“With pleasure, Caretaker.”
“Even though I believe sending a message to Nazil would be beneficial, I won’t do so at this time. The denizens of Kaleo aren’t to learn anything about what we’ve discussed. This information remains with the council and sentries.”
“Yes, Caretaker,” they said with scattered response.
“Thank you for your time. Please, leave me now to my thoughts.”
The men exited the hall after offering nods to the Caretaker. Nesdin stood and walked to the window, looking out over the small village. Many things had changed after Hyorin. Hordes of humans fled to Kaleo after their homes were destroyed. It took years to turn the fishing community into a thriving village. He thought much of the progress was due to the decisions that he’d made. After the Zaxson appointed him as Caretaker, he felt an obligation not only to the humans, but to Nazil as well. Was he in error?
“Come,” he said after hearing the soft tapping on the door. As his sons entered the room, he forced a smile, motioning to the table.
Chauncer was the elder of the two. When first he learned of the threat, he wanted to lock the gates and prepare for war. He leaned, awaiting his father’s words, but his brother spoke first.
“Father, what’s been decided? Will you make an announcement to the people?”
“That wouldn’t be wise, Aubry. Not only would it cause panic, it would alert the Nazilians visiting Kaleo.”
“Surely, we’ll shore up our defenses and begin drills,” Chauncer asked, sweeping the long, sable hair from his face.
Nesdin nodded. “If this threat is real, we must protect our people.”
“Will Mahati assign the sentries?”
“He’s the commander, Chauncer. No one knows the men better than he.”
“What about me?” Chauncer asked. “Don’t I have any say regarding the new assignments?”
“In different circumstances, you would. We need our most experienced men at the posts. For now, I’d have you and your brother remain close to the citadel.”
Chauncer stood in frustration. “This is fine for Aubry, his duties are here. I’m a sentry and need to be out protecting the village. Mahati doesn’t give me a proper opportunity to prove my skill.”
“Your opportunity will come, and too soon, I fear. If war comes to Kaleo, no one will be free from it. Don’t be so eager to welcome death, my son.”
Chauncer scoffed. “The only death will be delivered by my hand. You think too much of the Nazilians. They needn’t prove their power when we hand it to them freely. The humans have remained idle too long. If it’s a war that the ghosts of the east crave, they’ll have it.”
“Don’t be so quick to offer death, either, Chauncer. We remember the massacre of Hyorin well. It’d be best if you did the same.”
“I recall well the lessons taught, Father. How much resistance did they receive when they lit the homes on fire and slaughtered those who ran from them? Kaleo won’t be Hyorin. There’re no traitors among us to aid Nazil in their slaughter. When they come here, they’d better arrive as men, because they’ll be meeting the same. We’ll be ready, and all of Nazil will pay before the end of it.”
“I want to join the sentries, too,” Aubry said. “The Nazilians speak of honor, yet they’re planning another cowardly attack. If they’re such a great force, why don’t they openly declare war?”
Nesdin’s almond-shaped eyes briefly closed, listening to his son’s wisdom. Desiring favor from Draizeyn had clouded his mind to obvious truths.
“You’re right. Instead of joining with Cazaal and Noraa, I wanted to warn the very man who’d take my life without thought.” Nesdin sighed. “Chauncer, are their still Nazilians residing at the inn?”
“Yes. There are eight of them, Father,” he sneered. “They delight themselves with our women without Nazil’s eyes upon them. Not even a whore should be forced to lay with those soulless reprobates.”
“The whores only care about the coin in their pockets,” Aubry said. “They give no care who lies between their legs.”
“Even so, I want them watched,” Nesdin said. “I task the both of you with this. Is there one other that you can trust to do the same?”
“Yes. There’s one I trust with my life,” Chauncer said. “His name is Amare Yeondi. Many seasons ago, he lost most of his family to Nazilian pirates. Mahati recently promoted him as well.”
