11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 2

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 2

   

For some time now, Egil Viggoaries had employed a heartless, homicidal surgeon Lubin, one of only two in the whole Wenjenkun who excelled in the sadistic skill of prolonging the duration of the meted punishment to the maximum the body would stand. The other one Egil could not touch, for he was actively in the employ of Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek.   

01- SURGEON LUBIN

 

There had been few precursors to Lubin, but all four had been abruptly terminated and then discarded by Egil Viggoaries when an unsatisfactory application of the blade had brought about a hasty end to the unfortunate victim. Egil Viggoaries was intolerant of least incompetence; furthermore, he often indulged in tormenting people as it provided him with the highest form of entertainment, and Lubin was his ringmaster.   

Lubin provided Egil Viggoaries with just the right dose of exhilaration to satisfy his perverse appetite for at least one briefer spell, before yet again the insatiable hunger (craving) resurfaced in the Dark Eunuch’s bottomless vile soul. Then the evil savagery and malice would recap (repeat) all over again.  

Zhadol Borym had never once in those abhorred compulsory (obligatory) episodes, where he had born witness to Lubin’s savagery, expected to be the next prey (target). Each time he hardened his heart, being so coerced and therefore believed (was sure), that those faceless phantom brutes, the barely human forms, were well deserving of such penalty. Nevertheless, and this he would never admit to anyone, his misled warrior’s conscience (scruples) and tempered soul still had to be forcefully willed to a distant, way faraway place,  before he could stomach (tolerate) the unfolding scene before his very eyes: Lubin in each case, had wielded the blade skillfully as if skinning a fish, ensuing days and weeks he would then painstakingly (meticulously) cut away, each strip, leaving only a jumbled mass of nerves to collect and transmit black ropes of pain that pulsed through, with fading life; all the while ensuring that the victim did not prematurely expire until the very end of this tortuous ordeal.  

Zhadol at present shuddered involuntarily, as he could not shut out the parade of gruesome images from his mind's eye; mindful of the fact, that Lubin's expert application of the razor-sharp scalpel (surgical knife) would soon be poised on his (Zadol’s) very flesh. He furtively glanced once more at Egil Viggoaries. The Eunuch's face was dark, and his jaw firmly set.  But what had seemed like an eternity to Zhadol Borym had in truth, been only a few minutes.    

“Was this the fate Egil Viggoaries had planned for him all along? No! He could not meekly accept such an ignominious punishment... He must contest this vile verdict! “  

 

Commander Zhadol rising to his feet, menacingly stepped forward but was instantly jerked back, as the chain about his neck was viciously yanked by one of his guards. His steadfast resistance only resulted in the metal biting deeper into his existing wounds. Blood oozed freely out from the corrugated scabs layered atop his blistered flesh. Undeterred Zhadol Borym stayed his ground, looking defiantly up at Egil Viggoaries, his eyes burrowing ferociously into Dark Eunuch’s, he then in resounding voice, loudly challenged him to one-on one personal combat; this was his right, Egil owed him this more befitting a warrior’s end, and that he refused to accept nothing (short) less.    

“Still, no reaction; all right then, he will defy Egil by other means. Pending something better, he   would goad (provoke) the Dark Eunuch using insolent words.”  

 

"You stupid fool!" Egil Viggoaries beat him to the punch however, as he abruptly just then, exploded in a bark. Then rising slowly, he menacingly approached Zhadol Borym until he was only but a hairline away. His right fist clenched, poised to strike. He glowered at his former Commander and then spat contemptuously into his face. "Even now you remain ignorant of your true crime."  He turned and gave a swift, brutal kick to Yennic's head. Stunned, Yennic fell backwards, blood spurting from the deep gash on his scalp. 

Egil Viggoaries’s head snapped back and pressed his face right up against Zhadol Borym's. Gritting his teeth and pointing the accusing finger down at the huddled mass on the floor, Egil Viggoaries spat out the incredible words Zhadol Borym wished he would never live to hear.    

02- EGIL VIGGORIES 11- JP

“You disgust me; for you were played all along; your strings were jerked, like a despicable puppet, by this wretched, insignificant maggot!"  Egil Biggoaries gave a derisive snort and once more violently kicked Yennic Zhiborym hard with the back of his heel just for the sport of it. 

The Dark Eunuch then swung back to Zhadol and rasped, "Your abject weakness sickens (nauseate) me!" Egil with a disdain spat on the ground and haughtily turned his back to his long-time friend Zhadol. His steps thereafter with deliberate slowness mounted the platform, and he returned to his seat.  

Aghast, Zhadol Borym turned his questioning gaze sideways and looked down at Yennic Zhiborym slouched (curled, doubled over) on the ground, then, tilting his head upwards to face Egil Viggoaries, he indignantly demanded, "This is nothing more than a dastardly plot to discredit me. I know it is!  State clearly the crime which I am truly accused of!  Furthermore, I challenge you to muster any proof which would substantiate your implicit (roundabout) claim? False confessions extracted under duress and torture does not count!”   

"Proof," Egil Viggoaries’s thundering bark shook the room.    

"He wants proof." Dark Eunuch addressed the assembly after a derisive laugh.   

 "Proof." Repeating the word third time, at first thoughtfully, then stone faced, Egil Viggoaries reverted his venomous eyes to rest for a time on Yennic Zhiborym, before turning it back again on Zhadol.  

Egil’s face then surprisingly placid (calm); lips formed an eerie, menacing smile. "I had wanted to spare you ignominy (this terrible disgrace, shame), but proof you asked for and proof you shall have."  He shrugged then leaned back and motioned to a guard waiting by the door.   

Zhadol Borym's heart filled with apprehension at that instant with what he might hear. He swallowed dryly; his stomach suddenly tightened into a hard knot; but now it was too late to stop it. The guard had already re-entered leading two members belonging to the “Wraiths” division of Black Molochs. These incorruptible eunuchs, clad in black and wearing face masks to hide their identity, were most proficient at gathering evidence.  They came forward quickly and abruptly halting before Egil

Viggoaries, reverently bowed to him. Such was their status that they were answerable only to the Leader of the Order. From their preamble it turned out that, for some time now, Yennic Zhiborym had been kept under close surveillance.  His every word, action, and habitual need, however insignificant, had been routinely and meticulously documented in the minutest detail. In the interest of brevity, however, Egil Viggoaries ordered them to summarize their findings.   

