11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 16

 Fortunately for Surgeon Mosek, Egil Viggoaries had once more turned his thoughts back to the barbarian giant and the marvelous combat: In an uncontested, swift maneuver Viggoaries had not only freed himself from this Barbarian giant's clutches but had also struck down his opponent instantaneously as soon as the other’s subsequent, murderous assault had been launched. Admittedly the giant had been quite skilled and dexterous for one his size. Amazingly, he had been quite adroit in his defenses and counter strikes, fending against the lightening speed deadly blows aimed at his head, legs, and chest even as he fumbled for his weapon, which had, at one point, taken flight and wedged between ice covered rocks, at the distance of a hundred feet away. Egil grimaced, thinking of his ensued, signature kick to the man's spine, launched after a mid-air somersault, which had dropped the giant at Viggoaries’s feet, his legs still kicking impotently.

Egil could have decapitated him that instant, but instead, he had taken his time, delighting in the giant's paralysis, and his impotent (powerless), anguished pain (though still defiant with his daggers ‘glare); choosing instead to finish him off,  in that grindingly slow, tormented way before he applied just a bit of pressure, just so. 

01- EGIL VIGGORIES

Subsequently, Egil Viggoaries leaned back, his mind oblivious to the pain in his arm which was now spreading to his chest and neck; looking away to a distant void with his mind already devising (conceiving) apt steps to destroy his intended target, the corners of his mouth just then lifted slightly as his lips sported a (pitiless) malicious, cynical smile.

At that moment a sharp knock at the door abruptly interrupted his pleasure (hideous reverie) and thus he scowled. His deputy, Caunze, was eventually granted admission and, after a deep bow, came to stand before Viggoaries and to inform him of agent Rukon's urgent request for an audience.

 "Let him in.", Viggoaries gestured, condescendingly.

 

                                                                                     ~

Once admitted, the newly recruited agent stopped in the center of the room, reverently bowed low then stood at attention for permission to speak. Just inside the door, the Deputy Caunze waited at ease, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Well, what is it?"  Viggoaries's obvious impatience made Rukon flinch reflexively.

In fact, it was the sudden searing, bolt of pain radiating from his arm that had put the Dark Eunuch in a foul mood; this however he would never admit to himself, for he despised weakness and all forms of human frailty.

Egil Viggoaries had constantly (in his adult life) striven to be indifferent to physical and mental pain, and likewise demeaning human deficiencies (limitations), ever since that humiliating lesson he had learned at the hand of Zakhertan Yozdek when he was but eight years old. That mortifying experience had permanently marred and altered his character. Additionally, there were those four incidences, before puberty, that Egil had buried in the deep recesses of his conscious mind where they could never be surfaced (recalled) for to do so would instantly rob the Dark Eunuch of the last shred of his dignity and any remaining self-respect.

Egil Viggoaries grimaced, being abruptly reminded of the other, the supposed him, languishing since infancy in fact, like a subhuman criminal, in the darkest recesses of the dungeons. Zakhertan Yozdek had gifted him to Egil as an outlet, when he had turned into his teens, to torment as much as he had liked, with only one condition, that the prisoner lived. If you could call it that; the wretch lived, lived to endure yet another day’s torment.

The agent Rukon, meanwhile, had opened his mouth, steeling himself before he spoke. Still, he hesitated, his eyes darting to Surgeon Mosek who, with rapt attention was bent on sewing up the remainder of the wound after the tendon was re-attached and the veins cauterized. Would it be prudent to expose these findings in front of this physician? Granted Mosek's reliability was beyond question. Still, this could be a test.

There was a peal of eerie, mocking laughter as Egil Viggoaries subsequently shot Mosek a cold, stern look that effectively dismissed the physician. The closing of the wound would have to wait, irrespective of future complications. Egil Viggoaries’s eyes tracked Mosek as latter promptly and without least protest exited the room; afterwards, Egil’s stone (unreadable) gaze fell on Caunze for a moment or two, before reverting onto Rukon.

