Chapter 14. Hidden Information
Jacob jumped to his feet and faced the mudroom when he heard the garage door open. He’d only been able to read the first few words of the next entry.
Amberly raced in, a smile showing her newly missing teeth. “Jake!” She threw her arms around him, then made him look at the toy she’d been given at the restaurant. He barely noticed the green swirling around her.
“Shouldn’t you be reading the journal?” his mom asked as she came in and put her purse on the counter.
Jacob didn’t answer. He waited until his dad entered too. By that time, Matt had sat at the table, probably wanting to listen in on the conversation.
His mom checked the voicemail, then turned to Jacob, finally noticing the expression on his face. “Honey, what’s the matter?”
Jacob scowled at her. “Why didn’t you guys ever tell me?”
His parents looked at each other. “Tell you what, son?” his dad asked, the color for confusion—a soft, yellowy-orange—puffing in patterns around him.
“That I was adopted! That I’m not even your kid. That I’m not even from Earth! I have to learn it by reading some old journal?” Jacob’s emotions spread into his words, but he didn’t care. “And that I was attacked as a baby by the most vile creatures imaginable?” He turned away from them—not wanting to see the shock on their faces. “The only thing you ever told me was I had a difficult birth and almost died—I never even knew why.”
“Oh, honey.” Mom put her arms around Jacob. “You are our son, you really are.”
“But only because you adopted me. How real is that?”
“There must’ve been a misunderstanding,” Jacob’s dad said. “Where’s the journal?”
Jacob motioned to the book on the counter. His dad picked it up.
“Show us where you got the idea you were adopted,” Dad said, giving the book to Jacob.
Jacob flipped to the spot, then read it out loud, his voice shaking.
Danilo cannot live in this land—or even with us. I’m afraid we’ll have to take him somewhere else where he’ll lead a life free from the problems of this world.
He slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the counter. “Well? This is me, isn’t it? This book? It’s talking about me and my parents—Dmitri and Arien.”
Jacob’s dad sat on a bar stool and sighed. “Yes, it’s you.”
“Honey, you still don’t understand,” his mom said. She regarded him for a moment, then sighed. “You need to calm down before we talk anymore. I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate. Lee, would you take Amberly to bed?”
Jacob’s dad scooped up Amberly, and tickling her, carried her upstairs. Jacob sat where his dad had been, putting his head in his hands. Hot chocolate was his favorite drink year-round. His mom really knew him. This thought, though, only saddened him. She knew him better than his birth mother did. And where were his real parents?
“So, you really were adopted, huh?” Matt asked, sitting on the other side of Jacob.
Jacob’s mom turned and glared at Matt, who put his hands in the air. “What? He’s the one who told me.”
“Don’t even, Matthew. You know better.”
“Yeah, and that bothers me,” Jacob said. “Matt knew and I didn’t? How fair is that?”
“Drink.” She put the cup in front of Jacob. “We’ll talk as soon as your father returns.”
He sipped the hot chocolate—it was filled with marshmallows, just the way he liked it.
Only a moment passed before Jacob’s dad entered the room, whistling a lullaby. He sat next to Jacob. “All right, son, we’ll talk—”
“Yeah—”
“As soon as you finish reading.” Dad pushed the journal to Jacob.
“Now? Are you serious?”
“Yes. Out loud. You’re almost to the end.”
Jacob opened to where he’d last been. It was Dmitri’s handwriting again.
A year and a half has now passed, and this will be my last entry. Arien and I are going into hiding—we found this to be absolutely necessary to protect the people from what the Lorkon intend to make of our baby. The Fat Lady warned us that as he ages, his body will naturally fight off the potion she created for him. The abilities he will have from what we’ve done to save him, and what the Lorkon did to him (not to mention his heritage), will gradually come forth. The things we put him through were almost inhumane—Kenji and Brojan had to put Kaede Sap directly into his bloodstream. That, combined with the Fat Lady’s potion, saved his life. Whatever the Lorkon put in him was too much for his little body, and he would’ve died if we hadn’t had the Fat Lady’s help in time.
Brojan and Aldo spent months scouring the countryside, searching for a link to an appropriate land—an entirely different world. They found one of the links, and it was decided this was where Danilo would be raised.
As a precaution, the Makalos built a village at the entrance to the world. They guard the way to America—the name of the land where we’ll live—which allows us time to raise our baby in a semi-normal situation. We have decided to keep the child, to go into hiding with him. We are overjoyed at the prospect of watching him grow, protecting him from the Lorkon, and loving him. Arien cries tears of joy every time she holds him.
Jacob looked up from reading. “But—”
His mom smiled at him—tears in her eyes. Dad cleared his throat, then motioned to the book. “Keep reading.”
