The UnFolding Collection Three

by S. K. Randolph

  Spitting and coughing, the Mindeco dropped to all fours and lumbered down a track. A strange flicker caught his eye. He sat back on his haunches and scanned the surrounding fields. They flickered, solidified, and then began to break apart. The sound of ocean surf made him glance over his shoulder. The fields were gone. He balanced on a ledge high above the sea. Standing slowly, he pressed his chest into the cliff and clung to the rough surface. His eye traced the height of the face. A shudder shook the entire length of his body.

  Like a mammoth bird, the Astican swooped from the sky. Its cherubic features almost belied the rage in its eyes. “We are on the wrong side of the peninsula, fool.” It hovered above the cliff and roared, “I am Abarax, Astican of the Fire Pits of TreBlaya. I will find who did this. And I will carry them to the place of no return to burn for eternity.” With a low growl, it flew over the land in the direction of Atkis.

  Rikell, Mindeco of RewFaar, snarled and began the search for a way up the vertical face of the cliff.

  Almiralyn waved her hand above the fountain. The water swirled into a new image.

  Abarax’s frustration and its fear that the children would escape over water pressed it to fly faster. It reached the opposite side of the Trinugian peninsula and the village of Atkis as the sun’s light faded. Hidden in descending darkness, it prowled the streets, peeked in windows, listened to the whispers of men. Nothing indicated that the children had been there; nothing suggested how they might have arrived unseen.

  Disappointment carried it to the crown of a nearby hill, where it folded its wings and marched back and forth. Rage boiling up from its innards spilled into the night. Do I return for the Mindeco or leave the imbecile to his fate? It paused and stared out to sea. If the children have reached water and moved beyond my reach… A howl formed in its throat. Choking it down, Abarax narrowed cherub-blue eyes and muttered under its breath. “I can’t cross the smallest puddle in this form without incurring agonizing pain.” It wet rosebud lips with the tip of its candy-pink tongue. “I can, however, do so in a different shape, but I’ll need a partner.”

  Exasperation fueled its flight back the way it had come. Everything in its makeup balked at accepting help from the Mindeco. The witless incapability of the creature to see the magnitude of The MasTer’s dream and the importance of the Human children to the success of it almost turned it back. The fact that it needed an emissary who could cross over water kept it on course.

  At long last it reached the high cliffs on the opposite shore and scoured them for its quarry. Fasfro’s saffron light picked out the pathetic creature sitting on the ledge, legs dangling, long fingers gripping the rock-strewn edge to keep from falling.

  Abarax swooped, taloned feet extended, gripped Rikell’s shoulders, and lifted him kicking and screaming into the air. One look down and the Mindeco ceased his battle for what amounted to instant death and allowed the Davea to carry him inland over fields and hills.

  By the fountain, all who watched the scene unfold saw the thoughts of the two creatures. Almiralyn scanned their faces and their emotional responses: Wilith’s disbelief, Merrilea’s fear of what was to come, Zugo’s desire to be with his friends, Sparrow’s concern for the children. Only Elae seemed unworried. Simple curiosity regarding the events, that and the intuitive knowledge that The Unfolding would take care of the outcome, were all that Almiralyn could detect.

  Kieel thought he would burst with information. He ran a list in his head and checked it again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Across the room the Mocendi were preparing to take a break. The youngest had excused himself to fix a snack. No one seemed interested in leaving the apartment.

  Patience. If you let yourself fret, you’ll make a mistake. Patience . Scrunching lower, he waited for a good opportunity to retreat to the top of the cornice.

  Food arrived and the group dispersed long enough to use the Personal Needs Space. They stacked plates with succulent treats and settled down to eat. Kieel’s stomach growled. Sure could use some real food . He shot upward. A tiny cloud of dust accompanied his touch down on the cornice nearest the door. Stifling a sneeze, he made himself as small as possible.

  The Mocendi spoke little during their meal. The eldest man made a frequent scan of the room, frowned, and kept eating.

  Kieel fretted. Again, he admonished himself to be patient.

  A disturbance in the hall started with a muffled expletive and grew louder and more angry. Thorlu wiped his mouth, threw his napkin on the table, and crossed to the door. The moment it opened, Kieel bolted through and crouched on the door frame.

