“It wasn’t the time to do so. Soon, I’ll offer him a proper greeting. There are other matters that take precedence over our shared heritage.”
“You’ll find Symeon of good character and quite formidable.”
“Wosen speaks fondly of the First Chosen. Your son respects Sir Yego and has become formidable in his own right. Within a few years, his skill will match one from the isle.”
“From you, Kuhani, that’s indeed a compliment. I thought myself a skilled swordsman before foolishly challenging you. But with that contest came humility and respect. If you hadn’t remained in Bandari, my skills would’ve surely waned. You kept my prowess sharp.” He smiled. “And my ego intact.”
“Speaking of, Caretaker, Wosen requested another lesson. He’s with the healer now.”
“The healer?”
“Yes. Wosen felt that our last contest was inequitable. He asked to spar using practice swords. With these, he felt the advantage would be his.”
“You allowed this?” Hosdaq breathed, knowing of his prowess.
“It was a well-delivered lesson, yet with much restraint. I didn’t want to impede his progress, but he learned that his training is far from complete. He shows much promise. Albeit, that promise is for a Faélondulian. One of his age in K’ohshul would be far more advanced.”
“The fault is mine. I didn’t allow Wosen to train with weapons. His training was primarily with the bow and martial techniques.”
“At the time, you felt it was the best decision. You’d planned to begin enhanced training, but Wosen’s impatience caused the rift, one now that has long mended. It pleases me to see you truly content.”
“I am. You always spoke to me about Osmara, but I didn’t understand why until after she came to me as I healed. Many things of importance passed my notice in Bandari.”
“No longer. Your son is with you now and wears the liveries of the Chosen. You have a beautiful wife who’s given you another son. Even Malkia is proving her prowess as she protects the citadel with Amare. You’ve been blessed, my old friend.”
“Beyond measure, Kuhani,” he said, raising his cup. “How is Wosen?”
“His body is bruised, but his mind is open. Wosen’s suffering in Nazil was more profound than any of us believed. The ghosts that haunt him most are associated with you, Hibret, and Malkia. He blames the Vereuxs and the former Nazilian guards for not only his physical and emotional pains, but for causing yours as well. I’ll continue his communing and counseling. It depletes him, but he’s more receptive now. He should be able to return to Nazil within a fortnight.”
“A fortnight? Are you certain?”
“Depending on how much of his mind he’ll open to me, it could be sooner.”
“Does he still resist the Akilu?”
“Not consciously. In the beginning, he perceived my presence as an intrusion. He attempted to keep his deeper thoughts and pains shielded from me. Wosen was ashamed of the mistreatment he received, and didn’t want me to learn what they’d done to him. Now, he calms when my mind reaches his. Through our merge, he’s not only facing his past, he’s relinquishing the pain associated with it.”
Hosdaq sighed in relief. “It’s difficult to face what truly haunts us. Of this, I know all too well. What about his outer wounds?”
“They’ll heal quickly. I allowed his attacks and merely parried the well-aimed strikes. He’s well skilled, Caretaker. You should be proud of what he’s accomplished in so little time. The ripostes I delivered were stinging slaps to focus his attention and help him internalize and focus his anger. When next we spar, I feel he’ll be a more challenging opponent.”
Hosdaq smiled, as Malkia entered the room with a low and sweeping bow.
“Pardons, Caretaker, High Priest Kuhani. I was ordered to report to you as soon as my duties allowed.”
“Report?” Hosdaq said. “I merely asked to have my daughter visit me at the end of Amare’s rounds. At what point did I stop being your father and became only the Caretaker?”
Malkia kept her eyes forward, standing rigidly, and holding her half-helm beneath her arm. “Do you not require such respect from your entire guard?”
“Your First Chosen trains her well,” Kuhani said. “I believe that you have another warrior on your hands.”
“Were the decision up to my daughter, that would certainly be so. Where’s our First Chosen, Malkia?”
“He’s training with Sir Wesfain. After they’ve finished, we’ll complete the rounds together.”
