The Unity War - Chapter One: The Incident at Wabash Field (444 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.78 on 19 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Dervish (View user info) at 2007-07-12 16:48:54 EDT
The first Great Age found we, all Peoples of this World, united under a single Throne. Beneath the watchful Eye and just Hand of the King Briareus the lands thrived with plenty, a global trade was established and prospered and War was a thing unknown. The Royal Line produced rulers as noble as their predecessors for ten generations, and we knew Happiness and Peace.
Beneath these, however, hidden silently away in the dark recesses of the secrets of Men, festered and swelled a force that would undo what Briareus and his progeny had laboured to wrought. Behind locked doors, in rooms unlit by candle, torch, or lamp, small groups studied and sought to harness this force for their own Purposes.
They called it Magic, and with it no Army or Navy of any size could stand against them.
These Men and Women would not remain invisible for long, however, as the faithful Eyes and Ears of the Throne were many, and ever vigilant. The King Leonard came to know them and to know their Ways; they could yoke and command the very elements of Nature. The flames of the Steelsmith's forge, the icy North Wind, and even the furious and sudden bolts from the Heavens were at their beck and call. It was whispered, although never witnessed, that some could bring a Man back from the threshold of Death, or otherwise rip the Soul from the flesh, slaying him where he stood with neither mark nor wound. To conjure such things from nothing was viewed as unnatural, as against the Order of the World, and as understanding of these select Few became widespread, fear and unrest were sown among the People.
Leonard, in his Wisdom and Tolerance, made open and peaceful attempts to ascertain the intentions of these individuals, and it seemed as though they were content to simply spend their lives in Study, learning how to further their Ability. Many were eager to develop methods to use Magic to benefit the People, and although he was hesitant to have such a Power exist unregulated, Leonard enacted a law that allowed them to peacefully practice their Talent without Repercussion or Prejudice. They were to be protected.
The People, however, as he would soon learn, would not be assuaged even by his assurances. They feared these Magic users even more once they wee no longer abashed to weave their Work publicly, and Scrutiny and Hatred began to sprout from those terrible seeds. These vile Weeds would soon bear fruit in the form of a new Religion.
The Church of Annis Our Mother arose first in the great City Gruenwald, the Seat of the Throne itself, and preached a Doctrine of divine Creation by the Goddess Annis. The World, such as it was, had been willed into Existence out of Her boundless Benevolence, and its Order was Her Design. The workings of Nature, of Life and Death, was Her doing, and Hers alone, and it was not Man's place to question or attempt to control it. And while the Church taught its parishioners love and compassion for all living things, the underlying message was clear: those who could use Magic were abominations, sinners who tread where they ought not. They were not to be trusted or welcomed, and for the first time they were given a name, an odious Title that would forever label them as outsiders and pariahs.
They were called Witches.
The King Leonard endeavoured with all his Influence to counteract the Church's growing supremacy, but in his efforts to maintain Peace in the Realm he refused to disband the faith by Force. He could only denounce the acts of violence against Witches that appeared in his daily reports and stand by, impotent, as the Mother Annis began to consolidate a Following that rivaled his own.
In response to the Church's unspoken antagonism against them, small groups of Witches migrated to Gruenwald and formed the Collective, a society dedicated to increasing their Knowledge and preserving their Way of Life. They stood in open opposition to the Church, claiming their Right to exist without Persecution and vowing to remain pacifists in the face of Hatred and Intolerance.
Amidst the growing enmity between these two institutions, King Leonard, now in his third score year and still without heir, at last sired a child to great Celebration. She was given the inauspicious name of Helena, and she grew into a woman of understated but wholesome beauty. She was praised for her Modesty and Wisdom, and was expected to ascend to the Throne upon the passing of her father and rule with the same Honour as those that preceded her.
All of this would sadly not come to pass, as at the age of eighteen the Princess Helena first manifested the Talent. Aware of the implications of this, the ailing Leonard strove to keep his daughter's Ability a secret. The Church's watchdogs, however, now under orders to ferret out new Witches lest they elect to join the Collective and become potential adversaries, came to know of this, and set a most drastic plot in action to prevent a Witch from ruling the Land. On the eve of her twentieth birthday, assassins stole into the Princess Helena's bedchamber and dispatched her before sunrise.
When news of her death became public, the Church cardinals issued the Hirschfeld Report, detailing the results of a supposed investigation performed by their informants that placed the blame of the Murder upon the Collective elders who, furious at an apparent refusal of the Princess to follow their ranks, ordered and arranged the Act. The Collective, in turn, proffered their own statement, disavowing any knowledge of the incident and claiming that the Church was behind it.
