By the time he came out of the woods, hints of dawn were beginning to show. Back in the unmagical Land of Lock, Eliesmore hurried home, humming the entire way. He climbed the ivy and elm tree back up to his room, shut the window, and instantly fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed about dancing with the creatures of the wood, and in his dreams, he heard the most beautiful music; the odd song, the contagious joy, and oneness of all who were involved.
It seemed only minutes instead of a few hours later when his mother shook him awake. Eliesmore blinked as daylight invaded his room. “I almost didn’t want to wake you,” Myran said, “you were sleeping so hard.”
Eliesmore sat up and stretched, smiling at his mother, delight from the previous night bubbling over.
“Eliesmore.” Myran sighed and tugged at his shirt. “How many times have I told you not to sleep in your clothes?”
“I’m sorry. I forgot again,” Eliesmore apologized, looking down at his crinkled shirt.
Myran reached out, brushing at the creases with her hand. As she did so, a green leaf fell and fluttered to the floor. Myran picked it up and looked at her son. “You smell like the forest, Eliesmore.”
“I had a dream about it,” he offered, wondering if it had been real.
“I wonder if you are doing what you dream,” Myran said more to herself. She got up to fix the first meal, keeping the leaf with her.
The day passed. Eliesmore spent time helping his mother with the chores: cooking, planting, and gathering wood and water from the nearby river. Sometimes he caught his mother staring at him. Eliesmore considered his future. What would life hold for him? Would he always have to live with his mother in the lonely hut? Would he get to go on a great quest like the Heroes of Old?
Eliesmore went to sleep that night with thoughts of grand adventures. He had not been asleep long when the call woke him up. Leaping up, he threw open the window, a grin splitting his face as he shimmied down the elm tree and raced towards the hill. After that, each night he went out to dance with the creatures of the wood. If his mother suspected, she never said a word.
5
Eliesmore
Year 939
One evening, when Eliesmore was fifteen and finally taller than five feet, the Iaen called him early. He bolted straight up in bed, curious, for he hadn’t had time to fall asleep. Typically the invitation came closer to midnight after he’d spent some time in the land of dreams. But he did not mind the early call because he dearly loved his nights out with the creatures of the wood. Getting up, he opened the window and swung down the elm tree as he did every night. The hill was barren, for he knew the way, and no animals gathered to lead him to the glade. The short journey through the forest did not seem to take as long as it once did. He wound his way through tree and leaf, eagerly anticipating another intoxicating night celebrating with the creatures of the wood. As he drew closer to the dancing circle, he saw a few birds flying overhead, hastening to the gathering. The underbrush rustled as talking animals snuck in, their numbers greatly diminished. Before Eliesmore could wonder about it, a Nigidrain floated in front of his face. Eliesmore halted. All five inches of the beautiful female flickered in front of him. She had long light hair the color of moonlight with a golden crown on her head. She waved a silver scepter in her hand while the crystal jewels of her dress reflected the lights of the night.
“What is happening?” Eliesmore gestured towards the glade.
The Nigidrain smiled as she floated in front of him. “Tonight you are coming with me to learn of the White and Black Steeds, talking animals, and Iaen, young one.”
“Oh. I am called Eliesmore,” he corrected her. “What’s your name?”
The Nigidrain giggled as if his question were stupid. “We don’t tell mortals our names, but since you have danced with us for two years, I dare say you might as well be counted as one of us. I am Irnidrathe.”
Eliesmore smiled at the compliment. “Are we going to the dance now?”
“No.” Irnidrathe’s jewels clinked together as she shook her head. “Every few years we hold a council and tonight there is one. The more important Iaen must gather and discuss what goes on in this world, and the creatures of the wood come together to listen and offer input.”
“Oh. How is the world?”
"What do you know of the world?"
"Very little," Eliesmore admitted. "Tell me what you know."
"Come with me young Eliesmore; I will share with you as we walk to my home.” Irnidrathe started flying away, and Eliesmore followed her. “First, there is something I have to tell you.”
