Twisting his ears in her direction, he snorted.
She ran a hand along his muscled neck. “Take them into the foothills and hide. Avoid the soldiers in the woods at all costs. I’ll call you when it is safe to return.”
He nuzzled her shoulder before trotting into the paddock where Paisley had assembled the other horses and Tam, Torgin’s pony.
“Open the gate, Paisley.”
The big man swung it wide.
Gemlucky whinnied and galloped along the edge of the Terces Wood. Passing the main trail into the forest, he led his charges down a little used track that would take them away from the Demrach Gateway.
Satisfied Gemlucky would keep them out of harm’s way, she hurried back to Grantese Tesilend’s stall. “Yuin, please wait outside. Keep your eyes open! We’ll be right with you.” She nodded to Paisley. “I’ll need your help.”
The Grantese watched them with wary eyes.
“You will soon rejoin your fellow soldiers.” She halted in front of him. “But first, I must block a memory or two.”
Rigid with resistance, he jammed his feet against the ground. A quick push propelled his chair backward. It crashed against the wall.
“Paisley, please help Grantese Tesilend hold still.” She spoke quietly. “This won’t take a minute. If you fight me, it will be painful. I suggest you remain calm.”
With Paisley negating the RewFaaran’s ability to pull away, Almiralyn placed her hands on the man’s temples and blocked only those memories pertaining to the Pentharian. Lorsedi must not know of their presence in Myrrh. They must remain her secret weapon.
Finally, she whispered a quiet word and removed her hands. The RewFaaran’s eyes closed and a series of small snores mingled with barn dust and hay. She looked down at her prisoner. “You’ve been well trained, Grantese Tesilend. May your battles be great ones and your sun cycles long.”
She looked up at her loyal friend and protector. “Untie him and lay him on the ground. His comrades will wake him when they arrive.”
She exited the stall and walked into the sunlight, Paisley’s large frame a shadow behind her.
Yuin emerged from the gloomy interior of the barn. “What are your plans?”
“Fly back to the gateway. Send Jeet through with a warning to return to Nemttachenn. You stay on guard. I’ll send word as soon as everyone is safe in the tower.”
“What about you and Paisley?”
“We’ll take the Intersect. Paisley can wait at the tower for Jordy and Allynae while I warn the Wood Tiffs and the Nyti to stay hidden.” She smiled at the ruby Pentharian. “Thank you, Yuin.”
Yuin returned her smile. “It is an honor to fight by your side.” He bowed and shifted. Strong vulture wings carried him over the Terces Wood, high above the advancing enemy.
21
ConDra’s Fire
DerTah
A fter greeting Yaro, Ira stepped apart from his friends to catch his breath. Unable to shake the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important, he looked down at his body, felt the weight and the breadth of it, and ran a hand through his short, cropped hair. He closed eyes that he knew were as blue as Almiralyn’s. When he opened them, Yaro studied him from several yards away. As though the Pentharian knew his thoughts, he blinked. The strange pupils dilated and narrowed. The corner of his red mouth turned up momentarily.
Ira dropped his eyes and studied the shape of his hands. Their sturdy squareness seemed strange to him, but he wasn’t sure why. He wondered if the lines on his palm really outlined his past, present, and future. If so, what story would they tell? Uncertainty flooded through him. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he tried to focus on Brie as she explained to Yaro what had occurred since their arrival in DerTah.
The Pentharian’s tattooed face showed nothing as he listened. Ira marveled at his alien beauty. Intricate tattoos covering his face, torso, and arms depicted his clan and lineage. Gold and silver loops ran from the tip of his ears to his jeweled lobes, signifying initiations and successes in battle. A carved stone ring piercing the cartilage of his nose symbolized his recent passage from Penthary to full Pentharian, from adolescence to adulthood. His eyes traveled from Yaro’s mass of long braids down his humanesque torso to his scaled legs and tail, the tip of which twitched as Brie talked. Ira pulled his hands from his pockets, gave them a speculative stare, and looked back at Yaro. Does it feel strange to shift form? Brie did it. Maybe I should ask her what it feels like to be a ConDria .
