“I am Eliesmore,” Eliesmore went on, confirming their suspicions. “A few days ago, the Green Company reached the Constel Heights and dissolved the Green Stone. Now we travel east to destroy the Changers once and for all. We have come to restore the world to the White Steeds, and bring balance to the powers of light and dark.”
The words flowing from his mouth almost surprised him. They were firm, decisive, yet calm and persuading. Instead of identifying himself as the hero, he included all the White Steeds, summing up their great feats in a few words.
“Are you the One?” the female spoke first.
Eliesmore met her gaze, noting her upturned nose and her eyes overflowing with tears. “Yes.”
A profound silence swept over the prairie, the wind danced between, fluttering their hair and nipping at their cheeks, encouraging them to go on. Eliesmore felt calm, patient as he let the pair regain their tongues, his eyes wistfully falling to the body of the lion. It was a female. She had been a grand, beautiful beast when she lived. Her death was a shame.
“I am Skip,” the female announced as she stood, sticking her chin out as if she were embarrassed for crying. “This is my brother, Bruthen.”
“I am Léthin the Optimistic, Keeper of the Green Stone. Call me Optimistic,” Optimistic stepped forward, his bow on his back once again. “Tell us, who attacked you?”
Skip bit her lip and dropped her head. It was then Eliesmore noticed the tattered clothing the pair wore.
“The Traders,” Bruthen’s voice sounded hollow, his eyes stared past Eliesmore, unseeing, caught in a dark vision. “They captured us…but when they found the lion’s den, and we tried to escape and…” he shrugged helplessly, pointing first at the dead male by the lion and then back into the cave. “You can see what happened.”
“Don’t talk about it,” Skip snapped, fear etching across her dirty face.
As she turned toward her brother, Eliesmore saw the back of her shirt, sliced from whip marks, dried blood marring the edges while angry red welts flashed as she moved.
“You have seen much darkness I wager,” Optimistic broke the awkwardness of the moment. “Come with us. We are returning to the fortress of the White Steeds in the east; you will be safe there for a time.”
“Do you have food?” Bruthen wavered and, clutching his side, sat down in the grass.
“Yes,” Optimistic rushed forward. “And we should see about your wound.”
“Tis nothing,” Bruthen grunted.
“Why did they kill it?” Eliesmore demanded, wondering why he felt discomfort regarding the death of the lion.
Skip gestured toward it with her knife. “They wanted to eat it and I think she was protecting something in the cave.”
Before Eliesmore could say more, a low whimper echoed across the prairie. In unison, the four turned back to the mound.
Eliesmore parted the grass, peering into the cave, ready to snatch up his sword and fight if need be. He saw a black boot and the dead body of the second Trader, another Black Steed. Beyond the dead body, he saw a flash of golden-yellow. Eyes like liquid gold stared back at him tugging on his heartstrings. He felt something within him give way and striding forward he reached for the creature. A lion cub crouched on its hindquarters, its mouth open in a howl. “Maaaamaaaaaa,” it wailed.
Eliesmore picked it up, sharing the baby lion’s sorrow as it wept for its dead mother. The creature’s head snuggled against his neck. One hand ran across the lion cub’s back, hushing it as he turned toward Optimistic, Skip, and Bruthen. A hiss rose in his mouth at the brutality of the Black Steeds. The lioness was innocent, after all. She was only protecting her cub.
Eliesmore nodded toward Optimistic. “Call Flywinger. Let’s be away from here.”
19
Arldrine
Arldrine left the tree three days later, bounding through the Cascade Mountains as if following a hidden path. White flowers. Rulers of the West. The Dark Three. Her head spun with thoughts as she ran, stopping only to rest and hide for as long as she dared. Something had changed within her during her time spent with the nameless tree, the beacon of hope for weary travelers lost in the bitter cold mounts. She could sense a change in her vision, and out of her peripherals she saw a streak of white light, leading onward. Once she paused to stare at it, yet the light disappeared as if direct contact would hide it from view. Unable to discern the origin of its existence, she followed, questioning where it would lead her, assuming it was from the tree.
