Cries of mourning and disbelief filled the air as Daracus continued.
“These pythonesses sent threats to Nazil on the lips of slaves! A warning to you, and a threat to me. ‘Join the darkness and live, or stay within the light and perish.’ They’d see us bow to their darkness while snuffing out our light. I say to you now, never will this come to pass. I, Daracus Rhobert Vereux, will meet this threat with only the courage and resolve found in the heart of a Nazilian. Through me, Nazil will be great again. Always Nazil will stand! Always we’ll have dominion over these lands! The darkness of these pythonesses will not cover us. We reject that which they demand, and our light will forever remain and cover all the lands. We are people of honor, of courage, of power! We bow to no one. It is they who’ll bow to us! HONOR ABOVE ALL!”
Battle for Nazil
The crowd’s chanting was rising in pitch when the large shadows appeared overhead. The screeches of the Desu Beasts began drowning out the Zaxson’s words, causing the gathered group to search the skies. A crescendo of panicked shouts erupted when Arinak flew lower, and then climbed, disappearing into the blinding sun. Even the priests shielded their eyes, attempting to see what hovered above the white city.
Daracus was oblivious, delivering his speech even as those around him were becoming anxious. Exchanging a look, Yannick and Nakaris flanked the Zaxson in a protective stance. Yannick’s eyes darted back and forth, his thumb rubbing the hilt of his Xtabyren.
“Steady, Tzadok, steady,” Wosen said, drawing forth his bow. Small beads of sweat dotted his brow as Tzadok skillfully guided Jzardis toward the citadel. Taking a calming breath, Wosen checked his quivers again. “One, two, three, four,” he counted, ensuring his ammunition was full.
“Bring me closer,” Wosen whispered, nocking an arrow while grasping a half dozen more in his draw hand.
Tzadok nodded. “Nof’laeng, [52] Jzardis,” he communicated extrasensorily to steady his beast. Jzardis screeched, diving, and gliding low over the crowd. Screams immediately erupted as the beast came into view.
With one fluid motion, Wosen released an arrow, rotated his wrist, and nocked the next. When one of the Cha fell, Yannick grabbed the Zaxson, pushing him behind the others. The next arrow grazed Daracus’ shoulder, impaling a guard he’d passed.
The amethyst illumination of Arinak’s helm increased as he communicated with the Protectors. With a loud screech from Xandi, they simultaneously descended on the city.
Pentanimir memorized the guard’s locations while Baldon and Arinak circled the citadel. With a deafening roar, Baldon raised his double-edged axe, landing Náelon on the roof.
Dismounting Xandi, Arinak lowered Thalassa to the ground, and then spun around with a fearsome swing, launching the approaching guards from her path. Their bodies flew helplessly through the air, bones crushing and shattering beneath the weight of the blow. As they ran forward, the beasts took flight, jabbing at the guards on the ramparts with their venomous tails. Náelon released a chilling mist, slowing the guards, then swooped down, clutching them in her claws, only to drop them to their deaths.
The terrified Nazilians ran to their posts, clad only in the ceremonial dress for the occasion. Never had anyone dared to launch an attack on Nazil.
The guards quickly took their place at the arrow loops, taking aim. Deadly bolts from the walls of the city and the citadel alike were let loose, but the beasts flew toward the light, blinding those who took aim at them.
Thalassa drew her twin blades as a horde of Nazilian guard came running toward her. When Arinak and Baldon came up behind, some of the men skittered to a stop, and then retreated. Baldon moved forward, heaving his huge axe at the advancing horde. He eviscerated and knocked groups of them from Thalassa’s path, their mangled bodies crashing against the unyielding citadel walls.
Danimore and Pentanimir ran through the door, descending the narrow passageway. When they reached the main floor, a phalanx of Chosen stood in their path. The ground trembled in their wake, signaling Brukin’s arrival. With nary enough space to pass, the massive Protector forced his way through, taking position in front of the brothers.
On the ground, Hosdaq, Temian, and Julaybeim rushed through the temple’s open door. “Out! All of you, out!” Temian shouted to the Nazilians and slaves taking refuge in the large structure. Confused screams filled the sanctuary when Sarroh entered, a resounding roar erupting from the pit of his stomach. The Nazilians and slaves ran for the exit, some tumbling to the ground as Sarroh’s heft caused the floor beneath them to tremble.
