Parting her lips she allowed herself to become lost in his warmth, while threads of passion burst from their skin on skin contact, white lights shattering across the blackness of the night.
22
Zhane
“We should return to the others,” Zhane announced at length as the moon rose over the water, casting a silvery hue across Werivment.
Arldrine rested her head on his chest; he could sense she wanted more from him. It was tempting, yet he wanted more than a quick tryst in the woods. He held her tightly all the same, thankful for the salvation of two of his close friends, even if one was left to the river.
“Who is left?” The joy evaporated from Arldrine’s face as worry creased her forehead. “I saw many concerning things on my way here.”
He sighed, kissing the top of her head before letting go. “There is much to tell you.”
“I saw the footprints on the shore; they faced south, southeast. Tell me.”
He pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders. “The grief is still too close,” he frowned. “It was Dathiem. During the battle of the Constel Heights. We sent his body down the river…” he trailed off, his eyes clouding over in sorrow.
“No,” Arldrine’s hand came up, gripping his wrist. “Not Dathiem.”
“I know you were close to him too,” Zhane nodded as she let go of him, spinning to face the waters. She clasped a hand to her chest and bowed her head, her shoulders hunched forward as she grieved. Zhane moved to stand beside her, joining the moment of silence for their fallen comrade. Unsaid words stretched into darkness as they gazed at the swiftly moving waters. Arldrine crossed her arms, biting her lip before placing a hand on Zhane’s arm.
Goldwind joined them shortly, and after a time they made their way back to camp. Yamier and Wekin had built a fire and perched on boulders, eating, talking and peering warily at the forest. Idrithar was the first to rise when he saw them while Yamier and Wekin stood up and clapped their hands. Their buoyant voices ringing across the water as they welcomed Arldrine back to their company.
The night was cool and silent as they settled down after the excitement, explaining to Arldrine what had taken place since she had left them. Zhane let Idrithar tell Arldrine about the gifts from the Mermis, and one by one they showed her the weapons of the Five Warriors.
“There is a gift for you,” Zhane passed her a quiver full of blue tipped arrows and a bow made of dark wood, its curves carved with symbols. “This is the bow of Legone the Swift, with the quiver that never runs out of arrows. Perhaps the Mermis knew you would return and left this here for you.”
Arldrine took the bow, running her fingers across the grooves of the old carvings before fitting the quiver on her back. “I am not worthy of such a gift.”
“No,” Idrithar agreed. “None of us are. That the weapons of the Five Warriors should come to us at such a time as this is a gracious fortitude.”
“I have a question,” Arldrine sat cross-legged and leaned forward, addressing Idrithar. “Why are you here in Werivment? If Eliesmore and Optimistic are headed to Daygone, we should be with them. At the very least, we should return to the fortress with the Mermis. The west will soon be overrun with woísts, if not already. What is your plan Idrithar? What strategy do you have?”
Idrithar glanced off toward the waters, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This is the question we must all ask ourselves. We have helped Eliesmore accomplish the first quest. The Green Company is no more; we are free to take up our own desires. The Iaen have returned to Shimla; we may go as we please. It is my intention to return to the Eastern Hill Countries and follow Eliesmore to Daygone. If we arrive after him perhaps we help buffet the out-lash from the Dark One. The Mermis are collecting the army at the fortress, ready for Eliesmore’s last march as he takes back the west. If we wish to continue with him, we should meet him there.”
“Will the army be enough?” Arldrine demanded, glancing from Zhane to Idrithar. “I know Eliesmore has the power of the Green Stone, but do we have the numbers we need to vanquish the Black Steeds? And not just to vanquish them, but to retain the power, and keep the balance until the end of time?”
“Arldrine,” Zhane reached out and touched her shoulder, disagreeing with her line of questioning.
“It is doubtful,” Idrithar stroked his beard. “If we can recruit White Steeds during our return to the Eastern Hill Countries, that would be best.”
