The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “Don’t worry. I gave them detailed instructions. Zeta and I will leave soon and wait for them near the edge of the Ramah. Our carriage is prepared, and everything we need is within. They must move with purpose, Brother. We can’t linger.”

  “What about Julaybeim? Why did he decide to come?”

  “From what Itai said, Julaybeim asked to escort his sister. It wasn’t until then that Itai and Hacom agreed to Brahanu’s leave. Her husband is still reluctant, but having her away from the battle has eased his mind.” Danimore paused, laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Brahanu isn’t well; the babe drains all from her. She’s heavy with child now, and weak from the strain of it.”

  “I should be with her, Dani. The Elder told us about her struggle to bring forth our son. She suffers, and I can’t even provide proper protection for her.”

  “Didn’t the Elders tell you your son would be all right?”

  He sighed. “Yes, they did, but—”

  “No. That’s all that you need to remember. Itai has crafted a special cot for Brahanu in the carriage. She’ll be comfortable as they travel, and Gali is with them. She has many herbs, ointments, roots, and supplies. If the babe needs to be birthed, we know that Gali can bring him forth. Don’t worry, Pentanimir. We’ll take the greatest care of Brahanu and your son. You need to focus on your task. Draizeyn will attack the villages in three rises of the sun. Three. It could take that long for us to traverse the beginning of Black Boulder Pass. You’re charged with leading the attack on Cazaal. What will you do?”

  “I’ll do as I’m commanded. They’ve been warned of the day. It’s for the Caretaker to defend his people. I’ll harm no one unless it’s necessary to do so. Still, I must lead the guard to them. Uncle will look for me as he approaches from Depero Wood. It’s imperative that they report favorably to the Zaxson.”

  “Are you certain that I won’t be missed?”

  “Yes, I’ll tell them about your reconnaissance ahead of the guard. It’ll appear as if you’re leading us to the village. No one will know your location, but I’ll act as if I do. Your lead will be essential to our attack on Cazaal.”

  “As you say, Brother. I trust your word and will do as you bid.”

  “Good, Dani. We’ll be safe within the wood soon.”

  “Pentanimir, what’re we supposed to find there?”

  “Peace. The Bandarians make their way as well, but their travel will be slow. They move with everyone in their village. You have but two carriages to tend. With the lands at war, your travel should go unnoticed. After Brahanu’s carriage joins yours, venture to the farthest reach of the wood. Continue west. I’ll find you.”

  “How will you escape the battle? Uncle will be aware of you at all times.”

  “Uncle needs to stay clear of my path. I don’t want to harm any Nazilians, but if I meet him in battle, it may not be so,” he said, thinking of what Temian revealed. “Besides, when in battle, you scarcely check the position of your allies, it’s your enemy who draws your focus.”

  “Surely, if you’re seen fleeing, he’ll subdue you.”

  “No. I have plans to take Amani and Ameya captive. The Caretaker’s family is the first to become hostages. When I accomplish this, I’ll announce that I’m securing them in Spero. My absence will be with good cause. I would’ve fulfilled my obligation to lead my men, and secure Brahanu’s family.”

  “What happens when you don’t arrive in Spero?”

  “It’s of no matter. We’ll be in the Animus Wood, and Draizeyn will think us lost.”

  “You’re more important to him than the rest of the guard. You’re pledged to his daughter. What about Denotra?”

  Pentanimir scoffed. “Mayhaps Beilzen could take the wretch to wife.”

  The brothers snickered at the thought. The respite was much needed, yet short lived. The reality of the coming danger was heavy on their minds. Although their plan appeared to be flawless, the smallest error could be detrimental. If they were discovered, their fates would be as Wosen’s, even worse.

  “Did Itai mention anything about Noraa or Kaleo?” Pentanimir asked, moving the purple fabric Danimore had given him between his fingers.

  “He did. Both Caretakers have readied the villages for the pending attack. If all goes well, the Nazilians will be forced back to Nazil without the shedding of much blood.”

  “That’s my hope, but Daracus and Yannick won’t retreat easily. They have the full force of Nazil and all the surrounding villages and outposts. When the homes are set ablaze, much death will follow.”

