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

  Jacob rolled his eyes, but breathed a sigh of relief. At least the Lorkon had covered their tracks.

  That evening, Dad had Jacob gather everyone at Kenji’s house. Matt had refused to hand over the Key—he wanted to be the first person to test it out—so Dad held an already-scheduled meeting a day early.

  As soon as everyone was greeted and updated, Dad motioned for Matt to begin.

  Matt pulled the Key out of his pocket, and the others crowded around him to see. It didn’t look a thing like the Key of Kilenya, which surprised Jacob. He’d been expecting them to have the same design. But this one was more angular, more masculine, and it had an oval-shaped piece of dark rose-colored glass in the top of the handle.

  Dad was the first to settle back into his chair. He looked at Matt. “Did it make any noise or shine any lights when you took it out of the box?”

  Matt shook his head. “It didn’t do anything.”

  “Too bad we don’t have the container anymore,” Aldo said. “They’re made of rare and precious metals.” At the expression of annoyance on Matt’s face, he rushed to continue. “But very good thinking on your part. Keitus is bound to be upset about this.”

  Gallus took a deep breath. “I agree. And there will be repercussions.”

  Dad frowned. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  “There always are when things don’t go their way,” the black man said. “When Jacob got away last year, they sent spies everywhere. You’ll remember I had to put bars over all the windows in the shop.”

  “Well? Can I test it out?” Matt asked.

  Dad shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  Matt sprang to his feet, rushed to the door, put the Key in the lock, and said, “My home in Mendon.” He turned the Key and opened the door, showing Taga Village on the other side. Matt frowned and looked back at everyone. “Stupid thing probably only works for Jacob.”

  Jacob shook his head. “Why would it? It’s been stuck in Canada for a long time, and hasn’t ever been around me.”

  “Here, I’ll try,” Mom said, joining Matt by the door. She had the same results. “Maybe it’s broken.”

  Aldo chuckled, grinning broadly. “This is fantastic. We always assumed the Keys functioned the same way. What a silly thought!”

  “What does it do, then?” Aloren asked.

  “Not sure,” Aldo said. “But I’ll start researching.”

  Jacob leaned forward in his seat. “We don’t need to do any research. We could just go ask the person who created it.”

  The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that break a few rules?”

  Jacob took a drink from his cup. “Akeno and I have been able to talk to Onyev about a lot of things that would ‘break the rules.’ My feeling is that my abilities don’t work exactly the same with him—he alters them in some way. Possibly because he’s a full-blooded Makalo patriarch. Besides, I don’t have to tell him we’ve got the Keys. And I’ll still be prevented from doing stuff that would ruin future events.”

  Dad nodded. “Yes, let’s have you talk to Onyev.”

  Mom handed the Key to Kenji. “For safe keeping—until we need it.”

  Someone knocked at the door, and Akeno jumped to answer. It was Mr. Coolidge. He strode into the house, ducking somewhat to fit under the doorjamb. He scanned the group, and then his eyes rested on Dad. “You asked me to come and give a report?”

  Dad motioned for Mr. Coolidge to have a seat. “Yes, and we’re ready for you. Go ahead.”

  Mr. Coolidge pulled his chair in close and leaned his elbows on the table, clasping his hands. “The higher-functioning people are doing really well and are eager to learn how they can help. It’s become quite a challenge, trying to keep things organized, and I’d like to know if it would be all right if I chose an assistant. I’ve already got someone in mind.”

  “That’s perfectly fine,” Dad said.

  Just then, a Minya flashed into the room. She zoomed to the table and hovered over the center of it. “Message from Bezza.”

  Everyone looked at Gallus. Bezza was his wife.

  He leaned forward. “Go ahead.”

  “The Lorkon have just sent runners to Macaria—and Macaria only—with a decree. Doors in that city from this point forward are deemed illegal. All citizens must destroy theirs immediately. Citizens have twenty-four hours to do so, or the Lorkon will ensure their destruction.”

