Ascendant: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Kacy Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  Ashley carried her over the docks and past the beach, where the sea cradled the coast. The port of Maticaw and the safety of its civilization, was far behind them now. Below them was a shield of mossy rocks and scrubby trees. The branches of the gnarly trees all reached back toward the forest, looking for all the world like they'd been trying for years to get off the windy, barren coast.

  Jordan heard the sound of a blade being drawn. Terror fueled her body and she clenched her jaw so tight it was surprising she didn't crack any molars. Using every ounce of energy she had, she jerked sideways into a barrel roll. Ashley's grip on her clothing broke. One of her sodden wings slapped across his face and chest, knocking him sideways.

  Jordan gasped as the sensation of falling clutched at her stomach. Pain burst through the back of her head and streams of fire scraped along her spine and the arches of her wings as she hit the rocks and skid, her legs flipping once over her head. She slammed up against a tree and received a hard poke in the back. Jordan wanted nothing more than to lie still and wait for the pain to pass, but the sound of boots running along rock screamed at her to rise.

  Her bruised and scraped body hurt with every breath, she suspected she might have lost some of the feathers on the tops of her wings, for they burned with a searing pain.

  She disentangled herself from the tree, stretching her wings out wide to feel if they still worked. As she got to her shaky legs and straightened, a fresh sheet of rain swept across the rocks. A form materialized through the driving drops. Ashley was striding toward her, a long two-sided blade in one hand.

  He's going to kill me. Jordan's hand fumbled for her own knife, and she yanked it free of its sheath. Her wrist throbbed and her fingers felt numb; she could barely feel the blade, and she sure couldn't clench it tight. She held the blade out in front of her, shaking. Water ran over her face and down the back of her neck. Her hair hung down into her eyes and stuck to her cheeks, and she thrust it back with her free hand.

  Ashley raised his blade, almost upon her.

  Time slowed and Jordan clearly saw the man's eyes, his expression. He was going to kill her, but there was a repugnance in his eyes—like he was dreading ending her life. Perhaps that was something she could use.

  "Ashley," Jordan cried out, the knife quivered in her loose grip. "Please, don't do this!"

  "I have to," he answered immediately, his voice full of passion and torment. "I'm sorry."

  "No, you don't." She staggered backward as he advanced, knowing she'd be dead before they even crossed steel. "I'll go away and never come back."

  He actually seemed to consider this, but in the span of the same breath, he rejected it. "Don't make this harder," he gritted out. He reached out to grab her. "I'll make it quick."

  Jordan stumbled and fell back on her tailbone. When she tried to get to her feet, her legs refused to obey. She faced her attacker, holding her blade up.

  Ashley loomed over, blade raised.

  A small silver thing appeared in the flesh of his shoulder. Ashley looked down at the blade protruding from his skin. He didn't cry out in pain or stumble back screaming; just looked at the knife, trying to work out how it had gotten there. Blood blossomed around the blade like a flower in the fabric of his soaking shirt.

  Jordan looked into the dark, scrubby brush and in the crevices of the rock slabs, expecting to see that Sol had magically finished his delivery in record time and come to find her.

  But the broad mercenary that materialized from the shadows like a wraith, his great wings tucked tightly behind him, and his dewclaws framing his face, was not Sol.

  "Toth!" Jordan cried out, never so happy to see anyone in her life as she was to see the Nycht mercenary. She crawled out from under Ashley's reach as the Arpak straightened, lifting his hand to pluck the blade from his shoulder. Blood was now streaming from the wound down his arm. Ashley tossed the blade onto the stones, where it made a wet pinging tumble.

  Toth reached Jordan and bent to help her up.

  "Why are you always in trouble?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Ashley, who had just unsheathed a second blade. The expression on Ashley's face was one of weary annoyance. Instead of making one easy kill, he now had to make two, and the second one didn't look like it was going to come easy.

  "That’s a fair question," panted Jordan, standing on her own two feet and bubbling over with relief. "If we live through this, will you please teach me how to fight?"

  Toth's brows shot up. " ‘If’?" His eyes, dark in the dim light of the rainstorm, darted to Jordan's face and then back to Ashley, who was pacing in the distance as though waiting for their duel to begin. "You have doubts?" Toth unhitched a loop of chain from his waist and held it out from his body. A spiked iron ball dangled from the end. He began to swing it to and fro.

