The Golden Symbol (32 page)

The Fat Lady sniffled. “No, we can’t give him all of it, but more would be fine.”

Jacob tilted his head. “How much did the recipe make?”

“Eight syringes’ worth,” she said, handing three to Jacob, “including the one we used on Ara Liese. What happened to the one you had earlier?”

He glanced down, shoving the syringes into his pocket, not wanting to meet her eye. “The needle snapped off.” He looked up. “The dang Lorkon kicked me away right when I was about to stab him. I didn’t know the thing broke until I squirted antidote all over him.”

Aldo chuckled. “Good thing there are extras,” he said. “Two more here, in case something happens to the three you’ve got now.”

Jacob nodded. “I’d better get back—Akeno might need my help, and there are still three Lorkon.” He had a sudden idea about where they could be hiding and checked, Time-Seeing. He was right. He pulled back. “They’re hiding in the tree in Taga Village.” He looked down at Het. “What are we going to do with the body?”

“Give it back to Keitus, I say.” The Fat Lady’s eyes were dry now, her arms folded.

Jacob Keyed to a door close to the meadow, and, with the help of the other two, rolled Het out of the Fat Lady’s cabin. It took them several minutes, but they finally got him to the grass of the meadow, ignoring the next rush of soldiers from the enemy’s army. The soldiers didn’t ignore them, however, and soon, Jacob and his two friends were surrounded. No one touched them, though.

Jacob heard several snickers as he and the others grunted, continuing to push Het farther into the meadow.

“Keep it up, keep it up!” someone called.

“Look at those muscles—tsk tsk.”

“Such a woman.”

Jacob’s cheeks flushed and he couldn’t help checking out his arms—they were fine. Definition in the right places—he really worked on them a lot. So, the soldiers must’ve been referring to Aldo. Or the Fat Lady.

Finally, when they were closer to the tree, Jacob straightened. He turned full circle, staring at the soldiers around them, glaring. He then pointed at Het’s body. “I’ve killed a Lorkon. This is Keitus’s oldest son.”

He, Aldo, and the Fat Lady stepped back as several of the soldiers walked forward, inspecting Het’s body.

“It really is him,” one man said, meeting eyes with another.

The soldiers murmured, stepping away from Jacob and his friends.

Jacob took advantage of their hesitation. “Keitus!” he yelled toward the tree. “Come see what I’ve brought you!”

It didn’t take long for Keitus to open the door. What were they doing in there, anyway? Researching? Going through Aloren’s clothes?

Keitus stepped outside, hunched over in his long, black cloak. One other Lorkon—Ferron—followed him. Where was Isan?

From this far away, Jacob shouldn’t have been able to see the Lorkon’s emotions, but because of the symbols around his eyes, he could. Keitus was curious at first, then caught sight of his son.

Curiosity quickly turned to anger.

He screamed, throwing back his robe, taking a step in Jacob’s direction.

Ferron grabbed him. “Keitus—”

But Keitus shoved him away and stormed forward, reaching the outer ring of soldiers. “
What
have you
done
?”

Jacob stood his ground, the Fat Lady and Aldo tall on either side of him. He opened his mouth to answer, but one of the soldiers spoke first, staring at the dead body.

“He’s not a Lorkon anymore.” The man looked up at Keitus. “You’re not immortal? You said there was no reversing your strength! That victory would be unchallenged!”

Several of the men shifted, murmuring, eyes flicking back and forth between Keitus and the body.

“Of course he’s not immortal,” Jacob said. “And Keitus, it was
I
who turned him into a human and killed him!”

He didn’t think it important to mention that an Eetu fish had helped.

Keitus roared and rushed forward. Jacob and his friends spun, running away. Jacob prayed the distance between them and Keitus was great enough.

It wasn’t difficult to get through the ring of enemies—they parted easily and quickly, not wanting to be near Jacob and the others. Their discomfort and unease were clearly visible, and despite Keitus’s anger, Jacob couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

He glanced back long enough to see Keitus hesitate, probably trying to decide whether to go for revenge or to convince his men to continue fighting.

The hesitation was long enough to allow Jacob and the others to disappear into the woods. They ran as fast as they could, dodging bodies, trees, and pits in the ground. Keitus shouted in the background—he’d soon motivate the men to fight again. The fact that he could kill them with one touch probably added an incentive.

