“I think that the forest has done us the good it can,” Bashere said, moving some Trolloc tokens on their maps. “We have whittled down their numbers, but they’re getting smart, keeping to the thick woods and trying to surround us.”

“Suggestions?”

“Pull back,” Bashere said. “Head out to the east of here.”

“Make for the Erinin? There’s no bridge this far north,” Talmanes said.

Bashere nodded. “So you know what I’m going to ask. You have a company of men who can build bridges. Send them with some of your dragons for protection and have them build raft bridges directly east of us. The rest of us won’t be far behind. The open terrain there will give our cavalry and the dragons the chance to do more damage. We can rely on the Erinin to slow the Trollocs, especially once we torch the bridges. A few dragons placed there should slow their progress. We’ll continue east to the Alguenya, and repeat the process. Then we’ll be on the road to Cairhien. We’ll head north and when we find a suitable place to make a stand—I think I know just the spot—we’ll turn and face the Shadow with Cairhien at our backs.”

“Surely you don’t think we’ll need to go all that way,” Elayne said.

Bashere stared at the map, squinting, as if seeing through the parchment itself to the land it depicted. “We’re stirring this battle,” he said softly, “but we don’t control it. We’re riding it, as a man might ride a stampeding horse. I can’t say where the gallop will stop. I’ll divert it, I’ll send it through patches of thorns. But I can’t stop it, not so long as the Trollocs keep coming.”

Elayne frowned. She couldn’t afford an endless retreat; she needed to defeat these Shadowspawn as soon and as thoroughly as possible so she could join the remainder of her forces to Lan’s and Egwene’s armies to beat back the invasions from the north.

That was the only way they’d win. Otherwise, it wouldn’t matter what Rand was able to do against the Dark One.

Light, what a mess.

“Do it.”

Perrin rested his hammer on his shoulder, listening as the sweating young messenger relayed Elayne’s orders. A gentle breeze blew through the branches of the forest behind. The Ogier fought in there. He’d worried they would refuse to endanger the trees, but their fighting… Light, Perrin had never seen savagery to rival it.

“These tactics aren’t bad,” Tam said reading the orders. “The Queen has a good head for warfare.”

Perrin waved away the messenger boy. He passed Galad and several of his Whitecloak commanders, conferring nearby. “She listens well to those who know their tactics,” Perrin said, “and she doesn’t interfere.”

“That’s what I meant, lad,” Tam said with a smile. “Being in charge isn’t always about telling people what to do. Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to step out of the way of people who know what they’re doing.”

“Wise words, Tam,” Perrin said, turning northward. “I suggest you adopt them, as you have command now.”

Perrin could see Rand. The colors swam. Rand, speaking with Moiraine on a bleak rocky ridge he did not recognize. They were almost ready for the invasion of Shayol Ghul. Perrin felt a tug from Rand, growing stronger. Soon, Rand would need him.

“Perrin?” Tam asked. “What’s this nonsense about command?”

“You have our forces, Tam,” Perrin said. “The men are working together now; let Arganda, Gallenne and Galad assist you.” Nearby, Grady held open a gateway through which the wounded from the most recent skirmish were being sent for Healing. Berelain ran the hospital on the other side, which the Yellow Ajah had placed in Mayene. The air coming from the other side was warm.

“I don’t know if they’ll listen to me, Perrin,” Tam said. “I’m just a common farmer.”

“They listened to you well enough before.”

“That was when we were traveling the wilderness,” Tam said. “You were always nearby. They answered to me on your authority.” He rubbed his chin. “I have a feeling, from the way you keep looking north, that you don’t intend to be here much longer.”

“Rand needs me,” Perrin said softly. “Burn me, Tam, I hate it—but I can’t fight along with you here in Andor. Someone needs to watch Rand’s back, and it… well, it’s going to be me. I know it, somehow.”

