by A. L. Knorr
Eohne walked to Jordan with the ceramic cup and handed it to her. "You won't need any after you have this."
"What is it?" Jordan took the cup and sniffed. She wrinkled her nose. "Smells like wet dog." She handed it back to Eohne.
"Yallawort." Eohne pushed the cup back at Jordan. "Drink. All of it. You'll need it."
Jordan took a cautious sip and shuddered. "Eurgh. That's vile."
"Drink," Eohne insisted again.
Jordan plugged her nose and threw back the rest of the nasty stuff. Her cheeks ballooned out and she looked at Eohne as she struggled to swallow. With a final gulp, her body shuddered with disgust. "I hope you realize how much this means I trust you," said Jordan, handing the cup back and looking up at the doe-eyed Elf. "After yesterday, trusting you is a miracle," she added, remembering the awful choking sensation from the evening before. "That pill was nas—"
Jordan blinked as a warm feeling spread through her organs and out into each limb. She felt like a thirsty plant taking in water–her fronds were perking up, her lifeless droopy stems were straightening and reaching for the sun. Her eyes widened. "Wow." She flexed her hands and made fists. She felt like they were so strong they could crack nuts. "Can I get some of that dog-water to go, please?”
Eohne gave Jordan a knowing smile and took the cup back to her little lab kitchen. "Your friend is awake," she said.
Jordan's head snapped to the Elf's face, her brows up. "Sol is awake?" She scrambled to her feet. "How is he?" She crammed her blouse down into her leggings and began lacing up her vest. "Have you seen him? Has he made a deal with Sohne for his wings yet? Can I see him?" She yanked Sol’s satchels over her head and pulled her frazzled hair out from underneath the straps. She jammed a hand through one wrist cuff and tried to do up the laces with one hand.
"Yes, you can see him." Eohne came over to Jordan. "Here, let me." She tightened the laces on Jordan's cuffs.
Jordan danced in place while Eohne finished up. She stepped into her sheath and shimmied it up over her hips as she headed out the door, tightening the straps and buckles at her hipbone.
Morning light beamed down through the canopy in shafts, illuminating the Charra-Rae network of pathways and organic wood constructions. The gnashwits were already at work in the treetops, harvesting fungus. Birds looped around in the canopy, filling the air with whistles and songs. Jordan barely noticed any of it as she made her way down through the hole in the earth and along the ledge to the pathway. Eohne followed mutely, watching as Jordan raked her fingers through her hair, trying to put it into some kind of order.
Jordan took the stone path to the clearing two steps at a time. On the bottom step, she looked up and halted. Her heart leapt into her throat. She didn't even feel Eohne come up and stop behind her. Sol was there.
He was standing outside the little hut he'd presumably spent the night in. He stood with his back to Jordan, speaking with Sohne. Jordan lost all power of movement and speech as her eyes took him in.
Enormous tawny wings with white, tan and brown markings arched high up over Sol's head. They were folded closed behind him and the bottom tips crossed each other just above Sol's ankles and curved outward to the side. If they had hung down straight, they would be dragging in the dirt. A shaft of sunlight illuminated his glossy feathers. Jordan realized in that moment that Sol was entirely different from Toth. She'd been expecting the same leathery wings as the mercenary, complete with the powerful hooked claw at the top joint. But Sol's wings were like eagle’s wings, thickly feathered and with a single joint.
Sohne's eyes found Jordan’s over Sol's shoulder and she said something to Sol. Sol turned his head and saw Jordan staring at him. His face broke into a grin and he turned fully into the clearing to face her.
Jordan stood rooted to the spot, her mouth dry as she took in her friend in his true form.
It took Sol a second to remember that Jordan was from Earth. She'd seen a Nycht, but she'd never seen an Arpak before. It explained why her eyes were so big right now.
Slowly, Sol spread his wings out wide, opening them out so she could see them.
Jordan's breath caught in her throat as Sol’s beautiful tawny wings stretched outward for so long she thought they'd never stop. The insides of his wings were a light tan color at the edges, fading to white. Jordan's eyes took in the scope of them, the tips of his outermost feathers reaching outward and up toward the canopy. Each wing was at least twice as long as Sol was tall, making his wingspan well over twenty-five feet. Jordan guessed it might be closer to thirty.
