“Do the Drah’kuu’s blessings cover the relic?”
“They do,” Osei said, turning and lifting the dark acacia chest from the table. As he handed the coffer to Ahvixx, he shuddered from the energies encased within it.
“Thank you, Uzon Osei. May the Guardians’ blessings always be with you.” Ahvixx stared at the coffer, tracing the mark etched on the top with his fingertips. As he raised the lid, the glimmer in his eyes intensified. The chest was lined with a silken material with indentations to fit the key and rod. He rested his hand in the key’s incurvate, knowing it would soon be filled. With a nod of appreciation, Ahvixx closed the lid, facing the Uzon again.
“Have you retrieved both halves of the si’val tak isfan , the key?” Turahn asked.
“Yes, Uzon. Both are protected in Afferea until the time is upon us. The second fragment was removed from the Dessalonian Mountains by Mah’saahc’s manipulations. The most unlikely of men relinquished the fragment and has continued to aid us.”
“Isn’t this always the way, Ke’ohnzi?” Turahn asked. “Would you have thought yourself such an essential part of Faélondul’s fate?”
“No, never would I have thought myself worthy. If you were aware of my past, you’d understand my sentiment.”
The Uzon nodded. “Your past is known to me. The Guardians imparted much to Drah’kuu Malachi. He was aware of you, before you were aware of yourself.
“Your past can’t dictate your future. When the time is upon us, those of greater purpose rise to that which must be done.”
“Is this why you’ve come?” Ahvixx asked. “I’m aware of your distaste for Nazil.”
“I neither hold any enmity toward Nazil nor Nazilians. I do not judge a society by the malignancy of its leaders. I knew I’d need to return, and the Jasiri always answer the summons.
“Before the message reached us, we had already prepared. The AsZar leaving the Animus Wood was troubling for us. When we learned of the children’s acceleration, we knew the time was upon us. At our meeting’s end, I’ll need to meet the one called Ayrmeis.”
Ahvixx’s eyes glimmered. “Your interest is beyond that of Mah’saahc.”
“It is, and so is Drah’kuu Malachi’s. Even if Symeon hadn’t spoken it, I was aware that Sarai was Ayrmeis’ mother. Therefore, my nephew is his true father. Ayrmeis will be a Jasiri Warrior, as such, he must partake of the essence of his people. Then, he’ll be truly prepared.”
Ahvixx nodded. “I understand. Is there more you need of me?”
“Only you can restore the si’val tak isfan , Ke’ohnzi, just as there is only one capable of wielding it.”
“I’ve been awaiting the arrival of the chest,” Ahvixx said. “Only within can the fragments of the si’val tak isfan be merged. When the time is upon us, Ayrmeis will restore the she’naad t’reyUhm , and the scepter of the divine will be complete.”
“The time will be short. Have they discovered the one who serves this darkness?”
“Not as yet. Once the Zaxson questions the Cha, more might be learned.”
“I pray so. Albeit, I fear the Cha’s assistance will be insignificant.”
When Ahvixx’s eyes flickered, he set the chest aside, stepping closer to Turahn. “The Ohor,” he said, bemused. “You’re aware of their stirrings?”
“Not much passes Malachi’s notice. After Tesu’s appearance, all thresholds but one was shielded from the Ohor,” the Uzon said, sliding the kytrahwan [102] from his shoulders, exposing the Isfand Jihirosha [103] glyph at the nape of his neck.
As Ahvixx rested a hand over the glyph, his eyes closed, linking their minds as one.
Few Jasiri bore the mark. The Isfand Jihirosha was usually bestowed upon a Drah’kuu, however, Turahn Osei was dissimilar from most Uzons, and after experiencing the meld, Ahvixx understood not only Turahn’s prime objective, but he realized the complexities and possible commination of the Ohor’s advent into the light world.
As Ahvixx severed the connection, he stared at the Uzon quizzically, deciphering the myriad images and sensations imparted to him. Past, present, and future events cascaded through his mind, revealing probable outcomes of decisions yet to be made.
This was not an end. It was merely a catalyst for an alternate beginning.
“If the Ohor cross into the light world, the AsZar has ensured they’ll be able to enter through Dessalonia alone,” Turahn said, breaking Ahvixx’s trance.
