When a man is given the raw might of Horse-Puncher and Bear Spine-Breaker Thorkell the Tall and unceremoniously dumped in the world of the Wheel of Time, how long before he starts warping whatever pattern the Wheel had intended?
Twin Axes Blurring (Wheel of Time SI with some Vinland Saga for fun...and a bit Extra)
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Prologue: Blood on the Caemlyn Road
Decided to crosspost this from on SB, figured I might get some people who are exclusive over here and maybe some fans of the WoT series will enjoy this since there is an utter dearth of Wheel of Time fanfics.
A few days ago, If you had told me that I would be fighting for my life against a horde of I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Real-Beastmen on the road to a city I knew only existed in a fictional story, I'd have told you were out of your damn gourd. Yet here I was earning my pay as a hired guard and wondering if any of my companions were still alive.
Hacking down yet another trolloc, this one with an eagle's beak instead of a normal man's mouth, yet he still had two rows of sharp spike-like teeth and breath like that of rotting meat which gave a strong indication of his last meal, I looked around for my travelling companions, a merchant caravan taking a load of iron ore down the Caemlyn road to the capital city of Andor for sale at the various smithies and manufactories located there, to see how they fared against this horde of brutes.
To my horror, I found myself completely alone, the others had either fled or had been cut down by the gigantic monstrosities that had engulfed our wagon train. Swallowing the dread in my stomach I gritted my teeth and clenched the pair of long axes in my hands. With any normal-sized man just one of them would have been almost too heavy to swing but I wasn't like most men.
Several days ago back in Baerlon, the mining town I had woken up in with no memory of how I had gotten there and looked nothing like I had when I had gone to bed the night before, a tailor with a proper measuring tape had seen me wandering around the town with an utterly lost look on my face. He had been curious just how tall I was and had asked to measure me just for his curiosity. Deciding to humor him since I had little else to do other than wander around like a lost soul, I submitted myself to his measurements. To my surprise I apparently measured a span, a pace, a foot and three inches, at first that had meant nothing until I was gently explained the measuring system, converting that to the feet I remembered I goggled for a moment as I was apparently over eight and a half feet tall in height. To my shock a crowd of people had gathered around me and the tailor as we were making our measurements and had all jabbering and applauding as if it were a street performance.
A passing-by Iron merchant, named Olyvar al'Bors had spotted the impromptu street show, had taken one look at my ridiculous physique and had hired me on as a caravan guard for his iron delivery to Caemlyn on the spot.
Not having many other options, besides street performer I had agreed to the job offer and three days later we were trekking along the Caemlyn Road.
That brought me back to the current situation as I continued to hack my way through the ugly brutes surrounding me a scream behind me snapped my head around as I spotted one big bear-faced bruin drop to the ground, hope rose in me, was one of my fellow travelers still alive?
That hope shattered when the pale, eyeless face of the Fade leading these beasts showed itself. It had clearly killed the trolloc to bring the others back into line and fight. Reading about those monstrosities and seeing artist's renditions of them were nothing compared to the actual creature in the flesh, despite towering over the thing just looking at the monstrosity filled me with an almost overwhelming desire to flee right then and there. But then I remembered that if I killed that little worm this entire fight would be over.
Clenching my hands around my axes I head-butted one goat-faced trolloc, which went down in a spray of blood and flying teeth and plowed my way towards the eyeless freak. "Come to my axes you ugly freak!" I bellowed, both to hopefully scare the thing and to boost my own courage.
The creature calmly flicked the black blood of the trolloc he'd killed off his blade and took a stance, its blade raised high. "You are interesting big man." It rasped out. "You shall be brought to the masters for study."
You know I had always heard the phrase, 'voice like rustling leaves or snake's scales rasping over stone' and could never really imagine what that actually sounded like, now I knew. The revulsion that went through me was immediately clamped down by raw anger. I was not going to be scared off by this wormy runt, no matter how scary it was, nor was I going to be dragged off to literal hell on earth to be poked and prodded by God-Knew-What-Or-Whom way up in the grim north.
"When Hell freezes over," and cutting down two trollocs who tried to interpose themselves between me and their leader, I fell on the Myrdraal like an avalanche, my blades whirling through the air so fast the eye almost couldn't see them. To my shock the Fade managed to dodge my attacks, its body ducking and weaving with a serpentine grace that a normal human couldn't match. While it couldn't go on the attack itself, nor did it seem like any of my attacks were going to hit anytime soon and I knew eventually one or more bright wits among the trollocs was going to take advantage of my focus on their commander and either stab me in the back or clonk me over the head and neither sounded go. I needed to end this fight immediately. The wide stance of the Myrdraal as it danced out the range of my attacks gave me inspiration. I had an idea.
Picking up the speed of my swings I attacked the Myrdraal with almost inhuman desperation, but if they were faster they were also uglier and wilder. The Fade seemed to grow confident, he thought I was on the ropes and would soon tire…not quite.
After one big swing, I paused in my attack long enough for the Myrdraal to strike. It leapt forward to the attack, close enough for what I intended. Sidestepping the thrust of the Myrdraal I reached back with one leg and kicked for all I was worth. Right between the legs of the Fade. Heavy boots crunched into whatever wedding tackle was sitting in the groin area of the Myrdraals black trousers and for the rest of my life I swore I heard 'something' pop with that kick. The Myrdraal was lifted clean off the ground and actually flew a good thirty feet away. Right at the edge of hearing I just pick up what vaguely sounded like a tenor hitting a falsetto note…apparently that hurt…good.
Turning back to the Trollocs who were all staring in abject horror at what had happened to the fade I grinned and twirled the axes in my hands and said, "Any of the rest of you want to try me?"
That seemed to break the beasts and they fled past me into the forests on either side of the Caemlyn road, picking up the downed and out Myrdraal as they fled, leaving behind their slain comrades to lay in the muddy blood-soaked road.
The adrenaline that had been flowing through me faded and the terror and fatigue that had been held at bay came back with a vengeance and I was forced to lean against one of the ore carts as I tried to catch my breath. After a few moments, I finally recovered enough to look around. There had been about twenty men in the caravan beside me, about six guards and the rest teamsters and a clerk in the employ of Merchant al'Bors who had been the unofficial leader of the wagon train.
It took a moment but it seemed that none of the others had managed to escape the hundred or so shadowspawn that had come across our caravan as they came from a bend in the road and heading in the opposite direction. Both sides seemed to be just as surprised as the other to come across us, unfortunately, the shadowspawn had recovered first and had fallen on us like a rock-slide.
Despite being outnumbered we had fought back but their numbers and the element of surprise had been too much for the others and I found myself the only remaining survivor of the caravan. A pair of horses hitched to one of the pair of ore wagons being the only other living things left.
As I stood and contemplated my situation a raven alighted itself on one of the trolloc corpses and glared at me with an unnatural intelligence in its eyes. Then it cawed once and took flight, off towards the North-East.
Whelp, that settled that, I was now on the shit-list of the Dark One and his lackeys. Fuck me running!
Looking around again I considered my situation, I had twenty dead me, ten dead horses, two live ones and two carts of Iron Ore intended to go to Caemlyn and I was currently on the shit-list/ persons of interest list to Satan himself and his servants. Whelp nothing for it but to roll of my sleeves and deal with it.
Setting my axes aside and shucking out of my overcoat, chainmail and tunic underneath, leaving my chest bare to the cool afternoon air, I quickly set to work, unhitching the horses I took them away from the bodies and set them to grazing in a field a few yards off the road while I set to work with the bodies.
The trollocs were piled up in a gross and bloody heap until I could figure out what was to be done with them. Checking their pockets and pouches I found little of value, a collection of whetstones and trinkets made of metal and bone that almost hurt to look at too long for the most part. A couple of shiny rocks that I was convinced were just quartz but I pocketed any, just in case they were anything actually valuable.
Then I grabbed a spade and laid the men out, I freely admit to checking them for money and maybe food, but anything else they had I left alone and buried with them after I dug a grave for each of them.
Then taking some branches and strips of cloth I made from the trollocs' clothing I made a cross for each grave. Then I knelt and said a short prayer for the souls of these men, then I stood back up, shucked back on my armor and coat and hitched the horses to one of the iron ore carts as well as tossing in as much food as I could.
I then glanced over to the pile of dead trollocs and back to the cart…I was going to need some sort of sign or token that I hadn't just killed the men of the caravan and taken their stuff…damn it.
