Seed of Scorn

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  The shard was smooth on all sides but one. The rougher side was jagged, with circular indentations along its edge. The recessed notch at its end was smooth except for a small protrusion inside. The other end came to a sharp point, so fine and honed that he’d sliced open his finger when prying it up from the ground.

  He closed his eyes, tracing his fingertips over the rough edge. A warmth coursed through him then, accompanied by a soothing draw, urging him to tighten his grasp.

  Allister shuddered, the serenity being replaced with familiar images and sounds. He saw a beautiful woman, as pale as the fresh snow in Dessalonia. She swirled around him, her clothing drifting away as though someone had tugged at the seams, revealing the naked beauty beneath. When she spun around him again, he saw her as she truly was. There was no beauty in that image, that honest vision of the beast that had brutalized him and his daughter.

  I cannot. I can’t give her the means to destroy Faélondul. Before he’d finished the thought, a chilling zephyr erupted beneath his feet.

  Allister stifled a scream, watching a spectral form materializing from the dust. His trembling hand reached out for it, but it passed through the shapeless, white cloud, leaving a chill greater than that he’d suffered in the mountains.

  “Mah’saahc offers you no choice,” an otherworldly voice hissed. The cloud gained form and definition, grasping onto his hand. Allister screamed, feeling icy tendrils stabbing into his flesh.

  “Please! No!” he pleaded, crumpling on his knees. Allister resisted against the pull, only for it to tighten, drilling into his skin. He cried out, half-crawling across the dirt, attempting to lessen the pull from the viscid cloud.

  As the door swung open, strident laughter erupted around him, both taunting and seductive all at once. Allister cried out again, being slung across the room, landing face-down on the floor. He groaned, cradling the throbbing arm that the tendrils had lacerated to the bone.

  “Do you think that Mah’saahc doesn’t know your mind?” Lilinth said, turning him roughly on his back with her foot. “Or is the love you profess for your fair Nikolina not as perfervid as you believe?”

  Allister’s head lulled, looking up at her woozily. Lilinth’s form had reverted to the alluring lie she’d donned when he’d first seen her. The split in her gown exposed her long, milky legs, removing the wretchedness of her true nature from his mind. His only thoughts were being between them, tasting and pleasing her as long and as much as she demanded. He swallowed hard, fighting against that draw, that desire to sample every part of the breathtaking beauty. When his eyes found her full, ruby lips, she exposed her jagged, yellow teeth.

  He gasped, tumbling back as he was awakened from his trance. When he looked at her again, an oval-shaped object stood at her side. The edges were a glimmering pearl, encasing a fluttering surface, appearing as silvery waves rippling upon the shore.

  Allister labored to his knees, staring at the hypnotic waves, swaying, flowing, and beckoning him forward. When he reached out his hand, the ripples reversed their flow, converging in the center of the object. An eddying storm raged in its center, growing brighter as the turbulence swirled, and then propel toward him, causing him to fall back again. When he raised his arms in defense, a warmth trickled over his skin, and he gaze back at the surface, seeing an image of Nikolina writhing on her bed.

  Allister’s mouth gaped, his lips moving, but no words would come. Tears rimmed his eyes, hearing Nikolina’s screams. Her sweat-soaked face was pallid, with red, snaking veins bulging from beneath it.

  “No, Nikolina,” he said, crawling toward the image.

  Lilinth cackled, waving a hand over the surface, and as quickly as the image had appeared, it was gone again.

  “Why? Why must you torment her so? Please, I’ve done what you asked. Please, release my daughter. Release us both.”

  She stroked his face, reverting to her beautiful smile. “Why would I do such a thing, my obedient lover? You hesitated, and needed a reminder as to why you’ve come to me.”

  She gripped him by the throat, hoisting him to his feet. “Do I need to remind you again?”

  Allister’s face darkened, gasping for air. When his eyes rolled back, she loosened her grasp, bringing him in for a kiss. Nothing he knew of the mage could stave off the desire burning inside of him. He returned her kiss, wanting to be a part of her in any way she demanded.

  “Later, my lover,” she teased, her voice dripping with honey.

