19
Eliesmore
They left the bubbling waterfall and went on until the sound of it was nothing more than a distant rumble. Meanwhile, the song the Singing Men sang became louder, and the words they sang became clearer. A hill dipped down before them, and at the bottom, they saw a cottage. It perched in the middle of what might have been a glade, although no trees surrounded it. Instead, small green bushes circled the hut and grew out in four lines like a compass pointing north, south, east and west. The grass was a blend of two colors: emerald green and white straw. In the middle of the odd landscaping, the circular home sat with wisps of smoke curling out of its chimney. It had an old, weather-beaten look about it, and the roof was made of thatched straw. The sound of singing came from within, and the four approached it slowly, searching for a door.
“Here we are, here we are
The home of Novor Tur-Woodberry.
The grass is fresh; the smell is sweet.
Welcome, welcome.
March to the door.
There is no door.
Find the initials,
Friend or foe.
Friends are welcome;
Come and dine.
Wipe your feet, and name your business,
Friend or foe.”
As they walked up to the hut, Ellagine gave a silvery laugh. “Eliesmore, find the mystery of the door. Don’t tell him Arldrine.” Optimistic looked just as amused, but he stayed quiet. “And Eliesmore,” Ellagine added. “Don’t be afraid to ask Novor Tur-Woodberry questions. There is much he knows.”
Eliesmore nodded, peering at the stone. All the walls were smooth, and like the song said, there was no door. As he studied the hut, Eliesmore noticed grooves on one side. Reaching out his ran his fingers over them, noting they made out the initials N.T. He pushed against them, but it was solid stone. All was silent, even the song ceased. He looked to Arldrine, who shook her head slightly. Her eyes danced with mischief while Optimistic nodded encouragingly at him. “Well, here goes.” He pursed his lips and called out, “Friends.”
An archway appeared, opening into the hut. Novor Tur-Woodberry beamed down at them. A golden light made his rich beard gleam, and his smile threatened to split open his face. “Come in, come in!” he boomed. “The feast is ready; the food is hot.”
He stood aside while Ellagine, Arldrine, Optimistic, and Eliesmore entered. Suddenly, their travel-stained clothes seemed clean again, and the exhaustion from their journey melted away. Novor Tur-Woodberry turned, and the archway disappeared. Instead of walls, brown tree bark rose on all sides of the room like a forest canopy, meeting the broad leaves and branches that hung down to stroke their heads. Moss and grass clung to the walls, slumbering in the presence of greatness. The sweet fragrance of fresh rain enveloped the air like a lover and a golden light beamed down upon them. Its hues were soft and inviting, calming their hearts and minds as it shone.
In the middle of the room, a heavy oak table was set for fifteen. Each of the Singing Men stood beside a seat, swaying and humming under their breaths. Each chair was carved with a beast of the wood or a treasure of old. One carving was of a lion on its hind legs, roaring. Another was of a winged horse taking flight. Yet another was a sword swinging into action, light blazing from its blade. Eliesmore thought he saw each carving come to life, moving for mere seconds. When he blinked, all was still again.
“Welcome to my home. Come in, sit down, and meet my Singing Men,” Novor Tur-Woodberry rumbled in his earthy tones. His voice reverberated across the room like distant thunder resounding before a storm. As they walked to the table, stealing curious glances about, only Ellagine seemed to be completely at ease. It was a moment before the intoxicating whiffs of food reminded Eliesmore how hungry he was for a good meal instead of dried meats and rare fruits. As soon as they were seated, Novor Tur-Woodberry commanded, “Eat!” They fell upon the food without a word.
The table was heaped high with fat sausages dripping with sauce, roasted ham with pineapple strewn across it, and trout from the stream stuffed with apples and bathed in lemon and garlic. Thick strips of bacon with a sweet and crunchy topping decorated each place while beside everyone sat a glass of wine. When Eliesmore sipped the drink, he found it fresh and light, as crisp as an apple yet sending sweetness tingling through his body. A basket of fruit appeared at his right side, heaped with apples, oranges, grapes, and cherries. Pies whizzed past him, thick with vegetables; their flaky crusts were unable to hide the juicy bites hidden inside. There were sweet loaves of bread and nutty slices of bread, corn dripping in milk, and dishes Eliesmore could not name, even if he tried. As he ate, he felt himself growing and flourishing. Even before he wished for more, it appeared on his plate, and his wine glass stayed full, brimming with the sweet elixir.