Sighing, I made my way to the pile of dead trollocs and began looking through the corpses. Eventually, I spotted a particularly big and nasty looking bugger. This one had a bear's maw and a pair of ram's horns that curled around the sided of its head like those of a Bighorn Sheep. This would do.
Grabbing one of my axes I lopped the thing's head off and wrapped it in several layers of cloth and stuffed it into an empty chest. While I doubted it would prevent the thing from rotting, hopefully wrapping it up would keep the flies from getting to it. I doubted it but it was a nice image.
Looking at the other cart I wondered what to do with it for a moment, before letting it go and decided to stop at the next village and telling someone that there was a cart of ore that needed to be brought back to Baerlon and that Master al'Bors needed to gather another party to bring it to Caemlyn and that I would bring the other on my own. Hopefully, he would be understanding of the situation.
The head I would keep to myself until I could find someone important enough to bring it to…probably the Queen…though that would involve getting involved with Elaida the Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah, and wouldn't that be fun.
Whelp enough wool-gathering, I was paid to do a job and I needed to get going with it.
With a flick of the reigns, I had the horses going again and as we ambled down the road I began singing, both to pass the time as well as trying to keep my mind off the horror behind me.
"It's a long way, to Tipperary!
It's a long way to go…"
A/N: So there it is, tell me what ya'll think and if anyone has any suggestions on where to go with this crazy story I'm all ears.
A/N (2): I have a second chapter already made on SB but will post about an hour from now.
A/N (3): Also, if anyone has any deep experience with the Wheel of Time, I'm all ears since It's been a while since I read the books and I never actually managed to read the last one.
A few days ago, If you had told me that I would be fighting for my life against a horde of I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Real-Beastmen on the road to a city I knew only existed in a fictional story, I'd have told you were out of your damn gourd. Yet here I was earning my pay as a hired guard and wondering if any of my companions were still alive.
Hacking down yet another trolloc, this one with an eagle's beak instead of a normal man's mouth, yet he still had two rows of sharp spike-like teeth and breath like that of rotting meat which gave a strong indication of his last meal, I looked around for my travelling companions, a merchant caravan taking a load of iron ore down the Caemlyn road to the capital city of Andor for sale at the various smithies and manufactories located there, to see how they fared against this horde of brutes.
To my horror, I found myself completely alone, the others had either fled or had been cut down by the gigantic monstrosities that had engulfed our wagon train. Swallowing the dread in my stomach I gritted my teeth and clenched the pair of long axes in my hands. With any normal-sized man just one of them would have been almost too heavy to swing but I wasn't like most men.
Several days ago back in Baerlon, the mining town I had woken up in with no memory of how I had gotten there and looked nothing like I had when I had gone to bed the night before, a tailor with a proper measuring tape had seen me wandering around the town with an utterly lost look on my face. He had been curious just how tall I was and had asked to measure me just for his curiosity. Deciding to humor him since I had little else to do other than wander around like a lost soul, I submitted myself to his measurements. To my surprise I apparently measured a span, a pace, a foot and three inches, at first that had meant nothing until I was gently explained the measuring system, converting that to the feet I remembered I goggled for a moment as I was apparently over eight and a half feet tall in height. To my shock a crowd of people had gathered around me and the tailor as we were making our measurements and had all jabbering and applauding as if it were a street performance.
A passing-by Iron merchant, named Olyvar al'Bors had spotted the impromptu street show, had taken one look at my ridiculous physique and had hired me on as a caravan guard for his iron delivery to Caemlyn on the spot.
Not having many other options, besides street performer I had agreed to the job offer and three days later we were trekking along the Caemlyn Road.
That brought me back to the current situation as I continued to hack my way through the ugly brutes surrounding me a scream behind me snapped my head around as I spotted one big bear-faced bruin drop to the ground, hope rose in me, was one of my fellow travelers still alive?
That hope shattered when the pale, eyeless face of the Fade leading these beasts showed itself. It had clearly killed the trolloc to bring the others back into line and fight. Reading about those monstrosities and seeing artist's renditions of them were nothing compared to the actual creature in the flesh, despite towering over the thing just looking at the monstrosity filled me with an almost overwhelming desire to flee right then and there. But then I remembered that if I killed that little worm this entire fight would be over.
Clenching my hands around my axes I head-butted one goat-faced trolloc, which went down in a spray of blood and flying teeth and plowed my way towards the eyeless freak. "Come to my axes you ugly freak!" I bellowed, both to hopefully scare the thing and to boost my own courage.
The creature calmly flicked the black blood of the trolloc he'd killed off his blade and took a stance, its blade raised high. "You are interesting big man." It rasped out. "You shall be brought to the masters for study."
You know I had always heard the phrase, 'voice like rustling leaves or snake's scales rasping over stone' and could never really imagine what that actually sounded like, now I knew. The revulsion that went through me was immediately clamped down by raw anger. I was not going to be scared off by this wormy runt, no matter how scary it was, nor was I going to be dragged off to literal hell on earth to be poked and prodded by God-Knew-What-Or-Whom way up in the grim north.
"When Hell freezes over," and cutting down two trollocs who tried to interpose themselves between me and their leader, I fell on the Myrdraal like an avalanche, my blades whirling through the air so fast the eye almost couldn't see them. To my shock the Fade managed to dodge my attacks, its body ducking and weaving with a serpentine grace that a normal human couldn't match. While it couldn't go on the attack itself, nor did it seem like any of my attacks were going to hit anytime soon and I knew eventually one or more bright wits among the trollocs was going to take advantage of my focus on their commander and either stab me in the back or clonk me over the head and neither sounded go. I needed to end this fight immediately. The wide stance of the Myrdraal as it danced out the range of my attacks gave me inspiration. I had an idea.
Picking up the speed of my swings I attacked the Myrdraal with almost inhuman desperation, but if they were faster they were also uglier and wilder. The Fade seemed to grow confident, he thought I was on the ropes and would soon tire…not quite.
After one big swing, I paused in my attack long enough for the Myrdraal to strike. It leapt forward to the attack, close enough for what I intended. Sidestepping the thrust of the Myrdraal I reached back with one leg and kicked for all I was worth. Right between the legs of the Fade. Heavy boots crunched into whatever wedding tackle was sitting in the groin area of the Myrdraals black trousers and for the rest of my life I swore I heard 'something' pop with that kick. The Myrdraal was lifted clean off the ground and actually flew a good thirty feet away. Right at the edge of hearing I just pick up what vaguely sounded like a tenor hitting a falsetto note…apparently that hurt…good.
Turning back to the Trollocs who were all staring in abject horror at what had happened to the fade I grinned and twirled the axes in my hands and said, "Any of the rest of you want to try me?"
That seemed to break the beasts and they fled past me into the forests on either side of the Caemlyn road, picking up the downed and out Myrdraal as they fled, leaving behind their slain comrades to lay in the muddy blood-soaked road.
The adrenaline that had been flowing through me faded and the terror and fatigue that had been held at bay came back with a vengeance and I was forced to lean against one of the ore carts as I tried to catch my breath. After a few moments, I finally recovered enough to look around. There had been about twenty men in the caravan beside me, about six guards and the rest teamsters and a clerk in the employ of Merchant al'Bors who had been the unofficial leader of the wagon train.
It took a moment but it seemed that none of the others had managed to escape the hundred or so shadowspawn that had come across our caravan as they came from a bend in the road and heading in the opposite direction. Both sides seemed to be just as surprised as the other to come across us, unfortunately, the shadowspawn had recovered first and had fallen on us like a rock-slide.
Despite being outnumbered we had fought back but their numbers and the element of surprise had been too much for the others and I found myself the only remaining survivor of the caravan. A pair of horses hitched to one of the pair of ore wagons being the only other living things left.
As I stood and contemplated my situation a raven alighted itself on one of the trolloc corpses and glared at me with an unnatural intelligence in its eyes. Then it cawed once and took flight, off towards the North-East.
Whelp, that settled that, I was now on the shit-list of the Dark One and his lackeys. Fuck me running!
Looking around again I considered my situation, I had twenty dead me, ten dead horses, two live ones and two carts of Iron Ore intended to go to Caemlyn and I was currently on the shit-list/ persons of interest list to Satan himself and his servants. Whelp nothing for it but to roll of my sleeves and deal with it.
