Sol and Jordan looked at one another as the crowd began to break up. "Did you know?" Jordan asked.
Sol shook his head. "I knew he wasn't well, but I didn't know the extent of it."
"Why do his eyes glow?"
"I have no idea." Sol chewed his cheek thoughtfully. "Come on. Let's go find Toth. He'll want to do a debrief, and it's not going to be pretty."
They took to the air only to be sent staggering back when a collection of marbles clustered in front of their faces and spelled the question, ‘Jordan Kacy?’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When Jordan landed and saw the state of the terrace and the kitchen, her heart felt as though it was going to explode from her chest in fear. When she saw the smeared blood trail leading from the bedroom to the terrace, she screamed for the Elf.
Eohne came barrelling out of the bedroom to grip Jordan by the shoulders. "It's alright, it's alright!" She said, her fingers gripping Jordan's bones tightly. "It's harpy blood. We're okay. Come." She grabbed Jordan's hand and yanked her through to the bedroom, skidding on the blood. "Where's Sol? Is he okay?"
"Yes, he's okay. He went to the debriefing. Ow, Eohne," Jordan's neck creaked at the abuse. Her whole body was beginning to stiffen up.
"World War II Winston Churchill matchbox holder," said Allan.
Jordan froze.
"Dad," she whispered, eyes stretched wide.
"World War I eight-centimeter memorial death plaque," Allan replied.
"Dad?!" Jordan flew to his side, repeating the call three more times when he didn't respond.
"I tried to talk to him,” said Eohne. “He just––"
"World War II British medical bags."
"Keeps on like that," she finished, perturbed. "Does it mean anything to you?"
"World War II metropolitan whistle, nineteen-thirty-nine to nineteen-forty-five."
Jordan held her breath, her mind racing, her eyes roaming the terrain of her father's face. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention.
"He's listing inventory."
"He's doing what?" Eohne put a hand on Jordan's arm and squeezed, desperate to understand.
Jordan looked up at the Elf, her face alight with hope. "Allan loves history, particularly war history. He collects memorabilia from the two World Wars we had on Earth in the twentieth century. Keeps his finds in a room upstairs in our house. They're his favorite things."
"World War II child's evacuee tag," Allan's voice droned on in the background.
"He's amassed a huge collection by now." Jordan looked back at her father, not sure how she was supposed to feel. Is it a good sign that he’s at least speaking? "He's listing his inventory," she stated again.
"Oh," Eohne blinked, not sure what to think of this.
"World War II Nazi German era block four original stamps," said Allan.
The Elf and the Arpak listened for several seconds.
Jordan looked up. "This is good, right? It's a sign of improvement?"
Eohne pulled a stool over to the bed and sat near Allan's head. "Well, the part of his brain that knows his own possessions is certainly intact. I can't believe how specific he is being." The Elf took Allan's hand, but she kept her eyes on Jordan, her lips parted.
"What? What are you thinking?"
"It's just an idea; it might not work." Eohne clasped Jordan's fingers with her other hand, squeezing. The three of them were now linked.
"Anything is worth a try. We already agreed on that." Jordan squeezed her friend’s hand in return and tried to temper the excitement rising inside her. "What's your idea?"
"Could you get one or two of these artifacts, and bring them here? There might be something I can do with them, something that could help him."
Jordan straightened, her eyes widening. "With your magic?"
Eohne nodded. "There is something about these items that has brought Allan partially back. Maybe having something of his here, something from this collection, would help bring him the rest of the way."
"It's a great idea, Eohne. I'll find a way to do it." Jordan's mind was racing, and it raced all the way back to Sohne and the Elves of Charra-Rae. Did Sohne know this, or something like this, would happen? Is this why she made me promise to go back to her when I needed my wings again? Going back to Earth would mean Jordan would lose her wings; she'd be in the same predicament that Sol had been in when they first met.
"Sohne knew," murmured Eohne quietly, as though reading Jordan's mind. "She said she couldn't see Allan, but she knew that something would make you go home. This was it." Eohne looked at Jordan. "But don't use your locket. It's too dangerous."
