The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  “We were fine,” Artenvox went on. “Scratched up and shaken. We searched for Cuthan and his father until we were attacked again as if the forest wanted us to be separate and on our own.”

  “And what happened to your father?” Phyllis questioned. “You never speak of him.”

  Artenvox’s face grew dark, and turning away, he strode rapidly forward with a hand on his sword hilt.

  “Now that is a question,” Cuthan whispered to Phyllis as they trudged between the scattered trees of the wood. “I don’t know myself, but I assume it had to do with the finding of his token.”

  “And that’s why you are searching for power?” Phyllis confirmed, watching Cuthan.

  He grinned, his eyes lighting up as he winked at her. “Life cannot be about getting lost in the wood, growing old in the villages of the south, or sailing on the rough seas of the west. I want the truth. I want knowledge.”

  “You want to be like the Order of the Wise?” Phyllis asked, coming to a stop as a sudden wind howled over the treetops.

  “I want to know,” Cuthan said.

  He may have said more, but his words were lost as the wind roared again, rattling the trees and whipping up the pine needles at their feet. A flock of birds flew through the air, cawing a warning through the forest. Moments later, rabbits bounded out of the wood and dashed away. Ferrets scattered across their path, and the red and white foxes ran together, fleeing the surrounding area.

  “Something is coming for us, run!” Artenvox shouted.

  Phyllis did not have time to reply; she felt her legs moving again as she ran toward Ilieus, slipping on the ground as she ran. Ilieus was reaching for her; her lips mouthed the word hurry as they moved through the trees.

  Another roar echoed through the forest, but this time it wasn’t the wind in the trees or the beasts of the wood fleeing. This time it was a creature that slithered on its belly toward them. It came out of the southeast, driving them north as it chased them.

  Phyllis couldn’t help but look behind as she ran, catching sight of the gigantic lizard-like creature. It had four stubby legs with claws at the end that held up its ten-foot-long, brownish body. Those legs moved surprisingly fast over the forest floor, even as they supported the heavy body of the creature. Its scaly skin was a tough bed of armor designed to protect it against the beasts of the wood. As it ran, it waved its tail, half the length of its body, through the underbrush, causing a hissing, rattling sound as it moved. Its face was a long snout, much like the snouts of tiny lizards Phyllis found near the ponds at home, where the silver fish swam back and forth. Four curved fangs stuck out of its mouth, and when it opened it to roar, she saw another row of gleaming teeth with bits of flesh and blood trapped in those jagged rows.

  “Don’t stop!” Artenvox screamed at her. “Keep running!”

  The giant lizard saw her watching it and bared its teeth, driving its nose toward the ground and aimed at her. Its round, bloodshot eyes bugged out of its head as it hurtled toward her.

  Phyllis felt the same panic she’d felt as the sea serpent attacked, realizing there was nothing to do but wait for it to catch up and pounce. Suddenly all she could hear was the terrible roar of the creature, and its foul breath enveloped her. The rotten stench of death and decay blasted through the wood.

  Ahead of her, Artenvox and Cuthan had drawn their swords and were crouching, waiting for the monster to get close enough. At the last minute, the creature whipped its body around, sending its tail slashing through the air, knocking Artenvox and Cuthan off their feet. They landed roughly on their backs; Cuthan lost his sword. He wheezed, attempting to drag air back into his lungs.

  Artenvox was faster. He kicked through the pine needles, and he swung at the tail of the creature. He caught the tip and neatly swiped it off, the rattles flying through the air to land untouched at the base of a tree.

  “Climb!” Ilieus called standing near the trunk of a tree and reaching for the lowest branch.

  Phyllis stumbled toward her as the creature charged Artenvox. He waved his sword and shouted, anticipating the attack, but Cuthan was still flat on the ground, his fingertips reaching for his sword. As fast as she dared, Phyllis snatched a rock up from the ground and hurled it toward the lizard’s snout. It smacked into the creature’s jaw, but before Phyllis could rejoice at her lucky shot, the tail whipped around, throwing her off her feet and dashing her head against the tree trunk. Her eyes met blackness for brief seconds, and she heard Ilieus screaming her name. She tried to rise, reaching for her head as bile rose in her mouth. The world seemed to be going in circles, and she felt dizzy as she saw the lizard strike Artenvox and Cuthan yet again.

