“I struck a bargain,” Idrithar admitted. “Dranagins are talking animals; they are not above having a good conversation. The smaller one was easier to reason with. However, it’s doubtful the larger one will ever leave the mountain. It is as if the mountain grew around it.” Idrithar shuddered.
The company fell silent as they followed the barren trail alongside the stream. The forest grew thicker in name only, with bare branches and brambles interlocked, keeping them out of the heart of the wood and forcing them to trudge on the muddy bank. A gloom was cast over the sky as the trees blocked out the Green Light. Although the wood was silent, a hostility began to take over, a combination of hate, fear, and dread poisoning the air. The occasional call of a bird was silenced and the thrum of life cut off completely. The underbrush did not rustle with critters, and Zhane eyed the wood with suspicion. He reminded himself he had been here before, there was nothing to worry about, yet he had the distinct feeling something was following them. He tried to remember when they had last heard from the Rakhai and cursed inwardly. The joy and hope he’d felt when he first saw the Green Light was fading into discontentment. He was unsure whether it was the death that surprised him or the desire to be out there, fighting and saving then people groups.
“You’ve been here before?” Wekin squeaked some time later as the first hints of rushing water blew their way. The current in the stream they followed was picking up, the bright waters sparkling with hypnotic intensity as they traveled west toward Oceantic.
“Yes,” Idrithar answered, striding around boulders and other rocks that began to appear by the shore. “The water flows swiftly in two directions. The three lower rivers in the south reach Werivment and flow out to Oceantic. The two northern rivers and the two rivers that come from the east in Werivment flow out across the western South World to the Jaded Sea.”
“And because of the water, the plants grow unusually large and stay green all year long,” Zhane added, looking up for hints of greenery. There was nothing, something dark had pierced the heart of Werivment since he and Idrithar had last traveled there.
Yamier shivered. “What lives in Werivment, aside from the plants?”
“Nothing,” Idrithar shielded his eyes as he stood by the river bank, staring east. “It is an empty land, even when the Water World People pass by, they do so quickly.”
“Everything, even the water, seems to run away from Werivment,” Wekin noted in a surprising burst of awareness. “Why is that? What are they running from?”
“It is a mystery, like the Cave of Disappearance,” Zhane murmured.
“It is not an evil place like the Cave of Disappearance,” Idrithar countered.
Yamier and Wekin looked at each other, their eyebrows rising in disbelief at Idrithar’s words. Zhane could not blame them, the silence and hostility in the air was unnerving. Even though there was seemingly nothing to fear from Werivment, the spirit of the land seemed to desire for everyone to be driven away. It was as if a great life had been celebrated and was now diminished, all the while leaving only ghosts of sorrow to chase away those who dared step on sacred ground.
As the day drifted toward evening, the river banks began to widen, making room for the other seven rivers to commune at one great meeting spot. When Zhane glanced south, he could no longer see the southern bank that led back to the desert and eventually to a lone mountain range. There was nothing but shining water, spinning, twirling, dancing and leaping its way forward. White froth splashed up on the rough red mud of the bank which began to jut away into a small drop off. The mud gave way to rock and stone, multi-colored pebbles scattering underfoot, slowing down their progress.
Wekin perched on a flat gray boulder, yanking off his boots and tossing pebbles and gritty sand back onto the ground. Blends of cedar wood and aqua smote the air as Zhane breathed in, allowing the cool mist from the rushing water to touch his face. A longing awoke in his heart, strong and intense as he tread the sacred path. A desire to lift his hands almost overcame him as the light of the Green Stone touched his face. Emerald light cascaded down upon the water, blending with the vivid pinks and hazy orange of the sunset. He stood still and peered down the river. He imagined he could still see the boat they’d laid Dathiem to rest in, spinning and twirling westward down the current. He was gone, on to fairer lands, where his soul would travel to the Beyond. Stopping, Zhane lifted a hand to his heart and said a few words for his lost friend. Words flowed to his lips, a rhythm of loss, yet thoughts of hope peeked out as he watched the sunset.
