The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  “I hear it,” Ilieus replied. “The forest is speaking.”

  Cuthan stood with his back to them, watching the shadows dance. “I have heard its tongue before,” he said wistfully. “Do you understand it?”

  “No,” Ilieus whispered. “Not yet.” She bent her head closer to the dancing lights. “Flame will become fire. Evil will be judged. The balance will be restored.”

  “What did you say?” Phyllis sat up straight, her brow pinched together as she stared at her sister.

  Startled, Ilieus dropped a twig. It clattered to the forest floor and rested with relief among the grubby wet leaves. “Nothing, it just came to me…it’s the air of the forest I think. It is clarity. I can see much clearer now, much further.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Phyllis smiled at her, letting worry and fright drift away for a time.

  The fire grew, crackling merrily and reminding Phyllis of her last night in Phillondorn with the Riders. She recalled the handsome Cron with the golden eyes, Pharengon the Horse Lord, that was what they called him. It was hard to tell, with the betrayal of the people groups, which side he was actual on. Was he a Countervail posing as a Relalon? Was he actually a Relalon and determined to fight for the rights of the Blended Ones? Either way—although she knew it was impossible, now that they were outcasts on an impossible treasure hunt—she wished she could see him again. And not in a gathering where all eyes were on them, and it was hard to ask him questions. After all, she’d never told Ilieus and Cuthan she’d met him before in the wild lands.

  The next morning, they kicked wet leaves over the fire, smothering the life out of it, and moved on through the dense green foliage. Often times their feet caught on long trails of green ivy, and they’d catch themselves, grasping at thick tree trucks and sporadic vines hanging from above. Roots poked up with malicious intent from the ground in their paths, and leaves brushed against them, unwilling to move out of the way of the intruders. Short, green grass grew in patches where the sunlight shone through. Otherwise, the forest was dark in its own green world, shutting out all light and outsiders in the land. A gloomy aura perched over the trees. Even the exotic birds and animals called warnings to each other as they rushed through the thicket, keeping each other out of sight of the strangers in their lands. The only cheerful sound was the constant babble of a brook, weaving its way in and out of their path on its journey inland. It was scarcely more than a foot wide at some points. As they continued farther, Phyllis could feel a sense of Cronish curiosity creeping over her like a plague. She found herself pushing forward, almost outside of her own will, daring to see what was around each nook and cranny of the forest. Even Ilieus had more color in her cheeks from the vigorous walk through the forest.

  Artenvox was far ahead, but they could still see him at times, swinging through the trees like a beast of the branches, singing a merry jaunt to himself as he surged forward.

  “This is the River Land,” Cuthan cheerfully told them, refusing to let the gloom of the forest throw a shadow over his attitude. He looked much happier than Phyllis had ever seen him as he picked up a dead tree branch to use as a walking stick. He brushed leaves, beetles, and worms off it as he spoke. “We’ll see the river at times; it flows north to meet the great Oceantic. There are all sorts of peculiar creatures that live below. I was captured by them once,” he boasted.

  “What were they like?” Phyllis called, short of breath as she fought the brambles of the wood. Her cloak was trapped on a branch, which held itself open like a hand as if it were deliberately pulling her cloak away from her.

  “Beautiful!” Cuthan called back, leaping on a log and balancing his way across a small pit of green slime. “There are people of the river, the sea, and Oceantic. They call themselves Under Water World People.”

  “Do they?” Phyllis snorted as she yanked her cloak free, almost falling flat on her face. “I bet they thought that was clever.”

  Cuthan ignored her and went on. “They are often besieged by River Ravones, which are more than plentiful in this land. They like to collect Under Water World People and create kingdoms under the sea to rule in.”

  “What’s a River Ravone?” Ilieus asked, holding her skirts up as she navigated her way through the underbrush.

  “Oh.” Cuthan paused, looking back at her and quirking his signature smile. “You don’t want to know. They have eight legs and walk on them like… aye, much like a spider. Their heads are as big as a horse’s.” He waved his hands above his head to demonstrate. “And their hair is long like a horse’s tail. Their mouths are powerful snappers, even though they are lipless and toothless. You would not want to meet one of them.” He shuddered.

