12- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE PORTENDED PERIL - SECTION 3

At this point Sovereign Zakhertan was startled awake by the howls of human voices; covered in sweat and gasping for breath he at once sprang to a sitting position in bed. His stern gaze now hinged on the fast asleep Sejon, who lay peacefully curled up beside him with that infuriating complacent broad smile plastered on her rosy lips, Zakhertan contemptuously scoffed and looked away.

01- LADY  SEJON  ASLEEP  (91) b

On second thought, as he had brushed aside his dark thoughts, Zakhertan’s eyesight had unpredictably just then clouded over, and his head same time began to swim. Subsequently, a strange purplish miasma filled the room, and when it parted, it revealed the floating, deceased Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir, surrounded by the murdered Princes, their Royal robes all drenched in blood. All the Princes pointing at him with accusatory glare, they called out with silent screams, to be avenged and demanded an immediate, ignominious end to Zakhertan's life.

Outside the chamber violent gusts of wind shook the walls, threatening their imminent collapse. Zakhertan quickly getting a grip on his senses however, jumped up from the bed and, grabbing the hilt of his State Sword, blade now unsheathed, he began stabbing and hacking at the apparitions, only to strike the empty air.

"What is it, my Liege?"  Sejon having just then awakened, her gentle, sweet voice recalled Zakhertan back to reason (sense, sanity).

 "Are you having another terrible nightmare My Lord?" Her subsequent hypocritical angst and persistent queries however, grated on Zakhertan’s nerves and so, his icy fierce glare just then pivoted on her, froze the very life’s blood circulating in her veins. She winced, her tongue stilled, she quickly retreated (withdrew) back into the shadows to conceal her involuntary quaking.

At his point, catching his reflection in the large bronze mirror and realizing his almost humorous state, Zakhertan Yozdek grimaced then, with a huff of derision turned his back to her.

02-  ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (74)

 ~

 

Subsequently, Zakhertan mounted on Night Thunder and riding like the wind, at no time at all, he was back at the North Palace. Though he did not give much credence to superstition, the incredible consistency of prince Herleif’s predictions (the sudden manifestation of a new star which outshone that of present regimes, plus the prophesized resurgence of the old Dynasty after the cataclysmic upheaval and subjugation of Wenjenkun) in conjunction with Zakhertan’s most recent nightmare were such that, they could not be so perfunctorily dismissed.  Both had forecasted the actualization of Zakhertan’s long time innate dread:

That one day a serious peril to his existence would arise from a loyalist assassin or forces colluding with his eternal bane and ardent nemesis Lord Asger Marrog Zhon, who had not only to date successfully eluded (evaded) capture, but had also in all probability, shielded and fostered the last carrier of royal blood, the grandson of Late Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir.  Therefore, Zakhertan had good reason to feel ill at ease, for Prince Nevetsecnuac Valamir would be somewhere in his twenties by now; and, if not him, the prince was old enough to have (fathered) spawned other fair-haired (blond) princelings, one of whom could be the prophesized star that would outshine his in the constellation.

That aside, Fradel Rurik Korvald’s strange appearance in his dream, regardless, had at present marked the passive/ aggressive Scholar for certain ignominious death… Zakhertan, whose life these last few months had been sedentary (indolent, lethargic), he’d been languorous far too long, akin a voracious (insatiable) feline on a hunt for a perspective prey (a mouse, a bird) now, was very much elated (ecstatic) at the chance of hunting, though firstly toying with, this allusive yet noteworthy scholar (the game, target).

Hmm… Zakhertan grimaced (smirked) viciously, A secret summons from the PM, few days prior to the original date, should suffice.

Subsequently, Zakhertan’s thoughts moved to far more irksome concern, namely Qarzten Caimund. Now, why had Qarzten appeared as a traitor in his dream? This had puzzled Zakhertan for, despite his inner foreboding (apprehension), he was (absolutely) certain of the Senior Grand Secretaries’ loyalty.

Would perchance there be an unforeseen future act or event that would cause Qarzten to shift (vary, change) his allegiance to him (Zakhertan)?

  No! after a spell, Zakhertan doggedly (resolutely) shook his head to purge the gnawing bud of suspicion and the consequent dangerous prescience (forethought) from his mind, for as far back as he could remember, he’d always held the firm belief that all men, despite the circumstances or the meddling of the mighty Gods in Heaven, could still chart, sway or alter their own fate; and consequently, should be held directly responsible for that which befell them. 

03- QARZTEN CAMUND (8)jD jp

 Mindful of the recent aberrant events Zakhertan nevertheless considered that it might be more prudent if he recalled Qarzten to the Capital immediately, where he could be (monitored) kept under closer scrutiny. As for the other urgent matter, the (almost) impossible task Qarzten was to oversee after resolving the situation in Bacau and Subain… well perhaps the task could be deferred to another, and Zakhertan had just the person in mind. As it were, Zakhertan could not entirely root out all suspicion from his heart; he believed that the more improbable a thing, the more likely it would happen (transpire); especially with one as resourceful (a vassal) as Qarzten, who would be the perfect candidate to betray him. But then, on second thought, Zakhertan Yozdek quickly (abruptly) rescinded that resolve.

No, it must not be put off; moreover, it was imperative that the precarious situation was discreetly and promptly brought under control; and who better than Qarzten Caimund to manage (handle) that arduous task. Admittedly, Qarzten was still the most competent one for the job; besides which, his hasty recall to the Capital might be the very catalyst that would accelerate or fulfill the dream prophesy; or would it be his (Zakhertan’s) inaction itself that might be the harbinger of evil?

