The Redemption, Volume 1

by Clyde B Northrup

  Blakstar felt the hands of the two kailum slip from his shoulders, heard them both fall silent; he let will-giver fall as its light went out, feeling the forces surging through him and the sword cease. A crooked grin split his face as he looked at his companions. “That was fun,” he said simply, “but tiring,” he added drawing breath heavily.

  “Draw energy back from will-giver,” Klaybear said, a crooked grin reflected on his face.

  Blakstar nodded once; Lidelle shook his head. “Don’t ever let your fellows hear you speak that way,” Lidelle said, “they will likely pull you apart with their bare hands.”

  The grin left Blakstar’s face, and he frowned. “But why?” he asked. “We could be so much more powerful . . . Sir Karble, the founder of our order, did not have such a prejudice, why are they so opposed to teka now?”

  Lidelle shrugged, then held up his staff. “Just as we can no longer construct a staff that will channel the forces needed to perform the orthek we just did,” he replied, “I would guess that the kortexem also lost knowledge. . . .”

  Before he could finish, a shout interrupted him. “We need some help!” Delgart’s voice exclaimed, and the four of them turned and ran toward the sound of his shout.

  Blakstar, leading Klaybear, Grelsor, and Lidelle, ran into the area of shadow toward the sounds of shouts and clashing weapons, and within a few strides saw ahead a sickly red glow and the rest of the command squad facing it. Immediately, Blakstar saw that the sound of weapons was not from battle with the enemy, but from their attempts to hack through thick, black webs strung between the trees and completely blocking their progress; the red glow came from beyond the webs, a great, indistinct shape moving around the area behind the webs and trees. Delgart looked up as they ran up.

  “Tevvy’s back there,” Delgart said, “I recognize his voice, but we haven’t found anything that cuts through these strands, except by freezing and then shattering them, but that is slow work.”

  “Stand aside,” Blakstar said, stepping past Hrothlo and Mitha who were trying to hack through another black strand. “Let’s see what will-giver can do,” he added, brandishing his sword, then swinging it in an overhand stroke against the black webs; he cut through only one of the thick strands. The kortexi stepped back and looked at the webs for a moment before gripping his sword with both hands and swinging a second time; he managed to slice through two. Blakstar took this resistance to his blade as a personal insult and attacked a third time with even more force and fury; his added anger enabled him to cut halfway through a third strand. He paused and leaned on his sword, looking back at the others.

  “At this rate,” Blakstar noted, “we will arrive a week too late.”

  Thal and Klaybear moved forward to stand behind Blakstar, placing white and green-glowing hands upon each of the kortexi’s shoulders.

  Try it again, Blakstar, Thal’s voice spoke in his mind, this time imagine the blade of your sword an icy flame slicing through the webs.

  Blakstar raised his sword a fourth time and the blade of will-giver suddenly became a tongue of blue-gold flames, so cold that ice crystals formed from the moisture in the air around the sword, causing a miniature snowstorm to fall from the blade. This time, when the kortexi swung down to cut the black webs, the strands shattered, the blade passing as easily through them as if it were moving through water; Blakstar brought the sword up to his left, shattering more of the webs, and the three of them stepped forward together, the shards of the black webs crunching under their booted feet. The sword swung down to the right again, then up to the left, and they stepped forward, feet crunching on the crystalline shards of the frozen, shattered webs. Another step forward and the sword flamed more brightly blue-gold, increasing their forward progress.

  “Form up and follow!” Delgart exclaimed. “Prepare for battle!” he added, needlessly.

