The UnFolding Collection Three

by S. K. Randolph

  WoNa’s beetle fluttered from the small flash of light that accompanied her change and scurried beneath the gray back feathers. The hawk took flight. Brie shifted and soared after her aunt. Side by side, they chased the sun across the sky as it raced to slip behind the Toelachoc Mountains. Below, the dunes gave way to a sand sheet covered with a tessellated mosaic of small stones. As they approached the mountains, dried plants of varying sizes had taken root in larger fractures formed by the sudden rush of water down the mountain slopes during spring storms.

  Ahead a cleft between two red, rocky mountains beckoned. Henri shot toward it. Brie circled back. No sign of the Sebborr . She darted after her aunt. A short distance into the partial divide, a fissure wide enough for a horse and rider formed an arched channel to the right. Gliding along it, Brie marveled at the geological beauty of the stone walls, the strata containing stories of the mountain’s past. As she neared the end, a flat expanse of dry, cracked ground stretched out to form a box canyon. Framed within the steep walls, a large, stone building soaked up the late afternoon sun.

  She winged her way to the prison, circled above it, shuddered, and streaked away from the violence emanating from every stone. Swooping to join her aunt and WoNa, she mulled over the Oracle’s reference to women not faring well there. Of course, she, WoNa, and her aunt weren’t ordinary women. Still the potency of the emotions she had felt left her uncertain and wary.

  Henri landed a short distance from the gates of Toelachoc Prison. In unison she and WoNa resumed their Human forms. Brie appeared next to them, her eyes huge and her hand pressed to her heart.

  Henrietta tipped her head. “It is not a pleasant place, niece.”

  WoNa’s blind eyes glinted. “Men were tortured here—violence begets violence. We must be cautious, and we must stay together. Women have disappeared from the prison, never to be found again. No one knows what happened to them.” She reached for Brie. “You, Brielle, are the most vulnerable. Stay between us.” She grew thoughtful. “Do you feel Karrew, Henri?”

  “I think so, but I can’t be sure.” She clasped Brie’s hand. “Wards are dangerous to use here. Although they would help to hide us, they would also call the ghosts to us.”

  “How about an illusion of invisibility?” Brie asked.

  WoNa shook her head. “Using any form of DiMensionery increases our danger. As with the death shadow, fear is a magnet. Stay close and look nothing in the eye.”

  With Brie in between them, the women walked toward the prison. Dried plants and rocky debris made their path an obstacle course. Henri kept her pace easy, steering her companions around larger stones and along what must have once been a narrow roadway. As they approached the gate, sunlight shot through squares of rusted metal lattice work, forming a patchwork of shadow and light on the rough ground.

  Henri shaded her eyes and measured the angle of the sun and its distance from the rim of the canyon. “Time is of the essence,” she murmured.

  WoNa caught her breath. “Wait.”

  They stopped. Blind eyes opened wider. She tilted her head to one side and then the other.

  Henri held her impatience in check. “What is it, WoNa?”

  The Oracle exhaled sharply. “It can’t be.” A hand seemed to hold her heart in her chest. The hand dropped. “I must be wrong.” A tear slid down her cheek. “We need to hurry. The air already begins to cool. This is not a place we want to be after the moons rise.”

  Henri led her companions across the stone floor to a steep stairway and paused. The tingling essence of a recent passing indicated that someone or something had been here not long ago.

  “WoNa, we are going down a staircase. It’s about the width of a large man with walls on both sides. Brie will be right in front of you.”

  “The darkness is my friend, Henri. I will be fine. Keep your eyes down, both of you. We are going where men have died in horrible ways. Stay close together. If anything comes near, stop and huddle. The legends say these disembodied spirits dislike—”

  A blast of hostile air blew past them. Henri flinched. A faceless figure bolted up the stairs, brushed cool dampness over her body, and disappeared into a gaping hole in the far wall. The barbaric undercurrents in the prison closed around her. Nothing else moved.

  One cautious step at a time, she descended the stairs. Alert senses picked up the sounds of Brie and WoNa, the ancient smell of death, the faint screams of the long dead. At the bottom, darkness broken by an occasional weak shaft of light engulfed them. Inch by inch, she shepherded her charges over the rough stone floor. The air, already cold, grew more so the further they went. We’re almost there .

