“What about your forces in the Westward Wilds? Can they come to our aid should Corcoran attack?”
“I'm not certain what's happened to our coalition forces. I'm hoping Estrien was successful in her counteroffensive. But no one's reported in for weeks. Corcoran may have routed them. If it comes down to it and Corcoran attacks while King Froamb's army is away, we may have no choice but for you to use your powers to stop him.”
“If we do that, the ruse will be over,” Aravas replied. “Corcoran will flee and regroup, and we'll lose our chance to trap him, perhaps forever.”
“But if Baron's really dead, our chance is already lost.”
“Blair may one day grow enough in skill to construct true Shade Stone.”
“I don't know,” Sheabor said. “We're still missing something. King Euthor didn't arrange so much just for it all to end like this. Why sacrifice Pallin if not to trick Corcoran into taking a fatal risk?”
Aravas' brow furrowed. But even as they spoke, the door to the inner chambers opened again. Ariadra stepped through, fully dressed in travel garb. Sheabor and Aravas cut off her path, startling her. Her eyes were worn red and her hands were shaking.
“I can't stay here,” Ariadra said, her voice hurried and frenzied.
“But where will you go?”
“I need to be with my family.”
“You'll never make it! Corcoran will surely capture you. And when he sees you're not really Sheyla, he'll kill you.”
“I don't care.”
Sheabor's eyes misted with tears, the sting of her loss more poignant by the memory of how devastated he had been at the news of Cora's death. But something gave him hope. Every time they'd been struck with tragedy, somehow beyond imagining, things had turned around.
“I know I don't have any right to ask this of you, but please stay and trust us. Things are going to work out in the end. I don't know how but somehow they will.”
Ariadra broke down in tears, crying against his chest as he tried his best to soothe her with a warm embrace.
“Why not let Cora stay with you awhile?” Sheabor asked. “Let's get you back to your room.”
Ariadra seemed too frail to protest. Stopping by his own chamber and waking Cora, she went with Ariadra. Sheabor stood in the empty hall and took a deep breath. He should be taking his own advice. How would he be acting if he truly believed that things would work out for the best in the end?
He'd send scouts to Thob Forest and learn the numbers and positions of the enemy. Then he'd form a strategy to stop them. But that would take too long. Sheabor wandered back to the palace hall, not seeing Aravas. But glancing around, he spotted him on the open pavilion. Just then, and idea came to mind.
“How far can you see with the Athel stone?” he asked as he walked up to Aravas.
“Many leagues.”
“All the way to Thob Forest?”
“If the light is strong enough.”
“Then tell me what you see.”
Aravas paced his palm against the Athel stone and took a deep breath. Far above, the moon rained light brightly down. For minutes he said nothing but at length he held out his other hand, which Sheabor took. Immediately he was propelled eastward across the plains, coming to rest at the trees of a dark forest.
At first, he saw nothing. But then he caught sight of movements in the trees – soldiers in dark armor on horseback. Corcoran was riding north under the cover of the woods. The invasion was beginning. Sheabor tried discerning their numbers but everything was too jumbled.
As Aravas removed his palm from the Athel, Sheabor's gaze was fixed on the stone floor, lost in thought. That couldn't be all of Corcoran's forces. Where were the siege works and the Dungeon Core?
“What do you make of it?” Sheabor asked.
“It looks like an elite force, similar to the one which invaded the lands of the Horctura.”
“Did you see anything else?”
Aravas shook his head. It troubled Sheabor greatly. Was Corcoran hoping to sneak into the castle somehow? They'd done it once before to capture Pallin. In either case, Corcoran was on the move.
Sheabor considered waking the king, calling for his army to return at once. But if they were still waging war against the Horctura, it would do little good. They would never arrive in time.
Sheabor paced the palace hall floor for the rest of the night. In the early morning watches, Cora came out to join him.
“How is she?”
“You need some sleep,” she said, embracing him. “Ariadra may recover in time. She's young.”
