.
    Why?
    I figured that once you’ve decided to jump off a cliff, you might as well pick the highest one. Why accept the risk, if not for the greatest prize?
    Pevara sent back approval. We will escape, Androl. Somehow.
    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.”
    You are not my friend, Androl thought. You might have his face, but Evin . . . Oh, Light. Evin is dead.
    “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

    To Die Well

    L an 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.
    Noon already? Lan thought, raising his sword and signaling for his Malkieri to retreat. The Kandori and Arafellin troops were swinging in, light cavalry with bows, sending wave after wave of arrows into the mass of Trollocs.
    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