Casualties of War (Attn Visar)

[Sangreal]

Sandre and Visar both had been preparing for the campaign for months. It couldnt really be called a campaign. They didnt plan to go into the Blight and if they did not far. It was a trade off with other small houses. None of them could afford to have their men out in the field all the time and it would also have been inefficient. The soldiers needed to be home at least some of the time with their families. So it was that there was a trade off. Every third year the Kaldun men at arms would go to the field, the other two years were traded off with two other houses to protect the lands of all three. The Blight was quiet lately. Some had even seen signs of it receding though Sandre couldnt believe that. There was still raiding along the borders and most houses in Shienar agreed that now was the time to starve the menaces of the Blight. So for the last couple of years, with heavy support from the Andor Kalduns, a large host of new soldiers were supplied and trained. The largest standing force of men at arms the Kaldun's have had since the Trolloc Wars.

 

As was always the case with these things volunteers from other lands also showed up for what the Kalduns called their "Blooding". Each survivor who had not previously served a campaign would leave with a set of military records from the house detailing the time served and in what position to show other houses they may volunteer for that they had fought and bled against the Trollocs. It was Visar himself who would lead a number of the Volunteers. Twenty five total, a fourth of their numbers. At the head of each volunteer unit they insisted on placing a skill warrior for the sake of moral. Some of the volunteers traveled together and came with their own standards. Visar's unit was not such a one. He felt bad that Visar had only a month to get these guys to work the way he wanted them to. Sandre couldnt help but notice how proud Visar was of them though. It was a line of spear men to protect the archers. If he was lucky he wouldnt see much combat but they would make sure that each line served its turn in the front, and every man faced a Trolloc. It was the only way they would learn.

 

Tyr would oversee the whole thing. Below him was A'tal, and below him Danz. Sandre was fourth with only 50 men under him to the other threes 100 each. Visar was his as well.

 

The troops stood in formation. It was a final inspection before they leave. When Tyr had finished and given a speech about their purpose, they set out. It was only a week to the border. The Kaldun lands were not very big. Scouts when out to look for signs. It was a couple of days before they came back to tell Tyr they had found a small group. Not big but big enough to Blood the new recruits. The bonus was that they were heading towards a village on the Kaldun lands but that the they would be there first. Plans were made, but only Visar's unit would be needed from Sandre's troops, his other unit would only intervene if needed. So that night when camp was made Sandre went to him.

 

"Your unit will be in the fighting tomorrow to blood your men... remember to rotate them like we practiced and I have full confidence you will have minimum casualties. Are you ready for this?"

 

Sandre had done a scouting mission for the Tower awhile ago so this was not going to be his first time in the fight against Trollocs.

 

"I will be there to cover if your men are slow about moving out or pulling out their wounded. We need to know who will need more work and I think between the two of us we can identify the problem recruits."

 

 

[Visar Falmaien]

The time they had trained for had finally arrived. Visar stood in formation with his fellow pikemen at the inspection, proud that he led a unit and that they had done well considering they had only had a month to train together.  He sincerely hoped that he would be able to pull them through this season of battle.

 

The future worried him, as it did all reasonable men, but Visar forced himself to push his fear aside.  He knew he would be fighting trollocs, maybe even Fades, shadowspawn that he had thought were mere fairy tales.  They were real, though.  Visar could not detect a lie when the veterens told their stories about vicious monsters that seemed some sick twisted mix of humans and beasts.  Visar had heard about Myrdraal, and how they could take out as many as ten men, and still thrash about until they died.  The Light send they did not have to face any of those today.

 

Visar marched with his men, quickly and proudly.  They had trained hard, and they would do their best to keep Shienar safe from the Shadow.  Once they were close to the village ---the intercept point for a group of shadowspawn sighted slipping past the watchtowers--- Sandre pulled Visar aside.

 

"Your unit will be in the fighting tomorrow to blood your men... remember to rotate them like we practiced and I have full confidence you will have minimum casualties. Are you ready for this?"

 

Visar nodded.  "I'm as ready as I'll ever be." he replied honestly.  He had never truly been in a battle before, nor had he ever faced the monstrous trollocs, stronger and faster than mere men.  He could not help but be a little nervous about it.

"I will be there to cover if your men are slow about moving out or pulling out their wounded. We need to know who will need more work and I think between the two of us we can identify the problem recruits."

 

Visar nodded.  He trusted Sandre, and if he said he'd be there if needed he'd be there.

 

"I'll be sure to signal when I need you." Visar added.  He planned on securing the village keep and using it as a signal post of sorts for the other Kalduns operating in the area.  Smoke signals by day and fire by night.

 

"I'll keep a close eye on anyone that can't handle it."  Visar had heard stories of this more disturbing phenomenon as well.  Grown men trained to fight without fear, and yet they cowered uselessly, or did everything they could to be excused back to the back lines.  Visar would not tolerate their sort for long.

 

Their plans exchanged for the morrow, Visar said simply,

"Peace favor your sword, Sandre."

He hoped that both of them would make it out of this alive, but it was not going to be up to him alone.

 

Visar encouraged his twenty-five pikemen to turn in early tonight.  They would need all the rest they could get.  Even so, on the eve of battle, very few men, Visar included, were able to get to sleep for a long time.

 

-----

When the morning broke, the sun red and terrible, Visar found himself rubbing his eyes.  Had he even slept?  No time for second guessing himself.  It was time to gear up and move out.

 

Within twenty minutes his squad was ready.  A few good archers went with the pikemen to back them up.  They would need men with good aim if they intended to fight in a village, with buildings being natural vantage points for lookouts and archers.

 

They marched to the village, the sounds of their feet and armor muffled as much as possible.  While they were pretty sure they would arrive there first before the shadowspawn, one could never be too careful.  If the shadowspawn were already there, Visar would send two men back with the news and move to fight them.  If the village was safe, he would get permission from whoever was in charge to give a smoke signal from the tower.

[Sangreal]

The town was an easy target. Only a few men stationed there mostly as a sort of City Guard, a wooden wall that had been broken and rebuilt so many times that it seemed just a hard push would knock it over. Palisades outside the wall that looked to be so old that moss was growing on them. Not to mention the rickety Tower used to hold up one of the walls it seemed. The volunteers, 50 in all were set up to stand between the Trollocs and the village. Inside the village which was actually quite large with around five hundred people the rest of the soldiers waited. Sandre and a small unit of heavy cavalry to protect him stood on a nearby hill to look down on the battle. They waited on a signal from Visar's bannerman should they be needed.

 

The Trollocs came fast. Sandre had never knew they could run so fast. They crashed into the volunteer spear lines and Sandre braced believing they would collapse instantly from the initial charge. They held, though already injures and dead were being moved to the rear. Several more times it seemed either Visar or the other junior commander's line was going to break and each time they seemed to recover. The Trollocs were not against the idea of using their bulk to just smash into the men and a couple of spear wounds would not put a Trolloc down. Minutes dragged on like hours. Those in the front already tiring began to cycle back though the transition was not smooth. Sandre watched a line almost collapse from it and leaned forward again. They needed only continue this until they cycled all the men into the fight then Sandre and the rest of the troops waiting just inside the gate would rush out to finish the job.

