The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  She was young. Her eyes grew soft. “That is a terrible fate. Do you deserve it?”

  He gazed at her, studying her delicate bone structure. It was her ears; they were smaller than most Green People. “Yes.” His hushed tones swept through the silence, shattering the spell that lay in the room.

  She opened her mouth, surprised again at his admission of guilt. “What are your crimes?”

  He felt as if he stood before a grand inquisitor. “I have made my life a quest for power.”

  “Power.” The word fell from her lips like a stone. She smiled, a light coming into her strange eyes. “Then you must know that we cannot leave.”

  Inwardly, he groaned. Outwardly, he let his expression stay neutral. “You know something I don’t?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, turning her back to him once more and spreading her arms. “This is the place where the Green Stone will be dissolved.”

  A lightning bolt of hope stuck his body, and he could not help the sneer that appeared on his lips. Her back was still turned, which gave him a moment to rearrange his expression. “The Green Stone?” He shrugged his shoulders as if he did not care.

  “Yes…” Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she met his gaze. “Surely you know this?”

  “I know many things, yet I suspect you also know many things. Perhaps we may help each other?”

  The smile she gave him sent a flurry of feelings rushing through his body.

  26

  Eliesmore

  Seven days later, Zhane, Arldrine, Eliesmore, Optimistic, Ellagine, and Glashar traveled quickly through the country of Sanga San near Oceantic. They were close to the fortress, and Eliesmore was both nervous and excited. He’d lived a lonely life with no friends or knowledge of social mannerisms, aside from those of the enchanting Iaens. Now he was going to meet the people groups. There would be individuals like him who believed prophecies concerning the One and the Green Stone.

  The sky was as clear as a blue sapphire that day, and the grass blazed green like an emerald. Leaves had managed to grow on trees, although spring had produced no flowers. A profound silence penetrated the land because this was not a season of new birth and life. The animals were hiding because none should be born into such a world as the South World.

  A shimmering body of water appeared in the distance, and Eliesmore assumed it was Oceantic, which meant he had come clear across the Eastern Hill Countries. As they descended into a thick mass of underbrush, Oceantic was hidden from view.

  Warm rays of the sun danced across Eliesmore’s face, a reminder the hot months would come as they traveled. Eliesmore questioned how long it would take to reach the Constel Heights. Thoughts were pushed out of his head when he saw something ahead. No, it was nothing. Blinking, he looked again, swearing he saw something camouflaged in the undergrowth. A few minutes later, they came out of the underbrush and stood before it. The fortress rose high above them; it was built in the time of Magdela the Monrage. It served as a place of safety and protection for the White Steeds, a home where they could lick their wounds and grow their numbers. As Eliesmore gazed at it in awe, he could hardly believe so few White Steeds lived there. The white stones of the fortress seemed impenetrable compared to the small hut he’d grown up in. Curious, he wondered why his mother had chosen to live where they did instead of joining the White Steeds in their great fortress.

  Zhane stopped and pointed. “There it stands. We thought it was going to fall when the Black Steeds raided it, killing many a brave friend. But we are still here to tell the tales of what happened then. I hope there will always be White Steeds to guard this fortress.”

  “Me, too,” Eliesmore echoed, eyes bulging as they moved forward again.

  White stairs as wide as a tree trunk led the way upward to the fortress, where white columns decorated its gates. The roof was covered in green the color of leaves while the sides of the building were brown like tree bark. The back of the fortress was blue, causing it to be easily mistaken for the sky or waters of Oceantic. Eliesmore slowed down as he gazed at it, wondering how it had gotten so many colors. Did the Daelidrains have anything to do with it? Nevertheless, it was better than his expectations. He felt like a hero of old when they discovered great mysteries of the past and basked in their glory. He could feel the anticipation bubbling within in as he gazed at the building. Turning to his left, he glanced at Optimistic who was staring at the building. His face was still, and his eyes were dark.

  “What is it?” Eliesmore probed.

  “It’s like coming home.” Optimistic’s voice was sad. “Except to an empty home because so many have been killed.”

  Eliesmore turned back to the fortress with a new air of respect. “I suppose this is my home now, too.”

