Descendant: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Kacy Chronicles Book 1)

by A. L. Knorr

  "What's in there? A painkiller?"

  "Of sorts." Sohne led Jordan across a small bridge that arched over a trickling stream and the two hiked uphill. "The best thing you can do to prepare is to oxygenate your body. So for the rest of our little walk, I want you to take deep breaths."

  "No problem there," said Jordan, beginning to pant as the climb got steeper. The two hiked on for another twenty minutes, with Jordan focusing only on her breathing.

  When they came to a clearing where the canopy was high above their heads and the same clear stream was nearby, Sohne stopped. "Here we are." She took the bag off her shoulder and took out a tiny article of clothing. "Best put this on."

  Jordan took the article and held it up. "It's…a bra. Sort of." It was only a single piece of fabric, without any straps to hold it on. "How is this useful?"

  "It'll stay when you put it on. We need your shoulder blades uncovered."

  "Right." Jordan turned her back to Sohne and wormed out of her vest and blouse. She laid them on a nearby log and held up the bra. It was the strangest material she'd ever seen. Though it wasn't on a body yet, it managed somehow to hold itself in shape as though it was. Jordan put it over her breasts and the material seemed to grab them–holding itself in place. "Cool," she looked down, admiring the shape it gave her. "Can we include this in our trade? It's genius." She turned to face Sohne.

  The Elf smiled. "It's yours. It’s one of Eohne’s more elegant inventions."

  Next, Sohne removed from the bag a small clear jar with a cork in it. The bottle hidden in the Elf’s palm, Jordan couldn't see what was inside. She pulled out a second bottle, a wide-mouthed one with no lid. She handed it to Jordan. "I need you to make water in this."

  "’Make water?’" Jordan wrinkled her nose. "Oh, pee." She took the jar, found privacy in the shrubs and urinated into the container. She set the jar on a stone while she put her leggings and holster back in place and then made her way back to Sohne, trying not to spill. "Here you go. A present, from me to you. Don't spend it all in one place."

  Sohne cocked an eyebrow. "A joker. How quaint."

  "What are you going to do with it?"

  "Your frequency is in this liquid," said Sohne. "I'm going to use it to tap into the frequency of the rest of the water in your body. But I need you to put this guy against your skin first." Sohne handed her the other jar and Jordan took it, peering through the glass.

  "Holy Hannah, what is that?" Jordan almost dropped the jar. She made a face at the nasty looking insect inside. It was black with purple stripes; or purple with black stripes, Jordan wasn't sure. Either way, it looked like a psychedelic hornet. It was twice the size of a normal hornet, with a long, vicious stinger. Jordan held the jar up and peered in at the critter again. "Is this really necessary?"

  "Only if you want to dull the pain," said Sohne. She had retrieved a small ceramic platter the size of a dessert plate and she held it in her palm. She poured Jordan's pee onto the plate. "Hurry, please. Your frequency will begin to break down."

  "Dammit!" Jordan danced from foot to foot. She took a breath and grabbed the cork. Her eyes met Sohne's. "I kind of hate you right now." She yanked out the cork and pressed the mouth of the jar to her forearm. She winced and squeezed her eyes shut. She jumped at the sting, but it wasn't nearly as painful as she'd anticipated. "That wasn't so baaaaaaaaa—"

  Her legs wobbled and then melted into goo. Her vision turned into a swirly blur of color and she hit the forest floor. Her tongue felt larger than her head and her whole body turned to jelly. She could no longer make out Sohne's shape. The Elf was just a long alien figure, with long arms and fingers, that was fuzzy around the edges. Jordan tried to speak, but what emerged was a sloppy drone of random syllables. The shape that used to be an Elf murmured something, but all Jordan could hear was a buzz in her ears. When the pain came, it was blunt and aimless, wandering throughout her torso and back like a heavy roller made of hard rubber. Noise came from everywhere; long drones and short buzzes and a few higher pitched wavering notes. Jordan didn’t have the ability to string rational thought together any longer. She had transformed into nothing but dull pain and alien sensations.