To his further annoyance, Zakhertan Yozdek had just then realized how much despite all, he still depended on Qarzten Caimund’s rare abilities; neither could he deny the strange affinity and near admiration he felt for the Senior Grand Secretary. Zakhertan nevertheless, after a brief consideration settled on sending a covert elite group to monitor Qarzten’s activities and, upon receipt of their report, then take the appropriate action to deal with Qarzten Caimund.

Zakhertan’s thoughts turning next to Lenny Sukzor, a wry grin briefly manifested on his lips; Lenny had proven thus far to be both competent and incorruptible, quite the same way as Qarzten Caimund once had. Despite this, Lenny’ future advancement still depended on his competence at handling this most difficult tasks ahead.

Bearing in mind just then, that in few minutes time he would have to conduct the morning audience, Zakhertan picked up his pace and entering his private quarters, had a brief wash, had a change of clothing, and quickly breakfasted, before heading out again.

 

                                                                              ~

 

Egil Viggoaries quite unperturbed by the previous night’s minor setback of Nijel Pinng’s sudden demise, had typically enjoyed himself this late afternoon at an impromptu shindig.  Much earlier on, a highly acclaimed soothsayer had been abducted, of which there was no scarcity in the Capital since the disappearance of the Mighty Dwengzur, to cast a prediction for them. The mystic warrior Kekos, who happened to be an old veteran priest, a sole survivor, of one of the long ago eradicated (abolished, eliminated) religions, though he seemed ageless, had survived these many years by being adaptable and therefore, now served as an innocuous priest to one of the lesser known, though sanctioned religions in Channing.  

04- SEER KEKOS  -23JP

When the mystic warrior Kekos, cast the oracle bones and then looked over to see their outcome, he had grown ashen of face, akin that of the previous mystic Morke, who had the misfortune of not too long ago casting similar oracle bones at another one of Egil Viggoaries’s bashes. Though quite unsurpassed in the accuracy of his divinations (prophesies) Morke had made the singular mistake of being forthright about the dire predictions and this had consequently, soured (tainted) their night’s enjoyment. Outraged Egil Viggoaries (being quite intolerant of any such disparaging thought/belief to foster and take root during one of his notorious letting-off-steam bashes) had hence, condemned the poor unfortunate soothsayer that very night to a most lingering and cruel end. Of course, the subsequent day Morke’s demise had been routinely covered up and made to look quite accidental on the official records. With a similar fate facing Kekos at present, how could he find the courage to speak of the ominous revelations of the oracle bones before him? Hence concealing at once his dread, his left foot with one agile shove, had misaligned (garbled, jumbled) the two specific bones so as to alter the outcome and make it more ambiguous.

Egil Viggoaries who had in fact some clear understanding of the oracle bones readings and an even quicker eye than the talented seer, had observed Keko’s desperate attempt (an unforgivable breach) to deceive him, only he chose not to let on and later still, before the evening’s entertainment got fully underway, had allowed the soothsayer warrior Kakos to return in safety to his humble abode in the shrine. 

At first Kekos could not believe in his good fortune, that he had been spared the Dark Eunuch's wrath; as the night progressed and sleep averted him however, with that night’s events still running through his mind, the more he thought about those (seemingly) insignificant gestures and innuendos, the more imminent became his portended doom. When the bones had been cast and just before his foot had misaligned them, the vivid recollection of that unmistakable fleeting glimmer of recognition in Viggoaries’s eyes revealing that he had understood far more than he let on, still wildly palpitated Kekos’s heart. And after Kekos had been granted leave and he bowed to the Dark Eunuch in farewell, the latter’s unforgettable, ephemeral cold calculating glance, even now sent spasms of shiver through Keko’s spine.

Kekos presently breaking into cold sweat and dismally gazing at the dark ceiling, he inhaled a forlorn, elongated breath and then let out a dejected, mournful sigh. There was no need to cast another prediction! Unable to erase that rancorous stare from his mind, he knew despite his present good health, he would not last another day. He had heard of the Egil Viggoaries’s abhorrent ways and knowing what awaited him the next day, he desired more than anything to rob the malevolent Dark Eunuch of his perverse pleasure. Why should he wait for the odious end, which would most certainly befall him. He had considered for a spell of fleeing, but where would he run to, he had no family, no other affiliates of the old order he could seek shelter with. All had been vanquished long ago; he was the sole survivor of an old religious order that no longer was.

05- KEKOS

Kekos walked over and gazed at his physical reflection a long while in the tall brass mirror mounted on the wall; by all accounts his bearing was still solid, muscular (burly, strong) but he knew it was all a sham, for he inwardly felt that he lacked his old resilient, invincible vitality, he was no longer the warrior priest of certain prowess, that he had once been…Years had been particularly cruel to him, gradually wearing down his strength and stamina. Suddenly Kekos, now seated at the edge of his bed, felt extremely tired of his prolong, lonely existence. It was time for him to join his ghost (specter) friends. Resigned to his ill fate therefore, two hours after midnight (well before pre-dawn) he walked over to his desk, then after lighting a ceresin lamp, quietly and routinely set all his affairs in order. After his prayers at the shrine, he then one last time climbed in under the warm quilt, closed his eyes, and then lay perfectly still, awaiting his end.

As his mind a powerful tool willed his demise, naturally in the small hours of the night, only an hour after he’d gone to bed, fever took him and he suddenly fell gravely ill; but the following morning at sunrise, his mysterious ailment could not be accurately diagnosed, and his condition steadily worsened despite any treatment he received. Finally, by mid morning his organs having failed him altogether, seer/ warrior Kekos was spared further torment and tragically passed away.

Egil Viggoaries was getting ready for the private late-morning audience with the Sovereign Zakhertan when the news of the soothsayer's demise reached his ears. Evil leer on his lips, he derisively chuckled: “Already I am so feared that a mere look is enough to kill a man. What need have I, of any assassins?”

