Eliesmore and the Green Stone

by Angela J. Ford

  Placing their hands on the horses’ backs, the Green Company stood in silence; they let the memory of their lost comrades sink in.

  Eliesmore shifted, realizing he’d never known the names of the lost horses. He wanted to walk away from the moment of silence, feeling guilt rise up. It was his fault, after all, that the horses were dead. Killed. The Rakhai were after him. Perhaps it would be better if he and Optimistic slunk away. Even as he thought it, Eliesmore knew he was too selfish to do anything other than follow the Green Company. He had no idea where they were nor where they were going. He assumed west toward the sea. How would they cross it? What mysteries lay on the other side? He wanted to leave and move onward without waiting for the company to grieve. It seemed an eternity until Fastshed lifted his head and told Idrithar he was ready to move on. Eliesmore turned away; he was the first to break the circle as he searched for Flywinger. Walking up to the giant stallion, he smiled. “Hello, Flywinger. I’m glad you’re safe.” Even as the words came out of his mouth, they felt wrong.

  Flywinger tossed his mane. “Eliesmore.”

  Dathiem walked up to distract him; a frown was centered between his brows. "Here, I'll give you a leg up." He bent his knee and cupped his hands. Dathiem’s dark brown hair had been braided back, and Eliesmore could see shades of red as the sunlight hit it. Feeling intimidated, he accepted Dathiem’s help and settled onto Flywinger’s back. He opened his mouth to express his thanks, but the words were stuck in his throat.

  "Optimistic." Dathiem spun, not one for small talk. "Come. Ride with me."

  Eliesmore saw Glashar out of the corner of his eye. She was scowling with her arms crossed before Ellagine tapped her on the shoulder. She nodded, still eyeing Dathiem and Optimistic. Eliesmore sighed. The attack of the Rakhai had damped their spirits; he could see the dejection in the way the Green Company moved. It was folly to think he could do this. One day out, and they’d already been chased, lost two companions, and morale was low. If this was the way the quest was going to go, he wanted to escape. His head ached with thoughts as they surged forward. Seconds later, a shot of pain slammed into his forehead.

  Lifting a hand, he prodded the tender skin on his head. His hand came away with only one drop of blood. He reached up again, feeling something wedged into his skin. Gritting his teeth, he pulled it out with a grunt, surprised to find himself holding a thorn. He glanced around. Who was hurling thorns at him? He tried to catch a glimpse of Visra or Yamier and Wekin. The usual suspects were nowhere in his vicinity.

  “Wodnidrains!” Idrithar’s deep voice boomed from ahead. “Gallop!”

  Fastshed and company leaped forward. Their hooves gained speed as they moved from a trot into an all out gallop. Eliesmore heard a screech, and looking up, he caught a glimpse of a miniature creature. Instantly, he was reminded of his time dancing with the creatures of the wood, where tiny creatures in the trees were not impossible to believe in. Though back then he’d never seen creatures such as these. They were about twelve inches tall with long black hair cascading down their backs. Coal black eyes stared out of heart-shaped faces; thorn-tipped arrows hurled into Eliesmore’s body as they lifted their bows. Despite himself, he shrieked.

  “Aiii, get them!” a high-pitched voice screamed.

  Eliesmore ducked as a volley of arrows rained down on him and his companions.

  “Pull your hoods up, and watch your heads,” Zhane ordered.

  “Revenge!” shrieked Visra.

  “Try not to kill them,” Ellagine called, a hint of impatience in her voice. “They are not the enemy.”

  Eliesmore bent low over Flywinger, pulling more thorns out of his back and shoulders. The tiny creatures were relentless; they hopped from treetop to treetop, easily keeping pace with the Green Company. At one point, a horse went down, tossing its riders into a clump of trees. Eliesmore glanced back to see Arldrine emerge, screaming obscenities up to the trees as she attempted to shield her face from the arrows. Impatiently, she raised her bow, and an arrow shattered the treetops.

  Eliesmore gulped and looked away, wondering if his companions were all warriors without control. He recalled Visra waving her sword and Ellagine slamming balls of green fire into the Monrage without stopping. If it came to all out war, it seemed they would let their bloodlust control them instead of their minds. Would he be like them? A warrior without control seeking to kill and destroy? Didn’t they endeavor to prevent the onslaught of death and destruction? It seemed the world had fallen into a lack of respect for life, and he began to realize he knew very little about the companions he traveled with. He was the outsider.