  ***

  The world was full of sideways trees. Jordan inhaled with a start and a dull ache in her back and shoulders made her groan. Her first movement was to wipe moisture from her cheek from where she had drooled into the forest floor. She smacked herself in the face with floppy fingers. "Shohn," she croaked.

  "Drink this," came the Elf's voice. A jar of clear liquid appeared in front of her face. "Slowly."

  "Peed in 'at," mumbled Jordan.

  "I washed it."

  Jordan took more than a few moments to curl her fingers around the small jar and get her shoulder to take the weight of her arm and the cup. It took another several moments to lift her head. The world spun and Jordan froze and closed her eyes until it passed. She took a breath, opened her eyes and guided the cup slowly to her lips, taking the slowest, most laborious swallows she'd ever taken in her life. Sohne took the cup from her. Jordan’s head was still really close to the ground. She tried to push herself up to sitting, but it felt like there was a weight holding her down. "Whash'appen ng?"

  "You've never had wings before," said Sohne. "Your body has to get used to them. Your musculature needs time to develop." Sohne's foot appeared beside Jordan's head and then her hand appeared. "Take my hand. Just concentrate on getting up. One thing at a time."

  Jordan took the Elf's hand and braced herself on the support Sohne offered. Jordan turned her head. The arch of a pale yellow feathered wing was just visible in her periphery. She pulled herself up to sitting and that's when the actual sensation of having wings hit her. "Oh," she said, her eyes going wide. It was like having another set of arms; long, slender arms, covered in feathers, that folded in an entirely different way than her human arms.

  Sohne took much of Jordan's weight as she pulled the woman to her feet. Jordan staggered, her heart pounding with the effort. Wings appeared in both sides of her peripheral vision. "Oh, my…" She looked up and back. The insides of her wings were white and soft. The tips of the outermost feathers were yellow. She opened them out and in, flexing them for the first time. They were enormous and stretched out far and wide on either side of her, just like Sol's did. The new joints in her back creaked as she flexed them for the first time. The weight of her wings pulled down on her collarbones and scapula, stretching the muscles on the sides of her neck in a new way. The movement radiated through her back and out into each shoulder. She rotated the wings forward, perpendicular to her spine. The tops of her wings were soft yellow and as they tilted further forward, she saw the outsides of them.

  She gasped. "I'm a freaking canary!"

  The outsides of her wings were a bright yellow. The color wasn't pure, as the larger feathers towards the outsides of her wings faded to brown. She groaned anyway. "Yellow? Really?" She glared at Sohne. "I hate yellow."

  Sohne covered her mouth with a hand and Jordan was sure the Elf was trying not to laugh. "I have nothing to do with the color," she said. She held out a palm, "You are blonde, after all." She cocked her head. "They're beautiful."

  "Ugggghhhh," Jordan groaned. And then the realization that she had wings really sank in and a grin crossed her face. "Where's Sol? I need to learn how to use these things."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  "She'll be okay," said Eohne, watching Sol pace like a caged animal. He hadn’t stopped circling the clearing since Sohne and Jordan had disappeared.

  Sol gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded. I should be on my way to Maticaw by now. I am incredibly late with my delivery. And yet it wasn't his professional problems that were making him wear a path into the dirt. It was so many other things and all of them had something to do with the human woman who wasn't actually human. It had been hard enough keeping his distance knowing she had to go back to Earth; what did it mean now that she was rightfully a citizen of Oriceran? What kinds of barriers c
ould he throw up between them now?

  His face brightened when the bush beyond the hut rustled and he made out the tops of a set of pale yellow wings. When Sohne emerged from the bush, Sol almost put his neck out trying to see around her. And when the rest of Jordan came into view, his heart tripped on its wheel and his breath caught. Jordan's eyes met his and she smiled.

  Sol's wings vibrated, a small and sudden flutter. The movement was involuntary; Jordan's eyes caught it and her wings mimicked his, like their wings were greeting one another. His eyes skimmed her torso and his face heated. She was wearing only a slip of fabric, twisted in the middle and winging out to cover her breasts. Her stomach and chest were pale next to the tanned skin of her shoulders and arms. As though remembering her near-nudity, Jordan crossed her arms.

