Idrithar repeatedly asked Fastshed to stay toward the sea, yet the horses ran inland despite his goading. Each day at midday, they would pause to eat mocholeach and reset the direction they ran in. Each night, the horses would follow their noses, fleeing from doom. Confirming the horses’ terror, the company began to hear howls and cries behind them. The Rakhai were on their trail, bringing the storm with them.
The wind picked up, blowing against them. The heavens grew dark while black smoke blew across the western sky. A thick heat was in the air, forcing Eliesmore’s eyes to stream. The horses did not appear to notice. They drove forward as if they could not stop. An explosion echoed across the meadow, shaking the ground. Eliesmore felt the tremors even as he rode on Flywinger. His eyes were drawn westward to the source as a ball of red fire lit up the sky for brief seconds. Screams erupted. Even though he was sweating hard, goosebumps broke out on his arms, and he felt chilled to the core.
A clap of thunder made him jump before the clouds opened, and the rain poured down: the tears of the Four Worlds as its destruction continued. Eliesmore could just hear Idrithar's shout, yet his words came muffled through the storm. Eliesmore pulled his hood over his eyes, keeping the rain from his skin. It rolled and bounced off of Flywinger.
The wind slapped against his shoulders like a threat. Its voice screamed accusations at him. He was too slow. Too late. The west had fallen. The South World was falling. How arrogant he must be to assume he could stop the Changers. The dark side of creation. He played with powers much greater and much stronger than him. How could he expect to confront them and succeed?
Hours passed. The night turned into day. Day turned into night. Fear drove Fastshed and company. A hail storm broke out; the rain turning into white pellets that slapped against them and created small bruises on their skin. Eliesmore kept his head down, although the wind threatened to blow him off Flywinger. A dark presence made itself known, following behind them like wild lions hunting.
Eliesmore looked back. A black cloud of malice raced toward them, moving through the storm as if it controlled it. Three of the Rakhai were directly behind them. Black crowns grew on their heads. The crowns’ points twisted like tentacles that were growing, stretching, and reaching for him.
Ahead, a clump of trees grew; they were bent over in the wind. If they had voices, they would be wailing under the brutality of the storm. The horses surged forward, even though they were nearing the end of their strength.
A wave of blackness overcame Eliesmore. He opened his eyes and saw nothing. Then spots of lights blinked in front of him. Numbness worked its way through his body, controlling him and making his movement sluggish. Iron determination faded, and insecurities rose. He sank into darkness, waiting for the blade to pierce his heart and waiting for the hammer to fall. The dark power of the Rakhai surrounded him until he was drowning in it.
Hours of agony passed as the Rakhai hemmed them in, forcing the horses to run northwest. Eliesmore knew this time they would not escape. This time the Rakhai would not run away. This time the Rakhai would lead them to their doom and bury them.
A black hill appeared in front of them. It was surrounded by a cluster of trees; their forms were twisted and ancient. Fastshed and company ran for the hill as the Monrages closed in on them, hurling balls of black light at the churning hooves of the horses. Eliesmore squeezed his eyes shut, giving in to fear. A moment later the rain stopped.
Eliesmore opened his eyes, gasping for air. He sat upright on Flywinger’s back inside a cave. Outside the rain, wind, and hail continued to rage while balls of black light bounced away from the entrance.
Idrithar was the first to dismount, casting a blue aura across the cave. He moved toward the entrance, ready to defend the company even though the Rakhai were retreating.
“We are safe from the Rakhai for the time being,” Zhane called. “They will not enter here. Nourish and rest yourselves.”
Eliesmore stroked Flywinger’s heaving sides as he dismounted. He saw Dathiem swing down from his mount, pulling Glashar down beside him. She clung to him as he spoke to the horse, whispering words of comfort.
“Where are we?” Wekin demanded, tossing back his hood and opening his pack.
“I don’t think I want to know,” Yamier shook his head, eyeing the back of the cave.
The stone walls sloped downwards, clearly marking the back of the cave.
