LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO CAPITAL - SECTION 8

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 8

The ghosts stirred, and many took flights into the distance or into the air, as high as they were permitted to go. But before Nevetsecnuac could accost one of the fleeing ghosts the ground split open with a terrifying noise and a horde of horrendous trolls streamed out of the fiery crevice.  Cracking their whips to disperse the unfortunate ghosts who failed to clear the way fast enough, the ugly trolls, cursing and spitting, carved out an open, direct path to Nevetsecnuac.  In their wake there emerged from the chasm, where red hot flames now shot up on high, two most grotesque, most hideous Demon Guards, half human, half beast, with barbed tails between their legs, lolling tongues, jagged, razor-sharp talons, saw-like teeth and blazing, glittering eyes (orbs) set in leathery, blue faces framed by horns and frizzled, raven black hair.

Standing fifteen feet tall, they were truly more fearsome, more gruesome, and more nightmarish than anything Nevetsecnuac had ever seen or imagined.

The terrified ghosts, clustered at a safe distance, sobbed loudly and cringed apprehensively, knowing what awaited him.

Gnashing their rows of teeth, hissing and spitting, the Demon Guards swaggered menacingly towards Nevetsecnuac.  One unlucky young ghost who had failed to clear the way, paralyzed as he was in fear, drew the unwarranted attention of the lead Demon; finding this ready gift irresistible, he halted his advance long enough to reach out with his razor-sharp talons towards the unfortunate spirit.

01- YOUNG GHOST PARALYZED WITH FEAR

Demon’s talons subsequently entered the ghost’s chest cavity and ripped out the prized delicacy, the heart, which he ate in one gulp then licked his chops.  Both demon guards next were about to tear into the remaining flesh to consume the lungs and liver, when Nevetsecnuac, outraged, shouted at them (Demon Guards) in indignation, drawing their attention to him, hoping to spare the poor victim from further torment (anguish).

The other spirits, knowing what they knew, had recoiled in terror, while the braver ones with their hearts palpitating, eventually finding their voices, despite their shuddering, whimpered thoughtful warnings to Nevetsecnuac, but it was too late.

One of the Demons, pinning his fiery gaze on Nevetsecnuac, shot two iridescent red beams from his pupils and paralyzed Nevetsecnuac where he stood; it was implicit (understood) that his turn would come soon enough. Rendered helpless and unable to close his eyelids, meanwhile, Nevetsecnuac witnessed the unfortunate ghost being torn limb from limb then devoured ravenously by the two Demons.  The trolls standing by, looked on hungrily but not daring to intercede and claim even a miniscule share, hoped instead for a (forgotten) scant morsel to be left behind.  However, to their disappointment, the two demons even fought over the entrails, and then settled leisurely to crunch the bones until nothing at all was left of the poor ghost.  Then, belching jarringly (dissonantly), the Demon Guards rancorously advanced upon Nevetsecnuac.

"You're to come with us.  You have a lot to answer for." The leader growled then, with one of his talons (like a hook) piercing the top of Nevetsecnuac's skull, he led the way as he dragged Nevetsecnuac down into the hellish fires.  The agonizing pain Nevetsecnuac suffered as he was hauled away was so intense that he fought to maintain his consciousness (awareness, cognizance).

Down in the depths of the netherworld (Hell), in that surreal topography (landscape) the glowing fires raged everywhere. 

02 -NETHERWORLD

The stony, wabbly path they were on led across a bridge which was flanked on both sides by an abysmal plummet, that intermittently cocooned chambers of horror from which emanated ghastly, heart-rending screams and wails.

 Nevetsecnuac was thankful he could not see the imagined atrocities; nevertheless, their anguished cries grated on his ears as the stench of burning flesh assailed his nose. Subsequently, these unfortunate ghosts, rather what remained of them, were thence (thereafter) ravenously devoured by the rowdy groups of demons seated at long tables. An adjacent chamber revealed a still more ghastly, terrifying sight; there a giant beastly head, its huge mouth filled with row upon row of molars, was being fed human souls by other Demon Guards.  The beast with no body was grinding up the unfortunate souls between his teeth like a millstone.

 Nevetsecnuac flanked by the two Demons, enduring (experiencing) violent vertigo, was dragged across a suspended tall bridge, constructed over a fast-flowing river of blood. Dark crimson and foamy swirling whirlpools periodically revealed giant vipers that were devouring the cart loads of ghosts (ones who’d ended their life prematurely via suicide,) now being steadily dumped into the flow from the banks.  In their frenzy feeding these snakes churned the water so high that the bridge overhead perpetually (swayed) shook unsteadily. 

03- SNAKES FEEDING

The piranha infested bluish ponds came into view next; here the waters boiled as the swarms of flesh-eating fish in their feeding frenzy instantly stripped off all there was of those guilty of gluttony, avarice, spite and malevolence. Unceremoniously dumped into the churning, lighting-streaked waters, where all flesh disappeared right away down to the skeletal bones.

More horrific still was the Hill of Blades beside it, penalty reserved for the worst of humanity, including mass murderers.  Their minced (diced) pieces of flesh were quickly picked clean by the scavenging vultures that hovered noisily overhead.

Eventually Nevetsecnuac and his captors passed through a pair of pronged bronze gates guarded by two fearsome Bull Demons and entered a dark, elongated hall dotted with part-beast, part human, demons, resembling tigers, wolves and hyenas lying or sitting, panting, their tongues lolling, licking their chops.  The high walls, even the ceiling were made entirely of human skulls and bones crawling with flies, maggots, and worms.  The floors beneath Nevetsecnuac’s hauled (lugged, dragged) feet were all paved with crushed bones.

They approached a second set of doors, guarded by fearsome, grotesque giant Demons with halberds.  The bronze framed, purple ingrained cinnabar doors opened with a creaking, grinding sound onto a large vermilion hall, at the head of which was, seated on a dais and leaning against a desk, passing judgment, the most monstrous, most hideous looking Underworld King, Dekiletgan.