  "Sohne is having someone cut laces into the back of my vest," Jordan explained, blushing.

  "Good idea," said Sol, whose face was also pink.

  "You going to teach me what to do with these?" Jordan stretched her wings out.

  He walked around her and took a look at the tops of her wings. His brows shot up at the bright yellow secondary feathers and the brown primary feathers. The scapular feathers in the center looked downy soft and light yellow. "How tropical," Sol remarked, with the biggest grin he'd had in a long time.

  She narrowed her eyes at Sol. "What's so funny?"

  "Nothing," Sol wiped the goofy grin from his face. "Let's get you airborne."

  ***

  "Ride the updraft," Sol yelled down at Jordan, who was flapping and juddering in the air like an aimless kite.

  "How? Ack!" Jordan's heart jounced in her chest as she dropped and her stomach flew upward into her mouth.

  "Let your legs trail behind you instead of hanging straight down, then open wide and just glide." Sol did a spiral and turned over to show her what he meant. He picked up speed and had to make a big loop before coming back to her.

  "Showoff," Jordan muttered. "What if I fall out of the sky?" But Sol was out of range. "Good, now I'm talking to myself." She looked down at the hilltop below her, the same open glade where she and Eohne had sent the message to Allan. So far, she'd been too scared to go more than a dozen feet above the trees.

  "Climb, Jordan," Sol yelled as he circled above her. "Don't hang out where it's the hardest to fly – there's nothing down there to climb with."

  Jordan gave a few powerful flaps and began to climb laboriously. She grunted as she inched her way upward. "What are you grinning at now?" she asked when she caught Sol's expression.

  "You know your wings can operate separately from your arms, right?" He said, dimpling on both sides of his mouth.

  "Oh, right." Jordan stopped flapping her arms and let her wings move independently. She caught an updraft and her wings opened out, feeling stretched. "Whoa," she cried as she flew upward. "Sol!" She squealed, feeling like a leaf in a tornado.

  "Stop thinking so hard,” Sol called. “Your wings are made for this. Let them do the work. It's like walking. Do you think about your legs moving when you walk?"

  Jordan didn't answer, her heart was pounding too hard. She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over her. But as her vision blanked out, something wonderful happened: her wings grabbed the air and propelled her upward and forward. Jordan gasped at the sensation. Her eyes flew open, but her wings and body held steady. The powerful flaps took the energy swirling around her, found the currents and righted her. "Sol, I'm doing it!" She laughed, breathlessly.

  "Nice work." Sol's voice came from above her. She looked up. Sol flew in an arch over her, passing her while upside down.

  "How is that even possible?" Jordan's wings gave an ache as adrenalin flooded them.

  "I've been flying for a while, now," said Sol, barrel rolling to hover in front of her, his chest facing hers. "Like anything else, it's just a matter of putting the hours in. By the time we get to Maticaw, you'll be flying like a pro."

  "Maticaw?"

  "I have to make my delivery there," said Sol. "Then we can go on to Rodania."

  Jordan's heart felt unexpectedly full. Sol was going to take her with him, not abandon her to fend for herself. Her wings burned and her heart pounded. Breathlessly she said, "I thought I was fit. I have to go down." She looked down at the canopy. "How do I get down?"

  Landing and taking off were the most difficult parts of flying and Jordan was already struggling. "Let me help you with the first time," Sol said. Sol circled Jordan until he was directly behind her, matching her stroke for stroke. The wind from her wings blew his hair up and back from his face. He put his hands on her waist and steered her, flying them in tandem back to the glade. "Legs forward, wings out," Sol said, pulling her up and back, feet to the earth. They landed and Jordan took a few running steps as Sol let her go. "You'll get stronger quickly," said Sol. "You've just never used them before."

  Jordan turned to face him, her eyes bright and face flushed. "That was amazing." She wanted to take off again, but her wings felt like they were made of sod. She folded them and let them relax. They throbbed with the effort the flight had taken.

  "My mother has to be Arpak," Jordan said. "How else would this be possible?” Jordan could barely face the emotions that had come along with this revelation.