Setting my axes aside and shucking out of my overcoat, chainmail and tunic underneath, leaving my chest bare to the cool afternoon air, I quickly set to work, unhitching the horses I took them away from the bodies and set them to grazing in a field a few yards off the road while I set to work with the bodies.
The trollocs were piled up in a gross and bloody heap until I could figure out what was to be done with them. Checking their pockets and pouches I found little of value, a collection of whetstones and trinkets made of metal and bone that almost hurt to look at too long for the most part. A couple of shiny rocks that I was convinced were just quartz but I pocketed any, just in case they were anything actually valuable.
Then I grabbed a spade and laid the men out, I freely admit to checking them for money and maybe food, but anything else they had I left alone and buried with them after I dug a grave for each of them.
Then taking some branches and strips of cloth I made from the trollocs' clothing I made a cross for each grave. Then I knelt and said a short prayer for the souls of these men, then I stood back up, shucked back on my armor and coat and hitched the horses to one of the iron ore carts as well as tossing in as much food as I could.
I then glanced over to the pile of dead trollocs and back to the cart…I was going to need some sort of sign or token that I hadn't just killed the men of the caravan and taken their stuff…damn it.
Sighing, I made my way to the pile of dead trollocs and began looking through the corpses. Eventually, I spotted a particularly big and nasty looking bugger. This one had a bear's maw and a pair of ram's horns that curled around the sided of its head like those of a Bighorn Sheep. This would do.
Grabbing one of my axes I lopped the thing's head off and wrapped it in several layers of cloth and stuffed it into an empty chest. While I doubted it would prevent the thing from rotting, hopefully wrapping it up would keep the flies from getting to it. I doubted it but it was a nice image.
Looking at the other cart I wondered what to do with it for a moment, before letting it go and decided to stop at the next village and telling someone that there was a cart of ore that needed to be brought back to Baerlon and that Master al'Bors needed to gather another party to bring it to Caemlyn and that I would bring the other on my own. Hopefully, he would be understanding of the situation.
The head I would keep to myself until I could find someone important enough to bring it to…probably the Queen…though that would involve getting involved with Elaida the Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah, and wouldn't that be fun.
Whelp enough wool-gathering, I was paid to do a job and I needed to get going with it.
With a flick of the reigns, I had the horses going again and as we ambled down the road I began singing, both to pass the time as well as trying to keep my mind off the horror behind me.
"It's a long way, to Tipperary!
It's a long way to go…"
A/N: So there it is, tell me what ya'll think and if anyone has any suggestions on where to go with this crazy story I'm all ears.
A/N (2): I have a second chapter already made on SB but will post about an hour from now.
A/N (3): Also, if anyone has any deep experience with the Wheel of Time, I'm all ears since It's been a while since I read the books and I never actually managed to read the last one.
Chapter One: Corpses and Questions
Rand smelled the corpse stench long before they came across the bodies, they had been traveling along the Caemlyn road for several days now, the fires of the burning Stag and Lion Inn long behind them, though the terror of the Myrdraal that night in the hallway still haunted Rand's dreams.
With the high noon sun glowing overhead and a wind blowing from the East and right into their faces, the scent struck them full in the face like a hammer blow. Mat and Egwene visibly fought the urge to gag while to Rand's surprise stoic and calm Perrin actually leaned over the side of his horse and retched out his breakfast from that morning.
Rand had smelled similar before, several years back a sudden flood had trapped a few of his farm's sheep when they had been out grazing. The small knoll they had retreated to was eventually washed over and the beasts swept away. Tam and Rand had followed the flood path until they found the sheep several days later, summer heat and the soaking water had done no services to the reek of the rotting sheep carcasses and Rand had to flee several paces and be sick at the smell. Tam had simply rolled up his sleeves and took the corpses for disposal; just letting the corpses sit and rot so close to their farm would only bring on disease or attract wolves.
This was a thousand times worse, and he had to force his gorge down to prevent getting sick more than once. Glancing around he spotted Nynaeve was also looking a little green. If the village Wisdom, who's calling in life brought her to many sickbeds and their smells, was being affected then it had to be foul.
The only ones who seemed unaffected by the stench of decay were Thom the Gleeman, his face set hard like a wooden carving, and the pair from Tar Valon the Aes Sedai Moiraine and her big stone-faced warden Lan.
The two looked to each other as they seemed to take in the smell as if they recognized it. They came to a stop and bid the others stop as well. As they did so Mat broke the silence held since this morning and made loud retching sounds, "Blood and Ashes, I've had to muck out stables more times than I ever wanted to count but nothing ever compared to that. Uggh!" He started coughing again at the foulness of it then managed to choke out. "It's like a herd of sick sheep all died at once in their own muck and were left out to bake in the sun for a week."
For once Nynaeve said nothing about his outbursts and to Rand's shock silently nodded with him, raising a sleeve of her dress to her mouth to try and block the stench. That smell must really have been getting to her.
Egwene clenched her nostrils shut and turned to Moiraine and said, "What is that smell?"
Moiraine said nothing, instead, she turned to Lan and with a small inclination of her head she sent him off down the road, closer to the source of the stench. When Lan disappeared out of sight she turned to the young woman and said, "The only place I've smelled such before was up North in the Borderlands, after a battle with Darkspawn. That stench is dead trollocs that were allowed to sit in the sun and rot, there is a reason I had those killed in Emond's Field burnt. If left to rot their foul reek will repel even carrion eaters and would allow disease to spread."
She glanced in the direction of Lan, "Lan's deal with such a stench before and can keep his head around it. He should return soon."
Dead trollocs? On the Caemlyn road? Rand's mind was a whirl of questions as he tried to understand what was going on.
He glanced around at the others who were beginning to reach for their weapons, Perrin with his ax, Mat with his bow and over his shoulder he spotted Thom the Gleeman fingering a throwing knife. The fear grew in all of them as the wind finally changed and began to blow the stench away from them and back in the direction it came.
At that same moment Lan cam riding back around the bend in the road. To Rand's surprise Lan's face, instead of his normal stone-like grimness, held open confusion, as if he couldn't understand what he had seen and was still trying to figure it out.
He glanced up at the others and his eyes held that same confusion. "Well there really are dead trollocs, dozens of them, at least sixty piled up on the edge of the road." He gestured back around the bend.
Rand's heart jumped up to his throat, sixty? Blood and Ashes! He and his father had been overwhelmed by just a handful several nights ago, and it took the entire village as well as Moiraine and Lan to fight off a hundred of them. With only seven of them able to fight, he added Moiraine to that number for obvious reasons, they'd have been overwhelmed by sixty let alone however many had actually been there before.
Moiraine looked solemn and grim as she rode up to Lan and asked, "Anything else?"
"A Score of graves along the roadside, the soil was fresh meaning that there were survivors of whoever fought the Darkspawn." Glancing up to Rand and the other Two River's folk, he continued, "Trollocs don't leave behind dead bodies, waste of a good meal unless they're forced to."
Rand and the others grimaced at that little reminder of Trolloc savagery. Rand then shivered as he remembered the hot breath of Narg as he had leaped at him that first night when everything began to go insane in his life.
He almost missed Lan continuing, "What I don't understand is where is the Myrdraal that was forcing them to keep fighting. Trollocs are lazy cowards, if someone they were fighting was strong enough to kill sixty of them, they would have broken and fled long before. It takes a Myrdraal leading them to drive to take casualties like that. But what could make a Myrdraal flee like that? There is very little a Fade fears enough to run from. Not even Aes Sedei can make them run. Kill them, but scare them enough to run?" He shook his head at that.
"Were there any hints on the bodies?" Moiraine asked, Rand watched her face and despite her outward calm, Rand was almost sure there was just the slightest hint of confusion in her demeanor.
Lan nodded, "A few of them had wounds that indicated that normal swords, axes, and spears killed them, but most of the ones I saw had massive wounds like something giant killed them with huge rending blows. The only thing I can think of is if a band of Ogier came across the caravan and killed the trollocs in revenge for their victims."
"Ogier?" Mat spoke up, "You mean they actually exist?"
The look Moiraine gave Mat at that moment could have frozen a blazing bonfire. "Yes they do Matrim, and if they were truly angered they could do something like this. But they rarely leave their steddings these days, and none are located anywhere near here." Turning back to Lan she said, "But it is the only possible answer that makes any sense."
