The Nesilia's War Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set: Books 4-6)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “I wonder what history will say if Nesilia wipes all of us out. Will it even remember him, or you, or me? Will it even matter that we ever existed?”

  “Of course, it will,” Torsten said. “Even if not a soul remembers, we will know what we did. That we came together to fight the darkness. That means something.”

  “And yet, Muskigo is still dead,” Mahraveh said.

  “Not in vain. My Lady, he showed us that even the greatest warrior in Pantego cannot stand against Nesilia alone. It will take all of us.”

  “The greatest?” she asked. “You claimed your battle ended in a tie.”

  “I said we both lost, but truthfully, I would have died first.” Torsten gestured to the stands of the great arena, bustling with men and woman preparing for the ceremony. “I suppose that sort of thing matters in a place like this.”

  “Only victory matters.” Mahraveh finished sharpening and held the blade up to her face. The tip glinted in the morning sunlight as she turned it over to examine both sides, blowing away the metal shavings. Then, she extended it toward Torsten so he could see.

  “Well done,” he said.

  “I had it reforged after White Bridge,” Mahraveh said.

  “These weapons will be of no use,” Torsten said. “Nesilia’s somehow taken control of the body of an upyr. A young woman who I knew. You remind me of her, actually, back when she was amongst the living.”

  “Is that a good thing?” Mahraveh asked.

  “As long as you don’t also plan on destroying the world.”

  “Only if that’s what it takes to save it.”

  Torsten tripped over his response, then nodded. That was the Shesaitju in her. Victory at all costs, at least until their past Caleef had surrendered to Liam and broken their spirits.

  They could never understand that Sidar Rakun surrendered because he knew, otherwise, the afhems would keep fighting until the Shesaitju went extinct. Just as Torsten knew that even if Sora hadn’t sparked that fire in Winde Port, Muskigo would have razed the city just to label it a victory.

  “It won’t come to that,” Torsten said with as much vim as he could muster. All the wars in his lifetime, he usually had the knowledge to understand what the future would hold, whether they won or lost. Not this time.

  Mahraveh reeled back the spear and stood. She spun it a few times, then thrust at the air, metal humming. “You can learn almost everything you need to about a man by fighting him,” she said.

  “On that, we agree,” Torsten replied.

  “My father hated you,” she went on, “but he did respect you.”

  “Something else we agree on.”

  “When I proposed this idea of marriage, my father knew that if he brought it to you, you’d understand. Not Sir Nikserof, not your King, or anyone else on his Council—only you.”

  “Sometimes logic dictates the only move. Our gods clearly want us to face Nesilia together.”

  “My God is dead,” Mahraveh said, this too without emotion.

  Torsten’s brow furrowed. “What?”

  “It is my belief that both our gods gave every ounce of power they had left to bring us all here, alive.”

  “That’s not true,” Torsten said.

  “It doesn’t matter either way. I have to believe that, like them, my father died protecting you for a reason.”

  “He was protecting everyone.”

  Mahraveh grunted, then sat back down. “King Pi thinks very highly of you, Sir Unger,” she said. “He’s not what I expected, but he ran to you like a son to a father. I don’t why, nor do I care, but it’s clear to me that though he is the door, the key to the Glass Kingdom is through you.”

  “Pi will be a strong and just King, my Lady. Of that, I no longer have any doubt. For a long time, I did, but Nesilia put him through an Exile worse than any of us, and here he is still, ready to do what it takes to face her.”

  “And because you believe in him, so do I. So, I ask of you, Sir Unger, champion of your King. Warrior to warrior. If we defeat Nesilia, and we all get a chance to keep writing history, don’t let my people be erased from it.”

  “Be true to our King, and I promise you, I will not.” Torsten took a deep breath before deciding to sit beside her. He noticed the Serpent Guards tense, closing in without being obvious about it. But his movement was purposeful. If what she wanted was ever to come to pass, the respect would have to go two ways. She wasn’t his Queen yet.

