The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  “Tell the commander I am in the southern tower!” Froamb shouted.

  Then he broke company. The Horctura had erected ladders all across the wall with many hundreds of torches in the valley below, waiting to ascend. The soldiers of Forthura engaged them on the wall while others in the northern and southern towers fired from above. Sheabor and Straiah unsheathed their swords and sprinted into battle.

  Meanwhile, the three Suriyans, having each been given a weapon, retreated back inside the palace, along with Pallin and Estrien. The table had been cleared of food and drink, and the five hovered around it, listening to the sounds floating in through the open window. They said little, anxiously awaiting the conclusion of the battle. Estrien took out her three weapons and laid them on the table. Durian gazed at them intently; he had never seen such beautifully decorated weaponry.

  She carried a bow of pure white color, ornately carved from a wood unfamiliar to Durian. Her dagger and a sword proved equally fine, and perhaps more so. For jewels of deep purple had been set into each. Estrien, seeing his interest, extended the handle of her sword to him.

  Durian took the sword in hand. The handle was of precious metal – silver and brass – inlaid with four purple jewels. The pommel of the sword, likewise, contained a matchless purple gem, quite large, to balance the blade forged of finely folded iron. He swung it lightly through the air as though a stick. He had never held such an amazing weapon.

  “This is Drune,” she said. “Swiftest blade in all of Melanor.”

  Though it seemed fragile, Durian could tell that the blade contained a hidden strength. He handed the sword back to her. Then she offered him her bow.

  “This is Illiock,” she said, “made from Thay wood of the old world. He is twice as strong as oak, and unbendable against his will, which is a stubborn one. Convincing him that I would be his master was quite a feat. Now however, he is a very powerful ally.”

  “May I?” he asked.

  She smiled and nodded. Durian gripped the bow tightly in his hand. He pulled on the string with all his might, but the bow bent very little, or perhaps not even at all. He couldn't imagine even the strongest warrior being able to bend it, much less someone as graceful as Estrien. He looked up at her in astonishment. But she had said that the bow would only bend under its own will. She must only be able to use it when it was called to life. That was something else that mystified him. Though he had had enough of battle and danger, still he hoped for the chance to see what would happen when Estrien called her weapons to life. He handed the bow back to her. Then she gave him the dagger, which was of similar design to her larger sword, Drune.

  “This is Drune as well,” she said. Durian looked at her curiously. “The sword and the dagger were forged as a single piece, years ago – a long blade with a handle on each end. When Drune was first formed and was still a single piece, I called it to life for the first time. After that, the sword and dagger were split and each one sharpened. And though they were separated physically, the bond still remains. Now, when called to life, each piece can feel the presence of the other. The dagger is made for throwing, and it will always return to the one who bears his other half.”

  Durian and the others marveled at the thought. Pallin himself began to shake his head slowly in wonder.

  “It is such a pity, now looking back, that I have spent countless years wandering the world, and have never made my way to the hidden city,” Pallin said. “Their work and creativity are marvelous. I can see why Aravas chose to dwell there all these long years.”

  Estrien nodded.

  “I have a question for you though,” Pallin said. “Thalen mentioned that the astrologers in Melanor perceived a sign in the heavens some years ago that told them great peril was coming to the Eastern Realm. What did Aravas make of it?”

  “None knew what to make of it,” she replied. “The sign was indistinct. It could have meant that war was coming, or perhaps that some disaster or famine would soon arrive. Though all feared the worst, that Corcoran had somehow found a way to return, none knew anything for certain.”

  “Were the Bearoc warned?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied. “We always assumed that if Corcoran returned, it would be the giants to warn us, not the other way around.”

  “I see,” he replied. “Then the giants still have no knowledge of Corcoran's plans.”

  Durian began to wander the confines of the great hall. The embroidered rugs and carved statues were absolutely marvelous. King Euthor was but one of a dozen or so statues, each carved with great detail. They had been great kings and the details of their reigns were recorded on their pedestals. Durian stooped down to take it all in. He was still beside himself that he was standing here in Eulsiphion, involved in such incredible events. As he stood to his feet, he noticed that the torch beside him began to flicker. He turned round to see Estrien gazing intently at the far wall.

