The Five Warriors (The Four Worlds Series Book 1)

by Ford, Angela J.

  “No.” She again noticed how afraid he was and sighed. “I would not be here if I were one of them. After all, this is the Eka Fighting Camp, only potential warriors come here. Tell me, why are you here?”

  “I was lost.” He looked confused. “I walked too far from my fishing hole and lost the smell of home. Then I followed the light in the forest and it led me here. The others, down there in the fortress, they said a miracle had helped them escape a prison and they were forever indebted. They said if I want to leave here, I need to learn how to fight, so that I can go home.”

  Alaireia raised her eyebrows. “You followed a light in the forest?” She shook her head at his tale. “Tell me, who are you?”

  Finally he stopped and looked at her. “I am Stamen the Trazame from Trazamy City.”

  “Yes, I could have guessed that,” Alaireia interrupted impatiently. “But who are you? What led you to leave home in the first place? How do you know how to fight like that?”

  “It is as I told you. I was walking the fields and I strayed too far into unknown lands. I did not mean to leave but I lost the smell of home and the light led me here. My mother used to tell my brothers and sisters tales of old, and we would act them out, especially the fighting scenes. It seemed that way again as I was dueling, practicing with you, as if I were the hero in those old tales.”

  “My name is Alaireia the Ezinck,” she began, starting to walk slowly in circles around the Trazame, who now stood quite still. “They call me Lightfoot but those are only names. My people are nearly extinct after the Wyvern attacked Srinka, my homeland. That makes me who I am. My strength sets me apart; no man or beast is able to best me. I am less than I seem yet I am more than I am. To know who I am is to know danger and desire for more. You followed my light yet it was not meant for you. I cannot believe your coming is a mistake. Who are you? One named Stamen yet they call you Starman. You are my equal with the sword yet you show such fear and know so little of this world.”

  The Trazame appeared troubled. He looked back at Alaireia pleadingly. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I just want to go home.”

  NEWS FROM THE OTHER SIDE

  Crinte was troubled. He spent his days planning and strategizing, pouring over maps of the Western World, reading of unexplained oddities in the history of the World, and putting each piece of the puzzle together. It was all he could do to force himself to take breaks to practice his skills with the sword at the training grounds and spend time instructing new recruits. Thoughts solely focused on the war, he knew they had to act swiftly, in such a way it would not only bring Ackhor around, but all the numerous armies on the southern side of the Sea. King Arden of the Country of Norc in the west had been kind enough to turn a blind eye, knowing full well what Ackhor and Crinte intended to do: build a well-trained army that was loyal to no king or country, strong enough to overthrow every deity in Mizine. It was a concerning political move, for, after all, a ruler must be conscious of those who seek to overthrow their kingdoms. Some Rulers of the Countries of Mizine had already issued harsh edicts and repercussions for those attempting to join the rouge army. For some the threat of a loss of status was enough, for others the removal of limbs, time spent in the stocks, or a flogging kept them in reserve. There were reasons Ackhor and Crinte kept quiet. All the same, Crinte knew it was those in authority he had to daringly visit and persuade of their dire situation. Yet, irritatingly enough, there was still something missing.

  Rifling through disorganized papers, he momentarily lifted a thick piece of parchment depicting an aqua battle scene. A Cron stood on a shore and in front of him rose a great and terrible monster. Eight unwieldy arms and legs, longer than an elephant’s trunk, flailed in all directions, a few reaching for the Cron as if to crush him. It rose out of the water, three times as high as any castle, with large round eyes, black as ink, sucking out the brave Cron’s soul.

  Shuddering, Crinte dropped the drawing back into a pile. There were many known and unknown dangers throughout the world; those who followed had to be willing, as he was, to take the brunt of the risk upon themselves. Crinte remembered days past when he traveled the southern end of the Western World from coast to coast with his father. Adventures in a time of peace were appealing, but adventures in a time of war were another thing entirely.