“What is it?” he replied, slightly out of breath as he attempted to keep up.
“Tomorrow is your last night.”
“Last night? What do you mean?”
“To come out and to dance with us. At least the last night for a long time.”
Eliesmore froze and stared at Irnidrathe in horror. “Not come?” he cried despairingly. “I have to come. This is the only excitement in my life. You can’t take this away from me!”
“Eliesmore, it is at an end,” she responded firmly. “We were told to call you, and now we were told to stop. But one day you will come again, we just do not know when.”
“But why?”
“You will know. When you come again. I cannot explain all.”
“I know the way,” Eliesmore retorted, “I can just come anyway.”
“Oh, you won’t. Do you think the forest is always like this? You know the way because we opened the path up to you. Try our patience, and you will be blind to the paths of the forest.”
“Then what will I do? I have nothing to live for and no adventure,” Eliesmore complained.
“What did you do the previous thirteen years, before we ever called you? You were fine then, weren’t you? Even though we have spoiled you with our presence, you will get your adventure. It will probably be more than you want.”
“But I want things to happen now and not wait for some time in the future!” Eliesmore complained.
“Eliesmore!” Irnidrathe turned and pointed her scepter at him, growing angry. “Stop complaining! Do you realize we have our problems here? We don’t have to deal with the fact we are safe and secure and may never have an adventure because it surrounds us! There are much bigger problems in the world.”
“I’m sorry,” Eliesmore replied, a bit taken aback. “I did not think. I thought everything was perfect because you sing and dance every night, and you are surrounded by beauty.”
“No. We live in hiding. The Black Steeds are destroying our kind. The few hours we steal at night to sing and dance are an escape, a way of continuing to hope even though all seems dark.”
“I’m sorry.” Eliesmore hung his head, much subdued.
“But come.” Irnidrathe sighed, flying ahead. “You do not know much of this world. Ask of me and I will share what knowledge I have.”
As she finished speaking, Eliesmore looked up and saw they had arrived at the entrance of a green, mossy cave. Trees grew on either side like guards while bushes and ivy twisted around the entrance like gates, creating an enchanting opening. Nigidrains flew in and out, their glowing scepters lighting up the night. Eliesmore could hear the trickling of water in the distance, and he was amazed at the sights he took in. As he walked inside, the smooth floor cooled his bare toes. Above, Eliesmore saw gems sparkling in the high ceiling and shining in the various passages, which wound up and down and far away. Irnidrathe pointed to one passage. “Down there live the Green People.” She pointed to another. “We store our jewels there.” And another. “The crystal streams flow there.” And another. “Our jeweled halls lie down there.”
Eliesmore stared at the vast halls and gemstones, and suddenly he had a flashback. A faint memory tugged at his mind, something he had dismissed years ago. He thought of the white box, the sea, and the jewels sparkling under his small hands.
“Eliesmore, what is it?” Irnidrathe asked, looking at his blank expression.
; “Jewels,” Eliesmore whispered.
“Come, we will go there.” She fluttered for a minute in front of Eliesmore’s face, bringing him sharply back to the present before floating down one passage.
Eliesmore hastened to follow as they walked down the jewel-lit halls, the twinkling lights seemingly too ethereal to be tangible. The vast hall of treasure revealed mounds of sparkling gems and Nigidrains flying in and out; they were blurs of white against the shimmering colors. Eliesmore gazed in astonishment as he circled the room, too awed to even touch a jewel. He had not seen the world, but he had heard of its unfathomable beauties. The colors of the stones melded together, giving the appearance of being as clear as crystal. When Eliesmore moved closer, he could see the heart of each gem had its own color: pale green, bright pink, blood orange, molten yellow, or rose red. If he stared too long, the colors would shift and change under his eyes, turning paler and brighter in turn, as if each jewel breathed. They came in all sizes. Some were as big as his fist; others were like dust in the wind, floating off to join the lights of the Nigidrains and sticking to their clothing. They had voices; he was certain of it, except how could they? They were only jewels.