[Visar Falmaien]

Visar stood in the left flank, carefully watching his men for any signs of weakness; any signs that they might break and run from the force approaching them.  Visar looked out, forcing his fear of death down, as he saw the trollocs advance.  Even from a distance, they were monstrous looking.  Towering above every man there, their strength and size would not be easy to fight.  And they advanced straight at them!  As if they did not care that Visar and the mens' pikes stood as a wall in their way.  As if some other force greater than the fear of death was driving them...

 

They charged, now at a run.  Visar's eyes widened at their incredible speed, but he forced himself not to make a sound.  He glanced to the side, and saw three men flinch, instinctively stepping backward.  It was not yet time to lower the phalanx, though.

 

"Steady Men!" Visar shouted at the top of his lungs, as the trollocs came closer and closer.  Three hundred paces.  Two hundred fifty paces...

 

At one hundred paces, Visar finally gave the signal, perhaps a little too soon, but at that range, he needed the men to be sure of one thing.  However dangerous this enemy was, their long pikes could still skewer them.

 

"Spears! Spears!"  Visar shrieked, signaling with his pike, and almost as one, the fifty of them lowered their spears, three rows of fifteen men creating a deadly phalanx.  Visar held on with one hand to the men in front of him, as every man behind the front rank did to give weight if it came to a pushing match.

 

Only a few of the trollocs faltered, but whatever was driving them made them keep coming straight at them.  Who was directing this force?  Did they not know they were committing these men to suicide?

 

At fifty paces, the trollocs suddenly banked to the left, going for one of the flanks.  Almost too late, Visar shouted,

"Turn, Face Left! Turn Face Left!" to try to adjust the distance, but they were only half prepared when the trollocs finally made collision, their spears, axes, and strangely curved swords striking.

 

Fortunately, most of the unit's weapons were longer, and many trollocs were killed before they could reach the front.  Visar shouted, trying to adjust his line, trying to hold onto the left and trying to bring the right around to form a semi circle.  That way, the trolloc's flanking might become the flanked, and they'd have a chance to rout them by themselves.

 

But the weight and savagry of the attack caught many of the men off guard, or else by chance.  Visar found himself in the front within a minute, stabbing viciously at the attackers with his pike.  He hit one, he hit two...His pike stuck in the trolloc's mail!  A spear struck a glancing blow off his helmet, and Visar found himself being dragged back to the back to make sure he was ok.

 

"Steady!  Steady!  Hold!" He shouted still, dizzy but not hurt from the potentially concussive blow.  He saw a man right in front of him fall, a huge cleaver splitting his helmet and the skull beneath it.  Blood splattered; the man fell.  Visar finally had his sword out, and rushed forward over the man's corpse.  He could only see a few feet in front of him.  He now had no idea whether the line had reformed to the right of him or not.  He could only do what he could to hold the line.  A sword flashed towards him.  He ducked and flashed his blade up, Low Wind Rising, hitting deep into the trolloc's arm.  The creature roared and dropped its weapon, but did not run, fanatically throwing himself onto Visar to try to weigh him down.  Visar recovered a guard and stabbed it through the face.  Stepping back frantically to avoid another blow, he barely managed to keep a hold of his sword.

 

"Reform the Line!  Signal the Horse!" Visar screamed, having quite enough of this. If he waited any longer his line might break again. He joined the line, his sword bloody.  The trollocs were still pressing at them, but there didn't seem to be quite as many now.  Glancing to his right, Visar could see steel flashing, pikes darting out and back.  The right line was dealing death slowly but surely.  The left line had lost a few men, but still held.  They were somewhat spread out, the wounded and killed pulled to the back, but there were a few determined faces.  Visar made tight movements with his sword, thrusting out occasionally but not scoring any further hits.  The trollocs seemed to have shifted to trying to fight the stronger right line at an angle, but they weren't having much success.

 

Visar could feel the earth beneath his feet thunder, and a few moments later Sandre's cavalry crashed into the enemy rear.  Dust clouded his vision, and for a few agonizing moments Visar had no idea what was going on.  Then it cleared, and finally showed horses pursuing a broken foe.

 

"Reform!" Visar shouted enthusiastically.  Those not wounded did so, and marched forward at a double time, following the cavalry to finish off any Shadowspawn they had not killed.  Visar ran with them to a few twitching bodies, swift to deliver the coup de grace.

 

A few minutes later, victory was assured, and the cavalry came back.  Only two trollocs had escaped the butchery.  The rest had been destroyed.  Visar quickly doubled back, making a tally of how many men he had lost of his twenty five.  Three men were dead, two more critically wounded.  They might not last until sunset.  Four more had serious wounds worth mentioning, but they would live, and two of those bravely said they could still fight in the line.  My first battle, and I already have Seven casualties, Visar thought, wondering how long he would last. The other twenty-five volunteers had done better, with only two badly wounded. That made it nine casualties out of fifty.  Visar felt guilty that he was miraculously unscathed, but he thanked the Light and whatever Powers were out there for surviving just the same.

 

Visar had a grim expression on his face when he saw Sandre ride up to him later.  How had his friend fared?  Hopefully better than they had.  Visar couldn't imagine a routed enemy putting up much of a fight.  Sandre asked him how he was holding up, Visar only muttered, his mind trying to grasp what he had just been through.

 

"They came right at us.  As if they didn't care at all about their lives!  As if all they wanted to do was to kill as many of us as they could."  If this was just a skirmish, what would happen if they were ever outnumbered?  They could not withstand battle after battle of this!  He shuddered, trying to keep despairing thoughts from his mind. 

 

"Sorry." he muttered again, clearing his head and doing what he should be doing.  Visar saluted, giving his grim report without any emotion in his voice.

"Visar Falmaien, bannerman reporting: Enemy fought fanatically, but were defeated.  They almost outflanked us, but we held, with nine casualties total; three, no four dead now, five wounded."

 

He added in a warmer voice,

"Good timing, my friend.  You probably saved another five, maybe ten men from being casualties coming as soon as you did."

[Sangreal]

Sandre watched as men fell, some never to rise again. It was important though that their fears be faced head on. Soon they would be out numbered and their courage needed to hold. Calmly Sandre picked out the men who needed more work. A couple who looked as though they didnt remember any training at all when it mattered. One would live with the guilt that the man to his left died because he didnt do as he was told. The other he would calmly let Visar know about. It was his unit, his responsibility, he would handle punishments or his unit would not respect him. If Sandre managed to find two from that far off, he wondered how many Visar had seen if he had seen much of anything.

 

He took Visar's compliment straight faced and nodded. "They fought well. You should be proud. Walk with me and we will see what we need to do about the ones who didnt."

 

Visar gave hasty orders to the bannerman for bringing in the wounded that could be moved and the bodies. A'tal also walked off with the junior commander of the other company, no doubt to let him know the problem soldiers from what he saw in the Tower.

 

"I saw two men fail today Visar." he nodded to one man "The man with red ribbon tied to his sleeve... no doubt here trying to earn money to marry whoever gave him that." Sandre said almost bitter. "He lowered his shield and almost turned back during the charge. He didnt run but he didnt protect the guy to his left and caused his death. He will have to live with that and I think just a talk about what he did may do it and a warning not to do it again. The other..." as he pointed off to a man with rather nicely made armor, no doubt a merchant's son or a minor noble trying to earn some respect. "He broke the phalanx and tried to be a hero with his sword. You would have two less injured men were it not for him. Your men saw the whole thing. While no one was killed so it wont be his head, he has earned stripes and you will have to give them to him. Im sorry this has to fall on you, but they are yours."

