11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 2

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 2

   

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

01- SURGEON LUBIN

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

02- EGIL VIGGORIES 11- JP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  

03- IRATE BLACK MOLOCK  AFFILIATES

 

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                                        ~   

   

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

“Why should I? No,”    

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

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

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

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

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

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

04- YUCHEMOS MANTUS

  

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

                                                                                           ~   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                             ~   

(END OF SECTION 2)    

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 22

01- MOUNTED ZUNROGO TUGO  LEAVING THE INN BEHIND

After leaving the Inn area, at first the road (thoroughfare) they journeyed on, thronged with countless travelers from all diverse ethnic and economic backgrounds, coming and going, bearing their goods and materials to and from the outlying provinces of the Empire.  The friendly banter of the merchants mingled with the creak of wheels and clapping of the horse's hooves as they pulled the buggies, carriages and loaded carts towards the Capital.

After quarter of a day’s ride, the ongoing stream gradually thinned out as the main road branched out onto many side roads, leading in all directions to the outlying market towns and farming villages (rural communities) that flanked the thoroughfare as it cut through the vast, fertile plain that provided this section of the province with much of its fresh forage (fodder, foodstuff).

Later, these arteries would again converge, Zunrogo informed Fradel, to swell the main highway which the company was on, as the produce of the region was transported to the insatiable consumers in Channing.

“The travelers would then be intermixed, with idle, vacationing degenerate gentry on pleasure excursions, covert, religious zealots seeking absolution, profligate (wasteful) scholars supposedly there for indulging in nature’s beauty and, countless dissolute court officials with varied political rank, all of them, in desperate need of respite and regeneration… all, with their hidden perverse agendas looking to escape their tedium and discharge their exacerbated angst!” Zunrogo stole Fradel a sly glance and grimaced sourly.

02- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC) AS IMPERIAL GUARD  JP 11

“What, no reaction… What does it take to ruffle those pristine feathers of yours?”

“As I was saying,” Zunrogo dispassionately continued. “These renowned, panoramic topography (scenery), as well, magnificent falls, hot springs, naturally fostered countless, leisure, recreational facilities. They had mushroomed, (built up) within just last decade, to perpetuate more currency, funds needed for military expeditions and more. Strangely enough, from these supposed places of refuge…all the while, the secretly sanctioned criminal elements…”

"Look, Captain!  Look!" The urgency in Frastos' voice and his pointing finger suddenly just then drew their attention to the far distant spot, where the Inn had been.  All heads turned to see the coiling, black smoke billowing up and darkening the sky.  Briac's face fell as a cold shudder passed through him.

"I wonder how it got started."  The adolescent boy's naive query drew the other traveler’s attention.

"Keep on walking; it’s none of our business!" The stern voice of an elderly man scolded the youth as he passed a fearful eye over the surrounding sea of curious faces.

Some had put their heads together to whisper then, eyes glued to the fire, shook their heads in apprehension and dismay.  Others showed fleeting signs of outrage or anger before a habitual resignation registered on their features.

 In all the spectators’ pupils (eyes) registered the akin caution, as the common sense of the old man's words rang true.  None of them could afford to get involved in the messy investigation, the ugly conspiracy or the legal entanglements that would certainly ensue.

Subsequently ditching their curiosity, with lowered heads, the majority hastened (picked up) their pace, whipping up their horses and steering their carts ahead, as most were anxious to spread as much distance as possible between themselves and the disaster.

The unfortunate few grave-faced travelers, who were headed towards the fire, purposefully dawdled, dug in their heels, and malingered to reduce their speed.

03- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC ) GAZES FURIOUSLY AT THE CAPTAIN JP 38

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) threw a furious look at Captain Zunrogo, with clear implication (as if to say), “I know you are behind this catastrophe.”

 Zunrogo plainly ignored this, however, and finding the varied responses of the travelers rather, most amusing, grinned sadistically and cruelly. Moreover, not wishing for another unnecessary confrontation with this upstart, righteous and irate scholar, deliberately ignored Fradel's continued, cold, admonishing glare, and just spurred his horse on ahead.

They traveled at this faster pace until dusk. Briac was somewhat comforted to be riding amid a protective semicircle; flanked by Frastos and Fradel Rurik Korvald on either side, while the captain rode in the lead.  He knew that, if he was hemmed in on all three sides and there were other travelers sharing the road, there would be a serious deterrent to any would be assassination attempt.  He coolly reminded himself that he would be a far easier target at any of the Inns they might be staying at, or if he strayed from the group. 

Just as Briac’s taut nerves were starting to loosen, a single arrow, of unknown origin, whistled through the air, grazed Frastos’'s ear, and lodged itself in Briac's high scholar's cap.

"What in the world?  Oh no!"  In his fright, drenched in sudden sweat, Briac nearly fell from his horse.  Only a quick reaction by Fradel Rurik Korvald steadied him in the saddle again.

