The Order of the North Star

On the fields of battle, an old soldier wages war against his enemies.

The Order of the North Star

By Zypher580

It was a serene, nearly unreal sight to behold. The golden wheat of the Shivala plains shimmered brightly against the orange light of the rising sun. Everything seemed so peaceful, so tranquil…as if everything was meant to be this way. The wise and venerable infantryman Garrus knew better however, and only the call from Zadkiel, one of his brother in arms, distracted him from the sight. “It’s time to move Garrus, gather your gear and meet me in front of the new recruits. They look to you for guidance.”

 “Isn’t that your job general? I’m just a foot soldier” Garrus retorted with a sardonic tone that was oh-so-characteristic of Garrus.

 “I may be of higher rank” he replied “but you are far older than all of my recruits combined. Honestly you are old enough to be head general by now.”

“Watch it now, us old folk get cranky when you try to guess their age” Garrus said with a crooked half-grin “and besides, I hate all that ceremony crap. I’m a soldier for the same reason I joined 44 years ago, to cleave a few b******s in half without being thrown in jail.”

“I wonder, at your age, would they throw you in jail or in a nursing home?”

“Ha! Jail would be easy, the latter of the two however….now that sounds hard…and dreadfully boring.”

Garrus and Zadkiel let out a hearty laugh. Zadkiel stroked the neck of his horse while Garrus gathered his gear. They set off toward the direction of the barracks.

* * *

Garrus stood before the recruits with his double-edged broadsword resting on his right shoulder-pad. His armor bore so many scars and mementos from his previous encounters than he could remember, and nearly every one of them could have killed him. The chest plate was a dull worn-down gold, with the army’s crimson insignia in the center. “Take heed, brothers, and look to our flag.” He beckoned as he pointed to the gold banner. At its center was a white fist surrounded by a red four-pronged star. “You there” he called out to a nearby recruit in the front row, “report your name and tell me...what is the symbol of our order?”

”Third recruit Jenkins sir!  The fist of the Northern Star.” replied the spear-wielding recruit.

Garrus made a nod of satisfaction. “Good and what is its significance?”

An archer named Leo stepped forward to recite the creed. “The Northern Star is our guiding light. Those who have strayed from our Savior’s path can seek it in the darkest of night, and it will guide them back to her. But along the way, there will be many who will blight the path, seeking to turn them away from her gentle light. We are the hand of The Goddess, mother of the earth and sky, who defends her lost children from the horrors that would block her light, so that they may return to her radiant embrace.”

“Excellent. Now look at the field before you. Look at its beauty…these plains are just one of the many blessings Altea has given us; but in a matter of moments, the heretic Aaragog and his legion of demons will desecrate this land.” He took a pause, noting that everyone was tightening the grips on their weapons, as Aaragog’s forces had just emerged on the other side of the plains. “Like a plague, they defile all they touch, the destroy everything the Goddess has given us…Now tell me what is our sacred duty? Bestowed upon us by Altea herself?”

“To banish the shadows which seek to blanket her holy light.” said the group of soldiers, readying their weapons, “we are to remain vigilant, loyal….and above all else…victorious!” “Hail! To arms my brothers, and fight to your very last breath!” As the words left Garrus’ lips, the soldiers marched forward, prepared to face the shadows with a newly bolstered conviction.

 “You know” Zadkiel said as he mounted his steed “one of these days you are going to have to stop stealing my job.”

“Ha, and one of these days you’re gonna have to try and stop me. I look forward to that day!” Garrus bellowed.

“Then your old bones better live to see that day!” Zadkiel shot back with a smirk. “Come Garrus, for glory and honor awaits!”

                                                *                      *                      *

 

            Garrus never wanted a leadership role; he fought simply for the sake of battle. He was a pawn in the grand scale games of war and men, and he was perfectly content with that. As he slashed another heretic soldier’s head in two, he took note of the enemy’s unsettling absence of demons. He battled his way up the slope to get a better view of Aaragog’s forces. As he pierced the black armor of the halberdier who stood atop the slope, his eyes shifted to the northeastern region of the plains. He saw a handful of enemy bishops, or “druids” as they called themselves, in the rear raising their staves. A shroud of shadow and lightning began to form in the clouds overhead. Garrus beckoned Leo, the archer who was perched in a tree just about 6 meters away, “Send a hawk to our bishops! They are opening a demon rift!”

