“I'm sorry for accusing you of putting Dahlgrin's life in peril,” Tohrnan said. “I never meant to insinuate that you would ever do anything that your mother wouldn't have been proud of. I should never have said such a thing. I didn't mean it and I'm sorry.”
Ariadra felt a seething mixture of emotion. She almost wanted to come clean – see if he really meant what he said. But she kept her mouth shut and only accepted his apology with a smile and a nod. She needed to find Dahlgrin and tell him what had happened.
An Unexpected Arrival
Morning arose over the alliance city, finding it even more quiet than usual, for all construction had halted, the city's two Builders both now absent. Baron had departed days ago, bound for Eulsiphion, or so he said. Sheabor still wasn't convinced that Baron wouldn't secretly stop by Ogrindal first. And Blair had left last night in the opposite direction, in the middle watch of the night, on a mission known only to him and Sheabor, with Sorren accompanying him as his protector.
Sheabor had enacted a plan, something very delicate and dangerous that could crumble at the slightest ill turn of fate. All in the city were prepared to flee if forces from K'venneh marched to attack. In that unfortunate event, a general retreat to the lands of Forthura would empty the city, perhaps forever, or at least until Kester and the Bearoc came to peacefully join their cause. But by then it could be far too late.
Things in the city were fragile, more so than Sheabor knew. With construction halted, discontent was brewing among the people. Those of Forthura and Melanor still present had left their homes and families because they believed in what Sheabor was doing. But talk among the people suggested that most believed the city had failed. Why wait for Kester to attack? Why not just leave now? Sheabor was holding things together through sheer force of will. But something needed to happen soon or the alliance city would become a ghost town.
Even the first shipment of sands from the island were behind in their delivery. Jaithur had promised it soon, but it had been delayed without explanation and was long overdue. Sheabor inquired but Jaithur didn't honestly seem to know himself. The waiting was always the hardest part, with nothing to take one's mind off the discouragement of their situation.
Near evening, Sheabor waited atop the city wall, watching the sun descend in the west over the plains of Kester. He rarely took a moment just to stop and reflect, but when he did, a flood of anxious thoughts surged forward. Though he usually thought of Cora, this time his mind was on Bowen, whom he had left in a similar situation to his beloved wife, rotting in a dungeon.
But Sheabor didn't have long to ruminate. For approaching from the south was a swiftly moving caravan. They were coming from the direction of the forest. They must have taken a pathway through the woods to avoid detection from K'venneh. It was their first shipment of sands! Sheabor smirked, for it had arrived only just after Baron and Blair had departed.
Soon the main gate was opened and the Jedra flooded into the city, Jaithur at their head. He dismounted his horse and came round to the first cart, which contained a pile of sands. Though Baron and Blair weren't here to verify that these were in fact the same sands of the island, they looked identical to the sands Blair had brought back in his satchel.
“Thank you,” Sheabor said. “You've done just as you promised.”
“The Jedra always do.”
“Unfortunately, our Builders have both fled the city,” Sheabor said. “So we won't be able to make use of the sands just yet. But don't stop harvesting the island on that account.”
“We already have another shipment inbound.”
Sheabor placed both hands on Jaithur's shoulders, beaming from ear to ear. Then he invited Jaithur to walk with him.
“There's something else,” Jaithur said, stopping Sheabor in his departure. “I never told you the reason for our delay. When my people arrived at your island, there was a man waiting there for them.”
“A man?”
“At first, we suspected him of being an agent of Kester sent to investigate the mystery of the island. But on our arrival, he asked to be taken to you. My people brought him first to me, thinking him possibly a clever assassin. But when I set eyes upon him, I almost couldn't believe it. For I had met the man already once before, as have you.”
Sheabor didn't understand. But Jaithur extended his hand and a man was escorted to Sheabor. When they all saw him, no one spoke for many moments, for they couldn't believe their eyes. Somehow, their friend and companion, Durian, was walking up to greet them.
“Durian, what in the world are you doing here?” Sheabor asked. “Where is Pallin?”
“Perhaps we should speak privately,” Durian replied.
“Of course.”
Durian glanced about at the newly forming city and Sheabor extended his hand eagerly toward the council tent. They walked briskly, passing the nearly constructed meeting hall that Baron had been working on before his departure. And soon they were inside the council tent – Durian and a handful of persons. Most in the city hadn't recognized him, nor knew of his mission to find the tomb of King Euthor on the Banished Lands. But Aravas, Estrien, and Jaithur followed him closely, still dumbfounded that he was somehow back among them.
And Durian had a different air about him. He walked more confidently now, almost arrogantly and slowly, despite the fact that the rest were desperate to hear his tidings. Entering the tent, Durian walked to the back, approaching something that lay idle at the end of the table – Sheabor's hammer. His eyes narrowing, he took the weapon in hand, examining it carefully and began reading the poem etched on its side.
Sheabor was about to interrupt him, but Durian's countenance grew dark. The leather on the handle scrunched as though he were squeezing and twisting it tightly. What was going on? They all watched him intently. But Durian glanced over his shoulder and his gaze softened, and he placed the hammer back where he found it, turning round with a polite smile on his face.
