Eliesmore and the Green Stone

by Angela J. Ford

  “Easy for you to say.” Wekin pouted. “You’re the best warrior around. I can't fight.”

  “Even the best warriors have to start somewhere,” Zhane pointed out.

  “And if ever you learn how to fight, this will be the place.” Idrithar started down the stairs.

  “Yes, I heard a group of woísts down below while we slept,” Glashar said.

  “We will follow,” Arldrine said. She held a bow in her hand as she crept behind Idrithar.

  Eliesmore followed after Arldrine with Optimistic behind him.

  The stairs were made of slabs of stone intended for giants with great feet. Eliesmore felt quite small as he stumbled down them. At times, he even had to clamber down on his hands and knees. Even Zhane and Dathiem, the tallest of the group, had their own struggles. The silence across the Holesmoles was dismal. Slight slivers of hope blew out into obscurity as they descended into the underworld, as if they were being voluntary buried.

  Time passed slowly while the call from the Dark One echoed and reechoed in the deep, at times growing louder. Idrithar kept a steady pace, dragging them deeper into the Holesmoles until the stairs came to an end and they found themselves standing on a bridge. Holding up the torches, they could see columns and stairs shooting off in all directions, but it was the sight below that made their blood run cold.

  A glimmer of orange and red light crept up from the depths while shapes moved beneath those lights. They started to march.

  “We certainly can’t sleep here,” Zhane remarked.

  “No, we must run on,” Idrithar said. “The woísts are down there; we must go before they find us.”

  “Run? Do we have to run?” asked Wekin.

  “Of course,” said Idrithar as he took Optimistic’s staff and made a torch out of it. “All you did today was go down some stairs.” Idrithar handed the torch to Ellagine and took off running across the bridge.

  “Ridiculous maze this place is. Shouldn’t we stop now?” Wekin asked some time later as the company came to a set of stairs.

  “No, we shall not be deferred by stairs, though I do not think this is the way.” Idrithar remarked.

  Wekin just sighed and whispered something to Yamier while pushing his light brown, curly hair out of his face. Everyone was staring around uncomfortably, and then suddenly, they heard a sound that made them all jump.

  “Woísts!” Arldrine whispered.

  Below them was torchlight, and they heard the sound of the woísts marching while chanting.

  “They are coming,” Zhane whispered.

  “Which way?” Dathiem demanded.

  “What do you mean by ‘which way’?” Yamier pointed to the stairs.

  “Up the stairs or across to the passageway,” Arldrine explained.

  Eliesmore looked and saw what he hadn’t seen before. If they leaped across a distance of about three or four feet, they would be on another path. It sloped upwards in a northwest direction.

  “Idrithar?” Zhane prompted.

  “We stay here,” Idrithar responded, facing them. “If we go up the path now, the woísts will catch up with us, and we will have to run from them. If we go up the stairs, the path might lengthen our journey. Our goal is to get out of here as quickly as possible. It is best to remain here and wait for the woísts to pass, and then we follow.”

  Zhane nodded. “Let’s move out of sight.”

  The company gathered on the stairs, passing around leaves of mocholeach that remained uneaten. They huddled against each other, wide-eyed with fear, as they watched and listened. Arldrine pulled an arrow from her quiver, resting her bow on her knees, and waited. Optimistic followed her example.

  The torchlight from the woísts grew brighter as the sound of their marching increased. The halls of the Holesmoles became illuminated with light as the army marched up from the depths, chanting as they went. They drowned out the call from the Dark One.

  Trouble. Trouble. Deep black evil.

  Trouble. Trouble. Deep black evil.

  Eliesmore felt his hands shaking, and he balled them into fists as he craned his neck to see what sort of beings the woísts were. They ranged in size, starting from six feet and up. In one fist, they carried gray and brown shields with the insignia of a black horse rearing: the symbol for the Black Steeds. Pointed metal shoes were clad on their feet while their bodies were covered head to toe with armor, hiding their true forms. Helmets covered their heads, but some had taken theirs off, displaying their mud red skin, which was as clear and wet as if they had climbed out of graves.