"I don't have the locket anymore, but you sound just like Sol," Jordan said with a laugh.
"How does she sound like me?" Sol's voice made them turn as he strode into the room, his wings just closing up.
"You look like hell," Eohne said, giving Sol a hug. "And you smell worse than I do."
"Thanks. What happened here?" The Arpak gestured at the floor and toward the door, where much of his kitchen and terrace lay in ruins. He seemed remarkably calm, to his credit.
"Hurricane World War II collectible pocket watch and fob," said Allan.
"Whoa," Sol sped to Allan's side. "He's awake?"
Jordan shook her head. "Not quite. He's listing inventory from his collection of war memorabilia back home."
Sol listened as Allan listed off more items, the wreckage of his apartment forgotten for the time being.
"What do you make of it?" He crouched so he could look up at the women.
Eohne and Jordan filled Sol in on Eohne's suggestion. At first, Sol glowered at the idea of Jordan passing through a portal again; his concern eased when he was told that Jordan would go to Sohne and ask for her help.
"She knew something like this would happen." Sol shook his head with wonder. "Your promise will be fulfilled."
"There might be a small glitch," Eohne said, holding up a finger. "Sohne made you promise to go back to her when you needed to regrow your wings, but you actually need to go see her before you even leave. You need to be pre-emptive."
Sol was nodding in agreement. "She can help you pass through a portal safely. Maybe she can even give you some magic that you can stash somewhere, so it'll be waiting for you right when you get back."
Eohne nodded. "She can do this."
"When do we leave?" Sol asked Jordan, standing straight, his knees popping.
"We?"
"You don't think I'm letting you portal-hop alone, do you?"
"What about your work?"
"I'll put in for leave," Sol said simply.
Jordan blinked at him. Sol had been serious about his job since the day they'd met. It had seemed like nothing would ever take priority above his role as courier. Now he was going to take time off? For her? Jordan's heart melted, and she didn't know what to say.
Jordan's shocked expression made Sol shift uncomfortably. "I love my father," he explained softly. "I would be frantic to help him, were I in your shoes. I'm not going to let you fly back to Charra-Rae on your own; The Conca is dangerous enough, but now, even Rodanian skies are not safe."
"That settles it, then. You should leave as soon as Sol secures his leave." Eohne got up. "It's time to hydrate and feed him." She left the bedroom, and they could hear her rattling around in the kitchen, preparing the vegetables Toth had provided for Allan's nutrition.
Jordan and Sol fell silent, listening to Allan drone on with his inventory. It seemed as though he would never come to the end of it.
"He sure has a lot of stuff," Sol said, taking Jordan's hand and moving to the stool Eohne had vacated. "I wonder if he'll just start over when he gets to the end of it."
Jordan nodded. "Probably."
"British WWI Lewis Aircraft Gun Modified for WWII Home Guard with 97 Round Drum Magazine," Allan said in his monotone voice.
Sol blinked at Allan and laughed. "He has a machine gun? We could use about two dozen of those right now."
"Educated, remember?" Sol jabbed his thumbs at his own chest.
Jordan's lips parted. "Machine gun," she echoed. She grabbed Sol's forearm. "Sol, listen. That day you went to see the bureaucrat––"
"Belshar? Oh! I still have to check on him. There just hasn't been time. There's still some issue with the medicine that Juer needs…"
Jordan nodded. "Yes, him. I walked through the Crypsis market while I waited for you that day, and I met the most amazing Nycht. She's a brilliant engineer. She specializes in reverse engineering artifacts from Earth." Jordan's words were speeding up. The more she thought about her idea, the more she liked it. "We do have a machine gun; it doesn't work anymore, but Arth—–that's the Nycht’s name—–could reverse engineer it."
"How long would that take?"
"I don't know, but isn't it better to get it in motion now? You heard that Nycht yelling at Konig; he's not doing enough, he doesn't even seem to care. We have to do something. I don't see why this wouldn't work. We just have to figure out a way to get it back here so Arth can take it apart. We already have to go back to Earth…why not bring it back with us, somehow?"
