Alone, at least for the moment, Esán observed the area. Body language spoke volumes. The posturing that he might have found funny at another time highlighted the undercurrent of tension permeating the large garden. A serious game enacted by a serious group of players held everyone in check. He let his gaze wander. Dreelum strategically positioned around the garden intermingled with dignitaries from DerTah and elsewhere. Esán noted several women. Soldiers guarded all entrances.
Wolloh’s sightless eye found his corner. “Ah, my dear Tyro, join us.” He spoke from the midst of a group gathered near the garden’s center. “I have a special guest for you to meet.”
Esán wove his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the back of a tall man who wore power like most men wear their own skin. Authority hung, chiseled and sharp, around him. Everything—the way he moved his head, the wave of his hand, the carriage of his solid frame—suggested complete control. The set of his shoulders indicated a man used to getting his own way. He inclined his head as though listening. His laugh, hard-edged but full of charm, made several others in the room cast a furtive look in his direction.
Aha…Wolloh’s guest. Finally, I’ll find out who it is.
As though the man had heard his thoughts, he turned. Esán’s breath caught in his throat. Dark, penetrating eyes came to rest on his face. Red hair flashed in the light. He felt a trap ready to snap shut touching his mind. Sheer will power kept him still.
Wolloh’s voice at his side broke the spell. “Let me introduce you to my apprentice, Tyro Esán Efre.” The High DiMensioner’s good hand drew him forward. “Esán, this is the Largeen Joram of the planet of RewFaar and…” He paused, Esán felt sure, for dramatic effect. “…the grandfather of your friends, Brielle and Arienh AsTar.”
Esán’s defenses slammed into place around him as the tingle of a telepathic probe began for the second time. His eyes flashed with anger, but he held his ground.
“My apprentice does not appreciate having his mind probed, Lorsedi. Am I correct, Esán?” Wolloh’s complacent drawl almost made Esán smile.
He looked directly at the twins’ grandfather. “It is rude and uncalled for. If you have a question, sir, you only have to ask.”
Aware of the hush that engulfed the garden, he kept his eyes focused on the Largeen Joram’s face. Wolloh’s hand still rested on his arm, the fingers relaxed but firm. The tick of an old fashioned clock marked the slowed passage of time.
A sound filled with delight and discovery broke the tension as the Largeen Joram laughed wholeheartedly. “Well, boy, Wolloh told me you were full of surprises. It appears we will need to sit down and talk. I am most curious about my granddaughters. For now, let us call a truce and enjoy this gathering.” A smile warmed his dark eyes and dispersed the cool calculation that lurked there.
“As you wish, sir.” Esán turned to greet TheLise, whom Nomed had brought to his side. “Dreelas, it is a pleasure to see you.” He noted the warning in her smile.
“And you, young Tyro. Please introduce me to your new acquaintance.” She bathed the twins’ grandfather in the fullness of her electrifying charm.
Wolloh took charge, allowing Esán to fade from the foreground of the man’s attention. “Dreelas TheLise of the Sea of Trinuge, may I present the Largeen Joram of RewFaar. Lorsedi…TheLise.”
The abundance of red hair flared as the leader of RewFaar clicked his heels together in a military salute and bowed over TheLise’s outstretched hand. “Tinpaca Granier told me of your great charm and your beauty. He did not do you justice.”
A smile, both cool and enticing, accompanied her response. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lorsedi. Welcome to DerTah.”
“And this is Seyes Nomed, Esán’s uncle.” Wolloh’s misshapen face caught the light as he introduced his former apprentice.
Esán observed the twins’ grandfather change tack as he switched his focus to Nomed. His fair face with its sprinkling of freckles became more intense. Ruggedly handsome features morphed from charm to conjecture. Taller than Nomed, he gazed down at him with interest. “I understand you have recently spent time on Myrrh.”
Nomed shook his offered hand. “I have. Are you looking to travel there?”
“Perhaps.” The noncommittal reply masked an interest expressed more fully in his next question. “I believe you have met my granddaughters?”
Esán made his way toward the door. Lorsedi’s power, a vibrant and subtle threat to his defenses, followed him. Holding his thoughts in tight control, he conversed with Baroh and paid his respects to Omudi. Behind him fragments of conversation held him captive. He glanced over his shoulder.
