The Four Worlds Series
An Epic Fantasy Saga: Book 4
Angela J. Ford
Contents
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword
Long May You Live
1. Legone
2. Eliesmore
3. Zhane
4. Ellagine
5. Eliesmore
6. Optimistic
7. Eliesmore
8. Zhane
9. Ellagine
10. Idrithar
11. Visra
12. Sarhorr
13. Idrithar
14. Arldrine
15. Eliesmore
16. Sarhorr
17. Eliesmore
18. Eliesmore
19. Arldrine
20. Zhane
21. Arldrine
22. Zhane
23. Eliesmore
24. Zhane
25. Yamier
26. Arldrine
27. Eliesmore
28. Idrithar
29. Sarphimm
30. Idrithar
31. Eliesmore
32. Sarhorr
33. Eliesmore
34. Sarhorr
35. Eliesmore
36. Eliesmore
37. Idrithar
38. Arldrine
39. Wekin
40. Arldrine
41. Eliesmore
42. Ellagine
43. Sarhorr
44. Ellagine
46. Ellagine
47. Visra
48. Eliesmore
49. Eliesmore
50. Eliesmore
51. Eliesmore
52. Ellagine
53. Eliesmore
54. Idrithar
55. Eliesmore
56. Eliesmore
57. Arldrine
58. Optimistic
59. Eliesmore
60. Eliesmore
61. Eliesmore
62. Indonesia
63. Idrithar
64. Eliesmore
65. Zhane
66. Eliesmore
67. Zhane
68. Eliesmore
69. Eliesmore
70. Arldrine
71. Eliesmore
72. Arldrine
73. Zhane
74. Eliesmore
75. Arldrine
76. Eliesmore
77. Eliesmore
78. Idrithar
79. Wekin
80. Visra
81. Idrithar
82. Wekin
83. Visra
84. Eliesmore
85. Wekin
86. Wekin
87. Arldrine
88. Eliesmore
89. Eliesmore
90. Eliesmore
91. Eliesmore
92. Eliesmore
93. Eliesmore
94. Wekin
95. Eliesmore
96. Eliesmore
97. Eliesmore
98. Eliesmore
99. Idrithar
100. Eliesmore
101. Ellagine
102. Shalidir
103. Eliesmore
104. Afterward
Thank You
Acknowledgments
Also by Angela J. Ford
Recommended Epic Fantasy Books
About the Author
Copyright © 2018 Angela J. Ford
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by HellYes.Design
Edited by Todd Barselow, The Bookish Fox, Red Rose Author Services and Pinpoint Editing
www.TheFourWorldsSeries.com
Created with Vellum
Also by Angela J. Ford
The Five Warriors
The Blended Ones
Eliesmore and the Green Stone
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword
Tales of the Four Worlds
Myran
Join the email list for new releases and more. Go to TheFourWorldsSeries.com
To my four hilarious sisters, Dorthea, Annie, Rebecca and Katrina, for being persistent enough to have an entire fantasy world created just for them.
Eliesmore and the Jeweled Sword
The Four Worlds Series Book 4
“Long may you live
Long may you prosper
Spread your seed far and wide
May your bloodline
The new breed
Grow ever strong
Blood of the undying
Blood of the immortal
Blood of the mortals
Blood of my blood
Long may you live
Long may you prosper
You shall walk in the light
You shall walk in the dark
You will blend with the air and land
Of shadows and sorrow
Of love and light
Of mischief and mayhem
Long may you live
Long may you prosper”
1
Legone
Year 762. (181 years ago). The South World.
“The Green Stone,” he echoed in awe. “It holds the power of creation?”
“Maybe, we do not know what it can do,” his wife replied as she took the Clyear of Power from his hands. “My love, I have many things to tell you.”
In reply, he draped his free arm around her waist as he caressed her hair. When he drew back his eyes were dark, swimming with desire. “Tell me,” he whispered, stealing a kiss from her lips.
Her cool fingers brushed his cheek, climbing his face to tuck loose hairs behind his ear. “Do you trust me?”
He pulled her hips against his until there was no space between them. “After all we have been through, you ask me this?” His eyes roamed her face, searching for answers.
“What did you do with the Ruler?”
He froze, shades of fear rippled over his face. He opened his mouth, intending to answer her question with another question, yet the intense look on her face made him pause. “How dare you ruin our reunion with that demon,” he frowned, his voice more unhappy than angry. “If you must know I captured his spirit in the Boleck and dropped it into the transformative waters.”
