“Wait, there’s more than one?” Eliesmore exclaimed in fright. He was beginning to feel angry with Ellagine.
Ellagine held up three fingers. “There are three, here, in the South World. Their assumed goal is to rid the Four Worlds of mortals so they can rule them.”
“Why?” Eliesmore found himself standing with his fists clenched. “What have we ever done to deserve this?”
Ellagine folded her hands in her lap in resignation. “Eliesmore, it’s not who deserves what. The Changers found death eludes them. They have walked this world for hundreds of years, collecting knowledge and power. There is something else they need, something else is hidden in Rededak.”
Eliesmore could feel the bile rising in his throat. “What is Rededak?” he whispered.
“Rededak is the name for a place beyond the underworld, a prison of a sort. It is said the Creator, the King of the Land, trapped the mischief his assistant, the Queen of the Land, created there.”
“Is it something worse than the Changers?”
“Perhaps,” Ellagine brushed his question away. “But the Changers have discovered how to create Monrages. The rise of Magdela the Monrage was only the beginning of the Changers achieving their goal because if they gain enough power, they can access Rededak and release the beast.”
Eliesmore bit his lip as he sat back down, holding up a finger. “What do you mean by gain enough power? You mean convert enough people to become Black Steeds?”
Ellagine shook her head. “No, I should have been clear. The Changers have been roaming this world for hundreds of years, collecting knowledge and power. Power can be passed from one to another. Remember in tales of old how the Ruler lived among the Green People until he was banished? It’s because he was there to collect power.”
“Collect power?” Eliesmore plucked up grass and tossed it in the air. “Just as easily as I would pick food from a garden?”
A hint of amusement touched Ellagine’s stoic face. “No.” She held out her hands. “There is a sacred ritual known to my people, the Iaen, called the Klieng. We use it to take power from an immortal when they have abused it. The Changers likely use the same kind of ritual, which is why they are searching for and capturing powerful mortals and immortals alike. They are keen to the scent of power. I believe they will send more like Magdela the Monrage to search out and destroy the most powerful White Steeds. This is why the prophecy ‘Song’ must be fulfilled. It seems, even in our darkest hour, the King of the Land still offers us a way out. The time is overripe for the White Steeds to rise up, take back the South World, and demolish, once and for all, the dark powers of the Changers and the Black Steeds.”
Eliesmore paused as her words blurred together. He was frightened and angry. She had brought him to a place where he experienced the best nights of his life and ruined those fond memories with her dark stories. He could sense resentment building. Yet one word she had spoken resonated with him. He had heard it before in a sort of déjà vu or perhaps in a past life. A hidden memory tugged at him. “What is ‘Song’?”
“You haven’t heard ‘Song’,” Ellagine said, more as a statement than a question.
“No. I see there is a lot my mother did not tell me. She was trying to protect me, I assume from the White Steeds and Black Steeds. We even moved when I was young because I went to see the Jaded Sea.” He was rambling. Why was he rambling? “I had to persuade her to let me come today…” he trailed off as Ellagine put a finger to her lips.
As she gazed into his eyes, Eliesmore realized he had seen them before in the crystallized stream. Had she spoken of his future? She spoke in a sing-song voice, and all of the wood was silent.
“When the terrorizer of the Black Steeds and White Steeds,
Magdela the Monrage, has gone and been killed,
When everyone has gone and hidden in the land down South,
Up there will rise, Finder of the Jeweled Sword,
Conqueror of Evil.
He will come when he is young.
He will wield the Jeweled Sword.
He will dissolve the Green Stone.
Where he goes, the people will no longer live in hiding.
They will come out and rejoice.
For evil has receded, but not completely destroyed until the end of Time.”
- “Song” - as told by Paleidir Lady of the Green People.
Daughter of King Islider, King of the Green People.
Wife of Legone the Swift.
“Eliesmore,” she spoke earnestly, leaning towards him as her last words dropped like stones. “You are the One.”
