The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “I didn’t mean to harm him.”

  “Harm him?” Kuhani nearly scoffed, which was more emotion than he’d shown in the past. “Do you truly believe that you could’ve harmed the son of Manifir?”

  “I’m ashamed of my behavior, and regret my actions. I—I nearly killed Sir Benoist. If I had, I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

  “Indeed, your swords nearly found their mark. However, it was Sir Benoist’s restraint and superior training that thwarted your attack. Temian didn’t want to injure someone he respects so well.”

  Wosen’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t look up. “I’m thankful that I didn’t fatally wound him. I wasn’t myself when the altercation took place.”

  “You should be thankful that the Guardians spared you. Temian Benoist isn’t merely superior to you in rank, but in skill as well,” he prodded.

  “Do you doubt my prowess?”

  “I don’t doubt the level you believe your prowess to be, guard of Nazil.”

  His head turned, following Kuhani’s movements. The dubiety prevalent in his mind perceived that as a challenge.

  “Shall I demonstrate what I’ve learned?”

  Kuhani held his position, initiating a series of complex exercises, readying his muscles, and preparing his mind. Wosen was awed at the lightning-fast motion of his hands, and the agility of his body. Not even Thalassa’s movements were as fast and fluid.

  Kuhani slowed, focusing on, and flexing the muscles of his arms, wrists and hands.

  “If you have a mind, young guard, you may teach me that which you know,” he said, spreading both legs wide and assuming a partial crouch. He raised one hand forward, partially angling his fingers while the other was perched against his waist with an upraised palm.

  Wosen peered around the room, not only perplexed about Kuhani’s intent, but also how to respond. Although Kuhani had demonstrated some intriguing martial abilities, Wosen was confident that his recent training was superior. He didn’t want to harm the priest, but he didn’t see any alternative but to meet this challenge.

  Wosen also completed a series of complex forms, readying his body for the contest. When he assumed a defensive stance, he looked up, seeing Kuhani still crouched, awaiting his advance.

  Wosen leapt up, bearing down on his position. He appeared weightless as he brought his right leg up, keeping his left tucked beneath him, aiming for the crouching priest’s chest.

  “Jasiriaah ,” Kuhani said, effortlessly gripping Wosen’s ankle, using his momentum against him. He spun a half-circle, sending Wosen crashing into the far wall.

  He grunted as his body slammed against the unyielding stone. Quickly rolling to his side, he resumed his stance, eyeing the crouching priest. Wosen was still recovering his breath, but launched another attack. This time, he approached carefully, strategizing the best method to break through his opponent’s defenses.

  Wosen came up with his left hand and then quickly retracted, coming across instead with his right fist. Kuhani’s arm moved only a fraction, blocking and absorbing the well-placed punch.

  With a shift of his trailing leg, Kuhani jabbed forward, meeting his exposed torso. Wosen’s breath sharply expelled from his body as the powerful blow doubled him over. Without giving time for him to recover, Kuhani gripped both sides of Wosen’s head, flipping him onto his back.

  When Wosen strained to rise, Kuhani swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. He groaned, grabbing his back as the excruciating pain radiated throughout his body.

  Wosen gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain, lunging forward and then spinning, attempting a side kick.

  Kuhani grasped his leg, punching him in the chest. Wosen yelped, sending several jabs and hooks toward him, but Kuhani was more agile than he believed. With seemingly unnatural speed, Kuhani dodged left and right repeatedly, never releasing Wosen’s leg.

  As Wosen pulled away, attempting to regain his balance, Kuhani clutched his crotch, lifting him from the floor. Wosen tried to bring his left leg around and clamp down, but Kuhani slammed him to the floor before he could complete the move. Wosen choked, coughing blood-tinged spittle from his mouth.

  “Dijnay ein faeduhn. Loss is death, guard of Nazil,” Kuhani said, resting his foot against Wosen’s throat. “Your body will recover. Do you desire the same of your mind?” he asked, moving away.

  Wosen continued to cough, trying to recuperate. When he looked at Kuhani again, he’d resumed his passive stance. His cassock hung open in the front, exposing the warrior markings on his chest.

