Desirol’s grim expression matched his tone. “Where did that horrid man send us?”
Torgin gave Desirol a hard stare. “Wolloh isn’t a horrid man. He sent us away to keep us safe. And he sent us where we can get the help we need to save my mother.”
“Well, Nissasa can track us because of Ira’s knife and Torgin’s compass.”
Esán interrupted. “Wolloh shielded both of them before we left the ranch, so your brother can’t use them to find us.” His eyes caught Brie’s and then darted around the terrain. “We have a problem.”
Torgin clutched the compass. “This isn’t where we were supposed to teleport, is it?”
Esán gazed at his friends, one by one. “This looks nothing like the picture Wolloh put in my head. We were supposed to end up in a seaside village called Atkis, not in a rain forest.”
Brie touched Torgin’s arm. “I think we’d better have a peek at your compass.”
He withdrew it from beneath his tunic and held it out. “Where are we?” The needle spun. A map appeared on the face, levitated above it, and enlarged to readable proportions.
“It’s never done that before.” Ira angled to see it better.
“Look.” Brie pointed at a glowing green spot. “We’re in the Tinga Forest in Trinuge.”
“Great. So now what?” Desirol folded his arms across his chest and glowered.
The picture faded.
Nomed’s eyebrow arched. “The Tinga Forest is one of the most dangerous places on DerTah. With Wolloh weakened and the Mindeco on the loose, the children are in peril. I think—”
A maniacal laugh erupted from the depth of the fountain. Bloodied water splashed over the rim of the bowl. A picture danced erratically and settled. Almiralyn’s heart jumped into her throat. Her hands gripped the rim.
Cage bars, encased within shimmering wards, jumped into focus. A raven’s tortured eye fastened on hers. Scorched feathers covered a wing that hung at an odd angle. A jagged gash at the base of its throat soaked a single white feather with oozing drops of blood.
Almiralyn sucked in a shocked breath. Tears flooded her eyes. “Karrew. What have they done to you?”
Another crazed laugh filled the room and bounced off the walls. Its echo surrounded them—a taunt that went on and on and on.
The image faded from the fountain’s surface, leaving the water in Elcaro’s Eye tinted crimson. Beyond the emptied panes of Veersuni’s window, DerTah spun into view and blinked out of sight.
Water slipping from the carved woman’s palms overflowed Elcaro’s rim, staining the white alabaster red.
The children of many continue their course
To defy and destroy a sinister force;
The Unfolding pulls them along in its wake
Toward worlds to protect and the wicked to break.
And the Unfolding continued.
end of
ConDra’s Fire
UnFolding 7
Metamorphosis
UnFolding 8
Companion Short
(novelette)
Fantasy Fiction
The UnFolding
by
S.K. Randolph
Copyright © 2015-2018 by S.K. Randolph
CheeTrann Creations LLC
08UF-V-29+i
Metamorphosis
L aurent adjusted the folds of his cravat with a sense of immediacy despite his staring abstractedly into the mirror. His tanned face with its high cheekbones accentuated eyes the deep sea green of the Roahymnian Ocean. Even the full-lipped mouth pulled down in a scowl did not distract from the handsomeness reflected by the mirror’s surface. Giving the cravat a final tug, he ran a comb through wavy, black-brown hair, fingered a stray curl into place, and pivoted to face the man who awaited him in the doorway.
He kicked a heap of drab brown clothing to one side and shook out the wrist ruffles of his pristine white shirt below the cuffs of his dark green jacket. “How do I look?”
“Better than you looked in those.” His father’s secretary indicated the brown pile. “I’d be more worried about what’s about to happen than about my looks if I were you.”
Laurent slipped a gold ring on his finger and gave the man a half smile. “Let’s get this over with.”
Stepping aside the man gave a slight bow. “I wish you luck.”
Two uniformed guards fell in behind him as he walked down the corridor to the closed double doors of the Lanburti Chamber. The guards took up a stance on either side of it. Within moments, one door opened and a gray head appeared. The wrinkled face was somber. Gnarled hands clutched a walking stick. Dignity wreathed the Lanburti Steward as he said, “It is time.”
