Lord of Chaos. A Crown of Swords. The Path of Daggers. Winter's Heart. Crossroads of Twilight. Knife of Dreams by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson. Crossroads Of Twilight - Wheel Of Time 10 Robert Jordan And it shall come to pass, in the days when the Dark Hunt ride. Crossroads of Twilight: Book Ten of 'The Wheel of Time' · Read more Jordan, Robert - WOT 10 - Crossroads Of Twilight. Read more.

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View Essay - (10) Crossroads of Twilight - Robert from POLI at Louisiana State University. Praise for THE WHEEL OF TIME The battle scenes. All right, I have to establish something before I get into my discussion of this book. First off, I've never been one who complained about the. Crossroads of Twilight (The Wheel of Time #10). In the tenth book of The Wheel of Time from the New York Times #1 bestselling author Robert Jordan, the world .

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A Husband's Regret Unwanted 2. The Light send that he could be again. There was a faint creak of leather and metal as others eased their weapons. For the rest, silence.

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The forest was as still as a frozen tomb. Only a limb breaking under the weight of snow. After a moment, he let himself relax—as much as he had relaxed since the tales came north of the Dragon Reborn appearing in the sky at Falme.

Perhaps the man really was the Dragon Reborn, perhaps he really had appeared in the sky, but whatever the truth, those tales had set Arad Doman on fire. Ituralde was sure he could have put out that fire, given a freer hand. It was not boasting to think so. He knew what he could do, with a battle, a campaign, or a war. But ever since the Council had decided the King would be safer smuggled out of Bandar Eban, Alsalam seemed to have taken into his head that he was the rebirth of Artur Hawkwing.

Crossroads of Twilight

His signature and seal had marked scores of battle orders since, flooding out from wherever the Council had him hidden. They would not say where that was, even to Ituralde himself.

Every woman on the Council that he confronted went flat-eyed and evasive at any mention of the King. He could almost believe they did not know where Alsalam was.

A ridiculous thought, of course. The Council kept an unblinking eye on the King. Ituralde had always believed the merchant Houses interfered too much, yet he wished they would interfere now.

Why they remained silent was a mystery, for a king who damaged trade did not remain long on the throne. He was loyal to his oaths, and Alsalam was a friend, besides, but the orders the King sent could not have been better written to achieve chaos.

Nor could they be ignored. Alsalam was the King. But he had commanded Ituralde to march north with all possible speed against a great gathering of Dragonsworn that Alsalam supposedly knew of from secret spies, then ten days later, with no Dragonsworn yet in sight, an order came to move south again, with all possible speed, against another gathering that never materialized.

He had been commanded to concentrate his forces to defend Bandar Eban when a threepronged attack might have ended it all and to divide them when a hammer blow could have done the same, to harry ground he knew the Dragonsworn had abandoned, and to march away from where he knew they camped.

And all the while the Dragonsworn gained numbers, and confidence. This last order was different, though.

For one thing, a Gray Man had killed Lady Tuva trying to stop it from reaching him. Why the Shadow might fear this order more than any other was a mystery, yet it was all the more reason to move swiftly.

Crossroads of Twilight (The Wheel of Time #10)

Before Alsalam reached him with another. This order opened many possibilities, and he had considered every last one he could see. But the good ones all started here, today. When small chances of success were all that remained, you had to seize them. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Ituralde repeated the three harsh calls. Moments later a shaggy, pale dapple gelding appeared out of the trees, his rider in a white cloak streaked with black.

Man and horse alike would have been hard to see in the snowy forest had they been standing still. The rider pulled up beside Ituralde. A stocky man, he wore only a single sword, with a short blade, and there were a cased bow and a quiver fastened to his saddle.

Someone had tried to hang Donjel when he was young, though the reason was lost in the years. What remained of his short-cropped hair was iron-gray. The dark leather patch covering the socket of his right eye was a remnant of another youthful scrape. One eye or two, though, he was the best scout Ituralde had ever known. You can see them a mile off, but nobody will get close without them at the lodge hearing of it in time to get away.

He had offered the White Ribbon, and the men he was to meet had accepted. Three days when men pledged under the Light, by their souls and hope of salvation, not to draw a weapon against another or shed blood. The White Ribbon had not been tested in this war, however, and these days some men had strange ideas of where salvation lay.

Those who called themselves Dragonsworn, for instance. He had always been called a gambler, though he was not. The trick was in knowing what risks you could take. And sometimes, in knowing which ones you had to take. Pulling a packet sewn into oiled silk from his boot top, he handed it to Donjel. He had carried its like for Ituralde before, usually on the eve of battle. The Light send this was not the time Tamsin would have to open that packet.

She would come after him—she had told him so—the first incident ever of the living haunting the dead. The sun rose to its height and began again to descend as they rode. The dark clouds in the north moved closer, and the chill bit deeper.

There was no sound but the crunch of hooves breaking through the snow crust. The forest seemed empty save for themselves.

He did not see any of the sentries Donjel had spoken of. They would be expecting him, of course.

(10) Crossroads of Twilight - Robert Jordan.pdf - Praise...

And watching to make sure he was not followed by an army, White Ribbon or no White Ribbon. A good many of them likely had reasons they felt sufficient to feather Rodel Ituralde with arrows.Can he remain true to his friend Rand and to himself?

One eye or two, though, he was the best scout Ituralde had ever known. He could almost believe they did not know where Alsalam was.

Page 3. Ituralde was sure he could have put out that fire, given a freer hand. Now, Rand must gamble again, with himself at stake, and he cannot be sure which of his allies are really enemies.