The spokesperson for the two then recounted the high points, most of which proved extremely embarrassing for Zhadol Borym.  In a very brief time they presented overwhelming evidence, far beyond any possibility of doubt, that Yennic Zhiborym was an informant for the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s Office. However distasteful, Yennic's heinous designs, and Zhadol’s unwitting part in them, were all exposed.   

What is more ignominious to Zhadol Borym was that Yennic's inextricable link to the sabotage of one specific case. This assignment had gone terribly awry and had cost the lives of nine Black Molochs 's most competent men, among whom had been Zhadol 's only living relative, a distant cousin.   

At this point Egil Viggoaries lifted his hand and stopped the report. "You want more culpable (chargeable) proof?"   

Zhadol Borym ruefully (repentantly) looked down, "No, I've heard enough."     

He heaved a dejected sigh, now resigned to his fate. He so absolutely (thoroughly) regretted his past foolhardy ways with Yennic Zhiborym.  Zadol’s shame being far too great, he could no longer lift his head to look at his fellow members. More infuriating still, was the way he had been duped by Yennic and utilized to, in betraying the Order.  The love he had once felt for Yennic Zhiborym had suddenly got supplanted with pure, unadulterated odium (abhorrence, loathing).  Fire raged through his limbs now, as he stared belligerently down at this despicable spy.  If his hands were free, he would have violently torn Yennic limb from limb, and then plugging his heart from his cursed chest, just eaten it raw; however, curbing his fury Zhadol with certain resignation uttered, “Then my allotted punishment is too lenient; I deserve far worse for being so inept.”   

The members of the Inner Circle (of Black Molochs) were appalled at first but now disappointment was starkly written on all their faces, as their piercing, harsh gazes silently remonstrated with Zhadol   Borym.  

“You had so utterly failed us, failed the Order.  You deserve this cruelest end!”  

  

03- IRATE BLACK MOLOCK  AFFILIATES

 

Egil Viggoaries nodded and grinned; quite satisfied with the effects of his theatrics.  He’d anticipated that there might have been some of the Inner Circle who, if they had dared at all, would have debated against his decision to terminate Zhadol Borym in that way; one who, with that sleek tongue of his, would have argued that Zhadol was in his prime, just shy of twenty-eight years of age and was as yet a formidable fighter, still an asset to the Order.   

“Now they’re precisely where, I’d wished them to be.”    

Egil Viggoaries had bridled his temper just long enough to reaffirm his otherwise indubitable, absolute judgment. Now no one in the assembly would dare express the least objection (discontentment) with his next, more arduous agenda (plan, course of action).  Zhadol Borym, well, he was only a lateral casualty. It mattered little to Egil that he had used his long-time friend Zhadol heartlessly as sure bait, knowing full well his weakness and habitual response.    

Egil Viggoaries now laughed sourly and gave a slight gesture to the guards with his chin. 

Dispassionately he watched the bloodied backs of Zhadol and Yennic as they were dragged outside, never to be seen again.   

                                                                                        ~   

   

Egil Viggoaries could have arranged for Zhadol Borym to have a less painful way out; certain drugs which numbed the senses instead of Lubin's usual medicines which enhanced the suffering.  

“Why should I? No,”    

Despite what Zhadol had once meant to him, how much he had done for him. Despite all the daunting images from the past, Egil Viggoaries remained firm in his resolve. He could not allow his hardened heart to dispense least charity; he could not weaken his doggedness (determination) nor feel least compassion for his once intimate companion.  Zhadol Borym meant less than nothing to him now, especially since he had been growing too arrogant of late. At least now he was rid of Zhadol's irksome and sanctimonious presence once and for all, before the so-called friend became more of a problem.   

Egil closed his eyes, quite angry with himself for this sudden, unexpected twinge of conscience. Why was he now second guessing his earlier resolve; had it been Zhadol’s last look that brought this unexpected rush of feelings he had thought long erased (dismissed)? Zhadol Borym was pegged (marked) to be terminated, and that was that!   

Vindictiveness, in Black Molochs ... he was above such ignoble emotions. Egil Viggoaries lied to himself, only to have another thought gnaw at him unexpectedly.   

True enough, if Zhadol had wanted to, he could have made good for his escape, reinforcements, or no reinforcements. Of course, he would have inevitably been hunted down and apprehended, but not before he cost the Order (organization) a dire toll in both manpower (loss of men) and resources. With his competence, it was inconceivable to think that Zhadol, one day, be so gulled, so completely taken in by the likes of Yennic Zhiborym. And why had he surrendered so easily?    

He had deep affections for Yennic…Was that it? Had that fool allowed his capture solely to appeal to the other’s case or die with him?  If that was his reason, then he certainly deserved his ignominious end. He deserved to perish, if for no other (reason) bases than that most contemptable, of weakness. Egil Viggoaries inwardly scoffed, overlooking the fact that he’d so many years been the recipient of that very akin sentiment; those tender, affectionate means and deeds that had filled in the void and warmed the otherwise cold, unfeeling crux of his being. Again, he lied to himself, entertaining the thought that, fortunately, he was above all that.  He had no use presently, for such a base, useless emotion, at all.     

Egil Viggoaries again hard-heartedly shrugged and turned his thoughts to another.  In the next week or two he will be initiating his recent recruit, Yuchemos Mantus, into the ranks of the Inner Circle.

04- YUCHEMOS MANTUS

  

 Yuchemos Mantus, showed real promise, and what is more, he had already subtly ingratiated himself into the good graces of both Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek and Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren.  Egil Viggoaries smirked, reflecting on the fact Yuchemos was the sole male offspring of, Demarco Mantus, head of the most influential family in Channing; hence, strategically placed, he would be most beneficial in fulfilling his (Egil Viggoaries’s) ultimate ambition.   

                                                                                           ~   

In the dark subterranean dungeons below, where the air was permanently rancid, and lichen (moss, fungus and mold) grew on the moist stone walls, Zhadol Borym that night had endured without a whimper the first measure of his punishment, and he had braced himself for the worst torment yet to ensue during the small hours of the same night. The surgeon had left his sight temporarily for repast, with his ghastly, lurid grin and a vicious promise to return and resume later with his special application, one specifically designed for Zhadol, whom he would administer, with definite zeal.    

