The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “That wasn’t Molag. Not as I knew him. That was something much worse, something with a darker purpose.”

  “This much is certain. If the brothers Xaahn hadn’t asked the guards to bring you to the temple, Molag would’ve succeeded, just as he did when he killed the Cha Asham. Much as it was with Allister and Nikolina, the Nazilian healers and apothecaries could do nothing to help you.”

  Nigel scoffed, but he felt there might be truth in Nzuri’s statement. When Molag had attacked him, he’d felt some darkness, some maleficence within him. Nigel had never feared any man, until now.

  “Are you saying that the only reason I’m alive is due to these Guardians?” he offered condescendingly, though his voice trembled through the words.

  Nzuri turned, advancing on him. “Desh t’reyUhm e’ronno k’leoneid amelyko sost dar’rassad r’aymed tr’eon. Mosh tak Nazil,” [106] he spoke evenly, taking the cup and moving across the room.

  Nigel sat up in the bed, confused. “Am I supposed to understand that?”

  “No. The Cha didn’t teach or even mention the divine Mehlonii language. This, they kept to themselves. However, the scrolls and codices you were sent to retrieve were written in the same.”

  Nigel’s eyes darted back and forth, remembering the Cha’s order. He’d sent Nigel to Allister in hopes of retrieving the documents. Although his benefactor never revealed their content, he continually expressed their importance and value.

  “What’s Mehlonii?”

  “Mehlonii is the arcane language. It is divine, just like the Guardians: the only true gods.”

  “True gods?” Nigel scoffed again. “What did you say in this divine language?”

  “I merely said, ‘their divine love cleansed you and defeated the darkness, Guard of Nazil.’”

  “Divine? I serve the Four, priest, not some…some beings who’d unleash giants and demon beasts to murder and destroy.”

  “Demon beasts? You’d refer to the Protectors and the Desu Beasts in such an insolent manner?”

  “What manner should I speak of them? One look at the creatures and you know the truth of what they are.”

  Nzuri nodded. “I see. Just like you looked at me and recognized that I was a high lord and an heir to the wealthiest family in Noraa.”

  At that, Nigel opened his mouth to speak, but then shook his head instead.

  “Too long have many Nazilians allowed what you see to determine value or substance. Must a person or object hold great beauty to be considered good?” he asked. “For centuries, Nazilians have done that very thing. You equate your perception of beauty to rectitude or morality. There’s no parity to be found in such an assumption.

  “Indeed, the beasts are divine, just as those who command them. They possess more beauty than can be found in all Nazil. The Protectors are of the Guardians, Nigel, and have puissance you’d never be able to comprehend. Not since the battle for Nazil have they harmed anyone, yet they visit the city often. In fact, if not for the very beasts you’ve labeled ‘demons,’ could your life have been saved.”

  Nigel’s head snapped up, regarding him curiously. “What’s that to mean?”

  “I speak only truth,” he said, holding up the cup. “It was the nectar secreted by the beasts that healed the wounds Molag inflicted upon you.”

  “Nectar?”

  “Didn’t you see me warm it over the flames with your herbs? You’ve partaken in the Desu Beasts’ nectar since coming to me. It contains healing properties that can be found nowhere else. The Guardians and Desu Beasts saved your life, Nigel. Herbs and tonics couldn’t defeat the darkness that embodied Molag. Only with the nectar could you be healed.

  “Think of that when next you bow down and worship your Four. The priest who sent you to that cursed isle is one of the many who’ve nourished the evil residing there. Now, that same evil has been unleashed upon the entirety of Faélondul. Molag is here, and with him, so is this darkness.”

  Nigel’s vacuous expression was antithetical to the innumerable thoughts cascading through his mind. Statements from his benefactor repeated as the execrable events on Sanctium caused him to shiver. Something had changed. Something had gone horribly wrong. The Cha spoke often about the mage’s divinity, but his experience was contrariwise.

  Nigel gazed down at his wrist.

  He’d never again wield a sword as he had, or continue serving as a Chosen guard. That atrocity hadn’t been committed by anyone residing in the citadel. The Cha and Molag Bomgaard had caused this to be.

