The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  “It's a pile of rubble!” Baron exclaimed. “What could go wrong?”

  “At least you'll have Estrien for protection. She'll know what to do.”

  A slow smile grew on his face but Ariadra wouldn't look him in the eyes.

  “I'm pretty handy in a pinch too you know.”

  Ariadra glanced up, finally surrendering her dismay and returning his smile.

  “Baron, we should get going,” Estrien said. “We don't know how long the journey is.”

  “Okay, one second,” Baron said and took something from his pocket.

  “I made something for you,” he said, handing the pendant to Ariadra he'd spent the whole night crafting. He'd shaped the stone into a beautifully detailed leaf and managed to concentrate the blue of the stone into vibrant swirls against the gray.

  “It's beautiful!” she said, embracing him.

  Baron felt a rush of emotion as he held her close. Though danger, and possibly even death awaited them at the Illian city, Baron finally felt excited for what the future held. He knew now in his heart of hearts that he would see Ariadra again. He wasn't just a simple blacksmith from a backwater fishing village any longer.

  As he let go at length, she pulled away slowly, her curls of brown hair falling in front of her deep hazel eyes. She was so beautiful, more and more each time he saw her. He couldn't stop himself from pulling her close again and kissing her. Her arms wrapped round his neck and in that moment Baron felt a passion deeper than anything he'd known thus far. How could things have turned out so wonderful?

  But the moment ended and Baron tore himself away to join Blair and Estrien. Soon the trio was under the leafy canopy but Baron couldn't stop smiling.

  “He'll be impossible to deal with now,” Blair said to Estrien.

  But Estrien didn't reply, her movements mechanical through the forest as though she hadn't even heard him. They wandered for the better part of an hour, Baron smiling like a little child and Estrien seemingly in a dark mood.

  “Is everything alright?” Blair asked finally.

  Estrien turned to him with a warm smile and nodded.

  “Don't worry,” she said. “We're not lost.”

  “You haven't seemed yourself lately,” Baron said, having finally taken notice.

  “I...” she began. “I was distracted from my duty.

  “Oh,” Baron replied at the vagueness of her response. “Well duty isn't everything you know. This war will soon be over and we can all start our new lives together.”

  Estrien smiled warmly and gave him her best nod. But Baron could see that something still weighed heavily on her. He felt badly, having been so caught up thinking of Ariadra, he was oblivious to the rest. But she didn't seem to want to discuss it. Perhaps a change of subject, he thought.

  “I'm confused by the House of Kester,” Baron said. “They seem spread out over the whole continent. Bowen's people are all the way on the western shore but Melanor is all the way on the eastern shore. And the Illian city seems right near the center of the continent.”

  “That's true,” she responded. “The Woodlanders always favored the forests, while the Builders dwelt close to the tall mountains from which they quarried their stone. The Breath Givers were free to move about and settle where they wished.”

  “Tell us about the Illian city,” he said.

  “Very little is known of it. It was begun by King Euthor's father, King Cithran, in the years before the Great War. But King Cithran died suddenly and it was never completed. It was a city built like Eulsiphion, nearly identical. During the cataclysm that followed the Great War, the earthquakes and falling stone reduced the city to rubble. According to our history, when the mountain fell on them, the Breath Givers cried out in one voice, and the very stones of the city came alive with their call. Our tradition says that their souls were imbued within the stone of the city. Beyond that, nothing is known.”

  “I still don't really understand why Aravas wants to send us there,” Baron said.

  “Well, you are a Builder,” she offered. “Living stones will undoubtedly have more to offer than lifeless ones. Perhaps interacting with them will reveal the secrets of their construction.”

  Baron acknowledged the fact he hadn't considered until now. What would it be like to touch a living stone? And how could they be dangerous? Would they cave in suddenly, trying to kill them? The questions filled his mind, enthralling his imagination.

