Gerolyn smiled down at her. “And you have a look of her as well. I understand you have only recently met your father.”
A flash of light and the sudden appearance of a tall man brought all conversation in the room to a standstill.
“Well?” demanded Wolloh.
“It is done, sir. I also erased the trail from the raptor center to here.”
“Good work, Stebben. Any sign of Corvus and Desirol or the Mindeco?”
“None. The ruins were empty as far as I could tell.”
Wolloh’s good eye sought out Torgin. “I believe you have someone to introduce.”
Torgin gave Nomed a challenging look before he placed his flute case on the floor. A small brown spider scuttled onto the polished tile. Yaro materialized beside him. “My heart brother, Yaro the Pentharian from ReTaw au Qa.”
Nomed’s eyes narrowed. Gerolyn smiled an interested smile. Stebben put a protective hand on the back of his master’s chair. Wolloh eased to standing. With his clawed left hand on his heart, he extended his right hand palm up. “Oid eo daize rao, Yaro.”
The golden Pentharian, one hand on his chest and one hand palm to palm with Wolloh, replied, “Oid eo daize rao, High DiMensioner. I honor you heart to heart.”
“And I you. Join us in our council. Your thoughts would be most welcome.”
Yaro hesitated with his focus on Nomed.
The DiMensioner frowned. “So we meet again, Yaro. As I recall you switched loyalties on a whim.”
Ira and Esán exchanged glances.
Yaro’s alien features did not change. “I know not this whim. I chose to support my heart brother.”
Brie caught the edge of a thought. Wolloh’s sightless eye rested on her face. The disfigured cheek transitioned to smooth as he turned his head and locked his good eye on Nomed. The DiMensioner relaxed, stood, and extended his hand. Yaro bowed his head and touched the offered palm with his. The tension in the room dissolved.
Wolloh sank back into his chair. “Tell us what happened in Nesune. Esán, please begin.”
Brie listened with only half her mind. The other half speculated about Wolloh, The High DiMensioner od DerTah, the man she had seen on the Throne of ReNin RepPosu when the future rolled out before her like a saga on a V-Screen.
The rising sun had not yet begun to erase the shadows from the desert landscape when two DerTahan hawks shot from the portal into the pale orange dome of the DerTah sky. One Man noted the dozing guard with a sense of relief. To his left, Allynae pressed hawk wings against the chill of dawn’s first light. Making the shift had gone against the grain for the twins’ father. One Man understood his desire for an uncomplicated life. Neither he nor Allynae would likely be experiencing it any time soon.
Following his instincts, he banked to northeast. Eissua Oasis was a good distance away. He considered landing and teleporting, but thought better of it. Almiralyn had told him the Mindeco could follow the energy trail left by teleportation. If it could, there might be others who could, as well. Forcing his mind into stillness, he pressed ahead glad for whatever remained of the tepid temperatures of early morning.
Allynae relished the feel of wings against air, of the wind skimming his feathered body, and of the beat of the hawk’s heart. Conscious of the need to keep his humanness ever present, he trained hawk eyes on One Man and his mind on the reason he had chosen never to practice the Art of DiMensionery. Too many initiates succumbed to the dark side of the art, using it for their own gain rather than for the needs of others. Allynae wanted no part of it or the temptation it presented. Not even the time he spent with Almiralyn and her strict adherence to the covenant of service and good works had made him change his mind. Need had caused him to forsake his self-imposed abstinence. The safety of his daughters meant far more to him than the simple life he had chosen.
He banked and soared after One Man. Some distance ahead, silhouetted palm fronds inched their way above the horizon. Each wing stroke brought them closer to Eissua Oasis and the Atrilaasu Oracle. Almiralyn revered WoNadahem Mardree. Allynae looked forward to meeting her.
One Man picked up speed. Allynae followed suit.
One Man’s hawk eyes searched the desert below. Something had activated the Seed of Carsilem, something dangerous and unseen. Caution made him swoop behind a towering, wind-blown dune and land in Human form. When Allynae materialized beside him, he sent a telepathic message. “Can you hear me? ”
Allynae’s eyes narrowed. “It’s been a long time .”
