The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  “But how would I get back to Thob Forest?” Straiah asked.

  “We are preparing ships for King Froamb and his men to set sail for Suriya, the southernmost township of his kingdom. If you accompany him, you can set off from there along the coast toward the Westward Wilds. But be warned. A normal man wouldn't last a week there in fair weather. And winter is upon us now. You may well be going to your death.”

  Straiah nodded slowly.

  “If that's my best hope of getting the hammer back to Sheabor, then it's a risk I'll have to take.”

  “Yours will be a lonely road,” Aravas said. “But as the old saying goes: Heroes have the whole world for a tomb.”

  That was a new one. If Aravas was trying to encourage him, he hadn't succeeded.

  “Heroes don't foolishly risk the fate of the world in reckless rescues,” Straiah commented.

  “Yes they do.”

  Straiah smirked.

  “Come take a walk with me,” Aravas said, hooking his arm around Straiah's shoulder, leading him into the cool night. After they had descended the stairs, Aravas spoke.

  “I must also foolishly risk the fate of our world on a reckless rescue of sorts.”

  Straiah glanced to him, unsure of his meaning. But Aravas only sighed as he gazed into the starry sky.

  “I'm glad you're bound for Suriya with King Froamb. He may need you. Make for the Westward Wilds, but don't close your eyes to other paths that lay before you.”

  Why was Aravas speaking in riddles? And what was he talking about, him recklessly risking the fate of the world? Straiah opened his mouth to question him but Aravas spoke first.

  “You should go. Your ship departs within the hour.”

  Straiah bowed and turned to leave, but stopped.

  “Where is Estrien being held?”

  “Why?”

  Straiah clenched his jaw, uninterested in explaining his motives.

  “This pathway here will lead you to her. Look for the building under guard at the end of the road.”

  “Thank you.”

  Straiah set off swiftly down the road. But before he had gone far, King Froamb and his people were assembled in a large grassy park off to one side of the road. The king saw him and motioned him into their midst.

  “As you all may have heard,” the king began, “our hosts are anxious to see us on our way. So much for the fabled city of the wise.”

  The men around them began to chuckle.

  “And yet, wisdom is not always a brother to courage,” he continued. “I do not begrudge them. No. Wise and fool alike, we all follow the same code: Protect your own. They are safe here, and they wish to remain safe for as long as they may. Our path is along a different road. Make yourselves ready. We leave for Suriya within the hour.”

  The people began to disperse. Straiah was surprised by the change in demeanor in the king. Only minutes ago, he had been wroth at the decision of Melanor. But now, he seemed in high spirits, making light of the grave peril his people faced.

  “Then Suriya is where you'll make your stand,” Straiah said.

  King Froamb nodded.

  “What about Kester?” Straiah questioned. “If you buy some time, won't they come to your aid?”

  “They would perhaps, but the time you speak of isn't enough. “Malfur has been both cunning and cautious. To anyone watching from the outside, it will look as though the Horctura have finally won the war. The truth is, the war with the Horctura has been going badly for some time. Kester has been withdrawing its support over the years, and has instead been fortifying its northeastern cities. They've recently erected a massive military fortress named K'venneh near their border to warn the Horctura not to set their sights on the west.”

  Straiah nodded and stared ahead, not willing to meet the king's gaze. Froamb was confident and resolved, a man left with one path and striking out boldly upon it, no matter where it may lead. Straiah knew his eyes would betray his hopelessness.

  “Will you join us?” King Froamb asked.

  Straiah didn't know what to say. Yes he would accompany them to Suriya. But how could he tell King Froamb of his plan to swiftly leave them and flee toward the Westward Wilds? The king would count him a coward, and perhaps rightly so. Straiah, at length turned and met his gaze.

  “I will accompany you to Suriya and I will fight for you as long as I am able. But understand, my first duty is to protect the Hammer of Haladrin and return it safely to Sheabor and Pallin.”