  Wosen struggled to his feet, staggering to take his position.

  “You didn’t fail, Sir Neufmarche, neither in your sparring this day nor your actions in the citadel. The mind is complex and multifarious, even more so than the body itself. You must learn to control the mind, and never again allow it to control you.”

  Wosen’s eyes closed slowly and then re-opened as nausea washed over him. He grimaced, the pulsating pain reminding him of the usually gentle priest’s prowess.

  “How?” was all he managed, fighting the sickening feeling in his stomach.

  “Akilu ,” Kuhani said, simply. “Allow me to commune with you, and together we’ll free you from the bondage of your past.”

  Wosen offered a languid nod as Kuhani gripped him beneath his arms, steadying his stance.

  “On the morrow,” he said, helping Wosen from the chamber. “First, we’ll tend your wounds. Then, we’ll free your mind.”

  Gifts and Schemes

  Beilzen smiled, navigating the crowded market. New merchants had arrived from Noraa and Kaleo, and it appeared everyone in Nazil was eager to purchase their wares. It had been years since the human caravans frequented the white city.

  Beilzen ignored the merchant’s constant calls, enticing others to view their wares. His focus was on a singular task. After his extended stay in Yarah, he wanted something special for his son and his promised.

  He weaved in and out of the kiosks, searching for just the right merchant—someone he’d known for years, and would have exactly what he wanted.

  It didn’t take long before he noticed the flamboyant, multicolored awning with an image of jewels prominently displayed on the front. He wasn’t bothered when he saw the impressive crowd surrounding the merchant’s stall. Jabrail Qureshi always kept the best merchandise on his person. Beilzen paused for a moment, just observing him.

  Jabrail wasn’t much taller than Beilzen, and was just as slight. His huge robes practically swallowed him, and that brought a wider smile to Beilzen’s face. Jabrail waved his boney arms about, wearing the same nearly toothless smile he’d remembered from years past. His skinny arms jingled with gold and silver bracelets, and every finger was adorned with a different type of jewel of varying sizes. Even Jabrail’s ears had several holes in which the finest gold and gems dangled.

  Beilzen didn’t interrupt Jabrail’s impressive oratory technique, looking on amazed at the skill of his well-practiced performance. He lowered his head, suppressing his chuckle as Jabrail’s eyes began to flash in time with the wriggling movements of his jeweled fingers. The patron’s eyes followed the sparkle of those jewels, whilst listening to the entrancing suggestions of their owner.

  When the final purchases were complete, he moved forward, offering a low bow. Jabrail’s face immediately brightened, pulling him into a crushing hug.

  “Master de Braose,” he exclaimed with a thick K’ohshulian accent.

  “No, you are the true master, Jabrail. Even after these long years, your skills amaze.”

  Jabrail wriggled his fingers, offering a large gum-filled smile. “I only speak that which is already in their hearts and minds. The mystical energies of the isle assist me to find the right item that they truly wish to purchase. It isn’t difficult once the interest is there,” he said, winking slyly. “How fares your father?”

  “He’s quite well, and it’ll be even more so when I tell him you’re in Nazil.”

  “It�
�s been too long, my young friend. Far too long,” he said, motioning to the small wooden seat, and pouring them drinks. “I hope to remain near and come often now that Draizeyn is no more. My stock is full from across the seas with the most exotic jewels, oils, and silks.”

  Beilzen nodded, knowing as much would be true. “When I tell my father of your arrival, he’ll insist that you join us for evening meal.”

  “It’s always a pleasure to dine with the men of House de Braose.” He clanged his cup against his. “Tell me: what desires lie in your heart, young master?” Jabrail asked, gesturing toward the chests in his kiosk.

  “My desire doesn’t lie in those chests. They lie in the deep pockets of your robes.”

  He offered an exaggerated nod, grinning. “Indeed, Master de Braose! Tell me of your desire and see Jabrail Qureshi make it come to pass.”

  “Your fingers don’t tell you of my heart and mind, Master Qureshi?” He chuckled.

