Placing a bundle of prison clothing on the bed, he unfolded a gray shirt and pulled it over his head. The pants were a perfect fit. Perfection, control—Idronatti. He slumped onto the cot and stared at the floor.
The Five Fathers ran Idronatti. Everyone lived by The Plan. No one made a move unless it was dictated by the Peoples Plan Protectors and their rigid schedules. The PPP ruled. Anyone who disobeyed ended up in one of the Five Towers’ incarceration centers.
The door sliding open brought him to his feet. A PPP guard motioned him into the hallway. “Exercise Period—twice a turning. No excuses.”
Davin joined double lines of men who marched in step to the end of the hall and down a wide staircase. A door grated open. They filed out into the morning sunlight. Separating himself from the group, he leaned against the gray wall, concentrated on being invisible, and watched the dynamic in Tower Five’s exercise yard. Within no time, he’d picked out the leaders—the tough guys who ran things. One approached an older man with gray whiskers and large rimless spectacles. The man backed away, magnified eyes startled and fearful. The tough guy followed, poked his chest, and threatened to break his spectacles. Pale and panting, the older man hit the wall. A whistle blew, the tough guy gave him one last poke, joined the reforming lines, and marched the circumference of the yard with his fellow prisoners—once, twice, three times. The older man eased himself into line at the end and shuffled back toward the tower.
Davin spent the rest of the turning alone. Lunch was delivered slipped through a slot in the door. At orientation he’d been told that if he behaved himself, he would be allowed to have evening meals in the cafeteria. He exhibited exemplary behavior to earn any opportunity to escape the confines of the cell.
That night from his place in line, his gaze darted around the well-guarded room. The tough guy from the exercise yard sat at a nearby table, where all the chairs had already filled with inmates obviously competing to incur his favor. The bespectacled, older man ate alone at the far end of the room. Davin carried his tray over, sat down, and nodded.
“Davin Farlow.”
The man gave him a nervous look. “Dom. Short for Dominee. You’d be better off sittin’ elsewhere.” He glanced over his spectacles at the crowded table. “I’m not exactly part of the in-group, you might notice.”
Davin took a sip of the nutri-drink served everywhere in Idronatti. “I like it here.”
Over the course of the next several moon cycles, he and Dom ate together most nights. Somehow, Dom had seen the schematics of Tower Five. Davin didn’t ask how. Every meal they ate together provided him with more information. By the time he’d been in the Tower for half a sun cycle, he was ready to make his move. Serving a life term—not on his list of possibles. He just needed the right series of events, and he’d be on his way. They came sooner than expected.
Five sun turnings later, prisoners were marched into a small auditorium. Guards lined up along the walls and covered all the exits. The short meeting’s agenda offered both time and opportunity to carry out his escape. Since the men had behaved badly in the exercise yard, they would lose the privilege for a full moon cycle and be put to work cleaning the Five Towers’ garbage disposal area—effective immediately.
Other than the fact that he hadn’t planned to bring Dom with him, everything had worked like a finely tuned Theran chronometer. When the guard conducting the meeting asked for volunteers prior to passing out mandatory assignments, Davin raised his hand and offered to clean the waste removal trucks. The group filed out of the auditorium and marched in precise cadence to the garbage area.
When it was time to return to their cells, the men lined up. After the head count, the lines began to move. Davin attracted the attention of a guard and pointed at his hatless head. The guard motioned him to find it. He stepped out of line and dodged around the truck, came back with his hat in hand, and waited patiently to step back into line at the end. As one of the tough guys passed by, Davin’s foot shot out. The man tripped and knocked into the bully in front of him. A fight ensued. Davin slapped his hat on and concentrated on blending into the truck’s gray sides. During the chaos, Dom stumbled to his knees and landed with a hand on Davin’s foot; he changed to the color of the flooring. Davin stared and glanced around. No one had noticed. He squatted beside him and whispered, “Keep your hand on me. Under the truck. Don’t move.”
