"Saerin Sedai!" Captain Chubain said, turning from a group of wounded soldiers. Saerin hadn't seen them enter; she'd been too caught up with Katerine. "These men are down from the upper levels. It appears that there's a second rallying point for the defense, and it's doing very well. The Seanchan are breaking off their attack below to focus there."
"Where?" Saerin asked eagerly. "Specifically?"
"The twenty-second, Aes Sedai. Northeastern quarter."
"What?" Katerine asked. "The Brown Ajah sections?"
No. That was what had been there before. Now, with the swapping of the Tower's corridors, that area of the Tower was . . . "The novices' quarters?" Saerin said. That seemed even more ridiculous. "How in the world. . . ." She trailed off, eyes widening slightly. "Egwene."
Each faceless Seanchan that Egwene struck down seemed to be Renna in her mind's eye. Egwene stood at an open hole in the side of the White Tower, wind pulling at her white dress, tugging at her hair, howling as if in accompaniment to her rage.
Her anger was not out of control. It was cold and distilled. The Tower was burning. She had Foretold this, she had Dreamed it, but the reality was far worse than she had feared. If Elaida had prepared for the event, the damage would have been much less. But there was no point in longing for what had not been.
Instead, she directed her anger—the anger of justice, the wrath of the Amyrlin. She blasted to'raken after to'raken from the air. They were much less maneuverable than their smaller cousins. She must have felled a dozen by now, and her actions had drawn the attention of those outside. The attack below was breaking off, the entire raid focusing on Egwene. The novices fought Seanchan raiding parties on the stairs, forcing them back. To'raken winged about in the air, swooping around the Tower, trying to take Egwene with shields or blasts of fire. Smaller raken darted through the air, crossbowmen on their backs launching bolts at her.
But she was a fount of Power, drawn from deep within the fluted rod in her hands, channeled through a group of novices and Accepted hiding in the room behind, bound to her in circle. Egwene was part of the fires that burned in the Tower, bloodying the sky with their flames, painting the air with their smoke. She almost seemed not a being of flesh, but one of pure Power, sending judgment to those who had dared bring war to the Tower itself. Blasts of lightning stormed from the sky, the clouds churning above. Fire sprouted from her hands.
Perhaps she should have feared breaking the Three Oaths. But she did not. This was a fight that needed to be fought, and she did not lust for death—though, perhaps, her rage against the sul'dam approached it. The soldiers and damane were unfortunate casualties.
The White Tower, the sacred dwelling of the Aes Sedai, was under attack. They were all in danger, a danger greater than death. Those silvery collars were far worse. Egwene defended herself and each woman in the Tower.
She would make the Seanchan withdraw.
Shield after shield came to sever her from the source, but they were like the hands of children trying to stem the roaring flow of a waterfall. With this much power, she could not be stopped save by a full circle, and the Seanchan didn't use circles; the a'dam prevented it.
The attackers prepared weaves to strike her down, but each time Egwene struck first, either deflecting the balls of fire with a blast of air or simply bringing down the to'raken who carried the women trying to kill her.
Some beasts had flown away into the night, bearing captives. Egwene had felled the ones she could, but there had been so many to'raken in this raid. Some would escape. Sisters would be captured.
She formed a ball of fire in each hand, blasting another beast from the sky as it swooped too close. Yes, some would escape. But they would pay dearly. That was another goal. She had to make certain they never attacked the Tower again.
This raid had to cost them.
"Bryne! Above you!"
Gareth dodged to the side, rolling with a grunt, breastplate digging into his sides and belly as he hit cobblestones. Something massive in the air passed just above him, and a thudding crash followed. He came up on one knee to see a burning raken tumbling across the ground where he had been standing, its rider—already dead from the fireblast that had killed his mount—tumbling free like a rag doll. The raken corpse, still smoldering, slumped to a rest beside the Tower wall. The rider lay where he had fallen, the helm bouncing away into the darkness. One of the corpse's boots was missing.
Bryne heaved himself to his feet and pulled his belt knife free—he'd dropped his sword in the roll. He spun, scanning for danger. There was plenty of it to be found. Raken swooped—big ones and small ones— though most were fixated on the Tower above. The inner green at the front of the Tower was studded with chunks of stone and bodies twisted into horrific positions. Bryne's men were fighting a squadron of Seanchan soldiers; the invaders in their insectile armor had piled out of the Tower moments ago. Were the Seanchan running away from something or just looking for a fight? There were a good thirty of them.
Had the soldiers come out to this courtyard to be lifted away? Well, either way, they had met an unexpected force in Bryne's soldiers. Light be blessed, there were no channelers in the group.
With over two-to-one odds, Bryne's men should have had an easy time of it. Unfortunately, there were some few of the bigger raken above dropping stones and fireballs on the courtyard's occupants. And these Seanchan fought well. Very well.
Bryne called for his men to stand fast, glancing about for his sword. Gawyn—the one who had warned him earlier—stood near it, dueling two Seanchan at once. Had the boy no sense? Gawyn's force had the upper hand. He should have a swordmate with him. He—Gawyn dispatched both Seanchan with one fluid motion. Was that Lotus Closes Its Blossom? Bryne had never seen it used so effectively against two men at once. Gawyn wiped his weapon as part of the traditional finishing flourish, then sheathed it and kicked Brynes fallen sword up into the air and snatched it. He fell into a guard position, holding the sword, wary. Bryne's line of men was holding, despite the attacks from above. Gawyn nodded to Bryne, waving him forward with the sword.
Metal on metal rang across the courtyard, shadows thrown across the scarred grass, lit by the fires above. Bryne took his sword back and Gawyn unsheathed his own blade, on edge. "Look up there," he said and pointed with his sword.
Bryne squinted. There was a great deal of activity near a hole in one of the upper floors. He pulled free his spyglass, focusing on the location, trusting in Gawyn to warn him if danger approached.
"By the Light . . ." Bryne whispered, focusing on the gap. A solitary figure wearing white stood in the Tower's rent. It was too distant to make out her face, even with the spyglass, but whoever she was, she was certainly doing some damage to the Seanchan. Her arms were upraised with fire glowing between her hands, the burning light throwing shadows across the outer Tower wall around her. Blasts of fire flew in a steady stream, flinging raken from the sky.
He raised his spyglass higher, scanning the length of the Tower, searching for other signs of resistance. There was activity on the flat, circular roof. It was so distant he could barely make it out. It looked like poles being raised, followed by raken swooping down and . . . What? Each time a raken swooped by, it left dragging something.
Captives, Bryne realized with a chill. They're taking captive Aes Sedai to the roof, tying ropes to them, then the raken are snatching those ropes and towing the women into the air. Light! He caught a glimpse of one of the captives being pulled away. It looked as if she had a sack tied over her head.
"We have to get into the Tower," Gawyn said. "This fight is just a distraction."
"Agreed," Bryne said, lowering the spyglass. He glanced to the side of the courtyard, where Siuan had said she'd wait while the men fought. Time to collect her and—