The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “Trust?”

  “Yes, Beilzen, trust. There’re few now of which that word applies. I count you among them.”

  The Guardians are good, indeed, Beilzen thought, astonished. “I’m at your service, Zaxson, in whatever capacity that you might require.”

  Propositions

  “But, Father, you can’t return.”

  “The witch leaves us no choice. You’ve already nearly lost your son, Nikolina. We must do what she commands.”

  Nikolina lowered her head as warm tears streaked her cheeks. “It’s my fault. I didn’t listen. Had I heeded your words, all of us would be safe.”

  “The fault lies with the Cha. They brought this evil among us and through them, it’s flourished.”

  “I didn’t know. I thought that our answers could be found on Sanctium. The mage was supposed to help us…to save our people. I couldn’t have known about the evil we’d find there. The Four—”

  The flash of anger in his eyes silenced her.

  “Speak not the name of those demon gods in this home. I don’t ever want them spoken of in my presence again! I’ve witnessed countless atrocities committed in the name of their demon gods. We’ve permitted such evils due to our delusions of superiority, of righteousness. I was a coward then, but no more. Do you see me, Daughter?” He stood, holding his arms out wide.

  Nikolina buried her face in her hands as he tossed his long coat aside, revealing the scars and sutures beneath. “Do you see what they’ve done to me? Done to one who’s served them faithfully?”

  “Father, I—”

  “No! Our lives could be forfeit. They’ve threatened to rip your son from your womb to feed their impish demons. Don’t you understand the enormity of our sins…the evil that we’ve awakened? Your scorn toward Danimore could be the end of us all. And for what? What had he done to deserve your ire? Was it worth it? Was it worth the lives and souls of us all?”

  Nikolina wept, cradling her womb.

  “Forgive me, Father. I was a fool. I killed Danimore’s son, and now…now my son is in danger. All of us could succumb because of the hatred inside of me. I should be the one to die, not my son. Please, not my son.”

  Allister sighed, leaning down to embrace her. He’d never spoken to Nikolina so harshly, and cursed himself for the outburst. It wasn’t meant for her, it was truly meant for himself.

  Nikolina’s health was deteriorating rapidly, and she couldn’t endure this much longer. Her face appeared sunken, and the sickly pallor had returned. Mah’saahc had merged with her somehow, infected Nikolina with her essence. What Lilinth had forced her to drink could only be part of this…this possession.

  When the thought came to him, he leaned back, stroking his daughter’s face. Through this merge, this connection, Lilinth could inflict the worst suffering upon his beloved daughter. He had to protect her. Even if that meant sacrificing himself, Nikolina and her child would be free.

  “Forgive me, Nikolina, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t. What’s passed cannot be changed, we can only salvage what we have, and protect what’s to be. Rest now,” he said softly, rising from the bed.

  “Wait, Father, what will you do?”

  “Firstly, I need to study the scrolls. There must be something, some indication as to what can be done. Many prayers are needed, but I have none in which to offer them. Just rest,” he repeated.

  Allister stroked his thinning hair, hurrying to his study. He didn’t know where to begin, but he realized that he couldn’t do this alone. He had to admit what they’d done and seek whatever aid that he could find. If he was to save his daughter, he’d have to return to the citadel. His grasp of the texts was lacking compared with Pentanimir’s family. He didn’t know who to trust, but considering Nikolina’s condition, he was left with no choice.

  “Pardons, milord,” Dalinda said. “Sir Branston’s waitin’ to speak with you.”

  “Sir Branston?”

  “Yes, milord, he’s a Chosen Guard.”

  “Did the Zaxson send him?” he asked, nervously.

  “He didn’t say, just that he’s need’n to speak with you.”

  “All—all right, show him to the solar, Dalinda, and I’ll join him shortly. Bring some refreshments and then have my cart made ready.”

  Allister hurried down the corridor to his room. He splashed water on his face, brushing back his hair. After changing and straightening his doublet, he joined the guard in the solar.

  “Greetings, Sir Branston. Forgive my tardiness, I had other business.”

