The Broken

Two thousand strong, capable, deadly soldiers went to face the horde that was their enemy. Two thousand Elves against almost five hundred thousand Harpies. They never stood a chance. They knew that going in. But they had to, to defend the innocent civilians of their homeland. It was suicide, and everyone in the army knew it. Not one of them refused to march. Not one of them was prepared to abandon their comrades. A two day march to the border and the full might of the now severely depleted elven army was at the mercy of the advancing force of the Harpies. Battles and borders had been won and lost, conceded and shifted for many years.

The elven soldiers fought as hard as they could, valiantly but briefly. They claimed many Harpy lives as the battle went on. The desolate landscape littered with corpses, both winged and non-winged combatants. Claw and fang, tooth and nail, arm and wing peppered the wasteland between the warring factions. So many had fallen. The elven soldiers fought heroically, worthy of the songs and tales that were sure to follow. They killed at least twenty times their own number, a small dent in a horde the size of the Harpies. Slowly, the elven casualties mounted until the dead outnumbered the living. Only two hundred soldiers remained when the Captain issued one of his final orders, his shield arm torn right out of its socket, lying somewhere on the bloodied battlefield. He approached a tall mage who was barking orders at the few remaining mages. He was ordered to take what was left of the Captain's men and one other mage and get them to safety so that they may fight again. The Captain handed him a small leather pouch and urged the mage to go to the King and send out riders for reinforcements from other peoples. With a heavy sigh, only thirty soldiers with him, he did something he'd never done before. He was ordered to leave the battle whilst it still raged on. He had only left the battlefield once before the battle had finished, and that was due to an injury. He felt heartbroken about leaving his people to die, while he was smuggled away with a few survivors. Begrudgingly accepting the order, he took the small troop and slipped away from the battlefield. After half an hour, he heard the Captain's final orders from a few miles away, the roar of charge echoed around the mountains, the clash of sword and shield against claws and teeth. A few moments later, battle cries turned to cries of pain, before the final few elves' lives were extinguished by the vast horde of Harpies.

The remaining company of elven soldiers trudged wearily back away from the borders of the horrific and possible last battle of the aeons long war. Two thousand brave souls stood bravely against the onslaught of Harpies, thirty left the battle in order to defend the innocent civilians in the final few days of the war. One succumbed to her injuries on the journey back, two died from infected wounds. These noble warriors were all that was left to protect an entire kingdom of elven citizens against an immeasurable number of Harpies and certain doom in the face of insurmountable odds. They were all that was left, and they had to do something the rest of the army never could.

It was a slow and arduous journey, over mountains and through streams, made more difficult by the fact that only a handful of combatants were at full strength. Many suffered various degrees of injuries. Some had to be carried, some limped, but eventually, they reached their destination. Battered and exhausted, soldiers littered with lacerations and contusions, abrasions and amputations, they reached a long drive to what used to be a fine, large home.

Two warriors, weary from battle and days of travelling on foot finally reached their intended haven, Benevor House. They walked in front of the remaining twenty five soldiers to make sure the site was clear. It was once the home of the great family Estellon. That was before this land was utterly decimated by an ancient enemy. The Harpies and the Elves had been at war for almost a century. Though the Harpies outnumber the Elves a ridiculous amount, that wasn't always the case. And what was once a magnificent manor for a prosperous family in a wealthy nation was now a complete wreck.

The men had both been here before, but not for many years due to the battles that waged across the country. They both defended their homeland valiantly and after at least five years of constant fighting, they were granted respite. They had been friends for many years and had decided to take refuge in the mage's former family dwelling, the archer happy with the arrangement as his home was destroyed thirty years ago.

The mage, a tall man with long white hair was Elcros and this was his family's former residence. It had been in his family for so many generations he couldn't remember the number. He wore dark navy robes, the colour of his house, with an emblem of a chimaera stitched in grey. His large staff, his weapon for channelling his magic through was a long sturdy, twisted piece of walnut. At the top, glowed in a faint violet light, his mage gem, a crystal he chose at the start of his magic training. His black leather boots her almost falling apart at the seams, covered in mud and splashes of dried blood.

