The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  “We're counting on it,” King Froamb said with a bow. “But if you don't mind, I have duties to attend to. Please excuse me.”

  Then the three were left alone.

  “Has there been any word?” Ariadra asked.

  He could tell in her eyes what she was asking.

  “Too soon,” he responded.

  Ariadra nodded slowly, then turned her misty eyes back over the open plains, pulling up one of the sleeves of her gown to quickly wipe her eyes.

  “What's going to happen now?” Ariadra asked, nodding to the newly departed army.

  “I don't know,” Sheabor replied and began pacing back and forth on the wall as though in frustration.

  “I can't do any good from here,” he continued. “I'm cut off from the coalition, the resistance, and communications with Kester. I need to be back at the alliance city. But I can't leave here knowing an attack could come at any moment. I feel paralyzed.”

  “Imagine for the moment that it isn't your responsibility to carry the whole world on your shoulders,” Cora replied. “What would a man who only wants to do his part do?”

  Sheabor chuckled, turning to Ariadra who smiled at the exchange.

  “Probably remain here and trust that the others will do what needs to be done.”

  “There, you see,” she replied. “Not so paralyzing after all.”

  Ariadra laughed but quickly concealed it with her hand, glancing around for onlookers to witness her unqueenly manner. Sheabor chuckled, shaking his head in surrender until Ariadra let out a sigh at length. In a way, Cora reminded her of Baron, playful yet forceful in her declarations. Sheabor gazed at Ariadra with a warm smile, seeming to sense what she was thinking.

  “Can we escort you back to the palace hall?” he asked.

  Ariadra bowed in assent. Then descending the wall, the three moved through the streets of Eulsiphion. Ariadra wandered slowly, stopping by the grassy parks, her gaze distant as though remembering something out of a dream. Though she played the part of Sheyla perfectly, it made Sheabor wonder just how much she had gained from Sheyla during their brief encounter.

  At length, they arrived at the broad staircase leading up to the palace hall, ascending and finding Aravas there. Sheabor had only spoken to him briefly since learning of Pallin's death. Aravas was strangely stoic, having lost two brothers, one by his own hand, and standing on the verge of reclaiming the powers he had given up eons ago.

  It gave Sheabor pause. The Keepers of the Wind had always followed their own code...done as they saw fit. And though they had spent the last twelve hundred years as mere men, once regaining their powers, could they still be counted on as the allies they had been until now?

  It was the Keepers of the Wind who tore the world in two. And oddly, in his desperation to rule all life, Corcoran was repairing the destruction the Keepers had unleashed. The world was finally being remade. It reminded him of the last lines of the poem of King Euthor:

  I'll wait with her beneath the shade

  And wait until the world's remade...

  They hadn't understood the full meaning until now. King Euthor had bound his own spirit to the Hammer of Haladrin. But until Ariadra stepped forward from that coffin, none had realized that King Euthor had also bound Sheyla's spirit with a piece of Soul Stone to her own sepulcher.

  They had been separated for twelve hundred years. And in a very real way, if Durian had failed to perceive his plan, King Euthor and Sheyla would never have been reunited, their spirits forever trapped apart. It made Sheabor marvel to think just how much King Euthor risked to help those he would never meet.

  It brought a deep and unexpected gladness that both Durian and Ariadra had had intimate dealings with those of that time. For once this war was over, they would be able to tell the true story of King Euthor, Sheyla, and the world from before. That story would never again be lost, but would endure as long as men and women had breath in their lungs to tell it.

  Sheabor felt a strange array of emotions. Though he was being pulled in nearly every direction with things to worry about or attend to, something deeper seemed to whisper inside him, something drawing him away to quiet places of rest, to sit awhile and appreciate the magnitude of the events taking place all around him. Now that the plan of King Euthor had fully unfolded, he realized for the first time that he himself was playing an intricate role in perhaps the most important events their world had ever known. He felt honored that he should be counted upon at such a time as this.

  Perhaps Aravas felt the same way. As the group reached the top of the staircase, they came to rest beside him, casting their gaze outward over the city to the places he quietly observed. The sun was beginning to set over the far horizon, filling the sky with sunset colors.

  “What are you pondering?” he asked Aravas who turned to him with a thoughtful gaze.

  “Just considering the total sum of all my actions. Could Pallin and Malfur have been spared, had I acted differently? Or was it always meant to be thus? It seems so rash now, what we did with our powers, not considering the world that would follow after.”

  Sheabor nodded slowly. He didn't have any answers, nor did he wish to give Aravas a token response.

  “Faigean will be here soon,” Aravas said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  In a way, it would be better not to have Aravas, Faigean and Sheyla all in the same spot. It might be too tempting a target for Corcoran to resist. For if Corcoran truly believed he needed to kill both Faigean and Aravas before opening the orb in his possession, he might strike at Eulsiphion with whatever forces left at his disposal. And with the armies of Forthura away, they might not be able to repel him.

  The group waited and watched as the sun dipped down over the mountains of the Squall Highlands overlooking Eulsiphion. All around, lamps were being lit along the streets, drawing the people away from their labors to rest and recline in the grassy parks.

