Zhane frowned, looking down the hill. “Do you think that is wise?”
Dathiem gave a short laugh. “No. I’ve wanted to have a word with you. In private.”
Silence.
“About?” Zhane prompted Dathiem to continue.
Dathiem felt his shoulders slump. He took a deep breath, letting the words he did not want to say bite the air. “You know we have to kill the immortals once we get to Castle Range.”
Zhane’s eyes traveled back down to the encampment, flicking to Glashar and Ellagine, who sat at the base of a hill with theirs heads together in the middle of a discussion. Visra was with Wekin and Yamier, either making fun of them or tempting them with dangerous stories. “Do you mean the Changers or our friends, the Iaen?”
Dathiem let his gaze fall on Glashar, wondering if she could feel his eyes on her. She seemed to think his thoughts, to know when he was thinking about her, and to come to him when words were on the tip of his tongue. “Our friends, the Idrains,” he repeated softly. Even before the words left his mouth, Zhane was shaking his head. “You know why,” Dathiem added.
“Dathiem.” Zhane’s tone was even as he explained. “What you are saying is madness. We cannot slay our friends; we would be no better than the Changers and Black Steeds. It’s not up to us to curb their actions.”
“Don’t you understand?” Dathiem threw his hands in the air, frustrated at having to justify himself. “The Iaens are the reason Changers exist. You know the Green People started this. First they saved Sarhorr, the Ruler, when he went through the portal in the Western World. Then, to add insult to injury, they came here, to the South World, and allowed Magdela the Monrage to rise up from their midst. Time and time again, every occurrence that calls for redemption is because of the Green People, the immortals. What do you think will happen when we reach Castle Range and Eliesmore dissolves the Green Stone? He is weak! He doesn’t have a mind of his own; he does whatever we tell him to do. Look at him, notice who his closest friends are. Do you think it’s a coincidence that Ellagine, Lady of the Green People, found him first? Don’t you think it’s odd that Iaens, who never interfere with mortals, now find it in their best interest to join us in ridding the world of Changers? Don’t you see that Changers threaten the Iaen, and if the immortals can use a dispensable mortal to rid themselves of Changers, they will? Eliesmore, however, is different. He is the One. You know the power of the Green Stone. Once he unleashes it, he will be the most powerful being in all the Four Worlds. If you were immortal, wouldn’t you want to control the One who dissolves the Green Stone? Wouldn’t you brainwash him so he will answer your every beck and call? That’s what they are doing!”
Dathiem forced himself to stop, although he was shaking with rage. He felt flecks of spit on his cheeks and brushed them off, almost ashamed of his temper. He was sure, though, that Zhane would see how he felt about it. Zhane would understand. He clenched his fists. “They have to die before the Green Stone is dissolved. We need to control what happens next.”
Beside him, Zhane appeared quite calm. One of his hands grasped his sword hilt as he considered. “I understand, Dathiem. Only what would you propose we do? I am disinclined to murder our friends.”
“That’s why I wanted to discuss with you. What would you propose? We both know you are more…soft-hearted than I.”
“Yet you are the one who is in love with an Idrain.” Zhane was quick to point out the irony. “The immortals will have to return to their forests after a time. When they do, we shall go on with Eliesmore. I will get close to him while you distract the Iaens. It is important that Eliesmore understands the ways of the mortals. It is true; he is adaptable in his thinking right now. I hope, in time, he will come to have a mind of his own.”
“I cannot distract the Iaen alone,” Dathiem mumbled. “Glashar and Visra loathe each other, and Ellagine is distant.”
“Do what you can. Have you discussed this with Idrithar?”
Dathiem shook his head. “Not in detail like this. I tried…Perhaps you will succeed.”
“Humm.” Zhane rose. “Dathiem, promise me you will not murder any of our companions.”
“I promised to protect the One,” Dathiem countered as he stood beside his best friend.
Zhane put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “My friend, you have been through enough already. Don’t torment yourself with this choice. Leave it to me.”
