The UnFolding Collection Three

by S. K. Randolph

  “Great.” Ira sucked on the tip of his finger. “Now, Brie’s on the other side of the planet. By the fathers, I’m tired of surprises. I just want to go home.”

  Color flooded back into Torgin’s face. “You sound like me, Ira. Maybe you’re the Drotti.”

  Ira growled and strode down the track.

  Esán sighed. “Guess it’s up to you and me to carry the stretcher.” He placed One Man’s flute beside Desirol. “At least, Brie’s with WoNa.”

  Torgin scrambled to his feet. “None of us are safe. I’m not telepathic, but I’m smart enough to know we’re all in danger. I just hope my mother’s alright, wherever she is.”

  Esán stepped between the makeshift poles at Desirol’s head, and together they hoisted the stretcher off the ground. Not as hard as I thought. I must be getting stronger. He set a steady pace, his thoughts in a turmoil. Why did WoNa snatch Brie away? Will she send her back? Surprise almost made him stop short. I really miss her. He searched the track ahead. Ira had vanished behind a group of trees. Anxiety made him pick up his pace.

  Torgin groaned. “Warn me the next time you plan to speed up. Can’t see Ira, can you?”

  “No, but I can feel his presence, so he’s not gone.” Tightening his grip, he kept on marching. Wolloh had told them to stay together. WoNa must have had a good reason to teleport Brie to the other side of DerTah. Please send her back soon, WoNa.

  Ira leaned against the trunk of a tall tree and squinted up at the sky. Anger knotted his stomach. Fear for Brie left him muttering under his breath.

  “Ira?” WoNa’s soft voice eased his agitation.

  He sank to the ground and rested his head on the rough bark. His eyes closed. His mind emptied.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Ari yawned and stared at the rolling hills. The sharp pain in her finger ceased. Where is everyone? Her eyes widened. Brielle?

  “Brie is with me, Ari. Take a moment and then—”

  Ari ran feminine fingers through her curls. “I remember…Ira. I’m Ira.”

  She looked down at her body. “Where did my drango tunic go?”

  A shout, the sounds of stumbling, a series of sharp barks brought her to her feet in one movement. The world shimmered and steadied.

  Ira shook his head. “What a strange—”

  “Stand still!” Torgin’s alarm echoed over the fields.

  Hidden in the trees, Ira made his way back to the track. Midway up the hill, a large dog bound toward his friends, its longish black fur rustling with each step. Esán and Torgin gripped the stretcher and did not move. Ira considered his options. Before he could make up his mind, a man’s figure crested the hilltop. He stopped and whistled a series of notes. The dog dropped to its hunches, its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. The man strode toward the boys. Friend or foe? Ira remained silent and watchful in the trees.

  Torgin and Esán lowered the stretcher to the ground and edged closer together. The man joined them. Ira strained to hear.

  “Looks…you…help.”

  Esán indicated Desirol. “Our friend is…”

  The rest of the conversation was too muffled to hear. When the man whistled for the dog and both headed back the way they had come, Ira sprinted from the trees and arrived panting by his friends.

  “Who was that?”

  “A farmer who lives near here. Hepler’s his name. Where were you, anyway?” Torgin demanded.

  Ira scratched his head. “I was…” He looked over his shoulder and frowned.

  Esán shot him an understanding smile. “We’re just glad you’re back. Hepler has offered to take us to Atkis. He’s gone for a wagon.”

  “Says he has errands to run,” Torgin muttered. “Hope he leaves that dog behind.”

  Ira laughed. “You afraid of dogs, Torg?”

  “Haven’t been around any but Buster.” He lowered his gaze.

  Ira understood. Almiralyn’s dog had been their friend and companion until two Pentharian killed him. Ira touched Efillaeh’s jeweled hilt. He still felt guilty that he’d been unable to save him.

  A farm wagon drawn by two horses rumbled over the hill and rolled to a stop beside the stretcher. Hepler jumped to the ground. He was older than Ira expected, weathered and lean. At his brusque command, the dog stayed on the rough wooden seat. A smile lit fading eyes beneath gray, arched brows as he offered a hand. “You must be Ira. Your friends told me you were nearby.”

  Ira grasped the hand and flinched. Its strong grip took him by surprise. “Thank you for helping, sir.”

