The Eye of the Stone (4 page)

And yet now a lovely warm, tingly sensation lingered on his lips. He put his fingers to his mouth. It sure felt real.

Jackson blinked at the implication. But if the sensation on his lips was real, then that meant he had really actually been kissed. And if he had really actually been kissed, then that meant this particular girl had really actually kissed him. And if this particular girl had really actually kissed him, then that meant this particular girl really actually existed. And if this particular girl really actually existed, then
that
meant …

Jackson plopped down on the plank bench, his mind a whirlwind of wonder. He felt as if he were on a roller coaster, hurtling one moment through a dark tunnel, the next out into blinding light. At any second there could be another sudden drop or wild twisting turn.

A part of his brain kept crying, “Red alert, bozo! No way! Absolutely impossible! You've gone crazy, loony, mental, flat-out bonkers!”

But all the rest of him vibrated with a startling certainty: As unbelievable as it seemed, this particular girl really actually
did
exist. And if this particular girl really actually existed, then that meant her whole world, the Vale, really actually existed, too. And if the Vale really actually existed, then that meant … well, it had to mean that he was really actually there.

Before in his life, a conclusion as wild and improbable as this would have filled Jackson with sheer panic. In a heartbeat he would have leaped to his feet and been running blind. Now, though, instead of fear, what he felt was a calm sense of clarity, an acute awareness, like nothing he'd ever experienced. And yet, at the same time, he was also filled with a surprising surge of elation, a sort of wild giddiness. He, Jackson Cooper, had been transported out of his own new-millennium world and plopped down in a
very
different other!

“Cool!” he said, shaking his head in awe.

The girl looked at him with a question in her eyes. “No, it's warm today. Why do you say it's cool?” She shrugged. “Whatever the weather, it doesn't matter to me.
You
are what matters. You're here, and it makes me feel like …” A dazzling smile spread across her face. “It makes me feel like dancing!” She grabbed his hands and playfully pulled him into the center of the room. “Would you dance with me?”

Jackson shrank back. He didn't know how to dance. What if he made a fool of himself, stepped on her toes, or fell down? Just the thought of such a humiliation knotted his stomach.

But then the girl began to sing, her voice soft and serene, a lilting wordless melody so soothing that the tension in his stomach instantly melted away. His thoughts floated with the notes of her song as if he were in a dream where he imagined walking with her under a beautiful night sky. In his mind, the stars winked down at them from a domed ceiling of blackness so deep it seemed to vibrate. All around, torches were being lit, first one, and then another, creating a warm pool of light. Musicians sat to one side, holding wooden flutes and pipes of a kind Jackson had never seen.

One of the flute players sounded a note as soft and serene as the girl's voice. Another answered the call with a trio of rising tones. Higher pitches joined in, then the lumbering bass pipes beneath it all, until they all burst, clear and strong, into lively song.

Suddenly couples materialized out of nowhere, all dressed in flowing clothes, spinning and twirling, moving side by side with the music like a school of fish in a familiar stream. And this time when the girl held out her hand, instead of being afraid, Jackson confidently took it. He pulled her to him and danced with her to the music like he'd once seen a handsome man dance with a beautiful woman in a romantic movie. Round and round the two of them whirled in the warm torchlight, the scent of the girl filling him as if he had inhaled spring.

“You smell like flowers,” Jackson said, the words spilling out as quickly as he thought them. And the next thing he knew, the trance-like dream was broken and he was back in the girl's house again within closed walls. She was looking up at him with her mouth hanging open.

Jackson went beet-red with embarrassment.
Smell like flowers? What a nitwit thing to say.
“Uh … w-well—” he stammered, “what I meant was—” He stepped back. “I'll bet you always smell—uh—
no
, not smell, but—” He was starting to panic. “Um, what I
really
meant was—uh, that you're—you're
beautiful
.”

The girl's eyes went watery, and Jackson thought he had really stuck his foot in his mouth. It was probably an insult in this place she called the Vale to compliment someone like that, no matter how true it might be.

But then her face melted into that dazzling smile again. “Do you really think so? No one has ever said that to me before.”

