Into The Realm: The Chronicles of Carter Blake (raw update)

Later in the evening, I sat before the fire, reading a book I’d found on the shelves behind the door. The chair was even more comfortable than it looked. The seat and back were thick and soft. When I sat down, I sank nearly a foot into the seat. The back enveloped me like a warm hug from my mom. ‘Damn this room is fucking cold,’ I thought. The book I chose to read was a history of the Orwen family. From what I gathered, they had ruled this land for nearly four thousand years. Their sovereignty was literally a divine right: the chief god Chokkan had crowned Kandel Orwen king after he alone had answered the deity’s call for aid, during a particularly gruesome battle. I thought it was interesting that a character created by Anderson was real. Then again, so were Mordecai and Drago.
I was reading about King Ohrel Orwen’s negotiation of peace between the High Elves and the Golden Dwarves fifteen hundred years later, when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to see a boy, maybe six, or 8 years old. He was dressed in a silver robe trimmed in light blue. His shaggy blond hair looked as if it had been styled by someone with a bowl and dull shears.
“Lord Blake, His Grand Majesty Redigar has granted you an audience,” he said gravely. “I, Tolar, have the honor of conducting you thence.”
Responding in the same manner, I answered, “Please lead on, then, Master Tolar.”
He gave a slight bow of his head, turned and led me down the stairs and through the castle.
Hoping to learn more (that haircut was really bugging me, no one I knew would allow that to happen to their hair), I spoke my question.
“Say, Master Tolar, what happened to your hair?”
He reached up and touched it. “What do you mean?” he asked, defensively.
“It looks,” I paused.
“Well?” he demanded impatiently.
“How do I put this delicately? Um, it looks, well, barbarous.”
“I did it, thank you, very much!” he said heatedly.
‘Yikes.’ “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend, I’ve just been to a place where the length of someone’s hair meant something,” I said, hastily.
“Really?” In his curiosity, he forgot his anger.
“Indeed. Hair cut like yours would have been a mark of his being someone’s property.”
“I apologize for taking umbrage,” he said.
“It’s my fault for not thinking.”
He grinned at that.
Okay, so I lied, and that whole hair thing took place in a book series and related to women. He didn’t need to know that, did he? Especially with what happened? We walked for what must have been forty-five minutes, going down some stairs, up others, in through some doors and out through others. As we wandered, I found myself wondering just how big this castle was. At the same time, I had a growing suspicion that we had doubled back on ourselves. ‘This is really weird,’ I thought. We passed a green marble sculpture of a knight standing with the tip of his sword in the base, his hands folded over the hilt. When we passed it again, five minutes later, I stopped. Tolar glanced back at me and waited.
“Tolar, why are we going in circles? We’ve passed this statue already,” I stated.
“That is impossible,” he replied sharply. “None could interfere with the castle’s Spell of Travel. It was cast by wizards of epic might.”
“I’m telling you, we passed this statue once already,” I argued.
“And, I am telling you: That. Is. Impossible!” he said stridently, slowly walking back towards me.
I suddenly noticed his right hand was clenched in a fist and was glowing with an eldritch yellow light. ‘By all the hells,’ I thought. ‘Is it just me, or does this kid have anger issues?’ Having no wish to further antagonize the young mage, and become recipient of some nasty spell, I constructed a plan I hoped would placate him.
“I have an idea: let’s place a mark on this statue, and then resume walking. If we see an identical statue, and there is no mark, I’ll humbly beg your forgiveness on bended knee. However, if there is a mark, I suggest we investigate. Fair enough?”
As he considered my plan, the light faded from his relaxing hand.
“Agreed,” he said finally.
Producing a piece of charcoal, he placed a sigil at the knight’s sword hilt. Without another word, Tolar stalked off. ‘I guess he is still upset about the hair remarks. How do I fix this?’ I thought as I hurried to follow. Exactly five minutes later, we again reached a green marble statue of a knight standing with the tip of his sword in the base, his hands folded over the hilt. We looked at it. When he saw there was no mark, Tolar pointed triumphantly.
“You see?” he exclaimed. “I told you: there is no way for anything to interfere with this castle’s magic.”
I examined the sculpture where he’d drawn the sigil more closely. I still had a nagging feeling about this statue. (Oh, alright. I admit it: I really didn’t want to kneel before this kid.) I soon found it: a smudge of carbon at the point of the sword.
“Hey, Tolar, look at this: it seems your mark was rubbed away.”
He bent and spotted the smear. A silvery glow limned his hands as he ran them over the base. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. Tolar stumbled back, his face pale and filled with horror. The green statue suddenly cracked and crumbled, belching a thick cloud of fragments and dust. I pressed myself against the stone wall, whipping my arm to my face to protect against the enveloping gloom. As the dust slowly cleared, we saw that where a green statue once stood, there arose a scarlet armored behemoth. It strode from the pedestal, and with a casual backhand swing of its sword, cleaved Tolar in two. Crimson blood sprayed up the wall. Without hesitation, I turned and ran, heedless of where I went, eager to escape the monster that had easily killed a boy.
