His lungs begged for air just as he was swept out to a bright land as the water bubbled into a creek. He spit a stream of sour water out as he opened his eyes, coughing. A hand grabbed him, and he looked up at Arldrine. Her black hair dripped onto her shoulders, and her eyes were bright; a slight smile quivered on her lips. Eliesmore watched her help Optimistic up and realized she was laughing. Ellagine was fishing Glashar out of the river, and Eliesmore saw they had come upstream and washed to the other side. The Olgla man and his tribesmen were a distance away on a hill, shouting something indistinct and shooting arrows that did not come close to reaching them. Arldrine’s light laughter floated through the air. “Ah, we tricked them. Let’s go.”
She elbowed Optimistic who laughed with her, his fist punching her shoulder lightly. Eliesmore’s mouth fell open in shock as he watched them. How could they laugh at such a narrow escape? They’d almost been killed! His heart was racing, and his palms were sweaty. As he stood still, he felt a giddiness in his head and found he, too, was amused by their escape. With a final glance back at the Olgla man and his furious tribesmen, he shrugged his shoulders and followed his companions, he would learn more about his interesting friends during their quest. They did not seem fazed by the adventure; they were only a bit wet.
The sun fully rose as they entered the dark forest, which shut out the light. Arldrine, thinking ahead, passed out food for the first meal: dried meat that ended up being quite damp. Eliesmore observed Ellagine and Glashar as they navigated the invisible forest path. Ellagine was unusually quiet; he wondered if she were still recovering from her ordeal with the Rakhai. Glashar, a stranger to him, seemed stiff and jumpy. The forest was silent. Dark vines threaded their way through the tree branches like chains, imprisoning life. Glashar looked up and froze, her sharp chin jutting out like a blade. Following her eyes, Eliesmore saw three vultures circling them, their scrawny necks outstretched as they searched for food. Glashar pulled an arrow from her quiver and raised her bow.
“What died?” Eliesmore asked in surprise. He was under the assumption that vultures only ate dead things.
Ellagine’s hand touched his shoulder. “Prepare for attack,” she whispered.
As more vultures joined the three, Eliesmore saw them eyeing him and his companions. A brief moment of anticipation passed before the vultures dived, their long beaks and sharp talons becoming clearer as they dove through the trees. An arrow flew up with a twang, sending a few of the birds crashing into tree limbs and rocketing off the ivy and vines. Curved talons reached for Eliesmore’s shoulder, and the foul smell of death and decay overwhelmed him as he swung his Jeweled Sword. He saw another bird fly toward him, its beak ready to plunge into his face. An arrow zapped it out of midair. For a few minutes, there was nothing except feathers and arrows flying. Then, as suddenly as they had come, the vultures disappeared.
“Evil forest,” Glashar remarked through her teeth, swinging her bow on her back.
They traveled on without further adventure, Arldrine leading the way as they crept through the forest. By midmorning, clouds gathered, and it began to rain. At first, a fine mist clouded their path, giving a pleasant relief to the warmth of the day. As afternoon fell, the rain intensified, pouring down as if the trees were non-existent. Eliesmore found himself dripping with moisture. His clothes were soaked through and clung to him; his pack was no more than a wet lump, and his hair hung in straight strands, dripping into his face and nose with each step he took. After the first hour of hard rain, it seemed as if the forest were dealing out a punishment. No one spoke. Faces were long.
As the day wore on, the rain grew tired of tormenting the travelers and blew off in another direction. The trees shook water off on to the travelers, blaming them for the freak rainstorm. The woods thinned, the grass grew taller, and everything dripped. Their clothes dripped, their hair dripped, their packs dripped, the trees dripped on them, and even their shoes dripped into the grass. The blackness of the forest faded, and suddenly the five walked out into the sunlight.
Eliesmore smiled as they walked free of the boundary line forest. Things were turning up after all. He looked up, and his smile froze. A hill sloped upward, and on top of it, there stood a male warrior. The sun was in his eyes as he pointed a sword at the company who had just emerged from the forest.