Sol waved his wings gently, the feathers swaying back and forth as if beckoning Jordan to come to him. In that moment, she suspected that every artist who had ever rendered an angel must have seen an Arpak, for that was exactly what he looked like—a rugged, powerful angel.
Sol's color had returned and he looked as though he'd never been injured, let alone on the edge of death. Sol folded his wings down again and watched Jordan approach. Her hair was bushy and stuck up in every direction, her vest had the laces done up in the wrong holes so that it sat crooked and bits of blouse bulged out at her waist. Her boots gaped around her calves, not yet done up and the laces of her blouse dangled down her chest, untied. He noticed she wore his satchels and that they were too big on her, dangling halfway down her thighs. Though there were dark smudges under her eyes, they were bright and her cheeks were flushed as she stopped in front of him. I’ve never seen anyone look more beautiful. He bit off the thought before it could go any further.
Jordan watched Sol's expression flash from happiness to something like admiration–then a gate slammed down and his expression went carefully blank. A confusion of emotion crashed through her as she watched his expression flicker from one to another as quickly as a fish flashing at the surface of a pond. Brushing all that aside, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.
Sol gave a surprised laugh and hugged her back.
"You're okay," said Jordan into his neck, his hair tickling her lips. She squeezed him hard, feeling the solidness of him, his warmth, the life and health coursing through him. She pulled back. "You're magnificent," she said, her face alight, her gaze flicking over his tawny wings and back to his face.
Sol's face flushed red as he let her go. "I don’t know about ‘magnificent,’ but I’m alive. Thanks to you," he said. He fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest to protect himself. The expression on Jordan's face skewered his heart like a kebab. He scrambled to stonewall against her authentic joy, her appeal. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He needed to get away from this human woman. He began to calculate in his head how quickly Sohne might be able to get Jordan back through a portal to Virginia, where she belonged.
"Did it cost you a lot?" Jordan asked, keeping her voice low and flicking her eyes to Sohne, where she stood a ways behind them, watching. Jordan took Sol’s two satchels off her body and handed them back to him.
"She took gold," Sol said, surprised. "Unusual for an Elf, but I'm glad." He shrugged and smiled.
"I'm afraid it won't be quite that easy for you," came Sohne's voice.
Jordan and Sol turned to face the redheaded Elf. Jordan felt that voice twang at her nerves again, playing them like a violin.
Sohne's eyes were on Jordan and her arms were crossed like she meant business. Her long, tapered fingers splayed over her forearm like a resting spider.
"What do you want in exchange for helping me to find my mother?" Jordan asked, bracing herself. She really had nothing to give but her labor. There was no way she would give up her locket.
But Sohne's elegant brows arched and her eyes widened with surprise. Her lips parted and she uncrossed her arms. "Your mother?"
"Yes." Jordan began to pull the locket out from under her blouse.
"You don't want your wings back, too?"
Jordan laughed. "Wings?" Her gaze flicked uneasily between Sohne and Sol and back again. "I'm no Strix. I'm just looking for my mother; Jaclyn. I'm fairly certain she's some
where here in Oriceran." Jordan stopped talking when she felt Eohne step up behind her.
"She doesn't know," said Eohne to Sohne. Jordan thought the dark-eyed Elf looked very serious.
"Know what?"
"Yes, ‘know what’?" Sol's voice was hard.
Eohne and Sohne shared a look. Eohne's lips parted and Sohne shook her head; the movement was almost imperceptible. Sohne held a hand out to Jordan. "Walk with me."
Sol opened his mouth to protest, but Sohne held her palm up, cutting him off.
Jordan fell in step beside Sohne. They moved away from Sol and Eohne, though Jordan could feel their eyes on her back.
Sohne's shoulder brushed Jordan’s. "Where are you from, Jordan? Answer truthfully."
Jordan felt Sohne's voice vibrate inside her; somehow stronger than before, even though the Elf had spoken quietly. "Richmond, Virginia," said Jordan.
"You were born there? On Earth?"
