The UnFolding Collection Three

by S. K. Randolph

  Torgin whispered, “It’s him, is it not?”

  Wolloh’s step did not falter. “It is.”

  The words faded. The path stretched ahead. Cocooned in silence, they continued.

  Torgin sighed. He longed for the missing flute, for the beauty of its music, and wondered what it would sound like in the vastness of MittKeer.

  Tamosh huddled with Yaro and Gregos on SeaBella . The sun hovered above the trees on the shoreline, painting the landscape in jewel colors. Dusk would soon begin to cloak the end of the turning in warm golds and pale orange. Trailing some distance behind them, the fishing trawler kept pace. She hadn’t closed the gap, but she hadn’t fallen back either.

  Gregos chewed his bottom lip, a sign that he worried. “We need to anchor before we lose the little light that’s left. Don’t want ’em to see us duck though the bottleneck. Don’t want ’em to find it either.”

  Tamosh withdrew the ampule from his shirt pocket. “Marji said when this is broken beneath the water, it gives off a mist that tends to hang in the air. Cayled and I can take the dinghy and row out a ways. I’ll break the ampule. As soon as the mist rises, you can slip into the cove. We’ll catch up.”

  Gregos looked the length of the vessel. “She’s a big girl to handle alone.”

  “I can help.” Bibeed joined them. “I’ve been sailing since I was small. Renn can help Yaro.”

  “Need Yaro to do some snooping to see how many’re on that boat.” Gregos stepped aside. “Take the wheel, Bibeed, and let’s see what ya can do.”

  Bibeed grinned. “I’ve been dying to see how she handles.”

  “Yo, Cayled. Come on down,” Gregos called. “Tamosh, get the dinghy ready to launch. Yaro, shape a seabird and see what ya can discover. Get back here fast as ya can.”

  A laridae soared upward, light from the setting sun washing it salmon. From his place at the stern, Tamosh followed its ascent with a touch of envy.

  Renn peeked through the hatch. Gregos waved her forward. “Stay close to Bibeed and do what she tells ya. She’s pretty darn good.”

  Cayled grinned as he crossed the deck to join Tamosh. “She’s better’n I am.”

  The next few minutes were filled with lowering the dinghy and climbing aboard. Gregos leaned over the side. “Not much light left. Ya best make it fast as ya can.”

  Tamosh pushed off. Cayled began to row. SeaBella’s sail caught the wind, and she began to pull away.

  Tamosh answered Cayled’s unspoken question. “I have no idea what will happen when I break the ampule. Be prepared to row like a Mindeco is at your back. Ready?”

  Cayled gripped the oars. “Ready.”

  Tamosh knelt at the stern and tested the wind direction. “Keep her into the wind. I’ll tell you when to go.” The ampule felt warm to the touch. The closer he moved to the sea the hotter it got. Scalding heat crawled over his fingers. He plunged the ampule beneath the water, snapped it in two, and let the pieces go. An anguished feminine face rose to the surface. Its mouth shaped a scream. Water bubbled it into oblivion. Steam misted upward and spread.

  “Go, Cayled.”

  The dinghy shot forward. Cayled hit his rowing stride—dip, pull, lift, forward, dip, pull, lift, forward. Roiling water chased them, caught them, gurgled around them. Steam smelling of burnt flesh wafted higher. Bobbing like a cork in a pan of boiling liquid, the dinghy pitched and rolled. Ocean bubbled over the side. Tamosh began to bail.

  The boat lurched upward. Cayled lost his grip on the oars, swore as one jumped its lock and splashed overboard. Grabbing the other one, he wielded it like a canoe paddle against the frothing current.

  The narrow entrance to the cove appeared at the edge of the mist. Tamosh growled his frustration and looked over his shoulder. A foggy curtain obscured the shore and SeaBella . The dinghy gave another violent lurch. Cayled pitched overboard. The small boat bounced ahead, leaving him hidden by the thickening mist and the roiling sea.

  Oarless and alone, Tamosh gripped the bulwark. Waves heaved it shoreward. Rocks loomed, ready to snag it, break it, send it to the bottom. He cast a frantic look behind him. A vulture dropped through the mist and rose with Cayled clinging to its legs, flew to the top of a cliff, set him down, and swooped toward the dinghy.

