The Blended Ones (The Four Worlds Series Book 2)

by Ford, Angela J.

  Phyllis walked beside Ilieus with her hood up and her head down to avoid the bitter rains. She’d put Roturk into a basket Miri had provided and held it close to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around it. The dranagin didn’t seem to mind the rain; he had his head out and was watching it with interest, sticking out his tongue to taste the odd liquid from the sky. His scales were a shiny, liquid red and glistened as the rain fell on them.

  Artenvox led the way, head held high as he wore his full suit of armor. The rain clanged against it unevenly, complaining about its inability to penetrate past the thick walls of armor.

  “Are you sure we should be boarding a ship in this weather?” Ilieus asked, her teeth chattering as she spoke.

  “Of course,” Cuthan’s smooth voice floated up from behind. “Besides, you said it was urgent.”

  Phyllis could almost see the smirk on his face, and a part of her wanted to turn and slap some sense into his carefree attitude. Miri the Keeper had packed bundles of food for their journey to the North Forests and elected to stay behind. No amount of persuasion or charming by Artenvox and Cuthan would help.

  “Someone has to look out for the Lost Ones,” she’d objected.

  “But you’ll be alone!” Artenvox complained, scratching his head.

  “Not alone.” Miri pointed at her tiger, Amos. “The islanders come and go, as always. Now leave.”

  As if encouraging them, Captain Winther’s ship had appeared, and now they found themselves dodging raindrops on their way to join the captain and his crew. A tiny shack perched near the beach. It was a pitiful shelter that might collapse if the waves surged up high enough on the white beach. The sand no longer sparkled in the sunlight; it turned gray and slide even further into the sea that was turning green with rage. A dinghy had been pulled far up on the shore, trapped in the mud and sand. It was secure even though the arms of the waves rushed around it, tempting it to come out to sea to play with them.

  Cuthan skipped down to the shore as the twins hurried to stand under the shelter. Even though his blond hair was dripping, he did not seem to mind the wet and cold. He carried a pack that had his fur cloak inside and food for the next month, although they were likely soaked through by now. His rich royal clothing was sticking to his body, showing off his slim features, as he marched to the waves. There was a grin on his smug face and a light shining through his green eyes. He gave a sigh of relief as he watched Captain Winther’s ship bobbing in the wake of the storm. Adventure was his again. No longer was he forced to languish in the lands down south; the North Forests were once again his path. He could almost taste adventure: the mysterious voices of the forests, the tang of evergreen and pinecones, and the uncertainty waiting around every corner. He was back, he was coming for it all, and this time the forest would not withhold its secrets from him. He was going to discover everything, once and for all.

  Glancing back under his long eyelashes, he observed Ilieus. She held all the clues, visions of things to come, in her mind; she would know their next steps. At least, that’s what she said the scroll would tell her, the scroll that no one could read but her. He sighed and spread his arms wide. It didn’t matter at all; he was going back to the forests, and maybe he would actually find what he was looking for.

  He blinked as he glanced at Phyllis. He didn’t understand her. At first, she seemed to want the same things he wanted. She’d shown an interest in his tale, yet now she wanted to protect her sister. Plus, she was hiding something, aside from the baby dranagin. He peeked at the little red thing again. It would grow up to be a dangerous monster. Did she know that? No, something had happened in Phillondorn when they were separated. Of course, he had not told her what really happened to Khalil and Lilhak; he supposed it was only fair she should withhold information from him. Artenvox’s sapphire ring glinted, and he narrowed his eyes at it. Artenvox had an unfair advantage; there was something stirring in the ring. Artenvox did not know how to use it to its full potential, but if he found out how to unleash his power of charm, the world would become quite dangerous for Cuthan.

  Captain Winther stood just outside the hut but far enough under the cover to be safe from the downpour. The wind blew into his face, and his white beard was dripping with water. A short pipe poked out from his mouth and he stood with his burly, hairy arms crossed over his broad chest. He wore a white shirt, and a sea green tunic over it. His jerkin barely reached his knees, and he wore a flat, brown hat on his head. Gray circles curled up from his pipe as he watched the four from his uncanny blue eyes. “Going somewhere?” he grunted. He was a gruff, short Cron, yet none would dare cross him. His slipshod belt had two knives and a long sword in it, and he carried a length of rope on his person at all time.

