The unfolding collection.., p.67
The UnFolding Collection One, page 67
“Gone.”
“Mother?”
“Fast asleep. Let’s go.”
The journey to Myrrh that day had been uneventful. No PPP patrollers stopped them. In fact, no one noticed them at all. When they arrived at Mira’s cottage, Somay ran ahead. Davin remained near the portal amidst head high sunflowers, his gaze absorbing the beauty of the Guardian of Myrrh’s garden and the splendor of the Terces Wood, which surrounded it. “I love this place. It’s safe and fun. I’m so lucky to be here.”
He dashed through the open front door and down the hall. Somay sat on the couch with a gray kitten in his lap. Purring filled the room. Wonder lit his brother’s face.
“Hey, let me see it.” Davin grabbed the tiny body. The startled kitten hissed and raked its claws across the back of his hand. Pain blazed. Rage burst up from his belly. The room faded. All he could see was his father’s angry face. He brought his arm back. Not even Somay’s frantic yell stopped him. The kitten sailed across the room and hit the wall.
Mira appeared in the doorway as it fell to the floor, its tiny neck broken. Calm but firm, she had led him to the portal and banned him from ever returning to Myrrh. His arrival back in front of the mirror gateway infuriated him. A sharp kick had created a splintered circle that sent a crack careening diagonally over the surface. Hatred, anger, and loss filled him as he picked up a small shard of mirror and sliced his cheek. Smearing the crack with crimson, he swore that he would return someday to destroy the Guardian and her beloved Myrrh.
* * *
The bite of fingernails digging into his palms pulled him back to reality. He uncurled his fingers and stared at the crescent shaped imprints. Stooping, he scooped up a handful of red sand and let the heat soothe the pain. A determined mental push sent the memories scurrying to some hidden place.
The sand trickled between his fingers and back to the desert floor, the individual grains lost forever amongst the many. Brushing his hands together to dislodge any strays, he turned on his heels and entered LeCur, the fortress of Dreela Gidtuss, leader of Fero Finnero’s desert tribes. He had no intention of being only one of many, of getting lost in the masses. Today his revenge was at hand. Three of DerTah’s leaders had a contract for him, one that would take him back to Myrrh…one that would make him a very rich and powerful man.
* * *
The Dreelum gathered around a long table. Gidtuss lounged at the head, his athletic shortness bristling with energy. To one side, Omudi of the province of Geran Island sat with his back ramrod straight and his graying hair brushed neatly away from the chiseled lines of his face. Thaer of the Plains of DoOlb, who flanked Gidtuss on the other side, tugged at a tendril of greasy hair, stuck the tip in his mouth, and squinted to make his wandering eye focus.
The desert’s Dreela indicated a seat opposite him. “Welcome, Seyes. We are glad you have decided to join us.”
Briefly, Nomed contemplated the wisdom of collaborating with the likes of these three. His right eyebrow arched. Money and revenge…good enough reasons. He gave a slight nod and slide onto the proffered chair.
Again, Gidtuss took the lead. “We have discovered where the Evolsefil Crystal is hidden. Do you know of it?”
Nomed curled his fingers into fists beneath the table. Evolsefil… He flattened his palms against his thighs. “My understanding is that it is more powerful than any crystal in this solar system and perhaps this galaxy. Are you suggesting it’s on Myrrh?”
Thaer chortled. “We know it is, and we want it.”
Gidtuss and Omudi glared his direction. He turned red and wrapped a piece of hair around his tongue.
Omudi’s educated voice filled the room. “We are prepared to pay you enough to keep you in riches for the rest of your life when you bring it here to LeCur.”
Thaer launched his rotund body to standing and slapped the table with a beefy palm. “But first you must help rid DoOlb of the Spanilmen.” His expression dared the other men to repudiate his statement.
Gidtuss sighed. “Thaer, sit down. We haven’t forgotten your need for help.” He turned his back on the fuming Dreela and addressed Nomed. “The Spanilmen are preparing to move on Inev, DoOlb’s capital. If you would be willing to help, your DiMensioner’s power will tip the scale in his favor.”
