Into the Realm

by R W Foster

  Chapter 3

  1

  I sat up, feeling stiff with no idea of what happened. Then I remembered: the battle with the Crimson Walker! I tried to open my eyes. Nothing changed. Heart beating faster, I attempted to peel them apart. ‘Are the lids covered by mucus?’ Horrified, I found they were not. I was blind. I knelt in a bed, and rose to my feet. I took a single step, and fell to the hard stone floor. Dazed, I cried out in pain and shock, bringing running feet. Strong, soft hands lifted me up off the ground and back into the bed.

  “Try to be more careful, Master Blake,” a deep, masculine voice said.

  I sat up and demanded, “Who are you? Where am I?”

  “You’re in the infirmary. I am Healer Tonlin. I have only arrived today from out in the farm lands. A mysterious illness is blazing through those in the outlying farmsteads.”

  I frowned, having forgotten my distress for a moment due to this intriguing puzzle, “What are the symptoms?”

  “Abdominal pain, cramps, and frequent passage of watery diarrhea containing blood and mucus.”

  Surprised, I said, “That sounds like dysentery, a disease which also exists on my world.”

  “Can you name any cures?” Hope filled his voice.

  “No. However, I am aware of a treatment.” I shifted on the bed. “Make sure your patients drink a lot of clean water, mixed with small amounts of sugar and salt, and eat rice and dry bread. The mixture is to replace what they lose. The grain will help clear things up, and the provender enables them to rebuild their strength.”

  A long pause. I could almost hear Tonlin thinking whether or not to trust me. “Those are new to me. I’m willing to try anything that aids my patients.”

  I nodded and leaned back against the headboard. I closed my useless orbs. After several moments, he rose and prepared to leave. “Healer. Would you tell me what might be wrong with my eyes?”

  “Yes.”

  I waited.

  “They are gone.”

  ‘Well… fuck.’

  2

  I awoke some time later when someone sat on the edge of the bed, and a familiar voice spoke.

  “At last, you are awake. I am glad, Carter,” said Lady Orwen.

  “Thank you, Milady.”

  “Open your mouth. Time for you to eat.”

  I obeyed, and after three swallows of a rich broth, asked, “Milady, what happened to my eyeballs?”

  She sat in silence.

  “Milady?”

  Her gown rustled as she shifted to answer, “Carter, your eyes were burned out by the power released by the Angel and Walker as they battled. By a miracle you still live. Anyone else who looked at Azriel’s true form would be dead.”

  I struggled to keep from freaking out about not being able to see. I did not want to cry in front of this woman. I didn’t want her to think of me as a child. Yes, I had a huge crush on her, shut up and stop laughing at me.

  “Milady, what happened?”

  “Azriel took the eldritch monstrosity to a place where no one else would be injured during their battle. After many days, he managed to lock it away once more.”

  “He didn’t destroy the thing?” I asked incredulous, and then added, “Wait. Many days?”

  The Lady laughed hard. When her merriment faded, she said, “Walkers cannot be annihilated. Even by one as powerful as Azriel. You've been unconscious for over a week.”

  My jaw dropped. I don't know which startled me more. The fact a Crimson Walker couldn't be eliminated or I'd been out for so long. Taking advantage of my open mouth, Lady Orwen spooned in broth. I swallowed, and spoke again.

  “What are Crimson Walkers if an angel isn’t able to destroy them?”

  “They are an 'Engine of the End.' They are a sign of the apocalypse, though a powerful wizard can sometimes raise one to be an assassin.”

  I pondered that for a bit. I changed the subject. “Milady, what is Azriel?”

  I heard the smile in her voice as she answered. “My greatest champion and the right hand of Azerith.”

  ‘Wow.’ Azerith was one of the most powerful deities of BattleHammer, and did not interfere often. I didn’t know he had any active angels.

  “I wish to thank you for covering me. That was a kindness, as well as an act of uncommon valor.”

  My face stretched into a smile. “No need for thanks, Milady,” I said. “I deemed it an honor to do so.”