“Danger at the oasis. Fly in low. Not too close. Right? ”
“Got it .”
They shifted. Keeping a few feet above the dunes, they streaked toward a group of palm trees on the outskirts of the oasis. From the top of the tallest tree, they studied the terrain.
Grateful for the hawk’s excellent eyesight, One Man scanned the length and breadth of the huge basin—the lake, the outcropping, the waterfall. Echoes of activity, like fleeting memories, mingled with sunlight and shadow and the rhythmic sounds of water. Not one footstep of man or beast marred the rippled sand. As though someone had waved a magic wand, life at Eissua Oasis had ceased to exist, leaving behind empty tents, outbuildings, and animal pens.
Still worried but unable to pinpoint a threat, One Man swooped down and landed in Human form within a cluster of palms near the water. His narrowed eyes confirmed his hawk’s sight. The deserted oasis felt as eerie as a ghost town.
Allynae shifted beside him. “Telepathy or voice,” he whispered.
“Telepathy. I can’t shake the feeling that danger lurks behind every tree. Let’s separate and do some reconnoitering. I’ll meet you on top of the outcropping .”
Moving with the stealth of a cat, Allynae skirted the north side of the oasis. The heat sent sweat trickling down his neck and face. Pulling out a handkerchief, he scrubbed the dampness away and shoved the wet cloth back in his pocket. From the cover of a palm trunk, he surveyed the oasis. Where are all the Dansmen? And WoNa? She knows One Man and I are headed her way .
Sand sliding down the sloped side of the basin made him drop behind a scraggly bush. Above him on the pitch of the dune, a pock-like indent was filling with sand. His eyes darted to and fro, searching for whatever had made it. Every instinct screamed danger, yet he saw nothing. He sprinted to another tree and squatted in its limited shade.
A slight sound brought him half way to standing before the weight of a heavy man hit him and sent him sprawling on his belly. Sand in his nose and mouth threatened to smother him. The assailant straddled his back, grabbed a handful of hair, and yanked his head back. A knife gleamed by his cheek. A scarf-covered face appeared next to his. “One sound and you die.” The dark eye peering at him was hard as flint.
47
ConDra’s Fire
Myrrh
A t Antiques by Q in the Borderlands, Dom quickly tied his bootlaces, secured his paperweight in its special hiding place, and trundled down the hall to his office, where Wilith Whalend waited, head in hands. The man sure was closed-mouthed about his real purpose for seeking out the Guardian of Myrrh. “Ah, well.” Dom grabbed a lightweight jacket from the coat tree in the corner and shrugged it on. Slapping his favorite hat on his head, he scuttled down the hall to lock the front door. “Won’t keep ’em out, but might slow ’em down,” he muttered. The click of the ancient brass key in the lock reverberated in the empty hallway.
Majeska appeared in the shaft of light from the office entrance and meowed.
“Don’t just sit there yowling. Get our guest and let’s go.”
She flicked her tail. Torgin’s father appeared in the light behind her.
“You ready, Wilith? Jeska’s gettin’ impatient.”
The man scratched the smoky gray cat under the chin and straightened. “I’m ready.”
Following Majeska down the dusty corridor, Dom pondered the best way to the Dojanacks without raising an alarm at the RewFaaran camp. He’d received word that Lorsedi and Almiralyn were joining for
ces. He’d also heard about traitors amongst the soldiers on Myrrh. Best to avoid any problems and just slip on by.
He pulled open the door to the basement. Wilith’s heavy tread followed him down the rickety stairs. Majeska nosed a tapestry aside to reveal the mirror. Dom placed a hand on the cloudy glass. As soon as the keyhole appeared, the cat leapt through. Dom made no move to follow.
Wilith fidgeted beside him. “Are we going or not?”
“We wait for Jeska, unless you wanna get caught.”
The gray cat landed at Wilith’s feet and meowed. He shot Dom an inquiring look. “Can we go?”
“Yep. Follow Majeska.”
The cat obliged by leaping once more through the keyhole. Dom followed with Wilith at his heels. They arrived in a field of sunflowers at the edge of Almiralyn’s front garden. Moving as quietly as possible, they snuck through the rows of green stems and bobbing, yellow blossoms. The sound of footfalls a short distance ahead bought them to a halt.