No one, certainly not Zhadol Borym, had ever hoped or anticipated, the stray element (conduit), the mercifully unexpected reprieve from his ignominious end; this, by another powerful faction, the covert brotherhood of Kozurs, that dared to execute the impossible feat (brazen exploit, stunt).  

Nevertheless, this daring rescue had compounded ramifications; consequently, Egil Viggoaries would never cease (stop) his relentless hunt. Therefore, Zhadol’s Borym’s demise had to be staged so expertly that it would not warrant the Dark Eunuch’s least suspicion.    

In the aftermath of devastating explosions and the resulting seismic tremors, that had rocked the subterranean dungeons in the core capital Channing – that of which had completely obliterated (decimated) the cell which Zhadol Borym had been shackled to on the table, as well,  destroyed the perimeter (vicinity) cells around and above, all of it buried in ashen rubble- it its wake it had created a deep cavernous (yawning, gaping) sinkhole.

Unavoidably, many prisoners and captives’ lives (those in surrounding dungeons) had also (been lost) expired due to the devastating impact of the explosion. Though this could be deemed more an act of clemency to those already lost souls, awaiting interminable (unending) mortifying tortures.   

This breach, naturally instigated (provoked) serious inquiry (examination) by all major factions, including Sovereign Zakhertan’s Black Band Guard (and the shadow Brigade); however, the results (conclusions) all pinpointed to a catastrophic yet bizarre accident, indubitably a fortuity/a fluke happenstance, by a carelessly positioned volatile element which had beget that catastrophic blasts. 

Even subsequent month’s ardent investigations, by the persistent few, still failed to prove otherwise, failed to expose this expertly conceived strike... The details of which had been covertly finalized during the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s party given in honor of Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald. During the time, which Nevetsecnuac had sought refuge and by capricious fate, had chanced on Zaur Stugr and Lenny Sukzor, that memorable night, in the secluded part of the garden.    

Zhadol Borym’s close friends and affiliates were of course stealthily (privately) elated at this outcome, the quick and more humane (lenient) demise of a well esteemed, brave Commander Zhadol, deeming it a mercy of Heaven; for in truth Zhadol was well liked and, he had a quality about him that fostered (beget) intrinsic and lasting loyalty (comradery and devotion) among his men.   

 The Dark Eunuch’s fury, meanwhile, had still demanded blood and so, during ensuing days besides the copious wretched prisoners, many hapless prison-guards that had been on duty that night, and had the misfortune to survive the blasts, had paid for their incompetence (ineptness) and the resulting breach, of the deemed impenetrable prison.    

Eventually things had died down, especially after the ongoing excavations, had produced (unearthed

(dug up, retrieved) several small pieces (fragments) of Zhadol Boerym’s supposed charred remains (corpse) with irrefutable, identifiable markers. These (presented in a box) brought before the still incensed Egil Viggoaries, had finally alleviated (eased) his suspicious and demanding nature.    

                                                                             ~   

(END OF SECTION 2)    

11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC– EVIL PERSONIFIED – SECTION 1  

"Son of Wushing", Zonar called him. “Did he know? How did he know?”  Lenny never had the chance to ask the General. His closely guarded secret identity was known only to Sovereign Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan and now it seemed, to one other. He only hoped that it would go no further than General Zonar Kuntzu.  

01- LENNY SUKZOR (12)JP

  

Though Lenny Sukzor had returned to bed immediately after Zonar's abrupt departure, sleep till dawn had averted him; in an agitated state he had turned and tossed all night long, reminiscing, in his head considering missed (avenues) opportunities and possibilities and then, going over alternate plans.  

Lenny Sukzor recalled vividly the day which he had learned of his true parentage. His mother Ingrit, who had survived his father by just shy of two years, had confessed this to him at her deathbed, casting his heart, for a lengthy period, into utter turmoil. Lenny had undergone a drastic change then, discovering that all those years of his life had been a lie. Yes, all those closest to him had betrayed his trust, only they had called it "protecting" him. More likely it had served their purpose to keep him ignorant; but however, you termed it; Lenny Sukzor was the product of a grand indiscretion.  

At the time of Minister Keko Wushing’s trip to the capital Channing in Wenjenkun to elicit support for Korion, he had stayed as the houseguest of Minister Dongue Youlu and the two had found they had much in common. Minister Youlu, the most generous host, had given many feasts in Wushing's honor. After one such dinner, and more inebriated than usual, Wushing had chanced upon in the Fuchisia Pavilion, the Minister's beautiful fourth daughter named Ingrit. Unable to help himself, and helped along by the wine, powerless to resist her charm. He had fallen deeply in love and going against propriety, had seduced this innocent fairy maiden. At dawn, of course, he immediately regretted his indiscretion of the previous night and was of a mind to set things right by formally asking for her hand in marriage and taking her back, as his second wife, to his home in Korion. Unlike Wenjenkun, it was the norm in Korion at that time, for the well-off gentry to have more than one wife.

02- INGRIT YOULU- LATER BECAME INGRIT SUKZOR

 Unfortunately, events took a wrong turn and, before he could reveal his honorable intentions to Minister Dongue Youlu, he was whisked away to manage (oversee) other more pressing concerns. As affairs of the state took precedence over affairs of the heart, the matter had then been temporarily shelved.  

Wushing never learned of her pregnancy until after he had already departed for Korion; nevertheless, he vowed to send for her. But once again other things took precedence, like the complete rebuilding of the nation.  

Meanwhile, as she was from an old, well-established family, when her condition became known to her father, she had been forced into a hurried marriage with another, hence the surname of Sukzor.  

The ensuing turmoil of the following years, Zakhertan Yozdek’s rise to power and usurpation of the throne, his punitive campaign against Korion. It had been as though fate had conspired to keep Lenny Sukzor from ever knowing the truth. Thinking Keikon Sukzor was his natural father, he had cheered on relentlessly when Korion was subjugated and its populous nearly got extinguished. He had been brought up to believe that Wushing was a monstrous, most cunning political leader (statesperson) whose only purpose had been to oppose Wenjenkun; hence he should be despised and spat upon.  

