Eliesmore’s eyes widened in surprised as he looked at the Falidrain. There was an ethereal, golden glow about her, and he could almost see her lost powers floating above her in waves of glory. How could it be that she would give up her flight to the Beyond and join a quest that would cost her everything?
“We need eleven to go against the Rakhai.” Ellagine interrupted his musing. “We will go to the fortress and take with us all those who are left if they are willing. We must go with all speed.”
Arldrine nodded. “Tomorrow we shall be out of this dreadful forest.” At Eliesmore’s surprised look, she added, “We went far while you were healing.”
Eliesmore touched his side, the pain continued to lessen into a dull ache. “What is all this power between the Black Steeds and White Steeds?” he asked, eyes flickering from Ellagine to Glashar. “I do not understand.”
“There are two different powers.” Ellagine lifted her hands, palm up. “Light and dark. Good and Evil. The Changers uncovered dark powers and taught the way of the Great-Black-Evil to the Black Steeds. There is also light power given to White Steeds to use for good to keep the balance. The Black Steeds use their power to stop anything that might happen to benefit the White Steeds, and the White Steeds use their power to stop the Black Steeds from stopping what might happen. That is the simplest explanation, though there are different levels of power. I have the power of combat; I used it to chase away the Rakhai. Glashar has...had the power of life and death; she used her gift to heal you. Powers are only given to the few because some are unfaithful and others are not trustworthy. It is given for different reasons. Some are chosen, and others are not. I know it is a great responsibility; ones with power must be wise in all they do.”
“I see.” Eliesmore studied each of his companions in turn as if seeing them with new eyes. They had known the risks when they joined his company; they did not have a prophecy forcing them into an impossible quest. Their faces were exhausted, yet they were willing and unselfish. Shame pricked his conscious as again he remembered his rude treatment of Ellagine and how he had run away. The worst had happened to this small group, yet they were still there.
“There are many mysteries in their world.” Glashar untied her bag and pulled out several shiny, green leaves from the magnificent land of Novor Tur-Woodberry and his Singing Men. She wove them into a crown and placed them on her head. Pain and evil faded, and even the grimness of the wood waned. “I remember the nights when the Idrains used to sing and dance together.” Her face turned up in a euphoric memory, dreams of it whispering through the wood. “When the sun came up, we would sing and dance away to our home, the green havens. Many suspected we went there to sleep. However, we gathered in our beautiful kingdoms that nary a Black Steed could find.” The joy evaporated from her face like clouds hiding the light; it was replaced with longing. “The Idrains have left this world. They feared the Rakhai and left their kingdoms in ruin. One day, Eliesmore, when you have completed your quest, better times will come. In the past, we sang and danced for many nights. We feasted with food and drink under the light of the stars. When the Green People of the Western World came, they took us to new heights of glory. ‘Song’ was foretold yet none dreamed it would affect us, the immortals, the Iaen, the Idrains. Alas. Magdela the Monrage sprang from our midst. She was the first Iaen to join the Black Steeds, except for the Wodnidrains. She told all the White Steeds beautiful secrets and all the Black Steeds dark ones, and the South World has gone wrong ever since. You can restore it Eliesmore. Not to what it was, but you can make it far greater and far better.” She motioned with her hands, encompassing the five of them that sat in the glade. “We will help you.”
“Yes,” Eliesmore whispered, “help me bear this burden.”
“We will,” said Ellagine, “we will.”
Deep down, Eliesmore knew he was alone. The others might come with him, but it would be his responsibility to dissolve the Green Stone and lead the armies of the White Steeds out to fight. Doubts flooded his mind as he thought of the complexity of his mission. What if there wasn’t an army? Glashar had said the armies of the Western World were coming. What if they never made it? What if they drowned in Oceantic? Every day some calamity happened to make his quest impossible. What if he failed? What if he lost his friends to the Black Steeds? How could they achieve the impossible? The Five Warriors had, but they already had a large army willing and waiting for the call. Pharengon of the Jeweled Sword and his Companions had stopped a civil war by going to the North Forests. There they slew Magdela the Monrage and faced a great dranagin. Perhaps he too could do the impossible and conquer the world. His eyes met Ellagine’s as he came out of his musings. “When do we move on?”
“At dawn,” Ellagine responded. He could see a ring of redness around her eyes, and worry pricked his mind as she finished with a sigh. “Glashar and I are weak; we must sleep.”
The rest of the afternoon Eliesmore spent lying on the ground staring up into the trees. The others had gone to sleep away their exhaustion and recoup their diminished powers. They had carried Eliesmore far, and none of them had slept at all the past two days. Thinking of his narrow escape, Eliesmore put a hand on his bandage. The pain had faded, leaving only an old ache. Closing his eyes, he drifted back to sleep.
When he woke next, Optimistic was awake. He sat cross-legged in front of Eliesmore and pulled the Green Stone out of his tunic. Instantly, green light flooded the wood and shone in their faces, turning them a brighter green with the strange power it held. The green light shimmered, and as Eliesmore stared at it, he noticed there was golden light as well as silver shining within. Optimistic held it out toward Eliesmore like a gift.
