The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  “And Pallin?”

  Sheabor's countenance turned dark. If the orb was here, then Pallin was in grave danger.

  “Pallin is on the Banished Lands. We hope for his soon return.”

  But Sheabor turned to Durian in confusion.

  “I don't understand,” he said. “If the orb is here then that means King Euthor planned to send Pallin on a hopeless quest, knowing it would draw Corcoran's focus from the real truth. What if Corcoran finds King Euthor's tomb before Pallin does? How will Pallin escape?”

  Durian shook his head slowly. He honestly had no clue. He couldn't believe what had been waiting for them in this place. And finding King Taspian here confused him even more. If King Euthor really did plan to bring himself and Sheyla back to life, how in the world were they supposed to retrieve his body now that Corcoran would undoubtedly find his tomb also?

  Durian remembered the ferocity of Corcoran's hatred rising up as he learned from Durian's mind that King Euthor was helping them and had entombed himself on the Banished Lands. Pallin had no way of bringing King Euthor back to them and Durian knew that Corcoran wouldn't stop until he found the tomb also.

  “I have no idea what to think anymore,” Durian answered at length.

  The pair watched as the coffin of Sheyla was rolled to the end of the room, a half dozen men removing it and setting it in the position designed for it. It slid into place perfectly and those gathered watched in awe, none knowing what would happen next.

  All eyes fell upon Sheabor, who gazed at the Hammer of Haladrin now in his hands and the poem inscribed on its side. Was it really true that here, now, he and his companions would carry out the plan of King Euthor twelve hundred years in the making?

  Sheabor walked over and placed the hammer into the spot designed for it. At first, nothing happened. But then the glow of the Candlewood inside the Shade Stone head seemed to intensify, glowing steadily brighter until its golden gleam filled the room.

  And the crystal surrounding King Taspian seemed to liquefy, casting a light as when the sun shines from the surface of troubled waters. The walls of the cavern stretched away as a mist gathered all around them, obscuring their view. Gasps filled the fog from those gathered, something moving in the mist.

  But then, on the far side of the room, three glowing lights came together and hovered. The lights began to take shape in human form. It was a couple, holding hands, standing face to face with another woman. They appeared to be speaking to one another, but nothing could be heard.

  Thundering and flashes of light emanated from the mist. The crowd cowered but the three figures on the other end of the cavern seemed little concerned. Time seemed to halt, all watching breathlessly until the two figures turned to depart, walking a short distance and then disappearing completely into the mist.

  Only one remained and turned back toward the group, walking a short ways and then disappeared into a glowing ball of light. The gleaming orb passed by them amid gasps, back into the coffin of Sheyla.

  And slowly the mist subsided and the light and rumbling gave way to calm. The crystal in the stone coffin of Sheyla began to glow with the same watery gleam emanating from the crystal surrounding King Taspian. And as they watched, slowly, a person emerged from the glowing crystal.

  As Sheabor saw her, his mind spun in confusion. But then, suddenly, everything made sense – Pallin's quest, the powers of the Windbearers here in Eulsiphion and the final plan of King Euthor. The woman stepped toward them from the coffin but stopped with a pained look in her countenance, turning to Sheabor.

  “Please, tell me where my husband is.”

  Part 8

  Captive

  Baron awoke seated upright in a chair, his hands bound behind him. He was in the middle of a large room, whose floor was of roughly hewn stone, and whose walls were thick beams of wood. Twisting his hands did little against his bonds, but the motion caused a pain in his side, revealing to him that a bandage had been wrapped tightly around his torso. And his fever seemed to have subsided. Wherever he was, they had tended to his wounds. But he had no recollection.

  Glancing about, the room was mostly empty, with a fireplace on the far end and long woven standards hanging beneath high windows on the walls. He didn't recognize them. They weren't Forthurian. Perhaps he was somewhere in Kester. Turning his head to the other side of the room, he was startled to find that a young man stood idly against the other wall, watching him.

