The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  The only thing Baron really worried about was his brother, who had grown even more solitary in recent days. Because of his power, he was already somewhat feared, and generally avoided, and he made little effort to change the fact. Baron found him once staring at an ornately decorated scroll made of stone that he had fashioned into the top half of a boulder. Baron came up beside him, gazing with him long at the empty scroll until, in frustration, Blair struck the rock with his hand, cleaving it clean in half and then walked away without a word. Baron flushed red as he turned to find a crowd lost for explanation at the odd gesture. Blair seemed consumed with recalling what he had seen in his dream, yet unable to find a way to do so.

  One day, mid-morning, Blair took leave from the laborers and went to find Sheabor, flipping open the flap to the council tent.

  “Is anything the matter?” Sheabor asked, surprised to see him there.

  “I need to see the writings of King Euthor,” Blair said. “Can you send word to Eulsiphion to have them deliver anything they can with the next caravan?”

  “What's this about, Blair?”

  “I don't know yet,” Blair continued. “But it's very important. I'm out of options.”

  Sheabor glanced to Bowen who wore a look of fascinated disbelief, which betrayed his belief that Blair was possibly going a bit mad, suspicious that the powers he gained at the Illian city had come with a price.

  “The monastery at the edge of the Ruhkan Mountains might have what you're after,” Bowen offered. “They're said to house the largest collection of works from the First Age of anywhere in the lands of Kester.”

  “Blair, we don't really have men to spare for missions of curiosity,” Sheabor declared. “Can't you tell me more of what this is about?”

  “If you don't send someone for the records, I'll go for them myself,” Blair said.

  The room was bathed in awkward silence.

  “Of course,” Sheabor concluded. “We'll send someone right away. Bowen, do any of your men know the way to the monastery?”

  “No, but they'll manage.”

  “Get Blair whatever he needs.”

  Bowen nodded.

  “Thank you,” said Blair and departed.

  Hiding

  Straiah moved swiftly through the forest, heaving deep breaths of air, Estrien's unconscious form on his shoulder. He was on the brink of exhaustion but couldn't stop. They were still being pursued and he hadn't yet found a place to hide. Estrien was slipping away and his heart raced with panic. He was out of options.

  But faintly and far off, he occasionally heard the sound of a brief struggle. Gwaren was still out there somewhere, trying to lead them off Straiah's trail. But Estrien's breaths were becoming very shallow and her hands were cold as ice. Straiah didn't have a choice. He had to stop and attend to her wound.

  The woods were thicker to his right and he made for them, finding the best spot he could and placing her there. He cleaned her side as best he could and took some sprigs of herbs he had found along the way, chewing them into a paste and rubbing them in. The herbs were different than those in the forests where the House of Cavanah dwelt, but they had the same aroma and flavor, and hopefully the same healing properties.

  Straiah made a bed of leaves and pine boughs and did his best to make her warm and comfortable, and then he waited for long minutes in silence to see if any of their pursuers were near. But Estrien needed water desperately, so clenching his jaw, he set off in search of a spring, trying his best to mask the tracks to where he'd hidden Estrien.

  It took longer than he hoped to find water, and the spring was only lightly flowing and covered with mosses. Though it would probably be safe for drinking, he dare not risk cleaning her wound until he found something fresher. But she was so weak, she might not be able to handle even slightly murky water. If it upset her stomach, it'd be worse than drinking nothing at all. Straiah stooped down and took drinks of water in his hands, paying close attention over the next few minutes to how he felt as he filled his water skins and set off back toward Estrien.

  He had to find a fresher source of water. But then a thought struck him. It was quite possible that Corcoran's men had already located any fresh water nearby. If so, they'd undoubtedly set a trap for him there. They knew Estrien was wounded and couldn't go far, that she'd need water to help replenish the blood she'd lost. Finding the small spring might have been the greatest stroke of luck he could've asked for.

  Creeping back to their hideout, Straiah knelt down and lifted Estrien's head, pouring water into her mouth. She coughed and winced in pain, her hand moving to her side. She seemed to rouse but never fully gained consciousness. Straiah stood up, his eyes darting about to see if any had heard her faint cough. But he didn't sense any danger near.

  Undoubtedly, the forces of Corcoran had shrank back and fortified their positions. Straiah could hunt for food, but starting a fire to cook it would give them away instantly. The elites didn't need to pursue them. They could sit back and wait for Estrien to fade and there was nothing Straiah could do about it. Clenching his jaw, his fists shook in anger. He needed a plan.

  Glancing to Estrien, she looked so peaceful and beautiful. He stroked the locks of her golden hair and felt a shiver run down his spine, the effect of whatever the leaders of Melanor had done to her. He wasn't going to let her die like this. He had only one option.

  Bundling her up as best he could, Straiah set off into the woods, traveling west for hours without stopping. As dawn approached, he slowed his pace and managed to hunt a grouse for food. But the breeze was flowing from the west to east, so he dare not cook it yet. Traveling the rest of the morning, he finally came upon a small, flowing stream.

