“Then I still have a lot to learn. Unlike you, I’ve been wed less than a sun.”
Julaybeim chuckled, nudging him forward.
“Wosen,” Pentanimir said, exiting the hall with Danimore. “Hosdaq said he informed you about our training.”
“Yes. Julaybeim and I are heading there now. Will it just be us four?”
“No, everyone going to Nazil will need to train. Your father and Drah’kuu Kuhani will assist with drills and technique. Come, the others will be waiting.”
Wosen swallowed hard. He’d already experienced Thalassa’s prowess when they sparred in the mountains. His face flushed, fearing that she’d tell everyone how badly she’d bested him. Thalassa was so petite: barely three and a half cubits and weighing no more than seven and a half stones. He’d thought for sure that he could win a match against her. But living with the Protectors had made her strong, and he didn’t want to face her again.
When they arrived at the clearing, the others were already hard at work. They paused, watching as Thalassa and Temian practiced. Pentanimir crossed his arms over his chest, observing their prowess.
Thalassa had donned her boiled leather and the half-helm given to her by the Protectors. The metal leaves dangling from her headpiece chimed with her fluid movements.
Temian’s prowess surprised them. He deftly blocked his sister’s advances, pushing her back with his blunted sword. She swirled from his reach, initiating a backward somersault, and tossing her buckler aside. Drawing her second sword, she assumed a defensive crouch. The technique had served her well sparring with the Protectors. Her small frame, speed, and agility gave her an advantage over the giant men.
Thalassa sprang up, whirling toward her brother. Temian’s eyes bulged, watching the swirling blades, and raising his shield to block. Anticipating the move, Thalassa dipped, side-sliding, and catching him in the ribs with the hilt of her sword. When he grabbed at the wound, she kicked high, sending his shield flying from his hand. As he turned, moving his sword up to block, she swiped her right hand up, forcing his sword high while her left hand came around, contacting his wounded ribs.
Temian grimaced, giving ground. Before he could assume a defensive posture, she roared again, spinning toward him. He blocked one thrust, but paid for it with a foot in his chest. When he stumbled backward, Thalassa crossed her blades, wrenching the sword away and launching it behind her. In a blur, she leapt forward, crossing both blades beneath his chin.
“You’ve lost your head, Brother,” she teased.
Temian raised up his hands, inclining his head. The match was hers.
They turned as Pentanimir began clapping. Thalassa replaced her swords, grabbing a cloth from the bench.
“Your skill is impressive, Sister. Many Chosen of Nazil don’t have half of your prowess.”
“Thank you, Pentanimir. When you spar with the Protectors, an ordinary man doesn’t present much of a challenge,” she jested, smiling at Temian.
“It’s been nearly four seasons since I’ve trained,” he said, removing his vest and inspecting the ripe bruise she’d given him. “I’ll give you a greater challenge once I’ve loosened up and practiced more.”
“Father trained you well,” Pentanimir said. “Had I known, Brother, we could’ve sparred together.”
Temian smiled. “Both he and Father Urdan were insistent. I relished our time in the sparring chamber after I came to Nazil. Mayhaps we can do the same once our duty is complete.”
“We’ll do that and more.”
“Indeed,” Danimore said. “The Protectors trained you, Thalassa?”
“Aye. Not only the sword, with many weapons and fighting techniques,” she said, removing her whip, urumi, and daggers. “In the mountains, there was little to do but eat, pray, and train. They made sure that I’d be able to protect myself. Arinak was a father to me, and relentless with martial and weapons training. I have the scars and memory of broken limbs to prove it.” She chuckled, wiping sweat from her face and chest.
“There won’t be much we can teach you after such brutal training,” Pentanimir said. “But I’m certain that there’s much you could teach us.”
“I’m honored to help in any manner that I can.” She grinned, looking at Wosen. “Wosen is already one lesson ahead. We had the pleasure of training in the mountains. It was…interesting, was it not?”
He blushed. “That it was, and painful if I recall.”
“Pain?” Hosdaq said, entering the clearing. “No one will know the meaning of pain until this day is at an end. The time to train is short, and you’ll be ready.”