It had almost been easy from there. The confusion turned to order, the roll was called, and their absence noted. The area was thoroughly searched. Several times the guards had walked right by them. Then Dom let go and flashed into full view. Davin grabbed his arm. The old man melted into the background, so scared he almost ceased breathing. Finally, the double outside doors opened. The trucks drove through in a caravan. Keeping to the side opposite the drivers, Davin led Dom into the street and dodged behind a parked PPP RiaTransport. Darkness shrouded the city. An alarm went out, but by that time they had made it to the apartment of Dom’s friend. A change of clothing and they were on their way, each going in his own direction: Dom to The Borderlands buffer zone between Idronatti and Myrrh and he on a roundabout course to the Onom Lira Station.
The faint whoosh of the train slowing to a stop made him crouch lower. Busy station noises filtered in through the open doors. Boxes near the front were removed and others rearranged. The doors slid shut. A muffled cry and the quiet purr of air against the train’s sleek sides announced the continuation of the journey. Davin relaxed. His mind wandered further back in time. He remembered little about his life before the beatings had begun.
The birth of a second child had changed the family dynamic in his home. His mother became ill. His father responded with anger, ignored his second son, and beat Davin. By the time he was five, the beatings had become a regular part of his existence. The only time he felt safe was when he snuck away with his younger brother Somay to Myrrh, a wonder-filled world hidden within another dimension in Idronatti. One visit, after a particularly bad beating, a fit of anger had resulted in the death of a kitten and ended with his banishment from Myrrh.
He traced the scar near the corner of his mouth. He had been eleven. In a fit of fury and frustration, he had kicked the portal mirror into Myrrh. With a shard from the spider-webbed break where the toe of his boot had connected with glass, he sliced his cheek. His life’s purpose had been defined—destroy Myrrh and Almiralyn, its Guardian.
Although Myrrh was off limits to everyone in the city, children up to the age of twelve knew how to find the secret portals that would take them there. At the age of thirteen, however, every Idronattian child underwent a memory modification to eradicate all memories of Myrrh. Unwilling to have his memories erased and his revenge snatched away along with them, he’d run away. A well-hidden cave in the Central Mountains had served as his home for seven long sun cycles. If he could survive there, he could survive anywhere. Survival…
The train whispered to a stop. Voices headed his direction sent him scrambling out the back exit under the cover of the cloudy night sky. Grateful for the brown uniform from Dom’s friend, he jumped to the ground and dodged away between darkened buildings. A husky shout and boots pounded after him. Sprinting to the edge of the yard, he dropped to his belly, shimmied under a wooden fence, rolled to his feet, and dashed for a stand of trees. Sheltered by forest darkness, he watched two PPP soldiers emerge and stop short of the fence. A cursory search netted them nothing. He slipped away, background noise from the train station obscuring his careful tread.
By sunrise the next morning, he emerged in Demrach Canyon and with a sense of relief headed deeper into the Central Mountains. Paralleling a steep trail, he forged his way through close-packed trees and underbrush toward the spot where Dom had told him he would find a portal, one that would take him off-planet. Thera was no longer safe. It was time to leave.
The sun had reached its high point by the time he arrived at the foot of a steep incline, the final leg of his journey. At the top, he discovered a narrow, rocky trac
k. Stopping to catch his breath, he scanned the forest below. A glint of light flashed, disappeared, and flashed again. He had company.
Ducking behind a large rock, he took stock of his surroundings. Silent haste carried him further along the trail. A bend dumped him in an obstacle course of strewn rocks and fallen trees. Zigzagging his way through the rubble, he plunged once more into trees and underbrush. A short hike brought him to a clearing dominated by a tall waterfall. Rainbow light filled his vision. The roar of plummeting water pounded in his ears. A subtle sound beneath the roar sent him clambering onto a large rock at the edge of the roiling pool. In its depths, the vague outline of swirling oval light solidified and rose to the surface. The shadowed figure of a man in the trees robbed him of choice. He jumped.
