She angled her body toward him, leaning on one arm as a smile caressed her cheeks. “Eliesmore.” She enjoyed the way the syllables of his name sounded on her tongue; she almost said it again, but she checked herself. “How are you feeling?”
He rubbed his eyes and suppressed a yawn with his hand as his brow wrinkled in confusion. “Where are we? What happened?”
His green eyes darted across the glade as if he expected the Rakhai to sweep in and murder them where they sat. She almost laughed at the absurd thought.
“We are in Rashla, in Shimla. After the attack,” she felt fury rising up at the mere thought, “we came here. I thought this place did not exist anymore. It does, and we are safe. For the time being.”
“Oh.” Eliesmore reached for his Jeweled Sword, laying it across his lap as if it would protect him.
“There is nothing to fear.” Ellagine wanted to reach out and comfort him, yet a thought stayed her hand. “You were wounded; most of us were in some way. We came here to heal and build boats. Idrithar, Zhane, and Dathiem have been working night and day since we arrived. We lost everything on the shore; this time we will be prepared.”
He relaxed, his finger running over the jewels on his sword's hilt. “Are the others safe?”
Ellagine pointed north. “A river lies that way; that is where the boats are being built. You’ll find Optimistic, Arldrine, Yamier, and Wekin there from time to time. They work in shifts, either building or hunting. Yamier will cook for us later; you must be hungry.”
“A little,” he agreed. “What about you?”
His wide, emerald eyes met hers. She gave him a warm smile, watching the shades of green reflected in his gaze. Did he know his eyes matched the Green Stone? Did he know he was a Jeweled One? “What about me?”
“How are you?”
Ellagine recoiled, unable to keep the surprise from her face. It was the first time Eliesmore had asked her a personal question. She found herself unsure how to react. “I slept. I healed. See?” Reaching out her arm, she let the green light shimmer and ripple across it.
Eliesmore did not seem impressed. His eyes returned to her face. “I was thinking; I don’t know very much about you.”
This time Ellagine threw back her head and laughed. “Eliesmore, what a thing to say. What do you mean?”
His face flushed, and his ears turned a bright pink. “I mean.” He stumbled over words. “I know. Of course, I know. I just. I meant. I don’t know anything about your life before this. Aside from traveling to the fortress, what did you do? What was it like growing up in Shimla?”
Ellagine felt her guard come up, and her expression grew flat and passive. Why should he be curious about her past, her history, and her story? Especially now? Did the Rakhai say something to alert him? She kept the smile on her face, hoping he would not notice her inner stillness. “You know what it was like to sing and dance with the creatures of the wood. It was like that.”
He shrugged, fidgeting with his sword. “Yes, I recall those glorious nights. What of your family? I had my mother. Who did you have?”
“I had…” She stopped, meeting Eliesmore’s inquisitive gaze. “You really don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what?”
“It is no matter. Here. Have some mocholeach as you go down to the waterfall. The others will be glad to find you awake.”
“Mocholeach?” Eliesmore accepted the leaf and nibbled at the edges. “Isn’t this the legendary plant the Five Warriors stole?”
Ellagine stood, smoothing her dress and enjoying the weight of her long hair as it warmed her back. “When the Green People migrated to the South World, they replanted the gardens of old. I believe this is the only place where mocholeach, among other rare plants, can be found.”
Eliesmore walked beside her; he was full of questions as they headed to a path in the bright wood. “Are the rare plants the reason why you thought this place did not exist?”
“When my parents were banished, they lived beyond the waterfall. I thought…” She brushed the memories away. “Never mind, Eliesmore. I have many tales for your ears when you are older.”
“I don’t like it when you keep things from me,” he muttered.
She almost laughed at his stubbornness.
The woods ended in the middle of a hill that had green shoots and mud rolling into a river. A waterfall thundered down the side of a mountain, creating the riverbed, which swelled with pride before it relaxed and turned into a gentle creek as it threaded its way through the land. Sapling trees and gray boulders lined the river that was scattered with leaves and rocks. Schools of silver fish wiggled through the water; their clusters were only broken by exotic goldfish. On the shore sat three boats made out of brown birch. Idrithar and Zhane were sanding down one while Dathiem and Arldrine worked on another. Wekin was carving a third while Yamier and Optimistic helped.
“Oh.” Eliesmore reached out, his hand brushing her bare arm. “It is wondrous.”
Ellagine shivered at the slight contact; she took a step away from him. “This land is untouched as if evil did not exist. I’d thought everything had been ruined when the Rakhai swept through. Now it seems there is something left. Eliesmore, when you complete your quest, the world shall rejoice.”
Eliesmore grew quiet, chewing his lip. She could see that his inner thoughts were at war with each other. At times, she questioned whether he was as invested in his quest as she was or as they all were. He had the least to lose and the most to gain, yet he treated it as a duty. He had never been excited to be the One; he did not desire it, unlike some. She supposed that was why it was him. Although he was a Blended One, he was pure. There was a reason he had grown up away from other White Steeds and away from the fortress. He was lonely on the edge of Shimla. She could only hope it would be the reason why he stayed and not his undoing.
