“I tried to tell you many times, even the morning after we’d made love. You didn’t hear me as you do now.”
“I do, and I want you to be with me always.”
“Does this mean that you’re accepting me…our…our promise? You’ll be my wife?”
She giggled, stroking his thick, tangled hair. “Yes, and yes. But first, I must tend your hair. It’s just awful, Ahvixx.”
He laughed aloud. “Anything for you, my love,” he said, scooping her up in his arms.
“Ahvixx?” Asmaa called out from behind them.
“Nohek Asmaa?”
“Are you to tell me why one of my young heldings is creating such a spectacle in the temple gardens?”
“Such a display is necessary with news as great as ours, Nohek.”
“Oh?” Asmaa suppressed his smile. “Mayhaps you should share such news, young Ahvixx.”
“Nohek Asmaa, your assessment was correct. After much prayer and a most pleasant conversation with Lady Sahma, I’ve decided that becoming a priest isn’t where my heart truly leans.”
“Indeed?” Asmaa said, smiling. “Do tell.”
“Nohek Asmaa, I’ve asked Lady Sahma Voney for her promise, and she’s graciously accepted.”
“I see. And what do her parents think of this?”
“My parents will allow me to follow my heart, Nohek.”
“Then we should visit the citadel and speak with Saifu and Yeshe. If I know my young helding as I feel I do, he’ll want to solidify this arrangement and begin preparations for your ceremony.”
Ahvixx smiled, offering an agreeing nod. “I’d let no more time pass than necessary, Nohek. We’ve waited long enough.”
“Agreed,” Asmaa said, escorting them from the gardens.
Enemy of my Enemy
“How much farther?” the man asked, stepping over a sewage-filled puddle. His nose crinkled from the stench of the dank tunnel.
“There’s an overhang up ahead. We can rest there if needed.”
“What I need is to be free from this wretched stench and blackness. Do you even know where you lead?”
“I know well enough for our purpose, and you should be grateful for that,” Nigel sneered, growing weary of the constant complaints.
They’d been traveling nearly three suns through the snaking tunnels beneath Nazil. No one had traversed the vast network of passageways in years. More often than not, they ran into collapsed earthen ceilings or dead ends, causing them to retrace their steps. The underways weren’t maintained, and most knew nothing of their existence.
“Grateful? You rouse me from a warm bed, and the comfort of my wife, and I should be grateful?”
Nigel halted and turned, putting the torchlight between them. “You’re a fool, Molag. If I hadn’t come for you, you’d be facing the headsman’s ax like those hedgeborn bastards you coerced.”
“Beware how you speak, guard of Nazil,” Molag said, stepping forward.
Nigel scoffed. “You are a fool, indeed. You attacked the Zaxson’s wife and son with a smattering of farmers and idiots. I alone could’ve defeated that mindless low-bred scum you sent against the Chosen Guard.”
Molag’s face reddened, narrowing his eyes. He lowered a hand to his sword, with an onslaught of stinging retorts on the tip of his tongue. However, he bit back those remarks, knowing this wasn’t the time or place. Molag allowed the slight, as he peered around the enveloping blackness, realizing that Nigel held the upper hand…for now. Once they were free of these tunnels, much could be different.
“You presume much,” Molag said instead. “I’m not aware of any attack perpetrated against the Zaxson or his family.”
Nigel smirked, turning away. “As you say. Do you think we don’t know your plans and your movements?”
“We? Who accuses me of such treachery?” Molag demanded with feigned innocence, clutching Nigel’s arm.
“Your voice rings loudly in Yarah and without as well,” he said, peering down at the calloused hand and snatching away.” Too many know of your distaste for the Zaxson and those at his side. You speak too much and to far too many. Had you awaited the proper support, everyone in the caravan would’ve been killed. We have trained guards and sell-swords at our disposal, yet you opted for farmers and hedge-born churls. This is why you’re a fool, Molag. Your lack of patience, organization, and wit is a presage to your failure…and your demise.” Nigel paused, upraising a hand to silence his angered rebuttal.
