Eyes of the Sun (Kilenya Series, 5) Read online

  Jacob took Mr. Coolidge directly to the cabin where Kevin and Aloren were teaching English. He opened the door and poked his head in. The two teenagers were at the front of the room near a whiteboard. “Mr. Coolidge is here.”

  “Sweet!” Kevin said. “Let him in—we’ll get started right away.”

  Jacob stepped to the side so Mr. Coolidge could enter. He was tempted to stay, but he had to finish practicing, using the sun. He hoped his math teacher would be successful. And that he wouldn’t freak out too much when he figured out the truth—as would eventually happen. There wasn’t any way a secret this big could be kept from someone as intelligent and perceptive as Mr. Coolidge.

  Jacob ate a fast lunch and went upstairs to his room. He stared at the sun for ten seconds, then lay on his bed—his favorite place for Time-Seeing. He went through the now-familiar steps and the room around him disappeared, replaced by the last place he’d seen Ramantus.

  Deciding he would figure things out better by going forward rather than in reverse, Jacob started his Time-Seeing at the point where he’d left off, when Ramantus was a boy.

  Ramantus’s childhood was unremarkable. He didn’t do anything that Jacob would consider important. It wasn’t until his early teens that something in him seemed to snap. He developed an urgency in everything he did: chores, conversations, studying. Ramantus began staying up late poring over books, taking notes, and writing letters. Jacob tried to read along with Ramantus, but it was all in a different language.

  Ramantus had been working as a farmhand for an elderly couple. They treated him well—acted like he was their own. When he first started there, the couple was in good health, but it didn’t surprise Jacob that their health declined rapidly after employing him.

  Jacob turned his Time-Seeing eyes away when Ramantus killed the couple and took over the farm. No one noticed. The couple had withdrawn from the nearby village, sending Ramantus into town whenever they needed anything, so the villagers were used to seeing him instead of them.

  Ramantus married and quickly had several children. Again, Jacob shied away from watching as Ramantus sold the young children. His wife disappeared and Ramantus continued his studying and letter writing.

  Jacob watched as, over the next couple of years, Ramantus lied, stole, and murdered his way into positions more powerful than the previous ones. He married frequently, following the same path as before—having children and selling them, and then using the money to appear wealthier. Jacob wasn’t sure what was happening to the wives, and he didn’t want to know.

  When Ramantus was probably in his mid-thirties, he moved to a new village and made the acquaintance of someone who looked like a magician.

  Their conversations were serious, and whenever they were together, Jacob slowed down and paid close attention. He was disappointed at first to find they weren’t speaking English. But even with the language barrier, he was still able to gather information.

  Their first meetings were spent bartering—Ramantus brought things for the magician, and the magician shelved them, a greedy glint in his eyes. For a while, Ramantus wasn’t happy about having to wait longer for what he wanted, but the magician kept asking for more things.

  After several meetings, though, it seemed they reached an agreement and things changed. They began studying books together, comparing discoveries, arguing occasionally, and taking notes.

  Then Ramantus prepared for a meeting that had him very excited. He jogged and smiled the entire way to the magician’s hut, and once there, actually hugged the other man.

  They sat, made small talk, then got serious. The magician pulled a vial from a small oven and turned to Ramantus, cradling it in his hands. He appeared to be protective of the thing.

  Jacob watched with interest as the man apparently tried to make sure Ramantus really wanted it. Ramantus was encouraging, the man doubtful. Then he sighed and returned to his seat, handing the vial over.

  “This is the answer for now,” Ramantus said. He held the small glass to his heart, eyes closed. “You’re my path to freedom and knowledge.”

  Jacob nearly popped out of his vision when he heard the English. It had been a while since he’d understood anything either man said.

  The magician acted confused—obviously he didn’t speak English. Then he motioned for Ramantus to drink it.

  Ramantus hesitated, surprising Jacob. For several long moments, he stared at the vial. He pulled out the cork and sniffed.

  “Such a price for two hundred extra years of life.”

  He downed the contents.

