The Key of Kilenya (20 page)

Jacob glanced at Aloren—this topic was
seriously fascinating to him, and he wanted to ask questions. That
would require talking to her, though, and he wasn’t sure he was
ready yet. He rolled his eyes at himself, then finally swallowed
his pride. “What about the water the Eetu uses to replenish itself
while on the chase?” he asked. “Does it become the fishes’
territory?”

“No. Eetus have to live in the water for at
least a full day to claim it as their own. Also, Sonda Lake is the
only place where it’s deep enough or dark enough for them. They
don’t survive very long in shallow water.”

“So if I go down to the lake and touch the
water right now, we’d be in big trouble?”

“Again, no. The only water the Eetus claim as
their own is what’s immediately around them.” Aloren pushed her
hair out of her face. “That room in the castle—in the tunnel—has
hundreds of Eetus living in it.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Jacob said. “When the wolves
went in, it looked like the whole thing was moving. But how do they
live so closely? Wouldn’t they constantly be killing one another
for invading their water?”

“Actually, no. Eetu fish live in relative
peace with their own species.”

“Is it possible to kill one?” Akeno said.

“Yes, but it’s difficult. No average man or
woman has been able to defeat them, mostly because Eetus are fast
and intelligent. The only safe bet is to outrun it, if that’s even
possible.”

“I bet a gun would take care of an Eetu fish
in short order,” Jacob said, laughing. “Hey, what happens if
someone takes some of the water without touching it? Like if they
dipped a container into the water and then sealed it? Would they be
able to use it as a weapon? You know, throw it on someone and have
the fish chase that person down?”

“It’s possible, I guess, but has never
happened.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one has been down that far into
the lake without getting killed in the process,” Aloren said. “And
no one knows about the water in the tunnel, except for myself and
the Dusts who live there, and Dusts aren’t intelligent enough to
use it to their advantage.”

“How do you know the castle so well?” Jacob
asked.

“I live there, too.”

“With the Dusts?”

Aloren shrugged. “Yeah. It's really not that
hard to stand up to them. You just have to be smarter and present
them with new obstacles. If the challenge is out of the norm, it'll
take them months to figure it out. I just have to change my
protections—what I use to keep them out of my tower—every six
months or so, and I'm completely fine.”

The group fell into silence. Jacob couldn’t
help but wonder if it was possible for him to get some of the Eetu
water as a way to protect his companions and himself against the
Lorkon.

Akeno broke the silence by asking Jacob
questions about his family. He was curious about how they
interacted with each other, and it was easy for Jacob to forget
Aloren’s presence while talking about home.

After several minutes of discussion, Jacob
realized that Aloren was paying close attention to what he was
saying. He looked at her, surprised that for once she didn’t have a
smile on her face. He felt uncomfortable when he noticed there were
tears in her eyes. She glanced at him, then away, but not before
Jacob saw the tears spill over.

Jacob fidgeted with his hands, wracking his
brain, trying to figure out what his mom would do if she were here.
Probably make Aloren a cup of hot chocolate. That wasn’t possible .
. . but there was food in his knapsack. He swung it off his
shoulder and pulled out some apples. He tossed one to Akeno, kept
one for himself, and gave another to Aloren. She accepted and took
a big bite, not meeting his eyes.

Jacob shrugged, deciding not to worry about
it. He pulled the journal out of his bag, looking around at the
countryside, surprised to see how far they had walked since leaving
the city. The sun was very hot still, although it was late in the
afternoon. Clouds were building in the sky to the south.

“It looks like a storm’s coming,” Akeno
said.

“Storm?” Aloren looked up with a dismayed
expression on her face.

“Yeah, see it?”

“Yes,” she said. “Storms aren’t good
here.”

“Why not?” Jacob asked.

“They’re dangerous.” Aloren sped up, walking
several paces in front of the boys instead of alongside them.

“It’ll be a nice break from the heat,
though,” Jacob called to her, wiping a drop of sweat off his
forehead. He waited, but she didn’t answer. He looked around again.
“Where are the Minyas?” It’d been a few minutes since he’d last
felt them in his hair.

