“Now, where did One Man put it?” A memory of him sliding it between two similar books directed her gazed to a shelf across the room. A quick search left her empty handed. Frowning, she ran a finger over the titled spines, stopped at a small gap between two slender volumes, and eased them further apart. Tucked as far back as it could go, she found the small, leather-bound journal. She cast her mind back to One Man’s actions earlier. I know he didn’t hide it. I remember it lined up with the books on either side.
More intrigued than ever, she curled up in the corner of a big chair near the fireplace and examined the battered cover and the title, El Stroma . She pondered the excerpt One Man had shared: “It is the Time of Ending on the planet of El Stroma. Most have fled or died. Acid rain falls in torrents. I write this short history in the hopes that someday the planet may be returned to its former beauty.” The picture it conjured up made her shiver.
Flipping the tattered pages, she studied the strange alphabet and the spidery script that shaped the letters. One word appeared repeatedly. She traced its unfamiliar contours with her fingertip. I wonder if it is a name…perhaps the name of the person who wrote the journal? With a sigh, she closed the book and pressed it between her hands. I’ll never be able to decipher this .
A painting on the wall opposite caught her eye. The impulse to return the journal to the shelf flickered and died. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that sooner.
Clutching the journal to her chest, she teleported.
Almiralyn contemplated the cascade of drops from the statue’s palms, turmoil seething through her thoughts. The desire to rid Myrrh of the Mocendi almost overpowered her common sense. Relevart had told her to stay in the caverns. Discarding her restlessness like an old coat, she went in search of the High Priestess of the Caves of Canedari. After sharing the latest news, she asked her to send a message to Tibin, asking him to warn Mondago and the creatures and small folk of the Terces Wood to stay clear of the RewFaaran camp until she let them know it was safe.
This errand complete, she considered her next move. With Sparrow’s help, I can use the ward-net to make the Mocendi’s lives miserable. Fully expecting to find Allynae’s companion ensconced with Owae, Merrilea, and Lisseta, she hurried to the healing room. Merrilea’s absence made sense. Sparrow’s aroused her curiosity.
After a brief discussion with Owae about Zugo’s condition, she left. The young DeoNyte was holding his own, but the burns inflicted by The MasTer were slow to heal. In the Cave of Canedari, she stopped and gazed abstractly at the spot where Evolsefil usually stood. If I were Sparrow, where would I be? She laughed. “I’d be painting.”
Teleporting to the studio entrance, she sent a telepathic message. “May I come in?”
The curtain whipped aside. “Mira, thank the Fathers you’re here. Come and look.”
A large canvas dominated the space. Sitting next to it, propped up against a jar, was the journal Wilith had found. Almiralyn positioned herself in front of the painting, taking in every detail.
Divided into panels, it depicted three different scenes. The mood of the first was hopeful—the dawn of a new turning, a woman cradling two newborns, a world overflowing with color and life. Panel two showed a transition to fear and uncertainty. A different woman hid two small children in her long skirts. Overhead the clouds churned and smoke tinted the landscape shades of gray. In panel three, dead bodies littered the ground. The sky glowed red, the countryside lay barren and black beneath a pounding rain. Most arresting, however, was a young woman standing in the midst of the chaos, wielding an acid torch. Hatred, scorn, and malice distorted the lovely face. Her muscular body was slender and well proportioned. Long dark hair caught up in a braid hung over one shoulder. Gleaming against her bloodied tunic was an open silver locket. The picture inside showed a boy of perhaps three, his eyes bright with intelligence.
“It’s the story in the journal.” Sparrow regarded her painting with a puzzled expression and shared her conversation with Zugo. “What do you think it all means, Mira?”
Almiralyn studied the woman on the canvas. Her mind traveled back over the past moon cycles, dissecting her dealings with the Mocendi League and its leader. She recalled a momentary appearance of a braid in the fountain and the misty figure that rose from Elcaro’s Eye, its head bowed, its arms held out in supplication. “Have you any thoughts about who she might be?”
Excitement replaced Sparrow’s puzzled examination of her artwork. “I don’t know who she is, but I believe she is important to The MasTer and the League.”
