The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  “I said halt!”

  Sheabor reared up and swung down at the barbarian. Throwing Pallin to one side, he blocked Sheabor's blow and another. But being caught by surprise, Sheabor made quick work of him.

  Sheabor came over to Pallin and helped him to his feet. Rubbing his throat in a bit of shock, Pallin offered his thanks. The others ran up to join them.

  “How did you know he wouldn't kill Pallin?” Blair asked.

  “He knew I was the one that Malfur was after,” Pallin responded.

  Sheabor surveyed the scene for the horses. Most had fled, but three were in sight. The barbarian whom Baron had struck with a rock still lay unconscious on the valley floor, and they were content to leave him as such. Mounting the three horses, they soon found a fourth and fifth and were riding away speedily north.

  Soon they would curve west, when the landscape leveled enough to traverse it. For now, the high cliffs overlooking the Kingdom, Forthura, pervaded.

  “We must make for the Gap of Skultira!” Pallin shouted and pointed at the ominous mountain rock, cleaved in two. The group veered directly into the heart of the barbarian kingdom.

  The Return to the Highlands

  Straiah ran toward the looming mountains of the Squall Highlands, the Hammer of Haladrin gleaming in the darkness. He clenched it tightly, knowing Pallin had been right about its fate. Sheabor's hammer was more important than anyone or anything. Without it, the Windbearers would never regain their powers and the Eastern Realm would fall to the rule of Malfur and Corcoran.

  His mind raced to form a plan. What was he going to do after finding Estrien? Would they still have time to catch up to Sheabor and Pallin? How could he put the welfare of Estrien above the fate of the kingdom? But every time he thought about her gentle elegance, it brought a rush of feeling he had seldom experienced.

  Soon the sparse grasses gave way to the stony highlands. The fog hung thickly overhead as he entered the scattered arena. It was the same as before, yet somehow different, as though the pieces of the board had somehow rearranged themselves. A malevolent presence seemed just out of sight, hovering in the mist and watching him carefully.

  Straiah didn't have time for this. Coming to a nearby spire of stone, he smashed the base with a handful of blows, sending it to the earth with a mighty crash.

  Straiah continued on, striking stones as he went until finding his way at length to the other end of the arena, where a handful of corridors lay. But it was different than he remembered. Coming to one of the corridors, he peered down it.

  “Estrien!” he called down it.

  The wind seemed to float back through the passageway, playing off the walls like a gleeful laugh. Straiah set off down the winding corridor. It snaked along this way and that, and coming round a corner, suddenly, in the pathway was a skeleton, half buried in the middle of the path. The wind swept past him, again carrying the faint laughter of some malevolent force.

  His heart beat quickly. It couldn't be Estrien. The world seemed to suddenly spin and he leaned against the stony wall for support. The mist undulated thickly above him. Time seemed like a foreign thing in this place, locked in an eternal, dismal now of some shadow plane of existence.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, gripping the hammer ever more tightly and setting off again. The wind whistled down the pathway and halted him in his tracks. It seemed to carry the familiar voice of Estrien. He stopped and listened. Again with the whistle of the breeze came her voice calling his name.

  “Estrien!”

  But nothing more. Straiah sprinted forward darting around the endless bends. Then, coming round a corner, the pathway ended abruptly at a sheer cliff. Straiah tried to stop, but it was too late. His legs locked and he fell to the ground, his shoulder impacting hard as his body slid forward over the edge. He reached desperately with his free hand for anything to grab hold of, but there was nothing. The dust was too slick.

  In a final effort, he dragged the tip of the hammer along the ground at the base of the wall. It wasn't enough to stop him. But the hammer caught hold of the edge of the wall and stuck fast. Dangling by one arm above a massive precipice, his shoulder burned and tore. He reached upward to grab hold of something with his free hand, but felt the hammer slipping, and stopped. Straiah closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  When he opened them again, he analyzed his surroundings. There was a foothold against the cliff near him. Reaching his foot to make contact, his toe slipped from the edge and he grimaced in pain at the jarring which threatened to dislocate his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he extended his foot slowly until reaching the foothold. Putting pressure down and relieving his shoulder, he found a handhold.

