Hold on to the string! came Thal’s frantic thought, and the severing of the string coupled with the shockwave of mental anger that crashed into Klaybear, hurled him back to the stasis chamber. He felt the heat of Gar’s anger singe his probing mind, the impact of the shockwave threatening to extinguish his traveling thoughts. Klaybear clung desperately to a single thought even as his mental fingers gripped the now unraveling string of compulsion: he had to prevent Klare’s mind from coming apart; she would never forgive him if he failed, and worse, he knew he could never forgive himself.
The ground of the chamber buckled beneath Klaybear, almost hurling him from his feet. The others looked shocked, holding onto both chairs and tables as the chamber shook violently. Klare and Tevvy were unconscious, slipping from chair and stool. Klaybear saw Thal reeling and felt himself doing a similar dance; the maghi lurched toward the slumping awemi reaching out with both physical and mental fingers.
“Hurry!” Thal shouted, putting his hands on Tevvy’s head, “the string is beginning to unravel!”
Klaybear imitated his action, plunging his mental eye into his wife’s mind, but what he saw stunned him: all around the edges of her mind, threads of the patterns were unraveling. He leapt to tie them off, working as quickly as he could, wishing with all his heart that it was not Klare’s mind he tried to hold together, and wishing that someone else were in his place. Her mind was terribly complex and subtle; his mental fingers worked furiously, trying to tie off the unraveling threads, but there were too many; he could see that he was losing the race, and he felt his physical eyes growing wet, felt the tears beginning to flow down his cheeks, felt a gnawing despair clawing away at his heart, felt a sob slip from his chest. His mental fingers slipped; he lost the threads, and before he could recapture them, that section of the pattern fell apart.
“No!” he heard himself exclaim as he fumbled to recapture and tie-off more threads, and then weaker, “no,” and he knew it was too late; he had failed: his wife’s mind was unraveling before his mental eyes, and he could not stop it. From somewhere in the distance, he heard echoing laughter. He felt himself collapsing into tears.
This must not be!
It was a new voice, heard with both his mind and his ears, a soft but piercing voice, and Klaybear felt his whole being awash in love. He saw a pair of mental hands recapture the threads he had lost, re-weave them into the pattern, and tie them off.
Elker seeks to destroy the plan, the new voice stated, he must not be allowed to proceed in this manner. She is vital to the success of the plan. My son, Klaybear knew the voice meant him, you must not give up! She must survive until her time, only then will the success of the plan be assured. We will help you undo what Elker has done to her. At these words, Klaybear saw another set of hands take hold of unraveling strings, re-weave them, and tie them off. Then he saw a third set of hands, then a fourth, and fifth, covering all sides of Klare’s mental space, and he knew that he was the sixth. His mental fingers returned to their work, and somehow, he re-wove a part of the patter and tied it off, moving on to another section. The voice continued to speak. Elker recognizes that if she is destroyed, you will not be able to succeed, the plan will fail, and all of creation will return to chaos and nonbeing.
A new voice spoke, a softer, although no less-powerful, more feminine compared to the first voice, which was more masculine. They must be protected from this kind of threat, for Elker or his servants will try again.
Yes, the first voice said, and we must restore the balance. My son, and Klaybear knew again that meant him, and all six pairs of hands continued to work. Your mother is right; you must be protected from further threats of this kind. This move by Elker was not unforeseen; the founders left in this place artifacts for each of my chosen. When we finish our work, although you barely have the strength to stand, you must see that each of you puts on a pair of the artifacts, most quickly with your mate and your mouse, for Elker will try to re-establish his compulsion upon them.
We will delay him when we finish and leave you here, the second voice said.
You must also ensure, the first voice continued, that your twin brother puts his on as soon as possible. Send the two from the younger order to him with it; your older brother must be trained by them, as he will soon lead them against the threat of Elker. Also, give him the message for your twin that he should leave Holvar and come to Shigmar, as you will need his skills, and he will soon be without work: Elker has ensured that he will lose his position in the younger order.
