“Who are you?” the giant asked.
“We're of the house, Cavanah,” Straiah replied. “Come from the Banished Lands to warn the Eastern Realm of the return of Corcoran.”
“I'm sorry,” the giant replied. “I mistook you for the others.”
“What others?” Straiah asked. “What happened?”
“They led us into a trap,” the giant replied. “We've been tracking them for weeks. This morning we thought we'd finally overtake them. But they sent two of their warriors, each with a half dozen horses toward a large barbarian patrol. We were close behind, thinking they meant to ambush the barbarians. But once the barbarians saw them, they slaughtered the two warriors and then made for us. They were willing to sacrifice two of their own to lead us to our doom.”
The giant motioned with his eyes toward a slain warrior a stone's throw away, the same warrior Sheabor had seen earlier. Clad in dark armor whose construction seemed like that of the old world, Sheabor could see why the giant had mistaken Sheabor and the others for them.
“Who are they?” Straiah asked.
“Six weeks ago, our people saw something,” the giant began. “From the highest height of our southernmost tower, we caught sight of a ship, derelict and adrift upon the waters of the sea, tattered and beaten from the elements. It was dead upon the waters for longer than any can say. How they reached our shores, none can tell. But they landed nonetheless. And with them came death.
When the ship stuck fast against the sands of shore, we saw that it was no ordinary vessel of Kester carried out to sea by a storm and hobbling its way home. This was something different – something ancient. It was a ship come from the Banished Lands. The ship made port on some forgotten sandy beach. At first, we hoped it was something from the lands of Forthura, some strange explorer driven out west by storm. But as they landed, out poured warriors equipped as from the First Age. Their weapons and armor were such that no man can now construct.
Though we could not believe it true, we knew exactly what had come – the forces of Corcoran. We assembled a force with all speed and set out after them a day after their arrival. But they were far ahead of us, and they quickly acquired horses from the first of their conquests. We did not know their intent. They seemed first to set their sights upon the lands of Kester. But something made them abandon to the lands of the Horctura. The barbarians put up less resistance than we expected. Many settlements fell to the swords of Corcoran's elite force.”
They finally had the answers. The giants hadn't been ravaging the Horctura. They'd been tracking an elite war party from the Banished Lands sent to cause chaos on the Eastern Realm. It had worked. Corcoran must have sent a second force, perhaps even without Malfur's knowledge. From what the giant had described, it sounded as though they'd been lost at sea for months, finally landing on the western shores of Kester.
Sheabor finally caught his breath.
“That's quite a grip you have,” he joked.
The giant smiled wide behind his broad helmet but then removed it, extending his hand.
“I am Drogan, captain of the war party sent to eradicate the threat of Corcoran.”
Sheabor stepped forward and took his hand.
“I am Sheabor, Lord of the House, Cavanah.”
“How have you come to be on this continent?” Drogan asked.
“Though we don't know how, long ago Corcoran bound his spirit to the Banished Lands. He's been moving the continent for centuries, back toward the Eastern Realm. The Windbearer, Malfur, was trapped on the Banished Lands after the Great War. He sided with Corcoran and led a group of Dungeon Core across a bridge of ice to the southern places of the Eastern Realm. My companion, Straiah, and I followed him to warn this continent. With the help of the barbarians, Malfur waged war against King Froamb and nearly overwhelmed Forthura. But our enemies were defeated by a thin stroke of fate.”
Drogan weighed what Sheabor said heavily. One of Drogan's men had begun to lean on his sword during the conversation, merely standing now a taxing labor for him. Drogan spoke to his two warriors in their own language. One of his two men returned a response.
“Your men are injured,” Sheabor said. “Their wounds need tending.”
The warrior who leaned against his sword straightened his posture.
“We cannot linger here,” Drogan said. “The barbarians will soon return. My brothers make for Aeleos to report on all you have told us. I will accompany you to track down and destroy the rest of Corcoran's elite force.”
With that, Drogan spoke again in the language of the Bearoc and the two injured warriors set off without a word and Sheabor found Agur still close by.
“Come,” said Drogan, and made northward.
“Wait,” Sheabor said. “Where are you heading? We've been tracking you southward for nearly a week.”
Drogan paused and his countenance grew thoughtful.
“Before we were ambushed, they'd been moving as though to invade the kingdom of Forthura. But yesterday, they turned sharply round in their tracks back toward the Maelstrom. It must have all been a ruse to lead us into a conflict with the forces of Trakhendor.”
“Lead the way,” Sheabor said.
Then the group set off, riding hours in silence as Drogan searched for the last place his band of giants had spotted the trail of Corcoran's warriors. Sheabor was overjoyed at the tidings, that the Bearoc hadn't betrayed them as Malfur had, and that they had turned their attentions away from Forthura. But it seemed odd. The barbarians were no threat to Corcoran and now that their existence was exposed, what good would it do to keep attacking settlements of the Horctura?