Jacob spotted a door and veered that way, wanting to get as far away from Keitus as possible and closer to his family and friends.

Just as he was about to create the link, Aldo put his hand out, stopping him, panting. “Do you hear that?”

Jacob shook his head—he only heard the sound of swords and shields. He strained, concentrating. “Hear what? Where’s it coming from?”

Aldo pointed. “Over there. I heard someone call your name.” His eyebrows went up. “Oh! There it is again.”

Jacob heard it too. “Sounds like—”

“It’s Gallus,” the Fat Lady said, her eyes big.

The three of them charged in the direction of Gallus’s voice—Aldo and Jacob quickly lost the Fat Lady. Jacob prayed she’d be okay. Then Aldo lagged behind too and Jacob put on a burst of energy.

Gallus called once more, his voice cracking, much weaker this time. “Jacob! Dmitri! Anyone!”

Jacob rounded a huge bush and nearly stumbled into the back of the missing Lorkon—Isan.

He spun, saw Jacob, and glared. He held Gallus by the head, and judging by his quickly fading emotion colors, Gallus wasn’t far from death.

Jacob whipped out his Shiengol pole. “Drop him. Drop him now!”

“As you wish.” Isan tossed Gallus to the side. The man landed in a crumple, and Isan faced Jacob. “
You
want to fight me now, do you?” Isan laughed. “I’ve already . . .
dispatched
. . . many of your soldiers. So,” he beckoned with a finger, “come, then.”

Jacob didn’t need to move or swish his robes to gather energy. The symbols around his eyes did it for him, and he felt the pressure there build up as his anger and frustration increased. He molded the air into a shield.

Isan laughed, seeming to notice the pole for the first time. “Oh, no! Scary. A little stick and a see-through shield.” He clicked his tongue. “Not very intimidating, Jacob.”

The smile left his face. He crouched, glaring.

Then attacked.

Jacob barely got his pole up in time to block Isan. The Lorkon was so fast! Even with the extra power, Jacob could barely discern what Isan’s next move would be.

Jacob swung repeatedly, slicing his pole through the air. Isan laughed, easily knocking it down.

“Come, boy. You’ve got to do better than that!”

He was right. But Jacob didn’t know how. For several moments, doubt and uncertainty flooded his system, nearly rendering his brain useless. He fought through it—he had to stay in control! No giving in.

Taking a breath, watching for Isan’s next move, Jacob decided to go for the over-exuberant type of fighting that Azuriah and Dad both hated—the flailing and dancing around—hoping it would distract Isan or at least wear him out.

He spun into a flurry of action. He almost stabbed Isan several times with the spear on his pole. Isan growled, also lashing out. His sword caught Jacob’s robes, throwing him to the side. Jacob bounced back to his feet.

He was surprised to find that the more energy he put into the fight, the more he got out of it. How was this possible? The symbols weren’t adding to his fighting power—of this he was sure. They couldn’t give him experience or talent he didn’t already naturally have. So what was going on?

As they continued, it slowly dawned on him. As he already knew, the symbols allowed him to discern Isan’s desires just moments before they were carried out. And because Jacob was an athlete—because he’d spent so much time on the basketball court—he was nimble. He was fast. And he could make split-second decisions that greatly impacted the outcome. The symbols gave him power, which gave him confidence, which increased his energy and speed. Cool!

For a while, neither gained on the other. Jacob tried hard to keep the grin off his face, but he failed. And it really bothered Isan.

Isan started making foolish mistakes, in his anger and possibly even his inexperience at fighting as a Lorkon. They most likely didn’t spar much back in Maivoryl City. But if Jacob had been fighting Keitus, Jacob would’ve been dead already—he was sure of it.

While circling, parrying, blocking, and attacking, Jacob became aware of the audience that had gathered. So did Isan.

When enemy soldiers jumped to help the Lorkon, he shoved them away. Jacob used this to his advantage, getting in several strikes while Isan was distracted. It didn’t seem to be doing any good, though, and Jacob remembered that this was an immortal, super-strong being. How was he going to win?

Multiple times, Isan tried to rely on the poisons in his skin to kill or maim Jacob. He grabbed Jacob’s arm over and over again.

But because of the Lorkon blood flowing in Jacob’s veins, Isan’s touch had no power.

