The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  Ariadra blushed and Baron was filled with an inexplicable rush of feeling. It was a strange thing – the longing to be fully known by another person, and yet, at the same time, the joy of still finding ways to surprise them. Baron had never known he could feel such a manifold array of emotions, which only seemed to deepen since the wedding.

  Just then, one of the soldiers in front of them broke formation, galloping westward. On the air, Baron could hear the distant sounds of something he hadn't noticed until now. It was like the sound of distant rushing water, or perhaps the trampling of hooves. Baron clenched the reins of his horse tightly, pulling in closer to Ariadra.

  What would Baron do if they were ambushed? Would he join in the fight or speed away with Ariadra? He didn't want to find out. But the soldier returned in short order and fell back into line. Baron glanced to Ariadra with a sigh and she gave him a warm and reassuring smile.

  They passed Echlin and Emri at a distance the first two days, spending their days and nights in the open plains. Though far less hospitable than a nice inn, it was safer. If forces out there really did mean them harm, they'd be much easier targets amid the hustle and bustle of town.

  But as they passed by Ilich, the last Forthurian village before the barbarian kingdom, Baron hesitated.

  “What is it?” Ariadra asked.

  “I wanted to introduce you to the family whose inn I stayed at. It's people like that we're fighting this war for.”

  “I'll take you up on that,” Ariadra replied with a smile. “When this war is over, we'll go everywhere together.”

  Baron only nodded slowly. The escort ahead stalled and began to turn, wondering at Baron's sudden stop. But Baron set off again, Ariadra catching up beside him. From here, their course turned northwest, away from Eulsiphion and toward the sweeping deserts of the barbarian kingdom.

  It was such a strange thing to enter their lands without fear – Forthura's long dreaded adversary reduced nearly to the history books. One day the Horctura would rise again to power. But it could take many decades. Forthura would enjoy a time of peace and prosperity.

  Baron was glad for it. There was still so much rebuilding to be done. Baron had hoped to be a part of it. He and Ariadra had completely restored Suriya in a matter of weeks. Baron wanted to build and restore what was broken. But he was going to war, where he would help to destroy.

  Why was Sheabor having them meet at the tomb of Sheyla? It didn't make sense. Was there something more there they had missed the first time? Why not just send them to Eulsiphion, where Baron had first purposed to go before changing course to Suriya? Baron didn't like that Sheabor was placing his new bride in danger like this, riding through the open country of the Horctura.

  “Hey,” said Ariadra from beside him breaking him away from his brooding.

  Baron turned in surprise, registering at last that she must have long watched him.

  “I'm sorry,” Baron said. “But you know where we are, right? What if a random patrol of barbarians finds us?”

  “Convoys have been passing for months without incident between Eulsiphion and the alliance city.”

  Baron nodded slowly.

  “I'm happy you're so concerned though. It's romantic.”

  “Romantic!” Baron said with a wide smile. “This is hardly the honeymoon I had hoped to give you.”

  “But we're together,” she replied. “Remember how lucky we are just for that.”

  Baron breathed in deep and sighed. She was right and Baron had made a vow not to let his misgivings spoil the joy of the moments speeding past.

  “I'm sorry,” Baron said at length.

  “It's okay. It would've been wonderful to stay longer with your family. I'd have loved to visit the Shelengol Glades with you in springtime, wandering beneath trees with woven hands. But your destiny is bigger than that and a lot of people are depending on us.”

  Baron nodded, summoning his resolve and turning his eyes to gaze into hers.

  “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

  A slow smile grew on her face.

  “Let's not find out.”

  Baron laughed.

  “Deal.”

  Ariadra laughed and leaned in close, resting her head on his shoulder. The two horses grunted and whinnied at each other, unaccustomed to riding so close. Baron and Ariadra smiled at the exchange, unsure whether the horses were showing affection or annoyance.

  The day passed without incident into night, and when they arose the next morning, the leader of the convoy declared they hoped to arrive by the end of the day. Baron hoped so as well. If they arrived in time, they'd be able to share the sunset together.

