Seed of Scorn

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “Return?” The twins said in tandem.

  “Your mother and I aren’t as young as once we were. We were honored to help oversee the transitions after the war, but this was never meant to be a permanent position for us. Noraa isn’t our home, but it can be yours.”

  “Our home?” Aizen asked. “You’d leave us here?”

  “Your father and I will always be a part of you both. It doesn’t matter where we are, our love is with you.”

  “But you can’t leave, Mother. Please. Where would you go?” Ahni asked, moving to embrace her. Though they were twins, Ahni was the youngest, and always needed the comfort of his mother most. They knew that he’d take their leaving the hardest.

  “Ahni, you and your brother are men grown now. Soon Aizen and Droxahn will be married, and have sons of their own. You don’t need our guidance, not anymore.”

  “We’ll always need you. Even when my sons have sired sons, I’ll yet need you,” Ahni said.

  “And we’ll be with you as long as the Guardians bless it to be,” Huname said, kissing his cheek.

  “Where will you go?” Aizen asked.

  “Your mother and I have been speaking with Pentanimir regarding Bandari.”

  Aizen’s brow knitted. “Bandari? I thought the Nazilians left it in ruins.”

  “That was Draizeyn’s plan,” Olam said. “But after clearing much of the debris away, the damage wasn’t as severe as we’d originally believed.

  “Emet and I have taken numerous trips with builders and masons to ascertain the viability of salvaging our village.

  “Once we spoke with Pentanimir, and he offered his assistance, we began planning for a new and greater Bandari.”

  “Why haven’t you mentioned any of this?” Aizen asked.

  “It wasn’t time,” Vot said. We’ll remain here throughout the cold season, but once the planting season begins, we’ll be sending caravans of masons and supplies.

  “This Bandari will be grander than the last, with buildings of stone, and a road plowed through the great forest. We’ll have a modest citadel and Caretaker to oversee our affairs. More of the Dessalonian Wood will be cleared to sustain a larger population. Eight families have contacted us interested in relocating and beginning a new life. It’ll be a thriving village again.”

  “It will be that, and more,” Emet said. “I plan to call Bandari home again as well.”

  “You? What about Maisha?” Aizen asked. “What about your promise.”

  “I still plan on taking her as my wife. Maisha’s family is agreeable, and aren’t trouble by my Nazilian heritage. Even Janshai has been more accepting since he wed Alishna and accepted Pentanimir’s proposal to oversee Kumasi. When he returns from Cazaal, I’ll speak to him about the particulars of our marriage. Bandari will be a well-traveled village and my family has pledged much to help us rebuild it. Even after our relocation, we’ll travel to Noraa often.”

  “But what about us, Mother? Are we to return with you?”

  “No, Aizen. You and your brother will remain here once we’ve abdicated. You’ll be the Caretakers of Noraa, together.”

  “Caretakers?” Ahni gasped.

  “Both of you are ready,” Vot said. “Your mother and I will ensure you’re fully versed on all that you must know.”

  “Don’t worry,” Olam said. “Your parents have taught you well, and together you’ll oversee Noraa justly. Nevertheless, there’s still more for you to learn. All of us will be here to assist you. Tesu led you to the wood at the Guardians’ behest, and it’s through the Guardians that you’ll be prepared.”

  Blood of Oisin

  “Make haste, before the guard returns,” Beilzen whispered, ushering the young woman through the postern door.

  “Are you certain that we won’t be discovered?” Nikolina asked.

  “Only if you don’t hurry. The guard has moved to the end of the corridor and it won’t take long for him to return.”

  With that, she accepted his offered elbow, moving toward the steep stairs. She glanced around the dank corridor, noticing the unoccupied cells lining the walls. The stench of former slaves and prisoners caused her nose to wrinkle. Nikolina had never ventured into the bowels of the citadel, and the description of the previous slave-filled quarters didn’t do justice to the actuality.

  “Take care on the stairs,” he cautioned, placing a gentle hand in the small of her back. Nikolina nodded appreciatively, raising her long skirts. Within moments, the two were on the main level. Bringing a finger to his pursed lips, Beilzen pointed to the guard. He then motioned to a narrow, dimly lit passage away from the guard’s position.