“Eliesmore!” Wekin had seen them and was waving. A knife glinted in his careless hands. “You’re awake; come join us. We have much to tell you.”
Wekin inevitably had too much to say. Ellagine touched Eliesmore’s shoulder to draw his attention back to her. “Find me when you are tired of working. I will teach you more languages. Time is of the essence. Once the boats are complete, we will drift into the west.”
Eliesmore gave her a quick nod as he headed down the hill. She watched him go, pausing to consider whether she should have told him more. Visra and Glashar were missing from present company; she could only hope they were gathering instead of fighting.
54
Arldrine
Arldrine crouched by the falls, watching the tiny birds flit in and out of a small pool. They cleaned their feathers as they scolded each other. A bluebird, twice the size of the smaller birds, landed on a rock. Arldrine laughed, allowing the mist from the water to splash her face. She missed the vibrant life of nature, and in Rashla, there was an almost playful air to the land. It was easy to believe death and destruction could not touch it, much like the land of Novor Tur-Woodberry.
“Arldrine?”
She turned with a smile on her lips as Zhane walked up behind her. “Zhane,” she welcomed him. She looked calm, although her eyes narrowed slightly. She felt torn whenever she looked at Zhane: part of her wanted to move past the confines of friendship, yet another part of her was terrified. She’d spent years in the forests of Truemonix, hoping she’d find her people again. It would only be right to mate with an Ezinck and bring back the line of forest dwellers. A line she worried would be lost forever. “What do you think?” She pointed to the white trees growing along the shore.
Zhane reached out, running the palms of his hands over the white wood.
“For oars,” Arldrine continued, standing to join him. “Wekin wants to carve designs on them if we have enough time.”
Zhane nodded, lifting his blade to strip the tree. “We should; it will not take long to fashion these into oars. Two or three for each boat should be plenty. I did not come to speak to you regarding oars though.”
“No?” Arldrine prodded him, her smile dropping away. “Speak, Zhane. What is on your mind? I am always happy to listen to you.”
“Listen, I heard a tale that you are going to search for mankind in the Cascade Mountains. They might be another army to aid the White Steeds when we take back the South World.”
Arldrine put her hands on her hips. “You’ve been talking with Dathiem.”
“I hope you do not mind,” Zhane offered. “Dathiem and I come from the west. I would warn you not to seek help there; the Tiders of the mounts are ruthless, as are the people groups who live in the foothills and onward. To seek help there would be to needlessly endanger your life.”
Arldrine frowned. “Zhane, everything we do threatens our lives. This quest is beset with obstacles; we are delayed time and time again. We have to take aggressive action to save our world.”
“Not at the risk of your life.” Zhane reached up, stripping a branch from the tree. Shavings of white rained down, sprinkling his dark head. He had tied his hair back from his face, yet strands sprang loose as he worked. Arldrine paused, watching him and admiring the strength in his arms. He had a broad chest and big arms from swinging his sword.
“Zhane.” She felt something in her heart as she looked at him. Something that was shut, closed, and locked tight was beginning to open. She reached out a hand as if to touch him. “Our lives have been forfeit since the moment we began this quest.”
“No.” He dropped a branch onto a pile of white wood. “Arldrine, sit down. I will tell you a story.”
Arldrine dropped her arms and reluctantly sat down across from Zhane. His eyes were dark and protective.
“I mean well,” he began, “but the past has been difficult.” His jaw was set as he gazed at the waterfall before meeting her eyes. “There is a clan of shifters in the mountains where I grew up called the Therian. They possess the unique ability to transform into talking animals, and they rule the land and air. Rumor has it there was a time when Magdela the Monrage walked in their midst, teaching them the ways of the Great-Black-Evil, and that land has not been the same since then. The Therian hunt anyone who cannot shift, using both people and animals as a life force. Only the strongest survive. It took Dathiem and me years to escape their lands; we saw many of our family members torn to shreds. There is no reasoning with the Therian. They are wild, vicious, and loyal to no one. It is because of them I implore you not to seek mankind in the mountains; the west is evil. I know you can take care of yourself, but the east is safe compared to the west.”
“The Therian,” Arldrine repeated, seeing the pain in Zhane’s eyes. She reached out a hand to touch his. “I’m sorry; I did not know.”
“It's nothing to apologize for; you know many things, yet there are still mysteries of the world hidden from us. I want you to be aware. There is safety in numbers.”
Arldrine considered his warning, studying his face. A brief glimmer caught her attention, and she dropped her eyes, looking to where their hands met. For a moment, she thought she saw a white flash. She yanked her hand away with her pulse racing.
He smiled at her, diffusing the tension from his words. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought…I saw…” She glanced down again. “It was nothing. It was just white wood. I appreciate your warning, Zhane.” She stood, reaching for the branches they’d cut. “But our focus is this quest. We have to do what is best for the world, not only ourselves.”
“True,” Zhane agreed. He reached out a hand, tucking her hair behind her ear, his fingertips unintentionally brushing her cheek. “We have a responsibility to each other first. Arldrine, you should know I care about you. If anything were to happen to you, I don’t know what I would do.”
