The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  Temian’s brow creased, staring into his eyes. He wasn’t certain what Allister meant, but the way he spoke gave him pause.

  Temian gestured to the open door where his guard stood waiting. Allister inclined his head before moving through the archway. He immediately noticed that the guards were human, save Temian. With that revelation, he breathed a bit easier, knowing that he’d made the correct decision in coming to the citadel. Whatever violations his daughter might’ve committed, the safety of Nazil would supersede it.

  “Raise your cowl,” Temian said. “There may be guards posted that would tell about your visit. We’d have you safe, Sir d’Garrion.”

  Allister immediately complied. He hadn’t considered any repercussions.

  “Medric, Remy, scout ahead and ensure the corridor is clear.”

  “Will the guards heed our words, Third Chosen?”

  “Remy, you’re also a citadel guard. Only guards in your contingent should be present on this level. If that isn’t so, order them gone under threat of the Zaxson and the Third Chosen.”

  Remy and Medric bowed, hurrying down the corridor. Temian nodded to Allister, resuming their pace. As the men rounded the corner, Remy and Medric stood at the entrance to the chamber.

  “The Nakshij and High Priest are within,” Medric said. “The Zaxson and First Chosen are en route.”

  “Thank you, remain here and allow no one entry, save those of the Zaxson’s choosing. He’ll make you aware when he arrives.”

  “Yes, Third Chosen,” the guards offered in tandem.

  Temian pushed open the doors, allowing Allister to enter first. He slowly removed his cowl, keeping his gaze lowered.

  “Greetings, Nakshij, High Priest,” he offered, respectfully. “Thank you for allowing me audience.”

  “Had my brother not sent urgent word, you would’ve found yourself in a cell as was promised you,” Danimore said.

  Before Allister could respond, Temian stepped forward. “I wouldn’t have asked for you to come had his words rang empty. Sir d’Garrion has some pertinent information to relay, and items that require Thalassa and Nzuri’s expertise.”

  “My expertise?” Nzuri asked.

  “See for yourself,” Temian said, moving toward Allister. He reached into his satchel, producing the leather-bound book.

  “The mark of the Guardians,” Nzuri gasped.

  “Mark of the Guardians?”

  “Yes, the Guardians, Sir d’Garrion, and the true gods of these lands.”

  With that, he took a step back, eyeing the men. “The Guardians?” he asked again.

  “There’re names of the Nohek written inside. This book was taken from Hyorin. Where did you get it?” Nzuri asked.

  “Hyorin?” a voice called from the door.

  When Pentanimir entered with Thalassa and Symeon, Allister immediately bowed.

  “Why have you come?” Pentanimir said. “Have you a desire to visit the cells?”

  Allister raised his head, pausing as he regarded the Zaxson and Temian. He glanced from one to the other astounded. The two brothers were almost identical. He cocked his head, wondering how so many had missed the obvious similarities with Manifir’s sons.

  “No—no, Sir Benoist. I’ve brought information. It’s my hope to help in any way that I’m able.”

  “Information? What does he mean?” Pentanimir asked.

  “He’s brought news of treachery,” Temian said. “He also has a book of the Guardians and more scrolls and codices.”

  “Where would he get such a book?”

  “Zaxson, Sir, I found it in the temple.”

  “Found it?”

  “Yes. It—it was hidden, Zaxson, along with these scrolls and codices. I’ve brought the information here to keep it from those attempting to use them to cause harm.”

  “You stole this from the temple?” Nzuri said, still carefully flipping through the delicate pages.

  “It was the property of the Cha. When they died, I took them, yes. However, there are others who seek the same.”

  “What others?” Nzuri asked.

  After Pentanimir gestured for him to sit, Allister moved closer, setting the remaining scrolls on the table.

  “Yes. There’s someone here in Nazil who’s aware that the Cha had possession of these documents. I didn’t know their origin, only that they were property of the Cha. Sir Branston visited me before I came to you, and he asked for these very items and offered compensation for their return.”

  “Nigel Branston?” Danimore asked for clarification.