His comrade, Korelian, wore a thick, dark green cloak with the hood up, covering his deep chestnut shoulder length hair and bright blue eyes. He was slightly smaller than the mage, but no less a deadly combatant. The quiver on his back, with sixteen arrows with yellow fletching peaked out of it, his large yew bow strapped around his quiver.

The two friends made their way up to what was left of the front of the house. The door, shredded by Harpy claws, was barely hanging on its hinges. The old stone walls, still crumbling around them, littered the ground at the feet of the once magnificent dwelling.

They entered the remains of Elcros' family residence, his face solemn as the memories of the years he spent there before the war tore through their walls. Happy times with his older brothers and younger sister and both his parents. His father had worked the land with his mother for many years, providing the village a mile down the road with fresh fruit and vegetables. The large house was at the entrance of a large farm, split up into many different plots. They sold almost all of what they reared from the crops and animals to the village, the prosperity of the village tripled in a short amount of time, with many small businesses growing there. But all of those were just that now, memories. The village, the one they passed through minutes ago, was barely recognisable as anything but scorched land. His parents' once bountiful farm was also scorched, a barren and uninhabitable wasteland that haunted the mages nightmares and made him feel emotional every time he came home. His sorrow was only exacerbated when he came home a few years ago to find them all dead in the house. What had once been his home, his refuge of delight, was now nothing more than a hollow remnant of his former life.

They came to a stop in a room that had some walls left, the only one in the house. With the door closed and no one around for a good few leagues, the pair relaxed. Elcros carefully placed his staff in the cornet of the room, whilst Korelian removed his hood, revealing his thick locks and pointed elven ears.

Elcros tied his long hair behind his head revealing his elven ears as well, and lowered onto his haunches, opening the glass cabinet door behind him. It squeaked loudly as the old hinges weren't used as often as they used to be. He reached his hand, scarred from centuries of battle. He rose, his knees aching and his muscles heavy with fatigue. In his large hand sat a small white teacup. Nothing fancy, quite plain, in fact. It was fine china, with a blue edge along the top. A thousand years ago, they were as common as anything else one would find in a kitchen. That was before all the wars, before the raiding, before the total annihilation of his homeland.

The kitchen stood, barely, in the bones of his parents house. A stove, some cupboards, a makeshift table and no ceiling. Most of the exterior walls had been torn down during one of the many skirmishes in Halaniron. Scorch marks and claw marks were littered throughout the ruins. The remnants of the building were still smoking in some parts, the smell of old burning wood still lingered. Harpies were vicious and tenacious fighters. They're sole purpose was to destroy anything in Halaniron. Their homeland of Granshlem had long ago been attempted to be annexed by the once king of Halaniron, King Ragnok. Many fights along the borders had occurred during his lifetime, so he sought to rule over them, under the pretence of unity for the sake of all lives. He came bearing gifts, fine things that were aplenty. The Harpies refused the gifts, destroying them and vowing to destroy everything the Elves held dear, for thinking they could be bargained with like common traders. Homes were destroyed. Lives taken. Arts and fine things, burned and perished. The very culture of Halaniron stood on the edge of collapse.

Yet here stood Elcros, a soldier, decorated for saving many Elves and defending his homeland staunchly. In what was left of the utter destruction of his former life. He wasn't trained as a soldier, he was a mage. A healer. He had used his skills for many years to save lives. But that changed when his wife and two daughters were killed in front of him by the demonic Harpies. They had mercilessly ripped his girls to shreds, they were barely recognisable by the time they had finished with them. His childhood sweetheart, Glorfilla mauled and half eaten by the barbaric fiends. His twin daughters, Mirella and Arwenna, stood back to back and ran through the chest with a rough piece of timber. His twins, dying minutes after their mother, who had spent their entire lives side by side, would die not seeing their sister. It broke his heart and in his grief, hardened it.

