The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Aaron-Michael Hall

  “I’ll eat what’s left. I’m going to boil some water for wash.”

  She flinched when he reached out for her arm.

  “No, you’re not. I’m not eating alone and you’re not eating scraps like a dog.”

  “But, sir, Danimore, I can’t. I—”

  “While you’re here with me, you’ll eat as I eat. You’ll not stand and watch me satisfy my hunger while you and your babe starve.” Filling another bowl, he set it on the table, nudging her toward the chair. “I’ll warm some more milk for you.”

  Zeta was on the verge of panic. Her stomach churned from hunger, but she couldn’t move.

  “Here you are, some warm milk with honey. That should satisfy your babe and you as well,” he said, taking a seat across from her.

  “This is delicious, Zeta, much better than it was. What did you do?”

  She was hesitant, but the comment made her smile. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone complimented anything that she’d done.

  “There—there’s no magic. You had done most of it yourself. I just added a pinch of spice, milord.”

  “I’ll leave the cooking to you from now on,” he chuckled. “My meals would pale in comparison. Not since my mother have I had such tasty pottage,” he said, finishing his bowl and refilling it. “Would you like some more?”

  “No, thank you.”

  As he lowered to his seat, a loud thumping sounded from the door. Setting his bowl down in frustration, he rose to answer it.

  “Beilzen? To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, facetiously.

  He peered around Danimore, seeing Zeta. “Is that the Zaxson’s slave seated at the table like a guest?”

  Danimore moved forward, forcing him back outside. “Where Zeta rests between her chores isn’t your concern. She’s done what I asked and prepared my meal. Why do you care, Beilzen?”

  “If that’s so, then why is she also partaking in that meal? Neither the Zaxson nor your uncle would be pleased to learn about this. Slaves don’t eat at our tables.”

  Danimore stepped forward, leaning over him. “It isn’t anyone’s concern what I do in my home. The Zaxson gifted Zeta to me. You order your attendants, not mine, son of Perrin. My father allowed our attendants to sup with us. If you’re questioning me, you’re questioning Manifir Benoist, too. Are you certain that’s something that you want to do?”

  “I—I would never question your father. Sir Manifir received the highest honors and—and is revered by all of Nazil. I was only offering a warning. Had it been Sir Oxilon visiting, he wouldn’t be pleased. I’m not questioning—”

  “What do you want, Beilzen? My meal grows cold while you prattle on.”

  He nodded, swallowing hard. “Sir Oxilon sent me to retrieve you. He’s in conference with the Cha Asham and requested your presence.”

  “Requested? I’ll see him after I eat,” Danimore said, slamming the door in his face.

  Shaking his head, he noticed Zeta struggling with a pail. When he rushed forward to grab it, she yelped, stumbling back against the wall. Water splashed over the floor as the pail landed on its side.

  She gasped, immediately lowering to her knees, wiping the puddle with her skirt. “Please, please, forgive me, milord. I—I’ll clean it, please, I didn’t mean to.”

  Danimore was frozen, watching her wiping the same spot. Her dress was soddened as she wept, huddling upon the floor.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Zeta. You didn’t see me coming, and I shouldn’t have grabbed you. I’m the one who’s sorry. Please, get up from there,” he said, helping her to rise. After walking over to the divan, he took a seat beside her.

  “Zeta, I wasn’t trying to frighten you. Once the pails are full, they’re too heavy for you to carry. You’re pregnant and shouldn’t lift such weight. It’s no trouble for me to fill the barrel each morning before I take leave. This way, you can take what you need in smaller amounts, causing no strain.”

  “It’s my duty, milord. I used to fetch water for Lady Denotra, and I’m used to it. I can manage.”

  “Must you always make an argument with me? You’re not serving Lady Denotra. In my home, this duty doesn’t belong to you. I’ll fill the barrel and you can scoop what you need from it. It would be filled now if I hadn’t neglected the duty myself. Mind what I tell you.”

  “Yes, milord. I’ll use what’s left in the barrel to clean, but there isn’t enough to do the washing.”