Which fulfills our plan, the second voice said.
“But we are outlaws,” Klaybear heard Marilee’s voice speak aloud, and he knew the others were hearing the voices he heard in his mind, “they will execute us as soon as we arrive.”
They will not, the first voice said.
I have already seen to it, father, a third, masculine voice said, similar to the first, the Fereghen and Feragwen will see to it.
Yes, said the first. Now we must restore the balance. Your work here is not yet complete, although two of you will depart almost immediately.
The mouse must work, the second voice said, and ferret out a secret threat.
Remember the artifacts, the first voice said with quiet power, and seek the second key in the tomb of the greatest of your order. But as you travel to the tomb you must flee all who would oppose you. This will rankle Karble’s heir, but none of you must fight anyone before entering the tomb. To do so will cause you to fail, and all of creation return to chaos and non-existence. Karble’s heir must heal them both before sending those of the younger order back to Holvar. Then the mouse must do his work; open the door and allow him to leave, and your beloved to heal.
Klaybear saw that the pattern of Klare’s mind had been re-woven, although subtly different; he could see the mark of evil still woven into her mind, but the re-weaving had changed it, and he could see that it would continue to change. He could not tell what it would become, but he knew, even as he saw each pair of hands finish and disappear, it would not be the same. He also knew, that, in time, all of their marks could be changed to become an older, more powerful symbol.
Remember, said the voice as the last pair of hands began to fade, artifacts, healing, Holvar, door, mouse. The hands were gone; the voices were gone; Klare’s mind restored.
Klaybear sighed and sank against Klare’s chair; she was slumped onto the table. He saw Thal leaning against Tevvy’s chair; the awemi was also slumped onto the table. Sweat glistened on the maghi’s face, and he felt his own face slick with sweat. He saw that the others, although their eyes were bright, looked astonished by what they had witnessed. His eyes were drawn beyond the kortexi to a shelf behind him; white light emanated from an ornately carved chest, with the same hand-shaped indentation carved into its lid.
“Blakstar,” Klaybear said weakly, “would you get the glowing chest on the shelf behind you and bring it to the table. I believe it contains the artifacts we all need to wear.”
Blakstar did not move; he seemed stunned. “That was,” he stammered, “was . . . was . . . the . . . One!”
Klaybear nodded once, trying not to think about what the kortexi said. “The chest, please.”
“That . . . was . . . ,” Blakstar continued to stammer, “the same voice . . . that . . . that . . . spoke to me . . . I saw his face in the Mountain.”
Delgart stood and went to the shelf, taking down the chest and carrying it back to the table. “There is an inscription on the lid,” he noted, looking up at the others.
Thal moved slowly to the head of the table next to Delgart and ran his finger over the inscription. “It reads,” he said after a moment, “verghrenum: for the chosen and their mates,” and he went on, anticipating the next question, “the word, verghrenum, means, basically, ‘thought-protector,’ so they are meant to protect our minds from Gar and his minions.”
“This must be another of the doors,” Delgart said and placed his right hand into the indentation, the lock clicked, t
hen he opened the chest. “There are several pairs of bracers in here,” he noted, “in green and brown leather with the crown symbol,” he added, pulling out a pair and handing them to Marilee, who, with Klaybear, had come to stand beside Delgart. “By their size,” Delgart noted, “these must be yours, so one pair of these must be mine.” He pulled out two larger pairs that were the same size; the only difference between them that Klaybear could see, was that the crown symbol was larger on one pair than on the other pair. He also noticed that the pair with the smaller crown had the head of an aperu carved beneath the crown on each bracer. Delgart first tried the pair with the smaller crown, but they would not slide onto his wrists, so he took the pair with the larger crown symbol, which slipped easily onto his wrists, and Klaybear noticed that his older brother flushed slightly as he pulled them onto his wrists; Marilee reached out and tightened and tied the laces of both, then held out her arms, so that he could do the same for her. Delgart’s cheeks colored brightly when he saw both Klaybear and Marilee looking at the large crown symbols on his wrists, so he turned back to the chest. He removed a pair of white leather and silver bracers, and Klaybear saw that they were embossed with the Eye of Melbarth; Delgart handed them to Thal.
