Chapter One
The Calm
The morning was cold and damp, with the sun having only just risen somewhere behind a heavy curtain of grey. In a shady grove, beneath a canopy of dew-covered leaves, the clashing of swords rang out to signal the dawning of another day at Blackwood Manor. Waist deep in a sea of thick, lazy fog, two men did battle, their blades flashing and crashing like the storm that threatened to tear open the sky above.
The two men, one more a boy, could not have been more different from each other. The larger, and older man, was gruff and hardened, innumerable scars spread jagged across his bare chest, in all directions like thirsty tree roots. He was tall and lean, wiry some might say, but his strength was apparent upon sight. Long white hair pulled back into a ponytail defied his relative youth, for he was the older man here, yes, but he was not old.
His long bony fingers coiled like snakes around twin hilts, each sprouting razor sharp blades that curved towards him, before hooking back into cruel barbs. They were his fangs, and he was the Viper.
The Viper, as he was called by many for his fast, snaking movements, and the deadly bite of his fangs, spun backwards, effortlessly partying a flurry of blows from the younger man - the boy. He was a lad of seventeen, strong and hungry. A suit of hardened black leather above a coat of light chain-mail protected his pale, unscathed body. Upon his breast, etched in dark grey, barely distinguished against the black leather, was the seal of the Blackwood family. A raven, perched upon the blade of a sword, spread it's wings from shoulder to shoulder.
In his hands he wielded a bastard sword, with noticeable skill. Unlike the grace and precision of the Viper, the boy swung with strength and fury. Green eyes burned with desire, the whole world encapsulated within.
The boy, Marcus, was the son of Lord Blackwood, and this lesson with the Viper was one of the many perks to being a rich man's son. He wanted for nothing. Nothing, that is, but to leave Blackwood behind, abandoning the money and the titles for a chance to see the world.
"One day, when you are the Lord of Blackwood, you will travel the world and see the sights," his father had told him. "But for now, you must remain in Blackwood, finish your studies, and become a man worthy of Lordship."
Marcus did not wish to be a Lord, however. He wanted to be a knight, or even a mercenary - maybe even a Nightreaver, like Noctus - the Viper. His father would never understand this, however, having never held a blade in his life. For all the difference between Marcus and the Viper, they were cut from the same cloth. Marcus and his father, however, were two different fabrics entirely.
"Watch the shoulders, stay in between the blades," the grizzled warrior instructed. The Viper thrusted forward with his left, then followed quickly with a powerful overhand from his right. The boy parried the first attack, and then sidestepped the second, before lunging in for a counterattack. Marcus roared as he threw all his weight into a rising horizontal slash across the Viper's body. The swing could have done serious damage, had Noctus been there to accept it - but as the scars upon his chest indicated, Noctus had taken many such wounds before, and he had no desire to suffer another.
The elder man stepped inward, towards the vicious attack. He positioned his left forearm upon that of the boy, taking away the power of the swing and effectively halting the attack. Before Marcus could react, the Viper brought up his right fist and smashed it into the younger man's temple.
A bright light flashed across Marcus's vision, like a blinding bolt of lightning from the darkened sky. He wobbled, and tried to regain his footing, but before he could he felt a quick tug just behind his knee, and his legs were relieved of the weight of his body. He saw his sword go spinning away from him, overhead, before disappearing behind a veil of grey, as Marcus fell to the ground and was swallowed into the bed of fog.
