"You neglected to warn us of these side effects before we made the deal with you." Sol glared at the Elf.
"Would you have made a different decision?" Sohne shot the annoyed Arpak a mild look. "I told you I can do it, and I can. You'll make it through. But no magic is without some consequence."
Jordan let out a breath. "It's fine," she said to Sol, "I'll deal with whatever happens as best I can." She looked to Sohne. "Anything else?"
"That's it," said the Elf. "You can go anytime."
"And the promise?" Sol took the sack from Jordan and slung it over his body.
"You'll know when it comes due."
"Cryptic as ever," Sol muttered.
Jordan crouched in front of Blue, taking his reptilian face in her hands. "Sol and I have to go where you can't follow, buddy. Meet us in Rodania, okay?" Blue gave an unhappy whistle in the back of his throat.
Sohne watched the interaction with interest. "Has this animal imprinted on you?"
Jordan nodded and stood. "Yes, it happened in Maticaw. We were told he was a Predoian Miniature-–"
Sohne laughed and shook her head. "Obviously not."
"Do you know what he is?"
"No, but I can guarantee you he's no miniature. You know that your portal passage risks breaking the bond between you, right? You should brace yourself for that."
Jordan paled. "Excuse me?"
Sohne's expression was a hair’s breadth from an eyeroll. "What do you think? That a bond between the two of you can withstand inter-dimensional travel and just snap back into place when you return?" She shook her head. "That is incredibly naive. The bond may be magic-based; if it is, your leaving Oriceran will break it for sure. If it's just a regular bond between humanoid and animal, then it should be fine."
"How can we tell which it is?" Sol asked, clenching a fist.
Sohne gave an elegant shrug.
Jordan felt Sol's hand on her lower back as she struggled for words. Anger flooded through her.
"You knew I didn't know this was a risk. You knew I didn't grow up here, and don't know the laws of magic," Jordan accused. "Why did you wait until now to tell me?" She took a step forward, her teeth clenched. "You are one greedy, manipulative Elf. We never should have come to you!"
Sol put a restraining hand on her arm. "Jordan."
She turned away from the Elf, seething, trying to keep herself from spitting into her smug face. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, placing her cool palms against her hot cheeks. She looked down at Blue, who was watching her pace, and her eyes misted up.
Sol's voice was quiet in her ear. "You don't have to. We can think of something else."
"The unbreakable promise cannot be broken, even if you decide not to use the magic," Sohne interjected firmly. "The deal has been made. You owe me."
Jordan deliberately turned her back on the Elf and faced Sol. "We need to do this; my father and Rodania need us." She crouched before Blue, feeling frayed and emotional, and took his face in her hands. "I have to go. I hope you understand. Fly to Rodania; go home. We'll meet you there in a few days."
Blue cocked his head and blinked.
Jordan kissed his scaly cheek and stood, taking a shaky breath.
It had worked before; he'd understood when she, Eohne, and Toth had gone to Trevilsom without him.
But you weren't leaving Oriceran, a voice whispered. This is different.
She shook her head and turned to Sol. "Let’s go."
Sol held up her stolen feather. Jordan threw Sohne one last look of disgust and reached for it.
"One last thing."
Sohne's voice stayed Jordan's hand.
"What?" Jordan almost snarled the word.
"A message for Eohne." Sohne cocked her head. "She is looking in the wrong place. Remind her that our worst poisons are also our best medicines. It is simply a matter of dosage."
Jordan was unsure what to think of this piece of advice. It had to be about Allan; he was the only one in Eohne's life at the moment that was in need of medicine.
"She'll know what that means?" Sol asked, his voice hard.
Sohne nodded. "She'll know."
"Fine," Jordan snapped.
She grasped the feather between her fingertips. Charra-Rae dissolved, and the bone-grinding pressure of inter-dimensional travel began.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jordan had forgotten how disorienting portal travel was. The humming of electricity in her ears and the buzzing inside her joints brought it all back like a kick in the teeth. The pressure on her body was so tight and unforgiving she could hardly breathe. The near unbearable pressure was rapidly replaced by the whispering of thousands of voices. They filled her head like a hive of bees. She had no sight, no taste—–only sound. She flailed, trying to grasp Sol, but had no body with which to find him; it was as though she was alone in an endless universe of vibration.
