“How is he?” Pentanimir asked.
“His outer wounds will heal in time. The inner ones are more debilitating.”
Pentanimir sighed in silent lament, caressing the quillon of Yannick’s dagger. His inner wounds and conflicts were imbedded within the depths of his soul. He couldn’t purge such anguish or free his mind from truths known only to him. The blood saturating his hands could never be cleansed, nor the faces and words of those he’d killed. Forever would they haunt his dreams, as surely as killing Crissu had haunted his father’s.
“Ghosts,” Pentanimir muttered, meeting Temian’s eyes. “Are—are Velnic and Elodie accepting the new positions?”
“Yes, and I’ve arranged a short meeting in the hall. After speaking with the guards, I think you should rest. You’re the Zaxson of Nazil, Pentanimir, but you’re not standing alone.”
The Rise of Nazil
Pentanimir leaned back, watching the Afferean women exit the room. Although seeing his son had lifted some of the despondency assailing him, it also reminded him of the importance and depth of his responsibilities, not only to Faélondul, but also to his family.
The lands were fractured, tethered to a brittle filament, threatening to shatter at any moment. The loss of the Nazilian villages would serve to fuel that dissention, adding to the complexities he was already facing.
“Dovak, Mahlum, Lempol, Leahcim,” he said, shaking his head. Thousands of lives ended in mere moments: Nazilian lives. He gazed down at his hands then. More blood saturated them, more blood unable to be cleansed.
“It’s not yours to own,” a deep voice sounded from behind him. “We mourn the lives lost, but must focus on those who yet live. Focus on the lives you’ve saved and the deaths that you’ve prevented.”
Pentanimir looked up, meeting Kuhani’s dark brown eyes. Such depth and wisdom was embedded in them. He could feel his mind touching his, stilling his thoughts and reaching beyond what his words conveyed.
“Drah’kuu Kuhani.” Pentanimir stood. “I thought you’d left for Spero.”
“Not as yet. I was awaiting your arrival, but didn’t want to interrupt your time with Tardison. There’s more for me to attend to in Afferea before joining Hosdaq.”
“Here?”
“Not only, but yes. You’ve accomplished much in little time, Pentanimir. We’ve spoken about the disparity in the lands often, and your feeling of helplessness in relieving it. You can’t burden your spirit with the means of that liberation. You must focus on Faélondul as a whole, and where you lead from here. The battle and the destruction wrought from it will be infinitesimal compared to what lies ahead. Now, the struggle truly begins. Don’t allow internal conflicts to affect or deter you. What is past, is past, and cannot be altered. The future is in front of you, and that is of the greatest importance.”
“I can’t erase the past, Kuhani. It’s a part of me and shall never leave my heart and mind,” he said, his fingertips resting on Yannick’s dagger.
Kuhani nodded, walking to his side. When Pentanimir turned, Kuhani placed a hand over his heart. “Faeduhn ein’ ceot nahderahn sheldillah ganalo juahnu vaahn r’aymed shahsheetay. Shahshee ein’ ceot eryhnzea, xutuihn aut kibe, kryehn thramedhe vaahn syohnt,” [56] he said, extrasensorily.
Pentanimir’s knees wobbled, feeling numinous pricks trickling down his spine. “Death is a new beginning not understood by the living. Life is a gift, granted to the whole, yet cherished by a few,” he repeated in the common tongue. “How, Kuhani?”
“Your life, all of our lives are beginning anew, Zaxson. The choices you’ll soon make will affect the whole of Faélondul. Don’t burden your heart with what you cannot change. Doing so will corrupt what’s pure and obfuscate the clarity you’ve always possessed.”
“Drah’kuu Kuhani, K’aun ein’ zan’ner . R’aymed Guardians k’naan ,” [57] Angelaris said.
Kuhani inclined his head, and then bowed to Angelaris and Arinak, before exiting the room.