Thom chuckled at Mat's expense, "Don't be too harsh on him, Ogier almost never leave their steddings, I've been all over and I've only met an Ogier once, he was this huge fellow with long ears with thick tufts of hair at the end like some sort of cat, though I wouldn't laugh at those if you ever meet one. They're rather sensitive about that. He had come to Illan to repair a few buildings that his people had built long ago in the past. I watched him work for a little while and it was like a potter working with clay the way he could work stone so easily."
Moiraine turned her gaze to Thom, who seemed to stand up under the Aes Sedai's glare better than Mat, though not by much. "If he is going to be out in the world than he needs to accept there is more out there than just what he knew in the Two Rivers." Both Thom and Mat shut up at that point.
Rand had heard the stories of Ogiers, giant beings who had built all the great cities in the age between the breaking and the Trolloc wars, how no human stonemason could ever hope to compare to their accomplishments and were so strong that unless they were purposely damaged could last forever.
They stood there on the road for a few heartbeats longer before Moiraine looked up and said, "Well whatever happened we must be off, it isn't any concern of ours save that one group that was hunting us had been harmed, but who knows how many more might be, we can't tarry, though I will be sure to send a message to Tar Valon as soon as I am able." With that she flicked her horse's reigns and got moving, Lan coming right behind her. Rand and the others followed close behind, not even stopping to goggle too long at the massive pile of dead trollocs as they rode past.
Rand also spotted the mounds of overturned earth that were clear signs that someone whether man or Ogier from out of stories had buried the men who had died at the blades of the Shadowspawn. As the corpses were left behind them, Rand couldn't help but wonder, what were those wooden crosses planted atop each buried man? Perhaps something that Ogiers did to bury their dead? If he ever met an Ogier he would have to ask, though what were the chances of something like that ever happening.
With the high noon sun glowing overhead and a wind blowing from the East and right into their faces, the scent struck them full in the face like a hammer blow. Mat and Egwene visibly fought the urge to gag while to Rand's surprise stoic and calm Perrin actually leaned over the side of his horse and retched out his breakfast from that morning.
Rand had smelled similar before, several years back a sudden flood had trapped a few of his farm's sheep when they had been out grazing. The small knoll they had retreated to was eventually washed over and the beasts swept away. Tam and Rand had followed the flood path until they found the sheep several days later, summer heat and the soaking water had done no services to the reek of the rotting sheep carcasses and Rand had to flee several paces and be sick at the smell. Tam had simply rolled up his sleeves and took the corpses for disposal; just letting the corpses sit and rot so close to their farm would only bring on disease or attract wolves.
This was a thousand times worse, and he had to force his gorge down to prevent getting sick more than once. Glancing around he spotted Nynaeve was also looking a little green. If the village Wisdom, who's calling in life brought her to many sickbeds and their smells, was being affected then it had to be foul.
The only ones who seemed unaffected by the stench of decay were Thom the Gleeman, his face set hard like a wooden carving, and the pair from Tar Valon the Aes Sedai Moiraine and her big stone-faced warden Lan.
The two looked to each other as they seemed to take in the smell as if they recognized it. They came to a stop and bid the others stop as well. As they did so Mat broke the silence held since this morning and made loud retching sounds, "Blood and Ashes, I've had to muck out stables more times than I ever wanted to count but nothing ever compared to that. Uggh!" He started coughing again at the foulness of it then managed to choke out. "It's like a herd of sick sheep all died at once in their own muck and were left out to bake in the sun for a week."
For once Nynaeve said nothing about his outbursts and to Rand's shock silently nodded with him, raising a sleeve of her dress to her mouth to try and block the stench. That smell must really have been getting to her.
Egwene clenched her nostrils shut and turned to Moiraine and said, "What is that smell?"
Moiraine said nothing, instead, she turned to Lan and with a small inclination of her head she sent him off down the road, closer to the source of the stench. When Lan disappeared out of sight she turned to the young woman and said, "The only place I've smelled such before was up North in the Borderlands, after a battle with Darkspawn. That stench is dead trollocs that were allowed to sit in the sun and rot, there is a reason I had those killed in Emond's Field burnt. If left to rot their foul reek will repel even carrion eaters and would allow disease to spread."
She glanced in the direction of Lan, "Lan's deal with such a stench before and can keep his head around it. He should return soon."
Dead trollocs? On the Caemlyn road? Rand's mind was a whirl of questions as he tried to understand what was going on.
He glanced around at the others who were beginning to reach for their weapons, Perrin with his ax, Mat with his bow and over his shoulder he spotted Thom the Gleeman fingering a throwing knife. The fear grew in all of them as the wind finally changed and began to blow the stench away from them and back in the direction it came.
At that same moment Lan cam riding back around the bend in the road. To Rand's surprise Lan's face, instead of his normal stone-like grimness, held open confusion, as if he couldn't understand what he had seen and was still trying to figure it out.
He glanced up at the others and his eyes held that same confusion. "Well there really are dead trollocs, dozens of them, at least sixty piled up on the edge of the road." He gestured back around the bend.
Rand's heart jumped up to his throat, sixty? Blood and Ashes! He and his father had been overwhelmed by just a handful several nights ago, and it took the entire village as well as Moiraine and Lan to fight off a hundred of them. With only seven of them able to fight, he added Moiraine to that number for obvious reasons, they'd have been overwhelmed by sixty let alone however many had actually been there before.
Moiraine looked solemn and grim as she rode up to Lan and asked, "Anything else?"
"A Score of graves along the roadside, the soil was fresh meaning that there were survivors of whoever fought the Darkspawn." Glancing up to Rand and the other Two River's folk, he continued, "Trollocs don't leave behind dead bodies, waste of a good meal unless they're forced to."
Rand and the others grimaced at that little reminder of Trolloc savagery. Rand then shivered as he remembered the hot breath of Narg as he had leaped at him that first night when everything began to go insane in his life.
He almost missed Lan continuing, "What I don't understand is where is the Myrdraal that was forcing them to keep fighting. Trollocs are lazy cowards, if someone they were fighting was strong enough to kill sixty of them, they would have broken and fled long before. It takes a Myrdraal leading them to drive to take casualties like that. But what could make a Myrdraal flee like that? There is very little a Fade fears enough to run from. Not even Aes Sedei can make them run. Kill them, but scare them enough to run?" He shook his head at that.
"Were there any hints on the bodies?" Moiraine asked, Rand watched her face and despite her outward calm, Rand was almost sure there was just the slightest hint of confusion in her demeanor.
Lan nodded, "A few of them had wounds that indicated that normal swords, axes, and spears killed them, but most of the ones I saw had massive wounds like something giant killed them with huge rending blows. The only thing I can think of is if a band of Ogier came across the caravan and killed the trollocs in revenge for their victims."
"Ogier?" Mat spoke up, "You mean they actually exist?"
The look Moiraine gave Mat at that moment could have frozen a blazing bonfire. "Yes they do Matrim, and if they were truly angered they could do something like this. But they rarely leave their steddings these days, and none are located anywhere near here." Turning back to Lan she said, "But it is the only possible answer that makes any sense."
Thom chuckled at Mat's expense, "Don't be too harsh on him, Ogier almost never leave their steddings, I've been all over and I've only met an Ogier once, he was this huge fellow with long ears with thick tufts of hair at the end like some sort of cat, though I wouldn't laugh at those if you ever meet one. They're rather sensitive about that. He had come to Illan to repair a few buildings that his people had built long ago in the past. I watched him work for a little while and it was like a potter working with clay the way he could work stone so easily."
Moiraine turned her gaze to Thom, who seemed to stand up under the Aes Sedai's glare better than Mat, though not by much. "If he is going to be out in the world than he needs to accept there is more out there than just what he knew in the Two Rivers." Both Thom and Mat shut up at that point.
Rand had heard the stories of Ogiers, giant beings who had built all the great cities in the age between the breaking and the Trolloc wars, how no human stonemason could ever hope to compare to their accomplishments and were so strong that unless they were purposely damaged could last forever.
They stood there on the road for a few heartbeats longer before Moiraine looked up and said, "Well whatever happened we must be off, it isn't any concern of ours save that one group that was hunting us had been harmed, but who knows how many more might be, we can't tarry, though I will be sure to send a message to Tar Valon as soon as I am able." With that she flicked her horse's reigns and got moving, Lan coming right behind her. Rand and the others followed close behind, not even stopping to goggle too long at the massive pile of dead trollocs as they rode past.
