The UnFolding Collection Two

by S. K. Randolph

  “And how do you propose we get there?” Allynae said.

  Almiralyn put a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “You’ll have to use your talents and your training, Alli. You are as powerful as I am.”

  Her brother wrapped his arms around Sparrow and pulled her against his chest. “To save our daughters and Esán, I’ll set aside my dislike of DiMensionery. It has been a very long time since I shifted, but I imagine my need will fuel the memory.”

  Almiralyn heard the matter-of-fact statement and expelled a held breath. Unbidden tears welled up in her eyes. “Thank you, Alli.” She blinked them away and looked at his companion. “Sparrow, I have never expected you to paint to my need or purpose, but it is time. Without Elcaro’s Eye, I must ask you to tap into your innate wisdom and show us where the children are. The chances of Yaro winning a battle with a Mindeco are slim. The sooner One Man and Allynae find them, the better.”

  Jordett removed the finished canvas from the easel and leaned it against the wall. One Man replaced it with a new one. Sparrow cleaned her brushes. She drank cold mountain water from a flask and returned it to its hook on the easel. “I’ll call you when I’m done. ”

  Almiralyn smiled at the telepathic message. “Good to ‘hear’ you. I’ll be waiting .” She herded everyone from the cave.

  Kieel sent Reana, Ashor, and Mumshu to patrol the camp and to watch for other soldiers who appeared to be involved in Cantruto’s plans. Feeling a desire to help if needed, he zipped from shadow to shadow until he landed at the back of Mondago’s tent. Slipping under the edge, he shot to the top of the tent and hovered in the dimness.

  By the entrance, Voer and Stee changed, one to a small bat that clung to an upper seam in the tent and one to a snake made invisible by the grassy ground. Kieel knew they would shift as needed to achieve their goal. Mondago crouched in the darkness.

  A soft hoot sounded. A man’s figure hunkered down outside the entrance. Kieel landed on a cross member, his hand on the knobby head of his walking stick. Another hoot brought a second man into the shadow of the tent across the way.

  The first man crept into Mondago’s tent and dropped to his knees by the table. A small bat landed on his shoulder. He crumpled to a silent heap. Mondago dragged him to one side and crouched in his place.

  Soldier number two arrived at the entrance. Cantruto appeared behind him. Creeping forward, the soldier crouched opposite Mondago. Cantruto drew his knife and tiptoed toward the cot. A snake slithered up the pant leg of the second soldier. He melted to the ground as Cantruto lifted the knife and plunged it into the mound on the cot. Yanking the blade free, Cantruto gave a frustrated growl and pulled back the blanket.

  Mondago straightened. “You looking for me, Cantruto?”

  The man swung around, the knife upraised for the kill.

  “Not a good idea.” Mondago lifted his firearm, the barrel at the level of his adjutant’s heart.

  Cantruto lunged for Mondago, caught him in the chest, and pitched him backward. The weapon flew across the tent. The knife flashed as the men rolled. Blood oozed from a cut on Mondago’s upper arm.

  Kieel scanned the tent for a Pentharian. The men rolled again. Cantruto straddled the Tinpaca’s chest. Holding him by the throat, he poised the knife for the kill. A bat shot from the shadows. The adjutant crumpled. Mondago groaned under the sudden weight of his collapsed body. Voer materialized, rolled the unconscious man aside, and helped Mondago to his feet.

  Mumshu darted through the entrance as Kieel landed on Voer’s shoulder. “Soldiers are stirring. Two are headed this way.”

  “We’ll be close by,” Voer said and shifted.

  Kieel took Mumshu by the hand and escorted him from the tent. Mondago had the Pentharian to keep him safe.

  Sparrow put some distance between herself and her canvas. The sudden temptation to fling her brush across the cave made her shake her head. Trying to paint on demand is tying me in knots. I can’t think. And I certainly can’t create anything . She approached her easel, grabbed a paint-splattered cloth, and stared at her unsuccessful attempt to accomplish what Myrrh’s Guardian had requested she do. The painting blurred. Memories stirred.

  She remembered the first time she picked up a brush. Her father had given her a set of paints for her sixth Sun Cycle Celebration. I loved the splash of colors on paper, I loved the feel of the brush in my hand, and I loved the scent of the paints. From the first brush stroke, I was hooked .