  Nigel caressed his disfigured wrist, feeling a pang in his chest. The Cha had deceived him, but Nigel had to accept his own culpability for this outcome.

  “What am I going to do?” he asked, only speaking to himself.

  “That decision is yours,” Nzuri said, gathering his belongings into a satchel. “I’ve tended your wounds to the best of my ability, and now, the Zaxson is releasing you. If you’re ready, I’ll escort you from the citadel.”

  Nigel’s head snapped up again. He couldn’t speak it, but the thought of leaving the citadel petrified him. Never since he’d learned to wield a sword did he fear any man. Now, he couldn’t defend himself against even a child. That vulnerability, and his fear of Molag, caused Nigel to tremble.

  “Where will you go?” he asked, sounding more like a child than a man.

  “My place is in the temple. I have a chamber here, but the temple is where I spend most of my time until the Zaxson has need of me.”

  “May I come? To—to the temple?”

  “Nigel, you’ve never been prohibited from the temple. Though you’ve spoken the opposite to many, the temple is a place for everyone to worship.”

  “No. Not to worship.” He looked up with tears lining his eyes. “Can—can I stay there? In—in a chamber.”

  Nzuri halted, studying his fear-covered face. “Nigel, you’re being released to your home. The Zaxson isn’t going to prosecute you for your past misdeeds. He understands how you and others were manipulated. Moreover, he appreciates the assistance you’ve provided,” he said, resting a hand on Nigel’s shoulder.

  “Do you not understand the magnitude of what’s happening around you? Pentanimir and his family must defeat this evil, an evil you helped unleash upon Faélondul. Not only must Pentanimir fight to protect his family from treacherous attacks, but he also fights to protect Faélondul’s denizens.”

  “I didn’t know, Lord Karidian.”

  Nzuri stepped back when he addressed him formally. It was the first time anyone had called him by a title other than priest.

  “No. You couldn’t have known,” he managed with a slight stammer. “Mayhaps you should remain here a while longer. I’ll inform the Zaxson and make the proper arrangements. Rest now, and I’ll see it done.”

  Ceron

  Raithym closed the door to his room, removing his belt and boots. He arched his back, feeling the ache of his recent practice. Temian was merciless during his training, and Raithym’s fresh bruises testified to that. His uncle had never pushed him so hard. Ayrmeis had mentioned his vigorous training with Symeon, but the First Chosen was a Jasiri. Such ferocious training was expected.

  As he sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his bruised shoulder, a soft knock sounded from the door. Raithym sighed, wanting nothing more than to rest and have a hot bath. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for guests.

  “Come,” Raithym said, standing. When he saw Ceron rolling a cart in the room, his smile was immediate. There were more pleasurable things he could use instead of rest, and when he met Ceron’s eyes, her attraction to him couldn’t be concealed.

  Many times, he’d spoken to his cousins about her. Though she was much older than the three, it didn’t matter. In fact, Raithym figured that with her age came experience, and he was ready and willing to learn.

  Whereas Ayrmeis focused on training, and Tardison on his communing and study, Raithym enjoyed the beautiful sights around him. Of them, Ceron was first upon his long list.

  “A
llow me to assist,” he said, pushing the cart to the tub.

  “Hushar said yer needin’ a hot bath and oil rub. She would’a come, but she’s tendin’ to the children.”

  “I see. Well, she’s quite correct. My uncle truly tested my endurance. I fear he’s bested me again.” He grinned, taking a step forward. “Do you have any sweets for me, Ceron?”

  “Mi—milord?”

  “The cookies with the raisins and dates,” he said, gazing at her lasciviously from toe to head. “Have you anything sweet for me? I do crave your sweets, Ceron. Always.”

  “Rai-Rai—”

  “No longer,” he said, removing his tunic. “I haven’t been that little boy for a long time. My name’s Raithym, and I’m a man grown.”

  Ceron couldn’t avert her eyes, no matter how much she tried to. She was one of the few who knew about the three boys age progression, but in that moment, the truth of those changes began fading from her mind. She couldn’t believe that the child she’d helped to raise was now the attractive young man before her. Her heartbeat quickened as she struggled to regain herself. This was Zeta’s son, and regardless of his appearance, he was a child, a child that she loved.