  It was Jabrail’s time to bow low, removing his tight-fitting cap. “My fingers are skilled, but not even I could penetrate into the depths of your well-disciplined mind.”

  Beilzen laughed aloud with the adroitness of his tongue and the ease of his compliments.

  “Jabrail, I’m in need of a gift for my promised: a band of gold for our bond and an adornment for her neck.”

  “Ah, you are to wed,” he said, tucking the long hair back beneath his cap. “Congratulations to you, my friend. Indeed, I have many fine bands of gold and beautiful necklaces as well. Come, come, and see what I have for you.”

  Beilzen rose, gazing down at the fine gems and rings he produced from his robe. The old merchant motioned to his two guards and they released the flap of his kiosk, shielding too interested eyes from their transaction. He continued setting items on the counter until Beilzen fixed on a peculiar ring and bracelet.

  “What type of stone is this?” Beilzen raised the ring up, examining it closely.

  “This is a special item that has come to me only recently. The stones are from the desert isle.” He grinned, watching the multifaceted gems sparkle with the bright rays of the noonday sun.

  “I would have them for Dalia. Have you anymore?”

  Jabrail raised a boney finger, reaching within the large sleeves of his robes. When he produced a velvet pouch, Beilzen anxiously moved closer.

  “This, too, I have, Master de Braose. I was to present it to my wife, yet for you, I’ll part with it.”

  Beilzen’s eyes widened as the stunning briolette-shaped stone glittered in the light. The colors seemed to shift from purplish to pink to golden. Both men regarded the sparkling jewel with awe. The gold chain Jabrail had attached to it allowed the gem to spin, enhancing its radiance.

  “How much gold would such a magnificent stone cost?”

  “For you, Master de Braose, I offer it as a gift for your bond.”

  “A gift? Never could I accept such from you. This is worth too much, Jabrail. Surely your loss would be significant to offer it as a gift.”

  “I owe your father more than ten thousand of these stones are worth. He alone spoke for me when Draizeyn unjustly threw me in the cells. There has never been a time that I’ve entered the city and not been allowed to take rest at your home and partake of a meal. Years, Beilzen, years have passed since I’ve been permitted to come. Perrin de Braose is a true friend, and you are like a son. If this is the gem that you’ll have, it’ll come to you at no cost,” he said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “A gift for your beloved.”

  “Your generosity overwhelms, and it will never be forgotten, Master Qureshi. There are none like this in all Faélondul. Dalia will love such a gift, and it’ll only enhance her beauty.”

  “If you are pleased, young Beilzen, so is Jabrail Qureshi.” He smiled. “Are there any others you find as pleasing?”

  “The ring and bracelet with like stones. I’ll take those as well.”

  “Excellent choice, my friend. I’ll polish them and make them ready for your lovely young lady.”

  Beilzen nodded, staring at the unusual briolette necklace. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface and along the wavy, uneven edge. Indeed, this will look beautiful upon your breasts, he thought, noticing the intricate etching within the gem. He placed the item back in the velvet pouch, securing it within his cloak.

  After his business was concluded, he thanked Jabrail, and then continued through the marketplace, searching for a gift for Fáelán. As he passed a small group of children, a hand on his arm halted him.

  “Good morrow, Beilzen,” a honeyed voice said.

  “Nikolina, it’s been some time since I’ve seen you. Are you doing well?”

  She accentuated the roundness of her womb, forcing the fabric tight around it. “Quite well.” She smiled beautifully. “I’m surprised to see you free of the citadel.”

  “Surprised? Haven’t you seen me often within the city?”

  “Not of late, no. There was word of the Zaxson’s and Nakshij’s retribution against you. Most thought you were imprisoned for your previous treachery.”

  He looked at her curiously. Beilzen wasn’t ignorant of her affections for, or actions against the Nakshij. He wouldn’t give her whatever information she sought about the citadel or those who ruled it.

  “They speak somewhat true. I was indeed in the cells, however, Sir Benoist freed me from my confinement. I must remain in the citadel in service to the Benoists, but it isn’t as it was. I have my own chambers and move freely, as you can see. We’ve agreed to my recompense and duties for my past transgressions. Given the enormity of them, I’d say the Zaxson has been extremely lenient. I’ll serve the Benoists until I’m granted their leave.”

