Eliesmore and the Green Stone

by Angela J. Ford

  “Those are the great rocks that mark the beginning of the current,” Idrithar answered. “Hold tight; this will be a rough ride.”

  “Aye!” Visra shouted from the top of one of the rocks; her form was little more than a dark blur. “I’ve been here since yesterday. What is taking you so long?”

  Eliesmore clutched the sides of the boat as they moved in between the rocks, casting the boat into shadow. A vague roar sounded in the deep. One moment they were upright; the next, the tip of the boat pitched forward into the waves. Icy, cold water sprayed over them, causing Eliesmore to shout in surprise. He wiped it from his face with a wet hand only to find Idrithar and Optimistic both laughing.

  “This is delightful.” Optimistic leaned forward, a grin splitting his face in anticipation for the next wave.

  “Pull the oars in,” Idrithar shouted. “Let the current take us!”

  Eliesmore could hear shouts of glee from the other boats, although the crash of the waves and the mist kept the possessors of those voices from being seen. The water slapped against the side of the boat, rocking them back and forth before spinning them in circles. Dizzy with heady elation, Eliesmore felt the tug of the Cron within him: the drive for adventure and the thrill of the unknown. Fear was pushed away as they spun through the waters. The current sped up until Eliesmore wondered if this was how it felt to fly.

  Much later, when darkness fell, he heard his companions singing a boisterous, thumping song with a beat driven by the waves. Yamier and Wekin started it, and then Optimistic and Arldrine joined in. Finally, Idrithar, Zhane, and Dathiem added their lower voices until Eliesmore felt like stomping his feet and clapping his hands. This was what freedom felt like. This is what all people groups should have the opportunity to experience.

  Eliesmore woke to a scream. He jerked up, causing the boat to rock. “What’s that?” he whispered in the pure darkness.

  “Hush.” Eliesmore could just make out the motion of Idrithar putting a finger to his lips.

  There was a splash. “Visra, let go of me,” Glashar screamed.

  A strangled choke of rage echoed over the waters. “It’s not fair,” Visra screeched.

  More splashing.

  “What are you talking about?” Glashar snorted.

  “You took everything from me, and now you think you deserve the right to be happy? It’s unfair. You should die for what you have done,” Visra screamed. There were tears in her voice. There was a great splash as if her hand struck against the water.

  “Glashar. Visra.” Ellagine hissed, her green aura lighting up the night.

  Visra continued to scream, her voice drowning out Ellagine’s. “You have to pay. There are consequences for your actions.”

  “You were wrong,” Glashar shot back. “Don’t you remember what you did? You got caught, and now you have to live with yourself. You were punished. You were forgiven. Let me go!”

  In the green light, Eliesmore could see the two Idrains floating in the water, twisted together like seaweed as they spat and pulled each other under water in turn. Ellagine was attempting to paddle toward them, but the drag of the current was too strong.

  “It’s unfair!” Visra repeated. “You broke the law; you can’t get away with it.”

  “Coili. Hititer retítíh,” Ellagine demanded in Iaen.

  Visra’s fists came up, slapping the water as she addressed Ellagine. “She ruined me. She judged me and took everything. How come she gets away with breaking the law?”

  “Stop blaming me for your actions.” Glashar splashed a wave of water in Visra’s face. “You were out there killing people for no reason; you were headed down a dark path. Live with your actions, and stop forcing everyone to feel sorry for you.”

  “That’s not what this is about.” Visra growled, launching herself toward Glashar’s neck. “You are breaking the law right now. Ellagine! Someone has to punish her!”

  “Don’t you get it?” Ellagine’s voice was stern as she rose in the boat; she looked like a green statue with waves of light rolling off her stately body. “There is no law. There is no counsel nor counselors. The Idrains are gone, and the Green People are gone. There is no one left to bring judgment on our actions. Let this feud go; you are bringing nothing but pain for all of us. It doesn’t matter who’s wrong or who’s right. It is over.”

  Ellagine’s words boomed through the air with finality. Arldrine leaned over the edge of the boat, reaching for Glashar, who was spinning down the current. Visra climbed out of the water like it was a bed. Her wings flapped dejectedly as she sobbed.

