Eliesmore shook his head as he glanced at Optimistic. This was the end.
The next day was the twenty-fifth of September. In the morning, they passed a stream and followed it until it dried up. Eliesmore fell in step with Optimistic and Visra, who winked at him. She walked flat-footed and had folded her wings away; Eliesmore had not seen her fly since her wing had been broken.
“Eliesmore, how do you find the desert?” She scooped up a handful of sand and let it flow through her fingers.
“Everything looks the same,” he shrugged. “I am grateful Zhane knows the way.”
“I will tell you what I think.” She made a disgusted face. “It is hot and terrible. And there is nothing to kill because the sun did all the work.”
“Visra,” Optimistic scolded, chuckling.
“You laugh.” She poked him in the ribs. “The Holesmoles were better. It was dark and cool with plenty of strange beasts to kill.” She shuddered even as she uttered the words.
“Visra, may I ask a question?” Eliesmore spoke tentatively.
“Oh.” She covered her mouth with her hand; her voice dripped with sarcasm. “You want to speak with me? I am honored.”
Eliesmore bit his lip. “I am serious,” he spoke earnestly. “I think you might be the only one who will speak honestly with me.”
“Ellagine will not answer your questions?” Visra wiggled her eyebrows, turning to steal an obvious glance at Ellagine.
“I…” He paused, scratching his head. He was flustered. “Never mind.”
“Oh, you can’t say no to me. I want to know. What is the question?” Visra placed her hands on her hips, grinning mischievously as she walked. “What is the question?” she asked again.
“I’m curious too.” Optimistic took her side. “Eliesmore, enlighten us.”
“I’ve heard it said that the bond between a mortal and immortal is forbidden. Why is that?” Eliesmore spewed out the question before he lost his resolve.
Visra raised her eyebrows, and her eyes were wide. “Humm…why? You have heard the tales of Magdela the Monrage and her rise to power?” Eliesmore and Optimistic nodded. “She ruled for 100 years, first as a White Steed and then, finally, as a Black Steed. She was the first Blended One to rise to power, and she was a Lady of the Green People. A Queen.” Visra held up her hands, imitating a crown. Her tone dropped lower. “She was odd though. She was only half Green Person; the other half was mortal. She had the blood of a Tider.” Visra shrugged. “Or so rumor says. She wasn’t evil at first, not when her rule began. It was only when she began to study the Great-Black-Evil that she became two-faced, destroying her reputation. When Magdela the Monrage turned on the Iaens, the elders rose up and weaved a powerful spell. They cursed the bond between a mortal and immortal, banishing the mortals from the inner circles of Shimla.”
“I don’t understand,” Eliesmore interrupted her. “Because one person made a terrible choice, the immortals decided to curse the bond between a mortal and immortal for eternity? It seems harsh. One cannot expect all Blended Ones nor all mortals and immortals to turn to evil ways.”
Visra arched her eyebrow as if she disagreed. “One cannot expect?” She gave a short laugh. “You would not do well standing trial before the old councils. They had no mercy. Glashar was one of them,” she mumbled under her breath.
“I think it was an excessive decision,” Eliesmore went on. “After all, Magdela the Monrage went to the Changers; she chose to study the Great-Black-Evil.”
“I know Iaens keep their names hidden for they are sacred,” Optimistic cut in. “But no one speaks the name of her parents. Who were they? Do you know?”
“Their names were hidden, forgotten, and erased.” Visra grinned. “This is dull talk; I can give you no more answers.”
“Thank you. It does help some, although it doesn’t make sense,” Eliesmore expressed his gratitude.
Visra held up a finger, stopping him. “It does make sense.” She grinned wickedly. “Haven’t you heard the warning? All immortals speak it at one time or another: beware the Green People. They are up to something.”
She walked away smirking, elbowing Yamier and Wekin apart as she joined them.
Eliesmore felt as if a sword of ice stabbed his heart. He took a deep breath, meeting Optimistic’s calm gaze.
“Don’t worry, Eliesmore,” Optimistic comforted him. “You can’t take everything Visra says word for word.”
