Chapter 9: The Battle Begins
"What the humans lacked in inherent ability was seemingly made up for with sheer numbers and an unprecedented fierceness. The battles were long, hard and bloody. Wings were sheered off, arms were lost, families torn asunder. Time dropped away, and the war continued unabated." – Hellboy 2 Novel: Prologue
The morning that greeted the day had granted the Earth with rolling, darkening clouds, like a storm was gathering as if the prospect of war had asked the weather to set a dramatic stage set. The soiled ground was almost blackened under the grey and dismal sky as the Sons of the Earth knew their task, knew the battle that was ahead and what had to be done. The expanse where the battle was to take place was a monument to the destruction of man, a barren wasteland with no natural life present at all. This part of the land had been stripped of its beauty, all mother nature's gifts rendered helpless by the ruthless ways of the humans. The space was desolate, but it was going to ensure a brutal and bloody battle, with warriors from both side losing lives, but the Sons of the Earth only hoped that the gods were on their side. This was their world, the Earth their natural habitat and they would do anything to protect it. All magical creatures ranging from trolls to ogres and goblins stood ready and waiting, standing tall and holding their ranks, various weapons of native design and craft brandished for attack and defence. They held their lines and formations, some trolls taller than three men and towering above the rest while ogres planted their large feet in the Earthy ground, bearing their club like arms and hands, almost baying for blood. The most impressive feat about the magical creatures and their army however were the elves. Every elf a supernatural warrior, everyone with fighter's blood and to a man ready for battle. The elves stood in a fierce wall like formation, a barrier of warrior like strength each adorned in their green and brown battle armour with dual pointed headgear, their pointed ears proudly displaying their heritage. Each elven warrior held a stave of the sharpest elven ore by their sides, sheathed for now but would reveal their deadly spear like heads when the time came. The elves were the heart beat of this natural fighting machine, the leaders of the attack but they waited, would not be the first to engage. They were defending their home and if anyone was to make the first move it would be the humans, the ones who had forced war upon them, shattering the peace of the Earth. Standing stoically and with a fearsome posture that demanded respect and instilled fear into the enemies of the Earth, the elven prince Nuada Silverlance headed his station at the front with his fellow soldiers, dressed in his usual black and red fighting garb for the coming battle. His trusted weapons, the sword at his side and the deadliest of elven crafted spears slung neatly over his black gauntleted shoulders. He considered it an honour to lead his people into battle, to fight at the sides of his comrades as their blades struck at the hearts of humanity. Taking his stand at front of the elven lines, hand resting on the golden pommel of his sword, eyes burning with their usual fire he waited with firm heart, taking a strong stance with a rest of his warriors and his fellow Children of the Earth. If the humans wanted to dishonour the gods and destroy the Earth they would have to get through them. As long as he as alive on this world the elven prince would never allow the humans to prevail.
Even though she had been told to return home, to stay safe where she could not be harmed Bamba had taken a stroll up to the top of her favourite hill to wish the soldiers good fortune. To see her people ready for battle, adorned in their battle armour, swords and spears sheathed at their sides it wounded her a little deeper than she wanted. To see her people and her home at war, the stormy sky above heightening the mood and atmosphere for war made her sadden a little more with each passing moment as she held the Gracedia flower which her lord had given her close to her heart. She was wrapped in a lacy gold and crimson tunic which cut off at hip length, long black leggings and knee-high boots while a wide black belt was clipped around her waist. She was in a reflective state of mind, looking over the vast wasteland below, being able to make out the faint lines of the soldiers in the distance, the Sons of the Earth going to war as she tried to push away the tears. Her love was out there, fighting for his homeland and the safety of his people and despite her knowing how skilled he was in combat, a master of his art she couldn't help but worry. It only took one wrong step, one costly move and he could fall to his death, but she had every faith in him, believed that her lord and warrior would stand strong on the field of battle. She gazed at the golden ring on her fourth finger before cupping her hand to her chest and closing her eyes. The gift meant much to her but what it symbolised meant everything. He wanted her to be his bride, the only woman he would ever love. She remembered his words of love and devotion and they would guide her to be strong. The day they would be bound beyond the physical realm and joined in wedded bands would be the most precious and special moment in her life.
Light droplets fell from the sky as Bamba felt the faint splashes of rain on her face as she normally would have found shelter, but even rain was a blessing from the Earth and she would bask in it for a time even it meant her long silky hair getting damp. Her voice was a mere tremble at first but then "I Wish the Wars were All Over" sounded from the top of the hill, carrying over the falling rain as she looked out onto the horizon, the words of the song bringing her assurance that when the war came to an end peace reign on Earth and the magical creatures would live in harmony once again. The Sons of Adam had been gathering their strength, day by day until they could march at their full capacity to claim the Earth for their own. The magical creatures would defend their lands, would raise up a defence so strong, a wall of natural strength that they would seek to abandon their conquest altogether. She stood under her favourite tree which she was pleased to see was still in bloom, a complex structure of branches with cherry coloured blossoms flourishing. The elven woman was relieved to see life and an object of natural beauty in this land about to be plagued by war.
