The colors of the cavern pulsated a bright red and he heard a roar faint and far off. The swirling pool of stone he was halfway submerged in began to harden around him, squeezing tight.
“No,” Blair commanded, and placed his hand on the pool.
The stone softened, and Blair raised a pedestal up beneath his feet, lifting his body completely out from the liquid. A louder roar erupted from somewhere in the cavern and the ground began to tremble. Blair stepped off his pedestal and onto the solid ground, reaching his hand to the side wall of the cavern.
“Be quiet,” Blair ordered, and instantly the tremor ceased.
Blair looked around for signs of Baron, seeing nothing. Just then, Blair heard something from above, like rock splitting. Jumping forward, he narrowly dodged a large rock that smashed down right where he'd been standing. Coming back to the pool of flowing color, he bent down and drew a part of it into his hand, hardening it to solid stone.
“Where is my brother?” Blair demanded.
Blair felt their emotions of fury and wrath, but they told him nothing of Baron. Blair clenched his jaw, taking the stone and dissolving it to powder, destroying the Omnivar stone. A near deafening roar erupted all around him.
“Where is my brother?” Blair yelled.
Everything in the cavern was pulsing the brightest red.
“If you don't release him, I'll destroy this place!”
Then everything went suddenly pitch dark. Another crack in the cavern ceiling from above sent him jumping forward and stumbling down onto the hardened stone as a large chuck crashed just behind him.
Blair clenched his fists and jaw and stood to his feet, making his way back to the side wall of the cavern. Though he could see nothing, he could sense the stone somehow all around him, almost as one knows where the sun is by the warmth of the light on their face. Blair threw his palm into the wall of stone with a clap, sending a surge of power into the rock. A large crack streaked away from his palm, running up the whole length of the wall.
The cavern buckled, sending chunks of stone down into the heart of the city as another roar erupted from the indefinable distance. Blair hit the crack again, exerting all his Builder ability in a destructive wave, widening the crack all the way through to the outside world, the thinnest sliver of light now bathing the inner cavern with a golden gleam.
Blair felt a sudden wave of fatigue hit him, along with hunger and thirst. He didn't know how long they had been in this place, but he felt very weak from lack of food and water. But he straightened his posture and looked back over the city.
“Where is my brother?” Blair demanded yet again.
After a moment, a glimmer of vibrant color appeared in the distance. Blair moved toward it warily, suspecting a trap. But as he approached, he saw the form of his brother lying unconscious on the ground.
“Baron!” he yelled, kneeling down and shaking him.
Baron slowly opened his eyes.
“Blair?” he asked. “Where am I?”
“No time to explain. We need to get moving.”
Blair pulled Baron to his feet, but Baron's legs were wobbly and dizziness seemed to strike him.
“It'll pass,” said Blair. “Come on.”
Blair led the way toward the glowing sliver of light flooding through the crack in the cavern wall. Reaching it, Blair placed his fingertips inside the crack and closed his eyes, pulling with all his might. Baron, wide eyed, watched as the wall widened before him, though only a short distance. At the disturbance, the whole cavern trembled a bit, with small pieces of stone falling down in scattered places. The blood red color was slowly returning to the cavern.
Blair pushed himself into the opening of the crack, softening the stone around him and shoving the crack apart as he went. Baron followed him, trying to aid his brother, but finding his own abilities far inferior to Blair's, who was forming a narrow pathway as he forced his whole body through. As they drew near to the outside world, sounds began to emanate from the inner cavern.
“Doesn't sound like they're too happy,” Baron commented.
The walls around them began to shake. Blair reached both his hands back and slammed his palms into the stone before him. The crack splintered away in several directions but the wall remained intact. Hitting it again, he blew a hole all the way out the other side.
“How did you do that?” Baron asked.
“Come on,” Blair said and made for the outside world, stumbling as he went, the last exertion of his power sapping what little was left of his strength. Blair fell to his knees, breathing heavily.