  “Have you met one?” Ilieus was now looking up at Cuthan with an expression Phyllis did not like at all. It was a mix of awe and admiration.

  “Of course.” Cuthan spread his arms wide. “I’m the adventurer; I’ve met everything.”

  “Ahhh!” Artenvox shrieked from ahead, his shout was less from agony and more from surprise.

  Phyllis froze where she stood, looking to Cuthan for direction. He crept forward to shade his eyes in order to see Artenvox better.

  “Wodnidrains! Run!” Artenvox’s shouts filtered back to them. A moment later, he came running out of the wood ahead; his hand was on his neck where blood dripped down from a wound on it. He pointed back behind with his free hand, waving frantically.

  “Watch it!” Cuthan cried; the sight of blood was not enough to encourage him to run just yet. “What’s ahead?”

  “Head north!” Artenvox ordered them. “Wodnidrains in the wood. Run!”

  Cuthan turned back to Phyllis and Ilieus, who looked up at him questioningly. “Well, you heard him, run!” he cried.

  They set off as best they could, jogging through the thicket and tripping over bramble and branches in their haste.

  “What are Wodnidrains?” Phyllis shouted to Artenvox, not sure what she should be afraid of. There was a trickle of blood on Artenvox’s neck. Once he was closer to them, the cut appeared quite minor.

  “Creatures of the wood!” Artenvox called back over his shoulder.

  “I’ve never met them,” Cuthan threw in. “How bad are they?”

  “Nasty little creatures. Now hush and run!” Artenvox commanded.

  Phyllis, who was in the back, felt herself turning around to look, even though she knew her feet should be carrying her forward. Her eyes were drawn upward because she had to know. Indeed, she was rewarded for her trouble because the most miniature people she’d ever seen perched on a branch. Her feet stopped moving, and she toppled over in surprise, staring.

  Tales and fables all told of creatures beyond her imagination; variations in creations she’d assumed never existed. All because she’d never seen them before. But now, in the dense wood, the tales came flying back, and she realized what the wood made her desire. She wanted truth. She desired knowledge. Above all, she wanted to know.

  High in the tree above her were three twelve-inch tall creatures. All were female with ink-black hair that came down to a sharp point close to their tiny feet. From what she could see, they appeared to be wearing clothes made out bark dyed green to camouflage them in the wood. Their faces were heart-shaped and pointed, their ears stuck out above the top of their heads much like horns, and their eyes were black saucers without pupils. Each held a bow made of twigs in their hands, and they raised them at Phyllis and shot. Seconds later, she felt the pointed arrows sink into her arms. “Yowch!” she yelled, moving forward again as she flung the arrows out of her arms. Surprised at how much it hurt, she looked down to see the pointed ends of thorns sticking into her arms. “They have thorn-tipped arrows!” she shouted, waving her arms in a panic, suddenly understanding Artenvox completely. “Run!”

  But the Wodnidrains came on, leaping from tree branch to tree branch, chasing the intruders out of their lands. Arrows whizzed by the four as they ran. The arrows sunk into their arms, backs, and shoulders as they fled, shrieking
and shouting. At one moment, Phyllis dared to look back again and saw five of the creatures sitting on a branch, holding their tiny tummies and laughing as they pointed at her. One stood up and shot an arrow while the others rolled around, giggling.

  “Come on! Don’t look; they’ll just keep laughing,” Ilieus called to her.

  Phyllis balled up her fists as she fled. “How dare they laugh at us?!” she objected. “If only I could drive their tiny arrow right back into them, they would laugh no more.”

  “They would probably die,” Ilieus whispered, and her words rang ominously through the forest.

  They ran on for a time until the Wodnidrains grew tired of their game and disappeared back into the leafy boughs, leaving the four to nurse their wounds and pick thorns out of their skin. They paused by the banks of the river in a patch of rare sunlight.