  Baron thought immediately to call for help in cutting his bonds. The young man didn't seem hostile. But something stalled him and he simply stared at him.

  “It was questionable there for awhile,” the young man spoke. “My healers weren't convinced they could bring you back. Not a very smart plan, I must say...wandering into the wastelands, wounded and ill-provisioned. It was lucky I've had my eye on you. Where exactly did you think you were going?”

  “Who are you?” Baron asked.

  “You don't know me?” the young man replied.

  “Should I?”

  “Why, I'm your enemy,” he said. “Don't you know the face of your oppressor?”

  Baron didn't know what to make of it. But as the young man stepped toward him, his eyes flashed red.

  “You're Corcoran!”

  The young man bowed low, arms stretched wide.

  “I'm going to kill you!” Baron growled, struggling fiercely against his bonds.

  The young man took another step forward but stopped, a hint of sorrow entering his countenance.

  “Because of the woman?”

  Baron's eyes filled with rage.

  “She was my wife! You took her from me!”

  “Not I,” Corcoran replied as though shocked Baron would blame him. “That arrow wasn't meant for her. It was not I who sent her blindly into that tomb.”

  Baron struggled to the point of exhaustion. At length, he calmed and took a deep breath.

  “Just save your breath and kill me,” Baron said.

  “By rights, I should kill you.”

  “Then do it. Stop talking and end it.”

  “Perhaps. But I believe better things are in store for you.”

  Baron's eyes narrowed.

  “Whatever you're offering, I'm not interested.”

  “You're a great danger to me, you know,” Corcoran continued. “Every moment you're alive threatens my existence. You're probably unaware, but while you were away, that brother of yours tried to trap me and nearly succeeded. They covered an entire room in Shade Stone to keep me in. And with your help, I'm afraid he would've succeeded. But I found a weakness as I always do and now here I stand.”

  Baron didn't know what to make of his story. It could all be a lie.

  “I'm only telling you this because I want you to understand what a sacrifice it is for me to let you live.”

  “You're a saint,” Baron replied.

  “I know you must hate me,” Corcoran replied. “And I'm sorry for that. But in time you'll come to see the truth.”

  “I don't care about your truth! I don't care about Sheabor's truth or anyone else's. I just want to be left alone!”

  Baron struggled against his bonds again to no avail. He wanted to rip through them and wring the neck of the man talking calmly by his side.

  “Baron, I know you can't accept it now, but we're very much the same, you and I. We each lost the one we loved, killed by a senseless arrow never meant to find them. The only difference is that in your case, the tragedy could have been prevented.”

  Baron's mind swam with rage. Corcoran, his own wife's murderer, was empathizing with him as though to comfort him. He wrestled ferociously until the searing pain in his side compelled him to stop.

  “How can you really blame me for your bride's death? King Euthor saw it happen twelve hundred years ago, did he not, yet did nothing to prevent it? Could he not have found a way to warn you? Believe me when I tell you Baron, I would never have set that arrow knowing it was an innocent woman to perish. Why do you follow a king who
wouldn't lift a finger to stop the one you love from dying?”

  “I don't follow him!” Baron yelled. “Haven't you been listening?”

  But Corcoran's point hit him deeply. Baron had been considering it much these last days. King Euthor had laid such intricate plans into motion for stopping the return of Corcoran. But why had he done nothing to warn them about the trap in the tomb of Sheyla? Baron felt tears of anger welling up in his eyes.

  “Just leave me alone,” he said, his gaze fixed on the floor.

  The young man didn't reply but hovered close by for many long moments.

  “I know it won't sound genuine. But I'm very sorry for your loss. And I know what you're going through. You don't have to face it alone.”

  Baron was nearly blind with anger.

  “You and I are nothing alike!” he screamed.

  The young man seemed pained by his response.

  “What a clever history they've invented for you to believe in. Have you ever questioned it? Or do you march dutifully to the beat of their drum like a good soldier? The real truth is that Sheyla was to be my wife, once upon a time. But Euthor, in his jealousy stole her from me, telling her I had abandoned her.