“Blair, are you okay?” Baron asked, helping him up.
Blair nodded, taking a moment, then standing to his feet. The whole wall still trembled, threatening to bury them alive. But they were only a few paces from the outer city. Suddenly, a form stood at the end of the tunnel, stopping them in their tracks.
“Baron! Blair!” the voice of Estrien called out.
“Estrien!”
The two sped through the rest of the tunnel, diving out the other side and away from the chunk of mountain still shaking. Blair rolled over onto his back, breathless, feeling the warm sunshine on his face.
“I can't believe you're alive!” Estrien exclaimed.
“Almost,” said Baron.
“What happened?” Estrien asked. “How did you escape?”
Baron wore a troubled look on his face and only shook his head. He didn't know.
“How long were we trapped?” Baron asked.
“Many days,” Estrien responded.
Blair pushed himself up and sat, still breathing deeply.
“I don't know exactly what happened,” said Blair. “King Euthor and Sheyla saved me.”
“King Euthor and Sheyla?” Estrien exclaimed in disbelief.
“The Illian city was manipulating us,” Blair said. “They overtook our minds and created a dream world to teach us how to build their Omnivar stone. They wanted to escape this valley and have us build a new city for them. But somehow, Sheyla appeared in the vision with me. When I saw her, something struck a chord in my memory and I followed her. She always led me to King Euthor and somehow, together they broke the city's hold on me.
Every time I awoke in their dream world, she would lead me to him and I would once more break free into my right mind. The last time I saw him, I stuck my hands into the piles of sand he was working with. I felt his power, felt it combine with mine. Everything changed after that. I don't know how it's possible. But somehow King Euthor and Sheyla were there with me. It isn't something my mind just made up.”
Estrien's look was grave. That was clearly the last thing she expected to hear.
“I think it's time we leave this place,” she concluded.
Blair arose but as he did, a deep and muffled rumble emanated from high up on the mountain behind the city.
“They aren't going to let us leave,” Blair said. “They're bringing down the whole mountain. I can't stop them. Run!”
“They can't,” Baron said. “They'll all be killed.”
“Run!”
The mountain just behind them began to shake. Small sections were cracking and breaking off from the face, tumbling to the depths below. They moved off but running at speed was nearly impossible. The ground was shaking too heavily. Just then, a huge chunk broke free from the mountain face, sliding down and stopping with a mighty crash, then falling forward. It was big enough to envelop the entire city. They weren't going to make it to safety.
Training
Durian clenched the sword tightly in his hands, crouched low, waiting, his back against the river. There was no escape. A man stood just in front of him, sword poised, looking to make a death blow. Taking a quick step toward Durian, Durian jumped back in response, stumbling a bit on a smooth river stone. The man took the opportunity and swung a powerful blow across Durian's chest. Durian blocked the blow but the power of it knocked him backward into the river and he fell with a splash.
A clamor of chuc
kling and applause arose from men seated on a nearby fallen log. His opponent reached forward and extended a hand to Durian, who stood to his feet, now drenched. The Brotherhood was training Durian how to fight.
“You'll have to do better than that if you're going to last one minute in the arena,” Bretton said. “A skilled swordsman defeats his enemy through footwork, not blade work. You were defeated before your blade ever locked steel with mine.”
Durian nodded. Bretton was a tall and well-built man, muscular, with blond hair that reminded Durian of the barbarians. Thorne had said that Bretton was from the north, so Durian's notion might not have been far off.
“Do not worry about the blade,” Bretton continued. “The blade follows the man. If the man stumbles, the blade is useless.”
Bretton tossed Durian his sword. But just as Durian caught it, Bretton lunged at him, sword raised. Durian jumped backward, and again lost his balance. Bretton smiled and the crowd chuckled, but Bretton halted, allowing Durian to recover. They certainly could have chosen a better spot for training. Smooth and awkward river stone was hardly a terrain for beginners.
