The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  The Swamplands

  “Sheabor, we should leave this place,” Straiah said. “We must not linger.”

  “And where will you go?” said Pallin, regaining his composure. “If it is as you say...if Malfur has a will of evil...if forces have returned from the Banished Lands and the three remaining Windbearers are now powerless to oppose them...then all is lost.”

  “We are going to Eulsiphion,” Sheabor declared. “We will gather the strength of the Eastern Realm and stand against this coming darkness. Stay here if you wish. Or continue your aimless wandering. But if you choose to come with us, we will help you reclaim your powers.”

  Pallin clenched his jaw and gazed at Sheabor. Sheabor sheathed his sword as he met Pallin's gaze, and after another moment headed off without a word, leaving Pallin behind. The others reluctantly followed behind. Durian kept glancing back to see if Pallin would follow them, but he saw nothing.

  “We can't just leave him!” Durian exclaimed.

  Sheabor didn't answer. Durian stopped and spun round to Straiah.

  “We have no choice,” said Straiah. “Pallin must decide for himself. Come on.”

  Straiah grabbed Durian, pushing him onward down the pathway. How could they just leave Pallin behind? But there was nothing Durian could do. He was surprised by their harshness towards Pallin.

  But then it dawned on him. Sheabor and Straiah must have been counting on Pallin and the other Windbearers as powerful allies in their fight against Malfur and Corcoran. To find the other Windbearers powerless was a crushing blow.

  The group moved quickly along the pathway, descending the winding mountain face to the forest floor. Straiah headed up the rear and when they were assembled, Sheabor set off without a word.

  “Wait,” pleaded Durian. “What if he changed his mind?”

  Even as he said the words, the form of Pallin came into view. He moved with remarkable speed down the mountain path and joined them on the ground.

  “I am sorry for my behavior earlier,” Pallin said in a strained tone. “I wish to aid you if I can. I will accompany you to Eulsiphion and guide you along safe pathways through Thob Forest.”

  “Very well,” said Sheabor. “What do you advise?”

  “If Malfur is as you say, on the eastern side of this mountain range, we ought to avoid him altogether. If we head north from here, we may yet pass him undetected. But this will take us deep into the heart of Thob Forest, into the marshlands where evils more sinister than Dungeon Core lurk.”

  “Lead the way,” Sheabor commanded.

  The group jogged along the base of the Estees Mountains, through the thin strip of forest between the mountains and the sea. But they quickly left the sea behind as the mountains turned inward.

  Midday had come and gone before the group left the shadow of the mountains. But once free and on the other side, the air changed, drawing in thick and warm around them and the mist cleared. They were approaching the inner swamplands of Thob Forest.

  “I think we are well away from danger,” Pallin said, stopping at a fallen log for rest.

  The three Suriyans were overjoyed.

  “The thought of Tobin's plow doesn't seem so bad anymore, I bet,” said Durian.

  Baron let out a laugh, but Pallin shot a gaze of disapproval at the disturbance. Sheabor smiled and turned to Pallin while Straiah produced dried meats from a pouch, handing them to all his companions.

  “Pallin, you said initially that you felt the power of Malfur from Eulsiphion. But then when you arrived at Suriya, it was gone.”

  “Yes, I have pondered that notion myself. The only explanation is that Malfur must have been using his powers to travel from the Banished Lands to the Frostlands. Once arriving at the Eastern Realm, he must have stopped using his powers, hoping to avoid detection by the Three.”

  “Then he has no idea that you and the other Windbearers gave up your powers?”

  “No, but he must suspect something,” Pallin replied.

  “Where are your powers exactly?” Sheabor questioned.

  Pallin shook his head. He didn't know. But Durian spoke up.

  “You said that King Euthor locked your powers up inside an orb of Shade Stone. There's an orb of Shade Stone in Eulsiphion, in the hand of the statue of King Euthor.”

  Sheabor shot an excited glance to Pallin.

  “So when we reach Eulsiphion, we'll use the hammer to unlock your powers.”

