“Join them?”
“Yes. This is only the beginning. When Daracus returned to Nazil, I was relieved. Now that you’re here, you’ll visit Cazaal with me. Brahanu needs to meet you. They must be kept safe.”
“Have you seen her?”
“I have.” Pentanimir smiled. “She was more beautiful than I remembered. There was a glow about her, a radiance. It took all within me not to take her in my arms when first I saw her. I tried, Brother, but I couldn’t resist, and I had to be a part of her.”
“You became one with her? In Cazaal?”
“Not as I wanted, but yes. My son grows large now.”
Danimore smiled. “I can’t wait to meet the woman who’s stolen your heart. Never did I think it was possible. Does anyone know about your relationship?”
“No. Brahanu was promised as I’m pledged,” he sighed. “Her promise has been fulfilled, and her husband believes my son is his.”
“She’s married! But once your son is born, he’ll know that he’s not the father. What’re you going to do?”
“I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but I can’t change it. Itai is a good man, and Brahanu loves him. However, that doesn’t change the love Brahanu and I feel for each other. Even though she carries my child, his appearance might not betray that. Raithym looks fully Nazilian, although he’s merely half. Many children in Bandari are the same, not showing any Nazilian heritage.”
“As you say,” Danimore relented. “I’ll go where you lead, but will Brahanu follow? If she’s wed, won’t her husband protest?”
“He might. Even after Brahanu told him about us, his love didn’t fade. He’ll want to protect her, as will her family. But once I inform them about Draizeyn’s plan, I hope they’ll have a change of mind.”
Reaching for the cruse of wine, Pentanimir paused, hearing the light tapping from the door.
“Enter,” he said, an immediate smile finding his face when Zeta and Raithym walked in the room. He stepped over to the two, tousling Raithym’s hair.
“He’s gotten large. I scarcely recognized him.”
“And heavy, too,” Zeta giggled.
Latching the door, Pentanimir stared over at Gali, standing motionless against the wall.
“I’m glad that you could come, Gali. It took much to secure your passage, but I would’ve paid whatever Sidra demanded to have you with us.”
“Thank you, milord, it’s an honor to serve.”
“Gali, please,” Danimore said. “It’s difficult, I know, but you’re not in service to us. We’ll need to portray this only to keep you safe. We’re no longer in Nazil, and much will be different.”
“It’s true, Gali,” Zeta said. “I understand your fear and distrust. I felt much the same when Dani saved me from the citadel. It took time for me to trust them and start becoming myself again. But they’re not like many we’ve known. We do only our duties, and they don’t lie in the bedchamber. Danimore and Pentanimir are good men. If it weren’t so, they wouldn’t have insisted upon your purchase. It was the only way to free you from Nazil.”
Gali glanced up, unsure what to believe. Yannick had spoken much the same when she first arrived in Nazil. So convincing was he, that when Yannick took her for the first time, he was gentle, taking great care not to wound her. Such treatment didn’t last. She was soon shared with anyone her former master felt worthy of his prize from Kaleo.
Raithym’s squeal and accompanying giggle brought Gali from her contemplations. She observed Danimore playing with the half-human child. Such behavior wasn’t that of a typical Nazilian, not the ones she had known. It was too much for her to comprehend. Her fear was real, and it would take much to release her from the mental bondage.
Gali flinched as Pentanimir lifted her head to his. Immediately, he raised up his hands, taking a step back. “Forgive me. Gali, you are beautiful, and remind me of someone very dear to me. Recognizing and appreciating that beauty doesn’t mean that I want you to pleasure me. If this was what I wanted, I would’ve done so when I visited Yannick. You haven’t been brought here for our pleasures. I’m offering to return you to Kaleo.”
“Home?” she asked, weakly.
“Yes, Kaleo is westward, less than a day’s ride. If you want to return home, we’ll take you.”
“I decide?” she said, anxiously rubbing her arms, as a hand lowered to her abdomen. “I don’t know if anyone there would have me. My elder brother was lost, and my father, he—. If my mother and younger brother yet live, I would like to see them again.”