  Straiah opened his mouth to say more, but the words wouldn't form.

  “Then I'll see you on the boat.”

  King Froamb slapped Straiah on the shoulder with a smile and headed off. Straiah couldn't help but chuckle to himself. The king was a very interesting personality, definitely given to extremes. What it must be like to be a noble in his court.

  But the weight of what he had to do next hit him powerfully. He had precious little time and he knew he had to visit Estrien. What would he say to her? How could he face her knowing he'd put the city she loved and the whole world in grave peril? But he couldn't leave without seeing her.

  And so he departed, following the instructions of Aravas and arriving to a guarded building at the end of the road. The guards permitted him to enter and he walked slowly into the low-lit room. It was small, harboring only a handful of cells – yet another testament to why Estrien was right to fight so hard to protect the way of life here in Melanor.

  Estrien was in the corner, against the far wall. He lingered there for a moment, until seeing him, she arose and came to greet him. He was surprised by how, even here and now, he was struck by her elegance and beauty. Her blonde hair fell loosely past her shoulders, and her green eyes watched him approach. She reached out to take his hand in hers, catching him off guard. He took her hand, but seeing the gentleness in her eyes made him pull away, face downcast to the ground.

  “I'm so sorry, Estrien. I've made such a mess. Everything is spinning out of control.”

  She reached out again for his hands, which he gave and she waited for him to meet her gaze before responding.

  “You did what you had to,” she said. “I don't blame you. I was just afraid of what would happen. And now that it's done, it wasn't as bad as I thought. I'm at peace. I was unfair to you and I'm sorry.”

  Straiah found himself unprepared for her words and turned his eyes down to their interwoven hands. Stroking her fingers softly in his, he knew he had only moments left. At length he turned his eyes back to hers.

  “I'm going to Suriya with King Froamb and his men.”

  A hint of fear entered Estrien's eyes.

  “They won't survive the battle. Suriya is defenseless. And with all the refugees fleeing southward. It'll be a bloodbath.”

  “I know.”

  “But the hammer...”

  “If things turn ill, I'll take the path through the Westward Wilds and reunite with Sheabor and Pallin in the lands of Kester.”

  Estrien shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

  “You'd never survive.”

  “I'll find a way through. This will not be the last time we see each other. I promise you.”

  Estrien gave him a teary smile and nodded. Then he kissed her. And again, even in the face of such a bleak future, he felt peace, and held fast to the moments slowly slipping away.

  “What's going to happen to you?” he asked at length.

  “I don't know,” she responded.

  He could tell she was keeping something from him but he didn't press her.

  “I risked the fate of our entire world to free you from that place. I didn't do it so some bureaucrat could lock you away in another prison.”

  Estrien nodded slowly.

  “I know.”

  He clenched the hammer angrily in his hand, and suddenly an idea flashed through his mind, one that made his heart race with guilt and excitement for even thinking of it. She seemed to sense what he was thinking and preemptively shook her head gravely before the word
s even escaped his lips.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  “No. Please, you mustn't talk like that.”

  “I could free you right now. I could smuggle you onto one of the ships. You could come with me to Kester and resume your mission to guard Pallin.”

  He could tell by her gaze that her resolve was firm, though her eyes showed a gladness at his fervor for her.

  “I believe your promise,” she said with a smile. “We will see each other again. But not here and not now.”

  Straiah looked to the floor, nodding slowly and feeling guilty now for wanting to make her a fugitive from her own people. She pulled his chin up to meet her gaze.

  “I'm very glad to know you, Straiah of the House, Cavanah. One of the Suriyans told me you were the most selfless man he'd ever met.”

  Straiah lifted his head back with a laugh.

  “And which one was that? Baron I bet.”

  Estrien nodded with a laugh, recalling Baron's gushing declarations on the streets of Eulsiphion.

  “I can see why you visited Suriya on your leave from Melanor,” Straiah said. “They have a subtle beauty and the people there surprise you. I very much hope King Froamb and I can see them safely protected.”

