The thought filled her eyes again with tears, which she wiped away, clenching her jaw and plodding forward. As the sun fully disappeared from view, a chilling cold descended beneath the trees. And though she still wore her traveler's garb, it was ill-suited for the open elements on a cold winter night. Ariadra knew she couldn't stop tonight or she'd shiver in the cold till morning.
She walked on for what seemed like hours, watching the moon slowly rise overhead, offering a meager silvery hue to the forest. But a breeze began to gust, stinging her face and the weariness in her limbs compelled her to seek shelter, at least for an hour.
She began to collect pine boughs from the nearby places, laying them down beside a fallen tree to shelter her from the wind. At length, she stooped down and collapsed against the tree, pulling some of the pine boughs over her and pulling her legs up into her chest. Shivering for long minutes, she eventually grew warm and felt the relaxation of sleep come over her. She was leagues away from the city now. Even if they were searching for her, they'd have trouble finding her.
But Ariadra began to sense something as she lay there, a presence she couldn't fully describe. The forest always reacts to the presence of man, creatures stilling their movements to watch and to wait. She was well hidden, but if they were following her tracks, it wouldn't matter.
Ariadra listened but heard little. The forest had grown tense, the Forest Guard on the prowl. Then a twig snapped nearby and her eyes began to glisten with tears. They were near her, hunting her. Another sound of a heavy footfall hit just a stone's throw away. Her heart was pounding inside her chest. If they were looking for her, then things were as bad as her father said. Why couldn't they just let her go? Ariadra heard the sound of bowstring being drawn and footsteps just behind her.
“You there!” a voice commanded. “Stand up!”
The Return
Baron spent the days absorbed in his work, fortunate in a way that no shortage of duties existed to be done by the only Builder on hand. The wall was now twice as tall as a man, and would repel the fiercest bombardment, and Sheabor thought it time to at last set Baron to work on some of the actual structures of the city. There still hadn't been any word from Blair and Baron was growing anxious, having yet to go through the documents from the monastery. He made up his mind that later today, no matter what, he would make the time.
But all his thoughts were consumed with Ariadra, so much so that he almost couldn't stand it. The old Baron would have set out after her without hesitation, just as he had convinced Durian and Blair to leave for Thob Forest after a mysterious old man. The old Baron would have made some grand entrance in Ogrindal, surprising an elated Ariadra who would praise him for his spontaneity. Or so he imagined. But the new Baron knew there was more at stake than his relationship with Ariadra. There were people counting on him.
Now that the wall was well in hand, the actual design and layout of the city was underway. But Sheabor hadn't the time or skill for such things, so another man from Eulsiphion was appointed, whom all referred to merely as 'the architect.' It always made Baron smirk, for Eulsiphion had been built in totality over twelve centuries ago, scarcely changing in all that time. What in the world could this man, the architect, have ever constructed there?
The first building on the list was a grand council chamber where the meetings of all the peoples on the Eastern Realm could be held. Baron began the building on his own, early morning, according to the specifications of Sheabor. By midday, when he was well along, the architect arrived.
“Are you building a stable?” the architect asked, not offering any of the usual pleasantries.
Baron gazed at him blankly for long moments.
“It's the council chamber,” Baron replied at length.
“Do you really expect the nobility from all corners of the three kingdoms to come and meet in this?” the man asked.
“Yeah, why not?”
“Do you have any respect for your profession?” the architect asked.
“Not as much as some.”
The architect's eyes raised to the heavens as if in pain.
“Let's start with the basics, shall we? There are three types of columns.”
The architect pulled from his satchel three miniature carved columns, placing them on a nearby block of stone. Baron smirked, for they looked like child's toys, but he took one in hand nonetheless, raising it to his eyes. It was finely crafted, long and slender with a decorated cap on both ends that resembled a partially unrolled scroll. A second column was shorter than the first but still had the look of finery to it. The third and final column was short and fat, clearly the one to bear the brunt of the weight. Baron couldn't argue that these were better than his own designs.
“Columns, my dear Builder, are the key to an enduring structure. They provide the perfect combination of load bearing strength and handsome embellishment. Let's practice making some, shall we? Let me see you make a column of each kind.”
The architect shooed Baron along as though he were a child.
“You understand we're on a timetable,” Baron said.
“If you're going to do a thing, do it right or not at all,” he barked.
Baron sighed and shook his head. Arguing would only waste time and Sheabor had appointed this man as head of the design. So Baron got down to work, spending the rest of the morning constructing examples of the three columns the architect had shown him. By late morning, he had finished, and wore a pleased look on his face.
“Now then, this is number one,” the architect began, indicating the tall and slender column. “This is two,” for the middle column. “And this is three,” indicating the short, bulging column.
“We will use all three in every important building. Imagine it.”
