Seed of Scorn

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “The AsZar awaits.” Arinak’s deep voice brought him from his contemplations.

  Bowing, Pentanimir thanked him, and stepped through the door he was holding open. Angelaris stood as they approached.

  [6]“Be’tam amelyko, uhnmé,” Angelaris said, caressing Arinak’s face as he knelt in front of her. He rose, offering a bow before exiting the chamber.

  When she regarded Pentanimir, his expression betrayed his thoughts. “I’d offer you the comforts of my chamber, son of Manifir, yet I feel that your time is constrained and your need great.”

  “Thank you, AsZar. It wasn’t my intent to intrude, but I was left with little choice. Only you can bring clarity to such obfuscation.”

  “If it’s clarity that you seek, pose then your queries.”

  He reached in the pocket of his cloak, pulling out a tattered piece of parchment.

  “When our High Priest, Nzuri, searched the scrolls, he found not only the mention of the [7]T’reyUhm R’aFek, but also that of another referred to as the—”

  [8]“Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon,” Angelaris finished for him.

  “Yes. Nzuri has expressed both concern and caution. With Thalassa’s guidance, his knowledge of the Mehlonii language has improved greatly. However, Thalassa couldn’t assist with the tangible meaning of the phrase, only the translation of the words. Does Nzuri have cause to fear, AsZar? Do we all?”

  “There’s much that you’ll learn as you continue to study the scrolls,” she said. “They were written to provide an indubitable and complete accounting of what was, what is, and some things that are yet to be.

  “Some inscriptions serve as a warning, telling of those who have committed offenses so egregious, they were forced from the light. Past events were chronicled in hopes that such mistakes wouldn’t be repeated. Even so, mortals have free will, and we allow you, all of you, to express it. We can only tell you about us, of the balance, and the peace. We cannot and will not force our will upon you. It’s for you to accept us willingly.”

  “What about Brahanu and me?” He asked not in defiance, but for the need of clarity.

  “We only orchestrated your meeting, not what decisions you made after doing so. We merely enhanced what was already within your heart. Never did we force you or any one. You were led by your heart, Pentanimir, as we knew that you would be. The love you felt then and now is genuine.”

  He nodded, knowing that to be true. “There’s still much we don’t understand. You spoke of offenses and those forced from the light. How, and what was their offense?”

  “You have queries that I fear you aren’t truly prepared to have answered. We knew Nzuri would be of great assistance deciphering and transliterating the scrolls. Drah’kuu Kuhani has taught and guided him well, but we didn’t expect the zealousness Nzuri would assert when assimilating this knowledge.”

  “Please, AsZar, my priest is troubled, and my heart led me to you. The answer lies here, with you and the Guardians. When you warned about the war, I wasn’t prepared then, either. But my trust in you and the protection of Faélondul was greater than my dubiety. Regardless of my readiness, I did what needed to be done. Just as now, whether I’m ready to accept what you speak or no, please, I must hear it. What is the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon, and why does my priest fear it so?”

  Angelaris caressed the sparkling crystal hanging around her neck. As her eyes closed, a luminescence appeared behind her. The soft light gradually increased, causing Pentanimir to avert his eyes. When he looked again, the Guardians were standing behind Angelaris. He lowered to his knees in reverence to the divine beings.

  “Rise, son of Manifir,” the Guardians spoke in unison. The melodious sound of their eurythmic voices cascaded over him, with the warmth of a soothing fire.

  “I’ve summoned the Guardians because they can reach both your heart and your mind, allowing you to see beyond what is seen,” Angelaris said. “Unlike me, they are eternal.”

  His visage was perplexed.

  “No, I’m not a primordial,” she said. “I was merely chosen, as many of Afferea were. For me, it was before I was placed in the womb of my mother, much as it was for Tardison. My existence will end as all in these lands, and I’ll pass through the T’reyUhm R’aFek.”

  “But your powers are as the Guardians. I’ve seen it.”

