“I just can't believe it's all over,” he said. “I can't believe we did it.”
“Get your rest, my love. The burial of the fallen soldiers happens this evening. And they've asked you to be a part of the special procession for King Froamb.”
A streak of grief hit Sheabor as he remembered that his friend, King Froamb, had fallen in battle.
“He saved all of us,” Sheabor said. “He gave his life so the army could enter the city.”
“And you'll make sure they all know it.”
Sheabor nodded, a wave of fatigue hitting him. Soon he was fast asleep again.
Baron and Ariadra wandered the city hand woven in hand, almost in a daze. He couldn't stop looking at her. And she couldn't stop smiling in return, wiping the glistening tears from her eyes. Those they passed stopped to watch and give them a bow.
The city was just learning what had really happened, that the girl they thought was Sheyla was actually the wife of the Builder who led the assault against their city...how in the end, the thing that saved everyone was the bond of love that couldn't be broken between Baron and Ariadra. It survived death, doubt and despair, and overcame the will of Corcoran.
Soon, they had wandered through the city gate and were out in the open plains beyond. A breeze came cold and Baron pulled Ariadra close. But the lengthening day compelled their return. Coming back, they ascended the stairs to the palace hall and entered the room.
Something caught Baron's attention – the statue of King Euthor. Walking to it, he and Ariadra stood in front, gazing into the stone face of the ancient king. They stood there for minutes, both knowing what the other was thinking.
But Baron found it difficult to look in the face of the statue and cast his eyes to the floor. King Euthor had known the pain of inexpressible loss. But Euthor had never experienced the joy of seeing the smiling face of his wife returned to him. Baron got the reunion King Euthor had deserved. And Baron had gotten it despite the fact that he'd doubted and hated the man who gave it to him. He felt such guilt for it now, yet knew at the same time, it couldn't have been any other way.
Now, standing before the statue of the great king, Baron felt such remorse, not only for how he had misjudged King Euthor, but for how tragic a fate he had suffered, living the rest of his days with the grief of his loss. Durian had shared with Baron the final poem King Euthor had written. Baron could scarcely read it before his vision blurred with tears. For he himself could've had the same story to write but for the grace of King Euthor.
Baron marveled that Durian had figured out the intentions of King Euthor before he could even really put them into words. It was amazing how between three Suriyans, King Euthor had found everything he needed to carry out his bold and intricate plan. He found Durian, a man in love with the history of their world, who would seek to understand and unlock every mystery. He found Blair, a man who would leave everything on a hunch, finding a mystical island that no one else even knew existed.
And last, he found Baron. Baron took a deep breath and thought about his actions of late. How foolish and stupid he'd been...so slow to trust those around him who only wanted the best for him. He cringed at some of the choices he'd made. But if he'd acted any differently, would the plan of King Euthor have succeeded? Baron, unwittingly, had done everything he needed to do to carry out designs twelve hundred years in the making.
How could a man like Baron be so integral to his plans? Only months ago he'd been the mermaid of Skull Island. But then it dawned on him. It had nothing to do with intelligence or natural talent. It was the intensity with which he was willing to love. That's what King Euthor was looking for, a couple whose love burned brightly, who would act desperately and boldly and foolishly. That was the only qualification they needed.
Though Baron had only thought of him as a regal king, ruling from his throne, he couldn't help but wonder at how similar he was to the ancient king. Baron would've liked to have known him. But Ariadra suddenly turned to him with a smile.
“You remind me of him, you know,” she said.
Baron smiled wide, recalling what he had told her, how Ariadra had reminded him of Sheyla. But he didn't quite take her meaning and he stared at her curiously. She grabbed him by the arm the adorable way she always did when suddenly remembering something she'd forgotten to mention.
“I have so much to tell you,” she exclaimed. “There was a minute when I was first down in the vault, when Sheyla, King Euthor and I were all there in spirit. They told me so many things.”
Then she proceeded to tell him the rest of the story, how she was actually distantly related to Sheyla's brother. Baron listened in great surprise. And then in a moment of revelation, he realized that perhaps really it was Ariadra they had chosen, that she was the one they needed to carry out their plan. Baron didn't know that he would ever understand it. He was just overwhelmed to have been a part of it.
People began to slowly fill the palace hall as day darkened to evening. Baron turned to Ariadra with a sigh. He didn't care if he ever saw another soul for the rest of his days. She squeezed his arm tightly, resting her head on his shoulder.
Blair emerged, spotting them and coming to join them without a word. Baron glanced over, seeing the bruising and cuts around his brother's throat. Blair met his gaze and reached up to rub his neck.
“Sorry for that,” Baron said.
Blair smirked.
“Keep your eye on this one,” Blair said to Ariadra. “If not for his Builder ability, I'd have been sure barbarian blood was flowing through his veins.”
Baron's head went back in laughter and Ariadra embraced her brother-in-law. But after a few moments, Baron breathed in deep and put his hand on his brother's shoulder.
“Thank you for not giving up on me, Blair.”
