The Shattered Star
Chapter 1
The Red March
A small fort stood atop a hill overlooking the valley constructed mainly of wood and stone. Long since abandoned by its originally owners it had since become the home of a small group of mages who were seeking refuge from their persecution, they knew all along that eventually they would be discovered but had hoped that perhaps a fortified location would lend them an advantage in the coming days. They had bolstered their defences with the use of their own abilities, casting a thick cold fog across their haven and the surrounding valley. Two men stood at the top of one of the walls overlooking the fog drenched fields that lay in the valley, both showing clear signs of concern and worry in their expression. One had long black hair tied back in a tail, dressed in fine looking deep blue robes, the kind of robes that would be expected by a formal diplomat. He gripped a staff in one hand while nervously tugging at the tassels on his golden silk rope belt. His partner was slightly taller and much older, and ancient looking man with long white hair and a bushy thick white beard. His robes were a deep blue with an intricately embroiled gold stitched pattern, he to held his grip harshly on a staff as he scowled into the surrounding fog. The shorter of the two finally broke the cold silence as he broke his gaze from the valley.
"It is only a matter of time before they find us, Azrael." The younger mage looked at Azrael with an obvious sense of concern in his words.
"There is no where we can run that is truly safe from them...They will grant you reprieve if you denounce your teachings young Luccas." He shook his head slowly as he struggled with the situation in his own thoughts.
"I will never denounce my teachings! We will stand by you to the very end!" Scolded Luccas as he dug the tip of his staff into the wooden floor he was stood on. Azrael gave a small smile to Luccas, an attempt to quench the fear he could sense in his partner, but he himself struggled to give solace to those around him when he himself feared what lay ahead for them. He fixed his gaze back out into the distance as he peered absently into the moons gentle glow as if trying to find some kind of peace in it. They pair fell back into a cold silence.
Deep in the fog lurked the horse mounted army of the Shattered Star. They marched in perfect symmetry both horse and soldier alike clad in the white armour of their order trimmed beautifully with gold lining, topped with the brilliant red cloak draped across one shoulder hanging elegantly down the side. Their faces completely covered by the full face helmet carved into the image of an emotionless face, lined with a gold plume of solid metal. Each knight armed with a perfect long sword hanging effortlessly at his side, the hilt forged into the shape of a gold dragons head as etchings of flame litter the lower portions of the blade. Accompanying these mounted soldiers were the monstrous war machines that were feared by both Mages and Common people alike, huge battering rams and ballisters dragged through the battlefield by the frail shackled slaves of the Shattered Star. Large horse drawn cages forged from pure steel and dark light followed close by, the final place for those who chose to surrender over the choice of death. Scattered throughout this perfect holy army were the banners of the order, an ivory and maroon backdrop decorated again with golden stitching in the image of an eye. The chorus of noise tore through the silence of the cold fog. The orders barked from Captains joint by the clamouring noise of armour rattling with the march, followed by the soul shattering groans of the war machines as they were forced through the thick mud. At the head of the march rode the General, his look exactly the same as his brethren all except for gold crown crafted into his helmet. He was joined by another soldier who rode up alongside him.
"My lord, the forward scouts have located the stronghold to the East." The knight bowed his head as he spoke.
"Were you given any indication of numbers?" Responded the General as he nodded his head in return.
"Reports suggest that there are fifty maybe sixty." Again the knight bowed his head in respect to his superior.
"Very well, return to your position." With this the knight bowed his head with one last show of respect to his General as he turned tail and rode back off to his place. Meanwhile, the General gazed up at the night sky observing the gentle glow of the moon as it attempted to pierce the seemingly unending fog.
To the mages in the stronghold it seemed as if an eternity had passed. Each one of them knew that this was the night they must fight; they knew that time drew nearer with every passing moment yet it seemed to never arrive. There demeanour of the fort was a mixture of fear and subtle confidence. It was clear that there were those who had been running and fighting for many years now and were used to what they would face on this night. But on the other side there were those who were new to running and fighting, some of whom had never seen the Shattered Star and only heard stories of them. Azrael still stood atop the wall gazing out across the valley, his expression stone like as he confided in his own thoughts working his way through the arranged strategies. He turned to face down into the courtyard where the majority of the little resistance stood nervously awaiting their destiny. His voice was deep and powerful, his words strong and confident never betraying the fear and doubt he was feeling inside.
"We have stood together for many moons my friends. Some of us have fought side by side for years gone by, others have newly joined us...To you, I cannot promise that you will make it out alive. I cannot give that promise to anyone within these walls, not even myself. The enemy that approaches is like none other of this world or the next, the beasts of Oblivion fear them and their name. The enemy holds no fear, lead by their unyielding faith in their Gods, each prepared for death...It is for this reason that their attack with be unrelenting, but we must be strong and stand united against them. Who can I rely on to stand with me on this night?" The high mage raised his staff in a triumphant shout as he raised his forced spirits; his flock had now descended into cheers and battle cries.