  These waters were far more pure and Straiah filled his water skins. Near midday, the breeze died down and Straiah risked a fire, cooking the grouse quickly. He was leagues away from where Estrien was hidden, and had to be past the reach of Corcoran's elites. Traveling day and night was the only way he could bring fresh food and water to Estrien.

  But exhaustion had taken a firm hold. He'd carried Estrien for hours on his shoulder and hadn't slept at all. His senses were dull and he knew if the forces of Corcoran were anywhere nearby, he'd have no chance if they spotted him. It was nearly dusk by the time he returned. Estrien was still sleeping. He pulled the boughs off and removed the bandages on her wound, pouring fresh water onto a bandage. The herbs had kept her wound mostly clean, but he'd taken nearly a full day to properly attend to it.

  Estrien stirred and blinked open her eyes. Offering her the water skin, she drank ravenously and ate a bite or two of meat. But she fell quickly back to sleep. Straiah took heart but between cleaning her wound and the water she'd drank, his water skins were both nearly gone. He had no choice but to set off once more, knowing if he stopped here to rest, he could fall asleep and not awaken for hours. Estrien needed as much water as she could stand to drink.

  And so, stroking the locks of her hair, he arose and departed. But before long, he came upon human tracks cutting perpendicular across his path and he froze, dropping down below the brush, examining them closely. They were fresh, having only passed this way an hour earlier. Straiah's heart beat quickly. He knew, in his fatigue, he wasn't doing a very good job covering his own tracks, and if he so easily spotted theirs, how long would it be before they found his.

  He stood for long moments in indecision, wanting to go back and check on Estrien. Had they found her? Were they dragging her away, even now? He couldn't give in to fear. So he set off for the spring once more, darting carefully through the forest to hide his movements as best he could.

  Morning turned to afternoon over the forest and a mellow, sticky heat filled the air. Arriving to the spring, he filled his water skins, drinking much from the icy flowing stream and splashing it over his face. But he returned to camp by evening, approaching cautiously, half expecting Estrien to be gone.

  But she was still sleeping peacefully under the bed of pine boughs. But her cheeks were rosy
and Straiah touched the back of his fingertips to them, finding them hot to the touch. A fever had taken hold, which sent a streak of fear through him. Checking her bandages, the wound still looked reasonably clean, though he changed them again and gave her some water. This time, she didn't rouse and he had to pour the water into her mouth as she lay unconscious.

  Straiah arose to set off again for the spring, but as he did, his whole world spun and he reached out for a nearby tree to steady himself. He'd been two days without sleep now and couldn't continue without rest. Taking notice of where the moon hung in the sky, he laid down beside Estrien, closing his eyes and then fell immediately to sleep.

  But he awoke not long after, finding the moon barely changed in its position. He arose, his head protesting and his temples pounding. But he'd gotten at least an hour of sleep and felt rejuvenated enough. So, setting off again, he made for the spring. Were the forces of Corcoran still looking for them? Surely they wouldn't keep an entire war party scouring the forest just to find two persons. They'd probably only left one or two behind, which is undoubtedly the reason Straiah and Estrien hadn't been discovered yet.

  Straiah spent days doing little but traveling to the spring and hunting small game for food, sleeping when he could. Estrien's fever grew and burned for days. Her body couldn't take much more. But Straiah found some herbs in the forest that might help to break it and by the fourth day, the fever finally broke.

  One morning, when he arrived back at their camp and offered her some food and water, she was lucid and energized. She sat up against a tree with difficulty, holding her side. Her skin was pale, and the red of her lips had turned to white, but the worst of it had passed. She was going to make it. Straiah was overjoyed and sat down beside her.

  “How long have we been here?” she asked.

  “A least a week,” he replied.

  “Did you rescue Baron and Blair?”

  “Yes,” said Straiah. “They encased themselves inside a boulder. The forces of Corcoran couldn't break through.”

  “Where are they?” she asked.

  “They've gone with Sheabor to build the alliance city.”

  “We need to get to them,” she said while struggling to sit up even further.

  “We'll join them soon enough,” Straiah said, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “Straiah, something isn't right,” Estrien said. “When I was held captive, Corcoran's elite force met with a band of warriors I didn't recognize. They didn't look like Dungeon Core or barbarians but more like mercenaries for hire. I don't know what they talked about but Corcoran's warriors gave them gold pieces and at least five suits of their black armor.”

  “If they gave them gold, then they must be mercenaries, most likely from the lands of Kester,” Straiah concluded. “The armor might be part of the payment as well. It would fetch a high price.”

  “But payment for what?”

  “Information, maybe.”

  “No, it has to be something more,” she replied, struggling to sit up even straighter.

  Straiah helped her but urged her to go slowly. He had only just barely gotten her back from the brink of death.

  “Whatever they're planning,” she said. “We need to warn Sheabor something's coming. What if they've set a trap for him?”

  “Sheabor can handle himself,” he replied. “He'll have hundreds of warriors at his command.”

  “I don't like it,” she replied. “Corcoran has been a move ahead of us every step of the way.”

  Then she looked at him with a solemn and serious gaze.

  “You need to leave me and go warn them.”

  “No, I won't leave you. We're getting out of here together.”

  “Straiah, please!”