On either side of Dekiletgan, the half-human, half-beast fearsome demons holding standards on two-pronged spears were drawn up in tight, impenetrable ranks.  Standing in attendance off to the left side, holding stacks of files, was a tiger-headed Official. Next to him stood the hunchbacked, fox-headed, human-bodied clerk who, before the handling of each case, perused it carefully then passed the appropriate dossier to his superior.

As Nevetsecnuac's turn came the Demon Guards released Nevetsecnuac from the spell of immobility, prodded him forwards and forced him to his knees, after which they bowed and respectfully stepped aside.

The Demon King Dekiletgan, fixing his hard gaze on Nevetsecnuac, ordered the prisoner to approach the bench and state his plea, part of the empty, meaningless formality.

Nevetsecnuac, nevertheless, respectfully  prostrated (bowed-down) low and stated briefly his grievance; after which, he eloquently implored His Honor to grant him a second chance so as to fulfill his destiny and avenge all those that had been wronged, adding quickly that his own fate mattered little to him and, once his task was complete, he'd most willingly, without a qualm, would succumb to extreme tortures of Hell until his penance was paid in full.

Nevetsecnuac's courage and loyalty impressed Dekiletgan.  Favorably disposed to granting him temporary amnesty, the fiendish King turned his attention to Nevetsecnuac's dossier before him and opened it.  However, he had read only a few lines when he exploded in a sudden, great, all-consuming rage.  Smoke emanated from his nostrils; fire flashed from his pupils.  "What blunder is this?" he thundered. Checking his anger summarily however, but glaring at the tiger-headed Official, he summoned with a wave of his hand both the tiger-headed Official and the fox-headed clerk to approach the bench.  After being questioned at length, both were exonerated from all blame.

The Demon King Dekiletgan (pinned, turned) reverted his fiery, blazing eyes next to Nevetsecnuac.

"Because of your stupid blunder," he fumed, "all my records are now botched up!  You are guilty of the most heinous crime and deserve the extreme penalty of this court!  Even after the term of your penance, there will be no appeal, no reprieve for the likes of you."

Then, hastening the procedure, Dekiletgan passed the severest sentence upon poor Nevetsecnuac, at the end of which Nevetsecnuac was condemned to becoming a non-entity for eternity.

 "Take him away!" commanded the Dekiletgan as his final order.

"No, I refuse to abide by this hasty, unfair verdict, this travesty of justice!" Nevetsecnuac protested indignantly.

04-NEVETS ARGUES HIS CASE BEFORE THE UNDERWORLD KING DEKILETGAN

 "You call this a just ruling?  Where is my purported day in court?  I demand I be given a chance to vindicate myself!  What kind of court is this that tramples on truth, integrity, justice, and probity?  I will not deny that of which I stand guilty.  Even then, there were extenuating circumstances and legitimate, valid reasons for my actions.  No, I'm not seeking a total, or even a partial acquittal.  My singular wish is to gain a chance to fulfill my obligation.  No!  I will not be silenced, not until I get what I want!"  Nevetsecnuac stomped his foot defiantly.

"I demand to be heard!  Let go of me, you beasts!"  As Nevetsecnuac struggled and fought hard to free himself from the ever tightening, constricting bonds that had magically appeared on him and, trussed as he was, ducked, bent, and swerved to escape the full impact of the needling, piercing talons, sharp claws and silver rods that mercilessly targeted his head and body from all directions.  "Nooo... “

"Hah?" just then he came to with a start.

"Where am I?  How did I get here?" Nevetsecnuac asked out loud, looking-about him wildly.  To his great relief he found himself to be no longer in Hell but on Earth.  He was amid a thorny bush with clinging runners tightly wound around his legs and waist, restricting his movements.  He was soaked to the skin from the pounding rain. 

05- NEVETS  IN THE RAIN (23)

He looked down and saw his feet totally submerged in a pool of water up to his knees; meanwhile, he could sense many bloodsuckers, having found their way under cloth (his trousers), gorging on his blood.  Disconcerted by this; however, "Zonar?"  Instead, his hand reached up and felt his throat that was still throbbing in excruciating pain right where he had imagined, or dreamt, that Zonar had inflicted that deep gash. His mind still clouded with incomprehensible jargon, he saw wild, strange, bizarre visions flashing intermittently, dancing before his eyes.

"How on earth did I get here?" Once more he raised the question in exasperation as he jogged his memory and tried his best to recollect the very last thing that he did or had happened to him.  Meanwhile, with slight difficulty, he succeeded in weaving his way out from the grasp of the thorny bushes and, by pulling, tearing at the adhesive, sticky tentacles and runners that stubbornly clung to his hair, skin, and clothes, he eventually freed himself.  With bewildered eyes Nevetsecnuac then scanned the surroundings in search of his horse, but he had wandered into a no-man's land and here the dense forest permitted only scant light as thick, lush, tall vegetation choked the ground, obscuring whatever lay in its bosom.

His only chance, he knew, was to get to a higher ground and survey the wider perimeter.

Traversing the ascending, snaking path recently carved, obviously by him, Nevetsecnuac emerged finally out of this nightmarish gorge.

Using a small dagger, he kept concealed (in his boot) for eating purposes, he carefully scraped the bothersome bloodsuckers off his skin.

When the tapering rain just then ceased and strong winds, sweeping the clouds away to the west, created a window in the sky for the sun to peep from, Nevetsecnuac concluded from its position that it was late afternoon, which meant that three-quarters of the day had been, prior, lost to him in a shroud of mystery.  Fortunately, at present, his mind had cleared, and his senses were fully restored to normal.

Seated comfortably on a boulder, he tried to recollect the very last thing he had done, which, in all probability, had contributed to his hallucination. It quickly came to him: “Yes, just before dawn he had dug up some edible roots for sustenance.”

 “Could it be that particular?  No!”  He shook his head in disbelief.  He was certain that he had made no mistake on that account.  He had eaten that root hundreds of times with no consequence.  In the end, however, he had to concede that, perhaps in this part of the country, the same variety had evolved, triggering hence, detrimental effects on humans.

“In that case,” he inwardly noted, “I had best avoid that particular root altogether.” 

This was most disconcerting because, having come this far, he could not now jeopardize his aim.

