Queen's Guard of Andor  

Death of a Soul Part 1

By Timbal al'Kaden

Frustration seeped through Timbal's every fibre as he again read over the Queen's assignment to him in order to obtain his next rank. He was supposed to take two men who had broken Andor's law with him to either kill Akkad, the Dha'vol leader who resides in the blasted lands near Shayol Ghul, or Lord Silvak, the Seanchan leader that resides in Falme. Both appeared to be suicide missions, let alone the fact that this so called "Lord" Argayle and Davor were never awake or around at the same time as Timbal.

Crumpling the letter in his gauntleted fist for what must've been the 50th time, he leaned back in his chair to think. Even if he managed to find Argayle or Davor around, the likeliness that they would be willing to help him out in this endeavor was next to nothing. In order to do this, Timbal and whoever he brought would have to strike at a time when most of the world was asleep in their beds. Getting a stack of parchment he began writing a note to his friends and family:

To those I trust,

In the upcoming weeks, I have need of your assistance in a deed that has never before been attempted without the backing of the White Tower itself. I will be leading an armed force into the depths of Shayol Ghul in an attempt to remove the head of Akkad the Dha'vol.

If you are able to assist me, I ask that you begin travelling to Caemlyn where I will set you up with a place to stay and food to eat until we begin our mission.

Please know that I would not ask this of you were I asked to do such by the Queen herself.

Light bless you all,

Timbal al'Kaden

Writing up multiple letters he called in his personal courier, a greatsword wrapped in vines embroidered into his tunic, and sent him out to deliver the mails using his sources.

Turning out the lamps, all that was left to do was to wait and pray to the Creator that he get enough support that he was able to do what must be done. He headed out of his office in the Palace and went towards the barracks, eager to get sleep. Knocking on the oakdoor the slat was opened by the doorguard on the inside as he peered out. Nodding at him through the peephole, the guard closed the slat and opened the barracks doors.

"Good evening, Senior Lieutenant. I hope all is going well for you tonight."

Timbal grunted and said "As well as it can be. Andor seems quieter than normal with the induction of our newer guards so in that aspect things are going very well. Lots of paperwork still piled up from that Cairhien war though, it's giving me a pretty bad headache so I'm going to head to bed early. Have a good night"

"Good night Senior Lieutenant."

The man saluted sharply and went back to his game of cards on the desk by the oakdoor.

Entering his room, Timbal slowly removed his armor, some of his scars still tender as they healed. Putting his axe on the wall and his daggers within close reach, he lowered himself into bed and quickly fell into a deep, troubled slumber.

The next couple weeks were slow with no bandits troubling Andor. The most action Timbal had during that time were a few drunkards who though it best to have fistfights inside various inns instead of outside the city. These disputes were broken up easily with noone worse for the wear excepting a few lumps and cuts suffered by the drunk men.

When Timbal went back to his office to work on the stack of paperwork that never seemed to diminish he found a neatly placed pile of letters all addressed to him and stamped with various family seals. Going through the letters he saw that his brothers family and Timbal's sons were too busy with matters involving their own clans. Perhaps it's all for the better that they don't come along, Timbal thought. Going through the other letters, he saw that there would be a decent turnout for what he needed. Throwing the letters in the fire to avoid hands that touch what they shouldn't, he carried on with the mundane task of his paperwork.

Weeks passed by, then months. Finally Timbal had assembled a nice sized party formed of his family and his families retainers. Various mercenaries and hired assassins in Timbal's service littered the crowd but they were loyal to the money they would all receive. Giving one of his guards the letter to his wife explaining what he had to do, he bid his fellow Queen's Guard members farewell, he mounted his horse and rode to meet the party of those that would follow him to Shayol Ghul at the skywalk over the inner city.

Riding out of the city, Timbal took one last glance at the city he had sworn to protect then turned around and led his large gathering on the first leg of its journey. He had planned out which course he would take in his head. They would have to go through the Black Hills up the long cut since he was warranted by Tar Valon then head up the Fal Dara Road and rest up inside Fal Dara before heading up to Shayol Ghul itself. From that point, they would head out to the dusty road north of Fal Dara and travel through the thickly forrested borderlands and into the dark forest. Heading up to the orchard they would then go through the blighted stedding and over the blighted mountains into the blasted lands west of Shayol Ghul. At that point they would then head east towards the Tower that Akkad has reportedly been known to reside in and if all goes well, take his head without suffering too many casualties. If all goes well, Timbal reminded himself.

As the sun began to set on the first day of travelling, Caemlyn rose up behind them in the distance like a giant guardian. They crossed one final hill and found themselves face to face with a small band of bandits. Both parties taken aback at the shock of one another, they stood frozen until Timbal launched his horse forward with a warcry, his lance held steady in his stirrup. Thundering towards the centre of the bandit party, Timbal did a quick count and found there to be 10-15 of them which was nothing compared to the 200 or so that he had brought with him from Caemlyn. His lance found the mark and splintered to pieces in the surprised bandit's chest.

