The UnFolding Collection Three

by S. K. Randolph

  Easing Desirol’s still form to the ground, she scrambled up and hurried to where the boys had just finished tying a weather blanket between two long branches. “They’ve joined forces.”

  Torgin’s whipped around. “Who?” His eyes betrayed immediate understanding.

  “The Mindeco and the Astican. That’s what the creature calls itself, an Astican.”

  Esán’s pale complexion turned ashen. “An Astican is a Davea creature raised during the Time of StyLacca on the Outer Rim planet of TreBlaya. I’m betting this one is controlled by the Mocendi League, maybe even The MasTer. We can’t hope to fight it and the Mindeco.”

  “Where’d you learn that little tidbit of information?” Ira’s gaze flicked over the surrounding hills.

  “In a book I found in Wolloh’s library. Come on. Let’s load up Des and go. We have to find a place to hide. One which will keep us from detection by either of the creatures.”

  Torgin helped Ira lift Desirol onto the makeshift stretcher. “How bad is an Astican?”

  “Worse than a Mindeco.” Esán threw a weather blanket over the unconscious boy and grabbed his pack.

  Ira and Torgin shouldered theirs and lifted the stretcher. “Suggested hiding place?” Ira asked.

  Esán frowned. “I wish I knew for sure. Water is about the only place that might work.” He took the lead with Brie. A glance at her expression told him she knew the full power of their enemies. She knew, and so did he, that their chances of finding a hiding place were slim to nonexistent.

  Keeping his gaze glued to Esán and Brie, Torgin slogged through harvested fields, glad for the dimness of dawn but wishing for enough light to find a less treacherous path. His arms already ached from maneuvering the awkward stretcher. Behind him, Ira muttered under his breath about the idiocy of RewFaarans and how much he would like to be anywhere but DerTah.

  Bet there are worse places. Torgin grimaced at the thought. This adventure is frightening enough right here—right now. Sure wish we could find my mother and go home.

  Esán held up a hand for a halt and scouted further ahead. Torgin glanced back and at a nod from Ira lowered the stretcher to the ground. Slipping his pack off, he tried to rub the stiffness from his low back.

  Esán retraced his steps and paused by Brie. After a brief conversation, he made his way through loose-packed dirt and dried stalks to the stretcher and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Found what looks like a track made by wagon wheels. It parallels that row of trees. We’re headed roughly southeast toward Atkis. Your guess is as good as mine how long it will take to get there.” He indicated Desirol. “Want me to take a turn.”

  Ira rubbed the tip of his finger and kicked a clod of dirt. “Nope. Torgin and I are stronger than you. ’Course, you could use a bit of your DiMensioner stuff…” He looked hopeful.

  Esán sighed. “Wish I could, but we don’t want to call our enemies to us, do we?”

  Another clod of dirt exploded into bits of dust. “Guess not.” Ira glanced down at his drango boots. “Sure wish Des had left on the drango tunic and boots WoNa gave him. If he had, we might not be in this mess. Hey, what if I exchange clothes with him. Would that mute his energetic signature?”

  Brie joined them. “It would, but it would also leave you unprotected.”

  Ira persisted. “But if it worked, we’d all be safer, right?”

  Torgin knelt beside Desirol and pulled back the weather blanket. “I bet we wear the same size boots.” He removed one of Desirol’s and placed it next to his foot. “See. I’ll give him my boots, and Ira can give him his tunic because they’re similar in size. That way we’ll still have some protection. What do you think?”

  Brie and Esán looked at each other. Esán nodded. “We think it will obscure his signature and buy us some time.”

  “Wish you two would talk out loud.” Torgin pulled off Desirol’s second boot and removed his. “It’s just rude. Like speaking RewFaaran when you know everyone in the room only speaks Theran.”

  Ira began to undo the laces on the side of his tunic. “Good job, Torg, on both counts—a good plan and the telepathy thing.”

  Brie grinned at Ira and knelt to help Torgin put his drango boots on Desirol. “I apologize to both of you. It’s just so natural to use telepathy with each other that we forget. There.” She patted Desirol’s foot and scooted around to give Torgin a quick hug. “Forgiven?”

  He laughed and hugged her back. “Of course. I just like to know what’s going on.”