He nodded, focusing on the present. “The Ohor have felt the shifts permeating around us. They will come, and when they do, we’ll meet them and learn their true purpose. For now, we must focus on the immediate circumstances.”
“Agreed. Take me to see the child.”
Ahvixx bowed, motioning to the door.
“Be on your guard,” Pentanimir whispered, drawing his Xtabyren. “There might be guards inside.”
The men peered down the darkened streets, sidling against the outer wall. Thus far, they hadn’t met with any resistance, or seen many denizens in the sparsely populated area.
Before the war, most of the surrounding homes would’ve been abuzz with activity. Now, many sat empty or were abandoned by their previous owners. Pentanimir attempted to keep such thoughts from his mind, and focus on the possible danger ahead. However, he couldn’t fully concentrate on the future, whilst facing corollaries of the past.
Symeon upraised a hand, gesturing to his men. As Temian and Wosen slipped around the side, taking position near the rear exit, Hanif and Jishnu slid their cowls back, silently disappearing inside.
Gripping his pommel’s hilt, Nakaris closed their ranks, encircling the Zaxson. A quarter glass appeared more a turn as the men waited, scrutinizing their surroundings.
“The guards are dead,” Hanif said, stepping through the door. “It looks as if their necks were broken.” He sheathed his sword, regarding the Zaxson. “The one you seek suffered a far worse fate. He’s in a room at the end of the corridor.”
“Lead us to him.”
Before they’d reached the guards bodies, the stench of putrescent flesh filled their nostrils. Pentanimir covered his nose and mouth, following behind his men.
When they entered the chilly room, Temian and Pentanimir exchanged a look, proceeding through the open door. Sheathing his sword, Pentanimir stepped forward, sliding the stained cover from the man’s body.
“He bears the same mark,” Pentanimir said, pointing.
The old man’s face had darkened, with one glassy, swollen eye, partially open. He looked as if his skin had been painfully stretched, and then forced back into its original form.
Beneath his swollen lid, his veined streaked eye had rolled up, revealing only white. Whoever he had been, he was no more.
Shaking his head, Pentanimir stepped back, sickened by the horrid bruises and contusions covering the man’s naked body. His face was unrecognizable, and only the season’s cold had kept the maggots and insects away.
“It’s Cha Lymbach,” Temian said, scrutinizing the mangled corpse. “That’s the ring he always wore.”
“Are you certain?” Pentanimir asked.
“I’m certain. Notice the paler indentation beneath? This ring hasn’t been removed for some time, and only the withered flesh caused it to loosen. It’s Cha Lymbach. The former Cha Asham of Nazil.”
“What does this mean, Zaxson?” Nakaris asked.
“It means that Molag has killed his benefactor, and the last Cha of Nazil.”
“But why? If Cha Lymbach was aiding Molag, why would he murder him?”
“Molag killed him because he didn’t need him any longer. The eidolon has taken possession over Molag Bomgaard, which makes him both extremely dangerous and powerful. Molag is Mah’saahc’s vessel, and she possesses the true power.”
Insidious
Tolnain leaned back in his seat, propping his feet up on the table. Pulling the balaclava up higher over his face, he adjusted his cowl, eyeing the boisterous crowd.
Most of the men were labor
ers, or vagrants passing through town. He’d familiarized himself with the usual patrons of the Mane and Tail, and ensured they knew him as well. In order to achieve his goals, he needed the right men under his command.
When he noticed a new serving maid, he sat up, leaning forward on the table. Tolnain grinned, inspecting her from toe to head.
“You’ll do quite nicely, Dearling,” he murmured, gesturing to the man behind the counter. After setting a gold coin on the table, he leaned back again, pulling his cloak around him.
“Ya need’n me, milord?” Imryl said, wearily approaching the table. He knew enough about Tolnain to offer the proper respect. Imryl had seen many of his patrons at the end of the volatile man’s sword.
Tolnain gestured to the coin, and then to the bottle Imryl held. When he reached to take the gold, Tolnain’s arm shot forward, stabbing his dagger into the table. “Tsk…tsk…tsk. Surely, you haven’t forgotten our arrangement.”