  Just as he thought they were ridding themselves of the Wodnidrains, he heard a buzzing close to his ear. “Don’t move, or I will shoot your ear off,” the voice squeaked.

  It reminded him of a mouse, singing shrilly in the glade of the creatures of the wood. He sat as still as he could on Flywinger’s back, although the motion of galloping forced his body to rock forward.

  “I have a message,” the squeaking continued. “Your presence is requested in Daygone. The Dark One would like to speak with you. Go to Daygone.”

  The buzzing ceased, and just when Eliesmore thought it was safe to look around, an arrow slammed into his neck. He heard a tiny laugh as the Wodnidrain dashed away, chortling over her shoulder at him.

  Eliesmore felt his eyes water as he reached up, biting his lip to keep from crying out as he withdrew the thorn from his neck. He tossed it beneath Flywinger’s pounding hooves. Of course the Dark One wanted a word with him. He likely wanted to kill him and take the Green Stone. He would never go to Daygone.

  After the message was the delivered, the Wodnidrains ceased shooting arrows, or perhaps they ran out of thorns. The trees turned into thinner saplings, and the Green Company rode forward into the rolling hills of Sanga San. The hills were steep, almost shooting straight up in sharp angles. The horses slowed to a stop at the sight of them. Idrithar held up a hand and dismounted, allowing Zhane and Dathiem to join him. There was a brief discussion with Fastshed and much pointing at the hills. At last, Idrithar turned around and announced: “These are the Sanga San hills. We will walk for a while.”

  “Walk!” Wekin exclaimed. “It will slow us down considerably!”

  “Yes, Wekin,” Idrithar replied. “Fastshed and his company are already tired. They don’t need to carry us up those hills and down again.”

  “Can they carry our packs?” Yamier piped up.

  “Why don’t you ask them? They have tongues,” Zhane suggested.

  Yamier looked a little timid about asking the horses as he dismounted, so Wekin, of course, did it for him. Eliesmore laughed quietly to himself.

  Once everyone had dismounted and tied their packs securely to Fastshed and his company, they started up the hill. The incline was steep, so they went slowly, nearly crawling up the hill at times.

  “I wish this hill weren’t so steep. I hope in the Sandg Sizge Hills we won’t be climbing up and down hills,” Wekin complained.

  “Well, at least this isn’t the Cascade Mountain Range,” Optimistic said cheerfully.

  Wekin gave Optimistic an irritated look. “Yes, but those are mountains. These are supposed to be hills!”

  “You’re just having a hard time because you can’t float.” Glashar laughed as she and Visra walked up the hill effortlessly.

  “And we’re short,” Yamier said disgustedly.

  “I wish I were a tall Cron, like Idrithar,” Wekin grumbled, sighing loudly as he slowly climbed uphill.

  “Don’t feel sorry for yourself. I’m only as tall as you are,” Arldrine said. “Besides,” she whispered mischievously, “Optimistic and Eliesmore are shorter.”

  “Oh,” Wekin said, at a loss for words. “Well…”

  Arldrine smiled and nodded. “That’s right, Wekin. It’s best not to say anymore.”

  Wekin looked to Yamier for support. Yamier, who was not feeling sympathetic, just laughed.

  When they got to t
he top of the steep hill, Eliesmore found his side was hurting, and even Optimistic looked uncomfortable. Glashar and Visra were already walking down the hill as if gravity were not a problem for them. Idrithar, Zhane, Dathiem, and Ellagine scouted out the territory before slowly and carefully heading down. At last, the five shorter ones came huffing and puffing their way up, only to stare at dismay at the long, everlasting sight of hills running onward.

  “Oh no.” Wekin shook his head. “This is not happening; I am too tired to walk another step.” And he promptly squatted down at the top of the hill to catch his breath.

  “You’ll have to,” Arldrine said, starting down with Optimistic and Eliesmore trudging at her heels.

  Yamier nudged Wekin, upsetting his balance. With a yell, Wekin fell forward, arms flying in the air. He snatched at Yamier, and the two fell headlong, rolling down the hill. They crashed into Arldrine, Optimistic, and Eliesmore with such force that all five of them continued down the endless slope with nothing to make them stop. They crashed into Idrithar, Zhane, Dathiem, and Ellagine, who managed to stay on their feet. Glashar and Visra had already reached the bottom and barely missed getting hit by the mess of flying feet, shouts, moans, and groans.

