As the hours drew on, Stef Reimos strained to control his impatience. The Horde had arrived with the dawn, dark bodies covering the far shore, until nothing could be seen in the distance but the blackness of the shadowspawns. But they had not attacked yet, seemingly satisfied with waiting for all their numbers to gather, against the trapped Band. Reimos had a clear view of the gathering storm, as Hill's replacement, Drogan Tryth, seemed to follow the same philosophy of placing Reimos in the line of fire. Reimos' squad was positioned at a section of the first fieldworks, lined up behind the jagged wall. The sharp fieldworks designed to keep the Trollocs at bay and Reimos safe did not please the disgruntled sergeant at all. Of all the works he had worked behind, this had to be the shoddiest piece of sheep fodder...light, even a soft wind could probably blow the entire thing over. Half of it was scavenged wagon parts hastily sharpened to points, the other was some honed local sapling, which had to be burned to curtail their homicidal tendencies.

"Light, wished we had some Saferan phalanxes with us right about now, barbarians though they be." Reimos grunted wistfully, "Our swords are too short for this kind of work. But as long as I'm wishing, I'd rather have all of them here, and me with a mug of mulled ale and a fire." Glancing up at the scorching sun, Reimos amended, "Or at least chilled wine in the shade of a tree that won't attempt to eat me."

"Yeah? That makes it two of us," Tayren wiped the sweat from his head, "What are the bloody spawns waiting for. They expect us to drop our weapons and surrender? "

Reimos spat on the ground, "You see any dreadlords? This can prove rather painful without the Aes Sedai."

"Can't see any. There might be some staying back of the front."

"Rations!" A soldier interrupted the conversation, tossing tacks to the stationed men. Reimos caught his hardtack with a grimy hand, and attempted, but failed, to break it in half.

"They should use these rations for the fieldworks. Well, so much for last meals. So much the pity." Tayren groused, and kicked a strut in front of him. It made an uninspiring creaking noise, but held together.

"Tayren, you break that bloody thing, we're nailing you in as replacement. I spent half the light-forsaken night hammering it in." Reimos made as if to beat the soldier on the head with his hardtack, when a shudder ran through the earth.

Reimos turned his head to the river, to see the overwhelming sight of the Trolloc lines plowing into the water, driving towards the Band. Reimos knew that though the Horde started slowly, like a boulder tumbling down a mountainside, it will soon become an unstoppable force.

Reimos flexed his sword hand, and waited for the boulder to hit. Thousands and thousands of shaggy Trollocs poured into the river. Scores began to drop, plummeting into the frothy water. The caltrops placed by the specs were doing their jobs with a vengeance. But though many shadowspawns fell, splashing, and a faint red sheen appeared on the water surface, the Horde did not abate. Those who fell were trampled and drowned, but there were dozens for every one that fell. They pushed past the bobbing wagon hulks at the midpoint, and came within bow range.

Arrows took flight over Reimos' head, stabbing into the river and the Trollocs like a vengeful rain. The Shadowspawn was enclosed by a ceiling of arrows and a floor of spikes, but continued to plow through the river.

"GET READY!" Reimos bellowed, "It's our bloody turn!"

The sergeant stepped forth to the fieldwork braces as the first wave of frothing shadowspawn stepped upon shore, greeted by the wall of spikes. Reimos stabbed forth into the chest of a Trolloc attempting to climb over the fieldwork, who fell back with a death howl. Reimos moved quickly to strike down a second clambering Trolloc, and a third, a forth. Waves and waves of shadowspawns were beaching now, attacking the fieldworks with almost suicidal determination. The front line of the Band strived to keep the Trollocs from ascending the surprisingly resilient fieldwork.

However with waves of Trollocs slamming into the wall, parts of the support began to crumble, and shadowspawns began to break through. Reimos thrust up into a Trolloc who had almost managed to scale the works, pushing the corpse back over. However, this gave time for two Shadowspawn to climb over, their torsos scored with red from the spikes, but still healthy enough to put the soldier on the defensive.

Warding off the blows, Reimos heard the signal he was waiting for, the beating of swords against shields, echoing down the lines, as more soldiers took it up. Reimos gave a cursory tap with his sword while backing away from the fieldworks and shouted, "MOVE BACK!"

Other officers had also taken up the call, and the entire infantry line shifted away from the fieldwork. Only a bright flare and a loud crackling noise signaled the sudden arrival of the fire chewing through the fieldworks. Flammable Naphtha rested in a shallow pit dug benneath the fieldworks and also soaked the wood of the supports. With the front line about to break, the designated soldiers had thrown burning torches into the wall, causing flames to race down the naph-soaked fieldworks.