The male was a six-and-a-half-foot-tall Tider with dark brown hair hanging to his shoulders. His handsome face was set, and his jaw was locked, issuing a challenge to any who dared defy his will. It was evident from his expression he was used to giving orders and being obeyed. Eliesmore noted the weapons the Tider carried: a sword, two daggers, a short spear, bow, and white tipped arrows. He wore the garb that everyone Eliesmore had met thus far; dark green pants, a white shirt, and a green tunic. “Who comes from the boundary line forest?” His deep voice issued a challenge and a warning.
Eliesmore opened his mouth to answer the challenge. Once again, before he could properly have his say, Optimistic jumped out of line. “Zhane?” He gave a friendly shout. “Is that you? Zhane!”
The Tider sheathed his weapon and hurried down the hill toward them, a questioning look on his face.
“It is you!” Optimistic jogged forward to greet the Tider. “Zhane, I'm glad to see you again.”
The Tider named Zhane grasped Optimistic by his shoulders. “Optimistic, it's been months. Who have you brought with you?”
“Zhane?” Arldrine said. She walked toward him and paused. Their eyes met, and a swift flash passed between the two.
“Arldrine.” He gestured toward her as if he wanted to reach out and touch her. “Old friend, what news do you bring since the rise of the Rakhai?”
She smiled at him, a smile Eliesmore had never seen. “None you do not know. We bring with us…” She hesitated and turned to Optimistic.
Optimistic grabbed Eliesmore’s arm and pulled him in front of the Tider. “Zhane, this is Eliesmore, ‘finder of the Jeweled Sword, ’ he is the One.”
Zhane’s expression changed. Turning to Eliesmore, he knelt in the mud. His face showed the great honor he felt. “Long have I waited for this day. Since you are the One, I will go with you as one of your protectors.”
Once again, Eliesmore found himself at a loss for words as yet another joined his company. “Thank you,” he stuttered, embarrassed and feeling woefully inadequate.
Zhane rose, turning to the others. Reaching out, he touched Arldrine’s shoulder as if he could not resist before he greeted the others. “Ellagine.” He nodded at her.
“Zhane,” she responded, tilting her head.
“It has been long since you have been to the fortress,” he told her.
“I was searching,” she offered.
“Yes,” Optimistic interrupted. “She was the first to find Eliesmore.”
Zhane raised his eyebrows as his eyes met Glashar’s.
“I am Glashar the Falidrain,” she told him. “One of the Idrain who did not flee to the Beyond.” Unlike the others, she did not smile at him. Her eyes were calm, unemotional.
“Yes.” Zhane pulled memories from the air. “You came to the fortress long ago. You did not stay long.” He studied her with a question in mind. Glashar dropped her eyes lest her secrets be revealed.
“She used all her powers healing Eliesmore when the Rakhai attacked us,” Optimistic put in, standing up for her.
“Well done for the little group.” Zhane nodded.
“Where are you going?” Ellagine asked.
“To find you,” Zhane explained, his voice becoming serious. “There is a gathering of White Steeds at the fortress; you must be there. We must plan our next course of action since the rise of the Rakhai, and we should hurry.” He glanced back the way he had come. “We want to be at the fortress within the week.”
“Lead on then, Zhane,” Arldrine prompted.
His eyes fell upon her again; he opened his mouth to say something, but instead, he turned and led the way up the hill. Eliesmore followed beside Optimist
ic who chatted happily at his side. He felt an exciting adventure was beginning. He would be lucky if he lived through the dangerous and impossible quest. Even as he walked through the fading rays of sunshine, his quiet thoughts drifted toward home and his mother, Myran. Shades of sorrow struck his heart, and he knew, beyond a shadow of the doubt, the rampage of the Black Steeds had killed everyone, even his mother.
25
Sarhorr
Year 782 (161 years ago). Castle Range.
