The Rise of Nazil

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  Danimore sighed. “You’re right. I’ve suffered his rebuke for far too long, and I’ve grown weary. Now, this. Never has he laid a hand on me.”

  “Dani, what happened? I heard raised voices. Oh gods, your face?”

  “I’m fine, Zeta. My uncle and I had a...disagreement. You don’t need to worry.”

  “But your face—”

  “Will heal in time. You should be abed.”

  “Yes, Zeta. Gali told you to rest. Sir Merrimont has agreed to have her tend you in our absence. She’ll arrive daily after evening meal. Expect her visits and say nothing about Dani or me. You can’t trust anyone in the city.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Dani, help Zeta back to bed and I’ll fetch the barrel and supplies from the market. We must make haste and meet the others at the stables.”

  “Yes, Brother.”

  Danimore lifted Zeta from the floor, carrying her down the hall.

  “Pentanimir speaks true, Zeta. If anyone learns how I feel about you, we’d be in great danger.”

  “How you feel about me?” she asked, as he laid her on the bed.

  “Yes. We can’t—”

  “You’ve never told me how you feel about me, Dani.”

  “Zeta, I’m serious. You’ve suffered at the citadel, but not at my uncle’s hands. His methods of torture are what caused his rapid rise within the citadel. He alone was able to extract information from captives that Draizeyn and Naughton before him desired. We must be careful.”

  “All right, Dani, I promise.” She paused, gripping his hand. “But you still haven’t told me how you feel about me.”

  His face flushed, meeting her emerald eyes. “I—I love you, Zeta.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Secret of the Scrolls

  “Nzuri, thank you for taking the time to meet with us,” Hushar said. “We know that you’ve been busy.”

  He motioned for them to sit, pulling scrolls from the shelf. “It’s my pleasure. What you conveyed about the Animus Wood was intriguing,” he said, unrolling a scroll on the desk, and setting stones at the ends to keep it flat.

  “It took some time, but with Kuhani’s assistance, I found several entries of interest.”

  “Will Kuhani be joining us?” Huname asked.

  “Not this day. Kuhani’s meditating on the enigmas we’ve discovered. His command of the written Mehlonii language is superlative, but even he isn’t certain about some of this,” Nzuri said, motioning to the scroll.

  “What is it, what have you found?”

  Nzuri pointed at some barely legible text on the page. “You see here? There’s a passage that mentions the ‘realm of the divine.’”

  “Realm of the divine,” she repeated. “Does it mention where or what this is?”

  “It doesn’t give a direct location or if it’s a tangible place. It only mentions clandestine images and words that have lost meaning. There’s no indication if it’s a physical place, only that it exists. But there’s more.” Nzuri flipped his long, silvery-white hair over his shoulder, unrolling another scroll atop the first.

  “This image is of great interest. Some parts of it have faded, but most is intact.” There were seven figures depicted: six encircling one that hovered above the others. All their heads were raised, with their arms extended. As they looked closer, it seemed as if the six were emitting light with a ray contacting the seventh.

  “What does this mean, Nzuri?” Huname asked.

  He shook his head, pointing to another place on the scroll. “The writing is unclear. There’s mention of a merging, divine light, and Guardians, but most of the text is illegible. However, there’s some indication that these beings were to walk among us. Look here,” Nzuri said. “There’s a name inscribed, but part of the scroll has been damaged. All we could clearly discern is Af and rea. I’m not certain if it speaks of the divine or mayhaps those who encircle them. What is certain is that these beings were believed to be rulers or protectors of these lands. They were once worshiped and were among the populace. Several entries pertain to the one they call a messenger. Somehow, he’d move among the people without revealing himself. He’d lead them toward their purpose or steer them from harm. There are chants and prayers written, and tales of how they lent aid and blessed those who followed them.”

  “Were their names or deeds mentioned that we would recognize?” Vot asked.

  “We’ve only just begun, Elder. There are many scrolls left to decipher. Much is written only in the old tongue, and my knowledge of the language isn’t as it should be. With Kuhani’s aid, I’ve been able to manage. If what we’ve found thus far bares truth, there’s much we need to do.”