  But the people walked slowly, their gaze turned upward to the palace hall, where not one but two mythical figures had come to stand among them. And just before the light turned to darkness over the plains, Sheabor thought he saw movement. Gazing intently, suddenly a horn filled the air. It wasn't from Eulsiphion, but was quickly echoed by a horn from within the walls – not a call to battle but rather an announcement that an envoy had arrived.

  “Faigean is come,” Aravas declared.

  Things were now better and worse than ever before. Corcoran could end the war with one swift stroke. Or the alliance could free the powers of the Windbearers and muster the strength of the Eastern Realm to defeat Corcoran once and for all. Only time would tell.

  The Decision

  Baron gazed at the mace in his hand, observing its features. The spikes, needle sharp, could strike any surface without breaking or blunting. And though he had worked for days, the stone had yet to yield its mysteries to him.

  As a blacksmith, Baron had learned the secrets of various metals. Any ingot of iron could be manipulated with the right application of heat, water, and oil. Overheating the metal could cause brittleness, while quenching in oil could bring about a desirable flexibility.

  It was similar with stone. Some stones cracked along predictable stress lines. Others tended to shatter with a powerful enough force. But Shade Stone, thus far, had resisted all his efforts. Baron had scarcely looked up from the mace for the better part of three days.

  But at length, in frustration, he arose and began to pace the confines of the large room. And then suddenly, like a flood, all his thoughts returned to Ariadra. What would she think of him helping the man who killed her? The grief was overwhelming. Baron could scarcely think about anything else.

  But then he heard the sound of the lock on the door turning and the large door swinging on its hinges, revealing the person of Corcoran. He walked in slowly to the room with a polite smile.

  “What progress have you made?” he asked.

  “Some,” Baron replied.

&n
bsp; “Well, keep at it.”

  “I don't understand why it's so important,” Baron said. “Once you get Sheabor's hammer, you'll be able to unlock the orb with or without me.”

  “That man and his people have made hiding from me their sole obsession. Now, with two continents to scatter upon, I fear that even with the war won, their ability to slip into the shadows will prove quite nauseating.”

  Baron smirked. Corcoran lingered another moment then turned to depart. But opening the door, he hesitated and turned round again with what seemed like a troubled countenance.

  “Baron, I want to trust you with some information.” Corcoran declared. “But I don't know how you'll take it. Some things have happened that are forcing my hand and I need your help. I'm hoping this information will once and for all show you that I'm not your enemy.”

  Baron only clenched his jaw. Corcoran's attempts at friendship were growing tiresome. He opened his mouth but Corcoran cut him short.

  “When I came to your realm, I learned that one of the Builders, presumably you, went on a mission to Eulsiphion, searching for something hidden there.”

  Baron recalled the story he had told Sheabor to get away from the alliance city to go to Ariadra. And though he had never intended to visit Eulsiphion, Baron had still believed that something important was indeed hidden there. He just never knew what. Corcoran was watching him intently, seeming to read his reactions.

  “I know what they discovered there, Baron.”

  “What?”

  “A means for King Euthor to bring himself and Sheyla back to life.”

  “That's impossible.”

  “Is it? We know their spirits are still tied to this world. How else could they have been communicating with you and your friends all this time? I can only assume Euthor tied himself to his hammer, burying a piece of the Soul Stone within it. And Sheyla? Why do you think he preserved her from decay inside that crystal? He plans for them to live again.”

  Baron was stunned. It couldn't be true.

  “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

  “Because we want the same thing Baron, you and I. King Euthor only cares about himself. He'll sacrifice whomever he needs to, to see himself back on his throne with his queen by his side. Does that sound like a benevolent ruler to you? He needs to be stopped, Baron. You know that now, don't you?”

  “So you can rule instead?”

  Corcoran smiled thoughtfully.

  “Baron, one way or another, I'm going to win this war. I've already found the tomb of King Euthor and have frustrated the plans of the Windbearers. I know you believe King Euthor set plans into motion that will help you and the rest defeat me. But you need to admit the truth. It was just a desperate effort, born in futility.

  I've been preparing for twelve hundred years for this war. Do you really believe the little bread crumbs he left behind for you can actually overcome all I've set into motion? The simple truth is the longer this war drags on, the more the people of this land will die. I can guarantee your little fishing village will be among the casualties.”

  Baron clenched his jaw.

  “I'm not helping you.”

  “Then help yourself. I didn't want to tell you this, because I thought it might fill you with false hope. But if the means exist to bring Sheyla back to life, what if they could be used to bring your own bride back as well?”

  Baron felt the breath leave his lungs, as though someone had punched him squarely in the chest. That brief ray of hope weakened him to the point of fainting. Corcoran smiled that such a prospect seemed to have so much power over Baron.

  “I promise you, Baron. If you help me get Sheyla and the hammer, I will do everything in my power to return your wife to you.”

  Baron's heart was beating wildly and he felt as though he would faint. He'd barely eaten or slept for days.

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “For now, I want you to outfit my troops with armor, light and strong.”

  “And later?”

