The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “Beg pardon, my dear,” Weisheng said. “Business first, and then our pleasure.”

  “Take me up there now and git ‘em both done at once.” She giggled, signaling to a barmaid.

  Weisheng kissed her cheek as he raised her up from his lap, pulling at the tightness in his crouch for comfort. “Ensure you’re free for the next two nights,” he said, placing some coins in her hand. “Take a long bath and use that oil I like. I want you fresh and untouched. You know how I hate to share.”

  Arianwen met his dark, almond-shaped eyes, leaning closer so he could have a better view of her bust. After tracing the glyphs on the shorn sides of his scalp with her fingertips, she flittered through his long, raven hair, whispering, “Been savin’ it fer ya, Weis. Ain’t none here can fill me like ya do. Got me spoiled and needin’ more of ya. One of these days, ya oughtta take me wit ya. We’d make some fine babes, we would. With yer golden skin and dark eyes, wouldn’t be no finer babes in the lands.”

  Weisheng winked, patting her arse. “Keep doing how you do, and that might just happen.”

  He watched the sway of her hips as she walked away. Just viewing the roundness of her arse through the tight dress had him wishing that he could take her to a room right now.

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” Déshì chided. “She’s playful enough, but she cares about you.”

  Weisheng shook his head, signaling for the barmaid who’d been stopped by a few rowdy men, copping a feel and no doubt making arrangements for the evening.

  “There’s no harm in it,” Weisheng said. “Arianwen’s not just some tavern doxy, that’s just her lot. Not many ways for a woman to earn a decent living. Besides, you’ve got Natelegé waiting for you.” He grinned. “I’m not quite ready to give up the luxuries of bachelorhood.”

  “As if you ever would be,” Déshì said, shaking his head. “We need to learn what we can before trekking to the Animus Wood. I’m going to contact Symeon as well.” He glanced around, scrutinizing the patrons. “When we spoke after his wedding, Symeon said that he might have need of us. There’s been some concern over the rogues amassing near Rhoyden, and murmurs of sedition.”

  “Just another reason to take good care of Arianwen. She might have some information regarding such rumors, or about those three over there. Amare was right, we need to be cautious. Even though the former Zaxson treated the Kumasians much like humans, they’re still Nazilian. They might have a better life with Sir Benoist as Zaxson, but some had family and friends in those destroyed villages. Regardless of how their lives have improved, those losses could supersede that. We need to stay alert, and ensure our blades are honed.”

  Déshì nodded, peering over at the three men again. He tried recalling who the man was with them, but couldn’t remember how or why he knew him. It wasn’t from Kumasi, but he was familiar, somehow. Kaleo perhaps , he thought, pulling a cheroot from his cloak.

  “I hadn’t heard about a caretaker being assigned to Kumasi before we took leave. Did Amare tell you anything?” Weisheng asked.

  “Not yet. Elidyr will most likely continue handling the affairs until some of the turmoil dies down in the other cities and villages. Kumasi doesn’t have much to offer Nazil.”

  Weisheng leaned back, scanning the common room. “Kumasi might’ve meant little to Draizeyn beyond the mulct and crops they provided, but I doubt the same will be true for Sir Benoist.” He motioned to the table with the three men huddled again. “Especially when we find out more about them and their conversation.”

  “Indeed. You might end up sharing your fair lass after all.” Déshì grinned.

  “Not before I’ve had my fill.” He winked.

  Intuition and Discovery

  Danimore moaned, enjoying the lingering waves of his completion. He leaned forward, kissing his wife before moving to her side. Zeta slid closer, snuggling into his chest.

  “You still overwhelm me,” he said.

  “As you do me,” she said, kissing him tenderly and then slipping from the bed. After pouring a drink for them both, she sat on the bed’s edge, staring down at him. Zeta took a drink from her cup, unable to keep her mind free from more troubling concerns. They’d overcome numerous obstacles to be together, and when she thought about where she’d been in comparison to where she was, their blessings were incalculable. Howbeit, she wasn’t naïve. Their conflicts weren’t at an end, and one concern plagued her more than any other.

