Kilenya Series Books One, Two, and Three (2 page)

The decision was made. In an instant, he had hopped the fence and was racing through the forest, running as fast as he could into the darkness. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Matt grab Amberly and dash toward the house. Both wolves leaped over the fence and bounded after Jacob. Amberly’s screams were cut off by the slamming of the back door.

Jacob’s breath came fast, and his lungs were starting to burn. He dodged trees and darted through tight spaces and underbrush, looking back every so often in the hopes that he’d lost the wolves. There was no way he’d be able to outrun them.

He heard the wolves’ paws thundering on the ground behind him, and adrenaline shot through his veins as he realized how close they were. They growled and snarled, but didn’t leap. Jacob gripped his pocketknife tighter, not sure it would do any good, but wanting something—anything—to use to defend himself. The weight in his hand was comforting.

Stumbling onto a game trail, he veered a sharp right, knowing the tree house wasn’t far. The trail led him toward a small canyon. The moon offered just enough light for him to see, and he searched through the darkness for the correct tree. Why hadn’t they caught up with him yet? He risked another glance backward—they weren’t there anymore. Where’d they go? And where was that tree house?

The path became springy under Jacob’s feet, the bushes on either side of him thickening. The 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. Had he gone farther now than he’d ever been before? How was that possible? He and Matt had thoroughly explored these forests on numerous occasions. For a moment, hysteria 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 tripped, falling onto the rocks, knife flying through the air. Groaning and gasping in pain, he rolled over and squinted as lights flashed before his eyes, his head pounded, and his breaths came in short, shallow bursts.

After several moments, he propped himself up, moaning as something warm trickled down the side of his face. He touched the liquid and held up his hand. The exact color was hard to tell, but it looked like blood. A wave of nausea suddenly hit, and he put his head between his knees.

The sick feeling was soon replaced with panic, and Jacob hurriedly pulled himself to his feet. The pounding in his head nearly forced him back to the ground, but he leaned against a tree and bit his lip to keep from crying out.

Jacob’s mind became clearer with each breath he took, and soon he was able to straighten again. Blackness was everywhere and the path was overgrown—he couldn’t even tell which direction he’d come from.

Suddenly, the sensation that he was not alone swept over him once more. Something was watching him. A wolf? Or wolves? His muscles tensed and he held his breath. Could they hear his heart pounding? He didn’t move—maybe they would leave him alone. Small flickers of moonlight shone through the dense scrub oak, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine animals watching as the shadows danced around him in odd shapes and sizes. Something, either blood or sweat, tickled his forehead, but he didn’t want to move to wipe it away.

Something rustled in the brush. Jacob spun around, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head. There was a glint of light from a pair of eyes, followed by movement and a growl. As he gingerly took a step back, a bird startled from the branches behind, and he raised his hands to shield himself from its beating wings.

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

Then a growl came from what sounded like only ten feet in front of him. Should he run? How many wolves were there? The underbrush rustled again, much louder this time, then another long growl sounded, coming closer, and fast. Something was racing at him through the bushes.

Jacob turned and ran. Thistles snagged at his clothes as he sprinted, and a branch whipped him across the face.

As he struggled forward, he could sense the animal closing in from behind. Right when he thought it was over, he burst through the trees and fell into a moonlit meadow.

A huge tree stood in the middle of the clearing. He lurched forward, head pounding, guided by the moonlight.

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 and circled to the left, looking for a low branch to climb.

As he approached the tree, he was surprised to see a door in the trunk swing open, revealing 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 made a dash for the door.

The two black wolves, bigger than bears, raced across the clearing, followed by several smaller, gray ones. The two wolves in the lead tried to cut off Jacob’s escape from the right, but were too late. He scrambled through the doorway, swung around, and slammed the door shut just as the wolves came within leaping distance. Leaning into the door with all his weight, he pushed as hard as he could and heard the latch click just as the animals collided at full speed with a deafening thud.

He pressed his shoulder into the door a moment longer, hoping it would hold. It did, but he could still hear the wolves snarling and clawing to get in.

It was darker than coal inside the tree. Jacob put out his hands to feel around, searching for a way to bolt the door, but there was nothing but the knob. The inside of the tree smelled musty. It reminded him of woodshop class on the first day of school—the scent of projects from years long gone. Several seconds passed as he listened closely at the door—it was now quiet outside. The wolves must have left. Slowly, Jacob turned around.

Everything was completely silent. From the hollow sound of his breathing, the tree seemed spacious. He tested the air in front of him with an outstretched hand and took a step forward. He grunted when his shin bumped against something hard. As he bent down to rub the spot, blood rushed to his injured head. He was overwhelmed by the intense throbbing and, forgetting the pain in his shin, straightened and took some deep breaths.

