The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  But Baron was surprised when he awoke the next day to see caravans leaving from the alliance city toward the Espion Forest to harvest lumber. Bowen had found them a job to keep them busy. Baron smiled and set about his work but Bowen came and found him near midday. Baron chuckled and shook his head, nodding to the line of carts traveling like ants in and out of the city.

  “Buildings can't be made entirely of stone,” Bowen said, defensively. “We'll need the lumber for roofs eventually.”

  “We're a ways out from that,” Baron laughed.

  “Actually, Baron, I had something else in mind.”

  Then Bowen took a step forward and glanced about.

  “I'm going to have them hew the wood and stack it near the wall. Once they've gathered enough, I'm going to have them make pikes we can bury in the wall, sticking out to keep riders and ladders at bay.”

  Baron was surprised.

  “You still think the attack will happen here, even with Sheabor tracking them down?”

  “I don't know, Baron. Everything they're doing just seems like a ploy to make this city as defenseless as possible. What I'm doing with the laborers isn't going to last much longer. But before they abandon us, we need to fortify this city as much as possible.”

  “Alright,” Baron replied. “I trust your judgment.”

  Bowen was right. After only a few days of harvesting lumber, the leader of the laborers guild came wandering over to Baron one morning. Baron didn't remember his name.

  “Baron, I've come to speak with you,” he said.

  Baron didn't stop his work or turn round to greet him.

  “Why do you wish to speak with me?” Baron asked. “Bowen is in charge of the affairs of the laborers.”

  “I came to reason with you, Baron. Bowen is doing a fine job of keeping our forces occupied while you slowly build the walls of this city. But we both know the truth. You don't need all of us here. Especially without your brother, there's no chance you can keep up with the rate we're bringing stone to you.”

  Baron closed his eyes but didn't reply.

  “We've come to a decision, Baron. We're taking the bulk of our forces home, at least until Sheabor returns with news that Corcoran's forces have been defeated. Sheabor didn't know Blair was going to leave. He never would have asked us all to stay. Corcoran's forces are planning something...a major assault. Why should we stay here, when we're no use to anyone? Better to defend our homes.”

  Baron didn't begrudge them. In his heart of hearts, he would do the same. Baron stopped his work and turned, embracing the man like a brother.

  “I appreciate that you would tell me yourself.”

  The worst had happened. Apart from Bowen, Ariadra, and those laborers loyal to the project, Baron was on his own. Baron clenched his jaw and set himself to the task before him. He would see this project completed if it was the last thing he did. He was now the iron in the fire, the blows of the hammer stripping away the dross and strengthening him. What he had available to him would be enough, and nothing would stand in his way.

  Shadows Falling

  Baron and Bowen stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the dozens of caravans winding away from the city. More than half their forces had now departed. But those who had stayed were more than ever committed to the cause. It was just as well, Baron thought. As they stood there, someone ran up from behind.

  “Estrien is awake and asking to speak to Baron,” the man said.

  Baron and Bowen turned to each other and quickly followed the man to the healer's tent. It had been three days since Estrien had arrived, very nearly dying from fever and total exhaustion. Baron asked to speak with her but the healers wouldn't dare wake her. Now it was finally time to get some answers.

  Throwing open the tent flap, he found Estrien resting but not asleep. Her healer was from Ogrindal, one of the few who stayed behind. Their people were gifted in the knowledge of herbal remedies and cures. But the healer's solemn gaze told them Estrien wasn't out of the woods. Estrien was pale white like a ghost and her frame had grown thin. Baron came over and took her hand.

  “We thought we might lose you there a couple of times,” he said as though everything was just fine now. “But the people of Ogrindal are incredible healers.”

  She nodded her head, but her look was one of weariness, as though she were tired of fighting and closed her eyes, summoning her strength.

  “They told me most of your forces are leaving.”

  Baron nodded.

  “You must stop them.”

  “It's too late,” Baron replied. “They're already gone. But we have more than enough workers to keep building the city.”

  Estrien closed her eyes for long moments as though in pain. Baron squeezed her hand tightly.

  “No...don't you see...they're coming...coming here...they're going to attack.”

  “Who?”

  “The forces of Corcoran...hired mercenaries...from Kester. When I was captive...I saw them...they paid them...gave them their armor.”

  Baron glanced to Bowen to see if he was thinking the same thing as he. All the sightings of black-armored warriors in various lands. It must have been the mercenaries dressed up as the forces of Corcoran. But it had worked. They had lured Sheabor and the best of their warriors away from the city along with more than half their workforce.

  “Where is Sheabor?” she asked.

  “He set off in pursuit of Corcoran's forces.”

  A pained expression came over her face.

  “You need to warn them,” she said with difficulty. “It's a trap.”

  It was getting difficult for her to continue. She closed her eyes and the healer placed a warm, wet cloth on her forehead.

  “She needs rest,” he said, escorting them away.

  But she pushed herself up a bit.

  “Straiah?” she asked.

  Baron leaned out past the healer.

  “He's alive?” Baron asked.

  Estrien nodded and a tear formed in her eye. Baron didn't know what to say. He was elated that she thought him alive, but confused by her question.

