He shook his head as he met her at the bottom of the hill. “Not yet.” His words came out thick and harsh.
When she got closer, she could see a storm of fury on his face. “What’s wrong?”
He brushed past her, his eyes barely seeing her. “Nothing. I must speak with Ellagine.”
Arldrine bit her lip in disappointment, letting her hands drop. She told herself it did not matter. Zhane had his duties as she had hers. It was better if they did not speak. She cast one final glance in Zhane’s direction. He was already deep in conversation with Ellagine and Glashar. No longer hungry, she walked uphill to join Dathiem.
He jumped when she appeared beside him. He was muttering under his breath before she arrived. “Oh, it’s you.” He smiled at her, turning his lips up and not letting his teeth show.
“Who did you think it was?” Arldrine glanced down the hill and back to Dathiem in confusion.
“Zhane or…Glashar.” He spoke her name gently as if she might hear if he spoke it too loudly.
Arldrine sat down, stretching her legs over the rippling grass. He joined her, taking a sip from a flask before holding it out to her.
“Ah, you’re still drinking,” she observed, eyeing the flask before taking a long draught from it. A calming sensation rushed through her body. She closed her eyes, letting the cares and worries of the quest fade away. “Thanks.” She handed it back to Dathiem.
He tucked it away, nodding. “I know I shouldn’t but…” He shrugged, staring off into the hills.
They sat quietly for a few moments. Neither felt the urge to fill the air with useless words. Arldrine lay back, propping herself up on her elbows.
“How are you holding up?” Dathiem inquired.
“How are all of us holding up?” she deflected, unwilling to talk about her emotions.
“Our progress is slow. I have my suspicions.” He shrugged.
“There are many of us.” Arldrine gestured down the hill. “And it’s true we all have our own concerns and motives. As long as we keep our final goal in mind and as long as we trust each other, we will be okay.”
Dathiem’s face reddened. He reached for his flask. “What if some of us aren’t trustworthy?”
“We are the only ones left,” she argued. “We cannot fail. There is no life and no law. The Wise Ones have forsaken us. The Watchers stay hidden in their land.”
“I know,” he interrupted her. “It’s the west…I worry what will happen when we reach the west.”
Arldrine hummed a response, knowing Dathiem and Zhane came from the west. They were like brothers, having grown up in a town near the mountains until the Black Steeds invaded once and for all. “When I was at the home of Novor Tur-Woodberry and his Singing Men, Fúlishités, as they call them, he mentioned the west. Dathiem…” Her voice grew urgent. “Are there mankind in the west?”
“Men?” Dathiem froze, the word piercing the air like a blade.
“Yes. Humans.”
“The race of men,” Dathiem spoke in awe, facing Arldrine. “Why do you ask?”
“After Eliesmore dissolves the Green Stone, we will need an army to fight the Changers and the Black Steeds. If there are men and if they are real, we could use their help.”
Dathiem watched the horizon, considering. “What makes you think they will help us? After all, Novor Tur-Woodberry and his Singing Men will not come to our aid.”
“It’s because they cannot,” Arldrine explained. “If they leave the land they were given, the Land of Lock, their power will fade, and they will become like us.”
“Power.” Dathiem opened his hand as if expecting vestiges of power to manifest.
“They have hidden themselves well if they exist. Where is there to hide in the west?”
“If you seek men,” Dathiem told her. “You should go to the western mountain ranges. Perhaps you can ask Wekin to draw us a map, and I will point it out to you.”
“Or you can just come with me,” Arldrine suggested.
Dathiem smiled and then chuckled. “Perhaps you should ask Zhane.”
Arldrine grimaced; her eyes were drawn back down the hill to where Zhane and Idrithar were deep in conversation. “I will go alone. You and the others will be busy helping Eliesmore.”
“There is an army coming from the Western World. You don’t think they will be enough?”
Arldrine shook her head. “Something tells me we need to prepare for the worst.”
“Am I interrupting?” Glashar’s questioning voice invaded their conversation.
