The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  “Ready?” A voice drifted to him, and it was a few seconds before he noticed Flywinger was speaking to him. Before he could reply, Flywinger stretched out his neck, picked up his hooves, and began to run. They dashed across the sand, sending sprays of grit flying out behind him. Eliesmore closed his eyes, leaning into the acceleration as moist wind slapped against his face. Their speed picked up until he felt a bouncing in his heart like he was flying. He heard the thunder of the Green Company as they tore up the beach. They were headed north to uncertain lands. Anxiety drifted away as an involuntary smile covered his face. He felt foolish as he grinned like an idiot. This must be the spirit of the Cron his mother had passed on to him: the desire to be out in the wild where adventure was his for the taking and the freedom of traveling through glorious lands where mysteries awaited. He basked in the knowledge he was not alone, only one of those seekers, those Treasure Hunters, one who would right the world. Something gave way in his heart, and he didn’t know how, but he found himself laughing like he was back in the glade singing and dancing with the creatures of the wood.

  Pink rays shot across the sky, and the horses slowed to a canter. The shores had long since faded, leaving the water of Oceantic naught but a dream. Pale grasses flowed over Sanga San, and Eliesmore was still burning with excitement when Idrithar called for a halt. Flywinger snorted, his body heaving as he caught his breath. Eliesmore tumbled off him, watching the white horses drift away. The horses grazed in the grass, their noses searching for fresh water. Unsure of what to do next, he turned and observed his companions. Glashar stood on a hill and watched the south with her arms folded across her chest. Idrithar walked up the slope toward her. His deep voice drifting to Eliesmore’s ears: “What do you see?”

  “Nothing yet.” Glashar’s eyes remained forward. “It is not safe. We should not tarry here long.”

  “Fastshed and company need a rest,” Idrithar agreed. “We eat here and then move on.”

  Glashar gave him a brief nod as he walked away, staying where she was.

  Eliesmore turned to the west. Dathiem and Zhane were walking among the white horses. Curious, Eliesmore observed as they went to each one, patting their backs, rubbing their noses, and speaking with them. Before he could question their actions, he was distracted by a whiff of smoke. Yamier was standing over a fire, poking at something in a hole he’d created below the fire. Optimistic and Wekin sat cross-legged on the ground near him. Optimistic waved his hands as he talked, and Wekin laughed as he picked at the grass, tossing it aside to create a mud pile for himself. Further north, Arldrine stood with Ellagine and Visra. They strode down the hill and disappeared out of sight. “Eliesmore!” Optimistic waved a hand over his head. “Come join us.”

  By the time Eliesmore reached them, he could see Wekin drawing a map of the Eastern Hill Countries in the dirt. “How did you learn how to do that?” he asked, staring at the details of hill and forest.

  “My father was a mapmaker.” Wekin’s blue eyes drifted before they focused and a grin came to his face. “He taught me. It’s the one skill I have.” He laughed. “And likely the only reason Idrithar let Yamier and me come along. I’m a mapmaker, and Yamier is a cook. We can’t do much else.”

  “Don’t discredit your talent,” Optimistic encouraged.

  “What about your weapons?” Eliesmore’s noted Wekin’s sword.

  Wekin shrugged. “I don’t think I can fight. I have a sword, but I am terrible at using it, despite Zhane's instruction.”

  “I don’t know how to use mine either,” Eliesmore admitted. “It’s mostly out of fear, I think.”

  “What?” Dropping his stick, Wekin jumped up, and his mouth hung open. “But you’re the One. You are supposed to know everything. How can you be the One if you don’t even know how to fight?”

  “Aye!” Yamier walked over. “Wekin keep it down.” He glanced around to see who had seen the outburst. “I see Idrithar looking over here. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

  “I don’t care,” Wekin announced, sticking his nose in the air. He turned back to Eliesmore. “What did you learn growing up?”

