Beginning on the Shore

Another intro to my fantasy, this one opening on Elven shores.

PROLOGUE

 

It happened on a Midsummer night after one of the greatest battles in the history of the elves. The great King, Phillip the Mighty, lied dying on the beach that was the battlefield. His son kneeled at his side, tears streaming down his face. The young man held his father's hand.

“Please, don’t die father,” pleaded his son.

“I can’t... hold on... forever...” his father replied

“But you must stay alive for just a little longer,” said the son.

The father relaxed in the sand, taking a deep breath. The sword wound in his side, even though it was bandaged, was still bleeding and soaking into the sand around him.

“What does this mean for the kingdom, father?” the son asked.

“You are the heir. You must take up the mantle of the Great Race.” Phillip replied.

They sat together in silence for a moment.

Then, “I will make you proud, father.”

Phillip the Mighty closed his eyes and smiled.

“I know you will. You always did,” said the Great King.

Then, the Most High King in all of Centauria, the ruler who dared to defy the forces of evil, and the Elf who outdid any other Elf in Centauria, died.

The son bowed his head and shed tears for a few moments more. Then he stood up, and walked away from his father. He saw his horse, standing a few feet away. Once he met up with his horse, he gave it a pat on the side and smiled weakly. He jumped up into the saddle, his armor clanking as he did so.

 

He looked around the beach. It was covered in night, darkness cloaking every hidden hole and space. The moon gave the only semblance of light, as it illuminated the field and the ocean. The battle had been bloody. The Elves were on the verge of winning the war, but the Pirates had come back and completely wiped the Elves out. By the time Phillip’s son arrived, the battle was over, and the entire Elven battalion had been destroyed.

 

No one survived.

 

 

Beyond the beach were rolling hills, covered in lush forests. Further beyond was the Mountain. It was the Elven capital city. Situated on the very tip of the mountain, it was built in five different sections. The bottom section was the largest and shaped in a circle so that the mountain protruded from the top. The other five layers were similarly built with the mountain running through them, but each layer was smaller than the last. The last and top layer was where the king ruled. It was a grand city, always full of life.

 

However, tonight, the city was a dark and empty shell. Not a soul stirred. The Elven people knew that the Pirate army would strike the city any day now.

 

 

Phillip the Mighty’s son rode along the beach, passing dead bodies by and collecting useful weapons. He then reached the entrance to the forest where he would eventually find the road back home to the city.

As he rode up to the trees, a voice called out. The son reigned in his horse. He looked around and saw a young soldier lying in the sand, his hand raised and beckoning him over. The son rode over to him and jumped off the horse. He walked up to the soldier and saw that it was his friend, Kalbar.

 

“Kalbar, what are you doing here?” asked the son.

All Kalbar could give in reply were a pathetic series of grunts and whines. Phillip’s son kneeled next to Kalbar and reached forward to his hand, which was caked with blood. He moved the hand and saw a gaping wound down the center of Kalbar’s chest. Blood spurted out of it even as he watched. Kalbar had nearly been rent down the middle by an axe. He was lucky to be alive. The son looked further down Kalbar’s body and saw a four pointed, metal star stuck halfway through into his gut. Many other slashes and burns ran along his legs and another sword wound had been opened in his side, just like Phillip.

“All right,” said the son. “Let’s get you home.”

 

The son strapped Kalbar onto the back of his horse and rode away through the forest. Trees began to pass by him in a series of blurs. Soon, they were at the crossroads. He rode down the left path, which led towards the city.

Author's Note

Talk to me... tell me what this needs.

Reviews

[Kyle P.]

Well, to be honest, the prologue isn't finished persay. But thanks for the advice, I will use it.

[The XYZ Writer]

Okay, that was good. Not amazing. But I think it could become amazing.
First of all : you should have another name for the son, instead of always calling him the son. Boy could work. You pick. The only other thing I have to say is make the ending of the prologue a little bit more descriptive. But other than those two, it was pretty good. Keep working on it!