loose it if it's right there in front of you?" Jisao asked as he joined Gawyn.
"Because sometimes the prize isn't worth the arrow," Gawyn said. "Come on."
Below, waiting in the dark with lanterns hooded, were some of the very men the soldiers in the village were searching for. Gareth Bryne must have been very displeased to learn there was a harrying force hiding somewhere nearby. He'd been diligent in trying to flush it out, but the countryside near Tar Valon was liberally sprinkled with villages, forests and secluded valleys that could hide a small, mobile strike force. So far, Gawyn had managed to keep his Younglings out of sight while pulling off the occasional raid or ambush on Bryne's forces. There was only so much you could do with three hundred men, however. Particularly when you faced one of the five Great Captains.
Am I destined to end up fighting against each and every man who has been a mentor to me? Gawyn took the reins of his horse and gave a silent order to withdraw by raising his right hand, then gestured sharply away from the village. The men moved without comment, dismounting and leading their mounts for both stealth and safety.
Gawyn had thought he was over Hammar and Coulin's deaths; Bryne himself had taught Gawyn that the battlefield sometimes made allies into sudden foes. Gawyn had fought his former teachers, and Gawyn had won. That was the end of it.
Recently, however, his mind seemed determined to dredge up those corpses and carry them about. Why now, after so long?
He suspected his sense of guilt had to do with facing Bryne, his first and most influential instructor in the arts of war. Gawyn shook his head as he guided Challenge across the darkening landscape; he kept his men away from the road in case Bryne's scouts had placed watchers. The fifty men around Gawyn walked as quietly as possible, the horses' hoofbeats deadened by the springy earth.
If Bryne had been shocked to discover a harrying force striking at his outriders, then Gawyn had been equally shocked to discover those three stars on the uniforms of the men he slew. How had the White Tower's enemies recruited the greatest military mind in all of Andor? And what was the Captain-General of the Queen's Guard doing fighting with a group of Aes Sedai rebels in the first place? He should have been in Caemlyn protecting Elayne.
Light send that Elayne had arrived in Andor. She couldn't still be with the rebels. Not with her homeland lacking a queen. Her duty to Andor outweighed her duty to the White Tower.
And what of your duty, Gawyn Trakand? he thought to himself.
He wasn't certain he had duty, or honor, left to him. Perhaps his guilt about Hammar, his nightmares of war and death at Dumai's Wells, were due to the slow realization that he might have given his allegiance to the wrong side. His loyalty belonged to Elayne and Egwene. What, then, was he still doing fighting a battle he didn't care about, helping a side that—by all accounts—was opposed to the one Elayne and Egwene had chosen?
They're just Accepted, he told himself. Elayne and Egwene didn't choose this side—they are just doing what they've been ordered to do! But the things that Egwene had said to him all those months ago, back in Cairhien, suggested that she had made her decision willingly.
She had chosen a side. Hammar had chosen a side. Gareth Bryne had, apparently, chosen a side. But Gawyn continued to want to be on both sides. The division was ripping him apart.
An hour out of the village, Gawyn gave the order to mount and take to the road. Hopefully, Bryne's scouts wouldn't think to search the land outside the village. If they did, the tracks of fifty horsemen would be hard to miss. There was no avoiding that. The best thing now was to reach firm ground, where the signs of their passing would be hidden by a thousand years of footfalls and traffic. Two pairs of soldiers rode off in front and two pairs hung back to watch. The rest maintained their silence, though their horses now pounded a thunderous gallop. None asked why they were withdrawing, but Gawyn knew that they were wondering, just as Jisao had.
They were good men. Perhaps too good. As they rode, Rajar pulled his mount up beside Gawyn's. Just a few months ago, Rajar had been a youth. But now Gawyn couldn't think of him as