With a great roar, the party Timbal had brought with him charged forward with a massive surge. The remaining bandits stood only long enough to relieve their bladders before turning and scattering in different directions. Arrows flew from those who held bows and crossbows. Sometimes they found their mark and brought a bandit down as he fled into the trees, sometimes they were wasted by the trees who looked like giant pincushions. Calling a halt on their charge, Timbal gathered everyone in to one large group so they wouldn't be divided and ambushed by dangers that might be lurking in the trees.

He was thankful that there wasn't a larger party of bandits, but with disgust he realized that a part of that was he might have sustained casualties and his mission would be more difficult. He disgusted himself sometimes. After much discussion with some of his more established relatives, they decided to set up camp just off the road before the trees. It was close enough to the branches to shelter them should any rain come, but they were not far enough into them to be subject to a devastating trap. Appointing sentries, Timbal set up his tent and slipped into a fitful and uneasy sleep. This was the routine for the next few weeks as they travelled up the Tar Valon Road until they came to the entrance to the western Tar Valon plains.

The party began heading west through some sparsely wooded area when a sentry came riding hard over the next crest. Timbal noticed the sentry had a black crossbow bolt sticking out of his right arm as he reigned his horse in beside him.

"Seanchan Sir. I'm assuming they came from the waygate that's around here. I estimate about 50 of them, maybe 75. Big enough for a raiding party, but small enough to remain discreet."

Timbal nodded at him, "Go get your arm taken care of, I'll make the preparations."

"Thank you Sir."

As he rode off, Timbal called up the people he had appointed to be leaders during this journey and told them what they were to do. The men who were the best with the bow were to be in amongst the trees to the left and right of the path they were standing on. Those best with the lance were to make up a line in front of the rest of the party, and all others were to ready whatever weapon they were able to use.

Waiting for the onslaught, Timbal sat in the centre of the line of lancers, the butt of his heavy wooden lance was nestled in the stirrup of his horse. The weight of the lance strained on his arm but he had to be ready to charge at the first sight of them. Hopefully they won't anticipate such a well-planned attack. He was never any good at motivational speeches, so he silently nodded at the men and women beside him. As he watched on, he noticed a small cloud of dust coming from behind the next crest, and the party of Seanchan came over the hill. Seeing a group of equal size, the Seanchan charged down the hill seemingly in an unorgazined mass, but Timbal saw the pikemen in the front ranks. Smart, but not smart enough.

Timbal spurred his horse forward, "For the Lion Throne!" With a dull roar, the other lancers urged their horses forward to meet with Timbal in a sweeping line that sped across the path and through the trees. The Seanchan were quick to react as their pikemen formed a solid line and planted the butt-end of their pikes and long spears in the dirt. Almost there, almost time...40 feet...30 feet...20 feet, "NOW!".

A sweeping flight of arrows, that turned the sky black, seemingly came from the trees from the left and right taking down a large portion of the pikemen. Another wave of arrows sliced through the already weakening ranks of the pikemen and those behind them. That's when the thundering roar of the horses came down on them. The sound of wood splintering filled the air along with the splatter of wed blood. The men with the axes, swords, maces, and other various weapons were close behind to clean up behind the first charge. Timbal held his lance tight as he felt the push on it from the other end, the point meeting an invaders face. The man's head seemed to explode along with the end of Timbal's lance, brains and wood flying about with reckless abandon. Dropping his ruined lance, he pulled the enormous battleaxe from his baldric and began to swing in large arcs around him, then switched to overhead hacking when the men behind him came in close.

The Seanchan, already decimated from the arrows and the charge, quickly fell and began retreating towards the waygate. Timbal held up a gauntleted fist to let his men know not to chase and to give a signal. Another flight of arrows flew from the trees at the retreating Seanchan, dropping the remaining raiders to the ground in an arrow studded heap. The men and women following Timbal fanned out and began killing the wounded raiders that had survived and began tending to their injured comrades in arms. When all was done, Timbal asked what the death count was for his party and was slightly happy but also slightly sad to hear that 3 men had died in the small skirmish.

They would stop for the rest of the day in order to bury the bodies of those who had died and to allow those injured time to recover from the wounds sustained on that day. It would also be good to kill some more deer in this area for food, and use the trees around them for arrows and lances while they still had the chance. Trees would be very few and far between once they entered the actual plains west of them and Timbal wanted to make sure they were all prepared for the arduous journey ahead. In the back of his mind, Timbal couldn't shake the feeling that he was leading his family and friends to their deaths.