PROLOGUE
You know, I used to wonder why agents and editors complain about prologues. Then I started looking closer at prologues. Most people do them all wrong. For some reason authors got it into their heads that they’re actually called “infodumplogues” and lo, hatred was born. Let’s see how this one goes, shall we?
Galen Swordstar stared at the massive army that was marching on Starfall Castle.
…that does not bode well. I know a lot of high fantasy is derivative, author, but couldn’t you have tried to put a little thought into your names?
Hundreds of torches moved like scattered ants among the battlefield.
I’ve heard of fire ants but this is ridiculous.
Incidentally, I’ve been bitten by fire ants. It is only slightly more painful than names like Galen Swordstar and Starfall Castle. No, I’m not kidding.
Orcs, goblins, ogres and other creatures not of this world moved among the enemy’s ranks, all eager for blood.
By “not of this world” do you mean yoinked from Tolkien, DnD, and whatever else you could get your hands on?
He thought it more than a coincidence that this army should suddenly emerge four days after the King had mysteriously become ill. It was whispered throughout the castle that he had been poisoned. Everyone suspected it was someone close to him, that there was a traitor in their midst, but investigations into the matter quickly came to a dead end.
…badum, ching?
So this in King Incompetent of Incompetent Land, which is full of incompetent morons? Seriously, this is what spies and spymasters are for. What intelligence networks are for. He’s the king, for crying out loud. Also, if he was poisoned, it would have to be someone close to him. Like maybe his wife. Or maybe someone bribed his food tester. Cause I mean, he does have one of those, being king and all…right?
The King had summoned Galen just after he became ill. Chandel refused to stay behind so the King made accommodations for her to stay.
Wait, who? That’s a little out of left field.
Being so close to giving birth to their son, Galen thought the safest place for his wife would be with friends in one of the nearby cities, but Chandel was steadfast.
Ohhh, I see. You know, author, there’s this little thing I like to talk about. It’s called sequence…
She was due in two months and was not about to leave his side. It would be their first child and Galen wanted his wife to receive the best care and be safe.
And the safest place is totally with some friends in a nearby city full of civilians, rather than in the castle with fortified walls and lots of trained soldiers and the best medical care money can buy and enough food to last a long siege…
Now instead of preparing for the joyous occasion, he was preparing for war.
“The next few moments will be bloody and brutal,” he said to the soldiers lined up behind him.
What is it about fantasy books and being filled with Captain Obvious characters? It’s war, dude. If war isn’t bloody and brutal, it’s chess. And even that is no guarantee.
Galen turned away from the battlefield and looked at the faces of his men. Many had seen only minor combat in the Kilmor Desert or the Oakcrest Forest.
Oh, good golly Miss Molly. Kilmor Desert!? And…and…Oakcrest Forest!? First of all, Oakcrest sounds like a retirement home. Second…uh, that’s really kind of like naming your forest Tree Forest, isn’t it?
Most skirmishes were with orcs and other goblinkind roaming the countryside, but the demons
and devils were like nothing they had ever seen. He could see the fear on their faces.
I’m sure this is supposed to be all tense and exciting, but I’m pretty bored. I know obligatory pregnant wife is supposed to make me be all worried and invested and stuff, but this is so painfully mundane right now.
Galen kept his features calm and serene. It would not do well for moral to have his men think their captain panicked. His features were that of a warrior, like a statue chiseled out of rock.
Funny. I was under the impression that warriors looked like, you know, people. Or is that some pseudo-Greek reference?
He always kept his sandy brown hair short and his beard full. He stood clad in platemail and brandishing his two-handed sword,
Author, I’d like to introduce you to a dear, dear friend of mine. Now, around here we call him Mr. Dictionary. We don’t have time for a full introduction, so we’ll stick to a single entry. Here’s Mr. Dictionary’s information on “brandish”:
–verb (used with object)
1.
to shake or wave, as a weapon; flourish.
–noun
2.
a flourish or waving, as of a weapon.
So then I should take this to mean that Galen is a bloody idiot who likes to stand around in front of his troops, waving around a mother huge sword, I guess.
[Incidentally, upon reading this installment, The Hubby pointed out that the only place he’d ever seen the term “platemail” was used by DnD players. “Mail” is only meant to refer to chain. It should rightly be plate armor, but hey, where would we be if fantasy authors actually did research?]
which he inherited after his father passed away many years ago. As he walked by them, all of his men had to look up to meet his eyes. Standing just over six feet, Galen was taller than most of them. Only his second-in-command stood as tall.