A special dispatch marked urgent was delivered to Egil Viggoaries just then; recognizing the seal on it, he dismissed the guard who delivered it and sat down at his desk. After breaking the seal, he withdrew the contents from it and read it. The letter was from Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple. Finally, his ardent nemesis’s whereabouts had been found! A vicious, broad grin registered on Egil Viggoaries’s lips. He elatedly jumped up, most anxious now, to see Zakhertan Yozdek and to secure (gain) permission for an extended leave. He would personally manage this important matter and, the sooner he departed Channing the better!

                                                                                        

                                                                                    ~

(END OF SECTION 3) 

11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 22

   

Lady Sejon had of course been utterly delighted to learn of Magnian’s elevation in status. She was about to self-congratulate herself for having also narrowly escaped the dangerous predicament that had befallen Enqui Rimeng and prince Herleif, when her maidservant Areana had just then quite perturbed, burst into the room to present her Ladyship with a most curious, sealed letter marked urgent, specifically addressed to Her Ladyship Sejon, which someone had left without being seen, on the gemstone inlaid, pink commode at the end of the foyer (hallway).

01- D- THE LETTER AND AREANA

With inexplicable fear gripping her heart, Lady Sejon hastily broke open the seal and began reading the contents of the letter. Her brows knit when she read the incriminating lines, enunciating her actual part in the conspiracy to discredit prince Herleif, the precise details of planting of the penknife in the scroll, as well, her complicity (involvement) in the more grievous murder plot of the Royal Tutor Worren Youkup, after he had threatened to confess everything to Sovereign. The specific timing of the letter's delivery, and the stark, graphic minutiae (finer points) in the letter sent her heart palpitating wildly. Halfway through reading it, Lady Sejon’s face had turned completely ashen as she was shocked to the core; her head began to swim, her mouth fell agape, and the threatening letter simply dropped to the floor.   

Areana instantly scooped up the letter and spontaneously handed it back to Her Ladyship's trembling hand; she then with a concerned, puzzled look, enquired, "Is everything all right, Milady?” for never had she seen Sejon losing her composure like this.    

 Sejon meanwhile, had collapsed into the nearest seat until; getting a grip on her senses (herself) once more; she summarily dismissed all the attendants, save for Areana, from the room. She questioned her repeatedly, to learn how she had come by the letter. Had she noticed anything unusual, anything at all? Poor girl was mortified (petrified). She really had not noted anything strange or seen anyone suspicious. She was reduced to tears being so heatedly and wrathfully drilled. The other attendants had one time or other had faced her Ladyship’s terrible, fiery temper and suffered her subsequent wrath; therefore, despite their innate concerns for the much-beloved Areana, they dared not poke their heads into the room, without being summoned first. Better to stay away, till her Ladyship’s temper had cooled.    

In the end Sejon, totally frustrated, had irately dismissed Areana.

02  HER LADYSHIP SEJON C

Alone in the room, Sejon forced herself to re-read the letter, this time to the (bitter) end; she was surprised how such a courteous writing could carry that amount of, veiled and copious, malevolent bullying (intimidation, pressure). As Sejon mulled over the cited secrets in the letter that were, previously known only to herself and Nijel, gradually suspicion reared its ugly head and anger supplanted it. When she reached the reference to Nijel Pinng being detained by their competent men and therefore, should not be searched for, this time Sejon shook her head in disbelief. “This can't be!” For only moments before she had sent Nijel into her adjoining private bedroom on an errand. There being no other passage from there except through this very anteroom, by rights, Nijel should still be in there.

She bolted to her feet and hastened to the bedroom to in fury, confront (question) her half-sister and demand an explanation. Upon entering the room her eyes swiftly, twice swept the whole perimeter for any sign of Nijel, before her worst fears were realized; clearly, her half-sister, her personal aid Nijel was absent from the room. The toiletries she had sent Nijel to put back in their proper place were chaotically strewn on the carpet and both her vanity and chair were overturned. Suddenly Sejon’s attention was drawn to the tall curtains which the gentle breeze had just then stirred, letting in the golden rays of the hot midday sun. The window had been closed when Sejon had left the room. Then like fleeting hope itself the streaming spurt of light was extinguished as the fabric fell back into place. Ignoring the throbbing pain (pressure) that had just then manifested at both of her temples and was quickly developing into a terrible headache, Sejon with iron will, pushed all those worrisome thoughts aside and called out to Nijel. She same time began searching for her in earnest: she swiftly pulled aside tall curtains that could conceal a person or persons, searched behind tall screens, looked under the bed, then proceeded to look inside, around, under and behind the tall closets and big chests. She searched behind the colossal bed’s headboard, under the heavy quilts. Still nothing, nothing, nothing! All the while she had told herself that this was nothing more than an elaborate hoax… one of Nijel's practical jokes. She was out to frighten her; sort of, settling of scores for her last prank. Sejon's mind could not, would not conceive the contradictory outcome; nor would she accept the fearful concept and dire repercussions, of her being extorted. But considering the precise Information, gradually, she inwardly queried whether it could have been acquired, through force or, (perhaps) a willing participant, half- sister Nijel.  

No, that was not it at all! Sejon (out of fear) vehemently rejected that notion; for lately, ever since she had confirmed the truth about Nijel’s parentage, she had been most attentive and generous to Nijel. Furthermore, she had (Sejon had) ceased cursing and berating her for her tardiness. Nijel had no cause therefore, to hate her; besides which, their shared kinship bond could not be so easily superseded (supplanted), whatever the reason or threat.

03- NIJEL PINNG (1)

It is a lie, Sejon again pursed her lips and adamantly (obstinately) shook her head to purge those unwelcome thoughts that’d once more intruded into her brain. No; she was hiding somewhere there, the wilful, know it all tart; she was concealed somewhere specifically clever… But where, where in blazes could she be cloaked? Sejon snorted, remembering the time Nijel had once jested about growing wings and flying away. Surely, she had not done that. Sejon grimaced wryly at the ridiculousness of that desperate and hopeful thought.    

