The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  “Let's say for the moment that this is an opportunity to strike and not a trap. What would cause Corcoran to act this way?”

  The commander only shook his head slowly.

  “We've been at a loss, though we've used the time to further fortify our own positions.”

  Estrien began to pace back and forth. What in the world was Corcoran up to? Had something happened on the Banished Lands to draw his focus?

  “What about your forces still on the Banished Lands?” Estrien asked. “Is it possible they're giving him so much trouble that he's had to redouble his efforts there?”

  “That's highly unlikely,” he responded. “The bulk of our forces is here, aiding the coalition to stop the advancement of Corcoran onto the Eastern Realm. We left only a tenth of our fighters on the Banished Lands.”

  “But what about your families back home?” Estrien asked. “Aren't they in danger?”

  “For better or worse, we've chosen to stand with the Eastern Realm. We've sent our families into deep hiding. It's possible Corcoran is using his forces to ferret them out and attack them while we're here – I wouldn't put it past him to act so low – but it doesn't seem like him. Something else is going on.”

  Estrien thought for long moments. Though she didn't have much experience with Corcoran, she had met him face to face through the person of Durian. But thinking of Durian brought a sudden remembrance to mind. Durian had told them that Corcoran had ordered a full scale search of the area where Durian had been found.

  “Corcoran must be searching for Pallin,” she said.

  “Pallin the Windbearer?”

  “Yes. He and a companion set off some months ago to the Banished Lands to find the tomb of King Euthor. His companion was overtaken by Corcoran who may or may not have learned about Pallin's mission. That would be just about when the convoys suddenly stopped crossing the divide. Corcoran must be using all his forces still on the Banished Lands to find the tomb before Pallin does.”

  “What happens if he finds the tomb before Pallin?”

  “He'll gain control of the powers of the Windbearers.”

  The commander was shocked.

  “We'd have no hope of winning this war.”

  “That's why we have to do whatever we can to help Pallin.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “We turn Corcoran's eye back to the Eastern Realm by striking a fatal blow at his strongholds here.”

  The commander nodded slowly.

  “But what if we're wrong?” he asked. “What if it's really a trap?”

  “It's a risk we have to take. The time for caution and half-measures is over, Commander. If we hit the strongholds with everything we've got, not only can we drive him back to the sea, but we may give Pallin the time he needs to find the tomb first. Do we have enough forces to attack all three forts at once?”

  The commander was surprised at the bold request.

  “We'd have to call in all our coalition forces, leaving the outlying villages of Kester vulnerable. And even then, I'm not sure it would be enough.”

  “Summon them,” Estrien commanded.

  The commander hesitated.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “We each have our own mission. What you're asking is for us to abandon ours to serve yours. The resistance and the coalition have been ordered to contain Corcoran's advance. If we commit all our forces to this attack and fail, we're losing more than just a battle. We'll lose any hope of keeping Corcoran's siege weapons at bay.”

  “But if we do nothing, he'll ultimately bring them across anyway. As long as any one of his strongholds remains, he can defend his ships crossing the divide. Corcoran is vulnerable now, and he may not be for much longer. This is our best chance for victory. Both for us and for Pallin.”

  The commander nodded and then smiled to himself.

  “What is it?”

  “Straiah warned us about you,” he said, his smile widening even further.

  “I'll take that as a compliment,” Estrien replied.

  “You should.”

  “At least send word to Gwaren and Drogan, telling them we wish to meet. We'll leave the decision up to everyone.”

  The commander bowed in assent. Then Estrien turned to leave.

  “There's something else you should know,” the commander said as she began walking away. “Before leaving for the alliance city, Straiah was gone nearly a week on what he called a scouting mission. We don't know what he was looking for but he said that something had troubled him about the military convoys of Corcoran coming to shore. All I know is that he set off south without saying where he was going. If he discovered anything there, he didn't share it with us.”

  Estrien's gaze grew distant and she gazed down at the woven map on the table. There was nothing south of their position. Only Thob Forest hundreds of leagues away. What had Straiah been looking for? And had he found anything? They would know soon enough.

  The Wedding

  Baron stood at the edge of the open plains, the town of Suriya at his back. Gazing outward, the pasturelands were newly clothed in springtime green. Very few were stirring this early hour. And though his wedding was later today, his mind was fixed elsewhere. Something had struck him powerfully these last few days that he hadn't given thought to until now.

  What kind of man was King Euthor, really? It was clear now that Baron had been chosen by him – not only him but Blair and Durian as well. It couldn't be coincidence that three simple villagers from Suriya could each have such an important role in the coming struggle by accident.

  The alliance seemed so desperate to fully unlock King Euthor's plan, they never really stopped to consider whether or not they should be following his plan. On the outside, King Euthor seemed a benevolent ruler, sacrificing himself for those he would never meet, those who would again face Corcoran. King Euthor had spent all his remaining days in preparation so that those who would follow could have a chance to stand against him.

  It seemed that all his motives were just and selfless. But what if it wasn't benevolence that motivated him? What if it was revenge? What if King Euthor had glimpsed into the future and couldn't bear the thought of his wife's murderer sitting on his own throne and in his own castle?

