Seed of Scorn

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “I agree, Zaxson. At no time did I demonstrate any techniques other than what he’d expect. If he’s victorious during the public challenge, he’ll be closely monitored.”

  “What about Wosen?” Temian asked. “If he isn’t in the practice chamber, he’s sparring with you.”

  “Wosen is as the Zaxson said. His skill was limited when we began training, but now he’s more practiced than guards twice his age,” Symeon said. “He trains hard and doesn’t complain when assigned repetitive routines. His muscles needed to be trained to respond to basic moves and retain that memory, but his body is stronger and more balanced. In but a few years, he might test even my skill.”

  “That’s a true compliment.”

  “One that’s well earned, I assure. Wosen’s prowess is exceptional and will continue to advance. His martial training was adequate, and his prowess improves daily.”

  “A testament to your training,” Danimore said. “You’d mentioned something about Lord Swayne?”

  “I did. There’s been movement among Molag’s followers,” Temian said. “They’ve been readying for an attack, but Jarin isn’t certain where or when. Father Urdan has doubled his guard around the citadel in preparation. We’ve learned there are numerous guards in Nazil awaiting an opportunity for revenge.”

  Pentanimir nodded. “We must take extra care, then. Nakaris said some guards have been gauging his loyalty as well. No doubt they’re attempting to bring him and others to Molag’s side. Having the Second Chosen move against the Zaxson would be of great strategic advantage.”

  “Indeed,” Danimore said. “You should double your guard, too, Pentanimir. Did Nakaris give you the names of these men?”

  “There are but two, but they aren’t stationed in the citadel. It’s likely that they’re being used to shield the ones who are. We’ve taken precautions, for all of us.”

  “Zaxson, is Lady Benoist traveling to Cazaal as planned?” Symeon asked.

  “Yes, Tioch is expecting them. Why do you ask?”

  “With respect, do you think it’s wise to continue to do so? The road through Depero Wood hasn’t been completed, and Lord Ravenot is still discovering bands of rogues spread throughout. The Zaontras’ caravan must travel around the wood, stopping in Yarah and the outpost. With the recent information regarding Molag’s supporters, mayhaps we should learn more before allowing the Zaontras to travel.”

  “Brahanu and Eytan are well protected by a vetted retinue. I trust Nakaris and Wosen to ensure her safety.”

  “I trust Nakaris and Wosen, too, Zaxson, but we don’t truly know where the other guard’s loyalties lie. Lady Benoist’s visits to Cazaal are too consistent for my liking. Anyone could’ve monitored the trips and learned her schedule. Mayhaps we should delay or at least change her current routine.”

  “Your concerns are duly noted, and it would be prudent to do so,” Pentanimir said. “With the new threat in Yarah and the uncertainty in Nazil, it may be best. Nonetheless, she’s expected and leaves on the morrow. Upon her return, you and Nakaris will take charge of her arrangements.”

  “If it pleases you, Zaxson,” he pressed. “I could join Sir Middleton and enlist a few men that I trust. Permit me to send a message to Kaleo and contact the brothers Xaahn. They’re usually available for such work. I’ve known them for years, and would trust them with my life.”

  “I appreciate your commitment, Symeon, but I need you in Nazil. We have important business to attend to, and I’d trust no one else. However, I’ll acquiesce to your insight. Send your message to these brothers of yours. If they’re as trustworthy as you say, I’d like to meet with them. Brahanu and Eytan must be kept safe.”

  Peregrination

  Allister shivered, clutching his cloak tighter, as he attempted to control his trembling hands. His fingers were nearly numb, growing more rigid after the gelid downpour had saturated his clothing. The same prayer repeated in his mind, as he blew warm breath into a partially closed fist, trying to bring life back into limbs that the sudden storm had stolen away.

  “Please,” he murmured through chattering teeth.

  Allister brushed snowflakes from his eyes, huddling closer into the scree-covered lee, providing some shelter from the wind’s bitter bite. He gathered some stones in a circle, in an effort to keep the last of his dry grass and scrapings from blowing away. Most of his supplies were damp, and the fire was his only defense against freezing during the night.

