The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  “Sir, we've found something,” one soldier said.

  “Bring it to me.”

  Durian shot a worried look to Pallin, but Pallin gazed stoically at the soldier on horseback. The commander took Pallin's weapon in hand, analyzed it slowly and then dismounted. Removing his helmet, he walked over to Pallin, gazing intently at him for long moments.

  “Where did you get this?” the commander asked.

  “You would not believe me if I told you,” Pallin responded. “And it would make no difference if you did. You are not the kind of men who let honest travelers go on their way undisturbed.”

  The man seemed to take Pallin's declaration to heart.

  “Honest travelers,” he responded, taking a step forward a putting his face right up to Pallin's. “We will see.”

  Then the commander turned and mounted his horse. Durian and Pallin were forced after them and the group moved off toward Stillguard. Durian wanted desperately to say something, but the countenance of Pallin told him to hold his tongue. The only comfort was that the Shade Stone weapon had caused such a stir, the guards didn't continue searching them, but set off immediately back to the town. As far as Durian could tell, the men hadn't found the blue stone hidden in the folds of Pallin's garments.

  The town of Stillguard was just beginning to stir as Pallin and Durian were led through the streets under guard. Those they passed eyed them fearfully and suspiciously. Outsiders were clearly unwelcome. They were swiftly brought to a large wooden building in the center of town, the guard opening the door on their approach. They entered a large and open room, with flags hanging from the walls and two full suits of armor standing on either side of the room. There was a man at the opposite end of the hall. He glanced up at their approach and then resumed his work.

  “What is it, I'm busy,” he said.

  “Apologies, Captain,” the commander replied. “We caught a pair of poachers camping on the edge of the Espion Forest.”

  “Poachers,” the captain replied, annoyed. “Deal with them yourself.”

  “One of them had something special, a weapon of some kind.”

  The soldier produced Pallin's weapon, handing it to the captain who marveled as he examined it.

  “What shall we do with them?” asked the soldier, breaking the man's enchantment.

  “For now, the stockade.”

  With that, Durian felt a pair of powerful hands grab his arms and lead them away. Pallin and Durian were led through the town square and toward a large wooden building with two soldiers posted at the doors. On seeing their approach, one of the guards parted and unlocked the door with a large key ring. Durian and Pallin were shoved inside.

  The building's interior was dark and carried a foul odor. It had a single isle, with a trio of cells on either side, and a larger cell occupying the whole of the back wall, which was full of arrows, swords and other armaments. It was a prison and an armory.

  Durian was shoved into one cell, and Pallin another on the opposite side of the isle. Only one other prisoner was being housed, and he seemed to take no notice of them, asleep in the corner. Then came the clang of the loud metal doors. Durian turned to see Pallin facing away from him, head downcast. After a time, Pallin turned to him with a pained countenance.

  “I'm sorry, my boy. I've let us down.”

  Durian leaned against the metal bars.

  “It's not your fault Pallin. You couldn't have known.”

  Pallin sighed.

  “What are we going to do?” Durian asked.

  “What little we can,” Pallin replied. “We will escape unharmed, I am sure. But the weapon, I fear will be lost to their control. And without it, we may never gain access to the tomb of King Euthor.”

  Pallin sighed again and shook his head. The man in the other cell began to stir. He glanced to Durian and then to Pallin and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

  “Drunkards are you?” the man questioned.

  “Poachers, actually,” Durian replied.

  “Aye, poachers” said the man. “As though eating were a crime.”

  Durian nodded in pronounced frustration. He understood that the lord of the land claimed general ownership of the game and fish of the lands, but the Espion Forest was a very large place, and a few fish from somewhere far upstream didn't exactly constitute locking the two of them away in a cell.

  “Where'd they catch you then?” the man asked. “Out in the forest?”

  Durian nodded.

  “What about the rest of your brothers?” he asked.

  Durian looked at him in a bit of confusion.

  “Aren't you with them?” he continued

  Durian shook his head no.