Jacob couldn’t stay in the tree—he had to get back to help Matt with Amberly. Were they okay? What would Matt do if he were in Jacob’s place? He always knew the best way out of tough situations. He’d find a weapon—some way to defend himself. Jacob had to think like Matt. He put his hands down low in front of him, feeling his way in the dark until his fingers brushed against 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 he might not be alone. “Hello?” he called out.

Several seconds passed. 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 pocketknife. A little way past the chair, he found what seemed to be a bookshelf and shuffled 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. Perfect. Despite the disorienting darkness, he returned to the door without further injury. Stick in hand, he readied himself and pulled the door open slowly, an inch at a time.

Nothing happened.

A moment passed, then Jacob took a step through the frame. A growl alerted him right before one of the gray wolves jumped into view. He scrambled back into the tree and slammed the door shut, making sure it clicked again.

Breathing hard, he turned around, putting his back against the door. Stupid wolves!

He frowned, wiping the sweat off his brow. What were his options now?

He could go back outside and use the stick as a weapon. His heartbeat raced at the thought of that, making his head hurt even more. Could he face four or five wolves, exhausted as he was, 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? Trapped in darkness, there was no way he could be sure.

Or he could wait until morning and get some rest in the meantime. That was the most logical solution, given the circumstances. Jacob moaned in frustration and impatience, wishing he had a cell phone with him.

He was curious, though—why had the wolves chased him without attacking or even catching up to him? Maybe they weren’t hungry. And what on earth were wolves doing in this area anyway?

After a few moments, Jacob decided to try finding a more comfortable place to wait. He moved past the now-familiar table, chair, and bookshelf, and, in what felt like the middle of the room, found a larger table surrounded by four or five chairs. He slumped into one of the chairs. He felt around for 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 in his hands, trying to ignore the pounding pain. Thoughts of his family helped distract him. His mom and dad had gone on a week-long vacation to celebrate their twentieth anniversary the day before. They were 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—who had been running errands when the wolves arrived—was staying with Jacob and his siblings in the meantime.

Matt would take good care of Amberly. Jacob shifted his position. He was so relieved they’d made it back inside the house. They had probably locked everything up and would be okay even if the wolves came back.

While thinking, Jacob absentmindedly rubbed the surface of the table. It was smooth and warm and had obviously been used a lot. After a moment, he pulled his hand away, staring at the wood. It was getting warmer. Was that possible? No, of course not. He counted to thirty in his head, then touched the table with his index finger, and then his whole hand. It was cool. He’d obviously imagined the wood’s change in temperature.

Too tired to sleep sitting upright, Jacob lowered himself to the floor near the chair and stretched out, breathing in the warm aroma that was almost pine, but not quite. As eventful as the evening had been, he couldn’t imagine sleeping well, especially in a strange place. After a while, though, he was able to relax, and finally fell asleep.

But later, something startled him awake. A touch on his forehead—light as a whisper. He kept his eyes shut, trying to decide if he’d imagined it. He waited for a moment in the pressing silence, then felt a hand on his face.

Someone was in the tree with him.

Chapter 2. The Rog

I left the castle to meet Aldo and Ezra at the cottage. But when I arrived, I found that Ezra was dead. Someone had broken into the cabin and ransacked it. Aldo was nowhere to be found, and neither was his mother.

I spotted a piece of paper crumpled in Ezra’s hand. Several notes were scribbled on it: “Lorkon behind attack?” “What motive?” “Pregnant.” “Fury of the Elements.”

What is a Lorkon? And how will I know where to find my Arien?

I plan to return to the cottage as soon as I can.

Jacob jumped with a start, hands swinging, but it was too late. Nothing was there. The tree door opened, and he was momentarily blinded by the late-afternoon sunlight before the door shut.

“Hello?” Jacob called out. No answer. He shook himself, trying to get rid of the creepy feeling that surrounded him.

A roar from outside made him jump. Oh, no, not the wolves again.

He forced himself to calm down. Wolves don’t roar, and it didn’t sound very close. Maybe he had time to get away! He couldn’t stand the idea of being trapped again. Jacob raced to the door but jerked to a stop as soon as he’d swung it open.

The biggest bear he’d ever seen charged at top speed toward the tree—and it was coming straight for him.

Terrified, Jacob slammed the door shut, then backed as far away from it as he could. Bumping into a staircase, he dashed up a couple steps, and tensely waited for the impact. Only, there wasn’t one.

He could hear heavy breathing outside—it must be the bear. The knob shook . . . then jiggled a bit. There was a thump and Jacob froze, expecting the bear to break through at any second. Another loud roar, and the knob jiggled again. Jacob stared at it, wondering if the bear had the intelligence to figure it out. He hoped not. The crack of light around the doorway shifted as the bear continued looking for a way in.

The knob turned, the latch released, and the door swung open. Jacob straightened in fright. The bear roared, opening its mouth wider than Jacob thought possible. The largest set of teeth he’d ever seen dripped with saliva. Jacob stumbled backward, nearly falling, as he tripped over the edge of the step behind him.