He had intended to find Demandred by seeking the origin of the man’s attacks, but if he was just channeling to put out fires, then—
The Shadow’s army charged, racing down the slope toward Hawal Ford. Though the Sharans remained behind, the bulk of the Trollocs moved. They obviously intended to push over the now-dry riverbed and engage Cauthon’s army.
If Cauthon had intended to lure all of Demandred’s forces off the Heights, he had failed. Many Sharans remained behind, infantry and cavalry units, watching impassively as the Trollocs thundered toward battle.
Explosions pounded along the slope, throwing Trollocs into the air like dirt from a beaten rug. Gawyn hesitated, crouching low. Dragons, the few working ones. Mat had set them up somewhere across the river; it was difficult to see an exact position because of the smoke. By the sound, there were only half a dozen or so, but the damage they caused was enormous, particularly considering the distance.
A burst of red light from nearby atop the Heights launched toward the smoke of the dragons. Gawyn smiled. Thank you kindly. He put his hand on his sword. Time to test just how well these rings worked.
He dashed, low and quick, out of cover. Most of the Trollocs were piling down the slope, loping toward the dry riverbed. Crossbow bolts and arrows assaulted them, and another round of dragon fire came from a slightly different location. Cauthon had the dragons moving, and Demandred had trouble pinpointing them.
Gawyn ran between howling Shadowspawn. The ground thumped like a beating heart from the impacts along the ground behind him. Smoke whipped around him, thick in his throat. His hands had been blackened, and he assumed his face had been as well. He hoped that would help keep him hidden.
Trollocs turned about, screeching or grunting, but none of them fixed upon him. They knew something had passed, but to them, he was merely a blur.
Egwene’s anger poured through the bond. Gawyn smiled. He had not expected her to be pleased. As he ran, arrows slicing the earth around him, he found peace with his choice. Once, perhaps, he would have done this for the pride of the battle and the chance to pit himself against Demandred.
That was not his heart now. His heart was the need. Someone had to fight this creature, someone had to kill him or they would lose this battle. They could all see it. Risking Egwene or Logain would be too great a gamble.
Gawyn could be risked. No one would send him to do this—no one would dare—but it was necessary. He had a chance to change things, to really matter. He did it for Andor, for Egwene, for the world itself.
Ahead, Demandred bellowed his now familiar challenge. "Send me al’Thor, not these so-called dragons!" Another streak of fire flew from him.
Gawyn passed the charging Trollocs and came up behind a large group of Sharans with strange bows, almost as big as those of the Two Rivers. They surrounded a mounted man in interlinking armor of coins, bound at holes in the centers, with a gorget and armguards. The faceplate on his fearsome helmet was open. That proud face was eerily familiar to Gawyn, handsome and imperious.
This will have to be quick, Gawyn thought. And Light, I'd better not give him a chance to channel.
The Sharan archers stood at the ready, but only two of them turned as Gawyn slipped between them. Gawyn pulled his knife from his belt sheath. He’d have to drag Demandred off his horse, then go for the face with his knife. It felt like a coward’s attack, but it was the best way. Trip him, and Gawyn could—
Demandred spun, suddenly, and looked toward Gawyn. A second later, the man thrust his hand forward, and a beam of white-hot fire—thin as a twig—shot for Gawyn.
It missed, striking just beside Gawyn as he leaped away. Cracks opened all across the ground nearby. Deep, black cracks, that seemed to open into eternity itself.
Gawyn leaped forward, cutting at Demandred's saddle. So fast. These rings let him react while Demandred was still staring in confusion.
The saddle came off and Gawyn rammed his knife into the horse’s side. The beast screamed and reared, throwing Demandred backward, saddle and all.
Gawyn leaped, bloodied knife out, as the horse bolted and the Sharan archers cried out. He loomed over Demandred, knife raised in two hands.
The Forsaken’s body suddenly jolted, and the man was pushed to the side. Air blew about the blackened ground, raising flakes of ash, as weaves of air caught Demandred and spun him about, depositing him on his feet with a clink, sword unsheathed. The Forsaken crouched, and released another weave—Gawyn felt air spinning next to him, as if threads of it had tried to grab him. He was too quick, and Demandred obviously had trouble hitting him because of the rings.
Gawyn backed away and switched his knife to his off hand, unsheathing his sword in his right.
"So", Demandred said, "an assassin. And Lews Therin always spoke of the ‘honor’ of facing a man face-to-face".
"I wasn’t sent by the Dragon Reborn".
"With Night’s Shade surrounding you, a weave that none from this Age remember? Do you know that what Lews Therin has done to you will leak your life away? You are dead, little man".
"Then you can join me in the grave", Gawyn said.
Demandred stood up, taking his sword in two hands in an unfamiliar battle stance. He seemed able to track Gawyn somewhat despite the rings, but his responses were a hair slower than they should have been.
Apple Blossoms in the Wind, with three quick strikes, forced Demandred back. Several Sharans came forward with swords, but Demandred raised a gauntleted hand to warn them off. He did not smile at Gawyn—this man did not seem as if he ever smiled—but he performed something that was similar to Lightning of Three Prongs. Gawyn replied with The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain.