  “One day you will understand.” Optimistic nodded, shaking his shoulders as if he could simply shake off grief.

  “If I ever do get back,” Eliesmore mumbled under his breath.

  They walked up the high stairs with reverence. As they reached the colonnade, held upright by white columns, the doors to the fortress were flung open. A boom thudded across the forest as the male who’d opened the doors shouted: “Zhane, you’re back!” He grinned. His eyes were alight with joy as he spoke, “Optimistic, you returned. You left without saying goodbye.” He shook his finger at Optimistic.

  “Arldrine.” He winked inappropriately at her.

  His light brown curls danced on his forehead. His dark blue eyes sparkled with mischief. He had long cheekbones, a high forehead, and long lashes that swept down toward his rosy cheeks as he blinked. He was only five and a half feet tall and quite young, barely over seventeen, if that.

  “You brought…” He stared at Eliesmore, Ellagine, and Glashar. Unable to recall their names, he continued, sweeping out his hands to include them. “Everyone with you! I was wondering. Idrithar said you would be returning for a council or something. I don't know. Don’t just stand there. Come in! There is nothing much to do here. It is very boring, waiting for people and meetings and such. Oh, eleven white horses joined us seven days ago, and the Mermis are back now. They went off to seek some wisdom of the world or something like that. I don’t know. I thought everyone was going to leave Yamier and me alone at the fortress, but now that you’re here it’s getting exciting. Oh, and…”

  The Cron would have talked all day, but Zhane put a hand over his mouth. “Thank you Wekin. Where is Idrithar? Go find him for me, please, and do not talk his ears off.”

  “Yes, of course!” Wekin clapped his hands together and ran off.

  Zhane led them into a large room with a winding staircase that led upwards. On the left side, a passage led into the fortress. The rest of the room was open space, rock, and stone, with a scattering of wooden chairs. Zhane motioned to them. “Rest for a moment.” He sighed. “Wekin is…” He shook his head and started again. “Yamier and Wekin are excitable. They need more adventure in life; however, we will be leaving them here. Idrithar is our leader; he holds more power than any other White Steed, and he carries the Horn of Shilmi as well as a sword called Elidíather. He and I traveled the South World many times together. I tell you,” he addressed his last words to Eliesmore, “I only saw the fountain where the Green Stone is to be dissolved once.”

  Eliesmore barely heard Zhane as he gazed at the massive room. A tall Cron appeared at the top of the stairs, pausing as he gazed down at the small company. He wore the usual green pants, white shirt, and a green jerkin. A sword in a black scabbard swung by his side. His face lightened when he saw the company. His light brown hair swished behind him as he moved. “Welcome, welcome friends,” he called as they rose to meet him. The nuances of his low voice carried across the room, warm assurance dripping from his voice. “Zhane, you have returned.” He reached out a hand to clasp Zhane’s shoulder and turned to the others, greeting them in turn. “Arldrine, it is a relief to see you here; we are thankful for your return. Optimistic, I see you have done what you set out to do. Glashar, it is a pleasu
re and a surprise. Ellagine.” His calm voice never wavered, yet his eyes flashed as he met hers. “You have brought him.”

  Eliesmore stood straighter as the powerful gaze of the Cron swept over him. He thrust out his chest, anxious for acceptance. He felt the overwhelming need to impress the known leader of the White Steeds. His face flushed as he wondered why he—a young, inexperienced Blended One—was called to be the One. Those surrounding him were wise; they were warriors, and each one of them was better suited to the task.

  “Idrithar, this is Eliesmore. He is the One.” Zhane motioned toward Eliesmore.

  “Idrithar.” Eliesmore bowed his head, feeling the strength, wisdom, and power radiating from the Cron.

  Idrithar’s dark eyes studied him as if he could read Eliesmore’s mind. Finally, he stepped back, nodding as if Eliesmore had passed a test. “He is indeed the One, Eliesmore, the Great Conqueror.”

  Idrithar’s voice held them like a spell, and Eliesmore found himself leaning into it. A pleasant silence hummed throughout the fortress until a boisterous voice from upstairs hollered. “You didn’t tell me, Wekin. I told you to tell me first!”

  The spell was broken, and all eyes were lifted upward.

