The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  Jaithur stared at Sheabor with suspicion but accepted his answer with a bow.

  “That is not the reason I am here, of course,” he said and motioned with his hand for them to speak in private.

  “I guessed as much,” said Sheabor, chuckling.

  Sheabor invited him and his party toward the main council tent. Jaithur's son, Sorren, Aravas, Estrien and Blair accompanied them and soon the group was alone in the large tent.

  “I have information for you that will be of interest,” Jaithur announced. “I met two of your companions in a town called Stillguard, not far southwest of here. A young man named Durian and an old man named Pallin, who if I didn't know better, is this man's relation.”

  He motioned toward Aravas.

  “What!” Sheabor exclaimed. “Where are they now?”

  “They asked to be taken to the coast,” Sorren replied. “I saw to it myself. They believed there was an island off the western coast of Kester very important for them to find.”

  Sheabor turned in disbelief to Blair. That was the same island Blair had discovered. Sheabor turned to the back tent wall, completely lost in thought.

  “I don't know what's so special about this island of yours,” Jaithur said. “But I know you sent a convoy bound for it not long ago posing as merchants of the Jedra. We pride ourselves on our information, and so it came as quite a shock that an island of such importance existed to which my people had no prior knowledge.”

  Sheabor turned and smiled, seeing that the mystery was getting under his skin. Jaithur could have no way of knowing that Durian and Pallin were led there by a glowing stone uncovered from the tomb of Sheyla, or that Blair had gone there because King Euthor had left a very special kind of sand for them to find. Jaithur was waiting to see if Sheabor would readily reveal what he knew about this mysterious island, but after several long moments of silence Jaithur continued.

  “Agents of Kester began tracking your convoy the moment it left this place. They have taken a keen interest in your city, and also in the Jedra. You would have had better luck posing as one of us if the Jedra had not recently had conflict with Kester. But now we are all being watched. I can tell you that your convoy arrived safely at the port city, Edessa and from there, they sailed to the island, loading up a mysterious cargo and departing. The forces from K'venneh almost didn't stop them because they thought it might be a trick of some kind. For the convoy was loaded with nothing but sand. The convoy made it to within a few hundred leagues of your city. But yesterday, a squadron was dispatched from the fortress, K'venneh, which captured your convoy and its cargo.”

  Sheabor clenched his jaw. This was not good news. With everything else that had already gone wrong, this might just be the final nail in the coffin.

  “Are you quite certain your information is correct?” Sheabor asked, face downcast as he pressed his palms into the wooden table.

  “The Jedra have eyes everywhere.”

  Jaithur could see how devastating his news was for Sheabor, though he couldn't understand why.

  “Tell me,” Jaithur began. “What's so important about this island of yours?”

  Sheabor unsheathed the hammer from his back, handing it to Jaithur.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  “In a way, yes. Your friend, Pallin, carried a similar weapon.”

  “They were made by the hand of King Euthor, a Builder of the First Age. It's Shade Stone, indestructible by ordinary means. The sands of that island were left for us by King Euthor himself. They are the material components for making Shade Stone.”

  Jaithur was greatly astonished, so much so that he seemed dubious of the truth of Sheabor's claim.

  “How did you come by this information?” Jaithur inquired.

  “Blair found it,” Sheabor said with a nod in his direction. “He's a Builder, with skill and power like those of the First Age. He has a connection with King Euthor. It's difficult to explain. I'm not sure I understand it myself.”

  “Don't send anymore convoys to this island,” Jaithur declared suddenly.

  “You don't understand,” Blair broke in. “We need those sands to win the coming war.”

  “I don't doubt it,” Jaithur responded. “But you need someone more versed in the art of secrecy if you genuinely hope to secure it. We will acquire this sand for you, and hold it in trust until you're ready for its use.”

  Jaithur gave them a low bow. His offer was generous but Sheabor eyed him for long moments. Jaithur now knew how valuable this sand really was and Sheabor couldn't pay him anything to embark on such a risky mission. What benefit would it give the Jedra to embark on the long and dangerous mission of acquiring it for the alliance city? Sheabor couldn't help but be suspicious of his motives.

