“One night, I was late in coming to the dance and stayed along the edge of the glade when a star fell beside me. Its enormity dwarfed me, but all the same, it invited me to come up and dance with them. It placed me among its glorious locks, and with a leap, we went up to the realm of the shining stars. Did you know there are star people as well and other creatures? I do not remember all of it; only there was more freedom and space. I felt light and delighted. We invited the moon; it said another time, and all night long we danced. Even as far away from this world as we were, it seemed we could still hear the music as if we were merely a few feet above the creatures of the wood dancing.” The glory faded out of Irnidrathe’s face. “Those events took place over a hundred years ago. Did you know Eliesmore, the animals never used to come dance with us? Until one day we were visited by Idrains from the Eastern World. They said they always invited the animals. Now we have invited you. I think the time of the separation between mortals and immortals is ending.”
“I wish I could stay.” Eliesmore's shoulders slumped as he hoped an invitation would be extended.
In response, Irnidrathe flitted to his shoulder and stood upon it, her breath tickling his ear. “Don’t give up; you will come again. Look, it grows late. Midnight has passed. Go home and sleep Eliesmore. Come out and dance with us tomorrow.”
“Until tomorrow then,” Eliesmore said as he started walking through the forest.
The Nigidrain flew with him, her jewels twinkling, bringing a smile to his face. He traced his final steps through the woods on his way home.
The next night was one Eliesmore put in his memory to keep him going until the Iaen called for him again. He woke before midnight, the call rich in his heart, and swung down the ivy, clinging to the thick elm tree for the last time. He ran the entire way on light feet until he saw the fire, the animals, and creatures gathering. He threw his heart into the celebration of life, remembering the shining lights, the music, the swaying trees, the animals, the Idrains and their strange ways, the pleasant smells, and the cool air of the forest. The faint light of dawn was already showing through the leaves when Eliesmore headed home, his head full of the forest.
The following night he slept soundly, only waking at sunrise. He opened his eyes, disappointed at missing a night out with the creatures of the wood. He had hoped he would wake up so he could go, but no, they were right, it seemed his dancing days were over. When Myran came to wake him, she looked confused. “You don’t smell like the forest anymore.”
“I don’t dream about it anymore,” Eliesmore replied miserably.
6
Ellagine
Year 936 (3 years ago)
She ran through the forest, leaving the sacred safety net the Iaens had cast around their land. Dressed in green, she moved in and out of evergreen shadows, trusting she wouldn’t be caught and hoping she would not be stopped and questioned. Thoughts and fears whirled through her mind. She was unsure if leaving was wise given the perilous condition of the wild lands beyond the forest. She was traveling to the fortress by the eastern sea, a two-week journey of running for her life through open spaces. Her powers would keep her safe, yet questions plagued her mind. Would the mortals welcome her? Would they listen to her wisdom once she arrived?
A noise startled her from her thoughts, and she pressed herself against a broad tree trunk, waiting for the challenge to pass. She, an Iaen, was an expert at moving silently through the forest. But weren't they all? The noise had stopped, and although she pricked her large, sharp ears to listen, she had yet to hear the quiet pant of breath. She tried to calm herself as she moved forward, agitation made her pale green aura glow, a dead giveaway of her position, even in the dim light of the forest canopy. She danced from shadow to shadow, mindful of the sharp twigs and branches jutting out. She had grown up there, such trifles did not bother her.
Two hands slammed into her shoulders, pinning her against a tree trunk. Her head jerked back, staring into her eyes was the flushed face of another female. The two Iaens stood face-to-face in a standoff. The one pressed against the tree was tall and thin with long colorless hair. which tended to be camouflaged according to her surroundings. Now she was caught, and her green aura began to glow brighter. Her light blue eyes stared coolly into the face before her. The other Iaen was shorter and lighter. She floated off the ground to stand face-to-face with the taller Iaen. Large golden eyes took over her distinctive heart-shaped face. Golden hair tumbled in waves down her back, held in place by a green crown of leaves. “Why are you leaving?” the golden Iaen demanded.
