The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  The Arena

  Durian stood against the outskirts of the dirt arena, sword clenched tightly in his trembling hands. Two dozen warriors were spread evenly along the perimeter, including Bretton, who stood on the opposite side. The tension was killing Durian, standing there waiting for the bell to be rung. The jester who had thrown the apples for the archers stood around fifty paces away, his hand holding the bell rope and his eyes darting about gleefully to all the contestants, seeing them squirm.

  In the center of the arena, many obstacles had been placed, things that could either assist or hinder the warriors found there. The obstacles were made to simulate the ruins of an old city, with half broken columns and battered marble statues littered about. On the outside of the arena, soldiers with bows were posted. Clearly, they didn't take kindly to any form of cheating, and Durian expected that they would deal with such acts swiftly and decidedly.

  A man came and stood on a raised podium, holding the weapon of King Euthor in his hand. In a loud voice, he began to name names and extend his hand to various warriors. When their name was called, each warrior raised their sword hand proudly into the air, amid the cheering of their patrons among the crowd. Almost all were from somewhere in Kester. Only a few were of other origins. Bretton was announced as being of Trakhendor in the realm of the Horctura. Durian was surprised they would allow those of the barbarian kingdom into the tournament. But Kester wasn't actively at war with them the way Forthura was.

  Durian could barely see out of his plated helmet, but he wouldn't dare remove it. The young man who had rescued Durian from the two thugs was also present in the arena. When he was introduced, he was said to be of the Jedra. Durian didn't know what that meant, but at least two others were announced with the same origin. The announcer finished and walked away from the podium.

  The jester resumed his antics, threatening to pull the bell rope and then stopping short. Durian's heart was racing and the other warriors began to stir.

  “On with it!” Captain Cross shouted from the other side.

  Then the bell was swiftly rung to an explosion of dust and trampling feet and the clash of metal on metal. The warrior to Durian's left took a quick step to his right and swung a powerful swing at Durian's chest. Durian panicked and fell backward, the swing sailing overhead, just missing the wooden railing.

  Raising his sword a second time, Durian scrambled backward to flee. The warrior pursued, kicking Durian in the breastplate and knocking him on his back. Durian lay there with wide eyes. All around were the sounds of metal and warfare. This was the first time in his life that Durian had ever been in a battle. It terrified him.

  The warrior stood over Durian, sword raised, the sun just behind him, which dazzled and blinded Durian as he gazed up in horror. Durian was about to yell out in surrender, but in their periphery, they both caught sight of another warrior approaching fast. This new warrior engaged the one standing over Durian, pushing him backward a bit and allowing Durian to scramble up against the wall.

  Durian looked around frantically for Bretton who was still on the opposite side, but closer than where he had started. He was trying to make his way over to Durian, but the going was slow. Another warrior approached from the left, sword raised. All around, warriors were locked in single combat. Durian exploded from the wall toward the center of the arena, darting around two sets of warriors, who shuffled about. But when Durian approached to run past them, they released their grip against one another and turned toward Durian to protect themselves from an underhanded attack.

  Durian's whole body tensed at the unexpected action and locked up. The warrior he was about to pass by swung a blow toward Durian. Durian closed his eyes and raised his sword. He took the blow in stride and somehow kept his balance. The other warrior of the pair took advantage of the situation and reengaged the warrior whom Durian had just passed by. The aggressor caught the other man in a weakly defended position, and Durian saw him sweep the other man's feet and knock him on his back.

  Then Durian continued forward, sweat now pouring down his face and into his eyes, blurring his vision. At least half a dozen warriors had already fallen in battle. A streak of blood was on the ground and a trail in the sand where a wounded or dead warrior had been dragged away. Durian dashed to the center of the arena, reaching a pair of ruined pillars and scanning the scene. The other warriors were leaving him largely alone, clearly not considering him a threat. They would do away with him later, once things calmed. Bretton was only twenty paces away, his back turned to Durian.

