Prologue - It's A Long Way From Hell

Reviewer's Comment (Awnro)

Is it just me or is it cold in here? The prologue for The ‘Quest’ IV Fall from Grace (FFG) is just simply a wow. Who could have asked for a better start to a novel? Guaranteed the prologue will chill you, so grab a blanket before you read it. Quite brilliant, it sets a brilliant atmosphere, introduces a character or two, builds a basic plot, and leaves the rest to your imagination, which is often your worst enemy when alone in the dark.



Very descriptive, almost taking the time to examine the pores on the walls. Even things that have absolutely no purpose are given a description. Very bravo, you will be on the edge of your seats every week, itching for the next chapter, if the rest of the story takes the same essence as the start.



Reviewer's Comment (Mirar)



In one word: confusing. Lets move on, quickly. o.o



Prologue – It’s A Long Way From Hell.



‘It has been held outside the walls, but they will not last long.’

‘They will last long enough. What about the women and children?’
‘They’ve been evacuated, it is only us left.’

‘Numbers?’

‘Two hundred able men.’ The servant reported to the King and his advisors.

The King ran a hand through his beard slowly, contemplating. If they ran, it would chase, if they fought, they would, most likely, die. But it would be better to die here, today, than to spend the rest of their lives in fear. He looked at his advisors, his friends and confidants, ‘What do you think?’

‘I think we can win, my liege.’ The first said quickly, falsely.

‘Good, good.’ The King mumbled, knowing full-well the lie his ‘friend’ just told. The room was dark and gloomy. No windows or wall-lights, just two candles on an oak table. The table had several scrolls strewn over it, maps, reports, nothing very interesting.

The King looked into the darkness, recognising the shape of the door – the only exit – but nothing else. He walked into the darkness, embraced its silence. The beast had hunted them for years, this was their final fort. It would come, they would fall back, it would slaughter dozens, and they would hide deeper. Well no more. Today, they would fight it. He hadn’t realised that his most trusted advisor had sneaked up on him, ‘My liege, perhaps it would be better to move? At least yourself, my liege, if we should die here, our people will have no leader.’

‘We will not die.’ The King said turning to face him, ‘We will not die because we do not wish to die, we shall bend fate to our whim. We will defeat this beast because we must!’

At that particular uplifting moment, another servant burst into the room, panting and half-collapsing upon the table, ‘My liege!’ he shouted, bursting into a fit of coughing, ‘It has broken through the walls, it has reached the inner sanctum. We are fighting as best we can.’

The King nodded solemnly as the servant dismissed himself, he muttered to himself, ‘It is nearly here.’ A couple of the advisors rushed and bolted the door with several planks of wood. ‘We will not die.’ The King repeated, slightly more quietly than before.

The seconds dragged themselves along and seemed to be hours. There was faint noise every so often; a muffled scream or cry, mainly. Then it happened, only a minute, perhaps two, after the servant left. The door to the chamber shuddered and groaned. The advisors looked, terrified, at the door. The King stood silently, closest to it.

Another shudder. The wood complained loudly.

A third, several splinters shot themselves into the darkness. The King looked at his seven advisors.

A forth. One of the planks developed a fracture.

A fifth. One of the doors began to crumble inwards, the planks of wood snapping in two.

A final shudder.