“No,” Arldrine responded. Her black hair stirred in a slight breeze, dancing behind her back.
“Glashar,” Dathiem breathed, his tone a mix of desire and relief.
“I brought food.” Glashar handed a leaf of food to Arldrine and one to Dathiem before sitting down beside Dathiem.
“Oh,” Arldrine exclaimed under her breath. Everything made sense as she looked from Glashar’s flushed face to Dathiem’s expression. She stood. “Thank you, Dathiem, for the information.”
“Where are you going?” Glashar asked. “Sit with us.”
Arldrine glanced at them again, stepping away. “I think not. I must rejoin the young Crons.” She spun, striding down the hill before either could utter another word. It was not her place to warn them, yet she feared their attraction for each other would distract them from the quest.
41
Eliesmore
Eliesmore opened his eyes to pink streaks in the sky. He smiled lazily, watching the glory of dawn fade into a morning rich with beauty. Droplets of dew graced the rich green grass, and he propped himself up on his elbows. Everything came crashing back in an instant; he wasn’t at home with his mother nor had he just returned from dancing with the creatures of the wood. The shadow of fear crept up as he glanced around at his companions.
Optimistic slept beside him, but Yamier and Wekin had vacated their spots, leaving only their packs behind. Eliesmore studied their campsite. Zhane and Dathiem sat with their backs against the hill, eating apples. Ellagine sat with Glashar while Arldrine was speaking to Visra. From the way they waved their arms, it seemed they were arguing. Fastshed and company were grazing in the distance. Idrithar sat on a hilltop. His staff was in his lap, and he had a grave expression on his bearded face.
Eliesmore strapped his sword to his back as he walked toward Zhane. “Where are Yamier and Wekin?”
Zhane looked up, chewing nosily. “We don’t know. Idrithar thinks they have gone to the village.”
“The village? But why? Wasn’t someone watching all night?”
Zhane shrugged, jerking his chin in the direction of Arldrine and Visra. “Yes, they disappeared during Visra’s watch, which is why we don’t think Black Steeds have anything to do with their disappearance. Idrithar is keeping watch should they return.”
Eliesmore recalled Idrithar’s words. Those who are lost remain lost. He walked up the gentle incline and sat down beside Idrithar. “I think they will return,” Eliesmore said, watching the dark blur in the distance that must be the village.
“If they don’t return soon, they will be left behind,” Idrithar announced with finality.
Eliesmore frowned and strained his eyes, hoping the two would make it back. “Look down there,” he pointed.
Idrithar stood up and leaned on his staff, his expression did not change as he nodded. “Yes, here they come. They have been into the village for sure, stirring up trouble.”
Yamier and Wekin were running and carrying sacks of something. They came up the hill, smiling triumphantly.
“What have you got there?” Idrithar demanded as they started down the hill to join the others.
“It smells delicious,” called Optimistic, determined to make light of the situation and delay Idrithar’s anger.
The others got up, grabbed their packs, and surrounded the two Crons. They were curious to hear their story.
“Bacon!” Wekin announced, waving his sack. “There’s plenty for all!”
>
Eliesmore could visibly see the relief in the air at the very words. He glanced at his companions, slightly confused at their hungry expressions. Unbeknownst to him, bacon was a great favorite among Crons and Tiders; Iaens, though, did not particularly care for it.
“And sausage,” Yamier added. He sat down and opened his sack.
“We went from house to house, so we got a lot.” Wekin dug his hands into the bag and began to pass out thick, juicy slices of bacon.
“We got the people to cook it for us, too. That’s what took so long,” Yamier put in.
“And probably told everyone what we are about,” Zhane remarked dryly.
“No, we actually didn’t. Idrithar warned us last night, so we just told them we are weary travelers,” Wekin defended himself between bites.
“Weary travelers?” Dathiem laughed at the irony. “We hardly have been gone.”