Jordan nodded.
"The ones who raised you, they are human?"
"Of course!"
Sohne's hand hooked the inside of Jordan's elbow. Her touch was gentle, soothing even. "My dear, you are an Arpak descendant."
The words rang through Jordan, echoing and repeating on a loop, searching for somewhere to purchase. She shook her head. "That's impossible."
Sohne's expression was as serious as Eohne's had been. "I don't know what you've been through, or why your parents never told you; I suppose it’s possible they don't know. But somewhere in your bloodline, there is Arpak. I am certain."
Jordan's pulse quickened. "How do you know?"
"All species have a frequency. The elves of Charra-Rae are masters of frequency. It's what all of our magic is based on." Sohne lowered her chin to emphasize her next words. "You vibrate like an Arpak." She nodded toward Sol. "Even stronger than he does."
Jordan's eyes found Sol. He was staring at the two of them, eyes narrowed. She turned back to Sohne. "My mother—" she began.
"Was she Arpak?"
"I didn't think so, but…" Things were starting to piece themselves together. Jaclyn had to be from Oriceran. "Can I have a minute?"
"Of course." Sohne stepped back. "Take all the time you need."
"Thanks." Jordan walked away from Sohne, away from Sol and Eohne, down a narrow path toward the river. She crouched on a rock and splashed cold water onto her face. She covered her eyes with her fingers, blocking out the foreign world of Charra-Rae. Could it be true? Jaclyn was an Arpak? Originally from Oriceran? Not an Earthling. Not even human. Jordan had been right, her mother was somewhere in Oriceran, but she was wrong about one critical fact. Jaclyn hadn't fallen accidentally through the portal in their backyard. Jaclyn had come back intentionally. If Sohne was right, Jaclyn had simply gone home.
CHAPTER TWENTY
"What's going on?" Sol demanded as Sohne returned to where he and Eohne were standing. "What did you tell her?"
"Only the truth," said Sohne. "She's Arpak."
Sol took a step back as though he'd taken a blow. "That's not possible." He ground the words out, like he was crushing a hard nut between his molars.
"It is," replied Sohne.
Sol itched to put his hands around the Elf's neck. He flexed his hands at his sides. "Why are you telling her lies?" He pointed to where Jordan was crouched at the river with her back to them. Goodness knew what torment she was going through right now. "That woman is human. She had no idea that Oriceran even existed when I met her. She needs to go back home to her family, not—"
"She's an Arpak descendant, Sol," replied Sohne. "I don't know how it happened, but it's true."
Sol gave her a dangerous look. "I don't know what kind of sick joke this is, but if you give a human girl Arpak wings—"
Sohne's sparkling laugh cut off his words, twanging through his insides. "I can't do that, Sol. All I can do is bring out what is already there. If it wasn't already written into her genetic code, I couldn't put it there just because I wanted to." She chuckled again, crossing her long pale arms. "Really, you flatter me."
Sol's eyes flashed to Jordan's back as she stood up. He watched her rake her hair back from her face and pull it into a side braid. Her movements were calm, methodical. She looked so at peace from the back that Sol feared she might have become unhinged. He opened his mouth to threaten Sohne again, but Jordan turned and began walking toward them. Her face was unreadable. He watched her approach and felt his heart thud with dread at every step she took. Jordan’s teal eyes were glacial. I’d give the mysterious letter in my satchel to know what she’s thinking right now. The treasonous thought was so unlike him that he shuddered.
The two Elves and the Arpak watched Jordan approach, finishing her braid. She looked at Sol first. "It explains my eyesight." Her voice was clear and strong.
Sol blinked, taking a minute to work out what she meant. It felt like it was years ago that she had first asked him why her eyesight would be so much better on Oriceran.
Jordan looked at the elven women. "My eyes were dreadful on Earth. I was blind as a bat without my glasses or contacts. As soon as I came through to Oriceran, they cleared up." She snapped her fingers. "Just like that." Her eyes found Sol’s again. "Now I know why."
There was something in Jordan's voice that gave Sol a chill. It had an edge that he'd never heard there before. Jordan was pissed. No, not just pissed. Livid. Sol felt his world tilt on its axis and all his plans for getting Jordan home as quickly as possible slid and fell off, tumbling into blackness.
