“Dani—” Pentanimir started, but once he saw Raithym climbing out of the bed, he pushed Brahanu protectively behind him, moving further away.
“What in all hells,” Pentanimir breathed, helping Danimore from the floor. The siblings backed toward the door as Raithym walked forward.
“Father?” Raithym said again, reaching out to him.
“Is—is it Raithym?” Thalassa whispered.
“It can’t be, Sister,” Pentanimir said, putting more distance between them. “That can’t be Raithym.”
Danimore didn’t move. He stared, wide-eyed, analyzing his every feature. Whatever this was, he couldn’t turn from it as it kept stepping closer.
“Father,” Raithym spoke clearly, reaching out to hug him.
“Don’t, Brother,” Temian warned.
“How can I not? This is my son…it’s Raithym. By the Guardians, it’s truly Raithym,” he said, enfolding him in his arms.
“What’s wrong, Father?” Raithym asked with unnatural clarity. “Have I done something wrong?”
Danimore glanced back at his siblings, desperately attempting to mask his fear.
“Of—of course not, my—my son, you haven’t done anything wrong.”
Danimore eased Raithym’s torn tunic aside, revealing his birthmark, and then turned him toward his siblings.
“It is Raithym.”
“How?” Pentanimir asked.
Danimore could only shake his head, turning his face from Raithym so he couldn’t see his expression.
Hibret and Wosen entered the room with Zeta in between them. As she was escorted inside, Raithym smiled, reaching out to her.
“Mother?”
Symeon lunged forward, catching Zeta and Ihnat as she collapsed. After carrying her to the bed, he handed Ihnat to Danimore, and took a defensive position near the door.
“What is this?” Hibret asked, clutching Wosen’s arm.
“It’s Raithym, our…our nephew,” Pentanimir said.
“Raithym?”
When Brahanu spoke his name, Raithym turned, smiling sweetly.
“Aunt Brahanu,” he said.
As his arms slid around her waist, she stifled the urge to scream, wanting to force him away. Gingerly returning his hug, she forced a smile, until he moved away.
“How is this possible?” Temian whispered.
“I—” Danimore started, but a crescendo of Desu Beasts’ screeches echoed through the night sky.
“The Protectors,” Thalassa breathed, drawing Jahno nearer.
Pentanimir’s heartbeat quickened, glancing over at Danimore and Raithym. “I’ll go and greet them,” Pentanimir said, gesturing to Symeon. “Everyone, remain here and don’t let anyone else in this room.”
Pentanimir and Symeon rushed down the corridors, waving the concerned guards away. After ascending the stairs to the roof, Symeon flung the doors open, watching the guards scrambling away.
“What?” Pentanimir said, his mouth going slack. All seven Protectors were poised atop their beasts, drawing their doubled-sided axes from their backs. Arinak stood in the center, encircled by the rest. The illumination of his helm intensified as he continuously searched their surroundings. After completing his scans, Arinak dismounted, and Pentanimir immediately understood his precaution.
“AsZar,” Pentanimir gasped, lowering to a knee.
She glided over to the men, resting a hand on their shoulders. “Please, rise,” she said, melodiously.
“AsZar, you don’t ever leave the protection of the Animus Wood. It isn’t safe for you here.”
“The Guardians and their children are with me,” she said, moving down the stone steps. “My well-being is infinitesimal compared with what’s happened to Raithym. Mah’saahc is unhindered, Zaxson, and this threat supersedes my significance.” She paused. “And my life.
“It has begun.”
This diverse epic fantasy concludes in book III, Piercing the Darkness.
If you enjoyed Seed of Scorn, please leave a review.
Thank you
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Aaron-Michael Hall is an award-winning author who enjoys writing diverse epic fantasy with a grimdark edge, high fantasy, and science fantasy romance. The debut novel, The Rise of Nazil is a Readers’ Favorite award winner (2017), and has won numerous reader awards.
Now, when she’s not enjoying her favorite authors (Octavia Butler, Michael Moorcock, Robert Jordan, NK Jemisin, RA Salvatore, Brandon Sanderson, etc.), being super mom, wrangling stampeding miniature dachshunds, or managing her 9 to 5, she’s interweaving genres, creating languages, and adding just the right edge to keep you turning pages.
