The Golden Symbol (31 page)

Lightning flashed through the trees, killing people with massive, sparking bolts. Jacob jumped as the thunder cracked repeatedly. He’d forgotten that Makalos could control electricity.

He watched what was probably one of the best fireworks-and-lightning shows anyone had ever seen. It was so brilliant, he was sure that if he’d been watching with his non-magical eyes, it would have blinded him. The sound alone was enough to make someone go deaf.

Bolt after bolt cracked through the forest. Several of them pierced more than one person at a time.

Coren was there, shouting at his men, screaming them onward. Jacob wondered how he was still standing with how incredibly loud it was. Jacob zoomed in his vision. Coren was wearing earplugs. And so was everyone else—they were following his motions and energy more than his verbal cues. Akeno must have warned them ahead of time.

The lightning flew all around him, providing the best backdrop possible. Coren was huge. He was imposing. And the Lorkon army started to flee before him and his men. Jacob cheered. Still no Dusts were visible—they were all destroyed now. Only the strongest of the army remained, chugging on.

Of course, there were still thousands on their way, not to mention the Lorkon who were hiding from Jacob’s view, but he still grinned at the small victory.

Then the lightning stopped. Akeno must have passed out again. Jacob was about to pull from his vision when an incredibly loud crack slammed through the trees and every enemy within his sight fell to the ground, unconscious.

Akeno had knocked them out.

The archers in the tree started taking down the leaders. Men rushed forward, tying up the knocked-out enemies, and pretty soon, Coren had a sizable number of prisoners. Jacob already knew that all the prisoners would be taken to Azuriah’s fortress, where they’d be held in the basement dungeons until things were resolved one way or the other.

Realizing again that Akeno wasn’t doing anything anymore, Jacob returned to the door and the others. He was surprised to find that Dad and Gallus weren’t there.

“Where—”

Matt glanced up from Akeno.”We got attacked. Dad and Gallus are leading them away. They said to go as quickly as we could to the next door and to wake Akeno up there.”

Jacob yanked the Key from his pocket and shoved it into the lock, Keying them to the third door. He helped drag Akeno through the link, then slammed the door shut. “What do we do while waiting for them?”

Matt was already pouring Kaede Sap into Akeno’s mouth. “There isn’t much of this stuff left. Did he tell you where to find more?”

Jacob shook his head.

Akeno stirred, coughed, then struggled to a sitting position. He rubbed his face, his hands shaking.

Jacob looked at Matt, ignoring the clashing swords and shields that weren’t far away.

“What do we do?” Matt mouthed.

Jacob shrugged, not sure, his eyebrows knitted. If Akeno died from all of this, the victory would hardly seem worth it.

“You okay, Akeno?” Jacob asked.

Akeno took a deep breath. “I’m not going to be able to go much longer.” He glanced at Jacob and then Matt. “I’m going to send a little bit of everything one last time. I . . . Just make sure you move me somewhere safe when I fall unconscious again.”

Matt nodded. “Sure thing. Be careful.”

Akeno put his left hand on the tree next to him and looked at Jacob. “Do you have that antidote?”

Jacob patted his pocket. “Just the one—everything else is at the Fat Lady’s cabin.”

“Good. You’re going to need it. A Lorkon has entered the forest.”

Finally
. Jacob’s heart flopped and his breathing sped up. It was almost his turn.

Akeno closed his eyes, and a loud, brief clap of thunder boomed through the canyon. Many people screamed, and Jacob noticed a grin on Akeno’s face. He smiled too, then Time-Saw, needing to know where to find the Lorkon.

He found the creature immediately. It was one of Dad’s older brothers—Het, maybe?—and seemed confused. Where were the others? Why had Het gotten separated? His robe was very tattered. Looked like he’d been fighting.

Het was lifting his sword to strike down one of Coren’s men when a huge tree grabbed him, holding him to its trunk. The trunk then grew partially around Het’s midsection. He was stuck.

The tree remained motionless, and Jacob pulled back from his vision. Akeno had slumped down, but this time, he was still conscious, though obviously struggling to stay that way.

“Go,” Akeno said. “Give him the antidote.”

Jacob nodded. He Keyed to the door nearest Het, realizing at the last minute that he’d be putting himself in the middle of the fighting. Nothing to be done about that.