  Straiah's heart was racing. She'd never make it out of this forest alone. She couldn't even stand. He stood to his feet, mouth gaping, lost for reply.

  “If it was Gwaren or one of the others, you'd do it. You know what I'm saying is right.”

  “I know,” he replied softly.

  But it was too late for Straiah. He had almost lost her. He wouldn't lose her again. What King Froamb had said before was true. The fate of the whole kingdom meant little to him if he lost her. She could see it in his eyes.

  “The leaders of Melanor were right to do what they did to me. I didn't see it before. The mission is too important. I've finally come to grips with that. Whatever feelings I had for you, they're gone now.”

  “You don't mean that.”

  “Yes I do,” she replied. “You're risking the fate of our whole world clinging to a dead dream. Your best friend is in mortal danger. You need to go and warn him or you'll never forgive yourself.”

  Straiah's world spun and he felt struck by a mortal blow. All the exhaustion he'd battled until now came rushing in like an overwhelming flood. Estrien turned and laid her head down to sleep. Straiah left, walking several paces away, his mind in torment. Returning, he found her asleep and laid down beside her. He didn't have the strength to decide. It was too much to bear. Closing his eyes, he fell into a deep and exhausted sleep.

  Straiah awoke to the chirping of birds and glittering sunlight filtering through the treetops. Jumping up, he could sense somehow that he'd slept for a very long time. But he caught sight of something that made his heart sink. The bed of leaves and boughs beside him was empty. Estrien was gone!

  Bursting from their hideout, he scanned the forest for signs of her. She was nowhere to be seen. The forest felt different now in a way he couldn't quite describe. It just felt empty, as though both Estrien and the forces of Corcoran had fled. Had they recaptured her? Straiah buried his head in his hands in despair. How could he have let this happen. She would never make it through the forest.

  Coming back to their camp, he scanned the ground for clues. Her weapons were gone and he found the tracks from her departure headed northwest toward the alliance city. The tracks were at least a day old. Without a word, Straiah set out after her, knowing with her injury she couldn't be too far ahead.

  But something quickly stopped him in his tracks. The ominous question that Estrien had asked was now running through Straiah's mind. What if they're setting a trap for Sheabor? she had asked. He didn't know what they were up to, but something in his heart told him that Sheabor was in grave danger.

  Straiah's hands shook in frustration and fear. But he knew what he had to do. Straiah set off in the direction where he had last encountered the black-armored warriors. He arrived there quickly. The area had long since been abandoned, but they hadn't done a good job of covering their tracks either. The tracks were everywhere, leading in all directions. But some were more deeply set into the ground, which were made from the extra weight of carrying supplies after they had broken camp to move on. These were the tracks that would lead him.

  He followed them toward the northeast for over an hour until the air grew colder as the towering Ruhkan Mountains stretched overhead. The tracks then led to the north, along the base of the mountain. They were leading somewhat toward the direction of the alliance city, but not closer than twenty leagues. What in the world were they up to?

  There was nothing in this direction, as far as Straiah knew. Beyond the edge of the forest were the borderlands of Kester and the Horctura, and the lands of Aeleos further to the north. There weren't any major cities or settlements that Straiah remembered. Just mountains and plains and open wilderness. It was rough country as far as Straiah knew, difficult to journey through. He set off on a jog, at least a day behind them. Whatever they were planning, he would get there and warn Sheabor of it before it was too late.

  Meetings

  Tensions had been high for days. The elite force of Corcoran had been spotted again in the lands of the Horctura, though they had yet to attack another settlement. It was possible they were bound for new lands but none could be sure. Sheabor suspected it was just a fear tactic, the elite force letting themselves be spotted to stir up dread in those who were far from home. If so, it was
working. They had all left their cities to come and contribute to this new project, weakening the defenses of their homes. And with warriors of Corcoran roaming freely, it was cause for concern.

  Not only that but marauders continued harassing the caravans from Eulsiphion despite how many soldiers Sheabor sent to escort them safely in. The marauders' numbers seemed growing with a new and fresh supply line to feed from. Things were beginning to unravel. How had it happened so fast?

  But even in that short time, Baron and Blair had already laid a thick foundation for the city, a single solid stone of bluish white, polished smooth. It was beautiful. Baron was almost sad they soon would cover it with buildings. The foundation was arranged as a large half circle that butted up against the base of the mountain. There was to be a single massive forward wall that curved to the mountain on each end from point to point.

  Baron's skill was growing day by day working with Blair, who had taught him the method of pulsating his power to either fracture solid stone or thicken pliable stone. Every pulse of power was like the blow of a hammer against a glowing rod of iron. It was amazingly similar to blacksmithing in that way. They worked as a very effective team now but still couldn't nearly manage to keep up with the piles of sands and rubble carried to them by Drogan and the other laborers.

  With only a foundation and no walls or buildings, there was little anyone else could do but bring stone for Baron and Blair to work with, who both labored tirelessly but had no hope of keeping up with hundreds of workers. At midday one day, Ariadra came over to see Baron. She often came to visit him, to bring him food or water and spend some time with him. But this time, she wore a troubled look and gazed at the ground as she approached.