Kuhani inclined his head, setting an assortment of swords and shields on the long bench. When he noticed Thalassa’s weapons, he stepped forward, lifting the urumi in the air.
[40]“Mahn Suok bahtraana k’ahndelae urumi, m’eloahnte tak Arinak?” Kuhani asked, admiring the flexible sword.
Thalassa smiled, offering a low bow. [41]“Amelyko sorhnye rahymed Guardian’s r’rabeda? Zla treohndae, Drah’kuu Kuhani. Za mahn potryoineh unced tryl keynzah.”
[42]“Lea’aah lohnz Za,” he said, returning her bow. “K’ahndelae AvHotther godeage suok vizu.”
Thalassa’s smile broadened, approaching Kuhani and then rested a hand over his heart. “He has, but my prowess is lacking compared to the Jasiri.”
Kuhani merely nodded, returning the gesture.
“Jasiri?” Pentanimir asked, eyeing them curiously.
“Warriors with a like heart,” Hosdaq said, quickly, as Kuhani stepped away. “The boiled leather is fine for sparring, Thalassa, but you’ll want chainmail and armor before leaving for Nazil. Their archers are fierce, and the poison arrows will easily pierce the leather.”
“Yes, the AsZar is providing liveries from Afferea. However, the Nazilian’s weapons won’t be the only ones with poison. The Protectors harvest a deadlier substance from the tails of their beasts. My swords will drip with it as well as our arrows.”
Julaybeim’s head cocked in confusion. “What if you’re struck with your own blade? Won’t the poison kill you, too?”
“No, the Protectors and I ingest it daily. Even Wosen has partaken, but he didn’t know.”
“Me? You didn’t give me anything like that.”
“Don’t you recall the sweet, dark liquid you drank upon your arrival? Each day after, you partook of the same. This was the poison of the beasts…their nectar. It was needed to help you heal and remain strong.”
“You fed me poison?”
“Yes, and you commented on how much you enjoyed the taste.” She winked. “We didn’t know how long that you’d be with us. There’re medicinal purposes to it as well. The healing properties of the nectar are found nowhere else in all the lands. The beasts are of the Guardians, Wosen, no harm will come from them.”
“You’ll have time to explain more to them later, Thalassa,” Kuhani said. “For now, we must ready both your bodies and mind for what lies ahead.” Kuhani gestured to the bench, nodding to Hosdaq.
“Firstly, we’ll match you and see how you fight. Studying your technique will help us determine your skill and know how we can help you master it. Meditation will follow,” Hosdaq said. “Thalassa and Pentanimir, Temian and Danimore, and Wosen and Julaybeim. Choose your sword and your shield.”
After selecting their weapons, they assumed their positions and fighting stance. When Hosdaq dropped his hand, the sparring began. Thalassa and Pentanimir were well matched as they traded lunges and parries. Pentanimir’s dance seemed well rehearsed and flawless, while Thalassa’s agility and speed sometimes gave her the advantage.
“Keep your muscles loose and regulate your breathing. Wosen, study Julaybeim’s movements and learn when he’s coming in to attack and counter it. Your movements are sluggish. Extend your sword toward him, not your arm,” Hosdaq shouted.
Wosen struggled against Julaybeim as they continued their assessment.
“Keep your opponent on point and be ready to anticipate and counter his stri
ke. Your physical prowess is secondary to that of your mind. Envision your victory and then achieve it,” Kuhani said. “Your footing and proper placement are key for balance. Find your flow and control it.”
“Gods!” Wosen said, thudding to the ground. Julaybeim stood over him with the point of his sword at his throat. When he raised a hand, Julaybeim extended out his arm, pulling him up.
“Wosen, you must improve your stance. Balance is key,” Hosdaq said, reaching for his sword. “Keep your feet apart and have them ready to move with the flow of your hands, not against it. Balance. Don’t just lunge at your opponent; study them, and be ready to move against them. Like this. Come at me, Julaybeim.”
