11-LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 7

Looking at his useless son, Zakhertan Yozdek, despite his misgivings, was reminded of the prince’s beloved, and now deceased mother, Lady Elin Yozdek.

01- LADY ELIN YOZDEK (2)jp

 

Herleif bore some resemblance to Lady Elin; for one thing they both had penetrating, honey-brown eyes, and long lustrous auburn (chestnut) hair with loose, sheen curls. Lady Elin had been the only woman who had come close to earning not only Zakhertan’s deep affection but also his unqualified respect, which was no small feat by any means. Though Zakhertan had taken several wives since, none had come close to comparing to her noble stature, brilliance of mind, beauty or sensuality or the other special talents and attributes she possessed. Still, it did not redeem (deliver) her from a grievous, gruesome end at the hands of her admiring husband when Zakhertan had found it necessary to be free to marry Idona, then Prime Minister Adelram’s daughter.

This had been but one of the many steps he had taken towards the realization of his grand design, and all of them had required sacrifices of one sort or the other.

“All the more is the pity,” he mused, studying Herleif’s face, “the boy has gained none of her (Lady Elin’s) characteristics when he inherited her looks.” Zakhertan knew that Prince Herleif had benefited nonetheless from his remorse at killing Lady Elin and that this had been yet another reason for his tolerance, of this unworthy offspring, this exceptionally long. But all that was going to change now. His heart once more turned to stone, Zakhertan glared at his son.

Without the Sovereign's permission to speak, prince Herleif, burdened with documents, had stood rigidly in his abject stance even as Zakhertan moved unexpectedly away from the window and came swiftly towards him. Zakhertan not uttering a word, circled his son like a predatory beast (or a hunting hawk), his steps coming to an abrupt halt, when his back was Infront of the closed door. In sharp contrast to his son, the Sovereign presented the very picture of might and authority that could inspire awe and fear in any man. Flashing in Zakhertan Yozdek’s icy, penetrating pupils just then was a single, somber calculation that caused Prince Herleif’s hairs on the back of his neck to bristle (stand on end).

"Well, what is it you want?"  The words, outwardly innocuous, were harsh and abrasive, their tone speaking volumes full of disapproval and contempt. Zakhertan noted with disdain how Prince Herleif had involuntarily flinched at the sound of his voice then as the fear was quickly mastered and the prince spun sharply about to face him and bowed respectfully, Zakhertan felt a certain satisfaction but hid his amused smile.

Prince Herleif, formally addressing his father, briefly stated the purpose of his visit.

"Very well," Zakhertan consented brusquely. "A few minutes, that’s all, I will spare you."  He gestured sharply, beckoning his son closer to the desk as he returned to sit once more in his plush chair.

With the outward appearance of patient parent, Zakhertan with a stern face heard prince Herleif out, all the while lending only a disinterested ear to his son's theoretical babbling. Prince Herleif on his part relayed in measured and lucid speech how, having been beset by disturbing dreams, he had consulted the positioning of the stars in addition to the oracle provided by the bones. To be ascertained (to ascertain the facts), he had shaken the bones for the second and third time only to reach in every instance the same outcome for the reading:  his illustrious father Zakhertan Yozdek and the Wenjenkun kingdom faced a bad omen. Soon, (in a noticeably short while) after a Nationwide upheaval, the definite downfall of the present regime was forecasted. Braving his most esteemed, sovereign father Zakhertan’s wrath, therefore, duty bound Herleif had come forward to forewarn his Majesty of this fact. The prince then asked permission to elaborate on the details necessary to substantiate his claim.

02- PRINCE HERLEIF YOZDEK (4)jp

Much to his delight, Herleif received a begrudging, stern nod from Zakhertan. Quickly he unfolded the first of his charts and proceeded to give an interpretation to the intricate geometrical diagrams and particulars which he had meticulously drawn, marked, and outlined.