  Training at the Art Institute in Idronatti had honed her skills and challenged her to grow technically. But it wasn’t until a few moon cycles ago that she discovered the depth and wonder of her creative talent. The intensity of my drive to paint—the fear my work sometimes engenders when I paint what I’d prefer not to know—all began with the twins’ trip to Myrrh . Her studio in Almiralyn’s cottage flashed into memory—the DiMensioner’s desire for revenge creating chaos through out the land.

  Absently, she set down her brush and cloth and pushed her hair behind her ears. Painting can be tiring and rewarding, frightening and enlightening. Her completed canvases filled her thoughts. A picture of them lined up side by side made her smile. They merged into one another and changed as though they were alive. I painted them by letting my talent and creativity do the work. I painted them by letting go!

  She blinked and stared at her less than successful first attempt. Replacing the canvas with a new one, she picked up her brush, wiped it clean, and closed her eyes. Everything faded, falling away into a deep and absorbing silence. The gradual emergence of an image brought her mind to an alert standstill. She envisioned the image becoming sharper. An almost audible snap brought it into focus. Another snap left her mind grasping for the memory.

  She opened her eyes and dipped her brush in a blob of paint on the palette that had found its way into her hand. Soft laughter danced around the space. Just get out of your own way, silly . A reddish wash filled the background with color. A sandstone arch outlined an entrance where pale greenish light illuminated four steps leading to a white stone path that vanished in blackness.

  She sent a telepathic message to Almiralyn and backed up to ponder her work. Painting always transports me to another level. I love the feel of the brush on the canvas. Mixing colors, creating highlight and shadow, adding texture and detail…all of it makes me feel whole and gives me a reason for being . She sighed, rinsed her brush, and wiped it on the paint cloth. I am so grateful for this gift.

  Almiralyn walked briskly into the cave and crossed to the canvas. “Well done, Sparrow. I felt sure you could help.”

  Sparrow shook her head. “It was touch and go. For awhile I thought I’d fail.”

  “But you didn’t. We now know exactly where to find our young ones.”

  Allynae preceded One Man through the entryway. “It’s obviously in the desert. What is it?”

  “Nesune Ruins in Fera Finnero.” Almiralyn stepped to one side so One Man could take a closer look. “You’ll need to visit Eissua Oasis and meet with WoNadahem Mardree. She’ll be able to tell you how to find it.”

  One Man’s face lit up. “The Atrilaasu Oracle. She’s one powerful lady. Her help will be much appreciated.”

  Allynae wrapped his arms around Sparrow and rested his chin on her head. His usually good-natured expression grew serious. “How do we find the oasis?”

  “When it’s time, you’ll use the desert portal.” Almiralyn paused as Jordett and Merrilea arrived, accompanied by Yuin, the ruby red Pentharian. “I’m glad you’re here. I have made a decision.” With the painting of the ruins for a backdrop, she faced the semicircle of comrades. “Before we make any more plans, I am going to reinstate Elcaro’s Eye. It’s unfair to expect Sparrow to be our sole source of knowledge.”

  A young DeoNyte male strode into the cave and marched straight to her. His stance and the set of his jaw suggested stubborn resolve. “I want to go to DerTah to find my friends,” he said. “I know I can help.”

  “Zugo, I can’t let you go to Der
Tah. The desert heat would kill you. Your parents would never forgive me.”

  He dropped his hands from their resting place on his hips, but kept his pale eyes on her face. “I have to do something, Almiralyn. I can’t sit around here while they’re in danger.”

  “I understand, Zugo. Right now, however, I have a very important job to do. When it is accomplished, I’ll let you know how you can help.”

  He sighed. “Yes, m’lady. Father asked me to tell you food is prepared.”

  “Thank you, Zugo. Tell Yookotay we’ll join him shortly.”

  She waited until he was out of earshot to turn to Allynae and One Man. “There is a decision you must make.”

  “And what’s that?” Allynae sounded anxious.

  “I’m torn between asking you to wait to leave for DerTah until Elcaro’s Eye is functional or sending you now. I have no idea what you will run into there. The fountain can tell us what we need to know to keep you safe. What I am clear on is that events are moving very fast.”

