The UnFolding Collection Three

by S. K. Randolph

  Bibeed set the lantern on a keg. Relief had erased the fear from her face. She smiled. “Many sun cycles ago a sailing ship ran aground on the beach. The story goes that it was a Mocendi ship carryin’ a crew pressed into service and a cargo of kidnapped youngsters headed for training on the planet of TreBlaya. All those onboard escaped. To keep the authorities from discovering it and searching the village, the men hitched horses to the hull and drug it up the beach to here. It took some doin’. What you see is all that remains. They resealed the bulkheads so it’s pretty dry. With a little nugdin,’ a rockslide dumped stones in front of the opening. Over time the sea and weather did the rest. Ya can’t see it from the ocean, and the slide protects it from the wind and rain. You should sit, Miss. You look a bit…” She shrugged.

  Renn laughed. “I think bedraggled is a good description.” She sank onto a small crate. “Please call me Renn. Tell me why you brought me here.”

  The woman’s pleasant expression hardened. “The Dreela Omudi told me to hide you if he sent word. Seems the Mocendi League are mighty interested in you and your work.”

  “The Mocendi League?”

  “Them folk who take the Arts of DiMensionery and twist ’em to their own ends. They steal young ones with the gift and train ’em to do bad. Lately, they’ve gotten stronger. My brother heard they’s after our own High DiMensioner and a boy from Myrrh who’s got the gift. And they’re lookin’ for a magic compass.”

  Renn listened with disbelief. When Bibeed mentioned the compass, all doubt fled. Torgin has a compass that the RewFaarans and the Mocendi League want. And they both want me. She didn’t need to question why. Her heart thumped an agitated rhythm in her ears. They want control of my research. More than that, they want to control the Inner Universe . The enormity of it left her speechless.

  On the far side of Fera Finnero, two birds raced from the gateway into the mid-afternoon sky. Shots fired by Nissasa’s men careened above them as they dropped behind a dune. They soared though the wind-created troughs until they landed in Human form.

  Nomed looked at his elderly companion. “You alright?”

  Henrietta flashed him a smile. “I’m exceptional.” She smoothed her ruffled curls. “That wasn’t a very nice welcome. Now what?”

  “You brought Etunir?”

  She tapped her pants pocket. “Right here. It should get us through the wards unnoticed. Where’s the best place?”

  “I think we should avoid Nissasa’s troops all together and go in from the Trinuge side.” He gave her a solicitous look. “It’s a longer flight. You up to it?”

  A tiny smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “I’m betting I’ll be less tired than you.” She shaped the DerTahan dune hawk and shot into the air.

  The great horned owl soared after her, its hazel eyes alive with the delight of flight and the glow of the setting sun.

  By the time they approached the border between the desert and Shu Chenaro, night had settled over the land. The golden light from the moon Fasfro picked out pitched tents and picketed animals on the sand below. Nomed skirted the camp and winged his way toward the Plains of DoOlb. Beside him, the silver gray dune hawk matched his speed and rhythm.

  The cracked and barren plains of DoOlb’s outer reaches tempted him to land. Too close to Nissasa’s camp. Too close to the power of the Oracle Stone. Soon we’ll cross into the province of Trinuge . His thoughts strayed to the Dreelas TheLise. I hope she’s surviving Roween Rattori’s visit.

  Fasfro’s warm glow highlighting the tops of trees welcomed them to the Dreelas’ homeland and lit the way to Shu Chenaro’s warded boundary. Swooping lower, he navigated between trees and landed in Human form.

  Henrietta materialized beside him, looking fresh and exhilarated. “It’s been awhile since I’ve flown any distance. How I do love flight.”

  He smiled. “One of the greatest benefits of shape shifting a bird. Come. We can’t linger too long.” Picking his way through the overgrowth, he approached the wards and paused. His attention concentrated. He sought anything out of the ordinary—anything that could do them mischief. At last, he held out a hand. “The crystal.”

  Henrietta placed it on his palm. “You know the workings of Wolloh’s mind far better than I do, but do be careful.”

