“Wait.” Wekin stood, sputtering. “But I thought…I thought…” He sat down again, unable to finish his thought as disappointment stared out of his blue eyes.
“I did, too.” Yamier patted his shoulder.
Dathiem bowed his head, hiding his face.
Optimistic reached over to Ellagine and squeezed her hand.
“What is the third deed?” Eliesmore tried to keep the quiver out of his voice, even though he could see the blackness dancing around his vision.
“The third deed is to conquer the Dark Three and cut back the power of the Black Steeds,” Idrithar explained. “If it is all out war, so be it.”
Eliesmore wasn’t sure how he found his feet. When he came to, he was standing outside of the meeting room. He was bent over with his hands on his knees. He took deep breaths. His heart was racing. Dissolving the Green Stone was impossible enough, but hunting down the Changers, killing them, and restoring the South World to the White Steeds was impossible. How many of them were left in the world? They would surely die.
32
Eliesmore
“Eliesmore?” Ellagine bent down, attempting to see his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he huffed after a moment, standing straight. “Ellagine?” He watched the shadows dance across her face and the way her cheeks pulled back in worry and her lips parted. Her blue eyes searched his face, waiting. “How come you didn’t tell me everything?”
She licked her lips. “Eliesmore, you ran when I told you about the Green Stone, knowing more or less would not have changed your mind.”
His retort died on his tongue, knowing she was right. He regarded her silently, recalling Glashar’s words of warning and letting them fall to dust. Ellagine did not frighten him; he could feel her aura of compassion enveloping him. She wanted him to succeed.
“I have something for you.” Reaching into the bag she wore tied around her waist, she pulled out an amulet. It was silver with a crown inside a star that lay inside a shining circle with four points shooting out from it. As Eliesmore took it out of her hands, a sense of familiarity overcame him. “It matches the one on your sword,” Ellagine added.
“What does it mean?” Eliesmore compared the two.
“The Watchers of the Four Worlds use this symbol; originally, it comes from the Green People. It is the light of Shalidir.”
It felt heavy in his hands. “Shalidir,” he echoed. “Is that a person or a place?”
Ellagine moved back toward the meeting hall; she put her hand on the doors. “She was a Green Person who built the Idrain Fountain where the Green Stone will be dissolved. Are you ready?”
He wanted to say no and to tell her he’d never be ready. Fear faded, leaving the old anger he’d felt when he first met her. It was her fault he was forced into being the One, and while he liked his new friends and the idea of adventure, he did not want to fight Changers. It seemed for a moment that he could dash down the halls, out of the fortress, and escape from his fate. Her eyes caught his, warning him not to leave. “We are your protectors.”
Wekin was standing in the middle of the meeting hall, pleading. The mischievous sparkle was gone from his eyes, granting him an older air. “Yamier and I would like to join the company of warriors who are going to do the three deeds. It seems useless to stay here when we could be helping. I am good with maps, Yamier can cook, we can carry bags, and…” he trailed off, his eyes beseeching Idrithar.
Indonesia walked toward him, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder. She placed one hand on her heart. “Idrithar, I know you do not want Yamier and Wekin to come. The journey is long and the quests too dangerous. Yet, they are the youngest of us all, and the most willing to go. They are Crons. They are seekers.” Lifting her sharp eyes, she addressed Idrithar. “Take them. Take everyone here. My kind, the Mermis, belong here. A day will come when the White Steeds come out of hiding. They will come to this fortress to take up arms, and we will give them their tasks.”
Idrithar pursed his lips in response. “I cannot say this choice pleases me, but it is decided. We leave today before midday.”
Indonesia stepped away from Wekin, dropping her hands to her side. She motioned for the Green Company to gather together. “There is a blessing my grandfather taught me.” Leaka and Sletaira moved to opposite corners of the room, lifting their hands with their palms to the sky as they surrounded the company. They closed their eyes and began to chant, their words weaving through the room like ribbons. They cast sparks of silver and gold.
