“You are afraid of learning the Great-Black-Evil. You are frightened of becoming like the Monrages. The Rakhai,” the male noted Eliesmore’s guarded expression. “The book contains many things. Listen well to the words I say. If you desire to defeat my sister, you will need my wisdom and strategy.”
“I do not need anything from you, except your surrender and your death.”
“You are naïve and foolish. You would do well to learn from me. Listen to my words, for if you do not, life shall be forfeit.”
“Your words do not frighten me.”
“They should.” The male paused, a light coming to his eyes. He held up a finger as his gaze swept across the room. “Words only mean so much to you. You are not impressed with my words, my thoughts. Let me ask, what do you know of the histories of the Four Worlds? What do you know of your own history? Consider the past; its relevance has everything to do with the future. I wonder. Before you set out to dissolve the Green Stone and gain the power of creation, did you study knowledge? Do you understand the lore of the Four World? Do you understand the effects of power?” The male began to pace. “Ah, your expression tells me you wonder where I am going with this line of questioning. But I do not want answers from you. I desire to see your reactions as you realize how little you know. You had mentors to teach you, but what did they do other than forsake you? Why are you here, alone? Where are your protectors?”
Eliesmore gave a strangled cry at the meaning of the words. He felt like a knife ran over his skin, poking and pricking, causing no harm, only irritation.
“Tell me,” the male went on. “I have a question I desire to know the answer to. Do you know who Shalidir is?”
Eliesmore paused, a hand involuntarily coming up to wrap around the Light of Shalidir as if it were his shield against the onslaught of words. “She built the fountain where the Green Stone was dissolved.”
The male flared his nostrils in contempt. “She did much more than that. Nay. Shalidir was a symbol, an old symbol of the Green People from the elder days when the world was young. You have seen it before for you carry a token, and the symbol is on your sword. A green stone within a circle with four points that signify the Four Worlds, north, south, east and west. The symbol was reverend for a time and taken up by the Watchers in the Western and Eastern Worlds. They are the ones who look out for this world and the rise of the immortals. Immortals such as myself. Immortals such as the Green People.” He faced Eliesmore, his red eyes glowing. “And then something happened.” He gave a cruel smile. “Shalidir was born, incarnate in the flesh. Building the fountain where the Green Stone was dissolved was only one of her many achievements.”
“She would stand before you and curse your methods,” Eliesmore shouted. His resolve began to fade away, his confidence failing. For the first time since dissolving the Green Stone, he felt insignificant, as if his accomplishments no longer mattered in light of the nine-hundred-year-old being who stood before him, issuing a challenge and laughing at him. “I will not listen to you,” Eliesmore went on, his tone dropping. He spoke quickly, to keep his emotions in check. “Draw your weapon, let us duel.”
The male sighed in disappointment, shaking his head as he held out an arm, pointing at one of the stone statues with wings on her back. “Perhaps now you will listen to me.” He turned to address the statue. “Shalidir. Come forth.”
Eliesmore gaped in horror as the stones crumbled away, revealing the form of a tall, beautiful Green Lady. Dropping her hands from her face, she lifted her head, her pale eyes seeking Eliesmore’s as she stretched her wings. They fluttered behind her for a moment, reminding him of Visra’s wings. “Are you the One?” she stepped down from her pedestal, holding her silver skirts in her hands. “Have you come to save us? To save the world?”
Shalidir, if, indeed, that was who she was, dispelled a regal aura. Her eyes were deep with wisdom and sorrow. Her silvery hair stood out around her shoulders. She was the most beautiful Green Person Eliesmore had even seen, and he swallowed hard. A strong desire to save and protect her overwhelmed him.
“My lady,” he bowed his head, stricken as he was reminded of the vision he’d had in the Cave of Disappearance. She was the replica of the Green Lady who had asked him to save the world before she was consumed by darkness. Her words drifted to his memory. I damned myself for you. Save them. Could it be true? Was Shalidir alive after all those years? “I have come to save the world from the Changers.”
