“Beilzen knows how to please me, and more so than Kandel ever could or even tried with all of his manhood intact!”
“Sister, Kandel was your husband. It—”
“But no longer! I can count the times on one hand when he even tried to ensure my satisfaction. Beilzen pleased me more in one night than Kandel did our entire marriage. He was always satisfied and never cared about my needs. He only wanted an heir. When we learned that I couldn’t provide one for him, he discarded me like refuse. I would’ve even accepted one of his bastards from his whores to please him. It wasn’t enough. Four children he sired during our marriage, Sister. Four.”
“I’m sorry. I know that he hurt you, but Beilzen isn’t the answer.”
“How do you know what’s the answer for me? Beilzen isn’t a half-man; that title should belong to Kandel and those of his ilk. Beilzen loves me as I do him. He knows what he lacks physically. Trust when I say: when he touches me, I feel nothing lacking in him at all. Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“I’m trying, truly I am. Beilzen is just—”
“Going to be my husband,” Dalia interrupted.
“What?”
“Yes, we’ve already spoken with Nzuri at length. Once the arrangements are complete, we’re going to be married. I’d planned to tell both you and Symeon together, but now seems the right time.”
“Married?” Her mouth gaped. “Why?”
Dalia laughed. “Because we’re in love. Isn’t that why you married Symeon?”
“Yes, but this isn’t the same.”
“How is our love different from yours? I’m happy, and Fáelán already thinks of me as his mother.” She smiled. “The Guardians have blessed us, Sarai. Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“I—I want you to be happy, truly, but—”
“Then your wish and mine has been fulfilled. It may seem strange to you, but we are happy. I’m going to stay in Nazil and begin a new life, a joyful and blessed life,” Dalia said, embracing her.
Sarai returned the hug, trying desperately to conceal her frustration. Dalia didn’t understand and nothing she seemed to say could change her decision. Her sister did deserve to be happy after being shamed and cast aside.
“I’m happy for you, Dalia.”
“Thank you. I must get to the nursery before Hushar looks for me.”
“Can we speak more about this later?”
“There isn’t anything more to say. I only need you at my side at our ceremony. My life is here in Nazil, Sister. It’s here with you.”
Ghosts
“We’ll visit again soon, Arianna, I promise. Once we have the proper men in place, I’ll be able to escort you to Yarah,” Temian said. “For now, I’m needed here with my family.”
“I’m concerned about my family, Temian. There’s never been such violence and uncertainty in the lands. I need to ensure their safety.”
Temian nodded, but his thoughts were quite different. Being Nazilian caused Arianna to view circumstances and history differently. Though he appeared the same, Temian was half-human, and as such, had a greater understanding of the disparity in the lands.
All of his life he was forced to hide his humanity, to deny what and who he truly was. He had to watch his mother enslaved and tortured, and do nothing to free her from such abuse.
This, Arianna could never understand. She couldn’t identify with others unlike herself. She sympathized with what they endured, but could never truly understand that humiliation and pain from the perspective of those who suffered it…who were still suffering the ramifications of such subjugation and disregard.
This he didn’t fault in his beautiful wife. Her family abhorred the treatment humans received and never treated him as less. They’d taken him into their family and were receptive of his marriage to Arianna. However, he had to ask himself if the same would’ve been true had he looked human, like his brother, Crissu, and not like a Nazilian.
Temian halted. “I’m concerned about them, too. They’re a part of my family, Arianna, and if not for them, I wouldn’t be here with you. We’ll visit soon. I promise.”
Arianna smiled, continuing down the corridor. When they approached where Nakaris stood guard, Temian stopped, looking around curiously.
“Sir Middleton, wasn’t Sir Neufmarche supposed to relieve you?”
“Aye, Sir Benoist, some time ago. It isn’t like Wosen to be late.”
“Indeed,” Temian said, removing his wife’s arm from his. “Arianna, are you able to continue to the nursery? I need to find Wosen.”
“I’ll be fine, we’re nearly there.”
“I’ll come to escort you for noon meal,” he said, kissing her quickly and moving off in the opposite direction.
