Jordett leaned in. “Do they have a communications system?”
“It depends on where you are on the planet. Desert dwellers communicate via sand tappers.”
“What’s a sand tapper?” Torgin asked.
Allynae scratched his head. “It’s rather like beating on a drum in code. You use a special tool to beat on the sand. It amplifies the sound and sends it through the surface. There are directional beacons throughout the desert to transfer the message and carry it where the sender directs. It takes a lot of practice to get it right.”
“That sounds more technical than nineteenth-century Earth. How about elsewhere?” Jordett asked.
Allynae rubbed his prickly top lip. “A little more technical, I suppose. They do use telepathy and have a mail system of sorts, something akin to the telegraph, but not as reliable.”
Torgin memorized every detail. He caught Ari’s eye. Dropping his gaze, he watched her trace a figure eight on the tabletop. Tonight at midnight I will meet the twins, and we’ll make plans of our own . His ever-present anxiety fluttered in the pit of his stomach.
3
ConDra’s Fire
DerTah
N omed stretched out on his bed. Time with Wolloh that morning had left him emotionally exhausted. The meeting with the Dreelum and Esán had added to his fatigue. All he wanted was a nap. The harder he tried to sleep, the more awake he became. Moments from the morning in Wolloh’s company kept surfacing. Giving up, he let his mind pursue its chosen course.
At sunrise he had been summoned. The early morning coolness had chased away the lingering effects of sleeplessness and left him alert. Wolloh waited for him at the arena’s center. “Seyes, join me for flight around the ranch.” He shifted to an osprey and soared into dawn’s pink and lavender sky. Nomed shifted to the great horned owl and followed. Flying with Wolloh always made him happy. As an osprey, the man he respected above all others showed no evidence of the crippling effects of a shape shift gone wrong. The flight had left him feeling exhilarated.
Afterward, they sipped hot tea in front of a slowly dying fire in Wolloh’s study. Even though he hadn’t been ready to share his misadventures in Myrrh with his mentor, he had been glad for the time alone.
Wolloh sat across from him, holding his tea in both hands. He took a deep drink and set it down on the table by his chair, then angled his smooth, unblemished cheek toward him. “So…did you achieve your goal?”
“I did not.” Anger clipped the words short. “I had Almiralyn encased in ice and Evolsefil within reach.” He scowled and put down his cup.
“Are you going to leave me in suspense or tell me what happened?”
Nomed hesitated. Did he really want Wolloh to know how badly he’d bungled things? Squaring his shoulders, he said, “I underestimated my opponents and my henchmen. The Pentharian changed allegiance. Emit knows why. Almiralyn’s nieces, Esán, even their Theran friend Torgin, exhibited talents I had not anticipated.” He shook his head. “And that tower in the Terces Wood… Its sentinel flummoxed me and sent me back to DerTah without the Evolsefil Crystal.”
Wolloh’s disfigured profile turned his direction. “And how are Gidtuss, Thaer, and Omudi feeling about that?”
Nomed’s heart thumped. He swallowed a lie and told the truth. “They’re none too happy. How did you know? I mean… Never mind. You miss very little.” He frowned. “You could have told me you knew.”
“Why? You’re a grown man. If you choose to become involved with likes of those three…” The grimaced mouth became more pronounced and tugged the tortured cheek taut. The head turned and Wolloh’s good eye scanned his face. “Something happened on Myrrh that you did not expect.”
Nomed rubbed the scar on his cheek and ran a hand over his mouth and chin. “Somay, my brother, was there. He’s Esán’s father. The boy is my nephew, Wolloh.” He looked at the man across from him. “For some reason his presence in my life has opened me up and left me raw. I don’t know why.”
Wolloh massaged the calf of his mangled leg and leaned back in his chair. “My dearest Seyes, for such a smart man, you are always obtuse when it comes to your emotions.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Isn’t it enough that I failed? Almiralyn and Myrrh have both survived. Evolsefil is still on Myrrh. What a magnificent crystal!” For a brief instant, it materialize in memory…seven feet tall with six smaller crystals circling its base… He sighed. “You should have seen it.”