Tam nodded. “We’ll just go to Arganda or Gallenne, and tell them they’re in charge of our men. Queen Elayne is giving most of the orders anyway, and—”

“Men!” Perrin yelled, looking toward the assembled soldiers. Arganda was consulting with Gallenne. They turned to Perrin, as did the nearby members of the Wolf Guard, along with Galad and his Whitecloaks. Young Bornhald regarded Perrin through dark eyes. That one grew more and more unpredictable lately. The Light send Galad had been able to keep him from the brandy.

“You all accept my authority, as granted by the crown of Andor?” Perrin asked.

“Of course, Lord Goldeneyes,” Arganda called. “I thought that was established.”

“I’m hereby making Tam al’Thor a lord,” Perrin called. “I am making him steward over the Two Rivers in the name of his son, the Dragon Reborn. He carries all of my authority, which is the Dragon’s own authority. If I do not survive this battle, Tam succeeds me.”

The camp grew still, then the men nodded, several saluting Tam. Tam groaned so softly, Perrin doubted anyone else could hear.

“Is it too late to turn you over to the Women’s Circle for a good talking-to?” Tam asked. “Maybe a sound swat on the behind and a week spent carrying water for Widow al’Thone?”

“Sorry, Tam,” Perrin said. “Neald, try making a gateway to the Black Tower.”

The young Asha’man adopted a look of concentration. “It still doesn’t work, Lord Goldeneyes.”

Perrin shook his head. He’d heard the reports from Lan’s battlefront, that members of the Black Tower were fighting for the Shadow. Something had happened there, something terrible. “All right, back to Merrilor, then,” Perrin said.

Neald nodded, concentrating.

As he worked, Perrin turned to the men. “I hate to leave you, but I have these hooks in me, pulling me north. I have to go to Rand, and there’s just no arguing with it. I’ll try to come back. If I can’t… well, I want you all to know that I’m proud of you. All of you. You’re welcome in my home when this is over. We’ll open a cask or two of Master al’Vere’s best brandy. We’ll remember those who fell, and we’ll tell our children how we stood when the clouds turned black and the world started to die. We’ll tell them we stood shoulder to shoulder, and there was just no space for the Shadow to squeeze through.”

He raised Mah’alleinir toward them, and he bore their cheering. Not because he deserved it, but because they certainly did.

Neald opened the gateway. Perrin started toward it, then hesitated as his name was called. He frowned, looking at Dain Bornhald as the man hurried over.

Perrin rested his hand on his hammer, wary. This man had saved his life against the Trollocs, and against a fellow Whitecloak, but Perrin saw the dislike the man had for him. He might not blame Perrin for the death of his father, but that didn’t mean he liked—or even accepted—Perrin.

“A word, Aybara,” Bornhald said, looking toward Gaul standing nearby. “In private.”

Perrin waved Gaul away, and the Aiel reluctantly retreated. He stepped with Bornhald away from the open gateway. “What is this about? If it’s because of your father—”

“Light, just be quiet,” Bornhald said, glancing away. “I don’t want to say this. I hate saying this. But you need to know. Light burn me, you need to know.”

“Know what?”

“Aybara,” Bornhald said, taking a deep breath. “It wasn’t Trollocs who killed your family.”

A shock went through Perrin’s body.

“I’m sorry,” Bornhald said, looking away. “It was Ordeith. Your father insulted him. He tore apart the family, and we blamed the Trollocs. I didn’t kill them, but I didn’t say anything. So much blood…�

�

“What?” Perrin grabbed the Whitecloak by the shoulder. “But they said… I mean…” Light, he’d dealt with this already!

The look in Bornhald’s eyes when his met Perrin’s dredged it all up again. The pain, the horror, the loss, the fury. Bornhald reached up and took Perrin’s wrist, then yanked it free of his shoulder.

“This is an awful time to tell you this, I know,” Bornhald said. “But I couldn’t keep it in. I just… We may fall. Light, it might all fall. I had to speak, say it.”

He pulled away, moving back toward the other Whitecloaks with eyes downcast. Perrin stood alone, his entire world shaking.

Then he pulled it back together. He had dealt with this; he had mourned his family. It was over, through.

He could and would go on. Light, the old hurts returned, but he shoved them down and turned his eyes toward the gateway. Toward Rand, and his duty.

