Dumbfounded, Eliesmore turned to Ellagine. She gave a light laugh. “There is nothing to fear from him.”
Eliesmore waited for her to explain, but the ten men still stood before them. The first lifted his knees and marched away; the others followed him in a single file. Lifting up their voices once more, they began to sing of the greatness of Novor Tur-Woodberry.
“Wow!” Optimistic whistled as the Singing Mean disappeared, taking their song with them. In the distance, they heard the low tones. Every now and again, fragments of a line drifted to their ears.
“Novor Tur-Woodberry.” Arldrine beamed, a smile spreading across her somber face. “Tales speak of him and his Singing Men, although I assumed they were long gone from this world.”
“I thought you knew all the lore of this world,” Optimistic teased as they walked, following the faint song.
“I do know what tales say about him.” Arldrine cocked her head. “He is a great Dunithair, following in the same tradition as Marklus the Healer.”
“Oh, I know about Dunithairs,” Eliesmore interrupted, proud to show off his knowledge about something. “They are the Watchers of this world. Dunithairs are a particular kind; they often own land and hold power.”
“Well said,” Ellagine praised him. “Novor Tur-Woodberry is the Keeper of this land. I dare say we shall be safe from the Rakhai as long as we travel on his property. Perhaps he is the reason my abilities do not work here.” She muttered the last few words, holding out an arm and watching her green glow settle around her.
“How far does his land reach?” asked Optimistic.
“There is a great wood three days from here.” Ellagine dropped her arm.
“Ah, I know of this wood.” Arldrine frowned.
“Do we have to pass through it?” Eliesmore glanced from Arldrine to Ellagine.
“Yes,” Ellagine replied absentmindedly. “Many strange creatures live there.”
Eliesmore disliked the distant expression her face held, and suddenly he imagined he heard the neigh of a horse. Jumping, he narrowed his eyes as he looked back the way they had come. Dark and evil did not belong in the land of Novor Tur-Woodberry.
Thick, lush grasses padded their steps like a carpet, allowing bright red and purple flowers to thread through it and create a colorful path through the meadow. Monstrous red trees sprung up, stretching their branched arms out to provide shade from the warm rays of the bright sun. Eliesmore could feel the pulse of the land in his chest—growing, sprouting, and coming to life as he walked through it. Thoughts of his quest, the horror of the Torsilo Quarts, and the evil Rakhai faded as he gazed in awe; he felt like one walking in a dream.
Here plants grew twice as big than any he’d ever seen and stood strong as the winds danced through them. The sky was a deep shade, blushing between blue and pink as red and blue birds flew across it, blending with the colors. Hills rose and swelled before Eliesmore’s eyes. He stood with his mouth open, pointing a finger, too astonished to say anything at all. A silvery breeze laughed as it ran through the grass and flowers, causing mischief with its dance of light. Songbirds chirped to each other in the distance, passing the tune of the song the Singing Men sang from tree to tree, so that all might hear and praise the greatness of Novor Tur-Woodberry.
Ellagine halted and pointed to a circle of trees that grew before their eyes and visibly swayed as they took up the song of Novor Tur-Woodberry. Suddenly, all living creatures seemed to sing, even the grass—there must have been Zikes there—and the flowers. Snow-white rabbits the size of foxes leaped through the air, ears twitching in rhythm to the tune. The sweet nectar of poppy and herb imbued the air as hummingbirds fluttered to dip their long beaks into the delicious goodness.
Eliesmore tried to see how many birds he could recognize as they moved forward again. He saw robins, cardinals, sparrows, swallows, chickadees, and blue jays building their nests. Brown squirrels with streaks of gray in their fur ran through the thick carpet of grass, chattering above the song. A weasel, wiggling its nose as it watched the strangers, stood up on its hind legs. A chipmunk scurried into its hole, scolding at the merriment in the land.
As if these small wonders weren’t enough, Eliesmore heard a roaring, thundering sound, like something falling and crashing and dashing. Within it was a voice, and when it spoke, his heart dropped and he knew he had to know. He took a deep breath and the fresh air shot into his body like an arrow. Every muscle in his body drank it in until he felt himself grow.