After seven more fruitless moments of increasingly frantic searching however, Sejon stood sullenly before the open window with the curtains now fully drawn, gazing blankly at the precipitous drop, oblivious to the heat of the sun on her face smarting her pallid cheeks. She could no longer deny the stark reality of Nijel’s abduction, nor dismiss the now presumed act of disloyalty and therefore, her betrayal.   

Eventually the mounting pain in her temples forced Sejon to draw away from the window and return to lie languidly on her bed, fully dressed, not even caring to remove her constricting slippers. In defiance of her will however, her mind still reeled (spun) with accusations and flashbacks, allowing her no respite. She groaned and buried her anxious (stressed) face in the plush pillow; steady flow of her flustered (anxious) tears soaked the linen and oddly enough, the moisture offered her cool comfort. Then after a time, her eyelids dropped.   

                                                                             …   

   

A buffeting (banging) sound at outside abruptly woke her and with a start she sat up. Her bleary eyes looked around at first, not grasping where she was; then, when her sharpened focus again surveyed the room, she noted how the sun's rays had receded away from the curtains, quietly announcing the arrival of the late afternoon. She nervously bit the corner of her lower lip thinking that she must have blacked out for at least two hours. When her gaze presently focused on the overturned vanity and chair in the far corner, the telltale signs of trouble swiftly brought back to her mind the contents of the extortion letter and filled her heart anew with intense fear and trepidation.   

Nijel’s disappearance, combined with those precise written facts… had Nijel collaborated with them all along, or had the information been extracted out of her via torture, after her abduction? Was there really an abduction? Sejon’s eyebrows again knit. There was no real sign of struggle in the room, not really. Besides which, she could have quietly overturned those light pieces herself to give that impression and then quietly slipped away, while she (Sejon) was reading that cursed letter.     

Sejon abruptly just then recollected angrily how she had given Nijel certain liberties lately, allowing her to come and go as she pleased; hence, the fault was hers (Sejon’s) for this generous leeway. Wallowing in self-recrimination, Sejon cupped her burning cheeks in her hands: Oh, what a fool she had been to place her trust in her half-sister Nijel! She had only herself to blame for this trouble, it was her own cursed naiveté. When will she ever learn not to trust anyone, particularly her own kin, especially in this den of wolves! Consequently, anger swelled in her heart, and it grew and grew, rising to the point of an unadulterated, seething rage. Sejon by then had been absolutely convinced that she had been manipulated and methodically, heartlessly, betrayed by her half-sister who had the backing of at least, two of her ardent nemeses; and so, inwardly she cursed the day she had first laid eyes on Nijel!    

How dare she collude with them …! How dare they threaten her!    

Sejon’s gaze stayed five more seconds on the threatening words in the letter instructing her not to search for Nijel Pinng. Her fury already supplanted by a determined course of revenge on Nijel and her presumed co-conspirators, she clenched her fists and simply shook her head, knowing in this she must act to the contrary, as well, produce a believable justification for her maidservant's prolonged absence. The last thing she wanted was for idle gossip to reach the ears of Zakhertan; meanwhile, she would force Nijel into hiding in earnest and, if the fiend half- sister ever mustered the courage, the nerve to re-appear, then…!    

Her thoughts abruptly turning to Areana, one who had found the letter, Sejon nodded, having decided on the only recourse (option) she felt was left open to her. Then, after summarily disposing the letter in the fireplace of the adjoining antechamber, she shouted in an angry voice for her servants to come in, setting the plan in motion. That late afternoon and well into the small hours of the evening, she had scattered them about in search of Nijel; they tirelessly scoured every inch of her Royal residence, but expectantly, could not find any trace of Nijel Pinng anywhere. It was as though the ground had opened and swallowed her whole.  

                                                                                     ~

Following day, the intense search had resumed at crack of dawn, and by noon, it had discreetly been extended to encapsulate (capture) the outer perimeter of the South Palace. In all that time Sejon constrained to play the part of a benevolent being, had displayed as deep a concern for her missing servant as was expected of one in her position; but when there was still no sign of NIjel, Sejon then subtly voiced her fears with self-recriminations on her tongue that, Nijel must have, for personal reasons, run away or worse still, she might have ended her life in some deep well. Lady Sejon then shed few more crocodile tears (an insincere show of grief) and reluctantly called off the search. Looking downtrodden and depressed, she dismissed all her attendants and took refuge in the cool serenity of her bedchamber. She had drawn the bed curtains aside and was about to lie down for an hour’s respite, when she sighted yet another sealed note placed squarely upon her embroidered pillow. Seeing red, she snatched the casing (envelope) and tore it open; what she read set her heart palpitating in angst and from that moment on, she was permanently robbed of any notion (vestige, sense) of being safe.  

Later still, in utter disbelief she had read and re-read the lines: "Commanding performance my dear; but by your reckless action, you have also condemned her to death. Be warned, any more such foolish acts in future, shall be met with far graver repercussions to you.”

"My dear?... Who would dare address her so brazenly!  

04- ladyship SEJON PONDERING

It was little comfort to her, that the special footnote at the bottom of the letter had reassured her, if she cooperated fully, her indiscretions would remain a secret (undisclosed), perhaps indefinitely.

Meanwhile, the last line before that, the felicitous wishes that she continues to enjoy her newly elevated status, fell hollow against the acerbic baldness of the subsequent statement, "Nothing more is required of you at this time".    