The blessing surged through Eliesmore, blowing away the fear, anger, and thoughts of darkness. It scattered the webs of confusion from his mind, leaving nothing except encouragement and power. He took a deep breath, allowing the urge to flee to disappear into the dark recesses of his memory.
“We shall call you the Green Company.” Indonesia broke the spell. “Here, we’ve had green cloaks made for each of you, and your packs are waiting in the dining hall.”
The three Mermis moved forward. They handed out the cloaks and touched each head as they passed, sealing the blessing.
“No one goes anywhere alone,” Idrithar called over the flurry of activity as they prepared to leave. “Remember, our intent is to protect Eliesmore and Optimistic at all costs. Those who are lost in our journey will remain lost.”
Eliesmore barely heard Idrithar's words as he felt his green cloak drape around him. A walking stick was pressed into his hands, and a pack was slung over his shoulder. Zhane stood over him, “It’s easier if you carry your sword on your back,” he explained. Eliesmore nodded as if he were in a dream while Zhane showed him how to strap the sword to his back.
Yamier and Wekin jumped up and down, whispering to each other as if saying it out loud would make it real. We’re going. Can you believe it? They are letting us come. This will be our moment. Idrithar pulled Ellagine aside and spoke into her ear. Her face changed, and her hair slipped forward, hiding her expression as she nodded. Optimistic handed items to Arldrine, carrying a light conversation as they worked together. Dathiem departed from the room with the white horses. It seemed Visra and Glashar had disappeared as well. “It is time to go do the three deeds,” Idrithar announced, and Eliesmore heard the words in a fog. Even with his protectors, he was alone.
33
Glashar
Glashar leaned on one of the white columns of the fortress with her arms crossed. Her eyes blurred and unfocused as she waited for the sensation. It hadn’t hit her until she saw Visra again. Now she understood the gaping hole the loss of powers left. Perhaps her decision had been rash. Memories of the ceremony rose before her: the Idrains stood in the circle of the amulet of Shalidir, chanting. Their arms rose and fell like their words. Their auras twisted around each other until they became one. They drew power from its source, setting it free before capturing its essence. She could smell the sharpness of it and taste the flavors that made her eyes burn brighter and her steps faster. She missed the thrilling elation and the knowledge that her kind could do anything they pleased. Only they had deserted the world, leaving it to the hands of the Changers. If they had stayed and if they had faced the Changers, there would be no need for the One. Time and time again, the Idrains had a chance to save the world, yet they ignored its plea and turned an inward eye to their own wishes. Seven years ago, she would have done what they had; she would not be like them now. She would make a stand. Even as her thoughts swirled in silver cyclones around her, the cold blade of a sword pricked her neck. She froze. Waiting.
“I should kill you now.” The venom in Visra’s voice was potent. “While no one is looking. Only the trees will see this, and they’ll believe the Black Steeds have returned.”
“You don’t want to kill me,” Glashar whispered, her face turning warm.
“Why not? You took everything from me.”
“We have a quest. You cannot do this without me.”
“It’s not a quest. It's suicide. We’re all going to die when we get to the end.”
All the same, the sword moved away from Glashar’s throat.
“Yes,” Glashar confirmed, still frozen in place. “We are all going to die. Wait. Wait until then.”
“But you are like me. We are powerless. Why wait?” Visra moved closer, and her fingers strayed over Glashar’s throat.
In the blink of an eye, Glashar spun, elbowing Visra in the back and pinning her to the column. She twisted her hand behind her back. “You forget,” Glashar whispered in her ear. “I’m just as strong as you. I may not wear the skin of an assassin on the outside, but I’m just as lethal. Stop hiding behind your tough demeanor. We are Idrains, regardless of our power.”
Visra struggled out of the hold. Her eyes were emotionless. “We may be on this quest together. Still, I don’t forgive you for what you did to me.”
Glashar backed away with her hands up. “I’m not sorry. It was the right thing to do.”
Visra spun on her heel. “That’s what’s wrong with you. You have no remorse. You want your version of ‘right,’ but you never think about the consequences.”
“Spare me your untruths,” Glashar flung over her shoulder as she walked away.
