“I am no myth. I will show you.”
Pallin extended his hand for the king to come down and join him. The king descended slowly and walked toward Pallin. Pallin led him over toward the open doorway, to the Athel seated on the small pavilion. The whole group followed him, packing onto the small expanse of stone. The moon had just begun to rise in the west, and Pallin places his fingers on the silvery streaks of the Athel. His expression grew distant, and after many moments of maneuvering his fingers, he reached out and took hold of King Froamb's hand. The king's eyes opened wide with amazement as he gazed upon the places and lands surrounding his kingdom. Pallin had activated the Athel stone.
“I see the distant forest,” said Froamb, looking west. He turned his head slowly to the south. “I see...”
But he didn't finish his sentence. Instead, a deeply troubled look appeared on his face. Pallin released his hand and Froamb gazed at him gravely. What had he seen in the south along the plains, Durian wondered?
“Sheabor has not deceived you,” Pallin said softly. “The words he has spoken are a solemn truth.”
Then Pallin detailed his own story, of himself and the Three Windbearers giving up their powers and his detection of Malfur's powers on the breeze from beyond the lands of Suriya. Froamb walked slowly through the crowd and into the great hall. He ambled up the small flight of stairs and seated himself on his throne, his head in his right hand. All were watching the king now, who had become torn.
“What would you have us do?” Froamb said at last. Sheabor stepped forward from the rest.
“Malfur is yet unprepared,” he said. “He doesn't have support enough to wage war against this kingdom. Without Corcoran by his side, we may be able to defeat him.”
“Do you really mean to march a detachment of warriors to the deeps of Thob Forest, leaving my own people exposed to the wrath of the barbarian hordes?” Froamb asked.
“Malfur will not remain hidden behind the trees of the forest forever. Now that he knows some have followed him from the Banished Lands and have warned the Eastern Realm, he will move against your defenseless southern towns.”
“Leave us,” Froamb commanded. “And we will discuss what we have heard.”
Sheabor stared at the king for many moments, unwilling as yet to heed his demand and leave the chamber. But then he assented, and he and his companions bowed low and walked toward the large silver doors, which were opened for them. As they departed the hall, Durian heard many voices erupt in discord over what they had heard. But soon the doors were closed behind them and Durian and the others were outside beneath the stars in the cool night air. They descended the stairs toward the main road and Sheabor began to pace back and forth.
“Pallin, your lands are weak. When Straiah and I set off from the Banished Lands, our goal was to rouse the noble Houses of Men, both Kester and Forthura, and seek the three remaining Windbearers, imploring them to aid us in the fight against Malfur and Corcoran. But I have seen in Froamb's eyes that he does not intend to help us. And though you are willing, you no longer have the power to oppose Malfur. This realm cannot even stand against one of the foes who now march to challenge it; how could we possibly hope to defeat both? The Eastern Realm is ripe to fall.”
King Euthor
“What about Suriya?” Baron demanded. “They're defenseless.”
Pallin clenched his jaw.
“Perhaps it's best the three of you return home. You can warn your town and convince them to flee north before the siege begins.”
Baron was taken aback. Though his powers of persuasion were better than most, convincing an entire town to abandon their homes was an impossible task. It would never work. It felt like Pallin was brushing them off.
“Now you wait just a minute,” Baron said. “You dragged us into this. What if Sheabor came with us? They would believe him.”
The group glanced to Sheabor who paced back and forth at the base of the steps to the palace in great frustration, not even aware that the rest were speaking of him.
“Pallin, I need to see a map of your realm,” Sheabor insisted suddenly.
“Yes,” said Pallin. “The hall of records is in the center of town. I must go there as well. We have little time.”
Then he turned to Baron.
“We will not abandon your town,” Pallin assured. “Stay with us until a better plan presents itself.”
Baron wasn't going to leave their sight until they guaranteed him that help would come to Suriya. Durian was glad for Baron's fervor, for his mind was on other things. He had become completely enchanted with the mystery of a world he had never really known.
The group set off, Pallin leading them through the busy streets toward the center of town. Durian was surprised to see how many people were walking the avenues by night. The city was amazingly well lit with torches all around. And there were little parks scattered about with grass where many reclined. The contrast of the green grass against the white stone marbled red was strikingly beautiful. He had never imagined that such a place existed. What a wonder the old world must have been.
But his thoughts kept returning to the legend of King Euthor. There was so much mystery surrounding him, so much done so long ago by his hand that now affected their present world. Not only had he created the Hammer of Haladrin, which was the birthright of every lord of Cavanah to inherit, but he also created the orb which protected the powers of the three Windbearers, and another orb sitting in hall of Eulsiphion. What had he done with the Shade Stone that contained the powers of Pallin and the others?
Durian's mind was consumed with questions and he quietly pondered them as the group marched onward. They arrived at a large building that sat upon another small hillside. It was ornately decorated and was seated atop a flight of stone stairs. Pallin led them up to the building’s large metal doors, which creaked opened. There in the entrance stood an elderly man.
“Who seeks records at this hour?” asked the man.
“We have come from the palace on an errand for the king,” Pallin responded.