“I don’t know,” Akeno said. “I didn’t see
them leave.”

Jacob sighed. “We’re going to need to find a
way to keep them nearby. I’m tired of them flying off.”

“Maybe they could sit in your knapsack for a
while.”

Jacob cupped his hand around his mouth.
“September! Early! Where are you?”

With a slight flash of light, the Minyas were
next to him.

“We’re here!” Early said.

“Yeah. We weren’t very far,” September
added.

“All right, you two—you’ve been wandering off
way too many times. We want you to ride in my bag for a while.” He
held his knapsack open. “In you go.”

Early giggled and patted Jacob on the hand.
“We’ll be good now.” She turned to September. “Another ride in his
bag! Fun!” They disappeared into the knapsack.

Jacob sighed. “We’ll see how long that
lasts.” He zipped the bag almost shut and carefully swung it back
over his shoulders. Then he opened the book, deciding to make use
of the light while he could.

My name is Dmitri. I am twenty-three years
old, and I live in the kingdom of Troosinal. Following the counsel
of my mother, I have started this journal. She said there may come
a time when our people will need to understand my history and that
of our land.

My father, the king, is named Ramantus. He
is evil and always has been, following in the steps of the many
kings and queens who have gone before him. His subjects fear and
hate him. I will not speak of his acts of evil against
them—however, let it be known the people hate him for good
reason.

Ramantus showed uncharacteristic wisdom in
his choice of a wife. My mother was his exact opposite. Gentle,
kind-hearted, loving—she did more for me than anyone else ever has.
She died a couple years ago—a death which could easily have been
prevented if my father had cared to do so.

Jacob stopped for a minute when he had to
turn a page. He watched the words flow, then stop—the book must
have realized he wasn’t internalizing the information. He laughed,
trying to see if he could figure out a way to trick the book into
giving more than he was actually reading. It didn’t work. He sighed
and started to read again.

Though it pains me to say, I followed
closely in my father’s steps for several years, and he has chosen
me as heir to the throne. I’m not even his eldest son. I wonder if
he will still want me to take over when he finds out how different
I now am.

At my mother’s request, I will write of the
things that caused the change in me—the first being a marriage she
arranged for me—a marriage which still hasn’t taken place, and the
terms of which were decided long before I realized what was going
on, long before I started changing my life. The neighboring king
and queen, Roylance and Ara Liese, agreed to allow me to marry
their daughter, Arien, but only if I changed my lifestyle and
stopped the cruel and evil things I’d been doing, emulating
Ramantus. My mother, with her never-ending faith in me, agreed to
the terms and took it upon herself to ensure I understood the
gravity of my ways.

The second event was a conversation between
my mother and me, which I’m sad to say wasn’t very successful on
either part. She did her best, in her ever-gentle manner, to show
me where my father was wrong and where I was becoming like him. I
didn’t listen, and responded with anger. This conversation,
however, started things rolling in my heart and mind. I began
recognizing how my father’s choices—and more importantly, my
response to those choices—were influencing me.

The last event was a culmination of many
things. My father had become upset over something trivial, and he
was angrier than I’d seen him in months. He entered the hall where
the rest of the family played games together, yelling and cursing
and throwing things. My dear sister, not paying attention to his
mood, teased him. He turned on her, shoving her against the wall,
and her head struck the stones. He was drunk and barely recognized
he’d hurt her. Several things happened at once. My sister began to
convulse, my brothers rushed to her aid, and my parents started
yelling at each other. Ramantus threatened to physically punish my
mother, then threw her in the dungeons.

With close medical care, my sister
survived—but Ezra feared permanent damage had been done, and he was
right. Over the last few years, I’ve watched her become reticent
and even unresponsive. Mother was already very ill and became much
worse in the cold, damp air of the dungeon. We tried to release
her, but my father kept the only key and didn’t listen to our pleas
to let her go. She only lasted a week.