03- WUSHING, THE MINISTER OF INTERIOR B

As it were, (believing in the state’s propaganda)  Lenny Sukzor had been the staunch supporter of Zakhertan Yozdek from the very start and had been one of the youngest statesmen that had devised the ingenious stratagems that had brought about the near destruction of Korion and, the subsequent expansion of Wenjenkun's territories, through the subjugation of many other border states to the north and then to the west.   

At the time Lenny Sukzor had been baffled by his mother's silent brooding and her seeming indifference when she heard news of the conquest and then the humiliating subjugation of Korion. Lenny Sukzor again winced recollecting his unfair, remonstrations with his mother that had resulted in her (copious) profuse tears.  

Lenny sat upright and, after drinking two swigs (mouthfuls) of water from the jug to quench his thirst, he went over and drew aside a crack the thick window (coverings) curtains, wishing to gaze at the night sky to calm his mind and bring about sleep. The remaining hours however had passed in a wink with no such luck; when the first rays of dawn (sunrise) caressed his face, “Oh well, I might as well get up now.” Grumbling, he threw his covers off and bolted from the bed.  

Shortly after dawn that same day, Lenny Sukzor arrived at Yoshikon Temple as he, a devout Hexoc, so often did, to offer prayers and give sacrifice to the local deity. As was the custom, a monk was assigned to assist him in bringing the complex rituals to completion after which he was served a specially prepared tea by the same monk in a private corner.

There was nothing unusual in this peaceful exchange and time for soothing reflection, a time in which, the monk clarified the scriptures or resolved a particular concern of a Hexos’ devotee. But appearances can be deceiving. It was not entirely by accident, that this monk had been assigned to Lenny Sukzor, nor was it strictly religious doctrines that were, with hushed voices, being discussed. With spies rampant everywhere, Black Molochs had developed an ingenious, coded dialogue where a rich duplicity of meanings was encapsulated in religious terminology and metaphors. This was one of three alternate means with which contact ‘couriers conveyed a vital covert message to the secret affiliate. Thus far they had been most fortunate that this means of communication had escaped detection by the ever-watchful agents of one of the other factions.  

Although Channing at night was a beehive of clandestine activities, necessitating the rigorous vigilance of the Secret Police to track (track) most if not all of it, there was by no means any laxity felt during the daylight hours either.  

Whether it was a brazen act or a foolhardy one, Wenjenkun’s Minister of Internal Security- Egil Viggoaries held the most secret meetings of his coterie in broad daylight right under their noses, disguised of course as official acts or plausible social calls. This afternoon, the members of the Inner Circle of the Order of The Black Molochs that were gathered in the meeting hall were particularly restless. They were all bound together by an intricate system of complex initiation rituals, secret oaths, and ceremonial intermingling of living blood, and it was one of their own who would be tried before them now. At the proper time, the news of Zhadol Borym’s capture, and subsequent incarceration had reached them all. Whether they admitted it or not, Zhadol had ingratiated himself with all the members of the Order's Inner Circle and, as the veteran member of the group, most owed him a favor or two.  

04- COMANDER ZHADOL BORYM

  

Mindful of this stiff opposition, Egil Viggoaries had taken certain precautionary measures to curb all anticipated appeals on behalf of Zhadol. For some time now he had deemed Zhadol as expendable and already had his replacement waiting in the wings. As a means of demonstrating his incompetence and ineffectiveness, Zhadol had been assigned to a task that was doomed (with certain measure of certainty) to fail. When news of Fradel Rurik Korvald’s safe arrival in the Capital had reached him, Egil Viggoaries had neither been surprised nor particularly pleased. It had merely turned out just as he had anticipated it, although the subsequent reports of Zhadol Borym’s attempted suicide had taken him aback ever so slightly.  

Yes, that piece of news had disappointed, or rather, annoyed him, for he had at least expected, or hoped for a more fitting end to the old pro.  

Of course, Egil Viggoaries would never admit this, even to himself, and would have outright denied that a small part of him secretly harbored a certain fondness for his once lifelong companion. The simple fact was that Zhadol Borym had grown useless of late; he had softened up. Admittedly, the source of this weakness was his relationship with Lieutenant Yennic Zhiborym, and Egil Viggoaries was not above underhandedly manipulating this relationship to his own advantage. Once, at a rare moment’s weakness, Egil had regretted this ploy, but even so he could delude himself only so much. In truth, unable to purge his heart of this seething jealous anger, this dissatisfaction with Zhadol Borym. He had sought by this means to denigrate him, to pay him back for that insolent, ill-conceived act.  

As anticipated, it had been Yennic who had stopped Zhadol from terminating his own life while at the same time covertly abetted in Zhadol’s capture. Yennic thought he was invaluable because he could communicate with the ravens; a claim Egil Viggoaries did not truly believe, thinking it to be nothing more than a parlor trick. Ambitious cur that he was, Yennic had hoped to advance his own prospects through this act of treachery, only to find he had grossly underestimated the gravity of the situation and the dire outcome, not only for Zhadol but for himself as well.

05- LIEUTENANT YENNIC

  

“Did the worm really think that we would not find out about him; furthermore, that the Order would blindly foster his ambitions? He had some gall (some nerves, cheek). “Egil scoffed with utter disdain. For even if Yennic had been other than what Egil had suspected, he would still be of little use to the Order. Egil Viggoaries ate rodents like Yennic for breakfast.  

“Could it be that he did not understand the Ritual? He was motivated out of true affection?"  Egil Viggoaries, meanwhile, typically turned a deft ear to the sympathetic whispers about Zhadol.  

“Well, no point in delaying the inevitable.” Egil Viggoaries grimaced venomously as he descended the steps leading to the antechamber.  

As soon as he entered the room, they all snapped smartly to attention; heads slightly bowed in ritual submission. At the same instant, a strained silence took hold, enveloping the assembly. With deliberate slowness, Egil Viggoaries strode to the other side of the hall and assumed his position. When seated he scanned the faces of the eleven men before him, meeting their eyes as they stood rigidly erect, hands at their sides, motionless as if they had been cast in bronze.  