  Something brushed her cheek. A writhing, misty human shape wafted near them, whimpered, and vaporized. Another hovered, empty eye sockets staring. A translucent male figure stepped through a wall and planted his wavering form in her path. Henri came to an abrupt halt.

  “Behind me,” WoNa whispered.

  Henri and Brie obeyed.

  The man growled low in his throat, a sound that grew louder as his mouth gaped wider. More apparitions materialized.

  WoNa crooned a soft song. Henri strained to catch the words. Brie pressed closer. Hostile expressions grew unsure. The leader snarled. His cohorts echoed the gruesome sound. Hatred etched glowing translucent faces with a ruthlessness that made Henri cringe

  In slow motion, she eased her companions back toward the stairs. A cloud of cold froze her in place. Pulling out her spectacles, she tapped them on her palm. Tap, tap, tap, pause…tap, tap…pause…tap.

  WoNa’s song picked up its rhythm. Around them the specters slipped away until only the male figure remained. Vacuous eyes seemed to search their faces. A moan poured from the gaping mouth.

  “Water ConDria, come to me.” The words wailed like wind in a desert storm. “Come to me, gift of life.”

  Henri placed a hand on her niece’s shoulder. WoNa’s snake slithered from beneath her kcalo, hissing a warning.

  The apparition floated backward.

  The snaked whistled.

  With a final windy wail, the figure wavered and faded.

  Tesi coiled around WoNa’s wrist, eyes glowing like tiny, amber cabochons.

  Henri nudged them through the darkness to a cell at the end of the passageway. In the dim light that shot through a hole in the ceiling, an iron lattice door stood open. She drew her companions inside. The faint tingle of its former occupant hung in the air. Behind her, WoNa’s snake gave a soft hiss.

  “Karrew has been here,” WoNa whispered.

  “Yes,” Henri murmured. She remained near the door while her niece explored the cell.

  “He has definitely been here.” Brie held up a small black feather. “And there’s a perch and a dish of water. Did he fly away?”

  WoNa answered. “No. He was carried.”

  Henri gave an urgent shhhhh. “We need to leave. WoNa shift!”

  The small desert beetle flew to her shoulder and scurried into the folds of her hood.

  “Niece, hold my hand. Don’t let go.”

  She gripped Brie’s hand and pulled her from the cell and down the passage. Ghosts swarmed the stairway. A waterfall of violent, savage animosity cascaded toward them. Henri pressed Brie behind her, her body a shield, her power emanating around them in a sphere of golden light.

  From somewhere above, additional power exploded the cloud of doom and sent apparitions darting in all directions. Silence descended, engulfing them, holding them motionless.

  Brie whispered closed to her ear. “It’s alright. The Star of Truth is tingling.”

  Henri nodded and crept up the stone stairs.

  21

  Master’s Reach

  Myrrh

  A hush of anticipation hung over Veersuni. Almiralyn peeked between folds of purple velvet. Moonbeams penetrating the stained glass window and pooling around Elcaro’s Eye teased tiny winks of rainbow light from the white alabaster. No water trickled from the statue’s hands.

  Elbowing
the velvet aside, she peered from beneath the bench. Easing her body upright, she edged forward one soundless step at a time. Midway to the fountain, she paused. Nothing alarmed her—nothing suggested danger.

  Sparrow tiptoed to her side and gripped her hand. Together, they stepped closer. A half-circle of exposed water reflected the light soaked color of stained glass. Another step brought them to the fountain’s rim, the full circumference of the bowl visible and undisturbed.

  Sparrow started to speak. Almiralyn gave a tiny shake of her head and waved a hand above the water. A small tremor dispersed the reflection. An image emerged from the depth of the bowl.

  “Hello, ladies.” A man’s fatigue-lined faced wrung a small gasp from Sparrow.

  Relief erased Almiralyn’s dread of what she might see. “Thank you, my friend. I felt certain it was your interference that saved us from—”

  “Do not call attention back to us, my dear. Listen closely. The opposition grows stronger. I have, however, managed to place several obstacles in the way. Its hold on Elcaro’s Eye has been destroyed. That does not guarantee it won’t be re-established. Use the Eye with care and always with shields in place. Do not leave Zugo alone with the fountain.”

