Sheabor shook his head and took a step forward to see what Baron was working on.
“I've been studying these all morning,” Baron said. “They're like nothing I've ever seen. They look and feel metallic, but they have a component of stone in them. It's incredible.”
“Are you saying they've learned how to combine metal and stone?” Sheabor asked.
“It seems so. Though I have no idea how they've managed it. The stone and metal are fully integrated, so much so that I can't separate the stone from it. I've been trying all morning. The metal is binding the suit together.”
Sheabor began to carefully examine the suits of armor before him, his countenance perplexed and troubled as he saw for himself the damage patterns, which were unlike anything on normal breastplates.
“I don't know how they built them,” Baron said. “But I think I've at least figured out how they work. The suits are very thin and light, clearly made for warriors to travel long distances at speed. That's why the elites were able to keep ahead of the giants for so long. By my estimation, the material is only about half the thickness of a normal metal breastplate. It takes quite a bit of metal to block an arrow loosed at full speed, as you well know. These suits work differently. Instead of blocking the force, they seem to absorb it. When an arrow hits this armor, the stone component in the suit fractures, and the force radiates outward from the impact site, making this spiderweb pattern. But it doesn't shatter completely. The metal holds the suit together even after it fractures. It's truly a work of genius. I had no idea this sort of thing could be done.”
Baron proceeded to another table where various breastplates lay idle, some fashioned of metal and others he'd just fashioned out of stone.
“Take the bow,” Baron said. “I'll show you.”
Assenting and notching an arrow, Sheabor waited while Baron hung a metal breastplate on one of the wooden poles that supported the tent.
“I've made these breastplates of metal and stone the same thickness as the elite's armor. Shoot this one.”
Sheabor loosed the arrow from the bow and it tore clean through the metal breastplate and sunk into the pole behind it. Baron removed the breastplate and pulled the arrow free, then hung up one that he had fashioned out of stone.
“Now hit this one.”
Sheabor notched another arrow, drew back and then released. The arrow struck the stone breastplate and bounced from it, making a large crack that nearly split the breastplate in half. Baron took the breastplate and pulled it apart with his hands.
“See,” Baron said. “Stone is better able to block the force of an impact, but it can't hold together. Somehow, they've managed to harness the strengths of both metal and stone to create something better than either. Their armor will break eventually I'm sure, but it can take a lot of battering first.”
“That's incredible,” Sheabor replied. “Can you replicate it?”
Baron took a deep breath and shook his head slowly.
“I'm a Builder and a blacksmith. If anyone should be able to figure out the process, it'd be me. But I'm at a loss. The only way I could see something like this being done is if both the stone and the metal were in liquid form. I can use my Builder ability to liquefy stone but I have to be touching it. The only way to melt metal is through intense heat. You could never add molten metal to the stone. I'd be burned horribly in an instant.”
“Well, keep at it,” Sheabor responded. “I'm sure it'll come to you.”
“Once Blair gets back, between the two of us, we'll crack it. No pun intended.”
Sheabor opened his mouth to reply but only nodded slowly.
“Blair is coming back,” Baron asserted.
“I hope so, Baron. But we don't even know he's still alive. Corcoran's forces went to great lengths to try and capture the two of you. Blair traveling alone would be an easy target. You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that he's gone.”
Baron's brow furrowed and he gazed to the floor.
“Are you sure he didn't mention anything about where he was headed?” Sheabor asked.
Baron shook his head.
“I'm not even sure he knew himself when he set out,” Baron confessed. “He just said he was headed to the sea. Something in the documents from the monastery of Kester must've given him a clue. Do we still have them?”
“Yes.”
“I'll take a look through them,” Baron said. “Hopefully I'll find the same thing Blair did.”
Sheabor nodded slowly and his countenance hinted that he was choosing his next words carefully. Baron smiled, knowing what he was thinking, for with Blair gone, Baron was the only one left who could build the alliance city. He didn't have time to spend reading ancient documents or studying suits of armor.
“Don't worry,” Baron chuckled. “I haven't forgotten about the city. I want to try a few more things on these suits of armor before I stop. And I'll wait to look through the documents until I've got things started again on the wall.”
Sheabor bowed and turned to depart, but stopped short of the tent flap.
“I heard about your exciting news,” he said.
Baron glanced over with a wide smile and nodded eagerly.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You deserve it. Ariadra is a wonderful girl.”
“Thank you!”
Then Sheabor was gone, leaving Baron to his own devices. But regardless of what he tried, nothing brought Baron closer to understanding the armor lying on the table before him and he was left at length simply staring down at one of the suits, hunched over with his palms against the wooden table.
This was the state Ariadra found him in when she entered, opening the tent flap and walking inside. Baron detected her familiar amble and straightened his posture, she closing in behind him and hooking her hands round his waist, stepping up on the tips of her toes and resting her chin on his shoulder to peer down at whatever had so captivated his attention.
But she tensed at the sight of the suit of dark armor and Baron squeezed her hands in his, turning round with a smile and putting his project finally to rest. Ariadra returned his smile, and once again he was struck by how beautiful she was – her flowing locks of brown hair and hazel eyes, and the graceful way she moved in her silken gown. It always surprised him, as though he'd somehow forgotten since seeing her the night before.
