|
" Wake up, Mat." The voice was gentle but firm, and Mat slowly woke. He propped himself up on his arms, and looked around. He was bare chested and he needed a shirt.
"Who are... Davram?" Mat was incredulous, and he started out of bed. Realizing he was only in smallclothes, he began walking around the room dressing. The only thing he had other than his smallclothes was his foxhead medallion. After he had finished dressing, he turned back to Davram Bashere.
The man was standing calmly, looking at Mat with an attentive eye. He wasn't a very tall man, but he made up for his height for his presence. Mat was constantly in awe of the man.
" What is happening? How did you get here?" Davram put a finger to Mat's lip to quiet him, and whispered softly.
" A Trolloc army entered into Tarwin's Gap two days ago. They have been moving down into Shienar since then. Agelmar Jagad and the other Borderlanders in Caemlyn are mobilized, but they agreed to wait for me. We need you there, too. We have perhaps two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers, but the Trollocs must number at least seven hundred thousand." Mat nodded thoughtfully.
" Why wasn't an army ready to hold the pass? Why were they in Caemlyn, of all places?" Davram nodded impatiently.
" I know. It was some bad planning by the Borderland leaders. Neverthelesss, we're needed. Pack up, your rest has ended." Mat was doing just that. He had stuffed most of his travel items into two bags already, and was putting on his hat and scarf. He picked up his ashandarei last, pausing a moment before closing his hand around it.
War seemed to follow Mat. He was drawn to battles, or battles were drawn to him. He didn't know which one this situation qualified as, but the battle would regardless be his.
" Between you, me, and Agelmar Jagad, who has the supreme command?" It was a valid question. Mat wanted the command for himself. He never wanted things to be completely out of his hands. Still, Agelmar Jagad knew the territory more than him and Davram did together, and the man who knew the land won the war.
" Agelmar will have command of the center, and command overall. You will take the right flank, which will be mostly cavalry for offense. I will command the left flank, which will be mostly defensive work." Davram handed a small piece of paper to Mat. It was a detailed but small map of an area Mat didn't recognize. However, he could guess that it was Shienar. There was a long red line across the map, and several black arrows pointing toward it.
" The red line will be our battle line. The black arrows are Trollocs, one hundred thousand to each arrow. Learn the land. You'll need it." Mat nodded, and perused the map quickly.
" The archers go in this hollow?" He pointed to a slight depression in the land, which could be surrounded by pikes. Davram nodded.
" So this would be my flank. How many men?" Davram motioned with his hand, and scratched his head.
" Maybe seventy thousand? I know most of Agelmar's troops are going to the center." Mat looked at the line carefully, and nodded.
" Are we going to have any channellers with us? I'd say to fight an army this size we would need at least a hundred channellers."
" We can probably pick up around a hundred from the Black Tower. They got back from a major operation at the White Tower, so they have three hundred ready men." Mat looked quickly over the map and the paths of the Trolloc armies.
" Will they be coming at us in waves, or with all their strength together?"
" We can't be sure. We think they will attack with a main drive against my flank, with a distraction force of two hundred thousand attacking the center." The plan was as simple as it could be, not including a full frontal assault. Then again, since when have Trollocs been brilliant captains. The Trollocs, if they didn't have nearly three times the Borderlanders numbers, would have been torn apart at the first charge. Mat snorted with derision.
" It's pathetic. Their battle plan probably took three seconds to make, yet they have enough of a sheer numerical advantage that they can probably break through our lines."
" How many siege weapons do we have? Catapults would be great if the Trollocs were packed together and they were hit by showers of rocks. You know that channellers can make the rocks explode? That would be perfect." Davram nodded, and gestured outside.
" We'll have more time to discuss strategy with Agelmar. We're going to Caemlyn. I brought along a few of my own Asha'man, which was how I got here. As for catapults, we might have as many as a hundred. Mat nodded, but couldn't help noting that one hundred catapults wouldn't really make a difference against half the number of Trollocs they were going to face.
