Eyes of the Sun (Kilenya Series, 5)

by Andrea Pearson

  He spotted Aloren and Kevin on the other side of the gardens, finishing up their English class. Aloren glanced up and saw Jacob watching. He quickly dropped his eyes and resumed replanting and weeding his row, pretending not to notice as she walked over to join them.

  Aloren plopped down in the dirt and started weeding. Akeno looked at Jacob with an eyebrow raised and Jacob shrugged. He wasn’t about to question Aloren’s sudden interest in gardening.

  After several minutes of silence, Aloren grunted, tossing a handful of weeds to the side. “So, tell me about that Hayla woman.”

  Jacob stared at her. The colors swirling around her showed she was conflicted and not experiencing just one emotion. He had a hard time distinguishing the colors from each other. “Why?”

  “You knew each other in Troosinal?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. She worked in the laundry.”

  She kept her eyes down, yanking out plants that didn’t belong, probably damaging good ones too. “Back then, she was a lot younger.”

  “Yes . . .”

  “And attractive. I’m sure she was attractive. You flirted with her, didn’t you? I could tell by how you acted earlier.”

  Jacob’s mouth popped open. He couldn’t think of something to say, so he didn’t reply.

  Aloren kept weeding, again refusing to meet his eye. The colors swirling around her changed to a very bright red. Finally she turned to Jacob. “Look, it’s just weird, okay? She’s a lot older, but I can tell she’s totally interested in you.”

  “Whatever, Aloren. Why does it matter to you, anyway?”

  She snorted. “It doesn’t.”

  “Then why’d you bring it up?”

  “Forget it.” Aloren got to her feet. “I’ve got things to do. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Aloren stormed off and Jacob scratched his head, watching her go. Kevin watched her too, and put his arm around her when she reached him. She shrugged him off, putting her hands up, palms facing him, obviously not wanting him to bother her.

  “What’s up with her?” Akeno asked.

  Jacob only shook his head in response. At this rate, he’d never figure her out. “Come on—it’s time for your next training with Onyev.”

  When Jacob picked up Akeno from Onyev’s time, Akeno surprised Jacob with his excitement. He practically bounced as he walked next to Jacob through the streets of Gratitude City.

  “You’ll never figure out what Onyev and I discovered today!”

  “What?”

  “He said he was looking at things from the wrong angle—the same one we were looking from. We don’t need to get rid of them for now if we can slow them down completely.”

  Jacob glanced at his friend. “Uh . . . ‘them’ who? The Lorkon?”

  “The bugs, Jacob, the bugs! You know, the ones that affected the Kaede trees?”

  Jacob snorted. “Right, of course. How could I not know what you were talking about?” He shook his head. It had been a long time since anyone had mentioned those. “Okay, so start again at the beginning. What do you mean, we don’t need to get rid of them for now?”

  “There are a couple of plants that, when added to magical or medicinal potions, double the efforts of the potion. So, the stuff Aldo and the Fat Lady make will last for four months instead of two, and since the bud grows every three months, they’ll soon have a potion that is completely effective!”

  “Will the plants heal the Kaede Trees?”

  Akeno’s grin faltered. “No.” He took a deep breath. “Nothing will—not until we can kill the bugs off completely. Which means . . .”

  “Figuring out how to kill the Lorkon.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That sucks.”

  Akeno nodded.

  The friends walked in silence, ignoring the bright blue Makalos bustling around them. As soon as they were out of eyesight of other people, Jacob returned them to the present. He turned to Akeno. “So, we still won’t have enough Kaede Sap.”

  “Nope.”

  Jacob sighed in discouragement. No one had been seriously wounded lately, but it was hard not to forget what would happen without the healing sap.

  Chapter Nine: Burned Food

  Eachan peered out the window by the front door of the town hall. They hadn’t returned. So much time—too much time. He wiped his sweaty hands on his apron and returned to the kitchen.

  A familiar acrid smell drifted through the air, and Eachan muttered a curse under his breath. He’d burned the food. Again.

