The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  The one who'd released the arrow was the young man who had defeated Captain Cross in the arena. Who in the world was this? He'd saved Durian's life in the streets, had allowed him to win the arena battle, and now had saved Thorne's life as well.

  The crowd erupted in clamor, and many of the soldiers under the command of Captain Cross began to surrender their arms. Durian came over to Thorne, who stood over the lifeless form of Captain Cross.

  “Thorne, who is that young man that just saved your life?” Durian asked.

  “Ask him yourself,” Thorne replied. “He wants to speak with you.”

  “Me,” Durian said. “Why?”

  But Thorne only smiled.

  “Thorne, where is Pallin?” Durian questioned.

  “He is safe. Come.”

  Durian followed Thorne out of the arena, making slow headway amid the highly animated townspeople. But near the center of town, the young man met them with a bow.

  “I owe you my life,” said Thorne. “Thank you.”

  “Just do as you have promised, and that will be enough,” the young man replied.

  Thorne gave him a low bow and the young man turned to Durian.

  “My father wishes to meet you.”

  “Who are you?” Durian asked.

  “All in good time. Follow me.”

  Thorne broke company and Durian followed the young man to the large hall that once served as the office chamber of Captain Cross. The doors were opened for them by two of the Brotherhood, revealing a number of other people present, one of which Durian recognized who came to greet them.

  “Jafra!” said the young man.

  “Cousin!” Jafra returned.

  “Cousin?” Durian asked. “You're related?”

  But an older man, ornately dressed, walked over to Durian.

  “Step outside with me,” he said.

  Durian followed him through the back of the building, wondering when in the world someone would explain to him what was going on. Outside the building stood a horse and the old man came up to it, turning to Durian.

  “Do you recognize this horse?” the man said to Durian.

  That was an odd question. Durian didn't know exactly how to respond. He opened his mouth for a quick disaffirmation, but something caught his attention. The horse was white with brown spots. One of the spots on the hind quarter of the horse was somewhat unique, and Durian recalled to mind a conversation he had had with Sheabor long ago.

  “That's Sheabor's horse!” Durian exclaimed. “Where did you get it?”

  The merchant smiled.

  “Cousin to King Froamb, are you?” he mocked.

  Durian flushed a bit red, recalling his attempt at a lie to the young man earlier. The man extended his hand for them to return to the main hall.

  “I exchanged that horse for my own personal horse to a man who helped defend my family against marauders in the Maelstrom. His name was Sheabor, as you well know. He and his companions bore weapons and armor like the one which you and your grandfather were deprived of by Captain Cross.”

  “Then they're alive!” Durian exclaimed. “They survived the war against Malfur?”

  “He was in good health when last I saw him. I am Jaithur. And my son, Sorren, you already know.”

  The young man gave Durian a low bow.

  “Thank you for rescuing me,” Durian said. “Why didn't any of you tell me what was really going on?”

  “We were afraid you wouldn't be able to hide it from the captain,” Sorren replied. “Your performance was perfect.”

  Durian smirked and shook his head. It made sense but he still didn't like it.

  “Tell me,” Jaithur said. “Why are you and your grandfather here in the lands of Kester?”

  “He's not my grandfather,” Durian explained. “Bring him here and he'll explain everything.”

  Jaithur nodded and one of the men in the room bowed and swiftly departed.

  “What are the Jedra?” Durian asked while they waited.

  “The merchant class in the lands of Kester, though we have no true lands to call home. We pay tribute to the lords of the lands of Kester, and in turn are allowed to move about freely from region to region.”

  “But you said you met Sheabor in the lands of the Horctura.”

  “We travel between the kingdoms, conducting business with whomsoever will welcome us.”

  Soon, the doors opened revealing the familiar face of Pallin. Durian rushed to greet him.

  “I didn't think I would see you again,” Durian said.

  Pallin smiled and chuckled at Durian's emotional display and at the thick plate armor Durian still wore.

  “There was no need for worry, my boy,” Pallin said. “There was never any real peril.”