Rand also spotted the mounds of overturned earth that were clear signs that someone whether man or Ogier from out of stories had buried the men who had died at the blades of the Shadowspawn. As the corpses were left behind them, Rand couldn't help but wonder, what were those wooden crosses planted atop each buried man? Perhaps something that Ogiers did to bury their dead? If he ever met an Ogier he would have to ask, though what were the chances of something like that ever happening.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Thank you for posting this here. Easier to follow.
Arimai
Curmudgeon
@brian boru
I love it. It's been a decade since I've seen any Wheel of Time setting stories. Good ones at least. I hope you continue to write this. Any news on your Ancient Hellas SI?
Or the Stag of Moussillion? Gaston?
I love it. It's been a decade since I've seen any Wheel of Time setting stories. Good ones at least. I hope you continue to write this. Any news on your Ancient Hellas SI?
Or the Stag of Moussillion? Gaston?
Last edited:
- Location
- California
Don't know much about the Wheel of Time, but reading about a peak strongman changing things on accident while fighting the local Big Bad looks fun.
Asked this over on SB but I figured I outta ask here as well. I'm hitting a brick wall over where exactly Rand and Mat run into Thorkell, as it stands I've got three possibilities. First is in the Royal Palace (Rand falls off the was as in OTL while Thorkell is being brought to the palace because of his trolloc head.
Second is at the Queen's Blessing before Logain arrives.
Third is meeting them somewhere on the Caemlyn road between White Bridge and Caemlyn.
Seriously guys I'm drawing a freaking blank here.
Second is at the Queen's Blessing before Logain arrives.
Third is meeting them somewhere on the Caemlyn road between White Bridge and Caemlyn.
Seriously guys I'm drawing a freaking blank here.
After Whitebridge they're on foot so I doubt they could catch up. At the Queens Blessing or in the palace would be better. The palace seems the most Taveren type of coincidence to happen, mostly depends on how long you want it to take to convince someone that your rottting head is a trolloc.
Though that does raise the question if Brokell would be brought to the Palace the same day as Logain being brought through the city to be presented to the queen...though I guess she could demand him to be talked with the moment Logain was met and sent on...
Chapter Two: You Meet all Sorts of Interesting People on the Caemlyn Road
A/N: Transcribed the first bit from The Eye of the World and will Italicize to indicate it. This might be Rand's last POV for the moment, I will hopefully return to Thorkell. Please Like, and comment. If you spot any grammatical mistakes please point them out, it is greatly appreciated.
The squeal of the door hinges roused him fully, but for a moment he only lay there in the hay wishing he was still asleep. Asleep he would not be aware of his body. His muscles ached like wrung-out rags, and had about as much strength. Weakly he tried to raise his head; he made it on the second try.
Mat sat in his accustomed place against the wall, within arm's reach of Rand. His chin rested on his chest, which rose and fell in the easy rhythm of deep sleep. The scarf had slipped down over his eyes.
Rand looked toward the door.
A woman stood there holding it open with one hand. For a moment she was only a dark shape in a dress, outlined by the faint light of early morning, then she stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. In the lantern light he could see her more clearly. She was about the same age as Nynaeve, he thought, but she was no village woman. The pale green silk of her dress shimmered as she moved. Her cloak was a rich, soft gray, and a frothy net of lace caught up her hair. She fingered a heavy gold necklace as she looked thoughtfully at Mat and him.
"Mat," Rand said, then louder, "Mat!"
Mat snorted and almost fell over as he came awake. Scrubbing sleep from his eyes, he stared at the woman.
"I came to look at my horse," she said, gesturing vaguely at the stalls. She never took her eyes away from the two of them, though. "Are you ill?"
"He's all right," Mat said stiffly. "He just caught a chill in the rain, that's all."
"Perhaps I should look at him," she said. "I have some knowledge. . . ."
Rand wondered if she were Aes Sedai. Even more than her clothes, her self-assured manner, the way she held her head as if on the point of giving a command, did not belong here. And if she is Aes Sedai, of what Ajah?
"I'm fine, now," he told her. "Really, there's no need."
But she came down the length of the stable, holding her skirt up and placing her gray slippers gingerly. With a grimace for the straw, she knelt beside him and felt his forehead.
"No fever," she said, studying him with a frown. She was pretty, in a sharp-featured fashion, but there was no warmth in her face. It was not cold, either; it just seemed to lack any feeling whatsoever. "You were sick, though. Yes. Yes. And still weak as a day-old kitten. I think. . . ." She reached under her cloak, and suddenly things were happening too fast for Rand to do more than give a strangled shout.
Her hand flashed from under her cloak; something glittered as she lunged across Rand toward Mat. Mat toppled sideways in a flurry of motion, and there was a solid tchunk of metal driven into wood. It all took just an instant, and then everything was still.
Mat lay half on his back, one hand gripping her wrist just above the dagger she had driven into the wall where his chest had been, his other hand holding the blade from Shadar Logoth to her throat.
Moving nothing but her eyes, she tried to look down at the dagger Mat held. Eyes widening, she drew a ragged breath and tried to pull back from it, but he kept the edge against her skin. After that, she was as still as a stone.
Licking his lips, Rand stared at the tableau above him. Even if he had not been so weak, he did not believe he could have moved. Then his eyes fell on her dagger, and his mouth went dry. The wood around the blade was blackening; thin tendrils of smoke rose from the char.
"Mat! Mat, her dagger!"
"ALRIGHT THAT'S FUCKING ENOUGH!!!" A deep male voice bellowed from above them, so loud Rand swore dust was shaken from the underside of the hayloft's boards.
Both Mat and Rand froze like rabbits under the gaze of a snake, and then slowly both young men raised their heads towards the hayloft ladder as the sound of something huge moved across the boards.
A moment later a massive shaped jumped down from the loft, not bothering to use the ladder to get down. But once Rand got a full look at their new guest, a small mildly hysterical part of his mind thought that he might have broken the ladder had he used it, as the gigantic man loomed over three young people sprawled out on the stable floor.
His face was long with an angular chin with a small chin beard and mustache forming a ring of sorts around his lips, his cheeks and jaws shaved though there was considerable stubble growing there. His eyes were hard to make out in the dim light coming through the barn door but Rand thought they were a dark brown and they glowed like coals as he glared at the three of them. His hair was full of straw from his sleeping in the loft the night before but the way he wore his blond hair up using a red cloth tied around his head he couldn't have told at first glance there was any in there.
But the feature that stuck out the most to Rand was his size, just his size, he was tall, towering even. If he wasn't at least ten feet tall then Rand would eat his hat if he had one. His shoulders were proportionally broad and his forearms, coming out from a pea soup green tunic were as big around as his calves and corded with powerful muscles.
'Light burn me! This man could kill a bull with just his fists!' Rand thought hysterically.
Mat had said nothing, just staring in complete awe at the huge man, his knife against the woman's throat had still not moved but the woman's throat was no longer against it. She had let go of her dagger and dropped backward to her bottom, slightly dragging Mat with her. Her fine dress ground into the stable floor which Rand had thought needed a cleaning soon but she seemed not to care, instead just staring wide-eyed at the giant.
The giant for his part merely glared at all three of them. Frustration clearly across his face before he said, "You know I've had a rough month people, my caravan party was set upon two days out of Baerlon by monsters out of a story, leaving me the last survivor. I had to drag two damn wagons of iron bars with only two horses for help for three days before I could finally find someone willing to sell me a couple of horses. THEN I've had to somehow manage two wagons and four horses by my damn lonesome for weeks down this damn road through all sorts of weather and wondering whether those FUCKING monsters would come back to try and finish the job. I've been stared at like sort of freak of nature AND been accused of being a Dark Friend by a pair of lunatics in white cloaks because 'No man can be that big naturally, clearly he must have made a deal with the Dark One for his strength' that was fun getting out of that mess without killing someone let me tell you!"
Rand's mind finally parsed what the big man was saying when he mentioned being set upon by monsters, he remembered the flight to Shadar Logoth some weeks back, being chased by the Trollocs and their Myrdraal handlers, clearly, this man's group had been caught in the middle during that chase. But how did he survive when all his party did not?
Rand's musings were cut short by the giant's continued ranting.