Demandred was good. With the edge granted by the rings, Gawyn narrowly escaped Demandred’s riposte. The two danced through a small circle of open ground guarded by the watching Sharans. Distant booms threw iron spheres at the hillside, making the ground shake. There were only a few dragons still firing, but they seemed to be concentrating on this position.
Gawyn grunted, throwing himself into Storm Shakes the Branch, trying to push inside Demandred's guard. He would need to be close and ram his sword into the armpit or between the seams of the coin armor.
Demandred responded with skill and finesse. Gawyn was soon sweating beneath his mail. He felt faster than he’d ever been, his reactions like the darting movements of a hummingbird. Yet, try as he did, he could not land a hit.
"Who are you, little man?" Demandred growled, walking back with sword raised at his side. "You fight well".
"Gawyn Trakand".
"The little queens brother", Demandred said. "You realize who I am".
"A murderer".
"And has your Dragon not murdered?" Demandred said. "Has your sister never killed to keep, dare I say seize, her throne?"
"That’s different".
"So everyone always says". Demandred stepped forward. His sword forms were smooth, his back always straight but relaxed, and he used the broad, sweeping movements of a dancer. He had absolute mastery of his sword; Gawyn had not heard that Demandred was known for his swordsmanship, but this man was as good as any man Gawyn had ever faced. Better, truly.
Gawyn performed Cat Dances on the Wall, a beautiful, sweeping sword form that matched Demandred's. Then he ducked in with The Serpent’s Tongue Dances, hoping his previous form would have lulled Demandred into letting a thrust slip past.
Something crashed into Gawyn, throwing him to the ground. He rolled, coming up in a crouch. His breathing grew labored. He did not feel pain because of the rings, but he had probably broken a rib.
A rock, Gawyn thought. He channeled and brought a rock in to hit me. He had trouble hitting Gawyn with weaves, because of the shadows, but something large could be tossed at the shadows and still hit him.
"You cheat", Gawyn said with a sneer.
"Cheat?" Demandred asked. "Are there rules, little swordsman? As I recall, you tried to stab me in the back while hiding in a shroud of darkness".
Gawyn breathed in and out, holding his side. A dragon’s iron sphere thumped into the ground just a short distance away, then exploded. The blast ripped apart some Sharans, their bodies shielding Gawyn and Demandred from the brunt of the blast. The soil rained down, like a spray of surf on the deck of a ship. At least one of the dragons was still working.
"You name me a murderer", Demandred said, "and I am. I am also your savior, whether you wish it or not".
"You’re mad".
"Hardly", Demandred walked around him, cutting the air with a few sweeps of his sword. "That man you follow, Lews Therin Telamon, he is mad. He thinks he can defeat the Great Lord. He cannot. That is simple fact".
"You’d have us join the Shadow instead?"
"Yes". Demandred’s eyes were cold. "If I kill Lews Therin, in victory I will be given the right to remake the world as I wish. The Great Lord cares nothing for rule. The only way to protect this world is to destroy it, and then shelter its people. Is that not what your Dragon claims he can do?"
"Why do you keep calling him my Dragon?" Gawyn said, then spat blood to the side. The rings . . . they urged him forward. His limbs pulsed with strength, energy. Fight! Kill!
"You follow him", Demandred said.
"I do not!"
"Lies", Demandred said. "Or perhaps you are simply fooled. I know that Lews Therin leads this army. At first I was uncertain, but no longer. That weave about you is proof enough, but I have a greater one. No mortal general has such skill as this day has shown; I face a true master on the battlefield. Perhaps Lews Therin wears the Mask of Mirrors, or perhaps he leads by sending messages to this Cauthon through the One Power. It does not matter, I see the truth. I dice with Lews Therin this day.
"I was always the better general. I will prove it here. I would have you tell that to Lews Therin, but you will not live long enough, little swordsman. Prepare yourself". Demandred raised his sword.
Gawyn stood, dropping his knife, taking his sword in two hands. Demandred stalked toward him, using forms that were different from those Gawyn knew. They were still familiar enough for him to counter, but despite his greater speed, time and time again Demandred caught his sword and deflected it harmlessly to the side.
The man did not strike. He barely moved, feet set wide apart, sword in two hands, battering aside each and every attack Gawyn hurled at him. The Dove Takes Flight, The Falling Leaf, Leopard’s Caress. Gawyn gritted his teeth, growling through them. The rings should have been enough. Why weren’t the rings enough?
Gawyn stepped back, then ducked backward as another stone came hurtling toward him. It missed him by inches. Thank the Light for these rings, he thought.
"You fight with skill", Demandred said, "for one of this Age. But you still wield your sword, little man".
"What else would I do?"
"Become the sword yourself", Demandred said, as if baffled that Gawyn did not understand.
Gawyn growled and came in again, battering at Demandred. Gawyn was still faster. Demandred didn’t attack; he was on the defensive, then, although he didn’t retreat. He just stood there, turning aside each blow.