He walked like one in a dream, knowing he had found paradise, the Land of Lock. It was a place where the world was different, and evil was shut out. Here they could cease worrying about the Changers and Monrages. With each step, Eliesmore felt lighter, and he was sure if he leaped over the growing hills, he would find himself taking flight.
The four went up a hill. At the top, they found a singing waterfall and watched it go bubbling and leaping. It almost danced down to join a river. It twisted away eastward, continuing its song as it went. The waterfall came from a stream that stretched west as far as the eye could see. It came with great joy to cast itself down and down, crashing into more water and on.
As Eliesmore stood with Ellagine, Arldrine, and Optimistic, staring into the brilliant water, he heard a voice singing. He was sure he saw creatures swimming in the current, leaping down the waterfall, like fish diving, as they shouted with joy. Despite the determination of the world to turn everyone’s mind bitter, they seemed genuinely happy. Eliesmore smiled as he watched the water creatures, but the song the Singing Men sang pulled him and his companions onward, like fingers leading the way. Eliesmore sighed as he gazed at the land of Novor Tur-Woodberry, wishing he could stay for the rest of his life.
19
Eliesmore
They left the bubbling waterfall and went on until the sound of it was nothing more than a distant rumble. Meanwhile, the song the Singing Men sang became louder, and the words they sang became clearer. A hill dipped down before them, and at the bottom, they saw a cottage. It perched in the middle of what might have been a glade, although no trees surrounded it. Instead, small green bushes circled the hut and grew out in four lines like a compass pointing north, south, east and west. The grass was a blend of two colors: emerald green and white straw. In the middle of the odd landscaping, the circular home sat with wisps of smoke curling out of its chimney. It had an old, weather-beaten look about it, and the roof was made of thatched straw. The sound of singing came from within, and the four approached it slowly, searching for a door.
“Here we are, here we are
The home of Novor Tur-Woodberry.
The grass is fresh; the smell is sweet.
Welcome, welcome.
March to the door.
There is no door.
Find the initials,
Friend or foe.
Friends are welcome;
Come and dine.
Wipe your feet, and name your business,
Friend or foe.”
As they walked up to the hut, Ellagine gave a silvery laugh. “Eliesmore, find the mystery of the door. Don’t tell him Arldrine.” Optimistic looked just as amused, but he stayed quiet. “And Eliesmore,” Ellagine added. “Don’t be afraid to ask Novor Tur-Woodberry questions. There is much he knows.”
Eliesmore nodded, peering at the stone. All the walls were smooth, and like the song said, there was no door. As he studied the hut, Eliesmore noticed grooves on one side. Reaching out his ran his fingers over them, noting they made out the initials N.T. He pushed against them, but it was solid stone. All was silent, even the song ceased. He looked to Arldrine, who shook her head slightly. Her eyes danced with mischief while Optimistic nodded encouragingly at him. “Well, here goes.” He pursed his lips and called out, “Friends.”
An archway appeared, opening into the hut. Novor Tur-Woodberry beamed down at them. A golden light made his rich beard gleam, and his smile threatened to split open his face. “Come in, come in!” he boomed. “The feast is
ready; the food is hot.”
He stood aside while Ellagine, Arldrine, Optimistic, and Eliesmore entered. Suddenly, their travel-stained clothes seemed clean again, and the exhaustion from their journey melted away. Novor Tur-Woodberry turned, and the archway disappeared. Instead of walls, brown tree bark rose on all sides of the room like a forest canopy, meeting the broad leaves and branches that hung down to stroke their heads. Moss and grass clung to the walls, slumbering in the presence of greatness. The sweet fragrance of fresh rain enveloped the air like a lover and a golden light beamed down upon them. Its hues were soft and inviting, calming their hearts and minds as it shone.
In the middle of the room, a heavy oak table was set for fifteen. Each of the Singing Men stood beside a seat, swaying and humming under their breaths. Each chair was carved with a beast of the wood or a treasure of old. One carving was of a lion on its hind legs, roaring. Another was of a winged horse taking flight. Yet another was a sword swinging into action, light blazing from its blade. Eliesmore thought he saw each carving come to life, moving for mere seconds. When he blinked, all was still again.