A hand landed on his shoulder. “We make camp here.”
“Aye,” Zhane whispered. He turned to the woods. “I’ll scout the territory and ensure nothing followed us.”
Taking his two swords and the bow of Legone the Swift he turned to the thick bramble. A carpet of green grass sprung up beneath his feet, softening his tread. He glanced back toward the shore once more as Yamier and Wekin sat down, digging out the packs the Mermis had given them. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to be alone for a few moments. The insistent crashing of the waves blocked out sound, roaring in the distance as he crept away. He rounded a bend, keeping to the trees when a sudden snap jerked his head up. Quick as a flash he drew a blue tipped arrow and fitted it in the bow, holding it up as the creature that had been following them appeared.
21
Arldrine
They reached the Constel Heights the next day, Arldrine kept her gaze fixated on the Green Stone to keep her heart from breaking. She repeated words of hope to herself as they drew nearer, focused on staying optimistic, hoping the battlefield would not bring her grief. She smelled the rot of flesh and old blood before they crested the hill, the wind striking down the tang of it. She lifted her chin, forcing herself to remain strong as they reached the top of a grassy hill.
Below them a field sloped in a river of bodies. She could make out the mesh armor of woìsts with white tipped and blue tipped arrows sticking out of their bodies. She saw a great Xctas, its six-foot wings spread across a mound of bodies. Brown and white feathers covered the field and she could see where the ground was charred from fire. Grass had been flattened into submission under a great many feet. Swords, knives, and daggers were scattered across the open grave. Her eyes smarted as she stared, using her cloak to cover her nose against the putrid stench.
What caught her eyes were the massive stone statues that surrounded the castle. She could not quite count them all, yet they rose over twenty feet into the air, their white faces stoic yet detailed as if someone had spent years carving each line, each muscle of their face and froze it into place.
“Who are they?” Goldwind broke the frosted silence.
“Rain Warriors who guard the keep,” Arldrine croaked out, her eyes darting across the landscape. “It is apparent that whatever happened here, some came, some escaped, and some are trapped in the castle by these beings. They come with a storm, but I thought it was a myth.” She noted the way they held scythes in their hands, standing upright and staring straight ahead.
A white glimmer caught her eyes, traces of it vanishing toward the west. Her brow furrowed in concentration before her eyes scanned the battlefield one last time. “Goldwind, we ride west.”
Goldwind leaped onward, galloping hard across the plain toward Werivment. Arldrine leaned forward on Goldwind’s back, relishing the gentle wind on her face, even though it seemed the anticipation would rip her in half. She had to find those who remained and determine their next course of action. Although riding west seemed odd, considering Eliesmore should point his steps toward Daygone to seek and destroy the Phutal along with the Dark One. She was unsure why they were fleeing toward Werivment, and then she considered what might chase them. Although it seemed she was the lone survivor, racing across unending lands toward what she hoped might be a future.
The white light led her down into the forest until she came upon the shores of a silver river, a gentle current turning westward. Dismounting, she moved forward, watching the moo
n hang over the water while the golden light from the stars lit her path. A keen sorrow struck her heart as she walked beside the river, stooping to look at the tracks in the mud. “A great multitude stood here,” she whispered to Goldwind. “Look, their footprints point south, toward the river. They were watching something, I’m afraid…” her voice trailed off.
Goldwind said nothing, just listened.
Arldrine rose and walked down to the riverbed, placing a hand on her heart as she turned west. “They paid homage to the great who had fallen, and even the beasts of the sky joined.” She pointed to a smattering of footprints, hooves, and claws mixed with the booted footprints of the people groups. “We grow close,” she whispered and began to walk again.