  “Estrien what is it?” Baron asked. But she did not reply.

  “Illiock, Drune, awaken!” Estrien commanded.

  The rest were taken aback. Before any could say a word, Estrien began speaking softly in the ancient tongue. It sounded like a flowing melody; Durian couldn't make out the individual words from the whole. Durian and the others gazed at her weapons but perceived little change. They still looked lifeless in her hands, but Durian could almost sense an energy of vitality emanating from them. Estrien was gazing intently at the back of the room. The rest were now standing beside her, their hearts beating quickly in confusion. But then, a form stepped out from the darkness. When they saw it, Pallin gasped and the eyes of the rest went wide. The first form was followed by another. The Dungeon Core were here!

  Meanwhile, the battle raged at the western wall. Sheabor and Straiah fought with the warriors pouring onto the wall. Arrows from the north and south towers were raining down on the multitude of barbarians below and those climbing the ladders, which were dug into the wall by thick metal claws. The soldiers of Forthura were holding their own, but the armies of the Horctura were better suited for this style of fighting.

  Being larger and armed with large broadswords and war hammers, blocking a blow could often prove as fatal as taking it. For the force of the sword could send a soldier clear of the wall and to his death. The barbarians that managed to ascend the ladders swung wildly, pushing the soldiers back until the crowded wall became their doom.

  “Straiah! We need to get to the ladders!”

  But the nearest barbarian warrior, hearing him, charged his broadsword, swinging across his chest and forcing them back. The barbarian stepped forward and swung downward at Sheabor. But Sheabor stepped to one side, narrowly dodging the blow and struck the barbarian in the jaw with the hilt of his sword. Stunned, Straiah lunged forward and pierced him with the tip of his blade.

  The pair sprinted forward toward the ladder but a warrior emerged before they arrived. Swinging his war hammer, Sheabor ducked the blow and rolled past him while Straiah blocked it with his sword, sending him nearly off the wall and to the ground. The barbarian reared up for another strike, but Sheabor lunged forward with his sword and the barbarian dropped to his knees.

  Sheabor unsheathed his hammer. Another barbarian was nearly to the top of of the wall. But Sheabor struck the armored ladder with the hammer, reducing one side of it to splinters of wood and metal. The ladder buckled but held in place. Sheabor raised the hammer for another blow, but heard the yell of Straiah as a hand pulled powerfully on the collar of his shirt, sending him to the ground as a spear sailed past his face.

  Sheabor glanced to Straiah, who wore a smile. The two sprang to their feet. The lead barbarian was just to the top of the ladder. Straiah engaged him while Sheabor struck two more blows with the hammer. The ladder gave way and slid down the wall, striking another nearby ladder, shattering it.

  A shout erupted from the soldiers of Forthura. The battle was now in their favor. Sheabor scanned the scene. Though the barbarians were fierce, they couldn't hope to take a city lik
e Eulsiphion. The towers on either side were raining down arrows right into the midst of them and weren't likely to be overrun. What were the barbarians doing?

  Elsewhere, another battle was about to begin. The Dungeon Core were fast filling the palace hall. How had they gotten in? Durian's heart was pounding as his trembling hand gripped the hilt of a sword newly his own. Estrien was standing in front of Pallin, squared off with over a dozen warriors.

  “Step aside,” commanded the leader of the Dungeon Core.

  They were here for Pallin. Estrien only pulled back her bow, aiming at his chest. The lead warrior halted, but those on the fringes continued to advance.

  One of the warriors at her flank suddenly sprang forward. Estrien turned and loosed her arrow. It hit him with such force that he flew backward into two others, knocking them also to the ground. Then she grabbed her sword.

  The warriors advanced against her, a dozen of the Dungeon Core. Durian froze. He was paralyzed with fear. But Estrien met the lead man, parrying his blow and dodging one from a second. A third warrior assaulted, pushing her back. But as she stepped away from the strike, she threw her knife at another advancing warrior, striking him dead and then blocking a fourth blow.

