Kilenya Series Books One, Two, and Three (54 page)

And another. “I’m going back inside.”

The footsteps receded, doors opened and closed, and the voices became muffled, then gradually went away. The brothers waited several moments.

Nothing.

Jacob breathed a sigh of relief.

Matt shook his head. “That was close,” he whispered. “Too close. We should wait a few minutes more, just in case there are stragglers wandering around.”

Jacob nodded. The cut on his leg must not have been very bad, because it only stung a little now. Either that, or the fear of being caught surpassed the pain.

After a few more minutes, Matt sneaked toward the town hall. Jacob followed him and looked back—he couldn’t understand how the people hadn’t found them. The indentation he and Matt had created in the tall grass was very obvious. He would’ve seen their hiding place right away. Maybe these people had poor eyesight? He shook his head—no, he couldn’t count on that, even if it were true.

As soon as they’d reached the end of the grass, Matt and Jacob came to their feet and hid behind a large tree in the back yard of the town hall. Jacob looked around the side—there was a light on in one of the rooms, a warm, welcoming yellow. They decided to head to that window, ignoring the back door for now. Someone, at least, would hear them knocking there.

Jacob took a step forward, but stopped when a deep, gruff voice spoke behind him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Jacob turned. A tall, muscular man—nothing like the villagers—leaned against a tree not far from the brothers. His brooding expression and black, shoulder-length hair gave him an imposing appearance. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a action movie, and Tani would’ve fallen for him immediately. A light purple color, indicating boredom, surrounded him. Jacob’s eyes strayed to an interesting necklace the man wore. It was oddly shaped metal, and appeared to be on fire with blue flames. How was it not burning him?

“Just keeping watch . . .” Matt said. “Like we’re supposed to.”

“On whose orders?” The man crossed his arms, and Jacob noticed he wore black leather clothes. Two swords were strapped cross-wise on his back. His hands and feet were bare.

“Eachan’s,” Jacob said. “We’re . . . uh . . . watching the townspeople. Making sure they . . . don’t do anything stupid.”

The man raised his eyebrow and stared at Jacob, the light purple changing to a medium shade of purple. “I don’t think I believe you.” He put his arms behind him and strolled forward, stopping not far from the brothers. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I know just who you are.”

Jacob expected the man to bring out his swords, but he didn’t do anything, just stared at Jacob. A gust of wind brought a scent of smoke with it.

“And you shouldn’t have come to this place—not if you are as intelligent as the Lorkon seem to believe you are.”

“I have to. There’s a per—there’s something I need to get.”

The man cocked his head and half smiled at Jacob. “Oh, really? Pray tell—what is it you are searching for?”

Jacob wracked his brain, trying to decide what would sound the most legitimate. Matt was faster in his response.

“His lucky watch.”

Jacob looked at Matt and frowned. Lucky watch?

The man laughed, the light from the muted sun glinting off his perfect teeth. “Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what he’s searching for. A watch.” His face grew serious. “You are to come with me now. The Lorkon very much want to see you.”

Jacob shook his head, fear making him stutter. “N—no. I’m not going back to them. Ever.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” The man whipped his hands in front of him, and Jacob jumped back, expecting the blades. Instead, the man’s hands glowed bright red. Jacob’s eyes widened, and the man smiled at his reaction. “And that’s not the only unique thing about me.”

A burst of flames shot from his feet, licking up around his legs. He reached out, and an eruption of light came from his hands, the flame rolling up his arms and dripping off his fingers.

“I’m a Fire Turner, Jacob.” He shrugged in a mock-humble way. “An Ember God, as the villagers call me. You can call me that too—I’m sure you’ll agree sooner rather than later that it’s a fitting name. But remember, I am not to be toyed with. One touch of my hand will cause you more pain than you’ve ever felt before in your life.”

Jacob wasn’t sure what made him say it. “I doubt
that
. Nothing could be worse than what I felt when the Lorkon touched me.”

The man snorted. “Diseases aren’t anything compared to the pain of burnt flesh, I assure you.”

Matt fidgeted at Jacob’s side, pulling things out of his pocket. “Well, it’s been nice chatting with you,” he said, “but we’ve got to go now.”