Time flew by in a frantic rush as she gained the Green World and began her descent from the mountains. There was a moment of pure intoxicating freedom where her heart ceased pumping with a frantic madness, and she stood on a ledge, head up, arms thrown back, breathing in the pure mountain air. Crisp hints of autumn dashed through the air even though she’d already come through the brutal cold of the mountain. She took gasping breaths, her eyes tearing up from the wind. When her vision cleared, she saw stretching before her, the golden white sands of an endless desert and a mass of darkness marching across it. The hope she’d felt plummeted as she grasped the intent of the Black Steeds. They were on their way to stop Eliesmore, and although she could not begin to assume the full strength of the army that marched across the desert, she could tell they were a mighty force to reckon with. Her friends would not escape alive, even if she fled with all speed to catch up with them.
A white glimmer blinked at her, like a hand appearing in the air, coaxing her to continue her journey. Reluctantly, she turned from the beauty of the mountains, and as she did her eyes were drawn westward. A sudden pang hit her as she recalled an earlier conversation with Dathiem regarding mankind and Zhane’s warning about the Therian. For a moment her feet turned toward the lone mountain range in the west, an inquisitive beckoning in her heart. She desired to follow the hidden paths and find an army to help the White Steeds; she was ready to lead a force and strike back against the Black Steeds. Her mind was at war within her. Should she find what remained of the Green Company or search for help in the mountains? White light shattered the air as she turned west, and in accordance to its will she turned, finding her way down the ledges toward the desert, wishing she was better prepared.
A few days later she left the beauty of the Cascade Mountains and plodded through the thick sand, her feet sinking into the grit, slowing down her progress. She’d left her bow behind in the mountains since she’d run out of arrows. Besides, she could steal weapons from creatures she might come across.
“Arldrine!” A voice shouted her name in the distance, and she rose on her toes, glancing east and west to determine the source. “Arldrine!” it came again, this time from the north.
Dust rose before her, blowing grit and sand into her face. She bent over, coughing as she raised her cloak, protecting her face from the elements. “Who is it?” she called, her voice muffled.
A sandstorm whirled around her and collapsed as the owner of the voice trotted into view. Dumbfounded, Arldrine let her cloak drop. “Goldwind,” she whispered, stepping forward as her eyes lit up. In one bound she was by Goldwind’s side and threw her arms around the horse’s mane. “Goldwind, I thought we lost you in the Cave of Disappearance, what are you doing here?”
“We escaped and followed you here,” Goldwind nuzzled Arldrine’s shoulder.
“We?” Arldrine stepped back, stroking Goldwind’s neck as her eyes darted across the empty landscape of the desert. “Are you not alone?”
“Yes, now,” Goldwind went on cryptically. “I asked Eliesmore if I could seek you out. I did hear you had fallen, but I hoped you were not gone.”
“Thank you,” Arldrine breathed, hope rising within her. “Then they are alive and well?”
“When I left they were,” Goldwind bobbed her head up and down. “Flywinger went on to Castle Range, the others have fallen away.”
Detecting the sadness in Goldwind’s voice, Arldrine paused, moving closer to the beautiful beast. “What do you mean, fell away? Are they… dead?�
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“They changed sides,” Goldwind whispered. “They are Black Steeds now.”
Arldrine gasped as understanding cleared her vision. She blinked rapidly, a string of curses coming to mind yet laying unspoken on her tongue. “I am sorry to hear this. How many were in the Green Company when you left them?”
“Nine,” Goldwind counted.
“Do you think we can catch up with them?” Arldrine asked.
Goldwind turned back to the north. “I will do my best, but the Black Horse Lords are out there.”
“As are the woísts,” Arldrine confirmed. She put her arms around Goldwind’s neck, wrapping the horse in an embrace. “My friend, I am happy to see you again.”