  “We must go now,” One Man said. “Whatever problems we are to face will manifest when they will. Esán and the twins are in danger. Waiting won’t make them any safer.”

  “But it might keep you safer.” Merrilea kept her voice steady, but her eyes betrayed her concern. “You can’t help the children if something happens to you.”

  Allynae studied the painting. “I agree with One Man. Let’s go.”

  Sparrow started to speak. He stopped her with a hug. “We’ll be careful. I think we should eat before we leave.”

  As the group dispersed, Sparrow took one last look at her painting. “Nesune Ruins…” She joined Allynae by the cave entrance. “Our daughters are there, Alli. Promise you’ll find them and keep them safe.”

  He cupped her hands in his and pressed them to his lips. “I’ll do my best, SparrowLyn. That’s all I can promise.”

  She kissed him lightly. “Your best is all I can ask.”

  Almiralyn watched them leave the studio, grateful that Allynae was willing to forsake his dislike of DiMensionery in order to help. She gazed at the painting. Food would have to wait. She had more important things to do.

  44

  ConDra’s Fire

  DerTah

  T orgin couldn’t take his eyes off Yaro’s face. Only moments before, its pallor had intensified his facial tattoos. Now the skin, infused with its natural golden tan, softened their dramatic effect. His Reptilian eyes, gleaming with life, held only a shadow of his recent brush with death. Once-blue lips had regained their natural red tint. Even his gold-brown braids glistened with health.

  With Corvus’ assistance, Torgin helped Yaro to sit, propped against a bench. As their friends dispersed to give the Pentharian space to reorient, Torgin sat back on his heels and looked more closely at the tattooed chest where the Mindeco’s claws had shredded the skin and torn the flesh beneath. No sign remained, only sculpted muscle under smooth skin covered with intricate designs. A thin red scar, the only outward sign of the battle, ran from just below his right hip to just above the lizard-like joint at his knee.

  A smile lit Yaro’s face. “You saved my life.” His hand rested on his chest. “I honor you, my brother and comrade.”

  Torgin’s face grew hot, but he kept his gaze steady and touched a hand to his heart. “I, too, honor you, brother of my heart.”

  Corvus offered his hand. “You have much courage, Torgin. I am privileged to call you friend.”

  Torgin clasped it. “Thank you for coming when you did. Your knowledge saved Yaro.”

  Suddenly, he was surrounded. Brie hugged him. Ira clapped him on the back. Esán’s handshake spoke volumes, and the respect in his eyes made Torgin stand taller. Even Desirol joined in what Torgin felt was a celebration, not only of Yaro’s healing, but also of his part in it…of his bravery. His heart filled with a rush of feelings unlike anything he had ever experienced…humility, pride, a sense of belonging. But more than that, he felt confident and unafraid. He knew he could deal with life’s challenges, whatever they were.

  It was time to look ahead. Corvus and Yaro conferred together while Ira and Desirol sat on a bench and listened. Brie and Esán moved to the side, deep in conversation. Feeling the need for time alone, Torgin wandered back to the Statues of Sinnttee. He studied the selenite faces, amazed at the artistry and the individuality of each one. Although he liked them all, Manitullie, the god of youth and young adulthood, appealed to him in a way the others did not. I didn’t think I was special in any way . He watched the light change on the statue’s face. But perhaps I am.

  “Magnificent, aren’t they?” Yaro smiled down at him.

  “They are. What did you and Corvus—”

  “Give that back, Des. It does not belong to you.” Ira’s irate exclamation turned to anger. “I mean it. Give it back.”

  Torgin swung around to find him wrestling with Desirol for the knife, Efillaeh. A violent push sent Ira stumbling. Corvus lunged for the RewFaaran and sent him bouncing across the floor. Jumping up, Desirol shoved Esán away from Brie. Yanking her against him, he faced the group. “Stay back, or I’ll hurt her.” He wrapped an arm around her throat as Esán started to move. “She means nothing to me, Esán. But this knife does. I must take it to my father.” He angled his body toward the statues and waved the knife at Yaro. “Don’t try anything, Pentharian, or she will pay.” Overly bright eyes darted to Torgin. “Give me the Compass of Ostradio, Torgin, or Brie will suffer.”

