Phyllis reached for hers, holding it up in the dimness of the forest. Sprawled across the silk was a word. Just one word, and one she could actually read because it was in the common tongue. It said: “Beware.”
She put it down, her hands shaking. Swallowing hard, she turned to Cuthan. “What does yours say?”
“‘Mindless’,” he replied, “I’m not sure what that means.”
“Mine says ‘Monrage.’” Artenvox spoke through a mouthful of food. “I’ve never heard that word before. What does it mean?”
Cuthan shrugged his shoulders as Ilieus crawled out. She’d taken the time to braid her hair into a crown on her head. “What is it?” she asked as the others stared at her.
“A gift from the creatures of the wood.” Phyllis held up the silk cloths. “They left us a message.”
Ilieus turned, holding the silk napkin up, her blueberries spilling everywhere. She held the wedge of cheese while shaking acorns over the bush. They thumped along the ground and disappeared among the leaves. “‘Blended,’” she read.
“Blended. Beware. Mindless. Monrage.” Phyllis repeated.
They looked at each other, unspoken questions rising and falling in their minds. It was Cuthan who shrugged. “We should go, although I was hoping they would bid us goodbye.”
Ilieus walked up to him, reaching out a hand to take the silk cloth with the words scribbled in black ink. Her fingers brushed against his as she took it; a thought danced through her mind, out of reach, too far away to see. She examined it, her face a mask of confusion, before handing it back to Cuthan and walking away.
They followed her, leaving the quiet havens, although they wanted to stay. When Phyllis looked back to capture the odd world in her memory, all she saw were fingers of fog as if the havens had never been there. It was then that she heard the voice of the flute again. It seemed to be coming from the treetops as it played the song of death, a heart-rending tune yet there was a warning beneath its’ longing voice.
The air grew warmer as they flitted through the forest. Time and again, they heard hushed whispers, the voices of the wild calling to each other. Even with the birds chirping and the beasts of the air calling to each other, something else was growing in the forest. Furry creatures chattered from the treetops, angrily scolding the four as they continued their perilous journey northeast to the realm of the dranagin.
One day a darkness hung heavy in the air. Although they were used to the dim light of the forest, now the daylight seemed to fade into a sulky hull, hiding its face from the shadows of the forest. The trees above grew thicker, twining their branches together and shutting out the light with the evergreen leaves. A sudden chill began to rise, forcing the four to stay close together.
Their path was unhindered, and shortly, instead of tumbling and struggling their way through the thicket, the ground opened up in patches, where slippery pine needles lay, allowing them to hasten across the flattened ground.
“Have you been here before?” Phyllis asked Cuthan and Artenvox, scratching the back of her neck in unease. Something tickled there, but she wasn’t sure what it was.
“Nay,” Artenvox replied. “The forest has tricks of its own. Mayhap I have been here; mayhap I haven’t. I stayed east while Cuthan drifted west.”
Cuthan glanced back at Phyllis as he strode through the forest, the playful grin returning to his calm face. “What he means,” he clarified, “is that the forest decides where you go. It shifts and changes as it pleases.”
“Not this time.” Ilieus reached for a tree branch to steady her footing as pine needles slipped under her feet. “This time it will let us pass.”
“Is that another one of your…visions?” Phyllis softened her voice as she spoke to Ilieus, trying not to be frustrated with the situation.
“Yes.” Ilieus nodded as she pulled her hood over her face. “It will try to stop us, but it will let us pass.”
“‘It’? As in the forest?” Artenvox paused, searching Ilieus’s hidden face with his sapphire eyes. Phyllis saw something like alarm pass through them.
Ilieus shrugged. She kept her head down as she walked forward.
That night, they camped in the hollow of a tree. Few words were spoken as they watched the gloom of the forest before they finally slept, fitfully and uneasily. Something was approaching, causing the disturbance in the forest. It wasn’t the animals.
The farther they ventured in the wild, the more intrigued Phyllis grew. “Do others come here?” she asked Cuthan as he trailed behind her one morning. “Other Crons and Tiders? Aside from the Treasure Hunters?”
