Veer ~ Rise Of The Sisodia's [#YourStoryIndia]

Prologue

As his enormous, calloused hands crushed the life out of his Turk opponent, the Indian warrior hissed, the veins on his forehead showing out vividly, his massive biceps straining with exertion. His adversary grabbed the armour on his broad chest, then clawed at his eyes. But the Turk's power was nearly depleted, and his pitiful efforts had little effect on the fearsome warrior, who proceeded to strangle the man he straddled mercilessly.

The Turk's face flushed, and his pupils dilated. Then his tongue protruded from his mouth, and he lay lifeless. The Indian warrior continued to press down on his opponent's neck for a few more seconds before raising the head and bashing it down hard on the stony ground, cracking the skull. Just to be sure. He let go of the lifeless corpse and staggered to his feet, overcome with exhaustion.

The warrior stood tall, his taut muscles rippling across his slender physique, broad at the shoulders and chest, narrowing to a slim waist and muscular legs. Countless scars marred his light brown skin. Today many new wounds had been added to his body. He cautiously stretched his bruised limbs, attempting to alleviate the weariness and pain that had taken over his body.

A wounded Turk a little distance ahead spotted his chance. He staggered to his feet, grabbed a sword, and swung fiercely at the Indian warrior. The warrior's inherent agility and battle-honed reflexes protected him despite his weariness. The blade narrowly missed him as he swayed back. The force of the strike took the weapon safely past the warrior, leaving his assailant's right flank open. The warrior knocked him down with a powerful punch to the jaw. The blade slipped from the Turk's grasp.

The frightened Turk slowly attempted to regain his footing. He was able to bring himself into a kneeling position. The warrior picked up the sword that had clattered to the ground, held it high, and slammed it down vertically into the back of the Turk's neck, all the way up to his heart. It was an instant kill.

The warrior rested on the sword. Exhausted. Bleeding. But he was well aware that there would be no reprieve. He was the crown prince of Bundelkhand in the central north of India. On Gujarat's western coast, he and his army had rushed to Somnath to help the Indians gathered there to defend the famed Shaivite temple from the Turkic invader, Mahmud of Ghur. They had just fought the Turks' advance guard and skirmishers. They were aware that the main Turkic force had not yet arrived. They needed to unite together. Once again.