"I need to leave, Perrin," Elyas said. "Tonight, if I can."
"I know. The Last Hunt has begun. Go with them, Elyas. We will meet in the north."
The aging Warder laid a hand on Perrin's shoulder. "If we don't see one anothet thete, perhaps we'll meet in the dream, my friend."
"This is the dream," Perrin said, smiling. "And we will meet again. I will find you, if you are with the wolves. Hunt well, Long Tooth."
"Hunt well, Young Bull."
Elyas vanished into the darkness with barely a rustle.
Perrin reached down to the warm hammer at his side. He had thought that responsibility would be another weight upon him. And yet, now that he had accepted it, he actually felt lighter.
Perrin Aybara was just a man, but Perrin Goldeneyes was a symbol created by the people who followed him. Perrin didn't have a choice about that; all he could do was lead the best he could. If he didn't, the symbol wouldn't vanish. The people would just lose faith in it. As poor Aram had.
I'm sorry, my friend, he thought. You I failed most of all. There was no point in looking backward at that. He would simply have to continue forward and do better. "I'm Perrin Goldeneyes," he said, "the man who can speak to wolves. And I guess that's a good petson to be."
He kicked Stepper through the gateway. Unfortunately, Perrin Goldeneyes had some killing to do tonight.
Galad awoke as soon as his tent flap rustled. He drove away the vestiges of his dream a silly thing, of him dining with a dark-haired beauty with perfect lips and cunning eyes and reached for his sword.
"Galad!" a voice hissed. It was Trom.
"What's wrong?" Galad asked, hand still on his sword.
"You were right," Trom said.
"About what?"
"Aybara's army is back. Galad, they're on the heights just above us! We only caught sight of them by accident; our men were watching along the road, as you told us."
Galad cursed, sat up and reached for his smallclothes. "How did they get up there without us seeing?"
"Dark powers, Galad. Byar was right. You saw how fast their camp emptied."
Their scouts had returned an hour before. They'd found Aybara's campsite eerily empty, as if it had been populated by ghosts. Nobody had seen them leave along the road.
Now this. Galad dressed quickly. "Rouse the men. See if you can do it quietly. You were wise to bring no light; that might have alerted the enemy. Have the men put on their armor inside their tents."
"Yes, my Lord Captain Commander," Trom said. A rustling accompanied his departure.
G
alad hurried to dress. What have I done? Every step of the way, he'd been confident in his choices, yet this was where they had led him. Aybara, positioned to attack, Galad's men asleep. Ever since Morgase had returned, Galad had felt his world crumbling. What was right was no longer clear to him, not as it had once been. The way ahead seemed clouded.
We should surrender, he thought, affixing his cloak in place over his mail. But no. Children of the Light never give in to Darkfriends. How could I think that?
They had to die fighting. But what would that accomplish? The end of the Children, dead before the Last Battle began?
His tent flaps rustled again, and he had his sword out, ready to strike.
"Galad," Byar said. "You've killed us." All respect was gone from his voice.
The accusation set Galad on edge. "Those who walk in the Light must take no responsibility for the actions of those who follow the Shadow." A quote from Lothair Mantelar. "I have acted with honor."
"You should have attacked instead of going through that ridiculous 'trial' "
"We would have been slaughtered. He had Aes Sedai, Aiel, men who can channel, more soldiers than us, and powers we don't understand." "The Light would have protected us!"