“Me?” Eliesmore exclaimed, leaping up. It was the last thing he ever expected her to say, and it quite took his breath away as he began to tremble. The events of the day were turning out to be too much for him.
“Eliesmore,” Ellagine repeated his name for the fifth time. “Please, sit. I have not finished with what I have to tell you.”
Shaking in shock, Eliesmore resumed his position and tried to listen to Ellagine while thoughts whirled through his head.
“Every victory and every step we take in pushing back the Black Steeds and defeating their evil will transfer power from the Black Steeds to the White Steeds. One day the balance will be restored, and the White Steeds will hold enough power to overthrow the Black Steeds. However, there is need of One now because if we do not push back the Black Steeds, there will be no White Steeds left and the Changers will win. This is why you are here. All living creatures are either Black Steeds or White Steeds. You must trust no one lest you fall into traps. Black Steeds are everywhere, even within the borders of Shimla. Our shield of protection is failing, even as we speak. The Iaen are no longer strong enough to keep them out. The Black Steeds have two fortresses here in the Eastern Hill Country. One is in Daygone, and the other is in the Torsilo Quarts. Our fortress, the fortress of the White Steeds, is on the far side of Sanga San, although our numbers have greatly diminished. This is just another example of how powerful the Black Steeds have become.”
Ellagine paused for a moment, considering. Eliesmore barely paid attention. He wanted a future with excitement and adventure, but he did not want to go out and fight the Black Steeds. The very idea of the Changers with their army of Black Steeds and Monrages made him shudder. How was he supposed to be the One and lead a great revolt against undying Changers? Had his mother known about this his entire life? Was that why she acted the way she did? He recalled her parting words and with a jolt realized she had known he was the One. She was trying to protect him from the burden “Song” placed on his shoulders. Even so, at the age of five, he had discovered the Jeweled Sword.
“What is the Green Stone?” Eliesmore blurted out, not following Ellagine’s tale any longer.
“Optimistic has it,” she replied absently.
Eliesmore was just as confused by her answer. She seemed lost in deliberation. He had been oblivious to being the One, yet events fell into place. Maybe the Iaens had known all along and for that reason welcomed him in their midst. Eliesmore did not want to be the One. It was true: he wished for peace in the world, except he wanted to live his own life. He wanted to explore good and evil for himself and see if Ellagine was telling him the truth and not only trying to persuade him with horror stories. He did not want to be a leader. Besides, he was too young and inexperienced. The words of “Song” came drifting back into his head: “he will come when he is young.” Eliesmore sighed and looked up to tell Ellagine, who had crossed the stream and now knelt by his side. “Look into the water.” She waved her hand, palm down, over the water.
A map of the South World appeared in the crystal stream. Eliesmore saw Shimla, where they were, and the Land of Lock, Locherenixzes. He looked, and he saw the Torsilo Quarts and Daygone.
Ellagine pointed. “See Truemonix.” It lay to the west of them, close to the Jaded Sea.
Eliesmore pulled away; he would not get forced into this. “I don’t want to be the One,” he announced.
T
he map disappeared, but Ellagine hardly looked surprised. “Nobody wants to be the One. Eliesmore, consider the Heroes of Old. Do you think the Five Warriors wanted to go to the Great Water Hole? Do you think Pharengon of the Jeweled Sword and his Companions wanted to go to the North Forests and meet the great dranagin? No, it was their duty, and it was what they did. This is what you are going to do.”
Eliesmore stood up, and Ellagine quickly rose beside him, her height making him feel small. He was not about to be bullied into doing something he did not want to do, and he felt like making himself clear. He started walking backward, making his voice stern. “I not only don’t want to do this. I will not!”
Eliesmore spun around and ran. He felt Ellagine come up behind him and roughly snatch something. He did not stop. He quickened his pace without looking back.