“It is time,” the green Iaen replied without making a move to free herself.
“I thought we agreed. They brought this upon themselves. We should leave them.” The golden Iaen pushed against the green Iaen.
“Think. This folly has been taken too far. We will be overtaken if we do not make a stand. Besides, the time for unity is soon to come. If we are to defeat them, we have to act together. You know this, you hold power, too. We are greater together.”
“To take it to the mortals would be folly. Why are you doing this? What do you care?”
“If you care for this forest as much as I do, maybe you will understand what I am saying. Come with me and see for yourself.”
“Never!” snarled the golden Iaen, her teeth glinting sharply for a moment. She threw herself away from the green Iaen, restoring her feet to the forest floor. “Will you come back?”
“Glashar.” The green Iaen whispered, using a secret name. “You are one of us. One of the Wise Ones. Why do you not see? The time to give up all you hold secret is now. The mortals need us.”
Glashar, the golden Iaen, turned away. “Will you come back?”
“I am Ellagine, Lady of the Green People. You have my word. I will return.”
Glashar turned. “I know you are great and powerful; still, I give you the mark of protection.” She raised a pale hand. “If you leave this land, your powers shall be diminished. This you know. This is my warning.”
Ellagine’s eyes narrowed. Without another word, she crept away into the mist.
Ellagine, Lady of the Green People, had not gone far when, once again, she heard someone following her. She paused; this time the sound was obvious. There was a humming and beating of wings. A small, muscular warrior tumbled out of the sky to land at her feet. Her arms were bare and her garb scant. In one hand she held a bow, and on her back was a quiver of white arrows. Her skin was darker than most Iaens; her ears were large, jutted out, pointed, and curled above her head. Short, black hair hung down to her chin, and as she landed, silver wings folded neatly under the skin of her back.
Visra the Jesnidrain was wild through and through. Her excuse for anything was a good fight; she lived to be a warrior. She was impulsive and unpredictable, changing as quickly as a flash of lightening. In her early years, as a punishment for her fickle ways, her extraordinary powers had been taken away. What little was left only made her a better warrior. “I want to come,” she announced as she landed.
“Come where?” Ellagine demanded.
“To the fortress of the mortals. I can protect them.” Visra waved her bow.
“This is not about protection.”
“Then tell me. You are one of the Wise Ones. You know more than you ever tell. Stop being so vague and tell me your plan,” Visra insisted.
“We cannot talk here. Come,” Ellagine relented.
Grinning in self-satisfaction, Visra spread her wings and flew east, while the forest stood silent in the wake of their blur of movement.
7
Glashar
Year 936 (3 years ago)
Glashar was left alone in the silent wood. It would not be long before the Iaens determined the plight of the world belonged to the mortals. Soon they would venture to the eastern shore and sail to the Pillars of Creation. Together they were a powerful people, but they had learned long ago mortals wanted to exploit and use their gifts for useless purposes. The mortals had been set right by
one called Magdela the Monrage. She had once been a Lady of the Green People, one such as Ellagine. Her desire for proof of a greater power took her away from the forest of the Iaens. She fascinated the mortals who became her followers, and then in the height of her power, they deceived her, blaming her for the devastation of the world and banishing her far from its reaches. Her power they took for themselves and manipulated it for deep evil measures. The damage was unstoppable, and the Iaens determined never again to let their great powers become a tool for the mortals. They made a pact. If the powerful Iaens left their sacred wood, their powers would lessen, and as time went by, they would be lost forever lest they return. Furthermore, frequent use of the powers without returning to Shimla would cause mortality and death.