  They told you my people left peacefully from the Three Houses to find a land of our own to settle, didn't they? We indeed left peacefully because the alternative was death. We were banished. I myself was led captive to a distant land by Euthor's own personal guard, warned on penalty of death never to return. So ironic that you call my realm the Banished Lands. More accurate to call it the Land of the Banished.

  I can only imagine what Euthor told Sheyla after my departure. He made it seem as though I had abandoned her. I won't lie and say that Sheyla had no feelings for Euthor. She was torn between us. But she had promised herself to me. She was to be my queen in the land of Eskedrin, birthing a new house, where freedom and equality would rule.

  Why do you think Malfur joined my cause instead of Cavanah's? He knew the truth that the Three Houses were corrupt and decaying...that something new needed to be birthed through fire.”

  “I know you're lying,” Baron replied. “My brother saw a vision in the Illian city of Sheyla and King Euthor. He could see the love they shared and how it pained him that she should be the one to go to the outlying townships instead of him.”

  “He saw what Euthor wanted him to see. Nothing more. Why do you think she was so quick to come and find me, upon learning of my return? She would've told Euthor anything to steal away and see me.”

  “Then why did your men kill her?”

  “It may as well have been Euthor himself that killed her! She set herself against hopeless odds, desperate to get free. Who is to blame for that! He smothered her, locking her away in a dreary castle – she who always loved to walk the beauty of the wide world.”

  “I won't hear any more of this!”

  Corcoran took a deep breath and smiled cordially.

  “Fine. I know your world must feel like it's spinning out of control. So I'll make things simple for you. This war is largely over. I know about your friend's quest to retrieve the powers of the Windbearers. Why they ever thought they'd find the tomb of Euthor before me is beyond my comprehension.”

  Baron felt a flash of fear but he didn't show it. How did Corcoran know that Pallin and Durian were on a quest to find the tomb of King Euthor? Was Corcoran trying to read him for information? But he walked over and grabbed something, returning with it in his hand. Baron's eyes went wide at the sight of it. It was an orb of Shade Stone, identical to the one he'd seen in Eulsiphion. Corcoran held it out for Baron to examine, saying nothing but watching Baron closely.

  “You're trying to trick me,” Baron said. “I don't believe you.”

  “And this?” Corcoran replied, producing the staff of Pallin from behind his back.

  Baron's heart beat quickly. The staff he definitely recognized. He had seen it in intimate detail on more than one occasion. If Corcoran had managed to fake it, he had reproduced it exactly.

  “I want you to know that I offered him a chance to join me, just as his brother, Malfur did...the same offer I'm extending to you now.”

  “I'll never help you.”

  “I'm afraid you will. You're only speaking to me this way because you feel as though you have nothing more to lose. You are very wrong. Sheabor, in his selfishness, has made a well-protected fortress for himself. But he has done nothing to strengthen the many dozens of helpless villages easily in my reach. This includes your hometown.”

  Baron's heart was racing.

  “Why should your family die? They're no threat to me. Do you really believe Sheabor will come to their rescue should my forces attack? Could he even act in time?”

  Baron opened his mouth to reply but words were absent.

  “I'm sorry, Baron,” Corcoran continued. “I don't want to threaten you. I just haven't the time to wait for you to acknowledge the real truth.”

  “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “I need you to open this orb for me...not now of course, but in the proper time, once I've done away with the other Windbearers.”

  Baron was taken aback. Was Corcoran planning to take their powers for himself? Was that even possible?

  “I can't,” Baron replied. “I don't know how to manipulate Shade Stone. No one does. Not even Blair. Only King Euthor understood its true properties.”

  “I'm going to need you to find a way,” Corcoran replied. “Your family's life is at stake.”

  What in the world was Baron going to do? What Corcoran required of him was impossible. He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. In the end, Baron only nodded slowly. If he cooperated, maybe an opportunity would come for his escape. But Corcoran would be watching him closely.

  “Practice on this,” Corcoran said, dropping something down onto the table.

