He rolled to her feet, and when he reached her robes his paralyzed body came alive, but it was too late. She lifted the pitchfork and plunged it into his heart so quickly Eliesmore did not have a chance to blink. Optimistic gave a gurgle and a cough, spewing blood across his body, the pitchfork, and the robes of the Dark Figure. She plucked it out of him, like picking a feather from a defenseless bird, while blood rushed from her face, turning it white as she faced Eliesmore, a grimace of horror coming over her face.
“Look what you made me do,” she gestured to the broken body and the blood splatter, spoiling the sacredness of the chamber.
Eliesmore opened his arms as the anger, pain, fear, and sorrow wailed up within him. “Take it.” His voice rang flat and distant in his ears. “It is too much.”
He let go, and the power surged out of him. Green and gold flames poured from every inch of his body, stretching out their wings to take flight. Sarphimm dropped her pitchfork. It thudded twice on the stones before lying still, the wicked edges pointing in a western direction. She opened her mouth, sucking in the power, inhaling as if it were her life force, but the power flow overwhelmed her, it was not enough. She opened her hands and spread her arms, mirroring Eliesmore’s stance, and the power poured into her. As it flowed, her body grew, stretching to take in her newfound abilities as light filled the room in a cyclone of swirls.
Eliesmore closed his eyes, letting the power drain out of him as tears streamed down his face. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. When he’d set out, he saw himself rising victorious, smashing down the Changers with the Jeweled Sword and the power of the Green Stone. Now, his chest hurt and he wanted to scream, sob, and tear at her, but his body will not obey him. He attempted to move but he could not. He stood frozen in place, solid, while the Dark Figure crowed over her victory, taking all.
He could not tell how much time passed before he opened his eyes and saw a white spirit appear, the soul of Léthin the Optimistic. It floated out of the crimson, torn body, a hand over the place where the heart would have been if it had a heart anymore. Eliesmore saw Optimistic’s eyes, those deep, kind eyes. The head nodded at him, and a hand waved, allowing peace to permeate the air. Eliesmore watched as his heart caved in and broke, he heard the sound of a thousand glass chimes breaking and falling as his friend disappeared into the void, on the road to paradise, the Pillars of Creation, the Beyond. As he faded, a thought came to Eliesmore. He was alone. Hope was gone. Nothing mattered anymore.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, searching for the darkness that ruined him, undoing the chains that kept it at bay, kept the rage from overtaking it. He found the pain, fear, torture, sorrow, and all the emotions he blamed on the Changers, the Monrages, and the Black Steeds. He let his emotions flow, the weight of being the One, the burden of saving the Four Worlds, the cries of the lost, the dead, the hopeless, the oppressed, the downtrodden, the beat down. He took all the hate, revenge, and darkness, and channeled it into the Dark Figure. The stream of light pouring from his body changed from emerald green and gold to ivy black and blood red. The purity of the air turned to a dark rot, a foul odor overtaking the chamber.
An uneasy scream pierced the air as Sarphimm twisted in fury, thrusting her body away from the fatal combination of light and dark. Eliesmore opened his eyes as the sharp, high cry pierced his ears, and as he watched, he understood. Light and dark cannot inhabit one creature, one vessel. Light and dark do not dwell together in the same place. Eventually one will overcome the other, and if it doesn’t, it will destroy that which it seeks to contain.
The revelation flooded over him, and he continued to let it out until the Dark Figure could take no more. Her body transformed, reeking of darkness as the Green Light engulfed her. Fire and ash leak from her transformed body. She opened her mouth and darkness poured out, a volcano of red lava spewed across the tower. Eliesmore held his ground as light and darkness poured out of him, his throat turned raw, as if knives were inside him, ripping up his insides. Tears streamed down his face, and his legs trembled as the true form of the Dark Figure rose, towering over him, red eyes, bright as ruby before they turned back. A tentacle-like hand came out, reaching, attempting to break the circle of light which held her prisoner. Her tail snaked out, swinging in iron determination to break the force of light, but it was too late, and she burst apart.
