Stroking his matted hair, she winced, feeling the contusions beneath. “Can you hear me? My name’s Hushar, and I’m going to help you, I promise to help you. Can you speak?”
He nodded languidly, his face contorting in a rictus of pain. “K—kill me,” he breathed, between stuttered, shallow breaths.
Tears lined her eyes as she gently caressed his shoulder. “No, young one, no. I’m going to take care of you. You’ll be with me now, and I’ll care for you.”
“I have the water,” Jahno said, stepping back into the cell. “Surma wouldn’t allow me to heat it, but I have some old furs and cloth.”
“Thank you, I’ll make due,” she said, scooping some water up in a cup and moving back to the mattress. “You must drink, but slowly, very slowly.”
Partially lifting his head, Hushar poured water into Wosen’s open mouth. Although his throat was raw and the cool water caused the spaces in his mouth to ache, he drank it down quickly.
“There, now, you’ll have more, later. It’s not good to drink too much just now. I’ll need to clean you up so I can help you. There’s a lot of blood. Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”
Raising a trembling hand, Wosen pointed downward as tears poured from his eyes. Hushar turned, wiping away her own.
“You must stop this,” Jahno cautioned. “Clean your face, Hushar, please. The guard watches; you mustn’t do this.”
“Thank you, Jahno,” she said in the clearest tone that she could manage. “I’ll tend to him right away.”
Jahno glanced over his shoulder and then leaned forward, quickly pecking her cheek. “It’s all right, Hushar, he’ll be all right.”
After Jahno left the cell, she took a steadying breath, sitting next to Wosen.
“I’m going to mix a tincture of herbs for you. It’ll ease your pain, but you’ll sleep for a bit. While you rest, I’ll check your wound and stop the bleeding. I’ll remove the nail then, too. I’m not going to touch it until then. It’ll still ache after it’s tended, but the herbs should help with that. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Mixing the herbs, Hushar occasionally peered up at the guards. When they moved down the corridor, she poured water over the herbs, kneeling beside him again.
“This will taste a bit bitter, but it’ll soothe you. I need you to drink all of it,” Hushar said, holding the bowl to his swollen lips. “Good, now I’ll tend to your other wounds and allow the herbs to work. It shouldn’t take long.”
She poured some water into the bowl, soaking a cloth. After wringing it, she began to clean the blood from his face and neck, causing Wosen to moan.
“Forgive me. I’ll tend those once you sleep. They’re deeper than I thought.”
Drizzling water over his hair, she gently combed her fingers through. She cringed, feeling the numerous gashes and contusions as she washed the blood away. Gods, he’s been to all seven hells. Please, Guardians, guide my hands and make him well.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Wo—Wosen.”
“How did you get to Nazil, Wosen? Are there others with you?”
His lips trembled as his tears returned. I murdered my father and abandoned my family to become a Chosen of Nazil…to have honor. Now I pray for death.
“No, no, no, shhh. I’m sorry. Just rest, Wosen, rest. Let the herbs take you,” she said, wanting to cry herself.
She stroked his swollen face, dabbing the wounds on his chest. When she soaked the cloth again, his ragged breathing was steady.
“Wosen?” she whispered.
When he didn’t respond, she carefully turned him on his side. Pouring water over his arse, she glimpsed the ripped and raw, gaping hole that was his anus. “Gods, how am I to mend such a wound?”
After rolling him on his stomach, she found tubing, thread, and needles in the basket. Rubbing an ointment around his opening, she inserted a tube filled with herbed water. When it could go no further, she blew hard, forcing the liquid into the battered cavity. She wiped her mouth, pouring more water over the area and then applied some healing ointment. Once the bleeding slowed, she began to close the wound, leaving the tube in place. Wosen twitched, feeling the poke of the needle, but he didn’t wake. With the wound sealed, she cleansed the area again. While he was yet turned, Hushar washed and treated his face, back and legs, then laid fresh cloth beneath him.
“There now, young one,” she said, laying him on his back. “I’ll wrap your ribs and mayhaps they’ll bring some clothes for you.”
She rubbed some herbs on his chest, pulling the strips of cloth tight.