  The man’s grin showed good teeth. “No need to call me sir, boy. Let’s get your friend loaded in the back.”

  Settling Desirol took almost no time. Soon, they were on the way. Esán sat on the bench with Hepler and the dog, Shyllee. Torgin sat, an elbow propped on the wagon’s side. His distant, sad expression made Ira almost certain he was thinking about Buster. Torgin and Paisley had buried him in the grasslands on Myrrh. Ira sighed. It seems like such a long time ago, and yet it was only a few moon cycles.

  The jog of the wagon lulled him to sleep. A snore jarred him awake. Torgin caught his eye and grinned. Ira scowled, fought to stay awake, and finally gave in to the rocking motion and the rhythmic clip clop of the horses’ hooves along the rough track.

  Dreams came and went, faded and earmarked like old-time photos, until he found himself propelled through a series of spinning portals. Flares of color blinded him. A crystal blinked to life and faded. Rushing air tore at his hair and clothing. He slid from the final portal. A tremor of foreboding shook him awake. He straightened and stared. No Torgin. No wagon. Nothing but the cold diamond glitter of stars—nothing but the dark blue sky of a moonless night. His stomach lurched. His head gave a corresponding throb. A wave of nausea left him prone with his cheek resting on his arm. Where on DerTah am I? He moaned and curled into a fetal ball.

  “You are safe. Sleep, Ira. Sleep.”

  The deep voice was warm and calming—hypnotic. Ira’s eyes refused to stay open. Sleep overtook him, cradled him, eased the nausea and headache into a faint and distant memory.

  Henri observed the wonder of the Water ConDria in her niece’s eyes with mild alarm. WoNa expressed the concern in words.

  “My dearest Brielle, don’t forget the power of changing shape and its pitfalls. Neither your aunt nor I wish to lose you to the ConDria.”

  The thrill drained like a plug had been pulled. Henri hugged her niece and held her at arm’s length. “You don’t need to block the joy of it. Just keep your heart attached to your humanness.”

  “I will, Aunt Henri. I promise.” She glanced at the scattered remains of her enemy. “I did that?” She shook her head. “I never remember. At least this time, my shift was conscious.”

  WoNa reached for her. “Thank you for saving us, blood-bonded daughter.”

  Brie gripped her hand and pressed it to her heart. “You are welcome, WoNa. What on Thera—I mean DerTah—are you doing here? And how do I return to my friends?” She quickly told what had occurred since the shields had been breached.

  The fact that her story confirmed the discovery that a Mindeco and an Astican pursued Brie and her companions worried Henri more than she let her niece know. An even bigger concern was returning Brie to Trinuge. She had drained her energy reserve, and she knew WoNa also needed time to recuperate.

  “We can send you back, but not until we’ve rested.”

  “And, Brielle,” WoNa said, “we can’t rest here.”

  Henri scanned the sky. “You will need to come with us to the Toelachoc Mountains. We’re hoping to find Corvus there.”

  Brie looked from one woman to the other. “My friends will be worried.” She tipped her head and gave them a pleading look. “I’m not strong enough to send Esán a telepathic message from this distance.”

  Henri laughed softly. “And I always thought Ari was the conniving twin.”

  WoNa squeezed her hand. “I have already alerted Esán. He and I also share a bond.
Now, we must go.”

  “But I have only shaped the Water ConDria. I don’t know how to shift to anything else.”

  WoNa’s blind gaze found her face. “Like your aunt, you will shape the DerTahan dune hawk, Brielle. She will shift first. Study her shifted form very closely; then I will help you change.” Her sightless gaze swept over the dunes. “Go, Henri. Danger approaches.”

  Henri shifted. Brie knelt beside her.

  “Hurry, niece.”

  Slight pressure from WoNa’s hand sent Brie into shifted form. WoNa’s beetle appeared on the sand. Henri turned a hawk’s eye toward it, picked it up in her beak, and deposited it on her back, where it scuttled beneath gray feathers.

  Grateful that the sun had not reached full high, Henri shot along one shaded trough after the other, her senses alert and scanning ahead for trouble—trouble she knew bided its time in the hopes they would let down their guard—trouble she intended to thwart.