02-AGENT RUKON

The agent’s face paled, so cold was the Dark Eunuch’s scrutiny that it sent shivers down his spine; thus, Rukon bit out the words without so much as a pause, injudiciously reporting all, even the inconsequential stuff (matter) of his findings:  This well included the redundant details of Nigel's visit to the kitchens (under the pretext of ordering a specially prepared repast for Lady Sejon) and, after identifying that night’s allotted dishes for Royal Tutor Worren Youkup, she had then discretely emptied the entire contents of the pilfered (pinched, stolen) flask into one particularly sweet saucer.

"Have you retrieved the flask she discarded?" Egil Viggoaries now brusquely cut short (terminated) Rukon’s ramblings.

"Yes sir; it took some doing but I’ve…” Noting the fierce disapproval in Egil Viggoaries’s eyes, Ruken abruptly fell silent, and his flesh started to crawl.

“What breech of conduct can I be guilty of now?”  He knew better than to ponder that question too long and, he at once removed the flask, which by then had lost the label, from his tunic and rushed forward to hand it to Egil Viggoaries, mumbling also copious apologies as he backed away.

Egil Viggoaries removed the tightened lid and wafted the air above the opening toward his face. He made no effort to conceal his venomous grimace or the certain sober calculation in his eyes. Her previous indiscretions, the conspiracy to murder and its associated misconducts were not sufficiently grave to suit his purpose; but now, he would add premeditated murder to the list of her crimes, and then, when the time was ripe, he would reap the bountiful harvest.

 "That will be all." the words spoken to Rukon were sharp and abrasive, but Viggoaries’s icy eyes went past the agent to rest on Caunze.

The Deputy nodded, his face placid, almost inscrutable in its masklike quality; no one could have anticipated the smoldering rage deep inside the man as he bowed stoically and exited the chamber promptly, with Rukon at his heels.

Surgeon Mosek had all this time stood patiently at the outside corridor (hallway), awaiting word (a command from the Dark Eunuch) to rush back in and to finish his laborious task. He gazed after the retreating pair with blank stare. Halfway down the hall, at a safe distance, Caunze abruptly halted and pivoted.

Thrusting his hostile face right up against Rukon's, his fiery eyes burrowing into Rukon’s, he then sneered incredulously, "Just what did you think you were doing back in there? And wipe away that stupefied look from your face!"  Caunze grabbed Rukon’s shoulder roughly and yanked him aside then shoved him further in the quiet niche to escape the curious eyes and ears of the guards.

Leering menacingly, Caunze again pitted his face right up against the other and curtly enumerated every instance of inappropriate and plainly erroneous conduct, all the violations that Rukon had been guilty of, back in the room. As Rukon listened, his heart (palpitated) hammered violently against his breastbone (in his chest) for he had just then realized how close he had come to forfeiting his very life through his carelessness and deficient compliance of the stringent protocol.

03- DEPUTY CAUNZE (2)

Constraining the sheer disgust he felt from his voice, Caunze next pointed out sternly how just this once Rukon had been given this rare leeway, that for which he should be thankful. “And be sure to have your future reports more defined and concise.” Caunze tersely added before with a snort of derision he turned and walked away, not caring if Rukon followed.

He subsequently tossed a swift parting shot over his shoulder as his voice trailed into the distance, "His Excellency is not always this charitable.”   

Ceding this one point, Rukon stared after the Deputy with resentment smoldering in his heart. “To think after all I've gone through, having striven so hard to retrieve that cursed flask from a whirling cesspool, for him!”  Rukon bit his lip to hold back his anger and obvious disappointment then quickened his pace to return to his posting.

Subsequent days, Rukon’s routine tasks, his administrative duties, had increasingly became more arduous, his life much more a living hell. Rukon did eventually learn, quite by accident, that the greatest part of the blame for his failings on that day, had rested squarely on the shoulders of his immediate supervisor Caunze; hence, the consequent hostility and the ensued hardships.

                                                                            ~

    

No sooner Caunze and Rukon had disappeared down the hall, surgeon Mosek had been summoned back in to finish the job. Mosek with assiduous speed set to at once tending, cauterizing stitching, and then bandaging the rest of the terrible (extensive) wound on the arm.