I ran for what seemed to be hours, throwing things to the ground as I ripped past them. Nothing worked. The implacable footsteps of the scarlet knight remained close behind me. Spying twin oak doors, I crashed through, slamming them behind me. I wheeled around intending to run further, when I realized I was in the throne room.
The king, a balding older man, sat imperiously on the ornate chair. On his right, and slightly behind him was Lady Orwen. Standing before him was Mordecai and Angriz.
“What is the meaning of this?” the king thundered.
Before I could answer, the doors blew open in an explosion of splinters. Striding through the cloud of debris, dislodging a chunk of the doorway with its helmeted head, was the scarlet knight. I dove to one side, trying to keep out of the monster’s way.
“By the gods!” exclaimed Mordecai. “A Crimson Walker!”
“Your majesty—!” Angriz began.
Before he could complete his words, the Crimson Walker spun its sword arm in a circle, launching the weapon faster than the eye could follow. There was a red streak in the air, and the scarlet sword was buried to the guard in the king’s chest. An instant later, the blade faded to a mist, and reappeared in the Walker’s fist.
“Father!” screamed Lady Orwen, with a wail of immeasurable grief that would haunt me to my dying day.
Mordecai threw his fist at the knight. There was an instant of absolute blackness, followed by a blinding flash of light. The entire left side of the Crimson Walker’s torso disintegrated. Royal guards flooded the room as Angriz roared and charged the Walker. His enormous sword slashed through the Walker’s middle. A split second later, threescore arrows thudded into it.
A scarlet boot crashed into Angriz’ head, sending him tumbling into the polished black granite wall. Green blood poured from the half-dragon’s mouth as he struggled to rise. A sudden slash of a crimson blade decapitated a dozen men. To my shock, the Crimson Walker slowly shimmered back into existence. The world turned ebony once more; but this time, when the light returned, there was no damage to our foe.
“Get down!” bellowed Angriz.
Everyone dropped flat. The mighty warrior gave forth a roar reminiscent of his mighty dragon ancestors and a terrible conflagration issued from his open maw. Flames eagerly roiled over the huge red knight, slowing and beginning to melt it. Not yet defeated, the Walker abruptly bent, plucking up a severed head, and flung it at the half-dragon. The head rocketed through the flames and lodged in Angriz’ open mouth, abruptly extinguishing the flames. Dimly, I was aware of Lady Orwen chanting… something. I had no idea what. My attention was taken up by what was happening to Angriz at the moment.
His mouth was lengthening, becoming a muzzle. His teeth were growing longer and sharper-looking. His fingers lengthened and fused until he had three digits and an opposable thumb. Each was tipped with a thick, black talon. His body began to elongate, his muscles stretching and growing bigger. His feet grew longer, and narrower, the toes, tipped with long black claws, ripped through his boots. His scales, once a lustrous gold, were now a mottled yellow and were banded by a greenish bronze.
The Walker soon grabbed my attention again, wading through the amassed guards, slaughtering them by the dozens with every swing of its immense blade. Blood ran in rivers across the floor. Men and women fought valiantly, but futilely. Their blades simply shattered upon the scarlet armor. Mordecai flung his arms skyward and bellowed out strange words. “Dragostea Hoarl!”
Seconds later, colossal skeletal hands, surrounded by hellfire, arose from the floor and latched onto the Crimson Walker.
“Tulak Harool!” cried Mordecai.
The bone hands began to squeeze. The Walker appeared to crumple, then flexed horrifically, shattering the hands. It whirled its sword arm again. Over the tumult of battle, and screams of the wounded, came Lady Orwen’s voice.
“Shut your eyes!” she cried out. Her voice was a strange mix of terror and exhalation. “It’s coming! Shut your eyes! Shut your—” her voice spiraled up and out of range.
Upon Lady Orwen’s first command, almost everyone closed their eyes and turned away. I, however, did not. I was too entranced by what I was seeing: a brilliant white light engulfed her body. I barely recognized her form through it. Her clothes burst into flames as the light grew even brighter. I perceived a ringing at the edge of my hearing. The ringing and light increased in intensity. I suddenly felt every hair on my body stand. There was a final, brilliant flash, as if I was next to a detonating nuclear device, then, eerily and quickly the light vanished.
I ran to Lady Orwen, stripping off my shirt as I went. She determinedly held herself up by grasping the back of her now deceased father’s throne. I tugged it down over her head, covering her nude form. Even at this moment, I had to admit: her body was fantastic. Especially as hers was the first nude female form I’d seen. Oddly, there was nothing, not a scrap of fabric, not a loose thread, nor any ash to indicate she’d ever been clothed before. I wondered what caused her clothes to burst into flames.
Shaking away the useless thoughts, I turned to what was happening behind me. What I saw, took my breath away as if I’d been punched in my solar plexus.
The being standing before me, head brushing the ceiling, was approximately three point sixty-five meters tall, and one point fifty-two meters across his shoulders. Two enormous white wings spread out from each shoulder, nearly touching the opposite walls, and then swept back to rest against his body. Bulging muscles rippled under his golden skin. He was bald, yet the most beautiful, perfect being I’d ever seen. I knew then, without a doubt, this was an angel. He drew a large great sword that shone like mercury. As he did so, the Crimson Walker swung its blade. The celestial warrior blocked it with his. There was a swift flash of light, and they were gone. This proved too much for me, and I slumped into darkness.


