The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  Just then, an arrow came in, glancing off Sheabor's breastplate from a nearby archer. Straiah and Gwaren were still engaged with a half dozen horsemen of the Horctura but in a flurry of dust and flailing arms, the giants were out of sight just ahead.

  Just then, two barbarians were hurled through the air with a cry toward Sheabor and Bowen. Agur reared backward to avoid the impact, nearly knocking Sheabor from his horse as the pair of barbarians hit the ground hard and bounced a number of paces beyond. Bowen gave Sheabor a wide smile.

  “Help Gwaren and Straiah!” Sheabor yelled.

  Bowen nodded and the two charged off in opposite directions. Agur seemed to sense Sheabor's intent, for he surged into the crowd of barbarian pikemen, swinging his hind quarter left and right as he went, knocking many of the warriors to the ground. Sheabor swung with his sword, killing two pikemen before entering the small group of giants they encircled.

  Out-manned ten to one, the Bearoc were huddled tightly together, each wielding a large broadsword that kept the spearmen of the Horctura largely at bay. The pikemen stabbed at Sheabor as he rode through their midst, the Shade Stone shield and armor sending every blow glancing away. The giants took advantage of his arrival and moved against the pikemen as well.

  Straiah, Bowen and Gwaren were still engaged with the cavalry and archers behind, and not knowing how many warriors were with Sheabor, the pikemen seemed to lose taste for battle and began to disperse. They had accomplished their mission. Though a handful of the Bearoc still lived, their threat in the barbarian kingdom had ended. They would do no more harm here.

  Sheabor and the giants let them go, but as they did, without warning, one of the Bearoc warriors leaped toward Sheabor, grasping him round his torso, pulling him from his mount and pinning him to the earth. Sheabor couldn't move. Rage was in the giant's gaze, piercing out from his thick iron helmet.

  “You may have ambushed us,” the giant growled. “But I won't rest until I see the rest of your warriors slain in the dust.”

  Sheabor didn't know what to do. His mind swam in fright and confusion. What was he talking about? The giant was squeezing the life out of him. But suddenly a thought entered his mind. The dead warrior Sheabor had seen earlier had been wearing armor similar to the Shade Stone armor Sheabor was wearing. Sheabor tried to speak but had no breath in his lungs. His world spun and sounds began to grow dull.

  “Let him go,” commanded Straiah.

  The giant shot a hateful look to the new arrival, his grip on Sheabor unwavering. Sheabor felt himself losing consciousness.

  Visions

  Blair stood in front of Baron, heart racing, and Baron's outstretched hand beckoned his brother to join him in the pool of swirling color.

  “Baron, we need to leave,” urged Blair.

  “Leave? No. They need our help, Blair. They want us to rebuild their city.”

  Blair froze in indecision. What were they doing to Baron? His eyes, a steely gray, seemed otherworldly.

  “Baron, we came here to help Sheabor, remember? We don't have time to build a whole city. They must understand that.”

  “Sheabor?” Baron responded, as if confused by the name. “Yes, yes. All in good time. You'll understand once you step into the pool. They're trapped, Blair. Just like the Night Wanderers. We need to help them. They've been waiting twelve centuries for a Builder to come to their city.”

  Blair gulped.

  The pool of color immersing Baron undulated, sending a small stream slithering toward Blair. Blair jumped back. The rhythmic color of the cavern pulsated a slight red.

  “No, don't do that,” said Baron in concern over his shoulder to some unknown listener. “He'll help us.”

  Then Baron turned back to Blair.

  “You will help us, wont you Blair?”

  Blair didn't know what to do. He was frozen in panic.

  “They don't want to hurt you Blair. Step into the pool.”

  The stream of liquid moved toward him again. Blair wanted to run away with everything inside him. But he couldn't keep resisting. They'd surely kill him. They already had Baron. They didn't need him. There was nothing he could do. Blair let the liquid touch his foot and closed his eyes. As it did, his imagination took flight, visions of the old Illian city filling his mind.