Pentanimir had charged him to keep watch over Wosen. Until recently, his visits to the cells had all but ceased. However, soon after the attack on the caravan, Wosen had begun becoming distant and started visiting the cells again.
Temian couldn’t imagine the demons that must be battling inside him. He’d been there when Draizeyn and the former council had captured Wosen and ordered his torture. After such horrific treatment, Wosen’s life had changed in incalculable ways.
“I thought that I’d find you here, Wosen,” Temian said, being careful not to startle him.
Wosen stood rigid, staring at the iron door that once led to the dark chamber. The memories of the abuse he’d sustained at Oxilon’s and Yannick’s hands couldn’t be erased by erecting a wall. They were entrenched in Wosen’s heart and mind, corroding every part of him.
Temian didn’t speak again. He observed as Wosen raised a hand to his face, wiping his mouth repeatedly. When his shoulders began to bob, Temian realized that he was weeping.
Wosen took a shaky step forward, haltingly reaching for the steel door, tracing the bars at its top with trembling fingers.
“To all seven hells with you!” Wosen suddenly shouted, pounding a fist on the unrelenting door. He kicked out, throwing his body against the door repeatedly until Temian grabbed his arms, dragging him away.
“Release me! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Wosen spat, reaching for his swords. Temian clutched his wrists, keeping his hands away from his weapons as they scuffled in the dim corridor.
“Wosen! Where’s your mind?” He strained to speak. “It’s me, Temian Benoist. You’re no longer in the cells. You’re free, Wosen, free.”
Wosen let out a feral cry, forcing his head back, and slamming Temian in the face. He released his grip, stumbling back. Before he could regain himself, Wosen threw a left jab, contacting him squarely. He followed with an uppercut, but Temian staggered back dazed, managing a high kick. It was short and clumsily delivered, but it bought him some time.
Wosen dodged right, coming up with his left, spinning into him with fury. Temian crossed his arms in front of him, absorbing the devastating blows. His slowing response cost him, and Wosen immediately delivered a side kick to his ribs. When Temian staggered sideward, Wosen’s motion was a blur, initiating a powerful spinning hook kick across Temian’s chin. He nearly swooned, his head slamming against the wall as swirling dots filled his vision.
“I’ll kill you! All of you!” Wosen shouted, whirling around in the dank and empty corridor.
Temian shook his head, trying to regain his senses. When he opened his swollen eyes, he saw a blurry image of Wosen, coming on in a frenzy. He punched left, and then right in rapid succession.
The sounds escaping his lips were more that of a wounded child than an angered man.
Temian called out to him again, trying desperately to keep ahead of his blows. He didn’t want to hurt Wosen, but if he couldn’t reason with him, it might come to that.
Temian clutched Wosen’s wrists, hoping to end the barrage, but his rage fueled the brutal assault, and he was stronger than Temian could’ve imagined.
Wosen twisted his arm, seizing Temian’s wrists and yanked him down, planting a knee in his face.
“Gods!” Temia
n cried out, staggering back from the blow. When he crashed against the far wall, Wosen was fast approaching with his twin blades. Temian barely had time to unsheathe his own, blocking Wosen’s left sword, and managing a side step and roll, to put more distance between them.
“Wosen!” he called again, dodging left to avoid a double strike.
Wosen gritted his teeth, rotating his right blade while thrusting forward with his left. Temian knew the deception within the move and feigned a crouch, delivering a spinning sweep kick that knock Wosen to the floor.
Wosen lost his spinning blade and tried to compensate with his left, but Temian proved the quicker, assuming a defensive crouch, while batting the sword away. When Wosen moved for his dagger, Temian dove forward, tackling him to the ground.
“I’m not your enemy,” Temian shouted, pinning him down. “I’m your friend,” he said as they wrestled on the floor.
Temian was unrelenting, fighting to remain conscious while keeping Wosen from his weapons. He positioned his arms under his, locking his long fingers behind his neck. Wosen grunted in protest, spraying blood from his mouth.
“I’m your friend,” Temian repeated, softer than before. Their breathing was labored as they continued to scuffle.
