The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  Wekin took a breath, allowing Yamier to chime in. “I don’t know Wekin. I don’t know.”

  “We need to cheer everyone up, or we won’t have any army at all. These are dark days, mark my words. What should we do?” Wekin continued, shaking his head as he eyed the dejected army. Shoulders slumped, and heads held down as they walked.

  “I’d suggest leaving it up to Idrithar and Indonesia. After all the Mermis follow Indonesia, and the army follows Idrithar.”

  Wekin frowned. “You can’t be serious? We have our followers. He waved his hands. “Skip, Bruthen, Wyndler and Trecon. I dare say Sir Regante and Mattio follow Idrithar, but Visra and Captain Elidar…”

  “It’s not the same,” Yamier cut him off. “We have to do something grand to make them take note.”

  “We are grand we have the weapons of the Five Warriors, we are the best warriors in the South World I wager. Did you see the woísts flee before us? You saw, you were there!”

  “I also saw what the Dark Figure did to Eliesmore. No one can forget that. How are we supposed to make others forget that? It was monstrous and then she grabbed Optimistic and leaped through the portal. That moment is burned into my vision. Wekin, what should we do to make them forget?”

  Wekin pursed his lips and made a fist. “We have to do something!”

  “But what is bigger than what just happened? What is bigger than the weapons of The Five Warriors and the Phutal?” Yamier voice grew louder as he waved his arms, his face growing red.

  “Humm...if we had the Clyear of Power combined with the might and strength of this army we could pull off a feat and sink Castle Range into the ground.”

  “Impossible. No one knows where the Clyears are...mostly in tales of old they were found by visiting a wyvern or dranagin.”

  “We have none of those but dranagins…”

  “Dranagins . . . remember how Idrithar said he made a deal with one?”

  “Dranagins. Now that’s an idea . . . aren’t there two of them?”

  “Yes, the smaller one which we saw and the bigger one…”

  “Dranagins are for dranagins.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Something big.”

  “Something that will make people forget what they saw.”

  “To give them a new story to talk about.”

  “I’ve got it! We should steal the dranagins.”

  “Not one but both of them especially the big one.”

  “Particularly the big one!”

  “Wekin…”

  “Yamier…”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Aye. Let’s go get the dranagins!”

  Wekin held a finger to his lips as Yamier joined him. “We need to talk to the Xctas because we need a ride.”

  80

  Visra

  Visra shook out a handful of teeth and dropped them onto one of the smoking pyres. She felt eyes on her back, and she shrugged as she met Captain Elidar’s wistful gaze. “I tried to tell them,” he wagged his head, his dark eyes falling to the ground. “She is all powerful. They wouldn’t listen.”

  Visra gave a bitter laugh in response. “They never do but you swore to fight with me. This battle is over, but we are killers, we go to the next one.”

  Captain Elidar put a hand on his sword hilt, raising his eyebrows. He spoke tentatively. “Castle Range...I have never been there, yet I have heard…”

  “Rumors?” Visra interrupted with a snicker. She paused as memories danced into her mind, paving the way for solemn words. “I saw death there and the birth of the Green Light.” She smacked her lips and stuck her tongue back to lick the bare nubs where her teeth used to be. They usually grew back after a battle. She’d lost so many over the months she and Captain Elidar fought together, it seemed natural.

  “Do you believe in him? The One they call Eliesmore?” Captain Elidar went on his tone void of traces of emotion.

  Visra snapped her head back to glare at him as she spread her wings, wiping droplets of blood off her chin. “Do you doubt him?”

  He glanced away, off into the smoke where a vague mist hung in the air, hiding the city of Sidell from view. “It is hard to say... he is not what I expected.”

  “You never told me you saw him at his weakest, in the Torsilo Quarts,” Visra muttered, bending over to stretch her back, intent on loosening up her body for the next battle.

  “It was never important,” Captain Elidar shrugged. “I did what I knew was right at the time and now I am out here, atoning for my sins.”