  The liquid climbed toward his torso and began pulling him toward the pool. Blair could feel his own thoughts being pushed out of the way, like being caught up in a daydream. Soon, he'd be overtaken like Baron. Hopefully Estrien would find a way to save them. Then he entered the pool.

  Meanwhile, Estrien, alone in the middle of the desolate city, drew deep and anxious breaths of air.

  “I am your kin!” Estrien shouted to the air. “Please release my friends! They mean you no harm.”

  But only the breeze answered her. How could Aravas have sent them here? Estrien had searched everywhere for a way inside the inner city, with not so much as a hairline crack in the chunk of mountain. She was helpless. But as she stood there, heaving deep breaths of air, a rustle in a pile of rubble just behind her sent some small pebbles down onto the road. Estrien whipped round, sword and dagger brandished to an empty street. But something in the shadows caught her eye, a stone that seemed to carry a yellowish, greenish hue. Estrien stepped toward it cautiously though she dare not touch it.

  Leave

  The voice emanated from all around, just as before though with more furor this time. Estrien hesitated, something about the situation striking her. The greenish yellow stone seemed inviting, as though calling to her. And it seemed the city wanted to keep her at bay. What if they were trying to trick her, knowing she'd never willingly touch one of the stones of the city?

  Estrien was out of options. She couldn't just stand here and do nothing. So, taking another step forward, she reached out her hand, placing it squarely against the greenish yellow stone amid the pile of rubble.

  Meanwhile, Blair awoke in bed, the morning rays of light filtering lightly through the window. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, a feeling of dizziness coming over him. For the moment, he couldn't remember just where he was. He had awoken in a dream of him and his brother with some woman in an ancient city. But the dream was quickly fading and with it, the disorientation.

  He was late for his studies. Without another thought, he sprang from bed and threw on his clothes, out the doors in minutes and into the city, Eulsiphion. The sun was shining brightly down on the warm city, the distant plains a golden gleam against the vivid sky. Blair took in a deep breath and descended from his home through the bustling city toward the square, greeting those he passed by. Eulsiphion was beautiful in the early morning, a city he had come to love, his home.

  Blair crossed the town square, round the flowing fountain, to the far side, where a small, raised building lay. Ascending the steps, he opened the large wooden doors to find the classroom already full of young men, Baron among them with an empty chair beside him. The teacher, an old man with a flowing white robe, wore a stern look.

  “Late again, I see,” said the instructor. “Perhaps more urgent business seeks your time than the building of a city that will stand for a thousand years.”

  “I'm sorry,” responded Blair. “I was, uh. I slept in I guess.”

  A bit of disorientation hit him.

  “Never mind that,” said the instructor. “Sit down.”

  Then the instructor waited for many moments, until each student gave him their full and undivided attention. In front of him were four piles of sand, each distinct in color and texture. Similar piles occupied the desks of each student. The instructor held his hand to the sands.

  “What is stone?” he asked. “What makes it different from water, or dirt, or air? And when a stone is smashed to powder, like the piles you see before you, how can it be made stronger anew?”

  The instructor took a pinch of sand from two piles and sprinkled them together on the table before him. Some of the others did likewise. Baron leaned toward Blair.

  “Where wer
e you?”

  Blair opened his mouth for an answer, but he didn't know what to say. He didn't exactly recall.

  “You sleep overmuch,” said Baron. “You've got to take this more seriously. They're only going to choose one pair of us to build the new city.”

  Then Blair remembered. He and Baron were one of four pairs in training to compete for the honor of working with the king of Eulsiphion in crafting a new city for the House, Kester. The city was to be equal in splendor to Eulsiphion itself, seated amid the Ruhkan Mountain range. Only a handful of Builders possessed the skill to mold Omnivar stone in the likeness of Eulsiphion, and the twins had been training for longer than Blair could remember just for a chance to get to work on a project so grand.

