The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  “Then King Euthor and Sheyla must have had children?”

  “They had a son who carried on their heritage, which has continued through the long years down to our friend Sheabor.”

  Durian's mind was racing. In light of everything he had just heard, Durian couldn't believe that his friend, Sheabor, a humble and unassuming man, was actually a descendant of King Euthor and Sheyla.

  “Pallin, how did King Euthor and his son stay behind on this continent while the rest of the House, Cavanah, was trapped with Corcoran and Malfur on the Banished Lands?”

  “There are limits to my knowledge. I'm not sure that his son was with him. He most likely was trapped with the rest of Cavanah, under the care of stewards until King Euthor eventually found a way back to the Banished Lands. Things were so chaotic in those days. Every living thing, man and beast alike, fled to safety from the quakes and the flooding. Even the four Windbearers were separated, with Malfur trapped on the Banished Lands and Aravas, Faigean and I remaining on this continent. The quakes lasted for weeks; the flooding for months and years. The landmasses swiftly began to divide and before long, passage between the two realms was largely impossible.”

  Durian was suddenly struck by the irony of their situation. In a way, he almost felt badly for Madrigan, a poet in love with a beautiful woman, eclipsed by another man, Prince Euthor, who himself was a master of the written word. How difficult it must have been for Madrigan to see another man composing beautiful poetry for the same woman he had tried to win with the eloquence of his words.

  Tragic too was the fact that all the beautiful things Madrigan had done before becoming Corcoran were to be completely forgotten, replaced by the malevolence of Corcoran the Conqueror. Durian felt truly saddened. Madrigan had been driven mad in jealousy and anger and had declared war on everything the old world stood for.

  If not for Pallin and the other Windbearers, all knowledge of that time would undoubtedly have been lost forever. There would still be the histories – names, places and important events. But the nuances that made the history magical – that would have been destroyed. Durian made up his mind then and there...if they survived this war, he vowed to hear the full story of the old world from Pallin, setting it down in record, so the rest of their world could know from what an intricate and amazing place they had come.

  Satisfied with his vow, Durian ceased his questioning, placing his arms on the rail of the boat and resting his chin on his forearm, gazing out upon the deep blue waters. He pondered his life and how he had come to be wrapped up in such events. In all his former days, never would he have dreamed he'd hear such tales. Nor could he have imagined he would be on such a quest to save the entire world.

  He chuckled to himself, recalling what strange thing had set him and his two friends down such a long road: a simple challenge from Baron, to follow a strange old wanderer to Thob Forest and solve the mystery of the perfume and fog. How far removed it seemed from him now, as though memories from another lifetime.

  At length, Durian glanced to Pallin with another question, but hesitated, for Pallin was strangely wearing a look of deep concern, intently focused on the horizon to the north.

  “Pallin, what is it?”

  “A storm.”

  K'venneh

  Bowen rode slowly toward a towering fortress, the end of a week long journey. Having first traveled to his post at Devek, along with the other men who had been with him at the alliance city, Bowen was swiftly sent south with sealed orders to the fortress K'venneh, which was breathtaking to behold. Bowen lingered awhile afar off, taking in the scene.

  K'venneh lay in the middle of the sweeping plains of the eastern kingdom of Kester. It was arrayed in true military fashion, without the finery of the castles in the western kingdom, buttressed and reinforced, and seemingly impenetrable. The layout was a simple square, a high parapet tower on each corner, and thick walls spanning between. Bowen had always heard tales of its splendor, but had never before now merited a visit.

  K'venneh was Kester's main fortress in the eastern kingdom, their defense against the lands of the Horctura, or the Bearoc, should the fatal day ever come when either might try to invade. K'venneh was near the eastern edge of the lands of Kester, only a short distance from the alliance city.

  They had requested him with all urgency after the attack that came against the alliance city. He was to return and report, and the units he commanded were ordered disbanded from the defense of the alliance city. Bowen knew this day would come. His superiors wouldn't be happy. He hadn't reported in for over a month, and had overstepped his bounds in commanding soldiers of Kester to build and defend the alliance city. But he had done what had to be done. Surely they would come to see that.

  But why summon him to K'venneh? They could have just debriefed him in the field. This was costing precious time. Bowen tapped the side of his horse and trotted slowly down the hill toward the fortress. He arrived near midday to the front gate, which was open but under guard. On arrival, the guards signaled him to stop.

  “State your business here.”

  “Bowen, Captain of the northern skirmishers of Devek, reporting as ordered.”

  He handed the guard the sealed orders, which were swiftly opened and read. The guard stepped aside and issued a command.

  “You two, escort him to the commander.”

  Two soldiers bowed and came to either side of Bowen's horse. They walked closely beside him, giving him an uncomfortable notion that he had just been placed under arrest. They came to the main crossroad and Bowen dismounted, leaving his horse with another soldier and climbing the slanted stone walkway toward the main keep. The two soldiers still followed closely behind him, and Bowen felt more like their prisoner than their escort. Higher ranking officers were always kept in the rear. It could be nothing, just a precaution. But it gave him a sinking feeling. He expected to be formally reprimanded, but this was like coming home to a full military tribunal.