When he saw her, he knew his salvation was at hand. Even though his brother and sister had stopped torturing him, he felt the sting of their hatred daily. Over the past ten years, he’d focused on regaining his full strength and power while his brother and sister wasted their time traipsing through the South World. They hunted for the Green Stone, snatching at every thread of knowledge whispered through the wind. Their actions made him hope he could outwit them, yet he needed an ally.
It was one spring morning when they were away, locking him, alone, in the sprawling citadel in Castle Range. He did not understand why they built themselves a castle; it seemed too similar to the inclinations of mortals, a tomb which kept him away from the nature he craved. It proved useful for their monthly rituals. Each full moon, they captured gifted mortals or immortals and drained their power in a bloody ceremony they called the Klieng. Sarhorr was well aware it was unnecessary to slay the person, but it was half the fun. He thought back to his time with the Green People when he ripped open the heart of their queen and ate it. He had a thirst; he craved more power.
He smelled her first, the odd yet familiar scent of rich red blood mixed with the yellow tang of sunlight and the heather whispers of the wind. He bit his tongue, thinking of how delicious her power would taste right before it flowed through his veins. Blood of my blood.
He went to the balcony that overlooked the ceremonial room. It was shaped like a sphere with a circle in the middle. Four grooves ran out from it like a compass, pointing north, south, east and west. The female stood in the midst of the circle with her hands outstretched as if she were measuring.
“How did you get in here?”
She spun, and her face turned upward, searching for him.
He pulled back into the shadows, cursing under his breath in surprise when he saw what she was. A Green Person.
“Who’s there?” she called; her tone was firm, direct, and unafraid.
The ceremonial room was high in the castle and open to the air, although the curving walls were impossible to climb. Light streamed over the circle, allowing him to see her clearly. Glossy waves of hair cascaded down her back; its color changing according to the whim of light. Her pale green skin shone like a jewel. “Who’s up there?” she demanded as if she were in charge of Castle Range.
He spread his fingers, leaning over the iron railing to see her better. When her eyes met his he could see her gasp, swallowing quickly to hide her surprise. He was not what she expected, yet she wanted him; they always did. He could tell from the way her cheeks glowed.
“Oh. I thought everyone was gone.”
“Why? So you could steal something?” He narrowed his eyes, unable to guess her desires.
She gave him a quizzical glance, unable to tell whether he was teasing her or being serious. “I wanted to see for myself.” She spread out her hands, indicating the room.
He stroked his chin while his nostrils quivered. The air was full of her intoxicating scent. It seemed familiar. “See? No one comes to see the chamber of death.”
“Death?” Her eyes were drawn to the floor; her feet moved over the deep grooves in the stone. “Don’t you know? You live here. How could you not know?”
“Live?” He gave a bitter laugh. “You are mistaken. I am a prisoner here like you.”
“Prisoner?” This time she gave him an incredulous look. “I am no prisoner.” Her head came up; she unabashedly studied him. He could see the admiration and a hint of lust shining out of her eyes.
“Will you help me?” he purred, taking advantage of her interest. He had nothing to lose; perhaps her curiosity would be enough.
She tilted her head; she was intrigued. “Why would I help you? There must be a reason you’re a prisoner.”
Humility. She would appreciate it. He tucked his black hair behind his ear and dropped his gaze. “Yes, I admit that my deeds have been great and terrible. But they will hunt me to the ends of the world.”
She was young. Her eyes grew soft. “That is a terrible fate. Do you deserve it?”
He gazed at her, studying her delicate bone structure. It was her ears; they were smaller than most Green People. “Yes.” His hushed tones swept through the silence, shattering the spell that lay in the room.
She opened her mouth, surprised again at his admission of guilt. “What are your crimes?”
He felt as if he stood before a grand inquisitor. “I have made my life a quest for power.”
“Power.” The word fell from her lips like a stone. She smiled, a light coming into her strange eyes. “Then you must know that we cannot leave.”
Inwardly, he groaned. Outwardly, he let his expression stay neutral. “You know something I don’t?”