Finally, he grew still, leaning back in his chair and sipping his wine, while music played on a harp, humming in the background. Eliesmore sighed. This is what adventure should be like: a narrow escape from the dangers beyond the forest and a satisfying meal at the end of the day. He never knew food could taste so good nor fill him with such abundance. It seemed his chair grew deeper, and there were arms on it now. He sank down into it. He was full, at peace, happy, and safe. It seemed to him time was nothing. He closed his eyes as a light surrounded him.
When he woke next, he was still in his chair. The table was gone, and he sat in front of a roaring fire. Optimistic sat to his left, twirling the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, a look of utter satisfaction lay on his face like an enchantment. Arldrine sat to his right; her dark lids were half shut as she watched the rise and fall of the flames. Ellagine sat beyond Optimistic; her head bent forward. Her shoulder shook. When she lifted her face to brush at it, Eliesmore saw anguish and realized she was crying. His heart dropped. He wanted to rise and go comfort her, but the soft cushions of his chair held him fast, making him feel like he never wanted to move again. Besides, how could she be crying at the house of Novor Tur-Woodberry? They were safe. Nothing could harm them. What was wrong with her? He watched her green light shimmer, folding around her like a blanket. Suddenly he felt like an intruder thrusting himself into an intimate moment, and he turned his eyes away.
A magnificent chair sat in front of the fire, facing the four. A moment later Novor Tur-Woodberry appeared, holding a curved pipe. “Oh ho,” his deep voice rumbled as he sat. “So, you have awakened, and I have news for you.”
He stretched out his mighty legs, looking very much like an oak tree. Reaching into the fire, he lifted a twig, alight with flame, and lit his pipe. Tossing the twig back into the fire, he puffed on his pipe. The room became smaller as the walls came nearer, leaning in to hear what might be said around the fire. The floor was carpeted with green moss, cushioning their feet, while the flames crackled and leaped, licking up the wood around them.
After a while, Eliesmore struggled upward in his chair, still hearing music from harps and the friendly flames of the fire. “Novor Tur-Woodberry,” he started, “if I may ask, who exactly are you and where did you come from?”
Novor Tur-Woodberry continued to puff, creating a cloud of smoke before blowing it away. Minutes passed, and just as Eliesmore was beginning to feel embarrassed for breaking the silence, Novor Tur-Woodberry spoke. “Novor Tur-Woodberry they call me, and here I was sent to rule this land. Long ago, before song begun and tales were spoken, this world was created, and creatures of many kinds began to thrive. As the years passed, Changers rose up, creating all sorts of mischief and misdeeds. I was sent to take charge of this land and balance the powers of good and evil. This land I keep alive and growing with the power that is given me. I take care of the wild plants, letting the live ones remain while the dead are taken away. Many animals reside here because I keep evil off of my lands. This is a safe haven for White Steeds, and Black Steeds rarely come near. Yet if they do, I hurry them off my property so not to harm others. I am a Dunithair, and my ten Singing Men are Fúlishités. We know much of the wisdom and we
alth of this world so ask me. I know many tales and songs of old. But first, tell me young White Steeds how you came to be hereabouts. The One and his companions should be far from here.”
Eliesmore felt a tightness in his chest at the reference to the words of prophecy. He glanced from Optimistic to Arldrine in discomfort. They only nodded, encouraging him to speak. “You are correct.” Eliesmore swallowed hard. “We are White Steeds, and I do carry the Jeweled Sword. Our mission is to dissolve the Green Stone, and we are on our way to the fortress to take others with us. Only, since the Rakhai have arisen, our journey has been consumed with trying to escape their clutches.”
“This I know.” Novor Tur-Woodberry took his pipe out of his mouth, and his expression turned grave. “There is more.”
