“Do you remember where you are?”
“No.” She touched her belly. Memories, some vivid, some vague, flooded the present with a series of impressions. Confusion faded. “I’m in the Protariflee Center. Is it done?”
“It is. You now carry the legacy of our people in your womb.”
“And Ta—”
The woman shook her head. “No names. She’s recovering,”
A warm hand rested on Jaradee’s forehead. Sleep tugged her lids shut.
When she woke for the second time, she stared at the pristine white ceiling and rested a shaking hand on her belly. How long have I been sleeping? The thirst pawing her throat suggested a long time. She pushed herself to sitting, reached for the glass by the bed, and lifted her mask. The first sip, cool and sweet in her stale mouth, left her licking her lips. Taking a gulp, she swished it around her mouth and swallowed. A knock warned her to cover her face.
A woman entered the room, checked her vitals, asked if she was hungry, and departed. A second woman marched in and took her for a walk along the hall and back. The next several turnings passed in much the same way. Each turning Jaradee walked further, exercised longer, and felt stronger. The nausea she had been warned about remained mild, hitting in the morning and gone by afternoon. She had not seen Talarah, and no one had shared information about her friend’s condition.
Just when she thought the tempo of her life would never change, a masked face peeked around the edge of the door. A woman entered, closed it, drew a curtain over the observation window, and pulled off the mask.
Talarah’s smile brightened the room. “We made it, Jara!” The smile widened. “It won’t be long before we can leave the Center. Mylos has gone to fetch Floree. They’ll meet us at the cabin.” She sat on the edge of the bed, a protective hand on her belly. “How do you feel.”
Jaradee removed her mask and made a mental inventory. “Other than a touch of nausea, I feel good. You?”
Talarah tipped her head. “I feel…” Her head tilted the other way. “Good. Nervous. Excited. Scared. I almost lost one of the babies.” She stared into space and chewed on her lip. “They had to bring in a Pheet Adolan physician. He saved it.”
Jaradee felt a rush of alarm. “Does he know who you are? Will he give you away?”
“He thinks I’m a host mother for a wealthy family.” Her brows furrowed. “What concerns me is that he saw my face.”
“That’s not good, Tala. Does Kuparak know?”
The Vasrosi leader strode into the room and set a large bag on the bed. “I do know. That’s why we’re leaving the Center tonight.” He indicated the bag. “You’ll find clothes and necessities for the journey in there. I’ll be back for you at dusk. Keep your masks handy and don’t leave this room. Get as much rest as you can. We have a long trek ahead of us.”
Before either could speak, he pulled the door shut behind him. A short time later, a soft knock and a feminine voice asking to come in sent them hurrying to don their masks.
Jaradee clasped Talarah’s hand. “Come in.”
An attendant entered the room and waited for the door to close. “You are safe for the moment, but the longer you stay here, the more danger we will all be in. I’ll help you dress.”
She rummaged in the bag and pulled out the full-legged pants and tunics worn by slaves in the Rompeerial households. Matching shoes and long scarves appeared next. The attendant looked up. “Don’t just stand there. We have little time.”
Jaradee scrambled from her clinic gown into a pair of rust-colored pants and a dark brown tunic. She crammed her feet into shoes a good size too small and winced.
Talarah held out her shoes. “I think these will fit you better. Give me those.”
While they finished dressing, the attendant shoved their few personal belongings into the bag. Shaking out a scarf, she held it up. “Let me show you how to wrap your scarves.” A flick of her wrist and the rust-colored fabric settled around her shoulders. Seconds later, the scarf hid her hair and her face. She whipped it off and handed to Jaradee. “Crack the door open when you’re ready, and I’ll make sure you’re presentable.” Clutching the bag, she left.
Talarah blew out a breath and pulled off her mask. “I think she’s scared.”
“Wouldn’t you be if you were harboring fugitives right under the nose of the enemy?” Jaradee walked to the mirror in the small personal space, grimaced, and tugged at her failed attempt to tie the scarf. “Can you help me?” She handed her the fabric. “By the way, thanks for trading shoes. I could almost feel new blisters forming.”