***
Mat sat in a cold room, looking at the men around him. To his right was Davram Bashere, the General of Saldea. To his left was Agelmar Jagad, who was in command of the army and was the General of Shienar. They were all looking at a massive map spread out across the table, showing even the smallest detail of the land where they would be fighting. Small crevices, tiny elevations in the land, and the smallest hills were all shown. Mat couldn't guess how long it had taken them to draw this map.
" I can't fight of five hundred thousand Trollocs with eighty thousand men! The plan is near impossible as it is, but it hinges on my being able to defend against the largest army of Trollocs seen since the Wars!" Bashere was pointing to the five large black arrows that were moving in on his command, which numbered eighty thousand.
" You have to. I'm holding the center with one hundred thousand. We need one point to look like it's weak, so the Trollocs will attack there and we can close the trap on them. You have the left flank, and because it's against the side of these mountains we only have the back and the right flank to close in on them." Agelmar Jagad was a stolid man, and was among the great captains of the world.
The great captains of the world; Mat supposed he was actually one of them now. Gareth Bryne, the former leader of Andor's armies, had been one. He was a bull on the battlefield, as his sigil suggested, and he was an excellent organizer. Agelmar Jagad and Davram Bashere were also great captains, the harsh lands and conditions where they came from had bred harsh and capable men. The fourth, Rodel Iturlade, had been in Arad Doman. No one was quite sure if he was living. The last, and now former, great captain was Pedron Niall. Mat had heard he was assassinated.
" Come on, Davram. My command is only seventy thousand!" Mat laughed, and continued. " If you place your archers on the mountain, and your men in a line here, you can hold for at least an hour." Davram examined the viability of the suggestion, and nodded.
" It is possible. But Agelmar, I still say you need to take up some more of the burden. If you swing your troops around to close the Trollocs in, we might be able to defeat them immediately." Agelmar looked at the map, and disagreed.
" But there will probably be two hundred thousand Trollocs coming at my center. What happens when I move my troops? Besides, the two hundred thousand will probably be closer to three. We got a new estimate from the front, and it's eight hundred thousand." The men at the table groaned collectively, and they all rubbed their faces. Mat was rubbing his hand across his ashandarei.
" I suppose, if I wasn't needed to close the trap on the left flank I could defend the center." Mat rubbed his jaw, and idly began thumbing the blade of his weapon. He looked at the map, and nodded.
" Agelmar, if you're going to fill in the gaps in Davram's plan and end the main Trolloc attack, I think I can hold the line." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. He nodded.
" I'd need almost all the channellers, though. At least seventy. And I'd need twenty catapults." Agelmar nodded.
" Is there any way to ensure that the Trollocs will fall into the trap? It wouldn't be good if all of them came down on Mat's head." Mat knew the perfect solution. It was something he had learned long ago.
" Trollocs are afraid of fire. If you fire the catapults at their flanks, you can probably turn most of them into your trap." Agelmar nodded again. The meeting was dragging into the morning. One of Agelmar's cavalry commanders, Vondarion, was nodding off. The man had a tight grip on his sword, and his other was resting on his portly belly. Mat could tell the man was probably a noble, forced on Agelmar by the King. The King had probably given him the man because he was an incompetant at court.
Mat began nodding off, also. The meeting was winding down, and the commanders were finalizing details and demanding more troops. All the requests for additional troops were fielded by Agelmar, but he couldn't give any more to the commanders. Mat sighed and began to fall to sleep.
***
The battle lines were assembling in the morning, and Mat was miserable. The rains were heavy, and it was muddy and wet. The horses were having some troubles with the mud, as were the long supply trains needed to feed the massive army. Mat wondered where the Trollocs were getting their food, but he didn't want to think about it. Trollocs ate people. Mat was continually planning in his mind.