“Very well then, Sir Neufmarche.” Hosdaq chuckled. “As you were.”
Malkia bowed, replacing her helm, and then exited the room.
“I wasn’t speaking facetiously, Hosdaq. Malkia’s growing closer to your First Chosen. I’ve watched them in practice and when they make rounds. She emulates his movements and admires his form, too.”
“Admires?”
“You haven’t taken notice?”
“Malkia is much too young for such things. She admires Amare’s position and prowess alone. She wants to learn such skills.”
“As you say. However, don’t allow your desire to retain a young daughter to cloud your mind to her becoming a young woman.”
“There’s time,” Hosdaq said, refilling their cups. “We have more important business to discuss.”
“Indeed. I noticed a gentleman leaving as I arrived.”
“That was Javyn Shengis. He’s originally from Leahcim, but was relocating to Spero before the village was destroyed. His family is loyal to the Zaxson, and he delivered some news about Molag Bomgaard.”
“Molag? Still he roams free?”
“He’s had some unexpected assistance. Javyn’s learned that Molag fled to Nazil and is taking refuge in the city.”
“Does Javyn know who’s hiding him or where he can be found?”
“Not yet, however, this proves that Molag’s resistance is gaining momentum. If he can hide in Nazil, he has more support than Pentanimir believed.”
Mah’saahc
Pentanimir’s mood was solemn as he awaited the AsZar. He hadn’t fully recovered from his previous visit and was anxious regarding this summoning. He needed clarification, but the constant inundation of remembrances were impeding his thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, he forced images of the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon from his mind, bringing forth the recent occurrences of which he had no answers. After Itai’s appearance in the carriage and Ahvixx’s recent ailment, he had to focus on the present enigmas, and discover what they meant for the future of Faélondul.
With that, he stood, holding onto the table’s side. Not even the dulcet refrains from the falls could calm his restless spirit. He glided his fingers over the grooves in the table, entranced by the intricate etchings engraved on its surface. His grasp of the Guardians’ Mehlonii language wasn’t as percipient as it should be, and he struggled to make out the ancient symbols.
A flicker of light in his periphery startled him, and he peered up, noting the emanations’ location had changed. A subtle glint reappeared momentarily and then immediately dissipated. Pentanimir stepped forward, shielding his eyes when a refulgent archway materialized amidst the corrugated stone. When he removed his hand, the AsZar stood before the dimming archway, caressing the crystal dangling from her neck.
“Thank you for coming, Zaxson,” Angelaris said, motioning to the table. Her mien was benevolent, but the tenor of her voice gave him pause.
“Had the matter not been urgent, I wouldn’t have sent Arinak to retrieve you. We’re aware of the difficulties you’re facing in Nazil.”
“We are, but it’s always an honor to be with you, AsZar.”
Although she smiled, it didn’t find her eyes. He’d never felt such desolation from the AsZar, a near imperceptible sadness he’d witnessed only once before. It was present when he’d learned about the origin of his people, and was held suspended in the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon.
“I can feel the uncertainty and know you’re s
eeking answers, but there are other matters of greater importance. The answers you seek are already within you. You must accept what is known in your heart, Pentanimir. The mind reasons through truths, creating turbidity and doubt.
“Faélondul was liberated and remains free due to your leadership. However, such a goal wasn’t achieved singularly. The men and women at your side chose as you did to accept this enormous burden to heal the lands, but you bind them together.
“I cautioned you afore about the conflicts that could arise that would test your belief in yourself and each other. Seeds of discord have been sown into arable hearts and minds pervaded with dubiety and trepidation. Choices made by a few, stand to endanger the many.”
A shiver coursed down his spine, recalling the last she’d spoken those words. He could feel a shift: an iniquitous presence pervading Faélondul. He’d tried to dismiss it, to assign his feelings of despondency to the attack on his wife and Molag. But now, with the summoning, he knew it to be real.
“What will I have to face?” he asked. “My siblings and I haven’t been at ease for some time. It feels as if there’s been a disruption, an impalpable presence wafting across the lands.” He shook his head. “We’ve only had our uncertainty and the warning in our hearts, but there must be something that you haven’t revealed.