Sheabor felt like something was missing. But what? The only other thing to the north was the Ruhkan Mountains where Ogrindal was. That and the Illian city. But Corcoran couldn't know of its existence, or that two Builders had gone there for training. But something about it all caused a pang of fear. Corcoran had consistently been a step ahead of them.
Sheabor chose to hope for the best. If they continued their course, they'd be back with the others more quickly than they hoped and could pick up Baron and Blair along the way to get them started on the alliance city.
“Where do you think they're heading?” Straiah said, riding up beside Sheabor.
“I don't know.”
“We should talk about their motivations to figure out where they'll strike next,” Straiah continued. “Surely they won't keep ravaging barbarian settlements.”
“Agreed,” Sheabor said.
“Where does that leave us, then?” Bowen asked. “They'd never invade Kester. Our fortress K'venneh would crush them before they made it past the borderlands.”
“And if they make for Ogrindal, the Forest Guard will deal with them speedily,” Gwaren said. “Regardless of what armor they wear, my forest warriors know Thay Iphilus like the backs of their hands. Attacking there would be suicide.”
“What if they've somehow learned of the existence of Baron and Blair?” Straiah asked.
Though Sheabor had also thought that, it wasn't possible. Unless they somehow had spies in Ogrindal. But how could that be? Any outsider would've been recognized immediately.
“Who or what are Baron and Blair?” Drogan asked.
“Our companions from King Froamb's people. They're Builders, with abilities from the old world.”
“Builders,” Drogan exclaimed.
“It's a long story,” Sheabor replied. “Are you people familiar with the existence of the Soul Stone?”
Drogan considered for a long moment.
“I don't believe so.”
“It was built in the old world – the pinnacle of the efforts of the Three Houses, created just before the Great War, one of the only times the Houses ever worked together. The Soul Stone was unique, different than any expected, with abilities we don't fully know. The Soul Stone saw in Baron that he possessed Builder abilities and it drew them out.”
“Sheabor, I see something,” said Bowen suddenly, pointing to the
ground beside him. Straiah also chimed in, spotting tracks of his own. It was indeed a trail of many horses, heading northward in unison. The tracks showed no evidence of concealment, and the footprints were side by side, making no effort to hide their numbers. They either expected the giants to be wiped out, or at least diminished enough to pose no further threat. Perhaps they were hoping that what few giants survived the barbarians would find the tracks and follow them, giving the elite force the chance to wipe out the rest.
The tracks were fresh, not more than a few hours old. In the hazy distance, the snow capped peaks of the Ruhkan Mountains could be seen, many leagues off. If things went their way, they might even catch Corcoran's forces unprepared. Surprise was now on their side.
But the day was growing late and they rode only a few hours more, Sheabor telling Drogan of their plans to build an alliance city on the borderlands connecting four kingdoms, and to use it as a staging area for the coming of Corcoran. He spoke also of King Euthor, and the powers of the three Windbearers locked away in an orb in King Euthor's tomb. Drogan told of Faigean, the third Windbearer, who had dwelt in the lands of Aeleos for over an eon.
If only they had contacted the giants sooner. But now, things were again spiraling out of control. An elite force of Corcoran was at large in the lands of the Horctura and Forthura. Their mission seemed clear: to cause as much chaos as possible, and keep the peoples of the Eastern Realm off their balance. And it was working. Sheabor had already lost much time in tracking them. They should have already begun laying the foundation for their alliance city. Even with the help of Baron and Blair, they may not make it in time.
As night approached, the haze cleared and the looming Ruhkan Mountains stood starkly in the distance. Though they were very far from Ogrindal or Thay Iphilus Forest, the Ruhkan range began inside the Maelstrom, continuing north nearly the rest of the continent. By nightfall, they had already entered the highlands at the foothills of the first mountain. Though none yet knew how it could be possible, Corcoran's elite force seemed to be heading straight for Baron, Blair and Estrien.
The Crucible
The sun shone brightly down upon the warm city, the distant plains a golden gleam against the vivid sky. Blair took in a deep breath and descended from his home in Eulsiphion, through the bustling town square, greeting those he passed by. He was late for his studies, as usual. But his skill had grown much in recent days, both his and Baron's. They might just stand a chance in the competition to see who would join King Cithran to build the wondrous new Illian city.
Crossing town square, he made for the classroom, preparing his best excuse. But something in his periphery caught his attention – a woman walking perpendicular to him toward the other side of town. Adorned in a white flowing gown, something about her struck him as familiar. Pausing, Blair watched as the woman came to the edge of the town square, where a broad-shouldered man embraced her, picking her up and twirling her round in the air as though they'd long been apart.
Blair took a few steps toward them, curiosity getting the better of him. The man and woman lingered long, gazing into one another's eyes. But as Blair approached them, when he was yet a stone's throw away, the pair turned their eyes to him, gazing right at him. Embarrassment hit him at having been watching them, but as they held their gaze, memories began to flow back to him and he remembered just who this couple was. It was King Euthor and Sheyla.
The couple turned round a corner and disappeared and Blair stood dumbfounded in the middle of town square. He remembered who he was and where he was, that this was just a vision, a trick for his mind. Blair waited for the vision to collapse, to find himself back in the glowing cavern, but after minutes of waiting, nothing changed.