  The Minya flitted away, leaving a long silence after her. Jacob met eyes with several people in the room: Aloren, Matt, Akeno, Gallus. The colors swirling in the air around them varied from confusion to shock to anger.

  Gallus broke the silence by clearing his throat. “This poses a problem. Only twenty-four hours? That’s insane.” He slouched back in his chair, folding his arms. “I won’t get rid of my trap door. I refuse to comply with their stupid requests.”

  Mom put a hand on his arm. “But if the Lorkon end up killing everyone in your town, is it worth it?”

  Gallus shrugged her off and pushed back from the table. “I don’t care! I won’t be told what to do!” He strode back and forth, the color red bright around him, and said some things that made Mom blush and look at Dad, her eyebrows raised.

  No one else said anything. They were probably as shocked as Jacob at Gallus’s outburst.

  Finally, he turned to the group. “I usually keep it covered, anyway. They won’t know.”

  The colors swirling around him showed he was calming down. After a moment, he returned to his chair and apologized.

  Dad motioned to Jacob. “Where is Early these days? Have you been using her?”

  “Yes. She came with me to Toronto.”

  “We’re going to need her to spy on the different cities of Gevkan. She won’t be allowed in Maivoryl or most of Fornchall . . . but Ridgewood and Macaria—we want her to keep an eye on the people there. Have her spend most of her time scouting out those areas and watching for Lorkon spies. Also tell her to let us know when and where doors begin disappearing.”

  The Fat Lady tucked a wayward strand of hair behind one of her large ears. “I suspect doors are already being taken down.”

  “We’re going to have to act fast, then,” Dad said. “Word will probably trickle to the other cities, and I wouldn’t be surprised if people in those places also got rid of their doors, just in case.” He released a long breath of air. “We need to do something about this before every opportunity has been closed to us.”

  He looked at Aloren. “Time to visit an old friend of yours.”

  Chapter Six: Eachan

  Eachan awoke to the sound of the town hall’s front door opening and closing. He raised himself to his elbows, wincing as sharp pain spread down his arms. He tilted his head, listening. No one had access to the town hall. No one but him.

  Voices drifted from downstairs. At least two men, maybe three, and one woman—or was that a girl’s voice?

  “Hello? Eachan?” a man called out.

  “Just a moment,” Eachan said, wondering who it might be.

  He groaned, taking stock of his body. He was still sore after last night’s “session.” He shook his head, then carefully rolled over and moved the bed covers.

  It took several minutes for him to slide his feet over the side of the bed. Then he focused on sitting, then standing.

  Mornings were the hardest—his body was never ready to move quickly.

  Eachan shuffled across his room to the bedroom door. He’d installed a lock there, hoping the extra barrier would keep the villagers out.

  It took him a few tries before he got his fingers around the thing, ignoring the searing pain that shot up his fingers and along his arm. He twisted, twisted, twisted the lock a fraction of an inch at a time. Finally, he pulled the door open and moved across the hallway and slowly down the stairs.

  He nearly stumbled on the last couple of steps when he saw who’d entered the town hall.

  Jacob. Jacob! The human boy the Lorkon wanted so desperately!

  The kid was surroun
ded by three other people: an elderly man whom Eachan recognized from King Roylance’s circle. He couldn’t remember the man’s name. Then Dmitri. The king himself. Eachan immediately dropped to his knees, ignoring the sharp resulting pain. He felt tears pool in his eyes, which surprised him. Why, when all these long years he had sworn loyalty to Keitus, would he feel this way? Such embarrassment, such shame.

  King Dmitri clasped Eachan’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Eachan,” he said. “There is time for sorrow later.”

  Eachan nodded, wiping his eyes. Such silliness, those tears. Duana would have been ashamed.

  Then he saw the fourth person. “Aloren?”

  She nodded.

