The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  A Cron jogged up to them and thrust a blanket toward Optimistic, eyes bulging as he gaped at the bloody horror. Optimistic dropped to his knees and wrapped the blanket around Visra.

  “How long have you been out here?” Eliesmore found his tongue.

  “Too long,” Visra shivered. “After Shimla. After the Truth Tellers. After the parting. I come here. I wanted to kill. I wanted to fight. But we should run…”

  “Visra?” Optimistic waved away the onlookers. “Give her space. She needs a moment, she’s not in her right mind.”

  Visra gave a harsh laugh. “This is the first time I’ve been in my right mind.” She glared at the Crons in turn, her eyes shining with an odd halo as she met Eliesmore’s eyes. Her lips curled. “Run.”

  Optimistic lifted her in his arms, an apologetic look on his face. “Eliesmore, come with me. Let’s clean her up.” He twisted his head around. “Where’s Idrithar?”

  Eliesmore surveyed the ship, it listed in the water, the deck covered with features and blood, while particles of the sea monster remained. Wekin coughed, limping forward. His eyes grew wide as he stared at Eliesmore, Optimistic, and a bloody Visra. Yamier stood with Skip, their bows pointing downwards. Eliesmore felt their horror as they stared in befuddlement. They were waiting for someone to give them orders. They weren’t used to taking initiative. They’d been trained to follow, trained to obey, trained to wait for orders.

  Idrithar strode across the deck, his eyes like thunder as his eyes swept over destruction. “Bring the buckets. We need to scrub the deck clean.”

  Instantly a quiet chatter swept across the ship, and Idrithar walked up to Eliesmore, Optimistic, and Visra. His eyes flashed.

  “Idrithar,” Optimistic breathed with relief.

  “Take her below decks,” Idrithar’s tone dripped with warmth and assurance. “Her presence is terrifying. We can’t have the army frightened right before we reach land.”

  Optimistic nodded, biting his lip as he moved toward the hold. Eliesmore followed him.

  Sunset. Eliesmore sat in the hold with Optimistic. Visra had been scrubbed and dressed. Optimistic ripped holes in a shirt to allow her to use her wings. After her bath, she took a long draught of water and promptly went to sleep. Eliesmore sat a table across from Optimistic, unable to eat, waiting for her to wake up.

  “Idrains don’t sleep…” he trailed off.

  “Nay,” Optimistic shook his head, rocking back and forth in the chair. “I hate to think of what she’s been through. What is she doing out here? I thought the Iaen returned to Shimla.”

  Eliesmore thought of them. Visra with her devilish aura. Glashar with her golden hair. Ellagine. His mind shied away from thoughts of her. He could not face the truth. Not yet. “That’s what they told Idrithar and the Mermis. What if they didn’t return?”

  Optimistic’s brow creased. “You say that as if you believe they have ulterior motives.”

  Eliesmore pursed his lips, drumming his fingers on the table. “I don’t know what to think. Visra went to face the darkness on her own. Of course she was frightened, of course it turned out badly. She should have waited for us, the army. We are stronger as a whole.”

  Even as Eliesmore trailed off, he noted the odd look on Optimistic’s face. Optimistic narrowed his eyes, noting the irony of Eliesmore’s words. “I know. Eliesmore. Are you ready to talk about what happened in Daygone?”

  Eliesmore stiffened, leaning forward, keeping his voice low. “Optimistic, you are my closest friend, and I rarely keep anything from you. This time, it’s for your own good. Some things are too dark to share.”

  Optimistic cocked his head. “I won’t push you, but you know holding this thing inside becomes a festering poison. You need to find a way to release the burden you carry. However you choose. It may not be through talking. I find song heals my wounds, but Eliesmore, you need to find a way to let go of the darkness. I’ve felt what haunts you. You can’t carry it for the rest of your life.”

  Eliesmore nodded, his head acknowledging that Optimistic was right while a sudden anger swept through him. He took a deep breath. “I know.”

  70

  Arldrine

  Arldrine tucked her hair behind an ear and pulled the quiver of blue tipped arrows over her shoulder. “What are we preparing for?” she directed the question toward Róta.