  The chainmail they wore made clinking sounds as they marched, adding to the odd beat of their chant. In each hand, they carried a spear that doubled as a torch and a drum. With each step, they banged the spears across the stone floor, creating echoes. Each creature carried a collection of weapon, daggers, swords, bows, and arrows. Expressionless faces pointed upwards as they marched toward daylight.

  Eliesmore watched with a sinking heart that was numb with horror. He closed his eyes, unsure of who to look to for compassion and comfort. Doubts and fears rose. He could feel the desire of the creatures. Even in their chant, they demanded blood. The time for the mortals was ending. The time for the immortals was here.

  As the woísts passed, the light grew faint and the noise faded.

  “Idrithar?” Zhane asked in a whisperer.

  Idrithar lifted his torch, lighting it with a blue flame. “It is time to follow.”

  One by one, they leaped three feet across onto the path and ran with the foul stench of the Holesmoles extending behind them.

  62

  Arldrine

  “Something is following us.” Arldrine flung the words into Zhane’s ear as they crept in the rear of the company. Arldrine lifted her bow and twirled an arrow in her fingers as if the motion would protect them from the monstrous creatures that the depths would eventually reveal.

  “Woísts?” Zhane’s hand fell to his sword hilt as he held the flickering torch higher.

  Light spilled only a few feet behind them, displaying nothing.

  Arldrine reached out, her fingers tightening on Zhane’s forearm. “No, not behind, below us.”

  Long ago she’d learn to deal with fear, block it out of her mind, and protect her actions from its wishes. Fear threatened her now, causing the hairs on her neck to stand up straight. Monsters in the daylight appeared less frightful than the demons of darkness. Here in the Holesmoles, buried underground, who knew what tales would turn out be true? Who knew what monsters might arise to answer the call of the Dark One?

  “What are you thinking?” Zhane asked.

  She appreciated his firm voice; he was not afraid. “I think the legends might be true. What if the creatures of the deep, other than woísts, arise? What if there is a beast waiting to devour us?”

  “Come, Arldrine, giving into fears like these is not like you.”

  “It’s the darkness.” She shivered as she crossed her arms, moving a step away from Zhane. “It’s driving me mad.”

  Zhane nodded. “It’s driving us all mad. The Idrains are not themselves either; they are snappish.”

  “They have always been ‘snappish’ as you say. I think there is something deeper happening. Have you noticed how the Rakhai turn away at the last moment? They attack us, yet before they strike the blow that will destroy us, they turn away. Why? They draw more dark power than all of us combined. At first, I thought it was because our destiny is to reach the Constel Heights and dissolve the Green Stone. Now…” She chewed her lower lip in frustration. “I’ve been thinking Idrithar is right, especially after what happened with Wekin. What if the Rakhai want us to succeed? What if they are only attempting to break us, make us fear them, and drive us into madness before we reach our destination? What will they gain if the Green Stone is dissolved?”

  “It is a question I have asked myself over and over.” Zhane sighed, taking his hand from his sword hilt to tuck loose hairs behind his ear. “I have spoken with both Idrithar
and Dathiem regarding this, as you know. I must admit that answers do not come.”

  Arldrine felt a sense of relief because Zhane shared her worries; talking to him made her feel safe, something she dared not acknowledge out loud. “I think they hope to convert him,” she offered. “There are three Changers; they are intent on collecting power and ruling this world. If ultimate power is their goal, Eliesmore will be their target, but only after he dissolves the Green Stone.”

  Zhane frowned. “It would up the stakes. Eliesmore dissolving the Green Stone brings hope to the White Steeds. If…nay…when we succeed, we can rally the people groups of the South World to rise and fight against the Changers.”

  “It is a plan. A plan I think will fail. We are mere mortals. We cannot fight Changers. We cannot kill Changers. If it comes to war, eventually they will defeat us all, unless Eliesmore can defeat them. I do not like where we are going. The farther we go, the more complex this quest becomes.”

  “Stop.” Zhane’s hand rested on her shoulder, spinning her to face him. “Fear and madness are rising. We cannot turn on each other; we cannot lose hope. You know this.”

  His face was set, and his dark eyes were sure. They softened as she looked up at him. He believed. When had she lost faith?