  Climbing the short distance back onto the ledge, he laid down on his back for many moments, watching his breath dissolve in the cold mountain heights. He couldn't believe that such a place as this existed.

  When he arose, he looked out over the distant expanse. Eulsiphion was far below, shining like a star in the darkened plains, the enveloping cloud gone. It looked at peace. Departing once more, he came to the junction of passages. Straiah chose another and darted down it.

  But this one quickly dead ended. Frustrated, Straiah yelled and smashed a hole into the smooth wall. Hitting it again just above, Straiah realized suddenly that he could make his own handholds. Though the wall stretched upward and out of sight into the mist, it might be only a low wall.

  Smashing small holes as he went, Straiah ascended upward in the left side corner of the wall, using both sides to scale the wall with ease. After a short ways, the mist enveloped him. But the wall soon ended and he climbed down the other side into a different corridor.

  Running down this one, he suddenly stumbled into the beautiful form of Estrien. He almost couldn't believe it.

  “Straiah!” she exclaimed.

  “Estrien! I thought I'd never find you.”

  He bent down and embraced her tightly.

  “Did you rescue Pallin?”

  “Yes, he's with the others,” Straiah responded.

  “Where are they?”

  Straiah straightened his posture and took a deep breath.

  “I had to leave them,” he replied. “They went north, through the lands of the Horctura, toward Kester and the Bearoc.”

  “What's happened?” she asked. “I don't understand.”

  “Let me free you, and I'll explain everything.”

  With that, Straiah raised his hammer. He swung down with all his might, driving the point of the hammer into the solid ground near her waist. The ground didn't shatter, and the tip sank downward, as though he had struck soft clay. Straiah tugged on the handle, but the hammer was stuck fast in place. He pulled with all his might, but the hammer didn't budge. Panic hit him.

  “It's stuck,” he said.

  “What? You have to free it!”

  Straiah glanced round. There was a mid sized stone nearby. He took it in his hands. It was almost too much to bear. Straiah stood over the hammer with the stone. Summoning all his strength, he raised the stone above his head with a roar. Then he threw the stone down onto the handle. The stone's heavy weight jarred the hammer free, flipping it through the air, narrowly missing both him and Estrien. Straiah sighed in great relief and took the hammer in his hands.

  Raising it once more above his head, he hit the hardened ground, this time with the flat end of the hammer. The ground cracked a bit on impact. Estrien grimaced in pain. Straiah struck the ground again, and this time Estrien let out a yell. The impact of the hammer was sending jarring waves of force through the hardened rock. He would break all her bones before he ever freed her. He looked at her in desperation, the image of the skeleton half sunk in the ground frozen in his mind.

  “You need to leave me behind,” she said, her face stern but her eyes betraying fear. “You can't risk losing the hammer.”

  Straiah hesitated, drawing heavy breaths of cool night air as the moments slid by. His mind was racing.

  “G
o!”

  Straiah turned round and called out into the night.

  “I'll smash this whole place to the ground!” he yelled. “Do you hear me!”

  And with that, Straiah smashed the hammer into the wall beside him, sending a crack upward and away into the mist. Then he set his sights toward the end of the corridor where the arena of stone lay with its many spires and boulders.

  “It's loosening!” Estrien exclaimed.

  He spun round and ran to her as she pushed herself free. Whatever dark forces were at work in this place, they were more content to lose a prisoner than see Straiah on the loose with the Hammer of Haladrin.

  Straiah pulled Estrien up from the ground and into his arms. They hugged tightly for many moments, and then she stared deeply into his eyes, stroking his cheek with her fingertips.

  “You reckless man,” she said, shaking her head.

  He smiled. But then her gaze turned serious.

  “Why didn't the rest come back this way?” she asked.

