The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “You comin’, too, Aunt Dalia?” Fáelán asked, launching himself at her.

  “If your father attends, I’ll be at his side,” she giggled, grasping Beilzen’s hand.

  Wosen’s face darkened. “Beilzen, may I have a word?”

  He sighed again. “Dalia, will you watch Fáelán while I speak with Sir Neufmarche?”

  She nodded.

  Beilzen took another calming breath, following Wosen from the clearing. After moving a distance away, Wosen halted abruptly, spinning around to face him.

  “What are you trying to do?” Wosen asked, accusingly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean. Are you pursuing a relationship with Sarai’s sister?”

  “We’re friends, Wosen, a gift little known to me of late. We’ve grown closer, yes, and we care for each other.” He raised his hand, stifling Wosen’s coming retort. “Don’t presume to lecture me, Wosen, please. I’m aware that we can’t forge a true relationship.”

  “You know, but does Dalia? Have you told her about your inability to provide her with children or intimacies? Does she understand what happened to you and why?”

  Beilzen’s face flushed, biting back his harsher response. “Not as yet. We were discussing the same when you arrived with Fáelán. I don’t need you or anyone else to remind me about my castration or inability to please a woman. I wake with that painful reality each sunrise and it plagues me even as I sleep. But that inadequacy…that defect doesn’t affect my heart or desire. Neither have been severed as my manhood was. I still have the capacity to love, Wosen, do you understand? My yearnings and desire for women hasn’t changed. I prayed that such needs would leave me, but Dalia ignited my heart, and it rages for her even now.” He looked away for a moment, steeling his resolve. Speaking that truth aloud caused despondency to nearly overwhelm him.

  “Don’t worry, Sir Neufmarche, I’m going to reveal everything to her. Once I do, I’ll lose again. Does that please you, Chosen of Nazil? Are you gladdened that the only love I’ll experience for the entirety of my life is that of my father and son? Is that a fitting propitiation for my transgressions?”

  Wosen’s expression softened, looking at him with empathy. “No. I don’t revel in anyone’s suffering…not even someone like you. You weren’t the only one tortured in the dark chamber. I hung there first, and endured more and suffered longer than you did. I’m not attempting to tear at a wound that yet lies fresh…not like you would’ve done. I’m asking you to think about what you’re doing before you hurt someone else. There’s heartache and disappointment in Dalia’s past, too. Do you truly want to exacerbate the pain she’s yet suffering?”

  Beilzen looked at him curiously, ruminating on his last statements. “I’d never intentionally hurt Dalia. I didn’t plan on opening my heart to any woman ever again. I know what I am, Sir Neufmarche, and I’ll be telling Dalia the same. She deserves much more than I could give, no matter how I wish it otherwise.”

  “Then tell her,” Wosen said. “If there’s any goodness in your heart, you won’t delay.”

  Wosen turned and then paused. “I’ll take Fáelán to the market with Hibret and me. Tell her, Beilzen,” he repeated, resuming his pace.

  Beilzen waited until Wosen emerged from the bushes, hand in hand with Fáelán. He waved at his father, leaving the gardens with Wosen. Once the doors closed, Beilzen took several sobering breaths before returning to Dalia.

  “Come, join me,” she offered, sweetly. “Would you like some more wine?”

  “No, thank you,” he said, clearing his throat. “There’s something important that I need to tell you. Wosen reminded me of the urgency of my words, and I shouldn’t have waited this long, Dalia. I’m sorry.”

  “Wosen? What words?”

  He held her hands, rubbing his thumbs over her smooth, ebon skin, being entranced by the beauty of the contrast between the two.

  “Dalia, before Wosen arrived, I was trying to tell you something. Firstly, I didn’t intend to mislead you or to hold you so dearly in my heart.” He looked into her eyes. “But that’s where you reside, and I doubt that you’ll ever leave it. I—I’ve been foolish and selfish, allowing my heart to overrule my mind. Regardless of how much I wish it, I won’t ever be able to give you what you deserve or desire. It’s not because I don’t want to,” he said, quickly. “It’s because I’m no longer able to.”

