Sneak A Peek Into My New Novel

PROLOGUE

It was nearing midnight. Jorganso didn't like the way things had gone. Their attack had failed, and to make the matter worse, he had lost his way in the dark, baleful forest with silence so loud that it disquieted him.
  He was the only one who had survived the retaliatory attack full of vehemence and gore, but thankfully he still had the special delivery with him: the package that would have changed the course of the battle—if they had gotten the chance of using it. But they didn’t, and now the thing inside his red backpack was his highest priority. 
  “I'll have to take it back into the city,” Jorganso told himself as he hurried through damp, mist-covered floor, his eyes squinting in darkness. 
  He fumbled around the trunk of a vast tree, which suddenly loomed out of darkness, narrowly dodged its low hanging branch, stumbled over its gnarled root, lost his balance, somehow stopped the fall and resumed his run. The forest was cloaked in fog, and hence he was finding it very difficult to navigate his way through the thick trees that looked more like giant hands of zombies sticking out of earth than anything else. The sky was a starless, black canvas. He was also finding it hard to believe that he was actually out in the forest after sundown. He had previously never left the safety of the wall after the Earth’s closest star had decided that it was a right time to get a little rest. People of Den called that time of the day afterlight. The word twilight was obliterated from their vocabulary decades ago.
  His eye grew wide, and a feeble smile touched his lips when he noticed the space between the trees was no longer that narrow as it had been up until now which could have meant only one thing: He was no longer in the thick woods but was near the wall. Good, maybe he could make it back. With that thought running through his mind, he put up his pace and at that precise moment, a gnarled old root popped out of the ground and grabbed the tip of his right foot. His right leg stopped there (as if saying, hey, wait, guys, I really want to kiss this cute piece of wood sticking out of the earth) but the remaining part of his body still seemed to be in a hurry and went forward. With his arms flailing for balance, he went down and fell hard on his face. There was a flash, and a sharp pain zoomed across his skull. His nose throbbed. His mouth tasted of dirt and blood.
  “Ah, in the name of my bloody king...” He spat blood and mud and cursed, scrambling back to his feet. Stars were still dancing before his eyes when a prickling sensation went down his back.
  Someone was watching him.
  Then the small clearing he was in was filled with crackling and rustling noises. He was sure that it was not the work of the wind because there was no wind. He started walking and quickly broke into a rhythmic jog, feeling a shadow move behind him.
  His Adam's apple bobbed futilely in his throat. As he ran, dry leaves crackled underneath his boots. 
  Losing his comrades was one thing but losing his own life was...
  “You are not dying here, you fool,” he said, gritting his teeth. He wished he was back in his comfortable house with his wife and his daughter, sitting before a warm fire. He was regretting the decision of not finishing the game of chess which he had been playing with his daughter before this bloody mission had started. Rose was her name, and she was just eight. She loved and yet hated the game. Loved it, because his daughter was good at it. Hated it, because she always lost against him. Of course, he could have allowed her to win whenever he wanted to, but he didn't. He wanted her to learn that victory has to be earned. But today she was close to the success—and he had seen the enthusiasm on her face, gleam in her eyes. But the game was left unfinished, for he had a duty to do, a work to perform.
  And here he was, wishing to see his daughter's winning dance, a dance she always did when something good happened to her, a dance that filled everyone’s heart with joy. He loved his daughter and longed to see her grow up to become a kind woman like her mother. But—
  More shadows floated around him. They were moving with high speed, slinking around the trees, jumping from one branch to another. He realized that he couldn't allow them to get their hands on the special package. His family’s fate depended on it. He decided he would drop it under some bush or undergrowth and then would return to get it back in the morning when the forest would be safe to approach. In this way, even if he got caught, the package would remain safe.
  So, Jorganso dropped his red backpack into the bush beneath a vast knobby tree and doubled up his speed. He looked back and tried to get the idea of the location where he had dropped the package.
 Once the image of the tree was etched in his memory, he looked back ahead and skidded to stop. A huge shadow stood in front of him, blocking his path. He quickly whirled around and found another shadow standing right behind him. Then the leaves all around him began to rustle, and more shadows materialized before his eyes—he was trapped. He was doomed. His perilous journey was about to end. And this end was not going to be a happy one. He dropped to his knees, crestfallen, eyes full, hands and legs shaking. He tried to speak, but nothing came out of his mouth. His body began to shake badly as the surreal shadows started to advance on him. It occurred to him that his dream to see his daughter's cute victory dance was going to die with him.  
  “Please... Don't do it,” he said, cringing to the ground as they circled him. “Please... PLEASE...”

  And even before he could realize his mistake, Jorganso, who was famous among his friends for his sharp wits and yellow teeth, was dead.