“Do you believe that I feel differently? I come to you to help you in your endeavors, not jeopardize your livelihood. What I offer would cause you to lose nothing.”
“Nothing?” Joseph scoffed. “It’s treachery. With Molag roaming free, the Zaxson is cautious. Rhoyden may be a new village, but we receive the news from Nazil. Molag’s men attempted to kill the Zaontras and her son. I don’t blame the Zaxson for implementing more restrictions. Had it been my wife and children at risk, I’d do the same.”
“And me as well,” the man conceded. “I’m only here to warn you of what’s to come. You receive news from Nazil, but you don’t reside there as I do. I hear much, my friend.”
“As do I.” Joseph’s brow raised. “From what I hear, your time in Nazil has been short. There isn’t much known about you, not even your name. That alone is worth my suspicion.”
“If it pleases you, you may call me Tolnain.” He bowed. “For now, that’s enough. Nazil may be new to me, but Faélondul isn’t. I travel much and hear even more. Both these things are to your benefit.”
“What would you have of me? We don’t even have a full contingent in the village. There are but twenty.”
“And we’ll take advantage of that fact. I ask little and it won’t be soon. Once my words are made real, you’ll see. At that time, I’ll call upon you. Not before.” He smirked. “Not every member of the Zaxson’s family travels with the Jasiri. At times, they do so alone.”
“I’ll make no move against the Benoists,” Joseph said.
“Nor am I asking for you to do so. I only ask that you keep watch, and learn of those we can…trust .” Tolnain adjusted his cowl, moving toward the door.
“I’ve taken a room at the Mane and Tail. If you have any information for me, tell Imryl, and he’ll ensure that I receive your message. More men will come in aid to the both of us. Mayhaps some will even join the citadel guard,” Tolnain paused, looking back at Joseph over his shoulder. “Much is taking place in Faélondul. Once Molag is captured, tensions will ease, as will the guards assigned to keep watch. Be ready, my friend.”
Renewing of the Heart
“Are you certain that we won’t disturb Dalia and Beilzen?” Hushar said. “With everything that’s happened, they’ll need time to adjust.”
“There’s been sufficient time,” Perrin said. “In fact, Beilzen would welcome the sight of his father entertaining such a lovely woman. It’s been so long, I feared I’d forgotten how.”
Hushar chuckled. “You certainly haven’t lost any of your charm.”
“From you, Lady Saussai, that’s truly a compliment,” he said, raising her hand to his lips. “So, you’ll join us for evening meal on the morrow?”
“I will, and thank you for the invitation. I mentioned Dalia and Beilzen needing to adjust, but I need to do the same. Not since Hyorin have I been shown such attention.”
“I plan to show you much and more,” Perrin said. “I’ve seen you for years, but I could never truly know you. In the past, I was pleased when you’d accept my kindness, or even allow me to offer it.
“You had no cause to trust me then, or even to befriend me now.” Perrin squeezed her hand, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to say it, Hushar, I’m just glad that things are different now. When I think back over the years, nothing makes sense to me. Nothing.
“What makes me different from you? What’s intrinsic to Nazilians, my appearance, my heritage that makes it better than yours?”
“The only difference festers in the minds of those coveting power to ennoble themselves to feel superior. You’re no different from me, Perrin. Both our hearts beat the same, and allow the same love to find it.”
Perrin stopped, taking her other hand. Despite their recent intimacy, he was still apprehensive. Hushar, however, showed no such restraint, drawing him down for a quick kiss.
After what she’d suffered in Nazil, Hushar hadn’t thought she’d ever desire such closeness again. It was a comfort to feel otherwise, not only the physical gratification, but more so, the emotional. She was reclaiming a part of herself that they’d stolen long ago. She was healing.
“Shall I send a carriage for you?” he asked, continuing down the hall.
“No, thank you. I’m certain that Temian will insist on escorting me.”
“Speaking of.” Perrin gestured forward.
Hushar smiled, watching Temian’s approach. His pearl and gold cloak flowed behind him, looking much like his father used to.
