The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  “Arldrine!” Optimistic cried. He moved towards her with his arms wide open and the two embraced.

  “It's good to see you again, friend.” Arldrine pulled back, a genuine smile lighting up her grave features.

  “Ellagine. Eliesmore.” Optimistic nodded in their direction. He swung his bow off his back and plopped down, cross-legged.

  “Optimistic, I did not know you had left the fortress until Ellagine brought word,” Arldrine remarked as she sat beside him.

  “Yes, in January,” Optimistic confirmed. “I knew it was time. I had to go, just like you did.”

  Arldrine glanced away into the forest, her voice quiet. “Have there been any attacks since I left?”

  “None. All who dwell there remain, waiting for our return.”

  Arldrine sighed; Eliesmore could not tell whether it was from relief or frustration. He scratched his head as he noted the carefree, effortless way Optimistic and Arldrine communicated. That must be what it was like to have friends, and he had none, only obligations.

  “Eliesmore.” Optimistic’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I went to visit your mother and deliver the message. She was relieved to hear news of you and…” His eyes clouded over, and his face grew still. “She knew me.”

  “How is that possible?” Eliesmore murmured. Even as the words left his tongue, he realized his mother had a past life she had not told him about.

  “Arldrine, you have news for us?” Ellagine pressed.

  “We are in grave danger.” Arldrine straightened. The life faded from her voice as her fingers dropped to grip her dagger. “The Rakhai have risen up, and they are searching for you, Eliesmore, because you are the One. Optimistic, they are also hunting you because you are the Keeper of the Green Stone. The barrier of protection over these lands is fading; soon they will be on our trail.”

  Eliesmore felt a cold shiver of fear ripple down his back. “What are the Rakhai? How did they find out about me so fast?”

  “They might not know about you yet.” Ellagine waved her hand. “However, I knew when it was time to find you, they may have the same sixth sense. They have many spies, and your sword gives you away.”

  Eliesmore bit his lip, rubbing his arms. “Who are they?”

  “They are Monrages,” Arldrine explained, “eleven of them.”

  Eliesmore recoiled in horror as darkness began to creep over them. He’d heard the stories of Magdela the Monrage, one stronger than any immortal with a thirst for death. During her hundred-year rule, she had been clever and devastating, causing both Black and White Steeds alike to loathe her.

  “They ride great, black beasts,” Arldrine went on, “and possess unique power. In fact, I believe they are collecting more power for the Changers. More importantly, their mission is to stop us from reaching the Constel Heights.” Arldrine looked at the frightened and confused faces surrounding her. A hint of sorrow drifted into her voice. “I am sorry. I hate to be the bearer of evil tidings.”

  Ellagine stood, brushing her long hair back from her face. A green light shimmered briefly around her as a plan formulated. “We must go with all speed to Sanga San. The fastest way will be too dangerous, and the roundabout way will take us six more days. Four of us cannot stand and fight the Rakhai. We need Idrithar because he carries more power than I. We must go.”

  “Now?” Eliesmore asked in surprise as Arldrine and Optimistic rose.

  “Yes, Eliesmore,” Ellagine’s sharp voice stung as if she’d slapped him. “We don’t have time to sit around or sleep while the Rakhai search for us. We stop only when we are exhausted. Let’s run.”

  Night hid their journey as they fled through the woods, keeping an even pace to preserve their breath and energy. Arldrine led the way with Ellagine bringing up the rear, fear keeping them going. They did not know how exhausted they were until, a few hours before dawn, they came to the edge of the forest. There they stopped; each breathing hard. “Hide.” Arldrine gasped. “Sleep.” Eliesmore dropped where he stopped, not even bothering to take off his pack.

  Midmorning sunlight woke Eliesmore. He blinked and sat up, feeling stiff from sleeping on the ground and cold from the morning dew, which had dried on his clothes. Optimistic stood a few feet away, juggling four apples and singing under his breath.

  “Under hill, under dell,

  Under sky, moon, and stars

  We will quest to the west.

  We will thrive; we will ride

  On the backs of horses white.

  Under barrow and under dew,

  We will go with great cause

  Down the range and up the heights.

