The Vanquisher

Chapter 1: The Udrani Rise

The wind ripped at the darkened stone of Vasienn Castle. Prince Raziel stood above it with his archers readied; their blue and gold armour contrasting the charcoal grey of the battlements. Distant metallic clanging filled the air, as Vasienn archers disharmoniously hailed over the enemy. Only screams could be heard clearly through the mufflle. The hoisted blade holted just as it entered Raziel's neck but the sting hesitated on its promise. Instead of shielding wave with stone, the Udrani had released a catapult on their thin wooden door, expelling its protection, and shattering the hopes that lay behind it. The sturdy dwarfish commander Gwerin, was the only one to notice the wound at it leak down past Raziel's dark hair. The blade had not released the tension, and its weight had engraved its own path and purpose.

Raziel gazed down over the army that stood before him, observing the relatively discrete areas that remained unpainted. He found the blood deeply unsettling, and tempered his anger at the contribution of his own men. Looking into the distance was like gazing into darkness. Little distinction could be made between the black skin of the Udrani and their dark armour. It would have appeared similar from a distance to those of the Vasienn. If not for the relic, it would have been like swatting a fly in the depths of a deep unlit cave.

"They are in the castle my lord", shouted Gwerin, a clear mixture of fear and panic in his voice.

Even though he was only metres away from prince Raziel his voice was almost inaudible against the thunder and metallic clanging. The cries were too frequent for Gwerin, even with his years of battle experience. If his men had been of lesser valour they would have started to flee long before now. They were not. The Vasienn elite had held their ground despite the unremitting butchering of nearby comrades. Against fear, hope and lack of will they had continued to hold their ground, inviting death over retreat; true soldiers.

"Raziel there is no hope of keeping them away now", bellowed Gwerin. "You need to unleash the relic's power now".

"It's too soon", replied Raziel in a firm, solemn voice.

Even the wind could not drown the sovereignty from his voice. There was a moment of silence as the prince gazed into the heavens, the unrelenting rain continuing to sting his wet cheeks. Seeming to glean some inspiration, the prince quickly looked back towards Gwerin.

"I need you to rally the archers on the front gate" he said.

"But Raziel, we won't be able to defend the second level" began Gwerin. "How will we evacuate the back gate?" Within moments of observing the prince's stern gaze, he retracted, "as you wish Raziel".

Gwerin had never known the prince to act rashly. Raziel had always spoken with great wisdom in spite of his young appearance. It was almost as if he could review the outcome of his decisions without clouding the correct judgment, without fear or emotion.

The castle of Vasienn had never been breached before. The Udrani army however had clearly learnt from their last meeting. Lack of military skill, poor strategy and inferior technology had cost them a battle they surely would have won if not simply due to the utter size of their army. This time they had concentrated on developing better siege and artillery forces to offset the superior military proficiency of the Vasienn. The advanced weaponary had been crucial during the early part of the battle as the big structures had destroyed the enemy charge and broken up and isolated the Vasienn forces, making them far easier to cut down. Now, even the broader shields, longer swords and thicker armour of the Vasienn elite were no match for the overwhelming ballistae. These huge devices could house monstrous siege ammunition, thicker than tree trunks and longer than ships. When launched deep into enemy forces the enormous protruding blades peeled through armour. Once the ballistas came to rest, they were triggered, releasing blades nails and other sharp objects that could maim and kill nearby soldiers. The archers housed in the centre would then unbuckle their restraints, and continue to harass nearby infantry, almost in armoured safety. It was no wonder that Raziel had retreated his troops to the castle so early; they were no match for a weapon with such huge collateral potential. His men would have simply been slaughtered.