The Rise of Nazil

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “Zeta? She’s been soiled hundreds of times and carries an abomination. The dark slave she pleases has violated every hole, making them unfit for a man of a normal size,” Draizeyn said, his face scrunching in disgust. “Besides, your home might be smaller than the citadel, but it’s one of the largest in Nazil. Believe when I say that: neither Zeta’s talents nor wits are comparable to Leanta’s.”

  “Nor her tits,” Daracus said.

  Draizeyn grinned his approval, and then continued. “Before that belly, Zeta was at least somewhat pleasant to look at, well, for a savage. Now she’s near sickening, and lacking in both wits and skill. Why do you want her?”

  “Zaxson, my brother and I aren’t concerned about wits or beauty. We only need someone to cook, clean, and wash. If she can manage these things, we’d welcome the placement. In assisting us, you’re allowing us to assist you by removing a thorn in Lady Denotra’s side. Anything that serves your home is our honor, my lord.”

  “Well said, son of Manifir. I’ll have her bathed and delivered to your home before our meal’s end,” Draizeyn said, gesturing to Jahno.

  “Many thanks, my Lord, but such haste isn’t necessary. Hushar is tending Zeta now, and I’d have her well and able to perform her duties. I’ll transport her upon my leave if that pleases you.”

  Draizeyn nodded. “It does.”

  Danimore’s smile was genuine as he inclined his head. Thank the gods. She’ll be safe.

  Bandari

  A crescendo of howls greeted them as they passed beneath a bower of huge red trees. They stood larger than any other that they’d passed, surrounded by creepers and thorny bushes. The small amount of sun that found its way through the forest’s canopy was beginning to fade. Brahanu could scarcely see two meters in front of them when Pentanimir halted.

  “Wait here,” he instructed, sliding from the horse’s side, still favoring his wounded arm.

  “Are you certain that you can manage?”

  “You’ve taken good care of me, and the pain is barely noticeable.” He glanced around, and then looked up, examining the treetops. “We’re nearly there.”

  Brahanu accepted his words, but noticed his demeanor. It wasn’t merely the injuries the attackers inflicted, the depth of his anguish reached beyond that. She understood that pain, because she felt it, too.

  “Have they given this settlement a name?” she asked.

  “They call it Bandari.”

  “How could they—Pentanimir!” she shouted, pointing behind him.

  Whirling around, he instinctively drew his Xtabyren.

  “Do you wish to spar, Pentanimir, or are you planning to strike down an unarmed man?”

  Pentanimir chuckled, sheathing his weapon. After clasping the man’s hand, he stepped back to Brahanu, helping her to dismount.

  “Brahanu, this is Nurul. He’s one of the guards in Bandari, and much more. Allow me to introduce you to Lady Ravenot. I’ll need the Elder’s assistance to see her safely home.”

  “Ravenot? Is your father Hacom Ravenot, the Caretaker of Cazaal?”

  Her brow creased. “He is. Do you know him?”

  “Many years past, my Lady. Come, the Elders have been expecting you.”

  Brahanu didn’t speak as they led the horses forward. She continued to regard the man, wondering how he knew her father and what he was doing here. But when Pentanimir and Nurul pulled two thick ropes, bending back the trees’ branches, all else faded from her mind.

  As Brahanu stepped through to the other side, she paused, glancing behind, and then ahead again. It was as if the gods had cut away part of the wood and nestled this village down within it. It looked like a beautiful oasis at the base of a mountain. The dense wall of trees not only concealed the village, but also appeared to mute the sound.

  Even with the last remnants of sun surrendering to the moon, the village’s beauty was remarkable. To the north stood stables and a trio of wooden buildings, much grander than Brahanu would’ve expected to find in this secluded village. However, the fiery tendrils whipping in the night air drew her attention. There looked to be a pit encircled by large stones and benches where a fire swayed gently in the night breeze. Its red and yellow flares danced gracefully, illuminating the steadings that surrounded it. She wondered how she hadn’t seen it from the wood.

  More than two dozen houses were spaced around the pit nestled between twin lakes, glistening in the moonlight. She turned, hearing the whinnies of horses and could scarcely make out a small field, now bare after the harvesting season.