  “One and the same.”

  Pentanimir and Danimore exchanged knowing looks.

  “What did he request of you?” Pentanimir asked.

  “He requested these documents and offered to pay a healthy sum for their return.”

  “And your response?” Danimore asked.

  “Am I not here, Nakshij? I’d see these documents in the Zaxson’s hands and not those of these perfidious criminals. Sir Branston mentioned a benefactor and others held in high regard throughout Nazil. There are many who would like to see your line ended.”

  “Of that much we’re all aware,” Danimore said. “Why did you choose to come here instead of joining those opposing us?”

  “Sir Benoist, my daughter may have committed an inconceivable violation against you, but that was Nikolina, not me. She didn’t see those actions as inappropriate or criminal… desperate mayhaps, but not inappropriate. Never did she want to injure you in any way. On the contrary, my daughter foolishly believed that those same vile acts would prove her love for you.

  “It pains me to look at her, at what she’s become. She was devastated by your rejection and didn’t know how to manage such strong emotions. It doesn’t excuse the suffering she’s caused, but you need to contemplate what part you might’ve had in her decisions,” Allister said more harshly than he expected, and then regarded the Zaxson.

  “I’ve always respected House Benoist. No one can offer one example of my family speaking ill against you or your father. I may be Nazilian, but never treated anyone as if they were beneath me. Your mother would attest to the same,” he said, glancing at Temian.

  “When the Vereuxs fell, it was a blessing for Faélondul. Too long had they ruled over us. Draizeyn and those of his line have sent our great city in directions many opposed. But who would stand against a ruling line that established who we are? No, Zaxson, I wouldn’t see your rule end. Regardless of my daughter’s faults, you and your family have been just and honorable to us. Only those who fear the truth would want you removed from the citadel.”

  Quiet filled the room. Danimore wanted to be angered by him and his assertions, but he couldn’t and remain honest with himself. Allister had never spoken or moved against anyone in his family. Manifir and even Oxilon had spoken highly of him in times past. It was merely his dealings with Nikolina, and the tragedies surrounding them that caused Danimore to judge him so harshly.

  “I hold no malice toward you, Sir d’Garrion,” Danimore said. “The crimes your daughter committed fall upon her alone. We’re all grateful that you’ve come with this information. My family only strives for the betterment of Nazil and the whole of Faélondul.”

  “Well said, Brother,” Thalassa said, moving past the awkward exchange. “Sir d’Garrion, tell us more about these texts and scrolls. Whoever sent the Chosen to your home must’ve known of their importance. The Mehlonii language is difficult to decipher. Was it the Cha’s practice to study the arcane language?”

  “I don’t know, Lady Ishida,” he said, handing her a small leather-bound book. “This aided them with their translation as it has me. The mysteries of the Cha were only disclosed to those of their choosing. Is this not so, Sir Benoist?”

  “You speak true,” Temian said. “During my time at the temple, such matters weren’t discussed, not with me. I learned about the Guardians from my mother, not the Brotherhood of the Cha.”

  “I’m certain that they didn’t share this inf
ormation with those not of a like mind,” Thalassa said. “The Cha created the four Nazilian gods. Teaching about the true gods isn’t something they would’ve done. Their power lay in the deception they perpetrated. The truth they kept to themselves. Otherwise, they would’ve shared these scrolls and codices with the populace.”

  “False gods?” Allister asked. “How can you be certain they’re false?”

  “I speak the truths already known to you. There’s much we’ve learned while deciphering the ancient texts.”

  As she finished, a soft tap on the door interrupted their meeting.

  “Forgive me, Zaxson. I was in prayer when Sir Mallory arrived. He allowed me to finish communing before informing me about the meeting.”

  “Please be seated, Ahvixx. We’ve only begun discussing the book of the Guardians. Your skill will be needed to translate the text into the common tongue.”

  “Ahvixx?” Allister said, turning and regarding him.

  “Yes, I’m Ahvixx.”

  “Ahvixx Ahllendale?”

  Ahvixx’s brow knitted. “That’s my name, Sir. Have we met?”

