The Five Warriors (The Four Worlds Series Book 1)

by Ford, Angela J.

  She reached out a hand to caress his serious face and laughed. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Tell me, would I know if I saw one?”

  “You are serious.” She stood, letting the moonlight filter through her long hair. “Changers are old beings from the beginning of time, the last scraps of the creator’s spark which formed this World. You would be unlikely to meet one, for they are above us, too distinguished to flirt with the people groups and too haughty to lower themselves to live with the immortals.” Her long fingers rested on the balcony, gripping it tightly as she continued. “There is no place for them in this world. They are a mistake. If you ever met one it would be unexplainable. They have two forms that make them indestructible. One is physical and one is spirit. We Green People call ourselves immortal because we never die, but we can be killed. Changers are truly immortal. If their physical form is killed their spiritual form remains, and who can kill a spirit?”

  “Would you know if you met a Changer?” he pressed. “Are they dangerous?”

  She laughed lightly again, her voice rippling gently through the air like the tinkling of silver bills on a cold, crisp night. “Dangerous? There are no creatures in the World more powerful or dangerous.”

  “What if I met a Changer. What should I do?”

  She turned back to him, bending to take his face in her hands. Her intense gaze met his questioning eyes. “Run as fast as you can and never stop.”

  He paused, searching her eyes for more. “If need be, is there a way to stop a Changer?”

  She looked at him, calculating. “There might be. What are you thinking, my love? What fears have sparked these questions?”

  He averted his gaze from hers lest she see into his mind by looking into his eyes. He pulled her warm body into his lap, nestling his face against the crock of her neck as he lightened his tone. “Just curiosity, nothing else.”

  But his curiosity deepened as he watched Sarhorr and he wondered if he were immune to the spell of blindness cast upon the Green People. Indeed it was not long after that Sarhorr had pulled him aside, backing him into a dark corner. “You do not trust me,” he had whispered, his mouth close to Legone’s ear, his voice whining, hurt with an undercurrent of spite.

  “I do not trust everyone I meet,” Legone had retorted.

  Sarhorr backed away, his voice menacing as he leaned in again, like a snake playing with its prey before devouring it. “You are only a fly on my back, an oddity in the waves of fate. Do not try to stop me. It will be your end, and the end of your beloved Green People. I can sense when you are near and if time passes and I find you on my trail, I will destroy you.”

  A chill passed through Legone as if the doors of death had opened and touched him gently. He felt the flow of his breathing halt as a malicious grin covered Sarhorr’s face. He moved away, leaving Legone gasping in the shadows. It was only a few months later that Legone had taken Paleidir’s advice and run as fast as he could. Now he wondered if he should have told Crinte the truth. Crinte simply thought Sarhorr the Ruler was a power hungry immortal; a Changer required a completely different mindset. A new set of rules applied but maybe it was best he did not know, in case they failed altogether.

  A signal disturbed his thought process and he lifted his head. The fog of evil whispers had left him and a jeweled voice was calling, beckoning him. His heart leaped as he heard it, an unfamiliar voice but as it grew louder he realized one he had desperately wanted to hear his whole life. No longer were his movements cautious and fragmented, he began to run, speed lighting his feet and he sped like a blur through the tunnels.