“But you are the Keeper of the Green Stone,” Eliesmore protested, desiring and dreading the stone.
“Yes, I know. Just hold it,” Optimistic encouraged, holding his hands out. “Since we were talking about power today, you should feel this. It is the greatest power in this world.”
Wordlessly, Eliesmore touched the stone. It was smooth without the slightest mar in it. Growing bold, he picked it up out of Optimistic’s hands and held it in his own. The stone was heavy, and yet he began to feel as if light were flowing through his veins. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise as he glanced at Optimistic.
Optimistic smiled. “I told you it holds power, and when it is dissolved, the power will take over you, and you will be unstoppable.”
“What about you?” Eliesmore inquired. “You carry the Green Stone. What will you receive?”
“Eliesmore.” Optimistic waved his hands as if he had been trying to tell him something over and over again. “I would do anything for you to get nothing back. I will carry the Green Stone all the way to the Constel Heights and protect it because I am its Keeper. You will receive the power because you are the One.” There was not the slightest hint of jealousy in Optimistic's voice, only genuine humbleness. “Great are the rewards of Heroes and those who lay down their lives for others,” he finished, his face alight.
Eliesmore listened to those words and, gazing with awe from the Green Stone to Optimistic’s face, realized what a great friend he had.
24
Eliesmore
Eliesmore woke before dawn, feeling refreshed, revived, and ready to travel on his own two feet. He stood, trying not to be rough on his mending body. Finding his pack, he shook Optimistic awake. “Come, let’s wake the others.”
Optimistic opened his mouth wide, yawning. He stretched before he snatched up his pack and led the way to where Glashar, Ellagine, and Arldrine were sleeping on the other side of some trees. “Eliesmore.” He scratched his head at the empty glade. “They were right here.”
“Yes.” Eliesmore spun around in confusion. “I could see them from where we slept. Where have they gone?”
“Maybe they just left for a moment and will be returning to wake us,” Optimistic suggested. Then he shook his head. “That wouldn’t make any sense. Let’s just look around for a bit.”
> They crept through the sinister forest, inwardly blaming it for misplacing their friends. Eliesmore strained his eyes, staying close to Optimistic and wishing the forest were brighter. The light of the Green Stone would be helpful in their search, yet it was too dangerous to pull out. Optimistic paused abruptly, and Eliesmore bumped into him. “What is it?” he whispered, eyes darting upward.
“Look!” Optimistic knelt to examine the ground. “Footprints.”
Eliesmore squatted beside him, taken aback by what he saw. A booted front print was stamped into the mud; the size of it made his heart quail. It was at least two feet long. “Are there more?” Eliesmore asked, his voice hoarse.
“Yes, let’s follow them.” Optimistic crept forward, his eyes on the ground. “Maybe the owner of these footprints took our friends.”
Eliesmore felt a lump in his throat as they continued into the thicket. What were they following? What kind of monster would be waiting for them at the end? Just when he opened his mouth to protest, he remembered that he was part Cron. Lust for adventure ran through his veins, and the words he spoke next were filled with venom: “Let’s get our friends back.”
The trail led them farther into the murkiness of the woods, and a smoky haze muted the dim light as the trees thinned. Optimistic motioned for Eliesmore to stay behind him as he crept stealthily toward the sound of a fire, crackling and popping. In fact, when Eliesmore strained his ears, he realized the fire was singing a nasty song:
“Crackle! Pop! I’m getting hot!
Ready, ready to turn them tart.
High I go; you stack the wood.
Up I’ll fly to the roasting stick,
Roast the creatures! Crackle! Pop!
Smoke billows rise high in the sky.
Tell everyone in the forest.
Let them smell the cooking pot.
Squish them! Squash them!
Now the bones slide out nicely.”
The fire continued to sing its carnivorous song. Optimistic nudged Eliesmore and pointed. The owner of the footprints lumbered into view, carrying a massive pot. It was a twelve-foot-tall giant with dark hair that stuck out from his face like a willful cloud. His muscular, bare arms were covered in hair, as was his face. He paused for a moment to drop three people into the pot before dragging it toward the fire. Eliesmore glanced at Optimistic who already had a white-tipped arrow in his bow. “Let’s go,” Optimistic whispered.
Eliesmore yanked his Jeweled Sword out of its sheath with such force his side began to hurt again. He hissed in pain as black spots danced before his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw the fire dancing as it sang its naughty song. Pursing his lips in displeasure, he scanned the clearing for ideas. When his eyes landed on a cracked bucket of water, he took a deep breath and put his sword back away. With a rush of adrenaline, he snatched up the bucket of water, ran to the fire, and threw it over it. The song the fire sang puttered out as it sunk to glowing embers. Eliesmore nodded with satisfaction as a shadow fell over him. He turned around and looked up into the scowling face of the giant. “I am the Olgla Man!” the giant bellowed, the roar of his voice shaking the leaves on the trees. “I have my tribe, and we do whatever we like in this forest. You must be punished for destroying my fire!” He dropped the pot he’d been carrying. A second later, Arldrine climbed out, giving Glashar and Ellagine a hand.
