The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  When it was nearly too dark to go on, the company reached the top of the cliff. They collapsed on the dusty, brown ground with their arms and legs aching. Glashar stood at the edge, rotating south, west, north, and east. “We must go on tonight,” she announced. “Danger is coming.”

  Arldrine and Zhane joined Glashar.

  Zhane put his hand on his sword hilt.

  “I don’t think it’s the woísts,” Arldrine remarked.

  “What is it then?” Wekin inquired.

  And then they all heard it. A long, distant, eerie howl, which echoed and reechoed off the mountains. All were frozen and quiet. The joy of the past three weeks melted away.

  Eliesmore shut his eyes and then opened them again. Going on was harder than he thought; all the Rakhai did was chase them and come too close. He felt different about this time. They had no horses to carry them out of danger. There was no sea to run into or a Cave of Disappearance. This time they were trapped. Realization dawned on the company, and they looked to each other for courage.

  Fog rolled across the slope in the morning, the rocks picking up the distant echo of horse hooves. This time, Eliesmore doubted it was Fastshed and company. Idrithar picked up the pace, and they broke into a run, dashing through small clumps of grass and leaving a cloud of dust behind them. The sunlight burned away the fog, allowing Eliesmore to see a sharp drop off and a ravine.

  An eerie howl drifted toward them, and Idrithar slowed down, turning to face them.

  “Should we fight or run?” Zhane asked.

  “The gorge is up ahead,” Idrithar answered.

  “We should run to it,” Dathiem called.

  As the thunder came nearer, Eliesmore turned to look. He was surprised to see the Rakhai galloping toward them.

  “Weapons out,” called Glashar.

  “To the gorge.” Idrithar bounded away.

  The Rakhai howled and came on, their black cloaks flying as they galloped hard on their horses; they were ready to trample the company underfoot. The next few moments blurred as Eliesmore ran. He heard shouts and the clang of swords as the Rakhai stormed into their midst. He saw Dathiem leap off the edge and climb into the gorge.

  A frantic shout went up from the left side, and Eliesmore spun, seeing a black horse rearing with an arrow in it. A Monrage rode beside him with a hand reaching for him. Her fingers were like claws. Her voice buzzed in his head: Give us the Green Stone.

  Eliesmore’s heart beat wildly as he skidded to a stop. He spun, his eyes taking in a Monrage fighting Optimistic. Optimistic let an arrow fly and ran toward the gorge. The Monrage jumped off her horse and threw her sword, tripping Optimistic. He went down hard on a rock, ripping his tunic as he fell. The bag with the Green Stone rolled out into plain view.

  “No!” Optimistic shrieked, his hands pushing himself off the dusty ground as he scrambled toward the stone. The Monrage lifted a booted foot and kicked Optimistic in the side. His face went white with pain as he rolled toward the edge. With a final push, the Monrage sent him over into the gorge.

  Eliesmore felt as if his old wound had been torn open and put on fire as the Monrage strode back toward the Green Stone. He ran and dived, ignoring the bruises and scrapes as he slid across the rocky ground. He reached the Green Stone first and snatched it up. He stood up, turning to run. Instead, he felt the strong arm of a Monrage scoop him up on her horse. The horse took off running alongside the gorge. Eliesmore struggled to get away, legs kicking and one arm flailing as he punched and scratched. Terror rose up, and he yelled, reaching for his sword. The Monrage’s arm around his waist felt like iron. She continued to squeeze until Eliesmore felt his ribs crack, pain exploding across his torso. For a moment, Eliesmore couldn’t breathe. Then he screamed.

  Eliesmore’s fingers closed around his sword hilt; he pulled while pain ripped through his chest. Striking out blindly, he pushed the sword toward the Monrage, hearing the sickening sucking sound as it slid into her side. A violent hiss erupted, the arm holding Eliesmore loosened, and he fell hard with the Jeweled Sword in one hand and the Green Stone in the other. Gasping for breath, he ran, tasting blood in his mouth. Ellagine stood over the edge of the cliff, screaming his name. One of her hands held back the onslaught of the Monrages while the other reached for him. Gathering his strength, Eliesmore hurled himself toward her and jumped.