"I don't think it's that simple, Jordan. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea, but it sounds pretty tricky. The gun is heavy, no?"
"Yes, but,” Jordan was thinking ahead, "maybe Sohne could help? We can ask her, along with the rest of what we need."
Sol was nodding. "Can't hurt to ask. Arth would need time to build it, to make molds. One gun might hardly be worth the trouble, but many guns…" Sol was talking it through more to himself now, the idea taking on life as he ran through some logistics in his brain. "What about the bullets?"
"Arth could build molds for those, too, using the dimensions of the magazine that holds them."
"How big is this gun? Could a single Strix operate it?"
"Not while flying, it's too big for that." Jordan began to pace. "It was made to shoot from a plane; it would probably need two people to operate it safely, one aiming and shooting and the other standing by with bullets. We could fasten them to the highest towers––"
"What about gunpowder?"
"Gunpowder," echoed Allan.
Jordan and Sol whirled to face Allan, their faces lit with expectation.
"Dad?" Jordan flew to the bedside and went to her knees. "Can you hear us, Dad?"
"Fifteen percent charcoal," was Allan's response. "Seventy-five percent saltpeter. Ten percent sulfur." Allan took a long, slow breath and continued listing inventory.
"Allan?" Jordan grabbed his forearm and squeezed, but her father only listed more artifacts.
"Must have been a coincidence," murmured Sol, putting a hand on Jordan's shoulder.
"I don't believe in coincidences," Jordan shook her head. "He heard us. He just gave us the recipe for gunpowder. It's like he knows we're here, and he's trying to communicate with us."
Eohne returned holding a glass of green liquid. She set the glass on the top of the headboard and peeled back the blankets covering Allan's stomach. She lifted his shirt, exposing his ribs and belly.
"Doesn't he make any waste?" Sol asked matter-of-factly.
Eohne shook her head. "The gel I use on him helps him to absorb everything, so there is no waste. Maybe if I overfed him there might be, but––" she shrugged as she coated Allan's skin with the gel. "He seems to use everything up. Thankfully."
Jordan poured the green juice slowly onto Allan's skin, and they all watched as it disappeared, vanishing into his internal organs. The feeding didn't interrupt Allan's listing of items; he went right on without stopping.
"Did I hear something about gunpowder?" Eohne asked.
Sol caught Eohne up while Jordan replaced Allan's shirt and the covers, setting his hands over top of the blankets.
It was decided that they would ask Sohne for some magic to help get the machine gun through the portal, along with the magic for Jordan's and Sol's wings, and safe portal-passage back and forth.
"This is going to cost a fortune," said Eohne. "You're asking a lot from her. I'm confident she can do it all, but she won't do it for nothing."
"I have money," Jordan and Sol said at the same time, then looked at one another.
"You have money?" Sol arched a single brow and canted his head skeptically. "Since when?"
"Since we'll be going back to Virginia. My father has a small gold stash, and I can buy more. I can also withdraw funds from our family accounts. It will take a bit of time, and it'll probably alert the police, but I may as well deal with it while I'm home." She looked at her dad and chewed her lip. "I wonder if I should send a letter to my dad's lawyers, letting them know we're alive. Our family has money and property."
"What would you say to them?"
"I don't know yet, but I'll think about it. If my dad is gone for long enough, seven years or something like that, they might declare death in absentia, in which case his estate would fall legally to me. But I'm likely to be declared dead eventually, too, and there are no more Kacys after me."
"What would happen to your father's estate then?"
"I don't know. It might go to the government."
It was strange to be thinking about the legalities of Earth. Jordan hadn't been living on Oriceran very long, but already she felt like her citizenship on Earth was a thing of the past. She had to think through what living a life on Oriceran would mean for their property in Virginia. She gazed at her father, wondering how he was going to react to all of this when he woke up.
