When at last their tale was finished, the Mermis kneeled, clasped their hands together, palm to palm, and bowed until their heads touched the ground. “All hail, King Pharengon,” they chanted, and the wood fell silent.
Indonesia was the first to rise. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. “I would have many more words with you.” She glanced from Phyllis to Pharengon. “But come, we will take you back to your Kingdom on the Silver Herd.”
“The Silver Herd?” Pharengon stood. But his words were needless because a troop of silver horses flew into the glade. They were much larger than the mounts the Horse Lords rode, and they were pure white with silver manes and giant wings. They trotted up to the Mermis, shaking their manes and nickering in excitement.
“Oh,” Phyllis cried, bringing her hands to her mouth in awe. “They are beautiful.”
“Yes, a gift from my Grandfather,” Indonesia announced proudly, almost smiling. “A gift for the Blended Ones.”
“You are Blended Ones?” Phyllis gasped.
Realization dawned on Indonesia, stronger than it had been those long years ago. She stared at Phyllis and realized they were the same. “Let’s ride!” she called instead.
But it was Cuthan who walked up to Indonesia, standing on one side of the horse she was about to mount. “I must know,” he spoke quietly. “You came to the Eastern World to collect tales. Surely you will leave and go to other Worlds?”
Indonesia caught his eye and nodded. “Aye. My Grandfather told us to look for something or someone. It is clear that he sent us here to bring Tharmaren the Wise so that you might save your world. But after we return you to your Kingdom, we will leave.”
“Take me with me you,” Cuthan begged.
Indonesia mounted her horse, not showing her surprise at his statement. She shook her dark hair.
Cuthan reached out and grabbed her hand with his unbroken one. “Please,” he whispered. “I have seen all I want to see in the Eastern World. I have been through the forests time and time again. Please. Take me with you.”
Indonesia froze, her dark eyes glaring down at him. Then she reached out her hand and pulled him up behind her.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Words
There were a great many accounts of what happened that day: the day the sky turned white. As the years passed, people spoke of it in hushed tones and whispered of it to their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. They told them what they were doing at that moment when they looked up and the sky was blotted out in a cloud of white. There is only one account that is known to be reliable. According to Tharmaren the Wise, on that day, he saw the very beings that had cast him into imprisonment in the Eastern World. They flew through the skies, bringing back the king, his counsel, the Jeweled Ones, and the Keeper of the Great Clyear of Power. When they landed on Wind Fresh, the Contrevails fled to their ships, and instead of returning to Contres, they hid themselves in the landmass, forsaking any allegiance they once held to Kronter.
The Mermis and their Silver Herd entered the castle, demanding all bow before King Pharengon of the Jeweled Sword as they spoke in awe about what he and his companions had done. At the encouragement of Tharmaren the Wise, they went to Contres to liberate the islanders and take Kronter into captivity because one as conniving as he should not be allowed freedom in the new era.
It came to pass just as the prophecy foretold. Pharengon became the first king of the Eastern World. To ensure his rule, he rode out with his Horse Lords to each city in the landmass to bring harmony and fairness to its inhabitants. It was rumored that even the Dezzi queen and her people surrendered to his rule. However, King Pharengon offered the Dezzi the island of Contres as a refuge for the Blended Ones where they could not be attacked or persecuted. Although the Blended Ones were accepted as citizens with full rights, there were still those who disagreed with the king and stirred up mischief wherever they went. After all, the land was still young, and the people groups were learning to trust each other.
During that time, Artenvox discovered another treasure calling his name, and at his request, Miri took her tiger and disappeared with him into the landmass. Pharengon and Thangone were dismayed at her actions, but there was nothing they could do to stop them. Crons will always be Crons: curious, unreliable, and always in pursuit of a great adventure. At last, Pharengon was able to rid himself of the pesky Treasure Hunters because Cuthan could not tear himself away from the Mermis. It was only a month later when they took their Silver Herd and forsook the Eastern World to spread the tale of Pharengon of the Jeweled Sword and his companions far and wide.
It was Phyllis who found herself misplaced. She stayed in Wind Fresh while the Horse Lords rode out and the Treasure Hunters took up another quest. She found herself spending more time with Tharmaren the Wise, and the words he gave her to read were not so unfamiliar. She began to write, and it was she who told Tharmaren the Wise what truly happened in the North Forests. Thus, he wrote down his account, and she began to collect the knowledge of the wisdom of the world. When at last they were done, Tharmaren the Wise lay down his quill and closed his eyes, never to open them again. He dreamed, and at last, the shadows were gone from his memory.