The guards pulled the doors open, the steward took his place at the center of the aisle, and all within the chamber stood and turned.
Laurent squared his shoulders. Chin held high and eyes pinned on the far end of the room, he made the longest walk of his nineteen sun rotations. Uncertainty slapped at his carefully preserved calm as he reached his assigned seat facing the Arbiter’s bench and stood before it. His father stepped up beside him, his expression unreadable.
The swish of fabric, a smothered cough, the shuffle of feet sounded overly loud behind him. A door at the front of the chamber opened. Lapis blue robes trimmed in gold draped the stooped shoulders of the Arbiter. Piercing brown eyes traveled the room and came to rest on the Board of Adjudicators, the only seated persons in the room.
With ceremonious dignity, the Arbiter walked to the bench and lifted a hand. The Adjudicators, like a well-rehearsed corps de ballet, rose to their feet. Silence gripped the hall. A man moved with a soloist’s importance from the Adjudicators’ box to hand a scroll to the waiting Arbiter.
The hush in the chamber deepened. Anticipation rippled up Laurent’s spine as steady fingers unrolled the parchment scroll. Tension tightened the muscles in his throat. The lidded eyes of the Arbiter scanned the scroll’s contents. Laurent forced himself to remain calm.
With focused attention, the Arbiter rolled the scroll back into a perfect cylinder and laid it on the bench. Inscrutability erased any reaction from his chiseled features. “Laurent Davead Zuill DeLongeer, please step forward to learn your destiny.”
A swallowed lump slid down Laurent’s throat. He lifted his gaze to the Arbiter’s grave face.
“It is rare for anyone on Roahymn to be brought before The Tribunal. It is even rarer for a verdict of this magnitude to be brought forth.”
Laurent felt his knees go weak. His father’s hand on his elbow held him steady.
The Arbiter’s deep bass tones continued. “Laurent Davead Zuill DeLongeer, you are found guilty of the crime for which you have been arraigned. You are, therefore, sentenced to ten sun rotations on the penal colony on the planet of Soputto’s third moon. As is indicated by the seriousness of your crime, you are banned from Roahymn for the entirety of your natural life. You are stripped of your name and right to inherit. Until you leave for Deport Isle, you will be confined in the Ituny guardhouse. No one but your father may visit, and only he may speak with you. Henceforth, you cease to be Roahymnian. All rights of citizenship are revoked. Planetary citizens are hereby instructed to banish you from memory.”
A muffled sob made his heart throb with regret. Gentle hands removed his father’s hand from his elbow. The steward led his parents from the hall. Two guards escorted him through a side door to a small room where his litigator waited. The next several sun returns were a blur. Processing the gravity of his sentence took time. It had been unexpected. Arrogance and anger gave way to chagrin and dismay. When he finally became conscious of the world around him, he could not remember what his litigator had said or what was to happen next. All he could remember was the deep voice of the Arbiter and his mother’s muffled sobs.
A key rattling in the lock of his cell brought him to his feet. The heavy door creaked open and his father entered. Laurent studied the familiar face. He looks older, more care-ridden, and worn.
Responsibility and sadness weighted his father’s walk as he crossed the cell and put a backpack and satchel on the metal cot. “Your mother packed as much as she could in your allotted luggage.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I have very little time.” He pulled a bag from under his cloak. “Take off your shoes and put these on.”
Laurent started to speak. His father shook his head. “Just do as I say.”
Taking the bag, he pulled out a pair of sturdy boots with thick leather soles. He kicked off his dress shoes and put them on, his fingers feeling suddenly clumsy as he tied the laces.
His father nodded. In a louder voice he said, “Your MaMa sent them. She thought they would last longer than your shoes.” He leaned forward and whispered. “Galaxy coin in the soles. Keep them close.”
A guard spoke through the barred window. “Almost time.”
His father held him at arms’ length. “Do your time and then live a good life. Don’t do anything foolish on the way to the colony.”