The Queen, meanwhile, succumbed to her Grief, and took her own Life, throwing herself from her balcony into the public courtyard below. King Leonard, at this time too weak to stand to stand, died of Damp Lung two days later without naming the next ruler.
The Emergency Council convened for the first time in over a hundred years to decide a suitable Individual to take the Throne and quell the Chaos that ensued. Composed of several prominent Church supporters, the Council was swayed by the evidence collected in the Hirschfeld Report and threw their support behind High Cardinal Isham, at once a pious and devout Follower of Annis and a savvy and cunning Politician.
Isham rose to Power and quickly set to eliminating what he deemed "the greatest Threat to the great Realm that has ever been": the Witches. He ordered the immediate dissolution of the Collective, outlawed the assembly of Witches and the practice of the Talent, and placed Death Warrants on any who resisted. Members of the Collective fled Gruenwald and scattered to the Four Winds. The few who remained to revolt were quickly slaughtered.
Whole regions of the Realm, outraged by the Brutality and refusing to be ruled by a burgeoning Theocracy, seceded and soon found themselves thrown into a Civil War as Isham turned his Hand against them, branding the tiny newborn nations as Heretics.
So ended the first Great Age.
- M. Kiris, excerpt from "Illuminous: A History",
c. 1572 N.R.
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At this time we have no new information regarding the incident at Wabash Field. We assure the Duke that our investigation is progressing with all due speed and that we will submit a full report once we are satisfied that we can accurately account for the incredible casualties suffered at the hands of the Gruenwald Army. Our deepest sympathies ae due the mothers, sisters, daughters and wives of this land who have lost, and continue to lose, their men to this terrible war.
- Gen. Nathaniel Bendis, official correspondence
to the Duke of Caldon, c. 1568
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Samael awoke to the scream of an eagle wheeling high overhead in the predawn sky. He remained still a moment, relishing the warmth and comfort of his blanket and bedroll while the sounds of others stirring and extinguishing their campfires filled the crisp air. He inhaled deeply and felt the gentle fog of sleep settling down upon him once more when a rough kick to his side interrupted him.
"Oi, whelp, on yer feet." Another kick quickly followed. The squad leader bent with an annoyed grunt, took him by the shoulders and hauled him to a stand. He shoved his jowled, grizzled face inches from Samael's and slapped him on the cheek. "You forget where you are, boy?"
Samael struggled out of his grasp. "No, sir," he replied curtly.
"See that you don't!" He turned his attention to the few others still dozing and raised his voice to rouse them. "As for the rest of you slags, listen well! YOU are conscripts in the Caldon Army, I am your squad leader, and WE are here today to keep those White Light dogs camped at the other end of this pathetic spit of a field OUT of our precious lands!"
If he was expecting an enthusiastic outcry of support, he did not receive it; all Samael's fellows managed were a few meek groans as they struggled to their feet. This only seemed to infuriate him further. "All of you layabouts, set to! Douse those fires and gear up or so help me I'll kill you myself! You, there, show some discipline or I'll send you out there naked as the day you were born!" With that, he stomped off to torment another poor soul.
Samael knelt to bundle his sleeping effects beside another soldier. "Trumped-up fathead," he muttered, eliciting a chuckle from his peer.
"You're not far off," he grinned. "He's from my village. Farms pigs."
"Well, that'd explain the stench," Samael replied, stooping near a bucket of water to splash a handful on his youthful face before rising and pulling his leather breastplate onto his lithe frame. "Becoming a first-class arse seems like a step up from that." His compatriot laughed nervously before turning to his own preparations.
Sam pivoted on his heel and surveyed the battlefield. The erstwhile slop-slinger had been right about one thing; the so-called disputed territory was scarcely two hundred yards long and only half as wide, but it served as one of merely two entrances through Caldon's eastern boundary, surrounded as it was on three sides by the daunting Rangashal Mountain Range. He reckoned that was why Gruenwald had delayed so long in its efforts to invade. He still couldn't fathom the reason for the attempted occupation; Caldon was hardly a military threat. It was a nation of farming, mining, and small industry, not war making. The Duke had only just managed to amass an adequate force to meet Gruenwald here today, and only then through the use of bribery and threats. Yes, he had chosen to secede like many others, but he had done so for purely political reasons; Caldon housed no Witches, and its sons and daughters were no enemies of Annis. This was about power and control, pure and simple.
He sighed dejectedly, strapping his broadsword and sheath to his back. The display of force on the other side was tremendous; Gruenwald's tactics were simple and brutally effective: terribly outnumber the opposition and smash it into oblivion on the initial charge. It had yet to lose even a minor skirmish since it launched its campaign eight months ago, and nothing was likely to change now.
