Eliesmore grinned as a fury he’d never known before rose. His brows creased as he moved forward, each blow making him feel stronger, determined. He could do this, regardless of his past. He had the power of the Green Stone, the power of creation. He raised his blade, and a dark bolt slammed into his chest. Pain seized him. Eliesmore staggered, one hand falling from his hilt to grip his chest. His breath came fast in tiny gulps as if he could not get enough. A fire started in his chest, and he bit his lip, determined to keep fighting through the intense misery that seemed intent on consuming him. It spread from his chest into his left arm, numbing him. What folly, to think he could destroy the Changers when they were clearly toying with him.
His right hand, holding his sword, dropped as the throbbing pain spread to it. He blinked as he fought against it, unwilling to believe his failure as the agony forced him to his knees.
He opened his eyes as bright yellow sparks floated in front of him, blocking his view of the Dark Servant. His chest heaved, his fingers uncurled from around his sword hilt. Darkness flashed in front of him as the clawed fingers of the Dark Servant reached out. Through his blurred vision, he saw furry feet walking toward him, curved nails scrapping the stones. The creature threw back its head and howled in victory. The eerie tone rang off the walls, bouncing off of the stones of the chamber and riding up the balcony. Light wavered around Eliesmore as his head lolled back. He searched within himself for something to save him. He was the only One; if he fell, the world would fall. This must be the fate the Truth Tellers attempted to warn him about.
Still gasping for breath, Eliesmore’s memories fled back to his nightmares when he was young, and what his mother said to calm him down. Despite the danger, he closed his eyes as evil tried to overtake him. He stopped breathing and focused. His heartbeat slowed. The howl continued to echo, sending cold chills down his spine like a snake undulating over the rocks of a desert.
The pain lessened, and at that moment, he realized the Dark Servant fought against his pain, his struggle, and his weakness. By taking his confidence, by shattering his control, the Dark Servant was winning. Eliesmore listened as the moment droned on. The howl faded, and the ground shook as the Dark Servant stood in front of him. A strong odor of blood, rot, and corruption washed over Eliesmore as the Dark Servant grabbed him by his hair, yanking his head back. Razor sharp nails dug into Eliesmore’s skull. He hesitated a beat longer, hoping his blind eyes would be sure, hoping he would not give himself away.
As the hand lifted him, he moved. In one fluid motion, his fingers grasped the hilt of the Jeweled Sword. Flipping it around, he thrust it upward with all the strength he could muster.
3
Zhane
“Retreat! Retreat!”
The cry rang from tongue to tongue, passed from the sky to the creatures on the ground.
Zhane whipped around, watching the great dranagin soar into the sky. It belched a cloud of fire over the marching woísts. They shouted and dived while others lifted their bows and let loose a string of black-tipped arrows. The dranagin rose higher, its golden wings disintegrating fluffy gray clouds as it wheeled south, returning to the shimmering mountains. A glimmer began on the edge of Zhane’s vision, coming from the northwest. A trickle of blood ran down his face as he turned, holding his sword before him, although it seemed the Xctas, Zikes, and Mermis had taken over the battle. There were no creatures near him to fight. The sound became muted as he stared at the sky, his hands falling limply to his side. He was unaware his mouth hung open in awe and wonder. Silently he pointed, as the glimmer grew brighter, igniting the sky. Emerald light uncurled above the castle, a new light in the sky, a second sun warming the golden rays of light with motes of vivid green.
Eliesmore had completed the first deed; he had done what the Green Company set out to do. The Green Stone was dissolved. Throwing back his head, Zhane bathed in the light, allowing his heartbreak to desert him. It was time for the White Steeds to rise. Even as he thought those words, he heard shouts surrounding him on the battlefield. His eyes returned to the ground, and he saw warriors in different phases of astonishment.
Two Crons, Black Steeds, knelt on the ground, their faces pointed toward the Green Stone. A pair of Mermis clothed in feathers and mist waved their swords, pointing west. Others were openly staring, mouths ajar, while those who recovered continued to drive the Black Steeds back into the castle.
An army continued to march from the east as the cry rang across the battlefield. “Retreat! Retreat!”