All this while, the Dark Eunuch's mind was focused on an intriguing matter, more specifically, the detailed report on an insignificant Steward Chutek in Worren Youkup’s employ. Knowing Worren’s unnatural infatuation (obsession) with Chutek, Egil Viggoaries had the steward shadowed, for a long while, by his agents. Of course, when Egil had first learned of Imperial Tutor's clever manoeuvrings, long before his formal charge, (condemnation)- including the naming of the steward Chutek as the lawful, sole beneficiary of his estate and, anticipating unforeseen adversity his timely implemented certain measures to circumvent it- Egil Viggoaries had been both irate and amused. 

Subsequently, once the Imperial Tutor fell under suspicion, the actuated (triggered) land title search revealed the true measure of Worren’s vast holdings and secreted investments that had been amassed in his long lifetime. Since Worren Youkup had lived so frugally, it had taken everyone by surprise that the old Tutor had been underhandedly so brilliant with his investments, that it had led to the accretion of such magnitude of wealth.

 

04- STEWART CHUTEK TRAVELLING- JP

Recent developments, which entailed the hasty departure of the Steward Chutek from the Capital (Channing) on a facade urgent errand, meanwhile, had mildly elated Egil; nevertheless, he had not yet issued any order to have Chutek apprehended.

In the wake of other troubling reports, the Dark Eunuch's cold heart now contemplated on the added (relevance and) benefits of this, foible of Worren’s, to the case.

Dark Eunuch grimaced, cogitating, as this had then enabled Egil to in the future, formally charge Chutek and those he suspected of being in league with, for the Tutor’s well anticipated, untimely demise or, more specifically, murder.

Currently as things stood, even if Worren Youkup were to be posthumously exonerated, with no living relative to lay claim to his now exposed vast estate (numerous prime properties and funds), it would all still be automatically absorbed by the central Government (the state); then, with only a bit of subtle engineering, the major portion of it could easily, permanently be made to disappear into Egil Viggoaries’s own coffers.

 

                                                                               ~ 

 

(END OF SECTION 16)

 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 34

It had been quite a row, a real humdinger of a fight, all right!  He couldn't have been much more than nine or ten, but Tizan was well enough developed for his age to, at long last, hold his own against that brute.  “He had rebelled soon enough, though, hadn't he?”

From the age of seven he had relentlessly fought back each time his stepfather had taken to drink and viciously turned on him. Had his father not died or that his mother did not re-marry, he had always wondered, perhaps things might have been different. 

Tzan had suffered greatly; as far back as he could remember, all through his childhood in fact, with many beatings, constant verbal abuse and endless torment at the hands of his stepfather Zianko. (First mentioned in Book 1 - Fisherman’s Prize- Section 3)

 

01-  ZIANKO

No man could be more vicious to a child.   The vile brute Zianko was a heartless, greedy, selfish dog! Then came the day on which Tzan’d been an eyewitness to Zianko’s murdering his mother. Perhaps the only time she’d stood up to him, fighting desperately to uphold her son’s right to inherit her former husband’s estate. But no one took any notice of Tizan’s claims or accusations, for Zianko had already arranged to make it look like a perfect, irrefutable accident. Shortly after, Tizan had suddenly fallen deadly ill, and very nearly died, but he had recovered, in time to learn, that his stepfather Zianko had been cleared of all charges. Meanwhile secretly from then on, the brute had conspired to murder him (Tizan) before he reached the age of twelve.

On that night, two months before he was to turn twelve, their brawling had reached a peak when that beast Zianko, unable to gain advantage with his hands alone, had taken up an oar and struck a hard, brutal blow at Tizan’s temple, knocking him out cold.  When Tizan regained consciousness in small hours of the night, he'd at once secretly taken off, preferring the unknown dangers of the mountainous forest to certain, slow death at his stepfather Zianko’s hands. Just before he left, he, looking back on the fishing village, had inwardly vowed to someday kill Zianko if he ever came across him again.