Now Jackson was as baffled as he had been nervous. “You've got to be kidding.”

The girl shook her head. “No. Neither Timmran nor Yakonan men say such things, but—oh, you
are
a gift!”

Jackson grinned with both relief and delight. A gift. She'd called him a gift! Like he'd heard someone say, “God's gift to women!” He puffed his chest out, reveling in the thought. Man, did it feel good to be talked to like that!

The girl hurried past Jackson. “We must celebrate!” she exclaimed.

“Huh?” Startled, Jackson jerked around. “Celebrate what?”

“Arnica!” The girl strode to a small door Jackson hadn't noticed in the back of the room and flung it open. “Arnica, come see!”

A little girl with blond braids looked up from her work at a crude loom made of lashed branches. “He's all right, then?” she asked, eyes as wide as her smile. “Oh, good.”And she was up and running from the little alcove into the main room, skidding to a stop only inches from Jackson's feet. “My name is Arnica,” she said, bouncing up and down on her toes. “
I
am Tessa's sister!”

“Tessa?” Jackson shifted from one set of sparkling blue eyes to the other. So the first girl ever to kiss him was named Tessa.

Tessa's hand went to her mouth. “Oops, sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Tessandrica, like the wild flowers that grow in the spring. But everyone just calls me Tessa.”

“That's because she's just wild, not a flower,” Arnica said with a giggle.

Tessa scowled. “I am
not
wild.” She pushed Arnica, but there was playfulness in it.

Arnica giggled even louder and pushed her sister back. “Yes, you are. Father and Yed say—”

“Enough of me and my sister,” Tessa cut in. She turned back to Jackson. “What's
your
name?”

“My name?” It suddenly occurred to Jackson that in this new world he could be somebody different from what he'd always been—a new man, so to speak. Why not have a new name? He could make one up.…

But as he looked from Tessa to Arnica and back to Tessa again, the impulse left him as quickly as it had come. No way was he going to lie to the first girl who'd ever kissed him, or to her little sister. He cleared his throat and said his real name with newfound pride.

“Jackson Cooper.”

Tessa pursed her lips and nodded. “Jackson Cooper.” Then she repeated his name. “Jackson Cooper. It has the sound of—”

“Jackson Cooper–Jackson Cooper!” Arnica sang with glee, turning it into a little tune. “Jackson Cooper–Jackson Cooper, Jackson Cooper–Jackson Cooper!”

Tessa glared. “Just Jackson Cooper, not Jackson Cooper–Jackson Cooper. You listen too little and talk too much.”

Arnica's smile dropped like a stone. “I'm sorry.” She turned to Jackson. “I didn't mean to be rude.”

“It's OK,” Jackson said, fighting back a chuckle. “Don't worry. I don't mind.”

Arnica nodded but still looked upset. She stuck the end of her long braid in her mouth and began to suck on it like a baby would a thumb.

Tessa let out a puff of aggravation. “How many times do I have to tell you not to eat your hair? If you're hungry, get yourself some stew, as well as some for Jackson Cooper, whose name you like to say so much.”

Arnica glanced over her shoulder toward the big door at the front of the room. “But Father and Yed aren't here, and they always say that—”

“Father and Yed say many things,” Tessa said, eyes narrowing for a moment. But then her face softened. “We have an important guest.” She looked at Jackson. “
Very
important. We eat whenever we choose.”

“Oh!” Arnica tossed her braid over her shoulder and bounced up on her toes, delight back in her eyes. “What fun!”

Tessa prodded her sister with her elbow. “It would be even
more
fun if you went and served some food. Hurry! We've got lots to do!”

Arnica nodded. “Yes. Yes!” She ran to a big iron pot hanging from a tripod over the open hearth and lifted the lid. A wonderful earthy aroma wafted toward Jackson, and suddenly he realized that he was so hungry it felt as if he hadn't eaten in days.

Three helpings of savory venison stew later, Jackson pushed back from the table with a sigh of satisfaction. If anything proved that all of this was indeed real, the food did. No way could you imagine a flavor as delicious as that, or a full belly and the feeling of contentment that came with it.