Yamier and Wekin were close by, and he ran toward them, pointing west as he took up the cry.
“Why are we running?” Wekin shouted at him.
Zhane ignored him, leaping over dead bodies as he ran uphill toward Idrithar. A line of Xctas alighted on the hill a distance from the bows of the Black Steeds, allowing their armed riders to dismount and enter the fray.
“Zhane,” Idrithar called, his tone urgent with excitement as he sheathed his sword.
The two met, clasping each other's forearms. Idrithar’s hair was wild from his flight, but a calm light shone out of his warm eyes. “What happened to you, my friend?” Zhane inquired in greeting, knowing the question did not require an answer for now.
“He has done it,” Idrithar pointed at the sky, admiring the green light which shone upon the castle.
It seemed to Zhane as if a portal to a new world had opened, and the heavens rained down blessing and favor. “What now?” he asked, watching the Xctas descend upon the woísts.
“We must go to Werivment. We need to regroup and plan our attack strategy.”
“What about Eliesmore?” Zhane offered. “We need confirmation; we need to know if the Dark Servant is dead.”
“Aye,” Idrithar pursed his lips. “The Rain Warriors will soon arrive, and chaos will ascend on this plain. We must be away. Eliesmore has everything he needs. I assume Optimistic went with him?”
“Yes,” Zhane lifted his sword as a few woísts ran toward them, faces twisted with murderous intent.
“Retreat!” Idrithar bellowed, motioning to the army in the sky. “Retreat to the west!”
4
Ellagine
The roar of the battle rang in Ellagine’s ears as she ran toward the gates, searching for Glashar and Dathiem. Yamier and Wekin were gone, racing ahead with Idrithar, Zhane, and those Mermis who had seen fit to flee. Visra was in the thick of the battle, laughing manically as she sliced through rows of woísts and Crons.
Ellagine’s heart pounded as if it would burst as she searched, walking among the dead, turning over bodies with her sword. When she saw them, she thought both of them were dead. Dathiem lay on his back, his eyes closed, a river of blood staining his chest and side. A flutter of fear pulsed against her ribcage as she tiptoed forward, barely daring to draw breath when they no longer could.
Glashar’s face was nestled in Dathiem’s neck, her back rose and fell in shaky sobs. Ellagine stepped forward, allowing the green glow to rise on her hands, knowing she could do nothing. She was no healer. Sheathing her green sword, Ellagine knelt, bending over Dathiem’s body to touch the Falidrain.
Ribbons of devastation rolled off Glashar’s shoulders, and when she lifted her face a mixture of blood and tears ran freely. She gazed, unseeing, as Ellagine picked her up.
“Stay with me Glashar. We have to flee. We have to retreat.”
One of Glashar’s fists closed tightly around Dathiem’s shirt, refusing to let go.
Ellagine turned and gave a short whistle, holding up a hand. An Xctas dropped out of the sky, beady eyes staring sharply at the three on the ground.
“Please,” Ellagine turned to the creature. “Carry us.”
Ellagine closed her eyes as the airborne beast lifted them. She could not bear to look at Glashar and see the heartbreak ripping through her.
5
Eliesmore
The sword sank into the belly of the Dark Servant. It moved upward slowly as it ripped and tore through muscles
and ligaments. The dark influence over Eliesmore snapped like a sword broken in half. His eyes flew open as he continued to drive the sword upward. Green flames licked his blade as the jewels on the hilt glowed. The sword felt warm in his hands, but the Dark Servant still held his head, claws ripping the soft skin of his scalp. Gritting his teeth, Eliesmore roared as he pushed forward, using his leverage to stand. The Dark Servant threw back his head and howled in agony, his grip weakening even as he attempted to fight back. He thrashed, arms flailing, legs kicking out in vain to shake off Eliesmore’s hold.