  But in the end, Sheabor knew he had little choice. Kester would never allow convoys to travel freely, and soon, when the giants made their move, he doubted that anyone beyond skilled smugglers like the Jedra had any kind of chance at getting the sands Sheabor needed. In a way, it was almost good that their first cargo of sand had been captured. He lost one convoy, but with the help of the Jedra would gain the rest.

  “I should tell you,” Sheabor began. “Your task might not be as easy as you think. We have strong reason to believe that the giants of Aeleos will soon be sending war parties through the lands of Kester toward the Westward Wilds. When that happens, it's likely that all of Kester will go into lock down. Based on how they've responded so far, they seem to be on the tipping point. It could lead to open war – perhaps not against the giants, but certainly against this city. If Kester declares war, we'll have no choice but to retreat to the lands of Forthura. You will be alone.”

  Jaithur was visibly troubled by the information, but nodded slowly, as though working something out in his mind.

  “We will manage as we always have,” Jaithur decided. “There's one other thing that I came here to tell you. Your comrade at arms, Bowen, has also been imprisoned in the fortress, K'venneh.”

  “What! Why?”

  “For aiding you, presumably.”

  Sheabor leaned forward again on the table around where they stood and squeezed the wood with all his might. Kester was beginning to infuriate him. His prior feelings of discouragement and frustration were kindling into wrath.

  “What is wrong with this continent!” he exclaimed.

  “Everything,” Jaithur relayed with a smile. “This continent is a churning tempest of self-interest. But the trick with being caught in a storm is to not be driven by it, but to head straight through it until the pathway out presents itself.”

  His declaration struck Sheabor.

  “If you have a suggestion, I'm more than open to it.”

  Jaithur didn't.

  “If you don't mind, I'd like to rest and recover my strength,” Jaithur said. “The journey was long.”

  “Of course. I'll see that the quartermaster finds you and your party lodging.”

  “Unnecessary,” he replied. “The Jedra are always on the move. We bring our homes with us.”

  The man bowed and Sheabor returned the courtesy. Then he departed from the tent and Sheabor turned away, silent for many moments, almost forgetting that Blair, Aravas and Estrien still lingered. Blair turned and departed as well, having much work to do, but Aravas was gazing at Sheabor intently, allowing him time to think. At length, Sheabor turned almost in surprise to see Aravas and Estrien still standing there.

  “You must find something that forces Kester and the Bearoc to join your cause,” Aravas declared.

  “Something?” he said back in distracted frustration.

  “Right now, they're acting on their own because it's more convenient for them to do so. Make it less convenient. They're ignoring you because you've allowed them to. Do something they don't expect; make it more inconvenient for them to avoid you than to join you. They don't want to deal with you, but they don't want conflict with you either. They trust you'll be a good soldier and stay out of everyone's way. Make them
think differently.”

  Riddles weren't really what Sheabor was hoping for. He looked to Estrien for a clue but she seemed as in the dark as he. At length, Sheabor greatly desired his solitude and opened his mouth to tell them so, but a thought he hadn't considered suddenly came to mind.

  Up until this point, Sheabor had been concerned with points on a map, of strategic, defensible positions. He hadn't thought abstractly, as in pieces on a board. He hadn't thought of the power he possessed to be a nuisance to those who had yet to join him. Baron and Blair could build armor that would give his soldiers the ability to move faster than any other force. He thought of all the damage the forces of Corcoran had caused with just a single ship of warriors.

  Up until now, Sheabor had acted predictably and rationally. His motives were easy to determine and therefore could be reasonably well predicted and ignored. Aravas was suggesting that he make himself less of a known quantity and more of a thorn in the side. It had the advantage of being interesting. And Sheabor was more than willing to become a burden now to the kingdom of Kester.