  Zeta sighed, shifting on the bed. “Dani, did you notice Nikolina at the feast?”

  He had noticed, and not just this night, but also several others. With the public appearances, convocations, and feasts, Nikolina had been a guest at the citadel far more often than he would’ve liked. He wasn’t comfortable with her presence, but he couldn’t deny her or her father. After reneging on their marriage, he felt that he owed them more than he’d ever be capable of repaying.

  During those events, he could feel her stare: following him, judging him, both loathing and loving him all at once. He understood those emotions and regretted being the cause of them. Asking for her pledge was wrong, especially knowing that Nikolina loved him. However, in his desperation to protect Zeta and Raithym, it had been the only viable solution. At least, he believed so at the time.

  “I didn’t notice,” he lied. As soon as he spoke the words, his regret returned. This time, for deceiving his wife.

  “It’s her stare,” Zeta said. “She always finds us in the crowd. She stands there, glaring at us and at our son. It’s as if she’s formulating some plan, or envisioning cruelties that would rival the Vereuxs’.”

  Danimore shrugged, attempting to project placidity when the opposite was true.

  “Dani, she gives me pause. I can’t explain the warning in my heart, but it’s there. It feels like a heavy weight, a tangible thing that can’t be ignored or lifted.”

  “A warning? Why?”

  “She loathes the sight of us together and it scares me.”

  “Not everyone in Nazil appreciates the new edicts and direction for Faélondul. It’ll take time for them to acclimate to these changes,” he said, caressing her back. “After centuries of dominance over the humans, many won’t accept their new equality. When the Nazilians see humans and half-humans in the city, it isn’t as slaves, but equals. Not only our Zaxson, but also the Nakshij are married to humans. This is the first time that the Zaontras and Shijahn aren’t Nazilian. Don’t assign too much concern to the stares of a few. In time, they’ll become accustomed to all of us.”

  “I understand, but it’s different with Nikolina, Dani. I can feel the burn of her scorn when she looks at me. It’s more than my being human. Mayhaps that’s a deeper element of that scorn, but the root must be the feigned pledge. Not only wasn’t it honored, but then you married a former slave. A position that she should hold was given to a human. Everyone in Nazil has heard about my treatment, and yet I stand in a place of honor as Shijahn beside you…her place.”

  “No one is more deserving of a place beside me than you,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. “Never think of yourself as less, Zeta. The mistake was mine in offering such a ruse to protect our family. You advised against it, but Pentanimir and I thought that it was the only way to protect you. I can’t change what’s past, but I can work to make amends for the harm I’ve caused.”

  Zeta nodded, but she didn’t agree. The ire festering in Nikolina’s heart wouldn’t easily be soothed. She loved Danimore still. Zeta could see that love every time Nikolina looked at him. Then, when Nikolina looked at her, antipathy replaced that look of love. Zeta grieved for her and feared her all at once. She understood the heart of a woman scorned.

  He set his cup on the table and then drew her back down to him. “In time, all wounds heal, my love. I hope that healing comes swiftly for Nikolina. But we can’t permit this to take from our happiness. We were in love and didn’t intend to injure anyone. If we hadn’t returned to Nazil, no one would’ve known.”

  “But Nazil is our
place,” Zeta said.

  “Our place, Zeta: yours, mine, and our children. We were meant to be here, and I’ll see you happy. You are my wife openly, Zeta Benoist, and we have a beautiful son and will soon be blessed with another,” he said, resting his hand on her rounding abdomen.

  She nodded again, stroking his hand.

  “Now, we need to rest,” he said. “Pentanimir has called an early meeting, and I fear that we’ve lingered awake too long already.”

  With that, she flashed him a mischievous grin, and then disappeared beneath the covers. Before Danimore could question, he sucked in a sharp breath, exhaling in a moan. Indeed, the night was short.

  Danimore was the last to arrive at the council meeting. He bowed respectfully, hurrying into the chamber. “Forgive me, Zaxson, council. Sleep didn’t come easily for me. I beg your pardon.”

  Pentanimir grinned, glancing at his brothers and sister. “You speak true, Nakshij. Mayhaps the same disturbance that interrupted my rest also kept you from yours.”