  The group walked for most of the day, skirting the sheer face of the Ruhkan Mountains as Estrien looked for a way into the mountain's interior. When they were close enough to touch the mountain face, Baron reached out his hand, sliding his fingertips across the rugged stone. As a blacksmith by trade, Baron had always loved metal and metalworking. But now, the thought of actually creating and molding stone was marvelous beyond words.

  His mind wandered to thoughts of the grand alliance city that he and Blair would help to build. Would they make it white like polished marble, or colorful and vibrant? How tall and thick would its walls be? And he chuckled at the remembrance of the ad hoc name he had given it, Baronnora.

  “What are you smiling about?” Blair questioned.

  “Oh nothing,” Baron responded. “Just thinking about our alliance city, Baronnora.”

  “If you honestly believe Sheabor will allow you to name his new city after yourself...”

  Baron turned to him with a wide grin.

  “Haven't you thought about it yet?” Baron asked.

  “What?”

  “About how we're going to build it, of course. Obviously all the walls and ramparts will be my responsibility. But you should give some serious consideration to how you'll arrange the kitchen and the housing quarters for the chamber maids. I'm leaving those areas fully in your charge.”

  Estrien laughed and Blair shook his head. Though Baron knew Sheabor would be the chief architect of the city, it was fun for the time being to threaten Blair with menial servitude. But even as they laughed, Estrien finally saw what she was looking for – a set of markings engraved into the very walls of the mountain face.

  “What is that?” Baron asked.

  “This is an inscription, a welcome to the Illian city,” she responded.

  “But there's no road,” Blair said. “Where's the city?”

  Estrien didn't answer him, but took a step forward, placing the palms of her hands on the mountain face and speaking melodically in the ancient tongue, just as they had seen her do before at the wall of the tunnel in Eulsiphion when Pallin was taken. Estrien finished speaking and took a step backward, waiting.

  “What's the matter?” asked Baron.

  “It isn't working,” she declared. “The door won't respond to my command. We'll have to find another way in.”

  That was no small matter. The mountain face was sheer and smooth, towering hundreds of feet overhead. Baron took a few steps forward and crouched down, placing his hands on the mountain face. But the rock was harder than he expected.

  “I have an idea,” he said.

  Taking a few steps to his right, he placed the palms of his hands against the stone. After a moment, the rock began to subtly swirl. Pushing his fingers inward, he made a handhold of sorts, easy to grab. Fashioning similar holds higher up, he slowly ascended the sheer wall. A few minutes passed and they found themselves above the treeline, the forest floor many paces below. A fall from this height would surely kill them.

  Baron's heart beat quickly and his forearms burned. But he found that with the fright, the mountain stone responded more readily to his ability. Until now, he hadn't yet been able to submerge his hand beneath the surface of the stone the way he had when the Soul Stone first called him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his palm against the mountain, his fingers suddenly growing cold as they entered the liquid stone of the mountain.

  Scooping out a whole section of the mountain, he fashioned a much bigger and easier hand hold and continued to ascend. But once they had risen over a hundred feet in the air, a wi
nd picked up, chilling them. Baron needed to rest. So, plunging his hand fully into the wall, he began scooping out sections of the wall, enough to comfortably sit inside. Then, sitting down, he widened the small cleft until it was wide enough for all three to sit inside. Estrien came up next, and he offered her his hand until soon, all three were sitting side by side, feet dangling over the hundred foot drop.

  “Did you ever in your wildest dreams imagine yourself in a place like this, little brother?”

  Blair's head shook slowly in wonder. All around them, the forest of Thay Iphilus stretched away and in the great beyond, a hint of the golden plains could be seen. For some time, they sat in silence, recovering their strength, until the cold gusts of wind compelled them onward.

  “Do you think we're high enough to tunnel through?” Baron asked.

  “I don't know,” Estrien responded. “Let's try making it there.”

  Estrien's finger was outstretched toward a spot a hundred paces or so diagonally to the north where a large cleft sat with what appeared to be a level pathway into the mountain range. If a break in the peaks existed anywhere nearby, that was it.

