The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  Pentanimir forced a smile, peering up at them. “I do miss my wife, but she needs this time. She’s still mourning the loss of her family, and Tioch hasn’t seen his grandson. I won’t disturb their time.”

  “We know that Brahanu and Eytan need to be in Cazaal. I’m merely suggesting that you could visit. Please, Brother, your wife’s closeness is what you need, not another sparring session with Symeon,” Temian urged, rubbing the raised knot on his head.

  Pentanimir laughed, wincing at the large, blue and green lump. “Mayhaps I should heed your advice, lest I look like you on the morrow. You are my High Advisor, are you not?” He smiled.

  Temian nodded as the three rose from the table.

  “You should have Mother look at that.” Thalassa grimaced. “Arianna won’t be pleased at the sight of you.”

  Temian smiled, draping an arm over her shoulder. “I doubt that Jahno will be pleased at seeing your new bruises. I’m not the only one in need of a bit of healing.”

  Pentanimir chuckled, caressing his aching side. “Indeed. You think that Hushar might have enough herbs for me? If I’m going to see my wife, I want her well pleased.” He winked.

  Dissension

  Molag stood, scowling as he leaned on the council table. His voice always sounded the loudest and with the most contempt. He held his unrelenting stare, peering into the eyes of each council member before focusing on Urdan.

  He’d been against Urdan’s appointment as Caretaker, thinking he’d be a better and stronger leader for one of the three remaining Nazilian villages. Yarah was the only village where the humans didn’t reside, unless it was in servitude.

  “Molag, we’ve heard your opinions on the matter,” Urdan said. “Now, please be seated so this meeting can continue in an orderly manner.”

  “I have more to say, Caretaker, and more than a few agree with me.”

  “I’ve given you the opportunity to voice your concerns. They are unchanging, and you constantly press a point that’s moot. There are others here yet to speak. I ask again that you take your seat so we may continue with pressing business.”

  “So, again you refuse to give my concerns a proper hearing?” Molag said. “You cower in front of the new, self-imposed leaders of Nazil. Was the fair Arianna payment for the provisional position you hold, Caretaker ?” He spat the last word with utter contempt.

  Urdan flashed him a threatening glare, rising slowly from his seat, matching the imposing upstart’s stare.

  “Sir Bomgaard, I’ve shown as much patience as I’ll allow. You deliberately attempt to disrupt any orderly meeting this council holds. A council that you were appointed to because of your experience and standing in this community. Still, as quickly as I placed you here, I’ll have you removed. Provisional or permanent, don’t ever doubt the authority of my position. You won’t intimidate members of this council or ever speak about my daughter in such a lewd fashion again. Your false tongue only serves to guide in fear and mistrust. We’re discussing means for the betterment of Yarah. I’ll not permit one upstart to ruin the peace we’ve always known in this village.

  “If you’re not satisfied with the Zaxson’s edicts, Nazil is less than a sun’s ride. Speak those grievances directly to Sir Benoist, and do arrive with the same attitude you’ve been showing toward not just me, but all this council. Now, take your seat, or I’ll have you removed.”

  Molag’s face darkened. He tightened his square jaw, scrutinizing the council members’ faces. No one would regard him, but Urdan continued his piercing stare.

  “You dare offer a threat toward me?”

  “I don’t make threats, Molag. I’m stating a fact,” Urdan said, imperiously.

  Molag’s eyes narrowed, but he lowered to his seat. After several tense moments, Hadrian Finwick cleared his throat, drawing the council’s attention.

  “Caretaker, there’s still the issue of the temple that we have yet to decide.”

  “Sir Finwick, I see no issue here. The temple will continue to be a place of worship for our people.”

  “Pardons, Caretaker,” another councilman said. “I’ve received word from Nazil that their temple won’t be rebuilt, and the worship of the Four is forbidden.”

  Urdan’s expression was one of dismay. He was aware that numerous Yarahians were working against the cooperation with Nazil. There were some, like Molag, who were attempting to gather enough support to converge on Nazil in force. He had to diffuse this situation now before more momentum was gained.

