The Key of Kilenya

  The Key of Kilenya

  Andrea Pearson

  Copyright 2011 Andrea Pearson

  Book design and layout copyright 2011 Andrea Pearson

  Cover design copyright 2011 James E. Curwen

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Summary: When two vicious wolves chase fourteen-year-old Jacob Clark down a path from our world into another, his life is forever changed. He has no idea they have been sent by the Lorkon—evil, immortal beings who are jealous of powers he doesn’t know he possesses—powers they desire to control.

  The inhabitants of the new world desperately need Jacob's help in recovering a magical key that was stolen by the Lorkon and is somehow linked to him. If he helps them, his life will be at risk. But if he chooses not to help them, both our world and theirs will be in danger. The Lorkon will stop at nothing to unleash the power of the key—and Jacob's special abilities.

  The Kilenya Series Continues:

  The Ember Gods (Kilenya Series, 2. Release: September 2011)

  August Fortress (Kilenya Series, 3. Release: January 2012)

  To Josh.

  This story was, is,

  and always will be

  for you

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1. Into the Woods

  Chapter 2. The Rog

  Chapter 3. The Key of Kilenya

  Chapter 4. Maple Syrup

  Chapter 5. Speed of Light

  Chapter 6. Infected

  Chapter 7. A Bucket Full of Nuts

  Chapter 8. Mud Bubbles

  Chapter 9. Minyas Up Close

  Chapter 10. Macaria

  Chapter 11. Grrr

  Chapter 12. Storm's a Comin'

  Chapter 13. Caves and Bones

  Chapter 14. The Fat Lady

  Chapter 15. Stone Barricade

  Chapter 16. Deformities and Eerie Lights

  Chapter 17. Breakneck Speeds

  Chapter 18. Bacon and Pancakes

  About the Author

  Pronunciation Guide

  Acknowledgments

  Back to Top

  Chapter 1. Into the Woods

  Journal Entry

  Would my father kidnap his own daughter-in-law? The castle has been attacked and ransacked. I suspect my father was behind it. We are trying to count how many are dead and missing, and I’m heartbroken because I can’t find the princess anywhere. Eight months’ pregnant with our first child—and such a difficult child to come by, after years of trial and loss.

  Aldo and Ezra have instructed me to meet them at their mother’s cottage nearly a mile from the castle. They believe Princess Arien was kidnapped and that her captors will demand ransom. What else would they want from the royal family?

  Jacob tossed his favorite hand-held video game onto his bed, then grabbed his basketball and dashed downstairs. He paused, glancing out the kitchen window to check on his six-year-old sister—still playing in the sandbox out back—then bolted through the front door, eager to take advantage of the last hour of sunlight.

  “Hey, I wanna shoot too,” Matt, Jacob’s sixteen-year-old brother said, popping out from under the truck he’d been working on in the garage.

  “Fine, but I really need this practice. So give me a challenge.”

  “Don’t I always?” Matt said, then laughed.

  They played a quick game of one-on-one with Jacob barreling past Matt, constantly staying at least fifteen points ahead. His last three-point shot won the game for him, and he bent over, hands on knees, panting.

  “Yeah, well, I can still beat you at football,” Matt said with a grin.

  Jacob laughed, then tossed the ball to Matt. “Here. You need to practice more.”

  “You still trying out tomorrow?”

  “’Course—I have to.”

  “Uh-huh.” Matt glanced at Jacob, holding the ball under his arm. “You know . . . letting Kevin win at something might not be a bad thing. ‘Sides, you could both make it.”

  “No, we couldn’t. You know Coach—he’s not going to let two fourteen-year-old guys on Varsity.”

  A rustle in the trees next to the driveway made Jacob look that way. It sounded like a large animal or a person. “You hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Matt was back by the hoop again, throwing the ball up into the net.

  Jacob motioned for Matt to stop, and took a step closer to the trees, squinting to see better. The sun had set, though, and the brush was too dark. “Hey, turn on the light. I think something’s in there.”

  Matt’s footsteps faded, then light flooded over the cement of the driveway, casting weird shadows into the forest. That wasn’t much better.

  “Hello?” Jacob called.

  Matt came back and stood next to him for a moment. “Nothing’s there, man.” He dropped the ball at Jacob’s feet. “I’m gonna go work on the truck some more.”

  Jacob reluctantly picked up his ball and started shooting again. After several satisfying swishes, he forgot the sound, picturing himself on the court at Mountain Crest High School, playing in front of Coach and the Varsity team. He had to make it. He just had to. He’d never live down Kevin’s teasing and Coach’s patronizing glances of pity if he didn’t.

  Thirty minutes later, he dropped his basketball, trapped it, and pushed it with his toe toward the open garage door, watching it roll up the driveway. It bounced off the tire of the truck where Matt worked. Jacob was ready for tomorrow. He could do this—he really could. He just had to make sure he got plenty of sleep that night and was warmed up before tryouts began.

  “Matt,” he called into the garage, “we need to get Amberly inside and to bed.”