  If those stupid people didn’t come soon, more than just dinner would get burned. There were now five villagers trapped in the cellar, and the last time Sanso had come, he’d heard one of them. It had taken Eachan nearly five minutes to explain his way out of that situation. At least he’d had the forethought to instruct them to needlessly re-shelve the entire cellar. Pointless, but it kept them busy, and kept Sanso from getting too suspicious. Eachan would have to find something else for them to do, and soon.

  Why hadn’t Dmitri at least tried to contact him? All it would take was one twist of that Key and they could update him. Not only was he living in a perpetual state of pain and nervousness, but the villagers were starting to get suspicious. He took a deep breath, remembering what had happened to his daughter the last time that occurred.

  Hoping the villagers in the cellar would accept burned food, he shoveled it into a bowl and carried it down the stairs. They peered up at him through the bars covering the windowed door, and he motioned them away. Eachan quickly opened the door, dropped the bowl on the floor, and slammed the door shut, then leaned against it, waiting.

  Shuffling sounded on the other side.

  “Eachan . . .”

  He clenched his fists, trying to control his irritation. “Yes, Myler?”

  “Burned again. Why?”

  Eachan swore once more. “Because I’ve got other, more important things on my mind.”

  Myler cackled. “Sure. ‘Course. Like Sanso’s visits.”

  “Just eat your food.”

  He turned and climbed the stairs, taking an occasional break to give his sore legs time to recover. King Dmitri and his friends had better come soon. Eachan was exhausted from always playing this double role. And those villagers were getting grouchy.

  He rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and ran into a tall black man. He yelled, raising his hands to protect himself, and stumbled backwards, starting to fall down the steps. The man reached out and grabbed him, causing Eachan to wince at the pain in his arm joints as his descent jerked to a stop.

  “There you are, Eachan.”

  King Dmitri stepped around the black man and extended his hand. The black man helped Eachan right himself, and after several awkward seconds passed while Eachan carefully shuffled away from the stairs, he finally shook the king’s hand. Why hadn’t he heard them enter? Jacob stepped around the black man as well, grinning at Eachan.

  “I expect you’re here to retrieve the villagers I’ve collected?”

  King Dmitri nodded. “Did you have any problems?”

  “A few. They’re not happy to be held against their will, especially not for such a long time.” Eachan tried to keep the frustration he felt from leaking into his words.

  “I expect not. How many?”

  “Five.” Eachan eyed the black man. “You don’t have enough to help. The people I’ve gathered are dangerous and angry. They’re not happy being held in one place for any amount of time.”

  “Take us to them,” King Dmitri said.

  Eachan sighed. “Follow me.”

  He led the way around the corner, but paused before going down. Glancing back, he whispered, “I’m not going to tell them who you are. I don’t know how they’ll respond, and I think it’s best if we don’t find out now.”

  He turned and looked down. At the bottom of the stairs, the villagers leered behind the bars. They were done with their food already, and were probably curious about the voices they’d heard.

  As so
on as they saw the people above them, Myler and another man started shouting. The rest ignored the newcomers, either rocking back and forth or sucking their fingers, staring at nothing.

  King Dmitri nodded, then began discussing something with Jacob—Eachan wasn’t paying attention, however. He’d just noticed for the first time how similar Dmitri and Jacob were. Same dark hair color. Same body build—taller and somewhat muscular. Same tan skin. The only obvious difference was the eyes, with Jacob’s being bright blue and King Dmitri’s dark brown.

  Eachan should have known who Jacob was the very moment he’d seen the boy months ago. The only thing the Lorkon had told him was that a human boy of fourteen years might be approaching him, possibly looking for assistance—that this boy was important, that he’d be searching for a magical object, and that Eachan was to be as helpful as possible.

  Eachan tuned back to King Dmitri, who was asking his son to go get more help and to station a guard at the link to the village.

  Jacob left and a silence followed. Eachan rubbed his mustache, watching the other two men. King Dmitri stared at the wall opposite him, hands behind his back, his position showing that he wasn’t stressed at all. His confidence was admirable. The black man’s eyes kept darting back the way Jacob had gone and Eachan nearly chuckled. He didn’t blame the man for being nervous. Jacob, with his magical Key, was their only way out. Under similar circumstances, Eachan would feel and act the same.

