Glashar turned just before she disappeared, lifting one pale hand. “If you follow Ellagine, the Iaen shall rise again.”
Visra pressed her hands together like a prayer. As Glashar disappeared through the wood, Visra heard a voice begin to sing a high wild song. A chant undulated through the trees. The wind began to blow, a slight shudder as eternal voices began to chime in. Visra’s wings fluttered as she listened to the call. The cycle of life was returning after the death the Rakhai brought. The Iaen would be born anew. Their numbers would inhabit the woods as they once did. Yet, there was a new feeling in the wind, the promise of the past faded and only the blessing of the future remained. The Iaen would return, not as they once were, but as a new kind of immortal, with a new history. The hereditary knowledge had changed, the taint of a curse, of evil, had vanished, all that remained was purity.
Standing, Visra lifted her wings and flew upward. It was time to go west, to the thick of the battle, and fight the Black Steeds wherever she found them. No longer was she a member of the Green Company. No longer did she belong in the forest of the Iaen. No longer would she sing songs, longing for days of old. It was time to go to war, to cut the ties between herself and the forest. Her people were gone. Her time was over. There was nothing left for her but bloodshed. Even as she flew upward a throng of glee flowed through her. She balled her hands into fists. It was time to kill.
48
Eliesmore
The vessel came to rest on the shores of the Eastern Hill Countries, banking in the thick reeds of Truemonix.
“It’s stuck,” Skip announced as she leaned over the railing, peering down to see what the ship was trapped on.
“It doesn’t matter,” Eliesmore called, a lightness to his tone as he swung down. “We’re back now.”
“Oh, the glories of the east,” Optimistic hummed as he grabbed a rope and swung off the boat, landing in a flourish beside Eliesmore.
“It’s beautiful,” Bruthen gasped, taking in the slope of the coast where wild grasses ran onward up to the foot of a forest.
Flywinger galloped up and down the shore, grateful to stretch his legs on firm ground.
Lythe trotted up and down the shore, sniffing the wild grasses, tentatively sticking out his tongue to taste them.
“This is where we leave you,” Eliesmore glanced at the brother and sister as they climbed down from the ship, sending looks of regret back toward the Jaded Sea.
“Where are you going?” asked Skip, flinging her long braid of hair behind her back.
“I am going to Daygone, to face a great Changer,” Eliesmore squared his shoulders, a sudden rush to get there passing through him. His fingers tingled as he touched the Jeweled Sword. There was no fear, only anticipation.
Skip’s eyes widened, and she stepped backward as she glanced north.
“Take Flywinger,” Eliesmore suggested. “He will take you to the fortress.” Flywinger trotted up at the sound of his name. “You know the way?” Eliesmore confirmed, reaching out to stroke Flywinger’s nose. Flywinger bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “Lythe, I want you to go with them. Daygone is no place for you.”
“I want to come with you,” Lythe whimpered, rubbing his head against Eliesmore’s leg. The lion cub had grown much bigger since they’d first met and was now too big for Eliesmore to lift.
“It is too dangerous, even with me with you,” Eliesmore stepped back. “Go, before your presence is noted and tracked along with ours.”
“I am going with you Eliesmore,” Optimistic told him, his words stating his decision was non-negotiable.
Skip reached toward Flywinger, grabbing his mane and swinging up. “Thank you,” she stared at first Optimistic and then Eliesmore. “No one has been kind to us in a long time; we will not forget you.”
Optimistic smiled, tugging a blond lock of hair. “You will see us again, although it may be long.”
Bruthen swung up being his sister, and the two waved, their faces set as Flywinger broke into a canter, moving in a southern direction toward the fortress.
Lythe hesitated, rubbing his head against Eliesmore’s legs until Eliesmore held him fast. “Go, I want you to be safe, but I will see you again when my business in Daygone is finished. For now, go to the fortress, enjoy food and sleep away the winter winds. I’ll find you when I return.”
With a last nuzzle, Lythe bounded off to catch up with Flywinger, Skip, and Bruthen, leaving Eliesmore and Optimistic alone on the shore.