  “Don’t worry about that now. Use what’s left for your basin so you can wash and change. You’ll catch a chill in that wet dress.” He rose up, attaching his belt and cloak. “I’m going to meet my uncle, but I’ll fetch more water when I return. After you’ve changed, you can prepare the vegetables for the median meal. I’ll stop by the market for more on my way home. You still need to heal, Zeta. There’s more oil on the shelf, and a poultice in soak beside it. Your face yet swells, and I’d like to see your eye fully open. Take care, I’ll return as swiftly as possible.”

  Gift of Sight

  As the sun crested over the treetops, Pentanimir began to stir. Recurring thoughts of Brahanu had kept his sleep at bay. Her words continuously repeated in his mind, just as plainly as when she’d spoken them. She bore no fault, though she felt otherwise. He was the First Chosen and should’ve acted as his position demanded. Honor Above All is their maxim, and he’d betrayed those words.

  What did you see in me that made me worthy of such a gift? When I leave Bandari, my heart will remain with you. I’ll never share it with another. It’s belonged to you since first we met.

  Opening his eyes, he wiped the wariness away, rising from the ground. The fishermen were loading their boats as a light fog wafted across the water. Bandari was beautiful, but with the conflicting maelstrom of emotions inundating him, he couldn’t appreciate that beauty as he once did.

  His gaze rested on Brahanu’s whare. Although his heart urged him to be with her, his mind superseded his desire. With a defeated sigh, he rolled up his bed, tying the rope around it. As he turned, Wosen was feeding the braziers near the hall, and he went to him instead.

  Pentanimir was fond of him and appreciated his love for Nazil. Though he was Hosdaq’s son, only his eyes gave hint to that parentage. Unlike others in the village, Wosen embraced his Nazilian heritage and wanted to become a Chosen. But that was a path that he couldn’t walk, no matter how Pentanimir wished it otherwise.

  “Good morrow.” Wosen smiled. “How was your night?”

  “The night was long, my good friend, long and cold.”

  “Indeed, Bandari’s chill is greater than that of Nazil. Why didn’t you come to our home? It’s been long since I’ve seen you.”

  “I spoke with your father about the same. I didn’t want to disturb your rest, and I’m not traveling alone.”

  “Father told me that we had a visitor.”

  “Yes, she met the others at the evening meal. Why weren’t you there?”

  Wosen’s smile broadened. “I trekked up the path to where my father and Kuhani spar. I’m getting better, you know,” he said, picking up a stick and assuming a defensive posture. “Soon, I’ll be good enough for the Chosen Guard.”

  Dropping his bedroll, Pentanimir grabbed a stick, standing at the ready. He scrutinized Wosen’s stance and his grip on the ersatz sword. With a quick lunge, the wood met, as Wosen parried his strike. Pentanimir returned his smile, as they traded thrusts and parries. Wosen’s form was better, but his movement was still sluggish. Pentanimir allowed an opening, barely parrying the swipe that he knew would follow.

  Tightening his grip, Wosen parried Pentanimir’s next thrust, attempting a glissade. But Pentanimir back stepped, dipping low, ending up at his side. Before Wosen could repost, Pentanimir half-turned, following with a quick balestra.

  “Your speed has improved,” Pentanimir said, and then lunged forward again, wrenching the ersatz sword from Wosen’s hand. “But your form still needs work.”

  Wosen sighed, shaking his head. “
My father hasn’t increased my training. He stresses my use of the bow, regardless of my requests. The Chosen don’t fight with a bow, it’s the Xtabyren that proves their prowess.”

  “Not all Chosen receive the honor of an Xtabyren, Wosen. Just like you, I trained with the bow and still do. It’s a necessary skill to have on the Guard. We strive for the Xtabyren, but it’s not essential to becoming a Chosen.”

  “Not everyone earns one, but the best do. Father doesn’t even allow me to see his. He calls it a weapon of war. It’s like he’s not proud of his people or what he’s achieved.”

  “Give him time, Wosen. Hosdaq has seen and experienced more than either of us. He’s proud of our people, but not what they’ve done. Mayhaps after you’ve mastered the bow, he’ll begin training you more with the sword. However, the Xtabyren is a special weapon. Not all Chosen have earned the privilege to wield one. Give it time and I’m certain that your father will train you. Come now, what chores do you have left?” Pentanimir asked, clapping him on the back.

