12- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE PORTENDED PERIL - SECTION 6

“What?” Zaur snapped, then caught Quinher’s concerned look and, relenting, gave his friend the look of apology for his rudeness.

01- PHYSICIAN QUINHER YUNGAR  (3)

The physician’s empathetic eyes meet Zaur’s briefly as he then thoughtfully, stroked his sparse beard. “Well, I f…feel I should inform you t…that t…there is an s…slight p…probability he m…may t…take a t…turn for the worse. In t…that eventuality, t…there is only one m…more d…drastic m…measure I c…can... administer…to him.”  Then he reached into his (medicine) bag and withdrew a flask. His index finger traced the strange label on the potent application (concoction) with a query in his eyes (pupils). He explained that, in the eventuality Fradel Rurik Korvald took a turn for the worse, this would either hasten the unfortunate scholar’s untimely demise or reverse the illness, granting him his life back once more, though the aftereffects were as bad as the disease. Noting the pain in Zaur’s eyes however, he decided to withhold rest of the truth from him. Taking a deep breath and letting go of the tension, for his stuttering always worsened when he was anxious or uneasy, he rose from the chair and came around to place a placating hand on Zaur’s shoulder. “Hopefully, we will not n…need it, eh? Now go. You will b…be informed at once if t…there will be any….c…change.”

Acquiescing, Zaur Stugr thanked Quinher for all that he had accomplished already, and then, since there was nothing constructive (further) he could do there, he turned and hastily left the room. Zaur rushed his steps down the narrow corridor, to reach his other study, expecting to receive certain intel any minute. He was in fact, most anxious to talk to his men, which had been dispatched an hour ago in pursuit of the likely (suspected) culprit, and to learn, what progress had been made thus far.

Earlier, while Fradel Rurik Korvald was being tended to by the physician Quinher, Zaur Stugr hand briefly snuck away to the next room to examine the suspect garment and upon his careful examination (scrutiny), he had discovered the tiny poisonous pin fastened underneath the jeweled cufflink. This had proved most helpful in providing the correct diagnosis and the treatment of the symptoms, since it had provided positive identification of the suspected venom. And even though the near invisible, tiny prick on Fradel Rurik Korvald’s wrist had drawn only neglectable drop of blood, it had nevertheless been quite effective, as the poison was absorbed through the skin anyway. Now this particular (singular) poison being so rare and so hard to procure (get hold of), the only likely (probable) architect had to be the Dark Eunuch. Zaur had acted swiftly in dispatching his men to apprehend the collaborating culprits on the slight chance they were still alive and, to force confession out of them. While he waited for their return, Zaur turned his attention to the assembled servants that had failed him. He remained furious with all the staff assigned to Fradel Rurik Korvald, particularly Cholden.

02- HEAD STUARD CHOLDEN

Zaur’s icy glare sweeping over the assembled group silently chastised them for their dereliction of duty, even though deep down he knew, and had to concede (admit), that they could have done truly little to prevent this (impending) disaster. Thus, forgoing (abandoning) the long-winded reprimand, Zaur hissed out a contemptuous breath and sternly dispensed his harsh reprisals, for the sake of maintaining strict discipline. After their dismissal, he sat down with a heavy heart, to ponder on the future means (efforts, methods), with which to minimize the harm (damage). Unavoidable, Zaur’s mind reverted to the supposed (gaged) conspirators and the mastermind Egil Viggoaries who had devised this evil scheme before his departure from Channing; this made Zaur’s fists clench in irate fury.

Unable to sit still any longer, Zaur bolted (sprung) to his feet and began pacing the room back and forth; for secretly he knew, despite his wishful hope what the impending results would be. Subsequently, he was not surprised, not in the least, when his men came back empty handed and reported the eventual demise of the culprits, from an accidental fire, no less. It was a sudden, fierce one that at great expense been contained from spreading, but not before it had completely gutted the shop (establishment) and claimed the lives of the proprietor and the staff working for him (his employees). Hence no legitimate evidence could be had, not now, not ever.

Zaur had received this report sitting stiffly upright in his armchair positioned by the fireplace (hearth), his face showing no emotion, a perfect mask, though inwardly his disappointment and seething rage were barely contained. Long after the dismissal of his men he sat motionless with a wry grimace affixed to his lips as he contemplated his other options and brooded over the lost opportunities in the event of Fradel Rurik Korvald’s demise or failure to show up for tomorrow’s appointment with Ronterron Zuke, never mind the summons, for both amounted to the same thing. As it was, Zaur had every confidence in Quinher’s ability, since he had seen him work miracles in the past; but, even if the scholar could be rescued from the jaws of death, he could not be expected to recover fully in time and be fit enough, to keep his appointment with Ronterron Zuke, by the subsequent day.

