The Broken Realm

Chapter 5

KELTHAS

Black clouds hid the stars and moon from their sight. Cloaked in such darkness, they rode in silence until Kelthas spotted a cluster of torches in the distance. Familiar faces lit by torchlight soon came into view. Raynar. Feloreus. Rodrick. Violet. All were members of Watchguard. Their faces were grim and sombre. Bryan tried to edge Warmonger closer but his steed was skittish. Frightened mayhaps by something in the wind, Kelthas reasoned.

"So what is it you so badly want me to see?" asked the mage, dismounting from Warmonger. Curiosity tugged at his mind like the receding tide on a full moon. What could have unsettled the brave Watchguard so?

"Over there, by the roadside." Violet pointed at an odd misshapen form. Short dark hair, with striking violet eyes... He could see why she was named as such. The only female member of the Watchguard. Likely the most skilled with a blade from the tales Bryan told on the journey. She was clad in a charcoal grey doublet with matching breeches and high leather boots. Her black cloak was fastened at the shoulder by a silver clasp, engraved with twin swords over a coin. Hanging on her belt was a sword, thin, elegant and deadly.

Kelthas grabbed a torch from Raynar, a burly man with a heavy moustache. He was battle ready, clad in mail and leather with a cloak of sunset red. On his chest, he wore the insignia of the Watchguard in bronze. Must be tiresome if he needs the privy, the mage found himself thinking.

He peered at the object under the dancing torchlight. "My... this is unsettling," remarked Kelthas. He had assumed it was a large rock. Or a fallen tree for that matter. Never would he imagine it was... this.

"Well, say something!" Rodrick lost his patience. "Are there more of them? Should we break camp and ride for Windred?" They could be in danger and yet, their mage stood stupefied apparently.

The half-eaten corpse was sprawled in the undergrowth that was so common to Blackwood. It had been torn at by a pack of wolves or something of the like, burning a visceral image into his eyes. And yet, Kelthas could not tear his eyes away. He had only ever seen them in tomes. He raised a hand before Rodrick could speak further. "Ogres are generally territorial and aggressive so this should be the only one around for miles," explained the mage. "Unless it has a mate, there should be no further cause for concern."

Raynar snorted in derision. "No further cause for concern you say? What about the things that did this to an ogre? It seems to me, that could be a huge cause for concern."

"Was it not done by wolves? I see plenty of teeth marks on the corpse," Kelthas pointed out. He plucked a tooth from the dead ogre and examined it. "This looks to be goblin teeth marks. See these nasty little serrated edges? Perfect for sawing through flesh and carrion. Fascinating indeed."

"Goblins and wolves could not have done this alone. If we had thirty bronze men from Watchguard, perhaps we might have been able to take down a monster like this. We've done it before. Lost four men, with twice as many wounded." Rodrick's face was subdued.

Unless the beast died of old age, we've seen everything there is to see... Unless... He glanced at the corpse once more. The body laid face flat on the ground. "Perhaps Raynar and Feloreus could assist me in shifting its head? That may shed some clarity into its cause of death."

Feloreus groaned. "When I joined the Watchguard, I didn't expect this." He was a man in his twenties, with vivid green eyes and hair of pale white gold. He was clad in ringmail of steel and silver, a bronze Watchguard insignia woven into the fabric of his black cloak.

"Well let's get to it then." The Watchguard men grunted with exertion as they slowly shifted the ugly head to the side.

"By the gods..."