“Time drifted by uneventfully. White Steeds came and went, and then the Black Steeds attacked our fortress. They killed many, including our strong leader, Uglar.” Zhane grew quiet. His face turned to stone, but his voice moved on, weaving the tale. “Idrithar took his place, and many of our friends, leaders of great wisdom, ran. It was a sad time. We recognized there was no safe place, and we always had to be on guard against the Black Steeds. There were less than fifteen of us left when Idrithar and I took our last journey.
“When Idrithar and I returned two years later, we met Arldrine, who had gone to live in Truemonix. She told us that when the One came—and Ellagine had told her he was coming soon—she would help him. We were saddened by her leaving, but we returned to the fortress anyway. In January, Optimistic left to find Ellagine. You know the rest. There were more attacks from the Black Steeds, the Rakhai rose, and now here we are. We are the only White Steeds left,” Zhane finished.
Eliesmore’s eyes were clouded with a mix of hope and sorrow. “We are the only ones left,” he repeated.
“Yes,” Zhane said absentmindedly. His mind drifted, thinking back to the days when the fortress was buoyant with life, laughter, and people groups. The animals called it home, and the mice carried the barrels that floated in from Oceantic. He recalled the cold mountain slopes, barren lands, dranagins under the mountain, and where the seven rivers met. He sighed as he thought of the terror he experienced in the Cave of Disappearance and the relaxation he felt in the Green World in the mountains. He remembered being trapped in the Constel Heights, the lonely freedom of the Monoxie meadows, and the fierce towers. He thought of Arldrine’s dark beauty, and his eyes drifted toward her. She was awake now, leaning against a tree. Her arms were folded around her waist as she talked to Ellagine.
Eliesmore disturbed his reprieve. “Ten years you traveled. I wonder how long it will take us to complete the three deeds.”
“We should get moving.” Zhane sniffed the air. “A storm is coming, and I fear it is a bad one.”
“How can you tell?” Eliesmore picked up his pack.
“Sometimes I just know things,” Zhane said, putting on his pack. “Wothemoc comehtow,” he called.
“What does it mean?” Eliesmore asked.
“’Awake or wake up’ in Iaen.”
The company rose a few at a time. They wiped sleep from their eyes and collected their few belongings. Idrithar took the lead without waiting for a meal. “Be prepared to march for a long time,” he warned. “We must reach the Jaded Sea before the Rakhai.”
50
Eliesmore
Three days later, the Green Company stood at the edge of the forest. A thick mass of bushes mixed with wild grass stretched before them, ending in the sparkling sea. What lay between them and the sea made Eliesmore feel his strength drip away. Five of the Rakhai sat on their great stallions, beasts with red eyes and white foaming mouths. They snorted and stomped in anticipation as they waited for the Green Company. The sea breeze blew in, stirring their dark hair and clearly displaying the white and black faces of the Monrages. Their eyes were red, and their hands were stretched forward. Beckoning. Daring the Green Company to challenge them.
Beyond them, Eliesmore could see sails. Three boats perched in the water, rocking in the waves. “They found our boats.” Zhane made a fist in anger, slamming it against the palm of his hand.
“If they are our boats, we should take them back.” Visra yanked out her sword and crouched. Spreading her wings, she leaped into the air.
Arldrine stretched a hand behind her back, reaching for an arrow. Her face was set with determination. “Visra and I will distract them,” she announced and ran through the bushes, leaping over them before anyone could say a word.
“Go,” Idrithar ordered. “Eliesmore, Optimistic, and Ellagine, stay with me.”
“That’s not fair…” Wekin began, trailing off as Dathiem grabbed his arm.
“Glashar and I are with you,” he told Wekin. Perhaps he meant to be of comfort, but his voice came out rough and short. Glashar took the lead, and Yamier, Wekin, and Dathiem followed her. The four of them shot out from undercover and raced toward the Jaded Sea. The Rakhai drew their swords and waited, watching the four approach them from one side while Arldrine and Visra approached them from the other.
