A Memory of Light

us? Why are you doing this? Why?”
    “You’re overreacting, Lan,” Agelmar said, keeping his calm with obvious difficulty, his eyes burning. “What’s going through your head? Light!
    Why did you pull the archers off of the eastern hills?”
    “Because I needed them elsewhere!”
    “And does that make sense?” Lan demanded. “Didn’t you tell me that guarding that flank was vital?”
    “I . .
    “You drew away the scouts from that position too. Why?”
    “They ... It ...” Agelmar raised a hand to his head, looking dazed. He looked down at the battle map, and his eyes widened.
    “What’s wrong with you, Agelmar?” Lan said.
    “I don’t know,” the man said. He blinked, staring at the maps at his feet. His face adopted a look of horror, eyes wide, lips parting. “Oh, Light! What have I done?”
    “Pass my orders!” Lan said urgently to his high guard. “Bring Lord Baldhere to the command tent. Queen Ethenielle and King Easar as well.”
    “Lan, you have to bring the ...” Agelmar stopped. “Light! I cant say it. I start thinking about what to do, and the wrong thoughts come into my head! I'm still trying to sabotage us. I’ve doomed us.” His eyes wide, he reached for his shortsword, sliding the blade free.
    Lan caught the sword around the guard and the blade collar, stopping it just before Agelmar could ram it into his stomach and end his life. Blood seeped between Lan’s fingers from where one brushed the sharp edge of the blade, just below the collar.
    “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!”
    Agelmar froze. He met Lan’s eyes, then nodded once. Lan removed his fingers from the blade and Agelmar thrust it back in its sheath. The great captain sat down cross-legged in the traditional Shienaran meditation posture, eyes closed.
    Lan strode away, calling orders. Prince Kaisel ran up to him, obviously afraid. “What’s happening, Lord Mandragoran?”
    “Compulsion, likely,” Lan said. “We’ve been like rabbits in a snare, with the line being drawn slowly—but snugly—around our necks. Someone please tell me the Asha’man still have enough strength for gateways! And bring me news of the eastern flank! Those archers will need support. Commit the rest of the reserves to protecting them.”
    Prince Kaisel backed away as the orders continued, his eyes wide, his hand on his sword. He looked at Lord Agelmar, face pale. “We’ve really lost?” he asked Lan once the orders were out, messengers racing to deliver them.
    “Yes,” Lan said. “We have.”
    “Lan!” Agelmar said suddenly, opening his eyes.
    Lan turned to him.
    “Queen Tenobia,” Agelmar said. “I’ve sent her into danger without understanding what I’d done. Whoever put these plans into my head wanted her dead!”
    Lan swore softly, bolting out of camp and up the side of the nearest hill. The scouts there made room for him as he reached the top, pulling his looking glass from his belt. He didn’t need it. He found the Queens flag while scanning the battlefield.
    She was surrounded. Whatever support she had thought she would receive had not been sent. Lan opened his mouth to call orders, but they died on his lips as the Trollocs swarmed over the small flag of white and silver where she’d been fighting. It fell, and in seconds, he couldn’t pick out a living soldier in that section of the battlefield.
    Coldness. He could do nothing for Tenobia. It was no longer about saving individuals.
    He would be lucky to escape this day with any semblance of an army at all.

    Mat rode with Tuon south toward the battlefield, along the banks of the river that was the western border of Arafel.
    Of course, where Tuon went, so did Selucia. And now Min; Tuon wanted to keep her new Doomseer at her side at all times. Tuon kept asking for viewings, and Min kept reluctantly explaining what she saw.
    Mat had tried to make her say she saw a hat floating around Mat’s head. That would persuade Tuon to stop trying to get rid of his, would it not? It would have been better than Min explaining about the eye on a scale, and the dagger, and all of the other bloody things she had seen about Mat.
    Where Tuon