Like a shadow, Majeska crouched and crept through the foliage on her belly. When she trotted back through the green growth, a Nyti rode on her back. A wide grin stretched his mouth almost bigger than his face. He zipped around Dom and Wilith and finally landed on a large leaf. “I’m Ashor,” he said. “It’s not safe to be running around out here. Those soldiers have weapons.”
Wilith’s expression of disbelief melted once again into impatience. “I have to find the Guardian of Myrrh. I can’t afford to wait.”
Dom patted his shoulder. “Easy, Wilith. We’ll getcha were you need to go.”
Ashor ignored Wilith and landed on Dom’s upturned hand. “Whatcha need?”
Dom explained. The Nyti listened attentively and looked Wilith up and down. “I’ll find Kieel. You’d better follow me. You’re pretty close to a lookout station.” He flitted through the sunflowers to the edge of woods and hovered by a small grove of ancient hemlocks. “Stay here. I’ll hurry.”
Wilith sank to the ground and rested his back against a tree. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” Strain and frustration made his face grim.
Dom eased his fanny down on a stump. “The Nyti are quick little creatures. Shouldn’t take him long.” He pulled off his hat, reshaped the crown, and jammed it back on his head. Peering at the man from under the droopy brim, he observed the strength in the face and the panic. You are in for a ride, Wilith Whalend, one you can’t even begin to imagine.
Voer had followed Kieel to a small clearing some distance from the camp. He shifted and breathed in the smells of pine and spruce, of dark damp earth, and of lichen and moss. The Terces Wood titillated his senses, reminding him of the forests of his home. He had found a fondness for Myrrh, but ReTaw au Qa would always come first in his heart.
Kieel landed on a branch at Voer’s eye level. “You will travel the Intersect?”
“It is the fastest way. How far is Nemttachenn from here?”
“As the raven flies…a short distance.”
Ashor zipped into the clearing and hovered near Kieel. “Dom is near Tropal Gateway with a man from Idronatti. The man needs to find Almiralyn.”
“Did Dom say why,” Kieel asked.
“Only that the man is looking for his son, and it’s important.”
Kieel landed on Voer’s upturned palm. “Do you want to go on ahead or find out what this is about?”
Voer’s remembrance of Dom was negatively colored by his loyalty shift from Almiralyn to Seyes Nomed, but then the Pentharian had also changed allegiance—Nomed to the Guardian. He let his bias go. It would be imprudent to ignore what might be important.
“Take us to them, Ashor,” he said. Once again a dragonfly, he followed the two Nyti.
When Dom and his companion were still a short distance ahead, Voer shifted to his natural form and observed the men from the cover of the trees. Dom twirled a sprig of hemlock between his fingers, his face hidden beneath a battered, old hat. A large, black man sat on the ground with his head buried in his hands.
Voer left his hiding place. The soft snap of a twig made the man tense and look up. Dark eyes widened. In one fluid movement, he came to standing, prepared to fight.
Dom rubbed his knee and pushed himself to his feet. “Relax, Wilith. This be Voer. He’s a friend. Voer this is Torgin’s pa. He needs to find Almiralyn.”
Voer kept his voice low and his stance relaxed. “I am Voer, the Pentharian, a friend of the Guardian and of your son. What brings you here from Idronatti?”
In a hesitant voice, the man provided a brief explanation. Behind the obvious agitation caused by the threat to the Five Fathers and the demand to bring Torgin back to Idronatti, Voer sensed a fear that was tearing the man apart. Yet, nothing in his demeanor suggested lies or a threat to Almiralyn.
“You must come with me, Wilith, father of Torgin. Your son is the heart brother of my comrade, Yaro. Because of this, I, too, honor him as brother. I will take you to Almiralyn.”
Wilith tried to make sense of Voer and the Nyti and Torgin as a heart brother to a Pentharian mercenary. He rubbed his throbbing temples. How can my son be a brother to such an alien creature? Forcing his confusion aside, he squared his shoulders. “I would be grateful for your help. How soon can we leave?”