  The next day was much like the previous, but by late afternoon, the landscape grew familiar to Baron. It was a strange place, a low-lying marshy area in the middle of the open plains. Baron hadn't thought he'd see this place again. He remembered back to when they first came here, how amazed they were to find the beautiful, sleeping form of Sheyla encased in clear crystal, as beautiful as the day she died.

  Cresting a small hill, the rock resembling a large, armored loaf of bread came into view. It seemed so out of place, a lone, huge boulder in the middle of the sweeping plains. In context, it seemed obvious it wasn't a natural formation. But to those who followed the Great War, who knew little of what had happened before, it was just another rock in the middle of nowhere.

  The sun was already beginning to set in the west and Baron was worried they might not make it in time for the sunset. But more pressing matters came to mind. Baron looked for signs of Sheabor or the others but saw nothing. He and Ariadra must've gotten here first. That was unexpected. How long until the rest arrived?

  “That rock there was built by King Euthor,” Baron said.

  “Really?” she said in surprise. “Why?”

  Baron smiled. A rock in the middle of nowhere did seem an odd gift.

  “He made it for Sheyla, so they could watch the sunsets together. This was her favorite spot in all the kingdom.”

  Ariadra sighed emphatically at the romantic gesture and Baron chuckled.

  “The sunsets here are supposed to be the best in the whole world. If we hurry, we can catch it. Come on!”

  Baron sped forward on his horse, followed closely by Ariadra, riding past the convoy leader, whose alarm was evident.

  “We're not going far,” Baron yelled as he passed close by.

  Descending the hill and into the marshy ground, he slowed, fearing that his horse would stumble, and dismounted, coming to Ariadra and helping her dismount as well. Then, hand in hand, they raced through the boggy tall grass toward the rock. Already the sky had deepened to an orangy red and they trudged through murky water to get to the base of the rock.

  But as they reached it, Baron found the hidden staircase leading up and the two darted up, sitting side by side as the glowing orb of the sun, dripping with color, fell below the far horizon. As Ariadra laid her head on Baron's shoulder, gazing at the world in all its array of beauty, he was struck by the thought that these might be among the best moments of his life. But another thought came to mind just as the sun vanished.

  “Quick!” Baron said, bursting up. “I want to show you something before we lose the light.”

  Bringing Ariadra by the hand down the stairs, they arrived at the murky base of the stone. His first inclination was to enter the same manner they had done before. But the thought of plunging into chilly waters at sunset was more than he could bear.

  So pressing his palms on the side of the stone, he pulled the stone apart like a curtain, creating an opening. Ariadra gave an impressed smile and Baron motioned for her to enter first.

  “Such a gentleman,” she commented.

  “And don't you forget it.”

  Ariadra climbed into the small cavern, followed by Baron. A single shaft of light from the ceiling shone down on the sepulcher of Sheyla, and Ariadra approached it as Baron climbed inside. But as he did, he noticed something, a string running along the f
loor. Following it with his eyes, he caught sight of something terrible in the corner.

  “Wait!” Baron yelled and rushed forward.

  But her foot caught hold of the string and Baron heard the snap of a bowstring. One arrow flew past his face, striking the far wall. But another sent searing pain into his side, knocking him to the ground and tumbling down into the waters.

  The waters enveloped him, and as his limbs flailed to reach the surface, they struck the arrow protruding from his side. It sent a wave of pain that nearly knocked him unconscious. But thoughts of Ariadra kept his mind awake.

  Struggling to stand to his feet, he emerged from the waters, glancing down to see an arrow clean through his side. Though the pain was immense, it wasn't mortal. Baron didn't see Ariadra.

  He rushed forward, ignoring the pain and pulling himself once more into the opening. Ariadra was lying on the ground on her side, an arrow in her chest. Rushing forward, he grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “Ariadra!” he yelled.

  “Baron,” she managed.

  The light was dim and he could barely see. Finding the nearest wall, he struck it with his palm, sending a wave of force through it which blasted rock out the far end, lighting up the small cavern.