“I hope they will not run into trouble along the way,” Eliesmore watched the disappearing forms of his companions.
“They’ll be safe,” Optimistic nodded. “Times are changing. White Steeds will no longer walk in fear. But come, Eliesmore, we should hasten to Daygone.”
“Aye,” Eliesmore agreed, leading the way northward.
The landscape changed. A heaviness grew in the air as they dashed toward barren slopes, and at times when Eliesmore glanced back, he saw a river of darkness following them.
“This will be different from Castle Range, I can feel it,” he told Optimistic. “We have no instructions; I’m not sure what to expect.”
“Whatever we face, we have the ability to overcome it, just think of all we have done thus far,” Optimistic scooped up a handful of soil and rubbed it between his fingers. “The ground becomes softer.”
“I see a river of black behind us, but my vision ahead is constricted,” Eliesmore narrowed his eyes. “There is a shimmer, a glow, I can’t tell what it is, but it’s blocking my view.”
At night when they slept, it seemed the stars glowed with a new luster, while the Green Light burned brighter in the sky, a beacon to all of hope and salvation. When Eliesmore looked up, he saw a circle of stars, dancing around the Green Light, and a peaceful feeling came over him. No matter what woes Daygone brought, he would rise, the great conqueror.
When morning dawned, he heard marching while a deadly chant swept through the air.
Trouble. Trouble. Deep black evil.
Trouble. Trouble. Deep black evil.
“Look. Daygone,” Optimistic pointed as he pulled an arrow from his quiver.
“And woísts,” Eliesmore drew his sword, nodding at the monstrous creatures that marched them.
The land rose before them while a slightly sweet smell drifted through the air as if incense was burning in worship of a great power.
“We might have to fight from here on out,” Eliesmore mused.
“If it comes down to it, don’t wait for me,” Optimistic encouraged. “Like we did in Castle Range, you must continue onward. I will be fine.”
Eliesmore frowned, understanding the truth to Optimistic’s words, yet not liking what he heard. Instead of responding he drew his sword and began to run, “Stay behind me!”
The creatures came closer, yet when they saw Eliesmore and Optimistic, instead of running forward with murderous intent, they backed away, spreading into a long line. One of them bumped against an invisible barrier, and Eliesmore saw it ripple and spring into life. He gasped as the true vision of Daygone appeared, a land of red with a tower rising in the center. His eyes focused in on the top of the tower, and he knew it was where he needed to go to find the Dark One and the Phutal. The view rippled away, leaving only a barren slope, and Eliesmore realized he must be looking at kind of barrier, a shield of some sort that protected Daygone.
Woísts lined up before him in a row, guarding the shield which guarded Daygone, while one of Optimistic’s arrows flew into their midst. A shriek rang out, yet the woísts grouped closer. Three more arrows flew before Eliesmore reached them and swung, heads flying as he mowed through the woísts. He lashed out with the sword while ripples of green slipped around him, breaking the concentration of the creatures and rendering their every move ineffective. They collapsed in a pile of flying limbs while Eliesmore stepped over them, moving toward the barrier. He heard Optimistic running down the hill to join him.
Eliesmore reached out a hand and touched a gooey s
ubstance that came away on his fingers like a transparent film.
He tried again as Optimistic ran up. “Can you get through?”
Eliesmore moved his body against it, and the substance started pulling him through. Pinching his nose shut he stuck his head through, squeezing his eyes closed before blinking as crisp cold air touched his face like fingertips of an ice queen.
“Eliesmore,” Optimistic’s voice called yet it seemed to be in the distance.
A black butterfly with red patterns on its wings drifted past him while the burnt red grass stood at attention. It was peaceful. Quiet. It seemed as if he’d peeked through a portal into a haunted kingdom with a luster of sleep upon it.
Eliesmore pulled back, facing Optimistic. “What’s wrong?”
“Look,” Optimistic held out a hand, touching the substance. His fingers slid off something solid, and he tried again, pushing his body against it as if the barrier were solid stone.
“You can’t get through?” Eliesmore leaned against the barrier while a gentle suction pulled him in, while Optimistic thumped against a solid mass.
