The Eye of the Stone (9 page)

“Victory!” Yed and the other men yelled. “Victory over the Yakonan!”

As one they surged out the village gate, pushing Jackson before them.

13. The Yakonan

Swords and spears glinted dully in the cloud-muted light as the soldiers of the Steadfast Order charged up to the Council Bridge.

“Form lines!” Radnor ordered, motioning with his hand. “Bowmen in the rear!”

Jackson's mind spun like a leaf ripped from a tree in a storm. He watched in a daze as swordsmen and those with spears or axes formed lines and dropped to their knees on the dusty road and in the plowed fields on either side. Bowmen stepped up behind them. Still clutching his own bow, he started to join them.

“No, here, Jackson Cooper!” Radnor pulled Jackson to the front and center. “Together we stand against the enemy!”

Yed, facing the Council Bridge, motioned angrily toward the river. “The water level has dropped even more. The Yakonan and their false songs have brought the shaking earth and this curse down on us!”

Jackson looked to where Yed pointed. The little island on which he had first found himself in Timmra had at least doubled in size from the water lowering around it. The river was now no more than a meandering channel only a few yards wide.

Radnor nodded, his mouth set in a hard, grim line. “Yako traitors!” He scanned the giant grass on the other side of the river. It swayed back and forth like dancers' hands in the stiffening breeze.

Jackson blinked in an attempt to clear his head. The slow, compacted sense of time he'd had in Timmra now seemed to have exploded out of its tight coil. So much was rushing at him so fast.

“There they are!”

Jackson startled at Yed's shout. He looked up to see the giant grass on the other side of the river parting. Out stepped at least a dozen dark-skinned people, all wearing long robes the color of clay. They walked slowly onto the road on their side of the river.

“The Yakonan elders,” Radnor hissed under his breath. “Fathers and mothers of treachery.”

They carried a huge drum—at least six feet across—made of what looked like an animal skin stretched over a giant gourd. Their heads were bent as they bore their load, their gray-streaked hair cascading over their shoulders, some all the way to their waists. Without a word or even a glance toward the Timmran side of the river, they approached the bridge.

Radnor's arm muscles rippled as he gripped the hilt of his sword. “It's the entire council,” he said between clenched teeth. “They prepare for their chieftess, Beromed.”

The Yakonan stopped just short of the bridge and set the drum down. They were now no more than thirty feet from where Jackson and Radnor and Yed stood. They took up wooden sticks with soft balls of leather at the ends.

Radnor cleared his throat and spit on the ground. “Here she comes, the leader of the enemy. Look, Jackson Cooper, there!”

Another figure was walking out of the giant grass into the open. White hair hanging almost to the backs of her knees, she moved with calm yet deliberate steps right up to the first plank of the bridge, close enough for Jackson to see the deep wrinkles in her dark face. Eyes like polished black stones, she gazed at Radnor.

Radnor held Beromed's unblinking stare. “Our treaty is split and broken!” he called out. “You've betrayed us for the last time, heathens!”

Beromed shook her head slowly. She stopped, hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath, so deep Jackson could hear it clearly, even over the gurgling of the river. For a moment he felt sure a whole mass of people had breathed in unison. The sound was eerie, inhuman.

Beromed opened her mouth, but instead of words what came out was a noise that quivered like a wail of pain, rising into a high-pitched, warbling call that sent a shiver up Jackson's spine. He stepped back as if from a blow. What kind of people were these? Couldn't they even talk?

The wail ended as quickly as caught breath. The drummers brought their sticks down in a beat so sudden and powerful that Jackson could feel the throb of it in his chest, as if he had another heart. The earth seemed to tremble with the sound. He flinched, as did Yed and several other Timmran soldiers.

Radnor, however, stood unmoving, his face a picture of fierce determination. “We are the Steadfast Order, the Army of Timmra,” he announced. He held up his palm with the circle and triangle for Beromed to see. “We have powerful magic.” He cut a quick glance in Jackson's direction. “Leave Timmra and take your people with you!”

“Get out of here! Go away!” Yed shouted.

“Go away!” the soldiers chorused.