Blair nodded with a smile. Just then, Durian came and joined them, standing beside them without a word. He couldn't stop marveling. It didn't seem possible that despite their doubt and despair, they had done everything they'd needed to carry out the plan of King Euthor.
“Will you come with me to Suriya?” Blair asked Durian at length.
“You're going home?”
“Yes. I want to see our parents and take some time to figure out what to do next.”
Durian considered the notion but shook his head slowly.
“I don't think I'll go back there. There's nothing for me in Suriya anymore.”
“What will you do?”
“I want to start a library,” he said. “I want to tell the truth about what really happened. I want to make sure the world never forgets who King Euthor and Sheyla were and what they did to help us.”
The group nodded their affirmation and Ariadra placed her hand on Durian's arm.
“When you're ready, I want to help you.”
“Thank you,” Durian said.
Sheabor emerged from the chamber room with Cora, walking slowly over to the group. Ariadra embraced Cora warmly, thanking her again for her compassion and kindness. The two had become fast friends. Baron looked Sheabor over with a smile.
“Seems like you could use a good vacation.”
“Good luck convincing him of that,” Cora said.
“Nothing a good night's sleep won't heal,” Sheabor replied.
The group laughed and Cora playfully rolled her eyes to Ariadra. But laughter seemed ill-fitting for the occasion and as the people of Forthura began pouring into the palace hall, the group watched silently.
“I've got to go soon,” Sheabor said. Then, turning to Baron and Blair, “I need you both to do something important at the end of the ceremony.”
Baron looked at him curiously. Sheabor opened his mouth to continue, but seemed conflicted on what he was about to ask.
“I need you to destroy the hammer.”
Blair was more than a little surprised.
“But it's been in your family for centuries,” Blair replied.
“It's too dangerous to keep it. Right now, it's the only thing left in this
world that can free Corcoran, apart from the two of you.”
Blair glanced to Baron for his thoughts. Baron's look was surprisingly stoic, for he had already considered the notion.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Blair asked.
Sheabor nodded slowly. He'd thought the matter through and wasn't going to change his mind.
“We'll do whatever you need,” Baron replied.
Sheabor bowed and turned to depart, walking to the front of the palace to join the members of King Froamb's court. As many as could be fit into the palace hall came and took their places and an ornately decorated coffin was brought forward and laid in the midst of the people.
Heralds waving the standards of Forthura and all the colorful array of the royal court surrounded the coffin. Though King Froamb had seemed juvenile at their first meeting, he had grown into the suffering servant for his people – the best a king can be. The world would miss him greatly.
For long minutes, the people silently gazed and gave homage to their king. After a time, King Froamb's aid, Archulus, came forward to speak.
“There will be dark days ahead, as must always come when a great king passes without an heir. For who is there among us worthy to replace him? And those who seek his title, will they do it to honor his legacy or with a groping hunger for personal power?”
Then he scanned the crowd.
“We will rely much on the friends we have made in recent days.”
Then he motioned for those who had been appointed to carry the coffin of King Froamb, Sheabor among the six men. On poles, they lifted the box onto their shoulders and carried it through the crowd of people, down the steps of the palace hall and toward the back of the city.
Sheabor struggled greatly because of his wounds, but he would not be deprived of such an honor. The whole city followed to the hallowed spot their great kings were laid to rest. Mounds of earth were arrayed with ever blooming flowers, even more colorful now in springtime. King Froamb was laid to rest amid much ceremony and a lament was sung. And soon the group moved back toward the palace hall.
When they returned, Sheabor stood up among the group. Taking his hammer in hand, he poured slowly over its features, those he knew so well. He read the poem he had known since infancy one last time. And somehow, even now, it touched him in a way unique until now.
I'll stay with her beneath the shade
And wait until the world's remade...
Sheabor marveled at the poem's true meaning. King Euthor had waited twelve centuries beneath the shade, but not to be brought back as the king among the living, but just to be reunited with Sheyla in death. Their spirits were finally together. What a sacrifice it must have been to risk never seeing her again to help those whom he would never meet.
Sheabor felt himself suddenly overcome with emotion, for long moments unable to continue. He motioned for Baron and Blair to join him, composing himself.
“The king who built this place, he devoted his entire life that we would remain ever free. We honor his memory by striving to model our own lives after his example.”
Then he motioned to Baron and Blair. They each grasped the handle of the hammer and placed a palm on the cool surface of the stone. As they exerted their ability, Baron felt his own strength magnified by that of Blair's.
For long moments, nothing happened as the stone strongly resisted their touch. But at length, it grew soft and pliable in their hands, melting slowly under their touch amid the hushed awe of the crowd. As the stone liquefied, they began to see another object resting in its depths, soon exposing it.
It was a small piece of the Soul Stone, the piece that had tied King Euthor's spirit to the hammer for a dozen centuries, now finally free to be with Sheyla. But as the hammer continued to dissolve, Baron exerted his ability into the Soul Stone as well, melting it along with the rest. Blair, up until that point, had been preserving it, not knowing what Sheabor intended for it.
