Aerova was stunned. How could her father ask her to impersonate Ariadra and break the heart of the man her sister loved? There had to be another way. Aerova would never have admitted it, but she had many times impersonated Ariadra on her walks throughout the town. Ariadra had always been the confident, outgoing one. Aerova was the shy introvert. There were times when Aerova would take walks through the city, would smile and wave at those she passed by, and felt what it was like to exude an air of confidence. It was exhilarating but she always felt ashamed after doing it.
“Why won't Whinden just let her go?”
“He doesn't know of her engagement to Baron, and he mustn't know. He thinks she's a traitor. He thinks she's sided with the outsiders and is working against Ogrindal. After his decree that none leave the city, he would never consent to letting her go, especially if he knew why.”
“Where is she?”
“With the Forest Guard. They'll release her soon. If we bide our time and let things unfold on their own, everything will work out in the end. We just need to be patient.”
“But what if they kill Baron before we even know he's reached the forest?”
“I'm still a member of the council. The men respect me. I will make sure the Forest Guard does nothing without reporting it to me first. Let's just hope this Baron stays where he is.”
Right then, there was a loud knock on the door. Tohrnan opened to find a guard standing there.
“You may retrieve your daughter.”
Tohrnan set off with the guard toward the barracks where Ariadra was being held under guard. As they passed through the building to the end, Tohrnan saw his daughter sitting on a bed in a cell, staring at something she clutched in her hand. It was a stone pendant, white with blue swirls of color.
His heart went out to her. He lingered there a moment before she raised her eyes to see him. He offered a warm smile, but she didn't return it. Her eyes were red with tears.
“Come on,” he said. “Let's go home.”
Developments
A cloaked figure approached the alliance city in the night, coming from the north and reaching the wall in the second watch. Sheabor had retired to his tent, but sleep was slow to find him and the cloaked figure was brought directly to him.
Sheabor flung his tent flap open, a look of great surprise appearing on his face. For the hooded face gazing back at him was none other than Aravas. Aravas had left their company long ago, when Bowen had first come to Ogrindal claiming that a war party of the Bearoc had begun attacking settlements in the lands of the barbarians. Aravas had set off for the giants' homeland, the lands of Aeleos, for answers.
“I am sorry for the hour,” said Aravas. “But I knew you would want to hear my tidings.”
“Of course,” Sheabor replied. “Shall we?”
Sheabor motioned toward the council tent where they could speak in private. The fact that Aravas had come to the city alone almost spoke for itself, but Sheabor wasn't going to jump to any conclusions. The two walked slowly in silence, Aravas marveling at the city newly forming around them.
“It's incredible what you've accomplished!” Aravas exclaimed.
“We've got Baron and Blair to thank for all this. Your plan to send them to the Illian city worked out better I think than even you could have predicted.”
“I'd like to hear that tale sometime,” he said. “But not tonight.”
The pair arrived at the council tent and stepped inside, Sheabor giving Aravas his full attention. Aravas opened his mouth but then smiled politely and at length gave a sigh.
“The giants admire you greatly for what you've done,” Aravas began slowly.
Sheabor was struck by his tone.
“But,” he replied.
“But they don't believe you've acted in time to pose any real threat to Corcoran.”
“Well of course we don't pose a threat...not on our own. None of us does. That's why we need to band together – to act as one.”
“The Bearoc feel they'll be more effective if they work on their own, as they have always done. They're going to begin patrolling the coastlines. They're hopeful they can repel Corcoran before he ever establishes himself on this continent. If they can keep his warships at bay, it could be another century before the continents actually merge.”
Sheabor clenched his jaw and shook his head.
“I've already sent my best men to patrol the coastline,” he replied. “Do the giants understand we're walking on egg shells with Kester? They can't just send war parties down to the Westward Wilds whenever they want. Kester will be in an uproar.”
“The giants aren't overly worried about Kester. Kester wouldn't be so foolish as to attack them and provoke a conflict.”
“So what's it to be then...a war between Corcoran and the giants with everyone else caught in the middle?”
Aravas didn't respond but only sighed at Sheabor's discouragement.
“Aravas, this is absurd. How am I supposed to make decisions if I have to predict the movements of Corcoran and the movements of the giants at the same time? What will the giants do if soldiers of Kester try and stop them? Will they attack them?”
He could see in Aravas' eyes that he didn't know.
“I know what the Bearoc are planning,” Aravas comforted. “We can try and work with them as best we can. They will not foolishly engage Kester unless absolutely provoked and I am sure the men of Kester will be given the same orders.”
“This is how wars begin. One mistake here, another mistake there, and all of a sudden two peoples who never had conflict before are at each other's throats.”
Sheabor could only shake his head in abject frustration. How could the giants have chosen such a course? Sheabor and his alliance had accomplished more than anyone had ever dreamed since arriving here. They had already defeated Malfur, had discovered weapons and armor of immense value in the tomb of Sheyla, and had even trained two Builders with materials enough to equip an army. Sheabor hadn't planned on accomplishing even half of such a feat. Aravas had truly deflated him and Aravas knew it.