Reflecting on his vivid hallucination, his combat with Zonar, his wretched, frustrating experience in Hell, Nevetsecnuac nodded with a wry smile, “It seems there is some measure of truth in these mountain folk tales and superstitions, after all.  Fortunately, I’ve survived it unscathed, but what of my mare?  I must seek her out right away; she could not have wandered too far unless she's fallen prey to some predatory beast!”

Fortunately, he'd taken the precaution of keeping the identity papers and summons on him.  Still, without a horse and a scholar's formal attire, Nevetsecnuac knew he could not advance in speed, to meet the deadline, nor could he present himself on foot in the Capital as Fradel Rurik Korvald, without arousing some unwarranted suspicion and dubious curiosity that might jeopardize his enterprise.

As he searched for his horse, there was yet another nagging concern in the back of his mind.  “In a perilous duel he had clashed swords and fists with Zonar, with neither of them gaining the advantage or besting the other.  Up until now, he had thought they were equally matched, but did this bizarre hallucination in some way portend a future encounter with, perhaps, graver consequences for him (Nevetsecnuac)?  Was his delirium a premonition, a warning not to engage Zonar?  Yet, what if Zonar was already in Channing (Imperial Capital City of Wenjenjun) to carry out precisely the purpose he had claimed in the illusion?”

 “No,” shaking his head, Nevetsecnuac dispelled that preposterous notion.  Zonar was too honorable for that.

Deciding to reconnoiter more extensively and, to get an aerial/panoramic view, Nevetsecnuac quickly climbed the tallest ancient tree.  As his eyes scanned the distance far and wide, to his elation he suddenly spotted, a lone horse resembling his, which had just moved out from under the broad-leafed canopy to graze beside a creek which snaked through a clearing beyond the next hill.

06- HORSE

 "Excellent!" Nevetsecnuac exclaimed in satisfaction.  Then his eyes sought the path which he had inadvertently strayed from.  Finding it, he traced it to where it met up with the old main road, barely visible from his position.  Having set firmly (etched) the direction and all pertinent obstacles in his memory, Nevetsecnuac climbed back down from the dizzying crown of this ancient tree with the nimble agility of a monkey. After which he hastened as fast as his legs could carry him, traversing the rough terrain, to reach his mount before dusk.  The spooked steed, none the worse for wear, bolted at the first sight of Nevetsecnuac then neighed and trotted warily, but did not run away.

Approaching her cautiously, Nevetsecnuac took the mare by the reins, gently stroking her long mane to erase her fears then, vaulting into the saddle, wheeled around, and galloped along the descending course in the right direction.

 

                                                                                           ~

 

(END OF SECTION 8)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 7

01- NEVETSECNUAC  (JP)

Nevetsecnuac, as a just then released floating spirit witnessed his out-of-body tragic demise: He saw his catapulted, airborne head hitting the immense boulder a few feet away with a thud while his decapitated body that same instant simply collapsing lifeless to the ground. And ironically at that very moment, the drizzling rain drops amalgamating (merging) with the gushing blood from the severed carotid artery (of the neck), in that cumulative pool, instantaneously dyed (tinted) the pretty white wildflowers that Nevetsecnuac had been so fond of, into scarlet (crimson) hue.

Before the ground had a chance to completely quench its thirst, Zonar, with a sinister, venomous grin, thoughtful air and leaden steps, walked over to Nevetsecnuac's severed head and, halting at the spot, summoned it up to the strange object in his grasp. The bloody head was slowly but surely was absorbed (infused, seeped into) by the object, disheveled hairs and all.

02-  ZONAR KUNTZU - 2 (9)

Zonar with a malevolent grin, he then dramatically kissed the knob(handle) and, throwing his head back, ejected horrid laughter, after which he indifferently tugged it beneath his belt; his blazing sword sheathed (in scabbard, casing)  and, with a cold glint in his eyes, never looking back, not even once, he swaggered slowly towards his tethered mount.

Summarily, with Nevetsecnuac's head permanently imprisoned alongside Fradel Rurik Korvald's, both within the leather-bound rod object, Zonar vaulted onto his magnificent steed and galloped into distance.

                                                                                      ~

Nevetsecnuac’s soul (essence, spirit) already restrained (held captive) in the netherworld, meanwhile, riled and despondent, he’d watched Zonar’s unimpeded departure with his prizes.

Hearing a shuffling noise behind him just then, Nevetsecnuac quickly turned to witness the large gathering of troubled, grim apparitions. As these ghosts drew nearer still and floated to encircle him in a tight, impenetrable cordon, some clasped their heads and tore out clumps of their hair, tragically wailing while others shook an accusing finger at Nevetsecnuac and cursed or severely reprimanded him.

"It was your vanity that made you vulnerable and made you fight that devilish villain."

"You should have resisted him."

"You should have set your priorities right at the start and saved your strength for the chief culprit instead."

"You received ample warning not to engage him, why did you not heed his advice and flee to safety at the start while you still had a chance to do so?  Now you have forfeited your life and your life's ambition is lost forever in vain. This dreadful ending should come to pass- after your honorable father the benevolent Seventh Prince Shon Alric Therran Valamir, the illustrious Lord Shonne Gulbrand and the heroic Lord Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and countless others sacrificed so much to avail you of this chance. Oh, calamity…oh such misfortune!"

"This letdown is inexcusable!"

"You should be sorely mortified, ashamed of yourself!  Ashamed to face the Lord of Heaven; that is, if he ever designs (condescend) to see you."

"Oh, what's the use?  Why should we waste our time remonstrating with you?  You are beneath our contempt!" Some scowled.

"It’s because of you that we are all now doomed, doomed; with our last chance of salvation gone forever!"

"Ah, it’s no use.  It’s too late; too late for everything; too late even for regrets."

Other, kindlier spirits were not so hard on Nevetsecnuac, though they still condemned him.

"Were we wrong in pinning all our hopes on you?"

"Did we overestimate your abilities?"

"Perhaps it was too much to ask, to expect of one lone (solitary) mortal, as young and inexperienced as you, to rectify this wrong.  Still, your uncle Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon taught you well.  Furthermore, you had great potential, and you did overcome all the other prior perils."