Yes, do go away
, Jackson thought.
Everything was great until you weird people showed up.

But Beromed acted as if she didn't hear, didn't care what Radnor or anyone said. She looked toward the sky, where clouds appeared to be growing thicker by the minute, and once again took a deep breath.

This time, though, instead of the unearthly wail, she sang, her voice sweet and clear, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The drummers brought their sticks down again, not with a great bang, but in a soft, steady beat that matched Beromed's voice. Together, drum and song became music that floated up into the air like birds on a gentle breeze. It filled Jackson, resonating in his body as if he had become an instrument himself. Despite the situation, he couldn't help thinking it was beautiful, like when Tessa had sung him into a dream and danced with him at her house. Now he found himself taking a deep breath, too. A soft note began in his throat.

“False magic!” Radnor cried. “She's trying to put a spell on us. Drown it out!” He pulled his dagger and sword and began to clang them together. All around Jackson, soldiers did the same, banging swords, axes, shields, and spears, until the Yakonan music could not be heard above the din.

Beromed stopped, as did the drums.

“Silence!” Radnor ordered.

The clanging of weapon against weapon halted. Radnor pointed his sword directly at Beromed. “Enough of your heathen trickery! You've brought pain and suffering down on us, and now it's your turn to pay the price!” He glanced at Jackson again, then sheathed his sword and dagger and took his bow from his shoulder. “Pay for it ten times over, you stinking Yakos!”

“Stinking Yakos!” cried Yed and the other soldiers of the Steadfast Order.

Jackson watched tensely as Beromed turned her face into the breeze and sniffed it the way an animal would, when searching for a scent. Jackson sniffed, too. The air smelled of rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Beromed looked back at Radnor, returning his stare for a moment with unreadable, unwavering black eyes.

Out of the corner of his vision Jackson saw Yed ease his hand onto his quiver of arrows, fingering a shaft, and he thought of doing the same. But before he could act, Beromed sensed Yed's movement and leveled her gaze on him with such intensity that it made Jackson's breath catch. Beromed eyed Yed for a long moment, then Radnor. She nodded once and abruptly turned away, motioning to her council of elders. They picked up the drum and moved it off the road.

Relief rushed through Jackson. Beromed and the Yakonan were backing down. Radnor had won! They, the Steadfast Order, had won! And he, Jackson Cooper, had marched into battle as one of them! These strange and dangerous Yakonan—those
Yakos
—had been defeated, turned into cowards, like magic!

They could sense his power, Jackson was sure. Pride swelled in his chest. He reached up and grasped the stone pendant. The surge of warmth and confidence flowing from it into him was unmistakable now. And strength. He could feel it building, like swirling water behind a dam, ready to burst forth, to do his bidding. He felt brave, braver than he had ever felt in his entire life.

He admired the circle and triangle on his palm. “
The symbol of unity and all-encompassing strength for what is right before Zallis
,” Radnor had said. Jackson nodded. Well, right had prevailed, and he had been part of it. Tessa would be so proud. He hadn't let her down. He was a conquering hero!

Now if he could just find that girl. Where was she anyway? He looked around. No Timmran women were to be seen. He hadn't noticed before, but clearly this was a men-only army. Maybe now that the battle was over, he could go back to the village and—

“Curse you, Beromed!”

At the guttural shout, Jackson pivoted to see Radnor glaring across the bridge. Beromed and her council of elders hadn't left as Jackson had thought. They had only moved to the side and set the giant drum back down. Now they raised their sticks again as Beromed raised her hand. She motioned, and they began a strong rhythm that rose and fell, not unlike distant thunder. From the tall grass behind her a chilling chorus of wolflike cries rose into the air, and the grass began to thrash back and forth in time with the drumbeats.

“To arms!” Radnor commanded. “They prepare to attack!”

Spears and swords pointed toward the Yakonan. Axes were raised, arrows yanked from their quivers and fitted to bowstrings. Radnor and Yed both looked expectantly at Jackson.

Jackson blinked in confusion and started to ask why they were staring at him like that, when across the river the swaying giant grass parted. Out into the open marched an extraordinary parade of animals.

