Lords of the Sands: An Epic Dark Fantasy Novel

by Paul Yoder

  All focus, that had been upon Henarus’ commanding voice, now turned to Reza for her answer. Everyone there had been gathered to ensure Nomad’s containment, but they also were there to gather solutions and ensure that Nomad would not rattle himself or his chains apart and escape, reducing all their works thus far, in vain.

  “I—a healing, now?” Reza stuttered, looking to Arie, Metus, and then back to Henarus as she searched for an answer to a very complex demand.

  “He would overtake me, for sure! I’ve tried healing him of this taint, back when it was less prevalent, back when he still remained coherent as the Nomad we all knew. Now, to attempt a healing, it would take much more than just my life essence to take on that amount of corruption. I would be dead even before making a dent upon his ailment.”

  A powerful yank at his chains briefly redirected everyone’s attention to the steel anchors that strained at Nomad’s pull. He had silenced after Cavok’s slug, but that did little to soothe everyone’s concerns over the chained devil.

  “Perhaps you would be overtaken alone, without focus. What if I were to help you to focus your inherent healing abilities?” Henarus probed, his harsh tone a bit softened now, hoping to help with an answer to the problem of Nomad’s salvation.

  “A focus…may help. I, as most of you know, am not the most devout among my people. In fact, when it comes to healing, I rarely attempt it. There’s a balance to it that is dangerous, if not lethal, if you do not correctly account for the flow of aether. There are many factors to remain in control of, and the flow of energy often comes and goes quickly, not giving you time to consider how much to give and when to shut it off. You’re not just syphoning your life energy to theirs; you’re also taking on a portion of their pain and suffering. Energy, at least in theory, cannot just be made up, though it can be traded, my health for your health. It’s—” she stopped, fumbling for words to finish her explanation. “It’s a complicated gift. One I was never good at, and if I am to be honest, one that I always feared using.”

  “We all have fears, Reza. This is nothing to be ashamed of. We are, however, in need of a healer right now. And though Hassome, praised be his name, is a great God, one of peace and clarity, healing is not his holiness’s main offering to his followers. I also have attempted a healing upon our cursed friend here, and I know firsthand how limited I am to removing the blackness from his blood.

  “What I can offer, though, is focus and lucidity while you perform a healing. Hassome shows us the way, lends us understanding of our own potentials and helps us to explore, amplify, and master those blessings for good we each have within us. No other god may grant a better blessing of concentration and flow than Hassome, Reza. I believe in you. More importantly, I believe in our deities. Sareth will be with you, and so will Hassome.”

  Metus placed a reassuring hand on Reza’s shoulder. He had not even had the chance to catch up with her. It had been months since her departure. Much was left to be shared between the two, stories and reports, but now, Reza needed support more than anything.

  Henarus had definitively made the case for a healing from Reza. It seemed their only option at that point if they wanted Nomad pacified. Reza laid her life on the line for healings for Nomad before, though this time, she was worried the risk was much higher. The chance that she would lose herself in Nomad’s endless darkness was, in her perspective, almost an inevitability. She had never had a blessing from a priest of Hassome, and though Henarus’ words were spoken with such conviction that that alone seemed convincing, she still was not comfortable with everyone prodding for her to perform a healing.

  “Even with added guidance, I believe the amount of aether needed to heal Nomad is beyond what I have to give, even if I give my life in a healing, he passed the gates of life long ago. He remains living through unnatural means. He would require more than one person has to offer in order to bring him back from the grave. I don’t know much of my blessing, but I do know this without doubt. I will die if I attempt to heal him on my own, even with perfect focus.”

  A low grunt issued from Nomad as he ripped on his restraints, the bolts holding down the chains attached to his right hand shattering the stone they were fastened to, coming loose as the four guards jumped him, trying to hold him down to stop his attempt at breaking his bonds.

