The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  The pair tumbled through the field and as they came to rest, the creature pushed Straiah from its body, sending him through the air and landing with a thud. Estrien got back on her feet and took up her sword, running toward Straiah.

  But a pikeman approached, stabbing at her. She dodged the blow and kept running. The creature and Straiah were both in a daze, rising slowly side by side. Another warrior came toward Estrien, flanking her from the left and swinging across her torso.

  She blocked the blow but weakly and let the force of it spin her around, bringing her fist down on the warrior's jaw. But she stumbled backward, tripping over one of the fallen soldiers in the field. Looking over, she saw Straiah and the creature both pushing up from the ground, the creature swinging the back of its fist toward Straiah and hitting him in the helmet, and knocking him onto his back.

  “Straiah!” Estrien called out.

  But he wasn't moving. Estrien scrambled to her feet, rushing forward and running into a pair of warriors, whose blades were locked. Tripping the Dungeon Core warrior and pulling him away, both soldiers tumbled to the ground. The creature was crouched low over Straiah, both fists clenched as though to pound the life from him.

  “Hey!” Estrien shouted. “I'm not finished with you yet!”

  The creature turned with eyes of fury, leaping toward her with a powerful swing. She ducked and dashed forward, dodging another swing from the back of the creature's fist. The creature grabbed a pike stuck in the field and raised it against her.

  Estrien advanced with a yell. The creature swung for her head and she ducked it, swinging upward. He blocked the strike but she split his pike in two, then stabbed upward with all her might, impaling the creature straight through the gut.

  The beast struck her with the back of his hand, sending her to the ground. It tried to rise, but clutched at its torso and fell to its knees, letting out a weak roar, finally dropping to the ground.

  Estrien's whole body throbbed with pain. Adrenaline had sustained her while the beast threatened to tear her to pieces. But with the threat over, she felt the weight of all the blows she'd sustained.

  She took another deep breath and forced herself up, coming over to Straiah who was just beginning to rise. Estrien hooked him round the waist and helped him to his feet, taking off her helmet.

  “You reckless man,” she said with a smile.

  Taking his helmet off also, he shook the wooziness from his head. Seeing the beast slain in the field he looked at her in wonder.

  “Is there anything you don't do?” he asked.

  “Retreat.”

  Then putting their helmets back on, the pair rushed side by side into the fray. The siege towers had gone silent, the battle too thick and crowded around them and the fires the Jedra had lit were climbing upward. But the army of Kester was slowly being pushed backward toward the castle. Unless something drastic changed, the forces of Corcoran would claim the victory here.

  Estrien encouraged herself with the notion that even if they lost here today, they had crippled Corcoran's ability to take his war further into the country of Kester. Many more lives would be saved by their actions. But would they live to see it?

  The Return

  Sheabor and King Froamb stood side by side on the low wall of the inner keep. Everything was silent. Thus far, the forces of Corcoran hadn't continued their advance. What was happening? Corcoran had hesitated in attacking the first time to wear their nerves raw and get them lax in their alertness. Perhaps he was doing the same thing again. Or perhaps he was searching for another way inside.

  Sheabor glanced down to Blair who was rushing from place to place trying to determine if Corcoran was tunneling through in another spot. But so far, all was still and quiet.

  Sheabor thought he heard something faint and far off. Turning to the king, he appeared to have heard it as well for he craned his neck outward. It came a second time, like a distant trumpet call. And then a wave of realization seemed to sweep over the king.

  “The army is returning!” King Froamb declared. “That's the victor's horn. Let's see what chance Corcoran thinks he stands now!”

  But a streak of fear hit Sheabor. The army had returned quickly upon the king's order. They were road weary and battle weary and not expecting a fight. Just then, they heard a sound that confirmed Sheabor's fears. The outer gate began to open with a deep creaking of wood.

  “We have to warn them!”

  “Corcoran will surely have men lying in wait for us, should we emerge.