  Angling the flint toward the bed, he scraped again, continuing until a spark lit the grass. “The gods are good,” he said, carefully adding twigs to the small flame. After several minutes, the fire grew, and he checked the pile of wood, slowly inserting the driest pieces.

  As the flames grew in intensity, he peered out at the jagged peaks scarfed and beribboned with snow. Stoking the fire, he leaned forward, gazing down at the carved, grey crevices, with waterfalls drifting like skeins of silvery silk into the frigid, ice-rimmed pools below. At any other time, he could’ve appreciated the mountain’s beauty and the melodious trickling of the falls. However, this wasn’t the time, and his battered body wouldn’t allow thoughts of beauty to find his heart.

  He’d lost track of the days as he trudged up the steep peaks, searching for the key to save his daughter and unborn grandchild. He pulled out the map again, grasping its flapping edges.

  “The seventh peak,” he said, squinting into the wind. The mountain’s icy headdress glittered like jewels, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the landscape as the last remnants of the sun faded, surrendering to the night.

  Had the storm not ceased his advance, he would’ve reached his destination. From what he could discern, the key’s resting place was less than a kilometer from his position. The recess indicated on the map was visible from his shelter, and he was determined to reach it. At least, he hoped that his body would obey the pleas of his mind and heart. Allister wasn’t a young man, and as he leaned back against the cold stone, his bones ached, reminding him of the same.

  He cursed himself for past decisions whilst bringing an image of Nikolina forward in his mind. Regardless of what he had to endure, he’d find the key, and deliver it to the wretched mage. Nothing else mattered in that moment but his survival. Only he could save his daughter, but first, he’d have to save himself.

  Alliances

  “I prefer Lady Sahma Voney,” Jarin said for the third time, crossing his arms over his chest, as he leaned back, staring at his father.

  “This much is certain. In different times, mayhaps it could’ve been possible, but not now. Sahma is a wonderful young woman and your mother and I enjoyed her visit immensely. However, Sir Kampmeyer’s daughter is of equal beauty and is accepting of your pledge. We’ve spoken about this many times, Jarin, and you were aware of the pledge negotiations before your trip to Nazil. Gwendolyn is a good match for you.”

  “I don’t care about Gwendolyn or her father. Arianna was allowed to wed whom she chose. Do I not have the same opportunity?”

  “Your sister wed Temian Benoist, and that’s no small thing. His father held a great position and was highly respected throughout Faélondul. Sahma, though beautiful, is half-human with her eyes loudly proclaiming that truth. The people won’t accept a—an abomination for your pledged.”

  “Sahma is no abomination!”

  “And you are no child, Jarin. The people will brand her as such. Can’t you think beyond your loins and consider your family and Yarah? Molag is gaining support amongst the populace. He labels us traitors for supporting the Zaxson and apostates besides. If you were to wed Sahma, his support would surely swell. Gwendolyn is from a fine house, and her father is a former Third Chosen. It’s a good match, and once you’ve met her, I’m certain that you’ll find her pleasing.”

  “So, I have no say with whom I share my life or my bed? You told me that I should follow my heart. This was said not only for the path of my life, but for the one I choose to share in it, too. Has so much changed that such things have lo
st all meaning? Must I truly immolate my happiness due to Molag Bomgaard?”

  “This situation is a fragile one,” Urdan said. “Yarah teeters on the edge of an uprising. We need this alliance, my son. Many will support our cause once you’ve wed. Gwendolyn will leave her father’s house and remain in Yarah with us. How do you think Molag’s supporters will react to such news? Her father is well respected, and knowing that he’s petitioned to join our family will elevate House Swayne immeasurably, and bring support flocking to our side. Had your sister not wed Temian, I would’ve selected a lord from Nazil for her as well.”

  With that, Jarin straightened. If his father wouldn’t have allowed Arianna’s marriage, his fears were greater than Jarin had realized. The threat from Molag Bomgaard was certainly real, but with his recent travels, he wasn’t privy to the daily activities in Yarah.