  “Ah, yes, in fact.” Artenvox stomped up to him, his boots squelching in the wetness. “The North Forests.” He winked as he grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Back to the North Forests for Cuthan and me. Remember?” His chestnut hair hung in limp rattails on his head, and suddenly he looked less like an adventurous Cron and more like a curious boy.

  “Nasty weather for this.” Cuthan marched away from the shore toward Captain Winther. “Is your crew all shipshape?”

  Captain Winther only grunted as he attempted and failed to peer down his nose at Cuthan. He took a few more puffs from his pipe and shrugged. “Weather has never stopped us before.”

  “Good.” Cuthan rubbed his hands together. “Let’s be off then.”

  Captain Winther tapped his pipe a few more times before placing it in a pouch. He waved to his crew members who were inside of the small tavern, stuffing their bellies with warm food and drink before returning to the bone-chilling, relentless forces of the sea. They pushed the dinghy out into the waves where it bobbed for a moment, its sides tilting dangerously close to the swelling waves. But at last, it righted itself, allowing Ilieus and Phyllis to wade out and climb inside with Artenvox and Cuthan.

  The massive ship rocked far above their heads, and as they approached, Phyllis could hear the sailors singing the song of the sea. It helped them keep pace as they maintained the ship, each to their station like a delicate dancer.

  Captain Winther held up two fingers. “Two days,” he grunted. “We will be in the north.”

  “Well then, no below decks for us,” Cuthan countered, crossing his arms.

  Captain Winther shrugged and walked away. He bellowed to his crew, “Raise the anchor. Let loose the sail. We move with the wind today!”

  The ship shuddered and groaned as it moved forward while rain lashed fiercely on its deck. Ilieus moved closer to Phyllis. “Let’s go below decks, at least we’ll be dry,” she offered.

  Phyllis glared at her, at first feeling annoyed with the suggestion, but it faded away as she looked at her sister. Perhaps Ilieus would finally reveal the secrets of the scroll. As they moved toward the hold, Captain Winther strode up to them. “Eh.” He pointed. “Take my cabin.”

  “Thank you,” Ilieus breathed, reaching out to shake his hand, but the Captain brushed past her, guiding them to the cabin where he flung open the door.

  It was a dark, dank room with an oil lamp burning on a table shoved into a corner. At least, that’s what it looked like to Phyllis. She was curious about the devices on the ship. Instead of candles, they had a base full of oil with a thick wick made out of some kind of whitish material she’d never seen. They had a glass vase over them and burned for long hours without flickering. The table had two chairs nailed down so it wouldn’t move with the pitching of the waves. The narrow bed was also nailed down, barely a foot from the table. Various ornaments hung from the ceiling, swinging as the ship moved back and forth. Phyllis had to hold on to the walls to keep her footing before she collapsed into the chair across from Ilieus.

  Ilieus’s face was pale again as she fiddled with the folds of her cloak before she pulled out the scroll. Phyllis took the opportunity to check on Roturk who was wide awake and chattering in his basket, the water and waves keeping him l
ively.

  “Will you tell me?” She turned to Ilieus. “What is written on the scroll?”

  Ilieus paused, wavering between fear and desire. Her long fingers caressed the parchment as she laid it on the table and slowly unrolled it. “You want to know what it says?” she confirmed.

  “Of course.” Phyllis nodded, surprised at how cautious Ilieus was acting.

  “You know, Phyllis, I am learning how to control my visions.”

  “You can see your visions now?” Phyllis leaned forward, excited. “How come you didn’t tell me?” she reprimanded.

  “Control.” Ilieus correct Phyllis, bitting her lip. “It’s tricky. I don’t see the dark shapes anymore, and I can push them away if I concentrate. But I don’t know exactly what it is I’m supposed to know aside from what is written on this scroll. Everything else he said I either do not need to know or it will be revealed in time.”

