The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  Was King Euthor really communicating with Blair? It didn't seem possible. But Baron recalled Durian saying something similar, having dreams he knew meant something more. Still, Blair's manner worried Baron. He'd changed since the Illian city, more than just growing in power. Whatever was happening to him, it seemed to consume his thoughts.

  “Speaking of dreams,” Blair said. “I think I'll head off to bed.”

  Blair departed, leaving Baron alone. Drogan, the giant was sitting silently nearby but Baron was wary to casually approach him. But now alone, Baron's thoughts began to wander to Ariadra, wanting nothing more than to tell her about everything that'd happened. His heart sank, knowing they weren't going to Ogrindal and not knowing when he would ever see her again.

  But what could he do about it? Estrien had sacrificed her life to see him and Blair kept safe. Baron couldn't just strike off on his own to go and find some girl, no matter what he felt for her. Turning to Sheabor, he and Bowen were still deep in conversation. A wave of exhaustion suddenly swept over Baron and he retired to bed.

  Baron awoke to the sound of commotion, the others making ready to depart. Joining them, they ate a small meal and swiftly departed northwest through the trees, traveling for the better part of the morning in silence. After midday, the group broke through the treeline and emerged into sunshine, the grasses of the plains reminding Baron and Blair surprisingly of the Commonwealth Pasturelands of Suriya. The plains were mostly flat with rolling hills scattered along the places they would soon travel and a looming mountain peak far in the distance.

  “Where do we travel from here?” Baron asked.

  Sheabor nodded his head toward the snow-capped peak.

  “There,” he replied. “If things have gone according to plan, preparations will already have begun.”

  “Preparations?”

  “That's where I told the others to gather,” Sheabor said.

  “Others?” Baron asked, his interest piqued.

  “You didn't think you were going to build it on your own, did you?” he asked with a smile.

  Then he surged forward on his horse, the rest close behind. Baron's heart beat quickly, nearly outpacing Sheabor as they rode through the plains. The sun began to set in the west, an auburn orange slowly filling the sky. The group rode up onto a small hill overlooking a broad basin that ran up to the single looming mountain. At the base of the hill was an array of tents, hundreds of them.

  Sheabor paused on the crest of the hill, breathing a deep breath of pride at how many had answered his call. Then he turned to the rest with a wide smile.

  “Welcome to the start of our new home.”

  He darted forward down the hill and into the broad basin and as they approached, Baron began to recognize the flags of different kingdoms. Melanor and Eulsiphion had high and colorful standards in the middle of the pack along with one that Baron didn't recognize, and off to the left, the colors of Ogrindal fluttered in the breeze.

  The group arrived and dismounted, a large crowd gathering to welcome them with wide eyes at the sight of Drogan, who was undoubtedly the first of the Bearoc any of them had seen. Drogan's presence was proof more than anything else that Sheabor's plan for an alliance city could actually unite all the peoples of the continent. Some men of Kester approached Bowen and saluted.

  “Captain, you've been authorized a hundred men at arms under your command. But Commander Rovak at K'venneh demands regular reports.”

  “Thank you,” Bowen replied.

  Others from Melanor approached Sheabor in great distress.

  “Lady Estrien,” one of them asked. “Has she fallen in battle?”

  “She was captured protecting our two Builders,” Sheabor responded. “Gwaren of Ogrindal and Straiah of Cavanah have gone to rescue her.”

  Baron looked around eagerly but saw no signs as yet of Ariadra. Blair walked to a nearby boulder, which looked as though the same kind of stone that made up the mountain just beyond. He placed the palm of his hand against it and closed his eyes. Sheabor came up behind him and watched. After many moments, Blair opened his eyes and met Sheabor's gaze.

  “This will do,” Blair said. “Not fantastically, but well enough.”

  “I hope so,” Sheabor said with a laugh. “It's all we have.”

