Seed of Scorn

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  When they set camp near the tree line, Qaradan inspected the area carefully, as he always did. After years of scouting and serving as a sentry in Zradiir, he knew the best areas to camp and those to avoid. With the rogues and banditti stalking the main roads, one had to be cautious, especially when traveling with women. He set his usual traps and kept watch most of the night while Esmel slept. However, when the moon surrendered to the sun, the brightest ray shone on a basket tucked beneath a bush. Nurisha’s basket.

  They couldn’t offer much information regarding her birth parents or home, just that they were traveling from Zradiir to Kalvgah and found Nurisha along the way. Esmel had recently lost their third child before they’d decided to make the trek. She’d enjoyed her tenure as a teacher, but there were too many memories in Zradiir, too many reminders of hurts and disappointments. When they found Nurisha abandoned, they felt the gods were blessing them and their new start. Nurisha had never visited Matryohn Wood, though she’d promised herself that she would. There might be answers there, and she intended to find them.

  With that, she glanced down at her wrist again, sliding her fingertips over the raised, jagged mark. It looked more like a strike of lightning than anything else…a peculiar mark that matched the color of her one pale grey eye.

  She sighed then, pushing up from the table. Those answers would have to wait.

  Nurisha removed her tunic and lifted the smoking pan from the fire. She did her best to clear her recent thoughts and focus on her chores. When she opened the door, she could hear Qaradan arguing with another neighbor about prices. They didn’t need the extra coin, but he wasn’t working for free, either.

  “Folks don’t value what they don’t earn, ‘Risha. You don’t have to charge ‘em a lot, but charge ‘em something. A man feels more a man when he’s earning his keep,” she thought, recalling Qaradan’s words.

  Waving the billowing smoke from her face, Nurisha stepped down to her worktable. After scooping a ladle of roasted fenugreek from the pan, she sprinkled it in a large bowl of wild mallow and olive oil. As Nurisha continued to mix the sticky concoction, she gazed out at their ploughed fields. The new planting season was fast approaching, and Aljoša would be at the farm more often. Although he helped her Da in the smithy, during the planting and harvest, he spent more time with her. She wouldn’t admit it, but she enjoyed being with him more each season. She smiled at that, spreading the fenugreek mixture over her arms and face.

  “You don’t need to be putting that stuff on to keep me away. All you have to do is say so.”

  She suppressed her smile, turning around to face Aljoša. “I’ve said so more than once. How’d that work out?”

  “Well, you didn’t really mean it then,” he said, leaning down to kiss the one clear spot on her cheek. “Besides, it’d take more than that to keep me away. Not even your Da could do that.”

  “It didn’t appear that way a fortnight ago.” She chuckled. “I’ve never seen anyone run so fast. Tell me: how’d you get your face to change color like that? It was paler than last winter’s hard rime.”

  He joined in her mirth, removing his baldric and jerkin. His smooth, almond-colored skin glistened in the sun’s light, and she did her best not to notice. Aljoša dipped his hands in the bowl, rubbing the mixture down his chest and abdomen.

  “Can you put some on my back?” he asked.

  She looked up, examining every inch of him. His corded muscles flexed, and she followed the alluring curve down his back, admiring the perfect fit of his trews. Licking the dryness from her lips, she cleared her throat, turning back to the table. “You don’t need any on your back, or anywhere else for that matter. I don’t want you going near my bees. I swear: you and Da are worthless when it comes to such things. Haven’t you been stung enough?”

  He shrugged. “Just helping out where I can. Besides, Chäna was asking ‘bout the honey mead.”

  “You tell Ms. Chäna that I’ll be adding a few casks to her regular delivery soon. It needs a bit more time before it’ll be ready. Don’t worry,” she said, grabbing a pail from the ground. “You’ll have your mead and some roast boar, too, if you’re feeling up to a hunt.”

  “I’ve been practicing, you know?”

  “I hope so, ‘Joša. Maybe you won’t scare away our meal this time.”

