The Banished Lands- The Complete Series
Page 77
Drogan said nothing for long moments.
“We will agree to your terms,” Drogan finally replied.
The ambassadors from Kester were elated. The chance to visit the heart of Aeleos was everything they had worked their entire lives for.
“We will make arrangements immediately!” one said.
“No,” replied Drogan. Then he pointed to Bowen.
“This man is known to us. He will be the ambassador to the Bearoc.”
Bowen's face lit up with intrigue. He had just gone from prisoner to one of the most important men in Kester. The ambassadors were horrified but there was nothing they could do. If Bowen was who the Bearoc wanted, then he was who they would get.
“Commander Rovak, release this man,” the lead ambassador commanded.
Commander Rovak shot a look of fury at them for daring to give him an order. But in the end, he nodded to one of his soldiers, and Bowen was freed. Bowen trotted slowly over to Estrien with his signature roguish smile.
“Glad to have you back,” she commented.
“I assume my duties require me to report to you now,” Bowen said.
Estrien smiled with a nod.
“This changes nothing,” broke in Commander Rovak, charging a step forward on his horse toward Estrien. “Whatever treaty is signed with the Bearoc, it does not indemnify the rest of you. You have constructed a fortress inside the bounds of Kester and have killed its citizens. I will not allow you to leave this battlefield in anything but chains. You're outnumbered and out-provisioned.”
“The alliance city and its forces are under our protection,” Drogan declared. “We are among its founding members. If you arrest them, you must arrest me also. I was in the battle which killed those mercenaries you claim as citizens. But be warned, I will not go peaceably.”
Commander Rovak was speechless and he gripped the reins of his horse tightly in fury. Estrien rode a step toward him.
“I know you have a job to do and I respect that,” Estrien said. “Our city has violated your sovereign borders. I'm sorry to be a thorn in your side, but I assure you that you have nothing to fear from us. We're a gathering place for the people's of this continent, nothing more.”
Commander Rovak gazed steadily at her for long moments until at length the grip from his reins loosened.
“You've had your victory today,” he responded. “Do not expect anything more from me.”
Estrien bowed. That was fair enough. He had been defeated and humiliated. She couldn't expect additional graces from him. She only hoped he would consider her words down the road and focus his attentions elsewhere. The army of Kester began to disperse and the two ambassadors trotted up next to Bowen.
“Your friends are very loyal,” one said.
Bowen nodded.
“We want regular reports,” the other continued. “And a full record of every detail of your travels in the lands of Aeleos. Do whatever it takes to strengthen our relationship with them.”
Bowen smiled. Then the two rode away and Estrien breathed a sigh of great relief.
“Come on,” she said. “It's been a long day.”
“I will remain with you,” Drogan said. “The rest will return and give a report. I don't know if our leaders will accept the decision we've come to but I trust they'll now see what lengths you and your alliance are willing to go to force us all to work together.”
Estrien smiled wide.
“You have Sheabor to thank for that.”
Drogan seemed troubled at his absence and rightly so. But everything would be explained when they reached the alliance city. Just then, Blair and Sorren approached from the mountain.
“Apologies, friend,” Blair said to Drogan.
Drogan flashed a look of anger but gave him a nod at length. Then the group set off, arriving after nightfall to the alliance city. As they dismounted, some of the party of the Jedra approached them, seeking Jaithur. Jaithur went to them and after a few moments turned to Estrien.
“Let us adjourn to the council tent,” he said.
Estrien, Drogan, Aravas, Blair, Jaithur and Sorren made their way to the council tent but Bowen declined their offer, departing to enjoy his first night of freedom. Once inside, Jaithur hovered over the map of the Eastern Realm spread out on the table.
“Our scouts have reported in,” he said. “The man, Durian, reached the lands of the Horctura and made southeast with all speed.”
“Durian?” Blair questioned in great surprise.
Estrien had forgotten that Durian showed up after Blair and Sorren had left for the wall.
“Yes,” Estrien replied. “The Jedra found him on the island. He claimed to have made contact with the resistance on the Banished Lands and returned to us to report while Pallin continued on without him. But just after he got here and reported in, he left again, saying he had a long overdue visit to make. Do you know what he could have meant?”
Blair shook his head slowly.
“Where is he now?” Estrien asked.
“He stopped somewhere in this region,” Jaithur said, circling his finger around the area of the Shady Marshes. But he didn't seem to know of anything important in that region.
“That's where the tomb of Sheyla is,” Blair said.
His words hung in the air. Why would Durian have wanted to go back there? And what had he meant by a long overdue visit? Estrien glanced to Aravas for counsel. His gaze was distant and his brow furrowed as he ran his own finger across the Shady Marshes, where the tomb of King Euthor's wife, Sheyla, lie. Then he turned round toward the back of the tent, folding his arms and rubbing his chin in his hand. Estrien took a step toward him.
“What are you pondering?” Estrien inquired.