  Under flower and under fountain,

  Here we go like falling thunder.”

  Optimistic caught Eliesmore watching him and stopped. His ears turned red as he tossed Eliesmore an apple. Suddenly feeling keen with hunger, Eliesmore took a big bite. “These are sweet,” he said in surprise. “Where did you get these?”

  “The world holds many surprises.” Optimistic laughed. “There. I’ve sung for you. What songs do you know?”

  “None like that one.” Eliesmore shrugged, thinking back to the years he spent singing and dancing with the Iaen.

  Optimistic paused before taking another bite of his apple, noticing the way Eliesmore’s expression changed to one of euphoria. “What do you mean?”

  “When I was young,” Eliesmore began, “the Iaen invited me to sing and dance with them…”

  Arldrine walked out of the woods, interrupting. “There you are; you’ll need something more to eat than just apples.” She tossed them something flat and hard, wrapped in a broad, green leaf.

  “What is it?” Eliesmore turned it over before unwrapping it.

  “Smoked venison,” Arldrine replied. “It may be a little chewy, but it’s filling.”

  Optimistic was already gnawing away at his, a little perturbed Arldrine had ruined Eliesmore’s beautiful tale.

  Eliesmore opened his mouth to reply when he thought he heard a sound. He stiffened, remembering the Rakhai were hunting them. “Let’s run!” Ellagine ran out of the forest. “No delay!”

  Questions were not asked and glances were not exchanged; the four set off as fast as they could. Arldrine led them southwest across a plain of grass, heading for the Jaded Sea, which was several miles away.

  At one point, Eliesmore glanced over his shoulder. In the distance, he saw dark shapes undulating over the plain towards them. A cold bead of sweat ran down his neck, and his hands grew clammy. He forced his feet to move faster as sheer panic hit and his vision blurred. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the Rakhai were behind him. As soon as he saw them, he knew. They could smell power and would hunt him down, regardless of where he went or whom he had on his side. The aura of the Great-Black-Evil had an acrid tang to it; its potency poisoned the air.

  Eliesmore opened his mouth to warn his companions and to call for help. Nothing but dry air escaped. A great hopelessness welled up from the pit of his belly, like fingers threatening to choke him. The Rakhai drew nearer, and he could see them clearly. They rode black stallions, white foam dripping from their mouths as they drove forward at a breakneck pace.

  A muffled whimper escaped his throat, and he saw Arldrine’s head whip around. “The Monrages,” she shrieked. “Ellagine, do something!”

  “There’s a wood up ahead,” Ellagine ordered. “Run to it!”

  “The Monrages will be upon us then,” Arldrine shouted back.

  Music struck Eliesmore’s ears, and he heard Ellagine lift up her voice and call, “Wistfes seftisws, mocteo etomoc.”

  Four white horses materialized out of the clump of trees and raced towards them, pausing long enough to let the four swing up on their backs. As soon as they mounted the horses galloped forward, widening the distance between them and the Rakhai. Eliesmore crouched low on the horse, holding on for dear life with his arms and legs. As much as he admired the strength and beauty of horses, he’d never ridden before, and he found the ex
perience terrifying.

  A piercing scream of rage echoed over the plains, and Eliesmore cried out in fright. The Rakhai were moving in, closing the gap between them. He could see their black cloaks billowing in the wind and their long, wavy hair—black and transparent—streaming away from their white, hollow faces. There was nothing to stop the Rakhai from crushing all under the churning hooves of the Black Steeds. The world faded away and moved in slow motion.

  He saw a ball of green light shatter the air and burst into flames, dividing them from the Rakhai. The black stallions slowed, rearing up to escape the fire. The Rakhai stopped, watching the White Steeds race away before turning to gallop north.

  Eliesmore heard guttural shouting in a language he could not understand. He knew, for now, they were safe, but the Rakhai would regroup. They would return after they came up with another plan.

  The white horses swept onward, taking Eliesmore and his three companions with them. It was not until nightfall the horses came to a stop, and the four slid off their backs. They stood in the shadows of a few trees while the stars shone above. “Thank you,” Ellagine said. Her voice was soft again; the sharp, commanding edges were gone.

