The UnFolding Collection Three

by S. K. Randolph

  Hobbling into the hall, he stared one direction and then the other. Nothing . He cocked his head to listen. He sniffed the air. Still nothing . Back at his desk, he studied the paperweight. After a moment’s hesitation, he adjusted his spectacles and gazed into its crystal depths. Clouds gathered. Lightning flashed. A crash of thunder shook the paperweight. Angry blue eyes locked onto his. No matter how hard he tried, he could not look away. His heart stuttered in his chest. Life’s breath hissed from his lungs.

  A flash of gray cut across his field of vision. The paperweight crashed to the floor. Light exploded around it. A heart wrenching meow slammed his eardrums. Blinded and bemused, he stumbled backward. When he regained his balance and his vision cleared, Majeska lay in a gray heap on the desktop.

  He gathered her up with shaking hands and sank onto a chair. “Jeska?” Holding her next to his heart, he moaned, “Oh, Majeska, I am so sorry. You saved me. I—” Sobs of despair shook his shoulders. Tears plunged down his cheeks, drenching her silent, gray face. He pressed his ear to her chest, pulled away, and studied her through his thick lenses.

  Amethyst eyes blinked in the light of his lamp. A pink tongue lapped up a tear. Dom started to grin. Majeska wiggled upright, flipped her tail back and forth, and jumped to the floor. Sitting on her hunches, she gave him a round-eyed ‘whatever is wrong with you’ look.

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Thank Emit!” He ran a hand down her silky back. “Good thing cats have a surplus of lives, my friend.” He glanced at the shattered paperweight, where it rested against a pile of books at the foot of his desk. “And a darn good thing you came when you did.”

  Paisley stretched and pushed his chair back from the chess table in Nemttachenn Tower. “Need a break. Ya ever walk in the woods?”

  CheeTrann’s pellucid form wafted and reformed. His features came into sharper focus. “The tower is my domain. I cannot travel beyond its physical boundaries, my friend. But you should go and enjoy a breath of fresh air. It has been a long time since I have shared this much time with another. I am happy to rest in the quiet of my tower.”

  “I won’t be gone long.” Paisley walked to the entry and stared into the Terces Wood. The Evolsefil Crystal emitted a low hum. The ground began to tremble. CheeTrann arrived by his side and motioned him away from the door. Attention fixed on the Heart of Myrrh, the Sentinel raised a hand. The spell of invisibility melted away. Within Evolsefil, a man stood with his back to the tower’s center. His dark hair glowed in the crystal’s luminescent light. A slow rotation revealed a bearded profile; one frigid blue eye; a hawk-like nose; thin compressed lips; and finally a second cold, blue orb. The mouth formed a frustrated scowl. The glacial gaze swept the tower.

  Paisley remained still. The crystal’s low hum grew softer. CheeTrann whispered a non-stop series of sounds.

  Inside the crystal, the fierce expression on the man’s face became a disappointed frown. He made another full rotation. Penetrating eyes explored the granite walls and locked onto Paisley’s rigid form. CheeTrann’s chanting intensified. The man’s image rippled apart and disappeared piece by piece until only the eyes remained, blue ice staring with such malice Paisley’s heart quaked. He clutched his chest. A moan slid past his lips. He felt himself falling, tumbling head over heels. The last thing his saw—the eyes melting like blue candle wax and dripping down the inside of the crystal.

  Gradually he became aware that he could not see or feel and wondered if he was still contained within the confines of a body. Or perhaps he floated free of it to mingle with this twilight nothingness for the rest of eternity. He found it odd that he was not afraid, nor was he worried. Content—the only word that came to mind—was not quite it, but close enough.

  The sudden realization that he was not alone came as a shock. Yet he knew an essence other than his own pulsed in the grayness beside him. An attempt to peer into the starless night failed. The effort drained his last remaining strength.

  Floating into consciousness some time later, he discovered that his large body lay sprawled on the tower floor. Next to him CheeTrann regarded him with haunted eyes. Paisley tried to move. Myrrh’s Sentinel shook his head and laid a gentle hand upon his brow.

  “Be still, my friend. You have journeyed far. Let your body rest.”

  A word barely formed before it evaporated. He tried again, licked his lips, and with the third try thought he heard it leave his throat to create sound.