34
Eliesmore
A clod of dirt, old roots, and decayed leaves lay at his feet. He kicked them, watching the crumbles bounce across the dead ground. Life had forsaken the South World. “Eliesmore.” Leaka looped her arm through his elbow. “Come with me.” She walked with him down the wide steps of the fortress. “You must be very brave.”
“I don’t feel very brave,” Eliesmore admitted. He sank into her touch. Her warm hand on his arm was a comfort.
“When I was young, I grew up between two worlds,” Leaka remarked. Eliesmore noticed the other Mermis were leading the Green Company to white horses, three by three. They drifted to each one: touching, embracing, and saying goodbye. “Our Father, may he rest in peace, was a great hero in his time. He had honor, respect, and the love of all things that live and breathe. Being his daughter, I struggled to find my place in the world because of assumed expectations. If you ever feel the same way: lost and lonely, reach out. You have skilled warriors protecting you, and you also have friends.”
“Why did you do it?” Eliesmore tilted his head toward hers. “Why did you leave your world to come here?”
A throaty laugh escaped her lips. Her fingers squeezed his arm. “Why does anyone leave except for the sake of adventure?”
“Saving the world doesn’t seem like an adventure,” he countered.
“Oh? It depends on your perspective.” They halted in front of a horse, and Leaka reached up, placing a hand on its nose. “Eliesmore, this is Flywinger. Flywinger, meet Eliesmore.”
Flywinger snorted and shook his head, his silvery mane moving up and down. “Hello, Eliesmore. I am Flywinger. I love to run.” He turned to the side, allowing Eliesmore to mount up.
“Have you ridden before?” Leaka asked, stroking Flywinger’s side.
“Once.” Eliesmore shuddered, thinking back to the impromptu flight from the Rakhai.
“Grip with your thighs, and by all means, do not pull his mane.” She cupped her hands. “I’ll give you a leg up.”
Feeling inadequate, Eliesmore allowed her to help him mount up. “I’m sorry we did not get to talk longer.” He looked down at the Mermi. “I would have liked to hear more about your father and your journey.”
Leaka smiled; her pointed teeth glittered in her mouth. “We will speak again. When you return.” She patted his knee, a gesture that reminded him of his mother, and a teardrop of sorrow enfolded his heart.
“We ride north with Fastshed and his company until we reach the upper edge of the Sandy Sizge Hills,” Idrithar called, springing up on Fastshed. He tucked his staff behind him. “From there, we turn west.”
Indonesia, Sletaira, and Leaka stood shoulder to shoulder. As Fastshed leaned into a gallop, they lifted their hands in farewell. Eliesmore twisted on Flywinger’s back, watching their exotic forms fade into the trees. The fortress disappeared in a blur as if it had never been there. The horses picked their way through the thick underbrush. Vines poked and prodded Eliesmore as he ducked low over Flywinger’s back, gently twining his fingers through the silver mane. It was only a few minutes before his eye caught the cusp of a blue twinkle, and he started, sitting up straighter on Flywinger’s back and looking out. The trees parted like doors, and he caught his breath in excitement as the view ripped into his vision, opening his senses. Before him lay a great body of water much like the Jaded Sea. It was a sea of sapphire, bathing itself in sparkling light. He watched the way the waves twinkled as they curved, creating a song and dancing to music only they could hear. White froth threw itself on the shore, scattering the bleached sands and tossing up lily pads, bracken, and seaweed. The light salt tickled his nose and charmed his tongue, and just when he thought the taste of raw fishiness would turn his insides, he caught another odor—strong and distinct but not unpleasant. It quivered around him before it disappeared.
