A Memory of Light

said that we were only a reserve force, and that under no circumstances were we to move from here until he gave the order. He said many lives depended on it. But look, you can see for yourself,” she said, gesturing toward the river, “the battle is not going well.”
    Mat had been too caught up with Tylee to see the state of affairs across the water, but now he gave the field a wide sweep with his eye.
    While the damane still seemed to be holding their own against the Sharan channelers, the regular troops were clearly in a bind. The defenses on Bryne's left flank downriver had completely broken down, and the soldiers there were being mobbed by Sharans.
    Where was the cavalry? It was supposed to be protecting the flanks. And, as Mat had predicted, Sharan archers had moved out into the field and were sending arrows into Bryne’s cavalry on the right flank. It was all like a boil being squeezed, and Bryne's troops were the boil about to pop.
    This doesn’t make any bloody sense,” Mat said. “He’s spinning this more and more into a disaster. Where is the general now, Tylee?”
    “I cannot say, Highness, I have people out looking for him, but so far there is no word. But I have reports that our side has had a major setback just south of here. Two large cavalry units of General Bryne’s have been wiped out by the Sharans just below the hills on the border. It is said they had been sent there to relieve the marath'damane on the hilltops.”
    “Blood and bloody ashes.” Mat considered this information. “All right, Tylee, we can’t wait around any longer. Here’s what we are going to do. Have Banner-General Makoti take the Second Banner right up the middle. He has to work his way around our troops fighting there and push back those Sharans. You take the Third Banner and swing around to the right flank; take out those archers and any other goat-kissers that cross your path. I’m going to take the First Banner over to the left flank and put a patch on those defenses. Get going, Tylee!”
    “Yes, Highness. But surely you aren’t going to get so close to the battle?
    Yes I am. Now get going, Tylee!”
    “Please, if I might make a humble suggestion, Highness? You are unprotected; let me at least give you some proper armor.”
    Mat thought for a moment, then agreed that her suggestion was a prudent one. A person could get hurt out there, what with arrows flying and blades swinging. Tylee called over one of her senior officers who seemed to be about the same size as Mat. She had the man remove his armor, which was extremely colorful, overlapping plates lacquered green, gold and red, outlined with silver. The officer looked bemused when Mat handed him his coat in trade, saying that he expected it to be returned at the end of the day in the same condition. Mat put on the armor, which covered his chest, the back of his arms and the front of his thighs, and it felt comfortable enough. When the officer held out his helmet, though, Mat ignored him, merely adjusting his wide-brimmed hat as he turned to Tylee.
    “Highness, one more thing, the marath'damane . . .”
    “I’ll deal with those channelers personally,” Mat said.
    She gawked at him as if he were insane. Bloody ashes, he probably was. “Highness!” Tylee said. “The Empress . . ” She stopped when she saw Mat’s expression. “Let us at least send for some damane to protect you.”
    “I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much. Those bloody women would just get in my way.” He grinned. “Are you ready, Tylee? I would really like this over with before it’s time for my bedtime mug of ale.” In response, Tylee turned and yelled, “Mount up!” Light, she had a strong set of lungs! With that, thousands of bottoms hit their saddles, producing a slapping sound that reverberated across the legion, and each soldier sat at attention, eyes straight ahead. He’d give the Seanchan one thing— they trained bloody good soldiers.
    Tylee barked out a series of orders, turned back to Mat and said, “On your command, Highness.”
    Mat cried out, “ Los caba'drin! ” Words most of those assembled did not understand, and yet instinctively knew to mean “Horsemen forward!”
    As Mat spurred Pips into the waters of the ford, the ashandarei raised above his head, he heard the ground rumble as the First Banner closed ranks around him. The blaring Seanchan horns behind were giving the call to charge, each horn pitched slightly differently from the