  Gazing farther north, the snowcapped mountains were a majestic backdrop, partially encasing the village. Smoke rose from one of the wooden buildings, and a wonderful scent wafted through the air. She was in awe, and her curiosity only grew as they continued down the hill, closer to the settlement.

  “Nurul will tend to the horses,” Pentanimir said. “Everyone should be in the hall, readying for the evening meal. It’s the center building just there. Come, it’s time for you to meet them.”

  Brahanu released the reins, accepting Pentanimir’s offered elbow. He led her toward the hall, gesturing as they walked.

  “That’s the edge of the Raphar. Due to the foliage and the bend in the lake, you can’t see to the other side. Over to the west is the Libero. They’ve taken boats to its beginning through the mountains. And these are their homes. Even the way they’ve positioned them holds significance. This circle represents family and unity. There’s no beginning or end, it’s eternal, just like family. That’s also how they refer to the fire burning there: the eternal fire. They never allow it to go out, and light the braziers in their homes from it. Continuously it burns, just as the fire in our hearts and the love that fuels it.”

  Brahanu met his eyes, drawing him down for a kiss. “Bandari is beautiful, Pentanimir. I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”

  “Those were my thoughts when first you came to me.” He smiled, offering a gentle peck before continuing.

  “The building on the right is the temple, and you might find the dawa on the left interesting. The dawa is for both healing and learning. A high lord, Saifu Voney, serves as the lakaar and magister. Everyone in Bandari learns regardless of their past stations. Here, everyone is equal.”

  “What you describe seems impossible. Throughout the lands, you’re taught and treated according to your station. How’s it different here?”

  “It’s different because they understand and embrace the truth. They realized that no matter how you were born into the lands or to whom, you’re no different from any other. Our appearances might differ, or the way we live and speak, but what lies within us is the same. If one honestly measured our lives, our desires, passions, and needs against another, there’s more that’s alike than not. We are one unto the other.”

  “How is it possible? There are numerous differences in the peoples of our lands. Even our gods aren’t the same. I want to understand how—how—such a place can be. How are such beliefs imbued in the inhabitants here, yet aren’t common throughout the lands? In Cazaal, my father attempts much the same. He’s a high lord, yet permits our people to address him in the familiar. He welcomes them into our home, regardless of their standing in the lands. Even so, there are always those who seek division. If what you say is true, why wouldn’t the majority wish to live this way?”

  “That’s known to you, Brahanu. You can’t tell someone who is born into wealth and power that they’re the same as one born amongst cattle. To them, their station gives them the right to rule, and to pass judgment. That’s not something anyone would freely surrender to another. This morality and these laws are what make this place like no other. The same rights apply to everyone, regardless of past standings in Faélondul. There isn’t one among them that order the others. The Elders oversee Bandari as a whole, but they aren’t rulers. Each person here learns the trades of the others. Nurul was a fisherman in Kaleo. Now, he’s taught that skill to the others, and in turn, he learned how to reap and sow, how
to forge iron, and even how to bake bread and build.”

  A murmur of voices and differing conversations greeted them as they entered the hall. More than two score denizens sat around the long tables, supping together. The hall was grander from the inside with two huge hearths on both sides and flickering sconces adorning its painted walls. As Nurul ushered them forward, a dozen conversations abated nearly in unison. It appeared as if the entire village sat in the one room, offering nods as they passed. Brahanu smiled, and then paused, taking note of their features.

  “Are they Nazilian?” she whispered.

  “There are many Nazilians here, Brahanu. In Bandari, the humans and Nazilians live together, untouched by the Zaxson’s edicts.”

  “We welcome you, Pentanimir, Son of Manifir, and First Chosen of Nazil,” a man said. “It’s been too long, my son.”

  Pentanimir bowed. “Greetings, Elder Vot, and thank you for welcoming me again. If it pleases you, I’d like to introduce Lady Brahanu of Cazaal.”

  “Welcome, my child. You’re far from home.”

  “Thank you, Sir. I’ve never traveled to the mountains before.”

