30 September 2026
We return with a new installment from the third book of The Redemption series, The Morgle Unmasked, as Klaybear finally awakens from the sleep that has held him since he enacted the most terrible power of Shigmar’s staff. . . . (7 March 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 3, Part 2
“Klaybear!” The voice came from a distance. “Klaybear! You need to get up.” He knew that voice: it was his twin, but why was he speaking in common? “Klaybear! Klare needs you.” He felt himself roughly shaken. Klare needed him? He had heard that somewhere before . . . , in the dream! He had seen his dead parents, and Klare’s now dead parents: all had told him that Klare needed him. He sat up, blinking in the bright light. Slowly, his twin’s face swam into focus, looking concerned and slightly irritated.
“Klare?” Klaybear asked, looking around bleary-eyed.
“She is in the other room,” Rokwolf said, looking away. “We thought it best, since both of your sleeps were disturbed,” he added, apologetically.
His memories of what had happened in the recent past were slow in returning, then he remembered the dream. “I saw mother,” he said hastily, switching to twin. “I hugged mother,” he went on, “I can still feel her arms around me, smell the scent of her hair, hear her sobs of joy, but it was only a dream,” he finished, looking at Rokwolf.
A spasm of pain shot across Rokwolf’s face, replaced by envy, then the look passed. “You saw mother?”
“And father,” Klaybear said. “They were both young, like us; Delgart looks exactly like father; so do you, except your eyes are mother’s.”
Anger flashed behind Rokwolf’s eyes. “They were young? How is that possible? I know mother died when she was young, but father was not young. You know how much he aged after Delgart was taken.”
Klaybear leaned back onto his elbows. “Klare’s parents were there, too, and they looked young,” he stopped, hesitating for a moment. “Just before the dream ended, I noticed others, and one of them, who looked just like me, told me I needed to help their mother. Rokwolf, I think they were, are, or will be our children, but they were grown, looking the same age as our parents and Klare’s parents.”
The look of irritation flashed across Rokwolf’s face; he changed the subject back to Klare, speaking in common. “There is something not right about Klare,” he said.
“Not right?” Klaybear asked, also switching from their private language. “What do you mean, not right?”
“She does not remember what has happened, or how she got here, or even, what this place is,” Rokwolf replied carefully. “She was surprised to see me, here, believing that I was still in the Thruplar,” he said.
“The desert?” Klaybear said. “You were there over a year ago, before we were married.”
“Precisely,” Rokwolf said with a significant look.
Klaybear looked closely at his twin, then looked away. Bleakness filled him. “Are you implying that she thinks it is more than a year ago, when you were in the desert, and we . . . ,” but he could not finish his thought. Rokwolf nodded once, and Klaybear put his face into his hands. “No! I cannot! It is too much!”
“I tried to show her your things,” Rokwolf said.
“You took her to our house?” Klaybear asked, looking up.
“No,” Rokwolf replied. “We removed as much as we could from your house before that quarter of the city flooded.”
“Flooded?” Klaybear asked in disbelief.
“When the wave released from the staff passed through Shigmar,” Rokwolf replied, “it did something to the stone and wood of the buildings; most of them have crumbled, blocking the river. The northern areas of Shigmar are now covered with water; the river changed course and now flows through the city rather than into the sewers beneath the city, for most of the sewers have also collapsed. Only the passage to this sanctuary and out to the waterfall remain, but when the water flowed into the southwest quarter, it started to run down the tunnel that had not collapsed, so our only way in or out might be the staff, or the kortexi’s sword.”
“Where are the others?” Klaybear asked.
“Blakstar said that he had to return to Karble and report what happened to him on the Mountain of Vision,” Rokwolf replied. “Thal went with him, as they intend to go south from Karble to his father’s tower, hoping that his parents left us some clues and information about the keys. He also said that the only arch of advancement he could use is the one in his tower. Tevvy went with Delgart . . . ,” he hesitated, a spasm of anger twisting his face, “and Marilee back to Holvar, then he was going on to Rykelle.”
“Why is he going there?” Klaybear asked.
“While you were asleep,” Rokwolf replied, “the kortexi’s sword acted strangely, and Thal reasoned that the morgle, who still holds the rod, was attacked twice by parties unknown. He believed that the morgle survived the first assault but maybe not the second. The line connecting the sword to the rod pointed just west of south, toward the Mariskal, we believe, and an ancient fortress in the swamp that locals call Morokolu.”
“He saw that line, the one that connects the three?” Klaybear asked.
Rokwolf shrugged. “I suppose he did, at least, that is the way he spoke of it.”
“I can show you what he meant,” Klaybear said, holding up his staff.
