The Redemption, Volume 1

by Clyde B Northrup

I’ve never noticed before, Klaybear replied with a thought, but then, I’ve never come here when it was active in my hand. Look at his mind.

  I see it, she thought, along with a compulsion, but . . . if we sever it, I fear his mind will unravel.

  We will have to tie the ends off before it does, Klaybear thought. It’s not nearly as bad as yours was. It’s just that. . . .

  What? she thought back.

  When we sever the compulsion, the morgle will know exactly where we are.

  Get Blakstar here with his sword, she thought, if the staff is any indication then surely his sword will have an equally powerful presence here: let the morgle come up against will-giver here!

  Blakstar, Klaybear thought.

  “Wh-huh?” the kortexi replied.

  Don’t speak, think, Klaybear thought back to him. Do you remember how to enter the mental plane?

  I think so, Blakstar thought hesitantly.

  Take out will-giver, Klaybear thought, and imagine yourself entering here in full armor with your sword flashing. Do you have that image in mind? Good, now let your mind sink into the sword and let it lead you to us.

  Blakstar appeared beside them with will-giver held before him, its edges bright with golden fire.

  Do you see the thick thread attached to your master’s mind? In response, the kortexi raised and held his sword ready to slice through it. Thal, I assume you have been listening? Klaybear thought.

  Yes.

  We are going to need your help after we sever the compulsion, Klaybear thought.

  I imagine that when you do, the morgle will become quite busy putting its own mind back in order, Thal replied with a thought, so it should stop looking for us, although I’m certain it knows where we are, and they are coming.

  Get ready to slice, Blakstar, Klaybear thought, then keep watch for anything that approaches: try not to damage him too much, since we would like some answers. Ready, dear?

  Slice it! Klare thought in response.

  Will-giver chopped through the compulsion; Thal joined them in the next instant, and their three pairs of mental hand began to knit the ends of the pattern back together.

  Something’s wrong! Thal’s thought exclaimed after only moments. Everything I tie off has already unraveled behind it!

  For me, also, Klaybear added.

  It is as if . . . , Thal thought.

  . . . the morgle anticipated this move, Klaybear finished.

  Whole sections of the pattern are coming apart, Thal thought, and then added, Klare, use breath-giver’s fire to cauterize whole sections before they unravel!

  But that will destroy . . . , she protested.

  Do it! Thal thought back. It is the only way we can save him!

  Mother! Klare called out. Help us!

  I cannot, came the soft but penetrating, feminine response.

  This must be, came an equally penetrating masculine response.

  No, please! Klare’s thought implored, but there followed only silence.

  Use the staff, quickly! Thal’s thought exclaimed.

  Blakstar! Klaybear’s thought called. We need you and your sword!

  Klare wielded the staff with her mental fingers, using its green fire to burn away sections of the pattern that were unraveling; the kortexi saw and imitated what she was doing with the staff by using the golden fire of his sword. At first, they seemed to stop the pattern from unraveling further, but then a section that had been cauterized started to come apart again despite having the ends sealed off, even though they continued to tie and slice until all four realized at once that there was nothing left of the pattern; Blakstar’s master sighed once in his sleep and died.

  I mourn with you, my children, but this must be, the penetrating masculine voice said.

  You must be one, the feminine voice added, no matter what Elker does to try and divide you, no matter that those who you will help fear and shun you, no matter that those who should support and aid you, turn against you, fight you, and try to destroy you; you must be one!

  They knew at once that the presences had gone; Blakstar’s mental form glowed to match the golden flames licking the edges of his blade.

  Let’s finish it, Blakstar thought, I will make him suffer for what he has done to my master!

  She is suffering, Klare thought back.

  She? Klaybear thought.

  How do you know? Thal thought.

  Klare held up her mental hand, and Klaybear could see the thread of compulsion that had been attached to the Wesento’s mind wrapped several times around the palm and held tightly in her hand.

  How did you do that? Klaybear asked.

  We wetham have our little secrets . . . , she began mysteriously, but Thal’s thought interrupted her.

  It was breath-giver, wasn’t it? Thal noted.

