The UnFolding Collection Two

by S. K. Randolph

  “Ari and Brie are there. I’ll go with you.”

  “You have paintings to paint. Almiralyn can’t use Elcaro’s Eye, so she needs your gifts to help her foresee what needs to be done. I will be gone only long enough to discover if Wolloh is honest in his intentions and, if so, how to accomplish the tasks of protecting Myrrh and finding our girls.”

  “How will you get there? Aren’t the gateways guarded? What about Fire ConDra?”

  Gerolyn patted her hand. “I will shape a raven and accompany Karrew. Ravens mate for life. It will not seem odd for two to travel together.”

  “How soon?”

  “When I have finished explaining the situation to you.” She stood and pulled Sparrow to her feet. “Come. Karrew grows impatient.”

  “He sent you a telepathic message, didn’t he? ” Sparrow hugged her mother. “I understand.”

  Her mother held her at arm’s length. Her return message was clear. “You are your mother’s daughter! ”

  Allynae stuck his head into the room. “You ready?”

  Gerolyn hugged her one final time. “We are. Do you know where we’re going?”

  He moved to allow them to pass. “I don’t, but Zugo does.”

  Yookotay’s son looked from one to the other and smiled. “You look alike, except for your eyes. Sparrow’s are the same color as the twins.” He fell in step beside Gerolyn.

  Allynae linked his arm though hers. “He’s right, you know. There is no doubt that you and Gerolyn are related. I know you don’t want her to go.”

  “I don’t, but I understand why she needs to and why she is the perfect person to represent Almiralyn.” She looked up at his craggy face. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

  “It would be foolhardy to make a promise I might not be able to keep.” He guided her along the tunnel. “We just have to make the most of whatever time we have together.”

  They arrived at the Nervac Gateway, where Yookotay listened while Almiralyn gave Gerolyn last minute instructions. “This portal has its own set of Keys. The one for DerTah, Tres ed Esti, will take you to the Fera Finnero destination point. You’ll need to be careful, or the guards will spot you.”

  “It will be night when we arrive,” Karrew croaked from the Guardian’s shoulder. “We’ll exit and angle upward. Don’t worry. I will take care of Gerolyn. It’s time.”

  Almiralyn stroked her raven’s chest. “One last thing, Gerolyn. A man named Corvus will assist you when you arrive in DerTah. You can trust him implicitly.”

  Sparrow caught her mother’s eye. “I love you .”

  Her mother smiled. “See you all soon.” The next instant, two ravens shot into the spinning portal.

  38

  ConDra’s Fire

  DerTah

  B rie’s breath caught in her throat. Searing heat blasted the moisture from her lungs. Blazing light burning through her lids made her squint. Half-closed eyes picked out the back of Esán’s head and the sun-drenched side of Torgin’s face. To his left, Yaro sniffed the air. A slight angling of her head brought Ira and Desirol into sculpted relief against the red sky. Although the area where they stood was hauntingly still, a short distance away the sand formed a swirling curtain of red all around them.

  WoNa had said, ‘Be still, and the desert will show the way.’ Brie sent a telepathic message. “Esán, did we make it? ”

  He scanned the area. “I don’t know. All I can see is sand .”

  Torgin stared at the compass. “The picture is gone,” he whispered. “Usually when it disappears, we’re at our destination. What do you think, Yaro?”

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere," Desirol blurted out. "I told you we should stay at Eissua.” The words, sputtered between bared teeth, sounded far too loud in the immense silence.

  “Easy, Desirol.” Yaro searched the terrain. “WoNa did call it the unseen ruins, didn’t she?”

  Ira gasped, “Look.”

  At their feet, a faint strip of shade vacillated in and out on the hot sand. Brie slipped her hand into Esán’s. Torgin clutched the compass and inched closer to Yaro. Ira and Desirol crowded behind them. A faint path solidified and widened at its far end. The air shimmered and steadied. An entrance, framed in an arch of multi-hued sandstone, yawned wide and dark against the whirling sea of red.

  “I g-g-guess we found it.” Torgin gulped and tucked the compass beneath his shirt.