  66

  Sarhorr

  April. Year 943. (6 months ago).

  “What did I say?” He pounded his pitchfork on the stone as he screamed at his eleven daughters. “What, specifically, did I say?”

  “Chase him.” One trembled as she spoke with her eyes cast downward.

  “Make him fear us.” Another added.

  “But do not kill him.” A third uttered.

  “Exactly!” He exploded. “I said DO NOT KILL HIM! And what did you do? Put a sword through his body. It is imperative that he lives. In time, he will be our ally, but you must frighten him into submission. Listen well. I have appointed you the protectors of the Green Company. Chase them. Tease them. Torture them, but do not kill them. How will he trust us if we kill his companions? Go to the Constel Heights, and then, only then, will you lead him to me in Daygone.”

  They were stupid. He’d taken too much of their minds and their free will. He’d tried to keep them from revolting and sought to keep them as his submissive servants, unlike Magdela, who had gone rogue. He approved of her, but he missed her two-faced betrayal. She had been his masterpiece, his ultimate decoy. But now he needed to trust his daughters; they had to do his bidding in order for his plan to succeed. It would be much easier to draw the power from Eliesmore than to attempt to dissolve the Green Stone. Besides, it would not work if he tried to dissolve it. Only Eliesmore could dissolve the Green Stone, a fact he’d been bitterly angry to discover. It meant he had to wait, years and years, while time flittered away from him and his brother and sister grew impatient.

  “Father?” one asked.

  “Never call me that,” he barked at her. It was imperative the mortals did not know they were blood of his blood.

  “How should we track them? They have powerful mortals and immortals traveling with them.”

  “The same blood that runs through your veins runs through one of theirs. Use the bloodline to find and track them.”

  They looked at him. They were too stupid to be surprised.

  “Listen. Be sure you cross the Jaded Sea before the company does. We must make it look like we are obeying the wishes of my brother and sister. Attack them and drive them into the mountains, but keep them away from my sister, lest she senses them coming. If they pass too close to her domain, she will take the Green Stone, and we will be left in ruin. Do whatever it takes.”

  They nodded, fingers twitching.

  “Go,” he thundered at them. “Before I punish you!”

  As they fled, he watched their dark figures fleeing in and out of the shadows, and he remembered when their mother had returned to him thirteen years after the birth of their first child.

  67

  Eliesmore

  He woke later. His first breath was a gasp of pain before air slid through his body. One hand clenched the bag holding the Green Stone while the other he used to touch his chest. It was wrapped in a bandage, but his Jeweled Sword had been returned to its resting place by his side. Above him, sloped rock melded into stalagmites hanging from the ceiling, and he jerked, thinking he was back in the Holesmoles. As he turned his head, he could see daylight streaming in from a crack about a foot wide and four feet long. With relief, he remembered they were in a cave in the gorge, hiding from the Rakhai.

  Zhane sat by the crack; his eyes watched the scenery outside of the cave. One arm was wrapped tightly around Arldrine’s waist. Her leg was bandaged and propped up on a rock. Her eyes were downcast as she focused on cleaning her dagger.

  Eliesmore drew in a sharp breath; the flutter of terror passed over his heart as his eyes fell on the next person. Idrithar lay flat on his back. His
eyes were closed, and his face was pale. It was a sight Eliesmore had never seen. He could not recall ever seeing Idrithar sleep. Seeing him cast down meant something was quite wrong.

  Visra lay on her stomach. Her wings were stretched out, although one was bent in half as if someone with powerful hands had reached up and snapped it. Either she was asleep or she had gone deep within herself because she lay still as death. Perhaps she was dead. Eliesmore shuddered.

  Yamier and Wekin had been propped against a boulder, keeping them in a sitting position even as they slept. A bandage covered Wekin’s head while Yamier’s eyes stared, unblinking, as if he were being drawn into a horrific trance.

  Glashar’s face was white, her shoulder was bandaged, and her large eyes blinked as if she could keep the pain away. One hand was entwined in Dathiem’s. Dathiem’s face was haggard and drawn. It was as if he had expended all of his strength.

