The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  Ariadra managed a smile, thinking fondly of Baron.

  “I'm going to visit the grave of my mother.”

  “I'll accompany you.”

  “It's not necessary.”

  “I'm afraid that it is.”

  Ariadra clenched her jaw but departed with Dahlgrin nonetheless, making their way toward the outer wall. The people of Ogrindal had a burying ground not far away in the forest, though the noblest of their people were buried in tombs within the Ruhkan Mountains themselves. Most however, were laid to rest in a common plot in a pleasant meadow just outside the town, where her mother would undoubtedly be.

  Ariadra and Dahlgrin were the first on the main road and Ariadra pulled her coat tightly around her, for a roving wind was blowing through the streets as she had never felt before. The Ruhkan Mountains funneled every bit of foul weather from the north directly toward them – wind and rain and snow. The wall, when it was still intact, had shielded them from the brunt of it. But now, Ogrindal was largely at the mercy of the elements.

  The pair sped all the more quickly to the main wall, where a pair of guards waylaid them. Dahlgrin took a step forward to greet them and Ariadra a step back.

  “Where are you taking her?” one of the guards asked.

  “To visit the grave of her mother.”

  “Ah, yes,” said the other. “We've heard that story before.”

  Ariadra flushed red and Dahlgrin gazed at them sternly, not understanding the reason he was being so questioned. He was in good standing with the council. Ariadra, meanwhile, fought back a tear. She had used her mother as an excuse for leaving the city before and now was sorry for it. Dahlgrin said nothing further but fixed his gaze on the guard's eyes. After another moment, the guard stepped aside.

  “She's your responsibility.”

  Then the two were out in the open forest. Ariadra began to shiver, half from cold and half from emotion. She felt so fragile, unused to the way people were looking at her. But she didn't like feeling like a victim either, as though her fate wasn't in her own hands. She took a deep breath as they made their way into the forest. She wouldn't let small men like Whinden and Dhelgar decide her destiny. There had to be a way to find her freedom. She just needed some time to think.

  The two walked for nearly an hour to reach the meadow, setting a quick pace, but when they came within sight of it, Ariadra froze, unable for the moment to continue. She had been angry and distracted by her present circumstance, but seeing the burial ground of her people turned her emotions all to grief. A strong feeling of nagging guilt that somehow she was responsible for her mother's death arose and Ariadra couldn't bear to face her. Dahlgrin placed his hand on her shoulder and offered a warm smile.

  “Your mother was a strong woman. She has been greatly missed.”

  Ariadra nodded, already wiping the tears from her eyes. It wasn't her fault what had happened to Ogrindal. Why was she feeling this way?

  “I thought you might want to come here, so I made sure I knew which plot was hers,” Dahlgrin continued. “It's toward the southwest. Shall I show you?”

  Ariadra gave him a teary nod, glad for his company. She had feared the notion of searching for the grave aimlessly, then suddenly stumbling upon it. Instead, she focused merely on following Dahlgrin. The tears blurred her vision but she traveled behind him, nearing her family plot of ground. Her parents had taken her here as a small child, to visit the graves of her grandparents.

  Ariadra was shocked to see that many of the graves she passed were freshly dug. It renewed the feeling of anger and bitterness she'd felt against Sheabor and the others. But she reminded herself that they couldn't have known what would soon befall the city. Dahlgrin came to rest over a gravestone freshly laid. Saying nothing and without turning round, he simply departed, leaving Ariadra alone, her heart beating faster as she approached slowly, almost unable to bring her eyes close enough to read the name it bore.

  Tears began to flow, which she wiped away as she stooped down, seeing her mother's name in stone. In that moment she lost control. Ariadra wept bitterly and crumpled to the ground. How unbelievable that only a week ago, she had been perfectly happy, with so much hope for the future. How had it all been snatched so quickly?

  The minutes stretched on, Ariadra lost to despair. But after awhile, she composed herself, gazing down fondly as though he mother were there in the flesh to speak to.

  “I'm to be married, mother. You'd have loved him.”

