The Redemption, Volume 1

by Clyde B Northrup

  “Rokwolf?” Klaybear replied, “what are you doing here?” They all stepped off the telepad to make way for Myron’s return.

  “I’ve been sent to aid you,” Rokwolf replied, and Klaybear noticed the hint of both sadness and bitterness in his twin’s voice. Klaybear stepped toward the voice in the darkness, opening his arms to embrace his twin brother.

  “What has happened?” Klaybear asked in twin, their private language.

  “I lost my command,” Rokwolf replied in the same language.

  Klare interrupted their embrace, pushing her husband back so that she could embrace her brother-in-law. “Klaybear,” she said, “you two are doing it again.”

  Rokwolf held Klare for a moment, then apologized. “Sorry, sister,” he said, “it is an old habit, not easily broken.”

  Even in the darkness, Klaybear could see the lines at the corners of his eyes, and the dark circles under his eyes. “What has happened?” she whispered.

  “I was tricked by Xythrax,” he said, sadly, “and so left my assigned area. I was told that it led to an important young kortexi being captured and harmed by Xythrax.”

  Klaybear exchanged a look with Klare. Klaybear turned to the others. “Let me introduce the rest of my companions,” he began, but Rokwolf interrupted him.

  “The chosen?” he asked.

  Klaybear nodded once. “This is Thalamar, son of Kalamar, white maghi,” he pointed to Thal.

  Thal took Rokwolf’s hand and shook it. “Just Thal,” he noted.

  “This is Telvor, son of Meekor,” he pointed to the awemi, “a scout.”

  Rokwolf smiled. “Yes, I know him,” Rokwolf noted.

  Tevvy nodded. “It has been, what, a year?”

  “Yes,” Rokwolf replied. “And you have graduated from your father’s school, with honors, I heard.”

  Tevvy smiled. “Oh that, well I was the first to graduate, and we both received honors.” He turned to Klaybear. “I spent a year training with the seklesem; it was your brother who trained me.”

  “And finally,” Klaybear pointed to Blakstar, “this is Sir Blakstar eli kerdu ghebi, bearer of the Waters of Life, Sir Karble reborn.”

  Rokwolf took Blakstar’s hand.

  “Please,” Blakstar said, “just Blakstar; I’m not used to the rest of it.”

  Rokwolf smiled in response to the kortexi’s discomfort. “I look forward to practicing swordplay with you; I understand that the style of the kortexem is different from our own.”

  Blakstar nodded. “Yes, I would like to learn your style. Had I not been accepted into kortexi training, I would have come to Holvar and trained as seklesi.” Blakstar turned away, hearing the whinny of his horse and going to check on him.

  A light flashed behind them, announcing the return of the Headmaster. In the flash of white light, Klaybear saw his twin’s face clearly for the first time; he staggered back, pain burning his forehead and hand, as he was hurled into the gyre of his broken vision.

  Klare grabbed his arm; Rokwolf saw him stagger, so grabbed his other side. The mark on his forehead pulsed with angry red light.

  “What is wrong?” he asked Klare.

  “This happens each time he sees one of us for the first time,” Klare said, “since his trip to the sacred glade.”

  “That mark on his forehead,” Rokwolf said, “it is the mark of Gar.”

  “Yes,” Myron said, stepping up beside them, “and he, along with the rest of the chosen, but for you, Tevvy, and Klare, were imprisoned and placed under the sentence of death. The three of you escaped only because you were not there, but each of you has a similar mark, although you three are like Thal: the mark is inscribed in the patterns of your minds.” He turned and looked at Thal. “Help her with Klaybear,” he said, “he should come out of it in a moment.” He took Rokwolf by the arm and led him off to one side. “Do not chastise yourself for what happened to Sir Blakstar,” he said in a quiet voice, taking and holding Rokwolf’s eye. “You are not in any way responsible. Had you not been pulled out of position by Xythrax, both of you would have been killed, and the kortexi would have been damaged anyway. Also, he does not remember what actually happened to him, so be careful what you say. You were, like Klare and Tevvy, under a compulsion put in place and controlled by Gar; that is why you fainted when you put on the verghrenum. The bracers saved your mind by putting you into a kind of stasis. Fereghen Wothgart was informed of this, and so he sent you straight to me, who could repair the damage, with the help of several others.”