  “Fighting may be all I’m good at, my Lady,” Torsten said softly. “But I’m so tired of it. When we defeat Nesilia, it will be the last war I ever wage.”

  “’When we defeat her,’” she repeated. “I like that.”

  Mahraveh looked straight at Torsten’s face. For the briefest moment, the hard edge of a young woman who had to act like a goddess vanished, and Torsten saw the person beneath.

  In that moment, Torsten wondered if, perhaps, Nesilia’s return wasn’t all awful. Perhaps, Iam let it come to pass in order to bring the people of Pantego together for once after the God Feud ripped everyone apart millennia ago.

  He hoped, though, he knew deep down, it wasn’t true.

  XII

  The Caleef

  You look positively radiant, my Caleef,” one of the palace sages said, smearing a bit of gold-colored makeup across Mahi’s eyelids.

  Mahi let them pamper her, though she didn’t like it. The old eunuchs didn’t bear names, none they dared to speak, at least. They were her servants, and far too many packed the tiny room in which she prepared for the wedding. She’d ensured it was the very same room—deep in Tal’du Dromesh’s undercroft—where she was kept before competing in the al’ Tariq tournament.

  Shallow water washed over her bare feet. She couldn’t feel the temperature, but she knew it had to be warm this time of year. She did, however, feel the mass of nigh’jels flocking around her. The entire cavern glowed a soft, pulsing green.

  Another servant finished adjusting the hem of her dress. It draped around her feet, gold-threaded netting with shells or gems at each intersection. The dress solidified around her knees, transitioning to extravagant gold cloth with delicate ornamental embroidery, then back to a pattern of transparent netting over her midriff reminiscent of waves. Her breasts, too, were covered by the gold cloth. Around her neck, she wore an elaborate crystal necklace given to her by the Glassmen.

  Mahi had never cared much about clothing, but she had to admit, the dress was stunning. Especially considering it had been crafted only in weeks. And the necklace… she’d never seen anything like it. There was a gentle beauty to the unity between Kingdoms being so captured by a single outfit. For what was glass if not sand, blown and refined?

  Not only had there never been a female Caleef, there had never been a Caleef to get married. There was no reason for it. The position wasn’t dynastic. For any Shesaitju woman to have ever been willing to marry a Caleef would mean they saw themselves also as a vessel of the God of Sand and Sea. No Shesaitju woman would’ve ever dared think that.

  This was unprecedented. Mahi knew that. And so, she let these loyal servants of her position and their god do as they pleased. She even allowed them to cover her head with a veil, beads over her eyes. She let them build up the sharp points at the shoulders of her dress, and stretch the tight sleeves down her arms, which, at least—thankfully—faded to netting around her wrists.

  She played along, though she hated restricting her body in such a way to be no good in a fight.

  The fight comes after, she reminded herself. For now, I need the support.

  She knew that beyond doing something no Caleef had ever done, as the first female Caleef, those were secondary concerns. She was marrying a Glassman. A King, chosen by his own god or not, that’s all they’d see.

  They wouldn’t see the smart, capable young man she hadn’t expected to meet, with loyal, worthy advisors at his side. They’d see pink-skin, a diminutive figure, and the memories of their fathers being destroyed by his.

&nb
sp; And so, Mahi had to look the part. Beautiful, strong, unflinching, and unquestionably Shesaitju.

  She manipulated the clasp of the necklace. “Take it off,” she said.

  “Excuse me, my Caleef?” one of the sages remarked.

  “Take it off. My people, they will only see this as representation that we are again being collared. This is a union, not captivity.”

  “I… uh—“

  “Now!” Mahi snapped, and her servants obeyed.

  She lamented losing it for the sheer beauty of the thing, and truly, she didn’t want her future husband to be insulted—but her people came first.

  “And… finished,” one of the other sages said, perfecting her makeup. Mahi wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone look so pleased with themselves, except maybe Babrak after he’d killed Farhan and seized favor with the other afhems.

