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.  

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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 RENEGADE IMMORTAL – SECTION 5

 Dwengzur, muttering an incomprehensible incantation, first drew a small circle of flame in the air, blew at it then, gestured grandly, “Behold!”

As Dwengzur sat on the chair and leaned his back to view the scene in comfort, the circle meanwhile had expanded then, got filled with images.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) now noted with disdain Zakhertan Yozdek’s Spartan sleeping quarters. Few minutes later, at the appointed hour Zakhertan’s personal guards took up their usual posts at outside, while Zakhertan pretending to retire, climbed into bed and drew up the curtains. But instead of going to asleep, he had slyly withdrawn to the secret antechamber off the bedroom proper, which he had often used. Meanwhile, the curtains around his bed being tightly drawn, gave the impression that he was there within and, fast asleep.

01- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (9) JP

Sovereign Zakhertan had been bidden by Dwengzur, to remain in his secret antechamber, for his safety’s sake, till all (the assassination attempt and the response), was over; alternatively, however, Zakhertan had planned to re-emerge once the fighting had started to observe and gain firsthand knowledge of the Immortals’ (otherwise well- guarded) abilities. This aspiration if fulfilled, would have made Zakhertan even more powerful.

Nevetsecnuac just then noted the Immortal Dwengzur peeping out from behind the ebony partition, having previously entered the room and hidden in a secret alcove behind the dark-hardwood-panel, his face the very picture of impatience. He’d waited there, nearly an hour, to set upon Zonar with a deadly force, the moment latter showed up. Dwengzur instantly ducked back in again as the rumbling groan forecasted the arrival of Zonar. The ceiling parted with a crackling noise and, riding a flotilla of clouds, Zonar majestically descended slowly into the center of the room. Instantly he became aware of Dwengzur's presence and turned to confront the threat. With lightning speed, Dwengzur had already launched his attack only to see the deadly onslaught parlayed with equal agility. Zonar struck back. Not once, but twice he delivered simultaneous assaults to the vulnerable points of his ardent foe. Dwengzur's clearly pronounced surprise was evident (marked) on his features; he had grossly underestimated Zonar's abilities. That mistake he strove to quickly rectify however, as Nevetsecnuac's eyes then beheld an incredibly electric fighting display. Meanwhile as if there were no walls there at all, Nevetsecnuac observed Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek springing up from his cot in the secret antechamber off the bedroom proper, unsheathing his sword and charging towards the door. Zakhertan next, tried turning the knob with his free left hand, to go outside.

Nevetsecnuac's face at once became suffused with anger as he noted the sword the usurper was brandishing in his right hand, the legendary sword of his great, great grandfather, Inghard Nevetsecnuac Therran Valamir, the founder of Ingolf Dynasty.

Nevetsecnuac had first learned the existence of this sword from the historical archives (the ancient paintings provided the image) as he was growing up under the assiduous tutelage of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon. The annals (chronicles and monographs) had also alleged, the blade had been forged from the meteorite that had fallen to Earth on the very day of Inghard Nevetsecnuac Therran Valamir's birth. The metal extracted from the meteorite rock was unyielding and unworkable; but after an extensive search, only an Indigenous blacksmith from a remote region of Anzui, proved capable of forging it into a magnificent sword. For decades since, this heirloom had proven indispensable on the battlefield for the warrior kings of Wenjenkun, as the blade kept its acerbic (sharp) edge regardless, slicing through rock, metal, and the strongest armor of most formidable foe. Moreover, the archives had stated that the sword possessed magical properties, and, in the benevolent hands of King Inghard and subsequent descendants, it had always radiated a pure blue, iridescence. With disdain Nevetsecnuac observed the bloody crimson glow that enveloped the sword’s blade now that it was in the grip of the villainous Usurper Zakhertan Yozdek.

02- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (1) JP

Finding the door jammed Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek meanwhile, with fury and great strength had struck, pounded, viciously kicked the door, and pulled at the doorhandle, as he same time bellowed commands and dire treats to both Dwengzur and his own indomitable guards. The sturdy construction of the doors, however, would not yield in the least. Once locked, they were made to withstand any onslaught; furthermore, at both ends Sovereign and the frantic guards’ efforts had all been-impeded by Dwengzur’s prior incantation, which kept both sets of doors sealed up tight, via (by means of) supernatural force.

All the while, in mid course, the uncanny, magnificent (outstanding) battle between Dwengzur and Zonar had raged. The impressive sight on occasion took Nevetsecnuac's breath away. Most of the time their forms were unrecognizable, just a huge, swirling blurs that assumed various shapes, colors, and sizes.

03- TREMENDOUS BATTLE BETW. IMMORTALS

Somersaulting, and then shooting up into the air, unobstructed by the non-existent ceiling, their swords clashed repeatedly in bursts of electric fire. Every so often they conjured up vile, hideous demons to engage in simultaneous combat overhead, their fiery blazes lighting up (illuminating) the sky all the way to the Heavens. The battle was so fantastic, so incredible; it boggled all senses and the mind.

