The Redemption, Volume 1

by Clyde B Northrup

  “You should speak to Thal, or my twin,” Rokwolf said, “since they both have a better understanding of these keys, as they have been called, but the sense I have gotten from both of them is that neither Shigmar, nor Melbarth, were sure about what the staff would do. Perhaps they believed that only our enemies would be destroyed by the staff.”

  Lidelle was shaking his head.

  “There is something else that happened,” Blakstar said, “that we have not spoken about: we were captured by a company of purem,” he went on, and explained to them what had happened and how they had been released by the vedem and the enigmatic warning of Neflo.

  “The vedem?” Lidelle said, looking surprised. “Why would they set you free, tell you not to use the staff, then clear your way so that you could use it? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “We were also surprised by their behavior,” Blakstar noted.

  Marilee and the rest of her squad walked up at that point. “Still blocked,” she said. “And this one?”

  “It is open,” Tevvy said, “and it sounded like no one was moving around.”

  Marilee turned to Reena. “Go ahead, and if the way is clear, open the grate and we will all follow.”

  Reena nodded and climbed the ladder. “All clear,” her voice whispered, and they heard the grate being opened.

  “Let’s go,” Marilee said.

  Tevvy went up next, followed by Marilee and her squad; Blakstar and Rokwolf climbed up last. The air in this part of the city was nearly as dusty as the air below, and all was as silent. They could see the limit of the wave by the houses that had fallen.

  Rokwolf touched Tevvy’s shoulder. “We should go check my brother’s house,” he said.

  Marilee looked around. “We’ll split into threes, and begin searching the city for survivors, heading toward the school.”

  The others nodded, split up, and then began to move in all directions, with Rokwolf, Tevvy, and Blakstar moving toward Klaybear and Klare’s house. The silence surrounding them did not give them any hope that they would find anyone alive.

  The three chosen–Tevvy, Rokwolf, and Blakstar–spent the morning moving Klaybear and Klare’s personal items from their small home into their sanctuary beneath the city. Rokwolf reckoned that looters would probably arrive later in the day to ransack what remained of the city of the kailum. Rokwolf gathered and bundled their possessions, using every blanket, sheet, or tablecloth he could find, and Tevvy carried the bundles, using a wheelbarrow he found by the side of a neighbor’s house, to the sewer grate, where the kortexi waited to catch, or untie them as Tevvy lowered the more breakable bundles on a rope.

  “Blakstar,” Tevvy said, “my pony is small enough to navigate the passages, you might bring her back with you, so you can haul more bundles each trip.”

  The kortexi nodded but said nothing, picking up the bundles the awemi had lowered to him and moving out of sight.

  Tevvy sighed and shook his head, grabbing the handles of the barrow, wheeling it back. Several trips later, a trickle of water came running down the street from the north. Rokwolf looked at the water for a moment, after dropping another bundle into Tevvy’s borrowed barrow, and shook his head.

  “We don’t have much time,” Rokwolf noted, eyeing the water.

  “It’s just a little water,” Tevvy replied.

  “It won’t be for long,” Rokwolf said. “Soon, this whole area will be covered with water, and I suspect that we will no longer be able to enter the sewers.” Tevvy looked slightly puzzled, so Rokwolf went on. “You recall that there was no water flowing through the sewers?”

  Tevvy nodded.

  “I think that most of the city has collapsed, blocking the river,” Rokwolf added. “That water is still flowing down from the lake and must go somewhere. This is the lowest part of the city, so it will flow into this quarter, leak down into the sewers, and probably fill this whole section of the city, at least until the back wall is washed out.”

  After a few more trips, Tevvy saw that Rokwolf was right, and that if they did not climb down into the sewers soon, they would not be able to, as the water had started to flow down the grate. Blakstar and Tevvy’s pony were ankle deep when Tevvy and Rokwolf returned with the last load, Rokwolf pushing the barrow with the awemi riding on top. Marilee and her squad returned at that point, and all were soaked by the time they were back in the sewers.

  “Quickly now,” Marilee said, “we have to get back to the bridge and the shelf outside before either is washed out.”