Shaking like a leaf, he did not thank Fradel but cursed his dire predicament and considered how he could best break free of what seemed now to be a tight cordon of death trap and make good his escape. Quickly Briac decided on the best recourse left open to him and he purposefully reared the mare.  His hand next, grasped at the wig to tear it from his head (scalp) and same time his mouth opened wide to shout out loud his vehement denial and declaration: that he was but an imposter and not the cursed Fradel Rurik Korvald.  His eye just then however, catching (noticing) the captain's ephemeral, lethal, hard glare, Briac’s hand (on the wig), as well the words at the tip of his tongue, abruptly stayed (froze, came to a dead stop).

Zunrogo, obviously disappointed, grimaced wryly and sheathed his sword. He then turned and looked away in the far direction; where which just then, the solitary figure of Tizan had appeared from behind a rising hilltop and began swiftly descending towards them.

“So, this was your handy work.” Briac inwardly scoffed. “You couldn’t resist, yet again, to taunt me.”

The captain was more concerned how Tizan had managed to catch up to them so quickly and, meeting Tizan halfway, at once interrogated the Lieutenant.

"I took the short cut through Yennicroc pass." Tizan smirked (grinned) and shrugged his shoulders.

04- TZAN JP

Considering the nature of the treacherous terrain, the captain was impressed and nodded his approval.  "Still, I see you are none the worst, for wear."

Still grinning, Tizan threw a scornful look at Briac.  "You mistake me again, sir, for his likes."  His eyes filled with loathing as he indicated the pale impostor (Briac) with his chin.

Tizan’s words struck a raw nerve in Briac, and it was only with great difficulty that he forced some constraint on his seething rage. Gritting his teeth, Briac pulled out (grasped) the arrow that had lodged firmly in scholar’s cap, snapped it in two and disdainfully threw it to the ground.

The empty threat implicit in Briac's action greatly amused Tizan, who threw his head back and laughed uproariously.  Briac was about to say something more provocative to infuriate Tizan when Zunrogo interceded.

"Tizan, you and Fradel Rurik Korvald have not been properly introduced.  May I introduce you, sir, to my Lieutenant, Tizan Lout."

"We have already met." Fradel grimaced, returning Tizan's polite nod.

"Why, of course you have," the captain smiled, recalling the brief episode back at the Inn, when Fradel Rurik Korvald had raised difficulties with his first accommodation (alloted, assigned room).

As they talked, Tizan's eloquent tongue and pseudo fine mannerisms, affected solely for the sake of impressing the captain, grated on Briac's nerves.

Scoffing at this sycophantic (fawning) spectacle, he rode the mare on ahead, temporarily forgetting the constant danger to him.  When the Captain and Tizan took the lead, he fell back to sulk in the center of the group once again.

"Any unforeseen problems," Zunrogo suddenly questioned Tizan.

"None, Captain…As always none." Tizan answered smartly then, unhindered by the least shred of conscience, looked away, smiling smugly. Tizan had no way of knowing of course that he had been properly duped, as his malign plans were aptly undermined by the intrepid Kozur affiliates who had a (monopoly) personal stake in that region.

                                                                                    ~

After a restful night's stay at a roadside Inn, Briac awoke at cock's crow to another nasty shock.  Finding the scalp to be uncomfortably hot, he had taken it off before retiring and laid it on the night table, yet now it rested squarely atop his head once more.  Worse still, when he went to remove it to wash his face and scalp, for it itched terribly; he discovered that it was permanently fastened somehow to his own skin.

"What's wrong?" Frastos, who had just finished washing his own face and dressed already, noting the frustrated anger and dismay on Briac's face, asked.

05-FRASTOS - JP 17

"It won't come off.  It won't budge."  Briac tugged once more at the hair.

"Stop fooling around," Frastos came over and brusquely yanked the wig not expecting to find any resistance.

"Aiyhhh," Briac screamed in pain.  "What are you trying to do, scalp me?"

"You mean it’s for real?  That's impossible!"  Frastos' words were barely spoken when Tizan knocked and immediately stepped in.

"What?  You two aren't dressed yet?  You'll have to forfeit your breakfast then.  The captain wants both of you downstairs, immediately.  We're ready to leave.  Now!" he bellowed at them and turned to go.

Briac nimbly rushed to block his way.  "Are you responsible for this?" he pointed to the wig.

"What about it?" Tizan glared.  "It’s done in accordance with the captain's orders.  Do you want to make something of it?"

Briac inwardly dismayed, backed away from the challenge.  "Why?" A complaintive whimper escaped his lips, before he could stop it.

"You need to ask?" Tizan scoffed, his cold eyes pinned on Briac.  "He saw the stunt you almost pulled when my arrow pierced your cap.  Well, it’s to prevent you from repeating it again, and to keep you from disobeying orders.  Count yourself lucky you were spared from harsher reprimand.  I would not have been so lenient if I had been in charge."

“Well, thank Heaven you're not.” Frastos inwardly scoffed.

Frastos blanched and lowered his head, catching the hostile glower from Tizan (as if latter had read his thought), just as the lieutenant was exiting the room.