Yaro seemed to sense his confusion. Once again, he glanced his direction. A slight nod and a brief, thin-lipped smile made him feel less alone.
Brie finished talking and now listened to Yaro. Her expressive face displayed a series of feelings. RewFaaran soldiers gathered in Myrrh’s Terces Wood. His comrades had traveled to Myrrh to assist Almiralyn.
Lorsedi’s soldiers march in Myrrh. The drop of the sun below the horizon compounded the cold that crept into Ira’s body. Pulling his kcalo closer around his broad shoulders, he glanced at Torgin, who watched his heart brother with admiration and relief. Yaro made the world seem less frightening for the boy from Domlenah Uptown Blue in the city of Idronatti. Standing apart and timid, Nichi tried not to stare. Ira understood. He would never forget his first meeting with a Pentharian.
His eyes drifted to Brie’s face. In only a few weeks, she had changed so much that Ira hardly knew her. And the ConDria—he still found it hard to believe that Brie could change into a creature of shimmering water that sang with a voice like ringing crystals. He tugged at a short curl and wondered at his lingering confusion. I can shape shift, can’t I? Uncertainty returned. His thoughts took him back to the beginning of this strange adventure.
Introducing Torgin to Myrrh on his fourteenth Sun Cycle Celebration seemed like a good idea at the time. Mira had been delighted to see them. They had met Esán and had headed into the Terces Wood with the pony Tam and Buster, Mira’s dog. Ira’s throat tightened. Buster had died trying to protect them. He couldn’t shake the guilt he still felt at not being able to save him. And then—the adventure had really begun.
Now here they were in the middle of a red desert on the planet of DerTah. Life turned and twisted and tramped him through one escapade after the other. He looked at the distant horizon. Wonder what’s next?
In the small hidden room at Shu Chenaro, Esán’s assailant whispered next to his ear, “Don’t make a sound. Nod if you understand.”
Esán moved his head in response. The hand pressed over his mouth relaxed. Its owner stepped into the light.
Stebben put a finger to his lips and pointed at the far wall. Indicating that Esán should stand beside him, he reached up and pressed his thumb into an almost invisible indentation just above his eye level. The wall rotated inwards, carrying them with it. When they arrived on the far side, it closed soundlessly behind them.
Stebben produced a lite-stick that drove the darkness away and illuminated a narrow passage. “You can speak now,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“How did you know where I was?” Esán scrutinized the man’s face.
His lips pursed and then shaped a barely perceptible smile. “Master Wolloh sent me to await you. He felt sure you would know not to return to your room.”
The Major Domo produced a change of clothing and waited silently while he slipped out of his red robes and into jeans and a T-shirt. When he was dressed, Stebben took his Tyro costume in exchange for a reddish cloak and the small leather book. “It is urgent that you disappear and take Seval with you.”
Esán slipped into the kcalo, tied the ties, and wrapped the long cords as though he had always worn one. The book on DerTah went into his pants pocket. “Where do I find Seval?”
“He will be in the arena.” The Major Domo gave him a second kcalo. “You know he is a troubled boy?”
“I know. Can you tell me why?”
Stebben shook his head. “Master Wolloh says you must discover the answer. He asked me to tell you that the
boy is in grave danger and the twins can help.” Reaching behind him, he grabbed two backpacks and handed them to Esán. “You’ll need these. Go quickly. The party will break up soon.”
A faint noise on the other side of the wall brought Stebben’s finger again to his lips. “Go!” He mouthed.
Esán shut his eyes, pictured the arena, and arrived in a deep shadow opposite the gate. Squinting through the dimness, he searched for Seval. Curled around himself, the boy formed a forlorn heap, near the entrance. In the space of an instant, Esán arrived beside him.
“Seval?” He touched the still figure.
The boy came to his feet in one startled movement. “Why am I here?” The uneasy question quivered in the air around them.
“We have to leave, Seval. I need you to trust me. Do you understand?”
“Leave? Where? Why?”