  Nomed knelt and touched the tip of the crystal’s termination to the base of the wards. Tiny sparkles of light sprinkled the waist-high rent. He motioned her ahead, ducked through after her, and used the crystal to reweave the wards. When he finished, he assessed them. Someone besides Wolloh created these. The work is good.

  Henrietta, already in shifted form, perched on a branch above his head, her hawk eyes observing the forest ready to warn him of danger.

  He pocketed the crystal, shifted to the great horned owl, and led her through the forest canopy and into the open sky. Fasfro’s saffron orb hovered above them, her warm light mingling with the cool blue of her sister moon as it crested the eastern horizon. Distant stars glistened in the domed heavens.

  An unexpected wave of sadness washed over him, dimming the joy of flight and the beauty of the night. Overwhelming loss choking the breath from his lungs almost knocked him from the sky. Banking toward the blue moon, he streaked with the dune hawk toward Shu Chenaro. The ache in his heart told him they were already too late.

  Nissasa Rattori threw back his head and laughed a laugh so full of delight that his man servant glanced at him in surprise.

  “Don’t stare, you fool. Go. Find DesTel Terah and bring him to me.”

  The servant shuffled from the tent. Nissasa removed a leather thong attached to a black pouch from around his neck and clutched it to his heart. “We did it,” he whispered. “We sent the High DiMensioner to roast in SeDah.”

  Tipping the Oracle Stone, which he had renamed Souvitrico, onto his palm, he stared at the fire burning in its depths. Another full-bodied laugh burst from his throat. He held the crystal up to the light. “Ah, WoNa, I imagine you miss your pretty stone.” His expression changed to calculating. “But it’s mine now. And I have used it to put an end to Wolloh Espyro. Soon your heart will break; soon I will find you, too; and soon you will join your true love in the pits of SeDah.” He made a triumphant circuit of the tent. “How do I know that, you ask? I, my dearest WoNa, know because your stone told me your secret.”

  A noise at the entryway made him whip around, the crystal hidden in the folds of his kcalo. He glared at his servant. “How long have you been there?”

  “Only a moment, Sajud.”

  Nissasa raked a probe through the man’s mind and smirked with satisfaction as anguished tears streamed down his face. “It appears I have a guest whom you do not recognize. Send him to me.”

  The man backed from the tent and scurried away. Nissasa replaced the crystal in its drango-lined pouch, glad for the protection it provided. No one could discern Souvitrico’s presence when it was surrounded by hide from the Drango Iguana. He slipped it beneath his shirt and pivoted to greet his guest. A cold lump settled in the pit of his stomach.

  “Hello, Nissasa. It is good to see you.” The man facing him wore the purple-lined cape of a Mocendi DiMensioner. He flipped it behind his shoulders and stepped into the tent.

  Keeping his expression neutral and his nervousness hidden, Nissasa executed a formal bow. “Vygel Vintrusie. Welcome to DerTah.” He straightened and scrutinized his guest. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

  “It seems you have obtained something The MasTer covets. I am here to retrieve it.”

  Nissasa forced his hands to remain at his sides and carefully shielded any thoughts referencing Souvitrico. “I am not sure what you have heard but…” He opened a wooden box on his bedside table and held out a small crystal. “I did remove this from around WoNadahem Mardree’s neck.”

  Vygel held it up to the light. “This is not the Oracle Stone.”

  “The Atrilaasu Oracle was rescued before I could claim her much coveted crystal.” He kept his tone light. “Perhaps
another chance will offer itself.”

  The Mocendi glanced around the tent. “And the Raven Karrew? Where is it?”

  Nissasa kept his tone bland. “It was stolen from my tent while I was busy at the front. So far we have not found it, but I will. May I offer you refreshments?”

  Vintrusie chose a chair facing the door and lowered his gaunt body onto it. “I suggest you find the Oracle Stone and Karrew sooner than later, my friend. Something to drink would be appreciated.”

  Nissasa pressed his lips together and walked with an unhurried step to the entryway. His servant waited at a respectful distance. Beside him stood DesTel Terah. The heavy lidded eyes so like his fathers’ acknowledged him and then drifted to the tent entrance. Nissasa waved them both forward, sent his man to bring refreshments, and led DesTel into the tent.

