The UnFolding Collection Three

by S. K. Randolph

  Anada then put forth the plan to take over city transportation and communications. As she finished, the driver of the RiaTrain raised a hand.

  “I’m Lt. Cana. The Transit Control Center is well guarded, but I know a secret way in.” He looked sheepish. “Learned about it by accident. I went exploring and found it.” He grinned.

  Jordett spoke up. “How many men would you need?”

  “The interior control center is manned by two RewFaarans and a patroller whom I know. Give me one other patroller who isn’t afraid to use his weapon if he has to, and that should do it.”

  Jordett made a note. “Anyone here know the Dissemination Center?”

  Two hands went up, a man and a woman. The woman took the lead. “Holins, sir. I know the DC inside and out.” She indicated the man next to her. “Grodan and I have both worked there. The best way to gain control is to divide and conquer. If we can separate the Grid Keeper from the RewFaaran’s, we think he might switch sides. If he does, his men will follow.”

  Grodan joined her. “He’s been upset by the Brigade takeover and unwilling to give them full control of the center. He’s working with them, but…” He shrugged. “We’d need at least four others. The Brigade has four soldiers there, and the PPP has another six. It’s the RewFaarans we need to bring down. Like Holins, I think the others would fall in line. They’re all good men and women.”

  Again, Jordett made a note. “Let’s take a brief break. Sagus, Anada, Lavir, Lenadi, and Teva please join me at the table.”

  They gathered in a tight group. Jordett cleared his throat. “I may have misjudged you, Captain. I’ll be delighted to be proved wrong.”

  Lavir’s unfaltering gaze met his. “I intend to do exactly that, sir.”

  The process of selecting teams began. Jordett glanced from one intent face to the next. They are all good, even Lavir. I just hoped they are good enough .

  Kieel had remained on the Major’s shoulder throughout the proceedings. When the teams had been assigned and leaders selected, he landed at Teva’s place at the table and sank to sitting beside her hand. She smiled at him.

  “Feeling homesick?”

  He sighed. “Henri said I could be of use.” He plucked a piece of lint from his vest and flicked it away. “But I feel like that lint. Worthless.”

  “The Major told me about your skills as a scout. They will be needed again. I feel certain there will be a time when only you can save one of us. Keep your eyes open. Learn all you can. And, Kieel, trust your instincts and be ready to act.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” He lifted into the air and hovered next to Captain Lavir. The man looked startled and then curious.

  “I have few memories of Myrrh. Although I know I visited there as a boy, I don’t believe I ever saw a Nyti.”

  Kieel landed on his offered hand and bowed. “Kieel, at your service, sir.”

  “Good to meet you, Kieel. The Major tells me you are quite a good scout.”

  Kieel bowed again and flew to Jordett’s shoulder.

  Lavir shook his head. “These sure are strange times.” His gaze scanned the room before settling on Jordett. “Thank you, Major, for allowing me to stay. We have had our differences, but I swear to do everything I can to advance our cause.” He pulled a mini chronometer from his pocket. “Dawn will come much too soon. I’d better get some sleep.”

  Kieel watched him depart. When the door closed on the last member of the small resistance, he fluttered by Jordett’s side. “Do you trust him?”

  Jordett yawned. “Do you?”

  “As much as I trust any of the others.” He fluttered to a pillow. “Bedtime, Jordy.”

  Jordett laughed. “Bedtime it is.”

  Kieel curled up and closed his eyes. Visions of the Terces Wood infused his dreams—Ashor and Mumshoo, Reana and her dragonfly, his beautiful forest, and the Wood Tiffs. Will I ever see them again?

  20

  Master’s Reach

  DerTah

  A llynae and Stebben stood at the center of the arena at Shu Chenaro just after the sun had risen. Gerolyn had sent a message. The time to raise the shields had arrived. Although he and Stebben had rehearsed the process, Allynae’s nerves jingled with doubt. I chose not to become a DiMensioner. What do I think I’m doing?

  Beside him, Stebben retained a calm and dignified demeanor. His acceptance of his skills and his ability to access them with flawless efficiency were two things Allynae tried to emulate. Almiralyn had told him he was talented. You shifted to a winged horse for Emit’s sake. Stop negating yourself. It only gets in the way.