  Danimore reddened, hearing the scattered chuckles in the room.

  “Forgive me, Brother, I jest,” Pentanimir said. “A much-needed respite from important business. And we have much to discuss.”

  “We do,” Nzuri said, steering the council back on course.

  Pentanimir cleared his throat. “We were discussing the Caretaker of Yarah before you arrived.”

  “Caretaker? Has one been officially assigned, then?” Danimore asked.

  “No, not as yet,” Temian said. “Arianna’s father still holds the position, but his appointment hasn’t been confirmed, and we’ve yet to find an adequate replacement.”

  Symeon’s brow creased. He hadn’t met Urdan Swayne, so he couldn’t comment on his character. Therefore, he remained silent.

  “What are your thoughts, Symeon?” Thalassa asked. “Your expression betrays you.”

  “When you’ve spoken about the Caretaker, it’s been as a man of great honor and conviction.” Symeon looked at Pentanimir. “He was a respected friend of your father and kept his confidence.”

  Pentanimir nodded.

  “Temian, didn’t Urdan Swayne take you into his home as a child and raise you as his own, knowing that you were half-human?”

  “Aye, he did. He’s never treated me as less, and always wanted me pledged to his daughter.”

  “Then why isn’t he Yarah’s official Caretaker? He’s surely earned our trust and oversees Yarah’s affairs justly. His daughter is married to Temian and his morals are aligned with ours. Isn’t Urdan loyal not only to you, Zaxson, but also to the cause in which you uphold?”

  Nods were seen around the room. The choice was obvious, although no one had spoken it.

  “If no one disagrees, I’ll send a bird and ask Lord Swayne about his willingness to retain the position. If he’s receptive, I’ll issue the official documents, and the ceremony will be held in a full moon.”

  With no one in opposition, Pentanimir made a note and then regarded Temian.

  “You mentioned your concern for Wosen. What’s troubling you?”

  “Wosen’s been acting strangely of late. I’m concerned that his past treatment here might be affecting him more than he’s willing to admit or even acknowledge.”

  “The time he spent in the dark chamber and the cells?” Pentanimir asked.

  “Yes, and the torture he endured from our uncle and those who did his bidding.”

  Pentanimir sighed, thinking about not only Wosen, but Oxilon and Yannick, too. The torture Wosen sustained at the hands of his uncle and his former friend was abominable. The Guardians had healed Wosen’s outer wounds, but the deepest remained internal and not as easily mended.

  “Is he still visiting the chamber?” Pentanimir asked.

  “He does, and those visits have increased. My mother does well to calm his mind, but it can’t last. I’ve spoken with him on numerous occasions and asked Nzuri of the same. Still, Wosen won’t relent. He trains hard, and is exceptional with his duties, but I’m worried about the debilitating memories inundating his mind.”

  Pentanimir shook his head. “I’ve ordered the dark chamber dismantled. Once the temple is completed, the masons will construct a wall sealing it off completely. We have no need of such vile contraptions or the memories they cause. Beilzen has spoken about his time held there, too.”

  “Yes,” Nzuri said. “Wosen has come to me many times for prayers and meditation techniques. When Kuhani visits Nazil, I’ll ask him to counsel Wosen. Kuhani’s methods are far beyond my skills. It’ll take time, but I’m certain he can reach him. Wosen hasn’t even slept in his chambers recently. Sleep is elusive and his mind won’t calm.”

  “Temian, I’d like for you to continue monitoring Wosen,” Pentanimir said. “Don’t interfere with his activities, but evaluate them. He respects you and will heed your words.”

  “Let us hope that respect holds,” Temian said. “I’ll keep watch over the son of Hosdaq, and my mother will, too. They have a strong bond and she looks on him as a son.”

  Pentanimir nodded approvingly, turning to Nzuri. “How’s your work with the scrolls? Are you able to decipher them?”

  “With Thalassa’s aid, the task has become more of a pleasure than a frustration. We’ve worked more quickly than I anticipated. There’s much to do, but just as with Kuhani, Thalassa is a thorough and patient teacher. The Mehlonii language is challenging.”