  How had Jaclyn ended up on Earth? Why had she married a human? Why had she left her baby? Why hadn't she ever told Allan anything about what she was and where she was from? Why had she disappeared twice? Where was she now? What was she doing?

  Jordan tried not to let the anger overtake her; there would be time for that later. She needed more answers; she needed to understand. There was a headstone back in Virginia for a beloved wife and mother who wasn't actually dead. There had better be a damn good reason for the deception.

  Sol regarded her, his eyes now serious. "If she's an Arpak and she's here on Oriceran, then she's most likely in Rodania. That's your best bet for finding her. It's our capital."

  Jordan nodded and her stomach gave a twist. She was closer than ever to unraveling the mystery of her mother's disappearance. "You'll take me there?"

  "As long as you don't mind stopping off in Maticaw first," Sol said. "I have to complete this delivery, then we can go on to Rodania."

  "How many days?"

  "That depends on you," Sol nodded at her wings. "Whatever you can handle. Maticaw and Rodania are less than a day’s journey apart.

  "And how far is Maticaw?"

  "If we leave tonight, we can be there by tomorrow evening." He gave her a look. "The first couple of days will be hard. You’ll be sore. Are you ready for that?"

  “What’s a little soreness compared to what we’ve already been through? I'll be damned if I sit around here in Charra-Rae, doing flying exercises while my mother is so close." Her eyes found his and Sol found himself standing up straighter at the determination he saw there. "Let's get my things and go. Now. Today."

  "As you wish," agreed Sol.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The Kacy Estate

  Allan had nearly worn a trail into the wood of the front porch with his pacing. Jordan had been missing for over two weeks now. The evidence left behind was miniscule and yet massively disturbing in nature. A few droplets of blood connecting her favorite oak tree with the parlor, a bag of melted ice soaking the carpet and crushed patches of grass below the limbs of the oak were the only clues left behind.

  Allan had almost fainted when he'd seen the first drop of blood drying on the wood of their back deck, but a righteous fury had brought him back around. Whoever had hurt his darling daughter was going to pay. The inspectors had combed every inch of the manor and the property like the bloodhounds they were. But state senator or not, Allan wouldn't hesitate to take things into his own hands. The law had failed miserably with Jaclyn—turning up no leads in over three years of investigation. Allan hoped they didn't fail with Jordan, too. At least they had more to go on: blood. Not much, but then, Allan didn't like any of his daughter's blood to be outside of he
r body.

  No, sir. Not acceptable. Somebody is going to pay.

  The pitying looks from the investigators could hardly be borne. Poor Allan Kacy. His wife vanished and two decades later, his daughter has vanished, too.

  A few of the looks were laced with suspicion, but Allan had watertight alibis in both circumstances. The questions were endless. Who are your enemies? (Not 'Do you have enemies', for it was assumed that as a politician, they came with the territory.) Did Jordan have any enemies that you know of? Do you know the passwords for Jordan's phone and laptop? Did she keep a journal? We'll need access to her diary and emails.

  Allan began to have nightmares and soon he was afraid to go to sleep. My baby's blood has been spilled. But the day Inspector Cranston pulled up in front of the manor, with the deep line between his eyes and news he was extremely hesitant to share, was the day Allan's world shifted on its axis.

  "It's not Jordan's blood," Inspector Cranston said, standing on Allan's front porch.

  Allan found himself unable to blink for a space of time that could have been ten seconds or a year; then relief flooded his limbs. He sank onto the wicker loveseat behind him. "It's not Jordan's blood," he echoed.

  The inspector shook his head and pushed his glasses up his nose. He took a breath, as though to say something else, but then paused.

  "Whose blood is it, then?"

  Cranston put his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket. "We don't know that. I can tell you that it's from a male. It sheds a lot of light on the case, but only gives us the ability to match it to a suspect," he paused. "Or another victim."

  Allan's eyes flashed to Cranston's face. "Another victim?" He thought this through. "I hope you're not insinuating that my daughter was the perpetrator, here. She's the one who's missing and she would never go anywhere without telling me first. She knows what it would do to me." He jabbed a finger toward the inspector. "My daughter is in trouble."