The highest, he admitted.
Why?
I figured that once you’ve decided to jump off a cliff, you might as well pick the highest one. Why accept the risk, if not for the greatest prize?
Pevara sent back approval. We will escape, Androl. Somehow.
He nodded, mostly for himself, and set back at his knot.
A few moments later, Taim’s cronies returned. Evin squatted down beside Androl. Behind his eyes lurked something different, something awful. He smiled. "Well, that was certainly not as bad as I had assumed it would be, Androl".
"Oh, Evin . . ".
"Don’t worry about me", Evin said, resting a hand on Androl’s shoulder. "I feel great. No more fear, no more worry. We shouldn’t have been fighting all of this time. We are the Black Tower. We need to work together".
You are not my friend, Androl thought. You might have his face, but Evin . . . Oh, Light. Evin is dead.
"Where is Nalaam?" Androl asked.
"Died in the cave-in, I’m afraid". Evin shook his head. He leaned in. "They’re planning to kill you, Androl, but I think I can convince them that you’re worth Turning instead. You’ll thank me, eventually".
The terrible thing inside of Evin’s eyes smiled, patted Androl on the shoulder, then rose and began chatting with Mezar and Welyn.
Behind them, Androl could barely see thirteen shadows trailing over to grab Emarin and drag him away to be Turned next. Fades, with cloaks that did not move.
Androl thought how lucky Nalaam was to be crushed in the collapse.
CHAPTER 9
To Die Well
Lan split the head of the Myrddraal in half down to the neck. He danced Mandarb back, letting the Fade thrash as it died, its convulsions twisting the pieces of its skull from the neck. Putrid black blood poured onto the rock, which had already been bloodied a dozen times.
"Lord Mandragoran!"
Lan wheeled toward the call. One of his men pointed back toward their camp, where a spout of bright red light was shooting into the air.
Noon already? Lan thought, raising his sword and signaling for his Malkieri to retreat. The Kandori and Arafellin troops were swinging in, light cavalry with bows, sending wave after wave of arrows into the mass of Trollocs.
The stench was tremendous. Lan and his men rode away from the front lines, passing two Asha’man and an Aes Sedai—Coladara, who had insisted on staying on as King Paitar’s advisor—channeling to set the Trolloc corpses aflame. That would make it more difficult for the next wave of Shadowspawn.
Lan’s armies had continued their brutal work, holding the Trollocs at the Gap like pitch holding back the spray of water in a leaking boat. The army fought in short rotations, an hour at a time. Bonfires and Asha’man lit the way at night, never giving the Shadowspawn the opportunity to advance.
After two days of grueling battle, Lan knew that this tactic would eventually favor the Trollocs. Humans were killing them by the wagonload, but the Shadow had been building its forces for years. Each night, the Trollocs fed upon the dead; they didn’t have to worry about mess supplies.
Lan kept his shoulders from sagging as he rode away from the front lines, making way for the next group of his troops, but he wanted to collapse and sleep for days. Despite the greater numbers given him by the Dragon Reborn, every man was required to take several shifts on the front lines each day. Lan always joined a few extra.
Finding sleep was not easy for his troops while also caring for their equipment, gathering wood for the bonfires and bringing supplies through gateways. As he surveyed those leaving the front lines with him, Lan sought for what he could do to strengthen them. Nearby, faithful Bulen was sagging. Lan would need to make sure the man slept more, or—
Bulen slid from the saddle.
Lan cursed, stopping Mandarb, and leaped down. He dashed to Bulen’s side and found the man staring blankly into the sky. Bulen had a massive wound in his side, the mail there ripped like a sail that had seen too much wind. Bulen had covered the wound by putting his coat on over his armor. Lan hadn’t seen him hit, nor had he seen the man covering up the wound.
Fool! Lan thought, feeling at Bulen’s neck.
No pulse. He was gone.
Fool! Lan thought again, bowing his head. You wouldn’t leave my side, would you? That’s why you hid it. You were afraid I'd die out there while you came back for Healing.