  Ariadra smiled, imagining her mother's eager nod, whenever she heard good news.

  “I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you.”

  But in her mind's eye, she suddenly saw a scolding look enter her mother's countenance and the words You'd only have died too, escape her lips. Ariadra was struck by the notion. You have a bigger destiny than Ogrindal can give she felt her mother say. And suddenly, Ariadra felt a peace wash over her, knowing what she had to do.

  And so, with new resolve, still wiping the tears from her eyes, she arose and departed to Dahlgrin who lingered at the edge of the meadow.

  “Dahlgrin, I'm not staying here,” she declared. “I'm leaving Ogrindal. You can either aid me or turn me in.”

  Dahlgrin took a step forward, raising his hands in caution.

  “You must speak softly,” Dahlgrin said. “I don't know if we're being watched.”

  Ariadra glanced about to the forest.

  “Come on,” Dahlgrin said. “Let's head back. We'll talk on the way.”

  The two set off and walked in silence for many minutes until Dahlgrin spoke up.

  “I want to help you, but you may need to bide your time until spring.”

  Ariadra stopped, shaking her head in protest. Dahlgrin turned and came over to her.

  “You'll never make it through the forest. The journey is long and the Forest Guard are everywhere. Your only chance is to take the same pathway over the mountain that Durian and Pallin took. But it's winter now and you wouldn't survive the cold. By springtime, the passage will open.”

  “Baron doesn't have until spring,” she said. “He won't wait that long to come and find me. He'll grow worried and make up an excuse to leave Sheabor and the others. I know he will.”

  “If he does come, surely the Forest Guard won't harm him.”

  “I don't know what they'll do. The decree orders that anyone found along the pathway to Ogrindal be killed. My father managed to convince the council that I have no attachment to him. He's hoping that Baron's responsibilities will keep him in the alliance city. But my father doesn't know Baron like I do. He'll come for me. I know he will. And he'll be walking right into a trap.”

  Ariadra's voice quivered as she spoke, and she wiped away tears newly forming in her eyes. Dahlgrin embraced her warmly.

  “Don't give up hope. What if we could get a message to him somehow...let him know you're safe but have urgent business here until spring? You could tell him that the passing of your mother has delayed your plans.”

  “But how would we get a message to him?”

  That was the question. They had to get themselves out to get a message out. The entire forest was now under guard. And Ariadra knew that Whinden suspected something more than what Tohrnan had told the council about her attachments to Baron and the alliance city. Whinden would be overjoyed by an ill-prepared escape attempt from her. She only had one chance and she had to make it count. She settled her emotions and looked Dahlgrin in the eyes.

  “Dahlgrin, I have no choice but to take the mountain pass. I don't ask you to come with me.”

  Dahlgrin sighed and his countenance grew solemn.

  “Baron's my friend too,” said Dahlgrin, after long moments. “We'll leave as soon as it's safe. But you must let me do the planning. If you begin gathering supplies, they'll know you're up to something. They may even be watching me. I'm not certain.”

  Ariadra felt the first sigh of relief since setting foot in Ogrindal. But her worry grew as well. The mountain pass was treacherous, even in good condition
s. If she should perish, then Baron would perish as well, when he finally came to find her. Maybe that was for the best. But poor Dahlgrin. Her eyes filled with gratitude for him but his showed a sudden sternness.

  “You're going to have to try and recover your strength,” Dahlgrin said. “You won't survive unless you spend the next couple of days eating well and sleeping well. I know you're anxious and grieving, but there's no chance for us up there if you're not healthy.”

  Ariadra nodded. Dahlgrin was right. She couldn't remember having eaten a thing since her arrival and she'd barely slept.

  “Let's go back,” she said. “I haven't even spoken with my sister yet.”

  The two set off and arrived back in Ogrindal by midday. Ariadra stepped into her family home just as her father and sister were sitting down for a meal. Tohrnan wore a look of great relief in seeing her and Ariadra stepped forward to embrace her twin sister warmly.

  “It's so good to see you!” Aerova declared. “Father and I have been worried sick about you.”