Talarah took the long piece of cloth and shook it out. “Glad they fit.” With deft movements, she wound and tucked until a look of satisfaction suggested success.
Jaradee studied her reflection. “Looks great. Let me help you.”
A final pleat and tuck and she turned Talarah to face the mirror.
“Good work, Jara. I think we’re ready.”
Jaradee opened the door and ushered the waiting attendant into the room. A quick inspection brought an affirming nod.
“No one will know you are not what you seem. Remember to keep your eyes lowered when you are being addressed. Always bow when a conversation is finished. Remember never to turn your back on a Pheet Adolan male, no matter his station. Your escort waits for you. This way.”
She led them through a maze of corridors to the elevator in which they had arrived almost a moon cycle ago. “I wish you the best of luck. Stay safe. And please protect what you carry.” Pivoting, she hurried away.
The elevator doors whispered opened. Kuparak, wearing head gear that obscured his face and the uniform of a Rompeerial house slave, motioned them inside. A masked attendant pushed a button. The elevator shot upward. The doors opened. Kuparak ushered them into the annex.
Jaradee glanced at coiled hoses, shovels, and spades and swallowed the fear raising in her throat. They were no longer in their safe haven. A vague mental tug told her Karia waited close by. Beside her, Tala’s tension hit her in waves. Kuparak, removed the cloth covering his face, put a finger to his lips and preceded them into the coolness of the El Stroman night.
The garden path ended in the lot where a motor carriage waited. Kuparak helped them into the enclosed cab and took his place on the exterior bench seat beside the driver. The engine rumbled; the vehicle rolled along the drive to the road. After a short wait, the carriage merged into the chaos of early evening traffic.
Jaradee wished she knew what had been planned, where they were going, how they would be able to reach the cabin when they could not shift shape. A whistle in her head made her gasp. Talarah gripped her hand and lowered her head. A military vehicle lumbered by. The motor carriage turned a corner and stopped. Kuparak yanked open the door.
“Gotta move. Stay close to me.” He jogged down the dreary lane.
Grabbing Talarah’s hand, Jaradee matched his pace. The lane ended opposite a rotavele station at the lip of the mesa. A dim light illuminated the enclosed platform. A one-person guard house stood off to the side.
A shout boomed. Running feet pounded their direction. Kuparak nudged the women ahead of him into a small eateria smelling of dirty Humans and frying fat. They found a corner table near the kitchen. Jaradee and Talarah sat with their backs to the room. Kuparak took a shadowed seat, providing him an unobstructed view of the eatery door.
A Pheet Adolan boy younger than Daar tossed a single sheet of grimy paper on the table. “Ya need anything to drink?”
Kuparak kept his head lowered over the menu and spoke in Pheet Adolan. “We will order drinks with our meal.”
The boy shrugged and maneuvered his way to a bar through the closely packed tables.
Talarah’s gaze flitted from the boy’s retreating back to her brother’s face. “What if they search in here?”
Her worried undertone brought only a minute shake of Kuparak’s head.
A tingled warning shot up Jaradee’s spine. She gripped the edge of the table and mo
uthed the word SorTechory.
He nodded, placed the menu face down on the table, and tapped the back.
Jaradee squinted at the barely readable scrawl. “Help is close. Stay put.”
Talarah slid it closer to Kuparak. “Do we trust it?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Crumpling the paper into a ball, Kuparak shoved it into a pocket, waved the boy over, and ordered the night special. At the bar, a man guffawed. Another threw a punch. The eateria erupted in a brawl. Kuparak launched to his feet, grabbed Talarah, and eased her ahead of him through the exit. A hand on Jaradee’s shoulder kept her in her seat. A quick glance gave her a glimpse of a scar-bisected brow above a blue eye.
Mylos sat beside her. “I’ll tell you when to go. Leave by the kitchen exit. Don’t look back. Keep moving. If we get separated, hide in the alley.”
He blocked an airborne chair and sent it crashing to the ground. A man followed, landed in the midst of broken pieces, and lay still. A siren screamed its approach.