  “Oh, Aloren, Aloren.” He pushed aside the pain in his weary body and stumbled to her, putting his arms around her. “I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

  She held him, then pulled back. “It’s all right, Eachan. Everything is fine now.” The concern in her eyes magnified as she took in his current state. “But what has happened to you? You’re . . . You’re—”

  “Deformed?” he said bitterly. “Yes. The Lorkon don’t take well to traitors. Sanso had some time with me . . . He meted out my punishment.”

  “But these burns are fresh!”

  He nodded. “And my sins against Keitus were great.”

  “We have made a mistake in coming, then,” King Dmitri said.

  “No, no. Their punishment only cemented in my brain the choices I’d been starting to make, the changes that had already been occurring.”

  “Then you’ll help us?” Aloren asked.

  “As best I can. I only still live because the Lorkon have no way of controlling the villagers.”

  “Why do they need controlling?” the older man asked.

  “Because they’ve grown in aggression. They attack anyone who enters the village, aside from me.” Eachan took a deep breath. He hated saying it, but King Dmitri and his people needed to hear what was going on. “And I’m sorry, but I can no longer have anyone stay in the town hall for protection.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Jacob said, speaking for the first time. “We only need you to do what you’re already doing: work with the villagers.”

  Eachan cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  King Dmitri turned. “Aldo, why don’t you tell him your idea?”

  The elderly man strode forward, an excited expression on his face. “I know that many of the villagers here are beyond use—meaning, they’re not mentally capable to help us. But I’m positive that some of them would, with medication, regain their memories and capabilities. And after everything the Lorkon have done to them, they’d assist us in the war.”

  Eachan twisted one side of his mustache. He took his time responding. “I don’t think you’ll find any support with them.”

  King Dmitri sighed. “I’m guessing that’s correct. Nevertheless, we’d like to try.”

  Aloren momentarily touched Eachan’s arm. “Aldo and his friend are developing a medicine for the people in this city to make them whole again.”

  “It’s important to note, however,” Aldo said, “that we won’t be able to fix those who have physical problems.”

  Aloren nodded. “But for the villagers who are only mentally deformed, it will work.”

  King Dmitri paced in front of the door, hands behind his back. “We’d like to assist you with finding people who would benefit from this.”

  Eachan’s heart flopped. “And turn against the Lorkon.”

  Aloren nodded. “It’ll be dangerous—very dangerous.”

  Eachan backed up, pulled a chair close, then sat. He searched the eyes of the others in the room. They looked desperate, but eager and confident. He felt his mustache twitch and raised a hand to it again.

  “Take your time,” King Dmitri said. “Go ahead and think it through.”

  Eachan snorted. “Think it through? I don’t need to—I already know I’ll help wherever possible. I just have to recognize all the very creative ways in which the Lorkon will punish me. My death will be . . . interesting.” He glowered at the floor. “They’ll slowly skin me, then roast me alive. Feed me to the villagers.”

  “That doesn’t have to happen,” Aldo said. “We’ll pull you out of the city before they discover your treachery this time.”

  Eachan didn’t respond. A shiver crossed his shoulders, then went up his neck and across his scalp, almost making his teeth chatter. A part of him wanted to believe that was true, that he could trust these people. But he knew better. No matter how positive they seemed, he couldn’t be saved. Wouldn’t be saved. Not in the end. He deserved everything the Lorkon had done and would do to him.

  Eachan looked Aloren in the eyes. “You loved my Duana.”

  “Yes.”

  “And this is something she’d have me do.”

  “Yes.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I struggle so. I made the decision a long time ago when I helped . . .” He motioned toward Aloren, then took a deep breath and turned to Aldo and King Dmitri. “All right. Tell me what to do.”

  Aldo clapped his hands, looking for a moment like an excited small boy. “We need you to search through the city and find people who match our profile. That is, those who struggle mentally, but are fine otherwise. We’ll check back with you frequently.”

  Eachan nodded. “That shouldn’t be too hard. The villagers are eating with me in the town hall again.”

  Aloren raised her eyebrows. “They are? How’d that come about?”

  “They refused to eat unless I invited them in. For some reason, they no longer trust me unless they can see me. I have to eat what they eat.”