Zaur Stugr huffed and shifted in his seat; he had delayed the inevitable long enough, now he must pay an urgent visit to the Prime Minister and inform His Excellency of this disaster before the news reached him through other means. It would be atypical of that despicable Dark Eunuch not to have arranged this aspect (phase, consequence) of the strike. Before Zaur could act on this decision however, an urgent word from Physician Quinher, sent Zaur rushing back to Fradel Rurik Korvald’s side.

As Zaur entered the room, he heard Fradel Rurik Korvald’s vociferous (vocal, uttered) entreating (imploring) with his mother, in an obviously delirious state, for her forgiveness. Zaur gave Quinher a questioning glance.

“Although its m…may not appear so n…now, it is s…still a p…positive sign.” Quinher halting what he was doing, smiled at Zaur reassuringly. “He m…may p…pull t…through after all.”

Zaur Stugr signaled the physician to follow him outside, but Quinher anticipating his next question, answered him grimly with a shake of his head, “I am afraid his c…complete recovery will t…take a week at least. He will not b…be able to attend the appointment with Ronterron Zuke, t…tomorrow.”

The anticipated words, nevertheless, weighed like lead on Zaur’s heart.

“T…take s…solace, at least he w…will not d…die. Not immediately, a…anyway.”  Quinher’s subsequent, consoling words were ignored, as Zaur Stugr, for the first time feeling vulnerable, turned his back on the physician, knit his brows in deep dismay and stormed out of the room. In the ensuing minutes Zaur strolled aimlessly through the exquisite garden, his head down while he racked his brains for the apt solution…Searching for the right course of action to take.

03- MINISTER OF CEREMONY ZAUR STUGR (KOZUR LEADER) JP

The worst had been averted, true, but they were not out of the woods yet. How best to extricate from this impending disaster? His Highness was well known for his intolerance of failure; yet he could not, in pre-emptive (preventative, defensive) move, throw it all away (flee or order self-destruct); not after years of the extensive effort of establishing bond and entrenching members of the Organization into the (key) core administrative body within the Capital. The blame was his, for not considering this inevitability, (albeit its unlikelihood). How could he have been so complacent, so short-sightedly unwise as to have underestimated his foe?

                                                                                 …….

All this while, despite Nevetsecnuac’s physical comatose state, his mind fully cognisant, he had observed the beehive activity around him. The chatter of sounds though discernable at first, as time went by, gradually became more muted. Abruptly his body, which had been up till then weighted down like a huge boulder becoming immersed in a brilliant light, his soul lifted from the listless body and ascended (soared) towards the ceiling. He was at present floating in mid-air light as a feather, and looking down on his listless, rigid corpus (physical body).

“Am I dead?” Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) recalling the earlier incidental prick on his wrist, loudly queried, but the silhouetted figures below gave no response (no inclination), neither hearing nor seeing his apparition that floated about in the room. Dismayed, he quietly reprimanded (reproached) self for his inaction earlier and, for being so remiss.

I should have; I should have…What? He quickly realized that there was little he could have done to alter the past. At one-point Nevetsecnuac drawing closer and looking over the shoulder of attending physician Quinher, he observed Quinher’s meticulous care. Avidly he followed the physician’s ingenious application of acupuncture, the precision punctures (stabs, piercings) to stabilize his lifeforce (pulse) and more importantly, stem the spread (flow) of poison from reaching the vital organs. Nevetsecnuac observed furthermore, the unique method with which the poison was extracted (leeched) from his body.

On the verge of complete success however, suddenly Quinher’s brows knit in deep dismay; a surprise setback, the anon discoloration of the skin on arm, neck, and face, added to the other visible symptoms (signs) manifesting now on Scholar’s (vitals and) limp body, clearly perturbed (disconcerted) hard working Quinher. He took in a long, exasperated breath and exhaling deeply, looked away.

Despite all, the patient was still at death’s door!

Quinher wiped away the sweat from his forehead and reaching over, picked up the cup containing the rest of the antidote but then after a momentary deliberation, he vehemently shook his head and put it down again. He had already administered the safe, right dosage to the patient; any more would bring serious harm to his vitals. There had to be another way! Refusing to concede therefore, he wracked his brains for that most allusive (circuitous) resolution that currently escaped him.

