29
Arldrine
Arldrine perched on the back of a chair, gently rocking it back and forth. She could already feel herself folding in, turning inward and curling up. Zhane and Idrithar stood, bent over the table, staring at maps of the South World as they conferred on the route they should take when they set off to help the One dissolve the Green Stone.
Ellagine listened, her ears rising and falling as they captured words. Glashar and Dathiem sat beside her, a comfortable silence humming between them. Arldrine continued rocking her chair, knowing she should go to sleep, but her mind was too antsy and awake to stop thinking.
At last, it was time. For long years, she had waited for the One to rise up, and now, having traveled with him, she knew the impossible could happen. Only, her eyes were drawn to the turn of Zhane’s head, and she wished he would look up and acknowledge her. She stared as if her eyes could compel his gaze. Her feelings weren’t important. Her goal was to help the One, save the South World, and bring peace to the White Steeds so they could thrive without fear. No one should ever have to live in hiding again, knowing the day would come when all they loved would be massacred.
A thought she’d buried deep inside her heart threatened to spill over. She refused to let Zhane talk about it, although the regard in his eyes was plain to see. At least, she hoped he offered something more than friendship. There was a future she dreamed of, and she hoped Zhane dreamed of it too. It was easier when they were apart when he traveled the South World and she was in Truemonix. She kept rocking. If only he would glance her way, she needed to talk to him. They both would be traveling with Eliesmore to the Constel Heights, and she needed to know where their relationship stood.
Zhane looked up at her. A flicker of understanding passed over his eyes. He glanced at Idrithar who was marking routes on a map with his fingers as he spoke. Arldrine watched as Zhane glanced to Ellagine for help, silently begging her to intercede on his behalf.
“Idrithar.” Ellagine stepped over to him.
Idrithar straightened up, motioning for her to join him.
Arldrine beckoned to Zhane. “We have to talk,” she mouthed to him.
“I’ll follow you,” he whispered.
Arldrine stood up to leave, miscalculated, and her chair crashed to the floor. She mumbled an excuse about being tired as she slipped from the room, suddenly not caring whether Zhane followed her or not. She found her way up a flight of stairs to a balcony and let herself outside in the dark night. The air was cold; clouds covered the stars, increasing the blackness. A little light shone out, and feeling the chill, Arldrine sat down and curled her knees up to her chest. She was strong. Only her feelings dared disobey. The unknown frightened her. She wanted everything to be all right, and they were set on that path. If anything got in her way, she could fight, although the fear of the Rakhai was strong. They had managed to frighten her, but she believed Eliesmore was the One and he would win in the end. She did not know where she fit in afterward. She knew her goal was to protect him and to help him in every way, and she couldn’t do that if…
“Arldrine?” a voice whispered.
She stood up, and there he was. “Zhane…” she began.
He shook his head as he reached out, pulling her closer to him. “Let’s not talk about it. We are going to help the One. If our minds are on the mission, what happens will happen.”
Arldrine sighed. The inner turmoil would not go away, but she was done fighting. She couldn’t help the next question that rose. She cursed herself as it drifted from her tongue. “Do you think that one day…?”
“Yes. I know the day will come when the One brings the world to peace and we can live unreservedly.” He turned to face Arldrine, his expression hidden in shadows as she bit her lip. “I’m living for you.”
Arldrine leaned forward, letting their foreheads touch. It was the first time they had alluded to what was there.
30
Eliesmore
Eliesmore woke to the glow of candlelight. He sat up, taking in the cave-like features of his sleeping quarters. It was an inner room with no windows. It was plain and simple with a bed in each corner and an arched door on one end. Wekin sat upright in his bed, whittling a piece of wood with his knife. The carving created a fine dust on his white blankets. Optimistic snored face down in a pile of pillows. Across from him, Yamier slept on his back. One of his arms were thrown over his face, shielding him from invisible light.
“Is it morning?” Eliesmore whispered to Wekin.
