The Squall Highlands
Moonlight filtered brightly through the clouds and down on the plains the six companions sped through. Even by night, Straiah and Sheabor had little difficulty following the group of Dungeon Core. Their pathway was keeping along the face of the mountain range, on the small strip of land that lay between Shay River and the mountains of the Squall Highlands. They ran for quite some distance, until Sheabor suddenly stalled and held up his hand. The rest came to a halt. Sheabor's eyes were closed and his hand was raised for silence as though listening for something. Then he lowered his hand and studied the ground intently.
“They have taken a pathway into the Squall Highlands,” he said, motioning with his hand to a somewhat steep grassy trail.
“That doesn't make sense,” said Straiah.
Sheabor nodded in agreement. Surely the Dungeon Core were taking Pallin to Malfur in Thob Forest.
“What lies in this direction?” Straiah asked Estrien.
“Nothing,” she responded. “Unless one intends to find Melanor. This is one of the old pathways.”
“Then it's got to be a diversion,” Straiah concluded.
“I don't think so,” replied Sheabor. “I heard the sound of many footsteps on the mountain. And there aren't any tracks leading away from here, not even concealed ones.”
“Didn’t Pallin say that the people of Eulsiphion once used the Squall Highlands as a road to the barbarian lands?” Durian broke in. All eyes turned to him. “He said they sent an envoy and that they were ambushed in the highlands.”
“Perhaps the questions should be kept for later,” Estrien spoke up. “For now, we know they have taken Pallin this way.”
The group set off, the ascent steep and winding. Durian's muscles burned as the three Suriyans struggled to keep pace. The mountains overhead stretched far into the night sky, illuminated by the moon and lightly sprinkling starlight. All was silence from Eulsiphion. The city was seated afar off now, glowing faintly against the flowing waterfall. The battle with the barbarians seemed over. It was all just a diversion to capture Pallin.
As time went on, the grass of the trail gave way to the bare rock of the mountain. The pathway wound around many bends, one of which offered their first glimpse of the north – the vast, sweeping realm of the Horctura. Though difficult to discern its features in the darkness, Durian thought he detected tiny dots of light. It could have been the torches of the barbarians who fled the battle. Durian couldn't say.
That was the last glimpse of the outside world, for their pathway made a sharp turn into the interior of the mountains. High walls of rock rose up around them, and in the lonely corridors of the mountain, a thick fog spread out overhead, obscuring the light of the moon.
“Just what we need,” Baron declared. “More fog.”
“Be silent, Baron,” said Sheabor.
The mist was strange, hovering like a low-lying cloud just above them.
“Be very cautious now,” said Estrien. “There is a strange magic at work in the Squall Highlands. Do not trust the ground and do not become separated.”
“What is it?” whispered Straiah. “What's out there?”
“Long ago, some from Melanor sought the highlands as a place of solitude and contemplation. Those who came here never returned. Something happened. We're not sure what. We sent others to search for them, and these also disappeared. None from Melanor come here now.”
The narrow passageway finally opened into a wide and level arena of stone. Solitary boulders and spires of stone were peppered about, some stretching upward into the mist. The ground was strangely dusty here, and each step brought a small eruption of very fine dust into the air, which swirled about their feet and settled again around them. Sheabor walked a few paces and came to a halt.
“Something's wrong. The tracks have disappeared.”
“Did they take another route?”
“No,” Sheabor replied. “Something in the dust is covering them. Even our own tracks are hidden.”
“What should we do?” asked Baron.
“We'll have to quicken our pace.”
“Sheabor, that is not wise,” said Estrien.
“We'll stay close. Come on.”
And with that, Sheabor set off. The three Suriyans were quick to follow, then Straiah and Estrien. Sheabor zig-zagged his way around the boulders and spires, attempting to keep a relatively straight course. But despite his efforts, it felt to Durian as though they were being shuffled in a particular direction.
They ran this way for many long minutes, the arena of stone yet to end. Durian passed a boulder he thought he recognized. Or was it his mind playing tricks on him?
