The Gathering Storm

"Then why drink it?" Gawyn asked.

"It's supposed to improve my health," Bryne grumbled. Before Gawyn could ask further, the large general continued, "So are you going to make me throw you in the stocks before you'll tell me why you decided to fight your way into my command post?"

Gawyn stepped forward. "Gareth. It's Egwene. They have her."

"The White Tower Aes Sedai?"

Gawyn nodded urgently.

"I know." Bryne took another drink, then grimaced again.

"We have to go for her!" Gawyn said. "I came to ask you for help. I intend to mount a rescue."

Bryne snorted softly. "A rescue? And how do you intend to get into the White Tower? Even the Aiel couldn't break into that city."

"They didn't want to," Gawyn said. "But I don't need to take the city, I just need to sneak a small force in, then get one person out. Every rock has its cracks. I'll find a way."

Bryne set his cup aside. He looked at Gawyn, firm, weathered face an icon of nobility. "But tell me this, lad. How are you going to get her to come out with you?"

Gawyn started. "Why, she'll be happy to come. Why wouldn't she?"

"Because she's forbidden us to rescue her," Bryne said, clasping his hands behind his back again. "Or so I've been able to gather. The Aes Sedai tell me little. One would think they'd be more trusting toward a man they depend on to run this siege of theirs. Anyway, the Amyrlin can communicate with them somehow, and she's instructed them to leave her be."

What? That was ridiculous! Obviously, the Aes Sedai in camp were fudging the facts. "Bryne, she's imprisoned! The Aes Sedai I heard talking said that she's being beaten daily. They'll execute her!"

"I don't know," Bryne said. "She's been with them for weeks now and they haven't killed her yet."

"They'll kill her," Gawyn said urgently. "You know they will. Perhaps you parade a fallen enemy before your soldiers for a time, but eventually you have to mount his head on a pike to let them know he's dead and gone. You know I'm right."

Bryne regarded him, then nodded. "Perhaps I do. But there's still nothing I can do. I'm bound by oaths, Gawyn. I can't do anything unless that girl instructs me to."

"You'd let her die?"

"If that's what it takes to keep my oath, then yes."

If Bryne was bound by oath . . . well, he'd sooner hear an Aes Sedai tell a lie than see Gareth Bryne break his word. But Egwene! There had to be something he could do!

"I'll try to get you an audience with some of the Aes Sedai I serve," Bryne said. "Perhaps they can do something. If you persuade them that a rescue is needed, and that the Amyrlin would want it, then we'll see."

Gawyn nodded. It was something at least. "Thank you."

Bryne waved indifferently. "Though I should see you in the stocks. For wounding three of my men, if nothing else."

"Have an Aes Sedai Heal them," Gawyn said. "From what I've heard, you've no lack of sisters to bully you."

"Bah," Bryne said. "I can rarely get them to Heal anyone unless the soldier's life is threatened. I had a man take a bad spill while riding the other day, and I was told that Healing would only teach him to be reckless. 'Pain is its own lesson,' the blasted woman said. 'Perhaps next time he won't see fit to make sport for his friends while riding.' "

e the sergeant had his sword free, Gawyn slammed into him, ramming an elbow into his gut just beneath the poorly fitting breastplate. The man grunted and bent, then Gawyn knocked him on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword—the man should have known better than to wear his cap askew like that. Then Gawyn fell into Parting the Silk to deal with the first halberdier. As another of the men screamed for help, Gawyn's blade slashed across the first halberdier's breastplate with a ringing sound, forcing the man back. Gawyn finished by sweeping the man's feet from under him, then fell into Twisting the Wind to block a pair of blows from the other two men.

It was unfortunate, but he had to resort to striking the thighs of the two standing halberdiers. He'd have preferred to avoid wounding them, but fights—even one such as this, against far less skilled opponents—became unpredictable the longer they lasted. One had to control the battlefield quickly and soundly, and that meant dropping the two soldiers—clutching their bleeding thighs. The sergeant was out cold from the rap to the head, but the first halberdier was rising shakily. Gawyn kicked the man's halberd aside, then planted a boot in his face, knocking him back and bloodying his nose.

Challenge whinnied from behind, snorting and stamping the ground. The warhorse sensed a fight, but was well trained. He knew that when his reins were dropped, he was to remain still. Gawyn wiped his blade on his trouser leg, then slid it back into its sheath, the wounded soldiers groaning on the ground. He patted Challenge on the nose and took up the reins again. Behind Gawyn, nearby camp followers backed away, then ran. A group of soldiers from inside the palisade approached with bows drawn. That was not good. Gawyn turned to face them, pulling his still-sheathed sword free from his belt and tossing it to the ground in front of the men.

"I am unarmed," he said over the sounds of the wounded. "And none of these four will die this day. Go and tell your general that a lone blade-master just felled a squad of his guards in under ten heartbeats. I'm an old student of his. He'll want to see me."

One of the men scrambled forward to take Gawyn's fallen sword while another signaled to a runner. The others kept their bows raised. One of the fallen halberdiers began to crawl away. Gawyn turned Challenge at an angle, making ready to duck behind the horse if the soldiers moved to draw. He'd much prefer it not come to that, but of the two of them, Challenge was far more likely to survive a few shortbow shafts than Gawyn.

Several of the soldiers risked coming forward to help their fallen friends. The heavyset watch sergeant was stirring, and he sat up, cursing under his breath. Gawyn made no threatening motions.