  “That's bad luck for you then,” he said.

  “Who's out there?” Durian questioned.

  “Who's out there?” he exclaimed, slapping his leg. “Where are you from?”

  “Far away,” Durian answered.

  “The Brotherhood,” he replied. “That's who. They'd of protected you if you was one of em. But now I guess yer on yer own.”

  Mysteries

  “It isn't possible,” exclaimed Aravas. “The Bearoc have not strayed from their homelands in centuries.”

  “We would not have thought it possible ourselves,” Bowen said, dismounting his horse, “if we'd not seen it with our own eyes.”

  “Why do you say we are in danger?” Aravas questioned. “The giants have never meant us harm. Perhaps they're sending an envoy to inquire after us. Many dark things have happened here.”

  “They've already wiped out our easternmost outpost, just before entering the lands of the Horctura,” Bowen replied. “Whatever their intention, it is not for peace.”

  An eruption of murmuring ensued and King Froamb wore a very troubled look. The reports on the barbarian kingdom echoed what Bowen had spoken. But why would the giants attack the Horctura, and especially at a time like this?

  “We should retreat to the council chambers to discuss this further,” Aravas said.

  They left the gathering, Bowen invited with the other leaders. Bowen was a tall man, wearing plates of metal armor, and carrying a large broadsword in his sheath. A wooden shield hung from his back, and a spear in his hand. Long blonde hair flowed from his head and his eyes were bright blue. He looked similar to the people of Melanor, and Baron recalled that the Melanorians drew their lineage from the House of Kester. But Kester was on the western end of the continent and Melanor on the easternmost edge. As they went, Bowen gazed roundabout in wonder and amazement.

  “What is this place?” Bowen asked.

  “This is Ogrindal,” King Froamb replied. “An independent kingdom, so I'm told.”

  “You are the King of Eulsiphion,” Bowen said with a bow, finally recognizing the ornamentation of his kingly robes. Froamb nodded.

  “How long has Ogrindal been settled here?” Bowen asked.

  “Long,” Gwaren responded and escorted the group inside the dark-lit chambers.

  “Bowen, tell us everything,” Aravas said.

  “We first caught sight of them two days ago, a war party of some two dozen of the Bearoc, all heavily armed and armored. They were traveling east with all speed along the wall that separates their lands from ours, hoping to go unnoticed. As soon as the patrol reported in, we set out after them. It was then that we came upon our easternmost fort bordering the lands of the Horctura. It was completely destroyed and burned to rubble. There were no survivors. Over a hundred men at arms lost.

  The giant's tracks were all around...fresh and leading away toward the Maelstrom and the southern lands of the Horctura. We could not risk an open pursuit into the Horctura's territory. So we made south along Thay Iphilus Forest, hoping to evade random patrols and found the pathway cut straight into the forest, following it until arriving here at this place. We don't know where the giants have gone, or why they've invaded the kingdom of the Horctura.”

  “It can't be mere coincidence,” King Froamb declared. “The giants must know of
the events that have unfolded here.”

  “What events?” Bowen asked.

  For the next half hour, Sheabor relayed to him everything that had transpired in recent months, the arrival of Malfur and the war against the Horctura and the coming invasion of Corcoran. Bowen listened in disbelief. And before Sheabor had even finished his tale, Bowen arose.

  “My people must be warned.”

  “We're sending an envoy,” Sheabor replied.

  “They won't believe you. I must go myself.”

  “Sit down,” Aravas commanded. “First we must decipher this mystery you have laid before us.”

  Then there was silence.

  “If the Bearoc brought a mere two dozen men, perhaps it was intended as a scouting party to gather information,” Straiah finally said. “Two dozen men doesn't constitute an invasion. Perhaps they were sent to investigate and something went wrong.”

  “No,” declared Aravas. “The giants do not meddle in the affairs of man. Nothing but the return of Corcoran would so move them to leave their homelands. Somehow, they must have learned that his return is at hand.”