Sitting upon Pips, he surveyed the terrain and looked across the plains. He could see the morning fog, and he could imagine eight hundred thousand Trollocs thundering through the mists and pounding across the plain to collide with the two lines. The results, Mat knew, wouldn't be great. He jumped off his horse to begin his inspection of the troops. It was discreet and quiet.
Under his command were a hundred Asha'man and eighty thousand men. There had been some small additions to the army, and they had all been transferred to Mat's command. It was reasoned he needed it the most, because he would be fighting against three to one odds, while the others would be fighting a little worse than two to one odds. The morning's rains were only a faint fraction of the tears that would be shed over this day. Mat knew that it would fall in history as one of the greatest tragedies of the world. Of course, if Rand broke the world Mat wouldn't need to worry about how history saw him.
He saw the bowmen stringing their bows. They shot a few practice arrows, which flew to about midway down the plain. Their commander nodded, and they sat down and prepared for the battle ahead. Several nocked arrows to their bows and stood alert.
Mat walked across to the footmen; most of them were sharpening their swords or pikes. Mat believed the swords would actually be more important in the coming battle. Pikes were excellent for battling horsemen, but the upcoming battle would be almost entirely with Trollocs. A few Myrddraal here and there, yes, but the battle would be with Trollocs.
Mat walked toward the catapults in the back. They were of assorted sizes, some were only as tall as he was, while others towered up into the sky for ten spans. The largest of them, the one the men called the Creator's Sling, was in the center of the line. It could fling a rock across the entire plain, and then some. Mat looked out toward the mist. The Trollocs would be coming soon.
The sound of horse hooves pounding wet ground, and the sloshing sound of its hooves getting stuck in the mud also sounded. Mat turned around, and saw Agelmar riding up toward him. He shot a cursory glance at the lines and the men, and he turned to Mat. Mat inclined his head a little, a show of respect. Agelmar returned the gesture, and looked out to where Mat had just been looking.
" Are you ready? The Trollocs are coming." Mat nodded, and squinted into the sunlight.
" Do you ever wonder what the people you know are doing? Not the soldiers, the normal people? I think sometimes of my friends, my friends from Emond's Field. All of them have changed so much. Rand, obviously, and Egwene is the Amyrlin. Nynaeve is as pushy as ever, but she's Aes Sedai now. Some of the people I knew are dead, or gone. I haven't talked to Thom in such a long time." Mat sighed. With his attitude, maybe he would even miss Moiraine!
He was surprised to think of it, but he did. She had been manipulative, and secretive, but she was probably the most open Aes Sedai he knew. Rand had told him something of what Moiraine had told him, enough of the critical points. He knew that he couldn't trust Aes Sedai before, but even Moiraine had told them not to. That was amazing. Now, when he saw Verin or Cadsuane or even Nynaeve, he grew suspicious. The Light help him, he was becoming suspicious of Nynaeve! He couldn't say he loved her like a sister, but she was from Emond's Field! A good, plain Two Rivers woman. Being on the outside of the world was like a sickness, sometimes, a sickness of distrust and hate and misery. Mat was missing home already.
Mat's hand tightened on his ashandarei when he heard a hissing sound. Agelmar wheeled his horse around, and galloped toward his lines. Mat looked toward the mists. Trollocs were charging through the droplets of water hanging on the air, and Mat could see that the number of Trollocs was amazing. They broke through the mist entirely, thousands upon thousands. Normally, Mat could get a quick estimate, but the flow of Trollocs didn't stop. He heard another hiss, and a volley of arrows fired out. They were fire arrows, and hit the Trolloc lines solidly.
The hairy, mutated bodies of the Trollocs fell and hit the ground. The other Trollocs ran right over them, pounding them into pulp with their heavy feet or hooves. The plain was bloody already. The Asha'man were evenly divided between the catapults and the front lines. When the catapults finally let loose, nearly one hundred large stones hit the ground and exploded. Tall blooms of flame shot out into the sky, and the fires engulfed the Trollocs by the hundreds. The Asha'man began to channel, and it was quick and brutal. They didn't have any time for elaborate weaves.