  “It’s only a matter of time before he breaks free. He’s too strong to restrain. He will make his way to his master and cause a great deal of destruction and death in his wake,” Arie said, exhaustion and resignation deep-set in her voice.

  “Cavok somehow resisted him, fought him, day and night. I did what I could, but his raw strength is unmatched. The days were calmer, but the nights. My god, the nights were the worst. He wouldn’t stop fighting us. We had help at first, Yozo—” Arie said, looking to the sullied man in the corner of the room who dropped his head lower to obscure his face at the remark.

  “He would perform a ritual that deadened Nomad’s will. Soon, he ran out of incense essential for the rite, and we were left to deal with him in his raw form. He’s an unstoppable force, at least for the likes of us. A healing is the only option. You cannot deal with him in his current state for long.”

  The jangle of chains persisted as the guards struggled with Nomad, bucking like a wild stallion attempting to be tamed. One had a full-on rear naked choke, his bicep bulging around Nomad’s neck to close off blood and air to his head. A normal man would have succumbed to such an attack within seconds, but Nomad showed no signs of slowing, even as the three other guards wrestled with his arms and torso to try and pin the heaving man.

  Reza felt a pull to the ring she wore, a light constriction around her finger, as if the ring began to be weighed down with a hefty aura.

  She had half forgotten about Leaf’s blessing upon the ring of Isis that she wore. It was shrouded in mystery still, but Leaf had mentioned that it was bestowed with life essence, enough to aid her during her healing rituals that she might be sustained by the life that Leaf and the others imbued the ring with.

  She had given strict warning to only use it wisely, to help bring about the downfall of Telenth. Surely now was one of those times, but…how she might call upon the ring’s powers, she had not yet made an attempt to do so.

  She needed time to prepare, they all did, and Nomad was not going to otherwise give it to them. She knew now was not the best time to attempt to uncover the secrets of her empowered ring, but there were few other options available to them. She needed spirit aether, and Leaf had said that the life sap could provide her with just that. Nomad was the key to the movement she had taken on, and without any other solutions to calm his raging spirit, all that she and the others had fought for, might very well soon begin to unravel.

  Reza was frightened at the thought of placing hands on Nomad once more and tasting of his overwhelming suffering. The last time she had, it had injected despair directly into her soul. She had felt strong before all of this, self-sufficient, but facing all this showed her how very small and ill-equipped she actually was. It was the worst of times for her; but, the thought came to her of Nomad going through that pain every moment of every day—she couldn’t stay her hand if she could relieve a measure of that suffering. Nomad didn’t deserve his fate. With help, she might be able to turn the tides in this insurmountable war of his.

  “I’ll do it. Nomad would have done the same for me—it wouldn’t have even been a question, with or without help.”

  A tension released in the room, even Nomad stopped struggling, panting laboriously with the weight of the guards that were atop him.

  “We’ll clear the room to give you privacy. The last thing you need are distractions,” Metus said, waving everyone but Henarus to follow his lead out of the cell.

  “I can help too,” a small voice interrupted, drawing everyone’s attention to the teenage girl that had, until then, been silent.

  “Elendium has shown me that I’d help this man in visions. I’ve seen that I can
help. Many interests have aligned here. Please let me play my part.”

  Though most looked concerned, knowing the danger of getting too close to Nomad in his frantic state, Metus looked to the woman the teen was with, and after a nod of approval from her, Metus returned the gesture, coming to a silent agreement on her staying to help.

  “I might be able to help as well,” came a voice from the shadows.

  Yozo still had his hair down over his broken features, but he took a step forward, explaining, “Not for the healing, but a chant. It has seemed to calm him in recent weeks, perhaps that will give you all time to get close to perform the healing.”

  “Good, then you four, plus Henarus’ cleric, will stay with Reza—” Metus started to declare, but Yozo cut him short.

  “—I require something in return, however. It should not be an issue if this state is a just and respectable one, one that has some semblance of justice to it.”

  “And what is that?” Metus asked.

