first pages of my novel.....want comments...CHAPTER 1 PART 1

The Great War of the First Age

‘The men are ready to attack, King Benedor.’

The messenger informed King Benedor, the King of the High Valleys of Zahlur. Benedor had an imperial look on his face, one everyone associate with the Kings of Men of the High Valleys. His beard was neat and ended up in an arrow of hair below the chin, and his head held well up, the King’s eyes shone the clouds of despair and fear- fear from Maraud, the Lord of Darkness. Walking in a way that expressed his uncertainty over the world’s future, Benedor moved towards his horse.

The King of Men now rose into vision and faced his men, who were lined up in the fashion smartest possible. The armour, a black one bordered with red, was a heavy one. Spear-holders were at the front followed by swordsmen and archers. The swords and shields of the warriors had the outstanding class of the smithy work of the men in their sharp edges. The eyes though, were conveying something else. For the first time, Benedor could see fear gaping from Men’s eyes.

‘My men, the protectors of Zahlur and the Earth… we are here to fight the mightiest battle of our times’, the King’s voice roared.

‘Maraud thinks he has put his greatest weapon, his fear, in you. I can see that in your eyes. But the strength by which you still hold your weapons tells me that you are ready for anything that comes out of that Black Gate.’

‘Pride and valour is what they have seen in us since ages. I want that pride and that valour in your weaponwork. Let the metal strike metal as hard as it has ever been. Let there always be glory to the kingdom of Zahlur. Let your name be written in the History of Men.’

Benedor’s men beat their weapons against their armour in agreement, which produced an ear-deafening noise.

‘Immortal will be those in the History who pass the Gates and dethrone the Dark Lord. Immortality is yours…Go, have it!’

With cries of courage, filling the nothingness in the air around, the twenty thousand-strong army of men set out towards the ominous Black Gates, those that barred entry to anything that walks the earth, save fell beings that served the Dark Lord.

Everyone halted near the Gate. All was silent again. There was stillness in the air. Silence was ringing in the ears, for even a bird did not fly in such fell places.

‘Maraud, I summon you’, roared Benedor, ‘Give up your throne and your lands and you will have my mercy, or doomed shall be your future when the brave men of Zahlur raid your fell territory.’

As Benedor retreated to join his line in the front of the army, the Black Gates began to open with the hoarse sound of the stone. The men in the front got their first sight of the Land of Darkness. The sight was dark and gloomy. Clouds had veiled the land from the Sun, which looked as though sunlight did not wish to bless those who breathed there. Neither did Mother Nature, for no bird in the dark sky, or a blade of grass in the barren lands, was there that gave the rest of human lands their green colour and an air of freshness.

Cutting through the silence were the distant yells of the armies of Doemen, a horde of fell creatures, the Slayers of Maraud. Grey in their appearance with hideous faces, the innumerable Slayers ran towards the men with what haste their feet gave them. Behind them were a dozen Trolls.

Benedor took out his sword and held it up in the air. Light from the Sun fell on the sword and made it gleam.

‘The Sun God is with us’, said Benedor to himself, ‘The Risen will ensure us our victory.’

Ruthandir came up to his King for further orders.

‘The archers are ready to shoot, King. They wait for your command.’

Benedor took his eye off his sword and looked at Ruthandir, the Commander of his forces, and shook his head as he turned to look towards the direction from which slayers were coming. He used his hand to give shade to his eyes from the sun’s intense rays so that he could clearly see the Slayers coming from a distance.

‘Let them come closer, Ruthandir. Their best warriors are the one who form the line behind those in the front. You take the hold of the spears. I’ll have archers in my command.’

Ruthandir returned to join the line of spearmen.

The thunderous sounds of firm and heavy footsteps were increasing slowly but surely. So did the thumping of the hearts of everyone hearing them, everyone save Benedor, who had a braver soul than any of his fellow Men, for not everyone had fought several battles even before one had got out of the institution, and certainly not against the ferocious Vanadis of the South. He had to be a King then, the first among his men, and now he stood, at the gates of a battle and an army more ferocious than any other was, waiting restlessly to strike hard.

‘Closer, closer…’ muttered Benedor to himself, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the line of Slayers was near enough, Benedor cleared his throat, and cried as loud as he could, ‘Archers! For Zahlur, shoot!’

The archers followed their King’s orders by invading the sky with their arrows. One fell, and then another and others followed. Everyone else watched as the Slayers at the back fell to the air-borne weapons.