We stayed in a hollowed-out tree for a year while learning the ways of this new world. The Makalos, ever handy with materials, fashioned us clothing similar to what is worn in America. Then we obtained books and, through the Makalos’ ability, watched seeing-shows called movies. We learned the manner of speech and behavior in America. We are surprised to find they converse in the same language we do, though they call it English, and some of the word usage is different. The connection between our worlds must be stronger than we’d previously thought.
After we felt comfortable—me, at least—we used gold from the kingdom, took it to a bank, and received a loan of money to purchase land and a house which are situated close to the link. I am working toward obtaining an education to handle finances—the system they use here is endlessly fascinating—and Arien was particularly overjoyed to find it is common for mothers to stay at home with their children. Though the household she runs here isn’t as large as her palace, at least she is in charge.
We plan to live here for seventeen years, at least—long enough for our baby to mature. The tree in the Makalo village will be used as a safe location for our precious things—The Key of Kilenya, for example.
Aldo helped us seal off the entrance to Taga. No one will be able to enter forcefully. He’ll return to the cabin where headquarters for the war was held. The only people who will know we are still alive are Aldo, the Makalos, and the Fat Lady. Our son will now be called Jacob—a very common name in our new country.
As a precaution to misuse of the Key of Kilenya, we have affixed special diamonds to it, two of which are dyed with a color only Jacob—it is still difficult to call him this—recognizes. In order to get the Key to function, he will need to slide the diamonds together. We’ve found that some of his abilities shine through, even though he’s just under two years old, and the potion should have stopped them all. He sees things normal people can’t. The characters of those around him, especially.
I hope there will come a time when the ravages and destructions in my land will be erased. I am plagued at night by the memories of the dead—races, children, and adults alike. My dreams will not leave me. We visit the Makalos as frequently as we can, and that has helped maintain our sanity, especially for Arien, who intensely dislikes living here.
I, along with her, hope to return to Eklaron someday. But with children here in this world, I don’t know how likely that will be.
I am ending this diary now and will leave it with the Makalos, where Jacob will read it when he has reached the age of eighteen. No longer Dmitri
, I am now Lee Clark, and Arien is called Janna.
The words stopped flowing. Jacob had reached the end of the journal. He took a deep breath. His earlier anger melted away, replaced by surprise and some confusion. He looked up at his parents—his mom’s eyes were still full of tears. “You—you’re Arien?”
She nodded, the tears spilling over, a bright green surrounding her face—joy.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Even after I’d come back from Eklaron?”
She sniffed, her whole body shaking. “We—we wanted to avoid it until you were eighteen at least. That was always the plan. To make sure you were old enough to understand what was going on around you—why the Lorkon wanted you.”
“But I was thrown into that world—it was no choice of my own, and obviously not your choice. You should’ve told me.”
“If there was any chance you’d be fine not knowing, we wanted to take it,” Jacob’s dad—Dmitri—said, pacing. “We weren’t prepared yet—there were still too many unanswered questions. You’d want answers, and we wouldn’t have them.”
“That doesn’t matter. I wish I’d known.” He put his head in his hands, so overwhelmed he could barely think anymore. Then a thought came to him, and he looked at his dad. “And why did I go get the Key, when it’s your kingdom?”
“The Lorkon wanted you, not me. They would’ve kept trying until they got their hands on you. The Key, as you already know, was only bait.”
“But why haven’t you helped out at all? The Makalos could definitely use it, and the people of that land would be so excited if you were involved in things again.”
His dad sat down and sighed. “I wish it were that easy, son. I really do. I’ve been helping in every way I can—studying, searching for other links, trying to figure out where the Key of Ayunli is—before the Lorkon do. I’ll be involved with Eklaron again someday, but for now, Jacob, it’s you they need. You have magical abilities—I don’t. I can help you learn sword fighting techniques, how to defend yourself and to speak to people as an authority figure, but they’re not ready for a ruler to come in and take over—especially with the Lorkon still in the land.”
“Son, you’re exhausted,” his mom said. “Why don’t you sleep on this, and we’ll talk in the morning?”
He nodded—sleep sounded like the best escape from the emotions rushing through him. His mom gave him a hug, and something occurred to him. “What am I supposed to call you now?”
“‘Mom,’ silly,” she said, ruffling his hair and following him to his room to make sure he had everything he needed.
Jacob changed into pajamas after his mom left, then sat on his bed. He opened the window when he heard knocking, and let Early in. He sent her back to Brojan with the news that he’d finished reading the journal and had a lot of questions.
He made sure Hazel didn’t want anything, then sprawled across his blankets, the old leather book—his dad’s diary—still clutched in his hand, and finally fell asleep.