  Nigel stood, offering a bow. “It’s your prerogative, Sir d’Garrion. I didn’t make arrangements to speak with you, and you’re gracious to receive me without notice.”

  “My daughter and I are always honored to receive one of the Chosen Guard. Please, be seated. Are you on business for the Zaxson?”

  “No, my business is of a different nature. Do you have a mind to listen?”

  “That would depend upon your words. Speak them now and let us both discover my interest.”

  Nigel smiled wryly. “I’ve come to inquire about some items that might be known to you.”

  “Items?”

  “Yes, more specifically, parchments and codices from the temple.”

  Allister shifted uncomfortably. “Who did you say sent you here?”

  “There are those who have an interest in this information. You were a scribe for the Cha, Sir d’Garrion. With them so brutally taken from us, you alone would know where the documents were kept.”

  “You speak somewhat true. The Cha kept many documents in the temple. There are countless ledgers, scrolls, codices, and missives. Even messages received from the cities and villages were kept in storage. However, I was escorted from the temple soon after Daracus’ death. Since that time, the Benoists have assigned their own priests to head the temple. No one else is allowed beyond the sanctuary.”

  “I was told that you entered the temple before its reconstruction.”

  “I did, and I was ushered out. I wanted to retrieve my belongings and a chest from the Cha Asham’s solar. It wasn’t allowed,” he lied, unsure of the guard’s intent.

  Nigel’s mouth twitched up in a grin as he sipped his tea. “You mentioned Nikolina. How fares your beautiful daughter?”

  “She’s resting. Nikolina hasn’t been well for some time.”

  “I hear that she’s heavy with child. Is that so?”

  Allister rose, moving toward the door. He wasn’t certain who’d sent the guard, but he worried at the thought.

  “Forgive me, Sir Branston, but I have many pressing matters to attend. When you arrived, I was about to take leave. Whatever information you’re seeking, I can’t help you.”

  “Pardons, I didn’t mean to cause offense. Persons in high standing assured me that you could be of assistance in retrieving the documents. The recovery of such delicate information carries a substantial reward. My benefactor is willing and able to pay a fine sum for any assistance that you can provide in recovering the Cha’s records.” Nigel glided his finger over the edge of a wooden table, disturbing a layer of dust. “It would seem such monetary compensation is needed since your livelihood has been stolen from you.”

  “Your benefactor?”

  “Indeed. He knows you and your worth well, Sir d’Garrion, not like those who now occupy the seat of power. My benefactor would like to bring you to our cause. Moreover, such a move offers many benefits, benefits no longer available to you.”

  “Your cause? And what cause would that be?”

  “All in good time.” He grinned. “We need honorable men like you to restore our great city. You can no longer scribe for the temple. Only the savages and abominations are trusted with such essential information. There are still those of importance and influence who understand both the heart of Nazil and the needs of our people. Many in Nazil and Yarah are already in his service.”

  Allister stepped back, peering at him from toe to head. For the first time, he realized the rumors to b
e true. This wasn’t merely a few disgruntled Nazilians angered at losing their slaves. This was an organized rebellion preparing to start a war.

  Allister had to ask himself: had he and his daughter foolishly aided in this treachery? Did others know about their excursion to the isle or about the wretched creature who resided there? Those thoughts caused him to visibly wince.

  He had no love for the Cha or the malevolence formerly present in the temple. Though he might not agree with all the new Zaxson’s positions, he respected the Benoists, and Nazil prospered under their rule.

  “Who is he, Sir Branston?” he finally asked.

  “In time, mayhaps an introduction will be in order. For now, I’ll leave you to your business…and your recollections,” Nigel said, replacing his helm. “At any time you recall the location of the documents I requested, please send word. Nazil needs men of your caliber, Sir d’Garrion. There are few left among us who truly know what it means to be Nazilian.”

  Nigel offered a partial bow, moving through the open door. After escorting him from his home, Allister stood near the entryway, dissecting the implications of the meeting. With the dangers he faced on Sanctium, and Nikolina’s deteriorating condition, he couldn’t focus on such treachery. At the same time, how could he ignore it?