  Durian had heard those words before. The two of them were in desperate need of a heart to heart conversation over what exactly constituted real peril. The others were smiling warmly while they awaited what Durian and Pallin had to tell them.

  “Pallin, these men have seen Sheabor,” Durian declared. “They said Sheabor helped to rescue them from a band of marauders. They want to know why we're here in the lands of Kester.”

  Pallin nodded slowly and glanced at the various men in the room.

  “Send the rest away,” Pallin commanded.

  Jaithur snapped his fingers, and everyone but he, Jafra and Sorren exited the great hall, the large doors closing with a thud.

  “What I am about to tell you may sound impossible, but I assure you that it is the truth.”

  And with that, Pallin told the story from the beginning, of his true identity as one of the four Windbearers, having felt the power of Malfur from the icy lands beyond Suriya in the south of Forthura. He told of Malfur's campaign against Ogrindal with the help of the Horctura.

  “We are on a quest,” Pallin concluded, producing a glowing blue stone from the folds of his garments, “to find the final resting place of King Euthor, whereby we hope to recover the powers of the three remaining Windbearers.”

  Jaithur grew very thoughtful as he considered what he had just heard.

  “I would hesitate to believe such a story,” Jaithur said, “but dark things brewing in the lands of the Horctura and Forthura have confirmed your words in my mind. We fled for our lives from it, risked marauder and Maelstrom in hopes that the darkness hadn't yet spread to the lands of Kester.”

  “What darkness?” Pallin asked.

  “We thought it was the Whiclah, a destroyer from the legends of the Horctura. With their defeat by the kingdom of Forthura, something arrived there that began to slaughter whole towns. We were on our way to one such town, when we arrived to find it newly massacred. Something has been unleashed upon those lands. Your friend Sheabor and his companions were tracking it, hoping to destroy it.”

  Pallin's countenance was greatly troubled as he considered Jaithur's words. Until now, he had still been hoping that Sheabor and the rest would try and rendezvous with him and Durian in the lands of Kester. But now it seemed, they were on their own.

  “You must go with them,” Jaithur said to Sorren.

  Sorren straightened his posture in surprise but nodded.

  “I will stay here with our family. Perhaps in time, we will undo the damage done at the hands of Captain Cross.”

  Jaithur took the ring from his finger and handed it to his son. Sorren seemed struck by the gesture, as though it carried great weight among their people.

  “This will ensure safe passage for you through the lands of Kester. In the hands of my son, you will have no fear. Anywhere the Jedra dwell, you will be welcomed as guests. Make your way toward the sea, to the harbor town of Edessa. Our kin dwell there. They'll provide you a boat and provisions for the journey.”

  Pallin took his hand and thanked him. Durian felt a sudden wave of exhaustion sweep over him, the arena battle and constant fear of dying having taxed him greatly. Pulling ineffectually at the pieces of his armor, the rest chuckled as they watched.

  �
�Here, let me help you,” Sorren said and began untying his armor. “You fought well today.”

  Durian huffed incredulously. Soon the breastplate was loose and Durian pulled it free from his body with a sigh of relief, allowing him to undo the rest himself.

  “How in the world do people fight in this?” Durian questioned.

  The others laughed.

  “You've earned yourself the right to something special,” Sorren said. “Tonight, why don't you reside in the personal quarters of Captain Cross. And here,” he said, and took from behind the desk the weapon for which all had vigorously contended, handing it to them.

  “Thank you,” said Pallin with great relief.

  Durian took his leave from them. Jafra followed him and led him out of doors and to the abode of Captain Cross, which abutted the barracks.

  “How did our brutish friend fight?” Jafra asked.

  “Like a madman,” Durian smiled. “I nearly got him killed once or twice, which I don't think he appreciated.”

  Jafra chuckled.

  “What's it like to be back with your family?” Durian asked.

  “I haven't seen them yet,” Jafra responded. “I'll find them once I take my leave from you.”

  Durian was astonished. Jafra had been banished from the town of Stillguard, away from his friends and family.