  Leading her through the winding halls, he avoided most of the well-traveled areas, pausing as footsteps and voices sounded around them. After taking another flight of stairs, Beilzen stopped, sidling against the wall. Nikolina mimicked his movements, as he peered around the corner.

  “We must wait,” he whispered. “Do you need to rest?”

  “No,” she said, dabbing at her face with a silken cloth. “How much further?”

  “The children are kept just there.” He pointed. “At this time the babes are usually resting while the older children have lessons in the adjoining chamber. The caregivers won’t return unless a cry claims their attention. It’s fortuitous that only two caregivers are attending the children, and the guards in the corridors is reduced. With the celebration underway, most of the guard are below near the grand hall.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I’ve planned this meeting to the last detail. Ordinarily, such a thing would be nearly impossible. However, the celebration draws the attention of most in the citadel and lessens the guard in the corridors,” he explained, checking around the corner again.

  “What celebration is this? I haven’t heard anything about it.”

  “No doubt the Zaxson didn’t want his denizens to learn about it. They’re celebrating the union of a Nazilian and an abomination from Noraa. The guests began arriving two suns past, under the cover of darkness,” he added, for effect.

  “An abomination?” Her face scrunched in disgust. Nikolina took comfort in the fact that she was carrying a child of pure Nazilian blood: Danimore Benoist’s first true son.

  She caressed her ripe womb, thinking about their son’s birth. She was several weeks past when Arilian estimated the babe’s birth, and her weariness spoke much to that. Nikolina needed to complete this task before she could no longer. Her father would deliver the phial to Lilinth; albeit, it was her onus to acquire the blood of Oisin.

  “Now,” Beilzen said, taking her hand and leading her down the corridor. When they reached the door, he paused, pressing an ear against it. Patting the air with his hand, he signaled for Nikolina to hold in place as he inched the door open. His lips twitched up in a grin, gesturing her forward.

  “You won’t harm Raithym?” he asked one last time.

  Nikolina’s eyes flashed as an aberrant expression engulfed her visage. “The bastard won’t be harmed,” she rasped.

  The hackles raised on Beilzen’s neck as a chill cascaded down his spine. Something was different—some malefic essence suffused the room, causing his fear and doubt to escalate. He ignored the warning of his heart, and proceeded as he was instructed, gazing warily around the room.

  “The—the child you seek is there,” he said, nervously.

  Nikolina smiled, gliding over to the sleeping child. Her fingertips gently caressed Raithym’s silvery-white hair as she spoke words that Beilzen couldn’t discern.

  “You must make haste,” he said, peeking out into the corridor.

  A moment later, Nikolina’s eyes flickered until all hint of their pale blue coloring was gone. Producing the claw-like object from her pouch, she began speaking in the arcane language, moving her hands rhythmically over the sleeping child.

  She exposed Raithym’s back, rubbing an ointment on his skin, before stabbing with the sharp claw, extracting his coveted lifeblood. Raithym didn’t stir: the
ointment deadened the area, allowing the stab to go unfelt.

  Once the phial was full, Nikolina retracted the claw, sampling the phials contents and then licking the remains from the claw’s edges. Producing a second ointment, she rubbed the reddened area, and then replaced his covers. When she turned back to Beilzen, he nearly yelped.

  Nikolina’s eyes hadn’t shifted back to their pale blue. They were bereft of color as she glided toward the shaking man, wearing a serrated smile. Beilzen’s eyes widened, and then he blinked repeatedly, observing Nikolina’s features gradually revert to that which he knew.

  “Let’s go,” she commanded, pushing him aside.

  Beilzen grunted, grasping his chest after the uncharacteristic force of her shove. Apprehensively, he followed behind her, unable to keep the tremble from his body. When they approached the final set of stairs, he gripped her elbow.

  “Who—who are you?” he demanded.

  For a moment, her smile was wicked, looking at him from toe to head. “One whom you’ve empowered.”

  A gelid torrent encircled the two of them as Nikolina cried out, falling against him, grasping her womb. “Help me, Beilzen.”