Zeta inched closer, noting the placement of her hand. “Are you with child?”
“I—I don’t know. Sir Merrimont has wanted me with him often of late, and I’ve slept at his side the past three full moons. He wouldn’t allow me the herbs as before. My—my time hasn’t come.”
“Gali, if you’re pregnant, you can stay here with us,” Danimore said. “No one will take the babe from you.”
“What if I don’t want it? Sir Merrimont despised looking at me. Then, he’d abuse me when he was aroused by what he professed to hate.”
Pentanimir shook his head. “Yannick never despised you, Gali. He’s been like a brother to me all of my life, and had never spoken of anyone else so fondly, not even his wife. When he spoke about you, his face hid little of his desire. Mayhaps he didn’t wish to admit this, even to himself. His ill-treatment was because he loathed himself for that desire; mayhaps even love. It means little, but his heart was true, yet his circumstances demanded that he act to the contrary. Even though this child wouldn’t be from love or a promise, it’s a part of you. Yannick must’ve known of the possibility that you’d become pregnant, in fact, he probably wanted it.” He stepped forward, accepting those truths as he spoke them. “I’ve never known him to ever permit an attendant to sleep in his bed. Did he allow you this?”
“We were abed together, always.”
Pentanimir nodded, feeling a pang in his chest. That feeling stemmed from Gali’s pain as well as Yannick’s. Even after Oxilon’s influence, this part of the man remained unchanged. Yannick had several bastards throughout the lands, but this was different. He cared about Gali, and that realization could’ve been the cause of his recent actions. How such fervent emotion must’ve tortured him—to love a servant enough to desire a child. Never would he think Yannick capable of such profound feeling.
“This child would be yours, Gali, no one else’s. If you want to keep it, we’ll help you, but the decision is yours. Your father trained you well, and you know the herbs to use. If you truly wish to end the life inside of you, no one will hinder your effort.”
Offering a compassionate smile, he tugged the rope beside the door, summoning the steward.
“Liam will escort you to your suites. Dani, there’s a small chamber attached to yours that I’ve assigned to Zeta and Raithym. Ensure your doors are secured before taking rest. No one should disturb you. Gali, your room is farther down the corridor, but it’s your own. You and Zeta will attend our suites and help with the evening meal, nothing more. We’ve instructed the others that you are here for us alone, and they aren’t to attempt to order you. We must give the appearance of your servitude, even though this isn’t why you’re here.”
As he finished, Liam entered, bowing. “You have need of me, Caretaker?”
“Yes, escort my brother and our attendants to their suites. After doing so, ensure all the chests are in their proper place and the carriages stowed.”
“Yes, my Lord. Please follow me.”
Wosen
Draizeyn spit a bone from his mouth, glaring up at the three men. “What did that abomination say?”
“He sings a sweet song, Zaxson,” Yannick said. “He told about the village and those traitors far too easily. I barely had my cock halfway in his mouth before he told of it.”
“Yes, but you continued nonetheless, until he drank every drop of your seed,” Oxilon chuckled.
“With a sweet mouth like that one, no one could blame me. You trained him well,
Sir Benoist.”
“I don’t care about the pleasures of your cock, Yannick. What did he tell you?”
“Pardons, Zaxson,” Yannick said. “There’s indeed a village that lies beyond the wood. The savage says that he can lead us through safely to find it.”
“The Dessalonian Wood? Where we’re to build the new city?”
“The same,” Yannick said. “He says the path is hidden and only known by those who’ve traveled it. Our men could’ve walked directly over it and not known.”
“What about the builders harvesting trees?” Draizeyn asked, glancing at the men. “Could they find this path?”
“By his words, no. You would have to venture to the end of the wood where it’s the densest and the trees grow large. Only then are you near where you may enter. The village lies on the other side. He claims that there are hills and unseen drops, too. Not to mention the vast packs of jaenitu . It can’t even be seen from the Raphar and is partially shielded by the mountains.”
“There’s more,” Oxilon said. “After some persuasion with the bonding spike, he revealed several people in Noraa and one in Cazaal who know about the village. He doesn’t know the names of those in Noraa, but there’s a woman named Brahanu, who recently visited the village.”