Dathiem nodded, his eyes growing dark as Zhane alluded to his past. Zhane turned to walk down the hill, yet Dathiem’s words stopped him. “Don’t you think you should stop tormenting yourself?”
Zhane paused, half turning back. “What do you mean?”
A soft smile came to Dathiem's lips, leaving no traces of his earlier anger. “When it comes to Arldrine.”
Zhane frowned. “Given the discussion we just had, it would be foolish. I will send Glashar to you with food. Keep watch.”
Dathiem knew he had crossed a line. Regret washed through his mouth. He watched Zhane walk away before pivoting to observe the landscape. The relief of having shared his concerns with Zhane faded as he watched dark shadows form on the horizon.
40
Arldrine
Arldrine crossed her arms, watching Zhane and Dathiem’s heated discussion on the hilltop. With a frown, she turned back to Yamier and Wekin as they cooked. She let their endless chatter wash over her. Zhane was ignoring her. Perhaps she had misunderstood the discussion they’d had before they left the fortress. She shrugged. Conceivably, it was the lack of conversation. She’d hoped they would be friends and was not expecting to be hit with a wall of silence. Zhane marched down the hill; his expression was guarded. Seizing the moment, she turned to meet him. “Zhane, have you eaten?”
He shook his head as he met her at the bottom of the hill. “Not yet.” His words came out thick and harsh.
When she got closer, she could see a storm of fury on his face. “What’s wrong?”
He brushed past her, his eyes barely seeing her. “Nothing. I must speak with Ellagine.”
Arldrine bit her lip in disappointment, letting her hands drop. She told herself it did not matter. Zhane had his duties as she had hers. It was better if they did not speak. She cast one final glance in Zhane’s direction. He was already deep in conversation with Ellagine and Glashar. No longer hungry, she walked uphill to join Dathiem.
He jumped when she appeared beside him. He was muttering under his breath before she arrived. “Oh, it’s you.” He smiled at her, turning his lips up and not letting his teeth show.
“Who did you think it was?” Arldrine glanced down the hill and back to Dathiem in confusion.
“Zhane or…Glashar.” He spoke her name gently as if she might hear if he spoke it too loudly.
Arldrine sat down, stretching her legs over the rippling grass. He joined her, taking a sip from a flask before holding it out to her.
“Ah, you’re still drinking,” she observed, eyeing the flask before taking a long draught from it. A calming sensation rushed through her body. She closed her eyes, letting the cares and worries of the quest fade away. “Thanks.” She handed it back to Dathiem.
He tucked it away, nodding. “I know I shouldn’t but…” He shrugged, staring off into the hills.
They sat quietly for a few moments. Neither felt the urge to fill the air with useless words. Arldrine lay back, propping herself up on her elbows.
“How are you holding up?” Dathiem inquired.
“How are all of us holding up?” she deflected, unwilling to talk about her emotions.
“Our progress is slow. I have my suspicions.” He shrugged.
“There are many of us.” Arldrine gestured down the hill. “And it’s true we all have our own concerns and motives. As long as we keep our final goal in mind and as long as we trust each other, we will be okay.”
Dathiem’s face reddened. He reached for his flask. “What if some of us aren’t trustworthy?”
“We are the only ones left,” s
he argued. “We cannot fail. There is no life and no law. The Wise Ones have forsaken us. The Watchers stay hidden in their land.”
“I know,” he interrupted her. “It’s the west…I worry what will happen when we reach the west.”
Arldrine hummed a response, knowing Dathiem and Zhane came from the west. They were like brothers, having grown up in a town near the mountains until the Black Steeds invaded once and for all. “When I was at the home of Novor Tur-Woodberry and his Singing Men, Fúlishités, as they call them, he mentioned the west. Dathiem…” Her voice grew urgent. “Are there mankind in the west?”
“Men?” Dathiem froze, the word piercing the air like a blade.
“Yes. Humans.”
“The race of men,” Dathiem spoke in awe, facing Arldrine. “Why do you ask?”
