Part 1- Ten years later Chapter 1 A boy, no more than twelve years old, lies in a bed. The window opens. A shadow-shrouded shape emerges from outside. A mouth opens, exposing sharp canine fangs, glinting in the light of the full moon…. Fardan El’sare sat bolt upright in bed, his adult body drenched in cold sweat. Groaning, the big man hauled himself out. The dreams were coming to him again, worse than before. They always came close to the full moon. He instinctively brought his eyes around to meet the scar on his wrist.A bite, no more than a scratch, but it had done what was intended. Fardan began to get dressed. In the tall mirror that hung on the wall of his sleeping quarters, he could see quite clearly the amulet that pressed against his throat. A sign of his curse, unable to remove it. Reviled, cast out of his village for what he had become…. Once dressed, he began to haul on the helmet and breastplate that were standard issue for the Riftwatch. They were made of black steel, a substance found only where the Rift was near. Next, he began to inspect his weapons. A light crossbow hung on the wall, a strange weapon that had a magazine for bolts mounted above the stock. Fardan had a look, unclipped the magazine and made sure it was full of bolts. Then, he drew his sword, Moonfang, a long hand-and-a-half sword with the name carved into the handle and strange runes inscribed onto the dark metal of the razor-sharp blade. Fardan had long suspected that there was some enchantment upon the thing, as it was always sharp and seemed to glow as it sliced through demon flesh and armour with ease. Even now, he could not quite understand how he had found the sword, all those years ago. Running with the pack, needing a weapon. A black blade, lying in the pack’s den. The boy had taken it, kept it… Fardan shook his head, unsettling the short, brown hair sprouting from it, attempting to drive the dreams from his head. These were not ordinary dreams. They were visions of his childhood. * * * * * Fifteen miles away, the Rift shimmered above a ruined city. It was not immediately noticeable to the naked eye, but a careful observer would notice a displacing of the air, almost like heat rising off a surface, and a slight patch of darkness, as the light was sucked away. No one quite knew how the Rift had appeared. It was said by some that a great demonic creature had torn into this world, rending the fabric of reality apart and laying waste to the city and the lands around it, reducing them to a harsh desert where nothing would ever grow and madness and mutation awaited those that lingered too long nearby. Another darker, but possible theory was that the ancient sorcerers of the aeons-old city had meddled in powers too great to control, tearing the barrier between the dimensions in a single, almost apocalyptic explosion. However it had been created, the Rift was well known as a place of peril, a great planar hole where demons and entities that were the stuff of nightmares poured through and ran amok. In fact, only a few demons ever came out at a time, but this was enough to stop anyone from even considering going near. Except for a few. A group of warriors whose duty was to protect the world from the creatures within the Rift. The Riftwatch. The Riftwatch was strangely organised compared to most other fighting forces, which was not really surprising, as it was by far superior to those, in both skill and fame. A small army created and trained solely for the purpose of destroying demons, the Riftwatch took only the best- either from a local army such as the Carnu Guard, or sometimes wandering warriors from far distant lands. These were issued with the best equipment, although unlike other armies, they did not always issue weapons. Members were encouraged to use the weapon they were most skilled with, whether the standard issue weapon of the army they were part of, a personal weapon or something they had a natural talent with. The Riftwatch was organised into several garrisons, each split up into three squads of five men. The squads consisted of a senior officer, a Sergeant and three Corporals- promotion to Corporal was the normal procedure after a recruit had passed the three years of Riftwatch training. Each garrison spent most of their time in one of the ten watchtowers surrounding the outskirts of the Inner Riftlands, the area fifteen miles away from the Rift itself, where its influence was strongest. This was a depressing place, where the sun was barely able to poke itself through the masses of swirling clouds that loomed over the hills, forests and moors that the Riftwatch had to patrol over each day. Dawn was usually only visible by the lightening of the black clouds. Each squad in each garrison had a different patrol route, and their job was to trudge along it each day, in the pouring rain, the only respite from the dreariness being the quite common skirmish with a warband of demons, in which each squad member had to fight, kill and risk their lives in battle. It was one hell of a job. * * * * * Fardan opened the door of his room and began to walk down the winding stairway that led from his room to the first floor landing, where the many stairways of this particular watchtower joined before leading down to the main floor of the building. This was where Fardan was heading. The watchtower could be very confusing at times, huge as it was. It was the home of three squads of the Riftwatch. Fardan led one of the squads, as, being a lieutenant, he shared the second highest rank in the watchtower. The highest ranking officer, leading another squad, was Captain Isath, who also effectively ruled the watchtower. The third squad was led by Keria. Keria. Fardan didn’t quite understand his feelings for her. He respected her, of course, as she was a great warrior in her own way and already shared the second highest rank in the garrison, being a lieutenant like Fardan. But there was something else….. a tiny spark of something, something that made him turn his head to look at her on patrol and made him shy to speak to her. She had a strange, almost exotic beauty about her, and wielded the foreign scimitar she carried in her belt with immense, perhaps unearthly skill- you could never tell the difference with some members of the Riftwatch. Look at me, Fardan thought, they let me in, even with my un-naturalness. Fardan knew that this was not quite true. None of the Riftwatch knew his secret, at least, not as far as he knew. He doubted that he would have been allowed into a city, let alone the Riftwatch, if they did. Most people did not tolerate those who were different from them, especially in the way that Fardan was. Lost in his thoughts, Fardan forgot to look where he was going and strode headlong into someone. He blushed deeply as he untangled himself and realised that it was Keria. “S..s.. sorry!” he stammered as he hauled her upright, “I wasn’t…” “Watching where you were going?” Lieutenant Keria smiled at him in an affectionate way, resulting in more embarrassed blushing. “Um… yes.” Fardan muttered, then realised that Keria was also in full armour. She noticed what he was looking at and frowned. “Early patrol.” she explained, “That blasted Captain Isath wanted two squads out today, on separate paths. All part of his new effectiveness plan for the Watch.” Fardan rolled his eyes and groaned aloud. He was well accustomed to Isath’s ‘effectiveness plans.’ “More like his latest scheme to steal the tower’s salted beef supply!” he muttered. Keria burst out laughing and gave him a playful shove. Fardan staggered back three feet. Keria might have been shorter than him- her head, even with it’s long, light brown hair, only came up to his neck- but she was very strong. Fardan shakily regained his footing and began to walk down the main flight of stairs with her, swapping jokes and stories as they went. Someday, thought Fardan, as Keria began to recite one of her famous long-winded jokes, I will get to know her better. Someday soon.