The Redemption, Volume 1

by Clyde B Northrup

  “A chance to do what?” Grelsor asked.

  “Surrender, of course,” Mitha put in, who was jogging to the kortexi’s right.

  “Run away,” Hrothlo suggested from Blakstar’s left, and both chief swords were grinning widely at the kortexi jogging between them. Blakstar laughed.

  “Grelsor,” Mitha called back, “if there aren’t more than, say, twenty,” she said, “you could wake them up after sending the swamp creatures away, and we could let Sir Blakstar deal with them while we stand by and watch.”

  “Twenty?” Hrothlo said, “I’m sure he could handle at least thirty before Mitha an’ me would have to help him. Isn’t that right?” he asked the kortexi, winking obviously.

  “I think I’d be fine until fifty,” he said drily, “after that I’d expect some help,” then he added, “at least to drag the bodies out of the way so the others could get close enough.”

  This declaration started the three of them laughing; the shields, Rolva and Hranda, immediately joined them; Velnar grinned widely, but Janelle only shook her head.

  Thal shook his head. “That’s it, then,” Thal said.

  “What do you mean?” Luthina asked.

  “When word of this behavior gets back to Karble,” Thal went on, “he is sure to be renounced as behaving in a manner that is ‘un-kortexi-ish,’ if there is such a word.”

  “Well, there is now,” Klaybear said, “you just invented it,” which started the kailum and maghem chuckling softly to themselves.

  Reena and Kreega came jogging back. “What happened to keeping a low profile?” Reena demanded.

  “There’s a squad of wedaterem and wethem now moving straight for us,” Kreega added.

  “How many wethem?” Hrothlo asked, and he started to laugh, which started the others laughing again.

  “Enough!” Delgart said, quite firmly; the laughter stopped at once. “Everyone feel better now?” he asked. “We’ll share the joke with you later, and it was quite good,” he added, smiling at them. He looked at Reena, who was now jogging beside him. “Composition?”

  “Six wedaterem and eleven wethem,” Reena replied. “They are just crossing the channel south of us.”

  “Any tekson?” Delgart asked.

  “Not obviously,” Reena replied, “but that would be easy to hide.”

  “We are on it,” Grelsor noted, and then fell silent for a moment as six minds sent probing mental fingers forward in the direction from which the two scouts had returned. For a time, they stood unmoving, and Delgart wondered what they had found. Then Grelsor swayed and looked at the others; all eyes refocusing

  “Why did you do that?” Grelsor asked, “it was . . . is quite painful.” He rubbed his temples.

  “It would have been worse if I hadn’t,” Thal replied, “that cloud was a trap as much as a mask to conceal them.”

  “A cloud?” Delgart asked, not fully understanding their conversation. “What do you mean?” The tekson ignored him, intent on their conversation; Delgart waited impatiently.

  “How do you know that?” Hrelga asked.

  “We’ve encountered one before,” Klaybear said.

  “No one has ever been able to mask himself, or herself, let alone an entire group,” Grelsor protested, “on the mental plane.”

  “The morgle can,” Thal said in a soft voice. “They are more powerful mentalics than anyone had ever thought, and their mental power increases with each sentient brain consumed.”

  “Are you certain?” Lidelle asked.

  “As I’ve said, we’ve encountered a morgle before,” Klaybear replied, “and we barely survived, although Blakstar was with us on the mental plane; it was only my wife’s timely arrival, taking our opponent by surprise, that saved us, as she gave Blakstar the opening to use his sword.”

  “On the mental plane?” Grelsor said, surprised. “That’s not possible: the kortexem have no knowledge of mentalics.”

  “We had to teach him,” Thal added, “once we learned more about how the sword worked. You see, since they are untaught concerning things of power, and since his sword is a thing of power, it took energy from him each time he used it: he nearly died before we realized what it was doing to him.”

  “But even then,” Grelsor protested, “how could his sword have a presence there?” he asked, but he immediately realized what he had just asked. “Of course, it is an object of power, and so would, like our staves or your rods, have a presence.” He came out of himself to look at the others. “What we saw was powerful beyond anything I’ve ever seen; this is not going to be easy.” He sighed and shook his head. “Commander, you have been listening, I assume?”

