Transcendent: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Kacy Chronicles Book 4)

by Anderle, Michael

  Jordan brought her knee up into Ashley's groin. Hard.

  The hand fell away as Ashley crumpled soundlessly. His frame curled inward like an armadillo, and a long, low wheeze of pain came from the back of his throat as his hands clutched his genitals.

  Jordan set her blade against Ashley's neck, and the two of them froze there. Her teal eyes bore into his brown ones as her twin stared up at her with Jaclyn's eyes. Even with one of them nearly swollen shut, they were the same eyes that had haunted her for years.

  "Go on, then." Ashley ground the words out. He lifted his chin, giving her better access to his jugular. "I deserve it."

  Jordan gritted her teeth and stared down at him. Rainwater ran down her neck, plastered her hair to her face and dripped from her chin and nose. A chill settled into her bones and she shivered. With a snarl of frustration, she took her blade from Ashley's neck. His right eye was now completely closed and swollen, and his left was bloody in the inner corner from a burst blood vessel.

  "What happened to you?" she gritted out.

  The corner of Ashley's mouth turned up, just a little, twisting his lips with irony. "Our mother tried to have me killed."

  He made to get up, and Jordan raised her swordtip to his throat again. He froze, his eyes on the blade. Slowly, he raised both hands, palms out. "I'm not going to hurt you. I swear."

  "Your word means nothing to me," Jordan spat.

  Ashley's good eye left the steel and trailed upward to her face. The irony which had twisted his expression melted away. He frowned, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "I know."

  Jordan stepped back and allowed Ashley to get to his feet. Indecision about what to do next settled over her like a cloak.

  Should I just turn my back and leave? Is what he said about Jaclyn trying to have him killed true? Is this some kind of trap?

  She sheathed her blade and shook the water from her wings, watching him through narrowed eyes.

  "There's something—–" Ashley began, but paused to take a heavy breath. His hand clutched at his side and then pulled away, opening palm up and shaking. Even in the dim light of the alley, Jordan could see it was covered in blood. "Something…" he wheezed, looking down at the hand. "You should know," he finished, before his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed face-first onto the pavement.

  ***

  "Can you help him?" Jordan asked the Dwarf who hovered over Ashley's still and ashen form.

  "Depends," the Dwarf mumbled, probing Ashley's side.

  Ashley had been hoisted onto a narrow wooden table by Jordan and the Dwarf––not an easy job even between the two of them. It had taken a burly sailor recruited from the docks, as well as two gold coins from the purse Juer had given Jordan for Sohne, to get Ashley's unconscious form carried to the Dwarf healer's clinic. The storm had not let up, and Maticaw was swathed in the dark and violence of a proper seaswept storm.

  The stranger Jordan had hired to carry Ashley knew about the Dwarf healer, and told Jordan in lilting and a very old form of English that the Dwarf was better than any doctor. Jordan didn't know if she had been foolish to believe the sailor or not.

  The Dwarf's hut was built high up in the side of a steep hill. It had been a long and exhausting day. Jordan was bushed.

  The Dwarf levelled her with a crafty look. "Gold, have you?"

  Jordan nodded wearily. "How much?"

  He let out a long, low growl that could have been a sound of rumination, before slurring into the words, "Four gold coin." He snatched up a seriously hefty pair of shears and snipped at the ties holding Ashley's vest on. The boiled leather parted like a crack in the earth. Blood spilled onto the wooden table from a ragged stab wound in Ashley's ribs.

  "No, five," he amended.

  The Dwarf barked in a foreign tongue to no one in particular, but almost immediately, a small door in the corner cracked open and a younger dwarfish face peered out. She responded in kind, her garbled tongue sounding to Jordan more like a chicken clucking than anything else. The door opened further, and she came out carrying a stack of folded white linen cloths. The healer took one and pressed it to Ashley's side.

  "Hold this," he directed Jordan. She moved to the table and pressed the linen into Ashley's wound.

  The healer went to a trunk against the wall and knelt in front of it. "Needs magic," the Dwarf growled over his shoulder at Jordan.

