“Thank you for the invitation, Zaxson. When Beilzen informed me of the meeting, I was definitely intrigued.”
“Then, I’ll come right to the point. I have a proposition that I’d like you to consider.”
“A—a proposition?”
“Yes. As you’re aware, we’ve been implementing numerous changes in Nazil.”
“Yes, Zaxson,” Perrin said, glancing at Nzuri and Symeon. The two were stark reminders of merely a few of those changes.
“We’re still working to fill integral positions in the citadel and the temple. Now that the Jasiri have arrived to assist with the citadel’s protection, we must focus on other issues that have yet to be resolved.”
“What issues, Zaxson?”
“Now that the temple’s restoration is complete, we can begin populating the offices and dorter.”
“The—the dorter?”
“The dorter is for High Priest Nzuri’s new heldings. I’m pleased that two dozen have arrived from the cities and villages.”
“Yes,” Nzuri agreed. “Lord de Braose, you previously held a position in the temple tending the Cha’s financial records. From what I’m told, you held this position longer than anyone else. Both the Zaxson and his brothers have spoken highly of your character and your competence. With such high praise, I believe you’re the best candidate to fill this unoccupied position. You can select the office of your choosing and hire an assistant, if need be.”
Perrin was astonished. “You’re offering me a position in the temple?”
“Why would we not?” Pentanimir said. “Never have your abilities or integrity ever been in doubt. My father respected you, and I’ve never forgotten that you challenged Draizeyn’s ruling when he’d thrown Jabrail Qureshi in the cells.”
“What say you, Father?” Beilzen asked when Perrin didn’t respond.
“Yes,” Perrin said, barely containing his surprise. I—I’d be honored. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“I thank you for your acceptance. Loyalties are in question, and it’s difficult to find those we can trust. Just as with your son, I’m pleased to count you among them.”
“Thank you, Zaxson,” the men said in tandem.
“Now, if you’d excuse me, I’m due in the audience hall,” Pentanimir said.
Beilzen and Perrin stood, bowing as the men left the room. They exited behind them, starting toward the nursery.
Perrin smiled, glancing at his son. After his allegiance with Oxilon, Perrin thought he’d lost him. That fear was almost brought into fruition after his torture in the dark chamber. But with the Vereux’ fall, Beilzen began to truly live. Perrin couldn’t have been prouder than he felt that very moment.
“What has your mind, Father?” Beilzen asked, halting.
“I’m thinking of how proud you’ve made me. I’ve always been proud of you, Beilzen, but it’s even more so now. You’re again the man that I nurtured and raised.”
“Had I only listened to you,” Beilzen said. “I wouldn’t have strayed from the man you knew.”
“No, my son. Without experiencing some hardships, we couldn’t appreciate the enormity of our blessings. I never want anyone to suffer as you did, but the past cannot be changed. It was through that suffering, that you found yourself. I’ll think of only this, and not the cruelty that brought you to this point.”
“I didn’t forswear or disregard your advice and guidance, Father. You were right, and I regret the pain I caused you. When you visited the citadel as I healed, I couldn’t express the sorrow I felt at your grief.”
“My grief?”
“Yes. Seeing you grieve for me caused more pain than I could ever fathom. Mother died when I was but eight and we only had each other. You continued being both my mother and father, putting all your energies into me.
“Yet, neither my stature nor prowess matched the other boys my age. I was continuously belittled and mocked. Over the years, it festered, and I attempted to become something more, to alter who I was, who you’d raised me to be.
“I’m your only son, and I nearly lost everything ignoring your wisdom and guidance. Not until learning about Fáelán did I begin to realize the depth of your love and your pain. Like you, I didn’t inflict the harm upon Fáelán, but knowing that it happened and being powerless to stop it, grieves a father like none other. I’m sorry for causing such pain for you.”
“No, I should’ve been more understanding. You are my son, and I was proud of your accomplishments. However, I wasn’t the one enduring the slights and mistreatment. I wanted you to see yourself as I did, but it’s difficult when others constantly force you to see something to the contrary. Their words sting and linger like the bite of one hundred vipers. I should’ve been more sensitive to that.”