Finally, after gazing at the gems for as long as possible, Eliesmore slumped against the smooth cave wall and glanced around for his guide. “Irnidrathe, where did all these come from?”
Irnidrathe flew to a stop, perching on a pile of jewels at Eliesmore’s eye level. She laid her scepter in her lap and rested her hands on it. “They were mined for us. Long ago, before the moles turned to evil. They were great miners and found many mysteries and treasures underground, which they gave to us.”
“They turned evil?” Eliesmore asked in surprise.
Irnidrathe narrowed her eyes as she looked at Eliesmore, measuring how much to say. “Not all creatures are White Steeds,” she began. "Let me explain. These are dark days here in the South World. Everyone, Black Steeds and White Steeds alike, live in fear, and most are hiding.
“Over a hundred years ago, one called Magdela the Monrage ruled the South World, causing an uproar of death, destruction, pain, and, ultimately, fear. When she was sentenced, the Black Steeds remained in control, building a firm rule under the foundation she left them. Now there are the Dark Three; they keep the South World under their rule. Anyone who shows the appearance of resisting is tortured and slain, along with everyone they hold dear."
"Why are they called Black Steeds and White Steeds?" Eliesmore interrupted.
"The name Black Steeds and White Steeds came after the horses. The South World is filled with talking animals, as you know. There are the four main people groups: Crons, Tiders, Ezincks, and Trazames. The Ezincks are rarely seen, and the Trazames have not done well under the oppression of the Black Steeds. There are also the creatures of the wood, my kind, the Idrains. We are called so because the last syllable of our kind ends in 'idrain'--except the Myidraids--Wodnidrains, Nigidrains, Shimidrains, Rainidrains, Falidrains, and Jesnidrains. When we include the Green People, we are referred to as the Iaen. The black and white horses were the first one to choose a side. Afterward, everyone else followed suit, without changing the name. The Black Steeds are those who side with Magdela the Monrage and practice the Great-Black-Evil, also known as dark power. The White Steeds want to restore freedom and peace to the South World; we believe in fairness, law, and the balance of power. Due to the influence of Magdela the Monrage and the Dark Three, the Black Steeds have gained strength. The White Steeds can no longer resist. We spend our lives in hiding, giving up all hope of salvation. The decline of the White Steeds is on the rise, even worse than in past years. The Watchers are searching for the One to save us, yet he never comes." Irnidrathe's shoulders slumped.
"I did not know all of this." Eliesmore frowned; the world sounded quite dark. “But are not all Iaens White Steeds?”
"No, Eliesmore." Irnidrathe shook her head. "Those who come and dance with us nightly are White Steeds, and for the most part, we, Idrains, are White Steeds. However, some creatures of the wood make a choice to join the Black Steeds.
“For instance, the Monrage, although there has only been one, was a half-Green Person. She practiced the Great-Black-Evil. Wodnidrains are also Idrains; however, they are filled with malice against the people groups. The moles I just told you about, mined from the Holesmoles, until the voles persuaded them to side with the Black Steeds. Now the Holesmoles are dark and dangerous, full of twisted passages where many a mole fights and nobody who goes in ever comes out again. There are the black foxes who are shape shifters; sometimes shedding their red coats to turn black. The coyotes hate the white wolves, the skunks spray their horrible perfume at us, and the wolverines are not on our side either.”
“How can you tell the difference?” Eliesmore's eyebrows knitted together.
“You see, one can tell White and Black Steeds apart by their auras. White Steeds typically have a bright glimmer about them. Even with the animals, their coats and feathers are usually lighter and brighter in color. For instance, the white horses, white wolves, and white panthers have brighter colors. Even the woodland creatures have lighter brown fur, and some have streaks of white. The Black Steeds are darker in color, yet some White Steeds never shed their dark coats. One should never judge based on color alone, which is why words and deeds are more important. If you can, always look for the glimmer of their aura. There is also the show of power the Black and White Steeds display. The Black Steeds derive their abilities from the Changers and draw mysterious power from their dark deeds. Most of the power among White Steeds is hidden with the immortals. With the aggression of the Black Steeds, I fear even the most powerful ones of us will continue to live in hiding. This is why ‘Song’ needs to come true.” Irnidrathe sighed.