  Stebben caught his eye and nodded. They began to chant.

  "Shield surrounding ranch and land

  Prepare to rise at our command.

  Remain intact, do not dissolve,

  Hold ready ’til the fights resolve.

  Three claps the signal to begin

  A fast retreat above the din.

  Lift your glimmering, guarding light,

  And stay illuminated bright."

  Three loud claps reverberated off the walls of the arena. Above them the wards formed a gleaming, frothy light.

  Allynae smiled. “Working with you, Stebben, is a pleasure. What’s next?”

  “While we await Gerolyn’s message, One Man asked me to teach you to teleport. He says you have the talent, but resist learning.”

  The smile on Allynae’s face dissolved into a grimace. “I only teleported once with Corvus’ help, but have never managed it on my own.” He shrugged.

  “Then it is time, my friend. I will stand on the far side of the arena. You stay here.”

  Sure hope I can do this . Allynae’s apprehension escalated as Stebben walked away.

  One Man and Jeet in the form of small desert spiders, hid on the shaded side of the tent where two loyal supporters of Lorsedi were held captive. Their goal—to alert the men that friends were close and to enlist their aid.

  Jeet scurried from sight. One Man followed. The soldiers sat facing the entrance to the tent, hands tied behind them, feet bound to the legs of their camp stools. One Man and Jeet materialized behind them and clamped a hand over their mouths.

  “Friends,” One Man murmured. “No noise. Understood.”

  Both heads nodded.

  “One of us is a Pentharian. Don’t be startled.” He stepped to the entrance, flipped the tent flap closed, and hurried to help Jeet cut their bonds. Within moments, they were free and rubbing the circulation back into wrists and ankles.

  While Jeet guarded the entrance, One Man said, “We are allies of the Largeen Joram. He sent us to take over the camp. We know you are loyal to Lorsedi.”

  The taller of the two men looked curious. “How’d you know that?”

  The shorter smiled. “Are you the one they call One Man, the father of the boy The MasTer’s after?”

  “I am.”

  “A DiMensioner of sorts,” the man told his comrade.

  The second man shot Jeet a nervous glance. “Haven’t ever met a Pentharian. Heard they’d sided with Myrrh though.” He held out his hand. “Name’s Tylest and this is Rosser. Good to know we aren’t alone. What’s the plan?”

  One Man touched it palm to palm. “There are two other supporters of the Largeen Joram in camp.”

  Rosser nodded. “Ya. Frease and Domatee. They were smarter than us and kept their mouths shut.”

  Quickly, they discussed options for alerting them and for securing the two men who might create problems for the take over. It was decided that Tylest and Rosser would stay put until Tesilend’s men made their move. One Man would make sure Tesilend knew they weren’t the enemy.

  Jeet touched One Man’s arm. “Time, my friend.” He disappeared into the shape of a desert fly and buzzed from the tent.

  One Man grinned at the astonished looks on the RewFaarans’ faces. “See you in a few.” He shifted and buzzed after the Pentharian.

  They found Frease and Domatee standing at their tent entrance watching the antics of
their comrades.

  Shifting to Human behind them, One Man spoke in an undertone, “Lorsedi Telisnoe sent us. Close the tent flap and turn around.”

  A short, muscular man flipped the flap into place. Both men turned, their eyes darting from Jeet to One Man.

  A hasty explanation later, they were on the move. Frease and Domatee, with desert flies flitting close by, ambled through camp to a tent on the opposite side. Domatee approached first, stuck his head in and called softly, “Need to talk.”

  A thick-necked man appeared in the entrance. “What?”

  Frease looked over his shoulder and back. “Inside. Important.”

  The man made room for them to enter. The second man rose from his camp stool. “What do you want?”

  Two flies buzzed inside. Domatee flipped the tent flap closed. One Man and Jeet materialized behind the two men. In record time, they were gagged and trussed to their cots. Jeet shifted and zipped away to give the signal.

  One Man stretched his senses outward. Tesilend’s men crept forward between tents.