 

Sandre walked back to talk to a few of the men who had fought extremely well. It was the Generals they loved, the unit commanders such as Visar were to be feared and respected. Sandre was also not afraid to get his hands dirty to help with healing the others, and had slept in the dirt with his men rather than a General's tent. He wondered if Visar would have the courage to carry out the punishments to those who needed them. It was their first battle but exceptions could not be afforded.

[Visar Falmaien]

Visar listened carefully as Sandre pointed out a couple men he saw showing signs that they might not be as disciplined.  He nodded, though he was unsure how to deal with such "infringements".  On the one hand, he wanted to talk to them, and make them drill extra just so they would know by repetition what they should be doing.  On the other hand though, for most of the men there this was their first battle with Shadowspawn.  It was only natural that some of them would make mistakes, intentional or not.

 

"I'll talk to them.  And I'll make the guy who broke the line do extra drills while the others get a break.  That should keep him in line I think." Visar grudgingly gave Sandre.  "I saw a couple others that were too slow to turn with the phalanx at the last minute, and that might have cost us lives.  I'll talk to them too, and make sure they have what it takes to do better next time."

 

The day wound down.  Close to sunset, Visar called out those men who were still alright, and had them drill sudden turns for about half an hour.  That alone should give them the message that they not only had to be a cohesive unit, but they had to be able to react fast to whatever was thrown at them.  After that, Visar took aside the four "trouble" men and talked to them.  Three nodded their heads, ashamed of what they had done.  They promised they would not be a problem again, and Visar took them for their word. The fourth, however, the "hero" who broke the line, had an attitude, daring to question Visar's authority over him.  Visar frowned, hesitating only slightly.  He did not want to do this, but he could not be seen to lose his authority in front of the others.  He coldly assigned thirty lashings to the "hero", warning him that if he was ever caught leaving the line like that again, he would be dismissed from the unit and sent back where he came from in shame.  The man almost had the arrogance to protest, but accepted his punishment with honor.

 

After somberly administering the man's beating with a stinging, flexible willow branch, Visar told him to rest with the others.  With any luck, that man would sober up from this experience and not do that again.  Visar knew that however human his unit was, he needed every man of them if he was to hope to win the next battle.

 

After resting up in the village, Visar and his men left, to travel with the rest of the company pursuing a rumor about a Myrdraal nearby.  From what Visar had heard about the deadly and crafty Eyeless, he surmised that the suicidal charge those thirty or forty-some trollocs had done could have only been accomplished if they had been "linked" with a Fade.  And a Fist could be anywhere from a hundred to two hundred trollocs led by one or two Fades.  The campaign was not over; until that Fade was dealt with, even a small number of trollocs under their direction could be devastating to the countryside.  Visar glanced back at the village as he left, hoping that their next battle would keep its people safe.

[Sangreal]

Sandre watched as the young hero received his stripes. If the youth continued to fight the Blight in his life he may one day look back on this as a lesson he needed. If not then it would just be a future problem for the Kalduns. Sandre shook his head. This was the duties he felt the Tower had taken from him? Somewhere in those years his idea of destiny had changed. He no longer felt immune to the deaths of men. Hated that he had to stay back while others fought and died when he himself had now become an effective killer.

 

The village was clearing fast now that it was apparent that they were a target. The rest of the army would set off to track down the rest of the Trollocs. Already messengers were appearing with news on Trolloc movement and Tyr was readying everyone to move. They marched from the town giving them a few soldiers to escort those leaving farther from the Blight. Those would rejoin the main unit later.

[Visar Falmaien]

Most of them having recovered from their "Blooding", Visar marched with his men north, to where rumors and reports said there was almost a full fist of trollocs raiding the countryside.  Just over a day's march away...

 

For fighting a full fist, they would need close to their entire force to bear on them.  And so a few hours after the march, Sandre and Visar's unit met up with those of Tyr, A'tal, and Danz.  Combined, and almost three hundred fifty strong, they marched, confident about their chances in the next battle.

 

Hours passed, and they finally reached an old fort to camp in.  There were thousands of such forts in Shienar, most unoccupied save a warden or two to make sure the weeds did not claim them.  They eased the travel and safety of its armies when they defended their homeland, providing shelter and places to store food and other provisions.

 

As the sun set, Visar went with the others to set up camp.  They staked out a part of the perimeter, a low, stone wall, with lampstands and torches.  Even out here, no one wore a hood, and they had to have enough light in the camp to avoid the danger of shadows.  It was said that Mydraal could travel through the Shadows, and some Borderlanders that Visar had met confirmed this, but he was still doubtful.  How was that possible?  Surely these reports were exaggerations...

 

Finally, Visar turned in and went to sleep, exhausted.

----

 

The next day had him marching into a small valley where the shadowspawn were last seen.  There were trollocs here, alright, but only a couple dozen.  Some tried to stand and fight against the might of Shienaran heavy horse, but most scattered and were killed.

 

Visar stood in the ranks, nervous like most everyone else, wondering what was going on.  What were they waiting for?  Hadn't they defeated the shadowspawn here?  Visar saw Sandre ride by to join with the other leaders, a worried frown on his face.  Visar was just putting the picture together in his mind.  The reports said there was a Fist of trollocs.  More like two hundred than a mere twenty.  Where were the others?  Visar was reminded of the battle the day before.  Forty beasts charging straight at him.  Suicide.  Or a distraction to buy time?

 

Sandre rode back, his back erect, his voice urgent.  They were moving out, back to the village which was the real threat, and the infantry would march double time.  Visar gritted his teeth, knowing that marching them to death was a foolish order, but as he ran, he couldn't help but think about the villagers that left their village.  They only had a few guards with them, and wouldn't stand a chance against more than a hundred Trollocs, and maybe a Fade.

 

They ran, taking only short breaks to rest and take water and food.  They  reached the village a few hours before sun set.  Visar waited for orders.

[Sangreal]

Seeing the valley almost empty brought a feeling of dread to his stomach. There was no doubts about it now. There was a Fade involved. It was just a shame the cost there would be for them to find this out. The villagers who left had a couple days on the Trollocs. Most of the villagers left, some though stayed to repair the wall and help those still packing. The handful of guards they left behind likely could not hold the town long even with the village men helping. Almost all males had a heirloom sword and at least a good bow. They wouldnt go down without taking some with them and buying as many as they could time to hide. Still as he met with the other Commanders it was only a formality. Where were the messengers though? Always there was someone at least to warn them when a village came under attack. Also how did the Trollocs move around them so fast? If they went less than a day out of the way the scouts would find them. Sandre's conclusion was they did go a couple days out of the way but with the speed they run at it would place them in the village at this very moment.

 

They started at a double time march. He still rode with the other Commanders, planning. It would still take a day and the Trollocs would be long gone. Unless... Sandre glanced over at his 23 volunteers and his 25 cavalry. "We can double up on the cavalry for my units... get there half a day ahead of the rest of you. If we are lucky between the guards and the villagers and any city militia... they may still hold the town. With 50 more men we can certainly hold it for the next half day you will need to catch up, if they do not hold the town well... we will rest until you catch up." The others nodded in agreement and Sandre rode to his cavalry first to give them the plan and one by one they began to double mount with the volunteers. Sandre went to pick Visar up and quickly relay the plan as they set off. They would need to run the horses at a trot for a mile then walk a mile. They would rely on hiding their camp as opposed to fortifying, then if luck was on their side the town still stood when they arrived.

