The Key of Kilenya
Andrea Pearson
Copyright 2011 Andrea Pearson
Book design and layout copyright 2011 Andrea Pearson
Cover design copyright 2011 James E. Curwen
Books by Andrea Pearson:
The Kilenya Series:
The Key of Kilenya
The Ember Gods, Kilenya Series Book Two
August Fortress, Kilenya Series Book Three
Rise of Keitus, Kilenya Series Book Four
Eyes of the Sun, Kilenya Series Book Five (coming soon)
Kilenya Series Book Six – title and book coming soon
Kilenya Romances:
Samara: A Kilenya Romance
For information on the above books, click here. (https://www.andreapearsonbooks.com/p/my-books.html)
This book is available in print at most online retailers.
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Summary: Two monstrous wolves drive fourteen-year-old Jacob Clark down a path to a different world near his small-town home. The creatures of this new world are peculiar, and he is surprised to learn that they know everything about him. Even the evil, immortal Lorkon, who stole the Key of Kilenya. They are jealous of Jacob and wish to control powers he doesn't know he possesses.
To Josh.
This story was, is,
and always will be
for you
Table of Contents
Chapter 1. Into the Woods
About the Author
Pronunciation Guide
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1. Into the Woods
Journal Entry
Would a man kidnap his own daughter-in-law? The castle is in ruins, its people bloodied and broken. I suspect my father was behind it. We are counting the dead and missing, and I’m in despair because I can’t find her anywhere. My beloved Princess Arien, eight months’ pregnant with our first child—and such a difficult child to come by, after years of trial and loss.
Aldo and Ezra have instructed me to meet them at their mother’s cottage, nearly a mile from the castle. They believe the princess was indeed kidnapped, and that her captors will demand ransom. What else would they want from the royal family?
Jacob tossed his favorite hand-held video game onto his bed, then grabbed his basketball and dashed down the stairs. As he entered the kitchen, he paused, glancing out the window to check on Amberly—still playing in the sandbox out back—then turned and bolted through the front door, eager to take advantage of the last rays of sunlight.
Matt, Jacob’s sixteen-year-old brother, was working in the garage. “Hey, I wanna shoot too,” he said as he popped his head out from under the truck.
“Fine, but I really need this practice. So challenge me.”
“Don’t I always?” Matt said with a laugh.
They played a quick game of one-on-one, with Jacob barreling past Matt and leading the game consistently by fifteen points or more. He ended it with a spectacular three-point shot and bent over panting, hands on knees.
“Yeah, well, I can still beat you at football.” Matt grinned.
Jacob laughed, then tossed the ball to his brother. “Here. You need to practice more.”
“You still trying out tomorrow?”
“‘Course—I have to.”
“Uh-huh.” Matt tucked the ball under his arm and glanced at Jacob. “You know . . . letting Kevin win at something might not be a bad thing. ‘Sides, you could both make it.”
“No, we couldn’t. You know Coach—he’s not going to let two fourteen year olds on varsity.”
A rustle in the trees next to the driveway made Jacob turn his head. It sounded like a large animal or a person. “You hear that?”
“Hear what?” Matt was back to shooting hoops again.
Jacob motioned for Matt to stop and took a step closer to the trees, squinting to see better. But the sun had already set, and the brush was dark. “Hey, turn on the light. I think something’s in there.”
Matt’s footsteps faded, then light flooded across the concrete driveway, deepening the already ominous shadows in the forest. That wasn’t much better.
“Hello?” Jacob called.
Matt came back and stood next to him for a moment. “Nothing’s there, man.” He dropped the ball at Jacob’s feet. “I’m gonna go work on the truck some more.”
Still unsure, Jacob slowly picked up the ball and started shooting again. After several satisfying swishes, he forgot the sound in the trees, picturing himself on the court at Mountain Crest High School, playing in front of Coach and the varsity team. He had to make it. He just had to. He’d never live down Kevin’s teasing and Coach’s patronizing glances of pity if he didn’t.
Thirty minutes later, he dropped the ball, caught it with his foot, and pushed it up the driveway, watching it roll toward the open garage door. It bounced off the truck’s tire closest to Matt. Jacob was ready for tomorrow. He could do this—he really could. He just had to make sure he got plenty of sleep that night and warmed up before tryouts began.
“Matt,” he called into the garage, “we need to get Amberly inside and to bed.”
A grunt came from under the truck. Jacob pushed the hair off his forehead and wondered what his mom would say if he bleached the tips while she was gone.
Leaves rustled in the forest again, a twig snapped, and he jerked to the right. A large form shifted in the moonlight, then froze. Light flashed across a pair of eyes almost level with his. He’d been right—something was there! The form moved again. It was too bulky to be human. Jacob stepped back, fumbling for his pocketknife. Nothing that big lived in this part of the mountains.
A scream raked the air—Amberly!—and he nearly fell over, stumbling away from whatever it was that had been watching him from the forest.
“What’s going on?” Matt asked, scrambling out of the garage.
“Amberly—back yard!”
They raced around the garage and jerked to a stop as they spotted the sandbox, lit by the back porch light. A monstrous black wolf towered over Amberly as she sobbed, with her shoulders hunched and hand held up as if to shield herself. It sniffed her hair and clothes, then growled at Matt and Jacob. Footfalls sounded behind them and they whirled—another huge wolf lurked at the forest edge.
“What do we do?” Jacob asked under his breath.
At the sound of his whisper, both wolves bared their teeth. The one closest to Amberly lifted its nose, then took several steps toward the boys. Jacob almost stopped breathing as he waited to see what it would do. Intelligent green eyes locked with his. He tried to look away, but couldn’t. Neither wolf paid attention to Matt as he edged closer to Amberly. Jacob wondered if he should follow, but something about the wolves’ behavior made him decide to stay in place.
The gentle August breeze ruffled his hair. Both animals sniffed the air, then stiffened. The one closest to Amberly snarled and took a few steps in Jacob’s direction. Suddenly, to his horror, both of them lunged forward, pouncing straight for him.
Matt made a run for Amberly, while Jacob had a split-second decision to make—his only escape route was through the forest that bordered their property on most sides. A low fence separated the yard from the trees.
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—Matt grabbed Amberly and dashed toward the house, and 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, hoping to have an easier time maintaining his distance from the wolves. 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 a place to take shelter. Why hadn’t they caught up with him yet? He risked another glance backward—they weren’t there anymore. Where’d they go? He continued running a minute longer, just in case they showed up again.
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. Was it the wolves? His muscles tensed and he held his breath. Could they hear his heart pounding? He didn’t move—maybe they’d 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 ways 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, then 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 real
ly 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.
He was curious, though—why had the wolves chased him without attacking? 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 was supposed to check on Jacob and his siblings in the meantime.
Jacob and Matt were in charge whenever Mom and Dad went on one of their frequent trips, and Matt would take good care of Amberly. Jacob shifted his position. He was so relieved Matt and Amberly had 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, than 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.