Doing what was right was the most important thing in life. It required any sacrifice. At this time, the right thing to do was flee. Galad could not face Asunawa; the High Inquisitor was backed by the Seanchan. Besides, the Last Battle was more important.
Galad stepped swiftly, walking through the muck back toward the front of the line of Children. They traveled light, with few pack animals, and his men wore their armor their mounts were laden with food and supplies.
At the front, Galad found Trom speaking with a few men who wore leathers and brown cloaks, not white tabards and steel caps. Their scouts. Trom nodded to him in respect; the Lord Captain was one of Galad's most trusted men. "Scouts say there's a small issue ahead, my Lord Captain Commander," Trom said.
"What issue?"
"It would be best to show it to you directly, sir," said Child Barlett, the leader of the scouts.
Galad nodded him forward. Ahead, the swampy forest seemed to be thinning. Thank the Light did that mean they were nearly free?
No. As Galad arrived, he found several other scouts looking out at a dead forest. Most trees in the swamp bore leaves
, though sickly ones, but those ahead were skeletal and ashen, as if burned. There was some kind of sickly white lichen or moss growing over everything. The tree trunks looked emaciated.
Water flooded this area, a wide but shallow river with a very slow current. It had swallowed the bases of many of the trees, and fallen tree limbs broke the dirty brown water like arms reaching toward the sky.
"There are corpses, my Lord Captain Commander," one of the scouts said, gesturing upriver. "Floating down. Looks like the remnants of a distant battle."
"Is this river on our maps?" Galad asked.
One by one, the scouts shook their heads.
Galad set his jaw. "Can this be forded?"
"It's shallow, my Lord Captain Commander," Child Barlett said. "But we'll have to watch for hidden depths."
Galad reached out to a tree beside him and broke free a long branch, the wood snapping loudly. "I will go first. Have the men remove their armor and cloaks."
The orders went down the line, and Galad took off his armor and wrapped it in his cloak, then tied it to his back. He hiked up his trousers as far as he could, then stepped down the gentle bank and plowed forward into the murky water. The sharply cold spring runoff made him tense. His boots sank inches into the sandy bottom, filling with-water, stirring up swirls of mud. Stout made a louder splash as he stepped into the water behind.
It wasn't too difficult to walk in; the water only came up to his knees. He used his stick to find the best footing. Those skeletal, dying trees 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."