He closed his eyes as the call went up. It soon became a cheer. Then a roar.

Chapter 43

Some Tea

“And these Asha’man claim they are free of the taint?” Galad asked, as he and Perrin Aybara picked their way through the aftermath of the battle.

“They do,” Perrin said. “And I’ve a mind to trust them. Why would they lie?”

Galad raised an eyebrow. “Insanity?”

Perrin nodded at that. This Perrin Aybara was an interesting man. Others often responded with anger when Galad said what he thought, but he was coming to realize that he didn’t need to hold himself back with Perrin. This man responded well to honesty. If he was a Darkfriend or Shadowspawn, he was a very odd sort.

The horizon was starting to grow brighter. Light, had night already passed? Bodies littered the ground, most of them Trollocs. The stench was of burned flesh and fur, nauseating as it mixed with that of blood and mud. Galad felt exhausted.

He’d allowed an Aes Sedai to Heal him. “Once you’ve committed your reserves, there’s no use holding back your scouts,” Gareth Bryne was fond of saying. If he was going to let Aes Sedai save his men, then he might as well accept their Healing. Once, accepting Aes Sedai Healing hadn’t bothered him nearly so much.

“Perhaps,” Perrin said. “Perhaps the Asha’man are mad, and the taint isn’t cleansed. But they’ve served me well, and I figure they’ve earned the right to be trusted until they show me otherwise. You and your men might well owe your lives to Grady and Neald.”

“And they have my thanks,” Galad said, stepping over the hulking body of a Trolloc with a bear’s snout. “Though few of my men will express that emotion. They aren’t certain what to think of your intervention here, Aybara.”

“Still think I set them up somehow?”

“Perhaps,” Galad said. “Either you are a Darkfriend of unsurpassed cunning, or you really did as you said—coming to save my men despite your treatment at our hands. In that case, you are a man of honor. Letting us die would have made your life much easier, I believe.”

“No,” Perrin said. “Every sword is needed at the Last Battle, Galad. Every one.”

Galad grunted, kneeling beside a soldier with a red cloak and turning him over. It wasn’t a red cloak; it was a white one soaked in blood. Ranun Sinah would not see the Last Battle. Galad closed the young man’s eyes, breathing a prayer to the Light in his name.

“So what now for you and yours?” Perrin asked.

“We continue on,” Galad said, rising. “North, to my estates in Andor to prepare.”

“You could—” Perrin froze. Then he turned, trotting across the battlefield.

Galad hurried after him. Perrin reached a heap of Trollocs, then began pushing bodies aside. Galad heard a very faint sound. Moaning. He helped move a dead hawk-headed beast, its too-human eyes staring lifelessly.