A flash of bright daylight and familiar birdsong greeted her as she tumbled onto the damp earth, bruising her ribs on the roots of the oak.
"Ooof!"
All the air whooshed out of her lungs and a hot breath went past her ear as Sol’s heavy weight landed on her back, crushing her into the earth.
"Sorry, Jordan," Sol exhaled as he rolled off her. "Did I hurt you?"
She rolled onto her back, taking deep breaths and blinking up at the sky of the universe she was born in. "I'm fine," she wheezed.
"I'll never get used to that." Sol lay beside her panting. His arms flopped out, and his hand took hers. They rested a moment, letting the vertigo of the inter-dimensional travel pass.
Jordan got to her feet, head whirling. Her backyard was a green and blue blur. She reached out a hand for Sol and whacked him across the stomach.
"Sorry. I can't see very well. Were my eyes really this bad?" She blinked groggily at the fuzzy world and swayed unsteadily on her feet. "How did I ever survive?"
She caught the yellow blur of her feather transport as Sol tucked it into his clothing, ensuring she wouldn't accidentally touch it.
He took Jordan's hand and put an arm around her waist. "Watch your step, there are roots everywhere." He led Jordan across the treacherous terrain to where the lawn smoothed out. He kept her hand in his. "You lost your glasses when we went through the portal last time," he reminded her. "Have you got an extra pair in the house?"
"I have contacts in my bathroom upstairs. If you can help me get there, I'll be fine." Jordan felt so light and unencumbered now that she had no wings that her knees locked with every step. She paused. "I feel so weird."
"Give it a minute, it'll pass."
The two Arpaks made their way to the house only to find the back door locked. Jordan directed Sol to where a spare key was hidden under the deck, and they let themselves in. They headed up the grand staircase to Jordan's bedroom. Sol waited while she trundled blindly around the bathroom; putting in her contacts took her twice as long as it used to.
She breathed a sigh of relief as the world was once again made of crisp edges and clear detail. She blinked into the mirror as her vision cleared, and what she saw made her cringe. She looked tired, and droplets of moisture dampened her cheeks, as her red eyes wept from being probed. Her leather armor and Rodanian clothing and weaponry looked like a Halloween costume, yet she felt naked without her wings.
She left the bathroom, still blinking.
Sol was sitting on her bed. She couldn't help but stare at him. "I'd forgotten how different you look without your wings."
He smiled. "Yeah, you look weird to me now, too. I'm so used to you having those canary feathers behind you."
Jordan crossed to her closet and retrieved a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. "May as well be comfortable while we're here. I can't go downtown dressed like a D&D character." She turned back to Sol, eyeing his size. "And neither can you. I'll raid my dad's closet." Jordan felt grimy from all the travel, and she peered at her grubby fingertips. "Why don't you take a shower in my dad's room, and I'
ll grab one here? We can meet in the war-room. It’s up the next level, you can't miss it."
"Sounds like a plan. I'd love to clean up."
Jordan rummaged through her dad's walk-in closet for something that would fit Sol. She found a pair of light blue jeans with the tags still attached, a plain black t-shirt, a pair of briefs, and a pair of short socks.
Sol waited awkwardly outside the closet, eyeballing Allan's bedroom.
"Try these on." Jordan emerged from the closet with the set of clothes and a pair of white tennis shoes. "You and my dad are close to the same height; they might be a little snug, but they should do."
"What is this?" Sol held the boxer-briefs up with a look of dismay.
"Underwear. Earth guys seem to like them." Jordan laughed at the look on his face.
"Pass. They look a little restrictive." He put down the clothes and shoes and held the underwear out with both hands. "Humans really wear these?" He poked a finger through the y-front and shot Jordan a look of horror. "Is this for what I think it is?"
