Seed of Scorn

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  Hushar gasped. “When she returned after Draizeyn’s death. Before the battle, Daracus used her badly, and I tended Sarai myself.”

  “No one can learn about this,” Pentanimir said. “We didn’t want to keep anything from you, but we couldn’t risk anyone learning his true paternity. Everyone believes that the line of Vereux has ended. We’re pleased that this isn’t so, yet some might not appreciate a Vereux of mixed heritage. For now, it’s better if he’s known only as a Benoist. He’ll be safe here in the citadel.”

  “Do you understand, Mother?” Temian asked, moving to her side. “Just as Tardison has a purpose to fulfill, so shall…” his voice trailed off as he looked at Pentanimir.

  “Ayrmeis. The babe will be known as Ayrmeis Thaon Benoist.”

  Temian nodded. “Ayrmeis has a greater purpose as well. The Guardians haven’t revealed what might come to pass, but that much is true. Just as they brought Father’s children together to help liberate Faélondul, Ayrmeis must be allowed to fulfill his purpose, too.”

  “I understand.”

  “Has there been word from Kaleo?” Pentanimir asked.

  “Dalia is en route now,” Temian said. “She was reluctant to come to Nazil, yet she agreed to do so for her sister.”

  “What do we know about her, did Yonas have any new information?”

  “Not much. Dalia has remained much to herself after the dissolution of her marriage. I’m told she’s returned to their family home, but no one had seen her since the wedding.” Temian regarded him closely. “In her current state, do you truly feel it’s necessary for her to come?”

  “I believe that Sarai will need her whether she realizes this or not. What she’s done is no small thing. Daracus may have sired Ayrmeis, but he’s still her son. I can’t fathom the pain of relinquishing your child to another. Perhaps they can help each other heal.”

  “Who’s Dalia?” Hushar asked.

  “She’s Sarai’s elder sister,” Temian said. “Dalia shouldn’t learn about Ayrmeis, either. That truth must remain with us.”

  Meeting in Spero

  “How long would you like to stay?” Hosdaq asked, standing to fill their cups.

  “Gali and I will be leaving on the morrow,” Julaybeim said. “There’s much to do if the reports from Nazil are accurate.”

  “Indeed. It’ll be the same for Reinhold and me,” Yonas said. “There are more sentries to train and the village walls aren’t fully restored.”

  Hosdaq nodded, taking his seat at the head of the table. He scrutinized the message again, and then set the parchment aside. “How immediate is the threat from Yarah?”

  “From what I was told, it’s a presage of something larger. The Caretaker took heed of Pentanimir’s advice and increased his guard, but that alone may not be enough,” Julaybeim said, taking a drink.

  “There’s been no word of the uprising here in Spero, but I take no comfort in that,” Hosdaq said. “When more learn about Molag Bomgaard, I fear that a greater following will emerge. Some only await a cause to join against the new Zaxson and Caretakers.”

  Reinhold nodded. “The sooner proper defenses are in place, the better. I’ve been working with our sentries in formulating a plan to protect Kaleo. Currently, there are no Nazilians present in the village, but that can change at any time.”

  “Yes,” Yonas agreed. “We won’t keep them out. They’re welcome in the village, and many come for trade or following the caravans. Now that the violence has subsided, I welcome them back into the village.”

  “This is good,” Julaybeim said. “If relations between the humans and Nazilians would normalize, mayhaps Molag won’t gain much momentum and this insanity he preaches will fall on deaf ears.”

  “This would be the hope,” Amare said, drawing their attention. “Unfortunately, it could also be a way for those who share Molag’s beliefs to infiltrate the cities and villages. It would be prudent to keep a watchful eye. My friends, Weisheng and Déshì reported some unrest, and an attack not long ago. Once they return from their trek, I’d like to enlist their assistance.”

  “Agreed,” Yonas said. “Their prowess and integrity is exceptional.”

  “It is, but the brothers Xaahn have never endeavored to join an organized guard. They appreciate the freedom and schedule of their current status.”

  “Indeed,” Yonas said.

  Hosdaq glanced at the two curiously, and then regarded Julaybeim. “You said that Pentanimir is leaving Nazil. Is there anything of concern?”