  “I wish you well on your journey,” Jafra said with a bow.

  “And you, on rebuilding the town of Stillguard,” Durian said with a bow.

  Then Jafra departed. Durian opened the doors to the captain's abode. Though small, it was well furnished and Durian got a fire going and began warming a cauldron of water for a much deserved bath. He found some dried meats and nuts and even some eggs. Before long, he was reclining in a warm bath with a full belly of food.

  And with a contented sigh, he considered his life in recent days, the extraordinary adventure he had somehow found himself a part of. How strange it seemed now that only a short time ago, his only concern was saving his failing business. How far he had come since then. How far did they still have to go?

  Construction

  The day for construction had arrived and Baron had scarcely slept. He and Ariadra had stayed out under the stars until the icy air drove them into shelter. Baron retired to his tent but lay awake most of the night, his thoughts racing, until the mellow glow of dawn began to shine through the fabric of his tent. Sitting up, Blair was next to him, sleeping soundly and Baron nudged him awake. Blair arose but clenched his jaw as though angry about something. Surely he wasn't angry Baron woke him.

  “What is it?” Baron asked.

  “It's not what it is, it's what it isn't,” Blair responded. “I haven't seen anything more from King Euthor. He hasn't given me the rest of the dream.”

  “Then maybe that's all it was, Blair, just a dream.”

  But Blair shook his head.

  “Anyway, it's time we get going. The others wanted to start at first light.”

  The two arose and readied themselves for the day. When they emerged from their tent, Sheabor was already standing close by a the entrance to the council tent just beside them.

  “You are a sneaky fellow, aren't you,” Baron said.

  Sheabor laughed and extended his arm toward the center of town, the rest of the tent city awakening to life as well, and workers emerging ready to meet the day.

  “Where do the two of you want to be stationed?” Sheabor asked. “At the mountain or at the city site?”

  Baron looked to Blair.

  “How far away is the city site from the mountain?” Blair asked.

  “Not far. Maybe five hundred paces, where the ground levels out a bit.”

  “We'll begin at the mountain.”

  After some time passed, many arrived at the center of town and all eyes turned to Sheabor, who led them north to the mountain face. Though similar in color and sheer height to the Ruhkan Mountains, it stood solitary upon the plains. Baron's heart beat quickly as they walked. He was about to find out just how much he could do.

  The trek to the mountain was only a few minutes and soon the whole group came to rest, waiting for further instructions. All eyes were now on Baron and Blair. Baron glanced to Blair, who was busy running his palms along the face of the mountain and Baron quickly grew self-conscious just standing there in silence. Opening his mouth to speak, Blair unexpectedly addressed them first.

  “The strongest stones are formed from the finest grains of sand. We can mold already finished stones, but the imperfections within them will remain. Better to start from scratch. The finer the sand and powder you provide me with, the stronger the foundation and walls will be. Crush the stone as much as you are able, and Baron and I will reform it stronger and sturdier than before.”

  Then Blair paused a moment.

  “Please stand back.”

  The group shuffled back a few paces. Blair stood in a spot where the face of the mountain bulged a bit and jutted out from the rest. Blair squared off with it and, taking a deep breath, hit the stone with the palms of his hands, sending a jolt through the mountain face, the sound of a large crack erupting from it and pieces falling off. Blair hit the newly formed crack and an entire section of the mountain broke free, the size of one of their ox carts. Baron shook his head in disbelief, as did the rest of the community. He had to learn that trick.

  “Sheabor, may we utilize your hammer?” Blair asked.

  Sheabor unsheathed it and took a step forward. But then a smile appeared on his face and he turned, handing the hammer to Drogan. Drogan smirked and took the hammer from him, which looked as though a toy in his hands. Coming over to the fallen rock, which had further crumbled upon impact, Drogan struck the rock fiercely with the Hammer of Haladrin, sending pieces flying in all directions, the crowd shielding their faces until he finished and returned and handed the hammer back to Sheabor.

