Inclining his head, Jahno begun brushing Daracus hair. The scent of his assault still lingered in the air, and the taste soured his stomach. He’d been in service to the citadel since Daracus abducted him from Noraa. Unlike some, Jahno’s father could afford the ransom, but it was never sought. Daracus had desired him since first they met in Jahno’s father’s curio shop. If he’d known then of his true desires, Jahno would’ve left his family for another village, any village to be free from such torture. Although most of the physical pain of his abuse subsided, the mental anguish was forever mounting. That could change in an instant, and he shuddered then, recalling his injuries from such encounters.
“Would you like a cloak as well?” Jahno asked, forcing the painful thoughts from his mind.
“What I want is you, but I’m needed elsewhere,” Daracus said, standing and placing a pellet beneath his tongue. “When you attend your duties, remove the olives from the table. Father isn’t here, and I can’t stand the smell of them.”
After he’d gone, Jahno ran to his chamber pot and retched. He wiped the taste of Daracus from his mouth, splashing some cool water on his face. How much more of him must I endure?
The councilmembers stood and bowed as Daracus entered the hall. After taking his father’s seat, Jahno came into the room, removing the olives and replacing them with dates.
“Where’s my sister?”
“We’ve sent Micah to fetch her, my lord,” Reaglen said. “She should be joining us shortly.”
“My lord,” Bisdan said. “We’ve received a bird from Leahcim.”
“Tell me of it then. Did birds arrive from Kaleo or Cazaal?” Daracus asked.
“Kaleo has been defeated, and Cazaal is much the same. Erandi and Gudrun are en route now. There still isn’t any word from Pentanimir.” He paused, grief covering his visage. “We learned some distressing news, however, Sir Pentanimir’s uncle died with honor in Cazaal.”
“Oxilon has fallen?”
“He has, my lord, and all of Nazil will mourn such a loss.”
“My father as well,” Daracus said. “Sir Benoist served our house and Nazil with great honor. What about the human whore? Is she amongst the captives?”
Reaglen shook his head. “There’ve been no definitive reports. From the news thus far, she wasn’t in Cazaal.”
“What? Her capture should’ve been guaranteed. Didn’t they report that she was heavy with child?”
“Indeed,” Reaglen said. “She could’ve taken leave before the attack. It wouldn’t be the first time that spies have warned of our maneuvers. There’re yet places in Faélondul that our hands don’t reach.”
“You speak true,” Beilzen said, signaling for more wine. “That’s why the Zaxson is wise to expand our reach. There shouldn’t be any place in Faélondul that Nazil can’t touch.”
Daracus stared at Beilzen and then glanced around the room. “Agreed, but I don’t recall your appointment to this council.”
“No, my lord. I’m here merely at your sister’s behest. She extended the invitation before we knew of your arrival. Our lady didn’t wish to sup alone.”
“I see. Well, it’s appreciated that you’d comfort my sister at such a time as this. Then again, you’ve always acquiesced to Denotra’s commands with great alacrity, haven’t you?”
Before he could respond, the guards opened the doors, escorting Denotra in. As she stepped toward the table, Beilzen rushed to her side, pulling out a chair.
“You’re lovelier now than when last I saw you, my lady,” Beilzen said.
“Ah, Sister, we were just speaking of you.”
“Forgive my tardiness,” she said. “My stomach has been a bit disagreeable.”
“Are you all right?” Daracus asked.
“It’s merely the excitement of your return and my concern for Father and Pentanimir. It’ll pass.”
“Yes, we spoke about that as well,” Daracus said. “A bird arrived not long ago with word of Kaleo and Cazaal.”
“Did it mention Pentanimir?”
He shook his head, reaching for her hand. “Not yet. It told of our victory and unfortunately, his uncle’s honorable death.”
“Sir Oxilon? Gods, Pentanimir will be grief-stricken. He and his uncle were very close.”
Beilzen scoffed. When he noticed the council regard him, he cleared his throat, taking a drink of wine. “Pardons. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Denotra’s eyes rolled, shifting away from him. “If not Pentanimir, who sent the message?”