  "I'll pay," said Jordan. "But I can't stay longer than tonight. I have to continue on first thing in the morning. I'm not his friend, I'm just his…" Sister. The word bounced around in Jordan's skull, forming ice wherever it landed. "I'm an acquaintance. I didn't want to leave him to die in the streets."

  "Did this?" the Dwarf asked as he rummaged through the trunk of goods, tossing aside fabrics, leather bags, small weapons, and other strange implements.

  "Me? No." Jordan sagged against the table, keeping the cloth against the cut. "I don't know who did this."

  "What weapon? Poisoned?"

  "I don't know. Looks like a very messy knife wound, or maybe a jagged stick. I have no idea if it was poisoned."

  The Dwarf snatched up a vial and grunted. He spread Ashley's armor wider and took over the job of holding the now blood-soaked linen to the wound. He pulled it away very slowly, and Jordan winced at the slash in Ashley's skin. It looked as though whatever had stabbed him had ripped the skin, rather than cutting it cleanly.

  "Hold head."

  Jordan moved to the table and held Ashley's head still. His hair was wet and matted. She kept her fingers away from the crusty blood on the side of his temple.

  "Hold mouth open."

  "He won't be able to swallow."

  "He will."

  Using her other hand, Jordan pulled Ashley's jaw down until his lips parted.

  The Dwarf dribbled liquid from the vial between Ashley's slack jaws. Jordan expected it to spill over, but it disappeared inside.

  "Step back. Hands off."

  Jordan moved her hands away, holding her palms up to show she was no longer touching him. There was a popping sound, and a cloud of blue smoke jetted from Ashley's mouth and nostrils.

  "No poison," the Dwarf grunted, satisfied. "Leave the coin there." He pointed to a shelf above the fireplace. "Five. Five coin." Then he barked again, and the lady Dwarf reappeared.

  She grasped Jordan by the hand and tugged on it, leading her toward the door.

  "We have bed for you," she said in her clicky, clucking way. "He need time."

  "I was going to stay at the Silver Pony," Jordan protested. The Dwarf continued to cluck like a chicken, and Jordan had the feeling she was trying to be comforting. Jordan allowed the Dwarf to take her into a small room with a cot. The woman tugged on the laces at Jordan's back, and Jordan let her help her out of her armor and wet clothing. She was handed a shirt with an apologetic look. It was a tunic, which Jordan would have to put on backwards, as it wasn't made to accommodate wings. It had five ties that would normally be fastened up the front, and a boatneck collar.

  "Thank you. At least it’s dry." Jordan smiled at the Dwarf gratefully.

  The shirt barely fit across her shoulders. Jordan was laced up the back and handed a towel for her wet hair. Then she was made to sit and, with a gentle push on her shoulders, to lay down.

  "Only until the storm stops," Jordan mumbled. "And, thank you."

  The Dwarf nodded and clucked. She gave Jordan a sloppy pat on the forehead then took Jordan's wet clothes and hung them on a rack in front of the fireplace to dry. She slipped from the room, and Jordan was left alone with only the sound of rain lashing the small round window above her head.

  Jordan tried to sleep but couldn't. She tossed and turned, leaving the sheets and blankets in ruins, and her backside exposed to the chilly air.

  What if Ashley dies? How will that make me feel? What would Jaclyn do?

  Even though he had tried to kill her, Jordan had to admit that she didn't wish death on Ashley. He was her flesh and blood. And besides, if he was in the mood to tal
k, which it certainly seemed he was until he collapsed on the cobblestones, he could have some very enlightening things to say about their mother.

  If he dies, whatever puzzle pieces he can provide will be lost with him.

  Several hours later, the storm still had yet to lose its power, and the door to Jordan's room opened. The Dwarf healer poked his head in.

  "Lady," he said. "Better now. Come, come, come."

  Jordan rolled over and put the soles of her feet on the chilly stone floor. Her jaw cracked wide with a yawn. She looked down at her bare legs and feet, thinking.

  "There." The healer pointed to a pair of stockings hanging on the rack next to her clothing.

  Jordan pulled them on, thinking they weren't quite what she was after. "Have you got any pants?" Her own leather ones were still soaking, and would be nearly impossible to put back on until they were dry.

  But the healer was gone, leaving her door open.