The man eyed them for a few moments and then motioned for them to enter. He led them indoors and grabbed one of two torches from the wall. The hall was one single room with a large, round wooden table in the middle. The table's edge was dark, cherry colored wood, but its center was inlaid with cream colored wood made to look like a large compass.
The room was smaller on the inside than Durian had expected. Everything was in disarray. The room contained only a few shelves which were filled to overflowing with books. Most of the books were scattered about the room, piled from floor to ceiling. But hanging against the far wall was a large map of the Eastern Realm. The map hung at eye level and was made of cloth. Durian thought it looked hand woven. He was taken aback at the skill it must have taken to construct. But more than that, Durian had never seen a map of the whole Eastern Realm before. Everything he had seen in Suriya only showed the southeastern corner of the continent. Suriyan maps ended abruptly in the north and the west, showing the outline of Thob Forest and the mountains surrounding Eulsiphion but nothing more.
Pallin set off, scouring the books and scrolls, clearly frustrated at the lack of organization roundabout him. Durian carefully studied the large map in front of him. Directly north of them now lay the barbarian lands with the scattered tribes of the Horctura. To the northwest on the far side of the continent was the Kingdom, Kester. North of them were the lands of Aeleos, the homelands of the Bearoc – the giants. The Kingdom of Forthura seemed tiny by comparison, occupying only the small southern peninsula of the continent.
“Pallin, whose lands are these by the far western coast?”
Pallin looked up briefly.
“Those are the lands of Kester, and their capital city, Delphirion,” Pallin responded.
“Is there safe passage?” Sheabor asked.
Pallin shook his head and continued his quest.
“I'm afraid not,” he said, unrolling a large scroll. “The only road is along
the northern edge of Thob Forest, through barbarian territory. They patrol those regions heavily.”
“All of this is their territory?” Sheabor said in great surprise. The region where the barbarian tribes dwelt was twice as large as the lands of Forthura.
“Yes,” Pallin answered, while quickly scanning a document then tossing it aside.
“What of their allegiance?” he asked. “What side will they take?”
“More than likely, they will take neither side,” Pallin replied.
“Are you sure of that?” Sheabor asked. “Malfur is more crafty than you know. The promises he could make them in return for their allegiance would be hard to resist.”
“You may be right,” Pallin responded, again thoughtful for the moment. “But do not fear. We have friends ourselves. Melanor, for instance, is a powerful ally, as is Aravas, Keeper of the East Wind, who has been dwelling there since the last age.”
“Where is Melanor?” Sheabor asked. “I don't see it on the map.”
“And you never will,” Pallin replied. “When they are told the news, they will have wise guidance and counsel.”
“Pallin, we don't need guidance and counsel. We need soldiers and arms. I cannot believe that we have traveled through ocean and ice and swampland and forest, only to be trapped by the high walls of a city!”
“Do not fear. Froamb speaks rashly at times, but I am confident he will do what he knows is right.”
“Let's hope so.”
“We still have time on our side,” Pallin labored to say while lifting a pile of books that looked especially weathered onto the nearby table. “Malfur knows we have come to Eulsiphion. He will not dare attack the city now. He will not dare attack the city now. And I doubt he will show his hand by attacking the smaller settlements like Suriya. He will occupy Thob Forest until Corcoran arrives. That will give us time to form a plan.”
The large doors creaked open before Sheabor could respond, and the man, Archulus, who had originally met them at the steps of the palace, came into the room.
“The king has ordered a banquet. It will be ready within the hour.”
The group left the hall of records behind, following Archulus down the small hill and off toward the palace. They had been in the record hall for less than an hour, but the streets were now mostly empty. The few citizens still at large in the city gazed warily at the group of outsiders being led toward the palace, making Durian suspect that word of their evil tidings had spread throughout the city. After walking the short distance toward the steps of the palace, Archulus led them back inside hall whose center table was fast filling with food.
Various distinguished guests had already gathered. The king had obviously invited the most important men of the city to hear and discuss what should be done regarding the news. Archulus led them to the middle of the table and motioned for them to sit down. They took their seats and waited for the rest to arrive.
Durian couldn't keep his eyes off the food before him. The array of delicacies was finer than anything he had ever seen. The sight and smell of them made waiting to eat almost unbearable. More people continued to enter and when the table was full, the king stood and held out his hands for the group to begin the meal. The feast began, turning Durian's mind from the cares of a troubled world. The others ate slowly, and King Froamb watched them silently, analyzing them. After a few minutes he spoke.
“Something troubles me,” Froamb began. “If what you say is true and Malfur alone still bears power to control the wind, how are we to counter him when he comes against us?”
Froamb's glance passed slowly from Pallin to Sheabor.
“I don't know,” said Sheabor.
Froamb then turned to address Pallin. “And there is no way for you and the other two Keepers of the Wind to regain your powers?”
“I have not as yet discovered the whereabouts of the orb containing our powers,” Pallin replied. “It could take many years to find, or it may never be found. It is buried with King Euthor in his hidden grave, somewhere out in the wide world.”