  But Pallin's brow furrowed and he grew thoughtful.

  “I do not believe that orb contains our powers,” Pallin said. “King Euthor made the Three one promise only – that he would take our powers with him to his grave and that no one would ever find them. I do not believe he would put them on display for all to see, especially with the knowledge that the Hammer of Haladrin was somewhere out in the wide world.”

  “Then what's inside the orb?” Durian asked.

  “None knows for certain. Legend says that the wedding rings of Euthor and Sheyla are in the orb, along with her Seer's necklace that she would use to find him when he was away from the castle. Tokens of the love they shared.”

  The Seer's necklace intrigued Durian but Sheabor spoke before he could inquire.

  “Pallin, where are the other Windbearers?”

  “Faigean is with the giants in the northwest, and Aravas is in Melanor.”

  “Melanor?”

  “The lost city of Kester, the Breath Givers,” Pallin responded. “It lies due east of Eulsiphion in a sheltered cove, hidden from sight. There is a pathway through the Squall Highlands. But none can find it except they who know the way. Melanor alone, of any, still possess their abilities from the Prosperous Age.”

  “They can still call objects to life?” exclaimed Durian.

  Pallin smiled.

  “Yes, though that is a rather brutish way of putting it. And not all of them possess the ability. It is a shadow only of what it once was.”

  At length, Pallin arose and the group set off, walking till late afternoon, when the ground grew spongy and soft. The air carried the tinge of murky water, and though the mist had long departed, in its place, a warm and foul haze hung about their feet.

  “Pallin, we should stop for the night,” Sheabor said. “Trudging through swampland is arduous work.”

  Pallin nodded and walked until a suitable spot was found. Straiah disappeared almost immediately, returning after dark with a string of fish on a pole. Durian marveled at his skill as a woodsman. More than a little exhausted, as soon as the three Suriyans had eaten, they fell fast asleep by the fire.

  They were tapped awake and arose, rubbing their eyes into focus. The glow of dawn was just entering the forest.

  “We will reach the dry side of Aridatha by midday,” Pallin declared, “largest of the swampland lakes.”

  The ground was wet and marshy, turning to mud by late morning. They journeyed on with difficulty, all the while Pallin declaring the lake was only a short way off. But by midday, the mud gave way to higher ground. A large lake lay to their right, sparkling deep blue in the full light of day.

  “That is Lake Aridatha,” said Pallin. “We should rest here.”

  Durian had never been to a lake before. The cool and crisp waters looked so inviting. He looked to Pallin eagerly, who smiled and nodded, extending his hand toward the lake. Straiah set off again in search of food, and the rest ventured toward the lake, taking a dip in the cool blue and washing the filth from their clothes and skin. Durian couldn't remember ever having been so dirty. When they returned, Straiah was waiting with a string full of fish. But they set off without cooking them. At length, they came round the large lake, descending back to the marshes until evening, when they finally left the swamps behind.

  “We should stop here,” Pallin said. “We must not venture too near Lake Enlath today.”

  “Why not?” questioned Blair.

  “For that is where Arathama lives,” Pallin responded. “Beast of the murky waters of Thob Forest.”

  �
��A monster?” questioned Straiah.

  Pallin nodded his head.

  “Straiah and I have met the likes of many beasts in service to Corcoran,” said Sheabor.

  “I can lead us along reasonably shallow pathways,” Pallin said. “Perhaps, with my guidance, we may yet avoid Arathama altogether.”

  Darkness descended on the forest. And though the evening came, a heat hung around them like a damp cloth. The moon was low in the west, its light filtering strongly through the trees. And the smell of cooked fish filled the air.

  Straiah handed Durian a roasted fish on a stick, and he wandered over to Baron and Blair, who sat nearby on a log, each with their own fish. Durian wasn't partial to fish any more than the twins, but being the only meat he could afford, he had accustomed himself to the flavor.

  “These freshwater fish aren't bad,” Durian said.