  Alaireia held her ground as the Gim transformed. The heat from the pitchfork towering above her seared her face. She had tied her hair back yet the tips felt crisp as they caught the ends of the flame. Every particle of her body begged her to run, screamed at her to save herself. Only her mind remained in her control, reminding her of the task at hand. In one hand she held her sword in front, shielding her body from the Gim’s initial attack. The other hand held the Clyear as she whispered gently to it, telling it her desire. Bony white fingers appeared on the pitchfork despite the flames that licked at it. A sightless tall figure stood over four feet above her, its face hidden beneath a hooded cloak so black it blended into the darkness. It drew a long, wide sword and held it towards her, first moving its pitchfork towards her menacingly, then swinging its blade with a sure and steady hand. Alaireia lifted her sword to meet it and a resounding gong rang out. She ducked the next blow, swing her sword upward, slamming it into the pitchfork. Sparks burned her skin and flames leaped at her at the Gim lifted its sword to take off her head. Sensing her moment she leaped up and blew into the Gim’s face. Its sword came down heavy. Alaireia threw herself backwards and the Gim dropped its sword, using both hands to defend itself against the searching power she had thrown at it. A second later the pitchfork crashed down as well. Alaireia rolled away from it, pulled herself upwards and launched herself at the Gim. She struck it again and again with her sword, accomplishing nothing as the outer shell of its temporary body was too thick. Relentlessly she drove forward until a small object rolled out of the Gim’s cloak. Alaireia dove with the Gim on top of her, reaching for it. The moment her fingers touched it she felt a sickly quiver above her. With a scream the Gim grew limp and disappeared. Alaireia stood up, holding the round object. It felt heavy in her hands but there was something else. Death was captured inside of it and an odd feeling overcame her. She wanted to put it down and walk away; that kind of dark power was not meant for her. Shakily she sheathed her sword and tucked the Clyear away. Again she held the object at length, attempting to persuade herself to hold into it.

  Alaireia. She froze. Alaireia, it called again, louder. It was a voice she almost recognized. The sound of it filled her with hope, refreshed her spirit despite the evil object she held in her hand. Alaireia! Come! It was calling, beckoning. She could almost see two outstretched hands pulling her in, urging her to quicken her pace. She was needed. She was desired. Forgetting her dilemma, Alaireia took off down the lonely road towards the voice.

  Marklus plodded down the sloping halls with weary feet. He could hear it, the tongues that belonged to the outside land. His desire for natural light increased with each step. He swore if he ever stepped out of the dark tunnel he would never enter again. Life without the freedom to live and die on the land he loved was no life at all. He understood that now, even though he wanted to stop, to rest. He missed the banter of his companions. Just the thought of talking to anyone else besides himself and the Zikes would be comforting. Impatiently he pushed curls off his forehead, reminding himself of how close he was. He hoped he was not alone. Suddenly his heart leaped in anticipation as a sweet voice called out to him. Marklus could see a burst of light ahead of him, beings were begging him to hurry. Marklus wearily began to move forward but the call intensified and came again. It picked up memories and danced them in front of him, reminding him of the reason he had decided to quest to the Great Water Hole in the first place. Now was the time, the day had come. It was the beginning of the end. Marklus picked up his feet and ran as fast as they would carry him.

  Crinte stood at the bottom of the staircase, gazing at the light as if he would never look away. He had arrived. Five steps led upward and on the other side he was sure he’d see the Great Water Hole, dark and evil spread before him. For now he stood calmly until he heard footsteps. He turned, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Marklus!” he called.

  “Crinte!” Marklus ran forward, arms wide open. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you again.”

  Crinte laughed as he hugged Marklus roughly. “We made it, after all.”

  “Crinte? Marklus?” Starman’s voice questioned as he jogged up, his eyes wide.

  “Starman, you made it too!” In his excitement Marklus reached for him as well. Crinte met Starman’s eyes. “Well done,” he said with a broad smile.

  A shadow walked out of the hall. “I’ve
been looking for you for days,” Alaireia announced with a crooked grin as she walked up.

  Starman folded her tightly into his arms before she could say another word. “I thought we’d never meet again,” he said, his voice gentle as he leaned back to look at her.

  Crinte nodded at her but Marklus joined Starman’s hug.

  A tall figure slipped up and Legone’s cold face was no longer a sore sight to see. “There you all are,” he said solemnly.

  For a moment there was nothing but the sound of excited chatter as, all at once they attempted to explain their own journey through the dark road. It was Crinte who pointed up the wide, rough staircase to the light above. “Shall we?”

  THE GREAT WATER HOLE

  Alaireia walked into the light, closing her eyes and holding her face to the breeze that blew back wisps of her shoulder length black hair. She could feel the hints of darkness leaving her eyes, the cobwebs of confusion drifted away and she breathed deeply. The air was filled with molecules of water and a hint of iron stung her nostrils as she breathed in. Moisture gathered in her eyes as she opened them and the view made her reach out for Starman, her fingers straying into his, entwining tightly as she stared. She gave a sharp meow of surprise at the landscape that spread before her. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  “I know,” Starman replied in awe.