Sparks flew across the room as her bloated spirit exploded. Eliesmore lifted his hands and let the light of the Green Stone consume her soul, consume the last sparks of energy until she was nothing but ash. The Green Light swirled around the room, licking up the ashes, catching them in a vortex and hurling them into the fountain where the Green Stone was dissolved. A thunderclap struck the air, and the ground shook as the open portals of the chamber closed. Eliesmore stumbled, his legs giving way at last. He collapsed to the ground, reaching out for Optimistic’s hand. It was cold. His spirit had gone. His body was empty. There’s nothing left for him, his mind sunk into the void and he collapsed into unconsciousness.
He woke up disoriented and sat up. His hands were red and shaking from the exertion, his clothes had burned away in places, and his eyes felt heavy, sticky. His throat was raw, and his head felt as if a boulder was pressing on it, squeezing him. He rose to a kneeling position, turning toward the basin. White creatures had risen out of the basin, and they stood still, their hair weaving around their bodies on a secret wind. The Truth Tellers. Eliesmore stared at them, but there is no emotion left within him, no surprise or shock or worry.
“It is finished,” he croaked out, a stabbing pain shooting through his body, making him regret speaking.
“The price of death has been paid,” they spoke in unison, gesturing to what used to be Optimistic’s body. “Ask of us.”
90
Eliesmore
After the Truth Tellers disappeared, back to the in-between, Eliesmore sat on his knees in the room, until time faded. The Green Light shone in the opening above him, but other than the light, he could not tell how much time passed. A cleansing rain began, and the ringing sound faded from his ears. He lifted his face to the light as white motes floated down from the heavens like snow, covering the room in its glory, cleansing it from the horror and shame of what happened there. Eliesmore’s legs shook when he stood.
A glimmer caught his eyes and as he moved toward it, he saw the round shape of the Phutal lying discarded on the chamber floors. As he limped toward it, another glimmer caught his eyes, and he saw the Jeweled Sword lying on the altar. Despite his tormented soul, a feeling similar to relief swept through him, and he scooped up the Phutal, squeezing his fist around it as he reclaimed the Jeweled Sword. When he lifted the hilt, the jewels danced on it, as if expressing gratitude they were back in his hands, where they were meant to be. He sheathed his sword and stood tall, throwing his shoulders back as he lifted the Phutal in both hands to examine in. Colors hushed through his eyes, a blend of swirling glimmers calling to him as worlds beyond imagination whisked into view. He felt a strange urge to command it to open, to take him away from the tormented world he sought to save.
A power rushed over him, and when he peered deeper, he saw an array of landscapes drift past him, cold mountains, lush meadows, the wind lady dancing, green Zikes bowing, a rich red canyon with a horde running out of a waterfall and a green world filled with an enchanted mist. He saw the Light of Shalidir as it hung in the air and a great beast roared as it stretched its wings and captured the Great Clyear in its teeth. He saw a dark forest and a lady dressed in black wailing, and when she lifted her face, he saw she looked like one of the Rakhai. A horned shadow walked through the woods, lifted up its head and roared.
A dozen memories shattered and burst and when Eliesmore came to, he realized he saw the past. An aura snapped and danced around him as he held the Phutal along with the knowledge he could open a portal, step through, and the Four Worlds would know no more of Eliesmore the One, Eliesmore the Great Conqueror. The temptation danced over his mi
nd and he waited, leaning forward, willing to taste the forbidden fruit. It seemed those he’d fought to save; he’d lost.
Instead, he dropped the Phutal around his neck and tucked it under his shirt. It stung when it touched his bare skin, and he shivered in acknowledgment. Walking to the chamber doors he opened them, and on the other side, he saw the Rulers of the West.
