The boy’s eyes darted from the Oracle to the twin.
Brie smiled. “It’s alright, Seval. Esán will be right beside you. And he’s not frightened.”
A tremble shook his shoulders. He started to speak, ran a hand through his dark auburn hair, and knelt next to Esán. Taking in a hiccupped gulp of air, he closed his eyes.
WoNa’s serpent poked it head from beneath her sleeve. The tongue flicked, but no sound disturbed the kneeling boy.
“I will explore your face to learn you, Seval,” the Oracle said. When she had completed her exploration, she moved her hands to his temples. “If you choose, I will tell you why you do not remember. But it may not be what you want to hear.”
He gripped her wrists and fought back tears. “I want to know, but…”
His whispered words choked into silence. No one spoke. A log on the fire rolling to the side of the pit sounded like thunder. Seval jumped, released her wrists, and fought to calm his ragged breathing. WoNa folded her hands in her lap and waited.
He rubbed his eyes and sank down, fanny to calves. “Please tell me why my memories are only tattered fragments.”
Saffron and blue eyes found his face. “This knowledge will put everyone in this cave and in the Eissua in danger, Seval. If your response is adverse, you could create a chain reaction that will change life as we know it here on DerTah, on Thera and Myrrh, and on RewFaar. Think carefully.”
All eyes were on the boy’s face. Ira’s filled with compassion. He squatted by Seval’s side. “I understand,” he said. “Your memories have been wiped. That’s why you can’t remember, and that’s why you’re afraid.”
Seval shook his head and scooted closer to Esán. “No…I…”
Ira reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I understand, Seval. My memories were stolen, too. An empty mind is terrifying.”
Seval’s face changed as the realization dawned. He looked at WoNa. “Can I get my memories back? Will I remember who I am and where I’m from and if I have a family?”
“With the help of your friends, we can repair much of the damage.” The small serpent’s head writhed back and forth at the end of her middle finger. “We cannot heal the pain in your heart. Nor can I foretell how you will react or—”
“I want to know who I am. I want to understand why this was done to me.”
The snake gave a long and insistent hiss.
Seval turned to Esán. “I…please help.”
Ira pressed his point. “It’s not fair to expect him to know how he’ll respond until he finds out who he is, and what was done to him.” He locked his gaze on Seval’s. “I think you should do this. You deserve to have your life back, whatever it is.”
Brie fingered the Star of Truth. “We will all help you, Seval.”
For some time he sat lost in thought. At last he said, “Please, WoNadahem Mardree, help me to remember.”
WoNa untied her kcalo and slipped it off her shoulders. “It is as you wish, boy. I will need the help of your friends. Esán, sit here in front of me so I may lay my hands on your shoulders. You must be my eyes. Seval, lie down with your head in Esán’s lap. Brielle, kneel on his right. We will need the Stone of Remembering. Ira, remain on his left side with Efillaeh. Torgin, please take out your flute. We will need music. You will know what to play.”
Esán looked from one friend to another as they took their places around Seval. Each brought a special gift to the proceedings. He smiled as Torgin pulled out the flute and ran his musician’s fingers along its silver length. Esán found the presence of the flute comforting. His father had crafted it and given it to Torgin. One Man’s love seemed to rise from it and wrap itself around him and his friends.
WoNa reached down to pat the red fox at her side. “Yaro, guard the door well. No one must enter for any reason.”
The fox gave a small yip and trotted to the cave entrance.
The Oracle’s hands on Esán’s shoulders sent a shock shooting down his spine. “Seval, you are sure?” she asked.
“I am sure.” He tipped his head back, his eyes searching for her face. “Will it hurt?”
“Only time will tell. You must be as still as possible. Your friends will hold you, Seval. Close your eyes, and we will begin. Torgin, please play.
Torgin positioned his fingers and pressed his lips to the silvery instrument. Notes soft and gentle as the first rays of morning filled the cave. With them came a sense of calm that permeated the space and those gathered to assist the Oracle of the Atrilaasu.