“Wait,” Wekin interrupted, holding up a finger. “Do you mean to say, we came all the way across the Eastern Hill Countries and the Cascade Mountain Range only to turn around and go back the way we came?” He stared from Idrithar to Zhane, his eyes wide. “I can’t do that! I’m tired.”
“Agreed,” Yamier argued. “We need to rest and relax and hide from the monsters.”
Idrithar’s eyes bored into the two. “It is exactly this line of thinking that likely got the White Steeds into trouble in the first place. We go on regardless of how tired we are. The world is not saved until it is saved. You cannot do partial work, you cannot give a little and sit back and cook and hunt for bacon! If you are part of this, you must commit to the cause and believe with everything you have. And here I thought you two were growing up? Relax, bah,” he practically spat at them.
Wekin crossed his arms, putting his nose in the air. “I wasn’t suggesting we quit; I was just saying, let’s breathe for a while, like we did in Rashla like we did in the Green World. Then get up and fight, I’m all for it. I just need to eat a full meal and to sit down without foul creatures chasing me all day.”
Idrithar stood, folding his arms. “You may find yourself left behind with that sort of thinking.”
“Maybe the dranagins should have eaten him,” Wekin muttered darkly to Yamier.
“Let rest here tonight,” Zhane held out a hand, calming the conversation. “We should discuss further tomorrow.”
“My mind remains made up,” Idrithar remarked. “Arldrine, again, I am thankful your path led you here to us again.”
“Idrithar,” she nodded at him, “it is a relief you escaped from the mountain of fire. These are confusing times; we need your wisdom.”
“Perhaps,” his voice grew gentle, losing the scolding tone he often held when talking to Yamier and Wekin. “Arldrine, you have always had a mind of your own. It is clear you can think for yourself, not persuaded by the wishes and influence of others. I sense you have a mission in mind, and if that should be your desire, you must fulfill it.” He turned, his footsteps guiding him away from them toward a boulder perched close to the river. “I must think for a while,” he called back to them.
“Arldrine,” Wekin leaned forward as soon as Idrithar was out of earshot, his eyes lighting up. “Tell us again how you escaped from the woísts.”
She smiled at him. “Wekin, in the morning. I desire to speak further with Zhane.”
Wekin threw himself down on the rock, stretching while tucking his head behind his eyes. “I suppose I’ll just sleep then.”
Arldrine stood. “Walk with me?” she looked down at Zhane, a small smile playing around her lips.
He followed her, watching the lights of the night entwine and dance around them, lending their light one to another. “What do you want to tell me?” he asked, feeling the desire to reach out, brush her hair off her neck, wrap his arms around her shoulders and kiss her again. It was intoxicating to have her unbound in his arms. He watched the way her eyes softened and turned into pools of heated desire as she met his gaze. Her lips turned upward, begging to be kissed. He thought of what it would be like to unbutton her tunic and let her stand bare before him that he might revel in the worship of her feminine beauty. He allowed his mind to wonder before regaining self-control, bringing himself back to the present moment. They pressed themselves against the trunk of a tree, settling in the green blanket of grass across from the rushing waters. He pulled her to his chest, kissing her head as the waves churned before them. Now and then, white motes
would appear and wink off into the darkness, lighting up the deepness of the night.
Arldrine pulled away for a moment, watching his face. “I have more to tell you, about the time I spent in the mountains,” she offered. Then she went on, telling him of the spirit of the tree that had awoken and what it had said to her. “I believe what is happening to us, between us, now, is because of happened at the tree.”
“Do you think the tree gave you power?”
“I am not sure. Something happened when I was there; my foot healed although the tree claimed true power resides within the Rulers of the West, whoever they might be. Now that I think about it, glimmers of white have always surrounded us. I think it’s because I’ve always held you at arm’s length, I didn’t know how to let you in, but now something has awakened, and it is unstoppable.”
In response, he held out his hand, and when their palms touched the electrifying explosion melded around them. Arldrine gasping in awe. “These wonders never cease to amaze me,” she admitted.
Leaning forward he tilted back her head, his hand cupping her cheeks as he kissed her again. She tasted like mystery and intrigue; he wanted more.