  A grunt came from under the truck, and Jacob pushed his hair off his forehead. He wondered what his mom would do if he bleached the tips while she was gone.

  Leaves rustled in the forest to his right again, a twig snapped, and he jerked that way. A large form shifted in the moonlight, then froze when he looked at it. Light flashed across a pair of eyes almost level with his. He’d been right—something was there! The form moved again. It was too bulky to be human. Jacob stepped back, fumbling for his pocket knife he kept there out of habit. Nothing that big lived in this part of the mountains.

  A scream raked the air—Amberly!—and he nearly fell over, stumbling away from whatever was watching him from the forest.

  “What’s going on?” Matt asked, scrambling out from under the truck.

  “Amberly—back yard!”

  They raced around the garage and jerked to a stop when the sandbox came into view, lit by the back-porch light. A large, black wolf stood over Amberly, who was sobbing, cowering with her chin pressed to her chest. It sniffed her hair and clothes, then growled at Matt and Jacob. Footfalls sounded behind them, and they whirled—another huge wolf lurked near the forest edge.

  “What do we do?” Jacob said under his breath.

  At the sound of his whisper, both wolves growled. The one closest to Amberly lifted its nose into the air, then took a couple of steps toward the boys. Jacob almost stopped breathing as he waited to see what the wolf would do. Intelligent green eyes locked with his. He tried to look away, but couldn’t. Neither wolf paid attention to Matt as he edged toward Amberly. Jacob wondered if he should follow, but something in the wolves’ demeanor made him stay in place.

  The gentle August breeze ruffled his hair. Both animals sniffed the air; then stiffened. The wolf near Amberly snarled and took a few steps in Jacob’s direction, then both leaped forward, bolting straight for him.

  Matt ran for Amberly, and Jacob made a quick decision—his only escape route was through the forest behind him. A small fence separated the yard from the trees. In a split second, he hopped it and raced into the forest, looking back. Matt had grabbed Amberly and dashed to the house. Both wolves jumped the fence and loped after Jacob, and he ran as fast as he could. He heard the back door slam, and Amberly’s screams were cut off.

  Jacob’s breath came fast, and his lungs began burning. He dodged trees and darted through tight spaces and underbrush, hoping to lose the wolves. There was no way he’d be able to outrun them.

  The wolves’ paws thundered on the ground behind him, and adrenaline shot through Jacob’s veins as he realized how close they were. The predators growled and snarled, but didn’t leap at him. He pulled out his pocket knife, not sure it would do any good, but wanting something—anything—with which to defend himself. The weight in his hand was comforting.

  Stumbling onto a game trail, he veered to follow it for a moment, hoping to maintain his distance from the wolves. The trail headed in the direction of a small canyon. The moon offered just enough light for him to see, and he searched through the dark forest for a place to take shelter. Why hadn’t the wolves cau
ght up with him yet? He risked a glance backward—they weren’t there anymore. Where’d they go? He continued running a minute longer, just in case they showed up again.

  The path became springy under Jacob’s feet, the bushes on either side of him thickening. A rich smell of old wood assailed him, and he looked up in surprise. The aspens and evergreens had given way to maples and magnificent oaks—trees he’d never seen in this forest. Was he farther now than he’d ever gone before? How was that possible? He and Matt had thoroughly explored these forests several times. For a moment, panic nearly overcame him. He started to look for markers, familiar trees, other paths—anything so he could find his way back.

  Jacob’s foot caught on something and he fell forward, his head smacking on rocks, the knife flying from his hand. Groaning and gasping in pain, he rolled over. Lights flashed in front of his eyes as he squinted, his head pounding, his breaths coming in short bursts.

  After several moments he pushed himself up, moaning when something warm trickled down his face. He touched the liquid and held up his hand. Without light he couldn’t tell the exact color, but it looked like blood. Nausea hit him in waves, and he put his head between his knees to control it.

  Panic came, replacing the sick feeling, and he pulled himself to his feet. The pounding in his head nearly forced him back to the ground. He leaned against a tree and bit his lip to keep from crying out.

  Each breath helped clear Jacob’s mind, and he was able to straighten again. Blackness was everywhere, and the path was overgrown—he couldn’t even tell from which way he’d come.

  Suddenly, the sensation that he was not alone swept over him once more. Something was watching him. Was it the wolves? His muscles tensed. He held his breath. Could they hear his heart pounding? He didn’t move—maybe they’d leave him alone. Small amounts of light flickered from the moon through the dense scrub oak, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine animals watching as the shadows formed weird shapes around him. A bit of blood or sweat tickled his forehead, but he didn’t raise his hand to wipe it away.

  Something rustled in the brush. Jacob turned his head, ignoring the throbbing pain. The glint of light on a pair of eyes was followed by movement and a growl. Taking a step back, he startled a bird from the branches to his right and raised his hands to shield his face from the wings.

  A wolf howl pierced the still air, answered by a closer howl. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t get his throat to function.