  Tamosh crouched lower. Towering rocks, jagged and dangerous, rushed closer. Talons gripped his shoulders and lifted. The wooden boat slammed against the shore, gave a loud crack, and splintered into pieces. Tamosh clutched the roughness of Yaro’s vulture legs and thanked Emit for his life.

  On the cliff top, Cayled caught him as Yaro lowered him to the ground. They clapped each other on the back and laughed a laugh of relief and release. The Pentharian materialized, a quizzical expression making his alien features look almost Human.

  “That was too close, brother of Gregos, yet you laugh.”

  Tamosh grinned at the tall off-worlder. “Gratitude that we still live, Yaro, that makes us giddy. Marji didn’t tell me breaking the ampule would create a tsunami. Thank you for coming to our rescue.”

  “You sure have great timing, Yaro.” Cayled shook water from his hair. “What did you find out about the fishing trawler?”

  “I discovered two men who are not used to the sea and a rough-looking sailor.”

  Cayled wrung out his shirt. “What do ya mean—not used to the sea?”

  Yaro’s red lips parted in a grin, showing strong white teeth. “Their stomachs could not keep down their meal.”

  Cayled laughed.

  Tamosh gazed over Triple Moon Strait. Mist enshrouded the shoreline. The sun had taken its light and fled below the tree-covered hills. The rising moon tinted the horizon gold. Had he not been worried about Gregos and SeaBella , he would have loved the view. As it was, he wanted to find his brother. Yaro met his gaze and shifted.

  Brie materialized in the hidey-hole and opened her hand. The dragonfly lifted into the air and shifted shape. Elf smiled at her.

  “Thanks, Brielle.”

  She grinned. “You’re welcome. Wonder if Thorlu discovered the decoy?”

  Elf shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Ira flashed into view. “Hey. Good to see you two.” He rubbed Shyllee’s head. “Where’s Esán?”

  The Star of Truth burned a warning. Brie clutched his arm. “I thought he was with you.”

  “He was until those Mocendi guys invaded the plantitarium. We split up. You know he’s sick again?”

  Brie paled. Elf put a finger to his lips. His eyes glazed over, then cleared.

  “He’s by the waterfall in Human form, too sick to make it here on his own. We’ll need to help him.”

  Ira looked from Brie to Elf. “Can’t you two teleport him here?”

  Elf shook his head. “The whole ship is on an alert to find us. If we teleport as a group, our energy signature will give us away. The only thing that keeps us safe in here is that the roots comprising the walls act like a buffer.”

  Brie focused her intention on Esán. “I think he can walk with help. I’ll go. Be ready to assist if I need you.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but shifted and crawled through the mesh vent. Unable to discern anyone within the boundaries of the plantitarium, she shaped a butterfly and made her way to the waterfall. Hidden by a border of shrubs, she found Esán. His already pale cheeks looked even paler. The purple smudges beneath his eye that had all but disappeared were back. Shallow breathing hardly moved his chest.

  Brie fought her rising panic and brushed his short hair with her fingertips. His eyelids fluttered open. A semblance of a smile tugged at his mouth.

  “Knew you’d come.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “Depends on how far.” He struggled to sitting.

  “The wall is a couple of city blocks as the raven flies. I can support you.”

  His nodded. “Better move. Company on the way.”

  She helped him to his feet and slipped an arm around his waist. Halting to allow him time to catch his breath or to manage a wave of pain slowe
d their progress. Halfway to their hiding place, Elf appeared, picked him up, and strode toward the hidey-hole. Brie trotted after them, her senses alert for trouble. Elf and Esán stepped through the wall.

  The plantitarium door opening sent her into butterfly form. Thorlu entered with Renn Whalend in tow.

  Renn gazed around with a look of bewildered astonishment. She rotated slowly. “This is…” She shook her head. “Where? How? This is truly unexpected, Thorlu. Did you do this?”

  “No. This is the work of The MasTer. When he escaped from El Stroma, he brought plant samples with him. Once they filled only a small portion of the space.” Thorlu glanced around. “Now we have a paradise.” Moving to her side, he guided her to revolving shelves on which smaller plants grew. “You asked about herbs. This is where you will find them. You must, however, have a gardener with you.”