  "Okay, then." Jordan pulled the long stockings up as high as they would go and frowned down at her ridiculous appearance. She checked to make sure her rear end was covered by the tunic. Just before she headed through the door to check on Ashley, she snatched up the holster with the throwing blades.

  "Just in case," she muttered.

  ***

  Jordan walked into the room where she'd last seen Ashley laying still and ghastly pale on the narrow table. Her brows shot up to her hairline when she saw him slouched at the low table near the fire, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and sipping something hot and steamy from a thick, misshapen mug.

  "You look remarkably better," she said as she padded across the floor in her stockings and sat across from him. The table was kid-sized, and the two Arpaks looked ridiculous, squatting on the low seats with their wings splayed out over the floor like overgrown feather-dusters.

  Ashley was still pale and his eyes were fever-bright, but the dried blood had been cleaned from his head, and his eye was no longer puffy. The hand holding the mug seemed stable and strong again.

  He smiled at Jordan, and his brown irises were soft as he looked at her. "Thanks to you," he croaked. His eyes fell to her bare forearm, where the Elven glyphs looped around the limb. One brow picked up with interest. "I didn't suspect you to be the tattooed type."

  "How do you feel?" Jordan asked, ignoring his personal comment.

  "A little bit like I have the flu, but doc says it'll pass by morning, and I should be as good as new. Maybe a little tired, but much better."

  Jordan's eyes dropped to his side where he was swaddled with the blanket.

  Ashley moved the blanket aside and lifted the white linen shirt to show Jordan where he'd been stabbed.

  "Wow!"

  The wound was nothing more than a thin pink line of scar tissue that looked to be already several weeks healed.

  "You're a wizard!" Jordan said to the healer, who was packing his tools and instruments into the trunk.

  He looked back and winked at her. "Not wizard. Simple magic from botanics south of Skillen. I import." He closed the trunk and got to his feet. "Am the only one in Maticaw who can do this work," he nodded his oversized head toward his patient, "without Elf magic." He shrugged modestly. "It not perfect, but it is good. And much cheaper."

  He snatched up the small bag into which he'd deposited Jordan's gold coins and shook it at her. "Thank you for business." He shoved his small spectacles up his nose and put a pinky finger into his ear, twisting it and winking like a dog getting a good scratch. "You stay until your clothes are dry and storm goes. There is broth on fire, there." He pointed to the cauldron hanging over the small but cheerily crackling fire. "Help self to."

  "Thank you." Jordan watched the Dwarf healer waddle to the exit.

  "He need rest," he said from the door. "Take him home. Let him sleep few days. Good as new." And with that, their host slammed the door and left the twins alone.

  "I don't know how to repay you," said Ashley, taking another slow sip of the hot drink. "I mean, I will. The gold is not a problem, but…" He took a breath in through his nose. "You had no reason to help me. In fact, you had good reason to leave me alone in that alley and let me bleed to death." He looked her full in the face, his mouth a line of misery. "But you didn't."

  "I'm not like you, and… and Jaclyn," Jordan stuttered over her mother's name. "I would have done it for a stranger, let alone my own flesh and blood."

  Ashley's eyes shuttered closed for a long moment. When he opened them, they were nearly as pained as they'd been in the alley before he'd collapsed. "I don't want to be like Jaclyn, either," he mumbled.

  These words surprised Jordan into momentary speechlessness, which was followed rapidly by a healthy dose of skepticism. "This had better not be some sort of trap."

  Ashley rubbed a hand over his weary face. "If it is, it's a damn poor one. Why would I get myself beat up and stabbed just to trap you? I didn't even know you were in Maticaw."

  He was right. If it was some kind of trap, it was a ridiculous one that had yet to reveal the punchline.

  "You said you had something to tell me?"

  "Did I?" Ashley looked thoughtful.

  "Right before you passed out in the alley." Jordan got up and took a mug from the set of hooks hanging over the fire, and ladled herself some broth. She sat down again, looking at Ashley expectantly. "You also said Jaclyn tried to have you killed. Is that true?"

  Ashley nodded and his gaze dropped to the floor, but not before Jordan caught the line of moisture gathering along his lower lids. He brushed at his eyes angrily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She sent a goon after me." He let out a long exhale. "Jaclyn doesn't like being questioned."