  A sudden urge to report these people to the Lorkon hit Eachan, and he struggled to overcome it. He was so used to going to them anytime something happened that they’d want to know about. His muscles strained against the effort it took not to bolt up the stairs and to his room, where his fire beetles sat waiting. He only had a couple of them left.

  How long would it take for him to completely change from being the Lorkon’s tool to a free man? He shook his head, recognizing it might never happen. The hold they had on him . . . the drugs they’d used to help persuade him . . . might never leave his system.

  He found himself mirroring the actions of the black man, his eyes flicking to the doorway. He felt Dmitri watching him and resisted the urge to wipe sweat off his forehead.

  King Dmitri’s gaze felt like hot pokers, and sweat dripped down Eachan’s back as he tried to ignore him. King Dmitri was a good man, through and through. Eachan seriously doubted he’d ever done anything dishonest.

  Finally, Jacob returned. A few humans followed him.

  Eachan unlocked the bars at the foot of the steps, then flattened against the wall, expecting the villagers to rush upstairs. They didn’t, however, and Eachan raised an eyebrow.

  Myler was the first through the door. He halted and glared at Eachan. “Back to inflict more of your terrible cooking on us?”

  Eachan glowered. “Your actions over the past several months have erased any feelings of sympathy I might have toward you. You do realize my daughter did the majority of the cooking, don’t you?”

  Myler snarled. “Keep your stupidity to yourself.” He suddenly bit his hand, drawing blood, eyes flitting between the men in front of him, obviously watching for a reaction. Eachan ignored him, but King Dmitri and the others gaped in apparent shock.

  Eachan chuckled. “You did ask for the ones with mental problems, didn’t you? Well, good luck. Myler is as crazy as they come.”

  King Dmitri half smiled and took Myler by the arm. “This way, sir.”

  Myler looked back at Eachan as he passed. “Someone has better manners.”

  Eachan waited until they were out of sight and then blew out a breath in relief, feeling his shoulders sag. Myler was one of the most difficult villagers he’d dealt with, and he wasn’t sorry to see him go.

  The black man retrieved a frail woman with wild eyes and even wilder white hair. She clawed at the man, shrieking and kicking as he carried her up the stairs. He cringed, but continued anyway.

  Eachan watched as others took the rest of the villagers from the cellar. He shut the door, then followed them all back upstairs.

  Jacob created a link to the inside of what appeared to be a dungeon and they took their prisoners through the door, then returned to say thank you.

  King Dmitri put his hand on Eachan’s shoulder, and Eachan hid the cringe that nearly overcame him. He almost asked the king not to touch him, but held back. King Dmitri couldn’t possibly understand Eachan’s feelings of unworthiness. He pushed his thoughts aside and nodded when King Dmitri thanked him.

  “Are there others?” King Dmitri asked.

  “Yes. It’s difficult to gather them without causing suspicion, however. Since . . . since . . .” He motioned to Jacob. “Well, the Lorkon don’t trust me as completely. They’ve hired other spies, and I’m guessing you don’t want them being alerted to what you’re doing here.”

  King Dmitri shook his head. “No, indeed, we do not.” He appeared to release a great breath. “We’ll return when we’re ready for more.”

  Eachan nodded, then closed the door behind the king and his people. He waited a moment, then checked outside. Just the city. No Ember Gods. No king. No Jacob.

  He shut the door and sank into a chair. King Dmitri was lucky that this sort of thing came more easily to Eachan than it would to others. He’d played dual roles many times in his life. He only hoped the situation wouldn’t sour for him in the end.

  Chapter Ten: The New Girl

  Jacob and Dad stared at the people they’d just brought from Maivoryl City. “Man . . .” Jacob glanced at Dad. “I really hope they straighten up in the end. They’re . . . well, leftovers.”

  Dad smiled. “Not very kind, but I know what you mean.”