  Esán joined. “We’ll do our best to remember to include you.”

  Silence reigned as they exchanged Desirol’s jacket for Ira’s tunic.

  The jacket’s perfect fit made Ira grin. “I look like a RewFaaran, huh?”

  “Right.” Torgin stamped his feet. “RewFaaran boots aren’t nearly as comfortable as drango hide.”

  Brie cast a nervous glance over the rolling hills. “We’d better go.” She grabbed Esán’s hand and trudged down the rutted track.

  Ira sobered and squatted to grip the rough wood of the stretcher. “Ready, Torg?”

  In unison they lifted, struggled to get in step, and labored after their friends. Torgin found himself establishing the cadence and rhythm of Idronatti’s exercise march. Wonder what I’d be doing if I were at home? Composing music, going to the Ed Center, practicing on my keyboard or my flute— He glanced down. “Hey, where’s One Man’s flute?”

  Esán paused and held it up. “Sorry. Thought you knew I had it.”

  The moment of panic subsided. “Thanks.” He scanned his memories. A clear image of Esán picking it up after he and Ira had finished dressing, a clear image of— “What on Thera…” He stopped abruptly. The stretcher bumped into his thighs. Ira swore.

  “Put the stretcher down, Ira. Esán, Brielle…” He kept his voice low.

  When they reached his side, he whispered. “Someone just put a picture in my mind—a tall cliff—me at the edge—me falling. It wasn’t my memory.”

  Esán gripped his arm. “What did you do?”

  Torgin wrinkled his brow. The furrows deepened. “I blanked my mind and called you.”

  “What happened to the image?”

  “Blinked out like a light. There one moment, gone the next.”

  Brie squeezed his hand. Esán smiled. “You did great.”

  Ira looked at Esán. “What’s it mean?”

  “It means our ‘friends’ are searching. Our little trick must be working, or they wouldn’t need to use a probe. Quiet your minds. Stay as close to the trees as you can.”

  They continued in silence. Torgin held his thoughts in check. Clearly he didn’t have the talent to use telepathy, but it could be used on him. He shivered and kept marching, marching in RewFaaran boots on the planet of DerTah through the province of Trinuge, marching— He gasped.

  “What the—” yelled Ira.

  Esán turned, his face blank.

  Brie had disappeared.

  Henri woke early to the sounds of the waterfall and the quiet giggles of children. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the rounded ceiling of her tent. Brie’s essence, though faint, still hung in the air. My great niece… Closing her eyes she let her mind journey. What she discovered made her stiffen. Mindeco and Astican. Keep your wits about you, girl.

  Shoving the woven blanket to one side, she sat up and allowed her body to find its equilibrium in the vertical world. She stretched and crossed to the wash stand. A small hand mirror glowed in the faint light. She held it up, examined lines around her eyes and mouth and the thick white, curly hair sticking out in odd directions. Humor lit her violet eyes. Ah, life .

  The need to be on the move replaced her morning lassitude. Within a short time, she stood at the center of the tent, dressed in a sand-red kcalo provided by the Atrilaasu.

  A soft voice called, “May I come?”

  Henri pulled the tent flap to one side to find Nichi holding a tray.

  “Mother sent you breakfast.” She set it on a smal
l table. “WoNa will be ready by the time you finish. You know our Water ConDria, don’t you?”

  Henri smiled. “She’s my great niece.”

  Niche’s eyes glowed. “Water ConDria save the Atrilaasu from Fire ConDra. We very happy she on DerTah. You bring her back to us?”

  “I will go to her soon. Now I must eat. Thank your mother for me.”

  The young girl flashed her a smile and departed.

  By the time Henri had completed her repast, Narrtep arrived to escort her to WoNa’s cave. He offered his arm and matched his stride to hers. A trek over sand should have been fatiguing for a woman of her apparent age. She savored the fact that appearances could be deceiving and took in the beauty of the oasis at dawn.

  Pale ribbons of color formed random patterns in the sky. The water rippled lavender and gold where the waterfall and plunge pool met. Although the air felt moist and cool, Henri could already feel the heat creeping over Eissua Oasis.