“How did you find the twins?” Nomed’s question seemed casual enough, but Esán knew better.
The Largeen Joram let his eyes roam the room. For a brief moment, they lingered on his face. Speculation curved his stern mouth into a smile before he returned his attention to Nomed. “What do you know of Elcaro’s Eye?”
Esán felt Lorsedi’s focus shift like a release from bondage. Relief almost made his knees weak. He nodded to the RewFaaran soldier stationed at the door and was about to slip out of the inner garden into the late afternoon heat when a languid voice brought him up short.
“Ah, there you are, Father.”
Esán pivoted slowly, letting his gaze scan the room until it came to rest on a tall man who had joined the group around Lorsedi. His hawkish face bore a slight resemblance to the Largeen Joram. Any similarity ended there. Military cut black hair and a deep tan made blue eyes, as cold as the ice on a mountain stream, appear even colder. A well-trimmed mustache curved over a tight-lipped mouth, down his cheeks where his laugh lines might have been, and connected to a square-cut, black beard, which ended slightly below his chin. The whole effect gave his face a sinister and intimidating appearance. Esán glanced around the room. No one else seemed to notice the hatred roiling around the man like waves in a tumultuous sea. He inched closer.
Lorsedi’s eyes narrowed. He acknowledged the man with a nod. “This is my son, Nissasa Rattori.”
With a cool bow, Nissasa acknowledged Wolloh. Holding TheLise’s hand to his lips, he gave her a lascivious smile, which Esán noted was not received with the Dreelas’ usual charm. Finally, he shook Nomed’s hand. “Was that your nephew? The one everybody is so excited about?”
Esán did not stay to hear Nomed’s reply. Making his way unobtrusively out of the inner garden, he stood for a moment, carefully masking his thoughts. Where can I go to think? Not my room. Not the library . He kept his conscious mind focused on the drop of the sun behind a dune and the gradual diffusion of light. Ahhh .
In a heartbeat, he arrived in the small, dark room he had discovered during training that morning. An oil lamp softened the edges of a rough-hewn table, where a pitcher of water and a small glass glowed in its warmth.
He pulled out the wooden chair and sank onto it. His mind, unbound, ran a speculative race through recent events. The Largeen Joram wants very much to find the twins . Elbows on the table, chin resting in his hands, he stared at the flame in the lamp. The question is whether they want to be found? His instincts shouted no. He pondered his final few minutes at the party. Nissasa Rattori was the man with Gidtuss, the man who wants to kidnap me . Clarity hit like a blast of cold air. Lorsedi might be a threat to the twins, but Nissasa was by far the greater menace. Danger bristled around him like the quills on a taccus tree—danger for anyone who got in his way and extreme danger for himself and for Ari and Brie. That certainty left him breathless. I wish I knew more about RewFaar. I wish I knew why the Largeen Joram is interested in Elcaro’s Eye. More than anything, I wish I knew Nissasa Rattori’s game.
His hand traced the crown of his head. The prickle of short hair on his palm arrested the movement. He still looked gaunt and far too thin, but he felt healthy. The disease that had tormented his body on Thera seemed to be in remission on DerTah—at least for now.
Sitting back in the chair, he murmured, “What’s my next step? I sure wish Corvus
were here.” A sigh lost itself in the shadowy interior of the room. He reached for the pitcher of water. Beneath his hovering hand, an envelope materialized on the aged wood of the tabletop. He traced the four hand-printed letters…ESÁN . Curious but cautious, he picked it up and opened the flap. Inside he discovered a single folded sheet of paper. Pulling it free, he opened it and read… WARN YOUR FRIENDS. TAKE SEVAL. DISAPPEAR . After he read it a second time, it shredded into tiny pieces and vanished.
Who do you suppose—? Breathing in the darkness behind him made him jump to his feet. A hand clapped over his mouth.