“After Eliesmore dissolves the Green Stone, we will need an army to fight the Changers and the Black Steeds. If there are men and if they are real, we could use their help.”
Dathiem watched the horizon, considering. “What makes you think they will help us? After all, Novor Tur-Woodberry and his Singing Men will not come to our aid.”
“It’s because they cannot,” Arldrine explained. “If they leave the land they were given, the Land of Lock, their power will fade, and they will become like us.”
“Power.” Dathiem opened his hand as if expecting vestiges of power to manifest.
“They have hidden themselves well if they exist. Where is there to hide in the west?”
“If you seek men,” Dathiem told her. “You should go to the western mountain ranges. Perhaps you can ask Wekin to draw us a map, and I will point it out to you.”
“Or you can just come with me,” Arldrine suggested.
Dathiem smiled and then chuckled. “Perhaps you should ask Zhane.”
Arldrine grimaced; her eyes were drawn back down the hill to where Zhane and Idrithar were deep in conversation. “I will go alone. You and the others will be busy helping Eliesmore.”
“There is an army coming from the Western World. You don’t think they will be enough?”
Arldrine shook her head. “Something tells me we need to prepare for the worst.”
“Am I interrupting?” Glashar’s questioning voice invaded their conversation.
“No,” Arldrine responded. Her black hair stirred in a slight breeze, dancing behind her back.
“Glashar,” Dathiem breathed, his tone a mix of desire and relief.
“I brought food.” Glashar handed a leaf of food to Arldrine and one to Dathiem before sitting down beside Dathiem.
“Oh,” Arldrine exclaimed under her breath. Everything made sense as she looked from Glashar’s flushed face to Dathiem’s expression. She stood. “Thank you, Dathiem, for the information.”
“Where are you going?” Glashar asked. “Sit with us.”
Arldrine glanced at them again, stepping away. “I think not. I must rejoin the young Crons.” She spun, striding down the hill before either could utter another word. It was not her place to warn them, yet she feared their attraction for each other would distract them from the quest.
41
Eliesmore
Eliesmore opened his eyes to pink streaks in the sky. He smiled lazily, watching the glory of dawn fade into a morning rich with beauty. Droplets of dew graced the rich green grass, and he propped himself up on his elbows. Everything came crashing back in an instant; he wasn’t at home with his mother nor had he just returned from dancing with the creatures of the wood. The shadow of fear crept up as he glanced around at his companions.
Optimistic slept beside him, but Yamier and Wekin had vacated their spots, leaving only their packs behind. Eliesmore studied their campsite. Zhane and Dathiem sat with their backs against the hill, eating apples. Ellagine sat with Glashar while Arldrine was speaking to Visra. From the way they waved their arms, it seemed they were arguing. Fastshed and company were grazing in the distance. Idrithar sat on a hilltop. His staff was in his lap, and he had a grave expression on his bearded face.
Eliesmore strapped his sword to his back as he walked toward Zhane. “Where are Yamier and Wekin?”
Zhane looked up, chewing nosily. “We don’t know. Idrithar thinks they have gone to the village.”
“The village? But why? Wasn’t someone watching all night?”
Zhane shrugged, jerking his chin in the direction of Arldrine and Visra. “Yes, they disappeared during Visra’s watch, which is why we don’t think Black Steeds have anything to do with their disappearance. Idrithar is keeping watch should they return.”
Eliesmore recalled Idrithar’s words. Those who are lost remain lost. He walked up the gentle incline and sat down beside Idrithar. “I think they will return,” Eliesmore said, watching the dark blur in the distance that must be the village.
“If they don’t return soon, they will be left behind,” Idrithar announced with finality.
Eliesmore frowned and strained his eyes, hoping the two would make it back. “Look down there,” he pointed.
Idrithar stood up and leaned on his staff, his expression did not change as he nodded. “Yes, here they come. They have been into the village for sure, stirring up trouble.”
Yamier and Wekin were running and carrying sacks of something. They came up the hill, smiling triumphantly.
