The hood of her dark cloak was thrust back, allowing her transparent black hair to hang long and loose. In one motion, the Monrage pulled out her sword. Black horses moved on it, racing in place with their eyes red. Chills ran up and down Eliesmore’s spine, and he opened his mouth to scream or shout for help, yet nothing came out. An invisible evil reached out its hands for him, and as he looked into the dark eyes of the Monrage, he knew she was involved in something sinister.
“Eliesmore!” the scream ripped from Ellagine's throat.
Eliesmore came to life and rolled over as the Monrage sank her sword into the ground instead of flesh. Leaping to his feet, Eliesmore yanked his sword out of his sheath, throwing himself off balance with his quick movements. Regret flashed through his mind as he realized he’d never fought before, let alone against a Monrage.
The Monrage curled her fingers around the hilt of her sword and drew it from the ground like one pulling an arrow from a bleeding wound. Her eyes met Eliesmore’s and then roamed over his body, searching for his weaknesses. Clouds of darkness gathered on the edge of Eliesmore’s vision as the Monrage flexed her bare hands. If her fingers folded around his neck, she would crush his windpipe in one motion while her cold eyes stared into his soul, savoring each second of pain she gave him.
The moment her sword was free, the Monrage spun, twirling the sword through the air and driving its glinting end toward Eliesmore’s heart. With surprising quickness, Eliesmore blocked her blow. Without hesitation, she swung the flat end of her sword toward his head, intending to cleave it off in one sweep. Eliesmore saw the movement and thrust his sword in the way, throwing his weight behind it. The Monrage snarled, and one red eye winked at Eliesmore, even as her lips curled upward in a hideous sneer. Quickly they maneuvered—up and down, this side and that side, always in circles—until Eliesmore began to have the feeling that maybe he could not fight. Perhaps she was toying with him.
In his peripheral vision, he could see his three friends moving in an awkward dance as they warded off the other Monrages who stepped out of the woods. Optimistic was shooting arrows, but they had no effect. The Monrages advanced, their swords in one hand while the other warded off arrows. Arldrine had her bow and arrow ready. When a Monrage got too close, she ruthlessly drew her dagger. Ellagine shimmered with pale green light, an arch covering her like a shield. Lifting her hands, she called: “Ilidifurthien, reihturfidli!” A sword appeared, shimmering pale green as it hovered above her waiting hands. Ellagine snatched it from the air and advanced on the Monrages, brandishing a green fire.
Eliesmore noticed the Monrage he fought was becoming more aggressive. Her sword seemed to be in three places at once, and the strength at which she swung her lethal weapon jarred his bones. Sweat dripped down his face, dripping into his eyes and soaking his shirt. He was unsure how much longer he could hold the Monrage at bay when he heard a pounding in the wood. Out of the dark trees, seven Monrages materialized. They swung off their mounts with barely a sound, flipping through the air like it was water. Their black and white faces glowed in glee as they surrounded the four, swords strapped to their sides and black-tipped arrows on their backs. Long bows were tied to their backs, freeing their hands for the next part in their deadly game.
The Monrage fighting Eliesmore stepped away from him, retreating toward her companions and sheathing her sword as she went. Eliesmore paused in confusion, clutching his sword as his chest heaved. He wiped his mouth as he turned in a panic. He watched the Monrages back away, circling him like a lion that flirted with its prey before devouring it. They lifted curved bows off their backs, drew black-tipped arrows, and took aim. When they loosed them, instead of arrows, black light streamed toward Eliesmore.
It twisted, it twirled, and it multiplied. Eliesmore saw the Rakhai were using their hands, and light flowed through their fingers, swirling onwards. He could hear their victorious laughter over the fear that threatened to choke him.
“No!” He swung his sword hard; he couldn’t let the black lights touch him. Ten were demolished by his sword. He swung the other way, knowing the black light held power that would make him bend to the will of the Rakhai. Ten more were destroyed. Thirty of the black lights slammed into his body. He flew through the air. At some point, he lost the grip on his sword, and he landed with such an impact that his breath left his body. In a fog, he heard a shriek from the Rakhai as they received black-light-swords. Eliesmore struggled in vain on the ground as a paralyzing pain gripped his body. When he tried to lift his head and roll over to his side, his body screamed in agony as if he had been beaten all over. The last thing he saw, before he was plunged into darkness, was a Monrage driving her black-light-sword into him.