  “Would you like for me to remove all of my clothing?” Raithym smiled, noticing her stare.

  “If—if you’re wantin’ me to tend you proper.”

  “Oh…I do,” he said quickly, removing his trews and underclothing, and then turned back around to face her. “So, how do you want me?”

  “Wh—what?” she stammered, trying to break the mesmerizing hold.

  Raithym chuckled. “Where would you like me to lay? Is the bed more comfortable, or is the divan more to your liking?” he asked, flexing the muscles in his chest.

  She licked the sudden dryness from her lips, swallowing hard. Ceron had seen many naked men during her service to the citadel, perhaps too many. However, there had only been one other who caught her notice like Raithym did. Of all the men who’d received pleasure from her, to Raithym, she’d submit willingly.

  “The—the bed, milord.”

  He moved to the bed, stretching before laying on his back. As Ceron approached, he watched the movement of her eyes, noticing the desire burning within them. He smiled when she lingered on his groin, biting at her lips.

  When she drizzled the warm oil over his body, he sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Is it too hot?”

  “No. The heat feels good.”

  She nodded, sliding her hands over his chest and arms. As she glided down his abdomen, Raithym’s arousal was evident.

  “I—I can come back in a bit, milord, if’n ya want?”

  He grinned, admiring his erection. “My name’s Raithym, Ceron, and no. You can’t leave now, the muscles in my thighs burn. I think you should begin massaging there, and then slowly work your way up. I love the feel of your hands.”

  Ceron desperately tried to calm her thoughts. Drizzling more oil in her hand, she did as he instructed. Each time her hands glided near his groin, Raithym’s body responded, drawing her attention exactly where he wanted it. The more she massaged, the more her body ached to be one with his.

  “Will you be tending me each day?”

  “If’n you’re wantin’ me to.”

  He sat up then, clutching her wrist. “What do you want, Ceron? Would you like to see me this way, to feel my body respond to your touch, and to bathe me? Tell me what you want.”

  Ceron examined every inch of him, weakening more each moment. When she met his eyes again, her face flushed. The child was gone, and only the man remained.

  “I—I would,” she said, continuing her massage.

  When she reached for more oil, Raithym’s hand disappeared beneath her dress. She gasped, enjoying the feel of his fingers caressing between her thighs. Her eyes closed as his fingers continued to work, probing and stimulating her all at once. Every pass left an intoxicating tingle in its wake, causing her to shudder. Raithym could feel her excitement, growing more aroused himself. It was the first he’d ever touched a woman so, and he loved the feeling.

  When her stance began to falter, he increased his efforts, until her satisfaction was evident.

  “You brought me sweets after all,” he said, bringing his fingers to his mouth. “What else do you have for me?”

  Raithym smirked as she lowered him to the bed, taking position over him. Easily she joined her eager body with his. He released a deep moan, relishing her heat and the tantalizing sensation.

  “Oh, so sweet, indeed,” he moaned, shuddering with his quick release. Ceron’s motion continued until her body tensed with an explosion of pleasure.

  “Oh, yes. Each day.” Raithym grinned, massaging her chest. “Mayhaps you could taste of me. Would you like that as well?”

  Before Ceron could respond, the door swung open. She gasped, quickly sliding off the bed and lowering her dress.

  Surma stared at the two, walking into the room.

  “Pardons, milord.” He glared at Ceron. “I’ve brought the water for your bath. Hushar believed that Ceron was seeing to your massage.”

  Raithym crossed his ankles, rising on his elbows. “Yes. Yes, Ceron did that and more,” he said, looking over at her. “And we’re not quite finished. Some muscles need more attention than others. Thank you for the water. You may leave now. I won’t be needing any assistance until the evening. And please, next time, knock before entering.” He smiled. “Ceron isn’t as insouciant as I am.”

  Surma glimpsed the unmistakable wetness covering him, masking his revulsion. “Forgive me, milord. It won’t happen again. However, the Shijahn has requested Ceron’s assistance in her solar. I was told to see to your bath while Ceron speaks with your mother.”