Cuthan was startled; his emerald eyes were wide as he ducked his head below an overhanging bough. “Mayhap,” he remarked. “But the forest keeps each to his or her own path.”
“Is that why you and Artenvox thought each other dead when you first came here?”
“Ah, you heard that?” Artenvox stopped on a slight swell in the land. There was a gurgling sound from beneath the ground and then nothing.
“Yes,” Phyllis went on as the noise faded away. “You said as much.”
“We came here together, with our fathers seeking…” Cuthan explained. “We started off together, wandering through this beautiful world, but soon the beasts of the forest attacked, and we were separated. Father and I found streaks of blood and clumps of flesh, and we assumed the worst.”
Phyllis shuddered and glanced at Ilieus, who walked on with her hooded head down, lost in her own thoughts.
“We were fine,” Artenvox went on. “Scratched up and shaken. We searched for Cuthan and his father until we were attacked again as if the forest wanted us to be separate and on our own.”
“And what happened to your father?” Phyllis questioned. “You never speak of him.”
Artenvox’s face grew dark, and turning away, he strode rapidly forward with a hand on his sword hilt.
“Now that is a question,” Cuthan whispered to Phyllis as they trudged between the scattered trees of the wood. “I don’t know myself, but I assume it had to do with the finding of his token.”
“And that’s why you are searching for power?” Phyllis confirmed, watching Cuthan.
He grinned, his eyes lighting up as he winked at her. “Life cannot be about getting lost in the wood, growing old in the villages of the south, or sailing on the rough seas of the west. I want the truth. I want knowledge.”
“You want to be like the Order of the Wise?” Phyllis asked, coming to a stop as a sudden wind howled over the treetops.
“I want to know,” Cuthan said.
He may have said more, but his words were lost as the wind roared again, rattling the trees and whipping up the pine needles at their feet. A flock of birds flew through the air, cawing a warning through the forest. Moments later, rabbits bounded out of the wood and dashed away. Ferrets scattered across their path, and the red and white foxes ran together, fleeing the surrounding area.
“Something is coming for us, run!” Artenvox shouted.
Phyllis did not have time to reply; she felt her legs moving again as she ran toward Ilieus, slipping on the ground as she ran. Ilieus was reaching for her; her lips mouthed the word hurry as they moved through the trees.
Another roar echoed through the forest, but this time it wasn’t the wind in the trees or the beasts of the wood fleeing. This time it was a creature that slithered on its belly toward them. It came out of the southeast, driving them north as it chased them.
Phyllis couldn’t help but look behind as she ran, catching sight of the gigantic lizard-like creature. It had four stubby legs with claws at the end that held up its ten-foot-long, brownish body. Those legs moved surprisingly fast over the forest floor, even as they supported the heavy body of the creature. Its scaly skin was a tough bed of armor designed to protect it against the beasts of the wood. As it ran, it waved its tail, half the length of its body, through the underbrush, causing a hissing, rattling sound as it moved. Its face was a long snout, much like the snouts of t
iny lizards Phyllis found near the ponds at home, where the silver fish swam back and forth. Four curved fangs stuck out of its mouth, and when it opened it to roar, she saw another row of gleaming teeth with bits of flesh and blood trapped in those jagged rows.
“Don’t stop!” Artenvox screamed at her. “Keep running!”
The giant lizard saw her watching it and bared its teeth, driving its nose toward the ground and aimed at her. Its round, bloodshot eyes bugged out of its head as it hurtled toward her.
Phyllis felt the same panic she’d felt as the sea serpent attacked, realizing there was nothing to do but wait for it to catch up and pounce. Suddenly all she could hear was the terrible roar of the creature, and its foul breath enveloped her. The rotten stench of death and decay blasted through the wood.
Ahead of her, Artenvox and Cuthan had drawn their swords and were crouching, waiting for the monster to get close enough. At the last minute, the creature whipped its body around, sending its tail slashing through the air, knocking Artenvox and Cuthan off their feet. They landed roughly on their backs; Cuthan lost his sword. He wheezed, attempting to drag air back into his lungs.