With his final words Azrael spun and focused his attention back on the valley as the others scurried around and began preparing themselves for the coming battle. While some moved large wooden beams to help hold the gates shut and secure any potential weak points, others were erecting ramparts in key location just behind the gates forming small spiked blockades. A few mages had reached the tops of the watch towers and were busy casting other incantations and hexes on the surrounding areas, rain began to lash down onto the ground turning it to a slippery mass of mud and streams as a carpet of explosive glyphs rained down onto the grounds sinking into it concealing themselves. Thick storm clouds began to roll in as the rain became more intense drenching the land around the fort turning it into a treacherous landscape. At that moment the war horns of the marching hoards of the Shattered Star bellowed through the fog as slowly the glows from torchlight's began to appear on the horizon. Eventually the sound was joined by the sinister unveiling of the army finally coming into view as it cut its way through the fog, much too far away to make out exact numbers as the large mass came to an abrupt halt. Many of the mages had climbed the walls to inspect their enemy, the gasps of shock and horror as the younger members were finally greeted by the sight of the realms holy army. The war horns had come to a stop as the mass just remained silent on the horizon, until suddenly the delayed thud of a ballister being fired broke the eerie silence of the army. The huge razor edged torpedo literally screamed through the air as it crashed into the ground before the large door of the fort, chained to the large wooden shaft of the torpedo were the mutilated bodies of expendable slaves to the order, their cries designed to shatter the moral of the enemy as they were forced to watch their kin writhe in pain.
"Surrender and they will let you go free!" Screamed one of the chained slaves.
It was clear that this approach was working to its intended purpose as a number of the mages had broken rank and fallen back to the courtyard in fear and to try and escape the blood curdling screams. Azrael raised his hand and bellowed to his people, his voice like thunder.
"Stand strong my friends! We must not surrender!"
"We cannot dare stand against such an enemy! Azrael we must surrender if we are to survive!" Responded a nearby mage who was quivering with fear.
Azrael had turned his attention back towards the army that faced them who had begun to move now finally coming into plain sight. After what felt to them like another eternity the Shattered Star had reached the fort and were standing at just a safe enough distance so not to trigger any of the traps. The General lifted a scroll from his side and unrolled it holding it in front of him as he roared through the sound of the rain.
"By order of the Governors of Tamriel, all believed to be practising the arcane arts are to surrender immediately or face the punishment of death!" The General filled his words with a cold confidence and a tone of authority as he awaited a response.
Azrael shook his head slowly to himself as he pointed to the torpedo lined with the bodies of slaves, some still partially alive but others had given their last breath by now.
"If we surrender...This is how we are to end our days, attached to one of you barbaric war machines and used as an implement of fear used against the innocent...If we are to choose death, then we shall die on this night fighting for what we believe in. Tell me General...Does your Gods have a place reserved for you in their presence for the crimes that you commit?" His voice had fallen cold and was now filled with rage, without any warning he cast a ball of pure flame at the General incinerating the scroll in his hands to nothing more than cinders and ashes.
The General bowed his head in a sarcastic gesture of respect to the old man as he turned his attention to the soldier at his side and nodded once to which the soldier turned his horse and raised his fist high in the air sending a signal as the army began to split into two making way for another group of shackled slaves who were herded along by a single knight wielding a whip. He pushed them forward until they were on the edge of the make shift mine field and then with one foul crack of his metal studded whip pushed them over that safety line as the first slave was greeted by a glyph detonating on impact turning him to no more than a fine mist. This sight alone was enough to send other slaves into a panic as they attempted to double back on themselves only to be met by the scream of the horse as it reared up onto its hind legs forcing them back into the field as more explosion went off wiping out more of them, the field was filled with sounds of anguished screams and explosions.. Both the slaves and the mages were struck with shock at what they were witnessing, this apparent holy army were monsters in their own right. Once the final slave had met their fate in a flurry of tears and cries for forgiveness the next wave moved in, this time a group of slaves dragging a huge battering dragon faced battering ram into place.
"This is your final warning Mage...Surrender now or be stricken from this world!" Roared the General as his horse stamped its hoof and snorted.
"Well then General...It seems you will need to strike us from this world." Azrael seemed rather calm about the whole situation; he had become desensitized to these things throughout his years.
"So be it...May the Gods have mercy upon your soul...For we shall have none." He bowed his head to the mage who returned the gesture in what was some kind of twisted semblance of respect between leaders.