  “If divine beings such as this did exist, that could explain the force which was able to drive the Dessalonians to the mountains.”

  “Elder Huname! You’ve brought something back to my remembrance.” Nzuri hurried to the shelf again, sorting through the scrolls. “Here,” he said, returning to the table. “When you mentioned Dessalonians, it brought this image back to my remembrance. You see these beings? Now, look here.”

  Vot shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Look closer,” Nzuri said, indicating a place on the scroll. “Here again are seven beings, and the one in the center is larger than the other six. Although badly damaged, you can see this is meant to portray light or some sort of radiance. Now, further over here, beyond these trees are much larger beings with sticks, or weapons mayhaps. And right here and here, these beasts.” Nzuri’s eyes darted back and forth. “Look at the beings described as divine. Look at their stance and the way their hands have been portrayed.”

  “Yes, yes, I see what you mean,” Huname said.

  “The beings’ hands are extended as if they’re pushing the larger ones away,” Nzuri said. “And here, behind them, are also trees or forest. They’re standing in a clearing as they force the others away from them.”

  “Aizen and Ahni spoke about a clearing,” Vot said. “They said they felt drawn to it.”

  Huname nodded. “They also mentioned a great statue there as well.”

  Nzuri glanced at them curiously. “Your sons saw a clearing and a statue?”

  “Yes, Nzuri,” Vot said. “They said there was a path within the wood which led to it.”

  “Husband, don’t forget the shadow. The shadow that remained at their lead as they traversed the path.”

  “Elders, there’s more we need to do to discover the answers. Being led by a shadow...or...or a messenger.” Nzuri’s eyes widened. “If they’ve seen what’s described, mayhaps parts of this holds truth.”

  “We can’t dismiss it any longer,” Vot said, turning toward his wife. “We have always considered the story of the Dessalonians a myth, but what’s pictured here could be the Dessalonians themselves being banished from the wood by the beings who dwell there.”

  “Elders, let us not think too much on what we’ve seen. We believe in the One god. Can we so easily cast this aside?”

  “Nzuri, this isn’t our intent,” Vot assured. “We’ve no choice but to venture into these woods. We must learn all we can, even if it’s myth and conjecture.”

  “But how do we know that the one we worship and these beings aren’t one and the same?” Huname asked.

  Nzuri’s brow creased. “I don’t understand, Elder. How can these beings and our god be the same?”

  “Look at the drawings. Always there’s one larger or above the others. Only one. Couldn’t it be a depiction of the one we serve? Mayhaps the others are only elements of the great one.”

  Nzuri nodded, scrutinizing the scroll. “Your point does hold merit. Kuhani has spoken of multiple elements of the One god in reference to the Seven. We’ll continue to search the scrolls for a better understanding.”

  “Thank you, Nzuri. You and Kuhani have always been a blessing to this village.”

  “It’s an honor to serve, Elders. If not for you, none of us would’ve ever experienced the p
eace of Bandari. It’s you who’ve blessed us.”

  Huname smiled, offering him an embrace. “Your parents would be proud of you, Nzuri. Your father forewent a much different life to ensure your happiness.”

  “He did, and I’m thankful. When next we travel, I’ll send a message to grandfather as well. Emet hasn’t visited Noraa in some time.”

  “You’ll need to remedy that soon. Now, we’ll return home and continue our preparations. If you have any news, please send for us immediately.”

  “As you wish.”

  As they exited the temple, Vot draped an arm over her shoulder, looking out over the village. “Do you truly believe the tales of such beings a possibility, Huname?”

  “We can’t dismiss such findings because we choose not to believe. How much has been lost due to such ignorance? If the tales are true, it’s our own inaction that has separated us from the divine. Gods seek the prayers of their children, Vot. Could it be that we’ve fallen to such a state for lack of belief and prayer?” Huname sighed. “Even in the most elaborate tales, there’s always a hint of truth. The Nohek Karab had these scrolls salvaged for a purpose. He gave his life in order for these to be saved. The information contained within must be valuable. Mayhaps he wanted us to discover the truth in our own time.”