20
ConDra’s Fire
Myrrh & Thera
I n Vascorrie, Karrew led the winged-ones in an ever-widening circle upwards. His goal…lead them away from Sparrow and Merrilea. Cackled ravings and murderous mutterings trailed after him. All I need is to be eaten by a batch of primavers. Only five inches tall, these tiny, humanesque creatures with bat wings and a rat’s tail and ears had mouths full of razor-sharp teeth that could devour a man’s flesh in no time. He didn’t want to think about how fast they could feed on a raven.
Soaring higher, he shot behind a stout stalactite and landed on a well-hidden ledge, where darkness formed a curtain of protection around him. The Primavers began a gradual resettling. When sounds in the cavern had returned to the drip, drop, drip of mineral-filled water, he flew in silence to where Sparrow and Merrilea crouched in the dark.
A muffled caw warned them of his return. “I’m here a short distance in front of you,” he croaked beneath the sounds of water. “Don’t put on the lite-stick, or we won’t make it out of here.” He hopped closer. “Follow my exact path—no deviations. These pools contain their own set of nightmares.”
“Karrew, I can’t see you.” Panic tinged Merrilea’s breathless whisper.
Sparrow whispered in her ear. “I can see him, Merri. Just hold onto my pack.” Avoiding a water hole, Sparrow sidled in front of her.
Karrew hopped between pools, relieved that Sparrow had discovered her ability to see him against the black of the cavern. Keeping them on track was vital. One false step…
“Karrew, can you hear me? It’s Sparrow.”
He paused to look back at her with one shiny eye. “So you’ve discovered your telepathic voice, too.”
“How long?”
“Too long if we don’t keep going .” He could hear the distant murmuring of primavers preparing to take flight.
“I hear it, too. Hurry!”
Karrew picked up his pace. The entrance and the open air that would be their salvation seemed almost too far away.
A splash…a muffled oath…
“Sparrow?”
“Merrilea stumbled. She’s fine.”
“Did she disturb a pool?”
“Yes.”
Karrew ruffled his feathers in lieu of a groan. “What rotten luck.”
“Karrew?”
“Move away from that pool.” He led them around a group of smaller stalagmites to an open space where he hoped they would be safe. “I don’t want to leave you, but I need to scout ahead.”
“Something’s following,” Merrilea whispered. “It sounds like it’s sniffing.”
“Got any food in your pack? Smelly cheese or something with a strong odor?”
“Mira packed goat cheese. Will that do?” Sparrow fumbled around in Merrilea’s pack. “Found it.”
“Scatter it around and then come this way.” He half flew, half hopped in front of them for several yards and stopped. “Let’s hope that obscures your scent.”
“Karrew, the primavers are on the move.”
“So, my dear, are the tarwish, and I’m not sure which is worse.”
At the RewFaarans’ camp, One Man pretended to sleep as a soldier entered the tent. A tentative hand shook him. He yawned and opened his eyes.
Inexperience clung to the young man like a cloud. He cleared his throat, began to speak, and cleared it again. “I-I am…” He coughed. “You have to answer my questions,” he barked with a lack of authority that made him blush.
Sitting upright in his chair, One Man raised dulled eyes to his face. “I took a walk into my memories and look where it got me. There’s nothing to tell.” He made himself seem small and tired.
The soldier rubbed his chin. “How many were with you?” he blurted out.
Allowing a crooked, almost dreamy smile to play across his face, One Man answered, “Just me, son, me and my past.”
An officer marched into the tent. “What have you learned?” He addressed his question to his underling but glared at One Man.
The young soldier snapped to attention. “Only that he says he was alone, sir.”
The officer studied One Man’s placid countenance.
“The boy’s right, sir,” babbled One Man. “I can’t tell other than what is. ’Specially, I can’t tell you what’s…”
A hard look shut him up. He painted a harried expression across his face and slumped against the chair.
The officer strode to the door. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” he snapped and exited.
The young soldier stared after him. When he turned back, relief made his features appear even younger and more inexperienced.
One Man remained non-threatening. “You must be pretty good since he trusts ya to watch me.” His voice held just the right degree of awe.
The soldier bristled with self-importance and sat down on a chair inside the tent flap. “Don’t try anything.” He gave him a fierce look and stifled a yawn.