Sure, there were still a ton of things he didn't understand about the Vale: where it was and when, how he got there and why. It seemed that the black stone he'd found in the cave in Cougar Butte had to have had something to do with it. After all, as soon as he'd picked it up, things had started to get weird.

Jackson slipped his hand between the two top buttons of his shirt and cradled the smooth oval in his fingers. How it had gotten strung onto the gold chain his father had given him, he had no idea. Had he done that, or maybe Tessa, at some point he couldn't recall? When he was feeling so woozy? Now it hung from the chain like a pendant. Which was nice, come to think of it. It made the stone easy to touch.

With his fingertips he traced the drawing of the lion etched into the stone's surface. Or was it a lion? The grooves felt somehow different than he remembered. He couldn't really see the carving while he was wearing it. He tilted his head, trying to get a better look, but the chain was too short. Which seemed odd. Hadn't it fit easily over his head when his dad had first put it on him?

The thought of his father, then Becky, then his mom and home, surfaced in Jackson's mind and began to nag at him. What in the world was he doing just sitting there acting like all of this was normal? He should be doing everything in his power to get himself back to Timber Grove.

But just as quickly as the concerns surfaced, they faded away, and Jackson found himself shrugging. Everything was okay in Timber Grove. Somehow he just knew it. No need to worry. He was right where he was supposed to be, there in the Vale. He ran his fingers over the black stone one more time, then picked up his wooden spoon and scraped the last bit of the thick, rich stew sauce out of the corner of the bowl. Mmm, was it ever good! He could easily get used to that kind of cooking.

Jackson smiled. Funny, but it seemed like he already
was
used to it, used to everything. What had started out as the most bizarre and confusing nightmare imaginable had somehow come to feel downright natural, as if he'd been there for months or years. Actually, when he thought about it, it seemed as if he'd known this place and these people—especially Tessa—his whole life. Everything felt so meant to be, so … well, it just felt so
right.

And no wonder! He'd never had such a big deal made over him. He'd been kissed, sung to, danced with, waited on hand and foot, fed like a hero, treated like a king! Who needed a TV or a telephone? If he could just have another cup of that good Ernt and Daru tea, life would be pretty close to perfect.

He turned toward the hearth to ask for seconds, only to see a tall, muscular young man—maybe eighteen years old—standing in the doorway to the weaving alcove. In his powerful hands he held a bow with an arrow notched to the string.

The arrow was pointed straight at Jackson.

6. A Hole in Time

Jackson's heart went to his throat.

“Don't move,” the bowman said, his deep voice as steady as the arrow aimed at Jackson's heart.

Jackson didn't even breathe. His eyes were riveted to the sharp tip of the arrowhead, which gleamed black and shiny in the firelight.

Arnica, however, spun around from where she sat by the hearth and leaped to her feet, a big grin on her face. “Yed! I didn't hear you come in.” She started to run to him, but he barked, “Stop!” and she halted as if hit. Face stricken, she quickly bowed. “I'm sorry. I forgot.”

Eyes and arrow still trained on Jackson, Yed let out a slow sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you, little sister? Father is now Radnor, Chieftain of Timmra. And I am heir to the Chieftain's Chair. You have to show him, and
me
, the respect that comes with our positions.” He glanced around the room. “Where's Tessa?”

Jackson glanced around, too. Yes, where
was
Tessa? She'd been there only minutes before. He peered into the weaving alcove. It was empty. There must be a back door he didn't know about. She'd slipped out when he was busy eating. But why hadn't she told him she was leaving and when she'd be back? He wanted her there,
really
wanted her there,
right then.

“Oh, Tessa,” Arnica said. “She's gone to—” But then she stopped short and shook her head.

“Gone where?” Yed demanded.

Anxiety flickered across Arnica's face. She looked down and began to fidget with her braid, twisting it around her index finger. “Um … gone to tell—to do as Fa—uh, Radnor—ordered. To … uh, get deer antler from Gibron so that she can make more combs for the Market of Vale.”