  They stood on a ledge near the top of the canyon. Stretching as far as the eye could see were cliffs of rich, red rock, cutting through the land, opening up into yawning caverns with dangerous drops. Here and there waterfalls poured out of the canyon walls, thundering down to meet the source of the rushing water. The sky above them was shades of pink and purple, a color barely seen in the light of a sunset. Clustering over the sky yet shining clearly, each on their own, were the stars, their white bodies glowing abnormally close to the world as if pulled by some magnetic force. Although there was no sign of the sun or moon, light shone as bright as daylight. The air was wet and chilly and Alaireia’s hand grew clammy as she clasped Starman’s. She felt deceived. All along she had been expecting to walk out of the Slutan Tunnels into the Great Water Hole, an evil land overflowing with transformed, dark creatures. In reality it appeared she had caught a glimpse of paradise.

  Starman continued to stand with his hand in hers, his mouth agape. Marklus’ arms lay lax by his side, his face a mask of surprise. Crinte for once looked at a loss, but Legone stood a bit taller and tilted his chin in resolve. Using his bow he pointed at the expanse around them. “This is exactly what he does.” He glanced at the others. “We have come too far and fought too hard in the darkness to give in now. He wanted us dead but if he can transform us, now that is worse than death. A warm welcome and a glimpse of paradise is his way to take us down.”

  Crinte swallowed hard. “See the mist? That is where we want to go.”

  Marklus looked out, in the distance on the other side of the canyon he could see a darkness hovering over the waters. Even as the breeze blew he saw it, just as he had in his dream, a dark tower rising out of the canyon. It’s glinting obsidian coloring stood out against the canyon as it rose, towering into the magenta sky, cutting off all hope. Suddenly the beautiful landscape felt lost in its shadow and Marklus felt the chilly shadow of horror that quickened his breath, clutching at his throat. His hands were cold as he wrapped them around his bow, he could already hear the terrified screams below and the shrieks of the transformed. They had walked through halls of darkness only to arrive at a bewitching graveyard with a decoy of peace resting upon it.

  “Crinte,” Marklus whispered. “Our orders?” He had imagined himself saying those words, but the moment had seemed much more epic, marching determinedly into the Great Water Hole with an army behind them, ready to take down Sarhorr the Ruler. In reality it was too quiet, too peaceful. At any moment he expected the watchers in the tower to swoop out, whisking them away to an impenetrable prison.

  “My friends,” Crinte began, turning to face them on the rusted red ledge. “I have asked much of you. Your strength has been tested. Your minds have been exposed to what we truly face, a quest for power and an alternative paradise for immortals. In your hearts you know the Western World belongs to the mortals, and our people deserve to keep this land, to live out our numbered days as we wish. That is why we are here, to put an end to this madness. That is why we find ourselves risking it all and walking straight into his domain, brave enough to face him head on. We have all lost something because of his selfish desires, our homes, our families, our loved ones. Today we end this once and for all. Today we stand together and face this demon from an alternate world. Today our power unites. This is our purpose, to trap this powerful being with what he desires most—power. Do not let your hearts grow weary, do not let them falter right here at the end. We have come too far to give in now. So I ask you, here at the beginning of the end, do you stand with me?”

  Crinte raised his sword in the air, his eyes blazing as he looked at his warriors. Legone was the first to step forward. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and raised it in the air. “Aye!”

  “Aye!” Echoed Marklus, raising his arrow as well.

  “Aye.” Alaireia added her sword and a light began to shimmer with in.

  “Aye,” Starman spoke clearly and surely. He joined his weapon with the others and a spark of light shot into the air as the blades struck against each other.

  Crinte could feel the bloodlust surging through him and his eyes turned gold as he looked at each of his warriors. “The armies of Mizine draw near,” he told them. “We have little time before this region is thrown into chaos and we need to make the most of it. Each of you needs to ensure your army is in place to fight off the guards. Our main goal is to confront him in the tower and each of you have a unique mission to complete.” He paused, letting his visions drift into their thoughts, showing each of them what they needed to do next. “Alaireia, the Clyear of Power is our bait. It is the one thing he does not have that will complete his ultimate dominion. Legone, the Boleck will be the trap. Once he becomes desperate enough to slip into spirit form you must trap him in it. Starman, you and I must keep the path clear to the Great Water Hole. The Boleck with the spirit of Sarhorr must be cast into the waters of transformation to ensure his spirit death. Marklus, you stand between life and death. You will know when his demise is complete.”