  Then, coming back to Ariadra, he took her in his arms. Blood covered his hands and Baron's mind went wild with desperation. Just then, the caravan leader appeared at the opening to the cavern.

  “Stay back!” Baron demanded.

  “Baron,” she struggled to say. “Please don't forget who you are. Please don't abandon your destiny.”

  “I can't do this without you. Please don't leave me. Please hold on.”

  A tear ran down her cheek as she began to lose consciousness. He knew it was for him, for the man he might become without her in his life.

  “Ariadra!”

  But she was fading away. Her eyes closed and Baron felt the last labored breath escape her lips. Baron squeezed her tightly to him, roaring as hot tears streamed down his face. Once more, the leader of the convoy appeared in view.

  “I told you to go!” Baron screamed, striking the ground, an explosive force shattering the stone in the man's direction, sending him backward into the water. Baron turned his attentions back to Ariadra, cradling her lifeless form still in his arms.

  How had this happened? It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Why hadn't King Euthor warned them? How could he have let this happen? Baron's head swam and he felt sounds blur, about to lose consciousness but he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and took a deep breath.

  Emerging from the cavern, he met the small band of soldiers, now stationed just outside, wondering what in the world had happened. Seeing Baron with an arrow in his side and covered in blood made their eyes go wide.

  “But you need medical attention.”

  “I'm not going anywhere. I'm waiting for Sheabor. Your mission is over. Go back to Eulsiphion.”

  The soldiers hesitated, sending a wave of anger through Baron. Slapping his palm on the side of the wall, an explosion of bits of stone flew toward the men sitting on horseback, startling the horses who reared up on hind legs. With great reluctance, the convoy leader mounted his horse and commanded his men to depart.

  Baron returned to Ariadra, taking her again in his arms. It struck Baron then, through his despair, how similar a scene this was to the one in the poem on Sheabor's hammer. He too, found his beloved wife struck down by an arrow in a field. Was that what King Euthor was trying to do, let others feel his same pain? The thought enraged Baron.

  “Why didn't you warn me?” Baron screamed to the empty room.

  But no reply came and Baron realized in despair that his greatest fear had come true. Time stretched on and all his thoughts became a blur. He sat upon the cold hard floor with her throughout the night until the glow of dawn appeared.

  The single shaft of sunlight shone down again atop the stone coffin of Sheyla, and the mellow glow of day streamed into the gaping holes of the cavern. Baron saw for the first time that he was covered in blood.

  Ariadra's fair cheeks were white now and cold, and Baron couldn't stand to look at her this way. Removing the arrow from her, he picked up her body and carried her to the sepulcher of Sheyla. Placing his palms on the clear crystal, he watched it turn to liquid before him, plunging his hands down toward the form of Sheyla.

  Then, moving her over to one side, he took the body of Ariadra and placed her down inside next to Sheyla. Sheabor would see what he had caused, would be forced to live with the knowledge that his own command had murdered Baron's wife.

  Ariadra floated slowly down in the liquid crystal, coming to rest beside the bride of King Euthor. As his hands hovered in the liquid crystal, he reached down, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek one last time. He took the pendant he had fashioned for her, scooping it out of the crystal that solidified into stone. He stared down at it for long moments fighting the urge to fall apart.

  Then, turning his gaze to Sheyla, he pounded his fists against the clear crystal. Now at last, Baron knew what kind of man King Euthor was, how little he cared for who would be sacrificed.

  “You should be happy you died when you did,” Baron said to Sheyla.

  Then he wept bitterly over the coffin.

  Acts of Sacrifice

  Pallin fled through the trees of the darkening forest, his mind pounding with anxiety and confusion. Behind him, the roaring laughter of Corcoran filled the evening air. Pallin came to a large tree a stone's throw from Seriah and turned.

  Seriah still stood poised for battle against the creature of lava and stone. He would never win such a fight. But maybe he could draw Corcoran off while Pallin went back to the tomb to retrieve the orb. Seriah had commanded him to flee, but where was there to could go? Without the orb, it didn't matter if Pallin lived or died.