  His expression grew harried. “I have to go. Take care of yourselves.”

  The imaged flashed from view.

  Sparrow turned a quizzical gaze her direction. “Was that Reader?”

  “It was. He appeared more tired than I have ever seen him.”

  “Can I please ask the fountain to show us the twins?”

  The anxiety in her friend’s face made Almiralyn bite off a negative response. On the surface, a blurred image fought to focus, faded and returned sharp, clear, and demanding.

  A figure draped in the long folds of a kcalo waited half-hidden in shadow at the edge of a fading pattern of lattice work bars. Thin shafts of sunlight tickled the edges of the midnight blue kcalo and gleamed on a tendril of auburn-tinged black hair. Dark lashes rimmed intense brown eyes that stared with concentrated attention at an arched opening in a rough stone wall.

  “Who is it?” whispered Sparrow.

  Almiralyn kept her eyes fixed on the image in the fountain, a half smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “With luck, we will soon know. Watch.”

  Henri’s diminutive figure appeared at the top of the stairway. Brie peeked over her shoulder.

  Stepping from the beneath the arch, Henrietta withdrew her spectacles and perched them on her nose. Her magnified gaze searched the hall and came to rest on the mysterious stranger. “Ahhh.”

  “What is it?” Brie murmured.

  “We shall see in due course, niece.” She walked midway across the space and came to a standstill.

  “You are Sebborr, are you not? Should we be afraid?”

  Remaining in shadow, he answered. “Tell me who you are, and I will tell you if you should fear me.”

  Henri smiled. “I am quite sure you already know who I am, NeTols Terah.”

  A brief gleam of even white teeth flashed and disappeared. Still the man did not move.

  “You are the aunt of the Guardian of Myrrh and behind you, I believe, is the ConDria returned. My father left his mark on her.”

  Brie stepped from behind her great aunt. “I’m Brielle. Your father?”

  “The man who claims me as his son is Dahe Terah.”

  Brie touched the spot where the mark had been and grimaced.

  The glint of his smile reappeared. “He will never forgive the Oracle of the Atrilaasu for removing it. But you are not here to discuss my father. Come.”

  He glided over the silhouetted latticework, his kcalo making the slightest swish as he walked. On the far side of a wide, empty space, he rounded a corner and entered a small room. Light from the only window etched out the shape of a raven.

  Almiralyn caught her breath. Her grip on the fountain’s rim tightened. She wanted to cry out, to be there in that room, to hold out an arm and feel the weight of her friend, to see herself reflected in his eye.

  Sparrow’s arm around her shoulders kept her steady. She wiped a tear from her cheek and projected her image through the fountain.

  Karrew perched on the back of an old wooden chair. He had a vague feeling he should know who looked down at him. The harder he tried, the more difficult it became to form a Human thought. He ruffled his feathers in frustration and sidestepped closer to the window. Whispering breezes teased him to fly, to join his brother ravens. He cocked his head. Yearning so deep he could not move flooded his heart. Yearning for— A beloved face flashed into focus. For an instant—an instant—gone.

  Henri knelt beside the chair and ran a gentle finger down the raven’s back. She shivered. Wildness waited to claim him. Efillaeh was needed now, and Ira was on the other side of DerTah. They could never get Karrew to him in time. She turned to ask Brie for the Stone of Remembering as WoNa materialized beside them.

  “If you use the stone without the knife, you will trap his Human mind in the body of a bird forever.”

  The Oracle sank onto a rickety cot and ran a gentle finger over the raven’s ragged feathers. NeTols slipped soundlessly away.

  Henri glanced at WoNa. She gave no indication she had noticed.

  “Oh!”

  Brie’s gasp of surprise pushed all thoughts of the Sebborran from her mind. The figure of a sleeping boy had materialized on the floor at her niece’s feet.

  Brie dropped to her knees. “Ira!” She shook him. He groaned and curled into a tighter ball. Another shake. “Ira, its Brielle. Wake up.”