"Was it fate that played this cruel, oh cruelest trick on you and us by bringing forth this obstruction at this latest stage?"

"But, chance or no chance, you should have succeeded.  You can't escape, can’t be absolved, not entirely, from all the blame.”

“With your innate intelligence, could you not have assessed your situation in time to salvage it?  You also didn't have to fight him to the bitter end, especially after you realized the hopelessness of your situation.  Isn't retreat a good part of any fighting strategy?"

"Therefore, our brothers are right in condemning you.  The fault lies entirely with you."

"You are solely to blame for not living up to your full potential."

"Look how badly you fouled things up!"

They shook their heads and ground their teeth in anger.

"You, our last hope, have let us down so miserably.  You failed to avenge us, just when success was within your grasp."

"Why did you have to go throw it all away?  If only you had not succumbed too…"

"Ah, what's the use?  All is now lost with no other worthy one left alive to champion our cause."

"What could be more tragic than this?  Forever barred from Heaven, we, loyal subjects of Wenjenkun, your illustrious forefathers, we are all condemned to roam this Earth in chains for all eternity.  This is the gravest consequence of your failure!"

"Woe to us!"

"Woe to them!"

"Woe to you!"

03- NEVETSECNUAC IN THE UNDERWORLD

Nevetsecnuac's soul, standing in doleful (forlorn) supplication, bowed his head still lower in shame, regretting his folly in underestimating Zonar's prowess, for not fleeing when he had the chance.  He wanted so much to implore their forgiveness but, though he tried, no one took any notice of him.  Instead, the din of their legitimate grievances and the intensity of their repeated wailing deafened his ears and silenced his tongue.

"After the siege, when defenses failed and I was captured alive, I was flailed (flogged) to death, but not before witnessing my comrades’ crueler demises, those that fought bravely alongside me, being torn apart or crushed to death." one wailing ghost came forward to demand.  "I suffered so many unspeakable hardships in my earlier life.  I'm suffering so much now.  It’s inconceivable to think that I, we all, will not be vindicated, that we won't be avenged at long last.  Oh, will this wretchedness never end?"

04- WRETCHED PLACE

"Stone missiles raining on us day and night within the confines of fortress, the tragic cries of the wounded (or the maimed) trapped under the collapsing walls and beams, still haunts my ears and robs me of any peace (solace)." Another came forth to profess.  "Is there really no other left alive, competent enough, to avenge us?"

"My whole village was burned to the ground by the imperial troops." an elderly woman whimpered.  "None escaped the searing flames of this deliberately set catastrophe.  How can all these tragic souls roaming this earth find any peace or lasting rest without being avenged?"

"Our village was flooded.  Men, women, and children drowned to give Zakhertan Yozdek’s army the advantage in a naval assault.  Can they all have suffered for nothing?"

"Our homes were razed to dust." Yet another wept.

"What about his infant children?" one sympathetic soul, came forward to ask.  "Can we not implore Heaven to spare them?"

The multitude of shaking heads told him otherwise.  They could not reach the ears of Heaven.  It was Nevetsecnuac’s fate to perish young.

"My loyal regiment fought a desperate battle to the bitter end in our defense of the besieged Kosuk City.", the tired, somber voice of an old general exclaimed, reminiscing.

 "We were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of Zakhertan Yozdek's army and by their superiority in arms.  His were the picked troops, the best in the land.  When they penetrated our walls and entered the city they committed such heinous atrocities, so vile they were that it could never be wholly described."

Another officer groaned, "In our offensive campaign, just as we had gained more ground, they successfully cut us off from the main body of our army and the supplies.  As we were trapped by an onslaught from four directions, they set fire to the grass around our perimeter; every last one of us perished by the raging flames."

"Our contingent was deliberately isolated from the main force, too and lured into ambush where all expired by their vile butchery." another officer gritted his teeth.

"All the defenders at Juko Pass, including myself, were ensnared, then buried alive.  The traitorous Zakhertan Yozdek's rage still not appeased, he had his henchmen round up our families and had them killed as well, their corpses then piled on top of us."

"In my hometown, all the young men who resisted were brutally trampled to death under the Royal infantry horses’ hoofs in the central square as part of a war game, while we, their parents and families were made to watch, till our turn came to die."  The elderly man sobbed then, choking back his tears, added, "But my poor, proud, brave boy, he cursed Zakhertan Yozdek, that vile usurper, to the very end."

“I've heard some of these atrocities before.” Nevetsecnuac tearfully reflected. 

Some had been re-counted by Lord Asger Zhon prior to Nevetsecnuac’s departure; several more accounts had been relayed by Fradel Rurik Korvald erstwhile the night Nevetsecnuac had left him; and then a great deal more had been narrated by the faithful Lu Moldan, the beggar from Gulbrand Province.

“Was Heaven blind? How could it stand by and let the fiend (man) who’d been the instigator of these immeasurable crimes, not be struck down? Zakhertan Yozdek, the villainous usurper… With these grave crimes against humanity on his head, how could he still exist…to?"

"My precious, most handsome boys, one barely sixteen, the other seventeen,” Another elderly woman had shrieked just then, however, interrupting Nevetsecnuac’s incensed (feelings and), exasperated thoughts.  “They were dragged through the streets and afterwards their tattered corpses were thrown over the falls! “She turned and with upturned face and a mouth showing sparse teeth, she snarled at Nevetsecnuac next. 

 “Now look at what you’ve done… It’s all because of you, Zakhertan Yozdek will live to a ripe old age!"

"Ah, the brutality of Zakhertan, the extent of it can never fully be told."  Adjacent to her, an ancient ghost with white beard down to his midriff shook his head and then mournfully nodded.

"His wolfish troops and murderous guards were given liberty to run amok in our city of Kier.  They inflicted unspeakable atrocities of the innocent populous, young and old alike."

“Now… take a good look.”  He held out two round orbs in his hand. "These eyes, I plucked them out in my grief after seeing those appalling acts committed at the hand of the barbaric imperial troops, which afterwards, many officers standing on the sidelines, treating it as entertainment, even placed wagers on the nature of the outcome of the wounds. 