Eliesmore screamed as he passed into the shadow land, yet even then he was aware of the Rakhai. Heat seared his flesh while the ice-cold sword drove into his body, ripping and tearing. Teeth chattering, he shook with chills as his torture began. Dimly he heard Ellagine shouting, “Wistfes seftisws, mocteo etomoc” as she began to use her powers to drive the Rakhai away. The world withered as the pain in his side took over, and the Monrage started goading him.
“You are not the One!”
Ellagine drove two Monrages away; they mounted their horses and galloped off in a northwest direction.
The Monrage snarled at Eliesmore. “You are not the One.” He knew she was holding his Jeweled Sword, even though he could not see it. “You do not have your sword, and we have more power than any of you. You are weak and afraid; we are strong. Nothing stands in our way. We will kill all the White Steeds.”
Four Monrages galloped off, one to the northwest and three to the northeast.
Eliesmore gasped for breath and found himself panting, his heart threatening to give up. The air was too thick for him to breathe. If only he could escape from the torturous sword.
“Admit it.” The Monrage’s voice twisted through him like rope, binding and choking. “You will not die just yet I shall turn you into a Monrage, and you can see for yourself…”
“Stop,” Eliesmore moaned, striving to drive away the sound of her voice even though it rumbled through him, dragging life away. The Monrage, who was clearly enjoying herself, pushed her sword down deeper into Eliesmore until she reached bone. Eliesmore’s green eyes grew wide and then rolled white. He gave a gasp, swimming in a sea of blackness beyond the extent of the Monrage’s power, and then he was gone.
22
Ellagine
Ellagine spun in a green fury, her eyes darting to where Eliesmore lay. The wicked Monrage crouched over him, turning her black-light-sword in his shredded body. Ellagine saw him exhale, and the life drifted from him. She watched the wisps of his soul float upward, and a tidal wave of wrath swept over her. She wanted to kill the Monrages; nay, she personally wanted to hunt them down and rip them to pieces with her bare hands. She felt her lovely face twist into pure hatred, deeper than any emotion she’d ever know. Lifting up her voice, she roared, and her aura of green shimmered twice as bright. With absolute hatred, she turned on the five remaining Monrages.
One pulled her sword, stained dark red, out of Eliesmore’s body, allowing his crimson blood to flow in rivers into the ground. Ellagine leaped on top of the Monrage, kicking the Jeweled Sword out of her hand. The Monrage grew a crown on her head and sent out black shafts of light. Ellagine raised her sword of green fire, opened her fist, and released a blow of power. The Monrage stumbled backward, lifting her fingers to counter the blow. In her fury, Ellagine did not feel herself weakening. They were both using different extremes of power, yet suddenly they both used the same measure, and it was as if hot and cold had clashed. The ground began to shake, and a black and white whirlwind arose, two strong forces battling.
At that moment, a profound change took place in the South World, and everyone in all the Four Worlds was frozen in awe. The only person who did move was Ellagine; she snatched up Eliesmore and sank to her knees, feeling her power drip from her body. The Monrages turned to flee, a
nd as they did, their horses fell dead before them. They ran on with their swords out, killing any that happened to be in their path. The White Steeds continued in their flight; the Iaens that escaped slaughter were able to reach the shore and struck out for the beyond, searching for the Pillars of Creation. While they went, eleven white horses, sent by the Daelidrains, entered the South World.
When the Rakhai disappeared, a deep sadness swept through the land. Many were slain in their wake because the Black Steeds were not fair in any of their ways. If the One could not live and go on to dissolve the Green Stone, then no one could, and not just the South World, but all the Four Worlds would perish. Then it would be too late to fight back, and life would come to a dreadful halt. The Changers would rule the worlds, and there would be a tortured end for the people groups and mortals. It was Ellagine who understood those things, and hot tears poured down her face as she held Eliesmore, even as he grew cold in her arms. Optimistic came forward and took him from her while Arldrine reached out to steady her. A heavy sadness descended on them as they sat, bereft, in the wood.