  Delgart looked a question at Marilee, who nodded once. “We’ll meet you back at our camp outside, after we’ve checked on Klaybear and Klare,” she told Rellik, her second.

  “We’ll come down with Tevvy, Thal, and Blakstar when they are ready to leave,” Delgart noted. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

  Rellik nodded and led the squad east through ankle-deep water; the others, leading the pony, moved down the passage then turned north and entered their sanctuary. Water was beginning to flow down this passage also. They entered the main room and removed the bundles from the pony; Tevvy led her back into the stable area.

  “Did you get it all?” Thal asked, looking up from the scroll he read.

  “Most of it,” Rokwolf said. “Whatever is left will soon be under water, since that section of the city is beginning to flood.”

  “Which matches the state of the north, northwest, and west quarters of the city,” Delgart noted, pulling out and sitting in his chair at the head of the table.

  “Any survivors?” Rokwolf asked.

  Delgart nodded. “They have mostly hidden themselves in what remains of the school, but they are traumatized, none of them willing to speak to us, or even allow us to come near them.” He sighed and looked at Thal. “I thought you said that the staff only took life?”

  Thal nodded. “That is what we were led to understand.”

  “It did something to all the buildings it passed through,” Delgart said, “the first one we found still standing, we tried to enter, looking for survivors, but as soon as we touched the door to open it, the whole building crumbled, almost burying Reena, who touched the door. The parts of the city we explored were nearly all rubble. I’d guess that some of the survivors died while trying to enter those buildings, which is probably why we found so few.”

  Thal tapped his chin thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “I wonder,” he said, almost to himself.

  “What?” Delgart asked.

  “Well, breath-giver has this terrible power we used to take life,” Thal went on, “and we saw the essences of the people and creatures drawn from their bodies by the destructive wave and sucked into the staff. I wonder if that means that stone, and wood, have a life force. And that the taking of that life force, although perhaps minuscule compared to, say, one of us, would weaken both stone and wood to the point that the entire city crumbled.”

  “That is what we saw,” Delgart noted. “The front of the school had fallen into rubble, as if some giant creature had cut through the front part, leaving the back part still whole, although much of it remains without support, and so is unsafe to enter.” He thought for a moment. “Not only that, but it also looks like the rubble will soon turn to dust. I was with the group who traveled all the way to the north side of the city. Most of it is flooded, or flooding, but the area beyond the walls has turned into a dust bowl, except for the top of the hill where you must have used the staff: there is a small green circle surrounded by sand and dust.”

  Thal nodded. “That circle was about twenty yards across.”

  They fell silent for a time, the thoughts of each turning inward. Delgart spoke first.

  “How are Klaybear and Klare?” Delgart asked. “Any change?”

  Thal shook his head. “They both still seem troubled, but neither one has awakened.”

  Blakstar stood. “I will try to give them some of the Waters, and then we should be on our way.”

  “Pay attention to your verghrenum at sunset ea
ch day,” Tevvy said to Thal and Rokwolf, “if I have anything to report, I’ll let you know at that time and you can then contact me using the sword or staff.”

  “Contact us,” Delgart said, “the same way, so we know what you are doing, what you have found,” he looked toward the room where Klaybear and Klare lay, “and the state of my brother and sister-in-law.”

  “Yes,” Marilee added, “I do not know where we will be sent next. The Feragwen rules now, and we need a new potikoro.” She glanced slyly toward Delgart. “There is some talk among the ranks that Delgart would make an excellent potikoro.”

  Delgart laughed. “Not likely,” he said between laughs, “I don’t have enough training.”

  “You’re a natural,” Marilee added, smiling widely at him. “You’ll be fine,” she added, patting him fondly on the arm.

  Tevvy had looked around just in time to see a spasm of anger cross Rokwolf’s face, quickly controlled.

  “I’ll signal you, and contact you afterward,” Rokwolf said, after mastering his anger, “if anything changes here, or if I haven’t heard from any of you in several days.”

  Thal rolled up the scroll he was reading and returned it to one of the shelves. They quickly gathered their gear, two horses and a pony, and Blakstar handed his sword to Delgart, who opened a doorway to a place near the camp of the Third Legion. Marilee passed through, followed by Tevvy, Thal, and Blakstar leading their mounts.