  The red glow grew clearer, the sounds of Tevvy’s cries more loud, and Blakstar broke through the fences surrounding Spenthronsa’s lair. So intent on cutting a path through the webs, Blakstar did not, at first, notice; only when Klaybear and Thal’s hands slipped from his shoulders, and the blue-gold flames surrounding his sword winked out, did he look up and see the horror that they faced. Perhaps in the deepest, darkest nightmares of someone deranged could anyone have imagined a creature as monstrous as the one in front of them, and by their great fortune, Spenthronsa was turned away from them, so she had not seen them as yet. Spenthronsa was like a spider grown to the size of a house; she was not as long as an aperu, but she was larger and bulkier, and more agile on her six legs on the ground or in the trees than the aperu was while flying. A trio of krugle would have been easily crushed by the sponsu queen. The bloated, bag-like rear part of her body was black, with streaks and splotches colored blood red or putrid green, and ending in a curved spike dripping a clear liquid that burned the strands of webs upon which the drops fell. Her legs were thick as saplings and ending in claws; her center and front segments were flatter and jointed, and from his position behind her and to the side, Blakstar could see her front pair of legs off the ground tossing the awemi from left to right, toying with him to increase his terror. Also, her entire form was surrounded by a bloody red light, and she was the source of the glow they had seen. All around the edges of her lair, hanging from the branches of the trees, were the remains of her victims, looking like mummified corpses, all the liquid in their bodies sucked out to feed Spenthronsa; he saw, not only the forms of wethem, but also of animals, wedaterem, and even one or two morgle.

  Blakstar made a move to run forward, but Delgart stopped him. “Once you touch her web,” Delgart said, “she will know we are here, so we need to work out a plan of attack before you alert her to our presence.”

  Blakstar considered this for a moment before nodding. “I’ll attack her straight on,” he said, “you split the squad in half and have each half try and disable her from the sides.”

  Delgart grinned and squeezed the kortexi’s shoulder once. “Exactly what I was going to suggest,” he said. “Give me a moment to pass the word to the others.” He turned to the others. “All the chiefs, go left; all the seconds, go right. I’ll go with Blakstar, Klaybear, and Thal to attack her head, while you try and disable her from the sides. I’m guessing that, according to what we have heard from the others, only cold-based ortheks will have any effect. Think of our second commander’s life draining away, and the rest of our legion pinned down and being slowly destroyed as we speak.” He turned back to Blakstar. “Ready?” he asked. “May the One preserve all heroes and fools.”

  “Because there is little difference between them,” Janelle added wryly.

  Delgart grinned wolfishly, and for a moment, Blakstar noticed how much the commander resembled his younger brother, Rokwolf, even though half of Delgart’s face had been marred by half the mark of Gar. “Now!” he exclaimed, and all of them leaped forward, half the squad moving left, half moving right, while he and his fellow chosen ran straight at Spenthronsa. As soon as Blakstar, who led the way, set foot on the web, Spenthronsa was aware of them, catching Tevvy and turning to see who approached; she casually tossed the awemi aside, and more of the black webs shot out from beneath her, wrapping around Tevvy’s limp form and attaching to a nearby limb, and as she turned toward him, Blakstar glimpsed her face, which contained elements both spider-like and demonic, for she had two main eyes surmounted by several smaller eyes where eyebrows should have been. The upper half of her head was that of a ponkola, complete with horns; the lower half, beneath the slit-like nostrils, was like an insect, with a pair of huge mandibles covering a fanged, ponkola mouth, where there were two pairs of fangs: a pair pointing down and a pair pointing up, with the upper pair dripping a luminous red venom. By the time Spenthronsa had turned, Blakstar was running toward her head, and the closer he came, the brighter both his sword and his whole person glowed, like the sun had detached itself from the sky and flew toward her. His brightness caused her to hesitate for a moment only, but this
moment was time enough for him to get inside of her forelegs.

  As he ran forward, Blakstar heard Thal sing, “strelo-sporna-okwum!” A bolt of crackling, blue-white lightning shot past Blakstar’s shoulder, striking at the strange eyes of the sponsum queen. Spenthronsa reared back, but the bolt merely ricocheted off her eyes and shot skyward, striking the clouds and splitting into multiple forks that lit the sky above them.