Waves of fire and flashes of lightning shot into the massive lines of Trollocs, lashing out again and again and ripping the hordes apart. Yet they still continued, and their casualties were nothing to them. The Asha'man continued channeling, and the ground before the Trollocs rose in a massive fire. Explosions sounded across the line of fire, and shrapnel and rocks flew around and ripped into Trollocs. A line of fire formed across the plain, and many of the Trollocs were diverted and were running into the left flank. But it wasn't enough. The plan wasn't working perfectly.
Half of them were running straight toward Mat's command. He could see their twisted faces as they got closer, and their black swords. They waved them in the air and screamed as they collided with Mat's lines.
" Hold!" He managed to scream the word before he was engulfed in battle. He met with one Trolloc in the field. The monstrosity was horrendous, with an eagle's beak and a goat's horns. Its arms were bulging with corded muscles, but its legs were misshapen and twisted. Mat's blade met its Thrakandar forged sword twice, and then three more times. The beast was very nimble. Mat's blade sunk into its chest on the sixth try, though, and two arrows immediately sliced through its head. One of them came close enough that it grazed Mat's hair.
Not pausing to worry which side had shot the arrows, Mat ran forward. Mud now stained his clothing, and some of the stains on his breeches were red. People fell down, stabbed in the chest, the head, the neck, the stomach, the arm, the leg, everywhere. The battle was hideous. Two more Trollocs came at Mat, and he spun his weapon like a quarterstaff. The blade end sliced through one of them at the chest level, and the solid end cracked into the other's shoulder. His sword fell from his hand, and he didn't have time to react before Mat took his head off.
***
Birgitte watched as the lines shifted. Her men were doing pretty well under heavy Trolloc pressure. She paused from watching the entire field to pick out a target and fire. The arrow sliced through the air and took a Myrddraal back to the Pit of Doom. Birgitte nodded in satisfaction as the Trollocs putting pressure on the line suddenly screamed. Well, at least about a hundred of them did. They fell to their knees or turned on their own brothers, going berserk with the sword. It was sick to watch. Birgitte lowered her bow and continued to watch the line as it began to break. Her face registered horror as she saw a break in the lines, and she hefted her bow.
A man standing next to Mat panicked and screamed. Unfortunately, he called attention on himself. It wasn't pleasant attention. A Trolloc's blade hit him at the elbow, and his arm went flying. His screams grew more stringent, and the Trolloc was lifting his arm for a killer blow. Mat whipped his staff around, and it responded like a living creature. It moved faster than the eye and hit the Trolloc at the temple with the wooden end. The Trolloc's head caved in and the skull cracked. The Trolloc fell, lifeless.
Mat grabbed the amputated man's other arm and hauled him over to the Asha'man. Some of the channellers were beginning to sweat heavily and there was as much blood and mud on them as on everyone else.
" Can someone here heal?" He shoved the armless man over to them. One of the Asha'man looked at Mat in a moment of panic, and grabbed the man. Mat couldn't see what happened with the Power, but the arm seemed to knit together and the blood stopped dripping from it. The rain was pounding heavily now, and everyone was soaked.
Mat ran out back to the battle, having cared for the man. Almost immediately upon leaving the small sphere of safety that surrounded the Asha'man, he was set upon by two Fades. He had a moment of panic, as he tried to react. Two black blades came crashing down. Only instinct saved him; his ashandarei was raised and it had blocked both blades. He shoved with it, and one of the Myrrdraal actually stumbled. Mat didn't wait. He quickly sliced at the half man, opening two deep wounds in his chest and cutting the long muscles in its legs. It wouldn't be moving much now. Still, it thrashed on the ground in its death throes.
