“Well, I’ll ensure that you’re bathed and oiled before joining me this very night. I’m not my father, Sarai. My needs aren’t so easily sated.”
“Yes, milord.”
“Now, is that all you have to report about the Animus Wood,” Daracus asked, calming the rise in his trousers.
Gerhma looked up apprehensively. “Them women sent a warnin’.”
“A warning?”
“Weren’t like nothin’ I’ve known. It—it was a shadow, and a—a voice. I tried to run, but couldn’t get away from it.”
“Speak plainly, or I’ll continue my questions in the dark chamber. Trust me: Sir Merrimont’s methods aren’t nearly as pleasant as mine.”
“Yes, Sir. They said that they’s comin’…them giants and beasts is comin’. If’n we don’t fight, they’ll be sparin’ us. But—”
“But what!”
Gerhma flinched, shrinking back. “If’n we resist, they’ll destroy us.”
Daracus leapt up, pounding a fist on the table. “A threat! They dare threaten the Nazilians? I’ll kill them where they stand!”
The slaves lowered to their knees as Daracus rushed to the door.
“Take the men to the cells and summon the council. I don’t want anyone speaking to the slaves without my permission. Take the wench to a servant chamber and have Ceron attend her. I have more intimate questions for that one.”
As the doors closed, Daracus placed another pellet beneath his tongue.
“If it’s death they want, I’ll bring it to them.”
Vows
The Bandarians cheered as Hibret and Wosen handed the empty cup back to Nzuri. Taking Hibret’s hand, Wosen leaned down, gently touching his lips to hers. Tears welled in her eyes as he looked at her, overcome by the love and forgiveness he saw in them.
“You are now released to your home to continue your bond.” Nzuri smiled, handing the cloth to Wosen. “Let no one disturb this very blessed day.”
Hosdaq quickly embraced them, as they turned and faced the crowd. “I can’t express the joy I feel at witnessing your bond.”
“And having you home with me,” Malkia said, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Wosen chuckled, returning the tight embrace, and then leaned down to kiss Malkia. “I never want to be without you again, little one.”
“Now, let us lead the new couple to their shelter,” Vot said.
The Bandarians had worked the entire day to complete the shelter before their bonding. It was more a hastily constructed whare, with two framed rooms divided by a curtain and an entry door. The accommodation didn’t matter to them, only that they’d be sharing it together.
“It’s wonderful to see them so happy,” Brahanu whispered to Pentanimir.
“Indeed. They’ve spoken of nothing else for seasons. I’m glad that Wosen is amongst his people again.”
“But for how long? Isn’t he leaving the wood soon?”
“He is, and many more as well,” he said, interlacing their fingers. “We’ll meet with the Elders later to discuss what’s soon to come.”
Brahanu nodded as the procession came to a halt. The crowd dispersed, still celebrating after they’d entered their home to complete the bond.
Wosen sat on the lone chair in the room, watching Hibret remove the ribbon from her hair. He smiled as she released her curls, smoothing them down around her shoulders.
“I’ve always loved your hair, Hibret. The sweet oils would glisten in the sunlight when we took our walks along the shore.”
“I recall one such day when you said that you had a surprise for me,” she said, sitting on his lap. “When I closed my eyes to receive it, I felt your lips on mine.”
“Were you not surprised?”
“I was. Tell me: is a stolen kiss more pleasurable than one offered freely?” she asked, placing her lips on his. Wosen drew her nearer, enjoying the feel of her arms around him. It had been too long, and he held her tighter, ensuring this wasn’t a dream. He had visions of the same in Nazil, only to awaken in misery. Not this night. His breathing grew heavy as her hands searched his body, causing his desire to rise. He lost himself in that feeling, until her tongue slid into his mouth.
Wosen’s eyes blinked open, pushing Hibret from his lap. Raising a hand to his lips, he leapt up from the chair, repeatedly wiping his mouth.
“Wosen, what’s wrong?” Hibret asked. She wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his back. “What did I do?”