"We're all going to die," Samael muttered, tensing his muscles to stop his shaking. "Damn that King and his thrice-cursed daughter."
The squad leader returned, this time himself armed and on horseback. "All forces, form ranks and assemble on the front line!" he barked, then wheeled his mount around and rode away. Samael shivered; the wind was picking up, bringing large clouds with it and sharpening the bite in the air. He joined a large group of his comrades and made his way to the front, where he located the rest of his squad.
There was much murmuring afoot already, mainly concerning collective plans to retreat at the first available opportunity. Though he remained silent, Samael couldn't have agreed more. Northlanders were known for their courage; generations spent attempting to settle so harsh a land saw that it all but ran in their very blood. Of equal renown and likely sprung from the same source, however, were their independence and stubbornness, and it was clear that few gathered there were prepared to give their lives for a cause for which they harboured no faith.
After all, what good was freedom to a dead man?
Within minutes, the Caldon Regular Army, in its entirety of no more than five thousand, had assumed their positions. A heavily armoured figure atop a warhorse trotted out to address them. It came to a halt just to Samael's right and paused for a moment before lifting its face guard to reveal a stern and bearded visage.
"Protectors of Caldon," his voice boomed over the gale. "My name is Nathaniel Bendis, and I am your commander."
Samael snorted. So this was the mouthpiece the Duke had acquired to lead them all into the Hereafter. He doubted he was even a native; probably some ousted Gruenwald lapdog now serving the other side to maintain his lifestyle.
He continued. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you why you are here." The general's eyes passed over his men. "You are here because you were ordered so." The disgruntled chatter among the soldiers ceased instantly. "Know that I hold no illusions about your feelings. I myself find this war unreasonable and unnecessary. The notion that we must fight, that we must die, to protect our way of life is the cruelest twist, the most bitter fate." He urged his horse forward to slowly make his way down the line. "But circumstance has conspired against us, and so struggle we must, with swords drawn and teeth bared, to force back a Throne that we all know to be illegitimate. Your Duke has refused this rule out of memory of our last great King, and to remain justly governed so must we all. Our adversary is many, and I cannot promise that you will all still live when the sun sets on this day, but you have my most solemn vow that so long as we continue to fight, that which is good and right will triumph. So help me, it will." He stopped and turned his eyes to Samael's squad. "Remember your training, fight with bravery, and you will be honoured." He flipped his face guard shut. "All battalions, make ready to charge." With that, he rode off to rejoin the rear.
Samael shifted nervously. Although he hated to admit it, the general's words had stirred him somewhat. A small part of him wondered whether they would be enough. The squad leader addressed them once more. "Enough stalling," he roared. "All of you, follow me!" He turned, and began to ride to the other side. Samael and his fellows followed suit.
It was not long before he could make out the other side beginning to advance. They quickened their pace until they broke into a full run, sprinting across the uncultivated field. Sam smoothly unsheathed his blade, closely behind the pig farmer, and suddenly became aware that his voice had joined those of the soldiers around him in a mighty war cry that enveloped their ranks. With an abrupt jolt of clashing steel, the Caldon Regulars met the Gruenwald Army head-on.
All kinds of death hit around him at once. The squad leader tumbled from his mount almost instantly, dispatched with two wicked arrows that appeared seemingly from nowhere. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring in disbelief down at his face, already frozen in a look of sudden shock. His sword fell from his numb fingers. He went deaf.
Before he could react, he was sent sprawling when a Gruenwald infantryman slammed into him with full strength. He fumbled clumsily for his blade, his fingers grasping desperately only at wild grass and soil before, blissfully, closing around the familiar hilt. He brought the blade up to barely deflect a killing blow, then rolled to the side and leapt to his feet. With a yell he thrust the weapon forward, burying it into his assailant's chest. He gurgled and shuddered once, then dropped to the ground.
Samael grimaced, withdrew his sword, then lifted it above his head and brought it back down across the back of another soldier, slaying him and splashing his face with Gruenwald blood. He whirled around and charged headlong into the center of the fray.
He lost his senses, furiously setting upon any figure dressed in the pure white of Gruenwald. Rage replaced apprehension and battle burned in his muscles as he killed one after another. None could approach him; he was a whirlwind of destruction, a force of nature, felling men as though they were sheaves of wheat. He became aware that the Regulars were holding the ground; indeed, Gruenwald was slowly beginning to back down.
Before long, the White Lighters broke into a full retreat. The red cloud over his vision faded as he watched them flee, a satisfied grin on his face. A victorious cheer went up from his side, and he joined in.