“Please, sit,” Angelaris said to Pentanimir. As Arinak knelt, she stroked the crest on his brow. “Resh k’ahndelae bo’halla, Wosen, pahn’taal uhnmé?” [58]
Arinak nodded, leaving the two of them alone.
“Is Wosen coming?” Pentanimir asked.
“He’ll be with us soon, and you can return to Nazil together. There’s much left to say.”
“What else needs to be said, AsZar?”
“The rebuilding and unification of Faélondul will be an arduous task, and you’ll need to forge strong bonds to fortify the alliances eroded by the quondam corruption.”
“I’ve been thinking of little else of late.”
“You’ve always felt the imbalance in these lands, but know that your father felt the same. Manifir made a choice long ago, and each of your siblings is a product of that choice. And from you, a new line will emerge. By following your heart, Tardison is with us. He is the true leader of your people, and a new hope for all of Faélondul.”
“Tardison? What do you mean?”
“It’s for you to prepare the lands for your son. You’ve often asked of your purpose and how to heal Faélondul. The Guardians have answered, Pentanimir. Through Tardison, this can come to pass. Each of the warriors who fought at your side will have a part in what lies ahead. It’s with each of you that a new line will come forth, absent the disillusionment of false gods. A new line that will rule in peace, without the maleficence and hatred of the past. A new line unencumbered by what cannot be changed, but the propensity to envisage what can be, and the tenacity to make it happen. Albeit your coming years won’t be free from conflicts or circumstances that will test your belief in yourself and each other. As we stand here, seeds of discord are being sown into arable hearts and minds pervaded with dubiety and trepidation.”
“So, what am I to do? I can’t fight the whole of Faélondul, AsZar.”
“You are to trust in what you’ve forever known, leading with a pure heart and a sound mind. Protect your family and your people, and don’t fear what is to come. Know that you’ll have the support and resolve to overcome such hardships and betrayals.”
Pentanimir’s brow creased, staring into her eyes. There was something there, beyond what was. He could sense it, yet couldn’t grasp hold to it. “What’s coming, AsZar? What will I soon face?”
She merely grasped his hand. The sensation that followed caused goose prickles to cover his flesh as a soothing warmth made him lightheaded.
“The future cannot be foretold, Zaxson. Each choice manifests new circumstances and challenges. Until those choices are made, your future is unknown. You must live in the now to establish what will be. We are here as guides, to help you walk the path of your choosing. We do not order your path and decide for you. Choice, Zaxson.”
“And if I choose wrongly?”
“That is an accepted corollary of who you are. We all err. It’s what’s done to learn from and rectify those errors that’s of importance. Do not fear to err. Fear allowing the dubiety to pervade your heart, preventing you from making a choice.”
He sighed, roughly rubbing his face.
“Some trials will soon come. The shift began with the blood of Oisin, and it can end with the blood of Manifir.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ve known only the mortal, Zaxson, but with Nazil’s liberation, that won’t remain so.”
Pentanimir leapt up. “Mortal? Do you mean something otherworldly? Is that what’s coming?”
“What has always been doesn’t need to arrive, it only needs a means to reveal itself to you.” When Pentanimir tried to respond, she stood to face him. “In time. You’ll need to return soon, and I have more to ask of you.”
Pentanimir sighed, shaking his head. “What would you have of me?”
“Wosen saved a young boy named Fáelán during the battle. His mother was a former slave, killed soon after his birth. Although Wosen wishes for Fáelán to remain with him, I ask for you to introduce Fáelán to his father and all
ow that bond to grow.”
“His father? Is he Nazilian?”
She nodded. “In the past, he wouldn’t have wanted his parentage revealed, but much has changed, and he’ll welcome Fáelán into his life.”
“What man? Who is his father?”
“A man forever changed by your former leaders. In his current state, Fáelán will be the only child he’ll sire. You saved his life after the battle, and now, you can enrich it.”
Pentanimir’s eyes widened. “Beilzen? Beilzen is his father?”
“He is. His mother’s name was Shiloh, and Beilzen will remember her well. Allow Beilzen time to heal and accept himself, before asking him to accept another. Give Beilzen the opportunity to provide a true home for Fáelán…a home filled with love and a renewed understanding.”