Hence the days of peace came to the Eastern World, and although the Order of the Wise was no more, the Watchers kept guard over the World. It was a year to the day of their return when Pharengon asked Phyllis to take a moonlit ride with him.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Rulers of Wind Fresh
The door to her study was cracked open when Pharengon went to find her. He nudged it with his foot, and it swung soundlessly open, but she didn’t notice. She looked older, he thought, although not much time had passed. She perched on the edge of her chair; one finger was raised in the air, posing a question, while the other held a quill. Rolls of parchment covered her desk, and candles held the curling edges down, casting dancing light across the room. Ink splattered across the pages of words, written now in the common tongue. He crossed his arms, a smile touching his lips as he watched her in a world of her own. She’d taken to wearing her dark hair in a long braid, and he missed the wild curls that sprung across her forehead. Her mouth was frowning as she whispered words over and over, attempting to figure something out. At last, breaking the spell, he spoke her name aloud: “Phyllis.”
She jumped and squealed, dropping the quill and leaping up.
“Pharengon!” she cried, running to him. The joy radiating from her face cast the hollowness from her eyes. He held out his arms as she flung hers around him, burying her face into his broad chest while breathing in his scent. She held him tight, sighing with pleasure as he kissed the top of her head. “How long have you been back?” she asked, lifting her eyes to meet his and pulling back, her cheeks red in embarrassment.
“Only a few hours,” he replied. “There is much to be said and done.”
“Ah yes,” she noted, pulling back even more. “You are a great king now and quite busy.”
“Quite,” he quipped. “Now, where are you going?” He teased, tightening his arms more securely around her waist.
“You are a great king now and not the Horse Lord I met in the wild lands.” She smiled and her eyes were bright. “I must give you due respect.”
“And you are a great Oracle now,” he returned. “I know your time is full spent here, translating the words of Tharmaren the Wise. May he rest in peace. But come, I would speak with you for a time.”
She pulled away completely, turning her back on him to return to her desk. “I am glad you are here. I have been feeling uneasy about this.” She lifted the Clyear from where it perched and held it up in the candlelight. “I must admit.” Her voice dropped. “I am frightened of its power. What should we do with it?”
He held out a hand to her. “Come, the night is young. Let us ride on the waves of the sea while we talk. There is a question I desire an answer for.”
They left her study, winding their way through the c
astle to the moat. Boats rocked in the waters, and Pharengon untied one before rowing them gently out to the Westiles Sea. They were quiet for a time, listening to the lapping of the voiceless waves. The sounds of terror had drifted from the world and left calm in its place. Phyllis noticed, with pleasure, that when she looked at Pharengon, his eyes smiled at her. The sorrows of a past life had drifted away.
He caressed the curves of her cheek in the moonlight; his rough fingertips tiptoeing as gently as possible across the map of her face. He stopped just shy of her trembling lips, dropping his hand to her shoulders. His eyes were dark blends of honey, and the moonlight made him stand out from the shadows, a white being in the darkness. “I know it is unfair to ask this of you. You have seen much loss, and yet I would ask you to give again. In exchange for my love, will you be my queen?” She opened her mouth to respond, but he shook his head and went on. “I know what you would think. You doubt whether the people groups will follow us. In part, that is why I ask. I am young, and you are one of the Blended Ones. By our union, we can show the people groups there is nothing to fear from us. It is as Ilieus once said, words and deeds will save us, not power. Let us leave the powers to the immortals, wherever they may be. It is more important for the people groups, the Purebloods and the Blended Ones, to live in harmony with each other. Will you help me make it so?”
The words should have been easy, but she pulled back, gazing up at him and understanding the burden of what he was asking. “I would rather belong to you in the wild lands of Phillondorn, where adventure is free for the taking. I would rather set sail and battle the endless monsters of the Westiles Sea. But more than anything, I’d rather be at your side. So yes.” She took his hand, turning it face up and lifting his palm to her lips. “Yes, I will help you.”
He leaned in until his forehead touched hers. “My queen,” he whispered.
Phyllis held onto him, for he was all that was left, but even as she did so, she saw visions of the future. The sun would rise in the east and set in the west, and their children would run forward in a free, new land. There would always be the rise and fall of powers, but the Watchers would keep the world safe. And so she let him kiss her because she knew when the sun rose, everything would be new.
“Our tokens of power…” she reminded him after a moment.
“Yes.” Pharengon pulled the oars against the shining sea, dropping a hand to his sword hilt. “I must keep the Jeweled Sword for a while longer, but none should control the Clyear of Power; it attracts more evil than good.”
Phyllis held it up, and as she did so, something shone within that clear, crystal horse that made her want to keep it. She turned it over in her hands, seeing her sister’s face once again. “It calls to me. It wants to stay.” She held it out over the water, unable to let go.
“Where it goes, it attracts a higher power, a power we cannot control. It cannot stay here.”
“And if it goes somewhere else? If it goes down south and destroys that land, that would be because of our actions?”
“We cannot waste time wondering what if a great many things may happen. The sea serpent could swallow it whole; it might fly away into time and space itself. We cannot guess what will happen.”
“Pharengon.” Phyllis held out the Clyear to him. “If the words of ‘Song’ are true, the One will need your sword.”
