“You have come to save the west?”
“Yes,” Arldrine repeated, holding back questions. She knew she gazed at a Trespiral, the spirit of the tree, a creature she had long sought to awake. Songs of her people told the tale of the spirit of all living things, plants and animals alike.
“My people are captives, will you set them free?”
“Yes,” Arldrine bit her tongue, unsure of what the Trespiral meant. “I will do my best.”
The Trespiral bowed again.
“Where are your people?”
“Their shells are encased where the rivers meet. On the banks of the heights, they were taken by a powerful force. They stand timeless frozen in horror trapped by stone, unable to escape.”
Arldrine opened her mouth and closed it, unable to discern the riddle. “I will do my best,” she repeated.
The glimmer of the spirit of the tree bowed. “Your ride will be long in coming, sit in the light until your wounds heal.”
“Will you stay with me?” She asked tentatively.
“The time for sleep is yet to come soon I return to my everlasting bower. Stay until the beast sets forth from the mountain of fire. Here I shall remain, the eternal guardian of life.”
“What do they call you?” Arldrine whispered, widening her eyes as the vague glimmer of the spirit seemed to fade.
“When the tears of the Rulers of the West fall beneath my boughs and the One sets the Green Light in the sky, then my name shall be revealed.”
Arldrine bowed her head in acknowledgment, sensing the deeper prophecies hidden in words. “Thank you for your gift of healing,” she murmured.
“The gift came not from me; true power resides within the Rulers of the West. See?” The spirit pointed a silvery branch at the spot where Arldrine had let Zhane hold her and say goodbye. There a white flower had sprung up, overnight, and its white petals were blooming. Arldrine gaped in awe, her gaze flickering between the white flower and the spirit. No words escaped her mouth. Change was coming.
15
Eliesmore
Year 943. Present Day.
Eliesmore watched the pale streaks of dawn reach their rays toward the ever-shining Green Light. Rich gold and emerald green collided in a twisted dance of beauty, sending streaks of radiance across the sky. A smile touched Eliesmore’s lips as he watched the light, a tingle of hope reverted through his body as he lay among the tall grass of the prairie. He couldn’t sleep. His eyes wouldn’t close. His mind could not calm down. Each breath he took was in gratefulness for what he had accomplished, what his companions had helped him accomplish. He thought of them in brief flashes of gratitude, yet his mind remained riveted to the present. His ears could hear life stirring around him; the South World was waking up. There was a hush in the air, the voices of the animals of the land and air, and the grass. Invisible creatures of the meadow were coming out, he was sure of it, although he could not fully hear them. A shiver would filter to his ears; a whispered note, a brush against his skin, like silk. His thoughts turned back to his days of dancing with the Iaen in the hidden glades of the forests.
Thud. Thud. Thud. A distant thumping pulsed against his ear. He rose on an elbow, peering over the curved yellow-white grasses, narrowing his eyes as he searched for the source. Nothing but empty skies and meadows met his gaze. He cocked his head, listening once more, yet there was nothing. Shrugging, he stood, stretching his muscles. Noting the way his new body felt. He rolled his head and shoulders, relishing the rush of strength that buzzed through him.
“Aye!” Optimistic yawned, stretching his fists to the skies as he woke up. “What a beautiful dawn,” his eyes gazed at the sky in soft amazement. “Eliesmore, you were supposed to wake me for my watch, and now the night has passed.”
Eliesmore grinned sheepishly. “I can feel the spirit of this world; it is waking up. I’ve never felt something like this before, this enchantment. How can I sleep?”
Optimistic grinned back as he rose. “In that case, we can set off early, and find something to eat while we walk.”
Eliesmore stretched his taut muscles, feeling the rumble of hunger strike his belly. “We have to find something other than roots.” He referenced their meager findings the previous evening. "We need real food. Meat. Bacon, as Wekin would say.”
Optimistic chuckled as he shook his head in amusement. “Bacon.” He turned, staring up at the Green Light in the sky.
“Do you think we can find some dumb animals in the prairie?” Eliesmore swept his hand out, indicating the fields of grass that stretched on as far as the eye could see.