“Did you see it,” she demanded with calm insistence. “Did you see it sink and dissolve, was it destroyed?”
Shocked registered on his face as he stared, unseeing, past her. Suddenly, he dropped the grip he held on her. He stumbled away, fear clouded his sight. “No,” he whispered. “No.” He spun to face her. “Paleidir,” he pleaded. “Tell me, be honest with me. What do you know?”
Paleidir’s head dropped, she uttered her next words like one in great pain. “It is likely he is not dead then. Legone, there is more. He was not the only Changer. The others are here, in the South World.”
Legone collapsed to his knees in the sand, shaking his head. “This cannot be.” He felt her hand on his shoulder as she walked past him, into the waves. She lifted the Clyear of Power and began to chant. As Legone watched, the crystal winged horse spread its wings and took flight from her fingers. It had not gone more than a few feet when it dissolved into fine mist and dropped into the waters. He stood in confusion. “What did you do?”
She twirled and flung hers
elf into his arms and buried her head in his chest. He could feel her shaking, and her green shimmer overwhelmed him. “It is done.” She lifted her head, touching her forehead to his. “I destroyed the Clyear of Power. None can use its power, and it will not return until it finds the Jeweled Sword. The only weapon that can destroy a Changer.”
“And that will be our salvation?” Legone confirmed. “How long will it take?”
Paleidir kissed him hard, twining her hands through his hair, pulling him toward her as if she wished they were one and the same. “At least two hundred years, time we cannot waste.”
“Will we leave? Will we run from this land?” Legone asked. “I think I could bear anything, as long as I am with you.”
She sighed as she kissed him again. “No, my love. We have to stay. We are going to have a child.”
“A child,” he murmured, smiling. Reaching down he ran his hands over her belly, searching for a sign of the child to be. “I thought it was impossible.”
“It is forbidden, not impossible. We shall have the first Blended One.”
“Did you do this for me?”
“Yes,” she kissed his neck. “Yes, I was not sure you would return to me. I needed something, someone, in case you did not.”
“And your people, the Green People, they will not drive us into exile for ignoring their laws?”
She laughed, the laugh he remembered with the silvery bells in it. “I am Queen of the Green People now, and you are my King. Our word is law.”
Doubt poked at him, forcing his next words. “They say Blended Ones are evil; there is a reason it is forbidden.”
Paleidir wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her nose bumping against his. “Blended Ones are good and evil. They will be the downfall of this world and its salvation. The One will be a Blended One.”
2
Eliesmore
Year 943. Present Day. Castle Range.
Eliesmore stared in horror as the arrows flew toward him. The seconds seemed to crawl as he watched almost as if he were only a spectator. Why had the Changer let him dissolve the Green Stone? Had the Changer stood there with his army, watching and waiting? Could the Changer hear what the Truth Tellers told him? Why the archers? And what should he do?
Although he knew he possessed the power of the Green Stone, he did not understand how to use it to fight a Changer. Why hadn’t he asked Idrithar or Ellagine when he had the chance? Now he was alone, and unsure what to do. In the moment of indecision, Eliesmore remembered his cloak. Hurling himself to the ground, he flung the hood of his cloak over his head as the pointed shafts of arrows shattered around him.
After a second, he assumed it was safe and stood up, allowing the cloak to slip from his shoulders. The Crons stared at their arrows, pinpointing the chamber although none of them had wounded Eliesmore. A volley of awed whispers hushed across the room as the Crons pointed at him. A green glow still bathed the chamber, and when Eliesmore lifted his hand, he saw waves of emerald green glowing on it. Making a fist, he watched with curiosity as the light resettled around him, reminding him of his purpose, reminding him who he was. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes as he stared up, past the rows of Crons to the highest balcony where the horned shadow watched him. He had come to save the Four Worlds, to bring life and hope to all. The Black Steeds were not his enemies, they could be saved. Drawing the Jeweled Sword, he held it out and watched the spires of light catch the jewels and spin a prism of color across the chamber.
“Look!” he shouted, and it seemed his voice was louder and deeper than before. “My name is Eliesmore. I am the One. The Great Conqueror. I hold the Jeweled Sword. I dissolved the Green Stone. I am not your enemy, the Changers are. So run. Run for your lives. Run for freedom and hope. Run. Let me face my enemy. Our enemy. The battle. This battle. Is mine!”
