The Gathering Storm полностью

“No, Aes Sedai!” the guard said. “I think it was a blast thrown from within the Tower, launched from one of the upper floors out at the flying creatures.”

“Well, at least someone else is fighting back,” Saerin said. “Where was it launched from?”

“I didn’t see,” the soldier said, still watching the skies. “Light, there it goes again! And again!” Red and yellow reflected from the smoke above, bathing the garden in light barely visible through the door and windows. Raken screamed in pain.

“Saerin Sedai!” Captain Chubain said, turning from a group of wounded soldiers. Saerin hadn’t seen them enter; she’d been too caught up with Katerine. “These men are down from the upper levels. It appears that there’s a second rallying point for the defense, and it’s doing very well. The Seanchan are breaking off their attack below to focus there.”

“Where?” Saerin asked eagerly. “Specifically?”

“The twenty-second, Aes Sedai. Northeastern quarter.”

“What?” Katerine asked. “The Brown Ajah sections?”

No. That was what had been there before. Now, with the swapping of the Tower’s corridors, that area of the Tower was . . . “The novices’ quarters?” Saerin said. That seemed even more ridiculous. “How in the world. . . .” She trailed off, eyes widening slightly. “Egwene.”

Each faceless Seanchan that Egwene struck down seemed to be Renna in her mind’s eye. Egwene stood at an open hole in the side of the White Tower, wind pulling at her white dress, tugging at her hair, howling as if in accompaniment to her rage.

Her anger was not out of control. It was cold and distilled. The Tower was burning. She had Foretold this, she had Dreamed it, but the reality was far worse than she had feared. If Elaida had prepared for the event, the damage would have been much less. But there was no point in longing for what had not been.

Instead, she directed her anger—the anger of justice, the wrath of the Amyrlin. She blasted to’raken after to’raken from the air. They were much less maneuverable than their smaller cousins. She must have felled a dozen by now, and her actions had drawn the attention of those outside. The attack below was breaking off, the entire raid focusing on Egwene. The novices fought Seanchan raiding parties on the stairs, forcing them back. To’raken winged about in the air, swooping around the Tower, trying to take Egwene with shields or blasts of fire. Smaller raken darted through the air, crossbowmen on their backs launching bolts at her.

But she was a fount of Power, drawn from deep within the fluted rod in her hands, channeled through a group of novices and Accepted hiding in the room behind, bound to her in circle. Egwene was part of the fires that burned in the Tower, bloodying the sky with their flames, painting the air with their smoke. She almost seemed not a being of flesh, but one of pure Power, sending judgment to those who had dared bring war to the Tower itself. Blasts of lightning stormed from the sky, the clouds churning above. Fire sprouted from her hands.

Perhaps she should have feared breaking the Three Oaths. But she did not. This was a fight that needed to be fought, and she did not lust for death—though, perhaps, her rage against the sul’dam approached it. The soldiers and damane were unfortunate casualties.

The White Tower, the sacred dwelling of the Aes Sedai, was under attack. They were all in danger, a danger greater than death. Those silvery collars were far worse. Egwene defended herself and each woman in the Tower.

She would make the Seanchan withdraw.

Shield after shield came to sever her from the source, but they were like the hands of children trying to stem the roaring flow of a waterfall. With this much power, she could not be stopped save by a full circle, and the Seanchan didn’t use circles; the a’dam prevented it.

The attackers prepared weaves to strike her down, but each time Egwene struck first, either deflecting the balls of fire with a blast of air or simply bringing down the to’raken who carried the women trying to kill her.

Some beasts had flown away into the night, bearing captives. Egwene had felled the ones she could, but there had been so many to’raken in this raid. Some would escape. Sisters would be captured.

She formed a ball of fire in each hand, blasting another beast from the sky as it swooped too close. Yes, some would escape. But they would pay dearly. That was another goal. She had to make certain they never attacked the Tower again.

This raid had to cost them.

“Bryne! Above you!”