06- ZAKHERTAN'S WOLFISH  TROOPS

“In my province, the tombs of our ancestors were indiscriminately defiled. “Another ghost chimed in. “They trampled over the dead, excreted the coffins (caskets) and cast aside dismembered corpses, looking to pillage valuable funeral offerings and items within the graves.  Even an invading enemy nation would not have been so vile, so unconscionable, and so despicable; alas, terrible evil has shrouded this land!  I cursed the day I was born and shed many bloody tears for all the unfortunate souls, including my own.  What crime have I committed? I have asked this of Heaven, repeatedly…But no answer has come. You tell me, what crime have we, any one of us committed that Heaven has so completely forsaken us?  Yes, you were our very last hope.  Was it unfair of us to expect so much from but one youth?  Tell me, please, would someone tell me why we must suffer so?  Will this tragedy never end?"

"How many more must perish at Zakhertan's cruel hand?"

“Wow to us…Pity… oh pity us…”  The wailing reached a crescendo (climax) with increasingly more spirits (ghosts) joining in.

“Is there really nothing I can do to atone for my mistakes?  “Nevetsecnuac’s heart incessantly wrenched with disgrace and bottomless sorrow while blazing remorse, eternally scorched his soul to cinders.

Clenching his fists, he bowed his head low in shame. “Is there anything, anything at all, I can do to make amends, to redeem these tragic souls?”

 Not resigned to this ill fate, he lifted his eyes imploringly and made his plea, beseeching Heaven for one more chance.  But hope was not to be, instead, Nevetsecnuac saw his grandfather, Emperor Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir, his father, Seventh Prince Shon Alric Therran Valamir and the other members of the Royal Family all, being escorted down to Earth in chains. 

His grandfather Emperor Zuronghan A.T. Valamir turned to glance at Nevetsecnuac with solemn air and disapprovingly shook his head.

Endless tears coursing down his cheeks, Nevetsecnuac rushed to at once fall on his knees and respectfully prostrate himself before his grandfather, to beg forgiveness.

The emperor, with a grave face, gave him no chance to speak and right away scorned Nevetsecnuac, "You are not worthy of being our grandson nor are you fit to approach our Royal Presence.  Be gone from our sight!"

07- EMPEROR ZURONGHAN ALRIC THERRAN VALAMIR

The Emperor Zuronghan Valamir then, with great dignity, turned his back to Nevetsecnuac.

In unison, the rest echoed the sentiments of the emperor and each, in turn, abruptly turned their backs to him as Nevetsecnuac tried to make his appeal or implore their forgiveness.

Lord Shonne Gulbrand’s apparition, bound in chains as well, became visible just then but His Lordship also shook his head in disapproval and, shedding a solitary tear, he also turned away and floated into the distance.

In deep dismay, Nevetsecnuac shook his head and stamped his foot. “If only I had not…

 Had not what?” This was something entirely different.  As confusion set in, Nevetsecnuac racked his brains to recollect, “Recollect what?”

Though Nevetsecnuac knew it was only mid-morning, the Earth that instant suddenly fell into twilight.  The overwhelming, grave atmosphere heralded (portended) a new gargantuan disaster or a colossal catastrophe.

 

(END OF SECTION 7)

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 1

 THE LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 1

After the joyous event, Heaven continued to smile on the inhabitants of that remote Mountain dwelling as each continued with their daily routines in blissful co-existence.  Typically, as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, what they did not know, and could not have foreseen was that, in another part of the country, far, far away, the green-eyed providence had already dealt them the hazard card.

It so happened that the ever-present peril Brant Dustin and Duan, by a quirk of fate had just then attained that singular advantage when, on the heels of several bizarre coincidences, their persistent unholy quest brought them to the vicinity of Heaven's Gate Spiritual Temple. 

Previously, (akin to) resembling two mounted specks, they had spurred their horse’s day after day in an unrelenting gallop to cover considerable ground in one of the most expansive and hostile regions. Having long since lost his bearings, Brandt   nevertheless had done his utmost to keep up with Duan’s unbelievable stamina and furious speed.  In all that time, the latter, a poor company grunted few begrudging words, and this only at nightfall while they partook (ingested) dried sustenance in advance of the negligible, brief respite by the makeshift campfire. Even this slight measure, Brandt   suspected, Duan had only acceded to solely out of consideration for their mounts.

 Solitude or grueling schedule was not the worst of it, Duan’s indifference, his oftentimes manifest condescending side glances or that intolerable, periodic wry grimaces, compounded Brandt’s ire making him yearn for a diversion: even an onslaught from the fiercest bandits was preferable to this!  Brandt   who’d spent most of his life in the hub of a densely populated Capital city, in effort to escape this abhorrent monotony, recently had allowed himself certain secret indulgences of ruminations concerning   those barely passable human habitations and the odd myriad characters and the ensued events that had by degrees, with each leg of the journey gained more significance.  He was amid one such, when just then detecting the slight wisp of dust beyond the next hump (hill) of this irregular, sporadically forested landscape, Brandt   sat up straight and elatedly turned his head askew to speak, but meeting Duan’s mocking, sardonic smile, he quickly checked his tongue.

 Duan simply nodded then spurred his mount in that very direction. Before long they had come upon a very welcome sight, a cluster of devout pilgrims with their necessary entourage, as it was the usual time for the pilgrimage, trudging along and at times managing with some competence, the narrow gravel corridor that cut through a difficult terrain. Knowing at the end of their route there would be a place of worship Brandt   grinned wryly, constraining   his rather bursting excitement. Inwardly however, he was delighted at this unexpected reprieve from the elements and looked forward to ingesting hot meals and resting his weary bones in sure to be a more suitable lodging. The last thing he expected however was the unreasonable, staunch resistance from Duan. Eventually, when Duan’s amusement and the hilarity of Brandt’s ingenious arguments grew tiresome for Duan, he then feigning   to have been persuaded had tersely consented to the plan and the brief stay at the Temple.

 At dusk they stealthily approached the group that had pitched camp and, expanding only a slight effort, obtained the necessary items (religious artifacts) and garb. Now appropriately disguised, at first daylight they quietly adjoined the ranks of countless pious affiliates seeking routine salvation or absolution.

