“Are you hurt?” Sparrow inhaled a rasping breath.
“No.” Merrilea gulped in air. “Just out of shape.”
Voer’s tattooed face appeared from the dim interior. “All remains good.”
Sparrow closed the door. For a moment, she remained still and allowed her eyes to adjust and her breathing to calm. She savored the sweet smells of fresh hay and saddle soap and longed for the peacefulness of her childhood. Voer smiled down at her. She met his gaze and gave him a small nod. He understood. Hurrying between the stalls, she led the way to the double front doors. Opening one enough to slip through, she squeezed Merrilea’s hand. “I’ll hurry.”
Jogging the distance between the barn and the house, she rounded the corner and stepped onto the screened-in porch. The soft squeak of a hinge on the kitchen door sounded like a scream in the quiet. She froze. The open door framed a figure she knew well. Tears welled up. She hurried into her mother’s arms.
32
ConDra’s Fire
DerTah
B rie looked from the Atrilaasu Oracle to Yaro, who stood next to her. Butterfly wings in her stomach beat a warning of what was to come.
“Tell me about the Sebborr, Brielle.” WoNadahem Mardree’s strange eyes shimmered in the light of the fire. Her mouth drew a stern line beneath her nose.
Brie gulped in a breath. “There were four. One, the leader, had eyes darker than night that bored into mine like hot irons. I couldn’t look away, WoNa. He left his mark on my chest with the tip of his sword and claimed me as his own. It was awful. Nichi told me I could never be with another man, or I would die. Is that true?”
“We shall see.” She extended her left hand. The small, red serpent coiled on her palm. “Show me the cut.”
Fighting to control trembling fingers, Brie lowered the neckline of her blouse and tunic to expose the thin, white zigzag. With unerring accuracy, the Oracle moved her hand to within an inch of the scar. Varied hisses sounded as the serpent’s tongue sniffed the flesh.
“What healed the wound, Brielle?” she asked as the small snake slithered from sight.
“Almiralyn gave Ira a knife. He touched it to the cut.”
“Efillaeh,” murmured the Oracle, placing a hand on her heart. “The Unfolding moves faster than I realized. You are very fortunate that Almiralyn is forward thinking. The knife has made it possible for me to undo the damage done by Dahe Terah, the leader of the Sebborr. What I must do will be painful, but it is the only way to free you from his control. You must trust me fully, Brielle, or harm will come to both of us.”
Brie ran a finger along the scar and swallowed her fear. “I trust you, WoNa.”
The Oracle stretched her neck and tilted her head from side to side. “Yaro, if you can numb the area around Dahe’s mark, the pain will be much less.”
The Pentharian’s gold scales glistened as he moved around the fire to sit beside her. He placed a tattooed hand on hers and studied her face with his reptilian-like eyes. “I can do this, Brielle. I have both serum to numb and venom to kill. If you will trust me, I will rub my numbing agent around the scar.”
“Thank you, Yaro. Will you stay with me?”
“He will hold you so you cannot jerk away. Yaro, there is a cup on the table. Brielle, move closer. I must be able to reach you and the fire.” WoNa shifted her cushion and pushed her sleeves back from her wrists.
Yaro retrieved the cup and knelt. “I will drain my eyetooth into this and then rub the serum on your skin. It will not hurt, but the numbing will be instantaneous.”
He placed his tooth over the side of the pottery cup. It lengthened and a clear fluid dripped from it one drop at a time. When he removed the cup, the tooth retracted. With great gentleness, he smeared the sticky liquid around the scar.
When he finished, he turned to the Oracle. “Will my serum help you, WoNa?”
She held out her left hand. “I would be grateful for some on this hand.”
Yaro spread the numbing agent over her palm and set the cup aside. Sitting behind Brie, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides.
“I will hold you and protect you, Daughter of KcernFensia and descendant of RewFaar. We are ready, WoNadahem Mardree.”
When WoNa pressed her left hand against the scar, Brie felt nothing. The Oracle’s sightless eyes closed. The snake’s whistle shrilled.