“No, it seems as if the barrier only wants you to go through,” Optimistic pulled another arrow from his bow. “Go ahead, more woísts arrive, I can hear them.”
Eliesmore snapped his head around, staring south. “Optimistic, run, get out of danger. Don’t wait for me.”
Optimistic put his hand on Eliesmore’s shoulder and pushed. “There is no time to waste, go, kill the Dark One, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be here. There’s a reason this shield allows you to enter.”
“I will return,” Eliesmore stated.
A strong sense of fate overcame him as he gave in to the pull of the barrier. A ruby and obsidian world of silence welcomed him. A blanket of frost covered the land as if an invisible road opened before him, a sure and steady path leading to the tower.
49
Eliesmore
Eliesmore walked through the stone world, watching his steps. Strings of black ivy ran across the crumbled stone. The walls of the tower were open to the heavens, arched gateways welcoming the pure light. The silence was intimidating. He could hear each gentle step as he crept upwards, knowing there was only one destination, the top. Elaborate stone steps curved toward the heavens, tilted forward as in worship of the beings at the summit. Eliesmore climbed with his sword out, expecting the unexpected, waiting for creatures of darkness to leap out and attempt to strike him down. His mind was numb. He had come to the end and yet he was unsure how he felt. Doubt and fear no long plagued him, yet an uncanny disturbance settled upon him, almost as if he were coming home.
The room at the top was devoid of life. Walls rose up, full of archways pointing to the heavens. Carved statues with wings on their backs stared in forms of worship or servitude. One had her hands covering her face as if she were weeping, yet what arrested Eliesmore’s attention was the altar. On it sat a wide basin, and over the basin a thick black book had been placed. It lay open, a quill marking the place where the writer or reader had paused to vacate the premises. Eliesmore stood in the middle of the room, feeling no sway to move toward the book.
Presently, a male appeared. He stood in the middle of an archway; his hands were clasped together in front of him in a matter so still, Eliesmore wondered if he had been standing there all along and had simply dismantled his cloak of invisibility. He was tall with fine skin, smooth without blemish or wrinkles. His lips were stained red, and his eyes were dark depths of endless knowledge. Straight black hair fell to his shoulders, and Eliesmore could not help but admire the beauty the male possessed. He was unlike any mortal, nay, unlike any immortal, a walking instrument of perfection.
The male’s face was expressionless as he watched Eliesmore, his gaze flitting to the book momentarily as if he wished he had it in his hands instead of watching it cover the altar. “You must be the One. They call you Eliesmore,” the male offered. He took a step forward, his violet robes billowed about his body, then shivering as they wrapped around him.
“And you are?” Eliesmore asked although he knew the male had to be Sarhorr the Ruler, the Dark One. There could be no other explanation.
The male waved a hand, casting the question away. “It does not concern you who I am. You wish to hear me utter my name. You know, yet you wait for me to tell you, to confirm your knowledge.”
Eliesmore paused. It was true. “Yes.”
“There is no use denying it,” the male smiled, an expression which made him appear both desirable and sinister. “I have lived over nine hundred years. I have seen this moment dance again and again in my mind. You and I have lived for this meeting; our fates have been pushing us toward this precise moment since the creation of the Four Worlds.”
Eliesmore tried to keep his expression clear. The words dropped from his lips, regardless. “How do you know?”
“How do I know?” The male glanced away in consideration, his keen eyes sweeping across the room before returning to rest on Eliesmore. “I have always known, since the day I met the Tider. The Tider who changed the course of my destiny. He and I were meant to clash for all eternity, but you and I have similar goals. We are the same.”
“We are not the same,” Eliesmore snapped, his hand tightening around the hilt of the Jeweled Sword.
The male nodded, and Eliesmore felt his body nod in agreement, even though his words said differently.