[Visar Falmaien]

Wisps of smoke were visible on the horizon.  As they finally came in full view of the town, Visar realized with horror that they had arrived too late.

All those people...Gone.  At least it appeared that way.

 

He looked coldly and calculating at the damage.  There were three large breaches in the palisades, and Visar could tell that fire had burned much of what was once a small village.  Now it was a virtually empty husk, smoke still wafting from debris that smoldered.

 

As a few men entered the town, Visar noticed one small consolation of hope.  The stone tower still stood.  And the borderlander flag still hung on top of it.  Could there have been any survivors?  Trollocs were not well known for having the patience for a siege.  They preferred easy targets, and moved around the hard defensible places unless otherwise motivated to do so.

 

As they assessed the damage, they discovered seven survivors, coming out from the keep.  Visar saw a few of them as he marched through the village, anger at what the enemy had done and their own failure like hot burning flames in his mind.  Their eyes were downcast and glum and they would not speak of what had happened.  They were shamed at the defeat, Visar realized.  And perhaps shamed that they, unlike the other people who had remained in the village, had survived, hiding in the tower.

 

The safety of those survivors ensured, the forces marched on, south, to find the trollocs and pay them back for what they had done.  Visar felt the hateful energy among those he marched with.  There would be no mercy to these beasts if they managed to catch them in a battle.  And Visar would not have it any other way.

[Sangreal]

Though Sandre had known there was little chance of finding survivors he still was disappointed to see the village empty. An occasional blood stain here and there. He began to look at around at the scene. The archers had held from the flimsy wooden wall and the survivors were likely archers in the tower. The Trollocs had reclaimed the arrows they fired but the wall was pockmarked where they struck. The palisades before the wall were bloodied and the wall itself had an entire section down. Likely the Trollocs charged, though some were likely killed on the palisades and the rest crawled over the bodies of the fallen, the force of all those Trollocs was too much for the flimsy wall. It appeared that the door to the tower was tested but not with much effort. Even the Trolloc dead were taken for food.

 

Scouts reported that those who fled were not pursued. They probably would have been but Sandre would have bet his sword that their camp had been spotted the night before and a Trolloc ran at full speed to get back here and tell the Fade they were coming. To hide his shame, anger, and frustration Sandre began barking orders to raise the wall back up and shore it, keep the tower door open, prepare torches for the night, set up guards and watches. The men jumped to it but still there were some standing around so he had the palisades moved and a trench three feet in front of the wall started, the dirt used to help prevent  the wall from falling backwards again by charging Trollocs. The palisades has been taken apart and set as spikes in the trench when the rest of the unit arrived that night. Only one side of the town had this so the Trollocs could easily charge from another side, but it gave the men something to keep their minds off what had happened here, what they couldnt prevent.

[Visar Falmaien]

Visar fumed, muttering to himself while he helped plant stakes in the ground for a possible assault.  Why were they wasting time fortifying a town that was already mostly destroyed?  Why weren't they going after the Light-cursed Shadowspawn this instant?  He had a mind to ask Sandre and the other leaders that very question, but he knew orders were orders.

 

Sandre was his friend, too.  No doubt he knew the reason why.  As Visar finished up, the sun almost completely set, he thought he finally knew why they had stopped.  They had already force marched to get here.  With so little time left in the day, their leaders would want their force well rested.  Visar couldn't imagine how they could fight well if they were exhausted from marching, and had run out of daylight to find shelter for the night.

 

Satisfied that at least the work had kept his mind off the horrors that must have happened to the town, Visar turned in for the night.  They were up at dawn, and ready to continue the march.  This time, their leaders seemed to have a specific direction in mind.

 

At the end of the day, they arrived at another village.  This one, to everyone's relief, was still standing, its people welcoming the soldiers to protect them from the threat of shadowspawn.  This time, Visar and the others were assigned in shifts to help watch.  Trollocs liked to attack during the night, where their eyesight was better.

 

A day went by.  No sign of the enemy.  Nothing.  Visar was bored almost to tears.  It seemed like there was nothing to do but stand around and try to come up with a better joke or riddle than the other guy.  And Visar was not very good with solving or coming up with riddles.

 

Two more days dragged on slowly.  One night, Visar was in the middle of trying to figure out a particularly vexing riddle when suddenly the alarm sounded.  Two torches lit the watchtowers on the other side of the wooden walled town.

 

"To Arms!  Trollocs are attacking!" 

 

Visar snatched up his long spear as everyone else grabbed or drew what weapons they had on hand.  And just in time, as he heard a roaring boom in the wall behind him.  The shadowspawn were trying to breach through here, too. 

 

Visar seeing he was the only unit leader around, quickly signaled everyone to form around him. He prayed the mere dozen and a half of them, not even all equipped properly with pikes, would be enough to stop whatever came through.  He bellowed at those around him.

 

"Phalanx formation! Quickly!  Spears in front, Swords on the flank, archers behind!"

 

BOOM! the wall shook.  A few brave souls were on top to either side, angling in arrows over the edge.  Visar prayed that their aim in the dark was good.  Every one trolloc that was felled by an arrow was one fewer that he had to deal with up close. Although he could not shoot a bow well enough to save his life, he was beginning to hold a deep respect for those who could.

 

BOOM!  Splinters cracked vertically along the wall, the beginnings of a hole forming.  Whatever they had was doing the job.

 

"Steady!" Visar cried, trying to ignore the fact that his legs were quivering with fear.

 

The wall shuddered three more times before cracking into a hole. Not large enough for anything man-sized to come through, but small enough to shoot an arrow through in hopes that it might do some damage.  Almost every archer behind Visar seemed to think so, wasting good shots as several missed the hole entirely.  There was a slight pause in the Booming, but it soon resumed again.

 

"Hold!  Hold your fire!  Wait till they're through or you'll waste your arrows!  Archers on the wall!" Visar called up.  "Come down it's not safe, they're almost through!"  But in the din, Visar wasn't even sure they had heard him.  Two of them hopped down and joined his ragged formation, but one did not hear, and kept loosing arrows over the edge into the unseen enemy.  Two loud Booms later, an entire section of the wall came crashing down.  Bestial snarls were followed by tall, black monsters, rushing over the wall like giant rats fleeing from a flood.

 

"Now! Fire!"  The archers let loose in a somewhat cohesive volley.  Half a dozen beasts staggered back.  A few fell.  They didn't even have time to reload before the force was right on top of them.  The small line buckled, spears darted back and forth, some hitting and drawing blood, others blocked.  It was so difficult to tell if he hit anything in the dim light.

 

"Push!" Visar screamed, before lurching forward according to how he had trained, against every other instinct that said running away made perfect sense.  He ran a trolloc through, and didn't bother yanking his spear back, drawing his sword.

 

"Push them back! Forward!"  he cried, and some in the line followed him.  Some killed, some died.  It was a brutal struggle, neither side being the least bit merciful to any that fell.  Visar ducked under one blow, rammed his blade and his body into the figure with a boar's head.  Miraculously, the beast fell and Visar remained standing.  Visar finished it off with a harsh stomp on its neck with his boot.

