Tap. Scratch. Tap. Tap. Scratch. Eliesmore opened his eyes. The scratching sound continued as he stood, shrugging his pack onto his back. “Where are the horses?” His voice came out hoarse with fear.
“They have been taken.” Zhane faced the back of the cave with an arrow in his bow. “There is trouble.”
Arldrine moved to Yamier and Wekin, shaking them awake. “Get your weapons; the cave is shifting.”
Optimistic moved beside Eliesmore; he turned his head, hoping to catch sight of Ellagine. Before he was able to see her, the back wall of the cave opened. Eliesmore did not see how it happened. One moment there was stone; the next, it was gone, revealing Fastshed and company. They reared up, screaming in terror, and dashed out toward the Green Company, almost running them over in a panic. Eliesmore threw himself against the wall to avoid being hit by the hooves. As he did, he saw something else move in the darkness. A boulder uncurled itself and rose; it was ten feet tall. Round arms and legs sprang up, gyrating against the body of the creature. On top, it had a bald head with two dark openings for eyes, gaping sockets, and a jagged mouth that was frozen half open and half closed.
“Ìal iál, bálangers!” Arldrine cried, springing to one side and fitting an arrow into her bow.
“Bálangers, we can do nothing. Run!” Idrithar shouted.
“Which way?” cried Yamier.
A second bálanger uncurled itself and moved toward the company. A third picked up a rock and threw it. It cracked and smashed as it rolled into the midst of the Green Company, effectively splitting them in half.
“Run!” shouted Ellagine.
“To the back! To the back!” Dathiem called.
“Lead Eliesmore!” Idrithar commanded.
Eliesmore ran, his heart thudding within him. He heard the cries of the horses, the shouts of his friends, and the noise of the stone bálangers pounding throughout the cave floor. Shaking off his fears, he drew his sword. A fourth bálanger leaped in front of him, and Eliesmore dived, rolling on the ground and scraping his legs on stones. The cave floor tipped downward as he tried, without success, to catch his footing. His back slammed into an object, knocking the wind out of him. He coughed as the pain jarred through his body, and he struggled upward with a hand on his lower back. He stepped back as the object rose before him. It was a tree; its trunk was three times the size of that of an ordinary tree. It stood eight feet high and stopped with its branches melting into the stone ceiling. Words had been carved in the Valikai Dialect across the tree. As he read them, Eliesmore knew he was standing in front of the door to the Holesmoles.
58
Sarhorr
Year 915 (28 years ago). Daygone.
He walked out of the Eastern World and through the portal into Daygone. He almost jumped when he saw his brother and sister waiting for him. They stood in the center of his self-created throne room in front of the circular altar. A basin was molded above it; it was a tool he used to catch the blood from his victims.
“She is dead?” his sister asked.
He clasped his hands in front of him and nodded. He’d thought there would be more time between the death of Magdela the Monrage and his return to the South World. He had not expected his brother and sister to be waiting on his doorstep.
“Good.” His sister walked toward him. The clank of her pitchfork rang ominously on the stone. “You have met our requests, and I admit that I am impressed with your good behavior.” She laughed before walking back to the altar. “It is time for us to rise. All three of us.”
He approached the altar; he was careful to display his deference toward her rule and judgment. He used his brother’s silence as an example.
“The time is coming when the One will rise. The One they say will find the Jeweled Sword and dissolve the Green Stone. He will bring an army to destroy everything we have done and prevent us from ruling the Four Worlds.”
He listened to her, knowing she only meant for herself to rule. He and his brother were simply pawns in her hands; she’d use their powers as she desired.
“We must prevent the One from completing his quest. He…” She pointed to their brother. “Will guard the fountain in the Constel Heights with an army of Crons to defend against the One and his army. I will go to the southern countries in the west to ensure they remain loyal to us. Fear will be our ally. And you…” She pointed her pitchfork at him. “You will remain here. No more children. No more mixing your blood with the mortals and immortals; it is an abomination.”
He bowed his head in acceptance.
“Since you are fond of armies and transformations, you shall wake the sleeping dead.”
He stared at her.
“They are buried deep underground in the Holesmoles, slumbering and waiting for the moment when they are called by their Lord and Master. When you hear word of the One, you shall call forth our army, and they shall destroy all who stand in our way.”
“I understand. If I may…” He paused, waiting for her acknowledgment. “I would be honored to create a specialized force to hunt down the One.”
“You may.” It sounded like an order. “But you must never set foot outside of the Eastern Hill Countries again.”
“Understood.”
She dropped her pitchfork, clasping her hands together. She pulled a curved blade from her robes and held out her wrists. “Let us swear the blood oath.”
He held out his arm, listening to the words as they began to chant. She sliced their wrists open, and they let the blood flow into the basin. They repeated the words and drank, one after the other. When his turn came, he drained the black blood from the basin. Soon they would be dead, and he would be the only Changer left to rule the Four Worlds.