  “Pentanimir, you’ve done everything you could to lessen the carnage. You are but one person. The son of Hosdaq brought this war down upon us.”

  “Wosen might’ve been the catalyst, but Draizeyn has envisaged this for some time. If it were merely Wosen, Draizeyn would only attack Bandari. Instead, he’s waged a war on the humans. No, I’ll not blame Wosen for more than he’s responsible. Mayhaps my presence in Bandari was part of this. He looked to me with respect, Brother. My position as First Chosen was something Wosen coveted. I should’ve been more forceful with him from the beginning. However, it pleased me that he thought well of his people. I couldn’t have known that he’d betray his family and his father.”

  Danimore watched as he continued to work the fabric between his fingers.

  “You can’t place the blame at your feet either, Pentanimir. The people in Bandari should’ve dissuaded him from such folly. The failure wasn’t yours.”

  “As you say,” Pentanimir said, pensively, tying the fabric around his arm.

  “Why did Brahanu send this for you?”

  “It’s the ribbon she wore in her hair upon my first visit to Cazaal. I’ll wear it as I go into battle. By this, the Cazaalians will know me from the others.”

  “Itai mentioned something else,” Danimore said. “Hacom has asked anyone unable to fight to take a ship south. He’d have them remain until the battle’s end.”

  “The plan is sound, and would lessen their casualties. Are they going to heed his words?”

  “It’s unknown. Many will remain for fear of the sea. They would rather face Nazil, which is known to them, than the open sea, which is not.”

  “I hope that more fear Nazil than the sea. What’s your plan?”

  “Soon, I’ll call for the horses to be worked in the yard. When the men leave the stable, I’ll send Zeta and Raithym to the carriage. After I’m satisfied that it’s safe, I’ll move toward the meeting place. I’ll leave the satchel for you as we planned. It’ll be dangerous, but with the men training and preparing the horses, no one should notice my leave.”

  “Be careful and make haste,” Pentanimir said, embracing his brother. “Keep them all safe. It’s good that the young lord will accompany you. Having another sword will serve you well.”

  “I hope we’ll have no cause to draw them.”

  “As do I.”

  Pentanimir watched as his brother left his chamber, knowing that he mightn’t ever see him again. He trusted the gods to deliver them safely to the Bandarians. It was only there the hands of Nazil would not reach them.

  “Gods keep them safe,” he whispered, clutching the fabric around his arm.

  Encroachment

  “You want his legs bound, too, Zaxson?”

  Draizeyn craned around, glaring. “How’s he supposed to walk or mount a horse in irons, you fool? Only his wrists need to be bound.”

  “Yes, sir, Zaxson,” the man said, hurrying from the chamber.

  “Remind me to have that yaldson flogged when we return,” Draizeyn said, lifting his arms while his breastplate was adjusted.

  Yannick laughed, taking a long drink from his cup.

  “Father, the savage mentioned traps and platforms hidden in the trees. Can we trust that he’ll not lead you toward them?”

  “Daracus, the only thing that I trust is this,” Draizeyn said, holding his Xtabyren aloft.

  The men stood, bowing, as his steward attached his
pearl and gold cloak about his shoulders.

  “Daracus, you’ll ride in the carriage with me. Oxilon and Yannick will take the second, and Gudrun and Erandi the last.”

  “Where will the savage ride, Zaxson?” Erandi asked.

  “Ride? He’ll be tied to the rear of your carriage. Have guards positioned closely behind. We don’t want him injured before we reach the village. After we have what we seek, do with him as you will.”

  Draizeyn made for the door, as his guards fell in behind. The men strode down the long, stone corridor, their right hand pressed firmly against their chest.

  As they approached the citadel entrance, Wosen stood between Jahno and a guard, awaiting the Zaxson. The ictus of his heart increased, watching the Zaxson advancing. Wosen took a steadying breath, forcing his shoulders back. He could hear whispers from the surrounding guards, but he kept his father’s words in his mind, repeating them until they drowned out everything else.