 

Hoofbeats.  Horses screaming.  Visar was relieved to see the enemy fall back, running back into the hole as mounted figures charged past pursuing them to the wall's edge.  Visar looked up as they came riding back, and was glad to recognize Danz as the man lifted the visor of his helmet.  Visar did the same, saluting the man who had just saved his life.  A loud horn sounded in the distance, on the other side of town.  Help was needed there.  Danz shouted an order to ride to their aide.

 

The battle won here for now, Visar and the men who survived wasted no time in forming a patch barricade on the wall, taking turns to hold tool or weapon; in some cases the two were the same.  After a few minutes, they had made an earthen wall half-way up, strengthened by plenty of timbers and rocks from nearby houses.  It would do.

 

Leaving a small watch with torches, Visar jogged wearily with a few other soldiers that were actually in his unit to where the fighting still raged.

 

 

 

[Sangreal]

Three days they waited to give those still fleeing time to get away. They left too soon last time and would not make the same mistake. Sandre hoped it was enough. The men spent their days digging and reinforcing and drilling the volunteer reserves. They reinforced the walls the best they could though they ran out of timber, the last day was spent cutting the timber and leaving it in the Tower in case they came back. They could continue the work then. Sandre spent those three days going over figures for Tyr. Sandre had a better head for it than both his uncle and cousin combined. He had not realized things had got so bad on the Shienar side of the family while the Andor side prospered. Sandre also looked into a stone wall for the borders of Kaldun lands. It would take a lifetime to build just on the side that faced the Blight on several more to covert two more sides, leaving one end of the lands open. Just the same, he started the process, set aside funds both from the house trade and his personal funds, and though his fortune would be tied up and he would almost have to start from scratch on a whole new network, he made allowances for fifty new house men at arms.

 

Weary he rose, locked the papers in a water tight chest, and walked outside and checked around to make sure no guards werent sleeping. Despite the torches and camp fires it was darker than he would have liked. He climbed the tower and looked out past the walls. He looked and did not see the torches he had ordered to be burned a hundred yards from the wall. "Where are the torches I ordered placed?" he calmly asked the guard. "Two days and no attacks General. Everyone packed to leave in the morning. Danz ordered the torches be saved." Sandre fumed. They were a nice large juicy target at the moment with helpless civilians a few more days away.

 

He stormed out of the tower in time to see the shift change on the walls. "Stay up there!" He half shouted and half growled. The archers obeyed. It wasnt their fault he was angry. He had never shown anger to the men before. A few woke up from his voice and looked around curiously. He stomped across town telling archers to get back on the walls, one archer complained about being tired and Sandre told him to sleep on the wall then but dont get off it.

 

He found Danz at the horses and made no attempt to calm himself. "You blind fool! Why are the torches not placed?! Explain to me why you went over my order?"

 

Danz took a stance as though he didnt have to take this from a young man who hadnt even served a year in the Blight yet. "Because its a waste. We leave tomorrow." Danz's face hardened as though he felt confident in his logic.

 

"Have you lost your wits Danz?! All those Trollocs have to do is go through us and they get us and the civilians! They wont get another opportunity like this! You made us a more tempting target than we will be for the rest of this bloody campaign!"

 

Danz's face relaxed. He wasnt a fool and saw the logic. "I forgot about them... I will double the guards and wake a unit up in case something gets through. Little sleep tonight."

 

Sandre took a few Cavalry and the torches and went into the night to place them. He passed Visar along the way. They got the first lit and Sandre warned the others. "If they are out there they see us lighting these. They are about to lose their golden opportunity if they dont attack now. Sandre could already see the unit Danz woke up ready if an attack did come.

 

First torch lit, nothing happened. The managed to get to their sixth torch. It seemed as though maybe Danz was right about the torches when one of the Cavalry topped from his horse, a large shafted arrow sticking out of his back. "Back to the town!" he shouted though there was hardly a need as they were already turning. The black arrows were barely visible as they whizzed by their heads. Though they could hear them, it was dangerous to run the horses in darkness like this and some of the cavalry seemed to vanish in the night. When they made it inside the gates they were at half the number that had gone out. The shout had already gone up and soldiers were dressing for battle as fast as they could. Danz waited by A'tal who had orders ready. "We are riding out the other gate. This wall will not hold. We are expecting Trollocs to be waiting for us but we have to fight our way around and break the lines of those at the walls."

 

A'tal rode out first, leading from the front. Danz a minute later and Sandre a minute after him. Each with their own units to smash through the Trollocs at one minute intervals. When Sandre rode around only a way ward Trolloc or two came near him. He slashed at them though Trollocs were tough. He wasnt sure if they died or not. There was no sign of Danz though he found that A'tals unit had been ambushed. Dead and dieing men all were all around. There wasnt a live horse in sight and the survivors were fighting for their lives. A'tal had obviously ordered Danz to go on and tried to get Sandre to do the same. Sandre stopped alongside A'tal as his men took his signal to pass through the Trollocs.

 

"I am a better foot man than you." Sandre said as he dismounted. "Take Heart and lead my Cavalry. I will get your men back to the town." He helped A'tal mount Heart and saw that his cousin was wounded. A'tal nodded and charged off with Sandre's cavalry. Sandre saw the battle was scattered, not that the men had what they needed to make a line that would hold. Sandre stepped into the fight, and Trollocs began to die....

 

*** 2 Hours later ***

 

Sandre was not sure how many were lost as the men went into town. He was only sure that they were all so covered in Trolloc blood that the stink was making them sick now that they could stop to breathe. The retreat had been slow. Sandre refused to let a single man who still breathed be left behind. Some would not be breathing long. Cheers went up every time the Cavalry went through the Trollocs. The lines were held and men were cycled from the front correctly. It was a matter of time before the Trollocs had to flee. Yet they persisted until what seemed the last. Sandre was sure a few would escape, yet the scouts after the battle was over didnt find anything. Nor did they see the Fade. Did he have more than one Fist? They had to wait for the wounded to heal enough to go on. Sandre had checked on Visar after the battle ended though Visar did not see him, he was too busy being surrounded by his men. Sandre smiled and let him have the moment.

 

*** Months later, Campaigns End ***

 

They were going home. The last of the army sang despite nine months of horror they had endured. They were a third of their original number. The Fade as it turned out had several fists. All gathering villagers and resources. Tyr had been wounded three months in and had to return home. He would not be seeing any more campaigns. A'tal had also been wounded and returned home. Not before leading them to several smashing victories. Danz had let Sandre try his hand at planning the attacks and defenses. The victories were deterrents only and werent as grand as A'tal's, but they had not lost a single man for seven straight battles. Danz had sent word back to Tyr who sent back a personal standard for Sandre. A blue banner with seven white stars, one for each battle. The entire army had grown lean and muscular. Visar and Sandre both seemed more tanned than they had ever been. Their hair had grown long and they only shaved when they had time and it wouldnt interfere with sleep.

 

The men sang "Coming Home From Tarwin's Gap" though they had not actually fought there. Only thing made a dark cloud over the accomplishment. They had not killed the Fade, nor took the enemy banner. That usually meant the best of the troops were still out there somewhere, but it was too late, winter was coming. For days on the march home Sandre brooded over this. As the sun began to set one day, they were a few miles from village they had started in. Already it was filled with stone masons, engineers, and workers to start the wall along the border of Kaldun lands. It would be thick enough for two carts to pass each other on top of it, dug deep and raised high. Larger than Sandre had planned at the start of the campaign and only on the piece of land that faced the blight, he still would not live to see its completion. His grandchildren might though.