  “No, we haven't heard anything,” Baron responded.

  Estrien nodded and laid back down.

  “I'm so tired, Baron,” she said.

  Baron pulled free from the healer and returned to Estrien's side, taking her hand in his.

  “You're going to pull through,” Baron said.

  “If I don't waken, please tell Straiah I'm sorry.”

  “You will awaken,” Baron comforted. “You're going to be just fine.”

  “Please Baron.”

  The way she was talking broke his heart. She looked so tired of fighting, like she just wanted to let go. Then closing her eyes, she lost consciousness. Baron clenched his jaw and turned to the healer.

  “Do everything you can for her.”

  “Thank you,” said the healer. “Until now, I've been using half-measures. Now I'll take her condition more seriously.”

  The healer pushed Baron from the tent, finding Bowen who had already retreated outside.

  “Is she going to make it?” Baron asked the healer.

  “It's up to her now,” the healer replied. “Either the fever will take her or she'll fight it and live.”

  Then the healer returned to the tent.

  “Can we warn Sheabor?” Baron asked, already knowing the answer.

  “He's too far. We'd never make it in time.”

  Baron's heart sank. He felt utterly helpless. Without Sheabor, everything would fall apart. And if the forces of Corcoran captured his hammer, any hope of freeing the powers of the Windbearers would be lost. How had things taken such a bad turn? But Baron wasn't so resigned as to give up his life without a fight. And Sheabor could take care of himself. If anyone could sniff out a trap, it would be him. It was a thin hope, but Baron clung tightly to it.

  Baron and Bowen reached the low walls of the city about head high. Bowen gazed at them for long moments, lost in thought.

  “
What is it?” Baron asked.

  “We've had dealings with mercenaries before,” Bowen said. “If Estrien is right, then we have a problem. They're highly trained.”

  Baron clenched his jaw.

  “We need to do whatever we can to keep them outside the city. If we bury pikes all along the base of the wall, they'll think twice about a raid. And we're going to need bows, lots of them. And arrows. If the battle turns to hand to hand combat, the city will surely fall.”

  Baron didn't like the sound of that. Baron glanced to the piles of timbers scatted along the inside of the wall, more than enough to spike the outside of the wall.

  “We're going to build catapults,” Baron declared.

  Bowen's eyes lit up in intrigue.

  “Do you know the mechanics of catapults?” Baron asked.

  Bowen smiled slowly.

  “More or less.”

  “Let's hope it's more than less,” Baron replied.

  Bowen laughed.

  “Get all the remaining laborers assembled. We're back in business.”

  “We'll convene a meeting at the council tent in twenty minutes,” Bowen said.

  Baron nodded and got quickly back to work until the last possible moment. Then he sprinted away from the wall to the meeting, which had already begun, though not at the council tent. Everyone had gathered at the center of town, too many wanting to hear Bowen's announcement. Bowen had already explained the situation and their plan. He called upon the leaders of each people to affirm their support. Baron came over to Ariadra and stood by her side. She was the first to speak.

  “The people of Ogrindal will commit themselves to the coming battle. And to whatever needs to be done.”

  Bowen nodded and Baron spoke up.

  “We don't need everyone to stay to the end,” Baron said. “Just the warriors.”

  Ariadra gave him a hard stare, as though she knew what he was implying. He was going to try and send her away. The rest of the representatives swore their support and the group disbanded, each to their new task. Baron turned to Ariadra, surprised to find an angry look on her face.

  “You need to leave before the fighting starts,” Baron said, squeezing her hands.

  “No,” she responded, shaking her head. “I'm not leaving.”

  “It's too dangerous here. There's going to be a battle and you're not a warrior.”

  “Neither are you,” she fired back.

  Baron opened his mouth for a reply, but only sighed at length. She was right, of course. He felt such a barrage of emotions. Part of him just wanted to flee this place forever, take Ariadra with him back to Suriya and live a quiet life away from adventure and danger. But another half of him felt a fierce dedication to honor those who had fought so hard already and given up their lives.

  “I made a vow,” Baron began. “A vow that I would finish this city if it was the last thing I did. I can't leave. But you can. You can come back when this is all over.”

  Ariadra's eyes were filling with tears.

  “You can't ask me to leave!” she said. “Do you think you're the only one who cares about this city? Do you think you're the only one who cares what happens to Estrien and Straiah and Sheabor? Do you think I can just walk away while the rest of you fight and die?”

  Baron could only nod and stare down at the ground.

  “I'm sorry,” Baron said. “I just don't know what I'd do if I lost you.”

  She wiped the tears away from her eyes and the two embraced tightly. They both had to see things through, no matter what. Baron couldn't believe he had found someone like Ariadra...someone willing to risk her life along with the rest, to struggle and to fight and sacrifice for what she had come to believe in. His life had become something greater than he ever dreamed possible.

  Bowen was waiting on the outskirts of the town square for Baron. Baron noticed him and nodded, squeezing Ariadra's shoulders and kissing her, then departing to meet Bowen. The two set off quickly toward the wall.