"So here I am two days from Caemlyn where I can drop off this snake-bit delivery and hopefully get fucking paid because I'm nearly out of damn money with everyone and their brother getting out their skinning knives for the poor innocent travelers coming their way. If I get to Caemlyn and I happen to meet him, I am going to rip Mr. FUCKING Logain the False Dragon out of his fucking cage and give him a knuckle sandwich for all the frustration he's caused me."
Mat at that point made a noise in the back of his throat as he slowly began lowering his blade.
The big man must have heard it because his head snapped towards Mat and the full force of his glare bored into Rand's friend.
"You shut-up Beanpole, you and your buddy kept me up all night with your ranting and raving so you get to sit and take it until I feel better."
Mat began to wilt under that gaze and verbal barrage and he slowly tried to make himself seem smaller. The young woman's wrist was released from his grip but she did not take advantage of her new-found freedom, instead, she continued to stare at the huge man in stunned silence.
The big man turned his head back to the rest of them and continued his verbal pummeling, "Where was I? Oh right. So here I am with no money for a bed so I'm forced to sleep up in a hayloft because all the rooms are being packed like sardines in a can and just when I'm getting comfortable, who should just barge in but you two chuckle-fucks and kept me up all damn night with your antics. I was going to give you a piece of my mind the night before when I saw one of you was sick so I let it go. Well, you look better now so I can bellow ALL I LIKE!" He roared those last three words, making Rand flinch at the force and fury of them.
"So I finally get some sleep an hour ago and who should come in but clearly the prostitute you two idiots gypped the night before coming to get her pay or revenge and you fucking woke me up with your buffoonery. So if you don't settle your differences right now like civilized adult human beings and let me get another damn hour of sleep I am going to tan your hides so thoroughly you can use your bottoms as body armor!", his rant finally over, he started breathing heavily at this point, the force of his emotions finally running down.
None of them moved for a few moments, then with a speed Rand did not think she had, the young woman leaped across Mat to grab her knife, wrench it from the wall, then scrambled to her feet to charge and make to stab the big man. To Rand, it seemed ridiculous that this tiny woman could harm the huge man, might as well be using a tooth-pick, but he remembered the smoke coming from the dagger as it sank into the wooden wall.
He made to call a warning to the man, it didn't matter.
Faster than he thought something that large could move, the big man's right arm snapped out like a striking snake and struck the woman's side in an open hand strike. Rand heard, bones snapping as she was literally sent flying through the air into one of the standing posts holding up the roof of the barn. There was a sickening thud and the woman lay motionless against the column, her knife lay on the ground, the straw touching it immediately began to smoke.
Rand stared in horror at the motionless women, then back to the huge man who had laid her out with all the casual effort of a man swatting a fly. To Rand's surprise, a look of horror spread across the big man's face to mirror his own and he scrambled over the woman, dropping to his knees and two fingers touching the woman's neck as he leaned his head down to her face.
A few moments later and he leaned back on his haunches, a sigh of relief escaping his lips, "Still alive…damn I need to remember my own strength…can't afford fuck-ups like that." He muttered under his breath.
He glanced behind him to the two boys who had finally started to move from their stunned positions, the anger from before gone, and a sheepish smile spread across his face as he awkwardly chuckled, "Well this is a fine mess. No one's going to believe three young men, especially me, had to try and defend themselves from one little woman. We're looking at hangman's noose unless we get out of here right now. Looks like you're stuck with me."
Terror went up Rand's spine at those words, for weeks now he'd been afraid of secret Dark Friends or Shadow Spawn or Ba'alzamon in his dreams but the idea of being hung like a common criminal, something that had not happened in the Two Rivers since before Tam was born turned his bowels to water.
The big man stood up and looked at Mat, who'd finally gotten to his feet, his hand on the Shadar Logoth dagger though he didn't seem to have it pointed at the big man. Rand thought that wise considering how fast the man had moved just moments before against another knife wielder. "Alright, this is what we're going to do. You, Beanpole," He pointed to Mat, "You got any experience driving a cart?"
Mat nodded, not explaining he'd been doing so since he was a child, he didn't want to upset this behemoth. The big man nodded, "Good, you grab those four horses there," He pointed to a quartet of Dhurran horses stabled next to each other and looking slightly upset at all the violence they had just witnessed. "And you get them out and ready to go, I'll bring the carts along and we can hitch them up."
He then turned to Rand and said, "Alright Red, can you walk? You seemed pretty puny just now."
Rand bit down any sort of retort at the slight against him and managed to struggle to his feet, "I'll bloody run if I have to."
The big man nodded, "Good then, do something with that knife and make sure little miss attempted murder over here doesn't choke to death on her own spit before someone comes in to check on us. Then follow us outside. If we're lucky we're out of here in five minutes and miles down the road before anyone checks in to see what's happened." With that, he strode out the door.
Rand nodded and hobbled his way over to the woman while Mat readied the horses the stranger pointed to and got them bridled and ready to go, soft words to calm them being whispered under his breath as the huge draft horses settled down and followed Mat out the door.
Rand meanwhile grabbed the woman's dagger with his thumb and for finger, keeping it away from him like it were a live adder. Looking around he saw a bucket of water and promptly dropped it in, the water hissed and steamed as if a rod of red-hot iron from master Luwhin's forge was being dipped in. Rand then checked the young woman, while he was no healer he knew just enough to know how to set a man in a position so as not to further injure themselves. He'd done so before when him and his father had helped a few neighbors cut down a few trees that had been damaged by a storm and were at risk of falling down on top of their houses. One man had stepped wrong and had rammed his head against a tree truck leaving him insensate. The men had gotten him laid down in a safe position while someone had been sent to run for Nyneave.
Rand looked her over for a moment, unconscious like this, there was nothing of the killer just moments ago. Instead, all he saw was a pretty young woman who had been severely injured. Illogical guilt rose in his stomach, then he heard her mumbling something. Against his better judgment, he leaned in and a chill went down his back, "Dark One will avenge me, He will have you…"
Rearing back he stumbled out of the barn after Mat who was bringing the last of the horses outside. Remembering at the last moment, he turned and shut the doors and dropped the bar down. If she woke up she wouldn't be getting out anytime soon without someone helping her, not with those injuries.
Rand saw the big man sitting in the front seat of one wagon, his huge frame looking out of place perching on the clearly too-small seat. Mat was clambering up to the driver's seat himself by the time Rand was clambering up beside him. Still weak, Rand had to be helped up and he leaned back in his seat, the excitement of the moment leaving him with greater exhaustion than he thought possible, uncomfortable as it might be Rand might have fallen asleep right then and there if the big man hadn't called out from in front of them.
"Alright boys, are we ready? Let's go." With a flick of the reigns the first cart started it's way back to the Caemlyn road, empty at this early time though a few people were already at their front doors and waved at the wagons before stopping to stare at the huge man driving it. "Well at least they won't remember us, not with that bloody huge fellow taking all the attention," Mat said with more mirth than Rand remembered him showing for a long while. Rand had to agree, the few people watching them go by seemed to barely acknowledge their existence, their focus entirely on the man driving the cart in front of them.
All three men rode along in complete silence until they were out of the town and the buildings disappearing from view. When the last building vanished from sight the big man turned and said, "Sorry for getting you into my troubles fellas. I wasn't joking when I said I've had a hard few weeks, and now I have assaulting a well-born lady to add to the list. When it rains it fucking pours."
It took both boys a moment, then to Rand's surprise considering how paranoid he had been, Mat said, "Don't worry, it hasn't been great for us either."
Rand wanted to quiet him down, for once being the paranoid one instead of Mat. But he simply didn't have the strength to say anything and could do nothing but nod in agreement.
The big man chuckled and said, "You must be if pretty women try to murder you in your sleep." He paused for a few moments in silent contemplation, then said, "Well if we're to be partners in crime I guess we should know each other's names. I'm Thorkell Haraldson, at your service."
A strange name but it was a big world Rand thought to himself. The two boys gave their names as well, Mat slightly more reluctantly but he gave it all the same. The big man nodded and then turned back to face the road, "It's another two days to Caemlyn but I think we should be soon enough, I've got to get this stuff delivered or else I won't get paid and I'm sure you want to get away from whatever's chasing you so hard."
Rand nodded in silence, exhaustion from the fever, and the terror of the morning draining him and leaning against Mat he fell asleep to the rhythm of the clopping hooves. He did not have any dreams that morning, bad or otherwise.
