The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  As the days passed, the five drifted further into the woods, moving at a slow pace. The thick underbrush held them up in places, and Legone insisted on looking for the Eya River. Food was scarce, and when they did find game it was scrawny and tasted tough. “We are going to starve in these parts if we don’t find food,” Marklus complained.

  “We need something with substance,” Alaireia added.

  “I have a thought,” Legone offered. He turned off the thin brown trail they had been following and plunged into the woods.

  “Wait!” Marklus cried after him. “I hear water!”

  “I smell it, this way,” Starman announced, taking the lead.

  Legone turned back reluctantly. “Good, water is exactly what we need.”

  They picked up the pace a bit as they made their way through the wood. It warmed up the further they progressed. Now the sunlight cast a lighted haze over the woods and the large leaves it filtered through. The trees became more densely mapped together, their trunks slimmer, their leaves broader, and rotten fruit fell from their branches. The scent of fresh water and overripe fruit filled their nostrils. Soon, they all could hear running water and the cooing of birds of the air, swooping down to drink their fill.

  “It’s beautiful here!” Marklus breathed from ahead. He held onto a tree trunk as he looked down. Below him, a hill dipped away, sliding gently into the river below which trickled merrily over mossy rocks and brown stone, flowing westward. It widened as it curved around a bend, out of view. Small brown trees and yellow-green bushes shot up from the bank, offering shelter to any who might choose to make their home there.

  Legone limped up to join Marklus on the overlook. “It was much more glorious back then,” he remarked. “Follow me.” He moved into the trees with a sense of purpose.

  Marklus glanced back at Crinte, who nodded. “He knows this place.”

  As they followed Legone through the tangled bramble of woods, they could hear an eerie calling through the air. It sounded like an excited scream, echoing throughout the woods, higher and further away.

  “What is that?” Starman asked.

  “Stay quiet,” Legone’s voice returned from ahead.

  They wandered deeper in, tripping over roots and snagging their clothes in brambles. The river followed, chirping away as its banks skirted in and out of view. The humidity in the air increased, growing thick and syrupy. A sweetness danced heavy on their eyelids. Legone pulled his long braid of dark hair over his shoulder as they reached a clearing. He looked around warily before stepping out into what appeared to be a garden. Black and white bugs the size of their fingers flew, buzzing around their heads. Dark ivy and vines grew close to the trees surrounding them, but out in full sunlight, lapping the waters from the river, grew stalks of tall light green plants. They rose five feet into the air and had blossomed, opening their round white faces into the sunlight. Broad leaves an inch thick sprouted from their stems, reaching out to allow sunlight to filter through them.

  “It’s still here,” Legone said in awed wonder. “The garden, just as it once was.”

  Crinte stepped out, joining him. “What are these plants?”

  “They are called mocholeach,” Legone replied. He stepped forward into the intense sunlight, reaching out a hand to touch the plant. He broke a piece off a leaf to taste it. “The creatures of the wood farmed this plant. It keeps for a long time yet it is filling and sustaining. We should take as much as we can carry.”

  Marklus walked forward, carrying the makeshift packs they had made out of leaves, passing one to each of them. They moved into the rows of plants, pulling the broad leaves and tasting them as they went.

  “Leave the blossoms,” Legone called. “They are inedible.”

  “This is strangely delicious,” Starman remarked, slowly chewing a leaf. “I can’t say what it tastes like though.”

  “Sunlight,” Alaireia replied. “It tastes like the sun, warm and energizing.”

  Crinte froze where he stood, suddenly feeling cold. Something was watching them. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from the leaf he was holding and crouched low. The others were on different rows, chatting away about nothing of importance. He looked back the way they had come but the leaves overhung the forest, blocking his view. Yet he could sense the malicious presence. Dropping his makeshift pack, he reached for his sword and whispered, “Marklus!”

  Marklus’ keen ears picked up Crinte’s voice straightway, but even as he blocked out Starman and Alaireia’s voices, he heard something else.