Wosen fought to keep the memories from his mind, but the images, voices, and the pain continued. He shook his head, going back to his chair. “You—you didn’t do anything wrong, Hibret, you never have. I thought being free from Nazil, and back with you…I hoped that I could…that we…” He sighed, shaking his head again. “I’m not free from them. I feel your touch, and it’s their faces, all of them flood my mind as if I were still chained in their cells. What they did to me, all of it takes the joy from us now. I desire your touch,” he said, looking up at her. “I love you more than anyone, but I can’t remove them from my mind. If you knew what they did to me, you’d understand.”
He wiped his mouth again, needing to erase the lingering memories of the taste of bile and seed from it. When he recalled their abuse, he nearly retched: the smells and saltiness assailing him now as it did then. Wosen rushed to the table, lifting the small cruse of wine and draining it.
“Wosen, I don’t know what happened in Nazil, and I won’t have you suffer the memory,” she said, hugging him again. “I’m here for you, my love. We don’t have to do anything but be together. I prayed to have you with me, and I’m grateful for that alone. That’s a greater pleasure for me than any other thing. I can wait as long as you need.”
He shook his head, pushing away. “You shouldn’t have to wait. We’re married now, Hibret, and have dreamt of this night together. I—I just can’t remove it from my mind. I’ll never be the man that you fell in love with again. They’ve ruined me: my mind, my body, everything. You’d be sickened if you saw me.”
Hibret stared at him for a few moments, feeling his pain as if it was her own. The anguish in his eyes nearly caused tears to fall from hers. She took a step back, reaching for her laces.
“If you’re plagued with visions of Nazil, mayhaps replacing them with something more pleasing would aid in your healing,” she said, sliding her dress and skirts to the floor. She didn’t turn from him as she stepped from her slippers, and then slowly removed her stockings.
Wosen licked the dryness from his lips, memorizing every alluring curve of her body. She was more beautiful than he’d imagined. His mouth opened, but he couldn’t speak, not now. He reached out to her, feeling the softness of her flawless skin. After cupping one of her breasts, his thumb gently caressed a nipple before sliding his fingertips down her stomach to the wisps of curly hair beneath. Hibret’s eyes closed as he continued the pleasurable movements.
“I’ve always dreamt of your taste,” he said, bringing a finger to his mouth, inhaling her sweet scent, and then licking the remains from it. “I want to please you, Hibret, more than you know. I just—”
“Look at me, Wosen, and remember what you see. This is all that matters now. If this is what you want, make me know it,” Hibret said, pulling him in for a kiss.
He closed his eyes again, returning her affections and sliding his hands down the curve of her back. His arousal was immediate as he moaned, cupping her arse, and bringing her tighter against him. As her tongue encircled his, Wosen froze, almost moving away. But she held onto him, whispering, “I love you,” against his lips.
His tears nearly came then, fighting against the barrage of images besetting his mind. Please gods , he prayed, feeling her squeeze him tighter.
“Wosen,” she breathed, continuing the kiss.
When his throb increased, he pushed away, not allowing her to approach. “No, please. If your longing is as strong as mine, I need to show you what they did to me. Once you’ve seen it, you migh
t be of a different mind.” Wosen’s voice trembled through each word as he removed his boots and trousers, exposing the mutilated flesh beneath.
“That isn’t the worst of it,” he said, unclasping his tunic. He didn’t meet her eyes, but the gasp and soft cries that followed confirmed what he’d feared.
“You deserve more than I could ever give you, Hibret. I’ve ruined not only myself, but our future as well.”
She couldn’t respond, wiping her tears as she stepped closer. When he tried to replace his tunic, she took it from his hands, tossing it to the floor. Her eyes moved over his body as her fingertips rested on his chest. His breaths stopped, feeling her hands gliding across his body, her fingertips nestling in each groove, and caressing every scab and scar.
“I’m sorry, Wosen,” she said, barely over a whisper. “Your suffering was greater than anyone could’ve imagined.” Her lips gently kissed his, and then moved down his neck, to his chest, kissing each scar. As she kissed up to his lips again, she smiled wistfully, taking his hand.
