“I can’t Eliesmore. Not when I look out and see you suffering. The light is fading, how can I rest easy?”
“I can’t speak about it. The hurt runs deep. I am cursed,” he fell silent and turned his face away.
Optimistic felt as if he were sliding down a mountain, his fingers grasping for something solid to hang on to and he came up with nothing every time. “Eliesmore. Don’t let the hurt stop you from hoping. We’ve come so far. Think of all you have accomplished.”
Eliesmore shrugged, adding nothing more. Optimistic opened his mouth to say more, but he could sense the wound pulsing and the fingers of darkness reaching out to crush the light. Reaching out he touched Eliesmore’s shoulder. “When you are ready, I am here.”
59
Eliesmore
Muffled chatter rose through the air, and Eliesmore heard the distinct sound of hammering. Snow fell in clumps about the group as they neared the fortress in mid-January. They were cold, hungry, sore, and, admittedly, Eliesmore knew nothing would be better than a hot meal, a warm bath, and clean clothes. The grime from the journey stuck to him like burrs.
Shouts echoed through the forest as Idrithar led the way, winding through the thick underbrush. Eliesmore glanced up and saw an Xctas fly ahead, giving a sharp cry as it called out, warning the others. His heart beat hard in anticipation as he heard the scurry of people and beasts. He wanted to call out to them, announcing it was only himself and his friends, those who fought, those who were willing to save the world. The words died on his tongue as he walked out into a clearing and a roar reached his ears.
The doors to the fortress stood wide open, and on every step were males, females, animals, horses, Mermis and Xctas. Their hands lifted as they cheered, and their mouths opened in shouts of celebration, praise and joy. Their salvation had come, hope had arrived, the White Steeds now had a fighting chance.
The roar rushed through Eliesmore’s ears, and his hands fell to his side as he stared, wonder and astonishment crossing his face. The world slowed down, and a warm glow of joy sneaked its way through his heart. The darkness faded, leaving nothing but light. He turned around to look at his companions. Optimistic clapped him on the shoulder, nodding in encouragement. Yamier and Wekin ran forward, hands in the air, their tongues babbling. Even Zhane and Idrithar grinned like fools.
Indonesia, Sletaira, and Leaka stood by the double doors, their faces stoic yet their eyes warm as they lifted their hands in welcome. Eliesmore walked forward in a daze as the celebration continued, and it seemed for a moment he stepped away from his physical self and saw the fortress, not as a building or a place to hide, but a home and a place to rejoice. The words to “Song” floated to his ears. “They will come out and rejoice for evil has been receded…”
The cheering continued as he walked up the broad steps, nodding and shaking hands, but when he entered the fortress, his jaw dropped. White Steeds lined the room, bursting at the seams. Mermis. Crons. Tiders. There were more on the stairs, their jolly faces beaming and eyes shining with tears of joy. White horses stood in the halls leading down to where the barrels came in. A few squirrels perched on their backs, taking a moment from gnawing at nuts to cheer. A few shrews, various birds and rabbits joined them, noses in the air, sniffing as they celebrated. Eliesmore noted Flywinger and he breathed with relief. Skip and Bruthen clapped their hands, nodding in excitement. They looked much better in clean clothes, and their bodies had rounded out.
The voices shouted and cheered until Eliesmore’s ears rang from the din and he was relieved when Leaka touched his arm, leading him down a hall to the bathing rooms.
When at last he fell back in a hot bath and scrubbed away the dirt and blood from his quest, he felt something like relief flood his soul, and the dark words from the book seem to fade, leaving nothing but peace. He put back his head and closed his eyes. But when he brought up his hand to touch the Light of Shalidir, he noticed, for the first time, it was gone.
Eliesmore dressed quickly, buttoning his white shirt and shrugging an emerald green tunic over it. He ranked through his memories, trying to recall the last time he’d held the Light of Shalidir. He knew he’d had it in Daygone, but after reading the book and dealing with the events there, he could not recall touching it. A cold stab went through him, and inky black fingers reached for his heart, ready to destroy his faith, threads reaching out to crush the light. Fingers trembling, he pushed the thoughts away as he buckled the Jeweled Sword around his waist. Exiting the chambers, he marched down the hall again, his feet sinking, with pleasure, into the new boots he wore.