“Mother,” Temian began, and then peered down at Perrin with a questioning look. “Lord de Braose.”
“Yes, Temian,’ Hushar said. “Do you have need of me?”
“The Zaontras has asked to speak with you. I’ll escort you to her.”
“Well, I’ll see you on the morrow, Perrin.”
“The pleasure will be mine, my lady,” Perrin said, kissing her hand before turning to leave.
“What happens on the morrow, Mother?”
“I’m going to share evening meal with Perrin and his family.”
“To what end? First, this—this affair with Allister, and now Perrin. What are you doing, Mother?”
She stopped, turning him to face her. “You do realize that your mother is still a woman?”
“Of course, I do,” he said, exasperated. “You’ll always be a beautiful woman, but people will begin to talk.” He glanced around, leaning closer. “Is it true that you were lying naked with Allister?”
She chuckled, resting a hand on his reddened cheek. “Indeed, and more as well.”
“Mother!”
“Oh, Temian, it isn’t what you think. I merely lay with Allister to provide additional warmth. I’ve done the same with Wosen, Zeta, Micah, Ceron, and Jahno alike. It was innocent, truly.”
He sighed. “I understand your need for companionship, but after what you suffered here…the Nazilians…I don’t…I mean…I can’t understand—”
“How I could ever want a Nazilian to touch me or feel any attraction toward them?”
“Yes.”
“My son, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”
“That isn’t the same. I’m your son.”
“You are, and since your birth, you’ve always resembled your father. It wasn’t easy for us then, either, but I loved you just the same. Just as I loved Manifir.
“Don’t allow past evils to prevent your present joy, or taint your perceptions of all Nazilians for the misdeeds of a few. We are all the same, Temian. Every one of us.”
“We are. I just—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “Tell me: do you love your wife?”
“Arianna? Of course, I love her.”
“Despite the pain Nazilians inflicted on our family? You could still love a Nazilian?”
When his head lowered, she smiled, enfolding him in her arms. “I love you, Temian, and appreciate your concern, but I’m happier now than I’ve been in decades. Allow me to enjoy my children, my grandchildren, and my life.” She took up his hand, moving down the hall. “I’ll be pleased when you and Arianna bless me with a grandchild, too.”
“It isn’t from lack of trying, I assure.”
“In time,” she said, stopping in front of the Zaxson’s chambers. “I love you, Temian.”
“This, I’ve always known.”
Hushar kissed his cheek, before knocking and opening the door.
“You sent for me, Zaontras?”
“Please, Hushar, sit, and call me Brahanu. Such titles would’ve driven my father mad.” Brahanu smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Hushar asked, taking a seat beside her.
“Too many things to mention, and many more to come,” Brahanu said, glancing over at her sons.
“How can I help you? Would you like me to watch the boys while you rest?”
“Thank you, no. That isn’t why I asked you to come. You’ve done so much already, Hushar, and we’re blessed to have you with us.”
Brahanu nodded, fighting to maintain her composure. “I feel much the same, but I can’t stay in Nazil. Not now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need a respite. I mean to visit Cazaal soon, and remain there for some time.”
“Wh—when are you planning to leave?”
“Three suns hence.”
“So soon? Is it safe for you to travel with Molag still free?”
“Kuhani and a dozen Jasiri will escort my caravan. Pentanimir is confident in their ability to protect Eytan and me.”
“Eytan? What about Tardison and Ayrmeis? Are you leaving them behind?”
“I must. No one in Cazaal, save my family, knows about them. Besides, Tardison can’t leave the citadel, and Symeon will resume Ayrmeis’ training upon his return. They’ll both have what they need.”
“They also need their mother, Brahanu. How long do you intend to stay?”
“One full moon, at least.”
“The cold season will be at an end. Your sons could be four years older when you return.”
“I—I know, and that’s another reason for my leaving. My love will be with them, wherever I might be.”
Hushar sighed, hearing in Brahanu’s tone what she refused to speak. “As you say, Lady Benoist, but may I ask something of you?”
“Always.”