  Yaro studied the arch and scanned the surrounding terrain. “Wait here.” He strode to the entranced and peered inside. Changing to a panther, he pressed his nose into the darkness, sniffed the air, and leapt lightly through the archway.

  Torgin stared after his heart brother. “I don’t think we should go in there.”

  Ira caught his eye and winked. “If we listened to you, Torg, we’d be sitting in Idronatti, scheduled to the minute by the PPP.”

  Torgin scowled. “You make…”

  Brie gasped. All eyes turned her direction. She rubbed the Star of Truth and glanced at Esán. “We need to move .”

  He nodded. “We have company headed this way. We’d better tell Yaro .”

  Ira’s gaze darted from one to the other. “Wish you two would speak out loud. What’s up?”

  The panther appeared in the arch and shifted. Yaro waved them forward.

  Brie ran to his side. “There’s something out there tracking us.”

  Esán joined them with Torgin, Ira, and Desirol at his heels. “I feel it, too, Yaro. I can’t tell what it is, but it’s traveling this way and fast.”

  Yaro looked grim. “A walkway runs through the middle of the temple. I suggest we stay on it. Brie, you take the lead. Esán and I will be the rear guard.”

  Desirol shot the Pentharian a black look and folded his arms across his chest. “Who made you the commander, Yaro?”

  Esán answered in a soft but firm voice. “Yaro has more experience in battle than anyone here. He has also been charged with keeping us safe. If you want to stay out here, Desirol, go ahead. However, I’m willing to bet the entrance will disappear once we’re inside, and you’ll be out here on your own with whomever or whatever is tracking us. Go, Brielle.”

  Not waiting for Desirol’s response, she took a cautious step into the darkness and paused to let her eyes adjust. Cool, damp air filled her lungs. The scent of water wafted up her nostrils. A muted, greenish glow highlighted four steps leading to a stone walkway. Tentative but curious, she descended the stairs and proceeded several feet down the path. She glanced over her shoulder as Yaro, the last to enter, passed under the arch. The sunlight began to dim. Like the shrinking of a pupil, the arch grew smaller and smaller until only a tiny dot of light remained. The dot snapped to black, leaving them in Nesune Ruins with no visible way out.

  Nissasa huddled on the lee side of his rehos beneath the folds of his kcalo. They were so near to Eissua Oasis, yet so far. Anger as fierce as the storm that had brought his troops to a standstill churned in his gut. Wind ripped the sand away from the desert floor and hurled it skyward. Like a driving rain, it pelted down from clouds of red dust. The forces of nature conspired to hold him at bay. He knew this was a ploy to keep him away from Eissua Oasis and the young people he sought. Incensed that he was trapped, he hunkered down and pondered the news he had received prior to his departure from Shu Chenaro.

  Desirol had disappeared from the ranch in the company of Nomed’s nephew. Secure in his belief that Wolloh had no idea of his half-brother’s presence at the ranch, Nissasa hadn’t thought to have him watched—an error he now regretted. His spies had also discovered that his father’s granddaughters, or at least one of them, had arrived in DerTah several sun turnings ago. If a twin was here, it stood to reason that her friend with the Compass of Ostradio might be with her. He wanted her; he wanted Desirol and Esán; he wanted that compass.

  Wind, wailing like a hungry ConDra, caught the edge of his kcalo. Flapping around him, the woven cloth smacked his body. He yanked it down and tucked it beneath his legs. A narrow gap in
the folds of his scarf gave him a view of sand, sand, and more sand. It seemed determined to bury him alive. Fighting the wind, he retied his scarf to better protect his face and eyes.

  TheLise’s sultry, charismatic smile stole into his thoughts, reminding him of the smoothness of her skin, her gold-spattered gray eyes, her passion and fire. Had she cooperated, he would not have hit her. He rubbed the knuckles of his right hand, remembering the impact as it made contact with her cheekbone. A finger touched the scarf hiding deep scratches on his face. He had been unprepared for a fight. Women in RewFaar would never have dared to spurn his advances. When he got his hands on her again, she wouldn’t either. She would be his, a trophy to flaunt when he returned to his home planet as the new Largeen Joram.