  Delgart nodded. “I don’t completely understand what you were discussing, but I can tell that it complicates things,” he replied. “If they are simply a scouting party sent to learn why the outer posts have not reported, and the posts on either end of the main bridge remain unmanned, then we have the time to engage and destroy them. If, on the other hand, those posts have been re-manned, we do not have the time to fight.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully for a moment, considering what he should do, decided, then signaled for total silence and a movement at a right angle; he followed this signal with a second signal, indicating they erase signs of their passage and hide, waiting to see what the enemy would do. The command squad reacted at once, melting silently into the shadows to the right, leaving no trace that any of them had been there; they waited and watched.

  Minutes slipped slowly by, Delgart listening to the green-glowing slime gurgle, the distant, croaking growl and splashing of a negumflu grabbing its prey, and the rasping, rustling sounds of the occasional night breeze drifting through patches of torch grass. After at least fifteen minutes of waiting in this way, he finally heard the sounds of heavy feet and harsh voices.

  “Garn!” a voice said. “I keep telling you, it’s no good sending them green goblins out to scout for us! They’ve wandered off and forgotten to report; they are useless!”

  “The sounds of voices came from here,” another voice said, “maybe whoever the voices belong to, you know, took care of our scouts.”

  The first voice scoffed. “And did what with their bodies?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted the second, “probably dragged them into the water, or hid them in the guard post.”

  “Look at ‘em,” the first voice said, “if you dragged two of them over this ground, what would happen?”

  “Well, I suppose it might tear the ground up a bit,” the second said.

  “And do you see the ground torn up anywhere?” the first asked.

  “Well, not as such, and not yet,” the second said, “but we haven’t looked everywhere.”

  A new voice that hissed and bubbled, spoke. “Spread out. Search the area around the guard post while I keep us masked.”

  “I’ve had enough of your commands!” the first voice exclaimed. “Too many of my mates have died following your commands, beast!”

  Peering out from behind the trees where they were hidden, Delgart and his squad watched as the scene unfolded. A tall, dark-haired, well-built wethi, wearing dirty leather armor, a wicked looking curved and serrated dagger held in his hand, stood twelve feet from a shorter creature with green skin wearing blood-red robes.

  “A morgle,” Klaybear mouthed; Delgart nodded once, turning back to watch.

  The morgle’s head was larger than a wethi’s head, more bulbous, hairless, and squid-like; beneath the dark eyes and nostril slits there was no visible mouth but what looked like tentacles dangling and twitching as the creature spoke to the tall wethi, who was the source of the first voice.

  “This is for all my mates!” the wethi exclaimed, hurling the dagger at the morgle with all his strength, fueled by hate, which was enough force to pierce through a steel breastplate.

  The morgle lazily raised one of its hands, that Delgart now saw was unlike his hands, having only two fingers and a thumb, all of which were thicker and longer than wethi fingers. The dag
ger, just as it reached the morgle’s hand, was caught in purple light and disintegrated into dust, as if it had aged by ten thousand years in an instant. The morgle moved his fat fingers and turned his palm up, and the wethi rose suddenly into the air, floating toward the morgle.

  “Help me!” he screamed down at the others as he struggled futilely. “You promised to aid me if I would strike the first blow!” he begged, but none came to his aid, and the wedaterem were watching his progress with relish, licking their lips.

  The morgle made a fist, and the wethi’s arms and legs snapped to his sides. He started to yell in pain as he floated to the ground in front of the morgle, turning in the air as he approached the ground. When his feet touched down, the morgle, his hand still clenched, moved his hand down, forcing the wethi down to bring the top of his head level with the morgle’s tentacles that quivered, slowly lifting toward the wethi’s head.

  “Noooo!” the wethi screamed. “Noooo!”