  Blue eyes fluttered open. Ira pushed himself up on his forearms and moaned. “Ugh! Feel awful.” Scrabbling upright, he dropped his head in his hands and muttered. “I was dreaming about this crazy place, all midnight sky and stars. I couldn’t wake up.” He tugged at a brown lock of hair. “I can’t remember—”

  Henri tapped the side of his head.

  He blinked. The confusion in his face cleared. “Hi, Henri. Brie. Wow. And WoNa. Where are we?”

  Henri used the chair to leverage her body off the floor. “We’re in Toelachoc Prison. We’re very glad to see you.”

  “Is that Karrew? He doesn’t look too good.”

  He scrambled to his feet, pulling Brie with him. “Hey, Karrew. What’s up?”

  The raven retreated to the far side of the chair back.

  “Gosh, is he afraid?”

  WoNa held up an arm. Her snake’s urgent hiss cut the air like a surgeon’s knife. “Karrew needs Efillaeh and the Remembering Stone now. Henri and I will hold him. Hurry, we have little time.”

  Henri moved slowly to the chair, gently lifted the skittish raven, and placed him in WoNa’s lap. Brie tipped the Remembering Stone onto her palm; Ira drew the knife from its scabbard and touched the tip to Karrew’s heart. Brie held the stone to his head. The small room grew deathly still.

  Almiralyn strained to see what was happening. The dim light obscured Karrew within a circle of bodies. She had read his thoughts and realized that they might be too late. Her heart ached at the idea that the man she loved would never regain his Human form or speak or know who she was. A tear splashed on the surface of the water. Ripples rolled to the edges of the bowl. The image ceased to be.

  The coolness of the Theran morning swept the last remnants of sleep from Jordett’s mind. Seven opposition teams were in place for retaking the city and removing Rattori’s Brigade from Idronatti. Six teams had been assigned a KcernFensian, all of whom where telepathic. Kieel would fill the communication gap when needed. At Jordett’s signal, Teva would give the order. The Dissemination Center would be hit first, then the Transit Center. Once these vital areas were secured, the Tower compound would be attacked. He and his team were the coterie that would secure Tower One. He checked his mini-chron for the time and assured himself that his team was ready.

  Kieel sat on his shoulder, a tiny yawn distorting his features. He yawned again, shook his head, and climbed to his feet. “I’ll take a look around.�
� Keeping close to the building, he flew to the rooftop, hovered, and whizzed back to land on Jordett’s hand, his usual calm replaced by agitation.

  “A huge, black cloud is creeping toward the city.”

  Jordett tipped his head back. “A storm cloud?” He looked at the trembling Nyti.

  “No. Not natural—evil—malevolent—”

  Teva interrupted. “The others have seen it too. It’s coming in over Domlenah Blue, headed this way. Lenadi is certain it’s The MasTer’s Reach.”

  Her serious expression did nothing to lessen Jordett’s sudden wave of apprehension. “I’ve never heard of The MasTer’s Reach.”

  “Before I explain, I suggest we postpone our offensive until we know for certain what we’re dealing with. If indeed that is The Reach, we don’t want to give our plans away.”

  “Tell everyone to pull back to a sheltered position and wait for orders.”

  While Teva complied, Jordett instructed his team to prepare to move. When the message had been given, he led the way into the dim expanse of the building’s sub-level, gathered them into a huddle, and explained why they had withdrawn.

  “Teva will share with us what she knows about The MasTer’s Reach.”

  She nodded. “The Mocendi MasTer cannot leave TreBlaya, or he will perish. He has acquired a crystal from the Evolsefil Cavern’s which he uses to delve for information. It does not have far-reaching power; thus the link it forms to other crystals in the web is weak. Many sun cycles ago, The MasTer discovered an ancient book of demonic craft. Within the text, he learned a way by which he could be on TreBlaya, yet observe happenings throughout the Inner Universe. By burning the flesh from his bones and capturing the smoke and vapor in a container with the ashes, he could collect conscious awareness. Over time, he burned away all but the flesh on his torso and compressed the smoke, vapors, and ash in an air-tight obsidian urn. When he has a need to see beyond the power of the crystal, he releases a tiny amount of the smoke into a small vial. One of his minions carries it to a selected spot and breaks it open. The vapor blossoms into a huge cloud. His minions call the cloud The MasTer’s Reach.”