“It’s not that, Mat.” Perrin stepped up, reaching and taking him by the arm as he sat mounted. “My wife, Mat. Please. She had the Horn.”
Mat looked down, feeling grim. “The lad said… Light, Perrin. Faile was at Merrilor, and led the Trollocs away from Olver so he could escape with the Horn.”
“Then she could still be alive,” Perrin said.
“Yes. Of course she could,” Mat said. What else could he say? “Perrin, you need to know something else. Fain is here on this battlefield.”
“Fain?” Perrin growled. “Where?”
“He’s in that mist! Perrin, he’s brought Mashadar, somehow. Don’t let it touch you.”
“I was in Shadar Logoth too, Mat,” Perrin said. “I have a debt to settle with Fain.”
“And I don’t?” Mat said. “I—”
Perrin’s eyes opened wide. He stared at Mat’s chest.
There, a small white ribbon of silvery mist—Mashadar’s mist—had speared Mat from behind through the chest. Mat looked at it, jerked once, then tumbled off his horse.
CHAPTER
47
Watching the Flow Writhe
Aviendha struggled on the slopes of the valley of Thakan’dar, trying to avoid the shield of Spirit Graendal was attempting to slip into place. A weave, like lace, defying her attempts to reach for the One Power. Her feet ruined, she could not stand. She lay, in pain, barely able to move.
She fought it off, but barely.
The Forsaken leaned against the rocks of the ledge, as she had been doing for a short time, muttering to herself. Her side bled bright red blood. Below them, in the valley, the battle raged. A si
lvery white mist was rolling across the dead and some of the living.
Aviendha tried to crawl toward her gateway. That lay open still, and through it she could see the valley floor. Something must have drawn Cadsuane and the others away—either that, or Aviendha had made the gateway to the wrong place.
The glow of saidar surrounded Graendal again. More weaves; Aviendha broke them, but they delayed her progress toward the gateway.
Graendal groaned, then pulled herself upright. She staggered in Aviendha’s direction, though the woman looked dazed by her blood loss.
Aviendha could do little to defend herself, weak as she was from blood loss. She was helpless.
Except…
The weave for her gateway, the one she had tied off. It still hung there, holding the portal open. Ribbons of lace.
Carefully, hesitant but desperate, Aviendha reached out mentally and pulled one of the threads loose in the gateway. She could do it. The flow shivered and vanished.
It was something the Aiel did, but something Aes Sedai thought terribly dangerous. The results could be unpredictable. An explosion, a small shower of sparks… Aviendha could end up stilled. Or maybe nothing at all would happen. When Elayne had tried it, it had caused a devastating explosion.
That would be fine with her. If she brought down one of the Forsaken alongside her, that would be a wonderful death.
She had to try.
Graendal stopped near Aviendha and grumbled to herself, eyes closed. Then the woman opened her eyes and began crafting another weave. Compulsion.
Aviendha picked faster, pulling two, three, half a dozen threads free of the gateway. Almost, almost…
“What are you doing?” Graendal demanded.