The man laughed. “I don’t think so.”

Matt brought up his air pellet gun and a LED flashlight. He switched the light on, shining it in the man’s eyes, and shot him in the face with the gun. The man roared, grabbing his eyes.

“Run!” Matt yelled, and he and Jacob tore around the tree, heading for the lit window as fast as they could go. Voices came from the houses around the town hall as the brothers reached the back wall of the building and pounded on the window. The light went out. Someone grabbed Jacob from behind and he kicked backward, releasing himself. He whirled and gasped. Villagers surrounded the brothers. Hundreds, it seemed, still poured from the houses.

Jacob jumped to his brother’s side, punching someone away from Matt. They fought back to back, Jacob using the techniques Sweet Pea had taught him. He expected a burst of flame to engulf both of them, but it never came. Where was the Ember God? He wasn’t one of the attackers. Jacob looked back at the tree, trying not to be distracted, but wanting to know where the man had gone. There he was—leaning up against the tree, arms folded, watching. What was he doing? Waiting for them to be finished off?

Jacob returned to the fighting with renewed vigor. The people were so weak, he almost felt bad about returning their punches. He couldn’t count how many he’d knocked to the ground.

Finally he and Matt scared everyone away. He squinted, focusing on the tree. The man was no longer there. Where’d he go?

“Key,” Matt breathed. “Front door.”

They ran around the side of the town hall, jerking to a halt right before reaching the porch. A man was there, a large grin on his face. It wasn’t the same guy as earlier—this one had shorter hair. No shoes, black leather clothes. Another Ember God.

“I can’t allow you to enter this building.”

“Oh, we’re just leaving . . . so . . . don’t worry about us,” Jacob said.

The man sneered. “Really? Allow me to escort you.”

“No, thanks, we’re good,” Matt said. He didn’t wait to see what the guy’s reaction would be. He turned and ran toward the nearest house, Jacob on his heels. “We’ll go home, then come back in a little while,” Matt said in a whisper loud enough for Jacob to hear.

They almost got to the door when suddenly, the first Ember God was on Jacob’s right. He used the flat side of a sword to stop the boys. It hit them across the chest and they fell to the ground, gasping for air. The man smiled down on them as they struggled to their feet and tried to run away again.

“Time for this to end,” he said.

Before Jacob knew what was happening, the man brought the handle of his sword down hard on Matt’s thigh. With a snap, Matt’s leg crumpled beneath him and he howled in pain, falling to the porch near the door. Jacob dropped to his knees by Matt, then glared up at the man, anger and hatred making his eyes sting.

“You . . . jerk!”

“Jacob, you have two choices. Watch your friend die right now, or watch him die later, when the Lorkon take you both.” He stepped closer—close enough for Jacob to feel the heat rising from his hands. The Ember God sneered again. “Personally, I’d choose now, since I’ll be more merciful than the Lorkon.”

Jacob shook his head, trying to think up a way out of the situation. He did his best to control his voice, coming to a decision quickly. “I’ll take my chances with the Lorkon, thank you very much.”

He acted as if he were surrendering, casually putting his hands in his pockets. His fingers closed around the pocket knife in one hand and the Key in the other. He couldn’t use an air gun—the Ember God would be expecting that. The knife was the next best thing.

“As you wish,” the man said. He reached for Jacob’s arm, but Jacob jerked away from him.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’ll hurt you if need be.”

“Just—just hold on, will you?” Jacob helped Matt up, trying to keep the items in his fists from the man’s sight while also trying not to cause his brother too much discomfort. Matt’s face was white and he gasped, using the door behind him to steady himself.

Jacob put Matt’s arm over his shoulders, and put his own arm—the one with the Key in it—around his brother’s waist. “This is going to be slow, you know. He’s in a lot of pain, thanks to you.”

The man smiled, but took a step back, gesturing for Jacob to go first.

Instead, Jacob flipped the knife open and flung it at the man. It went into his shoulder.

The Ember God grunted with anger. Not waiting to see what would happen, Jacob turned Matt around, pushed the Key in the lock, and said, “Kenji’s house.”