“My heart aches at what you’ve endured, but I refuse to permit Nazil a place in this chamber. These scars don’t alter the love I have for you,” she said, bringing his hand towards her. “My body craves your touch, husband, and I need you to be a part of me.”
Without another word, she led him to their bed, lying in its center. Wosen stared at her, filled with the warmth of her love and visions of her beauty. Images of Nazil diminished, and only his wife remained.
As he enjoyed her breasts, a hand slid down her abdomen. Hibret’s subsequent moans drowned out the words of the Zaxson, the guards, all of them. Wosen relished the taste and feel of his wife, not removing his hand until her satisfaction was obvious. He met her eyes then, moving over her. She continued to twitch as he saturated himself in her essence. “I love you,” he said, kissing her, and joining them as one.
Hibret gasped, clutching his back and pulling him in closer. When her legs enwrapped his waist, he shuddered, unable to control the release.
“Hibret,” he said, breathlessly. “I—I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold it.”
“It wasn’t meant for you to hold. It was meant for our children and me.”
“Are you going to take evening meal, Pentanimir?” Brahanu asked, once they were alone.
“I’m not hungry. Mayhaps I’ll sit near the eternal fire and enjoy the peace of the wood. There’s too much on my mind.”
She glanced up at him, lifting Eytan to her shoulder. “Will you wait here for a moment?”
When he nodded, Brahanu hurried into the partial hall.
Pentanimir admired the beauty of the wood, attempting to sort through the conflicting thoughts and emotions inundating him. Although he portrayed a placid demeanor, the recent events and coming obligations weighed heavily upon them.
“Pentanimir?” Brahanu said, taking his hand. “Where’s your mind?”
He smiled pensively, gaining strength from not only her touch, but also the loving look in her eyes. “My mind was on many things, but you’ve changed its direction. “Did you need me?” he asked, when she began walking toward the carriages.
“When haven’t I needed you?” She smiled. “It’s been too long since we’ve had any time alone, Pentanimir. I don’t want to be apart from you now, but I understand if you’d rather be alone. If you’re leaving for Nazil, I don’t want to waste another moment with you.”
“No, Brahanu, I’ve missed having you with me,” he said, helping her inside the carriage. Not since their time in Cazaal had they truly been alone. As much as he wanted their closeness, he feared it, too. His love had only grown, and being apart from her intensified the emotion. As he stared into her eyes, the love exuded from them, taking all else from his mind.
Brahanu reached for his other hand, pulling him to her as she lowered on the cot.
“Brahanu—”
Her kiss silenced him, igniting every receptor in his body. He gave into that feeling, returning her kiss with equal fervor.
“Pentanimir,” she said. “I don’t want to lose you. There’s been enough loss in these lands and my heart can’t bear another. I need to feel you inside of me and awaken my body as you have my heart.”
“I’ve always been yours, since first you came to me, it’s always been you,” he said, fumbling with his laces in the dim light.
“Promise me that I’ll be your wife. I don’t care if you’re in Nazil, I want only you.”
“I promise, Brahanu,” he moaned, sliding into the warmth of her body. “I’m yours alone.”
Reckoning
Lymbach and Reaglen jumped as the Chosen pushed through the temple’s doors. They paused, glancing around the sanctuary, scrutinizing the atoners. When Yannick motioned to his men, approaching another door, the Cha immediately blocked their path.
“Good morrow, Sir Merrimont, may we be of assistance?” Reaglen asked.
Yannick didn’t respond, pushing past and continuing down the corridor.
Lymbach and Reaglen exchanged uneasy glances, trailing behind them.
“Only those authorized are allowed beyond the temple sanctuary, Second Chosen. May I ask your business?” Lymbach said.
“My business is my own, Cha. I’m on an errand for the Zaxson.”
“Of—of course, Sir Merrimont,” Reaglen stammered. “We don’t mean to hinder you. If you could tell us of your duty, mayhaps we can assist and bring it to an end.”
“Where’s Beilzen.”
“Beilzen? He returned recently and in great haste. Wasn’t he with you at the citadel?”
“I didn’t ask from where he came, old man, I asked where he is.”