  No one responded, and after a brief pause, Jacob motioned to the door. “Should we go?” he asked his father.

  “Yes.” King Dmitri turned to Eachan. He offered his hand once more, but this time in a sign of agreement. “Thank you for your help. How much time will you need to gather, say . . . five villagers?”

  “A couple of days, probably. I’ll need time to convince them to come—they won’t stay willingly after feeding time.”

  “We’ll return soon.”

  Just before Aloren followed the others through the door, she threw her arms around Eachan. “Thank you.”

  His throat choked up and he patted her back in response.

  Chapter Seven: Leaving Macaria

  As soon as Jacob returned from visiting Eachan, he Keyed himself to Taga Village to find Akeno. It was time to go visit Onyev. Jacob strode across the meadow, about to climb the village wall, when he heard someone squealing. He turned, one foot still in a toehole in the stone.

  Fubble the Wurby was racing toward him on all fours, crossing the ground incredibly fast. His feet were hidden, but Jacob suspected they’d been changed into something animal-ish.

  “Jacob! Oh, Jacob!”

  Jacob chuckled at the Wurby’s excitement. “Yes?”

  “New Wurby baby! You must see baby. Must approve!”

  Why would a new baby need Jacob’s approval? “What do you mean?”

  “It are custom! When new baby born, prince or king comes and say it good.”

  Jacob rubbed his eyes. He supposed it would be fine to spend a little time with the Wurbies before finding Akeno. “Okay. Show me where the baby is.”

  “This way!” Fubble took off in the direction of the gardens, and Jacob followed. It wasn’t hard to keep up—Fubble’s hands had turned back into animal feet, and Jacob could now see that they were cheetah paws. The Wurby started tripping and stumbling over them. He would plop down on his rear end and stare at his hands until they turned back to normal. Then he’d start running again, they’d change back to cheetah feet, and the whole process would repeat.

  Jacob was laughing so hard, tears streamed down his face, and he was glad Fubble didn’t notice. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with the Wurbies since they’d arrived, and it was fun to see them exhibit silly traits just like the Dusts.

  After several tr
ips and stumbles, Fubble finally stopped at a small hut near the first garden. “The baby are here! Are here.”

  Jacob hesitated, wondering if Fubble wanted him to do something. “Do I just go inside? Or . . .?”

  “Oh, no men. Only women. We wait.”

  They stood there for what felt like several minutes.

  “Do we need to tell them we’re here?”

  “I did.”

  Jacob scratched his ear. “When?”

  “Um . . . I didn’t.” Fubble smiled sheepishly. He clapped his hands, and a female Wurby stepped out of the hut with an angry expression on her face.

  “Fubble, you are be quieter!”

  “I are!” Fubble put his hands on his hips. “Woman, where baby?”

  She smiled broadly. “Inside! Inside!” She whirled, disappearing into the dark interior of the hut. She came out moments later holding a wrapped object. The female Wurby handed the infant to Jacob without hesitation and without asking if it was okay.

  Jacob nearly dropped the creature right away. He’d been expecting it to look like the last one, which had been weathered-looking, wrinkly, and slightly browned. This one was very red in color with nearly translucent, swollen skin. It must have just been born. Whoa. That really weirded him out, and he didn’t want to touch the thing anymore.

  Luckily, Fubble seemed eager to take the baby and Jacob handed it over, glad he was only required to hold the baby for a brief moment to “perform” what they expected of him. He hadn’t even noticed until now that the woman’s hand was still forming the baby’s diaper. Jacob cringed, feeling like he needed to wash his arms and hands. He would probably never get used to that part about Wurbies.

  Jacob left as soon as he could extract himself. He jogged back to the main section of the village and climbed up the canyon wall. Akeno was leaning against the ledge, talking to Jaegar.

  “Wanna go back to Onyev’s time with me?” Jacob asked once he’d found the Makalo. “I need to ask the patriarch about the Keys.”