A Memory of Light

before. Except . . .
    Except by the light of the Dreadlords’ fires, the faces of those soldiers were the same as the ones who had fought here before . . . fought here and died.
    Grady gaped as he stood up in the darkness, watching those people attack. They were all the same. The same matrons, the same farriers and blacksmiths, the very same people. He’d watched them die, and now they were back again.
    The Trollocs probably couldn’t tell one human from another, but the Dreadlords saw it—and understood that these were the same people. Those three Dreadlords seemed stunned. One of the Dreadlords yelled out about the Dark Lord abandoning them. He started flinging weaves at the people.
    Those people just charged on, heedless of the danger as many of their number were blown apart. They fell on the Dreadlords, hacking at them with farming implements and kitchen knives. By the time the Trollocs attacked, the Dreadlords were down. Now he could. . . .
    Shaking off his stupor, Grady gathered his power and destroyed the dam blocking the canyon.
    And in doing so, he released the river.

CHAPTER 41

    A Smile

    C authon has the dragons back and fighting again,” Jonneth said, trying to peer through the smoke. “Listen to them!”
    Pounding echoed across the top of the Heights. Pevara smiled. She, Androl, Jonneth, Emarin and Canler had joined Logain and the other Ashaman, along with some of the Aes Sedai who were bonded to them. They stood at the edge of the steep slopes opposite Dashar Knob, a half mile up from where Demandred’s headless corpse lay.
    Another round of dragonfire sounded across the Heights, though in the darkness, they couldn’t see the smoke. “Those dragons won’t last long, not if Taim’s men have mixed in with the Sharans,” Pevara said. “The dragoners can’t defend themselves against channelers, and they’re too easy to locate because of the noise.”
    “I doubt Cauthon has a choice but to use them,” Androl said. “He can’t hold anything back now.”
    “Asha’man!” Logain appeared through the smoke, striding among them, Gabrelle at his side. “It is time to move.”
    “We’re going to go defend those dragons?” Androl asked. Around them, dozens of other exhausted Asha’man hauled themselves to their feet, turning to Logain.
    “No,” Logain said. “We’re going to move west.”
    “To the west?” Pevara folded her arms. “That’s away from the battle!
    It is where your Amyrlin fought Taim,” Logain said, turning away from her. “The ground there, as well as many of the Sharans, was entombed in crystal. I want every Asha’man, soldier and Dedicated to whom I have not given other specific orders to begin searching. There is—”
    The ground shook, rumbling ominously, and Pevara stumbled. Androl caught her by the arm, though she sensed exhaustion through the bond to match her own. They didn’t have much left in them.
    As the trembling subsided, Logan continued. “Somewhere, inside that mass of crystals, is a golden scepter. Taim was said to have been holding it when Egwene al’Vere defeated him. we're going to find it. If any of you see it, do not touch it. Send for me.”
    Logain shouted the same orders to the next group of Asha’man. Androl watched him go, and Pevara sensed his frustration.
    “If that scepter is an angreal or sa’angreal ,” Emarin said, “it could be of great use to us.”
    “Maybe,” Pevara said. “I think those dragons need protecting more than we need that rod. I swear there’s something about that horn sounding. We should be attacking now, not searching for battle spoils . . .”
    “The other Asha’man can do that,” Androl said. “We don’t have to.
    What?” Canler said, scowling. “You’re going to disobey?”
    “No,” Androl said. “He said this is for men who didn’t have any other orders. We do. Back at the start of the battle he told us to watch for Taim’s lackeys and to do something about them.”
    “I’m not sure he remembers that order, Androl,” Emarin said, rubbing his chin. “And I don’t know that if he did remember, he’d want us to follow it now. He seems pretty intent on that scepter.”
    “He gave us the order nonetheless,” Androl said.
    “Androl,” Canler said, sitting on his heels, “I feel so tired, I could hardly gather the strength to curse you if I wanted. None of these lads look any better, and you struggle to open a small gateway. How are we going to stand up to Mishraile and the