Intrigued, Nevetsecnuac reached for the same cup resting on the side table, but since he was unable to pick it up, for his hand went right through it, he contented himself with bending over and sniffing the contents, the small measure of the fluid, which had been left in it.

The rare, pungent smelling antidote, in diluted crab-apple and honey mix solution, was unlike anything Nevetsecnuac had known. Though his uncle Lord Asger had schooled him extensively on the variety of toxins and corresponding cures, this one being a mystery, Nevetsecnuac was pondering on its origin, when the room suddenly flooded in a blinding luminescence.

“No, I cannot leave… Not yet! I must return to my body.” Nevetsecnuac clung to the bedpost in protest, resisting being carried off by the sudden tempestuous rush of air that had at that moment inundated the entire room. But despite all his exerted effort, his grip was still violently torn away, and he was (sucked) propelled with incredible force into the whirlwind.

04 B - NEVETSECNUAC'S SURREAL EXPERIENCE

From there he was cast into a great void, where which he weightlessly floated within this dark, limitless expanse; and unfortunately, no matter which direction he glided (drifted), he always returned to the selfsame spot, or rather, it felt like that, for there was no variation of any kind in the eternal, infinite abyss.

At one point however he envisioned he was in midst of a sky over the vast forbidden icy peaks, whose summits were in the clouds, reaching up to Heavens. His hair was now completely white and there were dragons in the sky and a devastating whirlwind, a hurricane force winds over the planet Earth. Then came the fragmented images of the ground below that were utterly desolate, covered by ice and snow as far as the eye could see.

Despite the hopelessness of his situation, Nevetsecnuac was not one to give up so easily; relentlessly therefore, he strove to escape his dire, nightmarish entrapment till he expended every ounce of his vigour (energy). In the end, his heart pounding (hammering) fiercely in his chest, his breath heaving, he lowered his head in sad resignation. This outcome, had to have been, Heaven’ ordained.

“No, it was not.”  A gentle sound countered (contradicted this notion).

Nevetsecnuac reeled (turned) to see who had ejected those words and saw a beautiful, distinguished, noble lady floating towards him.

Are your Ladyship, a friend, or a foe? He was about to ask, when she with hurtful eyes, reading his mind, disappointedly, shook her head.

“You forgot your own mother, the one who gave you life?” she choked the hurtful words out, as her glistening tearstained eyes rested on him. “But then, you were ripped from (my bosom) my arms, in your infancy.” Lowering her head, she mumbled mournfully. “By rights I should have no cause for regrets for Lord Asger has sacrificed so much and (he has) devoted his whole life to bringing you up so righteously. You have lacked neither love nor attention.”

05-NEVETSECNUAC'S MOTHER ( INGRIT, ALSO KNOWN AS ARNORA )

“Mother?”  Nevetsecnuac, overcoming his shock, reverently bowed his head to her. It was all he could do in his buoyant (floating) form, to show his high regard (proper respect) to his mother. “Please, mother, forgive my impertinence, I…”

“It’s all right, son.” she interrupted him, opening her arms for an embrace. Rushing (floating) into each other’s arms both mother and son hugged (clasped) each other and sobbed.

“But this is no time for rejoicing or consolation either.”  Momentarily, curtailing her emotions, she drew away. Drying her eyes she spoke with affection, “I have come here, in disobedience (infringing, breaching) of the divine rules, on an urgent task. Your honourable father should have been the one to mend the error in your latest judgement and then guide you back on the right course, except that he is furious with you. He can be so obdurate (inflexible, obstinate) at times.”  She shook her head in exasperation.

“No matter; when he was distracted, I managed to get away (sneak away).”  She exhaled deeply and composed herself. “Listen, my precious, we are all aware of the turmoil that has been plaguing (afflicting) your heart and mind. You are a loyal, filial son but your recent, disagreeable experiences and odd events have deceptively, altered your perspicacity (logic, discernment, and wisdom). Please do not interrupt as I have truly little time to spare. Besides, its dangerous for you to linger in this abyss, an ambit (domain) between two realms of existence, too long. You could be permanently (eternally) trapped here, forfeiting your soul to the…” She shuddered, looked about her fearfully, unable to bring herself to even utter the name.

Nevetsecnuac, intuitive self however, suddenly tensed, as the name STHETOR manifested in his brain. But who was Shetor? Why did it evoke such dread…. There were also other disjointed words, such as ….  Nevetsecnuac’s mother’s voice, however, just then snapped him out from his private cogitations (deliberations).

