The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  As if the dance was not grand enough, Eliesmore was fascinated when he saw more Idrains slip out of the shadows of the trees and join the circle. There were the Falidrains with golden hair, ranging between four and five feet tall. They were slender, quick, and light of foot, which made them appear smaller than they were. Last of all, the Jesnidrains came out dressed in forest green. Their dark coloring allowed them to blend into the shadows, and their bright eyes glowed yellow. They moved without a sound, sometimes floating in the air for no reason at all. Once they joined, the dance seemed to be complete.

  The Iaens and animals of the wood gathered around the fire, forming circles. Each row twined and mingled with the others. The fire continued to grow brighter until it seemed it was the only light of the wood. The music increased as Idrains, perched high in trees, brought out their instruments and began to play.

  Eliesmore slipped into the dancing circles, his feet pounding the ground, and his heart lifting in anticipation. The fire cast a rich golden gleam about the glade, and one by one, the dancers reached out to each other, joining hands. They lifted up their voices and began to sing, and even the trees and their leaves swayed in jubilee.

  A creature passed him a jar of liquid gold. Eliesmore drank the warm, sweet nectar, feeling it leap inside his belly. His eyes glazed over in pleasure, and he felt himself writhe and curl as he moved in rhythm to the dance. A Falidrain, her face as pure and cold as marble, wrapped her arms around him, laughing with glee as she twirled him to another partner. A Jesnidrain, more nude than clothed, stretched her wings, gyrating through the glade. Creatures lifted their arms in the air and bowed to invisible deities as they danced.

  Around they went, swinging their legs and with their arms lifted up. Together they were one, joining a celebration as they danced the night away. The warmth from the fire did not deter them, and the coolness of the wind did not chill them. Eliesmore had not known such splendid events could happen and did happen right outside his window. The song continued, the musical voices blending and harmonizing with a chorus of “sing and dance” shouted out every few stanzas or so. They sang of the forest and the Green Havens, they praised the beauty of the South World and the land of Shimla, they spoke of the stars and the moon, and the nightly gatherings to dance. They even sang of the One who would save the world, honoring and welcoming his future coming. Eliesmore had never heard of “Song”, he was not sure what the words meant, but the lack of knowledge did not hinder his dancing.

  Eliesmore found himself laughing and shouting out “sing and dance” with the creatures while he kicked his legs and threw his hands in the air. He was dragged around one circle and spun to another one, until the fire’s brazen warmth made him sweat. At one point, he threw back his head and glimpsed the twinkling stars. For a moment, he imagined they were singing and dancing along with him. His heart was full. His head was drunk from the intoxicating music, the unending dance, the blur of the fire, the sweet liquid, the song of the birds, and the Idrains flying across the glade.

  After a while, Eliesmore dropped out of the dance because he was not used to such rigorous activity. Out of breath and enticed by all the magnificent sights, he stumbled over to a tree and collapsed beneath its broad boughs. The tree swayed with the music. When he looked up, Eliesmore could see Idrains and small woodland animals dancing together on its branches. Musicians sat tucked into corners of tree branches, plucking breathtaking melodies out of stringed instruments. Eliesmore could not get enough. Vibrant colors continued to whirl around the fire: bright blues, deep purples, and bold reds. Eliesmore felt like he was in a dream. How could this possibly be real?

  Hours passed as the dancing continued. Creatures twirled by, some stopping to hand him round nuts, plump berries, bitter cheeses, and more of the magical elixir. Slowly and surely, the dancers grew less energized, and animals started fading and dragging their weary bodies home. The music softened as instruments dropped out a few at a time. Now there was no more singing, and the birds took flight. Little by little, the creatures of the wood snuck away, heading towards mysterious places in the forest. Eliesmore found himself yawning and decided he should go home before dawn and before his mother found he was gone.