  The lesson lasted all day, as usual. By the end, the instructor had molded nearly a dozen unique forms of stone from different combinations of the sands in front of him. Blair was happy for the chance to see his skill improve, but something about it all seemed lacking. He didn't have the same motivation as Baron to craft a grand city.

  Descending the classroom stairs into the evening air, Blair gazed out again over the city. Already the oil lamps were being lit and people were reclining all about the grassy parks. But something caught his eye – a woman in a white silken dress walking through the crowd. She was beautiful and something about her seemed to strike a chord in Blair's memory, as though he had met her before.

  Blair was drawn to her and followed at a distance. She seemed to walk with a sense of urgency. Losing sight of her as she rounded the corner of town square, Blair picked up his pace, barely in time to see her disappear into a dark alleyway. Though hesitant to follow her further, something compelled him forward.

  Blair traveled down the darkened alleyway and was hit by a spell of dizziness and disorientation. Reaching out to the the wall for support, the alleyway grew darker and a light seemed to glow at the end of it. Ambling forward, he found himself at an open door, the woman standing at the far end, speaking with a man seated in a chair with large piles of sand all around him. He was crafting Omnivar stone.

  “I'm sorry,” Blair said, suddenly embarrassed to have followed her, now standing in the open doorway.

  But neither the man nor the woman paid him any mind, almost as though they hadn't even heard him. Blair felt another wave of dizziness and disorientation. Glancing to the window, he could see stars outside. But only a minute ago, it had been mid afternoon. Suddenly, he couldn't remember where he was anymore. He felt detached from the scene, as though a mere watcher.

  The woman in the white silken dress seemed to be watching the man fondly as he slowly did his work, crafting beautiful stones for the foundation of some building. But slowly, she wandered over to him, drawing her fingertips along his broad shoulders. Reaching up, he took one of her hands in his and held it as he worked with the other.

  “This will be a grand city, my love,” she said, stooping down and placing her chin on his other shoulder. “Finishing it will honor your father's memory.”

  The man breathed deep as she said it – a mixture of pride, duty, and loss in his countenance.

  “But you must soon return to Eulsiphion,” she said. “There are rumors of a darkness stirring in the west. Your people grow worried. The name of Corcoran has been spoken in the shadows. The people need your guidance.”

  A grave look entered his countenance. Stopping his work, he looked up to meet her gaze with a sigh and she placed her hands on his cheeks with a smile. Sighing again, but this time a sigh of fondness, he looked into her eyes. Something about it made Blair's heart beat faster. It felt so familiar, though he was sure he had never been here before.

  “I must go,” she said at length.

  Distress returned to his eyes and the man opened his mouth to forestall her, but she spoke first.

  “I go to bring comfort to the outlying cities.”

  Opening his mouth again in protest, she stopped him.

  “It's more important for you to remain here – to finish what your father started.”

  His mouth was still open as though trying to find the right words. But at length, he hung his head and nodded slowly, returning to his work.

  “Here,” she said, and unclasped the necklace she wore, which contained a brightly colored blue jewel. “Take this. When you reach the Athel stone, you can find me wherever I am.”

  She placed the necklace in the man's hand and then kissed him. He held her tightly, unwilling to let her go, but she left all the same, glancing backward as she went. Brushing past Blair, paying him no mind, she disappeared down the dark alleyway. For long moments, the man gazed down at the necklace in his hand, then clasped it around his own neck and resumed his work.

  But something stalled him and his eyes rose up from his work to where Blair still stood. He was gazing right at Blair, his gaze piercing. Blair was hit by another wave of dizziness that nearly knocked him from his feet. Searching for the wall with one hand and clenching his temples in the other, he steadied himself and took a deep breath.

  When he opened his eyes, everything had changed. He was standing in a dark cavern, with brightly pulsating colors all around him. Like a flood, his memories returned. He and Baron were still trapped inside the Illian city, which had taken control of his thoughts.