  Ceron glanced at Raithym, feeling suddenly ashamed. “Yes, Surma,” she said, leaving his room. She fidgeted with her hair and clothes, unable to stop her hands from trembling.

  Ceron cursed herself, forcing back the tears threatening to fall. Only Surma was aware of her indiscretion, but it wouldn’t remain that way. He had a disdain for her that was incomprehensible. This wasn’t new. Surma had mistreated her often since her arrival in Nazil.

  Surma held the same disdain for Zeta, but he wasn’t ignorant. Had Zeta wanted to, he could’ve been thrown in the cells for his past treatment of Nazil’s new Shijahn. But Zeta offered him the mercy he refused to show others. Especially Ceron.

  Surma had wed Leanta, and retained his position, but his former tendencies and prejudices remained. He was free for the first time in his life, albeit, if he truly understood the magnitude of his liberation, he exhibited no evidence of it.

  The ictus of Ceron’s heart thrummed in her ears as she approached Zeta’s solar. Her actions could be interpreted as a violation, and one in which she was guilty. How could she face Zeta now? She’d just made love to her son…a man that she’d cared for since he was an infant. Ceron still loved the child that he was, and couldn’t reconcile her heart with her mind.

  “Rai-Rai,” she said, wiping away her tears. “How?”

  She shook her head. Raithym should be merely a boy of four, yet he was a man grown. A man whose charms she couldn’t seem to resist.

  Checking her appearance again, Ceron inhaled a steadying breath, knocking on Zeta’s door. When she heard her respond, Ceron straightened her stance, slowly exhaling.

  “Mi…milady, Shijahn,” Ceron stammered, walking in and offering her best curtsy.

  Zeta smiled, motioning her inside. After laying Ihnat in his crib, she took a seat on the divan.

  “Please sit, Ceron, and call me Zeta. We need no titles, you and I. No matter my position now, I once served the citadel in a position lower than your own.”

  “Yes—yes, Z—Zeta. Surma said ya wanted me.”

  “I do. Mayhaps I’ve waited too long.”

  Ceron’s brow creased. “Too long? Everythin’ all right?”

  “You’re one of the few who knows that nothing has been all right for some time. This is par
t of the reason I’ve asked you to come.”

  “What would ya have of me?”

  “Raithym,” Zeta said, observing the fluctuating expressions on Ceron’s face.

  “Rai-Raithym?”

  “Yes, Ceron, my elder son. Hushar asked for you to tend him in her stead this afternoon.”

  “Yes’m. I—I did his massage, and Surma’s tendin’ to his bath.”

  “Truly?” Zeta’s brow raised. “Ceron, I don’t consider you or any of the former citadel attendants beneath me. I was pleased when you elected to stay here with us. Of everyone who decided to remain, I consider you a true friend. I’ve never forgotten the kindnesses you showed toward me.”

  She nodded, unable to meet Zeta’s eyes.

  “Ceron, there’re things that I can’t discuss, but it’s obvious that this is an uncertain and dangerous time for our family. Much lies ahead for all of us, including Raithym. He needs time to acclimate to the changes taking place with his cousins and him. Raithym needs no distractions.”

  “Distractions?”

  “I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other, and heard that you’re attracted to my son. Is there any truth to this?”

  “Milady?”

  “The question is plain, Ceron.”

  “Uhm…well…I…I think he’s handsome, yes.”

  “It appears that he finds you the same. There are others he fancies, but you occupy his thoughts most. Because of this, I thought it best to speak with you first.”

  “What would ya have of me?” she asked again.

  “I’m asking that you avoid being with my son.”

  “What? How?”

  “In all manners, Ceron. I’m asking you to respect Danimore’s wishes, and mine, regarding Raithym. He’s experienced far too much in his four years,” she said, lowering her gaze while caressing her rounding womb. At that moment, the realization of his transformation was more than painful. Four years had passed, yet her son stood nine and ten.

  “He stands a man grown to you,” Zeta continued. “But that’s not who he truly is. Raithym is a child, and he doesn’t understand the urges within him. There hasn’t been sufficient time for him to cope with such rapid changes. I’m asking you to not interfere or interact with him until these dangers have passed.”