11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 6

Subsequently, long after his firstborn's ignominious death, Zakhertan had thoroughly investigated all happenstances from varied perspectives and scrutinized even the remotest incidents (episodes) that could have given rise to his son’s shocking defiance; meanwhile, seeking any explanation to forgive his son and to absolve himself from least blame. He had even considered the possibility that his beloved son had gone temporarily insane, had suffered a medical mental affliction (episode) or injury that had resulted in his irrational, deplorable behavior.

Nevertheless, Qijerrik consequent unfilial breach could not be minimized (disputed) or denied; after considering this at present once more, Zakhertan shook his head and again hardened his heart. Qijerrik when captured and brought in chains before him (Zakhertan) to account for his crimes, though altered in personality, had been perfectly resolute and of sound mind. Zakhertan recalled with perfect clarity each nuance and subtlety of affectation, moreover, every brazen discord (articulated dissent) of that day when Qijerrik stood adamantly defiant despite his obvious grave injuries.

01- -QIJERRIK YOZDEK IN CHAINS

 Zakhertan gritted his teeth while the muscles on his face went taut (rigid, tense, tightened), just as it had done then, his heart in the throes of extreme emotional turmoil- observing (witnessing) his son’s  stoic bravely, hearing his son’s defiant responses to his culpable (accusatory), damning analyses and sadistic demands, never giving an inch, shackled and seriously wounded as he were beneath his armour (breastplate, chainmail), result of his prior gallant skirmish with the elite force!

Incredibly, even after all this time, despite all that had passed (transpired), Zakhertan still held deep affection for his firstborn son and he still yearned deep within the crevices of his soul, to have Qijerrik standing by him, as he had once done. Zakhertan had given him the single, unheard of until then, chance to repent, to explain his actions and to beg absolution from him (his Sovereign father). Though, Zakhertan had known all too well, that the offer of leniency was wasted on the son after his own heart. Predictably, Qijerrik had remained unrelenting and defiant until the bitter- end.

"I gladly welcome death (be freed by death) and decent into the debts of Hell than intake another breath and persist (live) under the noxious grid (net) of your tyrannical rule!"

 Those caustic words, then to present, were forever etched in (scarred, burned in) Zakhertan Yozdek’s heart and still pained him. At the time seeing red (enraged), Zakhertan’s fury had just exploded.

"Your death shall not come that easy."  In a blinding rage (not seeing his son), he had descended upon the insolent, shackled prisoner and, drawing his sword severed, in lightning strike, Qijerrik’s right arm above the elbow; but with incredible self-control he had stayed his blade, desisting the urge of cutting Qijerrik’s throat and in a sweeping motion amputating both of his (son’s) legs above the knee.  

02-ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (68)

Qijerrik for a moment or two had fought hard to remain conscious as the stump of his severed arm, the severed artery, sprayed blood all over Zakhertan’s chest and on the guards who flanked him. Nevertheless, fuelled by indignation, for he possessed the same fiery temperament as Zakhertan, Qijerrik’s voice thence, thundered with his wrathful curses directed at his father, till his strength gradually but assuredly waned.

Zakhertan, his fury only satiated by the spilling of blood, consequently, in lightening speed sheathing his sword and then simultaneously withdrawing his dagger from his inner garment, grabbed the tongue of his son and cut out the offensive organ at the root.

His son, by this act, would be silenced forever, so he had thought. But those eyes, those hateful, burrowing eyes spoke louder than any battle cry. The look had extricated (wrenched) Zakhertan’s soul out from his body, then inexplicably plunged (plummeted, drawn) into the debts of those blazing blue eyes of Qijerrik’s; Zakhertan thus helplessly mesmerized, held captive (caged) by the force of it, had endured Qijerrik’s heaped on silent recriminations-making Zakhertan feel like an abhorred monster and worse, making him suffer (experience) the effects of his actions had had on others.

Zakhertan could have well tolerated (stomached, endured) all blame and that penetrating glare of loathing; but then his son’s eyes had unexpectedly softened and had insufferably next, got suffused with a deep, profound pity for Zakhertan, before Qijerrik succumbed to loss of blood and his eyelids dropped! That did it!

At that moment, unbridled fury had again exploded in Zakhertan for, “how dare his son, so abjectly pity him?”  Anew his heart turned to stone; Zakhertan had barked his orders to the guards to get the traitor Qijerrik out of his sight at once. His death, however, would not be so swift.

03- INFURIATED ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (16) JP

The guards understanding Zakhertan’s unspoken command, had hauled Prince Qijerrik to the darkest of dungeons, had his wounds cauterized, and then had the prince chained to the far wall. Once a day Qijerrik was force-fed to keep him alive, for Zakhertan still demanded repentance from his son and if necessary, it would be extracted by torture. Subsequent days, the rebellious forces bereft of his leadership, had been one by one, swiftly, and methodically rooted out and vanquished; and in less than two months every whimper of rebellion had been crushed.  