 

It was quiet besides the men singing, eerily so. As though the world were holding its breath. It felt like before a battle to Sandre who began to look around. He saw he was not the only one unsettled. Danz was looking around too, and Visar and many other veterans. The singing stopped and only then did the men notice how quiet it was. There should have been birds and other wild life about, yet there was nothing.

 

Sandre glanced at a ridge to their left and large boulders below it. He nodded to it to Danz. "Thats where I would.." before the words were out of his mouth Trollocs appeared on the ridge and fired. Sandre was not sure what warning he shouted but not everyone reacted fast enough. Sandre turned to Danz wondering why there were no orders going out but he saw Danz's saddle empty. The horses were losing it and some riders who had been thrown were trying to get them under control. A second volley came, the infantry took it well and protected the archers but the Cavalry was almost decimated.

 

Sandre awoke on the ground to the sounds of fighting. Heart stood over him. There was an arrow in his leg and his head was bleeding. He retched when he tried to move as it felt as though the world were spinning. They were surrounded by Trollocs. Someone had made the troops form on all sides, but there were less of them to cycle out since they were surrounding the dead and wounded Cavalry. There were bodies on him and he moved them off, feeling slightly better. He stood and startled a soldier running by him. It was worse than he had thought. Some of the men were cut off from the main and were trying to fight their way back, archers peppered the ridge though the archers on the ridge continued to shoot, unconcerned if they hit Trolloc or human. Off to one side of the fighting Sandre saw the banner of the enemy and slightly away from that a Fade sat upon his horse watching. Even from a distance Sandre felt a chill.

 

Visar was alive and looking worse for wear himself. Sandre picked up his fallen banner and walked towards his friend whom upon seeing him looked surprised himself.

 

"This is a loss friend unless we can kill the Fade. I cant ride.. my leg wont be able to control the horse and Im dizzy. You will need to take the Cavalry through the lines and take the Fade after I create a distraction. I will take a few men and make a press towards the banner. When they shift their attention you ride hard and fast."

 

Sandre removed his sword from his back and tied his banner on to a discarded spear. He slipped the spear in his empty scabbard so the banner could be seen by every Trolloc on the field. He wasnt sure if it was from the bump on his head or the satisfaction of having snubbed every Trolloc on the field but he shot Visar a wide grin.

[Visar Falmaien]

Their battles seemed to blurr into each other in Visar's memory.  Savage, desperate fighting against monstrous inhuman forces.  So many good men, some much better fighters than Visar was, had already perished, and for what?  The threat of the Shadow still held its vice-like grip.  They could not seem to kill a mere Myrdraal!

 

The campaign dragged.  Visar had gone many nights without proper sleep, and it seemed to tell on him.  He withdrew into himself most of the time, not speaking unless giving or receiving orders, not sure how to truly cope with the horrors of this war.

 

They had been lucky the last seven battles, but their luck would not hold for long.  They were returning home one late afternoon, when suddenly the enemy ambushed them from a ridge to their left.  Totally unprepared, Visar could barely manage to form up a line, wincing as deadly missiles were thrown down on them.  Two arrows hit him on the chest, but his armor deflected them.  They would bruise badly, but Visar was glad to still be alive.  The enemy started coming to close ranks, and Visar found himself fighting ferociously with pike in both hands.

 

While being shifted to the back for a momentary respite, Sandre came riding up as they were slowly encircled.  He was already wounded. 

 

"This is a loss friend unless we can kill the Fade. I cant ride.. my leg wont be able to control the horse and Im dizzy. You will need to take the Cavalry through the lines and take the Fade after I create a distraction. I will take a few men and make a press towards the banner. When they shift their attention you ride hard and fast."

 

Visar nodded slowly, understanding.  It was a last ditch gamble, but if killing the Fade could disable the trolloc force attacking them, it would be their only chance at coming away from this alive.

 

“Peace Favor your Sword, Sandre,” he shouted solemnly, feeling his throat choke up at the thought of his friend dying.  Sandre and some of their remaining heavy horse made a valiant charge through the pressing ranks, and immediately the trollocs shifted their attention, allowing the circled line to make some progress. 

 

Visar dashed for a spare horse in the center, and mounted it.  “Steady there.” He said, hoping the unfamiliar mount wouldn’t toss him.  He signaled for the remaining cavalry to follow him.  Somehow they followed, even though he technically wasn’t in charge.  Visar found Danz riding by his side.

 

“We go to kill the Myrdraal.” Visar explained, and they charged through a gap in the trolloc line, racing up hill to where the Fade was standing.  They were almost upon it when it seemed to realize what was happening.  Trollocs sprang up to shield it, and Visar’s charge practically halted, hacking and stabbing its way laboriously through the fray.

 

Visar planted his pike into a trolloc and drew his sword, hacking several inches into another’s skull.  Yanking the sword out, Visar kicked his horse forward into a gap he saw.  Finally!  There was the Fade!

 

Visar didn’t want to take any chances, and so he dismounted quickly, his sword at the ready.  Looking at the Eyeless creature, Visar felt immediately paralyzed with fear.  He knew deep down in his gut that he was no match for this man-like serpent.  And one small wound…and he would be dead.

 

Others joined him, Danz and another swordsman, and three infantrymen who had followed their charge, armed with trusty pikes.  Visar fanned out, trying to circle the Fade to improve their chances, and launched a strike at it when it faced the pikes.

 

The creature lazily turned, deflecting his strike with an unnatural ease.  It turned its blade to slice up Visar’s arm, but did not cut through his armor thankfully.  As it turned towards Visar to counter, Visar dashed back, hoping its attention on him would distract it from the others.  Sure enough, a brave infantryman planted a pike right in the creature’s middle.  It turned with a gravely snarl, swinging its deadly black sword.  The haft of the pike was severed, and it fought on as if nothing had happened, slaughtering the now helpless pikeman. 

 

Another spear came hurtling towards it, but it dodged, its sword flickering out to wound with just a scratch.  The attacker clutched his arm, screaming hysterically.  Danz moved to attack, sword in hand, and Visar quickly launched himself into the fray a split second after.  Both their first strikes were parried, but the Myrdraal could not kill them both at the same time.  Its blade pounded mercilessly on Danz’s helmet even as he hacked deeply into one of its exposed legs.  Visar shouted in fury as Danz fell, dazed.  He struck even as the Fade lazily turned to strike at him.  Their swords clashed together, but Visar’s strike caught the Myrdraal’s sword on his crossguard, leveraging around to split into the creature’s unarmored head.  The thing spasmed, staggering backward.  Visar knew what happened when Myrdraal refused to die.  He kept with the creature, binding with its sword as it lashed out at an odd angle.  Taking a terrible risk, Visar snaked his arm around the blade to trap it as it was again caught on his cross, and he yanked the Thrakan’dar sword away by the Myrdraal’s crossguard.  Visar was miraculously unharmed. 

 

A final spear plunged into the creature’s head, and it dropped to the ground, though it continued to twitch.  Visar stepped away and turned, only to find himself confronted by the creature’s exact twin.

 

There were two?! he wondered, freezing in panic.  The Myrdraal advanced on him at a run, eager to avenge its fallen brethren.  Visar would not have brought his sword up in time.  He closed his eyes, praying for the end to be swift.

 

He heard a soft splash but felt no pain.  He opened his eyes.  Danz stood before him.  He had taken the Fade’s thrust into his own body. 