  "No." Jordan gulped. "But do you think we could just let him go?" It didn't matter that Ashley had scared the living crap out of her, or that her body was aching from top to toe. Relief at being rescued filled her with generosity. She didn't want to see anyone's blood spilled, even Ashley's.

  "That depends on him," Toth replied. The spiked ball began making deadly circles at his side. Toth's eyes were locked on Ashley.

  Ashley tucked his chin down and glowered. He sheathed one of the blades and reached behind his head to retrieve the axe fastened to his back that Jordan had no idea was even there.

  Jordan's hands flew to her face. "Oh, this isn't good."

  "I'll meet you at a pub in Maticaw called The Silver Pony," said Toth quietly. "Go on. You don't want to watch this."

  "I'm not leaving you!" Jordan shouted. "Are you nuts?"

  "Jordan—"

  The rest of Toth's sentence was swallowed up by a roar so loud, it made Jordan clap her hands over her ears.

  Blue dropped out of the sky and landed on the rock in between Toth and Ashley, his head down low and his wings spread wide. The reptile was small, but with his teeth bared and his eyes alight with fury, he was terrible to behold. He made an awful hissing rattle and took a few steps toward Ashley, his back to Toth and Jordan. His body language said that Ashley was soon to be barbecue. Blue was making those same strange sounds he had made before he’d roasted the harpy earlier that day.

  Toth put an arm across Jordan and pushed her back behind him, his body tense and half-crouched. "Dragon?" Toth hissed in surprise.

  "It's Blue!" Jordan yelled, slapping her palm on Toth's shoulder rapidly and repeatedly with excitement. "He's mine!"

  Toth gaped. "That thing is with you?"

  Jordan nodded and grinned like a fool, still so relieved that today was not the day she would meet her maker. "He's really sweet—"

  Blue roared again, and a long tongue of hot flames jetted from his mouth. The fire consumed a nearby tree and licked out towards Ashley. The Arpak staggered back, his eyes squinting in the light; he threw a forearm up against the heat. A line of small fires crackled and hissed under the rain, sputtering out. Spirals of steam drifted up from the smoking trail leading away from the dragon as the rain beaded and ran down Blue's scales.

  Jordan's eyes adjusted after the bright burst of light, searching for Ashley. Her predator was nothing but a faint, flying form in the distance.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The two Strix barely spoke after Ashley had flown away. Jordan's joy at being rescued (again) by Toth was soon replaced by shock. The first order of business was getting dry and fed, and dressing Jordan's wounds. She had abrasions on the back of her head and the tops of her wings. Every muscle in her body had begun to stiffen. Toth half-carried Jordan through the streets with a supporting arm under her wings, hooked around her ribcage. With the rain driving down on them, and Blue flying overhead and screaming (almost laughing) about how easy it had been to scare away that Arpak, Toth led Jordan to a hideaway tavern. Located on a side street just off the boardwalk and with a very small, easy-to-miss sign, The Silver Pony was warm and cozy and smelled of stew, wet wool, and damp leather. They'd collapsed at a table. B
lue had curled up underneath it, snugged against Jordan's feet.

  Jordan and Toth now sat hunched over two gigantic bowls of goulash in the dim yellow light of the tavern. Jordan’s hands were both bound with bandages, after Toth had patiently plucked multiple slivers from her tender flesh and tied up the bandages in a way that allowed her to use her fingers. Her body still trembled from the chase and she dropped her spoon several times. Toth shot her concerned glances but didn't say anything about her quaking hands.

  "Where did you get the dragon?" Toth asked after he'd finished his bowl of food and pushed it aside.

  "Accidentally," Jordan said, her eyelids drooping. "He imprinted on me the last time I was in Maticaw."

  Toth grunted. He knew about dragon imprinting. It was rare, but it happened. His eyes trailed to the wings arching over Jordan's head.

  "Nice wings."

  Jordan's eyes flashed to his face. "I didn't know. The Elves that helped Sol told me I was an Arpak descendant." Jordan took another slow bite of food. The muscles in her shoulder creaked as she lifted the spoon.