  At the cave entrance, Narrtep bowed and left her. She walked the short tunnel and entered the living space. WoNa sat at a table, her distinctive eyes glowing in the lamp light. She inclined her head and offered a hand.

  “Good morning, dear friend.”

  Henri sandwiched it between hers, squeezed it gently, and released it. “It is indeed a glorious morning and an important one. Are you ready to go?”

  The Atrilaasu Oracle touched the bare spot on her forehead where the Oracle Stone should have been. “We will find Corvus and bring him to help—” Her eyes seemed to grow larger, more lustrous. A tear leaked from the corner of one, caught the light of the fire, and dripped red-orange down her cheek. Ignoring it, she reached into the neck of her kcalo and withdrew her snake. It writhed between her fingers, then slithered to encircle her wrist.

  “I am ready, Henri. I will shape a finnero beetle and ride on your back. When you shift, please land by my hand on the table top, so I can find you.”

  Henri shifted. Gray wings flecked with orange lifted her to the indicated spot. She felt the currents of WoNa’s change and stretched her neck to observe a small gray and orange beetle land and nestle down in her back feathers. “Settled?”

  “Yes.” WoNa’s answer quivered through her head.

  “Have you flown before?”

  “Yes, some time ago. I am excited. A bit nervous, also.”

  “Stay down and hold on.”

  Henri launched from the table and swooped down the small tunnel into the light of the rising sun. She sensed WoNa’s anticipation dissolving. Joy flowed from her like ripples in a pond. Keeping the sun behind her, Henri soared higher. The Toelachoc Mountains were on the far side of Fera Finnero. With luck, they would arrive before the sun set.

  Secure beneath layers of soft, gray feathers, WoNadahem Mardree in beetle form reveled in the powerful contract and release of the dune hawk’s back muscles; the whistles and whispers of the wind along the sleek lines of the bird’s body; the wha, wha, wha of the wings against the air. The only other time she had flown, Wolloh had shifted to the osprey and carried her to Nesune Ruins for a retreat, a time of renewal of her vows as the Atrilaasu Oracle, a time for professing her love of her people and of the man who made her heart sing.

  Both she and Wolloh had realized their individual responsibilities demanded that they live apart…at least for now. They had promised each other this would not always be so. Each turning, they communicated telepathically. With a regularity that had delighted her, Wolloh appeared at Eissua. Time spent sharing, learning, and practicing their skills enhanced their relationship. Her tiny beetle heart thumped the song of her loneliness.

  A disturbance in the sky overhead snapped her from past to present. Henri’s hawk form descended and swooped into a shadowy trough between dunes. As Henri’s talons hit the sand, WoNa’s DerTahan beetle landed beside her. In the same instant, she and Henri materialized side by side.

  Henri’s hand on her arm, kept her quiet. “Don’t move. Fire ConDra.”

  Heat washed the dunes, pooled in the trough, and scorched the air around them. WoNa pressed her eyes shut. Her inner sight picked the Fire ConDra from the red of the sky—one then two. A third soared in a descending circle above them. Manic shrieks vibrating over the desert loosened sand and sent it cascading down the steep dunes.

  “What we need is the Water ConDria.” Henri grasped her hand. “If we work together, we can teleport her to us. You have a heart bond. Is it safe to bring her now, or will we endanger her or her companions?”

  WoNa bowed her head. Her snake slipped from her wrist to encircle their hands. “It is safe. I’m ready.”

  The link to Henri’s mind washed through hers with the invigorating freshness of dawn. Their memories swam together, like hoco fish heading for their spawning grounds. Immersion into colors, sights, and sounds left WoNa breathless. An unexpected intrusion lurking along the horizon of their connection triggered wards that sprang into place, concealing them—banishing the shadowy form.

  Heat blasted hotter, a reminder of their peril. They focused on what they sought.

  Brie’s abrupt arrival in the desert left her breathless. Blinking against the bright light and the tears flooding her eyes, she strained to see who or what had snatched her away from her friends and Trinuge. Her gaze flashed from WoNa’s beloved face to Henri’s and fastened on the three Fire ConDra circling overhead.

