Robert Jordan - Towers of Midnight (Wheel of Time)

Review

The battle scenes have the breathless urgency of firsthand experience, and the evil laced into the forces of good, the dangers latent in any promised salvation, the sense of the unavoidable onslaught of unpredictable events bear the marks of American national experience during the last three decades, just as the experience of the First World War and its aftermath gave its imprint to J. R. R. Tolkiens work.The New York Times on The Wheel of Time(r)

Product Description

The Last Battle has started. The seals on the Dark Ones prison are crumbling. The Pattern itself is unraveling, and the armies of the Shadow have begun to boil out of the Blight.

The sun has begun to set upon the Third Age.

Perrin Aybara is now hunted by specters from his past: Whitecloaks, a slayer of wolves, and the responsibilities of leadership. All the while, an unseen foe is slowly pulling a noose tight around his neck. To prevail, he must seek answers in Telaranrhiod and find a wayat long lastto master the wolf within him or lose himself to it forever.

Meanwhile, Matrim Cauthon prepares for the most difficult challenge of his life. The creatures beyond the stone gatewaysthe Aelfinn and the Eelfinnhave confused him, taunted him, and left him hanged, his memory stuffed with bits and pieces of other mens lives. He had hoped that his last confrontation with them would be the end of it, but the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. The time is coming when he will again have to dance with the Snakes and the Foxes, playing a game that cannot be won. The Tower of Ghenjei awaits, and its secrets will reveal the fate of a friend long lost.

This penultimate novel of Robert Jordans #1 New York Times bestselling seriesthe second of three based on materials he left behind when he died in 2007brings dramatic and compelling developments to many threads in the Pattern. The end draws near.

Dovieandi se tovya sagain. Its time to toss the dice.

Towers

of

Midnight

The Wheel of Time

by Robert Jordan

The Eye of the World

The Great Hunt

The Dragon Reborn

The Shadow Rising

The Fires of Heaven

Lord of Chaos

A Crown of Swords

The Path of Daggers

Winters Heart

Crossroads of Twilight

Knife of Dreams

by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson

The Gathering Storm

Towers of Midnight

Towers

of

Midnight

ROBERT JORDAN

AND BRANDON SANDERSON

TOR

fantasy

A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK NEW YORK

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imaginations or are used fictitiously.

TOWERS OF MIDNIGHT

Copyright (c) 2010 by The Bandersnatch Group, Inc.

The phrases The Wheel of Time(r) and The Dragon Reborn, and the snake-wheel symbol, are trademarks of Robert Jordan.

All rights reserved.

Maps by Ellisa Mitchell

Interior illustrations by Matthew C. Nielsen and Ellisa Mitchell

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC 175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

www.tor-forge.com

Tor(r) is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

ISBN 978-0-7653-2594-5

First Edition: November 2010

Printed in the United States of America

0987654321

For Jason Denzel, Melissa Craib, Bob Kluttz, Jennifer Liang,

Linda Taglieri, Matt Hatch, Leigh Butler, Mike Mackert,

and all those readers who over the years have made

The Wheel of Time part of their lives, and in doing so

have made the lives of others better.

7 Lighter than a Feather.133

8 The Seven-Striped Lass.143

9 Blood in the Air.159

19 Talk of Dragons.279

52 Boots .757

It soon became obvious, even within the stedding, that the Pattern was growing frail. The sky darkened. Our dead appeared, standing in rings outside the borders of the stedding, looking in. Most troublingly, trees fell ill, and no song would heal them.

It was in this time of sorrows that I stepped up to the Great Stump. At first, I was forbidden, but my mother, Covril, demanded I have my chance. I do not know what sparked her change of heart, as she herself had argued quite decisively for the opposing side. My hands shook. I would be the last speaker, and most seemed to have already made up their minds to open the Book of Translation. They considered me an afterthought.

And I knew that unless I spoke true, humanity would be left alone to face the Shadow. In that moment, my nervousness fled. I felt only a stillness, a calm sense of purpose. I opened my mouth, and I began to speak.

from The Dragon Reborn , by Loial,

son of Arent son of Halan, of Stedding Shangtai

Distinctions

M andarbs hooves beat a familiar rhythm on broken ground as Lan Mandragoran rode toward his death. The dry air made his throat rough and the earth was sprinkled white with crystals of salt that precipitated from below. Distant red rock formations loomed to the north, where sickness stained them. Blight marks, a creeping dark lichen.

He continued riding east, parallel to the Blight. This was still Saldaea, where his wife had deposited him, only narrowly keeping her promise to take him to the Borderlands. It had stretched before him for a long time, this road. Hed turned away from it twenty years ago, agreeing to follow Moiraine, but hed always known he would return. This was what it meant to bear the name of his fathers, the sword on his hip, and the hadori on his head.

This rocky section of northern Saldaea was known as the Proska Flats. It was a grim place to ride; not a plant grew on it. The wind blew from the north, carrying with it a foul stench. Like that of a deep, sweltering mire bloated with corpses. The sky overhead stormed dark, brooding.

That woman, Lan thought, shaking his head. How quickly Nynaeve had learned to talk, and think, like an Aes Sedai. Riding to his death didnt pain him, but knowing she feared for him that did hurt. Very badly.

He hadnt seen another person in days. The Saldaeans had fortifications to the south, but the land here was scarred with broken ravines that made it difficult for Trollocs to assault; they preferred attacking near Maradon.

That was no reason to relax, however. One should never relax, this close to the Blight. He noted a hilltop; that would be a good place for a scouts post. He made certain to watch it for any sign of movement. He rode around a depression in the ground, just in case it held waiting ambushers. He kept his hand on his bow. Once he traveled a little farther eastward, hed cut down into Saldaea and cross Kandor on its good roadways. Then

Some gravel rolled down a hillside nearby.

Lan carefully slid an arrow from the quiver tied to Mandarbs saddle. Where had the sound come from? To the right, he decided. Southward. The hillside there; someone was approaching from behind it.