The voice of the river followed as they continued their journey alongside the riverbank. Arldrine did not want to stop, but eventually, her worry and exhaustion gave way, and she slept under the light of the Green Stone, without fear. The ground was uneven along the riverbank as they traveled the next day. Arldrine was unwilling to ride least Goldwind slip, and they both end up in the river, dragged onward by the relentless current. A darkness hung in the air with a thickness Arldrine could sense yet could not see. A deep forbidding struck her, something was wrong, and she could not shake the feeling, even though it seemed she had come through the majority of death and devastation. The quietness irked at her, and she kept turning, expected unseen assailants to sneak up on her. There was a mugginess to the air, unlike the chill of the mountains or the cutting heat of the desert. Each time she thought she glimpsed what it was, it disappeared, and even the white glimmer had become vague, disappearing into the river. Unable to quash her discomfort, Arldrine crept forward, her dagger in hand as they continued toward the source of the voices of the water, where the seven rivers met.
She reached the source of the river just as the light of the failing sun clashed with the Green Light, sending hues of emerald dancing through the heavens. Her breath caught in the glory of it, a sight she did not think she could grow used to. The two lights in a sky were a sign of the times; change had begun in the South World even though she felt bereft. A bend appeared, and the river curved away. Arldrine put out a hand, cautioning Goldwind. “There’s something out there.” She moved away from the riverbank, stepping toward the carpet of green grass that grew by the trees. There was something sinister in the way the trees held up their bare branches, as if angry with the world, and sour against intruders that dare walk across their lands. Holding out a hand, she motioned for Goldwind to pause. If there were Black Steeds in the vicinity, she’d rather face them without Goldwind.
The figure she saw as she rounded the bend was not expected. She stumbled in surprise, her feet tripping over discarded tree branches. One snapped underfoot, a signal to her location. As the figure spun, he lifted a bow with a blue tipped arrow nocked in it, in warning. She paused, hands up, her eyes wide. Her nostrils flared as she opened her mouth, putting her hands in the air, palm up in surrender. “Zhane,” she called, her tongue tripped on his name in her haste. “It’s me.”
The bow lowered, although she could still see the arrow in it as he ran toward her, his tall frame covering the distance between them in a matter of moments. His deep brown eyes flashed in surprise and his jaw set as he moved toward her. She could see where he’d gotten thinner from the journey, there was a yellowing bruise on his head, and his tunic had been torn and cut in places.
“Are you a ghost?” he whispered in astonishment. “Are you a soul coming back to torment me?”
“No,” her heart raced as she shook her head. “Zhane. It is I. It truly is.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze, watching the way his dark eyes roamed over her face, checking her gait as she took a step toward him. “I swear, it is I.” She repeated, her heart pounding in a mix of relief he was alive, and another feeling, stronger than she’d ever known crept up.
“How?” his eyes dropping to her foot as he returned the arrow to its quiver, then, thinking better of it, slung it off his back and placed the bow and arrows on the ground, close to their feet.
She watched his quick movements, eyeing the way his body moved, graceful and strong. He took a deep breath as he stood straight, eyes glinting with expectation as he waited for her words.
“Zhane… I…” she began, yet the words got stuck in her throat. She gazed up at him, her breath coming fast as she studied the lines of his handsome face. Until now she hadn’t realized what she had been running toward. Now it was clear, the moment she’d left the tree, she’d been searching for him. He stood before her, alive, unharmed and she paused, wishing he could read her mind. How could she explain to him the way he made her feel? Taking another step toward him she held out her hand, outstretched toward his, unsure of why. He cocked his head, studying her, his eyes holding hers as he touched his palm to hers as if ensuring she was flesh and blood.
An electric snap reverberated through the air as their hands touched. She felt the muscles of her face jerk in response. Tilting her head, she gauged his reaction. His brown eyes flickered as his gaze locked onto their hands. Following his gaze, she saw a glow of white threads leaking out from where their skin touched. With a sharp cry of surprise, she snatched her hand away and shook her arm violently as if she had been burned. “What was that?” she gasped, staring from her hand to his.
