A Memory of Light

of the Darkhounds?
    I have to take this chance, she thought. She wove, releasing a ray of blue light into the sky—the sign she, Amys and Cadsuane had agreed upon.
    That, of course, alerted Graendal. The Forsaken spun on Aviendha and lashed out with Fire. Aviendha dodged, rolling. A shield came next, trying to cut Aviendha off from the Source. She desperately pulled in as much of the One Power as she could hold, drawing it through the turtle brooch. Cutting a woman off with a shield was like trying to snip a rope with shears— the thicker the rope, the more difficult it was to cut. In this case, Aviendha had taken in enough saidar to rebuff the shield.
    She gritted her teeth, spinning weaves of her own. Light, she hadn’t realized how tired she was. She almost slipped, the threads of the One Power threatening to drift from her control.
    She drove them into place by force of will and released a weave of Air and Fire, although she knew that those captives included friends and allies.
    They would rather die than be used by the Shadow, she told herself as she dodged another attack. The ground exploded around her, and she dove to the ground.
    No. Keep moving.
    Aviendha leaped to her feet and ran. That saved her life as lightning began to rain down behind her, its might sprawling her to the ground again.
    She came up bleeding from several cuts on her arm, and started making weaves. She had to drop them as a complex weave came near her. Compulsion. If that seized her, Aviendha would become another of the woman's thralls, forced to lend her strength to overthrowing the Light.
    Aviendha wove Earth into the ground in front of herself, throwing up chips of rock, dust, smoke. Then she rolled away, seeking a hollow in the ground, peeking out carefully. She held her breath, and did not channel.
    The whipping winds cleared the diversion she’d created. Graendal hesitated in the middle of the field. She could not sense Aviendha, who had earlier placed upon herself the weave that masked her ability. If she channeled, Graendal would know, but if she did not she would be safe.
    Graendal’s Aiel thralls stalked outward, their veils up, searching for Aviendha. Aviendha was tempted to channel right then and there, to end their lives. Any Aiel she knew would thank her for that.
    She stayed her hand; she didn’t want to give herself away. Graendal was too strong. She could not face the woman alone. But if she waited . . .
    A weave of Air and Spirit attacked Graendal, trying to cut her off from the Source. The woman cursed, spinning. Cadsuane and Amys had arrived.

    “Stand! Stand for Andor and the Queen!”
    Elayne galloped through groups of pikemen, now in disarray, her hair streaming behind her, shouting with a Power-aided voice. She held aloft a sword, though the Light only knew what she would do with it if she had to swing it.
    Men turned as she passed. Some were cut down by Trollocs as they did so. The beasts were pushing through the defenses, reveling in the broken lines and the slaughter.
    My men are too far gone, Elayne thought. Oh, Light. My poor soldiers. The tale she saw was one of death and despair. The Andoran and Cairhienin pike formations had folded after taking horrible casualties; now men held in little bunches, many scattering, scrambling for their lives. “Stand!” Elayne cried. “Stand with your queen!”
    More men stopped running, but they didn’t go back to the fighting. What to do?
    Fight.
    Elayne attacked a Trolloc. She used the sword, despite just moments ago thinking that she’d be hopeless with it. She was. The boar-headed Trolloc actually looked surprised as she flailed at it.
    Fortunately, Birgitte was there, and shot the beast in the forearm as it swung for Elayne. That saved her life, but still didn’t let her kill the blasted thing. Her mount—borrowed from one of her Guardsmen—danced around, keeping the Trolloc from cutting her down, as she tried to stab it. Her sword didn’t move in the direction she willed. The One Power was far more refined a weapon. She would use that if she had to, but she would rather fight for the moment.
    She didn’t have to struggle long. Soldiers surrounded her, dispatching the beast and defending her from four others that had begun advancing on her. Elayne wiped her brow and pulled back.
    “What was that?' Birgitte asked, riding up beside her, then loosing an arrow at a Trolloc before it could kill one of the soldiers. “Ratliff’s nails, Elayne! I thought