Rokwolf shook his head. “I don’t think there is the time right now. Anyway, since Tevvy’s father’s school is in Rykelle, Tevvy reckons he might have more information. When he learns anything, he will indicate it through our verghrenum so we can contact him, at sundown, using the staff. If he cannot get us to respond, he will try to contact Thal, who can then relay the message to us, using Blakstar’s sword.”
“How long have I been out?” Klaybear asked.
“Three days, at least,” Rokwolf replied, “although within this place, time is hard to judge. Thal and Blakstar ought to be in Komfleu by now, Delgart back in Holvar, and I imagine Tevvy is getting close to Rykelle.”
“When did Klare wake up?” Klaybear asked.
“Oh, she hasn’t, not really,” Rokwolf shrugged. “She started to wake up this morning, but she became so agitated when I tried to bring her up to date, and you would not waken, I gave her one of your sleeping drafts. She is moving around like she is coming out of it, so I thought I should try waking you again before putting her back to sleep.”
“So you’ve been here for three days,” Klaybear said, “by yourself? What have you been doing?”
“The shape of our sanctuary,” Rokwolf said the word bitterly, “has altered. When Tevvy and I returned here with Klare, a whole new set of chambers had opened: a stable for our horses, and a larger cave, somehow with natural lighting, where there is an exercise track, grass growing, and a large area at the center of the track for a garden. At least, that is what it seems to me to be; we even found a store of seeds that I have used in that area, playing farmer when I wasn’t watching over the two of you or exercising the horses. The miraculous part of it is that the seeds have sprouted and are growing at an accelerated rate, which is good, since there is probably very little food to be had in the ruins of Shigmar, fresh vegetables in particular.”
Klaybear looked at his twin for a moment before speaking; there was a quality in his voice that he had never before noticed, a kind of resignation, as if he had given up. He wanted to reach out with the eyes of his mind and examine Rokwolf’s mind, thinking that something had happened to him. Instead, he turned sideways on the bed and pulled on his boots, then he stood and picked up his staff, the eye-shaped emerald beginning to glow as soon as his hand touched breath-giver. “Show me what you’ve done, since you say Klare is still asleep.”
“She was, yes,” Rokwolf said, turning to leave the bedroom and enter the main room of their secret sanctuary. He led his twin into the stable, past their three horses, contentedly munching on hay and grain, and into the larger cave. “See, the light is turning orange, so sunset must be near, although the chamber is never completely dark: the light at night is a gentle silver, but where it comes from I cannot tell. Tevvy reckoned that we are far underground.” He led Klaybear across the dirt track, and the fresh hoof prints, to the center, where he had planted many different vegetables. “It looks like a week has passed today, by their growth,” he noted pointing to some bean plants climbing up their poles.
Klaybear put one booted foot on the fence dividing the track from the garden. “You have been busy,” he noted. “I never pictured you as a farmer, my brother.”
Rokwolf shrugged. “I do what needs to be done; I have always done what needed to be done. Why should I do otherwise?”
Klaybear looked at his twin for a long moment, then sighed. “What am I going to do about Klare?” he asked.
Rokwolf snorted. “I’m not really the one you should ask; my experiences with wetham have not been positive,” he replied, looking at his garden. “You should ask Delgart. He still seems to have a way with wetham; I’ve already seen his effect on . . . ,” but he stopped, sighing and shaking his head.
“What is bothering you, wolfman?” Klaybear asked in twin. “Ever since you have joined us, you have been hiding something from me; what is it that so troubles you?”
Rokwolf looked back suddenly, on hearing Klaybear calling him by his secret name from childhood. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. After a time of silence, he shook his head slowly then shrugged. “It does not matter, bearman; it is nothing.”
“The fact that you will not speak of it tells me it is something significant,” Klaybear replied.
Rokwolf drew himself up to deny what Klaybear was suggesting, then he looked at his twin and deflated. “I hate waiting,” he whispered, “I should be out there, doing something, instead of being trapped in this tomb, but someone had to stay behind and watch over you, and I was the best choice, since the others had things they needed to do. Also, they thought it would be better for me to stay, since we are twins, and Delgart had to return to Holvar for . . . ,” he broke off, looking back toward the stable.
Klaybear turned, hearing the sounds of someone moving inside the main room. Both started in that direction, then heard a startled exclamation, followed by a frightened scream. Before either could move, a streak of green shot out of the stable and flung herself into Klaybear’s startled arms. Klare’s honey-flecked brown hair was a tangled mess, her robes twisted around her small frame, and her feet bare.
“You left me alone!” she sobbed, desperately clinging to him.
Klaybear held Klare tightly, stroking her hair and kissing her; unnoticed, Rokwolf turned away, moving back toward the garden and climbing over the fence. “I’m here,” Klaybear whispered, “you’re safe.” . . .
On Friday we will continue with this exchange between Klaybear, Klarissa, and Rokwolf, as we see just how much Klare’s character has changed. 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!
Leave a comment