Every generation of Scholars’ families down to the extended members, servants, associates as well as, all other suspected sympathizers were one and all, rounded up and publicly executed throughout the Kingdom. Many villages and rural towns which had lent support to the Scholar rebels had been raised, incinerated and every life within them snuffed out of existence. Their severed, blood-soaked heads were hoisted on pikes over city gates or in village squares where the eyes were picked clean by crows and the empty sockets formed nests for maggots. Left there indefinitely to rot and stink, they served as a grim reminder, a deterrent, and a warning to all dissidents.  

Each day for well over a month, Prince Qijerrik chained and immobile, had spent long, agonizing hours, being kept appraised of the most recent atrocious and ghastly reprisals exacted (meted out) on his once compatriots.  

 Zakhertan had hoped that the self-recrimination alone, at all the suffering Prince had caused, would force Qijerrik to see the error of his ways and beg, by whatever means he could, Zakhertan's forgiveness. Only then swift death would be bestowed on the prince, along with the granting of full funerary rights. The alternative, Zakhertan let Qijerrik know, was to be kept in the dungeon indefinitely, to undergo sporadic tortures then be left to rot until his corpse would be tossed into the moat below like that of a common criminal. Qijerrik, defiant to the end, had, however still found a way to cheat Zakhertan of the pleasure of his demise (death). At the beginning of the second month of his incarceration, after eating normally for two days to build his strength and lull the guard's suspicions, he had taken advantage of the brief period when the shift changed and, gathering all his bodily strength, had swung his skull backwards with all his force against the wall he was shackled to.  Prince Qijerrik had always been a stalwart (strapping) young man and even in this weakened state, it had taken only one attempt to shatter his skull and therefore end his existence.

Both shifts of guards, finding out what had happened and fearing Zakhertan’s wrath, fell upon their swords and immediately ended their life. The news of his son's suicide had at first infuriated Zakhertan Yozdek, but the more he thought about it, the more he admired his son's resolve and courage despite himself. Though misguided, his son’s stubborn defiance right up to the end had earned Qijerrik, Zakhertan’s lasting esteem and deep eternal love, for being such a true warrior. Breaking his own rule of law, Zakhertan had taken Qijerrik’s remains and had them buried beside those of his mother Lady Elin, in the Royal Tombs; however, the corpse of Prince Qijerrik still received no funerary rites.

04-ZAKHERTAN YOZDEK 78

Zakhertan’s heart from then on had grown even colder still, for he had after all, lost the only person who had mattered to him in life. He had since then been, figuratively speaking, dead to the world. He had allowed himself no attachments and had taken solace only in wars, with murder and mayhem (pandemonium, havoc) being his constant companions; however, none of that had satiated his voracious, predatory soul’s gripe (or lament). His heart, already turned to chunk of ice and caged in an iron chest, had only last year, though hesitantly, had begun to thaw. Zakhertan’s thoughts at present reluctantly turned to Crown Prince Herleif, he speculated whether he had unfairly shunned his second son, born three years after Qijerrik to the same mother Lady Elin.

The two Princes could not have been more different. Prince Herleif was so vastly inferior to the firstborn, that it was hard for Zakhertan to believe Qijerrik shared the (same chromosome, gene pool,) same gene (genetic factor, DNA, RNA) with such a sorry specimen. Lately however, Zakhertan’s feelings about Herleif had been mixed and his heart at times had been tinged with small measure of guilt, for he knew deep down in the crux of his conscience being that he was partly to be blamed for those ill-gotten results. Hadn't he after all desired this outcome in Herleif, this weakling, the bane of his life, and took corresponding (apt) measures all along to perpetuate it? Yes, over the years he had followed his son's failings and his sorry progress, assured that no danger would arise from him but, unlike Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan of Korion, Herleif had not faked his incompetence.

05- YOSHIKAN SOUSING NOKUZUK BINCHAN   (44)JP

Zakhertan thence (from that time on) having changed his mind had subjected his second son to rigorous (arduous) training; try as he might however, after numerous failings and some physical injuries, Prince Herleif had proven absolutely that he had no knack for civil or military calling. He was a dismal failure and a bitter disappointment for one such as Zakhertan Yozdek. Unlike his late elder brother Qijerrik, Prince Herleif was not agile enough, lacked zeal, lacked compassion and benevolence, lacked stamina, courage, wisdom, and skill. Even the most stringent, rigorous training that would have otherwise transformed an ordinary being into a semi-competent commander or an acceptable soldier (warrior), missed its mark in Herleif; he was, at best, a mediocre fighter, and a dismally incompetent supervisor. Nor was this his only failing, prince Herleif was miserly and lacked imagination and foresight; he had failed to apply his extensive schooling in strategy into practice and so was also a failure as a tactical commander in the field. Sovereign Zakhertan had learned this lesson at cost of thousands of good fighting men and a near loss of a province; fortunately, the timely intervention from Prince Herleif’s replacement, a much abler Commander Zifel, had rectified the situation and secured the province. Zakhertan had never been able to forgive his second son Herleif for this terrible blunder and disgrace. Even after his banishment to a remotest province as Governor, much more suffering had been readied for him. In fact, it was only due to the sudden demise of Zakhertan’s third son, Prince Kendar that Herleif's life had been spared at all.  

Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek robbed of any other adolescent male heirs, had reluctantly recalled (summoned) Prince Herleif back to the Capital Channing. This was of course a temporary measure, as Zakhertan had estimated that now Crown Prince Herleif might last just long enough till a pegged, more capable offspring was born to him (Zakhertan). For some time unfortunately, fate had denied Zakhertan this fundamental right; after the accidental death of Prince Turin Yozdek at the age of three (born to Lady Idona Yozdek), then the sudden demises at infancy of both the Prince Chucek (born to Lady Shayen Yozdek) and Prince Kureing (born to Lady Yinnis), Zakhertan had furtively next hung all his hopes on Prince Magnian, who’d fortunately had survived and was presently, five years old. Zakhertan fists had momentarily clenched then let go, as he had thought how opportunely, fate had given him one more chance to redeem his mistakes. This time he would take care not to repeat Qijerrik’s morose ending, Zakhertan inwardly vowed. He would, furthermore, ascertain that no undue or adverse influences be thrust upon Magnian in an unguarded moment and that, his training and education be far stricter and all encompassing. Though Prince Magnian was just five years old, he had been already showing signs of a great promise, much like Qijerrik.

06- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (91) AND LADY SEJON

Lady Sejon, as the mother of Prince Magnian, at present enjoyed Zakhertan’s special favors; she was after all, voluptuous, well endowed, beautiful young girl of twenty-two years of age, with honey-colored eyes and long, wavy, raven black hair. Besides being astute and quite ambitious, she was also the beloved niece of Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren; Zakhertan would therefore, tolerate her just a little while longer, while same time, keep an eye to make sure of curbing her influence. And then, Zakhertan grinned venomously, knowing the fate, regardless of circumstance, that awaited his lovely consort.

Zakhertan’s deliberations were interrupted just then by a cheerful chorus of chirps from the shallow pool in the garden outside his window. He absently watched, as the pair of songbirds drank, dipped their bodies into the water and then, flapped their wings to shake off the excess moisture. Zakhertan elucidated (interpreted) their ablutions (ritual cleansing) as a utilitarian exercise, much like the troops bathing after a long march (and before a victorious battle); turning, he glimpsed at the guard waiting woodenly all this time for his command.

"Very well, have him come in."   

The guard responded sharply and within seconds the expendable Crown Prince Herleif was ushered into the room.

 

                                                                                            ~

 

(END OF SECTION 6) 

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 5

    

Zakhertan, turning his attention back on the task at hand, glowered (looked daggers) at the fourth stack of documents on his desk needing his perusal, he impatiently tapped his fingers on the desk and hissed. “Always the same… “    

Reluctant to begin, Zakhertan with disdain briefly watched the dancing flames of the brazier as Neru typically feed them, before reflecting on Lenny Sukzor’s latest submitted report on the covert and highly illegal activities of Egil Viggoaries. The slight discrepancy between Lenny’s and the subsequent information tendered by Juyin, the lovely wife of Lenny Sukzor’s, on her husband's activities, caused Zakhertan to frown.

01- JUYIN SUKZOR (3)JP

 The two statements varied slightly on one minute detail; an irregularity so feeble that another in his stead might have entirely missed it. Should he be concerned with such a trivial contradiction (incongruity)? Was it an oversight? No! He must not leave anything, no matter how slight, to chance.    

Zakhertan’s mouth formed into a snarl as he drew another blank parchment before him and issued a set of specific orders to have the matter more thoroughly investigated.  

 “I’ll wait and see where this leads to,” Zakhertan briefly pondered, after which he quickly sealed the envelope, containing specific order, with his Imperial seal. A single logo (motif) drawn on the envelope and explicit sequence of numbers registered underneath, indicated the precise department and agent that it was to be handed to; this too was summarily put aside along with the rest in that growing pile.

Then there is still that other matter, Zakhertan Yozdek irritatedly drummed his fingers on the desk. No! There was no need to review it again. Why was he even debating that issue still?  

Such ambivalence angered him; the one thing he had always taken pride in was his decisiveness and exceptionally retentive memory. One glance at anything, any detail however insignificant or minute, and it would be permanently embedded in his mind. Now tapping that innate advantage, Zakhertan recalled with perfect clarity a certain trivial observation hidden in the report the Royal Courier had submitted upon the completion of his mission. This obtuse remark did not tally with the recently, thoroughly compiled accounts by The Shadow Brigade men on the activities of the newcomer, Fradel Rurik Korvald.    

Ordinarily such a minuscule discrepancy would not have elicited any concern from Zakhertan.  Reflecting additionally on the independent reports of Zyerne Stewor and Tizan, who had also curiously enough, raised doubts about the Scholar and considering the recent happenings, Zakhertan decided to delve deeper into the otherwise innocuous matter concerning Fradel Rurik Korvald.

02- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC) JP 7

    

He might well have inadvertently transported trouble right to the Capital. This farfetched notion now gripped his heart anew with a certain inexplicable foreboding, for far too many had already come-in-contact with the illustrious scholar. Zakhertan imagined the wide scope this investigation would entail, the deployment of manpower it would take to, either get at the simple truth or, expose all the subversives if his hunch proved correct. As it were, the scholars had again been gaining one third measure of their former prominence and along with it, their sphere of influence had expediently grown. In any event a quick confirmation of these nagging concerns was warranted; he must question the couriers Canbir Nonng and Cais Honger further, on the one minor irregularity in their report. Zakhertan had always insisted on complete and accurate assessments and, if this was the result of incompetence, sacrificing accuracy for expedience, then the couriers would have to answer for it with their lives. Quickly he dispatched another written order, this one to order the couriers to hand over their mission to the one who would be sent in their stead and return in post haste to the Capital.   

That was the end of it. Finally, Zakhertan leaned back and stretched out his limbs.

Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund having concluded his assigned task expediently a short time earlier, had been waiting patiently for Zakhertan to finish his; he now came forward on the slight indication of Zakhertan Yozdek, to receive his verbal instructions in an ingenious code so secret that it was known only to the two.  Afterwards, Qarzten routinely picked up the order packets and, after bowing respectfully, hurried out the door to distribute them to the various department heads. All were required to work longer hours than the Sovereign.

The door quickly closed behind the Senior Grand Secretary, Zakhertan Yozdek watched with an uninterested blank stare Neru’s progress, then sat motionless in deep contemplative silence, dark clouds of thought swirling through his head and his guards only a whisper away.

    

                                                                                 ~    

    

Hastening out of the vestibule leading from the Imperial Chambers, the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund’s head was full of the multiplicity of orders, arrangements, and duties that he must complete before the day’s session was over. So entangled was Qarzten Caimund in these thoughts that he did not see and nearly run into (collided with) a similarly distracted Crown Prince Herleif, as Prince rushed in the opposite direction armed with a stack of ancient scrolls and star charts.   

"On yet another urgent errand; are we, Master Caimund?"    

Prince Herleif’s tone, beneath that remark, grated on Qarzten Caimund’s nerves as it always did. The Senior Grand Secretary’s face tightened, and he averted his eyes for a moment, “You are such a barefaced weasel; still suckling your mother's milk after twenty-three years. Your derision is still palpable under that semblance of sarcasm.”  Qarzten Caimund looked squarely at the prince Herleif now and nodded tersely.

03- -QARZTEN CAMUND (16)Bjp

"I gather His Highness is free now."  The Crown Prince, with typical arrogance, had completely ignored Qarzten's response to his barb and spoke now in the icy tone he used for the servants. "You will step aside to let me pass."    

“This hall will fit five armored guards marching abreast. Did you expect me to acknowledge this childish attempt to flaunt your authority? Let us see just how far your authority will get you.” Qarzten Caimund mocked the prince inwardly.

 

 "By all means." Qarzten smiled tightly as he half turned and shot a knowing glance towards the guards at the chamber doors, moving as slow as he could to antagonize prince Herleif.

"I would like to mention however, that this time may not be appropriate for an unannounced visit."  Qarzten Caimund informed the prince, in his even tone. "Perhaps, you should defer your objective of seeing His Highness this very evening unless, of course, it is a matter of the utmost importance." Qarzten tautly grimaced; but kept the words, “particularly the way you are clad; did you just leave one of your debauched (decadent, base) bashes?” and derisively (scathingly, sarcastically) looked away.

"Impudent wretch, how dare you treat me like an imbecile (dullard) child.” The Prince Herleif's protruding earlobes had turned beet red, as he, seething in contempt, violently shoved the Senior Grand Secretary aside. "Wait until I am your Sovereign, you arrogant dog!"  His face suffused with anger and a stream of abuse gushing off inwardly, he strode quickly forward to cross the vestibule in only a second.  

Caught unaware by this outburst of temper, the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund had dropped one of the sealed envelopes onto the marble floor. Anger smoldered in his breast as he stooped to pick it up and his face distorted with contempt. Half-turning his head, he witnessed the Prince Herleif’s way being barred by the two stout guards who had crossed pikes in front of the door to the Imperial Chambers.  

Herleif’s face reddened by rage and pressed menacingly against the senior guard’s, the prince growled, "Are you going to announce me or not? Fine! Step aside, for I mean to walk in immediately and report your insolence myself." 

04-PRINCE HERLEIF YOZDEK (2)

“Go ahead and slither in, you miserable worm, but you won't, will you?” Qarzten Caimund drew in a breath through his teeth then, catching the guard's eye, gave him a simple nod. He had proven his point.  

"I shall inform His Highness of your presence immediately." The stone-faced guard, not in the least perturbed, responded mechanically. "Please wait here, Prince Herleif."  Turning smartly, he stepped up to the door and knocked. After receiving begrudging consent, he opened the door and abjectly entered. After crossing half of the room and bowing briskly, he announced Price Herleif’s presence outside and his request to see the Sovereign.

 "What does that fool want now?' Zakhertan Yozdek snorted impatiently, expecting no answer, and turned his back to the guard to stare out at the serene scenery.   

 Awaiting orders, the guard had stood silently at attention, while at outside, under the transitory (brief) amused gaze of the departing Qarzten Caimund, Prince Herleif had for a spell simmered at his father's disdainful words. Then, he took in a slow breath and composed himself; subsequently, his hand reached inside his pocket, withdrew a rolled-up document, and waited.