  “Are you the son of Haden?”

  “Yes, my father’s name was Haden. Did you know him?”

  “Indeed,” Allister said. “And one of the few who named him a friend. I searched for you, Ahvixx. I thought you’d been killed, you and your sister.”

  Ahvixx took a step back. “Only my parents were killed that day, Sir. There were no friends present to speak for them before the Zaxson, and no one to claim lowborn waifs chased from the city.”

  With that, Pentanimir raised a hand to silence them. “Ahvixx, I’m certain that you’re curious as to how Sir d’Garrion knew your father, but now isn’t the time.”

  “Pardons, Zaxson. Let us focus on things of greater importance,” Ahvixx said, taking the text Nzuri handed him. As he perused the many pages, Allister continued to glance at him, as he recounted his meeting with Nigel and what he knew about the documents.

  After several turns of the glass, he returned home. Allister sighed in relief, hanging his wet cloak near the door. Once he’d checked his appearance, he went to Nikolina’s bedchamber. He hoped informing her about the meeting would help to lift her spirits. He also hoped the Benoists could unravel the secrets of the texts. Somewhere within those pages was a way for him and his daughter to be free from Lilinth. At least, that was his prayer.

  Allister tapped on the door, slowly pushing it open. His eyes widened, seeing Nikolina out of bed and at her dressing table, wearing a beautiful crimson and black gown that he’d never seen. Her long, thick hair was pulled up off her full face, allowing her flawless complexion to shine. No signs of her ailment were present, and her skin glowed, appearing to shimmer in the lamplight.

  “I thought you were about the business of Lilinth,” Nikolina said. “Why have you returned?”

  “Don’t worry about my responsibilities, Nikolina. What’s happened? Why aren’t you abed?”

  Nikolina stood, kissing his cheek. When she moved away, her eyes flickered, showing bits of white before returning to pale blue.

  “I also have my duties, Father. I’m quite well, I assure,” she said, sliding her hands over her abdomen.

  “Arilian said that you should rest. The babe is overdue and could come at any time now. There isn’t anything that you need to do but rest. I’ll do whatever is necessary to ensure your safety.”

  She laughed. “My safety is no longer your concern.”

  “Not my concern? Nikolina, everything I’ve done is to protect you and my grandchild.”

  “As if your feeble efforts could protect me.” She scoffed. “You know not with whom you deal, Father.” Nikolina smiled as her eyes flickered again.

  Allister staggered back. “Nik—Nikolina?”

  “She, too, is here, my obedient lover,” she said, rushing forward and kissing him passionately. When he tried to pull away, she clutched his throat, continuing her kiss.

  “Mah’saahc has business this night,” she said, shoving him away.

  Allister stumbled further back, wiping his mouth in disgust. “Get away from my daughter! I won’t let you—”

  Nikolina’s hand shot forward, choking off his words. She laughed, tossing him effortlessly across the room.

  Allister groaned, clenching his eyes as he tried to recover. When he pushed to stand, Nikolina leaned over him, wielding a dagger.

  “Don’t be foolish, my sweet,” she purred. “You wouldn’t want to harm your daughter or your grandchild, would you?” She smiled, stroking between his thighs.

  Allister shook his head, sliding from her reach. “No…Nikolina...No. Please. I’ll do whatever you command, just please stop this. I’m begging you. Stop this.”

  Her smile took on a wicked edge, rubbing her rounded womb. When she approached where Allister lay, all coloring left her eyes.

  “No,” he tried to scream as she covered his mouth again. Allister struggled against the assault, knowing that it wasn’t his daughter, and yet, it was. He begged all the gods to free him from this torment. He’d rather die, and begged for death, feeling her hands between his thighs again.

  “Please, no…Please,” he begged.

  She laughed aloud, standing and removing her under-clothing. Before he could escape, she pointed the dagger at her womb. “Mayhaps the child will remain unharmed,” she teased. “Mayhaps not.” She ripped his trousers, exposing what lay beneath.

  “Please, I beg. I’ll do anything, anything!”