“These must be yours,” Delgart said, trying to hide his embarrassment by turning quickly back to the chest.
Thal slipped them over his hands; Marilee helped him tighten and tie the laces.
“There is another, even smaller, pair of bracers,” Delgart said, “smaller and darker; the light seems to fall into this pair.” He handed them to Marilee. “They must be Tevvy’s.”
Thal helped Marilee strap the bracers onto the awemi’s wrists; each was embossed in the shape of the symbol on his stool.
“There is another pair,” Delgart said, taking a pair of green bracers embossed with a symbol shaped like a hand. He handed them to his brother, who slid them onto his wrists; he held out his arms while Thal and Marilee tightened and tied the laces.
“These must be for Klare,” Delgart said, taking a pair of wide, golden-yellow bracelets from the chest, handing them to his brother. Klaybear clasped them onto each of his wife’s wrists.
“And these,” Delgart said, holding up a pair of white and gold studded leather bracers, embossed with a symbol in the shape of a water vessel, “must be Blakstar’s.” He turned to the kortexi, who still sat with his head bowed. They could see tears dripping from the corners of his eyes. Delgart slipped one of them onto Blakstar’s wrist and passed the second to Marilee, who had come back around the table; she slid it on, and both verghrenum were tied into place.
This seemed to bring the kortexi out of himself; he looked up at the others. “I am unworthy to receive such a visit.”
Thal snorted. “If that were true,” he said, “you would be dead, since no one who is unworthy can stand in the presence of the One.”
“That is true,” Klaybear said, “and we need you to do the next two parts of our instructions: you need to heal Tevvy and Klare.”
“But you are . . . ,” Blakstar started to say but stopped, realizing what he had to do. He stood, wiped his eyes, and looked at the others. “I apologize for my behavior; I am Sir Karble reborn, and should not behave this way.”
Thal started to laugh, but Klaybear dug an elbow into his ribs, and he started to cough instead.
“You have not behaved badly,” Delgart said, “there is no need to apologize.”
“But I . . . ,” the kortexi began.
Delgart stopped him. “There is no need,” he said again.
Blakstar nodded, turned, moved around the table. He took the special flask from his belt and unstoppered it as he approached Tevvy. “Hold up his head,” he said. Thal was closest, although he still coughed slightly, holding up the awemi’s head. Blakstar opened Tevvy’s mouth and poured some of the Waters of Life in, then held his mouth closed.
Tevvy swallowed, his eyes opened suddenly, and he tried to rise. “There is work I must do!” he exclaimed, struggling to get to his feet.
Blakstar put a hand on his shoulder, and speaking in a strong, calm voice, said, “Peace, my friend. The Waters of Life are potent; rest a moment before you leave to do your work.”
Tevvy smiled at the kortexi; Blakstar could not resist smiling in return. The kortexi moved to Klare.
“I think we should put her to sleep,” Blakstar said to Klaybear, “as her hurts were greater than his.”
“I had that thought,” Klaybear agreed. He had moved his chair closer to hers and now cradled her head in his arms.
Blakstar carefully opened Klare’s mouth, pouring in some of the Waters; he closed her mouth while Klaybear stroked her neck. She swallowed, her eyes began to flutter, and the kortexi put his free hand on her shoulder, whispering the ritual words: “Peace, the Waters of Life are potent.”
Klaybear touched her forehead and spoke the word, “supno,” sending her into a dreamless slumber. “We should make a place to lay her down,” he said, looking around.
Delgart looked around the chamber; they had been so busy with other things that no one had taken the opportunity to examine this place. “There are doors on either end of the room,” he said, standing and moving to the door nearest. Klaybear heard a door open. “There are beds in here,” Delgart said.