  Baron shrugged his shoulders and Durian chuckled.

  “Blair's spoiled you rotten with venison stew! Now you get to see the lot we lesser folk get to live with.”

  Baron smirked, but the mention of home made the three Suriyans pensive. Durian arose, walking the edge of their campsite, staring into the darkness while slowly eating, wondering just how far this adventure would lead them and how long it would be till Suriya was warned. A distant howl sprang out of the deeps and the crack of a nearby twig. He was struck by how much bigger and mysterious the world felt.

  A hand came down on Durian's shoulder, startling him.

  “We're off to bed,” said Blair.

  Durian nodded. Coming near the fire, they laid down on some leafy bedding and fell to sleep. But Durian awoke before long to the crackle of the fire. Pallin and Sheabor were sitting on the other side and having a conversation.

  Durian joined them and listened. Sheabor was asking Pallin questions about King Froamb, who ruled their kingdom from Eulsiphion. But a question arose in Durian's mind, and he waited for a good time to pose it.

  “Pallin, I'm confused,” said Durian. “I heard you say that Corcoran marched against the peaceful peoples of the land twelve hundred years ago. But Sheabor said they live in hiding from Corcoran on the Banished Lands. How can Corcoran still be alive?”

  “I would not believe it possible myself but for the assurances of Sheabor that it is so.”

  “Pallin, first tell what you know of Corcoran,” Sheabor said.

  “He was not always called Corcoran. His real name was Madrigan, which means 'Path-Maker.' His father was of the House of Cavanah and his mother from the House, Forthura, a union seldom seen in those days. As a young man, Madrigan set off to explore the many beauties and treasures of the lush world.

  But as he traveled the world, his strange ability began to grow. With his mixed heritage, he had abilities of both the Builders and the Woodlanders. Because of his Woodlander blood, his feet were drawn to all the world's fair places. But because of his Builder’s blood, he brought order to the wild.

  It was said that wherever he went abroad in the open world, the grasses and rocks receded and a path of simple dirt spread out before him. Many loved to wander the pathways created by Madrigan’s travels, for they always led to fair and undiscovered places of the world. It seemed as though his feet were called to all the hidden wonders yet unseen by human eyes. It was he who discovered the majestic Caves of Clinthia that ran beneath the old city of Illdegron.

  His ability grew in time, and sometimes, instead of a dirt pathway, his feet would leave behind something similar to a small cobblestone road. But as time went on, Madrigan began to speak of a mystical land, which he called Eskédrin:

  A vision I see often in my dreams, of a land in the west, fairer than any my waking eyes have perceived. How my feet long to forge a trail to this blessed realm. But must I go alone?

  It was then that many from the Three Houses began to follow Madrigan, that they too might share in the wonders of Eskédrin. There were many in those days without a place to call home. It was easy for Madrigan to gain a following. Then one day, suddenly, Madrigan and his followers left without a trace. There was no pathway left behind by the feet of Madrigan.

  Long years passed, until the wanderers were all but forgotten. But then, one fateful day, they returned to the peaceful realm, though not as they had left. Before them Madrigan still walked, but in his wake was a pathway not of cobblestone and dirt, but one of molten stone and fire. His power had grown dark and terrible, as had those who had followed him into the wilds. It was then that he gained the name Corcoran, which in the ancient tongue means, 'World-Splitter.'”

  Durian was awe struck by such a grand tale. But Pallin was gazing at Sheabor for his explanation.

  “Corcoran is not alive as you and I are alive,” Sheabor began. “Our people have seen him only a small handful of times through the centuries, an elemental form of molten stone and fire. When the world first split in two, the Banished Lands was moving westward, the oceans between the two realms growing. Corcoran realized this. He disappeared not long after the Great War ended. Our forefathers were convinced he perished.

  But Corcoran had delved deep underground. Some say to the very foundations of the Banished Lands. His body perished, but his spirit was tied to the continent. None knows how he did it, but slowly, he was able to alter the course of the Banished Land's drift from west, to southwest, to south, to southeast, and finally east.”