  “Ain’t no one as good as you with a bow, ‘Risha, but I’ll be making the next kill.”

  “That so? How about you tell Da that I need you for a bit. After I check on my bees, we’ll head into Shade Fall. Just remember: if you make the kill, you prepare the meal.”

  “I can find my way ‘round a kitchen well enough. Chäna and Aemar made sure of that.”

  “Better sharpen your skinning knife, then,” she said, walking away. “And put your clothes back on.”

  Shytahn

  Alyelu fastened the clasp on his claret cassock, stepping over to the hearth. A chill hung heavy in the air as the last of the embers glowed dimly within its stone encasement.

  “Mocheentáe,” he whispered, extending out his right hand. The symbol on his wrist glowed, sending a jagged, flaming stream down through his fingertips.

  The embers ignited, their orange and red flares leaping up and surrounding him before lowering back into the hearth.

  He basked in the warmth, relishing the heat of the flames while reciting a prayer of supplication.

  Alyelu was the Shytahn and most powerful of the Nyola priests. His tower was constructed on the northern edge of Falmehdorn, with his upper room facing the Nyusi Mountains.

  For the past two decades, he’d headed the Nyola Order, gaining more prominence within the kingdom and beyond. Even the Premier, Radič Burián, sought his counsel and unique abilities. With Alyelu’s elevation came power, and he utilized his position to further his own ambitions, not those of the Order.

  “Pardons, Shytahn Alyelu,” Veselin said, as he knocked and entered the room.

  “I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Pardons, Shytahn. We’ve received a message from Varrnas.”

  “Why would that concern me?”

  “You’d ordered us to report any sighting of the beast, and we’ve received word of an attack.”

  Alyelu turned, his amber eyes flaring. “In Varrnas? When?”

  “It’s not certain, Shytahn, but the sighting was reported by several people.”

  “Who sent the message?”

  “Overseer Deòir.”

  He nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. “Leave me.”

  “Yes, Shytahn,” Veselin bowed, exiting the chamber.

  Alyelu moved to the window, opening the wooden shutters. He stared out over the vast city, and then beyond to his former home, Cyrehn. When his gaze rested on the Nyusi Mountains, his eyes narrowed, an inscrutable sensation encompassing his soul.

  “Varrnas?”

  “Is it the one you seek?” Zaharija asked, entering from a side room.

  “It’s doubtful, but I’ll send some men to investigate.”

  “These sightings can’t be a coincidence, Alyelu. It’s been years and we’ve heard little. Now, the reports arrive nearly every full moon. This could be the one.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, taking a seat at the table. “But there’s been no evidence of that. Esuhnd has an intimate connection with the beast. If it was near, I’d sense something more from him.”

  Zaharija came up behind him, massaging Alyelu’s broad shoulders. “Allow me to speak with Esuhnd. He might be more forthcoming if handled with a gentler touch. A hot bath and a good meal might weaken his resolve. I’m certain he tires of the hard bread and sour wine. If you’d consent, a bed as well. In better spirits and health, you might receive that which you desire.” He smiled. “Just as I have.”

  “Have you?” Alyelu turned around to face him, removing his hands from his shoulders. “Is that all you desire, Zaharija? Are you so easily appeased?”

  “That appeasement is temporary, and always at your behest.”
r />   He grinned. “I’ll allow it. Esuhnd’s worth depends upon his cooperation.”

  “Cooperation? It’s been years.”

  “I don’t need him to reveal the location to me. I only need his mind to weaken enough so I can enter it. Pain and starvation have done little. Perhaps your methods would prove more useful. He’s a handsome specimen, isn’t he?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Zaharija said, turning away.

  “Truly? Your lust has been evident since first I permitted you access to his cell. Do you think that you can deceive me?”

  Zaharija cried out, grasping his temples, overcome by the intensity of Alyelu’s psionic probe. He crumpled to his knees, screaming in agony. “Forgive me! Please, forgive me!”