After a brief pause Leo acknowledged the order “Sir! Hawk sent!” Garrus saw two arrows fly past his head and into the necks of two charging swordsmen, and he raised his buckler shield to block an approaching myrmidon’s crescent blade. Knowing all too well that his massive sword would be to slow for a foe with such speed and grace, he parried the second slash with his shield, knocking his blade to the side. Using this opening, he threw his gauntlet-clad fist into the enemy’s face and then his kidney, throwing him to the ground. Garrus finished him with a single downward stroke. “Sir! There is a small horde of demons approaching our position!” Leo shouted as he quickly made he and his fellow archers made their way down the tree.

“Fall back and regroup with the others! Form a defensive line! I’ll hold them off and buy you time!”

“But sir!” Leo stammered.

 “Now GO!”

Without another word, Leo and company retreated. Garrus took but a moment to pray, asking the Goddess only that his blade strike true and strike hard. “These demons will know pain…and they will know fear, by your holy name.” he said as he concluded his prayer. The demons were little more than 20 meters away now, and their fiery blades and bloody arm-scythes were clearly in view. “Just a few Goyles and Stalkers huh? Your master better have more in store for me than that!” he taunted as he swung his massive blade in wide arc, devastating 3 of the charging abominations. He dodged to the right to avoid the dive-bombing Goyle’s lance and sliced off its left wing. He turned to counter a stalker’s talon before grabbing his head and twisting it until he heard the snap of confirmation. Before the wingless Goyle could get up he crushed the foul demon’s head beneath his boot “back to the shadows, blasphemous hell-spawn.”

 Just then he was blindsided by a Goyle and was knocked off his feet. As he tried to recover, he sensed danger and instinctually rolled to the side, barely dodging the massive axe of the Minotaur which now towered over him. In a desperate attempt to buy himself time, Garrus swung his blade, knocking the incoming axe aside. The pitch black figure growled through his golden nose rings, and the gold chains around his neck rattled with each step of its massive hooves. As Garrus struggled to his feet he was launched down the slope by a kick from the vile beast. His sword left atop the hill, and the Minotaur swiftly approaching, things were looking grim. He squirmed and writhed in a spirited attempt to evade, but his efforts were in vain and in that moment, he accepted his death in the service of Altea.

 But the goddess had other plans, as a gold-plated horse had leapt over his body, knocking the Minotaur off balance. The Knight pivoted the horse 90° to the right, standing only its hind legs, before thrusting down with his mighty Greatlance, piercing the Minotaur through its shoulder and straight into his chest before the horse leapt away to finish its owner’s signature “L-shaped charge”.

“Didn’t’ I tell you that dying on me wasn’t an option today?” Zadkiel replied as he outstretched his hand to help Garrus to his feet.

“Heh, don’t tell me you were worried about little old me.”

“Worried? Hardly. I was concerned about how much of a pain in the a*s it would be to bury your old bones!” Zadkiel told him, “until you pay me back for your bar tab in Cathar, don’t even think about dying on me.”

“Ha ha, fair enough Zad, fair enough. Did the bishops receive the hawk Leo sent?”

“Yes, the prayer is almost finished; we just need to hold out until then.”

*                      *                     *

 

            The battalion held the defensive line against wave after wave of enemy soldiers and demons. The siege towers, and the ballistae and catapults within lay in ruins. The floor of the plains was littered with black armor pieces, broken only by the spots of gold and crimson where Garrus’ fellow brothers had fallen; but there was no time to mourn, for another wave was nigh, and their ever dwindling numbers were in danger of being overrun. “HOLD THE LINE! Bolster the remaining defenses and ready another volley!” Garrus ordered. “We must protect the gate until reinforcement’s arrive!”

Soldier after solder, demon after demon, corpse after corpse, the enemies just kept coming. Garrus gave the signal to fire the volley, taking out a good deal of their forces, but not nearly enough to halt their advance. “Sir! We are running out of arrows!” he heard from the archer’s behind him. Garrus’s face twisted into a grimace, this didn’t bode well for them. “PREPARE FOR CLOSE QUARTERS COMBAT!” The archer’s fired their remaining arrows and unsheathed their knives and daggers. Some picked up the axes and spears of their fallen comrades and took to arms. They did their best to hold the line, but it wasn’t long before the enemy breached the makeshift walls of crates and fences. As the defensive line fell, Garrus cried out “Altea, grant us strength!”