When she’d spoken up again, understandably, her tone now was most urgent: “Please heed my words son, this is not about filial piety or righteous vengeance, though in part it could be construed as such; souls who had been condemned to roam the Earth or forever trapped in the eternal void, after your combat, finally vindicated, will be free (released) to enter Heaven. Yet your part (role) in all of this entails much, much more. You, my beloved, has been ordained by Heaven, to function as the instrument of Fate. Yes, on rare occasions it rests solely on the shoulders of a single individual (being) or,” dropping her head she inaudibly mumbled, “in this case also on another, hmm…The enviable bond between the two of y…” She abruptly curtailed (held) her tongue, and looking up at him, apologetically smiled. “But I digress; do you really think that it was by coincidence that you were lured out of the mountain abode prematurely? No, Heaven works in mysterious ways! If you do not go through with this, or if you fail, consequences, which I will now enumerate succinctly, will befall Wenjenkun: Zakhertan Yozdek has had a premonition, a warning; acting on it, he will execute Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund, the key component in future providence, sooner than he intended. If Zakhertan dies however, Qarzten will escape this catastrophe and Wenjenkun will be safe for a time under his competent rule. This will grant the heroes of Wenjenkun, a requisite, most valuable time to fulfill their fate (lot in life, their calling). If on the other hand Zakhertan lives, countless will perish, among them, Lord Asger, Fradel Rurik Korvald, my grandson Alric Svein, my granddaughter Lueling.”  She halted her speech at this point to dry her eyes, then choking back her emotions, she continued. “Instead of fulfilling their great destinies, they will be instead captured and in chains brought to Channing, to be tortured and ignominiously executed at the hand of that bloodthirsty Zakhertan Yozdek. That is the ill fate that will befall them. You must, therefore, do your utmost to eradicate Zakhertan Yozdek, this great evil of Wenjenkun. His reign is at an end anyhow; two years from now, because of a hunting accident which will permanently incapacitate (cripple) Zakhertan Yozdek, he would meet his imminent demise (death). By then the festering factional infighting, however, would have cast (plummet) the nation into a civil war, fueled in part by Deng Hedenko and those affiliated with Korion. During this time, the devastation in Wenjenkun will be insurmountable (immeasurable). After the eventual conquest of Wenjenkun, under the ruthless dominion of Emperor Deng Hedenko, the destructive elements would be so catastrophic that Wenjenkun as a nation would simply cease to exist.”  She shook her head grimly and paused, to simply allow it all to sink in. “On the other hand, succeeding in your noble aim… well, let’s just say that Heaven has given us a rare second chance.”  She smiled sweetly, reassuringly.

Mysteriously (inexplicably), through an innate magical power, Nevetsecnuac was then able to read succinctly, the arrested (checked), forbidden info, in her mind. “Wenjenkun (hardened by the fires of defeat) will rise again from the ashes to, one day under the leadership of its then benevolent Emperor, Alric Svein (the great-grandson of Zuronghan Therran Valamir), to become the mightiest, enduring nation for centuries to come. Wenjenkun, Korion, and even Kontu united under one benevolent ruler, will enjoy the lasting peace and prosperity.”

“Now, son, close your eyes and bid your soul to return to your body. You must strive, with all your might (vigour), to live again. Having said what I came to say, I shall now bid you my fond farewells, my most beloved son.”

Her words echoed in the void as she disappeared before Nevetsecnuac could respond with his own reassertion of eternal affection and gratitude to her. With his eyes misted shut, he followed her advice.

 

 

(END OF SECTON 6)

https://legend-of-ne-vet-sec-nuac.blog/2026/09/29/podcast-episode-legend-of-nevetsecnuac-book-12-the-portended-peril-section-6/

 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) 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL – SECTION 2

The general guests well into their cups, P.M. Lamont Gudaren unleashed the profligate centerpiece of the night's entertainment: a licentious, at times violent orchestration of a ribald theme by a famed opera company.

Nevetsecnuac (seated at the honoured position) was unfortunately, constrained to watch this tactless display; to alleviate his discomfort, he downed (consumed) several more cups of fine wine, exceeding his limit.

01 -PM LAMONT GUDAREN -2-JP

Noting Fradel Rurik Korvald’s slight annoyance, the Prime Minister, already ripened to the occasion himself, leaned forward and confided his deep disappointment to Fradel, that the great magician and seer, Dwengzur, had been unable to be located and therefore could not have been prevailed upon to enliven this gathering. "If the great Dwengzur had performed but one of his famed magic", Lamont Gudaren avowed, "This show we are watching would be paled in comparison.  I regret that I can only provide the second best."  After the expected polite disclaimer from Fradel, Lamont had swiftly resumed, "In fact no one, not even the Sovereign, has seen him since the cowardly assassination attempt that has aroused the anger of everyone in the Channing."