  “Sir deGrey, what you speak is false. As we deliberate here, masons continue to rebuild Nazil’s temple. Mayhaps if you traveled to the white city instead of listening to the whispers of upstarts, you’d see the truth for yourself. Lord Benoist hasn’t banned the worship of the Four. He and his family have chosen to worship these Guardians, but he hasn’t imposed such restrictions on anyone else. Most humans still serve the Seven as we do the Four. That choice has not and will not be taken from us.”

  Molag scoffed. “Guardians? More like pythonesses and winged demons. How are we to trust a Zaxson who follows those dark creatures? You’ve all borne witness to those slaves of darkness the pythonesses sent to destroy us. Now, every seventh sun they return to threaten the peace of our village. These beasts are evil, and they’ll feast on the flesh of our children!”

  “Molag,” Urdan snapped. “You’ll cease with your wild tales of death and destruction. None of it’s true, yet you’d spew your hatred to incite others to your cause. You’ve no facts or evidence to offer, only hate and conjecture. Draizeyn is no longer our Zaxson…his line has been defeated. He waged a war that he couldn’t win. Now, we must accept the changes implemented by our new Zaxson. Nazilians are still in power, and we haven’t been subjugated as you would like the simpler among us to believe.”

  “Caretaker, I agree with the majority of what you’ve stated,” came a calming voice. “I don’t wholly approve of this new direction, but I understand the war has caused such vicissitudes. Nonetheless, Nazil’s citadel isn’t only ruled by Nazilians. Both the Zaxson and his Nakshij have human wives and so, too, will be their heirs. When Sir Benoist abdicates, an abomination will be Zaxson. That’s not a prospect that I embrace,” Tybalt Maneryn offered, respectfully.

  He was the eldest member of the council, and many respected his view. Though he didn’t speak often, when he did, he commanded everyone’s attention. Tybalt’s sentiments would likely resonate throughout Yarah. The Nazilians would look past Pentanimir to Tardison. When they pictured Pentanimir’s son, they wouldn’t see themselves. They’d see only a half-human abomination. A child that would’ve been killed at birth when the Vereux ruled Nazil.

  Urdan leaned back in his seat, studying the faces of the men in the room. He wondered if they’d speak the same of Temian, once they learned about his human mother.

  “Sir Maneryn, I understand your misgivings,” Urdan said. “Howbeit, the humans have always lived amongst us.”

  “Not as equals,” Molag was quick to add.

  Urdan ignored his outburst, and continued. “The changes we’re contending with were initiated by our own people: not by design, but by their actions. Each one of you knew Manifir Benoist and Kitrin Thaon. Both were honorable, and from prominent houses. Aronin Thaon still resides in Yarah with his family. My daughter, Ariana, wed the Zaxson’s brother and—”

  “The Zaxson’s bastard brother from the honorable Manifir, you mean,” the upstart sneered.

  “Enough!” Urdan said, standing abruptly. “Neither your agreement nor endorsement is obligatory. Pentanimir Benoist is the Zaxson of Nazil. Both he and his brothers are honorable men, regardless of your fallacious statements to the contrary. You can say what you will to tarnish that which shines brightly, but your efforts will be for naught. Had you made such claims to Sir Manifir or his sons, they would’ve dropped you where you stood. But that isn’t the way of cowards. Your voice rings loudly in this chamber, yet you utter not the slightest whisper when you’re in the company of th
ose you claim to oppose.”

  Molag’s face burned with rage. He raised a finger, attempting to respond.

  “I said enough,” Urdan said in a more controlled tone. “You have nothing to offer but incendiary remarks and conjecture. Differing opinions are imperative to establishing beneficial directives for Yarah, but this isn’t your intent. Your prime impetus is to disrupt the council’s affairs and sabotage our efforts. This won’t continue, Molag. I won’t allow it.”

  “Allow?”

  “Yes, allow. I’m the Caretaker of Yarah, and I decide who sits her council. I chose you because I thought that you’d come with honest dialogue and reliable suggestions, but your behavior is that of a malapert, not a beneficial member of this council. You’ve offered nothing but derision, and continuously disrespect our new leaders. Tell me: would you have voiced the same about the Vereuxs?”

