Read Towers of Midnight for Free Online

were unnerving. They didn't seem to be rotting, and now that he was closer, he could better see the ash-gray fuzz among the lichen that coated their trunks and branches.
    The Children behind splashed loudly as more and more of them entered the wide stream. Nearby, bulbous forms floated down the river to catch upon rocks. Some were the corpses of men, but many were larger. Mules, he realized, catching a better look at a snout. Dozens of them. They'd been dead for some time, judging by the bloat.
    Likely a village upstream had been attacked for its food. This wasn't the first group of dead they'd found.
    He reached the other side of the river, then climbed out. As he unrolled his trouser legs and donned his armor and cloak, he felt his shoulder aching from the blows Valda had given him. His thigh still stung, too.
    He turned and continued down the game trail northward, leading the way as other Children reached the bank. He longed to ride Stout, but he dared not. Though they were out of the river, the ground was still damp, uneven, and pocked with hidden sinkholes. If he rode, he could easily cost Stout a broken leg and himself a broken crown.
    So he and his men walked, surrounded by those gray trees, sweating in the miserable heat. He longed for a good bath.
    Eventually, Trom jogged up the line to him. "All men are across safely." He checked the sky. "Burn those clouds. I can never tell what time it is."
    "Four hours past midday," Galad said.
    "You're certain?"
    "Yes."
    "Weren't we to stop at midday to discuss our next step?" That meeting was to have taken place once they got through the swamp.
    "For now, we have few choices," Galad said. "I will lead the men northward to Andor."
    "The Children have met . . . hostility there."
    "I have some secluded land up in the northwest. I will not be turned away there, regardless of who controls the throne."
    Light send that Elayne held the Lion Throne. Light send that she had escaped the tangles of the Aes Sedai, though he feared the worst. There were many who would use her as a pawn, al'Thor not the least of them. She was headstrong, and that could make her easy to manipulate.
    "We'll need supplies," Trom said. "Forage is difficult, and more and more villages are empty."
    Galad nodded. A legitimate concern.
    "It's a good plan, though," Trom said, then lowered his voice. "I'll admit, Damodred, I worried that you'd refuse leadership."
    "I could not. To abandon the Children now, after killing their leader, would be wrong."
    Trom smiled. "It's as simple as that to you, isn't it?"
    "It should be as simple as that to anyone." Galad had to rise to the station he had been given. He had no other option. "The Last Battle comes and the Children of the Light will fight. Even if we have to make alliances with the Dragon Reborn himself, we will fight."
    For some time, Galad hadn't been certain about al'Thor. Certainly the Dragon Reborn would have to fight at the Last Battle. But was that man al'Thor, or was he a puppet of the Tower, and not the true Dragon Reborn? That sky was too dark, the land too broken. Al'Thor must be the Dragon Reborn. That didn't mean, of course, that he wasn't also a puppet of the Aes Sedai.
    Soon they passed beyond the skeletal gray trees, reaching ones that were more ordinary. These still had yellowed leaves, too many dead branches. But that was better than the fuzz.
    About an hour later, Galad noted Child Barlett returning. The scout was a lean man, scarred on one cheek. Galad held up a hand as the man approached. "What word?"
    Barlett saluted with arm to chest. "The swamp dries out and the trees thin in about one mile, my Lord Captain Commander. The field beyond is open and empty, the way clear to the north."
    Light be thanked! Galad thought. He nodded to Barlett, and the man hurried back through the trees.
    Galad glanced back at the line, of men. They were muddied, sweaty, and fatigued. But still, they were a grand sight, their armor replaced, their faces determined. They