The warriors grabbed torches, running through and evacuating the temple. When Temian entered the Cha’s hall, he paused, lowering his torch to the cushioned seats and velvet curtains adorning the room. Within moments, the chamber engulfed in flames. Taking no time to inspect his work, he continued down the stone corridor to the crypts. Calls from Hosdaq and Julaybeim echoed above him as his torch ignited the tapestries and drapes lining the corridor and stairs.
Temian pushed open the crypt’s door, inspecting the chilly room. When his eyes swept over the crypt, he noticed the draped bodies on the berths. Sliding the shrouds from each, his eyes widened, staring down at both the Zaxson and his daughter.
Before his thoughts could clear, Hosdaq’s shouts claimed his attention. He lowered his torch, igniting the shrouds. Red and yellow embers burst from the torch as he allowed his hand to open, and it tumbled to the ground.
Drawing his Guardians’ blade from its scabbard, Temian took the stairs two at a time. The walls burned furiously as he made his way back to the sanctuary.
“The Zaxson and Denotra lie beneath,” he said, rejoining the others.
Hosdaq merely nodded, glancing around the burning temple. “We must move. The guard of Nazil awaits.”
The men raised their swords in response, running behind him.
Bedlam ensued when they exited the burning temple. The Protectors brutally laid waste to the vanguard of Nazilian soldiers forming ranks against them. Their beasts screeched from above, swooping down gracefully, grabbing guards with their claws, and then lifting them into the clouds.
Charging into a horde of fighting forces, Julaybeim thrust ahead, impaling one guard, and then immediately decapitating another. With a burning rage, he struck fiercely, delivering swift and mortal blows. With each swipe, he envisaged his parents and Itai, fueling his inexorable attack, spinning and slashing with preternatural precision.
The stench of death and smoke saturated the air with bodies littering the ground as the warriors pressed forward, plodding through the mire of blood from the slain and wounded. Hundreds of the Nazilians wavered, throwing their swords aside and retreating from the gruesome scene. Hosdaq held his sword at the ready, taking full measure of the guards.
“We must continue toward the citadel,” he called out to Temian and Julaybeim.
As he ran toward Gavriel, a thunderous eruption halted his advance. Peering up, Hosdaq’s face blanched, seeing Wosen’s perilous predicament.
Wosen’s eyes widened as the huge stone hurtled toward them. “Watch out!” he yelled, shouldering his bow and clutching Tzadok’s waist.
“K’alondea, Jzardis! K’alondea!” [53] Tzadok said aloud, a moment too late. With a great thud, the huge stone crashed against Jzardis’ unprotected hind leg. She screeched horribly, struggling to regain her flight.
“No,” Hosdaq said, rushing toward the citadel, slashing and stabbing all in his path. Julaybeim and Temian weren’t far behind, taking to the backs of the beasts.
“No! Wosen!” Hosdaq shouted again.
Wosen dangled from Jzardis’ back, as Tzadok reached for him, while trying to maintain his beast’s flight.
Wosen gripped his hand, only to lose his hold when Jzardis banked left, dodging a fusillade of arrows.
“Gods…No—” Wosen shouted, futilely grasping at the empty air as he plunged toward the citadel. Everything appeared to slow, except the visions pervading his mind. “No,” he whimpered, gazing up
into the sun, before closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Blood spurted from his mouth as his body hit the stone with a sickening thud. A weak moan escaped his lips, his body convulsing before finally lying still.
“Hosdaq!” Temian called out from Ilka’s back. “You won’t make it. Help Julaybeim, I’ll go to Wosen.”
“Baatheer !” [54] Sarroh commanded, and Ilka took to the skies, her massive wings extending. The beast soared above the citadel, banking sharply before diving towards a contingent of guards, knocking them off the ramparts. Releasing her chilling mist, Sarroh guided Ilka low, allowing Temian to slide from her back.
Ilka’s redoubtable wings flapped, providing Temian cover, before she flew toward some fleeing guards, her bite impaling two while her claws slashed at the others.