Sheabor halted and surveyed the scene. Unsheathing his hammer, he brought the tip into the side of the boulder nearest him, leaving a fractured hole in its face. Then he set off again, periodically leaving his mark.
After a short while, the group ran past a boulder that Sheabor had struck. He halted again momentarily, then set off in a new direction. Durian felt dizzy and completely lost. What a horror it would be to be trapped here alone. But at length, the group cleared the arena and came to a high mountain face stretching upward into the mist. In the wall of stone were four corridors.
Sheabor and Straiah searched the ground for any clue. But the dust still worked against them.
“We need to split up,” Sheabor declared.
“No, we must not separate,” Estrien replied.
“If we stay as one and choose the wrong passage, Pallin is lost forever. I will take the Suriyans with me. You and Straiah search the right hand side.”
Before Estrien could protest, Sheabor burst down one of the left hand passages, followed by the three Suriyans. The passageway was narrow and winding, and the mist still clung overhead. Durian's unease was growing and his feet ached from darting back and forth around sharp corners. Everything told him they were walking into a trap.
Sheabor darted around a corner and suddenly yelled out in fright. Before he could react, Durian came around the same corner to find Sheabor at the edge of a cliff, wavering, trying desperately not to fall. Durian's knees locked and he slid forward, ducking to his left to avoid a fatal collision. His left shoulder hit the wall but his right shoulder knocked into Sheabor. Sheabor began to fall and Durian lunged to grab the back of his collar, his left hand holding onto the wall. But Sheabor was too heavy.
Durian yelled, his fingers scraping ineffectually against the stony wall, about to lose hold. His fingers were inches from the edge of the wall. But a hand grabbed the back of his shirt, holding Durian in place for the moment. But Durian's fingertips were cramping and about to give way. The weight of Sheabor was too much. Baron, who held Durian's shirt, was sliding toward the edge.
“Blair! Grab onto something!”
“Hurry!” Durian yelled.
“I'm trying!” Blair called out.
Durian could feel his fingertips failing from fatigue. They were the only thing stabilizing them.
“Blair, pull!” Baron yelled. “On three!”
Baron yelled a quick count and Durian felt a strong tug on his shirt. Durian threw his weight back in tandem and fell to the ground in a tangled thud with Baron and Blair. Sheabor staggered back a few paces and likewise fell into the group. He laughed as he sat up in the dirt, but the rest were less than amused.
Durian's face was covered in beads of sweat. He lay in the dirt, eyes closed, waiting for his heart to slow. Only paces away from them was nothing more than a thousand foot drop. After a few moments, the group stood to their feet. As they did, something below in the vast distance caught Durian's attention.
“What is that?” asked Durian, finger pointing.
Meanwhile, Estrien and Straiah moved along another passageway, silent as they listened for sounds of the Dungeon Core. But only the shuffling of their own feet was heard. It was strange that the Dungeon Core was able to keep ahead of them.
As Straiah pondered, the ground gave way beneath Estrien's fee
t, and she yelled in fright as she fell into a hidden hole. But she didn't go far, for her feet hit solid ground after a short drop, as though she had stepped into a barrel of quicksand. Straiah stopped and bent down to help her up. Grasping her by the hands, he pulled to no avail. The ground had somehow solidified around her. She was trapped up to her waist in the middle of the pathway.
“What happened?” he said.
“I don't know,” she said. “I can't move.”
Straiah unsheathed his sword and thrust the tip into the ground just beside her. But it bounced from the surface, leaving hardly a scratch.
“Can you use your ability to free yourself?” Straiah asked.
Estrien placed the palms of her hands on the ground around her and began speaking in the ancient tongue. But as she did, she suddenly winced in pain, as though the ground itself resisted her call and tightened in response.
“Go,” she pleaded, at length. “Rescue Pallin.”
Straiah's heart beat quickly.
“Sheabor and the others might come this way,” she said. “He can free me with the hammer. Go. Now!”