  “We don’t have any ‘sirs’ here, my child. I am an Elder, however, as you can tell by the space where a curly mop of hair used to grow.” He chuckled, as others joined in his mirth. Brahanu looked on amazed by not only the varying ethnicities of peoples, but also the familiarity they expressed toward Pentanimir.

  “Fascinating,” she whispered.

  “Please sit, join us,” Vot said, motioning to the empty seats.

  Pentanimir bowed again, handing their cloaks to Nurul as he led Brahanu to the Elder’s table. Her fascination only grew, gazing at the children. By their appearance, many of them were of a blended heritage.

  “Brahanu, we’re pleased with your visit. Long ago, I knew many in your village,” Vot said, stroking his white beard. “That was years ago, and in a different lifetime.”

  “I’m honored, Elder. I suffered a terrible accident, and if not for Pentanimir, I would’ve never known about Bandari.”

  “My child, there are no accidents. Terrible circumstances, perhaps, but you meeting Pentanimir and coming here was no accident. This is where you were meant to be. Although the why of it is unknown, there’s always a purpose. Now, introductions are in order,” Vot said, pointing.

  “At the far right is Elder Emet, next to him is Elder Hosdaq, then there is me, with whom you’re acquainted,” he chuckled again. “To my far left, is Elder Olam, and lastly, is she who is my wife, Elder Huname.”

  Brahanu inclined her head respectfully, but looked at Hosdaq a moment longer.

  “Your eyes don’t deceive you, my lady. I’m Nazilian,” Hosdaq said.

  Brahanu couldn’t respond. There was something about him, something that caused a shiver to course down her spine. It wasn’t cruelty, but it wasn’t kindness, either.

  “Ah, your meal has arrived,” Vot said when the young girls approached with trenchers of smoked cod, fried onions and pease, and mugs of mead.

  Brahanu was famished, but more so relieved for the interruption.

  “Please bow as we give thanks,” Vot said. “We give honor to the One we serve, and offer our appreciation for this sustenance, and those you’ve brought safely to us.”

  “Pentanimir, what news do you bring of Nazil?” Hosdaq asked at the prayer’s end.

  “Draizeyn is of a singular mind regarding the new city. Once Spero is complete, he’ll turn toward Dessalonia. I fear the time will come too soon, and we must increase our effort to find Bandari a new home.”

  “But where could we go?” Huname asked. “Is there any place that Draizeyn hasn’t reached?”

  “The One god will guide us,” Vot said. “He led us here, did He not? We must have faith and persist. The answers will come.”

  “What about the Animus Wood?” Hosdaq asked. “You know what the Nazilians believe dwells there. Draizeyn wouldn’t stray too near their boarders.”

  Pentanimir shook his head. “I’ve considered the same, and at great length. My fear of the wood has little to do with any Nazilian tales of beguiling pythonesses. I’ve ventured there with my father numerous times. It’s not the tales that give me pause, it’s the terrain. You travel with women, children, herds, and carts. It would be difficult and slow. It’s an option, but one we should only choose if there’s no other.”

  Hosdaq nodded, and then looked at Brahanu curiously. A wry grin creased his lips when he noticed her hand resting atop Pentanimir’s.

  “Brahanu, how do you find Pentanimir?” Hosdaq asked.

  Brahanu met his eyes with the shock from his question aptly showing in hers. Though she didn’t fear the Elders, she did fear what lie in her heart. Acknowledging their love would be admitting to the failing within herself.

  “It’s all right, Brahanu,” Pentanimir said. “Hosdaq is merely curious. You can speak your mind without worry.”

  “I—I find him well.”

  “Well?” Hosdaq repeated. “This is a good thing, is it not? To be found well. My child, it appears that your interest in Nazil’s First Chosen surpasses merely his health. Either that, or my eyes have begun to fail me,” he said, rubbing his eyes and then looking at her again.

  “Elder Hosdaq, Brahanu and I are fond of each other,” Pentanimir said. “It’s a normal reaction with the recent circumstances we’ve faced. She’s most honorable and—”

  “Yes...yes, you have honor. She has honor. All of us here have honor. What shows in the eyes of you and your lovely companion is quite different. Whether you dismiss it for our sake or your own is for you to decide. We are old, First Chosen, but we’re not without sight.”