  The tentacles slithered over his head, over his face, and then gripped tightly, pulling the wethi’s head up and into the invisible mouth while at the same time snapping his mouth closed so he could no longer articulate his denial. The morgle released his orthek and grabbed the wethi’s upper arms with both of his hands, holding him in a vise-like grip. The wethi’s legs flailed and lower body twisted frantically, but he could not break free, for all his great strength, from the hands that held his arms and the tentacles that held his head. In the silence that followed the wethi’s screams being cut-off, the sound of bone crunching echoed sharply, followed by a slurping sound, as the wethi’s skull was cracked open and the morgle consumed his brain. The wethi’s body went suddenly limp; the morgle quivered from head to foot with new strength, and he tossed the corpse to the wedaterem, who roared with delight, ripping it apart and beginning noisily to strip the warm flesh from the bones, spitting out pieces of leather armor.

  Delgart signaled they attack.

  “Put the wedaterem asleep,” Delgart whispered to Grelsor, “before this goes any further.” He signaled bows for the rest, taking out the wethem before they had a chance to respond and leaving the morgle to face them all, alone. They attacked before the wedaterem had finished chewing their first bites.

  The seklesem left their hiding places at a run, firing nine arrows into the wethem before any of them even realized an attack was underway; nine wethem crumpled to the ground. Delgart, Velnar, and Janelle hit the tenth simultaneously; all he had time for was a surprised look at his companions before he also crumpled. At the same moment, a sleep orthek blanketed the half-a-dozen wedaterem, and the six toppled onto each other, hunks of half-chewed flesh dribbling from their slack mouths.

  Blakstar ran straight at the morgle, shield held ready and will-giver aimed straight at the creature’s chest.

  The morgle gave a bubbling hiss of surprise that changed quickly to laughter. “Fool!” it hissed. “Do you think you will have a better chance than that last idiot?” He raised his hand in the same way as before, intending to lift the kortexi into the air as he had the rebellious soldier under its command.

  Blakstar swung down with will-giver, and the sword flashed with brilliant golden flames; the morgle staggered backward, his hand and arm flung aside as if struck by the sword itself. The morgle growled, a bubbling sound, and reached toward Blakstar a second time, clenching his hand into a fist to crush the insolent kortexi. Blakstar had been waiting for this action and had raised will-giver to point straight up, turning its edge toward the morgle. The sword, and this time his shield, also, flashed with golden light, as both were driven into Blakstar’s sides, but the kortexi resisted this motion, pushing both sword and shield against the teka-created fist that tried to crush the life out of him. The two combatants struggled for a time until the ground was shaken by a concussion as the golden light flashed, and the morgle was flung from its feet; Blakstar staggered back two steps, then started again toward the morgle who was scrambling to stand.

  “Who are you?” the morgle hissed, stalling for time, backing away from Blakstar.

  “Your death,” Blakstar hissed through clenched teeth, raising his flaming sword and stepping into the blow he was about to deliver. As he swung, the morgle flattened into a two-dimensional figure, then winked out. Blakstar staggered forward, almost losing his feet as his sword whistled through empty air. He spun around once, looking for the morgle. He turned back to his companions, who were looking at him; the maghem had begun to teleport the sleeping wedaterem to Rekor and Korek.

  “Where is it?” Blakstar asked, still looking around warily.

  “I’ve never seen teka like that,” Grelsor said, standing next to Delgart and Reena, the three of them about twenty feet from Blakstar. “The creature flattened out and then winked out, like a magluku canceled.”

  Thal came slowly out of the shadows, face still white.

  “Are you all right?” Delgart asked. “I noticed that you looked ill, but there was no time then to inquire further.”

  Thal shook his head. “I knew what was coming, and I have a weak stomach,” he admitted. “I knew if I watched any longer, I might start retching and give our presence away; instead, I went away.”

  “A wise wethi knows his limits,” Lidelle noted, “and not to cross them.”