 

                                                                                            ~

 

Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek with a blank expression, meanwhile, had continued to stare outside at the placid (tranquil) garden; his stern gaze next, focusing on the oblivious bird, taking in a drink or two from the fountain. Different troubling thoughts however, grievously (incorrigibly) and unbidden, anew robbed him of the peace he sought.

“If only Qijerrik had not turned on me.”  Zakhertan’s cold eyes blinked, filled with a deep hurt as he hissed out a long breath and shook his head. “If only my firstborn had lived instead of this wretched spawn.”  The grievous loss, the events of those days long gone, rushed in to crowd his mind again, searing his heart and soul with self-recrimination and regret. When the stabbing constriction in his chest became too overwhelming, Zakhertan summoned his will to push it aside and concentrated instead, on the positive attributes of his late son.

Zakhertan recollected fondly now with perfect clarity his proudest moments of Qijerrik. From the start, he’d been an offspring worthy of his sire. Not only Prince Qijerrik was most handsome warrior, as he was tall and athletic, though bit more handsome than him; but he had also been endowed with the same temperament, the same wits, tactical brilliance, and akin (parallel) martial ability (prowess) to Zakhertan at a corresponding age.

Zakhertan had hung great many hopes on his son Qijerrik’s shoulders after noting the potential in the boy, especially after, at age fifteen Prince Qijerrik had become, under his strict tutelage (guidance), an accomplished and indomitable warrior. What was more, Prince Qijerrik thrived on dangerous military campaigns just as Zakhertan did. The more perilous the task or more challenging the combat action the greater the thrill, the deeper the sensation the young Prince would derive from it. This feeling was one only Zakhertan would understand and, they were not just father and son but kindred spirits.  

05- QIJERRIK YOZDEK  (4)JP

But then cruel, capricious fate had instigated, on that fateful seventeenth’ year of his son's life, those infamous chain of events that had led up to his son’s betrayal, all of which were now permanently etched in Zakhertan 's memory by the same cursed talent that served him so well in his bureaucratic duties. Consistently every evening, as soon as he had time to himself, they had surfaced despite his best efforts to quash them and, fiercely, obsessively haunted his peace and tormented his soul.     

If only he had acted more swiftly and without qualm to stem the divergent tide earlier.    

 As it was Zakhertan had been preoccupied with obliteration of resurgent rebel forces at 

Wenjenkun’s western borders, while same time he was constrained to adopt far more severe, more brutal measures to eradicate the infestation the serious unrest by the rising literati (intellectuals or educated class) within Capital Province Holger. Unfortunately, while he was otherwise engaged, the contrary seed had been planted and had germinated in the one Zakhertan had least expected. That single oversight had cost him his firstborn son. When he became aware of this fact, of course by then he could not have altered the outcome, not in the slightest.   

Again, considering his then options in hindsight, Zakhertan shrugged with a certain resignation, admitting to himself that he could not have done otherwise for, on that cursed day when the dark flotilla of clouds congregated ominously on the horizon atop the rising sun, his beloved son Qijerrik, had insisted on, and unfortunately received, his permission to lead vanguard in the attack against the rebel scholars.  After all, Zakhertan had no reason to doubt his son's competence.     

The campaign had gone well enough, with the Imperial forces emerging victorious as expected; after which came the punitive action that wreaked total devastation on the entire populous which had aided and shielded the defiant scholars. Unfortunately, something had gone awry, something else quite unforeseen had transpired either on the battlefield or in aftermath, which had forever altered his beloved son Prince Qijerrik.      

The rebel army had fought gallantly and employed brilliant tactics right up until the bitter end, but that would not have brought about that kind of change in Qijerrik, for he had bested gallant foes before. Was it the gruesome mass suicide of the rebel forces when all hope had been lost? Or was it the subsequent events, the countrywide hunt for and the extreme persecution of the many sympathizers? Could it have been the madness of the pillaging, the extensive carnage and mass extermination of the scholar class? Or was it simply the proliferation (creation) of the earthen mounds that had contained within it, countless living bodies of men, women, and children? Could any of these or all, have been the contributing factors?

“No! Absolutely not! Qijerrik was no weakling coward. “Zakhertan once more vehemently denied that hurtful notion. It had to have been something entirely different, something inconceivable and one day he (Zakhertan) would surely pinpoint the real cause. Zakhertan yet again lied to himself. Technically that had been the day he had lost his firstborn son for, from that day forth Prince Qijerrik had undergone a drastic change in heart, mind, and character. He had become increasingly unruly and finally, downright disobedient.  

“If only my son had been a fallen casualty in war.” Zakhertan mulled over, though he surmised that, in a sense, Qijerrik had been just that.  

“Could the fault have been partly his? He should have listened to his son more?”    

“If only he’d paid more attention and timely intervened with apt measures to protect and isolate Qijerrik from those damaging influences, instead of reacting in anger and ostracizing his son for being contrary and too outspoken?” Zakhertan once more pondered on the nagging concerns, with his empty gaze affixed on the swaying trees (that seemed to be bowing obsequiously), for the wind had just then picked up in the garden.  

