Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword

by Angela J. Ford

  7

  Eliesmore

  “Where do you think they are going?” Eliesmore ran his fingers through his hair as the Rain Warriors marched above them.

  “Perhaps they heard the Horn of Shilmi and are going to join the fight,” Optimistic shrugged, the tension in the air from the storm causing his blond hair to stand on end.

  Eliesmore glanced over, noting he had to tilt his head to look down at Optimistic. His body felt uncomfortable as if he’d grown a second skin and was trying to fit into it.

  “Should we go back and help them?” Optimistic suggested.

  “No,” Eliesmore shook his head. He could feel a rhythm in his head, a beat, calling him. “No,” he repeated. “We have to go to Daygone.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, if you are willing.”

  Optimistic’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “It would be an honor to join you, after all, I am the Keeper of the Green Stone.”

  A niggling crept up Eliesmore’s spine. He took a step forward, walking east with Optimistic beside him as he sorted his thoughts. “The Keeper of the Green Stone, what does that mean?”

  “As I’ve said before,” Optimistic waved his hands as he began explaining. “I come from a line of Treasure Hunters. Our mission has always been to protect the Green Stone until this day.” He pointed to the new light in the sky. “Now, I see my mission has changed. I must still protect the Green Stone; only, you hold the power of the Green Stone.”

  “So, you are one of my protectors now?” Eliesmore’s brows knitted together.

  “In a sense,” Optimistic frowned, pinching his chin. “It is difficult to explain. I am the Keeper of the Green Stone, the Protector. You, Eliesmore, you know where you are going, what you are doing, but there will be others who attempt to misuse the power. I must protect the power of the Green Stone from them.”

  Eliesmore quickened his pace, his arms swinging by his side as they walked across the prairie. The gray clouds had disappeared into the northwest, leaving only the gentle lights of the late afternoon. “I must admit, I need your thoughts, your guidance. There was a disturbing incident when I dissolved the Green Stone.” Eliesmore paused, sighing. “I don’t know how to explain what I felt and saw fully. What is done is done. Yet, I cannot help but sense there is more.” Dropping his eyes to the ground he fell silent, watching his footsteps. Again, he recalled the Truth Tellers rising from the basin and the dark words they spoke. Eliesmore was grateful Optimistic remained silent, waiting for him to go on.

  “How long have you known Ellagine, and the other Iaen,” he added the last part hastily, feeling his face grow warm.

  If Optimistic was confused by the question, he did not show it. “Six years, almost seven by now. I’ve always thought Ellagine is mysterious and beautiful, and my father spoke well of the Green People.”

  “Your father, he was the Keeper of the Green Stone?” Eliesmore asked cautiously.

  “Yes,” Optimistic nodded. “He brought it from the west years before I was born to hide it in the fortress of the White Steeds.”

  “And the Green Stone was mined from the Holesmoles and given to the Crons for safekeeping. By whom?”

  “Who mined it?” Optimistic pursed his lips. “It was hundreds of years ago. I imagine the records of the miners of that period have been lost.”

  “Yes, but who gave the stone to the Treasure Hunters? How did they know what it was?” Eliesmore pressed.

  “I don’t know,” Optimistic shrugged. “Eliesmore, this feels like an interrogation, what happened? Why are you concerned about the origins of the stone?”

  Eliesmore blew out his breath, deciding to confide in Optimistic. “It is not that I am concerned, simply confused. Before I dropped the stone into the fountain, three beings appeared, claiming they are the Truth Tellers.”

  Optimistic froze, his mouth forming an “o” as he stared at Eliesmore. “Truth Tellers you say?”

  Eliesmore motioned for Optimistic to keep walking. “Yes, they didn’t want the stone to be dissolved. But there was no time, I had to.”

  Optimistic moved slowly, head down as he considered Eliesmore’s words. “Truth Tellers only appear to Treasure Hunters. They give you the truth at a price. What truth did they give you?”