  “Nasty things,” Artenvox complained, tossing arrows into the river.

  “These thorns hurt,” Phyllis bemoaned, looking at her ripped cloak. “More than I would have thought.”

  “What a nuisance.” Cuthan looked back from whence they had come. “Now we have no idea where we are.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Ilieus spoke softly. “Just keep going.”

  50

  Midlands

  They continued traveling in a sort of northeast fashion, following the clues Ilieus remembered from the scroll. Days passed, and the forest grew denser. At times, it seemed as if they were the first to broach those lands, and Cuthan and Artenvox could neither confirm nor deny whether they had been in that particular area of the forest before. The wildness overtook them, and the civil war in the lands to the south seemed but a dream. Even Roturk took to flying off on his own. He was now the size of an eagle; his wingspan was making it difficult to stay with the small company that roamed the thick wood.

  “I could live here. I think,” Phyllis said one morning as the sweet sap from the trees awoke her with heady elation. “I could be a wild one of the forest. There is no war and no politics. There is only the life between one and the forest. I think I’m beginning to understand it now.”

  “You speak like one of the Wise Ones.” Cuthan arched a brow and then laughed. “See why we had to return? You do understand it.”

  “Yes,” Phyllis agreed. “It’s not something that can be put into words; it’s just a feeling. I dreamed of this once, and I’ve been longing to be here, free and curious. Now my dream is coming true.”

  “Ah.” Artenvox shook his head. “Don’t tell me you’ll be lost writing poetry about this land. Happens to many a Cron before they fall to their deaths.”

  “True.” Cuthan sobered. “Phyllis, the North Forests have an intoxicating power; it’s hard to escape.”

  Ilieus frowned. “But…it’s dangerous here. Right?”

  “Hum…” Cuthan walked into the shadows. “You can be the judge of that.”

  “There is darkness ahead. An outcast from the south dwells. Without a mind,” Ilieus whispered in a singsong voice, almost as if she didn’t know what she was saying.

  Before midday, they found themselves standing in a clearing in the wood. It was the largest one they had come across so far, wide enough for four huts to be built side by side with plenty of room for the inhabitants to come and go. Instead of being carpeted by blades of grass, the ground was covered in hundreds of muddy footprints. They lined the ground, often overlapping as if a great many animals had chased each other back and forth and up and down the clearing. Artenvox, puzzled, bent down on the ground to inspect the footprints, sniffing as he went. Cuthan walked back and forth impatiently, waiting for Artenvox’s verdict.

  “Ah, look here.” Artenvox pointed at one set. “These look as if they could belong to one of the people groups. They are small. Possibly a short Cron?”

  “But what about this set?” Cuthan pointed to another. “Could be a bear.”

  “There may have been foxes here, too.” Phyllis pointed to a set of prints. She looked to the two Crons. “What could have done this?”

  “We are in Midlands.” Cuthan stood up straight and stared up at the cloudless sky. “Midlands, where strange things happen. Artenvox, remember?”

  “Ah.” Artenvox nodded, still examining the footprints. “The forest does not always reveal its mysteries.”

  “Midlands,” Ilieus repeated. She was staring across the clearing. “I remember. Among the evergreen where the midlands dance. Beware the blended, exiled ones. I remember. There is only one mystery we need to uncover.” She walked forward, crossing the flattened ground. She hesitated when she reached the other side. She placed a pale hand on a dark tree trunk and she looked back, catching Phyllis’s eyes. “Beware the blended, exiled ones.” She repeated. Then she turned and walked away.

  A pang gripped Phyllis’s heart as she considered her sister’s warning. Were they, indeed, the ones to be wary of? Did the forest have a mind of its own? And was it pulling them in deeper into its secrets? She stood quickly, turning her back on the Jeweled Ones, Cuthan and Artenvox, and followed Ilieus deeper into the forest.