“Brahanu?” Draizeyn repeated. “Why does this name ring familiar?”
“She’s the Caretaker’s daughter,” Oxilon said. “When we checked the scrolls, one by that name is listed as his eldest.”
Draizeyn’s brow raised. “Didn’t Pentanimir recently visit Cazaal?”
“He did,” Daracus said. “He wanted to introduce himself to the Caretaker and inform him about his new position.”
“Did you accompany him?”
“I have no interest in the humans. This was his duty as Caretaker. I remained in Spero.”
“What would you have of my nephew, Zaxson? Would you like him to take this Brahanu to the citadel for questioning?”
“Not as yet. It’s good that he knows her by sight. For now, we won’t make our knowledge of her treachery known. Have the village watched, and send a bird to Pentanimir on the morrow. Tell him what we’ve learned and have him send Danimore to further survey the village.”
“It will be so,” Oxilon said.
“What about the savage, Father? Should we continue his questioning?”
“No. Send him to Hushar. Have his wounds tended and treat him with herbs. We don’t want an infection from the spike as has happened in the past. Knowing the location of the village isn’t enough, he’ll guide us to it. After we find them, then, you may do with him as you please.”
“Yes, Father.” Daracus grinned.
A twinge erupted in Hushar’s stomach as she rushed to her cell, readying it for Wosen’s arrival. For several full moons, his screams had echoed through the corridors. She’d prayed fervently for him, muffling her ears as she sat helpless in her cell.
“Are you all right?” Jahno asked, stepping into the cell with a basket.
“No,” she said, wistfully. “What’s this?”
“These are the supplies you’ll need to tend his wounds. They’ll be extensive. The Zaxson wants him well and able to lead his guard. I’ll come after my duties and bring what else you might need.”
“Is his condition that grave?”
“It’s worse than anything I’ve seen, Hushar. Not even my abuse and Ceron’s combined could compare. Just please, don’t make your feelings known. Micah has already been beaten for less.”
“Micah? Has Ceron seen to him?”
“She has. Micah wasn’t alone in his feeling. Never have I seen such injuries.”
“Guardians help us all. Once your chores are done, I’ll need some more covers. If he’s to heal, he needs to be comfortable and warm. There’s barely enough in the basket to tend him. I’ll also need a few pails of hot water. Can’t clean wounds properly without it.”
“I’ll bring them as soon as I can. The Zaxson should—” Jahno gasped as the piercing cries echoed down the stairwell.
“Gods, is that him?” Hushar asked.
“It is, please heed my words: don’t react. Just tend him as you would anyone else. I’ll be back soon.”
When they neared her cell, Wosen’s screams were nearly unbearable. Although the slaves attempted to be gentle, the guards rushed forward, landing several blows.
“Stop your whinin’, savage! It’ll be my stick up your arse next!”
Hushar waved the men in, staggering back several steps as she looked down at Wosen. Raising a hand to her mouth, she stifled a scream, clenching her eyes shut.
Wosen looked more a creature than man: a thing of nightmares. Feasting insects wriggled in the open flesh beneath his right eye, causing her meal to rise in her throat. Hushar blanched, Wosen’s grotesquely misshapen face was unrecognizable, stained with blood and raised bruises. Never had she seen such damage, not even on a dead man, lying to rot.
The slaves’ scuffling feet caused her eyes to reopen. Wosen was alive, or at least he wasn’t wholly dead. The trickling blood from his mouth bubbled, a partial tooth sliding down his chin submerged in the thick liquid.
Wosen’s emaciated frame showed evidence of broken ribs, burns, small incisions, and deep gashes. Her retching urge returned, seeing more insects wriggling down his arm where the skin had been flayed. The thick nail used to collapse his testicle still hung from the mutilated flesh: festering and distended. Hushar bit back her emotion, her eyes widening when she noticed the blood-sodden cloth beneath him.
“Oh, young one,” she said, kneeling beside him. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Guardians be good.”
