Jo Margaux

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The Chronicles of Gorvindell | Prologue

October 8, 2020

FREE WRITING

2
    “The Horgs are advancing, my lord. Gorvindell is in grave danger.” 
    “Rally your best, General.” Avelfin replied.
    “We have lost too many of our best to the Horgs, we barely have any warriors left, my lord. We must create strong allies.” General Cawarden argued.
    “Do you doubt my orders?” Avelfin roared. “This is not your decision! I say we will make allies, but now is not the time. Am I understood?”
    “Sir, with all due respect, we are losing to the Shadow's minions. We need the help of an ally. We cannot win against this enemy. Not this time.” 
    “If you continue to defy orders I will have you demoted! You will be a low-ranking soldier, and I will choose another High General. We need allies, everyone does, but if we, elves, went asking for help, it would ruin our reputation! Now, we need to be strong, but by ourselves. Our struggles don't concern the rest of the world. Do you understand?” 
    “Yes, my lord. I will immediately ready our best army.” General Cawarden bowed low, then left the room hurriedly to rally his army. Elves were known for wisdom, but this was unlike King Avelfin. He would have been eager to make allies, and would have if it hadn't been for the recent tragedy. 
Queen Sorvelfin's death had been hard on the King. He couldn't be blamed for it. The Horgs were terrible, evil creatures of the dark. And they would pay for their crimes.
     General Cawarden charged into battle. The huge, ugly creatures used sharp, long-handled axes. The battle was ugly, it always was, especially against Horgs. They were seven feet tall and pale white, they were minions of the Shadow. They had ugly, scrunched faces, and claws, and strong arms. They were unlike all other creatures. They lacked gender, emotion, and the need to eat or drink. They were neither good nor bad, which is how the Shadow had turned them towards darkness, making them ugly and evil. All around him, brave men and women were dying. 
All because of the King's foolish decision. 
They had no time. The castle had to be protected. All of Gorvindell had to be protected. The Shadow was coming. He wanted something. But when he wanted something, he never said what it was. He just exploded into the nearest kingdom, and snatched what he wanted. He had many minions, some created from his magic, others desperate for a job. Still others, forced into slavery. 
The elves were brave. They were immortal. They were wise and fair. But now, they were ruined. General Cawarden fought harder. For his king, for his people, and for the entire country. 
    One Horg grabbed him by the leg as he charged past. It gripped harder and harder, squeezing his leg like a constrictor squeezes its prey. He slashed at it with his sword. Elves fought with ever-sharps, special swords crafted by the skilled elven hand, and enchanted with a light magic, to give them the ability to never dullen. They would stay sharp forever. Elves were immortal, they needed immortal weapons. 
    The Horg let go of General Cawarden's leg, and instead wrapped its hand around General Cawarden's body. It raised it's axe, and swung at him. He ducked just in time, but failed to escape from the Horg's deadly grasp. He waved his ever-sharp, and accidentally, but victoriously, cut off another Horg's head. A female elf warrior ran towards him. Glandoress, his sister. She was coming to his rescue. 
But she was too late.
As she was running towards her brother, Glandoress was engaged in a fight by a Horg. She watched over the Horg's shoulder as her brother was held by the vile creature. 
    The Horg held General Cawarden tightly. It held up its axe. Before Glandoress could say anything, her brother yelled, “ If this kingdom survives, rule it wisely! Be brave, sister, and don't forget your brother.” Then, under his breath, he whispered, “And if you find the Two in the Prophecy, guide them well.” 
They would be the last words he ever uttered. And no one would hear them. Because then, the Horg sent his axe plummeting down. 
Right on General Cawarden's neck.             
The great General Cawarden was dead. 
This is the prologue of my original book which is currently 111 pages. 

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