“Just then, as if on cue, a bright light shone forth from the blackened skies above the base camp, and a blast of pure light sent the invading forces flying back, and knocked many of them to the ground. The first to emerge from the light was Serra, Queen of the four Seraphim, followed by dozens of radiant angels. “PRAISE THE GODDESS! FOR SHE HAS HEARD OUR PRAYERS!” Garrus shouted, “Now is the time to strike back!”

“Garrus the venerable” replied a sweet melodic voice in Garrus’ ear, “Altea sends her light with you, for it is you who will end this battle.”  As Serra spoke, she bathed him in a purifying aura. Every pore in his body was filled with strength, his wounds and scrapes mended before his eyes.

“Your Grace, I am nothing more than a pawn in all of this, I am not worthy. Surely the general would be more fitting for this role.” Garrus said, both humbled and honored by the angel’s words.

“Generals have no one to lead without soldiers; you are no mere pawn, but a defender of the broken and the lost. Now go sir Garrus, in her glorious name, slay the dark lord, and restore peace to these lands!” Without another word, Serra raised her flaming sword and shield and took to the skies. Garrus’ looked at the glow around his blade, now bathed in holy light, and submitted himself to his fate.

* * *

            The counter strike was long and brutal. Many soldiers, bishops, and knights fell at the hands of these wicked demons and heretics. Angels battled fiercely with the Goyles and Lich-Kings which desecrated the sky with their foul auras. The once pure and shining wheat-field now lay stained and battered beneath the expansive sea of corpses. Garrus marched on alongside his brothers, the weight of his destiny upon his armor-clad shoulders.  The army marched on, pressing forward through the ever-increasing resistance. “The objective is clear! Clear a path and focus on destroying Aaragog! Without him their forces will crumble! Serra has chosen Garrus as our champion, so keep the enemy off of him when he engages!” Zadkiel’s voice resonated throughout the entire battalion, strengthening and restoring the morale of the troops. With newfound conviction the army marched onward, dodging the air raids from Goyles and mowing down the resistance they encountered. 

With their tremendous momentum, it wasn’t long before Aaragog himself was visible. He stood tall and cloaked in a daunting aura, a crown placed upon his head by the misguided fools who would call him king. His black cape draped from his shoulder pads down to the floor, with bright golden embellishments surrounding a black sun-like insignia. Protruding out from his rear neck guard  were several impaled heads of those he had slain, skewed onto spikes for his trophy-boasting pleasure. “Such ungodly hubris” Garrus said to Zadkiel, “these plains will be his grave.”

“For one such as him to be allowed to die in such a holy field, only a Goddess could be capable of such mercy” Zadkiel said, reflecting on Altea’s benevolent nature.

 “I am grateful that she has the duties of mercy, for he shall be receiving none from me.”

“Hail! May the light of Altea be with you brother Garrus.”

“Stay alive, Zadkiel, for when this is over, drinks are on me!” As Zadkiel began to ride off Garrus heard him say “I’m gonna hold you to that!”

* * *

            The demon rift bathed the ground in an unholy, twisted light. The very air around the plains had grown heavy and foul. Garrus took note of this as he removed his blade from yet another recently-deceased corpse. He turned aside the lance of an advancing Wright with his shield before cleaving his skull from his undead body. The portal then began to increase in size, and the loud thundering clap resonating from it warranted Garrus’s attention. From the rift, a massive terrifying beast emerged; its dark amethyst wings, fiery red eyes, and obsidian scales were recognizable in an instant: It was Volskrir, the dragon of shadow.

Garrus cried out to his brothers “SPREAD OUT! AND WATCH THE SKIES!” Serra swooped in and shielded Garrus from the dragon’s wretched shadow breath “Let my angels handle her! Get to Aaragog and end this!”

The army had divided their forces so they could clear a path to the throne of skulls. As he marched onward, Garrus watched as Serra and her angels traded blows with the dragon. He wanted to do more to help, but soon had his own battle to fight. With a cackling, maniacal laugh, a deep heavy voice rang out. “It truly is a wondrous sight isn’t it? I wonder who will remain at the encounters end, your queen or mine?”

Garrus turned to face the dark lord, who had been watching the battle overhead with a sickening smirk. Aaragog continued “Oh? Is this all the ‘mighty Goddess’ can muster? A single aging soldier…to defeat me, the great lord of shadow?”

