The dying monster crashed down on him, pinning him to the ground. Pain shot up his leg, but he ignored it. He dropped his sword, trying to shove the carcass free. Bornhald, swearing, fended off a Trolloc that had the snout of a boar. It made a horrid grunting sound.

Galad heaved off the stinking carcass. To the side, he could see men in white—Trom, with Byar at his side, fighting desperately to reach Galad. There were so many Trollocs, and those Children immediately nearby had mostly fallen.

Galad reached for his sword just as a mounted figure burst through the shadows and Trollocs just to the north. Aybara. He rode up and pounded that massive hammer of his into a boar Trolloc, sending it crashing to the ground. Aybara leaped off his horse as Bornhald scrambled over to help Galad to his feet.

“You are wounded?” Aybara asked.

“My ankle,” Galad said.

“On my horse,” Aybara said.

Galad didn’t protest; it made sense. He did, however, feel embarrassed as Bornhald helped him up. Aybara’s men filled in around them, pushing the Trollocs back. Now that Aybara’s army had joined the fray, Galad’s men were rallying.

Rushing down the slope had been a dangerous gamble, but as soon as Galad was astride Aybara’s horse, he could see that the gamble had worked. The massive charge had broken the Trollocs apart, and some groups started fleeing. Tongues of flame fell from above, burning Myrddraal and dropping entire fists of Trollocs linked to them.

There was still a great deal of fighting to do, but the tide was turning. Aybara’s forces carved out a section around their leader, giving him—and by extension Galad—some breathing room to consider the next stage of the attack.

Galad turned to Aybara, who was studying the Trollocs with keen eyes. “I assume you think that saving me will influence my decision about your judgment,” Galad said.

“It had better,” Aybara muttered.

Galad raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. “My men find it suspicious that you appeared so soon before the Trollocs.”

“Well, they can think that if they want,” Aybara said. “I doubt anything I say will change their minds. In a way, this is my fault. The Trollocs were here to kill me; I just got away before they could spring their trap. Be glad I didn’t leave you to them. You Whitecloaks have caused me nearly as much grief as they have.”

Oddly, Galad found himself smiling. There was a straightforward air about this Perrin Aybara. A man could ask for little more in an ally.

Are we allies, then? Galad thought, nodding to Trom and Byar as they approached. Perhaps for now. He did trust Aybara. Yes, perhaps there were men in the world who would put together an intricate plot like this one, all to trick his way into Galad’s favor. Valda had been like that.

Aybara wasn’t. He really was straightforward. If he’d wanted the Children out of his way, he’d have killed them and moved on.