“Ready?” A voice drifted to him, and it was a few seconds before he noticed Flywinger was speaking to him. Before he could reply, Flywinger stretched out his neck, picked up his hooves, and began to run. They dashed across the sand, sending sprays of grit flying out behind him. Eliesmore closed his eyes, leaning into the acceleration as moist wind slapped against his face. Their speed picked up until he felt a bouncing in his heart like he was flying. He heard the thunder of the Green Company as they tore up the beach. They were headed north to uncertain lands. Anxiety drifted away as an involuntary smile covered his face. He felt foolish as he grinned like an idiot. This must be the spirit of the Cron his mother had passed on to him: the desire to be out in the wild where adventure was his for the taking and the freedom of traveling through glorious lands where mysteries awaited. He basked in the knowledge he was not alone, only one of those seekers, those Treasure Hunters, one who would right the world. Something gave way in his heart, and he didn’t know how, but he found himself laughing like he was back in the glade singing and dancing with the creatures of the wood.
Pink rays shot across the sky, and the horses slowed to a canter. The shores had long since faded, leaving the water of Oceantic naught but a dream. Pale grasses flowed over Sanga San, and Eliesmore was still burning with excitement when Idrithar called for a halt. Flywinger snorted, his body heaving as he caught his breath. Eliesmore tumbled off him, watching the white horses drift away. The horses grazed in the grass, their noses searching for fresh water. Unsure of what to do next, he turned and observed his companions. Glashar stood on a hill and watched the south with her arms folded across her chest. Idrithar walked up the slope toward her. His deep voice drifting to Eliesmore’s ears: “What do you see?”
“Nothing yet.” Glashar’s eyes remained forward. “It is not safe. We should not tarry here long.”
“Fastshed and company need a rest,” Idrithar agreed. “We eat here and then move on.”
Glashar gave him a brief nod as he walked away, staying where she was.
Eliesmore turned to the west. Dathiem and Zhane were walking among the white horses. Curious, Eliesmore observed as they went to each one, patting their backs, rubbing their noses, and speaking with them. Before he could question their actions, he was distracted by a whiff of smoke. Yamier was standing over a fire, poking at something in a hole he’d created below the fire. Optimistic and Wekin sat cross-legged on the ground near him. Optimistic waved his hands as he talked, and Wekin laughed as he picked at the grass, tossing it aside to create a mud pile for himself. Further north, Arldrine stood with Ellagine and Visra. They strode down the hill and disappeared out of sight. “Eliesmore!” Optimistic waved a hand over his head. “Come join us.”
By the time Eliesmore reached them, he could see Wekin drawing a map of the Eastern Hill Countries in the dirt. “How did you learn how to do that?” he asked, staring at the details of hill and forest.
“My father was a mapmaker.” Wekin’s blue eyes dr
ifted before they focused and a grin came to his face. “He taught me. It’s the one skill I have.” He laughed. “And likely the only reason Idrithar let Yamier and me come along. I’m a mapmaker, and Yamier is a cook. We can’t do much else.”
“Don’t discredit your talent,” Optimistic encouraged.
“What about your weapons?” Eliesmore’s noted Wekin’s sword.
Wekin shrugged. “I don’t think I can fight. I have a sword, but I am terrible at using it, despite Zhane's instruction.”
“I don’t know how to use mine either,” Eliesmore admitted. “It’s mostly out of fear, I think.”
“What?” Dropping his stick, Wekin jumped up, and his mouth hung open. “But you’re the One. You are supposed to know everything. How can you be the One if you don’t even know how to fight?”
“Aye!” Yamier walked over. “Wekin keep it down.” He glanced around to see who had seen the outburst. “I see Idrithar looking over here. I don’t want to get into trouble.”
“I don’t care,” Wekin announced, sticking his nose in the air. He turned back to Eliesmore. “What did you learn growing up?”
Eliesmore sat down, surprised and offended by Wekin’s outburst. It only confirmed his suspicions. How was he supposed to be the One if he didn’t know the languages of the world, how to fight, or even how to navigate? “My mother told me tales of the Heroes of Old,” he began. Wekin’s curious blue eyes caused his memories to unlock. “Every year we planted a garden. I know how to make plants grow and how to harvest them, and I do know a thing or two about cooking.” He squared his shoulders, feeling better about himself. “I think my mother knew I was the One; she kept me close. The only time I was away from her was when I snuck out to dance with the Iaens and creatures of the wood.”
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 18