“My lady,” Reaglen started. “Erandi sent word from Leahcim before he and Gudrun left for Nazil.”
“Then, who sent word of Cazaal? If Oxilon has fallen and no one has heard from Pentanimir, who made the report?”
“Sir Garin,” Reaglen said, handing her the scroll.
When she reached out for it, she lurched sideward, expelling a heavy cough. Her face scrunched, as she clutched her stomach, turning away from the table.
“Are you certain that you’re well?” Daracus asked.
“Yes, Brother. I—I’m fine.”
“Lord Daracus,” Beilzen said. “With the battle nearly at an end, will you start preparations for Lady Denotra’s pledge? Well, upon your honorable father’s and Pentanimir’s return, of course.”
“That’s Denotra’s wish. Why do you ask of it?”
“Our lady and I spoke at length about it before your return,” he smirked. “She much desires the company of her pledged.”
Daracus peered at him warily. “And she shall have it.”
Denotra glared at Beilzen until her cough returned. Covering her mouth, she turned away again, continuing to cough. When she moved the cloth away, her eyes widened, staring down at the blood staining it.
“My lady!” Bisdan said, pushing up from the table.
“Surma, fetch the healer immediately,” Daracus ordered, rushing to her side.
Beilzen’s breath caught in his throat as he backed away from the table, staring at her thrashing in Daracus’ arms.
“Denotra…gods…Sister, look at me.”
Grasping her throat, Denotra struggled for air as her face darkened from the lack of it. With widening eyes, her hands grappled at Daracus, grasping and pulling him down to her. She tried to speak, but a raw, guttural scream echoed throughout the chamber before she gagged again, panting for air. Denotra sucked in a hard breath, shooting up from her chair, only to plummet backward to the floor.
“Sister,” he shouted, cradling her in his arms. Denotra continued to thrash, with blackening veins protruding beneath her pallid flesh.
“What’s happened,” Arilian said, entering the room. “Lady Denotra!”
“You must help her, Arilian. Help my sister.”
“We must get her to her chamber,” Arilian said. “She’s burning with fever…I must tend her immediately.”
Daracus motioned to the guards, and they lifted her up, hurrying down the corridor. His frantic eyes darted around, unable to calm his thoughts. Pulling the pouch from his pocket, he grabbed some pellets, swallowing them whole.
“Jah—Jahno, fetch Ceron and Leanta,” Daracus said, continuing his run. “Make haste,” he said, rounding the corner to Denotra’s room.
“Get out! All of you get out of here!” Daracus ordered the guards, as he stared at Denotra screaming and writhing on the bed.
They hurried from the chamber, nearly knocking Ceron and Leanta over. When Daracus gripped Ceron’s arm, she yelped, being dragged across the room.
“What happened to my sister?” he commanded, pointing over at the bed. Ceron’s face blanched, fearing not only the look in Daracus’ eyes, but the condition of his sister.
Daracus snarled, landing a hard punch that sent Ceron crashing to the floor.
“You’re her damn slave! Tell me what happened or you’ll face more than Symeon’s cock! Every horse in the stable will have a go!”
Ceron struggled to rise, holding her swelling face. “Her—her blood,” she nearl
y cried. “When—when she got back from the temple, she said her blood came early and felt sick from it. We fetched Hushar as—as she commanded and left them be.”
“Hushar?” Daracus said. “She was here when I returned. Why didn’t Denotra send for Arilian?”
“I didn’t question, milord. I only did as milady said. We filled the tub and left her be.”
Daracus glared over at Leanta and she nodded.
“Get out of here, the both of you.”
“What’s wrong with her, Arilian? You must help her,” Daracus said when they were alone.
“I’ll do all I can, my lord, but I need to examine her to be certain. I’ve never seen an illness take hold so quickly. The tonic has calmed the coughing, and will help her rest. With your permission, I need to check her womanhood. If her blood has come, I’ll learn of it.”
“Do what you must, just make her well.”
Daracus turned as Arilian began his examination. After removing her garments, he dipped his hands in the basin. As he brought the lantern near, he gasped, nearly dropping it on the bed.
“What is it, Arilian? What in hells is wrong with you?”