  “Come here.” He extended his arm, pulling her closer to his chest and folding her into an embrace as if he could lend her some of his strength.

  She swallowed hard during the brief seconds he held her. His touch made her feel an unfamiliar longing rise in her bosom. Her breath caught as he squeezed. There was a hint of a door opening, a white crack of light flowing into her heart. A vague swelling started to blossom inside her, and then he let go. He continued down the hall as the firelight flickered and grew as shadows danced against the passageway.

  63

  Eliesmore

  Trouble. Trouble. Deep black evil.

  Trouble. Trouble. Deep black evil.

  The chanting took over, drowning out the call from the Dark One. Eliesmore squeezed the hilt of his sword. His feet involuntarily marched to the beat to the chant, even though he wanted to run far away. The lack of light frayed on the edges of his sanity. His companions felt it, too. He could see it in their tight lips, strained glances, and the way their hands fidgeted with their weapons. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. Days? Weeks? Fear choked him as they followed the woísts through passages, over bridges, and up flights of stairs that made his thighs shake and burn.

  Light flashed ahead and cast the shapes of monsters against the walls. Eliesmore lifted his eyes and froze. A hiss echoed through the caverns.

  Idrithar held up a hand as they walked out of passageway into a vast opening. Bridges curved east and west, intersecting with staircases which shot to the heights before turning and reversing to the depths.

  A line of woísts marched across each bridge, stomped up each staircase, and covering each path. It seemed the company stood in a sea of creatures; hundreds, nay, thousands marched before them. Out of the corner of his eyes, Eliesmore saw Zhane lift his bow with an arrow nocked in it.

  “Pull your cloaks tight about you.” Idrithar’s tone was stern. “Lest the woísts see us and attempt to block our passage. Weapons may not be necessary.”

  “Weapons are always necessary,” Visra countered, a glitter in her eyes.

  “Heads down, and keep your hoods up.” Idrithar ignored Visra’s remark.

  Eliesmore felt his cloak harden into a protective covering as they walked forward again up a narrow incline that forced them to walk single file.

  “Aiii!” A harsh growl drifted up from below. Woísts pointed in the direction of the Green Company, waving their torches.

  Eliesmore ducked as a group of archers lifted their bows and let loose a volley of arrows.

  An arrow slapped into the side of Optimistic’s cloak and bounced off.

  “Aye! We’re invincible,” Wekin shouted.

  “Keep your head down.” Idrithar grunted.

  Optimistic took a deep breath, lifted his bow, and made a whistling sound with his mouth as he let an arrow fly. The arrow ricocheted off a stone and flew wide. Optimistic cursed under his breath.

  “It's a far shot,” Arldrine called from behind them. “Lift your bow higher. Expose your arms.”

  “I’ll fly down and stop them.” Visra dropped her cloak on the path in front of Ellagine.

  “Visra. This is not the time to show off,” Ellagine pleaded, snatching up the cloak and folding it into her pack.

  “I can't hear you,” Visra sniggered. She drew her sword before she dived head first off the path.

  Eliesmore drew in sharp breaths as arrows from Zhane and Arldrine flew. They met their mark, sending woísts shrieking into blackness. A hiss echoed throughout the caverns.

  “Run. Follow me,” Idrithar ordered, dashing forward.

  Optimistic paused, lifted his bow, and nocked an arrow in it. He releasing it and stepped back, narrowing his eyes as the fatal arrow flew. He was rewarded with a shriek as a creature fell.

  “Yamier, next time let’s ask for bows,” Wekin complained. His lips were turned down in jealousy.

  Arrows flew toward them faster than the Green Company could return them. The path grew even narrower, ending in a bridge. “Lead, Zhane.” Idrithar pulled away at the last moment.

  “But…” Zhane started to protest.

  “Go, follow the woísts,” Idrithar ordered.

  As the company slid past him, Idrithar lifted a hand. Blue light glowed as his mouth moved as he whispered words. He closed his eyes, letting the undercurrent of power surge before he released it. Arrows flew toward the Green Company as Idrithar’s power unfurled, disintegrating the arrows in mid-flight.