  Lilinth released her hold, sending him collapsing to the floor. She glided toward the counter, pouring drinks for the both of them. With a seductive smile, she beckoned him to her, taking a seat near the great hearth.

  “Have you what I asked?” she said, handing him a drink.

  Allister couldn’t respond, feeling the pleasured tingles left in the wake of her touch.

  “Need I offer another reminder?” She motioned toward the mirror.

  “No. No. Please. Yes. I have it. I found the map in my cloak and retrieved the—the shard, the key. I’ve brought it just as you commanded.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t displease me: not in our lovemaking or with your duty,” she purred, emptying her glass. She rose up then, taking position over him. He moaned as her sharp claws grazed his neck, leaving thin trails of febrile blood behind. All images of her true wretched appearance faded away in the haze of pleasure. All that remained was desire and lust. Lilinth laughed, ripping the laces from his trousers, and forcefully joined with him. Allister cried out, basking in the pain-ridden intoxication of their merge.

  After several turns of the glass, she left him in a heap on the floor. His breathing was shallow as he attempted to recover from their lovemaking. Wiping the blood from his face, he struggled to his knees, tying his shredded trousers.

  “Mah’saahc’s essence is within your daughter, just as mine is within you,” she said, bringing him from his euphoria. “Neither of you shall be freed until you’ve completed the tasks assigned to you.”

  His eyes widened as an excruciating pain radiated throughout his entire body. He grasped his chest and cradled his manhood, crumpling on the floor.

  “Give me the key,” she commanded, sliding a glove over her clawed hand.

  He couldn’t respond, still writhing on the floor, screaming.

  “The key!”

  “Gods,” he groaned, rising on shaky knees.

  “Gods?” She grinned. “I am your god.”

  Those words sent a prickling chill down his spine. Allister fought against her pull, but couldn’t stop his body from responding independent from his mind. He reached into his cloak, handing over the shard.

  As he withdrew his hand, Lilinth’s eyes flashed, and her body taunted, returning to its cadaverous state. Her leathery, ashen wings spread out behind her, and then retracted again.

  “What is this?” she demanded, the yellow center of her wan eyes blazing with mounting anger.

  “It—it’s what you asked me to retrieve. It was in the pale stone beneath the seventh peak. I followed the map, and it was where you led. Please, this is all that I found beneath the stone.”

  Lilinth roared, landing a backhand that sent him crashing into the far wall. “Fool! This is but half!”

  “Half?” he coughed, the word releasing with sprays of blood.

  “Can you not see?” She hurled the shard across the room, barely missing Allister’s head as it stuck in the wall.

  “Pleas…I swear…this—this was all I found beneath the stone.” He strained, pulling the shard from the wall.

  Lilinth beat her leathery wings, swooping toward him before he could register the movement. She wrenched him from the floor, turning him to the mirror.

  “Then watch how failure is rewarded.”

  “No!” he gasped, hearing his daughter’s screams as she thrashed in her bed. “I’ll do whatever you command! Please! Whatever you command.”

  Lilinth leaned close, her face a hair’s breadth from his. Her hot, pungent breath stung h
is eyes as she hissed, squeezing his throat. “The key or the life of your fair Nikolina and the child she carries,” she rasped.

  “But—”

  She placed a crooked finger up to his lips. “You’ll return, my obedient lover. You’ll retrieve what is commanded, and Mah’saahc will lead Nikolina to obtain the blood of Oisin. You have but one chance. Don’t fail me again.”

  “Lilinth, please. I’ve retrieved what you asked, and Nikolina is in no condition to aid you. I’ll serve you, me alone. Allow—”

  She squeezed harder. “One chance,” she said again, licking up the side of his face with her prickly tongue. “Or I’ll give Nikolina to my children, and you’ll watch them receive their pleasures before they consume them both.”

  He gagged, feeling the prickly tongue she forced down his throat. A searing heat flashed over him, being overcome by a gelid bite. Allister sucked in a painful breath, landing in the dirt of the clearing. When his vision cleared, he gazed around wearily, and noticed the item in his hand.

