The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  Flywinger slowed down as if he were growing tired. When Eliesmore leaned forward to urge him onward, he saw one of the Monrages riding alongside him. She gave him a dark grin as their eyes met and reached for him, a wasted hand calling for him. Fear bloomed brightly in his heart as he slashed at her hand with his sword. A shock reverberated through his body as he made contact and was hurled through the air. Eliesmore lost his breath for a moment as he landed, only to be dragged up and back. “It’s okay Eliesmore,” Arldrine’s voice assured him. “It’s just me.” He stopped flailing as he allowed her to help him stand. She met his eyes for a brief second and pushed him backward, leaping in front of him as she reached for another arrow.

  Eliesmore held his sword gingerly, ducking as Arldrine let loose an arrow, even though he was behind her. In front of them, Zhane was on the ground, dodging the attack from one of the Rakhai on her beast, his sword flashing in the brief glimpse of light. He was quick with his sword and fast with his feet. All the same, Arldrine took aim. She let loose an arrow that sank into the beast Zhane was fighting. The panther snarled, baring its teeth, and merely continued to fight.

  Dathiem was nowhere near the forest, and Eliesmore noted most of the Rakhai were between Dathiem and the Green Company. Dathiem was running, pausing to send arrows that shot the life out of some of the creatures. Eliesmore counted as he watched, his heart flip-flopping as he realized he could only see five of the Rakhai. Where were the others?

  “Eliesmore!” Arldrine jolted him back to the present moment. “Get back into the forest out of sight.”

  Eliesmore stumbled over branches as he obeyed, slamming his back against a tree truck. He paused, forcing himself to catch his breath. He held the Jeweled Sword in both hands, watching the sharp blade as he breathed. Fear danced on the edges of his vision, tempting him to run and reminding him he wasn’t old enough, experienced enough, or knowledgeable enough to be the One. His pulse pounded, and he could feel himself sweating. To distract himself, he peeked out from around the tree trunk to see how his companions were faring.

  Zhane’s sword sliced through one of the panthers, ripping it from end to end. Its body fell open, and the innards spilled out on the ground. Eliesmore balked in horror at the violent action. His eyes were riveted to Zhane as he spun around and shouted something to Dathiem. Zhane turned toward the forest where Arldrine stood. She had an arrow in her bow yet no target in sight. That’s when Eliesmore noticed the Rakhai seemed to have disappeared, leaving only their monstrous creatures behind.

  “Run!” Zhane was shouting as he bounded closer, the blood on his sword leaving a crimson path behind him.

  Arldrine dropped her stance and ran toward Eliesmore, leaving Glashar to guard the forest while she waited for Dathiem to catch up. “Let’s go!” Arldrine shouted to Eliesmore, pointing farther into the wood.

  Eliesmore leaped out of hiding and ran forward only to stumble to a stop as a Monrage rose in front of him. He could see her wasted face quite clearly. It was as if she’d been there all along, waiting for him to move. Again, he was taken aback by her uncanny resemblance to Ellagine, yet his thoughts did not tarry long as he saw a black crown grow on her head. Light shot out of it, aimed at Eliesmore, and out of reflex, he lifted his sword, blocking it. The Monrage gave a scream of anger and raised her hands, her fingers curling into a fist. One of Eliesmore’s hands flew to his heart as if someone were draining his strength. He sank to the ground just as a black panther sprang out of the wood with a howl, leaping toward him.

  A white arrow caught the panther in the throat, tossing it onto its back where it lay still. The Monrage shrieked and dashed away as Eliesmore gasped for air. Arldrine ran past him, dagger in hand, as she stood over the panther. In an instance, all was still in the wood aside from their heavy breathing.

  “Where are the others?” Dathiem demanded as he ran up to them with Glashar and Zhane.

  Arldrine reached out a hand and helped Eliesmore up. She jerked her chin west. “I believe they are on the other side of the wood.”

  Glashar grabbed another arrow from her quiver. “Ial iál, something is wrong,” she whispered in two languages.