“I'm sorry that this news comes as such a shock. But you must understand that the Bearoc haven't had dealings with anyone from the outside world in centuries. I don't know that anything you could have done would have been enough to induce them into joining our cause.”
Sheabor was speechless. The giants were the first ones he had expected to enlist in the fight against Corcoran. Now they might undermine everything he had worked so hard to create. For the first time in a long time, he questioned whether he should have even come to this continent.
“I feel like such a fool,” Sheabor said. “I thought if we could only build a place where the peoples of this continent could gather and join as one, then we'd have a chance against the darkness. Now this place will lie desolate, a laughing stock to all who pass it by.”
“Don't lose heart,” Aravas said with a glimmer in his eye, placing a hand on Sheabor's shoulder.
Estrien's strength was returning day by day and she could sit up from bed at last without dizziness or fatigue. But she awoke now with none to greet her. When Straiah had been at her side, he'd conveyed in agonizing detail every happening of the city, undoubtedly, in his mind, trying to make her feel a part of things. But since his departure with Gwaren, Estrien was on her own.
She emerged from the medical tent into open air, at last ready to resume her duty. The morning chill still hung in the pale light of sunrise and setting off toward the center of town for the morning meal, she was surprised by how desolate the city felt. Before the battle with the mercenaries, the city was bustling with peoples from all throughout the continent. Now, only a handful ambled the byways or even the main path. It almost frightened her to think how vulnerable the city was. But Sheabor knew what he was doing. After the morning meal, she would find him and would at long last get back to work.
Estrien arrived in the center of town to a sparsely populated scene. Many of her fellow Melanorians were there, and lab
orers from Forthura. But beyond that, all others seemed absent and a blanket of muteness befallen, as though the heart of the people had gone out of the project. It saddened her to see it. But as she sat poking her stew, someone approached alongside her.
“Lady Estrien,” the young man exclaimed. “You're out of bed!”
Estrien smiled and nodded. The young man's name was Edvin. He didn't presume to sit beside her, but gave her a bow. Estrien set down her bowl and arose slowly, returning his traditional, formal greeting.
“The healers of Ogrindal are quite proficient in their art,” she responded.
“Are you going to take back command of our people?” he asked.
Estrien was struck by his question, or rather, his eagerness in asking it.
“Our people haven't been mismanaged, I trust?”
“No,” he retracted. “But we need strong leadership for the coming days.”
Estrien didn't know exactly what to make of Edvin's remarks but they betrayed a hint of discontent at the current state of things.
“I'm going to see Sheabor just after the morning meal,” she said.
“Of course.”
Edvin gave her a bow and turned to depart. Estrien resumed her meal but was troubled by the brief encounter, though she couldn't say just why. Late morning, Estrien went to gain an audience with Sheabor. She'd heard from some of the others that Aravas had returned from the lands of Aeleos. But from their talk, it sounded as though his mission had largely failed. There was talk that the giants weren't going to join them.
Estrien wasn't one to care about the latest gossip but would rather hear the truth from Sheabor himself. She didn't know where he was, but the council tent was always a good place to start. He had grown reclusive it seemed, the people rarely seeing him anymore. He was always in the council tent, they said, planning and spending his days in solitude.
When she arrived, she pushed open the tent flap and found Sheabor standing alone with his back turned toward the entrance. He wasn't occupied with anything in particular and didn't even seem to notice her, but then, after a few moments, he spoke.
“Yes, what is it?” he asked.
“I'm reporting in,” Estrien responded. “I'm ready to resume my duties.”
Estrien paused, expecting him to turn and greet her with joy, for she hadn't spoken with him directly in weeks. But he didn't turn or even show interest in hearing her voice.
“Do whatever you feel is most important,” he responded.
She didn't say anything for a few moments but chose her words carefully.
“I'm not certain what's most important, sir.”
“Nor am I.”
Estrien was dumbfounded.
“Has something happened?”
“Unfortunately,” Sheabor replied. “Nothing has happened. Our work here has been in vain.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our entire time on this continent has been an exercise in futility – two steps forward, three steps back. Straiah and I should never have come here. At least then, Cora might...”
Sheabor stopped short, shaking his head with a sigh of despair.
“But you've accomplished so much,” she pleaded.
“Have we?” he said, now spinning around in anger. “I wanted to build this place as a meeting ground for all the peoples of this continent.”
“And we will.”
“And who will come? Bowen and his forces have left us, possibly never to return. The giants have no interest in allying with us. Ogrindal has withdrawn its people, and the Horctura are decimated. We have King Froamb and your fellow Melanorians. Hardly a melting pot of peoples worthy of a city of their own to meet in.”
“You've given up then?”
Sheabor clenched his jaw. Estrien didn't know what to say. She knew only a little of Sheabor's situation but she had never seen him like this. Straiah had told her of Sheabor's wife, Cora, imprisoned by Malfur on the Banished Lands. The resistance on the Banished Lands had surely already set her free, but not knowing for certain must be driving him mad. A man like Sheabor could only stand it if he knew that his every waking breath was making a difference. But to know that his actions were really futile...that was more than a man like him could bear.