"We need to build in some time for you to deal with these things when we get back to Virginia," agreed Sol, breaking through Jordan's thought-cloud. "And what if you're seen? You would be detained."
Jordan frowned. Sol was right. They needed to be very careful in executing this plan; it was more complicated than just a portal-hop.
The three of them lapsed into meditative silence.
At some point, Jordan looked down at herself. She was still bloodstained and reeking of harpy. She looked up at Eohne and then over at Sol, realizing they were both just as filthy——their hair mussed, their clothes spattered with blood. The apartment was a disaster and featured a long streak of harpy blood running from the foot of Allan's bed to the terrace.
"Sol?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't suppose you've got a mop around here somewhere?"
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sol put in for his leave. A mere two days later, with Toth informed and permission given to pursue their far-fetched but optimistic plan, Blue, Jordan, and Sol left Rodania as the sun peeked over the horizon. With the sun and the wind at their backs, they flew high until they found thermals they could ride with little effort.
They landed for a break in Maticaw, where they ate the meal Jordan had made and then carried in one of Sol's old, worn satchels. He had picked up bread and cheese from the market on his way back from the courier's office, and Jordan had made sandwiches and sliced vegetables. Blue did his usual disappearing act before they even reached Maticaw, and tracked them down in a field above town. He came ambling across the grassy slope, his belly distended, and a very satisfied look in his reptilian eyes.
"I don't even want to know what you found to eat," said Jordan, throwing an arm over the dragon's withers as he curled up next to her. He was much longer than Jordan now. His tail wrapped around her hips as she sat in the grass with her wings stretched out behind her.
"Evidently a seabird." Sol plucked a stray feather from between Blue's lips.
"At least it wasn't someone's pet goat."
Blue lifted his head and gave Jordan a look.
"What?" Jordan brought her nose close to his snout. "Do you know the difference between wild game and livestock?" she teased him.
Blue's tongue snaked out and curled around Jordan's ear, and he pulled his tongue back in quickly, giving her a tug.
"I'll take that as a yes." She wiped the side of her head. "Oh." She sat up str
aighter.
"What?" Sol began to pack up the remnants of their lunch, and got to his feet.
"I just realized we'll have to leave Blue in Charra-Rae. He can't come to Virginia with us."
"I figured he would just head back to Rodania, the way he did before you went to Trevilsom. Right, Blue?"
Blue looked up as a bird with an exceptionally long neck winged by overhead, ignoring Sol.
"Why don't we see what Sohne says? Maybe she can make a portal straight into Rodania, so we won't have to fly all the way from Charra-Rae when we return." Jordan got to her feet. Blue flicked his tongue at her as if to complain that he'd only just sat down. "Come on, Blue. You know the way."
The threesome took to the air again, crossing over the lush forests and agricultural terrain that lay between Maticaw and The Conca. Jordan and Sol talked for a time, but soon fell silent and got to the business of speed. Their wings ate currents and spat miles out behind them. They passed over a district full of lakes—–small and large, clear and muddy. Jordan thought she'd never get sick of observing the world from the heights she could reach by wing.
"It must have been somewhere around here that you came through the portal," Jordan guessed above the sound of the wind.
But Sol shook his head. "I was in a dreesha forest much further south of here when I hit that tree." Sol became quiet and meditative for a time before speaking again. "I've been meaning to tell you something."
Jordan flew closer to Sol so she could hear him better. Blue was flying far below them, skimming along the top of a crystalline lake. She could see his scales glinting in the sunlight. "What?"
"I've wanted to say that I'm sorry."
Jordan couldn't have been more surprised if Sol had dropped out of the sky. "Sorry? For what? Sol, you've done so much for me, you have nothing to be sorry for."
"I do." He gave Jordan a sheepish look. "The day you and I met, I was so hard on you. I blamed you for my tumble through the portal and my dislocated arm, for the loss of my wings and for making me late."
"I can understand why. I didn't mean to; I didn't know the locket had magic in it. But when stuff happens, we look for someone to blame. It's okay. I get it."
Combatant: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Kacy Chronicles Book 3) Page 15
