With Trager trapped in the Plane of Deception, Forrorrois is suddenly faced with the kidnapping of their three-and-a-half year old daughter, Celeste. Uncertain who to trust, Forrorrois soon realizes that her only hope is a tenuous alliance with Collinar, her deadly enemy, recently escaped from a Dramudam rehabilitation center where he was serving time for violating the Isolation Treaty. As Forrorrois embarks on her search for Celeste, her earthbound adversary, U.S.A.F. General Samuel Caldwell, charges her family and friends as enemy combatants in an attempt to blackmail her into handing over her alien technology. Torn, Forrorrois must entrust Colonel Jack Stern with the protection of her parents and brother on Earth as she follows Collinar on a deadly journey of discovery that leads to the Plane of Deception, through the treacherous fringe societies of the Environs and the very chambers of the powerful Council of Elda, to save her daughter and Trager. But will Forrorrois' quest to make her family whole actually destroy them and serve as a wedge between the Dramudam and the Eldatek culture?

Auszug. � Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

FORRORROIS: Tears of Many Mothers

Book Four of the Forrorrois SeriesBy Suzanne Y. Snow

AuthorHouse

Copyright � 2011 Suzanne Y. Snow
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-4398-6

Chapter One

Trager walked through the ever-changing colored mist that made up the Plane of Deception. Exhaustion pulled on his shoulders as he reached out his chestnut-brown hand and waved an entrance into existence once he approached the bluish-black square enclosure that seemed oddly out of place in the mist. After four revolution trapped in this dimension, Trager no longer paused at its peculiar properties that allowed him to convert energy into matter at a thought. Inside, he found Guruma sitting at the table made of the same bluish-black metal as the exterior of the building. The entrance merged back into the wall behind him after he entered. Trager tried to smile, but his frustration won out as he approached the elder Dramudam founder. He studied Guruma's black almond-shaped eyes and wisdom-creased chestnut-brown face and knew that he could not hide his disappointment from his perceptive companion.

"Have a seat, Trager and join me for some mawya," Guruma requested.

Trager nodded and took a seat across from the Eldatek elder with a sigh. He didn't even react as Guruma waved his hand and produced two red stone mugs. Trager stared down at the mug and watched the steam curled up from the brim tempting his nostrils with the cleansing scent of mawya that he had routinely drank in the morning on Elda when he was young and later on the Tollon when he served with the Dramudam. Suddenly, his thoughts shifted back to Earth where Forrorrois had introduced him to a similar ya made with a blend of mint leaves and lemon. His heart grew heavier as he longed for his dear ashwan and young daughter. Guruma had pulled him into the Plane of Deception to save him when the ship he was flying was destroyed by an explosive planted by Collinar. Unfortunately, Guruma's act to save him also trapped him there with him, forever separating him from his family.

Absently, Trager conjured a small plate of lemon slices and squeezed the juice into his mug. Like Guruma, Trager had also become adept at using the energy-matter conversion talent. The Aethereals, who were the native beings of the dimension, could only draw sustenance from the mist but they were incapable of the more sophisticated energy-to-matter conversions that allowed Guruma and Trager to create the room around them—because of this, the creatures had branded them sorcerers.

Guruma shook his head and gave him a gentle smile when he offered him the plate of lemon slices.

"No luck again, this cycle?" Guruma asked, lightly tracing a finger on the handle of his red stone mug.

Trager brushed back a stray lock of silky black hair that had escaped from his traditional Dramudam single braid. "No. It's been nearly two mol since I've been able to contact Forrorrois. She and Celeste must be growing worried."

"I'm certain they are," Guruma agreed. "This lull in the energy level of this plane is becoming a concern."

Trager looked up at Guruma and studied his salt-n-pepper hair, also tied back in a single loose braid. He smiled at the fact that they both had continued to wear the traditional green and black uniforms worn by all master pilots of the Dramudam, clinging to them for some sort of normalcy. The room they sat in was a mirror of the quarters that Trager had once had on the Dramudam Peace ship Tollon where he had been a subcommander. That was, until Trager had become detached from the Tollon and joined with Forrorrois. Like their uniforms, Trager and Guruma's surroundings were an illusion to keep them from dwelling on the fact that they were trapped in the Plane of Deception without any hope of returning back to their own dimension.

"I'm concerned as well, Guruma," Trager replied, lifting the red stone mug to his nose and sniffed the light citrus scent. The scent calmed his nerves ever so slightly, enticing him to take a sip. He closed his eyes briefly as the warm liquid quenched his parched throat.

"I suspect that the energy drain is being caused from the Aethereals increased aggression against us and each other," Guruma stated. "The delicate balance was tipped when I brought you over into this dimension over four revolution ago. But there has also been an increase in their population. I saw this happen once before."

Trager leaned forward, surprised at the revelation. "Really?"

"Yes, shortly after I arrived here over a hundred revolution ago, there was a steep increase in the Aethereal birthrate which seemed to stress the population. A war broke out as several factions fought for power and resources. I suspect that this may be a way to regulate the population."

Trager considered Guruma's words. "If so, then we may need to relocate to another area to find foci with stronger energy levels."

"I agree, but we'll need to be extremely cautious in our search," Guruma replied. "The Aethereal continue to watch our every move. One careless moment ..." Guruma began then shrugged.

Trager shuddered at the constant unspoken threat. The Aethereal were adept hunters and would sooner kill both Guruma and himself with their razor-sharp claws than continue to suffer their presence any longer than they already had. "When you are ready, we can begin our search for a new location," Trager agreed.

"Good," Guruma said as he lifted his mug from the table. "Until then, I suggest that we limit our activities to try and conserve the energy we have remaining in this location."

Trager nodded. His thoughts wander briefly to Forrorrois and his daughter, Celeste, and wished that he could get them a message—but for now any contact would have to wait a bit longer.

* * *

Forrorrois sat in an overstuffed chair set in the living room of her base, reading the worn old Eldanese book that had belonged to Trager—her joined one. She missed him terribly, wishing he were there with her and their three-and-a half year old daughter Celeste. Her eyes closed tightly when the flash of the explosion which had taken him from her played in her mind for the millionth time—the explosion from the bomb planted by Collinar that had been meant for her—sending Trager forever into the Plane of Deception. Sometimes it's worse for two beings to be separated by centimeters than by kilometers, she thought as she fingered the delicate pages. Forrorrois cherished the fact that Trager had survived and visited them when he could focus enough energy to cross back into her world, except they could never touch without him vanishing from the effort. But for the past month, even his visits had stopped. A tear slid down her cheek, against her wishes, as she tried not to think about what could be preventing him from seeing her.

She returned her attention to the beautifully scripted book of the ancient legends of Elda. The Eldanese text had taken her several months to learn to read—even with the help of her zendra link with the computer. Each word was filled with nuance and intrigue, each sentence an onion to peel back in the tome's multiple layers of wisdom. Trager's culture was rich with subtle lessons, with no single word wasted. But all of the volume's insight was little comfort when she ached to be held by him once more—to feel his warm chestnut-brown hand against her face—to gaze into his deep black eyes and touch his long raven hair—to smile at the tickle of his mustache as they kissed. A book...

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