“No, she is not the first one who has said such things. Optimistic, what if the Iaens are right? What if the Green People are up to something and we are too blind to see it?”
“Eliesmore, you cannot think like that. My parents were mortals like yours, and they spoke highly of the Green People and the time they spent with the Iaens. Think of the time you have spent with them. It is clear the old laws have fallen. Times have changed; the bonds between mortals and immortals are no longer cursed.”
Before Eliesmore could voice his disagreement, Glashar shouted, “We’re being followed. It looks like Fastshed and company.”
A cloud of white sand and dust rose up behind them. A solo, black bird flew south with a warning cry. As the nine horses broke out of the cloud of dust, the company stopped, their faces turning somber at what they saw.
“What happened to them?” Wekin was the first to speak.
“Do you think the Rakhai got them?” Yamier suggested. “We last saw them at the Cave of Disappearance with the bálangers.”
“Yes, that situation was dire, but it should not have changed their decision,” Optimistic protested.
“If they are willing, we will ride as far as we can on them,” Zhane told them. “Keep your lips sealed.”
Fastshed and company slowed their pace as they reached the company. They stretched their long necks down. Eliesmore marveled at the change that had come over them. Only two of the horses were shining bright white: Flywinger and the horse Arldrine used to ride that was called Goldwind. The others were light brown.
“The Black Horse Lords ride behind us,” Fastshed announced as he trotted up to Zhane.
“How far away?” Zhane asked.
“At least a day. They ride hard.” Fastshed’s dark eyes took in the size of the company. “Where is Idrithar?”
“Some of us have fallen.” Zhane bent his head. “May we ride?”
“Yes,” Fastshed affirmed.
Eliesmore walked to Flywinger, noting Optimistic walked to Goldwind. Dathiem helped the shorter ones mount up. Eliesmore saw Dathiem kiss Glashar before he turned to mount up. Clearly, they were not worried about the curse between mortals and immortals.
In spite of the horses being darker, Eliesmore enjoyed the ride. He had forgotten how freeing it felt to speed through the land with the wind at his back. He leaned down over Flywinger and said in his ear, “Can you talk as you run?”
“Some,” answered Flywinger. “What do you want to know?”
“What happened to you at the Cave of Disappearance?”
“We escaped. Ran past the Monrages.” Flywinger spoke unevenly between breaths. “What happened to you?”
“We went through the Holesmoles,” Eliesmore said.
“You did what?” Flywinger whinnied, slowing down from his fast gallop.
“Shh…don’t let the others know. We went through the Holesmoles, and it was horrible.” Eliesmore shuddered at the memory.
“We went over,” Flywinger went on. “The mountains were hard. The Black Horse Lords chased us. We had an argument about turning back. Fastshed and the others are losing belief in the White Steeds.”
“Oh,” sighed Eliesmore. “While they are with us, we must travel with all speed.”
Flywinger bent his neck as if to nod and quickened his pace to catch up with the others. Eliesmore held Flywinger’s mane and leaned into the gallop. Closing his eyes, he smiled as the breeze blew past him.
Sometime later, he opened his eyes and looked up at the dark blue sky with clouds lazily floating by. He looked back, an
d he could see a mass of darkness. Eliesmore shouted up to Zhane: “The woísts and Black Horse Lords are coming!”
“Full speed ahead.” Zhane waved them forward.
A hot wind blew as the horses galloped through the sand. They went until their feet were caked with sand and all eighteen of the travelers were hot and thirsty. At last, they came to a stream, and by that time, they could no longer see the black pack behind them. The horses plunged their noses into the water while the others slipped off the horses and drank.
When night darkened around them, they stopped for a quick reprieve. “Shouldn’t we continue?” Eliesmore asked.
“If you feel like it,” Dathiem answered.
“Let’s keep going,” Zhane confirmed.
They mounted back up, and though no one said it, they all were considering how long Fastshed and company would stay with them.