  Estrien opened her mouth to respond, but before she did, the door to the prison opened, revealing the person of Thalen walking in to meet them.

  “I thought I would find you here. The boats are ready. It's time you were on your way.”

  Something in his voice seemed troubled.

  “What is it?” Estrien asked.

  “I've just been informed that Aravas has left the city. We don't know where he has gone.”

  Straiah thought back to the last conversation he'd had with him and his cryptic statements about a reckless rescue. What could it all mean?

  “He left a note with a single instruction,” Thalen continued. “Be ready.”

  The Shady Marshes

  Durian awoke to a nudge on his shoulder, Pallin standing over him. Durian sat up, rubbing his eyes and glancing around for the others. The light of dawn was just filling the sky. He pushed himself up onto a nearby fallen log, rubbing his left wrist.

  “Let's have a look,” Pallin said.

  Removing the bandages, he examined Durian backwards and forwards, at times a look of concern appearing on his face.

  “You're healing slower than I'd prefer. But you're on the mend. That's what matters. I'm going to go and clean these bandages. Your friends are cooking breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?” Durian asked.

  Just then, he noticed the aroma of roasted meat on the air. Durian walked over to find Blair cooking a rabbit on a stick in a small, roughly domed oven made from smooth river rock. Inside the oven were flat smooth stones as a base, and Durian could see hints of red coals glowing beneath. The oven was giving off quite a lot of heat and very little smoke.

  “Where in the world did you get that?” Durian asked.

  “Pallin trapped it,” Blair replied. “He was already skinning it when we woke up and he had this pit of coals going.”

  “Trapped it? With what?”

  Blair only shrugged his shoulders. Durian glanced down to the river, where Pallin was washing his bandages. He suspected Pallin had gone to such trouble on account of his injury. Durian went down to meet him by the river.

  “Are you sure we have time for all this?” Durian asked.

  “The fact the barbarians haven't yet found us is a good indication that Sheabor is still alive and making a menace of himself. In some ways, it was good we were parted from him. A woodsman of his stealth and skill could drive the barbarians mad with false tracks and hit and run attacks. Giving him time to run riot will only ease our escape.”

  “Escape to where?”

  “I think I have worked out where King Euthor may have buried his beloved wife. Since he didn't seem to leave any specific clue in his farewell poem, I can only guess that he would have buried her in a place special to her heart. Now go and have something to eat.”

  Pallin began fashioning a small piece of metal into a hook, attaching some thread to one end and a worm to the other. Pallin certainly was full of surprises.

  “Where's Baron?” Durian asked, arriving back at where Blair was cooking.

  “Pallin sent him after bait.”

  Durian chuckled, watching Blair methodically turn the rabbit in the domed oven.

  “You look like you've done this before,” Durian commented.

  “Not often. I usually cook rabbit in stew. The coals don't give a consistent heat base, so it's hard to cook evenly.”

  Though warm food had been an untasted luxury these past days, Durian was growing more and more anxious to be on with their quest to find the tomb of Sheyla, more so now that Pallin claimed to have worked out its location. What would they discover there? Durian still couldn't believe that he had become a part of a mystery twelve centuries in the making.

  “Make sure mine's extra well done,” said Baron to Blair, walking up from behind.

  “It's all going to be the same,” Blair responded in annoyance.

  “That's what I'm afraid of. You should've seen our poor mother the last time Blair tried to roast rabbit. Sick for days...”

  “She was already coming down with something and you know it,” Blair said.

  Durian laughed.

  “Find any worms?” he questioned.

  Baron opened his fingers to reveal a handful of bait and wandered down to deliver them to Pallin, who had already hooked his first fish. Pallin came with Baron back to the group.

  “We'll depart at sunset. Under cover of night we'll flee these valleys and make again for the open plains. With luck, Sheabor will be waiting for us somewhere on the fringes.”