  “Help with the overthrow of Eulsiphion. If we take the city, the rest of the kingdom will have no choice but to surrender peacefully. The war will end with one swift stroke, saving thousands of lives.”

  Baron stood there, mind racing and mouth gaping.

  “Don't take long to decide. We must move quickly now. You have till the end of the day.”

  Baron nodded slowly. Then, with the locking of the door behind Corcoran, he was alone again. Thoughts came in like a flood, pounding in his head. It couldn't be true. Corcoran was lying to him. But what if he wasn't? It didn't matter. He couldn't help him.

  Baron paced the confines of the large room. He couldn't help Corcoran. He just couldn't. But what if it really was true? What if helping Corcoran ended the war more quickly and saved countless lives? What if helping him allowed Baron to see Ariadra's smiling face again?

  The thoughts made him weak and he collapsed in a nearby chair, burying his head in his hands. Why did he have to make decisions like this? All he had wanted was a simple life with Ariadra, to live out their days in service to the less fortunate, content to bask in the joy of love.

  That had been stolen from him, not only by Corcoran, but by Sheabor as well. Why couldn't they all have just left him alone? Baron broke down in angry tears. He was tired of life. He just wanted to disappear. But he knew he had to make a decision.

  How had things come to this? Baron could scarcely believe it. Had the plan of King Euthor failed so miserably? Baron didn't want to be alive anymore. Even if Corcoran were telling him the truth...that Ariadra could live again...how could he ever face her, knowing the kind of world he'd be bringing her back into? Could he look her in the eyes knowing he'd helped a tyrant establish a worldwide reign?

  What was he going to do? Both the choices before him knotted his stomach. How had he come to such a place? He felt so ashamed for the choices he had made of late. He had abandoned his destiny, the thing Ariadra had asked him with her dying breaths not to do.

  The thought made him angry. There had to be another option – something Baron hadn't considered. If there was one thing that drove him, it was the hope that he could become the man Ariadra had wanted...had pleaded with him to be. He couldn't abandon himself to despair now. He just had to think.

  But one thing troubled him greatly. Was Corcoran really telling the truth? Was King Euthor planning to bring himself and Sheyla back to life? Was that even possible? The fact that Corcoran was able to stand before him in the flesh gave merit to the idea. It was clearly possible for the spirit of a person long dead to once more set foot in the world. But Corcoran, more likely, only wanted to use Baron for what he could get from him and then kill him.

  Why couldn't he just get it over with? Why had he spared Baron instead of killing him? The prospect of death was almost welcome. Baron hadn't expected to live beyond Thay Iphilus Forest. He had only wanted to deliver the news to Ariadra's father and then slip away in peace.

  Baron was just tired of life. Though his time with Ariadra had been so brief, it was full of such joy and passion. And though Corcoran offered him a way for them to be together again, Baron knew he would rather die with the memory of the beauty he was allowed to experience, than try to retake it by force. He was now a man resigned to the past. There was nothing the future could hold, no temptation of Corcoran, that compared to the memory of what he had shared with Ariadra.

  And then, like a wave of revelation, Baron knew what he had to do. There was a third option – one neither he nor Corcoran had considered till now. If Baron played along and pretended to help Corcoran for a time, he could sabotage whatever work he had done and end his own life. Corcoran would be too busy waging war to think about taking vengeance on a little fishing village at the bottom of the world for what Baron had done. It was a way to help the alliance and save his family in the process.

  The thought brought a flood of peace. It was something Corcoran would never expect. He was a desperate, grasping sort of man
, unable to imagine how another man could choose to resign himself to death. That's how Baron would create his third option.

  It was strange. The bait Corcoran had hoped would prove an irresistible temptation was actually what most strongly drove him away. The thought of seeing Ariadra again unleashed in Baron an overwhelming desire. But the thought of bringing her back to the world, greeting her not as the Baron of old, but as the right hand of Corcoran, produced a grief and shame stronger than he could bear to consider.

  Baron breathed in deeply, feeling a measure of pride. He was choosing his destiny, not allowing a tyrant to choose it for him. And very soon, he would join Ariadra among the dead and be at peace. There were only a few things left to do.

  Coming to the large wooden door, he pounded his hand against it and waited. But the lapse of several moments yielded only more silence and Baron grew angry. Glancing about the room, the walls were solid wooden beams, but the floor was of stone and susceptible to his touch.

  Baron identified the point in the foundation which carried the load for the front wall. Weakening it, he heard the door slide with a loud wrenching of wood. Then, coming to another spot and doing likewise, the whole door frame collapsed and fell inward.

  As the dust settled, nothing seemed to happen. But after only a few moments, soldiers came running down the hall, swords drawn. Baron raised his hands in surrender.

  “Take me to him,” Baron demanded.

  The two soldiers glanced at one another, then hooked Baron round the arms and pulled him forcefully forward. Winding through the halls, Baron tried to gain familiarity with his prison. But he recognized nothing. He still had no idea where they were holding him.

  At last they came to a thick wooden door, guarded by two more men at arms. Grabbing the brass ring, they smote it against the wood and waited for reply. Then the doors opened and Baron was shoved inside.

  “That didn't take long,” Corcoran said and arose from his chair at the far end.