Klaybear stood with Blakstar’s help, picking up his wife and carrying her into the side room. Delgart helped him place her on the bed and remove the chain mail and belt she wore. Klaybear carefully covered her with a blanket and slipped quietly from the room. He left the door ajar, then returned to where the others waited.
“Now,” Klaybear said, “Blakstar needs to send Delgart and Marilee to Holvar with Rokwolf’s verghrenum.”
Blakstar nodded.
“Do you know where to send them?” Klaybear asked.
Blakstar nodded again. “I think so,” he said, “at least, there is an image in my mind, that was not there before, of where I need to send them.” He took out his sword and prepared to open a door.
Delgart went to the table and picked up the verghrenum with the crown symbol, closing the lid of the chest; he turned and swiftly embraced his brother. “Be well, my brother.”
“And you,” Klaybear replied.
“And say goodbye to my sister, for me,” he added, a grin twisting his damaged face.
Klaybear smiled. “I will.”
The kortexi drew a circle on the floor, the pommel stone glowing brightly, and the line burned with golden fire, then he lifted the sword point, drawing a gray, shimmering arch in the air, touching the sword’s point to the circle’s other side. The gray, shimmering arch winked on, opening into a small room with a bed and desk, at which a wethi, who looked more like Delgart than Klaybear, sat writing. He looked up in time to see Marilee, followed by Delgart, step through the arch.
“You are well!” he exclaimed as he stood, moving forward to embrace Marilee.
Just before the kortexi lifted his sword, they saw Rokwolf look at Delgart, saw the recognition blooming on his face, and Klaybear said, “Hail Rokwolf! Brother! Chosen of the One!”
Rokwolf looked into the arch and saw Klaybear. “How?” he asked, but at the moment he spoke his question, the kortexi lifted his sword, the arch winked out, and Blakstar slumped onto the floor.
“Open the other bedroom door, Tevvy,” Klaybear said, as he and Thal went forward to lift Blakstar to his feet. They supported him on either side as he stumbled toward the door and a bed to rest on. He slid onto the bed; Klaybear and Thal helped him remove his belt, boots, and mail shirt, slipping his sword back into its scabbard.
“Now do you trust me?” Tevvy asked from the door.
Blakstar shrugged and went limp, his breathing becoming slow and even.
“Well,” Tevvy said, half-grinning, “I guess that will do for now.” He closed the door after the others left the room. “I guess it’s time for me to go to work,” he said. “But I need a coil of rope.”
Klaybear nodded. “And for us to
open the door, as we were instructed,” he said. He looked over to the shelf where the chest had been. “Check the shelf,” he pointed.
Tevvy moved around the table to the shelf, bent down, and pulled a coil of rope off the bottom shelf. He held it up for the others to see, smiling. “They did think of everything.”
Klaybear smiled. They moved toward the doorway out of the chamber.
“You need to be extra-careful,” Thal said, “for we have learned that we are all part of some larger plan. I’m certain that Gar has shared your description with his minions here in Shigmar, so do not think that you will not be recognized.”
Tevvy nodded. “I’m always careful,” he said and looked up. “Didn’t I manage to get you out of the school dungeon? This is easy by comparison.” He smiled mischievously. “Who is Elker?” he asked, suddenly thoughtful.
Klaybear shook his head. “I do not know.”
“You do,” Thal said, as they stopped in front of the door, “that was Gar’s name originally, before he was cast into the underworld, where he shortened it to ‘Gar.’”
“I never before made that connection,” Klaybear noted.
“Which brings up another thing,” Thal began, “what will happen when we open this door?”
“Wait a minute,” Tevvy said, “if time out there has slowed, how come we saw your brother moving? How were Delgart and Marilee able to move into his room?”
Klaybear gasped. “You are right!” he exclaimed. “When we went, mentally, to where Gar was, we found him frozen in time, as he should have been, but when we sent Delgart and Marilee to Rokwolf’s room in Holvar, they were able to enter physically into a space outside of this chamber. Shouldn’t they also have been frozen in time, trapped in the act of entering Rokwolf’s room?”
The Redemption, Volume 1 Page 29