  ‘Ugh.’ I gave myself a mental forehead slap. ‘The fuck? Deemed it an honor to do so? Am I a 15th century samurai? Not smooth.’ She laughed.

  Eager to change the subject, I asked, “What happened to your clothes earlier?”

  “Due to the sortilege I used, and the power and purity of channeling Azriel, they disintegrated.”

  “Wow,” I breathed. “Strong magic.” I paused as another thought occurred to me. “Wait a minute, aren’t you a Warpriest of Kellün? Why is an angel of Azerith your greatest champion?”

  “I don’t understand Azriel’s guardianship. It is said he appeared to Father when I was born. Sages have been consulted for years to discover answers, but they have found none.”

  “Hunh,” I grunted. “Any idea about why I’m here?”

  “All I know is you are our only hope. Mordecai accessed oracles and they confirm it.”

  That was a scary thought. I had no clue how to help these people. I couldn’t even fight!

  “How are Lord Mordecai and Master Angriz?” I asked to change the subject again.

  “Angriz is now caged.”

  “What?!” I cried with disbelief. “Why?”

  “The taste of an intelligent being’s blood affects his mind. He is,” she paused and sighed, “Crazed. Mordecai restrained him before anyone was injured, or worse, killed. Angriz is imprisoned until he can be purified.”

  “What do you mean?” I leaned forward with caution. I didn’t wish to fall again.

  “Prayer is to be said over him throughout the night. When the dawn’s first rays touch him, the light will burn through him, purging the taint from his body. It is unfortunate, but all memories of who he was won’t exist anymore.”

  “What shall become of him?”

  “He’ll be released outside the city to make his way however he is able,” she said.

  “And his chances of survival?”

  “Without any knowledge of his past?” She paused to think. “Likely, none at all.”

  “How could you do that to him?” I demanded. “He saved a lot of people!”

  She hesitated. “Carter… he ate Father’s body!” Her voice cracked.

  As she cried, my heart broke a little. I pulled her close and gave her a shoulder to cry on. She clung hard as she sobbed.

  Someone entered the room.

  “Peels,” they said.

  The last things I was aware of were soup soaking into my crotch, and Lady Orwen collapsing on me.

  3

  Two weeks passed before I received any news about the princess. Someone took her.

  I was startled to discover how much people rely on sight to act. We look at so many things in our lives, and yet, we don’t observe them. I came to realize what we didn’t see tripped us up, in the literal sense, as well as the figurative one. Hell, before I lost my eyes, I traveled everywhere without even thinking. Now, I discovered myself always considering each step: the end of the bed I used sat sixteen and a half steps from the doorway, the armoire thirty-three paces. To arrive from the bedstead, I only had to travel nineteen. The first time I tried to find the desk, I banged my knee on the seat of its chair which was the same distance. The fireplace and chairs, I found with ease: I hit the mantle above the hearth chest first. I wound up stumbling back into one of the two seats. They were fifty-one steps from the four-poster. I didn’t know the precise location of the bookcase. To tell the truth, I could go without knowing. I wasn’t about to walk into the bloody thing, nor would I be reading anytime soon. I still decided to find the shelf. The placement was an unknown. I don't care
for unknowns.

  A throat cleared behind me. I turned to face the sound, empty eye sockets covered by a thin strip of cloth. I didn’t want to make anyone sick. “Yes?”

  “My friend,” Mordecai began. “I am so sorry for—”

  “Enough! Where have you been?” I felt feverish, breathing short and shallow, skin tingled as sweat formed, then rolled. ‘Calm down,’ I ordered myself. That ever work for you? Me either.

  “Attempting to find some trace of Lady Orwen.” He exhaled. “I have not been successful.”

  I grunted. “Alright. How do I get my eyes back? Is that possible?”

  He sighed again. “I’m afraid I don’t possess the knowledge.”

  “What the hell, Mordecai?!” Arms crossed, I scowled in his general direction.

  “I’m sor—,” he began.

  “How can you not?” I interrupted through gritted teeth.

  “I’m not all-know—” He said.