“Since I’m trussed to this chair, I imagine I won’t go far.” One Man dropped his chin to his chest. Through half closed eyes, he watched the soldier slip into sleep, jerk awake, and finally settle into a comfortable, rhythmic snore.
Sloughing off the ropes at his wrists, he made quick work of the knots at his ankles. Silent as a cat, he padded to the soldier’s side and placed hands on his temples. The boy dropped into a deeper sleep, one that would last well into the night.
Making a quick mind search of the camp, One Man discovered the location of its headquarters. A thought propelled him through the dusk-lit trees to a large tent, where he listened to the three-way conversation, taking place inside.
“All the men are back,” a voice reported. “They found nothing to indicate anyone accompanied him.”
A younger voice interjected. “I found this piece of fabric caught between two rocks. It doesn’t appear to belong to the prisoner.”
One Man’s quick mind assessed his options. If his luck held, they wouldn’t check, at least not immediately. He continued to listen.
“Did you find anything else to indicate a companion?”
“No, sir. Nothing. The tunnel was empty, and we found no one on or near the rockslide.”
A murmured conversation ended in the dismissal of the younger man.
After he departed, the voices continued. “It appears this man may not be one of the ones we are looking for, but keep him under guard for now. Tell your men to stay alert. It never pays to fall into disfavor with the Largeen Joram.”
One Man felt a faint mind touch. “Sparrow? ”
“Primavers . Help! ” The urgent appeal faded in and out.
One Man dissolved into shadow and slipped through the trees. He knew of Vascorrie, the den of the primavers. He hoped he could reach it in time.
Paisley leaned on the gate to the stall where the RewFaaran Grantese was bond to a chair and observed him with interest. He seemed unafraid. Bloodshot eyes were the only indication that he had experienced stress of any kind.
“What’s RewFaar like?” he asked.
“It is a planet of great beauty. Our mountains are wilder and more desolate than your Dojanacks. There are many rivers and lakes. Rainforests cover large portions of the planet’s lower hemisphere, while open plains stretch across the north. It is much bigger than Thera with less ocean and more land mass.”
Paisley twisted the end of his mustache around his finge
r, an engrained habit. “I always lived in Myrrh. Travelin’ from dimension t’ dimension isn’t somethin’ I’d care t’ try.”
Tesilend shrugged. “You get used to it.”
An easy silence settled between them. Paisley broke it. “Can I get ya water or anythin’?”
“I could use a drink.”
“I’ll get you a bite t’ eat as well.” Paisley tested the knots at his ankles and wrists before exiting the stall. Not wanting to leave his post for longer than necessary, he strode through the barn into the garden. Gooseflesh prickling up the back of his neck made him stop to survey the area. Unsatisfied and even more uneasy, he looked back at the barn and up at the sky. A vulture reached the apex of a high arc and dropped toward Almiralyn’s cottage. Its silent speed bespoke trouble.
Almiralyn crossed the garden to stand at his side. “Well, our moment of respite is over, my friend. I imagine we have company.”
Yuin materialized as soon as his vulture talons touched the ground. “A platoon of infantry soldiers came though the portal. They’re on foot and traveling this way. They mean business, Almiralyn. You can’t stay here.”
“I’m ready to leave. I have one thing to do with Grantese Tesilend before we go. But first, we need to release the animals.”
“How much time do we have,” asked Paisley.
“Moving at their current pace, they should be here in less than a quarter turn of the chronometer. We must be gone when they arrive, so we need to hurry.” She led the way toward the barn. “Yuin, check on the Grantese. We’ll be with you shortly. Come on, Paisley. Let’s get the animals moving.”
Paisley followed. How will I escape? Can’t shift shape…can’t outrun ’em… He pushed his fear to the back of his mind. It wouldn’t help him face what was to come.
Almiralyn paused at the barn door. Shielding her eyes with a hand, she searched the thick border of trees at the edge of the Terces Wood. The unusual stillness heightened her sense of urgency. Even the activity of the creatures that called it home had ceased. Where are Lorsedi’s men? With so little time, how can I make sure everyone is safe? She glanced up at Paisley’s worried face and walked briskly to Gemlucky’s stall. Strength and intelligence gleamed in the big stallion’s eyes. “You, my friend, must take care of the other horses.”
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 16