“Zhane,” Arldrine scolded, although her heart felt warmed by his words. “Nothing is going to happen to me.”
55
Dathiem
Dathiem took a long drink from his flask, relishing the warmth spreading across his tongue. It was almost empty. While he knew he should save some of the liquid, his desire for it overcame his patience.
“What are you drinking?”
He jerked, almost spilling the precious drops.
Glashar kneeled a few paces away from him, picking medicinal herbs. A crown of green leaves was weaved through her loose golden hair, which was the same color as sunlight. He wiped his mouth, cursing under his breath. He hadn’t noticed she was there.
“A draught from the fortress,” he admitted. “The best wines come in from Oceantic and mellow in the barrels. There are rich, dark flavors with oak, even you would enjoy the fine taste.”
“Dark flavors?” Glashar repeated, lifting her face up to him. “My palette enjoys sweeter, lighter undertones when it comes to wine.”
“Our tastes are quite different.” He tucked away the flask. Her aura was intoxicating. Every time they were alone, he felt he was on the verge of losing control. The way she looked at him—a mix of eagerness, honest admiration, and lust—did not help. The distraction from the realities of their quest and the vague evil pressing into his consciousness served as a welcome respite.
“May I have a taste?” Her pink lips curved up into a seductive smile.
Catching the double meaning behind her words, he weighed the cost again. The love between a mortal and immortal was forbidden. While the blend between the people groups was frowned upon, copulating with the immortals was not only unwise, but it was also treacherous. He would lose his soul if he went down this path. His eyes roamed back over Glashar’s heart-shaped face, committing to memory the way her large eyes welcomed him and the graceful arch of her limbs. He walked toward her, anticipation hastening his movements. He could hear the faint spray of the waterfall as it clashed against the rocks while a pulse of life whispered through the trees. Why should he hold back? The west would be the ruin of the Green Company; he should act while he had the time.
Glashar waited for his answer. Her eyelids dropped when she discerned none was forthcoming.
The light struck her long lashes, and the breeze tussled her silken garb, giving him further flashes of bare skin. He licked his lips, tasting elderberries in the air or perhaps the aftertaste from the elixir he drank.
White flower petals exploded in the wind, their fragile leaves spinning and curling over Glashar’s head as she moved to her feet. He came up behind her; his breath was heavy as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. She was quite small, reminding him of a fledging bird that was ready to take flight if capture was foreseen.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist.
His fingers caressed her hips on their journey to the core of her body, stroking, teasing, and memorizing. She felt warm against him as he nibbled her ear, fingers tracing the swell of her breasts and pausing as her nipples grew hard from arousal. Her arms came up as she arched her back, rolling her head into his shoulder.
“Kiss me,” she begged, pushing against him and demanding more.
His breath tickled her neck, watching the veins pulse in anticipation. “No.” He stroked her golden hair off her neck, leaving it vulnerable and open to his attentions. “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
Fingers closed over his hand, her touch sending waves of electric shock ripping through his body. She slid his hand down her waist, guiding it past her belly. “Please.”
He froze. The moment of indecision was gone. In one move, he spun her to face him, studying the wanton expression on her face. Her eyes were dark, and her nostrils flared as she struggled for breath. Her mouth was half open, waiting.
Lifting her in his arms, he felt her legs wrap around his waist. One hand cupped the curves of her bottom as he walked forward, pressing her back into the trunk of a tree. She squirmed under his touch, pressing herself against his fingers, as her body pleaded for more.
Her fingers wound through his long hair, pulling his face closer to hers. There was a moment before they crossed over into the throes of passion when
he met her eyes. His lips grazed hers when he spoke. “Is this what you want?”
It was not too late. They were still two people. A mortal. An immortal. Separate. Distinct. If they did this, everything would change.
When their lips met in soft, tender exploration, bliss exploded around him. The past and future ceased to exist, leaving nothing but the intoxicating moment as their tongues explored each other’s mouths. At first, it was cautious as they felt each other, yet the politeness drifted away as the desire for more took over. Seconds blurred into minutes as they kissed. Her nose bumped into his cheek, and her teeth nibbled his lips. His tongue tasted the hazy gold as a heady fragrance consumed them. He couldn’t tell at what point they fell, yet suddenly they were sprawled out in the fields with their clothes tossed in a heap. He found himself stroking her porcelain skin, determined to enjoy every inch of it. She cried out as she pressed harder, bucking into him. A hand came up to touch his cheeks and trace the line of his mouth before it captured his lips again. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if the simple act could fuse them together for eternity.
Later, they lay in the field as darkness fell and the stars twinkled high above. They shared their secrets, one to the other. She lay on top of him, breathing shallowly with her face nuzzled into his neck. Her hand rested on his chest. Sighs of contentment escaped her lips as he stroked her bare back. Now and again, when he had the strength, he kissed her head. “I don’t want anything but you,” he murmured.
In the distance, the sound of the waters had stopped. Instead, he could hear the stars exclaiming in soft wonder. A song was birthed into the night. It rushed over him: a multitude of melodies sung for the first time. They matched the rhythm of his heart. As he pulled her closer against him, he found, for the first time, he felt complete.
56
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 93