  Licking the sudden dryness from his lips, he slid an arm around her waist while grasping the balustrade with the other. “We must hurry, Nikolina, please,” he begged, helping her down the narrow passage.

  “Halt!” Nakaris said, holding his Xtabyren at the ready.

  Nikolina screamed, a pallid viscid material expelling from both her mouth and from between her legs. Her face contorted as she stumbled backward, flailing spasmodically. The guards moved further away while Beilzen attempted to steady the pregnant woman.

  “Help me,” he yelled to the guards, struggling to keep her upright.

  Nikolina continued to thrash, slapping and scratching him, while muttering in a guttural tenor that he couldn’t understand. Clutching his arms, her nails dug into his skin, as she slapped at his face. When he tried to free himself, her eyes bulged, while releasing an otherworldly shriek that reverberated off the stone walls.

  Beilzen’s scream joined hers as an acrid miasma wafted from her open mouth, followed by the fetid stench of decaying flesh.

  “Guardians, help me!” he shouted, falling back, unable to support the seizing woman. A translucent mist emerged, swirling around them, its fading tendrils leaving stabbing chills in its wake, as she collapsed on top of him.

  “By the gods!” he cried out. “Take—take her to a secure chamber and find the Zaxson and Nakshij!” Beilzen ordered, watching Nakaris batting at the fleeing shadow. “Her babe is coming! We must help her. Help me!”

  When they regarded him, Nikolina’s raised skirts allowed a significant view of her predicament. Nakaris sheathed his Xtabyren, moving toward the couple.

  “You heard him! Move! Darius, get the Zaxson and Nakshij! We’re going to chamber six on the second level. Tabrile, help us carry her,” Nakaris ordered, lifting Nikolina off Beilzen. “Chester, fetch Hushar and Micah. Make haste.”

  As Nakaris and Tabrile carried the agonized woman, Beilzen continued to check her condition. Her appearance had deteriorated since they’d left the nursery. Once they rounded the corner to the chamber, Nikolina’s lips were nearly blue. When they entered the room, Pentanimir and Danimore were waiting inside. Zeta gasped, tossing more cushions on the bed as they laid Nikolina down. Before anyone could utter a word, Hushar rushed through the doors with Dalia and Micah.

  “What happened?” Hushar asked.

  Beilzen wrapped Dalia in a tight hug. “The babe, it’s the babe,” was all he could manage.

  Hushar moved toward the bed, cutting the long skirts up the middle.

  “It’s crowning,” she said. “I’m going to need some hot water: two pails.” Hushar grabbed a root from her basket. “Dalia, pass this beneath her nose. She must calm and wake fully.”

  With a skilled, oiled hand, Hushar eased her fingers beneath the child’s head, helping it slide free from it’s mother.

  “Dalia, feel her ribs and press hard beneath them, you must push it free.”

  Dalia nodded, resting her trembling hands on Nikolina’s abdomen. After locating the proper area, she applied pressure, forcing the babe lower.

  “More,” Hushar said, continuing to guide the babe.

  Dalia applied more pressure. When the shoulders emerged, Hushar pulled it free.

  “A son,” Hushar said, cutting him from his mother and wiping the residue away. After wrapping him in a cloth, she handed the crying infant to Zeta, and continued her work.

  Tears spilled from Zeta’s eyes, cradling the babe in her arms.

  “He’s our son,” Danimore whispered. “Just like I promised, my wife. He’s our son: yours and mine.” They walked over to the divan in the corner, oblivious to the commotion continuing around them.

  “Ihnat Lokai Benoist,” Zeta wept.

  Danimore nodded, leaning to kiss her. “Yes, my wife. Our son.”

  Pentanimir managed a smile, observing the exchange. After the heartache and suffering Danimore and Zeta endured, they deserved this happiness. This child couldn’t replace Godfrey, but he brought some joy back into their lives and would surely help them to heal.

  With that thought, he looked over at Nikolina, motionless on the bed. The pang in his chest returned, uncertain of what repercussions they had yet to face.

  “What happened?” Pentanimir asked Beilzen and Nakaris, noticing their horrified expressions, and not for the first time.

  After many long moments, Nakaris uttered one word. “Evil.”