Eliesmore took a step forward only to find himself pulled backward by a hand on his shoulder. “Eliesmore.” Ellagine’s face was quite close to his. He could see darker flecks in her blue eyes that were clouded with sorrow. Her mouth was quite close to his. “Be careful. The Rakhai are coming.”
Eliesmore pulled away, misunderstanding her statement as he heard thunder and the snort of horses running. Down from the north, three of the Rakhai galloped.
“Run!” Idrithar shouted with a ball of blue fire balanced on his fingertips.
Eliesmore found his feet moving as he almost tripped over bushes. Three more of the Rakhai galloped toward them from the south.
“Hícalidi thrmorí, nehíthermal lamrehtíhen.” Idrithar tossed an arc of blue light toward the Rakhai. It burst overhead, and they dodged it, leaning low over their stallions and screaming as fire rained down on them.
Glashar and Dathiem had their bows in hand, aiming for the stallions. The Rakhai put their hands out, blocking the arrows.
Yamier and Wekin crouched at the edge of the bushes, watching the plain of grass that led toward the waters. “We can’t go any farther,” Wekin shouted in panic. “We are trapped by the sea!”
“Keep going!” Zhane stood alone in the center of the bushes. He raised his bow, shaking his dark hair back as he let a white arrow fly.
A lightning bolt shot across the sky as the Rakhai received their black-light swords. Red-eyed, black horses galloped across the blades as if trapped behind the steel.
Two Monrages sprung down from their mounts with surprising agility, their black robes streaming behind them as they ran toward Eliesmore. Where is the Green Stone? The voice was in his head. Again. How? He grabbed his head as if that motion would drive the voices away. Where is the Green Stone?
“No. Stop!” Optimistic shouted with more fear than force in his tone.
Ellagine hurled a green light at the Monrage, giving Optimistic the freedom to run.
Eliesmore gasped as the Rakhai’s command became stronger. For a moment, the world went black and spinning. Eliesmore struggled for breath as he tripped over a bush and went sprawling head first into the plain of grass. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two Monrages approaching him. In a last effort, Eliesmore reached a hand over his shoulder and yanked his sword free. He swung, meeting the Monrage’s black-light-sword in a blow that jarred his arm. He bit back a cry of pain and stumbled back, crying “Nehíthermal!”
The Iaen word had some power in it. The Monrage snarled, and Eliesmore saw a black crown growing on her head. His heart melted with fear. Before he gave into it, he jumped up and hit at the crown with his sword. The Monrage dropped her sword, and her hand came up; her fist punched his head. White light exploded as pain shot through his face, and he crumbled backward into the bushes, waiting for the spots to disappear.
“Ìal iál, the Sea,” Dathiem cried.
Eliesmore struggled up, noting the Monrages appeared to have left him alone. Ellagine and Optimistic were ahead of him while Zhane strode through the bushes with a sword in hand. “Eliesmore.” He reached out a hand, helping him up.
“We can’t cross the Sea!” Yamier shouted.
“We’re trapped,” screamed Wekin.
“What do we do?” called Dathiem.
“Don’t stop; just run!” Arldrine shouted back.
Eliesmore dodged the Rakhai’s horses and sprinted for the shore, feeling them overtake him as he ran. One leaned down to grab him, and he felt a blanket of heat reach out to smother him. “Harbfigula,” the Rakhai called.