They galloped into the darkness of the night. The moon was hidden by clouds and the stars did not dare peek out. Eliesmore wondered if a storm was brewing because a fierce wind blew. It sometimes lifted the sand a few feet and scattered it back on the ground. It was annoying for the horses because they had to run with sand blowing against their legs. The wind made the air hotter, and Eliesmore began to feel out of sorts. He wished himself in a forest where the trees stretched their great leaves to cool the earth and strange enchanting shadows flitted through the trees. In a forest, one never knew what could happen; in a wide, desert plain, one could see everything.
The wind kept picking up, and by morning, Zhane shouted, “Lie down, cover your faces, and don’t move. A sand storm is coming!”
The company slid off the horses and threw themselves on the ground, covering themselves with their cloaks despite the heat. The wind was strong and blew sand everywhere.
The storm finally let up when it was close to the second meal. The Green Company stood, blinking sand out of their eyes and shaking their clothes. The desert was changed; it looked as if someone had come through and swept sand into mounds. Eliesmore looked around; he was confused. He couldn’t tell whether they were going backward or forward or to the left or right. He felt tired, hungry, dirty, and thirsty. He looked at Zhane for direction.
“Wekin, will you draw us a map?” Zhane asked.
Wekin groaned as he sat up. “I’d rather have food, water, and sleep,” he complained, but he traced a map of the western South World in the sand.
When Wekin finished his map, Zhane examined it. “You left out most of the streams and rivers.”
“Even those aren’t on the most detailed maps,” Wekin retorted indignantly.
Zhane stroked his chin as he considered their next steps. “Ahead there ought to be a river or a stream that we can follow the rest of the way to the Constel Heights. The other one we were following dried up long ago. Come on. We shall all walk to find the river.”
“Walk? And when shall we stop for rest?” Wekin exclaimed.
“At night of course,” replied Zhane and walked off.
“Night? But that’s a long way off!” protested Wekin.
“Not as long as you think, Wekin Cron,” Dathiem said as he followed Zhane.
“What about eating?” questioned Yamier.
“When we reach the stream,” Zhane called back.
Although the stream seemed to be just around the next mound of sand, it wasn’t. The companions walked on sore feet and tired hooves until nightfall. The stream appeared, winding through the sandy banks. They drank, refilled their water skins, and refreshed themselves before passing out to sleep.
The days blurred together, one after the other. Fastshed and company ran while the woísts and Black Horse Lords followed the Green Company. One day, Eliesmore woke to see seven of the nine horses were dark brown. The next moment, they were galloping east toward the prairie lands of Monoxie and the Jaded Sea. As they went, Eliesmore saw them turn black, and the word “traitors” hung in his mind. As he watched, a velvet nose bumped his shoulder. Flywinger stood behind him. “I’ll go with you, Eliesmore.”
“Thank you.” Eliesmore placed a hand on Flywinger’s nose. “I’m afraid it won’t help much now. Go ahead to the Constel Heights, and wait for me there.”
“I will meet you there,” Flywinger said and sprang away.
Eliesmore watched as Flywinger galloped away. Suddenly Goldwind was beside him. “I would like to join Flywinger,” she began. “But I will go see about the woísts. My mistress was with them last when she fell. I would like to know about it, with your leave.”
Eliesmore nodded. “You may go.”
“Thank you,” called Goldwind, and she, too, galloped off.
Eliesmore planted his feet and crossed his arms, feeling a scowl cross his brow.
“I saw them turn.” Zhane came up beside him.
“What happens now?” Eliesmore asked.
Zhane dropped a hand to his sword hilt. “We are five days from the Constel Heights. We will fight.”
76
Sarhorr
Year 797 (146 years ago). Daygone.
“You lied to me!” she accused, pressing a finger at into his chest. “You did not tell me who you were and what you were. You let me believe you had the same desires I had and now look at us. Look at her!”
