“Blair?” Baron said.
But Blair didn't respond. Baron shook him, finding him unconscious. Baron shook him more vigorously, but to no avail. Baron worked on tunneling through, but the going was slow without Blair. Estrien was battling for her life out there. But after Baron had come only a few feet through the boulder on the other side, the sound of metal trying to break through ceased.
Baron put his ear up against the stone and listened. All was deathly quiet. Had Estrien been killed? Baron's heart beat quickly. The air grew close and stifled. If he didn't work quickly, they'd soon run out of air. Baron tried poking a hole in the stone Blair had made, both to see through and also to keep from suffocating. Nothing happened. He closed his eyes and began again. Still nothing. Blair had hardened it beyond what Baron could manipulate.
Preparations
Durian froze in his tracks. He heard the sound of metal boots rushing down the wooden steps of the city walls.
“Don't utter a word to them,” said Pallin.
The two turned to see a pair of soldiers bearing down on them. The townspeople hurried away and stood at a safe distance, watching and waiting.
“Is something the matter?” Pallin asked.
“Come with us,” one of the soldiers demanded.
They shoved Pallin and Durian forward and took them back to the large building where Captain Cross presided. The large wooden doors were opened, and the two were brought inside. For many long moments, no one spoke.
“What is the meaning of this?” Pallin asked. “You told us we would be free to go as we pleased.”
“You've been gone three days,” Captain Cross replied. “And now, suddenly, here you are again.”
Captain Cross gave them a polite smile.
“Would you care to explain your absence?”
“When my grandson and I saw the kind of welcome we could expect from the lands of Kester, we set out back for our homelands of Forthura. But we met with villainous bandits in the forest who further deprived us of our goods. We have nothing left. Our only hope was to return here to Stillguard.”
Captain Cross eyed them narrowly.
“This land can be treacherous. These villainous bandits...describe them to me.”
“They came at us suddenly. They wore masks. We saw only little before they disappeared again into the forest.”
Captain Cross glanced back and forth between Durian and Pallin.
“Soldier, keep these men under constant supervision,” Captain Cross commanded and glanced to Durian, his gaze holding for long moments, analyzing him.
“If they leave the city, send two men to accompany them.”
One of the two soldiers bowed and turned to depart. Captain Cross' gaze was still burning into Durian. He seemed to study him intensely, though Durian couldn't ascertain what he was thinking.
“No, wait,” Captain Cross said suddenly to the retreating soldier. “These men have been through enough ordeals. I will keep my word to let them travel freely about without supervision. But remember, the tournament begins in two days. I advise you to stay within the city and rest. You may stay in the barracks if you wish. We'll make up spare cots for you and your grandson.”
Pallin eyed him suspiciously at his sudden change of heart.
“Thank you,” Pallin said.
“You are free to go.”
Pallin grabbed Durian by the shoulder and turned to leave, returning to the bustling city.
“What was that?” Durian asked.
“I'm not entirely sure.”
“I thought we were done for,” Durian continued. “The way he was looking at me...”
Pallin nodded.
“What should we do?” Durian questioned.
“You should rest for the tournament.”
“What about you?”
“I'm going to fulfill my obligations to Thorne.”
“Be careful,” Durian said. “I don't like what's going on here.”
“Fear not, my boy. Our ordeal is nearly completed. Do not look for me until the tournament. If I can make it back before then, I'll come and find you. But if not, do as you've been instructed.”
And before Durian could protest, Pallin set swiftly off. Durian didn't like this at all. He didn't know what Thorne was having Pallin do for him, but if Pallin was caught returning to the forest, he could be labeled a traitor and executed.
Durian began to wander the city, lost in thought. What had made Captain Cross change his mind about them? Had Durian done something, or given something away? As Durian ambled, he came near the western edge of town to an open area where a large number of tents were being erected. It almost reminded Durian of Market Town in Suriya. The entire area was bustling with activity. Caravans were littered roundabout, with horses rearing up on hind legs, resisting the soldiers who tried to lead them away from their masters.
The horses were majestic, larger and much more muscular than the ponies and horses found in the pasturelands of Suriya. Some were all black, with hair that shined in the sun. Others were white speckled with brown. Durian had never seen such equine variety.
A young man nearby jumped down from one of the large black horses. A new arrival for the tournament, he had flowing black hair and a regal posture. He reminded Durian of Jafra, who helped train Durian in the forest. He even wore a sash, just like Jafra. That must be some kind of distinguishing mark for their class, Durian thought. The young man glanced over and saw Durian staring at him, his eyes narrowing as he studied Durian.
Durian turned away and headed off, walking a few paces and then glancing backward, surprised to find that the young man still watched him. Durian hastened his pace and turned a corner out of view. Why was everyone suddenly so interested in him? Wandering the town again, more caravans were pouring into the city from everywhere in the surrounding region. These were the men he would soon face in battle. He wouldn't last a second against some of them.