“Please,” she began, but the male was faster. He snatched her in his arms, a knife glinting in his fist as he held it over her neck, stroking the fragile lines of her throat.
“Eliesmore,” the male purred. “Now will you listen to my words? Listen to my wisdom and save the life of Shalidir. If you fight me, she shall die.”
Eliesmore froze.
50
Eliesmore
“Put your sword away,” the male went on. “Walk to the altar. Read the book.”
“If I read, will you let her go?” Eliesmore hesitated, a hand outstretched, warding off the blows that might come.
“Disobey me and this knife will sink into her heart.”
“Please.” He heard himself say in a fog. “Please let me save her.”
The male pulled her tightly against his body, pressing the knife into her throat until she cried out in pain and a trickle of blood ran, staining the top of her silver grown.
Eliesmore retreated, sheathing his sword as he moved toward the basin and the book. His heart thudded in his chest as fear gripped him. He did not want to read the book. “What will you do with me? After I read the book?”
“We fight. To the death. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Will she go free?”
“Free. There is freedom in life; there is freedom in death. What you define as free determines her fate.”
Eliesmore bit his lip, searching for an answer, a way out. He glanced at Shalidir, and her eyes begged him, glancing from him to the book. She licked her lips as the knife inched closer to her neck, ready to inflict another wound.
Eliesmore walked to the book. It lay open to a map of the western side of the South World. Three places had been highlighted, Sidell, Castle Range, and the Holesmoles. Eliesmore gulped, glancing up at the male who held Shalidir.
“Read,” his voice ordered, and it was not the same calm voice. There was something deep and heinous in his tone. “Read!”
Eliesmore began to read, and as he read the words lifted themselves off the parchment, floating to his mind, imprinting themselves on his memory. The voices of the words whispered in circles around him before they penetrated, gripping his brain like hands, refusing to let go. The knowledge overwhelmed him as he read, unknowingly turning the pages, his eyes growing wide in horror as he read on. He read of power, the power of mortals, the power of immortals, and darker powers. He read of the power of the Phutal, its origin, and its last known location. He read of the power of the Green Stone, yet the words that struck him, the words that rang out made his strength fail. His hand trembled as he turned the page, realizing what a precautions predicament he’d placed himself in.
How long he was in the trance, he was unsure. Finally he flipped a page and saw a family tree. At the very bottom of the page, he saw his name.
Eliesmore. Son of Myran the Cron and Halender the Tider.
Above his name was his mother’s name.
Myran the Cron.
Beside it, to his dismay, was Ellagine’s name.
Ellagine, Lady of the Green People.
He blinked. Above it the names of two Green People.
Daughter of Luthín, Lady of the Green People and Tilyon the Green Person.
Luthín, Lady of the Green People. Daughter of Magdela the Monrage. Wife of Tilyon the Green Person.
Bile rose in Eliesmore’s throat as his eyes rose even further to read the names listed there.
Magdela the Monrage. Daughter of Shalidir, Lady of the Green People and Sarhorr the Changer.
&
nbsp; Shalidir, Lady of Green Person. Daughter of Queen Paleidir, Queen of the Green People and Legone the Swift.
Queen Paleidir, Queen of the Green People. Daughter of King Islider, King of the Green People and Queen Khalidir, Queen of the Green People. Wife of Legone the Swift.
As the list of names continued understanding dawned on him and he turned in horror to stare at the male and the Lady of the Green People. The male no longer held her captive, she stood by his side, and her expression was proud and arrogant.
“You!” He pointed at them, his eyes dropping to the book to confirm what he read there. “Sarhorr and Shalidir. It was you. All along!” His voice shook with rage, his heart thudded in his chest, and the room swam in his anger. Tears threatened to fall, yet he could not fall into a weeping child in front of the age-old enemies of his people.