Beilzen nodded, biting back his emotion. “Would you like to join me for noon meal in the hall? I’d like you to stay a while longer.”
“Are you certain that the Zaxson would allow it?”
“I am. Fáelán enjoys dining in the hall anytime that we’re able. He’s in the nursery now with Dalia. In fact, Allister d’Garrion should be dining with us as well.”
“Allister?”
“Yes, he’s accepted a position, too. He’s still mourning the loss of his daughter, and the Zaxson hopes that this interaction will help with his healing. Hushar has been integral with the furtherance of his recovery. In truth, she’s invaluable to everyone here, especially me. After some of my past behavior, I didn’t think she or any of the Benoists would be forgiving.”
“Hushar? The former citadel attendant?”
“Yes. Temian and Thalassa are her children with Manifir Benoist.”
“Oh, yes. Yes. I remember. So much has happened, Beilzen, and it’s difficult to recall such details.
“Hushar, I remember well from years past. She’s always been a remarkable woman, despite the atrocities committed by our former leaders.” He sighed. “I think I that I will join you in the hall. Mayhaps I’ll have the opportunity to speak with Hushar.”
“I’m sure she’d welcome that.”
“As would I.”
Victims
“How is he?” Aronin asked, rushing through the door.
Shyla couldn’t respond, collapsing into his arms, and crying uncontrollably. Aronin drew her into him, understanding that he alone held the woman upright. He moved to the divan, sitting down to console her.
“He’s resting now,” a voice called from across the room.
“Jarin?”
“Shyla sent a message to the citadel, too,” Jarin said. “Once Eithrig described his attackers, it was prudent for her to do so.”
“Attackers?”
“There were three, according to Eithrig. He’ll be able to tell us more once he wakes. After the healer tended his wounds, he gave Eithrig some dream wine to help him rest.”
“If he was attacked, what about Shyla and their son? What are you doing to protect them?” Aronin asked.
“The stationed guards will remain. Until we know more, we intend to keep them well protected.”
Aronin nodded, raising Shyla’s face to his. “We’ll find the people responsible. This, I promise.”
“Mayhaps Shyla should see the healer as well, Aronin. She needs to rest, and there isn’t anything more that we can do, for now. Besides, my father wanted to see you at the citadel.”
“He’s right, Shyla,” Aronin said. “Get some rest and I’ll return on the morrow. You can do Eithrig little good if you’re tired.”
She nodded, standing and then moving down the corridor.
After leaving instructions for the guards, Jarin and Aronin retrieved their mounts, making their way back to the citadel.
♦
“What did Eithrig tell you about his assailants?” Aronin asked.
“Not much,” Jarin said. “Guards found him naked and trussed in the filth of the lowers. At first glance, they thought him to be a derelict, but as they approached, Eithrig was regaining consciousness. They
immediately called for the cart and returned him to his home. After which, Shyla asked them to fetch you and sent a rider here.”
“From where was he abducted?” Aronin asked.
“They took him after he left the market. Once Eithrig was out of sight of the tower, the men abducted him and threw him in the cart.”
Aronin’s jaw clenched. “What men?”
“Apparently, they kept their faces shielded, and not even their voices rang familiar,” Jarin said. “But he did recognize one man. It was Molag, and he was ordering the others.”
“Molag?” Urdan and Aronin blurted in unison.
Jarin nodded. “Molag Bomgaard has returned to Yarah, it seems. He had his men torture Eithrig.”
“Torture?” Aronin said. “By the gods, Jarin, why?”
“Molag wanted information regarding the men seen moving toward Nazil,” Jarin said.
“The Zaxson hasn’t told us hardly anything about the warriors. Why, then, would they abduct Eithrig?”
“Because of you and your ties to the white city. It’s no secret that you and Eithrig are close. Molag must’ve believed that you were privy to the information.”
“What?” Aronin stood, exasperated. “Eithrig said this?”
