Yannick’s mouth twitched up in a grin. “I’m honored, my lord.” He bowed. “I only hope to serve as well as Sir Benoist and his father before him.”
“You’ve always served with honor, Yannick. Had it not been for my grandfather’s affinity for Manifir Benoist, the position of First Chosen and the pledge would’ve been yours.”
Yannick inclined his head, knowing his words were meant to flatter. Regardless of his recent dissension with Pentanimir, he wasn’t ignorant of the truth.
“You’re too kind, Zaxson. However, Pentanimir earned his position as First Chosen. He defeated all challengers at the tourneys and in single combat. No one could stand against him, and his martial prowess was unmatched. This, I know. I was among those who made the attempt.”
“Well, if our former First Chosen has fallen, there’s at least one person who could defeat the undefeatable.”
“As you say, Zaxson. Pentanimir isn’t one easily beaten. He could still return to the city victorious. We won’t know for certain until we do. For now, we must focus on events of greater importance. After the entombment of your honorable father and sister, your coronation will soon follow. Then, I’ll take our most notable slaves to the dark chamber and interrogate them thoroughly. One might have information regarding the Benoists.”
“They haven’t been questioned?”
“Yes, Sir, they have. But those questions weren’t put to them by me.”
“You’ll make a fine First Chosen, indeed, Sir Merrimont. If Sir Benoist yet lives, mayhaps he’ll serve as my Nakshij. With the two of you at my side, Nazil will stand greater than ever it has.”
Before Yannick could respond, the chants from outside claimed their attention, continuing to build. Daracus moved closer to the doors, listening to his name intoned by his people.
“Where are the Cha?” he asked, straightening his hair. “They’re supposed to join me on the balcony.”
“My lord, they were offering prayers for you and Nazil’s future. They were merely steps behind as we approached.”
Daracus turned, scrutinizing the man. “Ah, yes. Thank you, Sir… Sir…”
“Middleton, my lord, son of Ayers.” Nakaris bowed.
“Yes, of course. You’re new to the Chosen. Weren’t you a city guard before the battles?”
“I was, Zaxson. It was by your word that I gained my promotion. I captured the Caretaker of Noraa.”
“Yes, your father was a Chosen, too. I remember him fondly.”
“Thank you, it was his honor and mine to serve Nazil.”
“Pardons, Zaxson,” Reaglen said, bowing as they entered.
“You keep the people of our great city waiting, priests.”
“Forgive us, Zaxson. It’s due to the people that we fell behind. Many are fearful and uncertain about Nazil’s future. We know with your words that those fears will be eased, and they’ll see Nazil has a strong leader.”
“They will, indeed, Lymbach,” Daracus said, moving off. “Let us hope that you haven’t wounded Ceron and Leanta beyond Hushar’s skill to mend. Slaves are scarce in the city, Cha, and the abuse they sustain during your purge is ever mounting. I’m certain that while you were offering your prayers, that you satisfied your cock and not your fists,” Daracus spat, pejoratively.
Lymbach’s face reddened, tucking his spotted, wrinkled hands in his sleeves. “The—the slaves are needed to stave off the fleshly desires, Zaxson. This day is of great importance, and we—we needed to clear our minds to hear the will of the Four.”
“I see,” Daracus said, disgusted. “Send forth the heralds.”
The men moved to the balcony with their horns as Daracus focused his attention on the guard.
“Sir Merrimont, you’ll be on my right and Sir Middleton on my left. Cha, take position at each side of me and a step back from the Chosen. The people will want to see you, but not before those wielding true power. The rest of the guard will take their place behind you. This will give the people a proper image of the force leading this great city.”
They nodded as the roars from the crowd erupted from outside. Daracus turned toward the balcony while the heralds returned. After taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the balcony.
Immediate shouts erupted from the crowd, causing his smile to widen. Daracus raised a hand to silence his people as their praise further stoked his vanity and fueled his hungry ego. No longer in the shadow of his father, he began to speak.
“My honorable people of Nazil. I come to stand before you now as a beacon, a new leader of our great people.” He started in a high, stentorian voice. “There are those in these lands that would see us fall from our greatness, to lapse into memory, and be trampled by subjugation. I stand before you now and say that we are of Nazil. No others in these lands can make such a prestigious claim. We’ve earned the right to rule, and to squeeze the throats of those beneath us.”