  Eliesmore recoiled in terror when he saw she was heading toward their boat. She collapsed in a wet heap on top of Optimistic. “It’s so unfair. I will steal her happiness. I will make her pay,” she muttered darkly.

  “Visra.” Optimistic’s voice was full of concern. “What’s wrong. This outburst isn’t like you. Is Glashar the only reason? Is there something else?”

  Visra wiped her face and sniffled. She curled up in the bottom of the boat and dropped her head into Optimistic’s lap. He rubbed her back until her sniffles drifted away and she lay still.

  “I feel terrible,” Eliesmore admitted. The green glow in the other boat was gone; a stunned silence covered the sea. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “A word of advice.” Idrithar’s velvet voice covered the air like a blanket. “Stay out of it. The more opinions there are, the worse it will be. Two hundred years ago, the Green People brought civilization and laid down the law for the Idrains. They were organized with leadership, councils, rules, and punishments. Ellagine is right. There is no one to take this grievance before. If there were, perhaps her powers would be returned. It is likely Visra discovered something about her past and Glashar’s future while we were in Rashla.” Idrithar paused for a moment. “The bond between mortals and immortals has always been forbidden. After the rise of Magdela the Monrage, the Green People and Idrains shut out all contact with mortals. The world is much different, and it is hard for them to adjust.”

  Eliesmore nodded, forgetting Idrithar was unable to see him in the dark. He felt the tension ripple across the water as he considered the words. The bond between a mortal and immortal was forbidden. He looked out and found his eyes seeking the green light. But it was gone.

  57

  Eliesmore

  On the sixth day at sea, a hint of a shadow appeared in the distance. Visra flew ahead and returned shortly, buzzing above them. “Land ho!”

  “Were there any signs of the Rakhai?” Idrithar asked.

  “No.” Visra spun around, crouching on the boat behind Idrithar. She leaned forward. “There is something else out there.”

  She had snapped back to her usual terrifying self after her odd outburst.

  Eliesmore watched as the shadows blurred into trees, trees became a forest, and the sea curved into a cove. As they rowed toward the shore, Eliesmore could feel the oppression hanging heavy in the air. The air was thick, hot, and humid as he pulled his pack on his back, fastened his sword around his waist, and slogged through the water to the muddy bank. Arldrine and Visra pushed the boats back out to sea, letting their last connection to the east fade.

  “Secrecy and silence will be our ally. Come.” Idrithar led the way.

  They ran through the trees into a wide plain of brown grass. The dark rot of iron and burning flesh defiled the air. The pending storm hung over them like the edge of a knife, driving them into a frantic run. They could all feel it now: the fingers of death stretched over the land. Eliesmore felt each breath would smolder him; his back was wet with sweat within minutes.

  At one point, a dense fog covered the sky, and a loud buzzing distracted them.

  “Don’t look,” Optimistic whispered, pushing Eliesmore away from the west.

  His eyes were drawn to it instead. He saw a bloated body lying in the grass with a mass of flies covering it. He scurried forward; his mind refusing to process what he had just seen.

  A lone oak tree st
ood ahead; its thick branches were stripped of leaves. At first, Eliesmore thought great birds were on its branches, but as they drew nearer, he could see bodies strung up with rope around their necks while their clothes hung in tatters. It was evident that the vultures of the air had pecked away at them, stealing their eyes first and then eating their faces. Eliesmore blinked, feeling his eyes water at the horror of it. He knew what had happened to them as plainly as if he were there. These people had resisted until they were flogged and hung. They were kept alive until the sun and the wildlife did them in. His stomach turned. His fists clenched.

  Zhane came toward him, holding out a cloth. “The air is foul; cover your face and keep your head down.”

  Eliesmore watched the others wrap the cloths around their noses and mouths, leaving only their eyes. They moved through the wasteland.

  “Who did this?” Eliesmore demanded, jogging to catch up with Idrithar. “Who is responsible?”

  Idrithar pulled his mask down. In the distance, Eliesmore heard the neigh of a horse, and he jumped.

  “It is the Dark Figure, the third Changer.” Idrithar pointed west. “The Dark Figure resides in Silversliversidell. Sidell. He roams from village to village. He seeks power and wants to set an example for the people groups by creating fear and death.”