  The hand pressed lightly. Irresistible sleep immersed him in a dreamless place, where rest healed and endless time passed.

  When he opened his eyes, morning light poured in the tower entrance. He yawned and stretched and struggled to sitting. Birds singing gladdened his heart. The smells of autumn perfumed the air. Life flooded through him. Another yawn squeezed tears to the corners of his eyes. He wiped them dry and stood.

  CheeTrann sat at the chess table. His bearded chin rested on his massive chest. Thick, white hair tumbled over his face. Paisley sat down opposite and waited.

  When the eyes opened, the specter straightened, his face alive with relief. “You are awake.”

  “What happened? I was someplace…” Paisley gazed around the tower and shrugged.

  “Nissasa Rattori paid us a visit.”

  “Who? Oh. The man in the crystal.” He looked for Evolsefil. “Where is it?”

  CheeTrann smiled. “I’ve hidden it again. And yes, the man in the crystal. What do you remember?”

  Paisley touched his chest. “A piercing pain in my heart.”

  “He tried to kill you. At least he tried to kill whomever he sensed close to the crystal. I took you away, hid you where he could not find you.”

  “Where was I? It was so peaceful.”

  “I took you deep into Surazal, death’s domain, and kept you there until Nissasa grew tired of searching.”

  Paisley looked down at his body. “Am I dead then?”

  The Sentinel of Myrrh’s face softened. “You are very much alive, my friend. I am the one who is dead. My state allowed me to protect you. But now Nissasa knows that you guard Evolsefil. He will not stop looking until you are dead. You must leave Nemttachenn.”

  “And you, CheeTrann? What of you?”

  “He cannot kill me.”

  “I’m bettin’ he can destroy ya.”

  The specter was quiet.

  Paisley picked up his black queen. “I’m not leavin’ my post, and I’m not leavin’ you here to fight alone.” He placed the queen on the board and began to arrange his pawns.

  CheeTrann regarded him through slitted eyes. “I might not be able to save you next time.”

  Paisley placed his king. “You afraid I’ll win?”

  A laugh shook the Sentinel’s chest. “I can’t imagine that happening.”

  “We shall see. Your move.”

  Sparrow didn’t remember lying down or pulling a blanket up to her chin or closing her eyes. She couldn’t recall the moment sleep claimed her. All she knew—she was entangled in a dream, where a game of hide and seek pitched her down long, fiery corridors; into pits of flaming, hungry creatures; and over ground covered with bubbling pools of smoking, hot lava.

  Hysteria gripped her, squeezing the life from her heart like juice from a plum. Everywhere she looked, icy blue eyes tracked her, watched her, followed her, drilled into hers. Panic sent her tumbling down a steep lava encrusted hill. She sprawled at the bottom, a cry for help screaming through her mind. A man’s malicious laugh sent a thrill of terror careening through her. Abject fear curled her into a fetal position. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking, unseeing—The laughter echoed again and again and again.

  Arms encircled her. “SparrowLyn AsTar, it’s Almiralyn. Wake up.”

  Almiralyn? The name washing over her squelched the flames and quieted the terror. “Almiralyn.” Her tongue lapped its familiar ring, rolled it around her mouth.

  “Sparrow open your eyes.” Although gentle, the words held a command she dared not disregard.
>
  She forced herself to peek through a small crack between her lids. Relief made her whole body shake. She stared into sapphire eyes and let the sobs escape—let the tears stream—let the Guardian’s presence chase away the panic, the hysterical desire to laugh, the icy, icy blue eyes.

  The quiet of her quarters soothed her almost as much as Almiralyn’s presence. Unable to speak, she relaxed into the Guardian’s comforting embrace and gave herself time to anchor in the reality of Human comfort and the safety represented by her companion. When only remnants of the dream flitted through her memory, she sat up and ran trembling hands through her damp hair and interlocked her fingers behind her head. “That was horrid. Never in my life have I had a dream like that.” Her eyes sought Almiralyn’s. “It was a dream, wasn’t it?”

  Almiralyn frowned. “It was Nissasa. He traced your energy signature. The man is good. So, my dear, are you. I’m impressed by your fortitude. Most would have succumbed. Forgive me for not reminding you to shield yourself.”