  “Has the situation become so dire?”

  “It has.” Urdan’s expression was solemn. “Molag isn’t alone in his thinking. There are many in Nazil who believe the same. Even though the lands are in better condition than in past years, the people grow fearful. It isn’t due to the Zaxson. It’s due to those he chose to have at his side. It isn’t difficult for many Nazilians to be swayed, Jarin. With the addition of these Guardians the Zaxson serves…” he let his words end there, shaking his head.

  Urdan regarded his son, seeing the pain in his expression. He felt that pain as surely as if it was his own. He had to place the needs of Yarah over the desires of his son, but that realization did nothing to lessen his guilt. When Sahma visited Yarah, Jarin’s feelings for her were obvious. Seeing that love and admiration was both joyous and sorrowful. Sahma was the first woman that Jarin had loved, and that wouldn’t be easily cast aside. Urdan hoped that once Jarin met Gwendolyn, she could evoke those same feelings and win his heart.

  “When are we leaving for Nazil to meet them, Father?”

  “They’ll be our guests fourteen suns hence. There’ll be a feast in their honor, of course, and the Cha Asham will offer blessings for your pledge and coming bond.”

  “Who else will be attending?”

  “The high lords and ladies, and the council,” Urdan said, not meeting his eyes. He stood to leave, pausing beside him. “It’s a good match.”

  Jarin buried his face in his hands once he was alone. He’d never met anyone that captivated him the way Sahma did. How he’d fallen for her so quickly puzzled him. Numerous women attempted to gain his attention and even more, his bed. He received his pleasures often, yet never considered marriage until meeting Sahma. She was dissimilar than any others he’d met, and her beauty was enhanced by both her innocence and kindness.

  He pounded a fist on the table. He’d complete his duties for his family, and Yarah as well. But before he did, he needed to see Sahma again. He was certain that she would’ve accepted his pledge, and he’d almost offered it. Now, he was relieved that he hadn’t.

  With a defeated sigh, he pushed up from the table. If Gwendolyn would arrive in fourteen suns, then he’d go to Sahma before that time. He needed to let her know what was in his heart and what his obligations wouldn’t allow. She knew about the possible pledge, however, she didn’t know that he was against it. He didn’t want her to think that his words or actions were dishonest. At least, he could do that much.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Half a Man

  Nearly half a glass had passed since Dalia arrived at the door. The swirling thoughts pervading her mind kept her pacing, unable to gather her resolve. Wringing her hands, she attempted to summon the courage to knock. Though, each time she raised her hand, she lowered it again. There was so much she wanted to say, and more that she needed to know. What Sarai had revealed didn’t matter to her, and that, she didn’t understand.

  Dalia raised her hand again, not knowing how to begin explaining her feelings to him, or to herself. Her sister and many others wouldn’t approve of her decision, and she could understand their position. She couldn’t deny Beilzen’s past or how he was perceived, but that wasn’t the man she knew.

  She attempted to knock once more, but her confidence waned and she shook her head instead. The courage that swelled within her earlier had faded. She sighed, turning to leave. As she raised her head, Beilzen was approaching from the far end of the corridor. When he saw Dalia standing at his door, he smiled, hastening his steps. It had been weeks since he’d seen her.

  “Dalia—”

  She silenced him with a kiss, causing him to stumble against the door. His breathing grew heavy, fidgeting with the door’s handle and pushing it open. They never released each other, nearly toppling through the open door.

  “I’ve missed you,” Beilzen was finally able to say.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she said, closing and latching the door. “Where’s Fáelán?”

  “He—he’s training with Symeon,” he said timidly, as she unclasped his tunic, gliding her hands over his chest. “I just left them.” His eyes closed tight, feeling the eruption of heat surging through his body. When she reached for his laces, his eyes blinked open, and he took a step back.

  She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Then there’s time,” she said, kissing him again and continuing to explore.

  “Wait, please, Dalia wait,” he protested.