Nomed studied the bland expression on the man’s face before shifting his gaze to Thaer’s round, red countenance. Dislike for the Dreela of DoOlb churned in his gut. He swallowed the sour taste of it. “I’ll do what I can.”
Thaer spit out the piece of hair he had been vigorously chewing and slumped back onto his chair. “I’ll take that as a promise,” he growled.
Assent in the form of a shrug shaped Nomed’s shoulders. I will do what I can do and no more.
The remainder of the meeting had been boring but necessary. Details for the trip to Myrrh and his return with Evolsefil were put in place. A deposit of gold seganui would be placed in a secret account in Geran. The remainder would be paid upon completion of the contract.
As they were finalizing distribution of funds, a young DoOlbian soldier barged into the meeting. The lack of discipline and blatant disregard for those present exemplified Thaer’s irresponsible leadership. His message galvanized DoOlb’s Dreela into action. Spanilmen were massacring farmers and destroying villages as they swept across the plain’s rich farmland in the direction of Inev. The meeting came to an end. Gidtuss left to mobilize his guard. Both armies would depart for the plains within the turning.
Nomed prepared to take flight in his chosen shifted form, the great horned owl. His plan—arrive ahead of the others and perhaps effect a change before they arrived. The sooner he was free to leave for Myrrh, the better. Wolloh, his mentor and confidant, did not know of this meeting, and Nomed meant to keep it that way.
For what seemed like an eternity, he pressed his owl wings against the heat of the DerTahan atmosphere. Why does anyone want to live in this hot, arid land? It certainly holds no appeal for me.
His owl eyes picked out the edge of the desert and the gradual shift to the Plains of DoOlb. Soon, he would land and stretch his Human legs.
A flurry of movement near the border caught his attention and sent him higher. Massive creatures of flame and fire, circled a spot of darkness on the desert floor. A distant screech penetrated the silence. The dissonance of the Fire ConDra’s cry stung his owl ears.
Curious… He swooped on soundless wings toward the gathered ConDra. Trapped within their circle, a writhing, opaque mass struggled to out maneuver its adversaries. Nomed disliked the odds. Dropping closer he spread his wing tips and hovered. The flailing figure turned its face upward, opened its mouth, and blew. Frigid air scattered the Fire ConDra, widening the circle around their prey.
The hideous mottled face of the creature grimaced as it crumbled beneath a blast of heat. With a howl it wrapped its bulk around itself and shot with rocket-like speed toward the plains. ConDra swooped after it. Lava tongues lashed out, leaving orange welts along its opaque sides.
Nomed followed, high enough to avoid the heat but close enough to follow the progress of the battle. The presence of the creature intrigued him. How had a death shadow been entrapped by Fire ConDra, and what was it doing in the desert? The battle on the Plains of DoOlb provided the answer. Where men gathered to kill, death shadows arrived to feast on their fear of death and dying.
Disinclined to become involved, Nomed soared upward leaving the spectacle behind. A chorused shriek of frustration made him circle back. The death shadow had reached the plains. Fire Condra lined the border, their flaming wings fanning the air. Formed by the heat of the desert, they could not exist without it. Crossing beyond the boundary would make the plains their funeral pyre.
Wounded and half destroyed, the death shadow clawed its way further into the plains. A trail of blue-black fluid marked its painstaking journey. Without help, it would expire by nightfall.
Nomed circled. A death shadow could prove useful in my search for the Evolsefil crystal and the destruction of Almiralyn and Myrrh. He streaked across the border and landed in Human form some distance from the wounded creature. Raising his arms, he sent lightning flashing toward the Fire ConDra. Yelping like whipped dogs, they dispersed and disappeared behind red desert dunes.
Nomed remained motionless, his gaze never leaving the wounded death shadow. The creature raised its head. Red, diamond-shaped pupils narrowed in white eyes. Drool slid from bluish lips. It moaned and dropped its head on an arm.
“You need help.” Nomed kept his voice low and even. “If you will allow me to come closer, I will see what I can do for you.”
The ugly head lifted. The eyes opened again. The pupils dilated until only a thin circle of white remained. A blue tongue licked blue lips. “Help me.” The words whispered across the space between them.