  “How was this possible?” Rokwolf said. “I’ve never seen Gar.”

  “I do not know,” Myron replied. “Listen to me carefully; there is little time. You have to lead the others away from Shigmar without the army on the other side of this hill knowing they have left.”

  “Where are we going?” Rokwolf asked.

  “North to Kalbant, I think,” Myron replied. “They now know where. One final thing: do not engage in any fighting. If it becomes a choice between fight and flight, choose flight, even if it takes you far out of the way. I’m sure they have been given this warning, but it also shows up in the records kept by the headmasters of the school. To retrieve the second key, they must be completely inexperienced, or they will not succeed. This is especially important with Sir Blakstar: he will want to fight but you must prevent him, even if you have to knock him out or put him to sleep. They can give you the rest of the story as you travel.”

  Tevvy stepped up and touched Myron’s sleeve. “Headmaster,” he whispered, “there is something else you must know. I was captured by a group of Gar’s soldiers inside the walls of the city. They are hiding in the northeast quarter of the city, just north of the sewer grate. They have a cache of weapons; I think they mean to open the gate and let the attackers in.”

  “I’ll let Master Ghreis know,” Myron replied, then turned back to Rokwolf. “There is a monument in the central square of Kalbant; I’d check there first.”

  Rokwolf nodded and turned to Klare. “How is he?”

  “Coming around,” Klare replied.

  “Can he ride?” Rokwolf asked.

  “By the time we all get ready to leave, yes,” Klare said.

  “Then let’s go while we still have some darkness,” Rokwolf said.

  Chapter 5

  Secretly smuggled out of Shigmar

  the CHOSEN trail led north

  to the home of the first headmaster

  Shigmar, founder of great renown

  seeking the powerful artifact

  hidden in the first kailu’s tomb. . . .

  from ‘The Great Year,’ a song cycle by Sir Kovar, written atno 3553

  Shigmar, city of the kailum, lay nestled in a valley in the central part of the Monti-stethreu, or “Mountains of the Fallen Star.” Through this valley wound the Krystal River, named after both the lake which was its source, and the clear, pure water; the river ran from north to south through the valley. The city of Shigmar covered both banks of the river, which flowed into the central market, and there was diverted into the caverns beneath the city where the river became part of the city’s sewer system. The city sat at the southernmost point of the valley, with the school of the kailum perched atop the cliff-edge of the valley, just above the point where the river issued from the caverns beneath the city, falling five-hundred feet, in several stages, to the plateau below. The valley north of the city, on either side of the river, was covered with lush farmlands, which supplied most of the food for the city. The land closest to the river was the most fertile, covered with orchards and fields of vegetables; the rolling hills bordering the valley’s bottomland were sown with grains, and on the lower slopes of the mountains, livestock roamed where ash and birch grew in abundance. From its establishment, the people of the valley had been completely self-sufficient, and trade with other cities, beyond the villages and farmers living along the Krystal River, had not been established until the beginning of the second millennia, atno 1007, when the mountain trail leading to th
e valley had been expanded into a road over which wagons could pass. Once the wagons had begun to arrive, the city expanded from being the simple home of the school for kailum to a bustling center of trade.

  Like all cities of the realm, Shigmar was surrounded by a stone wall with a single gate, a gate bridging the river, which had been dammed to create a small lake that helped to protect the city. The gate usually remained open while the sun was up, but on this day, when the sun rose, the gates did not open; the city guard manned all fortifications in and around the gate, refusing to let anyone pass. Word had gone around the city that the vanguard of an unfriendly army occupied an area to the northwest behind the first hill, and so out of sight of the walls. A detachment of horsed guards had reportedly passed through the gates in the time just before dawn, sent to scout out enemy movements. Many kailum had gone with them, including, if the rumors were true, Headmaster Myron himself. This rumor did little to calm the fears of many of the city’s inhabitants, since all of them had been awakened several hours before dawn by an explosion that rocked the city, coming from the eastern quarter, and rumor had it that one of the nicer inns there had been destroyed by the blast, and all who were staying there killed. As the sun rose, the soldiers manning the walls could see smoke rising beyond the first hill northwest of the city, west of the river. On the east side of the first hill northeast of the city, a small group of riders stood holding their mounts, waiting for the sixth and smallest member of their party to return.