The people cheered, fists went up into the air, the name Daracus on their lips. The Zaxson’s adrenaline soared, feeling the exuberance of the crowd.
“The people of these lands envy what we’ve become, they covet what we’ve earned, what we’ve conquered. Together, with the sorcery in the wood, they attempt to purloin what rightly belongs to you, to usurp what was obtained through your blood and sacrifices…what my father and yours have fought for, and bled for, with honor and courage.
“I say here this day, we’ll stand and fight against the tyranny of those not of our heritage. We’ll rise above the hatred of those we’ve shown kindness. It’s by our grace that these savages have been allowed to remain. Now, they take this kindness as weakness. We’ll show them all the true heart of Nazil. They’ll learn a lesson that in ten generations will still be fresh on the tongues of those who come after them.
“My father, the honorable Draizeyn Deaglan Vereux, was viciously executed by the pythonesses in the wood. But do not mourn, my good people. My father has taken his place among the honored dead, and this heinous crime won’t go unanswered. Anyone who stands against us shall be wiped from these lands. My father was a just leader and a fierce warrior. Only those with the blackest malevolence could silence such a powerful man. Yes, my fellow Nazilians, your former Zaxson, my father, was slaughtered by demon beasts and the pythonesses of the wood!”
Cries of mourning and disbelief filled the air as Daracus continued.
“These pythonesses sent threats to Nazil on the lips of slaves! A warning to you, and a threat to me. ‘Join the darkness and live, or stay within the light and perish.’ They’d see us bow to their darkness while snuffing out our light. I say to you now, never will this come to pass. I, Daracus Rhobert Vereux, will meet this threat with only the courage and resolve found in the heart of a Nazilian. Through me, Nazil will be great again. Always Nazil will stand! Always we’ll have dominion over these lands! The darkness of these pythonesses will not cover us. We reject that which they demand, and our light will forever remain and cover all the lands. We are people of honor, of courage, of power! We bow to no one. It is they who’ll bow to us! HONOR ABOVE ALL!”
Battle for Nazil
The crowd’s chanting was rising in pitch when the large shadows appeared overhead. The screeches of the Desu Beasts began drowning out the Zaxson’s words, causing the gathered group to search the skies. A crescendo of panicked shouts erupted when Arinak flew lower, and then climbed, disappearing into the blinding sun. Even the priests began to shield their eyes in an attempt to see what hovered above the white city.
Daracus was oblivious, delivering his speech even as those around him were becoming anxious. Exchanging a look, Yannick and Nakaris flanked the Zaxson in a protective stance. Yannick’s eyes darted back and forth, his thumb rubbing the hilt of his Xtabyren.
“Steady, Tzadok, steady,” Wosen said, drawing forth his bow. Small beads of sweat dotted his brow as Tzadok skillfully guided Jzardis toward the citadel. Taking a calming breath, Wosen checked his quivers again. “One, two, three, four,” he counted, ensuring his ammunition
was full.
“Bring me closer,” Wosen whispered, nocking an arrow while grasping a half dozen more in his draw hand.
Tzadok nodded. [52]“Nof’laeng, Jzardis,” he communicated extrasensorily to steady his beast. Jzardis screeched, diving, and gliding low over the crowd. Screams immediately erupted as the beast came into view.
With one fluid motion, Wosen released an arrow, rotated his wrist and nocked the next. When one of the Cha fell, Yannick grabbed the Zaxson, pushing him behind the others. The next arrow grazed Daracus’ shoulder, impaling a guard he’d passed.
The amethyst illumination of Arinak’s helm increased as he communicated with the Protectors. With a loud screech from Xandi, they simultaneously descended on the city.
Pentanimir memorized the guard’s locations while Baldon and Arinak circled the citadel. With a deafening roar, Baldon raised his double-edged axe, landing Náelon on the roof.
Dismounting Xandi, Arinak lowered Thalassa to the ground, and then spun around with a fearsome swing, launching the approaching guards from her path. Their bodies flew helplessly through the air, bones crushing and shattering beneath the weight of the blow. As they ran forward, the beasts took flight, jabbing at the guards on the ramparts with their venomous tails. Náelon released a chilling mist, slowing the guards, then swooped down, clutching them in her claws, only to drop them to their deaths.
