Gali kept a close eye on Brahanu, while they retrieved what she needed. Her mind couldn’t calm as she played with Raithym, keeping him from under foot.
“How are the babes?” Danimore asked, when they returned with the cot and supplies.
“Hungry.” Zeta grimaced, looking at Brahanu’s first son. “My breast aches from the strength of his pull.”
Gali handed Raithym back to Danimore as she gathered the soiled cloth, tossing it into the flames. “I’ll need to get more water to wash.”
“Wait, Gali,” Julaybeim said. “I’ll come with you. It’s still not safe and the babes’ cries could’ve caught someone’s notice.”
When they left, Danimore sat next to Zeta, admiring his nephews. The larger of the two fluttered his lids, opening his puffy eyes.
“The eyes of Nazil.” Danimore smiled. “My brother’s sons.”
“Don’t cry, little one,” Pentanimir said in the most soothing tone that he could manage. “We’re going to find your brother and sister.”
“Where—where are we going?” Ameya cried.
“It’s far from here, little one.”
“Please, don’t kill me. Please. My father is the Caretaker of Cazaal. I want my mother, please take me back to my mother.”
Pentanimir’s heart ached. She’d never see her parents again in this life. He shook those painful thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead. They were nearing Spero, but couldn’t stop until they reached the pass. He prayed to all the gods that the horse would endure.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m a friend, and fought beside your father, not against him. Don’t you remember me?”
“You…you helped Brahanu.” He heard Ameya say as she clung to him tighter.
“Yes, little one. I helped your sister return to Cazaal, and I’m going to help you, too.”
Dessalonian Mountains
The cold was numbing as Wosen continued to run, slipping on the ice: each desperate footstep sending waves of agony through his body. The bitter wind rattled his lungs, stinging with every gasping breath. He’d never ventured this far north, and soon, the cloak and boots would scarcely protect him. Each step became more difficult as he watched the heat leave his body, hanging heavily in the air. He couldn’t stop. Though his body ached with exhaustion, and his lungs burned, if he stopped, he feared that he’d never rise again.
For the first time, Wosen quickly glimpsed behind. He hadn’t heard his pursuers in some time, but that was little consolation.
“I must continue,” he panted, focusing on the remnants of sunlight glimmering through a narrow cavern slit. “I can make it.”
Bringing his arms into his chest, Wosen leaned, attempting to keep the heavy manacles from scraping the flesh from his throbbing wrists.
When the glimmering hope in the distance drew closer, his prayers became more fervent. They began with the One god, and as he felt his resolve waning, he called out to the Guardians as well.
“Please,” Wosen begged, stumbling to his knees. “If you truly have watch over these lands, please help me! You’re the Guardians of us all!”
He cried out, bracing his hands against the frozen ground, trying to push up to his feet. When he righted himself, a low, feral growl sounded amongst the howling wind.
Wosen froze, his eyes darting around the rocky pass and crevices. The howl sounded again, shifting with the winds. Is that a wolf? They’re never seen alone, he thought, clearing the wind-blown snow from his eyes. “Please, Guardians, save me from this death.”
Wosen backed up, the howls drawing nearer. He could feel his heart quicken, frantically searching the growing darkness. He spun around, screaming, coming face to face with an enormous, snarling beast. Falling back in paralyzing terror, he couldn’t take his eyes off the creature. Its teeth, longer than his forearm, were razor sharp, and slaver dripped from them hungrily as it stalked toward him.
“Gods!” he yelled, not caring which would answer. “That’s NO wolf!” He continued pushing away, staring at the three eyes of the massive, horned beast.
“Get away! Stay back,” Wosen shouted, swinging the irons hanging from his wrist. He prayed for a bow, a sword, even a dagger. Anything to keep the hellish creature from sinking its teeth into his skin. “Get away,” he yelled again, his arms weakening from his exertion. The more he fought, the closer it advanced, not intimidated by his shouts or the ersatz weapon he wielded. Standing thrice the height of a horse, Wosen posed no threat to the daunting creature. Within moments, it had leaned down toward him again, its nose scrunching as it sniffed.
Wosen closed his eyes tight, turning away from its gaping maw. The heat of the beast’s breath stung his face while escalating his fear.