Egil Viggoaries’s eyes passed over Lenny Sukzor, resting for an extended period on this replacement of Lance Diostin as he stood farthest away in the circle, least in nominal order of importance. As he sized the man up, he noted how the recruit was puffed up with arrogance and he nodded coolly, absently as he donned a sinister grin. The starkly unoccupied chair to Egil Viggoaries’s right stood as a magnet for the ambitions spread out below him and as a grim reminder of the coming unpleasantness that awaited them at the end of this day's session.  

One by one, the more pressing matters on the agenda were swiftly dealt with. From this point on, the orders and instructions would be relayed to the rest. The eighty-nine subordinate officers who, each entrusted with small, strictly regimented contingents of their own in all corners of the empire, waited in the wings. It was indisputably the most efficient spy network, as well as a competent paramilitary force that was not to be trifled with. It was all the brainchild of one man, Egil Viggoaries, who had constructed the foundations of this network in theory when he was no more than thirteen years of age.

Briefly perusing the preliminary issues on the agenda for the next gathering, Egil Viggoaries then set up the ordinary business aside and motioned for the prisoners to be brought in to face their tribunal. Their trial and sure conviction had already occurred, in the mind of Egil Viggoaries and this scene was a sham, a mere formality to make a sure impression on the others under a pretense of fairness. It was a game Egil Viggoaries occasionally allowed himself to indulge in.

Despite the sure anticipation of Zhadol’s condition, his appearance all bound and gagged and his face bearing the sure signs of grievous maltreatment, which evoked in many of his former comrades the long forgotten, deeply buried feelings of compassion and pity.

06- WARRIOR FRIENDS (33)

No one cared about the inconsequential Yennic Zhiborym, whose face and body bore the traces of the most horrendous and brutal torture; and where once most of his refined, distinctive features attracted many, presently bore the marks of countless lacerations and ugly deep scars.  Yet this fact did not even elicit one furrowed brow; far from it, it pleased them to observe Yennic's obvious tortured state. He was so roundly despised for his role in the capture and vilification of Zhadol. They jeered and gnashed their teeth when viewing Yennic, yet heaved a secret, dejected sigh when stealing a glance at Zhadol Borym. Still, not a single whisper of protest mounted on Zhadol Borym's behalf escaped their tightly sealed lips, so properly intimidated were they by the wrath of Egil Viggoaries.

Nevertheless, in the averted eyes of a more enlightened minority, there were unmistakable indications (marks) of slight visible hint, as they looked for ways to exonerate Zhadol Borym from all blame. Truth be told, they had stealthily harbored the notion that their compatriot had been the unfortunate victim of an odious intrigue and that his failure was but compounded from that original failing.

07- FRIENDS OF COMMANDER ZHADOL

With a slight indication of the chin from Egil Viggoaries, the stone-faced guards pushed Zhadol Borym forward to fall to his knees before the Dark Eunuch. Egil Viggoaries had earned that distinction of being referred to as Dark Eunuch, because of the extreme cruelty of his innate nature and soul.  

Linked to Zhadol Borym by the heavy bronze chains, this action of the guards had also pushed Yennic Zhiborym on his knees, causing the manacles to sink further into the already gaping wounds in his neck, ankles, and wrists. But Yennic’s involuntary cry of pain had elicited only a brief mocking glances from few of the Inner Circle members of the Black Molochs; contrastingly, Zhadol's eyes had held a degree of compassion for the rag doll of a figure who had once been his friend. Looking away from Yennic, Zhadol Borym fearlessly glared round this circle of stone-faced leaders, forcing them one by one to avert their eyes before he next turned his burning, defiant, reproachful gaze to rest on Egil Viggoaries.  

“So, all these years of loyalty (loyal service) and intimacy counted for nothing? Now I am discarded like a dirty rag. I protest this injustice; I do not deserve this disgraceful treatment!”  

Despite the rush of memories Zhadol's defiant, intrepid manner had brought to Egil Viggoaries’s mind, he had remained outwardly resolute and pinned his icy, odious glare (eyes filled with loathing) on Zhadol. “There can be no absolution for your crime! You know the rules, yet you dared to stand stoically unrelenting!"  The Dark Eunuch’s furious roar suddenly broke the tense, eerie silence that had enveloped the room.  

"Death is death!" Zhadol Borym spat the words out of his bloodied, bruised mouth as he glared back at Egil Viggoaries. Bristling with anger, he cried out in a voice that crackled with hatred and revulsion. "My only crime is that prior, I tried to cheat you out of the great satisfaction my death would bring you. So why defer your perverse pleasure? Get on with it!” Then, scornfully, he added, "But have you considered all the possible ramifications of your actions?"  

Egil Viggoaries reared upwards like a viper (cobra) and hissed, "Are you finished?"  

"Finished; no, not by a long shot!" Zhadol Borym defiantly countered. As a condemned man he had little to lose, and he was determined to face his end with stoicism and a certain dignity. He spoke fervently, "We all know you sent me on that fool's errand knowing I would fail. You deemed I was expendable, and you wanted me to be supplanted (replaced, offed). But why should you go to all that trouble?"  Then Zhadol Borym gave a derisive laugh.  

All present in the hall quaked in their boots for his dared effrontery. Zhadol Borym may be a doomed man, yet they knew that Egil Viggoaries was not one to be provoked.   

“Such prodigious (immense, outstanding) audacity (nerve) Zhadol Borym had!”  All eyes were pinned on Egil Viggoaries, trying to gauge the cruelty of his response. Unfortunately, the Dark Eunuch's stone-cold face said it all.   

Even though Egil had remained outwardly, atypically placid, the threat was implicit in his eyes. Furthermore, his icy silence spoke volumes. Zhadol would pay, and oh so dearly, for this (impudence) outburst!  

08- EGIL VIGGOARIES - THE DARK EUNUCH

Lieutenant Yennic , unwisely (foolishly) at this point summoning all his strength, girded up his courage and edged forward, ready to use his glib tongue, while it was still attached to his mouth, to plead for both their lives. Before he could speak, however, he was struck flat by the stout, heartless guards. No one wanted to hear from Yennic at this juncture; he was nothing more than mere vermin.  