  Torgin did not move. “Are you sure you want to do this? We are your friends, Desirol.”

  Mixed emotions did battle on his face. He appeared to waver. A fanatical gleam wiped away the moment of weakness. He pulled Brie closer. “I must go to my father. Give me that compass. And Esán will take us to him.” He held the knife to her throat. “Right, Esán?”

  Wariness replaced the cooperative atmosphere in the conference chamber as Lorsedi came to his feet, the authority of his rank and position enveloping him like a cloak. “Desirol is on DerTah?” Eagle-sharp eyes dissected the members of the group seated around the table.

  Long accustomed to dealing with delicate situations, Wolloh watched him calmly. “Please, Lorsedi, allow us to explain. I believe you will see that what we did, we did with the best of intentions. If you’ll be seated, Stebben will tell you what has brought us to this place.”

  Lorsedi’s eyes, like hot coals, raked Stebben’s face. “What have you got to do with this?”

  “Desirol’s mother, Chyneria, is my sister, sir.”

  “Chyneria…” The Largeen Joram’s hostility lessened. “Please explain.” He lowered to sitting—back stiff and expression inscrutable.

  Stebben cleared his throat. “I think it would help if I shared a bit of my history.” He paused a moment and began. “Chyneria and I were born on Roahymn. When I was twelve sun cycles and Chyneria was eight, our peaceful life there ended abruptly. A Mocendi DiMensioner came to take me away. He killed our parents. I escaped with Chyneria. The only way off the planet was aboard an intergalactic slave ship. A friend of my father’s sold us to the slave master. Chyneria was taken to RewFaar and sold to the man who supplied women to your household.”

  He looked at Gerolyn and bowed his head in respect. “I learned that your sister, Tissent, took Chyneria under her wing and prepared her for life on RewFaar. I will be forever grateful.” He returned his attention to Lorsedi. “The slavers brought a group of us to DerTah. I managed to escape. Wolloh found me in the Towne of TiCeed on Geran. What made him bring me here, he has not said, but I have never been sorry. He raised me like a son, taught me the art of DiMensionery, and at the age of Tulad, manhood, gave me the choice to pursue my own desires or to remain here as his Major Domo.”

  Resting his lower arms on the table, he intertwined his fingers and continued. “When I was old enough to handle the news, Wolloh informed me that he had found Chyneria. She and I had been in touch about ten cycles when she sent me word that she was frightened for her son, Desirol. H
e had overhead something—a plan Nissasa was developing—and had vowed to stop him. The next message I received was a plea for help. Nissasa had kidnapped Desirol, expunged his memories, and with the help of Gidtuss, installed him here at Shu Chenaro. The plan was to drive a wedge between Wolloh and you, Lorsedi.

  “I immediately sought out Wolloh and discussed the situation with him. We decided the best thing we could do was keep Desirol here, where we could protect him.”

  Wolloh took up the story. “I did not tell you, Lorsedi, because Nissasa had begun to gather quite a following. Telling you would have alerted him. He and Roween would have murdered you forthwith. I wanted you alive. Your military expertise is respected and valued in this solar system. More than that, the Inner Universe needs your leadership. Getting you to visit DerTah without raising Nissasa’s suspicions was the challenge. Elcaro’s Eye provided the means.”

  Lorsedi ran a hand through his thatch of red hair. “You helped me to establish the connection to the Eye and showed me my granddaughter.”

  “I knew you were looking for Gerolyn. It seemed the best way.”

  “Where is Desirol now?”

  Stebben answered. “He is with Nomed’s nephew, Esán, Brielle, and their friends. Corvus informed me that WoNa sent them to Nesune Ruins. That’s as much as I know.”

  “And where is Nissasa?”

  A brief glance at Wolloh brought a nod. Stebben said, “My informants tell me he and his men have joined forces with the Sebborr. The last word I received was that they were stuck in a desert storm—which is, by the way, waning.”

  Lorsedi placed his hands on the table, pushed himself to standing, and walked to the end of the room, where double doors opened onto a small garden. He cracked opened the louvered blinds. A linear pattern scattered on the floor at his feet. Sliding the lever, he erased the light and pivoted to face the table. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, High DiMensioner od DerTah.”