Esán placed his palms on either side of Seval’s head, shut his eyes, and concentrated on the boy’s mind. Tattered webs of memory hung limp and gauzy in the desolate emptiness. Occasional flashes of gray light ignited and faded. To one side, a touch of color glowed, changing hue as Seval’s emotions shifted. Wow, that must be his recent memories .
WoNa whispered, “Ira, place Efillaeh on his heart and hold him still.”
Esán opened his eyes a narrow slit to watch Ira put the knife, point upwards, on the center of Seval’s chest. An emerald haze floated from the blade to surround the boy’s body from shoulders to feet. From the amethysts in the hilt, glowing strands of purple light encircled his head. Spiderweb threads of dull gray shivered. Esán gasped. As though a breeze had begun to blow, Seval’s ragged memories filled with energetic wakefulness.
The Oracle’s alto tones merged with Torgin’s music. “Brielle…”
Again, Esán squinted. The Stone of Remembering glistened on Brie’s palm. She balanced it on Seval’s forehead. He moaned and tried to twist free. Esán squeezed his eyes shut. He gripped the boy’s head and held it still. A stabbing pain tore through his brain. Seval’s scream merged with his own.
Music soaked up the strident sound note-by-note until only the beauty of the flute could be heard.
Esán swallowed as electrical impulses flared in his friend’s mind and skipped from synapse to synapse. Color infused Seval’s memories and wove them into a rich tapestry depicting his life—the RewFaaran landscape, his mother’s face, his father’s laugh, and the joy that filled every moment. Hues muted. Darkness changed the mood. New images discolored the tapestry’s weave—a brother’s plot to kill—Seval’s discovery of the plan—a rough covering pulled over his head, ropes around his hands and feet; a table, blinding light, metal straps binding him; searing pain, then nothing. A new image emerged in a pain-misted mind—a horse-drawn wagon, another long blank, and waking up in a room at Shu Chenaro.
WoNa raised her hands. Brie removed the Remembering Stone and Ira picked up Efillaeh. Torgin played a final series of notes—strangely dissonant and melodic at the same time—and lowered the flute.
Esán’s mind blanked. The broken link left him bemused and bereft. He blinked and stared down at Seval’s pale face.
The boy’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he returned the stare. Struggling to sit up, he hugged his legs to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees. When he lifted his head, tears streaked his cheeks. With painstaking slowness, he climbed to his feet and walked to the cave entrance. His shoulders sagged, then squared. He turned. Emotions stampeded across his face like wild horses across a prairie.
Esán saw no fear or confusion. Sadness, frustration, wonder, and deep-seated fury followed one another in rapid succession. Soft facial features grew more chiseled. The forlorn look of a frightened child morphed into manhood that draped confidence around his broad shoulders. Once-sad eyes held a hint of iron will as they traveled from one person to the next and finally came to rest on WoNa.
He bowed. His voice when he spoke had deepened. “Thank you, WoNadahem Mardree, for the return of my life. My name is Desirol Telisnoe. I am the youngest son of Lorsedi Telisnoe, the Largeen Joram of RewFaar, and his chosen heir.”
Brie gasped and jumped to her feet. “Lorsedi’s my grandfather. That means we’re related, Seval…I mean, Desirol.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Then you’re not safe either.”
WoNa’s ha
nds tightened on Esán’s shoulders. The snake’s head appeared from her sleeve and hissed. The crystal on her forehead glowed crimson.
Esán stared at the boy from RewFaar. I shared the return of your memories…none of us are safe, not even Torgin.
Screened by a clump of palm trees near the base of the rock outcropping beside the desert lake, Corvus watched the red fox at the entrance to WoNa’s cave. It raised its nose, sniffed the air, and disappeared inside. He scanned the oasis. He had visited Eissua several times. Today, he surveyed the layout with an eye to its defense. Perhaps WoNa and Narrtep would have some good ideas.
He had news for the Oracle, but his search for Esán and Seval had created the urgency of this trip. Some time ago he had seen them enter WoNadahem Mardree’s cave with Torgin and a tall boy who look enough like Allynae to be his son. That has to be Ari in shifted form. That means Brie’s here, as well.