No, not animals, but Yakonan dressed as animals. Their costumes had been crafted with such detail as to overwhelm the dark faces of those who wore them, transforming them into wild creatures.

“Animal worship!” Yed said with disgust. “They hold beasts steadfast over Zallis.”

The first in line wore a cloak of soft black fur and dragged the flat tail of a beaver. Behind it another had on the hide and head of a great stag. It stamped and pawed at the ground, tossing antlers to and fro. One limped and wore many feathers. It screeched like a hawk on the wind. Next, in slick leather, squatting and hopping, came a frog.

All moved in animal ways to the rhythm of the drums, out onto the bare dirt road on the other side of the bridge, forming a circle that rotated like a giant wheel.

“Now, Jackson Cooper,” Radnor said, his voice full of hushed urgency. He held out his bow. “Make our weapons into guns.”

Jackson jumped like he'd been kicked. “
Guns
?” The word came out as if he'd never heard of such things.

Both Yed and Radnor turned to him. Radnor's brow furrowed. “Yes, guns. The voice of Zallis told me that you would show your power only when it was time, and not before. Can't you see that the time has come? We need your magic weapons
now
.”

A chilling flash of realization came over Jackson. So
this
was why Yed and Radnor had been so interested in hearing about guns.
This
was what they had meant by him helping. He stood stunned by his own foolishness at not getting it before. The voice Radnor kept talking about—the voice of Zallis—had them believing he could actually turn their bows into guns!

“Lead us to victory!” Radnor insisted.

“Yes, give us guns,” Yed said. “We've heard that the Yakonan chew wild roots. It makes them crazy and they fight like madmen with their bare hands. But roots won't keep your guns' bullets from their chests. Help us defeat them in the name of Zallis and the Steadfast Order and you will be worshiped forever!”

Jackson tried to force his mind to work, to come up with a way out, an excuse. But like a frightened child caught pretending, he stumbled over his words. “Uh, well … you see … uh …” He looked around for a place to run. “Uh, maybe we should talk about this …”

Radnor's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, Jackson Cooper?”

Jackson began to back away. “Uh … it's just that … you see, with magic you've got to have … uh, have everything just right, and … uh, I'm not sure if—”

Radnor stepped after him, a menacing look on his face. “Not sure?”

“
Father!
I mean, Radnor! Look!”

Radnor and Jackson both turned at the sound of Yed's startled voice. Across the river, walking into the center of the rotating ring, were two more dancers, each cloaked in golden fur, each with a long mane draped over his shoulders. One was a boy about Jackson's age. The other …

Jackson squinted, trying to get a better look. The other was a girl. She tossed the hair back from in front of her face, a cascade of blond. Jackson shook his head. No, it couldn't be.

Another dancer—a small child—ran with bouncy little steps from the tall grass. She was dressed in the same golden fur as the boy and the girl, and she joined them in the center of the wheel.

It simply could not be.

But it was.

Tessa and Arnica.

14. Vengeance

Radnor's face went pale. “They've kidnapped my daughters!”

Words rose in Jackson's throat as he tried to scream a warning: “
Tessa! Arnica! Run! Get away!
” But what came out was less than a whisper. Tessa was slipping her arm around the Yakonan boy's waist. And he around hers. Together they took Arnica's hands, and they all moved with soft, catlike steps.

“Wh—What?” Radnor stuttered in disbelief. “They're dancing with the Yako!”

Jackson watched dumbfounded as Tessa smiled up at the boy, then raised on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. He gasped and turned to Radnor and Yed, desperate for them to come to his rescue, to tell him that what he was seeing wasn't real.

“It's evil magic!” Yed said between clenched teeth. “The Yakos have bewitched Tessa and Arnica!”

Radnor's face had turned red with fury. He grabbed Jackson and dragged him up onto the wide planks of the bridge. “Give us guns
now
!” he commanded. “We will kill him. We will kill all the Yakos!”

“Kill the Yakos!” Yed echoed, charging up behind Jackson and Radnor.

The soldiers of the Steadfast Order surged forward, too. “Kill the Yakos!” they yelled, shaking their weapons in the air. “Kill them!”