“She smells?” the Ezinck demanded, squeezing Arldrine’s arm.
The Tider turned back while the other two ascended the slope. He barred his teeth, a deep growl rolling out of his chest. “She has a mate. She smells like him.” His dark eyes bored into Arldrine’s, and she got the distinct feeling something evil lurked within him. “He is still alive, after all these years.” He sneered at Arldrine and as he turned his shadow caught the light, and she saw a beast form, snarling, menacing. She stepped backward as if pushed as the Therian disappeared.
A moment of silence passed. The long-haired Ezinck spun on Arldrine, holding up a knife. Turning she lifted Arldrine’s bound hands and cut them. “You are free to go,” her dark eyes bored into Arldrine’s. “If we have no offering, the Therian will attack and take what they want.”
The short-haired Ezinck looked Arldrine up and down, her expression torn between anger and newfound respect. “You have a mate? One of the Therian?”
“No,” Arldrine clarified, rubbing her sore wrists. “I knew two Tiders who came from here. They escaped from the Therian.”
The long-haired Ezinck crossed her arms. “You are free, why don’t you run?”
Arldrine studied them before lifting her eyes to the Green Light. “Because it’s not a time to run anymore. I came to help you. Please, let me help you.”
The Ezincks regarded Arldrine, arms crossed. The short-haired one made a fist and thumped her heart twice. “I am Róta. I have an idea.”
41
Eliesmore
A cloudless azure sky stretched over the blue-green waves of the Jaded Sea. Eliesmore stood on a stone, watching it, while Lythe brushed up against his legs, purring. It was silent. The waves shimmered in the sea but declined to splash up on the shore. Skip stood knee deep in the water, holding her hands out, palms down. Her head was bowed, eyes closed. Eliesmore watched the waters swirl around her as if they were attracted to her, as if they’d rather splash up against her legs than touch the western lands again.
Bruthen stood further down the shore to the south, arms crossed, shoulders hunched, staring inland. His body shook. Eliesmore knew he was gathering the courage to walk further south, to see what had become of his village. Optimistic was beside him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.
An urgency bolted through Eliesmore. It was taking too long; they needed to get to Daygone.
Optimistic trudged back toward Eliesmore, shaking his head. “We should not push them to find the village; they’ve experienced too much trauma. Aside from what they have told us, we don’t know what else happened to them.”
Eliesmore crossed his arms, frowning. The urgent call tightened around his chest, words rushing through his mind. Go to Daygone. Hurry. Hurry. Time is running out. Go to Daygone. Go. “We have to find a way to cross the sea. What do you suggest?”
Optimistic glanced toward Skip who stood in the water. She turned at that moment, her gaze meeting Optimistic’s. A genuine smile lit up her face, and she gave a shy wave.
“We don’t know if the village is still there or if it has burned to the ground,” Optimistic shrugged. “We don’t know if it lies north or south of here. I say we pick a direction and follow the coast until we find something. During the past ten years, Idrithar and Zhane traveled between east and west; they crossed the sea many times. It stands to reason there is a hidden storehouse we must find.”
“Aye,” Eliesmore affirmed, the urgency loosened its grip on him. “You are right Optimistic. Let’s walk south.”
Skip walked out of the Jaded Sea, picking up the green cloak she’d dropped by the waters. She walked toward Eliesmore and Optimistic, a calm determination on her face. “I know where we can find a vessel.”
The waters lapped around them like eager children, reaching for a sweet treat, eager for the opportunity to taste and devour. Bruthen stood at the helm on a platform that rose above the other levels while Skip danced in the middle of the ship, tugging on the rope, pulling down the sails. Optimistic and Eliesmore stood back, staring in awe as the siblings worked the ship, speaking in an odd tongue as they moved around it.
“They must be children of the sea,” Optimistic whispered to Eliesmore.
“What does that mean? Who are children of the sea?” Eliesmore whispered back.
Optimistic shrugged. “I made it up. I’ve never seen them so… happy and free.”
The ship groaned as it moved. Flywinger promptly sat down, curling his long legs under him as he neighed in displeasure.
Lythe slumbered on the side of the ship while Eliesmore made his way across the decks, leaning over the railing. True to her word, Skip had led them down the shore to a storehouse where they discovered the ship as well as food and water for their journey. Eliesmore shrugged off the guilt of stealing the ship, and they spent the remainder of daylight getting ready to sail. Sailing was more hands-on and time-consuming than Eliesmore had imagined although Skip and Bruthen handled it well. They examined the ship from bow to stern, ensuring it was seaworthy before calling a series of commands to each other as they yanked on the ropes. Eliesmore and Optimistic stood out of the way until, at last, they set off from shore. A light wind kept them moving, and Eliesmore peered over, watching the waves which appeared like jewels in the glow of the twin lights in the sky.
Night deepened as they sailed, and somewhere around midnight, Eliesmore saw her. She hurled out of the west, arms outstretched as her winds blew into the white canvas of the sails. The sails billowed out as if they would burst and the ship picked up speed, dipping and bucking in the waves like a wild horse. Eliesmore watched her winds, and at times he believed he saw her long dark hair, streaming out behind her, while her feet kicked the air, moving the ship onwards.
