Chapter Eight

In front of them was a solid wall of Myrddraal and Trollocs. There had never been an army like this ever seen like this in three thousand years. Rand called Mat up to him, and as he rode, Rand called "Are your weapons ready?"

"They have never been tested, but yes, they are as ready as they will ever be. They are coming into position now." As Rand looked, he saw great tubes of iron and steel, rolling towards the frontline. Some men were ramming black powder into them and then round balls. "I think we should be able to give them a shock right now, even if we don't hit them." He shouted out to one of the teams on the iron tubes.

"Tiraj, have you got one of those aimed at that little black line over there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will you please fire my secret weapon then. So that the enemy, and my Lord Dragon can see how it works."

Rand bowed to Mat mockingly from the shadow. "Thank you, my Lord Cauthon."

Tiraj took a lighted torch and touched it to a piece of cord protruding from the back of the tube. This burned quickly, and when it reached the tube, something exploded.

There was a rush of smoke as the ball flew through the air, and it hit some of the enemy. They broke ranks in a midst of confusion, as the dead Trollocs ploughed into the ranks of their allies.

Rand stared at the tube in amazement.

"What in the flaming name of the Creator is that?" Mat stroked the tube that had just been fired, as he ordered all of the others to be filled.

"These, my oldest friend, are Kannen. I got the idea from Aludra's fireworks. I made the tubes bigger, and replaced the powder that went throughout the firework to the back, and put a big iron ball into it, and off they go, massacring the enemy. The barrel length of these also changes how far the ball goes, and this is the best size." He looked and saw that the rest of the enemy was in confusion, so he ordered the rest of the Kannen to be fired. They truly decimated the enemy, and once they had all fired, Mat pulled out his ashanderai. "That's all they got in them for now, let's go at them now hand-to-hand!"

Rand and Mat charged, yelling out their battle cries. Then the rest of the army followed them. The Myrddraal and the Trollocs also changed forward, meeting head on in the middle of the plain.

There was bloodshed everywhere. Most decided to fight dirty, going for the hamstring at the back of their legs, then slitting their throats.

Gareth Bryne found himself cut off by three Trollocs. Masterly, he slew two of the Trollocs with sword thrusts, but he tripped over a stone, and lost his sword.

The last Trolloc raised its sword high above its head, and Gareth prayed to the Creator that his death would be quick. He shut his eyes, and waited for the blow.

It never came. He opened his eyes to see Tan al'Thor standing over him. The Trolloc lay slain to one side. Gareth stared at Tam incredulously.

"Tam al'Thor? Is that you? I was sure you had died during the Aiel War!"

"No such luck, Gareth. I am just like you. We are not ready to go to the Creator and we are too evil for the Dark One to cope with!" They clasped hands, and laughed. Tam handed Gareth one of the four swords he had on his body.

"Come on, Gareth. Let's go and kill some Trollocs." They made their way into the writhing mass of Trollocs, Myrddraal, Humans and Ogier. They were a windmill of steel, cutting their way through the enemy, reaching allies who were down, and protecting them, and destroying parts of the Trolloc army where it was weakest.

Everything was going well, when above the noise of battle, and obviously amplified with the One Power, shouted

"RETREAT! RETREAT NOW!"