Kindred (Akasha Book 2)

by Indie Gantz

  “I imagine so,” Oleander responds. Smiling. Fond.

  Then, as if punched in the abdomen, Oleander gasps. It’s the kind of sound one expects to hear rarely, and never without unpleasant cause.

  When I turn to find the source of his discomfort, I find his eyes wide and unblinking, his gaze focused out the front window. Shock. Anxiety. Fear. When my eyes find what his have landed on, my heart skips a beat.

  Standing less than ten meters away from the front of our vehicle is Calor’s family. His father and brother stand threateningly beside Celosia, each with a hand wrapped around her arm. She looks very unwell. Hunched over. Pale.

  “On second thought, Bo,” Oleander whispers. “Perhaps it’d be best to hold it.”

  Day Twenty-Seven: Charlie

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Obispo

  We reach the Anunnaki border half an hour later, our clothes moist from sweat and the jungle’s humidity. We experience zero paranoia when we approach the tree line that separates Anunnaki land from Zoúnkla. I don’t feel the creeping sensation I did before, nor does it feel like the jungle is haunting me with its song. It’s just trees and dirt. Birds and rodents. Memories and disappointment.

  “The barrier is down here too.” I look past the tree line and into the distant lands of the Anunnaki.

  There’s only the open field where we walked with John, the tall grass hiding a variety of animals, and the sun beating down on them just as ferociously as it does us. I feel the sudden urge to take off running, to race to the spot where our trailer would no longer be. It’s only a few bêrus away. I could be there in just a few minutes if I used my powers to increase my speed. But I know there would be nothing to find there. My father’s gone. He would have fled too, gone into hiding somewhere. He might even be in the jungle right now. Maybe Tirigan and I should just yell his name a few times, see what happens.

  We should get back. The shop will be closing soon.

  I nod begrudgingly. We should look for signs that John has been here, first.

  I’ve already dismissed that. I have not seen signs of a camp or prolonged habitation. The tread on the jungle floor looks no more trampled than when we were first here. I have not seen a decrease in animal life nor vegetation, which would suggest that no one has been living off of those items recently. It would be reasonable to assume that John has not been waiting for us here.

  Sighing with disappointment, I nod again. All right, I guess that’s all we can do for now then.

  Tirigan turns and heads back into the jungle, and after one last look back in the direction of our lost home, I join him.

  My brother leads us to a different path, one that runs parallel to the one we followed when we were with John. I don’t have to ask Tirigan to know that he wants to cover a wide area, just in case there are signs of John living in the jungle. The route he takes us is more overgrown. There’s a lot more ducking and stepping over fallen trees and branches.

  I’m watching my feet and actively trying to remember what my parents sound like when they laugh together, when Tirigan’s arm slams into my chest.

  The action isn’t painful so much as surprising. When I look at him in alarm, expecting an explanation, I find his index finger pressed to his lips in warning. He then points ahead of us.

  Look. The trees.

  I follow Tirigan’s gaze a few šēpusi ahead to find an oddly arranged group of cashapona trees.

  There’s at least eight of them, twenty šēpusi high and lined up side by side, forming a semi-circle and arcing away from us. Their long roots extend down from their trunks in a way that makes it look like the trees have several legs, just waiting for an opportunity to walk away. A small opening between two of the tree’s bases, just large enough for us to squeeze through, looks like an archway, but not a natural one. Someone’s formed it.

  What do you think—

  A rustle of leaves comes from behind us. I turn to investigate, but Tirigan’s one step ahead of me. When his eyes land on the source of the sound, he releases a whimpering gasp. It’s instantly the most terrifying noise I’ve ever heard.

  When I see what’s pulled such a distressing sound from Tirigan, it feels like the ground is pulled out from beneath me. My heart drops in my stomach, my stomach leaps into my mouth, the jostle of my insides inducing a guttural groan that I instantly tamper with a hand over my mouth.