  It was a mace with a head of Shade Stone. Baron recognized it. It had come from the tomb of Sheyla. Pallin and Durian had brought it with them over the Ruhkan Mountains. If Corcoran had it, then it must have been true that Pallin and Durian had failed their mission. But if Pallin was dead, what about Durian?

  “Did you kill my friend?” Baron asked.

  Corcoran looked at him blankly.

  “My friend, Durian, who traveled with Pallin. Did you kill him?”

  “Ah yes, Durian. He was indeed slain but not by my hand. Your brother and the Melanorian woman, in their madness to try and trap me, trapped your friend instead, surely killing him. He died alone in the dark at the hands of your so called friends.”

  Baron clenched his jaw. He didn't know what to think. He knew Corcoran would never tell him the real truth. Even if bits of truth were hidden among his lies, everything Corcoran said was designed to manipulate him. If it was true that Corcoran really did have the orb containing the powers of the three Windbearers, he needed the Hammer of Haladrin, or a Builder equal in skill to King Euthor to open it.

  The mere fact that Baron was still alive gave credibility to Corcoran's claims. Why keep Baron alive if there was nothing to gain from him? Corcoran pulled a long knife from his tunic and cut the bonds around Baron's wrists.

  “I would think I don't have to warn you what will happen if you try and escape,” he said, walking from the room.

  Baron heard a heavy door close behind him and a bolt latch. Then he was alone. Immediately his mind went dizzy with anxiety, fear, and grief. How had things gone so wrong? He should've stayed with Sheabor. The only thing Ariadra had wanted was for him not to forget who he was. He had a destiny to fulfill, a calling to defend those who couldn't defend themselves.

  As he sat there, a feeling grew more terrible than the grief he felt over her death. Now he felt that he had betrayed her. She had asked one thing from him but anger had blinded him. Now, he had no hope of fulfilling it. Could he even escape this place? The realization caused a wave of anguish, unleashing bitter tears.

  Baron didn't want to be alive anymore. It would have been better f
or him to die than to fall into the hands of Corcoran. If only he had been the one hit by the fatal arrow. If Ariadra were in his place, she would've gone with Sheabor. She was stronger than he had ever been. Why hadn't she been the one to live?

  For a long time Baron sat in the chair with his head in his hands. But at length he arose, coming over to the weapon laid on the table by Corcoran. Baron took it in hand, examining it. He had seen this weapon before. It truly had come from the burial chamber of Sheyla.

  Baron didn't know what to make of what Corcoran had told him. The things he'd said seemed to carry a ring of truth. But was Baron really to believe that King Euthor was the villain, keeping Madrigan and Sheyla apart, and banishing Madrigan's followers on the threat of death never to return? It couldn't be. But did it even matter? If Corcoran was telling the truth about Pallin...if he really had found the orb first...then what hope did they have of stopping him?

  Baron needed to escape. Where in the world was he? Corcoran had mentioned that Suriya was within his reach. He must be in a fort in the Westward Wilds somewhere. The windows in the room were small and well overhead. Even if he dragged the chair beneath one, he still wouldn't be able to peer out.

  So he set off about the room, searching for anything to aid him. The floor beneath him was stone, which he could manipulate and most likely use to escape. But escape to where? He needed more information. Corcoran was only sparing his life because he wanted Baron's cooperation. But that could change in an instant.

  Wandering back to the table, Baron gazed down at the mace left by Corcoran, taking it in hand and staring long. Baron closed his eyes and concentrated, exerting the full strength of his ability against the dark stone, to little effect. Opening his eyes, and clenching his jaw, he took a deep breath and tried again. Baron would unlock its secrets. It was only a matter of time.

  Sheyla

  A lone figure stood on the circular pavilion outside the palace hall of Eulsiphion, her white silken dress fluttering in the cool breeze. A necklace with a brightly colored blue jewel hung about her neck which she clutched as she gazed over the distant plains. Her other hand was pressed against the silver streaks of the Athel stone beside her.