 

                                                                                  ~

 

Tizan now looked back out at the spot where the boat had been short time before, his eye catching the first of the mangled wreckage bob up to the surface.  For a moment he imagined that it was his stepfather’s boat and each of the bodies it took to the bottom with it was Zianko, killed repeatedly.  The image gave him little satisfaction, but it was the best he could muster at present. Even after many years of intense loathing, same seething, all-consuming abhorrence of Zianko still coursed through his veins.

“Odd that I'd remember Zianko now,” Tizan turned his attention back to the pitched battle still raging between captain Zunrogo Tugo and Lance Diostin.

“Devils take me!  How could I have frittered away (waste) all that time, with just reminiscing… where’s my good sense?”  His guts were gnawed by self-reproach. 

 

02--TZAN JP

In truth, the squandered time had only been no more than a heartbeat.

Snatching a sword from the nearest corpse and carving a deliberate course, Tizan rushed into the fray, wanting to fight alongside Zunrogo; but the dizzying and intense speed (never once dwindling), skill and agility with which Zunrogo and Lance Diostin fought, interlocked as they were in that kind of a continuous, sound combat, did not afford Tizan least opportunity (opening) to intercede.

Unrelenting, Tizan kept mental notes on Lance Diostin’s unique fighting style and any potential weakness in his offensives as he combatted other foes; all the while, he sought an opportunity to intervene with a well-placed strike at Lance Diostin.

He gradually lost heart when he observed how flawlessly Lance executed his offensives without giving up an inch of his defensive position.  Lance had no failings of any kind.  Though captain Zunrogo was the most competent fighter Tizan had known, Zunrogo was dwarfed in martial skills by his invincible opponent and even was forced into maintaining only a defensive course for much of the time.

Tizan, meanwhile, had soon run out of opponents to fight, and he stood looking about, surrounded by heaps of corpses, for least sign of life for which to extinguish. Disappointed he turned his attention back to the only ongoing action (contesting duo).

“Strange,” Tizan mused, observing how there’d been few instances during which a flaw in Zunrogo's defenses had left an opening, a perfect opportunity for a strike, yet his opponent Lance Diostin had ignored these obvious advantages.

“Oh, he’s so shrewd; adroit that he is, is he just toying with the captain?”

 Tizan inwardly questioned Lance Diostin’s motive, while at the same time with a sinking feeling, grew (became) skeptical of Zunrogo’s ability for the first time ever.  “He’s not invincible after all, is this the mentor I've sworn an unconditional allegiance to?”

Before he could follow up on his doleful, glum (gloomy, woeful) thoughts, the rarest opportunity just then had presented itself.  Lance had for a split second let his guard down, allowing slight vulnerability in his rear.  Fearlessly, Tizan jumped into the fray, recklessly not giving his brain (his senses) apt time to grasp (comprehend, gather) that Lance Diostin might have deliberately and with specific design, slackened off just enough to afford him (Tizan) this rare chance.

"The more the merrier!" warding off both sets of blows, Lance Diostin threw his head back and laughed; he then set to with equal equanimity and deadly precision, simultaneously attacking both Zunrogo and Tizan. 

"For a moment there, I thought that you would turn tail and run, Lieutenant.  Now, at least, I have a more even match.  I wouldn't want to be accused of taking unfair advantage of Captain Zunrogo here.  Oh, let me thank you, sir, for your invaluable service in ridding me of that excess baggage back there…. ha, ha!"

Lance talked and fought with equal ease; meanwhile, Lance Diostin’s fluid, swift maneuvers strained both his opponents’ defensives, their ability to the brink and, at the same time, restricted their corresponding strikes. By all accounts, Lance Diostin wasn't even trying all that hard.

 

03-LANCE DIOSTIN JP 12

Bristling at his arrogance, both Zunrogo and Tizan intensified their efforts and succeeded in, for an instant, turning the battle to the offensive.  Yet, despite their perfectly orchestrated, deadly onslaught, they still could not weaken or best Lance Diostin.