His mentor smiled. “I believe I just did.”
Nomed’s eyebrow shot up. A laugh burst from his throat. “You are a devil, my friend.”
Nomed gave up on sleep and sat up. The rest of the meeting had been about Esán and his introduction to the Dreelum. Well satisfied with the impression his nephew had made on the DerTahan leaders and especially on Wolloh, he allowed himself a moment to revel in that victory. Tomorrow Esán’s assessment begins and Wolloh will see how talented he is . Rubbing his hands together, Nomed laughed to himself. He knew that once Wolloh began to work with Esán, he would not allow the Dreelum to interfere.
Tonight his nephew could take care of himself. He planned to spend a social evening in TheLise’s company. He splashed water on his face, smoothed his shoulder length chestnut hair back into a low queue, and changed to a shirt of russet silk. A look in the mirror told him he was handsome, regardless of the scar on his right cheek. His hazel eyes gleamed with pleasure. Whistling to himself, he left his quarters in search of the Dreelas of the Sea of Trinuge.
Still fuming at the conversation he had overheard after his departure from the conference chamber, Esán strode into his quarters and sprawled on his bed. No one was going to control him.
A soft knock brought him upright; his eyes narrowed as he came to his feet. Acute senses informed him the man on the other side of the door was a stranger. A friend? Or a foe? There’s only one way to find out. He pulled the door open.
The man held a tray laden with food. “May I come in?” The voice, somewhat throaty and warm, held only respect. The dark, almond-shaped eyes smiled.
Esán stepped aside. The man crossed the room to place the tray on a small table in the corner. “My name is Corvus Difner.” He looked at the open door and waited.
Closing it, Esán turned back to study the man who watched him with a steady, quiet gaze. Appearing to be about Nomed’s age, he was tall, lean, and well muscled beneath his servant’s uniform. Blue-black hair lay in loose layers around a face that shifted in and out of focus. Esán blinked. The features stabilized…a narrow nose, a mouth that curved naturally into a smile, a dimple on his right cheek that deepened when he spoke.
“I know you were brought here against your will.” The words were barely audible.
“What do you want?” Esán kept his voice equally quiet.
“May I sit down?”
“If you like.” Esán indicated a chair next to a rosewood dresser and perched on the edge of his bed.
Corvus leaned forward. The intensity in the black eyes demanded his full attention. “You mustn’t try to escape, Esán, at least not yet. Learn what you can learn, and when the right moment presents itself, you’ll know. I’ll be near. If you need help, hold the thought in the back of your mind, and I’ll come.”
“Who are you?” Esán sent a gentle probe into his mind.
“I’m your friend. You’ll find nothing in my mind to the contrary.”
Esán’s nod acknowledged the truth in the man’s words. “They wish to break my spirit, Corvus. I will not let them.”
“Play their game, Esán. Learn everything you can.” He crossed to the door. “I’ll be near.” He closed it soundlessly behind him.
As Esán reviewed the conversation, the burden of being alone in the enemy’s camp lifted, leaving him light-headed with relief. Suddenly hungry, he pulled up a chair and examined the tray. Thick, spicy soup and warm bread assuaged his hunger and strengthened his resolve.
Night air from the open window helped to restore his
good humor. Once the sun dropped below the dark horizon line, the air cooled quickly. Its freshness swept the stale heat from his stuffy room. He yawned and prepared for bed. The sun turning had been long. He drifted into dreams filled with the dark-haired man.
A sharp knock on his door startled him awake. Too little sleep made his mind foggy and his body heavy with fatigue. The lack of light outside told him it was too early to be up. Another sharp knock demanded an answer. He stumbled to the door and pulled it open a crack. The male servant he had met his first night in DerTah met his bleary gaze with a slight smile.
“The master is waiting to receive you.”
“Who?” Esán tried to shake his lethargy.
“Master Wolloh awaits you in the outer yard. Please dress quickly. Layers would be best. When the sun rises, the heat returns with a vengeance.”