“Eliesmore,” Yamier called, scurrying to catch up with him. Wekin was further down the hall, staring into a mirror and fixing his hair, tilting his head and grinning at himself. “We’re going up to the dining hall. There is a feast waiting for us.”
“Where is Optimistic?” Eliesmore glanced down the hall.
“Here,” Optimistic called from the stairs. “Waiting on you lazy lot, what took you so long? Haven’t you had a bath before?”
Wekin chuckled. “It’s been a year! I forgot how nice it is, and to think we can actually sit back with full bellies. I can’t wait.”
Eliesmore’s stomach rumbled in agreement and he sighed, appreciating Optimistic’s teasing words, attempting to allow lightness to enter his heart again. The dark and gloom had to fade, at least for tonight. This night they would celebrate all they had accomplished. “Yamier, Wekin,” Eliesmore glanced at the two as they walked up toward the dining hall. “I want you to meet Skip and Bruthen. You like sailing but, they know everything there is to know about the sea.”
Wekin put his nose in the air. “I doubt that. I am Wekin the Navigator. Wekin the Mapmaker. Wekin the Warrior. No one can teach me anything.”
Yamier stuck out his foot, tripping Wekin who fell flat on his face with a yell.
“Perhaps some humility would do you well,” Optimistic laughed.
“Where’s Idrithar when you need him,” Yamier chortled.
Wekin picked himself off, smoothing down his clothes and sticking his nose back in the air. “Stop messing with me Yamier or I’ll drown you like one of the fishes.”
“Are you sure you know how Wekin? Since you can’t even navigate on land.”
“Aye!” Wekin yelled, leaping forward.
Yamier dodged him and ran ahead, laughter pealing down the halls.
Optimistic faced Eliesmore, the mischief leaving his face as he raised an eyebrow, an earnest look coming over his face. “Feeling any better?”
Eliesmore shrugged, torn between the desire to confine in Optimistic and the need to hide the dark secrets he knew. “Better. I think. But I lost something precious, and I believe I lost it in Daygone.”
Optimistic’s brows knitted together. “What was it?”
A flash of fury bolted through Eliesmore’s mind, and he quickly dropped his face and turned, attempting to suppress the rage. “The Light of Shalidir.”
Optimistic’s head snapped back, and confusion crossed his face as his lips turned down. Before he could say anything, a group of mice came around the curve of the lighted hall, fanning themselves as if they had just been run over. The leader stood about a foot tall while the others stood about eight inches tall. “Why Duríment, is that you?” Optimistic cried.
The mouse swept off his white hat and gave a sweeping bow, showing off his fine whispers and long, elegant tale. He wore a stiff suit of white and stood on his hind legs. “Duríment and Company at your zervice.” He remained bowing just a moment too long before standing again. “Yez, Optimistic. We are ‘zhamed of how we ran at de zlightezt worry o’ de Black Zeeds. We have returned to your zide again, to de fortrezz and to carrying barrelz ‘gain.”
“I’m so glad, we missed you here,” Optimistic exclaimed, bending so that he was on eye level with the mice.
“Aye, dat we did, dat we did,” echoed the mice behind Duríment.
“Let me introduce you to Eliesmore the One,” Optimistic
turned to Eliesmore.
“I am pleased to meet you and glad you have returned,” Eliesmore smiled.
Duríment and Company whipped off their beautiful hats and bowed. “At your zervice,” their shrill voices cried.
“Thank you,” Eliesmore nodded.
Duríment and Company scurried on and Eliesmore continued with Optimistic.
“What were you saying about the Light of Shalidir?” Optimistic returned to their earlier conversation.
“Nothing,” Eliesmore shrugged the thought away. “It is no bother. I don’t need it anymore. Right now, I want to know where Lythe is. I would very much like to see him again.”
“We shall find him after we eat,” Optimistic agreed.