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac)'s interest was now roused. Even though his reason told him otherwise, he remained hopeful that Dwengzur and Zonar were the same and that the wretched, badly charred corpse in the central square was indeed the emissary from Kontu, as Zaur Stugr and everyone else firmly believed.  A tiny ripple of anxiety and impatience washed over him.

“If only Dwengzur had attended this party; this matter could have been firmly resolved.”

That instant as if prompted by this very thought, there arose a low, disturbing hum which grew into an angry rumble. It seemed to emanate from the center of the tall dome that stood atop the octagonal hall, spreading downwards, and causing the walls themselves to quake violently.  The flames in the hanging braziers dimmed, quivered then blazed into full brightness, fanned by a gust of wind which arose out of nowhere. An odd, pungent smell rode this wind, circling the hall like a whirlwind to assail all nostrils like a harbinger of evil. From out of the walls themselves, a dense, luminous, crimson fog, streaked with plumes of azure, coiled around the gathering, shrouding everything in its tendrils and then, abruptly all noise ceased.

02- LUMINOUS CLOUDS

In the eerie stillness, Nevetsecnuac felt an icy touch on the nape of his neck.  He turned sharply but could see nothing through the dense, radiant haze.

Slowly the incandescent fog dissipated and the figures of his host, the entertainers, guests, servants, musicians and even the exotic animals in their cages could then be, discerned. Yet something was not right, they were all frozen in their various poses. It was as though time and all life in the great hall had stood still. Nothing, not even a breath or the lightest breeze moved. Not a single strand of hair stirred. Reality as once was, was now in question; meanwhile, the prevalence of dark, demonic presence encapsulated the stifling air.

03- DEMONIC PRESENCE

Frowning, Nevetsecnuac rose cautiously from his seat and, placing his hands at the edge of the table, he craned his neck this way and that, to survey the entire hall. Everything about him without exception was inert (stationary). Even the wine that was just-being-poured remained suspended in mid-air. Wagging tongues, animated gestures, shrieks of amused laughter were all arrested. On the center stage an opera player was, frozen in mid somersault as he dodged the speeding knife that now hovered in mid flight. The woman on the divan, caught in the scripted adultery and attempting to hide her partial nakedness under the sheets, her and the billowing sheets were also perfectly stationary, solid, and unmoving as rock. A single house fly that was about to be swatted, lay frozen in mid-flight just inches from a cross-eyed servant's nose.

Leaving the table, Nevetsecnuac walked the length of the hall and stepped onto the terrace (veranda, balcony) to check the view in the garden.  Again, he observed nothing but unnatural stillness as far as the eye could see. Ahead, the main fountain's water, tear shaped and motionless, was trapped in its trajectory. Beyond the carefully landscaped hedges, ripples were frozen solid on the manufactured pond as a golden carp balanced on the water like a brass statue to snatch a motionless mosquito. Even the air itself had stilled. There was no evidence, not in the slight, of the refreshing breeze that had previously caressed his cheeks and rustled the branches. There was no harmonious melody of the nocturnal insects to grace the ears.

04- THE  GARDEN STILLED

Returning to the great hall, he again sat down and taking a sip from his cup, wondered out loud, “Could I be dreaming this? Was the wine drugged and this is the resultant (ensuing) hallucination?”  Nevetsecnuac's mind, unbidden, brought back the vivid memory of his strange experience on Yekono Mountain. “No, only a great supernatural force or a magician of superior caliber could cause (bring about) such an all-encompassing transformation of this magnitude.”  Nevetsecnuac quickly refuted (countered) his query.

"You are quite correct in that assumption; this is not a dream.” a voice boomed behind him.

“Zonar,” with hopeful anticipation, Nevetsecnuac turned only to be greeted by another, equally remarkable being. This distinguished giant of a man, in his late twenties bore the same wild mane of blazing red hair as Zonar, yet his features were somehow smoother.

The being inclined his head ever so slightly in greeting: "I apologize for the dramatics, but I very much wanted to make your acquaintance before I took my leave. You, of course, know who I am?"  He grimaced wryly as his eyes burrowed into Nevetsecnuac's.

Nevetsecnuac responded in kind with a smile and then bowed his head in polite greeting, to express with eloquence his pleasure at having this rare opportunity to, finally, make the Immortal Dwengzur’s acquaintance.