  But just then, something struck the ground at Durian's feet, startling him. Someone was shooting at him! Durian looked about in panic and then realized that the arrow had come from one of the soldiers on the outside of the arena. That same soldier readied another arrow and was pointing it at Durian, clearly not taking kindly to acts of cowardice and hiding. If Durian didn't reengage in the battle, the soldier might actually shoot at him.

  Durian burst forward through the center of the arena toward Bretton, who had another warrior on the ground nearly surrendered. But sensing someone coming up behind him, he turned round, sword raised and went for a strike. Seeing Durian though, he stifled his swing, allowing Durian to block it. It was then that Durian realized his mistake. This battle was a single, man to man contest. Teamwork was a form of cheating that could likely be punished with an arrow to the chest.

  Durian froze but Bretton swung another blow at him, a high one, which Durian ducked. The warrior on the ground pulled a knife from his side and lunged at Bretton. Durian moved to stop him, but he struck Bretton in the leg, gashing him. Durian kicked the warrior squarely in the helmet, and he was rendered unconscious. Bretton's leg was slowly seeping blood and he gazed at Durian in fury. Raising his sword for another blow at Durian, a nearby warrior approached the pair and Bretton turned to face him.

  Durian stumbled over the unconscious warrior at his feet and hit the ground hard while Bretton defended himself against the new aggressor. Squires ran out to drag the unconscious warrior from the contest. Durian arose and caught sight of someone approaching from his left, turning to find Captain Cross advancing against him. Had he seen the exchange between Durian and Bretton? Did he know they were working together?

  But Captain Cross was engaged in the middle of the arena by another warrior and Durian turned back to Bretton and the warrior he fought with. Durian tried to flank the warrior, coming alongside him, but it only hampered Bretton, for the warrior was skilled at dodging the blows of Bretton's large broadsword, and Durian nearly caught a fatal slash meant for the other warrior.

  Then, without warning, Durian caught the back of an armored hand to his helmet, sending him to the ground in a daze, his helmet flying from his head. Durian's world spun and he blinked his eyes to clear his senses, rubbing his temples as he laid there. But he dare not linger, for lying on the ground for any period of time would constitute an automatic disqualification.

  So he stood to his feet, gazing about. Only a handful of battles still raged in the arena, with no more than six warriors left. Captain Cross was still making for Durian's position. He was engaged with another warrior, but was pushing him back into Durian's direction.

  Bretton was faring poorly with the warrior he fought with, Bretton's broadsword too slow for the quick movements of the agile knight. Bretton had begun to tire and the knight swung blow after blow, which Bretton parried, but was losing ground. With a final, powerful blow, the knight knocked Bretton back and into the railing at the edge of the arena. The warrior raised his sword, swinging downward, which Bretton caught with his own sword, half of his body now hanging over the railing, the aggressor pushing against his sword with all his might.

  Durian watched with wide eyes. But Bretton let out a fierce roar and managed to slide left out of the grapple, the knight stumbling forward toward the railing. Bretton dropped his sword and hooked the knight under his leg, flipping him out of the arena, to the joy of the watching crowd. Bretton stooped low and retrieved h
is sword, raising it overhead while the crowd cheered.

  Bretton's leg was still oozing blood and he bent down to grab a handful of sand from the arena floor, rubbing it into the wound. Then he glanced about, finding to their mutual dismay that no other warriors were nearby. Bretton turned back to Durian, jaw clenched, and advanced toward him, raising his sword. Durian had no choice but to fight him.

  Bretton had to make it look believable and his swings were powerful and effective, knocking Durian off balance. But Bretton also heaved deep breaths of air, overplaying his fatigue and giving Durian the chance to attack him back, for what little good it did. Durian could see the tension in Bretton's face, knowing they wouldn't fool the crowd for long. In another few moments, Bretton would have to eliminate Durian for real.

  But just then, Captain Cross thrust the hilt of his sword against the helmet of the warrior he sparred with, knocking him to the ground, unconscious. Wasting no time, he approached Durian and Bretton, seeing through their ruse.

  “You both disgust me,” the captain said. “I won't stand another minute of you in my arena.”

