Kilenya Series Books One, Two, and Three (61 page)

Ebony smiled. “Basically, yes. That’s the plan.”

“But anyone could come up with that,” Jacob said.

She shrugged. “Sometimes simple is the best way to go.”

The group entered the tunnel in the wall, everyone holding hands. Jacob steeled himself when the sunlight disappeared.

“Ebony and Sweet Pea, would you light up the tunnel?” He knew what he’d see. At least this time he was prepared for it.

Blue light shone on the walls around him, revealing the bodies—faces, hands—frozen forever in stone. He came to a halt, clamping his eyes shut, trying to control the panic. He
had
to get over this. Aloren—she needed him. She needed Gallus, and needed to be removed from that horrible city.

He looked forward, ignoring the feeling of lifeless eyes watching him, determination forcing him to take a step, then another. He could do this.

After several minutes, he paused. “How’re you guys doing?”

“Not good,” Ebony said.

He turned to watch them—she was right. They were really fighting to keep moving forward.

“You’re all doing great,” he said, trying to lift their spirits.

“Yeah . . . right,” Matt said, breathless.

Jacob struggled onward. He found himself adjusting to the feeling that people were staring at him, and he started to make good headway. Finally, he felt a draft of air on his face, signifying the end of the tunnel.

“Turn off your lights,” he whispered. “We’re at the end now.”

Jacob approached the last corner of the tunnel. He looked out the exit into the forest, and breathed a sigh of relief that no one was there. The others in the group stepped out of the tunnel, happy to be out of the dark. As Jacob turned to check on them, however, movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention.

A male turkey stepped out of the forest and strutted toward him.

“Uh . . . you guys have turkeys here?”

“Turkey?” Matt asked. “Where?”

Jacob pointed. “Right over there.”

Everyone stared where he had pointed, but they looked back at him in doubt.

“This isn’t good,” Jacob said. “If you guys . . .”

His suspicions as to why they couldn’t see it were confirmed when the turkey opened its mouth and roared so loudly, Jacob’s ears rang.

Gallus gasped. “A Bald Henry! Jacob, we need to go back into the tunnel—now!”

Jacob tried to remember what material Bald Henries destroyed first. Glass! But there wasn’t any around. He didn’t want to wait until the creature targeted the next material. “Grab my arms again! Hurry!”

He pulled the group into the darkness, almost tripping in his rush. He caught one last look at the forest in time to see at least five other turkeys step out of the trees. This made him run even faster, and the others had a hard time keeping up.

Jacob bumped into a wall, and asked Ebony and Sweet Pea to light up the tunnel. He didn’t know if the Bald Henries could follow, but the more distance he put between them, the better. It took half the amount of time to get through the passage this time.

“Now what?” Jacob asked once they’d reached the other side.

“We have to use the Key,” Ebony said, trying to catch her breath.

Jacob frowned. “Which means back to the Fat Lady’s, since that’s the nearest door.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you think the Lorkon knew we were coming today?” Jacob asked when they reached the scented air.

“If they didn’t before, they probably do now,” Sweet Pea said.

Gallus nodded. “I agree. The Bald Henries were most likely supposed to be guarding the entrance, and will somehow alert the Lorkon that we came through the tunnel.”

“Why could I see the Bald Henry this time, but not last?” Jacob asked.

“Maybe there’s something about the air in that city,” Ebony said. “It disgusted me, and we were only there for a few moments.”

“Whatever the Lorkon did to me when I was born really messed me up.” He couldn’t help it—a chuckle broke through his concentration.

“What’s so funny?” Sweet Pea asked.

“Nothing, really.” Then Jacob shrugged. “Bald Henries are turkeys! How ridiculous is that? Something so deadly is one of the silliest-looking creatures in the world. Or, in both worlds.”

Matt was the only one who laughed—the others didn’t seem to find this remotely entertaining, and Gallus even gave Jacob a disapproving glance.

“It doesn’t matter what they look like,” he said. “Only that they exist and are dangerous.”

Jacob turned to walk forward again. “I know, I know.” He allowed himself a quiet chuckle, though, still enjoying his little joke.

Chapter 17. Consequences

“Thank you . . . Eachan.” The voice was gravelly and deep. “We will come soon. Can we trust you to hold her there?”

“Yes, of course.” Eachan twisted one side of his mustache.

“Then we shall see you shortly.”

“H—how long?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Keitus drawled. “Two or so hours, perhaps.” He laughed, causing Eachan to cringe. “Why? Do you have somewhere you’d like to go?” More laughter, then the fire beetle in front of Eachan burst into flames, ending the conversation.

Eachan leaned back in his chair, resting his trembling arms on the surface in front of him. What had he done?

He pounded his fist on the desk, angry at himself for his moment of weakness. He’d done his job, that’s all.

But moments later, the doubt returned, and he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Eachan returned to the main room and leaned over the table where Duana and Aloren sat, conversing in hushed tones. The girls ignored the angry yells from outside. A sudden pain in Eachan’s chest made him catch his breath. Was it from the guilt? Or was this a real pain? He wasn’t sure.

“Father?” Duana said, looking up at him. “Father, what is it?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t meet her eyes—what would she say if she knew he’d practically thrown her new friend to such disgusting creatures as the Lorkon? And what would she say when he explained he had done it for her? Would she believe him? He turned away.