  “We can't just sit here! The men are walking right into a trap!”

  Sheabor thought quickly. Surely the army would see that the city had been overtaken. The signs of battle were evident enough, with arrow shafts sunk into the field and the gaping tunnel in the wall. But Corcoran's forces had attacked from the west and King Froamb's army marched from the north. If they weren't paying attention and the Builder resealed the tunnel, the army could miss it.

  “We'll take the wall back to the southern tower,” King Froamb declared.

  “That's the first thing they'll expect.”

  “I won't just stand here while my army is ambushed!”

  King Froamb turned to depart but Sheabor caught him by the arm.

  “Blair, come up here,” he yelled. “I have an idea.”

  Blair ran up the stairs to join them.

  “Blair, how long would it take to tunnel through from the inner keep to outside the main wall?”

  Blair glanced to the south, where the main wall joined the inner keep wall.

  “Not long.”

  “If we get outside the city, we can run along the base of the wall and tunnel back through once we reach the front.”

  “Then let's get moving,” King Froamb said. “You two, with us.”

  Besides Sheabor and King Froamb, only two Forthurian soldiers had survived who wore Blair's suits of armor. It would be the five of them against the dozens of Corcoran's elite forces now at large within the city. And with them gone, Corcoran's forces could easily overwhelm the soldiers staying behind in the keep.

  The five set off, reaching the junction where the two walls met. Blair began running his hands along the wall as though searching for something. After a minute, he seemed to sense their impatience.

  “It's as much finesse as power.”

  Then, apparently finding what he was after, he slapped the palm of his hand against the hard stone, cracking it. Placing his fingertips into the crack, he pulled the stone apart with all his might like curtains. Just then, Ariadra appeared from behind.

  “We saw the army approaching to the north. Corcoran is going to ambush them. We have to warn them.”

  “That's just what we're about to do,” Sheabor replied.

  “But you need to stay with the others. They won't stand a chance if Corcoran breaks through the inner keep. Let me go. His soldiers won't fire on me. I'll ride out and warn the army.”

  “It's too risky,” Sheabor said. “If he captures you...”

  Ariadra opened her mouth but Sheabor cut her short.

  “I need you to find Cora. Tell her to start evacuating the women and children down the hidden passageway in the palace hall. With the army approaching, Corcoran has enough to manage. I doubt he'll have men stationed at the mouth of the tunnel.”

  Ariadra nodded slowly, then set off toward the palace hall as Blair finished.

  “Come on,” he said.

  “You stay, Blair,” Sheabor ordered.

  “I can help you.”

  “The mission is too dangerous. Close the hole behind us and do what you can to keep them out of the inner city.”

  Blair clenched his jaw but nodded. He wasn't a warrior and he wasn't even wearing one of his own suits of armor. But he hated staying behind to wait and watch. Soon the four warriors were out in the plains, running along the base of the wall, Sheabor anxious to see how many troops were still with King Froamb's army. They'd only set out with a thousand men and the general had reported heavy l
osses.

  They crept toward the base of the southern tower, their armor softly clanking as they went. But the sound of hundreds of armored soldiers marching grew louder as they approached the front of the main wall. Peeking his head around, he peered into the darkness.

  The storm had largely subsided but a thick darkness still blotted out the moon and stars. Sheabor only saw vague shapes and movements. The army was close to the city but on the far side of the wall. They'd have to run across it in full view of Corcoran's forces to get to them.

  If they made a break for it, their armor would probably protect them, at least for awhile. By the time the arrows got to them, the army would see what was happening. But they'd never survive. The arrows would ultimately find the joints in the armor.

  “We need a plan,” King Froamb said.

  Sheabor pondered for a quick moment.

  “I have an idea. Corcoran's forces are leaving the gate open to keep up appearances. But once the ambush happens, it will quickly close. If we sneak in now, we can take out the warriors stationed at the gate. If they fire on your army, they'll soon have a flood of soldiers pouring into the city.”