They were in the tower. Below, on the ground, their daughter stood. She was a Changer. He could see her shifting, looking like a Green Person, then like a mortal, and finally like him: a blend of flesh and spirit. Her power was strong; she would persuade many to follow her. Forcing his gaze away from Magdela he turned back to his former lover, Lady of the Green People. He slapped her hand away. He was annoyed with her anger and frustrated that she dared come to rebuke him instead of celebrating the life they had created together. Created. So, he was allowed to create children. Blood of my blood.
“I never lied to you,” he growled at her, determined to show her he was the alpha. This time they would play games according to his rules and not hers. Her time was over. “Perhaps you have always known who I am. What I am. What my name is. Yet you refused to reveal yours, forcing me to search for it. Yet I should have known all along exactly who you are.”
“You betrayed me.” Green light exploded around her. He could see the flames on her fingers reaching for his neck. It would be too easy to rip her open and to tussle with her as he drained her dry, ripping her strength from her bosom. “You betrayed my family.”
“You cannot be angry with me,” he bellowed. Her fury caused him to ignite. “I told you who I was. I told you of my crimes, yet you came willingly, tossing yourself at me and seducing me with knowledge of the Green Stone. Now I know who you are.”
She stopped. He’d struck a chord. His hand shot out, closing around her throat and squeezing. Her eyes narrowed as they gazed into his. Her eyes were as blue as the waves of Oceantic. Her feet kicked at him as he lifted her, holding her out over the highest tower. The wind nipped at her hair, blowing it around her face and allowing him to see the brown in it. He squeezed her throat, cutting off all air. Her fingers closed around his, unable to undo his iron grasp.
“I know who you are,” he repeated. And let go.
She dropped from his hands over the edge of the tower, falling into mist toward the rocks below. He watched with his eyes narrowed, waiting for the moment when his suspicions would be revealed. He would find out exactly who had been playing a game with him in his moment of weakness. No more. He cursed. No more.
Before her face hit the rocks, he saw the wings shoot out of her back, wings much like a Xctas. They had a span of six feet. With one beat of her wings, she was saved from death, and she rose. Green light furled from her body. She was spurred onward by the curling of her wings as she flew. She returned on the updraft of the air, coming back to the archway of his tower. She landed with her great wings still stretched out behind her.
“You.” Her finger jabbed out at him again as she caught her breath. Her face twisted. “Sarhorr,” she hissed his name.
“Shalidir,�
� he spat back.
77
Eliesmore
Zhane held out a hand for them to halt at the bottom of a grassy hill. It sloped upwards, and beyond it, Eliesmore could see a black flag, waving in the breeze.
“The castle lies just over the hill.” Zhane swung his pack down from his back and rolled it open.
“We are going in there, aren’t we?” Wekin asked, craning his neck to see more.
Zhane tossed waterskins into the grass. “No. Just Eliesmore and Optimistic.”
“You’re not coming with me?” Eliesmore managed to squeak out.
“No.” Steel clanged as Zhane unrolled a pack a sword hilts. They were replicas of the Jeweled Sword, and he stood, passing one to each of them. “We are the decoy. Confusion and stealth will help us. Put these over the hilt of your sword,” he instructed them. “They will fit. If we all carry the Jeweled Sword, the Black Steeds will not know whom to strike.”
Visra laughed. “They will know. They can smell power.”
Optimistic pulled out the Green Stone, shaking it out of the bag. “They can smell remnants of power. If we all hold the Green Stone, even for a moment, we can confuse them.”
Ellagine stepped back. “Go ahead,” she encouraged. “We Iaens do not need to touch it. They will not be looking for an immortal.”
“Listen.” Zhane focused on Eliesmore and Optimistic. “Keep your hoods up; the cloaks will give you limited invisibility. Go up this hill and across the meadow. You will see a courtyard with guards at the gate. Stay to the right and climb over the wall. If you see anyone look in your direction, stay still and stay low. Once you are in the courtyard, you will see a dark entrance. Enter and make an immediate left. Count thirty-six doors on your right and forty-two doors on your left. You will find a short hall with a door at the end. This door is where the fountain is. The halls are well-guarded, and the Dark Servant will sense your presence. Stay alert; you will have to be clever.”
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 102