  “What? How could you know my desires or your inability to fulfill them? I don’t care about what’s past or your position. I care about you, Beilzen.”

  His heart sank, astonished by not only her sentiments, but the warmth and sorrow he felt while hearing them. How cruel fate could be, bringing her into his life now. He had to make her understand for both their sakes.

  “Dalia, I’m not talking about material possessions or coin. The Zaxson has given me a prominent and generous position in the citadel. I do well now, much better than ever before.”

  “Then what?”

  “It might seem too soon to mention bonds and intimacies, but I’m left with little choice. We haven’t known each other long enough for such considerations, but I could never offer myself to you in this manner. No matter what may lie in my heart, I can only offer you my friendship and nothing more.”

  She released his hands, turning away. “You’ve learned that I can’t give you children. I would’ve told you, Beilzen. I would have. I—I just wanted to enjoy what we have for as long as possible. It’s been far too long since anyone has wanted me for who I am, and not what I could do for them. In truth, I’m not certain that anyone ever has.”

  Beilzen’s mouth gaped, hearing her soft sobs. He was the one lacking, not her. He enfolded her in his arms, as she continued to weep.

  “No, Dalia, no. I didn’t know until this very moment. It’s not you, truly,” he said, kissing her softly. “It’s not you.”

  “You don’t care?”

  “No. I don’t think that would’ve mattered even before my…my mistreatment. All I know is how I feel about you.” He drew her in tighter. “Dalia, you’re lacking nothing. I couldn’t…I don’t…I—I can’t sire children, not anymore. Fáelán is the only child I’ll ever have. I can offer you my heart, but love isn’t enough. No matter how much I wish it were so,” he said, kissing her again.

  “Take your hands off her,” Sarai shouted. “Get away from my sister!”

  Beilzen jerked away, startled by her silent approach. He quickly stood, glancing from one to the other.

  “Sarai? What madness is this?” Dalia demanded, stepping in between them.

  “Madness?” she yelled, turning on Beilzen. “How dare you touch my sister.”

  “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend. I only—”

  “Forgive? You abuse everyone in the citadel, and then ask for forgiveness? How dare you touch her! My sister isn’t some slave that you can rape and torture. Get away from us!”

  “Sarai, what’re you saying? You don’t understand,” Dalia said, before noticing Beilzen’s hasty retreat. “No, wait. You don’t have to leave. I want you to stay.”

  He shook his head, casting his eyes downward. “No, your sister is right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. Forgive me,” he said, hurrying away.

  “Why?” Dalia asked.

  “How can you ask me that? We’ve told you about that one many times. Instead of staying away from him, you’re sneaking around and allowing him to touch you.” Her face contorted with both anger and disgust. “Do you know what he’s done, what he is?”

  “Yes, he told me, but that person no longer exists. How can we expect forgiveness if we refuse to offer it?”

  Sarai shook her head, trying to temper her tone. “Dalia, I know that you’ve suffered, but I have, too. Don’t do this, please. You’ll find someone to love you and he won’t care about your condition. Please, not Beilzen. He’s not even a man.”

  “Why? Because he’s Nazilian?”

  “I give no care about his heritag
e. Beilzen isn’t a man, not truly.” She sighed. “The—the former Zaxson, Daracus, he—he took everything from him.”

  “What? Speak plainly.”

  Sarai sighed again, lowering her voice. “Beilzen can’t please you, Sister, even if you allowed such intimacies. His member was severed long ago…nothing lies between.”

  Dalia staggered back. “No.”

  “I’m sorry. Sir Benoist found him chained after the battle. Daracus removed his manhood and left him to die. Nothing remains. Nothing. He can’t love you, not like you deserve.”

  “Gods. That’s what he was trying to say, and I didn’t understand. I need to speak to him. He didn’t deserve this.”

  “No,” Sarai said, gripping her arm. “He isn’t for you. He isn’t for anyone. Beilzen has his son and should be pleased that he was allowed that much.”

  “Why should this be good enough for him? What he’s suffered…” Dalia shook her head. “Everyone deserves to be loved, regardless of their past. I can’t fathom the extent of his suffering.”