  Sheabor unsheathed his sword and drew on the ground.

  “This is an approximation,” he said, while drawing. “Undoubtedly the shapes are wrong, but you'll see the idea. The X is where we currently stand.”

  “He's moving the entire continent?” Durian asked. “How is that possible?”

  “None knows,” Sheabor replied. “But Corcoran's power has always been tied to the earth. From his earliest youth he had power to subdue and control the natural world around him. None knows how much his power has grown these past centuries.”

  “If he is a creature of molten stone, how do you kill something like that?” Durian asked.

  The question hung in the air.

  “Defeating Malfur first will surely weaken his plans,” Sheabor encouraged.

  “And how do you propose we do that?” questioned Pallin.

  “We'll have to march against his fortress in Thob Forest.”

  Pallin clenched his jaw.

  “Sheabor, that will not be an easy task. The king of Eulsiphion will not be quick to believe you. There is a reason those lands were called banished. If something had returned from there, it should not have happened in secret.”

  Sheabor eyed him inquisitively.

  “At the end of the Great War, the Bearoc, the giants of the north made a vow that nothing would ever return from the Banished Lands. They built great watchtowers from which they vigilantly watch the west.”

  The giants were something Durian had only heard of in myth and legend. Their lands were fabled to exist far to the north, beyond the realm of the Horctura and Kester, locked away behind tall mountain ranges and walls of stone. They were referred to as the Bearoc in the ancient tongue.

  “Sheabor, how did you and Straiah reach the Eastern Realm?” asked Pallin.

  “The Banished Lands are now only a hundred leagues southwest of your shores. When the continent had come close enough, Malfur set off with a large detachment of Dungeon Core. He froze the waters before them, creating a narrow pathway. We set out a day behind them, Straiah, I and one other. The pathway was already beginning to fracture beneath our feet. We lost the other, and almost lost ourselves. After weeks of travel, we arrived at a bitter frozen land of wind, ice, and snow.”

  “The Frostlands,” said Pallin. “That is why I felt his power there. You must have been southward enough to escape the Bearoc's detection. That is an unhappy accident.”

  Durian yawned as drowsiness again took hold.

  “You only slept an hour,” commented Sheabor. “Tomorrow will be a difficult journey. You ought to get your rest.”

  Durian nodded and arose
, walking to the other side of the fire. He laid his head down to rest and was soon asleep.

  He was the last to awaken. As he stood to his feet, Pallin was already laying out the day's course.

  “The upper swamplands of Thob Forest consist of four large waterways,” Pallin began. “In the middle is a small patch of dry ground, upon which we now sit. We have come by the southernmost lake, Aridatha. Three waterways still lay ahead, as does Arathama. His lair is in Lake Enlath, where a strange magic is at work. So be on your guard.”

  After a quick breakfast, they moved off, heading north. They moved quickly until midday, when Pallin cautioned that Lake Enlath was near. Straiah disappeared ahead, searching for any signs of the creature, Arathama.

  After midday, a change came over the forest. It was darker here, and colder, the trees themselves stretching higher, as if malevolently blocking what little sunlight could reach the forest floor. Durian could see something gleaming in the distance. It made his heart beat faster.

  They caught sight of a lake, smaller by far than Aridatha, but bordered entirely by boulders, making the water exceptionally clear. The gleam coming from the lake seemed elusive and other-worldly – one moment there, and the next moment gone.

  They walked near the southern edge of the lake. A small outlet trickled into a disconnected pool of water, which they passed close by. But Durian noticed a quick flash of bright color to his left. Curious, he lagged behind and walked around the small pool. Another flash of golden blue erupted from the middle of the pool, quickly dissolving.

  Standing there, Durian saw a fish gently flapping its tail as it wandered the confines of the shallow pool. Each motion of its fin erupted an array of color. Pallin and the others came up beside Durian.

  “The magic of Arathama,” Pallin declared. “He is near.”

  “It's incredible,” said Durian.