  Eliesmore felt the sting of her words vibrate through his body, hastening his steps. They ran through the forest out into a glade where the moon shone down upon a battlefield. Blue fire flew from Idrithar’s fingers as he power fought the Monrages while Ellagine was nothing more than a queen of green fire, intensifying as she strode forward. Yamier and Wekin were backed into a corner by a panther who sprang and snarled at them, yet no one seemed to notice their predicament. Visra was laughing, a high-pitched whine that carried through the air while she fought, twirling and slashing in vain. Her sword moved too fast for the naked eye to grasp. It was the quiet whimper that made Eliesmore jump with his heart in his throat. A blond head was sprawled in the grass. One arm was lifted as if the person were begging for help. Dathiem ran toward the whimper with his pack in his hands; his bow and arrows were forgotten.

  “Let’s cover them.” Arldrine motioned to Glashar, raising her bow.

  Zhane was already gone, tumbling in the direction of Yamier and Wekin.

  Eliesmore froze, watching the white arrows spin in the moonlight. He turned to follow Dathiem, dreading what he would find. Even as he spun, something cold and hard dug into his neck. It was sharp enough to tear the soft skin around his hair. Jerking backward he knew, even before his eyes saw her. When he tilted his head, he found himself face to face with a Monrage.

  We meet again, her eyes said, although not a word came from her lips. The dark eyes flickered as she pushed the sword into his neck. A drop of blood rolled down; its fall cushioned by his shirt. Come with me.

  The words danced in his head, shutting out everything else. You’ll be free. You’ll be powerful. Come.

  Why? He didn’t understand. How could he be free if he went with the Rakhai?

  They brought this upon themselves. They are using you for their own wishes. Come.

  Eliesmore did not have a response; he felt trickles of sweat rolling down his cheek while the Monrage pushed harder with her sword. An odd sensation rippled through his body. He heard someone calling his name; they sounded far away. His hand twitched, and suddenly he brought his sword up. The Monrage hissed, recoiling at his sudden action. He could feel his hands shaking as he swung the sword toward her, unsure as to why she hadn’t killed him when she had the opportunity. A profound sense of foreboding overcame him as he fought, knowing it was only a matter of time until she stabbed him again. His wounded side hurt, reminding him he was too weak. He couldn’t fight a Monrage and expect to win. Although she was not in his head anymore, he could see the laughter in her dangerous eyes. She meant to kill him one way or another.

  “Get away from him,” a voice demanded from behind him. It was cold, hard, and furious. A ball of green erupted, lifting up the Monrage and throwing her flat on her back. Ellagine strode forward with a sword in hand.

  The Monrage attempted to rise. Ellagine hurled another ball of green flames at her, driving her into the ground. The Monrage lifted her hands in front of her face, ducking and cringing in anticipation of the next blow. It came without hesitation. Ellagine moved forward, relentless, and hurled flames of light into the Monrage until she lay prostrate on the ground.

  Eliesmore gaped in horror, unable to look away from the lack of control displayed by Ellagine. Two strong hands grasped his shoulder. Zhane. “This way!” he ordered.

  Eliesmore was restored to his feet, and even though his legs felt heavy, he ran with the others. The night passed in a blur. He found himself once again on Flywinger’s back. A torrent of thoughts flew through his mind. What happened to Optimistic? Where were the Monrages? Had they lost them? It seemed so long before they slowed to a stop and Eliesmore heard Idrithar calling, “We rest here tonight.” Eliesmore tumbled off Flywinger and sank down where he landed. He used his pack as a pillow. The strain of the night was over, and he relaxed into a blessed slee
p.

  36

  Zhane

  “Something is wrong.” Idrithar leaned on his staff, his brow heavy with trepidation.

  Zhane folded his arms across his chest, letting his fingertips graze the hilt of his sword. His body was alive with adrenaline from the intensity of their encounter with the Rakhai. The undercurrent of anger pulsed through him like a need. Once he started fighting, it was hard to stop. “They had us.” His left hand squeezed into a fist. “They should have slain us all.”