Temian continued his run, Ilka’s shadow masking his swift approach. With a twirling swipe, he impaled one guard, delivering a high kick to another.
Wosen gagged, expelling a mass of mucus and blood. The stabbing pain that followed had him grasping his chest as he rolled sideward, desperately attempting to clear the haze encompassing his mind. Clenching his eyes, he grimaced, pushing up to his knees. The radiating pain increased, thrumming in his head with each pulse of his heart.
When Wosen focused ahead, he blinked repeatedly, noticing the onslaught of attacking guards. “Tem—Temian,” he breathed, searching his surroundings, and grabbing up some fallen arrows. Ignoring the pain, Wosen staggered to his feet, nocking an arrow. For a moment, his vision doubled, the men appearing more as indistinct, coalescing shadows than men.
“Guardians guide my hands,” Wosen said, focusing forward again, and releasing. One of the guards went down, squirming as the heat of the poison inflamed his flesh. Rotating his wrist, Wosen continued firing until the guards lay writhing and dying at Temian’s feet.
“We—we must move,” Wosen slurred, nearly toppling as he gathered up his arrows and stumbled toward a small door.
“Are you all right?” Temian asked, steadying Wosen’s stance, and reaching for the handle, only to lurch back when two guards rushed through. Wosen cried out, plummeting back to the ground as Temian’s abrupt stop caused them to collide.
Dodging an oncoming swipe, Temian rolled, landing in a crouch, immediately parrying a blade a hair’s breadth from his face. He leapt up, side-sliding while swatting the second guard’s sword away. As he reversed his spin, he stomped the side of the guard’s knee, following with a spinning kick that sent the guard careening into the wall.
A glint in his periphery caused Temian to turn, meeting the first guard’s attack.
His eyes widened, recognizing the former Cha. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, traitor,” the guard sneered, drawing a dagger from its sheath. “Not before I have a bit of fun, though,” he said, lunging forward, causing Temian to give ground. Tossing a worried glance at Wosen, Temian met the guard’s eyes again.
“Maybe I’ll gut that savage first,” the man said, raising up his dagger.
“No,” Temian yelled, coming on in a fury. Kicking the guard’s dagger arm up, Temian half spun, coming around with his sword. When the guard staggered back, Temian brandished his shield, assuming a protective posture in front of Wosen.
“Ya got a sweet spot for that one, eh?” The guard said, circling around the two. He tapped his dagger against his sword, readying himself for a strike.
Temian wouldn’t give him the chance. Hearing another groan from Wosen, he straightened his stance, bringing his sword to the ready.
“Envision your victory and then achieve it.” Temian inhaled deeply, recalling Kuhani’s words. A calm covered him then, focusing on the guard.
“Dijnay ein faeduhn,” [55] Temian whispered as his feet glided from side to side, his body following in flawless harmony. When the guard momentarily lowered his eyes, Temian reversed, lunging toward his left side, plunging his blade deep within his ribcage. In a blur, he flipped backward, touching down lightly before planting his foot in the guard’s side, shoving him away from Wosen.
As he swayed to the ground, Temian replaced his shield, grabbing up the guard’s dropped sword, and then helped Wosen to his feet.
When they entered the citadel, the chaotic battle raged inside with tangles of guards, Protectors, and slaves. The bodies of dead and dying littered the corridor with the sound of clashing metal and shouts resonating off the walls. Temian and Wosen moved through the corridors, fighting to advance, noticing Thalassa and Baldon in an adjacent hall finishing off some guards.
“Here!” He tossed a sword to Wosen. “The bow won’t help us—”
Temian’s words ended in a gasp, pushing Wosen aside as he dodged a sword swipe. Temian struggled to regain his footing and bring his sword up to block, as Thalassa slashed the guard down his back with one blade, while sweeping up fluidly with the other.
“Behind you!” Wosen warned.
Temian brought his shield up, whirling sideward as Thalassa spun around, dropping into a side-split, crossing her swords above her. The Xtabyren of the Chosen clashed against her Guardian swords as she deflected his attack. Temian came in alongside his sister as more Chosen ran to the aid of their comrade. The first gave ground, and Thalassa rolled backward, deftly coming to her feet, meeting a guard’s blade.