Voer conferred with Dom and the Nyti about the RewFaaran camp and ended his conversation with a query. “Do you have any news for Almiralyn?”
“Tell her to take care. I’ll head back to my shoppe. Now that Elcaro’s Eye is workin’ again, I can keep her posted on The Borderlands.” He extended a hand. “I wish ya the best, Wilith. Hope you find your boy.”
Wilith marveled at being treated with respect by these people—creatures. He clasped Dom’s hand and shook it heartily. “Thank you, Dom. I hope we meet again.”
Kieel and Ashor hovered near the Pentharian. “We’re off to keep an eye on the camp. If you need us, let Paisley know. Good luck to you both.”
Wilith shook his head as they whizzed away through the trees. Voer smiled down at him. The gold of his Reptilian eyes glowed in the dim light. “You aren’t in Idronatti anymore, my friend. And you have only just begun your journey. I am a shape shifter. In order to make the best possible speed, I am going to shift to a panther, and you are going to ride on my back. Can you manage that?”
He opened his mouth, but words would not form. He clamped it shut and nodded. When the Pentharian disappeared and a huge panther appeared in his place, he was tempted to run back to the portal and return to the world he understood. The black head swung toward him; the gleaming eyes questioned. Feeling disoriented and more than a bit taken aback, he gathered his courage, mounted the broad back, and gripped the black fur. As panther muscles rippled into action beneath him, he shook his head. The sheltered environment provided by The Plan did not prepared me to face such unknown creatures and events. How am I ever going to manage?
Paisley sat across from CheeTrann in the Tower of Nemttachenn. His desire to play another game of chess with the Sentinel had come to fruition. He studied the board and mulled over his options. Finally, he moved his rook and captured a pawn in the process. CheeTrann rested his forearms on the table and considered his next move. Medium length gray hair falling over his face hid it from sight. Paisley relaxed back in his chair. He still found it hard to believe he had found a friend in the apparition on the other side of the chessboard.
A low laugh alerted him to CheeTrann’s arrival at a decision. The big man straightened. A hand hovered over the chess pieces. The opaque fingers gripped a knight. With a satisfied chortle, he moved it two to the right and one down, picked up Paisley’s bishop, and grinned. “Your move.”
Growling to himself, Paisley hunkered down to examine his damaged defense. Footsteps entering the tower broke his concentration. Voer peered down at him. Behind him, a man Paisley did not recognize stared in astonishment as CheeTrann faded into a blue haze.
“Howdy, Voer. Who’s your friend?”
The Pentharian drew the man forward. “This is
Wilith, the father of Torgin.”
Paisley hoisted his towering bulk to standing and offered a hand. “Paisley Tobinette. You have one great son.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man released his hand and seemed to size him up. “You know Torgin?”
“I’ve much respect for your son. He’s done some pretty tough growin’ up in the past weeks. You’ll be proud of the man he’s becomin’.”
“Wilith seeks a meeting with Almiralyn,” Voer explained. “We’ll go by way of the Intersect. I have much news for her, as well.” He provided a brief description of his time with Mondago and the young traitor.
As he finished, CheeTrann appeared from the haze. His voice boomed in the confined space of the tower. “It is good you have shared this with us. We will be vigilant. We will keep Evolsefil safe. Go quickly and share your news with the Guardian.”
Paisley smiled at the astonished expression on Wilith’s face. It reminded him of Torgin and his introduction to Myrrh and The Unfolding. He put a big hand on the man’s shoulder. “You, like your son, will learn much in Myrrh. May your journey be a good one.”
He accompanied them to the Intersect entrance and was sorely tempted to go along for the ride just to see Wilith’s face when he took his first journey through the vastness of Intersect space. But the chessboard called. He couldn’t let CheeTrann win by default.
Wilith Whalend stared, spellbound. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the expansive skyscape that stretched into the foreverness of the universe. Stars, like a multitude of miniature gemstones, winked and blinked below him. The full moon, a hovering goddess dressed in shimmering white satin, cast her gracious light around her in a haloed corona of pastel colors. The tangled roots of the Terces Wood, swirls of turquoise—all of it took his breath away.
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 39