“Yes, yes, Beilzen is in his chamber.” Reaglen pointed. “The third door on the left.”
Yannick gestured to his men, moving forward. When they reached the door, he kicked it open.
Beilzen screamed, stumbling against the wall as the items he held crashed to the floor with a resonating clamor. Yannick glared at him, sweeping his eyes over the room until noticing a haversack on the bed, stuffed with clothing and personal items. There was a second one on the floor, only partially filled.
Beilzen’s face lost all coloring as Yannick stepped toward him. He picked up the bag, riffling through the hastily packed items. As he pulled each piece from inside, he flashed Beilzen an icy glare.
Beads of sweat dotted Beilzen’s brow, looking at the guards towering over him. His heart raced, fearing why they’d come, and cursing himself for returning to the temple. Glancing around the small room again, Beilzen silently prayed, looking for any means of escape.
“Were you planning a trip, son of Perrin?” Yannick asked with his deep and intimidating voice.
“A—a trip? No, I mean, yes—yes. I was only traveling to Yarah. We—we have family there, and I thought to pay a visit.”
“With the lands in such turmoil and our Zaxson’s death, you’re planning a holiday?” Yannick asked, still removing items from the bag.
Beilzen could barely breathe, searching the recesses of his mind for a response. “It—I would only be away for three suns. Most of my family is—is in Yarah, and I wanted to ensure that they were safe and unharmed. With—with the recent hostilities, my father and I are concerned about them.”
At that, Yannick paused. He dropped the empty bag on the floor, turning to regard the quivering man. “Unharmed? It’s interesting that you’d choose that particular word, caitiff.”
When Yannick reached for him, Beilzen lunged for the door, only to feel the agony of one of the guard’s knees. He screamed, thudding to the floor and grasping his chest.
“He sounds like a woman,” a guard laughed.
“He’ll know what it feels like to be one before I’ve finished with him,” Yannick said.
“No!” Beilzen shouted, scrambling to his feet. His eyes darted back and forth, wildly swinging his fist, trying to fight his way to the door.
Immediate laughter followed as the guards took turns slapping him. When one
guard landed a hard punch, Beilzen cried out, slamming against the wall before crumpling on the ground.
“Enough,” Yannick said. “The Zaxson wants him conscious. You’ll have ample opportunity to make this one squeal.”
“Please, no, wait, please,” Beilzen pleaded. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Please! It wasn’t me!”
“Save it, caitiff. The Zaxson wants your words, I only await your blood.” Yannick motioned to his men, and they snatched Beilzen from the floor. The Cha watched in horrified disbelief as they dragged him kicking and screaming toward the postern door.
“Father! No! Father, help me, please!” Beilzen continued to scream, causing Perrin to rush out into the corridor.
“Beilzen?” Perrin asked. He ran after the men dragging his bleeding son down the hall. “What do you think you’re doing? Unhand my son,” Perrin yelled. When the Cha clutched his arms, he struggled against their tight hold. “Let me go! Beilzen? Unhand my son!”
“We didn’t come for you, Perrin,” Yannick said. “But know this: if you interfere with the Zaxson’s orders, you’ll hang beside your son in the dark chamber.”
“No, Beilzen, no. Please, gods, no,” Perrin screamed, falling on his knees.
When they exited the temple, the guards threw Beilzen in the back of the concealed cart, making their way back to the citadel. Beilzen cried and begged as they forced him through the slave entrance toward the cells. Many times, he’d escorted new slaves and prisoners through the tiny entrance. Now, the time was his.
His heart pounded in his chest, seeing the dark hood coming toward him. “No, no,” he yelled, struggling against the guards, biting, kicking, anything to break free.
Yannick raised his cudgel, jabbing him hard in the stomach.
“Shite!” he shouted as Beilzen retched on his boots. “You’ll pay for that,” Yannick sneered, delivering several devastating blows.
Beilzen’s shrieks seemed unending, resonating off the bare walls.
“Take him to the dark chamber,” he said, shaking the vomit from his boots. “See to that craven while I inform the Zaxson that he’s here.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 74