Mat had almost forgotten about the other Myrddraal. Its cut grazed his long sleeve, and it only missed his wrist by an inch. He quickly pivoted and put an end to the Myrddraal. Its head flopped along the wet ground, and began to sink in the mud. Mat looked around to see the state of the battle. It was horrible.
A large vat of oil had been spilled across the Trollocs when they first hit the line, and fire arrows had fallen on it. The blaze was rampant in the center of the line, and many other small fires dotted the line. Mat could see the lines were holding pretty well, but it looked like hell on the front. Men were dying and bleeding everywhere, and horses were running loose. He needed Pips. He ran about the battlefield for a while, but he finally found his horse.
He mounted quickly, and neglected the stirrups. He dug his heels in the horse's sides and ran into the front lines.
" Rally to me! Cavalry form up and advance. Cut the bloody Trollocs into bloody pieces!" He spurred his horse forward again, and plunged into a pocket of Trollocs. His spinning ashandarei cut through five of them instantly, and he was clear of them. He was ripping his way into the lines, and his heartened horsemen were following him. His blade was flashing, spinning death, and dozens of Trollocs fell to it. Blood seemed to cloud and spurt around his horse as he killed Trolloc after Trolloc.
A cluster of five Fades was also in his path, and he shredded them rapidly. The black blood was flying in the air, but he tried not to catch any of it on him or his clothing. The five bodies thrashed and seizured and threw their horses into a panic. The black beasts died as the Myrddraal clawed at their throats.
Mat drove deeper into the lines, and some horsemen managed to join him. They hacked right and left with their swords, preventing the Trollocs from collapsing in on him. He cut through the front lines of the Trollocs, knocking them down and trampling them as often as he sliced their heads off or stabbed them.
The pikes were now the more important of the foot commands; they steadily herded the Trollocs back as the Trolloc's front lines collapsed. Mat couldn't guess his casualties, but he knew they would be stunning. Probably over a third of his command had died in the battle, and it was still going on. It was the most horrible thing he had ever experienced. Still, he kept Pips at a charge and his blade was continually spinning into the Trolloc troops. Finally, they broke and began to retreat. The arrows and catapults, not to mention the Asha'man, gave them cause to run faster.
The Asha'man especially gave them cause to run. Mat saw a truly sickening thing happen. The Trollocs began to explode. Bits of bone and organ would fly out, along with masses of blood and flesh. The entire lines of Trollocs began to explode. Thousands were torn to shreds by the Asha'man's channeling. Mat gagged and emptied his stomach, as did many of the troops. The vomit only added to the mud and blood, and when the soldiers saw it they retched again.
Mat threw his head up for a pause, and saw that Agelmar's and Davram's commands were still engaged in the fight. Mat signaled to his corps to form up. The remaining troops quickly rallied; they were organized and well trained. Mat signaled for the advance, and the remaining fifty thousand men marched toward the left flank. Mat led the cavalry personally. They charged into the Trolloc masses, and the madness continued again.
***
Birgitte loosed arrows as fast as she could nock them and let loose. Dozens of arrows were fired from her bow every few minutes, and almost all of them found their mark. She saved most of her arrows for Fades, not for Trollocs. If she was going to hit nearly every time, she was going to hit Fades. Killing one Fade took a hundred Trollocs out of the battle anyway. Birgitte aimed and let loose another shaft. If found its target, right between a Myrddraal's empty eye sockets. Birgitte gritted her teeth and picked out another arrow.
Mat charged into the back of the Trolloc line. Unfortunately, most of the Myrddraal were there. About twenty horsemen with swords, along with him, were suddenly surrounded by fifty Myrddraal. His blade flashed and spun as he hacked through his first Myrddraal. As he was riding to his second, he was hit by something and he fell of his horse. He was stunned at first, and shocked. He had no feeling in his shoulder. He pounded his fist to his shoulder, and then he could feel it again dully.
He picked up his ashandarei, and threw the reins to his horse to one of his reliable men.