“Welcome to my home. Come in, sit down, and meet my Singing Men,” Novor Tur-Woodberry rumbled in his earthy tones. His voice reverberated across the room like distant thunder resounding before a storm. As they walked to the table, stealing curious glances about, only Ellagine seemed to be completely at ease. It was a moment before the intoxicating whiffs of food reminded Eliesmore how hungry he was for a good meal instead of dried meats and rare fruits. As soon as they were seated, Novor Tur-Woodberry commanded, “Eat!” They fell upon the food without a word.
The table was heaped high with fat sausages dripping with sauce, roasted ham with pineapple strewn across it, and trout from the stream stuffed with apples and bathed in lemon and garlic. Thick strips of bacon with a sweet and crunchy topping decorated each place while beside everyone sat a glass of wine. When Eliesmore sipped the drink, he found it fresh and light, as crisp as an apple yet sending sweetness tingling through his body. A basket of fruit appeared at his right side, heaped with apples, oranges, grapes, and cherries. Pies whizzed past him, thick with vegetables; their flaky crusts were unable to hide the juicy bites hidden inside. There were sweet loaves of bread and nutty slices of bread, corn dripping in milk, and dishes Eliesmore could not name, even if he tried. As he ate, he felt himself growing and flourishing. Even before he wished for more, it appeared on his plate, and his wine glass stayed full, brimming with the sweet elixir.
Finally, he grew still, leaning back in his chair and sipping his wine, while music played on a harp, humming in the background. Eliesmore sighed. This is what adventure should be like: a narrow escape from the dangers beyond the forest and a satisfying meal at the end of the day. He never knew food could taste so good nor fill him with such abundance. It seemed his chair grew deeper, and there were arms on it now. He sank down into it. He was full, at peace, happy, and safe. It seemed to him time was nothing. He closed his eyes as a light surrounded him.
When he woke next, he was still in his chair. The table was gone, and he sat in front of a roaring fire. Optimistic sat to his left, twirling the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, a look of utter satisfaction lay on his face like an enchantment. Arldrine sat to his right; her dark lids were half shut as she watched the rise and fall of the flames. Ellagine sat beyond Optimistic; her head bent forward. Her shoulder shook. When she lifted her face to brush at it, Eliesmore saw anguish and realized she was crying. His heart dropped. He wanted to rise and go comfort her, but the soft cushions of his chair held him fast, making him feel like he never wanted to move again. Besides, how could she be crying at the house of Novor Tur-Woodberry? They were safe. Nothing could harm them. What was wrong with her? He watched her green light shimmer, folding around her like a blanket. Suddenly he felt like an intruder thrusting himself into an intimate moment, and he turned his eyes away.
A magnificent chair sat in front of the fire, facing the four. A moment later Novor Tur-Woodberry appeared, holding a curved pipe. “Oh ho,” his deep voice rumbled as he sat. “So, you have awakened, and I have news for you.”
He stretched out his mighty legs, looking very much like an oak tree. Reaching into the fire, he lifted a twig, alight with flame, and lit his pipe. Tossing the twig back into the fire, he puffed on his pipe. The room became smaller as the walls came nearer, leaning in to hear what might be said around the fire. The floor was carpeted with green moss, cushioning their feet, while the flames crackled and leaped, licking up the wood around them.
After a while, Eliesmore struggled upward in his chair, still hearing music from harps and the friendly flames of the fire. “Novor Tur-Woodberry,” he started, “if I may ask, who exactly are you and where did you come from?”