  “Why don't you keep that for awhile,” Sheabor said with another smile.

  “Begin to mold the stone,” Blair said to Baron.

  Baron came to the pulverized pile of rubble and placed his hands within it, as did Blair, the sands beginning to melt and swirl. Baron could feel Blair's power as the two worked together and it was nearly overwhelming, like before.

  “Keep forming a block,” Blair said to Baron and then removed his own hands.

  With difficulty, Baron formed the rock like clay into the shape of a block.

  “Now watch your hands, but keep the stone pliable,” Blair said.

  Baron did as he was told, but didn't understand exactly why. Blair held his palms over the stone and then suddenly struck it. But the stone didn't splinter or shatter as the mountain face had done. Instead, it began to grow slightly smaller, and deepened a bit in color. All watched with affixed amazement.

  “Keep the stone pliable as long as possible, Baron.”

  But as Blair hit it a second time, the stone hardened to a level that Baron could barely continue to manipulate. Baron's ability to keep the stone pliable was overcome by the hardness of the stone and finally, it locked into place – a milky gray with faint swirls and dots of blue. Baron was amazed. How did Blair know how to do that?

  “It's just like blacksmithing,” Blair said. “When we strike hot iron, we fold it inward upon itself, making it stronger and stronger.”

  Baron was surprised by Blair's explanation but it made complete sense. When a stone was pliable, it wasn't all that different from red hot iron. Had the Builders of the First Age crafted stone in the same manner? Or had Blair used his knowledge from his previous trade to do something unique and new? Either way, Baron was quite impressed.

  “Bring the stone from the mountain to the city site,” Blair commanded. “From there, we will crush it and form it anew.”

  Then the people set out to work. Before departing, Blair and Drogan both broke more pieces free from the mountain face, making it easier for the laborers to collect and haul it off. Then the twins and Sheabor left to find the right spot to begin laying th
e foundation.

  “How long do you think the foundation and walls will take?” Sheabor asked.

  “Depends on how large you want them,” Blair replied.

  Sheabor almost sheepishly shrugged his shoulders a bit. He wasn't an architect and clearly seemed a bit nervous at the thought of designing a city himself.

  “I'm sure it'll all come together,” Baron said with a smile.

  The first load of stone arrived in minutes, pulled by Drogan who set to work pulverizing it. Blair and Baron began their formation on a level foundation, the going slow, as two Builders were hardly able to keep up with the pace of hundreds of laborers. Whenever they worked together, Baron's own power was enhanced greatly. But it didn't stick, and faded soon after Blair went to work on a new stone.

  The work was exhausting for all and at the end of the first day, Baron nearly fell asleep at the nightly meeting, finishing his supper and reclining by the fire with Ariadra. The old Baron would've gone lazily about his work, leaving early to go and find Ariadra. But the new Baron knew how many people were counting on him, and Ariadra seemed to respect him all the more for his diligence.

  Ariadra worked as a cook and seamstress, preparing the daily meals and helping outfit the workers with better clothing for the onset of winter. Her ability as a Woodlander, though minimal, allowed her to mend clothing stronger than it was before. Everyone had a role, and though the tasks were often menial, they labored with great pride at what the whole was accomplishing. It was amazing to be a part of.

  Baron watched with great amazement as the divisions in the groups slowly melted away. Though at the onset of the project, the various peoples had often eaten and communed within their own company, the camaraderie gained from blisters and sweat soon dissolved the schisms in the group. After only a few days, there was no longer Forthura, Ogrindal, Kester and Melanor. There was only the alliance city.

  But Sheabor was heavily occupied with reports of marauders attacking their caravans. The alliance city garnered most of its supplies from Eulsiphion, which was many hundreds of leagues away, and the region between mountainous, making it easy for marauders to hide. The attacks had begun even before Sheabor arrived with Baron and Blair, and unconfirmed reports were coming in that the elite force of Corcoran was again on the move. Sheabor spent most of his time in the council tent, leaving Baron and Blair largely free to manage their own affairs.