Stroking his matted hair, she winced, feeling the contusions beneath. “Can you hear me? My name’s Hushar, and I’m going to help you, I promise to help you. Can you speak?”
He nodded languidly, his face contorting in a rictus of pain. “K—kill me,” he breathed, between stuttered, shallow breaths.
Tears lined her eyes as she gently caressed his shoulder. “No, young one, no. I’m going to take care of you. You’ll be with me now, and I’ll care for you.”
“I have the water,” Jahno said, stepping back into the cell. “Surma wouldn’t allow me to heat it, but I have some old furs and cloth.”
“Thank you, I’ll make due,” she said, scooping some water up in a cup and moving back to the mattress. “You must drink, but slowly, very slowly.”
Partially lifting his head, Hushar poured water into Wosen’s open mouth. Although his throat was raw and the cool water caused the spaces in his mouth to ache, he drank it down quickly.
“There, now, you’ll have more, later. It’s not good to drink too much just now. I’ll need to clean you up so I can help you. There’s a lot of blood. Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”
Raising a trembling hand, Wosen pointed downward as tears poured from his eyes. Hushar turned, wiping away her own.
“You must stop this,” Jahno cautioned. “Clean your face, Hushar, please. The guard watches; you mustn’t do this.”
“Thank you, Jahno,” she said in the clearest tone that she could manage. “I’ll tend to him right away.”
Jahno glanced over his shoulder and then leaned forward, quickly pecking her cheek. “It’s all right, Hushar, he’ll be all right.”
After Jahno left the cell, she took a steadying breath, sitting next to Wosen.
“I’m going to mix a tincture of herbs for you. It’ll ease your pain, but you’ll sleep for a bit. While you rest, I’ll check your wound and stop the bleeding. I’ll remove the nail then, too. I’m not going to touch it until then. It’ll still ache after it’s tended, but the herbs should help with that. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Mixing the herbs, Hushar occasionally peered up at the guards. When they moved down the corridor, she poured water over the herbs, kneeling beside him again.
“This will taste a bit bitter, but it’ll soothe you. I need you to drink all of it,” Hushar said,
holding the bowl to his swollen lips. “Good, now I’ll tend to your other wounds and allow the herbs to work. It shouldn’t take long.”
She poured some water into the bowl, soaking a cloth. After wringing it, she began to clean the blood from his face and neck, causing Wosen to moan.
“Forgive me. I’ll tend those once you sleep. They’re deeper than I thought.”
Drizzling water over his hair, she gently combed her fingers through. She cringed, feeling the numerous gashes and contusions as she washed the blood away. Gods, he’s been to all seven hells. Please, Guardians, guide my hands and make him well.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Wo—Wosen.”
“How did you get to Nazil, Wosen? Are there others with you?”
His lips trembled as his tears returned. I murdered my father and abandoned my family to become a Chosen of Nazil…to have honor. Now I pray for death.
“No, no, no, shhh. I’m sorry. Just rest, Wosen, rest. Let the herbs take you,” she said, wanting to cry herself.
She stroked his swollen face, dabbing the wounds on his chest. When she soaked the cloth again, his ragged breathing was steady.
“Wosen?” she whispered.
When he didn’t respond, she carefully turned him on his side. Pouring water over his arse, she glimpsed the ripped and raw, gaping hole that was his anus. “Gods, how am I to mend such a wound?”
After rolling him on his stomach, she found tubing, thread, and needles in the basket. Rubbing an ointment around his opening, she inserted a tube filled with herbed water. When it could go no further, she blew hard, forcing the liquid into the battered cavity. She wiped her mouth, pouring more water over the area and then applied some healing ointment. Once the bleeding slowed, she began to close the wound, leaving the tube in place. Wosen twitched, feeling the poke of the needle, but he didn’t wake. With the wound sealed, she cleansed the area again. While he was yet turned, Hushar washed and treated his face, back and legs, then laid fresh cloth beneath him.
“There now, young one,” she said, laying him on his back. “I’ll wrap your ribs and mayhaps they’ll bring some clothes for you.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 46