Jordan hid a smile behind her hand. Her face heated, and she turned for the door. "Come upstairs when you're done. Take your time."
Jordan showered and dressed, feeling a million times better. When she stepped out of her bathroom, she heard the shower in her father’s room still running.
Sol must be enjoying the luxury.
She searched the house for her cell phone, which she couldn't find anywhere. "Police must have taken it," she muttered, rummaging through drawers and combing every likely place. She had wanted to try calling Maria one more time, and also set up an appointment with her family’s banker. She settled for booting up the old Dell laptop in Allan's office. It would do nicely for searching and printing off anything helpful she could find about the Lewis gun.
Jordan's fingers trembled as they scrolled through her inbox, which was mostly full of useless newsletters. Her index finger hovered over an email from one of her old climbing buddies. It was titled 'Where Are You?!?!? The Joke Is OVER!"
Jordan's heart pounded, but her finger did not click the message open.
What if the police are watching my email? Ugh, of course they are. They have access to all of my accounts by this point. Even if I wanted to respond, what would I say? I’m going back to Oriceran, I’m not in Virginia to stay. So what good would it do to tell anyone I’m here?
It was an ethical dilemma of proportions Jordan did not feel equipped to handle at the moment.
I wish Dad were here; he would know what to do.
Jordan sat with her finger hovering over the mouse a moment longer. Finally, she closed up her email and opened a browser. She ran a search for anything related to the Lewis gun, anything that might help Arth to recreate it and get some copies operational in short order. She got her dad's printer spitting out documents, and left it to its business.
She went upstairs and pushed open the door to her dad's war room. Everything looked just the way they'd left it, yet everything seemed so different. This was where she'd last had a conversation with her father; last seen him lucid.
The gun sat in its crate, but someone had swept up the styrofoam peanuts. It must have been Cal. Jordan wondered how the groundskeeper was taking their disappearance, and entertained the idea of leaving him a note letting him know they were okay. She didn't like the idea of leaving Cal in misery, but notifying him was probably a bad idea; he might take it to the police. She supposed she could use the magic Sohne gave her, but it had a time limit, and the most important thing was getting the gold.
Footsteps on the stairs made Jordan peek out the door.
Sol stepped up onto the landing wearing the black t-shirt––it was a touch too small. It stretched across his chest and accentuated the muscles that were normally hidden under his smooth leather armor. The jeans hugged his thighs, and Jordan realized with an embarrassing rush of heat to her face how attractive Sol was without all of the usual accoutrements.
He came in, eyes bouncing around the room.
"Wow. Your dad's war room. He really does have a lot of stuff."
"This is the gun." She knelt beside the crate. "We have to take it out of the box for this to work."
They pulled the wooden sides away, and Jordan retrieved a garbage bag to hold all of the packing peanuts and styrofoam molds.
Cal would find the gun missing and be alarmed, but it couldn't be helped.
"They don't make these any more?" Sol scanned the folded sheet that had been tucked inside the box. "It's an antique?"
Jordan nodded. "The guns they make now make this thing look like a slingshot."
"Too bad he doesn't collect anything newer." Sol scanned the documents with interest.
"My dad can tell you all about it when he wakes up." Jordan retrieved the sack Sohne had given them that contained the magic they needed. "First step." Jordan untied the leather thong and opened the mouth of the sack. "No touchy," she warned and upturned the sack. Out fell a sparkly gray powder that looked like metal shavings. It landed on the gun's magazine and immediately began to spread across the surface of the gun, flashing and turning as it went. It crawled across the gun's edges, down into its cracks and crannies, leaving a thin film behind.
When the entire gun was coated inside and out, Jordan pulled out the lighter she'd snagged from a shelf in her bathroom. She lit it, and held the flame to one corner of the gun.
"Sorry, Dad," she muttered. "It's for a good cause."
The powder caught fire, and a small ring of flame began to sizzle and burn, slowly spreading across the lineament of the gun. It moved at a snail's pace.
"That's it; she said this part will take hours." Jordan looked up at Sol. "Ready to see Richmond, my friend?"