  As Seriah stood there, the form of Corcoran grew even taller, overshadowing him now by many feet. He swung a stony arm at Seriah's head, which Seriah ducked. Another blow came for his body, but he met it mid-swing with the mace, shattering the stone and sending pieces of stone and lava down to the forest floor.

  With the weapon of King Euthor, Seriah might actually stand a chance. He went on the offensive, swinging at the leg of Corcoran and smashing it. The molten form stumbled with a roar. Seriah ducked another blow and struck Corcoran squarely in the chest, knocking him backward to the ground.

  Then Seriah turned, striking the wall of the mountain with a flurry of blows. He was trying to open the cavern for Pallin. Pallin gripped the tree tightly. He didn't know what to do. Should he go to Seriah, entering the tomb while he battled Corcoran?

  But the molten form of Corcoran arose from the ground. As it did, Seriah finally broke through to the inside of the tomb. It was a small gap but enough for a person to crawl through. Then he turned again to face the monster.

  With a yell, Seriah lunged for Corcoran with the mace. But before he reached him, rock exploded away from the monster's chest, knocking Seriah backward with a thud. He lay there a moment, breathless, unable to rise.

  Corcoran approached him. Seriah pushed himself up, shaking his head, and ducked another swing, but was clearly still dazed. He managed to smash the shoulder of Corcoran with a quick strike, but caught the back of his other arm, which sent him sailing through the air, hitting a tree and falling to the ground, unmoving.

  Corcoran didn't pursue him but seemed to listen to the sounds of the forest. Pallin ducked behind the broad tree, heaving deep breaths of damp forest air. What was he going to do? He needed to know if Seriah was alive. But surely Corcoran had left him there as bait for Pallin.

  His heart was racing. He couldn't just stand here. Corcoran could, even now, be inside the tomb of King Euthor. Pallin glanced around the tree toward the tomb. It lay vacant with no sign of Corcoran. Pallin wanted to run straight for it but he couldn't force himself to move.

  “Where are you, Windbearer?” a voice called through the trees. “You don't have to die. You can
join me as your brother, Malfur, did.”

  The voice seemed obscured by the trees. Pallin couldn't tell what direction it came from. He leaned out around the tree toward the still vacant tomb. But he felt the sensation again from behind, of heat and a mellow glow. Turning, the form of Corcoran was rising up just behind him.

  Pallin fled through the open woodland, working to calm his desperate thoughts. How would he enter the tomb of Euthor before Corcoran? It seemed hopeless.

  “How long must we keep this up, Windbearer?” the voice came again.

  Pallin came to rest at another tree, trying not to lose his bearings and desperate to formulate a plan. His only advantage was the arrogance of Corcoran. He could've abandoned his search for Pallin and gone straight into the tomb. But he chose to taunt Pallin instead.

  Darkness fully took hold of the forest, diminishing his view. Corcoran could be watching him even now, his spirit hovering through the forest. No one really knew what kind of being Corcoran was now. But for his ability to take physical form, he was like the Night Wanderers, a spirit tied by the Soul Stone to the earth.

  Pallin crept back in the direction of the tomb. The forest was deathly quiet. Even the animals seemed to have fled before the monstrous form of Corcoran. But as he went, the ground beneath his feet suddenly turned spongy and soft, making him stumble.

  He pushed himself up, and when he pulled his foot from the earth, a rocky hand grabbed hold of it. Pallin struggled to no avail, grasping about for anything to pull himself away. But the arm dragged him powerfully backward, releasing his leg and grabbing him around the throat, the hot stone scalding his skin.

  Then he felt his body being pulled upward as the form of Corcoran rose from the ground. Soon, he was hanging in midair, the malevolent rock monster spewing hot air over his face. Pallin struggled but nothing could free him from the iron grip of Corcoran.

  Then Corcoran thrust him from his hand, throwing him like a child's toy to the damp ground. Pallin landed hard, the wind knocked from his lungs. Crashing footsteps approached from behind.