“We?” her eyes flickered. “How can there be a ‘we’ if there is only you?”
“Who said there is only me?” He grinned, showing her his teeth before he gripped her in his arms. Her head dropped forward onto his chest as her breath grew shallow. He pulled away, noting the way her eyelashes fluttered. She lifted her pale green face to his, her lips inviting him in. For all her fury, she wanted him.
Letting go of her, he backed away. “Clean yourself up,” he snapped as he strode toward the curving staircase. Before she moved to follow him, he hurled his spell of immobility, chanting phrases as the spell enveloped her and she froze.
Folding his hands in front of him he calmly made his way down to the garden. Shalidir was devious, deceptive, and drawn to him; he would deal with her later. Right now, he was curious about his daughter. He made his way down to the gardens, his bare feet silent against the stone.
17
Eliesmore
Year 943. Present Day.
That night they tossed themselves down in the grass to sleep. “There’s no need to keep watch,” Eliesmore told Optimistic. “I can hear the peaceful lull of the land; there is nothing that will harm us.”
Optimistic did not disagree, yet he stayed watchful as the evening shadows grew long. “What can you hear?” Optimistic asked after a time, lying back, facing north, his eyes centered on the Green Light.
“I hear the creatures chirping in the grass. What are those things? They sing a song.”
“Crickets, perhaps. I haven’t heard the sound of crickets in a long time,” Optimistic’s voice was wistful.
“The grass stirs, there are smaller animals I think, walking through, sniffing, searching for food, or each other. I can’t be sure,” Eliesmore felt his lips turn upward. “I can almost hear their heartbeats; they are full of hope. No, they are whispering the words. Hope. The Green Stone. The One.” Eliesmore felt a sudden longing wail up in his throat, blocking off his words. He almost whimpered as the bubble in his heart threatened to explode. Hope. The Green Light had given the world hope. Perhaps the Truth Tellers were wrong. There was no curse associated with dissolving the Green Stone. The Creator had forsaken them, sending the One in his stead. The world would be saved. He would see it through.
He couldn’t tell when he closed his eyes, yet his consciousness never left him. A cool wind blew overhead, and he pulled his cloak tighter around himself as the ground turned cold. Wisps of grass tickled his nose until he sneezed before laughing at their playfulness. He listened for the peace of his heart to be disturbed by a footfall or intruder. There was nothing. He slept on until his consciousness faded into a dream or vision, a blend of faded reality. Opening his eyes, he saw a golden light shining in his face as the wind circled him, blowing his hair into his eyes and across his cheeks. Whirling around, he caught himself in astonishment as he saw the threads of the wind, a lady, dancing through the movement she created. Waving her arms, she ran and rolled, lifting herself over his head, catching the ends of his cloak and spinning him around. A ringing eruption of laughter bubbled through the air as the wind twirled into a frenzy. A blast of ice shook his core as she flung herself away, leaving nothing but the sound of laughter and her chilly aftermath.
The golden light turned brighter, pouring over Eliesmore like a cup overflowing with honeyed nectar. He stood in nothingness, watching as Glashar and Visra stepped out of the light. They were carrying something he did not recognize for he could not see it clearly. They whispered to each other in the Iaen language, their faces somber. Eliesmore furrowed his brow, for he could not recall a time when Glashar and Visra walked peaceably together in like-minded awareness. Concern grew in his heart, and he narrowed his eyes. When he blinked, he saw the Falidrain and Jesnidrain stood at the foot of a great forest. The trees were clothed in gold and silver with rainbow dew adorning their branches and leaves. A lustrous glitter cascaded across the forest, shimmering through the trees as if winged beings fluttered to and fro, just out of eyesight.