Clasping a hand over his mouth, he shook his head, gazing back down at Denotra. As he set the lantern back on the table, he noticed the small ewer sitting there.
“Answer me, Arilian!”
“My lord. I—I—don’t believe that it was merely your sister’s time. Mayhaps you should look for yourself.”
“She’s my sister,” Daracus said, disgusted.
“Yes, but this is something you must see, my lord. Please, I pray you come quickly.”
Daracus’ jaw tightened, apprehensively peering between her legs. “What in seven hells is this? What happened to her?”
“Lord Daracus, your sister, Lady Denotra, she wasn’t, I mean, she’s no longer maiden. She—”
“Liar! How dare you befoul my family’s name!”
“Forgive me,” he said, pulling up the blankets and pointing to the ewer.
“I—I didn’t intend to offend or imply things that aren’t. Mayhaps your sister fell and—and hurt herself. This could explain the bruising, swelling, and early blood. Yes, she fell, my lord. But the ewer, who brought this?”
Daracus walked over to the table, inspecting the small bottle. As he gave it a shake, the liquid inside sloshed. “Tell me of the contents,” he demanded, thrusting it to Arilian.
Pulling the cork, he sniffed the mixture. With a curious look, Arilian dipped his finger inside, bringing it to his lips. “Hmmm…” he muttered, taking another taste. “There’s some helba, sumac, and kuzbarah mayhaps. There might be some lavender, too, judging by the smell.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means, Arilian?”
“No, my lord, pardons. This tincture is for pain and infection. Whoever left it did so in hopes of aiding your sister’s healing.”
“Hushar,” Daracus thought, tucking the covers around his sister.
“I want you to drink the mixture and prove that it’s safe, Arilian. After we’ve determined the contents, remain here with Denotra. Use whatever you need to make her well.”
“Yes, Nakshij. She’s resting now, but her breathing is still labored. I’ll mix a tincture for her, but without knowing the cause, I can only treat the symptoms.”
“Know this, old man: whatever happens to my sister will also happen to you. Drink the mixture and treat her as if your life depends upon it. In fact, it does,” he said, moving toward the door. When he paused, leering back at him, Arilian turned up the ewer.
Reunions, Bonds, and Duty
The melodious sound from the falls was soothing after the arduous trek through the wood. The memories of the battle still plagued Pentanimir, but Brahanu’s reaction to his retelling was even more painful.
He leaned against the stone bench, enjoying the peace that surrounded him. The burdens clouding his mind appeared to ease as he closed his eyes, allowing the music of the falls to wash over him.
His heart ached for Brahanu and the love that they shared. But his old wounds emerged as well with remembrances of his father and Crissu. Too many images, voices, and memories beset his mind. Now, with learning about his siblings, there was much for him to contemplate. Lost moments, seasons, years spent apart and unaware of his brothers and sister. A brother so close, and yet a world away. In retrospect, it appeared so clear. Pentanimir and Temian were nearly identical when standing alongside each other. It was obvious why Temian kept his distance from not only Oxilon, but him as well.
He sighed, offering a silent prayer. How he wished that the remembrances, dubiety, truths, pain, all of it would fade from memory. Here, in the Animus Wood, it could be so. At least, that was his prayer. Not truly to forget, but to be able to subsist, to find a peace, a happiness again that he once felt long ago. The weight he now carried was too much for one even as him, and he felt it consuming the vestiges of his soul.
“Pentanimir?”
He turned, smiling as the Elder approached.
“Pentanimir,” Olam said again, looking down at the babe he cradled in his arms.
He glanced at his sleeping son and then stood, facing Olam. “Tardison,” he said, holding the babe out to him. “He’s my son…mine and Brahanu’s.”
Olam’s brow furrowed, lifting Tardison from Pentanimir’s arms. “I know him,” Olam breathed. “Both you and he were in my vision.”
Pentanimir nodded, caressing Tardison’s thick curls. With the exception of Kuhani, Olam was the only one who truly knew his heart. He helped Pentanimir to see beyond logic, and learn more of faith, and what that truly meant.
“It’s good to see you again, Olam. When I learned about Wosen’s capture, I feared the worst for Bandari.”