  Then, with a yell, Captain Cross lunged at an injured and tired Bretton. But Bretton, mustering all his strength, let out a roar and attacked Captain Cross with a flurry of powerful strikes, knocking him back. But Captain Cross, though surprised at first, was calm and collected, waiting for his opportunity to strike back. Bretton began to tire, raising his sword too slowly for a powerful downward strike. Captain Cross was able to anticipate and sidestep the blow, Bretton stumbling forward and turning to barely block a swing from the captain across his chest.

  Bretton, tired and off balance, was being pushed back toward Durian. Captain Cross beat two powerful blows into Bretton's broadsword. He motioned as though he were going to throw a third blow but didn't. Bretton took the bait and thrust his sword forward for a block but Captain Cross had already moved to flank him, punching Bretton in the mouth with his gauntlet and knocking him to the ground with a thud. Bretton tried to recover, but Captain Cross stepped his boot on Bretton's sword hand.

  The engagement was over. Bretton lay on the ground breathless, his arms raising high in surrender. Blood was flowing from his mouth. They were only a few paces from Durian. Captain Cross' sword was at Bretton's throat. Durian's heart was racing. Why wasn't Captain Cross letting him go? Did he really mean to kill him? Captain Cross slowly lifted his sword from Bretton's throat, but then suddenly a look of rage came upon him and he reared up to impale Bretton.

  “No!” shouted Durian and jumped forward, hitting Captain Cross squarely shoulder to shoulder and sending both of them tumbling. Captain Cross stumbled back, but quickly regained his footing and turned, smacking Durian across the face with the back of his gauntlet, knocking him yet again to the ground. Durian's world spun. In another moment, something large came to stand over him, blocking out the sun.

  “You should have known better than to cross me,” he said, raising his sword.

  Durian's eyes went wide with horror. There was nothing he could do. Durian glanced to Bretton for help but Bretton had already surrendered. If he reengaged Captain Cross, the archers would shoot him through with arrows. Just then, a rock smacked into Captain Cross' helmet and bounced free. The captain shot his head round in rage and Durian heard a voice.

  “O, Captain,” said the voice.

  Durian's head shot toward the sound, in great surprise seeing the young man of the Jedra who had rescued him from the pair of thugs. He and Captain Cross were the only two combatants left.

  “Let's save him for last, shall we?” the young man said.

  Captain Cross turned back to Durian.

  “Don't go anywhere. You're a dead man.”

  Then he turned to face the young man.

  “You and your kind are finished in Stillguard.”

  The young man only smiled, making a low and formal bow, then turning the tip of his sword to Captain Cross, who lunged toward him with a yell. The young man dodged the first blow, darting to his left and blocked the second blow. Durian turned his eyes outward to the crowd, looking for signs of Pallin or Thorne. Where were they?

  Captain Cross had amazing endurance as he continued with a flurry of blows against the young man, who was losing ground and moving toward the center of the arena. But as Captain Cross began to tire, the style of fighting of the young man seemed to grow more elegant, almost like a ceremonial performance. He was growing overconfident and it enraged Captain Cross all the more.

  With a roar, Captain Cross slashed across the young man's torso, who ducked with outstretched arms, as though a formal bow, and slashed the inside of the captain's leg. With eyes of murderous rage the captain lunged for the young man, clashing swords briefly, then abandoning his own and hitting the young man in the chest with his shoulder, knocking them both to the ground.

  The young man arose disarmed and took a few steps behind into the ruins at the center of the arena. Captain Cross stood with the young man's sword in his own hand and quickly pursued. Using a pillar, he dodged the blows of the captain, who grew frustrated, shoving the pillar down toward the young man who retreated further into the set of obstacles.

  Now a game of cat and mouse, the captain pursued the young man as he wound through the ruins to the delight of the crowd who knew at any moment the tournament would come to a close. But the captain was growing tired and the young man made the choice to dart from the ruins toward Captain Cross' sword lying idle in the dirt. Moving to intercept, the young man dove for the sword and went into a roll, the captain swinging but narrowly missing as his sword struck the dirt.