  “What about those who suffered at his hands? My husband and even Wosen and Hushar suffered from his brutalities. Pentanimir and Danimore have fallen prey to his evil as well. No, his suffering has been little compared with those that he’s harmed.”

  “Little? Having his manhood severed is no little thing. I can’t imagine such cruelty. Beilzen is merely three and twenty and he’ll never know the comfort of a woman again. How do you find such treatment just?”

  “Had you known him before, you wouldn’t question. He’s not for you. Beilzen has Fáelán by the Guardians’ grace, and that’s more happiness than he deserves. Leave him and return to Kaleo. There’re many men with children in need of a good wife.”

  “So, I’m never supposed to have someone who loves me? I’m supposed to accept whatever man who needs a bed wench and maid?”

  “That’s not what I meant, Dalia. You deserve to be happy and have someone who loves you, too.”

  “Mayhaps that’s what I’ve found. Had you considered that before you sent Beilzen away?”

  Honor Above All

  The guard paused as he entered the audience hall. His eyes narrowed, observing the men seated at the table. During Draizeyn’s rule, such a display would be unheard of. This was a different Nazil, and he reminded himself of the same as he made his way to the citadel. The thought of humans, bastards, and former slaves holding positions of power was in insult to Nazil and their former leaders.

  “Please be seated,” Pentanimir said, motioning to a lone chair.

  Ladir inclined his head, taking a seat across from him.

  “Sir Cantrell,” Pentanimir began. “Why have you sought audience with the Council?”

  Ladir eyed Symeon, before focusing on the Zaxson again. “Yes, First Chosen…Sir Benoist…Zaxson…” he stumbled.

  Pentanimir smirked. “Your query, Sir Cantrell?”

  “Yes, Zaxson. There was a post near the temple regarding suitable candidates interested in joining the Chosen Guard.”

  “Indeed. Do you wish to be considered for a position?”

  “I do. For ten years, I’ve served Nazil faithfully. I was but five and ten when I was honored with a third guard’s position. In that time, I’ve moved to second and first when men are needed. I’ve always followed my commands, and never strayed from the tenets of the Nazilian guard. Honor Above All.”

  “Honor,” Pentanimir repeated. “Tell me, Sir Cantrell, what does the word honor mean to you?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Far too often, I’ve heard the guards and others repeat the same adage to me. Albeit, no one can explain the meaning that lies within. The true meaning. What does honor mean to you?”

  “Honor is above all,” Ladir said, bemused.

  “Honor above all is merely a maxim. It’s a convenient idiom to shout before battle, or use to inspire lesser men, and bring them summarily to a common cause or belief. What I want to know is what honor means to you, not what you’ve been taught to bellow and parrot to those of higher position.”

  Ladir’s piqued visage was impossible to conceal.

  “Honor is more than a word, Zaxson,” he said. “One’s actions must reflect that which lies in his heart. I’ve always shown honor toward those I serve. Whatever the Zaxson or First Chosen would have of me, it shall be done.”

  “No matter the command?” Pentanimir asked.

  Ladir nodded, locking eyes with him. “No matter the command. It isn’t my place to question. There’s no honor in challenging or disobeying those whom you serve.”

  “Even if that command would bring dishonor to your position or yourself?”

  “Dishonor? What dishonor could there be in serving the white city and those who rule it? If the Zaxson commands a thing, it shall be done. Honor is above all.”

  Pentanimir looked at Danimore, nodding.

  “Are you to say that all of your actions while serving with the guard have been honorable?” Danimore asked.

  “All I’ve done in service to the Zaxson has been most honorable, yes.”

  “Is that also true while serving beneath Daracus and Yannick?”

  Ladir tensed. “Lord Vereux and Sir Merrimont were both honorable, although the former lacked the experience of his father.”

  “So, you agree with the path Daracus and Draizeyn chose for Faélondul?”

  “In part. Nazil has always been a great power. The people of Nazil have an obligation to lead and the right to govern. Although some missteps were made, our leader’s hearts were true, and the benefits to Nazil were great.”

  “I see,” Danimore said, gesturing to Temian.