Hearing a soft, disembodied voice, Wosen ceased his struggle.
“Please, young one,” Hushar pleaded, rushing down the steps. When Temian looked up at her, she gasped, reaching out to him.
He merely shook his head, motioning down to Wosen.
“Old Mum?” Wosen whimpered. “Old Mum?”
Temian released his hold, allowing him to sit up.
“It’ll be all right, young one. I’m here with you. No one can hurt you now. You’re free, Wosen, all of us are free.”
Hushar cradled Wosen closer, as he wept in her arms.
“It’ll be all right, young one, I promise. I love you.”
“What happened?” Thalassa asked, helping Temian from the floor. “Gods! Your face.”
Temian wiped the blood on his sleeve, peering down at Wosen.
“Ghosts,” he said, resting a hand on Wosen’s’ shoulder. When he met his eyes, Wosen’s mouth gaped, seeing Temian’s condition and knowing that he was the cause.
“You weren’t yourself,” Temian said, helping Hushar up before extending a hand out to Wosen.
“You weren’t yourself,” he reiterated.
After helping Wosen up, Temian took his mother’s hand.
“Mother, can you take Wosen to his chamber? He needs tending.”
“And what about you? I’ll need to take care of you, too, Temian?” Hushar caressed his swollen face.
“I’ll be fine, Mother. Nzuri will take care of me. I need you to take care of Wosen.” He looked at him again. “How did you know to come?”
“Arianna. She told us that Wosen wasn’t at his post and that you were going to find him. Since the attack near Yarah, he’s been talking to me about our time here…in the cells,” Hushar said, gently rubbing Wosen’s back. “The memories lingering here are enough to—” She took a steadying breath. “I should’ve known that he’d be overcome. Allow me to see to him, Temian. Please, I’ll help make him well.”
Temian nodded, knowing that Wosen would need more than her nurturing to heal. His outer injuries had long mended, but the inner ones were the most debilitating.
“Thalassa, could you please have Hibret meet Mother and Wosen in their chamber? I think he’ll have need of her, too.”
Thalassa kissed his cheek, handing him some dry cloth. She was aware of the abuse Wosen had suffered in Nazil. It was fleeing that torture that had brought him to her and the Protectors. Had Wosen not fled from Draizeyn, the Protectors might never have returned to the Animus Wood.
Wosen’s actions had set many events into motion. The wrongs he’d done were the catalyst to Faélondul’s liberation. Being reunited with her family was proof of that. Faélondul was free, and Wosen played no small part in that liberation. She wondered then if he knew of his importance.
Wosen reminded her of the ghosts that haunted them all. And by some means, he must be freed.
Pentanimir stood, pointing to the map on the table. When he was about to speak, the door creaked opened, and he gasped instead.
“Brother!” Pentanimir said, rushing over to him. “What happened? Who did this?”
Temian upraised a hand, accepting Pentanimir’s help to his seat. “It was Wosen.”
“What? Wosen did this?” Danimore asked, disbelieving.
“He wasn’t at his post, so I went looking for him near the cells. When I tried talking to him, he didn’t know who I was. In his mind, he was there…back in the dark chamber.”
“By the gods,” Nzuri said. “Is he still there now? What happened?”
“No. I was able to constrain him, but it wasn’t easy. His mind was gone, and had I not been the better fighter, I’m certain he would’ve killed me.”
“Killed? He drew weapons?” Pentanimir asked.
Temian grimaced as Nzuri manipulated his sore and swollen nose. “After attacking me, yes. I could’ve ended it sooner, but I didn’t want to hurt him. It wasn’t him, wasn’t Wosen.
“I stayed on the defensive, but his aim was true, and I was pressed to stay ahead of him.”
“Zaxson, can we allow him to continue training?” Nzuri asked. “What if Hibret or one of the children had found him? Would he have killed them? That isn’t a risk worth taking.”
“I share your concern,” Pentanimir said. “Wosen must be relieved of his duty and his weapons until we can figure out what to do. Had it been anyone else, I’d put them in the cells, but this is Wosen Neufmarche. Hosdaq’s son.” He shook his head, sighing.