I don’t care one bit about this detail. It’s unimportant to anything except perhaps telling us something useless and trivial about your Galen Sue here.
I’ll give you this, though: six feet would actually be pretty tall for the gutless pseudo-Medieval Europe worlds generally seen in fantasy books.
“Remember that you are soldiers,” Keld Blackanvil said.
Um, author? Diana Wynne Jones’ Tough Guide to Fantasyland was not meant as an actual guide. So please stop with the awful, awful names.
He was as tall as Galen but slightly more muscled. A broad nose and large eyes sat on a face that was well tanned by many years of working in the weapon’s forge of the castle.
Er, wait. What? I’m not sure you get a tan, precisely, from working constantly over burning hot metal, likely under at least some cover lest you get rained on.
He never passed up an opportunity to work with metals. Like his captain, Keld sported a full beard and always managed a smile when speaking of battle. He was dressed in the same type of armor as Galen but held a longsword and shield. The two had been friends for many years and always fought together. Galen depended on Keld to get the men’s blood pumping. He had a knack for encouragement.
Tell, tell, tell, tell, tell, tell, tell. For crap’s sake, this is boring. Show us this. Don’t bore us to tears with long, infodumpy paragraphs of it.
“Whatever comes, we will meet it head on, and I will be there with you, shedding blood and bashing skulls!”
And I thought George Lucas couldn’t write dialogue to save his life. (Sorry, George, but I really gotta spread the love. I can’t take potshots at Terry Goodkind every time.)
A cheer went up from his men but Galen could still see the uncertainty on their faces. Never had an army so large come up against the kingdom of Starfall and they had appeared out of nowhere.
I’m sorry, I really can’t get over the fact that you seriously named your kingdom Starfall. Though I suppose it makes sense that a kingdom with such a silly name would have such wimpy soldiers. You guys are so dead.
Galen wondered where they had come from.
Well, obviously they came from Mordor. And from those horrible breeding ground pit things Saruman has going.
Reports always came out of the Kilmor Desert of minor bands of giants and orcs, but never one so massive. How could they have stayed hidden all this time?
It’s a bloody desert, dude. Unless you’ve got satellites and/or helicopters, if that baby is big enough you might never know what all is hanging around in there.
The guards ran to their positions after Keld issued the finals orders then he too went to his post. Galen returned to the emptied barracks to sort through what was left of the weapons.
A huge horde of slavering death is upon them and their captain goes running back to the barracks to…see if anyone left behind a spare slingshot? Also, shouldn’t their positions be, I dunno, up on the battlements with flaming arrows nocked, pots of boiling oil near at hand? Down on the field to greet the enemy? A little bit of both?
He was only there for a few moments when a voice split the sounds of the battle approaching.
“I hope the captain will be where he belongs.”
Well, I’m glad to know someone in Incompetent Land sees that something is wrong here.
Chroben the Red was the kingdom’s leading wizard
Ah, that explains it. In fantasy this derivative, the wizard is always the only one with a brain and always right.
and one of the King’s, and Galen’s, closest friends. He was dressed in his usual red robes and carrying his blood red staff, which was topped with a ruby.
Okay, I know, I know, Saruman the White, Gandalf the Gray, I know, but even so…don’t you think this is taking it perhaps a wee bit far?
Hey, a Red Mage! At least they’ll have both Black and White magic operating on the field!
His red hair was neatly combed back into a ponytail and he portrayed a look of confidence, but his eyes showed he had not slept in days.
In days? Then what good is he gonna be? Oh, wait, is this Harry Potter magic, where there’s no consequences and no one is ever the least bit tired or drained from using it?
He wore a look of a battle-steady wizard and was dressed accordingly.
A “battle-steady” (whatever that means) wizard is supposed to dress like a giant bloody red target? That’s news to me.
Galen could see wands, rings and other items of power through his robes.
…so either they’re red and see-through or Galen just learned X-Ray vision.
The wizard was ready for war.
Okay, look. In terms of the writing, it could be worse. There wasn’t much in the way of awkward sentence structure. Unfortunately, what was there was so mundane, mediocre, infodumpy and dull that that’s only so much of a compliment. And the whole damn thing is so derivative and in two pages absolutely nothing happens. Not only is this why you’re self-published, it’s why people hate prologues.
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