  “Tell me.” Phyllis reached out a hand to grasp her sister’s. “You know you can tell me these things.”

  Ilieus smiled, attempting to dissipate the tension in the cabin, even though her eyes were tried. “I know it’s just…” she trailed off. She straightened up and spread out the scroll. “I know you can’t read it, but this scroll,” she stroked the ink lovingly, “is the key to finding the Clyear of Power and everything else we need to ensure the safety of future Blended Ones.”

  “I don’t understand.” Phyllis paused, attempting to organize her thoughts. “I don’t understand why people hate the Blended Ones. What have we ever done to show we are dangerous? Why are they trying to get rid of us?”

  “I think there is more than the eye can see,” Ilieus offered. “Listen to this:

  The eyes of the jeweled ones will see it first,

  Hidden in the boughs in the forests of the north

  Among the evergreen where the midlands dance.

  Beware the blended, exiled ones.

  Past the death the Marshswamps brings,

  Hidden in rock the sunlight dares not part,

  Beyond the green havens of the creatures of the wood,

  Neither friend nor foe guards the keep,

  A horse of silver and winged with power,

  Keeping watch over the end of days.

  There you seek, and you shall find

  All you dream and fear and more.

  The death and life of all awaits.

  Seek, and ye shall find.

  Find, and ye shall perish.

  Perish, and ye shall live.”

  “Say it again.” Phyllis furrowed her brow.

  Ilieus slowly repeated the words of the scroll. “Don’t you see?!” She looked eagerly at Phyllis. “It’s the treasure map. It tells us how to find the Clyear.”

  Phyllis shook her head. “No…I don’t quite see…not yet at least. I don’t understand it and what it means. But you do?” She looked to her sister, searching her light eyes for answers.

  Ilieus began to roll up the scroll, smoothing out the wrinkles as she did. “Yes, I understand some of it, but it will be revealed as we continue to travel. Take it line-by-line. ‘The eyes of the jeweled ones.’ Did you not see Cuthan and Artenvox? Did you not look into their eyes?”

  “Emeralds and sapphires, they are the jeweled ones?”

  “But of course.” Ilieus nodded. “And ‘the forests of the north’ are the North Forests. The rest is yet a mystery to me, but it will become clear.”

  Phyllis looked down at Roturk, who was beginning to grow used to the rocking of the ship and curled up for an afternoon nap. “But what of your visions? How does it help? Will you never have an episode again?”

  Ilieus focused on rolling up the scroll, hiding her eyes from Phyllis’ daring stare. “We will see,” she whispered, shaking her head.

  Phyllis opened her mouth to say more, but she changed her mind when she saw the guarded look on Ilieus’s face. Instead, she reached down a hand to touch the dranagin’s back. Its scales had been soft at first, but they grew solid as the dranagin grew bigger. Now they were hard and slippery to the touch, reminding her of the liquid from crushed grapes as she ran her hands over them. What was waiting for them in the North Forests? Cuthan had been silent about his time there. She squinted hard as she tried to remember what the tales of old said about the North Forests, and shuddered.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Shipwrecked

  The rain continued long into the night, driving them northwest. Although Captain Winther did his best to keep the ship on course, the storm was relentless. On the second day of their journey by ship, Cuthan and Artenvox stood side by side on the deck, holding onto the rails as the ship pitched back and forth. “Ah.” Artenvox shook his dark head, and his eyes were looking down, watching the sea. “Have you heard the voices under the waves? Have they sung for you?”

  Cuthan’s emerald eyes moved back and forth, scanning the horizon. Black clouds hung like saucers in the sky toward the west, moving toward them like a monster capturing its prey. “No. Their demons sang for me though. We got caught by a River Ravone. Have you seen one?”

  Artenvox leaned over and propped his elbows on the railing. “No, in Midlands?”

  “Just west of them. They were strange creatures of a sort; you would have liked to fight them.” A slow smile started on the corner of Cuthan’s smug mouth. “It prefers mind games to physical violence, as you do.”

  “As do you!” Artenvox retorted, standing a bit taller. “I’ll slay first, ask questions later. Tell me what else you saw. After all, you were there far longer than I.”