 “Had he been too stringent? Had he pushed his son too hard, too soon? No, that was not it either.” Zakhertan scowled. Whatever he might have done wrong, one thing was for certain: he had never been lax in Qijerrik’s upbringing or discipline. In fact, up until that time, Zakhertan had taken an active interest and taken great care in ensuring that Qijerrik had received proper, well-rounded education in both civil and military.   

“Then, how could he have failed to instill in the boy, the most important filial virtue, right alongside loyalty and honor?”  Zakhertan was angry and remained at a loss to find reasons for that drastic change in Qijerrik and the subsequent, catastrophic series of events. Searing fury rose in him anew as he recalled the distressing incident in Council when his son sharply stood up in front of all assembled, to openly oppose him. Admittedly, it was over a minor issue, but the act was still one of open, brazen defiance; a legitimate move under the law but it harbored graver undercurrents which would expose Zakhertan’s single weakness and challenge his overall authority in Imperial Court.

 Zakhertan Yozdek regretted now not using right there and then the provisions in the law which would have allowed him to exercise his option to incarcerate Qijerrik summarily. If only he had imprisoned him, indefinitely or even executed him, instead of banishing him?

Zakhertan had repeated the same haunting question thousands of times and each time the same regret, recrimination, hurt, disappointment, furious rage, and bitterness gripped his heart, in that merciless, wrenching grip. Had he done that, he would have spared himself the mortifying, wounding torment of knowing that his beloved son, his own flesh, and blood, was capable of such treachery against him and all he stood for.

There was one other in the family, his youngest sister, who had likewise betrayed him; but Zakhertan had understood and eventually forgiven her for her misplaced loyalty, for she’d from the first, been deeply infatuated (besotted) with her husband, Lord Shonne Gulbrand. But to be so betrayed by his once beloved son was something Zakhertan had never expected or imagined as a possibility. Each time that memory surfaced, the same fierce indignation and fury welled up from the depths of his soul and he suffered that akin, bittersweet sensation of bile rising to his mouth, as the day Prince Qijerrik’s war slogans had reached his ears.

06- QIJERRIK YOZDEK  (3)JP

Zakhertan’s eyes had burned with intense heat from reading those seditious adages posted for all to see in the towns’ squares, which rallied the populous restive and ripe, for an all-out rebellion. Those contemptible words (like gnawing parasites) were permanently etched (engraved) in his brain. One of those had said: “Arise good people who has suffered for so long under the severity of despotic Zakhertan Yozdek's oppressive regime, time to oppose his repressive laws and demand reckoning for the wrongs that had never been redressed; unite and take up arms, for yours is the righteous cause!”    

“My son, my most beloved son; how deeply you’d injured me!”  Zakhertan’s mouth presently, creased into a grimace of pain for each one of those seditious words had been a stiletto in Zakhertan’s heart and the damage hence, had been irreparable.

Zakhertan would have judged Qijerrik more leniently, had all this been done because of high ambition, Prince wanting to seize the throne for himself; that Zakhertan could have lived with, but Qijerrik had taken on the mantle of a liberator.     

This had been unforgivable, and it had unleashed the culmination of all that unbridled fury Zakhertan Yozdek had amassed in him; consequently, he had acted swiftly and more savagely than ever before to bring about total devastation of innumerable (myriad) Wenjenkuners.

 

(END OF SECTION 5)    

11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION - 4

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION - 4

Month after month, each night’s routine was the same for Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek; this evening as well, he was burdened with so many imperative official (bureaucratic) documents needing his special perusal.

“I detest squandering my time in this way, even with the most able of help, monitoring and controlling the wolves that are my vassals.” Zakhertan Yozdek scoffed inwardly, shifting in his seat. “What an utter waste of my talents. This cursed dreary existence … This never ending; cloying, suffocating, bureaucratic red tape could drive a lesser man to madness. Darn it all!” Zakhertan ground his teeth. “Even the slowest of torturous death would be preferable to this present inertia (inaction).”

 

01- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK   JP

 Wearily, Zakhertan closed his eyes as if to escape it all. Never had he felt so empty in heart, so utterly alone; his true aspirations had always been to- as a brilliant tactician, a great general with invincible prowess- burgeon (thrive) at the battlefield… That was the only life for him. Zakhertan heaved a deep, dejected sigh, pining to be once more in the combat zone (at the front line); at least there, Zakhertan had no qualms, no artificial worries to be addressed, nothing taxing his patience. There he would be in his element, thriving on solving precise, (clear) arduous yet all too familiar tactical problems while accepting the perils that each new campaign entailed. Dicey warrior’s life was unquestionably preferable to this cackling of barren hens that called itself a political arena. What a waste it was, for someone who has had war pulsing in his veins, ever since he had been a suckling…

Zakhertan’s mind just then was diverted (sidetracked) by the recollection of a once propagated hearsay (rumour), that had described how he, Zakhertan, had come into this world:

 Purportedly (supposedly), at the time of his birth, he had kicked so violently that he had ruptured the very womb that had prior nourished and sustained his life; hence, he had claimed his first victim, his very gentle and loving mother, Lady Rosaline, before he had even drawn his first breath.