  Two young men gave Thorlu a sheepish look. He glowered. “Take yourselves outside and get a bit of fresh air. Try the roof. Don’t interrupt us again.”

  “Yes, sir. We apologize. We—”

  His comrade grabbed him by the arm and hurried him toward the stairs at the end of the hall. “Shut up. You’ll get us in more trouble.”

  Thorlu withdrew into the apartment. Kieel darted after the young men and arrived on the rooftop with a sigh of relief. Hidden behind a vent, he eavesdropped.

  “By The MasTer’s Reach, what made you pick a fight down there. You almost got us in real trouble. Those four are pretty nasty when riled.”

  “You picked the fight, not me. What made you do it?”

  They looked from one to the to the other. At the same instant, understanding dawned on their faces. They sprinted down the stairs. Teva materialize. The rooftop door swung shut and the lock clicked into place. “Hurry, Kieel. We only have moments.”

  She shifted to the dove. He mounted and put an arm around her neck. They flew straight up until Kieel could hardly make out which building they had left behind. Banking east, the dove made a wide circle that carried them from one side of the city to the other. When it finally landed, they were in a park. Teva materialized beneath the arched curve of a small bridge and held out a hand.

  Kieel touched down and tapped the palm with his walking stick. “I have learned more than I expected. We need—”

  The crunch of gravel spun him around. Teva swore under her breath.

  The figure of a man stepped free of the trees on the opposite side of the stream. “Teva Rivan. What a pleasure to see you again. It always surprises me how much you resemble your dear cousin.” His tone was pleasant. The small weapon in his hand was not.

  “Hello, Thorlu Tangorra. Imagine meeting you here.” Teva sounded calm and contained.

  Kieel kept his fear in check.

  Thorlu advanced forward. “Don’t move, little man. It would be a shame to end the life of your lovely companion.”

  “I’m surprised you would pick on someone so much smaller than you, but then…” Teva’s fingers curled around Kieel’s legs. A quick flick of her wrist sent him hurtling upward. His wings caught the air. He whizzed into foliage and branches, well-hidden amongst leaves the colors of autumn.

  Below Thorlu hadn’t moved. Teva’s hand dropped to her side. They’re eyes locked.

  “Put the weapon away, Thorlu. Or are you afraid to pit your skills against mine?”

  The blond Mocendi hesitated, appearing to struggle with some internal desire. His eyes never left Teva’s face as he slid the weapon into a pocket. “I want the little man. I’ve never met a Nyti. He is one, correct?” His tone remained pleasant.

  Teva remained immobile, but alert.

  A sudden blur and Thorlu arrived by her side. His hand gripped her upper arm. His nostrils flared only inches from hers. Arrogant eyes flashed with anger. “If you don’t want her hurt, little man, you’d better show yourself.”

  “He’s not a fool, Thorlu.” A sweet smile curved her lips but left her eyes sapphire cool. “I suggest that you remove your hand. It would be too bad to lose the use of it.”

  A cruel laugh and the tightening of his grip—the only response she received— made Kieel cringe. I want to help. How?

  “Patience.”

  The telepathic voice had been male, but not Thorlu’s. Kiee
l crouched lower and peeked between leaves. Nothing moved. Not even the sparrow in the tree opposite continued its search for bugs. All life seemed to have come to a standstill.

  Cruelty thinned Thorlu’s full lips. “Brave words for a priestess.”

  Teva’s smile hardened.

  The Mocendi’s cry of pain pierced the air. He jerked his hand away from her arm and stared at the swathe of red blisters on the palm. “You little—” His other hand went up.

  A bolt of sizzling light barely missed her cheek as she dodged to one side. Thorlu lunged. She vanished and reappeared gazing down at him from the bridge over the stream.

  The Mocendi launched into the air and landed, only to find the bridge empty.

  A probe searched the trees. Kieel kept his thoughts hidden. Thorlu picked up a pebble and pitched it into the stream.

  “I’ll find you, Teva Rivan. And when I do…” Only silence and empty air remained. Thorlu had vanished.

  Kieel scanned the park. Do I move?

  “Patience.” The masculine voice sounded again in Kieel’s mind.

