The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  Cast the stone into the water.

  Wait and watch as it dissolves.

  Toss it up in the sky

  So to be a light to all.

  The Green Stone.

  Only after he had read the words, did Eliesmore notice he was holding his breath. He let it out and drew the Green Stone from his tunic. He held it in the palm of his hands, feeling a great need to fall to his knees and bow his head. An extraordinary power surged through the room as he took another step toward the fountain. The stone vibrated, and he could see it had grown bigger, a ripple of cracks appearing on its surface. Forcing himself past his awe and fear, he kept walking toward the fountain. He swallowed hard when he reached it.

  Before he could place the stone in the water, the basin began to shimmer, and three white beings arose from the water, climbing out of the fountain. Their eyes were colorless and lidless. Lights weaved through their bodies. They held out their hands, and Eliesmore stepped back in surprise.

  He wasn't sure if he should be afraid. There were three, but they did not seem to be Changers. All the same, it was best to ask. “Who are you?”

  “We are the Truth Tellers. We come to you with a message from the King of the Land. The Creator.”

  The Truth Tellers. He had heard of them once in the tales from the Eastern World. They spoke a chant. It was a riddle they gave the Treasure Hunters. They always demanded death in exchange for their knowledge.

  “What are you doing here?” Eliesmore exclaimed.

  “We go where we are needed. We dwell in the Between. Do not do this. Do not dissolve the Green Stone. It is a great power and with that power comes a curse and a price. A curse will doom this world, and the price will be the weight of knowledge you must bear. Do not dissolve the stone. It is a trap. It is what the Changers want."

  “But there is the prophecy. This is what I am supposed to do. I am the One who will save this world. My friends are out there dying; a great army races toward them. I must dissolve the stone.” He felt flustered. He had come all this way only for some strange beings to tell him he was wrong. He searched his heart, yet his will remained firm. He had to dissolve the Green Stone; there was no other path.

  “If you do this, you accept the responsibility of what will happen next. You can only save the world for a time. Evil will run its course and eventually return. When it does, there will be no hope, and this world will end.” The three beings continued to speak in unison, swaying back and forth as they delivered their fearsome words.

  “Yes. When the end of time comes. I understand this is only temporary, but if it lasts for thousands of years, my quest will not be in vain.”

  “No. There will be hidden impacts. There will be a ripple that will begin the end of time. Do not dissolve the stone.”

  “What would you have me do instead? The world is fallen. We cannot live in the terror and evil.”

  “Let the world fall now as it is. Now is a relief versus what is to come. The Creator will return and show you a way out.”

  “When? When will this happen? The world has been crying out for a hundred years with no hope. I cannot listen to your words. I cannot believe what you say. Be gone from here, and stop distracting me from my quest.”

  “You were warned.” The three beings turned, disappearing back into the waters from whence they had come.

  Heart pounding, Eliesmore waited. He wanted to forget the strange words; there was no place for them in his mind.

  Finally, he allowed himself to move.

  Holding the Green Stone in both hands, he lowered it into the basin. His hands chilled against the icy touch of the water. He watched, expecting something to happen.

  There was nothing.

  His breath caught. Was he wrong?

  Eliesmore waited, yet nothing happened.

  Leaving the stone in the water, he backed away to read the words in Iaen, taking the time to translate them again. The Green Stone had to be dissolved. It had to be broken open; it had to disintegrate. He paced for a moment. He was frightened of bringing violence to the sacred aura of the tower. An idea came to him as he returned to the basin. The stone had sunk to the bottom where the water marred its reflection. Lifting his sword over the fountain, he brought the tip down hard on top of the Green Stone. As the Jeweled Sword struck the Green Stone, Eliesmore was hurled backward. The babbling of the foundation ceased, and motes of green light began to rise, floating in sparks above the waters.

  Eliesmore clamored to his feet, gasping as the Green Stone rose out of the water. It was bigger and misshapen as it began to burst. Streaks of green split it open while the light blues of the shimmering water flowed off of it. The stone continued to expand as a humming vibration sounded. A note, high and pure, rent the air, and then the stone exploded.

  A hurricane of green light blasted through the room, wailing as it shot across the chamber. The water turned to green fire as the power ricocheted off the walls, rising to a sharp point before it plunged into Eliesmore. A flash struck his vision. He took a breath as light and power filled him. Just when he thought he was brimming over, it persisted, flooding into him. He lifted his hands, struggling for breath as the power continued to pour in. Opening his mouth, he allowed a silent scream to take over his body.

  Suddenly, he was five years old. He was underwater as he clung to the box that held the Jeweled Sword. The waves pounded him relentlessly as his arms and legs flailed, searching for the surface and a breath of fresh air to relieve his agony.

  Now his eyes grew wide as he struggled; his heart burst as his muscles stretched, rearranging to hold power.

  He flung back his head. His nostrils were wide as he gasped for breath, and abruptly, a refreshing sensation coursed through him. He saw the green light spin away from him and shoot upwards out of the tower. It blasted into the sky. He took another gulp of air. His chest heaved as he kneeled. The words to “Song” echoed across the stone walls of the room.