Ellagine, knowing this, went eagerly out to contact the mortals. All Glashar could feel was anger stirring within her. Glashar was one of the most powerful Iaens. She held the power of life and death. It was too potent for her, and she knew one wrong move, and she would lose her powers forever. Tormented by loss and morality, she left the world to the fate of the mortals; it was none of her business. To join the mortals in their failure would cost her everything.
8
Arldrine
Year 942 (Present Day)
A female Ezinck stood in the thick woods of Truemonix, holding a bow in one hand while twirling a dagger in the other. White-tipped arrows filled the quiver on her back as she watched two males walking in her direction. Both had swords strapped to their waists. The taller one carried a bow, his chin-length brown hair tucked behind his ears. They moved naturally through the wood. The Ezinck noticed the way they held their heads, keen and alert to their surroundings. She stepped out of her hiding place into the path, snapping a twig under her foot to alert them to her presence.
“Arldrine!” the Tider exclaimed in surprise.
Arldrine the Ezinck moved forward to meet them, clasping a fist to her breast in greeting. She thumped her chest twice before laying her palm flat in the ritual of her people. “Idrithar. Zhane. I heard wind of two strangers in the forest from the birds. I did not know it would be you. It has been two years since I’ve last seen you.”
The Cron called Idrithar nodded, his expression stern as he pulled back the hood of his cloak. He stood about six feet tall with warm eyes and light brown hair pulled back in a bun. Half of his face was covered with a neatly trimmed beard. “It is time we returned to take up residence at the fortress again.”
“Yes,” the Tider called Zhane agreed. He was six and a half feet tall with a solid body. Even through his billowing clothes, Arldrine could tell he was built like a warrior from his broad chest and muscled arms to his powerful legs. “Arldrine, I must admit, your being here is unexpected. When we left, you were still at the fortress. What made you leave?”
Arldrine lifted her eyes to the trees, watching the way they moved before waving her hand. “Come,” she beckoned. “I know a place where we can talk in private.”
A stranger to the woods would not have seen a difference in the trees where the three met and the trees where they settled down to talk. Arldrine the Ezinck had grown up in Truemonix and knew its secret places. In a shady area of the forest, where one could not see the sky above, the three shared a light meal of nuts, berries, and dried meat.
Arldrine relaxed against the trunk of a tree, facing Zhane and Idrithar. “I left the fortress earlier this year to return here, home, to wait.”
Zhane frowned as he broke open a nut, scattering shells in the grass. “Why?”
“It is because of what Ellagine said during her last visit. She said the time is coming when the One will arise, and we will need to gather around to support him. I told Ellagine to find me here when the time is right.” Arldrine’s gaze shifted to Zhane’s face, sensing his displeasure; he preferred her safe at the fortress. They’d been friends for the past six years. Although two years ago, Zhane and Idrithar had left on their third trip across the South World. Searching. “I am aware the Black Steeds rule this world. I will be careful. You know I will return again. You have.”
A look passed between Zhane and Arldrine, which Idrithar ignored. He chewed a strip of dried meat thoughtfully. “We trust your judgment. How was the fortress when you left?”
Arldrine pinched her lips together as her face darkened. “The fortress is empty now, ever since the last attack two years ago. Only the brave and few are left. Dathiem is in charge, as you left him. Visra comes and goes as she pleases. Optimistic has his hands full with Yamier and Wekin, the two orphans who were found. The three Mermis are still there. I doubt they will ever leave; you know their fate. Tell me about the world and what you saw.” Her dark eyes looked hopeful, but she knew there was no word of the One.
Zhane and Idrithar exchanged a glance. Idrithar was the leader of the fortress of the White Steeds and had spent most of his life there. Zhane, who had moved there ten years ago, was second in command. Their travels were sparked by their relentless search for the One to end the conflict between the Black and White Steeds.
Zhane spoke first. “The west is overrun as it has been for years. We did not meet any White Steeds there nor heard a word of any. We spent most of our time listening to the horrors of the Black Steeds. Two of the Dark Three are in the west, across the Jaded Sea, and people there feel their cruel powers. There is nothing good to say about the west.”
