“They slaughtered our Zaxson and his children. These once honorable men cast aside our ways and our gods for the darkness. You only need to look at those at their side to recognize what dwells in their hearts. The Zaxson and Nakshij have taken human wives. Human!”
With that proclamation, louder shouts erupted as men stood from their seats in agreement.
A man yelled from a corner of the room: “That First Chosen he selected over worthy Nazilians is a former slave, I hear!”
Another man called out: “And the wife of the Nakshij was a slave whore in the citadel!”
Molag pointed at the men, nodding. “All true! Not only that, my friends. There are more egregious crimes being perpetrated by these once honorable men of Nazil. There’s an abomination now over the temple. He believes not in the Four, and will have no worship of them in the white city.”
Screams of protest rang out as more men leapt to their feet. Arguments broke out when some defended the Zaxson. It started as simple shouting and shoving, but it didn’t take long before a punch was thrown, and fists began to fly.
Aronin and his friend watched it all from a darkened corner of the inn’s common room. They continued to drink, noting who was saying what.
“It would appear that Urdan has reason for concern,” Eithrig commented, quietly. “Molag won’t be easily silenced. He looks for allies.”
“He looks to sow discord and take position over the village. If this continues, he’ll find the support that he needs. These drunks in their cups will follow him to the very steps of the citadel,” Aronin said, shaking his head. “Molag is dangerous. Not only to Urdan, but to the peace and stability of Faélondul.”
“What are you going to do, Aronin? You see how he manipulates these men.”
“We watch and learn, my friend. Soon, I’ll visit my cousin. Pentanimir must know what he’s facing. This is no passing threat; Molag means to incite war.”
“War?”
“Have you ever heard an orator so skilled and determined that didn’t use his words to incite violence? Molag inspires hatred as well as the Vereuxs themselves. He won’t be satisfied with causing minor turmoil. The thorn in Urdan’s side has become much more; it would seem.”
“Indeed,” Eithrig agreed, ducking a wooden stool flying over his head. “It’s time to take our leave.”
Aronin nodded as he stood, sidling along the wall to avoid the commotion.
“What are we to do now?” Eithrig asked, glancing back at the inn.
“You should return home. I’m certain that your wife and son have missed you.”
Eithrig halted. “Surely you won’t continue without me.”
“I wouldn’t have you involved in activities so inherently dangerous. Shyla would never forgive me if you were harmed.”
“No, Aronin, we do this together. Shyla will understand the importance of what lies ahead. If you aren’t successful, the peace we enjoy in Yarah, mayhaps in all Faélondul will be at risk. Molag is dangerous, and those who follow him will prove even more so. My heart is just as yours, and is in line with our new Zaxson. Your cousin doesn’t threaten our way of life, like Molag would have many believe. His is a better way, and allows freedoms for everyone, not only Nazilians. This isn’t an attack on us; it’s an end to the evils that we’ve accepted far too long. I wouldn’t be excluded from matters of this significance. You need me at your side.”
Eithrig’s sentiments touched him and he inclined his head, resuming their pace. There was much to consider, but Aronin had no idea where to begin. He looked back at the inn, still hearing the commotion from inside. Aronin noticed a group of guards rushing toward the building and took comfort that the insanity would soon be at an end.
For this night, anyway.
“Return home, Eithrig. I need to speak with Urdan.”
“Will you accept the position on the council, then?”
“That and more, my friend. ”
Sins of the Father
Pentanimir’s gaze rested on Danimore’s empty chair. He couldn’t concentrate on this meeting with thoughts of his brother and Zeta pervading his mind. Closing his eyes, he fought against the barrage of images and sounds. It was for naught. Just more ghosts to haunt his dreams whilst diminishing his resolve. Some wrongs could never be righted, and the illusory blood staining his hands couldn’t be cleansed. Forever he would see it…feel it…and suffer the doleful memories.
“Have you read the report, Pentanimir?” Temian said in a manner that let him know it wasn’t the first time he’d posed the question.