They ascended toward the banquet halls while voices cheered around them. Hands reached out to touch Eliesmore’s shoulders, and he forced polite smiles and nodded, clasping hands and listening to the names that were poured into his ears and instantly forgotten. The people rejoiced, he heard their words of thanks and praise, and yet, he could not help but wonder, where were all these people a year ago? Were they in hiding? Did they turn a blind eye while the world was destroyed? They were here now because it was easy, much easier to join after not one, but two great victories have been achieved. That is, if Daygone counted as a victory. Eliesmore scratched the back of his neck as a niggling pricked his spine. He wished he could forget what happened there, what he read, what he saw. He let the crowds pass over him until he arrived at the hall and another burst of welcome and congratulations swept over him. His face flushed as one by one, the Crons, Tiders, and Mermis stood in thunderous applause that shook the very foundations of the fortress.
By the time Eliesmore was able to sit down, he was hot, sweaty and his head buzzed from the noise. For mere moments he wished he were alone or back in the glade of Shimla, dancing with the Iaen. Wekin sat across from him, elbows on the table, deep into his second plate of bacon. Now and then he’d emerge to down a glass of ale and overwhelm whoever he was sitting next to with tales of the adventures of the Green Company. Right now, he was telling the tale of when they were trapped in the Holesmoles and the Python attacked them.
Eliesmore mechanically shoved food into his mouth, washing it down with sweet wine. It was some time before his eyes stopped glazing over and he sat up straight, waving as he saw Skip and Bruthen from across the room. He motioned for them to join him and Optimistic. Although they sat at a long table, Crons and Tiders kept getting up and coming back, revolving to different seats in the hall as if to give everyone a chance to speak to the great heroes of their day and age.
“Eliesmore!” Skip and Bruthen came up while Optimistic pulled out chairs for them.
“You didn’t tell us,” Skip grinned, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “This place is paradise. Everyone is happy and kind,” she bit her lip, her eyes sweeping across the room.
“Yamier, Wekin, meet Skip and Bruthen, children of the sea,” Optimistic said.
Wekin jumped, jolted out of his story. “Children of the Sea?” He saluted Bruthen and winked inappropriately at Skip. “Oh, no one told me you’re female,” he grinned.
Skip flushed as she sat down while Bruthen tried to frown and smile at Wekin at the same time, a confused expression crossing his face.
“Don’t mind him,” Yamier pushed Wekin aside. “My lady, it is a pleasure,” he took Skip’s hand and smiled. “Burthen, welcome. Tell me. I want to know more about the sea. Wekin and I traveled back here through the currents of Werivment in a boat, and we had many heated discussion regarding navigation by the Green Light.”
Eliesmore tuned out their conversation, letting the red wine make his vision fuzzy.
“Of course, I will go sailing the next chance I get,” Wekin’s boisterous voice cut into his thoughts. “Not in the rivers, mind you, they are much too small for adventures. I want to see monsters and Under Water World People out in the Jaded Sea. One day, I’ll sail to Oceantic.”
Yamier grinned. “Wekin likes to take credit, but sailing is my idea, I will have a ship.”
“I will have a ship too,” Wekin nodded, winking at Skip.
“I was thinking of getting married and opening an inn…” Burthen began.
“Bah, no, you can’t. That’s what Trazames do. Settle down, get married, stay boring. That’s why they don’t have any adventure in life. Just imagine a storm on the high seas, your ship getting tossed this way and that, escaping from the perilous rocks when a sea monsters rears its ugly head and tries to eat you…”
Eliesmore stood up, excusing himself from the din. He yawned, surprised at how tired he was. He wandered down the hall, back toward where the barrels came in. Around him the animals chattered and snoring in a corner, he found Lythe. The lion had grown much bigger in their months of separation, and an old fondness rose in Eliesmore. He lay down beside Lythe and put his arms around him. Lythe nuzzled him through his sleep, mumbling. “You came back. I missed you.”
“Yes. Hush now. Sleep,” Eliesmore whispered. He lay his head on Lythe’s back and closed his eyes, hoping the darkness would fade, hoping he’d find the light, even though everything inside of him felt broken and ruined.