His companion, the ever charismatic Korelian, looked into his large friend's hand. They had met a few years ago when Elcros had healed a fatal wound in Korelian's ribs. He still had the scars where the harpy had got its claws in him to prove it. They were the oldest soldiers in the army, all of their peers had perished over the years. It was probably what brought them together, their shared loss. The younger soldiers hadn't seen the devastation the Harpies could cause to a person first hand. But they had both seen it and both felt it.

The scars on his muscular arm glistened in the waning light as he gently placed the white tea cup on the makeshift table. Korelian's eyes widened at this trinket, probably the last crafted item left untouched in Halaniron. He steeled his face before Elcros could see his shock

"That's pretty," he remarked coolly. Elcros shook his head at his comrade.

"I thought you said you had something that could help us in this endless war. I was hoping for a bit more than this lovely tea cup," his silky voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I know you like the sound of your own voice but let's get everyone gathered in the room next door and I'l explain," he said with sorrowful eyes. His friend looked at him, his eyelids heavy as they travelled to safety with little rest.

"The Captain made his last stand and left you in charge. Great leader, terrible guy to pass the torch to you in that moment, the moment it all ends," he told his friend, as if Elcros hadn't already been thinking the same thing for the last two days. Korelian mocked a salute to his friend, who was now the highest ranking military official in Halaniron and who's only superior was the king. The mage collected the precious teacup and the archer made his way outside, just as the remainder of the party reached the main door.

"Come on everyone, come this way. Those who need aid will be seen to immediately. We'll all be going into the third door on the right." And with that, he turned and led the elven remnants to what was left of the large dining room. The walls looked solid enough, but there was no ceiling left.

Elcros was already nervously waiting inside the large wood panelled room. Makeshift bed were made for the injured who needed urgent care, Elcros, a healer by trade, leading and guiding like he'd been doing it all his life. He had no idea what he was doing, but he'd do his best to make sure that everyone in this room survived. He had already lost too much. After half an hour had passed and the wounded were now resting, he made his way to the front of the room. He remembered an old tapestry had once hung there. His head dropped at the thought of where that tapestry had ended up. He steeled himself to address what were now his charges.

"I, uh... don't really know where to begin," he started, the hushed murmurs now falling silent.

"The Captain, rest his soul, told us a few weeks ago that our mission was a suicide and we all went anyway. I don't think you can even begin to understand how proud I am of not only every one of us here, but all of our fallen brethren that now lay to rest at the border, to give us a chance to be here today." A tear rolled down his cheek and he could feel a hand on his shoulder, smaller than his but strong nonetheless. He wiped the solitary tear away and turned. He hadn't noticed that his good friend Korelian was at his side, much as he had been in the years they'd known each other. They had often been there for each other, propping each other up when the other felt the weight of the life they now lived out of necessity. The new promoted leader continued, his voice raised louder than before.

"I'm no leader. I'm not a military man. I wasn't meant to be here now, leading the vastly dwindled number of elven soldiers that are here before me, each worthy of recognition beyond compare. I will make it known to the king the names of every single soldier we lost at the border and I will make it known to the king that every single soldier here is just as defiant and more than capable of taking the fight to those horrible creatures that are the scourge of this kingdom!" A few soldiers let out an agreeing cry, but no more than four.

"I will make it known to him that we will defend this sacred land with our very blood, if it comes to that. But it must not come to that, should we fall, Halaniron falls. And I will not allow that! We have fought for too long to fall now. Too many of us have fought for too long to give up now. Whether there's one of us or one hundred thousand of us, those beasts will not rule Halaniron. They will pay for every life they have taken with lives of their own!" A few more cheered at that. If anything could rile what little fight was left in these soldiers, it was the promise of claiming more Harpy lives. The cheers slowly faded and Elcros took a deep sigh. He revealed his hand from behind his back and opened it, placing it on the small table to his left.

