“Somewhat. We’re finally gaining momentum, and it would be counterproductive to incense the very people we need to help us, regardless of their predispositions. I do understand Lord Thaon’s request, but it cannot be fulfilled. At least, not the way he’s requested.”
With that, Hosdaq took his seat. “How then may his request be satisfied?”
“Uzon Osei has agreed to allow twenty Jasiri to assist. They won’t enter Yarah, but they’ll take up positions around it. There are none in all the lands better at concealing themselves than the K’ohshulians.”
“Will the Zaxson and Caretaker allow it?”
“As of yet, there’s no word from the Caretaker, but that means little. Pentanimir has offered his opinion, yet left the decision to the Uzon. The Jasiri have already taken leave and Shintao and his brothers will join with them.”
“Shintao?”
“Yes. Eight of them left with the brothers Xaahn. Once they join with the Jasiri, Molag will stand little chance.”
Hosdaq lifted his cup. “Fine news, indeed. Is Aronin aware?”
“Not as yet. When I send word to Nazil, I’ll do the same for Yarah. The Jasiri’s presence won’t be seen, but it will certainly be felt.”
“With that, there’s no doubt, my old friend. How is Jishnu healing?”
“He’s well, but the shoulder will ache for some time. It’s Temian’s healing that will be long in coming. He never wanted anyone to place their lives in danger due to him. Now, he understands more the burdens of his brother.”
“Indeed. When the word reached Spero, I didn’t know what to think. I’m certain Pentanimir didn’t fathom such an outcome.”
“No, but due to those circumstances he’s had to face some essential realities. I believe that’s why he’s granting greater freedoms to the Jasiri in capturing Molag. He must be apprehended soon.”
“It will be so,” Hosdaq agreed. “Now, after your messages are sent, shall we find a sparring chamber? It’s been long, and I have a need to feel the steel in my hands.”
“This, too, will be so.”
Heartache and Humanity
Pentanimir thrashed in his bed, not fully awake, but not wholly asleep, either. It wasn’t merely the absence of his wife. It was the torment of his mind: the images—the emotion—the pain. He felt the dolor encompassing him, just as effectually as the Nazilians he’d seen suffering in the darkness.
“No,” he cried out, batting at the illusory pale appendages. They encircled him, relentlessly grasping and clawing.
“Help me,” Pentanimir begged in desperation, unable to free himself from the decedent throng.
Pentanimir’s sweat-soaked face scrunched with the painful memory. With being there, suspended over the multitude of Nazilians, losing himself in their suffering and antipathy.
He could see the AsZar’s image, fading in and out of perception as her words reverberated through his mind. This was his burden for the knowledge he sought. Forever would he bear the weight of it.
Pentanimir emerged in desolation, seeing endless faces of those who inhabited the unsettling space. All of them, all looked like him, as those of Nazil.
Incoherent words were spoken all at once: some pleading, others demanding, while others cursed the darkness.
Their eyes were nearly clear, virtually glowing, adjusting to the endless night. Their flesh had paled, as had their hair, which Pentanimir now understood, through the Guardians, was caused by the same lack of light, the lack of sun. Only darkness remained.
He watched as they struggled walking…no…lumbering through the muck and mire that surrounded them. The soft and unforgiving ground would surely consume them if their movement ceased too long.
Pentanimir called out again, fighting to awaken from the dream…the nightmare…the truth of his people’s heritage.
He wasn’t there, not feeling what the limitless men and women felt, and yet, he was. He experienced the emptiness, and the suffering, hearing the pleas and prayers being offered to gods of their own creation.
On and on it went. Constant movement, clamor, and darkness: an unending melancholia and malevolence never changing.
A tear rolled down his cheek, but he could do nothing to remove it. He was as an effigy, an immobilized version of himself, a mere observer hovering far above those in the darkness, the unending pits where the damned dwelled. Pentanimir wasn’t certain of his last thought, but it seemed only logical to him now. This was the space beyond.
Now, he understood, or at least he thought that he did…allowing the Guardians’ merge to provide that which he didn’t comprehend. It was a glimpse into a world beyond all others.