With this final passing of words the battering ram began to groan into life as yet again the slaves were forced pull the ropes, their sobs filled the air as they knew they were responsible for the deaths that would occur on that night. Every thud of the battering ram caused splinters of wood to crumble as the gate began to weaken. Meanwhile the Shattered Star continued to stand at their safe distance until the gate had fallen, neither side speaking just watching and waiting. Finally the gate burst open spurring the two sides into life, no sooner had the last piece of shattered wood the battle erupted into life as the mages began to frantically throw whatever magical essence they could conjure at the mounted knights of the Shattered Star began to flood into the fort like a plague. The sounds of balls of magical essence screaming their way through the air exploding on impact and the savage battle cries of the knights rang through the air echoing throughout the valley as the battled raged on within the fort. A trembling woman stood on a stairway casting a volley of burning fire into the fray as she screamed with both fear and vigour, this constant flurry attracted the attention of a group of nearby knights who charged her dragging her from the stairs and casting her into the puddles of murky water and blood on the floor. Before she was able to get back to her feet or at least attempt to escape she was stopped by a sudden boot to the side of the head as the knights each plunged their swords into her stomach as she continued to scream in pain sobbing endlessly as her life slowly slipped away. Elsewhere on the blooded battlefield Azrael was swinging his staff with expert precision and power knocking soldiers to the ground, he jabbed a charging knight in the throat with the tip of his staff before crouching and slamming his palm onto the ground producing a circle of fire engulfing the fallen soldiers that surrounded him, their anguished screams as they began to bolt around drenched in fire rang like the sweet dawn chorus to his ears. The General caught sight of this as he began to hastily walk through the battle towards the elderly mage but was stopped as from out of nowhere he was struck by a plank of wood from behind, spinning on he's heels he caught the gaze of another trembling mage who was now partially cowering before him.
"Please...Forgive me!" Screamed the man as he raised his hands in defeat.
The General had none of it as her grabbed the trembling man by the throat throwing him to the ground and placing his foot on his chest. The man's tearful cries for mercy caught no sign of remorse from the General as he raised his steel clad boot bringing it down repeatedly stamping on his chest shattering bone and tearing flesh. In a moment of pure blood lust and rage he swung his mighty blade in a crescent moon motion as he spun around again to face the old mage, his sword met the flesh of a fleeing child severing his arm as his blood curdling scream caught the attention of almost the entire battlefield. Azrael, now enthralled with anger unleashed a wave of fire directed towards the General who dropped to his knee and covered himself with his cloak, once the fire had subsided he ran at the elderly mage knocking him flying through the air with his sheer weight and power behind his tackle standing above the mage and lowered the tip of his blade running it down the side of his face and laying it to rest on the throat of his fallen enemy.
"Tell your people to surrender old man and I may consider granting them forgiveness." The Generals voice was harsh and cold as he pressed the tip into the neck.
"We would rather die than surrender...You...You are the real monster here." Azrael snapped his words as he bore his teeth, he knew they had been defeated and he had expected it to end this way.
It had been a fierce battle and both sides had lost soldiers, but none had tasted defeat quite like mages had. They battlefield lay littered with the tattered and torn bodies of both mage and knight, some still clinging feebly onto life while others were so far gone that even Oblivion itself had no use for them now. The fires of arcane explosion also scattered this barren field of death as what remained of the mages were rounded up into rows in the courtyard and forced onto their knees. The General marched Azrael out onto the wall of the fort so that he could clearly see the entire courtyard.
"Is this the life you want for your people mage?" The General had a rather persuasive tone to his voice, as if trying to sway the decision of the old man.
"Is this the life you want for your people General?" Azrael peered searchingly at the General trying to see through the eye slits in the helmet almost trying to connect to the person inside the armour and not just the symbolic mask he had become.
The General responded with a sneer as he knocked the old man to his knees, much to the disdain of the prisoners who let out a gasp. He nodded to his own soldiers who were quick to move into place as they surrounded the courtyard and those in it.
"You are being given one final chance at redemption. Your crimes can be forgiven, repent the sins of you former ways. This man here cannot save you, he is nothing more than a wretched cheat sent by the shadows themselves to corrupt you...On your knees here and now repent and you shall be cleansed!" The General paced his perch as he shouted down to the prisoners.
A few of the prisoners nodded in agreement as they were more than eager to repent their ways if it meant they would be given a chance at freedom. Those who surrendered were quickly shackled and cast into the large iron cages that lay by the sides, the confused murmurs of those who had surrendered began to rise as they were eventually removed from the courtyard to join the army outside. Those who remained were rounded up into a tight nit group and shackled in the centre as the General began to drag the old mage to join his people. Turning on his heels he began to leave the courtyard stopping just as he was about to exit the fort.
"Burn this wretched place to the ground commander." The General nodded to one of the soldiers by his side as he left the fort.
As he left the fort the anguished screams of the remaining prisoners began to rise into the night as they had become aware the shackles were lined with Dark Light and thus stopping them from casting any form of magic and were powerless to stop the approaching flames. Azrael lowered his head and shut his eyes tightly as he allowed one final tear to escape him before the fires finally reached him and his people.