The terrified Nazilians ran to their posts, clad only in the ceremonial dress for the occasion. Never before had anyone dared to launch an attack on Nazil.
The guards quickly took their place at the arrow loops, taking aim. Deadly bolts from the walls of the city and the citadel alike were let loose, but the beasts flew toward the light, blinding those who took aim at them.
Thalassa drew her twin blades as a horde of Nazilian guard came running toward her. When Arinak and Baldon came up behind, some of the men skittered to a stop, and then retreated. Baldon moved forward, heaving his huge axe at the advancing horde. He eviscerated and knocked groups of them from Thalassa’s path, their mangled bodies crashing against the unyielding citadel walls.
Danimore and Pentanimir ran through the door, descending the narrow passageway. When they reached the main floor, a phalanx of Chosen stood in their path. The ground trembled in their wake, signaling Brukin’s arrival. With nary enough space to pass, the massive Protector forced his way through, taking position in front of the brothers.
On the ground, Hosdaq, Temian, and Julaybeim rushed through the temple’s open door. “Out! All of you, out!” Temian shouted to the Nazilians and slaves taking refuge in the large structure. Confused screams filled the sanctuary when Sarroh entered, a resounding roar erupting from the pit of his stomach. The Nazilians and slaves ran for the exit, some tumbling to the ground as Sarroh’s heft caused the floor beneath them to tremble.
The warriors grabbed torches, running through and evacuating the temple. When Temian entered the Cha’s hall, he paused, lowering his torch to the cushioned seats and velvet curtains adorning the room. Within moments, the chamber engulfed in flames. Taking no time to inspect his work, he continued down the stone corridor to the crypts. Calls from Hosdaq and Julaybeim echoed above him as his torch ignited the tapestries and drapes lining the corridor and stairs.
Temian pushed open the crypt’s door, inspecting the chilly room. When his eyes swept over the crypt, he noticed the draped bodies on the berths. Sliding the shrouds from each, his eyes widened, staring down at both the Zaxson and his daughter.
Before his thoughts could clear, Hosdaq’s shouts claimed his attention. He lowered his torch, igniting the shrouds. Red and yellow embers burst from the torch as he allowed his hand to open, and it tumbled to the ground.
Drawing his Guardians’ blade from its scabbard, Temian took the stairs two at a time. The walls burned furiously as he made his way back to the sanctuary.
“The Zaxson and Denotra lie beneath,” he said, rejoining the others.
Hosdaq merely nodded, glancing around the burning temple. “We must move. The guard of Nazil awaits.”
The men raised their swords in response, running behind him.
Bedlam ensued when they exited the burning temple. The Protectors brutally laid waste to the vanguard of Nazilian soldiers forming ranks against them. Their beasts screeched from above, swooping down gracefully, grabbing guards with their claws and then lifting them into the clouds.
Charging into a horde of fighting forces, Julaybeim thrust ahead, impaling one guard and then immediately decapitating another. With a burning rage, he struck fiercely, delivering swift and mortal blows. With each swipe, he envisaged his parents and Itai, fueling his inexorable attack, spinning and slashing with preternatural precision.
The stench of death and smoke saturated the air with bodies littering the ground as the warriors pressed forward, plodding through the mire of blood from the slain and wounded. Hundreds of the Nazilians wavered, throwing their swords aside and retreating from the gruesome scene. Hosdaq held his sword at the ready, taking full measure of the guards.
“We must continue toward the citadel,” he called out to Temian and Julaybeim.
As he ran toward Gavriel, a thunderous eruption halted his advance. Peering up, Hosdaq’s face blanched, seeing Wosen’s perilous predicament.
Wosen’s eyes widened as the huge stone hurtled toward them. “Watch out!” he yelled, shouldering his bow and clutching Tzadok’s waist.
[53]“K’alondea, Jzardis! K’alondea!” Tzadok said aloud, a moment too late. With a great thud, the huge stone crashed against Jzardis’ unprotected hind leg. She screeched horribly, struggling to regain her flight.
“No,” Hosdaq said, rushing toward the citadel, slashing and stabbing all in his path. Julaybeim and Temian weren’t far behind, taking to the backs of the beasts.