  A uniformed man entered and joined them. “You called me, sir.” He spoke with deference, his heavy accent softening the words.

  “I did, Teola. This is Renn Whalend. Please assist her. When you are done, escort her back to Research Lab One.” He crossed to the door and paused. A hard stare left Renn shaken. “Don’t let her out of your sight. Get her to tell you where the missing young people are hiding, and I will reward your efforts.” He flashed his charming smile and vanished.

  Renn saw the man beside her tense. Gentle eyes found hers. “It would be best if you told me what he wants to know. Thorlu is a hard man.” He held up a hand. Two fingertips were missing. “I have disappointed him before.”

  Renn controlled a shudder. “I’m sorry to put you at odds with him again, but I know nothing of the children, except that they are onboard and missing.”

  A gentle smile washed her with warmth and understanding. “And you would not tell if you knew. It is not your way. These children… What are they to you?”

  “They are my son’s best friends.” She moved to a row of plants. “I need a small amount of winter cress, laverian, and monel leaf. Do any of these grow here?”

  He rotated the shelves, extracted samples of each, and placed them in small containers. “Thorlu will not give up, you know. You can tell him later, or you can tell me now.” He held up his whole hand. “And save my fingers.”

  Renn tipped her head. “You’re good, Teola. If I knew anything, I would be tempted. Please take me back to the lab.”

  The door slid aside, and he ushered her through. He said no more about the children, but asked her harmless questions regarding her life in Idronatti. She felt no mind probes until he had left her in the lab. Placing the three containers at her work station, she focused her thoughts on her notes. When the probes withdrew, she wandered the lab, nibbled a few bits from the lunch tray, and walked into the supply closet.

  Brie materialized. “That was weird.”

  “It was weird and, therefore, quite disconcerting. I don’t know what he gleaned from the conversation, but be on guard.” She held out a small vial. “Give this to Esán. It will ease his pain. Tell Ira to use Efillaeh as well. We can’t cure him, but we can make him more comfortable. Go.”

  She picked up a small box and walked to her station.

  Teola smiled down at her. “Do you always talk to yourself, Renn Whalend?”

  “Yes. It helps me clarify my thoughts.”

  He continued to smile. She sighed and began to gather the ingredients for the spray that would give The MasTer control of the Inner Universe.

  Gregos worked the sails and shouted instructions to Bibeed and Renn. When he glanced over his shoulder to check on his brother, his heart jolted. Mist and sea churned around the small dinghy. It bounced one way and then the other on the turbulent water. He tore his gaze away and scanned the shoreline. The cove opening came into view. Tamosh and Cayled were on their own.

  Working to keep the boat on course took all his concentration. Bibeed proved an able sailor but still… SeaBella was an unknown.

  “Coming about,” he hollered.

  The booms swung across. The sails luffed, filled with wind, and sent SeaBella gliding through the bottleneck into a beautiful cove lit by the last rays of the descending sun.

  He had briefed the women on what had to be done to anchor safely. He couldn’t have asked for a better crew. Before he knew it, the anchor was down and set, sails were lashed in place, and SeaBella glowed golden in the fading light.

  Darkness settled over the cove. Bibeed went below to fix a meal. Renn stayed at his side.

  “Tamosh and Cay will find us, won’t they?”

  He put an arm around her shoulder. “They’d better.”

  She stared through encroaching night. “They weren’t that far behind.”

  He forced a smile. “Looked like The MasTer’s Reach gave ’em trouble they didn’t expect. What’s important is that the bad guys sailed right on by. That’s why we can light a lantern to guide our boys home. Keep your eyes peeled. If ya see something, give a soft whistle.”

  Renn sighed. “I don’t know how to whistle.”

  Gregos turned her to face him. “Guess it’s about time ya learned.” He pursed his lips and whistled a soft tune.

  She rewarded him with a delighted laugh and puckered her lips. Nothing came out. Again and again, she tried to make a sound.

  “Lick you lips, Renn, and keep your tongue back.”

  A small shrill sound brought with it a girlish giggle. She gave him a hug and tried again. When the whistle trilled louder, she grinned. “I have to show Bibeed.”

  He watched her descend into the cabin. Her innocence and spontaneity charmed him. Tamosh whispered through his thoughts. Where are ya, brother?