"Don't worry," Tizan ejected coldly, as he rushed his steps down the hallway, "the adhesive will wear off in a month or so."  He grinned venomously as he turned and headed down the stairs.  "That is, if you live that long."

 

                                                                                   ~

 

When the group stayed at an Inn on the outskirts of town for the night, Briac, in his (masquerading) pseudo role of a scholar found, the special treatment by the manager and help that his new status begets, very much to his liking.  Moreover, he was now a magnet to delightful ladies and gentry and taking advantage of this boon, shamelessly indulged in heavy drinking and licentious behavior long after Tizan, Fradel Rurik Korvald and Zunrogo had retired to their respective rooms.

When eventually Briac took his favorite up to their room, Frastos as his assigned bodyguard, with his back to them, was forced to be privy to all Briac’s passionate moaning and grunts, as he pawed her; hence, this adding smoldering jealousy to Frastos’s mounting list of resentments. But as the night progressed, despite his conscientious effort of vigilance (alertness), the hard days ride taking its toll, Frastos’s eyelids dropped, and he very nearly drifted off to sleep.

The beauty Briac was still shamelessly fondling chose this precise moment, to whisper a suggestion into his ear.  Finding this most agreeable, Briac rose to his feet and abruptly announced to Frastos, shocking him into full wakefulness (alertness), that he would retire now and that, temporarily, the guard's services would not be needed.

This subtly instructed Frastos, “to give him (Briac) a few hours ‘leeway to complete his amorous business, before Frastos returned to their shared room.”

“Why should I?”  Frastos was of half a mind to make things difficult for the impostor scholar but, on second thought relenting, shrugged his shoulders and rose.

His hand was about to turn the nob of the door, when, "What audacity!" he, with his back to them, heard her exclaim indignantly in her amorous voice.  "He should be reprimanded, if not punished, for such rudeness."

06- BEAUTY SEDUCING  BRIAC

Frastos could only guess at the lies Briac whispered behind him, as the latter (Briac) quietly sipped his drink.  In fact, Frastos was hoping for the slightest provocation, having had enough, to put Briac in his proper place.

Halting his grasp, “Go on, I dare you to reprimand me!” he hissed and then half turning his head, he glared at Briac.

He waited but since no such castigation (rebuke) happened; disappointed, he simply shook his head and quickly darted outside.

He did not stray too far from the door, musing, “Where am I supposed to go in this ungodly hour?”

"Oh, how sweet, how tolerant you are," he heard the woman's beguiling voice inside the room say, instead, as it drifted to pleasurable chuckles and moans (groan). 

"Oh, can't you be patient?" the muted whining came next, and the subsequent giggling.  "Oh, you are way too shameless!"

Then he heard Briac, with his heavy footing walking up to fasten the lock on the door.

“You got to be kidding me.” Frastos moaned.

"Oh, you mustn't do that.  Please leave the door unlocked."  The seductive intonation of her voice lured Briac into complying with her wishes. Or maybe Briac thought better of it, mindful of the possible repercussions from the captain, for disobeying orders.

“What a complete, utter fool you are.” Frastos shook his head with scorn. Totally disgusted at the outside, he quickened his steps to walk away and to spread as much distance as he could between him and this contemptible moron.

 Briac, on the inside, had waited and listened by the door till he was assured that Frastos, in quick succession, had descended those steps at the end of the hallway.

“He’s finally gone.” He turned, only to find her reclining provocatively on his bed, beckoning him to come into her embrace.

Grinning from ear to ear, like a hungry beast about to pounce on his prey, Briac rushed across the room and flung his body clumsily atop her, only to grasp the pillow instead as she agilely shifted to the other side.

 His loins were on fire.  "Come to me, my sweet dove.  I promise to be gentle." he purred as he leaned forward to hold her in a tight, passionate embrace.

"Is that any way for a gentleman to behave?  Oh, you are so strong you take my breath away."  She pushed him away coyly to fall back seductively among the heap of embroidered, plush cushions.

A log splitting in the fire, momentarily took his attention away.  He turned back to gently admonish her, "You mustn't toy with my affections."

07 - BEAUTIY (OR THE ASSASSIN)

The words, however, simply froze on his lips and his eyes widened with sudden fear.  In that scant lighting, in her hand, a dagger’s blade had flashed (catching the light of the lit candles) and the next instant, she launched it targeting his heart with murderous intent.

He was a seasoned soldier so at lightning speed he first swerved to avoid her deadly strike then lurched forward, his hand intending to grasp her wrist, to gain control of the dagger. Nevertheless, escaping his grasp, she, with one fluid motion jumped off the bed and then turned to, unafraid, squarely, still seductively, gaze at him.

“Was she merely toying with me?” Briac queried inwardly, as he noted the clear absence of malice and no implicit threat in those crystal, clear blue eyes of hers.

She, with unreadable emotion, meanwhile, unwarily gazed at him for a spell, seemingly assessing his next move, then simply let the dagger drop to the floor; after which, nimble as a cat, darted out the door.

 

(END OF SECTION 22)                                                                                                   ~