“What is it?” Baron asked.
“You should know that my people are talking of going back to Ogrindal,” She said.
“What? Why?”
“Gwaren hasn't returned and our people here don't have a leader.”
Baron was taken aback.
“You're not leaving are you?”
“I may not have a choice,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “The man who now leads us isn't for you. His name is Dhelgar. Whinden and some of the other leaders of Ogrindal sent along several of their own people to act as eyes and ears for them. They build, but they also watch. Now that Gwaren is gone, Dhelgar has risen up as a voice for the rest of us.”
“And what's he saying?”
“That it's useless for so many to be here with only two Builders doing the construction. I'm so proud of you for how hard you and your brother are working but the workers are getting discouraged.”
“It's only because we've been laying the foundation and the outer wall,” Baron argued. “Once the buildings start going up, we can build individual blocks for the workers to use wherever they want.”
But it wasn't her he needed to convince. If this man, Dhelgar, really was sent by Whinden, then he was the one Baron needed to confront. Baron took a deep breath and sighed.
“Does Sheabor know?”
“There's a council meeting tonight. Dhelgar might announce it then.”
Baron clenched his fists. For the first time ever, they had a chance to get a step ahead of Corcoran. Baron had been so focused on his work and his brother that he hadn't seen the other problems brewing. He'd worked himself to the bone and had barely spent a single hour free with Ariadra. How could she be leaving?
Baron gazed long into her eyes, the thought of not seeing her again ripping him up inside. If she left, he had no idea when he'd see her again.
“Blair, I'm taking a break for awhile,” he called out to his brother nearby.
With what Ariadra had just told him, Baron knew they couldn't afford to take time off from the project. But what else could he do? If this really was his last day with her, he wasn't going to sit here working.
“Do you want to take a walk?” Baron asked with a smile.
Ariadra nodded and smiled and the pair walked hand in hand into the open plains. The yellow grasses were swaying gently against the light breeze coming up from the west.
“It's so open here,” she said. “I never knew such wide open spaces existed.”
“You should see the ocean!” Baron exclaimed.
Ariadra sighed.
“I would love to see the ocean one day. Tell me about your home.”
“Suriya?” he asked. “It's always cold. Unless you're a blacksmith that is. Then you sweat all day long, even with snow piled high all around. Blair and I ran a smithy there, under our father.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
Baron smiled sheepishly.
“I was different then. Can't say I really saw the dignity in honest hard work. When this is all over, I'll take you there. I'll hire a schooner and we'll sail out into the bay.”
Ariadra smiled fondly and Baron felt an unexpected wave of feeling. Only months ago, he'd been bored to tears with the humdrum of work and menial living, wanting to strike out and have an adventure in the wide world. But now, having found a passion he could really pour himself into, and a woman he could share a life with, the thought of a quiet life in a backwater town didn't seem nearly so bad.
The breeze was pulling the locks of her brown hair across her face. Baron stroked them away with the back of his fingertips. Then he kissed her, the fear of tomorrow melting away in the joy of today. Whatever the future would bring, they'd meet it together.
Meanwhile, a small horse cart slowly trotted up from the east, not supplies from one of the regular caravans but something else. Blair knew just what it was and abandoned the job site, running to greet the driver who was pulling the cart toward the center of town.
“Have you brought the documents?” Blair inquired to the driver.
“I've orders to deliver them to Sheabor or Bowen.”
“They're for me actually. I'd like to see them please.”
“I've orders, son. Now make way.”
Blair had no choice but followed behind as the driver made for the council tent, throwing the flap open, fuming.
“Sheabor, please tell this man to release the documents to me,” Blair said, interrupting the meeting already taking place.
Sheabor looked at him for long moments with a stern gaze but it softened at length.
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” Blair said, turning.
“I hope you won't let this interfere with your work,” Sheabor said.
But Blair ignored the comment and helped the driver unstrap the large chest of documents. Bowen came out from the tent, helping Blair and the driver unload the heavy cargo down to the ground.
“These didn't come easily,” Bowen said. “Those monks can be a rowdy lot, surprisingly. They've insisted on getting these records back as soon as we're finished with them. Where do you want them?”
“My tent is just over there.”
They plopped the chest down in the middle of the tent and Blair went to work, glancing only briefly at the first few documents and casting them aside before digging out another handful. Bowen watched in intrigue but soon departed, though Blair didn't even know he was still there. Most of the documents were reports and historical accounts of people and places. But then he saw the corner of a piece of paper that contained what could only be a poem. He took it in hand and lifted it from the rest.
As he raised the paper to his eyes, his hands trembled and his heart raced. Though he could scarcely believe it, before his eyes was the poem from his dream. Now he knew for sure he wasn't crazy:
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.