  She raised her arms. The ConDria’s form embraced her like a mother’s love. Fluid silk caressed her skin. With joy infusing every cell in her body, she pressed massive, watery wings against air and soared upward. The effervescent song of raindrops in the sun spread over the desert. Around her, Fire ConDra circled, flames fanned by the air, lava tongues snapping and crackling in the sudden moisture. Sparks pelted down and fizzled out in the power of water over fire.

  Three ConDra formed a blazing line across the sky. Opening her wings, the ConDria began to rotate. Little by little, she wrapped her body in their torrential strength. A ConDra streaked toward her. Faster and faster she spun, a water spout of cyclonic power. Closer and closer it came. Heat sizzled off her whirling form. A missile of fire hit, exploded into tattered burning pieces, and spiraled downward.

  The two remaining ConDra screeched a battle cry. The Water ConDria sang a trill of warning notes in reply. A second creature swooped low. The third careened toward her. Unfurling her wings to brake her spin, she hovered, luminous silver-blue eyes locked on its fiery gaze. Blazing talon’s reached for her. A stream of water spewed from her open beak the instant before she dropped from reach. The third ConDra shot overhead as she swaddled its companion beneath her in the aqueous expanse of her breast and cradled it in folded pinions. Steam blocked the sun. The air sputtered with the hiss and crackle of squelched flames.

  Wails of despair beat against the domed sky. The last Fire ConDra fled, leaving the fizzling remains of its companions expiring on the desert floor.

  Brie took a moment to relish the cool richness of water, the glory of flight, the freedom and all-encompassing delight of being the Water ConDria. Below her WoNa held up a hand. Brie’s mind filled with the sound of Henri’s call to come home. She swept over them, circled, and landed in her Human form.

  17

  Master’s Reach

  Myrrh & Thera

  S parrow stared at her blank canvas and sighed. I can’t concentrate. I’m worried about the twins and Alli. She sat down, rested elbows on her knees, and cradled her chin in her hands. The memory of Ari, chin in hands at Almiralyn’s kitchen table in the cottage several sun turnings ago, made her wistful for less chaotic times—quiet times with her daughters and Allynae. Another sigh lifted a stray tendril of hair and let it fall. Almiralyn has been too busy to give me my next lesson in DiMensionery. Straightening, she rubbed her knees. She had discovered her telepathic abilities when she, Merrilea, and One Man were escaping behind the Demrach Falls on Thera. So, I know I’m telepathic. What I want to know is if I can shape shift and teleport.

  The urgent emptin
ess of the canvas called her to paint, to create, to be useful in some way. She shook off her lethargy, forced herself to the easel, and stared unseeing until the whiteness blurred and the cave walls faded. The impulse to sketch sent her rummaging. She found a piece of charcoal, rolled it between her fingers, and studied the pristine rectangle. Acute need directed her hand in swirling movements. Thin beyond anything Human, a figure began to emerge. A skeletal frame, narrow stooped shoulders, an angular, half-hidden profile covered the lower half of the canvas.

  Her hand flew to the untouched upper portion of the sketch. The blackened skeleton of a large bird of prey began to take shape. Lid-less eyes stared. Featherless wings spread wide, its burned beak stretched open in a scream.

  The sound of panting and the smells of sulfur and burning flesh snatched her from her artist’s daze. She stared at her hand poised mid-stroke and realized the harsh breathing was her own. A movement riveted her attention to the sketch. She gasped.

  The image of the bird broke free of the canvas and floated inches from her face. Clutched in its talons, a quartz sphere gleamed. Held rigid by a power she could not control, she stared into its depths. Reflected within, the shattered pieces of what had once been Elcaro’s Eye lay strewn throughout a darkened space. A scorched figure sprawled in a smoking heap on the floor.

  The charcoal dropping from shaking fingers broke the spell. She dodged backward, tears streaming down her cheeks. The crystal crashed to the floor, rolled to a stop, and with the decimated raptor vaporized in a puff of smoke.

  The next instant she found herself in the Meosian square, her breath coming in rasping gasps. DeoNytes gathered around her.

  “Are you alright?” A young female peered up at her.

  Sparrow stared blankly at the beautiful face, the white fur, the pale, pale eyes. Frantic to find Almiralyn, she started to speak, perceived the vague image of the Reading Room in her mind, and arrived to find Myrrh’s Guardian with her hand on the door to Veersuni.