  “When the terrorizer of the Black Steeds and White Steeds,

  Magdela the Monrage, has gone and been killed,

  When everyone has gone and hidden in the land down South,

  Up there will rise, Finder of the Jeweled Sword,

  Conqueror of Evil.

  He will come when he is young.

  He will wield the Jeweled Sword.

  He will dissolve the Green Stone.

  Where he goes, the people will no longer live in hiding.

  They will come out and rejoice.

  For evil has receded, but not completely destroyed until the end of Time.”

  A wind began to blow as the voices spoke. Eliesmore became aware that this was only the beginning. He opened his eyes. He was unaware he’d had them shut. As he looked up out of the tower to the sky, he saw the Green Stone. It was a light shining in the heavens among the stars. He stood, basking in the glow of relief. He was the One. He had dissolved the Green Stone.

  The ripple of hope faded from the room, the glamor evaporating away. It unfurled like a scroll, a hush of terror rolling across the stone floor. Eliesmore found himself standing in a room instead of the tower. Balconies were above him, allowing the onlookers to watch the ceremonies taking place below. The balconies reached to the sky, and on each one, there stood a row of archers. Their black arrows pointed down at Eliesmore. At the top, he saw a horned shadow. A guttural order sounded, and the arrows were released.

  Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword

  The Four Worlds Series Book 4

  “Long may you live

  Long may you prosper

  Spread your seed far and wide

  May your bloodline

  The new breed

  Grow ever strong

  Blood of the undying

  Blood of the immortal

  Blood of the mortals

  Blood of my blood

  Long may you live

  Long may you prosper

  You shall walk in the light

  You shall walk in the dark

&n
bsp; You will blend with the air and land

  Of shadows and sorrow

  Of love and light

  Of mischief and mayhem

  Of folly and forgiveness

  Long may you live

  Long may you prosper”

  1

  Legone

  Year 762. (181 years ago). The South World.

  “The Green Stone,” he echoed in awe. “It holds the power of creation?”

  “Maybe, we do not know what it can do,” his wife replied as she took the Clyear of Power from his hands. “My love, I have many things to tell you.”

  In reply, he draped his free arm around her waist as he caressed her hair. When he drew back his eyes were dark, swimming with desire. “Tell me,” he whispered, stealing a kiss from her lips.

  Her cool fingers brushed his cheek, climbing his face to tuck loose hairs behind his ear. “Do you trust me?”

  He pulled her hips against his until there was no space between them. “After all we have been through, you ask me this?” His eyes roamed her face, searching for answers.

  “What did you do with the Ruler?”

  He froze, shades of fear rippled over his face. He opened his mouth, intending to answer her question with another question, yet the intense look on her face made him pause. “How dare you ruin our reunion with that demon,” he frowned, his voice more unhappy than angry. “If you must know I captured his spirit in the Boleck and dropped it into the transformative waters.”

  “Did you see it,” she demanded with calm insistence. “Did you see it sink and dissolve, was it destroyed?”

  Shocked registered on his face as he stared, unseeing, past her. Suddenly, he dropped the grip he held on her. He stumbled away, fear clouded his sight. “No,” he whispered. “No.” He spun to face her. “Paleidir,” he pleaded. “Tell me, be honest with me. What do you know?”

  Paleidir’s head dropped, she uttered her next words like one in great pain. “It is likely he is not dead then. Legone, there is more. He was not the only Changer. The others are here, in the South World.”

  Legone collapsed to his knees in the sand, shaking his head. “This cannot be.” He felt her hand on his shoulder as she walked past him, into the waves. She lifted the Clyear of Power and began to chant. As Legone watched, the crystal winged horse spread its wings and took flight from her fingers. It had not gone more than a few feet when it dissolved into fine mist and dropped into the waters. He stood in confusion. “What did you do?”

  She twirled and flung herself into his arms and buried her head in his chest. He could feel her shaking, and her green shimmer overwhelmed him. “It is done.” She lifted her head, touching her forehead to his. “I destroyed the Clyear of Power. None can use its power, and it will not return until it finds the Jeweled Sword. The only weapon that can destroy a Changer.”

  “And that will be our salvation?” Legone confirmed. “How long will it take?”

  Paleidir kissed him hard, twining her hands through his hair, pulling him toward her as if she wished they were one and the same. “At least two hundred years, time we cannot waste.”

  “Will we leave? Will we run from this land?” Legone asked. “I think I could bear anything, as long as I am with you.”

  She sighed as she kissed him again. “No, my love. We have to stay. We are going to have a child.”

  “A child,” he murmured, smiling. Reaching down he ran his hands over her belly, searching for a sign of the child to be. “I thought it was impossible.”

  “It is forbidden, not impossible. We shall have the first Blended One.”

  “Did you do this for me?”

  “Yes,” she kissed his neck. “Yes, I was not sure you would return to me. I needed something, someone, in case you did not.”

  “And your people, the Green People, they will not drive us into exile for ignoring their laws?”

  She laughed, the laugh he remembered with the silvery bells in it. “I am Queen of the Green People now, and you are my King. Our word is law.”

  Doubt poked at him, forcing his next words. “They say Blended Ones are evil; there is a reason it is forbidden.”