  A servant woman held up a mirror, and Mahi finally had a chance to see the fruits of their efforts. Tapered lines of glittering gold circled her eyes, stretching toward her temples like wings. The way it contrasted against her pure-black skin made it feel bright as sunlight. The same color lined her thin lips.

  She reached up and ran her thumb along them. Whether it be her shell of hardened nigh’jel blood or the gold makeup, she missed how she used to look. Who she used to be. She missed the chance to care about people and not all the people.

  Mahi pulled her hand back.

  “I hope this necklace will better suit you, my Caleef,” one of the sages said. It took her a bit to find the speaker, there were so many, all with soft, impassive voices. He presented a necklace made of onyx pearls, found only at the bottom of the deep Boiling Waters.

  “This will be fine,” she said. “I can handle it. This is enough. Leave me.” She snatched it from his hands, her glower sending him and all the others filing out of the room. She spun to face the rocky wall, the bottom of her dress twisting beneath the shallow water.

  She stared down at the pearls. It was said that in complete darkness, a purplish glow emanated from their centers. The nigh’jels made the room too bright to tell, so she closed them in her palms and peered through the crack between her fingers.

  “I can help with that, my Caleef.”

  The necklace slipped and splashed in the water. Mahi immediately crouched, reaching in to fish it out, but the nigh’jels crowded her arms, brushing against it with all their innumerable tentacles.

  She knew the work that went into retrieving pearls like these. Her people had to dive to the seafloor, in rough waters filled with killer creatures. Some may have died in the effort to rush the production of this necklace so she could look more regal than her future Glassman husband.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Bit’rudam said. He rushed in to help, but Mahi barred him with one outstretched arm.

  With her other, she dug around under the water until her finger looped something, and she pulled it free. One of the nigh’jels hung from her arm as it emerged. She grunted and flung it aside, then found herself squeezing the necklace, drawing deep, ragged breaths.

  “My Caleef, is everything all right?” Bit’rudam asked, not daring touch her.

  “You’re too smart to ask that question, Bit’rudam,” she replied, exhaling slowly through her teeth.

  “I just mean—“

  He got tongue-tied when she turned to face him. His eyes told the whole story. They studied her from head to toe, while his cheeks went a darker shade.

  “You look—“

  “Is the arena secure?” Mahi interrupted him again.

  “It is,” Bit’rudam said. “Sir Unger and I both checked everything. Both the Shieldsmen and Serpent Guard will circle the arena around you. Two warships are moored beyond the dam. If the Glassmen try to make a move on you, they’d be killing their own King.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  “You should be. This Sir Unger… I do not trust any man whose eyes I cannot read.”

  “He has no eyes, Bit’rudam.”

  “So, the pink-skinned tricksters say,” he said.

  “Just do your job and keep the arena safe,” Mahi said, a harsh edge entering her tone.

  What was this all for? If her own most loyal servants refused to trust their soon-to-be allies, what good was it?

  “Always, my Caleef… it’s just…” He turned toward the water. Mahi waited for him to glance up before she nodded him along. “Are you still sure you want to do this?” he asked.

  “Do you know how tired I am of that question?” she answered.

  “I know. You’re right.”

  “I’m trying to be a Caleef who actually helps our people, one who uses this power, or whatever it is I was chosen for, to change things, not sit on a throne and watch like a spectator of the Tal’du Dromesh.”

  “I know.”

  “Do I want to marry a stranger? No, Bit’rudam, I do not. But—“

  Without warning, Bit’rudam lunged and kissed her. His strong arms wrapped her back and pulled her close so she could feel his chest heaving. His lips pressed tight, and her eyes closed as she found herself instinctually kissing him in return.

  And then, she remembered her last first kiss in this very room—with Jumaat, right before their ignoring of the laws caused him to forfeit his life to the Siren. Her best friend ever. Her only friend ever.

  “No!” Mahi shrieked, pushing Bit’rudam away so hard, he fell back into the water. Before she knew it, she was on top of him, stretching the pearl necklace across his throat with both hands and pushing.