  “Thieves,” a voice hissed, shaking the leaves. “Thieves.”

  He could sense the anger and frustration filling the air. Turning, he hustled over to Crinte, pulling an arrow from the quiver Legone had refilled for him. “I hear it,” he whispered.

  “They are watching,” Crinte spoke, “but not attacking yet.”

  Marklus moved between rows. “Alaireia, Starman!”

  “What is it?” Alaireia replied from ahead.

  “Keep it down. Something is out there,” Marklus instructed.

  Crinte hurried to join them. “We should move on westward. Where is Swift?”

  Legone stood at the end of the garden, facing his companions, waiting. His hands trembled as he held his bow; his heart beat quickened and he knew his face was pale. Briefly, he wondered if the others would curse him if they knew this had been his mission all along. He watched as they came, creeping out of the woods, holding long, pointed spears in their hands. They stood well over six feet tall, his height, as their long limbs strode through the garden. A pool of green light shimmered behind them, gleaming on their translucent pale green skin. Their long, solemn faces were taut, giving away nothing, even as they hissed behind their teeth. Pale hair fell in waves past their shoulders, taking on the color of the light that streamed behind them but ever changing within the shadows. Abnormally large ears stuck up from their heads, and long limbs moved forward, lightly and easily through the rows of plants, until they were brought to a halt by Crinte’s sword.

  “How dare you!” one of the tall beings spat, glaring down at Crinte. “Infiltrate our forests and steal our bounty. You must return what was lost or pay tenfold!”

  Crinte lowered his sword as the being seemed to be willing to talk through transgressions rather than fight first and explain later. “We apologize. We did not realize these plants belonged to you.”

  The being crossed him arms, staring down his nose at Crinte.

  “We only ask to take a few leaves with us, for survival, and would be happy to provide payment.”

  The being snorted. “You? Payment? You who have desecrated our hallowed ground? What could you possibility have that we would want?”

  “Me.” A voice spoke from behind Crinte as Legone limped up, his bow hanging by his side. “I have returned.”

  39

  Shilmi

  The beings looked, and even though they attempted to hide their surprise, Crinte could see their minds reeling as they stared at Legone. Quiet echoed throughout the garden. Even the buzz of the black and yellow bugs had stilled. Legone moved to stand in front of Crinte, eye to eye with the being who had spoken first. Spears were lowered and the malicious tint of the air turned wary.

  “Come with us,” the being said, his voice even. He swept his hand out towards the light.

  The other beings parted like a river, allowing him to lead the way. Legone followed without hesitation, Crinte behind him as he sensed the change in the air. A brief nod to Marklus, Alaireia, and Starman told them to follow as well.

  They walked as if under a spell into the pool of light that shifted and whirled, pointing their steps in a new direction. The forest rotated and it seemed they walked out of the trees. It was mere minutes before the blinding light faded and they found themselves standing in a green land. The sloping ground was a carpet of dark green moss that sank underneath their feet. Before them, lights of pale green lit up the gloom, for a darkness hung heavy over the land. Great trees sprung
here and there, with pale white bark and bare branches pointing downwards. Gray, ivy-embedded stone structures dotted the countryside. A dry foundation lay to the left of them, an overrun courtyard a few paces ahead. The beings led the five to a ruined castle which rose high above them with great columns and ceilings but few walls. They walked down a flight of stairs alongside a dry riverbed, and through a covered passageway where remains of a garden lay crackled, dried, and brown. Up a winding staircase they continued, and around a corner, there was a lookout over the green land. Hills rolled into green glades where life flowed no more.

  “What has happened here?” Legone said in a broken voice, thick with emotion.

  The being in the lead said nothing but kept walking, his gait light and easy, strolling through the ruined castle.

  Crinte watched Legone as they walked. His cold demeanor was fading, his head tilted, his eyes darted here and there. He was searching. His eyes blinked rapidly, his nostrils flared as he took in the apparent death and decay of the castle. Legone walked like one of them. Although he limped, his strides were long and silent. His dark hair caught in the shadows like one of them, taking on new hues as they passed through patches of silvery light.