  Loose papers scattered as he stood and turned to the small barred window. Sunlight tentatively warmed his tan cheeks as he crossed his muscular arms and closed his strained eyes. Memories danced with visions of golden fountains and winged creatures playing the most delicate music he’d heard in his life. Thoughts flitted back to the intoxication of the Afrd Mounts, a crisp, cool air blowing on his face, and the freedom of standing on a mountain top, looking down at the world with everything he desired within his reach. He remembered the weightless feeling of flying on the back of one of the most fearsome creatures of the air, and seeing the kingdom in the sky from afar. He recalled the mysterious secrets of the Algrema Forests and the waterfalls creating a trail into the innermost sanctuary where the Ezincks dwelt and taught him how to live off the land. Reality came thudding back as the terrors of the prairie once again materialized before him. All was not beautiful. Now, if he let it go, his memories would be nothing more than an exquisite dream.

  With a sigh Crinte turned back to his maps and again studied the lands on the other side of the Sea. They were his weakness. He knew the lands to the south by heart, but walking blindly into enemy territory in the north would lead to certain death. His attempt to send scouts ahead had failed miserably; Marklus had been captured and Alaireia had become too distracted rescuing him. Again he wished he had been able to send the two off together to combine their unique strengths. A heavy handed pounding on the door dispersed his thoughts. Perturbed, Crinte quickly crossed the stone floor and flung open the door to reveal Elam the Gatekeeper. A disgruntled look was plastered across his face as he mumbled, “A Legone the Tider is here to see you.”

  Crinte turned the name over slowly on his tongue. “Legone the Tider?”

  Elam the Gatekeeper nodded.

  “Please, bring him here.” Crinte paused and added, “Your guards will not be needed.”

  With a huff of impatience at Crinte deliberately undermining the rules, Elam the Gatekeeper marched down the hall to escort yet another unaccountable guest to Crinte’s chambers. Crinte shut the door firmly as a chill shook his body. He attacked his disorderly papers again until he found it. He held it up to the light. An Xctas, a great winged bird with a sharp beak and far seeing eyes stared back down at him.

  Legone should have been exhausted. After all, his four week journey from one side of the Western World to the other would have taken any normal person months. An Xctas, a great winged bird, had taken him from the deep mountain ranges to the prairie ground. From there he had run as if the ground were crumbling beneath his feet. The journey was all it took to make up his mind. Now, standing inside the walled fortress, he was reminded of how much he missed the freedom of the mountains and forests. Already the walls were closing in; the ceiling felt like a weight pressing on his heart. Legone bowed his dark head as he waited for the One he searched for, ignoring the curious guards around him. Part of him felt relief that he no longer had to carry his secret alone. At least the burden would be passed to another. The sound of his name jerked him out of his thoughts. The procrastinating Gatekeeper waved his hand, motioning for Legone to follow him.

  As Elam the Gatekeeper ushered the guest into Crinte’s private room, recognition flooded Crinte’s memory. The name on the Gatekeeper’s tongue had sounded familiar, but the image of the Tider standing before him rang clear bells of warning in his mind. Legone the Tider was as tall as Crinte remembered, standing just over six and a half feet with piercing sky blue eyes that mirrored the view from mountain peaks. His aura was just as stiff and frosty as the unrelenting walls of the mountain, rugged and craggy, warning of danger but promising life to those who survived. Long chestnut hair tumbled down his broad sho
ulders almost to his waist. It was loose and tangled now from the Tider’s journey, and in some cases leaves and twigs still clung like burs to his long strands. His muscles rippled under his forest green tunic and on his back a sheath of white-tipped arrows and an engraved wooden bow rested. He looked down at Crinte over his long, pointed nose and extended his hand, all the while no trace of emotion softened his hard features.

  Crinte looked past the Tider and nodded at Elam the Gatekeeper to dismiss him. “Thank you.” Crinte knew he appeared calm and collected but truth be told, the sight of the Tider fresh from the mountains troubled him. “Why have you come here?” he asked as soon as the door shut.