Bretton moved sideways, but didn't approach Durian, who tried to match his movements and keep himself in good position. Bretton came in for another strike and Durian took a step backwards and blocked the blow. His foot landed in the river. Durian smiled, happy that he had held his ground. Bretton smirked and released his sword from Durian's.
“You can't step backward every time I advance,” Bretton began. “Remember, the arena will be small and close-quartered. If they push you out of bounds, you'll be considered forfeit. But don't stay in the middle of the arena either. Stand your ground and this time, the river marks the perimeter of the arena. If your foot touches it, you'll forfeit. And remember, you'll be wearing armor. They may attack with their body also. If you take a shoulder blow to the chest, you'll be finished for certain. You have to be quick on your feet. The tournament is in less than a week.”
Durian nodded his affirmation but this was a horrible plan. He didn't stand even the remotest chance. Bretton squared off with him. Durian glanced to the crowd who watched them. There was no sign of Pallin or Thorne. Bretton took advantage of Durian's distraction and swung across Durian's chest. Durian blocked the blow and was almost pushed back, but he held his ground.
Bretton swung above Durian's head. Durian blocked the blow, but because it was high, it knocked the sword tip behind him, pointing the other direction. Bretton swung again, and Durian managed to catch the blow with his sword, but it was an awkward block, and Bretton stepped forward. He held his sword there for a moment, clearly able to push Durian back at any moment into the river. Then he smiled and released his sword. Durian saw one of the spectators stand to his feet and walk over. He was a slender, younger man with long dark brown hair, wearing a brown sash on his waist.
“With your leave,” he said with a bow to Durian.
Durian handed the man his sword and retreated toward the crowd of spectators.
“Most of the warriors in the arena will be ogres, like our friend here.”
Bretton smirked.
“They'll want you to block their blows, knowing they'll overpower you.”
The man bowed to Bretton and stood tall and slender like a pole, the tip of his sword facing straight up, almost as though a royal guard standing watch at the doors of a palace. The man had a regal air about him.
Bretton swung across his chest. He ducked the blow narrowly, and stood again to his feet. Bretton swung a second, diagonally downward, which the man again avoided and took the opportunity to step sideways away from the river. Bretton swung again, and the man darted backward. Then he held up his hand to stop the conflict.
“Victory in the arena will be won through endurance,” the man said to Durian. “You will not win through strength. Allow your opponents to tire. This will be your only hope.”
The man tossed the sword back to Durian, who caught it awkwardly. The man returned to his seat in the spectator's crowd. And though he was in the midst of the group, Durian noticed that he wasn't really mingling with the the rest of the group. Durian came again to Bretton. He trained for the remainder of the day, until his muscles burned with exhaustion. His only advantage was that his hands were strong and callused from his work as a carpenter. They didn't blister and his grip remained strong. If endurance truly was the key, at least he had that in his favor.
After the long day ended, Durian came over to the fallen log and seated himself, Bretton soon joining him. The tree was smooth, it's bark stripped from having traveled down the river, now deposited on this stony river bank during some storm long ago, when the waters were raging and much higher.
“You did well today,” Bretton encouraged.
Durian smiled but could see right through the compliment. A week of training was no match for a lifetime of swordplay. His only hope was to stay alive and help Bretton if he could.
“Who was that who fought with you earlier?” Durian questioned.
“That was Jafra.”
The way Bretton relayed his name seemed as though it were supposed to mean something to Durian.
“Not all of the Brotherhood are truly outlaws,” Bretton began. “Not long ago, Stillguard was a merchant city. But with the growing threat of the Horctura in the east, it became a military outpost, controlled by Captain Cross. Military outposts are expensive to maintain. For years now Captain Cross has bled those families who remained dry in taxes.
Jafra is the son of one of the foremost merchant families. When they failed to pay the taxes demanded on them, Captain Cross did not believe they were truly without means. He had Jafra branded as an outlaw until the sum required was rendered in full. Jafra has been living in our care for most of this past year.”
