Diverse Epic Fantasy with a Grim dark EDGE
&
A touch of romance
SEED OF SCORN
©2016 Aaron-Michael Hall
All rights reserved.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below:
Xtabyren Publishing
P.O. Box 2586
McDonough, GA 30253
aaronmichaelhall.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Illustrator: Omupied
Editor: JB Lazarte
Editor: Morgan Smith
Hall, Aaron-Michael
First Edition
ISBN:
ISBN:
ISBN-13: 978-0692575376
LCCN: 2015919295
BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR
THE RISE OF NAZIL I
SEED OF SCORN II
PIERCING THE DARKNESS III
RITES OF HEIRDRON I
ORBS OF TRENIHGEA II
KURINTOR NYUSI
THE GUARDIANS’ RISE
TAMESA
UPCOMING RELEASES
KEEPERS OF NINE
TRIPLEX SPIRES OF ISABIS
BLOOD OF OISIN
DEDICATION
To my parents and my sons.
“I’m not asking for you to accept my dream as truth. You asked what came to me as I slept, and now, I’ve told you. Knowing the future doesn’t make you wise, Hacom. It only gives you a glimpse of what might come to pass. What you do with that knowledge is what reveals the worth of a man.”
~Nohek Glennon
75th year of Kehldaron
CHAPTER LIST
CHAPTER ONE: DISSENSION
CHAPTER TWO: MATTERS OF THE HEART
CHAPTER THREE: NIKOLINA
CHAPTER FOUR: BROTHERS XAAHN
CHAPTER FIVE: REVELATIONS
CHAPTER SIX: SINS OF THE FATHER
CHAPTER SEVEN: DEEPER BOND
CHAPTER EIGHT: SECOND CHANCES
CHAPTER NINE: MALEDICTION
CHAPTER TEN: THE KEY
CHAPTER ELEVEN: HALF A MAN
CHAPTER TWELVE: REDISCOVERED PATH.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE 'Y' IN THE ROAD
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: GREATER TRUTH
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WARRIOR PRIEST
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: ENDEAVORS
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: VOLUNTEERS
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: CONTEMPLATION
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
INDEX
KURINTOR NYUSI
a painful lesson
Temian skittered toward the wall, diving to the right, and barely missing the tip of the heavy bardiche. Sparks shot through the air as the blade smashed against the stone with a loud resonating clang.
Pentanimir, taking advantage of the moment, dove between his siblings and the indomitable man. Hearing the nearly silent charge, he swept the bardiche out, forcing Pentanimir into a crouch, narrowly avoiding the deadly blow.
Temian turned, unsheathing his dagger and launching it toward the man. He lunged forward in a roll, coming up swiftly to his feet with speed and agility unbelievable for someone of his size. A roar escaped his lips, noticing the trio of fighters taking position around him.
With practiced and methodical movements, they encircled the man. His eyes darted back and forth, gripping the bardiche tighter while assessing the dangerous trio. Thalassa struck first, her twin blades leading. He dropped the heavy bardiche, opting for his dagger and saber instead.
The lightening-fast fluidity of her attack had the man taking a step back as she spun around him, whirling with preternatural precision. He parried the swift moving blades almost effortlessly, wrenching the sword from her right hand, and sending it flying toward her brothers.
Thalassa worked her left blade in quick circles around his thrusting sword. Now on the defensive, she gave ground, flipping backward and landing lightly, then launching forward again with Temian at her side. Together, they attempted to keep the man off balance: one striking, and then the other in rapid succession, their movements in perfect harmony. The sound of the blades meeting was the perfect music for their well-practiced dance.
The solid metal bracers their opponent wore deflected Thalassa’s remaining blade, while Pentanimir came around the side, striking, and then quickly retreating. The well-muscled man only roared, scarcely noticing the hits. When Pentanimir thrust again, the man swept up hard with his sabre, sending the blade high. Planting one foot securely behind him, he slammed his knee into Pentanimir’s chest, sending him sailing backward against Temian, and halting his momentum.
Thalassa snarled, dropping into a roll, and retrieving her lost sword. She smiled then, pressing the attack and giving her brothers time to strike. This time, he met her charge, leading with his sword. She made a well-placed defensive shift, parrying his sabre with her left, and countering with a slash from her right. He only grunted, feeling her blades contact his thick flesh.
As she attempted a combination move, he blocked her swords with one hand while dipping low, using his free hand and shoulder to lift her from the ground, and tossed her effortlessly behind him.
Seeing their sister motionless, Pentanimir and Temian rushed to her side.
The dangerous man only laughed, glimpsing the rage in their eyes. In a blur, he sent his dagger soaring, contacting Temian between his eyes, knocking him to the ground.
Pentanimir continued his swift advance, matching his thrusts and parries. Feeling the press of his attack, Pentanimir quick-stepped and then side-slid to get around him. He thrust his sword high, but didn’t follow through with the move, attempting to force the man into a parry to leave an opening for his blade.
But the battle-seasoned warrior noticed the obvious feint. He spun to the side, slamming Pentanimir hard as he came around. Now off balance, Pentanimir tried desperately to compensate. After regaining his equilibrium, he turned, only to have his sword easily batted away and the tip of the man’s blade at his throat.