Though seeing the poem in real life was more satisfying than he could have hoped for, staring at it for long minutes, reading it over and over again, didn't reveal a deeper meaning like he thought it would. What did it mean? Why would King Euthor show him this poem?
At length, he began going over more of the scrolls. He read each slowly. Some were historical accounts of places and people. Others were records from a personal journal he must have kept. But then he noticed something further. It was another poem.
The golden speckled sands array
The distant, pounding shore.
Our brief, intruding footprints
Wash away to nevermore.
The undulating grasses sway
Amid our roaming feet.
We undiscovered rovers steal
Away to our retreat.
While all the tired ways of man
Fade slow across the sea,
Out here beyond, our hearts dissolve
Their anonymity.
But all the hungry hours pass
Beyond the misty veil.
The unescaping time will come
When we must put to sail.
The unescaping fate: We too
Are subjects to decay.
Our unescaping memories
Will never fade away...
Blair's heart burned as he read the poem. This one spoke to him more than the other, especially the closing lines:
Our unescaping memories
Will never fade away...
That's what he felt like in the Illian city, that he was watching a memory from long ago. Blair read the poem a second time, his pu
rpose becoming clear. He knew at last what he had to do.
Meanwhile, Baron and Ariadra had spent the whole of the afternoon wandering the vast plains together, forgetting the cares of the world. But as they turned back, the looming mountain stood before them, a representation of the obstacles they faced, and his troubles came flooding back.
“Tell me about Dhelgar,” Baron said.
“He was one of the attendants to Whinden,” she replied. “When he volunteered unexpectedly for the project, everyone knew his motives. But he wasn't refused. Now that Gwaren is gone, he has just what he wanted. He's been working tirelessly to remove the support of our people from this place.”
Baron grew angry. Ogrindal was one of their biggest contributors to the project. If they removed their support for no good reason, it could cause a chain reaction. Who did this man think he was, this pawn of Whinden? But as he asked himself the rhetorical question, a realization struck him.
“Come with me,” he said.
He took her by the hand and pulled her fiercely, running back to the tents and both arriving breathless.
“Please...” Ariadra said, hands on her knees. “Tell me...what's going on.”
“There's...” Baron replied. “No time.”
Then he grabbed her by the hand again toward the council tent. Already a crowd gathered, many of the laborers quitting their work early, seeing as how both Builders had already done the same. Everyone knew that this meeting would decide the fate of the city. Baron pushed through the crowd and the opening to the tent, standing out of breath for a few moments. Sheabor took a few steps toward him.
“Is anything the matter?”
Baron shook his head and heaved deep breaths.
“I need...” he said. “I need to see the charter drawn up by you and Aravas for the alliance city.”
“The charter?” Sheabor responded. “Baron, the meeting is about to begin. What's all this about?”
“There's...no time. Please trust me.”
“Get him what he needs,” Sheabor said and one of the representatives dug through a pile of documents, handing Baron a large scroll, which he snatched and then departed.
“What is that?” Ariadra asked as he arrived back outside.
“This is the charter that each city signed to become a member of the alliance. Hopefully, if Sheabor and Aravas were smart enough to think things through, we'll find what we need in here.”
Baron scanned the document quickly.
“And just what are we looking for?” she asked.
“I'll know it when I see it.”
Ariadra gave him a chiding frown, to which he was oblivious. The representatives from the various towns began to arrive to the tent, with many more besides waiting outside to listen to what was said. Baron took Ariadra by the hand and made his way inside, still engrossed in the document. Sheabor glanced to him but started the meeting. Ariadra stood by Baron's side. Dhelgar, on the opposite side, near Sheabor, eyed her somewhat contemptuously. There was a general clamor of murmuring from outside the tent.
“Over the last two months, forces of Corcoran from the Banished Lands have run loose upon the Eastern Realm, first striking in townships of the Horctura, but now perhaps moving beyond into other territories,” Sheabor began. “We have also suffered multiple attacks upon our caravans by thieves and marauders. What can be done about this is being done. There is no further cause for alarm.”
“Corcoran's warriors have been spotted on the borderlands of our kingdom,” one of the representative from Forthura declared. “There can be no mistake as to their intentions. They are scouting for their next targets.”
“They've been heavily diminished,” Sheabor replied. “Can't you see that this is a ploy to frighten us? Before coming here, we had not had a single sighting of Corcoran's forces. And now, all of a sudden, we've had five confirmed sightings of warriors in black armor. They can't be planning to invade all five townships at once. They're only trying to shave away our support, to weaken this city to stall our progress.”
The representatives glanced at one another, trying to get a sense of the other's intentions. They all knew what was at stake. None of them wanted to be the first to remove his people's support from the project. If one removed their support, the rest would follow, and everything else would fall apart. It was almost brilliant that Corcoran's forces hadn't attacked. With an attack, it would give one of the representatives solid reason for leaving. But if all shared equally in the mere threat of attack, then if one left, all the rest would have equal cause to do the same.