“You've done well for yourself in these lands. You must be very proud.”
“Yes we are,” Sheabor said, brushing off the remark. “Durian, why are you here? And what's happened to Pallin?”
“Pallin has gone on ahead without me. You'll be pleased to hear that the resistance on the Banished Lands has begun to rout the forces of Corcoran. After the departure of Malfur, Corcoran has struggled to maintain control of the continent. Key members of his army have defected to your cause. I was sent back to bring you the happy news.”
Even though Durian declared the news happy, there was a strange displeasure in his voice in the telling of it. Sheabor was astonished and glanced around the room to the rest gathered for their reaction.
“The resistance has been wanting to send word to you for over a month,” Durian continued. “But they'd no one who knew the Eastern Realm well enough to get a message to you. So once Pallin and I met them, I volunteered for the mission. It seemed more important for me to return to you rather than accompany Pallin to the tomb of Euthor. Pallin doesn't need me anymore.”
What he said made sense. They considered his words but Sheabor's heart was beating quickly. Why hadn't Durian told him the one piece of information he wanted to hear? What about his wife, the princess, Cora?
“Has the resistance attacked the fortress of Malfur?”
Durian seemed to think carefully about the question and answered slowly as if unsure of his information.
“Yes, they have taken the fortress, setting free its prisoners.”
“Cora, did they find Cora?”
Durian glanced around at those standing by. Sheabor nearly stepped forward and shook him by the shoulders to ring the information out of him. Why was he being like this?
“I'm afraid she didn't survive,” he relayed slowly. “They say she died of grief.”
Sheabor was struck as if by a mortal blow, his hand staggering outward to brace himself but finding nothing. Estrien, who stood just beside him, caught him, and he began to break down in tears upon her shoulder.
&nb
sp; “They don't know exactly what happened,” Durian continued. “They think she stopped eating and that without her strength, she succumbed to the damp and the cold.”
None in the room uttered a word. Tears began to well up in the eyes of Estrien as she comforted Sheabor as best as she could. Durian clenched his temples as though hit with a sudden pain. But he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, returning his gaze to Sheabor.
“I'm sorry this news comes as such a shock,” Durian said. “But you couldn't honestly have expected a different outcome.”
Estrien's eyes blazed with teary anger at Durian. How could he say something like that? She was shocked that his countenance almost betrayed a hint of pleasure at the pain he was inflicting. Sheabor took a moment to compose himself.
“Everyone leave.”
Estrien glanced to Aravas, who for the time being, was intently watching Durian, a man he'd not met before this evening. But they did as they were commanded and filtered out of the tent one by one, each struck by the solemn tidings of Durian. Once outside, Estrien looked for Durian, who had already begun to wander off on his own. Taking a quick step, she reached out and grabbed him by the arm, spinning him about. He was less than pleased at being roughly handled and shook his arm free from her hold.
“You could have done that more delicately!” she declared in a harsh whisper.
“How delicately exactly can you tell a man that his wife is dead and that he is the cause?”
He said it loud enough that Sheabor undoubtedly heard from within and Estrien rushed at him, pulling him by the arm away from the council tent.
“What's the matter with you?” she demanded.
“Much,” he said, once more shaking his arm free from her grasp. “I nearly died following that man's foolish orders. And now look at me...right back with all of you just where I started. Don't I have a right to be angry? That man destroys everything he touches. If he can't even protect his own beloved wife, we are all fools to place so much hope in him.”
Durian's declaration stung. How could he say such a thing? Estrien looked to Aravas who was hovering close but saying nothing, his expression almost distant as he watched Durian silently.
“Nothing to add, Aravas the wise? I greatly value your guidance, after all.”
Aravas seemed struck by his question. Durian waited a few moments.
“Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a visit to make that's long overdue.”
Then Durian departed, leaving Estrien dumbfounded. The change in him was almost unbelievable. She looked to Aravas who still wore an expression of passive concern. Whatever Aravas was thinking, he wasn't interested in sharing it.
Estrien's heart began to race. This was indeed crushing news. While she was overjoyed to hear the resistance had had so much success in routing Corcoran's forces on the Banished Lands, closer to home the seeds of discontent were still sown wide among them. With this news of Cora's death, and with Durian back in such a fashion, things could very well spin out of control.
Not only that, but Sheabor had been formulating a plan for days – one he hadn't shared. He'd sent Blair off with Sorren to who knows where and was ready to make a move the moment forces from K'venneh came to march against the city. Without Sheabor, everything would crumble. Estrien recalled the encounter she had had with him earlier when he'd all but given up. And that was with the hope his wife still lived. Now, with such news, Estrien didn't know how he'd react.
At length she turned to Aravas. It was time he stepped in and took command of the situation, at least until Sheabor had time to deal with the news. Aravas had had an inkling of Sheabor's plan earlier and was respected by all the forces of the alliance city. He could keep things moving until Sheabor was ready to resume command.
“What are we going to do?” she prodded.