  “The scrolls, Hosdaq. Thalassa and Nzuri discovered some intriguing and puzzling passages. Even with her knowledge of the Mehlonii language, she couldn’t give it a proper meaning.”

  “I hear tell there’s a young priest in Noraa who’s well versed in the ancient teachings. Is this where Pentanimir’s headed?” Yonas asked.

  “From what I’m told, his name is Ahvixx. He’s merely a helding, and if his attention to young Sahma is any indication, he won’t be taking his vows any time soon.” Julaybeim chuckled.

  “However, the answer is no. Ahvixx has a greater understanding than anyone else, save Thalassa and your High Priest, but this is even beyond him. Pentanimir left for the Animus Wood with Arinak to speak with the AsZar.”

  “Is it that detrimental that they need to consult the Guardians, Julaybeim?” Hosdaq asked.

  “Brahanu says that Nzuri and Thalassa are quite troubled by the implications. No one can know truly until the AsZar provides clarification. Pentanimir should return to Nazil this night, and then seven suns hence to retrieve Brahanu from Cazaal.”

  Hosdaq shook his head, pouring another cup of wine. “Did Brahanu mention Zeta and Danimore?”

  “She did,” Julaybeim said. “This same young helding seems to have visions.”

  “The same as Olam?” Yonas asked.

  “Even more so. He speaks while he’s yet awake, though he’s unaware. By his word, Danimore and Zeta visited the wood. She was taken through the falls much the same as Brahanu and Wosen were. They couldn’t return the child to her womb, but she’ll be able to conceive again. Much healing is still needed as they grieve for the loss of their son.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. Osmara was ill for many suns when the news reached Spero. It’s good to have Gali here to visit, and she looks beautiful, Julaybeim. Glowing even,” Hosdaq said.

  “As is Osmara. She grows large. Soon you’ll be a father once more.”

  “Within a fortnight, mayhaps. Already she’s late. And your own babe will soon follow.” He raised his cup.

  Julaybeim did the same as Hosdaq regarded Yonas. “And what about you, old friend? Now that you’ve returned home, surely, there’s at least one young maid who was awaiting you in Kaleo. When shall we celebrate your bond?”

  Yonas shifted uncomfortably, glancing over at his lover.

  “I believe we’ll be celebrating Amare’s wedding before my own,” Yonas said, with a nervous chuckle. “Mayhaps in the future I’ll be so blessed.” He then raised his cup, looking at Reinhold, who merely smiled, offering a ‘hear, hear.’

  Yonas breathed a sigh of relief when Malkia interrupted them. She entered the chamber wearing a white and silver tunic, a small sword belt, and carrying a shield. She bowed, or tried to, before the half-helm she wore tumbled off her head. Amare was quick to her side, adjusting her equipment and replacing the ill-fitting helm.

  “It would seem that my most honorable Chosen, Lady Neufmarche, is ready to make our appointed rounds.”

  Hosdaq laughed, and the others joined in his mirth. “It would appear that she’s found appropriate attire for completing such a task.”

  Yonas rose, hugging her. “Had we known of your prowess back in Bandari, you could’ve stood guard with Nurul,” he teased, kissing her cheek. Malkia only giggled, reaching for Amare’s hand.

  “If it pleases you, Caretaker, we’ll complete the rounds and make a report.”

  Hosdaq nodded to his First Chosen, watching as they left the chamber.


  “She’s grown much, Hosdaq. Seems only a season ago she stood waist high,” Yonas said. “Now she stands to my shoulder.”

  “It was much the same with Wosen. Now, I’ll do it all over again as many times as we’re blessed.”

  “You have a lovely daughter, Caretaker. She reminds me much of my own,” Reinhold said. “She, too, would carry a sword and shield if her mother only allowed.”

  Hosdaq chuckled, yet Yonas nearly scowled.