  “Aren’t you a wizard?” I continued to interrupt, muscles jumping and tensing.

  “My friend—” He tried again.

  “Don’t even start, you fraud! You rip me from my home, asking for my help, I might add. I’m attacked by some monster and get blinded!” I tore away the cloth, revealing empty eye sockets. “You tell me you don’t know if I’ll ever see again?” I shouted, jamming my finger in his general direction, feet planted wide. My pulse roared. I wanted to punch the most powerful wizard in the Realm. “How dare you call me your friend?”

  He growled as I fell silent. He took a deep breath.

  “Are you finished?” His voice was soft.

  Anger still boiled, but the rumble spooked me enough I decided to bite my tongue. “For now.”

  He waited for a bit. “I tried to help you,” he said. I gave a snort of derision. “I have. Disbelieve all you must, but that is a fact. I made an unsettling discovery.”

  That piqued my interest enough to ask. “What?”

  His robes rustled as he crossed the room. Mordecai pushed me back on the bed, and sat next to me. The bedstead sank deep beneath his weight. He gripped my shoulders. I guessed he was looking into my eyes, or at least, where they used to be.

  “My friend, you are immune to the magic of this world.”

  I sat in stunned silence. I would be blind forever.

  4

  I walked the castle grounds with care, concentrating on how to move without my sight. Seeing-eye dogs and white canes didn’t exist here. A couple of steps behind me, came the heavy tread of the bodyguard assigned to me. I hadn't bothered to learn his name.

  I walked in silence, the sounds of birds singing in the trees, the gentle breeze wandering through the grass, and the smooth conversation of a nearby river flowed over my mind. Wrapped up in my thoughts, I almost missed these things.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I thought.

  ‘Continue on, dummy,’ I answered myself.

  ‘We’re fucking blind!’

  ‘Big deal! We can still think! Maybe that is how we are meant to help.’

  ‘Fine. Now, about Lady Orwen.’

  ‘We just met her.’

  ‘She’s treated us better than any woman ever has from our first meeting. Other women waited until we made ourselves useful.’

  ‘Good point. So? The plan?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Thus my thoughts went, over and over. At times, I wondered if events had driven me crazy. A light touch on the shoulder made me pause.

  “Lord Blake,” the bodyguard said.

  “Yes?”

  “We are at the river's edge. A bridge is several paces to your right, milord.”

  “Thank you.”

  With that, I turned ninety degrees in the specified direction, and took eight calculated steps. Even without sight, I sensed the subtle change in sound and wind temperature that indicated I was next to the bridge. I rotated left and stepped on the connection with care. I felt the cobblestones through the thin leather soles of my new BattleHammer shoes. I counted my steps as we crossed. When the sound changed and the sensation of the ground differed, I ceased counting and came to a halt. Seven hundred forty-eight paces. ‘I cover around a meter with each stride. This means the span is about 683.97 meters from one side to the other.’ The calculations served to distract me from being blind; at least for a while.

  I resumed hiking, hearing the crunch of hard packed earth beneath my feet. I noticed the birds had stopped their twittering. Somewhere ahead, I caught the hot coppery scent of lifeblood. I came to a stop and signaled the bodyguard forward. He stepped to my side and I signed for silence.

  “Yes, milord?” He whispered.

  “I smell blood up ahead,” I breathed.

  A faint hiss as he drew his sword. He bade me to wait and crept along the path. An unknown amount of time passed. Then, an ungodly cry and my guardian screamed in anger. The ire became a shriek of agony. Running footsteps came.

  “Run, milord!” He shouted. “Werewolf!”

  Before I could respond, I perceived what my nose told me was the metallic odor of blood, splashing upon the ground. A sudden rush of air and a light thud indicated something landed near me. I no longer detected my bodyguard's footsteps. I assumed he was dead.

  The howl I'd sensed moments before erupted again, closer now. A rush of pounding feet as the creature raced towards me. Adrenaline dumped into me as I prepared to die. Off to my left, I swear Godzilla roared. A wave of intense heat flashed past. The werewolf bellowed in pain. I scented burning hair and roasting flesh, as the monster was consumed by the inferno. Overwhelmed by sound and odor, I dropped and vomited. When I had no more to disgorge, I sat back on my heels, and listened, intent on gauging my surroundings. Snuffled breathing sounded in front of me. I stood, movements tentative, and reached towards its source.