  His yellow-flecked eyes went wide as he gurgled. His mouth and nose were barely above water, but he didn’t defend himself. Never even kicked. He simply reached out to stroke her cheek.

  She rolled off, though remained crouching in the water and ready to pounce. Bit’rudam gasped, then coughed as he crawled back to lean against the cavern wall.

  “My Caleef,” he rasped. “I—“

  “What were you thinking!” she barked.

  Bit’rudam pushed off with one arm to sit up straight, still wheezing. “I thought… I needed you to know.”

  Mahi glared at him, fuming, unable to speak. She could hardly breathe.

  “Mahraveh,” he went on. “Caleef or not, I have never met a woman like you. From the moment I laid eyes upon you, I knew that the Current brought us together for a reason, and so I ask you now, as a man who loves you, do not do this.”

  “You would damn the entire world just for me?” she whispered.

  “Is it really that simple for you?”

  Mahi relaxed her stance. “Nothing about it is simple. It’s just what’s necessary.”

  Bit’rudam frowned. Tears welled up in a look not befitting a man of his status as her primary protector.

  “Well, I lied,” he said. “I thought I could serve you through all of this, despite my feelings, but I cannot. I will resign my duties after the ceremony.”

  “Stand up, Bit’rudam,” she said sternly. He looked perplexed. “I said stand up. Good.” She approached him, then patted his gold pauldrons, and ensured his armor was straight. “That is the last I’ll hear of that. You say you love me, then prove it. Protect me.”

  “But Mahraveh, I—“

  She placed her fingers over his lips. “I said that’s the last of this. Clean yourself off, and we’ll greet the future together.” She stared into his eyes for a moment longer, then dragged her thumb across his lips and to his cheek before walking to the open door.

  “And Bit’rudam.”

  He looked to her, hope in his eyes.

  “Kiss me again without my permission, and you’ll lose your tongue like the others.”

  She couldn’t describe what sort of sound he made behind her, but it dripped with embarrassment before he stammered, “Yes, my Caleef.”

  Mahi set off through the undercroft without another word. She waited until she was out of sight to feel her chest, realizing that her heart beat like it hadn’t since becoming Caleef. Th
en, she noted how she’d been careful to add ‘without her permission.’ She hadn’t even thought about it, but the opening for her and Bit’rudam remained.

  She didn’t mind.

  It was nice to have someone around who reminded her that no matter who she was, she was still alive. She’d survived the temptation of a simpler life with a man of her own race who she knew she could love—perhaps already did. Now, she knew she was ready.

  “My Caleef, there you are!” Tingur said, hurrying down the tunnel on his bum leg, accompanied by guards. He froze upon the sight of her, offering a very different expression than the one Bit’rudam had displayed, though flattering, nonetheless.

  “The Current flows with you today,” he said, bowing his head. “In all its splendor.”

  Mahi stopped, straightened her dress, and took a deep breath to compose herself. “What is it, Tingur?”

  “I’ve been advised to have you hurry. The Glassmen insist their ceremonial rites be read at the high sun, but we mustn’t be a moment later. That storm will set upon us soon, and the sages predict it will be strong.”

  “Storms seem to follow me,” Mahi said.

  Tingur chuckled. “Indeed.”

  “What do you think this one foretells?”

  “On the islands, sea storms bring ruin, but also new beginnings. A changing of the tide, so to speak. I believe it to be a good omen, my Caleef.”

  “Tingur, she’s ready,” Bit’rudam said from down the tunnel.

  “I can see that,” Tingur replied.

  Mahi glanced back and saw Bit’rudam strolling toward them, mustering his most confident stride. His expression betrayed no sign of their latest interaction, and of that, she was glad. Sir Unger would sniff out an illicit affair in a second if Bit’rudam couldn’t control his emotions. Even Tingur didn’t notice, promptly turning to lead them.

  Maybe it’s what he needed, Mahi thought. Or what I needed…

  XIII

  The Outcast

  After a long trek down the mountain, Tum Tum and the others stood in a place he knew well.