“For—forgive me,” Pentanimir said, taking a deep breath. “My mind was elsewhere. To what report do you refer?”
“The report from Yarah. We received a bird, and the message has given us pause,” Temian said, handing him the rolled parchment.
Thalassa nodded. “It seems that Urdan is facing more troubles with the council. Some aren’t pleased with his appointment or your place as Zaxson.”
“I give no care if they’re pleased or not. Urdan is the Caretaker and that’s not going to change,” Pentanimir said, reading the message in full. “Does anyone know this Molag, and can he cause Urdan significant grief?”
“I know of him,” Temian said. “He has a reputation in the village, and is a proud Nazilian, no doubt. If Draizeyn would’ve had a twin, it’d be this man. He can cause Father Urdan great grief. According to the message, Molag is attempting to cause division and discord.”
“Then we should regard him as a serious threat?” Pentanimir asked.
“Indeed.”
“What are we supposed to do? Humans have begun attacking Nazilians for the sport of it, upstarts would have my head and enslave all the humans again, and the villages and cities bicker over goods and leaders,” Pentanimir recounted. “You’d think the lands weren’t again free.”
“It’ll take time for the people to settle,” Symeon said. “Some Nazilians are angered that they’ve lost their slaves. They feel that you’ve elevated humans while lowering their status. Not only have the Caretakers been replaced, but you’re wed to a human with sons of a blended heritage. Even your First Chosen is one they’d consider nothing more than a servant.”
Pentanimir grinned. “Mayhaps they’d care to test their skill against yours and learn who’s truly superior.”
“A lesson I’d gladly provide.”
Temian and Thalassa chuckled, considering such a contest. On reflex, Temian rubbed his forehead, recalling his first sparring session with the formidable First Chosen.
As Pentanimir reached for more tea, Nzuri entered the chamber.
“Nzuri, how is Zeta?” Pentanimir asked.
“She sleeps. The swelling and bruising has diminished, but she still hasn’t awakened. Danimore refuses to leave her side, but he needs rest, Zaxson.”
“Does Dani know?” Thalassa asked.
Nzuri nodded, grimly. “He was there when his son was born, but Hushar had Micah rush him away.”
“Is Hushar certain about Zeta’s condition?” Pentanimir asked.
“Only the gods truly know,” Nzuri said. “She’s treated similar injuries and can only speculate. Howbeit, we must continue to pray. Once Zeta learns about her son, she’ll be devastated. Losing the ability to have another child might be an outcome she couldn’t bear.”
“I fear the same for Dani,’ Pentanimir said, solemnly. “He’ll forever blame himself for this tragedy. No words can soothe such an ache.”
“Are we to learn the truth of this, Brother?” Temian asked.
“It’s not my truth to tell. When he’s able, Dani will explain everything to you. They’ll both need all of us.”
“Zeta should return to the wood,” Thalassa said. “If Nzuri and Hushar have done everything they can, the Guardians may aid in her healing.”
“She won’t wake,” Nzuri said.
“Not yet, but once she does, she could go.”
Nzuri shook his head. “Zeta needs time to heal. Traveling to the Animus
Wood is far too long a trek. I’m certain that the Guardians could aid her, but not soon.”
“Arinak can take her. When my AvHotther [63] comes, I’ll ask him to inform the AsZar. If the possibility exists, we must try.”
“I’ll talk to Dani about it soon,” Pentanimir said, standing from his seat. “Nzuri, do you have some dream wine in your chamber?”
“I do, but Danimore won’t partake. He wants to be alert when Zeta awakens.”
“I understand, but he will drink it. Dani can do Zeta little good in his current state. After you’ve finished here, can you bring the wine to Dani’s chamber?”
“As you wish,” Nzuri said. “I’ll be only a moment.”
“Thank you, Nzuri. I need to see my brother. Please continue and I’ll speak with you on the morrow regarding your progress. Excuse me,” Pentanimir said, motioning for Symeon to remain as he left the chamber.