  Sparrow lowered her hands. “How did you know?”

  “I had set a part of my mind to guard you. Your telepathic cry for help woke me.” She held out a chalice.

  Sparrow cupped it in her hands. “I remember when I discovered I was telepathic. One Man and I were following Merrilea behind the waterfall at Demrach Gateway.” She took a sip of cool water. “It seemed so natural that I wasn’t even surprised.” After a deep drink, she crossed to the washstand and splashed water on her face. Patting it dry, she regarded Almiralyn with a new sense of urgency. “I need to paint. I’m not sure what will come but…” She hung the towel on a hook. “Do you think it is what Nissasa wants me to do?”

  The Guardian came to her feet. “Let’s go find out. I’ll put shields around us both, and you can see what appears on your canvas. I’m willing to bet we will learn something important.”

  Submerged in their individual thoughts, they made their way to her studio. Sparrow set about preparing to paint. Almiralyn created a ward-protected area in which to do so. When all was ready, Sparrow picked up her palette and closed her eyes. A vague image formed. She stared at the blank canvas and dipped her brush.

  10

  Master’s Reach

  DerTah

  E sán scrambled to move backpacks and weather blankets well back in the hollow tree, wedged himself beneath Desirol, and prepared to erect a shield. Not far away, his inner sight picked out a ludoc cat crouched beneath a tree. Its charcoal eyes glistened in the late afternoon light. Pewter gray fur divided into pale gray patches outlined in black blended into shadow. Unlike other DerTahan wild cats, its head was shaped like an arrowhead. Pointed gray ears topped with black tufts twitched, picking up sounds Esán knew were far out of Human range. Its extra-long tail curved over its back. The black, tufted tip switched back and forth above its head. Huge nostrils opened and closed. A growl reverberated throughout the clearing.

  Two long, lopping strides brought it to the base of the tree. A large paw reached into the hollow, patted around, and snagged a shoulder strap. The backpack toppled out of reach. The gray paw withdrew. A pewter nose squeezed through the opening. Hungry eyes gleamed just below the top arc of the hollow. A frustrated growl shook the tree. The nose withdrew and the paw returned. Claws raked the lower walls, flinging dirt, dry leaves, and moss into the air.

  Ira’s agitated exclamation floated down to him. “What’s happening. I can’t hold on much longer.”

  Angling his head upward, Esán called softly, “We’re like mice trapped in a hole. It’s too big to reach us, but it hasn’t given up.”

  The paw swiped the shields. Sparkles of light scattered around it. Another menacing snarl rocked the tree. Once again, the paw retreated.

  An image of the ludoc, sitting on its haunches staring up at the top of the tree, flashed through Esán’s mind. The huge cat crouched.

  “Hold on, everyone.”

  The ludoc launched its mighty body into the air, hit the side of the tree, clawed with frantic paws, and plunged to the ground, moss and dead bark raining after it. Speculation gleamed in the dark charcoal eyes. Backing away from the tree, it crouched lower. The immense power of its hind legs rocketed it upward. The tree shuddered beneath its weight. Bared claws found purchase, and the cat began to climb.

  Desirol lost his hold and slid downward. “Can’t stop!”

  Esán let the shields go, jumped to the ground, and rolled to one side. Desirol landed and caught himself halfway to his knees.

  Outside the hollow, dead branches crashed to the ground. The tree groaned.

  “Alright down there?” Torgin called.

  Esán answered with a low-pitched shout. “Good!”

  Ira let out a startled exclamation. “Hey. It’s reaching in from the top. Not—”

  An angry buzzing cut him off. The sound grew louder and more agitated until the tree vibrated with the power of it.

  Torgin climbed down beside Desirol. “What’s that?” He reached up to help Brie.

  Ira scrambled after her. “Hornets bigger than my fist. Run!”

  Above them, the ludoc let out an angry howl. The buzzing grew more frantic.

  “Quick!” Esán grabbed Brie and ran between ferns. Torgin, Ira, and Desirol tore after them. Ducking beneath a tangle of vines, they huddled together and stared in amazement at the spectacle playing out by the hollow tree.