  What if King Euthor had grown cold and callused in the latter days, careless of who would die in the struggle against Corcoran...expecting his followers to make the same sacrifice he did? Baron needed to know what kind of man had chosen him...what kind of man they were all blindly trusting.

  As he remained lost in thought, he was surprised to find someone wander up beside him. It was Ariadra. For long moments, she said nothing – gazing with him outward over the plains. But at length, she turned to him, her countenance troubled.

  “Baron, I need to know what's going on with you,” she said. “You've been distant. I know that men often get cold feet before their wedding. If it's too soon, we can wait for a better time. I don't want you to feel pressured because I told your parents we would have our wedding in Suriya.”

  She turned her eyes to the ground and Baron felt a streak of guilt at how misguided her worries were. He smiled warmly, lifting her chin to meet his gaze.

  “I can't wait to be married to you.”

  She nodded amid a tearful smile.

  “Then what is it?” she asked.

  “I've just been concerned for the future,” he said, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “It's just, once we go back, we'll be the most hunted people in the alliance. Corcoran did everything he could to try and capture Blair and me when we had only barely finished our training. Once he finds out about your ability also...I'm just not sure Sheabor can protect us. I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

  Ariadra took his hands in hers.

  “Everything's going to work out.”

  Baron took her hands and nodded slowly. But then he clenched his jaw.

  “They worry me, is all,” Baron said at length.

  “Who?”


  “Sheabor and King Euthor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Blair had a vision in the Illian city of Sheyla coming to King Euthor to tell him she was going to the outlying townships to address the reports of the creeping darkness growing in the west. It should have been him to go but he was bogged down in duty. So she went in his stead and she never returned. And now, Sheabor's wife is trapped in a dungeon on the Banished Lands while he's here doing his duty.”

  “That isn't fair,” Ariadra said.

  “Isn't it? We're following two men both duty-bound to sacrifice whatever it takes to win this war. But I can't do it. If it comes to it – you or the fate of the alliance – I'll choose you. I know I will. The thought of losing you terrifies me more than the wrath of Corcoran's armies.”

  Her eyes misted with tears and she squeezed his hands tightly.

  “I know,” she said. “But you can't live with that kind of fear over your head. We have to do what's right, no matter what could happen.”

  “I can't help it,” he replied. “Maybe that makes me a coward. I don't know.”

  “I wouldn't be in love with a coward,” she replied. “You're the man who left everything to come rescue me in Ogrindal. That's the man I'm choosing.”

  Baron felt a mist enter his own eyes and nodded, hoping her words were true.

  “Let's go get married,” she said, taking his hands in hers and leading him back to the city.

  Baron was surprised by how quickly his troubles melted away. She had such a power over him, one he had never before experienced. He was marrying the girl of his dreams. And while the future still terrified him, Ariadra was right. To miss out on the joy of the moment for fear of what the future may hold was pitiable. So Baron made a conscious choice to hope for the best.

  The town of Suriya was unusually quiet. Though it was early, none of the usual characters Baron would see on his morning walks were out and about. The whole town really had paused to come to the wedding. But as they approached the center of town, Baron stopped.

  “I have some things to take care of,” Baron declared.

  “What things?”

  But Baron only smiled wide.

  “You'll see.”

  Then Baron departed back in the direction they'd just come. Reaching the open plains, he set off northward, jogging a few minutes until coming to his destination. Baron had erected an entire stone pavilion in the middle of the plains, surrounded with pillars adorned by wildflowers. At the entrance to the pavilion were a series of ornate archways, forming a walkway for the bride. These too were dripping with the colors of spring and the stone, a beautiful white with blue swirls, provided the perfect contrast to the yellows and oranges of the flowers.

  It was quite a marvel to behold. Seeing it in all its finery, Baron chuckled to himself that he really owed the beauty of his creation to the architect in the alliance city. Baron did his best to keep his activities here to himself.

  Ariadra was under the notion they'd be married in the town hall. Baron had fostered her deception by having Jaden and his other friends pretend to decorate it and make it ready for a wedding. But Ariadra was from Ogrindal. Their weddings were always in the forest. Baron had secretly consigned the help of his mother, who asked Ariadra innocent questions about what weddings were like in Ogrindal when Baron wasn't around.

  Weddings in Ogrindal were set in an open glen on a small hill facing westward some distance from the Ruhkan Mountains. The wedding always took place in the evening, while the sun was setting behind the mountain peaks, a symbol that the ones being joined would stay together until the setting of their own lives.

  There was a large pile of stone lying at the edge of the pavilion. Baron had in mind to fashion miniature mountains westward against the sunset. But now, standing here in front of it, he second guessed himself. It was a goofy gesture. None of his fellow Suriyans would even understand its significance.

  But the stone was lying there, waiting to be fashioned into something. It was too late to change his mind. So he got to work, plumbing the depths of his memory to get the shape of the peaks just right. He had been here every afternoon, mapping the course of the sun, making sure it would set just where he wanted it to.