"This used to be my home..." his voice faded as he looked around at the ruins, looking up through the lack of ceiling to the grey clouds above.

Murmurs and whispers grew louder amongst the group. None of them had known this until now. Korelian stepped up, the shorter man could make his voice louder than expected when necessary.

"Alright, thank you, settle down, children. The new Captain used to have a nice house, let's move on. Unless you want to hear about the many, many lovers I used to have." Some of the crowd laughed, others booed the charismatic archer.

"Alright then, now be quiet for the Captain," he gestured for the mage to continue, who leaned in and whispered,

"Thanks, Kor." He continued,

"Anyway, I found this in the kitchen just as we came in. It's a teacup, quite fragile and very rare these days." Some of the soldiers looked quite stunned at seeing something so small and fragile. They probably hadn't seen something so simple and yet so valuable in centuries. His newly promoted second-in-command chirped up,

"Lovely teacup, El, but I'm still..."

"Let me explain..." Before he could say anymore his friend interrupted,

"Oh, I can't wait to hear how this mighty tea cup will save us all," a blatant smirk etched on his face. The sentiment matched by a handful of hardened war veterans in the room. Elcros ignored the younger archer and continued,

"What do you all see when you look at this," he said loudly to the group. A few shrugged, but most of them were too tired to respond.

"Fine, Korelian. What do you see when you look at this?" he asked, pointing at the small white tea cup.

"A white tea cup," Korelian shrugged. Elcros smiled.

"Just a tea cup?"

"I thought you were going to explain, not ask me silly questions,"

"Fine, just a tea cup," replied Elcros, "and what do you see now?" He raised his fist and smashed it down on the fine china tea cup, which erupted into a few pieces. A minority of the group of soldiers were stunned, that teacup was worth a fortune! A perplexed look on his face, Korelian said,

"So the tea cup isn't the ultimate war winning weapon. I might have known." His voice was once again heavy with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes at the war hero as most of the soldiers laughed. Elcors gave him a cryptic look.

"Is it not?" Korelian enquired.

"Well a china tea cup would never make a formidable weapon," he said, straight faced, moments later a smirk just touching the corner of his lips.

"Yes, thank you, Lord of War." A mocking bow was accompanied with Korelian's response, along with some chuckles from their barely engaged audience. But Elcros' face changed then.

"But this tea cup can change everything."

"Everything, that seems a bit..."

"Everything, Korelian." There was silence between them, silence that echoed over the soldiers. Korelian was thinking to himself what was so special about a broken and ancient piece of a tea set. He took the bow from off his back and leant it up against the remains of the corner of the room. A few soldiers perked up at what Elcros was saying. A man with one arm missing from just below the elbow sat forward, intrigued to what the new leader was going to say. Another with his leg missing from above the knee sat up in his bed. All eyes were fixed on the pair at the front of the room, most of them directed their gaze at the mage, waiting, hoping beyond hope for something, something inspirational.

"This cup was a fine thing. But now it's broken. But with a bit of magic," He raised his hands and closed his eyes. He muttered to himself in an ancient language only mages knew of. The small pieces of the tea cup began moving, slowly at first, towards each other. With a few small clicks, the pieces joined back together. It took barely any effort to repair the tea cup. But it wasn't as it once was. There were now irregular, thin gold lines throughout the surface of the tea cup. Elcros opened his eyes and asked the archer.

"What do you see now?"

"An unbroken teacup?" Elcros sighed.

"Hey, I'm not wrong." a snicker or two came from the warriors.

"Alright, you're not wrong. But you're also not quite right." They both smiled at each other and Elcros took a deep breath in.

