The following is the prologue to a story I would like to write, I have never written any fantasy but I read a bit so thought I would try my hand. Reviews fair and harsh are welcome.
Hero - prologue
“Kill her!” the shrill voice echoed. Her white face turned in its hood, spotting the dark shapes coming from the sky. Fear gripped her from her chest as her eyes grew wide, her pale mouth fell open, and shadows swarmed down around. The hood of her robe fell as she spun around with long brown hair whipping her face. The shadows circled in.
She clutched at her chest, feeling beneath her robes for the pendent. Her heart slammed into her cold knuckles as she clutched the precious thing. The shadows moved closer and she was beginning to drown. The air became thin and light was fading.I can't die and give up the sclithe.
She tensed her entire body, a summoning spell was her last chance.“Aspardo!” she screamed. The magic’s effect was sudden; A hero fell from the sky with a sword in hand he landed on one knee with head down. He pushed off the hard earth with his gauntlet then stood with legs wide apart in a battle stance.
“Cantra flamarda” his sword began to glow then light shined from the edges of the blade. His thick brow sat, partly covering his eyes as he glared at her. He was cool, the darkness was overwhelming yet he was collected.
“Get out, run, just get the sclithe away” The old hero’s face was scarred and his black beard was full. The bright sword swung wildly and the creature’s shrill cries echoed as he collected three with one blow. “Run now!” he called as he threw his tall sword around. She charged through the gap with her head down and the hero’s footsteps were close by.
More dark creatures swirled high above, descending from the stormy clouds. Their ghastly cries echoed across the land. She ran hard still snatching at the pendent. She ripped it from her chest and, as she ran, she snuck a look back at the hero, his face was contorted and his arms were torn back in a crucifix, his sword slipped to the ground and the glow faded to a slick steel. She winced, it's over. He was consumed in the darkness, his face became white and his mouth open and dark. A sorrow dawned deep in her chest, she had summoned her keeper here to certain death. She raked a loose sleave across her eyes collecting tears. Firmly clutched in her hands was the amber pendent.
“es tarrago, es carde, es sharma… es tarrago, es carde, es sharma…” She chanted louder. Es tarrago, es carde, es sharma. The cries were daunting and the swarm closed in again. White smoke was escaping between her fingers. Es tarrago, es carde, es sharma. The darkness closed in. The smoke was taking form, a full sword was shaping in her grasp. Es tarrago, es carde, es sharma.
“Kill her now!” the same shrill voice rung loud as though the scream came from her own mouth. She continued running but the air was growing thin again, the darkness was closing in. Suddenly relief washed over, her shoulders rolled back and her head lifted. In the sky ahead, she could see Maav, her brother, soaring on the back of Argo. She stopped for a moment, salvation. She let a smile spread.
“Maav!” she cried, “Down here.”
Maav pulled up and sat soaring. His eyes were white and empty. She stared at him frowning with confusion. He pulled his bow from his shoulder drew back a single arrow and whispered “ecix.” Her mouth fell open and her eyes suddenly grew wide and teary. The sound was hollow like a spade into soil. She looked down at the arrow in her chest.
She defiantly eyed the smokey sword. “es Tarrago, es carde, es sharma, enchantargo esis!” Her last breath resonated. The enchantment was complete. The sword became whole, real, for a moment. Then, like sand through her grip, it faded away. The arrow pressed in deeper as she fell forward. Her eyes closed and she smiled, she had won, the Sclithe was now with its rightful owner, her mission was complete.