“You’ve done well for him, Hushar,” Jahno said. “Already some color returns.”
“Well, there’s still a lot to do. He’ll be in pain, but the bleeding has stopped.”
“The Zaxson will be pleased.”
“Yes, well, we live to serve, do we not?”
“Not always,” he said, solemnly. “Surma sent some bread and mulled wine for him.”
“They want him well, yet barely feed him? The boy is nothing but bones, Jahno.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Well, the mulled wine will help soothe him. I’ll need to soak the bread, though; his gums are raw and bleeding from the teeth they removed.”
Jahno winced. “Don’t you have something to help him?”
“I need some salt and warm water. If I mix it with the herbs, it would lessen the pain and help him heal.”
Jahno leaned closer, whispering. “I’ll bring it to you. My duties are in the kitchen and a small pinch of salt and a scoop of honey won’t be missed. I’ll have to ask permission for the water.”
“I offer my gratitude as well as his, Jahno. Always you’ve been a sweet boy.”
He smiled as she rested a warm hand on his cheek. “Is there anything else that I can do?”
“Yes, I need to move him off the wet and soiled covers. I’ll pile the furs over there for him. That should work for now. If you help, I can have him moved and covered before he wakes.”
He nodded, watching her layer and fluff the old worn furs. Together, they carried Wosen over to the pallet, using the remaining cloth to cover him.
“I pray he heals well,” Jahno said.
“Save your prayers. He only receives care to be tortured again. They’ll continue to have me heal him until they tire of their abuse. I pray the gods take me from this place so I’ll no longer witness such suffering.”
“Watch what you speak, Hushar, please. I don’t want them to take you, too. We must do as we’re commanded, and no longer belong to ourselves. I can’t endure much longer either, but if anything happened to you, I wouldn’t survive.”
She sighed, gathering the used cloth. She didn’t need to be reminded of their situation, but Jahno did need her. He would’ve succumbed long ago if not for her care and her love. Hushar had survived longer in Nazil than any other human captive. She had endured and witnessed atrocities she’d hoped Jahno would never know or suffer. Gazing up at him then, she prayed that it would remain that way.
“Can you toss these in the brazier,” she asked, handing Jahno the bundled cloth. “When time allows, please bring what I need. I know you can’t stay.”
As he turned to leave, she glanced over at Wosen again. “Jahno, wait. Why was he treated so ill?”
“You haven’t heard? They say that his father was a Chosen in Nazil many years past, and his mother was a human from Hyorin. He claims that there’s a hidden village where humans and Nazilians live freely. It seems something of a myth to me, but look at him. His eyes are of Nazil, and he wore their armor and Xtabyren. He even mentioned his father’s name.”
“His name? Who did he say?”
“Hosdaq—”
“Neufmarche,” they said in tandem.
“Do you know his father?”
“I know only the name, Jahno. If he is the same, I might’ve known his mother. Her name was Esme, and she indeed lived in Hyorin before its destruction.”
“Why does he h
ave to remain in the citadel, Father? I feel sullied every time I think of him. Why can’t the Cha keep him at the temple?”
“Denotra, we wouldn’t defile our temple with the blood of that abomination. He’ll remain in the citadel. Besides, we have the tools for interrogation here.”
“Father, now that we know where this village is, when are we going to destroy it?” Daracus asked. “Surely, the traitors know that abomination isn’t there. They might flee.”
“Flee where, Daracus?” Draizeyn asked. “The arms of Nazil encompass the lands.”
“And still they were able to escape our grasp. If the abomination was born in the village, it’s stood as long as I’ve drawn breath. How’s that even possible?”
“It’s possible because we aren’t feared as we once were. They couldn’t have survived this long without assistance. These traitors will pay for their treachery. It’s time for the humans to shudder at the thought of Nazil once more.”
“What about Spero?” Denotra said. “I want to visit Pentanimir. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him.”
“It isn’t safe for you to travel just now. I trust but a few to escort you, and your brother must remain in Nazil.”
“What about Yannick or Pentanimir’s uncle and brother? Surely, you would trust them and a retinue of Chosen.”