  “If the giants know of the return of Corcoran, why haven't they come to us?” Sheabor asked Aravas. “You told us that when the giants were warned of the coming darkness, they would be the first to rally to our cause. What in the world are they doing attacking the barbarians?”

  “It is troubling beyond words,” Aravas said, and then turned his eyes to Bowen. “Bowen, are you sure you've told us everything?”

  Bowen nodded.

  “And you're absolutely sure it was the Bearoc who sacked your outpost?”

  “Beyond all doubt,” he replied. “Their tracks were everywhere.”

  “I must see Faigean at once,” Aravas concluded. “He has been with the giants for twelve hundred years. He will have the answers we seek.”

  “I thought you were taking the twins to the Illian city,” Sheabor said.

  “Someone else must go in my stead.”

  He looked to Estrien as he said it, whose face betrayed her hesitance, though she didn't refuse him.

  “You must go with Bowen and search out the giants,” Aravas said to Sheabor.

  “But Durian and Pallin are heading in the opposite direction,” Sheabor replied. “And the alliance city must be started at once if we have any hope of finishing before Corcoran invades.”

  “All other considerations must be put aside until this business with the Bearoc is settled.”

  Sheabor's heart was beating quickly. Everything within him wanted to refuse Aravas. The thought of Cora chained in a dungeon blinded him with anger and fear. The rest were gazing at him. Clenching his fists he cast his face to the floor and nodded slowly.

  “Those who are willing will go with Bowen and track down this war party,” Sheabor declared. “Bowen, send your men back to Kester to tell them of everything you've heard.”

  Bowen nodded. And with that, the group dispersed. Straiah came quickly over to Estrien. When she saw him, she gave him a warm but troubled smile. He took her hand in his, which she didn't refuse.

  “Please be careful,” he said.

  “I will.”

  Then tears began to fill her eyes.

  “I'm sorry for running away. I'm trying to make sense of what's happening.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Whatever this thing is that's happened to you, we'll figure it out together. I'm not giving up on you.”

  Straiah lifted her hand to his face and kissed it. He felt a streak of cold run down his spine, which his face must have shown for she quickly departed. Straiah stood alone for long moments until Sheabor came beside him.

  “Is everything alright?”

  “It's a long story.”

  “Straiah, we must find the giant's war party with all speed. We must find them and stop them before Baron and Blair finish their training. If we have no unified city by the time Corcoran lands, we have no hope of survival.”

  “Do you really think it can be built in time?”

  “I would not have, but for Baron and Blair. If they survive the Illian city, we might just thread the needle.”

  “What about the giants?”

  Sheabor clenched his jaw.

  “At least their tracks will be easy to follow. That seems to be our only advantage. According to every map I've seen, the Maelstrom is the perfect hiding place. Central in the lands of the Horctura, it's massive and empty, full of desert dunes the winds wash clean of tracks. From there, a dozen towns and cities lay vulnerable to attack.”

  Those who were left in the room began to file out. King Froamb met them at the door.

  “I go to rebuild my kingdom,” he said and parted company with a bow.

  Then each one left to make ready for a long journey and battle. When they reconvened again in the town square, Bowen was just dismissing his men, charging them to ride without rest until they had given warning to the lands of Kester and to be ready for further instructions. Then he turned to the group – Sheabor, Straiah, and Gwaren fully clad in armor and weapons of the old world, and he marveled in disbelief.

  “These are the arms and armor of the great King Euthor,” Sheabor announced. “Locked away in hiding until the time of Corcoran's return.”

  Sheabor handed him a similar suit, which he took slowly and assembled. Then, mounting horses, they rode slowly for the city wall.

  “Bowen, tell us of the Bearoc,” Sheabor said.

  “The Bearoc are twice as tall as a man,” he began. “They move on foot at great speed, as swift as any horseman. They say their weapons are forged of steel broader and stronger than the sons of men.”

  “What are their weaknesses?” Sheabor questioned.

  “They have none.”