“You are fortunate, however. The one who sent me has many loyal men in service to only him: trained men who know how to strategize and how to kill, both quietly and efficiently. There are Chosen guards charged to protect the Zaxson and his family who await merely our word. They won’t suffer Pentanimir’s reign and swear fealty to this man alone.”
“I’ll have his name,” Molag demanded, crossing his arms over his barreled chest.
“He prefers a degree of anonymity. I’m certain that you can understand why such prudence is necessary. These are dangerous times, and no one can be certain of allegiances or allies.”
“Agreed. Then you understand why it’s essential that I know his name. I’ve allowed you to lead me through this darkness due to the urgency of your message and the honor of your position. Many I know in Yarah claim you as a friend, but I’ll know whom I’m supposed to meet at our journey’s end. I, for one, don’t appreciate surprises or wasting my time.”
“All you need to know is that if not for him, you’d already be dead. He provided the map and sent me to retrieve you ahead of your idiotic and rushed plan. Your men are dead, Molag Bomgaard, yet you’re very much alive. Offer your gratitude upon our arrival or see such favor at an end. I need nothing from you.”
“And I offer you nothing, guard of Nazil. It’s he who pulls your strings that’s of interest to me.”
“Then move with purpose, old man. We’re nearly there, and I need to be free from your whining,” Nigel spat, sniffing the air as he pushed past. “And your stench.”
“You play a dangerous game, Nigel. Offer more insults toward me and find my sword in your back.”
“You’d get but one chance. I’m not a guard of Yarah. I’m a Chosen of Nazil.” He spun around, edging his dagger beneath Molag’s chin. He sucked in his breath, holding both hands in the air.
“What are you about, Nigel?” he strained to speak.
Nigel brought the torch forward with his other hand, forcing the blade closer against his throat. “I suffer you because it’s my duty to do so. Had the choice been mine, the Zaxson would’ve lopped off your useless head with the men you sent to the slaughter. You’re a fool, and do more to hinder our efforts than to further them. Threaten me again, and these tunnels will forever be your home,” Nigel spoke coolly, allowing the intensity in his eyes to deliver the seriousness of the threat.
Molag nodded as much as his precarious position permitted, lowering his hands as the blade was retracted.
“We’re nearly there,” Nigel said. “Make haste, Molag Bomgaard, and we’ll both receive what we want.”
Pentanimir questioned not only his poor judgment, but also the tragedy his decision had nearly caused. Brahanu was safely in the citadel, but even home in Nazil didn’t seem safe enough. He wasn’t ignorant of the traitors in their midst, or the whispers of an uprising in the white city. However, even conscripting the sentries from Noraa and Kaleo didn’t appear to be enough. They were skilled, battle-seasoned warriors, but no match for Nazil’s elite Chosen Guard. This wasn’t a comforting thought. In time, the human sentries would be formidable, but Pentanimir’s greatest concerns were for the present.
Releasing a troubled sigh, he looked up again, sorting out the details reported about the assault.
“Didn’t Lady Brahanu speak the same?” Wosen asked, taking a seat beside him.
“She couldn’t remember much past the flames, and I won’t force the memory upon her. She’s still weak, and doesn’t want to leave our chambers. I can’t imagine wha
t she and Eytan suffered.”
Wosen looked on with empathy, unable to remove the image of the flaming carriage from his mind.
“Are you certain about what you reported?” Pentanimir asked. “I don’t doubt either Nakaris or you, but you’ve never seen the man you said appeared in the carriage.”
“That’s true, Zaxson, but who else could it have been? He mentioned his wife and son. Few know about Lady Benoist’s late husband or that Eytan is his son.”
Pentanimir nodded. “Describe him to me, Wosen.”
“His hair was dark gold like Eytan’s, only not nearly as curly,” he began. “He was draped protectively over them, touching, yet not so. It’s as if he was there and wasn’t at the same time.” Wosen shook his head, closing his eyes. “I’ve never seen a man that large and muscled, save Sir Yego or the Protectors. I recall his eyes, too. He looked up but a moment, but they were a greyish color, much like those of Master Tioch.