  “Call, and we will come,” one of the horses replied, “especially for the One. We must be off though; we would prefer not to meet the Rakhai again."

  Once the white horses were swallowed up by the dark of night, Eliesmore turned to Ellagine, Arldrine, and Optimistic. “Should we run on now?” he asked.

  Optimistic smiled. “And you didn’t want to go farther last night.”

  “I’m serious,” Eliesmore protested, not recognizing the teasing. “The sooner we get to the fortress, the better.”

  “You are right,” Ellagine agreed. “The Rakhai know our trail now. Once we reach the sea, we can lose them.”

  “Come on then.” Arldrine led the way.

  It took two more days and nights of running, snatches of sleep, and stolen bits of food before the four finally reached the Jaded Sea. It was magnificent. Its green waves rolled and splashed upon the ground. Then the waves raced back out to begin again. The creamy flow soothed the four after their long run, and that night, instead of pressing on, they slept by the sea, sprawled out on the sand.

  It was a peaceful evening, and Eliesmore dreamed of the Iaen and the creatures of the wood. He saw the stars, blazing across the sky; they were spinning and wheeling in their realms. As he watched, he realized the Iaens were no longer dancing, but they were living in hiding. Aware of this, he could almost hear the stars singing a long tale that twinkled with sorrow, blending together the eternal lights hovering over the South World. When Eliesmore woke, he felt somber; he sat up to watch the dawn. The sun cast colors over the sky, turning the sea into a fire as it rose.

  The others woke later and began to eat the first meal. Optimistic stood to smell the sweet air, whispering aloud, “Spring is coming.”

  “Spring,” Arldrine rejoiced. “Finally, come on.” She ran down to splash in the sea.

  Optimistic laughed and raced after her, light of heart. Ellagine smiled as she looked at Eliesmore. “Spring is in the air,” she said, and she turned to run into the sea as well.

  18

  Eliesmore

  March faded into April as the four ran along the coast of the sea. Spring arrived; only the flowers neglected to bloom, the grass failed to turn green, the butterflies hid, and the tree did not bud forth with flowers. On the third day since they had reached the sea, Ellagine stood on the shore. “We turn inland,” she called. “We can reach the fortress in fourteen days if we head directly there through the Land of Lock.”

  “Locherenixzes,” Eliesmore whispered. He was home again. He glanced from the sea to the land, but they were much farther down from where he had found the Jeweled Sword.

  “We go with all speed.” Ellagine led the way. “The water will not long cover our trail with its salty tang.”

  Arldrine sighed with regret as she captured one last glimpse of the Jaded Sea and its foaming secrets. “To the fortress then,” she said.

  Another peaceful three days passed. Eliesmore found it easy to forget the fear the Rakhai brought. Each morning he woke ready to run through lands he’d never crossed before, and he found himself enjoying his adventure. The constant running was beginning to take a toll on his body, yet the excursion was similar to dancing with the Iaen.

  As they passed through the Land of Lock, the weather lost its mopey chill, and the sunshine warmed the air. One April day, a soft wind blew, forcing their weary eyes to close in sleep. Even Arldrine and Ellagine, the strongest of the company, instead of keeping watch, fell under its charm.

  Scattered trees dotted the countryside, stretching their lofty branches to the heavens. Open meadows surrounded them like a blanket, although the four slept in a boggy part of the land. Exhaustion threatened to leave them sleeping all day and night as well.

  Eliesmore tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable on the spongy ground. A warning pricked his conscience, yet each time he regained a state of wakefulness, his eyes refused to open. Mud and water flooded his senses, and the birds sang above him, lulling him back to sleep. As he entered the realm of sleep where the distinction between life and dreams was impossible to find, the warning pulled him back to the surface, refusing to let him down.

  “Leave me alone,” Eliesmore mumbled, turning over. As he did, he felt a distinct shaking. Eliesmore sat up with a start, pulse pounding and eyes wide open. He jerked around, searching for the source, but he only saw the tall trees and his companions, passed out around him. Why were they sleeping so hard? Were they bewitched? A raven perched on the branch above him, spreading its ivy black feathers and calling. Its squawks sounded like “Run. Run. Run.”