“Strange,” Dwengzur noted, “this is the first time my abilities have been rendered so ineffective. This one's willpower is so strong; it is like an impenetrable wall. Never have I seen its like, though the ruler of this very country, Wenjenkun, did come close.” 

05-IMMORTAL DWENGZUR

Dwengzur , who could manifest his presence at any age and therefore had picked a form (an appearance) closer to Fradel’s in order to put him at his ease, was intrigued. “So, you have been forewarned of my telepathic powers, I see.”  Dwengzur narrowed his eyes. “By the same token, you know how I needed to make contact in a certain way to achieve my purpose and you should have therefore been at your ease. Contrarily, you are so circumspect; just what is it that you are guarding against so vehemently?”

True enough, Nevetsecnuac was chary (cautious) of Dwengzur's abilities and paying heed to his intuition, had erected barriers in his mind and marshaled his thoughts in the most abstract, least damaging direction. The gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach still warned him that Dwengzur was untrustworthy, dangerous, and far more powerful than he let on. There was also another strong reason for Nevetsecnuac to be wary of this Immortal. Hadn't Dwengzur been the one who, colluding with Egil Viggoaries, warned the eunuch of Fradel Rurik Korvald’s portent of danger to his life? The inner conflict, only moments before expertly masked and prevented from coloring his random thoughts, presently in defiance (rebelliously), swelled within Nevetsecnuac to turn into sheer disdain for Dwengzur; for the mere presence of this Immortal gave truth to Zonar’s dreaded fate. Nevetsecnuac, clenched his teeth in utter contempt, recalling the charred remains that presently was hung in the Central Square.

“Ah,” Dwengzur conceded inwardly, never once taking his eyes off Nevetsecnuac, the mind ruled by reason, may oftentimes be tamed; but the senses, a victim of emotions, was at odds here. Once such conflict exists, it will open a crack in yet the strongest armor and then, even the steadfast resistance would be rendered vulnerable. Emotions are the human failing that eventually betray the most resolute will. Dwengzur grinning, more astutely now, studied Fradel.  Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald had obviously harbored a certain fond admiration for Zonar which, strangely enough, seemed to have been reciprocated. This is the advantageous material, which Dwengzur had grasped.  At present, by exploiting this singular aspect he hoped to extract more data, same time sought to gratify his curiosity and ascertain that no forbidden knowledge had been communicated by Chandor- (Renegade Zandar Kuntzu) or by his son, Zonar, to the outside world. Everyone within Karn Race, had to abide steadfastly by this ancient law, for even the least breach could warrant only one outcome and, it had been with the intention to tie up any loose ends, to terminate (cease) any leaks that, Dwengzur, had made this flamboyant visitation and sought out Fradel.

Dwengzur, had conveniently forgotten of course, his own foible (imperfection)just last week, at which point in time he had been tricked by guileful Egil Viggoaries to reveal a secret incantation that enabled one to (shapeshift) transform into any form or being. But he was not at all worried about that kink, and Egil Viggoaries had been forewarned of the dire consequence if he, being a mortal, ever tried to use it. Nevertheless, Dwengzur shook his head, to purge the memory of that dreadful blunder of his, from his mind and then, striding over to Nevetsecnuac, casually helped himself to a drink.

"You'd rather it was he, who greeted you now." Dwengzur said, after he had drained the second cup in one gulp. "We originate from the same race after all, Zonar Kuntzu and I… That is the name you knew him by, is it not?"

Not caring whether he received an answer, the Immortal looked disdainfully about him, sweeping the guests with a gesture of his hand and spoke. "Hah! For all their schemes and paltry ambitions (goals), they are such gullible, predictable bores. Don't you agree? They hold such high opinion of themselves, yet they spend their brief life's energy on such selfish, trivial pursuits. But perhaps this one could be the exception that proves the rule." Strangely enough, Dwengzur had pointed to Zaur Stugr, then added, "And you’re most notable self, of course." Dwengzur waited for a spell, but again the goad had produced no (satisfactory) typical response.

06- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC) JP 3

Turning his fiery gaze back to Nevetsecnuac, Dwengzur had met only an unflinching, dispassionate, blank stare (gaze). Well, where is that explosive rebuff, the unbridled anger so typical of your species (kind)?

“Are you not in the least bit curious as to why I've singled out this minister in particular?”  Dwengzur grumbled in barely audible voice.