The Iaens left the South World. The land of Novor Tur-Woodberry and his Singing Men grew quiet. Darkness and hopelessness were at its peak for there were less than fifty White Steeds alive in the whole South World. At that crucial moment, there was only one voice and one heart that held on to the words and believed them to be true. The voice sang out, slowly, gently, and clearly. A song of hope twisted through the air, dissipating the evil fumes that surrounded them. It was the song Novor Tur-Woodberry had given them, and Optimistic sang the words like a cure as they lay in the forest, where life flowed into the unknown.
Ellagine’s blue eyes met Optimistic’s, even as she leaned against Arldrine and felt her strength fade away. “You still find hope, even in the blackest moment.”
Optimistic said nothing at all as he continued to hum. Ellagine lifted her head from Arldrine’s shoulder and saw a flash of gold. She gasped and, gathering what was left of her strength, stood. Arldrine held on to her as she struggled, recognizing she’d spent too much of her power. It would take some time to recoup; Ellagine had to be careful. She opened her mouth, and a name drifted out: “Glashar.”
The golden light paused and moved closer until a Falidrain appeared. Her eyes were round with terror; her pale face was streaked with a combination of blood, tears, and dirt. “Ellagine,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she crept toward the wounded company. “You must run. They have come to destroy us.”
Ellagine pointed at Eliesmore. “Please. Please save him. He is the One.”
Glashar’s face darkened into an unreadable mask as she stared down at the blended male. Her gaze roved over him and returned to Ellagine’s. “He is dead.”
“You have the power. Please. I would not ask this if I could. Save him. He is our hope. He is the One.” Ellagine fell to her knees, hands clasped before her. “Glashar, think of this world. Think of all you have lost and all you could gain. Please.”
Glashar paused, an inner turmoil within her as she observed what had happened there. “Ellagine. My powers fade.”
“Save him,” Ellagine beseeched her. “Save him. You owe me that. At least.”
Glashar remained still for long moments. At last, she took a breath, clenched her fists, and opened them. A golden fire appeared on her fingertips, and she walked toward Eliesmore.
23
Eliesmore
Eliesmore woke. His throat was dry, and his eyes were sticky. He coughed and swallowed, stretching his fingers. He was astonished to find himself alive. He felt his face; it was still there. His side was bandaged and throbbed when he touched it. He sat up, assuming he was still in the boundary line forest, yet it seemed he was alone. He stood, allowing the balance to return to his body. His fingers closed over the hilt of his Jeweled Sword, which had been returned to his sheath. As he clenched it, he felt a stubbornness rise within. He was the One, and he would do as “Song” said, even with the risks it entailed and the evil chasing after him. He wondered how he had escaped with his life and where his friends were. He stumbled in circles, feeling his strength return. As he did, he saw he was not quite as alone as he’d thought.
A female stood before him, so slender it seemed a mere breath of wind could blow her away. She was only about four feet tall with fair skin and long, light golden hair. “I am Glashar the Falidrain.” Her words were like waters tumbling down a waterfall.
She wore a white shirt and green tunic as he did, yet she wore a flowing skirt. A quiver of white-tipped arrows and a small bow lay across her back. A tiny bag was tied about her waist.
Eliesmore stared at her.
She motioned for him to sit, and she sat across from him. “I was escaping from the massacres the Rakhai initiated when they went through Shimla, raiding and killing many of my kind, the Idrains.” She began as if she could read the questions in his mind that lay unasked on his tongue.
“I simply thought of escaping and going to the Beyond with the others. Yet, a thought held me back.” She paused for a minute, her eyes misting over as if that thought held her back once again. “I ended up here, finding Ellagine, Optimistic, and Arldrine right after the Rakhai fled. Once here, I realized my powers were not in vain. I was meant to help you because you were nearly dead and already passing. The Rakhai would have claimed your soul and then you would have…” Glashar paused, sucking in air through her lips. “In a way, you would have become one of them.” Her eyes were lost, staring off as if she were reliving the moment. “Ellagine was upset. She used all her power to drive the Monrages away. She was exhausted, and what she had done was not enough. This is why I am here. I was given a limited amount of power, the ability to stand between life and death. I have wielded great powers in my day, but the more I use it, the more it fades. I used up all of my remaining power, stretching it to its full extent to bring you back because you are the One. Now you will heal and grow strong.”