  “But he sent me to get Idrithar first and then you. I couldn’t help it,” the other voice shrieked with laughter.

  “I wanted to be the first one, and you had to beat me to it.”

  “Okay, okay, please stop,” the second voice begged. “We can go see them now.”

  A minute later Wekin and another Cron ran down the stairs, their clothes damp and rumpled. The Cron with Wekin had a short sword strapped to his waist. He was the same height as Wekin with dark brown eyes. His hair stood up straight on his head and was streaked with brown and blond, giving him a comical appearance. He dashed down the stairs and skidded to a stop. “Arldrine, Zhane, and Optimistic! Home again! And leaving when? Tomorrow?”

  “Or the day after that.” Idrithar’s tone turned dry with frustration. “You will have to dry up the floor after introductions.”

  Wekin and the other Cron looked at each other and grimaced. Idrithar moved to stand behind the two, placing one hand on Wekin’s shoulder. “Ellagine, Glashar, and Eliesmore, this is Wekin.” He put one hand on the other Crons’s shoulder. “And this is Yamier.”

  Zhane motioned to Ellagine. “This is Ellagine, Lady of the Green People, you may have met her before.” He motioned to Glashar. “Glashar the Falidrain.” He finally motioned to Eliesmore. “And this is Eliesmore, the One.”

  “Oh, ones.” Wekin’s eyes grew large. “I’ve never heard of that people group.”

  Yamier stared at Wekin. “Shh, he’s the One that ‘Song’ is sung about.”

  “And furthermore,” Optimistic added, “he’s a Cron.”

  “He doesn’t look…” Wekin started, but Yamier clasped a hand over his mouth.

  “Half Cron, half Tider,” Eliesmore explained.

  “Now Wekin,” Idrithar said with a stern look, “go dry up the floor.”

  “But…” Wekin started. Idrithar’s face was immovable. Wekin looked at Yamier, who gloated and put his nose in the air.

  “Yamier, make sure the meeting room is in order,” Idrithar told him.

  Yamier’s head came down fast, and the mischievous two ran off grumbling.

  No sooner had they disappeared then there was a quiet step, and someone cleared his throat. A male Tider walked up from the passageway, followed by eleven white horses. He was over six feet tall with rich dark brown hair. It was pulled back from his face yet cascaded down his back, nearly to his waist. His chiseled face was unsmiling, and his hawk-like gaze swept over them; it was dark and intense as if he disproved of everyone in the room. A quiver of white-tipped arrows was slung on his back along with a bow because everyone in the fortress carried their weapons in case of a surprise attack from the Black Steeds. His voice was deep and almost hostile as he spoke. “So, you have come.” He nodded, expressionless, at Zhane, Arldrine, Optimistic, and Ellagine. His dark eyes met Eliesmore’s and swept past him to Glashar for a long moment. “Who may they be?” He turned to Idrithar.

  Glashar stepped forward. Her eyes were wide in surprise or shock, Eliesmore could not tell. “I am Glashar the Falidrain. I used to stay here, if only for a few months.”

  “I am Eliesmore,” said Eliesmore quietly because being the One was implied.

  “You must be the One.” The Tider’s eyes narrowed. “May I see your sword?”

  Unsure what to make of the Tider, Eliesmore pulled out his long sword with the jeweled hilt. All turned to gaze at it and then at Eliesmore with respect and honor. The Tider kneeled before Eliesmore, just as Zhane had done. He looked up into the face of the One. “I am Dathiem—a warrior and a healer. I will come with you.”

  Idrithar motioned toward the stairs as Dathiem rose. “The day grows old. We shall sit together for the last meal and meet in the morning. For now, let us disperse so that the travelers may rest from their journey.” His words sank in; there would now be seven to go against the Rakhai as they began their quest. He turned to the horses. “Fastshed and company are welcome as well.”

  The horse called Fastshed moved his neck up and down, his silvery mane flashing. A slow thought occurred as Eliesmore considered the horses, they must be the ones sent to the South World to assist him and his companions. Puzzling at the turn of events, he followed his companions up the winding staircase, taking in the curving architecture of the fortress. The stairs ended in a spacious hall, allowing them to walk four or five in a row down to the meeting room at the end where there were another two doors. Idrithar opened one into a dark passageway where torches flickered in pools of light, showing off occasional doors. Yamier and Wekin were strutting down the hall toward them, mischievous grins on their faces as they elbowed each other.