His heart swelled as the cold winds rushed over him and seafoam splashed up on deck. Skip and Bruthen murmured quiet words of joy as they leaned over the helm, watching the waves, ensuring the ship would continue its eastward passage. Optimistic stood beside Eliesmore, his back to the water, his eyes turned upward as he gazed at the stars. Words flowed like a whispered prayer from between his lips as he sang of the beauty of the sea, and the glory of the stars. Out there in the dark Eliesmore felt something akin to the joy he knew when dancing with the creatures of the wood. It leaped and settled in his heart, leaving him with a strange longing. The past and future drifted away until there was only the present, and that glorious night, observing the rituals of the world on their journey homeward.
42
Ellagine
“Did you try to have his child?” Ellagine glanced at Glashar as the Xctas soared above the Jaded Sea.
Glashar glared at her, raising her eyebrows. “It is impossible, and forbidden, you know this. Why should you ask such a terrible question? Mermis are the only immortals who seek to seduce mortals into giving them children.”
Ellagine bit her tongue, keeping back the flutter of frustration she felt at Glashar’s jib. “I meant no harm by inquiring. It is customary to have a child to remember those you lost. At least, a custom of the mortals. Do not bring the Mermis into this. Ever since the days of the Five Warriors, their bloodline has fallen. I only asked if you tried.”
“I am not like you,” Glashar lifted her chin, although her lips trembled. “Idrains cannot have children. My kind are not born.”
“Nor were the Mermis, not until Indonesia.”
“I don’t care,” a tear crept down Glashar’s cheek. “I don’t care about the Mermis, the Iaen, the Green Stone or anything in this world. I advised you not to interfere with the mortals and you did. You begged me to bring back Eliesmore, and I did. There is only one thing I care about now, and that is getting him back. Ellagine, I need you to take me to the Truth Tellers.”
Ellagine froze unable to keep the despair out of her face. Her green glow shimmered as she shifted in discomfort. The dreaded request had come. “Surely you care Glashar,” she deflected. “The world has just begun to recover from the rule of the Dark Three; surely you wil
l help ensure the White Steeds regain a definite victory.”
“No,” Glashar snapped, tears filled her voice. “I am done with my part in this world. I regret I ever became involved. You don’t know what it's like to have everything taken from you. You don’t know what it's like to have your heart broken. The only one who can fix this is him.”
Ellagine noted how Glashar could not bring herself to say his name. “I am sorry…” Ellagine began.
“No,” Glashar cut her off. “Do not ask me for forgiveness. Take me to the Truth Tellers. Let me seek knowledge from them and I will leave you in peace. You have brought this curse on us by meddling with the mortals.”
“You speak out of anger and grief,” Ellagine interrupted, a flash of anger exploding in her head. “Do not say something you will regret.”
Glashar covered her mouth with her hand and bent over, sobs shaking her body. She sat still for a few moments as Ellagine watched, a cold fear stealing over her heart.
“I did not mean it,” Glashar lifted her face, closing her eyes, letting the wind whisk her tears away. “But I am done. I am no longer one of the Green Company. I am no longer an Iaen. I am just myself, and I want the Tider I love. I don’t need titles and authority and power, not any longer. Just him. You don’t know what it's like to lose the one you love.”
Ellagine turned away from Glashar and closed her mouth. Her eyes fell to the waves of the sea beneath them, and her eyes dared to drift north. She wondered if she would lose Eliesmore after he went to Daygone after he discovered the secret. When he learned the truth, he would hate her. The ugliness rose, a passionate fear she’d kept down, the darkness that pushed on the edges of her vision like a spreading poison, determined to end all things. She could see no way around it, the future was set and even if she wanted to, she could not change it. Placing a hand on her heart, she watched her green glow ebb and fade. Perhaps she had already lost him.
43
Sarhorr
Year 915. (28 years ago.) Daygone.
Sarhorr waited as his brother and sister disappeared through the portals, returning to the west. His arm ached after swearing the blood oath, yet he waited. Only when he was sure it was safe did he turn to his stone angels, guarding his keep while he was away.
“Shalidir.” He called, clenching his fists. “Come to me.”
She morphed out of her stone hiding place, lifting her hands from her face and folding her wings on her back.
“You came back,” she whispered, reaching out a hand to caress his cheek.
He slapped her hand away and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Our daughter is dead.”
“I know,” she retorted. “And I know where the Green Stone is.”
He felt every muscle in his body grow still. At times he suspected she knew more than she let on, yet he knew it was imperative she come to trust him. Bullying her or pinning her down with unusual cruelty would not help him. Ultimately, she craved his attention. It was the reason why she’d returned, the reason she stayed. At times he saw the lust rise up in her eyes. She desired him, perhaps even more so now that she knew who he was, what he was. He waited for her to continue, holding back his emotions and facial expressions.
She took a deep breath, confident he would allow her to explain why she’d withheld the most pertinent information from him for those long years.