Wekin’s head snapped up as if Eliesmore were a ghost. His mouth turned into an “o” before he relaxed and shrugged, turning back to his knife work. Eliesmore waited, but no words came from Wekin. He stood, dressed, and, taking his sword, slipped from the room.
Silence buzzed around his ears as he walked the halls toward the kitchens, his boots thumping like drums on the stone floors. Passageways opened before him like a maze, and, like a thief, he slipped through doors, glancing behind to see if anyone were watching him lose his way in the sprawling fortress. It seemed the kitchens were lost to him until he saw daylight. He headed toward them, finding himself walking into a circular room full of windows. Carved golden columns rose at what would have been the corners of the chamber while the lights danced off each other, creating prisms. Suddenly, he felt like a child running off to find adventure and leaving his worried mother at the door.
He raised his foot to step farther into the room. A hush of reverence vibrated so strongly he almost removed his shoes. As his eyes took in the scene, he saw her. She had her back to him and was standing on a window seat, her nose pressed to the glass. Ink black hair fell to her neck. Her back was bare with silvery wings fluttering as they opened and closed, sending light twirling in a riot. The lights bounced off each other in glee. Eliesmore could see her ears, curved and pointed, sticking up above her head. The shape and size allowed her to hear better.
He rose up on his toes and took a step backward. His palms were sweaty as if he’d been caught stealing. He took another step, dropping his head to watch his feet, when, quick as a flash, the female spun around, paralyzing him with her eyes that shone like jewels. She floated for a moment before landing softly on her bare feet. She wore a halter-like outfit: short and scant that accented every move she made. She pointed an accusing finger. “You must be Eliesmore, the One ‘Song’ is sung about.”
“Yes.” Eliesmore’s voice trembled although he did not know why. She was only five feet tall, but her bare arms looked as if she could snap him in two and would enjoy every moment.
“I am Visra the Jesnidrain.” Her eyes flickered over him in disdain. “I am coming with you as one of your protectors. See!” She yanked a short sword from her sheath and waved it much too close to Eliesmore’s face. “This is my sword, Énvictosry.”
Eliesmore gulped, understanding the unrest his companions had demonstrated at the last meal. If this was Visra, he couldn’t imagine traveling with her. It seemed she was more likely to kill him than protect him. “I see.” His voice came out strained.
Virsa put her sword away, a wicked smile lit up her face, and she giggled. “Eliesmore.” She tapped his shoulder with two fingers as she walked around him. “Are you scared of me?” She moved her face toward his, and he caught the tangy scent of sandalwood and something else, blood perhaps.
“Nooo.” He drew out the word, knowing she knew he was lying. “Why do you want to come?”
“Ha!” Visra turned her back to him, spreading her wings before tucking them into the skin of her back. Eliesmore felt revolted like he’d just watched a snake crawl out of its skin. “Maybe it’s because I want to help. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of hiding. Maybe…” She spun around and showed off a sharp row of pearly white teeth. “It’s because I’m bored and I want to kill things.”
Eliesmore squeaked. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t feel much like the One, especially since he was lost in the fortress and she terrified him. She sniggered and walked out of t
he room, pausing once she was halfway down the hall. “Are you coming?”
Eliesmore scrubbed the back of his neck, and he turned around, his face warm. “Where…where are you going?”
She wheeled around and continued to saunter down the hall, leaving Eliesmore no choice. He followed her to the kitchens where the heavy smell of food caused his nose to twitch. They walked in to find the three Mermis gathered around a table with Ellagine and Glashar. All heads snapped up. Eliesmore noticed they were all staring at Visra.
“Eliesmore.” Ellagine beckoned to him, her eyes roaming from Eliesmore to the Jesnidrain. “I see you met Visra.”
“I’m back.” Visra laughed. She showed all her teeth as she leaned over the table.
“Why are you here?” Glashar demanded, a golden glow of fury surrounding her. She spun to Ellagine. “Is she coming? I’m not going if she’s coming.”
“She’s coming?” Visra mimicked. “Well, I’m going. She can’t come.”