Straiah hesitated. If he left her, he might never find her again. He bent down, taking one of her hands in his, and gently kissed it. He looked at her intently, but she didn't meet his gaze, and after a few moments, he turned and ran into darkness.
Straiah's mind raced as he moved down the winding corridor. The pathway opened up a bit into a small arena. But abruptly, the passageway ended at a sheer wall. Straiah, unwilling to backtrack, began climbing. But the dust all over the ground seemed to cover everything, like a slick film of oil. He made only a few paces headway before slipping down. He had no choice but to turn back.
Meanwhile, Sheabor, Durian and the twins stood high atop the cliff they had nearly fallen from. Before them were the lands of Forthura. Above Eulsiphion in the barbarian highlands, small points of light were converging into a line, a glowing serpent slithering toward the city.
“I thought the barbarians fled,” said Durian.
Sheabor watched silently for many minutes. As the glow of lights continued toward the city, from the east, a thick fog formed atop the plains, just outside the city. Within minutes, the fog had completely enveloped Eulsiphion.
“Come on,” said Sheabor.
What was happening? But the group set off down the winding corridor, coming back to the place where the four pathways met. Sheabor chose another and set off before Durian could stall him. Everything seemed wrong. How were the Dungeon Core navigating this maze with such success? And what was happening to Eulsiphion?
As they came around a bend in the road, there, stuck in the middle of the trail was a soldier half buried. The group halted and came round to the front of him. The soldier was one of the Dungeon Core and he was still alive. The three Suriyans marveled in fear over what had happened to him, while Sheabor locked eyes with the soldier.
“Tell us where your people are taking Pallin,” he demanded.
He was met with silence.
“Is Malfur with the Horctura?”
At that question the soldier lifted his head back and laughed. The landscape seemed to react to the laugh, as though the desolation itself was pained at the sound. The wind began to suddenly howl down the corridors. Durian thought he saw a slight tinge of fear in the man's eyes.
“Answer our questions and we will set you free.”
The soldier's eyes narrowed and he clenched his jaw, summoning his resolve.
“Perhaps a night alone, helpless, will loosen your tongue,” Sheabor said.
He sheathed his sword and moved off. Durian ran behind him, fearful of being left behind, but equally fearful now of the ground all around him. What had happened to the soldier? Durian followed closely in Sheabor's footsteps.
The group snaked their way through the mountain. Time seemed to stretch on. Everything looked the same and the fog hung above their heads, obscuring their view of anything beyond.
At length they came to an open arena of stone, not unlike the one before. Sheabor slowed as he analyzed the places ahead. But he tensed and held up his hand behind him, signaling the Suriyans to remain still. Then, silently drawing his sword from its sheath, he waited. Durian thought he heard the sound of boots on the stony floor.
The Suriyans crouched low against one of the boulders. Sheabor crept forward to the nearest boulder and raised his sword. As the sound neared, Sheabor stepped forward and swung his sword. But he suddenly dropped it mid-swing and stumbled toward the ground. Durian's heart beat quickly.
Just then, Straiah slid into view and came to an abrupt halt. Sheabor had nearly killed him. But Straiah was alone.
“Where's Estrien?” Durian asked.
“She's trapped. I couldn't free her. We need the hammer.”
“We'll go back for her once we've rescued Pallin,” Sheabor said.
Straiah clenched his jaw. But at length he nodded. Sheabor stepped forward and scanned the landscape. Judging from the direction Straiah had come, he set a new course. And though it seemed the wrong way to Durian, that was probably a good sign.
They ran through the arena until a change slowly came over the landscape, one which Durian didn't notice until after the fact. But the fog slowly lifted, an open sky of stars lay overhead, and grasses sprang up where only stony earth lay before. Then suddenly, a broad landscape of grassy hills and distant woods came into view. They had made it through the Squall Highlands at last! Turning round, Durian gazed at the looming mountains shrouded in obscuring haze.
“Thob Forest was a picnic next to this place,” Baron exclaimed. “Remind me never to leave home again without a compass.”
Blair and Durian chuckled.