Before Laurent could respond, he was gone, the echo of his footsteps fading in the cold, stone passage.
Several long, boring sun returns had passed before he was taken to a room where he was instructed to bathe and change from the drab brown prison uniform to his own elegant clothing. He glanced in a mirror on the drab wall and smiled. I am rather good looking, aren’t I? The memory of his mother’s voice giving him a gentle rebuff for his vanity wiped the smile from his face. He glanced down at the gold ring on his left hand. She had given it to him for his nineteenth sun rotation celebration. At least I still have your gift, MaMa. I will never forget you and that you loved me regardless of my faults.
Two soldiers arrived and escorted him to The Nospri, a three-masted sailing vessel bound for Deport Isle. All eyes turned away as they passed. The long trek, even more humiliating than the walk through the Lanburti Chamber, fed his growing anger. He boarded the ship as quickly as his escorts allowed and headed straight for his tiny quarters. Only a need for fresh air and space to breathe forced him back on deck. Smoothing his hair away from face, he scanned the dock. My family didn’t even come to see me off. He forced the desire to gaze at his mother’s face one last time into a dark corner of his aching heart and paced the perimeter of the deck. A walk might discharge some of this da’am agitation.
Anger still colored his feelings about the trial…and his sentence. How could he and his three best friends have been so stupid? That’s what drinking will do. Too much mulled wine and too few scruples had made Jaff suggest a prank that turned into a lawbreaker. At nineteen sun rotations, they were at the age of decision and tried as adults. Torant and Talar had been sentenced to three rotations of community labor, almost as bad as incarceration. Jaff had gotten off with only one. Jaff… He narrowed his eyes and fisted his hands. I still don’t know how you managed to slip the noose around my neck. I’m destined to spend ten rotations in a penal colony, and I’m banned for life, and you’ll be done with your service in less than a full rotation. I will find you someday…
He stopped his agitated walk, leaned on the railing, and stared out to sea. How could my father not do more to help me? How could he not trust my word? I am…was…his oldest son. The galaxy coin hidden in the soles of his boots made him reconsider. He must have believed me, or he would not have given me money. Still, there must have been something he could do. He’s the Ymora of Ituny, the planet’s largest city.
Thoughts of his family made him long for time to go backward six moon circuits. He looked up at the sky and contemplated the faint outline of Roahymn’s moon. I wonder if my sister will remember me? She’s only six rotations. Geogeen and Rymont…? At sixteen and thirteen, they’ll remember me…and my stupidity. MaMa? He would never forget the look of agony on her face when the verdict was presented.
A glance over his shoulder told him he would find no sympathy on this vessel. No one looked his way. No one met his gaze as he turned around. In fact, passenger and crew alike gave him their backs as he passed on his trek around the deck. Anger, like a lead weight, settled around him. Arrogance shot up his spine. I am the first-born son… He swallowed and sagged. I am nothing…no one…a criminal on my way off planet. He turned back to the sea, his eyes slits, his lips pressed thin. I am the husk of a man, a mere shell, empty and alone…a man with no name. His chin went up. Henceforth, I shall be known as Wolloh…Wolloh, the Wanderer.
The trip to Deport Isle had been mostly uneventful. One rather flippant young man had tried to get him to fight. Self-discipline and the knowledge that one wrong move would mean a trip overboard had kept him from teaching the boy a lesson. He spent the next four sun returns trapped in his quarters, trying to imagine what it would be like on Soputto, the smallest planet at the furthest edge of the Inner Universe…or at least on one of its moons.
After The Nospri reached port, Wolloh sat on his cot, his face buried in his hands. I suppose I should be grateful for the fact that Roahymn has taken responsibility for my well-being until I reach Soputto. Then I’m on my own—for the first time in my life.
A knock on the door brought him to his feet. He shouldered his pack. “Come in.”
Averting his eyes, a young sailor pushed the door to. “Your escort is here. This way.” Without a backward glance, he pivoted and marched down the companionway.
Wolloh settled his pack more securely, grabbed his satchel, and hurried after the sailor.