“Noooo!” Visar shouted in dismay, moving around the valiant Danz who had sacrificed himself.  Yet Visar barely had time to bring his sword up to block as the Eyeless creature recovered with inhuman speed.  He stepped back, and farther back, the Fade lancing out its sword with serpentine thrusts that a mere human could only dream of doing at such vicious angles.  Visar’s response became slower each time, and he knew it would soon be over.

 

The Fade burst suddenly into flames.

 

[Rasheta Ardashir]

OOC: Okay so two things, I haven't read this whole thread so i'm not exactly sure where you are or what you are doing. *laughs* So if I missed something or something isn't right let me know I will edit as many times as needed. :) Also I haven't had a chance to speak to Dante/Sandre yet so I dunno how the brothers would react to each other. So if the relationship between them is off Dante/Sandre lemme know. :) Side note...man I can't believe you are making ME take out the fade. I mean really this is the last time. *ggls*

 

 

IC: Rasheta and Dante were riding hard, she was a veteran of battles in the blight and the borderlands. They would have to stop soon and ride slower otherwise the horses would be useless in the battle they were riding too. The word was that Sandre was here and Rasheta hadn't been able to stop Dante from wanting to ride to help him. To be most effective she told Dante she needed to sleep he needed to allow her to be well rested. Using the one power always drained someone of strength and in battle, well in battle she would be using it for a long period of time. She had been allowed to sleep for at least most of the night the two nights they had been riding. Dante's anxiety over his brother however had made her wake up earlier then he had intended. She wasn't sure what the rush was, Sandre was a good man and a better warrior, from what she heard. She had traveled with him once, not that she told that to Dante. As they topped a small hill Rasheta pulled her horse to halt. She petted its neck and whispered soothingly to it. She could feel the horses sides heaving. It took Dante going most of the way down the hill before he noticed she wasn't with him. She ignored him and surveyed where they were. The hill wasn't big and she couldn't see far but what she did made her pause. She called to Dante and he came back looking around her to spot threats. She ignored him, he was doing his job as a warder she also knew that she was making herself a target but Trollocs didn't use archers mostly, so she felt mostly safe from being hit with arrows. She pointed "There is where we need to go." She reached out and pulled on Dante's reigns. "I know you are worried about your brother and when we get closer I can do more. Right now though we need to walk the horses or they will be useless to us." She added "At least for a little while." She knew it wouldn't be long before Dante wanted to run them again. She could wash the weariness of the animals away but she didn't want to kill the animals. They set out again at a pace a little faster then a walk but slow enough that the animals would be able to calm a little.

 

As they got closer to where Rasheta had seen something out of the ordinary several Trollocs sprang up. Rasheta killed two one by boiling the blood of the creature and the other got to close to her and she used a fireball. She pushed herself oneward calling lighting from the sky when she could see the greater force of the Trollocs. The Borderlands saw her and started fighting harder. She had always liked the borderlanders they respected Aes Sedai at least. She saw Sandre and his men in the middle and she pushed toward him. Before she got to close she heard cries of "The Hill Aes Sedai the Hill." Twisting in her saddle she looked toward an outcropping of boulders. A small force was making there way toward it. She kicked her horse toward it forcing a path by using fire, water, and anything else that would make a path for herself. She came to it and saw that one of the Fades was currently on the ground twitching the other had just killed a man. She cursed she wasn't in time to save him but she could save the other she jumped off Tyr and wove the weave for combust, her favorite fire weave. She settled it on the fade and "locked" it into place. As soon as she did the fade burst into flame. Instead of attacking the young man it turned toward her. She was running toward it she hadn't brought her sword with her. She cursed her idiocy and vaguely wondered where Dante was. She used boil then knowing that would do something. It fell to the ground and she stopped running. Dante appeared on his warhorse as she was making her way toward the young man, who she now knew was Visar. Before he could speak she asked him curtly. "Did either of these." She looked down at the still twitching fades. "bleed on you?" He seemed surprised and she asked again. "Did they? Or were you cut?" She glanced back at Dante who was surveying the corpses, she could also tell he was worried and she had felt his anxiety when she had made her way here. She didn't know if the feelings now were for her or his brother, she would help his brother in good time. She turned back to Visar, sighed and grabbed Visars face and delved him. He seemed to be mostly unharmed and she was grateful for that but she healed him anyway. She asked Dante "Where is your brother?"

[Sangreal]

Dante knew where the anxiety came from. He first heard about the campaign, then he heard about where Sandre and the campaign where, then he spotted the Trolloc tracks and checked a map. Sandre and the others were going to be ambushed. So late into the colds of winter, it was unlikely this was just Trollocs. Yet when there was a Fade present, all forces of the small holds like the Kalduns would band together to take it. He heard the Hastat family however was bitter towards Sandre's success in some tournament. He didnt even need to bother to check the other families. Hastat had too much influence over them. They traveled and made good time. Then a sense of urgency came over Dante. They would be late if they didnt hurry. Eldest had once known something happened to Dante when he was young. He had fallen in the river and for whatever reason Eldest had known and came to his rescue. Dante knew this is what he must have felt.

 

When they arrived the fighting had already started and Rasheta became a big target. It was all he could do was to circle around her, slashing faster than he had before. Going full offense just to keep her protected. They took the hill and with both Fades down a large number of Trollocs died. He wanted to charge off to help his brother whom he saw in the middle of that fight but duty kept him at Rasheta's side.

 

***

 

Charging behind riderless horses stampeding through the Trollocs Sandre and a few others charged the banners to buy Visar a distraction. Sandre was on point, his bastard sword killing one and maiming another with every swing. Swords bounced off his masterwork armor, thicker and made of stronger steel than most armors, or even swords were made of. He saw the banner but he was paying for every single inch towards it with his own energy and blood. His soldiers he had chosen were supposed to be right behind him. Yet they seemed lost, and him very much alone. Perhaps he would die here, every time it seemed he would be dealt that fatal blow however he moved faster, hit harder. He wanted to see Edana again... was that selfish that he could only fight this hard to see her? The Trollocs guarding the one with the banner seemed as though they would be the ones to kill him. Blades were moving so fast that any Trolloc not in this fight that was foolish enough to intervene was cut down by their own as often as Sandre. He was bleeding and his head was pounding. A stumble knocked him backwards as one of the two he fought impaled itself on his blade. The other seemed as though it would kill him while his sword was trapped but a kick to its knee made the creature collapse. Sandre got up, the one with the broken knee did not. It was a less than graceful death for that one.

 

The Trolloc with the banner barely had time to try and pull its weapon before his head flew over the heads of its brothers. Banner stick and Trolloc cut down on one strike. Trollocs around him began to die. Visar had obviously got the Fade. The remaining numbers seemed unsure of what to do next but Sandre cleared a space around himself and held the severed banner in his left hand. "Take it if you want it!" he shouted to them. Two more moved and were cut down. Then the Trollocs began to run and a cheer went up from the main body of the army. Sandre had to fight and dodge hard not to be trampled under fleeing Trollocs and many Trollocs were not so lucky. They charged right into Visar and the cavalry and in a moment of confusion that cost them lives as they were pressed between the cavalry and the infantry they had to quickly turn and move towards the gap, others that broke away from the main body were brought down in arrows and the cavalry would not need long to make work of those that fled. Some stayed and fought for their lives and died to infantry and archers. A sharp lesson was taught to these ones.

