Allynae had spent the better part of the turning tied to a pole in the scorching desert sun. A feeble tug at his bonds left him frustrated and even more disheartened. I need water. And I need to see . He tried to lift his head. The effort required almost more energy than he could muster.
As the coolness of dusk dried the sweat on his body and night’s creeping cold began a slow crawl over his exposed skin, a pebble struck the ground at his feet. Rough hands untied him from the pole and held him steady. A second pair tested the ropes lashing his wrists together in front of him and then grabbed his arm. In total silence, his captors dragged him up a steep trail.
Blinded by the bag covering his head, he stumbled over the rocky terrain. Sharp stone cut the soles of his bare feet. He clenched his teeth around the pain and wished they would reach their destination.
The smell of Human sweat and a low murmured-mix of voices alerted him to the presence of others. Brought to a standstill, he strained to hear or smell anything that would give him a clue to his surroundings. The strong hands gripping his arms tightened. A menacing quiet settled around him. The smell of wood smoke and the warmth of a fire at his back soaked up the cold of the encroaching desert night but did nothing to assuage his growing apprehension.
The bag, yanked from his head without warning, left him blinking back tears and confusion. He squinted, straining to clear his vision. A narrow, dark face made more threatening by the flicker of flames, loomed inches from his. Wild black hair, a long, filthy beard, and eyes filled with a fanatical gleam sent goose bumps flying over his skin.
Rapid blinking brought the face into clearer focus. Tattooed on the man’s forehead was the Oracle Stone. Hope evaporated. I’m as good as gone. These aren’t RewFaaran or Sebborr. They aren't even Atrilaasu . He stared at the tattoo. The LaTiru of the Oracle Stone were a small, uncivilized tribe of scavengers who roamed the desert, making blood sacrifices to their deities.
The man held up a long knife. Around them his followers cheered. At his signal, they grew still. Anticipation and excitement bristled through their midst.
The leader sheathed his weapon and jerked the gag from Allynae’s mouth. “Speak, thief. Tell us where you’ve hidden WoNadahem Mardree. Tell us or roast in SeDah.”
Allynae tried to moisten his lips with a dried and swollen tongue. His throat, raw from heat and lack of water, made it difficult to form words. “Water,” he choked. “Can’t speak.” He coughed and savored the one-drop of spittle it produced.
“Water!” shouted the leader.
A tribesman detached himself from the crowd and tossed a water bag. Catching it by the neck, the leader held it above his head and rotated slowly. With a vicious laugh, he took a drink, smacked his lips, and let the water drip down his beard and onto his ragged kcalo. “Ahhhhh…”
The crowd chanted and pushed closer. “Water, water, water.”
Again, he tipped the bag up. A stream of water shot into his mouth. He swished it around, held it in puffed cheeks, and spewed the contents in Allynae’s face.
A laugh rustled through the crowd as he corked the bag. Grinning, he lobbed it to the man who had produced it and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Answer or die, thief.”
Allynae’s tongue sought the splatter of liquid and drew what it could capture into his mouth. “I am Allynae, brother of Almiralyn, Guardian of Myrrh,” he croaked and licked his lips in search of more moisture.
The tribesmen shuffled their feet and muttered. A minute change of expression on the leader’s face encouraged Allynae to continue. “Let me go, and my friends and I will find and rescue the Atrilaasu Oracle.”
A soft rush of cool air and the alarm on the face of the LaTiru leader made the men on either side of Allynae stiffen. He glanced over his shoulder. His knees went weak with relief.
One Man’s shift to human form beside the fire had the effect he desired. LaTiru scrambled backwards. The two guarding Allynae whipped their heads around. Their leader reached for his knife.
One Man stayed his hand with a look. A spark of fear flitted across the man’s face. The tribal members retreated further from the fire.
“I am One Man, the Guardian of Myrrh’s ambassador. What Allynae says is true. Do you wish to anger the Guardian, who is his sister and WoNa’s friend?” He paused to let the words sink in.
