As the sun rose over the east, Baron mounted the horse again and rode the rest of the journey. He was exhausted, having never before been so long on the road. Midday came and went and by evening, thin bands of smoke from the chimneys of many cottages rose on the horizon. Then cresting a small hill, the town of Suriya finally came into view. Baron breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally home.
Descending just as the sun bent low over the west, he was surprised by what he saw. Suriya wasn't the same place it had been. There was the semblance of a low wall that circled one whole side of town and the bridge connecting the two ends of Suriya had been destroyed.
Many of the buildings lay in tattered ruins, some with the evidence of hasty repairs, but others abandoned till a later date. The battle here had cost them dearly. And it wasn't just the enemy to blame. Straiah himself had said he'd demolished many of the buildings to harvest stone for the wall.
Something else surprised him. Even from a distance, he could see that the town was bustling, despite it being the dead of winter. As he approached the main road, the lanes were crowded with persons like he'd never seen. Baron had rather expected that many had perished in the battle. But Suriya had become largely a refugee camp for towns like Echlin.
Many had been displaced to Suriya while fleeing the barbarian horde, and some had clearly chosen to stay, at least through the winter. There was nothing like a Suriyan winter and he chuckled to think how they had fared.
Baron arrived at last in town. Many of the townsfolk he passed gave him curious looks, Baron looking out of place trotting through town on a stately horse. But Baron didn't care. He just wanted to get home. The town grew more intact the further he ventured in, the outer buildings having suffered the brunt of the attack.
Baron came away from the main road and down a small lane to a home whose chimney was busily seeping smoke. Lingering there for moments in silence, the horse gave his reigns a shake, asking in his own way if something was the matter. Baron reached down with a smile, patting the horse's mane and dismounted, tying the reigns to a nearby post. Then he pushed the door open slowly.
Someone was moving about indoors. Baron stood in the doorway, spotting his mother, Marin, near the cookware. She didn't look over to him but was busily setting things in order.
“Orin, close that door,” she commanded.
Baron took a step inside and lightly shut the door, removing his woolen coat and hanging it on a pin. It felt so surreal to be standing here, almost as though he'd never left. His mother turned suddenly to him as though startled by something. And for a moment she said not a word, just staring at him in shocked disbelief.
“Blair?” she asked taking a step toward him but Baron didn't reply.
“Blair, oh my goodness!” she said, now rushing to embrace him. “You're back! Are you alright?”
“I'm sorry,” he said, returning her embrace. “I'm just very tired. It's not Blair. It's Baron.”
“Baron?” she exclaimed.
Marin seemed shocked, having always been able to tell them apart. It signaled to Baron what a change had come over him.
“Come, sit by the fire. I'll get you some warm stew.”
Baron did as he was bade, grateful for the crackling heat.
“Your father's going to be so happy,” she said, milling about close by.
Baron felt a tinge of guilt and heartache. Seeing her joy made him think of Ariadra, how devastated she'd been over the loss of her mother. Baron had been worried on his voyage that something similar had happened in Suriya. But by and large, they were all managing well.
Baron's mother returned to his side and handed him a steaming bowl. Then she took a seat next to him. Baron poked at his stew and ate slowly, glad for the heat of the bowl in his cold hands more than the flavor on his lips. Glancing over, he saw a look of wonderment on Marin's face, who watched him sitting in silence, eager for him to share his tidings. The old Baron scarcely sat still a moment without spouting off whatever was on his mind. It felt like a lifetime ago since he'd sat here, harboring the idle cares of a young blacksmith.
“I'm sorry we didn't send word about how we were doing,” Baron said at length.
“The man who led the defense of the town with King Froamb against the barbarians said that he had met you and your brother in Thob Forest. He said you were safe but that you were fleeing through the barbarian kingdom toward the lands of Kester. We were so worried.”
Baron nodded slowly.
“That was the original plan,” he said. “But things kind of took an unexpected turn.”
He opened his mouth to say more but was lost on where to begin. His mother frowned at the meager supply of information he'd offered and Baron couldn't help but laugh.
“Don't worry, you'll see,” he said. “I need to rest, but in the morning, I'm going to begin rebuilding Suriya.”
Marin looked at him curiously. The way he said it, it seemed as though he was going to do the task single-handedly. Then Baron began to explain the events that had unfolded since the day of their departure from Suriya...what things led up to the attack of the barbarians and how he and Blair were helping the Lord of the lost House of Cavanah fight against the return of the ancient enemy. But he left out the part of his new ability, knowing what a shock it would give her to see him in action in the morning. Marin listened breathlessly, with wide eyes, her head shaking slowly at the unbelievable details. At length, Baron finished his story and his stew and Marin took the bowl from him as they both stood to their feet.
“Stay by the fire,” she said, pushing him back into his seat and carrying the bowl to the kitchen.
Baron chuckled but did as he was bade.
“What made you think I was Blair?” he asked over his shoulder.
“I dunno,” she responded, returning almost sheepishly from the kitchen.
“What?” he asked with a smile.
“You just had a sadness about you...more burdened than the Baron I remember. Not that Blair is morose. He's just always been more brooding.”