As he watched, Eliesmore heard a song, a melody he had been listening to for some time. The words curved into his ear like the whisper of a lover, the notes sweet, high and intense. A shiver of delight ran through his body at the uncanny words as a throbbing arose in him. He put a hand to his heart, finding it hard to breathe as a heady fragrance rushed over him. A pale green glow appeared from behind a tree as Ellagine stepped out of the wood. She looked more wild and beautiful than Eliesmore had ever seen her. Her long light locks were sleek and tame, shining with light as they trailed down her back. Jewels encased her ears as they stuck out from her head, curving away from her face. Her bright eyes seemed to swim in the light while the curves of her face were flushed with green. He could see her bright lips as she beckoned toward Glashar and Visra, yet her expression was unreadable. Her eyes appeared to be guarded and excited, an odd mix of emotion. Holding up one pale finger, she placed it on her lips. Her eyes darting across the forest entrance until they met Eliesmore’s. He jumped in surprise, his heart thumping in his chest, for he’d assumed he was an unseen observer. Pressing a finger to her lips, she tilted her head as if shaking it before fading into the forest, taking Glashar and Visra with her.
Eliesmore gasped as he was left alone, staring at the magnificent forest as the words to the song blew to his ear, buoyed onward by the wind. The dream faded, leaving a mask of emotion with it as it faded out of existence. “The Iaen!” he cried out before he could stop himself. Sitting up, Eliesmore found himself back in the meadows of Monoxie, with a vague sorrow weighing down his shoulders.
“Eliesmore?” Optimistic’s sleep smeared voice cut through the air. “What is it?”
“I saw,” Eliesmore struggled to remember as if a fog were covering his thoughts. “I dreamed about the Iaen. They are returning to their forests. They’ve gone.” He let the words drop away, suddenly feeling bereft.
“Ci. They said as much.”
Eliesmore saw Optimistic sit up, his head poking above the wild grass.
“Go back to sleep,” Eliesmore waved him away. “Tis nothing, I did not mean to wake you.”
“What else did your dream show you?” Optimistic asked instead.
Eliesmore could see him nibbling at a leaf of murthweeld. Reaching up, Eliesmore touched the light of Shalidir, rubbing it for comfort. “Does the wind have a spirit?” he asked as the needle of sorrow evaporated.
“A spirit?” Optimistic’s voice dipped in surprise. “Nay, tis a question the Ezincks would ask. They believe all things have a spirit, but the wind is air packed together. If there’s enough of it, I supposed it could be seen. Why do you ask?”
“In my dream, she was a lady. Is there a lady of the wind?”
“I see,” Optimistic grew quiet.
Eliesmore listened. The wind drifted over the grass, moving it back and forth like a child playing, this time it was warm instead of cold, friendly instead of hostile. A low hum emitted from the grass, the creatures of the night singing a nocturnal lullaby. He suddenly missed the Green Company.
“I think…” Optimistic picked up the last threads of their conversation, his voice blending with the music of the night. “I think the lady of the wind is not wind, but in the wind.”
Eliesmore scrunched up his nose in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“Hum… an example,” Optimistic paused, gathering his thoughts. “It’s like the Under Water World people. They aren’t made of water, yet they live in the water. In the same way, the lady of the wind lives in the wind, but she’s not made of wind herself.”
Eliesmore grunted. Optimistic’s explanation did not make much sense.
Optimistic laughed as if Eliesmore had spoken aloud. “I know it’s not clear; you have to expand your thinking. The way things appear is not always as they are. You’ll see.”
“I did not know I traveled with one of the Wise Ones,” Eliesmore teased. “You sound like Idrithar…” He trailed off. “May he rest in peace.”
“I
don’t think Idrithar is resting in peace,” Optimistic whispered. “There was the Horn… the Horn of Shimili, and unless I am mistaken, Idrithar carried that Horn.”
Eliesmore shuddered, remembering the way the horn seemed to control him, to drag him back from a fight to run outside, to help the White Steeds.
“Do you think, if Idrithar lives, perhaps Arldrine does too…” Optimistic mused to himself.
Eliesmore smiled at the thought. “I hope so Optimistic. I hope so.”
When Eliesmore woke next, light was cascading over the skies. He lay in the calm as colors enveloped him. Flipping over, he watched the grass mixed with flowers whose buds had not yet blossomed. “Grow,” Eliesmore whispered. He blew over the grass, listening to his words re-echo in hushed whispers across the grassland. Blades of grass like wheat hung curved over the ground, lifting their proud heads to the rays of sunlight. Crystal drops of morning dew flicked off them, scattering across Eliesmore’s face. He laughed under his breath, watching the grass move in waves. “Live,” he whispered to a flower, its buds shut tight, unwilling to open its face to the light of day. “The Green Stone has been dissolved. You can come out of hiding.”