59
Eliesmore
Open the door upon your doom.
Enter then into the gloom.
Three times must you knock.
Halt the creatures made of rock.
Eliesmore cringed. Making a fist, he lifted his hand and pounded once. Tree bark scraped his knuckles as he glanced behind. Yamier and Wekin ran toward him. Their eyes were wide in fear; the swords in their hands would do little good against the bálangers. He pounded a second time. Blue and green sparks blasted across one creature’s head, but it moved forward unaffected. He pounded a third time.
The doors to the Holesmoles shuddered and opened. Eliesmore took a step back as a foul odor permeated the air. He could hear the bálangers coming, throwing rocks as he ran forward with the Green Company at his heels.
“Shut the door! Shut the door!” Idrithar shouted as boulders crashed around them.
A rubble of dust clouded Eliesmore’s vision as he ran. He heard banging, shouts, and more banging around him. A door slammed, shaking the ground. The outline of the door disappeared, and the rocks shuddered, shutting out the bálangers. There was silence for mere moments before a howl went up and something banged into the door on the other side. The Rakhai were on the other side of the door. Eliesmore wasn’t sure whether they were attempting to enter or lock the company inside. “Run!” he shouted and led them onward into the Holesmoles.
When their first fear had subsided and they had run far enough to get away from the falling rocks, the company huddled together. “Well.” Arldrine sighed. “Here we are, trapped in the Holesmoles.”
“We disappeared, and we didn’t even sleep. I mean, we kept watch,” Wekin despaired.
“Bálangers make you disappear.” Glashar stared straight ahead as if in a trance. She sniffed the air and shivered.
“At least we are together and alive.” Optimistic’s words came out muffled in the darkness. “There is hope as long as we are alive.”
“We make torches before moving onward,” Idrithar suggested.
Eliesmore made his way to Ellagine as Idrithar, Zhane, and Dathiem created light. The stone floor was riddled with curved skeletons. He reached out a hand as Ellagine stiffened. Her eyes were dark when they met his. “It has come to this,” she whispered.
&
nbsp; “Ellagine, who was Shalidir?” He held up the amulet as it began to glow, a light in the darkness as Idrithar led the way toward a staircase.
“Why do you ask?”
He could detect hints of unfriendliness in her voice.
“I think I dreamed about her,” he confessed. “You said she was the Green Person who build the Idrain Fountain where the Green Stone will be dissolved. Green People are immortal. What happened to her? Why didn’t she save the world?”
Ellagine adverted her eyes, checking to see who was directly behind them before she answered. “Eliesmore, it does not matter what happened to her. She chose her own path and stuck to her decisions, regardless of what grief or joy it brought her. The question you should ask yourself is: why? Why are you doing this? You have a choice to make, which you can only make if you know why. Asking what others did in the past will not help you.”
Eliesmore frowned. “What do you mean? I am doing this because of ‘Song’. I am the One. No other choice or path lies before me. I don’t understand. Why me? I am not skilled with the blade; I don’t understand the lore of the world. At every turn, our passage is blocked. I mean, look where we are now! Trapped in the mines! How are we to win if we are chased and deterred at every step?”
Ellagine crossed her arms. “That is not true, Eliesmore. If you truly did not want to be the One, there is nothing we could do to force you. You could let the world fall into darkness, but you are fighting back, which means you have a cause and a reason. You must find out why you are fighting if you are to stay true to yourself. Where we are going, there is no turning back. We will go into the heart of darkness, where powers greater than I can imagine wage war. I have watched you in the hope that you will rise, take the lead, and fulfill your potential. You can only do so if you believe in yourself.
“For too long people have blamed their decisions on circumstance. They blame people for the way the world is. They blame those in a position of power for making them weak, for taking away their rights, and for banishing people out of their land. People will always complain, judge, and spin tales, refusing to take responsibility for their actions. The mortals blame the immortals for the fate of the world. The immortals blame the mortals for falling from grace. People refuse to take responsibility for their actions. You must remember, Eliesmore: no one is forcing you to be the One. People choose what they will live and die for. You have to take responsibility for your own actions. You are the master of your fate. You are in charge of your destiny. Words are what drive you to make decisions. However, words can do nothing but sway you.
“There may be dominance in words, yet there is more power in action. Action is what changes the world. Action is what makes things happen. Use your words to create action, and stop blaming your circumstances, your past, the way you grew up, the repetitions of history, the mortals, and the immortals for your life. Your fate. Words have inspired you to act. Now take your actions, make them your own, drop the blame, and go out and do what you know in your heart you were meant to do. Because if you don’t act and if you pout and feel sorry for yourself, the world will fall and fade, and the blame will land on your head.
“You are not your past. You are not your fears. You are not your worries. The only person you are is who you believe you are. I cannot make you strong enough or determined enough to be the One. You have to decide that on your own. Make your choice. Will you sink in disillusion or will you rise?”