A large raven landed on his shoulder. Marcasite hard eyes glinted in the firelight. “I am Karrew, the protector of Almiralyn, the Guardian of Myrrh and friend of WoNa. This is my lady’s message. ‘Release my brother and remain at peace with me. Sacrifice him, and I will judge you as I will judge those who kidnapped WoNadahem Mardree.’”
Hatred filled the leader’s grimy face. His lip curled, displaying decayed teeth. Letting out a long hiss, he slid his knife beneath the ropes binding Allynae’s wrists. One quick cut scattered them on the ground. “Tell the Guardian her brother is free.” He spat out the words. A wad of sputum followed, splattering at Allynae’s feet. “Tell her that if he fails to rescue the Atrilaasu Oracle, another will die in his place.”
The circle parted. A tribesman dumped a kcalo-covered body on the ground. Nichi raised terrified eyes to One Man’s face.
“You would harm one of the Oracle’s chosen children?” Karrew cawed.
“If the Oracle is not rescued, this girl dies.”
One Man stroked the raven’s breast. “Deliver the message, Karrew. Tell Almiralyn we will seek those who kidnapped WoNa.”
The large bird cawed and lifted into flight, his dark feathers blending with the night.
Narrtep walked into the ring of firelight and hurried to Allynae’s side. He offered a water bag. “Drink slowly, friend.”
Corvus joined them, placing himself between Allynae and the LaTiru leader.
One Man knelt and wrapped his arms around Nichi. “We will not fail.”
She hugged him. “Save WoNa.” The small snake slithered from her sleeve down the neck of his kcalo. “WoNa need snake,” she whispered.
He helped her to her feet and looked at the leader. “Where will we find you?”
The man grasped Nichi by the arm and passed her to one of the women in the circle. “When the Oracle is safe, we find you.” With a wave of his hand, the LaTiru tribe disappeared into the night, leaving only the fire as a reminder that they had been there.
Lorsedi hesitated outside the door to the room off the library where Desirol waited. Many moon cycles had passed and much had occurred since he had last seen his youngest and favorite son. Allowing himself a moment to prepare for the reunion, he reviewed the circumstances that had brought him to this juncture.
He had chosen Desirol to rule instead of Nissasa because of his more developed sense of right and his potential to become a fine strategist. When he disappeared, he left no hint of where he had gone or why. Although suspecting Nissasa, Lorsedi could find nothing to prove his involvement. After a long and disheartening search, he had finally called a halt.
Explaining first his disappearance and then the termination of the hunt to his mother had been especially difficult. Chyneria was the only woman with whom he had shared time after his joining to Gerolyn. He had chosen her because she was so different from the woman to whom he had given his heart. Chyneria was petite where Gerolyn was tall. Her hair was dusty brown with no hint of the rich, chestnut luster of Gerolyn’s, and her eyes were the soft, tawny brown of a RewFaaran zeegell. With the exception of the intelligence they shared, Chyneria was everything Gerolyn was not—and vice versa.
When it became clear that Nissasa could not rule and he must sire another son, he chose her. Unwilling to dissemble, he had told her of his love for Gerolyn. She had never questioned it or doubted the depth of his feelings for her. After Desirol’s birth, they continued to spend time together, sharing their delight in the son they had created. With luck he would be able to take Desirol home to RewFaar and the mother who cherished him beyond measure.
Clearing his mind of the past, he turned the doorknob
and stepped into the present. Dark eyes, huge in a fair-skinned face, widened. Auburn hair, much longer than Lorsedi remembered, brushed the broad shoulders of a boy well on his way to manhood. The youngster of his memory was not the young man standing in front of him. The innocence once so prevalent in the face and eyes had been replaced with the scars of tragedy and loss. My dearest son, what have they done to you?
Desirol stared at his father, afraid if he moved the man in front of him would disappear like the demise of a dream. I couldn’t remember the handsome ruggedness of the face, the blaze of red hair, the kindness in the eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to speak.
Two long strides brought his father to his side. The arms embracing him were strong, the chest well muscled and broad, and the hand stroking his hair filled him with the knowledge that he had always been loved. His father held him at arm’s length and studied his face. “I have missed you more than you can imagine.”