  “I don't know who you are, but thank you for saving me,” I said.

  I touched a scaled muzzle with long whiskers. The scales were like small interlocked plates. Hot, sulfurous breath caressed my face.

  “Angriz?” I asked in a low voice. ‘I so hope I’m not wrong.’

  The creature crackled and I caught a brief whiff of ozone. A sudden gust of wind slammed into me from behind. From all around came a burst of energy like thunder, but without sound.

  Then, “Carter?”

  "Yes."

  "What happened? Last thing I remember, we were being attacked by the Crimson Walker."

  "Well, the Walker flipped a guard's bloody head into your mouth. An angel named Azriel locked the it away. I became blinded. Lady Orwen was abducted two weeks ago and you were banished as a mindless beast."

  Angriz growled his displeasure. "That explains the blankness. How was I saved? When the blood of an intelligent being touches the tongue of a half-dragon, we are rendered senseless; wild and volatile. Nothing has ever brought one back from Bloodtaste before."

  I shrugged. “All I know is: my bodyguard and I were walking along the castle grounds. As you may imagine, I was making some attempts to deal with my blindness and the fact that I'd be this way forever,” I paused. The memory stung. “Anyway, after we crossed the bridge, I recognized the metallic scent of blood. I informed my guard and he had me wait, while he investigated. I think he went into the woods and was attacked. He ran back to warn me and was killed moments after. I was to be next, but you incinerated the thing before then. You approached me, and I reached out and touched your face."

  I said the last part, and we burst out laughing. He had a pleasant guffaw, not at all what I'd expected, more melodious than rasping. We laughed long and hard as the giddy might after finding themselves safe from a dire threat. Our amusement died away, and his large clawed hand grasped my shoulder.

  "Carter, I have no way to repay you for what you've given me. Words of thanks are inadequate.” He paused. “Come with me, I know of one who might help you regain your sight."

  "Mordecai said I'm immune to the magic of this world."

  Angriz snorted, "Lo
rd Mordecai isn't aware of everything, powerful as he is. A Weirdling lives a few days from here. She does not deal with Rakshasha or wizards. She only deals with those of dragon blood. Also, she may be able to tell us where Lady Orwen might be."

  "Alright," I said. "I suppose we should return to the castle and let everyone know we're leaving."

  "That wouldn’t be good. None ever came back from the Bloodtaste before. You must understand, they’d kill me without hesitation."

  “Fair point. Let's go then.”

  I can’t say why I chose to trust and follow him at that juncture; maybe because he gave me the hope of being able to see again. Maybe it was a way to piss off Mordecai for tearing me from my home. Petty? Good chance of that. I didn’t care, if so. The wizard’s choice caused me to tear me from my home ended with me blind.

  Without further words, Angriz took my wrist and led me into the woods. I sensed the transition from bright, warm sunlight to cool shade as we passed under the forest canopy. I perceived the soft swish of grass; I smelled the musty, damp scent of trees—pines, cedars and soon, willows. Life in the woodland became accustomed to our presence and resumed their usual activities: the thrum of the woodpecker as he hunted his dinner and the skitter of clawed toes as squirrels chased each other through the trees. In the distance, beavers chewed on trunks of pines as they built their dams. I both smelled and heard the brook as it meandered by the path, a small splash as a fish leaped into the air and fell back. I was delighted and amazed at all I was able to distinguish. For a city boy like me, it was wonderful, because I'd never spent any time outdoors. The adage about losing one of your senses and having another sharpen seemed to be true.

  After hours of travel, we stopped for the night. Angriz gathered wood, explaining that he would build a fire once he finished getting camp set up. I didn't want to be a burden, or to feel helpless, so I began to gather the deadfall into a pile for the blaze. My fingers became host to many splinters, and I cursed each that punctured me.