  Visra swung her arms back and forth, “How did you know it was him? Who told you?”

  Captain Elidar visibility stiffened, the whites of his eyes showing at Visra’s questioning gaze. “I just knew…there was a female who came to me…in a dream perhaps…and she told me what to do.”

  “She?” Visra froze, her hands coming down to rest on her sides. “What did she look like?”

  He put a hand to his head, pinching his brow between two fingers. “I can’t remember. There was an aura of green and silver. She was beautiful and yet something deadly surrounded her. I cannot recall more.”

  Visra frowned, her lips drawing downward. “Curious.” She spun on her heel, facing away from Captain Elidar. The riddles and mysteries of knowledge were not something she was called upon to question, yet the fact that Captain Elidar had been ordered to set Eliesmore free bothered her. There was something missing in the line of events, something that did not add up, something she’d learned in the past that terrified her. At least, hints of it terrified her, and she chose to forget. “Beware the Green People, they are up to something,” she whispered to herself.

  “What’s that?” Captain Elidar asked, a vague shadow of fear covering his face.

  Visra shivered. “Nothing, let’s march. It is still a time to kill.”

  81

  Idrithar

  At sunrise, the Mermis gathered those who remained. They stood inside the city walls while Idrithar strode to the fountain, holding up the blade of Alaireia, Keeper of the Clyear. He could not forget the look on the faces of the White Steeds. He knew he had to do what he could to make them march on to yet another battle, even though it might result in slather.

  “Hear ye. Hear ye,” Idrithar began, resting the point of the sword on the ground, aware of the way the gold light in the middle gleamed, ready to do his bidding. “I know what you have seen with your own eyes, and so it seems, once again, the Black Steeds won a victory here. But I stand before you and say it is not so. The Black Steeds have not won here. Look around. What do you see? There are no Black Steeds here. You saw the ground swallow them whole. You saw them flee from the wrath of the White Steeds. You also saw a setback, but what are wars but not simply battles? We fought hard today, and we won, we go on to fight another day, and I need you to stand firm in your unwavering commitment to the White Steeds. If doubt fills your heart, look up at the Green Light and see how it shines, look toward the west and realize the One, finder of the Jeweled Sword, conqueror of evil, is still fighting for you because of what happened here. Victory is not what we assume, but if we give up, if we stop fighting now, defeat will be a surety. You did not come all this way to join the White Steeds because you are faint of heart. You have hope, and even the smallest sliver of hope will help you fight. Remember those you have lost, our friends, our comrades, don’t let their sacrifice be in vain.

  “In honor of what took place, I hereby rename the city Ellsmore. We will rebuild, those who desire to march to Castle Range, to finish what we started, come with me.” His blood pumped through his veins as he lifted his sword high into the air, letting the hypnotizing light of the sword flare up. “Those of you who want to stay, to heal, recover and rebuild, make this place worthy of the White Steeds. Make this place such that none who come here ever forget. If you need hope, look at the light of the sword, let courage find it’s way into your heart, and march, march forth with me to battle and glory and victory fo
r the White Steeds.”

  Slowly, a chant weaved its way through the crowd as eyes gazed at the golden light and hearts were restored. Voices lifted, and booted feet stamped as the flag of the White Steeds was raised high. White Steeds. White Steeds. White Steed.

  Idrithar held the sword high, knowing his moment had come.

  82

  Wekin

  A week later, Yamier and Wekin landed in the ravine. “We are going through the mountain of fire,” Wekin told the Xctas. “It’s a three-day journey but make sure you are ready to follow us when we come out the other side.”

  “Keep your distance,” Yamier laughed, running his fingers through his hair.

  The Xctas watched the two with beady eyes, and Wekin couldn’t help but assume the fowl were suspicious of him. He shouldered his pack of mocholeach and nodded at Yamier, the thrill of adventure buzzing through his fingers. He lived for the daring, the wild rush that came with accomplishing great feats. Excitement tingled as his skin brushed the sword of Starman the Trazame.