  “Be’tam amelyko, ” [59] she said, thanking him in the arcane language.

  “Amelyko de’ vwan’tayn, ” [60] he managed in return.

  “It certainly seems like Thalassa has been teaching you well,” Pentanimir said. “We’re all interested in what the scrolls will reveal.”

  “As are we, Zaxson. This is but the beginning, and there are more scroll tubes and codices than can be counted,” Nzuri said. “When I inspected the temple, I discovered a small opening behind a half-hanging tapestry. It appeared that someone might’ve gone to retrieve something once kept there. There were several scrolls that remained, along with a map of sorts.”

  “A map? To where?” Pentanimir leaned forward.

  “Sanctium is what’s written. It lies some distance across the Nazil River. It might speak of the large thicket of trees across the vast waters, but I’m not certain.”

  “Temian, did the Cha ever speak about such a place during your time at the temple?” Pentanimir asked.

  “Not in my hearing. However, much was kept from me in the temple. The Elder Cha had many secrets; this is certain.”

  “Leave the map with me,” Pentanimir said. “I feel there’s much and more to learn about this before the end of it.”

  “Indeed,” Nzuri said, curiosity awakened.

  Nikolina

  Nikolina sat in her chamber, staring out the window. She watched the activity in the streets whilst listening to the clamor of people going about their lives. That simple activity appeared more an unconquerable feat that she felt incapable of accomplishing. Since the presentation and feast honoring the new Zaxson and Zaontras, Nikolina had refused to leave the refuge of her home. Too many changes had taken place so abruptly. She was unable to cope with the magnitude of those changes, or the impact and direction their reality had sent her young life.

  Images of Danimore clouded her mind and similarly, her eyes. It wasn’t long past that her father announced his meeting with Oxilon Benoist. Danimore had asked to marry her and fulfilled her truest desire. She loved him, and he was the only man in Nazil that she’d ever permitted to enter her heart. When her father informed her of the news, it was the happiest she’d ever been. Now, she was empty.

  Nikolina couldn’t remove the image from her mind or the harrowing words that followed. She’d watched helplessly as the couple was introduced to the masses. “Lord Danimore and Lady Zeta Benoist, Nakshij and Shijahn of Nazil,” she murmured as almost a question. As soon as the words escaped her lips, the tears streamed down her face.

  Cries turned to angry groans as h
er delicate hands balled into fists. Repeatedly, she pounded the wooden table at her side. The pain was confirmation that she was alive, though in her heart, it felt otherwise. She pounded again, even harder, and then winced when the pain thundered up her arm.

  “Danimore and Zeta Benoist,” she said louder, her features contorting into a mask of abhorrence. “A human! A slave whore!” she shouted, allowing the bottled rage to be released.

  “A slave! A whore!” she repeated, grabbing the stool at her feet, and slamming it against the wall.

  She whipped around with eyes full of both rage and anguish. “A human!” she shrieked before hitting the table again, lacerating the skin. She cried out, hearing bone surely break under the strength of the blow. Nikolina nursed the crooked finger and screamed, collapsing to the floor.

  “Nikolina,” Allister said, running through the door. He rushed to her side, helping her over to the bed.

  “What’s the matter, my dearest? Nikolina?” he said, wiping away her tears. He gasped when he looked down, noticing the blood oozing from the fresh wound. “Gods! What have you done?”

  She continued to cry, holding onto her wounded hand.

  “It’s all right, my dearest. I promise, it’ll be all right,” he whispered, cradling her in his arms.

  Allister fought back his emotion, kissing her tenderly before rising and summoning an attendant. He returned to Nikolina’s side, enfolding her into his arms.

  “Please, my dearest, why have you done this? What’s the matter?”

  Her lips quivered as she opened her mouth to respond. After several silent moments, she said, “Danimore.”

  His heart ached at not only her pain, but for being the cause of it. Had he accepted the pledge when first presented, his daughter would’ve stood next to the Nakshij on the citadel’s grand balcony.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know that this was the desire of your heart. I’m sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you accept?” She hurled her words as an accusation.