Baron nodded his head slowly.
“It's been...difficult.”
“If you want to talk about it...”
He offered a polite smile.
“Is father not home?”
“He's working late,” she responded in kind. “Not a day's rest since his two loyal laborers abandoned him.”
Baron smiled.
“He was none too pleased to fix Tobin's plow.”
Baron lifted his head back in laughter.
“It's all I heard about for days after you left. Tobin was livid, screaming for the return of his plow. He threatened to bring it to the Magister. Your father had no choice but to put in extra hours.”
Baron could only smile and shake his head.
“I'll find a way to make it up to him,” Baron said.
“Good luck,” Marin replied.
Then her face lit up as she recalled something she had forgotten and she reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Oh my goodness, you wouldn't believe it. They were so desperate for stone to use on the walls, they harvested what they could from Tobin's field. His tools might actually survive a season or two.”
Baron laughed loudly. He couldn't believe it. What a turn of fate. Just then, the door creaked open. Baron and his mother stood to their feet. His father hadn't noticed Baron's presence even with the laughter just seconds earlier. He seemed exhausted and turned to close the door and remove his thick coat.
“Did you know there's a horse tied up outside?” Orin asked before turning to find Baron standing alongside his mother.
“Thanks for the reminder,” Baron said. “Almost forgot.”
“Baron?” exclaimed Orin.
Baron turned to his mother and smiled.
“At least one of my parents can still tell us apart,” he said.
Marin shook her head and rolled her eyes with a smile and Baron met his father in the middle of the room with a warm embrace.
“Is Bla
ir with you?” Orin asked.
“No, he stayed behind. The city couldn't spare both of us.”
Orin gave Baron a quizzical look, suspecting he was joking. Baron only smiled. His parents were going to be in for quite a shock in the morning.
“I better see to the horse,” Baron said. “I promised him hay and a warm bed for the night. I'm sure he's getting restless. I'll be back soon.”
“I'd stable him with the horses from Eulsiphion,” Orin suggested. “There's a delegation here overseeing the refugees and the rebuilding. They've put up a shelter in the Market Town square.”
Baron nodded. It would be good to check in with them anyway. Baron exited his home. Seeing him, the horse let out a loud grunt.
“I know, I know,” he laughed. “We're going.”
The pair made their way to the center of Suriya, where Market Town had been just months ago. Now, a small tent community had been erected, which must have been miserable. Baron couldn't help but chuckle at the misfortune of the poor souls who'd been stationed here in the dead of winter. But at least the snows from the lanes of Suriya had already been piled all around them, providing some barrier against the roving winds from the Frostlands.
Baron trotted over to the head tent, dismounting and waiting a moment. But hearing a visitor, one of the delegation members emerged and greeted him.
“My name is Baron. I'm one of the architects from the alliance city. Sheabor has sent me to Forthura to help in the reconstruction process.”
The man eyed Baron skeptically. Baron had no identification or papers to prove his claims. But Sheabor wasn't really the type to formally issue orders on paper. He was used to the cloak and dagger of hiding in the woods from the forces of Corcoran.
“We've had some unexpected developments and we're ahead on the construction of the alliance city,” Baron continued. “Sheabor wanted to do something for Forthura to thank them for all the workers and supplies. He said I could pick any of the townships to help rebuild, and since I'm from Suriya...”
The man still eyed him in confusion, wondering what kind of a thank you it was to send a single laborer to help rebuild a town.
“You could help with the deconstruction of the wall, I suppose.”
“I have a fairly specific ability,” Baron replied. “Maybe I could take a look around in the morning and see where I'd be most useful.”
A sudden breeze whipped through and the man pulled his coat up tightly against his neck.
“Find me in the morning,” he said and turned toward his tent flap.
“I was told I could stable my horse here.”
The man pointed toward the larger tent in the middle of the assembly, then disappeared into his own.
“Thank you,” Baron said, but received no reply.
He chuckled to himself. Suriya. It was good to be home.
The Three Armies
The cavalry of Kester broke with all speed away from their main line of infantry, heading south in a wide circle to come round behind the smaller force of the alliance city.
“Infantry, fall back!” Estrien commanded. “Riders, with me!”
The soldiers marched as one, keeping to the northern wall to prevent the riders of Kester from flanking them on that side. The some twenty or so riders with the alliance gathered around Estrien who made south to head off the cavalry of Kester. The line of infantry moved slower than the advancing force of Kester. They wouldn't be able to escape unless she sounded a full retreat. But she couldn't do that until they'd accomplished what they came here for.
Estrien and Agur sped toward the flanking cavalry, holding her jeweled sword, Drune, high in hand. But as they approached the hundred or so riders of Kester, the force split into two groups, half turning to engage Estrien, and half continuing on their flanking maneuver to come around behind the alliance soldiers.
Estrien thought quickly. This was quickly becoming a nightmare. Even if she sounded the general retreat, her forces would never escape the cavalry without a fight. Bloodshed was inevitable. But as she pulled the ram's horn from her side to raise the call for retreat, suddenly the sound of crashing rock erupted from the mountain to the north. A large round rock began bouncing its way down from the heights, breaking off pieces of the mountain as it went straight toward the advancing soldiers of Kester.