  The Mocendi looked up with vague interest.

  After securing a third chair, Nissasa made introductions. “Vygel Vintrusie…DesTel Terah. DesTel, this is the representative of The Mocendi MasTer from the planet of TreBlaya.”

  The Mocendi’s expression changed to curiosity. “You must be Dahe Terah’s son. I had rather hoped to meet your father.”

  DesTel gave a deferential bow and took his seat. “He is away on tribal business. What brings a Mocendi to Fera Finnero?”

  Holding up the small crystal, Vintrusie responded, “I came for the Oracle Stone, but it seems that my information about its whereabouts was incorrect.”

  Nissasa kept his eyes on the Mocendi, glad he had erased all memories of Souvitrico from the minds of anyone who might have seen him use it on Wolloh’s wards. Refreshments arrived and conversation took a more benign route. The Mocendi finished his taccus fruit and wine, pressed a napkin to thin, colorless lips, and placed it carefully on the table that the servant had set for them. A vulturine smile transformed his face into that of a predacious animal. He brought hard eyes to rest on DesTel. “Tell me about your brother.”

  Aware that he was being watched, Nissasa remained outwardly relaxed. The man’s look and tone had put him on alert. He let his gaze move to DesTel, who smiled lazily.

  “I have four, all of whom are either here or at our camp.”

  The Mocendi appeared ready to pounce. “I mean NeTols. I would very much like to meet him.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. He accompanied my father.”

  Vintrusie twisted a ring on his middle finger and looked at DesTel from under furrowed brows. “I understand he is not Sebborr by birth, and yet he is your father’s favorite. It must be difficult for you.”

  DesTel’s jaw tightened and his eyes held a glint of emotion that was gone as suddenly as it appeared. “He is the youngest—the baby of the family. My parents have always doted on him.”

  The Mocendi stood and shook out the folds of his cape. “I believe I have taken enough of your time. After all, you do have a war to fight.” He paced to the tent entrance.

  Nissasa had risen with him. DesTel rose as the hollow-cheeked Mocendi pivoted in a swirling pool of black and purple fabric. “Please tell your father I am sorry to have missed him, DesTel.” The cape settled around him. He stepped aside and motioned for the younger man to leave. The Sebborr swept from the tent, a scowl on his face and a touch of anger in his long stride.

  Vintrusie watched him round the corner between two tents before returning his attention to Nissasa. “You realize if The MasTer discovers you are being untruthful—”

  “I will send word if the Oracle Stone comes into my possession.” He nodded in the direction DesTel had taken. “Why are you interested in his brother?”

  A wicked smile lit the Mocendi’s face. “I am interested in all things, Nissasa Rattori. Take care.”

  A caustic response sprung to Nissasa’s lips, but the man was gone. Marching back to the table, he picked up his wine glass and gulped what remained. A quick mental search told him the Mocendi had left Fero Finnero.

  Reaching inside his shirt, he pulled out the black pouch. “I have things to discover, things to accomplish.” The crystal cast an orange glow over the surface of his palm. That da’am Mocendi is so sure of himself—so full of his own importance. His expression hardened. Wards surrounded him. Peering into the crystal, he prepared to create havoc.

  9

  Master’s Reach

  Myrrh & Thera & Borderlands

  F rom the pocket of Major Jordett’s shirt, Kieel listened to the slap of boot soles on the shiny corridor floor. Afraid to move lest he give himself away, he clutched his walking stick and remained as still as the first light of dawn. A sudden change in direction toppled him from his rigid position. A door shutting sounded like thunder. Kieel stuck his head over the lip of the shirt pocket and tried to get his bearings.

  Stairs circled up and down from the spot where the Major stood. I don’t think I understand buildings.

  “Stay down. Surveillance lenses.” Jordett’s urgent whisper sent him back into hiding.

  By tipping his head, Kieel could watch their progress down one flight of stairs after the other. The Major was so quiet not even his footsteps could be heard. Stealth wrapped his every movement in tense silence.