He hesitated before stepping over the threshold, watching a huge Molg fighting a man about Coren’s size. They were right next to the door. Jacob’s breath caught in his throat.

Were the Shiengols absolutely, one-hundred-percent correct about the Golden Symbol? He didn’t want to run through the battle unless he was sure the symbol really would strengthen his abilities. Maybe the Shiengols were way off in their expectations, especially where his powers were concerned. Would it actually—

Jacob jumped through the door, slamming it shut. The huge Molg’s mace sliced through the air. The weapon connected with the door frame in the spot where Jacob’s head had just been.

“Whoa,” Jacob whispered, clutching his chest. The symbol worked. He couldn’t believe how quickly the Molg had dispatched the man, then turned on him. Not even his fast basketball skills would’ve been enough in this situation.

The Molg growled, heaving its mace up again. Once more, Jacob saw the Molg’s intentions a split second in advance.

He dropped and rolled away. The mace thudded into the ground. Jacob grinned, bouncing back to his feet. The Molg growled at him and stepped forward. But just then, another man from Jacob’s side interceded.

“Go, Prince, go!” the man shouted.

Jacob nodded and dashed toward the tree where the Lorkon was struggling.

He should have figured that getting there wouldn’t be as simple as walking in a straight line. He nearly fell into one of the Makalo traps, and in sidestepping it, he almost got slashed through the heart by a friendly soldier. The guy was swinging his sword to hit an enemy. Jacob backed away, still staying clear of the hole. Then he rushed through the fighting people, no longer able to tell who was on his side and who wasn’t.

The forest was teeming with life and not just in the shape of warriors. Squirrels dashed across branch limbs, trying to get higher, and birds squawked from the trees.

Jacob leaped over fallen bodies and continued dodging swords, spears, and fists. He arrived at the tree and pulled the syringe from his pocket, uncapping it.

The Lorkon had nearly freed himself—only a small section of bark was holding him to the tree now. He looked up and snarled as Jacob approached.

“Come to save me from the forest, Jacob?”

Jacob didn’t answer. He tried to control his erratic breathing while inspecting the Lorkon, wondering where to stab him. Neither the Fat Lady nor Aldo had mentioned this part of the process.

“What’s that you’ve got in your hand?” Het asked.

Jacob still ignored him. He’d have to act quickly and stab the guy in the largest section of skin visible—his neck.

Realizing there was no easy way to do it, Jacob dashed forward, syringe ready.

Using the extra strength from the symbol, he predicted Het’s swing and ducked on time. But he was too preoccupied with the first to notice the second attack.

One moment, he was on his feet. The next, he was rolling across the pine-needle-covered ground, and the world was spinning around him. His face burned from a blow he hadn’t seen.

He cradled his cheek, glaring up at Het. Het simply laughed at him, then continued biting, ripping, and working at the bark that covered his chest.

Jacob got to his feet slowly, trying to ignore the pain as it dissipated. He dodged another fist, then sidestepped the Lorkon’s free leg. Finally, seeing an opportunity, he closed the gap between himself and Het and stabbed the Lorkon, pushing down the plunger.

A whole ton of liquid ran down the Lorkon’s neck. Het froze, staring at Jacob, and Jacob backed off, waiting for the change to take place. Why had so much liquid escaped? It shouldn’t have.

Jacob looked at the syringe. There wasn’t a needle there anymore. It had broken off.

He looked back at the Lorkon. The antidote hadn’t even entered the jerk’s body! All of it had dribbled down his skin. Jacob tossed the syringe aside. He needed more antidote, and fast.

He had to get to the Fat Lady’s cabin. He turned, ready to run back to the door, when a soldier called to him.

“Your Highness! Behind you!”

Jacob spun—the Lorkon was ripping off the last bit of bark. He’d freed himself. He glared at Jacob, snarling, and Jacob didn’t need the symbol to know that Het planned to destroy him. He’d finally get his chance to eliminate what he viewed to be competition—and
with
his father’s blessing this time.

“Let’s make this easy for both of us, shall we?” Het said.

The man who’d shouted dashed forward, sword in hand. “Run!”

Jacob didn’t hesitate. He barely even breathed before obeying. He raced away, determined to get to the Fat Lady’s cabin before Het got past the man.

Jacob raced through the forest and reached the door much faster this time—most of the fighting had moved to other areas, and all he had to dodge were bodies and trees.