  “They said the world could only be saved for a time. Eventually the world will end.”

  “Everything ends,” Optimistic agreed. “It’s only a matter of time. Eliesmore, you should not carry any regrets regarding the stories the Truth Tellers told you. You are the One. You were born to dissolve the Green Stone and look,” he gestured first to the sky and then to the green meadow rolling before them. “Look, you have succeeded.”

  Eliesmore straightened his shoulders, Optimistic’s approval confirming his decision. “I do feel different though. Optimistic, it feels like there is something growing inside of me. Not physically though, it’s like there’s a part of my mind, or like I have an extra limb I don’t know how to use. When I was fighting the Dark Servant, it seemed to be there, waiting for me to use it but I didn’t… I don’t know how.”

  “Ah,” Optimistic murmured in sympathy.

  “I wish I had spoken more with Idrithar and Ellagine when I had the chance. Honestly, I don’t know how to use the power of the Green Stone.” Eliesmore felt foolish the moment the words left his mouth. He knew without a shadow of a doubt, he was the One. He felt strong, powerful even. With that knowledge he also realized the vastness of what he had to learn to complete his quests.

  “Perhaps you do have everything you need, you simply haven’t realized it yet,” Optimistic protested. “When we traveled, you spent hours learning from both Idrithar and Ellagine. They taught you the languages of the world and the power of words. Did you notice? When we fought in the Holesmoles, they used their words to activate their powers. You don’t need more instruction, you simply need to tap into what’s inside of you and release it.”

  “Oh.” Eliesmore grew quiet as Optimistic’s words penetrated.

  “Zhane taught you how to use the sword, you don’t need him to tell you how to hold your blade over and over again, it’s just practice. Idrithar, may he rest in peace, had full faith in you, as does Ellagine. They gave you everything you needed.”

  Eliesmore nodded. “I believe I’m beginning to understand. Thank you Optimistic,” he smiled.

  8

  Zhane

  The ground shook under Zhane’s feet as he ran. The sky turned dark, confirming Idrithar’s words as the army retreated. Most of them were airborne and Zhane spun around as they headed toward a clump of trees. The Black Steeds had disappeared into the fortress. While there were still a great number of woísts, they seemed to have broken off into smaller groups of only a dozen.

  A self-contained storm rolled over the top of the castle, freezing as it reached the highest tower. Zhane watched in awe as an armed warrior leaped down from the storm, forcing a ripple of purple lightning to split the sky. When the warrior’s massive feet struck, a violent tremor shook the ground. The warrior landed in a crouching position, as it uncurled from its defensive position, it grew. In a matter of seconds, it reached a height of twenty feet, holding its scythe upright.

  One by one the Rain Warriors descended, surrounding the castle, guarding it with stoic faces. Zhane faltered as he backed away, unable to tear his eyes from the stone guardians. Once the warriors were on land, the storm dissipated, leaving only the light of the Green Stone. For a moment, Zhane thought he saw a blur of white flashing in the direction of the desert and the mountains When he squinted to clarify his vision, he saw nothing more.

  “Zhane,” Idrithar urged.

  With a final glance back, Zhane hurried to join the retreating warriors. They fled across the lush meadow toward the river. Zhane assumed they headed to Werivment, the one place in the west it seemed the Black Steeds were too frightened to enter. Given, the aura of the thick woods surrounding the place where the seven rivers met was odd. A vague cloud of oppression hung over the area, giving
Zhane the feeling that he tread on sacred ground where he was not permitted to walk.

  By the time they reached the bank of a river, gentle wisps of golden light tinted with emerald jewels graced the skies. As the thick woods parted, Zhane strode out into the soft mud of the riverbank, feeling it squelch under his booted feet. Thick redwood branches surrounded the river. A temporary hiding place from the armies of the Black Steeds. Restless chatter from the White Steeds filled the air as they gathered. An Xctas alighted before Zhane, laying a red stained body on the ground. Ellagine and Glashar climbed off the bird’s back, and as it rose Zhane felt a pang strike his heart.