“We need to leave.” Glashar’s tone was flat. “It is better to be out there with the Rakhai than here. This is a trap.”
“We are in the Cave of Disappearance, aren’t we?” Arldrine looked from Zhane to Idrithar, seeking confirmation.
“Yes.” Zhane hung his head. “Glashar is right. We need to leave. Idrithar?”
Idrithar turned from the entrance to face them. “It is too late.”
Eliesmore opened his mouth to protest but sat back stunned when he saw what the blue light revealed. The entrance of the cave was gone. Even though they could hear the storm raging around them, stone covered the exit. “Oh.” A hush drifted through the company.
Idrithar lifted his hands to reassure them. “Do as Zhane bade you. Sleep. Rest. We have escaped from here before. We shall do so again.”
Exhaustion set in as Eliesmore lay back, using his pack as a pillow. He exchanged a quick glance with Optimistic, who shrugged before lying down beside him. A female sang in his dreams; her voice was high and full of longing. A deep sadness overtook his heart. She stood alone on a dark plain with long, light hair trailing to her waist. Great wings were folded on her back, and she buried her face in her hands as she lamented. A pillar of green light spread from her body in four directions. North. South. East. West. Twelve figures rose out of darkness, moving to overtake her. Just before they swallowed her in darkness, she lifted her hands; her eyes met Eliesmore’s. I damned myself for you. Save them.
Tap. Scratch. Tap. Tap. Scratch. Eliesmore opened his eyes. The scratching sound continued as he stood, shrugging his pack onto his back. “Where are the horses?” His voice came out hoarse with fear.
“They have been taken.” Zhane faced the back of the cave with an arrow in his bow. “There is trouble.”
Arldrine moved to Yamier and Wekin, shaking them awake. “Get your weapons; the cave is shifting.”
Optimistic moved beside Eliesmore; he turned his head, hoping to catch sight of Ellagine. Before he was able to see her, the back wall of the cave opened. Eliesmore did not see how it happened. One moment there was stone; the next, it was gone, revealing Fastshed and company. They reared up, screaming in terror, and dashed out toward the Green Company, almost running them over in a panic. Eliesmore threw himself against the wall to avoid being hit by the hooves. As he did, he saw something else move in the darkness. A boulder uncurled itself and rose; it was ten feet tall. Round arms and legs sprang up, gyrating against the body of the creature. On top, it had a bald head with two dark openings for eyes, gaping sockets, and a jagged mouth that was frozen half open and half closed.
“Ìal iál, bálangers!” Arldrine cried, springing to one side and fitting an arrow into her bow.
“Bálangers, we can do nothing. Run!” Idrithar shouted.
“Which way?” cried Yamier.
A second bálanger uncurled itself and moved toward the company. A third picked up a rock and threw it. It cracked and smashed as it rolled into the midst of the Green Company, effectively splitting them in half.
“Run!” shouted Ellagine.
“To the back! To the back!” Dathiem called.
“Lead Eliesmore!” Idrithar commanded.
Eliesmore ran, his heart thudding within him. He heard the cries of the horses, the shouts of his friends, and the noise of the stone bálangers pounding throughout the cave floor. Shaking off his fears, he drew his sword. A fourth bálanger leaped in front of him, and Eliesmore dived, rolling on the ground and scraping his legs on stones. The cave floor tipped downward as he tried, without success, to catch his footing. His back slammed in
to an object, knocking the wind out of him. He coughed as the pain jarred through his body, and he struggled upward with a hand on his lower back. He stepped back as the object rose before him. It was a tree; its trunk was three times the size of that of an ordinary tree. It stood eight feet high and stopped with its branches melting into the stone ceiling. Words had been carved in the Valikai Dialect across the tree. As he read them, Eliesmore knew he was standing in front of the door to the Holesmoles.
58
Sarhorr
Year 915 (28 years ago). Daygone.
