Sneak Peak at a Sci-Fi WIP
Here's is the prologue for a work that is currently a super rough draft. I don't even have a title for it yet. So I apologize for any mistakes.
--
TW: some graphic violence.
--
Private Elias sharpened his arrows, eyes glancing furtively in the darkness. The back and forth, back and forth movement of his whetstone did little to soothe him. “Shouldn’t he be back by now, sir?”
“Give him another two minutes,” Sergeant David Rogers replied.
Elias focused on his arrows, squinting. Their planet might have two moons, but one was a sliver of a crescent, and the other was below the treeline. They didn’t dare light a fire.
Scouting missions were the worst. A hundred different things could go wrong, and if they did, any backup they called would arrive far too late to do anything. They were a four-day walk from Citadel, right on the edge of enemy territory.
And for what? To track a couple of missing hunters that everyone knew were dead, but didn’t have the guts to say aloud.
After inspecting his arrow in the ghastly light, Elias added it to the growing pile next to his thigh. He got another.
The third member of their party, Private Aban Violette and their best tracker, had left to set up a perimeter, checking it for any signs of demon inhabitance before they settled in for the night. If they were close to a den, Aban would know, and they would backtrack a few miles before going to sleep. (And then hopefully backtrack all the way back to Citadel. If the hunters had gone this far—as it looked more and more likely—to chase after their dumb prey, then they were definitely dead.)
“I wouldn’t worry about the demons too much,” Sergeant Rogers said.
Elias stiffened, and opened his mouth to protest. His commander beat him, “In the end, they’re just animals. Not much up here.” He tapped his temple.
Elias looked down at his arrows. “Yessir,” he said.
There was an awkward pause. Rogers cleared his throat. “You still dating that other Nameless?”
It was a half-desperate attempt to get the young man to calm his nerves. Elias had turned twenty last month, and this was the longest he’d been away from home. And the farthest. And in the most danger.
He grasped onto the distraction with both hands, even as he focused on sharpening his arrow. “Yes, sir. Please don’t laugh.”
Rogers grinned. “So it’s true. Can’t say I’m surprised. You two belong together.”
Elias blushed, adding his arrow to the pile and picking up a new one. “Just because we’re both Nameless doesn’t mean we belong together.”
“It’s a conversation starter, at least.” Rogers made a face. “Don’t know how you can really have a conversation with her, though. Isn’t she dumb?”
“She’s brilliant. She just can’t talk. Not like us, anyway.”
“She’s so odd, though.”
“Which means it’s never boring,” Elias said, a defensive edge to his voice. “Sir.”
Rogers held up his hands. “Whatever makes you happy, and if that’s Olivia, then good on you, Private.”
Well, at least Elias wasn’t as nervous about being in the woods. Now he was pissed. So what if his girlfriend was a little weird? She was fascinating. And obviously cared about him, considering the fact that she’d made all of his arrows herself.
Once he got out of this damn forest, back to Olivia, he’d broach the subject of marriage. They’d been together for over a year now. Not long enough to propose, but definitely long enough to float the idea to her...
Rogers straightened. “Finally, Violette. We were getting worried.”
Elias looked up. Violette’s shadowed figure moved toward them. He stiffened. “Sir?” he whispered. “Something’s not right.”
It took a second, but he finally put his finger on it. It was the way Violette moved. There wasn’t a natural cadence to his step. There was no step. It looked like the man was gliding toward them; Elias couldn’t even hear his feet hit the ground.
The answer became obvious when Violette came into the moonlight. His feet weren’t hitting the ground. He was floating to them.
And he was very, very dead.
He’d been gutted, his uniform, chest, and organs shredded. The massive dent in his skull explained why he hadn’t screamed: they must have hit him in the head with a rock.
Violette’s corpse hovered in front of them, and then dropped.
Rogers jumped to his feet. “Run!”
Elias reached for his arrows, only for his fingers to grasp dirt.
Cold dread settled in his stomach. He turned his head, and saw his own arrows floating in the air, pointed at him and Rogers.
They both moved at the same time: Rogers ran, Elias ducked.
The arrows shot forward. Elias screamed when the stone tips pierced through his arm, but he’d managed to protect himself well enough that they didn’t hit anywhere more fatal.
Rogers wasn’t so lucky. Completely exposed, half a dozen arrows had buried themselves in his chest. He went down in a heap.
Elias struggled to his feet, hissing against the pain. Angels protect me, he prayed, stumbling forward. Angels protect me...
A low growl stopped him.
Even when he looked in the direction of that growl, he couldn’t see anything through the trees or the darkness. But he knew it was there. Knew that it was baring its teeth, narrowing its yellow eyes, tensing its legs to jump...
Then it lunged. Elias felt the claws in his chest and the dirt hit his back, and then the demon’s teeth were in his throat.