  Marklus could hear the shadows from the other side whispering from the currents of the deathly waters. He remembered when he first set out for the Great Water Hole, foolish and alone, quickly tackled into prison. He recalled sitting in the grimy prison cell, waiting for something to happen, even if it were only the end. Here at last he found himself at the end and adrenaline tingled through his body.

  Alaireia pulled out her Clyear, whispering gently to it before blowing on it, cloaking them in shadow. They blended into the canyon walls as they began their last walk across the broad ledges, to the other side of the canyon.

  Starman held tight when Alaireia attempted to pull her hand away. “Don’t let go,” he said, looking at her with his deep brown eyes. “This is the end.”

  “You can’t know that,” Alaireia replied gently, turning back to stand face to face.

  “But I do,” Starman replied. “Remember what I once told you? If I am to die, I’d rather die surrounded by those I love. I thought I had to go home to be with those I love, but now I see that home is not a location. It’s the people you love that make home worth it, and you are the one I love. You are my home. This is the end. So don’t let go.”

  Alaireia felt a gentle smile touch her face. She shook her head in amazement as she gazed into Starman’s calm, open and honest face. Yet as she looked into his eyes she saw strength shining from them. “I always thought love was a weakness,” she told him. “I thought it would be the downfall of all. Yes, I want you to live. I want to protect you. But I know you can do that yourself. I see strength in your love and it encourages me. This must be the unbreakable bond they speak of that ma
kes the impossible happen.”

  Starman’s face lit up in a smile for a moment. He squeezed her hand and walked forward, following the curving path inward.

  Legone tread softly in the rear, an arrow nocked in his bowstring. He could see her again, standing in the wind, her sad, large eyes begging him to join her. Asking him to stay with her. If the world was ending why not run away together and leave the ruin and destruction to others. He could hear himself answering: “Because it is our fault.” She had lain beside him that night, holding him as if she would never let go. “You will lose your life if you fight this. You made a deal with a Changer, as did I. We have no power over him. You remember the exchange we made, so that he would leave us alone. We call it the banishment, giving him power so he would leave us alone. We alienated ourselves and he got exactly what he wanted. If you cross him, he will take everything.” He had threaded his fingers helplessly through her long hair. “I know.” She had taken his hand and pressed it to her heart. “You would leave me, your wife, once more? To live out her immortal days in sorrow?” He had felt his heart breaking again, afraid she would stray him from his fate. “I am here now.” She kissed him gently then more urgently, and the gloom of the world faded for moments as they were happy, as they had once been. Now the stark truth rose before him. He stood in front of the dark tower, gazing upwards. He only saw one path now; destroy Sarhorr at all costs. And he knew what that cost would be.

  White streams of mist shot into the air from blowholes throughout the canyon, retaining the aura of mystery. Crinte led the way, watching shapes move back and forth. The further inland they went the more the canyon came to life, echoes of what it really was screaming from each cranny and ledge. Booted feet struck against hard stone in every direction, armies streamed by above them, chanting in sync. Far below where rushing waters streamed into a deadly current, desperate voices cried out in terror as they were forcibly dropped into the transformative waters. The mist turned warm and grew thicker the further they walked into the beautiful nightmare, sticking close together, fingers impatiently tapping against their weapons. The tower loomed before them but as they grew nearer Crinte paused, watching it with narrow eyes. He turned to his warriors, motioning them to step back into the shadows of an overhanging ledge. Jagged points of the tower shot into the air while two horned creatures covered in gray armor guarded its massive doors. “I think the tower is a decoy,” Crinte told them. “If we wanted to take over this land our obvious focus would be the tower. Yet structures are built by mortals for shelter and safety. One with power needs none of those trifles. Legone, what do you think, where would he be instead?”