Then the architect began pacing back and forth in regal manner, as though an eminent official from a distant kingdom.
“Number one will skirt the outer courtyards, the open columned lanes where members of state can discuss their issues before meetings. Number two will come into view just in the threshold of the inner sanctum, showing them that our true strength is hidden yet unwavering. And number three will bear the main central load in few, key locations, making the entire structure seem almost magical. Understood?”
Baron nodded eagerly.
“Good. Keep these three examples for reference,” he said. “We'll build the outer columns today and see how far we get.”
Just then, the bell rang out for the midday meal, rescuing Baron, who departed.
“Let me know if you need any further assistance,” the architect called out.
“I'll be sure to do that.”
Then Baron was gone, shaking his head in amused frustration. Where in the world had Sheabor found that man? But Baron was secretly grateful for his help. He couldn't wait for Ariadra to get back and see how beautiful their city was becoming.
Arriving at the center of town, Baron retrieved a bowl of stew, the same stew they ate for every midday meal. Supplies from Forthura were growing thin as winter fully set in. The alliance city would try their hand at crops in springtime, but until then, their only provender was from the good graces of King Froamb.
Baron sat down to enjoy his fare but a thought came to him and he immediately arose and departed, eating along the way. It was time at last to have a look through the documents from the monastery. Coming to the same tent where the black armor of the elite force was housed, Baron came past the guard with a nod, finding the wooden chest already opened and brimming with disheveled parchments. Blair had clearly been in a hurry rifling through them, and hadn't left them in any order.
Now, standing here, Baron hesitated. It would take days to go through so many papers. He'd hoped something would immediately jump out at him but all he saw before him was a giant mess. Taking the nearest document in hand, he found it to be a historical record of various kings – names, dates, successors, and deeds. Not a fantastic beginning. He put the document aside and went for another.
This was a record of
the war between Forthura and the barbarians, which piqued his attention. The war against the barbarians had already been long underway when Baron was born and he honestly didn't know when it had started or what had caused it. He read the document for long minutes until a particularly intriguing portion stuck out to him.
In the fourteenth year of King Rothan, war was kindled against the kingdom of Forthura by the scattered tribes of the barbarian Horctura. The treacherous massacre of the king's eldest son and his attendants, sent on an errand of peace though the Squall Highlands were ambushed by assailants of the Horctura and killed...
Baron set the paper down, recalling the story Pallin had told them when they first arrived in Eulsiphion about why the stones of the city had been streaked with blood red color, that the barbarians had ambushed an envoy from Eulsiphion. Pallin's story matched what the document said. But when Baron and the others had entered the Squall Highlands, there was a strange magic at work there, a mysterious malevolent force that sought to trap them. What if the king's envoy hadn't been ambushed by the barbarians at all? What if they had been trapped there instead? That would mean that the entire war against the barbarian tribes had been a mistake. Could that be?
Baron wanted to know more but knew there wasn't time and laid the record down, seeking another and rifling through the disordered mass to find something more pertinent. One parchment in particular caught his eye. It seemed to be a poem arranged into a strange circular shape and was signed by the name, Euthor:
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...
Baron's heart beat faster as he read the poem. It was beautiful and made him think of Ariadra, how he'd love nothing more than to steal away with her to some hidden island, and revel awhile in the joy of love. And Baron was struck by the final stanza of the poem. The poetic sentiment was touching, but he felt as though something deeper lingered beneath the surface of his thoughts. Blair believed King Euthor was somehow communicating with him. He claimed to have seen visions of King Euthor and his wife, Sheyla, in the Illian city. Is that what the final line of the poem spoke to?
Our unescaping memories will never fade away...
Not only that, but Baron could still vividly recall the sight of Sheyla entombed in crystal, undecayed and beautiful as the day she died. It was too much of a coincidence not to mean something deeper. But what about this poem could've so inspired Blair to leave on a wild errand? Was this island something real, or mere poetic fancy? If it did really exist, why would Blair want to go there? And how would he know how to find it? His mind was bursting for answers.
Baron laid the poem down beside him, intending to return to it if he found nothing else more concrete. Rifling through some more, he pulled a document that was an account of how the people of Forthura found and resettled in the city of Eulsiphion. Baron knew from his own recollection that the city hadn't been built by the present day people of Forthura. It had been a fortress from the Prosperous Age. The account told how the people of Forthura had originally lived among the highlands in the lands of the Horctura. There had apparently been flooding in various regions, and the lake beside Eulsiphion had been large enough at that time to completely envelop the city. But as the waters receded over the course of many years, slowly a breathtaking city emerged from the lake.
He continued through the chest, spotting another poem. It was the farewell poem to Sheyla, the same words inscribed on the side of Sheabor's hammer. Baron read it fondly, sighing at the end at how tragic their story was. Laying it down gently, he spotted another poem also signed with the name, Euthor:
The breezy cold, the clouds sail by,
Like lonely ships in ocean sky.