He sighed, closing his eyes. “I’ll see it done.”
“I’ve but one more request,” Angelaris said. “Speak with Sarai and Symeon. You’re aware of Symeon’s character and that of his people. You’ll need him at your side as your son will need the child Sarai now carries. She’s unaware of her pregnancy, but it will make itself known soon. You must speak with her about the child and the importance of his birth.” She paused. “Sarai won’t want this child or the memories of his sire. It’ll be difficult, but her son is needed, and must remain under your protection.”
“But…but…I can’t force her to birth a child that she doesn’t want, AsZar. I won’t. That’s not who I am.”
“Nor is it who I’m asking you to be. Speak with Sarai and convey my words. Her mind and heart will reconcile in time. If she can’t bear to bring him forth, no one will force her to do so,” she said, turning as Arinak entered with Wosen.
Pentanimir gasped, staring as Wosen approached, wearing a smile that he hadn’t seen since their time in Bandari.
“You’ve been blessed beyond measure, Wosen,” Pentanimir said, wide-eyed. No trace of his abuse remained, and he looked like the young man he’d always known.
“The Guardians give more than we’re worthy to receive. They’ve given me back my life and made me myself again.”
“You returned their children to them,” Angelaris said, accepting Arinak’s hand.
“The Protectors will see you safely, son of Manifir. A new era is at hand.
“It is the rise of Nazil.”
LISTEN TO THE MEHLONII LANGUAGE USED IN BOOK I HERE
THANK YOU FOR READING THE RISE OF NAZIL BOOK I
SEED OF SCORN
THE RISE OF NAZIL: BOOK II
“I’m not asking for you to accept my dream as truth. You asked what came to me as I slept, and now, I’ve told you. Knowing the future doesn’t make you wise, Hacom. It only gives you a glimpse of what might come to pass. What you do with that knowledge is what reveals the worth of a man.”
~Nohek Glennon
75th year of Kehldaron
CHAPTER LIST
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PIERCING THE DARKNESS: BOOK III
GLOSSARY
a painful lesson
Temian skittered toward the wall, diving to the right, and barely missing the tip of the heavy bardiche. Sparks shot through the air as the blade smashed against the stone with a loud resonating clang.
Pentanimir, taking advantage of the moment, dove between his siblings and the indomitable man. Hearing the nearly silent charge, he swept the bardiche out, forcing Pentanimir into a crouch, narrowly avoiding the deadly blow.
Temian turned, unsheathing his dagger, and launching it toward the man. He lunged forward in a roll, coming up swiftly to his feet with speed and agility unbelievable for someone of his size. A roar escaped his lips, noticing the trio of fighters taking position around him.
With practiced and methodical movements, they encircled the man. His eyes darted back and forth, gripping the bardiche tighter while assessing the dangerous trio. Thalassa struck first, her twin blades leading. He dropped the heavy bardiche, opting for his dagger and saber instead.
The lightening-fast fluidity of her attack had the man taking a step back as she spun around him, whirling with preternatural precision. He parried the swift moving blades almost effortlessly, wrenching the sword from her right hand, and sending it flying toward her brothers.
Thalassa worked her left blade in quick circles around his thrusting sword. Now on the defensive, she gave ground, flipping backward and landing lightly, then launching forward again with Temian at her side. Together, they attempted to keep the man off balance: one striking, and then the other in rapid succession, their movements in perfect harmony. The sound of the blades meeting was the perfect music for their well-practiced dance.
The solid metal bracers their opponent wore deflected Thalassa’s remaining blade, while Pentanimir came around the side, striking, and then quickly retreating. The well-muscled man only roared, scarcely noticing the hits. When Pentanimir thrust again, the man swept up hard with his sabre, sending the blade high. Planting one foot securely behind him, he slammed his knee into Pentanimir’s chest, sending him sailing backward against Temian, and halting his momentum.