A sucking sound pulled him into complete darkness. His heart raced. Air rushed from his lungs. He drifted, a feather floating through endless time. Bright streaks of shooting color formed a vast tunnel around him. An explosion of white light launched him forward and dumped him near the top of a red dune beneath an orange sky. Unable to stop, he tumbled head over heels down the sandy side and slid to an undignified halt at the feet of a man in a long, full cloak. Startling, dark eyes beneath white, arched brows, held his gaze.
“Be very still, my friend.”
Davin frowned and started to rise. A high pitched screech pressed him down. “What on Thera was that?” He gaze darted over the dunes. “And where am I?”
The man pushed back his hood, uncovering a high, smooth brow and a thatch of white hair. He spoke in and undertone. “You’re on the planet of DerTah in the Desert of Fera Finnero. That cacophonous shriek was the cry of a Fire ConDra. They consider Human flesh a delicacy.” He pointed skyward.
A massive creature hovered above the dunes, blotting out the sun and casting a shadow over the desert below. Part bird, part reptile, and composed of fiery flames, it soared in a wide circle. Whipping a long, lava tongue through the air, it began a slow, ominous descent.
Davin peered at the man standing next to him. “What now?”
“Patience, my young friend. All in due course.” Turning with restrained slowness, he tracked the creature’s approach. Lifting a wooden staff high above his head, he whispered a series of strange words. Light poured from the gnarled top, enveloped the ConDra, and exploded into a rain of sparks that vanished before they reached the desert floor. Nothing remained but orange sky stretching for miles in all directions.
Davin swallowed a gasp of surprise and climbed to his feet. He jerked his gaze from the spot where the Fire ConDra had vanished to the man’s face. “Who are you?”
“I am known by many names. You may call me Velar.” The dark eyes studied him with candid interest. “You are Davin Farlow. I have been waiting for you for some time.” He settled his hood over his white hair and began to walk away, his stride long and easy, his cloak billowing in a sudden breeze.
How does he know my name? Why has he been waiting for me? The questions held Davin motionless.
Velar paused. “Well, come along. Night is on its way, and we have far to travel before dawn approaches.” A scrutinizing look brought an “ah” to his lips. He snapped his fingers. A cloak similar to his own materialized over his arm. He held it out. “This is a kcalo. It will protect you from the heat and the cold.”
Davin remained immobile. “Are you a Mocendi?”
“I am not Mocendi, Davin, but they are closer than you think. Put on the kcalo. I will answer your questions as we journey.”
The truth in the man’s words chimed like a church bell. Davin nodded, donned the kcalo, and fell in step beside him.
Without further urging, Velar began his tale with a question. “What do you know about DiMensionery?”
Davin shrugged. “It’s training in the mystical arts.”
“Ah, my friend, it is much more than that. It is the development of man’s natural abilities, those talents we carry that are innate to who we are as immortal beings.”
“Immortal? We all die. How can we be immortal?”
Velar smiled. “We are immortal in the sense that energy cannot be destroyed. In so much as that is truth, we return to the essence of our origin. But we digress. DiMensionery is training in those talents that we as Human’s possess but have not learned to access: telepathy, telekinesis, teleportation, transmutation. Also the mystical arts: the creation of fire or light, the ability to make things materialize as I did your kcalo, and the art of shape shifting.”
Davin raised his eyebrows. “How does one go about learning these things?”
“If you have the ability and the desire to become a DiMensioner, you must find a member of the Order of Esprow who is willing to train you. That or join the Mocendi League.”
An acid retort sprung to Davin’s lips.
Velar shot him a warning glance and held up a hand for silence. Shoving his kcalo’s hood back from his face, he rotated slowly, his penetrating gaze searching the low rolling dunes.
Davin peered at the vast desert landscape. Not far ahead, where the dunes transitioned to a shadowed flat terrain, strange, Human-like plants stood in silhouette against the soft blue light glowing along the eastern horizon. Nothing moved. He shifted his focus to the night sky. The first of DerTah’s three moons rode high overhead. Saffron gold and full, its light washed the red sand with a warmth not matched by the cool night air.