“Excellent. Have him join you and your brother. If there’s any move from Nazil, you’ll take these men immediately. I’d like them as prisoners, but if that isn’t possible, kill them where they stand.”
Myth and Legend
Wosen winced, making slow strides in their cell. Although his gait was still unsteady, he was able to walk without Hushar’s assistance. Most of his outer wounds were nearly healed, but the inner ones were more difficult to mend.
“Much better, young one, your stance has improved,” Hushar said. “I was worried that your ankles wouldn’t heal properly. It’s good that you’re able to bear your full weight.”
“It’s by your hand, Hushar.”
“Anyone could’ve tended your wounds. Had you been Nazilian, you would’ve received proper care.”
“If I were Nazilian, I wouldn’t have needed it, old mum,” he said, bending down to kiss her cheek.
Hushar looked up at him, smiling wistfully. That simple truth made her heart ache as she watched him stagger away. “You don’t want to overdo. I’ll need to check your bandages and make sure they’re fitting proper. Come now, let’s have a look.”
Wosen laid down on the mattress, watching as she tended him. He’d grown fond of Hushar during their time together. She and Jahno were the only sources of happiness for him now. Regardless of what he’d have to face, the time with them brought back a sense of purpose, and a sliver of humanity that had been lost in the dark chamber.
Hushar helped him realize many things, not only about himself, but also about what he could still accomplish. He loathed the thought of leaving her in Nazil, but his own freedom wasn’t guaranteed. He’d heed her words, and if the opportunity to flee arose, he’d take it.
No one knew the wood as well as he did, and he knew where to lead the Nazilians to offer the greatest cover for his escape. But with that escape came great risks. Wosen had never ventured far into the mountains, but for his freedom, he’d face whatever awaited him in those towering peaks.
“There, now. Is it too tight?” Hushar asked, patting his ankle.
“No, it feels good,” he said, attempting to rise.
“Not yet. I know you’re no longer comfortable with it, but I need to check your arse and groin.”
He sighed in protest. “It’s—it’s healed well and there’s only a little pain. My bowels are fine and the other…must you look?”
“I must. You didn’t see what they did to you, Wosen. I thought the wound on your arse alone would take you from me. That spike ripped up your insides and brought them without. It took all the gods and Guardians to heal such a wound. And if you’re still wanting your promise, I’ll need to check.” She smiled.
Standing pensively, he removed his tunic and then laid back upon the mattress. His thoughts were no longer on his nakedness, but on Hibret.
“They’ve taken that from me, too, old mum. If I see Hibret again, she wouldn’t have me. I look more a creature than her promised, and what they did to my manhood wouldn’t allow for sons or pleasures of any kind. It doesn’t respond anymore, and I have nothing to offer her.”
“You see, there’s redness,” she said, examining his wounds. “Mayhaps you’ve exercised enough this day. I’ll clean it now and apply some more ointment. Lie still and I’ll have it done.”
Wosen nodded, tucking his hands beneath his chin. When her cold hand touched his skin, he clenched up, and she gently spanked his cheek, causing him to chuckle. Not since his capture had he laughed aloud.
“Young one, don’t worry about your promise. If Hibret loves you the way you’ve said, these
scars will mean little. Now, turn over and I’ll check the other wound.”
He sighed, turning on his back, and closed his eyes as she lifted his manhood.
“Your children will come, Wosen.”
“No. They’ve taken both my seed and my desire.”
Hushar’s expression was forlorn as she glanced up and began massaging and stroking him tenderly. He jerked, his body responding immediately to her practiced touch. When he looked down, his face flushed, ashamed at being aroused by his old mum’s touch.
“You see,” she said. “With the lightest touch, your seed is ready. They only took one from you, Wosen. You have another, and many opportunities to know and love your promised.”
Wosen nodded, embarrassed, yet thankful, as he continued to look down until his manhood rested against his thigh again.
“Old mum, will they come for me now?”