  “We think he is the head of the three Changers,” Ellagine offered, walking on the other side of Idrithar.

  Eliesmore noticed the company was grouped together like a herd. Yamier and Wekin kept bumping into each other as they walked, beads of sweat dripping down their faces.

  “I thought the Dark One in Daygone was the most powerful.” Eliesmore raised his eyebrows; his preconceptions once again collapsed on themselves.

  “You must be careful with your assumptions,” Idrithar chastised him. “Assume nothing. Believe nothing. Changers are malicious and unpredictable. While they may act together to prevent the power of the Green Stone from being unleashed, they likely have their own plans for the fate of the world. You might ask yourself why the Dark Three are not at the Constel Heights, waiting for us.”

  “Why?” Eliesmore asked.

  “Why indeed.” Idrithar dropped the topic, leaving Ellagine to continue.

  “You have to think bigger, Eliesmore.” Ellagine looked down at him, allowing him to see the concern in her blue eyes. “You have to think the way they do. If you had a plan to rule the world, to destroy it, and to escape from it, what would you do?”

  Eliesmore closed his mouth and pulled the handkerchief up over his nose and mouth. He considered their words. After a short time, night fell, adding to the gloom of the air.

  “Shall we stop now?” asked Wekin as he trotted along as fast as he could behind the others.

  “No. I am reluctant to stop on this wide plain.” Idrithar shook his head. “We press on.”

  The neigh of horses sounded again. Closer.

  Eliesmore waited for the cold prick of fear to capture his heart as the thud of galloping horses grew closer. His jaw set. He clenched his fists, allowing a wave of fury to wash over him. He understood Visra’s demand and her cry over unfairness. This was their world, to be terrorized and driven from their land was not right.

  “Halt,” Idrithar called, turning around and brushing past them to go back.

  “What are you doing?” Wekin cried.

  Dark shapes raced toward them, slowing down as they approached. “Fastshed?” Idrithar held up a ball of blue light, displaying their path.

  “You’re late.” Fastshed trotted up to Idrithar.

  “The Rakhai delayed us.” Idrithar glanced over the herd of nine. The expectation on his face turned into a question.

  Eliesmore squinted. It was hard to tell in the dim light or if the horses were gray instead of white.

  “The Dark Figure moves in Sidell,” Fastshed admitted. “We should run.”

  “It would be best if we can reach the mountains in four days and pass into the Torrents Towers,” Idrithar agreed. “Let’s go with all speed.”

  They fled through the barren prairie that was dotted with clouds of darkness and rotting bodies. Sunrises and sunsets faded, blood red and deep orange in shaded light. The horses ran all day and most of the night. Their flanks were coated with mud and sweat when they stopped. Eliesmore’s suspicions were confirmed in the vague light; the horses were turning gray. The uneven light played tricks on his eyes. At times, it seemed he rode on a great black stallion through a river of blood. Other times, the Jaded Sea overflowed, and he saw a wave rise like the hand of a giant, surging forward to bury him in the ground. He grasped his amulet from Ellagine, the light of Shalidir, and rubbed it between his fingers as if it could protect them.

  Idrithar repeatedly asked Fastshed to stay toward the sea, yet the horses ran inland despite his goading. Each day at midday, they would pause to eat mocholeach and reset the direction they ran in. Each night, the horses would follow their noses, fleeing from doom. Confirming the horses’ terror, the company began to hear howls and cries behind them. The Rakhai were on their trail, bringing the storm with them.

  The wind picked up, blowing against them. The heavens grew dark while black smoke blew across the western sky. A thick heat was in the air, forcing Eliesmore’s eyes to stream. The horses did not appear to notice. They drove forward as if they could not stop. An explosion echoed across the meadow, shaking the ground. Eliesmore felt the tremors even as he rode on Flywinger. His eyes were drawn westward to the source as a ball of red fire lit up the sky for brief seconds. Screams erupted. Even though he was sweating hard, goosebumps broke out on his arms, and he felt chilled to the core.

  A clap of thunder made him jump before the clouds opened, and the rain poured down: the tears of the Four Worlds as its destruction continued. Eliesmore could just hear Idrithar's shout, yet his words came muffled through the storm. Eliesmore pulled his hood over his eyes, keeping the rain from his skin. It rolled and bounced off of Flywinger.