  “It’s our onus to ascertain those truths,” Vot said. “Whether it be through the scrolls or through our journey, we’ll know soon enough.”

  As they continued, they noticed Hosdaq and Osmara seated near the eternal fire. She held on to his hand, leaning in to him. Hosdaq looked disheveled, continuously shaking his head. When Osmara stood to leave, Vot paused, but saw Kuhani approaching. He continued on, leaving them to speak.

  “Sir Neufmarche,” Kuhani said, in a deep and commanding tone. Even after more than a score of years in Faélondul, his K’ohshulian accent remained. He flipped his long braid over his shoulder, clasping his hands behind his back. “Twice you’ve missed our meeting. Are you not well?”

  “I haven’t been well for some time, Drah’kuu Kuhani.”

  “Indeed. Are you to join Osmara then?”

  “No, she asked, but I’ve no mind for such things.”

  “She desires to be there for you, Elder, as do we all. Don’t dismiss her so quickly. Osmara might possess some of what you seek,” he said, sitting beside him. “We always spar every third sun. Is there cause as to why you’ve made no move to honor our arrangement?”

  “Forgive me. It wasn’t my plan to do so. Time appears to have passed too soon, and now draws at an end.”

  “At an end? Explain your meaning, and mayhaps together we can find a resolution to such constraints.”

  “The concerns I have couldn’t be resolved if there were many attempting the solution. My son is lost, Kuhani. He’s lost, and the fault is mine.”

  “Hosdaq, don’t place blame on yourself for circumstances of which you have no control. This does nothing to alleviate the condition. It only prolongs your feeling of helplessness. You need to focus on a resolution and how to continue from this point.”

  “Don’t you understand? There is no resolution. Wosen is determined to defy me, to defy us all.”

  Hosdaq stood, pacing in front of him. Kuhani had never seen him this unsettled, and he was worried about his friend.

  “Tell me everything that happened.”

  “I had eyes yet did not see. Everyone warned me of my mistake, even you, but I wouldn’t heed their words. I allowed my pride to impede my good sense. Now, we all might have to suffer for an old man’s transgressions. Forgive me, Kuhani. For nearly twenty years, we’ve lived in peace. We cleared the land and built homes, a temple, stables, and all the things we needed to live. And we did live, Kuhani. We had a wonderful life.” Hosdaq smiled wistfully, sitting down again. “Do you recall how happy Esme was when we completed our home? She didn’t think it’d be finished before Wosen was born.”

  “I do. Huname could barely keep her still during those times. Your wife loved you more than anyone in these lands, my friend.”

  “I loved her, too, more than I could ever express. I still love her. How could Wosen defile her memory this way? He’s grown to hate everything human about himself. In my effort to make him proud of his Nazilian heritage, I’ve caused him to deny his humanity.”

  “There’s no blame for instilling pride in who we are. Many men of Nazil have great honor, my friend. It’s the corrupt within the white city that plague these lands. I’m proud of my people, just as you are. It’s when that pride subjugates another where the difficulties begin.”

  “But knowing this and knowing why we came here, how can he want to join them?”

  “Wosen is young and doesn’t fully appreciate the enormity of his decision. Mayhaps his acquaintance with Pentanimir has given him a false reality. He sees all of Nazil in its First Chosen.”

  “Do you think if Pentanimir spoke with him that he’d understand?” Hosdaq asked.

  “Nothing is impossible, but the time for this was long ago. Not even Pentanimir may sway him now. Where’s he gone?”

  “I don’t know. We had a disagreement and he left some time ago.”

  Kuhani stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me, Elder. Yonas will prepare some mulled wine, and we’ll speak of coming plans. This air is chill, and I fear you’ve been exposed far too long. Come.”

  The two of them walked the short distance to the priest’s quarters. As the door closed, Wosen appeared from the wood. He crept forward, ensuring he wasn’t seen. His slender body slid against the side of the building, and he peered inside the small window. His father stood near the table as Yonas reached out to embrace him.

