“Tomorrow, I will announce it,” Sheabor responded.
Straiah was surprised at his lack of disclosure. Was it possible their friendship had grown strained when Straiah failed to return with the hammer in time to join Pallin and Durian? Straiah didn't think so. It rather seemed like Sheabor was bearing the burden of the future alone, letting Straiah and the rest bask in the joy of their new relationships. But just then, Aravas arrived with a bow to each man and sat beside them.
“That show from Baron today changes things, don't you think?” Aravas said to Sheabor.
So Sheabor wasn't alone after all.
“We should probably discuss how Baron and Blair's new abilities will alter our timetable,” Aravas continued.
Then he turned to Straiah.
“Go and be with Estrien,” he said. “Leave these old souls to strategize and theorize.”
Straiah accepted gladly and arose, coming over to Estrien who wore a smile as she listened to King Froamb and Gwaren still bantering.
“King Froamb,” Straiah began in an attempt to change the subject. “What do you plan to do on your return to Eulsiphion? In which of the townships will you concentrate your efforts?”
“Well that depends on your friend there,” he said, motioning to Sheabor. “He has said he has plans for a project that will need support from all the kingdoms of the Eastern Realm. I assume he means Ogrindal as well.”
Gwaren didn’t respond, but Froamb turned to him.
“It appears that we are to become partners, you and I.”
Just then, Ariadra appeared before them, surprising Baron, who jumped to his feet, which caught the attention of everyone. Ariadra blushed at his enthusiasm, but also at finding herself amid such regal company, turning with a bow to Gwaren, King Froamb and Estrien. But Baron took her by the hand and the two stepped off to one side.
“I was looking for you all day!” he exclaimed.
“I was with my father and the other council elders. You've become quite the center of attention, you know.”
Baron smiled wide.
“When do you think your brother will unlock his ability?”
“Could be awhile. He's a slower learner.”
Baron said it loudly enough for Blair to hear. Ariadra glanced over, raising her hand to her mouth to cover a smile, and turned back to Baron, striking him in the arm.
“You need to be nicer to him!” she said with feigned exasperation.
Baron chuckled and threw up his hands in surrender. Just then, Straiah and Estrien arose to depart from the group, coming to Baron and Ariadra.
“Straiah, this is Ariadra,” Baron said.
“It’s very good to meet you,” he said. “Baron is a fine young man.”
Ariadra blushed but nodded.
“Be careful of this one,” Estrien said to Ariadra. “He's a charmer.”
Baron burst out laughing and gave them each a hug. Then Straiah and Estrien departed but Estrien's smile faded to a sigh as they walked.
“What’s the matter?” Straiah asked.
“I can’t even imagine why we fought for so long to stay hidden from the outside world, as did Ogrindal. Here, now, in this place, I can’t recall what we were so afraid of. We acted so foolishly, and I’m scared that we’ve all come together too late. The kingdom of Kester and the Bearoc are still unaware of what's coming.”
“It’s not too late,” he assured. “Things are just beginning.”
Estrien nodded slowly.
“Let's take a walk,” he said. “I want to show you something.”
Straiah pulled her through the city toward the woods. Since their first arrival at Eulsiphion, they had had nearly no time to themselves. Everything had been such hustle and bustle. But now, King Froamb's eye was fixed on Gwaren and they were free to wander.
Soon they were in the forest. He had always loved the woods. He felt safe there; in control. Thay Iphilus Forest was much like the forest on the Banished Lands where he and Sheabor were raised. Gwaren had told him of a beautiful waterfall nearby, flowing down from the Ruhkan Mountains. Straiah went swiftly off to find it, clinging to Estrien's hand as he moved them along.
“Where are you taking us?” she asked.
“You'll see.”
After only a few minutes, Straiah could hear the muffled sound of water crashing to the earth in the distance ahead. They came to a clearing and saw a large, thin band of water falling from fifty feet above and crashing into a small pool. He turned to her to see her reaction. Her bright green eyes captivated him, floating amid the golden locks of her hair.
Then he kissed her. Time seemed to stand still, as though he were locked in a perfect moment. The sound of the waterfall faded to a dull hum and he felt suddenly fatigued. He heard the sound of Estrien say his name, but it was only as though a distant call from a far away place. He felt the sensation that he was falling.
He nearly fainted, but steadied himself against a tree. Shaking his head, he looked back at Estrien, who wore a look of deep concern. But her gaze turned distant as she seemed lost in thought.
“Estrien?” he asked, but didn't break her from her ruminations.
He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. As he did, she jumped and took a step away from him.
“It's me,” she said softly.
Straiah turned to her. Estrien was trembling.
“What do you mean?”
“The elders of Melanor...they did something,” Estrien said, tears now forming in her eyes. “When they brought me from the cell, they spoke a ritual over me in the ancient tongue. I didn't understand it. They said that they would suffer nothing to waylay me from my duty. That was the price for setting me free.”
“What do you mean a ritual? I don't understand.”
“We can call lifeless things into being, but our ability can also be used to deaden what already lives. I don't know how, but they manipulated my ability.”