  Eliesmore turned his head, attempting to keep the pain from jabbing his innards again. Ellagine was curled up in a corner; most of her tinted, transparent hair covered her face. Whether she was wounded or not, Eliesmore could not tell.

  Last, he searched for Optimistic, whose tunic was ripped open and his shirt was stained with blood. He appeared more bruised than wounded.

  The Rakhai had attacked at last. There was no time to rest and heal; Eliesmore could feel the power of the Green Stone pulsing in his hands. It was time to rise and time to dissolve the Green Stone and be done with his first quest. Instead of fear, he felt anger rise up, and he squeezed the stone in frustration.

  He recalled his flight from the Holesmoles and his thoughts as he climbed out of the depths while the great beast roared behind him. What was the beast? Was it coming for them? How would he dissolve the Green Stone if the Changers lay in wait? He could not fight the Rakhai. How could he expect to fight greater beings like the Changers? If they guarded the fountain where the Green Stone would be dissolved, he would have to fight his way past them. He would be killed, the Green Company would be ripped to shreds, and the last thread of hope for the South World would be broken.

  Laying there and observing his companions, he found it easy to see how the world belonged to the Changers. What were they waiting for? What were the Rakhai waiting for? A thought he had never thought before came to his mind. What if this were all a trap? What if he was a pawn in an elaborate game? Frustration overcame him, and he continued to squeeze the stone until he passed out again.

  As the night wore on, Eliesmore felt something shining. He opened his eyes, thinking it was daylight. Instead, he found himself in a vision. A pale green light flowed from his hands, and when he lifted them, he saw he was holding the Green Stone. The light from it flowed like a cord from a vine, its ends wrapping around the company. The first vine twirled around him, covering his bandages until he felt his bones meld back together. Just before he felt his ribs seal together, the vine dropped away, leaving his healing incomplete.

  The vine drifted across the silver glow of the cave, curling around Arldrine’s feet. Eliesmore could see her as the Rakhai chased her down. She lifted her bow; a horse reared and kicked out at her. She ducked, spinning out of the way, only to be run over by another horse. It trod on her foot, smashing bone and ligaments as she screamed. The green light lessened the pain; it stretched her foot out, bringing the bones to the brink of recovery.

  Four Monrages had surrounded Idrithar, hemming him in and taunting him. They tossed black light at him and laughed as he tried to fight all of them at once. One reached out, grabbed his heart with her hands, found the core of his desires, and drank them until she was full. When they kicked him over the edge, his mind was broken and his power was dormant. As he slept, a golden light filled his mind, wrapping him in peace.

  Zhane felt his confidence build; he had been through worst. He would lead the company through the mountain of fire and on to the Constel Heights. They would succeed.

  Wekin had run with Yamier, the Rakhai behind them, hurling fireballs into their heads. Wekin remembered the world exploding and his sight going dark. When he woke, his eyes hurt, and his head ached with the burning of an undying fire. As the vines reached him, the roar subsided into a pulsing dullness.

  Yamier had no memories. He saw a light. Silver. Gold. Black. Green. As the vine curled around his foot, his thoughts took form; he recalled his name. He knew who he was. He was a hunter, and a smile touched his lips as he dreamed of chasing wild boar on the mountains.

  Glashar had heard the crunch of bone shattering and turned to see Arldrine screaming in agony. Turning away from the edge, Glashar ran to save Arldrine. As Glashar reached a hand out, a boulder smashed into her shoulder, ripping her socket out of joint. The impact happened too quickly for her to do anything. She froze, her face turning white, with her mouth wide open. Dathiem was there, snatching her up with one arm and reaching for Arldrine with the other. As the light caressed her face, she felt the pain in her shoulder fade, leaving only stiffness.

  Visra was flying when one of the black balls of fire ripped into her. She laughed through the pain, waving her sword and diving. How she miscalculated, she did not know; her reach was impeccable. Without warning, the power of flight forsook her. She crashed into the ground, one of her wings bending and snapping as the Rakhai galloped away. She sprained her arm as she rolled over into the gorge. The vines threaded over her wing, folding it back into place and allowing it to heal.