She had vented her rage by ripping the letter to shreds and then feeding the compressed smithereens to the flames; after which she had stood in the center of the room looking at everything around her with searing contempt yet feeling suddenly most vulnerable and exposed at the same time. The sudden urge to destroy everything within her sight and to reduce it all to ashes, just like the letter had robbed her of her aspirations, afresh swelled up in her chest. But if she were to do that, how could she (plausibly) explain her erratic and destructive temper-tantrum to Zakhertan Yozdek when the news of it, invariably reached his ears. As it was, she already dreaded having to weather the unpleasant speculation from certain quarters, about the disappearance of Nijel. She dreaded also that the impending, future salvo (barrage) of questions that she might be hard pressed to answer, despite the regular frequency of these sorts of events, if Nijel’s corpse was ever to be suddenly manifest.    

“No,” Sejon looked out the window and shook her head, vehemently denying this probability. This was nothing more than an idle threat, for Nijel being kept alive and utilized as a leverage, would be far more beneficial to the mastermind, villainous abductor.     

Sejon nevertheless felt terribly stifled, her lungs desperately needing oxygen (fresh air) she moved to the adjacent antechamber and went out onto the balcony to stand there sullenly by the ornate iron balustrade. She absently gazed at the burning disk of the setting sun, as it lit up the sky with the colors reflecting her inner rage. For a long while Sejon stood perfectly still, her throat constricted, her mind beset with horrific images of the future's dreaded dour (bleak) prospects, her heart meanwhile gripped by the inexplicable (perplexing) fear and pounding wildly in her chest. In the short span, her self-assured world had been shaken to the core. She now inwardly squirmed like a trapped animal, in an albeit gilded cage, knowing that from then on, she would be existing in a state of incessant anxiety, her every action constrained and dictated, her ambitions seriously curtailed, being subjected to the whims of yet another tormentor, besides Sovereign Zakhertan.    

Providence compounding her apprehensions, an edict (from His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek), was announced just then, commanding Sejon to ready herself within the hour for that night’s impending royal visit (favor).    

 

                                                                                             ~

 

(END OF SECTION 22)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 20

01 A NEVETS ON HORSEBACK IN THE RAIN 

 After several days of laborious, continuous riding under the incessant rainfall, Nevetsecnuac, chiefly out of concern for his steed, once again sought some form of shelter to spend the night.  Fortunately, at that moment just before dusk, spotting the (orange tiles of) towers of an old, ruined temple jutting above the vast forest to their left, he steered the horse in that direction.

 After several hours of negotiating the difficult terrain and of snaking, ascending paths, they finally reached the long since abandoned structure.

Halting before the unlocked and partially destroyed, crooked, iron gates Nevetsecnuac dismounted and led the horse by the reins, through the opening, to inside. The dilapidated courtyard which greeted them hosted several pools, gifts of the relentless downpours, which dotted the area as if planned for a garden.  The entire yard, housing grotesque rocks, shattered pillars and broken tables and chairs carved out of stone, was completely overgrown with a thick, dark green layer of moss and climbers.  Brambles and thorn bushes choked the pathways.  Oddly enough, one clear, snaking path was beaten through the main thoroughfare, telling of a visit by some person or group in not-too-distant past.

After calling out and receiving no answer Nevetsecnuac cautiously pushed open a tattered, wooden portal which was filled with gaping holes.  It opened onto a large, dark hall where the air was so dense that it refused to enter the lungs.  Nevetsecnuac fetched the small candle from his pocket and lit it to illuminate his way. At the far end there was a ruined, ancient shrine.  The colored inscriptions had long since been gouged, burned, scraped and peeled off and charred, rounded shapes concealed the identities of whatever idols it had once hosted.  Several halls leading from the altar room had all deteriorated.  Broken bricks, stones and tiles littered the ground, some gathered in heaps.  Parts of the roofs of these empty chambers had collapsed, inviting the torrents of rain inside.  The wood floorboards had rotted, and parts had caved in, those still standing were carpeted in moss.  Grass grew in profusion in the kitchens, lecture halls, dining areas and in the scores of half-standing cubicles that, in their heyday, had hosted a great number of monks, novices and the droves of guests and devout followers.

 The few rooms with their roofs still intact were shrouded in a thick layer of cobwebs, dust and mildew.  This endless destruction of the walls, columns and stone altars and statues, undoubtedly inflicted by the hand of man, testified to a tragic, turbulent episode in history.

Nevetsecnuac's memory, triggered by the destruction around, quickly recalled Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon's narrative of the strife between the different religious orders attempting to gain supremacy after Zakhertan Yozdek’s usurpation of the throne and the subsequent strong resistance offered by some loyal monks to the new Emperor.

 What was the reason behind this carnage?  As if in answer, Nevetsecnuac’s eyes were at once drawn to a broken, badly marred tablet protruding from the rubble on the floor just a few feet away.  Nevetsecnuac picked it up, dusted it carefully and examined it.  Well versed in formal calligraphy, he attempted to make some sense of the deliberately obliterated remains of the script.  When he reached a line which ended "\\\NG \\TH V\R", he nodded his head in understanding as tears pricked his eyes.  Carrying the tablet bearing the honored name of his grandfather, Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir, along with a host of sad, leaden thoughts he pushed onwards into the major courtyard.

Most of the temple's once magnificent, adjoining (connecting) towers, were now crumbled ruins, walls tottering in the wind, totally unsafe to enter.  The main keep, bearing the evidence of a final battle, had decisively and mercilessly been razed right to the ground.

Amid the piles of stone and brick debris which filled these towers’ foundations, there lay shattered and cracked bronze bells, brass tripods, cauldrons and drums, broken blades, staffs (iron rods, bamboo poles), and spears, helmets, some still hosting their owner's skull, and a sea of bleached bones. 

Nevetsecnuac lingered at the sight, overcome with grief.  The tears coursing down his cheek were quickly washed away by the pounding rain as his unguided feet took him away from the major courtyard and into a dark, gloomy hall where an even more gruesome sight awaited him.