  King Froamb grappled with the idea, for under Sheabor's plan Corcoran's forces would still get the drop on his troops. But they'd stand a better chance retaking the city. At length, King Froamb set off without a word, hugging the wall toward the forward gate.

  Though unable to completely conceal the sounds of their armor, the marching army grew louder each moment, less than a thousand paces away now. Inching ever closer, the four warriors were now just outside, waiting till the last possible moment.

  Minutes passed, the marching of hundreds of soldiers growing and growing. Sheabor slowly unsheathed his sword, followed by the others. The forward soldiers were well within archer range. But Corcoran would let them get all the way to the front gate before firing.

  Beside the troops, two officers on horseback came into view, one of them the general. He would surely be the first to fall. With him slain and no one giving orders, chaos would ensue. King Froamb would have to take control. Sheabor leaned in close.

  “They'll aim for the general with the first volley,” Sheabor said. “Once we take out the soldiers manning the gate, you'll need to take command of your army in the field.”

  King Froamb nodded. Then, raising his sword, he sprang from the wall, the four warriors rushing inside the main gate. At first, all was darkness. But what came into view next sent panic into their hearts and stopped them in their tracks. At least ten warriors of the enemy were standing just inside the gate. They were waiting for them! Corcoran had anticipated Sheabor's move.

  “Close it,” their lead warrior said.

  The gears began to turn and the gate quickly lifted.

  “No!” King Froamb roared and rushed forward before Sheabor had time to think. The others followed and Sheabor rushed in behind them.

  King Froamb slammed himself into the middle of the pack with a great crash, half a dozen warriors tumbling to the ground. The other two each engaged a warrior, leaving Sheabor with the lead man. Sheabor swung with all his might, taking advantage of the close quarters.

  The warrior blocked with a step back, their swords locking. Standing there grappling with him, something in the warrior's eyes struck Sheabor as familiar. But a sword struck Sheabor in the side, knocking him against the wall with a thud. Though the armor shielded him, the force of the blow passed right through like a punch to the gut.

  King Froamb fought with fury, swinging wildly with his fists. Three of Corcoran's soldiers already were lying on the ground, unconscious or dead, as was one of King Froamb's men. Sheabor didn't have time to think. Another swing came toward his face, which he ducked. But the boot of their lead warrior struck him in the side, knocking him down.

  Time seemed to blur. Sheabor closed his eyes, waiting for the end.

  “Long have you defied me,” Corcoran said, standing over him.

  Sheabor felt the tip of a sword pointed against his helmet. Out beyond, the sounds of chaos were still raging. All hope was quickly fading. But something was familiar in the voice that spoke to him as Corcoran. And suddenly, realization swept over him.

  “Baron?” Sheabor exclaimed.

  Sheabor's world spun. Blair had been right. Baron was alive. Not only that, but he had been brought by Corcoran right to them!

  “Baron!” Sheabor yelled. “Wake up!”

  Corcoran lifted his head back in laughter.

  “Fool! He can't help you.”

  But just then, King Froamb appeared from behind, grabbing Corcoran round the chest and squeezing with all his might, lifting him off the ground. Sheabor scrambled up, taking his hammer from behind his back. Two of Corcoran's warriors came against him. Rushing forward, he raised his left hand, taking a sword strike to the gauntlet and then swung the hammer at the other foe, shattering his breastplate and sending him to the ground.

  A searing pain shot through his wrist from the sword strike but he didn't think the bone was broken. He ran forward, taking another blow to the top of his shoulder, which made him stumble. But he leaped toward his target – the mechanism that held the gate.

  Swinging the hammer with all his might, he smashed it. The chain released and the gate began to fall. But the broken mechanism stuck after only a moment, the gate barely open. The warrior was over him in an instant, swinging down.

  Sheabor dodged to one side but the warrior kicked him in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. As he lay there breathless, he heard the sound of King Froamb giving a fatal cry, finally falling to the swords of Corcoran's men. They had failed. But he felt the tip of his boot strike against the thick chain of the gate. In a final effort, Sheabor pulled his leg back and kicked it.

