Black Flood: Tales of the Trolloc Wars Chapter 1: Reinforcements, a wheel of time fanfic

The Wheel of Time and all its characters is owned and trademarked by Robert Jordan and Tor. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and not intended for monetary gain.

פּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּפּצּ

Prologue

1032 years After the Breaking, waves of Shadospawns stormed out from the Blasted Land, lead by vengeful Myyrdraal and Dreadlords to raze the Land. The nations of the Covenant stood against this inundation: Coremanda, Aelgar, Almoren, Aramaelle, Aridhol, Eharon, Essenia, Jaramide, Safer, and Manetheren. Heroes of tragedy and destiny collided with the Dark One's forces. One of the most notable group of those heroes was the Band of the Red Hand, the Sword that could not be Broken. Memories still linger of those men of courage and vigor, chronicled in the Ballad of the Band...

"The Old Blood sings of a mighty Band,
The infamous guardians of the Land.
The Dark One 'self felt the bite of the Thorn,
The bravest souls whom ever born.
Forever live those bold Red Hand!"

Chapter One: Reinforcements

Sergeant Stef Reimos tugged at his red cloak, pulling it closer. He shivered, and wrapped it tightly around his body in an effort to cut out the wind. He was always cold nowadays. The air froze his lungs when he inhaled and came out in a thick steam. He plunged through the high but mostly trampled snow along with the rest of Eldrene's Company.

His exposed face felt scarred from the harsh dry winds, and wished for a thicker cloak and better boots. He walked mechanically; the long monotonous snowdrifts remained the same for miles, as the snake of soldiers marched through. He watched the back of the soldier walking before him, the blood red hand stitched to that faded cloak claiming his vision.

The only sound was the cracking of snow being trampled beneath and the howling winds. Like most, he had long stopped talking, with each voice drawing more cold air into his already frozen lungs.

Stef Reimos wished for the warm hearth of the Mafel Dadaranell Keep where the company had stayed a few days ago... was it days? Weeks? How long has it been? How much time has passed since the company had left Manetheren? The snow swallowed time as much as heat. All he could remember were long days of cold march, sometimes a warm fire in a town or city, more often sleeping covered in cloak and the issued blanket.

Eldrene's Company had been sent north to reinforce the main Band, especially with much of the latter's numbers chiseled down by sword and cold. Like many companies, it was named after a guardian of Manetheren: Queen Eldrene, the beautiful Rose of the Sun. Since the Trolloc Wars had begun, the main body of the Band of Red Hand had taken up residence in northern Aramaelle, where it could do the most damage and the most good, and occasionally revitalized by new bodies like Eldrene's from the Mountain Home when their numbers begin to dwindle dangerously.

Reimos took an appraisal of the land, and saw the black Mountains of Dhorom etching the sky around of the company. The company had just entered the vast mountain range named after the famed Sentinel Dhorom, stretching from the Aryth coast of Saldaea east to the Spine of the World.

A faint but clear note from a horn far ahead shattered the silence, its blast drawing Reimos immediately to attention. A second note followed quickly.

"Trouble?" A foot soldier asked. Reimos placed the voice to a young recruit, Cordin Brogan, part of his squad, who had recently joined before the Company had left for the North.

"Something like that. The pickets ran into spawns." Reimos said.

"If it's a full host, we'll going to be boiling in a pot tonight." A soldier beside him muttered.

"Than we'd better kill them first, eh, Tayren?" Stef drew his sword out from his red-stained leather scabbard and hefted its weight in his arm.

Orders rippled through the line of men, and the soldiers began to split into defensive formation, infantry forming up at the perimeter with archers jostling for position.

"My squad with me!" Reimos shouted over the voices of others and plunged through the snow towards the edge. As he reached the perimeter, he could see the rapidly approaching shapes of the scouts racing towards the safety of the main body. Behind them appeared the hulking and unmistakable figures of Trollocs. Thumping drums of war hammered through the air. And they came.

The squad formed besides Reimos, a small segment of the perimeter lines. The entire infantry line shifted in anticipation.

"Let's make this a good one! Stay together!" He shouted, adding to the roar of hundreds of voices.

"Stay together!" Tayren echoed, "if you get separated...I'll kill you after the spawns are done with you!"