“Guardians, see me safely, please see me safely!” he whimpered in desperation.
[1]“Ar’raat!” The disembodied voice was thunderous, resonating off the towering peaks.
[2]“Meh’tol haEt!” The voice boomed again. Wosen pressed himself against the cavern wall, throwing his hands up as the beast growled but digits from his face. After many long moments, he peeked out of one eye, glimpsing only darkness.
“What?” he whispered, searching his surroundings while pushing off from the wall. There wasn’t any sign of the beast or the voice in the darkness…he was alone.
With trembling knees, Wosen forced himself forward, struggling to find his footing. When the sliver of light shone through the mountain’s crevice, he hastened through the deep snow, until the ground quaked, shifting the snow beneath him. He grappled at the empty air, falling and sliding down the icy embankment.
As he fought to pull himself free, the light between the peaks disappeared. “No,” he said, clearing the snow from his face. “Please, no.”
[3]“K’iende de’ suok?” an immense, shadowy figure demanded.
“By the gods!” Wosen yelled, falling completely within the mound.
The figure advanced, a massive hand extending toward him.
“No! Guardians, help me!”
“Guardians? K’iende de’ suok?” it repeated.
“Guardians of the wood,” Wosen replied, despondently, still moving away.
“Guardians of the wood?” it asked in the common tongue. “Who are you?”
Wosen’s fear escalated, searching frantically for any escape. “I—I’m Wo—Wosen. My people live at the foot of the mountains.”
“Your people?” The figure reached down, jerking Wosen from the snow.
[4]“Meh’tol HaEt.” Wosen heard it say, while thrashing futilely against its indomitable grasp. Within moments, the three-eyed beast returned. Wosen fought harder, being lifted into the air and then tossed upon the back of the fearsome creature. Before he could move to flee, the voice boomed in his ear.
[5]“Tennish!” With that command, the beast began running toward the light. Wosen cried out, his body lurching and bouncing clumsily atop the beast. With flailing hands, he clutched onto a hard, jagged plate behind the beast’s head.
[6]“Náelon, Baatheer!” The figure called out in the distance. Seeming from out of nowhere, huge wings emerged from the creature’s sides, nearly knocking Wosen off its back.
“Ah! No!” Wosen yelled as the beast lifted up from the ground, soaring over the tall peaks. He pressed himself down, hugging the massive animal, reciting every prayer that he’d ever learned, while ferocious laughter erupted from behind him.
Wosen’s fervent prayers ended as the beast landed hard, jarring him from its back. He rolled on the ground, greeted by deep and throaty laughter.
“Baldon, [7]K’iende ein’ lintch?” a voice called out.
Wosen groaned, rubbing his bruised arse. As he rolled on his side, his face blanched, frozen in a fear-filled mask. He was surrounded by enormous shadowy creatures, outlined in the fire’s light. Pairs of glowing eyes stared down at him, paralyzing both his words and his movements.
The figures stepped closer, the ground shuddering beneath them. With each step forwa
rd their features became more discernable and terrifying. Each of the many had pierced flesh adorned with heavy chains. Their heads were bald, but each had some embossed crest upon their brow. When Wosen met the eyes of one, his own widened: they were violet and identical to the beast that had assaulted him earlier.
[8]“Fain soun fain ein’ tak Bandari,” Baldon responded.
[9]“Bandari? R’aymed village ein’ niter-raom. R’aymed palatta unce becka east grinka dar’rassa kibe aand desh pouant,” Arinak said.
Wosen trembled. Are these the giants old mum told of? he thought, praying that they were.
Baldon turned. [10]“Dar’Rassad? dar’rassad Bandari?”
As they spoke, the three-eyed beast sniffed at Wosen, nudging him with its nose. Wosen clenched his eyes when its massive paw raised up, batting at him with such force that he spun in a complete circle.
[11]“Ar’raat!” Arinak commanded. “Ruan’schooc me’ol,” he said, causing the beast to sit obediently at his side. [12]“Beaz gon’neesa. Beaz gon’neesa, “Arinak said, stroking its muscled neck.
Wosen prayed silently, easing away from the beast and its owner. As he rose to his knees, a smaller figure emerged from a cave. Wosen fell back again, unable to make it out beneath the dark cloak and cowl.