Pulling Jaradee to her feet, Mylos urged her toward the kitchen. Inside, a chaos of bodies and spilled food pulled her up short. A hand on her elbow guided her through the mayhem and out the exit into a spider web of alleys and narrow streets lined with commercial buildings. When they finally stopped to rest, she wrapped her arms around herself, gulped in air, and prayed she had not put her pregnancy at risk.
As her breathing normalized, she took stock of her surroundings. A slight wind rustled through bushes and trees. Clouds roiled overhead. The waning moon made periodic appearances, highlighting a second rotavele station. Several Rompeerial soldiers clustered near the guardhouse. A single guard joined the group, seemed to listen, shook his head, nodded, and returned to his station. Soldiers spread out and began a search of the area.
Sheltered in a dingy, unlit doorway, Jaradee peered over Mylos’ shoulder. When nothing was discovered, the soldiers reassembled and marched in the direction of town. She started to move. Mylos pressed her further into the shadows and continued to observe the guard house.
A man detached himself from a portico a short distance away and sprinted to a patch of bushes near the rotavele. The clouds parted. Moonlight illuminated the night. The guard, framed in the arched opening, scanned the deserted platform, stepped into the open, and made his way along the walkway bordering the rim of the mesa.
Clouds once more shrouded the moon. Darkness enclosed the world. A muffled cry cut short by silence echoed in Jaradee’s mind.
Mylos gripped her arm. A rush of adrenaline left her shaking. Her heart slammed her breast bone. Every nerve in her body screamed run. Jaradee glanced at Mylos. He shook his head. Digging her nails into her palms, she held herself motionless.
13
Jaradee’s Legacy
Part 1 - Birth
A gust stirred the bushes, expelling the lone figure of a man. The cry of a galee dispersed on the wind. A gray-black bird landed on the man’s upraised arm. The lithe figure of a woman joined them.
Mylos released Jaradee’s arm. “Let’s go.” He trotted toward the guardhouse.
Gathering her flagging energy, she jogged after him and fell in step beside Talarah about halfway to the platform. Mylos motioned them ahead. The sounds of armored horses racing along the road propelled them faster. Kuparak helped them onto the rotavele platform.
Overhead, pewter-colored clouds churned. Large rain drops pelted the metal roof. Kuparak pulled Mylos aboard, slammed the accordianed metal door shut, and pushed several buttons on the control panel. A band of horsemen rode into the open lot and reined to a halt. The rotavele lurched and began its descent. Thunder rumbled. Armor clattered. A bolt of lightning ripped through the clouds. Torrents of rain plummeted, drenching everything in sight.
Jaradee huddled next to Talarah in the shelter of the cage, her attention riveted upward. “Thanks goodness for Squal.”
Mylos peered through the metal gating. “Squal?”
She managed a smiled. “A Maelstrom we met along the way.”
More lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the storm move away.
His scarred brow raised. “A Maelstrom. What do you know?”
Kuparak shot him a quick glance. “Did Floree make it?”
“By now she’s at the cabin.” Mylos fixed his attention on the valley floor. “Toa alerted my tukoolo you were in danger. Floree knew the way to the cabin so we split up, and I came here.” His spine tensed. “I don’t see anything moving below, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have company. What’s the plan?”
“Toa tells me the area is deserted, but three riders are closing in. You take the women. Toa and I will create a distraction if needed. We’ll meet up at the cabin. Stick to the creek-bed if you can. Wade upstream to the broken pine before you angle inland.”
The pulley system brought rotavele to a stop. Muffled pounding of horses’ hooves announced the eminent arrival of trouble. Mylos hustled Jaradee and Talarah into the trees and gave them a moment to adjust to the darkness. A quick over-the-shoulder glance showed Jaradee the muted shapes of two galees lifting into flight.
Mylos hurried Talarah to the center of the gurgling creek and motioned Jaradee to follow. Cold water sloshed around her ankles, soaked her full-legged pants up to her calves, and left her shivering. Yanking off her scarf, she wrapped it around her shoulders, and slogged upstream after Mylos. A blue-lipped Talarah struggled to keep up.
Jaradee stopped. “Are you alright?”
Her friend cringed. “Too cold. Cramping.”