  Burying the Past

  Wosen waved away the approaching guard as he stood at the citadel entrance. The light rain continued to fall, causing a grey mist to cover the city. He inhaled and took a step forward, allowing his eyes to close. The redolent smell of the moist ground brought the difficult memories to the forefront of his mind.

  When he looked toward the temple, tears lined his eyes. The last time he’d gazed upon the regal edifice from this vantage, Nazil’s false gods stood imposingly at each corner. He was in awe then, witnessing the magnificence of Nazil for the first time. Even with his torture and bondage, the city was beautiful. So much had changed.

  He was a Chosen Guard, unlike the last time he’d stood here. On that occasion, he was bound and leading the Zaxson to destroy all that he’d ever known.

  Tracing the archway with his fingertips, he stepped through, allowing the soft rain a place upon his face. He no longer masked his tears, instead using the rain to conceal them, envisioning his imprisonment. But the images weren’t of himself or his captors, they were of Jahno and Hushar.

  “I remember that day,” Jahno said, coming up quietly behind him. “I recall the pink and orange streaked sky the morning that you left.”

  Wosen nodded, seeing Jahno’s pained expression as he recounted the memory.

  “The air was filled with the smell of hickory from the Kadul,” Jahno continued. “Those fires burned endlessly, it seemed, even when you returned atop the Desu Beast.

  “We prayed for you, Wosen, Hushar and me. We prayed that the Guardians would keep you safe and return you to us unharmed: not as a prisoner, but free.”

  “You were my only friends. When I felt your hand on my shoulder, it was as if the Guardians themselves lent me their strength. If not for you and Hushar, I wouldn’t have had the will to return. I couldn’t leave you here to suffer.”

  “Why do you allow your own suffering to persist? Nazil has caused torment enough, Wosen, for all of us. It’s time to embrace the good here, and release that which you’ve defeated?”

  “I—”

  Jahno shook his head, silencing him.

  “You mustn’t allow Draizeyn his victory. He vowed to end your life, but instead, his actions actually ignited it.

  “With the Guardian’s guidance, you’ve defeated them, all of them. Don’t veil that victory in the misery of your former imprisonment. You can’t permit the ghosts of the past to purlo
in the blessings of your future.”

  “I permitted it before,” Wosen said, stepping back inside the citadel, and closed the doors behind him.

  “Before?”

  “But no longer. The pain of their treatment will never leave me, but nor will it rule me. What happened to me…to us in Nazil will never be forgotten. However, what we have now, the lives we’ve reclaimed is more joyous than any pain the former leaders could’ve inflicted.

  “The dark chamber is dismantled, and now, I’ve dismantled it in my heart as well. I didn’t merely castigate myself, I did the same to Hibret, causing us both to suffer what’s past. She deserves more than I’ve been previously able to give. I need to be the man that she fell in love with, that she forgave and accepted when I didn’t even love or accept myself.”

  Jahno smiled, pulling him into a hug. “The priest, Kuhani was able to help you?”

  “He did that and more. I attempted to bury the worst of my abuse, to…to force it from my heart and mind. I was ashamed of how they used me, and even more, what I’d done to my family that caused it all to be.

  “Though it freed my conscious mind, acting as a provisional remedy, it was embedded into my subconscious, deteriorating me in ways I couldn’t have fathomed.

  “It wasn’t until those memories were brought forth could I purge the pain and guilt fully: the guilt of my youth and my imprudence, of the tenacity and ignorance that led to the attack on my father and our home.

  “Drah’kuu Kuhani is more than a priest, he’s a true healer. Not only of the body, but the mind, most of all.”

  “Have you spoken to Hibret about everything that happened here?”

  “When I first arrived. I’d already told her about the wounds she could see, now she’s aware of those she couldn’t.”

  “Hibret loves you very much, Wosen. I’ve heard her reminiscing with Thalassa about your times in Bandari, and how she doesn’t remember a time not loving you.” Jahno clapped him on the shoulder, gesturing down the corridor. “Thalassa loves you, too. You’re like a brother to her.”

  “My sentiments are the same. When I first saw her in the mountains, it was like a vision of some blessed being. She emerged from a light, as I was cowering on the ground after meeting the Protectors and Desu Beasts.”