“Yes.” She nodded, turning her back to him once more and spreading her arms. “This is the place where the Green Stone will be dissolved.”
A lightning bolt of hope stuck his body, and he could not help the sneer that appeared on his lips. Her back was still turned, which gave him a moment to rearrange his expression. “The Green Stone?” He shrugged his shoulders as if he did not care.
“Yes…” Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she met his gaze. “Surely you know this?”
“I know many things, yet I suspect you also know many things. Perhaps we may help each other?”
The smile she gave him sent a flurry of feelings rushing through his body.
26
Eliesmore
Seven days later, Zhane, Arldrine, Eliesmore, Optimistic, Ellagine, and Glashar traveled quickly through the country of Sanga San near Oceantic. They were close to the fortress, and Eliesmore was both nervous and excited. He’d lived a lonely life with no friends or knowledge of social mannerisms, aside from those of the enchanting Iaens. Now he was going to meet the people groups. There would be individuals like him who believed prophecies concerning the One and the Green Stone.
The sky was as clear as a blue sapphire that day, and the grass blazed green like an emerald. Leaves had managed to grow on trees, although spring had produced no flowers. A profound silence penetrated the land because this was not a season of new birth and life. The animals were hiding because none should be born into such a world as the South World.
A shimmering body of water appeared in the distance, and Eliesmore assumed it was Oceantic, which meant he had come clear across the Eastern Hill Countries. As they descended into a thick mass of underbrush, Oceantic was hidden from view.
Warm rays of the sun danced across Eliesmore’s face, a reminder the hot months would come as they traveled. Eliesmore questioned how long it would take to reach the Constel Heights. Thoughts were pushed out of his head when he saw something ahead. No, it was nothing. Blinking, he looked again, swearing he saw something camouflaged in the undergrowth. A few minutes later, they came out of the underbrush and stood before it. The fortress rose high above them; it was built in the time of Magdela the Monrage. It served as a place of safety and protection for the White Steeds, a home where they could lick their wounds and grow their numbers. As Eliesmore gazed at it in awe, he could hardly believe so few White Steeds lived there. The white stones of the fortress seemed impenetrable compared to the small hut he’d grown up in. Curious, he wondered why his mother had chosen to live where they did instead of joining the White Steeds in their great fortress.
Zhane stopped and pointed. “There it stands. We thought it was going to fall when the Black Steeds raided it, killing many a brave friend. But we are still here to tell the tales of what happened then. I hope there
will always be White Steeds to guard this fortress.”
“Me, too,” Eliesmore echoed, eyes bulging as they moved forward again.
White stairs as wide as a tree trunk led the way upward to the fortress, where white columns decorated its gates. The roof was covered in green the color of leaves while the sides of the building were brown like tree bark. The back of the fortress was blue, causing it to be easily mistaken for the sky or waters of Oceantic. Eliesmore slowed down as he gazed at it, wondering how it had gotten so many colors. Did the Daelidrains have anything to do with it? Nevertheless, it was better than his expectations. He felt like a hero of old when they discovered great mysteries of the past and basked in their glory. He could feel the anticipation bubbling within in as he gazed at the building. Turning to his left, he glanced at Optimistic who was staring at the building. His face was still, and his eyes were dark.
“What is it?” Eliesmore probed.
“It’s like coming home.” Optimistic’s voice was sad. “Except to an empty home because so many have been killed.”
Eliesmore turned back to the fortress with a new air of respect. “I suppose this is my home now, too.”
“One day you will understand.” Optimistic nodded, shaking his shoulders as if he could simply shake off grief.
“If I ever do get back,” Eliesmore mumbled under his breath.
They walked up the high stairs with reverence. As they reached the colonnade, held upright by white columns, the doors to the fortress were flung open. A boom thudded across the forest as the male who’d opened the doors shouted: “Zhane, you’re back!” He grinned. His eyes were alight with joy as he spoke, “Optimistic, you returned. You left without saying goodbye.” He shook his finger at Optimistic.
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 14