The squeal of the door hinges roused him fully, but for a moment he only lay there in the hay wishing he was still asleep. Asleep he would not be aware of his body. His muscles ached like wrung-out rags, and had about as much strength. Weakly he tried to raise his head; he made it on the second try.
Mat sat in his accustomed place against the wall, within arm's reach of Rand. His chin rested on his chest, which rose and fell in the easy rhythm of deep sleep. The scarf had slipped down over his eyes.
Rand looked toward the door.
A woman stood there holding it open with one hand. For a moment she was only a dark shape in a dress, outlined by the faint light of early morning, then she stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. In the lantern light he could see her more clearly. She was about the same age as Nynaeve, he thought, but she was no village woman. The pale green silk of her dress shimmered as she moved. Her cloak was a rich, soft gray, and a frothy net of lace caught up her hair. She fingered a heavy gold necklace as she looked thoughtfully at Mat and him.
"Mat," Rand said, then louder, "Mat!"
Mat snorted and almost fell over as he came awake. Scrubbing sleep from his eyes, he stared at the woman.
"I came to look at my horse," she said, gesturing vaguely at the stalls. She never took her eyes away from the two of them, though. "Are you ill?"
"He's all right," Mat said stiffly. "He just caught a chill in the rain, that's all."
"Perhaps I should look at him," she said. "I have some knowledge. . . ."
Rand wondered if she were Aes Sedai. Even more than her clothes, her self-assured manner, the way she held her head as if on the point of giving a command, did not belong here. And if she is Aes Sedai, of what Ajah?
"I'm fine, now," he told her. "Really, there's no need."
But she came down the length of the stable, holding her skirt up and placing her gray slippers gingerly. With a grimace for the straw, she knelt beside him and felt his forehead.
"No fever," she said, studying him with a frown. She was pretty, in a sharp-featured fashion, but there was no warmth in her face. It was not cold, either; it just seemed to lack any feeling whatsoever. "You were sick, though. Yes. Yes. And still weak as a day-old kitten. I think. . . ." She reached under her cloak, and suddenly things were happening too fast for Rand to do more than give a strangled shout.
Her hand flashed from under her cloak; something glittered as she lunged across Rand toward Mat. Mat toppled sideways in a flurry of motion, and there was a solid tchunk of metal driven into wood. It all took just an instant, and then everything was still.
Mat lay half on his back, one hand gripping her wrist just above the dagger she had driven into the wall where his chest had been, his other hand holding the blade from Shadar Logoth to her throat.
Moving nothing but her eyes, she tried to look down at the dagger Mat held. Eyes widening, she drew a ragged breath and tried to pull back from it, but he kept the edge against her skin. After that, she was as still as a stone.
Licking his lips, Rand stared at the tableau above him. Even if he had not been so weak, he did not believe he could have moved. Then his eyes fell on her dagger, and his mouth went dry. The wood around the blade was blackening; thin tendrils of smoke rose from the char.
"Mat! Mat, her dagger!"
"ALRIGHT THAT'S FUCKING ENOUGH!!!" A deep male voice bellowed from above them, so loud Rand swore dust was shaken from the underside of the hayloft's boards.
Both Mat and Rand froze like rabbits under the gaze of a snake, and then slowly both young men raised their heads towards the hayloft ladder as the sound of something huge moved across the boards.
A moment later a massive shaped jumped down from the loft, not bothering to use the ladder to get down. But once Rand got a full look at their new guest, a small mildly hysterical part of his mind thought that he might have broken the ladder had he used it, as the gigantic man loomed over three young people sprawled out on the stable floor.
His face was long with an angular chin with a small chin beard and mustache forming a ring of sorts around his lips, his cheeks and jaws shaved though there was considerable stubble growing there. His eyes were hard to make out in the dim light coming through the barn door but Rand thought they were a dark brown and they glowed like coals as he glared at the three of them. His hair was full of straw from his sleeping in the loft the night before but the way he wore his blond hair up using a red cloth tied around his head he couldn't have told at first glance there was any in there.
But the feature that stuck out the most to Rand was his size, just his size, he was tall, towering even. If he wasn't at least ten feet tall then Rand would eat his hat if he had one. His shoulders were proportionally broad and his forearms, coming out from a pea soup green tunic were as big around as his calves and corded with powerful muscles.
'Light burn me! This man could kill a bull with just his fists!' Rand thought hysterically.
Mat had said nothing, just staring in complete awe at the huge man, his knife against the woman's throat had still not moved but the woman's throat was no longer against it. She had let go of her dagger and dropped backward to her bottom, slightly dragging Mat with her. Her fine dress ground into the stable floor which Rand had thought needed a cleaning soon but she seemed not to care, instead just staring wide-eyed at the giant.
The giant for his part merely glared at all three of them. Frustration clearly across his face before he said, "You know I've had a rough month people, my caravan party was set upon two days out of Baerlon by monsters out of a story, leaving me the last survivor. I had to drag two damn wagons of iron bars with only two horses for help for three days before I could finally find someone willing to sell me a couple of horses. THEN I've had to somehow manage two wagons and four horses by my damn lonesome for weeks down this damn road through all sorts of weather and wondering whether those FUCKING monsters would come back to try and finish the job. I've been stared at like sort of freak of nature AND been accused of being a Dark Friend by a pair of lunatics in white cloaks because 'No man can be that big naturally, clearly he must have made a deal with the Dark One for his strength' that was fun getting out of that mess without killing someone let me tell you!"
Rand's mind finally parsed what the big man was saying when he mentioned being set upon by monsters, he remembered the flight to Shadar Logoth some weeks back, being chased by the Trollocs and their Myrdraal handlers, clearly, this man's group had been caught in the middle during that chase. But how did he survive when all his party did not?
Rand's musings were cut short by the giant's continued ranting.
"So here I am two days from Caemlyn where I can drop off this snake-bit delivery and hopefully get fucking paid because I'm nearly out of damn money with everyone and their brother getting out their skinning knives for the poor innocent travelers coming their way. If I get to Caemlyn and I happen to meet him, I am going to rip Mr. FUCKING Logain the False Dragon out of his fucking cage and give him a knuckle sandwich for all the frustration he's caused me."
Mat at that point made a noise in the back of his throat as he slowly began lowering his blade.
The big man must have heard it because his head snapped towards Mat and the full force of his glare bored into Rand's friend.
"You shut-up Beanpole, you and your buddy kept me up all night with your ranting and raving so you get to sit and take it until I feel better."
Mat began to wilt under that gaze and verbal barrage and he slowly tried to make himself seem smaller. The young woman's wrist was released from his grip but she did not take advantage of her new-found freedom, instead, she continued to stare at the huge man in stunned silence.
The big man turned his head back to the rest of them and continued his verbal pummeling, "Where was I? Oh right. So here I am with no money for a bed so I'm forced to sleep up in a hayloft because all the rooms are being packed like sardines in a can and just when I'm getting comfortable, who should just barge in but you two chuckle-fucks and kept me up all damn night with your antics. I was going to give you a piece of my mind the night before when I saw one of you was sick so I let it go. Well, you look better now so I can bellow ALL I LIKE!" He roared those last three words, making Rand flinch at the force and fury of them.
"So I finally get some sleep an hour ago and who should come in but clearly the prostitute you two idiots gypped the night before coming to get her pay or revenge and you fucking woke me up with your buffoonery. So if you don't settle your differences right now like civilized adult human beings and let me get another damn hour of sleep I am going to tan your hides so thoroughly you can use your bottoms as body armor!", his rant finally over, he started breathing heavily at this point, the force of his emotions finally running down.
None of them moved for a few moments, then with a speed Rand did not think she had, the young woman leaped across Mat to grab her knife, wrench it from the wall, then scrambled to her feet to charge and make to stab the big man. To Rand, it seemed ridiculous that this tiny woman could harm the huge man, might as well be using a tooth-pick, but he remembered the smoke coming from the dagger as it sank into the wooden wall.
He made to call a warning to the man, it didn't matter.
Faster than he thought something that large could move, the big man's right arm snapped out like a striking snake and struck the woman's side in an open hand strike. Rand heard, bones snapping as she was literally sent flying through the air into one of the standing posts holding up the roof of the barn. There was a sickening thud and the woman lay motionless against the column, her knife lay on the ground, the straw touching it immediately began to smoke.