Garrus ignored his taunts and fired back “A single soldier is all the goddess deemed necessary to destroy you, for behind your army, you are little more than a mortal man. A mortal who has defiled this land and slandered upon the name of the Goddess; mark my words Aaragog, this will be your grave.”

Aaragog let out another deep, grunting laugh“…Such spirit! Such conviction, such lively prey. I wonder if your faith will remain this resolute once your head is beneath my boot, after I’ve torn you limb from limb...”

The two readied their weapons, lightning thundering loudly overhead. Garrus charged with a vicious cry, and both of their broadswords clashed with unquenchable ferocity. He stepped forward to block the dark lord’s overhead swing, and followed it up with a counter, but Aaragog anticipated the attack, and parried the blow. The dark lord threw a fist at Garrus, catching his shoulder, but not before Garrus made a quick slash to Aaragog’s side. “Heh…heh heh…You fight well, better than most.” Aaragog confessed as he pressed his sword into the dirt to pull himself back up from his knee. “In fact, you might even be a worthy foe.”

 “You never stood a chance against me Aaragog. You lack conviction, a reason to fight. Your strength is an illusion, nothing more.”

“What a fool!” Aaragog said as he leapt forward with a massive overhead swing, which Garrus dodged. “I fight because I want to, I fight for the very essence of freedom…for chaos. The subservient soldiers in your order are the true illusion, for man was not meant to live in restriction. Humans are violent, destructive creatures! I merely wish to release the shackles, and allow humanity to thrive unhindered by laws and morality! For these…make humanity weak!”

 Garrus stood fast, both in his footing and in his resolve, “only the weak-willed of humanity crave such unchecked freedom, and only the weak are incapable of controlling their impulses in such a way. You are no more than a rodent seeking to climb up the food chain.”

He charged to begin the battle anew, and their blades clashed once more. Time and time again, Garrus couldn’t get past his defense. He turned aside Aaragog’s blade and hit him with two quick punches to his jaw. “You’ll have to do better than that to kill me!” Garrus said nothing, knowing it to be true. He swung his broadsword at his foe, only to have it blocked by the dark king’s blade. Aaragog readied his fist for a counter attack, and Garrus stepped back to avoid the blow. Much to his dismay however, the attack was a fake, the real attack was a kick from below, which sent Garrus off his feet. He rolled to dodge the impending sword swing, and leapt to his feet. Aaragog nearly caught him off guard by charging directly at him, but he spun to the side to dodge him. If Garrus couldn’t get past his guard, his foe was going to keep on evading his attacks. He needed to corner the dark lord. Garrus dodged another sword blow and managed to cut his forearm lightly, but it left little more than a scratch on Aaragog’s armor. Just then however, a wayward spear had snuck up on him in the commotion, and thrust at him from the side. Aaragog turned to dodge the blow and kicked Jenkins in the side. Meanwhile a whirling sound filled the air. Before Aaragog could turn to face it, a lance had been thrown from the other side by Zadkiel, which pierced him in his left calf. Jenkins, who had leapt back to his feet charged at him once more. Garrus knew this was his chance…as Aaragog turned to smack the charging Jenkins aside he would have an opening, and with his leg impaled he wouldn’t be able to dodge an overhead slash. He dashed forward…this was it…the entire war…he could end it. Aaragog turned to face the recruit and smacked him aside with the back of his fist, exactly the way Garrus wanted him too. With a single bound, he jumped at the dark lord, broadsword raised overhead. “DIE YOU TRAITOROUS FIEND!”….

 

…With a devious grin, she flicked the king piece over with her tiny fingers “Checkmate.”

“What?!” cried a young boy with long dark robes as he leapt up from the table in disbelief. “You got me with a pawn?!”  The Boy lamely slumped back into his black, skull-covered throne, arms crossed as he pouted at the outcome of the game.

“I told you they weren’t useless!” She told him as she gleefully sat up in her golden, angel-winged throne. “So” she said with a triumphant grin on her innocent face… “wanna play again?”

Author's Note

First story submission. This was originally written for a creative writing course a few years back and has been edited and expanded upon. My professor gave me very little feedback.

so i'm looking for genuine feedback. Did you like it? What would you change/suggest? What did you think of the ending? Tips? Other thoughts/reflections?

Thanks for taking the time to read my story!

Reviews

[annalysiar]

This is a great story but some historical feed back to the world around the characters would be great. And it definitely needs to be continued. I want to read more. I'm actually looking forward to it. It has a great feel and a good flow. You have passion. Don't lose that.