He opened his hands, he opened his mouth, and a shriek choked out of his throat, wailing up in the form of green light and exploding out of him. He clenched his fists and screamed, his pent-up sorrow, fury, pain, and rage rolling into one inexplicable emotion. Blood pulsed through his veins as he felt himself change, becoming taller, stronger, more powerful. The knowledge of how to use the power of the Green Stone hit him full force as he walked forward. Green light poured out of his hands like a waterfall, and when he spoke, his voice was thick, layered with many voices. “You!” He snarled, pointing at Sarhorr and Shalidir who watched him as if observing an experiment. “You have damned this world with your deception, your two-faced betrayal, your double-dealing, and your lies. I damn you. I condemn you. I sentence you to death. No longer will you haunt the Four Worlds with your dark deeds.”
Sarhorr lifted his hands, palm up as he stepped forward, allowing his true form to rise. “Welcome, my son. You have unlocked your power.” He held out his hands, and a black pitchfork flew into them. Sarhorr lifted the pitchfork and hurled it at Eliesmore’s heart.
51
Eliesmore
Eliesmore’s rage mounted, and he exploded, hurling lightning bolts of green light at Sarhorr, blocking the blow from the pitchfork. As he flung them he saw Shalidir dive, her wings stretched out as she threw herself in front of Sarhorr. As the light struck her, green stairs appeared at her feet, floating as they stretched upward, out of the tower toward the heavens. Shalidir threw her arms around Sarhorr and dragged him toward the stairs, setting her foot on the wavering light without hesitation.
Eliesmore recoiled in surprise as the step held her weight and she ran, hand in hand with Sarhorr as they ascended. “No!” Eliesmore shouted, lifting his hands he hurled more lightning bolts and raced after them, taking the stairs two at a time as they climbed. Light danced around him, violet and blue, bolts of it ripping from him as his anger continued to burn. Drawing the Jeweled Sword, he raised it above his head, even as his heart swelled with emotion. “Where are you going?” He demanded. “Why do you run? Face me and fight!”
“No,” Sarhorr’s voice echoed back to him as they ascended into the stars. “We have no cause to fight. We are done.”
“You are our son,” Shalidir added. “Family does not betray family. We will not be responsible for your death.”
“Death,” Sarhorr laughed. “You will wish for death when this is over.”
Eliesmore watched their fleet feet as the staircase curved sharply and twined away. Pink clouds hovered overhead, and a fog descended. Unable to see he swallowed hard, reaching out through the mist, his hands grasping for substance. A fresh wave of raw pain poured over him as the words to the book flashed before his vision, like a nightmare he could not wake from. As much as he longed to deny it, he knew, without a doubt, the words in the book were true. There was one person, one immortal he knew to confirm the words.
“I am not your son!” He screamed at them, hearing the torn wail in his voice. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t true. Please don’t let the words be true. Please. Please. He was a Blended One. A mortal. A blend of two Purebloods. He wasn’t what they thought he was. His mother was a Cron. Perhaps she had been raised by the Green People, but his life did not come to this epic moment and fall apart at his feet. He had a quest; he had a task, he had to kill the Changers and their accomplices.
He chased them until his legs burned from climbing and it seemed his heart would explode out of his throat. His arms were sore, and his voice failed him as they reached the summit. The clouds did not allow him to see how far he’d climbed out of the depths. He came to a platform and found himself standing on the edge of the world. He saw the curves of the heavens as they sloped away, creating the planet the Four Worlds rested in. He gaped in astonishment at the devastating glory and beauty that surrounded him.
“Where are we?” he regretted the impulsive question as soon as if left his mouth.
“The edge of the Four Worlds,” Shalidir spoke. She stood above Sarhorr, her wings folded on her back. She tugged his arm, pulling him up the last step to stand with her.
“Why?” Eliesmore demanded.
Sarhorr snickered, his red eyes dancing as he glared at Eliesmore. “Do you know what the Green Stone is? The same kind of power that created the Changers. You have become the ultimate Changer. Don’t you see? What you have let yourself become in order to defeat us is power, power you will corrupt because you are a mortal and you have both good and evil in your heart. You have read the book. You know what I say is true.” Slowly he withdrew his hand from Shalidir’s and held up the hand with the ruby ring on it. Holding Eliesmore’s gaze, he slid the ring from his finger, held it out over the expanse and dropped it. “Only the power of the Green Stone allows us to leave this world.” He held up one hand, and Shalidir copied him. “Long may you live. Long may you prosper.” They spoke in unison.