"I warned you," Zhadol’s reproachful and dismayed look said to Yennic, as he shook his head. 

"But would you listen? Would you listen to good counsel? (pay me any heed?)"  

   

Even though Zhadol knew it was useless, his compassionate heart nevertheless urged him to plead on Yennic’s behalf; Yennic might be spared small measure of punishment, if Zhadol humiliated himself enough, to appease Egil Viggoaries’s perverse sensibilities.  

Surmising his intent, Egil Viggoaries grinned. "You would do better to plead for your own self." He leaned forward to sneer (jeer, taunt, hiss) venomously.

"Would it do any good?" Zhadol Borym sternly asked.  

"No," Egil Viggoaries glowered down at him, "but it may amuse us and we may then possibly show some measure of leniency in the severity of and (length) span of time of “TK Cuts,” before your demise."  He was of course blatantly lying. There would be no mercy; his face contorted in a snarling grin as he leaned back once more to scan with narrow, pitiless eyes on the faces in the room.

“Ten Thousand Cuts,” Zhadol Borym winced and swallowed hard. "Why so severe a penalty?"  He then got a grip on his senses and, again defiantly, incredulously, shook his head.  His horror meanwhile was impromptu (involuntarily) mirrored on the faces of all those assembled. Suddenly, the profusion of images, those wretched beings, and the anguished cries of the past victims, which Dark Eunuch had doomed to this manner of death, now paraded before everyone’s eyes, and echoed in their ears.

Zhadol, despite his outward stoicism, inwardly could not help but recoil in horror, for he knew all too well; the prolonged suffering (of appalling shame, ghastly anguish) that awaited him in the depths of dungeons below before his life finally was terminated! His body, now defiant of his will, slightly trembled, and his knees threatened to buckle under him.  

“That’s a terrible way to die!” All eyes in the circle implored Egil Viggoaries. “This is not right; his crime is not grave enough to warrant such punishment. He is, or rather was, one of us.”  

Despite his ashen face, his quaking muscles, Zhadol Borym bit his tongue and clenched his fists, refusing to give Egil Viggoaries more of what he wanted, knowing in his heart of hearts that it would not do him any good. Even so, was there no one there brave enough to raise the slightest protest, the least objection for him? A fleeting tragic smile crossed Zhadol’s lip and then changed to a grimace of contempt as he looked. No, spineless cowards were all; he stood alone in all of this. After Zhadol’s eyes had searched the faces of his fellow associates, it had then abruptly caught Yennic's bewildered look and, fearing the worst for his partner, Zhadol turned his questioning stare back on Egil Viggoaries.

Answering the unspoken question with a venomous grin, Egil Viggoaries nodded.  

“How could I have expected any different?” Zhadol Borym lowered his eyes and ceded the point, pained that Yennic Zhiborym, too, awaited the same ill fate.  

  

(END OF SECTION 1)    

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 22

Zonar was about to take his leave when he just then having picked up Nevetsecnuac’s subsequent thoughts, for a brief spell inquisitively stared at his nephew.

“How very perceptive of you. You are indeed an astute nephew.”

01-ZONAR - IMMORTAL (46)JP

It so happened that ever since the Prime Minister's party where which Nevetsecnuac had encountered the alien Cassar, Samnuk, though this part of his memories had been erased, he still had the enigmatically foreboding, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. The unease had stemmed from the fragmented, cryptic, and disjointed images that had oftentimes intruded into his mind's eye, which he had never been able to rightly resolve or decipher. Until just now that is- when from an inadvertent, illogical notion (a thought deviation), it had all come together to make a coherent deduction (sense, conclusion).

Nevetsecnuac had understood then that, once a link had been established between the entity in the amulet (that was an alien rock spirit imprisoned in a watery grave) and the host- it held an eternal and vital importance to, in this case Zonar's, existence. Overall, the amulet and the single creature within was indestructible; and it could always be retrieved. This realization generated within Nevetsecnuac the keen sense of relief and the need to repay at least in some small measure, Zonar’s kindness to him, by communicating this insight to Zonar, before his arch-nemesis Dwengzur, got hold of the amulet.

Before Nevetsecnuac could verbalize his thoughts, however, Zonar knowingly just then had smiled and held up his hand. "There's no need to caution me; however, I do appreciate your bother." He grinned as his hand unwittingly clutched the hidden bulk (at chest level) under his chemise (blouse, top).

 “I have already retrieved it. “ 

What Zonar, pressed for time, had opted at this point not to disclose to Nevetsecnuac however, was the fact that this amulet which held within it a seditious Cassar creature, this one originally called Mokak, had once belonged to his father Zandar (Chandor) Kuntzu.  A rush of historical facts, all the same, intruding into his brain, Zonar pensively looked away:

In primordial times Cassars, species that were innately, by nature supercilious (haughty), odious (vile), and oftentimes ruthless (brutal, savage), had once been the catalyst of the catastrophic dissention (discord) among existing ancient races.

02- A WARRIOR CASSARS

These primordial races, set against one another, the once supreme elite powers warring over several millennia had all consequently one by one had been eradicated (purged and extinguished). After another two millennia the Cassars, result of a long-drawn-out war, fortunately had been finally and utterly (rooted out) defeated by the omnipotent (invincible) Race of Karn. As sole remaining custodians of this world, by consensus of the elders of Karn, they had spared (the few remaining) Cassars from total annihilation only to imprison them, meanwhile allowing the mortal species to have the sole dominion over Earth. Since that time spanning several centuries now race of Karn, had secretly coexisted with men, dwelling in the remotest, highest elevation of the icy peaks- all the while, affording humankind that certain measure of safety, as the few mutated  Cassars - (the resilient ones that had later, due to the conditions of their incarceration had evolved into entirely different form, which Samnuk and Mokak were of) - had been indefinitely imprisoned in the protective water crystal amulets.

03- MUTATED CASSARS ( MOKAK IS ONE, LATER NAMED JEKOR)

 These amulets presently worn only by the elite members of the Karn Race had always been considered a bane to be endured till the end of time; because each Karn from since then had incessantly perceived (was aware of) that specific creature’s every sensation, discernment, impressions, shrewdness, and experiences, most of it abhorrently vile! 