 There, at the center, a large heap of charred bones told of the tragic fate of the last survivors.  These loyal monks had fought and died with valor; yet in this length of time, no living being had dared, or cared to do the right thing by them.  Denied a proper burial, they had been barred from entering the nether regions and for decades their tortured souls had been imprisoned on earth, doomed to wander aimlessly. With this new visitor, Nevetsecnuac, however, their torment at long last would reach an end. 

Already having found a place of high, dry, shielded ground suitable for their final resting place, Nevetsecnuac took off his wet outer garments that weighed him down and put to good use the broken picks and shovels lying around the temple.  In the area he chose, protected from flood and erosion, he dug a deep, fair-sized grave and, selecting a stone tablet inscribed onto it a touching eulogy to commemorate the deed of these loyal monks.  Then, with utmost reverence, he collected all the charred remains and transported them through several trips, into the mass grave.  Covered over with clean earth and the headstone put into place, Nevetsecnuac paid them their last respects, intoning prayers, shedding tears and making proper sacrifices of food and wine (apportioning some provisions, as well, part of the plonk, vino, which Yagu had pressed on him at the time of his departure from the Inn) to their souls.

After this important task was completed, he first tended to the horse's needs then selected a dry room for himself in which he laid down his bedding and luggage.  As the pitch darkness blanketed the earth, flames of anguish still searing his heart, his depressed (state) mood driving away all appetite for food, he only downed several swigs (mouthfuls) of the coarse wine from the flask and feeling rather exhausted (spent, beat) he then reclined in slumber. Unfortunately, too many oppressive thoughts rushed at once to crowd his mind and deny him any respite.  Opening his eyes he distractedly watched the numerous fireflies that darted about the room, drawing luminous cursive shapes in mid-air; meanwhile, the sound of the rain drummed in his ears, till it gradually tapered off.  No sooner had the downpours stopped, however, mother nature set off a chorus of croaking frogs, droning mosquitoes and nocturnal chirping insects; all bustling with intense activity, they permanently disrupted any peace (silence) of the night.  Irritated, Nevetsecnuac turned his face to the wall and pulled the blanket over his head to dampen the ringing in his ears.

Suddenly, however, the din of noise, the croaking, had abruptly halted.  Nevetsecnuac sat bolt upright; he thought he'd heard a faint footstep trailing off into the distance.  Springing to his feet next, he darted outside to find no one there.  The frogs, about to start anew, hesitated, frightened by his presence.

Nevetsecnuac knew he would not sleep after all that, not till he resolved this mystery (satisfied with his curiosity) and, thinking that he’d perhaps overlooked some secret passageway during his previous inspection, he quickly lighted a candle and going outside, started anew his search, for be it a living prowler or a vengeful apparition (ghost), of the immediate grounds of the temple. 

On the far wall of one of the halls a small block of stone, previously hidden by a crumbled idol, had been brushed clean of dust. Drawing near, Nevetsecnuac gave it a brief scrutiny then applied pressure to the stone with his palm.  As he had suspected, the stone gave way and sank an inch deep into the wall and, with a faint groan, a secret underground passageway was revealed off to the side.  He traded the candle for a torch light and holding it up high, he descended the flight of dark, stone steps into a long, snaking underground tunnel.

Coming to a fork some way down, he examined the debris on the ground and determined the direction to take was to the left.  He advanced swiftly, but cautiously, he rounded corner after corner until he met up sharply with an obstructing wall.  Feeling around the partition, he stumbled quite by chance on the secret catch that parted the wall. 

After descending the precarious stone steps, further along the path, the tunnel had once, twice then again thrice divided into two segments; each time however, taking his cue from the disturbed debris and cobwebs, he veered either to the right or to the left, advancing cautiously through the dark, dingy tunnel network (labyrinths). 

Subsequently, two sets of footprints in the dust, one large, one small, piqued his curiosity.  As he proceeded, all manners of tunnel creatures, rats with coldly blazing eyes scurried off, frightened by the light, making a small commotion in the process.

Though he had covered a fair distance, he still had not encountered anything other than the resident pests (vermin, rats, mice a coiling snake etc.) within these catacombs. The long, narrow passageway at one point passed a set of stairs which led up to two opposite bolted doors. Singling out the door into which the small, wet footprints led, he traced them until they eventually disappeared behind a third door.  A faint light streamed out from underneath.  As he reached to lift the latch, he heard what it sounded like, a muffled child’s sobs.  Quietly, so as not to frighten the child, he pushed the door ajar and perused the inside before stepping through.  Except for the tall altar at the far end where the faint whimper emanated, the room was entirely empty.

 He advanced swiftly to investigate but, instead of the child novice he expected, there crouched a frail young woman with her head buried in her arms, sobbing pitifully. He was about to gently accost her when she became aware of his presence and, with a start, looked up at him.  Her tear-stained face, as lovely as a flower, drained completely of all its color.  Trembling, she fell on her knees and begged him to spare her.  He rushed to raise her to her feet.

"Please do not be frightened (alarmed).  I'm not going to hurt you.  I'm here to help." Nevetsecnuac reassured her then, bowing respectfully, introduced himself as Fradel Rurik Korvald.

In her crazed state she stared blankly at the scholar, not comprehending his words then again cupped her face in her hands and continued sobbing.  When the reality of the situation finally sank in, she turned and sized him up.  Yes, this is no robber, her face seemed to say.  He seems a decent sort, not an immoral being, I will be safe with him.

 Her racing heart was, furthermore, eased somewhat, when she looked into his kind, gentle eyes and listened to the placating, reassuring words that now began to make sense.  Sighing, she wiped her eyes and whimpered, "Please, sir, do help me.  You must get me out of here."  Receiving a sympathetic, affirmative response, she tried to fall onto her knees in gratitude but, made dizzy by her frail state, she faltered and collapsed instead into his strong, protective embrace.