Eliesmore felt humbled. Something had kept her from fleeing to the Beyond and had thrown her into his path to heal him. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
“What more could I do?” Glashar stood, her large eyes unwilling to display emotion. “You are the One.”
An uncomfortable silence followed. Eliesmore rose, unsure what else he should say. The Idrains were uncanny, as easy as it was to sing and dance in their presence, when it came to the grave happenings in the world, he did not know how to react.
“Eliesmore!” Optimistic’s hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around. “We thought…” A huge grin covered his face. “We thought you were gone, and now you’re back, alive again!”
Before Eliesmore could respond, Arldrine ran up beside him. She seemed more of a serious one, but her joy was unmistakable. “You’re alive.” She flung back her head and laughed with relief. Optimistic joined her, his deep-throated chuckle dissipating the gloomy aura of the forest. Eliesmore took a deep breath. Their joy was intoxicating, and he found himself laughing, knowing the fate from which he was saved. The next thing he knew, both Optimistic and Arldrine were embracing him, patting him on the back and asking him how he felt. When Eliesmore lifted his head, Ellagine was there.
Arldrine and Optimistic fell back as Eliesmore walked up to Ellagine. There were tears in her eyes, and she twisted her fingers together, like a child who made a mistake and was begging for forgiveness. He wanted to reach out and comfort her. He wanted to tell her it was all right; he had been saved. Instead, unless words fell from his mouth: “Thank you.” She knelt, touching him gently as if he might break. When she was sure he was okay, she lay her head against his warm chest and held him tight.
They decided not to travel farther that day, giving Eliesmore time to eat and regain his strength. “What happened?” Eliesmore asked as they lounged in the forest.
Ellagine sighed, letting her exhaustion fleeing between her lips. “It was all quite terrible.” She shuddered. Her eyes were strained as if she had seen too much and h
adn’t slept for days. She described what happened after the Monrage stabbed him and Optimistic’s comforting song. “There was nothing I could do.” Her voice broke. “You turned cold, which was strange because the Monrages burn first and then freeze. I think going backward made you worse. You would not wake up, and we couldn’t tell if your heart was beating. You were cold as death, and I could do nothing.” Tears filled Ellagine’s eyes, and her lips trembled. She brushed them away impatiently and went on, her voice sinking. “I never thought the day would come when I was powerless to help you. I thought the quest would fail and you would die or become something horrible. I thought the end had come and we would all be given over to the power of evil to be tormented forever. But Glashar came. Using her powers, she waged war against the Great-Black-Evil. They had already taken you by then, and she fought long and hard to win you back. As she gained the upper hand, the cold slipped away, and now you are warm and alive…” She broke off, emotion overwhelming her.
“Yes.” Glashar sat apart from the others with her arms folded. “I do not know what lasting effects the encounter with the Monrages will have on you. Only time will tell.” Her eyes were pensive as she gazed into the dark wood. Pulling herself together, she sat up straight. Worry left her face. “When Ellagine fought the Rakhai, there was a shift in the balance of power. The Monrages lost their horses but were seized with strength. I am afraid they killed many White Steeds. The Iaen continued in their flight to the Beyond; however, eleven horses, the swiftest in the land, were brought here by the Daelidrains. These are the things I saw as I fled through the woods. There is more. The Xctas and Zikes of the Western World are on their way with a great company of Mermis, descendants of Crinte the Wise and Marklus the Healer. The Silver Herd from Spherical Land is bringing them here to help us. They will come and persuade Black Steeds to become White Steeds and fight with us. It will take them anywhere from six months to a year to arrive because they have only just started. It gives us hope, knowing help will come even in this dark world. Eliesmore, if your quest is not completed, the Four Worlds will sink. You have a task similar to the Five Warriors except it is far greater. The world is in your hands, even though there are evil powers you cannot see. Do not be discouraged because there is hope. You are the One. You can defeat them all, which is why I am coming with you.”
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 12