“I’m not sure why you need to leave, but I am very clear why I do. Wolloh told me to take you with me. Here, put this on.” He handed Seval the kcalo and helped him tie it in place. “I have friends who are in the desert near here. Take my hands. We’ll go to meet them.” Confusion brought color to Seval’s face and a stutter to his words. “I-I-I c-can’t l-l-leave here, Esán. I h-h-have t-to…” A blank look wiped all expression from his face.
Esán took the boys hands. “Shut your eyes and know that everything will be fine.”
Footsteps pounding in their direction made Seval’s hands clutch harder.
I need to figure out where the twins are. I wish I had more time . Esán squeezed Seval’s cold fingers. The gate flew open.
Brie’s index finger traced the zigzagged cut on her chest as she listened to Yaro describe what he knew of events in Myrrh. The salt from her fingertip made it burn. The Sebborr’s face flashed into memory.
“Brielle, you are hurt.” Yaro’s concern drew her back to the present—the desert, her companions, the burning.
Ira pulled Efillaeh from its scabbard. “Here, let me help.”
Brie held the jagged edges of her shirt aside, the silver tip touched the shallow cut. The redness paled, leaving a faint white scar. Ira looked perplexed. “Why didn’t it disappear?”
Nichi’s brow furrowed. “When Sebborr leader leaves his mark, sign remains for life. ConDria must bond with him or she die. No other man dares claim her. If other man touches her…” She shivered.
Ira’s hands flew to his hips. His expression darkened. “Brie’s not bonding with that horrid man.”
“We have more important things to worry about than Sebborr,” Brie said. “Night is almost upon us.” She looked at the Dansgirl. “Do we make camp, or do we travel further?”
Nichi played with the rope at her waist. Indecision held her tongue quiet. The subject of her concern looked down at her. Understanding dawned in his alien eyes. Gathering her courage, she made herself answer the ConDria’s question. “We must travel to the camp of my people. But…” Words stuck in her throat. Blood flushed her cheeks with color.
The Pentharian named Yaro knelt in front of her. “You do not know me, Nichook. I am strange to you. Perhaps you fear I may be a danger to your people?” She nodded, her eyes never leaving his face.
“What can I do to help you know that I mean you no harm?”
Brie placed a hand on the strange creature’s shoulder. “I swear to you, Nichook, that Yaro is our friend. I pledge my life forfeit if he should prove untrue.”
Torgin stepped to his other side. “Me, too.”
“We all swear.” Ira moved next to Brie.
Nichi gripped the medicine bag at her throat and bowed her head. Her inner knowing spoke in her heart. “I honor your trust and your truth, ConDria.” She tucked the medicine bag beneath her kcalo. “But, Yaro, you not come to camp as Pentharian, or my people act out of fear.”
“I can shift to another form. What will not frighten your people?”
“Be desert fox?”
As quick as the snap of a spark, a rust-red gold fox sat in his place—its tail wrapped around its haunches, its golden eyes bright and alert.
Astonishment erase Nichi’s last vestige of fear. “You good, Yaro. Now we go to WoNadahem Mardree.”
“And who is WoNadahem Mardree?” Ira demanded.
Nichi scowled at the brown-haired boy. “She Atrilaasu Oracle and head of tribe. Come, we hurry. Be there before sun goes.”
22
ConDra’s Fire
Myrrh & Thera
K arrew sped on dark wings toward the entrance to Vascorrie, searching out a safe path for Merrilea and Sparrow. Their danger escalated with each passing minute. Fresh air lifted him in easy flight and drew him up into the night. Landing on a bare branch, he tipped his head to watch the silhouette of a blue heron cross the path of the moon, Norio. An urgent need to turn his attentions elsewhere drove him to focus on the job he must complete here. He soared upward.
“Karrew! They’ve taken flight.” Sparrow’s urgent message sent him swooping back into the primavers’ lair.
Hundreds of tiny, rustling wings made his nerves shudder. Time was of the essence.
Sparrow led Merrilea between tarwish infested pools. Tarwish… She only knew of them through the folklore of the Central Mountains—water wraiths that hungered for Human brides and launched into feeding frenzies when Human men appeared on the scene. Between them and the primavers, she and Merrilea would be lucky to make it out of the cavern alive.