  “There you two are.” Idrithar held open the door, waiting for them to pass. “The Mermis need barrels brought up to the kitchen before the last meal is prepared.”

  Wekin’s eyes became round. He opened his mouth to protest, but Yamier grabbed his arm and dragged him off. “Yes, yes, of course.” He flung his words over his shoulder at Idrithar.

  Idrithar pulled open another door. Before Eliesmore could follow the others through, Optimistic grabbed him. “Come on, I’ll take you to get a new shirt and tunic so you don’t have to wear this blood-stained one.”

  “Oh.” Eliesmore looked down at his travel-stained clothes as if seeing them for the first time. “Thank you.”

  “No need.” Optimistic led the way down the hall, his boots echoing in the silence. “What do you think?” he asked, spreading his arms.

  “What do I think?” Eliesmore repeated. “Why is it that so few White Steeds live here? This fortress seems impenetrable.”

  “Aye.” Optimistic sighed, his shoulders slumping. “We were attacked from the inside years ago. By then, everyone had given up, and that was our breaking point.”

  “I’m sorry,” Eliesmore whispered, realizing he did not know much about Optimistic’s background. “This is all quite terrible. I wish good people like you and others did not have to be involved. If the Dark Three had never risen, we would not be in this…” He broke off as visions of the torture chambers of the Torsilo Quarts flashed through his mind. He saw the red flesh, bone, and stripped backs. “It is too dark to speak of…” He gasped. Suddenly he felt hopeless; the number of White Steeds was so small. How could they possibly win against the strong power and many armies of the Black Steeds?

  “Eliesmore.” Optimistic paused, turning to face him. “Find a little hope. It could be just you and me, the Keeper of the Green Stone and the Finder of the Jeweled Sword. But it’s more; it’s all of us, from Idrithar to Wekin.”

  “You’re right,” said Eliesmore, suddenly finding Optimistic easy to confide in, “I feel I can’t see the way and I’m trapped deep underground. Much like I was when I was taken to the Black Steeds’ fortress in the Torsilo Quarts. I feel like I
am back in that tunnel of darkness and I will never see the light.”

  “But you did.” Optimistic patted his shoulder. “And you will find it again; do not despair.”

  Eliesmore studied Optimistic, unable to hide his astonishment. “It is such a dark time in the world, and yet you find hope.”

  “Eliesmore, I first came to this fortress when I was fifteen after the Black Steeds slew my parents and burned my home. I escaped, and here I found people to help me. When I first came to the fortress, there used to be great joy. As the world turns darker, I have seen some of my very best friends and the wisest leaders turn into Black Steeds to serve evil. I did not want a fate such as theirs; I had to remain strong and keep hoping the One would come soon. When I was seventeen, Ellagine left. However, in January, four years later, I remembered her, and I went to find her in Shimla. She told me what happened when she met you, and I set off to bring you back. Now here we are about to embark on our great quest. There are friends I will never see again. I have had experiences in this corrupt world and so will you. The most important lesson I have learned thus far is if you look for the light, you will find it. If you give up all hope, you will stay in darkness forever.”

  Eliesmore let the words sink in, washing over him like a cleansing rain. “Optimistic, I hope you are always here to encourage me.”

  When the two Crons reached the end of the passage, Optimistic opened a door into a cavernous room. Its ceiling rose high in an arch above their heads, while a musky scent swept over him as Eliesmore stepped inside. He gasped in surprise as his eyes took in the rows of shelves and weapons hanging on the wall. Swords were ranked in a corner; each hilt was polished until it shone. Bows of all sizes lined the back wall with quivers full of white arrows stacked in rows. It was curious to note that the weapons accommodated the various sizes of the people groups: some were made for those closer to five foot while others were made for taller people groups with greater strength. Shields of silver and gold, with the crest of a white horse rearing, lined one wall with spears beside them. There were blades, sharp and gleaming. A collection of arrowheads and steel lay in another corner, and there was a stone to sharpen weapons on.