“After Itai protected my wife and son, it verified my feelings. Was it truly Itai in the carriage, AsZar? Was he released to protect Brahanu and Eytan?”
“Itai remains a part of Eytan, as he always will. The Guardians grant this for Itai’s sacrifice and purity of heart. Itai lingers within the light, intersecting the present with remnants of the past. He’s created a purgatory, a space between both realms, clinging to a life he lost long ago.
“When Eytan was endangered, Itai experienced his anguish and heard the resonance of the T’reyUhm R’aFek beckoning his son home. Had he allowed what was to be, his family would be reunited beyond the falls. Instead, he beseeched the Guardians to intervene.
“What was seen in the carriage was the essence of the man that you knew. In saving their lives, he extended his own isolation, remaining in the Guardian’s light, apart from the mortal, yet drifting as a shadow among them.”
“A—a shadow? Does he have a connection with Brahanu?”
“She feels his presence, but it isn’t as prevalent as with his son. Brahanu will always love Itai, Pentanimir, and he’ll forever be a part of her. Howbeit, Itai was released to protect his son, not Brahanu.”
Those words stung profoundly. At that moment, he realized had Brahanu been alone in the carriage, she would’ve died.
“The gift of life is granted for but a season,” she said, soothingly. “Enjoy the extended gift you’ve been granted. Itai awaits Brahanu, and she’ll be with him again.”
Pentanimir’s lips parted, but the words caught in his throat. Brahanu will be with Itai again, he thought, choking on that revelation.
“Don’t trouble yourself with what cannot be changed,” Angelaris said. “Be grateful that your wife is yet with you. Now, we must focus on the purpose of your summoning.”
Pentanimir met her eyes, nodding.
“There’s a reason that the shift is felt among you and your family. Your line and a few others are sensitive to the balance. When the realms are no longer aligned, neither is the Guardian’s essence, which also dwells within you.
“As we prepared Tardison and Ayrmeis, so have others in your line been prepared. Your paths are disparate, yet your purpose is consonant. The Guardian’s merge does more than strengthen and protect your mortal form: part of them, their essence, was transferred to you.
“Before the battle in Nazil, they bestowed this gift upon all the warriors of Afferea. After such a transference, another merge is required. The Guardians merge with one chosen of Afferea, and replenish that which they’ve lost.”
“Do you mean that in strengthening us, they relinquish some of their power?”
“In a manner. The loss is transitory. Once merged with an Afferean, the Guardians are again whole. However, during their merge, minute shifts can occur.”
“Is this what happened during Ahvixx’s attack?”
“Don’t fear for Ahvixx’s state. It was necessary to protect him from the malefic essence attempting to pervade his being. The Guardians haven’t abandoned him, Zaxson. Drah’kuu Kuhani Nwosu will aid Ahvixx, ascertaining more knowledge than either of them will comprehend. In time, both will be whole.”
“Kuhani? How’s he going to help Ahvixx?”
“The Drah’kuus will help you all, as it has been from the beginning. The symbiosis between the Drah’kuus of K’ohshul and the Guardians is eternal. They, too, have felt the shift and will provide you with vital assistance.”
“The Drah’kuus? Will they be able to correct this…this shift?”
“You’ll soon learn more about the Drah’kuus and many others.
“The shift is neither coincidence nor ambiguous. You’ve studied the scrolls and learned more than you’ve been able to comprehend. The cause of the shift is a watcher, a sycophant who awaits the opportunity to sully that which is pure. We’ve felt its presence, but the sycophant had never endangered Faélondul.”
“What?” he asked, confused. “What do you mean, AsZar. Who is this sycophant and what have they done?”
“A choice was made that shifted the balance. The Sycophant inhabiting Sanctium has the means to obtain the blood of Oisin. With this blood, an eidolon can be released into Faélondul, and free those banished from the light.”