  Not twenty šēpusi ahead of us is something I’ve only seen drawn in textbooks. The creature, twice as tall as Tirigan and myself, is part man, part scorpion. Its body undulates back and forth slowly, a hypnotic sway that makes me question what I’m seeing. The aqrabuamelu is pasty white from head to waist, where its humanoid appearance ends. A metal chest piece extends over its long torso, like armor. The scales that meet the bottom of the silver armor are a deep red color that turns black when they reach the long stinger curling upward from its back. The stinger appears to have weapons of its own; small black and red barbed appendages extend from the main stinger. They begin to vibrate as the creature’s red eyes shift from Tirigan to myself.

  Tirigan… Terror keeps my mind from thinking much more.

  Step back slowly, Tirigan replies. He lets me feel his fear. If we can make it to the walking palms archway, I don’t think it will be able to follow.

  The aqrabuamelu keeps swaying, its spidery black legs twitch, preparing to move. With its sinister gaze still intent on us, I slowly lift my foot and take a tentative step backward.

  As the leaves crunch beneath me, the aqrabuamelu lets out a wailing screech and throws its arms up in what looks like some sort of battle cry.

  Its stinger raises up and over its head, the barbed appendages shaking violently as the monster charges towards us. I only get a glimpse of its many legs scampering along the jungle floor before I turn and race towards the walking palm archway.

  Another wail comes from behind me, and then a sharp pain in my back takes over most of my senses. I cry out, stumbling and reaching around to find the source of my pain, but Tirigan grabs my arm and pulls me along with him, not letting me slow down. A second later, another stinging jolt of agony rips through my calf.

  Tirigan grunts out a similar cry as he reaches the archway, but he doesn’t move through it. Instead, he steps aside and motions for me to go through first. His eyes are wide and urgent as he looks behind me.

  “Go!” Tirigan shouts, like I need motivation to put a barrier between myself and the monster chasing after me.

  I scramble through the makeshift archway of limbs and roots, only to find my foot lodged between some of them. I try to pull myself free, but I trip and further tangle myself. “I’m stuck!”

  “Charlie!” Tirigan’s cry of impatient fear is punctuated by a loud, metal clang that reverberates throughout the jungle. I find my balance and pull myself through the archway just in time to find Tirigan staring in the direction of our pursuer, no longer in any haste to make his way to safety.

  What are you doing? Come on!

  The aqrabuamelu, Tirigan replies, his mind calm and chaotic at the same time. It’s stopped. It’s… Tirigan trails off, but moves to the side, still on the other side of the archway. I don’t step back through, but I lean out and look around my brother to see what keeps him from rushing through.

  The aqrabuamelu pants only a scant šēpusi away, its red eyes on Tirigan and myself, its long white tongue licking its chapped lips in a way that sends my heart back into overdrive. It takes me a moment, my eyes at first unwilling to leave the sharp teeth that reside in the creature’s mouth, but then I see what keeps the monster from attacking us.

  It’s chained.

  The metal chest piece across the aqrabuamelu’s body is actually a cuff of some sort, attached to a long chain with thick metal links.

  Why? I ask, not expecting an answer. Who would do this?

  Tirigan just shakes his head. He stares at the creature for another moment, then shifts back towards the walking palms archway, stepping backward through it. He
doesn’t take his eyes off the creature until he’s safely on the other side.

  “John said they didn’t exist,” I whisper, catching Tirigan’s thoughtful gaze. I gesture toward the stinger in my back, and Tirigan nods. He pulls it out for me, and then I return the favor for the one lodged between his shoulder blades.

  “John said a lot of things,” Tirigan replies, but not bitterly. He pulls a second stinger from his thigh as I dislodge the one in my calf. The stingers aren’t overly large, about the size of a kiwi.

  “I don’t think he would lie to us about this,” I reply, sighing as the open wound bleeds. It should be healed enough to hide by the time we get back. If there’s poison in the stingers, my Anunnaki blood should prevent it from doing any real damage. “It’s not the same as… I don’t think he’d keep this from us if he knew, and it was chained up like… like I don’t know. Some sort of pet?”