The forces of Kester were sent into a flurry as they scrambled away from the deadly surprise. The cavalry stopped their advance and kept their distance, suspecting that somehow the alliance forces were trying to lead them into a trap. Estrien smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. A minute later, another large stone descended from the heights of the mountain toward the infantry line of Kester.
The horsemen who were attempting to flank Estrien's position now fully broke away and returned to their own forces. Blair may have just saved everyone. But where were the giants? Estrien's gaze was fixed to the north, to the broad gap in the wall leading to Aeleos.
“Lady Estrien, what is your command?” asked one of the officers.
“Hold here.”
“We have the chance to flee. But time is short.”
“We haven't accomplished our mission.”
“I don't think the giants are coming.”
“They'll be here. Just a few minutes more.”
Estrien knew that every minute they wasted would cost lives if the giants didn't come. She held the reigns tightly in her hands, her gaze still fixed on the gap in the wall. The forces of Kester were still advancing on them, though more carefully now and in tighter ranks than before.
“Lady Estrien, we must flee!”
Estrien took the ram's horn again in hand and raised it to her lips. But as she drew in a deep breath, there was a subtle rumbling to the north. She lowered the horn and waited. The rumble grew louder until all at once, a war party of the giants poured through the gap in the wall. There were dozens of them, each clad in broad armor with broadswords held high as they ran.
The army of Kester was thrown into another frenzy as they maneuvered to defend themselves against this new foe coming quickly to meet them in battle. The giants were here at last. The Bearoc spilled into the lands of Kester, quickly forming ranks and closing the distance to Kester's forces, which were now caught in between. Surely the giants wouldn't attack. But Estrien couldn't take that risk.
So galloping forward, she made for the forces of Kester who were busy reforming their ranks to meet the threat on both sides. If fighting broke out, it could lead to war. Estrien couldn't let that happen. Riding hard, the cavalry of Kester sped to meet her in the field and cut her off. But Agur seemed to sense Estrien's intent, and galloped in a fury along the wall of Aeleos, speeding her past the infantry of Kester and outpacing the cavalry until she reached the other side.
The giants were almost to the spearmen of Kester who raised their pikes against them. Estrien charged forward, placing herself between the forces of Kester and the giants, who were only a hundred paces away and showed no sign of relenting. The lead giant sprinted straight for Estrien, the ground beginning to tremble. She reared up on Agur who let out a powerful whinny, and the lead giant raised his broadsword to strike. Then, with a mighty leap, the giant sprang clear over her, nearly knocking her from Agur.
The giant landed with a thud just in front of the spearmen of Kester, raising his sword and letting out a deafening roar. The forces of Kester were frozen in terror and indecision, gripping their spears tightly in hand against the terrible form of the giant. But he didn't attack and the rest of the giants came to a halt in the field just beyond the forces of Kester. The lead giant turned and made for Estrien and she saw, to her great surprise and relief that it was Drogan.
Just then, the spearmen of Kester parted and four men came forward on horseback. One of them was heavily regaled in military ribbons and was clearly the commander of the forces here. Two others looked less like military men and more like ambassadors and the fourth man was Bowen! The group formed a broad circle, facing each other silently, and for
many moments, none spoke.
“Drogan,” Estrien greeted. “Bowen.”
Drogan replied with a nod, and Bowen raised his hands to his head in salute. It was then that Estrien saw he was bound as a prisoner.
“Good to see you on the mend,” Bowen said to Estrien. “Where's Sheabor?”
“He's taken ill.”
“Enough of this,” broke in the commander of K'venneh. “You have both made incursions across the sovereign borders of Kester. Anything more will be taken as an act of war. You will both peacefully remove your forces from our lands.”
“The Bearoc do not take orders from mere men.”
“We have no intention of fighting you,” Estrien replied. “But none of us are leaving this battlefield until we've come to an arrangement.”
“There can be no arrangement,” the commander replied. “Kester does not make concessions under duress. Remove your army and your city from our lands, and we will hold the necessary meetings through the proper channels.”
“There isn't time for all that,” Estrien said. “Don't you understand what's happening here? War is coming to this continent, and we will either stand together or perish one by one.”
“Your task is futile,” replied the commander of Kester. “I am not authorized to make treaties with foreign nations. I am the commander of one fortress. I do not speak for the whole of Kester.”
Bowen chuckled to himself. Commander Rovak was an exceedingly tiresome man when it came to rules and regulation.
“Perhaps we can be of assistance,” said one of the two ambassadors of Kester. “We have full authority in any matters pertaining to the Bearoc.”
The commander of K'venneh clenched his jaw but he didn't object.
“We are prepared to offer a treaty of peace and a cessation of hostilities to the Bearoc on the condition that one of our ambassadors be granted an audience in the lands of Aeleos.”
Drogan straightened his posture. No one had been allowed to the lands of Aeleos in centuries.
“Drogan, we are kindred spirits,” Estrien said. “Until this year, my city Melanor was a stranger to the world. We would gladly have lived out our days in seclusion. But we chose to side with Sheabor and stand together against the darkness.”
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 76