“No! Wosen!” Hosdaq shouted again.
Wosen dangled from Jzardis’ back, as Tzadok reached for him, while trying to maintain his beast’s flight.
Wosen gripped his hand, only to lose his hold when Jzardis banked left, dodging a fusillade of arrows.
“Gods…No—” Wosen shouted, futilely grasping at the empty air as he plunged toward the citadel. Everything appeared to slow, except the visions pervading his mind. “No,” he whimpered, gazing up into the sun, before closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Blood spurted from his mouth as his body hit the stone with a sickening thud. A weak moan escaped his lips, his body convulsing before finally lying still.
“Hosdaq!” Temian called out from Ilka’s back. “You won’t make it. Help Julaybeim, I’ll go to Wosen.”
[54]“Baatheer!” Sarroh commanded, and Ilka took to the skies, her massive wings extending. The beast soared above the citadel, banking sharply before diving towards a contingent of guards, knocking them off the ramparts. Releasing her chilling mist, Sarroh guided Ilka low, allowing Temian to slide from her back.
Ilka’s redoubtable wings flapped, providing Temian cover, before she flew toward some fleeing guards, her bite impaling two while her claws slashed at the others.
Temian continued his run, Ilka’s shadow masking his swift approach. With a twirling swipe, he impaled one guard, delivering a high kick to another.
Wosen gagged, expelling a mass of mucus and blood. The stabbing pain that followed had him grasping his chest as he rolled sideward, desperately attempting to clear the haze encompassing his mind. Clenching his eyes, he grimaced, pushing up to his knees. The radiating pain increased, thrumming in his head with each pulse of his heart.
When Wosen focused ahead, he blinked repeatedly, noticing the onslaught of attacking guards. “Tem—Temian,” he breathed, searching his surroundings and grabbing up some fallen arrows. Ignoring the pain, Wosen staggered to his feet, nocking an arrow. For a moment, his vision doubled, the men appearing more as indistinct, coalescing shadows than men.
“Guardians guide my hands,” Wosen said, focusing forward again and releasing. One of the guards went down, squirming as the
heat of the poison inflamed his flesh. Rotating his wrist, Wosen continued firing until the guards lay writhing and dying at Temian’s feet.
“We—we must move,” Wosen slurred, nearly toppling as he gathered up his arrows and stumbled toward a small door.
“Are you all right?” Temian asked, steadying Wosen’s stance, and reaching for the handle, only to lurch back when two guards rushed through. Wosen cried out, plummeting back to the ground as Temian’s abrupt stop caused them to collide.
Dodging an oncoming swipe, Temian rolled, landing in a crouch, immediately parrying a blade a hair’s breadth from his face. He leapt up, side-sliding while swatting the second guard’s sword away. As he reversed his spin, he stomped the side of the guard’s knee, following with a spinning kick that sent the guard careening into the wall.
A glint in his periphery caused Temian to turn, meeting the first guard’s attack.
His eyes widened, recognizing the former Cha. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, traitor,” the guard sneered, drawing a dagger from its sheath. “Not before I have a bit of fun, though,” he said, lunging forward, causing Temian to give ground. Tossing a worried glance at Wosen, Temian met the guard’s eyes again.
“Maybe I’ll gut that savage first,” the man said, raising up his dagger.
“No,” Temian yelled, coming on in a fury. Kicking the guard’s dagger arm up, Temian half spun, coming around with his sword. When the guard staggered back, Temian brandished his shield, assuming a protective posture in front of Wosen.
“Ya got a sweet spot for that one, eh?” The guard said, circling around the two. He tapped his dagger against his sword, readying himself for a strike.
Temian wouldn’t give him the chance. Hearing another groan from Wosen, he straightened his stance, bringing his sword to the ready.
“Envision your victory and then achieve it.” Temian inhaled deeply, recalling Kuhani’s words. A calm covered him then, focusing on the guard.
[55]“Dijnay ein faeduhn,” Temian whispered as his feet glided from side to side, his body following in flawless harmony. When the guard momentarily lowered his eyes, Temian reversed, lunging toward his left side, plunging his blade deep within his ribcage. In a blur, he flipped backward, touching down lightly before planting his foot in the guard’s side, shoving him away from Wosen.
The Rise of Nazil Page 79