  Its roar sounded again, flattening her against the ground, even though she attempted to rise. They were going to die there, weren’t they? She could smell fresh blood permeating the air; someone had been bitten. In a fog, she heard shouts and screams, and she managed to sit up, one hand holding her bruised head.

  The monster was still at large, and now it turned its fearsome head toward her and roared. Rotten teeth moved closer to devour her, and the scream rising in her throat died as she stared in horror. But just as suddenly, she saw jewels; they sparkled with a light of their own as they drove their way into the creature, and suddenly the cries were from the beast itself as it struggled to get away. Phyllis’s legs trembled underneath her as she stood, grasping for the tree trunk for support, unsure if what she saw was a figment of her imagination.

  53

  Hidden in Shadows

  “Pharengon!” an excited voice shouted. “What are you doing here?”

  Phyllis stared as, indeed, the golden-eyed Horse Lord pulled his Jeweled Sword from the lizard’s belly. It rolled over with a grunt as blackish blood poured from its bowels. Pharengon wiped his sword on the ground and reached for a handful of fallen leaves to finish wiping the blood and guts off.

  “Indeed.” He walked over to Cuthan and Artenvox. “We caught up to you just as you were fighting this abominable beast.”

  Behind Pharengon, his blond-headed friend, Thangone, placed a foot upon the beast and poked at it with his sword, ensuring it was dead.

  Phyllis leaned against the tree to steady herself, reeling from both the bump on her head and the surprise of once again seeing the mysterious Horse Lord.

  Artenvox rolled off the ground, holding his arm as he limped up. “Caught up? What do you mean? We left you in Contres!” he announced, but his voice fell away as he gazed down at Pharengon’s sword.

  Pharengon looked tired. “Is everyone okay?” he asked, glancing around at the small search party.

  “Ah.” Artenvox pulled his hand away from his arm; it dripped red. “It’s just a bite; I’ll live.”

  “Here.” Thangone tossed a pack from his back. “I have supplies; let’s clean that up before it gets infected.”

  “Phyllis hit her head,” Ilieus spoke up as she dropped out of the treetops.

  Pharengon paused; his eyes wandered over them, but his gaze stopped at Phyllis. He held out a hand for a cloth as he slipped his sword back into its sheath. “Let me see,” he said.

  Her breathe caught as he walked up to her, his reddish-brown hair dancing widely on his forehead. He’d tossed aside his cloak before the battle, and his Jeweled Sword was displayed clearly in the murky woods. He towered over her as he touched her head, right where it hurt the most. “Phyllis of Haitiar, so we meet again.” His words fell in hushed tones to her ears.

  He brushed leaves, dirt, and caked blood from her head; his eyes roamed over her face, questions dancing behind his eyes.

  She reached up to grasp his hand, uncertain whether he was real or a dream that kept appearing in her reality. “Pharengon. What are you doing here in the wood?”

  Something froze behind those golden eyes. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, squeezing gently before he let go. He turned back toward Thangone, who had finished binding Artenvox’s wound. Thangone handed Pharengon his cloak while Artenvox turned to
lead the way forward.

  “We’ve been following your trail ever since we left Contres,” Pharengon explained.

  “Following?” Artenvox interrupted. “But that’s impossible! The forest shouldn’t let you.” He eyed Pharengon’s sword.

  “Contres is a disaster,” Pharengon continued. “I was able to secure a meeting with Kronter, who runs the island. After my discussion with him and the failed attack on the island, it became quite clear that they have nothing to do with the death of the Eastern World. They only seek to capitalize on it. Kronter has a ruthless strategy that only benefits himself and his army. Thangone and I thought it best to follow you here and help you search for the Clyear of Power. Although the people groups flock to the islands, I fear it may be too late.”