When asked why she wrote this series, Aaron-Michael simply said, “It needed to be written.”
It’s her hope that the readers enjoy the wonders of Faélondul and Ahmezurhran even more than she enjoyed writing about them.
You can contact Aaron-Michael via the information below:
https://www.aaronmichaelhall.com
https://www.amazon.com/author/aaronmichaelhall
https://www.facebook.com/Aaron-Michael-Hall-841846452589704
https://twitter.com/TheRiseofNazil
https://www.youtube.com/aaronmichaelhall
EPIC FANTASY WITH A GRIMDARK EDGE
The Rise of Nazil I
Seed of Scorn II
Piercing the Darkness III
SCIENCE FANTASY
Rites of Heirdron I
Rites of Heirdron Audiobook
Orbs of Trenihgea II
DIVERSE EPIC FANTASY
Rites of Heirdron Duology
Coming in 2019:
*The Rise of Nazil box set – the complete trilogy
*Blood of Oisin – Book I
*Keepers of Nine – Kurintor Nyusi Book II
Common Faélondulian Terms
AmziAge of decision – K’ohshul
AsZarLeader of Afferea
CaretakerOverseer of a city/village
ChaNazilian priest
Cha AshamHead Nazilian priest
Chosen GuardNazilian elite guard
DawaPlace of healing
Desu BeastBeast companion of the Protectors
Doh’mahn Vwazi Tr’EonDark gate
Drah’kuuPriest - Mehlonii
Dream WineHerbed wine for sleep
Fire LandsEastern desert lands
First ChosenHead of the Chosen Guard
The FourNazilian gods
HeldingStudent priest
High AdvisorHead of the council
JaenituBeast resembling a panther/wolf
JasiriWarriors of K’ohshul
K’ohshulSouthern isle
Ke’ohnziConduit of the Guardians
LakaarHuman healer
Maiden’s TearsHerbal mix to prevent/end pregnancy
MehloniiGuardians’ language
Miir StonesAncient communing stones
NakshijSecond of Nazil
NohekHuman priest
Nohek KarabHead Human priest
OhorOtherworld spirit beings
PledgeNazilian betrothal
PromiseHuman betrothal
Protector (Dessalonian)(Giants) Guardians’ children
SanctiumCursed isle of Lilinth
SentriesHuman guards
Serpent’s VenomNazilian paralyzing serum
The SevenHuman Gods
ShadokynOne of the dark realms
Shadow FrostLands beyond Dessalonia
ShijahnWife of the Nakshij
SulosHoly book of the Cha
SyahndruWestern isle
ThresholdPreternatural passageways
T’reyUhm R’aFekDivine gate
TumishiFemale temple servants
XtabyrenHonored Nazilian sword
ZaontrasWife of the Zaxson
ZaxsonLeader of Nazil and Faélondul
Enjoy a FREE sample of the award-winning epic fantasy Kurintor Nyusi. Welcome to the Fifth Kingdom.
Kalvgah
A plume
of dust wafted into the air when the blow struck, propelling her backward to the ground. Nurisha grunted, glaring up at the man. She nursed her throbbing wrist, uncertain if she could withstand another one of his powerful strikes.
Get up! Get up! her thoughts urged, willing her body to submit to her mind. She focused on the dangerous man stalking toward her, his sword glinting in the dawning rays cresting over the treetops. Each of his calculated steps matched a beat of her pulse, sending a rush of blood through her heart.
She slid backward, desperately groping for her dropped sword, never taking her eyes from the daunting figure. He was but strides away when her fingertips grazed the edge of the pommel. After reclaiming her scimitar, she sprang to her feet, assuming a defensive posture.
“You should’ve stayed down, lass.” His enormous build shielded the sun’s rise, casting an obscuring shadow over her slight frame.
“My Da taught me to never stay down.”