  "Bit of a surprise for you?"

  Jordan almost spat out her mouthful of goulash as she laughed. "That's the understatement of the century," she said around her food. She put down her spoon, swallowed and wiped her mouth. "What are you doing here? How did you know I was in trouble? The Conca is miles from here. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled." Her eyes met his. "I'd be a corpse by now, if it weren't for you."

  "I didn't know you were in trouble," Toth replied, lacing his fingers on the table. His eyes darted about the dim tavern, scoping out the patrons, watching for Ashley or any strangers discreetly, or not so discreetly observing them. But The Silver Pony was benign and sleepy on this stormy night. Patrons were draping wet clothing out in front of the fire and hanging soaked hats on the hooks before tucking into a meal. Friendly conversation and laughter provided pleasant background noise, covering up Toth and Jordan's conversation. "Your friend Eohne came to visit me."

  Jordan straightened with surprise and then winced as the movement sent shooting pains down the muscles on either side of her spine. "Eohne? You know her?"

  "I do now." Toth looked at Jordan thoughtfully, weighing his next words. If I tell Jordan that her father is in trouble, she'll want to go running after him immediately. After what she's been through, she is in no shape to go anywhere tonight. Then again, if I wait to tell her, she'll be upset with me for it. Toth decided he could handle Jordan's anger.

  "How did she know I was in trouble?" Jordan took another slow bite. "Elf magic?"

  "Something like that," was Toth's cryptic reply. "I'm going to see about getting a room." Jordan opened her mouth to ask him to explain further but he was already gone, striding toward the bar. He leaned an elbow on the counter and began to talk with the bartender.

  Blue's nose hooked under Jordan's ankle and he propped up her bare foot with his head. Jordan's boots and socks were drying by the fire. Jordan peered under the table into the gloom. Blue's shining eyes stared up at her from under her ankle. He somehow gave off the impression of remorse.

  "It's alright, Blue." Jordan reached her fingers down to stroke his nose. "You saved me." Jordan felt eyes on her and looked up to catch Toth staring at her from the bar and frowning. He looked away. "You and Toth both did," she amended. She went back to her meal and put away the rest of her goulash.

  With her stomach full and without Toth to distract her, Jordan's mind drifted to her meeting with Jaclyn. None of it made much sense. Why would Jaclyn send her mercenary to kill her own daughter? Was the fact that she was masquerading as 'Jack' a critical enough secret to end an innocent woman's life over? The predacious way Jaclyn had analyzed Jordan's face, the way those calculating brown eyes had swept her with cool detachment, made Jordan shiver. She scraped her damp hair back from her face and realized that her face was wet with tears. She rubbed the moisture away and took a steadying breath. She wished again for Sol's presence.

  Toth returned to the table and sat across from her. "Are you going to tell me who that was and why he wanted to kill you?" He rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward, all ears.

  "His name is Ashley," Jordan answered, wiping another errant tear from her cheek. "He works for my mother, that's all I know about him."

  "Your…" Toth's eyes clouded with unease. "Your mother? You found her, then?"

  "I found her."

  "And?"

  "And she sent her guard to kill me."

  "I've gathered that. Why?" Toth lay his palms up on the table.

  "I have no idea." Jordan sniffed. Her nose had begun to tingle. "All my life I've been told what a sweet, kind-hearted woman my mother was. When she disappeared, my father poured every resource into finding her. She never left a note or any other clue about where she'd gone or why. All this time, I—" Jordan cleared her throat, which was beginning to feel scratchy. She took a drink of water from her cup. "I thought maybe she'd been taken, or she was in some kind of trouble. There had to be a good explanation for why and how she left."

  Toth waited while Jordan blew her nose into her napkin. Jordan’s voice was growing raspy, stuffed up sounding.

  Jordan shook her head, a harsh line formed between her brows. "So my mother is a b-bitch." Another hot tear tracked its way to her chin. She hiccoughed and brushed it off with the kerchief, the movement full of annoyance. "I won't fall apart for her," she said fiercely, tucking the kerchief away. She gave three violent sneezes in a row, and Blue was up on the bench in a flash, his chin in her lap. She pulled the kerchief out again.