  The vine slide around Optimistic’s waist, finding the bruise from the nasty kick from the Monrages. No bones were broken; his cuts and bruises would heal if they were given time.

  Dathiem woke with a start. He and Zhane, who kept watch, had come out of the fray unharmed. Dathiem squinted. His eyes followed the green light as it rippled and disappeared, curling back up within itself.

  Silver light danced across the cave, twirling between the stalagmites, as Eliesmore opened his eyes. He still held the stone in his hand, and he looked down at the bag, curious about what had transpired that night. His eyes met Optimistic. “The Green Stone.” Eliesmore held it up.

  Optimistic smiled as he scooted over. “Thank you for saving it. I tried…” He shrugged, the smile sliding his face. “If it hadn’t been for you, I fear what would have happened.”

  Eliesmore blew out his breath, handing the stone to Optimistic. “You are the Keeper. This belongs to you.”

  “What happened last night?” Zhane spoke from the far side, and Eliesmore noticed they were all awake. “There was a green light. Was that you, Ellagine?”

  Ellagine sat cross-legged against the back of a wall; she seemed unharmed as she shook her hair back. “No, I am not a Healer. I thought Dathiem recovered some lost healing resources.”

  “No.” Dathiem raised his eyebrows. “I felt it, too.”

  “It was not a power I have felt before,” Idrithar spoke softly, his eyes half shut. “I think there is another explanation for this.”

  “What is it?” Wekin touched his head as if it hurt to speak. “Are there other White Steeds out there with power?”

  “Nay,” Idrithar hushed him. “It means the balance is swaying; the powers are awakening. It means it is time for us to go to the Constel Heights.”

  As if confirming his words, Optimistic took the Green Stone out of the bag. Cupping it in his hands, he admired the light drifting from it. Eliesmore, who was closest, looked over, and he thought he detected a silver line running across the stone. Was the stone waking up? A thrill of anticipation surged through Eliesmore. Before he could ask further questions, Optimistic hid the stone, and the moment was gone.

  “The Rakhai are still out there,” Zhane said. “On the far side of the canyon.”

  “We have to go another way,” Arldrine remarked. “We cannot face them again.”

  “Where will we go?” Yamier paused rummaging through his pack; he was counting portions of food.

  “We shall walk under the mountain of fire.” Idrithar grunted. “The entrance can be reached through this c
ave. We must go stealthily, lest the dranagins awake.”

  “Dranagins,” Wekin whispered, his eyes shining.

  “Dranagins,” Yamier echoed.

  Dranagins. They were great lizard-like beasts with the power to spew fire from their snouts. Tales spoke of a dranagin’s ability to fly; it was rumored that dranagins, unlike Wyverns, had the capacity to speak the common tongue.

  Eliesmore crawled across the smooth cave floor toward Ellagine, biting his lip in pain as his half-healed ribs poked his soft insides.

  “Did they hurt you?” He eased up beside her, leaning against the cool wall.

  She raised her thin eyebrows. The silver reflection of the cave cast odd hues on the slope of her cheekbones.

  “No.” Her gaze pinpointed the crack where daylight filtered in. “There has been a shift in the balance of power. I have been gone too long. It’s fading.”

  “What powers?” He attempted to catch her eyes. She lifted her chin, refusing to look at him.

  “The power of the Iaens. It was foretold that if the Iaens are gone from the lands of Shimla for too long, their powers will weaken and fade. I feel it happening to me.” She lifted a hand, watching the green hue. It did not shine with the same potency. “The Rakhai are gaining power; we are losing. I cannot go much farther with you, Eliesmore.” At her last words, she dropped her brave stance, her dark eyes meeting his. “Mortality reaches out a hand to strike. I’d hoped perhaps the old laws would roll back and give us grace.”

  “There is grace,” he assured her, thinking of the Green Stone. “We are close to the Constel Heights.”

  “I do not speak of the quest to dissolve the Green Stone because when you succeed, you will balance the powers of light and darkness, bringing a great war between the mortals and immortals. Nay, I speak of my own power. I was not attacked; I was not hurt because I cannot hurt them back. I have nothing left to give.”