“Would you be opposed to Sarai caring for Ayrmeis in your absence?”
“Sarai? I thought she didn’t want to see Ayrmeis. Isn’t this why he was brought to us?”
“That was true in the beginning, but not so now. Sarai’s been taking care of him more than anyone else. She was afraid to have it known, but it’s right that you should know. They’ve developed a bond, and I think it would be best if Sarai kept him while you’re away. He’ll be missing you, Brahanu,” she said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “And Sarai loves Ayrmeis.”
“Love? Does she mean to take him from us?”
Hushar couldn’t discern if Brahanu posed the question out of concern or anticipation. “No, but she’d like to continue being a part of his life. Sarai realizes that she forewent the opportunity to be Ayrmeis’ mother. However, knowing that doesn’t change what lies in her heart, or his.”
“Thank you for letting me know, Hushar. I have no objections to her caring for him, but it would be prudent to ask Pentanimir the same. He sees Ayrmeis as his son,” Brahanu whispered so the children couldn’t hear.
His son? His son, but not hers , Hushar thought.
“I’ll take care of it, my lady.”
“Thank you,” Brahanu said, detaching Eytan from her breast.
Hushar watched how she cradled him lovingly in her arms, and then looked over at Ayrmeis. Brahanu didn’t nurture either Tardison or Ayrmeis, not like she did Eytan. Mayhaps the acceleration of their youth, had shattered the bond between Brahanu and her sons. Hushar was saddened for Brahanu and Tardison, but for Ayrmeis most of all.
Meeting of Importance
Freydon leaned back in his seat, tossing a parchment aside. He rubbed at his eyes, and closed the codex on his desk, sliding it into one of his drawers.
The old priest sighed in resignation, dreading his meeting and what might be said. With the mounting uncertainty in Faélondul, Molag seemed to complicate matters more than he’d helped. In the beginning, Freydon had thought differently. Molag’s vociferous orations maligning the new leaders ignited the rebellion, uniting multitudes of Nazilians. Howbeit, that momentum had been lost after the failed attempt on the Zaontras’ caravan.
Now, Freydon needed to alter his own plans. Aligning himself with Molag could have a detrimental effect. Freydon had to discover a way to distance himself from this rebellion and discontinue any public support. He had to think of himself over the demands from many of his parishioners.
“Fool,” he murmured.
In times past, Freydon could rely upon the insight and notoriety of Nazil’s Cha Asham. Now, the Nazilians looked to him for that guidance. After Cha Lymbach was assassinated during the war, Freydon became head of the Brotherhood. With his elevation also came the responsibility for the future of the Nazilians. Or, at least, that’s what Freydon believed.
The denizens of Yarah offered endless prayers to the Four. Endless lines of worshipers giving whatever they could afford, and ofttimes, what they couldn’t, for Freydon’s blessings.
With that thought, Freydon caressed the large amulet adorning his neck. That, too, had been a gift bestowed upon him…an expensive trinket from a fine house seeking favor.
Freydon shook his head. If the Yarahians knew how powerless he truly was. No help was forthcoming from the Four, and the prayers he offered fell empty. The witches in the Animus Woods had grown more powerful than the gods the Nazilians served. This, he wouldn’t share with anyone else. The Cha’s knowledge of the Guardians was never shared with the populace. There were inscriptions in their text warning of their return to the Animus Wood. However, Freydon had prayed that wouldn’t happen during his lifetime.
He squinted, pinching the bridge of his narrow nose. Yes, he dreaded this meeting and the possible implications of it. Now that Pentanimir had recruited new guards, it would be nearly impossible for the Vereux’ loyalists to gain access to the citadel. Their support had dwindled after the impolitic and brutal assault upon Eithrig Raynes. To have a highborn son of Yarah treated as a derelict of the lowers was an offence that wouldn’t go without notice, or repercussions.
As he reached for a ewer of liquor from beneath his desk, a flicker in his periphery halted him. Freydon stared at the shadows being cast in the corners of the room. He squinted, seeing one waver, and then another. He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes again. When he peered into the recesses of the room, a shadow elongated, slithering from the corner toward his desk.