  She gripped his unoffered elbow, proceeding through the market. “I see. So, you are the servant now? Does this new position please you as much as the last?”

  “My last position was assisting the Cha. Sir Vereux stripped me of my guard’s title. Hadn’t you heard?”

  “My father told me as much. Though the particulars of your demotion weren’t disclosed.”

  “Particulars?” He halted, removing her arm.

  “Yes, particulars. Father didn’t know why you were no longer an honorable guard of Nazil. He only knew that you were serving as an attendant to the Cha. That position is beneath even the last you held at the temple.” Her expression was of utter innocence. “Is there more that hasn’t been told?”

  “Nothing of interest to you, my lady. Suffice it to say, Draizeyn wasn’t pleased with my handling of the savage. It was his plan to keep him well; mine was quite the opposite.”

  He noted the sinister grin that crossed her lovely face as she took his elbow again. “Sounds intriguing. Do tell.”

  “I’d rather speak about you. I didn’t know that you and Velnic had wed so soon. Were you married in Yarah?”

  “Velnic and I haven’t wed, and he’s not my child’s father. Another of my choosing planted the seed.”

  “You seem pleased by the outcome.”

  “Quite. Some would see such a predicament as shameful, but it’s what I wanted, so the blessings of the Four cover me.”

  “Blessings?”

  “Wouldn’t you consider a child as such? Mayhaps when you’ve wed and see your child growing in your wife’s womb, you’ll understand. My child isn’t anything short of a blessing, and my father and I await his birth with great anticipation.”

  There’s much she doesn’t know , Beilzen realized.

  “He?”

  “He,” she answered matter-of-factly.

  “You seem confident. I pray you have the desires of your heart, Nikolina. Your attraction for the Nakshij was well known. It’s good that you’ve found someone else to share your heart.”

  “As was your attraction for Lady Denotra?” Her brows rose. “Besides, how do you know that it isn’t the Nakshij who pleases me?”

  “Danimore? Impossible. Honor would prevent him from shaming you or his wife.”

  Nikolina only sm
iled. “Mayhaps. Truly, my son will be a d’Garrion despite the name of his father.”

  He studied her closely, attempting to understand the words she chose not to speak, as well as the obvious mystery that lie in the ones she did.

  “Give it no more thought,” she said, waving dismissively. “I wish to speak of matters other than my son, like being your guest at the citadel.”

  His eyes widened as a warning sounded in both his mind and heart. She wanted or needed something. There was no way he’d allow her access to the citadel, not through him.

  “My guest? You presume much, my lady. I don’t know if I’m allowed visitors. Surely, Danimore would welcome you. He did ask for your pledge.”

  “A pledge that wasn’t accepted, yes,” the quick-thinking woman replied. “It could be that he holds animosity toward me for the perceived slight. It wasn’t meant that way, of course. I find Danimore quite pleasing as we both know, and he finds me very pleasing as well,” she said, peering down at her abdomen with an exaggerated grin Beilzen couldn’t miss.

  “Ask of it. See if your captors will allow one of their own to visit. With the influence of the pythonesses and the savages, I wonder what true ties to Nazil remain in our leaders.”

  Beilzen wanted to end their meeting, but he remained calm, feigning a smile.

  “Posing the question shouldn’t cause an issue. Even one such as me should be allowed the company of a beautiful woman of Nazil.” Beilzen kissed her hand for effect. “What business do you have in the citadel?”

  “I’ll make my interest known when the time calls for it. For now, I’m doing my duty for Nazil. Having a half-human bastard as a possible heir is of concern to all Nazilians.”

  Those words stung. His son was also half-human and was only of blessed birth due to the Zaxson’s decree.

  “Half-human bastard? Of whom do you speak? Pentanimir’s sons are of his seed.”

  “Pentanimir’s sons, yes. Not so with Danimore and the noxious whore who shares his bed. You should know as well as I that the diseased doxy was pregnant before they met.”

  “Everyone in the citadel is aware of this. It isn’t news, Nikolina.”