  “The—the shard,” he breathed, fighting against the swirl of dizzying dots clouding his vision. He drop the shard in his cloak pocket, attempting to rise on weakened knees. His legs wobbled as darkness crept in from the corners of his eyes.

  “Gods help me,” he whimpered, collapsing to the ground.

  Betrayal of the Guard

  The smoke-filled air in the room was stifling, tinged with the aroma of blood and ash. Heat emanating from the extinguished hearth added to their discomfort, as they continuously fanned, attempting to gain some comfort in the stuffy, ventless room.

  Five men sat around the wooden table, staring at one another. Neither wanted to believe the reports of the vicious attack, and more so, what Nakaris had relayed to them. Urdan wiped the dripping sweat from his face, pulling at the clinging, silken tunic wet with perspiration. Though the air outside would’ve certainly provided some comfort, Urdan daren’t open the shuttered windows.

  “What did you say?” Aronin asked for what seemed the fourth time.

  Nakaris shook his head. “A—a specter or wraith. I don’t know. When I went to the carriage, he was there with Lady and Lord Benoist. He—he shielded them.”

  “Yet, no one from our patrol saw this ‘apparition’?” Aronin said with skepticism.

  “Sir Middleton speaks true,” Wosen finally interjected, growing tired of the repeated question and the disrespectful way Aronin posed it. “I bore witness to the same. When I saw the burnt carriage, I thought the worse. Anyone who saw what was left of it would’ve thought the same. But he—it was there, draped over Lady and Lord Benoist as some type of shield, protecting them from the flames. You saw the charred remains of her personal guard that was inside. How could they have survived if Sir Middleton’s accounts are untrue?”

  Urdan nodded, not certain what to believe. He didn’t doubt the Chosen’s accounting, but he wasn’t wholly convinced, either. “You reported that this specter spoke. What did it say?”

  “It did speak.” Nakaris’ brow knitted. “But the words held no meaning.”

  “The Zaxson is soon to arrive, Sir Middleton. Is this what you plan to report to him?” Aronin was clearly growing annoyed at the seemingly cryptic responses.

  “Lord Thaon, I report only what I saw. It was there, and it looked at me. It—he—told me to protect his wife and son. His wife and son. Only Lady Brahanu and her son were in the carriage. After he spoke to me, he leaned down to kiss the babe.” He glanced around the room. “This is why the words held no meaning. Surely, he couldn’t have meant the Zaxson’s wife and son?”

  Aronin’s brow raised, leaning back in his chair.

  “Did you hear this as well, Sir Neufmarche?” Jarin asked.

  “No, however, I believe what Sir Middleton reported. The Zaxson has told you all about the remarkable happenings in both Nazil and the Animus Wood. After not only witnessing, but also benefitting from such miracles, I know many things that seem impossible are, in fact, the opposite.

  “I mightn’t heard the words, but I did see the man in the carriage. That was no trick of light or some hallucination manifested from fear. He was there, and because of him, Lady and Lord Benoist are alive.”

  Wosen had never met Brahanu’s late husband, Itai. However, by the descriptions he’d heard and the appearance of the man, he suspected it was Itai in the carriage. He didn’t understand how, but he didn’t need to. Wosen wouldn’t mention that to these men, but he planned to speak with Pentanimir once he’d arrived.

  “What about the prisoners?” Urdan asked, moving the meeting forward. “Have they spoken anything of interest?”

  “Nothing of note, Father. All but one claims allegiance to Molag and the Nazilian resistance.”

  “Resistance? Have they enlisted enough in their ranks to be labeled as such?”

  “There need only be a few to claim such a label,” Jarin said. “With this assault, I fear that their numbers might grow.”

  “They admit this freely?” Aronin asked.

  “Proudly,” Jarin corrected.

  “We’ll see if that pride holds when they face the headsman’s ax.” Urdan stood, pacing the stuffy room. “Sir Benoist will certainly want to put these men to question. Albeit, I doubt much will be learned. They must know that for their offense, nothing but death could be the penance.”

  “Father, they don’t know that Lady Benoist is still alive. Anyone bearing witness to the flaming carriage would think those inside had perished.”