  Brie’s mind buzzed as she followed her aunt in a long, low swoop. The dune hawk feels claustrophobic after the Water ConDria. I wish—

  “Pay attention, niece. The Sebborr ride this way.”

  With an effort, Brie masked her thoughts and concentrated on staying close to her aunt. She had no desire to find herself alone in the middle of Fera Finnero with Sebborr near at hand. An image of Dahe Terah’s angry face and piercing eyes almost sent her back into Human form. The Sebborran leader had left his mark on her. WoNa had removed it. She had no intention of being caught by him a second time. Expunging him from her thoughts, she focused on her great-aunt and on reaching the Toelachoc Mountains. I sure hope we find Corvus.

  Following the descending path of the sun, Henri swooped down for a landing. Fatigue accompanied her shift to Human. The desire to be young once more crossed her mind as she materialized, stretched tired muscles, and stared into the distance. Along the horizon the rounded peaks of the Toelachoc Mountains, washed in the waning light of the sun, glowed a warm carnelian orange. She pushed back her hood. “At least we’re closer.”

  Brie alighted nearby and tucked her red curls behind her ears. “I love the ConDria, but the dune hawk is quite wonderful, too.” She rotated slowly, observing the subtle changes occurring in the environment as they drew nearer the mountains. “Where’s WoNa? Are those the Toelachocs?”

  WoNa’s beetle form fluttered to the ground. She appeared with a finger to her lips. “Speak softly. We’re quite near LeCur, the capitol of Fera Finnero Province and the home of the Dreela Gidtuss. It would never do to alert one of his patrols.” She turned toward the mountains. “Yes, those are the Toelachocs. The prison where we believe Corvus is hidden is southwest of here.”

  Brie smiled. “This desert is truly a part of you, isn’t it?”

  The Oracle’s gleaming eyes seemed to see the broad expanse of red sand. “It is my life’s blood.” She smiled as her small, red serpent slithered onto her shoulder. “Hello, dear one,” she crooned, “how did you like the flight?”

  It gave several short hisses and a long, whistled sound.

  Her laughed response was so soft, Henri caught herself leaning closer.

  WoNa held up her hand. The snaked bunched the center of its body like a concertina, pushed its tiny tail into her shoulder, and shot forward. It came to rest with its head on the end of her middle finger and its tail twitching back and forth on her wrist. Raising the hand to eye level, she said, “Very few know my small protector’s name, but it has asked me to share with you. It is called Tesi.”

  Tesi’s forked tongue flicked out and in. WoNa moved her hand toward Henri and then Brie. Finally, she returned Tesi to her shoulder and spoke in a quiet undertone. “What’s our next move, Henri?”

  “Rest.” She took off her kcalo and spread it on the slanted side of a dune and helped WoNa to sit. With a sigh, Henri lowered her weary body. “Join us, Brielle.”

  Her niece plopped down next to WoNa. “What do you know about the Toelachoc Prison?”

  Henri knit her brow. “Not very much. It’s deserted and has been for many cycles.”

  WoNa scooped sand up in her hands and let a slow stream of red granules leak between her palms. “The memories and ghosts of the horror that once existed still linger there. Most are harmless, some are not. As a child I listened to the older boys telling stories around the oasis fires—gory tales of the brutality of the prisoners and the guards. The prison was not a good place. Men are said to fare better if they chance upon it. Women are told not to wander too close.”

  “At least there are three of us.” Henri settled more comfortably on the kcalo. “We’ll stay together. Let’s rest before our fatigue scares us into retreating.”

  Brie curled up with her head in WoNa’s lap. Soon, the sound of her soft snores drifted over the sand.

  At the Dreelas’ estate, Nomed woke early to the sound of TheLise moving around her room. He shoved the bedding aside and sat up. A yawn that transitioned into a full-bodied stretch left him wide awake. Concentrating his attention on the Tinga Forest, he made a telepathic search for Esán and his friends, rubbed his stubbled chin, and frowned.

  The bedroom door opened. TheLise stuck her head out. “They aren’t there. I checked. Better use the cleansing room and dress. I have a feeling we will be needed even sooner than we thought.”

  He hustled through his cleanse, considered shaving, decided it would be time wasted, and pulled on his clothes. When he walked into the living space, TheLise was completing a conversation with her Major Domo. She shot him a perturbed look. “Tynus has just been telling me that Roween is packing.”