“It could’ve been the smoke, perhaps, I don’t know, but the…the mist or glow was apparent. It surrounded him, extending out to encompass the Zaontras and Eytan. It’s hard to explain, Zaxson, but I’ll never forget it. It was a pulsing luminescence with purple and silver hues.” His eyes opened, widening with a recollection. “The Protectors.”
“The Protectors?”
“Yes. That glow, it’s reminiscent of the helms the Protectors wear. When they connect extrasensorily with the Desu Beasts, their helms emit this…this glow. That’s what surrounded the man in the carriage.
“I didn’t imagine it, Zaxson. He was there, and then he just wasn’t. He saved your family’s life when we were helpless to do so. It must’ve been the Guardians. What else could it be?”
“Itai,” Pentanimir breathed, his eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere and nowhere all at once. The Guardians had mentioned Brahanu and Eytan’s connection, but that didn’t explain how Itai could’ve been in the carriage?
“Did I speak out of turn, Zaxson?”
“No…no, Sir Neufmarche, and I appreciate you speaking privately about this matter. You’re correct that only a select few are aware of Brahanu’s first marriage. We’d like to keep that information from becoming publicly known.”
“Won’t they question now after what Nakaris reported?” Wosen asked, with concern.
“Some might question where others will dismiss. Either way, I won’t corroborate their theories. Brahanu and Eytan are safe, and for this, I offer gratitude to you and the Guardians. Mayhaps Angelaris will help me understand how all of this was possible. They sent the Protectors to us, and Itai couldn’t have appeared in the carriage without the Guardians orchestrating it.”
“Angelaris? Are you traveling to the Animus Wood?”
“It may be necessary, but not soon. Molag hasn’t been apprehended yet, and my wife needs time to heal.”
Wosen stood, straightening his pearl cloak. “Yes, Sir. You mentioned something about the new sentries when I was summoned?”
“Yes. Symeon and Thalassa are meeting with them in the practice yard. Once they’ve finished their orientation, you’ll need to escort them to their barracks. Nakaris and Temian have the assignments, and Micah is preparing their uniforms. Ensure that there’re no Nazilian guards posted on their floors.
“Once they’re situated, you’ll be assisting Symeon with their training until Thalassa is able to reclaim the position. Do you understand the enormity of this task?”
“I understand, Zaxson, and I’m honored.” He bowed.
“The honor is mine.”
Shintao
Hosdaq acknowledged the guards in the corridor as he hurried to his meeting. Myriad questions swirled through his mind as he considered the recent reports. This transition would take far more time than he’d believed. He wasn’t ignorant of some Nazilians persistence and animosity, but he would’ve never thought Faélondul’s climate would sour so quickly.
He stopped at the end of the corridor, looking out the balcony windows. The builders of Spero continued their work on the new city. More former slaves were migrating to Spero with each full moon, and that was a comfort. With his new human guards and First Chosen, Hosdaq hoped that this city would be more akin to Bandari.
For the past two decades, Bandari had been his home. It was where he’d married his love and raised his children. That had been much on his mind of late, and brought a smile to his face that almost immediately faded. Bandari was also where Esme had died, and where his son had tried to take his life.
He rested a hand on his abdomen. The deep scars remained where Wosen had slashed him with the Xtabyren. “Wosen,” he whispered. At that time, Hosdaq had prayed for death, but was blessed with Osmara instead. His smile returned as he shook the painful memories away, embracing his blessings.
Regardless of the past, Hosdaq missed his son. Wosen had always aspired to become a Chosen of Nazil, and now that he was, Hosdaq needed to accept their separation. Wosen was no longer a child. He was a man, and Pentanimir needed men like him protecting his family.
His thoughts shifted to Osmara, Malkia, and Amryn then. Osmara had become fearful since the attack on Brahanu’s caravan. Hosdaq had to travel soon, and that only heightened her fear.
Waving away his guards, Hosdaq opened his solar door, and then paused beneath the lintel.
“Greetings, Caretaker,” Kuhani said. “Thank you for meeting us.”
Hosdaq smiled, yet his brow knitted, eyeing the man with Kuhani. “Whenever you would have it so, Drah’kuu Kuhani,” he said, closing the door behind him. Before Hosdaq could ask, Kuhani motioned to their guest.