[13]“Fain zo’ton gahn nahlo r’aymed ain’shinc r’rabeda, Baldon.” The voice was light and honeyed. “We must speak the language of the lands.”
Wosen shielded his eyes, laboring to his feet.
“They don’t believe that you’re from the village,” it continued. “The Nazilians laid waste to your Bandari. The deserted village brought them no prize.”
“Deserted?” Wosen’s voice cracked. “It’s deserted. Thank the gods and Guardians!” Wosen cried, overcome with emotion. “My family is safe. They’re safe.”
“You speak of the Guardians,” the figure said, advancing. “What do you know about them?”
Wosen glanced around nervously, licking the dryness from his cracked lips. “I was told that the Guardians are the true gods of the lands.”
“Is this all you’ve been told, man of Bandari? What about the mountains?”
“I don’t understand—”
“If you have knowledge of the Guardians, you should surely understand.” The figure stepped closer, leaning over him. “Or was that a lie?”
“No,” he offered, quickly. “I—I was told about creatures, great creatures who dwell in the mountains. They—they’re said to have once protected the Guardians until they were forced from the Animus Wood.”
“You say that you’re Bandarian, yet the eyes of Nazil are staring up at me.”
“Yes. If—if you know about my village, you know who lived there. It’s the only place in Faélondul where humans and Nazilians lived in peace. My father, Hosdaq, was Nazilian, but my mother was human.”
[14]“Faind’t wl’Eassa de’ tr’rond,” Tzadok said.
“It would seem so,” the smaller figure responded.
Wosen could hear his heart drumming in his ears as the creatures encircled him. His eyes darted from one to the other before looking back up at the smaller figure leaning over him.
Wosen gasped, pointing up as she removed her cowl. “Your eyes! You’re Nazilian.”
“No. My father was Nazilian, just like yours,” she said, walking away. [15]“Bo’Halla fainz aut ainshinc mea’keyna, Brukin. [16]Debanah resh Majadil,” the woman said, returning to the cave. As Wosen moved to follow, he was grabbed around his waist and hoisted over someone’s shoulder.
“Wait. Stop,” Wosen shouted, until noticing they were entering the cavern. The narrow entrance betrayed the enormity and beauty of what awaited inside.
The warmth was immediate, radiating from a great pit, carved in the cavern’s center. He blinked, acclimating his eyes to the brightness of the orange and yellow flares nearly erupting to the ceiling. Around the circular pit stood seven large wooden structures, at least, they appeared to be wood. He’d never seen such dark wood in all the lands. The surface was smooth and nearly black, engraved with art of some kind, depicting majestic beings and soaring creatures, standing taller than great columns in the temples.
The cavern walls were adorned with ornate shelves. Some displayed massive weapons: swords, axes, urumis, halberds, kamas, flails, and many he’d never previously seen. The armor and shields attached to the adjacent wall appeared more as delicate and wondrous artwork than implements of war. As he drew nearer, he noticed a smaller shelf with large, rounded objects, silvery links dangling from one edge, with markings identical to the crest he’d seen on the creatures’ foreheads.
The young woman smiled, removing her cloak.
When he observed what appeared to be shiny stones, his eyes followed their source upward. His mouth fell open. The walls of the cavern seemed to glitter, and the ceiling sparkled with the crepuscular splendor of infinite stars. Wosen looked on, astonished, wondering what could cause such a breathtaking effect. It was as if they were beneath a canopy of stars in the heavens, yet not so.
Wosen espied several large archways, and wondered what mysteries lay beyond. On either side, water lightly trickled down into wooden canals, causing a palliative, harmonic resonance that eased some of his trepidation.
Wosen followed the intriguing woman until she took a seat beside the pit. One by one, the huge creatures followed, taking a seat on the massive wooden structures around it. Baldon reached a two-sided axe from the wall, gesturing at him.
“He wants to strike your irons,” the woman said, noticing his terrified expression.
Wosen nodded nervously, stepping closer to the stone nearest Baldon. He draped the heavy irons over it, closing his eyes. With one fluid movement, Baldon released him from his bondage. He grabbed the small attachments, pulling them apart effortlessly. The flames leapt to the cave’s ceiling as he tossed the irons into the pit.