Eliesmore thought of asking her what “Song” was, but she seemed lost in contemplation. “Eliesmore.” Irnidrathe turned back to him. “You have not decided. What are you? A White or Black Steed?”
Surprised, Eliesmore stuttered out: “I want to be a White Steed because you are and my mother is…I think...”
Irnidrathe looked at him sharply. “Maybe one day you will choose for the right reason: for yourself instead of for others. Once you have decided, your quest to help others will begin.”
Eliesmore said nothing.
Irnidrathe tumbled out of her sitting position and floated up. “Come, Eliesmore, young one. Let me show you the crystal stream.”
Eliesmore cast a last glance at the gems, reluctant to tear his eyes away, although they overwhelmed him. Sighing as they winked at him, he followed Irnidrathe down another passageway. The trickling water he had heard earlier grew louder as they entered a darker cavern. It was close to the end of the cave, and if he looked carefully, he could slip out of it entirely through a back entrance. The gray stone was slippery and wet, and green moss collected in the rocks. Water trickled from the ceiling, dripping onto rocks and rolling with a fluid movement into a stream. Although the water seemed to stand relatively still, it flowed out of the cave, turning into an underground current.
“This is the crystallized stream, which flows into some of the lands of the Green People,” Irnidrathe explained. "They are far-seeing, and sometimes, looking in, we catch a glimpse of what might happen in the future.”
Eliesmore walked towards the waters. “How did this come to be here?”
“If you notice, every night it rains and the Rainidrains come down in the moisture. Most of the time the rain gathers here and drips into this stream. Now look and see what your future reveals.”
Eliesmore knelt and leaned over the water, gasping in surprise when he found his reflection staring back at him. He gazed for a few moments, waiting for something to happen while the crystal stream took its time. He looked until he was no longer looking at himself and the water seemed to transform. He was older. Solemn. In one hand, he held up a sword, the Jeweled Sword he’d found ten years ago. Eliesmore leaped back from the water, a hand clapped to his chest and his m
outh open. “What does it mean?” he asked Irnidrathe.
She was quiet.
As he looked again he thought he saw blue eyes watching him. Then a voice came out of nowhere, fading into the sound of the water. “Beware. Do not let your strong will overrule and destroy the future meant for you.”
Frightened, Eliesmore could only stand frozen as he watched the scene fade, the eyes giving him a last warning look until only the clear water was left. Aghast, he turned to Irnidrathe. “Did you hear? Did you see?” he demanded.
Irnidrathe jumped off a ledge of the wall where she had been standing, waiting. “What you saw and what you heard is for you to know and you alone. It should encourage you; there is the promise of a future.”
Eliesmore stood mutely, letting her words sink in. He did not like the strange ways of the Iaen. “What do you know about my future?” he asked, his guard up.
Irnidrathe cocked her head, considering before she answered. “I do not know your future, others may. I know as much about your future as you know about mine. Come, Eliesmore, young one, do not distrust.”
Eliesmore sighed. “I do not like it when others know more about me than I know about myself.”
“Eliesmore, you will learn. You will know soon; now is not the time. Come, we will go back outside and away from mysteries you do not understand. I will tell you about the time I was invited to dance in the realm of the shining stars.”
“You were!” Eliesmore exclaimed as they wandered out of the mysterious passage of the cave.
“It was decades ago before the South World turned dark, and the stars invited me into their realm. Come now, for it is an outside story.” As they reached the entrance of the cave, Irnidrathe pointed up to where there was an opening in the treetops. “See them? The circle of stars?” Her face glowed.
Eliesmore followed her gaze upward. Each time he danced with the Iaen, he thought he saw the stars spinning. Now he knew for sure.
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 3