“Oxilon and Yannick also need to remain, and Danimore has taken a position as his brother’s second. You must wait, my daughter. Let us discover more of the abomination’s secrets.”
Denotra pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why should I have to wait because of that piece of filth? Why did he come here, anyway? I want him dead!”
Daracus chuckled. “He came here to join the Chosen and gain honor. The savage claimed his father was a Chosen, and he wanted to carry on the family tradition.”
“Silence, Daracus,” Draizeyn snapped. “He could speak true. It sickens me to think that Hosdaq would turn against his people. He was once a man of honor. We fought in battles together and emerged victoriously. Now, to think he’d corrupt the blood of Nazil with this filth.”
“Forgive me, Father. He’ll hang beside his son and share in his suffering. We’ll make him answer for what he’s done.”
Return to Cazaal
Darkness was descending as the lone carriage traversed the narrow streets. The light drizzle and diminishing sun signaled the day’s end, minimalizing the usual village traffic. This time, Pentanimir requested no announcement of his arrival. Only seasoned sentries that Hacom trusted manned the main gate. Donning a balaclava and cowl, Pentanimir commanded the carriage himself. When he reached the citadel gates, Katar was waiting to receive him.
Pentanimir hopped down, assisting his brother and guests from inside. When Katar approached, Pentanimir slid back his cowl and balaclava enough for him to see his face.
“Care—caretaker,” Katar said, bowing. “Pardons, I didn’t know it was you.”
Pentanimir winked, placing a gold coin in his hand. “No one is supposed to know.”
Replacing his cowl, Pentanimir led his guests through the courtyard. Katar kept watch, ensuring they reached the entry safely. The sentries on the wall knew of their arrival, yet not of their identity. Danimore looked at his brother, noticing the sentries’ increased activity. Even with his features shielded, he was concerned.
“The Caretaker doesn’t know much about Brahanu and me,” Pentanimir whispered. “I might have to reveal more to them, but not everything.”
“As you say, Brother.”
Once the door opened, Nived greeted them with a bow, leading them directly to the hall where the Caretaker’s family waited.
“Welcome, Pentanimir,” Hacom said. “Forgive me; I’m not familiar with your companions.”
“Thank you for your welcome and your discretion. Please allow me to introduce my brother, Danimore; his promised, Zeta; their son, Raithym; and our guest, Gali.”
“Pardons, but did you say promised?” Julaybeim asked.
“I did. My brother and Zeta are to wed.”
“Aren’t such ceremonies forbidden?” Amani asked.
“They are forbidden in Nazil, yes,” Pentanimir said. “However, we’re no longer in Nazil.”
Offering a bow, he regarded Brahanu as the others were shown to their seats.
“I’m pleased that you’re well, Lady Gael,” Pentanimir said, taking her hand. “Barely a scar remains. Your husband has tended you well,” Pentanimir added, meeting Itai’s baleful stare. “I’m pleased to see you again, Itai.”
After clasping Itai’s hand, Pentanimir sat next to Brahanu, admiring his son growing inside of her.
“Danimore,” Brahanu said. “I’d hoped to meet you. Your brother spoke so highly of you and your family.”
“Thank you. He did about you as well…many times.”
The silence was deafening as Pentanimir and Brahanu desperately attempted to ignore each other. Each pulse of his heart sent a surging heat throughout his body that caused sweat to bead his brow. After several sobering breaths, he turned toward the door, noticing Gali still standing beside it. He rose then, taking her hand, and guiding her to the table.
“Gali, it’s all right, you don’t have to be afraid. You’re a guest of the Caretaker, as are we.”
Itai’s brow knitted. “Is she all right?”
“She will be in time,” Pentanimir said. “I must have you know that Gali formerly served a home in Nazil. Before her arrival there, she was a lakaar in Kaleo. I had the fortune of getting to know her when Zeta fell ill, and I asked my brother to bring her when he traveled to Spero. We’ll escort her to Kaleo once she has time to adjust.”
“Do you mean to say that she was a slave in your city?” Julaybeim spat.
“I spoke exactly what I meant, young lord.”