“Thank you.”
Baldon grunted, and replaced the axe before moving to his seat.
“Come, sit with us, son of Nazil,” she said.
Wosen raised his head, scrutinizing the mysterious woman. She had a petite, lean frame with long black hair worn in a braid that hung well past her arse. The boiled leather she wore fit tight against her body, accentuating the curves that had been hidden beneath the cloak she’d removed earlier. Her deep, olive complexion glistened, enhanced by the warm glow of the pit. Wosen swallowed hard, trying desperately to calm the excitement she aroused in him. Even amongst the fierce giants, her beauty was unmistakable, possibly even enhanced in contrast to the huge men. He pondered how she came to be among them, and what they would do with him.
“I’ll tend your wounds soon. After, you can tell us why you were in irons and fleeing the Nazilians,” she said, noticing his stare. “Firstly, would you like something to eat?” She handed him a platter of fish, and a cup of dark liquid. Wosen thanked her, attempting to eat slowly, but his hunger wouldn’t allow.
Arinak’s laugh nearly shook the cave. “He eats as you, Sarroh. Never stopping to chew.”
“Pardons. I haven’t eaten in several suns.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” she said. “When I arrived here long ago, it was much the same.”
“Where are you from?”
“We’ll speak about that later. For now, introductions are in order.” She pointed. “Seated nearest you is Arinak. He’s the Zraidyr, or leader of the ones you know as Dessalonians.”
“So, it is true. What my old mum said, all of it is true.”
“If you’re speaking about the myth of great giants dwelling in the mountains, yes. These are they.” She smiled, continuing. “Next to Arinak is Baldon, then there’s Brukin, Tzadok, Sarroh, Gavriel, and Michau.”
The men nodded respectively, causing the chains attached to their faces to rattle. In the entirety of his life, he’d never seen anything or anyone like the giants. The tales didn’t mention their ominous appearance: the hooded, violet eyes, triangular irises, a raised crest am
idst their brow, and their pierced faces. His head cocked, following the path of the heavy chains from the giant’s ears to their noses, wondering at the significance.
He continued his appraisal, marveling at their size. One of their arms would be the same as ten or more of his. Even their powerful legs looked to be thicker than his entire body, with hulking muscles bulging beneath their leathers.
“Forgive me,” Wosen stammered. “I didn’t mean to give offense. My—my name is Wosen. Wosen Neufmarche. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Yes, Wosen Neufmarche,” Gavriel said. “It’s good you’re friend and not enemy.”
Michau chuckled. “Náelon won’t be happy. She wanted to feast upon him.”
They all joined in his mirth as Wosen’s faced paled. When he met the woman’s eyes, she smiled broadly. “Náelon is the Desu Beast who brought you here,” she said, resting a hand on Wosen’s shoulder. “They jest. The Desu Beasts don’t have a taste for human flesh. They look fierce, but they’re quite gentle…just like the Dessalonians.”
Arinak filled a barrel with water from the falls, setting it on the floor near Wosen. “If you have thirst, drink,” he said, handing him the cup. In Wosen’s hands, it appeared more like a large pot. He dipped it into the barrel and drank down the iced water, smiling through missing teeth. “It’s sweet.”
“All things blessed by the Guardians are,” Arinak said.
“Do the Guardians still bless you?” Wosen asked.
Tzadok turned, the protruding hoods over his eyes wrinkling. “The Guardians, no matter what form, will always bless those in these lands, even ones as us.”
“Is it true? Did you truly attempt to rule the lands?”
Brukin stood, advancing on him quickly. Wosen cowered, throwing his hand up to protect himself from the hulking giant.
“You speak much for one so small. Mayhaps respect isn’t taught in Bandari, but we’ll have it here.”
[17]“R’ryn Sha’low, Brukin,” Arinak said in the arcane Mehlonii language. “We can’t be quick to anger. He speaks true, and the fault belongs to us. We’d dwell amongst the divine if we hadn’t allowed the corruption of the lands to inveigle us. The manipulations of the wraith and Z’brachieyn shouldn’t have been able to penetrate our minds and hearts. It was our weakness and failure, not Wosen’s mention of it.”
The Rise of Nazil Page 60