"The host that faced the men of Manetheren was enough to daunt the bravest heart. Ravens
blackened the sky, infantry blackened the earth. Evil men from every nation
gathered. Men in tens of thousands, with black robed generals to command, and powerful
sorcerers to aid them. At night their campfires outnumbered the stars, and dawn revealed the
banner of the Dark One at their head. Ba'al, Heart of the Dark. All names for the
Father of Lies. There was power there, and the dread of it shook the men of Manetheren, and
sent a chill into their very souls.
"Yet they knew what they must do. Their homeland lay just across the river. They
must keep that host, and the power with it, from the Mountain Home. Aemon had sent out
messengers. Aid was promised if they could hold for but three days at the
Tarendrelle. Hold for three days against odds that should overwhelm them in the first
hour. Yet somehow, through bloody assault and desperate defense, they held through and hour,
and the second hour, and the third. For three days they fought, and though the land became a
butcher's yard, no crossing of the Tarendrelle would they yield. By the third night no help had
come, and no messengers, and they fought on alone. For six days, For nine. And
on the tenth day Aemon knew the taste of betrayal. No help was coming, and they could hold
the river crossings no more.
"Aemon crossed the Tarendrelle, burning the bridges behind him. And he sent word
throughout the land for the people to flee, for he knew the powers with the dark army would find a way to
bring it across the river. Even as the word went out, the crossing began, and the soldiers of
Manetheren took up the fight again, to buy with their lives what hours they could for the people to
escape. From the city of Manetheren, Eldrene organized the flight of her people into the
deepest forests and the fastness of the mountains.
"But some did not flee. First in a trickle, then a river, then a flood, men went, not to safety, but
to join the army fighting for their land. Shepherds with bows, and farmers with pitchforks, and
woodsmen with axes. Women went too, shouldering what weapons they could find and
marching side by side with their men. No one made the journey that did not know they would
never return. But it was their land. It had been their fathers', and it would be their
children’s', and the went to pay the price of it. Not a step of ground was given up until it was
soaked in blood, but at the last the army of Manetheren was driven back, back to the place now known as
Emond's Field. And here the hordes of darkness surrounded them.
"The dead of the enemy piled up in mounds, but always more scrambled over those charnel heaps in waves
of death that had no end. There could be but one finish. No man or woman who
had stood beneath the banner of the Red Eagle at that day's dawning still lived when night
fell. The sword that could not be broken was shattered.