A Memory of Light

ground, dazed, and then jumped as the Horn fell into his lap. He grabbed it, shaking and blinking away his tears.
    Shadows churned above. Grunting. What was happening? Cautiously, Olver raised his head, and found someone standing above, one foot planted on either side of him. The figure fought in a blur, facing down a dozen Trollocs at once, his staff whirling this way and that as he defended the boy.
    Olver caught sight of the man’s face, and his breath caught. “ Noal'?”
    Noal clubbed a Trolloc arm, forcing the creature back, then glanced at Olver and smiled. Though Noal still appeared aged, the weariness was gone from his eyes, as if a great burden had been lifted from him. A white horse stood nearby, with a golden saddle and reins, the most magnificent animal that Olver had ever seen.
    “Noal, they said you died!” Olver cried.
    “I did,” Noal said, then laughed. “The Pattern was not finished with me, son. Sound that Horn! Sound it proudly, Hornsounder!”
    Olver did so, blowing the Horn as Noal fought the Trollocs back in a small circle around Olver. Noal. Noal was one of the heroes of the Horn!
    Galloping horses announced others, come to rescue Olver from the Shadowspawn.
    Suddenly, Olver felt a deep warmth. He had lost so many people, but one of them . . . one . . . had come back for him.

CHAPTER 40

    Wolfbrother

    E layne’s captors looked at Birgitte, stunned, and Elayne took the moment to jerk her body sideways. She rolled to her knees; her pregnancy made her awkward, but she was hardly incapable. The medallion that Mellar had been holding against her slipped to the ground, and she found the glow of saidar awaiting her grasp. She filled herself with the Power, and held her belly.
    Her children stirred within. Elayne wove flows of Air, knocking her captors backward. Nearby, Elayne’s Guards, having rallied, burst through Mellar’s soldiers. A few stopped when they saw Birgitte.
    “Keep fighting, you daughters and sons of goats!” Birgitte yelled, loosing arrows at the mercenaries. “I might be dead, but I’m still your bloody commander, and you will obey orders!”
    That spurred them into motion. The rising mist curled upward, fogging the battlefield. It seemed to glow faintly in the darkness. In moments, Elayne’s channeling, Birgitte’s bow, and her Guards’ work sent the remnants of Mellar’s Darkfriend mercenaries running.
    Birgitte dropped six of them with arrows as they fled.
    “Birgitte,” Elayne said through tears. “I’m sorry.”
    “Sorry?” Birgitte turned to her. “Sorry? Why do you mourn, Elayne? I have it all back! My memory has returned.” She laughed. “It is wonderful! I don’t know how you stood me these last few weeks. I moped worse than a child who’d just broken her favorite bow.”
    “I . . . Oh, Light.” Elayne’s insides told her she’d still lost her Warder, and the pain of the bond breaking was not a rational thing. It didn’t matter that Birgitte stood before her. “Perhaps I should bond you again?”
    “It would not work,” Birgitte said, waving her hand with a dismissive gesture. “Are you hurt?”
    “Nothing but my pride.”
    “Lucky for you, but luckier that the Horn was blown when it was.” Elayne nodded.
    “I’m going to join the other heroes,” Birgitte said. “You stay here and recover.”
    “Light burn that! ” Elayne said, forcing herself to her feet. “I’m not bloody staying behind now. The babes are all right. I’m riding.”
    “Elayne—”
    “My soldiers think I’m dead,” Elayne said. “Our lines are breaking, our men dying. They have to see me to know that there is still hope. They won’t know what this mist means. If they have ever needed their queen, this is the moment. Nothing short of the Dark One could stop me from returning now.”
    Birgitte frowned.
    “You’re not my Warder any longer,” Elayne said. “But you’re still my friend. Will you ride with me?”
    “Stubborn fool.”
    “I’m not the one who just refused to stay dead. Together?”
    “Together,” Birgitte said, nodding.

    Aviendha pulled up short, listening to new howls. Those didn’t sound quite like wolves.
    The tempest at Shayol Ghul continued. She didn’t know which side was winning. Everywhere lay bodies, some ripped apart by wolves, others still smoldering from attacks of the One Power. The storm winds whipped and raged, though no rain fell, and waves of dust and gravel washed across her.
    She could feel channeling from