  It wasn't in Sheabor's nature to be manipulative. He always trusted a person to choose to do the right. But in a situation like this, maneuvering your opponents into a position advantageous to you might be more valuable than building yourself a strong and defensible position. Instead of fighting fair, stack the odds in your favor. But how? That was the question.

  Aravas didn't have any insight on that matter. But it gave Sheabor hope. For on the Banished Lands, he had never operated through open confrontation. The people of Cavanah always worked in the shadows, using stealth and speed to strike at Corcoran and then escape. That kind of warfare was what he knew best. It was time to get back to the basics.

  The Escape

  Ariadra had been in Ogrindal for ten days, her anxious thoughts springing up like weeds in spring. Baron would be tortured not knowing where she was or why she hadn't sent word. What wild thoughts must be going through his mind! Ariadra's strength had all but returned, though it had taken longer than she wished, and the nagging feeling she was being watched made her and Dahlgrin ever so cautious, lest any grow suspicious.

  Even her father seemed to know that something deeper was going on beyond what she was letting on. But since her decision to leave, Ariadra had built a wall around her heart and decorated it with a happy face. She'd kept her father and Aerova at arm's length, fearful they'd see the truth if they got too close. It pained her, for they could sense she had grown distant from them, and were worried she'd never return to the Ariadra they'd always known. But that couldn't be helped.

  Ariadra worked in one of the buildings once used by the healers. After the plague had abated, the healers had ordered that all the linens be burned. The blankets and bedding were cast into the fire, leaving the people defenseless against the cold. Ariadra worked to replenish their supply, glad to lend a helping hand, and hoping to leave Ogrindal a better place than when she entered.

  But when she was alone, she spent the time sewing heavy coats for her and Dahlgrin. She kept them tucked away beneath one of the beds, and pulled them out anytime she had a minute of freedom. Though she had gotten them ready days ago and Dahlgrin had assembled the other supplies, foul weather had struck, piling fresh snow upon the city and forestalling her escape. Any day now, the time would come.

  Ariadra was working late one evening, looking over their coats for the hundredth time, when she sensed someone behind her. She tried acting as though she hadn't noticed and slowly pulled a nearby blanket over the top of the coat, then pretended to mend the blanket and carry on in her work. After half a minute had gone by, she heard a creak in the wooden doorway and turned round to find her father standing there.

  “Father, you startled me. What are you doing here?”

  “It feels like I haven't seen you in days.”

  Tohrnan took a step toward her and Ariadra turned to face him, doing her best to shield her work without being obvious.

  “I know you're angry with me and I've been trying to give you your space,” he continued. “I wish you would realize that your sister and I only want to help you.”

  Ariadra took a deep breath, her heart beating quickly. Earlier in the week, she would have cheerfully assured him that everything was just fine. But the excuse had grown stale and she knew he would see through her charade.

  “Whinden was right about one thing,” she said. “I have become an outsider. I don't belong here anymore. I wish I didn't feel this way and I've been trying to hide it, but I've seen too much of the outside world. Sheabor and Baron are fighting for the freedom of the whole continent, and I'm stuck here mending blankets!”

  She could tell her reply was hurtful even though she didn't mean it to be. But it was the truth, or at least as much of the truth as she was willing to share.

  “I'm sorry you feel that way,” Tohrnan replied.

  The sternness in his voice filled her with anger, but she didn't let it show. She felt so delicate, so prone to the whims of her tattered emotions, ready to crack and lash out any moment. She wished he would just go away! But she wasn't going to let her emotions slip, not when she was so close. He would do everything he could to stop her if he got even the slightest inkling of the truth. The thought made her furious.

  “I know this is very difficult for you, Ariadra. But it's difficult for us too. We're just trying to survive.”

  “I know,” she said. “Things will get better in time.”

  “Why don't you come home with me. It's late. I'll walk with you.”

  Ariadra felt a flash of fear.

  “I'm uh, not quite finished here. Go on without me. I'll be along within the hour.”

  “For someone who thinks her task is menial, you certainly work hard at it.”