  Tirigan doesn’t reply. His gaze falls back to the creature, which lets out another spine-chilling shriek. Tirigan tentatively steps back from the archway and takes in the space around us. Hesitant to take my eyes off the predator looking to make us its next meal, I angle my body so I can keep an eye on the aqrabuamelu as I look around the space between the walking palms.

  More cashapona trees angle out and away from the archway, eventually meeting again in the middle. The trees make a perfect circle. Like a cage.

  I immediately whip my head back around towards the archway, our only exit, to find it closing before my eyes.

  Tirigan! It’s closing! My brother doesn’t move, even as I rush towards the archway and try to stop it from sealing shut. Tirigan! Help me!

  Charlie, stop. Tirigan’s tone is calm in my mind, but I can feel his uneasiness. He still isn’t trying to hide his feelings from me. Look.

  The trees tower over us, the space in the middle wide enough for only four or five people. I’m beginning to feel like the trees are moving in on us, like they’re walking closer. It’s only when I remember that we can invoke Gi and get out of here pretty easily, that my nerves settle, and I can concentrate on what Tirigan is trying to show me.

  In the trunks. Look.

  Moving closer to the center of the circle, I spin around slowly. There are arrows burned into the trunks. A dozen arrows, all pointing up to the sky, singed into the roots of each cashapona.

  A sign?

  A direction.

  I look up at the sky, the green leaves of the walking palms dancing in the breeze against the light blue sky. It’s bright, too bright for me to stare for long.

  And there’s a smell. The smell of something far too familiar now. Do you smell that?

  Smoke. I don’t see a fire.

  I nod and look up at the sky for another short moment. Realizing what we will have to do next, I bring my gaze back to Tirigan. So, we’re going to have to…

  Yes.

  Have you tried it yet?

  No.

  Me neither. We share a hesitant look, and then I let out a nervous huff. No time like the present.

  That is a miscalculation. Time is a construct built entirely in one’s own mind. What came before and what comes after is entirely—

  Tirigan? I cut off his rant before he has a chance to really get going.

  Yes?

  Now’s not the time.

  Right. Apologies.

  So, are you ready? Tirigan gives an unconvincing nod. We can do this. All we have to do is manipulate the air pressure around us. Thinning above and thickening below.

  Yes. Simple physics.

  We both turn our gaze up to the tree tops and take a deep breath. Remembering what I’ve read about flight so far, I determine the best method of manipulating the air pressure around me right now is through the manipulation of the air molecules themselves.

  If I want to increase the pressure, I push the molecules closer together, and if I want to decrease the pressure, I spread them apart.

  Concentrating on the air above me, I visualize each individual molecule and begin sweeping them away. I instantly feel the cold tingle of my power spreading out the air molecules above and around me, which then lifts my body off the ground effortlessly. I push the excess air molecules down towards the ground beneath me, and then my body is soaring through the air quickly. Too quickly.

  The skin of my face feels like it’s being peeled away as my body rushes violently towards the top of the trees. The smell of smoke is overwhelming when I reach the highest branches and ascend over them, but fortunately, my coughing fit helps to slow me down as I accidently release some of the air pressure beneath me.

  As soon as I can focus enough to do so, I adjust the pressure around me again so that my body is held steadily in place above the tree tops.

  Tirigan seems to have had trouble controlling the force of his flight as well, and he has yet to steady himself. He continues to sail upwards, an extremely focused, yet fearful, look on his face. I’m able to catch a hold of his foot just before he soars out of reach.

  Adjusting the pressure below him so he’s no longer being forced so viciously upwards, I tug a little on his foot, then let him go.

  After a moment, Tirigan descends slowly back down, eventually coming to float beside me. That was difficult.

  Yeah. I’m surprised I didn’t throw up.

  I’m not sure I didn’t. Tirigan cringes and swallows several times. It’d be amusing if I didn’t feel just as nauseas.

  When we’ve both got our bearings, we look down at the tree tops to find that the world has tilted again, offering up another piece of an increasingly frustrating puzzle.

  The smell of smoke continues to waft into the air, but now the source is blatantly obvious.