But something was rising up in Baron that told him that the old world, with its giftings and powers, should rightly be kept in the past. Soon, the brothers held nothing but a handle of Candlewood, which they returned to Sheabor.
Then the ceremony ended. A blanket of venerable silence descended on the whole city, as its residents contemplated the recent happenings and what it meant to be a part of such historic events.
That night, Baron awoke with a start, sitting up in bed with beads of sweat rolling down his face, the vivid images still fresh in his mind. He had dreamed of Sheyla's tomb, of holding Ariadra's lifeless form in his arms, and the icy feel of her skin against his.
Glancing over, she was asleep beside him, breathing softly. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, though not to wake her. The warmth of her skin met his fingers and he sighed in great relief. But, putting on his evening robe, he quietly left his bed chamber and entered the palace hall, contemplating the feelings now coursing through him.
He was surprised to see another form standing atop the outdoor pavilion near the Athel stone. Walking to meet him, Sheabor turned with a smile.
“Can't sleep either?”
Baron shook his head.
“I just don't know when I'll be back to this city,” Sheabor said. “I wanted to savor the moments.”
“You're going back to the Banished Lands?” Baron asked.
“We have much to do,” Sheabor said. “Our people haven't known this kind of freedom since before the Great War.”
Baron smiled excitedly for him.
“What about you?” Sheabor asked. “You could start an academy with Ariadra and Blair – a school for potential Builders and Woodlanders. With Estrien's help, you might even build a training center for all the giftings of the old world.”
Baron nodded slowly, staring off over the distant plains.
“What is it?” Sheabor asked.
“Corcoran is still alive down there,” Baron replied. “If we find and train new Builders, there's always the chance that one day, one of them could grow powerful enough to free him from that vault.”
Sheabor seemed struck by the idea as though he had almost taken it for a given that Baron and Blair would want to spread their gifting. But Baron made a strong point.
“I watched my wife die in my arms,” Baron continued. “I watched a twelve hundred year old spirit take control of my body and then somehow, saw Ariadra standing before me again in the flesh. The old world, of Soul Stones and Builders and ancient enemies returning...maybe it's better if all that stays in the past.”
Sheabor seemed surprised at Baron's stance. It was a big decision to make and Baron had done it very quickly.
“Not everything Corcoran said was a lie,” Baron said. “When I was connected to his mind, I saw how his followers had been mistreated by the Three Houses in the old world. The Three Houses had become elitist, Builders only caring for the concerns of Builders, and the others no better. It was easy for Corcoran to gain a following among the many outcasts of that system.
That's why King Euthor's father, Cithran, spent his remaining days building the Illian city, to break down the walls that stood between the Houses and bring in those who never really belonged. I didn't understand why it was so important to them.
King Euthor took up that mantle when his father passed but it was too late. The seeds of discontent had already been sown. If we go back to those ways, training up the gifts of the Three Houses, we might find ourselves in the same position. I don't want to be responsible for that. I just want a simple life with Ariadra. I think we deserve that.”
Sheabor nodded slowly but then smiled wide, slapping Baron on the back.
“You've certainly earned it, haven't you?” Sheabor said. “I respect your decision.”
But Baron felt the weight of his words escaping his lips. If he and Blair did nothing, then the giftings of the old world would certainly vanish again, perhaps for all time. It would be the end of an age. They had everything they needed right in front of them to rebuild the old world.
> If they worked together, they could bring back everything the old world was. But Baron couldn't shake what he felt inside. Corcoran's people had genuinely been mistreated by the peoples of the old world. Corcoran had used their distress to his own advantage and become a warlord, wreaking havoc.
Though it wasn't Baron's decision alone, for his part, he wanted only to go back to the life he had found with Ariadra in Suriya, the life of helping those who had lost so much in the war. He had lived the dream he'd yearned for in his youth, of becoming someone important...someone worthy of respect. But now that he'd become such a man, his only goal was to do as Sheabor had spoken, to honor the memory of people like King Euthor by following their examples of selflessness.
New Beginnings
Sheabor and the others remained in Eulsiphion for many days, recovering from battle and holding onto the moments they shared together. Once they left this place, they could very well never see each other again. But Sheabor hoped they would.
He had spent many hours scouring the city and inquiring after Aravas and Faigean. He hadn't seen them since bursting into the Shade Stone Vault beneath the city. But all he could tell was that they had slipped away sometime just after the battle. It saddened him greatly, for he had become accustomed to their presence and wisdom. But they were the Keepers of the Wind again at last, no longer just immortal, but caretakers of the wide world, unconcerned with the meager affairs of mankind.
That afternoon, the trumpet sounded the arrival of another group of persons. Sheabor came to the front of the city, a wave of great relief and joy at seeing his oldest friend Straiah and the coalition warriors. He embraced his friend, but many were absent from the party, most notably Estrien. Straiah smiled at his friend's distress.
“She's fine,” Straiah said. “Last night we made camp near Dagron. When we assembled in the morning she was already gone. But she left a note saying she'd meet me in Eulsiphion.”
Sheabor nodded and smiled wide. That was just like Estrien.
“What happened in Kester?” Sheabor said.
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 114