  “They are coming,” Róta lifted a spear and took aim, one hand outstretched to hold her balance as she practiced, lunging forward.

  “Who are?” Arldrine ran her fingers across her bow string, testing for any signs of weakness.

  “The Therian,” Róta let go of the spear, and it sang as it zinged through the air.

  “Why now?” Arldrine lifted her eyebrows in concern. “It’s been weeks since…since the sacrifice.” She shifted from foot to foot in discomfort.

  Her time with the tribe after Goldwind’s sacrifice had been difficult. She was furious with them for turning her friend over to the Therian. Fear gripped her heart each time she considered Goldwind in the hands of those ferocious beasts. Even if she had been able the fight, the tribe warned her the Therian had many clans in the mountains, and because of their unique abilities, they saw and heard all. The tribe was concerned their sacrifice had been lacking, yet they were reluctant to turn over one of their own. Since Arldrine was rejected, they looked at her with a mix of curiosity and scorn. In a sense, she felt like their prisoner and even though she could run off, the risk was too high. She felt trapped with no significant alternatives. If she ran, she would likely be caught again by the tribe or the Therian, since these were their mountains and they knew them best. As hard as it was to admit, the mountains differed greatly from the peaceful forests of Truemonix with its hidden paths. She would soon find herself lost in the Cascade Mountains, and a guide to aid her escape was not forthcoming. For a while, she’d considered asking Róta and the other Ezinck who had taken her to the Therian, Ayesha. The two had been kindest to her, Róta more so than Ayesha, yet even the risk for them was too great. The female Tider, Dyinka, who seemed to be their leader, told stories of those who interfered with the Therian and were torn from limb to limb, their eyes pecked out and their body parts hung, to remind the tribe they were subject to the ruthless punishments of the Therian. Therefore, they obeyed the Therian, least the hammer of anger be brought down against their entire tribe.

  Róta strode across the rocks to retrieve her spear before ducking back into the warm comfort of the tent. It was a three-sided tent with one side open to the encampment. “The Therian wait until we are comfortable, until we think they will not strike, and then they move in, and taunt us with terror. That is why they come now, and we must fight.”

  “I am not afraid to fight,” Arldrine told Róta. “I have seen battle with age-old creatures from the underground. This tribe can stand against the Therian.”

  Róta stood still. “You know not what you speak of. Come.”

  A warning howl sounded, echoing off the peaks that rose above them as they left the warmth of tents and caves.

  Dyinka appeared, her golden boots glinting in the sunlight as she heaved up a spear. She waved for others to follow her as they weaved their way through the mountainside.

  Arldrine followed in the rear with Róta and Ayesha. “Where are we going?” she whispered as the throng of Ezincks and Tiders surrounded her. They moved quickly yet stealthily, young and old, armed with knives, bows, and spears.

  “We meet in the arena where they give us the list of grievances. We have a chance to answer to them before they deal out the punishment they see fit.”

  Arldrine frowned, breaking into a jog as the pace quickened. They ran uphill, howls resounding above them, and when she looked up into the cold blue sky, she saw great beasts wheeling above them. Xctas. Likely those that belonged to the clans of the Therian, there to ensure the tribe did as they were told.

  They moved up the mountainside to the place called the arena. Arldrine recognized it as the place where Rót
a and Ayesha had taken her for the exchange. She shuddered as they stood on a boulder, looking down into the narrow valley. A group of Tiders stood in the middle, they looked alike with bare chests, gray and white fur hanging off one of their broad shoulders. They all had dark hair. Some wore it in long braids, others shorter. Some of them had beards while others had clean-shaven faces, displaying their square jaws, grim and set. Two of them paced with impatience, the undercurrent of bloodthirsty growls emitting from their muscular bodies.

  Arldrine stepped back at the sight of them, watching gray wolves crouching in the slopes above the Tiders. Further back she saw black bulls standing on their hind legs, giving them a height of six feet, with horns stretching out sideways on their heads. The sharp cry of Xctas came from the sky, and a group of them wheeled, one after the other, momentarily blocking out light from the sky. Arldrine took a deep breath, calculating their numbers. The tribe of female Ezincks and Tiders was vast, yet the Therian were twice their size, and twice as fearsome. Arldrine chewed her lower lip, she’d fought the Rakhai and the woísts of the Holesmoles, but she did not understand why fear stilled her heart.