  "I'm glad to hear it," praised Toth, feeling like he was watching a hand-knit sweater unravel before his eyes. "But you might fall apart if we don't get you to bed. You can tell me the rest of the story tomorrow. Come on. I've got you a room."

  Jordan got to her feet, wincing at the stiffness gathering in her muscles. "Feels like rigor mortis," she muttered.

  Toth went to the fire and gathered up their wet things. Draping them over his arm, he returned to the table, pulling a key from a pocket in his vest.

  "What about you?" asked Jordan, swaying unsteadily. Her head had begun to pound.

  "Don't worry about me. I'm nocturnal. I'm going to do a bit of scouting while you sleep. If I'm right," Toth said, eyeballing her red nose and puffy eyes, "you'll sleep until noon. I'll catch some sleep in the morning."

  Jordan was too tired to protest. She followed Toth to the rear of the tavern, where they pushed outside and crossed an open courtyard. The rain had thinned to a light shower and dusted their hair with tiny beads. Blue ambled behind Jordan, keeping so close to her that he nearly tripped her.

  Toth unlocked one of three doors clustered together like a fleur-de-lis. They entered a cozy, whitewashed room with a double bed, two chairs, a water pitcher and bowl, and a small fire crackling in a hearth at the corner. A single window was open a crack, the evening's breeze drifted through the room as the door opened.

  Toth pulled the chairs so their backs were to the fire and draped their things over them to continue drying. "Get some sleep. I'll be back to check on you."

  "But you…" Jordan stood in her bare feet in the middle of the room. She was so tired she could barely talk. She felt like doing nothing more than crawling under the covers and crying herself to sleep.

  Blue crawled underneath one of the chairs, lay down on his tummy and peered out at them.

  "Use this to dry off," Toth picked up a towel hanging on a hook near the water pitcher and handed it to her. "I'll see if I can find some medicine for you."

  "Medicine? I'm not sick," Jordan replied hoarsely.

  Toth gave a half smile. "You're well on your way."

  "Do you know Cles, too?" Jordan put a hand to her temple.

  Toth cocked his head. "Cles?"

  "The apothecary. I never met him, but I remembered his name when Sol told me—"

  "Jordan?"

  "Hmmmm?" Her eyes drifted half closed. Her voice sounded like it was c
oming from between her eyes.

  Toth put his hands on her shoulders and walked her backward until she had no choice but to sit on the bed. "Sleep now. We'll talk tomorrow."

  "Okay," Jordan sighed, gazing at the pillow beside her with a dopy expression.

  Toth let himself out of the room and locked the door behind him.

  ***

  Toth stepped out into the cool, drippy evening. He passed back through The Silver Pony and made his way down the alley toward the docks. Mist had gathered fast on the streets of Maticaw after the rain had cleared. Droplets fell from lampposts and smeared dimly lit windows. The sounds of restless waves breaking on rocks filled the lower half of Maticaw. Dim lights from sailing vessels docked in port glowed with misty rings around them. Visibility closed in to a mere city block and shapes drifted in and out of the fog as people walked by—some of them greeting Toth as they passed.

  Fog didn't bother Toth. He was a creature built for the night and was even armed to deal with pitch-black, or blindness, if he had to. All Nychts were equipped with a secondary voice box capable of high-frequency sound output and ears able to detect sounds much too high-pitched for human ears. But Toth wasn't in need of sound waves on this particular night; he was more concerned about remembering how to use the little glass balls Eohne had given him to send a message to the Elf that he'd found Jordan.

  "Get to high ground," Toth muttered, recalling step one. "These things better work in foggy weather." Magical tools made Toth uneasy.

  Toth made his way to the end of the dock and took a flying jump from the rocks at the waters edge. His wings snapped out and he pulled for the sky, heading away from the water and toward the higher streets of the city. Below him, the fog swirled as his wings cycloned the air. Maticaw's lights became blurred clusters of faerie lights in dark alleys. The fog thinned as he climbed and now the city was made of towers and spires poking up through the mist. He made for a distant hilltop illuminated by the barely visible moons; a park, he assumed. He landed on the wet grass, his boots sliding over the uneven surface. There was nothing about Maticaw that was straight; the entire city was built on craggy steps of rock.