“He did. They repeated the same questions, beating him when the replies weren’t satisfactory.”
Aronin lowered to his seat, shaking his head. His hands were balled into fists, digesting the new information and the possible implications. He never wanted Eithrig involved in this. Now, because of their friendship, he’d been brutalized.
Urdan poured some liquor, setting a glass down in front of Aronin. He gulped it down quickly, and then accepted another.
“What did that bastard do to him?” Aronin asked, finally.
“Would knowing make this any easier?” Urdan asked.
“I’m going to see Eithrig on the morrow. Before I do, I’ll know what that hedgeborn codpiece had done to him.”
Urdan sighed, motioning to his son as he poured another drink.
“Eithrig won’t be able to face you,” Jarin said. “The skin on his back is all but gone due to the lash.”
Aronin’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “He’s a highborn son of Yarah and that yaldson Molag dared to lash him?”
“That and more, I’m afraid. One of Eithrig’s eyes is completely swollen shut. The healer feels that the damage might be irrevocable.
“Four of his fingers are broken, and mayhaps, his leg. Until the swelling subsides, we won’t know for certain.
“Due to numerous contusions, the healer shaved Eithrig’s head. Thus far, there’s no permanent damage, but his healing won’t be swift. It’s a blessing that he survived at all.”
Aronin couldn’t stop his tears of rage. He pushed to stand, pacing around the room.
“Have you sent word to Pentanimir?”
“Not as yet,” Urdan said. “I plan to do so on the morrow once we’ve spoken to Eithrig. The Zaxson warned us about Molag’s possible return. Now, we know he’s here, and more dangerous than before.”
“No one has seen him?” Aronin asked, leaning on the table.
“No one who’ll admit it. One of the guards saw someone fitting his description entering the Wheelhouse not long ago. After Eithrig was discovered, the guards returned, but Molag wasn’t there.”
“Are they still searching for him, Urdan? He must still be in the village.”
“Of course. When he’s found, they’ll bring him to the citadel. But from what Pentanimir said, there’s some influential men aiding Molag now. He’s to be feared.”
“No,” Aronin said. “He’s to be found.”
Jarin moved between them, hoping to end the tension, but before he could intervene, a knock sounded on the door. He raised a hand to the men, moving to open it.
“Gwendolyn? Why are you here? I told you that I’d be in conference with my father.”
“Beg pardon,” she said. “I just needed to see you.”
Jarin pressed his lips together, stifling the coming retort. After learning about the attack, both his mother and Gwendolyn feared him going out. Coming here was a means for her to ensure he was safe.
After taking a steadying breath, he raised her hand to his lips. “Why don’t you wait for me in my chambers. Once our meeting is concluded, I’ll join you there.”
“In your chambers?” she asked, as a smile alit her face.
“Yes. I won’t be long. Have a bath drawn and await me there.”
“Yes, husband,” Gwendolyn said, moving down the corridor with her guard.
“Your wife worries, Jarin, and grows tired of being alone in her bed.”
“None of us are free from worry,” Jarin said, closing the door. “Molag is a maniac and must be stopped before anyone else is harmed.”
“Agreed. Even so, you can’t neglect your wife. She doesn’t deserve such treatment.”
“Conversation for another time, Father. Our focus is finding Molag and his men. They’ve grown bold of late, and we must increase the guard.”
Aronin nodded. “We can do more than that.”
“If you have thoughts, share them,” Urdan said. “This violence must be ended.”
“If the men who traveled to Nazil are aiding the Zaxson, mayhaps he could station some here, too. Our guards are overwhelmed, and some might agree with Molag’s position. If the Zaxson could send twenty guards, we could capture Molag and learn about the others who are in league with him.”
“Aronin, those men are human. Making such a move could cause more harm than good. Let us first learn more about this attack from Eithrig. If we’re left with no other choice, I’ll consider speaking with the Zaxson. For now, it’s too soon for such rash actions.”
“Too soon?” Aronin nearly shouted. “Would you think the same if it was your son who was attacked?”