  Straiah took a step away.

  “Things are worse than we had imagined,” he said. “I'm afraid we've underestimated Malfur. Kidnapping Pallin was just a ploy to get him and us away from the city, while he and the Horctura attacked it. As far as we can tell, Eulsiphion has fallen. Sheabor and the others went northward while they could, with the barbarian horde down in the valley. They're hoping to keep ahead of them.”

  “But the hammer...” she said. “We can't let it fall into Malfur's hands.”

  “And we won't,” he encouraged. “Even now, Sheabor and the others are heading northward through the barbarian kingdom. They're sure to have encounters with them. When word reaches Malfur that some have passed that way, he'll never suspect that two have stayed behind in the highlands. He won't search for us here.”

  Estrien clenched her jaw and looked down at the dusty ground.

  “You shouldn't have come back for me.”

  Straiah searched for words as he gazed at her defeated countenance.

  “I had to,” was all he could say.

  She raised her eyes to meet his and nodded amid misty eyes. He closed the distance between them and stared into her green eyes. Then he kissed her. And for a brief moment in the desolate, stony highlands, everything was perfect.

  “We need to keep moving,” Estrien said at length.

  “We'll find a quiet place to hide for awhile.”

  “I don't want to just hide,” she said pushing away from him and turning round. “My duty is to protect Pallin. You can't know what an honor it was to be given that responsibility. We can't just wander the highlands while Pallin and the others face danger and death.”

  Straiah said nothing, but stepped behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She pulled away from him and walked forward. But she didn't get very far. Estrien heard it only a moment before Straiah and drew her sword quietly from its sheath. At first they couldn't tell what it was – a faint sound echoing down the corridor. Straiah came forward and stood next to Estrien, hammer poised to strike. It sounded like footsteps and muffled voices, but Straiah had been tricked more than once in this cursed place.

  Straiah motioned to head a ways down the passage to find a more concealed location. If it was barbarians or Dungeon Core, avoiding them would be better than a confrontation. Coming to the crossroads, the arena of scattered boulders and spires came into view. Straiah darted to one of the boulders. They could lose themselves easily here. But as they darted from boulder to boulder, a familiar voice called out.

  “Stay together men, and stay close,” said the voice. “There's something foul amiss.”

  Straiah looked to Estrien in wonderment. It was King Froamb. Straiah stepped out from hiding, startling those who stood nearby.

  “Sire, look!” said one of them. “It's one of the men from the Banished Lands.”

  King Froamb came forward.

  “Straiah!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  “We tracked Pallin's kidnappers here. Sheabor and the others have gone on ahead. We saw the attack on Eulsiphion from afar. What happened?”

  “Eulsiphion has been overrun,” the king responded. “We are the few who have escaped.”

  “Who attacked the city?” Estrien asked.

  Froamb shook his head slowly. It seemed he didn't fully know.

  “It came just before midnight, moving east across the open plain, against the wind. At first, it seemed nothing more than a bank of fog, a mass of darkness clinging low to the ground. But as it crept closer, an icy stillness settled over us, chilling each man to the bone, as though an angel of death was drawing near. We shot volleys of arrows into the mist to rout out whatever lay hidden within its form. But never did we hear a sound. So we waited.

  Then the fog reached the outer wall. It enveloped us, a mist so thick that soldier lost sight of soldier, though they stood but paces apart. And as the fog poured over our walls, the very city began to change. The stone darkened wherever the mist touched it, as though a presence stronger than ours was in the fog. Spikes of ice and snow fell from the heavens. The soldiers shot wildly into the mist, even as the barbarians were already climbing onto the wall. They swept over our wall as one, barely losing a man. We fought them, but it was too late. I ordered the retreat to the palace.

  We would have perished there, the rest of us, but for a stroke of fate. When the few survivors were sealed inside the palace, one of the soldiers found something we couldn't believe; an open passageway in the inner chambers. It was our only hope. It brought us out behind the falls of Siphion, between the lake and Squall Highlands. We knew we would never make an open trek through the plains undetected. And so I led us here, into the highlands, to hide until the time becomes right to reclaim Eulsiphion.”