  Hosdaq stood then, pulling the long cord near the door. “I’ll have Liam show you to your chambers. Evening meal will be soon, and I’m certain that you’ll wish to freshen. The road was long, and we have more to discuss.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Second Chances

  The young woman sat on the stone bench in the gardens surrounded by flowering bushes. She enjoyed the warmth of the sun, and the solitude that her position afforded her. Being in Nazil wasn’t what she’d expected. If not for her sister’s request, she wouldn’t have ever come to the white city. Regardless of her trepidation, her stay had been pleasant. After witnessing Sarai’s wedding in Kaleo, she was both heartened and sorrowful. Not at her sister’s joy in wedding Symeon, but with her own marriage, that had ended so painfully.

  A child’s laughter brought Dalia from her thoughts. When she heard a man’s voice, she stood, glancing around the vast garden. A smile crossed her face, as Fáelán laughed again, being grabbed around his waist and tickled until he fell onto the ground. She recognized the Nazilian man that was with him, laughing and playing in the garden. For a long while, she watched the two in amazement. Until coming to the citadel and seeing the humans and Nazilians together, she wouldn’t have believed it.

  “I’ll find it, Dada!” Fáelán called out, dashing toward her. She hadn’t noticed the ball roll through the grass until the young boy came to retrieve it. Picking it up from the ground, she handed it to him, offering a warm smile.

  “Here you are, little one.”

  “Thank you, milady,” Fáelán said.

  When the man entered behind him, Dalia took a step back.

  “Pardons. We didn’t mean to disturb you. There’s usually no one here at this time,” Beilzen said, moving forward and extending his hand. “My name is Beilzen de Braose, and this is my son, Fáelán.”

  “Beilzen?” she repeated curiously, looking down at Fáelán and back at him. “I’ve heard about you. My name is Dalia.”

  He kissed her hand, and Fáelán followed suit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Dalia. I thought that I knew everyone in the citadel, well, by sight, at least. Though, I’m certain that if we’d met, I wouldn’t have forgotten. You have me at a disadvantage, I fear.”

  She regarded him warily. “I’ve seen you often, you, and your son. I’m Sarai’s sister.”

  Beilzen’s heartbeat quickened, considering what she must’ve been told about him. “I see,” he said as his visage betrayed his thoughts. “I’ll leave you to your privacy, then. The gardens are most beautiful this time of day.”

  Dalia watched him take Fáelán’s hand, turning to leave. For reasons that she couldn’t understand, that wasn’t what she wanted. She knew what she’d heard about Beilzen, and how he treated the former slaves, but she didn’t see any trace of that person when he was with his son. Quite the opposite. In fact, Beilzen appeared isolated if not with Fáelán. He never even took meals in the hall or attended the more festive occasions. He didn’t seem like the man Sarai had described. He appeared broken.

  She took a step forward, scrutinizing him closely. Beilzen stood barely over three and a half cubits with what looked to be a slight, but firm build. It was difficult to tell beneath the cloak he wore, but he wasn’t much taller than her. His appearance wasn’t unattractive for a Nazilian, but she wouldn’t consider him handsome. There was something about him, though, and before she realized, she’d called out to him.

  “You—you haven’t disturbed me,” she said. “It’s nice to have some company.”

  He released Fáelán’s hand, looking at her inquiringly. When Fáelán ran off with his ball, Beilzen motioned for Dalia to take a seat on a nearby bench.

  “Is there something that you wish to ask, Lady Dalia?” Although he fought against it, his eyes lowered to her full bust scarcely contained by her bodice. After clearing his throat, he straightened, focusing on her eyes again. Beilzen attempted to study her face: her ebon complexion, dark brown eyes, and thick lashes. Anything to keep his mind from what Daracus had taken from him, yet what he longed for daily.

  “I’ve seen you and your son many times,” she said, drawing the focus to her lips.

  “I wish that I could speak the same. This is the first that I’ve seen you. You must spend less time in the common areas than I do,” he said, glancing at Fáelán. “I haven’t always been able to have my son with me. I’ve missed most of his life, and can’t see how I was able to live without him. I do love him. Truly, I didn’t know love until he entered my life.”

  “It’s a blessing that you have each other now.”

  “It is, and I’m grateful,” he said. “Do you have children, Lady Dalia?”

  “No. Children aren’t a blessing given to all.”

  “You haven’t taken a husband?”

  “No. That’s also a blessing not meant for everyone.”