  Dathiem was dead. Clenching his fists Zhane walked forward, letting his fury rise. It seemed a game of exchange was being played with him. Idrithar fell. Arldrine was lost. Idrithar returned. Dathiem was killed. Who would be next? The bloodlust grew thick as his vision clouded, he needed to strike, to kill. His feet itched to return to the battlefield although it was forsaken. He wanted to rush into a melee of woísts and slay them all until he’d avenged Dathiem’s death. Spinning he gripped his blade and ran back through the woods, searching for something to murder.

  9

  Ellagine

  Glashar held on to Dathiem’s body, wailing inconsolably, tears and blood covered her body. Ellagine rubbed Glashar’s back, each sob striking her like a physical blow. Glashar would never be the same again.

  Ellagine shivered. Her thoughts drifting to Eliesmore as if thinking of him could remove her from the bitter aura of sorrow Glashar gave off. Her fingers twitched as she imagined what it would be like to lose Eliesmore. She could envision his green eyes smiling at her, as they always had, and his strong hand holding hers. Tears blurred her vision at the memory. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her mind, searching for him. Her gift to him, the Light of Shalidir, had been two-fold. While it was a light in the darkness, the stone in the middle would glow once he received the power of the Green Stone. The relic allowed her to track Eliesmore, for when she reached out with her mind, threads of his emotions filtered back to her. Even though she’d had to leave him at the Constel Heights, she knew he was well. Bits of joy floated back to her, he was happy, at peace, he had succeeded.

  “Ellagine? Glashar?” Indonesia’s question cut through her thoughts, snapping the thread of contact.

  Ellagine brushed tears from her eyes as she looked up at Indonesia, Sletaira, and Leaka. Ellagine felt herself relax at the sight of the three, they were the oldest White Steeds she knew, and they tended to take control of situations. They were dressed for battle, with their vibrant hair parted into three braids which hung loosely in the back, with white feathers mixed in. Their faces were painted with the symbol of the Watchers, the Light of Shalidir. One silver line ran from forehead to chin, depicting north and south. Another line ran across the bridge of their noses, under their eyes from ear to ear, pointing east and west.

  “You came,” Ellagine whispered. She had a sudden longing to stand up and be embraced, much like her mother did when she was young. An ache grew in her heart at the thought of her mother.

  “As planned,” Indonesia squatted in front of them, her dark eyes full of concern. “We heard about Dathiem. Glashar, are you ready? It is time for his final journey.”

  Glashar held a hand over her mouth as if trying to keep the sobs inside. She shook her head violently. When she opened her mouth to protest, a cry came out instead. “I can’t. I can’t go on.”

  Indonesia rested her hand on Glashar’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “We will help you.”

  Standing, Indonesia waved over four male Mermis. They lifted Dathiem’s body and carried him to a boat with white oars, one of the same boats the Green Company built in Shimla. Glashar walked forward, numb with grief as she climbed into the boat to arrange his body. She smoothed the wrinkles of his tunic and folded his hands over his chest. When she pulled his long braid over his right shoulder, she bent her head, holding the end of the braid tight in her hand, as if she wanted to cut it off. Finally, she lay it on his shoulder and bent over him, touching her lips to his. “Wake up.” She whispered. “Wake up.”

  Evening shadows covered the sky as they gathered by the river bank to lay Dathiem to rest. Glashar climbed out of the boat and knelt in the mud by the riverbank as the Mermis pushed Dathiem into the current. Visra perched in the treetops with the Xctas while the Silver Herd of winged horses stood among the trees. The Mermis joined Ellagine, Glashar, Idrithar, Zhane, Yamier, and Wekin by the shore. Bowing their heads, the company began to sing a blessing for the dead. Words twisted into a mournful lament, speaking of sorrow, pain, and hope for a better future.