  As the assumed leader of the Therian threw back his head and roared, she realized exactly what it was. She’d lost confidence in herself because she placed her identify in finding her people, and they would not accept her for who she was. She’d left the comfort of the Green Company and fled into the unknown despite warnings. She searched for something to anchor her motivation to, and yet there was nothing. Surrounded by her people, it seemed she fought alone for something meaningless and purposeless.

  “Shawdi of the House of Therian calls on Dyinka of the Tribe of Minas to answer for crimes.”

  Dyinka moved down the mountainside into the arena. A group of five following her while the others remained in the shadows, waiting for the battle cry and the signal to attack.

  “What crimes? We have kept our end of the deal and have presented a sacrifice as required,” Dyinka’s voice rang out loud and strong as if she were not intimidated by the display of force by the Therian.

  “Your sacrifice was lacking, and due to your lack of finding an acceptable substitute, we are here to list out the obligations you must carry out.”

  “We found an acceptable sacrifice,” Dyinka interrupted, “You failed to accept it.”

  A second Tider stepped forward, “If I may, where is the unacceptable sacrifice?”

  Arldrine leaped up, her heart in her throat as she stared down at the Therian. Unable to stop herself she moved forward.

  “What are you doing?” Róta whispered.

  Arldrine waved her away and started down the mountain path toward the center of the area, hardly daring to believe what her eyes showed her. What was Zhane doing in the mountains, and why was he standing with the Therian, ready to slather the Tribe of Minas? She tripped down the mountain, barely hearing the conversation between Dyinka and Shawdi.

  “Zhane,” she whispered as she stepped in line with Dyinka and the Ezincks. She knew he did not hear her, but his eyes on fell on hers and his expression lit up. He looked tired, his face drawn, and she saw worry behind his dark eyes. He mouthed her name, relief resting on him like a burden taken from a weary traveler.

  He held up a hand, turning to address Shawdi. “If I accept the sacrifice now, and the Tribe of Minas preform an act, will all be forgiven?”

  “The balance will be even,” Shawdi held up a finger. “Let the sacrifice step forward.”

  Arldrine wanted to stay something rude, insulted by the frank and indent terms they used to describe her, yet her joy and relief to see Zhane overcame her impulse. She moved across the barrier between the Therian and the Tribe of Minas, and before she could stop him, he swept her into his arms, pressing her tightly against his body as if he would never let go. She fastened her arms around his waist, hanging on as relief coursed through her. Around her voices shouted yet it seemed to be in the distance as he kissed her head, his lips falling near her eyes as he whispered, “Arldrine, I am thankful to find you unharmed. We play a risky game now, the life of all will depend on what happens next.”

  “Zhane…” she tried to respond, but he held her closer, almost taking her breath away.

  She closed her eyes, sinking her face into the furs he wore, inhaling the rich piney smell of the mountains. For one moment is seemed as if she took flight above the white mountains peaks and soared into a lush green forest where a crystal-clear waterfall poured down into paradise, and the woes of the world were forgotten.

  “Take my hand,” he whispered, letting go of her.

  She nodded. He grasped her hand firmly in his and lifted it high into the air as if they had won a great victory. Where their hands met a furl of white light burst out and twirled in a riot across the skies, morphing and shifting as white motes drifted around them, colliding and bursting until they turned into snow, falling on the heads of all that observed.

  “I am Zhane the Warrior of the House of Therian and this is Arldrine the Ezinck of Truemonix. I carry the sword of Crinte the Wise and she carries the bow and arrows of Legone the Swift. We bring you hope. We will help you regain Stronghold because the reign of the Black Steeds is failing. This shall be our act of goodwill if you will have us.”