When he thrusted forward, Hosdaq easily batted his sword away, and then used his foot to throw him off balance. Julaybeim regarded him differently, advancing again with his sword high. Hosdaq nearly grinned, noticing Julaybeim’s shifting foot. He raised his sword as if to parry, then side-stepped when Julaybeim reversed his momentum, attempting a sideswipe. Hosdaq anticipated the feint, thrusting his sword against his, forcing it out wide, then swiftly spun sideward to dodge. Before Julaybeim could counter, Hosdaq shoved him hard, forcing him off balance again. He was surprised, feeling Hosdaq’s sword at his neck and the ease of his defeat.
“You see, with practice, it’ll become as second nature,” Hosdaq said, handing the sword back to Wosen. “Again!”
They continued training until the sun began to set, only taking short breaks to rest and refresh. As they returned to the encampment, they nursed their fresh bruises, but all of them would return at the sun’s rise. Kuhani merely inclined his head, walking back toward the clearing.
Pentanimir draped an arm over Danimore’s shoulder as he limped toward the eternal fire. He grimaced, rubbing the raised bruise on his chin.
“Dani, your movement was stiff, elsewise, Temian wouldn’t have been able to catch you with his shield. Mayhaps your constant bonding has weakened you, Brother.” Pentanimir laughed aloud. “Zeta is small, but her appetite seems large.”
Danimore’s face reddened. “I’ll be certain to rest this night. Not even her closeness could stir me.”
“You grow older than your years, Dani,” Julaybeim said. “My wife’s closeness serves to strengthen me. On the morrow, I’ll be fiercer than this day,” he said, flexing his muscle.
Thalassa chuckled, shaking her head. “No doubt because you leave all of the work to your wife, Julaybeim. By the sounds of your squeals each night, it appears like she’s the one possessing the strength and control.”
They roared with laughter as Julaybeim’s face flushed, unable to suppress his own mirth.
“She speaks true, Julaybeim. Mayhaps you should take your shelter further away from the camp. Those of us who sleep beneath the stars can barely rest with your constant shrieks. Only two suns past, I thought to come and ensure you weren’t being attacked by some fierce creature,” Temian jested, slapping him on the back.
“Even so, I’ll be ready to face you on the morrow. My wife’s closeness won’t hinder how I wield my sword.”
“Nor will it let me rest!” Temian shot back.
“All right, enough,” Hosdaq said. “The training went well, but you’re far from ready. Thalassa will spar with Julaybeim on the morrow, and we’ll put his words to the test. Now, go and enjoy the evening meal. After which, rest well. You’ll need it.”
“Yes, Elder,” they said, moving off toward the hall.
Hosdaq rested an arm over Wosen’s shoulder, walking toward his shelter.
“You did well, Wosen, don’t be discouraged. It’ll take time to learn and apply these techniques.”
“I spent more time on the ground than on my feet. How am I supposed to defeat the Nazilians if I can’t even defend against Julaybeim?”
“It’ll come. Just give it time.”
“Father, there isn’t time. We’re riding to Nazil soon, and…and I won’t be able to assist them. I’m nothing but a liability.”
Hosdaq’s guilt was overwhelming as he met his son’s eyes. Had he trained Wosen when he was of age, no one could’ve stood against him. He’d never allowed his own skills to wane, practicing endlessly with Kuhani and Nurul. Yet, he let his fear keep him from properly training his son.
“Wosen, you aren’t a liability. The Guardians wouldn’t have asked for your assistance if they didn’t believe in your abilities. They know what lies within your heart, just as I do.”
“Mayhaps I should use the bow. That’s truly where my strength lies. On the back of a Desu Beast, my arrows could make a difference.” He looked down. “You were right, Father. I should’ve listened to you in Bandari. The bow is extremely important, and one of us needs to wield one.”
Hosdaq gripped his shoulder, causing him to face him. “We were both right, Wosen. I’m guilty of not hearing your words as much as you were deaf to mine. That’s no longer the case, and we’ll do this together. Your skill as an archer will be an asset when you take the city. You’re the best bowman that I’ve known.”
“But if I take up the bow, we’ll be less a sword on the ground.”
Hosdaq shook his head, pulling him into a hug. “No, you won’t. I’m riding to Nazil with you.”
Dark Chamber
Muffled screams and loud grunts filled the corridor as the two men descended the steep, narrow stairs. Daracus’ brow furrowed, glancing at Yannick when the noises grew louder.