The fox and a kcalo-draped Dansman appeared at the cave entrance. Stepping from the trees, Corvus trudged down a gradual rise. The man met him halfway. The sun-baked face broadcasted suspicion in the set of his mouth and the squint of his eyes. The unsheathed knife in his hand flashed in the sun.
“Who enters Eissua without the permission of WoNadahem Mardree?” The man’s voice grated like sand on paper.
Corvus pushed back his hood. “It’s me, Narrtep.”
“Corvus! It’s good to see you.” Narrtep slid the knife back in its sheath and held out his hand.
Corvus grasped his arm at the elbow and touched his other hand to his heart. “It’s good to see you, too, Narrtep. Please tell WoNa I have urgent news.”
“She has asked not to be disturbed. I’ll see how much longer she’ll be.”
Suppressing his desire to hurry things along, Corvus studied the landscape. Of all the places he had visited in the desert, Eissua Oasis was his favorite. It held a magic and beauty that appealed to his sensibilities. On top of that, WoNa was a formidable ally. Few outside the desert realized the strength and breadth of her power. He needed her advice and her help.
Narrtep reached the cave entrance. The fox trotted inside and reappeared almost at once. The Dansman sprinted back in his direction, his kcalo flapping around his legs. “She says come now,” he panted.
Striding at the Dansman’s side, Corvus felt a sense of relief that he would soon have the children under his protective wing. At the outcropping, the fox, not Narrtep, escorted him into the Oracle’s cave. He smiled to himself when Yaro materialized beside WoNa and placed a protective hand on her shoulder. I should have known .
WoNa’s snake whistled. She offered her hand. “Welcome, Corvus Difner.”
He grasped it. “I am glad to be here, WoNadahem Mardree. I have news. It’s not good, I’m afraid.”
Tendrils of flaming hair writhed like living things as she inclined her head. The Oracle Stone on her brow glowed deep amber. “Join us. Esán, please introduce your friends.”
Esán flashed him a relieved grin. “Corvus. Am I glad to see you! These are my friends from Myrrh…Yaro, the Pentharian, Torgin, Ira, and Brielle. And this is Desirol Telisnoe, Lorsedi’s youngest son.”
“Esán has told me about all of you. I know he is glad to have you here.” He studied the former Seval, intrigued by the changes. “Hello, Desirol. I am pleased that you have regained your memory.”
“Who are you?” Desirol demanded, suspicion vibrating through each syllable.
“He is a friend,” WoNa said gently. “It is good you have come, Corvus. We must hear your news.”
While the group resettled to make room for him beside her, Corvus studied Lorsedi’s youngest son. His news would be especially difficult for Desirol to hear.
34
ConDra’s Fire
Myrrh & Thera
S parrow clung to her mother like a drowning woman to a lifeline. It had been fourteen sun cycles since they had last seen each other. Fourteen sun cycles since…
Her mother held her at arm’s length. Weary eyes brimming with tears regarded her with concern. “You’d better tell me why you’re here.” She guided her into the big country kitchen and closed the door. “I know you have friends waiting in the barn, but…”
“Lorsedi is looking for us…you, me, and the twins. Almiralyn sent us to bring you back to Myrrh so we—”
Color flooded her mother’s weathered cheeks. The lackluster green of her eyes deepen to emerald. Facial lines faded into porcelain smooth skin. Dull brown hair sprinkled with gray turned a deep chestnut brown and slipped from its restrictive bun to hang in loose shoulder length curls.
Sparrow gasped. “Mother, I…”
In the blink of an eye, the older woman with her sad, haggard expression stared back at her. “I’m sorry, Sparrow. You caught me by surprise. I lost control.” She sank onto a chair and covered her face with the calloused hands of a farmer’s wife. When she looked up, the last traces of the younger woman had merged into wrinkles and graying hair.
Gerolyn’s demeanor became business-like, almost brusque. “Fetch your friends. I’ll wake up, Standin.”
“No need, Gero. I’m here.” A slender, stooped man stood in the doorway.
Sparrow threw her arms around him. “Father, I am so glad to see you.”
His hug was gentle, his smile wistful. “It has been a long time, girl. You’d best do as your mother asked. We may not have much time.”
She hugged him again, skirted the table, and dashed from the kitchen.