Glancing at these, Zakhertan Yozdek noted how the drafting was so fine the piece could be considered an exceptional work of art solely on its own merits. “Why couldn’t his dastardly (burdensome baggage) son akin have shown, skill with military charts? At least then his talent could have been utilized, instead of this absurd gibberish, hogwash.”  Though he would never own up to it, Zakhertan was in fact, quite adept at astrology himself, having employed it during his youth many times to justify actions he had wished to take. Presently, taking in the details at-a-glance, he had briefly deciphered it already for himself, long before Prince Herleif had finished his explanation, inwardly concluding that some of Herleif’s interpretation had been right on the mark. There was one curious variance (discrepancy) however that Herleif had entirely missed; there were not one but two stars, directly positioned one behind the other, that it could easily be misconstrued as one. The juxtaposition of planets and stars meanwhile, were quite precise, right down to the birth of the new star, already much brighter than the star of Zakhertan Yozdek’s, which was ever so slowly moving into the ruling position in the constellation that governed the state of Wenjenkun. The future the fates foretold was quite obviously that of his dynasty's downfall at the hands of one, which would then be followed by another, a rising Sovereign to be. And the timing of one would be quick but not the other, at least not as quick as Herleif had predicted.    

Zakhertan at this point reflected how just last night in the Royal Observatory he had discerned (perceived) this new manifestation in the constellation but was disappointed to note that, its position and timing precluded it from being in any way related to the birth of Prince Magnian. Now that Zakhertan saw the chart laid out in front of him like this, he noted with slight trepidation, how close the first star was to the house of the former rulers. Could it be? No! Zakhertan dismissed the notion instantly. Even if he could have survived, the likelihood of that happening was ridiculously far-fetched. Zakertan chastised self. Besides, when had he ever attached any credence to such superstitious nonsense…  Ravings like these were useful only for amusement and for manipulating the gullible, nothing more.   

 Zakhertan turned his attention back to Prince Herleif who had just then unraveled the second diagram on the desk. This one was exceptionally crafted as well. “The wimp has a real talent here; too bad it is wasted.”  Taking no stock in what Herleif was saying, Zakhertan’s conciliatory mood abruptly dissipated, and he disdainfully scoffed, “So what if Herleif showed promise, had excelled in the black arts of Astrology and Alchemy? This vast knowledge would not serve him at all in the end.”      

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Zakhertan Yozdek recalled Herleif’s spitefulness and how his shrewish and ruthless applications of his knowledge and power had, in the past, won his son more enmity than praise.   

Crown Prince Herleif meanwhile having misinterpreted Zakhertan’s habitual inert mask (which Zakhertan wore at such boring times) and encouraged by his father's unusual tolerance, pegged these signs as interest. Consequently, with an overflowing enthusiasm that colored his words, he began to elaborate further on his hypothesis. Herleif had never known anything resembling to affection from Zakhertan Yozdek and was now having difficulty properly gauging such an alien concept. This was the closest he had come to an approval by his cold-hearted parent, and he had erroneously assumed that, for the first time, he was making some headway in communicating with Zakhertan.     

At one-point Zakhertan with an unreadable expression rose from his seat and hands clasped behind his back, walked over to the window to again stare at the outside. As there had been no command for Herleif to stop, the prince had continued with his incessant babblings. The prince Herleif’s bewilderment at Zakhertan’s reticence (silence) was shared by Neru who, having just finished with his task of burning the most trivial of the day's documents was standing at unease (disquietly) in a corner of the room mentally noting all that was being said as he awaited the Sovereign's next command. Zakhertan at present appeared temporarily distracted by one of the brightly plumed songbirds which, after finishing its bath, had alighted on the windowsill to fluff its feathers and dry off thoroughly.   