“Arldrine.” Idrithar took over, keeping his voice low as if the woods were eavesdropping on their conversation. “It has been rumored for many years that another like Magdela the Monrage might rise up. It has been thought several may study the Great-Black-Evil and come to know the deep power of darkness and its temptations. I fear these rumors may come true, within a year even. Monrages will not be some dream of the past, a horror spoken only in passing. They will be real, chasing down White Steeds and seeking to eliminate us so the One will not rise up after all. Keep your ears open because this is what you will have to watch for. You may very well be the first to hear. Especially since you are out here instead of hidden in the fortress.”
Arldrine nodded, unable to speak. The knowledge made her feel as if her heart would quail. For a moment, she wanted to slip back into hiding within the safety of the fortress. The very word, Monrage, evoked certain death. They had not even found the One yet. What would be the point of living if he were not there to save them?
“I will listen, and I will be on guard. You must get back to the fortress safely and secretively before they find you,” Arldrine cautioned the two.
Idrithar brushed crumbs off his cloak as he rose. “Yes, with all haste. We have already seen what the Black Steeds can do to the fortress and our friends.” He started to walk through the trees and then turned back in farewell. “Arldrine, we will meet again.”
She nodded in his direction before turning to Zhane, who still sat before her. Unfolding her legs, she stood and reached out a hand to pull him upward. His grip was warm and comforting. She suddenly missed the familiarity of being around other people. Zhane held her hand a moment longer than necessary. "Will you return with us?"
Arldrine tugged her hand out of his, finding it hard to meet his eyes. Ever since she'd met Zhane, a keen sense had begun to awaken within her. She was unsure what it meant, and it frightened her. At times she questioned whether Zhane felt it too, yet they spent so little time together. "I cannot." She lifted her chin in determination.
Zhane nodded, seeking to hold her gaze, but he did not touch her again. "I thought not, but I had to ask. I know you follow your heart even though I wish you were not alone out there."
"If the One comes in our lifetime, when he comes, I will return to the fortress," Arldrine assured him.
Zhane crossed his arms, towering over her. "There is safety in numbers."
Arldrine raised her eyebrows, noting the irony. "There is little hope in numbers. As you said earlier, the west is lost to us. The Eastern Hill Countries will soon fall lest the prophecy comes true."
"Aye
." Worry creased Zhane's brow. "We hear no word."
“You should go.” Arldrine pointed, ending the conversation. “Idrithar is waiting.”
Zhane’s eyes softened. “Arldrine, stay safe. I will see you again.”
“And you.” Arldrine placed her hand over her heart in farewell.
Then he was gone, blending with the trees until he caught up with Idrithar. The two followed the path of the forest until they faded away, leaving Arldrine alone once again. She lifted her bow. Hope was fading. The One had to come soon.
9
Optimistic
Year 943
Desperation was in the air as the chill of January moved over the South World. A blond Cron walked down an empty hall in the fortress of the White Steeds, which stood at the edge of Oceantic, hidden by a forest. He had made up his mind. He was going away and not coming back until he found the One.
His black boots rang ominously on the hard floor. The fortress, once filled with life, was strangely desolate. He was going to see Idrithar, hoping to get away before the others woke and he had to explain himself. Yamier and Wekin would not understand, and they would try to come with him. He would say yes, and then a slew of difficulties would arise for those two were unthinkable troublemakers.
The Cron reached a door and tapped lightly before opening it and sliding inside. Idrithar was already in there and eyed the blond Cron, taking in the pack on his back and the boots on his feet. “Optimistic, you are up early,” Idrithar said, rising with a puzzled expression on his face.
“Idrithar.” The Cron called Optimistic put down his pack and took a seat across from the other Cron. “I am leaving. It is the turn of a new year, and we have heard no news. Others have gone, and I feel it is time now. I have to go.”
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 4