“And what of this one?” Julaybeim asked, pointing at Zeta.
Danimore whipped around, his eyes narrowing. His patience wasn’t that of his brother’s. “Zeta is promised to me, and Raithym is my son. If we could’ve wed in Nazil, it would already be so.”
“Yes, yes, well, let us begin our meal,” Hacom said, nervously.
“I have a request, Caretaker,” Pentanimir said. “It may seem anomalous, but I promise you, it’s necessary.”
“Ask what you will, Pentanimir.”
“I ask for you to dismiss your attendants and close the doors. We have important matters to discuss, and I would only have those seated here to know the content.”
“You needn’t worry about our attendants. They’re loyal to me and Cazaal.”
“Hacom, I don’t intend to imply differently. However, I’d only speak of such matters to you and your family. I’m not afforded the luxury of trust, and won’t risk innocents on the assumption that everyone in my proximity can hold their tongue. That’s never been true, no matter how loyal.”
“He has a point, husband,” Amani said. “If what he has to discuss is of such a serious nature, mayhaps we should heed his words. I’ll take Ameya to our chamber for evening meal, and you can tell me about this later.”
“It will be so,” Hacom conceded, excusing the servants.
“Now that my mother has been forced from her own hall, what have you to say, Chosen of Nazil?” Julaybeim said.
Pentanimir shifted away from him, regarding Hacom. “I’ve come to warn you that Draizeyn is planning a move in the lands soon.”
“A move? Do you speak of war?”
“That’s his desire,” Pentanimir said, turning to Brahanu. “Wosen is a captive in Nazil.”
“By the gods, Wosen? What’ll be done with him?”
“Wait, who is this Wosen, and why should we care?” Julaybeim asked.
Danimore’s face darkened. “Young lord, you should give great care of how you speak. My brother comes here to warn you of a possible war and all you see is the face of Nazil. Is your ignorance so profound that you’d allow your prejudice to cause everyone in your village to perish?”
Pentan
imir attempted to protest, but Hacom shook his head.
“No, Pentanimir, your brother speaks true. Julaybeim, you’ve shown nothing but contempt and disrespect to the Caretaker and his guests. They’re risking themselves to aid us. Why must you allow your hatred of a few to cloud your mind?”
“Why? Father, he comes here with slaves. They pretend that we’re their equals, but he has slaves,” Julaybeim said, standing and gesturing at Zeta. “This one has scars and marks all over her. Do you see her child? Do any of you see? This child is Nazilian. No doubt a child of rape and torture, yet they’d have us believe it’s from love. You wonder why I hate them. This is why. We’re nothing but chattel to them.
“And you,” he said, pointing at Pentanimir. “You haven’t taken your eyes off my sister since your arrival. You dishonor our home and her husband! Your lust can’t be denied.”
Pentanimir rested a steadying hand on Danimore’s arm as he began to rise. “Zeta, mayhaps you could tell them about Raithym. I think the young lord could benefit from such truths. Then, I’ll share my thoughts with him as well.”
“Please forgive him, Pentanimir,” Hacom said. “My son is young and doesn’t truly understand what he says.”
“If Julaybeim’s slights are needed to have us further our discussion, so be it. I’ll not dishonor myself or your home. Some of what he’s spoken holds truth,” he said, looking at Brahanu.
“When I first saw your daughter, it was in the midst of a storm. Even with her clothing sodden and sullied, her beauty captivated me. I was charged to protect the city, but I only wanted to protect her. As I led Brahanu to safety, I admit: she took my heart, and I didn’t want it back.”
“Watch your tongue, son of Nazil,” Itai said, standing over him. “You speak of my wife!”
“It’s all right, husband,” Brahanu said, caressing his hand. “Pentanimir doesn’t intend to dishonor either of us. He knows about the love we share.”
“If you must, tell all of it, but choose your words carefully,” Hacom warned.
“Beg pardon. I’m only offering the truth. I’m not attempting to disrespect or provoke anyone. Julaybeim raised a point that I mean to answer. Denying what lies within my heart only serves to deceive, and I’ll speak only the truth.
The Rise of Nazil Page 47