  As Zhane’s words rang out across the craggy mountain peak, Arldrine gazed at him in admiration and saw, for the first time his strength. Instead of following the lead of Idrithar he had taken it upon himself to strike out on his own and stand tall. She saw the strength he had denied himself. Arldrine watched as the snow fell and one by one she saw a change come over the Therian and the Tribe of Minas as if someone had taken their hardened hearts and given them something pure to hold on to. She saw the hope gently sway their souls and realized she was an example of what she’d hoped to accomplish, something she could not do without Zhane because they were two halves of a whole. They belonged together, and it was the coming together that allowed them to change the hearts and minds of the ruthless, wild beasts of the mountains and the tribe of females who thought they did not need the assistance of males, except for procreating.

  Arldrine stood tall, raised her chin and squeezed Zhane’s hand. When she did, she saw their future flicker into view, and she knew, despite the good and bad that would overcome them, as long as they stood together, they would be powerful.

  A roar let loose, one of awe and wonder as the Therian and the Tribe of Minas lifted their eyes. As she stood in the arena with Zhane, hearing the approval of the display of power, she realized her past mindset had been wrong. Her original quest had been to find mankind, the people of the mountains and persuade them to the fight with the One. Yet as their voices chorused around her, she recognized the fight, the battle would not be theirs unless they knew who they were. The Therian and the Tribe of Minas had to know who they were, and what they were fighting for before they could join an epic cause. They had to find their identity in life first.

  71

  Eliesmore

  He walked the ashen ground, smoke drifting around him as he lifted the Jeweled Sword. The light was gone, there was nothing to reflect the sparkles of the gems. All the same, he lifted the weapon and spun to face her. She roared, a monster with curved fingers. She tore across the field, snatching bolts of evil out of the air and flinging them at him. He parried and thrust, driving toward her until his arms burned from lifting the sword and his legs shook with exhaustion. Green and gold light poured into the sword and when he lifted it for the final blow she swung, a ball and chain ripping out of the air and slamming into the Jeweled Sword. It shattered, jewels flying through the air, falling at her feet in worship. He gazed in horror as she towered over him, reaching down a hand encased in armor, clasping it around his neck. He gasped for breath as she lifted him, kicking and wiggling in vain. You are not the One. You have lost. Failure is your reward. She squeezed until the breath left his body, darkness clouded his vision and…

  Eliesmore woke up panting, clawing at his neck, attempt
ing to shake away the nightmare. He swung his legs out over the bunk and leaned forward, taking deep breaths to soothe his panic. His shirt was wet with sweat as he stood, shrugged on his tunic and grabbed his sword. He tip-toed through the bunks, letting himself out the cabin door and weaving his way to the stairs that led up to the deck.

  The morning breeze was a welcome relief from the stink of the hold. Eliesmore doubted so many Crons, Tiders and animals ever should have been crammed into one space for such a long period. The stars were gone as Eliesmore walked the deck, a few Crons stood about, keeping watch. Eliesmore noted Skip, Idrithar, and a dark-headed Cron called Mattio on the quarterdeck of the ship; their faces pointed west. High above him in the crow’s nest, a Mermi, and an Xctas kept watch, ready to relay communications from ship to ship.

  Eliesmore walked toward the foremast, taking the small flight of stairs two at a time. A fog covered the western skies as he watched and a dark mass appeared in the distance. Idrithar looked over as Eliesmore joined them. “The shores of Sanga Sang lie before us. As discussed, you will go to shore with the horses and continue up the coast toward Sidell. I will take the two ships with foot soldiers and meet you on the coast of Sidell. It will give us a chance to divert our enemy. They can’t be in two places to attack us.”

  Eliesmore nodded in understanding. “What do the scouts say?”

  Idrithar shrugged. “They see nothing. Has Visra awakened yet? It is likely she has more to share with us.”

  Eliesmore frowned. Visra had been sleeping for days. Optimistic went to visit her daily, waiting for the moment she’d open her eyes, and her visions would be sharp with clarity. “Not yet.”

  Skip spun toward him, her long braid flying over her shoulder. She looked older, decked out in clean clothes. Eliesmore still glimpsed a bit of spitfire in her eyes. “Have you formed your squad yet? Are Yamier and Wekin part of it?” she raised her eyebrows, her face serious.