On rare occasions, when an immortal for some reason or other ceased to exist (died), his amulet was then transferred to another suitable candidate. When Mokak became available, the most Ancient one Aegeus had bestowed the amulet containing Mokak to Chandor, at his third birthday’ special ceremony.  And so, Mokak from hence had been Chandor’s ward, till the date of Chandor’s (renegade immortal Zandar Kuntzu’s) untimely demise in the mortal realm.

04-ZANDAR (CHANDOR) KUNTZU - IMMORTAL (2)jp

Cassars had always been endowed (gifted) with supernatural prowess, but Mokak, (later re-named Jekor by Zonar, Zandar Kuntzu’s twin son) being an anomaly, with a split personality, being also a clairvoyant and an adept shape shifter, was an additionally challenging, most troublesome bane that,  Zonar like his father Chandor before him had to,  most of his adult  life, endure. A small consolation, at least Zonar had not been burdened with this menace during his youth; for as toddler Zonar had been secreted away and spent his early childhood years under the diligent care and tutelage of human foster parents, flourishing as a well-loved, robust, brilliant mortal being.  Zonar’s contented existence, however, had abruptly ceased (ended, altered the moment Chandar had died)- as he had been then inexplicably drawn to this, albeit temporarily, liberated alien form.

At distant locale, the Cassar Mokak being quite resourceful, upon the sudden demise of (Zonar’s father) Zandar Kuntzu, had successfully affected its escape from his liquid captivity and thence, was let loose in the mortal realm.

Consequently, Zonar’s mundane human existence from that moment on had had a catastrophic, tumultuous modification: for his prior placid, methodical (organized) mind had incessantly since then warred with his body. Any lesser being had gone utterly insane by such onslaught. Zonar, harangued by the inexorable physical ailments, sporadic pain, perpetual nightmares and physic torment, had been eventually driven to seek out (search for) and uncover the truth about his true lineage and worst still, discover the existence of the imperative (indispensable) birthright bond, the eternal, crucible (tribulation) link with Mokak. This was because Zonar and Zandar, father and son, had shared the same key genes (chromosomes); subsequently, Zonar had been forced to steadfastly hunt (retrieve) Mokak, to enslave him and to regain his prior sanity (control of his brain) and his physical wellbeing.

05-MOKAK AND HIS ALTER EGO

Pursued doggedly by Zonar the adroit Mokak, to avoid capture and to gain substance and therefore be imperceptible to detection, had striven hard to blend, in other words copulate, with a mortal living being. After several unsuccessful tries, where which Mokak’d left behind several charred human remains and a range of mammal corpses, he had eventually attained through the process of elimination, the essential specifics to triumph. Primarily, it had to be an adult female, still virgin, with the rare blood type (AB-). Secondly, the mortal concept of love, the kind of ardor which human couples had often exhibited for one another, had to exist at the time of consensual union; the absence of any of these key ingredients would absolutely doom the procedure (experiment, the modus operandi).

 By quark of fate, while hiding away at the furthest Province of Wenjenkun’s inhospitable, remote mountain, Mokak had encountered Jiense (Princess Teuquob and later still, Prince Nevetsecnuac’s wife) during her flight from danger. (To learn more: peruse, BOOK 2-THE ORDEAL- SECTION 8 or earlier sections).  

After the alien creature’s stealthy scrutiny, finding Jiense a perfectly compatible candidate from then on Mokak, had set his sights onto seducing her and achieving his goal. To disarm Jiense’s fears, he’d right away quickly assumed the appearance of a rather pleasant looking, bold headed, clean shaven young man about her age; then manifesting suddenly before her, Mokak had presented himself to her as one supposedly from an aristocratic family from Kontu that had fallen on hard times and then become a devout Monk who presently, was on a religious pilgrimage.  

 Mokak could have done an irrevocable harm to Jiense (Princess Teuquob) and to his (Zonar’s) nephew, Prince Nevetsecnuac, as well, permanently altered Wenjenkun’s history. Fortunately, and just in time too, Mokak (re-named Jekor ) had been traced, captured, and then duly contained in an amulet which at present, was worn by Zonar.

Zonar grimaced and considering the alternative loath outcome, pensively looked away:

If Dwengzur had obtained Jekor, the genetic markers of the creature within the amulet, if tampered with, would have only resulted in the destruction of the alien creature and that abrupt severing of ties, could have had its own serious repercussions. Even if Dwengzur did not do this but had kept it for a while, for malice, to simply torment him (Zonar) and destabilize him, the outcome still would have been devastating. This narrow escape, hence, peeved Zonar.

Zonar’s thoughts reverting to Nevetsecnuac’s bizarre ordeal with another troublesome Cassar, Samnuk, which happened to be Dwengzur’s ward, Zonar could not resist the temptation (chance) to provoke (antagonize) the haughty Elders of Karn and specifically Dwengzur, addressing him directly:  

“I was there you know, witnessing Samnuk’s defiant acts; I was the innocuous fly at the tip of the nose of one of the spellbound, frozen human participants (guests). I saw it all. I heard it all.” Zonar staring across, at the far corner of the room, had roguishly derided (taunted). Subsequently, he snickered, sensing his goading had generated (produced) rampant venomous thoughts teleported to him, as it had simultaneously thawed a degree of the immortals’ icy blood.

06- SOME ELDERS OF KARN (LOOKING DISPLEASED)

Zonar nevertheless quickly suppressed his present glee (delight); then, he turned his serious but affectionate gaze back on Nevetsecnuac. 

“Yes, one might say you fared well in that terrible altercation. You, a supposed primitive human, have taught them a fine lesson they soon will not forget; furthermore, they will not be so quick to underestimate your kind in future.”

"They… Who are …?" Nevetsecnuac was puzzled.

“The unwarranted and outmoded eavesdroppers….” Zonar disdainfully snorted and looked away, and then turning impatiently added, “Extrapolating your prior concern, let us just say I had a hunch, so I went back for it. After all, it was a keepsake from my father.” 

 “Now I must bid you my fond farewell."  Zonar turned to go but then stayed (halted) his footing and ceased mid-way his mumbled incantation; after a brief consideration, he simply shrugged.

"Oh, why not; I can see no good reason why you should be kept in the dark."