This tale (false account) imparted to Zakhertan during his early childhood by none other than his hateful stepmother Lady Serafina, had left an indelible (permanent) mark (blot) on his conscience till adolescence and had irrevocably fashioned his innate character.

 It was not till much later that he had learned of the truth; that his birth had been a breach-birthing and, his Lord father valuing a son more than his wife, had ordered the tending physician to slice open her womb and extract the male offspring, regardless of the (blood-loss  and) consequence.

02-  ZAKHERTAN'S FATHER

Zakhertan’s father Lord Kade Yozdek, back then had been an influential personage in the Northern border province. He controlled massive resources and vast lands which had been owned (inherited) by the Yozdek clan for five generations; furthermore, he regulated most trade and maintained a small private army in addition to the border imperial troops, allocated to him supposedly for stability and maintenance of peace. His generals perpetually guarded (patrolled) the northern region, for the purposes of preventing and subduing the sporadic violent incursions from ethnic tribes that trespassed into his lands, as well, invaded or pillage the remote border towns and regions. The governor of the district, toadied to the lord, recognizing the fact that he held the real power in this northern territory (state).

Lord Kade, a cold, calculating, impious (licentious) man, had remarried quickly after the death of his principal wife Lady Rosaline, well before the period of mourning had been officially over. This advantageous union however, had been a strategic, loveless union, and though his new wife, Zakhertan’s stepmother Serafina, had borne his Lord father first a girl offspring and then a boy, the boy had not lived long enough to see his second year.

The young Zakhertan had no regrets about eliminating his rival sibling, despite the untold grief it had caused to his, by then odious Lord father. The licentious brute had often when drunk derided and brutally beaten willful and defiant Zakhertan senseless.

03- YOUNG ZAKHERTAN

Despite his oppressive and violent childhood, or perhaps because of it, Zakhertan had always, for as long as he could remember, taken solace in battle and in living life on the edge (of death). Even now he could smell the carnage and envisioned with a certain longing the terrible havoc, the glorious devastation he would wreak on his next campaign. Alas, he knew that for the time being at least he had to forbear (be patient) and resolve few more snags (glitches) in his governance (control) before he could venture anew at the head of a massive army and, finally met his most worthy adversary (nemesis), Emperor Deng Hedenko of Kontu.

Zakhertan’s gaging and astute (keen) mind had already factored in the inevitability of the prolonged and costly campaign (battle) and the resulting gory before that anticipated eventual victory (triumph). It would be a conflict the like of which had no precedence in Wenjenkun’s history; nevertheless, one his heart frenziedly craved (yearned for).

Patience, however, had never been Zakhertan’s innate virtue; it had to be doggedly (resolutely) forced and perpetually (constantly) learned.

“Curse Dwengzur for cheating me out of that fight!”  Denied that fundamental (essential) reprieve, Zakhertan’s thoughts had just then reverted to the Immortal; thus, his fists involuntarily clenched, as he crossly (irately) cogitated (deliberated) on that nagging concern.

“Where was that bothersome wizard anyway…How could he still be at large, a man of Dwengzur's caliber… Escaping his (Zakhertan’s) vast network of spies which was entrenched right across the known world?”

But even as he had asked this, Zakhertan already knew the answer. And it was for that reason that despite Zakhertan's protests and denials, the Immortal’s disappearance had deeply troubled him; especially since the extensive, persistent search, which had even encompassed the regions of Korion all the way up to the island of Kontu, still furiously, had failed to deliver least trace of Dwengzur or his sort’s abode.     

Zakhertan Yozdek had of course inwardly laughed at the circulating blathers, refused to give least credence to the preposterous, imbecilic notions, belief of couple of his supposed, brainy officials, that Dwengzur was a demigod. (Minor god- one regarded as such in a hierarchy of other gods.) 

04- DWENGZUR THE DEMIGOD (49)JP

These key bureaucrat sucker fools, had hypothesized that “Dwengzur had in fact been sent by Divine authority, to assist and protect their illustrious and righteous Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek from serious harm and, once the earthly task had been completed, Dwengzur had returned from whence he came.”     

Meanwhile it had served his (Zakhertan’s) purpose well, to let the plebians be gulled by all that superstitious nonsense. Ordinary folk (plebs) had always been prone to (deducing then) attributing strange manifestations to the work of Supreme Gods. Zakhertan grimaced wryly and shrugged. The Hexocian religion, one of the surviving orders, to date had been secretly manipulated and utilized to bend the inferior minds, enabling that contemptuous lot to be herded like sheep into doing his (Zakhertan’s) bidding whenever the need rose? Did they think that he would ever tolerate, let alone perpetuate that farce, that contemptible pretext of those religious orders, without reason?

“Divine intervention indeed, “Zakhertan Yozdek (the atheist) again scoffed venomously reflecting at this point on the incredulous notion that, Gods would take any notice of the bothersome, writhing, myriad creatures. “Earthly task ha!” Zakhertan Yozdek hissed out a long breath and smiled tautly, as memories of his hundreds and thousands of acts of (heathen) brutality came to mind.

