Waahhh hello YWS! I'm very excited to be here This is a short extract from the Prologue of my book. I won't give any explanation - for that you'll have to keep reading! thank you
NOTE: edited 10/6/2010
Peace, once shattered, seems to have been the shortest fleeting moment of light before the all consuming darkness of war. It was as beautiful as a butterfly, but just as easily crushed; as if it had never been at all. Quilantien had been a butterfly. From the Northern Shores to the Silver Isles, life had been sweet and plentiful, but conflict can never be stayed once its ugly head is roused. Love had kept the land together once. But now love tore it apart.
Mileneth knew the madness had to stop. Atop his red destrier, his fine metal plating shattered the failing light like mirrors. Moonclaw felt heavy in his hand. Each life the sword took weighed down upon him. 'Madness,' Mileneth thought. 'This is madness'. The air was thick with smog and cries, crashes and blood, and the long howl of war horns. The stench of death, foul and overwhelming, made it hard to breathe. Mileneth had seen nothing like it. Only a day past, the fields had been green and gentle, but now the soil was thick with blood and corpses, of both man and horse. The black clouds that had been gathering finally burst. Heavy, lamenting drops tumbled from the sky, and Mileneth felt hopeless.
He swung Natsura around, rain smashing against her heavy plating. Her muscles tensed and surged beneath her rider, his weight nothing compared to her strength. Mileneth pushed her forward, searching for an end to the chaos. A man in a dented helm roared and charged at him, swinging his sword wildly above his head. In one swift motion, Moonclaw made short work of his throat, spraying scarlet mist in every direction. The man fell, eyes wide as his life’s blood poured out. Similar men, brave but equally mortal, swarmed towards Mileneth's Sister colours and felt Moonclaw's bite. Mileneth struck them down with ease. He had always lived for battle; for the rush and blood lust, for the roaring beast that lived within him. It had feasted on the power and freedom. That was before. The beast in Mileneth's soul was gone. No animal would enjoy the taste of desperation.
“Imroth!” Mileneth cried, his voice barely a drop in the ocean of noise. “Imroth, face me!” Mileneth pushed on. He couldn't remember when the lines had broken, but as he looked around, all he could see was chaos, bloodied and screaming mayhem. Imroth had to be found. But everyone was faceless. In the dark and rain, the colours had been muted. These were men who were just fighting, fighting to survive, and both sides had forgotten why.