Straiah didn't comprehend what she was saying. He reached out his hand for her arm, but she quickly pulled back and looked at him with stern but tear filled eyes.
“You and I can't be,” she declared. “My ability would kill you.”
Estrien turned quickly and ran from him. Straiah was too dumbfounded to even say a word. And then she was gone. It couldn't be. Straiah felt suddenly weak. He seated himself on a nearby rock and buried his head in his hands. How could this have happened?
Meanwhile, day had turned to evening and Blair and Baron were back in their temporary home. Seated by candlelight, Baron's thoughts were racing from the happenings of the day. With the rock from the Ruhkan Mountains in hand, Baron explored the possibilities of his new gifting, shaping the stone into different forms as though it were clay. Even the colors were malleable, either drawing a sharp contrast between the blue and the white, or else blending them together into one single color.
He wanted to craft a pendant for Ariadra and sat there for hours, a puddle of wax growing from spent candles as he worked to get the shape and colors just the way he wanted. He could be leaving in the morning, and he needed to give her something to remember him by. Perhaps in time, they would see each other again.
Madrigan
Durian stood alone on the riverbank, heart pounding, and Pallin nowhere to be seen. Staring at the boat floating idle on the other side of the riverbank, Durian was frozen in place. Should he go and search for Pallin or rescue their boat? Though resting in an eddy now, the river could claim it once again, this time for good.
Durian ambled along the river, searching for the best spot to cross. But fifteen minutes made little difference so he returned to where he started and plunged forward. The water was colder than he expected, born in the heights of the Ruhkan Range. Though he had already been submerged in its waters once before, the threat of drowning had kept his mind from the frigid cold against his skin.
At just knee deep, he already began to stumble against the pulling current, his ankles wrenching and twisting in the rocks submerged beneat
h the surface. At waist deep he could go no further without committing fully to his course. But not yet halfway across, he lingered in indecision.
But finally losing his balance, he dove beneath the surface and swam furiously. In only moments his shoulders burned with exertion and the weight of his garments dragged him down and away. Now halfway across and surprised at his quick fatigue in the icy waters, panic set in and he flailed forward with everything in him until exhaustion compelled him to test the depth. His feet slid past a large rock and made contact with solid ground, waist deep on the other side of the river. Overjoyed, he plodded the rest of the way, falling down breathless on warm sand.
Nearly falling asleep, Durian pushed himself up and looked upstream, finding the boat still stuck in an eddy a hundred paces away. Durian arose, quickly removing his garments and laying them out on the rocks in the sun. Sunset wasn't far off and his soaked clothes would make for a miserable night if they didn't dry in time.
Pulling the boat safely ashore, he blew warm breaths of air into his hands, now shaking from cold, and he rifled about the boat's contents, sighing in great relief to find their flint rocks for making a fire. The supplies were largely untroubled by the voyage through the rapids and the boat surprisingly unmarred by the rocks.
Durian set off into the forest for wood and kindling, his mind still racing to explain Pallin's long absence. What if he was hurt somewhere? If Durian waited much longer, night would fall and Pallin would be left alone in the cold. But clenching his jaw, he went back to his task, telling himself that Pallin was fine.
The sun was low behind him when Durian at last struck the flint rock into the bed of grasses he'd gathered. Lighting quickly, the smoke billowed from the fast disappearing fuel and Durian added twigs and subsequent logs until at last he stood proudly before a mature fire.
The setting of the sun brought a creeping breeze to the forest. Durian huddled against it, shivering by his small fire as most of his clothes were still strewn about the river rocks. Bringing them to the ring of rocks he'd made, Durian piled the rest of his wood on the fledgling fire and went for more, returning several times with greater and greater caches of wood. But he needed to find something more substantial...something that would burn through the night.
Putting on his reasonably dry garments, he risked a trip into the deep forest. Gone for quite some time, when he returned dragging the top half of a tree struck by lightning, he immediately froze when he neared his camp. For, sitting down by his fire was a form. The brightness of the fire obscured his view and Durian didn't dare move. But then, as though realizing he was being watched, the form straightened, and turned.
“Well done, my boy,” said Pallin, seeing Durian standing there.
Durian was speechless. He walked over and dropped the large tree section by his gathered pile, seating himself next to Pallin.
“What in the world happened to you?”
“Oh,” Pallin replied. “Well, I ventured quickly through the forest until I was sure I had traveled further downstream than our boat. I waited on the riverbank over an hour, until late afternoon. When the boat did not arrive, I knew it must have gotten tied up in an eddy somewhere up river. Venturing upstream, I saw your fire and our boat, both on the opposite side of the river. I had only to retrieve the oar still stuck fast in the rapids and find a navigable place to cross. And here I now sit.”
It was then that Durian noticed that Pallin was completely dry.
“You must be freezing,” Pallin chuckled. “Here, take my cloak.”
“Why didn't you call out to me when you saw my fire?” Durian questioned.
Pallin seemed surprised at the question.
“I'm sorry,” Pallin said. “I did not think of it. There was never any real peril.”
Durian shook his head and couldn't help but chuckle. Slapping him on the back, Pallin arose and bolstered the fire ring with a few mid-sized flat stones from the riverbank. Then Pallin went to work arranging their soaked provisions and supplies on the rocks, until soon steam was rising from all their wet things.