 

When it was done Sandre collapsed back against the stacked bodies of two Trollocs exhausted and dizzy. In a moment of looking up he saw Dante standing over him. Visar and Rasheta Sedai were a short ways away talking. Dante only nodded. Sandre nodded back. "I knew you could come."

[Visar Falmaien]

Rasheta Sedai rode up, probably the last person that Visar had expected to see. He was still trying to process what had just happened.  There had been a Fade, and then another Fade, and then that one had fallen too it seemed.  And how was it that he was practically unharmed?

 

The battle continued briefly in the distance, but with the Trolloc's leaders down, they themselves suddenly no longer provided any stiff resistance.  Most fled; others fought on but were dispatched with more ease than before. 

 

Rasheta laid her hands on him, and a shuddering cold washed through him like a freshly thawed stream in the spring.  Healing, then.  He wanted to thank her, but words would not come.  A wave of dizziness soon followed, and Visar sat wearily to the ground.  Nearby, the body of Danz lay motionless, his darkened, drying life's blood lying in a small puddle underneath him.  The old Master of Arms had given his life for Visar.  Or at least it had seemed that way.  Why else would he have sprung forth so recklessly to engage the second Fade?  But Visar still didn't understand why the man had done it.  He didn't deserve to live.  There were dozens of brave men who had fought better and more valiantly than he.  Why did he deserve to live?

 

Realizing that living people were still around him, Visar was surprised to find tears dripping down his cheeks.  He angrily wiped them away with a bloody sleeve and made an effort to stand.  He should not sit down and rest while everyone else was still fighting, should he?

 

Rasheta stood nearby, with Dante nearby, as if waiting for him to say something.  Visar trudged to where she was standing, and did his best to bow.  In his post-battle and healing weariness, he almost fell on the ground in the attempt, but managed to pull himself back up.

 

"Th-thhank you, Rasheta S-Sedai.  I uh, owe you m-my life, and we all-l owe you a great d-debt for this victory.  Thank you..."

 

Visar shut his mouth.  Saying thank you again and again did not even seem to do the thought justice.  Not from his stuttering tongue at least.  Glancing away from Rasheta's calm, studying gaze, Visar saw Dante stride over to help a soldier.  After they came back, Visar recognized Sandre.  He smiled.  So the brothers were re-united after all.

 

But it was a bittersweet reunion.  Many Shienarans, and Andorans too, lay dead and wounded here, their blood the precious price paid for defeating the enemy.  And Danz...  Visar had to force himself to look away from the corpse who had once been a mighty warrior.

 

"I think I've seen enough of this..." Visar mumbled.  Rasheta asked him to explain what he meant.

 

"I used to dream of leading men into battles like this.  I thought it would be glorious, even fun.  After only a year... I'm going back.  Back to the Tower.  Back where things seemed simpler."

 

Visar nodded, his decision made. He felt cowardly, but he didn't think he was suited for this never-winning battle.  Sooner or later it would break him in mind or body, and quitting now meant he could avoid that fate.  If only for a while. If Rasheta did not mind, he meant to return to the White Tower with her as soon as everything was taken care of here.  Even If Sandre wanted to stay.  Though why any sane man would... It was too much for Visar to comprehend. 

 

Back at the Tower, surely he could be of more use than here, where he couldn't seem to keep from crying every time someone he knew died.

[Rasheta Ardashir]

Rasheta had healed Visar and followed Dante looking for his brother. One of the borderlander generals was following her around. She gave him orders, "Get your men on there horses and moving as soon as possible. Bring me the men who can't ride I will heal them." She paused and said "Or bring me to them I will heal them. First I must find my warders brother or he will never forgive me." She shooed the man away from her and picked her way through the battle field, healing those she saw along the way that needed it.

 

It wasn't long before she saw Dante stop and nod at someone on the ground. She turned however when Visar sat down heavily behind her. She was surprised to see tears in his eyes. She looked back at Dante for a moment knowing he would never forgive her if she didn't heal his brother. She sighed inwardly and told herself if his brother was fatally wounded Dante would come for her. She turned her attention to Visar, "What is wrong?" She asked carefully. Surprised he thanked her first for the victory.

 

"Th-thhank you, Rasheta S-Sedai.  I uh, owe you m-my life, and we all-l owe you a great d-debt for this victory.  Thank you..."

 

Rasheta shook her head the victory was not her's she had just helped a little. The reason she was here in the first place was because of Dante and how much he loved his brother. If Sandre hadn't been here she wouldn't have come out here and the battle wouldn't have been won, or maybe it would have. Someone had killed the first Fade she had only done a little. She was going to say something close to it when Visar continued. Visar's gaze flicked over her shoulder and she turned her head a little to see Dante helping Sandre to where she was. She pointed to a clear spot and Dante set his brother down. Her attention shifted when Visar continued speaking.

 

 

"I used to dream of leading men into battles like this.  I thought it would be glorious, even fun.  After only a year... I'm going back.  Back to the Tower.  Back where things seemed simpler."

 

Rasheta touched Visar's shoulder and knelt down so she was eye level with him. "All men dream of such things, in time you learn that battle is not about glory but about survival. Kill or be killed is something my first Warder told me once when he described the different battles we had been in. You can't blame yourself for the deaths here today. I have guilt that I was not quick enough to kill both of the Fades before one killed a man but I cannot let that get to me. If it did I would be a White who never left the tower instead of a Green who fights to keep the peace in the world. You will learn all this later. Till then I think its wise for you to go back to the tower. However, I have things yet to do so I cannot take you." She glanced back at Dante. He wasn't looking at her he was speaking with his brother she stood and squeezed Visar's shoulder. "Stay seated for now I healed you and it will probably make you tired and hungry soon you should eat and sleep. Although not till after we get away from here." She turned toward Dante and Sandre. She walked to them and shook her head.

 

"Well you look a mess how many Trollocs did you allow to stab you? I thought you were a better warrior then that." She teased him. She knelt down in front of Sandre smiling. He didn't seem surprised to see her. She told Dante gently "Don't worry my warder he will be fine. Go and find our horses we need to get away from here quickly." She reached out and took Sandres face in her hands and preformed healing again. He shuddered as she knew he would. "You will be fine now. Your brother makes a good warder you should be proud. Although he was so very worried about you." She smiled at him and stood up. She saw a short distance away the soldiers were bringing the most terribly wounded men she knew that duty called.  

 

"We have the men who are in need of your care ready Aes Sedai." One of the soldiers told her. She nodded and followed him before she was done healing she realized how tired she was. She stood up and almost fell over again, it had been a long time since she had to use the power so much. It was taking a toll. Dante materialized at her side she hugged him allowing his strength to flow into her. She took several deep breaths, she still had work to do. She knew that Dante loved her and this surprised him. "Don't leave me." She whispered. "I may fall over soon from the use of the power. I need you to catch me if I do." She straightened up and saw Visar and Sandre with him as well. "So are you both headed back to the tower? What were you both doing here?" She knelt down next to the next man needing healing and did so. She swayed as she stood up but moved on as Visar and Sandre filled her in on the story. Dante was worried at her elbow and helped her stand and caught her around the middle to keep her from falling down once. She thanked him and rested a few moments drinking some water and they gave her some food. She went back to healing after that. Visar and Sandre said they would be ready to leave this place soon and she could go and find a warm bed and sleep for days.

 

[Liitha]

bump