“It’ll be soon. You just do as you’re told and don’t say anything that you’re not asked. Do what you need to, and don’t forget your purpose.”
“I love you, old mum,” he said, enfolding her into his arms.
“I love you, too,” she said, unable to keep the tears from her eyes. He reminded Hushar of her son, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Wosen as she had him. Although she’d never told Wosen about her son’s death, the pain of it was fresh in her heart each time she saw a Nazilian.
“You best cover yourself now,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want you catching a chill.”
“Is he the one?” a man asked, approaching the cell.
“Yes, Sir. That’s the abomination.”
Pulling Wosen closer, Hushar whispered, “You flee at first chance, young one. You hear me? Flee.”
He returned her embrace and then moved aside. If they were here to take him, he wouldn’t put Hushar in danger. He’d accept his fate, standing tall and showing no fear. He was a Neufmarche, and he’d honor his father’s memory by being the man that he’d raised him to be.
“Have that slave clean him up,” the man said. “He’ll not ride with me with that stench on him. Jahno will bring some fresh clothes as well. He’s to meet with the Zaxson, and will do so with the utmost respect.”
The man turned and was gone as quickly as he’d arrived. Neither of them had seen the likes of him before. But he elicited the same feeling in both of them. Fear.
“All right, you heard him. Get out of there and down to the bath chamber.”
Taking Wosen’s hand, Hushar led him from the room. As they walked the long corridor, few slaves were in their cells. Many were tending their duties for the citadel. The most unfortunate, like Jahno, Ceron, and Micah, were forced to live on the main level in service to the Zaxson’s family. Hushar didn’t mind the cells, in fact, she preferred them to being surrounded by Nazilians.
When they reached the end of the corridor, the guard scowled, stepping aside so they could pass. The dark, musty room had only three small tubs for all the slaves to use. For Hushar, it was merely once each seven suns. Wosen had never been allowed access to the chamber.
The moldy stench hung heavy in the humid air as billowing steam rose to the ceiling from the trench of heated water. Hushar examined each tub, checking which was fit for use. When she found one suitable, she grabbed a pail from the stand, filling it with water.
“You shouldn’t carry such weight, old mum,” Wosen said, lifting the pail from her hands.
His gait was still awkward, but he was able to complete the task. Motioning to the tub, Hushar picked up the brush and the little piece of soap. Wosen’s ragged tunic hit the floor, and he climbed into the tub.
“Is it soothing?”
Wosen nodded, sinking beneath the warm water. When he rose again, the large curls clung to his face.
“What will you say to the Zaxson?” she asked.
“I can only tell him the truth. Anything else would lead to more torture.”
“Well, it would seem speaking either caused that for you. There was no difference.”
“Mayhaps, but I can’t turn from it now. I only hope that my people’s fear of Nazil is great enough for them to leave the village.”
“Leave it? Where would they go?”
“Noraa would have them, but the Elders are wise enough not to move as one. They could spread out to the other human villages. Mayhaps the mountains could provide shelter for those like my sister until they could find a new home. Malkia looks Nazilian, and she’d have no place to go.”
“Hold your breath,” Hushar said, pushing his head under the water, and rinsing the soap from it. “The mountains? What have you heard about those said to live there?”
“Whatever might dwell in the mountains is preferable to dying at the Nazilians’ hands. Besides, we’ve never seen anyone when we ventured in the mountains.”
“Mayhaps, but you couldn’t have ventured too near their borders. The Dessalonians are said to be great creatures, Wosen. They aren’t human or Nazilian, but giants of men with powers we can’t even imagine. For thousands of years, they were protectors of the Guardians. It was their duty to keep the divine beings safe.”
“No one has ever seen such creatures, old mum. Moreover, why would any divine being need protection? Aren’t they gods?”
“In a manner. Still, gods have vulnerabilities. Not all are as invincible as you’d think. The Guardians are but seven beings, however, there are many said to live among them, hidden deep within the Animus Wood.”
“The wood?” he asked, turning toward her.
