He removed the bar from the door and then turned back around, meeting her wide eyes. “You must ask Arilian about the maiden’s tears . We certainly wouldn’t want our bastard to thwart your plans to marry the First Chosen,” he said, exiting the chamber.
Even though he had the pleasure of her maidenhead, he wasn’t pleased. At that moment, he realized what he’d felt had nothing to do with Denotra, and everything to do with his own feelings of inadequacy. He’d finally bested Pentanimir, but it wasn’t a victory, and his stomach soured at the thought.
Denotra’s face lost all coloring, staring at the door as if she expected something to emerge from it. When she considered what she’d done, she buried her face in her hands, weeping. Her tears increased, still feeling twinges of pleasure from Beilzen’s lovemaking.
“The maiden’s tears ,” she said, straining to stand. She gathered the soiled blankets, wiping herself clean, and trying desperately to control her emotions. After stuffing the covers beneath the bed, she straightened her hair and retied her laces. What have I done? she thought. He’ll pay for this. I’ll… Denotra stopped, her eyes frantically scanning the room. “I can’t let anyone know. Gods help me.”
She wiped her face again, taking a deep and steadying breath. Once she peered into the corridor, she silently rushed to her room, collapsing on the divan.
“Milady? You all right?” Ceron asked.
“I’m fine. My—my blood, it’s early. Heat water for a bath and fetch Hushar immediately.”
“Yes, milady,” Ceron said.
When the door closed, Denotra removed her gown, tossing it into the hearth. Once she glimpsed her reflection, she gasped, staring at the dark bruises on her arms and thighs. As she grabbed up her robe, a soft tapping came from the door. She covered herself quickly, lying across the bed.
“Come.”
“Milady,” Hushar said, apprehensively. “You have need of me?”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely audible. “I need the herbs, Hushar. No one else can know. The maiden’s tears , I need the maiden’s tears .”
Hushar nearly took a step back, her heartbeat quickening. “The—the tears? Yes—yes, milady. Do you need anything else?”
“Pain. My brother returns this night and he can’t know about any of this. Mix herbs for pain.”
“I’ll mix them immediately,” Hushar said, hurrying toward the door.
“Hushar. If anyone finds out about this, I’ll have your tongue ripped from your mouth, and watch while Symeon splits every one of your holes. Once I’ve had my fill, Oxilon will flay every speck of skin from your body,” Denotra said, reminding Hushar of the iniquitous woman she truly was.
“No one will know, milady.” Hushar closed the door, clenching her eyes shut. Denotra meant what she said, and she prayed that whoever she’d lain with would take that knowledge to their grave.
When Ceron and Leanta returned with the water, Denotra didn’t speak. She continued to stare at the steam rising from the water, thinking of her recent pleasure and the pain that could surely follow.
“Your bath is ‘bout ready,” Ceron said. “Would you like me to brush your hair?”
Denotra nodded, feeling the massage of the brush. She could only envisage Pentanimir then, and felt the ache of his absence. Had he been with her, this wouldn’t have happened. She couldn’t lose him…she wouldn’t.
“Your bath is ready,” Leanta said. “I put some oil in for you. Would you like refreshments?”
“No, leave me,” Denotra ordered. “I don’t want anything from you. Just send my guard to take their place and don’t return unless you’re summoned.”
Both women bowed to their mistress, relieved that they didn’t have to stay with her. The door had barely closed when she began crying again. Denotra cradled her bruised arm, wincing at the pain radiating from it. Never had anyone dared to place a hand upon her. Now, this, this she caused.
Denotra soaked in the hot water for nearly half a glass before Hushar returned. When she tried to push up in the tub, her arms weakened, and she fell back into the water.
“Gods!” Hushar rushed to her side, helping her from the tub. Wrapping her in a robe, she led Denotra over to her bed, fluffing the cushions behind her.
“Here, milady,” Hushar said, handing her the small, wooden cup. “Drink the tears while I tend your bruises.”
For a moment, Denotra only stared down into the cup. While swirling the liquid around, a look of bemusement crossed her face. “Such a small amount to achieve such a devastating end.”