“Enough!” Ellagine snapped, holding her fists out. Green flames leaked from them. “The past is the past. Let it go! Let your differences drift away.”
Glashar gave Visra an animalistic hiss and crossed her arms, refusing to move. Visra frowned, throwing her words to Glashar: “This isn’t over.”
Glashar continued to glare at her, and Eliesmore shifted from foot to foot. “What are you looking at?” He pointed to the table where strange markings grew, writing themselves with invisible ink and disappearing again.
Ellagine placed her hand on the table, pausing the movement of the letters. “Languages, which you should learn. There is the language of the Iaen and the language of the Black Steeds.” The markings on the table changed into different words and different languages.
Eliesmore felt his guard come up as he stepped beside Ellagine, unable to read the words. “What is this?” He pointed to a language swirling around the table. It was made of visuals, yet their shapes seemed to warn him. He stared at the illusion of the carvings, finding no meaning until they faded away.
“These are the markings for the Valikai Dialect,” Ellagine explained. “It’s an old, peculiar tongue.”
Eliesmore cleared his throat. “Does anyone speak it?”
“It is time for the first meal,” Glashar snapped. She moved her hand over the table, and the markings disappeared.
Eliesmore took a step back like he’d been slapped. Ellagine touched his shoulder with two fingers, a light pressure meant to be a comfort. “We’ll discuss later,” she whispered.
31
Eliesmore
Idrithar held up three fingers as he stood in the middle of the meeting room. Eliesmore shifted beside Optimistic, glancing at Ellagine for reassurance. They were all there. Four Crons. Two Tiders. Three Mermis. Eleven White Horses. Two Idrains. One Green Person. One Ezinck. Himself: a Blended One. Eliesmore scratched his sweaty neck, listening to the low hum of animosity scatter across the room. Could the others hear it? They sat in a circle, backs pressed into cold chairs while Idrithar paced the room. His intense gaze held their tongues silent as he spoke.
“Three deeds must be completed,” Idrithar began. “The first is to go to the Constel Heights and dissolve the Green Stone. As simple as it sounds, we have a problem. The Changers, whom we call the Dark Three, have sent their servants, the Rakhai, to hunt us down. As members of this company, our goal is to protect Eliesmore, the One, and Optimistic, Keeper of the Green Stone, until we reach the Constel Heights. This is not a quest for the faint of heart, nor for those who are desire life beyond this. Even as I speak, the Mermis of Spherical Land in the Western World have roused a great army of Xctas and Zikes to fight with us. They must cross miles of Oceantic, and there is no guarantee they will arrive at the Constel Heights in time. The Rakhai are aware the quickest route to the Constel Heights for us is through the lower Hill Countries, back through the Land of Lock. I propose we take the road north into the Sandg Sizge Hills, pass through the Torsilo Quarts, and cross the Jaded Sea in Truemonix.”
“Is it not risky to travel close to the Torsilo Quarts?” Dathiem’s dry voice spoke up.
“I am concerned with the size of our company,” Zhane added, spreading his hands to indicate all of them. “We will be easier to spot in the wild lands.”
“There is no need. The Mermis have been working on something to shield us.” Ellagine gestured toward them. “Our auras will be difficult to read and watching eyes will not readily see us as we travel.”
Dathiem sniffed. Zhane nodded.
Wekin, who was counting on his fingers, piped up. “How come there are three deeds? I thought…”
“You thought the Green Stone would be dissolved and that was it?” Idrithar’s eyes bored into Wekin’s.
Eliesmore squirmed. He’d thought the same thing. Once he’d dissolved the Green Stone, his quest would be done. His whole life couldn’t be dedicated to being the One. Frustration mounted and questions rose, but Idrithar continued to speak.