“Why do you think no one can live there? The Nazilians say that it’s a cursed place, but the opposite is true. I’ve been there myself, many times, my promised and me. The Animus Wood is a place of blessings. It’s stood before time was time. And that’s where the Dessalonians used to live.”
She dipped the brush in the water, gently scrubbing his skin.
“Why hasn’t anyone spoken about them?” Wosen asked.
“Many things are known throughout the lands, but the most important of them have either been forgotten or deliberately hidden. Men wish to have worship, young one. They forget that worship belongs to the gods alone. Instead, they place themselves in higher regard. This is why the Dessalonians were banished from the blessed wood.”
“Banished? By whom? If they’re as great as the myths tell, who could banish such a people?”
“Only the Guardians, or the gods, as you refer to them.”
“But why? Why banish those sworn to protect them?”
“Oh…now, that’s a truth well known to you. Power, young one, power.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Dessalonians are powerful beings who ride great beasts which they alone command. It’s said that some are winged creatures that soar over these lands, casting great shadows. It’s the old tongue they speak, the arcane Mehlonii language. When the Guardians rested, the Dessalonians kept them safe.”
“What kind of god needs rest?” he asked, standing in the tub.
“The Guardians have demiurges and others who keep watch over the lands. Even so, their sleep isn’t sleep as we know it. They’re always aware, existing here and in other places simultaneously. Only during the time of merging does their power decrease. It was at this time that the Dessalonians are believed to have attempted to take rule for themselves.”
Wosen sat back down in the tub, sliding beneath the water, rinsing the soap away.
“How do you know so much about these creatures? I’ve heard tales about them all of my life, but nothing like this.”
“I’m from a different time…a time when such things mattered. My mother taught me about the Guardians and Dessalonians as her mother did her. To some, they’ve become nothing but myth and legend. Believe your old mum’s words: they are as real as you or me.”
Holding up the tattered cloth, she helped him from the tub, drying him off and leading him to the bench.
“Don’t fear the mountains, Wosen. They might be the only protection
you’ll have against the Nazilians.”
Wosen’s brow knitted, regarding her seriously. He’d considered the mountains to be his only refuge if he could manage to escape. But the probabilities of his survival were grim. Offering a silent prayer, he gripped her hand. If Hushar spoke true, and the Guardians existed, he’d need their protection to see him to safety.
When he gazed across the bath chamber, the door was creaking open. His grip tightened on Hushar’s hand until he noticed Jahno entering the room.
“You look like a different person, Wosen,” Jahno said, closing the door behind him. “If not for Hushar, I’d have scarcely known you.”
“I’m glad to see you, Jahno,” Wosen said. “It’s been nearly a full moon.”
“The Nakshij has been demanding of late,” he said, handing some items to Wosen. “Lord Daracus gifted these to me. We looked to be the same size, so I selected some formal attire for your meeting with the Zaxson. I have a heavy cloak and some warm gloves, too. I’ll ensure you have them before taking leave.”
“Thank you, Jahno. Your kindness won’t be forgotten.”
Wosen couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn fine clothing. Though used, these were nicer than any that he’d owned. Wosen didn’t allow the thought of the previous owner to deter him. Daracus had visited him in the dark chamber, many times. His malevolence rivaled both Oxilon’s and Yannick’s combined. Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he donned the fine garb with a near perfect fit. He looked like a high lord rather than an abomination, and that thought caused more of his humanity to return.
“You look very handsome,” Hushar said, running the brush through his long, thick curls.
“Thank you, old mum.”
“When I take you to the Zaxson, you must be respectful,” Jahno said. “Upon entry into the solar, immediately take a knee to honor his position. Don’t rise until he’s given you leave to do so. When he speaks, don’t meet his eyes. Not only is this a sign of disrespect, but he’ll see the eyes of Nazil staring back at him. He already holds great disdain for you, Wosen. Please give him no further reason to harm you.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 53