“Yamier. Wekin.” Idrithar folded his arms. “We were about to leave without you. If you attempt to risk the quest on something as trivial as bacon and sausage, we will leave you behind.”
Wekin looked up at the sky as if to ask it why he always got himself into trouble.
The sacks of bacon and sausage continued to circulate, and Wekin even went so far as to offer some to Fastshed and company. They simply looked at the bag, and one said, “Bacon and sausage? We’ll settle for grass.”
The Green Company laughed and continued eating. But before long, Idrithar stood. “We must go now and eat on the way. Instead of traveling through the village, it is better we go around it, lest anyone should recognize Yamier and Wekin.”
Zhane stood up and picked up his pack. The horses stopped between mouthfuls of grass. “Are you wanting to ride?” Fastshed asked.
“No, eat your meal. We will ride later,” Idrithar replied. He swung his pack on his back and started up the hill.
The others hastily jumped up and stuffed their mouths full before grabbing their packs and following Idrithar. Once down the last hill, they walked toward the south to go around the village. It was small. Still, going around it was slightly out of their way.
Eliesmore could not keep his mind on food. He ate only a little of the delicious bacon and sausage and declined more, even though the smell of bacon hung in the air.
Glashar was displeased about it. “At this rate,” she complained, “anyone can smell us from far away.”
“Then we leave the sacks. They are almost empty. We can leave them here,” Yamier suggested hopefully.
“In the middle of the grass, I think not,” Zhane said.
Wekin began to lag behind. He felt sorry now for their adventure to get bacon because it seemed to have turned the company against him. Yamier did not look too happy either.
“White steeds!” A cry rent the air. People ran out of the village and headed toward the company. Their faces were angry, and they carried pitchforks, axes, and other tools that could also be used for fighting.
“Ashíea asíhsa! Why are those people following us?” Dathiem cried.
The Green Company halted, standing together. Fastshed and his company were a distance away, eating grass, when they realized the danger.
Zhane's eyes fell on Yamier and Wekin. “They must know we are White Steeds. After all, we are traveling with white horses.” Zhane pointed.
“Why would they want to harm us?” Eliesmore inquired.
“They are angry that we are White Steeds in a Black Steed’s world. We must run,” Idrithar stated.
Ellagine shimmered pale green. She called, “Wistfes seftisws mocteo etomoc.”
Fastshed and company turned and cantered toward the group. The people’s cries grew louder as they quickly ran toward the small group of White Steeds.
“We’ll have to ride fast,” Idrithar told the horses as they came up.
“Mount up, and we will go. We shall go no faster than slow gallop; we have just eaten,” Fastshed answered.
“A canter will do fine,” Idrithar said as he leaped onto Fastshed’s back.
Eliesmore hurried over to Flywinger who still had grass sticking out of his mouth. Flywinger knelt as Eliesmore mounted. He called, “Come ride with me, Optimistic.”
Optimistic climbed up behind Eliesmore with little difficulty. Flywinger rose, and the two watched as Dathiem gave Yamier and Wekin a leg up; then he sprang onto his mount. Arldrine was the last; she glanced back at the people, and then they set off while the people continued to run and shout: “White Steeds!”
Eliesmore saw a swarm of angry faces, which were quickly left behind in a cloud of dust. The village grew smaller as well, turning into merely a speck on the landscape.
Back on course, the horses began galloping. The grass was now yellow-green. The ground swelled and rolled into gentle hills that were spaced evenly apart.
Eliesmore rode uneasily on Flywinger. He was still upset by the episode at the village. He wondered if all Black Steeds in the South World hated White Steeds with a passion. The nauseating fear began to creep up on him as his brain whirled with thoughts. If all the Black Steeds, even those who seemed to live at peace in their villages, wanted to hunt and kill the White Steeds, how much more dangerous was the world? With every route and every road they took, they had to stay out of sight from everyone. It was a task hard to accomplish within such a large company. Slight mistakes led to an uproar; wisdom had to be at the forefront of every decision. Impossibilities rose up in his mind: the Rakhai were chasing them, the Black Steeds were full of hate, and he, the One to do the three deeds, was laughable. Others were better equipped; others had more knowledge.