“I met a man once, long ago, in the First Age,” he replied. “It was a chance encounter, for the Keepers of the Wind rarely meddled in the affairs of men. But there was something about him, a despondency that hearkened me to him to come to his comfort. The man was riddled with grief from unrequited love. He was in love with a simple farm girl, whom he'd thought loved him back. But another man sought her hand also. I told him not to worry, that if she truly loved him, he would win her heart in the end. He thanked me for my care and said he greatly valued my guidance, something the young man Durian also said before his departure.”
“I don't understand,” Estrien replied. “What are you saying?”
“That man whom I met was named Madrigan. He would later be called Corcoran. The young farm girl whom he loved was named Sheyla.”
Estrien's eyes went wide. Why had he never spoken of this? Was Aravas really telling them that once, long ago, Corcoran, the enemy of the free world, was in love with the same woman King Euthor would later marry? It was almost unbelievable. Even more than that, was he really implying that Durian had been taken over by the spirit of Corcoran? Was such a thing even possible?
“It can't be,” Estrien said.
“Ordinarily, I would agree with you,” Aravas replied. “But the realities surrounding King Euthor and Corcoran are anything but ordinary. Somehow, beyond our knowledge, Corcoran has tied his spirit to the Banished Lands, sustaining himself against death for a dozen centuries. And likewise, the spirit of King Euthor seems also to be present, aiding us at just the right times in our struggle. If Corcoran has found the means to tie his spirit to the heart of his continent, could not those same means be used to tether himself elsewhere? To another person, perhaps?”
Estrien's mind was racing. Though it didn't seem possible, what Aravas had suggested was the only thing that explained Durian's actions and what he'd meant by a long overdue visit.
“It's the Soul Stone, isn't it?” Blair broke in. “When we were first in Thay Iphilus Forest, Pallin told us a piece of it had been broken off long ago. What if Corcoran took it and that's how he's able to tie his spirit to different places?”
Estrien was struck by the notion, recalling to mind the Night Wanderers tied to Thay Iphilus Forest since the time of the Great War.
“What would he have to risk?” Aravas responded. “If we killed Durian, surely the spirit of Corcoran would be expelled back to the Banished Lands and Durian slain. In Corcoran's mind, he's gotten the chance to walk freely among us as one of us. He could never have fathomed that King Euthor has given us the means to trap him. For that, I believe, is why he left us the sands of the island.”
Estrien couldn't believe her ears. If Aravas was right, they had the chance to stop this war before it ever started. Estrien turned her eyes to Blair.
“If we could get Durian back here, do you think you could build a structure to trap him?”
Blair seemed shocked at the question.
“You're talking about killing my friend. You realize that, don't you?”
“Do we have another choice? We can't just let him roam freely. This might be our only chance.”
Blair clenched his jaw and hunched over against the table. He squeezed it tightly in his hands.
“I don't know if I can do it alone,” Blair concluded. “I might need Baron. I can render lesser forms of Shade Stone from the sands left for us by King Euthor but I have yet to make stone that's truly indestructible.”
His words hung in the air. They needed to find Baron.
Reconstruction
Baron awoke with the dawn, having gone to bed early, the thought of sleep in a warm bed too enticing to deny after such long days of travel. He awoke feeling refreshed, though confused a bit as he blinked open his eyes to the sights of his old room. But then, like a wave, thoughts of Ariadra washed over him again.
His mind kept replaying the events of the last time he'd seen her in the forest, wondering if there was something more he could've said or done. But it was too late. Still, there was a small part of him that was thankful for their encounter. It was only because of Ariadra that he thought to come to Suriya. And seeing the state of things, he was excited for all the good he'd be able to do. It was the first happy thought he'd had since the forest.
He arose before his mother and father, which brought a smile, for it was the first time in his recollection that that had actually happened. The embers were gray on the hearthstone, and using a nearby stick, he searched for a hidden life. With a bit of prodding and some added kindling, a small fire came into glow before him.
A chill clung fiercely to the air, and a faint draft sent a chill down the back of his neck. Baron came to the southern wall of the house, which took the brunt of the icy wind sweeping up from Boreol Bay. He ran his hand along it, feeling for cool flows of air. The wall was well built but not perfectly sealed, and Baron's mother had stuffed bits of hay in various cracks, doing her best to combat the frigid wind. Baron found the offending crack in the wall and placed his palm over it. The rocks began to faintly swirl together and became like clay in his hands. But he was careful not to exert too much of his ability or the wall could very well collapse under its own weight.
It was good for him to practice now, in his own home. Repairing buildings was something foreign that he hadn't much experience with. It would be easier to knock them down and start from scratch, but the inhabitants wouldn't take kindly to him demolishing what little had survived the war. So he had to work carefully, repairing the damage without collapsing the building under its own weight.
It was tricky work, but Baron could manipulate a stone in such a way as to keep it strong enough to bear a load, but pliable enough to bend to his will. It was a subtle art, but he was slowly mastering it. The rebuilding of Suriya would actually grow his skill in his Builder's craft.
Repairing the first of the cracks, he went to work on the rest of the southern wall of his home. He found it best to look for the largest stone in an area and plunge his hands into it, softening it just enough for the smaller stones around it to begin sinking into it. Then sealing it once more, the entire area became airtight. It took only a few minutes for him to effectively seal the entire southern wall of his family home.