Jacob stopped reading when Akeno and Aloren
halted, letting the words of the book sink in. He’d never come
across such corruption in his life, except through the media and
studies of history. What would it be like to have a dad who acted
that way, attacking the people he was supposed to love the most? It
was hard to fathom—especially when Jacob’s parents treated each
other with such respect.

Aloren and Akeno were now setting up camp,
carrying on an animated conversation. He had no desire to join
them, deciding instead to take advantage of the last bit of
sunlight.

I was with her when she died. By then I’d
experienced a complete change of heart—I no longer desired to do
evil. I regretted the years of destruction I’d caused in others’
lives—regrets I still carry.

My mother told me it was vital that no one
know of the changes I’d been experiencing—especially my father. Not
even the servants. She said there would come a time when the people
of Troosinal would be so badly abused by my father, so poorly
treated by the noblemen that they would turn to wickedness for help
and comfort. They would stop listening to anyone who brought
messages of peace and hope. I’d need to leave the kingdom when this
occurred—she said I would know when that time arrived.

“Jacob, what’ve you been reading?” Akeno
asked. Aloren wasn’t around.

“It’s a journal written by the prince Gallus
mentioned—Dmitri. Brojan and Kenji gave it to me while I was in
Taga. It’s supposed to help me understand more of what’s going on
here, but the only thing I’ve read so far is how wicked his dad
was, and how Dmitri used to be wicked, but is good now.”

“What did you talk about with them?” Akeno
finished making the fire and turned to the scrub oak and bushes
near him. He touched one of the trees, and the leaves and branches
folded into two separate huts.

“Apparently, the lady in the forest is a
Lorkon.”

“She is? She wasn’t at all what I thought
they’d look like.”

“Your dad said the females are different from
the males, and it’s the guys who are really disgusting.” Jacob
paused. “Was it a Lorkon that injured your dad in the war?”

“Yes.” Akeno tested the strength of the huts
by pushing against them in a few places. “He told us he was
attacked, and acid or something was put on him.”

“He told me the Lorkon blood burns like acid.
They must have dripped it or poured it on him.”

A shocked expression crossed Akeno’s face.
“Oh, wow. No wonder he never told us exactly what happened. That’s
horrible.” He sat on the ground near the fire, watching the logs
burn. After a minute, he pulled himself out of his contemplation.
“Oh, I meant to ask you if you wanted to try cooking those
potatoes.”

Jacob’s thoughts flew to their extra company.
“Tonight? Can’t we do it some other time?” Like, after Aloren was
no longer with them . . .

“They’re really not that hard to make.”

Jacob suppressed a growl. “Fine. Teach
me.”

They began preparing dinner. Aloren returned,
and there was surprise on her face when she saw them. She offered
to help, but they had nearly finished, so she sat down to wait.

“Here, have some potatoes.” Jacob held a
plate out to Aloren, surprised to see his hand tremble. Why was he
nervous for her to try the food? A smile was behind her eyes when
she took it, and, embarrassed, he pulled away, grabbed his own
plate, and sat where she couldn’t see his face. He couldn’t help
but feel a little irritated again—mainly with himself, though he
wasn’t sure why. Deciding just to ignore it, he turned back to
Akeno.

“I wish we could listen to some music,” he
said, taking a bite of potatoes. Too bad he hadn’t worn his iPod
while he’d been shooting hoops—otherwise, he’d have it with him
now. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d gone so long without
music.

“See if you can get the Minyas to sing for
you,” Akeno said, organizing the food on his plate into neat piles.
“It’s actually very entertaining.”

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks. I think I’m
Minyaed out for the rest of my life.”

Aloren stretched out her long legs. “Yours
haven’t seemed so bad to me.”

“That’s because you haven’t had to deal with
them for the last week,” Jacob said, leaning up against a large
rock.

Akeno disagreed. “You’ve only dealt with them
for a couple of days. I’ve had to deal with them for the last
week—four days of which you were unconscious.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been around them your whole
life, and so you’re used to them.” Jacob looked around. “Where are
they, anyway?”