  “Allow them to believe themselves successful, then. Mayhaps their tongues will loosen to brag about their success. Increase the guard around the Zaontras’ chamber and ensure they’re loyal members of the guard. I want other guards in plain garb in the cells around our prisoners. If they utter one syllable about this attack, I want it reported immediately. Sir Benoist will arrive within two suns and we—”

  Urdan gasped, turning quickly as a loud screech echoed from outside. Wosen rushed toward one of the shuttered windows, flinging it open wide. He leaned, searching the skies as the resonating screeches repeated.

  “The Protectors,” he said, running from the room.

  Screams rang through the streets when the Desu Beasts came into view. Their majestic wings extended, stirring the wind and bending the trees’ branches. The Protectors circled above, observing those scurrying below. One by one, they began descending into the citadel’s courtyard.

  [12]“Tennish!” Arinak commanded, spurring the beasts on. Xandi glided toward the ground with a grace seemingly unnatural for a beast her size. The ground shook as she landed, releasing a reverberant screech as if announcing their arrival.

  Arinak hoisted a leg over her muscled back, gently patting her on the neck. [13]“Beaz Gon’Neesa,” he said, standing to his full imposing height. After surveying the emptying courtyard, he lifted his passenger from Xandi’s back.

  [14]“K’lendi Sa!” Arinak called out to the circling beasts.

  [15]“Baatheer Xandi, Baatheer!”

  Xandi screeched again, charging forward, and taking to the skies. Arinak’s half-helm glimmered as he communicated an extrasensory command.

  “Arinak, please remain here,” Pentanimir said. “Some of Molag’s men could be lurking in the shadows.”

  Arinak nodded, causing the trio of chains to rattle. Drawing his double-edged ax from his back, he assumed a defensive posture, coordinating the remaining beasts’ descent.

  [16]“Shomalakh desse mohs!” he said, in a deep, booming tone.

  Pentanimir hurried toward Wosen and Nakaris as Aronin and Jarin exited the citadel.

  “Take me to my wife and son, I beg.”

  “Come, Zaxson,” Jarin said, ushering him through the doors.

  “Wosen, Nakaris, escort the others once they’ve landed,” Pentanimir said.

  Pentanimir’s heart raced, as he turned the sharp corners and leapt up the steps two at a time. He heard the men speaking around him, but their voices rang hollow in his ears.

 
; “Stand aside! The Zaxson approaches!” Aronin announced stridently to the guards, as they reached the chamber. Pentanimir paused, taking a deep and steadying breath before pushing through the doors, and hastening to Brahanu’s bedside.

  If he hadn’t known about the attack, he’d think she was merely sleeping. Brahanu was elevated by cushions with an arm cradling Eytan. Her coiled, raven hair framed her face, accentuating her flawless mahogany skin. It was untouched by the flames, appearing to nearly shimmer against the hearth’s light.

  He was heartbroken, relieved, and enraged all at once. Swirls of emotion surged through every part of him, manifesting as moisture that rimmed his eyes.

  Leaning down, he softly kissed her lips while lowering to his knees. After taking her hand in his, he offered a silent prayer and rested his other hand on Eytan.

  “Make way, she’s a healer,” he heard in the distance. Moments later, he felt a touch on his shoulder, but didn’t turn from his wife.

  “Zaxson, allow me to tend them,” Gali said. “The Guardians have protected Brahanu and Eytan, and brought us to their side.”

  He felt a tug beneath his arms, feeling himself being hoisted to his feet. Symeon steadied Pentanimir’s stance as his knees nearly buckled, momentarily unable to support his weight.

  “Come, Zaxson. Allow Gali and Nzuri to check the Zaontras’ and Eytan’s condition while we speak to the council. Come.”

  Pentanimir reluctantly nodded, kissing Brahanu again. He never wanted to leave her side, and cursed himself for his carelessness.

  “Please tend them well and come to me immediately when they wake.”

  “Yes, Zaxson,” Nzuri said, joining Gali at their bedside.

  “My guard and I will remain,” Julaybeim said.

  Pentanimir offered a strong hand to him, understanding his position. Julaybeim wouldn’t trust anyone with his sister’s care but his wife, and he trusted only himself to protect them all.