  “No, you’ve seen only what your eyes will allow. There’s always more that is unseen. Your mind creates images for you to perceive. But if you look beyond vision, and use your inner sight, more would be discernible.”

  A look of incredulity covered his face.

  Yemala: “You don’t understand...” Behanish:“...because you don’t accept...” Ahdessa: “…what is already known.” Tyetu: “Instead, you try to reason...” Oloran: “…beyond perception while denying the truth.” In Unison: “The truth within your heart.”

  Pentanimir’s mouth gaped. “You—you are human.”

  “And so I shall remain until I journey beyond the falls,” Angelaris said.

  “But you’ve lived for hundreds of years. How is this possible without being eternal?”

  “All those of Afferea are blessed by the Guardians, Pentanimir. We are not limited by linear perceptions. The passage of time to the divine is disparate from what one of the lands perceives. To you, it’s finite: there’s a beginning and an end. To the Guardians, it’s infinite and ever changing. My existence will seem eternal to one of the lands, but it’s merely one thousand of your years, a mere thread in the tapestry of true existence. When my time grows near, another will be prepared to take their place as AsZar. The seed has already been planted and will soon begin to flourish.”

  “A thousand years?”

  “I’ve been the AsZar since the eighty-fifth year of Talberon.”

  “And—and this is connected to the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon?”

  Angelaris stood, motioning for him to rise. As he did so, the Guardians glided closer, encircling him.

  “If it’s truly your desire to understand the complexities of the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon, we will make it so. But this knowledge comes with a price, Zaxson, a truth that you may be unable to endure. Once the Guardians have placed their hands upon you, no one can expel the memories of that which you will witness. It’s a corollary, a burden that you must bear for the knowledge that you seek.

  “Is it truly your desire to learn about the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon?”

  He hesitated briefly, before nodding.

  Pentanimir closed his eyes, feeling the Guardians’ gentle touch. A warmth cascaded through him as he felt a merging of thought and of consciousness. When he attempted to open his eyes, he couldn’t move. His body was rigid, with the gentle warmth suffusing him.

  In an instant, the darkness was overcome by light, an almost blinding light. When he thought to close his eyes, to shield them, he remembered that they were yet closed. And as quickly as the light had appeared, it was gone. Nothing but darkness remained, and the warmth soon dissipated as well.

  Pentanimir emerged in desolation, seeing endless faces of those who inhabited the unsettling space. All of them, all looked like him, as those of Nazil.

  Incoherent words were spoken all at once: some pleading, others demanding, while others cursed the darkness.

  Their eyes were nearly clear, virtually glowing, adjusting to the endless night. Their flesh had paled, as did their hair, which Pentanimir now understood, through the Guardians, was caused by the same lack of light, the lack of sun, only darkness remained.

  He watched as they struggled walking…no…lumbering through the muck and mire that surrounded them. The soft and unforgiving ground would surely consume them if their movement ceased too long.

  Pentanimir felt a sting in his nostrils from the fetid stench, burning not only his nose, but his eyes as well. He wasn’t there, not feeling what the limitless men and women felt, yet, he was. He experienced the emptiness, and the suffering, hearing the pleas and prayers being offered to gods of their own creation.
/>
  His heart became heavy, witnessing the brutalities committed. Although once the pain had been suffered, and someone fell to the ground, they didn’t perish; they could not. They rose again, continuing to trudge. On and on it went. Constant movement, clamor, and darkness: an unending melancholia and malevolence never changing.

  A tear rolled down his cheek, but he could do nothing to remove it. He was as an effigy, an immobilized version of himself, a mere observer hovering far above those in the darkness, the unending pits where the damned dwelled. Pentanimir wasn’t certain of his last thought, but it seemed only logical to him now. This was the space beyond.

  The Cha had taught them about the wasteland of souls, wandering lost and tortured. But he didn’t see the ones described as their tormentors. The giant, disfigured humans, tormenting the men and women of Nazil. Devouring them with razor-sharp teeth only to spew them forth amidst the bile and acrid fluids of their stomachs, to be devoured eternally.