She thrust with her right sword and then swiftly retracted it, swiping with the left. The guard’s reaction was too slow as he realized her feint. With her downward swipe, she took his arm clean off at the elbow.
Wosen’s eyes widened, trying to follow her lightning-fast movements. Drawing forth his bow, he took aim and released. The arrow barely missed Temian, piercing the neck of the Chosen he fought.
Thalassa crossed her blades in front of her, keeping her eyes fixed on two men moving strategically forward. With whitening knuckles, she tightened her grip on the hilts of her swords, releasing a slow breath. When the two guards were almost upon her, she turned, running in the opposite direction.
Wosen continued to loose arrows as more guards took up the chase. The two pursuing guards smirked when Thalassa’s retreat was halted by the stone wall. The guards roared, increasing their pace to cut down the seemingly trapped woman. Both men skidded to an abrupt stop when Thalassa didn’t end her run. Instead, she increased her speed, running up the side of the wall, and agilely performed a backflip, landing behind her pursuers.
Before the two men could move to counter, she crossed her swords with one pointed up to the right, while the blade held in her right hand shifted with a turn of her wrist pointed down and out. In one precise movement, both blades contacted the guard’s backs. One slash down and one up. When the guards screamed and spun toward her, she crouched, rolling forward, ending up again at their backs. Flipping her swords in her hands, the blades pointed behind her, she raised them high over her head and stabbed back with all her force, completing a double backward thrust, impaling the thrashing guards.
Thalassa flipped and lowered her swords, espying a remaining guard. His blood-sodden arm shook violently, extending his Xtabyren toward her with lingering strength scarcely capable of bearing its weight.
With a whimpering grunt, he swung wildly, nearly toppling from the effort.
“You don’t need to die,” Thalassa said, locking eyes with him.
“But you do,” he muttered, pressing the attack, ignoring the futility of his efforts. As he thrust forward, Thalassa twirled, whipping her right arm upward, wrenching his weapon from his hand. Reversing her spin, she leveled her swords, plunging the venomous blades through his chest.
Wosen’s gaze was fixed until Thalassa’s cry of warning brought him from his trance. “Down!” Thalassa shouted, and he instantly dove, finding the floor. When he dared to look up again, he saw her crouched before him with her right arm extended. He followed her gaze behind him where lay three Nazilian guards, clutching the small blades she’d thrown into their chests. He gasped, scrambling to his feet.
Wasting no time, Thalassa pulled the blade
s from the Chosen, sheathing them across her breasts. She searched the corridor, looking for any sign of more guards, but only fleeing slaves remained. Leaping over the dead and dying, she followed the sound of clashing steel ringing in the distance.
“Brother, this way,” she shouted, charging ahead with her twin blades. The quickness and agility of her spins struck fear in the heart of the guards as they tried desperately to keep their eyes on the spinning swords. Her movements appeared a blur as she whirled, jabbing at one and then slashing at another.
“We must get Wosen outside, his arrows are needed in the air,” Temian called out, running up beside her.
They made their way along the stone hallways and up a narrow staircase to the roof. Temian was cautious, opening the small door and motioning for Wosen to follow. They provided cover for him until Tzadok and Jzardis descended on the roof, lifting Wosen upon the beast, and then immediately ascending again.
Temian closed the door, checking down the corridor. “Where are the others?”
Wiping her blades on her thighs, she pointed. “Come with me.”
“Get the Zaxson to safety!” Yannick yelled while leveling his sword toward the brothers.
Gesturing with his eyes, Pentanimir signaled to Danimore, and then focused on Yannick.
“I didn’t come here to fight you, Second Chosen,” Pentanimir said. “We’ve only come to free Nazil from Daracus’ grasp.”
Yannick began circling, never taking his eyes from Pentanimir. “Nazil is free, son of Manifir. If you’ve come for our Zaxson, then, you’ve come for me. I’m First Chosen now.”
“Too many lives have already been lost, Yannick. You’re my brother, and I don’t want to raise my sword against you. Bastian needs you, and so does Nazil. Please, don’t force this fight.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 79