  Bowen and the two soldiers entered the keep, which was like a castle within a castle. It had its own set of walls and towers, and a huge wooden gate. They were admitted and ambled down the long stone corridors to the commander's office. After some time walking, they came to a halt before a large wooden door. One of the soldiers stepped forward and smote the door loudly with his fist.

  “Enter,” said a voice from behind.

  The lead soldier opened the door and motioned for Bowen to proceed. The inner room was a large office, accommodated nicely with a bearskin rug and active fireplace. There were three men at the far end. The man seated at the large desk was the head of K'venneh, Commander Rovak. Bowen didn't know him, only of him. He was a strict man, precise and feared by his subordinates. Behind him stood two men more formally dressed. They had the look of bureaucrats.

  Bowen stepped forward and stood before the large wooden desk. The three men eyed him coldly. Bowen expected the commander to return the soldiers to their posts now that he had been directed to his destination, but no such order was given. The two soldiers stood their ground behind Bowen.

  “Good afternoon, Captain,” the commander said.

  Bowen gave the man a low bow. For many long moments, Commander Rovak said nothing. He seemed to be studying Bowen.

  “I've called you to us against my better judgment,” the commander said. “But the others wish to hear your side of the story. We've been trying to piece together the events that unfolded on our borderlands last month. We're at a loss to understand what's happened and were hoping you could enlighten us. Tell us...why have you betrayed your duty and your kingdom?”

  “Sir?”

  “Let me rephrase. Why have you assisted an unknown assailant in the construction and defense of a military installation within the territory of the kingdom of Kester?”

  “He's not an unknown assailant,” Bowen responded slowly. “And it isn't a military city, per se. It's an alliance city, being built as a meeting ground for all the kingdoms of this land, one which the people of Kester
have been given an equal share.”

  “Equal share!” the commander said, standing to his feet. “That city will be burned to the ground, and all who inhabit it taken prisoner or slain. It has killed citizens of Kester.”

  Bowen was taken aback. The people who attacked the alliance city were not under the protection of the commander's graces.

  “It was mercenaries who attacked the city, hired by forces not of this continent.”

  “Do you carry proof of that claim?”

  Bowen almost said yes immediately but stopped himself short of a reply. The mercenaries who had attacked the alliance city were technically people of Kester, though outlaws. Sheabor had the suits of armor from the fallen warriors as proof, and they had the testimony of Drogan, which should carry some weight. But they were both far away.

  Suddenly Bowen could see what a mistake he had made. This wasn't going to be a simple reprimand. Bowen had never been a bureaucrat. He had always been a man of action – get the job done and report in after. But this time, it would clearly cost him.

  Bowen cursed himself now that he and Sheabor and the rest hadn't taken a moment to stop and think. They had been so concerned with the threat from Corcoran that they hadn't considered anything beyond it. No wonder the people of Kester were in an uproar. Sheabor was erecting a walled city with all speed on the borderlands of their kingdom. Not only that, but the giants hadn't had any dealings with the people of Kester in over two centuries. Now, without warning, they send a war party through their bounds.

  “I'm not sure just what you expected to happen, Captain. Did you expect the people of Kester to sit idly by? Did you expect no one to come and challenge such an affront?”

  Bowen took a deep breath and calmed his thoughts.

  “Sir, I don't believe you've been told the whole story.”

  Bowen glanced at the two other men in the room who stood behind the commander who had yet to break their silence. They weren't in military dress, but had on the finery of diplomats. Bowen didn't know why diplomats had been sent to hear his debriefing but guessed it must be because Bowen had had dealings with the giants.

  “I, and a group of soldiers set out after a war party of the Bearoc, who sped across our northern territory from the lands of Aeleos, bound for the kingdom of the Horctura. We did not realize at the time that the giants were tracking another war party which had come that way days earlier – an elite force of warriors from the Banished Lands. That force set a trap for the giants and if we hadn't stepped in and intervened, the giants would have been destroyed completely.

  I was told of plans to build an alliance city at the crossroads of all the major kingdoms, one to unite the various peoples of this continent against the coming invasion from the Banished Lands. I assisted them because I believed we had no other choice in light of the gravity of such events. This alliance city has received full support of King Froamb of Forthura, the people of Melanor, and the Bearoc of Aeleos.”

  “Full support!” said the commander with a look of disgust. “Well I give you full support, Captain, to build a city in the land of the giants. See what kind of welcome you'll receive!”

  Bowen didn't respond. The commander was in fact right. Giving someone support to build a city in another kingdom was something of a meaningless gesture. But Forthura and the others had also committed their forces and supplies, which hadn't been mentioned. Even so, no one had even set foot in the kingdom of Aeleos in hundreds of years. For Drogan of the Bearoc to give support to Sheabor in building a city in someone else's kingdom was somewhat ludicrous, when the Bearoc didn't even allow admittance to their lands.

  “Even if I believed your story, Captain, you have stepped far beyond the bounds of your authority. You requested soldiers be dispatched to stop a force that threatened the people of Kester. Your request was granted. Only later did we get reports of these same soldiers being used as laborers on an unsanctioned project. Do you think you are king of these lands?”