  The young man turned and swung a low blow from a crouched position, catching the captain just below his breastplate. With a yell the captain swung again down at the young man, who sidestepped the blow and stood to his feet, sword pointed at the captain, who had difficulty standing from the fresh wound in his torso. Breathing heavily, he swung once more with a loud roar but the young man ducked it and then struck the captain in the jaw with the hilt of his sword, sending him to the ground.

  Durian couldn't believe his eyes, nor could the crowd, whose prolonged silence finally erupted into a roar of applause. But the young man wasn't through. Turning toward Durian, he walked quickly to him, sword pointed at him for his surrender. Durian was technically still in the fight and began to raise his hands slowly.

  But the young man suddenly sheathed his sword and made a formal bow to Durian. Then, without a word, walked to the side railing of the nearest wall and swiftly hopped over it and out of bounds. Durian stood in abject confusion but the crowd erupted in tumult at the unexpected development. Durian glanced over to Captain Cross, who had shaken himself from his daze and risen to his feet.

  “This is not an honorable victory,” Captain Cross shouted above the noise of the spectators. “Kill him!”

  The crowd went silent as the group of archers who encircled the arena drew their bows and turned to Durian, whose eyes went wide with horror. Before he could move, he heard the sound of arrows loosing.

  The Gathering

  The group set camp for the night – Sheabor, Bowen, the twins and Drogan. They had traveled south along the mountain, until Bowen spotted the spring he had mentioned for watering their horses. It wasn't until they had stopped that they noticed that Gwaren was no longer among them. He had slipped away secretly, presumably to help Straiah, which Sheabor was secretly glad for. That was just like Gwaren – no words, no goodbyes or farewells.

  The day had grown late and the horses would need water again in the morning. They spoke little, all their thoughts on Straiah and Estrien, and now Gwaren. They risked a small fire, knowing that an ambush from Corcoran's elite force was unlikely with Straiah and Gwaren tracking them. Sheabor spoke with Bowen about the lands of Kester and how they would take to a foreign city being constructed within their borders.

  Baron watched his brother. For the first time in their lives, Blair now greatly intrigued him. What had really happened to him?
Blair only gazed into the fire and Baron came over to sit beside him, snapping twigs and throwing them into the fire.

  “Seems like you've got something on your mind,” Baron said.

  “Just working things through.”

  “What things?”

  “What King Euthor is trying to tell me.”

  Baron was intrigued.

  “I still don't understand what happened in the Illian city,” Baron replied. “You said King Euthor and Sheyla appeared to you in visions. All I ever saw was that stupid instructor scolding you for being late all the time.”

  Blair smiled and nodded.

  “The fact that they managed to turn you into a good little schoolboy is probably my new favorite thing in life.”

  Baron lifted his head back in laughter and Sheabor glanced to him with a chiding look for his outburst. Then the pair gazed long into the fire.

  “I still don't quite understand,” Baron said. “You think King Euthor and Sheyla were actually talking with you?”

  “They never really talked to me,” Blair said. “It was more like I was watching a memory of them from long ago, when the two of them were in the Illian city. The last vision I had, he was working with piles of sand, making the Omnivar stone of the Illian city. I brought my hands into the same pile of sand, let my power mingle with his. What I felt was indescribable. He gave something to me. I don't know how. But in those few moments, I felt my power grow beyond anything I thought possible.”

  Blair's story sounded crazy. But for the incredible feats Baron had witnessed in Blair, Baron would never have believed him. Baron wondered why the same thing hadn't happened to him. He could feel Blair's immense power when the two blended their abilities together. But Blair's power didn't seem to transfer over to Baron.

  “When I fainted inside our stone enclosure, I had a dream,” Blair continued. “It was the wedding day of King Euthor and Sheyla. It all felt so familiar, as though I knew them both personally. I saw a poem he had written to her. I can't remember it now and I awoke before the dream could finish. I don't know what he was trying to tell me. It feels like he's calling me to something. Or somewhere maybe. I'm not sure. I'll know more once he gives me the rest of the dream.”