  After a few hours, he took a step back to inspect the finished project. It was nearly midday now, and the wedding was set for late afternoon. Baron had little time. So he set off through the plains toward his family home.

  Baron arrived the same time as his father, Orin, clad in his blacksmithing apron. He had just come from a full morning of work. Baron felt a sudden guilt, knowing how much work was on his father now that he and Blair were gone.

  “I'm sorry we just left the way we did,” Baron declared. “It was my fault. I pushed Blair into it.”

  Orin nodded slowly.

  “I won't lie and say it was easy – especially not knowing if you and your brother were alive. But the way it's all turned out, I wouldn't change a thing.”

  Baron felt a swell of pride. His father was a soft-spoken man, but Baron admired him greatly. Orin sacrificed willingly, without ever a need for recognition.

  “What say we get cleaned up,” Orin said, placing his arm around his son and entering their family home.

  “My goodness,” came the voice of Marin. “Look at the filth on the two of you.”

  Baron laughed and stretched out his arms, walking to give his mother a hug, who was already wearing her best wedding attire.

  “Stay back!” she demanded.

  Baron took another few steps but relented and went to the washroom instead. Orin came over to his wife, chuckling and taking her hands in his.

  “I've always said that boy will be the end of you.”

  But as Baron disappeared into the other room, Marin's gaze grew troubled.

  “Still no sign of Blair?” she asked.

  Orin shook his head.

  “That's a shame,” she said. “Poor girl doesn't have any family here. And Baron only has us.”

  “You've seen the way they are together,” Orin encouraged. “They could care less that anyone else existed. We're lucky to have been invited at all.”

  “I heard that,” said Baron from the other room.

  “And you know it's true!” Marin called back.

  Suddenly, Baron's head appeared through a newly formed hole in the wall. Marin gasped.

  “Don't think that you've ever had a private conversation in this home,” Baron said.

  “Put it back!” Marin demanded.

  Baron relented and reformed the wall just the way it had been, shaking his head and smiling at how much he enjoyed harassing his family. He recalled how sentimental it had made Ariadra the other day – how seeing Baron and his mother had made her miss her own family. It struck Baron suddenly that there was a war waging out there and if things went ill, he may never see his family again. It put all his joking to rest and he emerged slowly, out of sorts.

  “You're not remotely clean!” Marin said.

  “I know. It's just, I'll be leaving soon for good and I wanted to say how grateful I am to have been raised in this home. I owe you both a lot.”

  Marin turned to Orin with a tear in her eye and he smiled fondly at her.

  “We're very proud of you son,” Orin said.

  Baron smiled wide and returned to the washroom.

  “If you don't mind,” Marin called out. “I'm going to go see to Ariadra.”

  “Oh,” Baron said, popping his head out. “Before the wedding? What for?”

  Marin scowled, turning to Orin who seemed equally in the dark at her declaration.

  “What is wrong with men?” she demanded. “Poor dear must be missing her family terribly. She's probably alone right now, wishing her own mother were there to help her get ready.”

  Baron acknowledged the fact sheepishly.

  “You have a long road ahead of you,” Marin concluded.

  “Thank you, Mother,” Baron replied from back in the washroom.

/>   Marin departed and soon Baron had made himself ready for the biggest day of his life. It still felt like a dream. Only weeks ago, he'd been drowning his sorrows in a tavern telling stories of the alliance, thinking his life was over.

  But he needed to get to the pavilion before the rest arrived. So he labeled himself ready and set off for the plains. He arrived mid-afternoon, wandering the perimeter of his creation to make sure everything was perfect. Chairs had been brought and arranged all over the circular pavilion, and the flowery vines adorned each pillar of the walkway.

  Soon, he satisfied himself and came to the edge of the pavilion, gazing out over the sweeping plains. The rolling fields of Forthura clothed in wild grains and grasses were beautiful and tranquil, providing the honest man with a quiet, respectable life. Why did evil have to threaten such a simple existence? Why couldn't Baron and Ariadra grow old together in a quaint cottage, forgotten by the wide world?

  Baron marveled how he had dreamed as a younger man to leave Suriya and make a name for himself somewhere – seek heroic deeds and risk his life for fame and glory. Now he chuckled at such childish ambition. The grass is always greener on the other side.

  Baron heard footsteps approaching from behind. Turning, he found his friend Jaden, the best man in lieu of Blair and Durian's absence.

  “How's the town hall looking?” Baron asked.

  “Looks fit for a king. Ariadra will never suspect the wedding will happen elsewhere.”

  “Thank you,” Baron said, taking his hand.

  “You're welcome. Do you think any of your friends from the alliance will come?”

  “I don't even think they know we're here,” Baron replied.

  Jaden seemed struck by Baron's declaration. Baron had never really explained what had brought him to Suriya. And the unexpected arrival of Ariadra, though welcomed, didn't really add up in the light of what was happening in the outside world.

  Baron and Jaden took their positions and waited for the crowd to filter slowly in. For most, this was their first glimpse of Baron's creation. And though Baron had boasted a little of what he had learned from the architect during his rebuilding of Suriya, he harnessed all his skill and elegance for his wedding pavilion.