“It’s the tears of all the young maids whose innocence was taken from them,” Hushar said, thinking of Zeta, Sarai, and Ceron in that moment. “Although their tears are endless, only a small amount falls into the cup and mixes with the herbs. Drink all of it, and have it done.”
Denotra drained the cup and handed it back to Hushar, lying across the bed. Hushar tossed it into the hearth, not turning until the flames consumed it.
“I need you to check between my legs, too,” Denotra said. “I’m still having pain.”
“Lie still, and I’ll see to it. Most women have a bit of pain at first, but the herbs and ointments will soothe you.”
Time seemed to stand still while she carefully tended her. When she was finished, Hushar wiped her hands, handing Denotra a small ewer.
“I mixed these for your pain, milady. The maiden’s tears needed time to settle before adding more to your stomach. You should only need it for a few suns, but sip from it often.”
Denotra managed a few swallows. After setting it on her side table, she thanked Hushar. She’d never expressed any gratitude toward the slaves, and Hushar pitied her then. Any woman, even the Zaxson’s daughter, was vulnerable.
“Would you like me to help you dress, milady? Evening meal was near ready when I came.”
“Yes. I’d like my jade and gold gown,” she said, standing and removing her robe.”
Once she’d dressed, Hushar began brushing her hair, and pinning it up out of her face. When the door opened, Denotra turned, her tears returning.
“Brother!” she said, rushing into his arms. “Thank the gods, you’re back! You’re back.”
“It’s good to see you so soon,” he said, returning the tight hug. “The battle wasn’t long, but it was tedious. I didn’t want to await the rest of the guard. I wanted you to know that I was all right.”
“I’ve missed you, Father, and Pentanimir. When will this end? When will Pentanimir be back with me?”
“We’ll speak about that and more, I promise. They were still battling in Kaleo and Cazaal stands nearly in ruin. I haven’t received a report from Pentanimir or Danimore.”
“But—”
“It’s too soon to worry. We have others who haven’t reported. It’ll take time. Pentanimir loves you, and he’ll be with you soon.”
Denotra nodded, accepting the kiss on her cheek.
“Hushar,” Daracus said. “There’re nearly seventy new slaves being transported to the cells. I need you and Micah to begin tending them immediately. Some of their injuries are severe, and I want them presentable before my father returns.”
“Yes, milord,” Hushar said, moving out the door. “Guardians help me.”
Tardison
Brahanu leaned against the tree, enjoying the warm breeze and scented air. Even with the conflicts in the lands and those still plaguing her heart, she focused on her blessings. At that thought, she gazed down at the babe suckling her breast, resting a hand on Eytan nestled at her side. Regardless of what they had yet to face, she wouldn’t lose sight of what was in front of her.
A soft yawn from Eytan caused her to giggle. He was so small compared to his brother, but it didn’t matter. The fact that he favored his father in every other aspect was heartening. She pictured him in Itai’s arms then, relishing that image in her mind. After learning about the difficulties during his birth, she loved Eytan even more.
“You’re a blessed child,” she whispered. “A
nd you are a most precious blessing.”
Looking at her other son, she repeated the same, leaning down for a kiss. His eyes fully opened and stared into hers.
“Tardison.”
She flinched, hearing the whisper in her ear as soft as fluttering butterfly wings. After glancing around, she shook her head, focusing on her sons again.
“Tardison.”
The sound was louder this time, accompanied by a chilling wind. Goose prickles raised on her arm and she cradled her son closer, lowering a hand back to Eytan.
“Tardison.”
Brahanu screamed as the misshapen shadow appeared, wrenching her son from her arms.
“No! No!” she yelled, unable to move from the tree. She lashed out wildly, trying to reclaim her son. “Help me! No!”
“Brahanu,” Julaybeim said, shaking her awake. “Brahanu, wake up, you’re having a dream-scare. Wake up.”
She continued to swing until the haze encompassing her mind cleared. Immediately, she looked down, ensuring that her sons were safe.
“Brahanu, are you all right?” Gali asked, dabbing at her face and neck.