60
Eliesmore
A bell rang in Eliesmore’s head. He could not turn it off. The din kept growing until it turned into a voice, screaming with the fury of a thousand monsters. A red-eyed horned shadow turned to him and opened its mouth, a gaping hole with winds of blackness rushing out of it. White claws flashed and streaks of blood covered the ground as the people groups ran in terror. As they fled, the skin slipped from their backs, and their pure white souls turned black. Falling to the ground they shrieked in misery as one by one, the shadow swept over and consumed them, male, female, young, old, rich, poor, children, the future of the Four Worlds, eaten, one by one.
Eliesmore sat up with a strangled yell, his heart racing as the dream faded. He waved his arms in front of his face, breathing hard as he glanced around to see who he had awoken. Lythe slept on, his body rising and falling as gentle snores escaped from his half-open mouth.
“Eliesmore,” Optimistic’s voice came from nearby. He was propped up on the other side of Lythe with a pillow and blanket. “We are at the fortress. Remember? All is well.”
Eliesmore glanced down at the blanket covering his feet and back over to Optimistic. “What are you doing here?”
“I came looking after you disappeared last night. Someone has to watch over you. I thought you might sneak off.”
Eliesmore bit his lip, recalling his dream. “No, not yet.”
“Was it a bad dream?” Optimistic inquired, shaking out the blanket as he folded it, dropping it down on top of his pillow.
Eliesmore leaned over to stroke Lythe’s mane. The lion was almost full grown, and Eliesmore wondered about his rapid growth. He shook his head at Optimistic’s question. “It was a dream or vision,” he felt the darkness rise up within him. “We are running out of time.”
Optimistic was silent, waiting as if Eliesmore might go on. Instead, Eliesmore stood, stretching his sore muscles and patting the wrinkles out of his clothes.
“No matter,” Optimistic went on. “We have to leave.”
“Why?” Eliesmore raised his eyebrows in surprise. “We just got here.”
“I know, but the Mermis want to have a word with us, a council, up in the Cloud Kingdom.” Optimistic smiled. “Can you imagine? We’ve never been invited up there before.”
“Nay,” Eliesmore cocked his head, noting the lust of adventure and deep curiosity that settled over Optimistic’s face, and he wished he cared.
Within the hour, Eliesmore found himself outside again. Instead of going around to the front of the fortress, Optimistic led him out to the back, winding through the tangled woods until they came to an opening, and the white shores of Oceantic spread before them. Optimistic walked off to greet some Crons while Eliesmore surveyed the area.
On the beach great trees were being
felled, sharp axes taken to tree trunks which were chopped, sanded down and used to build great ships. Four massive structures perched on the shore where the outcropping of trees had been cut back to make room for them. A bolt of fury passed through Eliesmore as he watched the Crons and Tiders, a mix of male and female, set to work, building the ships that would guide the passage across the Jaded Sea to the western countries of the South World.
Narrowing his eyes, he clenched his fists, spinning to face whoever was beside him. “Who gave them permission to cut down the trees?” He demanded, almost spitting with the intensity of the anger he felt. All of nature was alive, he knew this with certainty, especially after Daygone and his encounter with the Zikes. Yet he felt as if an unspoken massacre had taken place and the people groups were okay with sacrificing the life of the trees to build temples to carry them wherever they wished. He knew it was irrational of him to be furious at their actions, especially since he desired to cross the sea as soon as possible and hunt down the Dark Figure. In fact, he wished himself into the ships now. There was no need to wait for winter to thaw, he needed to go. The anger pulsed deep inside him, twisting together like mangled roots.
Zhane, who stood behind him, crossed his arms. “The trees were dead, they gave their lives willingly.”
The words softened Eliesmore’s anger, yet he clenched his jaw all the same. “Who determined the trees were dead? There is still life in this wood. I can feel it.”
Zhane gave him an odd look. “I feel it too. The Mermis determine what happens here in this fortress when the leaders are away. Eliesmore, we haven’t spoken about what happens after the three deeds are complete,” he gestured west. “I want you to know, Idrithar and I don’t intend to return. There will be no need for White Steeds to hide in this fortress although I assume many will come because this place has a homeward tilt. The Mermis used to live here, once, but now the Cloud Kingdom is built and there they will dwell. Eliesmore. The time is coming when the immortals will no longer intertwine their fates with mortals. They fight to give the world back to the mortals, and once it is ours, I believe they will disappear.”
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword Page 23