“Oh,” the male continued, his words weaving through the air like a hypnotic song. “We are the same. Think of yourself. You have consumed the power of the Green Stone, the power of creation. You are now the most powerful being in the Four Worlds. You are immortal. You shall walk this world for a thousand years, watching while love and regret drip away, and death becomes all consuming. Now you yearn for years of peace, but it will bring boredom, and soon you will seek strife. You shall seek the ruin of all, which shall be your salvation. Immortality is not a gift. It is a curse, and you have cursed yourself with it. I have lived a hundred lives, and I have learned what will bring immortals true happiness, pleasure, and wholeness. It is not in the saving of the mortals nor the beauty of this world. It is in paradise. I have taken my time to find what I truly desire. I have an unending life. I have a family. I have everything you desire; only you don’t know it yet. My words seem like folly to your mind because you are too young. You do not know the depths of life. Yet. Which is why you will not take my offer, but you will give me everything I want.”
“I will not,” Eliesmore stated, unnerved by the speech and the male’s strange mannerisms.
“Yes, you will. I know all. I have seen all. You would do well to listen to me, young one. Your ruin will be in your future. Why do you think I allowed you to dissolve the Green Stone? Murder my brother? Anticipate murdering my sister? Those are my desires. You are doing what I wish for you to do.”
“Yet, I have come to kill you, to stop you from completing your desires,” Eliesmore insisted.
“No. I think not.” He raised a hand, and his eyes changed, turning a dark ruby red. On one finger Eliesmore saw a ruby ring, glowing in the pure light. “You are the missing jewel, the missing piece I have sought my entire life. The Green Stone. Now that you are here my family is complete, you will grant us access to paradise. My son.”
“I am not your family; I am not your son. You and your abomination shall be eternally damned,” Eliesmore snarled.
The male held open his hand and pointed a finger. “Read the book.”
“No,” Eliesmore held the Jeweled Sword in front of his body with both hands. “I did not come to listen to your deceptive words; I did not come to be a pawn, a side effect of your evil ways. I came to rise above and destroy you. What you have done to the Western World, the South World, and, perhaps, even the Eastern World, is not forgotten nor forgiven. I have come to seek redemption for the lives you have wronged, for the mortals you have slain, for the blood you have shed, and the power you have stolen. I have come to make things right, to bring the bal
ance, to wipe your kind from the face of the Four Worlds. You no longer have authority over the Four Worlds. I seal your doom, here and now. You will not go to paradise. You will rot in the filth of your evil deeds and your soul will burn for an eternity.” A ripple of passion burst through his body at the urgency of his words. As he finished his speech, a green flame sparked, burst, and engulfed the Jeweled Sword. He made a move to run forward yet the male held up a hand while his lips curled upward as if Eliesmore were a small child throwing a tantrum. Despite himself, Eliesmore froze.
“You are passionate about what you believe in,” the male’s voice remained calm and unwavering as if Eliesmore had merely noted the decor of the chamber. “Good. If you desire to succeed, you need passion. I have learned patience in my lifetime, a trait you should seek to acquire. You will need it in the months to follow. You seek my demise, yet you don’t know what I am.”
Eliesmore gritted his teeth, furious the male was intent on having a dialogue versus fighting to the death. “You are a Changer. The Dark One. The Ruler. Sarhorr. You go by many names, perhaps by many faces…” The male raised a hand and Eliesmore trailed off, clenching his sword hilt and fuming.
“I cannot be destroyed. Perhaps you think I lie to you,” this time he smirked openly before placating his expression. “You were able to sneak into Castle Range and kill my brother. The weakest link. He had no interaction with mortals, he was unprepared to face you, and my sister left him to his doom. Purposefully. We had to ensure you would be ready for the next step; you would come here willingly, thinking it would be simple to kill me, to destroy my physical form and to destroy my spiritual form. We wanted you to assume you could stride into my home, my kingdom here in the Four Worlds, a pitiful, unguarded kingdom. You assumed you could walk in here and slide the Jeweled Sword through my body. My body is made out of flesh and spirit, the flesh may die, but the energy of my spirit never dies. It changes form, hence, why the mortals call us Changers. Tell me, what would you do to destroy energy? Will you use the power of the Green Stone? A power you don’t even know how to use? Power is wasted on you.”
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 122