  If Nigel had come to him with such promises of recompense, surely there had been and would be others. The reasoning behind this treason had little and less to do with the Vereux’s fall. It had everything to do with the humans and half-humans in positions of power throughout Faélondul.

  Villages of Nazilians were swallowed whole by the so-called Guardians. Thousands of lives, Nazilians lives, were ended that day. Allister feared that there were too many who wouldn’t cease their efforts until the citadel was cleansed, and the Benoists’ heads were mounted on spikes.

  He rushed to his study, gathering the documents into his satchel. When he looked at the heavy leather-bound book, he stopped to examine it. Allister traced the symbol burned deep into the cover. Most of the etchings were beyond his understanding, but he needed to keep the book safe.

  As he turned to leave, he caught sight of the small urn on his shelf. He lowered his satchel, walking over to it. His fingers caressed the smooth sides, feeling a warm sensation from the broken shard he’d hidden there. Part of him wanted to remove it, but he stopped, peering inside instead.

  After ensuring that it was safe, he donned his cloak, exiting his home. The snows had begun to fall, causing the cobbled streets to become slick. He was careful as he approached his cart, checking for anyone who might have an interest in his movements. Raising the cowl over his head, he took the reins from his driver, motioning him back inside.

  Allister didn’t wait for a response. With a flick of the reins, the small cart started to move. As he traversed the winding streets, he sighed, admiring the splendor of Nazil. It was the only home he’d known, and at that moment, he pondered what the future held. Not only for him, but for Nazil and his family most of all.

  He watched his breath hang heavy in the air, keeping to the shadows. When his thoughts turned to Sanctium, he nearly stopped. Allister wasn’t ignorant of the ways of his people. Something was amiss beyond what he’d discovered on the isle. The darkness that lay ahead was either created by or sustained by the Cha.

  Allister slipped a hand into his cloak, caressing the worn leather satchel as if needing confirmation that it yet remained. He glanced around the empty streets, flicking the reins, and urging his horse as fast as he dared on the slick roads. Though mere moments passed, it seemed more a season before he’d arrived at the outer gate of the citadel. Pentanimir had ordered him never to return, but he saw no alternative now.

  “Halt!” the guard called down from atop the outer wall. “State your business.”

  Allister cleared his throat, pulling back his cowl. His brow knitted as he looked up at the guard. He scanned the other guards within his view, realizing that none of them were Nazilian.

  “Greetings, good sir. My name is Allister d’Garrion, and it’s imperative that I speak with the Benoists.”

  “If you need to speak with the Zaxson, return when he holds audience in the hall. Now be gone from the gates lest I have you removed.”

  “Please, Sir,” Allister continued, politely. “If the need were not urgent, I daren’t disturb our honorable leader. I have pressing news and it’s vital that I speak with him. If the Zaxson cannot meet with me, I’d speak with the Nakshij, High Advisor, or any of his line. Please inform them that Allister d’Garrion has come on urgent business, and they’ll grant me entry.”

  The guard scoffed, turning toward another upon the outer wall. He didn’t want to disturb the Zaxson, but if the business was urgent, he needed to inform him.

  Allister watched as they whispered something he couldn’t hear. Both guards stared at him and then turned their backs, continuing their conversation. After some time, the first guard reappeared.

  “Wait here and we’ll see,” the guard said, moving from Allister’s view.

  He observed the guards on the ramparts, listening to signals being shouted back and forth. His fingers were growing numb from the bitter cold and stinging wind, reminding him of his time in the mountains. Still, he sat outside the gates, praying to whatever gods who were listening.

  After replacing the cowl, he continued to sit for nearly half a glass in the freshly falling snow. When the guard finally returned, Allister was shivering from exposure.

  “The Third Chosen will see you.” The guard signaled for the gates to be raised.

  “Th—thank you, Sir,” he managed through chattering teeth and bluish lips. After making his way over the drawbridge and through the second gate, he saw the entourage awaiting him near the citadel entrance. Allister swallowed hard, keeping his cart at a slow, but steady pace. When he exited, he offered a respectful bow.