  “This man,” he said, pointing to Nomad, “has committed war crimes in his homeland. I have been pursuing him for years now to bring him to justice, only catching up to him now. I demand a nonpartisan court to be held. He has evaded justice for far too long. He is clearly not in a coherent state to respond to his crimes, hence why I did not kill him outright when first catching up to him, but if this healing works, the deaths he is responsible for must be answered for.

  “If you would lend me your court and judges that we might have a hearing that justice may be meted, the voices that cry from the dust may finally be made at ease, and I,” Yozo broke, a gravel in his voice betraying what composure he outwardly shown, “might be able to finally rest from this god-awful task that was placed upon me.”

  Metus considered Yozo for a moment, responding with, “Fairness and justice know no better home than here in Sheaf. These are serious allegations you place upon our beaten friend. I cannot promise you a trial yet, with the state he’s in. We have no idea if he will come around to his mental faculties once more, let alone his reasoning and memory to answer for such claims against his character, but if Nomad is indeed a war criminal in your country, then this would change things.

  “I can offer to you that we will hear your full story out, and if I and my councilors deem it, and Nomad is healed back to some state of reasoning, then, due to the impractical nature of you extraditing him back to your homeland so far away, we may have a trial here.

  “With or without your help here and now, I would still be bound to at least look into these allegations as Nomad has been under my care and service in the past, and those in service to me are usually vigorously vetted. He has been a rare exception to that due to Reza’s vouching for him, though now I see, I should have still done my due diligence with looking into his past.”

  Yozo bowed low, Metus’ promise clearly affecting him.

  “Guards, Arie, Leith, Ja-net, let’s give them the room,” Metus ordered, the group heading out, Garik closing the door behind them.

  20

  The Purge

  There was a moment where all the group could hear was the hum of the industry, far back through the tunnels, the pounding and rumble of the foundry barely discernible.

  That moment ended as Yozo began chanting in a deep, gravelly voice in Nomad and his own tongue. Nomad, recovered slightly after his short rest, yanked suddenly so hard on his chains that the block of steel anchor it was connected to uprooted and went flying in front of him, almost hitting Reza, everyone stepping back away from him as he began thrashing the impromptu chained mace about, threatening any who came within his circle of reach.

  Yozo’s chanting droned deeper, louder, and Nomad turned, shooting a murderous glare at his countryman.

  Nomad shook his head, not sure whether to try to cup his ear to lessen the chant, or attempt to launch an attack with the chain and anchor.

  Yozo stepped forward, coming closer, Nomad immediately whipping the anchor around, launching it towards Yozo with deadly speed.

  Yozo ducked under the taut chain, stepping even closer with the dodge, his hair now flowing away from his face, showing the gruesome totality of how mangled it was.

  Reza could now see, as she had guessed as much, that it was indeed the man that had gashed Nomad so horribly at the base of the Jeenyre mountains. She was not capable of much sympathy for him, but the sight of his mangled face struck her, as she had seen him before being disfigured so badly, some of the wounds still seeming freshly bruised and inflamed.

  She would have to wait for a later time to ask Arie or Cavok about how he came to be disfigured, and how he came to become a travel companion of theirs.

  The deft man slid under another attack before stepping into reach, opening with a slam to Nomad’s temple. Perhaps he could have reacted fast enough had he not been weighed down with more than his own weight in steel, or if he had more than one free arm to resist, but he had neither, and the blow, cleanly delivered, stunned Nomad for a moment, giving Yozo a sliver of a second to jab downward into the divot just above Nomad’s collarbone, instantly producing a pain-induced roar from Nomad.

  The others watched in astonishment as Yozo set his feet wide apart, basing himself for an assault Nomad was not in the right mind to see coming.