Some were large and muscular, with broadswords sheathed at their sides. Others wore the regal robes of nobility, with squires and attendants and decorated carriages. Stillguard was bursting at the seams, the winner's purse too enticing to pass up. The mace was on display under guard in the center of the arena. Thinking about it made Durian realize he had yet to visit the place he would soon compete in. So setting off, he arrived at the large wooden gates of the arena, one guard on either side of the door barring the way.
“For warriors only,” said one of the guards.
“I'm Durian of Forthura. I'll be competing in the tournament.”
The guard huffed but raised his spear for Durian to pass, coming down the narrow wooden corridor and into the first area of the arena – a grassy park with archery targets at the far end. Durian continued to the next area through another pair of wooden doors. This one, a dirt lot, and had a long wooden railing running down the middle. Warriors on horseback carrying long wooden poles were already practicing maneuvers, Durian not the only competitor getting a feel for the arena.
Durian walked past the two warriors standing at the archery targets, and then past the warriors on horseback in the adjacent arena. There wasn't a third arena as Durian had expected to find. The final battle must take place in one of the first two arenas. The whole area was much smaller than Durian expected. Just two lots enclosed by tall rows of wooden seating.
At the end of the corridor two more guards stood at another wooden gate. Durian walked up and the doors were opened to him, a kind of staging area for the warriors. It was a huge room with weapons of every kind lining the walls. There were at least a dozen warriors present at the far end of the room, fully clad in armor, with others in flowing silk garments. They sized Durian up as he approached, the strange foreigner who didn't at all have the look of a warrior. Durian chuckled as he wondered what must be going through their heads.
But as the thoughts ran through his mind, suddenly something struck him about his appearance. Durian looked down at his clothing. He wasn't wearing his Suriyan garments anymore.
He was still wearing the garments the old woman had given him in the forest. A streak of panic hit him and he stopped in his tracks. What if that's why Captain Cross had so intently been gazing at him? If so, he would have known that Durian and Pallin had taken shelter with the Brotherhood.
The warriors at the end of the room were all looking intently at Durian, wondering at his strange behavior as he anxiously stood in the center of the room. Suddenly self-conscious, he blushed and quickly departed their company, never having seen the weapon he came to find.
Durian rushed out of the arena and into the town of Stillguard. The doors were opened for him, and he came to rest in the middle of the dusty street, his thoughts racing. If only Pallin had told him the rest of the plan. Where was he? He was probably being followed by Captain Cross' men. But as the thought entered his mind, he suddenly got the sinking feeling that he himself was being watched.
Durian glanced around the bustling city. Besides the two guards standing behind him, he didn't see any soldiers. But he did catch the eyes of two men, who seemed to watch him from the corner of a nearby building. They weren't dressed as soldiers, but something in their appearance made them seem unsavory characters. One of the men tapped the other on the shoulder and the two disappeared around the corner.
Durian didn't like this one bit. What should he do? He needed to find Pallin. Durian took off in the opposite direction from where the two ruffians had been. Where could Pallin be? What kind of obligations was he fulfilling for Thorne?
Then a thought came to him. Thorne and his men had commandeered their boat. They said they needed to make use of it. Durian wondered if the boat was part of their plan for entering the town of Stillguard during the tournament. The river flowed straight into the town, through a water mill that might be large enough for a person to fit through. Durian had nothing else to go on, so he set off for the east end of town.
It was late in the afternoon now. The river was easy to find, flowing through the center of town. The people had bordered it with smooth river rock so the water was clean and pure, not weedy and murky. This would have been a wonderful idea for the river Shay in Suriya. Bridges spanned the river in many places and at the eastern edge of town, the river disappeared behind the water wheel. Pallin wasn't here.
Day was turning to night. Durian set off toward the barracks, the only other place he could think where Pallin could be. The streets of Stillguard had already begun to clear, and glows were shining out from many window panes. Durian hurried along and was hit with the distinct sense he was being watched.
He turned round quickly, his eyes darting about the dusty streets. A few townspeople scurried along, but no sign of anything strange. A door creaked to a close just to his left. Durian stood there for many moments, scanning the nearly darkened streets.
He moved off very quickly, almost at a jog. He heard something in the places behind him, the sound of a boot twist on the dust of the street. Durian didn't turn round to look but darted around a corner and plunged himself into darkness. When he hit the low-lit alleyway, he took off on a run, darting across the street and into the shadows of some tall buildings. There he stood with his back flat against the wall, heaving deep breaths of air.
A few seconds passed and he heard the sound of boots shuffling on the dusty road he had just crossed. Durian craned his neck as far as he could to hear what transpired on the other side of the building. There were muffled voices and indistinct conversation. The one thing he heard clearly was a single question, “Where'd he go?”
Durian's heart beat quickly. He knew for certain now that he was being followed. What did they want with him? He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to make a sound. Were they listening for him, waiting for him to move? He couldn't quiet his heavy breathing. He heard the faint sound of a boot crunch on the ground just on the other side of the building and knew he would soon be discovered.