  Eliesmore sat down, surprised and offended by Wekin’s outburst. It only confirmed his suspicions. How was he supposed to be the One if he didn’t know the languages of the world, how to fight, or even how to navigate? “My mother told me tales of the Heroes of Old,” he began. Wekin’s curious blue eyes caused his memories to unlock. “Every year we planted a garden. I know how to make plants grow and how to harvest them, and I do know a thing or two about cooking.” He squared his shoulders, feeling better about himself. “I think my mother knew I was the One; she kept me close. The only time I was away from her was when I snuck out to dance with the Iaens and creatures of the wood.”

  “You did what?” Wekin rocked forward on his knees. “Tell me about it!” he demanded.

  Optimistic, who had been looking off north, turned back to their conversation. “I’ve been curious about this as well. Eliesmore, the Iaens will not permit anyone to enter their wood, much less dance with them. How did it happen?”

  Eliesmore smiled. Here was one secret and one advantage he had over the others. “It used to happen each night,” he began, eyes glowing as he leaned forward. He described for Wekin and Optimistic the gathering of animals on the hill and the trail to the forest. Yamier joined when he explained in great detail the Iaens and the enchanting music they played. It seemed a dream of long ago, and he wished with all his heart he could be back in the middle of glory. Words fell flat, and he was unable to convey the sensation of life it gifted him. When he finished, he sat back, and the joy evaporated from his face.

  “And now they are gone,” Wekin burst out in dejection. “No more to song and dance.”

  Optimistic patted him on the shoulder. “At least we have three of them with us; maybe they will restore the glory days.”

  Idrithar cleared his throat behind them. “Come now. We need to eat so we can move on.”

  “Move on?” Yamier’s mouth dropped open, and he stared from Idrithar to the fire.

  “What? We just stopped,” Wekin spluttered, recovering his tongue much faster than Yamier did. “We don’t even get to sleep?”

  Idrithar leaned on his walking staff, weary for a moment. “Yamier, I know the Mermis packed a special meal for this moment. It should be done cooking. Put out the fire and serve it so we can leave.” With that statement, he turned and walked away.

  Wekin turned to Eliesmore; his dark blue eyes were wide. “Can you believe it? He wants to go!”

  Optimistic burst out laughing, rocking back and forth.

  Eliesmore shrugged. “On my way to the fortress, we ran all day and half the night. Even then, we got up early to run on.”

  “What?” Wekin sat back, fanning himself. “Weren’t you tired?”

  Eliesmore frowned. “Yes, the Rakhai were hunting us though; we had to keep going.”

  “Eh?” Wekin grunted. “I did not sign up for all this traveling with no sleep. I need my rest. Do you think Idrithar will recant?”

  “Wekin.” Optimistic snorted. “You can’t be serious! This is a quest. Please don’t ask Idrithar; he’ll make you go back.”

  Wekin huffed. “I suppose. Optimistic, you should have explained what this quest involved.”

  “Would you have changed your mind?” Optimistic grinned as he stood, dusting off his pants.

  “No…” Wekin jumped up. “At least we get to eat, aye, Optimistic?”

  Yamier kicked over the fire and smothered it with the grass. Using a stick, he dug out what he’d been cooking and began to hand food out. As if a bell had sounded, the rest of the company began to gather, lining up behind Yamier’s fire as he handed a parcel to each one. Optimistic walked over to Eliesmore, holding two flat leaves with what looked like a loaf of round bread. He held out one to Eliesmore. “Oh, I’m not hungry.” Eliesmore waved it away.

  Optimistic raised an eyebrow before sticking the bread right under Eliesm
ore’s nose. “Smell that? How about now?”

  Despite himself, his mouth watered as he smelled the yeast on the bread and the heavy tang of meat and vegetables. He opened the leaf and bit into the bread. It melted in his mouth, and a few drops of gravy dribbled down his chin. He took another bite into carrots and beef, humming in satisfaction. He hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until he opened them and saw Visra smirking down at him. His throat grew dry, and his hunger faded.

  “Visra, join us.” Optimistic waved his hand. “Eliesmore, have you been introduced to Visra yet?”

  Eliesmore choked and coughed. How could Optimistic be so warm with the terrible Jesnidrain? “We’ve met,” he croaked out.

  “Yes, this morning in fact,” Visra confirmed. Lifting her stuffed bread, she took an enormous bite, her cheeks bulging as she chomped down her meal.