“Perhaps, we’ll just take one day at a time. I’ll make traps to lay out at night, to catch any of the small rodents of the prairie,” Optimistic suggested.
“Traps, with what?” Eliesmore raised a brow.
“I grabbed a bit of rope from the castle,” Optimistic pointed offhandedly in a western direction. “There is always something to catch in the wild lands.”
Eliesmore nodded at Optimistic’s good-natured opinion.
“What do you hear?” Optimistic whispered after a while.
“What? Why?”
“Listen, there’s nothing. There are no woísts. No Rakhai, it’s just us. It’s peaceful.”
Eliesmore glanced around, scratching his neck. He could hear a faint thud moving toward them, like the sounds he’d heard when he’d first woken. “I hear something,” he contradicted. “Something is coming our way.”
Optimistic paused, turning around to where look where Eliesmore pointed. “I see nothing.”
Eliesmore blinked. A blur of white moved toward them. He furrowed his brow, glancing from Optimistic back to the white blur. “I think it might be Flywinger. I asked him to meet us in the Constel Heights.”
They stood still, waiting in silence as the thudding continued. Eliesmore marveled at how he could hear every thump of each hoof print against the ground. Flywinger galloped toward them, shaking his head as he trotted to a stop. “Eliesmore. Optimistic,” he whinnied.
“Hello, Flywinger, good to see you again,” Eliesmore welcomed him while Optimistic stepped forward, rubbing Flywinger’s nose.
“Where are you going?” Flywinger bobbed his head, leaning in to Optimistic’s gentle caresses.
“Daygone,” Eliesmore admitted. “There is no need for you to come with us, the decision is yours.”
“You could come with us as far as the Jaded Sea,” Optimistic offered.
“I’d be glad to offer my services,” Flywinger tossed his mane as he turned to the side, allowing them to mount up.
“There are two of us now,” Optimistic cautioned as he swung up behind Eliesmore. “Flywinger, when you tire of carrying us let us down, we’ll walk for a time, and hunt.”
Eliesmore grunted in acknowledgment, noting Optimistic’s kindness.
Flywinger trotted forward through the wild lands, the hues of light dancing like scattered orbs. Eliesmore leaned into Flywinger’s stride, once again delighting in the wind across his face, blowing his hair straight back. Behind him he could hear Optimistic’s voice, twisting words into a lyrical melody as he sang under his breath.
Morning rolled away as they traveled, the light shimmering before them as Eliesmore listened. He heard the gentle roll of the wind, and he imagined voices threaded through its essence. The grass rustled in delight, calling the creatures of the meadow to frolic in relief. A hopeful hum covered the meadow, the words dancing just out of reach.
Flywinger slowed to a walk toward midday, and Optimistic tumbled off him. “Take a break,” he suggested. “Eliesmore and I must hunt.”
“Ah, yes,” Eliesmore felt a hollow prick in his belly. Food. He thought of Yamier building a fire and cooking tasty treats for them to slobber over. He felt a light touch as if a finger poked his shoulder and retracted before he could notice. He turned north, questioning where the rest of the Green Company was now.
Flywinger dropped his head into the grass, looping off the tops with hi
s rough pink tongue and square teeth.
Optimistic walked through the grass, from time to time squatting to examine a plant.
“What are you looking for?” Eliesmore called.
“Anything edible,” Optimistic chuckled. “I see various plants hidden in the grass. They have different leaves. Ah,” he held up a clump of dirt and weeds. “See, wild onions.”
“Is it safe?” Eliesmore arched his eyebrows as he meandered closer.
“We won’t know until we taste them, but onions have a strong aftertaste. I’ll keep them in reserve until we find something else.”