  “Drune!” she called out, and the knife, now red with blood, flew to meet her hand.

  The eyes of the Dungeon Core filled with surprise and rage. Durian and the others couldn't believe it, that the weapon responded to her call. But Estrien was greatly outnumbered. The surprise lasted only a moment and the group of warriors sprang at her again. Though she blocked and parried their blows, they were pushing her back toward the far wall. She had no choice but to give up ground to keep from being surrounded.

  Without warning, Baron yelled and sprang forward. Some from the Dungeon Core split off and made for them, blocking Baron's attack with an aggressive parry that knocked Baron to the ground. Coming to Blair and Durian, two soldiers raised up their swords and swung at them. Durian held up his sword and caught the blow, but the force of it knocked him into a chair and tumbled him to the ground.

  The two Dungeon Core grabbed Pallin's arms and began carrying him away. Durian looked desperately to Estrien. She had struck down another, but was still losing ground. What were they going to do? Pallin struggled in vain as the two soldiers dragged him away.

  Just then, Durian saw Estrien's white bow and quiver lying idle on the palace floor. Durian rushed to them, taking the bow in hand and clumsily setting an arrow. He pulled, but the bow was somehow even more resistant than it had been the first time, as though it were now actively resisting him. Baron and Blair ran up to him, the three Suriyans huddling around the bow, each vainly taking it in hand to try and bend it. But Durian snatched it back from Baron.

  “Your master is in danger!” Durian yelled, but the bow remained firm. “She'll die if you don't let me help her!”

  Suddenly the bow softened, almost bending under its own power. It was unbelievable. There was an energy coming from it, making Durian's hands almost numb. Durian turned to Pallin, but the soldiers had already taken him beyond the palace hall and into the chambers.

  Swinging round toward Estrien, he pointed, closing his eyes and letting the arrow go. The bow snapped with immense force, knocking him to the ground. The arrow sped along, striking one of the Dungeon Core in the back and propelling him into the other warriors. Estrien took the advantage of the surprise and struck a fifth soldier dead.

  “Here!” said Blair, giving him another arrow.

  Durian set the arrow, but two of the Dungeon Core were now sprinting at them.

  “Hurry, hurry!” yelled Baron.

  Durian fumbled about, the arrow nearly dropping from the string. He raised the bow just before the warriors reached them. The arrow sprang out, again knocking Durian back to the ground. But it met its mark. The second warrior swung at Baron and Blair, whipping the sword out of Blair's hands and knocking Baron into a chair. Then he stood over Durian, sword poised.

  Durian looked around wildly for something to defend himself with. As the warrior brought the sword down, Durian raised his hands to his face. But the blow didn't come, and after another moment, the warrior crashed down beside him, Estrien's blade, Drune, protruding from his back. He heard the sound of her call and instantly the knife shot away.

  Durian quickly jumped to his feet. There were only two now facing off with Estrien. They were crouched low, no longer on the offensive. Estrien came at them. Just then, Durian noticed the pavilion on the other side of the room. Running to it, he swung the door open wide and ran to the edge. Placing his hand against the stone, he breathed in deep.

  “Sheabor!”

  The sounds of battle from the western wall wafted through the great expanse. But Durian breathed in deep and called out again. Then he ran back to the main hall, just as Estrien felled the last warrior. Running up to her, but for a cut on her arm, they found her unharmed.

  “Thank you,” she said, placing a hand on Durian's shoulder. “Where is Pallin?”

  “They took him!”

  “Come on,” she said, and made for the back of the room.

  Running to the far side, they entered the empty hall. Rooms lined either side, and at the end of the corridor, the hallway split in a T, leading to more rooms. There was no sign of Pallin. They could be hiding in one of the rooms.

  But just as they began to move off again, they heard large metal doors swing open from the far side of the palace hall. Sheabor was the first to rush in, followed by Straiah, the king and many warriors. Seeing the dead Dungeon Core warriors on the floor, Froamb slowed and gazed gravely around the room. Estrien and the Suriyans ran to meet them.