  “Nice light show,” Klaybear quipped, “I’m sure she was impressed.”

  Thal shrugged. “No one mentioned lightning, so I thought I’d try.”

  “Better stick to ice,” Klaybear said, “since it slightly works, although you might be able to distract her,” he added, although his voice shook slightly.

  “Me too,” Thal noted, responding to Klaybear’s unspoken fear, “how did we get into this mess?”

  “You were chosen,” Delgart called back over his shoulder, causing them both to snort once. “Ice arrows, Thal,” he said.

  “Delgart,” Blakstar said, “take the left foreleg, Klaybear take the right; I’ll get her attention.”

  “This will be fun,” Klaybear replied sarcastically.

  “Pleugikel,” Thal sang, shooting an arrow of ice at the eyes.

  Blakstar fought past her huge mandibles, hoping to stab at the eyes, thinking them the weakest point, when Thal’s ice arrow flew past his head. Blakstar had just managed to beat one of the mandibles aside and was stepping in to strike as Thal’s arrow smashed into Spenthronsa’s eyes. The sponsum queen jerked her head up, chittering angrily, and the mandible that Blakstar had beaten aside caught his sword arm under his wrist, catching on the pommel and ripping will-giver out of his hand. For one brief moment, the sword continued to glow as it flew high into the air, but then the light went out and it was lost in the red darkness; the sound of screeching metal followed as the mandibles clamped around the kortexi lifting him into the air. Metal screeched again as the mandibles could not hold his weight, and his momentum carried him a little higher; he turned over once before he started to fall, striking the ground flat on his back with a resounding crash, and blacking out.

  Chapter 20

  We have learned by sad experience that Gar and his minions possess incredible powers to warp reality. This, however, may be an inexact description of what they do; from the perspective of the victim, reality appears to be warped around him or her, when what is actually happening is a warping of the victim’s perception and mind. . . . I think all would agree that this is Gar’s most dangerous power. . . .

  from Wisdom of the Kailum, attributed to Headmaster Sheldu, 961-1013

  “What orthek do you think we should try?” Klare asked.

  Rellik’s chief maghi thought for a moment before answering. “Since the idea is to blanket at large area around us quickly,” Hretha replied, “ray of cold, what you kailum call, I think, an ice beam, but it’s the same orthek,” she finished, looking for support from the others. After they all nodded, she went on. “How many should we try this first time?” she asked.

  Klare looked around at the captains and seconds, saw their hollow and tired faces, streaked with blood and dirt. “A wedge of ten, I think,” she replied, not surprised by the sharp intakes of breath or the muttering. “We do not have time to experiment,” she said over their murmurs, “and I assure you that breath-giver will be more than adequate. In fact, I want more of you ready to join us, once we see how this staff handles it.”

  They looked at her dumbfounded for a time before Hretha finally found her voice. “Are you mad?” she asked.

  Klare smiled weakly. “Perhaps,” she replied softly, “however, I don’t see any other choice.” She looked at them for a moment, and then added. “Are we not the Feragwen’s Seventh Legion?” she asked, watching while her question sank in, and when she saw their resolve beginning to firm up, she added, “then let us risk it, for our commanders’ sakes.” She sighed. “We must organize ourselves: the strongest and most experienced at the front, behind me, the less experienced toward the back.”

  Hretha started to organize them behind Klare, with herself and Kella’s chief kailu in the second row, three in the third, four in the fourth, for the first ten. “Everyone put one hand on the person in front, one on the person beside, with whoever is on the end switching, so that the line is unbroken, as is the connection to the row ahead of each line,” Hretha instructed. “When Klare signals, the fifth row join each other and then join the wedge together, and each succeeding row,” she finished, although her voice shook slightly.