Eliesmore stared in numb shock as Sarhorr took the last step and Shalidir wrapped her arms around his waist. They were still chanting when they leaped, smashing through the thin veil between the Four Worlds and outer space.
Eliesmore’s jaw dropped as he watched them spin, entwined in each other, drifting outward. A white flash snapped the atmosphere, and he saw the bodies of a Lady of the Green and a horned shadow disintegrate into dust. When he looked again, he saw two white souls falling, their hands raised in farewell. He squeezed his hands into fists, sank to his knees and roared.
52
Ellagine
Ellagine knelt on the flat gray rocks in front of the underground springs. White steam rose from the heat of those waters and she dropped a hand into a gentle current, the warmth a beacon to her heavy heart. Standing tall she stripped her lean body clean of her work clothes, ripping the silk in places as she undressed. When she finished, she kicked the shredded clothes to the side and pointed a finger at them. “Thiayar.”
A green flame ignited on her fingertips and hurled itself down to the bundle of cloth. It lifted them in a short-lived fury as it burned, erasing the years of her life in a symbolic gesture. She was no longer the same Green Person who set out with the Green Company. She was no longer the immortal who wished to unite the world of the mortals and immortals. It was over, and yet she did not understand why sorrow sat heavy on her heart. She felt as if someone had come, ripped away her dreams and left her broken and bloody in the jaws of the Holesmoles. Shivering against the riot of fearful thoughts she slid into the waters, falling on her back and letting the steam wash over her. Spreading her arms, she drew the water around her like a blanket as she sank beneath it depths, closing her eyes as the warmth washed over her face. Breath ceased to flow through her body as she lay there, sobs flowing through her body as she wept for what she knew not.
She was aware a great event had taken place in Daygone, and for brief moments she felt Eliesmore’s rage before the emptiness, the nothingness took over. It seemed as if the threads of his life force snapped, yet he had to have completed his mission, he had to still live and draw breath, or else the world would end. It was likely he knew the truth now, the truth about who she was, what she was. Yes, the blood of the mortals fl
owed through her, as did the blood of the Changers. She had no choice in the action of her ancestors. When her mother, Luthín, relayed the dark knowledge, Ellagine felt nothing. It was not her fault. She had no choice in the family she was born in, yet, as her mother said, there were still traces. When the Changers felt a violent emotion, she would feel it too. Her mother told her, even when Magdela the Monrage was banished, a deep sorrow struck her for the mother she’d never known. Their identity must be kept secret, and as atonement, they had to do everything in their power to stop the Changers and save the mortals. It was all they could do to combat the darkness that tainted their bloodline.
Yet, there was a phrase that would not leave Ellagine alone. It buzzed around her, begging her to understand it, to dissect its meaning. She did not understand. If she were supposed to save the mortals, why did this thought bother her? It would not affect the lives of the mortals, in truth, it would keep them safe through the end of the world. If that was truth why did she feel unsettled?
Invisible fingers of water slipped around her legs, parting them as fingers cleansed her from the filth of her journey, the dirt from her trek through the forest and her time spent in the west with the mortals. Refusing to surface just yet, she spread her arms and wiggled her fingers, encouraging the enchanted waters to wrap around her core and thread through the waves of her long hair, cleaning her from head to toe. She moved back and forth in its essence, encouraging the fingers to build her toward pleasure, arching her back as they moved around her, their pace quickening. The waters tugged her arms above her head, flipping her onto her stomach as they sank her beneath their warm. She allowed the fingers to explore her until she could take it no longer, kicking hard and swinging her arms she tore back to the surface, curling her legs into a sitting position as she moved upward, gasping for breath. Her chest heaved as the mist parted, dissipating as if it could hear her thoughts.
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword Page 20