  “I’m supposed to take some milled grain to the kitchen.”

  Pentanimir nodded, following behind his lead. More villagers began milling about, attending their morning chores. Pentanimir could smell the dawning meal as he watched the village awaken.

  He chuckled when Sahma launched toward him, offering an embrace. He returned the tight hug, while feeling her fingers flittering through his long hair.

  “It’s good to see you, Pentanimir. You can’t leave without me brushing and braiding your hair.” She smiled, drawing him down to kiss his cheek. “Last time, I didn’t get to do it.”

  “I’d trust no other to care for it than you, Sahma, I promise.”

  She nodded, giving Wosen a hug, too, before rushing off to the stable. Pentanimir glanced over at Wosen and the broad smile that he wore. Wosen was tall and slender like his father, but with thick, brown curls and sun kissed skin, he had the appearance of a human. His father had left Nazil to marry his mother, Esme. After she passed giving birth to their daughter, Hosdaq remained with his children and friends in Bandari. Pentanimir envied his life and mourned it at the same time. Hosdaq was an honorable man, yet the years alone had left him bitter.

  “Pentanimir!” Hibret yelled. “You must come.”

  He whipped around, watching her swift approach. “What’s happened? Are your parents all right?”

  “It’s Brahanu; she’s not well. I’m going to get Nzuri and Kuhani, but she’s asked for you. Hurry,” she said, rushing to the temple.

  Pentanimir blanched, unable to respond. After regaining himself, he ran toward the whare with Wosen at his side.

  Hosdaq’s brow creased, noticing the commotion. When his son neared, he called out to him.

  “Yes, Father?” Wosen asked.

  “Where are you headed? Is there something wrong?”

  “I was going with Pentanimir. Hibret said that his friend is ill and she’s going to get Nzuri and Kuhani.”

  “Truly,” Hosdaq said, stifling a smile. “Mayhaps you should inform the Elders and I’ll check on our guest.”

  Wosen sighed. “Yes, Father.”

  Hosdaq adjusted his cloak, staring over at the whare. Could it be the child? If it were, Pentanimir wouldn’t be conflicted. He’d return to Nazil, and meet his obligations , he thought, taking a step forward. When he felt the light touch on his shoulder, he nearly jumped.

  “Os—Osmara,” he stammered.

  “Pardons, Elder, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was wondering if you’d like to escort me to the hall? The meal is almost ready.”

  Hosdaq smiled, raising her hand to his lips. “I’d like to attend, but I need to visit our guest. Could you go by my home and take Malkia?”

  “Yes, Elder. It would be my pleasure.”

  Pentanimir lowered to his knees, caressing Brahanu’s face. Although sweat dotted her brow, her skin felt cool and clammy. “Brahanu,” he whispered. “Are you all right?”

  “Forgive me, Pentanimir. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want to be without you, but I understand. You’re right, and I shouldn’t have behaved as I did.”

  “There’s no fault: not now or at the falls. Your god of love brought you to me, and you’ll never leave my heart.”

  “My heart would wither if you weren’t a part of it.

  “What we face now won’t always be. The gods are good, and they’ll not leave us,” he said, leaning down for a kiss.

  “Elders,” Nzuri said, entering with Hosdaq and Huname. “Is this young lady special to Pentanimir? I thought that he brought her here for safety.”

  “He did, good Nzuri,” Hosdaq said. “There’s nothing more to tell.”

  “Forgive me, Hosdaq, but that wasn’t a kiss of friendship,” Nzuri said.

  Hosdaq waved dismissively. “The young lady has fallen ill, and he’s worried about her. We know Pentanimir’s heart. His concern extends to all the lands, especially those under his care. Is such a sight a thing of wonder?”

  “Has someone offended you, Hosdaq?” Huname asked.

  “Elder?”

  “Has there been offense? You seemed determined to disparage or disregard their relationship. It’s not for us to decide their road or how they walk upon it. Denying this truth doesn’t render it void. It will be, regardless of your cavil.”

  “Cavil! You dare—”

  “I speak truth, Hosdaq. You used to value the same not long ago.”