Out of the corner of his eye, Eliesmore saw Arldrine sprint over to where her bow and arrows lay. Apparently, the giant had taken their weapons while they slept. He could see Optimistic had an arrow trained on the Olgla Man. Feeling confident, he pulled out his sword and aimed the sharp point at the giant. “You took my friends. I have come to take them back,” he replied, proud of his calm and even tone as he addressed the giant. He could be a leader after all, and he straightened his shoulders, his head swelling with pride.
“I am hungry,” the Olgla man thundered down at Eliesmore. “You deprive me and my tribesmen of a meal!”
“Find something else to eat,” Eliesmore ordered, waving his sword like he was swatting away a fly.
“I captured them, and I have every right to eat them,” growled the Olgla man, crossing his arms as he failed to notice his potential meal escaping.
Arldrine and Glashar had recovered their weapons and now lifted their bows, arrows ready to fly. Eliesmore took a step backward. “We have our weapons. Now, if you will excuse us...”
He took another step backward, intending to take his friends and flee into the woods when the Olgla man turned to the trees behind him and shouted: “Tribesmen!”
Eliesmore paused mid-step; his eyes widened as six giants, ranging from nine to eleven feet tall, marched up behind the Olgla man, three on each side. They wore animal skins, some with heads still attached. Each tribesman was armed with a long knife for killing and a shorter knife for skinning and eating. Each giant held a bow in hand, and in every bow was an arrow that was pointed at Eliesmore and his companions. Eliesmore opened his mouth and closed it again, knowing one wrong move would mean he and his friends would be skewered on the edge of those arrows. “You win,” he forced the words from his mouth, hanging his head in defeat.
The Olgla man threw back his head and roared. “That’s what I like to hear,” he boomed.
“But.” Eliesmore put out his hand to stop the uproarious laughter. “You may not eat us.”
The Olgla man frowned, his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle of his broad face. “What is there to stop us from eating you?”
Eliesmore had no response. He knew he had not escaped from the Rakhai to be eaten by the Olgla man and his tribesmen, yet he could not think of how to talk them out of their situation. Moving his face, he glanced at his friends. He couldn’t see Ellagine — who was likely mortified at their situation— but Optimistic and Glashar had dropped their bows. Arldrine’s expression was unreadable as she cocked her head.
The Olgla man went on. “You should have thought about us before you entered our forest. My tribesmen never miss and running is in vain. Put away your weapons; we have you now.”
Eliesmore clenched his fists in a fury, sputtering and waiting for the brilliant escape plan to enter his mind. He was the One, after all; he should know best.
“You are right.” Arldrine’s calm tone interrupted his panicked thoughts. “We are in your power. Send us to the water tunnels.”
Eliesmore’s jaw dropped as he glared at Arldrine. How could she go against him on this? Wasn’t she on his side? In his service?
The Olgla man stared at Arldrine as if she were trying to trick him. Even his tribesmen turned to their leader in confusion. “The water tunnels,” the Olgla man repeated.
“Yes.” Arldrine stood tall, her voice taking on a commanding ring. “You have captured us, but we have the right to request an honorable death. The water tunnels should be our final stand. Will you honor our request?”
Understanding dawned on the Olgla man’s face, and a malicious grin split his face. “It's better than roasting, eh? Well, then, in you go.”
With hoots of laughter, the tribesman slung their bows on their backs and snatched up Eliesmore and his friends, dragging them, struggling, off to the water tunnels. They were taken to a cave where the Olgla man rolled away a stone door. The five were dropped into a pitch black hole, and the last sound Eliesmore heard was the roar of laughter. “Have fun,” shouted the Olgla Man. He rolled the stone back, and the sounds of the forest disappeared.
Arldrine was the first to rise. “Come on,” she said, her voice echoing in the musty underground. “I know the way out. We have to run, or the waters will drown us. Follow me!”
Eliesmore did not know whether to be angry or amazed. Shaking his head, he leaped up with the others, bumping into Optimistic as they ran through the soft mud of the tunnel. It oozed beneath their feet, causing them to lose their grip and slip and slide downward. It wasn’t long before they heard a roaring sound behind them.
“The water!” Glashar called, her voice high and silv
ery.
“Run,” commanded Ellagine.
Eliesmore looked back as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the water. A wave crashed toward them, rolling and spinning with all the force of a waterfall. It slammed into their knees, knocking them off their feet. They were forced to the top of the water stream, sputtering and splashing.
“Swim,” shouted Arldrine, diving into the water like a fish. “This is only the first one.”
They shot through the water as the mud sucked it in, creating a popping sound as it turned to slush. The water sank into the ground until they were able to run again. They hadn’t gone more than a few feet when they heard the roar of the second wave. It slammed down on them, tossing them into the mud before lifting them like a water giant. Eliesmore gasped as he sank under the waves. For mere moments he was lost, unable to breathe or see. When the waves lifted him to the surface, he sucked in air, noting the tunnel ceiling was lowering. Ahead, he could see Optimistic and Glashar, but he couldn’t find Arldrine or Ellagine. The roar of a third and fourth wave knocked all reason from his mind as he panicked, remembering the barrels of water in the torture chambers of the Torsilo Quarts.
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 13