" Hold that for me!" Mat dived back into the Fades. He met the first one, who was on a horse. He pulled one of the knives he kept on him, and threw it where the Fade's eyes should have been. When the half man ducked, the blade only grazed the side of his head. The force of the blow was enough to throw him off his horse. Mat laughed.
" Now we're on even footing." The Fade glided toward him with stunning speed, his sword flashing. Mat's blade met it, and blue sparks showered across the field. Mat twisted his blade sharply, and the other end of his weapon hit the Fade in its head wound. It stumbled, and Mat made a quick series of cuts to both legs, both arms, the neck, and the chest. The Fade, now lacking a head, arms, and legs, fell in the mud and thrashed about. Its black blood was almost invisible against the dark brown or black mud.
Mat's horsemen had broken through. The Trolloc line was falling back. At least, that was how it looked at first. Before Mat could utter a warning, the Trollocs suddenly seemed to fall back on the horsemen in a mad rush. The onslaught of Trollocs flooded over Mat's troops. Meanwhile, the Trollocs began to stream over a line of infantry on the other side of the line. Not surprisingly to Mat, it appeared to be under the command of Vondarion. The man was shouting something when a Fade came up with a black sword and struck his arm clean off. His words changed to a scream for a split second before the Fade removed his mouth with the rest of his head. Three arrows shot out into the Fade, taking vengeance.
It stood transfixed for a second, and then fell to the muddy ground. Several Trollocs around it went mad, screaming and cutting into their own lines. They had to be put down by Myrddraal and Trollocs working together. In fact, the Trollocs were almost spent. Many Myrddraal were dying, and with them their fists were falling into disorder and insanity. It was like Warders and their bonds to Aes Sedai. They went mad when they were cut.
The Asha'man under Mat's commmand reached them along with the rest of the infantry. Great waving flames cut into the hordes, and lightning crashed down from above. More Trollocs exploded, and their blood was added to the flows already crossing the field. Mat felt something smash into him, and he fell to the ground. He looked up and saw a horse screaming, riderless.
He jumped up on it, and tried to cut his way to the other side. It wasn't particularly hard. He waited for fire or lightning to clear the way, then he ran. He reached the other side and found Davram.
" What happened? Blood and bloody ashes, my troops are tired!" Davram's face was harried and his eyes were shrunken.
" It's been the Pit of Doom since the Trollocs hit the lines! They've broken through three times, and I had to send my cavalry to clean them up. The last time they hit the line in a charge, the cavalry ran in to fill the gaps. They were trapped, and most of my horsemen are dead! My archers are almost out of arrows, and I haven't seen Agelmar in an hour!" Mat looked around hurriedly, and continued.
" I think my pikes can push the Trollocs into a tight squeeze! If we get them really close together, the Asha'man can burn them out with lightning and fire!" Bashere thought for a moment, and nodded hurriedly.
" I'll pass the orders to whoever is left of my Asha'man! Go! Go! Go!" Mat charged through the Trolloc lines again. This time, it was insanely difficult. The Trollocs weren't being cut through with lightning on this side, and he had to fight his way halfway through before he got clear.
He relayed the orders to the Asha'man, and they agreed quickly. His pikes formed up for the final advance. They formed a united front against the Trollocs, and cut clear through into their lines. They pushed them into a tighter and tighter squeeze. The plan was working.
Chaos broke loose when the lightning began to fall. Fires were ignited among the Trolloc hordes, and they grew mad with panic. The pressure was to great, and the lines broke on Agelmar's side. His pikemen were swept aside as the Trollocs flew out of a gap in the lines, and they retreated across the field. The Asha'man were too exhausted to channel, and the bowmen were all out of arrows. Several of the channellers collapsed, and many were on their knees panting. Mat looked out across the field toward the mists. They covered the retreat of the Trollocs. Mat sighed heavily, and with deep regret he hefted his blade and rode back to the lines. The world was safe for another day.
|