  Oh, all right! It was the staff, she admitted, but after the trouble you have caused me, and the sleep I have lost. . . . She let it hang there for a moment before going on. Anyway, when the sword sliced through it, the staff somehow reached out and grabbed and held the end of it, winding it around my hand; I could suddenly see into her mind, and, by the way, she did not attack Shigmar, nor does she have the rod or know anything about it. She returned here with Fregren on Gar’s orders, after Motodu had altered his mind with the rod and placed the compulsion on him, tying him to her. She entered Karble with Fregren as his ‘prisoner’; then ‘transformed’–her word–someone they captured into her likeness, and this look-alike was executed. She changed her form into what you saw and has been controlling him ever since, controlling the order through Fregren, ordering him to poison by degrees the Wesento so that she could alter his mind in preparation for our arrival: Gar told her that we would come here: the whole thing is an elaborate trap for us, and it isn’t sprung, yet.

  The door crashed open and Klaybear shifted awareness into the physical world; Fregren entered after several kortexem, swords drawn. Klare stood on one side of the bed holding a still glowing breath-giver; Blakstar stood on the opposite side of the bed, holding will-giver over the Wesento, and golden flames still licked the edges of the blade; Klaybear stood next to Klare, green light still surrounding his outstretched hands, and Thal stood next to Blakstar, his hands surrounded by white light.

  “What have you done to our master?” Fregren asked in a loud voice.

  “We are kailum from Shigmar,” Klare replied indignantly, “we have tried to heal him from the poison you gave him!”

  This declaration started a rumbling of voices in the room and in the hallway outside, but Fregren’s look was icy.

  “How dare you!” Fregren exclaimed. “I am a kortexi and above such petty accusations. She is obviously lying to cover up what they have done: killed our master!” The rumbling of voices turned angry, and many of those outside were trying to see inside the room.

  Before anyone could stop him, Blakstar moved so quickly that he was only a blur of colors and motion; he stood facing Fregren with his still flaming sword pointed directly at Fregren’s heart. “You betrayed our order!” he hissed through clenched teeth. Fregren’s face turned white. “You brought an enemy into Karble; you poisoned our master; you are serving Gar! Admit it!” Blakstar shouted.

  Fregren’s eyes widened and he flinched at every statement; he collapsed onto his knees, sobbing as will-giver did its work upon him. “I . . . ,” he sobbed, “I . . . ,” he sobbed again, but could not continue, although his mouth worked as if he were speaking. His eyes bulged; his face turned red and he fell over, clawing at his chest, choking, trying to draw breath, but his windpipe had closed itself.

  “Do something!” Klare shouted.

  “It’s not him!” Thal exclaimed. “It’s the morgle!”

  “Keep him alive, if you can, Klare!” Klaybear shouted. He nodded once to Thal. “I’ll follow Klare’s thread; you follow the one attached to the kortexi; maybe we can catch her off guard.”

  “Especially if Klare can make her uncomfortable,” Thal said. “You take Bl
akstar with you: she’s expecting me.”

  “Can you do both?” Klaybear asked.

  “I’m a wetha,” Klare quipped, but her face was beginning to sweat.

  Klaybear smiled, his eyes growing distant. Blakstar? Are you with me?

  I am.

  They saw both threads of compulsion, but the one Klare still held was pulsing with green light, surging away from them; they moved together in that direction.

  Stay behind me, Klaybear thought to Blakstar, just in case, and be prepared to strike with will-giver.

  Too bad you do not have breath-giver, Blakstar thought. I imagine the two of them together. . . .

  Yes, but Klare needs it more than I; I think we will be sufficient. Light flashed ahead of them, and Klaybear prepared his defenses. Use your sword and shield to block anything she throws at you; they should have the same effect here as they would against a physical attack.

  Thal and the morgle came into view, facing each other, hurling bolts of light at one another; each bolt of light struck and surrounded the target for a moment before winking out, and they could see at once that Thal’s bolts were growing feebler, and it was taking him longer and longer each time to throw off her attacks. Klaybear gathered and hurled his own green bolt at the morgle, hoping to distract her and give Thal time to recover some energy, but his green bolt struck an invisible barrier and glanced off into another direction, missing its intended target. Moments later, Klaybear hit the barrier and was thrown back; Blakstar halted behind him.

  What now? Blakstar asked.

  We have to get to him soon; he’s fading fast, Klaybear noted, as it took seconds for Thal to throw off the red bolt instead of moments.