  Durian took the fish from Pallin and prepared it for Blair. By late morning, all had had their fill. But the coals were nearly spent and the oven had all but grown cold. New wood meant smoke, which they couldn't afford.

  “I'm going up ahead to scout,” said Pallin. “Don't leave the area unless you must.”

  The three friends watched the morning progress to afternoon. The sun moved overhead and then was quickly gone again on the other side of the valley. With winter, the days were shorter and Pallin returned quickly.

  “The way seems clear,” he announced.

  He set a quick pace down the river, atop the boulders. The valley was broad and shallow here, and the hillsides on either side were more verdant and less rocky as the landscape transitioned back within the purview of the plains. But before night had fallen, they saw a thin band of smoke rising from somewhere ahead along their side of the river. If the barbarians were still here, they weren't taking pains to conceal themselves.

  Pallin found a narrow spot where a tree had fallen over the stream. Crossing, they set off across the field for the far hillside, leaving the stream behind. Durian thought he heard the sound of a horse whinnying.

  The moon had yet to ascend from below the horizon, but the first of the evening stars was poking through the failing light. The treeline ended just ahead as the group crept along the edge of the shallow hillside. Soon, they'd be back in the open spaces. How far did they expect to get without horses?

  Pallin came to the edge of the treeline and hesitated, scanning the scene. But soon he sprang forward into the plains. This was crazy. They hadn't even looked for Sheabor. But the three friends followed, jogging north for a short while and then veering west.

  Then Durian started to hear the rumble of horses from behind. He glanced back as they ran, seeing nothing, but the sound grew louder. Pallin, if he heard it, was paying it no mind. They kept moving. Durian's head began to throb and his wrist ached from overexertion. Glancing back, Durian saw indistinct movement against the dark and the sound of galloping clearly growing.

  “Pallin!” Durian called out, as softly as he could manage.

  “Keep moving!” Pallin commanded.

  The barbarians were nearly on top of them. If t
hey didn't do something now, they'd be discovered. But it was too late. Glancing back, Durian saw a pack of horses galloping straight for them. They were going to trample them! The three Suriyans veered out of the way.

  “Pallin!” Durian called out.

  Just then, the horses passed them by. To his surprise, it looked as though only one rider accompanied the horses, riding the lead horse and towing three others behind. Coming past Pallin, the horseman reared up and halted. It was Sheabor! The group ran to greet him, overjoyed.

  “Sheabor!” Baron exclaimed. “You're alive! Where did you get these?”

  “I've been slowly stealing them from the barbarians,” Sheabor said with a smile. “We shouldn't have much trouble escaping now. I managed to steal four, so one of us will have to share.”

  The group climbed atop the horses and Pallin handed Sheabor a water skin and something wrapped up in a piece of leather. Sheabor drained the water and then unwrapped the leather skin to reveal a cooked fish. Laughing, he devoured it, taking little time to free the meat from the bones.

  It was then that Durian realized Pallin's eagerness to eat food might not have been only for Durian's benefit, but more for Sheabor, who had industriously been stifling the plans of the Horctura. The group smiled as they watched, for he ate like a man starving. His clothes were tattered from his tumble down the ravine, but he looked otherwise unscathed.

  “Where do we go from here?” Sheabor asked at length.

  “A place called Schadelmar,” Pallin replied, “which in the ancient tongue means Shady Marshes. That is where I believe the final resting place of Sheyla lies.”

  “Sheyla?” Sheabor said in great surprise.

  “Yes,” Pallin responded. “While you were away, Durian discovered that King Euthor must have buried her somewhere in the old plains of Cavanah just after the Great War. I've thought long, and Schadelmar seems the most likely spot.”

  “Where is Schadelmar?” he asked.

  “Northwest,” Pallin responded. “Near the forest of Thay Iphilus.”

  The group set off at a modest pace, knowing the journey was far. Durian trotted up next to Pallin with a question he'd been meaning to ask.