Pentanimir raised his hands in the air, signaling his surrender and defeat. “Again you’ve taken my head,” Pentanimir jested as a smile crossed his sweat-soaked face.
Symeon laughed, withdrawing the blunted sword. Together, they helped Thalassa and Temian to their feet. Both moaned, nursing the new bruises from the day’s workout.
“You fight well,” Symeon said, taking a drink of water.
Temian scoffed, caressing his forehead. “Not well enough.”
“All of you are impressive, especially Thalassa,” Symeon said. “There were several times that I thought you’d score a vital hit.”
“It wasn’t from lack of trying,” she said, rubbing her back.
Symeon laughed. “Indeed. Your technique is better than that of your brothers. The Protectors taught you well.”
“Yet I remained on the defensive and ended up on my back.”
“Rather that than having a projectile launched wickedly at your head,” Temian said.
It was Pentanimir’s time to laugh. He looked at his siblin
gs’ raised welts, feeling many aches of his own. “I see why it took nearly twenty guards to subdue you, my friend. I surely thought the three of us could score at least a few potent hits.”
Symeon regarded him seriously. “Why would you believe that you didn’t? You won’t be alone nursing bruises this night.”
“It appeared to me that you anticipated our moves before we had an opportunity to deliver them,” Temian said.
“This is true, but all of you are great warriors. When you and Thalassa work together, it’s even more so. You complement each other, and the more you train together, the more formidable you’ll become. However, you rely too much on choreographed moves. Anyone who’s received comparable training will recognize the same, and if the speed is there, will parry and counter every time. Once the sword is learned, you must personalize your style.
“You are your blades; become part of them. The dance is like making love to beautiful women. It’s never the same, constantly changing with the feelings and desires of each. Fighting is more than what you’ve learned. It’s what you feel. The dance is always better when the unknown is coupled with the known.”
“Where does that leave me, then?” Thalassa japed, resting a hand on her shapely hip.
Symeon winked gamely at her. “I think I’ll allow your brothers to answer that,” he said, bowing and exiting the chamber.
“Now will you tell us what has your mind, Pentanimir?” she asked, taking a seat next to Temian. “You’re training too hard and too often.”
“Training is important, Thalassa, and Symeon is the best that I’ve known.”
“You speak true,” Temian said, “But Thalassa does as well. Is it Brahanu? Is this why you hide in the sparring chamber away from your family and your people?”
“I’m not hiding, I’m training. All of the responsibilities of my position are met,” Pentanimir said louder than he intended.
Thalassa and Temian exchanged a glance.
“Pentanimir, you’ve done well for Nazil, but not for yourself,” Temian said. “You miss your wife and we understand that. Brahanu should return soon. Or you could travel to Cazaal. We’re all here for you, Brother.”
Pentanimir forced a smile, peering up at them. “I do miss my wife, but she needs this time. She’s still mourning the loss of her family, and Tioch hasn’t seen his grandson. I won’t disturb their time.”
“We know that Brahanu and Eytan need to be in Cazaal. I’m merely suggesting that you could visit. Please, Brother, your wife’s closeness is what you need, not another sparring session with Symeon,” Temian urged, rubbing the raised knot on his head.
Pentanimir laughed, wincing at the large, blue and green lump. “Mayhaps I should heed your advice, lest I look like you on the morrow. You are my High Advisor, are you not?” He smiled.
Temian nodded as the three rose from the table.
“You should have Mother look at that.” Thalassa grimaced. “Arianna won’t be pleased at the sight of you.”
Temian smiled, draping an arm over her shoulder. “I doubt that Jahno will be pleased at seeing your new bruises. I’m not the only one in need of a bit of healing.”
Pentanimir chuckled, caressing his aching side. “Indeed. You think that Hushar might have enough herbs for me? If I’m going to see my wife, I want her well pleased.” He winked.
Dissension
Molag stood, scowling as he leaned on the council table. His voice always sounded the loudest and with the most contempt. He held his unrelenting stare, peering into the eyes of each council member before focusing on Urdan.
He’d been against Urdan’s appointment as Caretaker, thinking he’d be a better and stronger leader for one of the three remaining Nazilian villages. Yarah was the only village where the humans didn’t reside, unless it was in servitude.
“Molag, we’ve heard your opinions on the matter,” Urdan said. “Now, please be seated so this meeting can continue in an orderly manner.”
“I have more to say, Caretaker, and more than a few agree with me.”
“I’ve given you the opportunity to voice your concerns. They are unchanging, and you constantly press a point that’s moot. There are others here yet to speak. I ask again that you take your seat so we may continue with pressing business.”
“So, again you refuse to give my concerns a proper hearing?” Molag said. “You cower in front of the new, self-imposed leaders of Nazil. Was the fair Arianna payment for the provisional position you hold, Caretaker?” He spat the last word with utter contempt.
Urdan flashed him a threatening glare, rising slowly from his seat, matching the imposing upstart’s stare.
