The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “He loves you,” she said, as loud thumps sounded from the door. A pang erupted in her heart as she looked around the room, feeling the warmth that had suffused her dissipate. After regaining some composure, she exited the nursery, answering the door.

  “Father Tioch.”

  He smiled wistfully, his eyes resting on the babe swaddled in her arms. His grandson.

  “I didn’t know that you had returned from Kaleo. It’s good to see you,” Brahanu said, hugging him.

  “I’m glad ta see ya, too.” His voice cracked with the words.

  Brahanu ushered him in, closing the door behind. Unswaddling Eytan, she held him out to the trembling hands of his grandfather for the first time.

  “By the gods, Brahanu, he looks just like his Papa…like Itai,” he said, holding Eytan close to his chest. “He’s beautiful. Itai would be proud of his son just like I was of him.”

  “He was small when I birthed him, Father Tioch. But he’s grown strong, just like his father.”

  “Itai was the same when he was born. Weren’t that way once he was a man grown, but he was small and a bit sickly in the beginnin’. My Lillian thought we’d lose him like his siblin’s. But the gods blessed us with Itai. All of us.”

  “He was that and more, Father Tioch, and he loved his papa. I can still feel him around us. Itai will never leave my mind or my heart.”

  He sat on the divan, rocking Eytan in his arms. Tioch looked out of place, allowing his softer side to emerge. He always appeared rough and even unreasonable at times. His heart was contrary to that, especially when it came to his son. Now, it was the same with his grandson, and seeing that loving side of him warmed Brahanu’s heart.

  “Naji’s wantin’ ta see him,” Tioch said, his voice barely a whisper. “Will ya bring him for her ta see?”

  Brahanu smiled, resting a hand on his arm. “We can take him for a visit now if you’d like. I know you’ll take the greatest care of him.”

  “I—I will. I’d like that a lot.” Tioch steeled himself against the sting of tears forming behind his eyes.

  Without further words, Brahanu swaddled Eytan again, following Tioch outside. They rode through the village, returning the greetings many offered as they passed. She observed Tioch from the corner of her eye, struggling to maintain his composure. She’d never seen him so vulnerable, and she saddened at the thought. He’d lost his only son, and soon, she’d be taking his grandson back to Nazil.

  When they arrived, she allowed him to take Eytan inside and left for her brother’s home. No longer would her mother be awaiting her or her father sitting at the hearth with his pipe. So much loss and pain plagued her home, and she regretted being unable to soothe it.

  “Brahanu?” Gali called out, coming from the kitchen. “You’ve returned so soon. Is everything all right? Where’s Eytan?”

  “He’s with his grandfather and Naji. I wanted them to have time with him alone. Tioch mustn’t feel I need to keep watch over him with Eytan. They need time to build a strong bond that’s independent of any other. While they visit, I thought to return here.”

  Gali nodded, leading her to the kitchen. “It’s good to do so. Tioch suffers much and misses his son. Having Eytan with him will aid with his healing. Come, I’ve just made some honeycakes.”

  “Honeycakes? Is Ameya finished with her studies?”

  “No, she’s still giving Nohek Berinon trouble. I feel that she’d rather stay alone in her chamber than to speak with anyone. She misses her parents, as do you, but she doesn’t know how to handle such sorrow. I thought about taking her to Kaleo to visit my family. We could stop in Spero along the way and visit Malkia. The trip might do her well.”

  “What does Julaybeim think of the idea?” Brahanu asked, taking a bite of honeycake.

  “He doesn’t think much of it. Julaybeim’s grown protective of late, of the both of us. I fear the battles and losses have taken their toll on him. He constantly checks my condition and attempts to restrict my movements. Now, with being Caretaker as well.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It all might be too much.”

  “Julaybeim has always been this way. With you being pregnant, he’ll take no chance. He might be a man grown, but he’s still much a young boy in need of Father’s guidance. Everything will be well in time. For all of us, Gali.”

  As she nodded, taking a seat next to Brahanu, a slamming door caused her to flinch.

  “Gali!”