  Zhane was laughing as he ran down to help everyone up. “Next time, Wekin, don’t sit so precariously at the edge of the hill.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Wekin complained. “Yamier pushed me.”

  “Next time, think a little before you act, Yamier and Wekin,” Idrithar advised.

  A moment later, Fastshed and company appeared at the top of the hill asking, “What happened?”

  The sunlight faded out of the sky, and as the time for the last meal passed, Zhane stood on top of one of the hills and surveyed the landscape. “We stop here,” he announced. “There are no more hills, and tomorrow we shall have to pass through a small village. We camp between the hills tonight.”

  Yamier collapsed. “I’m glad. I’m so tired,” he said as he curled up to go to sleep.

  The others sat down while Wekin sat staring up at the last hill. “What about going on to the village? We could find an inn with warm beds and good, hot food,” he suggested dreamily.

  “No, we will not go to the inn,” Idrithar said. “You talk too much, and you will tell everyone where we are going and what we are doing. We will sleep on the hard ground and eat cold food. There will be no fires tonight.”

  Wekin lay back and looked up at the stars. He turned to Yamier, and Eliesmore heard him whisper, “We need some bacon. If we had bacon, everything would be better.”

  Eliesmore leaned back against the hill between Optimistic and Yamier. “How is your wound?” he asked Optimistic.

  “Better, much better, although I can feel it when I trek up and downhill,” Optimistic said soberly. “Now I know how you felt, except yours is much worse. You know the Rakhai are very angry; they will do anything to get the Green Stone, to kill us, and to keep us from completing the three deeds.”

  “I know. I wish they would go away and never come back.” Eliesmore sighed. "They will hunt us to the Constel Heights and back.”

  “Well, at least they aren’t hunting us, and we can rest,” Optimistic said.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Eliesmore replied, closing his eyes.

  39

  Dathiem

  Dathiem perched on the crest of a rolling hillside, watching the flurry of activity below him as the Green Company set up camp. He felt someone come up beside him and knew it was Zhane without looking. The two of them had an easy friendship, sharing the bonds of adventure and the connection that came from being from the same people group: Tiders. Zhane sighed as he sat down beside Dathiem. “All clear?”

  “Aye.” Dathiem nodded. “I would not expect an open attack here in the Eastern Hill Countries.”

  “Nay. That kind of destruction belongs in the west. If the Black Horse Lords ride this way, we’ll spot them from afar.” Zhane lapsed off, his eyes drawn back to the camp.

  Dathiem followed Zhane’s gaze, seeing where it landed. He paused before speaking his mind, unsure if he were crossing unspoken boundaries. “You’re in love with Arldrine, aren’t you?” It came out more as a statement than a question. The words fell from his lips as calmly as noting the sunset.

  Zhane jerked around to face Dathiem; his eyes were narrow and cautious. “What makes you say that?”

  “You watch, yet you don’t speak to her. It’s as if the two of you are dancing a wary dance of silence. Who will be the first to confess?” Dathiem lips curled for a moment. “I know. I feel the same way about Glashar.”

  Zhane frowned, looking down the hill. “Do you think that is wise?”

  Dathiem gave a short laugh. “No. I’ve wanted to have a word with you. In private.”

  Silence.

  “About?” Zhane prompted Dathiem to continue.

  Dathiem felt his shoulders slump. He took a deep breath, letting the words he did not want to say bite the air. “You know we have to kill the immortals once we get to Castle Range.”

  Zhane’s eyes traveled back down to the encampment, flicking to Glashar and Ellagine, who sat at the base of a hill with theirs heads together in the middle of a discussion. Visra was with Wekin and Yamier, either making fun of them or tempting them with dangerous stories. “Do you mean the Changers or our friends, the Iaen?”

  Dathiem let his gaze fall on Glashar, wondering if she could feel his eyes on her. She seemed to think his thoughts, to know when he was thinking about her, and to come to him when words were on the tip of his tongue. “Our friends, the Idrains,” he repeated softly. Even before the words left his mouth, Zhane was shaking his head. “You know why,” Dathiem added.

