Page 216 of A Memory of Light (The Wheel of Time 14)

No wonder I had trouble spotting him, Egwene thought, destroying the creature with a weave of Fire. The Halfman writhed, shaking and screeching in the fire, its eyeless face turned toward the heavens. The fist of Trollocs dropped as well.

Egwene smiled in satisfaction, but her pleasure was short lived. Her archers were getting low on arrows, the pike ranks were tattered and some of the Aes Sedai were clearly fatigued. Another wave of Trollocs replaced those that Egwene had dropped. Will we be able to stand another day of this? she thought.

A banner of lancers suddenly broke from the left flank of Bryne’s army fighting at the river. They flew the Flame of Tar Valon—that would be the unit of heavy cavalry that Bryne was proud of. He had cobbled them together under Captain Joni Shagrin out of a mix of seasoned veterans from the cavalries of other countries and those soldiers from the Tower Guard who wanted to join this elite fighting force.

The lancers skirted the Sharans opposite them and rode furiously toward Egwene’s hills, directly at the rear of the Trolloc army that was assaulting her position. Right behind them, a second cavalry unit followed in the dust of the first, this one displaying the dark green banner of Illian. It looked like the general was finally going to send her some relief.

But… Wait. Egwene frowned. From her vantage, she could see that the main army’s left flank was completely unprotected now. What is he doing? Some… some sort of trap for the Sharans?

If there had been a trap planned, the jaws did not snap shut. Instead, a Sharan cavalry unit charged into Bryne’s exposed left flank and began to inflict heavy casualties on the foot soldiers defending that position at the river. And then Egwene saw another movement on the field below that really horrified her—an even larger Sharan cavalry banner had broken off the enemy’s right flank and was bearing down on the lancer unit that had come to help Egwene.

“Gawyn, get word to those lancers—it’s a trap!”

But there was no time to do anything. Within moments, the Sharan cavalry had begun slaying the White Tower lancers from behind. At the same time, the back ranks of Trollocs had turned around to face the lancer charge. Egwene could see that these Trollocs all carried long polearms that ripped through the flesh of man and horse. The front ranks of lancers went down in a bloody heap, and the Trollocs waded between the bodies to pull down and thrust their weapons through the cavalrymen behind.

Egwene shouted, drawing what Power she could and trying to destroy that Trolloc force—and the other women joined her. It was a massacre on both sides. There were just too many Trollocs, and the lancers were unprotected. In minutes, it was over. Only a few cavalrymen had managed to survive, and Egwene saw them riding at full bore toward the river.

It shook her. At times, the armies seemed to move at the turgid pace of enormous ships at dock—and then, in an instant, everything would burst and entire banners would have perished.

She looked away from the corpses below. The Aes Sedai positions on the hilltops had been compromised. As the Trollocs returned their attention toward her force, Egwene gave orders for gateways. She had the pikemen withdraw uphill through the gateways as her archers continued to shoot projectiles into the Trollocs below. Then, Egwene and the remaining Aes Sedai rained destruction down on the Trollocs long enough to get the archers through the gateways.

Before disappearing through the last gateway on her hill, Egwene gave a final look at the battlefield. What had just happened? She shook her head as Gawyn stepped up to her side, faithful as always. He hadn’t had an opportunity to draw his sword this battle. Neither had Leilwin; the two seemed to be having a little silent competition as to who could act as the better guard, remaining right by Egwene’s side. She’d have found it annoying, but it was better than Gawyn’s sullen regret in previous battle engagements.

He was looking pale, though. As if at the start of a sickness. Had he been getting enough sleep?

“I want to go to the camp and find General Bryne,” Egwene said. “I want to know why this was allowed to happen. And then I will go to our troops defending the ford, and avenge our people who just lost their lives here.”

They both gave her frowns.

“Egwene…” Gawyn said.

“I have strength yet,” Egwene said. “I have been using the sa’angreal to keep from having to work too hard. The men fighting in that quarter need to see me, and I must do good where I can. I will take as many guards as you wish me to take.”

Gawyn hesitated, glanced at Leilwin, then finally nodded.

Lan dismounted and handed the reins to Andere, then continued past the guards—who seemed shocked to see him and his numerous guards, many of them bloodied— toward the command tent. The tent was little more than an awning now, open on all sides, with soldiers moving in and out like ants in a hill. The air was hot here in Shienar today. He had not received reports recently from the other battlefronts, but had heard his would not be the only desperate stand today. Elayne fought at Cairhien; the Amyrlin on the border of Arafel.

Light send that they were having a better time of it than Lan. Inside the tent, Agelmar stood with maps on the ground all around him, pointing at them with a thin pole and moving bits of colored stone around as he gave orders. Runners would come and give updates on the progress of battle. The best battle plans lasted only until the first sword was drawn, but a good general could work battles like a potter working clay, taking the ebbs and flows of soldiers and molding them.

“Lord Mandragoran?” Agelmar asked, looking up. “Light, man! You look like the Blight itself. Have you seen the Aes Sedai for Healing?”

“I am well,” Lan said. “How goes the battle?”

“I’m encouraged,” Agelmar said. “If we can find some way to stall those Dreadlords for an hour or two, I think we actually have a fair shot of turning the Trollocs back.”

“Surely not,” Lan said. “There are so many.”

“It’s not about numbers,” Agelmar said, waving Lan over, pointing at a map. “Lan, here is a thing that few men understand. Armies can and often do break when they have superior numbers, superior battlefield advantage, and a good chance of winning.

“When you spend time commanding, you start to think of an army as a single entity. A massive beast with thousands of limbs. That’s a mistake. An army is made up of men—or, in this case, Trollocs—each one on the field, each one terrified. Being a soldier is about keeping your terror in check. The beast inside just wants to escape.”

Lan crouched down, inspecting the battle maps. The situation was much as he’d seen it, only Agelmar still had the Saldaean light cavalry watching the eastern flank on the map. A mistake? Lan had confirmed for himself that they were no longer there. Shouldn’t runners have brought Agelmar word that the map was wrong? Or was he somehow distracting them from noticing?

“I’ll show you something today, Lan,” Agelmar said softly. “I’ll show you what the smallest man on the practice yard must learn if he is to survive. You can make the larger enemy break if you convince him that he is going to die. Hit him hard enough, and he will run, and won’t return to let you hit again—even if you’re secretly too weak to hit again.”

“That’s your plan, then?” Lan asked. “Today?”

“The Trollocs will break if we show them a display of force that frightens them,” Agelmar said. “I know it can work. I’m hoping that we can bring down the leader of those Dreadlords. If the Trollocs assume they’re losing, they will run. They are cowardly beasts.”