Rand stared in horror at the motionless women, then back to the huge man who had laid her out with all the casual effort of a man swatting a fly. To Rand's surprise, a look of horror spread across the big man's face to mirror his own and he scrambled over the woman, dropping to his knees and two fingers touching the woman's neck as he leaned his head down to her face.
A few moments later and he leaned back on his haunches, a sigh of relief escaping his lips, "Still alive…damn I need to remember my own strength…can't afford fuck-ups like that." He muttered under his breath.
He glanced behind him to the two boys who had finally started to move from their stunned positions, the anger from before gone, and a sheepish smile spread across his face as he awkwardly chuckled, "Well this is a fine mess. No one's going to believe three young men, especially me, had to try and defend themselves from one little woman. We're looking at hangman's noose unless we get out of here right now. Looks like you're stuck with me."
Terror went up Rand's spine at those words, for weeks now he'd been afraid of secret Dark Friends or Shadow Spawn or Ba'alzamon in his dreams but the idea of being hung like a common criminal, something that had not happened in the Two Rivers since before Tam was born turned his bowels to water.
The big man stood up and looked at Mat, who'd finally gotten to his feet, his hand on the Shadar Logoth dagger though he didn't seem to have it pointed at the big man. Rand thought that wise considering how fast the man had moved just moments before against another knife wielder. "Alright, this is what we're going to do. You, Beanpole," He pointed to Mat, "You got any experience driving a cart?"
Mat nodded, not explaining he'd been doing so since he was a child, he didn't want to upset this behemoth. The big man nodded, "Good, you grab those four horses there," He pointed to a quartet of Dhurran horses stabled next to each other and looking slightly upset at all the violence they had just witnessed. "And you get them out and ready to go, I'll bring the carts along and we can hitch them up."
He then turned to Rand and said, "Alright Red, can you walk? You seemed pretty puny just now."
Rand bit down any sort of retort at the slight against him and managed to struggle to his feet, "I'll bloody run if I have to."
The big man nodded, "Good then, do something with that knife and make sure little miss attempted murder over here doesn't choke to death on her own spit before someone comes in to check on us. Then follow us outside. If we're lucky we're out of here in five minutes and miles down the road before anyone checks in to see what's happened." With that, he strode out the door.
Rand nodded and hobbled his way over to the woman while Mat readied the horses the stranger pointed to and got them bridled and ready to go, soft words to calm them being whispered under his breath as the huge draft horses settled down and followed Mat out the door.
Rand meanwhile grabbed the woman's dagger with his thumb and for finger, keeping it away from him like it were a live adder. Looking around he saw a bucket of water and promptly dropped it in, the water hissed and steamed as if a rod of red-hot iron from master Luwhin's forge was being dipped in. Rand then checked the young woman, while he was no healer he knew just enough to know how to set a man in a position so as not to further injure themselves. He'd done so before when him and his father had helped a few neighbors cut down a few trees that had been damaged by a storm and were at risk of falling down on top of their houses. One man had stepped wrong and had rammed his head against a tree truck leaving him insensate. The men had gotten him laid down in a safe position while someone had been sent to run for Nyneave.
Rand looked her over for a moment, unconscious like this, there was nothing of the killer just moments ago. Instead, all he saw was a pretty young woman who had been severely injured. Illogical guilt rose in his stomach, then he heard her mumbling something. Against his better judgment, he leaned in and a chill went down his back, "Dark One will avenge me, He will have you…"
Rearing back he stumbled out of the barn after Mat who was bringing the last of the horses outside. Remembering at the last moment, he turned and shut the doors and dropped the bar down. If she woke up she wouldn't be getting out anytime soon without someone helping her, not with those injuries.
Rand saw the big man sitting in the front seat of one wagon, his huge frame looking out of place perching on the clearly too-small seat. Mat was clambering up to the driver's seat himself by the time Rand was clambering up beside him. Still weak, Rand had to be helped up and he leaned back in his seat, the excitement of the moment leaving him with greater exhaustion than he thought possible, uncomfortable as it might be Rand might have fallen asleep right then and there if the big man hadn't called out from in front of them.
"Alright boys, are we ready? Let's go." With a flick of the reigns the first cart started it's way back to the Caemlyn road, empty at this early time though a few people were already at their front doors and waved at the wagons before stopping to stare at the huge man driving it. "Well at least they won't remember us, not with that bloody huge fellow taking all the attention," Mat said with more mirth than Rand remembered him showing for a long while. Rand had to agree, the few people watching them go by seemed to barely acknowledge their existence, their focus entirely on the man driving the cart in front of them.
All three men rode along in complete silence until they were out of the town and the buildings disappearing from view. When the last building vanished from sight the big man turned and said, "Sorry for getting you into my troubles fellas. I wasn't joking when I said I've had a hard few weeks, and now I have assaulting a well-born lady to add to the list. When it rains it fucking pours."
It took both boys a moment, then to Rand's surprise considering how paranoid he had been, Mat said, "Don't worry, it hasn't been great for us either."
Rand wanted to quiet him down, for once being the paranoid one instead of Mat. But he simply didn't have the strength to say anything and could do nothing but nod in agreement.
The big man chuckled and said, "You must be if pretty women try to murder you in your sleep." He paused for a few moments in silent contemplation, then said, "Well if we're to be partners in crime I guess we should know each other's names. I'm Thorkell Haraldson, at your service."
A strange name but it was a big world Rand thought to himself. The two boys gave their names as well, Mat slightly more reluctantly but he gave it all the same. The big man nodded and then turned back to face the road, "It's another two days to Caemlyn but I think we should be soon enough, I've got to get this stuff delivered or else I won't get paid and I'm sure you want to get away from whatever's chasing you so hard."
Rand nodded in silence, exhaustion from the fever, and the terror of the morning draining him and leaning against Mat he fell asleep to the rhythm of the clopping hooves. He did not have any dreams that morning, bad or otherwise.
- Location
- California
That's how he survived. By smacking the forces of evil! Left Hand! Right Hand! Upper Smack! And Back Hand!!
Ah yes, I know the feeling. When you want to have a car race with the military in GTA, but a grandma caps you with her self-defense, purse glock.
- Location
- Philippines
I was 12 years old when I first read the Eye of the World. It was the very first book I've bought for myself and I will never forget it. A decade later into the present and I still haven't finished the series and now this pops up in SB.
Nostalgia's a beautiful thing, author. You're off to a beautiful start by removing that fucking knife out of the equation already!
Nostalgia's a beautiful thing, author. You're off to a beautiful start by removing that fucking knife out of the equation already!
Unfortunately, Mat still has HIS knife, the knife Rand dropped into a bucket was the one the assassin woman had on her. Mat can't get rid of his for the moment because the curse of Shadar Logoth is still on the thing and it might outright kill him to be away from it or kill someone else if they pick it up themselves...so we're going to have to deal with that particular bologna for a little while longer.
Just realized just how absurdly big Thorkell is and why everyone was just staring like pole-axed oxen.
Thorkel is absurd.
Imagine some this big and proportionately built like a tank jumping out of a hayloft early in the morning to berate you about how you messed up his sleep.
Thorkel is absurd.
Imagine some this big and proportionately built like a tank jumping out of a hayloft early in the morning to berate you about how you messed up his sleep.
- Location
- United States
The one thing that stands out the most about Thorkell to me isn't his height, but his swearing.
I have a long fuse but boy can I blow up the few times I have and I can cuss a blue-streak when it comes to it.
Arimai
Curmudgeon
Nah. You aren't even into lumberjack level much less angry sailor
- Location
- United States
It's not that he swears, but how he swears. As someone could know that he is a foreigner just by his swears. As he did not grow up in the world, and has learned what swears everyone else uses. Like how Mat swears a lot in the story, always saying blood and bloody ashes.
- Location
- California
Not focusing on the prostitute comments. But I can see how the overall rant overshadows minor comments. Also, how did you get the different size comparisons?
Got it from here
though I had to do a printscreen to get the image, crop it, then upload it to imgur.
Arimai
Curmudgeon
Would this not be more accurate? Matt is a shorty at 5.5, Rand is 6.5, Thorkell 8 and an Ogier at 10.5 for Average height.
Rand is mistaken for an Aeil because of his red hair, middle eastern skin colour, and height at 6' 6"
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- Location
- Philippines
Ugh. I think I need to freshen up on my knowledge of the series rather than I what I barely remember years ago.