  When they were but strides away, Wosen lowered his gaze, bending his knee. The constant click…click…click… from their boots reverberated, distorting the sounds around him. Once he stood again, Jahno rested a hand on his shoulder, noticing the trembling that Wosen couldn’t suppress. That simple gesture was enlivening, bringing back some semblance of hope where all else appeared despairing. Standing in the vestibule of the Nazilian citadel, there was one that he called friend.

  “Move yer arse, savage,” a guard said, shoving Wosen forward. As he stumbled, Hushar’s words replayed in his mind. His old mum had done her best to prepare him for what was to come. But could he ever truly be prepared for what awaited him? If he survived this trek, escaping into the mountains would be arduous. Taking another sobering breath, he stepped out onto the stairs.

  Wosen’s eyes widened, gazing out over the white city. This was the first time that he’d seen it in all its glory. Father’s words didn’t do the city justice , he thought, staring at the magnificent home that his father once loved.

  The temple stood near, with the commanding stone statues of the Nazil gods. They towered over all in the city with their fierce faces and intimidating stance, casting great shadows over the gathering crowd. Even with their ferocity, the temple was the most exquisite edifice that he’d ever seen. His mouth nearly gaped, looking at the white city’s grandeur as he descended the marble steps. It had been long since he desired to experience the wonders of Nazil. Though he found the city beautiful, Wosen yearned for the true beauty of his village.

  A faint sun lit the orange and pink streaked sky as the carriages moved from the citadel. The air was full of the sweet smell of hickory from the fires of the Kadul that had burned throughout the night. The men tended the flames of the ceremonial pit, striking a tocsin that seemed more a menacing, pulsating heart than a pronouncement of the Zaxson’s coming. The Kadul’s fires would burn until the heroes of Nazil returned.

  Murmuring voices swelled as the leader’s carriages rolled toward the city’s center. One after another, families emerged, their voices rising in a crescendo. With seamless precision, they began chanting the name of their Zaxson. From every corner, the name “Draizeyn” echoed off the hard marble surfaces and white stone buildings.

  Upon seeing the regal headpieces of the Cha, the crowd began to divide, their voices lowering in reverence. Each of the enrobed men of the Brotherhood harmonized passages from their holy book of Sulos . As they ambled through the crowd toward the platform, the Nazilians bowed in respect.

  Fathers hoisted their sons upon their shoulders in hopes of getting a glimpse of their leader. Draizeyn emerged, riding haughtily through the multitude: his head raised high with his right hand firmly pressed against his chest. He didn’t look right or left, his carriage advancing him through the crowd. Flowers of admiration cushioned the steed’s clopping hooves as it cantered by. Daracus stood proudly at his father’s side, marveling at the crowd’s adoration. Such a noble stance , he thought, envisioning the day he’d stand in his father’s place.

  One by one, the carriages progressed through the extoling crowd, shouting sentiments of honor and veneration. It wasn’t until Wosen came into view did the jeers and insults begin. Wosen groaned, feeling jabs and punches as he struggled to keep pace with the horses.

  The Nazilians roared when Draizeyn and Daracus mounted the platform. Glancing over at his son, Draizeyn grinned, raising a hand to silence the crowd.

  “My good people of Nazil, the time has come to purge our lands and make Faélondul great once more. The humans have infested our lands and corrupted the decency and morality that we’ve cultivated over these many years. We founded and enriched these lands into a viable and peaceful home for Nazilians. The humans were permitted to inhabit these lands merely through the kindness of our people. Now they’ve abused the privileges that we’ve so mercifully granted to them. They’ve committed the most egregious of offenses. They’ve taken what’s pure, sacrosanct, and preeminent, our blood, and infested it with theirs. They are savages!” Draizeyn paused, relishing the eruption of angered shouts.

  “The savages are animals, robbing and stealing from Nazilians who’ve worked the land, and built up Faélondul from ash. This land belongs to all of you, and we’ll not allow them one more sun’s rise to destroy what’s rightfully yours.

  “The humans ravish and abduct our women, forcing them to become slaves to their barbaric and sadistic desires. Our once maiden daughters, sisters, and nieces are forced to bear their children. Rather they be slaughtered than adulterated with the filth of a human. These children are abominations: diseased mongrels contaminating the purity of Faélondul. They must ALL be destroyed! This genocidal attempt won’t go unanswered.”