  Marklus could hear the wind rustling the dry leaves that lay fallen in gloomy shadows of the open passageways they walked through. Although their footsteps were silent, he could hear voices of days past filter through the wind. Ghosts of laughter and tears whisked past him. He looked to Crinte questioningly, wondering why they had detoured to such an odd place.

  Alaireia and Starman walked behind Marklus, exchanging worried glances. They rounded a corner, and gray columns opened into a courtyard. Green light streamed in at odd angles, highlighting a circle of thrones which had been carved out of gray stone. There were a total of twelve; two sat on a raised dais and the other ten spread out equally on each side. Each throne had a bizarre headstone carved into the top. One looked like a slice of moonlight holding an emerald stone, another a triangle of sharp points, like a cactus, but holding a ruby crown. However, the two thrones on the dais depicted a sphere with a star within, and within the star a golden crown, and within the crown a green stone. The jewels within the stones appeared muted like the figures that sat below them. At first, they appeared to be engraved into the stone, but awoke as the group approached. A male and female sat on the two raised thrones, their pale gowns flowing to rest on the rough stones below. The male had thin, silvery white hair that fell to his shoulders, hiding within the folds of his clothing. His face was shrunken and pale, his nose a thin beak, his eyes a sharp pale blue. He stared at the five in a thoughtful manner as they approached; otherwise, he did not move. The female had round, large blue eyes and long white lashes. Her hair fell in waves past her shoulders, dancing in the wind. Pointed ears stuck up above her head and her skin shone pale green. She drew a sharp breath and a green light shimmered around her as the five approached. She almost lifted her slender form from her throne, but the male lifted his finger and she froze again.

  The being who had led them there swept his hand towards the thrones, motioning for them to sit on the ones furthest from the male and female. Crinte nodded soothingly at his warriors as they tentatively sat on the cold stone seats. The being moved to the middle of the circle of thrones and bowed. “King Isilder. Lady Paleidir.”

  King Isilder nodded in acknowledgement.

  “They,” the being swept his arm towards the five warriors, “were found in our gardens, stealing mocholeach. They offered payment in exchange. We have brought them here for your judgment since one is familiar to us.” The being looked at Legone for a moment with an unreadable expression.

  “We see.” King Isilder nodded slowly.

  The being withdrew, stepping backwards politely to keep from turning his back to the King. The other beings surrounded the circle of thrones but stood outside of them, holding their spears, waiting, guarding.

  A hush settled over the sphere as King Isilder stood slowly, as if daring to trust his bones to hold him. He stood well over six feet and looked down at the warriors, his piercing eyes coming to rest on Crinte. “Tell me, who are you and why do you find yourselves in these parts?” At his last words, he looked at Legone the Swift.

  Crinte stood respectfully, holding his own despite the fact his stature was much shorter than the King’s. “We have traveled far but our business is our own. We were under the assumption that plants in the forest were free for the taking; however, we admit our mistake and would be willing to conduct a fair exchange.”

  The King looked at him for a long, thoughtful moment while Crinte stared back evenly, his eyes beginning to gleam gold.

  “We mean you no harm,” the Lady said suddenly, causing a ripple of warmth to generate through the sphere. She did not stand, only looked at each of them with her round eyes. “I am Paleidir, Lady of the Green People. You have reached our home in Shilmi, a home poisoned with death. You must understand, mocholeach is our only source of energy left. We need as much as we can, and your theft hinders our survival. Yet, it seems you may need it, at least for a time. For you, the next thirty days will be crucial. I sense there is a greater purpose here you are reluctant to explain. That you shield knowledge from us is understandable, but you are not all strangers here.” She turned her blue gaze on Legone.

  Crinte sat back down, glancing at Legone. Waiting.