  Ariadra smiled awkwardly. She didn't know what to say. With him standing there, she couldn't uncover the coat hidden beneath the blanket and return it to its hiding place.

  “I doubt the linens are going anywhere,” he continued. “I'm sure you can pick right back up in the morning.”

  Ariadra was speechless and frozen for the moment. Her heart was pounding as her thoughts raced for an excuse. But nothing came. Another few moments and her father would start grow suspicious. So, with a smile, she took a step toward the door. Tohrnan followed behind and two stepped into the open air. Just outside, Dahlgrin was approaching, which startled Ariadra who in turn, startled him. She hadn't expected him to be here and he hadn't expected Tohrnan.

  Ariadra looked at Dahlgrin with worried eyes, and glanced over her shoulder toward the building she had just left. Dahlgrin's eyes showed confusion, that he understood she was trying to communicate something, but didn't know just what. Dahlgrin didn't generally walk her home at the end of the evening, making the entire exchange awkward. He must have been here to discuss a recent development in their plan and it was terrible luck to run into him with her father just beside her.

  “I'll accompany my daughter home, Dahlgrin. You are free to go.”

  Dahlgrin bowed and said not a word, turning to depart. Ariadra glanced quickly to her father but couldn't discern if he had seen anything amiss. She just wanted to run away and never look back. She hated being so on edge. But she set off with her father briskly toward home, her heart still racing. Tohrnan could see she was agitated.

  “What's wrong?”

  “It's nothing,” she replied. “It's just...seeing Dahlgrin always bothers me, especially when he shows up unexpectedly. It makes me feel like such a child how they're treating me. I have no privacy at all.”

  Her father nodded slowly.

  “Don't hold it against him. Dahlgrin's a good man.”

  “I try not to. It isn't his fault, I know. How long do you think it will be like this?”

  Tohrnan shook his head.

  “In another day or so, I'll ask that the council stop following your activities.”

  “I'd appreciate that. It'll help things get back to normal.”

  He nodde
d eagerly. But things would never be normal. That's what her father didn't understand. He kept talking as though one day, if they just worked hard enough, things would again be the way they were. But he was wrong. Ogrindal was changed forever. And the death of her mother had altered her family inexorably.

  She hated that it didn't seem to affect him like it did her. He seemed perfectly willing to just go on with his life and do the best that he could. She couldn't move on. When she had first arrived home, he appeared broken apart by the death of his wife. He had been angry with her and bitter for her leaving them. She almost preferred that to the relationship she had with him now.

  They soon arrived home, Ariadra weary from anxiety. Aerova was there and quick to offer some food she'd prepared.

  “I think I'll turn in,” Ariadra said. “It's been a long day.”

  “Oh,” said Aerova.

  Tohrnan looked at her with a pained expression but said nothing. Ariadra caught his gaze, and for the first time in a week, she felt her heart go out to him. She was about to risk her life in a foolhardy attempt to escape and could very well die. And even if she didn't, if she actually made it through the mountain pass, she didn't know when or if she'd ever see her father and sister again. This could be their very last night together. The thought caused a wave of emotion to sweep over her and her eyes began to well up with tears. She was still so raw. It was hard for her to mask her feelings.

  “Actually,” she said. “I'd love some food.”

  “Perfect!” Tohrnan replied.

  “This was mother's favorite!” Aerova said, dishing up a plate for both new arrivals.

  Ariadra took the food and began to eat, the memories flooding back. Though it tasted different, Aerova had indeed made their mother's favorite venison dish with vegetables and alegmon sauce.

  “Do you remember the first time that mother tried to simmer alegmon sauce?” Ariadra asked her sister.

  Aerova laughed at the question. The entire house stank of foul urine. Alegmon was a very delicate fruit. If prepared correctly, it imparted a subtle, yet delicious flavor. If prepared incorrectly...results varied. Then Ariadra, Aerova, and Tohrnan laughed as they recalled memories of times long passed. Yet Ariadra was saddened. It would be easier to bear if her family was angry at her. Soon, they would be.