It was only with a cursory glance toward the Gruenwald side that he noticed something unusual. They had retreated very quickly, and only a small portion of their men had been defeated. There was a substantial amount of activity in their camp for an army that was supposedly accepting loss, albeit temporarily. The sudden weight of dread settled upon his chest. Something was wrong.
He turned to the Regular nearest him and told him such. He was met with incredulity. "Are you thick?" he asked. "They're on the run. We've won!"
Sam shook his head. "No, they're just pulling out. Look, they're preparing something." He indicated the camp. "We need to retreat, now!"
The soldier shoved him aside. "Don't be daft! We ought to pursue and crush them!" He turned and began to charge alongside his fellows.
Samael watched in disbelief for a moment, then started to run in the opposite direction. "No!" he screamed to his compatriots as they hurtled past him. "Don't give chase! Stop! We have to retreat!" Only a few heeded his warning and joined him. "Run! Run! Retr--" He stopped suddenly, about halfway back to the Caldon camp. The chill had left the air.
He swiveled around to watch the majority of the Caldon force's counter charge. The temperature began to rise. Samael started to sweat profusely; it had abruptly become unnaturally warm.
A soldier beside him pointed to the sky. "Look!" he shouted.
Indeed, the clouds overhead parted with such swiftness that Samael had never witnessed. He could only stare, dumbfounded. "What in the Goddess' name...?" he breathed.
Incredibly and against all reason, a massive beam of white-hot light lanced down from the heavens and struck the ground in the midst of the battalion.
The resulting explosion picked Samael up and threw him backward as though he weighed nothing at all. He hit the ground with a yelp. The last thing he heard was screaming.
So much screaming. His body burned. He didn't know if he was crying out or not. He couldn't move.
He lost consciousness.
Above, the clouds returned as quickly as they had vanished. The wind resumed, and rain began to gently fall.
All else was silence.
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[To be continued...]
User Reviews
Submitted by Dervel (user info) at 2007-07-24 15:35:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh, and that's not the russian steppe.
So it didn't start there, so stop telling fibs.
Submitted by Dervel (user info) at 2007-07-24 15:33:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
King Leonard?
Bwahahahahahaha!
And stop Capitalising crappy words.
Other than that, carry on.
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2007-07-16 10:24:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Fantastic - has a very Dune-like feel with the back story. Well done, and I hope more to come.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-07-16 08:48:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by lover101 (user info) at 2007-07-13 09:40:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Kicker of all asses
Submitted by RabiedRooster (user info) at 2007-07-13 04:47:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very awsome
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2007-07-13 03:17:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
What Ghola said
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-07-13 00:48:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
sometimes i rate things without reading them.
this is one of those times.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-07-12 21:58:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Indeed.
Submitted by Dervish (user info) at 2007-07-12 21:42:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-07-12 21:31:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I see.
--------------
...Said the blind man, who took out his hammer and saw.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-07-12 21:31:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I see.
Submitted by SgtHartman (user info) at 2007-07-12 20:38:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
goddamn
Submitted by Dervish (user info) at 2007-07-12 19:13:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by raebuf (user info) at 2007-07-12 19:08:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I really fucking like this and you should pursue writing professionally if you're not already.
Brilliant work.
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Praise from an UberLord (such as he is famous for sabre-rattling).
I'm framing that.
Submitted by raebuf (user info) at 2007-07-12 19:08:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I really fucking like this and you should pursue writing professionally if you're not already.
Brilliant work.
Submitted by Dervish (user info) at 2007-07-12 18:18:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by PhillipTheGreat (user info) at 2007-07-12 18:03:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Continue this please.
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I intend to do so. Chapter Two is already in the outlining stage.
ENDORSEMENT POWER GO
Point of Non-Interest: the above was written entirely at the local Elias Brothers, during which I consumed naught but black coffee, a small salad, and a pack and a half of cigarettes. The ambient chatter was drowned out by Explosions in the Sky, Soul Coughing, the new Beastie Boys instrumental album, and the Silversun Pickups.
Dervish handwrites his outlines and stories using Pentel Fine Tip black pens on simple Composition notebooks before typing and submitting them on his pretentious-by-nature Apple iBook.
Accept no motherfuckin' substitutes.
Submitted by PhillipTheGreat (user info) at 2007-07-12 18:03:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Continue this please.
Submitted by frankthebear (user info) at 2007-07-12 17:46:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
damn you for writing better than me!
Submitted by GodChicken (user info) at 2007-07-12 17:28:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
now that's how to write a good intro to a series.
Submitted by experima (user info) at 2007-07-12 16:58:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 dervish