He sprang from his hiding place and ran down the alleyway toward the next row of structures, at least one man in pursuit. Durian cleared the building and burst onto the next street. But a powerful hand grasped him by the arm and thrust him down. Durian hit the road with a loud thud. Another man came running up just behind and Durian turned over to find a dagger pointed in his face.
“There you are,” said the second man.
Durian's eyes shot roundabout for anyone to help him. The streets were dark and desolate now. Durian had run toward the marketplace where everything was packed away and everyone had retired for home. There was enough light for Durian to see that the two men were the same he spotted earlier.
“What do you want with me?” Durian asked.
“Quiet!” the lead man said and thrust his dagger tip further into Durian's face.
“Where's your friend?” he asked. “Old codger gave us the slip.”
“I don't know!” Durian exclaimed. “He didn't tell me.”
“You'll pay for that. We're going to make you bleed.”
Durian's eyes went wide with horror. The lead man pulled his dagger away from Durian's face. Durian heard a rustle from just behind them. Then, suddenly, the lead man went flying to the ground. A new form appeared in his place and grappled with the other man. The new arrival ducked a blow and returned his own to the man's jaw. He landed on the ground, unconscious. The lead man rose to his feet, dagger in hand.
“You've made a big mistake, friend.”
The new arrival simply bowed. It didn't look like he had a sword in his hand. The two men squared off. Just as the ruffian was about to lunge at Durian's mysterious rescuer, Durian grabbed the man's foot and he went careening forward. The newcomer stepped sideways out of the way and the man landed with a thud. One kick from his boot and the newcomer had vanquished both of Durian's assailants. Durian couldn't believe it. Who was this? Durian rose to his feet and dusted himself off.
“Thank you,” Durian said. “You saved my life.”
The man bowed. Durian could see now, that the man who rescued him was the young man he had seen arriving with the caravan earlier, the one who had reminded him of Jafra.
“You and your associate play a dangerous game,” the young man said.
“We're just simple travelers.”
“Simple travelers don't carry weapons like the one which Captain Cross relieved you of.”
Durian didn't answer.
“Tell me, where did you get it?”
“It's our family heirloom,” Durian replied.
“And which family is that?”
“The, uh. I uh. I'm cousin to King Froamb of Forthura.”
The young man smirked.
“Of course you are. Tell me truthfully, where did you find it?”
Durian didn't know what to say. This man had rescued him, but Durian didn't trust him. Why was he asking so many questions about the mace of King Euthor? Maybe he wanted to know if there were more like it.
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Durian replied.
The young man breathed in deep and nodded his head slowly, seeming to consider Durian's declaration.
“You seemed to know me when I first saw you,” Durian continued.
One of the two unconscious men began to stir. Durian's rescuer put his arm round Durian's shoulder and began to lead him away.
“You should not return to the barracks tonight,” the young man said. “They may seek your life again. Take refuge among the caravans.”
Reunion
Bells were ringing throughout the city, tolling from the high towers in unison. Blair stood at the edge of his high window, looking out upon the crowded masses that had come from far and wide. Eulsiphion was decorated as never before, with fine silks and colorful banners hanging from every wall. This was the day that all had awaited – the wedding of the Prince Euthor to his bride, the Princess, Sheyla.
Blair had always loved their story. She had been just a common girl in the city, her father was a farmer in the plains. Prince Euthor had been off on a long journey, and returning home tired and roa
d-weary, decided to take a short cut through the countryside farmland, which was not lawful for him to do. Sheyla spotted him, not recognizing who he truly was, for he was dressed as a simple traveler. She could have driven him from their property but instead, she took pity on him, giving him a draft of water from the nearby well.
Blair was late. The wedding procession had already begun. Already they were walking en mass toward the city square for the final ceremony. Blair descended the steps of his home and was out in the streets. He pushed past the lumbering crowds, hoping to get a closer view of the two intendeds. The closer he came, the more the masses crowded round. He felt like he was being crushed.
Seeing a gap, he tried squeezing through but he was knocked to the ground at the base of a large stone. Blair stood to his feet, surprised to see that the top half of the stone was carved into a decorative scroll with lettering on it. It was a dedication Prince Euthor had made for the wedding day. Blair bent down to read it:
These pleasant hours – the waning sun
Bends to a reddening west,
Behind the gaze of you, the one –
The fairest and the best.
The gentle blow of summer breeze
That swirls your silken hair,
It stirs to life this speechless heart
Just marveling at you there.
Please tell me my eyes show the feelings
Words can never say.
I'll build a fire in these eyes
That shines till break of day.
Blair awoke to the sound of a loud thud. He pushed himself up and sat, blinking his eyes, but seeing nothing, as though he were blind. Images of the vivid dream began to fade and he struggled to recall its details. He knew the dream meant something, but didn't get a chance to finish it. Another loud crash. All was pitch black. The stony shell about them cracked.
“Baron?” Blair said, groping about.
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 43