Zhane and Arldrine stood before him, weapons in hand, with the Therian and Tribe of Minas behind them. Idrithar and Indonesia stood to the side with the army of Mermis, Crons, and Tiders behind them. Yamier and Wekin stood with them, looking rather wind-blown while Skip and Bruthen stood beside them, eyes wide in alarm. Eliesmore realized they were all there as he saw Visra and Captain Elidar, Wyndler and Trecon, Mattio and Sir Regante. They stood like statues, waiting, but Zhane and Arldrine were clothed in white light, a confirmation of what the Truth Tellers had told him. He held open the door although they did not seem to want to enter. They glanced at him and looked past him to the room where light swept away the sins of the past.
“It is done,” he managed to say.
Arldrine lifted a hand, an indescribable look passing over her face. She put a hand on his shoulder, and Zhane put a hand on his other shoulder. They pulled him forward, and before Eliesmore could protest or question their actions, they wrapped him in an embrace. The white light stung as it held him, but he recognized the hope they poured into him, nothing but hope and gratitude, and when they pulled back, a heavy silence swept over Castle Range as they realized the magnitude of what they had accomplished and how much more they had to rebuild.
It was midnight before all the bodies were ashes and white bone was buried underground. A great ceremony was held for Léthin the Optimistic. A tombstone was set and above it read:
Here lies Léthin the Optimistic.
A White Steed.
A member of the Green Company.
Keeper of the Green Stone.
Unselfish. Loyal. Optimistic. Encouraging.
The best friend anyone could ever have.
The tombstone was a beautiful piece of stone Wekin had hunted up, and everyone who read it wept. Eliesmore was reminded of the sorrow he felt, and a vague emptiness hovered inside him. The White Steeds returned to the castle, mourning the loss of many comrades in the face of evil, yet looking forward to a new dawn without the evil hands of the Changers guiding the future of the Four Worlds.
One evening when the world was still and quiet, those who remained of the Green Company crept outside to pay a visit to the tomb of Optimistic. There was Idrithar with Zhane and Arldrine. Visra stood between Yamier and Wekin. They folded their hands, bowed their heads, and voiced something that Optimistic was remembered for.
“The day we found him,” Idrithar’s compelling tone danced through the night air, “he was being Optimistic even then because he had fallen in with White Steeds instead of Black Steeds.”
“I taught him how to shoot,” Zhane spoke up. “He was straight and sure of himself, with an inner confidence not found in many. He was encouraging, he always had a good word to say about everybody.”
“He always hoped for the best, even in the face of failure,” Arldrine mused.
“He weaved the lore of the world into prose in a way even an Idrain cannot do,” Visra’s usually harsh voice held a hint of gentleness.
“He liked me, for all the trouble I made,” Wekin cast his head down.
“Aye,” Yamier whispered. “He helped us become part of the Green Company, even if he did tease us badly about it.”
“He was unselfish, always giving even if he got nothing back,” Eliesmore added, lifting his eyes toward the Green Light. “He was always there. Always.”
Their tones fell into a mute silence in respect of those lost. Holding each other together, even in sorrow, they thought of the Green Company and all they had done together. Eliesmore recalled the happy times when they had escaped from the Rakhai and had a moment of bliss to eat a warm meal and talk and laugh. There were frightful times, like passing through the Holesmoles, and the heartbreaking times, when they assumed Idrithar and Arldrine were lost and dead. Together they had endured the bitter and the sweet, seeing the world restored because of their actions.
It was Visra who lifted her voice and began the lament, and as the flags of the White Steeds rippled over Castle Range, their voices blended in mournful tones of despair mingled with hope.
Eliesmore held his sorrow close, knowing all the while he would need to be strong for others. They had seen him fail once and now they needed to see his strength and glory amid a difficult victory. Yet he missed Optimistic with all his heart. Each time he turned around, he expected Optimistic to be at his elbow. He often started talking and found it was into thin air.
“When the world was evil, it was wonderful,” he lamented to himself. “For the Green Company was all together. When the world is restored, it is sad, for the Green Company is no more.”
