21 September 2026
Welcome all! We return with another installment from the third book of The Redemption series, The Morgle Unmasked, continuing to follow two of our heroes as they pass through a poor section of Komfleu, on their way to the only inn that will allow them to stay overnight, much to the irritation of our kortexi. . . . (8 February 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 2, Part 2
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 the 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.
“Peace,” the kortexi said, “the Waters of Life are potent.”
The now clear eyes focused on the kortexi kneeling over him. “I see you!” the old wethi exclaimed, his face brightening, and his eyes moving all around. “I see all of you!” he went on, leaping to his feet. He held up his hands and looked at them. “Oh dear, I am old! My hands were not wrinkled when last I saw them.” His voice sounded sad, but still he smiled widely; he looked at Blakstar. “It is true, then, what my blind eyes saw: you are Sir Karble reborn! I can see!” he shouted again, turning and moving quickly away, almost dancing as he crossed the square. Others in the square took up his shout; the tinker touched Blakstar’s shoulder.
“Masters,” he whispered, “you must get inside quickly. Once the guards hear the noise, they will come to investigate, and seeing as you are the only outsiders here, you will be arrested.” The tinker looked around furtively. “Hurry!” he hissed, “before they come! Master William will take care of you inside the inn.” The tinker seemed to disappear into his stall, and, as the level of noise around the square increased, Thal tugged on the reins of his mount and grabbed Blakstar’s arm; they entered the inn’s yard and handed their reins to the boys waiting by the door.
Blakstar followed the boys into the stable, intending to show them how to remove his mount’s saddle and tack; Thal mounted the steps and entered the inn, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dimness inside. He went to the counter and rang the small bell.
“A moment, if you please,” a voice spoke from further inside.
A few minutes later, Blakstar came in, followed by the two boys carrying their saddles and tack.
“They told me this would be safer in our room,” the kortexi explained.
“That’s right, sirs,” the taller of the two said. He was thin with red-orange hair and freckles. “Our tack room has been broken into before.”
“Be quiet!” the shorter exclaimed, who had dark, almost black, hair and a clear complexion; his build was slightly bigger than his brother’s although still lean. “Father wouldn’t want us speaking of those things to strangers.”
“They are guests, Jon,” the taller said. “Besides, one is a kortexi and the other a white maghi. Father said they are worthy of trust because of the orders they follow.” He set Blakstar’s saddle on the floor and looked at Thal. “My brother is sensitive about certain things, especially those involving our younger brother.”
“Stop it, Jake!” Jon hissed.
“You see,” Jake went on in a softer voice, “our younger brother, William, ran off and joined the local thieves’ guild. It was him who led the thieves here, and they took the gear of one of your fellows, Sir?” he waited for the kortexi to supply his name.
“Blakstar,” he supplied.
“You shouldn’t be saying this,” Jon inserted, speaking through clenched teeth.
“Sir Blakstar,” Jake went on, “and your fellow kortexi went to look for our brother. He returned several hours later with his gear and William in tow; ma’ was bursting with tears. He stayed home for a few weeks, but then pa’ discovered him sneaking out at night, so William left and did not return.”
Blakstar put one hand on the hilt of his sword, causing the golden topaz affixed to the pommel to glow. “Do you want me to go and get him?”
“No,” said a new voice, the voice Thal had heard before, “he’d just run off again.” . . .
On Wednesday we will meet the innkeeper and learn more of the situation in this city of the realm. 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!
Clyde B. Northrup 
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