  Jacob turned to look at the villagers again. Dad had them put in the dungeon in Azuriah’s basement, behind doors with small windows. The people were weird and unstable, especially the one Eachan had called Myler, who acted like more of a leader than the rest. Dad decided to keep him separate from the others until he’d first, been given the medication, and second, had been monitored for a while.

  Jacob’s lip curled with disgust. Myler had spent the last several minutes biting his own arms and hands. He seemed to know it bothered people and watched for their reaction, then laughed when they acted upset.

  Jacob did his best to ignore him, but it was hard.

  Dad sighed. “Well, let’s call Aldo and the Fat Lady.”

  Jacob nodded. He pulled a container out of his pocket and opened it, releasing Early. “Tell Aldo and the Fat Lady we’re ready for them.”

  “Okay!” Early disappeared with a flash of light, then reappeared moments later. “They’re on their way.”

  “Good.” Jacob turned to Dad. “Can Early go play now? She’s been stuck in her container a lot today.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Early did somersaults in the air, patted Jacob on the cheek, then flitted off again, and Jacob pocketed her container.

  About five minutes later, Aldo and the Fat Lady entered the dungeon, carrying a table between the two of them. On top of the table were cups, bowls, and a wooden spoon.

  “We’ll finish mixing the medicine here,” Aldo said as they maneuvered the table to the center of the room near Dad and Jacob.

  He and the Fat Lady combined powders and liquids in the biggest bowl, using the spoon to mix everything, then poured the stuff into the small cups. Aldo rubbed his hands together.

  “We’re ready!” Eyes twinkling, he looked up at Dad. “Who goes first?”

  “Myler, right?” Jacob asked.

  Dad shook his head. “No, I think we need to try it on one of the calmer villagers first. Just to see what happens.”

  They picked a man who hadn’t acknowledged anyone or seemed to have even noticed he wasn’t in the same place anymore. Using the Key, Jacob opened the cell, then he and Dad entered, helping the man out. The Fat Lady held him down on the floor with one beefy hand while Aldo swirled the contents of a cup.

  “Jacob, take one of his legs and Dmitri the other,” he said.
>
  They complied, getting to their knees, and as soon as everyone was ready, Aldo poured some of the medicine into the man’s mouth. All of it dribbled out, staining his cheek green as it ran down his skin.

  Aldo frowned. “That didn’t work.” He reached to pour more in, but just then, the man spat at Aldo and started thrashing, knocking Jacob and Dad away.

  “Hold him tight!” Aldo shouted. “This isn’t going to be fun.”

  Jacob couldn’t help but notice that all the other villagers had left their cots and were standing at their doors, watching, even the quiet ones.

  “Uh, Aldo?” he said. “Maybe we should move the man somewhere else.” He motioned to the windows.

  “Too late now—they’re going to have to watch the whole process. Otherwise, we’ll never get them to take the medicine willingly. I’d rather not have to fight all of them.”

  He grabbed the man’s jaw and pulled it open, then poured more of the medicine in. Jacob and Dad held the guy’s legs down, having to use the weight of their bodies to keep him in place.

  The man spit the medicine out again, and for the third try, the Fat Lady plugged his nose while holding his chest down so Aldo could pour the last of the cup’s contents in his mouth. Aldo quickly jammed his jaw shut.

  Finally, the man swallowed. Right away, he fell limp, sagging against the floor. Jacob released his leg and he and Dad got back to their feet.

  “Now what?” Jacob asked.

  “It’ll take overnight to work, if it does,” the Fat Lady said. “Let’s grab his cot—we’ll have him sleep right here, where the others can see him at all times.”

  Jacob and Dad pulled the cot into the main room. “Someone will need to guard him, right?” Jacob asked.

  She nodded. “That’s what Aldo and I are here for.” She chuckled. “Aside from giving him the meds, of course.”

  The Fat Lady left and returned, carrying a huge duffel bag she’d brought to the village earlier when Jacob Keyed her there.

  “All right, we’ve got things covered,” she said. “We’ll let you know how it goes.”