“Surely none of those abhorred acts were condoned by these righteous Gods. And besides, where was the expected retribution; his reign to date had remained unchallenged and consolidated. That proved it: Gods did not exist. But Immortals did exist.”

Zakhertan’s gaze then pensively turned to the painting of the white tiger, mounted on the far wall. He stared at it for a time, then with awry smile he looked down.

05 - WHITE TIGER 10- JP

Few years back to expel his boredom Zakhertan had gone on a dangerous venture, a hunt for a fearsome white tiger that had terrorized three remote villages at high elevation at the northern end, and the  furthest reaches of Wenjenkun’s Toreaken Province.

The white tiger of incredible size and ferocity after his rampaging through these villages, had left behind countless mangled and mutilated corpses (both humans and animals). Hundreds of half-eaten parts littered the blood-soaked pathways (grounds), before the callous beast had finally retreated to his lair at that towering peak; with only a precarious goat’s path leading up to it, way passed the densely forested mountain ridge.

 Always up for a challenge Zakhertan Yozdek, perfectly disguised as ordinary hunter had gone alone on a venture to add this monstrous beast’s head to his other mounted trophies.

06- WHITE TIGER 5- JP

Zakhertan had pursued the carnivorous beast hotly, but then at the crucial juncture, when he spotted it, he’d taken aim at the edge of sheer cliff and was poised to shoot his poisoned arrow when, the earth underneath his footing had suddenly given way and he’d plummeted down into a deep, bottomless abyss (chasm) along with the fallen debris. Halfway down, he had gripped (gotten hold of) one or two of the (exposed,) resilient dangling roots, which protruded from the precipitous edge (vertical drop) and so escaped certain death.

Proceeding (climbing, advancing) once more towards the peak (summit), mid-way up he had discovered the hidden opening to a huge cavern (grotto) and fearlessly went inside. Advancing in pitch darkness, he had followed one of the subterranean tunnels and after escaping six or seven perilous pitfalls, had emerged unscathed, when it was nearing dusk, at the outside.

The topography (landscape) and the fauna that had greeted his eyes, when abruptly the miasmic (vaporous, gaseous, misty) fog cleared, had appeared to him most strange; moreover, he noted the sudden, stark (abysmal), all encompassing absence of all sound. He was considering which direction to advance, when just then a bot of lightening streak from a cloudless sky and then a tremendous ruckus at a distance drew his attention to a small clearing, beyond the dense (forest) grove of trees.

Zakhertan had approached the area cautiously and then, concealing his presence, had avidly and elatedly, watched the ongoing deadly and intense combat between two, sure to be Immortal warriors. Fortune smiling on him, he had also eye-witnessed and heard the subsequent invocation (incantation) of the “Nokuzikos Spell,” by the clearly senior rank Immortal warrior; after which, in a flash, his opponent had then been (utterly subdued) bested.

07- IMMORTALS FIGHTING (4)

The defeated and partially incapacitated younger Immortal had subsequently, been swiftly carted (lugged) away by the victor, both riding the clouds, to oblivion.  

Zakhertan Yozdek had always been gifted with retentive memory and the ability to recall information however complex, verbal, or visual, with great accuracy and clarity; forgetting all about the white tiger, for he had attained a far greater prize, he had joyously returned home. Possessing   this “Nokuzikos Spell,” his already indomitable powers subsequently further enhanced, he had since then been invincible in every battle or single combat. Notwithstanding how formidable the enemy been, his adversaries (foe, opposition) had always (been defeated without fail) suffered the same fate.  

This advantage, the sure gift, had a terrible drawback (derivative) however, for Zakhertan being a mere mortal, after each invocation of the Nokuzikos Spell, he had consequently, always suffered (succumbed to) the subsequent day, an intense and unimaginable smarting (painful) headache. No amount of medicine or care would alleviate (assuage, lessen) the extreme pressure and the excruciating, throbbing in his head. His personal physicians lived in dread at such times, fearing that Zakhertan might inevitably one day, undergo a fatalistic aneurism (aneurysm) in the brain and so expire.

Never forgetting the fierce combat between those two superior beings, Zakhertan had of course instigated for a long time, thorough searches for their kind. But all subsequent pursuits (quests, hunt) had been unfortunately proved in vain, till quite recently that is, when Zakhertan had learned of Dwengzur’s presence in Channing.

Dwengzur, an alleged wizard, employed for entertainment purposes during one of Egil Viggoaries’s infamous social gatherings, had left quite an impression on all that had been present. The culminated reports intriguing Zakhertan, he had at once summoned Dwengzur to his presence.  Zakhertan had at length questioned the so-called Wizard; though infuriated by his deceit, Zakhertan had nevertheless played along and kept his ire in check, to secretly monitor this Immortal’s activities, as well, uncover the whereabouts of his Race. Anticipating that, where there was one, there would be others and utilizing such beings would make him more omnipotent (all-powerful and unstoppable) Ruler.

(END OF SECTION 4)

 

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