“Is this where you've been hiding all morning?” she demanded.
“Hiding?” Baron chuckled. “Yes, you've found me out. I was hiding. But since our engagement, you've grown considerably more nagging.”
Ariadra was horrified that such words would ever escape his lips, even in jest, and Baron took the words back with hands raised in surrender. Her eyes narrowed as she shook her head in amused frustration.
“What are you working on?” she asked.
“Nothing important,” he said with a wide grin. “It can wait. I'd rather talk to you.”
Ariadra smiled at his ever attempts to charm her but her countenance turned serious.
“I wanted to talk with you about something,” Ariadra began. “I've been thinking a lot about it and I really want to have our wedding in Ogrindal. The forest is so beautiful in the spring and all my family is there. My mother will want to help me plan everything.”
She opened her mouth to say more, almost as though she expected an objection, but Baron only smiled at her.
“That sounds perfect.”
“Are you sure?” Ariadra asked. “Besides your brother, you won't have any other family there. We could always have the wedding in Eulsiphion and invite both sides.”
That was an interesting notion. From what Baron had heard, King Froamb threw quite a celebration. But in truth, Baron didn't care where the wedding was...who would come or how far he had to go.
“No, let's have the wedding in Ogrindal,” Baron said. “It should be in one of our homes.”
“Thank you,” she said, embracing him tightly. “Dhelgar and some of the others are leaving for Ogrindal in the
morning. After we got the best of him at the council meeting, he knows there's nothing more he can do here. I want to travel with their caravan. It may be the only chance I have to go home before the wedding.”
“Tomorrow!” Baron complained, pulling away. “But we've barely had a moment to ourselves.”
“I know,” she said. “It's terrible timing. But I think it'll be for the best. We're going to have the rest of our lives together and there's still so much work to do here. With your brother gone, it'll be good for you not to have any distractions. A lot of people are counting on you.”
Baron sighed and turned, taking a step away.
“I don't know if I like the idea of you traveling with Dhelgar.”
Ariadra smiled at his concern, stepping forward and hooking her hands round his waist.
“He won't harm me,” she said. “He's not really angry with me anyway. It was you who foiled his designs. I'm one of his own people.”
Baron nodded slowly but didn't turn round until a more pressing question struck him.
“How long do you plan on being gone?”
“A few weeks,” she replied. “Not more than two, I hope.”
“Weeks?”
Ariadra shook her head with a laugh that the mere thought of her absence caused him such pronounced despair.
“Come have some lunch with me,” she said, still chuckling.
Baron nodded but his countenance was sullen and deflated. Following her and emerging into the open air, Baron paused as he gazed around at the empty city site, which he'd still only barely begun to build. Without Ariadra by his side, the project seemed suddenly overwhelming.
“I can't wait for all this to be over,” Baron said with a sigh. “All the planning and fighting and urgent projects already weeks behind from the moment they begin. One day, we'll have a quiet life, I promise you.”
Ariadra turned to him with an intrigued smile.
“You'll never be happy with a quiet life,” she said. “That's one of the things I love most about you, as a matter of fact.”
Her declaration struck him and he suddenly realized how foolish it was to spend his last day with her sulking. She was right. Two weeks would pass by quickly and then they'd have the rest of their lives together.
“Alright then!” he announced, and scooped her up in his arms, twirling her around in a circle.
“Things will always be crazy forever!”
She threw her head back in laughter, then gazed back down into his eyes, which stared back at her now with a rekindled fire. Placing her hands on his cheeks, she kissed him. Everything was perfect – as it should be. This was the life they had both dreamed about...the life of adventure, love and passion.
Putting her feet back down on the ground, she set off, leading him with her fingertips toward the midday meal, glancing back with smiles as she went. She had such a power over him. He never knew it could be like this. How had he gotten so lucky?
They arrived in short order, each taking a bowl of stew, and sat on a nearby bench. Many of the soldiers and workers nodded to Baron as he went by, some even giving him a bow. Baron wasn't used to being treated with such respect. It felt so foreign and out of place – a carefree blacksmith from a forgotten fishing village now one of the leaders of the most important city in the world. Ariadra cradled her arms as they sat there eating the midday meal and it drew a smile from Baron.
“If you think this is cold, you wouldn't last a day in Suriya,” he said.
“Says the blacksmith who always had a pile of glowing coals to keep him warm.”
Baron threw his head back in laughter and assented her point.
“Is it really as cold as you say there?” she asked.
“It never bothered me,” Baron replied. “Blair was always the one who hated it.”
Ariadra nodded slowly, a pained expression growing on her face.
“I wish I knew where your brother was,” she said at length.
“He's okay,” Baron encouraged.
But Baron's flippant reply did little to change the concern on Ariadra's face, who clearly believed, along with Sheabor, that Blair might have been captured or worse. Baron took her hand and squeezed it.