Eliesmore wondered if he would ever be carefree and happy again, such as the days when he danced with the Iaen. He wondered if the land would ever be bright and beautiful as it once was in a time he had never seen.
Eliesmore closed his eyes, and a sad, tired look stole over his face. They had only been traveling three days, and already the Monrages had chased and fought them, the Wodnidrains had come after them, they had lost two White Steeds, and Yamier and Wekin had gone off to get bacon and caused an uproar in the village. But it wasn’t their fault that they did not think. Beginning to feel amused, Eliesmore opened his eyes and looked back at the two. They looked very sorry as they rode together. Eliesmore wondered how their lives had been when they were younger. As for himself, he felt he had woken out of a beautiful dream and come to terms with the evil of the world. His childhood seemed far away. As if sensing his thoughts, Optimistic placed a comforting hand on Eliesmore’s shoulder and squeezed.
After a while, Idrithar called out, “Rashla alhsar, we rest now.”
“Rest?” Yamier perked up. “For the second meal? Does that mean I get to cook?”
“Yes.” Idrithar gave a noncommittal nod. “Zhane will give you a lesson in sword fighting.”
“How long do we have?” Wekin grinned in triumph, punching a fist into the air.
“For an hour or so,” Idrithar responded. “Then we ride long and hard far into the night.”
The horses slowed to a stop on an elevated area. The company dismounted in various ways: jumping, tumbling, or floating to the ground. Once free of all burdens, the horses began to graze. Yamier sat down and pulled open his pack, murmuring to himself. “It’s a good thing I thought to bring my cooking gear. Wait, there’s no firewood!”
“Come, and I will help you find some.” Dathiem walked down the slope.
Yamier jumped up to join him, and Wekin set down his pack before he ran after them, calling, “Wait for me!”
Glashar eyed Dathiem’s retreating form. “They might need my help.”
While the laughing four disappeared down the hill, Eliesmore lowered his pack to the ground, deciding what to do. Idrithar was sitting at the edge of the incline, eating a bright red apple and talking to Ellagine and Visra. Optimistic perched on a large rock, also eating an apple. Arldrine was nearby, clearing a place for the fire. Zhane, with a glance at Arldrine, pulled out his sword and walked toward Eliesmore.
“While we are waiting, do you feel up to a lesson in sword fighting?”
Eliesmore’s face brightened. “Oh yes.” As he pulled out his sword, the jewels began glistening on it.
They started out with a few well-aimed blows, and after a few minutes, Zhane called, “Halt!” They stopped. “I see you hold your sword well, but loosen up your grip when you fight. Don’t be afraid to move around and follow through with your blows. I can tell you are pulling back at the last moment; don’t be afraid of hurting me,” Zhane instructed.
“That’s right,” Arldrine called as she sat down beside Optimistic to watch. “Zhane’s the best sword fighter around; you couldn’t possibly hurt him.”
Zhane shook his head, pretending not to hear. “Let’s give it another go.”
The two went for another round, metal clanging together in the sunlight. By the end, Zhane was saying, “Better, better. Now faster.”
Up and down their swords flashed side to side and over- and underhanded. Their feet moved quickly. Zhane stepped backward, and Eliesmore kept right up, moving forward until Zhane called for another rest. “In battle,” he began, “you may be surrounded by enemies on foot, so you will have to learn not only to move from side to side but backward and forwards. All the while laying blows.”
“Now it starts to get complicated.” Eliesmore laughed.
“Of course, you seem to be naturally good at swordplay. All you need is the practice,” Zhane encouraged. “Let us stop for now and have an apple for your hard work,” he said, grabbing one from his pack and tossing it over to Eliesmore.
“Thank you.” Eliesmore sheathed his sword. Maybe he would be good at something, and he smiled to himself as he sat down.
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 22