“Nothing . . . It’s nothing.”

She pulled him back. “Have you been crying?”

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m fine. Just—just thinking about your mother again.”

She nodded. “Let me get you a bowl of soup—there’s some left.” She disappeared.

Eachan avoided looking at Aloren. She’d most likely see the betrayal in his eyes. And why was he thinking of it that way? He hadn’t betrayed her—he’d done his duty. Protected his family.

Aloren stood, staring at the door. “The pounding . . . it stopped.”

He cocked his head to the side, listening. She was right. Not one sound came from outside.

“Why?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he cared.

Duana finally returned and made him sit at the table. She placed a steaming bowl of carrot and potato soup in front of him, and his mouth watered at the smell.

“Eat.”

He grabbed her hand, bringing it to him, then pulled her into a hug. “Thank you for being my daughter, Duana. I love you.”

She laughed. “Why so serious?” She patted his back when he didn’t answer, probably sensing his melancholy. “I love you too.” She paused. “Please eat your soup.”

He smiled at her insistence and focused on the bowl in front of him, not listening to the girls’ conversation. The soup was perfection itself—Duana had quickly exceeded her mother’s talents at cooking. He savored each bite, willing the clock to speed up until the Lorkon arrived to get Aloren.

He’d nearly finished eating when Duana sat next to him. “I’m bringing the dishes in from the porch.”

His back stiffened. “No, absolutely not. You saw what happened last time.”

“We’ll need something to put the food on later—we can’t let them starve.”

“I’d rather they starve than you come in harm’s way.”

She patted his arm, trying to calm him. “No, that’s not right. It’s our job here—to take care of them.” She stood. “Come see. They’re perfectly fine now.”

He dragged himself to his feet, following her to the window. She parted the curtain for him, and he looked through the glass. She was right. Only a few women were outside, and they weren’t even close to the porch.

He watched his daughter’s face. She was eager, awaiting his permission. Saying no to her had always been so difficult for him. He sighed. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am, but I will do what you think is best.” She looked up at him with such an expression of trust that his heart softened.

“All right, you may get the plates. But the door will stay open, and I must be right next to you.”

“Okay. You block the way to make sure no one tries to get in.”

He agreed, helping her pull the table back. Aloren stayed near the entry to the kitchen.

The way no longer blocked, Eachan inched the door open, watching through the widening crack. So far, so good. He stepped onto the porch and checked the area. The women ignored him as they usually did. It felt okay, so he moved over to make room for Duana, then backed up to stand in the frame. He kept his eyes on the women in front of them, watching for any sudden movements.

He noticed a short creature walk around the side of a building down the street. What was it? Then another quickly followed, and another. Pretty soon there were close to fifty of the creatures. Eachan grunted in frustration when he recognized the little beasts—Dusts! He hadn’t seen one in fourteen years, at least! Why would the Lorkon bring them to Maivoryl City?

Duana was on her second trip to the porch when suddenly, one of the women screamed. Eachan startled, trying to see what had made her cry out. He hated it when women screamed. He looked where she was staring and saw the reason for her fear. At least twenty men were rushing at the town hall from the side, where he hadn’t seen them. They were holding knives, sticks, and pitchforks. They jumped the porch and fell onto Duana before Eachan even had a chance to react.

He roared, jumping into the middle of the men, flinging them off his daughter with a strength he didn’t know he still possessed. He punched, kicked, and clawed his way through the people until he finally reached his daughter’s motionless form.

With a yell that would burst an eardrum, he pulled her from the ground. The villagers scattered in fright. He swung around, punching and kicking them even farther away, roaring again. He jumped through the door, still holding Duana, pushed another villager off, then slammed the door shut.

Eachan fell to the floor, cradling his daughter in his arms. Blood—blood was everywhere. He couldn’t focus on it, could only watch Duana’s face. He barely noticed Aloren rushing around him, checking the wounds.

Duana’s eyes fluttered open. “Papa . . .”

Then her body became limp in his arms.

He pulled his daughter close and wept.

Eachan held Duana for as long as he could—brushing her hair from her face, trying to massage the life into her hands, calling her to come back. Tears fell from his eyes, blurring his vision. He brushed them impatiently from his cheeks. What he didn’t wipe away soaked into his mustache.

Regret filled his heart, adding to the intense pain he already felt. Why had he allowed her to step onto the porch? Why hadn’t he been more careful? If only he’d followed his instincts!

The banging on the doors and windows increased to a violent level. It didn’t matter what happened. His daughter had left—had joined her mother. He wailed, rocking back and forth.

The years of loneliness filled his body, making him ache everywhere. Guilt from his choices made him moan. If he’d only stayed with the villagers instead of choosing to obey the Lorkon, he’d still have his beloved daughter. He’d been so worried about physical corruption that he’d never considered spiritual, emotional, and mental depravity.

He buried his face in Duana’s hair, fresh tears surfacing. This time they were tears of shame, mingled with the pain. The price he’d paid to keep his family physically healthy had been high. Too high. He’d allowed himself to become truly horrendous.

Finally, when the tears had subsided, Eachan gently placed Duana on the wooden floor. He wished he could’ve done more for her—more to make her happy. Oh, how he would miss her smile.