  Idrithar narrowed his eyes, reaching a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “They want to frighten us and make us run. Think about it. Optimistic could have been killed today. Instead, they stabbed him and moved on.”

  Zhane hummed, uncertainty tickling the back of his throat. “Why are they doing this?”

  “Remember when Optimistic left, in January, to search for Ellagine?”

  Zhane nodded. He’d disagreed with Idrithar’s choice to let Optimistic leave. By the time he had a chance to voice his opinion, Optimistic was gone. “It was a needless danger to send the Keeper of the Green Stone out on his own.”

  Idrithar scratched his beard, ignoring Zhane’s rebuke. “You know I followed him for a while. Nothing touched him. According to the old scrolls, the Green People discovered the location of the Green Stone over two hundred years ago. In fact, it stands to reason that Magdela the Monrage was aware of the Green Stone and the prophecies concerning it. It begs the question: why have the immortals left something so powerful in the hands of the mortals? Why not take it for themselves?”

  The knowledge danced just out of his reach as Zhane turned his body to face Idrithar. “What are you saying? There’s a reason Optimistic has the Green Stone? Still has the Green Stone?”

  “Perhaps.” Idrithar grunted. “It is purely speculation on my end. I believe the Green Stone is useless.”

  Zhane gave a short, barking laugh. “Useless? Have you not held it in your hands and felt the power?”

  Idrithar held up a finger, continuing his thought. “Unless Eliesmore dissolves it. I think the immortals know there’s no point in killing Optimistic or Eliesmore until it’s done.”

  Zhane sighed, confused. “Then why keep the rest of us alive?”

  “It is peculiar. We may see they start to cut off us and divide us from each other one by one. Zhane.” Idrithar’s hand gripped Zhane’s shoulder, the solemnness of his next words driving into Zhane’s core. “If that happens, if we fall, you must keep going. Do not turn back; do not stop. Forward is the only way. You and I both know the way to the Idrain Fountain. Eliesmore will need one of us to complete his quest.”

  Zhane nodded, frowning. There was no need to confirm Idrithar’s words; they were both aware of the oath they had sworn. Idrithar dropped his hand from Zhane’s shoulder and turned his gaze toward the west. The land was eerily quiet. Zhane squeezed his fists, allowing doubt to poke holes in his mind. He bit his tongue before he let his next words drift to Idrithar’s ears. “If the Changers are waiting for Eliesmore to dissolve the Green Stone, they are planning an elaborate deception and are waiting to ambush us.”

  “Yes,” Idrithar replied. His voice was bland and matter-of-fact.

  This was what Zhane liked about Idrithar; they tended to be alike in their thinking. They could speak plainly with each other, weighing the pros and cons of a situation before coming to a decision.

  “Then we need to find out how to avoid the trap before we reach the Constel Heights.” Zhane scrubbed at his face in frustration.

  “We have to think like they do,” Idrithar suggested.

  “It makes me question why we need to dissolve the Green Stone.” Zhane shrugged. “But I can’t see any way around it. Either we go to the Constel Heights or else the Changers take over. I fear we may find ourselves in a worse predicament once Eliesmore dissolves the Green Stone.”

  “I will continue to think about this. Let’s discuss this again soon,” Idrithar reasoned.

  “Should we talk to the Idrains? Perhaps they will know?” Zhane offered.

  “Perhaps.” Idrithar pinched his lips together as if he disagreed.

  37

  Sarhorr

  Year 783 (160 Years Ago). Castle Range.

  He spent the next year drowning in pleasure. Once the Green Lady agreed to help him, it seemed as if she cast her spell over Castle Range. She deceived his brother and sister into trusting her and decided to take over the care and management of their prisoner. She dropped clues regarding the Green Stone while pretending she needed to study the knowledge of the deep to find it. She taught the people groups to trust them and encouraged them to move into the castle to not only guard it, but also take care of their daily needs of food and drink. Within the month, she became his lover, or he became her lover. He could not tell how she had bewitched him.

  “Tell me,” he’d asked her once. “What do they call you? Do you have a name?” The Green People had a naming tradition. The daughter usually took the last syllable of her mother's name. A name would give him a clue to her parentage.