  The wind slapped against his shoulders like a threat. Its voice screamed accusations at him. He was too slow. Too late. The west had fallen. The South World was falling. How arrogant he must be to assume he could stop the Changers. The dark side of creation. He played with powers much greater and much stronger than him. How could he expect to confront them and succeed?

  Hours passed. The night turned into day. Day turned into night. Fear drove Fastshed and company. A hail storm broke out; the rain turning into white pellets that slapped against them and created small bruises on their skin. Eliesmore kept his head down, although the wind threatened to blow him off Flywinger. A dark presence made itself known, following behind them like wild lions hunting.

  Eliesmore looked back. A black cloud of malice raced toward them, moving through the storm as if it controlled it. Three of the Rakhai were directly behind them. Black crowns grew on their heads. The crowns’ points twisted like tentacles that were growing, stretching, and reaching for him.

  Ahead, a clump of trees grew; they were bent over in the wind. If they had voices, they would be wailing under the brutality of the storm. The horses surged forward, even though they were nearing the end of their strength.

  A wave of blackness overcame Eliesmore. He opened his eyes and saw nothing. Then spots of lights blinked in front of him. Numbness worked its way through his body, controlling him and making his movement sluggish. Iron determination faded, and insecurities rose. He sank into darkness, waiting for the blade to pierce his heart and waiting for the hammer to fall. The dark power of the Rakhai surrounded him until he was drowning in it.

  Hours of agony passed as the Rakhai hemmed them in, forcing the horses to run northwest. Eliesmore knew this time they would not escape. This time the Rakhai would not run away. This time the Rakhai would lead them to their doom and bury them.

  A black hill appeared in front of them. It was surrounded by a cluster of trees; their forms were twisted and ancient. Fastshed and company ran for the hill as the Monrages closed in on them, hurling balls
of black light at the churning hooves of the horses. Eliesmore squeezed his eyes shut, giving in to fear. A moment later the rain stopped.

  Eliesmore opened his eyes, gasping for air. He sat upright on Flywinger’s back inside a cave. Outside the rain, wind, and hail continued to rage while balls of black light bounced away from the entrance.

  Idrithar was the first to dismount, casting a blue aura across the cave. He moved toward the entrance, ready to defend the company even though the Rakhai were retreating.

  “We are safe from the Rakhai for the time being,” Zhane called. “They will not enter here. Nourish and rest yourselves.”

  Eliesmore stroked Flywinger’s heaving sides as he dismounted. He saw Dathiem swing down from his mount, pulling Glashar down beside him. She clung to him as he spoke to the horse, whispering words of comfort.

  “Where are we?” Wekin demanded, tossing back his hood and opening his pack.

  “I don’t think I want to know,” Yamier shook his head, eyeing the back of the cave.

  The stone walls sloped downwards, clearly marking the back of the cave.

  “We need to leave.” Glashar’s tone was flat. “It is better to be out there with the Rakhai than here. This is a trap.”

  “We are in the Cave of Disappearance, aren’t we?” Arldrine looked from Zhane to Idrithar, seeking confirmation.

  “Yes.” Zhane hung his head. “Glashar is right. We need to leave. Idrithar?”

  Idrithar turned from the entrance to face them. “It is too late.”

  Eliesmore opened his mouth to protest but sat back stunned when he saw what the blue light revealed. The entrance of the cave was gone. Even though they could hear the storm raging around them, stone covered the exit. “Oh.” A hush drifted through the company.

  Idrithar lifted his hands to reassure them. “Do as Zhane bade you. Sleep. Rest. We have escaped from here before. We shall do so again.”

  Exhaustion set in as Eliesmore lay back, using his pack as a pillow. He exchanged a quick glance with Optimistic, who shrugged before lying down beside him. A female sang in his dreams; her voice was high and full of longing. A deep sadness overtook his heart. She stood alone on a dark plain with long, light hair trailing to her waist. Great wings were folded on her back, and she buried her face in her hands as she lamented. A pillar of green light spread from her body in four directions. North. South. East. West. Twelve figures rose out of darkness, moving to overtake her. Just before they swallowed her in darkness, she lifted her hands; her eyes met Eliesmore’s. I damned myself for you. Save them.