Goldwind and Arldrine thundered across the desert, day after day, the golden spray of sand streaking out behind them like a message. A black blur was ever before them, appearing and disappearing on the horizon. Arldrine’s breath caught in her throat each time she saw them, knowing she’d signed up for a desperate mission which invoked death, wishing she could stand alongside the Green Company as they made their last stand. The nights were chilly and eerie with wild voices braying through the desert. Their passage was swift at night, shielded from the intense rays of the sun that scorched her head and hurt her eyes. Once she heard a gut-wrenching roar, and out of the night, blocking out the light of the moon, a great beast flew by. Arldrine stood, a hand resting on Goldwind’s head, asking herself why a dranagin from the mountain of fire saw fit to leave its hiding place and declare war on the world.
A few days later, she heard a silvery call. She could almost see it, weaving with the white light that led her way forward, waving at her as if the voice had wings, encouraging her to hurry. The potency swept over her, giving her a sudden inclination to run as fast as she could. “Do you feel it?” she called to Goldwind. “Something is calling us.” As abruptly as it had come, the desire melted away, leaving her bereft. “Wait. Goldwind. Stop.” She dismounted, standing in the sand. “Something is taking place,” a terror seized her, and she placed a hand on her heart. “I can feel it. There is a shift.”
“We have to go on,” Goldwind pranced in place.
“No,” Arldrine disagreed. “The call is not meant for us.” She fell silent, not understanding the way she felt. Pain began in her heart and drifted through her body, her feet felt numb, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. She could not say the exact moment when it happened, yet gradually she felt it as she lifted her face to the north-west. Time seemed to slow down as she watched the light cascade across the sky. Motes of light collided and burst, sending an explosion of colors, drifting like a rainbow, covering the northern skies. Tears filled her eyes as she blinked, her breath catching on the crest of a raging sob as emerald light flickered into existence. She stood in the waning light of the desert, watching the glory spurt across the sky.
A hand came up, covering her mouth as she gasped, observing the green radiance that shrouded the sky. There was a flash of gold and green as the new light took its place in the heaven, blotting out shadows and vague suspicions. She felt the joy in her heart like a crescendo as it crashed over her, an unspeakable joy too abundant to contain. Her legs shook, and she fell to her knees, her arms uplifted in wonder. Her heart felt as if it would explode. As if all the sadness, loneliness, the fighting, the struggle, the waiting, the hoping, the endless hope she and all other White Steeds held to had been realized. Their fight was not in vain; their struggle was not for nothing. There was a reason they were fighting back, and now her greatest hope had been confirmed. A laugh bubbled out of her mouth as she rocked back and forth, tears streaming from her eyes in a combination of laughing and crying. She rocked back and forth, holding herself in awe and disbelief. She’d always held strong, she’d always had faith the impossible could happen. Yet now it was happening, she found herself in blind amazement. A lump formed in her throat and her voice quavered with tears as she turned to Goldwind. “Look. He did it. The Green Stone is dissolved.”
20
Zhane
“Where are we going?” Wekin asked as he, Yamier, Zhane, and Idrithar picked their way through the woods.
“Werivment,” Idrithar called back, he was a few paces ahead of them, moving expertly as if following a hidden path. “The woísts will not follow us there; we will have time to plan our next course of action.”
“I thought we were going back to the fortress,” Yamier remarked.
“If you wanted to return to the fortress, you should have gone with the Mermis,” Idrithar told them. “They travel by air, a swift journey if you have the stomach for it.”
“What about Eliesmore?” Wekin put in. “We should go with him.”
“He is going to Daygone, a place none desire to go, unless you want to lose your life.”
Zhane shook his head, agreeing with Idrithar. He could use the brief reprieve in Werivment before they went to Daygone. Although he was anxious to use the sword of Crinte the Wise, the creatures of the deep had become scarce.
“Idrithar, what happened in the mountain of fire?” Wekin pipped up. “We saw you fall. We thought you were dead.”
“There is not much to tell,” Idrithar slowed down, allowing them to fall in line as his gentle voice weaved a tale of hope, scattering the reaching arms of sorrow. “When I fell the dranagin dived after me, belching fire and smoke, shielding the darkness. It caught me in its claws before I hit the bottom and tossed me into its lair.”