  Now, he understood, or at least he thought that he did…allowing only the Guardians’ merge to provide that which he didn’t comprehend. He didn’t use his eyes, not as he had before. He used his heart in concert with his mind, enabling more of what lay before him to take hold, to provide the answers that he sought, not depending on his mere and limited understanding. It was a glimpse into a world beyond all others.

  It wasn’t until he felt the darkness consuming him did the Guardians release their hold. He drifted motionless, looking over the sea of Nazilians, reaching out to the figure that they now noticed above them. Had he his sword, Pentanimir would have batted the pale appendages away, but there was nothing, literally nothing, only darkness.

  With the severing of the Guardians’ connection, fear consumed him. Panic took hold as he felt himself descending into the space where only the damned could reside. He peered left, and then right, searching for any possible escape, anything that would end the interminable ache that he felt, and the torment that accompanied it, descending ever closer to the hands of those thirsting to trawl him down into the ordure that they couldn’t escape.

  He wanted to yell out, to scream, to beg for the pain to end, and then, the light appeared. Only a fissure, a small opening for him to pass. Pentanimir clenched his eyes, calling upon the Guardians. And when he opened them again, he was among them.

  His body shook violently as the visions assailed him. He batted at imagined fingers, grasping his arms, his face drenched with sweat. No longer able to support his weight, he plummeted to the ground, trembling. When he inhaled, only the stench of the abyss filled his nostrils, causing vomit to spew from his mouth.

  [9]“R’ryn Sha’low, Son of Manifir. [10]T’och de’ fe’laite amelyko,” the Guardians offered in unison. Their voices gave calm to his tormented mind as he lay on the ground, crying out in agony. When they moved to their place behind the AsZar, she bowed to the beings, as they faded from their presence.

  Angelaris approached Pentanimir, setting a large goblet and cloth upon the table. “Drink of this, and return to the world that you know.”

  He could say nothing, clutching the edge of the table, and managing to rest his weight on wobbly knees. After drinking from the goblet, both his breathing and his mind began to calm.

  Angelaris allowed him time to recover, knowing the visions would never completely leave his mind. The emptiness and torment of the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon would forever plague him.

  Before he could question, she began to answer. “You’ve heard us speak of balance, Pentanimir. Invariably, this must exist, or darkness would consume the light.

  “Just as the Guardians are wielders of this light, there are others of lesser hegemony who wield the darkness…the Zon’Tuls. Forever they dwell in the shadow and exist only in that realm, the vast wasteland of turpitude and turmoil, unable to see beyond the darkness that they’ve created.

  “The Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon is a realm devoid of light. Once one has passed through the T’reyUhm R’aFek and released into the darkness, there is no return.”

  He stared at the AsZar, shaking his head. “I felt the pain of their existence, the fear, and the rage. Everyone I saw was Nazilian. Is this abyss for us alone? Am I to suffer as they do?”

  “It isn’t for you to suffer so. The souls ensnared in the darkness merely appeared to you as Nazilian. When you looked over the multitude, you saw only yourself and your people. We’d hoped that the Guardian’s merge would increase your understanding, providing enlightenment to assist in deciphering what your eyes witnessed, but accepting the truth known in your heart. More is needed.”

  “Did I not see an endless procession of Nazilians?” he asked, still trembling. “I shared in their suffering as if it were my own. Please, AsZar, help me to see so that I may fully understand the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon and myself.”

  Angelaris nodded, setting a scroll tube on the table. “It was the sixty-seventh year of Paeteon when the humans fought savagely against each other. War erupted throughout Faélondul, and the Guardians wouldn’t interfere.

  “It wasn’t until those who dwelled where Nazil now stands began delving into powers they couldn’t understand or control, did the Guardians send the messenger to them. They rejected Tesu and the Guardians, ignorant of the darkness they were attempting to summon. They craved power and dominion over all others in Faélondul.”

  “Darkness? Even with Tesu’s guidance, they persisted?”