  “What are the Contrevails doing then?” Artenvox asked, wrinkling his face in confusion.

  “They are offering asylum to people from the landmass,” Thangone replied. “In exchange for working their lands.”

  “It is the equivalent of slavery.” Pharengon frowned.

  “We actually were shipwrecked on the island on our way here,” Cuthan put in. “Ilieus said there was something in the castle.”

  “You were there?” Pharengon paused in astonishment. “When? During the attack?”

  Phyllis felt a lump growing in her throat as she was reminded of what had happened on Contres. As if mirroring her thoughts, Ilieus grabbed her arm, hugging her close as they stumbled through the forest.

  “Aye,” Cuthan confirmed. “It was quite unfortunate.”

  Pharengon said nothing else, but his lips turned into a thin line.

  “You were lucky to have escaped then,” Thangone said. “The Contrevails plan on taking over all the islands, and requiring a tax for entry. They are using their army to enforce their laws on the islands, but we know they plan on laying siege to Wind Fresh and eventually take it over.”

  “No!” Artenvox exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists. “What of Miri and Tharmaren the Wise? Are they safe?”

  Pharengon sighed. “We left many Horse Lords there to guard the castle and sent word to our allies in the landmass. Only the Trazames of Nungus Des-Lista are untouched by this. The Dezzi, we hope, will come to our aid, but I fear they will go into hiding rather than stand with us.”

  “What did you find in the castle?” Ilieus whispered, her voice somehow carrying to Pharengon’s ears.

  “What I will tell you...” His golden eyes looked at each of them, daring them to accept his knowledge. “Is hard to swallow, but I swear it is the truth.”

  The forest listened with baited breath, and Pharengon began his tale, his words drifting to every nook and cranny of the silent forest. The lizard was now dead, but the living stayed in hiding, waiting as if something might return and something evil might awaken to destroy them again.

  “Tharmaren the Wise was brought here as if out of air and mist or dropped through the clouds. He lives here the rest of his days, but he knew a life before this. He claims he was there when the Western World was taken and when the portals opened and the poison seeped through and the transformed creatures crept into that world. He was there when the Five Warriors arose and took their weapons, their powers, and their armies into the west and vanquished all in their paths. He was there when the land was laid to peace and the Watchers took up their mission to watch over this world lest the evil creep in again, rising up through the ground to ruin us all. Yet he feared something was missing, hidden in the shadows, and only the immortals saw it and only the immortals could survive it and so they did nothing. They hid the knowledge and hid their powers, lest us mortals discover it and attempt to do something about it. But he did find out, and the immortals cursed him and hid him away. They say those that hold the weapons of old, who can find the power that unlocks them from stone, will hold the fate of the Eastern World. It is a burden I did not intend to claim, but it seems none are willing. The path is riddled with death. The Contrevails know this, and they blame the Blended Ones. They believe if the people groups are pure and of one mind, we will be as strong as we were in days of old. Because if the landmass falls into chaos and the islands are saved, the Blended Ones will be no more.”

  “It’s not our fault!” Ilieus interrupted, her voice cutting like a knife through the air. “It’s not our fault our parents did what they did. It is unfair to punish us for their choices!”

  “I know,” Pharengon replied gently. “But you must remember, one does have a choice when it comes to choosing who to spend the rest of one’s life with.” His eyes caught Phyllis’s and rested there.

  54

  Love

  “Where is Roturk?”

  Phyllis’s head snapped up. Pharengon stood before her, gesturing to the fallen log she sat on. Evening had come, and the darkness was almost absolute, save for the flickering fire Artenvox and Thangone had managed to build from dried twigs. They may not have been fond of each other, but they worked well together. Cuthan sat near Ilieus, telling her stories of his adventures. Phyllis could tell because of the way he gestured with his hands and his animated face lit up with contentment.

  Her eyes clouded over. “He’s gone now. He comes back sometimes, though. I don’t know how, but he seems to always know where to find me.”

  “This is remarkable.” Pharengon moved to sit beside her, leaving a proper amount of space between them. “It is a curious creature; I would like to know more about him.”