  “Where have you been?” her father asked.

  “I was visiting mother's grave.”

  Tohrnan straightened his posture at her reply.

  “Will you have something to eat with us?” Aerova asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  Ariadra wasn't hungry but she ate all the same and her father seemed surprised to see her already beginning to recover.

  “I heard that Dahlgrin is, um,” Aerova stumbled to find the right word.

  “Chaperoning me,” Ariadra said.

  “Accompanying you,” Aerova returned.

  “Don't worry,” her father offered. “Soon, this will all be behind us.”

  He gave her a polite smile, which Ariadra returned.

  “What was it like in the alliance city?” Aerova asked. “Did you meet people from all over the continent?”

  Ariadra nodded eagerly. Before leaving for the alliance city, Ariadra had never been outside Thay Iphilus Forest, nor had Aerova. She remembered how exhilarated she felt to set off on such an adventure.

  “I even met one of the giants,” Ariadra said.

  Aerova's eyes went wide. The giants had always been a myth. Though the lands of Aeleos far to the north were bordered by high mountains and walls, none in Ogrindal really believed that a race of giants dwelt there.

  “Father says you're engaged to be married!”

  Aerova glanced to her father to see if there were disapproval in his eyes that she had brought up the subject. Ariadra nodded slowly and stared down at her plate of food.

  “I wanted the wedding to be here, among my friends and family.”

  Aerova placed her hand on Ariadra's arm in support.

  “We may yet, one day,” her father encouraged. “I haven't given up on Ogrindal. Whinden's legacy will be short lived, I am convinced.”

  Ariadra didn't challenge him or add anything further. She didn't want them growing suspicious of her plans to flee for they would surely try and stop her.

  “I hope you're right, father,” was all she said and then changed the subject. “I'd like to start working on a project somewhere...help take my mind off things.”

  Tohrnan was pleased. Though he didn't know where her new found tranquility sprang from, he seemed happy for it.

  “That's a wonderful idea. Are you sure you're up for it?”

  Ariadra nodded.

  “There's no shortage of things to be done.”

  “I'll have Dahlgrin find something suited to my skills,” Ariadra said. “Thank you for the meal.”

  Ariadra arose and departed. Aerova glanced over to her father, who wore a concerned look. Though he was glad to see her in such high spirits, it didn't all add up in his mind. Ariadra would put on a good face and work hard for the time being, get the watchers to relax their gaze before her escape. There was still time, she knew, before Baron would grow worried and come looking for her.

  The supply caravans from Forthura arrived at the alliance city about once per week. When she didn't come with the next one, Baron would grow concerned, but not enough to act rashly. When she still didn't come or even send word with the caravan to follow, that's when she worried that Baron would set out after her. But that was weeks away. He would probably ride out with the caravan on their return to Forthura, making some excuse to Sheabor why he needed to travel home, or to Eulsiphion to see King Froamb. But for the present, time was still on Ariadra's side. She would wait until the last moment before fleeing. Ariadra left her home to find Dahlgrin waiting outside for her.

  “I want to start working,” Ariadra said.

  Dahlgrin looked at her in intrigue.

  “I'd like to resume my duties as a seamstress,” she continued. “It's what I was always best at. I can mend and restore garments and help battle the onslaught of the early winter.”

  Dahlgrin nodded slowly, seeming to suspect her motives. As a seamstress, she would have access to all kinds of garments, and could tailor the kind of coats they would need for braving the heights of the Ruhkan Mountains.

  “They'll be overjoyed for your help,” Dahlgrin said.

  Ariadra was glad for it, not just because it would provide her a means to further her escape, but she genuinely wanted to do something good for Ogrindal in her time here. So she worked diligently in the days to follow, banishing her anxious thoughts, and no one seemed the wiser. She thought she caught sight of people in her periphery who seemed to be there one second and gone the next, watching her. But it might have been all in her imagination. The coming days would tell.