  “I’d thought you’d learned your lesson the last time, Zaharija. I take no pleasure in reminding you of your place, or your inferiority. I rather enjoy your company.” Alyelu removed the stopper on a ewer, pouring a glass of wine as Zaharija continued to writhe on the floor.

  “After you’ve recovered, you’ll see to our guest and attend him properly. If the beast has emerged, it must be found. It’s the key to the lost city, and the beginning of the awakening.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Chaween

  Nurisha shifted the pack to her other shoulder as she crossed the bustling town square. Chaween’s cabin was on the far edge of Kalvgah near Clear Creek. She recalled when she’d first visited the elderly apothecary and learned about the significance of the creek’s name. It appeared that every wood, river, tributary, and mountain had a lengthy story behind its naming. Couldn’t just be called Clear Creek because it’s clear, she thought, acknowledging townsfolk as she passed.

  Many were setting up for the day’s market or tending to their chores. Unlike Qaradan, Nurisha rose with the sun every morning. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t. Qaradan preferred to sleep longer, avoiding any early comer to the smithy. Not her. She’d have his breakfast made and the animals fed before he’d even turned over in bed.

  Nurisha smiled at the thought. She took care of him as much as he did her. She didn’t want to think of the possibility of ever losing him. He was all she had, and she’d stay with him just as she’d promised her mother.

  “‘Risha!”

  She halted as she heard the call. Recognizing the caller, she resumed her pace.

  “‘Risha!”

  She sighed, turning to meet Druehox’s grinning face.

  “Hey ‘Risha, where you off to?” he asked, tethering his horse to a post.

  “Don’t call me that,” she said, walking away.

  “All right, sorry. I thought you’d like it.”

  She rolled her eyes, increasing her already fast pace.

  “We’re getting together at the inn later to celebrate my brother’s name day. Ale is on me.” He patted the coin purse on his belt, flipping his long, blonde hair to his back. “How’d you like to be my special guest?”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, come on now, ‘Rish…Nurisha. No hard feelings. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  “There’s nothing to make up, and I’d rather cover myself with honey and lie in the Sand Sea than sit and drink with you.”

  His smile broadened, gazing at her from toe to head. “We could do that, too. Can I spread the honey?”

  Nurisha scowled, delivering an uppercut that made him cry out, doubling over in pain.

  “Gods! What was that for?”

  “You’ve had that coming and then some. Better leave me be or there’s more where that came from.”

  “Nurisha, wait. All right, maybe I had that coming…maybe.”

  She glared at him, adjusting her pack again.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I’m going to Chaween’s.”

  “Mind if I walk with you? I’ve barely seen you lately. Well, not since the tournament.” He smirked. “Shame you missed that shot.”

  “I didn’t miss the shot, Druehox. Whether you’ll admit it to anyone else doesn’t matter. We both know what happened, and it had nothing to do with my aim.”

  “You can’t expect to win every time, now, can you? There’s always next season. We’ll see if you can beat me then.”

  “Beat you? I’d need but one eye and two fingers to do that.”

  “Couldn’t tell that by your ranking last time. Second place is good, too, just not as good as first.”

  She paused, wanting nothing more than to plant her fist right between his grinning lips. Had he not shot her with his slingshot before she loosed the arrow, she wouldn’t have missed. She never missed. The more she thought about that, the tighter her hands balled into fists. But Qaradan had already warned her about Druehox. Regardless of anything else, he was the Overseer’s son, and Nurisha didn’t want to make any trouble for her father.

  Druehox was a smug churl who wouldn’t have given her the time of day had she wanted his attention. Since the opposite was true, his advances bordered on stalking. Every night, he appeared to have a different woman’s company. They doted and sniffed behind him as if he was the ruler of the twelve kingdoms.

  Druehox wasn’t a bad-looking fellow, either. In fact, many found him handsome. He was tall with broad shoulders and a toned build. His long, golden hair was always neatly woven into a thick braid, styled so that parts of it flowed down his shoulders. His hair was reminiscent of graceful, glistening waves rolling over a perfect sand hill on the beach. Not that she’d really noticed.