Esán closed the door and leaned against it. Gathering his scattered senses, he crossed to the washstand and splashed cool water on his face. When his toilette was complete, he dressed. It would never do to meet Wolloh with sleep still clogging his mind. He jogged briskly around the room to wake up his heart and send fresh blood to his brain. When he felt fully awake, he stepped into the hall.
“What’s your name?” he asked the waiting servant.
“I’m Seval.”
“Are you from DerTah?”
“No, my home was on the planet of…” He paused. Confusion skittered across his face. Tightness touched his smile. He shook his dark auburn hair back from his face. “We had better hurry. Master Wolloh has only a small reserve of patience, especially in the morning.”
They walked down the hall, their steps a rhythmic patter on the stone floor. Torgin would like this sound . Esán hummed under his breath, remembering his friend’s love of musical composition.
All too soon, Seval led him into the chilled darkness of the outer courtyard. How can it be so hot when the sun is up and so cold at night? Esán shivered and wrapped his cloak more tightly around his slim body.
Seval pulled open a wooden gate and led him into a large, round arena. At the far side, a bent figure waited in the glow of a lantern. The light cast a shadow over the deformed side of his face, creating the illusion of unblemished handsomeness. Wolloh moved forward, and the illusion shattered. With an uninterested wave of his hand, he dismissed Seval. The servant melted into the dimness of early morning as though he had never been.
“Well, boy. It is time to begin an assessment of your talents. Stand where you are, and do not move.”
From a darkened doorway, Nomed watched. Wolloh would not allow him to participate but had given him permission to observe from a distance. He felt a touch of resentment at his mentor’s presumption. Esán was, after all, his find, his apprentice, his nephew. Careful not to draw attention to himself or his unruly thoughts, he moved deeper into the shadows. Wolloh was not someone whose anger he wished to incur.
He gently probed Esán’s mind and smiled. The boy had masked it prior to entering the arena. Wolloh would be amused. Nomed was impressed. Esán had intelligence with the potential to outstrip his own. He also possessed an impressive talent pool. What will Wolloh discover that I have missed? Will he, as I expect, take Esán as his student? Or will he farm him out to the Dreelum od DerTah? Wolloh’s voice cut into his reverie.
Esán knew he was under the microscope. So is Wolloh , he thought firmly. By the end of today, I will have a much better understanding of Nomed’s mentor . For the briefest of moments, he wondered if Corvus were near. Then, with practiced skill, he closed his mind further and arranged his face in an expression of open acceptance.
“You need not mask your mind. I have no need to probe it and will, for the moment, respect your request that I not do so.”
Esán remained quiet.
“Today we learn who you truly are, boy.” His voice changed—grew sterner, demanding. “Do as I say, and you will leave here today unscathed. Disobey and…”
The unfinished sentence spoke volumes. Esán shoved away a tremor of fear.
Dragging his withered leg, Wolloh limped closer and leaned on his cane. His disfigured face remained hidden by darkness but for a gleam in his sightless eye. “Let us begin.” He tapped the ground with his stick. “You can teleport. Move to the gate and return here.”
Esán flashed to the gate and back. Will I ever get used to this ability?
“Now to your quarters and back.”
Esán teleported to his room, refreshed himself with a deep drink of water, and returned to the arena.
Wolloh’s powerful hand gripped his neck. “Do no more or less than I ask.” He dropped his hand. “Am I clear.”
“You are most clear.” Esán ignored the throbbing in his throat.
“Now, teleport to the place in the desert where you landed when you first arrived in DerTah.”
“Would that be when I came through NaiDisbo Gateway or when Nomed kidnapped me?” He kept his voice level and cool.
Wolloh’s good eye sparked with an amused thought. “The spot where you first met the Fire ConDra. And, Esán, return here immediately.”
Esán felt his heart clutch. A Fire ConDra had almost killed him.
“Now, boy! Or are you afraid?”
Esán clenched his fists and arrived at the spot in the desert of DerTah where he had seen his first Fire ConDra. Nothing but sand. His hands relaxed, and he flashed back to the arena.
Wolloh pointed across the space. “Teleport that lantern here.”
Esán focused his intent. The lantern floated to Wolloh and hovered beside him.
“Return it.”
The lantern floated back and settled on the table.