  “Who are these soldiers?” he demanded.

  “They are the Dungeon Core,” replied Sheabor. “Servants to Corcoran and Malfur.”

  As the group approached, Straiah looked around and smiled at Estrien.

  “You did all this?” he asked.

  “Mostly,” she replied with a nod to Durian.

  “They've taken Pallin!” cut in Durian. “But we don't know where.”

  “Impossible,” said Froamb. “This fortress isn't some rabble of brick and mud, guarded by dogs. How could they have slipped out undetected?”

  “Because they entered undetected,” Estrien replied. “They must have used a hidden passageway. Are there any tunnels leading out of the city from the palace?”

  The thought seemed to strike him, as though raising some buried memory of something he had heard long ago, perhaps as a child. But he shook his head no.

  “Come on,” she urged. “We need to search.”

  But King Froamb and his soldiers stayed behind, more concerned with the slain warriors in the palace hall than in the kidnapping of Pallin. Straiah and Sheabor ran down the hallway, pounding open each closed door. Reaching the end of the hall, they did likewise down the other two corridors. There were nothing but empty rooms. Running back to the rest of the group, Straiah suddenly stopped in his tracks.

  “Wait. Look, blood.”

  The blood was in the doorway of a large room, undoubtedly King Froamb's. They ran their eyes and fingers over the smooth walls, looking for any clue. Estrien went to the far wall and bent down, touching her finger to a tiny drop of blood.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her palms against the cool stone, speaking quietly in her melodious language. The rest stopped their futile pursuit and watched her. Then, without warning, the wall began to slide open, revealing a darkened corridor. Grabbing torches from the hallway, the group rushed into the darkness, Sheabor in the lead, followed by Straiah and Estrien. The pathway was small, dark, and musty, carved in the bedrock of the mountains Eulsiphion was built against.

  “Good King Froamb is going to get quite a shock when he walks into his bedroom tonight and finds a wide open door,” Straiah said to Estrien. She laughed.

  “Hopefully that will be enough to free him from his stubbornness,” she commented.

  “I would think that meeting you would
be enough to give any man the courage to fight,” he replied. Estrien blushed, though none could tell.

  “I think our worst fears are confirmed,” Straiah said. “The Dungeon Core are in league with the Horctura of the north. The attack on the wall tonight was merely a distraction to allow the Dungeon Core to find Pallin and escape undetected.”

  Sheabor didn't answer, but his silence was an affirmation.

  “When the two forces join to attack Eulsiphion, the city will not stand,” Straiah continued.

  “That is why we must be swift in Pallin's rescue,” Sheabor replied.

  Time was running out. The tunnel was long and remarkably straight and level. After some while, a kind of rumbling came from ahead and a distant glow of light. Nearing it, they saw that the corridor ended at a glistening pool of water. The rumbling from beyond had grown loud around them. Without a word, Sheabor dropped into the pool with a splash and disappeared beneath the waters. Straiah and Estrien did the same and Durian stood there for a moment, mouth gaping at Baron and Blair.

  But Baron only smiled and hopped into the glowing pool. Blair extended his hand, giving Durian the lead and he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he was engulfed in a frigid blue. The roar somehow intensified underwater. Durian opened his eyes to see bubbles and frothing water all around him. Swimming away from it and upward, he broke the surface just to the side of a large waterfall. The others had already climbed ashore on the rocky lake shore.

  “It's taken us to Siphion Falls,” marveled Estrien. “Do you see the Dungeon Core?”

  “Not yet,” said Sheabor. “But we know they'll head south along the plains toward Thob Forest. We can overtake them if we hurry. I'm sure they are unaware we are following them.”

  Durian climbed ashore and turned round. Nearly a league away, Eulsiphion sat like a glowing gem amid the dark mountains. But Sheabor departed without a word, and the rest followed. Durian gazed ahead to the places they would soon travel. He almost thought he could make out forms in the distance, faintly glimmering in the pale moonlight. Maybe they were on the right track after all. Only time would tell.