The Gathering Storm - Robert Jordan

"A pity," Saerin said. "They like to call themselves the Battle Ajah, after all. Well, that leaves me to organize the fighting."

Moradri shrugged. "I suppose." She glanced over her shoulder again.

Saerin eyed the Green sister, then tapped the map. "Mark the locations, Moradri. You can be back to the fighting soon enough, but your knowledge is more important right now."

The Green sister sighed, but quickly began to make notations on the map. As she worked, Saerin was pleased to note Captain Chubain entering. The man looked youthful for his forty-some winters, without a speck of gray in his black hair. Some men were inclined to disparage his abilities because of his too-pretty face; Saerin had heard of the humiliation those men had received by his sword in return for the insults.

"Ah, good," she said. "Finally something is going well. Captain, over here if you will."

He limped over, favoring his left leg. His white tabard, hanging over mail, was scorched; his face was smudged with soot. "Saerin Sedai," he said, bowing.

"You are wounded."

"An inconsequential wound, Aes Sedai, in the glory of a fight such as this."

"See yourself Healed anyway," she ordered. "It would be ridiculous for our captain of the guard to risk death because of an 'inconsequential' wound. If it makes you stumble for a moment we could lose you."

The man stepped closer, speaking in a low voice. "Saerin Sedai, the Tower Guard is all but useless in this fight. With the Seanchan using those . . . monstrous women, we can barely reach them before being ripped to pieces or blasted to ashes."

"You need to change your tactics, then, Captain," Saerin said firmly. Light, what a mess! "Tell the men to switch to bows. Do not risk closing on the enemy's channelers. Shoot from a distance. A single arrow could turn the battle to our side; we have their soldiers grossly outnumbered."

"Yes, Aes Sedai."

"As a White might say, it's simple logic," she said. "Captain, our most important task is to form a center of operations. Aes Sedai and soldiers alike are scrambling about independently, acting like rats faced by wolves. We need to stand together."

What she didn't mention was how embarrassed she was. The Aes Sedai had spent centuries guiding kings and influencing wars, but now—with their sanctuary assaulted—they had proven woefully inadequate in defending it. Egwene was right, she thought. Not just in predicting this attack, but in berating us for being divided. Saerin didn't need reports from Moradri or scouts to know that the Ajahs were each fighting this battle independently.

"Captain," she said. "Moradri Sedai is marking pockets of fighters on the map. Ask her which Ajah is represented in each group; she has an excellent memory, and will be able to tell you specifics. Send runners in my authority to any group of Yellow or Brown sisters. Tell them to report here, to this chamber.

"Next, send runners to the other groups and tell them that we are going to send one Brown or Yellow sister to them for Healing purposes. There will also be a group of sisters here providing Healing. Anyone wounded is to report here immediately."

He saluted.

"Oh," she added. "And send someone to the outer grounds to spot the main breaches above. We need to know where the invasion is deepest."

"Aes Sedai, . . ." he said. "The outer grounds are dangerous. Those flying above fire on anyone they see moving."

"Then send men who are good at concealing themselves," she growled.

"Yes, Aes Sedai. We—"

"This is a disaster!" an angry voice shouted.

Saerin turned to find four Red sisters entering the room. Notasha was wearing a white dress bloodied up the left side, though if the blood was her own, she'd been Healed. Katerine's mass of long black hair was frazzled and tangled with chips of stone. The other two women wore ripped dresses, faces soiled with ash.

"How dare they strike here!" Katerine continued, crossing the room. Soldiers ducked out of her way, and several less-influential sisters who had gathered at Saerin's order suddenly found things to do at the corners of the room. Distant booms sounded, like the noises of an Illuminator's display.

"They dare because they have the means and the desire, obviously," Saerin replied, shoving down her annoyance and maintaining her calm. With difficulty. "So far, the strike has proven remarkably effective."

"Well, I'm assuming command here," Katerine growled. "We need to scour the Tower and eliminate each of them!"

"You will not take command," Saerin said firmly. Insufferable woman! Calm, remain calm. "Nor will we go on the offensive."

"And you will dare stop me?" Katerine snarled, the glow of saidar a burning light around her. "A Brown?"

Saerin raised an eyebrow. "Since when did the Mistress of Novices outrank a Sitter in the Hall, Katerine?"

"Egwene al'Vere predicted this," Saerin said, grimacing. "We can assume, therefore, that the other things she told us about the Seanchan are true. The Seanchan seize women who can channel and use them as weapons. They have brought no ground force; it would be near impossible to march them this far through hostile territory anyway. That means this is a raid, intended to seize as many sisters as possible.

"The battle has already stretched long for a raid, perhaps because we've done such a poor job of resisting that they feel they can take their time. Either way, we need to form a unified front and hold our ground. Once the battle goes more roughly for them, they will withdraw. We are in no position whatsoever to 'scour the Tower' and force them out."

Katerine hesitated, considering that. Another boom sounded outside.

"Where do those keep coming from?" Saerin asked in annoyance. "Haven't they made enough holes?"

"That wasn't directed at the Tower, Saerin Sedai!" called one of the soldiers at the room's doorway, standing just outside in the garden.

He's right, Saerin realized. The Tower didn't shake. It didn't the time before, either. "What are they firing on? People down below?"

"No, Aes Sedai!" the guard said. "I think it was a blast thrown from within the Tower, launched from one of the upper floors out at the flying creatures."

"Well, at least someone else is fighting back," Saerin said. "Where was it launched from?"

"I didn't see," the soldier said, still watching the skies. "Light, there it goes again! And again!" Red and yellow reflected from the smoke above, bathing the garden in light barely visible through the door and windows. Raken screamed in pain.

"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.