Dodging the oncoming sideswipe, Nurisha dove forward, ending up at his back. Though his weapon missed its mark, her foot didn’t, kicking him hard in the gut as she went by, landing in a crouch beyond his reach. It was a well-landed kick, and he’d felt it.
“Your size is your weakness,” she said. “And so is your arrogance.”
“You’ll pay for that,” he said, tightening his grip on his sword.
“We’ll see.”
With seemingly unnatural speed, he roared, attempting a glissade. Her eyes widened, retreating instead of parrying as he’d predicted. She whirled from his reach again, initiating a backward somersault while drawing her second sword. Leaping from a defensive crouch, she crossed her scimitars, meeting his downward swipe. The strength behind his attack nearly drove her to her knees and she struggled to remain upright.
“Your Da should’ve taught you to stay down,” he sneered. “It would’ve been easier on you.”
“The Sans don’t do ‘easy’,” she said, breathlessly.
Nurisha’s visage and movements were contrary to her words. Her arms shook violently, pushing back against his blade. She couldn’t match his strength or his weight, which he applied to deliberately attempt to overpower her.
Her teeth gnashed as she gave ground, rolling to the side, barely missing the tip of his blade. She leapt back to her feet, only to be forced into a backbend by his powerful thrust—his blade but digits away from her face as she hit the dirt. She rolled again, clumsily regaining her footing while parrying his sword a hair’s breadth from her face. When he reached for his dagger, she dipped low, side-sliding, catching him in the ribs with the hilt of her sword. As he stumbled, she kicked up, sending his weapon high while thrusting forward with her left sword. He parried the poor attempt, shifting his dagger in a reverse-cut position.
Nurisha blocked his next thrust, but paid for it with a wicked slash at her throat. As she fell away, she lost her right sword and tried to compensate with her left. He laughed, batting away her scimitar and clutching her wrist.
“You should’ve stayed down,” he said, his dagger’s edge against her throat.
“Qaradan? Qaradan?” A voiced called from behind them.
He released an exasperated sigh, tapping his dagger against her chin. “There’ll be no one to save you next time.”
“Qaradan! How long ya gonna make me wait? Lareese might toss my meal to the pigs if ya don’t get this wheel fixed. C’mon now, I’m miss’n my meal.”
Qaradan winked, clapping Nurisha on the shoulder. “Always listen to your Da,” he said, gesturing toward their barn. In truth, it was a modest six-room cottage with a smithy and barn attached to it. They’d lived in the town of Kalvgah since she was a child. Her father, Qaradan, was the only smith within the neighboring villages. With the lack of farriers, wheelwrights, and armorers available to the commoners, the stream of customers was constant, but the earnings meager.
Most of the folk in the villages couldn’t pay for the goods and services he provided. Ofttimes, Qaradan would accept livestock or other wares in trade. Now, they had a fair amount of goats, cows, chickens, and pigs for their farm. It was a good living, and a simple life that she’d grown to love.
“Move along, Cassie,” she said to the goat as it came up beside her. “I need to fetch some eggs for Da’s breakfast. Move along.”
Nurisha chuckled, roughly patting its ears as she went about her daily routine. She could hear Qaradan and Strähn bickering about the morning meal as usual. Strähn’s cart needed repairs often, and he squabbled about its condition and Qaradan’s lax demeanor when fixing it.
Once she’d fried the eggs and ham, she heard Qaradan’s heavy footfalls on the wooden steps. She rushed around, setting out his meal and pouring him a hot cup of coffee.
“Smells good, ‘Risha. Any biscuits left?”
“They’re warming now, Da. Did you want some honey, too?”
He rubbed his hands together, offering a broad smile. “Nothing better than your hot biscuits and honey.”
“Well, I can think of a few things,” she said, bringing the basket to the table and taking a seat across from him. As he began to eat, she nibbled her bottom lip, looking up at him. Qaradan was a large man, larger than most in the surrounding towns and villages. Although nearly fifty, his work as a smith had kept his considerable six-foot-five-inch frame well-toned and muscled. His raven curls was shorn short, still full, yet peppered with streaks of silver. Nurisha didn’t miss the attention he received from the women in town. She smiled at that. If her Da noticed the extra attention that they paid to him, he didn’t make it known. He put his energies into their small family and farm.