  Their pace slowed. Jordett pressed back in the shadows. Kieel could see his jaw tighten. A door opened. Footfalls moved away from them. When nothing else suggested danger, the Major tapped the pocket. Kieel gripped a handful of fabric and hoisted himself up so he could see.

  The Major stood to one side of a long, narrow window next to a door marked with a series of symbols. He held out his hand. Kieel zipped upward, landed on the palm, and folded his wings. Keeping his growing misgivings about this adventure to himself, he peered through the window. “What now?”

  “We need to know the layout of the Ria-T Plaza.”

  “Ria-T? Is that what the symbols says?”

  Jordett nodded. “This is all very strange for you, isn’t it?”

  “I have never ventured beyond the Terces Wood.” His wings fluttered open. “I can do some reconnaissance.”

  Jordett studied him with a doubtful expression. “Don’t get caught.”

  “I won’t. What am I looking for?”

  “Find out if there’s an exit that is not guarded and the best route to reach it. If they all have patrollers posted, then I need to know which exit has the least. Be quick.” He cracked open the door. Kieel shot out and up to the ceiling. Although the sparse lighting afforded him a feeling of relative safety, he chose to stay near the wall, well above eye level. The vast, open space was intimidating. He missed the Terces Wood and its many places to hide.

  The parking area turned out to be an underground structure with four levels. At each change in direction, Kieel carefully noted his route and memorized the details that he thought might help the Major. When he had seen everything there was to see, he retraced his path with the persnickety exactness for which he was known by his people. Across from Jordett’s hiding place, he paused in an unlit corner. Nothing in the parking area moved. He made a careful approach to the door, peeked in the top of the window, and tapped it lightly with his walking stick.

  The door creaked opened. He darted through and landed on the Major’s upturned palm. With meticulous attention to detail, he presented his report. At its conclusion, Jordett gave a low whistle.

  “You’re good, Kieel. Sure wish my men were as attentive as you are. Correct me if I missed anything. There are four levels and six exits. The sub-level exit leads to a tunnel that ends at a loading dock and alley. It’s not guarded. Level B has a street exit with only one guard.” He furrowed his brow in thought. “I’m inclined to do the alley exit, but something doesn’t feel right.”

  Kieel lifted off his palm and hovered. “I agree. Level B feels like a better option. I can guide you through the parking area.”

  Jordett held open his pocket. “Hop in. We’ll see if there’s a Drop Car close.”

  “A what?” Kieel slipped into his hiding place.

  “It’s a—” The ring of boots against the
floor cut off his answer. Jordett crouched beneath the stairs.

  Kieel withdrew into the pocket and muttered under his breath. “I hate not knowing what’s up.”

  Above them, the sound of a heavy man descending the stairs changed tenor as he stepped onto the landing and marched to the door of the parking area. Kieel peeked from the pocket. The man’s uniformed bulk filled the open door. Strain tightened the muscles of his thick neck. Another uniformed figure sprinted across the parking area. The man stepped out to meet him, leaving the door ajar. A brief conversation changed to an argument.

  “I’m telling you, he was spotted in the reception area.”

  “Then where is he? We’ve search every floor in the center.”

  The first man held up a fleshy hand, touched his ear, and listened. Man two clamped his mouth shut and waited.

  Jordett slipped from beneath the stairs and moved to the door.

  Kieel could feel tension ripple through the muscles beneath the uniform shirt. He gripped his walking stick tighter. Whatever made me leave the relative safety of Myrrh?

  At the shoppe Antiques by Q, Dom felt uneasy. Something nagged, something that did not bode well for him or for Myrrh. It had been hangin’ around—a premonition of sorts—for the past two turnings—since he had returned from taking Wilith Whalend to Myrrh.

  He had already searched the shoppe several times. He had checked the mirror, the dusty showrooms, the latches on both the front and back doors.

  Where’s Majeska anyway? He rearranged his desk, took out his crystal paperweight, and positioned it in front to him. Maybe Almiralyn can tell me what’s up. He reached out to touch it, withdrew his hand, and looked over the top of his spectacles. There’s that nagging again.