  Baron set off, moving diagonally, which made their footholds harder to utilize and thus brought greater danger of falling. And with the added danger, his heart beat ever more quickly in his chest, causing the stone to liquefy even more readily. His arms burned with exhaustion but the fear of being trapped on the mountain drove them forward. At length, Baron finally pulled himself up onto the cleft in the mountain, lying on his back breathless. After a moment, he heard Estrien's hand come down beside him and he rolled over to help pull her upward.

  Then he stood to his feet and wandered about the small cleft, catching his breath. Blair arrived last, he too lying out of breath on the smooth stone, But Baron analyzed their surrounding, seeing with relief that a pathway of sorts did indeed exist into the mountain's interior.

  Resting a minute, the cold wind whipped with ever greater ferocity across their faces, sending them off for shelter. Estrien took the lead, moving cautiously down the narrow corridor, the wind whistling past them. All was desolate around them and Baron was struck by the notion that they were undoubtedly the first people ever to set foot in this place.

  They came to a spot too narrow to slide through and Baron glanced upward where the peak stretched up at least another hundred paces. But, seeing light on the other side of the corridor, he couldn't stomach the notion of climbing all the way up and around.

  “Blair, come help,” Baron said. “I want to try something.

  The twins each took a side of the crack, pulling it, trying to open it up like a pair of curtains. Very slowly and with great effort, the mountain face responded to their touch, widening by a few inches, though enough to gain them access. Estrien's eyes went wide with wonder and she entered the pathway through to the other side.

  “Estrien, how far to the Illian city?” Baron asked.

  “I don't know,” she responded. “Hopefully we'll arrive by nightfall.”

  The afternoon sun began to wane as their trek continued, many hours of traversing narrow pathways. But at least the ground stayed mostly level. Evening was upon them when at last their course came to a halt at the edge of a small cliff, a small, grassy valley before them, with sheer walls of stone rising up all around. At the far end by a small pool of water, an abandoned stone city sat in ruins amid huge chunks of stone.

  Everything was calm and still in the valley and they lingered many long minutes on the cliff, Estrien unwilling to go any further. Instead, they made camp and settled in for a long, cold night. Having a meal of dried fruits and meats, they waited for night to fall.

  Into the Maelstrom

  The indistinct sounds of battle emanated from just over the hillside in front of them, out of sight. Sheabor and the others were inside the Maelstrom, riding east deeper into barbarian territory. Someone was fighting, and they didn't know who. It couldn't be the giants already. Should they stop to investigate?

  Sheabor hesitated, discerning what little he could from the places just beyond their sight. At length, he charged forward up the hillside, revealing himself. What he saw surprised him – a large caravan of what appeared to be merchants being besieged by a raiding party. At least a dozen mounted warriors encircled the caravan, who had huddled into a tight ring against the greater numbers.

  Sheabor and the others galloped down the hillside, surprising the raiders who hadn't yet taken notice of them. With the Hammer of Haladrin in one hand and the large shield of Shade Stone in the other, he was a menacing force to contend with. Straiah, likewise carried the large battle axe of Shade Stone, while Gwaren wielded the sword of King Behlyn. Only Bowen seemed meagerly arrayed, long spear in hand and broadsword sheathed at his side.

  The group of marauders moved to engage the new threat, unwilling to abandon their prize. Sheabor took the lead, raising his shield to meet the blade of the first warrior, which glanced cleanly off and away. The other warriors met in an eruption of dust and chaos. Bowen's spear sent one marauder from his horse, while the axe of Straiah ended another's life.

  Sheabor turned his horse to make another pass, the merchants watching in amazed silence at their unexpected rescuers but for one young man, who rode forward to aid in the defense. Sheabor advanced against a horseman, blocking another blow and swinging back with his hammer. The marauder ducked the blow of the hammer and raised his sword for a powerful down thrust. But Sheabor acted more quickly, swinging his shield into the man's body, knocking him from his horse and to the ground, unconscious.