  Burned into the canopy of cashapona trees are six letters.

  OBISPO.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Sow it Everywhere

  "That would not have been a priority to them,” Tirigan rambles aloud. “No. Neanderthals mustn’t have had much in the way of hygiene products. Survival rate being as low as it was, although perhaps higher than many would assume. Less disease. More bears. No toothpaste. My mouth tastes like someone urinated in it, and then attempted to soak up the excess moisture with cotton balls. Synthetic, of course. Organic cotton is no longer available. Nor are bell peppers. Such a shame, that one. I’ve always wanted to taste a real bell pepper. The ones Anunnaki have engineered are not very flavorful. Charlie once prepared a recipe that called for a red bell pepper. She used tomato instead. It was awful. Calla and John ate it anyway, of course. They always spoiled her. My irritation with the practice isn’t easily definable. A sliding scale perhaps. Oh. I defined it. I am very clever, you know...”

  Tirigan’s spent the last thirty minutes of Oleander’s lesson talking. So. Much. Talking.

  Do you know you’re doing that out loud? I eventually ask, feeling bad about stifling him but also needing to not hear his voice anymore.

  “Am I?” Tirigan answers then continues to ramble on about how very intelligent he is.

  Yes, Tirigan. You’ve quadrupled your max words spoken in record time. Is there a chance you could stop now?

  “Hm. I can’t seem to reach your…” Tirigan trails off, and then I feel a fumbling push at my mind. If I were feeling unaffected, it would be easy to keep my brother out, but, just like Tirigan, I am not myself at the moment.

  There. May I continue?

  “Please don’t,” I whine. Tirigan ignores me, but he does stop rambling out loud. Now only I am subject to his every thought. At least until this damn tea wears off.

  Oleander offered us the fragrant red and green leafed tea before we began our Gi lesson, claiming that the tea would help us become one with the earth. He said it would open us up to more sensation and knowledge, and he wasn’t wrong.

  The moment the tea began to take effect, after I was already laying down in the grass and staring blankly up at the overcast sky, I began to feel more connected.

  I could feel movement within each blade of gras
s, echoing vibrations with every scrape of my fingers in the dirt. I heard Earth’s whispers and Oleander was right, it did sound like a woman. Although, I can’t help but acknowledge that the whisper sounds a lot like my mother when she used to tuck me in at night, a memory that doesn’t hurt the way I know it should.

  Nothing hurts right now.

  The pain of losing my parents. My frustration with the elusive word, Obispo, and not having found a single reference to it in any of the texts we’ve studied. My fiery nightmare that likes to leave ash-soaked party favors. Kor and whatever it is he’s hiding. The stress of the mission in front of me. Oh, and the new knowledge that there really are scorpion men inhabiting the jungle I left my father in.

  I don’t feel any of it. I don’t feel… anything.

  I can’t decide if I like this feeling. It’s hard not to enjoy the freedom that comes with not feeling so heavy all of the time, but sometimes it feels like the weight of my troubles is all I have left. Well, that and my brother.

  My brother who’s currently reciting the entirety of Shakespeare’s Macbeth in his head and mine.

  Where the tea made my body heavy and my mind sluggish, although more aware of the earth beneath me, it had the opposite effect on Tirigan. Neither his mind nor his mouth has stopped moving since he ingested the leaves.

  I can’t really be sure of how long we lie out in the grass with Oleander, it could be ten minutes after Tirigan stops talking out loud, or it could be an hour. Time doesn’t really make sense.

  At some point, Oleander slowly sits up and pulls his legs in close to his chest, letting his arms drape over his knees. Sometime after that, I also pull myself up to sit, the entire world capsizing as I do. I hold back the urge to vomit and concentrate on the way Oleander looks down at the ground, his fingers idly drawing symbols in the dirt.

  He’s reverent, completely awed by what lies beneath and around him. I try to tap into that feeling, but I don’t think it’s physically possible for anyone to love the Earth as much Oleander does. The thought brings a secret smile to my face.