  Eliesmore would have cheered if he had managed to find his voice. Instead, he saw a group of woísts in front of Zhane. The creatures turned at the noise and drew their swords, running back to meet the Green Company and take part in the battle.

  Zhane dropped his bow. “Visra,” he shouted. “We need you up here. Now. Eliesmore and Optimistic, stay back.”

  “Archers at the ready,” Arldrine ordered.

  “Aim for the ones in the back,” Zhane shouted as he ran forward, drawing his sword.

  The woísts dashed toward Zhane, although the narrowness of the bridge forced them to go one at a time. The first one lifted its battleax, but Zhane was faster. He spun his sword into the side of a woíst, knocking it off balance. It teetered on the edge of the bridge before falling, but Zhane had already moved on to the next one. He threw a punch as the woíst lifted a shield to deflect the blow. Zhane drove his sword into the woíst’s side. “Aim for the chinks in their armor,” he shouted back.

  Visra alighted on the edge of the bridge, laughing with glee as she lifted her sword. “Énvictosry!” she called—slicing, cutting, maiming, wounding, and moving almost faster than Zhane.

  Eliesmore watched in horror as the two of them mowed down the woísts like wheat during a harvest. They cleared the bridge in a matter of minutes.

  Yamier and Wekin dashed past Eliesmore and Optimistic with their swords in hand.

  “Watch for the stairs,” Zhane called as he tore up them.

  Woísts awaited him at the top, shooting arrows down on his covered head.

  “My turn.” Visra flew up, zipping between arrows as she dived into the melee; she scattered woísts left and right.

  Zhane soon joined her as they cleared a path.

  Optimistic gave a low whistle. “Ready, Eliesmore?”

  Eliesmore drew his sword, spurred onwards by the hissing that grew louder.

  Idrithar and Ellagine had turned to face whatever was behind him. “Ilidifwthien reihturfidli,” cried Ellagine, and her sword came to her, shining pale green.

  Idrithar and Ellagine had not crossed the bridge. They stood side by side, allowing power to generate through their hands into their swords. A trope of woísts marched toward them, and when they caught sight of them, began to r
un. The woísts went down before they could lift their weapons.

  Eliesmore stood in the wide stairs, fighting the woísts. He was thankful for the skills Zhane had taught him. The river of woísts continued to flow down; the ones Zhane and Visra missed lept to face Eliesmore’s sword and Optimistic’s bow. Yamier and Wekin stood just above Eliesmore; their faces were set in determination.

  “One for the White Steeds!” Eliesmore heard Wekin celebrating after he pushed a woíst off the stairs.

  “Two for the White Steeds.” Yamier grunted as two woísts fell.

  “Three,” called Glashar as she shot arrows from where she stood in the middle of the bridge. She was shooting at the woísts Idrithar and Ellagine were fighting. “Woísts up above!” she warned them.

  Eliesmore glanced up in the midst of fighting and saw woísts marching high above them. A shield smacked into Eliesmore’s side, pushing him toward the edge. He brought his sword up in retaliation, driving it into the woíst in front of him. It fell backward with its hands outstretched, taking three others with it. “Four for the White Steeds,” Eliesmore rejoiced.

  A cry forced him to turn. Wekin had lost his footing and was sliding toward the edge of the stairs. A woíst was standing over him with a sword. Eliesmore leaped toward Wekin, pushing and fighting woísts out of his way. “Nehíthermal!” he shouted.

  The woíst saw Eliesmore coming and turned to face him, throwing a dagger toward Eliesmore’s face. Eliesmore leaped to one side as the blade slid past him, the edges catching his cheek. A warm dribble of blood poured out from the scratch. Ignoring it, Eliesmore continued toward Wekin. As Eliesmore drew closer, the woíst kicked out a foot, punching Eliesmore in the gut. Eliesmore gasped and gripped his waist with one hand, doubling over from the pain. Shapes blurred before his eyes as he attempted to catch his breath. As he lifted his head, one of Optimistic’s arrows buried itself in the woíst head. It shrieked, falling off the stairs. Eliesmore stumbled, grabbing Wekin’s arm. “Are you okay?”