Witnessing this, Nevetsecnuac's indomitable resolve and confidence gradually now waned, as he realized (grasped) the measure of his own mortal ability; moreover, he had now fully comprehended how Dwengzur and Zonar could only be, bested or killed, by their own kind and no other. His contest with Zonar therefore, aside from that lucky hap-stance (where the amulet was, lost), had been all along a hopeless escapade (feat).

“That is right! Now you know just what it is you are up against,” Dwengzur ejected smugly, eyeing Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Disregarding Dwengzur’s words and once more mental block in place, Nevetsecnuac further reflected how his hallucinogenic episode had been in fact a serious forewarning. Dwengzur being a more competent Immortal, what hope did Nevetsecnuac have, of besting him?

A slight feeling of consternation gripped Nevetsecnuac’s heart as he faced this new reality. Thankfully he had not tried engaging Dwngzur in a mortal combat; if he had done that, he could have sabotaged his chief aim! After all the training, the sacrifices the others had made on his behalf, all he had been through, and it would have all been (futile) in vain. At least he’d not made the gross underestimation of Dwengzur’s power! Nevetsecnuac was glad now, heeding his intuition earlier and, opting to fight Dwengzur solely through (by way of) psychological warfare.

Even though Nevetsecnuac knew beforehand the outcome of this now incessantly raging battle between the two Immortals, having witnessed its gruesome, violent ending (on his first day, arriving at the Capital), it only strengthened his earlier resolve and same time, rekindled his seething contempt for this formidable, invincible foe, Dwengzur. He would therefore do his utmost to avenge Zonar and to destroy Dwengzur. His mind unrelenting, Nevetsecnuac began formulating his next manoeuvre (plan). You must be like the water. He reminded self.  You must seem to yield when that is requisite, while adapting stealthy tactic to seize the advantage and obtain apex result.

Relaxing his mind’s block, Nevetsecnuac let this next thought now unobstructed, be revealed to Dwengzur, and then ended it with this sentence, how does it feel to be goaded, to have the shoe on the other foot?

“Hah?” Picking Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) deliberately antagonistic projection and than the goading, Dwengzur glared (in daggers) at Fradel Rurik Korvald. “What is that? You dastardly fiend, you played me?”

The Immortal was now quite incensed; then, Fadel’s subsequent projected thoughts aced his fury.

“None have dared be that presumptuous with me and lived to tell of it. Death will be a welcome relief when I am through with you, Fradel Rurik Korvald!”  Gritting his teeth, the immortal threw Fradel a contemptuous, venomous scowl, yet the controlled inner peace of the scholar did not waver, not in the least, in response to the threat in Dwengzur's eyes. Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) furthermore had continued outwardly with his prodding, the taunt clearly perceptible in his (vernacular) each idiom: "Such an impressive combat, yet the reason, which is the real reason, for Zonar's denunciation (censure), persecution  and demise, or rather his execution is, now please allow me a primitive being, to reiterate, to affirm that : Zonar Kuntzu’s condemnation had nothing at all to do with his interferences in the mortal realm, nor was it the posed threat to Zakhertan Yozdek; rather, it was necessary because your sacred laws had been breached. He dared to live and thrive at the outside world. As Zonar can never be forced into compliance, not by Elders of Karn or you, his defiance being the real threat, he was hence, slated (scheduled) for death. Imagine being threatened by one solitary Immortal, your race is doomed to fail, repeatedly.” Nevetsecnuac grimaced and shook his head, and then, continued with his taunting (goading). “Your race’s antiquated laws despite your prior claim of it being for the preservation of humankind is in truth is for, vigorously, at times belligerently, safeguarding and perpetuating Karn Race’s superiority over, not just us humans, but all other races.”

“Moreover, even though by your own admission, we humans are not worthy of any serious consideration, your kind is actually threatened by the inherent potential that you see in us."

After a purposeful pause, Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac)’s unflinching, dogged pupils was again, pinned, on the Immortal's flaming eyes. Fradel grimaced coldly, as he now inwardly and deliberately provoked the other. “Yet, intriguing and true these notions be, perhaps you would care to hear my further caveats(forewarnings)?” 

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) in deliberate slowness projected these next set of thoughts, making sure Dwengzur had grasped fully every premise (concept, idea, opinion).

04- ZONAR FIGHTS DWENGZUR

Fradel’s eyes back on the fighting Zonar, he gasped, as if in admiration. “What a fine warrior he is. Better then anyone I believe that your kind could produce!” All the while letting Dwengzur read his thoughts, without hindrance, he then turned his hard gaze back on Dwngzur and deliberately, with needling (inciting) thought, further provoked him:   “It is my contention that you pursued and so grievously disposed of such an exceptional, immortal warrior, because his true abilities were yet to manifest (ascertained). Also, guided by his contaminated heart, he might have posed more serious future disruptions to your race; as well, sought apt vengeance (retribution) for the grievous murders of his natural father, foster parents and mortal siblings.”

Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) uncanny, finely-honed (keen) insight unnerved Dwengzur; he now stared, for a time, menacingly back at Fradel and then, enunciated (issued) aloud this threat:  "I have underestimated you, scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald. I assure you, sir, I shall not repeat that mistake again." 

Not in the least bit intimidated, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) simply smiled.

 Dwengzur’s piercing, contemptuous eyes meeting the scholar’s unflinching gaze however, he again encountered the same obstruction, the same resistance to his probing. Undaunted, Dwengzur grimaced. “Go ahead,” he scoffed, detesting Fradel Rurik Korvald yet respecting him more, “erect all the barriers you can; in the end you will still lose. Your aim is too transparent.”  

A dismissive wave of the hand made the reeling scene on the wall, poof, disappear. He would not share any more information with this upstart scholar.

Feeling suddenly parched, Dwengzur reached for the wine decanter, consumed the contents of it in one, long, unhurried guzzle (swig, swallow) and, placing the empty flagon (flask) back onto the table, leaned back.

“I'm onto your tricks, petty human.”  He coldly scrutinized Fradel, while lending him only half an ear. “Two can play at this game.”  Dwengzur glowered.

Enjoying the predominant atmosphere of antipathy and this rare human’s uncommon courage and wit, “We’ll see just how long you can keep this up!”  Dwengzur, with his look of daggers, jeered at Fradel.

“But wait, I'm not through speculating.” Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) projected his subsequent, uncanny thoughts, which was at once picked up by Dwengzur. “I now venture to guess as to the real reason you, sir, have sought out my company and the motive behind this constrained inquisition… You wish to know if Zonar had imparted to me any sacrosanct Immortal's secrets.”  Nevetsecnuac boldly met Dwengzur's eye, catching the fleeting glint of acknowledgment in them.

"Why should I deny it?"  Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) shockingly direct revelation disturbed Dwengzur (took him back, made Dwengzur anxious) for a spell.

"But even if you utilize all your powers; still, you cannot extract it from me.” Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) bluffed, his eyes daringly meeting Dwengzur’s.

Most astonished by this display of raw courage, Dwengzur's indignation ebbed, and he grimaced slyly. "Your goading will not work this time?" Dwengzur interrupted Fradel subsequent words, with a gesture of his hand.

"Then again, your species are frequently deceitful; humans in general, are not known for their candor." Dwengzur shook his head. "In whatever status, misinterpretations of facts are an art form to you humans. Am I to believe that you are so different, a mutant perhaps?"  He looked directly, incredulously at Fradel, trying to gauge his response.

" No; after each encounter Zonar did not tarry long enough to pass on any such info, I’m certain of that.” Dwengzur after a deliberate pause, concluded. "Considering the gravity of this matter however, I must obtain solid confirmation for my self; and that can only be achieved, by penetrating your mind. The consequential damage, I assure you, will be minimal."  Then, as congenially as he could, he demanded that he, be allowed, to do just that.

Though a small consolation (solace, relief), it had been made perfectly clear to Nevetsecnuac by now, how without his permission Dwengzur could not probe into the deep recesses of his subconscious. Nevetsecnuac, with his definite misgivings about the Immortal, simply shook his head as his answer in the negative.

Dwengzur predictably viewed this refusal, as clear indication of the Scholar’s guilt; impatient with this standoff, he drummed his fingers on the table and pensively looked away:  So far, guile and coaxing had produced no satisfactory results. However, intriguing this obstinate human was, he still had wasted his precious time, particularly since he had hoped to have been well on his way by now.

He turned his harsh gaze back on Fradel and narrowing his eyes, ejected acerbically: "If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just relent."

Nevetsecnuac defiantly met other’s piercing eyes and shook his head, "You cannot intimidate me. I will relent all right; when Hell freezes over!”

"That can easily be arranged." Dwengzur's bark shook the entire hall to its foundations before he turned his head away to check his rising temper.

 It certainly would not do to reduce all of this to ashes. The Immortal exhaled deeply, oh, I had hoped to avoid this but, constrained for time as I am, I am hoping my master will go easy on me for this necessary infringement (via force to involuntarily extracting it out of him). Dwengzur’s ambivalence, this circumspect (guarded, prudent) leniency, of course had stemmed from, his innate terror of his master and the all too frequent repercussions (penalties) that he had endured, for his regular acts of disobedience; and so, for few more seconds he just fixed his blank stare on the tapestry hanging on the far wall. Then again there was that other option; he shrugged, and for that, scholar’s willpower needed, to be broken! Dwengzur's face, for a spell, shone with dark malice and he lowered his thoughtful gaze on the floor.

No, not just yet; he will use it as the last resort. As it where, he had already gone too far and for that, his punishment will not be light… Abruptly stopping his subsequent conjectures (speculations), he shook his head to dispel, to purge the succeeding (resultant) rush of unpleasant images and thoughts from his mind.

(END OF SECTION 5)

 

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