"The tea cup was broken but now has been repaired. Now, I could have repaired it and you would never have known it had broken in the first place. No marks, no scratches, no seams. Just a perfectly made teacup. But by adding the gold to this teacup, exactly where the seams of the broken teacup pieces were, you'll always remember what happened to this teacup. You'll remember that the teacup is fragile and you'll remember that it can be fixed. We need to do the same for Halaniron. We need to find a way to show the people that Halaniron is worth saving. That it can be saved, why it needs to be saved. But also why we need to do it the right way. We need to remember why we're in this situation, how we got here and to remember never to get in this horrific situation again." Elcros had practised this part of his speech and delivery for the majority of the trip home and was smiling, way too proud of himself. The marksmen in front of him stood there with his jaw hanging open. And he wasn't the only one. The brave fighters before him all sat there, their faces perfectly mimicking the awe-struck look on Korelian's face. He shook his head vigorous a few times as of to clear his mind and all he could mutter was

"The ultimate weapon." Elcros waited for his message to sink in to his friend and subordinates. A few moments of silence passed before Korelian chirped up,

"How have you managed to turn something that shouldn't exist in this day and age into... into...."

"Lost for words, Silver Tongue." Elcros' smile grew wider. Nothing had ever stopped Korelian like that before.

"You turned that teacup into something worth fighting for, friend."

"So let's get out there and fight, old boy." Korelian nodded, a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

"Hold on just a minute, Captain. How are we few and broken elves ever going to defeat an army that size. We couldn't do it when there were more of us, how are we going to do it now there's less of us?" The soldiers in the room all started echoing the sentiment from the large muscular elf. He was one of the few who remained unscathed and by the size of him and the massive broadsword sat next to him, Elcros imagined he took out more than his fair share of Harpies.

"Not on the battlefield. You've all earned a respite."

"Not on the battlefield? El, they're all soldiers, we're all soldiers," Korelian responded, quite seriously this time.

"Not are, were. Now the previous Captain gave me something to give to the King. I will hold up my end of the bargain for him and his memory. But the King needs to know what is out there. And I'm sure you can all tell me what's out there?" He waited, the men still clearly fatigued so he answered his own question.

"Total annihilation. Whether the King permits it or not, I'm now the highest ranking member of this army. I didn't ask for it, I didn't want it. But I'm going to make every death count. Every soldier, every civilian, their deaths have to count for something. Otherwise, why bother fighting?" The battered army nodded, some held their heads high, some dropped their heads in a silent prayer for the fallen.

"So I will tell the King that this army is now under my command. And we need more soldiers. None of you ever have to see a battlefield again, if you wish. But you still fight for us. We need reinforcements. The King thought he could do this on his own. I've never even seen him on the battlefield." Some wry smiles and a few grimaces from the elves before him indicated that his theory was correct. He continued,

"The King is an old, stubborn fool. That army we faced today would have been difficult to overcome with every being in the land fighting against it. But our King had delusions of grandeur. He wanted to be the saviour, the defender of the land. He was proven wrong, very wrong. And who paid the price?"

"We did," Korelian muttered.

"We did," the sentiment was echoed loudly in the crowd of broken elven soldiers. Elcros went on.

"So as of right now, you're all ambassadors of the Elven Army. When you are ready and able, you will travel with word of what is happening here. You will warn anyone else that the same fate awaits them and that only together can we survive. Only together can we function. Like this teacup. Broken and separate, these pieces do nothing. But united, they function. We march to the King. We march right into the palace and demand what it takes to save our people. Those of you that can't fight, I would ask you to go for aid. Any who can still fight, stay with me. The battlefield and an honourable death may await us, but so be it. Korelian and I will fight. Who's with us?" His closest friend nodded.

The former resident turned his attention to the remnants of Halanirons last defenders and shouted,

"Who's with us!" There was a brief moment of silence, before an almighty war cry, a cry heavy with pain but laced with unending resilience rang out from them, shaking the very walls that remained of Benevor House

What was once a normal run of the mill, one of millions piece of crockery had become a rare and priceless artefact of a bygone era to becoming a symbol. A symbol of better change. A symbol of the way things were long before any memories. A symbol of peace and prosperity. A symbol of resilience and hope.