“You will enlighten me when you’re ready.” Nevetsecnuac had lowered his guard for a second or two, to allow the Immortal to read this thought. After shrugging to simply indicate indifference, he again erected the mental barriers and, coolly looked away.

Dwengzur marvelled at Fradel’s outstanding, disciplined mind. “Such an unusual self-control; what would it take to provoke you?”

Dwengzur's slight irritation hinted at the exasperation he felt and confirmed Nevetsecnuac's suspicions that the Immortal's abilities far exceeded what had been rumored.  Nevetsecnuac smiled, grasping at once the reasons why Dwengzur had perpetuated the false notion, (that he relied on the placing of hands coupled with the recitation of an arcane spell to penetrate a man's innermost thoughts,) and the limitations. Otherwise, he would not have been, so well tolerated in Royal Court or received any cooperation from those of real consequence. Meanwhile Nevetsecnuac had well affirmed his suspicions that Dwengzur was capable of reading anyone’s mind, without the theatrics, from close proximity, provided that the targeted individual was conscious (wakeful) and was caught unawares. Had the conscious state of the individual not been a prerequisite, Dwengzur would not have bothered with this spectacle and would have scanned Nevetsecnuac's mind, anytime and anywhere, when he was sleep, inebriated or (when rendered) in a trance.

 A broad smile reached Nevetsecnuac's lips, as he had just then conceived of a way to effectively deal with this Immortal.

07- IMMORTAL DWENGZUR

Just then however, Nevetsecnuac's eye caught the gleaming pendant that at that moment had manifested at the surface of the garment; prior it had been invisible, as it was fastened to Dwengzur's inner garment. Nevetsecnuac shifted his stance with unease recalling, during one of their long drinking sessions, certain facts that Zaur Stugr had inadvertently disclosed. For instance, how Egil Viggoaries for a time had held certain sway (dominance) over the Immortal Dwengzur, after he had stealthily (slyly, cunningly) obtained the amulet and well concealed it, till such a time, he had been forced to relinquished it to Zakhertan Yozdek.  The pendant had allegedly contained a piece of the Immortal's umbilical cord (from birth), therefore was, most essential, for the continuance of the Immortal’s existence. Yet, here it was, in safe keep of the Immortal.

Nevetsecnuac skeptically narrowed his eyes, questioning at present, the validity of the rest of Zaur Stugr’ proclaimed facts. True or false, it could have also been a purposeful ruse by Dwengzur, who by design had leaked this misinformation. Egil Viggoaries could have been further duped into believing that he could utilize it to subjugate or even destroy the Immortal, at will. Zakhertan Yozdek believing in the same had forcefully confiscated it, only to lose it shortly thereafter. Regardless, the pendant's importance, could not be, entirely dismissed.

As Nevetsecnuc had not concealed these musings, Dwengzur picking it up, had been totally amazed at the scope and insightfulness of, scholar Fradel’s brilliant mind. The umbilical cord nonsense had been, in fact, a misinformation. The amulet’s suitability was determined solely by Immortal’s genetic markers. Even if another had obtained the object (talisman), the link could never be established and they, mortal or immortal, could never be able to exploit the rock sprit known as Cassars, who was the entity trapped within it, to further their agenda; furthermore, the genetic markers if tampered with, would have only resulted in the destruction of the amulet. The immortal, who was the guardian, had the inherent right, to name (any name of his choosing,) this enslaved entity. The talisman (amulet), far from being advantageous, it was more a bane, a blight, to the Immortal, for once the link was established, the Immortal wearing the amulet and his ward (Cassar), from then on, would be in a symbiotic relationship: each being aware of the other’s feelings, sensations, discernment, impressions, and experiences. Cassars being an unruly, wily, and rapacious creatures, the Immortal had to from then on, tolerate and endure the creature’s vile sensations (feelings) and, it’s most abhorrently repellent thoughts!

08- CESSARS A_edited 2

Dwengzur’s attention was suddenly drawn to Nevetsecnuac’s next inner query.

Why had Dwengzur, seen fit to accost him (Fradel) at this specific time and place; why hadn’t the Immortal made his presence known much earlier on, when he (Fradel) was alone in the garden, or in his quarters with far less dramatics? 

Just as abruptly thereafter, Fradel’s thoughts had again ceased being clear and, became vague (imprecise) or altogether hidden, to Dwengzur.

He can do this at-will? Dwengzur was quite impressed.