  “The catapults will fire further if you can bury the main support beams into the stone foundation,” Bowen said. “I think we'll have wood enough only for three, but that should be enough. If the mercenaries see large chunks of rock flying at them, they may reconsider attacking the city. We'll need to keep the catapults protected as much as possible.”

  Baron just wished they knew what they were up against. Would they come at them with a hundred men or a thousand? Would they bring siege works of their own? None could say. And none knew when the attack would come. In some ways, it was strange they hadn't attacked already. But the bulk of the laborers had only just left. The city was at its most vulnerable.

  “I'll try to build some shielding for the catapults and the archers,” Baron said. “It won't be much, but I'll do my best. I'll need some helpers to bring me piles of material up onto the wall.”

  Bowen nodded and both set off to work, neither knowing how much time they had. The city was a flurry, each performing their own tasks. Baron worked with dozens of their strongest workers who helped add spikes to the outer wall. Baron softened the stone enough to let the base of the poles sink into it, and once they stood diagonally outward at the right angle, he solidified the wall around them. Another warrior followed behind with a large broadsword, cleaving the tips of the poles into sharpened spikes.

  It took him most of the day to cover the wall with spikes but it truly looked menacing when completed. Any force would think twice now about attacking this place. Then Baron left the wall. The day was growing late, and already the sky was transforming to a beautiful orangy yellow. The work on the catapults was very slow going. But they had the main support beams laid out atop the stone foundation.

  The men began to hoist one of the beams into the air, each beam over ten feet tall and weighing a few hundred pounds. When they had hoisted the first beam into position, straight up and down, Baron placed the palms of his hands on the stone foundation. He concentrated, but the stone remained firm. Blair had made it very strong and Baron couldn't seem to manipulate it.

  Baron closed his eyes, everyone watching him. But the thought of Ariadra came to mind and the fear for her safety hit him, and suddenly, the stone foundation began to swirl subtly and the beam sank slowly down. But even with its heavy weight, it sank no more than a foot into the foundation. But when Baron hardened the stone, the beam was completely locked in place. It would snap far before the stone would crack.

  The other beams were likewise set in place and the engineers went to work attaching levers and wheels. Next to each catapult, Baron began to form rocks of decent size, perfectly round that would hit the ground and roll. And he fashioned handholds within them so the warriors could load them easier. Whoever these mercenaries were, they were in for a shock if they attacked this place.

  But something still made Baron's heart sink as darkness took hold of the land. The forces of Corcoran knew that Builders were here. Something told Baron they'd already thought of a way to neutralize what Baron hoped was a brilliant strategy. Torches were lit and carried to all the work sites. They weren't going to rest until the city was fully defensible. By morning, this city would cost invaders dearly to conquer.

  Around midnight, Ariadra walked to Baron with a bowl of warm stew. Starving, he ate as quickly as the steaming liquid allowed. He was just finishing turning the piles of rubble into the round stones for the catapults. Ariadra grabbed a torch and held it close, helping him see his work more clearly, and marveled as she watched.

  “You know, I've never just sat and watched you work before,” she said. “It's so amazing what you can do.”

  Baron smiled. It truly was a wonder. He still couldn't get over it himself. As she watched, she noticed that all his stones seemed to contain a light swirl to the right, even the pendant he had made for her in Ogrindal.

  “Why do you swirl it like that?” she asked.

  “I don't,” he replied. “It does it on its own. The stones I make are lightly swirled the right. But hold the torch down to
the foundation. The stones Blair makes have little spots if you look close enough. It's subtle. You don't even notice at first. It's like a signature, I guess...like a piece of myself embedded in the stone. Makes you wonder if all the Builders had their own unique design. That would be something, wouldn't it?”

  Ariadra nodded and smiled as Baron finished his task with a sigh. It was early in the morning now. Bows, along with stacks of arrows were piled a few feet apart along the wall, hundreds of them. The final catapult was being assembled close by and Baron heard Bowen arguing with the engineers. Bowen was standing over them, managing the process, explaining the assemblage of the various wheels, springs and levers as though they hadn't already done it two times before just minutes ago.

  Baron smiled but he dare not linger long. He still had one more task, create some kind of shielding atop the wall for their archers. The mercenaries would have archers of their own and none of the alliance warriors had handheld shields to protect themselves. But building shielding into the wall seemed an impossible endeavor. Baron could only do his best. The laborers had already piled sands and rubble atop the wall and Baron got to work.

  Light began to glow upon the far horizon. Baron couldn't work any longer and he and Ariadra walked to town square for the morning meal. Baron thought of Blair, whom he hadn't thought of for days now. Where was he? Had he found what he was looking for? Ariadra saw Baron lost in thought.

  “Just wondering about Blair and where he is,” Baron said.

  “I'm sure he's safe,” she replied.

  “Safer than us anyway,” Baron replied with a wide smile.

  Ariadra gave him a scolding look but couldn't suppress a smile of her own and shook her head.

  “Wouldn't it be a laugh if Estrien had just been delirious from fever, and there wasn't any real danger at all, and we were doing all of this for nothing?” Baron continued.

  Ariadra gave him a hard stare. That wouldn't be funny at all. Just then, a trumpet call rang out. One of the watchmen on the wall had sounded the alarm for battle.