Aravas' eyes narrowed as he stared off in the direction Durian had disappeared.
“Sheabor is going to need some time alone to deal with this,” Estrien continued.
He nodded but still said nothing.
“Kester could strike at any moment.”
Both of them knew what needed to be done. She opened her mouth to declare it, but he cut her short.
“You must take command of the city,” he said.
“What?” she exclaimed. “No, you must.”
“It will be the people of these lands, not the Keepers of the Wind, who will fight the coming battle against Corcoran. They need to be led by one of their own.”
“You are one of us.”
Aravas only sighed and looked at her warmly.
“I care for you all very much,” Aravas said. “But I will never truly be one of you.”
Estrien clenched her jaw. She had only just recovered, only just come back to her duty. But if Aravas wasn't willing to step in, there were few other options.
“At least tell me what Sheabor's been planning.”
“I'm not sure entirely. But he sent Blair somewhere to the north to force the Bearoc's hand.”
“How?”
“By revealing them to the world. The Bearoc are hidden behind their high walls. None would dare lay siege to them. But a single Builder could wreak havoc quickly and undetected. I know where Sheabor sent them because he asked my counsel on which part of the wall was most vulnerable.”
Estrien was stunned. Such a mission could get Blair killed. And with only Sorren as his protector, the two could face any number of dangers along the way.
“How long do you think we have until Blair completes his mission?”
Aravas only shook his head.
“We will know it soon enough,” he said.
“Will we know it soon enough?” she asked doubtfully.
Aravas smiled.
“You have a lot to think about,” Aravas observed, his countenance lightening as he almost shooed her. “Had best be on your way.”
Estrien gave him a critical stare but took his meaning and swiftly departed, seeing Jaithur not far away pacing and pondering, and she approached him.
“I know we've only barely met,” Estrien began. “But Aravas and I have agreed that I take temporary command of the alliance city until Sheabor has recovered. Will that be a problem?”
Jaithur's brow furrowed and he gazed at her for long moments, but at length gave her a low bow.
“I know that Sheabor came to you for information,” she continued. “I need to know what was discussed.”
Jaithur gave her a stern look.
“What makes you think he came to me for information?”
“I don't have time to play games with you.”
Jaithur smiled at her boldness.
“He wanted to know the movements of the fortress K'venneh as soon as they were made.”
“And your son. When do you expect his return?”
“As soon as the task is completed.”
“What task?”
“Protecting the Builder.”
Estrien was growing weary of his short and curt answers. He wasn't seeming to grasp the gravity of the situation. Perhaps a change of subject would make the difference.
“Are you sure you told us everything about Durian...how you found him...how he got to the island...why he was all alone? Doesn't any of that strike you as odd?”
Jaithur nodded slowly and seemed to ponder for the moment. Durian alone on the island, waiting for someone to pick him up...It didn't all add up. Why wouldn't some of the resistance want to come with him, to offer a more detailed report on what was happening on the Banished Lands? Just to say that the war is going better than expected isn't much help to a military strategist.
And traversing the dangerous ocean just to deposit one man on an island didn't make sense. Estrien could tell it was bothering Jaithur also, that he too was suspicious of something deeper.
“I'm only now piecing together Sheabor's plan,” Estrien said. “Anything else you can offer will be helpful. I'm not sure exactly how Sheabor was planning to deal with an attack from K'venneh but if the
y do choose to march against this city, any advanced warning you can give us will be greatly appreciated. It will save lives.”
Jaithur gave her another low bow. Then Estrien was left alone with her thoughts. She thought of Straiah, how desperately crushed she'd be if word ever came to her of his death. Poor Sheabor. And to live with the knowledge that maybe he could have set her free if he'd stayed behind...
But thoughts of their current predicament flooded back. She wasn't satisfied that Durian had told them everything. But why be dishonest? If Durian was intentionally holding something back, or if he was misleading them, he would have to have a motive. Whatever that could be was a frightening prospect. Something must have happened to him on the Banished Lands. He had come back a changed man and she was going to find out why.
Estrien began to wander, losing track of time as the sun descended in the west. Nothing was making sense. But she saw something faint and far off in the fields beyond the wall, a handful of torches, borne by soldiers on horseback. Once inside the wall, the horsemen dismounted and made for the council tent. But Estrien headed them off, not wanting anyone to bother Sheabor.
“What's your business?” she asked, not recognizing them.
They were soldiers of Forthura, presumably sent on some errand of Sheabor and only now just returning. The lead soldier hesitated. Though she were a senior officer in the city, the information he carried seemed destined for Sheabor alone.
“I have tidings for Lord Sheabor,” he said.
“Sheabor isn't to be bothered. He's given me command of the city until further notice.”
The soldier seemed uneasy at her declaration, glancing around for someone else who could verify her claim. But Estrien stood there waiting.
“What's your news, Captain?” she asked.
“The giants have sent another war party through the lands of Kester. The fortress K'venneh dispatched men after them, but it seems that the giants have outpaced them. They're bound for the Westward Wilds.”
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 69
