The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “I don’t want to do this anymore than you, Dani.” He paused, looking at Brahanu. “Or you, my love, but I can see no other way.”

  Brahanu lowered her head, not wanting to accept those truths. She looked down at her son, leaning to kiss the patch of white hair atop his head.

  “Neither Tardison nor Ayrmeis will be harmed,” Ahvixx said, handing her the phial. “They must drink all within the container, and when they wake on the morrow, four years will have passed.”

  Brahanu met the eyes of everyone in the room before focusing on her husband. “Pentanimir.”

  “We must,” was all he said, taking the second phial, and lifting Ayrmeis from his basket. His eyes clenched shut, as he took a shaky breath, forcing the top free with his thumb. Pentanimir parted his son’s lips, slowly emptying the contents inside of his mouth. A small cry followed as Ayrmeis’ bottom lip quivered, turning downward. Pentanimir kissed him then, nestling him into his chest.

  “Only by your hands can it begin,” Ahvixx said. When Brahanu raised her eyes to his, a palliative warmth suffused her. The radiance of his eyes was mesmerizing, pulsing rhythmically until they bedimmed, with only his triangular irises slightly aglow.

  After he removed the stopper from the phial, Brahanu’s tears intermixed with the elixir as she poured it into Tardison’s mouth.

  Angelaris nodded, shifting in Arinak’s arms, struggling to remain conscious. “Ahvixx, these scrolls will aid you in the coming seasons. They’ll provide the insight you need to help not only the children, but all Faélondul.

  “Danimore, Raithym’s path cannot be changed, but know that the Guardians will never forsake him.”

  Danimore’s head raised up, his voice barely above a whisper. “Pa—path?”

  “Each of us has a path, and they’re ours alone to walk,” Angelaris said, motioning to Symeon.

  “Ayrmeis will have need of you, warrior of K’ohshul. Even before his birth, you’ve felt a connection with him. That bond will continue to grow, becoming indelible to the both of you. We’ve offered you a glimpse of what might come to pass—what Ayrmeis might soon face. His life is tethered to yours, Symeon. No matter whom he calls father, do not deny what you know in your heart. Do you understand?”

  Symeon’s heart raced, but he maintained his composure, tautening his posture. “I understand.”

  “Ayrmeis will need your guidance to prepare him. Embrace what he offers and spare none of your knowledge. Not only will the brothers Xaahn aid you, but more importantly, the leopard of the sky will return to Faélondul.”

  The siblings exchanged puzzled glances as Symeon merely nodded, ruminating on the magnitude of Angelaris’ statements.

  “What about our sons?” Pentanimir asked. “What’s going to happen to them?”

  “The Ke’ohnzi will lead where you must follow. Mah’saahc’s corruption will continue to suffuse and devour those of her choosing. If the fracture cannot be sealed, a pall of darkness will cover all the lands.

  “The creators of false gods will rise amongst you now that the mage has merged with the disrupter,” Angelaris said, straining through each word.

  “AsZar?” Thalassa said.

  Arinak cradled Angelaris closer, whispering. “Fedahryelah, k’aun ein’ zan’ner, pahn’taal mehtahne. Fedahryelah ,” [93] Arinak implored. The tears streamed from Thalassa’s eyes, hearing her father’s pleas, and knowing the pain that he felt as Angelaris’ life energies diminished.

  With a weak nod, Angelaris relented.

  “Your time is at hand, son of Haden,” she said as Arinak rushed through the doors. The citadel floors shook beneath his weight, as he ran down the corridors and back to Xandi. Before the siblings had reached the stairs, the screeches of Desu Beasts reverberated above them as they thundered across the roof, taking to the skies.

  Severed Connections

  Allister groaned, shifting in the bed. He cried out, cradling his manhood as a piercing pain froze him in place.

  “He’s awake,” Hushar said, moving to his bedside, and lifting a cup from the table. “It’s all right, Allister. Here, drink this.”

  Allister blinked his eyes open, attempting to focus his blurred vision.

  “Where—where am I?”

  “You’re in the citadel.”

  “How?” He winced.

  “When you fell ill, Dalinda called for Arilian, but he couldn’t help either of you. He sent your driver here, and Surma and Micah brought you to the citadel.”