  Bowen didn't respond, sensing the futility of it. Though it was true that Bowen had stepped outside the bounds of his authority, that he had stretched the lines of truth to get what he needed, the situation had been dire, a fact the commander didn't seem to grasp. But the commander still stared at him fuming, waiting for a reply.

  “All I can tell you, sir, is that everything I did had to be done. There's something coming that's bigger than all of us. If we do nothing, this kingdom will be swept away. I'm sorry there wasn't time to go through proper channels. If you knew the things that have happened in Forthura and the realm of the Horctura, you would understand. Has anyone been in contact with King Froamb?”

  “I don't see how that concerns you. And yes, Captain, we are aware of the larger situation. Your problem is that you have taken it upon yourself to act in the interests of the whole of Kester. You are not a diplomat, you are not an ambassador. Yet you have made alliances that affect us all without consulting any of your superiors. Does it matter that your cause was just? No. Does it matter that you believed you were doing the right thing? No. Do you know why you've been summoned here, Captain?”

  Bowen clenched his jaw and shook his head.

  “K'venneh is the nearest military outpost capable of engaging this new threat. I have been tasked with assessing and countering this threat by any means I see fit. You will tell me everything pertinent about this city – its strengths, its weaknesses, its numbers, its leaders. If you cooperate, you may yet come to wear the colors of Kester once more. If not, then I promise you, you will never again see the light of day.”

  Now Bowen understood fully. The commander was trying to scare him into singing like a bird. It was almost working. The commander was very good at his job – war. But he had chosen the wrong adversary. Bowen had no doubt the commander had been given the authority to lock him up in a cell for as long as the threat of the alliance city remained. Why did Sheabor choose to build the city in Kester's territory? How could he have been so foolish?

  But the thought struck Bowen that it could have been even worse if Sheabor had built just outside their territory. Building a fortress just outside the territory of Kester would undoubtedly have been taken as a prelude to invasion. Sheabor must have considered the implications of his actions. Bowen would have to trust him. He resolved himself not to act rashly, nor to act out of fear. Things would right themselves in the end. They always did.

  “What have you to say, Captain?”

  “It doesn't have to be this way,” Bowen responded. “Send an envoy to Sheabor. He's the leader of the alliance city and a reasonable man. I'm sure you'll come to some kind of understanding.”

  “I prefer to deal from a position of strength, not come grovelling to hostile foreigners. I will contact him if and when it serves my purpose and you will spend as much time as necessary in a dungeon to loosen your tongue. And if anyone else dies while you're locked away wrestling with your conscience, you will be held personally responsible for it.”

  It was ironic. From everything Bowen had heard of him, Commander Rovak was one of the most genuine, no-nonsense commanders in the field. He didn't flatter or deal in half-measures, nor did he seek to curry favor with his own superiors. He had gotten far in a kingdom otherwise drenched in politics. But it was that same sense of duty that made the commander disinterested in uncovering the whole truth. He had been tasked with securing the breach to the border of Kester. That was his role and he didn't concern himself with loftier notions of a bigger picture.

  Bowen would either aid him or be removed. Those were the options. Neither he wanted. How had he gotten into such a mess? And how had the forces of Corcoran so cleverly outmaneuvered them? They had first implicated the giants in the destruction of barbarian cities. Then they nearly eradicated Sheabor and the whole alliance city. And just to survive, Sheabor was forced to misconstrue himself as an aggressor and potential hostile threat to the people of Kester.

  “What is it you wish to know?” Bowen asked.

  “Their commander...
who is he?”

  “His name is Sheabor. He's Lord of the House, Cavanah.”

  “Cavanah? You believe that nonsense?”

  “The giants believe it. The captain of their war party now serves under Sheabor.”

  The commander was struck by the statement and glanced at the two bureaucrats over his shoulder.

  “Perhaps. But what does that matter?”

  “It should matter a great deal. The giants could be a very powerful ally.”

  “They could have been...until they sent a war party across our borders. Tell me, when did it become standard policy for the peoples of this continent to transgress the sovereignty of Kester at their leisure?”

  “You're not one to make friends easily, are you?” Bowen said with a smile.

  “I'm one to win wars.”

  “It takes friends to win wars.”

  “I choose my friends carefully. You've befriended the entire world!”

  The commander was growing impatient, clearly not in the mood for Bowen's playful comments. He was dangerously close to spending the rest of the day in a dungeon.

  “They're constructing their outer wall with remarkable speed,” the commander continued. “It suggests a more sizable workforce than we've been able to observe.”

  Bowen chuckled to himself. If the commander sneered at the thought of Sheabor being leader of the lost House of Cavanah, what would he think if Bowen told him the reason the outer wall was being completed so quickly was because two Builders had arisen, Baron and Blair, the first in twelve centuries?

  “They're very motivated, sir. They work day and night. They have perhaps a thousand persons at their disposal – mixture of soldiers and laborers, with others managing supply caravans.”

  “And where does their supply originate?”

  “From Forthura mostly. King Froamb has been more than generous. His people are in high spirits now that their longstanding conflict with the Horctura has subsided.”