  When Klaybear finished telling Rokwolf what had happened since they had last spoken, the seklesi stood for a time in thoughtful silence before speaking. “All that has happened over the past few days,” Rokwolf finally said, breaking his silence, “seems to be a part of some larger plan of Gar’s that he prepared long before, especially the marking of some of us, mentally.”

  They stood together holding the reins of their horses, with Thal holding Blakstar’s mount along with his own, while Rokwolf held the reins of Tevvy’s smaller pony along with his own. The kortexi moved between watching the shadows under the trees to the north, the way Tevvy had gone a quarter of an hour before, and moving to the west, where he could just see the enemy vanguard across the river.

  Thal nodded. “I think you must refer particularly to the alterations made to the patterns of my mind,” he noted.

  “Yes, partially,” Rokwolf replied, “but I was thinking more along the lines of plans put into place in the days of the founders.” He turned to his twin. “The disrupting of your vision, however, this seems out of place, as if it were not meant to be. You both have told me that Headmaster Myron and Hierarch Kalamar indicated that there was something wrong.”

  “Not in so many words,” Thal noted, “but there was something odd about my master’s behavior.”

  “What?” Rokwolf asked.

  “Before that moment,” Thal said, “if I started to lose control of an orthek, as it seemed was happening in this case, he would have stopped the orthek and asked me to clear my mind and begin again. However, in that moment, he was either so surprised by what happened that he did not act, or something prevented him from acting.”

  “My master always spoke of your father,” Klaybear noted, “as the most powerful white maghi living. Who, or what, could have prevented him from stopping the orthek?”

  “Only two possible beings come to mind,” Thal replied. “Gar, which would lend support to what Rokwolf is thinking, but I did not think he could approach our tower, for the teka fences protecting it, especially without first breaking those barriers, which would have alerted us to his presence. The only other possibility is the One, which may indicate that it was intended, but why would he ‘muddle’ my vision, or yours?” he finished looking from one twin to the other.

  Blakstar moved toward the west, squatting behind a rock where he could see across the river.

  “I’m not sure I understand the difference between your visions,” Rokwolf went on, “the orthek you used, Thal, sounds similar to ortheks used by the other maghi orders, which only reveal flashes of the future, just images.”

  “The vukeetu,” Thal noted, “used by all maghem, as you said, give the maghi glimpses of future events in the maghi’s life. These glimpses help to shape his studies, help him to prepare for the future, help him to know what to do, generally. Anyone who tries to wrest specifics from them deserves everything bad that happens to him,” Thal smiled wryly.

  A flicker of anger filled Rokwolf, but he quickly suppressed it. He turned to his twin. Blakstar looked toward the north, still watching for the awemi as he kept an eye on the enemy vanguard.

  “With ours,” Klaybear began, “we, similarly, see glimpses of our own futures, usually revolving around our life’s purpose: what our role is in the plan of the One. My master saw images that led him to believe he was to search out the chosen. He spent many years in fruitless searching before he realized that what he was meant to do was to train two of the chosen, us,” he added, stumbling over the word and indicating Klare and himself, “and since he knew from the prophecy that two of us would be kailum, he reckoned he would directly train one and would influence the second. So he devoted his life to teaching, and he eventually became Headmaster, so was in a very good position to choose me as his apprentice, while his best friend, Master Avril, became master of healing and took Klare as his apprentice.”

  Rokwolf’s brow wrinkled. “I still don’t see that they are all that different, since the flashes of the future can be misinterpreted, as they come simply as images.”

  “It is not that they are different,” Thal put in, “but that in my case, the images were interrupted from outside, until the final image I saw was your older brother, wounded and about to be attacked by ghelem. From what your twin brother has told us, his was more than interrupted; he saw alternate outcomes for each image of the future, almost as if two people outside of him were controlling what he saw . . . ,” Thal’s voice trailed off, the maghi’s thought turning inward.