One morning, Eliesmore went to greet the day and walk the long halls. When he came to the end, there was a great room with all the warriors and fellow members of the White Steeds. Those who were left from the Black Steeds stood in chains, looking upon him. When he walked in they raised their voices and pumped this fists into the air. One cry came out, ringing above all. “Eliesmore. The Great Conqueror. The Great Conqueror. Eliesmore. Eliesmore. Eliesmore!”
He held up his hand as he walked into the chambers, noting the way his companions stood. Zhane and Arldrine stood on a slight rise in the room, surrounded by the Therian and Tribe of Minas who were standing or reclining in turn, silently watching the on goings in the room. A great crowd of Crons and Tiders, those from the army and those who had joined from Sidell stood with bright, expectant faces, looking toward Eliesmore. Idrithar stood with his arms crossed, a frown deepening on his face.
“Be our king!” shouted a Cron.
“Yes, be our king!” another voice cried and shouts swept across the hall in a monstrous uproar.
An uneasy niggling began in Eliesmore, and he raised his hand, a bitter hollowness in the back of his throat, like the aftertaste of poison. “No,” he spoke up with a firmness in his voice. “I cannot be your king. I must go on to other countries and free them. All lands must be gained for the White Steeds, and the people groups must know the rule of the Dark Three has ended. Evil has been receded. The White Steeds have full control and freedom.”
“And Eliesmore the Great Conqueror has risen!”
“The One is among us!”
Voices rang out and once again the people shouted.
Dismay washed over Eliesmore as he held his hands, waving in front of them. “This is a new era, there will be new Rulers in this land, but first we must rebuild in the Constel Heights, and all other cities we travel to. We must be patience, we must work together in harmony, and I will work as one of you. For instruction report to the wise ones among us, many of you know Idrithar the Wise, Zhane the Warrior and Arldrine the Ezinck. They are the ones you should look toward for instruction as we enter the days of peace and rebuild the South World, a place where the White Steeds thrive and evil is destroyed before it can take root. There will come a time when I will leave, and those who wish may come with me, to conqueror other cities, for now, it is a time to rebuild.”
Cheers erupted around the hall, and Eliesmore turned away as a strange bitterness rose within him while the world rejoiced.
91
Eliesmore
Three Months Later.
Time weaved a blanket of magic through the land as Castle Range recovered from the war-torn castle, the demise of the Dark Figure and the rise of the Rulers of the West. Idrithar, Zhane and Arldrine divided the people into groups and instructed them in the restructuring and rebuilding of Castle Range. They worked through the castle, destroying anything that remained of the Dark Figure, the Black Steeds, and the rule of the Changers. The prisoners, those who fought for the Black Steeds were set free. Some were remorseful and claimed they had been bli
nded. They begged to work with the White Steeds. Captain Elidar volunteered to watch over them since he was one who was used to dealing with prisoners and changing the minds of individuals. Others refused to express remorse and mumbled on about the Way of Phimm. They were put under guard and set to work to fulfill their crimes against the White Steeds. There were some who were slain for stirring up trouble, and thus, little by little, the people groups began to rebuild.
Although he was the Great Conqueror, Eliesmore did not refrain from throwing himself into the work of the day, sorrow and knowledge a heavy burden he bore. He was reluctant to move on when he knew there was more he had yet to do, yet it seemed comfortable to remain in once place and grieve. He observed the way Yamier and Wekin rose to a position of leadership, with the four Crons, Skip, Bruthen, Wyndler and Trecon. Eventually, Eliesmore noted the Tider, Sir Regante, became one of his constant companions, and a new respect grew in him for the way Captain Elidar handled the prisoners. As they worked together, Eliesmore found something like an acceptance come over him, and he knew a time would come when he would leave, and they would come with him.
The Mermis and the Silver Herd stayed, while the Zikes disappeared into the meadows of Monoxie, waiting for a time when Eliesmore would call for their assistance. He was a bit wary of the Zikes and found his mind reaching out to them frequently, for he knew of their original allegiance, and it troubled him.
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 139