The grassy hills are misty wet,
As when the first night that we met;
As when we wandered slowly there
Beneath an ancient, starry air.
The twinkling city, far and deep,
Is slumb'ring softly in its sleep.
They rest, while we alone roam free,
Beneath our vast eternity –
Above the city, gazing down,
Strangers at the edge of town.
Let’s never break this spell we’re under.
Let’s flee into a world of wonder.
And all or nothing, hand in hand,
Let’s find our place and make our stand.
Baron's heart beat faster as he read, this poem moving him more than the others, for he was under the same spell as King Euthor had been, Baron like him, hoping it would never end. The poem filled Baron's imagination. He could almost see the two lovers stealing away from Eulsiphion to wander the rolling hillside, gazing back down at the twinkling city like strangers from a faraway kingdom. Perhaps they even used the same secret passageway that Estrien discovered that led to the base of the Squall Highlands.
But something struck him then that he hadn't considered before. Eulsiphion was still such a mystery. No one had known about the secret passageway Estrien discovered until Malfur exposed it as a way to get at Pallin. Where there other hidden things waiting there to be found? Eulsiphion had been the city King Euthor had reigned from before the Great War. If he was going to hide something somewhere for Baron and the others to find, Eulsiphion would be the perfect place.
Why hadn't he thought about that before? It seemed so obvious. That had to be where Blair went. It was the only thing that made sense. But Blair had said he was going to the sea. And none of the caravans from King Froamb had mentioned anything about Blair's arrival. So Baron's mind still swam with questions.
But the intrigue of all the wondrous things that could lay hidden in Eulsiphion filled his mind. Baron departed and made for the council tent to tell Sheabor of his discovery. Though he still was unsure that Eulsiphion was Blair's destination, it seemed more likely than not. Pushing the tent flap open, he found Sheabor standing over a map to their region, lost in thought. But looking up to see Baron, Sheabor smiled.
“How are things going with the architect?”
Baron shook his head and rolled his eyes in pronounced annoyance at the reminder. Sheabor chuckled.
“You two will get along fine. I know this city needs to function as a military installation, but it's important a city like this has the proper finery. We want to look welcoming, not menacing.”
Baron nodded and Sheabor gave him his attention. Opening his mouth to tell of his discovery, Baron heard the tent flap open behind him and a commotion outside, which made him pause and turn. Baron was dumbfounded to find himself suddenly staring at the weathered face of his twin brother. But Baron came forward and gave his brother a heartfelt embrace.
“Blair, you're back!” Baron exclaimed.
“Hello, brother.”
“Where in the world have you been?” Baron asked. “You've been gone over a month!”
“Securing our victory in this war.”
And with that, Blair unshouldered a bulging satchel, laying it down on the table, spilling its contents of sands. Neither Baron nor Sheabor knew what to make of it but Baron stepped forward and took some of the sand into his palms. The sands were colorful, like nothing he had seen before and Baron began to mold them, melting the varied grains into a single flowing liquid. As he did, the once colorful sands tu
rned dark and translucent and Baron's eyes went wide.
“What is it?” Sheabor asked.
“These sands are the material components for making Shade Stone, left for us by King Euthor to find,” Blair said.
Baron was speechless. He couldn't believe it. Blair hadn't been crazy at all.
“Where in the world did you find this?” Baron asked. “Was it in Eulsiphion?”
“Eulsiphion?” Blair asked. “No. It was on an island off the coast of Kester. There's an entire beach full of it. King Euthor hid it in plain sight, where no one would ever know to look. It was absolutely brilliant of him. We'll need to send a caravan to retrieve more immediately.”
Baron was in disbelief. The poem of the island he had just read...that must have been what led Blair to the island. But how?
“Give me the location of the island and we'll send a caravan straightaway,” Sheabor said.
“How in the world did you find an island off the coast of Kester?” Baron asked.
Blair breathed in deep and considered for long moments.
“I don't know really. I just found it. Right when I first read the poem, I knew somehow I was destined to find it. So I just went in the direction my heart told me.”
Baron glanced to Sheabor with a smile and a shake of his head.
“You know how crazy that sounds, don't you?”
Blair chuckled and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.
“What did you mean when you said that this sand would secure our victory in the war?” Sheabor questioned.
“Well, for one thing, we'll have enough sands to craft weapons and armor like those we found in the tomb of Sheyla.”
But that wasn't the whole answer, for Blair began to pace as though he were gathering his thoughts.
“King Euthor alone, of all the Builders, learned the method for crafting indestructible stone,” Blair continued. “He has gone to great lengths to help us do the same. I think the reason why is because he knew that Corcoran couldn't be killed. Have you thought about how we'll defeat him once he finally invades these lands?”
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 60