  “We’ve waited long enough. I don’t care what anyone thinks about you or us.”

  He staggered back a step, bumping into the end of his bed. “No, Dalia. You don’t understand. I’ve tried to tell you. I—I can’t please you. I wish that I could, truly. There’s nothing more I desire this moment than to taste you and feel the warmth of your touch. But I can’t…I could never—”

  His protest ended when she loosened the laces of her gown, allowing it to fall to the floor. He stared longingly as her bust burst free from her bodice. Lowering to the edge of the bed, he admired her naked beauty, unable to turn away.

  “If your desire is to taste me,” she said, positioning her breasts a hair’s breadth from his face. “What are you waiting for?”

  Without further resistance, he reached out to her, leaning forward. “Oh, gods,” he breathed.

  Dalia’s eyes rolled back, as he took them both at once, causing her knees to weaken. She unfastened the remaining clasps on this tunic, fully exposing his chest. “Yes, we’ve waited long enough,” she said, drawing him in closer while lowering on the bed. His movements never ceased, savoring all that she’d allow. When she lifted his face to hers, he moaned, feeling her tongue encircle his. Beilzen rolled atop her then, sliding his hands down her abdomen. His eyes closed, feeling the immense saturation from her arousal.

  “Beilzen,” she whimpered as his fingers continued to work.

  He kissed downward, his mouth tasting every part of her, leaving pleasured tingles in its wake. As he began his intimate kiss, she squealed, clutching at the man pleasing her like none other. Her body shuddered as her satisfaction peaked, encompassing her in continuous waves of pleasure. She called out the name of her lover, increasing in volume as the intoxicating ecstasies escalated.

  “Oh…yes…” she breathed, twitching and drawing him back up to her. She kissed him passionately, hungrily, clutching at his back and arse.

  The feel of her breasts against his chest made him yearn to be a part of her. He kissed her again, not wanting to be free from this moment.

  “Was I able to please you?” he whispered against her lips.

  “No one has ever made me feel the way you have. I never knew what true pleasure was meant to be.”

  He forced back the emotions threatening to overtake him. Never did he think he could please a woman again, or that he’d even have the opportunity to try. He brushed her lips with his, sliding to her side. He could go no further, though he wished it otherwise.

  “Don’t I please you, too?”

  “More than you could ever know, Dalia. I’ve given you all that I can. I—I have nothing more to offer.”

  She s
troked his chest, kissing down his neck. Every soft touch left lingering trickles of pleasure. His body shuddered, enjoying the feel of her warm tongue and fingers. When her hand slid down his abdomen, he raised up, reaching for her wrist.

  “I—I don’t have anything else to offer,” he said, casting his gaze downward. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

  “You have more to offer than you know, Beilzen. Won’t you let me touch you?”

  “You don’t understand. I—”

  She kissed him again. “I do understand,” she said, sliding her hand down further. Beilzen flinched as her fingers gently caressed where his manhood once stood. Her expression didn’t change as she searched his body, continuing her massage. Her touch was more gratifying than he could’ve imagined. He laid on his back, allowing her to continue.

  He didn’t move when she untied his laces, slipping a hand down into his trousers. As she nestled into his chest, her hand never ceased its movement.

  “I’m in love with you,” he said, suddenly. “It isn’t fair for me to say so or expect anything in return, but I needed you to know my heart. Even half a man can love a beautiful woman.”

  “You’re not half a man, Beilzen. Never have I been so well pleased in both my heart and my body. Still I feel it. There’s nothing I desire that can’t be found in you.”

  “How do you know that you won’t long for what I can never provide? I can please you now, but it might not remain so. I can’t become a part of you, and could never satisfy that yearning.”

  “Will you tire of sharing my bed and my heart?”

  “Never would I. Until you came, I thought myself incapable of such feelings. I’d never tire of loving you, tasting you, or feeling your body tremble beneath me.” He kissed down to her chest while sliding a hand down her abdomen. Her moans were immediate, and he didn’t cease until he’d pleased her again.