  Fools and cowards, all of them. I’ll live among them no longer. I’ll have my place of honor among my people, and no one will keep me from it.

  Wosen shook his head, moving toward his home. His feet dragged the ground as he kicked at small rocks along the way. When he opened the door, splashing water caught his attention. He stared at his sister, washing plates in the tub. Malkia’s long, white hair brushed the floor as she knelt elbow deep in the water. The longer Wosen stood and observed her, the angrier he became.

  She thinks she’s better than me. Her features may be Nazilian, but she’s nothing but a human. On her knees is where she belongs.

  He crept to his father’s chamber, staring at the wooden door. His fingers traced the patterns in the wood, picturing Hosdaq being consoled by the priest. His jaw tightened then, pushing through the door.

  The room was modest and well kept, with adornments on the wall from Hosdaq’s youth and Nazil, a life his son sorely desired.

  Wosen’s eyes rested on a large wooden chest against the wall. He stepped forward, licking the dryness from his lips. His father had forbade him from going into his chest, but he no longer cared. Running his fingers over the carving across the top, he lifted the light film that rested there. He blew away the rest and said, “Sir Neufmarche,” tracing the letters as he did so.

  “Yes, Father, I, too, will be a Chosen of Nazil.”

  He slowly opened the chest as if expecting something to leap from inside. His pale eyes widened, peering down at the exquisite items within.

  “The Xtabyren,” he breathed, pulling the weapon from its sheath. “The weapon of a true warrior.”

  Wosen stood, swiping and slashing with the curved sword. Before he knew it, he was charging and laughing aloud. The light glinted off the blade, and he stopped, running his fingers over the etched lettering. “Honor Above All.”

  He laid the Xtabyren aside, removing the armor, belt, and cloak. “These must be cleaned and oiled. Surely, there’s a whetstone somewhere here,” he said, rummaging through the chest. When he didn’t find what he wanted, he allowed the lid to fall, and then flinched at the loud noise that followed. Grabbing up the items, he turned, only to see Malkia standing in the doorway.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you, Wosen. I thought Father was in here.” Her face scrunched, looking at wh
at he carried. “Are those Father’s?”

  “They’re mine,” Wosen said, pushing her aside.

  “Wosen, what’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?”

  He turned, glaring at his sister. “Don’t worry about me, Malkia. Go back to your scrubbing and leave me be.”

  “But Wosen, what did—”

  She cried out, falling back as the door slammed in her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she labored to her feet. Confusion and heartache consumed her young mind, not understanding her brother’s recent behavior or why he’d become so distant.

  When the front door opened, her tears increased, rushing to Hosdaq and Osmara.

  “Little one, oh, my Malkia, what’s wrong? Don’t cry, little one,” Hosdaq said, kneeling to hug her.

  She gripped him with all of her might, crying into his shoulder.

  Hosdaq glanced up at Osmara, and then cupped Malkia’s face in his hands, kissing her forehead and nose. “Please, my little one. Don’t cry. Tell me what happened. I promise to make it better.”

  “F—Father. Wosen, ha—hates me. I saw him in your room and—and he yelled at me and—and hit me with the door.”

  “What?”

  “He hates me.” Her hiccupping cries grew louder as he drew her back into his chest.

  My chamber? What was he doing, and why would he hurt his sister?

  Hosdaq caressed her back, kissing her again. “Don’t cry, little one. Wosen hasn’t been himself of late. He’s angry with only me, never you. You must forgive him, all right? He doesn’t realize what he’s doing.”

  He stood, lifting her to his hip. “Osmara, thank you for preparing the meal, but I need to speak with Wosen. If you wish, we can sup together on the morrow. I’ll even prepare some fish,” he said, trying to mask the anger welling inside of him.

  “I’d like that. If you want, I can take Malkia with me. I bet Sahma would braid her hair, and we haven’t put out any scraps for the jaenitu. I could certainly use her help. She’s the best at finding just the right spot.”