Brie gasped. Only Yaro’s strong arms kept her from jerking away. Images of the Sebborr’s face poured into her mind—the eyes, the beak-like nose, the cruel mouth twisting into an angry sneer. His howl of denial exploded in her ears. WoNa pressed harder. Brie’s body arched in response to the sensation of ripping skin. Rolling waves of searing pain washed over her. Tears filled her eyes and rolled in a torrent down her cheeks. The Star of Truth added its tingled affirmation to the overload of sensory stimulus. A scream burst from her throat and bounced from wall to wall. Slowly, it melted into nothingness.
In the silence that followed, WoNa withdrew her hand. Emblazoned on her palm was the zigzagged scar, bright red and dripping crimson. Holding it over the fire, she whispered words that Brie could not understand. As each drop of blood exploded in the heat, the Oracle’s face grew tighter and paler. At last, she gave a long hiss and removed her hand from above the flames. The serpent glided onto the scorched palm, licked the last blood from the wound, and once again hid in the folds of her sleeve.
WoNadahem Mardree of the Atrilaasu Dansmen opened her mouth in an agonized cry. Three times, she wailed, her naked pain beating against the walls of the cave. Three times, she brought the palms of her hands together—the sharp smack of skin on skin mingling with her screams. Teardrops splattered on the wounded palm, fizzled, and condensed into a vaporous mist. She closed her eyes and, curling her fingers, held the hand to her heart.
Although Yaro had released Brie’s arms, she could not move. Grateful for his strong chest against her back and the sound of his even breathing next to her ear, she fought to reorient. Terror for the Oracle overwhelmed her. She could only stare.
WoNa wiped the tears from her cheeks with her uninjured hand before grasping the hand at her heart. A deep inhalation, brought the serpent out of hiding. Color rushed back to her cheeks. The rigidity in her body relaxed. Her eyes opened as she exhaled and held out her clenched hand. “It is done,” she whispered and uncurled her fingers. The palm was unblemished.
Yaro looked at Brie’s chest where the scar had been and smiled. “The mark is gone, Brielle. It is magic, and although I do not understand, I am glad to have been part of it.”
WoNa opened her arms. “Come, child, you and I are now blood-bonded. We are family forever.”
Brie put her arms around the Oracle’s neck and sobbed. When she was done, WoNa gently dried her tears.
“Dahe Terah can no longer claim you, but he will search for you. If he were to mark you again, you would be doomed. Do you understand?”
“I understand, WoNa. I won’t let him near me.” She sat back on her heels. “You could have died, couldn’t you?”
“I could have, but I did not.” She stared into the distance. “We have more work to do, you and I, before we can rest.” Her hand reached for Yaro. He took it in his. “Thank you, my friend. Your serum may have saved us both.”
He touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “I am honored, WoNadahem Mardree.”
“And I, Pentharian of ReTaw au Qa.” She bowed her head. When she raised it, urgency filled her voice. “We have more to do and not much time. Please bring the others to us, Yaro.”
The Pentharian disappeared. The red fox trotted away from the firelight, leaving Brie to rest her head on the Oracle’s knee and WoNa to run her fingers through her new daughter’s red curls.
The DiMensioner stood at the window in his room. The conversation with Wolloh and Stebben played over and over in his mind. Absently massaging the scar on his cheek, he stared at the desert vista, where the sun’s ascent chased a crescent moon below the
western horizon. Another time he would have thought the view most beautiful. Today, he only saw a place filled with peril.
Trying to lessen his agitation, he interlaced his fingers and pressed his palms together. Stebben’s report to Wolloh left no room for doubt. Nissasa was an enemy to be reckoned with—a DiMensioner, a probable member of the Mocendi league. How did I miss the signs of his training? At least, Stebben has forewarned TheLise. The thought of her as bait … He dropped his hands to the window sill and continued his review of the conversation. Esán had taken Seval and disappeared into the desert, at least one of the twins had managed to find her way to DerTah, and RewFaaran soldiers tramped through the Terces Wood on Myrrh. Fortunately, Lorsedi’s plans were somewhat more benign than his son’s. Even though he wanted to find the twins, their mother, and grandmother, Nissasa wanted them more—and his goals were far more lethal for all of them, including the servant, Seval. Most important to Nomed…Nissasa wanted Esán. His alarm increased at the very thought of his nephew in Nissasa Rattori’s hands.
