The man caught it in the air. He prowled forward in a crouch, bestial, smiling at her.
Then he jerked, suddenly, and fell over, thrashing. A trickle of blood came from his lips.
“That,” a woman said nearby, a sound of utter distaste in her tone, “is something I’m not supposed to know how to do, but stopping someone’s heart with the One Power is quiet. It requires very little Power, surprisingly, which is pertinent to me.”
“Siuan!” Min said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Lucky for you I am,” Siuan said with a snort, inspecting the body, staying low. “Bah. Nasty business that, but if you’re going to eat a fish, you should be willing to gut it yourself. What’s wrong, girl? You’re safe now. No need to look so pale.”
“You’re not supposed to be here!” Min said. “I told you. Stay near Gareth Bryne!”
“I did stay near him, almost near as his own smallclothes, I’ll have you know. We saved one another’s lives because of it, so I guess the viewing was right. Are they ever wrong?”
“No, I’ve told you that,” Min whispered. “Never. Siuan . . . I saw an aura around Bryne that meant you had to stay together, or the two of you would die. It hangs above you, right now. Whatever you think you did, the viewing has not been accomplished yet. It’s still there”
Siuan stood frozen for a moment. “Cauthon is in danger.”
“But—”
“I don’t care, girl!” Nearby, the ground trembled with the force of the One Power. The damane were fighting back. “If Cauthon falls, this battle is lost! I don’t care if we both die from this. We must help. Move!”
Min nodded, then joined her as she moved around the side of the ragged building. The firefight outside was a raw mix of explosions, smoke and flames. Members of the Deathwatch Guard charged the Sharans, swords out, heedless of their companions being slaughtered around them. That, at least, was keeping the channelers busy.
The command post burned with such heat that Min had to shy back, raising an arm.
“Hold on,” Siuan said, then used the One Power to draw a small column of water out of a nearby barrel, spraying them both. “I’ll try to dampen the flames,” she said, redirecting the small column of water to the command post. “All right. Lets go.”
Min nodded, bursting through the flames, Siuan joining her. The tenmi walls inside had all started aflame, burning away quickly. Fire dripped from the ceiling.
“There,” Min said, blinking away tears from the heat and the smoke. She pointed toward dark figures struggling near the center of the building and Mat’s blazing map table. There seemed to be a group of three or four people fighting Mat. Light, they were all Gray Men—not just one of them! Tuon was down.
Min ran past the corpse of a sul’dam alongside several guards. Siuan used the One Power to haul one of the Gray Men away from Mat. Guards’ corpses created shadows of firelight on the floor. One damane still lived, huddled in a corner, looking terrified, her leash on the floor. Her sul’dam lay a distance away, unmoving. Her grip had been knocked free, it appeared, and then she was killed as she tried to get back to her damane.
“Do something!” Min shouted at the girl, grabbing her by the arm.
The damane shook her head, crying.
“Burn you—” Min said.
The ceiling of the structure groaned. Min ran for Mat. One Gray Man was dead, but there were two others, wearing the uniforms of Seanchan guards. Min had trouble seeing the living ones; they were inhumanly average in every way. Utterly nondescript.
Mat bellowed, knifing one of the men, but he didn’t have his spear. Min didn’t know where it was. Mat pushed forward, reckless, taking a gash along his side. Why?
Tuon, Min realized, stumbling to a halt. One of the Gray Men knelt above her motionless form, raising a dagger, and—
Min threw.
Mat toppled to the ground a few feet from Tuon; the final Gray Man had him by the legs. Min’s knife spun through the air, reflecting flames, and took the Gray Man over Tuon in the chest.
Min breathed out. Never in her life had she been so happy to see a knife fly true. Mat had cursed, turning about, booting his aggressor in the face. He followed that with a knife, then scrambled for Tuon, hauling her up onto his shoulder.
Min met him. “Siuan is here, too. She—”
Mat pointed. Siuan lay on the floor of the building. Her eyes stared sightlessly, and all the images were gone from above her.
Dead. Min froze, heart wrenching. Siuan! She moved toward the woman anyway, unable to believe she was dead, though her clothing burned from the explosion of fire that had taken her and about half of the wall nearby her.
“Out!” Mat said, coughing, cradling Tuon. He threw his shoulder against a wall that was only half-burned, breaking out into the air.
Min groaned, leaving Siuan’s corpse, blinking away tears both from grief and from the smoke. She coughed as she followed Mat out into open air. The outside smelled so sweet, so cold. Behind them, the building groaned, then collapsed.
In moments, Min and Mat were surrounded by members of the Death-watch Guard. Not a one tried to take Tuon—who was still breathing, if shallowly—away from Mat. From the look in his eye, Min doubted they’d have been able to do so.
Farewell, Siuan, Min thought, looking back as Guards ushered her away from the fighting below Dashar Knob. May the Creator shelter your soul.
She would send word to others to protect Bryne, but she knew—deep down—it would be futile. He would have gone into a vengeful rage the moment Siuan died, and discounting that, there was the viewing.
She was never wrong. Sometimes, Min hated her accuracy. But she was never wrong.
“Strike at their weaves,” Egwene yelled. “I’ll attack!”
She didn’t wait to see if she was obeyed. She struck, holding as much power as she could, drawing it through Vora’s sa’angreal and heaving three different bands of fire upslope at the entrenched Sharans.
Around her, Bryne’s well-trained troops struggled to maintain battle lines as they fought Sharan soldiers, working their way up the western side of the Heights. The hillside was pocked with hundreds of furrows and holes, created by weaves from one side or the other.
Egwene fought forward desperately. She could feel Gawyn above, but she thought he was unconscious; his spark of life was so faint that she could barely sense his direction. Her only hope was to fight through the Sharans and reach him.
The ground rumbled as she vaporized a Sharan woman above; Saerin, Doesine and other sisters concentrated on deflecting the enemy weaves, while Egwene focused on sending attacks. She stepped forward. One step after another.
I'm coming, Gawyn, she thought, growing frantic. I’m coming.
“We come to report, Wyld.”
Demandred ignored the messengers for the moment. He flew upon the wings of a falcon, inspecting the battle through the birds eyes. Ravens were better, but each time he tried using one of those, one Borderlander or another shot it down. Of all the customs to remember through the Ages, why did it have to be that one?
No matter. A falcon would work, even if the bird did resist his control. He guided it about the battlefield, inspecting formations, deployments, advancements of troops. He did not have to rely upon the reports of others.
It should have been an almost insurmountable advantage. Lews Therin could not use such an animal; this was a gift only the True Power could grant. Demandred could channel only a thin trickle of the True Power—not enough for destructive weaves, but there were other ways to be dangerous. Unfortunately, Lews Therin had his own advantage. Gateways that looked down upon a battlefield? It was discomforting the things people of this time discovered, things that hadn’t been known during the Age of Legends.