  Bowen's words hung in the air like an ominous portent of doom. Soon the group reached the outer wall and forest beyond. Baron and Blair ran up atop the tattered wall to see them off.

  “Be careful out there,” Baron called down. “You'll have a castle waiting for you on your return. The lords of Baronnora!”

  The group laughed.

  “Does he really intend to name the city after himself?” Straiah asked.

  “If he builds it, I suppose it's his prerogative.”

  Then the four men disappeared beneath the trees. It would be many hours to the edge of the forest, then the wilds of the Maelstrom. What they would encounter there, none yet knew.

  “Bowen, tell us about your homelands,” Sheabor said, after they had ridden awhile in silence.

  Bowen turned to him, intrigued. It was quite a large question.

  “What will they do when they hear of the coming darkness?” Sheabor questioned.

  Bowen took a deep breath and thought long.

  “Kester isn't a united kingdom, as the lands of Forthura are. It's three times as large, boasting many more thousands of fighting men. But the lords of Kester owe loyalty to none but themselves. We have a king who reigns supreme, but managing his squabbling nobles and the affairs of his own court occupies the whole of his endeavors.”

  “If they have a care for their survival, they will become a united kingdom,” Sheabor said.

  Bowen only smirked.

  “My father was also a captain in the northern guard of Kester,” Bowen said. “He once told me there were only two impossibilities in this world – that the armies of Kester would fly under one banner, and that the sons of men would learn to understand the minds of their wives.”

  They chuckled but took his meaning. Then Bowen turned to Sheabor.

  “They tell me you're of the House, Cavanah.”

  Sheabor nodded.

  “And the whole house lives in hiding on the Banished Lands?”

  “Yes. We've long abandoned the comforts of city life for the safety of the deep forests. The only thing that kept us alive through the centuries is the sheer size of the Banished Lands. It is twice as large as this Eastern Realm, if my skill for discerning maps bears true, and most
ly wild. But even so, we've been forced to abandon our forest keeps twice since I became Lord of Cavanah. We have grown skillful at needing little.”

  “You are the Lord of Cavanah?” Bowen questioned.

  “My father perished some years ago,” Sheabor recalled. “He was the only reason we escaped with our lives. He gave to me the Hammer of Haladrin, which is the sigil of the House, Cavanah.”

  Sheabor gave him the hammer, which he studied in awe for long moments before returning it.

  “So,” Bowen said with a smile. “Kester is a kingdom in disarray, Cavanah lives in hiding, and Forthura lays in ruins. What a wonderful beginning for the Houses of Men. And we wonder why the giants are avoiding us.”

  Sheabor smiled. Bowen wasn't like any captain he had imagined. Bowen had a cynical and jocular way about him. He had the personality of a man who had once sought great deeds, but the burden of menial bureaucracy had left him jaded to valor. It gave Sheabor insight into what the society of Kester must be like, which Bowen had already alluded to.

  “Does Kester know anything of the lands of Aeleos?” Sheabor inquired.

  “No,” Bowen responded. “The giants have seen to that. What is known is only rumor. Their homelands are completely bordered by tall mountains and high walls. It is impassable over land. The sea route is the only pathway in. But no captain will stray close to their waters. Aeleos is said to be an island kingdom, with many bridges and pathways spanning them. No one knows the breadth of their kingdom, and no one knows the size of their armies. They have never before now been warlike – a fact for which we are all quite blessed.”

  The group reached the edge of the forest by nightfall. Before them were the lands of the Horctura and the Maelstrom, a broad basin of wilderness and desert places many hundreds of miles across. What they would meet in that place, none could say. Only nomadic tribes of the barbarians dwelt there.

  Onward to The Illian City

  Blair and Estrien lingered in the forest just outside of Ogrindal, while Baron stood at the gap in the wall, saying his farewells to Ariadra.

  “I still don't like it,” Ariadra said. “That place is dangerous. Many have tried to find the Illian city. Some never returned.”