  Jacob bit his lip, watching, waiting to see what would happen. Ramantus seemed to be waiting as well. And when nothing occurred, he was severely disappointed. He began yelling at the magician in the other language and pulled out a knife. The magician held up his hands, begging, pleading, but Ramantus didn’t give him time to explain anything. He plunged the knife into the man’s chest and whirled, storming from the place.

  Nausea made Jacob’s eyes water and he fought the bitter taste at the back of his throat. He looked away from the gasping magician and forced his vision to follow Ramantus.

  Why would Ramantus go through all that trouble—months of meetings—just to kill the only person who was helping him? Obviously, the potion hadn’t done what he’d wanted, but couldn’t the magician have figured things out? It didn’t seem like the man was opposed to assisting. Surely they could have agreed on something.

  Jacob nearly stopped following Ramantus when he noticed a change about the king as he left the magician. His hair was at least two inches longer and he now had a beard. Ramantus hadn’t noticed yet. He stumbled through the streets of the village, holding his hand to his stomach, acting like he’d just been stabbed.

  Then he bowled over and retched across the cobblestone road. Jacob nearly threw up himself, but forgot his nausea when he saw that the lines on Ramantus’s face had deepened, and not only was his hair lengthening, but it was graying as well.

  The king was aging! He’d gained at least ten years since leaving the magician’s place. Was this the reason for the potion? To get older? But no—Ramantus himself had said the potion was supposed to give him another two hundred years of life. So what was happening now?

  By the time Ramantus reached his own home, he was hobbling, his face lined with pain. He gasped and fell before reaching the door, threw up again, and then lost consciousness.

  Jacob sped up time, watching in fascination as over the course of the night, on that front porch, Ramantus aged until he looked at least ninety years old.

  Then it occurred to him: Ramantus had given up youth to push death back. But why? Why would anyone want to live two hundred years in a crippled, twisted body?

  The next morning, his wife screamed when she stepped out the door and found him. He tried to explain who he was, but she wouldn’t listen. She grabbed a broom and hit him with it repeatedly.

  Wow. What a great way to treat an elderly man. Jacob shook his head. Things were really messed up back then on Eklaron.

  Ramantus hobbled off, and Jacob followed him in normal speed for a while before realizing it would take a lot of time before the old man found what he was searching for: the “recipe” for becoming a Lorkon.

  Jacob sped up his vision and watched as Ramantus spent a lot of time forcing his way up the ranks—shop owner, city council member—each time, gaining access to more and more secretive libraries and locations—cellars, dungeons, old ruins. Every time Ramantus found a new place, he’d spend hours and hours—sometimes weeks and even months—poring over the books and scrolls.

  The old man learned of Earth, as well as the world where Fire Pulsers originated. He found links to and from both worlds and to and from other worlds that Jacob didn’t recognize but hoped he’d be able to see. During this period, Ramantus learned about Troosinal—a kingdom on the verge of self-destruction.

  Finally, sometime after Ramantus became the mayor of a large city, he gained access to a library with a deep, dar
k dungeon. On the shelves of the dungeon, surrounded by half-rotted corpses and a couple of nearly dead prisoners, Ramantus found what he searched for: a scroll. It had dark brown fingerprints all over it.

  Ramantus dropped everything he held, including his torch, eyes glued to the scroll. He slowly unrolled it, eyes widening, and then he crouched near the torch.

  Jacob zoomed in closer, slowing time down in order to See along with Ramantus. The scroll was written partially in English and partially in other languages which Jacob had only seen while studying with Azuriah. But in English, the word “diseased” was written all over the scroll near the word “blood.” It took Jacob a moment longer to realize what the “recipe” needed: blood from many people with several different illnesses. The list was long—at least twenty diseases.

  As soon as he’d finished reading the scroll, Ramantus left the dungeons of the library and hobbled back to his house. That night, he stepped down as mayor and moved.

  In his new city, Ramantus began participating in social events. Jacob curled his lip in disgust when he figured out what he was searching for—a future wife. But which of these ladies would actually consent to marrying a withered, greasy, dishonest old man?