Jacob laughed, panting. “You can try to infect me all you want, scum, and it won’t hurt me. Thank your father for that!”

Isan growled and lunged, knocking Jacob down. The Lorkon pinned the pole to the earth and Jacob’s shield flickered, then died.

“Not so brave now, are you?” Isan said.

Jacob tried to turn his head away from the foul breath, but Isan grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Father gave us permission to kill you the moment we found you.” He grinned. “In fact, I believe he’s more than—”

Jacob heard a whoosh of air, then suddenly, everything around them was in flames. Isan screamed. His robes caught all of the fire, inadvertently protecting Jacob.

The Lorkon jumped up, turning. Sanso stood there, flames dripping from his hands, the forest floor beneath him smoldering.

“How
dare
you?” Isan whispered.

Sanso shrugged, folding his arms, extinguishing his fire. His body language showed he didn’t seem to care, but Jacob knew the Ember God was furious. The red that surrounded him was very thick and bright.

Sanso met eyes with Jacob, acting like he was trying to convey something, then looked to Isan, then back again to Jacob, eyebrows raised.

Oh. The antidote.

Jacob pulled a syringe from his pocket.

“You and the other Lorkon have ordered me around enough.” Sanso watched as Isan tried to put out the flames in his robe.

“I seem to remember
orders
for your death.”

Sanso didn’t get the chance to respond. Jacob had the syringe uncapped, and while Isan was distracted, he plunged the thing into the Lorkon’s now-exposed back. The smell of charred robes and flesh surrounded him, but he hung on until every drop of the antidote had been injected.

Isan swatted at his back, as if he were swatting a mosquito. Then his spine went rigid and he looked at Jacob. “What did you just do?”

Jacob grinned, holding up the antidote. “You’re about to become human.”

Isan’s eyes widened and he reached for Jacob, but his hand dropped. The change started taking place before he could do anything. He fell to the ground, convulsing. Pretty soon, his robes were too big. His skin was clear. He was Jacob’s height.

Isan lay on the ground, breathing hard, his mouth open. He got to his hands and knees, then jumped to his feet with a lot more energy than he should have had.

Jacob stumbled away. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting—maybe something like what had happened with Het? But Isan wasn’t injured. Not like Het had been. And the fight wasn’t over.

Sanso jumped forward, swords in his hands. “Come, foul beast. Fight me. Leave the child alone.”

Isan glared at the Ember God. “As you wish.” He grabbed his sword from where it had fallen and without hesitation, he attacked.

The fight would be glorious. Jacob could tell that Sanso was enjoying it too much—his body probably ached for action like this. The Ember God wasn’t using his flames, only his swords, which meant he wanted to drag it out as long as he could.

Jacob dropped to Gallus’s side. The man looked unconscious. Jacob touched his shoulder, avoiding staring at the wounds on his face. “Are you okay?”

Gallus shook his head.

The Fat Lady looked up from where she was wiping off Gallus’s arms. Jacob cringed. Isan had spread disease
everywhere
. “We need the other potion—to rid him of the Lorkon poison. We have to get it in him as soon as we can.”

“Are there any leftovers?”

She nodded. “Back in the cabin.”

“Let’s go.” Jacob wasn’t really sorry to miss the fight—Gallus was more important.

He Time-Saw, found the nearest door, and then he, Aldo, and the Fat Lady half carried, half dragged Gallus that way. It took them nearly twenty minutes to get through the link to the Fat Lady’s cabin. A few times, they had to pull Gallus over dead bodies, since there wasn’t any way around them. Jacob refused to look at anyone or anything, not wanting to throw up again. He concentrated instead on his friend.

Once in the cabin, they laid Gallus on the couch, shoving books and papers out of the way.

The Fat Lady turned to Jacob, putting a beefy hand on his shoulder. “Go. Make sure that
maggot
dies.”

Jacob nodded, then ran back to where the fight had been taking place, wondering as he went how everyone else was doing. Dad. Aloren. Matt. Akeno. He took a deep breath—he was sure they were fine. He heard a horn blow farther in the forest. What was that about? He shrugged, figuring he’d find out later. Then he entered the little grove where the fight was just ending.

Sanso had let his flames loose, and the leftover leaves from the previous fall crackled and smoldered around him.

He didn’t torture Isan, however, which surprised Jacob. Instead, with two blows, he knocked Isan over, then beheaded the man.