  “Some of it should be pulverized into sands,” Blair continued. “Forming quality stone is as much about materials as it is the skill of the Builder. If you brought me a pile of swamp mud I could make a stone for you, but the quality would be very poor. The Builders of the First Age spent centuries experimenting with different kinds of sands, creating stones with marvelous properties, even magical ones. The Seer's Necklace King Euthor fashioned for Sheyla, for instance, was the only one of its kind.”

  Sheabor was impressed, opening his mouth to inquire further, but Blair departed without another word. Baron came up beside Sheabor, troubled as he watched his brother disappear into the crowd.

  “And I thought he was unsocial before,” Sheabor joked.

  But the swarming crowd clamored for Sheabor's attention, reporting on the numbers who'd gathered and what they'd already accomplished so far. Baron scarcely heard them, busy gazing outward, scanning the crowd, and growing quickly discouraged.

  Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned round to find the beautiful face of Ariadra just behind him. Elated, he scooped her up in his arms, twirling her about. She laughed and smiled, but as he set her down, she blushed at the public display and the many spectators. But Baron took her by the hand and stole her away from prying eyes.

  “I can't believe you're here,” he said, coming to rest and gazing at her.

  “Where else would I be?” she asked with a smile.

  Baron sighed long, so much so that she laughed.

  “I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. So much has happened.”

  But before they could say more, Sheabor mounted his horse and held up his hands to address the crowd.

  “Construction of the new alliance city begins in the morning.”

  With that, a roar erupted from the crowd. Baron hollered and Ariadra threw her head back in laughter.

  “For the first time, we have hope. We now stand as one united people against the ancient evil coming to once more threaten the world.”

  As Sheabor spoke, Baron felt a swell of pride like he never had before. It was like a dream. He couldn't believe it. How could a simple blacksmith from a forgotten, backwater town now be the chief architect in a project that would change the world? Sheabor dismounted and walked over to Baron as the crowd dispersed.

  “I hope I'm not disturbing.”

  “Not at all,” Ariadra said, pulling away from Baron, whose lament at her leaving showed on his face. “I'm sure there's still planning to do.”

  Then she wandered away, disappearing into the crowd. Sheabor smiled but Baron turned to him in exaggerated anger.

  “You could've told me!”

  “I wasn't certain she'd be here,” Sheabor replied, chuckling. “And I didn't want to get your hopes up. Besides, what's better in life than a wonderful surprise?”

  Baron chuckled and shook his head.

  “It's amazing, what you've done. How did you gather so many?”

  “We sent the word out before leaving into the Maelstrom. What you've seen isn't even the whole of our forces. These are just the laborers. We have caravans going back and forth from many regions, bringing food and supplies and necessary goods. This will be a project unlike any other. I still can't believe it's finally happening. When we first came to your lands, I thought the project hopeless. Your lands were so divided and scattered. The balance between peoples is fragile and not all have committed their full forces, but once they see the great progress we're making, they'll sign on with the rest. And once the giants come...”

  Sheabor was smiling ear to ear, elated. Things were working out better than anyone had hoped.

  “I want to show you and your brother to your tent,” Sheabor said. “We've sta
tioned you in the center of the community where you'll be safest. I wouldn't put it past Corcoran's forces to try and capture you again.”

  Baron nodded, scanning the crowd for signs of his brother. Though he didn't find him, he did see a group of people huddled around something, watching silently. Baron and Sheabor moved off, pushing through the masses until finding Blair, back turned to them, manipulating a solitary boulder. Many watched, but Blair seemed oblivious...lost in his own endeavors. Baron came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Come on,” Baron said. “Work starts tomorrow, remember?”

  Then the trio moved off, winding through the scattered tents until arriving at a much larger circular tent in the middle of the gathering.

  “Wow, well we appreciate the generous hospitality, but it's a little much don't you think?”

  Sheabor lifted his head back in laughter.

  “That's the council tent, where we'll hold our meetings. Your tent is next door.”