Eliesmore felt as if there were a bubble inside him, that tickled the edges of his chest as if it would burst. Torrents of green light continued to leak around him as he yelled, letting his old fears, his new determination, and his uncanny power pour into the Dark Servant. He wanted to shout; he wanted to tell the Dark Servant he was the One, the answer to the cries of the weak and the helpless. He wanted to tell the Dark Servant he would save the world from pain, sorrow, and death. Yet, before his eyes, he watched the horned shadow morph. The wolf head disappeared, the obsidian eyes grew rounder as its face rippled away. Taunt muscles blacker than night appeared. The creature’s face grew flat, its mouth forming a gaping hole. Knife-like fingers appeared, yet instead of reaching for Eliesmore, the creature reached for its core where the Jeweled Sword was buried. As soon as its hands touched the blade, it exploded. Green light hurled the shadow of the former Changer outward, scattering its soul across the sacred chamber. Flesh, matter, bone and sharp shards of the Changer’s soul smacked into the stone with a burning hiss.
Eliesmore blinked as a putrid stench wafted across his nostrils, and the green light curled away. Holding the Jeweled Sword in one hand, he clapped his other hand across his nose and mouth. He watched in awe as the pieces of the soul caught the golden light and burst into flames, disintegrating the Changer into nothing but fine, black dust. The fire burned out in a few seconds, purifying the air. As Eliesmore turned, he realized he had killed his first Changer.
His hand fell from his mouth to his heart as the momentum from the fight dropped away. Wordlessly he stared, gasping with surprise. His legs shook with astonishment as he backed toward the basin and sat down, leaning his head against the bowl. He was surprised at how strong his body felt. The babbling of the fountain began, or continued; he was unsure whether the sound of water had been there all along. A haze of emerald light shone down upon him, and when he lifted the Jeweled Sword, it looked different. The jewels on the hilt seemed to come alive, glistening and sparkling as if the release of the Green Stone’s power influenced them. On the blade, words in Iaen began to appear, yet when he turned his blade, they disappeared again.
A pang struck his heart as he recalled his friends, the Horn, and the battle outside of the castle. He leaped to his feet as clarity pierced his heart. He did not need them anymore. They had completed the first quest. It was time for him to go. Sheathing the Jeweled Sword, he strode toward the door of the chamber. He had to find the Phutal, and even as he opened the door, a thought struck him, tugging at him with a persistent call, almost as strong as the call of the Iaen. It was time for him to return east. Before anything else happened, he had to go to Daygone.
A vague warning pounded against his heart as he left the magical chamber where the Green Stone was dissolved. He set off on a run through the castle.
6
Optimistic
Optimistic lay flat on his back in the long green grass. It waved in front of him as he hid from woísts, listening and waiting. Back inside the castle after Eliesmore entered the chamber, more Crons had come. He noticed some trying to enter the room, yet it seemed a spell kept the door shut and hurled them backward each time they touched the handle. Eventually, they overwhelmed Optimistic, and he had to run. It took a while before he found his way out of the castle, somewhere on the northern end, on the other side of the battle. He exited in time to see the Green Stone shining in the sky while he heard his friends cheering and shouting. They had won this battle, for now, although he was confused by the sound of them retreating. For a moment he considered going to them, yet his feet led him onward until he fell into the grass, awed by the beauty of the Green Stone as it rivaled the light of the sun. Tucking his hands behind his head, he watched the light, and he thought even the stars circled around it, worshipping its beauty.
Lifting a hand, Optimistic touched his face, finding it wet with tears. His cheeks hurt from the overwhelming joy he felt. At last, his quest was complete, he had done what his father, and his father’s father, and fathers before them set out to do. They had protected the Green Stone, passed from father to son, risking life and limb for this day. Placing his hand over his heart, Optimistic murmured words of thanks and admiration for what they had done. Taking a deep breath, he continued to stare upwards, proud of what he had the honor to be part of.
A distant rumble drew his attention, and he turned toward the direction of the dark castle. Shading his vision as his eyes shifted back and forth deciding what to do. It seemed no other choice lay before him; he was unsure where the Green Company and the other White Steeds would go. Back east, to the fortress seemed the logical decision, unless they intended to wipe out the Black Steeds here and now. No, Optimistic shook his head. They needed Eliesmore to lead the charge, to destroy the Changers once and for all.