He felt every word ring in his soul yet an Iaen command poked his mind, begging to be said, wanting to be let out. A command whose meaning he could not understand. Sheathing the Jeweled Sword, he ran, springing for the balconies and climbed. His fingers moved faster than before, and the railing was easy to hold onto. When he reached the first balcony, the Crons retreated, dropping their bows as they turned and fled. As he climbed he heard it, a deep vibrant tone, unspoken, yet felt. An evil permuted the air.
“Hold your ground!” The voice of a mortal roared. “Stand firm. It is only one Cron. He is not stronger than the Dark Servant. We will win this day!”
Despite the command, the archers continued to flee, some shouting and shrieking in fear as Eliesmore climbed. Streaks of green light flowed out behind him. He was halfway up when a bolt struck him. It slammed into his side, tossing him into midair and hurling him downwards. Fingers reaching out he grabbed for something, yet his hands only felt light, and he fell back down toward the depths of the chambers. His mouth opened, and a yell bellowed out of his throat as the knowledge that such a fall from such a height would kill a mortal. The stones seemed to rise to meet him and, although he was not on the ground yet, he felt the tower quake. Bows and arrows fell in a myriad, some splashing onto the basin, bouncing off of its curved sides. Light unfurled as his body smacked the stone floor. He landed flat on his back, his breath forsaking his body with a whoosh. Tilting his head back, he waited for the blur of pain which would make him scream. After a long minute, his breath came back, burning his lungs. He gasped as he sat up, surprised to sense other than some scratches, he seemed unharmed. Gingerly he got to his feet, taking in the now empty balconies. A moment later, the ground shook again, and a horned wolf landed in front of him, holding a pitchfork.
A cold dread formed around Eliesmore’s heart as he fixed his eyes on the creature, knowing with certainty the Dark Servant stood in front of him. There were no tales which described the true form of a Changer. Changers were known for taking the appearance of a mortal, yet the creature that stood before Eliesmore did not bear a resemblance to any mortal.
The face of a gray wolf rose before Eliesmore while obsidian eyes without pupils glared at him. The Dark Servant stood on two hind legs. The rest of its body taking on the form of a massive mortal with thick legs, a broad chest, and immense arms. In one hand, it held a pitchfork that was so black Eliesmore felt his eyes were drowning in it. Hints of a shadow seemed to crawl over the three-pronged weapon, and as the Dark Servant thumped it against the stone, red sparks exploded from it.
As he stepped back, Eliesmore noticed that instead of ears the beast had two horns that curved forward. The Dark Servant threw back his head and howled, the drawn-out whine sending a shiver down Eliesmore’s bruised spine. The Dark Servant pounded his chest with a furry, clawed hand, stamped the pitchfork once and howled again.
Eliesmore stumbled as he backed away, one foot falling into the deep crevices of the Light of Shalidir. As he regained his balance, the Dark Servant charged. Eliesmore leaped out of the way before the curved horns could skewer him and lifted his sword. He wanted to engage the monster in a dialogue to determine where the Phutal was, but the beast roared again and charged.
Angling the Jeweled Sword across his body, Eliesmore held the hilt with both hands as he prepared to swing. Standing with his feet apart, he braced himself, noting green motes of light encased the sword. As the Dark Servant attacked, Eliesmore swung the Jeweled Sword. The creature feinted at the last moment, dodging away from the perilous blade and driving the pitchfork toward Eliesmore’s side. Eliesmore bent his body away from the blow, but instead of ducking from the Dark Servant, he leaned into his next move.
The Dark Servant growled as the sword swung dangerously close to his fur. His mouth parted, revealing curved, yellow fangs, dripping with long strings of salvia. Before Eliesmore could react, the Dark Servant brought the butt of the pitchfork up and slammed it into Eliesmore’s gut.
Eliesmore flew backward, surprised at the force of the blow. Once again, he was hurled to the ground, and this time he felt the skin on his back split open as he slid against the stone floor. Suppressing
a moan, he forced himself back to his feet and ran forward. Lifting his sword behind his head, he jumped into the air and swung.
Shards of light ripped off the ground as the Jeweled Sword cut into the handle of the pitchfork, sending a jagged streak of red and green through the room. Claws shot up, ripping the air in front of Eliesmore’s face as the Dark Servant fought back. This time Eliesmore snatched back the Jeweled Sword and swung again, knowing he would miss. Even as the pitchfork blocked his sword, he continued the onslaught, encouraged by the light flickering around him. The beast raised its soulless eyes, confident as it parried and thrust, circling Eliesmore in a fatal game of blades.