  Allister moaned, curling with the passing waves of pain. When he lay still again, Hushar lifted the cup to his lips, helping him to drink the tincture.

  Her heart ached for him. Allister had suffered so much, and she feared that he’d be unable to endure what was to come.

  “There now,” she said, setting the cup aside and peering beneath the blanket. “There’s still a bit of swelling.” After removing the poultice from between his thighs, she retrieved another one from a shelf and rested it over his manhood.

  “Is that better?”

  Allister nodded, gazing up woozily. “Nik—Nikolina?” he breathed.

  “She’s here, too, but first I need to take care of you. Once you’re better, we’ll talk more about your daughter.”

  “Her son? Where’s my grandson?”

  “Don’t worry, they’re both here. You need to rest now.”

  “Will he recover?” Pentanimir asked.

  “He needs rest, but he’s doing much better. I’ll know more on the morrow,” Hushar said.

  “Please keep us informed.” Pentanimir’s mind was a muddle after the AsZar’s visit. He was concerned about Allister, but his family’s welfare was in the forefront of his mind.

  He’d hoped everything had been a horrible nightmare until he awakened and went to his son’s room. That reality was more debilitating than when they’d discovered Raithym’s transformation. His sons were four years older, speaking and behaving as strangers to him.

  Pentanimir couldn’t dismiss the fact that Allister’s actions were the cause of this. He’d empowered Mah’saahc and endangered all Faélondul—endangered his family.

  At the same time, Pentanimir blamed himself for allowing Nikolina access to Raithym. Instead of acquiring answers and a means to defeat Mah’saahc, he and his brother’s impolitic decisions had aided the creature.

  The AsZar had warned him, but he didn’t comprehend the intricacies of what she’d attempted to convey. How, then, could he castigate Allister for what he’d done without doing the same to himself?

  “Zaxson.”

  Allister’s call halted him. Pentanimir turned, moving over to the bed. “Hushar will take care of you. For now, just rest, Sir d’Garrion. We’ve posted two guards at your home and we’re searching for whoever attacked you.”

  “Attacked?” Allister’s eyes darted back and forth. “No, not who, Zaxson. Not who,” he said, straining to rise.

  “Shhh, be calm,” Hushar said, easing him back in the bed.

  “Zaxson, it isn’t what you think,” he wheezed. “Not who…not who.”

  “What do you mean.”

  Allister blinked languidly, taking a deep breath. “The...the isle. Sanctium.”

  “What about Sanctium?”

  “The witch…there’s a witch on the isle. I—we learned about her from the scrolls. Nikolina thought that she could guide us, to—to help us reclaim our heritage. We didn’t know, Zaxson, we didn’t. The Cha’s writings spoke of her as a divine and virtuous mage, an immortal guiding our steps, and protecting Nazil from harm.” He shook his head, taking a staggered breath. “It wasn’t true. None of it.”

  “What happened, Sir d’Garrion?” Pentanimir prodded.

  “Lilinth, she called herself Lilinth. We didn’t want to do it, Zaxson. You must believe me. But once we were there, we couldn’t leave. Lilinth took me and—and I didn’t wish it, but she had some control over me, forcing me against my will. I didn’t wish it,” he repeated, trying to force Lilinth’s image and vi
olations from his mind.

  “The fault doesn’t lie with you or Nikolina,” Pentanimir said, soothingly. “Please, tell me more about Lilinth.”

  “She…she abused the both of us and threatened Nikolina’s babe. We didn’t want to help the witch,” he reiterated, emphatically shaking his head. “Choice was taken from us and we couldn’t continue to resist. The wounds…the…the pain. She inflicted the most horrible pain on us. Nikolina suffered worst of all. Lilinth left us no choice. She would’ve killed us.”

  “What did she demand of you?”

  “The Nakshij…his son.”

  “Ihnat?”

  “No, not Ihnat. His elder son. She needed his blood.”

  “For what purpose? What is she planning to do with his blood? Please, Allister, try to remember.”

  “I don’t know,” Allister admitted. “It was Nikolina, yet it wasn’t. The witch forced a foul liquid down her throat, merging them somehow. Lilinth used my daughter like a puppet, forcing Nikolina to do her bidding.