Durian watched by the fire, having finished his toils for the day. At length, the chill left him and the beauty of the rising moon over the forest drew a sigh of inspiration.
“Pallin, how long will we be in this forest?”
“Many days and nights.”
“What dangers are there?”
“None, if we keep to the river.”
“That's danger enough for me.”
Pallin smiled. They sat for a long while in silence, gazing into the fire, breaking sticks and throwing them into the glowing embers.
“Pallin, tell me about the old world,” Durian said. “Did everyone back then have an ability?”
“No, actually,” Pallin replied. “The old world was much as Melanor is now, with only a handful in each city developing their abilities. Most had not the time, money, nor discipline to pursue their inborn gifting. It became the artisan's pursuit of the nobility.”
“That's hard to believe,” Durian replied. “If I had a gift like that, I'd surely use it.”
“But what's common is always taken for granted. Say, for instance, you had an inborn talent to play stringed instruments. But living in a town like Suriya as a simple carpenter, would you really spend the time to develop your craft with so many other demands on your time?”
Pallin made a good point. Durian recalled how anxious he had been just to keep his father's woodworking business from bankruptcy. Idealistic pursuits like music were usually the last thing on a struggling merchant's mind.
“Tell me about the Great War,” Durian said. “What started it? I thought Corcoran had left with his followers to find a land of their own. Why did they return to make war against the rest?”
Pallin took a deep breath.
“None knows for certain exactly how it happened,” Pallin responded. “The lands had mostly been peaceful, up until that time. But there was much discontent brewing among the Three Houses. Though the Houses largely remained divided, keeping to their own affairs, some intermarried and had children of mixed heritage. Like Corcoran, many were born whose blood was mixed, developing unique and strange abilities. But being so different from everyone around them, they were often lonely souls.
Corcoran was among the first of the mixed-blooded to bear a unique and wonderful ability. It inspired the others like him, often treated as inferior in the cities where they dwelt. He was Madrigan then, the Path-Maker. If you recall, I told you of his ability to alter the natural world around him. Wherever his feet would travel, pathways would form beneath him, leading to hidden wonders. He had the soul of a poet then, and often roamed the world's natural beauties. Here is an excerpt of his work:
The morning rays fall low and cold
On pathways to the woodland old.
But few are stirring out to greet
The misty hour with roaming feet.
The brook is flowing slowly past.
The hills lay in the airy vast.
The mossy stream, serene and clear,
Are we not all great poets here?
I wander slowly through the trees
To feel the timeless in the breeze,
And ponder all those bygone days
That disappear like morning haze.
I know not where the doers are,
Who wander never near or far;
Bereft of woods and field and streams,
And substance for their fragile dreams...
“Corcoran wrote that?” Durian questioned. “It's so thoughtful.”
“He was an accomplished poet, a welcomed visitor to every city he visited, a symbol of the unity that could have formed between the Three Houses. But his message was never for unity. Instead, he called on those of mixed heritage to come away and seek a land of their own, the blessed realm he called Eskédrin, to form a new House of Man.
The Three Houses were glad to see them go, a problem they no longer had to solve. But none were prepared for the retur
n of Madrigan, this time as the warlord, Corcoran. It was a brilliant strategy – to leave on the pretext of peace and prepare undiscovered for war. None suspected him of malice.”
Durian marveled at the story.
“Did you know him?” Durian asked.
Pallin shook his head.
“The Four were different then. We were caretakers of a grand world, not the simple old men we are now. We did not meddle in the affairs of man, nor did we often mix company with them.”
The declaration struck Durian. In his dream of King Euthor surrounded by his army, he had recognized Pallin's face, but his demeanor had been vastly different. He had been commanding and confident, and King Euthor had a look of reverence in his eyes as he spoke with the Four. When Durian and the others had found Pallin on the mountain cleft in the Estees Mountains, Pallin had been a broken man, ravaged by years of grief.
But Durian's thoughts drifted back to the old world. What an amazing place it must have been. He could see now what drove Corcoran and the others to war. Durian knew only a little of what it felt like to be unaccepted in the midst of one's peers. His parents had passed when he was but a boy, and with no brothers or sisters, he'd been largely on his own. He could see in people's eyes that they didn't know what to say to him, and they would sometimes avoid him because of their discomfort. Durian had never held it against them, but it wasn't a good feeling.
“How long did the Great War last?”
“A mere few months,” Pallin replied. “The Three Houses were completely unprepared, carrying on as they always had, and Corcoran struck them swiftly. There had been whispers of his return for years, troubling reports from the west. But these amounted to nothing. None believed that he and his followers had cause to leave their blessed realm, now that they'd finally found it.
His poems were his advocate, ever declaring in his absence that he was a simple man of peace. If the Great War was truly the design of Corcoran all along, it was nothing short of genius, twisted though it was. In all his poetry, he seemed nothing more than harmless wanderer, a lover of the natural world around him, and a seeker of a beautiful land of his own. His followers flocked to him and left everything to share in his vision. He betrayed them. He betrayed us all.”
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 33