“I see tracks!” Straiah exclaimed.
The group huddled around him to look. Then, staring off in the places before them, they looked for signs of the Dungeon Core. But the hills shrouded the nearby places. How had the Dungeon Core kept so far ahead of them? Without a word, Sheabor sprang forward into the night.
“Try to keep up as best you can,” Straiah said, jogging a few paces away. “If you lose sight of us, run directly toward the moon. If you run for longer than half an hour and do not see us, turn back to the mountains and wait for our return.”
Then Straiah sprinted to catch up with Sheabor. The three Suriyans met one another's uneasy glances at being left alone in the barbarian kingdom, but set off at a jog to the north. It didn't take long to lose sight of Sheabor and Straiah. The fear drove them for a time, but exhaustion soon took hold and they slowed.
“Why don't we just go back to the mountain?” asked Blair. “What sense does it make to wear ourselves out when we're just going to turn around and run the other way?”
Durian nodded, his hands on his knees. He arose and opened his mouth to speak, but something caught his attention. It sounded like swords clashing. Baron's eyes darted over his shoulders and then back to the group.
“Come on,” Baron said.
A shallow hill lay ahead, and the sound seemed to carry around it. Quickly climbing, Sheabor and Straiah were engaged with nearly a dozen Dungeon Core warriors just ahead of them. In the distance, over the next few hillsides, were dots of light. The barbarians were coming.
“Look!” said Blair...”I see Pallin!”
Lying motionless on the battlefield was the form of Pallin. Sheabor and Straiah fought with the Dungeon Core in the small hollow between two hillsides, bordered to the west by a small copse of trees.
“Let's get him!” said Baron.
“He's in the middle of the battle,” protested Durian.
But Baron paid no heed and ran down the hillside, sword drawn. Durian and Blair likewise followed him into battle.
“Baron!” Sheabor yelled. “Take Pallin to cover!”
Pallin was only a stone's throw away. Sheabor and Straiah were each locked with a separate handful of Dungeon Core soldiers. When Baron neared Pallin, two warriors broke to cut him off.
Baron, instead of
engaging the warriors, darted left and continued towards Sheabor. Blair, just behind, darted to the right around them toward Straiah. The warriors chased after for a short while, leaving Durian alone to go for Pallin. But the soldiers weren't quick to fall for the ruse and left the twins.
Durian reached Pallin and bent down to shake him awake, calling out his name. But Pallin didn't stir. The soldiers were nearly back to him. Durian arose and retreated away, followed by one of the soldiers. Baron attacked the group of warriors who fought with Sheabor. The soldier blocked Baron's blow, but Sheabor was quick to take the advantage and strike him dead. But the other soldier guarding Pallin had come up from behind and now flanked Baron.
“Baron!” Sheabor yelled as the swing came in, reaching to block it and save Baron's life.
Sheabor parried the blow, but the other warriors advanced on him. He turned to meet their blows, but the force of them knocked him to the ground. The other soldier, still flanking Baron, struck him with the back of his armored hand, sending Baron down in a wave of dizziness.
Straiah was engaged nearby with two warriors, having already dispatched one. Three soldiers were now standing over Baron and Sheabor. Blair was left alone between Pallin and Straiah. He sprinted for Sheabor and his brother, throwing his whole body into the middle soldier and tackling the group to the ground. Then he rolled and scrambled away right as a sword struck the ground he had just occupied.
The soldier pursuing Durian saw what was happening and turned round to help his comrades. Durian turned and moved carefully back toward Pallin. Sheabor and Baron wrestled with the three soldiers on the ground and Blair sprang to his feet. But one of the soldiers on the ground also arose and came after Blair, who quickly retreated toward the copse of trees.
Sheabor struck one of the warriors on the jaw with the hilt of his sword, dazing him. Baron was locked on the ground with the other warrior. He had the upper hand against Baron and was pushing his sword down dangerously close to Baron's throat. But Sheabor arose and struck him dead. Baron pushed him off and rose to his feet.
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 14