  “It wasn’t Nikolina. It wasn’t. The things she did. The violations that she committed—”

  Allister’s voice cracked, his mind assailed by the memories of the night Lilinth had used Nikolina’s form to abuse him.

  Thoughts of that night tormented his mind and heart, souring his stomach. He wiped at his mouth, heaving as the sounds, tastes, and brutalizations besieged his very being as if it were yet taking place.

  Hushar rushed to the basin as Allister retched, unable to endure the memory.

  “It’s all right,” she said, dabbing at his face. “Just be calm.”

  He wiped away his tears, steadying his breathing. “Nik—Nikolina was forced to retrieve the blood, and I had to recover the shard, the—the key.”

  “The key?” Pentanimir asked.

  “Yes. It was buried in the Dessalonian Mountains. She gave me a map where it could be found. When I returned to Sanctium—,” Allister stopped, meeting Pentanimir’s eyes. “I resisted. I tried to leave, but she—it took hold of me, forcing me to her will. She’d always force me. Always,” he said, regaining some composure. “The shard wasn’t whole, and the witch punished both Nikolina and me for my failure.”

  “Not complete?”

  “It was but half, Zaxson: a fragment of the whole. I didn’t know, and we suffered for my ignorance. I didn’t know. I just wanted to end the pain and save my daughter. I couldn’t have known.”

  “That’s enough for now, Sir d’Garrion. You can’t blame yourself for what you couldn’t control. You’re safe now and need to heal. When your strength returns, we’ll discuss this with the council and hopefully discover a means to countervail whatever this mage has planned. Ahvixx’s knowledge of Sanctium is greater than ours combined. When he returns, he’ll be able to help us.”

  “Ahvixx?”

  “Yes. Ahvixx Ahllendale.”

  “Haden’s son,” Allister said.

  “I know you have some interest in Ahvixx and his father, but we have more pressing concerns. Once you’re able to give us a detailed accounting of your interactions with this mage, we must formulate some sort of strategy to protect us all. The dangers we’re facing are beyond the mortal.”

  Allister nodded, lowering to his bed. “For—forgive me, Zaxson. I’ll do whatever I can to aid you.

  “The mage, Lilinth, is merely a sycophant. She said that her master is the one who possesses the true power. Her master despoiled and violated my Nikolina. The darkness, Zaxson. Evil.”

  Pentanimir silenced him with an upraised hand. “Rest, Allister. Hushar will remain and tend to you,” he assured, moving to the door. “You’ll be kept safe.”

  Allister gripped Hushar’s hand once they were alone.

  “You’ve always been kind, Hushar, even when you had no cause.”

  “I only returned that which you offered. Even when the Cha sent you in to take me, you wouldn’t. Instead, you sat in my room, keeping them away while I recovered from their mistreatment. I was grateful for your integrity then, just as I am now. You were one of the few Nazilians who treated me like a person and not a slave.”

  “You should have never been mistreated that way. None of you. I’m not ashamed to be Nazilian, but I’m ashamed of what we’ve allowed.”

  Hushar shook her head, raising his covers. “It wasn’t you. That barbarity has ended, and we must continue forward, avoiding the mistakes and atrocities of the past. First, you must heal, Allister. Just as I must.”

  Shift

  Zeta sat motionless, cradling Ihnat in her arms. When Danimore sat beside her, holding Raithym, she looked down at him, and then slid away.

  “It is Raithym, Zeta,” Danimore said, closing the gap between them. “No matter how he appears, this is our son.

  “Look at him,” Danimore continued. “His features are the same: the curve of his nose, and the hue of his lips. Both are like yours. You’ve seen his birthmark. This is your son. Our son.”

  “How?” she asked. “It’s impossible, Dani. How?”

  Danimore inhaled a steeling breath, contemplating his response. He’d spoken with his siblings and Nzuri at length after the AsZar’s leave, but it hadn’t been enough.

  His attempt to exude placidity was faltering. He didn’t know how to comfort his wife when his mind and heart were in turmoil.