  Those eyes of his might’ve been attractive if he weren’t always staring at her lasciviously. They were his best features, and happened to be her favorite color: a beautiful, rich emerald with magnificent golden flecks. Too bad they were wasted on someone like him.

  “What do you want, Druehox? I need to see Chaween.”

  “Come now, Nurisha, you know what I want…what I’ve always wanted.”

  When he noticed her hand lower to the dagger nestled in her belt, he raised his hands up innocently.

  “I’d just like to walk with you and talk, nothing more. Besides, I need a poultice for my mother.”

  “Fine. You can walk with me, but you don’t need to talk. In fact, don’t.”

  He smiled, coming up beside her. “So, do you want to meet me tonight? Everyone will be there, and you never come out with us.”

  “I thought I told you NOT to talk.”

  “‘Risha,” he said, gripping her elbow. “I’m sorry, all right, I’m sorry. You should’ve won the tournament. There, I said it.”

  “Yes, you said it to me, not to your father or the judges.”

  “You just expect me to tell my father that I cheated? Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t want you to do anything but shut up. You wanted to win and you won. End of story. The great Druehox Tomić doesn’t have to abide by the rules, isn’t that right? You just make them up as you go along. It doesn’t matter who you step on or push aside. So, don’t come to me feigning some type of interest. You only want what you can’t have, just like the tournament.”

  “Nurisha?”

  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. You can walk with me, but I don’t have to listen to you.”

  The bells jingled as Nurisha pushed open the door to the shop. An immediate smile found Chaween’s wizened face as she peeked over her spectacles. She closed the leather-bound book she was perusing, grabbing her staff, and pushing up to her feet.

  “Ma-ween,” Nurisha said, moving forward to embrace her.

  “My sweet ‘Risha. Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Can’t you come and visit an old woman from time to time?”

  Nurisha giggled, leaning down to kiss her cheek. When she met Chaween’s eyes, she noticed the milky film covering them. It had been nearly a month since she’d seen her, but she appeared to have aged a year in that time.

  Nurisha couldn’t recall Chaween being any other way, but not her eyes. Even when she was a child, Chaween appeared ag
ed. From what Qaradan had told her, she was one of the first denizens of Kalvgah. She’d lived in the same little cabin with her potions and elixirs. The town grew and continued to build around her, leaving her small tract of land untouched. With that thought, Nurisha gently gripped Chaween’s elbow, helping her to one of the rocking chairs near a table full of phials and philters.

  Chaween hadn’t merely been an apothecary; she’d begun instructing Nurisha as well. It began with learning about herbs and healing, and then escalated to more spiritual, metaphysical, and sensory abilities. She could sense Chaween’s weariness and her love.

  “I’m sorry, Ma-ween. I should visit more often. The smithy has been busy, and Da has increased my training.”

  “It’s ‘bout time. Your old Da is as stubborn as my mule. I told him myself ‘bout that keen eye of yours. It ain’t just for hunting, ya know. It’s special, just like you’re special.” She smiled again, caressing Nurisha’s cheek with a soft, wrinkled hand.

  “You’re the special one, Ma-ween, and I promise to visit more often. I’ll sit with you a while today if you have time.”

  “I always have time for you. There’s much for us to discuss.”

  Nurisha’s brow knitted, staring into her eyes. The same kindness she’d always projected was there, but there was more: an imperceptible foreboding or trepidation. She couldn’t discern which. Chaween’s aura usually emitted the warmest of energies. Something was different, and she couldn’t sense her essence as distinctly as she always had.

  Before she could respond, Druehox cleared his throat. “Pardon, Chaween, my mother is in need of one of your poultices.”

  “Is that so? All right, young Druehox, I’ve got some in soak now. Tell me what ails your mum and I’ll get what you need.”

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Nurisha was before me.”

  Chaween waved dismissively. “No worries. I’ll get what you need so that you can get back to your mum. Then I can visit with ‘Risha for a bit.” She smiled at her again, squeezing Nurisha’s hand. “Think you can fix us some tea so we can talk, my dear?”