  Then he pointed to a tent just the same as all the others. Baron chuckled.

  “I'll be spending most of my time in the council tent,” Sheabor said. “So I'll be close by in case something happens. Get yourselves settled and then come and have something to eat. If you wish to bathe, follow the road until you see steam rising.”

  Then Sheabor departed. The thought of a warm bath was overwhelmingly appealing. There were fresh clothes laid out for them on their sleeping mats – leather pants, and a white woolen top. Baron exited the tent and hurried down the road, seeing steam rising in separate bands from behind a row of closely quartered tents. An older woman was shuffling about in and out of the tents and Baron approached.

  “To the right,” she said.

  Baron didn't take her meaning.

  “Men bathe to the right,” she clarified.

  Baron smiled with a nod and shoved off, soon finding himself immersed in warm water. A bath had never felt so good and he had to fend off sleep from overtaking him. But the desire to see Ariadra invigorated him and he hurried his pace and was soon speeding toward the center of town in his fresh garments. As he approached, he heard the sound of laughter, music, and the general clamor of many voices. There were fires going in various places and the warm smell of food emanating from all around. This was going to be an amazing place.

  Baron waded through the crowd looking for Ariadra. But something else quickly caught his attention – a warm cauldron of stew...his first warm meal since leaving Ogrindal. And it tasted as good as it smelled. Baron wandered the common area, listening to the various conversations. Mostly, the groups were keeping to their own factions, but a few more adventurous persons were mingling. Baron felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned round to see the smiling face of Ariadra. She was dressed similarly as he, with a white woolen top and leather leggings. Even in completely plain attire, she was still remarkably beautiful to him and he couldn't help staring at her, so much so that she blushed.

  “Did you get some food?” he asked.

  “Not yet. I was waiting for you.”

  Baron flushed red, glancing down to his already half eaten bowl of stew. Ariadra laughed, placing her hand on his arm.

  “It's okay,” she said. “You've been on a long journey.”

  “Have we ever!” he replied.

  Then they made for the large cauldron, and took a seat by a small fire.

  “You didn't come alone, did you?” Baron asked. “Is your sister here?”

  “She wanted to come, but my father wouldn't let us both go. He's a member of the council so he has to be careful. This project has divided Ogrindal. Whinden and many of the council members have denounced it as foolish. If not for Gwaren joining with Sheabor, none from Ogrindal would have come.”

  Baron nodded slowly.

  “Did it work?” she asked. “Did you and your brother find the Illian city?”

  “Found it and nearly got tricked into rebuilding it,” he said with a laugh.

  She gave him a curious look.

  “It's a long story.”

  She smiled.

  “Actually, I guess it's not that long.”

  Then Baron sat up straight and recounted to her, in a very animated manner, the details of their imprisonment and escape, of the strange encounters Blair had had with Sheyla and King Euthor. Ariadra listened, smiling at his expressions and enthusiasm. But when he came to the part about the warriors in black armor finding them and Estrien's capture, his countenance turned downcast and he paused.

  “The others told me Estrien was captured,” Ariadra said.

  “She was protecting us...took on a whole squadron of the enemy elites. You should have seen her. Somehow the enemy found us in the Ruhkan Mountains. I'm not sure how.”

  Baron turned his eyes back to Ariadra's and was struck by a powerful wave of feeling. Only weeks ago, Estrien and Straiah were just as he and Ariadra were now, sitting around a fire, love-looking eyes gazing tenderly. He remembered how happy they were. And now, here he was with Ariadra, feeling invincible with the same danger still lurking all around them.

  “One thing's for certain,” Baron said. “I'll never take my life for granted again.”

  Ariadra placed her hand on Baron's shoulder and he took her hand in his. He brushed the long locks of her brown hair away from her eyes and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingertips. Then he kissed her.