Contrary to appearance however, Zakhertan from the corner of his eye (in a side view) had observed (noted) how Herleif had quickly untied the knot binding of the last scroll and, with a completely inappropriate flourish, unfurled it (across) on top the desk. Instantly Zakhertan’s attention was riveted to the stiletto that, previously hidden in the scroll, had now been exposed. It was the most common, innocuous kind of penknife or a carving knife; it was not a weapon of choice for any would be assassin. Still facing the window, Zakhertan waited to see what his worthless son would do next. Prince Herleif, nonplused, stood frozen in his place, fear gripping his heart.   

Without turning, Zakhertan Yozdek barked, "Go ahead, pick it up!" 

03- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (57)JP

All at once the color drained from the prince’s already pallid but now completely ashen face. Trembling from head to toe like a leaf in a gale, he fell to his knees and repeatedly beat his forehead on the floor, vehemently professing his innocence in a choked voice. "I don't know how it got there, your Majesty. I do not. I did not put it there. “    

“I have been set up. Please, father, I swear, I had no knowledge of this. "He continued these denials in the contemptible, quaking croaks that further grated on Zakhertan’s irate nerves.  

“Just as I thought,” Zakhertan Yozdek highly incensed, stared at the giant marble legendary warrior stationed by the stone bridge thirty feet away in the garden, furious with his son for his abhorrent, self-debasing beseeching. Yet this was worse, far worse, than if Prince Herleif had indeed been behind this juvenile attempt. He might have even forgiven Herleif had he the backbone to seriously try assassinating him.    

Zakhertan snorted in utter disgust, “This is unforgivable; he is being made the fool. How did it come to this; who would dare make such a mockery of my, albeit an imbecile, royal spawn (offspring)? I should crush this inexcusable insect now and be done with him, just as I will crush those who are behind this reprehensible farce. “    

 "You are a disgrace!” he turned and snarled at his son; teeth bared. He raised his clenched left fist as if to strike and pulverize Herleif’s skull but abruptly held back, his rage still mounting. In a split second his right hand snatched the knife and flung it with incredible force at the songbird; so agile and quick was this move that the unfortunate birdie did not stand a prayer of a chance. Just as it had spread its wings to take a flight, the blade pierced its chest through and (before its last breath) hurled it backward, pinning it tightly to the ledge.  

"Guards,” The roaring command caused the dumbfounded Neru to jump several feet up in the air. Coming to his senses, he could only cast pitying eyes upon the quivering prince Herleif as two guards rushed in.   

"Take him away!"  Zakhertan pointed to the crown prince, still on his knees. "And give him fifty blows with the heavy staff for good measure, no less and no more."  Zakhertan knew that the hundred strokes that were required in this situation would prematurely kill the miserable wretch.    

“No; death will not come to you that mercifully Herleif, for you have not yet outlived your usefulness.” Zakhertan glowering at Herleif mused.   

Reluctantly Zakhertan also had to admit that, for now, he needed the prince alive for the stability of the succession until the toddler Magnian's chances of survival were assured. With certain distaste in his mouth, he watched the indignant, yet cowardly Herleif being roughly (man-handled) moved away by the guards. They had gripped him by the arms and, being much taller than the prince, they were holding him several inches off the ground.  

“Of course, you could never inspire respect in anyone, could you?” Zakhertan scoffed then signaled the guards (a slight lifting of the index finger) to wait. Instantly they halted in their tracks.    

"Thank your lucky stars that you are being dealt with so leniently."  Zakhertan strode over to pin his menacing glare to his son’s terrified face. "With each stroke of the staff I want you to contemplate on just why you are being punished. Do you understand me, boy?”    

"Now, get him out of my sight."    

For a man who had celebrated his ascension (ascent) to adulthood some five years ago, being called a 'boy' in front of others was a most demeaning insult, but Prince Herleif completely missed this fine point, as well as his larger, more grievous failure.  

"Father, I'm innocent! Please father, please hear me out." He pleaded as he was being unceremoniously hauled to the dungeons.

    

                                                                                 ~    

 

(END OF SECTION 7)