Jordan levelled Sohne with a calculating look. Her jaw was set. "What do you want?"
"Jordan—" Sol began.
Jordan ignored him. "My wings. What do you want for them?" She placed her hands on her hips. "I don't have gold. And don't think you're going to gnashwit my brains." She pointed at the Elf and shook her finger. “You can forget that idea right now.”
Sohne gave a delighted laugh. "My dear, why would I ever want to do that to you? You're no criminal." She raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"
"Of course not," Jordan spluttered.
"Gnashwit?" Sol echoed.
"So? What do you want? Months of servitude?" Jordan went on.
The hair stood up on Sol's arms at the determination in Jordan's voice. He had no doubt she would give Sohne whatever she asked for and the thought terrified him.
"Just a promise," Sohne said. "That's all I want."
"Oh no," Sol put a hand over his forehead. "Jordan, don't do it. No matter what she wants, don't promise it. It's a bad idea."
Sohne raised her brows innocently at the Arpak. "Why would you say that?"
"What promise?" Jordan crossed her arms.
"I want you to promise that the next time you lose your wings, you'll come and see me. You won't go to any other Elves for help."
"Next time…" Jordan trailed off, confused. "There will be a next time?"
"I believe there will be," said Sohne.
They all waited for more information, but Sohne gave none. She was cryptic to a fault.
"Think about it, Jordan," Sol said. "You'll never see your dad again; not without losing your wings to do it. She knows you'll want to go back to Earth at some point. Probably soon."
Jordan chewed her lip. It doesn’t seem so bad. The promise is uncomplicated and seems to be in my interest.
"Done," Jordan said. "I promise that the next time I lose my wings, I'll come and see you. I won't go to any other Elves." She held out her hand.
A slow, glittering smile spread across Sohne's face as she took Jordan's hand and shook it. "Good. Then come with me and let's see about those wings."
Sol and Eohne watched them go. Eohne looked at the Arpak in front of her, the one with his eyes on Jordan's back. A line had formed between his brows. "You don't look happy," said Eohne. "Don't you want to see her inherit her true form?"
"It's not that," said Sol, his mouth set in a grim line. "It's just that I know what comes next."
***
"I believe the
re is a theory in your world," said Sohne as they walked through the grove to the same hut where Sol had lain near death. "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction."
"Yes," said Jordan, cautiously. Where is she going with this?
"Our magic has a similar law."
"I'm not sure I'm following."
They stopped at Sohne's healing hut and the Elf ducked inside. "Be back in a moment," came her voice from inside the hut. When she reappeared, she had a small fabric bag over her shoulder. "This way," Sohne said, leading Jordan to a narrow trail through the ferns.
"Where are we going?"
"Away from Sol."
"Why?"
"I don't want to be anywhere near him when the screaming starts."
Jordan stumbled and righted herself. "Screaming?"
"Like I was saying, our magic comes with a price."
"Then how is it magic?" Jordan cried, her skin growing clammy at the thought of the kind of pain that warranted screaming. "Isn't the very definition of magic the ability to make something happen that counters the laws of physics? No consequences?" She caught up to Sohne, the ferns whipping against her legs. The earth was soft and moist and covered in mulchy leaves and needles; their footsteps were silent. "You know, snap your fingers and make a cake, or throw some pink dust and conjure up a pair of wings."
"It's not that simple," replied Sohne. The trail widened and Jordan fell into step beside the Elf. "Some magic might be that way, but ours isn't."
"Right. It's based on frequency. You and Eohne both mentioned that, but what does that mean for me?"
Sohne shot Jordan a look. "It means we can give you your wings, but only by manifesting a dormant gene in your DNA. You already have the ability to grow wings." Sohne put out an arm to brush aside a cluster of vines. "We're going to force your body to do that at a much faster rate than it would by itself."
Jordan felt ice-chips fill her gut. "That sounds agonizing."
"It is," replied Sohne.
"How agonizing?"
"Unbearable, from what I understand. But that's why I brought this," she patted the bag on her shoulder.
