Le Book Of Random

NEW BOOK

Hey everyone! I'm published I new book! (I know, ANOTHER ONE.)
It's original!

My only problem is that I can't decide the cover. The next two chapters, and this one, will have options for covers. If you could comment 1, 2, or 3 that would be great! Just to vote. The prologue is below.

0: The Beginnings.

A tall, dark man stalked into the room. His footsteps were light, like a cat hunting a bird. It matched his air well, that simile, as his air was one of predator. A smirk soon squeezed its way into his face as his prey wandered in.

The 'prey', as he was in the dark man's mind, was short and squat. Made for thinking, not fighting. He was a smart man, one who could hide behind the canvas sheet of a tent, and still win the battle. His round face was shaped in a scowl, as he stood in close proximity to the hunter.

"The parlay will begin," a voice rasped from the shadows. The Elders Of All were surrounding the two leaders. They were the seers of the armies, the Wise Men, as they were called reverently.

The dark man turned immediately. "Cremolt, such a pleasant surprise," he purred, voice echoing through the black edged chamber.

"Shame I can't return the feeling," Cremolt snapped, scowl deepening. "Ikred, the Wise Men called this parlay. Use it wisely."

"Oh, but I am," Ikred pronounced. "It's perfectly natural to start with pleasantries! I thought that was a human tradition!" These words caused a impatient sigh from the human.

"On Earth maybe, exploding speaker. The Humans of Trivella are more advanced than that." A smug smile landed on the speaker's face as Ikred looked offended.

"Exploding speaker, friend? I am much more than a speaker, and the Svayten aren't even mechanical." Ikred barked a short laugh, full of malice and anger. "We are sound."

Cremolt sighed at this term. It was clearly over used. His face was creased in thought, as he eventually turned back to the Elders Of All. "We are here because?"

The murmurs that had been almost silent intensified, becoming disapproving mumbles. A man with a small hunchback was the next speaker.

"Something..." He croaked. "Something will break the stand still." Ikred's demonic black eyes lit up.

"A breakthrough," he breathed. "The Svayten will finally advance." Cremolt's head swung to Ikred, openly furious.

"Excuse me?!" His voice rose a pitch, unveiling fear. Cremolt coughed, and tried again. "Who said it was the Svayten?" Ikred smiled condescendingly, and didn't bother to explain. His eyes conveyed the contempt he felt, and the short human clenched his teeth.

"Well?"

The word seemed to cue the moment of truth, as the Wise Men stood, their elderly bodies cracking in protest at the quick movement.

"We have received... The sound has echoed the answers..." Ikred and Cremolt's shared a look of surprise, as the phrase implied their two races, joined together. It had been carved on the diamond that's sat in Questelt, the Trivella centre of trade. The Elders of All circled in closer, eyes closed under their blood red hoods.

"When the sky is silver, the battle will be done.                                                                                                           When the sky is silver, the war will be won.                                                                                                                   When the sky is silver, your leader will be dead,                                                                                                           And the ground will be covered in rivers of red."

"To who?" Ikred asked urgently. "Who's leader will die?" But the old men were exhausted from the large summoning of power, and fell back, silent for once. The war leader of the Svayten shouted in anger. "Answer me!" But the response was all but satisfying. Silence.

Cremolt shook his head. "We'll get no more out of them. Anyway, I think we retrieved all we need. Parlay ended?" Ikred's breath hissed through his teeth in annoyance, but he held out his right hand, palm up. There was a sigil seemingly tattooed on there, like a peace symbol with no outside circle. Cremolt laid his hand on top of his enemy's, and a split of red light exploded from between them.

"Enemies again." Ikred removed his hand, now blank. Cremolt nodded.

"Enemies again." The human left the chamber first, black boots knocking on the concrete floor. Ikred watched, seeing the footprints left by the sound for a few seconds.

"You better be right," he spat suddenly, words aimed at the Wise Men. "The Svayten can't be stuck under the gruesome foot of those humans anymore." He finished his sentence with the hurling of saliva at a red robed foot, and stormed out of the room.

"Silver and red... Silver and red will decide, Echo Ruler," The Wise Men whispered, unheard by the frustrated sound beast, or by the lesser ears of the questioning human. Probably an advantage, as their patience would wear very thin through the next years.

"Goodbye, fighters."