But the people in the town square seemed to take notice of Blair, watching him. He suddenly grew troubled, for he and Baron were still completely at the mercy of the Illian city. He had yet to find any means of escape. So he set off toward the classroom, arriving in short order. Relieved to find Baron, he rushed over to him, sitting beside him and gazing at him intently. Was this the real Baron or just another fabrication?
“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...”
Blair looked at the instructor, mouth gaping without a reply.
“Never mind that.”
When Blair had seated himself, the instructor waited for many moments, until the students all gave him their full and undivided attention. It was just the same as before. Before him lay four piles of sand, each distinct in color and texture. Baron and Blair had similar piles before them as well. Blair leaned close to Baron.
“Baron, what's the last thing you remember before we started these classes?” Blair asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“What were we going to do before we decided to enter the competition for building the new Illian city?”
Baron looked at him quizzically, as though the question were nonsense. But his eyes narrowed slightly, as though he struggled to remember.
“Silence,” said the professor.
Then he began to teach. Blair gazed at the piles of sand in front of him, placing his fingertips into the various materials. It was then that he felt the strangeness of it. He could feel his own power growing but something else was present within him as well, something he couldn't define. He noticed it for the very first time – the control of the Illian city over his mind. When he and Baron had first been captured, Estrien had said that the Illian city was using their powers against them. The city didn't possess the power to manipulate stone. But they could manipulate Baron and Blair.
Blair watched the sands dissolve around his fingertips, ignoring the lesson. As the sands began to swirl into a pool of liquid, he could feel that his power had grown considerably since being here. But the power of the Illian city over his mind was also strong. Blair closed his eyes and tried blocking out the force controlling him. As he did, he heard the instructor stop his lesson, and Blair looked up to see an angry look shot in his direction.
“What are you doing?” the instructor demanded.
“Nothing. I'm sorry. Just eager, I guess.”
Blair quickly removed his fingers, the piles of sand solidifying into awkward looking rocks on the table. The instructor eyed him suspiciously, but in the end continued his lesson. Baron was giving Blair a hard stare, so much so that it made Blair smile. He'd never seen Baron so focused on anything in his whole life. Trick or no, they'd made a fine student out of Baron.
The lesson came to a close and Baron and Blair walked into the cool evening air. When they had descended the steps, Baron turned to him.
“What's the matter with you these days?” Baron demanded.
Blair opened his mouth for reply, but didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure this was the real Baron.
“I dunno,” he responded.
“You aren't taking this seriously enough,” Baron replied. They're only going to select one pair of us to build the new city.”
But as Baron was speaking, Blair caught sight again of Sheyla moving swiftly through the city square.
“I promise, I'll do better tomorrow,” Blair said. “I'm sorry, I've got to go.”
“What? Where?”
“I'll explain everything tomorrow.”
Blair moved quickly through the town square in the failing afternoon light. Sheyla had already disappeared around the corner, and when he reached the same corner, she was nowhere to be seen. But he thought he saw a flutter of white silk down a dark alley in the corner of his eye and he made for it. Coming down the corridor, he was struck by a spell of dizziness.
Placing his hand against the wall, he struggled forward. A glow from an open room was just ahead and he turned the corner to find the broad-shouldered man sitting beside large piles of sand, working. Sheyla was nowhere to be seen.
�
�Hello?” Blair said but the man remained silent.
Blair's heart was beating quickly. He didn't know what to do. The dizziness hit him again and he felt almost as though he was being subtly dragged away from this place. His time here was short. Why had Sheyla brought him here? What did she want him to see?
Blair took a step forward to King Euthor, bending down just in front of him. He watched as the piles of sand turn to clay in his hands, forming them into the wondrous Omnivar stone of the Illian city. The man still paid him no mind and Blair felt suddenly faint. The vision was slowly fading.
But a notion struck Blair and he reached his hand slowly forward toward the piles of sand the man worked with. King Euthor still paid him no mind. Blair's closest finger reached the edge of the sand but he felt nothing. He reached further still, plunging both of his hands into the pile of sand and exerting his Builder ability into the pile of sand.
Then he gazed intently at the face of the ancient king, who had hesitated for the moment. But the king resumed his work, placing his hand once more into the pile Blair's hands were submerged in. Instantly Blair felt a surge of power. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. But the dizziness hit him even stronger than before and he felt sick to his stomach. His vision began to fade and sounds grew dull.
King Euthor paused in his work and lifted his eyes, gazing directly at Blair. His stare seemed to knock Blair back, out of the room and into the darkness of the alleyway. When Blair opened his eyes, his surroundings were completely different. He found himself back in the cavern of the Illian city, standing in a pool of colorful liquid.
But something was different than before. Blair could feel it immediately. The stone swirling about that had always resisted his touch, now felt like any other common stone. It was exhilarating and overwhelming. He could sense that the city knew something was wrong, like they were trying to force their way back into his mind through the liquid stone. But Blair resisted them with ease.
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 40