Those dark hulking shapes came on, faster than humanly appeared. Their enormous size dwarfed an average human, and their strides carried them ever closer. Reimos grabbed the ring that hung on a thong around his neck, kissed it for luck, and slipped it protectively inside his jerkin. A flight of arrows flew over Reimos' head, to feather the oncoming shadowspawns. Many fell, but more howled and worked themselves into a bloodlust. Another flight of arrows took off. A third.

And then the spawns arrived, smashing into the infantry lines. The sword in Reimos' hands flashed and parried desperately. The Trollocs bore long wicked swords of massive weight and enormous spiked mattocks. Sharp pain streaked up Reimos' arm as his sword barely deflected a massive blow, nearly sending his weapon flying.

The beast that delivered it, bore on, but gave a pained howl when Tayren rushed under his defense and sliced through the flesh of the beast's leg. Reimos took that opportunity to lunge in and bury his sword through its massive chest. Reimos barely had time to pull the bloodied sword out before the creature collapsed to the ground.

The sergeant gave a quick nod to Tayren and leaped into the carnage again. The heat of battle boiled over, cold steel and burning blood intermingled. Then, there were no more to kill.

Reimos exhaled and took a reading. The Trollocs had numbered only a fist or two, a rare gem these days, with most Shadowspawn hosts totaling in the thousands. While the main Band could hold its own against many a shadow host, a company at two hundred some men was barely a nuisance. However this time, the readiness of the Band had made short work of the attacking foes, with minimal lost.

"Victory!" The cry roared. Reimos licked his cracked lips, and kept a wary gaze towards the dense clusters of pines scattered around that could hide many lurking spawns. He stooped and wiped his blade on the snow, the dark blood staining the white crimson. Satisfied that it was mostly clean, he sheathed the sword.

"A taste of battle." Reimos gave a measuring look at the soldiers in the squad. All of them had survived, more or less. Cordin was wide-eyed, but his sword was stained and spawn blood smeared his face. He was the only raw tyro in Reimos' squad, the rest having seen at least some battle.

"Savor it while you can." Tayren Suturb grunted in agreement, "it's going to get a lot harder." Tayren had already served in some northern patrols, and knew the reality. His tall lanky frame knew battle, and a grim scar stretching his face attested to it. He had a good head on his shoulder, and Reimos knew he could trust him with the squad if he died, though he was not yet looking forward to that.

The groans of the wounded punctuated the air, and Reimos moved forward to help. Grimacing, he kneeled beside a fallen infantry, a pus-filled stump where his arm should have belonged. Its owner groaned softly but the blood loss was beginning to take its toll. Stef tore off strips of the soldier's red cloak and began to hastily bandage the wound. Dark red blotches immediately blossomed onto the already red fabric. Cordin came beside him, licking his lips nervously, his eyes trying to avoid looking at the wound.

"Help me with this, will ya?" Reimos grunted. Cordin glanced down, looked decidedly uneasy, but grabbed the moaning soldier by his good arm. With Cordin's help, Reimos carried the soldier onto an awaiting stretcher. Two red-armed medics carried him off, towards the temporary hospital tent.

"Not too bad for your first time, kid." Reimos glanced at Cordin. He looked barely over 'scripting age, but from what he remembered from the battle, was not a coward and could fight decently. Not a grizzled veteran by any measure--neither was Reimos--but the recruit was getting there

"Thank you sir," Cordin answered hesitantly.

"The sooner we get moving, the sooner we can meet up with Cathon's army. Wherever they are." Reimos remarked and rubbed his stained hands on the snow. The cleansing white soaked up most of the blood, but Reimos could still feel the blood staining his hands dark red like his cloak. Seeing that the wounded were removed, he gave a wave, and he and the squad trudged back. The perimeter of the defense began to collapse into itself and formed back into the long line of cold marching soldiers.

Looking back, Reimos saw the hospital tent going down as well.

"Patched up as fast they could be," Tayren said, almost reading Reimos' mind, "Right back into the march if they could walk. And for those who meet the bone-saw, they get transported around like barley."

Reimos nodded grimly. The Trolloc Wars had taught many lessons. If you were in hostile territory, mobility equals survival. If they stayed in one spot too long, they're going to be swarmed by ten times the number minutes later.

"Don't know whether to feel sorry for them or jealous." He grunted, "A free ride sounds nice around now. Even if I do have to lose an arm."

Once more, scouts moved out, disappearing over the snowy mounds.

Reimos grunted, feeling the cold seeping into his bones again, and tramped on.