  “Dathiem.” Zhane’s tone was even as he explained. “What you are saying is madness. We cannot slay our friends; we would be no better than the Changers and Black Steeds. It’s not up to us to curb their actions.”

  “Don’t you understand?” Dathiem threw his hands in the air, frustrated at having to justify himself. “The Iaens are the reason Changers exist. You know the Green People started this. First they saved Sarhorr, the Ruler, when he went through the portal in the Western World. Then, to add insult to injury, they came here, to the South World, and allowed Magdela the Monrage to rise up from their midst. Time and time again, every occurrence that calls for redemption is because of the Green People, the immortals. What do you think will happen when we reach Castle Range and Eliesmore dissolves the Green Stone? He is weak! He doesn’t have a mind of his own; he does whatever we tell him to do. Look at him, notice who his closest friends are. Do you think it’s a coincidence that Ellagine, Lady of the Green People, found him first? Don’t you think it’s odd that Iaens, who never interfere with mortals, now find it in their best interest to join us in ridding the world of Changers? Don’t you see that Changers threaten the Iaen, and if the immortals can use a dispensable mortal to rid themselves of Changers, they will? Eliesmore, however, is different. He is the One. You know the power of the Green Stone. Once he unleashes it, he will be the most powerful being in all the Four Worlds. If you were immortal, wouldn’t you want to control the One who dissolves the Green Stone? Wouldn’t you brainwash him so he will answer your every beck and call? That’s what they are doing!”

  Dathiem forced himself to stop, although he was shaking with rage. He felt flecks of spit on his cheeks and brushed them off, almost ashamed of his temper. He was sure, though, that Zhane would see how he felt about it. Zhane would understand. He clenched his fists. “They have to die before the Green Stone is dissolved. We need to control what happens next.”

  Beside him, Zhane appeared quite calm. One of his hands grasped his sword hilt as he considered. “I understand, Dathiem. Only what would you propose we do? I am disinclined to murder our friends.”

  “That’s why I wanted to discuss with you. What would you propose? We both know you are more…soft-hearted than I.”

  “Yet you are the one who is in love with an Idrain.�
�� Zhane was quick to point out the irony. “The immortals will have to return to their forests after a time. When they do, we shall go on with Eliesmore. I will get close to him while you distract the Iaens. It is important that Eliesmore understands the ways of the mortals. It is true; he is adaptable in his thinking right now. I hope, in time, he will come to have a mind of his own.”

  “I cannot distract the Iaen alone,” Dathiem mumbled. “Glashar and Visra loathe each other, and Ellagine is distant.”

  “Do what you can. Have you discussed this with Idrithar?”

  Dathiem shook his head. “Not in detail like this. I tried…Perhaps you will succeed.”

  “Humm.” Zhane rose. “Dathiem, promise me you will not murder any of our companions.”

  “I promised to protect the One,” Dathiem countered as he stood beside his best friend.

  Zhane put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “My friend, you have been through enough already. Don’t torment yourself with this choice. Leave it to me.”

  Dathiem nodded, his eyes growing dark as Zhane alluded to his past. Zhane turned to walk down the hill, yet Dathiem’s words stopped him. “Don’t you think you should stop tormenting yourself?”

  Zhane paused, half turning back. “What do you mean?”

  A soft smile came to Dathiem's lips, leaving no traces of his earlier anger. “When it comes to Arldrine.”

  Zhane frowned. “Given the discussion we just had, it would be foolish. I will send Glashar to you with food. Keep watch.”

  Dathiem knew he had crossed a line. Regret washed through his mouth. He watched Zhane walk away before pivoting to observe the landscape. The relief of having shared his concerns with Zhane faded as he watched dark shadows form on the horizon.

  40

  Arldrine

  Arldrine crossed her arms, watching Zhane and Dathiem’s heated discussion on the hilltop. With a frown, she turned back to Yamier and Wekin as they cooked. She let their endless chatter wash over her. Zhane was ignoring her. Perhaps she had misunderstood the discussion they’d had before they left the fortress. She shrugged. Conceivably, it was the lack of conversation. She’d hoped they would be friends and was not expecting to be hit with a wall of silence. Zhane marched down the hill; his expression was guarded. Seizing the moment, she turned to meet him. “Zhane, have you eaten?”