“There aren’t any Cha left in Nazil, and I’m certain the Zaxson wouldn’t allow them to reclaim the temple if there were.”
“Then why re-build it? It seems a futile effort if it isn’t going to be used.”
“I didn’t say that it would no longer be of use.”
“Well, what language is this?” she asked.
“From what I can discern, it’s the Mehlonii language.”
“Mehlonii?”
“Yes. It’s an arcane language used long ago in Faélondul. The Cha has references to the characters and how to decipher them, but it’ll take time. What I’ve discovered thus far is intriguing. Once I understand the characters more and the design of the words, it should go more quickly.”
Nikolina’s interest was piqued, taking a seat near his. “What have you discovered?”
“It isn’t complete and there are a few references that are unsettling. It mentions creatures of the Shadow Frost, Fire Lands, and Shadokyn. The most interesting to me are the inscriptions regarding a powerful mage. The Cha apparently communed with this mage and sought her guidance.”
“A mage? Of Nazil? Where?”
“This, I’ve yet to discover. By what’s written, she’s powerful, and centuries old. Albeit, it could be myth and nothing more. The Brotherhood of the Cha was filled with mysteries.”
“Isn’t all religion so, Father? The Cha were the most honorable of men and chosen by the gods themselves.”
“Nikolina, don’t equate one of high birth with one of great moral character or righteousness. There’s no parity to be found, and ofttimes, the opposite is true. Position doesn’t dictate the character of a man. I worked closely with the Cha for many years and there was much depravity within the temple.”
“Father, you speak of the messengers of the divine. That’s sacrilege.”
“No, I speak of men who pledged their lives to teach the word and will of the divine. When they stray from that purpose, it’s everyone’s duty to make it known. Doing less could guide the masses down a path contrary to what the gods demand. I serve the Four, not the men purporting to speak for them.”
She nodded with that truth. “What else have you found?”
“There’s mention of these Guardians that the Zaxson follows, but the passages are vague. I’ll learn more soon. I’m more interested in this mage the Cha seemed to covet. It appears that they’d visit in turn nearly each full moon. More recently, those visits all but ceased. Only six have been recorded over the past decade. It’s a mystery that needs unraveling.”
“If there’s anyone who can solve the mystery, it’s you. Is there any way that I can help you?”
“No, my daughter. The most difficult part is over. I only wish that I had the remaining scrolls. All the pieces of the puzzle need to come together for a full understanding.”
When she stood, Allister’s eyes rested on her hands caressing her abdomen.
“Nikolina,” he said with a tone she knew all too well. “I’ve spoken with the Nakshij.”
“Danimore? When?”
“The night that you informed me about your…predicament. I was angry, as any father would be in this situation. I felt that Sir Benoist should know that you were pregnant with his child.”
“But why? He won’t claim it and certainly would find no joy in the news. The babe is ours, Father. He’ll be a d’Garrion, as I am. An heir.”
“Even so, I thought that he had a right to know. I expected nothing from him but contempt, and that’s exactly what I received.”
“Was that slave whore there when you told him?” She smirked.
“No, and had his wife been present, I wouldn’t have informed him of your pregnancy. It isn’t my desire to cause any further harm to them, Nikolina. They’ve been more than fair concerning our treatment. Both of us have been spared the cells and allowed our lives. For your offense, we both could’ve been justly executed. Don’t you understand the extent of the crime that you committed? You—you…raped the Nakshij of Nazil. Never would I think you capable of such a malicious act.”
Nikolina scowled. “You make the act seem vile. It was of love and passion. I’m pleased that my efforts weren’t in vain. The gods have blessed me with a child, and I’ll love it endlessly.”
“Surely, you don’t believe that Danimore’s remembrances of this violation mirror your own? He’s married and his wife is pregnant with his child. You took from him his seed and will birth a…a bastard from it. Had the offense been committed against you, I would demand the offender be castrated and put to death.”