He shoved the Key into the lock and opened the link to the Fat Lady’s cabin. “I need more antidote!” he shouted, slamming the door behind him. It clicked oddly—hollowly. Jacob looked back to make sure the door was shut—it was—and then he ran into the living area.

“Is anyone here? I need more—”

“We heard,” the Fat Lady said, tossing him another syringe. Her eyes widened. “Behind you!”

Jacob turned and ducked as a knife sailed through the air. It struck the wall behind him and bounced off, skidding across the floor. A human pulled out his sword and stopped at the entrance to the living room.

He pointed the sword at Jacob. “You should really guard both sides of the door, boy.”

But then he gasped. His knees buckled.

Jacob looked around—neither the Fat Lady nor Aldo had done anything.

The man slid against the wall to the floor, blood dripping down his face.

Het stepped up behind him, sneering at Jacob.

He lunged, and Jacob predicted it and dodged. But again, Jacob wasn’t expecting the second attack to come so quickly. He called out as Het picked him up and flung him. He slammed against the wall, barely noticing that Aldo and the Fat Lady had jumped into a frenzy, trying to protect the rest of the antidote by covering the syringes with papers and books.

Het ignored them. He leaped across the room in one bound, landing on top of Jacob. The wind was knocked out of Jacob’s lungs and he struggled, trying to get the huge creature off him.

“I’ll kill you now, boy!” Het shrieked, grasping at Jacob’s throat, trying to twist his neck.

Jacob reached up to grab Het’s hands, but he lacked the strength to break the Lorkon’s grasp. Then he remembered he had a new syringe.

Gasping for air, Jacob fumbled, trying to get the lid off. His eyesight was failing—not enough oxygen. He wouldn’t last much longer.

An idea entered his mind and he obeyed instantly. He forced his body to go limp and his eyes to shut.

Het laughed, releasing Jacob’s neck. Jacob peeked through his lashes. Het had turned to look at the Fat Lady and Aldo, who were shocked, hands over their mouths.

“Your
favorite
boy is—”

Jacob plunged the syringe into the Lorkon’s neck, forcing all of the antidote into the beast.
This
time, none of it dribbled away.

Het shrieked, scrambling back. He froze, staring at Jacob.

No one said anything.

Then he began shaking violently, scratching, clawing at his skin. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell to the ground, convulsing. His body shrank.

The red in his skin lightened, the scabs falling away.

The shaking stopped. Het didn’t move, except for his chest as he breathed. Then, trembling, he raised his hands and stared at them.

“No, no!” He glanced over at Jacob. “I’ll kill you!”

Het lunged forward, reaching, straining for Jacob, who backed against the wall. But suddenly, blood started gushing from several wounds on Het’s body. He looked down and swayed. “Fish . . . Eachan.”

With a gasp, Het fell to the floor, face-first on the dirty rug.

Chapter Twenty: A Dead Son

Jacob scrambled away from the man, shaking blood off his hands. He was covered in the stuff.

“Is he dead?” the Fat Lady asked.

Bile rose in the back of Jacob’s throat. He jumped to his feet and ran into the Fat Lady’s kitchen just in time for his stomach to empty itself in the sink. So much for his big breakfast.

No one said anything as Jacob washed up, trying to get rid of the blood stains on his red robes and black armor.

When he returned to Het’s body, he noticed that the Fat Lady was sobbing. Aldo patted her on the back, a huge smile on his face. It was odd to see her looking so upset and him so happy, especially when their emotion colors showed the same emotions—relief and excitement.

“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked.

“She checked the Lorkon’s pulse. He’s dead.”

Jacob whooped, jumping into the air, and the Fat Lady laughed.

She put her hands on her cheeks. “The first of the Lorkon dead! Oh, hallelujah.”

Aldo left the Fat Lady’s side and knelt near Het. “This isn’t how it went with Ara Liese, was it?”

Jacob shook his head. “No, but I think I know what happened. Eachan and Sanso were going to put Eetu fish water on one of the Lorkon. I bet they did it to him.”

Aldo moved Het’s hand, examining the wounds on the dead man’s chest. “Well, that was an extreme stroke of luck.” He turned to the Fat Lady. “Should we give Jacob the rest of the antidote? I’d rather not get trapped here with another Lorkon.”