  Legone’s eyes were shiny and wet as he looked back at Lady Paleidir. “I have returned for one reason. My companions and I go to the Great Water Hole to stop Sarhorr the Ruler. We need your help.”

  Dry gasps echoed through the circle of thrones as the Green People failed to hide their surprise. King Isilder sat down heavily, his face paler than it had been. Lady Paleidir put a hand to her forehead as if her head had become too heavy to hold up.

  “Do not speak that name here,” King Isilder said faintly.

  “A name which rose from here?” Legone challenged the King. “We must make things right, and you know how.”

  “Tell us,” King Isilder demanded, “who are you to storm into our midst and ask of us like this?”

  Crinte’s eyes flashed briefly as he rose again, announcing himself. “I am Crinte the Wise, from Norc of Mizine. I lead these warriors forth and no one shall stand against us.”

  Marklus stood as well, more than ready to back up Crinte. “I am Marklus the Healer, from Zikeland of Mizine.”

  Starman stood awkwardly. “Starman the Trazame, from Trazamy City of Mizine.”

  Alaireia had a hand on her sword hilt as she rose confidently. “Alaireia the Ezinck, from Srinka in the Forests of the Ezinck in Mizine.”

  “You know who I am.” Legone stood last. “Legone the Swift, from the Afrd Mounts in Wiltieders of Mizine.”

  “We will help you,” Lady Paleidir said decisively. She raised her head and stood tall. She looked to the King, who nodded. “You may keep the mocholeach, and we will provide knowledge. In return, you must not fail.” She looked at Legone. “I am sorry it has come to this.” She began to walk, barefoot, padding across the stones. “Ilictor,” she turned to the being who had led the five there, “have rooms prepared. They will join us for the last meal.” She turned to the five who stood expectant. “Follow me. You look weary of heart. Today, you shall rest and heal. Tomorrow, at sunrise, you may return to your journey.”

  She walked past them, and slowly they followed. Questions died on Crinte’s lips as the Green People watched them with downcast eyes, unsettled whispers filtering through their midst. As they walked, voices began to hum, breaking the vibrations of silence. A deep voice joined in, humming the bass lines. A tenor followed, adding harmony to the song. A soprano wailed in the distance and an alto joined, adding waves to the song. The Green People followed Lady Paleidir as she led them through the dark, winding castle. Up they ascended, and below, the song wailed away and King Isilder sat alone on his throne with his head in his hands.

  A time later, the five warriors found themselves sitti
ng in a banquet hall with round tables scattered across it. The Green People had left them for a moment and they sat hushed, staring at the high stone ceilings where dusty cobwebs dwelt. Legone hung his head, feeling his fears fading inward. At first, he’d thought they might all be dead, but knowing they were alive was barely a relief. He looked at the others, seeing the questions in their eyes. “We were meant to come here,” he said. “I need their knowledge to destroy the Ruler.”

  “We need their knowledge,” Crinte added. “Tell us, Legone, is this where you spent your years on the other side with the Green People? Can we trust them, knowing they were the ones who banished the Ruler in the first place instead of destroying him?”

  Legone shook his head. “They did not know what he is, what he would become. We can trust Paleidir, Lady of the Green People. Her father, King Isilder, is torn, broken. I fear his mind is deceived. Paleidir has a pure heart; she will know what to do.”

  “You have known her long?” Crinte remarked.

  “Yes.” Legone nodded, lifting his head. “She is my wife.”

  Crinte’s eyes flashed. “Your wife!”

  Marklus leaned forward curiously. “Was she the one who introduced you to the Green People?”

  “No. That was another. She is dead now.” Legone bowed his head.

  “Swift,” Alaireia put in, puzzled. “You said you were forced from here. If she is your wife, why didn’t she flee with you, at least? Something made you run back to Mizine. Why would we return here now?”

  “Can’t you see?” Legone cried. “Their land is poisoned, they are suffering! All the immortals will die if they stay here. The Green People, the Mermis, they all will be no more!”