  Jacob began recognizing a pattern in the women Ramantus sought after. All of them had a strong sense of self—they knew who they were. An inner moral compass seemed to guide them, and that was what Ramantus apparently wanted.

  When it became obvious that none of the women in that village would have him, Ramantus deserted the village and traveled to Troosinal.

  Through deceit, murder, and many actions that Jacob didn’t want to watch, Ramantus gained the support of the majority of the noblemen and women in Troosinal. The people decided they wanted him as their king instead—they were attracted to his darker nature—and murdered the man who held the throne. Ramantus was crowned.

  He started a friendship with the royal family of Gevkan, traveling to and from the neighboring kingdom many times a year. He also spent a great deal of time with a prominent Shiengol family that lived in Maivoryl City.

  After many conversations, Ramantus was able to plant an idea into the neighboring king’s head: his son, Roylance, should marry a Shiengol. Ramantus and his friend spent a great deal of time deciding which daughter of the Shiengol family should become the future bride.

  Of the three daughters, they chose Ara Liese.

  Jacob narrowed his eyes, waiting to see how Ara Liese and Roylance would fall in love—if it would seem genuine. He was surprised that they hit it off right away with what appeared to be a true friendship. This friendship deepened into love. Maybe Ramantus had a gift for this sort of thing. After a couple of years, Ara Liese and Roylance were married.

  At that point, Ramantus abandoned his friendship with the neighboring king and turned all of his attentions back to finding a wife.

  Even though Jacob watched every movement of King Ramantus, he wasn’t sure how the old man convinced a beautiful, innocent, young girl to marry him. Her name was Edyta, and she was as pure as he was foul.

  When their courting, wedding, and honeymoon periods were over, Ramantus returned to Troosinal with his new bride.

  Over the course of several years, they had three sons and a daughter. Upon watching them as children, Ramantus immediately rejected the older two sons—they were cruel and disgusting, like their father. But his last two—Dmitri and a daughter with blue eyes—were sweet-tempered and kind as little children, and Ramantus obviously favored them.

  Having chosen his favorites, Ramantus then began watching the family of the neighboring kingdom with interest.

  It soon became apparent that Roylance and Ara Liese would only be able to have one child, a daughter named Arien. Jacob was then able to predict Ramantus’s choice: Dmitri would be heir to his throne.

  Ramantus suddenly changed course. He turned on Roylance and Ara Liese, then went about making his wife believe he detested them. They were too good—too unwilling to do the things he wanted. As a result, she started secretly spending a lot of time with Ara Liese, probably to rebel against him in some way. But the seed had been planted in her mind: Arien and Dmitri were perfect for each other, and it would upset King Ramantus to see them wed. Therefore, that was what Edyta would make sure happened.

  Unfortunately, Dmitri had started taking after his father. But, as Jacob already knew, that would resolve itself in future years.

  What Jacob couldn’t believe at first was the fact that Keitus was right. He really had created Jacob. Jacob felt sick about this. He loved his family. And that they all came about because of Ramantus made him tremble with anger. He couldn’t wait to get rid of that Lorkon!

  Chapter Four: Keitus’s New Potion

  The next day, Jacob reported his findings at a meeting with his parents, Kenji and Ebony, Aldo and the Fat Lady, and Azuriah.

  After he’d finished, he took a deep breath. “So, I saw it all happen. Keitus was correct: he did arrange everything.” Jacob leaned back in his chair and took a long drink from his cup of water.

  The adults around him showed little surprise, and Jacob figured it was because they were already used to the idea that Keitus was the instigator of so many things. They just needed it confirmed.

  Dad clasped his hands. “Thank you, Jacob. That is all we have to discuss in that regard.” He then turned to Azuriah. “What have you to report by way of the Shiengols?”

  Azuriah got to his feet and paced. “There are many things we must do and very little time to do them in. Our biggest project over the next month is to return Lirone, the sky monster, to his homeland. In order to do this, every living Shiengol must be present.”