“My sons…are my sons all right?”
“They’re fine,” Julaybeim said. “We’re concerned about you. What happened?”
“It was my sons,” Brahanu said, still flustered. “My sons.”
“What about them?” Danimore asked.
“Eytan was sleeping while I fed his brother. He—he opened his eyes and looked at me as surely as I was at him. I remember a cold, no, a chill and…and a shadow. A...a living shadow, whispering in my ear. It said a name, I think. ‘Tardison.’”
“Tardison?” Julaybeim and Danimore shared a look. “Are you certain about the name?”
“Yes, Brother. At first, I thought it was just a whisper of the wind, but when the shadow emerged, it spoke the name while stealing my son from my arms.”
“You’re still healing, Brahanu,” Gali said, handing her a cup. “This will help calm you.”
“Sister, this isn’t the first that we’ve heard this name. Considering it now, I doubt that it’s happenstance.”
Danimore nodded. “In Nazil, they speak of the Animus Wood as cursed by pythonesses, but your Elders believe otherwise. Either way, we must contend with whatever might dwell within these borders.”
“What happened?” Brahanu asked.
“We’re talking about the name,” Julaybeim said. “Danimore and I heard the same as you birthed him…when Gali cut him from you. We thought it was a whisper on the wind, too.”
“This makes no sense. My son’s name was chosen before he was born. How can the wind speak that which has already been decided?”
“No, it wasn’t, Brahanu,” Gali said. “Only one name was chosen, yet you bore two babes: one of Nazil, and the other of Cazaal. Only your son with Itai has been named. Mayhaps the whispers you hear are for the son of Nazil. Didn’t you say that these Elders spoke of him before you even knew you were pregnant?”
“They did, but he didn’t mention Eytan, only Pentanimir’s son. What does this mean?”
“It could mean nothing or everything,” Danimore said. “We’ve heard the name and not taken heed of it. Could this be some sort of message from the Elder’s visions?”
“Hushar used to talk about the woods, too,” Zeta said. “She believes there’re creatures here, blessed creatures with extraordinary power. Guardians, she called them. She said that they’re divine beings who protect the wood.”
“I don’t know much about Guardians, but the name is certain. Twice now, we’ve heard it, and I don’t believe in coincidence,” Danimore said.
“Tardison,” Brahanu said aloud, testing the sound of it. “It’s a handsome name, but how am I to know if it would be a blessing or a curse?”
“Sister, the choice is yours alone. It’s a fine name and suits him well.”
She picked up her son, studying his face. “You’re said to be of great importance. Even the wood comes alive in your presence. If such a force has watch over you, how can I ignore what they’ve spoken? This day, you’ll be called Tardison. Tardison Manifir Benoist, first of your name.” As she leaned down to kiss him, his eyes opened, staring into hers.
“Tardison Manifir Benoist,” Danimore repeated. “You honor our father, Brahanu. It’s a fine and honorable name. Pentanimir will be pleased.”
“He will,” Gali said. “It’s getting late, and we need to be ready to leave with the sun’s rise. I’ll finish the stew and pack what we don’t need.”
“I’ll help you,” Julaybeim said. “We’ll bring you back something to eat, Brahanu.”
Danimore slid closer to Brahanu, stroking Tardison’s balled fist. “Pentanimir wanted us to continue west. I hope that he’ll come soon, but we’ll need to leave on the morrow either way.”
“He’ll come.” She smiled. “He’ll want to see his son.”
“Yes, and you as well. My brother loves you more than anyone in these lands, Brahanu. No one has ever owned his heart, but you. When we were in Nazil, his only thoughts were of you and his son. I understand the depth of his love now, and I’m pleased that he has someone to share his heart.”
“I’ve loved him from the beginning. We both knew that it would be difficult, but our love remains.”
“Dani, Zeta is preparing a bowl for you,” Gali said, kneeling on the ground.
“And I’ll eat that one and another,” he said, leaving them to talk.
“Here you are, Brahanu, I know you must be hungry.”
“Thank you, I’m famished.”