  Paleidir wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her nose bumping against his. “Blended Ones are good and evil. They will be the downfall of this world and its salvation. The One will be a Blended One.”

  2

  Eliesmore

  Year 943. Present Day. Castle Range.

  Eliesmore stared in horror as the arrows flew toward him. The seconds seemed to crawl as he watched almost as if he were only a spectator. Why had the Changer let him dissolve the Green Stone? Had the Changer stood there with his army, watching and waiting? Could the Changer hear what the Truth Tellers told him? Why the archers? And what should he do?

  Although he knew he possessed the power of the Green Stone, he did not understand how to use it to fight a Changer. Why hadn’t he asked Idrithar or Ellagine when he had the chance? Now he was alone, and unsure what to do. In the moment of indecision, Eliesmore remembered his cloak. Hurling himself to the ground, he flung the hood of his cloak over his head as the pointed shafts of arrows shattered around him.

  After a second, he assumed it was safe and stood up, allowing the cloak to slip from his shoulders. The Crons stared at their arrows, pinpointing the chamber although none of them had wounded Eliesmore. A volley of awed whispers hushed across the room as the Crons pointed at him. A green glow still bathed the chamber, and when Eliesmore lifted his hand, he saw waves of emerald green glowing on it. Making a fist, he watched with curiosity as the light resettled around him, reminding him of his purpose, reminding him who he was. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes as he stared up, past the rows of Crons to the highest balcony where the horned shadow watched him. He had come to save the Four Worlds, to bring life and hope to all. The Black Steeds were not his enemies, they could be saved. Drawing the Jeweled Sword, he held it out and watched the spires of light catch the jewels and spin a prism of color across the chamber.

  “Look!” he shouted, and it seemed his voice was louder and deeper than before. “My name is Eliesmore. I am the One. The Great Conqueror. I hold the Jeweled Sword. I dissolved the Green Stone. I am not your enemy, the Changers are. So run. Run for your lives. Run for freedom and hope. Run. Let me face my enemy. Our enemy. The battle. This battle. Is mine!”

  He felt every word ring in his soul yet an Iaen command poked his mind, begging to be said, wanting to be let out. A command whose meaning he could not understand. Sheathing the Jeweled Sword, he ran, springing for the balconies and climbed. His fingers moved faster than before, and the railing was easy to hold onto. When he reached the first balcony, the Crons retreated, dropping their bows as they turned and fled. As he climbed he heard it, a deep vibrant tone, unspoken, yet felt. An evil permuted the air.

  “Hold your ground!” The voice of a mortal roared. “Stand firm. It is only one Cron. He is not stronger than the Dark Servant. We will win this day!”

  Despite the command, the archers continued to flee, some shouting and shrieking in fear as Eliesmore climbed. Streaks of green light flowed out behind him. He was halfway up when a bolt struck him. It slammed into his side, tossing him into midair and hurling him downwards. Fingers reaching out he grabbed for something, yet his hands only felt light, and he fell back down toward the depths of the chambers. His mouth opened, and a yell bellowed out of his throat as the knowledge that such a fall from such a height would kill a mortal. The stones seemed to rise to meet him and, although he was not on the ground yet, he felt the tower quake. Bows and arrows fell in a myriad, some splashing onto the basin, bouncing off of its curved sides. Light unfurled as his body smacked the stone floor. He landed flat on his back, his breath forsaking his body with a whoosh. Tilting his head back, he waited for the blur of pain which would make him scream. After a long minute, his breath came back, burning his lungs. He gasped as he sat up, surprised to sense other than some scratches, he seemed unharmed. Gingerly he got
to his feet, taking in the now empty balconies. A moment later, the ground shook again, and a horned wolf landed in front of him, holding a pitchfork.

  A cold dread formed around Eliesmore’s heart as he fixed his eyes on the creature, knowing with certainty the Dark Servant stood in front of him. There were no tales which described the true form of a Changer. Changers were known for taking the appearance of a mortal, yet the creature that stood before Eliesmore did not bear a resemblance to any mortal.

  The face of a gray wolf rose before Eliesmore while obsidian eyes without pupils glared at him. The Dark Servant stood on two hind legs. The rest of its body taking on the form of a massive mortal with thick legs, a broad chest, and immense arms. In one hand, it held a pitchfork that was so black Eliesmore felt his eyes were drowning in it. Hints of a shadow seemed to crawl over the three-pronged weapon, and as the Dark Servant thumped it against the stone, red sparks exploded from it.

  As he stepped back, Eliesmore noticed that instead of ears the beast had two horns that curved forward. The Dark Servant threw back his head and howled, the drawn-out whine sending a shiver down Eliesmore’s bruised spine. The Dark Servant pounded his chest with a furry, clawed hand, stamped the pitchfork once and howled again.

  Eliesmore stumbled as he backed away, one foot falling into the deep crevices of the Light of Shalidir. As he regained his balance, the Dark Servant charged. Eliesmore leaped out of the way before the curved horns could skewer him and lifted his sword. He wanted to engage the monster in a dialogue to determine where the Phutal was, but the beast roared again and charged.