  “Oh, now I’m allowed to answer?”

  “You behave as a spoiled child denied the breast of your mother, Sir Bomgaard. I’m sorely disappointed. Apparently, you aren’t interested in bettering our beloved village or sustaining equitable relations with our leaders. You’re dismissed with the gratitude of the council,” Urdan finished with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  As Molag sprang to his feet, seething, Urdan ignored the display, grabbing up a parchment from the table and examining it.

  “You dare!” Molag said, pounding a fist on the table.

  “My decision is final, Sir Bomgaard.” Urdan spoke coolly, and then rose, addressing the rest of his council. “Thank you for your invaluable insights into our future endeavors and current situations. We’re adjourned and will reconvene seven suns hence.”

  The council members offered slight bows, glancing around the chamber warily before exiting. Molag was the last to leave, slamming his heavy chair up to the table.

  “You think yourself safe behind these stone walls, Caretaker? Where will you hide when the people you’ve betrayed come to make you answer for it?”

  Urdan fixed him with a baleful stare. “I serve the people of Yarah, not Molag Bomgaard. Whoever has a grievance will be heard. They need not slink over the citadel walls; they need to only knock, and it shall be answered. That’s the difference between you and I. Force doesn’t guarantee results. If you doubt that, ask Draizeyn Vereux for his opinion on the matter.”

  Molag scoffed, exiting the chamber and slamming the door in his wake.

  “He’ll be one to watch, Father,” Jarin warned, entering from a side-chamber. He often listened to the council meetings, documenting what was said and by whom.

  “Indeed. It would be prudent to send a message to Nazil. The Zaxson must know about this. I’ve no doubt that Molag’s sentiments will resonate with many Yarahians.”

  “Do you think that they’d attempt an uprising against the Zaxson?”

  “I put nothing past such men,” Urdan said. “Yarah isn’t in turmoil. Mayhaps the calm is unsettling to those of his ilk. He has a hatred for the humans that’s beyond reason. I fear the sons of Manifir will encounter numerous adversaries and controversy on the path they’ve chosen.”

  “What about Arianna? She’s married to Temian and shares the Benoist name.”

  “Your sister is where she belongs, Jarin. From the beginning, it was meant to be. I only wish that Manifir could’ve witnessed the joy of our children’s wedding. Arianna will be fine, but we must alert them to this conflict.”

  “I’ll send a message immediately.” Jarin started away and then paused. “With Sir Bomgaard removed, who’ll take his place on the council?”

  “There’s only one other that I’d choose. Before you send a message to Nazil, instruct Cantor to retrieve Aronin Thaon. He and I must speak on many matters concerning both Nazil’s and Yarah’s current state.”

  “Aronin? He’s ridiculed Sir Benoist of late. Are you certain that you want him on the council?”

  “I’ll determine that after we speak. Aronin’s anger stems from learning about Temian’s true father. Manifir Benoist was wed to his aunt, after all. Even though Temian was conceived long before their marriage, it was no less a shock. They grew up here in Yarah together, never knowing their relation to each other. Aronin has nothing against the Benoists, and speaks highly of Pentanimir. He trained with the Zaxson for several seasons while he was in Nazil. Not only that, the Thaons are highly regarded and well liked amongst the populace. It would bolster our position to bring them to our side.”

  “As you say, Father. I only hope that Aronin’s position mirrors that of our own. We need no further conflict or separation within the village.”

  “You speak true. Now, do your duty. I must have words with your mother. She needs to know what’s happened.”

  With a slight nod, Jarin exited the chamber. Urdan watched the door close, leaning back in his seat and digesting the implications of the meeting. It was likely a presage to something greater.

  Zaxson

  Symeon entered the solar, bowing. He’d been packing to leave when Nakaris informed him of the meeting. Since Nazil’s liberation, he’d assumed a tentative position in the citadel. Howbeit, Nazil wasn’t his home, and it was time to reclaim the life the former leaders had stolen from him.

  “You sent for me, Zaxson?” Symeon asked.

  “I did. Please join me,” Pentanimir said, motioning to the table. “We have much to discuss.”

  Symeon merely nodded, closing the door, and taking his seat.