  The furious uproar from the crowd fueled his ravening ego. Men raised their swords as the denizens sang praises for their Zaxson and home.

  “Their conspiracy isn’t unknown to me,” the Zaxson continued in an orotund voice. “They are attempting to weaken us by infusing the young with their blood. They steal our women to hinder the procreation of our people, the rightful rulers of the lands. It stops this day! I, Draizeyn Deaglan Vereux, have been called by the gods themselves to dispose of this threat. I will lead our elite Chosen Guard to vanquish this evil and destroy it!”

  With that proclamation, the Nazilians began screaming his name again. Draizeyn stood tall with his Xtabyren raised to the heavens, allowing the praise of the crowd to wash over him.

  They exited the platform with their swords still raised. As they strode through the crowd, the people stretched out their hands, attempting to touch their leader. He returned to his carriage, addressing his guard. “Today, we will make these traitors understand what it means to be Nazilian!”

  The spirited chanting continued as the gates of the city closed behind them. Draizeyn scrutinized his men, exiting his carriage. The golden armor and pearl cloaks of the Chosen glinted majestically in the sun’s light. It had been long since his men stood before him so adorned.

  The archers and foot soldiers donned their silver armor and black cloaks. Thousands stood at attention with their liveries standing in contrast against the white gates of the city. Draizeyn gave an approving nod, mounting his massive destrier.

  “Put him on a rouncy, and attach the rope to my saddle,” he ordered, gesturing to Wosen.

  The men led the old worker horse forward, helping Wosen to mount. There was no saddle or reins, only a long rope that tethered him to the Zaxson.

  I’ll have to flee on foot. They’ve thought of everything to keep me from my purpose, Wosen thought, attempting to gain comfort on the horse’s bowed back.

  Two of the guard fell in on either side of him as the ranks closed in.

  “Daracus, you’re to send word to Nazil when you’ve reached Mahlum,” Draizeyn said, looking over his soldiers. “You’re all to do the same. The guards stationed at the outposts have taken their positions. In three suns, as Faélondul awakens, make these lands bleed!” he shouted, kicking his heels into his horse.


  Wosen winced, bouncing over the rocky, barren trail. They’d been traveling for two suns, and he could barely sit upright, leaning and hugging the horse’s neck to relieve the throb of his arse.

  Their pace was slow, traversing the hidden pass between the covered knolls. Stopping only to rest and water their horses, the men trekked on, following the commands of their leader. Once the wood enveloped the winding trails, tensions rose with the crescendoing howls of the jaenitu resonating around them. As the sun diminished, Wosen was shackled to a tree as slaves erected the tents and prepared the evening meal.

  Draizeyn’s cupbearer, a boy no more than five or six years old, came to Wosen, bringing bread and water. The young boy sat, staring as Wosen struggled to feed himself while heavily chained.

  “What’s your name?” Wosen asked, tearing off a piece of hard bread.

  At first, the boy didn’t answer. He continued to stare at the strange man with the pale eyes. He hadn’t ever seen anyone like Wosen. Only Nazilians had such eyes, but Wosen wasn’t one of them. The hue of his skin and his light brown curls confused the young boy. When Wosen tore off a large piece of bread and handed it to him, the boy brightened, taking it happily.

  “I’m called bastard,” he finally said, tearing into the bread.

  “Bastard? What sort of name is that for a young boy?”

  “The only one I got.” He shrugged, unaffected by the meaning that lay beneath.

  Wosen handed him the water, allowing him to drink his fill. He looked at the boy, trying to perceive any Nazilian heritage. With straight, sandy-colored hair, sun-kissed skin, and green eyes, he looked human. However, appearance alone meant little. All the children of Bandari had different features.

  “Who’s your mother?” Wosen asked.

  “She was a slave at the cit’del, but I don’t ‘member her,” he said, staring down at Wosen’s bread. He tore off another piece, handing it to the slight boy.

  “Don’t they feed you in the Zaxson’s tent?” Wosen smiled, close-mouthed.