“Birthing and nursing babes drain your strength. Zeta will assist whenever possible, but they need your breast.”
“I understand.” Brahanu took another bite, looking at Gali from the corner of her eye. A twinge of guilt erupted in the pit of her stomach, remembering how she’d spoken about her. “Gali, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for both my sons and me.”
“It’s why I came. This is where I was meant to be, and I’m thankful that I was able to assist. I’ve never experienced a birth like this. It was phenomenal.”
“Mayhaps the gods and Guardians led you here as well. If not for your skill, neither of my sons might’ve survived. You breathed life into Eytan when he lay limp in your arms. Julaybeim told me how you guided him from my womb, and shared your life with his. My husband and I both owe you more than we could ever repay,” she said, lowering her gaze. “I also ask your forgiveness for my failings and ignorance.”
“What?”
“I think you’re aware of how fond Julaybeim is of you. From what he says and his manner, he might be in love. I’ve never seen him with anyone else the way he is with you. It’s in his eyes, his smile, every part of him livens when you’re near. But when he asked me what I thought about your relationship, I didn’t speak favorably at first.”
Gali nodded. “It isn’t a failing to protect and guide those you love. I probably would’ve done much the same in your place. It isn’t an easy thing to accept someone like me.”
“I don’t profess to know what you’ve endured, Gali, and I’ll not minimalize it by saying that I understand. What I know is: whatever happened in Nazil isn’t who you are. They might’ve tried to destroy that person, but they only made you stronger, fortifying you with the resolve and wisdom many twice your age lack. I’d be honored to welcome you as my sister.”
“The honor would be mine. I—”
“Swords, Danimore,” Julaybeim said. “Someone approaches.”
“Zeta, take Raithym into the carriage,” Gali said, leaping up and drawing a dirk from her waist.
Danimore and Julaybeim unsheathed their swords, easing toward the approaching horse. Signaling with his hand, Danimore widened the distance between them, taking cover within the shadow of a tree. They stood motionless, listening as the hoof beats grew closer, and the whinnies that accompanied them.
“Now, Julaybeim,” Danimore said, leaping out with his sword at the ready
. The horse nickered, rearing back as its rider struggled to regain control.
“Brother!” A shaky voice screeched.
“Ameya?” Julaybeim gasped. “Is that you, Ameya?”
Julaybeim sheathed his sword, rushing forward as Pentanimir quieted Rajon.
“By the gods, it is you, Ameya,” Julaybeim reached up, drawing her down into a tight embrace.
“It’s good to see you, Brother,” Danimore said, wrapping Pentanimir in a crushing hug. “Much has happened.”
“For me as well, Dani. I have a lot to tell, but first, Ameya needs to eat and rest.”
“Brahanu needs to see you,” he said, meeting his eyes. “Brahanu and your son.”
Children of the Divine
The sun crested over the glistening peaks as Wosen tended the fire outside the cave. His pain was significantly less, and his mobility was better after Thalassa treated his wounds. He was thankful for the heavy furs she’d provided as he pulled them tighter, shielding himself from the chilling winds.
He paused, smiling as he thought about her. Thalassa was a mystery to him, and the more they spoke, the more intrigued he became. It was as if she was from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
He couldn’t deny his attraction to her either. He’d never seen a woman outfitted so, and the sight of Thalassa in her leathers aroused him even then. He hoped that after she learned more about him, she’d share more about herself.
Wosen grunted, gripping a large log, and dragging it near the fire. He didn’t understand why she’d assign him the task: the Dessalonians could lift such weight with their fingers. Even so, he wouldn’t complain. They’d surely saved his life, and he could never repay such a debt. In fact, he was honored just being allowed amongst them. That was an honor that he might not have recognized several full moons past. Being a captive in Nazil had sobered his mind and righted his heart.
As he neared the fire, a great rush of air nearly caused him to lose his footing. Wosen dived to the ground, and crawled toward the cave, struggling against the eddying wind. When shrill shrieks echoed off the peaks, he stood, dashing forward, and running into the cave. Thalassa was exiting, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her back inside.
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 62