Velar touched his arm. “A Mocendi is close. We must hide.”
Davin felt a knot of fear twist his gut. He tossed a frantic look over Velar’s shoulder. “Hide? Where?”
“We lie flat on the ground here in the trough between dunes. Blank your mind. Do not think. Become the sand and the moonlight.” He pulled Davin down beside him, placed his staff between them, and made sure they were both covered by their kcalos. “I’ll cast an illusion of invisibility, but it will shatter if your fear gets out of control.”
A large bird swooped low. The wafting air from the thrust of its wings whispered overhead. Davin forced himself to remain motionless as its searching probe attempted to penetrate his thoughts.
Velar squeezed his arm. “Concentrate.” The word formed in his mind—solid and tangible. “Merge into sand and shadow.”
His mind ceased to chatter. His body ceased to feel. His heart ceased its rhythmic beating.
Beside him, Velar melted into nothing. The bird dropped lower and landed in Human form a short distance from where they lay. The image of a tall man filled Davin’s mind. Gray-green eyes beneath blond brows swept toward him. They paused, drilling into the desert floor where he lay—searching each patch of light and shadow. Like sand falling in slow motion through the narrowed neck of an hour glass, time elongated. Profound desert silence weighted by anxious anticipation engulfed him. The man shifted, wings carrying him into the light of the saffron moon. The weight lifted. Time resumed.
Velar’s dark eyes gleamed as he pushed himself to sitting. “Well done, Davin. Did you know you were capable of transmuting yourself?”
He sat up frowning. The scar tugged tight. “You mean blending in?”
“More than blending in, my friend. You became the sand. The Mocendi could find no sign of you.”
Davin laughed. “Transmuting. So that’s what I do.”
“Not only that, you heard my telepathic message. If you can hear my projected thought, you can also send one to me.”
Words formed on Davin’s tongue.
Velar shook his head. “Project your thought into my mind.”
Davin took a breath and exhaled. He closed his eyes, formulated a question, and thought. “Where do we go from here?”
“To meet the man who will become your mentor.”
“My mentor?”
Moonlight glowed in Velar’s eyes. “The man who will train you to be a DiMensioner. That is if you are interested in the Order of Esprow.”
Davin grinned. “Interested? I have never wanted anything more.”
Velar turned his head. The warm light drain
ed from his eyes. “Not even revenge?”
The question hung like a curtain between them. Davin swallowed. “I…” He studied his hands, tracked the lines on his palms through half-closed eyes.
“The need for revenge will only hold you back. It will interfere with your training and limit your ability to achieve your highest potential.” Velar’s tone held no disrespect.
Davin glared at the red sand. Desire rode him like a demon. Images of Almiralyn turned his stomach sour. Anger clouded his thinking. He walked away, fists clenched and jaw set hard. I will have my revenge but… He forced his need to a deep and hidden place. First things first. He returned to stand in front of Velar. “I want to learn DiMensionery more than I want revenge.” The conviction in his voice surprised him. He smiled.
Velar nodded. “Wolloh’s faith in you is well-founded.”
“Wolloh?”
“The man who will become your mentor. Some time ago, I gave him the task of observing you, of analyzing your potential. If he were not engaged in training and protecting another perspective DiMensioner, he would be here instead of me.”
“You had someone watch me? How dare you!”
“I dared, Davin, because the Mocendi League had begun a search for you. You are an intelligent and very gifted young man. I dared because I would rather help you than see you controlled by men who will use up your talent and throw you away like so much garbage. You have an important part to play in The Unfolding, and it isn’t as a lackey for the Mocendi.”
“The Unfolding?” Suspicion tainted the question.
Velar studied him for a moment before responding. “The Time of Awakening in the Inner Universe.”
“And I have a role to play?”
“You do. In time you will discover what it is—what The Unfolding offers you. Until then, let’s do our best to slip through the Mocendi’s net and get you to safety.”
An unsettled silence accompanied them as they continued their trek across flat, red sand.
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 61
