Prologue to My First Novel

PROLOUGE

Darkness descended on the city of Verrere. A shadow crept over the low-lying buildings. Storms were common in the forest where the city was nestled. But this storm would bring much more than rain and thunder.

As a dark storm approached the town, one creature’s face bore a smile. He was a panthwar; an animal like a great cat, but upright, with the ability to speak. They were one of many creatures that were once persecuted for being inhuman, but long ago a reletive acceptance of these races had begun. The panthwars had always been respected as warriors by the humans, and their recent alliance with them was considered a great victory. They had settled in a remote region in Shalwood, a massive, thick forest that stretched across the southern half of the continent.

This particular male was a warrior, standing at six feet nine inches when at full height, and his black fur rippled with massive muscles when he moved. Sinewy straps of muscle wrapped his broad chest and thick shoulders. He had a peculiar feature: he had a blue nose and eyes. This is why his parents named him Indigo.

His joy was caused by a small, wet, mewling panthwar kit. He was now a father, for the first time in his 37 years of life. His mate, Vaoli, a skinny, yellow, lithe creature, was lying on the bed of pine needles before him. “Indigo,” she said weakly, “his pads are red.” Indigo smiled. He looked down at the kit’s paws. The soft flesh of his pads was indeed deep red.

“He shall be named Vermilion, son of Indigo.” Indigo said.

The sound of the emergency bells’ ring shattered the silence of the town. Then the door to Indigo’s small stone home burst open. A panthwar stood outlined by the rolling black clouds in the sky.

“Goblins!” the panthwar shouted. “I fear they know we’re defenseless!” Indigo stood up from his seat by his mate.

“I’d think they would avoid this city after the last time we sent them home with three troops.”

“This time’s...different.”

“How many are there?” Indigo probed.

“At least a hundred, armed with weapons from last weeks raid on the human storehouses. With all our warriors gone to assist the humans, we’re hopeless.”

Indigo grabbed his scimitar, Winterkiss. It was said by those who had survived it’s fury that it held the cold wrath of winter in its blade. He smeared a clear liquid from a flask on his belt onto the blade. “Not all warriors have left.” He slipped a cuirass lined with gold over his head, and turned to his mate. “I won’t be long.” He stepped into the pouring rain outside. He glanced at the hill across the city. It was crawling with goblin raiders. They seemed to be green ants, gathering around one huge creature. That would be the “Raidrunner” or Greatgoblin, usually older and much larger than the others. If it were not for this mildly intelligent goblin, the raids would be more like goblins wandering around and dying.

Suddenly the goblins on the hillside stumbled into a triangular formation. They were preparing to charge.

“Quickly!” The lean panthwar next to Indigo said. “The temple will be their first target! Come! The warriors- excuse me- volunteers- will assemble there.”

He took off running. The throwing axes at his belt bounced with each graceful bound. Indigo followed, glancing back at the hill. The goblins had begun their charge, some slipping on the muddy slope and being trampled by their comrades. They began to scream, a horrid raking noise, like steel on stone. That noise struck an unfamiliar despair into his heart.

When they reached the plaza in front of the temple, there was two dozen or so panthwars, mostly villagers, holding various weapons, waiting for the enemy. Indigo stopped running. This fight was hopeless. Goblins may not be smart, but they were relentless fighters.

A sopping wet male with light fur strode up to Indigo. “Steelclaws, I’m glad to see another warrior here,” the male said with a small smile. Indigo had been in a small crusading group who fought under the king’s name. He had earned the name Steelclaws there, due to his tendency to favor his claws over his sword in battle. This male, Varc, had fought in this group with him, as a healer and warrior.

“Did you see their numbers?” Varc asked. “Because I hear they have 300!”

“Not quite.” Indigo told him. “But the odds aren’t exactly in our favor.”

“What I’m wonderin’,” Varc whispered to Indigo, “is why are the goblins are after us. I mean, they’re just too dumb to figure out how to get inside a walled city like Verrere. And no siege engines, either.” This very thought had been troubling Indigo since the goblins appeared outside the city.

“They must have someone directing them,” whispered Indigo. He didn’t want to worry the volunteers.