***
They took a vintage Plymouth from the garage. Jordan didn't want to take her own car or the Land Rover Allan was known for. They were both missing persons, and the vehicles could easily be recognized. The Plymouth was a car Allan had restored in the likeness of the one his grandfather, Declin, had driven. Whitewall tires, cherry-red finish, and chrome everywhere. Allan rarely drove the car; he kept it for nostalgic reasons. Even though it was a little on the flashy side, Jordan thought it was the best choice. She found a couple of her old hiking backpacks and one of her dad's ballcaps, and threw them into the backseat.
They made the drive without incident, and Jordan parked outside their family's bank. She took out the vial Sohne had given her, and eyed it dubiously before throwing it back in one gulp.
"Want me to wait here?" Sol asked, taking the empty vial.
Jordan shook her head and wiped her mouth. "Come in with me. I believe I could use the moral support." The muscles of her quads were quivering, making her feel like her knees were literally trembling with fear.
What if the magic doesn’t work?
She blew out a breath, pushing the thought from her mind. They got out of the car and shut the doors.
Sol craned his neck up at the bank. "Imposing."
"Yes. I believe that's intentional."
The Arpaks-incognito took the steps up to the bank’s revolving doors and went inside.
Twenty-two minutes later, they emerged carrying two backpacks full of cash.
"That was so weird," said Sol as they got into the Plymouth and pulled away.
"No kidding. Sohne did say they might converse in song, but that guy was painfully off-key."
"Could have been worse; at least he wasn't an ex of yours. I'd rather listen to tuneless singing than have to pull an old flame off of you."
"Ha ha." Jordan whacked him on the shoulder.
She drove the Plymouth to a seedier neighborhood, known for its pawn shops, and parked. The Arpaks each grabbed a backpack and headed into the little shop in the corner of a back alley.
She had never purchased gold bullion before; just the idea made her nervous. She put on her father's ballcap and a pair of sunglasses, but the attempt at the disguise only made her more nervous. Her palms were sweating.
The little man behind the counter was a consummate professional. He didn't even blink at her request to buy all the gold she could get for the amount of cash she had in the backpacks.
"Are you okay?" Sol whispered to her as the man disappeared into the back after counting her money. "You seem tense."
"I feel like a criminal," she whispered.
"Why?"
"Normal people don't buy up truckloads of gold bullion-–" she bit off her words as the man returned, and heaved a very heavy trunk onto the countertop.
"Here we are," he said amiably. "And you're wrong. Normal people do this every day. You'd be surprised at how many gold bars you'd find under mattresses and floorboards across America. Can't be too careful these days; what with martial law coming, and the devaluation of paper money. Whole thing’s a farce, anyway."
"Right," Jordan replied, chewing her thumbnail.
The transaction went smoothly, and the kind man helped them pile the heavy gold into the backpacks. "You'll be taking this straight to storage, I hope?"
"Yes," Sol said, hefting both backpacks. "No detours."
"Glad to hear it," the man crinkled a smile. He peered at Jordan through the specs on the end of his nose. "Anyone ever tell you that you look an awful lot like that pretty Kacy girl who went missing all those months ago? Different build, but a similar face."
Jordan laughed and pulled her ballcap down. She slid her aviators back on, though she hadn't yet left the shop.
"Oh, I get that all the time."
•••
"At this rate, the gun will be ready around midnight," Jordan said, entering the parlor. She'd just checked on the magical processing of the weapon, and there was still a few hours to go.
Sol was standing with his back to her, facing a cluster of family photographs on the wall. He looked over his shoulder, his expression clouded. "This is Jaclyn?" He pointed to a small portrait.
"Yeah." Jordan looked around, hoping to direct him to one of the larger photos on the mantel, but they were gone. "There were more; my dad must have taken them down." She frowned. "I just wish I could talk to him, ask him how much he knows. Part of me thinks he must have known about Oriceran. My mom's disappearance was so complete, so traceless."
Combatant: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Kacy Chronicles Book 3) Page 17