He drifted, looking over the sea of Nazilians, reaching out to the figure that they now noticed above them. Had he his sword, Pentanimir would have batted the pale appendages away, but there was nothing, literally nothing, only darkness.
Panic took hold as he felt himself descending into the space where only the damned could reside. He peered left, and then right, searching for any possible escape, anything that would end the interminable ache that he felt, and the torment that accompanied it, descending ever closer to the hands of those thirsting to trawl him down into the ordure that they couldn’t escape.
Vaulting up in the bed, Pentanimir swatted at his arms and legs, still feeling the lingering vestiges of the Doh’mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon.
“Nazilians,” he murmured, staring down at his bare arms as his vision began to clear.
The eyes, they lighten to see within the darkness. And—and the lack of sun, being forced to live beneath the reach of light paled their flesh. All of it, all of it was a lie. We weren’t chosen to lead because our features mirrored that of our gods. Our features are a dreadful concomitant, an unrelenting reminder of our sacrilege and disobedience!
We are human.
Pentanimir’s eyes widened, peering around his room until Tardison’s movements wrenched him from his recollections.
“We are human,” Pentanimir said, still struggling with that truth. “There’s no difference in any one of us. All of the hatred, the fear, the deaths, they were a result of lies propagated to divide the populace, whilst empowering our true enemy.”
Tossing the covers aside, Pentanimir labored to his son’s beds. They knew nothing of what had been, what their forebears had caused, but they would be the ones called upon to correct it.
When Ayrmeis shifted in his bed, Pentanimir stepped closer, marveling at the both of them. They should’ve been babes, and Pentanimir lamented their needed acceleration and the loss that he felt.
“I promise to keep you safe,” he said with tears lining his eyes. “If it takes my life, I promise to protect yours.”
His words were true, but Pentanimir understood the reality they were all facing. His sons would keep the whole of Faélondul safe. Pentanimir would guide them until they were prepared, but a process that should’ve spanned years would now be mere seasons.
“My sons,” he said, drifting to his knees, overcome by his emotion.
Before his people, Pentanimir needed to exude placidity, both unflappable and resolute. But here, here in his chambers, such pretenses were cast aside. He wasn’t merely the Zaxson of Faélondul or a paladin of the Guardians. He was Pentanimir Benoist: brother, husband, uncle, and father…a father that grieved for the future of his family.
Lowering his head, Pentanimir wept, consumed by an inescapable feeling of helplessness.
“My sons.”
New Life
Shintao paused, looking out over the city. He watched the flutter of activity as the people moved about with their carts and supplies. They were not the only ones building homes and beginning a new life.
In much of Faélondul, humans and Nazilians were still separated. Not here, not in Spero. Here, it was different, and Shintao felt comforted by that. He hadn’t wanted to remain in Faélondul, but after speaking with Mother Iya, he knew it was imperative that he did.
As he turned, he noticed one of
his brothers, Genta, reinforcing a wall on his home. For a moment, Shintao didn’t move. He merely watched his brother toiling long after the others had left.
Shintao knew why he did so. Of all his brothers, Genta missed their home, their true home the most. The more his mind was occupied, the easier the adjustment to this new life would be.
That was how Genta reasoned, at least.
“Are you nearly finished?” Shintao asked, approaching.
Genta turned, respectfully inclining his head. His expression betrayed his thoughts, but words weren’t necessary. Shintao had the ability to sense the thoughts of his brothers. It wasn’t a complete extrasensory connection, but more an empathic impression imprinted in Shintao’s mind and heart.
For centuries, they’d inhabited the lands, yet remained concealed from most of the Faélondulians. At times, they revealed who they were, but only at the AsZar’s behest. Besides those of Afferea, only the K’ohshulians and Naidisians were aware of their presence, and their nature.
That would soon change. It was time for them to emerge from the shadows, and heed the AsZar’s call. After centuries of concealment, they would openly become a part of Faélondul’s population, until the darkness was defeated. This darkness…or the darkness yet to manifest.