“What have you got there?” Idrithar demanded as they started down the hill to join the others.
“It smells delicious,” called Optimistic, determined to make light of the situation and delay Idrithar’s anger.
The others got up, grabbed their packs, and surrounded the two Crons. They were curious to hear their story.
“Bacon!” Wekin announced, waving his sack. “There’s plenty for all!”
Eliesmore could visibly see the relief in the air at the very words. He glanced at his companions, slightly confused at their hungry expressions. Unbeknownst to him, bacon was a great favorite among Crons and Tiders; Iaens, though, did not particularly care for it.
“And sausage,” Yamier added. He sat down and opened his sack.
“We went from house to house, so we got a lot.” Wekin dug his hands into the bag and began to pass out thick, juicy slices of bacon.
“We got the people to cook it for us, too. That’s what took so long,” Yamier put in.
“And probably told everyone what we are about,” Zhane remarked dryly.
“No, we actually didn’t. Idrithar warned us last night, so we just told them we are weary travelers,” Wekin defended himself between bites.
“Weary travelers?” Dathiem laughed at the irony. “We hardly have been gone.”
“Yamier. Wekin.” Idrithar folded his arms. “We were about to leave without you. If you attempt to risk the quest on something as trivial as bacon and sausage, we will leave you behind.”
Wekin looked up at the sky as if to ask it why he always got himself into trouble.
The sacks of bacon and sausage continued to circulate, and Wekin even went so far as to offer some to Fastshed and company. They simply looked at the bag, and one said, “Bacon and sausage? We’ll settle for grass.”
The Green Company laughed and continued eating. But before long, Idrithar stood. “We must go now and eat on the way. Instead of traveling through the village, it is better we go around it, lest anyone should recognize Yamier and Wekin.”
Zhane stood up and picked up his pack. The horses stopped between mouthfuls of grass. “Are you wanting to ride?” Fastshed asked.
“No, eat your meal. We will ride later,” Idrithar replied. He swung his pack on his back and started up the hill.
The others hastily jumped up and stuffed their mouths full before grabbing their packs and following Idrithar. Once down the last hill, they walked toward the south to go around the village. It was small. Still, going around it was slightly out of their way.
Eliesmore could not keep his mind on food. He ate only a little of the delicious bacon and sausage and declined more, even though the smell of bacon h
ung in the air.
Glashar was displeased about it. “At this rate,” she complained, “anyone can smell us from far away.”
“Then we leave the sacks. They are almost empty. We can leave them here,” Yamier suggested hopefully.
“In the middle of the grass, I think not,” Zhane said.
Wekin began to lag behind. He felt sorry now for their adventure to get bacon because it seemed to have turned the company against him. Yamier did not look too happy either.
“White steeds!” A cry rent the air. People ran out of the village and headed toward the company. Their faces were angry, and they carried pitchforks, axes, and other tools that could also be used for fighting.
“Ashíea asíhsa! Why are those people following us?” Dathiem cried.
The Green Company halted, standing together. Fastshed and his company were a distance away, eating grass, when they realized the danger.
Zhane's eyes fell on Yamier and Wekin. “They must know we are White Steeds. After all, we are traveling with white horses.” Zhane pointed.
“Why would they want to harm us?” Eliesmore inquired.
“They are angry that we are White Steeds in a Black Steed’s world. We must run,” Idrithar stated.
Ellagine shimmered pale green. She called, “Wistfes seftisws mocteo etomoc.”
Fastshed and company turned and cantered toward the group. The people’s cries grew louder as they quickly ran toward the small group of White Steeds.
“We’ll have to ride fast,” Idrithar told the horses as they came up.
“Mount up, and we will go. We shall go no faster than slow gallop; we have just eaten,” Fastshed answered.
“A canter will do fine,” Idrithar said as he leaped onto Fastshed’s back.
Eliesmore hurried over to Flywinger who still had grass sticking out of his mouth. Flywinger knelt as Eliesmore mounted. He called, “Come ride with me, Optimistic.”
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 86