Walking slowly forward, Nomed continued to observe it, ready to defend himself against its power. He stopped a short distance away. “I will need to get you to shelter. First, let me put something on your wounds.” He raised a hand and muttered a few quiet words. A bottle appeared on his palm. He knelt beside the injured creature, uncorked it, and poured a slender line of clear liquid along the burned tracks made by the lava tongues. The death shadow pressed its lips together and squeezed its eyes closed. A shudder shook the opaqueness of the almost formless body.
“Lie still. I will return as soon as I find a safe place where you can rest.” Nomed moved away and shifted. Soaring upward on owl wings, he began a search of the surrounding bluffs. Here near the desert’s edge, the land was a parched patchwork of dry and cracking dirt. Not far ahead, rolling hills inched their way into plowed fields. Small groves of evergreen and alder marked the boundaries of farms and villages that were scattered to the east and south. It was early fall. The fields below bristled with the remains of dried plants in varying shades of brown and tan. Toward the west the land lay fertile and undisturbed. As he circled east in the direction of Inev, the signs of war began to take shape. The closer he flew to the capital city, the more devastation—villages pillaged, cottages burned to the ground, livestock slaughtered, Human bodies strewn like broken puppets in tangled mounds of tattered clothing and scorched flesh. No weapons were visible. Nomed felt sure the villagers were innocents who had been unprepared for the onslaught of the Spanilmen.
Banking back toward the desert boundary and the death shadow, he landed near a grove of scraggly trees and shifted. An inspection of the area netted him a hollow beneath a mound of rocky rubble that was hidden amongst fallen branches and long dead roots. The challenge would be how to move the creature. Nomed wished teleportation were one of his talents. Unfortunately, it was something he had not yet mastered. Shaping the great horned owl, he flew back the way he had come.
In a corral to one side of a charred barn, a boney, roan horse whinnied and pranced its panic. The owl descended and Nomed materialized. His sudden appearance sent a tremor of fear through the already frightened animal. Rearing, it pawed the air with white-socked hooves.
Moving with measured slowness, Nomed approached it, snorted softly, and tossed his dark hair with a horse-like shake of his head. The animal ceased its panicked motion. Its nostrils quivered. It, too, shook its head.
Nomed remained still. The animal took one tentative step and then another until it stood within inches of his out-stretched hand. Tossing its head, the horse whinnied and sniffed the air. Nomed moved to its side and ran a hand along its neck to the sway of its skinny back. “You could use some fattening up, my friend.”
The roan’s ears twitched. It pranced away and back again.
Nomed patted its protruding ribs as he glanced from the charred barn to the still smoking farmhouse. Half hidden behind an outbuilding that had escaped destruction, he saw the front end of a rickety wagon. With a gentle hand, he guided the roan to a patch of unburned grass. A cursory inspection of the ancient vehicle informed him it was usable. Ducking into the outbuilding, he scanned the dim interior. A smile pulled at his scarred cheek. All that was required to hitch the horse to the wagon hung from pegs along the rough-hewed wall.
Two long strides carried him across the dirt floor. He grabbed a halter and draped it over his arm. A startled exhale from the direction of a dark corner made him pause. He let his gaze travel casually around the space. A smothered gasp, a silence fraught with fear, and a slight shift of feet against earth told him much. He turned and peered into the darkness. “I am not a Spanilman. You can come out. I won’t hurt you.”
A pause, weighted by indecision, preceded the appearance of a boy perhaps ten sun cycles old. One eye had begun to swell. The beginnings of a bruise colored his cheek. His bottom lip oozed blood from a small gash. Hands fisted at his sides and the tension in his stance telegraphed his readiness to fight. “Who are you?” His chest heaved with swallowed fear.
Nomed studied the battered face. Anger, old and ugly, stirred in his gut. Memories of his father’s abuse left him momentarily stupefied. Forcing himself to focus, he said, “I am called Nomed. I’m sorry I arrived too late to help. Tell me what happened.”
The boy licked his lip, cringed, and touched it with a tentative finger. “There were so many men. Pa tried to warn us but…” A tear slipped from his eye. “Ma told me to hide my sister. When I wouldn’t tell the men where she was, one of them hit me. Ma screamed, ‘Hide’ and pushed me away. The man slapped her so hard she fell down and lay very still. I ran and hid.” A dirty finger dispatched another tear. “He threw her in a cage on the back of a wagon. Then they set fire to the house and the barn and left.”