“We are, Brahtah,” Genta said, finally. “Eizō and Lazarte await only you.”
“I’m pleased to know so. The seasons will soon change, and we need to be ready. There are Jasiri near Yarah, and I’ll need to rejoin them and the brothers Xaahn again soon. The High Priest will ‘ave need of me.”
“What ‘ove Zol?” Genta asked, searching their surroundings. The joined pair usually remained together, and Genta hadn’t ever seen Shintao without Zol at his side.
“Zol will return soon,” Shintao said, resting his hand over the gem on his chest. When the Guardian mark pulsed, he closed his eyes, establishing the connection. “Zol is near the effigy with the othahs. They have sensed the coming of the Ohor.”
Genta nodded, as Shintao removed his hand, severing the connection with Zol.
Shintao could sense Genta’s dolor, understanding his lamentations. Many of his brothers wanted to return to Syahndru, but with Mah’saahc’s emergence, they were needed in Faélondul. If the darkness wasn’t defeated, Mah’saahc’s essence would suffuse the light world, infecting the lands and their people.
“Continue your work, Genta. I’ll go and join with Yasu. Together we’ll return to the Animus Wood.”
“Yes, Brahtah.” Genta bowed.
“The bringer ‘ove this darkness roams free, and we must prepare. The shift continues, so we must continue.”
“Yes,” Genta agreed. “But, Brahtah?” Genta said. When Shintao regarded him, he lowered his head, taking a step back.
“What has your mind?” Shintao said. “Don’t keep that which troubles you inside.”
“‘Tis…’tis…I should not question. This is ‘ouwer place.”
Shintao stepped closer, placing his palm over the jewel on Genta’s chest.
“Don’t feel shame for what lies in your heart,” Shintao said. “It was my desire to return as well, but it cannot be so. Faélondul remains ‘ouwer home. We’ll visit Syahndru, and your mate will come, Genta. For now, the Guardians ‘ave need ‘ove us, all ‘ove us. This has always been the way.”
Genta offered a nod of understanding. “Until ‘ouwer time is no more, Brahtah.”
“Yes.” Shintao smiled. “Until ‘ouwer time is no more.”
Dubiety
“What has your mind?” Danimore asked, taking a seat beside her. Zeta had stayed much to herself of late, and he worried at the reason. Danimore certainly understood her trepidation regarding Raithym. He felt the same, but needed to appear otherwise to help ease her mind and heart.
Zeta glanced over at Raithym, leaning into Danimore’s arms. Her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of them tightening around her. How she needed his closeness and love when everything else in her life felt in turmoil.
“I’m afraid for him, Dani.” Her voice quivered. “I’m afraid for all of them. I don’t ever want Raithym away from me. What’s going to become of our son?”
Danimore sighed. He’d spoken with Pentanimir regarding the same not long ago. None of them truly knew that answer, and that uncertainty was more painful than the physical manifestations of the wraith.
It wasn’t long past when Danimore had feared he’d lose Zeta. After Nikolina’s violation and Ihnat’s birth, he was certain their love would not endure. It took time, but Zeta returned to him. Now, this. He didn’t have an answer to her question: not for Zeta or for himself. Danimore had to have faith in the Guardians to protect their son.
“There’s much that lies ahead,” he said, drawing her in closer. “But know that they’ll be prepared for it. All of us will be prepared. Brahanu shares your fear, and the relationship with her children is suffering due to it. We can’t allow the same to befall Raithym. He’s our son, Zeta. No matter what’s to come, he’s our son.”
“Are you certain, Dani? Is Raithym truly a—a Vereux?” she asked, praying for a different truth.
“It is, but this means little. Just like Ihnat, Raithym is our son: yours and mine. The Vereux’ evils don’t touch him. Draizeyn being his sire doesn’t affect who or what Raithym is or will be.”
“How does it not? Isn’t this why the wraith infected him? She preyed on our son due to his father.”