Almiralyn picked up the journal and laid a hand on her arm.
Wilith, Merrilea, and Elae looked up in surprise as they materialize by their table in the research area.
Elae noted the book in her hand. “You read it?”
“No, Sparrow painted it. Before we show you the painting, she will share a brief conversation she had with Zugo.”
When Sparrow finished, Almiralyn waved a hand and the painting appeared.
Everyone crowded around the canvas. Wilith cleared his throat. “Do you suppose she is related to The MasTer?”
“She could be his daughter,” Merrilea said. “Or his wife.”
Wilith rubbed his forehead. “He wouldn’t allow his wife or daughter to become involved in a revolution.”
“Why wouldn’t they be involved?” Sparrow asked.
“Because women don’t fight…” His voice trailed off as Almiralyn, Sparrow, and Merrilea all shot him a quelling look.
Elae, oblivious to the conversation, scrutinized the painting. “Who is the boy in the locket?”
Almiralyn studied the small portrait. “That is the important question, isn’t it?”
In Veersuni, the kneeling statue gazed into the bowl of Elcaro’s Eye from glistening alabaster eyes. A single drop slipped from her palms. The water formed rippled circles and grew still.
Wolloh walked at Relevart’s side through endless space. Constellations came and went; Nebula bloomed and faded; stars died and new ones birthed; galaxies whirled by; and still his mentor continued the unbroken rhythm of his long stride. It occurred to Wolloh to wonder why he had been brought to Mittkeer. The question formed and faded; the walk through time and no-time proceeded.
Relevart had much to think about and decisions to make. Mittkeer provided a place where no interval passed between entry and exit, a place to think and plan without loosing any of that precious commodity—time.
Froetise kept him apprised of events beyond the boundaries. Thus far, The MasTer had guessed that he, Relevart, had left Persow, that Wolloh lived, that Evolsefil was hidden somewhere in the Terces Wood. He assumed that Renn Whalend was his prisoner, that Nissasa had died, that he was winning one battle after the other, that Thera and Myrrh would soon be his. He mustered his Mocendi for the final fight, reveling in his power and already celebrating the success of his plans for the future.
Relevart cast a sideways glance at his former student. As a young man, Wolloh had been a challenge to train—a worthwhile challenge, but a challenge nonetheless. He smiled to himself, confident that Wolloh would prove worthy of participating in this auspicious moment: the moment when the balance of power in the Universe prepared to shift and the conclusion of The Unfolding drew near.
Bilar, the constellation of justice and balance, created a swathe of radiance across the endless expanse of Mittkeer. Relevart faced his companion.
Wolloh stopped beside him. His intense single-eyed gaze regarded him. “I gather it is time to inform me of your plans.”
Relevart studied his features—the handsome right side, the disfigured left. “Do you remember your youthful dreams?”
“Do you mean my desire to achieve the rank of VarTerel? My choices shattered that dream a long time ago. Ah, youth. A time of assured thinking: I am the best, the strongest, the smartest, I don’t have to listen, I am invincible.” Nostalgia shaped his smile, stretching the left side of his mouth oddly to accommodate it.
Relevart
placed his staff between them. “You have come a long way from that arrogant young man, Wolloh Espyro. Your life’s journey has taught you more than you can imagine.” He began to chant:
“Froetise divide this staff in two.
Make both solid through and true.
Replicate your crystal power
Before which evil’s minions cower.”
The rowan staff blurred and split down the center. Two shafts nestled together beneath the gleam of Froetise. Relevart gripped one in each hand.
“One power for good and all;
Two shafts to avert the fall.
Standing together or apart,
They thwart those wielding The MasTer’s art.
A loud crack melted into the vastness of Mittkeer. Two staffs crackled with power. A gust of wind caught them—tossed them upward. A flash of light engulfed them. From the afterglow, four towering figures emerged, staffs in the hands of two. Matching step for step, they marched forward and, in unison, halted a short distance in front of Relevart and Wolloh.
A single voice boomed. “We, the Galactic Guardians, command the VarTerel of the Inner Universe to step forward.”