  “Relish it, Visra.” Optimistic laughed at her. “You can’t be that hungry.”

  Visra crossed her ankles. “Starving. Whatever we ate for the first meal was rubbish.” She pointed to Eliesmore, talking with her mouth full. “Optimistic, I think your friend is frightened of me.”

  Optimistic jerked his blond head to Eliesmore. “How come? Oh, Visra, did you try to frighten him? You know you shouldn’t greet people like that. Eliesmore, I promise she’s harmless.”

  Eliesmore could not tear his eyes away from Visra’s pointed teeth and the way her dark eyes glared at him. They were cold. How come Optimistic couldn’t see that?

  “Tell him my story,” Visra suggested to Optimistic, sticking her chin out at him. A chunk of meat got stuck in her teeth, and she reached a finger in, yanking it out and inspecting it before popping it back into her mouth.

  Optimistic had the decency to look slightly uncomfortable. He turned to Eliesmore as if Visra did not exist. “Visra used to be an assassin before the Idrains caught her. They took her powers away from her as punishment before letting her walk free. She has roamed the forests between Shimla and the fortress in Sanga San, waiting for you, I suppose. We have all been waiting for you, Eliesmore.”

  “Now you know.” Visra grinned suddenly and spread her hands. “Are you going to eat that?” She pointed at Eliesmore’s half-eaten meal.

  “Visra,” Optimistic warned. “Yamier has more if you are hungry.”

  Visra glanced toward Yamier, who was eating with Wekin and Arldrine. “I think not. Optimistic, did you bring me more songs?”

  Optimistic’s face reddened, but Eliesmore noticed the light in his eyes. “Err…no. We should write one about our journey.”

  “I would like that,” Visra said, and for the first time, Eliesmore saw a softness in her eyes. That must be what Optimistic saw.

  “We are writing a book of songs together,” Optimistic confided to Eliesmore. “But, please, don’t tell anyone. They’d laugh.”

  “Who would laugh?” Eliesmore smiled. He was happy to be confided in. “I think present company would be impressed.”

  Optimistic ducked his head and continued to smile, just as a piercing whistle split the air. “Prepare to travel!” Idrithar called.

  Visra jumped as if she’d been burned. Spreading her wings, she strode away without another word.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Optimistic said, noticing Eliesmore’s shudder as he watched her. “She’s harmless.”

  Yamier and Wekin walked up to them, tugging their packs onto their backs. “I already miss the Mermis.” Yamier pouted.

  “You can go back to the fortress.” Wekin nudged him. “And miss out on the adventure and lack of sleep.” He narrowed his eyes in Idrithar’s direction.

  Zhane walked by. He paused when he saw Wekin’s map. “We don’t need Wekin to get into trouble today,” he muttered, brushing away the map with his hands and covering the bare patch with grass.

  “Zhane.” Eliesmore walked over to the tall Tider.

  “Yes?”

  “I never learned how to sword fight properly. Will you teach me?”

  “Yes, along with Wekin and Yamier. We must all be able to fight well.” He looked ahead, and his eyes darkened. “We know not what lies ahead.”

  As soon as Zhane finished speaking, they both heard a faraway howl. A deeper one sounded, vibrating across the ground and chilling Eliesmore as his eyes met Zhane’s. “Danger.” The word dropped from Zhane’s lips.

  Eliesmore nodded at him, feeling a kinship toward the Tider as they shared a mutual feeling of endangerment. “We should go,” Eliesmore added. He felt his heartbeat quickening; the rigid stiffness was back. He never had a moment to relax or to bask in the enjoyment of the adventure. Turning, he snatched up his pack and fled toward the white horses. Flywinger trotted forward to meet him.

  “To the horses. Now!” Dathiem stern voice swept through the air, leaving no choice except obedience.

  Eliesmore saw Arldrine ahead. She dived onto one of the horses and leaned over his neck, her legs curled up over the horses back. Her mount took the lead, hooves kicking up chunks of dirt as they fled over the rolling hills. For a moment, Eliesmore wished he were taller and faster. Flywinger nuzzled his shoulder and knelt, allowing Eliesmore to mount with ease. “Thank you,” he breathed, watching Flywinger’s ears twitch.