  As he stood to leave, he paused and looked back at the glade before plunging into the forest. It all seemed like a marvelous dream. He took it all in so he could preserve the memory for as long as possible. The melody stayed in his heart as he headed home. By some instinct he knew his way, and he half-danced and half-walked, his bare feet hardly making a sound on the forest floor. He could not stop thinking of the beautiful Iaens and the talking animals. He wondered if the dance was every night and whether they would invite him again because he wished to go back.

  By the time he came out of the woods, hints of dawn were beginning to show. Back in the unmagical Land of Lock, Eliesmore hurried home, humming the entire way. He climbed the ivy and elm tree back up to his room, shut the window, and instantly fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed about dancing with the creatures of the wood, and in his dreams, he heard the most beautiful music; the odd song, the contagious joy, and oneness of all who were involved.

  It seemed only minutes instead of a few hours later when his mother shook him awake. Eliesmore blinked as daylight invaded his room. “I almost didn’t want to wake you,” Myran said, “you were sleeping so hard.”

  Eliesmore sat up and stretched, smiling at his mother, delight from the previous night bubbling over.

  “Eliesmore.” Myran sighed and tugged at his shirt. “How many times have I told you not to sleep in your clothes?”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot again,” Eliesmore apologized, looking down at his crinkled shirt.

  Myran reached out, brushing at the creases with her hand. As she did so, a green leaf fell and fluttered to the floor. Myran picked it up and looked at her son. “You smell like the forest, Eliesmore.”

  “I had a dream about it,” he offered, wondering if it had been real.

  “I wonder if you are doing what you dream,” Myran said more to herself. She got up to fix the first meal, keeping the leaf with her.

  The day passed. Eliesmore spent time helping his mother with the chores: cooking, planting, and gathering wood and water from the nearby river. Sometimes he caught his mother staring at him. Eliesmore considered his future. What would life hold for him? Would he always have to live with his mother in the lonely hut? Would he get to go on a great quest like the Heroes of Old?

  Eliesmore went to sleep that night with thoughts of grand adventures. He had not been asleep long when the call woke him up. Leaping up, he threw open the window, a grin splitting his face as he shimmied down the elm tree and raced towards the hill. After that, each night he went out to dance with the creatures of the wood. If his mother suspected, she never said a word.

  5

  Eliesmore

  Year 939

  One evening, when Eliesmore was fifteen and finally taller than five feet, the Iaen called him early. He bolted straight up in bed, curious, for he hadn’t had time to fall asleep. Typically the invitation came closer to midnight after he’d spent some time in the land of dreams. But he did not mind the early call because he dearly loved his nights out with the creatures of the wood. Getting up, he opened the window and swung down the elm tree as he did every night. The hill was barren, for he knew the way, and no animals gathered to lead him to the glade. The short journey through the forest did not seem to take as long as it once did. He wound his way through tree and leaf, eagerly anticipating another intoxicating night celebrating with the creatures of the wood. As he drew closer to the dancing circle, he saw a few birds flying overhead, hastening to the gathering. The underbrush rustled as talking animals snuck in, their numbers greatly diminished. Before Eliesmore could wonder about it, a Nigidrain floated in front of his face. Eliesmore halted. All five inches of the beautiful female flickered in front of him. She had long light hair the color of moonlight with a golden crown on her head. She waved a silver scepte
r in her hand while the crystal jewels of her dress reflected the lights of the night.

  “What is happening?” Eliesmore gestured towards the glade.

  The Nigidrain smiled as she floated in front of him. “Tonight you are coming with me to learn of the White and Black Steeds, talking animals, and Iaen, young one.”

  “Oh. I am called Eliesmore,” he corrected her. “What’s your name?”

  The Nigidrain giggled as if his question were stupid. “We don’t tell mortals our names, but since you have danced with us for two years, I dare say you might as well be counted as one of us. I am Irnidrathe.”

  Eliesmore smiled at the compliment. “Are we going to the dance now?”