Swarms of Trollocs had begun scaling the fieldworks without the humans warding them off, when their beady eyes caught sight of the approaching inferno. The shadowspawn attempted to leap back from their perches, but were stopped by the press of their fellow Trollocs behind. The fire tore through the fieldworks, burning hotly from the naph, chewing through wood and flesh alike. Howls of pain infused the air, and a blackened mass fell off the burning wall in front of Reimos.

A wall of fire now separated the bulk of the Horde and the Band of Red Hand, buying them valuable time. Reimos' squad quickly finished up the remnants of the Trollocs' advance wave, and retreated back towards the second fieldwork. Keeping together, they streamed through the narrow openings and took up a new position at the second work.

"We got over-ran too bloody fast." Reimos cursed, "We only got four left."

"We're dead otherwise." A soldier growled.

"Yeah? Well, I'm not rolling over for a spawn." Reimos growled. The fire of the first fieldwork began to die down, and Trollocs began to swarm through again, pounding against the fieldworks.

The Band of Red Hand soon found themselves at the last fieldwork, the black ashes of the first four fieldwork a testament to the day's trials. Though at each wall, they had slain thousands of shadowspawn, the Horde kept throwing itself at the besieged humans.

"We need a bloody miracle to get us out of this mess." Reimos muttered to himself as he fought to dislodge a Trolloc from the work, "What the bloody hell is Al'Vader waiting for?"

As Reimos ducked below the reach of a climbing Trolloc, he heard a distant bugle. Not from behind him, but faintly in front of him. The horn came again, its clarity pointing to a human origin.

Then a bird flew over the fraught Band, a bird of magnificence and grace, a red eagle. The sigil of their home lent Reimos strength once more, his tired spirit propped up. He heard himself shouting, "Carai an Caldazar!, and attacking forward with a fury that surprised even him. Sta

bbing in through the mist that veiled his mind was the distant horn, growing in intensity and volume, its origin growing closer and closer. The men around Reimos had taken up the cries, their swords clearing shadowspawn from the wall.

A Trolloc in front of Reimos fell headless from the fieldwork, giving the soldier a view of the river and distant coast. Past the waterway, the Horde had begun to mill in chaos, as a host of humans tore into them from the other side. A host of red-cloaked soldiers bearing the standard of the Caldazar and Red Hand.

Diest Arcanum shouted above the din of battle, "THEY'RE BREAKING. TARGET THE HALFMAN!"

Missiles arched through the air, slamming down among the Trolloc ranks. The leading Fades' luck could not overcome the sheer number of boulders slamming down from above. The rapid death of many of the Horde's leaders threw the shadowspawn ranks into further confusion. The Band's infantry lines switched quickly to offensive, cutting away at the retreating Trollocs. Across the river, the other half of the Band was slicing through the Horde flanks, forcing the panicking shadowspawns towards the river. The arrival of the soldiers who had been presumed dead had momentarily stunned both sides, but the Band had recovered quickly.

Lightning scored from the heavens, stabbing into the ranks of the shadowspawn. So, the Aes Sedai survived,and perhaps Cathon as well ."

A small flash of red pierced through the air, the great crimson eagle clawing at the face of a goat-faced Trolloc. The Red Hand closed in from both sides, hemming the shadowspawn into the water, but resistance soon hardened in the Horde. Though they had taken heavy casualty from the surprise flank attack, the shadowspawns still outnumbered the combined Band at least three to one, and with the surviving Fades driving them on, they began to fight back. If actions were not taken, the Trollocs would recover to devastate the humans, and were already delivering a punishing counter-offensive.

This was the moment Arcanum was waiting for. The surprisingly fast progress of the Trollocs had quickly placed the catapults out of range of the river. The general had been caught off-guard, waiting to bide his time for the best time, and could not unleash the surprise Borsy had set up. He had cursed his own greed when his legion were forced to relocate away from the Trolloc advances. But now, with the Band grabbing back lost ground, and the majority of the Horde bottled up in the river, it proved to be the tantalizing target for which Arcanum had waited.

"BLOW THE HULKS!" Arcanum bellowed, his voice carrying across the small rising in which the Thunder Legion had set up advance position. The cats' carriages snapped their load up, arching up and slamming into thick knots of Trollocs in the river. But, their true targets were the buoyant wagons bobbing in the water, which were smashed by the arriving rocks. The splintered hulks soon leaked their glistening load into the river. The witch's brew spread across the top of the water, the current stretching the black liquid around the Trolloc Horde.

Streaks of light arched from positions near the front lines, as archers dipped their arrows into the firepots, and let loose at the river. Where the rain of glowing arrows touched the water, tongues of flames licked the surface, inferno swelling forth. Within seconds, the river was embroiled in a firestorm that swallowed the Horde. Trollocs that broke free were cut down as the humans closed in. Those who did not die to blades were driven to a fiery death. The Trolloc counterassault deteriorated to chaos, as they found disciplined soldiers to the front and an inferno to their back. The Band of Red Hand was merciless, forcing the last Trollocs to their death in the smoking blaze.