  He heard the sound of wood splintering as the massive tension on the chain worked to break free. Then, a moment later, the chain ripped free from its housing, opening the gate. A roar erupted from the soldiers in the field and they ran in unison toward the city.

  The warrior over him brought his sword back down toward Sheabor. He narrowly rolled to one side, then swung his hammer low, striking the warrior in the knee. Letting out a cry of pain, he dropped his sword and clutched his leg. Sheabor arose and felled him with another swing of his hammer.

  But Corcoran and four of his warriors were now upon him. Sheabor could see the Forthurian soldiers rushing toward the open gate, at least a few hundred warriors. They'd arrive in moments. But Sheabor might not have that long.

  Sheabor blocked the first and second blows with his sword, retreating backward. But a third blow sliced across his chest, and ripped the hammer from his hands. Another blow came toward his face, which he narrowly ducked but then dashed forward past them toward the incoming army.

  But he saw something that sent a streak of fear into his heart – Corcoran reaching down and taking the hammer into his hands. In the darkness of the tunnel the deep inner glow radiated out. Corcoran turned to him with a smile.

  “Keep them out of my city,” Corcoran said to his warriors.

  Then he disappeared around the corner. The four warriors squared off with Sheabor retreated a short ways to the other warriors who had descended down the wall to meet the oncoming force and try to jam them up in the tunnel. The soldiers entered the open gate. But Corcoran's forces took aim at them with drawn bows. Sheabor took the lead and rushed in front of them, hoping to draw some of their fire. But Corcoran's forces weren't stupid and the arrows flew past him.

  Sheabor was exhausted but sprinted forward with a yell, his heart pounding with worry. Corcoran now had everything he needed to complete the mission he came to Eulsiphion for. If he made it into the palace hall, he'd kill Aravas and Faigean. But he wouldn't stop there. Blair would fall next and surely Ariadra.

  If Sheabor couldn't get to them in time, Corcoran would win. He wouldn't stop now that he was this close. So plunging forward, he met the forces of Corcoran once more, fighting with every ounce of strength left in his bod
y.

  The Vault

  Sheabor and the Forthurian army smashed into the forces of Corcoran. Sheabor took a spear tip to the chest, which bounced to one side, and he slew the warrior who wielded it. The battle erupted all around, Corcoran's forces pushed back several steps, but holding their ground at the end of the tunnel.

  In the near beyond, Sheabor caught sight of Corcoran moving toward the inner city with a small band of warriors. There was still a force fifty strong defending the inner keep. But would they be a match for a dozen of Corcoran's elite force?

  “Push them back!” Sheabor yelled.

  The only advantage of traditional armor was that, being thicker and forged purely of metal, it was heavier. Corcoran's forces couldn't keep them from advancing but made them pay dearly for every inch they gained.

  Then, like a river breaking through a dam, the soldiers began spilling through the opening. Corcoran's forces retreated a short distance, enough for their archers on the wall to start firing on the advancing troops.

  Sheabor needed to get past them. Corcoran had disappeared from view and would soon reach the inner keep. Even if the army defeated his forces here, if he got to Ariadra and the Windbearers, he'd kill them, not to mention Cora. Had she gotten the women and children to safety through the tunnel? Was she watching from afar even now? Sheabor didn't know. And that uncertainty brought panic.

  Engaging the nearest warrior, his muscles burned with fatigue. He wouldn't last much longer. But ducking a swing from an oncoming warrior, he threw him over his shoulder. There was only one more warrior standing between him and the rest of the city.

  Sheabor rushed at him, swinging across his chest. He blocked and swung in return, which Sheabor ducked and advanced. But the warrior took a step back and swung again downward. Sheabor took a risk and sidestepped the blow, the edge of his sword stroking the edge of Sheabor's chestpiece and bouncing from it.