2 November 2026
Today, in the newest installment from the third book of The Redemption series, The Morgle Unmasked, the conversation between Rokwolf and Sutugno continues, both revealing something of their inner selves. . . . (13 June 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 6, Part 6
Rokwolf looked surprised. “No one?” he replied. “No looters?”
Sutugno laughed, but this made her cough; she drank from the cup beside the bed. “There were a few who tried to enter the city,” she spoke in a husky whisper, “but that was before most of the buildings fell. Watching their comrades buried under falling buildings seemed to cure any desire to look further than the gates, and when the water started rising . . . ,” she stopped and left it hanging.
Rokwolf nodded. “So none of the kailum who survived remained here?”
Sutugno shook her head as she sipped more water. “The few masters who survived gathered the handful of novices and apprentices and led them south toward Holvar.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?” he asked.
“They are fools!” she spat. “They think to get help from the Fereghen and rebuild the order,” she snorted and looked away, eyes going distant, “but I’ve read the prophecy; I know what is coming, and few, if any, will survive.” Tears wet her cheeks. “He did not survive,” she went on in a whisper, “I should have been with him, died beside him, then we could have gone on together; instead, I’m trapped here alone, forsaken, haunting the hallways we used to walk together, before . . . ,” she stopped and fell back onto the pillow, striking the bed with clenched fists and shouting, “No! I must not go there again! I have screamed myself hoarse over the last few days, and it did no good but led me to attack my best friend’s husband, who was trying to help me.” She turned and looked at Rokwolf. “I have not forgotten those days when we first met, before. . . .” Her eyes again filled with tears, and she started to shake with sobbing. “Why?” she asked the ceiling. “Why him? Why now? Why me? Oh, why me?”
Rokwolf got up from his chair and went to her side, sitting beside her on the bed, taking the cloth from the basin on the table, and wringing out the water. He felt himself strangely drawn to Klare’s friend in a way that he could not describe or explain, and he always had, ever since he had first known her. Somehow, he understood how she must feel, which was absurd, the rational, logical part of his mind told him, since he had not suffered a loss like hers, but he had lost both parents, he told himself, so he understood grief, and Marilee’s rejection felt somehow similar. If it had not been for Marilee. . . . He folded the cool damp cloth and placed it gently on Sutugno’s forehead; her hands found his, and she held both of them as she continued to sob, holding them to her head as his hands placed the damp cloth. This was an awkward position for Rokwolf, who finally had to lean forward until his elbows rested on either side of her head, bringing his upper body directly over her. He looked down at her face, dirty, streaked with tears, saw her full lips parted, the line of her chin, her neck bare where the sheet had fallen down, stray locks of hair on her neck, her ears, flushed cheeks, and her eyes open, wet, watching him, blue like the Inner Sea, a blue so deep that one could get lost trying to see the bottom. A memory flashed across his mind of that same face, those same eyes, illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun reflected off the calm surface of Krystal Lake. He hardly noticed her hands leave his hands and wrap around his neck, so caught as he was by the depth of her eyes and the memory; he felt himself falling into eternity. Then he felt her warm lips touch his, her hot tongue touch his as she prepared to kiss him, but it was the kiss of someone who desperately wanted to forget her sorrows in the arms of another, someone for whom she still felt something, someone she still had not entirely gotten over or forgotten. For a moment, desire fought with resentment within Rokwolf as Sutugno pulled him down onto the bed into a tighter embrace, as the urgency and passion of her kiss increased. There was no mistaking the fact that he found her very attractive; they had met many times before, under happier circumstances, but he had been preoccupied with Marilee, and he realized that some of the resentment he felt was not at being used by Sutugno, but resentment for being rejected, resentment he felt toward his twin, and resentment toward Klare who came between them. He pulled away and saw mirrored in the deep blue of Sutugno’s eyes similar confusion and surprise. His face flushed when he noticed that one short kiss had elicited more of a response in him than Marilee ever had, and this fact frightened him.
“This is not right,” Rokwolf hissed, but the words sounded wrong, “but . . . ,” he stammered, trying to say more.
Sutugno panted when they broke apart, looking confused. She shook her head at what he said, then interrupted him. “He . . . I had forgotten . . . ,” she said, pausing, then went on, “his kisses were fine, but not like that . . . ,” then she looked at Rokwolf, “you were going to say, ‘but feels so right,’” she finished for him, smiling weakly, gently touching his cheek.
Rokwolf pushed himself off of the bed and onto his feet. “I have to go, now,” he snapped, turning and walking toward the door.
“Please,” her voice pleaded, “don’t go. Your presence holds back the darkness, makes it possible for me to remain sane.”
He stopped within arm’s reach of the door; all his training, all the knowledge, all the warnings, all shouted that he should reach out and open the door, and escape, but the thought of leaving her there alone, the anguish in her voice, stabbed at his heart and was more painful than all Marilee’s rejections combined. Again, he remembered those days on the lake with his twin, Klare, and Sutugno, and how he had felt toward her then, if not for Marilee; it was her fault, after all, that had placed him here, for if it had not been for her clouding of his vision, dividing his loyalties between his desire to save her and his duty, he would not have made the decisions that led him into Xythrax’s trap, which caused him to order his command out of position, leaving Blakstar unprotected and vulnerable and losing him his command. That was why he had been sent–banished, perhaps–to Shigmar, to aid his twin brother and the other chosen in accomplishing their missions in life, which was why he was here, watching over Klare’s unbalanced friend, who had just tried to scratch out his twin’s eyes. He was the victim, caught in a trap made by others. That’s not true! his inner voice shouted. You’re lying to yourself! He shook his head to silence the voice and continued to tell himself, even as he turned and walked back to where Sutugno sat up in bed, it is Marilee’s fault!
On Wednesday we will begin a new chapter, returning to the fortunes of Thalamar and Blakstar as they are forced to leave the inn at Komfleu in the middle of the night. 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!
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