Froamb nodded and glanced around at those of his table.
“It seems we have but one reasonable option. Malfur will not attack Eulsiphion as long as he knows another Keeper of the Wind is here. To leave would be folly. Our best hope is to hold our ground here and give the other kingdoms a chance to learn of the treachery of Malfur and Corcoran. Perhaps in time, even the barbarians will join our cause.”
“And what if the Horctura join Corcoran?” Sheabor asked, standing to his feet.
Before Froamb could reply, the large metal doors began to creak open. Durian turned to see a pair of guards leading an older man and a young woman into the great hall. The two walked with grace and elegance, gliding softly across the hard stone floor. They came to the head of the table and stopped.
“I am Thalen,” the man declared. “This is Estrien. We are from Melanor.”
Many hushed whispers erupted from those seated at the table. The young woman bowed and then gazed around the table.
“Melanor,” Froamb said in surprise. “None have ever called on us from Melanor.”
“The time has never before been right,” Thalen responded.
As the pair approached the table, Straiah suddenly arose, offering his seat to the new arrival, Estrien. The exchange was a bit awkward, since empty seats were available at the table. Straiah flushed red as he stood behind the chair, waiting to Estrien to occupy it and then pushing it in behind her.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
Thalen was also offered a seat of higher honor, closer to the king. When seated, Thalen addressed them.
“If you will allow, good King, we will explain ourselves. Our people have always been adept at reading the stars for signs, signs of famine or war, or great change in the heavens. Over a decade ago, the sign of the ancient enemy appeared among the stars in the heavens. At first, we disbelieved. But another sign soon followed of war and death. Since that time, we have become ever watchful, scanning the world for signs of the ancient enemy. Only too soon did the creeping darkness appear in the south, concealing its presence with fog and shadow.
We have used the decade well. We created a school in the art of combat for the day when Corcoran might appear. Estrien is our finest disciple. She is here to aid the cause of the two who have come from the Banished Lands to warn us, and to be the guardian of Pallin the Wanderer.”
Pallin rose to his feet.
“Does Aravas know of the treachery of Malfur?”
“No,” responded Thalen. “We have just learned. We are grieved to hear that Malfur is in league with Corcoran. That news will prove most devastating to Aravas, and to all. Malfur has no challenger now to oppose him.”
“Yes,” replied King Froamb. “That is the plight before us.”
Estrien's seat was next to Durian. Though he tried not to stare, she captivated him by her elegance. She had flowing blonde hair, accented with a white tiara, and wore a green silk gown which matched her eyes. Being from a small town, Durian had never met someone like her before.
Durian quickly glanced away when her eyes met his. Separate conversations had begun all over the table. Thalen now spoke with Sheabor and Pallin, and Estrien leaned over to Durian.
“You have the look of a Suriyan,” she said.
Durian looked back at her in surprise.
“I have been to Suriya,” she continued, “and to the Shelengol Glades.”
“You have?”
“In Melanor, we are allowed once to leave and journey to a place our heart has longed to see,” she replied. “I visited the 'Land of Sunshine,' and the glades in late autumn. They remain now in my heart. It is shameful that evil has found a place to dwell and prosper there.”
“When did you come to Suriya?” Durian questioned. “I don't remember hearing about anyone coming from the hidden city!”
Estrien smiled.
“We do not announce our presence and heritage. We dress modestly, as wayfarer
s and lonely travelers.”
“Have others from Melanor traveled to Suriya?” he inquired.
“Many,” she replied. “But over a long course of time.”
Durian thought long about any he might have seen in the past that stuck out and didn't belong. But try as he might, he couldn't remember anyone in particular, save for Pallin.
“Why do you only get to leave once?” Durian asked, not realizing the barrage of questions coming from his lips. Estrien smiled and answered him politely.
“The people of Melanor still possess their skills from the First Age. But our skill is weak now, and we cannot allow influences from the outside world to come and destroy the little we have managed to save.”
“Pallin told us about the talents of the wise before the Great War,” Durian replied. “He said that some had speech so fair and graceful that it contained the very words of life and could make things come alive.”
“Quite true,” Estrien responded. “Though I had to undergo many years of training, now every weapon I carry responds to the sound of my voice. They will come alive if I call, to aid me in battle.”
Her words seemed out of place. Everything about her was graceful and fair. Durian couldn't imagine her as a warrior. She must have seen it in his expression.
“Do not be misled, my fine young Suriyan,” she said. “Though we of Melanor are for peace, we understand that there are some who would rather die than live in peace. We have trained ourselves for battle in order to grant them that wish, if they will not be dissuaded from it.”
Durian's mind was fascinated. To hear not only that Melanor was real, but that those from the hidden city had been among them all along. It was almost too much to consider. But before Durian could pose another question, she interjected.
“How did three Suriyans come to be involved in this adventure?”
“We have my brother here to thank for that,” responded Blair. “We got lost in Thob Forest and were rescued by Sheabor and Straiah.”
Estrien looked up to Straiah, who was already gazing in her direction.
“Thank you, sir, for your courage in risking your lives to warn our peoples.”
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 11