Eliesmore recognized the word; his memory was slow to remind him he’d heard it before during his journey through
the Sandg Sizge Hills. It was part of the call the Dark One sent forth, twisting his desires in a dark message. Eliesmore slowed, an odd ache settling under his bones. He turned to face the Rakhai, walking backward as their true nature was revealed. At first, he saw their white and black faces; they were gaunt as they morphed and shifted. He found himself standing in a meadow, watching as Ellagine strode toward him. Only, there were eleven of her; she was replicated. As they grew closer, he realized the Green Ladies weren't Ellagine, although they were similar in appearance. Their faces had the same curve; their noses were long and sharp while their high cheekbones and oval faces matched Ellagine’s. It was uncanny how alike they looked. It was as if someone had taken one person and copied her over and over again. Their lips were thin and trembled as they opened their mouths, gaping black holes, and began to speak. Blue eyes clouded over, turning black with slits of red amber glowing like coals while their hair changed from blonde to brown to black. Shadows appeared behind them, rising and following as they moved. Tiny white horns poked out of their heads. They were quickly covered by the black crowns that grew over the horns. An arrow flew toward Eliesmore’s heart, and even in his condition, he automatically lifted his sword, blocking it. Black-light flashed, jarring him out of the trance.
It was Ellagine who noticed him lagging behind. “Ilidifwthien, reihtrufidil.” Her sword appeared in a flash of green, and she turned to face the Rakhai, commanding Eliesmore in the Iaen tongue. “Eliesmore, mocteo etomoc fatverivóg govírevatfi.”
Eliesmore ran. Behind him, the Rakhai screamed. They had slowed down when Eliesmore had stopped. Now they galloped forward at full speed; they were so fast that Eliesmore feared he would be crushed under their hooves.
“Fatverivóg govírevatfi,” Ellagine cried.
Her very words drove him on, but before them lay the sea. The Rakhai screamed and then spread out, heading toward the boats and cutting off those who ran toward the sea.
“Head for the boats,” Arldrine shouted to those who had already reached the shores.
“But the Rakhai,” Wekin protested.
“Goidíler, relídiog, go!” ordered Idrithar, who had stopped to use his powers against the Monrages.
“They won’t follow us into the water,” Visra reasoned as she hovered above the waves.
“I see a boulder out in the sea; swim to it!” Glashar ordered.
Splash after splash was heard; Glashar, Yamier, Wekin, Dathiem, and Arldrine jumped.
The sea loomed closer to Eliesmore, yet he felt he couldn’t make it. Optimistic and Idrithar dived in. Eliesmore’s shoulder felt like it was on fire; he was having trouble breathing on account of the heat coming from the Rakhai. Ellagine and Zhane ran out into the sea and then turned to wait for him. Eliesmore ran; a Monrage reached for him, just barely touching the hood of his cloak. Eliesmore jumped into the sea. Zhane caught him, steadying him, and they swam toward the three boats.
A cry rose up from the Rakhai, and they raised their hands, tossing balls of black-light. An explosion rippled across the sea; a wave surged, over ten feet tall, as the boats exploded. Splinters of wood shot through the air like arrows, hurling toward the company right before the wave crashed over them and black-light buried them under water.
Eliesmore felt the fire ignite across his body, shaking him. He could not see or breathe. He struggled in the darkness; his splashing grew weaker as he kicked and fought for the surface. Even with his eyes shut, he saw the faces of the Rakhai shift from green to black. A wild dread overcame him. A dark question rose; it was a question he dared not ask. A question that had an answer he dreaded.
A hand yanked his cloak, pulling him to the surface. His lungs burned as he coughed and spit, frantically flailing his arms. Zhane pulled him up on a boulder where his companions lay, nursing their wounds and watching their voyage to the west disintegrate.
“How many are hurt?” Eliesmore heard Idrithar ask.
“Yamier, Wekin, Optimistic, Arldrine, Visra, and Eliesmore,” Dathiem replied.
“The Rakhai are still on shore,” whispered Glashar. “Their horses are rearing with anger. There they go now. Six go one way, and five go the other way. They are galloping on opposite sides of the shore.”
“Where do we go now? What do we do?” Dathiem touched each individual, calculating the severity of their wounds.
“The Rakhai should be going to find other means of crossing the Sea, but they will look for us,” Zhane warned.
“If we go to Shimla, we will be safe,” Ellagine spoke up. “We must wait until sunrise. We can rest, heal, and build new boats.”
“We will do that,” Idrithar said soberly.
“I must set to work healing them,” said Dathiem, “for we do not want the power to set in…”
That was the last Eliesmore heard before the blackness took him.