A soggy sound not far behind them tempted her to grab Merrilea’s hand and run. Instead, the whir of miniature wings overhead sent them both into a low crouch. She wrapped an arm around her friend’s trembling shoulders.
“They’re gathering. We have to move.” Merrilea inhaled panicked gulps of air.
Sparrow’s mind searched the cavern. “Karrew, where are you? We need you .”
The wafting breath of raven wings alerted them to his arrival. “I’m here. This way.” Without waiting, he half-flew, half-hopped ahead of them through the dreadful dark of Vascorrie.
Keeping her gaze glued to his body, Sparrow guided Merrilea around one pool after another. The sudden scent of night filled her nostrils. We’re almost there. Heady with relief, she stumbled.
Merrilea’s hand steadied her then froze on her arm. “Don’t even breathe.” Her teeth chattered around the words.
The sound of something breaking the water’s surface, the wheeze of an exhaled breath, and the stench of decay made Sparrow’s heart leap into her throat. Pupiless, iridescent yellow-green eyes gleaming out of the darkness stared directly into hers.
A chorus of cackled laughter exploded over their heads. Merrilea grabbed her hand. “We can’t escape.” Her horrified whisper evaporated into sheer terror.
Sparrow hugged her friend to her. The pounding of their hearts melded, vibrating like a timpani. Thick, mucousy moisture trailed down her arm. She felt Merrilea flinch away from something and held her tighter. A slimy tongue licked her cheek. Tiny hands plucked at her hair. Primaver fingers yanked it in all directions. The volume of their crazy cackling increased as they pulled it harder and tighter. Her scalp burned in protest. Tears filled her eyes. Dread overwhelmed her as something wrapped her in its waterlogged length. Alli, I love you. Ari, Brie…
More tiny wings, too many to count—more cold wetness that clung to her body—more sucking, licking sogginess brought her to the point of screaming. Merrilea sagged against her, unconscious. Sparrow held her, sobbing.
A sudden gust of fresh air fanned her cheeks. Bright white light burst the darkness into silver edged pieces. Primavers howled, their razor sharp teeth gleaming, and clung to her hair and clothing and backpack. With a sucking sound, a snakelike creature detached itself from her body and, with several others, splashed into pools and vanished.
The light shimmered into the translucent form of a man. From his open mouth, golden sparks spewed forth and whirled through the air. They sought out primavers and sent them screaming into the black depths of Vascorrie.
Sparrow felt t
he weight of Karrew on her shoulder. A relieved sob rocked her body. The light dimmed, and One Man strode to her side. Scooping Merrilea up in his arms, he led the way down the path. Too dazed to think, she stumbled after him. Her knees gave way. Strong arms held her upright, lifted her. She knew no more.
When she opened her eyes, moonlight softened the darkness. Stars sprinkled the night sky like tiny pinpoints of hope. Fresh forest air washed her lungs clean and cooled her feverish cheeks. Merrilea and One Man knelt at her side. “I—”
“Shhh. Soldiers fill the woods.” One Man’s face, half hidden in shadow, looked worn. Merrilea’s blonde hair hung in sodden tendrils around her face.
“How? ” Sparrow looked around for the man who had carried her out of the cavern.
“Later. Can you stand? ” His arm slid around her shoulder and leveraged her to sitting.
Ignoring the throb in her head and the aches in every part of her body, she struggled to her feet. At first her legs refused to support her weight and then steadied.
One Man helped Merrilea to stand. He placed a hand on either side of her face and whispered soft words. Color rushed to her cheeks. He turned to Sparrow and repeated his actions. Her fatigue fled. She knew she could walk.
One Man dropped his hands. His eyes glazed over, then cleared. “They’ve discovered I’m gone,” he whispered.
“Karrew?” Sparrow asked.
“Gone.” One Man guided them through the underbrush.
Sparrow glanced over her shoulder. No sign of their passing marred the landscape. Her curiosity about Esán’s father quickened. He was more than he seemed, but she was sure he had not carried her out of Vascorrie. So, if not him, who?
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 17