“Tell me,” Ellagine interrupted, her face distraught. “Tell me what is happening in Shimla; I can feel it.”
“This is what I must say.” Novor Tur-Woodberry sat up and leaned forward. His intense gaze searched the faces of his guests. “The barrier of protection that has lain over this land has fallen, allowing the Rakhai to penetrate it and strike hard. A dark rampage was let loose, enabling them to knock the defenses of the White Steeds almost out of existence. They are seeking the One and the Keeper of the Green Stone. They are bent on destruction. Only it seems the One is stronger than they initially thought, and they had to turn away. Black Steeds were sent out, raiding the forest in Shimla and killing many. Some escaped, and, even as we speak, many are fleeing towards the Pillars of Creation. The west, I fear, has gone black. Here in the Eastern Hill Countries, there are still as many as hundred White Steeds. The fortress is the only safe haven left.”
“As many as a hundred White Steeds?” Arldrine gasped, rising halfway out of her chair. “This cannot be true!”
Eliesmore discerned the impact of that statement as he thought of the world. Surely there were thousands of people living in the South World. How could so few be White Steeds?
A profound silence swept over the room as the gravity of their situation sunk in. The music was gone, and even the fire silenced its voice. Eliesmore blinked and saw spots of darkness covering his vision, blocking out everything else. Ellagine’s face was a mask of grief, Arldrine sank into her chair in horror, and even Optimistic put down his head, hiding his stricken expression. A whirlwind of thoughts tore through Eliesmore’s mind. They had failed before they started; the Black Steeds had almost achieved their goal. They could not win with only a hundred White Steeds on their side. Where was the army? Where were those in hiding? There was no point in going on to the fortress or dissolving the Green Stone. There was no point in gathering an army, which would be beaten before they could march out to fight. The darkness of the Black Steeds had come much further than he had ever imagined. The beast would rise up out of Rededak, and it would not matter if one were a Black Steed or White Steed, the world was doomed. The light had gone out; the end was near.
“It can’t be,” Eliesmore whispered. No one heard. It was as if he was in a dream. The Rakhai were coming; they would be ripped to shreds. The fear and torment were more than he could bear. He stood up, shaking as a line of “Song” came to him: “They will come out and rejoice, for evil had been receded…” And then he was back in the home of Novor Tur-Woodberry, sitting with his stricken companions in silence. Even Novor Tur-Woodberry’s face was grave.
Suddenly light illuminated the room, casting golden light into every dark shadow. Daelidrains circled the air above them. “Peace,” they whispered, touching every heart and wiping every tear away. “When the night seems darkest, the light shines the brightest. Do not give up before you have begun to fight, move forward, take up the mission, complete it, and never give up. The King and Queen of the Land are on your side.” With these last words, they disappeared as quickly as they had come, and there was silence yet again.
Eliesmore sank into his chair; his eyes were wet. The fire shuddered as he took a deep breath and let it out again. The warm crackling began again, and music played far away. A deep peace and then a certain sense of determination filled the air.
“Ah, little White Steeds.” Novor Tur-Woodberry’s booming voice was gentle like the wind in the reeds. “You have quite a journey ahead of you. Your goal is to be swift. You must protect the treasures you carry as you travel through this world. It may seem dark now, but even as we speak, a great many creatures from the Western World have sensed the plight of the South World. They are sending help, and our numbers will increase. While we wait, we must continue onward. I will warn the White Steeds living on my land. You four must reach the fortress without meeting the Rakhai.”
“Should we go now?” Arldrine made as if to stand.
“No.” Novor Tur-Woodberry’s grave face turned into a wreath of smiles as he chuckled. Sitting back in his chair, he folded his large hands, and his eyes began to sparkle. “No, one night will not be your undoing. Besides, it is too dangerous to go now. Ask, and you shall know. Clear away the sorrow because now is the time for some entertainment.”