Artenvox was faster. He kicked through the pine needles, and he swung at the tail of the creature. He caught the tip and neatly swiped it off, the rattles flying through the air to land untouched at the base of a tree.
“Climb!” Ilieus called standing near the trunk of a tree and reaching for the lowest branch.
Phyllis stumbled toward her as the creature charged Artenvox. He waved his sword and shouted, anticipating the attack, but Cuthan was still flat on the ground, his fingertips reaching for his sword. As fast as she dared, Phyllis snatched a rock up from the ground and hurled it toward the lizard’s snout. It smacked into the creature’s jaw, but before Phyllis could rejoice at her lucky shot, the tail whipped around, throwing her off her feet and dashing her head against the tree trunk. Her eyes met blackness for brief seconds, and she heard Ilieus screaming her name. She tried to rise, reaching for her head as bile rose in her mouth. The world seemed to be going in circles, and she felt dizzy as she saw the lizard strike Artenvox and Cuthan yet again.
Its roar sounded again, flattening her against the ground, even though she attempted to rise. They were going to die there, weren’t they? She could smell fresh blood permeating the air; someone had been bitten. In a fog, she heard shouts and screams, and she managed to sit up, one hand holding her bruised head.
The monster was still at large, and now it turned its fearsome head toward her and roared. Rotten teeth moved closer to devour her, and the scream rising in her throat died as she stared in horror. But just as suddenly, she saw jewels; they sparkled with a light of their own as they drove their way into the creature, and suddenly the cries were from the beast itself as it struggled to get away. Phyllis’s legs trembled underneath her as she stood, grasping for the tree trunk for support, unsure if what she saw was a figment of her imagination.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Hidden in Shadows
“Pharengon!” an excited voice shouted. “What are you doing here?”
Phyllis stared as, indeed, the golden-eyed Horse Lord pulled his Jeweled Sword from the lizard’s belly. It rolled over with a grunt as blackish blood poured from its bowels. Pharengon wiped his sword on the ground and reached for a handful of fallen leaves to finish wiping the blood and guts off.
“Indeed.” He walked over to Cuthan and Artenvox. “We caught up to you just as you were fighting this abominable beast.”
Behind Pharengon, his blond-headed friend, Thangone, placed a foot upon the beast and poked at it with his sword, ensuring it was dead.
Phyllis leaned against the tree to steady herself, reeling from both the bump on her head and the surprise of once again seeing the mysterious Horse Lord.
Artenvox rolled off the ground, holding his arm as he limped up. “Caught up? What do you mean? We left you in Contres!” he announced, but his voice fell away as he gazed down at Pharengon’s sword.
Pharengon looked tired. “Is everyone okay?” he asked, glancing around at the small search party.
“Ah.” Artenvox pulled his hand away from his arm; it dripped red. “It’s just a bite; I’ll live.”
“Here.” Thangone tossed a pack from his back. “I have supplies; let’s clean that up before it gets infected.”
“Phyllis hit her head,” Ilieus spoke up as she dropped out of the treetops.
Pharengon paused; his eyes wandered over them, but his gaze stopped at Phyllis. He held out a hand for a cloth as he slipped his sword back into its sheath. “Let me see,” he said.
Her breathe caught as he walked up to her, his reddish-brown hair dancing widely on his forehead. He’d tossed aside his cloak before the battle, and his Jeweled Sword was displayed clearly in the murky woods. He towered over her as he touched her head, right where it hurt the most. “Phyllis of Haitiar, so we meet again.” His words fell in hushed tones to her ears.
He brushed leaves, dirt, and caked blood from her head; his eyes roamed over her face, questions dancing behind his eyes.
She reached up to grasp his hand, uncertain whether he was real or a dream that kept appearing in her reality. “Pharengon. What are you doing here in the wood?”
Something froze behind those golden eyes. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, squeezing gently before he let go. He turned back toward Thangone, who had finished binding Artenvox’s wound. Thangone handed Pharengon his cloak while Artenvox turned to lead the way forward.