Today was the day that the Earth and her sons went to war and Bamba could only watch on with a bleeding heart.
The moment was close at hand as the sound of rushing feet met the keen hearing of the magical creatures as the humans trampled everything in their path, not distinguishing animal from plant. Their blood red banners rippling in the breeze as they marched, man's conquest of the Earth had begun but they did not realise the anger they had awakened. The magical creatures were ready and waiting for them and had been anticipating their attack for some time. Each human different in their appearance but all with one common goal, united in purpose as they continued their march through the woodlands towards the battleground where all hell would break loose. Families would be torn apart, blood spilt, lives lost, land destroyed, all for the sake of keeping the greed of humanity at bay.
The lines of armoured elven warriors and their prince stood ready and waiting for the coming battle, some of the soldiers' hands twitching at the hilts of their staves even getting impatient. Despite the magical creatures only wanting peace and not bloodshed, the actions of these humans had forced their hand and as much as they wanted to will away the prospect of violence, the mere fact of their land being invaded, and the Earth being destroyed made the Sons of the Earth want their heads. The prince was more impatient that anyone. He had not had the chance to fight real enemies in some time and he was gladly anticipating testing out his skills and fighting prowess on those…He wanted to think of a cruller word to replace humans but not even the vilest of insults would do. To call them avaricious was an insult. He clicked the muscles in his neck before running a hand over the hilt of his sword and whispered something in the elven tongue that his warriors could not catch before sending a prayer of strength to the gods to guide him in the coming fight. Just as he was about to fuel the fire in his soldiers for the battle ahead all the magical creatures, whether goblin, elf or troll lowered their heads and placed their hands on their hearts. Nuada taken aback slightly as their sovereign, his father King Balor swept through the lines of armoured creatures, elegant footfalls barely stirring the dust as the elven leader was prepared to fight. A sleek red and gold lined battle suit lined his body, dual blades of the sharpest elven steel by his sides as his horned head drifted through the ranks of his people, every creature honoured that he would come to the front lines. For a moment the prince was stunned by the appearance of his father on the battlefield but when he was a young elven boy had remembered seeing his father in combat and he was an impressive warrior in his own right. For a moment the prince stood in a defensive stance, preparing for his father to tear him limb from limb as their relationship was fractured at best, father and son standing face to face before the king clapped a bunched fist to his heart and bowed at the waist. At this the prince did not know how to respond. He and his father had reached an inescapable impasse over the past few months, their dividing opinions over humanity clashing and his relationship with Bamba, he would think it logical for his father to anger at him, but no such thing happened. Instead the prince just gazed at his father for a moment, the elven king with dark golden eyes until the gesture was reciprocated, his heart emboldened and surely the hearts of his people to see their leader on the front lines. His long white-blonde hair fell over his pointed ears as he returned the bow, hand rapped to his chest and two made eye contact and a mutual respect was formed.
"The Sons of Adam will soon be upon us. I take it upon myself as both a duty and an honour to join you all, my people in defending our land" the elf king's voice resonated across the battlefield for all magical beings to hear and some rallying cries from a few goblins and trolls filled the air.
"It is an honour to fight beside you father…" the prince said, straightening up to his full height, golden eyes burning with intensity at the coming battle as the elven king clasped his son's armoured shoulder in a strong and confident grip as he gave him a knowing look, the other hand resting on the hilt of one of his blades.
"The honour is mine, my son. Now let us make these intruders regret ever choosing to fight against us" Balor spoke with fire in his voice as alone with the rest of his people and his son, the most prestigious warrior the Earth could produce they waited with strong wills and hearts for the fight to begin.
A gruelling hour later and the waiting game had paid off. The magical creatures could have assumed that the humans were not going to attack this day, but their king had told them to hold their positions and the command had bared fruit. Shadows of figures began to stalk slowly towards them until when they got closer it turned out that the figures were running, lines and lines armoured men brandishing swords and their own types of bow, ready to strike. The elven king gave the command and as fast as he could have spoke the words the prince had unsheathed his weapon, spinning it over and over in a deadly one-handed grip as if taunting the oncoming human soldiers. The Sons of the Earth brandished their weapons, made them visible for threat before the lines of elven warriors extracted their staves in a perfect synchronised motion as each warrior swept them in front of each other as if to impale and impede. The humans kept coming forward issuing a fierce battle cry, coming from the heart of their army as they charged towards the elven lines not recognising the danger as they raised their own weapons, poised to attack. Just wanting to defend their land they did not want to press the attack but in the end the prince gave the command, regretting that this day had come but it was long overdue.