  He lowered the scarf enough to peer at the storm. It showed no signs of abating. Settling more comfortably against his rehos, he contemplated the events that had brought him to this point. Although the study of DiMensionery would have been a challenge for most RewFaarans, his ancestry had given him an edge. His grandmother, a country girl from KcernFensia, had been kidnapped from her home planet, transported to RewFaar, and placed in servitude. At the age of eighteen sun cycles, she and her infant daughter, Roween, were abandoned by the child’s father, a soldier in RewFaar’s military. Alone and disheartened, she left the baby with a note explaining her parentage in the chapel in LaTenge Famele and disappeared. At the direction of the Largeen Joram, Lorsedi’s father, Roween was adopted into the household and raised by RewFaaran women. Intelligent, scheming, and shrewd, she had made sure Lorsedi bedded her. Overjoyed with the birth of their son, she began to plan for his future. He would be the next Largeen Joram. When Lorsedi selected Desirol to inherit his position instead of Nissasa, she was furious. In secret, she had arranged for his training in the arts of DiMensionery, the one thing that might give him an edge over his father. Self-satisfaction made him smile. Soon I will be the most powerful man in this galaxy.

  He cast his senses outward. Had RiKell managed to make it to the oasis before the storm? Nissasa was fairly certain his quarry would teleport to some distant spot. If they had, RiKell would find the trail left behind. He would track it and lead his master right to their doorstep, his prize for success—Desirol. A sneer pulled at the fabric of the scarf. Wolloh, High DiMensioner od DerTah, had no idea with whom he was dealing.

  Torgin pushed the hood of his kcalo back and savored the moist air on his skin. Curious about the dim light filtering through the ruins, he strode along the path, looking for its source. Nesune had to be buried beneath the desert, so where was it coming from? A short distance ahead, a spot of brighter light caught his attention. Angling between two raised mounds, he stepped off the walkway. A sudden cold tingling over his feet and ankles stopped him in his tracks. Darkness as thick as molasses climbed his drango boots toward his knees. A shockwave racing through his body left him gasping for breath.

  “Torgin, grab my hand.” Yaro’s guttural command cut through his fright.

  Stifling his fear, he managed an off-balance pivot, grabbed for his heart brother, and missed. Darkness sucked him lower. Hysteria powered his body forward. Strong fingers gripped his wrist. Still he sunk deeper. His wet kcalo wrapped his thighs like a swaddled baby. He could not move. Creeping cold reached his hips. Flashed memories of the death shadow sent him spiraling toward panic.

  Esán appeared beside Yaro. “I can help. Torgin, concentrate on me. Don’t think about the death shadow. Yaro, when I say go…”

  Forcing Wodash od DerTah’s hideous image from his mind, Torgin focused on Esán. The sensation of sinking eased. Little by little the dark receded to mid-thigh. He could see the strain building on Esán’s face and fought to keep his panic from resurfacing.

  Brie placed a steadying hand on Esán’s shoulder as he sank to his knees. He took a deep breath. “Go.”

  Yaro’s powerful pull hauled Torgin out of the muck. The instant his foot touched the white stone, the darkness let go. He staggered, tripped on his kcalo, and fell to his knees beside a panting Esán.

  Yaro peered down at him. “It is good we followed, heart brother, or we might have lost you.”

  Torgin gulped. “Thanks, Yaro.”

  Ira clapped him on the back. “By the Fathers, Torg, did you step in a hole or something?”

  “It looked like you were sinking,” Desirol said.

  Brie knelt beside him. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine.” He put an arm around Esán’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”

  “I used telekinesis to lift you. Whatever is down there fought like mad.” He stood up, offered a hand, and pulled Torgin to his feet. “You’re lucky Yaro was so close.”

  Torgin looked at the darkness stretching from where they stood to the far wall and shivered. “I’m lucky you were both nearby.”

  Yaro herded the group further into the temple. “I suggest we stay on the walkway. I don’t think we want to find out what would happen if the dark engulfed a whole body.”

  Esán held up his book on DerTah. “Let’s find a spot to sit and rest so I can review the information on Nesune. We don’t need any more surprises.”

  Torgin peeled off his soggy kcalo and draped it over his arm. Staying near Yaro, he studied what was visible of the ruins. The stones forming the walkway appeared to be white marble. The walls, at least what he could see of them, were sandstone. At first he assumed they were built of quarried blocks like the entrance archway, but it soon became apparent that they were solid, smooth, and unblemished—no blocks and mortar. Could this be a natural cavern?