The rumble came again. Optimistic crouched, picking up his bow. This time he turned his gaze north. Dark gray clouds hovered in the sky, rolling toward the castle like an army. Flashes of purple light erupted through them, self-contained in the storm. Optimistic scratched his neck as he stared at them, confusion marring his vision as he blinked. He rose halfway, knowing he needed to run before the storm overtook him.
A wave of thunder rolled across the prairie and stalks of grass waved in the pre-storm wind. Optimistic hastily tossed his bow in his back, standing above the yellow-green grass that rose to his waist. As he did, he saw a lone figure running toward him.
“Eliesmore!” Optimistic waved, giving away his hiding place as a current of warm relief swept over him. “Eliesmore!” he shouted again, relishing the ability to share his joy with his friend. Optimistic felt a grin split his face as Eliesmore jogged up to him.
“Optimistic,” Eliesmore slowed to a stop, his black hair standing on end as the breeze blew over his face. “When I couldn’t find you, I feared the worst. I’m glad to see you are safe.”
Optimistic reached out to embrace Eliesmore, pounding his back for good measure. “Of course I’m safe. We’re safe,” he emphasized, stepping back and throwing his arms wide. “You’ve done it, dissolved the Green Stone, what is there to fear?”
Eliesmore gave a short laugh as he lifted his face to the skies, his eyes widening as they took in the Green Stone. “There it hangs like a jewel,” he whispered.
Optimistic crossed his arms, his eyes following Eliesmore’s. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I can already see the effect it’s has on you,” he punched Eliesmore’s arm.
Eliesmore’s shoulders dropped as he spun to face Optimistic, a horror sweeping across his face as he clenched his jaw. “What do you mean?” He demanded.
Optimistic stepped back, surprised at Eliesmore’s reaction. Taking a breath, he let the joy settle in his heart as he eyed Eliesmore. “You are bigger and taller. Didn’t you notice, you’re at least five inches taller than me now, and…” he trailed off as he motioned to Eliesmore’s upper body. “What happened? What did you see while you were in the room?”
Eliesmore was not a scrawny Cron by all means. However, he’d been shorter and smaller. It seemed his body had expanded to make up for his new found powers. It was a startling transition, and one Optimistic imagined would take Eliesmore some time to get used to.
Eliesmore chewed his bottom lip, his eyes still on the sky. Optimistic felt as if he could see the thoughts turning in Eliesmore’s mind, selecting what to share and what to keep to himself. “Optimistic,” Eliesmore’s tone grew gentle again.
“I’m sorry, I have much to tell you. Releasing the power of the Green Stone came with some surprises, I wish I knew more about powers and the Changers.” He sighed. “I fought the Dark Servant; he is dead now. I know we must find the Phutal and destroy it, but, first I must go to Daygone.”
“I know.” Optimistic nodded. “Our friends retreated at the end of the battle, even though the promised army from the Western World came. I believe they will wait for you to lead them after all…”
“Optimistic,” Eliesmore interrupted. “Who are they?”
Optimistic followed Eliesmore’s hand as he pointed at the sky. While the two talked, the clouds of darkness had rolled over them. Although the light of the Green Stone shone clearly, sunlight had been blotted out. On a sea of misted gray clouds, Optimistic saw rain pouring down in a frenzy while lightning sparked across the clouds. The storm seemed to be trapped in the clouds as it rolled over them, bringing only darkness and wind. A sharp gust slapped Optimistic’s face as he narrowed his eyes. It took him a few minutes before he saw the “they” Eliesmore spoke of.
Marching above the clouds was a white army, their forms hidden in the mist, yet appearing as lightning flashed. The beings were covered in armor with helmets on their heads. Each carried a scythe upright in their left hand as they marched toward the castle of the Constel Heights. Purple lightning lit up the clouds and what Optimistic assumed was an army, he now realized were only a dozen beings. They looked as if they were sculpted from gray clay with sightless round eyes. The beings glided across the sky as if answering to a hidden master. Optimistic’s finger shook as he held it up, his mouth trembling in surprise as two words dropped from his lip. “Rain Warriors.”
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword Page 2