51
Zhane
“We have to stop it from taking effect,” Dathiem said, urgency causing his voice to swell. He perched on the rock, reaching his nimble fingers to touch each of the wounded.
Salt stung Zhane’s eyes as he watched, feeling useless. The Rakhai were gone. They were alone.
“Idrithar. Ellagine. I need your help,” Dathiem went on.
Zhane caught the grief in Glashar’s eyes as she realized she was useless. He saw the golden gleam hovering over her fists. Powerless.
Ellagine reached out a hand, water dripping from her sleeve and pebbling on the rock. She placed it on Dathiem’s shoulder and took a deep breath. Green light traveled from her fingertips, thrumming into Dathiem’s body as Zhane watched. Idrithar moved to Dathiem’s right side, lifting a hand and sending currents of blue light flowing through Dathiem.
Although he had not seen it before, Zhane understood. Ellagine and Idrithar were not gifted with healing powers, but the transfer they gave Dathiem would momentarily increase his abilities.
Waves churned, splashing on the rock. When the tide came, they would be buried; they needed to make for the shore. Already he was thinking of the tools he needed to build boats; it would take far too long, even if they worked without stopping.
Dathiem reached for Arldrine, laying hands on her head. She didn’t move, but her breathing became even. Zhane blinked. He watched as the quest and their fates dissolved into helplessness. They had tried, yet the east was reluctant to give them up.
Dathiem caught Zhane’s eyes as he finished. There was a strange light on his face as the effects of the surge of power overcame him. “They will be fine. They must be fine,” he repeated as if he did not believe himself.
Idrithar bowed his head. Ellagine collapsed on the rock, turning pale.
“We have to go,” Glashar called. “We have to swim. We have to carry them.”
Zhane looked to the west where the glimmer of a sunset shot across the sky. He knew with certainty that they were all going to die.
52
Sarhorr
Year 783 (160 Years Ago). Castle Range.
“You have to leave,” he told her as they walked through the woods near Werivment. “If they find out there is a child, they will suffer us no peace.”
She leaned against a tree for support as she weighed his words. He listened to the rush of the waters where the seven rivers met as he waited. “You speak the truth,” she said at last. The words fell reluctantly from her lips, like the last leaves of fall drifting to the forest floor. “Come with me. We will start fresh.”
“No.” He exhaled, refusing to let the fog of pleasure cloud his judgment. “They will hunt me to the ends of the world, and our child will be endangered. What if they kill it before it gains full strength? No, it must be protected.”
Flashes of anger rippled over her face. Her eyes narrowed. “This was your plan all along. You wanted to send me and the child away. Why are you doing this?”
Green light shimmered across her body, growing brighter in the midst of her anger. It was beautiful. Part of him wanted to rip out her heart and consume her power befor
e she could say another word against him.
“You know I am right.”
“That is what infuriates me!” She growled, flinging herself at him.
For a moment, she looked like a panther with its claws out, ready to rip him to shreds. Just as soon as her anger appeared, it dissipated, and he heard a hollow gong as the bond they’d shared evaporated.
“Where should I take this child? This child you have determined not to love?”
“Take her back to the Green People, and when it is time, find me.”
“Where will you be?”
“I will build us a kingdom our child shall rule while we continue our search for the Green Stone.”
She studied him. “The child will be female. She will be strong. She will be powerful.”
He caught glimpses of the future as she touched his face.
“Blood of my blood. What should we name her?”
He waited—giving her time to give him a name, hoping she would reveal hers, knowing she never would. Instead, she would walk away with his child and the secrets in her journal locked in her mind.
“She will be called Magdela.”
“Magdela,” he echoed.
53
Ellagine
Fields of clover. Hues of burnt orange. Cinnamon apples. Pungent flavors cut through the light tang in the air: a blend of tart sorrow and sweet hope.
“Ellagine.” Eliesmore’s sleep-smeared voice punched her thoughts.
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 92