  “No.” Irnidrathe’s jewels clinked together as she shook her head. “Every few years we hold a council and tonight there is one. The more important Iaen must gather and discuss what goes on in this world, and the creatures of the wood come together to listen and offer input.”

  “Oh. How is the world?”

  "What do you know of the world?"

  "Very little," Eliesmore admitted. "Tell me what you know."

  "Come with me young Eliesmore; I will share with you as we walk to my home.” Irnidrathe started flying away, and Eliesmore followed her. “First, there is something I have to tell you.”

  “What is it?” he replied, slightly out of breath as he attempted to keep up.

  “Tomorrow is your last night.”

  “Last night? What do you mean?”

  “To come out and to dance with us. At least the last night for a long time.”

  Eliesmore froze and stared at Irnidrathe in horror. “Not come?” he cried despairingly. “I have to come. This is the only excitement in my life. You can’t take this away from me!”

  “Eliesmore, it is at an end,” she responded firmly. “We were told to call you, and now we were told to stop. But one day you will come again, we just do not know when.”

  “But why?”

  “You will know. When you come again. I cannot explain all.”

  “I know the way,” Eliesmore retorted, “I can just come anyway.”

  “Oh, you won’t. Do you think the forest is always like this? You know the way because we opened the path up to you. Try our patience, and you will be blind to the paths of the forest.”

  “Then what will I do? I have nothing to live for and no adventure,” Eliesmore complained.

  “What did you do the previous thirteen years, before we ever called you? You were fine then, weren’t you? Even though we have spoiled you with our presence, you will get your adventure. It will probably be more than you want.”

  “But I want things to happen now and not wait for some time in the future!” Eliesmore complained.

  “Eliesmore!” Irnidrathe turned and pointed her scepter at him, growing angry. “Stop complaining! Do you realize we have our problems here? We don’t have to deal with the fact we are safe and secure and may never have an adventure because it surrounds us! There are much bigger problems in the world.”

  “I’m sorry,” Eliesmore replied, a bit taken aback. “I did not think. I thought everything was perfect because you sing and dance every night, and you are surrounded by beauty.”

  “No. We live in hiding. The Black Steeds are destroying our kind. The few hours we steal at night to sing and dance are an escape, a way of continuing to hope even though all seems dark.”

  “I’m sorry.” Eliesmore hung his head, much subdued.

  “But come.” Irnidrathe sighed, flying ahead. “You do not know much of this world. Ask of me and I will share what knowledge I have.”

  As she finished speaking, Eliesmore looked up and saw they had arrived at the entrance of a green, mossy cave. Trees grew on either side like guards while bushes and ivy twisted around the entrance like gates, creating an enchanting opening. Nigidrains flew in and out, their glowing scepters lighting up the night. Eliesmore could hear the trickling of water in the distance, and he was amazed at the sights he took in. As he walked inside, the smooth floor cooled his bare toes. Above, Eliesmore saw gems sparkling in the high ceiling and shining in the various passages, which wound up and down and far away. Irnidrathe pointed to one passage. “Down there live the Green People.” She pointed to another. “We store our jewels there.” And another. “The crystal streams flow there.” And another. “Our jeweled halls lie down there.”

  Eliesmore stared at the vast halls and gemstones, and suddenly he had a flashback. A faint memory tugged at his mind, something he had dismissed years ago. He thought of the white box, the sea, and the jewels sparkling under his small hands.

  “Eliesmore, what is it?” Irnidrathe asked, looking at his blank expression.

  “Jewels,” Eliesmore whispered.

  “Come, we will go there.” She fluttered for a minute in front of Eliesmore’s face, bringing him sharply back to the present before floating down one passage.