  Silence lapsed between them. Phyllis shifted on the log, unsure whether she should face the fire or turn to face the Horse Lord, even though his expression was hard to read in the shadows. She felt her hands grow clammy, and she lifted them from the log, placing them in her lap. There were questions she wanted to ask the Horse Lord, but, at the moment, none came to mind.

  “May I speak honestly with you?” he began again. His face was drawn, and his eyes were guarded as if he didn’t want her to read the thoughts dancing in his mind, even though he was about to admit them to her.

  She tilted her head toward him. “Yes.”

  He propped an elbow on his knee and stared into the wood. The light from the fire lit up his face, showing off his young features and aged eyes. “Phyllis, I haven’t known you long, and I know the circumstances are not ideal, but I have come to care for you.”

  Her heart began to thump in her throat; she could feel the blood pulse below the surface and realized she must be blushing. All along, she had suspected his warm feelings for her, but she was only aware of the effect he had on her. His admission made it seem more real than it had ever been as if she could reach out her fingers and envelope them in mists of fine love. “I know,” she replied, surprised at how firm and clear her voice rang out.

  He turned in surprise; his wide eyes met hers. “You knew,” he whispered, holding out a hand to her. “Thus, we meet again as if the fates align our steps.”

  His hand squeezed hers in understanding before he let go, and the moment of clarity and seeing eye-to-eye passed. He pulled away awkwardly, and Phyllis wasn’t sure whether to continue the conversation or change the subject. She felt woefully inexperienced in this area, and she yearned to talk to someone about it. Ilieus wouldn’t understand, even with her supposed infatuation with Cuthan. No, it should have been Mother. Mother would have known how to sort feelings and discuss the desire of something more than simple friendship and protection. That’s what Pharengon was offering, wasn’t it?

  “What happens after this?” she murmured instead. “You are to become King.”

  She didn’t understand what he meant. She was just a simple person, a Blended One at best, and he was to be the future king. His confession of feelings to her made no sense. Could she entertain the possibility of a life with him? What of her sister? What of the dissension among the people groups?

  He frowned. “I am not sure. Regardless of what happens, there is work to be done. If we escape the landmass before it collapses, we must focus on bringing peace to the islands. If
we find this ancient power and save the landmass, there will be even more work to bring peace to both the landmass and the islands.”

  Phyllis tried to keep the disappointment out of her eyes. She meant to ask what would happen between them and not the world on a grander scale. “I see.” She turned away, not seeing at all.

  “Regardless, we must be cautious. The woods may have parted for us, but they are treacherous.”

  “But you have the Jeweled Sword,” she breathed, “that has to count for something.”

  “Aye,” his fingers brushed the hilt. “But it is just a sword.”

  “Pharengon,” she whispered, the awkwardness drifting away. “Sometimes I am frightened. I don’t understand why this is happening to us.”

  “I know,” he replied and, in one movement, crushed her in his arms. His cheek brushed against her silken hair, and he kissed the top of her head. He smelled of mint and evergreen as her cheek pressed against his chest. She wove her arms around him, closed her eyes, and held tight. The sense of security was overwhelming, and she actually felt safe for the first time since Father walked out the door. The woods were risky, but they had to win; she didn’t know what they would do if they didn’t. Lost and drifting for the rest of her life would be no life at all; it would be survival, and she was not born for survival. She was born to live, and, as Pharengon held her, she saw the possibility blink open.

  55

  The Lady of the Forest

  One dismal evening, the six travelers found themselves standing in front of a hut in a clearing. It was a miserable day; the rain drizzled without end, soaking them from head to toe, while the thick fog refused to let in light. In that part of the wood, the trees had lost their leaves and held up their bare branches, refusing to be ashamed. Sticks and stones littered the ground around the hut, which was black with char as if it had been burned with fire. Dead leaves fluttered around the doorstep, and as they approached, they heard the voice of a female singing off-key and in a partial, broken language. When the mumbled words drifted toward them, they made no sense.