“His wife is a human whore,” she spat. “How does he even know if the child she’s carrying is his? She’s probably still spreading her legs for every guard in the citadel. My child…his child, is a true Benoist, not like that half-human bastard Raithym. Danimore knows that he was my first when we made love. That isn’t so with that diseased whore with whom he shares a bed.”
A look of incredulity covered his face. “Do you hear the words you speak? How can such foulness come from your mouth? Danimore loves his wife regardless of her past. He loved you, too, Nikolina. Place your hatred upon me if you must. I’m the one who deserves it. Danimore offered the pledge and wanted to marry you. The fault is mine, Daughter. You can’t continue to allow this hatred to consume you. How do you intend to care for Danimore’s child if the mention of his name causes such scorn? You have what you wanted. Be thankful the Benoists won’t seek retribution for your violation. They’ve merely ordered that you never disclose the father of your child. Doing so could cause harm where it isn’t intended.”
“Order?”
“Is that the only thing you’ve heard of this conversation? Nikolina, I’m in agreement with them. Revealing your child’s paternity could only cause more harm. Not only to the leaders of Nazil, but to us as well. No good could come of such a revelation.”
“Has your allegiance suddenly shifted to the side of the Benoists?”
“My allegiance is to my family, to our heritage, and to our gods. Nevertheless, I’m not without wit, or sympathy for the Nakshij and Shijahn. Know that I’ll support you until the end of my days. This path that you’ve set us upon, I’ll walk beside you. But I won’t allow you to commit further offenses against the Zaxson’s family.
“I won’t lose you to a woman’s scorn and foolishness, Nikolina. Put the Nakshij and his wife out of your mind. You’ve won, my daughter. You have what you wanted and placed a wound on the heart and marriage of Danimore. Leave it there and walk from it. I won’t lose you or my grandchild.”
“Forgive me, Father,” she said, hugging him. “I lose myself when I think of Danimore’s foul wife. We have been blessed, and I’ll force thoughts of that whore from my mind. Bearing Danimore’s child fills me with more joy than I ever thought possible. The Four has blessed us.”
“They have, and it pleases me to see you happy. Now, let us put this far behind us and move forward. To start, I need a good meal and a hot bath.”
Nikolina accepted his offered arm and smiled, glancing back at the parchments on his desk.
Conspiracies
“Well, what’re ya sayin’ then?” the old innkeeper asked, setting another drink in front of Molag.
The upstart took the glass from the bar, downing its brown contents in one gulp. After wiping the wetness from his lips, he stared hard at the man.
The inn was more crowded than it had been when the three entered. As the evening progressed, they knew more than a few would make their way to the inn for drink and food alike. Molag glanced around at the raucous crowd, motioning for another drink.
“I’m saying what too many are afraid to speak.”
The older man next to him shook his head of dirty white hair, looking at Molag unconvinced. “Urdan has always been an upstandin’ fella here in Yarah. I’ve known ‘im nearly more years than ya been livin’. Why would I think he’d have nothin’ but the best in mind for our village?”
The innkeeper leaned in closer on h
is one good arm to hear the conversation over the growing noise of the crowd. “Kraster makes a good point. Urdan is one of the best I know. What makes ya think he’s turned his back on his own kind?”
“Look around you,” the upstart said, sweeping his arms out.
The men looked around confused, and then back at Molag.
“Good innkeeper, what’s missing from your goodly establishment?” Molag asked, raising his brow. “What element has been forever removed that once put coin into your pockets? Surely you miss the sound of the coins dropped at your feet nightly for the slaves you offered to comfort the men not only from Yarah, but also the surrounding villages and outposts.”
The innkeeper had to nod at that. Not only did he no longer have slaves to purchase for pleasure, but also those who worked in the inn. Molag had made his point, pulling the scab from a wound only beginning to mend.
“That’s true ‘nough.” Kraster was quick to say. “But that weren’t Urdan’s doin’. That order came from the Zaxson.”
“So, the honorable Benoists can keep slaves from providing our pleasure, yet he can have one of his own?”
Brax laughed, spitting liquor from his mouth and nose.