Stebben’s sources had also informed him that Lorsedi’s oldest son had made contact with Dahe Terah, the tribal head of the Sebborr, a bloodthirsty band that terrorized the desert dwellers of Fera Finnero. Although Stebben’s source did not yet know what Nissasa had promised them, he was certain it had to do with a takeover of DerTah and what the Sebborr would gain from the coup. To make matters worse, Gidtuss and Thaer were playing right into his hands.
All the news had ramped up Nomed’s concern, not only for Esán, but for TheLise. Every minute she spent with Nissasa increased her risk of discovery. Nomed doubted the man would hesitate to obliterate anyone who got in his way.
He had so many unanswered questions… Where is Somay? What about Sparrow and her mother? Where is the other twin? He stroked the scar on his cheek. Why do I care what happens to these people? Just a short time ago, I would have sought out Nissasa to discover what I might gain from an association with him. Now, I want to wring his neck.
“Nomed. Meet me .” The telepathic message carried an intensity that propelled him to the door of his room. A careful inspection of the corridor informed him it was clear. Grateful for the late night festivities that were keeping the Dreelum and RewFaaran guests lingering in bed, he strode down the hall to the room TheLise had shown him a few sun turnings earlier.
Slipping in, he closed the door with a whispered thud. A quick survey of the room informed him that it was empty. Urgent need drove him across the tile floor. He pressed the hidden indentation. The wall moved, the floor revolved, and he found himself in a small room. TheLise stood in the shadows, her back to him.
He noted the tear in her gown and curbed his need to go to her at once. “I’m here, TheLise.”
She turned. Her hand held the neck of her dress in place. A bruise raged on her cheek, and her swollen lip showed traces of blood. One puffy eyelid drooped, hiding the gray iris beneath it.
Nomed’s fists clenched at his side. His jaw ached from the strain of staying the oath that wanted to explode from his lips. The scar on his cheek pulled his mouth into an angry sneer, which he wiped away as TheLise moved out of the shadows and into his arms.
She pressed her injured body against his chest. “You should see the other guy.”
“Does Wolloh know?”
“If we tell him, Seyes, it will only make matters worse.” She turned in his arms as the wall revolved behind them and the subject of their discussion stepped into the room.
“And if you don’t tell, he will know and come to you.” Wolloh studied her injuries and ran a gentle finger over her cheek. “Nissasa will pay, you know. Of course, the coward has taken his leave.” The High DiMensioner looked at Nomed. “I think we will risk teleporting to my private study. I know you have not developed this talent, but you can support me.” He put an arm around the Dreelas and linked elbows with Nomed. “Shall we?”
Their arrival in a room Nomed had not seen before answered the question. Stebben waited with a medical kit beside an overstuffed chair. After easing TheLise into it, Nomed and Wolloh settled into chairs on either side of a square table.
While Stebben cared for the Dreelas, Nomed surveyed his surroundings. Unadorned, whitewashed walls contained no windows, nor could he see evidence of a door. A hutch with shelves and a cupboard underneath, a comfortable looking brown sofa against one wall, and several chairs upholstered in varying shades of orange completed the décor. He glanced at Wolloh, whose gaze rested on TheLise’s damaged face and torn clothing.
Stebben finished administering first aid and looked up, his expression grim but relieved. “She’s bruised but otherwise fine. No broken bones and no concussion.”
TheLise laid an elegant hand on his arm. “Thank you, Stebben. Had you not interrupted Nissasa when you did, things could have been much worse.”
Wolloh placed a glass of brandy at her elbow. “Sip this, my dear. When you are ready, we need to know what you learned—what Nissasa gleaned from you.”