Subsequent days, the resolute snaking line descended then ascended the strenuous, oftentimes challenging, winding path to finally arrive at a clearing before the towering imposing arch.  All pilgrims now welcomed, right away gongs were sounded with a deafening   noise, after which the thick metal gates slowly creaked open to pave the way. The enthusiastic devotees without (apparent) ostensible, serious scrutiny or hindrance, with that unmistakable excited aura all streamed in through the wide-open gates to crowd into the courtyard.

In no time at all the well-organized Hostellers succinctly saw to it that all pious visitors were duly registered, their special needs promptly addressed, and all were comfortably settled in their assigned quarters.

Likewise, after meeting the necessary expenses, Duan and Brandt   were also assiduously escorted to their modestly furnished quarters. Duan’s apparent preoccupation did little to mitigate Brandt’s disdainful air. Forgoing idle chatter, he had disappeared the moment Brandt’s back was turned, and upon his return, refused to give any explanation for his long absence.

That evening’s repast (at the Refectory) was tad too plain and coarse for Brandt ’s taste, still, it being palatable enough than most other places there’d been too, and feeling famished, he’d had his fill and washed it all down with refreshing liquids, mistakenly forgoing digestive tea.  Thus, in the small hours while all patrons and devotee guests were dead to the world, Brandt   moreover suffering dyspepsia, had endlessly turned, and tossed. Sometime or rather, he must have fallen asleep, for then he was cast into the throes of the same nightmare that tortured his soul.

In this horrific dream, once again he saw himself in that most wretched state, suffering the eternal torments of Hell. His hair disheveled, clothes torn, bleeding from countless lacerations, he was being subjected to the worst kind of humiliation and excruciating pain inflicted by those abominable, vile creatures of the underworld. Contemptible eunuch Egil Viggoaries was there also, he was in charge, laughing up a storm as he devoured the entrails of yet another poor victim squealing in pain, while at the same time he poked and prodded the unfortunate captive.

His father in the adjoining cell, suffering the infinite unspeakable tortures and beleaguered and besieged much in the same vile way, between his anguished, accusatory screams cursed Brandt   incessantly for having failed to avenge him. “Damn you, damn you coward…You are no son of mine! Oh, I should have killed you in your crib, while you slept and be done with the shame you have brought upon me…Shame, oh shame, shame!”

His anguished soul pushed to the brink Brandt; yet again (same as always) willed himself awake from this inexorable, unvarying nightmare.

 He lay still; casting his blank (vacant) gaze about for some time, inwardly striving hard to reassure his soul, his being of his actual present status, for his ears persisted in ringing with those hurtful curses! When after an extended period those relentlessly vivid, dreadful images of the nightmare refused to recede, determinedly he sprang from the bed, quickly dressed, and then exited the room for some breath of fresh air.

 After a time, still reluctant to return to sleep, he strolled aimlessly about the grounds. There were smaller temples dotting this sector, each housing a different God to accommodate different regions of the Country. Depending on need, devotees’ (aficionados’) visited the specific Deity, made offerings, and burned incense to it; then in supplicate, prayed or asked favors. Brandt   differing in his religious beliefs from this order, he cared not for the temples, images of Gods, their idols, or the elaborate displays.

After only a cursory glance at one such temple, Brandt   wrinkled his nose in disgust, turned, and headed out of the building. He strolled through the embellished gardens dappled with fountains and ponds teaming with rare fish, but once more he found nothing extraordinary to warrant his interest, he had seen far better elsewhere, so he bypassed these also to reach a more desolate area (corner).

Now, in addition to the usual sentries posted at the gate and the lookout towers, each night a different pair of monks were assigned to walk the grounds. Shunning   all of these, Brandt   took the unusual course, delving into forested segments, and by following unfrequented paths he emerged through the bushes at the (Dorter: which was the monk’s dormitory) private quarters of monks.

He was about to turn back when his sharp ears just then picked up the hushed voices of a couple of monks engaged in jovial conversation. His eyes searched the compound till he spotted a barely visible, dim light emanating from the stilts of one of the windows, a detached dwelling at the far end, nestled amidst the pines. Intrigued, he stealthily advanced towards it. The windowpane was left a tiny bit ajar to allow the fresh night’s air to come in. Brandt   quietly drew close and hiding in the shadows, he was poised to listen.

Whereas most slept blissfully (in their private cells), resting from days grueling chores, this odd pair was animatedly indulging in private conversation whilst sipping periodically from a cup that from time to time got refilled from a jar.

Brandt’s curiosity peaked, same time he was amused as he became more certain that this was no ordinary tea or other such sanctioned refreshments in which they were partaking.

"Brother Muro, I feel I must make a mention of this." One of them suddenly exclaimed in a pressing tone.

"What?"

"I am of the opinion that those two are not of our following."

Brandt   smiled wryly, grasping at once the subject of their conversation being himself and Duan.

"You’ve sounded (echoed) my own suspicions, Brother Fayet,” the other interposed.

"Perhaps that is why the High Priest granted them no audience and why they were allowed only a paltry couple of night’s stay."

"I was under the impression that couple of nights, was all they had asked for." Fayet countered.

“You should know,” Muro checking his annoyance, grunted.

"It’s not as if they can’t afford a lengthier stay; their money purse is weighty enough. Pity they will miss all the major events. Come to think of it, neither showed the least bit of interest in the religious itinerary, citing pressing engagements elsewhere! What did they hope to accomplish in this short span, I mean, why bother to come at all, why not postpone it till another more opportune time?”

"I am in total agreement with you, brother Fayet; yet no orders are given to keep them under close scrutiny or any sort of surveillance. As far as I know, no one is assigned to their case.” Muro fell silent and waited for confirmation that was not long in coming.

“You are correct on that assumption. “Fayet responded with a certain air of importance. He should know; he had three or four sources that always kept him up to date with anything of importance.

“Tell you what though, I think this is a grave oversight; why the dark complexioned one, the mere mention of him makes the hair on my neck stand on end, there’s something frightfully evil and unholy about him, and certainly I am not fooled by their humble, reserved almost pious attitudes.”