“I thought you told them to stay their hands, Yannick?”
“Indeed, they were given very specific commands. No one will beat or seriously injure him until you order them to do so.”
As they rounded the corner, Daracus stopped. His eyes were fixed on the trussed and hooded man bent over in the corner.
“However, I did tell them that they could have a go at his arse,” Yannick said. “I was certain that you wouldn’t mind, my lord. Given his offense, I thought that this was a necessary experience and one he wouldn’t soon forget.”
Daracus grinned, stepping closer. His eyes danced at the sight and smell in the room. Beilzen struggled against the much larger guard, bending him over the table.
“Who has yet to have a go?” Yannick asked.
“Ladir is the last, Sir Merrimont.”
A loud roar of pleasure claimed their attention as Ladir held Beilzen tight, lifting him from the ground. His loose limbs flailed in the air, as he released a nearly unending scream, feeling his insides give way to the force. With a final moan, Ladir shoved Beilzen onto the floor. He crumpled in a heap, convulsing, while cries and whimpers escaped his lips.
“I was the last because my cock stood thicker and longer than any other. I should’ve been the first.” Ladir’s voice boomed as he wiped away the wetness, lacing his trousers.
Daracus’ eyes didn’t leave Ladir’s manhood until he’d tucked it away.
“Impressive indeed, Ladir. Had I only known,” Daracus said in a joking, yet serious tone.
“Zaxson! I—I didn’t mean to offend. Our orders were to—”
Daracus waved dismissively with one hand, while calming his member with the other. “You’ve committed no offense. Sir Merrimont’s orders mirrored my own. Now, pick up that filth and secure him to the wall.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Beilzen continued to cry and moan as they forced his hands and feet far apart, fettering him to the wall. Foul-smelling refuse secreted from his arse onto the earthen floor as his slight, naked frame shuddered with both fear and pain, straining against the pull of the heavy manacles.
“You should remember this chamber, Beilzen,” Daracus said. “Were you not present when the savage once stood where you do now?”
“Please, please, I didn’t mean to. I was only doing as I was commanded. I couldn’t refuse. Please, my lord, have mercy,” Beilzen cried through the stained hood covering his head.
“Mercy? Is this what you offered my poor sister? Mercy.”
“Sir, I only did what she commanded. Ask her, pleas
e.”
Daracus glanced at the guards, not wanting them to learn about Denotra. “Are the pinchers and tools in the fire?”
“They are, my lord.”
“Good, fill two pails with water and resume your duties. Only Sir Merrimont will remain.”
Once the three men were alone, Daracus took the tip of his dirk, sliding the dark covering from Beilzen’s head.
“You know, some feel that removing senses from a man increases his fear. Perceptual isolation is how I think the honorable Sir Benoist referred to it. Is that correct, Sir Merrimont?”
“Aye, I believe it is, Zaxson.”
“Yes, so, as I was saying…some feel that if you deliberately reduce or remove one or more of the senses, panic and fear will take hold. Therefore, if I kept your eyes covered, forcing you to follow only my sound, I could increase your terror and panic. What do you think of such theories, Beilzen?” Daracus asked, pacing in front of him.
“Please, Zaxson,” Beilzen pleaded. “I’ve served Nazil with honor. Your father—”
“IS DEAD,” Daracus screamed, clutching Beilzen’s throat. “If I have to remind one more person of this, they’ll lose their tongue,” he snarled, shoving him away.
“Now, where was I? Oh yes, fear,” he said calmly, smoothing his neat shoulder-length hair. “It takes a unique skill set to have the patience for such endeavors. Me, I’d rather watch you suffer while looking into your eyes. Seeing the fear within a man…that’s what excites me, not allowing you to hide behind some sack.
“Sir Merrimont, my fair sister told a sorrowful tale recently. She lies abed still this day, due to her ill treatment. Now, I could simply kill the one who committed such an egregious offense, or I could grant him the opportunity to explain everything to me. Offer his side of things, if you will.”
“It’s a difficult choice, my lord. I’m not certain which I’d choose if the decision were mine,” Yannick said, thoughtfully stroking his chin.
The Rise of Nazil Page 76