Her mother’s voice drifted after her. “How long were you there, Standin?”
“Long enough.”
“I’m so sorry…” The words were cut off by the closing door.
Sparrow hurried across the yard, her thoughts in turmoil. Mom still loves Lorsedi. Poor Standin.
Voer waited with the barn door ajar. She gave a quick explanation of what had occurred and led her companions to the house. Her mother greeted the Pentharian with the grace of one used to aliens in her kitchen. Standin blanched and stuttered an awkward welcome.
Gerolyn refused to talk until everyone had eaten. Sparrow and Merrilea set the table. Soon, plates heaped with crisp brown toast, scrambled eggs, and country ham sat in front of each visitor. Conversation while they ate consisted primarily of Gerolyn’s charming the Pentharian by asking about their home. Standin might have kept his eyes on his plate and his mouth shut except to eat had Merrilea’s questions about the farm not penetrated his shyness.
While everyone else talked, Sparrow studied her parents. Gerolyn’s face, animated with interest, held a hint of the younger woman. Standin had aged in the past fourteen sun cycles. His pale face, creased with wrinkles, wore sadness like a second skin. Once-broad shoulders hunched forward. Large-knuckled hands crippled with arthritis trembled when he lifted a fork to his mouth. He caught her eye. She smiled, a smile full of love.
After breakfast, Sparrow brought her parents up to date with a condensed version of what had occurred during the past few weeks. She began with the DiMensioner’s desire for revenge and his disappearance with Esán and finished with Lorsedi’s soldiers in the Terces Wood and the Tabagie’s message from the High DiMensioner od DerTah. “That’s why we came. You can’t stay here.”
A postural change in Voer’s body stopped conversation. Anxious faces turned his direction. His expression telegraphed a warning as he and Stee moved to stand on either side of the door.
Sparrow’s senses reached beyond it. “It’s One Man, and he’s not happy.”
Voer pulled the door open.
One Man slipped into the room. “Soldiers will arrive in Singtil on the morning train. We have to leave soon. Do I smell food?”
Gerolyn offered him a heaping plateful. “I expect you’ll need this. I’m Sparrow’s mother, Gerolyn, and this is her father, Standin.”
One Man accepted the plate and sat down. “Good to meet you both. We’d better make plans while I eat.”
Voer and Stee returned to the table. “I dislike the idea of returning to
the Demrach Gateway. Too many soldiers are there and on the lookout,” said the blue Pentharian.
Stee nodded. “We also must decide how to travel with this many people.” He looked at Gerolyn. “Can you shape shift?”
Standin interrupted. “You don’t have t’ go back, nor does Gero need t’ shift.”
One Man’s fork stopped midway to his mouth. “We can’t go through Idronatti, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He chewed a mouthful of ham, ate the last of the eggs, and wiped the plate clean with a scrap of toast.
“There’s a gateway much closer than either Idronatti or Demrach Falls.” Gerolyn’s voice held a note of anticipation.
Interest around the table intensified. Sparrow looked from one parent to the other. “I don’t know about another portal. Where is it?”
Standin ran a trembling hand through his sparse white hair. “In the barn.”
“Our barn?” Sparrow stared at her father. “You never told me there was a portal in the barn. What’s its destination point?”
Her mother answered. “It will take us either to Almiralyn’s barn or to Nemttachenn Tower, depending on the Key used to open it.”
“Nemttachenn is our best bet. Voer and Stee know the Key.” One Man carried his dishes to the sink. “I suggest we use it sooner than later. The soldiers have already disembarked in Singtil. And we’d better not leave these dishes.”
Standin stood. “I’ll do those. You’d best go.”
“Standin, you can’t stay here.” Gerolyn’s voice held a note of panic as she hurried to his side. “You know the portal will only support one trip. It will seal as soon as we’re all safely in Myrrh. You have to come with us.”
Voer cleared his throat and pushed back his chair. “Stee and I will scout the road. We’ll meet you in the barn.”
The Pentharian placed their dishes in the sink and slipped out the door. One Man and Merrilea urged Standin to move aside and busied themselves washing dishes.
Sparrow took her parents into the living room. “Please, Father. Come with us.”
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 27