  “Sir d’Garrion, what business have you at the citadel? My brother told you not to return.”

  “I beg your pardon, Sir Benoist. Had my business not been urgent, never would I defy such an order.”

  “I’ll judge the importance of your words.” Temian motioned to the door, ushering Allister into a room appearing more a closet. Only a small wooden table and two chairs fit into the sparsely furnished room. Temian ordered some mulled wine and added kindling to the brazier, noticing Allister’s shivering. As he stoked the fire, Allister moved closer, rubbing his near-frozen hands together.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Sir Benoist,” he said as some warmth returned to his body. “It’s true the Zaxson forbade me to return, but there are several matters that we must discuss.”

  Temian peered over at him, pulling out a chair. He recalled Allister’s character when they’d served together at the temple. At that time, he’d thought he was a man of great integrity. That opinion hadn’t changed, yet he wondered what had caused him to falter. After Surma delivered the tray, Temian joined Allister at the table.

  “If you’ve come to inform us about your daughter, the Nakshij has no interest.”

  “No,” he said, after taking a long drink of mulled wine. “Nikolina hasn’t been well, but that’s not the reason for my visit. I need to inform the Zaxson about my recent visitor.”

  “Why would the Zaxson care who visits your home?”

  “He’ll care because the visit was from one of his Chosen.”

  Temian pushed his waist-length hair over his shoulder, leaning closer. “Why would such a visit cause concern? The Chosen are free to visit whomever they choose.”

  “Indeed, but it isn’t the visit that would be of interest, it’s the content.”

  “Speak plainly, Sir d’Garrion. I have no time to decipher your riddles.”

  “Forgive me. I don’t mean to cause confusion, however, I too, was confused and then angered by Sir Branston’s assertions.”

  “Sir Branston?” Temian asked. This wasn’t the first time this Chosen of Nazil had come up in conversation. Sidra Merrimont had warned them
about him not long ago.

  “Yes. Nigel Branston. He came seeking not only some rare documents, but allegiance as well.”

  “Allegiance? To what?”

  “Not what, Sir Benoist, to whom. There’s someone in Nazil gathering followers to oppose the Zaxson. Sir Branston referred to him as his benefactor.”

  “And what does he want from you?” Temian asked, doing well to mask the angst welling within him.

  “These,” Allister said, producing the parchments and the codices from his satchel.

  Allister studied Temian’s face as he picked up each item, scrutinizing it, and then lowering it again.

  Temian glanced at him, and then moved to the door. “Sir Meagher, have the Zaxson, Nakshij, and High Priest meet us in chamber three. If Thalassa is able, please summon her as well.”

  When he faced Allister, he replaced the items in his satchel.

  “I remember you, Sir Benoist,” Allister said, sipping the warm wine. “I remember when you served the temple and the Cha.”

  “Never did I serve those false gods or their corrupt leadership.”

  “Agreed,” he conceded. “Still, you were a part of their brotherhood for many years. I’d watch your interaction with them and others in the temple. In the beginning, I labeled you young and not yet understanding the way of things. But as time went on, nothing much changed in your behavior, except your ability to become invisible if the times called for it. You took no part in the ceremony of purge, or the abuse of servants. Never did you mingle with the other Cha unless your duties demanded it.

  “It didn’t pass my notice that each time your uncle Oxilon visited the temple, you ensured that you were far away. Albeit, it wasn’t the same with his honorable brother, Manifir. You and he spent much time together. I now understand the why of it, and my respect and admiration has grown. For your brothers, it was quite different, but you…to accomplish what you have—” Allister left his words there, standing.

  “Your road wasn’t an easy one, son of Manifir. Whether you believe my words or no, it pleases me to see you here in the citadel where you belong. You were always dissimilar from the other Cha, and that difference gave me hope. I pray that you and your brothers can save this great city and Faélondul. There’s a darkness coming. Not only from Yarah and Nazil, but darker places than you could ever imagine.”