 "I concur.” Muro interjected. “They look quite formidable and if I dare venture a hunch, on the prowl for something deadly. And not in the least bit interested in absolving their decidedly massive, accrued sins. And know what else?” Muro gasped, "I can't shake the feeling that they leave death and destruction in their wake. This I feel deep in my bones to be true. I only hope their bad intentions aren't in any way directed at us or at the Order, especially now that we have grown so complacent within this last decade."

"Complacent, no, it only seems that way to you perhaps. But know what; you may have something there, especially about that one. He strikes me as someone quite ruthless and bloodthirsty too." Fayet thoughtfully intoned, as he stroked the top of his head.

Astute observation, Brandt   grinned. Wonder if it is enough to save your hides?

 "As it were, I did hear something about them asking some pretty strange questions before they retired." Fayet excitedly, recalling it to mind just then, put in.

"Really, what kind of questions; and whom did they ask? I was led to believe with their disdainful air, they had hardly dispensed a word to anyone, not even to brother Cui assigned to tend to their needs."

"You know I can’t enumerate; I’m always lost on fine details.” Fayet was being coy, maddeningly so. Seeing the frown on Muro’s face, he relented. “But if you must know, I just overheard Priest Lu raising certain objections about the strangers to Priest Nui."

"Fine one you are, stringing me along than leaving me high and dry. Are you trying to teach an old dog a new trick?"

"Ha and why not? But really, Brother Muro, I am being straight. I really do not know the true extent of their questions.  If you are so curious, why don't you ask Priest Lu next time you see him."

 “You know, in all the time I've been here, I have never encountered a stranger personages as these two save for that other bunch, you remember, the one-armed man's group last year and all that deferential treatment they got, even though they’d shown up at such an unusual time.”

Their idle chatter and useless bickering had by then begun to grate on Brandt’s nerves and he was about to take his leave, when the sudden mention of the one-armed man rekindled his interest.

Brandt   leaned over and peered through the crack unseen, to get a clearer view of the two conversing monks.

“You do remember them, right? “Fayet waited to receive a nod from Muro before continuing. “But at least they were pious, and I can say it with measure of certainty, very much in earnest with their prayers; after all, they did partake in all the religious ceremonies so hastily organized on their behalf. Our discerning   Abbot sure was interested in them and I believe Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn truly did enjoy their company…particularly the one-armed elder. His Eminence Boqast Tizanzenn conversed with him endlessly it seemed, something I had not seen the Abbot do in a long, long while.  Come to think of it, not ever! I mean, he is always so reservedly serious and seeks solitude.”

To this Muro gravely nodded in concurrence. “Hmmm, as I recollect, giving in to your suspicious nature for a long spell you did entertain colorful, hilarious suppositions about them also. Is it possible you could be just as wrong now? “

“I still say there was something quite intriguing, even mysteriously fantastic about that group, more so with that golden haired youth.”  Fayet responded indignantly, irritated and even bit hurt by the other’s persistent doubt where this matter was concerned.

"Now, what was it again,” Muro with his innate sadistic nature, could not resist needling him further. “Yes, now I remember. You had based your entire hypothesis on that list and the unfounded claim that the eldest of them had inscribed on the prayer requisite form the deposed monarch, Zuronghan  Therran Valamir’s and, what other name, oh yeah, Zhon something.  Hah, and this you had supposedly uncovered despite it being carefully erased by the alleged culprit!  Really, do you still assert the claim that they were spies?"

 

"A fine confidant you are!” Fayet, knitting his stubby brows hotly retorted. "Why don't you just below louder and announce it to the whole world? Walls have ears you know or is it your intention to land me in serious trouble! You said you would never mention it, is this how you keep your word?"

Muro’s gaze mockingly swept the room (immediate perimeter). “You see anyone else here? three or four odd ghosts, ha, ha” He snickered, shaking his head.

 “You have always been far too paranoid brother.  All are peacefully asleep in their beds already, only a fool would be out of a warm bed at this time of night when they don't have to be." Observing the other’s rising foul mood however, he relented.

 "Oh, why be so touchy, brother? I was just toying with you."  In a serious tone then he quickly added. "Besides, you know as well as I, nothing further came of it." 

At this juncture (point in time) Brandt, stepping out from the shadows turned the knob, brazenly walked in and said, “That remains to be seen.”

The startled Fayet and Muro both jumped up, spilling the contents of their cups.

"Oh, it's you, sir.” Muro, recognizing Brandt, quickly found his tongue.

Fayet getting a grip was about to coolly castigate (rebuke) this rude intrusion when Brandt’s poignant look promptly silenced him.

Concealing his contempt for the two for more can be attained by a glib tongue; Brandt   in the next instant however, sporting a wry grin (false smile), somewhat congenially, accosted them and extended his polite greetings, as well, his seemingly sincere apologies for the sudden intrusion that had inadvertently alarmed them. Then getting right to the point, he asked, "Please do not be offended but, though I did not mean to, I’ve accidentally overheard the singular topic of your conversation regarding the one-armed man.” His blunt speech had left no room for denial.

  “Be assured that this information shall be kept in the strictest confidence.” smiling, in a more conciliatory tone he then quickly added. “It so happens that I am searching for one such person. But first, may I inquire after the one-armed gentleman's name so as to be absolutely ascertained that we are speaking of the same being."  He paused for a response that was not forthcoming, checking his rile nevertheless, he sternly added, "The individual I am seeking is named Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon".

 Though he had observed the slight discoloration in Fayet’s face (cheeks), Muro had been far better at masking his shock and threw Brandt   a curious, stupefied look, as if to say, “Have I heard you right?”

Brandt   disregarding this, in an even tone asked further, “More importantly, may I inquire how long ago the visitors been at these premises, and upon their departure which direction did they take? I am disposed to showing my proper appreciation as well my discretion, for any such useful information either of you gentle monks may deign to impart."  His hand rested on the bulge in his garment where his money purse rested.

What a gall! What nerve! Muro thought. Barging in here without shame, blatantly playing a cat and mouse game with us than assuming we are bribable. After all that, am I supposed to accept that his intentions are perfectly honorable?