She was revived and, with (Fradel’s) Nevetsecnuac's support, was led up to ground level where she was given both food and drink, her preference leaning towards the wine more so than the water.

Nevetsecnuac surmised that the woman he’d aided, a rather captivating beauty, was in her early twenties. Once her urgent needs for food and water had been fulfilled (satisfied), the normal color had then gradually returned to her pallid cheeks. Soon as she’d regained her strength, bowing, she thanked Fradel Rurik Korvald profusely and introduced herself as Yenis Luko.  Leaning her head back against the wall, her eyes half closed, she insisted on hence, telling Fradel of her past plight.

05 YENIS LUKO

Some three or four days prior, Yenis could not be exact, while her husband Senson Luko had been absent on business, four stout, armed bandits had, in the middle of the night when everyone was fast asleep, skillfully scaled the high walls surrounding her house, passed through the courtyard, gone through the second set of gates and penetrated the inner compounds into the privacy of the master's quarters, intent on robbing him in his absence.  The rogues, skilled in arms, had then made away with the valuables and her, as she had been unfortunate enough to have caught the eye of their chief.

Her servants and her husband’s two younger brothers, Latham, aged thirty two, and Hacket, aged twenty seven, responding to her screams for help, had been most ineffective at stopping the bandits.  Badly wounded and beaten, this ineffective lot had watched her being taken away bound and gagged.  The ensuing long, arduous ride had, by nightfall of the following day, delivered both her and her abductors to this forbidden, forsaken place.

"I dare not deceive you, sir.  Everything I say is the truth."  Yenis heaved a deep, sorrowful sigh as she wiped a tear from her eye.  Even in her despair, with her eyebrows knitted in a frown, Yenis looked enchanting, bewitching, a beauty.

 "The truth is, even if my husband had been there, he would have been, along with the rest of his family, powerless to stop these wretches."

 She sighed and continued in a murmur, "Though shrewd and cruel, he's old and cowardly, the same as them."

 Looking up at Fradel shyly, apologetically yet grateful too, she added in a stronger voice, "Though I've only known you, sir, for a short while, I feel I can unburden my very soul to you.  Yes, you have a most trusting disposition and have entirely won my confidence.  Truly, I feel I can trust you with my very life."

After a brief pause Yenis then told Fradel how her abductors had drunk heavily, joked and cursed roundly for the rest of the night, poking fun at her.  Finally, the bandit chief, seeing the night almost spent and still lusting after her, had hauled her over his shoulder and carried her to a private room where he meant to molest her.  After bolting the door from the inside, he had released her from her bonds and, smiling peevishly, had tried to woo her with sweet words and promises of marriage once they had reached his lair.  When this got him nowhere the brute tried to force his lustful intentions on her. Savagely smiling, he'd shamelessly groped after her and, hurled his enormous body onto the bed. At this point she gave a shudder and, hanging her head, remained lost in thought for a moment.  "I prepared to fight him with all my might." she said, looking up once again. 

"By good fortune my virtue is still intact." she smiled wryly.

 "No, perhaps it was not fortune; perhaps it was that Heaven took pity on me; for the rogue was so inebriated (intoxicated) that, when he made the attempt, coming at me like the charging mad bull, he stumbled and his head hitting hard the pole of the bed, simply passed out.  Seizing this chance to escape this fate worse than death I rushed to the door, unbolted it and burst outside like a madwoman.”

 “I don't know how many times I fell (stumbled) during my escape; still, each time I cupped my mouth to stifle the cries of pain.  I do not know in which direction I fled, I just ran and ran, beside myself with fear, trying to get as far away from them as I could.  Then at one point, as I leaned against a wall to catch my breath, through sheer luck I discovered the secret passage.  Though mortally afraid of darkness and its ghosts, I nevertheless descended the pitch-dark stairs and hid there at their base for quite some time until I'd gathered the added courage to feel my way down the tunnel."  Yenis cringed.

The following morning, unable to find her in the ruins and afraid of lingering too long and getting caught by their pursuers, the bandits had left.  For two or three days, in a state of shock, frightened by every shadow, every sound, she had waited for the authorities to come and rescue her.  Just when she had resigned herself to death by starvation her savior, Fradel Rurik Korvald, had come onto the scene.  Of course, she had been aware of his presence the moment he'd entered the temple, but she had not summoned the nerve to approach him.  Looking nothing at all like a constable, she feared he was another bandit or an unscrupulous man at the least, else why would he be at this temple.  She stayed out of sight, praying that he, too, would go away.

Desperation and hunger had finally driven her out in the middle of the night, candle in hand, hoping to steal some of his food.  Not knowing how to ride, she had not gone for the horse.  Halfway into her errand she had lost her nerve and, turning on her heels, ran away without confronting Fradel.

"Oh, those days before your arrival, sir, I had suffered so terribly."  She cringed, adding in a tragic tone, "I was practically driven into madness.  I was a lost soul, severed most cruelly from my loved ones, from my protective home by that knave.  My brothers-in-law, Latham and Hacket, pshaw!  For all their boasting and martial arts training, they sure proved useless, weaklings and cowards when it came to facing real adversity.”

“Had I, had someone like you, sir, to protect me none of this would have happened, though it is some consolation that my virtue is still intact.  Still, I will live forever more, in fear that it could happen all over again.  My peace of mind has also been stolen.  Can I ever feel safe again?" She bemoaned cupping her face.

Despite Fradel's (Nevetsecnuac’s) council against it, Yenis downed several more cups of wine, claiming the need to forget her tribulations.  Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), conforming to the rules of etiquette, also consumed the same measure at her insistence.  Slightly inebriated, her mood turned coquettish.