Lance Diostin’s amusement faltered after a while and he picked up momentum, wielding his sword with lightning speed and deadly effect.  He redoubled his offensive strikes with unyielding power, strength and unsurpassed cunning and agility, striking at places where there seemed to be no opening, piercing defenses that appeared flawless.  This intense, pitched fighting continued for a short spell though for Zunrogo and Tizan it seemed to be an eternity.

The two, finding themselves in dire straits, fought on with all their might but were unable to keep their adversary at bay.  They were hanging on only by the skin of their teeth.  Then, while fending off a deadly thrust by Zunrogo, Lance Diostin swiftly twirled and landed a good, swift kick squarely on Tizan's chest.  It was fortunate that Tizan had not discarded his armor, otherwise his ribs, which took the brunt of this attack, would have been instantly pulverized.  Still, the force of the blow was enough to hurl him right across the deck and into the mast, where he slumped down, unconscious.  Tizan was still not out of danger, for Lance had raced to follow his flying body and was at the point of decapitating his helpless form in the next heartbeat.

Zunrogo, putting on an all-out effort, had leapt over to the mast and, in the nick of time, intervened with deadly force to block Lance Diostin’s strike.

 Taking a stance between Lance and the Lieutenant Tzan, Zunrogo hurled curses, dares and taunting assaults while strategically retreating, (to lure) to draw Lance Diostin away from Tizan towards an un-sprung trap further down the deck.  This, Zunrogo perceived, would be his best hope of besting his nemesis.

However, it proved ineffectual.  Lance Diostin was too insightful, too clever to be caught unawares by the deadly snare.  In fact, with an agile maneuver, Lance forced Zunrogo to spring the trap.  Zunrogo escaped, only with a hairsbreadth, as the hurtling blade flew past the side of his neck to land in the river.  Zunrogo had trained himself to never ever consider defeat during a battle and so, he continued to fight in a desperate all-out struggle.

Lance Diostin clearly could have annihilated the captain at any time but, again, he slackened off on his assaults, clearly deriving a particular pleasure from toying with his eventual victim.  "Well, my friend", Lance hissed, "I must thank you for affording me this wonderful practice session.  It is only rarely that I get to use my full skills these days.  You see, once I reach my full potential (ability), my opponents invariably end up dead and, of course, it would be unwise of me to leave any witnesses to circulate reports of my true skill.  Good sparring partners are hard to find, you know.  So, you, sir, may go to your death knowing that your worthless life has, indeed, served some small purpose.”

Zunrogo realized too late how he had been led to mortally (fatally) underestimating Lance Diostin's true prowess.  Had he but known, he could have deployed more powerful reinforcements, adopted more effective means, engaged in diversionary tactics, or considered retreat, to just live to fight another day.

 

04- ZUNROGO AND lANCE DIOSTIN CLOSE COMBAT

As it stood, he was failing miserably.  He knew he had only himself to blame for this grave oversight.  He had been well versed in military strategy and should have perceived the possibility of this deception by Lance Diostin and taken measures to guard against it.  Lance Diostin’s adaptation of the age-old ruse had been flawless and Zunrogo, like the many others who preceded him, had been properly duped, lulled into a false sense of security right up to the very end before being totally, and irrevocably vanquished.

There was no time for self-reproach or remorse.  Just as Zunrogo was about to modify his strategy to one of escape at any cost, Lance launched a whirlwind assault that instantly incapacitated him.  He could feel the world going black as he fought to strike back.

Grinning cruelly, Lance Diostin lifted his magnificent sword high above his head, setting up the one powerful, lightning stroke that would slice through Zunrogo's neck like a harpoon through a jellyfish.  He let go of the stroke, the sword arched through the air in firm descending course, backing it up with all his force.

The blade’s course midway was stopped cold however, never reaching Zunrogo's neck as if it had hit a solid rock; furthermore, the shock wave traveled back up the sword and through Lance Diostin’s whole body.

"What the hell?" glowering, Lance Diostin jumped back and turned to assess the opponent still brandishing the sword that had blocked his fierce, deadly aim (blow).

                                                                                           ~

 

 (END OF SECTION 34)