“You’re sure quiet today,” he said, shoveling another spoonful of eggs into his mouth. “Don’t worry about your training; we’ll have more time before evening meal. Gotta focus more on the sword than those fancy tricks you like doing with your bow. Now, you got Aljoša doing them, too. You both need more sparring practice, but I’ve got a few things lined up today, and the animals need tending first.”
“You’ve been more aggressive lately,” she said, stroking the fresh bruise on her arm. “I used to fare better when we sparred.”
“Can’t get better by staying the same,” he said, motioning to his empty cup.
She grabbed the tin of steaming coffee and another slice of ham. “I know, Da. I’ll do better next time. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“Not Druehox, I hope. That coxcomb skamelar ain’t worth teats on a bull.”
“Da!”
Qaradan shrugged. “Well, he ain’t.”
“Don’t worry about Druehox. He’s the last thing on my mind. I was thinking about heading down through Shade Fall to do some fishing after tending the bees. It’s been a while since we had some fresh fish.”
“Might be best to wait and we’ll go together in a few days. Folks been talking ‘bout some big cat roaming around Shade Fall. No telling what might be lurking in them woods.”
“Da, I’m not afraid of any cat. I’ve been trained by the best.” She smiled. “I’m no stranger to the woods either. Besides, not even a wild cat would dare approach the daughter of the formidable Qaradan San.”
He chuckled at that, leaning back in his chair. “Still, no sense taking unnecessary chances. We’ll go down to Crossover River in a day or two. Plenty to do here first.”
She sighed wistfully, offering a nod of assent. As he continued his meal, she thought about the last time they’d trekked down to Crossover River. When they traversed the earthen trail, she felt as if someone or something was watching them. Nurisha couldn’t shake that feeling, and the hairs on her arms rose as she thought about it.
“Is that still bothering you?” Qaradan asked, noticing her rubbing her wrist.
She examined the raised, discolored mark again. It had begun bothering her lately, and was larger than it had been. She’d been born with the mark, and never thought much of it until a few weeks ago. After her twentieth name day, she noticed the elongation. Now, it was nearly three digits�
��twice the length it had been. At first, it merely itched as if a dozen insects had stung her during the night. Lately she’d noticed a strange shimmering and tingling sensation as well. She didn’t mention that to Qaradan. He worried too much as it was.
“Just itches a little.”
“Best be going to visit Chaween and have her look at it. She’ll make up a salve for you and probably a tincture of herbs. Can’t have the best archer in town missing her shot ‘cause her wrist won’t stop itching.”
She laughed. “I can do without Chaween’s concoctions. They taste horrible.”
“Yep, always have, and they always work.”
“Da?”
He shook his head, stuffing the rest of a biscuit in his mouth. “Ain’t taking no for an answer, ‘Risha,” he said, rising and kissing her cheek. “Tend to your chores for now. Aljoša will be by soon enough to help in the smithy. I want you to pay Chaween a visit on the morrow and get some of that pinacate salve when you go.”
Her face scrunched. “Da, it stinks!”
“Worse thing I’ve ever smelled ‘cept a rotting boar.” He chuckled. “If we’re going through Shade Fall it’d be best to have the salve. Now, go on and tend your chores, got plenty of my own to do.”
“Yes, Da,” she said, not turning until the door had closed behind him.
Qaradan was the only father she’d ever known. Nurisha’s mother, Esmel, died when she was but ten. That’s when she’d learned she wasn’t their natural child, although she always felt as if she was. In fact, many townsfolk had commented on their likeness. Esmel had the same caramel-colored skin and coiled tresses as she did. Nurisha even had one brown eye like Esmel, the other grey like Qaradan.
They loved her endlessly, and probably would’ve never told her if Esmel hadn’t insisted after falling ill. They’d discovered Nurisha at the edge of the Matryohn Wood near the northeast side of the kingdom. Esmel had spoken of it as a miracle straight from the goddess Yemojan.
Seed of Scorn Page 49