“I don't know,” Zhane admitted, his eyes narrowing in surprise. “Did you feel it?” He studied her.
Her face grew warm as she flushed under his stare, her hands suddenly feeling clammy. “Yes, but, what does it mean?”
“Come here,” he beckoned with a finger, pulling her back toward him. “We should find out.”
She stepped toward him again, allowing the deep muskiness of his scent to pull her in. She tilted her face toward his, allowing him to see her vulnerability. As she stared into his eyes, hesitant, welcoming, and full of relief, she desired more. It was the emotion she could not put words to, the yearning that felt like a thread between them. There was a magnetic pull, and as she basked in the glow of his presence, her heartbeat quickening, she understood what it was. As Dathiem had said, loving was as easy as breathing once she stopped thinking about it.
She moved closer to Zhane with intention, her hands coming up to rest on his chest before she could stop herself. His head bent down toward hers, allowing her to see the question in his eyes. She saw the shadow of a beard crossing his jawline as she moved her hands up, marveling as his muscles tensed before relaxing under her caress. His hands came up around her waist, steering her hips closer to his. She felt a tongue of fire in her belly as she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck pulling his head toward her and leaning into the strength of his embrace. His eyes held hers as his head came closer, her gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth. Tilting her head at an angle, she touched her lips to his in gentle exploration.
The corners of his mouth pulled back in surprise before his arms tightened around her waist. She felt one of his hands drop lower to grasp the curves of her bottom. His lips parted, deepening the kiss as heat flowed between them. She tasted his passion as he devoured her and a drowning sensation almost overcame her as she held on, whisked away to the brink of pleasure. She opened her mouth, eager to taste him again as his hands came up, rubbing her back, caressing her hips as her mouth took hers. His heart thudded against hers, slowing down before speeding up into a rhythmic passion. She tilted her head back, allowing him to take her fully, gasping when he unexpectedly broke the kiss.
Opening her eyes in astonishment, she met his gaze. Although his mouth was closed his eyes smiled at her. “Look,” he whispered, turning his head. “Look at the magic we are creating.”
White lights surrounded them like the Iaens that lit the way for the travelers of the mountains in tales of old. They leaped and danced, uttering tiny shouts of joy as they celebrated their new life. Arldrine gasped, her hands loosening as she stepped back in awe. “How is this possible?” She whispered in wonder. “Di
d we do this? You and I?”
“I can’t explain it,” he gave a low chuckle, the lines of his face softening. “I think so… tell me, Arldrine, what happened in the mountains? Did you gain a power?”
“No,” she blinked, watching the white lights dance. “I thought you gained something…” Her mind flew back to the tree for brief seconds until Zhane’s arms came up, cupping her elbows as he drew her back toward him.
“Kiss me again,” he bade her, drawing her body against his chest.
Parting her lips she allowed herself to become lost in his warmth, while threads of passion burst from their skin on skin contact, white lights shattering across the blackness of the night.
22
Zhane
“We should return to the others,” Zhane announced at length as the moon rose over the water, casting a silvery hue across Werivment.
Arldrine rested her head on his chest; he could sense she wanted more from him. It was tempting, yet he wanted more than a quick tryst in the woods. He held her tightly all the same, thankful for the salvation of two of his close friends, even if one was left to the river.
“Who is left?” The joy evaporated from Arldrine’s face as worry creased her forehead. “I saw many concerning things on my way here.”
He sighed, kissing the top of her head before letting go. “There is much to tell you.”
“I saw the footprints on the shore; they faced south, southeast. Tell me.”
He pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders. “The grief is still too close,” he frowned. “It was Dathiem. During the battle of the Constel Heights. We sent his body down the river…” he trailed off, his eyes clouding over in sorrow.
“No,” Arldrine’s hand came up, gripping his wrist. “Not Dathiem.”
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword Page 9