“I believe that one’s his wife.” He laughed again. “She is a pretty one, though. I’d pay good coin for a ride atop that one!”
Molag shook his head, pointing at the man. “He can keep his filthy human. This is yet another insult. He’d marry a human and weaken our blood. Those sons of his are half-savage. How long do you think it’ll take until one of those abominations is sitting in the seat of the Zaxson?”
He stared at each of the men, awaiting their response. Molag did well to hide his wicked smirk when he noticed their expressions change.
“No savage has rule over me,” Kraster insisted. “But Urdan makes no such claim. His blood’s pure as is that of his line. He only enforces the new laws. It weren’t no different with Draizeyn and Naughton afore ‘im.”
“No difference?” Molag exclaimed, knowingly drawing the attention of many in the crowd. “Never did the Vereuxs turn their back on the Four. Our gods! Never did they raise a human up above a Nazilian!”
Words of encouragement began to erupt from the seated patrons. Molag stood, speaking in an orotund voice.
“These men of Nazil have joined with the pythonesses of the wood. We’ve all seen the demon beasts that were sent to destroy not only our home, but also our very lives! No, never would the honorable Draizeyn or Daracus have done this.
“They slaughtered our Zaxson and his children. These once honorable men cast aside our ways and our gods for the darkness. You only need to look at those at their side to recognize what dwells in their hearts. The Zaxson and Nakshij have taken human wives. Human!”
With that proclamation, louder shouts erupted as men stood from their seats in agreement.
A man yelled from a corner of the room: “That First Chosen he selected over worthy Nazilians is a former slave, I hear!”
Another man called out: “And the wife of the Nakshij was a slave whore in the citadel!”
Molag pointed at the men, nodding. “All true! Not only that, my friends. There are more egregious crimes being perpetrated by these once honorable men of Nazil. There’s an abomination now over the temple. He believes not in the Four, and will have no worship of them in the white city.”
Screams of protest rang out as more men leapt to their feet. Arguments broke out when some defended the Zaxson. It started as simple shouting and shoving, but it didn’t take long before a punch was thrown and fists began to fly.
Aronin and his friend watched it all from a darkened corner of the inn’s common room. They continued to drink, noting who was saying what.
“It would appear that Urdan has reason for concern,” Eithrig commented, quietly. “Molag won’t be easily silenced. He looks for allies.”
“He looks to sow discord and take position over the village. If this continues, he’ll find the support that he needs. These drunks in their cups will follow him to the very steps of the citadel,” Aronin said, shaking his head. “Molag is dangerous. Not only to Urdan, but to the peace and stability of Faélondul.”
“What are you going to do, Aronin? You see how he manipulates these men.”
“We watch and learn, my friend. Soon, I’ll visit my cousin. Pentanimir must know what he’s facing. This is no passing threat; Molag means to incite war.”
“War?”
“Have you ever heard an orator so skilled and determined that didn’t use his words to incite violence? Molag inspires hatred as well as the Vereuxs themselves. He won’t be satisfied with causing minor turmoil. The thorn in Urdan’s side has become much more; it would seem.”
“Indeed,” Eithrig agreed, ducking a wooden stool flying over his head. “It’s time to take our leave.”
Aronin nodded as he stood, sidling along the wall in an effort to avoid the commotion.
“What are we to do now?” Eithrig asked, glancing back at the inn.
“You should return home. I’m certain that your wife and son have missed you.”
Eithrig halted. “Surely you won’t continue without me.”
“I wouldn’t have you involved in activities so inherently dangerous. Shyla would never forgive me if you were harmed.”
“No, Aronin, we do this together. Shyla will understand the importance of what lies ahead. If you aren’t successful, the peace we enjoy in Yarah, mayhaps in all of Faélondul will be at risk. Molag is dangerous, and those who follow him will prove even more so. My heart is just as yours, and is in line with our new Zaxson. Your cousin doesn’t threaten our way of life, like Molag would have many believe. His is a better way, and allows freedoms for everyone, not only Nazilians. This isn’t an attack on us; it’s an end to the evils that we’ve accepted far too long. I wouldn’t be excluded from matters of this significance. You need me at your side.”
