A Bride for Jeshona Part 1

    

Here is Part 1 of the Prologue to my book, “A Bride for Jeshona” which is available on our media page.  Just scroll down past the sermons and if you make a donation of any amount, check that you want to be on the mailing list and we will send you a code so you can access the book.  If you can’t afford it just e-mail me through the website and we’ll send you a code for free.  Please enjoy and let me know what you think: 

     The door to the hallway was a giant door with a bronze frame around four planks of thick wood.  Ultuvar opened the door, staggered through and slammed it behind him. The sound echoed fiercely through the castle walls. It startled Ultuvar so, that he froze up at the sound of it and then shuttered as if a lion had just roared at him from close behind. A tingling sensation shot up his spine causing him to tremble. He sighed and then was able to walk forward again.

      His breathing was a heavy whistle from worn out lungs. He had been running many miles from a fierce battle. The half-dress of armor he wore appeared too large for his small body. He knew that nothing good awaited him, being the bearer of the news of defeat. And no one could have been more appropriate for the task. He was a tiny man, pathetic, with his shoulders crouched over and a timid, sniveling face, more like a weasel than a man.  Fear moved him forward. To preserve himself he would flatter his king and obey his commands, but only to survive. For that was his instinct. And now little Ultuvar was peering down this long terrible hallway in his king’s own castle. He did not wish to go forward, but he knew that he must. A single torch hung on the right side of the wall about twenty feet into the hallway. There were no decorations, just black stone walls with cobwebs strewn here and there. It was dark and fusty and at its end was another dreadful door. Ultuvar had walked the hallway many times, but never grew used to it. It led to Leviathan’s chamber.

      Leviathan, the self-proclaimed “King of all kings” – a very frightening man to Ultuvar, but so very persuasive.

      “Such a leader, such a great King.” Ultuvar always said such things with as much sincerity as there was fear in his heart. Indeed, for his part, he genuinely esteemed his king, but often despaired and even at times attempted suicide while he was under Leviathan’s command. But always Leviathan warmly and coldly expressed how much he “needed” Ultuvar’s talents and services. This convinced Ultuvar to adhere to his duties again.

      But this time Ultuvar did not have hope of any such persuasion from his King. He only hoped for an inkling of mercy from some ulterior motivation in Leviathan’s ugly heart.  He stepped forward. Each step seemed to pound the floor as a hammer against an iron pot and its echo did not stop, no matter how much Ultuvar cursed it.  He softened his steps like a robber trying not to wake up the houses’ inhabitants, as if by Leviathan not hearing his approach Ultuvar could somehow disqualify himself from entering through that terrible door.

     Walking past the torch on the right side of the wall, he dragged himself slowly forward.

      His shadow seemed to creep up on him from the wall and then loomed over him as if it was laughing with cruel pleasure at what awaited him beyond the door. Finally the shadow seemed to wrap him up and disappear before him. He now stood directly in front of the door. Eyes wide and fearful, he stared at it as if in a trance.

(Part 2 next time…)