Desirol soaked up the words and reveled in the deep timbre of the sound. As much as he wanted to remain cool and mature, emotions stripped him of breath and voice. How could I have forgotten the loving man who raised me? A flash flood of memories left him trembling. Teardrops heralded a choked sob. “I’m sorry, Father, I…”
Strong hands caught him as his knees gave way and guided him to a chair. Sitting opposite him, Lorsedi gently enclosed his trembling hands in his steady ones. “Tears are not signs of weakness, my son. They are salve in the wounds of the heart. I have been told what happened to you. When you are ready, I would hear your story from you.”
Desirol accepted the handkerchief his father offered. Taking time to compose himself, he dried his tears and refolded it in a neat square. “Things are moving very fast, Father. I think I should tell you now. We may not have an opportunity again soon.”
Lorsedi nodded and gave him an encouraging smile.
Desirol told his story, at least what he could remember of it. Some parts were sketchier than others, but the part Nissasa had played was clear. He left nothing out—not even his own erratic behavior at the ruins. When he was done, he sat back in his chair and let out an expansive sigh. Telling it had lifted a weight from his shoulders. From the expression on his father’s face, he knew that Lorsedi had taken on the burden of retribution. Nissasa would soon feel the full power of his father’s wrath.
Wolloh soared above the ranch, his osprey body shrouded in night. Below him Nissasa’s troops could be seen stationed along the desert border of Shu Chenaro. DerTah’s buttery moon, Fasfro, crested the eastern horizon, heralding the imminent arrival of her two sister moons. The beauty of the celestial trio had been one of the deciding factors in his decision to take up residence in DerTah. Tonight, however, he would have foregone their beauty for a cover of clouds.
He crossed into Fera Finnero and increased his speed. An urgent need to reach his destination and return to the ranch before daybreak kept his focus sharp. Near the border Nissasa’s traitors gathered. The quiet of their camp told him an assault on Shu Chenaro would not begin until morning.
Swooping in a wide arc, he scanned the desert for signs of life…the Sebborr…the LaTiru. He let his senses roam the sands. When I find Nissasa, WoNa will be close by . The glow of a fire and the shadowed shapes of tents nestled at the base of a desert plateau lured him to a lower altitude. He landed a good distance from the camp, shifted, dropped to his knee behind a stocky taccus tree, and sent out a subtle probe. Nissasa has done his work well. Gidtuss’ Fire ConDra are posted on all sides of the camp, and the protective wards at the entrance to WoNa’s prison quivered with power.
A quick thought and he again assumed his osprey form. Lifting into flight, he made for Eissua Oasis. One Man and Corvus will benefit from the information I’ve gathered. It will increase their chances of a successful rescue and decrease the time needed to accomplish it . Impatience tempted him to land and teleport. Nissasa’s heightened power kept him in the air. Osprey wings carried him with good speed. He would reach the oasis long before daybreak.
When it finally came into view, he coasted to a landing near Narrtep’s tent and shifted. A probe informed him three men rested inside. The tent flap flipped open. A man appeared, his eyes scanning the oasis. Narrtep appeared behind him. Wolloh stepped from a group of palms into the golden light of Fasfro and that of her sister’s cool blue. Narrtep whispered and withdrew.
The man crossed the sand, his silver blond hair glistening and his blue eyes filled with moonlight. “I’m One Man, Esán’s father. Please come in and join us, High DiMensioner od DerTah.”
Wolloh preceded him to the tent. Narrtep closed the flap behind them. The third occupant sat in the circle of dim light cast by a small oil lamp. Wolloh noted the blistered lips and feet wrapped in torn strips of cloth. Choosing not to play games, he faced the man squarely.
Narrtep introduced him. “This is Wolloh, High DiMensioner od DerTah.”
Allynae studied the man with interest. He had heard so much about Nomed’s mentor that it was difficult to respond to him without a preconceived bias. One Man pulled up a cushion and Narrtep provided Wolloh with a chair before he spoke. “I apologize for not getting up. I’m Allynae, but you know that already, don’t you?”
The man smiled and settled his body on the chair. “I am glad to see you safe, Allynae. And Corvus?”
Allynae noted the turn of his head as his good eye searched the tent. “Patrolling the area. But you know that, as well.”