A pulse, a beat sounded in the ground as he listened. He saw a ripple curve across the meadows like the body of a snake. As he watched, the grass bowed to him before standing upright, proud and sure. Yellow wildflowers threw open their buds, hurling petals into the air. The wind swept through, tossing the petals to and fro, playing with them as if it were in the midst of a grand party. Eliesmore caught his breath as he leaped to his feet, gaping in amazement. To the north, he saw a stream of bright blue bells open their eyes, tossing their petals in the sky as if worshipping. To the south, pink flowers twirled in the breeze, dancing on the edge of the wind as they sought the light.
“Optimistic! Flywinger!” Eliesmore called, his voice low. “Do you see this?”
Optimistic walked up beside Eliesmore, lifting his arms toward the Green Light. “They will come out and rejoice,” he repeated.
Flywinger walked up between them, and they rested their arms on his mane. Together they watched the sun rise into the sky, complimenting and deferring to the light of the Green Stone. Eliesmore watched, blinking as hope imbued his heart. A fierce determination welled up within him, and he glanced across Flywinger’s mane at Optimistic. As he did so, he heard a far off, pitiful cry, and then a whimper. He cocked his head as the sound faded and then came again.
“What’s wrong?” Optimistic asked.
“I hear a cry… listen,” Eliesmore put a hand to his ear.
The lonesome whine carried through the air toward their ears.
“It sounds like a creature,” Flywinger put it.
Optimistic straightened, concern on his face. “A hurt animal.”
“Shall we?” Eliesmore turned around.
“Yes,” Optimistic pulled an arrow from his quiver. Catching Eliesmore’s eye he added, “Just in case we run into trouble.”
Eliesmore nodded as they set off across the meadows toward the source of the sound.
18
Eliesmore
A thin whimper came again, coasting to their ears on the back of the friendly breeze. Bright flowers tossed themselves through the air in a snow of vibrant colors. Eliesmore brushed petals off his shoulders as they crept through the tall grass.
The sound changed like flavors of a meal, at first sweet and tasty before turning bitter. Eliesmore detected a cry of fear mixed with pain, and a sudden roar made him pause. “Did you hear that?” he glanced at Optimistic.
“It sounds like a beast,” Optimistic shrugged, his face tight.
A scream of terror slashed the air quickly captured by a deep roar of triumph. Panic squeezed Eliesmore’s heart, and he broke out in a run, barely aware of Optimistic by his side.
“Be careful,” Optimistic’s steady voice carried a warning. “We don’t know who or what is out here.”
Eliesmore let the words pass through his mind, unwilling to stop. He was the One. His quest was to save the people groups of the South World. It was his duty to respond to the wordless cry called for help.
“Over there,” Eliesmore pointed to a hill of wheat-colored grass that rose before them.
A deep roar tore through the air, bowing over the flowers of the field with the violence of it. A high pitched screamed echoed followed by a pleading wail. “No, no, please stop, leave us alone!”
The smack of flesh against flesh came followed by a soft groan.
“It’s charging,” a rough male voice shouted.
The roar sounded again followed by a scream and a quiet whimper.
Eliesmore dashed around the mound, drawing the Jeweled Sword and burst upon the scene. His immediate reaction was to take a step back as he eyes stared in horror at the sight that lay before him.
A cave of red-brown mud and wheat white grass had been created in the prairie. At the foot of the cave lay a tawny female lion. A spear stuck out of her side while blood leaked from various knife wounds across her pelt. Beside her lay a muscular Cron with blood leaking from multiple stab wounds. His armor was dark and his helmet black, leading Eliesmore to assume the male was a Black Steed.
Eliesmore’s eyes narrowed as he stared from the Cron to the dead lion, a sudden bitterness against the violence rising up. His fist clenched at who had committed such an atrocious act even though the common sense in his brain told him it was likely the lion had attacked whoever had killed it.