Eliesmore stared at her; he was surprised at the fire in her words. Her eyes glinted darkly. He felt a cry in his heart. A sob. “Someone once told me not to trust the immortals,” he admitted.
Ellagine rolled her shoulders back. “Whoever said those words was right, Eliesmore, although you cannot always trust the words of someone else. You must find the truth for yourself, not because of what someone else said or because of fear. Here in the Holesmoles, it may seem darkness surrounds us, but your light is inside you. When you know why you are doing this, you will become unstoppable. I tell you this because I will not always be with you. There will be times when you walk alone, and you will hear truths and lies to persuade your opinion either way. You can choose to walk in the light or to sink like Magdela the Monrage. We all have a choice.”
A voice interrupted their conversation. Eliesmore breathed in relief, perturbed by Ellagine’s words. He would have to ponder what she told him, although it seemed unkind for her to tell him this now. As the voice repeated itself he banged into Optimistic, who had frozen in front of him. None of his companions were speaking; they stood like statues. “Harbfigula, owml fogethesta moragah.”
The chant from Daygone was within the Holesmoles, resounding off the stone and echoing into the deep. The Dark One was calling all those underground to rise and to march toward daylight. As he heard it, Eliesmore felt his feet move of their own accord. He was swayed, marching forward with the Green Company and seeking daylight.
Idrithar faced them; the light from his torch showing a smile on his face, although his eyes were weary. “This is a spot of good fortune,” he told them. “Although no one goes to the Holesmoles and leaves alive, the Dark One is calling his servants forth. If we follow, we will reach the outside lands once again.”
Eliesmore felt Optimistic squeeze his shoulder. Yamier and Wekin slapped their palms together. Glashar stepped forward, shaking her head. “Who is the Dark One calling?”
“There can only be one explanation.” Arldrine pulled an arrow from her quiver. “Creatures from the underworld. Woísts.”
60
Glashar
“I’ll take first watch,” Glashar called as the company slowed to a stop. It was hard to tell how far they had come after winding their way through small passages and great halls stretching as tall as fifteen feet. Others disappeared out of reach in the blackness, leaving her shaking as she gazed upward into nothingness.
“Wake me when you’re done,” Zhane called, casting his hood over his face. He put a hand on his sword hilt.
They settled in a corner near a staircase, and Glashar crept toward the top stair, staring down and taking deep breaths to calm the rising panic. It was dark. Silent. The foul stench of the underground labyrinth continued to overwhelm her senses, and the fright of being buried alive buzzed in a tangle of fear around her. Glashar watched; her golden glow was hidden within herself in the darkness. She had not known a terror like what she felt now. She knew about life above ground. She knew the fears and failures people held there. But this? This was too much. She was not made to live underground away from sunlight, moonlight, the eternal whispers of the wild, and the song and dance of the immortal creatures. When the company had set foot in the west, the sea separating her from her homeland made her ache. Ellagine and Visra felt it, too. That was likely the reason why Visra had attacked her. The panic was rising; she was too far away from the sacred land. She would die out in the wild lands as an immortal separated from the fountain of immortality.
She had to keep hoping, yet in the dark underground, she found it easy to think of death and to think of risking everything for the One. After all, it was his life that mattered most. True, he needed them, yet she would rather have fled than have her heart thud in panic. She was too near the contaminated breath of the underworld: the tang of cold stone, dirt, death, and defilement.
A hand touched her shoulder, and she shuddered, even at its warm comfort. A lanky body slid down next to hers, and she felt the panic melt away. “Dathiem,” she breathed, reaching for him.
He pulled her into his arms, allowing her to rest her head on his chest with her cheek pressed against his shirt. He pulled his cloak around her as she trembled. “Glashar, are you okay?”
“No. Not as long as we are in here, but you are a comfort. I know we have to be strong and hope. It is the only way.”
She felt his anger ripple through him as he traded despair for determination. “This was not how it was meant to be,” he whispered.
“What else are we to do? The world is again
st us. We have to take what is given and make the best of it…” Her voice melted away into a sob.
He let go, cupping her face in his hand. The pads of his thumbs wiped away her tears. She could make out the lines of his face; he was exhausted from traveling. She could see the angles of his bones and his fine dark eyes as they gazed into hers, imparting comfort and strength. His feelings for her were plain to read. She closed her eyes, lifted her mouth to his, and waited for the sensation that would whisk her away and take her back to the field where they made love above the waterfall.
61
Eliesmore
Zhane and Yamier created a small fire, making torches. Dathiem followed their example, and the three of them quickly extinguished the fire.
“Time to descend.” Idrithar peered over the edge of the stairs, holding his torch over it.
“Oh, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to,” whispered Wekin as he hid behind Zhane.
“No, none of us want to go, but we have to. There is no other way,” Zhane comforted. “Besides, we have our weapons, and I’ll be behind you.”
Eliesmore and the Green Stone Page 31