“We’ve been following your trail ever since we left Contres,” Pharengon explained.
“Following?” Artenvox interrupted. “But that’s impossible! The forest shouldn’t let you.” He eyed Pharengon’s sword.
“Contres is a disaster,” Pharengon continued. “I was able to secure a meeting with Kronter, who runs the island. After my discussion with him and the failed attack on the island, it became quite clear that they have nothing to do with the death of the Eastern World. They only seek to capitalize on it. Kronter has a ruthless strategy that only benefits himself and his army. Thangone and I thought it best to follow you here and help you search for the Clyear of Power. Although the people groups flock to the islands, I fear it may be too late.”
“What are the Contrevails doing then?” Artenvox asked, wrinkling his face in confusion.
“They are offering asylum to people from the landmass,” Thangone replied. “In exchange for working their lands.”
“It is the equivalent of slavery.” Pharengon frowned.
“We actually were shipwrecked on the island on our way here,” Cuthan put in. “Ilieus said there was something in the castle.”
“You were there?” Pharengon paused in astonishment. “When? During the attack?”
Phyllis felt a lump growing in her throat as she was reminded of what had happened on Contres. As if mirroring her thoughts, Ilieus grabbed her arm, hugging her close as they stumbled through the forest.
“Aye,” Cuthan confirmed. “It was quite unfortunate.”
Pharengon said nothing else, but his lips turned into a thin line.
“You were lucky to have escaped then,” Thangone said. “The Contrevails plan on taking over all the islands, and requiring a tax for entry. They are using their army to enforce their laws on the islands, but we know they plan on laying siege to Wind Fresh and eventually take it over.”
“No!” Artenvox exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists. “What of Miri and Tharmaren the Wise? Are they safe?”
Pharengon sighed. “We left many Horse Lords there to guard the castle and sent word to our allies in the landmass. Only the Trazames of Nungus Des-Lista are untouched by this. The Dezzi, we hope, will come to our aid, but I fear they will go into hiding rather than stand with us.”
“What did you find in the castle?” Ilieus whispered, her voice somehow carrying to Pharengon’s ears.
“What I will tell you...” His golden eyes looked at each of them, daring t
hem to accept his knowledge. “Is hard to swallow, but I swear it is the truth.”
The forest listened with baited breath, and Pharengon began his tale, his words drifting to every nook and cranny of the silent forest. The lizard was now dead, but the living stayed in hiding, waiting as if something might return and something evil might awaken to destroy them again.
“Tharmaren the Wise was brought here as if out of air and mist or dropped through the clouds. He lives here the rest of his days, but he knew a life before this. He claims he was there when the Western World was taken and when the portals opened and the poison seeped through and the transformed creatures crept into that world. He was there when the Five Warriors arose and took their weapons, their powers, and their armies into the west and vanquished all in their paths. He was there when the land was laid to peace and the Watchers took up their mission to watch over this world lest the evil creep in again, rising up through the ground to ruin us all. Yet he feared something was missing, hidden in the shadows, and only the immortals saw it and only the immortals could survive it and so they did nothing. They hid the knowledge and hid their powers, lest us mortals discover it and attempt to do something about it. But he did find out, and the immortals cursed him and hid him away. They say those that hold the weapons of old, who can find the power that unlocks them from stone, will hold the fate of the Eastern World. It is a burden I did not intend to claim, but it seems none are willing. The path is riddled with death. The Contrevails know this, and they blame the Blended Ones. They believe if the people groups are pure and of one mind, we will be as strong as we were in days of old. Because if the landmass falls into chaos and the islands are saved, the Blended Ones will be no more.”
“It’s not our fault!” Ilieus interrupted, her voice cutting like a knife through the air. “It’s not our fault our parents did what they did. It is unfair to punish us for their choices!”
“I know,” Pharengon replied gently. “But you must remember, one does have a choice when it comes to choosing who to spend the rest of one’s life with.” His eyes caught Phyllis’s and rested there.
The Blended Ones (The Four Worlds Series Book 2) Page 23