Realm Raiders – Midlogue & Chapters 10, 11, and 12

Midlogue

The Watcher by Rachel V. Green

I shouldn’t have allowed Bane to roast the Azrani priest’s bodyguard, it hardly constituted a neutral act.  

The dragon’s muscles ripple beneath my legs as we circle, his wing joints anchored behind my knees for stability. Gripping his familiar, rough scales I look down at the red-haired woman who stands over the gigantic Avarax, his black guts spilling out in a circle that encompasses her.  

For the first time in centuries, I shiver.  

The woman has more power than she knows. And rather than let her fall to the creature’s reaching claws as I should have, I had acted instead, sending it stumbling into the undergrowth as she ran on through the trees. I freed her from a death that should have been his to claim and in doing so, I broke my vow. 

In so many ways, it was a mistake. One I see playing out before me as Avarax’s hand loosens on the fangblade. The woman looks up, and across the impossible distance I see a lust for blood in her eyes, and a hunger not yet sated. She wants more. Always more, this one. And the bodies she has left behind her are but the first of many.  

“To the portal,” I say, digging my knees into Bane, who growls low in his throat, but dips one wing and spirals away, leaving Rhen Kaegan with the fangblade she should never have found.   

There will be consequences for my actions. Not only here in the Realms, but in the quiet spaces between, where I should have stayed, watching, weighing. There will be questions as to why. Why her? Why now? After so long on the sidelines, why extend my power to fell this beast at this moment. Already I feel my ties to the Realms faltering, the intangible threads that hold me here as witness, beginning to fray as I interfere where I should not. I’ve watched too long. Become…attached.  

I face the truth as I approach the portal; I do not want Vouring freed again. And nor, it seems, do I want Rhen Keagan to die.  

I’ve watched them all for years—the descendants of the nine—waiting for Vouring’s army to make their move and for the terrible destruction to begin anew. I watch them every time. Every five hundred years, since the beginning of time, when the binding spell begins to falter, and the heroes are called. There are always nine. But not this time, not now. Before they’d even received their summons, Rhen killed Hoji Tharafuil and Greton Zulog. As far as I can tell, the two men were unaware of their ancestry, as was Rhen, but the impact of their loss will be felt when the time comes. Rhen has changed things, seemingly for the worse. But something tells me there’s more to her than meets the eye. Kaegan’s line was always the brightest and she could be the key to ending the swing of this terrible pendulum, which see Vouring fall free twice a millennium.  

The portal is upon us, one of the last remaining as the spell weakens and Vouring’s strength grows. Bane tucks in his wings as the rip in the fabric of space envelops us, twisting into the vortex, which sucks at my grip, fingers of atmosphere pressing their advantage. Bane roars and fire swirls around us, singeing my hair and clothes. Again. The beast never learns. Thousands of times we’ve travelled the portals together and every time he roars.  

I’m blind in the vortex, pummelled by sensation but I know when we pass through the quiet space. Knowledge comes to me. The knowledge of all the watchers, and it’s with a sinking stomach I learn the other two items have been gathered: the righteous blade, the leprecoin. And now the fangblade too, thanks to my actions. All three items are within the hands of the remaining heroes and will soon arrive in the central nexus. Vouring’s plan is almost complete.  

It’s been painful to watch it unfold.  

Vouring’s army, the magi, have been busy. In the past, they only waited; counting down the years until the binding spell begins to fade. Then helping their master reek as much destruction as a dark god can before he is, inevitably, bound by magic once more. This time, however, the magi have not been content to wait. Perhaps they sense, as I do, that Rhen Keagan is different and that together with Lute, a descendant of unparallelled strength of heart, captivity may no longer be Vouring’s greatest threat. Perhaps, they seek true freedom for Vouring, one which cannot be contained by any magic.  

The magi planted the seeds of the heroes destruction weeks ago. First, they corrupted the weakest of the nine, dispatching him to deliver letters of lies, directing each of the heroes in search of their own destruction. When he failed to deliver all the letters, the magi found other ways. They sent a vision of Tam Becker to Lute, directed Morin Hast to Myra through dreams he didn’t even realise he’d had. Hoji and Greton were sent to Rhen years ago, mysterious benefactors paying them for meaningless jobs until by the time this job, the final job, came about, there was no one else Rhen would think to ask to accompany her. The magi lined up their pieces beautifully.  

And now, the surviving heroes are coming together. Not to bind Vouring, as they believe. But to free him.  

Bursting from the portal at the central nexus, I see the game is already afoot. Myra, Lute and Hast are already at the Citadel, staring up at the bound, dark god, the righteous blade clasped in Lute’s hand. Damon, Yaz and Nicky are close with the leprecoin, and Rhen isn’t far behind bearing the claws of a giant and a fangblade still wet with blood. They bring everything Vouring needs to escape his prison, forever.  

Vouring stirs as I coax Bane higher into the sky, rising above the buildings, above the knees of the god, the waist, the shoulders, until I am face to face with the tormentor. His eyes burn, as they have burned for eternity, and his incorporeal lips draw back into a snarl as I approach. 

“Watcher…”  

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Before . . .