“I'm sorry for how things have turned out,” Estrien said.
She greatly wanted to comfort him further, but anything she said would seem like trite sentiment. She was surprised to learn that the Bearoc weren't going to join their cause. They had been a solitary race for hundreds of years, not permitting anyone from the outside into their lands. But to act alone was counterproductive. It was crushing news. Without the alliance city as a meeting ground, Kester would be thrown into a frenzy the next time the giants sent one of their war parties through their lands.
“If this alliance city has failed, the rest of us has a right to know,” Estrien said. “If this continent isn't going to stand against Corcoran as one, then each of us must look to our own affairs.”
Sheabor nodded slowly, staring down at the table before him.
“You have a grand vision,” she continued. “Getting others to share it will take time.”
“I wish I could believe you. We've accomplished more here than I ever would have dreamed possible when we set out after Malfur to come and warn this continent. If what we've done so far hasn't inspired the rest, I'm afraid little else will. It will be the same as before. Corcoran will strike without warning, and the peoples of this land will fall one by one. As for you and the Melanorians, if you decide not to stay, you are free to withdraw your forces. All the rest have done the same.”
Estrien wanted immediately to say no, to assure him that they were still behind him, but her encounter with Edvin earlier this morning gave her pause. To force them to stay and work on a dead vision would only brew discontent. She nodded thoughtfully. There had to be another way, something Sheabor hadn't yet considered.
“We should seek the counsel of Aravas,” she concluded. “He is wise and cunning.”
Then Estrien bowed and departed the council tent, her heart beating quickly. If the alliance city was abandoned, what would become of Straiah and Gwaren? They'd be caught between the forces of Corcoran and the less than welcoming forces of Kester. It was time to find a solution to their problem. Sheabor may have given up, but Estrien had only just begun. Aravas must have some kind of idea. She didn't want to bother him after his long journey, but some things couldn't be helped.
Estrien approached his tent slowly and standing outside, her sense of propriety kept her at bay. Aravas had lived in Melanor for over a millennia. She and her people held a deep respect for him. But as she stood there, suddenly a voice sprang out from within.
“Are you going to enter or not?”
Estrien blushed and then pushed open the tent flap. Aravas was seated and invited her to join him, a cup of warm tea beside him. Aravas studied her warmly, offering her his tea, which she declined.
“Aravas, Sheabor isn't himself,” Estrien said as she took a seat.
Aravas nodded.
“This entire project is on the edge of failure,” she continued.
“Believe it or not, failure of this project might be exactly what is needed.”
“I don't follow.”
“Sheabor is a great man, but his thinking is confined and narrow. He leads as he always has – as the lord of a kingdom. But these lands have enough kingdoms. What they need is unity.”
“What are you suggesting?” she asked.
“The people of Kester care very little about the far off threat of Corcoran. Two far more impending threats have arrived simultaneously at their doorstep – the giants and the alliance city. We must find a way to force Kester into choosing between the lesser of the evils that now threaten its sovereignty.”
Estrien didn't fully take his meaning, but what she did ascertain was the fact that Aravas was actually happy about the fact that the alliance city was failing. It would force Sheabor into a different line of t
hinking other than what he was used to. But Aravas suddenly arose, gulping down his tea and extending his hand.
“Shall we?” he asked.
“Shall we what?” she asked.
“Go and tell our idea to Sheabor.”
“Our idea?”
Aravas paused as they left the tent, looking her in the eyes.
“Do you think it mere coincidence that you are finally ready to resume your duty on the very day I return from Aeleos? I have no clue what our idea is yet. But together we will go to Sheabor and whatever must be said will be said. Trust in the power of fate, my dear.”
Decisions
Ariadra spent the first day locked away in her old room, consenting to see no one, not even her sister, Aerova. Her father had given her the decision of the council, that she was to remain here in Ogrindal for the foreseeable future, and perhaps forever. He had warned her not to ever mention her engagement to Baron, and encouraged her that in time, things would work themselves out. Ariadra was lost to despair, the situation too overwhelming to deal with. She wandered about in small circles in her room, thinking of her mother and Baron.
The second day, she felt her life returning and arose early, before her father and sister, leaving her family home on a mission. But she didn't get far, for just outside the door was waiting a man she recognized. It was Dahlgrin, the man who had been the custodian of Baron and Blair when they'd first stayed behind in Ogrindal. Dahlgrin took a step toward her and gave her a bow.
“I've been assigned as your guardian,” Dahlgrin said. “Just as I was for Baron and Blair.”
Ariadra nodded but said nothing, staring at the ground.
“I requested the position,” he asserted, which drew her gaze up to meet his.
The message in his eyes gave her a glimmer of hope, for she saw a willingness to help her. She nodded gratefully that she understood him.
“You're up early,” he continued. “I always had to drag the two Suriyans out of bed.”
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