“Sycophant? Eidolon? I don’t understand. Surely, the Guardians can prevent this…this sycophant from releasing the eidolon. If—” A flicker of recognition caused him to pause. “You’ve mentioned the blood of Oisin before. What is it?”
“Only with the blood of Oisin can the eidolon’s essence suffuse the lands. Once it regains corporeal form, a darkness will cover Faélondul.”
“I still don’t understand. If this blood is the key, where can it be found, and why can’t the Guardians prevent this before it can come into fruition?” He sighed, shaking his head. “How is this possible when all in Afferea are attuned to the lands?”
“As we are Guardians of the light, so have they become guardians of the realm absent of it. Eternally they encompass the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon, awaiting a fissure of light. Only the Guardian’s seal countervails their malevolence, keeping them imprisoned.”
“If they hold dominion over the netherworld, how could they be here?”
“Not the netherworld, only the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon. There are many realms, Zaxson, and many more who claim dominion over them. We’re speaking of but one, and the seal that binds the gate is no longer intact.”
“It’s been destroyed? How? There are none more powerful than the Guardians.”
“The seal remains, but it is fractured. A breach so infinitesimal that it went without regard. The merge prevented us from seeing until it was too late. Through this interruption, the essence of an eidolon escaped, seeking the enmity that empowers it.”
“A—a eidolon? A ghost of the abyss. How? How did it escape?”
“Choice, Zaxson, a willing sacrifice that bestowed upon the sycophant the means to release the entity.”
“But who? Is this Oisin planning an attack with the sycophant, and this—this eidolon?”
“Not in the manner in which you presume. The eidolon is inchoate in form, incapable of assuming a corporeal existence. Only the essence has been freed, but this is enough to cast a lasting darkness over Faélondul.
“The sycophant on Sanctium is the conduit, existing in duality between realms. Through her, the eidolon has gained power. It possesses some whilst influencing others. By blood, the sycophant merged the eidolon with a temporary host. Their connection is transitory, but it can embody the host: controlling their movements and mind.
“Once the sycophant receives the blood of Oisin, she’ll have the means to release her master. There are but two
who possess the blood the sycophant seeks, and her master covets.” Her gaze lowered momentarily before she met his eyes again. “Both bearers of the blood are known to you.”
Pentanimir groaned with exasperation, wanting to yell out in protest. “I don’t know anyone with this blood or those seeking it. Tell me who they are and what I need to do to prevent this from coming to pass.”
“Mah’saahc, the devourer, placed her mark upon one in the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon. She consumed the will of this man, replacing it with her own. Her beauty enmeshed him so, that he willingly offered himself to her. Through that joining, Mah’saahc became a part of him, and it was he who conveyed her malefic essence into the lands.”
“You said that no one can return from the abyss, AsZar. How could anyone…” His words ended in a gasp. When his eyes widened, Angelaris merely nodded, allowing his thoughts to fully form.
Pentanimir fell back hard in his seat, besieged with images and recollections. It was one of Nazil, one banished to the wasteland who’d foisted this evil upon them.
“Yes,” Angelaris said, sharing in his thoughts. “One condemned to dwell in darkness and returned to the light first bore the mark. The maleficence imbuing him befouled all in his line, passed through the seed of its host.
“Oisin Vereux, infused with Mah’saahc’s essence was returned to the world of light. His reign was merely the beginning. Through him, the false Nazilian gods were created. Mah’saahc’s essence, imbuing Oisin, caused these lands to suffer. Only the blood of one in his line can affect the seal. There are but two who bear the mark.”
“No, no, that can’t be. You told me about Sarai’s pregnancy before she was even aware. I know Ayrmeis is Daracus’ son, but the Guardians cleansed him beyond the falls. It’s impossible. Both he and Tardison bear the Guardians’ mark. If Ayrmeis embodies this evil, why would you spare his life?”
Her heart ached, sharing in his pain, but there was nothing she could offer to relieve it. “Ayrmeis is the seed of Daracus, but he isn’t the bearer of this evil. As with you, he’s a paladin of light, protected by the Guardians.
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