  Pentanimir had kept Raithym with them, allowing Zeta time to accept the changes in their son and begin to nurture him again. However, she refused to acknowledge what had happened or even ask about Raithym’s condition. Zeta remained locked in their suite, just as she had when they’d lost Godfrey.

  “It was the shift, Zeta. This…this eidolon the AsZar warned Pentanimir about has created some imbalance. The fracture she spoke of has widened, and we’re sensitive to its effects. All our family has some sort of connection beyond our understanding. From what I’m told, it began with our father.” He caressed her cheek. “Raithym isn’t in any danger. I promise. Both Tardison and Ayrmeis are experiencing the same.”

  “No, Dani, no. None of this makes any sense. You’d never speak it aloud, but Raithym isn’t your natural son. He shouldn’t be affected by any of this. I want my son back. Why can’t they make him whole again?”

  Danimore shook his head, not wanting to reveal Raithym’s parentage. Zeta was tormented enough, and he couldn’t fathom what would happen if she learned that Draizeyn Vereux was Raithym’s sire. Eventually, he’d have to tell her, and he dreaded that truth.

  “My seed didn’t cause him to grow, but I’m no less his father. Raithym is a Benoist, just like Ayrmeis. Regardless of their birth fathers, they are part of our line. Our family. The bonds we share transcend their sires. Don’t you understand? This is our son, Zeta. From before his birth until the end of time, Raithym will always be my son.”

  Tears rimmed Zeta’s eyes as she stared down at her sleeping son. She did see herself in him. This was her son.

  “How do we explain this to him?” she said. “He’s supposed to be three, Dani.”

  “There will be no need. Neither Raithym nor our nephews will be aware of the rapid changes. Once they’ve matured, I’m certain that will change, but not now. The Guardians have watch over them…and us. Please, don’t be afraid.”

  “How can I not? You said this eidolon manipulated our son’s being. How do we know that she won’t try to kill him? If he continues growing at this rate, he’ll soon be an old man.”

  “No, only the next three seasons will be met with such changes. Once he’s reached nine and ten, he’ll age normally again. I didn’t understand everything Ahvixx explained, but that is certain.”

  Pentanimir stared at his sons, playing together on the floor. Tardison was now a boy of six, and Ayrmeis was four. Of everything they’d faced thus far, he feared this the most. It wasn’t merely the aberrant changes in his sons, but more so what those changes meant for their futures.

  He found it difficult to contemplate Faélondul’s fate, when the uncertainty of his sons and ne
phew continuously plagued his mind.

  “What is it? What has happened?” Brahanu asked.

  Pentanimir shuddered again, feeling gelid pricks trickling down his spine.

  “I don’t know. I just felt some…some…I don’t know,” he said, draping an arm over her shoulder and drawing her nearer. “It could be nothing.”

  Brahanu glanced over at her sons and back to him. “Your eyes don’t speak the same. What’s wrong? Is it our children?”

  “It was merely a chill, but I’ll speak with Ahvixx when he returns. His connection isn’t only with the Guardians and Protectors, he’s connected with our children as well. He can feel their presence and any shifts that might occur. Everything is so new, Brahanu, and it’ll take more time to become accustomed to such vagaries.” He shook his head. “Ayrmeis is supposed to be younger than Eytan, but now, he’s the older brother.”

  “What about Tardison? He’s Eytan’s twin. I was comforted that they would grow together and share that bond. But in a year’s time, Tardison will be eight and ten, a man grown, and nearly the age of his father.”

  Pentanimir hadn’t thought of that corollary. Eytan would continue to mature naturally, yet it wouldn’t be the same for his brothers. When Tardison’s age progression ceased, Pentanimir would be merely five and twenty. Tardison would appear more his brother than his son.

  “We won’t know until we do,” he said. “Regardless of these changes, they’ll always be brothers. Nothing will ever change this.”

  “How are we supposed to conceal this from the populace? Everyone has seen both Tardison and Eytan at your inauguration. They’ll look for him as a boy, not a man.”

  “No one will know. How could they? The changes will be gradual over the next three seasons, and neither will leave the safety of the citadel.”

  “No one? Look at your son,” she said, motioning toward the three boys. “Tardison is unmistakable.”