So this is an excerpt from the first chapter or prologue of my WIP. The person whose point of view is being shown isn’t the main protagonist, but its not going to be a case where a meaningless character is introduced in the first chapter and then they’re killed off in that same chapter or something. I plan on bringing in this character again later in the story. Any feedback at all is welcome! 🙂
Prologue/Chapter 1 Excerpt
I was alive, I realised. I was truly – alive. Though I certainly had a bad dose all right, if the agony in my muscles and bones was anything to go by. Even so, the hold this spell had on me had been broken. Thank Dēwos. I wasn’t evaporated into nothingness. I let out a soft cry of relief, smiling faintly. Death had certainly not gotten the better of me yet.
I could see bodies scattered around me, dark shapes fading in and out of my gaze. And an orange red light, flickering and dancing. Fire? Where did that come from?
After several excruciating moments, I regained some of my sight. Blinking the hot dampness from my eyes, I tried to take in my surroundings. The asarlaithe were all lying in crumpled, broken heaps, as if they had been struck down like dominos. Dead? Or maybe just unconscious. I couldn’t help hoping that the former was true. I smirked. So much for their colossal power.
To my right lay the battered remains of a vehicle. Its rear lights were on, glowing like rubies. Well – at least I knew what the ‘fire’ really was. Stinking gas was rising up into the air, meaning that engine was banjaxed of course. I blinked the sweat from eyes, my mind whirring. Someone had driven that jeep right in. And in doing so, had saved me.
I had to be saved. From weedy sorcerers of all things. I gritted my teeth in frustration. There had never been a lower point in my life than this moment. <i>”</i>Mortifying,” I muttered to myself. “Someone had to save you as if you were a wee lamb, eejit.”
Remembering the brutal twinging in my right arm, I turned to see it still pinned into the wall, the glow still emanating from dagger.
I wasn’t stupid. I recognised the symbols carved on it, the faint circular lines splaying out and splitting my skin. I spat at the ground in disgust. The sigils of Crom Cruach. I couldn’t help shuddering when I thought about what they had tried to do to me. Until I was abruptly saved by a jeep of all things. A stinking jeep. If that didn’t reduce my honour to cinders I don’t know what did.
Blood sacrifice. They attempted to destroy my body, my life, in order to attain forbidden power from a bottomless pit of chaos. I had never witnessed one up close before. Until now. In the worst way possible too. Crikey. At least I knew now what it felt like. I let out a bitter chuckle, which turned into a hiss as the pain in my right arm intensified.
Hazily, I turned to examine my left arm, wondering why I felt such numbness. At first, I didn’t register the empty space, the wispy ash floating in the air, the blackness covering my bicep. I stared, my breathing becoming shallow.
I blinked, hoping it was a mistake. I was suffering from hallucinations. The intense pain was making me see things. I had to be wrong. Because – there was no way.
My shoulder twitched, and flakes of blackened particles fell off the stump. White noise deafened me. I suddenly found it impossible to control my breathing. Where – what –
I wanted to roar with rage and horror, but no sound came out. Just this hoarse choking sound as I stared at the blackened stump that looked as though it was about to crumble even more.
It was gone. My arm – was gone.
“Gone,” I whispered, my vocal chords straining. That word was the thing that undid me completely. I let out a strangled yell, a crescendo that split my head open and made my eyes water.
I don’t know how long I was roaring for, effing and blinding as if there was no tomorrow. I might have thrown up a couple of times too. Oh yes, my honour had most certainly been sucked down the drain.
I looked around frantically, hoping against hope that my arm was sitting here somewhere, and I had just missed it. My eyes fell on a shape lying motionless several yards away from me. The body of someone much smaller than all of the warriors. Someone who wasn’t wearing the embroidered Grim Reaper attire of the asarlaithe. Limbs spread eagle and face down.
My gaze moved towards the smoking jeep that was lying on its side, its windshield smashed. Calculating the distance between the wreckage and the small body, I knew it was a no brainer who the person was and how he or she had gotten here. A human, from what I could sense.
A part of me wanted to move closer, to crawl to that human and check for signs of life, even though I knew it was a lost cause, but my pinned forearm prevented me. Besides that, the agony in my legs, my torso – every part of my muscle – was excruciating. I tried to move my left leg slightly and ended up screaming through gritted teeth.
I wanted to move off this blasted circle. The longer I stayed here, the worse chance I had for escaping. Any moment, the portal could be restarted somehow. I couldn’t be sure that the sorcerer-freaks were all dead. But I couldn’t move an inch without feeling that burning pain.
And my arm was gone. I shook my head vigorously, numbness filling me. “This isn’t real,” I muttered to myself desperately. “My arm isn’t gone. I’m dreaming, it’s all just a brutal dream-“
I heard a soft groan. I blearily moved my head in that direction, seeing movement out of the corner of my eye. The small figure was stirring ever so slightly. My heart rate sped up. The little human responsible for the failed ritual – who had knocked the wretched wizards down like dominos – who had quite literally smashed through a windshield – was still alive?