  Cuthan smoothed his wet hair back. “The mountains.” He dropped his voice. “I want to go back to be sure, but I believe Ezincks live there.”

  Artenvox’s head snapped up, his mouth took the shape of an “o,” and his eyes went wide. He spun to face Cuthan head on. “Ezincks? Are you sure?”

  “I know.” Cuthan ducked his head. “They are rumored to be extinct, but I believe so.”

  “Do you know what that means?” Artenvox’s voice leaped in excitement. “If they are truly alive, we have the Four People Groups in this world, just like in tales of old.” His fingers twitched as he spoke, dancing across the air, dodging raindrops. “I’ve always wanted to learn from them the secrets of the forest. What if they still hold the same lore as they did in the tales? Can you imagine?!” He squeezed Cuthan’s shoulder in his excitement.

  “I know. I know. I know!” Cuthan’s eyes sparkled for a moment. “But calm down, we have to stay focused on finding this power source first, and then we can discover…”

  His words trailed off as the ship gave a shuddering quake and came to a complete stop.

  “Ciiiiii,” an unfortunate sailor screamed as he was thrown overboard in the sudden halt.

  “What was that?” a voice shouted as the crew came running to look over the side of the ship.

  “Who threw anchor?”

  “I didn’t?”

  “Did you do that?”

  “Did you hear that?”

  “What was it?”

  “Captain!”

  “Orders?”

  Confused voices jolted through the air, even the rain seemed to halt as the ship shuddered and groaned. Captain Winther appeared at the helm. His deep voice bellowed over the noise as he took control of the wheel. “Attention! To yer stations shipmates! Prepare for battle!”

  “Aye Captain!” the sailors shouted as they ran to their various stations. Rope flew through the air as the sailors muttered in rhythm under their breathes. “Heave. Ho. Heave. Ho.”

  The ship began to move again as the sails were fully let out, and little by little, the ship began to pick up speed. Meanwhile, Captain Winther continued to bellow out orders; his white beard was shaking as he moved back and forth, spinning the wheel as he forced his ship to cut a path through the waves.

  “Hurry!” voices called across the deck.

  Cuthan and Artenvox turned to watch them, taking in the excited tension in the air. In one fluid mot
ion, they looked at each other, their eyes mirroring the same thought. Like twins, they spun, turning from the deck to look down at the Sea, hands dropping to their sword hilts as they paused. Turning their jeweled eyes to the swirling waters, they saw a surge of foamy waves. As if releasing the built-up anticipation, the black clouds covering the heavens opened and released a torrent of rain upon them.

  “We need rope!” Artenvox shouted, drawing his sword.

  Cuthan moved his hand away from his sword. “What do we need rope for?” The deck tilted as he leaped across it, dodging sails and whipping up a thick coil of rope.

  “Cuthan!” he heard his name screamed. Phyllis was running toward him. “What’s wrong?”

  He grinned as he hauled up the length of rope and shook his head. She’d been wild, curious, and adventurous with him when they were children, but now her spunkiness had been replaced with something else. She was determined, not at reckless as he’d hoped, but she was catching on. He found himself thankful that she had not been lost to the Riders in Phillondorn after all. He draped the rope over his shoulder and shook his head urgently. “Hurry! Get back to the Captain’s cabin and stay there with Ilieus. Here!” He picked up another coil of rope and tossed it to her. “It may get rough out here; take this in case you need to tie yourself down so you don’t get thrown from the ship!” He couldn’t help but wink at her. They had only been on the ship for a day, and already another adventure was buzzing around him.

  “Okay.” She nodded as she picked up the rope that had tumbled down around her feet. She moved nimbly over the deck, but Cuthan didn’t stay to watch.

  He dashed back over to the side of the ship where Artenvox stood, his mouth open in horror as he pointed. Cuthan did not have time to reach the edge before the mischievous grin dropped from his face. He gazed up at the slimy, round, dark head of a monstrous sea serpent. It rose above the waves and continued to climb, its thick body spreading like an umbrella over the rain. It rose, wrapping its long coils around the ship, as the unending body quivered and tightened.