“Be calm, Lord Thaon,” Jarin said. “Both your tone and demeanor are bordering on disrespect. We know how close you are to Eithrig, but that doesn’t negate the respect you’ll offer to my father.”
Aronin took a deep breath, tempering his tone. “You’re right, and I apologize,” he said, pulling on his gloves. “Thinking about Molag roaming free while Eithrig lies suffering made me forget myself.”
“It’s understandable,” Urdan said. “We’ll find where Molag is hiding, and once we do, he’ll be facing the headsman’s ax.”
Only if you find him first, Aronin thought. “Thank you, Caretaker, Jarin,” he said. “The hour grows late, and my wife will worry if I don’t return soon. I’ll come on the morrow after visiting Eithrig.”
“Yes. Be safe, Lord Thaon. The streets of Yarah have become dangerous.”
Aronin inclined his head, swiftly leaving the room. When Jarin attempted the same, Urdan stopped him.
“Father, Gwendolyn is waiting,” he said, not wanting to hear his chiding.
“Indeed, she is. From what I’m told, she’s been doing so nearly every night since your bond.”
Jarin rolled his eyes. “Again, with this? Now you believe whispers of the citadel?”
“Those whispers ring with more truth than the confessions in the temple,” he said. “Jarin, I know that you didn’t want to wed, but Gwendolyn loves you. She’s a beautiful young woman who wants nothing more than to please her husband. Why can’t you even try to return those feelings?”
“Just because I prefer my own chambers doesn’t mean that I don’t lay with my wife. I’ve gone to her several times and then returned to my bed. I’ve married who you wanted and the conditions in Faélondul have worsened, not gotten better. I could’ve wed Lady Voney, and the result would be the same. Instead, she married some lowborn ex-priest from Noraa.”
“Don’t speak so. The Four have blessed you with a wonderful wife. If you’d stop comparing her with Sahma Voney, mayhaps you’d realize this. You’re not a child, Jarin, not anymore. Had you wed Sahma, I’m certain things would be worse, especially in Yarah. Gwendolyn is a good match. Don’t
judge her against the perfection you perceive in Sahma. It isn’t fair to her or to your marriage.”
Urdan rested a hand on his shoulder. “Jarin, there’s too much danger and uncertainty surrounding us, and I fear that more is coming before we see the end of this. Enjoy the love and comfort of your wife. Allow your heart to open and you’ll find yourself caring for her, mayhaps even more than you have for Sahma. Don’t continue in your misery.”
Jarin nodded, as they left the solar. His mind couldn’t stay on Molag or Eithrig. Sahma occupied his thoughts. And it was she that he would envisage as he made love to his wife.
The Purest Kind
Ceron chuckled, tossing the ball back to the boys as she leaned on her elbows. Spending this time with Raithym caused her to think more about her own son. It had been years since Draizeyn had forced him from her arms, selling him to the highest bidder. At that time, she didn’t think she’d recover, but her grief hadn’t mattered to the former leaders.
The same night they’d taken her son away, Draizeyn called for her and Symeon. The memories of those violations still haunted her at times, but it was comforting to walk the corridors now, knowing she was free.
She looked at the boys again, thinking about her son. Ceron recalled every detail of his face, and how he favored his father. A small smile creased her lips then. He’d been the only man that she’d loved…that she still loved, and he was forever gone.
Braydon , she thought, slowly closing her eyes. Ceron focused on that image, on the sounds that he made when he laughed. He was her only son, and she needed some way to find him. Even knowing where he’d been taken was little consolation. The slaves were freed after the war, but what about the children? If no one came to claim them, would they remain in servitude?
Ceron didn’t have any answers, but she intended to find her son. If Braydon was alive, she was going to bring him to Nazil with her.
“What has yer mind?” Micah asked, nudging her shoulder.
Ceron flinched. “No—nothin’ much. I’m just thinkin’ on some things.”
“I’m seein’ that. What things?”
“Nothin’ really, I’m just enjoyin’ playin’ with my boys.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 144