"Attack! For Bethmoora. For our home!" The prince shouted in the ancient tongue as every creature sprung into action, goblins and trolls rushing forward to fell the oncoming hoard of men, while elven steel clanged against the swords of the Sons of Adam. The back row of elven warriors strung and notched arrows to their hand-crafted bows as they launched a storm of arrows into the human ranks, sending some of them scattering but still they pressed the attack. The Sons of Adam clashed their swords against the fighting prowess and magical talents of the Sons of the Earth and the battle had begun.
Two hours into the battle and a great number from both sides had been lost but thanks to the sheer skill of the elven warriors on the ground and their fighting prowess they were gaining some advantage. The prince threw a frantic gaze right, handsome face spattered with dirt and dried human blood to see his father running through two men before his other sword moved with him, whirling in a crimson circle to cut another's head from his shoulders. Magical creatures, all innocent and only fighting to defend their home, goblins, trolls, imps and ogres fell to the blades of the humans but the steadfastness of the Sons of the Earth was taking its toll. Knowing his father was an adept warrior and could handle himself the prince threw himself into the heart of the battle, seeing another of his people felled by a human blade spurring him more as he dodged, weaved, spun, creating a dazzling web of movement that could vex even the most potent of warriors. A blur of red and black as each move had a purpose, each step a result, whether to parry or to kill. A human had a knife to his back, but he failed to measure just who he was fighting as the prince converged on him in an instant, spear impaling him in the chest as he quickly retrieved his weapon as the human collapsed to the floor. Another human this time from his right and a second from his front flank but he nimbly ducked under the first blow before parrying with deadly precision, slicing a deep gash in his leg, sending him to the ground before the human now on his left side received a vicious kick to the ribs before the prince followed up his attack, extending his spear through his leap to stab the human in the throat. Ogres and trolls lent their bulk and brute strength to the fight, snapping limbs in half and crushing skulls as opponents on both sides were felled.
Another half an hour passed, the elven ranks depleted but still holding firm as both father and son were now lost in their unbridled power and unaltered might, their ability to slay their enemies one by one until there was nothing left. Human gore flecked the fighting garments of the elven warriors, but they pressed the attack and drove them back, staves impaling and slicing with intricate precision, slicing through human flesh and bone. A threat to the prince's left but this time was blind to it as he dispatched the humans to his right and behind with an accurate scythe of his weapon but luckily the prince had many allies. A sharp blade was just about to be stabbed through his side when an almighty roar sounded behind him and his friend Wink, a troll well versed in combat, grabbed the human's head in his huge hand and there was a sickening ripping of flesh as Wink broke his neck in an instant. Temporally the danger was gone as the prince clapped his troll friend on the shoulder, appreciating him for his help.
"You fight well Wink. Perhaps you and I should spar together more often…" the prince offered as realising they were still far from done, humans pressing in around the two elven warriors they continued to shred through the human ranks, their blades and limbs moving so fast they almost blurred as Wink went on his own rampage. He simply barged humans out of his path, shattering bones and tearing skin as he went. The troll was on a path of his own destruction and would not rest until he sent the humans home crying! His brutish style contrasted greatly with the acrobatic and athletic style of the elves but nevertheless it got the job done. Ever thankful for the assistance of his friend the deadly father and son duet set about culling the rest of the enemies. Their weapons moving as one, two warriors in harmony with each other. Some humans now retreating after seeing the slaying of their people, thinking taking over the Earth was not worth this much blood. Fighting garments and blades now coated in gore, the prince flipped elegantly into a low crouch before beheading a human to his left as his father acrobatically landed beside him, twin blades in both his hands, the blood still fresh on the elven steel. Giving each other an understanding nod of the head, they leapt into another deadly combination until the ground was thick with the corpses of man, the elves that remained and troll fighters driving the rest of the human army into retreat. For a moment father and son stood in silence, breathing hard in their chests, brooding on the fight that had just been. Even though the Sons of the Earth felt as if the battle was won the king and his son turned their gazes to the scene before them, the carnage that had just ensued and the prince felt a spiral of hot ire burning through his chest, like his lungs were going to combust. Tears stung the backs of his dark rimmed eyes as his father lowered his swords before putting a firm yet kind hand on his shoulder and guiding him into a slow walk by his side. The devastation of the land and of his people was difficult to take in at first as his black boots stirred the dust beneath his feet, treading through gore of various magical races, ripped wings and torn limbs. The prince wanted to shout a vicious threat over his shoulder at the fleeing humans, wanting them to never come back but the comforting grip of the stoic hand on his shoulder stopped him from doing so. It was a day to revel in victory and a day to mourn the dead as yes, the Sons of the Earth may have driven the humans off for now, but they would return and when they did they would be an even larger threat. Balor waded through the chaos around him, shaking his horned head in distain as he clasped his son's shoulder a little tighter, wanting more than anything to mend the bond between them but sadly he knew one battle would not change that. Looking at his kin and other members of the magical races lying lifeless on the ground was saddening his heart, so the prince spoke first to break the silence.