23
Eliesmore
Flywinger bobbed his head in uncertainty as they rounded the mound. Optimistic led the way with the disheveled siblings behind him. Eliesmore brought up the rear as he held the lion cub, rubbing his face against the soft fur.
“Flywinger, all is well,” Optimistic called, beckoning Flywinger to join them. “We have new friends.”
Skip and Bruthen shifted from foot to foot, wary of the size of Flywinger. Eliesmore gave them an encouraging nod, suddenly grateful for the addition of new White Steeds.
“They should ride,” Optimistic lowered his voice, addressing Eliesmore. “We can walk, but they are in no shape…”
“Aye,” Skip interrupted. “We can hear you.”
Optimistic’s face brightened as he turned back to them, offering them leaves of murthweeld. “Would you like to ride? Skip? Bruthen? It would be easier. Eliesmore and I are well rested, we can travel quickly on our feet.”
“We can take care of ourselves…” Skip began.
“We accept,” Bruthen interrupted, a hand curling around his wounded side. “Skip,” he whispered to his sister. “I can’t travel far with this wound. And what if more of the Traders are out here? We can’t fight them off. What happened back there at the cave was a lucky mistake.”
“You don’t have to explain yourselves,” Optimistic offered, walking up to Flywinger. “Ride with us for a time out of trouble. You are free to leave at any time.”
“Thank you,” Skip said suddenly, her eyes growing round. “There are not many like you. No one has tried to help us before.”
Optimistic introduced the pair to Flywinger before they resumed their journey east. The lion cub in Eliesmore’s arms whimpered once more before it settled into a peaceful sleep. The rise and fall of its gentle heartbeat lulled Eliesmore, and he found peace encapsulating him. Flywinger strode through the weaving grass, and wherever they went the wildflowers hurled petals at them as if welcoming them to a secret world. When Eliesmore listened, he heard the voices of the creatures exclaiming in surprise, welcoming the coming of the One and spreading the message. The words to “Song” flittered through his mind. They will come out and rejoice.
The friendly wind returned, blowing over them, whispering hidden secrets they could not understand in their ears. After a while, Bruthen’s voice drifted to Eliesmore’s ears. “You are really the One? Did you truly dissolve the Green Stone?”
“Yes,” Eliesmore looked up at the siblings, realizing for the first time no one had heard the story. “Optimistic,” an idea came to him, a reminder of words Optimistic himself had spoken. Sharing their story, one to another, would build trust between them. He could tell by the way Bruthen hunched over Flywinger’s neck, and Skip’s eyes moved back and forth. They were frightened, concerned whether they’d made the right choice in trusting Eliesmore and Optimistic. Deception was rampant in the South World, and he needed to offer a way for the newcomers to trust him.
“We should tell them our story,” Optimistic picked up Eliesmore’s threads of conversation.
“How did you meet?” Skip lifted her chin as if the words were difficult to say.
Eliesmore paused, glancing at Optimistic, visions of his horrific nightmare in the Torsilo Quarts fleeing through his mind.
“We met in the forests of Shimla,” Optimistic said. “Where the mythical Iaens live.” He went on, telling the story about the Green Company and their adventures traveling to the Constel Heights. Eliesmore chimed in where appropriate, remembering the time when he was full of fear, wondering how he could be the One before he made his choice.
The siblings listened in silence, their eyes lighting up from time to time as Eliesmore and Optimistic told their story, skipping over the dark moments when they lost members of their company, and the Rakhai chased them into certain death. In the end, when Eliesmore spoke of dissolving the Green Stone, Flywinger paused and turned, allowing them a moment of reverence as they gazed on the Green Light. As if waiting for that moment to pass, the lion cub struggled in Eliesmore’s arms and awoke with a whimper of terror.
“It’s hungry,” Optimistic offered, “we need to feed it. I hope it is done with its mother’s milk for we will not find such substances out here.”
“What should we feed it?” Eliesmore knelt, lifting the cub from his shoulder onto the ground.
