The Morgle Unmasked: Chapter 1, Part 2

9 September 2026

Welcome back! We continue with the first chapter of The Morgle Unmasked, the third book in our epic fantasy series. We join the heroes in their sanctuary beneath the ruins of Shigmar as Master Thalamar is awakened by a strange sound. . . . (4 January 2016) The full ebook version of this book is available for purchase from all ebook sellers. We remind all that the first book in this series, Chosen of the One, and the second book, Staff of Shigmar, are both free from Smashwords! Glossary links: Book 3, Book 2, Book 1

Chapter 1, Part 2

Thal sat up in bed suddenly, hearing again a strange humming, and he knew instantly the source of the sound. He swung his legs out of bed, grabbing his clay rod and whispering, “magluku.” A globe of light blossomed from the end of the rod, and Thal saw that Blakstar had also sat up.

“What?” the kortexi said, then he realized what the sound that had awakened them both was, their eyes drawn to the glowing pommel stone of Blakstar’s sword, leaning against the wall next to the head of his bed. He reached out and grasped the hilt of his sword, drawing it from its sheath with a steely, hissing sound. Sickly green flames surrounded the blade, pulsing weirdly in the dim light. Then the green flames were lashed by red flames that engulfed the green for a moment, then the green flashed more brightly, extinguishing the red, and as suddenly as it started, the green flames winked out, the sword resuming its golden glow when held by one of the chosen. Blakstar looked up from the sword at Thal.

“What was that?” the kortexi asked.

Thal did not respond right away; instead, he reached out with his right hand and touched the hilt of the sword, shifting his awareness. He saw a thick green thread pointing behind him to where he knew Klaybear lay next to his wife, breath-giver lying beside them. Since they had heard no other sounds but the sword, he guessed that neither of the green kailum had noticed, both still in deep shock over what had happened to them. He saw the thin, white thread that he knew pointed directly to the rod, looking like it was directly south. He held up his rod, whispered, and the rod lifted off his hand and turned to point directly north: one point west of south, he thought. He sighed, dropped his right hand and gripped his rod with the left. “I’d say that the morgle,” he noted softly, “was attacked but managed to repel his attacker.”

“What were you doing when you touched the sword and with your rod?”

“Seeing where the rod was,” Thal replied.

“And?” Blakstar asked.

“One point west of south,” Thal said.

Blakstar’s head turned automatically in that direction, looking at one wall of their room. “Any idea how far?”

Thal thought for a moment of the other times they had seen the threads connecting the three keys.

“Farther than it was when we were in the tomb and the morgle was here, I’d guess.”

“We need a map,” Blakstar said.

“There is one among the scrolls left by the founders,” Thal said, “but much has changed in more than three thousand years.” Thal thought for a moment. “Wouldn’t Marilee, or Rokwolf, have a current map?”

“Probably,” Blakstar said, sliding his sword back into its sheath and throwing his white and silver cloak around his shoulders; will-giver’s golden light winked out the moment he released the handle. He pushed open the door, Thal close behind him, and Thal saw Tevvy and the three seklesem sitting around the central table, talking quietly. They looked up, hearing the door open.

“Anyone have a map?” Blakstar asked.

“I have a small one,” Tevvy offered, hands going to his pockets. After a moment, he pulled a folded parchment from inside his cloak. He unfolded it and flattened it on the table.

While Tevvy pulled out the map, Delgart asked, “Why do you need a map, now?”

“We were awakened by the sword,” Thal said, standing behind Blakstar and looking over his shoulder.

The three seklesem and Tevvy exchanged a glance.

“How did it wake you?” Rokwolf asked.

“A humming sound,” Thal went on, “then when he pulled out the sword, it was surrounded by green light, then the green was lashed by red, then the green extinguished the red and winked out. We think the morgle must have been attacked and repelled his attacker.”

“We have heard strange rumbling sounds from above, but no humming,” Rokwolf said, his eyes traveling up to the ceiling.

“Why do you need a map?” Marilee asked, repeating Delgart’s question.

“What is one point west of south from here?” Blakstar asked.

Tevvy took out his dagger and laid it over his small map. “Holvar,” he said, “the Mariskal, and Lufkor. How far away?”

Thal looked over Tevvy’s shoulder. “Farther than Holvar, I think, but I don’t think as far as Lufkor.”

“Isn’t there an ancient fortress in that swamp?” Marilee asked, pointing to the map.

“So legend says,” Rokwolf noted, “but as far as we know the only feature in that swamp is a round dome of granite, like a small hill, near the center of the Mariskal.”

“Morokolu,” Tevvy nodded, “the locals call it Morokolu.”

Rokwolf nodded. “The story goes that the fortress was once the home of a kindly lord, who took care of his people; the swamp was not then a swamp, but rich farmland, and the people happy and well-protected by their lord. But the lord married late, so had a son in his old age, a son he indulged, allowing him to have everything he wanted. It was never enough for the boy, so he sought out others of the rising generation who, like him, wanted more than their idyllic life. It is said that they met a lady, who was a ponkola in disguise; she taught them many things, most of them evil. This group of young wethem enticed others to accompany them to these nighttime rituals, becoming either converts or victims of the sordid rites practiced by this ponkola and her followers. They were discovered by the kindly lord, who confronted his son; the son, of course, killed his father and took his place, killing those who refused to join them, replacing his father’s advisors with his own. His fortress became a center of evil, and the legend says that the evil was so great that the fortress itself began to sink into the ground. The great weight of evil, and the displeasure of the One, caused the whole area to sink; the sea rushed in, turning the once fertile farmland into a salty marsh. The sinking of the fortress left all the entrances under water and earth, preventing anyone from entering and discovering the great evil practiced there.” . . .

Come back Friday for another installment from this, the third volume, of The Redemption series. Until then, we remind all that the first two books of this series, Chosen of the One and Staff of Shigmar, are free from Smashwords. Get this book, The Morgle Unmasked, from the links provided. Good reading!