As they embraced for long moments, even without seeing her eyes, he could tell her gaze was troubled.
“I'm still not convinced at what she saw,” Cora said at length. “It feels like something's off...something we haven't thought of yet.”
“I know,” Sheabor replied. “I just can't figure out what. And by the time we do, I fear it'll be too late. Has she tried to use the Athel stone again to see if Baron's really gone?”
Cora shook her head. It wouldn't be right to ask her to do that. What if Corcoran, in his anger, had done something to Baron's body as a warning to others who would cross him?
“We've spotted a group of warriors heading north through Thob Forest.”
Cora grew tense in his arms.
“I don't know if it's an invasion. Corcoran might just be mobilizing his forces.”
“What does your heart tell you?”
“That he'll strike soon, before King Froamb's army returns.”
“Are we ready for him?”
“As ready as we can be. We still have a few hundred soldiers in the city. And if worse comes to worst, Aravas and Faigean can try to stop his advance as they did once before.”
But had it really come to that? Had Corcoran so universally outwitted them yet again? And would Aravas and Faigean even be willing to risk another disaster like the cyclone that ended the Prosperous Age? All Sheabor could do was trust that somehow things would work out in the end. It was a fool's hope, but it was all he had.
Sheabor and Cora stayed in each other's arms until the city began to stir. King Froamb emerged and took his throne and Sheabor approached with a bow.
“I have news, good King. Through the Athel stone, Aravas and I have discovered a large contingent of the enemy traveling on horseback up through Thob Forest. Their intentions aren't yet clear, but it may be the first makings of an invasion.”
King Froamb's gaze was troubled as he leaned forward in his throne. Then turning, he addressed one of his military advisers.
“What is the status of our army?”
“The fortress, Trakhendor, has been taken, my King. The army is securing the surrounding region.”
“Dispatch a rider at once,” he commanded. “Tell the general we can suffer his absence no longer. Tell him to leave only what men he needs to keep the fort secure.”
The adviser was hesitant and reasonably so. They had lost many soldiers in taking the fort. If they abandoned it and the Horctura retook control, they'd have given their lives for nothing.
“If that doesn't suit the general, tell him to burn the fort to the ground.”
The adviser bowed low and then departed. King Froamb thought for long moments and then turned his gaze back to Sheabor.
“What is the status of your forces?”
“I'm not sure,” Sheabor replied. “I haven't gotten word on the results of the counteroffensive in the Westward Wilds.”
“Then it seems we're on our own. Keep me updated on the whereabouts of Corcoran's forces.”
The darkness of night gave way to the morning, but storm clouds were gathering outside and the distant rumbling of thunder was heard. Only meager light passed through the dark clouds, making the Athel impossible to use. With the coming storm, a growing sense of trepidation enveloped them.
Durian emerged from the palace chambers, coming over to Sheabor and Cora and standing silently beside them with a grave look. Sheabor knew why. Durian fel
t responsible for the mess they were in. Corcoran had seemingly outwitted them yet again and Durian hadn't seen it coming. Nor had he been able to determine the final plan of King Euthor. And now his best friend was dead.
Sheabor opened his mouth to encourage him but the outer doors to the palace hall suddenly swung open, revealing a person they hadn't expected to see. For a long moment, Sheabor thought it was Baron but soon realized it was his brother, Blair. A streak of grief hit him, for he would have to tell Blair the news of his brother's death.
“I brought the rest of the suits of armor,” Blair declared. “I could only fashion a dozen more from the remaining sands.”
“Thank you,” Sheabor replied.
“There's something else,” Blair said. “Before leaving the alliance city, Jaithur sent word that a full blown invasion has begun into the lands of Kester – thousands of troops, siege works and the beasts under his command. He's hitting Kester with everything he's got. Estrien and the others have joined Commander Rovak's forces to defend one of their key strongholds.”