  He studied her intently, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. “I didn’t intend to pry. Forgive me if I’ve given offense.”

  She rested a hand on his arm. “You haven’t, and please, call me Dalia. I wanted to learn more about you, Beilzen. We’re both surrounded by people, yet remain alone.”

  Beilzen felt the warmth in her words and more so, her touch. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had touched him willingly. That truth assaulted both his mind and his heart, drudging up memories he’d tried desperately to forget. Not since Shiloh had anyone shown him any honest affection. The last woman he’d known was Denotra, and even then, she had wanted Pentanimir. That encounter had not only changed Beilzen’s life, it had nearly ended it. Forcing back those painful memories, he placed a hand atop hers.

  “For some of us, it’s not by choice. Our actions sometimes force us to distance ourselves from others.”

  “You have your son, Beilzen. He’s beautiful, and it’s obvious that he loves his father.”

  His eyes lowered. “He does. Fáelán has his mother’s features, and she was beautiful, too.”

  “His mother?” She removed her hand. “Will she be joining you, then?”

  “No. Shiloh died some time ago. Fáelán has only my father and me now.”

  “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sadden you with memories of your wife. Fáelán may have his mother’s features, but he has yours as well: the shape of his eyes and lips are yours.” She smiled. “He looks to have your nose, too. I can see much of you in your son.”

  He smiled at that. He also thought that Fáelán favored him though his appearance was overwhelmingly human. Not the eyes, though. He had his mother’s captivating eyes.

  “Shiloh wasn’t my wife. Such marriages weren’t allowed until Sir Benoist became Zaxson. But we loved each other in spite of such limitations.”

  “Of course, I’ve spoken without thought. Shiloh was human. My apologies.”

  “There’s no need. It was a difficult time and we’re still not past some of those hardships.”

  She nodded. “Where did you meet his mother?”

  Beilzen turned away, uncertain of how to respond. He didn’t want to deceive her, but he wasn’t sure how the truth would be received. However, if he didn’t tell her now, Sarai definitely would. He didn’t want to give Dalia any cause to think him dishonest. Beilzen appreciated her much-needed gesture of friendship.

  “Shiloh served the citadel,” he finally said.

  “Fáelán’s mother was a slave?”

  “I didn’t force her,” he said, quickly. “Both of us were young, too young to understand the consequences of our acti
ons. We loved each other. Shiloh is the only woman that I ever truly loved.” His gaze lowered. “They punished her because of our relationship…because of me. I’m the reason that Fáelán doesn’t have a mother, and had he resembled both his parents, I wouldn’t have him.”

  A look of empathy crossed her face as she realized what he meant. Dalia glanced over at Fáelán, understanding what could’ve happen to him, too. The love Beilzen shared with a human had caused her death. He still loved and mourned her. That was evident by his voice and his demeanor.

  When he didn’t regard her again, Dalia gripped his hand. “Have you had noon meal?”

  “Wha—what?”

  “I always prepare a basket before I come, but I rarely have an appetite. Would you and Fáelán care to join me?”

  “We—we would,” he said, standing and extending out his arm.

  Dalia accepted it without hesitation. He placed a hand over hers as she gripped his arm, proceeding to the circled bushes. After calling out to Fáelán, they sat on the blanket, enjoying not only the meal, but the company as well.

  Enemy Within

  “When will they return to the city?” the old man wheezed, clutching his throat.

  “It’s not certain. No longer than six suns, surely. He goes to retrieve his wife and son.”

  “He travels freely with the savage?”

  “Indeed. He and his brother as well. They parade those savages through the white city as if holding pride in having them at their side. Most I know are revolted by such a display. The whores should be serving the citadel, not wed to those who rule it.”

  The older man’s heavy cough returned as he reached for his cup, soothing his aches. “How many?” he asked, coughing through each word.

  “More than a few believe as we. Two more citadel guards have made their choice clear. They refuse to receive commands from a former slave or serve a corrupt Zaxson. He’s weakened our great city and polluted our blood.”

  “And what about you, Nigel? What are you prepared to do for your city and the memory of its leaders?”

  “I’ll do what I must to free our city from these usurpers.”