  Klaybear picked it up. “With mine, though, the images were smashed together, melting into each other, so that I cannot tell where one ends and another begins. Even now, if I think about any of you too closely, the images associated begin to resurface and take control of my mind,” he finished, turning his eyes away and shaking his head. “And the vision should not be able to do that, meaning, usurp control of the individual’s mind.”

  “You better come and see this,” Blakstar hissed, waving to them.

  Klaybear gave his reins to Klare; Rokwolf wrapped the reins he held around a low branch. They both moved carefully over to where Blakstar squatted, joining him. The kortexi pointed to the other side of the river. A gray, shimmering arch, wide enough for five large men walking abreast, was clearly visible. First through the arch were a dozen black maghem, followed by as many red kailum, who took up positions around the grey arch and began weaving ortheks. A red dome of force blossomed to life, surrounding and covering the arch. Almost before the dome was in place, lines of ghelem and purem came through the arch, moving in all directions to form ranks around the arch.

  Klaybear looked back to where Klare and Thal stood. “You better come and see,” he said.

  “What?” Klare asked.

  “The rest of the army,” Klaybear said, “coming through a doorway like Blakstar can open with his sword.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Thal said, wrapping his reins around a low branch and joining the others, “especially considering the state in which we left his mind after severing those powerlinks. I’m surprised that the morgle who has Melbarth’s rod could have repaired his mind so quickly and opened another archway.”

  Now that the arch was surrounded by ranks of ghelem and purem, other creatures began to emerge: tall blue-skinned wedaterem whipped by their puram masters, purgle, servants of Nekerp, the Lord of Death, leading ranks of nekerpum, raised from graves across the realm, a handful of huge megatrem, wielding black and smoking swords, burning whatever they touched, several, n
early as large, krugle carrying giant hammers, and, just as Thal and Klare came up behind the others, a red aperu flew out of the arch, glided in a circle over the armies below, then landed on the hilltop straight across the river from them. Rokwolf pulled them all back away from the stone, sending both Thal and Klare tumbling.

  “Hey!” Klare exclaimed, “be careful!”

  “Quiet!” Rokwolf hissed through clenched teeth. “We have to get out of here before that beast starts looking around: the aperu have the eyes of eagles and could have seen us watching!” He crawled back to the horses, grabbing the reins he had wrapped around a branch. The others followed him, with Klare brushing grass off her robes and looking daggers at her brother-in-law. They heard the aperu roar, sounding like a furnace with too much fuel in it. Rokwolf began to lead his horse and Tevvy’s pony down the hill; the others retrieved their own reins and followed.

  Blakstar caught up with Rokwolf. “What about the awemi?”

  “He should be on his way back by now,” Rokwolf replied, “so we should meet him shortly. We can wait at the bottom of this hill for him.”

  “I do not trust him,” the kortexi said.

  Rokwolf resisted the urge to glare at Blakstar. “He comes from a good family,” Rokwolf replied, “and an academy commissioned by the Fereghen, himself.”

  “He admitted that he was a thief,” Blakstar added.

  “His profession requires that he sometimes do things you kortexem would find offensive,” Rokwolf said. “My advice to you, and I’m sure Headmaster Myron would agree, is that in the interest of keeping all of us alive, you should ignore those behaviors you find offensive, and focus on those that are helpful to our cause.”

  “How can I do that?” Blakstar protested. “Whenever I look at him, I see a little thief, watching furtively for a chance to pick someone’s pockets.”

  Rokwolf groaned inside. “Look,” Rokwolf began, “I know it is not easy to accept, but from what the prophecy says, he is an equally valuable member of our group, of those chosen of the One,” he laid careful emphasis on those words, “to end Gar’s rule. We each have a role to play in that, and right now, your role is to bring up the rear, listen for sounds of pursuit, and if you hear any, urge us to greater speed. The Headmaster was very specific in his orders to me: I am here to see that the three key-holders, you,” he pointed at Blakstar, “my brother, and Master Thalamar, make it into Shigmar’s tomb without stopping to fight anyone, no matter what the provocation, and most especially,” he stabbed a finger at Blakstar, “you. If I have to hit you over the head with a rock and tie you to your horse in order to fulfill those orders, I will.”