He flung the door open and pushed Matt inside. Matt called out in agony when he landed on Kenji’s floor. A burst of light illuminated the door in front of Jacob, fire surrounded him, and a searing pain rushed up and down his back and legs—the Turner had blasted him with flames.

Screaming, Jacob pushed through the door and slammed it shut, then fell to the floor next to Matt. The last thing he saw was Kenji’s family staring at him from over dinner, light yellow with a hint of orange—the color of surprise—around their faces. Jacob heard someone say his name, then blackness closed in.

Chapter 11. Unpredictable Behavior

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what, Father?”

“Sanso’s voice.”

“No. I only heard pounding on the back window.” Duana was scrubbing the already-clean tables in the large receiving room.

Eachan walked to the window and looked out. Nothing was there. But wait . . . “Oh, there he goes—he
is
out there. Looks like he got into some trouble with the villagers. Serves him right.” Eachan watched the Fire Turner for a few moments. Sanso walked with one shoulder lower than the other, and held a hand to it. His facial expression showed he was in pain.

Eachan turned when Aloren entered the room, carrying a basket of clean clothing, which she plopped on the table and started folding. She and Duana conversed, and Eachan leaned against the wall to watch them. It was good to see Duana this happy again. She hadn’t had someone close to her age to talk to in such a long time.

His forehead creased as the argument he’d been going over and over again in his mind came back to him.

Aloren.

What was he to do with her? He knew his job—turn her over to the Lorkon. He needed to do it—he needed to keep his daughter safe. But by protecting Duana, he’d be taking away someone who was now becoming a sister to her.

He walked to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel. If he turned Aloren in, he knew the Lorkon would reward him. They always had. He’d be elevated in their eyes, especially if he could get important information out of the girl first. Knowing how much she cared for Jacob, they’d certainly want her now, to use as bait. And by handing her over, he wouldn’t have to worry as much about the safety of the town hall—the villagers wouldn’t try so hard to attack if they knew Aloren was gone.

On the other hand, if he presented her to the Lorkon, it would surely hurt Duana. He turned to watch her for a moment. Such happiness on her face. Could he really do that to her? She’d never forgive him.

But then again, if he didn’t turn Aloren in, the Lorkon would remove him from his status in the community, and would either order a public execution, or worse—turn him and his daughter over to the villagers.

He rubbed his face, recognizing the circular pattern his arguments were taking.

Duana laughed at something Aloren said, and Eachan was surprised to see a smile on Aloren’s face—a first. She had a dimple in her cheek, and he frowned. There was something familiar about her—she brought to mind a woman he’d worked with years and years ago.

He walked to the window again. The Fire Turner was wandering the streets. Eachan watched him for several moments, wondering how much time he had until the Turners figured out he was withholding information from them.

A group of four or five villagers came out of one of the buildings, ignored the Fire Turner, and limped toward the town hall. They stopped several yards away, and Eachan let the curtain fall until there was just a slit to peer through. The villagers were arguing, passing something back and forth between them. An old woman caught up with the group and took the object, putting it in her pocket. The group turned to face the town hall and Eachan stepped back, quickly shutting the curtain. Something on their faces made him afraid—something had happened tonight, when he heard Sanso’s voice. He was sure of it. Something bad.

He walked to the table where Duana and Aloren had finished folding the clothes.

“Let’s go into the kitchen,” he said. “We can do the dishes.”

The girls walked ahead of him, talking animatedly about something. They didn’t hear the bang on the door—a noise which frightened the wits out of Eachan.

The villagers had never,
ever
hit the door of the town hall. And they rarely returned this soon after feeding time. What was going on? Eachan couldn’t ignore this unpredictable behavior. He closed the door to the kitchen, putting his back against it.

The girls didn’t notice his nervousness, and he ignored them, straining to listen through the door. Hoping the villagers would leave. Give up their objective.

Eachan found himself again thinking over what would happen if the Lorkon discovered his secret. He straightened. He would do his job—his duty—where his family was concerned.

But when it came to handing off innocent girls to be used as bait, then brutally tortured and killed—that wasn’t something he could stomach.