  “Be well, brother,” Delgart said as he stepped through the doorway.

  “You, too,” Rokwolf replied, his face a careful mask.

  Chapter 2

  Perhaps we were too quick to rescue Komfleu from Gar; maybe if we had delayed for a year or two, their suffering might have broken their overweening pride and taught them wisdom. But then again, perhaps it would have made the situation worse. . . . They never seem to learn. . . .

  from the private journals of Fereghen Wulfrik, atno 1013

  Three days later, in the middle of a very warm afternoon, Thal and Blakstar rode up to the gates of Komfleu. The guards at the gate slouched against the wall, unshaven, holding rusty spears and wearing grimy leather armor. When the two guards saw Thal and Blakstar approaching, they stepped into the center of road and stood with spears pointing at the newcomers. Thal and Blakstar stopped their mounts, looking down at the two greasy-haired, unkempt wethem blocking their entrance into the city.

  “That’s far enough,” growled one of the guards. “Get down off your horses.”

  “And keep your hands where we can see them,” the second added.

  Thal wanted to laugh but bit his own tongue and slid to the ground. A flicker of annoyance crossed the kortexi’s face, but he, too, climbed slowly to the ground.

  “What is your business here?” the first asked gruffly.

  “We are traveling to Karble,” Thal said quickly, seeing the irritated look on his companion’s face, “and planned to stop here for the night. Can you direct us to a nearby inn where we can rest for the night?”

  The two guards laughed. “There is only one inn,” the first spat, “that will take your kind.”

  Thal’s brow wrinkled; he put one hand on Blakstar’s arm. They had been warned that they might have trouble here by both Marilee and one of her kailum, Grelsor. Thal shot a warning look at the kortexi. “I’m not sure what you mean by that last part,” he noted, keeping his voice level. “This is, after all, the Fereghen’s highway, open to all who wish to travel.”

  The guards seemed to ignore what Thal said. “A white maghi,” the first said, coldly, “and a kortexi: we do not allow your kind to walk freely about our city. We will escort you to the Red Lion where you will stay until we escort you out of our city in the morning. If you leave the inn, or if there is any disturbance while you are staying there, you will be arrested and thrown into our dungeon, all your goods confiscated, and you will wait there until our thukro finds the time to dictate sentence.”

  Thal felt Blakstar tensing, so he gave the kortexi a warning squeeze on the arm. “Uh, right. Lead the way,” Thal said, carefully controlling his voice.

  The first guard turned and passed through the gate; the second followed the two young wethem leading their horses. Thal looked back, noticing that no one came out of the small guardhouse to watch the road; he nudged Blakstar and pointed.

  The kortexi frowned. “You are leaving the gates unguarded? Is that wise?” he asked.

  The guard following them snorted. “You hear that, Malik? Him, questioning us?”

  The first laughed out loud. “As if he knows better than us our duty; as if we need to guard the ruddy gate! Guard it against what?” he asked, stopping.

  “More of their kind, I’d wager,” the second added, also laughing.

  “There hasn’t been any need, not for centuries,” the first went on. “Typical of their kind, isn’t it? Always acting like they are better than everyone else.”

  “And what about the legions of Gar’s forces that just destroyed Shigmar?” Blakstar retorted, his voice rising. Thal grabbed his arm again, shaking his head.

  “There they go again, bearing tales to frighten the foolish,” the second said. “There is no ‘Gar’; he is a fairy-story invented to frighten children into obeying their parents, or fools into bowing and scraping before their kind.” He laughed mockingly.