  Grabbing Nomad’s free arm, he slugged him just below the chest, continuing with a volley of blows to the lower abdomen, ending with a sharp thrust of his elbows inside Nomad’s thighs. Nomad was stunned, swaying slightly as Yozo slipped under the still secured chains, getting Nomad’s back. Now that he had latched on with one arm over Nomad’s free shoulder, and one under his chained arm, he renewed his droning chant directly in Nomad’s ear.

  There was a rally of resistance from Nomad, but to the bystanders, it was clear the assault had taken a toll on his fighting spirit.

  A minute went by, the chanting continued, and Yozo rode out the worst of Nomad’s resistance, now only offering weak attempts of escape, his eyes beginning to lose focus, drifting into a hypnotic state.

  Yozo looked back to Reza and the rest, nodding through his mantra, telling them that they were clear to begin their rituals.

  Reza began calling to her innate healing abilities, reaching for the source of her saren powers, feeling something different there than usual. The ring pulsed, and as she drew into herself, she could feel another’s presence—a life energy that was freely lending itself to her. It was a warm, green glow that flowed through the ring, weaving up her arms, deep in her vascular network and into her chest, filling her with vigor. An added brightness entered her body.

  As if on cue, Henarus, his cleric, and the young girl began whispering their prayer, their canticle interweaving with Yozo’s, each petitioning their respective sources for aid.

  Henarus’ hands began to glow a fuzzy light blue, holding one aloft, pointing to the heavens, and hovering one over Reza, his fellow clergyman doing the same. Light was drifting down upon her, and it felt as though an eye of understanding that had been there all along without her knowing it, began to sleepily open, awakening a state of flow so pure, all fear of failure began to melt away into nonexistence.

  Though the young girl’s voice was tender and much lighter than Henarus and the others, her purity shown through in a crescendo of a chorus-like note, more voices present than there physically should have been, a warm, golden white light entering the room lighting up the dark corners in a flood of peacefulness and a feeling of rightness that Reza had not felt since her days spent in supplication with Bede. A light so pure, that no evil might withstand the assault of that presence for long.

  To Reza, it was as though she was caught up in a whirlwind of positivity and endless pure love. Feeling each spiritual note of all united deities with perfect clarity was almost too much for her to withstand.

  For Nomad, it seemed like the full weight of hell had been brought to bear on his twisted body. He contorted under Yozo’s grasp, this way and that, still in a drugged state, bu
t writhing in searing pain nonetheless. He seemed shackled and racked by the chains of hell, and she had not even laid hands upon him yet.

  Reaching forth her hand, no hesitation to allow her to waver, she soothingly held the crown of his head, getting a jolt of pain from him instantaneously, but the flood of green and white energy soothed the mental throb directly after, blunting the onslaught of darkness as Nomad shook, his eyes rolled deep up in his skull, stretching his jaw beyond what his frame would allow as he let out a howl from beyond.

  There was so much to sort through, so much to take in. Normally, it was so overwhelming, she felt as though she had no control over the process, taking in pain and torment and offering uncontrollable amounts of herself all at once, with no filter. Now, however, she felt as though the process had been slowed down, or that she had been sped up, giving her the chance to sort through what to focus on and in what order.

  He had so many injuries, some that should be fatal, but the same black tar that held him to the befouled call of Telenth, also held him together beyond his own mortal limits. To remove the tar, she would also have to heal his fatal injuries as well, or he would be healed only to die of natural causes.

  The ring injected another surge of energy into her, prompting her to move forward with syphoning out some of the webworks of Telenth, banishing the darkness from his polluted mind, opening his eyes, clearing the red haze that had settled in there for the past month.

  A gasp of air and a gush of blood immediately ejected from Nomad’s dislocated mouth, a heaping volume of black and red liquid spewing all over the floor in front of him.

  The black webs seemed endless, and Reza knew she would not be able to clear them all. She did not linger on that thought, acknowledging the truth of it, moving on to grasp as much mental trauma as she could. She drew as much in as she could with the buffer of the familiar light of Elendium and the shared life force of the living sap.