  The moment was perfect and his heart surged with a feeling of joy he had never before felt. For the first time in his life, he had found something real. Ariadra had traveled hundreds of leagues to be with him, had spurned the wishes of her father and her people because she believed in him. And Baron in turn felt a ferocity welling up inside him – to be bold, to do the difficult, and to prove to her and the rest that their trust in him hadn't been placed in vain. Baron had never before felt such singleness of purpose. Ariadra pressed her head into Baron's chest and he felt a surging mixture of pride and heavy responsibility.

  Blair wandered into their field of vision as they sat, meandering a bit and came to the cauldron of warm stew. He didn't see them, but found himself a bowl and filled it with steaming liquid and sat by himself by one of the fires. The two watched him as he sat alone.

  “Your brother seems different,” said Ariadra.

  Baron didn't reply and she glanced up, surprised to see concern on Baron's face.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It's nothing.”

  She straightened her posture and looked him in the eyes.

  “He's just got to work a few things out. A lot's happened in a short amount of time.”

  Ariadra was unconvinced.

  “Don't worry,” Baron chuckled. “Everything's going to work out fine. The worst is behind us.”

  Then Baron called out to Blair.

  “Little brother, come and join us.”

  Blair glanced over and saw the pair beckoning him. He arose and seated himself across from them.

  “You remember Ariadra, of course,” Baron said.

  “Hello,” Blair responded with a smile.

  “I was just telling her about how the whole Ruhkan Mountain range almost dropped right on top of us.”

  Blair nodded with emphatic remembrance.

  “I thought we were cooked,” Baron continued.

  “What do you think of this place?” Ariadra asked with a smile.

  “The stone is sturdy,” Blair responded. “It will do nicely. We'll have to crush it down into finer sands to work with it, which will be slow going. But we'll manage.”

  That wasn't exactly what she was asking, but it would have to do.

  “Listen to you,” Baron said. “Always working.”

  “Someone's got to be. If you build with stone the way you blacksmith, I'll be the one rising early and staying up late. And with your new found company, someone's got to keep their mind on the project.”

  Baron let out a laugh. There was the old Blair, unwilling to lie down and take the harassment of Baron. The th
ree talked on until most in camp had disbanded for bed. And for those few hours, things were again as they were before, just as when they were all sitting around the fire in Ogrindal.

  The Jedra

  Durian heard the bowstring snap and closing his eyes, waited for the end. But he jumped back when the arrows struck the ground between where he and Captain Cross stood. Whipping his head round in rage, hooded men now occupied the whole perimeter of the arena, each with a drawn bow. For many moments, all was deathly silent. But one of the hooded men stepped forward, lowering his cowl. It was Thorne. They'd done it!

  “Your reign of terror here is over, Captain.”

  “You'll never get away with this, Thorne.”

  “I seem to recall telling you something similar when you first exiled us to the forest.”

  Captain Cross glared at him.

  “With one snap of my fingers, I can have a hundred soldiers dispatched here from K'venneh,” he said loudly to those gathered.

  Thorne smirked.

  “We're already sending them an envoy of peace. I don't believe Commander Rovak will be all too pleased to hear the full extent of how you've exploited this town.”

  The two men eyed one another for many moments, the crowd waiting with bated breath.

  “People of Stillguard,” Thorne called out. “You were once a thriving merchant city. But you've been terrorized and overrun by military men. You have the chance here and now to take your lives back into your own hands.”

  Captain Cross was red with rage as Thorne spoke to the people. Durian saw him bend down and take something from his thigh, concealing the item, but Durian caught glimpse of the tip of a blade. Durian opened his mouth, but Captain Cross had already made his move.

  “Thorne!”

  Captain Cross was already upon him, blade raised high. The crowd gasped and a lone arrow, loosed from the top of the arena, went unnoticed as it sailed through the air and made contact with the breastplate of Captain Cross. The arrow struck him just before he reached Thorne, stopping him in his tracks. Then, staggering forward a step, he fell to his knees and finally to the ground.