  A traitor rounded a corner and yelled, “Enemy! E-n-e-m-y!”

  Chaos erupted. The four loyal RewFaaran’s rushed into the fracas. Soldiers met hand to hand. The fighting was intense and brutal. Screams of pain pierced the air, weapons fired, lives ended in pools of blood. The wounded lay still or crawled to the sidelines. Two of Rattori’s Brigade fled on horseback, a cloud of dust marking their path across the desert.

  One Man flashed into the midst of the battle. Startled soldiers on both sides hesitated. In that momentary pause, he downed the three remaining traitors with a mind probe that toppled them to the ground. A cheer went up. The offensive was over.

  Tesilend strode from behind a tent, holding his arm, his face covered with blood. He called a man forward. “Take charge. Set up triage for the wounded on both sides. Have Nissasa’s surviving men prepare the dead to be returned to RewFaar for burial.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A second man, assigned the job of assessing the damage and reporting back, hurried away. As ordered, Jeet shifted and began his patrol of the skies. Orders completed, Grantese sank down on a cot in his tent.

  One Man joined him. “Let me have a look at that arm.”

  Tesilend peeled back the tattered, blood-soaked edges of his sleeve to expose a knife wound on his upper arm. “Not too bad. You’ll find a medical kit is in my pack.”

  One Man found the kit and went to work cleansing the wound.

  The Grantese flinched. “Burns. How’s it look.”

  “If you’ll allow me to do a touch of healing, it won’t be bad at all.”

  A measured glance and a nod were the only reply.

  One Man traced the cut with a gentle finger. The bleeding ceased. The edges began to reknit. Time would do the rest. As he finished taping a bandage in place, the man assigned to assess the damage marched into the tent.

  Tesilend flexed his arm, eased it to his lap, and listened to the report. Only three of his fourteen loyal men were unharmed. Three were dead. Eight were wounded. Of Nissasa’s brigade two had escaped, three were unhurt, five were dead, and five were wounded, two of them seriously.

  After the man left, Tesilend sighed, “Good men died today. Good men on both sides.”

  One Man put a hand on his shoulder. “Rest. I’ll help with the wounded and oversee the cleanup. If anything needs your personal attention, I’ll wake you.”

  “Call me in one chron circle,” Tesilend called after him.

  Walking into the bright light of mid-turning, One Man paused and allowed the sun’s heat to penetrate the chill that had gripped him as the battle played out around him. The death of each man—the loss of his place in the scheme of things, the cold emptiness that had once held his spirit—wrung tears from his heart. Thoughts of Wodash od DerTah flashed through his mind. How glad I am not to be a death shadow. How sad I am for those whose life choices bring them to the place of participating in death’s horrors for eternity.

  At the border between Shu Chenaro and the Desert of Fera Finnero, the curtain of protection lifted. Mounted on horseback, fifty loyal RewFaaran soldiers stormed Nissasa’s camp. The thunder of hooves, dust, and the clamor of battle filled the air. Confused rebels shouted a warning. Men tumbled from their tents, weapons in hand, incredulous faces turned toward their enemy. Shots were fired. Men fell. Like wandering sheep, those who survived the assault were herded and entrapped in a circle of skittish horses and their exhilarated riders. In less than a quarter circle of the chronometer, the skirmish had ended. Surprise had triumphed.

  Voer and Yaro soared above the fray in vulture form, found Nissasa’s staff, plucked them up and deposited them at Lorsedi’s feet. Lifting again, they swept the perimeter of the encampment, searching for traitors who may have escaped. In the distance, a cloud of dust followed in the slipstream of a fast-moving cavalcade. The Sebborr had deserted the forty men of Rattori’s Brigade, taking with them their tents, rohes, and weapons. Nothing else moved on the red sand.

  Taking the lead, Voer swooped back the way they had come and landed beside the Largeen Joram. Yaro’s golden form appeared beside him. Lorsedi acknowledged their arrival and studied Nissasa’s captured troops with forbidding inscrutability.

  Orders for the care of the dead and wounded were given. A small contingent of men left the imprisoning semi-circle of Lorsedi’s men. Horses were maneuvered to fill the gaps. Nissasa’s three ranking officers stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the Largeen Joram. His gaze raked their faces and then traveled the twenty-three men standing at attention in rows behind them.