  The next morning, they woke to a delicious rain falling about them. Instead of soaking them through, it seemed to alight on their heads, like feathers, gently gracing them with its presence. The intensity of the forest vanished as the rain fell, cooling off all hostility and refreshing those that bathed in its loving grace. Phyllis stood in it with her eyes closed, head thrown back, and her hands wide open as it fell, cleansing her of sorrow. When she opened her eyes again, she could see creatures almost like hummingbirds, fluttering in-between and gathering the raindrops, laughing in silver voices as they flitted here and there. Only they weren’t hummingbirds, but the speed of their flight kept them from being seen with the naked eye. “What are they?” Phyllis laughed as she watched them streak through the rain.

  “I don’t know. I almost caught one I think!” Ilieus laughed back.

  For mere moments, there was only them, the rain, and the joy it brought. And the darkness faded away.

  Artenvox watched with a smile on his face, and Cuthan looked around in awe, enchanted. “Every time I venture here,” he spoke, holding out his hands to touch the rain. “I find such beauties and mysteries I never knew existed. I live to find adventure far and wide because there is always something new to learn, discover, and hold on to. Why would one ever leave such a place as this?”

  They stayed as long as they dared, but the rain refused to stop, following them through the glistening wood and dropping like jewels upon the thicket until the thicket shone like a crystal. They snuck through the forest in breathless wonder: turning over a leaf here, peeking through the underbrush there, and expecting to find treasure at every turn.

  The miracle waited as long as it dared until, toward sunset, the rays of the sun cut through the forest, splitting the heavy growth with its light and dancing like a prism through the scattered raindrops. A mist began to rise as the sun burned off the rain, and the birds of the trees chirped and sang, flying from branch to branch, calling to each other and awakening their young, reminding all it was time. The small animals chattered, the squirrels with their fluffy tails came round, hedgehogs peeked out of their holes just to see, and predators stalking their prey paused for a moment. The beams of sunlight reached through the mist and sparked a dazzling rainbow of colors that lit up the wood in deep blues, reds, purples, and oranges.

  Phyllis gasped and felt a lump in her throat as she looked. She reached out in reverence of the glory and her hand fell into Ilieus’s who squeezed it tight. Together they watched the miracle of light dance through the forest, spreading a beacon of unity to all it touched. It may have been mere minutes or hours before it faded, holding the entire forest rapt before it let them go and let them return to their lives. When Phyllis put a hand to touch her cheek, she found it wet with tears, and all the woes of the world seemed to have been worth it just for that small moment.

  That night, they camped on the banks of a river, and Artenvox caught f
ish that Cuthan gutted and roasted. They ate slowly, enjoying the meal for as long as they could while the silvery lights of night cast their brilliance on the river.

  Mayhap it was the rain and the light, but long after the evening hours had passed, they found themselves awake. Only Roturk slept by the river bank while they sat in silence, propped against trees and listening to the music of the night. Crickets hummed in the distance, cicadas chipped underground, and the bushes and underbrush rustled as if on key.

  Ilieus sat up. “Wait.” She held a finger to her lips and cocked her head. “What’s that?”

  “Ah,” Artenvox murmured in satisfaction like one drunk on too much ale.

  Ilieus stood and turned back from whence they had come. “I thought I heard the forest send a message, asking us to come, but look!”

  Phyllis stood in slow motion, as if in a dream, while Cuthan lazily dragged himself away from his comfortable perch. Artenvox used his elbows to lift himself from the bank, and together the four of them peered back into the wood. A light flickered and another; lightening bugs had come to show the way. Yellow and white lights danced as if the stars had come down from the sky to come alive in the forest.

  “There.” Ilieus pointed. “I think there is another fire out there.”

  “Ah, you may be right,” Artenvox agreed.

  They fell silent again, watching and waiting.

  A note from a song floated to them; it was brought by the gentle stirrings of a breeze. A thump here. A thump there. An intentional thump in tune to the note.

  Ilieus moved forward, rushing from one tree trunk to the next. Phyllis moved behind her, but Artenvox was bolder and more daring, dashing further ahead with Cuthan at his heels. As they followed, they could indeed see a flickering fire and hear the sound of music and the soft thumps of what perhaps was dancing.