He had work to do. But Ordeith… Padan Fain… This only added to that man’s terrible crimes. Perrin would see that he paid, one way or another.

He approached the gateway to Travel to find Rand, where he was joined by Gaul.

“I’m going to a place you cannot, my friend,” Perrin said softly, his pain subsiding. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll go to the dream within a dream,” Gaul said, then yawned. “Turns out I’m tired.”

“But—”

“I’m coming, Perrin Aybara. Kill me if you wish me to remain behind.” Perrin didn’t dare push him on it. He nodded.

Perrin glanced behind him, raising his hammer once more. As he did so, he caught a glimpse through the other gateway, the one to Mayene that Grady still held open. Inside, two white-robed forms watched Gaul. He raised a spear to them. How must it feel, for a pair of warriors to wait out this, the Last Battle? Perhaps Rand should have tried to have the gai’shain released from their vows for a few weeks.

Well, that would probably have turned every single Aiel against him. Light protect the wetlander who dared tamper with ji’e’toh.

Perrin ducked through the gateway, stepping onto the ground of Merrilor. From there, he and Gaul packed as if for a long trip—foodstuffs and water aplenty, as much as they dared carry.

It took Perrin the better part of a half hour to convince Rand’s Asha’man to tell him where their leader had gone. Finally, a grudging Naeff opened a gateway for Perrin. He left Merrilor, and stepped out into what seemed to be the Blight. Only the rocks were cold.

The air smelled of death, of desolation. The fetor took Perrin aback, and it was minutes before he could sort out normal scents from the stench. Rand stood just ahead, at the edge of a ridge, arms folded behind his back. A group of his advisors, commanders and guards stood behind, including Moiraine, Aviendha and Cadsuane. At this moment, though, Rand stood alone at the end of the ridge.

Distant, in front of them, rose the peak of Shayol Ghul. Perrin felt a shiver. It was distant, but Perrin could not mistake the intense determination in Rand’s expression as he regarded the peak.

“Light,” Perrin said. “Is it time?”

“No,” Rand said softly. “This is a test, to see if he senses me.”

“Perrin?” Nynaeve asked from the hillside behind. She had been speaking with Moiraine and for once, she didn’t smell a twinge hateful. Something had happened between those two women.

“I only need him for a moment,” Perrin said, walking up to join Rand at the end of the outcropping of rock. There were some Aiel back there, and Perrin didn’t want them—particularly any Wise Ones—to hear what he was going to ask Rand.

“You have this moment and many, Perrin,” Rand said. “I owe you dearly. What is it you want?”

“Well…” Perrin looked over his shoulder. Would Moiraine or Nynaeve know enough to try to stop him? Probably. Women were always trying to keep a man from doing what he must, as if worried he’d break his neck. Never mind that it was the Last Battle.

“Perrin?” Rand asked.

“Rand, I need to enter the wolf dream.”

“Tel’aran’rhiod?” Rand said. “Perrin, I don’t know what you do there; you’ve told me little. I figured that you would know how to—”

“I know how to enter it one way,” Perrin said, whispering so that the Wise Ones and the others behind couldn’t hear. “The easy way. I need something else. You know things, you remember things. Is there anything in that ancient brain of yours that remembers how to enter into the World of Dreams in the flesh?”

Rand grew solemn. “It’s a dangerous thing you ask.”

“As dangerous as going to do what you’re about to do?”

“Perhaps.” Rand frowned. “If I’d known back when I… Well, let’s just say that some would call your request very, very evil.”

“It’s not evil, Rand,” Perrin said. “I know something evil when I smell it. This isn’t evil, it’s just incredibly stupid.”

Rand smiled. “And still you ask?”

“The good options are gone, Rand. Better to do something desperate than to do nothing at all.”

Rand didn’t reply.

“Look,” Perrin said. “We’ve spoken of the Black Tower. I know you’re worried about it.”

“I will need to go there,” Rand said, expression darkening. “And yet, it’s obviously a trap.”

“I think I know part of what is to blame,” Perrin said. “There’s someone I need to face, and I can’t beat him without being able to face him on equal terms. There, in the dream.”