Harsh breathing pulled Eliesmore’s attention away from the dead lion and slain male. Turning his chin to confirm Optimistic was behind him, he moved toward the cave. “Come on, I think there’s something or someone in there.”
Optimistic lifted his bow once again, tip-toeing behind Eliesmore as they moved toward the dark entrance of the cave.
“Is he dead?” a high voice quavered from within the cave.
“I think so…I don’t want to touch him again,” a deeper voice answered, the response halting as if the owner was attempting to regain composure.
“Hello?” Optimistic called, his friendly tone chasing away the violence of the moment. “Do you need help?”
A muffled whimper came from within the cave of grass.
“Who’s there?” Eliesmore demanded.
“Eliesmore,” Optimistic put out a warning hand.
Eliesmore took a few more steps forward, the sour scent of recent death inflaming his nostrils. He peered into the cave, and furious dark eyes stared back at him. He took another step, and a figure moved almost faster than he could blink. The creature leaped out of the cave and landing in front of him, a knife glistening at his throat.
“We are not going back!”
Invisible words and a wad of spit spewed across Eliesmore’s face. “Aye,” he took a step back, indignant as he wiped the spittle off his face. “I’m not taking you anywhere!” His eyes fell on the creature who was a female. A long braid of chestnut hair snaked down her back to her waist; her hair was pulled back so tightly, her eyebrows had an unnatural curve upwards. A fierce scowl covered her grimy face while the hand holding the knife trembled.
“It’s okay,” Optimistic moved forward, pushing Eliesmore aside. “We heard screams. Are you hurt? Do you need help?”
“No! Leave us alone,” the female snapped. Her eyes darted from Eliesmore to Optimistic, determining which male to fix her knife on. Before she could choose, another creature sprung out of the cave, hurling a rain of dirt and rocks at them.
“Get away from her!” A male ran out of the cave, his long legs bare as he jumped over the dead lion. At the last moment one of his feet snagged on his fur. The male went down hard, his head pitching forward into the long grass.
“Get up get up get up,” the female whispered through clenched teeth, her eyes darting to the male with concern.
Eliesmore took advantage of the opportunity to back away from the deranged male and female.
“We’re not going back. You can’t make
us go back.”
“Look, we’re just passing through,” Optimistic interrupted as the male picked himself off the ground. “We heard fighting and came to assist. Were you attacked by Black Steeds?”
The female took rasping breaths as the male stumbled up beside her. Eliesmore saw their striking resemblance, the same dark eyes, wide forehead and high cheekbones. The male’s head was shaved, and they both had an odd scar on their foreheads. Their clothes hung off of them, and their faces were gaunt and thin.
Optimistic reached out a hand, dragging Eliesmore backward as the female’s expression changed. She glanced at the dead male, and a panicked look came over her face as her eyes darted back to the cave.
“Skip, it’s not them,” the male touched the female’s shoulder, grunting as he grabbed his side. He hunched over, hiding his weak side from them.
The female shot the male a dark look, “How do you know?”
Eliesmore paused as Optimistic let go of him. “We are travelers. White Steeds,” he pointed out.
“You’re White Steeds?” the female’s chin trembled as she examined Eliesmore and then Optimistic. “You are, aren’t you?” she gave a sigh of relief.
The male’s dark eyes bored into Eliesmore’s scrutinizing him from head to toe before his eyes rested on Eliesmore’s weapon. “What is that?” the male pointed with the hand that had been clinching his side. Muddied blood dripped off his fingertips.
Eliesmore toyed with indecision. Before the Green Stone was dissolved, he would have run in the other direction. Yet now, everything seemed different, was different. He felt ripples of hope in the air as he nodded and drew his sword, holding the blade across his palms, allowing the jeweled hilt to catch the light.
The female gasped, dropping to her knees as she stared at the Jeweled Sword. The male’s face turned pale, and he lifted his eyes to the sky, glancing first at the Green Stone and then back at the Jeweled Sword. “It is true,” he whispered, so low his voice was almost lost in the quiet murmur of the wind.
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword Page 7