“Sir Bomgaard, I’ve shown as much patience as I’ll allow. You deliberately attempt to disrupt any orderly meeting this council holds. A council that you were appointed to because of your experience and standing in this community. Still, as quickly as I placed you here, I’ll have you removed. Provisional or permanent, don’t ever doubt the authority of my position. You won’t intimidate members of this council or ever speak about my daughter in such a lewd fashion again. Your false tongue only serves to guide in fear and mistrust. We’re discussing means for the betterment of Yarah. I’ll not permit one upstart to ruin the peace we’ve always known in this village.
“If you’re not satisfied with the Zaxson’s edicts, Nazil is less than a sun’s ride. Speak those grievances directly to Sir Benoist, and do arrive with the same attitude you’ve been showing toward not just me, but all of this council. Now, take your seat, or I’ll have you removed.”
Molag’s face darkened. He tightened his square jaw, scrutinizing the council members’ faces. No one would regard him, but Urdan continued his piercing stare.
“You dare offer a threat toward me?”
“I don’t make threats, Molag. I’m stating a fact,” Urdan said, imperiously.
Molag’s eyes narrowed, but he lowered to his seat. After several tense moments, Hadrian Finwick cleared his throat, drawing the council’s attention.
“Caretaker, there’s still the issue of the temple that we have yet to decide.”
“Sir Finwick, I see no issue here. The temple will continue to be a place of worship for our people.”
“Pardons, Caretaker,” another councilman said. “I’ve received word from Nazil that their temple won’t be rebuilt, and the worship of the Four is forbidden.”
Urdan’s expression was one of dismay. He was aware that numerous Yarahians were working against the cooperation with Nazil. There were some, like Molag, who were attempting to gather enough support to converge on Nazil in force. He had to diffuse this situation now before more momentum was gained.
“Sir deGrey, what you speak is false. As we deliberate here, masons continue to rebuild Nazil’s temple. Mayhaps if you traveled to the white city instead of listening to the whispers of upstarts, you’d see the truth for yourself. Lord Benoist hasn’t banned the worship of the Four. He and his family have chosen to worship these Guardians, but he hasn’t imposed such restrictions on anyone else. Most humans still serve the Seven as we do the Four. That choice has not and will not be taken from us.”
Molag scoffed. “Guardians? More like pythonesses and winged demons. How are we to trust a Zaxson who follows those dark creatures? You’ve all borne witness to those slaves of darkness the pythonesses sent to destroy us. Now, every seventh sun they return to threaten the peace of our village. These beasts are evil, and they’ll feast on the flesh of our children!”
“Molag,” Urdan snapped. “You’ll cease with your wild tales of death and destruction. None of it’s true, yet you’d spew your hatred to incite others to your cause. You’ve no facts or evidence to offer, only hate and conjecture. Draizeyn is no longer our Zaxson…his line has been defeated. He waged a war that he couldn’t win. Now, we must accept the changes implemented by our new Zaxson. Nazilians are still in power, and we haven’t been subjugated as you would like the simpler among us to believe.”
“Caretaker, I agre
e with the majority of what you’ve stated,” came a calming voice. “I don’t wholly approve of this new direction, but I understand the war has caused such vicissitudes. Nonetheless, Nazil’s citadel isn’t only ruled by Nazilians. Both the Zaxson and his Nakshij have human wives and so, too, will be their heirs. When Sir Benoist abdicates, an abomination will be Zaxson. That’s not a prospect that I embrace,” Tybalt Maneryn offered, respectfully.
He was the eldest member of the council, and many respected his view. Though he didn’t speak often, when he did, he commanded everyone’s attention. Tybalt’s sentiments would likely resonate throughout Yarah. The Nazilians would look past Pentanimir to Tardison. When they pictured Pentanimir’s son, they wouldn’t see themselves. They’d see only a half-human abomination. A child that would’ve been killed at birth when the Vereux ruled Nazil.
Urdan leaned back in his seat, studying the faces of the men in the room. He wondered if they’d speak the same of Temian, once they learned about his human mother.
“Sir Maneryn, I understand your misgivings,” Urdan said. “Howbeit, the humans have always lived amongst us.”
“Not as equals,” Molag was quick to add.
Urdan ignored his outburst, and continued. “The changes we’re contending with were initiated by our own people: not by design, but by their actions. Each one of you knew Manifir Benoist and Kitrin Thaon. Both of them were honorable, and from prominent houses. Aronin Thaon still resides in Yarah with his family. My daughter, Ariana, wed the Zaxson’s brother and—”
“The Zaxson’s bastard brother from the honorable Manifir, you mean,” the upstart sneered.
“Enough!” Urdan said, standing abruptly. “Neither your agreement nor endorsement is obligatory. Pentanimir Benoist is the Zaxson of Nazil. Both he and his brothers are honorable men, regardless of your fallacious statements to the contrary. You can say what you will to tarnish that which shines brightly, but your efforts will be for naught. Had you made such claims to Sir Manifir or his sons, they would’ve dropped you where you stood. But that isn’t the way of cowards. Your voice rings loudly in this chamber, yet you utter not the slightest whisper when you’re in the company of those you claim to oppose.”
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