  Eliesmore hastened to follow as they walked down the jewel-lit halls, the twinkling lights seemingly too ethereal to be tangible. The vast hall of treasure revealed mounds of sparkling gems and Nigidrains flying in and out; they were blurs of white against the shimmering colors. Eliesmore gazed in astonishment as he circled the room, too awed to even touch a jewel. He had not seen the world, but he had heard of its unfathomable beauties. The colors of the stones melded together, giving the appearance of being as clear as crystal. When Eliesmore moved closer, he could see the heart of each gem had its own color: pale green, bright pink, blood orange, molten yellow, or rose red. If he stared too long, the colors would shift and change under his eyes, turning paler and brighter in turn, as if each jewel breathed. They came in all sizes. Some were as big as his fist; others were like dust in the wind, floating off to join the lights of the Nigidrains and sticking to their clothing. They had voices; he was certain of it, except how could they? They were only jewels.

  Finally, after gazing at the gems for as long as possible, Eliesmore slumped against the smooth cave wall and glanced around for his guide. “Irnidrathe, where did all these come from?”

  Irnidrathe flew to a stop, perching on a pile of jewels at Eliesmore’s eye level. She laid her scepter in her lap and rested her hands on it. “They were mined for us. Long ago, before the moles turned to evil. They were great miners and found many mysteries and treasures underground, which they gave to us.”

  “They turned evil?” Eliesmore asked in surprise.

  Irnidrathe narrowed her eyes as she looked at Eliesmore, measuring how much to say. “Not all creatures are White Steeds,” she began. "Let me explain. These are dark days here in the South World. Everyone, Black Steeds and White Steeds alike, live in fear, and most are hiding.

  “Over a hundred years ago, one called Magdela the Monrage ruled the South World, causing an uproar of death, destruction, pain, and, ultimately, fear. When she was sentenced, the Black Steeds remained in control, building a firm rule under the foundation she left them. Now there are the Dark Three; they keep the South World under their rule. Anyone who shows the appearance of resisting is tortured and slain, along with everyone they hold dear."

  "Why are they called Black Steeds and White Steeds?" Eliesmore interrupted.

  "The name Black Steeds and White Steeds came after the horses. The South World is filled with talking animals, as you know. There are the four main people groups: Crons, Tiders, Ezincks, and Trazames. The Ezincks are rarely seen, and the Trazames have not done well under the oppression of the Black Steeds. There are also the creatures of the wood, my kind, the Idrains. We are called so because the last syllable of our kind ends in 'idrain'--except the Myidraids--Wodnidrains, Nigidrains, Shimidrains, Rainidrains, Falidrains, and Jesnidrains. When we include the Green People, we are referred to as the Iaen. The black and white horses were the first one to choose a side. Afterward, everyone else followed suit, without changing the name. The Black Steeds are those who side with Magdela the Monrage and practice the Great-Black-Evil, also known as dark power. The
White Steeds want to restore freedom and peace to the South World; we believe in fairness, law, and the balance of power. Due to the influence of Magdela the Monrage and the Dark Three, the Black Steeds have gained strength. The White Steeds can no longer resist. We spend our lives in hiding, giving up all hope of salvation. The decline of the White Steeds is on the rise, even worse than in past years. The Watchers are searching for the One to save us, yet he never comes." Irnidrathe's shoulders slumped.

  "I did not know all of this." Eliesmore frowned; the world sounded quite dark. “But are not all Iaens White Steeds?”

  "No, Eliesmore." Irnidrathe shook her head. "Those who come and dance with us nightly are White Steeds, and for the most part, we, Idrains, are White Steeds. However, some creatures of the wood make a choice to join the Black Steeds.

  “For instance, the Monrage, although there has only been one, was a half-Green Person. She practiced the Great-Black-Evil. Wodnidrains are also Idrains; however, they are filled with malice against the people groups. The moles I just told you about, mined from the Holesmoles, until the voles persuaded them to side with the Black Steeds. Now the Holesmoles are dark and dangerous, full of twisted passages where many a mole fights and nobody who goes in ever comes out again. There are the black foxes who are shape shifters; sometimes shedding their red coats to turn black. The coyotes hate the white wolves, the skunks spray their horrible perfume at us, and the wolverines are not on our side either.”