  Blakstar swung the flaming will-giver in a heavy, overhand stroke; the sword struck the barrier with a dull thud but did not bounce off; the morgle staggered as the blade bit into the barrier, and she glanced with her beady black eyes in their direction. This gave Thal the moment he needed to shoot a jet of flame from his fingers; she barely leapt aside but her robes caught fire. When she rolled to her feet, a tongue of what looked like green fire whipped out from her fat-fingered hands, wrapping around their white maghi companion and pinning his arms to his sides; it lifted him off his feet where he struggled helplessly as he floated. Another bolt of mental power caught and held him, but the effort to hold Thal weakened the barrier sufficiently for the kortexi’s sword to break through. Klaybear hurled a second bolt of green fire at the morgle even as he leaped through. The bolt slammed into her and threw her back, surrounding her momentarily with light, but she threw it off quickly and threw a red bolt back that slammed Klaybear into the barrier with such force that it knocked the wind from him. Before he could respond in kind, a second tongue of green flame, that he soon learned was water, whipped out and circled around him several times, pinning his arms to his sides. Red light slammed into and surrounded him, and he felt himself floating helplessly in the air. He heard a hissing, gurgling sound coming from the morgle.

  Pitiful, foolish wethem! she said. Your mental powers are no match for mine! I will deliver you gibbering to the Great Lord, and great will be my reward for three of the chosen!

  Blakstar stepped through the breach he made in the barrier and strode slowly toward the morgle. You should not gloat before all three of us are caught, he noted wryly.

  The hissing, gurgling sound repeated. You have no mental powers, kortexi, she hissed, and should you by some miracle escape me, I’ve made sure that your entire order will turn against you!

  Be that as it may, Blakstar noted and continued to stride toward her. You have yet to catch me, and you won’t.

  Won’t I, fool? she hissed, hurling a red bolt at him. Blakstar held up his shield and deflected the red bolt; golden light flashed from his shield. The morgle sent a second bolt against him that he also deflected; he stepped closer. She lashed out with the tongue of water; he bashed it aside with his shield then sliced off the end of the whip-like tongue with will-giver, and the tongue shattered as if it were made of fragile glass; he strode closer. She continued to hurl red bolts at him, continued to lash at him with the whip-like tongue of water, and he continued to parry, bash, and slice, moving ever closer to her. When she finally recognized death bearing down upon her, she snarled, which sounded like an irritated gurgle, and turned to flee, running straight into the green fire of breath-giver. She blocked the bolt, but in the time it took her to do this, the kortexi had caught up to her and drove will-giver between the shoulders of her mental form. Her form shook, and she let out a hissing, gurgling wail just before her image shattered into fragments and winked out. Klaybear and Thal came up behind him, smiling at Klare.

  Your timing, my dear, is impeccable as always.

  How did you know? Thal asked Blakstar.

  I didn’t, for sure, but something Klaybear said as we came here gave me the idea that my sword and armor would work the same here as in the physical world; what’s going on back there? he asked Klare.

  Come and see, Klare thought.

  For the second time, they shifted together back to the physical world. Everyone was slumped on the floor.

  “What did you do?” Blakstar asked, looking horrified.

  Klare smiled. “Put them all to sleep,” she admitted, “I had to: many of them were drawing their swords about to attack you, whether you were aware or not. It seems several of them were convinced by Fregren that you were Gar’s agent sent to destroy the order,” she was shaking her head, “which is quite ironic, since he was the one sent to do just that.”

  “Wake them up,” Blakstar said firmly, “I must prove to them that I am right and he is the one.”

  Klare arched an eyebrow at him. “And how do you propose to do that?” she asked.

  “I will challenge him to trial by combat, which will prove my innocence and his guilt,” Blakstar replied. “It is the kortexi way.”

  “Uh-huh,” Klare agreed, “except that he is now a gibbering vegetable that will not even know to feed himself let alone hold a sword.”

  “Then I’ll challenge . . . ,” Blakstar stammered, “whoever does not believe me.”

  Klare let out an exasperated sound. “Kortexem!” she exclaimed throwing up her hands. “Didn’t you hear what Mother just told us?”

  “I thought those voices sounded familiar,” Thal noted, sounding surprised, “that’s who spoke to me last night, telling me that we should not travel like ordinary people, because the hunt is on. In other words, we should move around using the keys.”