  But something had sprung him free of their fantasy world. The woman and the man in the vision must have done it. Now in his right mind, he suddenly remembered who she was – Sheyla, the wife of King Euthor. He had seen the beautiful form of Sheyla encased in crystal in a tomb in the Shady Marshes, the same woman he had just seen in the vision. Somehow, beyond his understanding, he'd been watching events from long ago, from a time before the Great War.

  Blair's thoughts were racing. He remembered what Estrien had told him about the Illian city. She had said that the Illian city had never been completed, that it had been a project begun by King Euthor's father, King Cithran, who had died before the city's completion. King Euthor had taken up his father's work to honor his memory, but the Great War started before the city was finished.

  That's what he had seen in the vision. Sheyla had come to him, concerned over the growing reports of an evil stirring in the west. But instead of him going, she went in his stead and never returned. The Great War began and she was cut off from her home. Blair hadn't ever really considered it before, what had happened to King Euthor and Sheyla, the heartbreak of it all.

  Now, having seen them in the flesh, it filled him with grief. King Euthor must have used her necklace to find her...must have gone to Eulsiphion and touched the Athel stone, only to see her lying slain in a field. Blair recalled the poem inscribed on the side of Sheabor's hammer. It spoke to him now, like never before.

  But an anger began to build inside of Blair. Sheyla only died because King Euthor was caught up building the Illian city in honor of his father's memory. Now, that same city was trying to make Blair a slave to their bidding. Blair clenched his jaws and gazed about but Baron was nowhere to be seen. Blair didn't know how yet, but he was going to escape this place, him and Baron.

  Meanwhile, Estrien held in her hands the yellowish green stone of the city, her imagination taking flight with images and scenes of the ancient Illian city. But the images were a flood, nearly overwhelming her and she didn't know what to make of them. And with the flood of images came a rush of emotion, a profound isolation and loneliness, and an almost longing for the release of death. The feeling was so intense that she nearly dropped the stone, but it subsided, and her imagination erupted into motion once again.

  The stone brought her mind's eye back to long ago, when a group of half a dozen travelers from Melanor found the Illian city. The city captured them, as it did both Baron and Blair. They held a great meeting, trying to decide what to do with the travelers. Some, like the stone in Estrien's hands, wanted to let the travelers go. But the rest had grown bitter. They killed the travelers and ostracized those who still carried goodness in their hearts. Estrien felt a pity well up inside
her. To be trapped all this time, alone and unable to die and be at peace. What a terrible fate.

  The stone brought her mind's eye to something else. Delving deep underground, the heat of molten lava was all around her. It was loud with a cacophony of voices and the heat was difficult to bear. Estrien didn't know what she was witnessing. But then, a voice arose above the others and the rest were stilled. The voice belonged to Corcoran! Those from the Illian city were somehow communicating with him in the deep places of the world.

  Estrien couldn't exactly make out what was being said. It was as though a muffled conversation in a crowded room. But bits and pieces came through. Corcoran told them of his coming return, promising to rebuild their city if they aided him in his struggle. Then the vision ended and Estrien's world returned.

  Her heart and mind were racing at the things she had just seen. Somehow, beyond explanation, the Illian city was in league with Corcoran, though she was at a loss as to what Corcoran wanted from them or how the city could aid him. But Corcoran had outwitted them in many ways. Malfur had come to their continent undetected, and had nearly conquered half of it without anyone being the wiser. Clearly, Corcoran had been supplied with valuable information, information that perhaps had come from her disappeared kinsmen. And now Corcoran would know that two Builders had arisen upon the Eastern Realm, the first Builders to be born in twelve hundred years.

  Part 4

  Answers

  Sheabor was pinned to the earth, the leader of the Bearoc looking hatefully into his eyes. He'd heard Straiah's voice but sounds were growing dull and his vision was tunneling. The giant shot his eyes to Straiah, and after a moment, Sheabor thought he felt the giant's grip loosen. Then the giant looked back to Sheabor, but this time his countenance had softened and he analyzed Sheabor carefully. After another long moment, he finally released his grip. Sheabor drew in a deep breath and rolled onto his side, coughing, before pushing himself up slowly.