“As did we. After getting your message, I received another vision. Have you had any other word of Wosen?”
Pentanimir sighed. “His fate is uncertain, Elder. If the gods are good, we’ll see him again.”
“That’s our prayer. With the lands at war, we can’t risk anyone leaving the safety of the wood.”
“You can’t, Elder, but I can.”
Olam looked at him curiously, handing Tardison back. “You? What about your son and Brahanu? Aren’t you remaining here with them?”
“No. Brahanu is mourning her husband and places his death on my shoulders.”
“I don’t believe that. From what we’ve heard about the battle, the contrary is true.”
He nodded. “I fought against my people in defense of hers, but that doesn’t matter. Itai’s fate remains the same, regardless of my actions.”
“Don’t confuse your feelings with Brahanu’s. I’ve known you long, First Chosen, and know your heart. You’re not capable of such an act,” Olam said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Brahanu knows the same. Now, what about your son? I saw Brahanu with another babe.”
“That was Eytan, Tardison’s twin.”
“A brother? The Guardians didn’t show me a twin, Pentanimir.”
“Eytan isn’t my son, but he shared Brahanu’s womb with Tardison.”
“What? How is such a thing possible?”
“Is anything impossible for the gods?” he said, wistfully.
“The gods and Guardians are good, Pentanimir. Her husband’s sacrifice didn’t go unnoticed or unrewarded,” Olam said, gesturing them forward. “Now, come, your brother has asked about a bonding ceremony.”
“Already?”
“He and Zeta did seem most eager.” Olam smiled. “We’ll rest here for one more sun. If they’d like the ceremony, we only need to speak with Kuhani. After all that has happened, it would be welcomed.”
“I haven’t seen the priest. Do you know where they’ve gone?”
“When you arrived, they’d gone to the furthest falls for cleansing and prayer. They’ll return for noon meal.”
Pentanimir shifted Tardison to his other shoulder as they entered the encampment.
“I’ll leave you to rest now, and alert y
ou when the priests return.”
“Thank you,” Pentanimir said, noticing Brahanu seated with Gali and Julaybeim. Every part of him longed to be with her, but he sat with Danimore and Zeta instead.
“Don’t worry,” Danimore said. “She desires it as well. I’ve seen her watching your movements the same as you. Give it time.”
Pentanimir offered the best smile that he could manage. “Elder Olam mentioned a bonding ceremony.”
“Yes, we spoke with the Elder Vot about it earlier. Seeing the people of this village gives us hope.”
“I’m pleased that you have each other, Dani, both of you deserve such happiness.”
“As do you, Pentanimir,” Zeta said. “Brahanu loves you, but Itai’s death won’t allow her to show it. Her heart was split between you, and now, half of it has withered. Give her time and she’ll again be yours.”
“Brahanu was never truly mine. Her heart always belonged to him. It was for the briefest of moments that she permitted me to become a part of it.”
As he finished, Gali was approaching, leading Julaybeim behind her. His expression was both aggrieved and trepidatious as she released his hand, and he met Pentanimir’s eyes. Although Julaybeim had apologized for his recent behavior, he still felt uncertain of how to approach him.
“Pentanimir, you should speak with Brahanu. She—she needs you with her.”
“Need? I doubt those are her words.”
“They are,” Gali said. “Her guilt and her love confuse her heart. Brahanu doesn’t want to betray the memory of her husband by showing her love for you. But it’s there, Pentanimir, and she needs you more than you know.”
Pentanimir was hesitant, but pushed up to his feet in spite of it. As he moved to where she sat, Hosdaq was arriving.
“Pentanimir, we’re glad that you made it safely,” Hosdaq said, embracing him.
“I’m pleased as well, Elder. All of Faélondul is at war, and too few of us are free from it.”
“I yearn for my son, Pentanimir, yet I’m ashamed as well. His actions caused this to be, and there’s nothing I can do to right it.”
“Don’t be like me, Elder. Don’t carry such weight upon your shoulders. Wosen was merely the catalyst for what Draizeyn had already devised.”
The Rise of Nazil Page 65