  “Elders, please,” Nzuri said, motioning to the door. “The bell tolls for the morning meal. Allow me to tend to our guest while you break your fast. I’ll send word of her condition soon.”

  “Elders, there’s much to discuss,” Vot began, peering down the table. “Is Hosdaq not joining us?”

  Huname shrugged. “I left him not long ago as Nzuri tended Brahanu. Matters of such importance need all of our voices. I hope that I didn’t offend him by speaking the truth.”

  “Truth is always preferred to giving false counsel,” Vot said. “It isn’t always received with gratitude at first hearing, but as words have time to penetrate, their legitimacy can no longer be repudiated.”

  “What about those who know the truth, yet refuse to accept it?” Emet asked.

  “There are those who won’t accept the truth simply because they don’t wish it. But that doesn’t change what is or what will soon be. Such attitudes only cause division and confusion where harmony should reside. We’re tasked as leaders of sorts, and it’s our example and guidance the others follow. This folly of Hosdaq’s can’t continue. We must remain unified and focused if we’re to protect our families and home.”

  “I pray so,” Emet said. “These recent revelations are paramount to our survival. Doesn’t Hosdaq realize that?”

  “Mayhaps it’s time to pose that question to him,” Vot said, gesturing toward the door.

  Hosdaq entered the room wearing nearly a scowl. As he swaggered down the long aisle, he nodded from side to side, returning pleasantries to those who offered them. Standing tall and straight, he clasped his hands behind his back, keeping his head held high. The freshly polished leather boots he wore matched his cloak, which was adorned with a gold broach that likewise matched his tunic with its fine black scrollwork on the front. Inclining his head, he took his seat, thanking the young maids who brought his meal.

  “Elder Hosdaq, you’re dressed for ceremony. Had we known, mayhaps we could’ve donned our fine garb as well,” Vot said, raising his cup.

  “This is a day of special significance, I’m told. I believe the fate of everyone in Bandari hangs upon the feeblest of filaments and the shifting lusts of a young man’s loins. Such important affairs deserve the appropriate attire and attention,” Hosdaq said, popping a piece of bread in his mouth.

  “Do you mock these issues?” Olam asked.

  “Elders, I do not mock. I’ve given our circumstances careful consideration. It’s the importance of this day and its decisions that demanded such honor. We can only hope that our guests understand the
consequences of those decisions. Being led by our hearts usually leads to ruin, but when we allow reason and logic to lead, the outcome is more desirable. We must give wise counsel, despite our predilection for the amatory. It isn’t our place to instruct, but we are meant to guide.”

  “Indeed,” Huname said. “We are here to guide. Everyone in Bandari has the right to choose. Each of us made a choice long ago to begin a new life here. That wasn’t due to force or coercion, nor can anyone force us from here.”

  “No, Elder, on that you’re mistaken.” Hosdaq smirked. “Yes, we decided to build here after Hyorin was destroyed, but are we not seeking a new home now? Is this due to our choice? No. We’re being forced from our home by the choice of another. No one wants to leave our home, and we haven’t willingly decided to do so. So, we’re leaving not from choice, but out of necessity and self-preservation. Ofttimes we need to do what’s necessary, above what’s preferred.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Emet said. “To preserve what we’ve built, it might become necessary to abandon our home. Although, some might choose to remain in Bandari, and it would be their right to do so. We don’t force or forbid, Elder. The Hosdaq of past seasons, the one I admired would know this.”

  Hosdaq’s head snapped up, and Emet continued. “Elder, we aren’t minimalizing your concerns. All our fates are intertwined. However, this decision isn’t ours. Olam’s visions have revealed more than what Brahanu and Pentanimir know. Allow them the same curtesy that was afforded to you. Allow them to choose.”

  Pentanimir remained kneeling when the door creaked open. He held Brahanu’s hand to his chest, watching the rhythm of her breathing. She seemed comfortable now and free from pain. He smiled wistfully, dabbing her forehead again, and moistening her lips.

  “How’s Brahanu?” Nzuri asked, entering with the Elders.

  “She’s resting peacefully now,” Pentanimir said. “I gave her the tincture when she awakened not long ago. Since your leave, her stomach has calmed, and the pain lessened.”

  Brahanu nodded weakly as he approached the bed.