“Perhaps you've allowed the forces of Corcoran to slip through your fingers because they are no longer an inconvenience to you,” Dhelgar spoke up amid the clamor. “What care do you have for the people you have left behind? You have everything you want right here. And in the meanwhile, our people back home live at risk.”
“I assure you, we're taking this very seriously,” Sheabor replied.
“The bottom line is that you don't need us to stay,” Dhelgar continued. “Our laborers have supplied your Builders with more than enough materials to keep working. What point is there in our continued presence?”
“If everyone leaves, this place will be defenseless. Can't you see, that's exactly what the enemy wants?”
A slow, smug smile grew on Dhelgar's face.
“And therein lies the problem,” Dhelgar replied. “You've chosen the safety of yourself and your own city, over the safety of our homes.”
A few of the other representatives murmured in approval but many stayed silent. It was clear that most still sided with Sheabor, but a few dissenters were trying to shift the tide. Dhelgar paused and looked around the room.
“Ogrindal will not continue to risk its people for this foolish endeavor.”
Sheabor clenched his jaw, holding up his hands as the people began to talk among themselves. Sheabor opened his mouth to reply.
“And how do you know that?” Baron asked from out of nowhere, cutting Sheabor off from responding, who looked at him quizzically as Dhelgar's eyes narrowed. The representatives ceased their clamor.
“How do you know that Ogrindal will remove it's support from this city?” Baron asked again.
“Because I declare it to be so,” Dhelgar replied.
“And who sir, are you?” Baron asked with a courteous smile.
Dhelgar opened his mouth for a reply but Baron cut him short.
“I'll tell you who you're not. You are not the voice that speaks for Ogrindal. In the absence of Gwaren, a qualified successor must be named. According to the laws laid down by this council, the right to speak in the council is passed in succession by rank and title. You, sir, have neither. I therefore nominate Ariadra, daughter of Tohrnan, of the leading council of Ogrindal.”
“This is outrageous!” Dhelgar said.
“Outrageous is that you stand before this council self-appointed and unwelcome,” Baron continued. “Your people may vote to overturn this decision if they wish. But Ariadra is daughter to one of the members of the council of Ogrindal. Who sir, are you?”
Dhelgar clenched his fists in fury. Sheabor wore an impressed look, while Ariadra, a shocked one. Baron glanced at her and smiled.
“All in favor of this decision?” Sheabor asked.
Many confirmed it, but a few did not. Some were hoping that Dhelgar would provide them an excuse to pull out their forces as well. But they wouldn't receive that luxury now. If they wanted to leave, they would have to find the courage to say it on their own. Dhelgar stormed out of the tent. All eyes were now on Ariadra, who still struggled to collect herself. She glanced to the other representative. But he only nodded to her, giving her the stage. Ariadra took a few moments to compose herself and gather her thoughts.
“As you know, the city Ogrindal was among the most damaged in the attack by Malfur,” Ariadra began. “We pledged our support to this place, because we knew that fighting for something greater than our own needs was the only way to face the coming darkne
ss. We will not withdraw our support from the building of this city. But we agree that something more must be done about this menace that threatens all of our peoples.”
Ariadra looked to Sheabor.
“Something will be done,” Sheabor said. “I vow it on my honor and my life.”
The rest began to murmur among themselves, but there was a general consensus that, provided a strong response from Sheabor, the people here would not remove their support from the city. Baron felt a swell of pride. This was a side of her he had not before seen – commanding, noble and regal. He gave her a wide smile and hugged her tightly. She laughed, embracing him but then pushing away at length in feigned exasperation.
“You could have warned me!” she exclaimed.
“Where's the fun in that?”
The group began to disperse from the tent. Sheabor came out into the open air and breathed a sigh of relief. Baron and Ariadra smiled and Sheabor turned to them.
“You've helped us dodge a fatal blow,” Sheabor began. “Next time, we may not be so fortunate.”
“Don't be such a worry wort,” Baron responded.
Sheabor laughed loudly and then departed. Baron and Ariadra retreated to the fires in the center of town, eating the evening meal together, and basking beneath the stars.
Departures and Arrivals
The next day, Baron was summoned early in the morning to the council tent, finding Sheabor inside and already arrayed in full battle armor, with the large Shade Stone shield laying atop his pack. Though the armor and shield had seen many battles, they looked as unmarred as the day they were made.
“You're leaving,” Baron said.
“I promised Ariadra, didn't I,” he replied with a smile.
Baron smirked.
“Corcoran's forces have been more clever than I hoped,” he continued. “They must be working with the remaining Dungeon Core still at large to strike fear into the hearts of our new allies. The sightings we've had are just a ploy to undermine our support but until the elites are found and confronted, they'll continue to be a threat.”
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 50