“My mother found the Green Stone when she first came to the South World. When I was older my father told me tales of the Five Warriors, and the great enemy of all mortals and immortals, the Changers.” She held up a hand as if to pause Sarhorr’s objections, although there were none. “My parents could see the future. They told me I would play a part in saving the Four Worlds from the Changers, and I would use the power of the Green Stone to do so. When I met you, over a hundred years ago, I had the Green Stone. It was protected, hidden with glamour so no one would see or recognize it. I went to the place where it would be dissolved. Only, when I reached it, a name came to mind, and I knew. Only a mortal can dissolve the Green Stone. The power of creation does not belong with immortals.”
He kept his voice low, withholding his fury. “You had the Green Stone the entire time we were together? Until I sent you away?” He dropped his eyes, casting around for answers. “The journal…” he lifted a finger. “You kept it in the journal.”
“Yes, when I left I gave the stone to a family of Crons, Treasure Hunters, close to the western mountains, where the Therian dwell. A group of Tiders and Crons live in a colony there. It wasn’t until after our daughter was born that I learned about ‘Song.’” She narrowed her eyes at him. “The One is coming. He will take up the Jeweled Sword. He will dissolve the Green Stone. There is nothing we can do about him. The prophecy will come true; you saw with your own two eyes what happened to our daughter.”
“Shalidir,” he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head. “Why did you withhold this knowledge from me? You know our joint desire. Don’t you see? We don’t need the Green Stone; we need the power that comes from it. When the One comes, he will release the power of the Green Stone. He must trust us, and it is only when we gain his trust that he will give us the power of creation. We can start afresh. We can release a new breed on this world that will be stronger than both you and I.”
“Why are you being kind to me? You want something.” Shalidir pulled away, studying his unreadable face.
“You can see bits of the future,” he cupped her face in his hands. “Tell me, what do you see?”
“Regarding?”
“Regarding the One, tell me everything.”
Shalidir closed her eyes, lifting her pink lips to taste the omens in the air. He brushed her light hair away from her forehead, tempted by the fine lines of her neck. Occasionally he wished her back into her stone hiding place, where he would not be tempted by her powers. At times he wanted to sink his teeth into her skin, find her heart, and eat it whole. A ripple of pleasure passed through his lower body, and he felt his muscles twitch. When he had rung every drop of power from her mind, he would use her body until she screamed for him. Her deception and mistrust had almost cost him his future, but this time he could filter her truths and lies. This time she would leave nothing out.
He held her as she spoke, almost in a trance, as if her spirit drifted into the future and watched the events of what was to come. His eyes danced with each word she spoke, confirming his inner desires. She went limp in his arms when she finished, exhausted from her metaphysical journey. He ran his hand across her neck, down her sternum to her navel. His fingers returned to the top of her dress and he pulled, ripping the silk down the seams. “My brother and sister are the only ones who can stop us now. We need a decoy, an elite force to help us achieve our destiny.”
“Us,” she lifted her head to look him in the eye. “We are still allies?”
“Only if you give me another child.”
Her eyes flashed. “Why would I? Look what you did to the last one?”
“You said yourself; the One shall have ten companions to travel with him. We need eleven to go after them. As you once said, blood of our blood will not betray us.”
“You are going too far; I cannot bare you eleven children. In the tradition of my people, we have one or two children, no more. It is impossible.”
“Shalidir,” he barred his teeth at her. “You forget who I am, you forget how powerful I am. Bare me a child.”
She lifted one arm, circling his neck, pulling his face toward her. “You know I will do anything for you.”
44
Ellagine
Ellagine, Glashar, and Visra moved through the lush woodlands of Shimla. There was a delicate brightness in the air, a tentative expectation for a future for the Iaens. The others would return, Ellagine was sure of it. Yet she felt tears frozen behind her eyes as she led them to the thick of the forest. Her silken dress hugged tightly to her body as she walked as if her clothes would wind around her neck until they cut off her breath. She recognized it as her own
fear; she did not want to take Glashar to the Truth Tellers.
She attempted to rationalize her fears. It wasn’t simply the fact that the Truth Tellers would reveal knowledge that should remain hidden. It wasn’t the fact that they would demand a price which Glashar would have to pay. She was frightened of their knowledge of the future. If they choose to confront her with their knowledge, she would be forced to confess. The future had to be set in stone. There was a vague cloud of obscurity over the future, a chain of events only the Truth Tellers could reveal and ultimately change. Stories of Pharengon of the Jeweled Sword and his companions danced through her mind, reminding her of the chant the Truth Tellers spread throughout the world. While the Truth Tellers spoke nothing more than warnings, their words inspired action, and those actions changed the future.
As she led the way through the paths of the forest, the wood opened before her, bowing to her royal blood. To force the fear from her mind, she thought of her mother. She could smell the sweet hypnotic flavor of vanilla in the air, reminding her of when she was a child. Her mother would take her through the secret trails of the forest of Shimla. They would pull honeysuckle from the trailing vines, sucking the sweet nectar as they explored. Those were lonely days, yet happy days, before she was old enough to join the song and dance of the wood. Back then, her mother would rock her to sleep each night, singing the old lullaby. The strong words thrummed through her consciousness.
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword Page 17