  She met Brahanu’s eyes. “Not a good day,” she sighed.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” Gali said, standing to greet him.

  Julaybeim rushed in the room, and then halted, surprised to see Brahanu. He forced a smile, leaning to kiss her cheek before bringing Gali into a tight embrace. She offered a gentle kiss, but he drew her back into him, kissing her longer.

  As he moved away, Gali’s brow creased, staring at his troubled expression. “What happened, Julaybeim?” Gali said, lowering him to the bench and pouring him a glass of strong liquor.

  “Nothing to worry about. It’ll take time for Cazaal to heal. So much has been lost and most people aren’t trusting of the Nazilians…any Nazilians. Some wounds are slow to heal,” he said, looking at his sister. “I don’t think that you should mention Tardison or your marriage to Pentanimir. No one would understand why you’ve done this. With Itai’s loss so near…” he shook his head. Many would see this as a betrayal, Brahanu.”

  “Betrayal? They know Pentanimir. They know he stood with us and fought against his own people. He saved our sister, Julaybeim. If not for his warning, no one would’ve even known about the coming war. How could they see him as an enemy?”

  “He’s Nazilian. This is all they see. This is all that matters. Even with the Vereux’s death and Faélondul’s liberation, the Nazilians are still the enemy. The fact that Pentanimir sits as Zaxson doesn’t matter. When they look at you, they think of Itai, a son of Cazaal. He was only just buried, and you’ve already wed someone else…a Nazilian.”

  “Was this the topic of your meeting?” Gali asked, rubbing his back.

  “It was supposed to be about trade and rebuilding the village. However, it deviated to the Nazilians and never returned to course. Even with most of the Nazilian villages that used to surround us destroyed, they point to Spero. Hosdaq and Osmara are visiting in seven suns. How will they be received with such fear still skewing our judgement?”

  “Brother, I can’t hide my son and my husband forever. I won’t bring them here now out of respect for Itai and Tioch, but I refuse to hide the love I hold for Pentanimir. The lands are free, and I won’t behave as though Draizeyn yet rules.”

  “She’s right, Julaybeim,” Gali said. “Everyone needs to realize and accept the changes that have taken place.” She took his hand, turning him around to face her. “Too many lives were lost to usher in this new peace. Now that we have it, we shouldn’t act contrariwise.”

  “I hear your words and agree with them, but they refuse to listen to me. The pain is too near for them. In time, much can be changed, but I won’t rush it. Give them time to grieve and comprehend what has truly taken place. Some have been subjugated so long, they’ve forgotten what true freedom is.”

  “Then, mayhaps I should return to Nazil. I’ll allow Tioch and Naji more time with Eytan, but before the next full moon, I’m going to join my husband and son.”

  “You can’t mean to return. The Guardians said that your place was here.”

  “Cazaal will always be my home, and I plan on coming often. But I refuse to remain where both my sons and husband aren’t welcome. You have Gali beside you, and it warms me to see it. I only have ghosts to keep me company. I miss Itai, Julaybeim, but I miss Pentanimir and Tardison, too.”

  Matters of the Heart

  The sun burst into the horizon, creating a kaleidoscope of colors against the walls. As the warming rays continued their climb, the darkened chamber illuminated. Pentanimir slowly closed his eyes, then reopened them as the darkness that surrounded him s
urrendered to the light.

  He sat at the table near the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Resting his feet on a hassock, he leaned back, not asleep, but not fully awake, either. He couldn’t rest, and the fatigue was getting the best of him.

  When Tardison cooed, Pentanimir smiled, seeing his tiny fist raise into the air. Yawning, he slid his bare feet to the floor, rubbing the weariness from his eyes.

  Pentanimir reached for Tardison’s bottle, and then paused, his eyes resting on the figure of the Nazilian god sitting on the table.

  “Was any of it true?” he asked. “Was there any part of my life, what I was taught, was any of it true? Or was this web of deceit meticulously spun to keep me, no, to keep us , all of us under control and so filled with hate, that we’d do anything, give everything for the glory of Nazil,” he whispered, thinking, lamenting and trying to sort out the divergent aspects of his life.