He stood there, quite pleased with his work, when his mother emerged, smiling to see the fire already going, and though it took her a moment of gazing at the wall alongside Baron, she noticed that it had changed. Coming over to it, she ran her hand along it, seeing how the stones had literally melded together, the entire wall becoming almost a single stone.
“How...”
But Baron only smiled at her. Her gaze became distant, as though she struggled to recall the details of a half forgotten dream. The ways of the old world weren't commonly known in Suriya. They'd heard fables from time to time and Durian had had his book, Tales of the Prosperous Age, which he often brought around. But Suriyans paid little mind to such tales. She turned again to Baron with a troubled look on her face, which made him chuckle.
“Now you know why they wouldn't let both Blair and me leave.”
Marin didn't know what to say.
“Breakfast?” was the only word that awkwardly came from her mouth.
“Yes, please,” he laughed.
Baron came and added wood to the growing fire, sitting and staring into the wisps of flame as his mother prepared food in the kitchen. His father arose as well, ready to meet the day. Baron gazed into the flame and all his thoughts turned back toward Ariadra. Any idle moment brought the pounding of heartache to his chest. And so he arose, turning toward the kitchen to see if he could aid his mother. But she was just then coming toward him with a plate of eggs and sausage.
“What is it sweetheart?” she asked, putting the plate down on the small table by the fire.
“It's nothing,” he replied with his best smile.
“Nothing didn't send you all the way home.”
Baron paused.
“I was worried about you and father, after the attack. My um...my friend lost her mother after the battle for her city left it battered. Her city was hit with a plague and an early winter. I was worried something similar happened here, so I came home. I knew I could do some good here.”
Baron's mother smiled warmly at his concern. But he could see in her eyes that she discerned something deeper lying below the surface of his words. But she didn't press him on it.
“I won't lie and say it's been easy,” Marin replied. “But we've managed.”
Baron was glad for her declaration. He ate his meal quickly and brought the plate to the kitchen.
“I better get to it.”
Then he stepped out into the chilly morning air, clad in his favorite winter coat. But unfortunately for him, he wouldn't be able to use his Builder ability from the comfort of a warm pair of gloves. It would be bare skin against freezing stone. Baron set off toward the Market Town square, rounding a corner and arriving at the main road, where the first building he encountered had a gaping hole ripped from its corner, teetering as though it would fall any moment. The home was dark and desolate, with no one daring to live there.
This was as good as any place to start. Baron came over to the building, analyzing it a moment. There were chunks of rock strewn about and he grabbed one, shoving it into place in the gap, but filling only a small part of the hole. Though there were few townsfolk yet stirring, he could see one or two of them take notice of his strange behavior.
Baron became suddenly self-conscious and embarrassed, which struck him, because he had never felt that way before. He'd always been one to show off, unafraid of making a spectacle of himself. But now that he actually had something worthy to show, he was surprisingly timid about it.
Baron chuckled and took off his gloves, watching the rock swirl under his touch and conform to the jagged rock below, creating a flat surface and blending all the surrounding stone together. He heard murmuring from behind but ignored it, taking more of the loose rubble and continuing to fill the gap.
More and more townspeople were stopping in wonderment as they passed by, disbelieving what their eyes were sh
owing them. Baron's hands grew quickly numb and he put on his gloves for a minute, analyzing how best to finish his work. For the building was slightly cocked and leaning to one side. He could fill in the gap but he didn't know how to prop it back up. That might be impossible without help.
Returning to his work, he filled nearly the whole gap until his efforts ran him out of rubble to work with. He'd used every loose chunk of rock about his feet, and as he turned round to seek for more, he noticed that a quite a large crowd had gathered to watch him. Baron was struck dumb, not knowing what to tell them. There wasn't a short explanation and the people all looked quite wary of him.
“Isn't that the silversmith's son?” he heard from one in the crowd.
They had no way of comprehending how a simple Suriyan was now in possession of such powers, and the way they looked at him made him blush bright red. Baron had never been in such a situation. He marveled at the fact that dressing up as a mermaid and parading himself in front of a laughing crowd was nothing compared to what he now felt. He was speechless, which made his heart pound, desperate for something to tell them to make them stop looking at him like they were!
But he came up short and resigned himself to just keep working. And just as he turned to face the wall, a small child stepped forward toward Baron. He saw the crowd grow tense and he himself straightened his posture, not knowing what the child wanted. But as he came up Baron, the child revealed an object held in his small mittens. It was a round stone and he held it up to Baron.
Baron smiled and laughed, thanking the small boy and taking his offering to the gap in the wall. The mood of the crowd at last lightened, much to Baron's relief. Some of them departed on their business, though most remained. One man actually stepped forward to lend a hand, carrying a rock and holding it in place for Baron.
“Thank you,” Baron said.
“Figured I could make myself useful.”
Baron placed his hands on the rock the young man held in place for him. It began to faintly swirl. The young man's face showed wonderment as the rock turned to the consistency of clay within his own hands as he still held it for Baron. But the rock began to conform under its own weight to the surrounding stone, and as Baron removed his hands from it, the pliable consistency instantly turned back to hardened stone.