He walked out of the Eastern World and through the portal into Daygone. He almost jumped when he saw his brother and sister waiting for him. They stood in the center of his self-created throne room in front of the circular altar. A basin was molded above it; it was a tool he used to catch the blood from his victims.
“She is dead?” his sister asked.
He clasped his hands in front of him and nodded. He’d thought there would be more time between the death of Magdela the Monrage and his return to the South World. He had not expected his brother and sister to be waiting on his doorstep.
“Good.” His sister walked toward him. The clank of her pitchfork rang ominously on the stone. “You have met our requests, and I admit that I am impressed with your good behavior.” She laughed before walking back to the altar. “It is time for us to rise. All three of us.”
He approached the altar; he was careful to display his deference toward her rule and judgment. He used his brother’s silence as an example.
“The time is coming when the One will rise. The One they say will find the Jeweled Sword and dissolve the Green Stone. He will bring an army to destroy everything we have done and prevent us from ruling the Four Worlds.”
He listened to her, knowing she only meant for herself to rule. He and his brother were simply pawns in her hands; she’d use their powers as she desired.
“We must prevent the One from completing his quest. He…” She pointed to their brother. “Will guard the fountain in the Constel Heights with an army of Crons to defend against the One and his army. I will go to the southern countries in the west to ensure they remain loyal to us. Fear will be our ally. And you…” She pointed her pitchfork at him. “You will remain here. No more children. No more mixing your blood with the mortals and immortals; it is an abomination.”
He bowed his head in acceptance.
“Since you are fond of armies and transformations, you shall wake the sleeping dead.”
He stared at her.
“They are buried deep underground in the Holesmoles, slumbering and waiting for the moment when they are called by their Lord and Master. When you hear word of the One, you shall call forth our army, and they shall destroy all who stand in our way.”
“I understand. If I may…” He paused, waiting for her acknowledgment. “I would be honored to create a specialized force to hunt down the One.”
“You may.” It sounded like an order. “But you must never set foot outside of the Eastern Hill Countries again.”
“Understood.”
She dropped her pitchfork, clasping her hands together. She pulled a curved blade from her robes and held out her wrists. “Let us swear the blood oath.”
He held out his arm, listening to the words as they began to chant. She sliced their wrists open, and they let the blood flow into the basin. They repeated the words and drank, one after the other. When his turn came, he drained the black blood from the basin. Soon they would be dead, and he would be the only Changer left to rule the Four Worlds.
59
Eliesmore
Open the door upon your doom.
Enter then into the gloom.
Three times must you knock.
Halt the creatures made of rock.
Eliesmore cringed. Making a fist, he lifted his hand and pounded once. Tree bark scraped his knuckles as he glanced behind. Yamier and Wekin ran toward him. Their eyes were wide in fear; the swords in their hands would do little good against the bálangers. He pounded a second time. Blue and green sparks blasted across one creature’s head, but it moved forward unaffected. He pounded a third time.
The doors to the Holesmoles shuddered and opened. Eliesmore took a step back as a foul odor permeated the air. He could hear the bálangers coming, throwing rocks as he ran forward with the Green Company at his heels.
“Shut the door! Shut the door!” Idrithar shouted as boulders crashed around them.
A rubble of dust clouded Eliesmore’s vision as he ran. He heard banging, shouts, and more banging around him. A door slammed, shaking the ground. The outline of the door disappeared, and the rocks shuddered, shutting out the bálangers. There was silence for mere moments before a howl went up and something banged into the door on the other side. The Rakhai were on the other side of the door. Eliesmore wasn’t sure whether they were attempting to enter or lock the company inside. “Run!” he shouted and led them onward into the Holesmoles.
When their first fear had subsided and they had run far enough to get away from the falling rocks, the company huddled together. “Well.” Arldrine sighed. “Here we are, trapped in the Holesmoles.”
“We disappeared, and we didn’t even sleep. I mean, we kept watch,” Wekin despaired.
“Bálangers make you disappear.” Glashar stared straight ahead as if in a trance. She sniffed the air and shivered.