Pentanimir attempted to project an aplomb demeanor whilst traversing the corridors. Flipping his hair to his back, he straightened his stance, sorting through the morass of thoughts inundating him. He’d known they’d face hardships and opposition during this transition, but he couldn’t have begun to imagine such a tragedy. Neither Zeta nor Danimore deserved this, and Pentanimir blamed himself for suggesting the false pledge to Danimore. If he hadn’t followed his advice, none of this would’ve happened.
“What have I done?” Pentanimir murmured, walking across the covered bridge. Peering down into the courtyard, he paused, noticing Beilzen and Fáelán. Pentanimir smiled wistfully, observing the way Beilzen was playing with his son. Fáelán’s giggles were continuous as Beilzen swung him around, and then tickled and kissed him repeatedly. They loved each other, and witnessing that love both pleased and saddened him.
“Would Dani have played with his son the same?” Pentanimir lamented. With a parting glance, he proceeded to the chamber. Pentanimir wasn’t certain what to say or if he should speak at all. What he did know was that Danimore needed him, and that he’d do whatever was in his power to help him through this.
Danimore didn’t turn when Pentanimir entered the shuttered room. Though it was midday, the room was dimly lit. Only the light from the hearth illuminated the corner, casting shadowy impressions across the room. After allowing his eyes to adjust, Pentanimir inched closer, checking to see whether Danimore had finally fallen asleep. He was half-sitting on the chair and half-lying across Zeta: his head resting on her abdomen, where his son used to be.
Taking a steadying breath, Pentanimir did his best to contain his emotion.
“Ho—how’s Zeta?”
Danimore rose slightly, looking in his direction. His lips quivered, struggling to form the words. The dark swollen circles under his eyes were moist with tears. “Did Nzuri tell you? Did—did he tell you about our son?” His hoarse voice was weak.
“I’m sorry, Dani,” was all that he could manage, stifling his own tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s my fault. I’ve killed my son just like Father did his.”
Pentanimir staggered back a step, shaking his head. “No, Brother, no. You haven’t done anything wrong. Please. None of this is your fault.”
“My actions caused his death as surely as if I held a blade to his throat.” He wiped the wetness from his eyes, caressing Zeta’s hand. “They…they wouldn’t allow me to see him, to touch him, to kiss him, or hold him in my arms. They wouldn’t allow it. Hushar took him from me and wouldn’t allow me to see. I want my son, Pentanimir. I want Zeta to hold him. I want…I…” His words ended in a sob.
Pentanimir gripped him in a tight embrace, allowing him to cry in his arms. Only the sound of the brother’s dolorous laments resonated off the walls.
Pentanimir opened his eyes, glancing around the darkened corners. He gently leaned away, still holding Danimore’s arms. “I’m going to have Zeta moved to your chambers. You need to be in your own room where you can lay beside and comfort her.”
“She doesn’t want me anymore. When she learns about our son, she’ll leave me. It’s my fault, Brother. I’ve done this, and now, I’ll be left with nothing.”
“Zeta could never hate you. The love that you share is stronger than any tragedy that you might face. It’ll be difficult, but that love will see you through this, Dani, I promise.” Pentanimir lifted his face to meet his eyes. “You must think of Raithym, too. Take whatever time you need. We’re all here for you, Dani. Don’t ever forget that. Once you’ve had time to heal, you and Zeta will have another child. It won’t replace your son, but it’ll bring you happiness, just as Raithym has.”
Danimore shook his head, turning back to his wife. “I want to see my son, Pentanimir. He should be here with us.”
Pentanimir stared over at the bed, unable to force any sound from his throat. A pain erupted in his chest, twisting and singeing his heart. Wordlessly, he nodded, walking to the door. Pulling a cloth from the table, he wiped his face before joining his guard in the corridor.
“Arrange for an immediate transport of the Shijahn to her chambers,” he told his guard. “Make haste and await me there.”
“Yes sir, Zaxson.”