  Behind him, he heard Wekin cry, “Wait for us! We can’t get on the horses quite as fast as you can.” There was a clear note of fear zinging through his voice.

  Eliesmore turned as Flywinger rose beneath him. He watched Zhane give Wekin a leg up and Dathiem toss Yamier onto a horse before they ran to their own mounts. No sooner had the company set off when they heard two more howls, one right after the other. Their screams were closer to the Green Company. Fastshed and his herd did not waste any time. Refreshed, their legs surged forward, turning from a canter into a full gallop. Like a strong wind in a storm, they skimmed through the grass with the horses’ hooves touching the ground for mere seconds. As they traveled farther, Eliesmore began to relax. The way the horses were running reminded him of a song Optimistic has sung their first night of travel. It was a time which seemed so long ago. The words: “here we go like falling thunder” seemed quite relevant to the way the horse hooves pounded the ground, knocking the grass flat. They galloped for a while as the night turned black; the stars were hidden by clouds. The moon came sulkily out to watch the goings down below, yet it often hid behind clouds. From far above, those down below looked like white shadows hastily covering the ground.

  35

  Eliesmore

  Much later, perhaps toward the midnight hour, Eliesmore saw Glashar, who was riding near him, turn back. A ray of moonlight caught her face, showing him her wide eyes. Twining his fingers through Flywinger’s mane, he dared a glimpse back, yet his eyes saw nothing. Glashar rose on her mount, shouting in the Iaen language: “Ti hítíer retítíh fatverívóg govírevatfi.”

  The horses slowed down and circled, prancing in place and giving their riders a moment to convene. “What do you see out there Glashar?” Idrithar asked, taking charge of the situation.

  “They are coming,” she said, her voice falling into the shadows of the night.

  No one asked who or what was coming. A sinking dread filled Eliesmore. He knew. “We ride northwest!” Idrithar ordered. Fastshed led the way across the wild lands; his company reared and leaped with ferocity behind him. The grass grew shorter beneath their hooves; trees and bushes dotted the landscape, creating obstacles to gallop around.

  Eliesmore shut his eyes, hesitant to believe the Rakhai were there. Where had they come from? How had they found the Green Company so quickly? Hadn’t the Mermis cloaked their journey in secrecy? He closed his eyes, feeling the wind rush across his face. Turning his neck, he opened them.

  At first, he saw nothing except the silvery shadows of night. Relief flooded through his body, and just as he turned away, one of the shadows leaped. He saw it clearly in a beam of moonlight: a black creature, much like a panther. It kept pace with the horses, although its body was low to the ground. Eliesmore could
see the creature leaping over bushes without a thought, yet it was the being on top of the panther that made his heart grow cold. The Monrages had returned, silently surrounding the Green Company on the red-eyed creatures. Eliesmore tore his eyes away, unsure what to do. Should he warn the others? Could they see their doom at their feet, running beside them?

  Ahead of him, Eliesmore saw one of the panthers leap, claws out, as it swiped at one of the horses. Flywinger whined in fear and changed course, jumping over a bush and gaining speed. In a blur, Eliesmore saw the other horses spreading out, attempting to escape. A howl echoed through the night behind him, and a horse crashed into the underbrush, screaming in fear and possibly pain. Eliesmore dropped one hand to his sword hilt, losing his balance as Flywinger jumped over shrubbery. Eliesmore bounced like a bag of potatoes. One hand gripped the Jeweled Sword. He drew it just as Flywinger ran under the low-hanging branch of a tree. Pain shot through his face as the branch lashed him, forcing drops of blood to drip from his head. Using the back of his sword hand, he brushed it out of his eyes and raised his sword. He could hear Flywinger laboring as he dashed toward the trees. Glashar was standing in the entrance of the wood with the white horse she had been riding. They looked like a formidable pair because Glashar was glowing gold with fury. She lifted her bow and sent a white arrow flying through the air toward one of the black panthers.