  “Symeon, you’re no longer in service to the citadel or obligated to me. In fact, I’d heard you were readying yourself to leave Nazil. I didn’t know you’d plan to depart so soon. Where are you traveling?”

  “South, my lord. I’ll visit the Neema outpost first to meet with some associates. After which, I’m going to Kaleo.”

  “Truly? Well, I have an offer that I’d like you to consider. Of course, I’ll not hinder your leave, but I do hope that you’ll be receptive to what I have to say.”

  His curiosity piqued. Symeon poured a glass of wine, leaning back in his seat. “I wasn’t planning on leaving until the morrow, and I’d like to thank you for the horses and coin.”

  “It was my pleasure, Symeon. You’re owed far more than some horses and provisions. What you’ve suffered here…” he shook his head. “…even more so, what you’ve done for my family and me is incalculable. This war couldn’t have been won without your assistance.” Pentanimir paused, locking eyes with him. “Or your honor. Do you have any family near?”

  “Once, but no more.”

  “Someone will join us shortly, but I needed to speak with you first. You’re aware that most of our Chosen were killed during the battle. Now, I need to enlist and train a new Chosen guard…a guard that evinces the honor and skill needed for such a prestigious position. Of all the men in Nazil, your skill and integrity impress me most.”

  “Thank you, Zaxson. I’m honored.”

  “They aren’t just words. I haven’t forgotten you besting me when we sparred in Spero, or you saving my life during the battle. You reminded us of the true meaning of honor, and I plan to evince the same as I rule Faélondul. I owe you more than could ever be repaid.” He waited a moment, ruminating on those truths. “Symeon, I’d like for you to consider becoming my First Chosen and train a new Nazilian guard.”

  With that, Symeon sat motionless, staring over at him.

  “I hope that your silence isn’t a refusal,” Pentanimir said.

  “No. No, Zaxson. Are you truly offering me such an honored position?”

  “I am. In fact, if you refuse, I’d be hard pressed to find a replacement. You’d oversee my personal guard as well as the Chosen. Save three, the selection of the new guard would be yours. You’ll be responsible for their training and anyone you enlist to assist. I’ve already assigned you a spacious suite, and I’m prepared to hire attendants to see to your personal needs.”

  Symeon considered those words, and more so, what they could mean for his future. The First Chosen was fourth in
Nazil’s hierarchy. Never had a human held such a high position. Not even in the human cities. He inclined his head, unable to form a verbal response.

  “Very well. Nakaris Middleton is your second and my brother, Temian, your third. Wosen Neufmarche will be new to the guard and is of special concern and interest to me. He and his father helped to liberate the city. Wosen is half-Nazilian, and eager to become a Chosen.”

  “I’ve met him. Does he have any formal training?”

  “Very little, but he’ll train hard and follow your orders. Of this, I am assured.”

  “I accept your offer, Zaxson, but I’d like to request that your sister assist me.”

  “Thalassa?”

  “Yes. Her prowess is exceptional and the training she received from the Protectors would be invaluable in combination with my own. If she’d be agreeable, I’d be honored to work with her.”

  “Thalassa would be the one who’s honored, Symeon. I’ll talk with her once my meetings are concluded. She’s asked to assist Nzuri, but I doubt she’d refuse an opportunity to spar with you and train a new Chosen Guard.”

  “I look forward to it, Zaxson. We’ll train them well, and I’ll remain at your side.”

  As Pentanimir raised his cup, a soft knock claimed their attention. When the door creaked open, Symeon’s brow knitted.

  “Sarai?” Symeon said. “Do you need me?”

  “The—the Zaxson asked me to join him,” Sarai said, inching into the room.

  “I did,” Pentanimir said. “Please take a seat. I have something to discuss with the both of you.”

  Pentanimir observed the timidity in her steps and the concern on Symeon’s face. Sarai slid her chair closer to Symeon, and further away from the Zaxson before sitting. He understood her apprehension, and that truth saddened him. It would take time to remove the tarnish corroding Nazil. He just hoped that he could achieve such an imperative resolution without disrupting the fragile peace tethering Faélondul together.