  “Come on,” Yamier encouraged. They moved down the ravine, climbing among the rocks into the gorge.

  Wekin wiggled through the opening, sniffing the air. “Something is burning,” he whispered to Yamier.

  “Aye, I smell it too. Do you remember the way?” Yamier crept beside Wekin, his voice hushed to a whisper.

  “In the back here,” Wekin pointed, moving toward a gray, misshapen boulder.

  They circled the rock, and the silver stalagmites shuddered as they strode into the mountain of fire. A golden hue hung in the air quickly blotted out by the darkness of the caves. Yamier tripped, sending dranagin scales rolling down the mountain side. “We could be rich,” Yamier puffed, “if we collected these.”

  Wekin bent, scooping up a handful. “Let’s take some for later.”

  They walked down the path for a while they saw the faint glow of fire while the scent of burnt flesh filtered through the air. “Down there,” Wekin whispered.

  “I remember it being steep, be careful,” Yamier answered as Wekin threw himself down on the path.

  Hand over hand they climbed down to the bottom of the mountain, grunting with the effort of sliding into the depths. It was well after midnight when they dropped to the bottom of the mountain. There, stretched in front of them were the dranagins, their yellow eyes half-open, waiting for the intruders their ears had heard.

  Wekin took a deep breath when he saw the dranagins. Their scaly bodies lounged on the ground, hiding the length of their mass in shadows of darkness the light of the fire did not reach. Long, lizard-like bodies were covered with gold and silver scales, and they lifted their long necks as the two Crons entered their domain. Smoke oozed from their long snouts while a strong odor of flesh permeated the air. Beyond the firelight, Wekin saw jewels of all sizes, piled up like fallen rubble and a twinge of lust bit his heart. A deep longing, stronger than the lust for bacon sank into him, giving him a boldness. Wekin ignored the long, sharp claws on their huge feet as he looked from one to the other.

  “Alright dranagins, we’ve work to do, up and at it, both of you!”

  “Who do you think you are to order us around,” asked the smaller dranagin, his voice gave off a bored tone.

  “I don’t think I am anyone to order you around, but my friend, Idrithar, remember him? He said he struck a bargain with you and I’m hoping to do the same.”

  “We don’t deal with mortals,” the bigger dranagin spoke, his booming voice made the mountainside quiver as a puff of smoke flashed through the air.

  Wekin stepped back although a grin split his face at the danger.

  “Leave us alone, we need to sleep,” the smaller dranagin complained.

  “What kind of deal did you strike with Idrithar the Wise?” Yamier prompted the smaller dranagin. “You came to our aid, and the Green Stone was dissolved.”

  “There is nothing you can say or do that will make us leave our mountain of fire,” the larger dranagin thundered.

  Wekin grabbed Yamier’s shoulder to steady himself as the ground shook. Rubble poured down around them while the jewels shivered in the darkness. Yamier pulled Wekin away, his eyes wide. “Perhaps we should collect treasure and get out of here,” he whispered. “The dranagins seem none too friendly, and they are monstrous.”

  Wekin felt the change in his eyes as he turned in Yamier’s direction. “We can’t give up now. We’ve only just begun.”

  A fireball exploded out of the smaller dranagin’s mouth, an intense heat radiating toward the hapless Crons. “Watch out!” Wekin grabbed Yamier and threw him to the ground, the tips of their hair burning as the fireball rolled over them.

  Wekin rolled over, smearing his clothes in dirt as he patted out the sparks. A haze of black smoke hung over them as the larger dranagin laughed, a deep-throated bellow that shook the mountain of fire once again. Wekin lay, face down, breathing heavily before he leaped up, his eyes flashing.

  “Enough of this. We are warriors of the White Steeds, come to ask you to help us in our dire moment of need. We have something you want, something you need. If you burn us first, you won’t get it.”

  “We have everything we need here,” the smaller dranagin’s tongue came out. It turned tail as it moved toward the burning remains of some creature and scooped it up in its powerful jaws.