  “To go where?” Nomed felt the scar on his cheek go taut.

  TheLise smiled at her man. “Please.”

  “She plans to go to Cartatt with the Dreelas, and then join the Largeen Joram at the front.”

  “Thank you, Tynus.” She waved him toward the door. “Don’t let that woman out of your sight.”

  Nomed scrutinized a breakfast tray that had been placed on a table near the sofa. The first bite of buttery pastry reminded him how hungry he was. He sat down and loaded his plate.

  TheLise joined him. “How do we keep her contained if she’s running around the planet? Lorsedi will be furious if she shows up in the middle of a battle. What is she thinking?”

  “Eat, TheLise.” He pushed a chair out with his foot. “We will need all the energy we can muster. As for Roween…” He sipped his steaming vaja and set the mug on the table. “She isn’t going anywhere. You will remind her that Lorsedi wanted her out of harm’s way. As to your trip—you won’t be taking your carriage. Your business is urgent and requires that you teleport. Give a plausible reason why you are unable to teleport her, like all her luggage. Promise to take her to Cartatt when you return.”

  She listened, finished her repast, and bushed the crumbs from her hands. “I’ll meet you in the gazebo. Take care that no one sees you. You know the Mindeco and the Astican have joined forces?”

  “I know. Be quick.” He held the door open, shut it after her, and leaned against it, frowning. Why would they become allies? Why? His eyebrow arced. Of course. Nissasa wants Desirol neutralized. The MasTer wants Esán, Brie, and Torgin. Both would like to gain control of the compass and the knife . He took a quick turn around the room, stopping by double doors that led outside. A backward glance assured him that he had left nothing behind. Exiting onto the balcony, he breathed in the fragrance of morning, shifted, and winged his way to the gazebo. Perching within the leafy branches of a nearby tree, he waited. Acute hearing picked up the sound of TheLise’s arrival almost before she appeared. He launched into the air, swooped into the gazebo and landed, his Human eyes resting on her face.

  “You look displeased.”

  Her chin went up. “I dislike stubborn women. I despise Roween Rattori more than just about anyone I have ever encountered. She is manipulative and as shrewd as a fox.”

  “Did you manage to thwart her efforts to leave?”

  “Of course. But she
knows something’s up, and she won’t be satisfied until she discovers what it is.”

  Nomed glowered. “She is a dumb woman.”

  “Don’t underestimate her, Seyes. She has a small talent for DiMensionery, and believe me, she knows how to use it. I suggest we depart in the event she begins snooping around.”

  Light flared around TheLise. A sleek, Trinugian falcon soared upward, its blue and green wings gleaming in the morning sun. Nomed gazed after her for a moment, shaped the owl, and rose above the trees.

  Not far from the gazebo, a figure stepped from shadow to sunlight. Roween Rattori shaded her eyes and stared after the disappearing birds. “So you thought to fool me.” She snatched up her full skirt, pivoted on her heels, and stalked back toward the house. Seething with anger, she flung herself through the front door and up the main staircase. At the top Tissent, her fellow guest and Gerolyn’s identical twin, blocked the way. The realization that Lorsedi loved Gerolyn more than he had ever loved her increased her fury.

  Preparing to shove past her, she snapped, “Out of my way.”

  Tissent matched her direction, emerald eyes riveted to hers. “You seem upset, Roween. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll fix you a cup of tea.”

  Tissent’s soft words penetrated her anger, erased her erratic thoughts, and left her feeling dazed. A gentle hand cupped her elbow and guided her to her private rooms. She sank onto a comfortable sofa and yawned. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Her eyelids grew heavy. Another yawn. Grabbing a small pillow, she lay down. The last thing she remembered was Tissent’s gentle smile.

  The knock on the suite door in the Esccery Inn dragged Nissasa from a deep, disturbing sleep. He thought at first he had dreamt it. A second and much bolder hammering told him it was real and whoever waited on the far side of the door was impatient and none too happy.

  Scrambling from bed, he threw on a robe supplied by the inn, blinked the sleep from his eyes, and hurried to the door. Easing it ajar, he peeked through the crack. Every drop of blood in his body plummeted to his feet. The door flying open forced him backward. Vygel Vintrusie marched into the suite.