11
Eliesmore
Eliesmore fled through the forests of Shimla as if the creatures of the wood were on his heels. He knew he'd reacted badly, making enemies out of the Iaen, but this was his life. He was entitled to adventure. He deserved to live life the way he wanted, not according to dark stories of immortals and power struggles. The tales of Heroes of Old were entertaining to hear. However, he did not envy their lives or desire their fate.
It was a while before he was out of breath and slowed down to a walk. The forest was hushed in emerald waves of silence. The call of the Iaen was gone. Nothing was chasing him. With a sigh of relief, Eliesmore wandered into regions of Shimla he’d never seen, although the forest seemed to open a path before him. As he traveled, Eliesmore recognized the gravity of what he had done and began to consider what he should do. Going back home was out of the question because his mother might never let him leave again. He was departing Shimla, heading in the direction of three countries: Truemonix, Torsilo Quarts, and Daygone. He certainly did not want to end up in Daygone, the evil place of the Black Steeds. He might never get away if he went there. Ellagine was about to tell him something about Truemonix; she might be going there herself. It would not do for him to run into her there. All that was left was the Torsilo Quarts, although he would be wise to stay away from the fortress. There were other cities on the map, but Eliesmore did not know what direction they lay in. After making up his mind, he continued his stubborn march through the forest.
Presently, visions of food consumed his thoughts, and his stomach rumbled. He knew how to forage for food in the wild, but it was only March, too early for new growth. Besides, if there had been food, Eliesmore would not have known whether or not to eat it. There was so much going on between the White Steeds and Black Steeds; there might be poison in the plants. After a while, the light of day faded from the woods, and a thick darkness curled its way through the trees. This time, there were no friendly lights to guide his way. Tired from his journey and hungry from lack of food, Eliesmore huddled beneath a tree, using the undergrowth to hide his presence. He curled up and went to sleep. He was sure he would find the fulfillment he sought when he woke.
In the morning, Eliesmore woke up disoriented. His back hurt from sleeping on the ground, and there was a crick in his neck. He sat up reluctantly as the tall trees rose, frowning, above him and the homely smell of the woods surrounded him. A brisk wind drifted past, and his stomach growled. He yawned and stretched. His tongue felt thick in his mouth from thirst. He stood, listening hard for the sound of water. The lack of nourishment made him grumpy. He had forgotten the necessities required for being on his own. He had no plans and no purpose. Being out on his own was not as rewarding as he’d anticipated. He thought of going home, but he was not one to give up. Besides, it seemed as if the trees had closed the path to him; there was no way back, only forward.
By midmorning, Eliesmore came upon a creek. Its mossy bed rose high as it flowed over smooth, gray stones. In one fluid motion, Eliesmore knelt, cupping his hands and lapping up the cool, refreshing water. In his haste, water dripped down his chin and splashed across the front of his tunic. It was a few minutes before he paused to take in his surroundings; as he did, a splash made him jump. His eyes narrowed, and he backed away from the stream, unnerved by the silence of the forest. He was used to it being full of life and happiness; now a mere sound made him cautious. The splash came again, and he saw a white mink in the stream, leaping as it caught a fish and swam on by. Startled by its color, Eliesmore looked down at his clothes, remembering what the Iaen had told him of the White Steeds and Black Steeds. His clothes seemed drab and gray in the light of the forest, and Eliesmore felt his pulse quicken. He was sure the day before they had been lighter. He wanted to blame it on his night in the forest, yet his mind was already starting a war within him.
If he were not a White Steed, would he automatically become a Black Steed? He wished to remain neutral, but it did not seem to be an option. As a Black Steed, he would be on the side of the Changers, helping them accomplish their goals, which he was confused about. Ellagine had said something about the balance of powers and Rededak. Eliesmore shuddered to think of what was hiding there. If he were not a Black Steed, then he would have to be a White Steed, which meant being the One and saving the world from the cruel hands of the Black Steeds. Being the One terrified him, each time he thought of the prophecy, he felt a sinking pit of horror in his belly. Besides having the Jeweled Sword and dissolving the Green Stone, he was not sure what was involved. As he thought, he supposed he could ask the Iaen to help him and other White Steeds, if there were other White Steeds.