Thalassa snarled, dropping into a roll, and retrieving her lost sword. She smiled then, pressing the attack, and giving her brothers time to strike. This time, he met her charge, leading with his sword. She made a well-placed defensive shift, parrying his sabre with her left, and countering with a slash from her right. He only grunted, feeling her blades contact his thick flesh.
As she attempted a combination move, he blocked her swords with one hand while dipping low, using his free hand and shoulder to lift her from the ground, and tossed her effortlessly behind him.
Seeing their sister motionless, Pentanimir and Temian rushed to her side.
The dangerous man only laughed, glimpsing the rage in their eyes. In a blur, he sent his dagger soaring, contacting Temian between his eyes, knocking him to the ground.
Pentanimir continued his swift advance, matching his thrusts and parries. Feeling the press of his attack, Pentanimir quick-stepped and then side-slid to get around him. He thrust his sword high, but didn’t follow through with the move, attempting to force the man into a parry to leave an opening for his blade.
But the battle-seasoned warrior noticed the obvious feint. He spun to the side, slamming Pentanimir hard as he came around. Now off balance, Pentanimir tried desperately to compensate. After regaining his equilibrium, he turned, only to have his sword easily batted away and the tip of the man’s blade at his throat.
Pentanimir raised his hands in the air, signaling his surrender and defeat. “Again, you’ve taken my head,” Pentanimir jested as a smile crossed his sweat-soaked face.
Symeon laughed, withdrawing the blunted sword. Together, they helped Thalassa and Temian to their feet. Both moaned, nursing the new bruises from the day’s workout.
“You fight well,” Symeon said, taking a drink of water.
Temian scoffed, caressing his forehead. “Not well enough.”
“All of you are impressive, especially Thalassa,” Symeon said. “There were several times that I thought you’d score a vital hit.”
“It wasn’t from lack of trying,” she said, rubbing her back.
Symeon laughed. “Indeed. Your technique is better than that of your brothers. The Protectors taught you well.”
“Yet I remained on the defensive and ended up on my back.”
“Rather that than having a projectile launched wickedly at your head,” Temian said.
It was Pen
tanimir’s time to laugh. He looked at his siblings’ raised welts, feeling many aches of his own. “I see why it took nearly twenty guards to subdue you, my friend. I surely thought the three of us could score at least a few potent hits.”
Symeon regarded him seriously. “Why would you believe that you didn’t? You won’t be alone nursing bruises this night.”
“It appeared to me that you anticipated our moves before we had an opportunity to deliver them,” Temian said.
“This is true, but all of you are great warriors. When you and Thalassa work together, it’s even more so. You complement each other, and the more you train together, the more formidable you’ll become. However, you rely too much on choreographed moves. Anyone who’s received comparable training will recognize the same, and if the speed is there, will parry and counter every time. Once the sword is learned, you must personalize your style.
“You are your blades; become part of them. The dance is like making love to beautiful women. It’s never the same, constantly changing with the feelings and desires of each. Fighting is more than what you’ve learned. It’s what you feel. The dance is always better when the unknown is coupled with the known.”
“Where does that leave me, then?” Thalassa japed, resting a hand on her shapely hip.
Symeon winked gamely at her. “I think I’ll allow your brothers to answer that,” he said, bowing and exiting the chamber.
“Now will you tell us what has your mind, Pentanimir?” she asked, taking a seat next to Temian. “You’re training too hard and too often.”
“Training is important, Thalassa, and Symeon is the best that I’ve known.”
“You speak true,” Temian said, “But Thalassa does as well. Is it Brahanu? Is this why you hide in the sparring chamber away from your family and your people?”
“I’m not hiding, I’m training. All of the responsibilities of my position are met,” Pentanimir said louder than he intended.
Thalassa and Temian exchanged a glance.
“Pentanimir, you’ve done well for Nazil, but not for yourself,” Temian said. “You miss your wife and we understand that. Brahanu should return soon. Or you could travel to Cazaal. We’re all here for you, Brother.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 82