Eliesmore sniffed, catching the raw, pungent flavor of onion, the flavors leaked through the air, irritating his nostrils. He blinked moisture out of his eyes as his stomach growled again. At this point he would happily eat onions, roots, anything, just to stop the gnawing pain. His thoughts sought to betray him, tantalizing him with the faded memories of the home of Novor Tur-Woodberry and the delightful feast they’d eaten there. He groaned aloud as he recalled fresh pies with flaky crusts, dripping with meats and vegetables. Kneeling in the grass, he parted the thick stalks to discover what lay hidden closer to the ground. Optimistic continued to sing under his breath, the wind tossing the meaning of his words away from Eliesmore’s ears.
Eliesmore laughed to himself in-between the pain from his stomach, feeling quite unlike a hero, crawling in the mud in search of anything to eat. If this was how the wild animals lived, he preferred the fortress with the endless barrels of food from Oceantic. His thoughts roamed to his childhood and the garden he planted with his mother each year, digging in the soil, watching the roots spring out and dig deep, the cycle of life repeating birth, growth, abundance, death. The sharp pang of regret and loss stung him as he moved forward, bumping into a plant. He sat back on his heels, reaching out a finger to touch the green growth. It was a short, stubby plant with thick green leaves, wider than two fingers. The leaves sprang out, heart-shaped on either side of a firm stalk. Eliesmore wrapped a hand around the stalk and pulled back, surprised to find it soft and fleshy. He leaned closer, his eyes noticing the beads of moisture on the plant while a hint of sweetness touched his nose. He breathed in, “Optimistic, come look at this plant!”
Optimistic dropped the onions and ran over, shaking the dirt from his hands. He knelt beside Eliesmore and gave a sigh of relief. “Murthweeld!”
“Murthweeld?” Eliesmore repeated a question in his voice. “You mean the plant Wekin picked in the Sang Sizge Hills? Right before he got captured?”
“Yes,” Optimistic gave a vigorous nodded as he reached for the base of the plant. He plucked the entire steam with his fingers, causing an eruption of sticky sweetness to fill the air. “This is a plant that is eaten raw and known for giving strength to those who digest it.” He broke off a leaf and bit down, chewing slowly as a look of wonder crossed his face. “It’s not meat, but it’s delicious.”
Eliesmore plucked a leaf and took a tentative bite, relieved to escape from eating wild onions. The sweet tanginess filled his mouth with a hint of something bitter. He swallowed quickly, taking another bite as a wave of hunger swept over him.
“We should gather as much as we can,” Optimistic went on with his mouth full. “Here’s a small bag to keep them in, what can’t fit we can stuff in our cloaks.”
“Stuff in our cloaks,” Eliesmore chuckled.
They gathered and ate until Flywinger trotted up to them and a sharp pull brought Eliesmore to his feet. He turned east, touching a hand to his chest before dropping it, hoping Optimistic did not notice. Daygone. He had to go to Daygone. It seemed as if a thread in his heart connected him to the dreaded country; he had no choice, he had to go. The persistence was much like the call of the Iaen, but he straightened his shoulders.
“We’ll walk, Flywinger,” he said, “Until you are ready to run.”
As he moved across the meadows, he heard the first voice. It was faint yet distinct. The Green Stone has been dissolved. Pass it along. The Green Stone has been dissolved.
He jerked around, unable to keep the sudden smile from his face. “Optimistic? Do you hear it?”
“Hear what?” Optimistic grinned as the wind tousled his hair.
“A voice. The creatures are coming back, coming out of hiding. I think they are celebrating.” Even as he said the words, he knew it was true, and a bubble of joy burst through his heart as quickly as a water creature flying through the currents on its way home. “The world is healing.”
Optimistic nodded, a softness crossing his face. “The Green Stone has been dissolved,” he echoed. “Eliesmore, you have a gift now, you have the power of the Green Stone which makes you more perspective. I wouldn’t be surprised if you can see further and hear better than I. I think you’re experiencing it already. Even now you seem to know exactly where we are going.”
Eliesmore nodded, scratching his neck. “You’re right, I suppose. It seems as if there is a map, a compass. Do you remember Yamier and Wekin talking about navigation? I never gave much thought to it before. Yet, its uncanny the way Idrithar and Zhane knew their way across the land. I think they had a natural way of knowing. Now I understand because, I can’t explain it, but I know where we’re going, and I know how to get there.”