“Wosen suffered horribly at our uncle’s hands, and helped return the Protectors to their home.” He looked over at Temian’s bruised and bloodied face. “We must do something. This offense cannot go unanswered, but what can we do? What’s the appropriate punishment? If it wasn’t truly him, then we must find some way to help him through this without denying him his life.”
“I agree,” Danimore said. “But the safety of our families takes precedence over anything else. Nzuri, is there anything that you can do for him?”
“I’m not certain. There are methods, techniques that allow one mind to interfuse with another. It’s a sort of connection, a window to the subconscious accessible through meditation or advanced sensory development. It’s possible to reach beyond the physical into the recesses of the mind, but we’d need Kuhani for something this complex. I was merely beginning my studies of these methodologies in Bandari.
“It’s a technique called Akilu that the Drah’kuus developed on K’ohshul. As far as I know, it’s practiced only there. If we’re going to truly help Wosen, we must contact Drah’kuu Kuhani.”
“We’ll do whatever we can to help him,” Danimore said. “If that help lies in Spero, mayhaps it’s time for Wosen to return.”
Pentanimir nodded, gazing over at Temian. The blood flow had ceased, but his face was swollen and bruised.
“Is it broken?”
“Yes, Zaxson. In several places,” Nzuri said, gingerly touching Temian’s nose. “I can set the bones, but I’ll need to mix some herbs before making the attempt. After a few stitches, a poultice will reduce the swelling.”
“Please take care of him. I’m going to send a message to Hosdaq. He’ll be pleased to see his son, but not the reason as to why.”
CHAPTER fourteen
Greater Truth
Julaybeim smiled, hearing Gali sing. He crept down to their chamber, peering in at his wife and new daughter. For many long moments, he regarded the two, relishing the joy and completeness they’d brought to him.
“Again, you watch us.”
“How could I not? There’s not a lovelier sight in all of Faélondul than that of my wife and daughter,” he said, sitting beside them. “Did she feed well?”
“She always does,” Gali said, gently patting her back. “Yo
ur daughter has inherited your appetite, I fear.”
He chuckled, caressing Dawntaylesha’s hair-covered head.
“She looks like your mother,” Gali said. “It’s her eyes. Your mother had the most beautiful brown eyes.”
“Not as beautiful as yours.”
Gali regarded him closer, noticing his distant expression. “What has your mind?”
“Dawntaylesha.”
“Thinking about your daughter saddens you?”
“No. You know that.” He sighed. “Dawntaylesha causes me to think about Eytan and Brahanu.”
“I understand, but they’re both safe now. My brother and the Osmonts sent additional sentries to Nazil to assist. The Nazilians are no longer charged with their safety.”
“It isn’t enough, Gali. Brahanu never should’ve been traveling alone with Eytan. Pentanimir was remiss, and we almost lost them both.”
“Pentanimir loves your sister. Didn’t you see his anguish when we were in Yarah? He didn’t want to send her alone, but Brahanu insisted.”
“I don’t doubt that he loves her, I’m questioning his decisions regarding her.”
“Julaybeim, use your mind. Pentanimir relented so that Eytan and Tioch could have time together. Had he his way, they’d remain in Nazil with him and travel only when he does.”
“Why wasn’t he with her? She’s the Zaontras of Nazil, yet receives merely a handful of Nazilian guards to see her safely across the lands.”
“Don’t let your anger claim your senses. Brahanu insisted on a smaller contingent as not to draw attention. There wasn’t any trouble until Molag Bomgaard formed this resistance.”
“Perhaps, but Pentanimir knew about this man and did nothing to protect them. He should’ve escorted Brahanu himself. Hells, half the guard should’ve been protecting that caravan.”
“Julaybeim, the Benoists are pressed from all sides. Pentanimir couldn’t assign half his guard to accompany Brahanu to Cazaal any more than you could to accompany me when I travel to Kaleo. Is this truly what’s bothering you?”
Julaybeim sighed again. “No. It does concern me, greatly, but there’s more.”
Seed of Scorn Page 36