“No, I mean it,” Baron continued. “Blair's always taken care of himself. He's never needed anyone. I don't know how I know, but I know he's fine.”
She nodded and her countenance lightened, glad for his confidence.
“I'm going to have a look through the documents from the monastery,” Baron said. “There's got to be a clue to where Blair went. Maybe we can send a scouting party to look for him.”
“Have you figured out yet what he was after?”
Baron shook his head.
“He was convinced King Euthor was helping him...communicating with him somehow. He must have gone somewhere to get more training. That's all I can figure.”
“Back to the Illian city?”
“It's possible. But the city was destroyed and Blair said he was going to the sea, whatever that means.”
“You'll figure it out,” she said. “I know you will.”
Mysteries
Sheabor stood alone in the center of the large council tent, gazing at a map of the continent spread out on a wooden table, drawn quickly for him by the hand of Bowen. It showed the major installations, settlements, trade routes and regions of Kester. Making contact with them should have been a relatively easy endeavor. But the only contact they'd had with Kester was the single soldier who'd arrived with a dispatch for Bowen, urgently recalling him home along with any troops stationed at the alliance city. Since that time, nearly two weeks ago, Kester had gone dark.
Riders wearing the standards of Kester would come to the nearest hillside overlooking the alliance city, linger for awhile, and then gallop away. It was possible the mercenaries were impersonating Kester, but that was unlikely. Sheabor tried not to let it trouble him. Bowen would explain everything to them. He was a captain of their northern skirmishers. They would surely trust him.
Drogan had been recalled almost the same time as Bowen and no further word was heard from the Bearoc. That was just their way. The giants knew now that Corcoran was returning. They'd have no choice but to join Sheabor's cause. Aravas would return from their lands soon enough with a report and things would finally come together.
The real problem was predicting Corcoran's next move. Far to the south on the map was a region of unexplored wilderness known as the Westward Wilds. It was an area nearly the size of the kingdom of Forthura and from the accounts of Bowen, it was a myriad of mountains, swamps and wild terrain. Few ever traveled there. Further to the southeast was the kingdom of Forthura, occupying the whole of the broad southeastern peninsula.
There was supposedly once a pathway that connected the kingdoms of Kester and Forthura through the Westward Wilds, but the road had been abandoned long ago. Now, the only passage from Kester to Forthura ran north through the barbarian kingdom. Sheabor knew if one ship had landed from the Banished Lands, more would come. Malfur had been sent to construct a hidden fortress, a staging point for the eventual war. He had been thwarted but Corcoran would seek another. The Westward Wilds were the perfect location.
Sheabor left the council tent and made for the medical area, pushing the tent flap open and entering quietly. Straiah was awake and seated on his bed, gazing down at the sleeping form of Estrien beside him. Though he was still heavily bandaged, he was recovering quickly. Straiah turned and greeted Sheabor with a nod, who motioned for them to speak outside. Straiah put on a coat and followed him out of the tent.
“How is she?” Sheabor asked.
He felt genuinely guilty as he posed the question, for he truly didn't know how she was...if she was recovering or still in peril. He'd hardly come to visit them these past weeks.
“She's going to live,” he replied. “That's what matters. She's still weak but the fevers are gone.”
Sheabor was glad to hear it.
“I'm sorry to be all business bu
t we've got a problem.”
“With Kester?” Straiah questioned.
“No, that's my problem.”
Straiah smiled with intrigue.
“This new problem is mine to deal with then, I gather.”
“Yours and Gwaren's, if you're up for it.”
“Should be. What do you need?”
“I'm very wary of splitting our forces, but these Westward Wilds are a problem. If one ship can make it from the Banished Lands, more are sure to follow. Corcoran can't be allowed to gain a foothold on this continent. If he does, we'll be powerless to stop him bringing siege weapons and armies across the divide. The only way we stand a chance is to repel his forces the moment they arrive.”
“You want Gwaren and me to begin patrolling the Westward Wilds.”
“Essentially yes. But the area is huge. We need people who can move at speed through rough terrain. It will be very grueling.”
Straiah smiled.
“It'll be nothing compared with what we've already survived.”
Sheabor smiled, placing his hand on Straiah's shoulder, genuinely grateful for such a companion and friend.
“I'm putting you in command of our coalition forces. I'll retain command of our home guard here at the city, but you will control our forces abroad. You'll need to set up a base camp somewhere in the Westward Wilds where you can keep an eye on most of the coastline. I don't know how you'll do it, but that's the mission.”
Straiah nodded slowly as he considered.
“Are you sure you want to send warriors away from the city?” Straiah asked. “Bowen's people have already withdrawn, and I heard talk that another caravan is heading back to Ogrindal for good. What happens if the barbarians or another group of marauders becomes hostile? And we don't know what forces from Corcoran are still at large. The city will be weak and vulnerable.”
“It's a risk,” Sheabor replied. “But I think it's a bigger risk to do nothing at all. Whatever you find in the Westward Wilds, it will be to our advantage. If you find nothing, then we know we have more time. If you find a stronghold already underway, it might be the push we need to bring Kester into this war. We just need to know.”
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 56