  The last time he had seen the Tider was at the edge of the Dejewla Sea. Headstrong and young, a prince of the mountains, Legone the Tider had chosen to follow his restless heart and cross the Sea. Since he had begrudgingly guided Crinte and his father through the Afrd Mounts, they were happy to provide guidance to the Sea. From that time Crinte knew Legone was full of wanderlust and selfishness. He paid no heed to the rules of his people and instead chose to live free and lonesome. Yes, he was skilled with the bow and arrow and friends with all the wild beasts of the land. Yet, the fact Legone the Tider arrived at the Eka Fighting Camp at all was unsettling. It was strictly against his character to join any sort of cause unless he was to benefit from it.

  “Can I not go where I please?” the Tider asked, his voice quiet. “Crinte the Wise, I know it has been long since we met, but I have news for you.”

  Crinte finally took his hand. “Legone, are you aware that Ackhor is the leader of the Fighting Camp and all knowledge must be shared with him?”

  Legone sneered before brushing those words aside. “If I had wanted to speak to Ackhor I would have asked for him, wouldn’t I?” He purposefully took off his bow and arrows and lay them by the door as a sign of peace. “My words are for your ears, Crinte, because you are the only one who can do something about them. From what I know of you there is no possibility that Ackhor is truly in charge here.”

  Crinte shook his head and offered the Tider a seat before taking one himself. “And from what I know of you, the fact that you are here does not mean anything good.”

  “That depends on how you look at it. Viewpoints are everything.” With those words he took an object from his tunic and laid it on the table. He looked at Crinte and calmly began to speak. “It was 10 years ago to the month when I left the mountains for the very first time. Some said it was a foolish choice. There is a reason we keep to the mountains, they said. We do not deal with those on the other side, they warned. But why not? I was curious. So I went. I can protect myself. So I went. There was no need for fear in that time. So I went. After we parted ways I set loose my boat and took the most beautiful journey across the Sea. My trip was calm and steady but I crossed at such a wide opening it took a fortnight before my vision was graced with the coast of Asspraineya. During that time I partook of dried meat, berries, and nuts to sustain myself and drank the salt-less refreshing Sea water which tasted of the dreams sea creatures are made of. My Xctas flew above me by day and rested on the prow of my boat by night, watchful and cautious, unlike myself. When at last we arrived and climbed the sandy knoll, I pulled my boat up on the shore, yet a sneaking suspicion arrested me. Feeling like a trespasser, I pushed my boat back out to Sea, cutting myself off from Mizine. My journey was not full of backup plans to return home. Forward was my only option.

  “The land was surprisingly sandy and further inland that sand turned to dust and rock, quite different from the nourished lands to the south. I roamed aimlessly here and there, living off the land. Every now and then I stumbled upon a small town or large city full of people much like you and I. They had adapted to the strange land and did not seem to mind the long, hot days of intense sunlight, or the cool nights that were my favorites. The land stretched on barren and bleak, yet at times I would lie outside at night, watching the multitude of stars and enjoying crisp, cool night air. It was then I felt at peace with my decision and my nomadic lifestyle continued.

  “I cannot say that I was lost; there was no road for me to follow, no end goal other than life itself. Yet one day I heard crashing waves, and climbing atop my Xctas, flew over the eastern end of Oceantic. Waves pounded against the shore, demanding obedience. Seagulls wheeled below me, calling, nay, shouting with joy to each other. My heart overflowed and I leaped from my Xctas only to find the breath knocked out of me when I reached those icy waves, foaming over my head and calling me under. At first I thought it was the end until a slick wet body lifted me and up popped an otter to laugh at my folly. Who knows how many months I spent by Oceantic living the life of a sea creature myself. It was when my Xctas began to fly off for days at a time that I determined to follow it. Oceantic would always be there for me to return to. Again, hiding my presence I wandered through canyons and valleys, barren lands and sandstorms, terrible winds, and freezing snow until I reached the border between Asspraineya and Slutan where a great green forest grew.”