 

Fayet inward queries were similar in nature, though slightly more selfish and deviant. How can I be certain that, after he extracts the information, he would not then expose my indiscretions, a sure violation, to my superiors? Though, I confess, the size of that purse is mighty tempting!

 

In the end both had decided to play it safe. "Sir, you must have misunderstood our repartee, (banter) hmm, idle conversation. We really made no such reference to any such person.”

“I’m in agreement with my fellow monk here.” Muro quickly interjected, even though he knew it would be a futile act. “We tend to exaggerate facts during our discourse, a harmless feat really, for the purposes of spicing up the exchange. As for the name you just mentioned, you must surely jest. Was that not the traitor Lord whose name you spoke of, long since dead?"  Frowning, he added, "Besides, for your own safety's sake, you should not be stirring at this late hour so far from the guest compounds. Suppose we mistook you for a prowler and caused you unwarranted harm?"

"That's right", Fayet stupidly chimed in, "for, on top of that, at night many evil spirits are abound."

Muro turned a furious face, an unconcealed irked glare at his friend.

"Both of your concerns are touching", Brandt   mocked, "but I am most capable of defeating all manner of foe, whether it be man, ghost or goblin, so you needn't be concerned for my safety.  Now, gentle monks, please do not insult my intelligence any further with your muddled contentions and flimsy excuses. Perhaps I have not made myself perfectly clear.”  His icy tone biding no argument, sent chills down Fayet’s spine. Even Muro felt the slithering unease taking hold of his entire body. “You shall be well compensated for your troubles; as well, I mean to extend to you both, my utmost discretionary tact.”

I do so detest such arrogance.   Still with the cat out of the bag … Fayet had already begun to relent; very much tempted he was, with the promise of generous funds. Besides, if I do not take the initiative Muro surely will. Then I would feel horrible; wouldn't I, having lost this golden opportunity?  Still, I will have to exercise due caution for there is a lot at stake here. Can I do that, I wonder, and still benefit from this deal?

Here Muro differed in his contemplation, being the worldlier one of the two; meanwhile he could not shake the overwhelming sensation of peril and being trapped. Unable to decide on the right course, frightened of Fayet’s innate weakness, the two exchanged guarded, dubious looks.

Whatever the reason (cause), they both held their tongues and donned an annoyed look instead, feigning disapproval at this stranger's audacity.

Brandt, on the point of losing his patience, what had just then crossed his mind, if they had only known, would have sent more icy chills down their spine, and cast their souls to flight. 

Unlike Duan however, Brandt   knew when it was wise to constrain his murderous intent; for these temples with their strong political backers, could land him in grievous, unwarranted trouble that could hamper his cause. So, with admirable restraint, he again addressed them.

"Sirs, this pointless delay is beginning to try my patience."    This time there was no mistaking it, his insidious smile, deliberately, did not mask the vile murderous intent that had registered fleetingly in his eyes.

Fayet (assimilating this) did his best to slow his beating heart, to purge his mind of those frightful, ugly thoughts but his sallow (pale) complexioned face still contorted with fear. He opened his mouth to comply when Muro held him back by tugging at his sleeve.

"We know not of his true identity, sir, being only lowly monks, otherwise we would not have referred to him only as the one-armed man.” Muro’s indignation anew fueling his courage, he stood his ground.

“You must discretely pose your question to one more knowledgeable than we, perhaps to Prior Skceno.” Fayet suggested meekly, not wishing to be undone.

"Very well, then. I will trouble you no further. Good night gentle monks."  With that, Brandt   turned to go.

All the blood in his veins rushed hotly to Fayet's face. He now regretted his hasty lie, having come this close to receiving the sum of money. What was I thinking of? Is not this fear imagined? This is a fortuitous blessing that Muro and I stood to gain. Is there a way I wonder; can I recoup (redeem) this rare opportunity?

Fayet was a grasping man by nature, and he was now dismayed over the possibility of letting all that money slip through his fingers. Eventually he decided that all was not lost yet, he could still catch up with latter if he hastened. He on some pretext therefore quickly left his friend. But no sooner had Muro retreated inside, and his door was closed shut than Fayet with certain agility, sprang into action and rushed to accost the stranger.

In truth Brandt   had dallied with his advance, anticipating the expected outcome. Hearing Fayet’s call, Brandt   stayed his steps and half turned. Fayet straining   to maintain an even breath, hastened at once to apologize, offering a flimsy excuse for his show of hesitancy, then broaching a matter disguising the query, sought to learn the amount the stranger was willing to proffer.

 At this point Brandt   gave a sly smirk then, opening   his purse held the sum in his palm as bait. Out of earshot of Muro, Fayet sang like a bird, spilling his guts out to tell every detail he could think of, that pertained to Stark, his group and much, much more.

After Fayet finished saying all there was to say, Brandt with his contemptuous smile nodded his head and made a pretense of accidentally dropping the sum at his feet just as he was about to hand it to Fayet.

The monk was forced to bow to the stranger's feet to pick them up one by one, and when he straightened up (rose) with the collected, gleaming sum, the other had already gone.

Muro had watched this disgrace from a concealed position at some distance. Rage swelled within his chest as he shook his head in indignation at the shameful conduct of his friend. Coming forward now, he fervently grumbled at Fayet.

"How can you allow that man to humiliate you in that way?” he stormed, shaking an accusatory finger at Fayet.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"He purposefully dropped that money to make you lose face. Have you no shame?"

"No, it is you who are making things up to embarrass me. You are just jealous because I received this sum instead of you."  Fayet trembled with rage, then calmed a bit to say in a milder tone, "Brother, don't you know that I mean to give you your share?"  He drew out a small amount and offered it to Muro.

“I wouldn't touch his money even if I was destitute." Muro spat on the ground as he pushed Fayet’s hand away. He was still furious at the stranger. “Manipulations, threats weren’t enough; he had to insult you as well.”

"What did you say, Brother Muro?” Fayet pretended not to have heard.

"Oh, forget it!” Muro huffed exasperatedly as he turned to walk away.

"Hey, wait up. What is with you anyway?"  Fayet swiftly deposited the entire amount into his inner pocket, rushed to catch up with his friend.

                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                  ~

(END OF SECTION 1)