A Memory of Light (The Wheel of Time 14)
“Any failing on your part is forgotten,” Lan said, eyes forward. “I am proud to have given you your hadori.”
Kaisel rode up, nodding to Lan. “We are ready, Dai Shan.”
“This is for the best,” Andere said, grimacing, still holding to his wound, barely able to remain in the saddle.
“It is what must be,” Lan said. Not an argument. Not exactly.
“No,” Andere said. “It is more than that, Lan. Malkier is like a tree that lost its roots to whiteworms, the branches withering slowly. I’d rather be burned away in a flash.”
“I’d rather charge,” Bulen said, voice growing firm. “I’d rather charge now than let them overrun us. Let us die on the attack, with swords pointed home.”
Lan nodded, turning and raising his sword high above his head. He gave no speeches. He had given those already. The men knew what this was. One more charge, while they still had some strength, would mean something. Fewer Shadowspawn to flood into civilized lands. Fewer Trollocs to kill those who could not fight back.
The enemy seemed endless. A slavering, rampaging horde without battle line or discipline. Anger, destruction incarnate. Thousands upon thousands of them. They came forward like floodwaters suddenly released, surging out of the canyon.
Lan’s little force was but a pebble before them.
The men silently raised their swords to him, a final salute.
“Now!” Lan yelled. Now as they begin to spread out. It will do the most damage. Lan kicked Mandarb forward, leading the way. Andere galloped beside Lan, clinging to his pommel with both hands. He didn
’t try to raise a weapon; he’d have fallen from his saddle if he had.
Nynaeve was too far away for Lan to feel much of her through the bond, but sometimes very powerful emotions could stand out despite the distance. He tried to project confidence in case it reached her. Pride in his men. Love for her. He wished deeply for those to be the last things she remembered of him.
My arm will be the sword…
Hooves clattered on the ground. The Trollocs ahead hooted in delight, realizing that their prey had transformed a retreat into a charge of men rushing right into their grasp.
My breast itself a shield…
Lan could hear a voice, his father’s voice, speaking these words. That was foolish, of course. Lan had been a baby when Malkier had fallen.
To defend the Seven Towers…
He had never seen the Seven Towers stand against the Blight. He’d only heard stories.
To hold back the darkness…
The horses’ hooves were becoming a thunder. So loud, louder than he’d have thought possible. He held himself straight, sword out.
I will stand when all others fall.
The oncoming Trollocs leveled spears as the distance between the two opposing forces narrowed.
Al Chalidholara Malkier. For my sweet land Malkier.
It was the oath a Malkieri soldier took during their first posting to the Border. Lan had never spoken it.
He did so now in his heart.
“Al Chalidholara Malkier!” Lan screamed. “Lances, set!” Light, but those hoofbeats were loud! Could six thousand make so much noise? He turned to look at those behind him.
At least ten thousand rode there.
What?
He pressed Mandarb forward through his surprise.