  Eliesmore swallowed hard as he stood; his hands shook as he reached for his sword hilt. He backed away from the spot he had lain in, wondering why he was so frightened. “Wake up!” he cried, his voice hoarse with fear.

  They slept on, unconscious of his voice.

  “Ellagine,” he shouted. “Optimistic! Arldrine! Wake up!”

  A yellow bubble rose up on the ground and gave a queer belch as it popped. Several more appeared, dotting the area where Eliesmore and his companions slept.

  “Wake up!” he pleaded again, running to shake Ellagine first, then Optimistic, and finally Arldrine. “Please, you have to wake up!”

  The ground rolled like a blanket being spread out. With one last slurp, it began to sink.

  “Marshswamps,” Ellagine screamed as she woke, her eyes wide in panic. “Run!”

  Arldrine sat up, dazed with sleep, while Optimistic rolled over, groaning. “Move!” Ellagine shouted as she held up her hands, waiting for her power to flow and stem the rise of the swamps.

  Arldrine leaped to her feet just as the ground turned into quicksand. “What nightmare is this?” Arldrine demanded as she struggled to free herself.

  “It’s no nightmare.” Optimistic struggled beside her, only succeeding in sinking deeper.

  “Don’t move,” Ellagine warned. “We’ll get you out.” She held up her hands again, her eyes darting across the landscape in a sudden panic. As she did, the marshes snuck up to her feet and dragged her in. "Something is wrong." There was an edge to her voice. "My powers aren't working. Something is blocking them." Holding up her hands again, she snarled, only causing an aura of green to glow about her.

  “Help!” Eliesmore shrieked to the wind as he stood unharmed. “Somebody, help us!” The words left his mouth as the marshy ground rolled up to him. He clutched at a tree branch, kicking as he tried to hoist himself upwards. He thought he had a good grip and was beginning to escape when the tree branch snapped and down he fell into the marshes, the sour smell of acid and sulfur burning his eyes. He opened his mouth to shout for help when he heard a steady thumping. Voices lifted in song drew near. Arldrine and Optimistic began yelling and waving their arms.

  The marching and singing stopped. Eliesmore looked up to see
ten, stout, bearded males staring at them. They were only four feet tall with bushy, brown hair. When they saw the four sinking in the Marshswamps, they crossed their arms, swayed back and forth, and began to sing.

  “Novor Tur-Woodberry, Novor Tur-Woodberry,

  Please come and help our friends are stuck

  And sinking deep into trouble.

  Novor Tur-Woodberry, Novor Tur-Woodberry,

  They’re on your land, and you rule them

  So please come running quickly.”

  A seven-foot giant bounded across the meadow, carrying an ax in his hands. He held it up and bellowed. “Recede, recede oh Marshswamps of the Black Steeds. You are on my land. Release the prisoners and turn back!”

  Like a bad dream, the marshes ceased the deathly suction, erupting the four from its murky folds. The ground became firm, only leaving the travelers sticky from the foul swamp. Eliesmore backed away from the boggy ground, observing the giant who'd saved them. He was as thick as a tree trunk with sinewy arms and legs. His black boots were the size of tree roots, and his clothes were red like bark and green like leaves, giving him the appearance of having sprung from the trees. His beard and hair were the color of mud and were sprouting from his face like branches from a tree. Blue eyes twinkled as he threw back his head and roared with laughter. “That’s what they get for trespassing,” he boomed, leaning against his ax.

  The ten little men laughed as well and began to sing a merry jaunt, kicking up their heels and dancing in circles as they sang. “Novor Tur-Woodberry, Novor Tur-Woodberry.” They sang seven verses before pausing.

  Novor Tur-Woodberry spread out his massive hands; his blue eyes danced with excitement. “Come and dine at my house,” his jolly voice boomed. “Drink my wine. Smoke my pipe. My Singing Men will lead you to the house hidden in the glade. The one without the door. The rain is sweet, and the grass is fresh. Come along!” He bounded away, giving them no time to answer.