Freydon gasped, the flame’s silhouette outstretching nearer as he trembled, leaning further away. The hackles on his neck stood on end, witnessing the shadow seemingly transform. As he clutched the arms of his chair, pushing up, loud thumps from the door caused him to yelp. He blinked, staring at the morphing shadow, now lying flat and unmoving.
“En…en...enter.” Freydon’s voice trembled, never looking away from the corner.
“Cha Freydon,” the guard said, bowing. “Dorran Prichard has asked for your audience.”
“Pri—Prichard?”
“Yes, Sir, the smith. He says that he has something of great importance to speak with you about. Should I allow him entry?”
“Yes…yes,” Freydon said, dabbing sweat from his face.
“Are you well, Cha Freydon?”
He cleared his throat, feigning a smile. “Indeed, yes, my prayers have been extensive of late. These abominations and savages in Nazil have caused such discord and dubiety throughout the lands. I—I’m just weary from seeking guidance and protection from the Four.”
“Your prayers are needed and appreciated, Cha Freydon. Only the Four can free us from the evils of the Benoists and the pythonesses they serve.”
“Yes, and we’ll continue to offer them until that time is upon us,” Freydon assured. “Now, please, show in my guest.”
Freydon stood, straightening his cassock, and peering into the corner again. When Dorran entered the chamber, he offered a half-bow, closing the door behind him.
“Thank ya for seein’ me, Cha Freydon.”
“It isn’t as if I was given a choice in the matter. Why are you here? I asked that no one come to the temple. Do you want the Caretaker to learn about your visit?”
“Beg pardon. I wouldn’t have contacted ya for nothin’. There’s word of Urdan bringin’ the council to his side. Is it true?”
Freydon retook his seat, shifting uncomfortably. “Mayhaps some council members have tempered their position regarding the Zaxson. The fault lies not only in the failed attempt perpetrated against his family, but even more so with the atta
ck upon Eithrig Raynes. That was foolish even for your leader. Lord Raynes is well regarded in Yarah and Nazil alike. Unlike the attack on the human whore, Eithrig is Nazilian. Many were already angered when Molag moved against the Benoists. Pentanimir and his brother are held in high regard, as were their parents. Those in Nazil may detest the humans, but the name Benoist flows sweetly from their tongues.”
“Sweetly? It’s ‘cause of the honorable Benoists that Nazil’s citadel is infested. If no one does nothin’, the line of our rulers will be sullied wit’ savage blood. Don’t no one want an abomination rulin’ over ‘em. It’s blasphemous and disgustin’.”
Freydon noticed Dorran’s atypical demeanor, and the fact that he’d ignored the mention of Lord Raynes. Something was amiss, and he needed to proceed with caution. Molag’s followers had stopped listening to reason and appeared to show a disrespect that would’ve been inconceivable in the past.
This wasn’t the time for impetuous actions against the Benoists. Much care had to be taken if they were to succeed. Council members had begun to take heed of Urdan’s assessments and proposals. Molag was beyond reason, and compromising everything Freydon and his supporters had planned.
“Where’s Molag?” Freydon asked.
“Don’t ya be worrin’ ‘bout that. When it’s time, ya’ll learn of it.”
“You forget your place, Smith . It’s my concern more than any other. As you slink in the shadows, it’s my voice ringing loudly in the council chambers, and the streets of Yarah alike.”
If the statement bothered Dorran, he didn’t make it known. He straightened his posture, never breaking his stare. “Molag will tell ya when he’s wantin’ to.” He smirked. “For now, it ain’t yer worry. He told me what to tell ya.” Dorran paused, patting the hilt of his sword. “And what not to. I wouldn’t be so ready to meet wit’ Lord Bomgaard if I were ya, Cha. He ain’t too pleased ‘wit yer progress, and been thinkin’ ‘bout arrangin’ a replacement.”
Freydon’s eyes widened. “Re—replacement? I’m the—l”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 149