  “We are not frightened by your fairy-story, kortexi,” the first spat the word like a curse, “so don’t give us any of your nonsense, or we’ll lead you straight to the dungeon. Now, shut your mouths or we will lock you up.” He turned and led them on, turning left just inside the gates and leading them down a muddy, foul-smelling street, past hovels that looked like they would fall down if touched by a gentle breeze. The edges of the street were choked with garbage, and they noticed a half-starved cat digging among the refuse for something to take the edge off of its gnawing hunger. A mangy dog came slinking out from behind one of the shacks; it saw them in the street, tucked its tail between its legs, yelped as if it had been hit, and ran back into the shadows out of sight. The few people who were out at this hour of the afternoon were sad looking wetham clad in filthy rags, one having a bundle in her arms; an aching bawl sounded from the rags, and when any of the wetham noticed the guards trooping down the street, they wrapped their rags more tightly about them and scurried into their hovels or the dirty shadows between the shacks. Thal noted these circumstances and behaviors but did not speak, fearing to antagonize the guards further, not that he felt threatened by them, but he wanted to avoid any incident which would reveal who they were or delay their journey.

  The muddy street wound its way among the shacks, turning a corner into a muddy square; the guard cut straight across the square to the inn on the other side, a small but well-kept inn, looking out of place in its shabby surroundings. A placard swinging above the door with a red lion announced their destination, but as they crossed the square, moving past many merchants’ stalls, a figure dressed in rags stepped out from the shadows beside a tinker’s stall, with matted gray hair and white eyes, who supported his faltering steps with a wooden staff, as gnarled as the hand that held it and the body it supported. He turned his face toward them, stepping in front of them and holding out a dented tin cup.

  “Alms? Alms for a poor old, blind wethi?” his voice croaked.

  “Out of my way, filth!” the first guard exclaimed, lifting his spear to strike the old wethi with the butt of his rusty weapon.

  Before Thal could stop him, Blakstar had his sword out and at the throat of the guard; golden flames licked the blade, causing the first guard to flinch, his eyes wide. “I may grudgingly put up with your poor behavior toward me, but I will not stand by and watch you strike an innocent beggar!” the kortexi hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Here! What are you . . . ?” the second guard started to say but stopped when Blakstar whipped around and pointed his sword directly at the second guard’s throat; the first had gone white, dropping his spear, and the second, looking down th
e flaming blade of will-giver, released his spear, which clunked as it struck the ground.

  “You’ve performed your duty,” Blakstar hissed, “and now you will return to your post.”

  “And you will not report our presence,” Thal added, “nor will you mention anything that has happened here, only that there are two travelers who are staying at the inn who will need an escort out of your charming city tomorrow at daybreak. Do you understand?” he asked, softly but firmly.

  The two white-faced guards nodded vigorously, both groping for their spears, then both turned and fled back the way they had come.

  “That was a kind thing you did,” the voice of the old blind wethi croaked from behind them, “but dangerous.”

  Thal turned to look at the old beggar, surprised to see his face turned in the direction the two guards had gone.

  “They did not like your sword very much, Sir Kortexi,” the old wethi noted, leaning heavily upon his staff.

  “How do you know I used my sword?” Blakstar asked, puzzled by the blind wethi’s behavior.

  The blind wethi sighed wearily. “Although I am blind, I see more than most.”

  “What?” Blakstar asked, his face more puzzled than before.

  “Pay him no mind, master,” the tinker said, coming forward and wringing his hands, “he is mad as well as blind.” The tinker had a long face, baggy cheeks, stringy black hair, and a droopy mustache, reminding Thal of an old hound who had seen too much.

  “I know you,” the old wethi said across the tinker. “You are chosen of the One; you’ve come to save and destroy the world.” The old wethi slumped to the ground slowly, his gnarled hands sliding down the staff.

  “How do you . . . what did you say?” Blakstar said, kneeling next to the blind, old wethi.

  “Ignore him, master,” the tinker said, “he is a crazy old wethi who one minute raves about the end of the world, and the next, he sings nursery rhymes.”

  The gnarled hands released the staff, which fell on top of him as he rolled onto his side; his hood fell off, giving them their first view of his face. Blakstar looked down at that face and was suddenly reminded of another face, similar to this one, which he had recently seen, slumped on dark, hot stone. The kortexi reached for the special flask on his belt, unstoppered it, then dripped some of the Waters into the old wethi’s slack mouth. The Waters revived him a little, so that he drank eagerly from the special skin. Blakstar put his free hand on the old wethi’s chest, whose eyes opened suddenly, now clear blue instead of their former milky white.