  Klare looked at him a long moment. “That makes sense,” she said, “since we had to pull Tevvy out of a trap early this morning, just before we came to visit you two, because he could not lose those pursuing him.” She turned back to the kortexi. “I’m sure that Fregren raised the alarm before coming here, so it won’t be long before more of your fellows arrive to investigate and clap us in irons, which I intend to avoid. Mother told us that all would turn against us, that we are in that time where we have only each other: that is why we must be one.”

  “The One said my master had to die?” Blakstar said, still puzzling over what had happened.

  Klare rolled her eyes and threw up her hand again. “Where did you leave your horses?” she asked, “since I know this one,” she jerked her thumb at Blakstar, “won’t leave without them.”

  Thal and Klaybear were grinning. “In the stable,” Thal replied.

  Klare tossed breath-giver to him. “Then you better take us there, and quickly, too.”

  Thal laughed and opened an archway to the stable.

  “I can’t leave,” Blakstar continued to protest, “I must stay and clear my name of this taint.”

  “You won’t be able to,” Klare said, and she took his arm and dragged him into the doorway.

  Thal was shaking his head. “She wasn’t always like this, was she?”

  Klaybear nodded. “I think she’s gotten firmer, more resolute, since. . . .” He sighed and stepped through the archway; Thal followe
d.

  Chapter 13

  The best results are those which are the most simple and, at the same time, the most subtle: if we can mix compounds from agents that induce the healer to introduce elements that react in deadly ways to our compounds, or agents hidden within the compounds, then erase all traces of the deadly reaction from the victim, we can sit back and watch the competing powers eradicate each other, leaving us free to fill the power vacuum and do as we please, with none the wiser. . . .

  from the Preface to the Alkemikal Arkana

  What was that throbbing, pounding sound, and why wouldn’t whoever was making it stop and let him sleep? Perhaps he slept and dreamed the sound, but it was too painful to be a dream, feeling as if someone were stabbing at the back of his head with the point of a dagger. He reached past the bloody red haze filling his head and tried to grasp at a thought, but it slipped away, and the effort made stars sparkle and flash in the red fog filling his thoughts. Where was he? He could not recall, and then he felt the blow again and got a glimpse of a room filled with bottles and smells, and things burning, the taste of salt on his tongue that must be hanging out of his mouth, and he must be drooling. A face swam past, and then another, but he could not focus on them; then more faces floated past, and then the shape of a wetha who awakened feelings that altered the color of the fog, giving it a darker, bluer hue; the pain faded slightly and her form floated closer, embracing him. He felt again the touch of her lips on his, and the taste of her tongue, but this made his head throb worse.

  He let her image slide away, hoping to recall something closer, something of where he was and what had happened to him; he felt himself roll over and groan, bumping into something that moved. His hands groped and he felt four, wooden legs: he recalled that he had been sitting in a chair but had slumped when he had been struck from behind. He felt something hard poking into his waistline; he groped and found a small bottle secreted into a pouch just behind his belt. He pulled it free, struggled with the stopper before getting it open, and took a swallow of the healing liquid. The thought crossed his mind that he should save some of it for Tevvy, and he remembered who he was with. He relaxed for a few minutes, waiting for the liquid to have some effect, and when his vision cleared and some of the throbbing in his head eased a little, he pulled himself slowly, carefully up onto his knees, looking around on the floor until he saw the fallen awemi, who lay still on the floor beside the chair next to his. He slid the small vial carefully over the uneven wooden floor while he crawled closer to his fallen companion; tilting Tevvy’s head back, Rokwolf poured a few drops of the healing elixir into his mouth. Tevvy seemed to revive a little, enough to drink the rest of the potion. Rokwolf sat on the floor with his back against the workbench; he listened for any other sounds and heard a raspy breathing coming from behind the bench. So the old alchemist had not betrayed them, but the more pessimistic part of his mind disagreed with this thought. He carefully checked himself over to see what they had taken; he was surprised to find that he still had all his possessions. Odd, what cutpurse would bash someone over the head and not rob him? Perhaps they had come to rob Presgrut, and he and Tevvy had simply gotten in the way, but why would they rob the old alchemist’s shop in the middle of the day?