  “We will have to sing the words in unison,” Klare stated, “and we will need to continue to stay together, repeating the words as we continue to wield the forces. When a new row joins, start singing at the beginning of the word. When we need to start moving, I will step forward and move slowly, so that we can stay together. Those who haven’t joined us should follow along, replacing anyone who fades or falls. If we have to stop, I will raise the staff up and point the beam at the sky: stop at the next end of the word. Please pay attention to me, because, as all of us have been taught, this action can go terribly wrong, so stay alert. If something does go wrong, those who haven’t joined us need to signal that we stop.” She looked at them once before turning and holding breath-giver up and ready.

  Rellik stood in front of her and smiled. “I hope this works,” he noted softly, so that only Klare could hear.

  “Me, too,” Klare whispered back.

  “Everyone know the orthek?” Rellik asked, grinning slightly.

  “That’s not funny, captain,” Hretha said.

  Rellik raised his hand; Klare felt two hands grip either shoulder and felt them both quivering, and although they had not begun the orthek, she could already feel the power building behind her and flowing through her; breath-giver flared alight with brilliant green light. Rellik had to shield his eyes for a moment before giving the signal; his raised hand fell suddenly, and as one, the ten tekson began to sing the word of power, “gwo-la-ge-lu,” slowly and with ascending notes, and they continued to sing the word over and over again. The staff’s green light flared more brightly, turning icy-blue, and a beam of cold, blue-white light shot from the hand-shaped head of the staff. Klare swung the staff and beam down toward the trees and the nearest of the sponsum. The seklesem, apprised ahead of time of what was planned, threw themselves down as they heard the ray of cold descending toward them, the blue-white beam making a sound like the howling of a blizzard as it passed through the air. Klare moved the ray of cold so that it struck the sponsum who had paused, wondering why the seklesem they had been fighting had thrown themselves to the ground; their enemies did not have time to learn why, for when the beam touched them, the sponsum were instantly frozen. One of the three was hanging by its thread from a tree, lowering itself to grab from above; the thread froze and shattered, and the sponsu fell to the ground and also shattered. Klare raked the beam across the trees where more of their enemies swarmed toward them, and the cold, blue-white ray turned trees and sponsum to ice, but the beam dimmed and almost went out after only moving through two trees filled with their enemies, so Klare nodded to Rellik.

  “Row five, join!” Rellik shouted, and five more tekson joined; power surged through breath-giver, the beam of cold brightening again and increasing in size. Klare’s smile widened for the pure joy of wielding so much power; she again raked the beam across more trees, freezing more of the sponsum and the trees, the ray so powerful that many of the trees and sponsum exploded if the beam lingered on them for more than a moment. The staff felt alive under her hands, accepting from her all the energy being channeled through her and drawing an equal amount from the air around them, and it wanted more, but she held off signaling for another row as she perceived another danger, deciding instead to begin moving around the perimeter to reach as many of the sponsum as she could before their combined energy expired. She took a single step forward, moving the staff and beam to her left, freezing and shattering trees and sponsum; she felt the
wedge of tekson move forward with her. Sweat beaded on her forehead; she swung the beam right, freezing and shattering more trees and sponsum as she took another step. The sweat slid down her cheeks; swing left, freezing and shattering trees and enemies, step, and swing right, more sweat running down her back; freezing trees and shattering sponsum, and their pace quickened as the wedge moved first east, then south, and Klare’s inner clothing became soaked with sweat. Their progress slowed, and then halted at the point directly toward Morokolu: whatever held and drained Marilee and drove the sponsum to attack prevented them from further progress. The blue-white ray of cold contacted a beam of red force that had been invisible until the cold beam touched it; sparks flashed and smoke boiled from the point of contact. Klare’s arms recoiled, thrown back at first by the repulsion acting between the two opposed teka forces; she brought the cold ray down again, and again, putting all the strength and energy of the fifteen of them into her swing, but each time white sparks and clouds of smoke resulted, but the blue beam could not cut through the red. In desperation, she nodded to Rellik, who hesitated until Klare nodded again with more urgency.