  “My position as your leader and the Largeen Joram of the planet of RewFaar, dictates that I have low tolerance for treason in any form. By supporting Nissasa Rattori, you have, each and every one, committed treason against the government and leadership of RewFaar. Were we on our home planet, all of you would face The Military Tribunal.”

  Rattori’s Brigade remained at attention, their eyes focused straight ahead. One officer scowled. Two rows back a soldier sneered. A second clenched fists and muttered under his breath. No one else moved.

  Lorsedi gave each of the three a long, calculating look. “You and you, front and center.”

  Anger laced with hatred suffused the second soldier’s face. He launched into a run straight for the Largeen Joram. Voer moved, caught him mid-stride, and held him dangling in the air, feet kicking and fists flailing against nothing.

  Unaffected by the man’s thrashing, Voer waited, his gaze on Lorsedi. Two loyal soldiers marched forward. The man went limp. Voer set him down between the two and stepped back to his place beside Yaro.

  “This man and these officers will be placed in custody awaiting trial. The rest of you will be given the opportunity to pledge your loyalty to the people and governing body of RewFaar one last time. If you choose not to do so, you will face the Tribunal with your comrades. If you do and break your pledge, you will face a firing squad of your peers.”

  The four men were surrounded and escorted to a tent, where guards took up a position on either side of the entrance.

  One of Nissasa’s remaining officers called the roll. Each man stepped forward, repeated the pledge of loyalty, and returned to his place in line. None refused. When the ceremony was complete, Lorsedi appointed a group composed of his own men to remain on the desert side of the shields. The rest were marched to the Shu Chenaro camp and assigned to various tasks.

  Voer approved. Nissasa would return. Lorsedi wanted the camp to look as normal as possible. Voer, Yaro, and Lorsedi were the last to cross the border. Gerolyn met them and at Lorsedi’s request sent a message to lower the shields. While she concentrated her attention elsewhere, Lorsedi spoke to Voer and Yaro.

  “I thank you for your assistance. Now that we have regained control, I have a request for each of you. Voer, I would like you to remain with me. I appreciate your military training and knowledge. I imagine we will have more work to do.”

  Voer to
uched his heart. “I am honored to be by your side, Largeen Joram of RewFaar.”

  “Yaro, find Desirol and his friends and assist them in any way you can. I know Torgin is your heart brother. Please care for my son as you care for him.”

  Yaro also touched his heart. “Thank you, Largeen Joram. I will do my best to return Desirol to you unharmed.”

  Voer and Yaro touched foreheads in the way of the Pentharian. “Be safe, my brother.”

  “And you, Voer.” Yaro vanished and a DerTahan falcon lifted into flight. As he flew deeper into Shu Chenaro, the shields shimmered into place.

  Gerolyn joined them. “I know the Key to open a gate in the shields.” Her gaze followed Yaro. “Stebben will send him through from the ranch.”

  Lorsedi’s dark eyes, searched her face. “What is the word from One Man?”

  “They, too, were successful and now hold the gateway. Two men escaped on horseback. He believes they will try to reach Nissasa’s camp.”

  Voer observed them with a slight smile. Gerolyn provided a casualty report and a list of how many traitors were under guard. A request for further instructions concluded her account. Voer’s smile broadened. The report had been delivered with the confidence of one trained to authority. Lorsedi listened with a reluctance that turned to admiration. The Largeen Joram had met his match in Gerolyn AsTar.

  Brie, Henri, and WoNa prepared for flight. Sebborr rode their direction. Although they did not sense the riders’ intent was to find them, they felt the need to be well beyond their reach. Already a slight tremor shook the sand beneath their feet. Brie looked at her companions. She had slept. They had not. The Oracle had dark circles beneath her eyes. Her aunt, on the other hand, bristled with energy as she dropped her spectacles into the pocket of her shirt and donned her kcalo.

  “Shift you two. We must out-fly those men, or we will be in a predicament.” Her physical body vanished. A dune hawk appeared and cocked its gray head. A violet eye gleamed.