Stebben replaced his supplies in the medical kit and leaned back in his chair. “Good thing you can think on your feet, TheLise. Wolloh sent me to check on you by way of delivering a message to Nissasa. A man I instantly disliked answered my knock. Nissasa, he explained, was engaged and unable to come. When I refused to tell him anything, he told me to wait and shut the door in my face.” He gave TheLise an appraising look. “I am finding RewFaarans to be irritants in any number of ways.” She squeezed his arm. “After a couple of minutes, Nissasa, a nasty scratch blazing a trail down one cheek, yanked open the door, thrust his rat-like face in mine, and demanded to know what I wanted. The unknown man stood behind him with a weapon drawn. I ignored him and presented Nissasa with the note from Wolloh.” He glanced at the High DiMensioner. “Whatever it said must have shocked him because he turned white as a desert lily. The door slammed in my face. By then I knew you, TheLise, had made your escape. Nissasa’s howl of frustration confirmed it. I hurried here.”
TheLise held up her brandy. “To you all for saving me from what could have been far worse.” She took a sip and rested the glass on the arm of the chair. “Nissasa is a pig. The beating I took is not because he was after information, although that would have happened eventually. I refused to submit to him like some RewFaaran courtesan he had engaged for the night. He flew into a rage. I don’t envy women on RewFaar if the men treat them the way he treated me. At some point, Gidtuss appeared in the doorway. Nissasa threw me to the floor. I pretended to hit my head and laid still. After he made sure I was unconscious, he demanded to know what Gidtuss wanted. The stupid man told him the Sebborr were amassed and ready to ride in search of Esán and that Nissasa’s secret band of rebels was also ready. That’s when you knocked, Stebben. Gidtuss snuck out the bedroom door. While Rikell, the dreadful man you saw, answered the sitting room door, Nissasa tried to wake me. I choose not to cooperate. As soon as they had both left the bedroom, I escaped.” She touched her split lip. “You’re right, Wolloh, he will pay.”
Nomed refilled her glass. “The question is…what’s our next move?”
The expression on Wolloh’s disfigured face was enough to make Nomed hope he never did anything to deserve that look.
33
ConDra’s Fire
DerTah
E sán walked beside Seval as they plodded through the sand to WoNa’s cave, only half listening to the boy’s barrage of questions.
“What if I don’t want to see the Oracle? What did she tell you this morning? Why does she want us? Me?” Seval tugged at his tunic and kicked the sand as he walked.
Esán gave him a sidelong glance. “We’re guests in her home. I imagine she’s being a gracious hostess. She is the Atrilaasu leader.”
Seval walked to the edge of the water. “I wish I…”
The words died away, leaving in their place the confused and haunted expression Esán had seen so often. “Don’t worry, Seval. The sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll know what she wants.” He waved at
Ira and Torgin, who stood at the cave entrance, and jogged to meet them. Seval followed, his steps hesitant and his expression filled with misgivings.
Torgin shook his head. “He’s more afraid of stuff than I am.”
Ira chuckled. “And that’s sayin’ a lot!”
Torgin’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “Why are you always so mean?”
“I’m not mean, Torg, just honest. Hey, Esán.”
“Hey, yourself, Ira.” He winked at Torgin and grinned.
Seval joined them. Esán linked an arm through his. “Let’s find out what WoNa wants, shall we?” He guided him into the cave, where they found Brie seated at the Oracle’s feet.
WoNa’s luminous eyes blinked. She smiled. “Hello, Esán. Please bring your friends closer.”
Brie slid to one side so the boys could kneel, one at a time, in front of the Atrilaasu leader. At first no one moved. Brie caught Ira’s eye. He knelt and dug his hands in his pockets. WoNa’s delicately tattooed fingers explored his features. “You have many talents yet to discover. Be patient and they will manifest when needed. Your heart will always tell you the truth of a matter. Listen to it with care. I honor you, Ira.”
“Thank you, WoNa. I am honored to be at Eissua.” He retreated to the far side of the fire.
Yaro’s fox nose pressed into Torgin’s palm, urging him to go next. The tall boy knelt, his green eyes brimming with anticipation. “I am Torgin.”
Sensitive fingers roamed his face. “You are a talented musician, Torgin. Music will always be part of your life. You have a good heart. Let it guide you, and your fears will evaporate.”
“I…ah…Thank you.” He shuffled around the fire and plopped down next to Ira.
Esán touched Seval’s arm. “It’s your turn.” He sat down near WoNa.
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 26