Despite the looming danger Zonar lingered just a little while longer at the spot to bestow on his nephew, Nevetsecnuac, a fine parting gift.

Subsequently, with a wave of his hand, Zonar created a circular opening in the mid-air of the room- a window of sorts. His face temporarily sported a strange, acerbic expression as his disdainful eyes taunted and then threatened the far away foe.

To the utter disquiet of some of the Elders of Karn and concealed fury of Sthetor, Zonar had then invoked, brazenly, the ancient incantation. When he had reached the last part of the incantation, however,

"Do-kume...ke..ki... sooonures do … 

mukenoro qu wuuuos…. Hukoressyonner….”

"Kazuuuummm… “

Zonar had then deliberately added an unknown variation (factor, canto, verse) to it. This would enable, Nevetsecnuac to view the unfolding scene (the live images, the setting and the characters) which had been purposefully obscured (hidden, muddled, concealed) to the snooping (prying) Immortals.  

07-ZONAR - IMMORTAL (37)JP

Zonar next turned with a softer expression to face Nevetsecnuac and, graciously invited him to once more experience and view the mountain cabin of his youth.

The scene presented a typical night-time routine after a hard day’s toil; the occupants of the dwelling having concluded a hearty (nourishing) repast and cleared away the dishes from the table, they had now, before going to bed, few hours' time with which to indulge in their leisure pursuits.  Nevetsecnuac's eyes presently beheld the typical warm and comforting sight in that far away Mountain Cabin, a place that had been for two decades, his home. The rush of countless exciting recollections and loving memories of those times had, all at once then, (with a warm glow) inundated his heart.

08- LORD ASGER THUXUR MARROG ZHON  (162)jp

Through misty eyes Nevetsecnuac now observed how perfectly still Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, having aged a little more, was seated in a familiar pose by the fire. How characteristically, in rapped attention he read those old manuscripts, one a night, pausing only periodically, to deliberate on a concern and at the same time inhaled a prolonged (drawn out) intake of smoke from his pipe.

Nevetsecnuac’s eyes had next trailed to his beloved wife Teuquob, seated with composure, in proximity to the warming fire. As beautiful as ever, she was diligently practicing calligraphy at her desk. Her skill had much improved, far surpassing his!

Nevetsecnuac looking over her shoulder unseen and unheard, marveled at her penmanship and the proficiency of the ink strokes as they effortlessly glided on the (paper) parchment. As though sensing his presence, she abruptly stopped, exhaled a deep sigh and then withdrew the string of wound threads he’d long ago after one of their long walks, had given to her when she had casually asked what he had been doing? He had felt nervous during their conversation and so used his hands to focus on something else. He could not believe that after all that time she still held onto it, that she treasured something so trivial and looked at it now with such longing in her pupils.  

09-NEVET'S WIFE TEKOUBJIN  (70  B )JP

He fought the sudden desire rising within him, wanting to embrace her, to stroke her auburn locks; to reach out and tuck the stray loose hair behind her ear. Oh, how he longed to gently caress her cheeks and then ever so reverently kiss the tip of her nose, which always made her smile, kiss her forehead and those luscious lips.

 His soul and heart were now filled with melancholy, for he loved and missed her so terribly; his present existence contrastingly, had been so driven, austere, and devoid of such candor, tenderness, and tranquility. Moreover, he suspected deep down that he would never ever again be with her or with them.

A sorrowful sigh escaped him as his focus (gaze) lastly settled on his beloved, a little bit older, and now not so identical twins. His precious, robust (strong, healthy, and hardy in constitution) boy twin Alric Svein and darling, most precious girl twin Lueling, as they with wonder glint in their eyes observed (studied) everything and all, about them as they played.  

Only the child’s vastly rich imagination could flourish (enabled) and hold such wonders as twins remained deeply absorbed, intensely captivated by some imaginary yet ordinary item (object): perhaps a specter, a crawling bug, a bird, a simply fallen log, a crackling flame, or a discarded, a plainly innocuous toy.  

10- THE TWINS , BOY ALRIC SVEIN AND PRECIOUS GIRL TWIN LUELING.

Nevetsecnuac’s heart was again wrenched with melancholy anticipating the many dangers and hardships that awaited them, even though Lord Asger would do his utmost to shield them from it all.

“You are being way too morbid.” Zonar’s testy, stern words snapped Nevetsecnuac from his ominous reflections.

"You should instead rejoice in your heart that you have such striking and gifted twins, perfectly well behaved too; funny how the boy is the spitting image of you, whereas the little girl now resembles more and more your astonishingly beautiful wife Princes,

Teuquob.” Zonar softening, grinned mischievously as though entertaining a secret; but

                                                                                    

                                                                              ~

 

one he was not willing to divulge, not at this moment in time. “Imagine if Lueling had instead, looked like you.”

Nevetsecnuac remained quite unresponsive to Zonar’s purposeful banter however, as he could not tear his eyes from the scene. He watched as though obsessed, oblivious of the tears filling his eyes.

 The fearful emotions, of trepidation about their prospects, once more welling up in his heart, Nevetsecnuac broke away from the scene by a sheer act of will and turned to ask Zonar if he could enlighten him on their probable futures, but the renegade Immortal had already gone, vanished into thin air, without a sound or a trace some time ago.

 Disappointed, Nevetsecnuac (spun his head back) turned to look again at the scene in mid-air, but the window that beheld his beloveds’ images, too, had also disappeared as if it had never existed. Suddenly the light was gone as well, and pitch darkness once more had blanketed (permeated) the room.

His emotions, meanwhile, erupting akin to the cyclone winds (or, charged akin to lightning bolts); Nevetsecnuac simply collapsed in the chair by the bed and closed his eyes tightly for some time, to beget (tranquility) serenity, in that thought-filled silence.

“Am I crying?”   

Only then had he become aware of the copious number of hot tears streaming down from his cheeks and chin; the cascading flow subsequently, progressively, drenching (soaking) the upper part of his silk night garment (pajamas, clothes).

                                                                                      

                                                                                ~

 

(END OF SECTION 22)

(CONCLUSION OF THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL- STAY TUNED FOR  BOOK 11- THE EVIL PERSONIFIED)