  Renn climbed part way on deck, whistled, and grinned. “Dinner’s ready.”

  He joined the women and sat staring at his bowl. Bibeed patted his hand. “He’s alright, Gregos. I’d know if something happened to Cay. You’d know if Tamosh were in trouble. Now quit staring at your food and eat it.”

  The boat rocked with a sudden shift in weight. Gregos jumped to his feet. “Into the V-berth,” he said in an undertone.

  “No need to panic.” Tamosh stuck his head in the open hatch and waved. He clambered down with Cayled and Yaro close behind.

  Bibeed threw her hands up in delight and enfolded her brother in a bear hug. “Darn good thing ya came back.”

  Gregos raised a brow. “Thought ya knew he was alright.”

  She put her hands on her hips and favored him with a shattering look. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

  Renn held out a hand to Yaro. “I’m so glad you are safe.”

  He touched her palm and then his heart. “I, too, am glad, Renn Whalend.”

  Bibeed set bowls of food on the table. “Let’s eat, and you can tell us your adventures.”

  Gregos listened to his brother’s tale with knowing smile. When he was done, he gave him a pat on the back. “Like I always say, Tamosh… When it ain’t your time, it ain’t your time.” He winked. “You did good work today.”

  45

  Master’s Reach

  Myrrh

  T ibin stepped from the trees into the small clearing where Endes, the apprentice Mocendi, slumped on a stump. Sibine sat at his feet, Adin in her lap. Sprawled to one side, the wounded soldier moaned in pain.

  Endes lunged to standing, dragging Sibine with him. Adin whimpered. Sibine rocked him gently, her brown eyes never straying from Tibin’s face.

  The apprentice sputtered, “W-where is the t-Tinpaca? If I am not set free, they both die.”

  Tibin swallowed his fear. His head bobbed. “Word has been sent to the Guardian of Myrrh. She is the only one who can release you from the grove. She will be here soon.”

  Endes clutched Sibine shoulder. “I want my freedom now.”

  Tibin forced himself to remain calm. “Sibine has done nothing to you. Let her go. The grove only imprisons those with evil intent. You might discover that releasing her and Adin would set you free.”

  An ugly scowl set the young man’s jaw. “Do
n’t tell me your fairytales.” He grabbed Adin, climbed up on the stump, and held him above his head. “This is your son, right? If you want him to live, make the Tinpaca set me free. Bring the Tinpaca or—”

  The sound of men laughing, the scuffle of feet, the noisy disassembling of makeshift tents filled the copse of trees.

  “What’s the racket?” He jumped down and shoved Adin at Sibine. Cradling her sobbing child, she sank onto the stump and hummed a quiet tune.

  Endes growled. “Stop that noise.”

  Adin cried louder.

  Eyes huge, Sibine gazed at the angry man. “He will quiet down if you stop yelling.”

  Endes brought a hand up.

  Tinpaca Mondago walked from the trees. “I wouldn’t harm them if I were you.”

  Swinging around to face him, Endes scanned the woods. “What’s all the noise?”

  “My men are returning to camp. It seems your master has left Myrrh.”

  Endes’ scowl wavered. “You lie. He would never leave me behind.”

  Mondago shrugged. “He did not leave of his own free will. It is clear that you are much smarter.” He indicated Sibine. “You hide behind a mother and child.”

  Pride stiffened the man’s spine. “I am smarter. So you just bring that Guardian woman here or… Wait.” Doubt crept into his tone. “Your aren’t playing with me, are you?” He yanked Sibine to her feet. “If you are, she pays.”

  Tibin started forward. “Don’t touch—”

  The Tinpaca’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “It would be foolhardy for me to play with a desperate man.”

  “Desperate. What makes you think I am desperate?”

  Tibin looked up at the tall RewFaaran Tinpaca. Danger radiated in the air around him, and yet his voice remained calm and his demeanor steady. Tibin looked back at Sibine, searching for fear in her eyes. He found none. Her expression was calm, her eyes on his face, trusting.

  Mondago cleared his throat. “Since it is clear you are not desperate, it would do much for your situation with the Guardian if you were to release the Wood Tiffs and allow me to help my wounded man.”