  The sparrow flew to a branch below him and gazed up at him from a single eye.

  "Follow"

  Kieel gripped his walking stick. What if it is an enemy? What if it’s a trap?

  The sparrow chirped and soared upward.

  Gathering his courage, he followed the small bird, from tree to tree until it flew into the open and over the street. Kieel landed beneath a bench and examined the building across the way. He recognized it. Relief made him giddy. “Calm down,” he muttered. If the enemy is watching, will they be looking up or down? I’m little with wings. They’d be looking up.

  A patroller approached and paused at the corner only a couple of steps from where he knelt. She glanced his direction. His heart skipped. He knew her. Something fell from her hand. She set a bag on the ground and searched the area. Without giving himself time to think, he dove in. A small object plunked in beside him. A hand gripped the bag and boots hit the street. On the other side, she hesitated by the pass-through. He shot from the bag and in the door midway down. Once in the sub-level, he flew straight to Jordett and collapsed on the table, panting from an adrenaline rush that left him shaking.

  The Major let out a breath. “Anada found you. Thank goodness.”

  Kieel laid his walking stick on the table and pressed his palms together. “Teva?”

  Lenadi entered the room. “Teva is fine. She’ll join us when she can. You did well, Kieel.”

  Kieel’s questioning frown transformed into a smile. “You were the sparrow.”

  “I was. I am never far from Teva. I thought for a moment you wouldn’t follow me.”

  “I almost didn’t.”

  The KcernFensian smiled. “I’m glad you did. You’ve had quite an adventure. How’re you doing?”

  Kieel sighed. “I’m fine. Thirsty. Hungry. Exhausted. Lots to tell.”

  Jordett motioned a patroller forward. “See what you can find for our scout to eat. Bring water as well.”

  The patroller gave Kieel an interested look.

  Kieel winked. The man grinned and hurried away.

  Jeet walked from the Demrach Gateway into the Terces Wood. Overhead, dim rays of Myrrhinian sunlight filtered through the clouds and canopy. A breeze brushed his cheek. He breathed in the crispness of autumn, grateful for a reprieve from the desert heat.

  Yuin, his ruby-red comrade, stepped into the clearing. “Oia lala di. It is good to see you, my comrade.”

  They touched foreheads and spoke in undertones for a short time. When they were done, Yuin conferred with two RewFaaran soldiers. The three merged back into concealment amongst fern and trees.

  Jeet shaped a panther and trotted down the path, reviewing the events on DerTah as he made his way to meet with Mondago. The battle for the gateway had been bloody though short. The Tinpaca had lost good men.

  At the edge of camp, Jeet resumed his natural form, announced himself to the soldier on guard, and walked toward the Tinpaca’s tent, tail twitching and orange scales gleaming. He wondered as he passed soldiers, who continued to regard him with wary interest, if they realized how strange they looked to him. The thought made him ponder the variety of the Inner Universe.

  A flash of emerald green at the entrance to Mondago’s tent ended his musings.

  “It is good to see you unharmed, my brother.” Stee motioned him inside and took up a position close enough to the table to hear and contribute, but near enough to the entrance to intercept problems.

  Mondago sat with a cloud of cigar smoke dissipating around him. “Good to see you, Jeet. Join me. Stee?”

  Stee touched his heart. “I prefer to keep watch.”

  The Tinpaca nodded. “What have you to report, Jeet.”

  “The gateway is secured. The cost was great.” Jeet gave a brief description of the battle and finished with a tally of Mondago’s troops. “Three dead and seven wounded. The remaining three are unharmed. Tesilend sustained a minor wound to the upper arm that One Man partially healed.”

  “And Nissasa’s Brigade?”

  Jeet reviewed the count in his head. “Two escaped, three are unhurt, five are dead, and five are wounded, two of them seriously. One Man received word from Lorsedi that his troops have secured the border. All in all, a good turning’s work.”

  Mondago stared at the tip of his smoldering cigar. “Paid for with the blood of good men.” He snubbed it out. “Any orders?”

  “Hold the portals at this end. I’m to return and support Tesilend unless you have need of me here.”

  “Go. Have One Man tell Lorsedi there has been no word from Jordett.”