“Once the Green Stone is dissolved, Eliesmore will have the power he needs to defeat the Dark Three, which is why there are three deeds. The Dark Servant resides in Castle Range, also known as the Constel Heights. That is where we must go to dissolve the Green Stone.” His voice dropped, and his eyes stared off into the distance. “The Constel Heights are where the first battle for this world will take place.” His fist clenched and shook. “The second deed is to find the Phutal. We believe the Dark One is in charge of it. However, we could be wrong. It is the device the Changers use to create portals and move between worlds. It is how they banished Magdela the Monrage to the Eastern World. As long as they are able to move freely in the Four Worlds, we will never be able to outsmart them. Once the Green Stone is dissolved, we must trap them here in the South World.”
“Shouldn’t destroying the Phutal be the first quest?” Dathiem spoke up again; his voice was soft this time.
Idrithar stroked his beard. “We need the power of the Green Stone. It is likely the Changers will sense us coming; after all, they are drawn to power. We have to take the risk that they will be more willing to prevent the Green Stone from being dissolved than to flee through the portals and leave the fountain unprotected.”
Optimistic raised his hand like a child, waiting for Idrithar to nod at him before he spoke. “How do we know there is only one Phutal? What if there are other devices that can open portals into worlds?”
“A wise question.” Idrithar strode back to his seat, perching on the edge of it. “We cannot be certain. From what we know of history, eight portals open into the Western World, whether they were done by the same device or eight individual ones is unknown. When they were closed, they left remnants that briefly flung people from one side of the world to the other. It is known that the first Changer, the Ruler, went to the Western World via a portal and dwelt with the Green People there.”
His eyes slide past Ellagine at the mention of Green People. Eliesmore noticed her ears twitch as if someone had pinched her. It was not her fault. How could Idrithar blame her for the deception of her people? Although it wasn’t the first time, Magdela the Monrage had risen from the heart of the Green People in the South World.
“One of the Changers has the Phutal. We need to find and destroy it.”
“Is destroying it necessary?” Visra grinned, showing off her wolfish teeth. “We should use it.”
“No!” Idrithar cut her off, raising a hand to ward off her words. “No,” he repeated again with less urgency. “If we keep the Phutal, the Changers will hunt us down, find it, and use it for their own purposes. It is safest for us to take it to Daygone and destroy it.”
“I think we should keep it,” Visra muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she slumped in her chair. Yamier winked at her in agreement.
Zhane stood, crossing his hands in front of him. His deep tone penetrated each corner of the meeting room. “The Phutal must be taken to Rededak—the Dark—in chunskin olwlen, the Place of Evilness. It is only th
rough fire and water that a powerful relic can be destroyed. However, the Dark One resides in Daygone, and it is there we believe he creates the Monrages.”
Eliesmore pulled at his shirt, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He remembered stories his mother told him: tales of Five Warriors who saved the Western World and stories about the civil war in the Eastern World. He remembered Ellagine’s words about the Ruler and how he’d escaped, somehow, from the Five Warriors. “Which of the Dark Three is he?” he found himself blurting out. “Which one is the Ruler?”
Ellagine stiffened as if she’d been hit, and Eliesmore felt all eyes turn to him. He saw it then. He knew something they did not know. Something they were not supposed to know. The Mermis knew. The Iaens knew. Perhaps Idrithar knew this truth, but the others were in shock. Zhane sat down, covering his heart with his hand. Arldrine’s eyes were dark. “Who told you this?” she demanded. “Ellagine, is this true?”
“Run,” Ellagine whispered. “Run. Run. As fast as you can. Never stop.” Her eyes glazed over in a trance.
“It is true,” Glashar spoke up. “Few know this. The Ruler who wreaked havoc on the Western World was a Changer. The Five Warriors thought they had him when they trapped his spirit and dropped it into the transformative waters. Yet he escaped and came here to finish what he started. We call him the Dark One; they called him the Ruler. His name is Sarhorr, a name that should never be uttered again lest we inadvertently summon him here. He is responsible for creating the Monrages because creations and transformations have always been his gifting. It is no surprise that he has some predictabilities, staying in Daygone where he had rebuilt a version of the Great Water Hole. It is likely he has the Phutal.”
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 17