Novor Tur-Woodberry continued to puff, creating a cloud of smoke before blowing it away. Minutes passed, and just as Eliesmore was beginning to feel embarrassed for breaking the silence, Novor Tur-Woodberry spoke. “Novor Tur-Woodberry they call me, and here I was sent to rule this land. Long ago, before song begun and tales were spoken, this world was created, and creatures of many kinds began to thrive. As the years passed, Changers rose up, creating all sorts of mischief and misdeeds. I was sent to take charge of this land and balance the powers of good and evil. This land I keep alive and growing with the power that is given me. I take care of the wild plants, letting the live ones remain while the dead are taken away. Many animals reside here because I keep evil off of my lands. This is a safe haven for White Steeds, and Black Steeds rarely come near. Yet if they do, I hurry them off my property so not to harm others. I am a Dunithair, and my ten Singing Men are Fúlishités. We know much of the wisdom and wealth of this world so ask me. I know many tales and songs of old. But first, tell me young White Steeds how you came to be hereabouts. The One and his companions should be far from here.”
Eliesmore felt a tightness in his chest at the reference to the words of prophecy. He glanced from Optimistic to Arldrine in discomfort. They only nodded, encouraging him to speak. “You are correct.” Eliesmore swallowed hard. “We are White Steeds, and I do carry the Jeweled Sword. Our mission is to dissolve the Green Stone, and we are on our way to the fortress to take others with us. Only, since the Rakhai have arisen, our journey has been consumed with trying to escape their clutches.”
“This I know.” Novor Tur-Woodberry took his pipe out of his mouth, and his expression turned grave. “There is more.”
“Tell me,” Ellagine interrupted, her face distraught. “Tell me what is happening in Shimla; I can feel it.”
“This is what I must say.” Novor Tur-Woodberry sat up and leaned forward. His intense gaze searched the faces of his guests. “The barrier of protection that has lain over this land has fallen, allowing the Rakhai to penetrate it and strike hard. A dark rampage was let loose, enabling them to knock the defenses of the White Steeds almost out of existence. They are seeking the One and the Keeper of the Green Stone. They are bent on destruction. Only it seems the One is stronger than they initially thought, and they had to turn away. Black Steeds were sent out, raiding the forest in Shimla and killing many. Some escaped, and, even as we speak, many are fleeing towards the Pillars of Creation. The west, I fear, has gone black. Here in the Eastern Hill Countries, there are still as many as hundred White Steeds. The fortress is the only safe haven left.”
“As many as a hundred White Steeds?” Arldrine gasped, rising halfway out of her chair. “This cannot be true!”
Eliesmore discerned the impact of that statement as he thought of the world. Surely there were thousands of people living in the South World. How could so few be White Steeds?
A profound silence swept over the room as the gravity of their situation sunk in. The music was gone, and even the fire silenced its voice. Eliesmore blinked and saw spots of darkness covering his vision, blocking out everything else. Ellagine’s face was a mask of grief, Arldrine sank into her chair in horror, and even Optimistic put do
wn his head, hiding his stricken expression. A whirlwind of thoughts tore through Eliesmore’s mind. They had failed before they started; the Black Steeds had almost achieved their goal. They could not win with only a hundred White Steeds on their side. Where was the army? Where were those in hiding? There was no point in going on to the fortress or dissolving the Green Stone. There was no point in gathering an army, which would be beaten before they could march out to fight. The darkness of the Black Steeds had come much further than he had ever imagined. The beast would rise up out of Rededak, and it would not matter if one were a Black Steed or White Steed, the world was doomed. The light had gone out; the end was near.
“It can’t be,” Eliesmore whispered. No one heard. It was as if he was in a dream. The Rakhai were coming; they would be ripped to shreds. The fear and torment were more than he could bear. He stood up, shaking as a line of “Song” came to him: “They will come out and rejoice, for evil had been receded…” And then he was back in the home of Novor Tur-Woodberry, sitting with his stricken companions in silence. Even Novor Tur-Woodberry’s face was grave.
Suddenly light illuminated the room, casting golden light into every dark shadow. Daelidrains circled the air above them. “Peace,” they whispered, touching every heart and wiping every tear away. “When the night seems darkest, the light shines the brightest. Do not give up before you have begun to fight, move forward, take up the mission, complete it, and never give up. The King and Queen of the Land are on your side.” With these last words, they disappeared as quickly as they had come, and there was silence yet again.
Eliesmore sank into his chair; his eyes were wet. The fire shuddered as he took a deep breath and let it out again. The warm crackling began again, and music played far away. A deep peace and then a certain sense of determination filled the air.
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 74