"Oh, why must you sit so far away, my voice is going hoarse from shouting?"  Yenis rose to her feet and wove her way across the room towards him.

 "It seems that we were fated to meet Master Fradel."  A tint of red spread across her girlish cheeks as Yenis sat herself close by, “Just as I was fated to be saved by you from this terrible ordeal." Again, Yenis thanked him most profusely.

 In truth she was quite beautiful and almost matchless in grace and allure.  But Yenis’s charms had failed to win him over, for it paled in comparison to Nevetsecnuac’s true beloved Teuquob, who, as far as he was concerned, far surpassed any and all other women in feminine (attributes,) beauty and charm.

"Yes, I'm most fortunate to have come across a gentleman scholar as upstanding as yourself." she smiled bewitchingly.

"Few men could measure up to your moral integrity, Master Fradel.  You must definitely be an immortal, or an angel."  She chuckled as she nodded her head.

"Though I'm here, entirely at your mercy, you have not tried, not one bit, to take advantage of me.  I mean, what can I do if you decide to take certain liberties with me?" Her face flushed (crimson).

"I'm not as strong willed as I was but three days ago, and with all this drink in me..."

Yenis stifled her giggle.  There was more than a touch of provocation in her voice as she glanced at Nevetsecnuac from under her fluttering long-lashes, dropping a few more improper hints.

Yenis spoke alluringly and looked utterly bewitching, as she glanced at Fradel (Nevetsecnuac).  Another in his place, not possessing his integrity and moral rectitude, would have long ago (surrendered to man’s basic urges and) succumbed to her charms.

 As it was, Fradel's (Nevetsecnuac’s) head was lowered and, his thoughts having long since drifted back to his beloved wife, he heaved a deep sigh of longing (pining) for Teuquob.

 In his slightly inebriated state, he envisioned her guileless smile, and his heart ached, yearning to embrace her just once more.

Encouraged by his silence, Yenis continued to pretend, hardly noticing the strange changes (transpiring within her) in herself.  Perhaps it was her recent brush with death, perhaps it was the deprivation of the last few days, or perhaps it was a feeling borne out of gratitude, or was it the wine?  Whatever the cause, she gazed at this rather striking figure of Fradel, feeling at first strongly drawn to him then, suddenly, she was consumed with unrestricted desire.

How handsome his features are, how physically fit he is!  She looked at him, starry eyed.

Indeed, Fradel cut a striking figure of a man; his chivalry, his handsome looks, enhanced, despite his ordinary (riding) garments. He appeared to her most irresistible, liken to a demigod, and, unwittingly, ignited the long-forgotten flames of passion within her.  It now took all her willpower to resist the temptation to brazenly throw herself into his warm embrace.

He’s such an exceptional being, to have so readily, so solemnly agreed to do all he could for me; promising to restore me to the safety of my home and to the bosom of my loved ones; all that with no hint of any repayment.   I've never met (come across) anyone as selfless and as decent as this scholar, Fradel.  Is he for real?  Could this, after all, be only some delirium? 

No, she pinched herself (wanting confirmation); no, I'm not dreaming.  He's real, all too real!  Suddenly her expression clouded over, and a frown settled on her features. 

Then, what's wrong?  I know my beauty is irresistible to men, why hasn’t he tried to woo me to win my affection or, basically, seduce me? 

Her thoughts straying (drifting), she once more luxuriated in fanciful imaginings:

 Oh; we would make such a handsome couple, too.  I would be so happy with him.

 She affixed her questioning gaze on Fradel's lowered face. If only he…. But then, suddenly, a frown appeared on her face. Oh, I’m so terribly, terribly unlucky. Why couldn't it be him, instead of that wrinkled old brute they forced me to marry? 

 I know he has not taken offense, for he has not reproached me or taken his leave which can only mean one thing…. Hmm?...

Yes, of course, she just then smiled knowingly. He's bashful… That must be it.  Sure, he needs a little more encouragement, that's all. 

Her (intrinsic psyche) conscience, suddenly in conflict with her aspiration, reproached her: What’s come over me?  Why am I thinking this way? 

Moments later, the hot flames of passion anew (once more) seared her heart and, with her good sense and judgment clouded, she threw all shame and caution to the wind.  Fluttering her eyes bewitchingly, her face wreathed in smiles, she begged Fradel not to begrudge her more wine, vehemently disclaiming her intoxication.

Against his better judgment, Fradel complied, adding with mock severity that this must be the absolute last, that, after downing this, they must retire.

Her heartbeat wildly as she reached out her cup with both hands to receive the wine.  The meaning of Fradel's admonition had been changed substantially by her own imaginings.  Purposefully, she caressed his outstretched hand.

Fradel, his pure heart denying the obvious, refused to think unkindly (badly) of her.  Quickly swallowing the contents of his cup, he invited her to use his bedding for the night, observed her quick acceptance as she swiftly reclined under the blanket and assumed she must be truly fatigued after her ordeal and having consumed so much wine.  Biding her hasty goodnight, he quickly headed for the door.

Her rippling glances lingered on him, "Must you go?"

Feigning fright, she whimpered, "I don't feel safe here, all alone.  What if...?"

"You'll be safe." Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reassured her.  "I'll only be in the next room.  There’s really nothing to fear.  Now please try to get some rest, we have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."

But she knitted her brows, pursing her lips, and slightly trembled as if teetering on the verge of tears and again pleaded meekly with him not to leave.  She declared that she looked to him only with the purest heart, as her Elder Brother, her savior, and what harm could there be in spending the night in the same room with her if he slept apart from her, fully clothed.

Fradel frowned, "It still would not be proper."  He shook his head and calmly urged her to get some rest then he, with deliberate determination, left the room.

                                                                                     ~

 

(END OF SECTION 20)