The Golden Symbol by Andrea Pearson Read Free Book Online

Okay . . . You’re serious.”
    Jacob parried with the Patriarch. It wasn’t anything like what he was expecting—the Patriarch was fast, yes, but he didn’t always block Jacob’s attacks. The first time Jacob’s sword struck the Makalo’s body, nothing happened. Onyev didn’t even act like he’d been wounded. Jacob couldn’t help but shudder.
    He blocked blows over and over again, finally coming to the realization that the representation of Onyev would never tire. It was like he was a machine. Attacking, attacking, attacking. Only a small fragment of skill was involved, else Jacob would have been killed already.
    Knowing he couldn’t fight Onyev forever, Jacob was forced to go on the offensive, stabbing, swishing, slicing with as much energy as he could. But again, none of his attacks were acknowledged. Onyev kept going.
    Would Jacob have to decapitate the patriarch like a zombie?
    He considered that, falling back to the defensive. Was it the only way to succeed? Could he do that? He didn’t think so. Even the thought of cutting off his friend’s head made him taste bile at the back of his throat. Gross. And anyway, decapitation didn’t feel right—like it wouldn’t work. What else, though? Maybe he would only win if he stabbed Onyev through the heart.
    Then something occurred to Jacob. Makalo magic originated from the left ring finger. Perhaps this representation’s life essence originated there too.
    It was worth trying. Cutting off a finger would be bad enough, but it was better than cutting off the guy’s head or trying to stab him through the heart.
    Jacob concentrated all his efforts on Onyev’s left hand. But Onyev also stepped up his attack, and things got a whole lot faster and more dangerous. Jacob felt sweat pouring down his back. The sun wasn’t visible—he couldn’t see anything but Onyev—but the summer heat was still there.
    Onyev’s advances forced Jacob from the tree. Farther and farther away they fought, neither gaining any advantage. Jacob half expected to bump into a tree or house, but nothing was there but him, Onyev, and the Kaith tree.
    Pretty soon, they were at least a hundred, two hundred feet away. And Jacob remembered the whole objective of these tests was to keep him from succeeding—from reaching his goal.
    He pressed forward, pushing, using the advantage of height to knock Onyev back. With everything he had, he attacked the patriarch. Soon, they were twenty feet away. Then fifteen.
    Finally, Jacob knocked Onyev’s sword down.
    Before Jacob could rethink it, he hit the patriarch’s hand with the blade of his weapon. He looked away at the last moment, not wanting to see Onyev lose his fingers.
    Onyev’s representation gasped, and Jacob looked back. The Makalo stared at his left hand, now fingerless. It didn’t bleed.
    He fell to the ground. Then disappeared.
    Jacob bent over, hands on knees, relieved. He gasped for breath—he hadn’t even been aware he’d become winded.
    The sun was still gone, but a bright light shone from behind the Kaith tree. Jacob approached it, wondering what else was in store. Weren’t there supposed to be three tests? Hadn’t he heard that somewhere? But nothing happened as he got closer, and he decided he’d imagined it.
    Light washed over him as he approached. He squinted against it, trying to ignore it, and started searching for openings to the secret box inside.
    Jacob searched with his fingers, probing, prying, digging. Nothing. Then he remembered he needed the Key of Ayunli. He pulled it out of his pocket and held it near the tree. Again, nothing happened, no matter which way he directed the key.
    Disgusted, he shoved it back in his pocket and resumed searching with his fingers.
    Jacob pushed farther, wondering if he’d need to pull the tree apart bit by bit without any tools. He pried deeper into the wood. Finally, a huge section of bark sloughed off. Several intersecting seams, now glowing gold, were under the bark, and Jacob