  The walk ended at a large circular area about twenty-five feet in diameter. A narrower marble pathway defined its circumference and encircled an intricate, inlaid design depicting a four-petaled flower. At its center, a three dimensional replica of a desert lily, crafted from silver, glowed around a gleaming quartz crystal the size of Paisley’s huge fist. Benches carved from a moss green jade-like mineral sat at measured intervals on two sides of the circle. Across the back, four man-sized statues sculpted from the finest selenite gazed from gleaming, gemstone eyes at the temple entrance. Each offered a bowl—one of obsidian, one of golden citron, one of rose quartz, and one of clear quartz—from which water streamed into a rounded marble trough and swirled down gold-covered drains.

  I bet the fountains are fed by an aquifer . Torgin gave himself a pat on the back. All his work in Geological Studies had paid off. It had been one of his favorite classes. He wondered if he would ever return to school in Idronatti. Did he want to? Not if he had to be what the PPP decided he was to be. His fingers caressed the sheepskin case holding One Man’s flute. Math and science were interesting and fun, but music took him beyond himself. It inspired him—fed the spark of his soul. Glancing around, he wondered how long he had been lost in his own thoughts. No one but Esán had moved onto the path surrounding the circle. “Where are we?” he asked, pushing away thoughts of The City and what awaited him there.

  Esán shrugged off his pack, selected a bench, and began to leaf through the book on DerTah. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  Brie searched around in her pack, pulled out a lite-stick, and slid onto the bench beside him. Ira sprawled on the ground at his feet. As Desirol plopped down beside him, his kcalo flipped open.

  Torgin stared. “Hey, Des, where’s your tunic?”

  Desirol yanked his kcalo closed. “I left it at Eissua. I am RewFaaran, not Atrilaasu.”

  Ira made a contemptuous face. “Well, how stuck up can you get?”

  The RewFaaran was on his feet in an instant. “I am the son of the Largeen Joram. Adoption into a tribe off planet is not appropriate.”

  “What about Nichi?” Ira asked.

  A flush infused Desirol’s fair face. He looked away.

  Torgin draped his wet kcalo over the bench to dry. “Come on, Des. I don’t care if you kept the tunic or not. I want to learn more about Nesune.” He dropped to the ground next to I
ra.

  Giving both boys a black look, Desirol moved apart and sat down.

  Yaro remained standing, his alien eyes alert.

  Esán began to read. “The Temple of Nesune was built by the ancestors of the Atrilaasu Tribe. Buried at the far side of Fera Finnero for more than a century, it was one of the most beautiful and revered temples on DerTah. Constructed to honor NesDu, the desert god of the sands, and RyPhez, goddess of the desert winds, it had at its heart the HeLew od Meti. The four Statues of Sinnttee lined the eastern end of the temple, offering the gift of their water. Created within a natural cavern at the center of what had once been a magnificent series of sandstone cliffs, Nesune’s marble walkways symbolized the path of life. The darkened areas to either side of the path represented the Realm of SeDah. Those foolish enough to wander off the walkway were said to have sunk into the Abyss of the Dead.”

  Torgin shuddered and looked at Yaro. “Thanks, my brother.”

  The golden Pentharian placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head.

  “Does it say anything about the HeLew od Meti and the statues?” Brie asked.

  Esán flipped a couple of pages. “The HeLew od Meti embodies the four phases of Human life…childhood, youth and young adulthood, the middle years, and old age. At its center, the desert lily represents the culmination of the four phases and the ascendance into VeeNah, the home of spirit and light.” He turned another page. “The four statues, Ceeconni, Manitullie, Sorttince, and Tutsasseen, personify the most significant virtue of each phase of life. Drinking water from one of their bowls is said to instill that particular virtue in the recipient.”

  Torgin got to his feet and stretched. “I want a closer look at the HeLew od Meti. I think it might be laid out in line with compass points.” While he talked, he pulled out his compass and went to stand at the opening into the circle. Holding up Almiralyn’s gift, he adjusted his angle until the needle on the face settled.