  A growl came from a yard or so in front of him. Should he run? How many wolves were there? The underbrush rustled again, much louder this time, then another long growl, coming closer, and fast. Something was racing at him through the bushes.

  Jacob turned around to run. The thistles snagged his clothes and skin as he passed through them, and a branch whipped him across the face.

  An animal chased behind him as he struggled forward. Right when he felt it was about to reach him, he burst through the trees and fell into a moonlit meadow.

  A huge tree stood in the middle of the clearing. He lurched up and ran to it, head pounding, guided by the bright moon.

  As Jacob got closer, he was surprised to see that the tree was as big as a house. It was old, and its branches were large and twisted, without a single leaf. He ran toward it as fast as he could, looking for a low branch to climb, circling to the left.

  Before he reached the tree, however, a door in the trunk swung open, showing a hollowed-out interior. He stumbled in shock—a door in a tree?—but then let his breath out in relief. This was better than climbing. He changed course and ran for the door.

  The two huge, black wolves raced across the clearing, followed by several smaller, gray ones. The black wolves tried to cut off his escape from the right, but too late. Jacob scrambled through the door, swung around, and slammed it closed just as the wolves reached leaping distance. Leaning into the door as hard as he could, he heard the latch click shut right when the animals hit the wood.

  It was darker than coal inside the tree, and he had to feel around for a moment, searching for a way to bolt the door. There wasn’t anything—just the knob. He held his shoulder against the door a moment longer, waiting to see if the handle would hold. It held, but he could still hear the wolves howling and clawing to get in.

  The tree smelled musty, and it reminded him of the way wood-shop class always smelled on the first day of school—projects from the year before long gone, but their scents remaining. Several seconds passed while he waited for his eyes to adjust and for the wolves to leave. It was completely silent in the tree, and the room seemed spacious. He tested the air in front of him with his hand and took a step forward.

  His shin bumped against something hard. He grunted, bending to rub the spot, and blood rushed to his head. The intense throbbing made him forget the pain in his shin and he straightened, taking deep breaths. The wolves must have stopped trying to get in—it was now quiet outside.

  What would Matt do if he were here? He always knew the best way out of tough situations. He’d find a weapon—some way to defend himself. Dizziness hit Jacob when he turned too fast, but he didn’t wait for it to pass this time. Instead, he put his hands down low in front of him, feeling his way in the dark until his fingers brushed against something. It was a short, small table. A table? Obviously it was unusual to find a tree with a door in it. But furniture?

  Then it occurred to him that he might not be alone. “Hello?” he called out.

  Several seconds passed with no response.

  Moving as quickly as possible, he found a small chair next to the table and lifted it to see if it would work as a weapon. It was too awkward, so he resumed his search, wishing he hadn’t dropped his pocket knife. A little ways past the chair, he found a bookshelf and moved around it in frustration. There had to be something he could use!

  Finally Jacob’s hands wrapped around something that felt like a walking stick, and he took it from its place against a shelf. Perfect. Despite the disorienting dark, he returned to the door without further injury. Stick in one hand, readying himself, he pulled the door open an inch at a time.

  Nothing happened.

  A moment passed, and then Jacob began moving out of the tree. A growl alerted him right before one of the gray wolves jumped into view. He ran back into the tree and slammed the door shut, making sure it clicked again.

  Breathing hard, he put his back to the door. Stupid wolves!

  He frowned, wiping sweat off the nape of his neck. What were his options now?

  He could go back outside and use the stick as a weapon. His heartbeat sped up at the thought, making his head hurt even worse. Could he face four or five wolves, suffering like this and with nothing but a stick to defend himself? Probably not.

  He could wait for a while until he was sure the wolves were gone, but how would he know they’d really left? In the darkness, there was no way to verify it.

  Or he could wait it out until morning, getting some rest in the meantime. That was the most logical solution, given the circumstances. Jacob moaned in frustration and impatience.

  He was curious, though—why hadn’t the wolves attacked him? Maybe they weren’t hungry—they’d only chased him. But why? And what on earth were wolves doing in this area, anyway?

  After a few moments, he moved past the small table, chair, and bookshelf, wanting to find a more comfortable place to wait. In what felt like the middle of the room, he found a larger table surrounded by four or five chairs, and slumped into one of them. He felt the cut on his forehead, being careful not to touch the actual wound. It must have stopped bleeding, thank goodness.

  Leaning forward, he rested his head on his hands, trying to ignore the pounding pain. Thoughts of his family helped to distract him. His mom and dad had gone on a week-long vacation to celebrate their twentieth anniversary the day before. They’d be staying in some remote cabin halfway across the country and wouldn’t have cell phone service almost the entire time they were gone. A neighbor was supposed to check on Jacob and his siblings in the meantime.

  Jacob and Matt were in charge whenever Mom and Dad went on one of their frequent trips, and Matt would take good care of Amberly. Jacob sighed. He was so relieved Matt and Amberly had made it back inside the house. They’d probably locked everything up and would be okay if the wolves came back.