Unnamed…- Chapter 2
Hi everyone, got another instalment of the novel for you to have a look at…
Chapter 2- Just another day“It is nearly ready, master. All we now need is a sacrifice”
“Good. Find a suitable minion for your spells.”
“I… I cannot, master. For the ritual to work, one of a strong will must be sacrificed.”
“You have foreseen this person?”
“Indeed I have, master.”
“Go then. Find this strong-willed one of which you speak. The ritual must be completed.”
“Thy will be done.”
Fardan sat down at one of the tables in the main hall of the watchtower and looked down at the meal on the plate in front of him. It was a standard Riftwatch ration, decoratively spread around a plate. The
meal- if you could call it that- consisted of two small slices of salted beef, an apple and a cold, solitary carrot. It may be all dressed up, Fardan thought, but it’s still the same old thing we have for every meal of the day. Every day.
Even so, he thought, gazing down at the pitiful amount of food on his plate, the sooner I eat it, the sooner I can get out on patrol. With Keria. This last thought made him strangely happy, and he began to eat his meal quickly in anticipation. Only one thing was on his mind as he shovelled the salted beef down his throat. A certain female lieutenant in the Riftwatch.
* * * * *
A few minutes later, Fardan stood before his squad in the courtyard of the watchtower. They were a motley bunch, four men of varying sizes and equipment, but Fardan knew otherwise. These men were the finest that the cities of the north had to offer. They had proven themselves worthy of the Riftwatch a dozen times over.
There was Karath Heanes, a massive man who stood well over the height of Fardan, and Fardan was tall. Karath wasn’t just tall though, he was also immensely broad, and it was all muscle. Fardan imagined that Karath could probably push his way through a solid stone wall. Not that there’s much difference between the two, Fardan thought to himself. Sergeant Heanes was not as bright as most people, but possessed a kind of brute stubbornness that lesser men lacked, and his bravery was unmatched in battle. Karath carried a huge, single handed mace in his belt, which, Fardan guessed, powered by his enormous muscles, could probably smash a fortress gate apart. Over his back was slung a shield that was as broad as Fardan and nearly as tall- a veritable wall of black steel that was nearly impossible to penetrate. Fardan himself had seen swords and axes snap like twigs as they hit it.
Then there were the twins, Dranos and Juran, identical in almost every way. Around the same height as Fardan, they both carried a short sword and a dirk each, as well as an impressive selection of knives between them. Fardan had seen them use their weapons before- the two brothers formed a whirlwind of flashing blades in battle, and often an unwary foe had taken a carefully thrown knife in the throat after venturing too close. When on patrol, however, they were by far the most talkative of the squad. Between them, the twins had an almost endless roster of stories to tell, humorous quips to make, or, if they were in a good mood, classic drinking songs to sing. Fardan groaned at the thought, but was still pleased to have them with him. The added protection and company of the brothers was well worth the price of having to listen to them bawl out songs about ale.
Finally, there was Corporal Horas. Gaunt and extremely grim-looking, he was the squad’s ranged weapon specialist. Horas was a crack shot with any sort of crossbow, and had long been a valuable addition to the Riftwatch. A razor sharp, slightly curved blade hung at his side, and Fardan knew that he could use it. The Corporal was also one of the best mages in the watchtower, a true master of the spark of magical energy that lurked inside all human beings. However, there was something about him that made Fardan think that perhaps he too had something to hide from the rest of them. Perhaps it was the way that he almost never spoke, and when he did, used as few words as possible. Occasionally, Fardan would awaken at night to find Horas gazing into the glowing embers of the campfire, lost in some deep thought or memory. No emotion was ever visible on his face, except perhaps a glimmer of something like immense sadness or shame in the depths of his dark eyes. In battle, Horas fought with what seemed to be barely contained fury, and a strange ferocity unmatched by any others in the squad.
Fardan looked them up and down a few times, then began to speak.
“All right. You know the drill. Today’s patrol route’s along the south-east path- not much to see there except trees, as usual. Get your armour and weapons ready for patrol. I want you all back here within ten minutes. Squad dismissed.”
“Yes, sir!” Karath grinned as he said it.
“Short and sweet, just how I like it.” muttered Dranos. Both brothers stifled a giggle.
Horas merely nodded.
As the four men walked inside to retrieve their equipment, Fardan watched the squad parallel to his get dismissed by Keria. She caught his eye and grinned at him. Fardan blushed deeply for the third time that day, but managed a friendly smile. He nearly had a heart attack as she walked over to him. She stopped next to him, frowning at the clouds above.
“Looks like rain,” she grumbled, “Trust our luck to be out on a double patrol when it’s pouring down.” Fardan nodded.
“You reckon we’ll get any contact today?” he asked, referring to the frequent clashes with demons that often happened on a patrol. Usually Fardan came across raiding parties of twenty to thirty demons, but very rarely small armies came through, intent on destruction. In Fardan’s first year on a watchtower posting, three garrisons, including theirs, had to pull back to Carnul, the city nearest to the Rift and the only one in the Riftlands, as a huge invasion force of demons besieged them. Fardan was not anxious to see it happen again. Keria frowned again.
“It’s strange,” she muttered, “We haven’t had a contact for two weeks. Neither has the Captain, and from what I’ve heard, you haven’t either. I’m not sure, but I have a bad feeling about it. The little gits are probably planning something.” Fardan nodded again.
Keria gave a weak smile and pulled out her crossbow, checking the magazine, then sat down and drew her thin scimitar, sharpening it on a rock. She inspected the edge and grimaced.
“I’m going to have to make a visit to the city on my next leave,” she held up her blade, revealing a few notches on the edge, “It’s over a year since this thing got its edge repaired. I don’t know… you’d think the enchantments would prevent damage, but no, they just make it sharper and lighter.” Fardan glanced at the sword and noticed the faintly glowing runes carved into it. Then, he made his mistake.
“I’ll go with you if you want,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Fardan swore silently. He hadn’t meant to say that. Keria looked up, her face pleasantly surprised. After a moment’s silence, she stood up and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Yes,” she whispered, and smiled, “Yes, I’d like that.”
The conversation was quickly interrupted by clanking, voices and a loud wolf-whistle from one of the twins, signalling that Fardan’s squad had returned. Keria smiled and strode back to where her squad were waiting. Fardan turned towards his squad as the men formed a rough line in front of him. He grinned. No mockery from the twins was going to ruin his good mood now.
“Well then, lads,” he shouted in his best parade ground voice, “Not much to see today, so just keep your heads down and hope we don’t get a contact, because it’s going to be a long day! All set? Let’s get going!”
As they strode underneath the black steel portcullis and turned away onto the south-east path, Fardan was sure that Keria winked at him.