Zhane listened half-heartedly, frustrated with himself for not discussing the past events with Idrithar sooner. The battle distracted him, and he was still fuming over the loss of Dathiem. Again, he pictured his friend’s blood-soaked body, unable to believe the reality. It did not make sense that Dathiem should finally fall during the battle to dissolve the Green Stone. After all they had escaped in their tormented past only for him to be slain at the Constel Heights did not make sense. Blind rage crept into Zhane’s vision, and his heart pounded. He reached for the sword hilt, holding tightly to keep his anger under control. He wanted to lash out and strike again and again until his revenge was complete, and his fury sated. Gritting his teeth, he turned again to Idrithar’s brief tale of salvation.
“I don’t remember much after that; I must have been out for a while,” Idrithar went on, his bun bobbing as he spoke. “When I came to I was at the bottom of the mountain of fire, or at least on the same level as the dranagins.”
“What was it like?” Yamier interrupted with glowing eyes. “Was there treasure?”
An odd light came into Idrithar’s eyes. “It was breathtaking,” he began, before narrowing his eyes and glaring at Yamier and Wekin in turn. “Don’t get any ideas about sneaking back there. Dranagins are dangerous and live by the rule, ‘dranagins are for dranagins.’ They claim to be neutral in the ongoing strife between Black Steeds and White Steeds. They don’t care for the world and prefer to hide in their mountain of treasure. They would rather burn you than offer help.”
Yamier crossed his arms and frowned as Wekin persisted, his eyes bright. “But Idrithar, you escaped. You can’t lecture us on something you did yourself.”
Idrithar raised a hand in rebuke. “I had no choice,” he began. “I was bruised, sore, and exhausted. I knew I had to rejoin the company at some point, and well before Eliesmore reached the Constel Heights. A distraction was necessary, the Horn of Shilmi had to be rung.” He clenched a fist, determination streaking across his face.
Zhane blinked, for the first time seeing something else in Idrithar’s face. There was a quiet cunning just below the surface. Idrithar knew more than he was willing to share. “Your timing was impeccable,” Zhane added, letting go of his sword hilt. “What did you see as you flew over the mountains?”
“The woísts are spreading,” Idrithar wagged his head back and forth, his eyes drawn downward. “They are scattering to each corner of the west. If Eliesmore does not hurry to Daygone and complete his mission there, I fear it will be too late.”
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sp; “But we have the Green Stone,” Wekin objected. “Eliesmore dissolved it; he has ultimate power now. He will not fail.”
“No, he will not fail,” Idrithar confirmed. “It is what will happen to the rest of us, to the rest of the world. We have an army, yet the Mermis have taken then back to the fortress, back to hiding. They will not fight unless Eliesmore leads the way.”
“There is some truth in those words,” Zhane countered, forcing his grief aside once again. “We fight in vain if we do not have Eliesmore. How are we supposed to confront the Changers if he is not at the helm?”
“Indeed,” Idrithar lapsed off.
“It is my thinking,” Zhane explained, “for Eliesmore to reach Daygone and slay the Dark One who controls the woísts. With the death of the Dark One, they will return to their dark lair, the Holesmoles.”
Idrithar grunted noncommittally. “What you have described would be the best-case scenario. We have to prepare for the worst. If the woísts go rogue and do not listen to the call of their Master, we must be prepared to wipe the abomination from the face of our world.”
Wekin grabbed his sword hilt, his eyes taking on an odd glitter. “Like the Five Warriors. We have their weapons, and we have a great mission, just like them.”
“Yes,” Yamier agreed, punching Wekin’s shoulder. “We’ll be like the Five Warriors.”
Zhane said nothing as they continued following the stream through the woods, a thousand thoughts rushed through his mind. Was this how the Five Warriors felt as they marched into the unknown? “Idrithar?” He returned to his previous thought. “How did you get the dranagin to carry you to the Constel Heights? Surely they are not as neutral as you assume they are.”
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword Page 8