  “They rejected the messenger as they did us. When Tesu returned, he warned them of their fate if they didn’t cease their actions. Again, they cursed the light, summoning the darkness.

  “It was then that the judgment was passed, and the consequence made real.”

  “Consequence?”

  “They were allowed the darkness they so coveted. They were banished from the light world and plunged into that which is void of it.”

  “The Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon?” Pentanimir breathed.

  She nodded, sorrowfully. “For one hundred years they remained in the abyss, separate and apart from those who’d passed through the T’reyUhm R’aFek, yet dwelling among them in darkness.”

  “Did they yet live, the ones banished to the wasteland?”

  “We wouldn’t take their life. As they lived in the lands, so did they in the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon.”

  “But how? How did they survive in such darkness and emptiness?”

  “They survived because we permitted them to. This realm was their home until the Guardians broke the seal, returning them to the light.”

  Pentanimir grasped his temples as if her words caused him pain. His eyes were clenched shut, replaying all that she’d said, until a glimmer of understanding reached him.

  “The Nazilians,” he said, surprising even himself at the assertion.

  “Now you begin to truly understand. The humans remained for one hundred years in the darkness. When they emerged into the light of Faélondul, they were as you saw them within the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon. They were as you are, Pentanimir, forever altered to resemble those who shall never return to the light.

  “In the beginning, they were grateful for the release—contrite and promising many things to the Guardians. Albeit, as the years passed and those who suffered no longer drew breath, their history was corrupted and a new one inserted in its place. It took but one to cause the rift in the lands.”

  “We are all of us human, AsZar?” Pentanimir asked, disbelieving.

  “No one is different from any other. Thought wasn’t given to the transformation of those banished to the darkness. Their features merely reflect the absence of light, as does yours. No one can reside in darkness without the vestiges of such an incarceration forever upon them.”

  “But those features are my own,” Pentanimir said, as his eyes darted back and forth, processing the information. He gasped.

  “Their eyes, they lighten in an effort to see within the darkness. And—and the lack of sun, being forced to live beneath the reach of light paled their flesh,�
� he said, stroking his arm, looking down at the wan skin covering it.

  “All of it, all of it was a lie. The Nazilians weren’t chosen to rule Faélondul because our features mirrored the gods. They’re a dreadful concomitant, and a reminder of our sacrilege and disobedience!” He pounded a fist on the table.

  “We weren’t chosen because of our faithfulness; we were condemned and banished due to the evils in our hearts.”

  “That evil doesn’t dwell in your heart, Pentanimir, or the majority of those who have named themselves Nazilian,” Angelaris said as a comfort, pointing to the scroll. “This is the history of your people…long forgotten and long destroyed.”

  He raised his head, meeting her eyes. “We. Are. Human.”

  “Only the prevarications of your predecessors made it otherwise.”

  “But why would the Guardians allow such an offense a second time? Why?”

  “Pentanimir, when your ancestors were released from the Doh’Mahn Vwazi Tr’Eon, Nazil wasn’t as you know it. The Nazilians hearts weren’t filled with the hate that consumed Draizeyn and those before him. They lived in peace in Faélondul, never desiring to return to the dark. They remained separate in that distant corner of the lands.

  “Over time, many things of great importance were lost or intentionally destroyed. The new Nazilian line placed themselves above all others of these lands. It took but one seed of darkness to grow within the fertile ground in which it was planted. From that seed, the Nazil you came to know was created.

  “The Guardians wouldn’t send them into darkness as they had before. We hoped that others in Faélondul would become stronger than those who raised themselves above them. However, the darkness was too powerful for those wielding the light. They succumbed to it, and in time, grew accustomed to its presence.”

  “What am I now to do? What would the Guardians have of me?”

  “You are to continue. There’s yet one who seeks the very darkness that consumed so many. You must be ready, and don’t fear that which lies within you. You’re the ruler of Faélondul until Tardison is ready. It won’t be swift or free from conflict. Many years will pass before everything is as it should be. The darkness remains, son of Manifir, and so will the evils spawned from its existence.”