  His words dropped away into silence and for the length of a few breaths, there was nothing. His eyes clouded over, no longer seeing Crinte across the table, as if he were being transported back into his deepest, darkest memories. He shook his head once as if trying to clear it, to determine what words were needed and what knowledge needed to stay hidden, for now.

  “I have told no one of the time I spent on the other side. They know I left. They know I returned. And life continued as it always did. The sun rose, the sun set and yet I always saw it through the eyes of another and I wondered if I had made the greatest mistake of my life. Walking into the forest was like stepping into an ethereal world. It was as if time stopped and the years fell away like snowflakes in the sun. I cannot tell all that I learned there, only, I fell in love with the forest. I fell in love with its creatures. Yet all was not as if seemed.

  “It has always been rumored there are immortals among us, if only we open our eyes. We have seen them and yet we haven’t, but I have and I am ruined. I cannot tell if I am one of them or not, but it seems likely they would have poisoned me with their soullessness. Some days I believe I am immortal and at times I wonder if my body continues to age, or if all was halted by dwelling too long in their presence. The Green People are real, their stories are truth, and they awoke a great evil, deep in the forest, and allowed it to grow. No, that is not right. They encouraged it to thrive and once it became too strong for them, instead of destroying it, they unleashed it. That darkness is what is coming for us, that darkness causes the transformation. How you ask?

  “There is a power known to the immortals, the power of life and death, and few immortals are born with that power. Those who have it live hidden because they know others will abuse those powers. But the truth is, they remain hidden because they know there is a ritual that if performed will allow powers to be transferred from one immortal to the other. And there is one in need of those powers for his plans to come to fruition.

  “You know of the Four Worlds; the North World, the South World, the Eastern World and ours, the Western World. There are greater beings, born out of creation and dwelling in the South World. Among many desires, one of them is to merge the Four Worlds and rule them as one. The purpose is yet unknown, but to join all Four Worlds together into the middle of Oceantic would take great power and the move itself would cost many lives. Unless, a hardier People Group could be born that would endure such a drastic transition. If the worlds were moved together there is no knowing what ancient immortals might awaken from the deep, or what others would be attracted to such a feat of power. An act of such magnitude is a challenge and demands an answer, and should the beings succeed, they are asking for war, and will need a stronger People Group to go to war for them.

  “Why, you ask, should the immortals play with us in such a way? How are we to withstand such power? We cannot. Which is why, in all my years, I have never come forward with this knowledge, because what is the point? But now tha
t it has begun, I rue the day the immortals thought they could play with mortals. We should not make it so simple for greater beings to take over our world and wipe out life as we know it for a superior People Group. I refuse to live to see such days, which is why I come to you now. You know the Western World and have traveled it like I have, living off the land, satisfying your wanderlust with no other purpose. Were those not the happiest days of your life?”

  His words drifted into a muted silence, settling heavily throughout the room. As Crinte took in the words of Legone the Swift a dread sat heavy on his heart. With the news Legone had brought him, he doubted anyone would follow him if they knew the truth. He looked back up at the cool eyes of Legone. “Why now?” he puzzled. “Why come to me with these warnings now?”

  Legone stood. “See, you already believe me although you mistrust me. Years ago my words would have been the ravings of the mad one.”

  Crinte pointed to the small object on the table as he rose. “And what of this?”

  A shadow of pain passed over Legone’s face, almost too quickly for Crinte to see. “Keep it.” He backed away. “It is a token too strong for myself, the power of mind control. You of all people are wise enough to control it, but I warn you, it is your gamble now.”

  The object glittered at Crinte as he uneasily gazed at it. “How did you come by this?”

  Legone picked up his quiver of arrows and gently fitted it on his back. His eyes focused on his bow as he mumbled in a low voice, “The creatures of the wood gave it to me, just in case.”

  Sensing the end of Legone’s open confession, Crinte moved to open the door for him. “Thank you, Legone. You have risked much to come here, and I would prefer these words not pass lightly between any others.”

  “As you wish. But should you and I fall into their hands, there are others who should know the truth.”

  “I will ensure the truth does not stop with us. But let us speak of this no more.”