  "What did you question her about?"

  "Everything. All her motives over the last several years. I've been following her blindly, just the way she raised me to. The only reason I dared question her at all is because an Elf enchanted me to." He looked doubtful about this even as he said it. "Or something."

  "An Elf?" Jordan let out a disbelieving laugh. "Are you serious?"

  Ashley nodded. "One of the ones from Charra-Rae. You know it?"

  "Yes, I know it." Jordan's eyes narrowed. "Did she have red hair?"

  Ashley's face paled, and his eyes widened. "No. Who is this redheaded Elf? Jaclyn asked me the exact same thing!"

  Jordan grunted and took a sip of her broth. "One of the more devious Elves on Oriceran, I suspect. If she wasn't redheaded, then I'll wager she was gray. And beautiful."

  Ashley nodded. "That sounds like the one."

  "Pohle." Jordan breathed out the name with wonder. So there was an Elf that Sohne allowed out of Charra-Rae. Jordan didn't know what the gray Elf's talents were, but she didn't doubt that Pohle was important to Sohne, one of her right-hand Elves. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Why would Sohne send Pohle to enchant you?"

  "Who is Sohne?"

  "The redheaded Elf, but nevermind about her right now. What did Pohle say?"

  Ashley scratched his head. "Do you know, I can't really remember? But after the encounter, I knew that there was something in the basement of the trade office that I needed to see. And more importantly, that Jaclyn has not been truthful with me about my identity."

  "Your identity?" Jordan bristled. "What do you mean?"

  Ashley let out a long sigh and stared at his sister. "Our mother is a wonder."

  "That's an interesting word for her. I might use ‘disappointment’, ‘sociopath’, or ‘power monger’. Take your pick."

  "All this time," Ashley continued, without reacting to Jordan's stream of consciousness, "I thought that Prince Diruk and Jaclyn were scratching one another's backs because they were on the same side."

  "They're not?"

  Ashley shook his head. "Jaclyn is planning to betray him when the time is right. All this time, I thought she was bending to his will because once on the throne, he would be able to give her the position she wants."

  "Which is?"

  "Master of four p
orts." He numbered them on his fingers. "Skillen, Operyn, Maticaw, and Vischer. No one person, let alone a woman, has ever achieved this; the ports have always had one master each. Jaclyn has already shown that she doesn't care about the flow of goods, even medicines needed by the people."

  "A monopoly on trade?" The implications of this were evident. Monopolies on Earth were never good for the people, and it would be no different on Oriceran. If Jaclyn could control the flow of goods, she'd be more powerful than any monarch. That kind of power in the hands of someone with so little regard for life would be frightening. Jordan's forearms swept with goosebumps.

  "Yes. But Jaclyn's ambitions are far greater than that," Ashley went on, his expression still incredulous about what he had learned.

  "She wants to see Diruk take the Rodanian throne?" Jordan guessed, thinking back to when she'd seen the prince stalk from her mother's office. Since the two of them were allied, it would only make sense that Jaclyn would want her partner in crime to be as powerful as possible.

  Ashley gave a laugh with no humor in it. "She cares about putting someone on the Rodanian throne. But it's not Diruk."

  Jordan gave her twin a confused look. "Who else could it possibly be?"

  Ashley looked at her, his mouth a sober line, his expression grim. "Me."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jordan and Ashley raced over the Rodanian Sea, riding high on gusty thermals, their eyes squinting against the bright light reflecting off the water below. The Dwarf healer had told them Ashley needed rest, but the situation wouldn't allow it. Since he had no intention of ever going back to Jaclyn, his choices were to be left behind to convalesce in some Maticaw bed and breakfast, or to accompany Jordan on a breakneck journey back to Rodania in an effort to save the king.

  Ashley didn't hesitate, and they left as soon as the wind and rain had died down enough to make it possible.

  Jordan had stolen many secret glances at her brother––his freshly shaven face still jolted her, the similarities she found there to her own bone structure. They shared Jaclyn's chin and cheekbones, her high brow and generous bottom lip. She had felt his eyes on her also, and wondered what was going through his mind.