  The young merchant galloped forward, striking the horse of one of the marauders with his own horse and knocking the man off balance. He swung a recovery blow at the merchant, who ducked it, and then ended the marauder's life with a slash to the torso. Straiah, Gwaren and Bowen had killed another pair of raiders but the advantage was still two to one against them.

  Even so, the cost was growing high and their taste for battle waning. Turning to retreat, Sheabor and the others let them depart, the marauders disappearing behind the hillside. Sheabor dismounted and approached the caravan. An older man sat on a large horse in front of the group. The young merchant who had engaged the marauders rode up to the older man and came to rest at his side – the man's son by the look of him. The group was on their guard against Sheabor, not yet knowing their intent. But the older man seemed clearly in awe of the weapons and armor they carried. Sheabor sheathed the hammer as a gesture of good faith, as did the others.

  “I am Sheabor. These are my companions set out from the city, Ogrindal. We track a war party of the Bearoc across the Maelstrom.”

  “You have saved us,” said the lead man. “My sincerest gratitude to you and your warriors.”

  The young man clenched his jaw, clearly believing he could have taken the band of raiders on single-handedly. Sheabor smiled, recalling the days of his youth, when he'd carried similar notions of invincibility.

  “I am Jaithur. These are my family and attendants, and my eldest son, Sorren. We travel westward toward the lands of Kester, away from the kingdom of the Horctura.”

  “You fight well,” said Sheabor, giving a bow to the young man, who returned his gesture. “But the Maelstrom is no place for travelers and merchants.”

  “The whole of the barbarian kingdom is now no place for travelers and merchants,” responded the head man.

  His response was surprising.

  “Why?” Sheabor asked. “What's happened here?”

  “It began weeks ago,” he said. “The first village fell with no survivors, wiped clean as the dunes after a storm. Something attacked them...an ancient malice without pity. The second town fell only days later. The fortresses of the Horctura – Hadrach, Baliac, and Trakhendor – are on heightened alert, with only warriors permitted to come and go. None now suffer the company of our kind to hide behind their walls. We and the others like us have been expelled, with no choice but to flee. We risk marauder and Maelstrom and escape the
se lands.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “The kingdom of Kester. Or the forgotten wilds between here and there, if Kester too has closed its borders.”

  His declarations struck Sheabor. This was a man of privilege, used to castles and great halls – a shrewd man, not given to reckless endeavors. That a man like this would take his entire family into the wild spoke volumes.

  “You fight valiantly,” the man said. “But you travel in the wrong direction. Valiance will not save you from it. It is the Whiclah – The Destroyer.”

  Sheabor didn't take his meaning. Glancing to Gwaren and Bowen, they both shook their heads, neither having heard that name before. It must have been something from barbarian legend.

  “It is the giants who are ravaging these lands,” Bowen said.

  “No,” the man responded. “It is not.”

  “What is a Whiclah?” Sheabor asked.

  “An ancient evil, a spirit that cannot be killed. It awakens to purify the kingdom of all weakness.”

  “A spirit monster?” said Bowen.

  “Scoff if you like. But when in the last thousand years have giants come to slaughter barbarians?”

  Bowen had no response.

  “Come with us,” urged the merchant. “You will have a great reward when we reach the lands of Kester.”

  “I appreciate your offer but we've many other things to attend to,” Sheabor said. “You're very near the edge of the barbarian kingdom now. You should be safe through the rest of your journey.”

  “I must give you something, a token for your valor,” the man said.

  “You owe us nothing.”

  “Please,” the man complained. “You dishonor me.”

  “Gold and treasures will only burden us,” Sheabor said. “Save them for the beginning of your new life.”

  “Then allow me to disburden you,” he said, dismounting his horse. “This is Agur, my horse. Now he is your horse.”

  The animal truly was magnificent, jet black, larger and more powerful than the horse that Sheabor had been riding. And he had a restless fire in his eyes. Sheabor bowed to the man.