  Hanging by its tail and hind legs from a rotten branch high above the ground, the ludoc swatted at the mottled black and green hornets swarming around it. Splintering wood wrenched the branch lower. The ludoc scrambled to reach the trunk. A loud crack and the cat crashed through dead branches, flipped in the air, and landed on all fours. Hornets streaked toward it. The sound of leather slapping against leather filled the clearing.

  Brie gasped. “Look!”

  Row upon row of steel-gray scales unrolled from the ludoc’s head to its hind quarters until its entire body was encased. A piercing screech shook the clearing. Launching into the air, it unfurled immense, scale-incrusted wings. Wind whipped the tall ferns and flattened fragile plant life against the forest floor. A massive swarm of hornets streaked after it. Around the top of the hollow tree others grouped, their feral buzz less aggressive, their movements less agitated.

  Ira gave a nervous laugh. “Its fur changed to leather armor right in front of our eyes. Wow!”

  “And it flipped in mid-air and landed on its feet.” Desirol shook his head.

  Torgin looked dumbfounded. Ira clapped him on the back. “Who woulda thought we’d be saved from a killer cat by killer hornets. Right, Torg?”

  Brie and Esán exchanged glances.

  Desirol caught the look and frowned. “What’s up?”

  Esán’s gaze tracked the disappearing creature. “Ludoc cats don’t grow scales and fly.”

  “Then what was that ?” Ira demanded.

  Brie slipped a hand into Esán’s. “I don’t remember reading about any creature that changed its coat to armor.”

  Fear pulsed through the group. Esán swallowed his and looked at his friends. “Of greater concern—those hornets have poison stingers the size of my index finger and our packs are inside their tree.”

  Desirol scowled. “So now what?”

  Nomed and Henrietta landed in Human form near the raptor center at Shu Chenaro and hurried toward the ranch house. A side door flew open and Allynae waved them forward. He shook the DiMensioner’s hand and hugged his aunt.

  “Am I glad to see you two. Thought Almiralyn was coming.”

  Henri pulled out her spectacles and perched them on her nose. “We decided it would be best if she stayed in Myrrh.”

  “Safer for all concerned.” Nomed ushered Henri into the house. “What’s happened to Wolloh? I don’t feel his presence.”

  Allynae’s expression grew strained. “I’m sorry, Seyes, he’s—”

  Nomed choked. “Where is he? Take me to him.”

  Henri rested a hand on each man’s arm. The next instant
they stood in Wolloh’s personal sitting room. A tall, loose-limbed man stood with his back to the door. At the sound of their arrival, he turned and lowered his gaze to rest on Henri’s face.

  “Miss Henrietta Avetlire.” He paused, then smiled. “I knew you would come. Your skills will be needed.” His attention shifted. “Ah, Seyes, I am so deeply sorry about Wolloh. I know he was like a father to you.”

  Nomed tried to make coherent sense of the man’s words. A sudden heaviness of heart forced him to grab the back of a chair. His knees refused to support him. From some distant place, he saw himself begin a slow motion fall. Hands caught him, guided him to a chair, and eased him onto it.

  Henrietta held a tumbler of water to his lips. “Drink, Seyes. That’s it. Better?”

  He tried to speak, then nodded. She offered him another sip and rested her small hand on his. Calm spread through him. He looked up at the tall man. “You’re Relevart, Wolloh’s mentor.”

  “Yes. He was my favorite student. I shall miss him.” The dark intelligent eyes locked onto his. Something in the look held a warning.

  Nomed dropped his face in his hands. When he had regained control, he looked up. “I understand.”

  “Good. Let us adjourn to the dining room. Stebben has had a meal prepared.”

  Henri’s eyes widened behind her spectacles. “Ah, Stebben. How is he handling all of this?”

  Relevart offered his arm. “I suggest we join him, and you can see for yourself.”

  When they approached the dining room, Stebben beckoned them from a door across the hall. In silence, they trouped after him and stepped beyond an open wooden panel on the far side of the room. The snap of it sliding shut seemed so final that Nomed could not help but look over his shoulder. A hand on his arm urged him along a dimly lit tunnel. Another panel opened. As he crossed the threshold, One Man stepped from the shadows and ushered him to a love seat on which Wolloh’s prostrate figure rested.