  “Blakstar!” Reena shouted, frantically pointing behind the kortexi, but the two-fingered hands and face tentacles had already grabbed Blakstar from behind. While they had been speaking to Thal, the morgle, unnoticed by any of them, had slowly reappeared behind the kortexi, who had lowered his sword while he listened to the others speak. Red light flashed, and something surrounded Blakstar and the morgle, something that the members of the command squad could not penetrate. Velnar, who had been dragging the bodies of the wethem into the nearby channel, had a clear shot from the side at the morgle, but the arrow burned to ash when it struck the red light surrounding both combatants. Delgart, Reena, and Grelsor, who were closest, tried to breech it with their weapons, but all three dropped their swords as soon as the blades came in contact with the red barrier, as the metal of their weapons became instantly red-hot. Thal tried to freeze the barrier, but also failed. Delgart continued to slash at the barrier for several more strokes, stopping when he felt the handles growing hot.

  “What do we do?” Thal asked the others. “We appear to be blocked on all levels, including the mentalic.”

  They watched helplessly as the tentacles tore the helm from the kortexi’s head, and then drew his head against its covered mouth, but the silver hood of his suit defeated the jaws that could crunch through the thickest skulls.

  “Remove your hood!” the bubbling voice of the morgle commanded, and to Delgart’s horror, Blakstar’s hand released his shield; it clattered to the ground, the golden light surrounding it winked out. The now free hand moved toward his neck to release the hood under his chin.

  “Your sword!” Klaybear shouted through the barrier. “Use your sword!”

  The free hand stopped moving; but the morgle noticed this. “Drop the sword!” the morgle commanded, and when Blakstar failed to comply, he repeated the command, with more force: “DROP IT!” The fingers holding the sword started to relax.

  “No!” Klaybear shouted frantically. “Attack the shield!” he shouted to the others. “He cannot hold all of them while all of us attack!” Green kailu fire erupted from his staff; Klaybear flung it against the shield with all the fury he could muster. Two more bolts of green joined his, along with three white bolts from the three maghem.

  The morgle snarled in response to their combined attacks, but his shield did not waver. “Drop the sword!” he commanded a third time, and the fingers holding the hilt opened; the sword started to fall, the golden flames dimming and almost going out, the handle and hilt rolling off the kortexi’s open hand and palm, but as the handle slid past the ends of Blakstar’s fingers, the hand followed the roll of the sword onto the top of the handle, grasping the handle tightly, and when he did, the golden flames fl
ared back to life. The point and blade fell, and Blakstar allowed the sword to fall to the bottom of its arc, then he let his sword hand fall, even as he raised his shield hand to touch the part of his hood beneath his chin. In its haste to feast on the kortexi’s brain, the morgle failed to notice that the sword hand still tightly held will-giver, the blade surrounded by golden light.

  “NO!” Klaybear shouted again, failing to see, as the morgle, what Blakstar was actually doing.

  As the morgle ripped the hood from Blakstar’s head, the point of will-giver swung around and up, sheering through the fabric of his robe, and Blakstar planted the flaming blade with almost no effort into the stomach of the morgle; he released Blakstar at once, astonished at the sword sticking into his robes. A hissing, gurgling sound came from beneath his tentacles, which were shaking convulsively. Blakstar stepped out of the quivering tentacles that had been holding his head and whipped will-giver out of the morgle’s gut, swung around, and sliced off his head. The barrier winked out; the head rolled to a stop, the tentacles still jerking where they fell, severed from the head, the black eyes wide with surprise. His kailu and maghi companions let their arms drop, their bolts of green and white fire winking out, their mouths wide; all Delgart’s squad stood frozen, staring at the kortexi who was wiping his sword clean on the robes of the fallen morgle. He slid the sword into its sheath, pulled his silver hood back over his head, and closed it with a touch of his fingers. He was stooping to pick up his fallen helm when he noticed all the eyes upon him.

  “Something wrong?” Blakstar asked casually, grabbing his helm and pulling it back into place.

  His light words broke the stasis, and so they all began to move again; Reena and Mitha rushed forward and both grabbed his fallen shield, intending to give it back to him, neither noticing that the other had a hold on the shield as they both tried to hand it back to him.

  He smiled at them, thanked them, and slung the shield over his shoulder.

  “That was incredible!” Reena exclaimed. “I thought you were a goner, but you tricked that monster!” She touched his arm fondly, and her hand shook slightly. By this time, Kreega and Hranda had all rushed up so that each could congratulate the kortexi on his action.