Imryl glanced around, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. “Par—pardons, milord. I ain’t forgot.” He sat the bottle down, pouring Tolnain’s liquor.
“One of them brothers ya asked ‘bout was here not long ago.”
“Only one? Which was it?”
“I ain’t know’n no names and such. But…but it weren’t that one with them things on the side of his head. It—it was that shorter one with the eyes.”
“Déshì Tân,” Tolnain said, nodding. “What did he want?”
“Ain’t sure. He come in with that Chosen. You know’n that big one up in Nazil. They drank a bit and he give him somethin’. Didn’t even have a meal, just drank and left.”
Tolnain sat up then. “The First Chosen? The one with the markings and braid?”
“That be the one. Ain’t seen him in here much, though. The Zaxson’s brothers come through from time to time, but they don’t bother comin’ in here. They go on over to the citadel mostly.”
“That’s interesting. I’ll be certain to pay the Caretaker a visit soon, and inquire about his most prestigious guests. With the difficulties I’ve heard the Zaxson is facing, I’m surprised he’d send his brothers here.” He grinned. “The roads have become unsafe for the Benoists, it seems. Was there anyone else with him?”
Imryl looked around again, leaning in closer. “I hears Joseph been ask’n fer more guards. Been ‘bout a dozen new ones comin’ in here.”
“Truly. Well, I’ll ensure to introduce myself. Now,” Tolnain said, removing the dagger. “What did Déshì give the Chosen?”
“Ain’t know’n that either. Whatever it was, he had it wrapped up in some kind’a cloth.”
Tolnain considered that, glancing around the common room. When he saw the young maid again, he gestured in her direction. “Who might that be?”
“That’n there? She come ‘round here a bit ago, looking fer a place to stay. Used to be up in Yarah ‘til the Zaxson freed them slaves. She works well ‘nough, but ain’t been broken in just yet. B’sides, ain’t no one ‘round here got ‘nough coin to pay for fillin’ that one up. I’m save’n her special.”
“See that you continue to do so,” Tolnain said, jiggling his full coin purse. “She’s half-human?”
“She is at that. Don’t no one care ‘bout that, though. They’s save’n their coin to be the first to git ‘tween them thighs. They some nice thighs, too. Hells, I’m tempted to do so m’self.” He looked at her again, calming the rise beneath his apron. “But I’m need’n the coin more’n I’m want’n to open up that hole.”
Tolnain smirked, adjusting his balaclava. “I’ll need my usual accommodations for the next six suns. Have a meal sent up and water heated for a bath.” He stood, grabbing up the bottle. “I’ll be sending more men here soon. Take care of them, and keep your eyes open. If everything goes as planned, you won’t need to choose between satisfying your cock or filling your pockets. You can have both in abundance.”
Lost and Found
Zeta gazed down at Ihnat, rocking him in her arms. They sat alone in the carriage, awaiting Danimore’s return. She hadn’t realized how being in Noraa would affect her, but she knew that she had to come. Though she worried about leaving Raithym in Nazil, she could no longer ignore this part of her life—of her past.
This was only the beginning if she wanted to truly heal. Her heart still mourned what had been lost. As she watched her son age, her mind wouldn’t calm. It was time to face her past in order to embrace her future.
At the same time, she was afraid. This was no longer her home, and yet, it was. Nothing and everything seemed familiar. Even the smithy’s smell was the same.
It hadn’t changed.
She gasped, hearing Jansen’s chuckle. The tears spilled down her cheeks as the memories of that sound caused her heart to ache. She was both terrified and heartbroken at the same time. Zeta wanted to rush from the carriage and wrap him in a crushing hug. But she remained tethered to her cushioned seat, unable to move.
“Gods,” she murmured, peering out the narrow slit of the carriage drapes. Jansen stood next to her husband, wearing the same heavy apron that she remembered. The black soot from the metal stained his cheeks, intermixing with his fire-red hair. Hair that was beginning to thin, she noted.
Jansen was still tall and slender with the same large, green eyes. She smiled then, knowing that he was well. Although she’d been enslaved, and his brother killed, Jansen had survived. That, at least, brought her some peace, as she dried her eyes, peering out the window again.