The day slipped by as slowly as water dripping into a bucket, drop by drop. As the evening darkened into night, Eliesmore found himself exhausted and slipped into an uneven sleep due to dehydration and lack of nourishment. His dreams were troubled and consumed with the White Steeds and Black Steeds. He could be a White Steed living in hiding, which meant returning home to his mother. He couldn’t be neutral. He did not want to be a Black Steed. He did not want to be a White Steed.
In the morning Eliesmore woke in anger. His body ached from his flight, and his head pounded with a headache. Despite the pain, Eliesmore stumbled up and went on through the forest. Angry thoughts chased each other, making him wish there had never been a struggle between the Black and White Steeds in the first place. He wished he, of all people, had not been picked to be the One. He wished he had not been born in the South World and in this time of dire need. Finally, just as he saw the edge of the forest and found himself coming out into open land, he wished he had never been born.
As Eliesmore gained the edge of Shimla, he almost stumbled over two badgers. As his vision cleared, he glared as the beasts regarded him with cold eyes. They were black with white stripes, and because of their drastic colors, Eliesmore could not tell whether they were Black Steeds or White Steeds. “I’m sorry,” Eliesmore began as the badgers measured him, calculating. “Do you have any food?”
“Yes,” said one. "What will you give us in exchange?”
“I do not have anything to trade,” Eliesmore said, unaccustomed to the ways of a world where nothing is free.
“You could come with us.” A badger held out a clawed paw.
“Where are you going?” Eliesmore asked.
“Does it matter?” the badger replied.
Eliesmore wanted to say it mattered very much, but the stance the badgers took seemed hostile. He gave a quick nod, hoping for food.
The second badger held out a pouch. “This should be filling.”
Eliesmore gulped down the liquid, forgetting to be cautious of the strange animals. As soon as he finished, he felt lightheaded and the world blurred before his eyes. He sank to the ground as strength left his body. “What was that?” he demanded. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was the two badgers advancing on him.
12
Optimistic
Optimistic sat in the glade with his back against a tree. Shimla was nothing like he had imagined. Ever since he’d left the fortress, he had traveled through a dying world. He was surprised at the dejected way the trees h
eld down their stripped branches and the grass lay flat and yellow beneath his feet. The lands were scarce and bare as if even the plants were too fearful to grow. Optimistic shivered in the chill air, waiting until he saw a glimpse of green. Ellagine entered the glade; her face was a mask of twisted fury as she lay a sword in the grass beside Optimistic. “He ran!” She began as she sat down with him. “I told him the story of our world from the beginning of time. I tried to make him understand our need for him. But he ran. Optimistic, he is the One, and he doesn’t even believe in our cause. I don’t know what to do.” She sighed, staring into empty space for answers.
“Ellagine.” Optimistic leaned forward, reaching out a hand just shy of touching her. “If he is the One, he will return. It is not your fault he ran.”
Ellagine turned to face Optimistic. “It’s not his return I’m worried about,” she confirmed. “I know he will come back. I am worried about how alive he will be when he does. If the Black Steeds get him first, you know what will happen. And if they find out he is the One…” She trailed off. “I had to take this.” She put the sword in Optimistic’s hands.
Understanding and wonder dawned on Optimistic’s face as he held up the sword. The jewels still gleamed in what little light there was, and the two stared at it in awe.
“Where did he get this from?” Optimistic breathed. “I know he is supposed to have it, but the last we heard was that King Pharengon of the Eastern World had it, and he still lives.”
Ellagine shook her head. “I do not know; he lived a well-protected life.”
Optimistic put the sword down. “That settles it. He knows almost nothing of the world, and the Black Steeds will hunt him down. I am going after him.”
“You will know him; he is the only Cron with black hair. His name is Eliesmore.”
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 6