The room had trees again. It was wider now, and the Singing Men came in. They sat around the room as great lords in a hall of council. Novor Tur-Woodberry took his pipe out of his mouth and began to sing. His singing men hummed the bass notes as Novor Tur-Woodberry sang of the quest and the lengthy journey through hill, rock, mountain, and molehill. When he finished, Novor Tur-Woodberry put his pipe back into his mouth. He puffed away for a few minutes as the song was echoed by his Singing Men. “That is your journey. That is your song and then some.” He nodded.
Eliesmore wondered what he meant, but he did not ask. Instead, he listened as Ellagine, now looking herself again, spoke up. “Tell me of the west.”
“The west.” Novor Tur-Woodberry's low voice rumbled comfortingly. “It is a terrible land; its beauty was destroyed when the Black Steeds took over. Alas, I do not know of any White Steeds there. Werivment is the place ‘where the rivers meet,’ and it is a haven for White Steeds. Black Steeds do not dare to enter that place, and yet White Steeds will not cross the land to go there. The waters travel swiftly out to Oceantic because the Under Water World people will not stay there either. Close to there are the Constel Heights where the Green Stone is to be dissolved. The Black Steeds keep a vigil guard, and one of the Dark Three lives there as well to keep ‘Song’ from coming true. The Cascade Mountain Range is the barrier between. You must be careful upon crossing. See that you do not trust anyone and keep the Green Stone out of sight because it will only bring more danger and trouble to you. One of the Dark Three rules in Silverslidersidell, which also holds the entrance to the Holesmoles and goes up to the foot of the outer Cascade Mountain Range. The Holesmoles is a forbidden place. There is a door above ground to enter, that looks like a thick tree. It is a whole dark underground world with many paths and few ways out. The moles and voles have long since been vanquished by tall fighting creatures that have always lived underground. You should not go near the Holesmoles if you value your life. As you know, your journey is of great peril, and you must be wise; one wrong doing may cost your lives.”
Optimistic, who had not said a word since they had entered the house of Novor Tur-Woodberry, sat up. “At least it is possible.”
“Possible?” Novor Tur-Woodberry burst into laughter at the absurd thought, rubbing his belly and shaking his head. “On the contrary, it is impossible. All the same, you go on.”
It grew quiet again. Novor Tur-Woodberry went back to smoking his pipe. The Singing Men pulled out theirs and took turns inhaling as Eliesmore and his companions absorbed what they had been told. The Singing Men lifted their voices, singing the legend of the Green Stone. When they finished the song, Novor Tur-Woodberry stood. “You look tired,” he told his guests, “come with me and rest.”
The Singing Men continued to hum as Novor Tur-Woodberry flung open two doors. Beyond the doors were two beds of twigs and leaves with blankets of moss and grass. “Come along. Come and sleep. Quite comfortable you will b
e.” Novor Tur-Woodberry ushered Arldrine and Ellagine into one chamber and Optimistic and Eliesmore into the other. “Sleep peacefully,” he called, “dream consistently.”
Eliesmore dropped upon his bed. He was sure he would be awake for a moment, turning over the strange events of the evening in his head. A second later he was fast asleep while music echoed through the golden house of Novor Tur-Woodberry.
20
Eliesmore
Eliesmore dreamed he was sailing on a ship shaped like a swan; its sails were white and the curves of its bow were golden. The waters he sailed on were unlike any other he’d ever seen. They came alive and parted for the ship. Waves lifted like fingers to carry him to his final resting place. Rain drifted in rainbow colors, caressing his face like soft, white feathers. They covered the ship and the water he was sailing in until petals danced everywhere he looked. Ahead he saw a shimmering curtain, shining with a light so magnificent he could barely look at it. Creatures flew around it, singing an unearthly song that sent shivers down his spine. As Eliesmore watched, the curtains seemed to be the rain itself, misted in rainbow. He leaned forward in anticipation as tears of joy streamed down his cheeks. The curtain parted. Before he could see what lay beyond, the dream faded.
At dawn, Eliesmore woke refreshed; he heard the ten little men singing in the distance, their song praising the attributes of Novor Tur-Woodberry. He sat up and glanced over at Optimistic, who was holding the Green Stone in the palm of his hand, a strange expression on his face. “What is the matter?” Eliesmore asked.
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 10