  Nikolina offered a serrated smile, moving over him. “You’ll do that and more.”

  He thrashed and gagged, trying desperately to get away. When he felt the poke of her blade, he froze, offering muffled prayers.

  “First, I’ll sample your blood, and then I’ll sample your daughter’s.”

  “Please, no.” Allister cried.

  “Please me well and your precious Nikolina will remain unharmed.”

  “Gods! Please help me,” he wailed, feeling a deeper stab. Allister’s tears were irrepressible as he followed her demands.

  Soon her feral snarls resonated around him as she made her satisfaction known. When she finally moved to stand, he rolled sideward, gagging until he retched. As he tried to crawl away, she gripped him by his hair, forcing him on his back.

  “No!” he shouted, pushing against her. “I won’t. Get away from me, you demon! Get away.”

  A hard backhand silenced him, causing his head to thud against the floor. For a moment there was only darkness, and he prayed it was the end. The darkness grew, creeping in from the corners of his eyes.

  Releasing a ragged breath, he lay motionless, never wanting to awaken. It didn’t come to pass, as he felt the intense stimulation. Wearily opening his eyes, he saw a blurry image. At first it was Nikolina, but it morphed into something horrid.

  “No,” Allister said, as she clutched his throat again. When he began to gag, she forcefully joined with him. The more he fought against her, the louder she moaned.

  “Like that,” she said in his daughter’s voice, slashing across his chest. Her grip loosened on his throat as she increased her motion, digging her claws into his neck. With a final snarl, she scraped her claws down his chest, writhing like a serpent.

  “Again, you’ve pleased me,” she said, kissing him again before rising and straightening her gown.

  Allister cried out, rolling on his side and retching. He continued heaving, grabbing whatever he could reach, roughly wiping his face and groin.

  She cackled, relishing every moment.

  “Why? Why would you do this?” he cried. “Why?”

  “I could think of no greater torment for you, my obedient lover. Nikolina is Mah’saahc’s now, just as you are mine. Deliver the key to me, and we’ll release you. Fail, and your fair Nikolina will beg for death long before it finds her .”

  Warrior Priest

  Kuhani tucked his hands behind his back, standing with perfect posture. He stared at the young gu
ard, taking full measure of his demeanor. Much had changed since their time in Bandari, and he was pleased with most that he’d witnessed. With a nod, Kuhani moved forward, circling around him. When Wosen attempted to speak, Kuhani upraised a hand.

  “You’ve been taught the importance of sustaining a healthy body,” Kuhani said. “Yet, without the mind, the shell in which you inhabit is nugatory.”

  He stopped, facing him. “Your mind is the most powerful weapon that you possess, Sir Neufmarche. Learn to master your mind, and the body will follow.”

  Wosen raised his head, looking into Kuhani’s eyes. As he opened his mouth to respond, Kuhani’s right palm shot forward, contacting him in the chest. The blow propelled him back, leaving him sucking in his breath and grasping his chest.

  “Why?” he asked, straining through the word.

  “I didn’t grant you leave to speak. Rise now and resume your position.”

  Wosen struggled to stand, still clutching his chest from the devastating blow. He couldn’t understand how such a move was possible. The priest stood just an arm’s length from him, yet had sent him sailing many cubits.

  Kuhani was always sedulous and philosophical, but now there was something else. Wosen was reluctant to return to Spero, even though he’d be with his family. He wanted to train, to divert all his energy into his weapons, not be subjected to the chiding of a priest.

  He’d endured enough of Kuhani’s pontifications growing up in Bandari. But Kuhani seemed different to him somehow. He was from the desert isle of K’ohshul, like Symeon, and his warrior markings and braid spoke of that significance. Perhaps Kuhani had something to teach and now, Wosen had a mind to listen.

  “The extent of your prowess isn’t in question,” Kuhani said. “Sir Yego speaks highly of your competence. You’ve developed your mastery of your weapons and martial abilities, but weakness remains in your mind, and subsequently, your heart,” he added, stopping to face him. “Did you not attack your Third Chosen?”