Silence filled the room. Why would Corcoran send the bulk of his forces into Kester when his main objective was to conquer Eulsiphion? Was it all just a diversion? It didn't make sense. Blair turned to leave but Sheabor came up and grabbed him by the arm.
“I have to tell you something, Blair. Can I have a word in private?”
Sheabor extended his hand toward the open pavilion and walked with Blair away from the crowd. Overhead, the dark clouds still rumbled and flashed in the distance.
“I have some terrible news, Blair,” Sheabor began. “Baron was captured by Corcoran. He was trying to make it to Thay Iphilus Forest to tell Ariadra's father what had happened to her. It looks like Baron chose to take his own life rather than help Corcoran.”
“You're telling me Baron's dead?”
Sheabor nodded.
“I've heard that before. Not long ago, Ariadra thought the Forest Guard had killed him.”
“This time she's fairly certain.”
“She was fairly certain last time.”
Sheabor opened his mouth to respond but he didn't fully understand Blair's persistence.
“I need Baron,” Blair declared at length. “I can't do what I need to do without him. That means he's still alive, regardless of what you've been told.”
Sheabor was struck. In some ways, he greatly admired Blair's faith in King Euthor. Apart from Ariadra, Blair was the only other person who had personally interacted with him. Since then, Blair seemed to have an extra sense of what needed to happen even when no one else could see it.
“I sincerely hope you're right,” Sheabor said.
“I'd like some food and a place to wash up,” Blair said.
“Of course.”
Durian came and embraced Blair for long moments.
“I'm so sorry about Baron,” he said.
“You know Baron. He'll turn up.”
Durian seemed taken aback but Blair only smiled warmly, placing his hand on Durian's shoulder and then departing. For the rest of that day, the storm grew and darkened, flashes of lightning illuminating the plains roundabout. Few words were spoken by any in the city, for word had gone out about what Sheabor had seen with Aravas, an elite force of Corcoran moving northward through Thob Forest.
Using the Athel what little they could in the sparse light, they were able to discern that Corcoran's horsemen bypassed the stronghold of Dagron and were headed straight for Eulsiphion. Dagron would've been an easier target, for it's garrison had mostly been emptied in the war effort against the Horctura.
But Corcoran's horsemen were now riding through the open plains, their intent unmistakable. They meant to march against Eulsiphion and they would be here by the evening. There was nothing to do but wait.
Sheabor and Cora were on the pavilion along with many others, watching the west. Near sunset, the sun broke through the clouds for a brief and final time, with shafts of light along the plain. Aravas placed the palm of his hand atop the Athel stone, calling Sheabor over to him and grabbing his hand.
Sheabor was propelled forward a few leagues to a hundred or so horsemen riding toward them, clad head to toe in black armor. The armor was near identical to that they'd encountered before. But something about it was subtly different. The swirling pattern of the stone reminded him of stone which Baron had worked on in the alliance city.
For whatever reason, each Builder had a specific pattern in the stone they built. Blair's stone was always mottled and spotted, whereas King Euthor's stone carried tiny streaks. Sheabor's heart sank at the revelation, understanding why Baron had taken his own life. It must have been grief, having been forced to help Corcoran. He resolved not to tell Ariadra. If they lost the battle, it wouldn't matter anyway.
But what was Corcoran doing? Even with armor like that, what hope did he have of taking Eulsiphion with a mere hundred horsemen? It felt like a diversion. What if his forces were down below the city even now, searching the tunnels for a way inside?
Sheabor had no idea what was happening, and uncertainty frightened him more than the sight of vast armies. He was so close to asking Aravas and Faigean to unleash their powers and stop the enemy from reaching the city. For if Corcoran really did find a way inside Eulsiphion, it would be too late for the Windbearers to drive him off. Their powers wouldn't help in the close quarters of the city.
But Corcoran might not even be among the horsemen. Perhaps it was all a ploy to see how Sheabor and the others would respond. Sheabor had no choice but to wait and see what the enemy would do. But the waiting was the hardest part.