“At least we are together and alive.” Optimistic’s words came out muffled in the darkness. “There is hope as long as we are alive.”
“We make torches before moving onward,” Idrithar suggested.
Eliesmore made his way to Ellagine as Idrithar, Zhane, and Dathiem created light. The stone floor was riddled with curved skeletons. He reached out a hand as Ellagine stiffened. Her eyes were dark when they met his. “It has come to this,” she whispered.
“Ellagine, who was Shalidir?” He held up the amulet as it began to glow, a light in the darkness as Idrithar led the way toward a staircase.
“Why do you ask?”
He could detect hints of unfriendliness in her voice.
“I think I dreamed about her,” he confessed. “You said she was the Green Person who build the Idrain Fountain where the Green Stone will be dissolved. Green People are immortal. What happened to her? Why didn’t she save the world?”
Ellagine adverted her eyes, checking to see who was directly behind them before she answered. “Eliesmore, it does not matter what happened to her. She chose her own path and stuck to her decisions, regardless of what grief or joy it brought her. The question you should ask yourself is: why? Why are you doing this? You have a choice to make, which you can only make if you know why. Asking what others did in the past will not help you.”
Eliesmore frowned. “What do you mean? I am doing this because of ‘Song’. I am the One. No other choice or path lies before me. I don’t understand. Why me? I am not skilled with the blade; I don’t understand the lore of the world. At every turn, our passage is blocked. I mean, look where we are now! Trapped in the mines! How are we to win if we are chased and deterred at every step?”
Ellagine crossed her arms. “That is not true, Eliesmore. If you truly did not want to be the One, there is nothing we could do to force you. You could let the world fall into darkness, but you are fighting back, which means you have a cause and a reason. You must find out why you are fighting if you are to stay true to yourself. Where we are going, there is no turning back. We will go into the heart of darkness, where powers greater than I can imagine wage war. I have watched you in the hope that you will rise, take the lead, and fulfill your potential. You can only do so if you believe in yourself.
“For too long people have blamed their decisions on circumstance. They blame people for the way the world is. They blame those in a position of power for making them weak, for taking away their rights, and for banishing people out of their land. People will always complain, judge, and spin tales, refusing to take responsibility for their actions. The
mortals blame the immortals for the fate of the world. The immortals blame the mortals for falling from grace. People refuse to take responsibility for their actions. You must remember, Eliesmore: no one is forcing you to be the One. People choose what they will live and die for. You have to take responsibility for your own actions. You are the master of your fate. You are in charge of your destiny. Words are what drive you to make decisions. However, words can do nothing but sway you.
“There may be dominance in words, yet there is more power in action. Action is what changes the world. Action is what makes things happen. Use your words to create action, and stop blaming your circumstances, your past, the way you grew up, the repetitions of history, the mortals, and the immortals for your life. Your fate. Words have inspired you to act. Now take your actions, make them your own, drop the blame, and go out and do what you know in your heart you were meant to do. Because if you don’t act and if you pout and feel sorry for yourself, the world will fall and fade, and the blame will land on your head.
“You are not your past. You are not your fears. You are not your worries. The only person you are is who you believe you are. I cannot make you strong enough or determined enough to be the One. You have to decide that on your own. Make your choice. Will you sink in disillusion or will you rise?”
Eliesmore stared at her; he was surprised at the fire in her words. Her eyes glinted darkly. He felt a cry in his heart. A sob. “Someone once told me not to trust the immortals,” he admitted.
Ellagine rolled her shoulders back. “Whoever said those words was right, Eliesmore, although you cannot always trust the words of someone else. You must find the truth for yourself, not because of what someone else said or because of fear. Here in the Holesmoles, it may seem darkness surrounds us, but your light is inside you. When you know why you are doing this, you will become unstoppable. I tell you this because I will not always be with you. There will be times when you walk alone, and you will hear truths and lies to persuade your opinion either way. You can choose to walk in the light or to sink like Magdela the Monrage. We all have a choice.”
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 95