  “You may call me whatever you like.” She’d given him a shy smile. “I will tell you my name on the day you give me yours.”

  He’d frowned, but he hadn’t given in to her charms. His name was sacred. He feared speaking it, lest the people groups hear and discover him alive against all the odds. As for her, he could not understand why she was tight-lipped when it came to her past.

  “Who are your parents?” He lay in bed, propped up on one elbow as he watched her.

  She wore a sheer gown that left nothing to the imagination as she perched on the windowsill with her leather journal in hand. It seemed to be her constant companion. She only wrote in it occasionally, but, from time to time, she studied it. He planned to steal it from her, yet the opportunity eluded him.

  “Does it matter who my parents are…were…” She stumbled over the words, chewing on the end of her quill. “Who are your parents?”

  “I am much older than you. Besides, I have no family.” The truth was all he could give her. She was too young to understand half-truths. “I heard the Green People dwelt solely in the Western World.”

  “They did,” she confirmed, nodding yet refusing to take the bait. “They migrated here after the great war.”

  “But you have always been in the South World?” He knew every face of the Green People, yet he’d never seen hers. Either she’d always been in the South World, or she was new and young. Quite young. He shifted in annoyance.

  “Yes. Where does this line of questioning lead? What are you attempting to guess?”

  “If you had family, we could stay with them in hiding. We could no longer be prisoners within these stone walls.” He gestured to the room that bound them inside. “We could leave, build an army, and throw down the Dark Two who quest for the Green Stone, the ultimate power. You know what will happen if they find the Green Stone, dissolve it, and take the power of creation for themselves.”

  “Yes.” She rose. Leaving her journal by the window, she returned to the bed and straddled him. Placing her hands on his naked shoulders, she stared down at him. “I have been thinking about our dilemma, and since you mention family, I have a solution. It will not be swift, but as you say, ‘Blood of my blood’, one does not betray one's own bloodline. If you had a child, if we had a child, it could be the start of our own army. You are as strong and powerful as am I. Think of what we could accomplish with our own children.”

  She rocked against him as he grabbed her waist, hard enough to bruise her. She hypnotized him with her words. He knew he was an all-powerful being; he should never stoop to mix his blood with those beneath him. She was beneath him, but he was lost, drifting and drowning in her embrace.

  “Children.” He repeated, loathing the word yet recognizing the hope it gave him. “Children will be our allies, and none will suspect them.”

  “Yes.” Her breath came short. “They will complete the deeds. Find power for us. Free us f
rom tyranny. They will be our hope.”

  “Freedom,” he whispered. It would take time. Time he had. And just before he succumbed to pleasure, a plan unfolded and ripened.

  38

  Eliesmore

  Eliesmore awakened lying face down in a pile of damp moss near a bush. He rolled over, blowing leaves out of his face and wrinkling his nose against the rotting smell they gave off. It seemed to be midmorning, and he could hear the gentle snore of his companions. He sat up, counting them with his eyes. In the distance, he could make out what looked like Idrithar, standing with his back to the Green Company. He was hunched over his staff in a way that it appeared he slept standing up. Yamier and Wekin lay near him, back to back, with their hands tucked under their heads as they snored faintly. Zhane was leaning against a tree. Eliesmore could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. Dathiem and Optimistic were sprawled out behind some bushes. Before he could figure out where his female companions were, his stomach rumbled in dissatisfaction.

  Reaching for his pack, he opened it for the first time and peered inside to see what kind of treasures the Mermis had given him. At the top, there was dried meat wrapped in leaves. Eliesmore unfolded one and began to chew; it was salty with hints of hickory. He turned it over on his tongue, unsure how he felt about the taste. A sound made him jump; he looked around. The quiet snores of his companions continued. He took another bite, and then it came again: a hiss and then chattering above him. Eliesmore craned his neck, searching for the source. His eyes spied a booted foot hanging from a tree branch. It moved. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of Glashar’s golden hair. “I just want to talk,” Glashar whispered.