  Captives

  Durian's hands were bound as the soldiers dragged him through the forest and away from shore. He felt both relief and terror to be in the presence of other living souls. Were these soldiers of the resistance? Or were they forces of Corcoran? Their clothes were leather and cloth, meant for stealth – not the armor he'd seen from warriors of the Dungeon Core, when they'd first encountered them.

  “Where are you taking me?” Durian questioned.

  “Quiet!” one said and slapped him in the face.

  “You're part of Sheabor's resistance, aren't you?”

  “Not another word!”

  Durian did as he was bade and went with them silently. If they meant him harm, they could very well have killed him on the beach. They wanted to secure him in a safe location before questioning him, which was good enough for Durian. The hillside grew markedly steeper and more rocky and the small party skirted the bottom of it for many minutes, coming round the bend to the mellow glow of a fire. When they arrived, the man holding Durian by the arm thrust him forward and he stumbled, nearly falling into the fire.

  “We found him alone on the beach, amid wreckage from a ship,” a soldier said to an older man seated around the fire.

  From their meager operation, these men must not have been soldiers of Corcoran. The older man eyed Durian carefully.

  “I had a companion,” Durian spoke up. “An old man. Did he make it to shore? We need to find him.”

  The commander of the troop looked warily at Durian glancing to the soldier who had brought Durian to him who shook his head and spoke.

  “We found no other.”

  “Tell us who you are and where you came from,” the commander demanded.

  “My name is Durian. I came from the continent across the sea, the Eastern Realm. We were sent here by Sheabor to look for the tomb of King Euthor. It holds something of great value. We need to find it.”

  The commander sneered at him, clearly discerning Durian to be less than an able soldier, not the kind of person sent on vital missions. Durian opened his mouth to say more but before he could react, the man produced a knife from the folds of his garments and whipped Durian around, the knife now at his throat.

  “I've killed men younger than you, boy.”

  “Please!” Durian pleaded. “I'm telling you the truth!”

  Durian felt the knife leave his throat and a powerful foot kick him in the back, sending him to the gr
ound. If only Pallin were here. He'd know what to tell them...how to convince them they were who they said they were. The commander stepped forward, drawing a sword and pointing it down at Durian.

  “I'm giving you one more chance,” he said.

  Durian's eyes went wide and his mind went blank. But then, without warning, the sounds of battle erupted just nearby. The commander turned, yelling to his men who were already engaged with armored soldiers that looked just like Dungeon Core warriors now pouring into their small camp. Durian scrambled away amid a flurry of feet but was kicked in the side of the temple, dazing him.

  One of the soldiers of the resistance fell dead just beside Durian, his sword landing beside him in the dirt. Durian tried ineffectually to grab it, which only drew the attention of one of the Dungeon Core who stepped on the sword with one foot and kicked Durian in the head with the other. Durian's world spun, pairing with the exhaustion from his previous ordeal and coaxing him into unconsciousness. The battle seemed to grow distant and Durian clenched his eyes shut, trying to stay awake.

  “Pursue them!” a yell rose above the chaos.

  Durian opened his eyes in time to see the soldiers of the resistance fleeing into the forest. They had abandoned him. One of the Dungeon Core swiftly approached Durian, who shuffled away but right into the feet of another warrior who grabbed Durian by his vest, pulling him to his feet.

  Durian froze as the the man's steely cold eyes peered at him from behind a black helm. His gaze was piercing, and Durian couldn't bear to meet it. He looked Durian over thoughtfully – his tattered clothing and the ropes around his wrists. And then, without a word, he thrust Durian toward another soldier who grabbed him.

  “We make for the fort,” the lead Dungeon Core warrior said.

  “But sir, we have the resistance on the run,” another responded.

  “Do as I say.”

  Then, without a word, Durian was shoved forward into the forest. His mind raced for something to tell them...anything that would somehow get him out of this situation. He had been a prisoner of the resistance after all. Maybe he could make them believe he was on their side. Turning to speak to them, Durian caught his foot on a root and fell headlong to the ground. He couldn't shield himself from the fall and came down hard on the uneven forest floor. Pain filled his side and his head, where each met with the unyielding earth. He could feel himself slipping away toward unconsciousness.