Optimistic’s face tensed at the mention of their destination. “It is time,” his voice was quiet yet full of fire. “It is time for the Dark One to pay for what he has done.”
16
Sarhorr
Year 797 (146 years ago). Daygone.
Shalidir’s eyes widened as she took in his form. Taking a step back she reached behind her, searching for something to hold onto. When her hand came up, he almost did not react in time. A fierce determination covered her face as she held up green flames, threatening him.
“What are you going to do?” He roared at her, his true form causing his voice to become deep. “You cannot kill me. No one can. Is this why you have come? To attempt to destroy me? You disappoint me, Shalidir.”
Her lips, pressed tightly together, quivered. Her eyes continued to bore into his, taking in the details of his massive form. He took a step forward. “Don’t come near me!” she ordered through clenched teeth.
He paused, studying the muscles of her face as they contorted. Ah. So she feared him and was unwilling to show it. He took another step toward her, taunting her with his dominance before he allowed himself to change, sweeping his shadow away as if it never existed. “Choose.” He prompted as his face became beautiful again. “Are you for me or against me?”
In response, she hurled the ball of fire. It moved toward him as if in slow motion, twirling through the air, flames leaping out of it like fingers, rushing toward his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening his mouth he exhaled, sucking the life out of the air, drinking in the fire as if it were water. His body shivered in pleasure, and he rolled his shoulders back, drinking in the first taste of her power. It was nothing more than a hint, useless to him, yet it gave him a sense of her power, and as he swallowed, he recognized it. Mind control ran in the family. The Queen of the Green People had persuasive powers to align those who opposed her. He’d seen her use her powers on others with nothing but the blink of an eye or the flick of a wrist. It was a power he’d desired, and while eating her heart was the first step, he’d found the true power lay in her bones, hence, the Horn of Shilmi. Now, tasting the familiar deception of mind control, he opened his eyes, moving closer to Shalidir who backed away from him. Her face flooded with confusion as her eyes darted across the chamber, seeking escape. She could run to the tower, spread her wings and fly away, yet for some reason, she stayed.
“I cannot choose, you have given me no choice,” she clenched her jaw unable to stop her voice from quavering.
He waited, searching for further signs of mind control. The way she held her face, up and back, while her shoulders were straight, told him she was hiding something from him. Soon she would cry, letting the tears fall, bemoaning how
he ruined her life. Inwardly he sighed in frustration, thinking of a way to get rid of her.
“You asked me why I returned, of course, I had to come,” the first tear fell, “to see if what they said about you is true. You deny nothing. You stand before me, openly displaying your true identity, and you ask me to choose? If I choose our child and walk away, you will not let me go. You know this.”
“I will,” he countered, crossing his arms. “Take the child and leave. Now!”
“No, there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from you and your work. You always get what you want, lest a greater power stops you. How can I escape from you? Everywhere I look, I see your handiwork. My parents. My daughter. What has happened is because of you. Even if I could wield such power, what more can I do than stand in your shadow? I thought we might be equals; I thought we might pursue power and rule together, I thought you were the one my soul called out for. I thought there was a reason my steps led me directly to you. Every time I leave the forests of my people, every time I seek, I find you. I see your shadow behind every tree, I hear your voice in my thoughts, in my dreams. You have passed your corruption on to me; I have no choice but to follow you into darkness.”
“Are you done fighting me?” he dropped the tone of his voice as tears slide down her face. She sought comfort after her open confession; it would only be appropriate to give her what she wanted, and take his pleasure.
“I am angry with you,” she lifted her hands to cover her face, hunching her shoulders. “You have made your stance clear. If I fight, I lose. There is not a way for me to win.”
He crossed the distance, forcing his sneer of mockery to stay hidden. Lifting her hands from her face, he tilted her chin upward, watching the power scented tears drop onto the stone floor like an offering. “There is a way for you to win,” he held her face even though she attempted to pull away. “If you are on my side, you will win. I have foreseen it. We take the Green Stone. We destroy my brother and sister. We win.”
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword Page 6