Fashioning Talarah’s scarf into a shawl, Jaradee draped it over her shoulders and put an arm around her waist. Occasional bursts of moonlight illuminated the way as she guided her around big rocks and away from low hanging branches. Blood coloring the water crimson brought them to a standstill.
Karia landed on Jaradee’s shoulder and gave a sharp whistle.
Mylos splashed back to their side. “We can’t stop.” He scooped Talarah up and trudged onward.
Karia launched domeward. Mental images formed in Jaradee’s mind. The soldiers had left their horses on the bank and closed the gap, one long stride at a time.
Jaradee pushed herself faster. Images blurred and steadied. The last soldier in line dropped from sight. Kuparak took his place. The point man rounded a bend. Kup dragged the second soldier soundlessly into the forest. The leader paused to look back. Cursing under his breath, he retraced his steps. A shadowy shape lunged from the trees, hit him on the back of the head, and watched him fall face first in the creek. The figure knelt by his unconscious body and held his head under the water.
Jaradee shook the image from her head. For the first time, she realized Kuparak was what her people called an Animilero, a man trained to protect and to kill. Their deep love of all things living did not distract from the fact that, when necessary, the Animilero would not hesitate to take a life, animal or Human.
A misstep landed her on one knee in the watery coldness. Soaked and frustrated, she heaved herself to standing. A strong, black hand steadied her.
The Vasrosi leader regarded her from a face devoid of expression. “Climb onto my back. I will carry you.” He knelt. She wrapped her arms around his neck and straddled his waist. Traversing the stream to the far side, he plodded after Mylos’ dim figure.
The warmth of Kuparak’s body seeping into her chest provided Jaradee with a respite from the cold. Weather in this part of El SyrTundi, arid and hot during the turning, cooled rapidly after the sun set. The approach of dawn spawned the turning’s coldest temperatures. The dome overhead had begun to lose its austere darkness. Hints of salmon and gold heralded morning’s imminent arrival.
Untiring, Kuparak waded upstream. Mylos climbed the bank and carried Talarah into the trees. When Jaradee and Kuparak arrived, Tala lay pale and silent on the forest floor.
Her brother knelt beside her and placed a hand on her forehead. His worried gaze scrutinized the blood-soaked pants. “Tala, open your eyes.”
&n
bsp; Dark lashes fluttered. A tongue slid along still blue lips. Tears leaked from over-bright eyes. “I lost the babies.”
Kuparak kissed his sister’s cheek. “We’ll get you to the cabin. Floree is there. She’ll know what to do.” He picked her up and cradled her next to his chest. “Don’t give up, Tala.” Making his way between stocky-trunked tundi pines and angular perjunis, he forged ahead.
Jaradee stumbled after, hands pressed over her belly. Dread clouded her excitement about her babies. Floree will know what to do.
Mylos appeared at her side. “Almost there. Can you make it, or do you need a lift?” A smile softened his rugged features.
“How far is ‘almost there’?”
“As the tukoolo flies not far. Dodging trees will add a bit.”
“I’ll be fine.” Rolling her shoulders back and stretching her neck one way and then the other, she forced herself to relax and continue. Her goal, to make it with both embryos still in utero, seemed almost within reach.
The sun sent shafts of light between trees, highlighting patches of moss; glowing through lacy, witch-hair lichen; and scattering shade into sharp-edged pieces that reassembled in the shifting light. Kuparak and Talarah had disappeared up the faint animal trail. Mylos had shifted to his hawk form and flown domeward with ReRe at his side. Jaradee placed one foot in front of the other, yearning for rest and for water. She licked the salt of dried sweat from her lips and stepped around the mangled limbs of a perjunis conifer. Kuparak strode to meet her, lifted her in muscled arms, and carried her the last stretch to the cabin. Shouldering the door open, he ducked inside, lowered her onto a chair by the table, and placed a mug of spring water in front of her.
When the heaviness of fatigue held her motionless, Kuparak picked up the mug and pressed it into her hands. Her fingers encircled it and raised it to her lips. Fresh coolness slapped her tongue and left her gasping. A second mouthful washed the dryness of the journey away with her fatigue. She sighed and placed the mug on the table.
The UnFolding Collection Three Page 75