  Jeet stood. “I will, sir. When you hear something, send either Stee or Yuin through the portal. I will keep you informed as to any changes in DerTah.”

  The Tinpaca walked him to the edge of the trees. “Thank you, Jeet. May your turnings be long.”

  Jeet bowed. “And yours.” He shifted to panther and padded through the forest shadows, enjoying the coolness until the portal came into view. Shaping his natural form, he made his farewells to Yuin and leapt into the shimmering vortex. The DerTahan heat hit him like a shock wave.

  In vulture form, Stee soared over the Terces Wood, senses alert to changes in the forest below. As the sun dipped the edge of its blazing orb behind the Dojanack Mountains, he landed at Nemttachenn Tower, his Pentharian nostrils inhaling the invigorating freshness of autumn. Through an opening in the canopy, he observed a V of birds silhouetted against the first tinted clouds of dusk. The clearing seemed untouched by the events of the past several moon cycles.

  A low rumble shattered the allusion of peace. Nemttachenn quaked on its foundation. Stee vanished. A falcon, streaked upward. It perched on the ramparts, then swooped on soundless wings, following the descent of the interior staircase. Midway down it came to rest, its raptor eyes searching.

  At the center of the tower, Paisley stared transfixed at the fully visible Evolsefil Crystal. CheeTrann was nowhere to be seen. Again, the tower shook. Small stones tumbled down the stairs and rolled to a stop amidst scattered chess pieces.

  Evolsefil began to hum. Within its crystalline center, the filmy shape of a male figure clutched something in his hand. Greedy, ice-blue eyes scoured the tower and came to rest on Paisley’s inert form. The gossamer man, stepped free of Evolsefil, and waved a hand.

  Paisley’s eyes glazed over. His knees gave way. He collapsed in a heap at the tower’s center.

  The man knelt beside him and held a glowing fire-red crystal above his head. Paisley trembled and cried out. The apparition’s cruel mouth twitched into a wicked smile.

  Behind him, CheeTrann materialized, almost as tall as the tower. A black and amber jar appeared at his feet, its lid gleaming beside it. “Nissasa Rattori!”

  The figure whirled around. Its glacial gaze traveled the enormous height of the Sentinel.

  CheeTrann rumbled.

  “Nissasa’s essence come to me

&nbs
p; Into this vessel that you see

  Trapped within until the time

  I reverse this holding rhyme.”

  As the Sentinel of Nemttachenn chanted, the quintessential being of Nissasa Rattori flowed into the jar.

  “Lid!” CheeTrann ordered.

  Stee flashed into Pentharian form, grabbed the lid, and secured it in place.

  CheeTrann shrunk to his normal size. “It is good to see you, Pentharian of ReTaw au Qa.”

  “And you, Sentinel of Myrrh.”

  Paisley moaned and pointed.

  Inside the Evolsefil Crystal, an image of Nissasa’s immobile physical form stood in the middle of a room. A gaunt, bald man in the purple-lined cape of a Mocendi DiMensioner snapped boney fingers in front of his lifeless eyes. The man made a circuit of the room, stopped in front of an armoire mirror, and stared. Whipping around, he grabbed Nissasa’s right hand and uncurled the fisted fingers. Imprinted on the palm, the scarred impression of the Oracle Stone glowed red.

  CheeTrann motioned Stee and Paisley away from the tower’s center and faded.

  The Mocendi paled. His mouth shaped the words, “The MasTer is always right.”

  Evolsefil’s golden threads began to vibrate, diffusing the image until only the man’s bulging eyes remained. The hum ceased. The threads stilled. The eyes melted into golden nuggets that exploded in a flash of light.

  CheeTrann reappeared and spun a spell of invisibility around the crystal heart of Myrrh, whispered a chant to secure and bind it, and faced his companions.

  “It is safe to come out.”

  Stee emerged, rubbing the jewel in his ear. “Another player. Do you know who?”

  CheeTrann looked thoughtful. “One of The MasTer’s personal Mocendi.” He shrugged his massive shoulders.

  Paisley indicated the jar. “Is Nissasa Rattori truly in there?”

  “That which enlivens his body now resides in the charnockite jar. His physical body is wherever he was at the time he last used the Oracle Stone.”

  “Will he ever be whole again?” Stee asked.