Relevart complied.
The figure touched the tip of the staff’s encased crystal to his forehead. “From this moment forth, you will be known as Avlin Enus, the Universal VarTerel. Your job is to right the wrongs done by those who would claim this Universe as their own. For this you will find and nurture a partnership which will bring balance to the Cosmos. If you agree, Avlin Enus, to accept your new responsibilities in the name of all that is true, take this staff as the symbol of your office.”
Relevart bowed and accepted the staff. Adrenaline rushed through his body. His arms stretched wide. The beat of his heart thrummed deep and hard until he thought his chest would explode and send it flying through Mittkeer. The crystal tip of the staff burst into dazzling light that bathed him, cleansed him, and left him pulsating with power. The blinding light faded, but left behind visual clarity and mental awareness so acute his head throbbed.
Wolloh observed the proceedings with a growing sense of expectancy. When the Guardian faced him and lifted the second staff, he found he could not breathe.
“Wolloh Espyro, High DiMensioner od DerTah, are you prepared to fight for the good of the Inner Universe from this moment forward and for all time?”
Oxygen gushed into his lungs. “I am.”
“Welcome, VarTerel of the Inner Universe. Avlin Enus will serve as your mentor. Listen to him well.” He touched Wolloh’s disfigured cheek. “We will not heal that which you have created, but leave it as a reminder and a lesson that is visible to all.” The man held out the staff. “Accept this staff, known henceforth as Vinredi, as a symbol of your new office.”
Wolloh took it. Power careened through every fiber of his body. Searing heat doubled him over. A blaze of light blinded him. Thunder rumbled across Mittkeer. When he straightened and his vision cleared, the Guardians had vanished, and a solemn Avlin Enus regarded him.
“How do you feel?”
Wolloh breathed. “Grateful is the only word that comes to mind. Grateful to you for your trust, Avlin Enus. Grateful for the opportunity to serve.”
The new Universal VarTerel smiled. “I will continue to be known as Relevart until The Unfolding releases me to pursue another course. Now, Wolloh Espyro, VarTerel of the Inner Universe, you have much to learn in a very short time. Hold onto me and raise Vinredi, your training is about to begin.”
The image in Elcaro’s Eye dissolved as they vanished from Mittkeer. The alabaster statue seemed to smile. Water slipped from her open palms, filling Veersuni with the sounds of change.
34
Master’s Reach
DerTah
T he wards around Shu Chenaro had been rebuilt and recoded. Somay, the charnockite jar wrapped in a canvas carry bag attached to his chest, sat astride Starfire, clutching a fistful of mane and peering down at the Tinga Forest. The impressive size of the trees and foliage brought to mind ludoc cats, gothraw, and insects twice the size of his hand. Wouldn’t mind seeing it someday . He glanced ahead where the Sea of Trinuge glowed with the approach of morning. Soon it would be time to land.
Somay slouched over the jar in an attempt to streamline his body in the wind and pondered his life’s journey. The Seed of Carsilem pressed him to be on the move. The Unfolding rushed ahead. He swam in the backwash instead of at the forefront. The urge to act, to find his son, to rid the Inner Universe of the Mocendi League made him chafe against the need to assist with the rejoining of Nissasa’s physical body and his quintessence.
The estate of the Dreelas of Trinuge came into view. Starfire began his descent, circling as he searched for a place to land unobserved. A small clearing in the trees bordering the manicured gardens surrounding the house opened up below them. As Starfire’s hooves touched the ground, he furled his wings and snorted softly.
Somay jumped to the ground.
Starfire looked back at him. His ears twitched. He swung his head in the direction of the house, pawed the ground, and shifted. Allynae looked grim. “Trouble on the way.”
Somay slipped deeper into the trees. Allynae ducked behind a large leafy bush. A tall, angular woman rushed down the path, her homely face made more unattractive by a disappointed sneer. She knelt and studied the ground. Stood up and scanned the sky. “I saw you. I know you’re here.”