9 thoughts on “Into The Realm: The Chronicles of Carter Blake (raw update)”

    1. Sweet. I’m glad you liked it. I hope you get time to read all of it. I only have the feedback of two of my best friends. I’m thinking no one would be interested. Yours is the first comment I’ve had on it. 😥


    1. If you’d like to start at the beginning, I’d start here. A bit of warning, I post in sequence of a little bit, then I start jumping around. Also, it is unedited professionally, and has errors in plot. There are also sections of other novels on here, too.


  1. Ok, I’m going out on a limb here, I’m assuming this is the beginning of the beginning of the story…

    Constructive Criticism:
    – I really didn’t catch the setting until the dialog opened, and then the dialog or the narrative seemed out of place.
    – The f-ing work just seems to throw me from medieval to modern. The same goes for the reference to mom
    – the boy – he said gravely. Can’t picture this easily, might try a description that shows better. I’ve been thinking like cartoons and anime to visualize facial expressions. Though, they are a bit different in writing.

    – “screamed Lady Orwen, with a wail of immeasurable grief that would haunt me to my dying day.”
    – A little early for grief, horror maybe

    -“Standing before him was Mordecai and Angriz.” – did the sword fly over them and hit the king or between them?

    – Mordecai is suddenly in punching range. The reappearing weapon (and the fact that it was thrown) kind of gave me at least a remote sense of distance. He is stretch-armstrong?
    – Apparently, because the other guy, Angriz, has to charge.

    -“I had no idea what.” dot, dot, dot something accomplished this. We can tell he doesn’t know what he is talking about. This sentence is redundant.

    – The whole naked angel summoning thing was really weird. People are dying and she is like “don’t look at me, I’m gettin’ naked.” I thought everyone with their eyes open was going to die at first. Then. the narrator takes his shirt off. I’m like, what is he doing!?!? Is this a dreaming going erotic fantasy? This part just didn’t seem to fit into the danger and tension.

    Things I loved:
    – The statue to behemoth – awesomeness!
    – Tension
    – The boy at the beginning

    I don’t know if this is a rough draft or been through an edit or two. The last thing I want to come off as is some kind of masochistic editor-jerk. I hope my comments/suggestions are alright by you. Just let me know if you would rather I shut up about it, and just hit the like button.

    Excellent ability to keep my interest. The beginning was a little rocky, but you did get into it pretty quickly and you did it well. I really liked it overall.


  2. No worries. I like an appreciate all comments. In my earlier reply, the blue word is the link to the beginning of the story. This part is in Chapter 2. This is the raw version. No edits, or anything. Thanks for reading & commenting. 😀


    1. Never saw the first post, until now. No problem. I kind of thought I remember starting reading on here last time. I figured I was in the same place.

      And I might make minor comments, but it doesn’t feel right to critique until you’ve done your own edit.

      Everybody writes different I guess. I tend to write a chapter, edit it, and then re-vamp anything that I might have changed. I would hate the thought of coming up on something that needs to be completely re-done or I want to do something different, and it completely change what comes next.

      Everybody writes different. Doesn’t matter, long as we are writing right?


      1. Indeed. However, feel free to critique away. Your comments may lead me down a path I hadn’t considered. Or, (hopefully) you will have an idea about something, and you’ll discover that it is answered later. 😀


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