The lion cub sat back on its hunches. “Who are you?”
Eliesmore held out his hand, watching the lion cub sniff it before responding. “I am Eliesmore, and these are my companions,” he gave a vague wave toward Optimistic, Flywinger, Skip, and Bruthen. “What is your name?”
The lion cub lifted its liquid eyes to meet Eliesmore’s, a sudden fear crossing its innocent gaze. “Are you Black Steeds?”
“Nay,” Eliesmore felt a laugh at the corner of his mouth, yet he regained his solemnness. “I am Eliesmore of the Jeweled Sword.” Pausing his speech for a moment, he showed the tiny beast his hilt. “I came to save the world; you were lost and lonely, we shall be your friends and take you to a new home. The home of the White Steeds. Would you like to come with us?”
The lion cub swung his head from side to side, eyeing his new companions, although he did not have a choice. “Where is my mother?”
Eliesmore’s shoulders slumped. Biting his lip, he leaned closer to the small beast. “We don’t have mothers, none of us, because of the Black Steeds. They come to destroy; they take our families, our mothers and fathers, we have nothing left except for each other. We are a new family, one not of blood, but of friendship. We tell our stories one to another, and share our hearts, that’s what strengthens us. We hold on to hope that there will be great days ahead of us, better days, and those who lay down their lives did not do so in vain. We came to save the South World, and with salvation comes sacrifice. The road we walk is difficult, we have come through dark days, yet I see nothing but light ahead. If you come with us, if you walk in the light with us, you shall see better days. We all hold a grief close to our hearts, and we have a choice. We can let that grief destroy us, or let it make us stronger. What will you choose?” Although Eliesmore directed his words to the lion cub, in truth, he was speaking to the newfound White Steeds, Skip, and Bruthen. He lifted his eyes from the lion cub and found the two staring at him. A flush covered Skip’s face while Bruthen’s held an open yet surprised expression.
“I will come,” the lion cub said, overwhelmed by Eliesmore’s words and hoping they would come to a halt.
“Good,” Eliesmore reached out a hand to stroke the lion cub’s head. It moved forward, a low rumble emitting from its throat. “What is your name?”
“I don’t have a name.”
“May I give you a name?” Eliesmore asked, attempting not to be presumptuous.
The lion cub stood on all fours, moving its small head
up and down.
Eliesmore glanced at Optimistic who stood quite still, watching the interaction. “What should his name be, Optimistic?”
“Something in Iaen,” Optimistic replied, lifting his face toward the sun. “His fur shines like the light, reminding us of hope, reminding us the future lies before us.”
“Light,” Eliesmore repeated while Optimistic hummed the words to a new song, and Skip and Bruthen glanced from Optimistic to Eliesmore. Flywinger snorted and tossed his mane, prancing in place. “Light,” Eliesmore whispered, lost in thought. He was reminded of his dream, where the lights of the forests of Shimla shone forth in rainbow colors, and he wondered what it meant. “I hereby bestow thee the name Lythe. Lythe the Lion of the Monoxie Meadows.”
24
Zhane
Zhane woke in a cold sweat, his dream running through his memory. He sat up, his heart pounding and his hair plastered to his neck. He leaped upward, spinning around as he determined which direction he needed to run.
“Zhane,” he heard Arldrine’s voice from the riverbank. “What’s wrong?”
He held up a finger and tore in the opposite direction shouting. “Idrithar! Idrithar! Wake up; you have to get up right now. We have to go. We have to stop Eliesmore.”
“What?” Idrithar rose on an elbow, his long hair flowing to his shoulders. He raised a hand. “Calm down. What are you talking about?”
“Daygone!” Zhane breathed, unable to rip the words out of his throat fast enough. “The trap is Daygone. I had a vision; everything is part of one grand scheme. The Rakhai, the Changers, the request to go to Daygone. They have brainwashed him. The Green People, the Iaen, they are behind everything. We have to stop Eliesmore from going to Daygone. They will turn him; they will get what they want.”
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 113