There was a great crash followed by the sound of crumbling stone. A scout came dashing into the plaza screaming “They’re through the gate! They’re through the gate!" Worried looks appeared on the faces of the volunteers, and murmuring began.

“Someone needs to take charge here.” Varc whispered. Indigo nodded, and, even as the goblin mob charged up the cobblestone street, stood to his full six feet nine inches, and began to shout orders.

“Pole arms to the front line! Everyone else behind! Any bows or crossbows here?” Indigo dashed about, reassuring the makeshift army of forty. They seemed so pathetic compared to the throng of goblins rushing toward them. Varc was standing next to Indigo, his jaw dropped in horror as the goblins approached. They moved like a mass of gray-green skin and blades, as one. Near the back, a massive troll lumbered along. Its black, lumpy skin looked like wet leather in the rain. Its frontside was coated with splinters, probably because it had torn the gate to pieces.

Suddenly, the raiders stopped in their tracks, skidding on the wet stone. A battle scarred goblin strode forward. He was older than the other goblins, and therefore larger. He had many battle scars and was missing a long pointed ear, as well as a good amount of his snout. “I am Slash, Greatgoblin of the eastern hills,” he snarled to the group opposite of him. “You will surrender the rune to me, or I can’t account for the actions of my troops.”

This had to be the smartest goblin Indigo had ever seen. He used more than one five letter word in a single sentence.

“We will fight to the end, lizard.” Indigo shouted to the green skinned warrior. A roar of approval rose up from the group of panthwars.

“Very well cat, but you have just dug your own grave, along with every other panthwar here. Including your own lovely female.”

“You will never touch her.” Growled Indigo. Slash turned away calmly, chuckling softly. It sounded more horrible than nails scraping against a stone wall. “Charge.” He stated, as if an afterthought. The goblin raiders let out a whoop, and attacked.

Slowly, and painfully, Indigo opened his eyelids to a dull light. The smell of death crept into his nose. He felt his fur coat was matted with blood, his own and others’. He was in the courtyard, which had been mostly destroyed and burned by the goblin raiders. Bodies littered the ground, staining the mortar of the streets red and black, with blood of panthwar and goblin alike.

Indigo lifted himself to his feet and glanced at his right paw. Blood had crusted where his retractable claws would normally extend from, and they were lacking claws. He thought back to the battle. He remembered Slash’s final scream as he had torn his neck open. Afterwards he had been hit in the paw with a mace, popping the claws out. Then he was thrown against the wall by the huge troll, knocking him out. He must have been left for dead. The enemy had obviously won this engagement, for the temple door was broken, and every panthwar was dead, bar Indigo.

He approached the temple with caution, fearing that they left guards to pick off stragglers. But as he entered the temple, he realized the situation was far worse than he had thought. The altar where the Rune of Energy normally lay was shattered, the sacred relic gone.

He spent the next hour wandering aimlessly amidst the death and destruction that was now Verrere. At last, he came upon his own home, full of dread for what he would find inside, and knowing already what he would see.

He entered his own home and found the walls spattered with blood. He wanted to stop, turn, and run, but he couldn’t. It seemed that he was no longer in control of his own body. He had no will to go on, but his legs went foreword.

His family was hanging by their ankles in his pantry. They had been hacked at and cut with a serrated blade, like a saw. Indigo went numb with every passing moment. He couldn’t help but to envision what had happened.

The goblin gang probably rammed the door in, their purple tongues hanging from their mouth in bloodlust. Vaoli would have been sitting in the closet, clutching the baby. Or maybe she had been on the bed, unable to move because she had no strength remaining. Either way the results were the same. Visions of blood, screams and pain shot through Indigo’s head.

He didn’t feel the shock on his knees as he crumpled to the floor. At last he stood. His eyes shown with not only sorrow, but a newfound rage.

“He was just a newborn!” He screamed at no one. “How do you kill a newborn!” his voice faded, and at last tears came.

He spent an hour in front of his family, lost, trying to come to grips with reality. His whole life was hanging in front of him, torn and bloodied by a brutal world. He stumbled outside, collapsing from dry heaves. As a storm passed, one creature’s face bore the sorrow that no being should ever experience.