  “Whoa,” Matt said. “Isn’t it gonna be hard to figure out where they all are?”

  Azuriah shook his head. “No, we keep track of the location of every Shiengol. The hard part will be convincing them to come. As you all know, I’ve been trying to recruit for several months now.”

  “Have you had any luck?” Dad asked.

  “Some. They’ll be arriving soon. And I have no doubt that eventually, I’ll be able to convince them all.”

  As was his fashion, Azuriah left the meeting before Dad had finished tying things up.

  Later that day, Jacob decided to see what the Lorkon were doing. Since he’d been partially deceived where Lasia was concerned, he hadn’t felt as inclined to watch. No one blamed him, but he knew they’d still appreciate him checking up on things occasionally.

  He Time-Saw to the castle and immediately discovered that something was wrong. He couldn’t see the throne room. And he tried going in from the sides, past the curtains, under the door—it didn’t matter what he did—that room and certain parts of the castle were no longer visible to him. Not only that, but he couldn’t find the Lorkon anywhere. Then it occurred to him that they were probably in the parts he couldn’t See. He’d just have to go back in time to find them.

  He returned to his room and dashed to the window to look at the sun for ten seconds. Hopping back on his bed, not waiting for the springs to stop bouncing, he quickly searched the castle over the past several days, watching for Keitus. When he found the Lorkon, he made the king glow.

  Jacob followed as Keitus wandered the halls, studied in the throne room, and ordered Molgs, Dusts, and the other Lorkon around. Then Keitus disappeared—Jacob couldn’t penetrate a part of the castle. He reversed again, this time by a week, then pulled away so he could See a larger section of Gevkan. Finally, a brief bit of golden light flashed in the Molg tunnels, showing Jacob where Keitus had gone.

  Jacob followed as the Lorkon king walked to Fornchall. It was weird to see him walking, but apparently, Sindons couldn’t fit in the Molg tunnels.

  When he got to Fornchall, Keitus went straight to a farming area placed up against a small mountain range where thousands of human slaves were mining and working the fields. Jacob watched as the Lorkon king waited to be noticed. A servant scurried up to him, bowing repeatedly as he approached. He gave
something to the king—a bowl full of greenery with bushy leaves and bulbous trunks. Weird. Maybe Keitus wanted a salad? Jacob recognized it as the same plant that grew in the Fornchall fields.

  Keitus laughed deviously as he took the bowl. Apparently, he really liked salad.

  He said something, and a bunch of servants rushed to follow him into a room of a nearby building. Keitus gave orders and a man took the bowl from him. This servant, and others, started breaking open the plant trunks one at a time and dripping liquid from them into cups. It took only seconds for them to go through the bowl of greenery, and there was barely any liquid in the cups. Someone then brought in a barrel full of the plants, and they got to work again.

  After they’d gone through the huge barrel, they only had half a cup of liquid.

  “More!” Keitus yelled, loud enough for Jacob to hear and understand, and the people rushed out and rolled in several more barrels. While waiting, Keitus turned to a man and made another command. The servant dashed out of the room, and Jacob backed his vision up so he could keep an eye on Keitus and watch what the servant did.

  The man ran through the fields as fast as he could, straight toward a mine shaft. He entered and Jacob lost interest in Keitus, wanting to follow the man.

  The lighting in the shaft wasn’t nearly bright enough, and it took forever for Jacob’s eyes to adjust. When they did, he saw that the tunnel was full of men with pickaxes and shovels. Many were digging at the sides of the tunnel with the pickaxes, while those with the shovels carried the excess dirt to a large, hollowed-out room with several huge storage bins. People were there, sitting on the ground, sifting through the dirt. The stuff that remained in their cloth sifters, they tossed aside, and the finer particles that had fallen through, they put in bags.

  The man opened one of the storage bins. He pulled out several small cloth bags. Someone tried to stop him, but he shoved the guy away, babbling in a different language. The other man lowered his head, then sat on the ground again, continuing his sifting of dirt.