  After taking a deep breath, he picked up the figurine.

  “The god of war,” he said, stroking the smooth, dark wood. He’d loved the carved figures his father had given to his children. All of them. “Naldon, Crissu, Temian, Danimore and Thalassa,” he muttered. He thought about his father most of all, wondering how Manifir was able to survive Nazil’s malevolence. The evil that had been born here, was nurtured here, and yet remained.

  He and his family were disparate from Nazil’s former leaders. Through the Guardians, they had been given an opportunity to correct the wrongs of his people and unite Faélondul. However, Pentanimir wasn’t naïve. Significant portions of the Nazilian population opposed his rule. An apostate, he was called, denouncing the teachings of the Four. The four false gods the Cha created, to corrupt and control their minds.

  “Lies,” he said, closing his eyes. As he leaned back again, a knock brought him from his reflections.

  “Come.”

  “Brother, are you all right?” Danimore asked, noticing his forlorn expression.

  “More ghosts of the past, and dubiety for the future.”

  “Ghosts? Are your dreams still haunted? Has nothing we’ve done lifted the weight of the burden you carry?”

  “It’ll pass, Dani. This is merely the beginning of Faélondul’s emancipation. The war will appear simple in comparison to what we’ll soon face. It’ll require time for not only our people, but also for us to acclimate to the myriad changes in the lands.”

  “You aren’t alone, Pentanimir. We all stand with you. The majority of Nazilians appeared receptive to your proclamations. We were aware that everyone wouldn’t embrace the new direction of the lands. They’re too enmeshed in their hatred to allow reason to find them. The Cha’s teachings are the only words reverberating in both their hearts and minds.”

  “Teachings? They inculcated us with lies. The Cha deliberately led our people astray. From the beginning, they guided us toward the maleficence in their own hearts. We were but children when their treachery began fueling us with their hatred whilst extoling the Nazilians’ preeminence.” Pentanimir shook his head. “Even as children, we felt that something was out of place. Our hearts wouldn’t accept their corrupted teachings or embitter us toward the people of these lands.” He met Danimore’s eyes, searching for the answers that he couldn’t find within himself.

  “Why, Dani? What’s intrinsic to Nazilians that elevates us above all others? Why were the Cha’s teachings so easily accepted?”

  “The answer isn’t within me. The Cha were practiced and adept orators. Our people believed that the Cha were mortal conduits for the gods. Through their brotherhood, Nazil was lifted from an impoverished existence to a flourishing community. The Cha touted their gods’ guidance as the reason for Nazil’s elevation and dominance. In such circumstances, no one questioned the veracity of those gods or could’ve known they were of the Cha’s own design.

  “We’re taught to trust our leaders, trust the Cha, and know our place in these lands. When that place is above all others, no one moves so quickly to reorder that position.”

  He nodded, ruminating on Danimore’s statements. His thoughts mirrored his brother’s, but hearing them spoken aloud, in a voice not his own, confirmed the feeling. He needed that confirmation, to know there were others with a like heart that the evils of his people hadn’t penetrated.

  Tardison’s low cry brought him from those troubling contemplations. His smile returned, watching his son wriggle in his bed. Pentanimir lifted him from his cradle and then chuckled as Tardison greedily suckled the bottle.

  “When is Brahanu arriving?” Danimore asked.

  “She’s sending a bird when she’s ready. I’ll have a retinue of guards deployed to meet her caravan. Cazaal is still healing, and Tioch needs time with his grandson. Even so, I hope that her return is swift. Having her here with me would make this transition easier.”

  “Brahanu is the Zaontras of Nazil, and you need her at your side. There’s strength in the love that you share.” Danimore paused, resting a hand on Pentanimir’s shoulder. “Allow Zeta and me to keep Tardison with us. This isn’t a duty for the Zaxson.”

  “No.” He smiled. “This is a duty for a father. Tardison will remain with me a while longer, and Zeta can assist during the day as she has. I know that he needs her milk, but he needs me most of all. I’m supposed to guide him, Dani. He’s not like any infant that I’ve seen. When I look into his eyes, I feel a presence there, one beyond that of his years.”