Danimore nestled her into his arms, feeling overcome by her grief, and the guilt he felt at causing it. “I am his father. This is the only truth that Raithym will ever know. I’ve been foolish regarding many things, Zeta, but never with this,” he said, kissing her. “Taking you into my home, protecting you, falling in love with you, and claiming Raithym as my own, some good I have done. It outweighs the other, all of it,” he said, wiping away her tears. “Forgive what I’ve caused…what I’ve allowed. I wanted you to be free and bring joy to your life. Have I failed?”
She stared at him, for a moment unable to respond. Zeta buried her head in his chest, overcome by her own recent betrayals. No, he hadn’t failed. She had failed him.
Zeta thought about Noraa, and her ruminations regarding her old love, Radich. How she could ever fathom a life without Danimore was both disconcerting and disappointing. Seeing Radich had manifested feelings she thought long forgotten, but that love, those lingering sentiments were infinitesimal in comparison with those she felt toward her husband.
Danimore had spoken true, reminding her of integral elements of her past that she attempted to purge from her memory. Albeit, she couldn’t completely erase the past. Zeta didn’t wish to dwell on what had been, but she needed to at least acknowledge what could’ve happened to Raithym and to her without Danimore’s protection. It was because of him that she was given this chance at happiness, and his love, and the love of their children, filled her completely.
“No, Dani, you couldn’t have known. The fault doesn’t lie with you. What was said years past didn’t justify what happened to you...to us. I am afraid for our sons, but I love them, and I love you.”
“As do I,” he said, kissing her again.
Manifestation
“We’re close,” Pentanimir said before everyone was seated.
“Close?” Temian asked.
“Yes, Hosdaq sent a message from Spero. Molag has surfaced again.”
“Did he say where?” Danimore asked.
“No, only that he’s been seen. The offer of reward hastens his steps. Already more than a dozen have come forth.”
“But no one has given hint to his actual location?”
“They have, Dani, but Molag rarely remains in one place. There’s evidence of him, yet he continues to elude the guard. But our garrote grows tighter about his neck.” Pentanimir became more excited with every word. “The last location checked was the most significant. They missed him by but moments. He fled in such haste that his meal still warmed over the fire.”
“We’re
pleased at the news,” Symeon said. “The Jasiri are keeping a close watch on the borders of Nazil and the woods beyond. With the new towers in place, travel beneath the city will be virtually impossible. If Molag turns toward Nazil, we’ll know.
“I’m glad that the Zaontras has returned safely from her visit. Having Molag and his ilk stirring could prove dangerous for anyone who’s traveling.”
“It’s a blessing,” Pentanimir said. “Had Brahanu delayed her return, it mightn’t have been so.”
“Are you still planning to visit the falls, Brother?” Danimore asked. “With Molag’s capture so near, would it not be prudent to remain in Nazil?”
“Allay your fears, Dani. The visit to the falls will be but two suns. I appreciate and understand your concern, but the trip is needed, and I won’t delay it. With Brahanu home in Nazil, this is long overdue. The necessary precautions have been taken, and no one will know that I’ve left the city. Quite the opposite,” he said, glancing over at his brother.
“Indeed,” Temian said, forcing a smile. He didn’t want Pentanimir to know about his apprehension. After the attack in the wood, he no longer wanted to pose as the Zaxson. At the same time, he understood the need for such a ruse. When properly outfitted, not even Pentanimir’s personal Guard could tell the men apart.
Pentanimir and Brahanu needed this respite. The falls was where their love had grown, and Pentanimir hoped it would rekindle that love and have Brahanu herself again.
The Zaxson didn’t know about the turmoil inside of him, and Temian wouldn’t tell of it. Instead, he nodded.
Pentanimir smiled, raising his cup. As the men joined him in the toast, Thalassa entered the crowded solar.
“Forgive my tardiness, Zaxson, council.” She curtsied. “Sir Middleton informed me about the meeting only moments ago.”
“No. Forgive me, for beginning without you,” Pentanimir apologized, pulling out the chair.
As she took her seat, Ahvixx’s head snapped up, his eyes glimmering. Pushing the parchments aside, he stared at her peculiarly.
“Ahvixx, what’s wrong?” Temian asked. “Has something happened?”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 153