  Straiah glanced in surprise at Estrien.

  “Does Malfur know of your escape?” Estrien asked.

  “He must,” King Froamb replied. “We sealed the passage behind us, but we need to keep moving all the same.”

  “Where?” asked Straiah.

  But King Froamb didn't answer him. There were too many of them to hide, and to the north lay the barbarian kingdom. It looked as though several hundred people were with him, many of them women and children. Straiah turned to Estrien.

  “I think we only have one choice,” Straiah said. “You need to take us to Melanor.”

  Estrien was shocked.

  “Melanor? No. I can't.”

  “You said earlier that the Squall Highlands was one of the old roads to your city. North is the realm of the Horctura. South is now in the hands of Malfur. East is their only chance.”

  “The law of my people forbids it. To bring this many...I'd be outcast, or worse. You don't understand. If this many from the outside were to come to Melanor, our way of life – everything we've fought centuries to protect would be over.”

  Straiah stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, truly sorry for the position she was in. She stared down at the ground, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Why did you come back for me? Why couldn't you just leave and go with the others?”

  But before he could answer, she stole away, disappearing into the arena of stone. King Froamb stepped forward after her, but Straiah forestalled him with an arm across his chest. King Froamb turned with a smirk, not accustomed to being roughly handled.

  “Just let her alone for awhile.”

  King Froamb joined the bulk of his forces, encouraging them in the good fortune of finding Estrien and Straiah. Straiah, meanwhile, followed slowly in Estrien's direction. Hearing him approach, she turned.

  “Estrien, what are we going to do?”

  “We don't have a choice. I won't condemn these people to their deaths.”

  “I'm sorry,” was all he could say.

  There was much he wanted to tell her in that moment, that he knew exactly what she was feeling – what it meant to be separated from everyone she loved because of duty. He had made that sacrifice to follow Sheab
or across the icy strait after Malfur to warn the Eastern Realm. But he didn't really have anyone back on the Banished Lands. His parents and sister had been killed in a raid by the Dungeon Core, long ago. Sheabor had looked after him like a brother. Sheabor was his only family now.

  Estrien said nothing more but brushed past him to rejoin King Froamb and the others.

  “There is a narrow pass that begins at Mount Kongol, south of here. Our journey will not be an easy one. There are many dangers along the way. Keep close to each other and take plenty of rest. Straiah will keep watch at the rear.”

  Her last declaration stung. She was leading them south. If they were to encounter danger, it would most likely come from head on, not behind. But she didn't want to be near him.

  Estrien set off without another word. Straiah hung back, away from the group, the weight of his choices falling hard on him. When he had asked Sheabor for the hammer, he had done so knowing that he was placing the world in jeopardy. Now, all his visions of a grand rescue were shattered. Estrien would have rather died honorably and there was nothing Straiah could do to bring the hammer back to Sheabor. What had he done? At least the hammer would be safe in Melanor.

  But even that brought a streak of fear. If Malfur somehow deduced that the hammer was in Melanor, Straiah had just placed Estrien's home in great peril. Straiah was lost in thought, scarcely noticing his surroundings as the group passed from the foggy maze and traveled down to where the narrow road came up from Siphion Falls.

  They traveled with great care, knowing the barbarians and Dungeon Core could spot them. But their course soon led again to the range's interior, and away from prying eyes.

  By morning, their pathway seemed to end at a sheer mountain face. From a distance, Straiah saw Estrien pass her hand slowly along the mountain face, walking along with eyes closed until something caused her to stop. Then, placing both hands upon the wall, she began to speak in the ancient tongue.

  After a few moments, the loud sound of stone grinding on stone emanated from deep within the mountain face. The wall in front of Estrien began to part, and a narrow pathway was revealed. Estrien gazed slowly around until her eyes landed on Straiah.