Seyes Nomed ambled into the clearing. “I can assure you, Roween, there is no one here except you…and me, of course.” Almost eye to eye with her, he drawled, “I seem to recall the Dreela’s request that you remain in your rooms.” He perused the clearing. “And yet you are here. I find that curious.”
Roween’s chin jutted out and her eyes flashed. “I am the LaChett of the Largeen Joram of RewFaar. No one tells me what to do.” She flung herself down the path, tripped on her long skirt, and flounced like an angry child into the house.
Nomed kept his gaze fixed on her back until the slamming door hid her from view. Speaking in an undertone, he said, “Stay put for a few, and then meet me at the solarium door. I’ll go and make sure she’s under control.” He motioned to the right of the huge mansion and strode down the trail.
Allynae stepped from behind the bush and brushed the dirt from his knees. “What an unpleasant woman.”
Somay handed him the canvas carry bag and lifted the jar free. “I’m guessing we haven’t seen the last of her.” He looked toward the house. “Nomed’s on his way to the solarium. Shall we?”
Somay placed the jar on a table in the small, private sitting room where TheLise greeted them with a smile and the positive acknowledgement of Somay’s decision to reclaim his birth name. “You have always been Somay to me.” Her Dreelas demeanor cloaked her. “Nissasa’s body has almost reached the limits of its endurance. The sooner we reunite it with his quintessence, the better. Did WoNa tell you what to do with Souvitrico, the Oracle Stone?”
Somay related her instructions.
Nomed frowned. “Of course, Brie is not within reach. It seems nothing these turnings is easy.” He held the door open.
TheLise swept through. “I suggest we hurry. Roween is having tea with Tissent, who will do her best to keep her occupied.”
Roween’s rooms were close at hand. Somay crossed to the bed and studied the pale face of Nissasa Rattori. Hollowed cheeks gave him a haggard appearance. It had been several turnings since his body had received any type of nourishment. His skin was waxy and longing for hydration.
Allynae stood at the foot of the bed. “How do we do this? From the looks of the body, we need to be quick.”
Somay placed the jar between Nissasa’s ankles and moved to the head of the bed. He taught the rhyme of release and re-entry and then gave simple instructions. “Do not touch the body. We are here to witness not to participate. Should one of us touch him before his is fully back, it could destroy his ability to return to wholeness. TheLise, remove the lid.”
She
broke the seal, set the charnockite lid aside, and stepped away from the bed. Together they began to chant:
“The goal is to this man, make whole,
Quintessence ignite Nissasa’s soul,
Rejoin, remake, replenish, retether,
Essence and body, merge back together.”
A translucent gray mist poured over the lip of the jar and rolled in waves over the length and breadth of the body. As it reached the head, the chest rose, the lips yawned wide, and the mist began to flow up nostrils and into the gapping mouth.
The door flew open. Roween Rattori marched straight to the bed and threw herself across her son’s body, dispersing the remaining mist. She glared up at Somay. “How dare you touch my son without my permission!”
Nissasa’s eyes flew open. His maddened gaze fixed on his mother. Grabbing her arms, he shoved her to her knees and sat up. Wild eyes found the jar. Scrambling to the foot of the bed, he gathered it in his arms and began to rock, back and forth and back and forth.
Somay stepped into his line of vision. “Nissasa, look at me.”
Cold blue eyes blinked.
“If you try to retrieve Souvitrico, you will sustain permanent damage to your hand.”
Roween shoved him aside. “You lie. You want the crystal for yourself.” She plunged a hand in the jar. A DerTah shattering scream pierced the air. Tears spilled down her face. A choked sob ended as Somay caught and supported her limp body.
Nissasa grew deathly still and stared at his mother with bewildered alarm. Allynae removed the jar from his shaking arms and knelt beside Roween as Somay lowered her to the floor. TheLise pulled her hand free and released it with a gasp of horror.
Shock silenced everyone in the room. Flames licked the surface of the fingers and palm of Roween’s right hand. A web of sizzling red traveled the surface midway up her arm, turning the flesh to black. While they watched, the fingers withered, leaving only blackened bones.
The UnFolding Collection Three Page 38