  “Forgive me, Elders, I wasn’t attempting to deceive. I was merely tempering my words out of respect. Brahanu and I do care for each other, but those feelings don’t supersede our obligations. Brahanu is a lady of Cazaal, and must return to her home,” he said, looking over at her. “And to the one that she’s promised to wed.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” Vot said. “Our hearts know only what they know: we can’t command them not to love. Ofttimes, it’s the heart that leads. We don’t have to follow, but then it shall grieve, and the whole along with it.”

  “You speak of hearts?” Hosdaq asked. “In different times, mayhaps one could allow the heart to lead. These times aren’t as such. Tell me, Pentanimir, what does Oxilon say about the heart? When faced with your duty, which will you choose?”

  “You men and your talk of hearts and duty,” Huname said. “There’ll be time on the morrow to speak of this. It grows late and their journey was long. Now that they’ve eaten, we must let our guests take rest,” she said, regarding them with a smile. “Pentanimir, the usual whare near the path has been prepared for you. Retrieve a pail of water from the spring and Hibret will bring some fresh tunics. Go on now and rest.”

  “As always, you are wise, Elder. Until the morrow,” he said, helping Brahanu stand.

  “My gratitude for your hospitality,” Brahanu added.

  A silence fell over the Elders as they watched the couple exit. Once the heavy wooden door closed, the Elders turned to Olam.

  “Tell us what you saw,” Vot said.

  Olam was the youngest of the Elders, and his lithe build and hairless face made him appear much younger than he was. His thick, black curls framed his face, giving him a more youthful appearance, and the higher pitch of his voice sounded more feminine than masculine. Olam had the gift of sight, a most profound blessing, and that had been invaluable to Bandari.

  “What I’ve seen has given me pause. Thus far, everything revealed in my vision has come to pass. Brahanu is the one that we’ve awaited, and with her, the answers to many of our questions.” He paused as a flicker of understanding reached him. “Pentanimir must be the faceless man that I saw accompanying her. I thought that it might be him, but I wouldn’t speak so without certainty.”

  “Yes-s-s,” Vot agreed, the assertion coming forth in a l
ong hiss. “Mayhaps Pentanimir’s role had yet to be decided. His significance is becoming more prevalent throughout the seasons. Kuhani has spoken about his father’s relevance in the lands, but mayhaps it’s the son that will truly create the change that you’ve seen in Faélondul.”

  “It’s Oxilon who gives me pause,” Hosdaq said. “He’s determined to have Pentanimir pledged to the Zaxson’s daughter. Never has there been such an ill match, but Oxilon is his uncle and heads the family. Brahanu is a complication Pentanimir cannot bear.”

  “A complication?” Huname said. “The vision has come to pass, Hosdaq. Brahanu is here, and the fact that Pentanimir is with her has significance. Didn’t you notice the love between them?”

  “There’s more,” Olam said. “I’ve seen a child.”

  “What?” Emet asked.

  “Yes, a child, and one of great importance. Not even Brahanu is aware of him growing within her.”

  “A…a child?” Hosdaq said. “A son? Who’s the father? Have you seen this?”

  “Yes, Pentanimir is the father.”

  “That can’t be! He’s First Chosen of Nazil. Once his pledge is secured, he’ll wed Denotra. If this is true, he’s dishonored Brahanu, himself, and Nazil. What are we to do?”

  “The decision doesn’t lie with us,” Vot said. “It’s for them to decide. Brahanu might choose to remain with us instead of returning to her village. Once the child is born, it would be impossible to hide his parentage.”

  “Not necessarily,” Emet said. “My mother was Nazilian, yet no one can tell that by my appearance. Not all children with a blended heritage show Nazilian features. Only my brother’s hair betrays his ties to the white city. We can’t know until the child is born.”

  “You speak true,” Vot said. “No one can truly know until we do. However, most children do at least have the eyes of Nazil. You and Nzuri favor your father, Gayu. But we can’t be certain the same would be true for Brahanu’s son.”