Nomed thought of his mother, the only person who had ever really loved him. Anger reared its head again. He stared out a small crooked window above the boy’s head before returning his gaze to the damaged face. “I think it would be best if you came with me. Will you tell your sister she can come out of hiding?”
Wary eyes narrowed. “How do I know you won’t hurt her?”
“I promise I won’t—”
A trap door rattling in the floor of the shadowy corner cut Nomed’s answer short. The boy stiffened. Nomed grabbed a rusted metal ring and pulled the door open. A girl of about five sun cycles climbed into view. Beneath startling blue eyes, tanned cheeks streaked with tears and soot flanked a rosy mouth pressed into a determined but quivering line. Dirty blonde ringlets caught up in a filthy ribbon framed her face. She showed no fear. In fact, she showed no emotion whatsoever…just sidled closer to her brother.
Nomed touched his scar and shaped his mouth into a smile. “What’s your name?”
The boy put a protective arm around her shoulders. “This is Lea.” He waved an arm, indicating the land around them. “Her name means grasslands. I’m Vynn.”
“Well, Lea and Vynn, I’m Nomed. I believe we should be going. I don’t suppose there are any supplies that didn’t burn?”
Vynn pointed at the hole in the floor. “There’s a root cellar down there. Pa kept lots of stuff he said would help in an emergency.”
Nomed held out the halter. “Can you hitch the horse to the wagon while I see what I can find?”
Vynn took it and handed it to his sister. He lifted a collar from its peg. “Come on, Lea, you can help.”
“Vynn, stay by the wagon.” Nomed let a warning light his eyes.
The boy flinched and nodded. He led his sister out of the building.
A steep ladder took Nomed into the root cellar. He held up a hand. Golden light filled the space. Supplies lined the shelves and sat in stacks on the ground. A quick search netted dried food, woven blankets, a shovel, a hunting rifle, a box of cartridges, and candles. He filled two large baskets and lifted them through the trap door. He considered returning to the farm with the death shadow, but rejected the idea. The air was filled with the scent of death.
Outside, the roan horse stood between the wagon shafts, munching grass. Vynn finished buckling the girth and adjusted the collar. “He’s ready. Where’re ya taking us?”
Nomed put the supplies in the wagon and eyed the children. How to tell them about the death shadow? He lifted Lea onto the wagon seat and climbed aboard. Vynn scrambled up after him and squeezed in next to his sister. “What do you know about death shadows?”
Vynn shot him a frightened glance and scooted nearer to Lea. “Pa told me death shadows feed on fear. He said if I ever ran into one not to let it know if I’m afraid. ‘Give it a wide berth,’ he said. Why?”
“I rescued one. It’s hurt, and I intend to help it heal.”
“Why?” Vynn gave him an incredulous stare.
A slap of the reins sent the roan ambling along a rutted and bumpy track between two fields. “I have need of him. Can you keep you fear under control?”
“If you promise not to let it hurt us, we’ll be fine. But ya gotta promise.”
Lea looked from Vynn to Nomed. Her eyes grew even bigger. She grabbed her brother’s hand but didn’t speak.
“It won’t hurt you. Right now it doesn’t have the strength to hurt anyone.” The wagon rocked and rolled and creaked and moaned. “Does Lea talk?”
“Not a word since the men shot Pa.” Vynn squeezed her small hand and brushed a curl off her forehead. “But you’ll talk to me soon, won’t ya, Lea?”
She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. Vynn brushed it away and wrapped his arms around her.
The roan ambled on beneath the midday sun. The wagon creaked along. Nomed studied the landscape and let the children drift into sleep beside him. Vynn fought to keep his eyes open, but finally his chin dropped to his chest and his breathing steadied.
The sun had begun its descent to the far horizon by the time Nomed reined in the horse several yards from the mound of dirty white that was the death shadow. Vynn woke with a start as the wagon came to a halt. Lea nestled into the curve of her brother’s arm, her soft breath rustling the curls falling across her face.
Nomed handed the boy the reins and climbed down. “Stay here. I won’t be long.”