"You fought well father…" the prince complimented, admitting he was impressed by his father's fighting talents and was pleased he'd got to see his power now he was almost fully grown. The king replied, voice filled with almost admiration as he had watched his boy grow into a fine young warrior who would one day make a fine ruler and would govern the Sons of the Earth with honour and respect.
"I am glad to see you have been honing your skills my son. I know not of a warrior to match your equal. Many humans died by your hand today…Perhaps more than mine…" Balor threw the wager at him as the prince raised an eyebrow at him, knowing his father was trying to make light of the situation but there was no glossing over this. The blood of many Sons of the Earth had been spilt as while both royal elves surveyed their dead a familiar face met his eyes and was shocked to find his friend lying on the ground, willowy skin stained with dirt as blood stained the earthy ground around him. He broke away from his father instantly as he knelt by his side, attempting to find a pulse but it was weak and irregular. The young elven warrior was dying, his chest having been pierced twice by a dagger of some description as the stab wounds were small but fatal, blood spilling from the mortal injury.
"Eriann! Eriann please speak to me!" the prince cried, holding his hand close to his chest as the sound of ragged breathing, but breathing none the less reached his ears as the elven warrior gurgled on his own blood, chest upheaving in pain as he went about giving his friend the best possible comfort. His friend could not respond as the life was leaving him. "Eriann, the gods will not let you die and nor will I. I will make them all pay for what they've done to us. Just you see if I don't!" the elven prince raged as he was about to inspect and patch up the major wound for healing but in that moment, he drew his last breath and the life faded from his golden eyes, his arm falling limp to the floor. Stunned at the sudden loss of his friend's life the prince tried frantically to revive him, trying to stop the flow of blood and feel for a pulse but in the end his father put a comforting hand on his shoulder and spoke the sad truth.
"Son, it's over. There was not enough time. He is with the gods now" the king explained, his heart heavy from the battle-hardened day as parts of the magical races and troops that had earnt their survival trekked over the ground to their families and people who needed them most, but it was difficult to take everything in, especially when a close friend had just died. Realising nothing he could do would bring his friend back, for the first time since he was a child the tears came to the surface and this time he could do nothing to stop them. His voice was a tremble at first but then the anger burst forth, the anger that his father and his people were afraid of.
"They killed him. Those human savages took my friend away from me. He has always been there for me and I never got the chance personally thank him…He's gone…" the prince exhaled forcefully before straightening up and swiping his tears away with the back of his hand. "These human filth will pay. They will all pay, and I will make them! They will regret ever coming to our lands and hurting my people. This war shall continue, and we shall defeat them once and for all. We will take ten humans heads for every one of ours! I promise all the other creatures of the Earth and my people this shall happen! If they attack us again they will all die!" the prince's calm head suddenly snapped as the anger writhed within him like a shadowy dragon, the king trying to reason with him but in a flurry of red and black the prince sheathed his weapon and marched along the ground away from him, ire palpable in his firm step. Fury wrestling in his gut he went to find Wink and then he would find Bamba, the one person who could make him see peace when all there was, was darkness.
Still shocked from the sudden outburst of his son Balor stood firm yet strong in the same spot, swords now sheathed at his sides as he laid a hand on Eriann's head, speaking a prayer in the ancient language to the gods, wishing his soul well in the afterlife before absorbing the scale of the destruction around him and it hit close to his heart. As he strode through the corpses of goblins, ogres, trolls and his fellow elves Eriann's body turned to dust, crumbling away and just as he had been born of the Earth he was returning to it. Upon the death of any Son of the Earth this was the cycle, particularly for the elves. Balor heaved his weary body to the top of the hill, under a towering tree and surveyed the scene before him, lifeless corpses of his kin, the innocent creatures littered the ground, along with the dead frames of man. This world was indeed a precious place but was this war worth this much bloodshed and destruction? Slaughter on this scale filled the king with dread and it dug a hole in his heart to fathom how much longer this fighting would last for. The elven king placed a hand to his forehead, heart weighed down by sadness and fatigue as this was a tragic day in the history of the Earth and all he could do was gaze out in despair over the battleground and mourn for the loss of his people.