Rand nodded slowly. “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. We will have to leave the Blasted Lands; you cannot enter the dream from…”

He trailed off, then did something, crafting a weave. A gateway opened beside him. Something about it was different from ordinary ones.

“I see,” Rand said. “The worlds are drawing together, compressing. What was once separate is no longer so. This gateway will take you into the dream. Take care, Perrin. If you die in that place while in the flesh, it can have… ramifications. What you face could be worse than death itself, particularly now. At this time.”

“I know,” Perrin said. “I will need a way out. Can you have one of your Asha’man make one of these gateways once a day, at dawn? Say, at the Traveling grounds of Merrilor?”

“Dangerous,” Rand whispered. “But I will do it.”

Perrin nodded in thanks. “The Light willing, we will see one another again,” Rand said. He held out his hand to Perrin. “Watch out for Mat. I’m honestly not sure what he’s going to do, but I have a feeling it will be highly dangerous for all involved.”

“Not like us,” Perrin said, clasping Rand’s forearm. “You and I, we’re much better at keeping to the safe paths.”

Rand smiled. “May the Light shelter you, Perrin Aybara.”

“And you, Rand al’Thor.” Perrin hesitated, and realized what was happening. They were saying goodbye. He took Rand in an embrace.

“You take care of him, you two,” Perrin said, looking toward Nynaeve and Moiraine as he pulled back from the embrace. “You hear me?”

“Oh, now you want me to watch after Rand?” Nynaeve said, hands on hips. “I don’t believe I ever stopped, Perrin Aybara. Don’t think I didn’t hear you two whispering over there. You’re doing something foolish, aren’t you?”

“Always,” Perrin said, raising a hand in farewell to Thom. “Gaul, you certain you want to do this?”

“I am,” the Aielman said, loosening his spears and looking through Rand’s gateway.

Without another word, the two hefted their heavy packs and stepped into the World of Dreams.

CHAPTER

14

Doses of Forkroot

Light…” Perrin whispered to Gaul, looking across the landscape. “It’s dying.”

The boiling, thrashing, churning black sky of the wolf dream was nothing new, but the storm that the sky had been foreshadowing for months had finally arrived. Wind blew in enormous gusts, moving this way, then that, in unnatural patterns. Per

rin closed his cloak, then strengthened it with a thought, imagining the ties holding it to be fixed strongly in place. A little bubble of calmness extended out from him, deflecting the worst of the winds. It was easier than he anticipated, as if he’d reached for a heavy piece of oak and found it as light as pine.

The landscape seemed less real than it usually did. The raging winds actually smoothed out hills, like erosion at high speed. In other places, the land swelled up, forming ripples of rock and new hillsides. Chunks of earth sprayed into the air, shattering. The land itself was coming apart.

He grabbed Gaul’s shoulder and shifted the two of them away from the place. It was too close to Rand, Perrin suspected. Indeed, as they appeared on the familiar plain to the south—the place where he’d hunted with Hopper—they found the storm less powerful.

They stowed their heavy packs, laden with food and water, in a thicket of bushes. Perrin didn’t know if they could survive on food or water found in the dream, but he didn’t want to have to find out. They should have enough here for a week or so, and as long as they had a gateway waiting for them, he felt comfortable—or, at least, satisfied—with the risks he was taking here.

The landscape here wasn’t coming apart in the same way as it had been near Shayol Ghul. However, if he watched a section long enough, he could catch bits of… well, everything being pulled up in the winds. Stalks of dead grain, fragments of tree trunks, gobs of mud and slivers of rock—all were slowly being pulled toward those gluttonous black clouds. After the way of the wolf dream, when he looked back, things that had been broken apart would often be whole again. He understood. This place was being consumed, slowly, as was the waking world. Here, it was simply easier to see.

The winds whipped at them, but weren’t so strong that he had to keep them at bay. They felt like the winds at the beginning of a storm, right before the rain and lightning. The heralds of oncoming destruction.

Gaul had pulled the shoufa over his face, and looked about suspiciously. His clothing had changed in shade to match the grasses.