“Please allow me to introduce Shintao.”
Shintao lowered his cowl, offering a bow.
“‘Tis an ‘onur to meet you, Cahtakah Neufmarche,” he said with an unfamiliar, musical accent.
Hosdaq squinted, looking at the man. He’d met many people throughout his years, but no one like this. He couldn’t understand what it was about Shintao that seemed so completely foreign, yet also familiar. In truth, his appearance was extraordinary.
His straight hair was dark as pitch with the right side shorn to his scalp. Shintao had large emerald, almond-shaped eyes, piercing even from this distance. There was a golden ring in his nose, and on his chest lay an odd gem, almost the same shade of green as his eyes.
Shintao’s frame appeared slight, even with the heavy cloak he wore. When he moved forward, Hosdaq noticed a hand crossbow attached to his right thigh, and some type of blade attached to his left. His skin had the kiss of the sun, and his features were soft, yet strong. There was a strangeness about him, and a familiarity.
“Yes…yes, I’m pleased to meet you,” Hosdaq stammered, reaching out a hand to the man. When Shintao extended his arm, Hosdaq saw markings on his wrist. They appeared similar to the Jasiri’s warrior marks, but these marks surrounded Shintao’s wrist like a bracelet, with one line proceeding down his hand and middle finger. In the center of his hand, Hosdaq was surprised to see the Guardian’s emblem.
“Have…have we met?” Hosdaq asked, noticing something peculiar about his eyes.
“No, Caretaker,” Kuhani said, motioning to the chairs. As the men took their seats, the priest poured tea for each of them. “Shintao is new to Spero.”
“But not new to you?” Hosdaq sipped his tea.
“No, we’ve known each other for many years. Shintao has spent much time in Faélondul and K’ohshul alike. With the Vereuxs removed from power, he and many of his family plan to make Spero their home. He’s asked for one of his brothers to join the temple, and I’ve agreed. Yasu studied with Malachi on the isle some years ago, and would be a benefit to Spero’s temple.”
“Yasu?”
“That ‘tis the name ove one ove my brahtahs. We ahre many.”
Hosdaq cocked his head. There was something—something —he couldn’t discern. “Of course, Kuhani. The priests are of your choosing.”
“Thank you, Caretaker. Shintao wanted to meet you before the r
est of his family joins him in Spero. For now, I’ve prepared room for them in the temple. Until their homes are completed, they’ll remain there with me.”
“As you wish, and thank you for informing me. I must meet with some of the guards regarding the packs of jaenitu near the pass. Some of the denizens are concerned about the proximity of the beasts so near to the city. I’ll send the trappers soon if the threat remains.”
Shintao and Kuhani exchanged a glance. “Trappers? My old friend, the woods near Bandari was filled with jaenitu. They aren’t predators and won’t harm anyone.”
“Indeed,” Hosdaq said, standing. “Still, with the uncertainty present in the lands, this is but another concern. You and I know the nature of the beasts, but others here don’t. I mean to run them off before people take matters into their own hands.”
Kuhani stood, inclining his head. “You speak true. Mayhaps Shintao and the priests could see to it. We’ll trek toward the wood on the morrow. There’re herbs we can scatter to prevent the jaenitu from drawing too near the city.”
“Thank you,” Hosdaq said, clasping the men’s hands. “If you’d excuse me, I promised to meet Osmara before holding audience in the hall.”
“Ove course, ‘twas an ‘onur to meet you,” Shintao said.
“And you as well, Sir...”
“‘Tis only, Shintao, Cahtakah. I ‘ave no othah name.”
Family
“Will you remain with me?” Beilzen asked, drawing Dalia closer. It was the first time that he’d allowed her to see and feel all of him, and again, he was amazed. She wasn’t repelled by the small stump where his manhood once stood. She accepted all of him with the most honest affection.
“Would that please you?”
“It would. I’m looking forward to when I won’t need to ask. The thought of waking beside you brings a warmth to me like none I’ve ever known.”
“I look forward to the same, but what about Fáelán? He might come during the night as he often does.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 116