The captain met them at the gangway and handed him a packet. “These are your deportation papers and ten verlis, all the coin you had in your pockets when you were arrested.”
“Thank…”
He turned his back.
Wolloh pushed an acid comment back down his throat and stepped onto the ramp. At the bottom, two silent stepris whose veiled heads were bowed awaited him. Neither spoke. Long robes swished as they led him through a crowd that, to a person, averted their eyes. Wolloh squared his shoulders and held his head high. I am not a tanicas villain.
The walk to the Portal Center was brief. Once there, his escort slipped quietly away, leaving him in an airy room with a view of the Thiaf Mountains. A wave of regret washed over him as he stared for the last time at the tree-covered range. There will be other mountains and other seas.
The door opening turned him to face it. An elderly stepri observed him from behind ground crystal lenses. “I apologize for interrupting your reverie. I am Stepri Donal. It is time to send you on your way.”
“I am banished, yet you look at me and speak.”
Wrinkles at the corners of the man’s pale mouth curved and deepened as he smiled. “I do not judge what I do not know. I understand you have found your new name?”
“Wolloh, sir.”
“Then, please follow me, Wolloh.”
The walk to the portal seemed both too long and too short. Their arrival stimulated a flash of denial, a sinking of heart, and a surge of anger that threatened to unleash his painstakingly maintained control.
Stepri Donal laid a hand on his arm. “You understand that once you enter the portal, you may never return to Roahymn. An attempt to use it again will end in your death. If for some reason the ban is lifted, you will be sent word that it is safe to return.”
Wolloh shied away from his touch. “Let’s do this thing.” He walked to the center of the chamber and stared into the spinning vortex.
Behind him the elderly stepri whispered a prayer and said, “Have you any last words before you depart?”
Wolloh faced him. “I did not do it. I know that must be what everyone says, but in this case it is true.”
The stepri touched his heart. “I hear only honesty in your words. I wish I had the power to effect a change in verdict. I do not, but I will seek the truth.”
Wolloh bowed his head. “Thank you.” He turned to the portal.
“May Ecorus protect you and guide your journey.”
The sacred words followed him into the vortex and ushered him onto the planet of ReTaw au Qa.
A sturdy
green Pentharian received him with a nod. “I’m Paac. You go to RewFaar?”
Wolloh regarded the Pentharian with interest. He had read about them but never had the opportunity to meet one. Mercenaries of the highest level, these half Human, half Reptilian creatures could shift shapes at will. “My passage has been booked on a jump shuttle from RewFaar.”
Paac checked his papers, and then guided him along a network of elevated wooden walkways over a vast swamp. After several turns, they stepped onto a hummock covered with trees that sent their vine-like roots cascading into the water below. A well-kept path led to a swirling gateway.
The Pentharian stopped. “You know the Key for RewFaar?”
Wolloh nodded.
“Have a good jump.”
Two RewFaaran soldiers met him at the destination point on the planet of war and escorted him to an aircar. At the Jump Port he was taken to a small office and left behind its locked door. After a seemingly endless wait, the same two soldiers marched him to the jump craft and handed him over to a rugged-looking man in a gray uniform.
The man looked at his papers, wiped his nose on the back of a hand, and rubbed it clean on his pants. “So, ya been banned from this Roahymn. Must a done somthin’ pretty bad. The penal colony on Soputto’s moon is pretty lax. Ya aren’t even confined to a cell.” He chortled. “Better that than locked up, don’t ya think?”
Wolloh shrugged.
“Says here you been stripped of your birth name. What do we call ya?”
“Call me Wolloh.”
“Just Wolloh? Nothing else?”
“Wolloh is enough.”
He gave him a quirky smile. “Name’s Banzel. Folks call me Bany.” His craggy features sharpened in the dim light. “This way, Wolloh.” He led him to a cubicle almost as small as his quarters on The Nospri with a berth built into the wall and a storage locker recessed underneath. He remained standing in the passage and held up a thumb. “Your thumb print’ll unlock the locker. Suggest ya keep anythin’ ya don’t want to walk away stowed there. You got questions?”
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 50