Durian clenched his jaw. The more he learned about Captain Cross, the more he realized who the true outlaw was.
“Come on,” said Bretton. “You've earned yourself a hot meal.”
The thought of a hot meal brought a joy to Durian's heart he had seldom felt before. The two walked away from the riverbed and into the thick trees of the forest. The day was growing long and soon nightfall would arrive. Durian could smell camp long before he could hear or see it. Sunset had come and gone as he and Bretton walked. And the smell of warm venison stew filled the air.
Soon the sounds of laughter and even music came through the air. Durian was surprised they would be so vocal with the troops of Stillguard patrolling about. But they must have been deep enough in the forest to be free of the worry of discovery. Durian could see a mellow glow arising in the distance ahead. There were many fires burning. This must have been the main camp of the Brotherhood. Durian was taken aback that they would let him and Pallin see it. They must have known that even if forced to talk, neither of them could find their way back here.
The two were greeted upon arrival with claps and hurrahs, and each was given a warm bowl of stew. And for the first time, Durian actually saw women in the camp of the Brotherhood. It wasn't just a band of ruffians after all. Durian glanced around for signs of Pallin. He still hadn't seen him. That was a bit worrisome. But what Durian did see intrigued him. He saw Jafra sitting alone on the outskirts of the gathering. Durian came over to him and seated himself next to him on his log. Jafra didn't say a word, but watched the merry making of the gathering with a vague interest.
“You don't join them?” Durian asked.
“What is there to celebrate?” Jafra replied.
“Thank you for your help today.”
Jafra nodded.
Durian wanted to say more, wanted to ask Jafra about the things Bretton had told him about. But something made him stay his questions. Durian sat with him awhile, but curiosity over the whereabouts of Pallin overtook his interest in Jafra. Durian left to go and find him. After inquiring after Pallin to multiple individuals and receiving only a blank stare, Durian instead inquired over the whereabouts of Thorne, and received ample information after a single attempt
. Since Durian hadn't seen either of them all day, it was reasonable that they were together.
Durian approached a large tent standing not far from the crowd and entered it without invitation. He saw Pallin immediately, along with Thorne and two other men. They seemed flustered at the arrival of the new guest, but quickly greeted him and welcomed him into the fold. Durian was surprised by the lack of security, though unwelcome guests would be a rarity in a place secluded as this. The four men were staring at Durian impatiently. Durian blushed, not knowing himself why he had come. Pallin must have seen it in his eyes, and he walked over to him and put his hand on Durian's shoulder.
“You must be exhausted,” Pallin said. “Thorne, is there a place for him to wash and a place for him to sleep?”
“The other side of town has warm water and clean clothes. You can sleep in any tent you prefer.”
With that, Pallin walked Durian to the door of the tent.
“We'll stay in camp at least one more day,” Pallin said. “Rest tonight and train again in the morning.”
With that, Pallin turned round and headed back to Thorne. What was going on here? Why was he being shooed away? What could Pallin and the others be discussing? Durian wanted to press the matter, but he truly was dirty and exhausted. The thought of warm water, clean clothes, and a soft bed outmatched his curiosity.
Durian exited the tent and walked back through the small forest village. There was a large fire in the middle of the town, with a lute player strumming and singing loudly one of their country tunes. A few were dancing and the rest were clapping. It reminded Durian of home, of sitting in Walloway's Tavern with Baron and Blair. Durian sighed, and wondered if he would ever see Suriya again. Had they even survived the war against Malfur?
Durian walked past the crowd and continued on. He saw steam rising from behind one of the larger tents. Coming round, behind, he saw a large wooden tub filled with warm water. An older woman appeared from within the tent.
“Let's have your dirty things,” she said. “I'll fetch you a pair of something clean before you're through. Just throw your clothing there. I'll be back in a short minute.”
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 41