  The putrid tang of flesh filled the air as the dranagin bit down while tears of disgust came to Wekin’s eyes. He pulled out his sword and faced the giant dranagin, staring into the lidless yellow eyes. The beast blinked, and Wekin saw different colors, gold, a hint of emerald, a taste of ruby and shining amethyst. As he looked into the eyes of the beast, he saw the creature’s desires, almost as if his soul entered the body of the dranagin and all was laid bare.

  “You want freedom,” he whispered. “The people groups have been bothering you this year, more so than others. The Rakhai entered your realm and frightened away your prey. Jewels are beautiful, yet if there were something else that would ensure you were never bothered again, and always cared for, would you harken to it? If you could leave this mountain and live in the light, would you go?”

  “This one has pretty words,” the smaller dranagin hissed. “Don’t listen to it. It said it’s a warrior, when I flew out, I went to battle and spears were hurled at me. It was all I could do to escape. Don’t listen to pretty words.”

  “There is a great land,” Wekin went on. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the land of Daygone, where the Changers used to rule until the One banished them from the Four Worlds.”

  “Changers cannot die,” the smaller dranagin spoke up in disdain while the larger one opened both eyes and watched Wekin.

  “Ever since the One set the Green Light in the sky, all is changing. If you do not leave, he will come and out root you from your land and force you into battle. This is the only way to escape. You must flee before he comes for you and takes your mountain and your treasure.” The words felt lovely on Wekin’s tongue, and he spoke them, weaving a hypnotic blanket of truth and lies, while the words covered the minds of the dranagins in a fog of longing.

  “You have been here for too long, you’ve forgotten what it is like to walk the face of the South World, where the red grasses grow, and the animals do not start and flee from your presence. Instead of a mountain, you shall have a country, and all the food and wealth you desire. Oceantic will be at your feet while you can fish in the Jaded Sea and conqueror sea monsters. All we ask is that you leave these mountains and rule that land. We saw with our own eyes. The Therian returned, and the Tribe of Minas fought with them, the Crons and Tiders of the north and south walk together with swords raised high. You do not want to be here when they come for you and take your mountain.”

  “You cannot take our mountain from us,” the smaller dranagin protested. “We are stronger than any force that could enter these mountains.”

  “There’s only one way to see,” the larger dranagin came to its feet, shaking the mountain with such force,
Wekin and Yamier almost lost their balance. The long body of the beast disappeared into darkness while its spread its wings reared back its head and bellowed.

  The sound coursed through Wekin’s body, and everything within him screamed in terror, shouting for him to run as fast as he could. But it was already too late. The dranagin let loose a rain of fire.

  Wekin held up the sword as the flames burned bright and Yamier crouched behind him. Heat surged around them, scorching the mountain side. When the dranagin pulled back, Yamier and Wekin stood, unhurt while the sword of Starman the Trazame burned bright in Wekin’s hand. Yamier let an arrow fly, shrieking past the ears of the dranagins. “Don’t you see?” he walked in front of Wekin, his voice deadly. “You can fight, you can fly, you can attempt to burn us, but we are invincible. We carry the weapons of the Heroes of Old, and we always get our way. We will not force you to fight our battles with us, but we do ask you to keep the land of Daygone, and keep all living things from entering there ever again. They will answer to you.”

  Wekin moved shoulder to shoulder with Yamier. “Would you like to taste my blade?”

  After some conversation, the dranagins agreed to Yamier and Wekin’s wild plan, mainly out of fear of the weapons than anything else. Something snapped within Wekin after the beasts agreed to fly to Daygone. They lifted off in a vertical flight, the sheer momentum of flight. Wekin squeezed the harness made of rope, his heart in his throat as the great wings of the dranagin spread wide, thrusting them through the passageways of the mountain of fire. Wekin blinked hard, unable to stop the tears streaming from his eyes at the intensity of flight while cold wind buzzed around his ears. Looking down he saw Yamier below him, straddling the smaller dranagin which was equally furious with being out-rooted from their home under the mountains.