“When the time is right, I shall know,” he replied as he brushed the Clyear from her fingertips. It fell like a lightning bolt, dropping over the edge of the boat with nary a splash and sinking down into the depths of the Westiles Sea. A small glimmer was all that was left, and as Phyllis watched it, she thought she saw a crystal path leading south.
“I wonder,” she spoke as much to herself as to Pharengon. “Do all roads lead south? I wonder what is there.”
“There is a tale I heard.” He moved to wrap his arms around her until her back rested against his chest. “A tale told by one of the Order of the Wise.” His breath tickled her ear, tingling with mystery. “They say if one sails south until the world tips over and falls into the void, there you will find paradise, and there is where all the ‘wild things’ go when their time has come to an end.”
“Tell me. What do they say about paradise?”
“It is said that the mortals and immortals will, indeed, live forever there. There will be no more war, pain, sorrow, or loss. Only love and beauty and life everlasting.”
“Do you think such a land exists? It sounds impossible…”
“Nay, does it?” His arms tightened around her. “All the best things are impossible to attain. Yet, when they happen, it seems so possible that we wonder why didn’t we believe in them before.”
“Pharengon,” She tilted her head so he could kiss her. “I’m tired of mysteries. Will you take me home?”
“Aye, my queen.”
As their boat sailed into the cove and they followed the spiraling staircase back to the castle, a red dranagin flew overhead, landed atop the castle, and roared.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
The South World
100 Years Earlier.
The quiet lapping of the waves continued as they always had, washing up on the white beaches of the eastern end of the South World and rushing back out into the deep waters of Oceantic. Yet at their last pull, they tossed a silver boat upon the shore and raced away in haste as the boat transformed. A dark-haired male fell out of what had once been the boat, coughing and stretching as he attempted to pick himself up. He was long and lank and sat still for long moments, holding his head in his hands as he attempted to remember how to use his legs again. The waves slowed, pulling back to watch and whispering in hushed tones to each other because they had never seen quite a thing before in all of the Four Worlds.
At last, the male stood, swaying slightly on his feet and his loose dark hair tumbling to his waist. He turned in slow circles; his sky-blue eyes stared in bewilderment as he took in the waves, the ocean, and the outcropping of greenery that lay before him. A dense forest, thick with mystery, trailed into unknown lands. Emotions moved in swift entanglements over his face: first relief, a hint of fear, and then confusion. A sound made him jump. The waves rose up, moving closer up the shore, as a name was called out of the woods. “Legone!” It came again, a broken melody seeking an answer.
“Paleidir,” the male whispered, and he stumbled desperately toward the line of trees.
A blur of shimmering green burst out of the forest, and a lady ran, her skirts lifted in both of her pale green hands, while her long locks of translucent hair streamed out behind her. Ripples of green light rolled off her as she ran to the male, calling and crying all at once. His face broke as he reached out to her, and she threw her arms around his neck, fastening them tightly as if she would never let go.
“Legone.” She wept, tears rolling freely down her face as she kissed his shoulder, his neck, and his cheeks. “My love,” she whispered over and over again.
His arms encircled her waist as he leaned against her for support, yet held on, his eyes unseeing as he sobbed into her shoulder, coming undone for what may have been the first time in his life.
The waves thundered onto the shore, and, embarrassed by the number of tears shed between the couple, rolled back out as the two sank to their knees, continuing to hold each other. At last, forehead to forehead, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her long and deep. And the waves grew bored and filtered out to play in the deeper oceans for a while. When curiosity beckoned, and they returned, the two still remained on the beach, but they were standing again, arms around each other.
Her tears had dried as she leaned into his shoulder, and he spoke to her of things past. “I did not dream I would see you again, and yet it came, a whispered thought of salvation, just as you said it would be.”
“Did you bring them?” she asked.
“Aye.” He held up two objects before her: one was a horn and the other a crystal, winged horse.
“Well done, my love.” She looked
at both the objects and pulled him tighter into her arms. “I have news. I know where the Green Stone is. Now, we can begin.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A special thank you goes out to my sisters, Dorthea, Annie, Rebecca and Katrina for reading this book over and over again. Thanks for encouraging me to push the launch date and rewrite this book until it became loveable.
To my book launch team for shouting from the rooftops about The Blended Ones. It’s been a pleasure to have you aboard for the journey. I could not have done it without out.
To Debbie Scheller for creating a beautiful map of the Eastern World and making my vision come to life.
To Lori Follett for creating a gorgeous book cover – I cannot get over that sea monster!
Finally, thanks to Sarah of The Bookish Fox for going above and beyond with editing this lovely little story. Your hard work on this makes all the difference.
Of course, there are many others to thank, but like every Oscar speech, I hear the music playing and this must to be cut short. One thing that makes all the difference here is community and collaboration above all competition.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brought up as a bookworm and musician, Angela J. Ford began writing The Four Worlds, a fantasy action, adventure series at the age of 12. The storyline of those books was largely based off of imaginative games she played with her sisters.
The Blended Ones (The Four Worlds Series Book 2) Page 29