  Danimore stroked the one white patch of hair atop Tardison’s head.

  “Your son bares the Guardians’ mark, Brother. There’s no other like him in all the lands. His knowledge might be beyond the both of us. It won’t be known, until it is. He’s beautiful, and growing stronger with each rise of the sun. Tardison needs you and his mother. She must return soon and take her place at your side.”

  Kumasi

  Déshì scanned the common room at the inn, finding a small unoccupied table. The raucous crowd was nearly deafening as he nudged his companion’s arm, jutting his chin toward the corner.

  Since the war’s end, news surged across the small village like waves from a turbulent sea against the crags. Although Déshì and Weisheng weren’t Kumasians, they’d always frequented the village, even before the Vereuxs’ defeat.

  They hadn’t trekked into Kumasi recently, instead camping on its borders, listening for any news that might signal an uprising or dissension. It was time to change that. Unlike the other cities and villages previously occupied by Nazilians, Kumasians didn’t care who frequented the village. So long as they had coin to spend, wares to trade, or tales to share, they were welcome.

  As the two moved to sit, utterances from a nearby table claimed their attention. Over the songs of an inebriated gleeman, well past his prime, and the hoots and shouts at serving maids weaving between tables, Déshì could scarcely make out any of the hushed conversation. However, he made a note of the three men seated at the table: two with their cowls up, even in the warm room. His eye gesture caused Weisheng to take closer notice. They recognized the third man, but neither recalled from where. Although neither spoke it, the mention of pythonesses and usurpers revealed the probable topic of that secret conversation.

  Before Weisheng could feel the hardness of his chair beneath him, he caught a giggling lass as she found a place on his lap. Her skilled hands moved swiftly, finding what she wanted while planting a fiery kiss on his lips.

  “Been ages, Weis,” the woman said, pushing her silvery-white tresses from her face. Her pale eyes stared into his, the longing and anticipation unmistakable.

  “Arianwen,” Weisheng managed after freeing his lips from the woman. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “Where ya been?” she asked, glancing around. “And where’s that other one? That’n there’s a tree every lass in Kumasi been wantin’ ta climb.”

  Déshì chuckled at that, providing the answer since Weisheng’s lips were occupied again. “Amare’s brother is the new Caretaker. It might be some time before he’s free to visit.
However, I’ll be sure to inform him of his popularity.”

  Arianwen craned around, winking at Déshì. “Got somethin’ waitin’ fer that one, don’t cha doubt. But Weis here gots a special place in my heart.”

  When he attempted to respond, she smothered him with another kiss. “Don’t cha worry none tho, Desh. Yer knowin’ how ta please a woman right, just ain’t willin’ ta do so often ‘nough for my likin’. Ain’t no men ‘round here like tha two of ya. Hells, thought ya’ll forgot all ‘bout me. Then again…” her hand stroked between Weisheng’s thighs. “Can’t no one here take all ya got ‘tween them legs and put ya down like I do. Yer knowin’ that.”

  Déshì flashed Weisheng an impatient glance. Regardless of his body’s urgings, now wasn’t the time to satiate those needs, no matter how much he wanted to.

  Arianwen was Weisheng’s favorite distraction when he visited the village. Although Déshì’s preference wasn’t Nazilian women, even he’d commented on her subtle allure. Arianwen wasn’t lacking in wit, either. After Weisheng spent a few turns of the glass testing her endurance, she’d collapse in exhaustion, recovering for the next round. When she sipped the liquor he’d always bring, she’d nestle into his arms, chatting about the local happenings and new visitors in Kumasi. They’d learned some usable information from her in the past, and hoped for more of the same now.

  Weisheng smiled, gliding a hand down her back. Arianwen was a comely woman, and her shorter stature and fuller figure complemented him perfectly. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Déshì, with a stockier and more muscular build. Weisheng appreciated a shorter woman, and if her figure was rounded, it was all the better. The thought of Arianwen’s perfect form caused her smile to grow, as she felt the evidence of his increased arousal. When she leaned in to kiss him again, Déshì cleared his throat.