Eithrig’s sentiments touched him and he inclined his head, resuming their pace. There was much to consider, but Aronin had no idea where to begin. He looked back at the inn, still hearing the commotion from inside. Aronin noticed a group of guards rushing toward the building and took comfort that the insanity would soon be at an end.
For this night, anyway.
“Return home, Eithrig. I need to speak with Urdan.”
“Will you accept the position on the council, then?”
“That and more, my friend.”
CHAPTER SIX
Sins of the Father
Pentanimir’s gaze rested on Danimore’s empty chair. He couldn’t concentrate on this meeting with thoughts of his brother and Zeta pervading his mind. Closing his eyes, he fought against the barrage of images and sounds. It was for naught. Just more ghosts to haunt his dreams whilst diminishing his resolve. Some wrongs could never be righted, and the illusory blood staining his hands couldn’t be cleansed. Forever he would see it…feel it…and suffer the doleful memories.
“Have you read the report, Pentanimir?” Temian said in a manner that let him know it wasn’t the first time he’d posed the question.
“For—forgive me,” Pentanimir said, taking a deep breath. “My mind was elsewhere. To what report do you refer?”
“The report from Yarah. We received a bird, and the message has given us pause,” Temian said, handing him the rolled parchment.
Thalassa nodded. “It seems that Urdan is facing more troubles with the council. Some aren’t pleased with his appointment or your place as Zaxson.”
“I give no care if they’re pleased or not. Urdan is the Caretaker and that’s not going to change,” Pentanimir said, reading the message in full. “Does anyone know this Molag, and can he cause Urdan significant grief?”
“I know of him,” Temian said. “He has a reputation in the village, and is a proud Nazilian, no doubt. If Draizeyn would’ve had a twin, it’d be this man. He can cause Father Urdan great grief. According to the message, Molag is attempting to cause division and discord.�
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“Then we should regard him as a serious threat?” Pentanimir asked.
“Indeed.”
“What are we supposed to do? Humans have begun attacking Nazilians for the sport of it, upstarts would have my head and enslave all the humans again, and the villages and cities bicker over goods and leaders,” Pentanimir recounted. “You’d think the lands weren’t again free.”
“It’ll take time for the people to settle,” Symeon said. “Some Nazilians are angered that they’ve lost their slaves. They feel that you’ve elevated humans while lowering their status. Not only have the Caretakers been replaced, but you’re wed to a human with sons of a blended heritage. Even your First Chosen is one they’d consider nothing more than a servant.”
Pentanimir grinned. “Mayhaps they’d care to test their skill against yours and learn who’s truly superior.”
“A lesson I’d gladly provide.”
Temian and Thalassa chuckled, considering such a contest. On reflex, Temian rubbed his forehead, recalling his first sparring session with the formidable First Chosen.
As Pentanimir reached for more tea, Nzuri entered the chamber.
“Nzuri, how is Zeta?” Pentanimir asked.
“She sleeps. The swelling and bruising has diminished, but she still hasn’t awaken. Danimore refuses to leave her side, but he needs rest, Zaxson.”
“Does Dani know?” Thalassa asked.
Nzuri nodded, grimly. “He was there when his son was born, but Hushar had Micah rush him away.”
“Is Hushar certain about Zeta’s condition?” Pentanimir asked.
“Only the gods truly know,” Nzuri said. “She’s treated similar injuries and can only speculate. Howbeit, we must continue to pray. Once Zeta learns about her son, she’ll be devastated. Losing the ability to have another child might be an outcome she couldn’t bear.”
“I fear the same for Dani,’ Pentanimir said, solemnly. “He’ll forever blame himself for this tragedy. No words can soothe such an ache.”
“Are we to learn the truth of this, Brother?” Temian asked.
“It’s not my truth to tell. When he’s able, Dani will explain everything to you. They’ll both need all of us.”
Seed of Scorn Page 15