  “Sir Cantrell, were you in total agreement with the decisions made for Nazil?” Temian asked.

  “I did what was commanded of me, yes. I found no cause to question the orders of my superiors. However, I’ve learned from mistakes that the former Zaxsons committed. They were few, but didn’t pass my notice.”

  “You’ve learned from their mistakes?”

  “Yes, Sir Benoist, I have.”

  “Have you learned from your own?”

  “My mistakes? To what do you refer? My record is exemplary, and even Sir Oxilon commented on my abilities and promise,” Ladir said, purposely mentioning their uncle.

  “We all err, Sir Cantrell. To think otherwise would be foolish. Certainly, there are actions or activities in which you were involved that would bring shame to your position. Do you deny such a charge?”

  “Charge? I wasn’t aware that I’d be so accused. Do I need an arbiter present? I thought this was an interview to establish my credentials to join Nazil’s Chosen Guard. Either I’m worthy of a public challenge, or I’m not. My record should speak for itself.”

  “I agree,” Pentanimir said, signaling to Symeon. “This is my First Chosen, Sir Yego. I’m certain that you’ve made his acquaintance in the past,” he said, enjoying the look on Ladir’s face as he regarded him. “Symeon is the finest warrior I’ve had the honor of knowing. His prowess exceeds my own and all seated among you.”

  “Even when we stand together against him,” Temian added.

  Pentanimir grinned. “If you’re selected as a candidate, you must first spar against the First Chosen. After seeing how you fare in such a contest, we’ll add your name to the short list of those who will take part in the public melee and test of skill.”

  Ladir swallowed hard.

  “Is this acceptable to you?”

  “If—if this is the new regulation for acceptance, I—I’ll meet the challenge,” he stammered. “There’s no room for fear in the heart of a Chosen of Nazil.”

  “Fear isn’t an enemy,” Temian said. “However, cowardice could be seen as such. Having fear is a natural part of being, and only a fool would think otherwise.”

  “Do you brand me a fool?” Ladir stated more than asked. “Twice you’ve mentioned the same.”

  “I made no such assertion. Fear is felt within the heart of every man. Even the
Chosen fall prey to such emotion. What separates the Chosen from others is the way they manage and overcome this fear. There would be no bravery or courage without experiencing fear first, Sir Cantrell. It’s that very emotion which makes us stronger and able to overcome that which would paralyze our movements. Do you not understand?”

  Ladir nodded, not agreeing, or disagreeing.

  “Well, we get ahead of ourselves,” Pentanimir said, clasping his hands together. “There is much to discuss before we make arrangements for such a trial.

  “Sir Cantrell, there’s been a claim made against your character. This we must investigate and discuss before any challenges can be awarded.”

  “A claim? I serve Nazil with honor. Who dares attempt to despoil my character and reputation?”

  Pentanimir signaled to Jahno and he cleared his throat, unrolling a parchment.

  “There’s been a claim issued against you,” Jahno said. “As is the case with everyone who endeavors to join the Chosen, denizens of the white city may offer a challenge of character. These claims aren’t taken lightly, and all are given a fair hearing.”

  Ladir’s face scrunched in disgust regarding Daracus’ former lover. “If I’ve been so accused, I demand to face my accuser,” he said, looking only at Pentanimir, but it was Jahno who responded.

  “It’s your right to do so,” Jahno said, motioning to Symeon.

  Symeon moved to the door, ushering someone inside. Hearing hushed voices, Ladir leaned, straining to hear.

  “Zaxson,” Symeon said. “May I present Lord Beilzen Langston de Braose.”

  Ladir’s head snapped up, but Beilzen didn’t turn to regard him. He focused his attention solely on the Zaxson.

  “It’s an honor,” Beilzen said, bowing respectfully.

  “Greetings, Lord de Braose. Please state your former and current position for the record,” Pentanimir said.

  “Yes, Sir. My former position was second guard of Nazil. I currently serve as the Associate Chancellor of Treasury.”

  Ladir’s mouth gaped, knowing what Beilzen might say. He was guilty of the offense, but never would’ve committed such violations had he not been ordered to.