  Ellagine did not bend her head. She watched the boat as the waves carried it west, toward the current where the seven rivers met. A vague feeling of discomfort came over her as she realized the boat moved in the wrong direction. She’d always assumed the rivers flowed east, for the route to the Beyond, the Pillars of Creation lay eastward. Her brow furrowed in confusion, perhaps she was concerned about nothing.

  As the song ended, a silence swept over the company. Placing hands over hearts, with eyes closed, they wished Dathiem peace as he traveled to his final resting place. Tears streamed down Glashar’s face. She bit her lip, holding back sobs. Ellagine withdrew her eyes from Glashar’s, forcing the guilt away. She had begged Glashar to use all her power to save Eliesmore. The world needed Eliesmore more than it needed Dathiem. In the end, Glashar needed her lost powers to save her love. Shuddering, Ellagine returned her gaze to the boat. As she watched, there was a flash of gold and the boat vanished.

  Ellagine gave an inward gasp, shifting her gaze toward the company, yet it seemed none had seen the strange occurrence in the water. Her discomfort grew. Perhaps it was only the way they buried their dead; she was not used to the ways of the mortals.

  The Mermis and Xctas began to leave, a silent order swept across the army as they became airborne, a few at a time. Ellagine felt the pull, the tug; it was time to return to Shimla. Time to return home. A cold shudder swept over her as she glanced again at Glashar, knowing a price would be demanded. What was asked of her, she must do. Ellagine considered whether she should tell Glashar what she knew even though it frightened her.

  As she thought of home, the song the words sang became clear. One voice repeated the words which had danced in her subconscious ever since she was born.

  Long may you live

  Long may you prosper

  Her earlier memories were those words; she could almost see them being written in blood-black ink. There were seven verses; the words long may you live, long may you prosper, weaving through them. While the meaning of the words was unclear, she knew the song was her destiny, the revelation of the words would reveal her fate. The tug of home came again. She turned her head and her eyes met Idrithar’s. He was watching her, and his eyes were cold.

  10

  Idrithar

  Idrithar splashed water on his face and ran it through his dirty blond hair, twisting his longish locks back into a bun on top of his head. A somber mood hummed in the air as night took over. The loss of Dathiem was a blow. It would take time for the company to recover even though the Green Stone was dissolved. Idrithar eyed the green light as he shook water off his arms and reached for his shirt to cover his bare chest. Winter winds would soon set in, it was best to leave the Constel Heights as soon as possible before the armies of woísts found them. Briefly, Idrithar considered how cruel it had been for him to leave the Green Company in the mountain of fire. It had been for the greater good. He snapped his fingers impatiently as he glared at his hands. He hoped time would bring his powers back, yet he must accustom himself to the truth. The Rakhai had stolen his power.

  “Idrithar.”

  He froze. Indonesia. Standing tall he pivoted to face her, shrugging on his tunic. Her features stood out in the night, midnight blue hair, long bare legs and the delicate wings fluttering on her feet. A curved knife hung from her belt. It was almost the
length from elbow to wrist, shorter than a sword, yet longer than a traditional knife.

  “Indonesia,” he let his voice become warm, his eyes growing gentle as he studied her.

  She took a step toward him as if she wanted to embrace him.

  “Why are you here?” he buttoned his tunic slowly, watching her eyes flicker to his nimble fingers.

  “You called,” she breathed as she studied him, her eyes roving over his body. “As I have told you: when you call, I will come.”

  He pursed his lips into a thin line, stopping just short of frowning at her. “I used the Horn of Shilmi to call the army, it was not meant for you specifically.”

  She crossed her arms, taking a step back in defense. “I came to bring the gifts of our Father; may he rest in peace.” Indonesia bowed her head, hiding her expression for a moment. “I also came to tell the army they must return to the fortress. We will wait for Eliesmore there; we cannot attack without him.”

  Idrithar tilted his head, letting her see his displeasure. “You are taking the army back east?” His nostrils flared. “You know the west lands are covered with woísts.”