With the victory nigh, medics swarmed the fields, bringing in the wounded and dying, setting up camp near Arcanum's station. A particular arrival caught Arcanum's eye, a man whose entire skin surface was a mass of blisters and burns.

"Borsy?" The general hurried over to the prone shape, lying on the makeshift cot. The man opened his blood-shot eyes and gazed up at Arcanum. The Thunder Lord knew immediately that the Chief Engineer would not survive his devastating injuries.

Drov Borsy opened his cracked lips slightly, "Killed by my own creation." This was followed by a soft raspy chuckling noise, and than Borsy sighed, "Got caught in the collapse of a burning fieldwork. The soldier who dragged me out...should've left me there. Only postponing..."

The engineer's eyes clouded for a second, then refocused, "Afraid I can't make that...design of yours, Diest. Leis Nosi...will take over. He's a good man. My cards were on the table, but I...got trumped."

Borsy sighed once more, before descending into final silence.

Arcanum kneeled silently for a moment, then detached the man's tattered and burnt cloak and placed it over the blackened corpse. In a quiet voice unlike his namesake, he murmered, "May you find the way to Manetheren, my friend."

Arcanum stood up and watched the final moments of the battle. The river fire burned hot, consuming the bodies of its victims, its thick, black plume rising into the air. Two red eagles flew around the pillar of smoke, dancing ever upwards. The wall of fire separated the two halves of the Band, but will soon expire.

"Thank you, Caldazar." Arcanum called to the eagles as they disappeared into the cloud. A single red feather floated down, alighting upon Borsy's body.

The Band of Red Hand stood united before the river of smoldering smoke, the fire's thirst quenched. A spirit of joy and victory suffused the red-cloaked soldiers who had seized victory from the teeth of the Horde. The loss at Getty's Canyon was only a faint memories to the infused soldiers of Manetheren.

Marshall-General Lawe Cathon felt that elation rising, a sort of weightlessness after the long ages of bearing a heavy burden, a victory long awaited for, a victory so sweet. He stood before the cheering soldiers, the smoking sign of their victory bellowing up behind him.

"It seems your luck still remains, General?" Airene Andalusa gave him a quirked smile, "So, you were right after all."

"High praise from you, my dear Airene." Cathon grinned back, and feeling the light spirit of the moment, kneeled and kissed her hand. The Aes Sedai touched his cheek lightly and curtsied. She stepped back to allow Al'Vader to greet Cathon.

"Sir, welcome back to the land of the living," Stren Al'Vader kneeled before Cathon, "I return the office of the Marshall-General back to your hands."

"You have done well, Bastion. If were to leave in earnest for the land beyond, I will know that the Band will remain well in your able hands, as we had seen today." Cathon placed his hands around the general's shoulder.

Al'Vader stood up, and the two Marshall-Generals clasped hands, the final sign that the Band was whole once more. Al'Vader bowed off, and Cathon turned to face his men.

"True sons of Manetheren!" Cathon shouted over the cheers of the soldiers, "Caldazar has given us this chance, has brought us together once more, for that task that remains. The enemy that hounded us has been destroyed, but the greater enemy still awaits. Though we have become one once more, we have suffered grievously. From Getty's Canyon to this Burning Rivers, we have lost over twenty thousand men of Manetheren, including Lieutenant-General Glene Hill of Zephyr Hawk Legion and countless others. Buried in a strange land far from home.

"But we still stand. For we are the steel of Manetheren. Though the Hordes has stolen the secret of that metal from the Homeland, they have not mastered the art. They may be stronger, but they are brittle, and will break with a heavy blow. Steel will win over iron, for we will keep on, no matter how beleaguered and battered we are. For they fight for blood and greed, WE FIGHT FOR MANETHEREN.

"Let the shadows tremble in fear. Let the creatures of darkness howl in terror. Let the black flood churn in dread. For the Band of Red Hand approaches. We have paid the Butcher's Bill too long. It is time to challenge the Butcher himself.

"We bring the blade of red fire to consume the shadows. We bring the chalice of red blood to cleanse the land. We bring the talons of the red eagle to pull down the Fortress of Night. We bring the Red Hand to strangle the Dark One in his parlor.

"Let the red flood flow forward, for we cannot be stopped. We are the Curse of the Blasted Lands, the Foe of the Shadow, the Thorn in the Dark One's Side. To Shayol Ghul we march this day! And arrive at last tomorrow!

"Forward the Band of Red Hand! Forward the Caldazar, Forward Manetheren!"

"Shen an Calhar! Shen an Calhar!"

"To Shayol Ghul we march!"

The roar of the soldiers stirred the air, the calls of the men who dared to defy the gods themselves.