The sun descended behind a row of inky clouds, just a thin layer of yellowish orange above the plains that faded to the darkness of evening. But in the failing light, the first of the people caught sight of the riders amid gasps and fearful chatter.
Sheabor at length departed and made for the forward wall. King Froamb would command the troops from afar in the southern tower. But Sheabor would be among them on the wall. Returning to his chamber, Cora helped as he clad himself in a suit of Blair's armor – one of the few that weren't with the coalition forces in the west.
Assembling each piece slowly, she tied the leather straps until it was completed, then came and embraced him tightly, not knowing if it would be the last time. They held their embrace for long moments until the trumpet sounded the call to arms.
“Look after the citizens of the city,” Sheabor said. “If the battle goes ill, escape through the tunnel I told you about leading behind the waterfall.”
“Fight bravely, my love.”
The Assault
Three figures stood high atop the pavilion overlooking the city Eulsiphion – Faigean, Aravas and Ariadra, who wore the gown and necklace of Sheyla. Before the city stood a contingent of horsemen waiting just outside the range of the catapults. Sheabor had expected more to come, but the horsemen stood alone.
The storm grew and raindrops began to fall amid the rolling thunder. Still the horsemen hesitated. Were they here to talk or offer terms? Maybe he would promise them something in exchange for Sheyla. Surely they weren't going to attack with a mere hundred men. Unless they somehow managed to climb the walls. Then it would be a fair fight.
Sheabor didn't like it. Something was off. He turned to Blair, standing beside him, but Blair's gaze was distant and grave. Blair had spent the last several hours coating the tips of their archer's arrows with stone. It had allowed arrows to penetrate their hybrid armor once before.
But would it really come to that? Would they really attack a castle with a hundred horsemen? No one knew what to make of this new development of the enemy. Could it just be a ploy to see how they'd react? Sheabor worked to quiet his mind and forget about all the possibilities of what could be.
The rain came cold and threatened to freeze the hands of the Forthurian soldiers, making aim difficult against moving targets. But so far, the riders were still hesitating just outside catapult range. Were they waiting for Sheabor or King F
roamb to send out an emissary? Was Corcoran even among their number? Had he again taken physical form, like he had by overtaking Durian?
After a long while, the men's nerves grew raw as they shivered in the cold rain, which was beginning to wane. But then, without warning, the riders exploded forward in unison.
“Catapults!” Sheabor yelled. “Fire!”
Only one catapult fired immediately, the others moments later in scattered intervals as rain-soaked soldiers attended their posts. Only one of them had been at the ready. Sheabor clenched his jaw. It was clever.
Large chunks of rock sailed overhead into the field. But with such a small, quick force, very few of the stones found their marks.
“Reload!” Sheabor yelled.
Moments later, more chunks of stone hurled toward the riders, landing all around them. But the horsemen kept coming.
“Archers!” Sheabor yelled.
Arrows flew overhead, coming down in the field all around the horsemen. Some of the arrows met their marks, lodging inside the dark armor. But not a single warrior fell to the first volley. Blair stepped forward, leaning against the wall in disbelief.
“The armor is stronger than before,” Blair said.
“Second volley!” Sheabor yelled.
This volley had greater success but the riders were nearly upon them and only a handful had fallen. Sheabor raised his own bow and took careful aim at one of the head warriors. But the riders, as they neared, each raised a crossbow aimed at the archers on the wall. Sheabor continued to aim.
“Fire!” Blair yelled at him.
After another moment passed, Blair grabbed him by the arm just as he fired, pulling him to the ground, a crossbow bolt whizzing just overhead. A handful of the bolts met their marks in the Forthurian archers but a half dozen riders also fell to the arrows.
Sheabor burst up from the ground, rushing to the edge of the wall and peering over. Some of the riders had dismounted but the rest were reloading their crossbows and riding back and forth parallel to the wall, firing at the archers on the wall.
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 109