An immediate smile found her face, watching Danimore test the sword’s balance. “Noraalian steel,” she muttered, noticing the intricacies and patterns in the blade. Only here could such fine work be crafted.
She stared at them for a few moments more before reaching to close the drapes. But when a figure emerged from the smithy’s side, she opened them wider instead.
“Radich,” she breathed, leaning closer.
Zeta’s tears began anew, observing the young man feeding the forge. His corded arms bulged and glistened as he continued to complete his chores.
“Radich,” she said again, moistening her lips. The sight of him still excited her, just as it had in her youth. Years of working as a smith had toned his body even more than she’d remembered. Radich’s long, dark hair was bound, hanging down the middle of his back. Though his eyes were shielded, Zeta recalled how she’d loved their rich honey coloring, deep-set and round. How she loved his eyes. At that moment, she imagined a life with him, a life that could no longer be.
“Does he yet love me?” A wistful smile formed on her lips, that didn’t reach her eyes. The pain she’d suffered the past years beset her mind, stealing all the happiness from it.
“Does he yet love me?” she said again, feeling those past emotions resurrecting. Not until that very moment did she realize the love she felt for him. Radich was her promised, and he’d loved her above all others. If not for the Nazilian ambush, they would’ve already been married. How her life would’ve been more joyous had she’d stayed in Noraa.
When Jansen chuckled again, she released the drape, staring at the child in her arms. More than ever, she noticed his Nazilian features. Zeta’s fingers caressed the wisps of white hair atop his head. As she withdrew her hand, she paused, noting the stark differences in their tone.
“You’re my son. Just like Godfrey, you’re my son.” She repeated those words, desperately attempting to convince herself of their veracity. But as she spoke them again, looking down at him, her heart felt contrariwise.
This was not her son. No matter how much she loved his father, Ihnat was not her son. Nikolina d’Garrion was his mother, the woman who’d ravished her husband and caused Godfrey’s death.
With that thought, she moved Ihnat further from her, seeing only the face of his mother. “Nikolina,” she sneered, turning away from him.
Zeta leaned forward again, staring at Radich pounding the steel on the anvil. Memories of their time together sent a warmth through her. She couldn’t stop her
mind from wondering what could’ve been…what should’ve been…what could still be.
Zeta gasped, wide-eyed, as Danimore climbed in beside her, showing her the sword. “It—it’s beautiful,” she said, feigning the best smile that she could manage. The ictus of her heart rang in her ears while she tried to exude calm.
“Indeed,” he said, leaning to kiss her. “It was the finest that he had to offer. I’ve commissioned two more.”
“Two?”
“Yes, for Raithym and Ihnat. Both shall wield the swords crafted by the hands of a true master…by their grandfather.”
Zeta couldn’t respond. She nodded, lowering her gaze.
“Zeta? What’s wrong? Is it Raithym?” he asked, caressing her face.
“No. No, Dani, I know that Ceron is taking the greatest care of Raithym. I—it’s difficult. I just—”
“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t consider how much seeing your father would affect you. You haven’t seen him in years, and I can’t fathom how you must feel. Mayhaps you should go to him.”
“No, I couldn’t. Not now.”
“He loves you, Zeta. You’re his daughter…his only daughter. Do you know how joyous he’d be learning that you’re alive?” Danimore cupped her chin, kissing her softly. “He’d thank the gods for bringing you back into his life.”
“No, Dani, not now. I wanted to see him…to know that he was all right. For now, that’s enough. We must return to Nazil, and if I went to my father, I’d need to stay here with him,” she said. “In time, I will return, and greet him properly. For now, my place is in Nazil, at my husband’s side.”
Old and New
When the two men approached the doors, six Jasiri stood guard in the corridor. Perrin swallowed hard, nervously glancing over at his son.
“Lord de Braose,” a guard said. “The Zaxson, First Chosen, and High Priest await you.”
“Thank you,” Beilzen said, respectfully inclining his head.
When they entered the solar, Pentanimir gestured for them to sit. “Perrin,” Pentanimir said, addressing him in the familiar as not to confuse the two. “I’m glad that you could come on such short notice.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 143