The smooth side of the High DiMensioner’s face caught the light. “I am here as a friend, yours and your sister’s. Nissasa and the Sebborr are east of here. Fire ConDra guard the camp. WoNa is imprisoned within a cave under a plateau. Nissasa has put up wards at the entrance to her prison. Tampering with the shields will alert Nissasa to your presence. I have come to offer you a way into the cave without disturbing his wards—and also a gift for WoNa when you find her.”
Allynae let his chagrin show on his face. “I apologize. My negative bias toward Nomed has colored my view of you. I…we thank you for risking a trip through the desert to warn us.”
The cool intelligence in the dark eye held a glint of light. “The Unfolding is at work, brother of Almiralyn. You will feel the force of it before its cycle is complete. I believe we had better move quickly if you are to rescue WoNa.”
One Man adjusted his cushion to face Wolloh. “Tell us about the Fire ConDra.”
“Fire ConDra are sluggish at night. The heat of their fire is tied to the heat of the sun. Although they can and do rise if threatened, their fire, like the desert night, will remain cool until the sun crests the horizon. To minimize the risk of detection and death by the ConDra’s fire, you must perform your rescue before the sun rises.”
The High DiMensioner withdrew his hand, which he had pocketed upon sitting, and held it out. A crystal rested on his palm. “This is from the Evolsefil Caverns on Tao Spirian. It carries the signature of the Evolsefil Crystal’s power and connects to Elcaro’s Eye and any other crystal mined from there. Since Nissasa has stolen the Oracle Stone, also from the caverns, it will not trigger an alarm. One of you must enter the perimeter of the wards with the crystal. As soon as you are through, place it on WoNa’s forehead. It will free her from total blindness, which is keeping her in a state of stasis. She will be able to use it, with your help, to get you away safely. You must hurry. If Nissasa is the first to awaken her, she will be under his control.”
Allynae took the crystal and cradled it in his hands. Its power prickled up his arms. He handed it to One Man. “You are a better guardian for this.”
One Man held it to the light, smiled, and slipped it into a pouch at his waist. “As soon as Corvus finishes his patrol, we’ll head out. Thank you again for the warning and the information.”
“Before you go,” Allynae said, “please tell us about our children.”
Wolloh’s face softened. “All the children are at Shu Chenaro. For how long, I don’t know. They are not safe there as long as Nissasa i
s at large. Your son, as you know, One Man, carries dual seeds of Carsilem. He is learning about his gifts, but he needs coaching if he is to attain his true potential. As for the twins,” his gaze rested on Allynae, “they are well. Brie’s talents are many. She, too, must be coached. Ari remains in her Ira form. Her talents are very different from her sister’s but equally strong. It will be interesting to see what she chooses to do. Their friend, Torgin continues to surprise himself and everyone else. I like him.”
Allynae’s parched lips spread into a smile, the first, he realized, since his capture. “Thank you, Wolloh, for protecting them.”
Wolloh eased his body from the chair. “I must return to the ranch. At daybreak, Nissasa’s troops will begin their attack. If they get too close, I will remove the children from harm’s way. Once WoNa is safe, come to me there.” A feathered eyebrow above an opaque eye pulled down, furrowing his brow.
Moving more quickly than Allynae thought possible with his maimed leg, Wolloh crossed the tent, threw open the flap, and stepped out under the three moons of DerTah. Before anyone could say good-bye, he shifted and lifted into the air. His osprey body, graceful and unhindered by his Human disfigurement, soared upward, following the ascending path of the moons toward Shu Chenaro.
52
ConDra’s Fire
Myrrh
K arrew winged his way through the desert night to the Nervac Portal. Although he had been away from his mistress for short periods in the past, the length of this separation was taking its toll. He understood her need to have him in DerTah, but his heartache grew more intense with each sun turning.
Skirting the RewFaaran camp, he swooped into the gateway. The power of the spinning vortex sped him through the tunnel and deposited him at its anchor point in the Dojanack Caverns, where two DeoNyte guards barred his way. He landed and croaked… “Karrew. I have a message for the Guardian.”
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 43