A metal pole flew out of the shadows. Wolloh snatched it from its trajectory. “Form this into a figure eight.” It hovered in the air between them.
After assessing the metal of the pole, Esán pictured it bending. Much to his surprise, it formed into the required figure and fell with a thud to the sandy ground.
Wolloh continued his commands. “Tell me who is in this arena.”
“You, Nomed, and the Dreelum od DerTah—with the exception of Gidtuss. There are three small birds, a myriad of crawling creatures, and a shadowed thing that I do not recognize.”
“What do you sense outside the walls?”
Esán stretched his consciousness outward. “The gradual awakening of life. Servants are beginning their various jobs. Animals sense the sun’s return. Seval guards the gate. At a greater distance, the desert prepares for the return of the sun. A lizard scurries across the sand, a rabbit burrows deeper, a small red fox catches one last bite of breakfast…”
“Enough. Now tell me what is happening on Myrrh.”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“You didn’t try, boy. Do it now.”
Focusing his thoughts, he conjured Myrrh up in his mind. He saw Brie and Ari in the Tower of Nemttachenn, watching him disappear through the vortex in Nomed’s steel grip. An impression of the tower reassembling itself, the departure of his fellow adventurers, a conversation around Mira’s kitchen table all flashed through his mind, and then it went blank. Astonishment shot through him, followed by relief that he had seen no more.
“Come on, boy, before I lose patience.”
Esán described what he had seen.
Wolloh’s deformed face showed neither emotion nor interest. “One last thing…without moving, I want you to ward off anything that is thrown in your direction, thoughts, objects, entities. Are you ready?”
“May I have a moment, sir?”
“A brief moment.”
Esán centered his thoughts. He had no idea what he was about to encounter or how he would respond. Trust. I have to trust my instincts. Trust . He inhaled. “I’m ready, sir.”
Nomed’s mind raced as he watched his nephew obey Wolloh’s commands. He had known the boy could teleport—that was no surprise. Simple telekinesis hadn’t been either, but bending the rod showed a more refined talent than even he had suspec
ted. The greatest surprise had been Esán’s ability to know who was in the arena and beyond. How on DerTah had he been able to sense happenings on Myrrh?
Glancing around, Nomed searched the shadowy area for the Dreelum, annoyed that he had not been aware of their presence. He also felt dismayed that they were a part of today’s assessment, but then why shouldn’t they be? They were, after all, Esán’s potential teachers. Nomed clenched his jaw and reminded himself that his return to DerTah had not been his choice. Or had it? Wolloh had a hold on him, one that would be difficult to break even if he wanted to. He tensed as a ball of indeterminate weight shot toward his nephew.
Esán did not move. he did not tense. He did not take his eye off the ball. When it arrived an arm’s length from his face, it hit something, bounced off, landed on the ground, and rolled away. A ball from the other side of the arena ricocheted. Esán held himself steady as objects flew at him from all directions, first one at a time, then faster and from everywhere at once. As suddenly as they had started, the objects stopped. His instincts sharpened and focused with an urgency that warned him of danger. He increased his vigilance. His energy field shimmered around him. An insubstantial cloud of gray flew straight at him. Eyes that glowed like smoldering coals stopped just short of his face and hovered.
Wolloh held up his clawed hand. The burning eyes wafted his direction. “You may go.” His voice was as gentle as a caress. The smoky entity sputtered a hiss and puffed out of sight.
Esán felt the protective field around him collapse. On the verge of exhaustion, he knew he would fail another test.
Suddenly, Nomed was beside him. His strong arm slid around his waist. “Enough, Wolloh, I told you he’s ill.” Nomed guided him across the arena away from Wolloh’s hammering commands.
Esán walked in a daze, only vaguely aware of his uncle’s strong presence and support as he escorted him to his quarters and left him to recover. The minute his head touched the pillow, fatigue dropped him into a deep sleep. A sharp pain behind his eyes heralded his slow return. He ached all over. Thirst clawing at his throat left his tongue cracked and swollen. Someone lifted his head. Cool water slipped between his dry lips. His eyes fluttered open. Relief engulfed him.
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 3