Pentanimir hastened to find Hushar, focused on his brother’s need over his own feelings of guilt and mourning. He didn’t know how or if he could soothe Danimore’s heart, but this was a first necessary step. Regardless of his trepidation, this, he had to do.
“Hushar,” Pentanimir said, entering her work room. “I’ve just left Dani, and…and he isn’t well.”
“I’m sorry. There was nothing that we could do. With the fall, her womb wouldn’t calm,” she said, sullenly.
“No one blames you, Hushar. Dani blames only himself.”
“I felt much the same when your father and I lost our first, Naldon,” she said. “Manifir’s heart broke when he returned and learned about our son’s death. We each blamed ourselves, just as Dani does now. It took time, but we were able to heal. In time, Dani and Zeta will heal, too. In time.”
Pentanimir could only nod, remembering when Temian had told him about their eldest brother: Manifir’s first son.
“Where is he?” he asked.
“Where’s who?”
“His son. Where’s Dani’s son?”
“He’s resting in the cool of the catacombs to await proper entombment.”
“I want him brought to Dani’s chamber. Has he been cleaned and prepared?”
“What? Zaxson—”
“I want him brought to me, Hushar, please. Can you ensure he’s tended and swaddled, and bring him to me?”
Her eyes widened, as they met his. “Pentanimir, the babe is barely over half a cubit. Zeta was six full moons, and he didn’t have time to grow.”
“That doesn’t matter. How is his appearance? Did he sustain any injuries during the fall?”
“No. He looks like any other infant, only very small and thin. His features and skin…I don’t…please, why—”
“Because Dani won’t be able to heal without it. He must hold his son, feel him in his arms, and know that he’s real. He needs to be with him in order to let him go. If Zeta were able, she’d need the same. It must be.”
She nodded her assent, thinking of holding her son in her arms. Danimore never had the opportunity to welcome his son into this world. She understood the need to be with him as he left it. “I’ll ensure that he’s ready and bring him to you.”
“Thank you. We’ll be in Dani’s chambers,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’m glad that you decided to stay with us, Hushar. My father was blessed to have you in his life.”
Pentanimir was relieved to see his guard waiting outside of Danimore’s chamber.
“Are they inside?”
“Yes, Sir, and Nzuri brought a vessel of wine, too.”
He inclined his head, slowly entering the room. He would have his brother drink the dream wine and rest. Danimore would hold his firstborn, and then he’d rest. That’s what Pentanimir prayed, and he repeated that prayer as he gentl
y closed the door.
He was gladdened to see Danimore nestled next to his wife. Zeta lie motionless, propped up by several soft cushions. Her thick, red hair drifted over her bare shoulders, and there was a soft blush to her cheeks. The extra weight she’d gained during the pregnancy filled her face, softening her already delicate features.
She’s beautiful , Pentanimir thought. He walked over to the table, pouring a cup of dream wine before moving to the bed.
“Has there been any change?”
Danimore didn’t turn, merely shaking his head.
“Dani, I’ve asked Hushar to bring your son.”
His head snapped up, turning to face him. “She—she’s going to bring him to us?”
“She is. Are you certain that you want to do this?”
“I’ve never been more certain. He’s my son, Pentanimir. Wouldn’t you want to hold and love your child?”
“Of course, I would. I just needed to ask, Brother. Hushar warns: your son is small.”
“I don’t care. He’s my—”
The soft knock caused Danimore to gasp, sitting up and staring at the door. As he glanced at Pentanimir, his puffy, red eyes lined with tears. “I…” his voiced cracked, unable to form his words.
“It’s all right,” Pentanimir said, moving to answer it.
When he opened the door, he nearly gasped, looking at the tiny bundle in Hushar’s arms. Nothing but his head was visible, sticking out from his swaddle.
The babe’s features were sharp and tight, with barely enough fat on his face to soften his protruding cheekbones. Pentanimir gently stroked beneath the babe’s ear where the skin had torn. So cold , he thought. So still .
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 97