An icy tension had suddenly gripped Nevetsecnuac’s limbs meanwhile when the answer to his inner query had become all too apparent. Nevetsecnuac subsequently, guardedly, had conceived this future response: “He did not expect to have things easy with me. He needs a roomful of hostages to force my hand; I must therefore resist being, antagonized. Absence of least emotion may minimize the damage.” 

 Dwengzur in the interim, having received no further input, fetched himself another full jug of wine and poured himself three capfuls; after he gulped the fragrant brew down in quick successions, he threw a cursory glance back at this elusive Fradel Rurik Korval. Truth-be-told, Fradel’s fine, regal bearing, his exceptional good looks, his intelligence, tenacity, and other apparent strengths might have impressed Dwengzur if he did not so utterly despise all humans. To him humankind was the lowest form of life (species) on the evolutionary scale, ranking just below (maggots) slime worms.

Suddenly requiring a more comfortable place to sit; especially one by the window, Dwengzur impatiently snapped his fingers, to forcibly eject two prominent dignitaries at the adjacent table and hurl them clear across the room to land, headfirst in a heap of dishes, on a far table. Seating himself in one of the vacated plush chairs he casually indicated that Fradel Rurik Korvald should take the other seat now positioned across from him and waited until the scholar, albeit dejectedly, had complied.

"Would you care to share a drink with me?" he asked with an enigmatic grin, pouring the draught into another available cup, and placing it before the scholar.  His manner was most dignified even though the tone was cutting, while at the same time congenial and sincere. His affable gaze fixed on Fradel, it was saying: “let us dispense with the formalities, shall we? And no more games; after-all, I know all there is to know about you and your kind. You may as well relax your vigil and painlessly surrender to my will as this is as inevitable as tomorrow's sunrise.”

Though his distrust of Dwengzur counselled him to decline the offer of wine Nevetsecnuac's good breeding prevented him from so openly antagonizing the Immortal. Reluctantly, with thanks he shared, four more capfuls, all the while marshaling his thoughts, unrelenting and obstinate as ever, in his attempt to frustrate Dwengzur's persistent aims.

 

(END OF SECTION 2)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 9

 Nevetsecnuac, having decided to meet Zaur halfway then, more clearly proceeded to solicit (request) Zaur Stugr's help, "If it would not be too much of an imposition (trouble) Minister Stugr, perhaps you could entrust it to the proper authorities so that, in keeping with my promise to Yakkasar, it may be returned to the pit in question.  I would be most appreciative if you would inform me also of the further developments, especially ones leading to resolving this rather intriguing (fascinating) mystery."

Expressing moderate curiosity, Zaur Stugr graciously accepted the task of handling this trivial matter at his earliest convenience. 

01 ZAUR STUGR JP 12

"And perhaps there may be other historical artifacts that would be of importance, warranting excavation at the site." he smiled mischievously. Then as if in an afterthought, Zaur gravely added, "Of course this province is riddled with many such graves and pits of varying sizes, containing skeletons, corpses of indicted dissidents, cadaver of convicts and traitors, whom all of course, richly deserved their ill fate.”

“In any case best to be prudent, with this investigation and in enlisting help. Then there is the requirement for a permit, which I must attain, from the works department. But I may need more data…”   He abruptly looked up at Fradel.

After a seeming hesitancy and purposeful pause, proclaiming that he needed this in case the authorities questioned him on it, Zaur urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to jog his memory about the specifics of the topography or any other identifying landmarks in the vicinity of the pass which may assist in quicker resolve or at least, an educated guess as to its location.

Fradel agreed to this, with a lowered head, pretended to be lost in deep thought for a time, presumably jogging his memory.

 Zaur (with a puckered brow) grimacing, studied Fradel for a moment; then with an affable tone, introduced a suggestion. "This may help; from the details you've offered already, I've deduced that it could be Kneco, Cyprecox, or Yeruz Pass."

Nevetsecnuac pretending to have just then recollected some pertinent facts, cried out, " Yes, that's it, the very one. I remember now.  It was the Cyprecox Pass that Yakkasar was headed for.  Though he did refer to Kneco Pass, it was at a different time and in an entirely unrelated context."

"Now you're quite certain about this?" Zaur studied Fradel with concealed anxiety.

"Quite certain," Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reaffirmed then, pretending that he'd remembered more of what Yakkasar had told him, readily volunteered (furnished) more specifics (details) regarding the location, much to Zaur's satisfaction.

"Well, this night's conversation has been quite dynamic and rather fruitful (productive).  Thank you for presenting me with this most intriguing opportunity; I'll do all that I can to resolve this mystery for you." Zaur Stugr promised earnestly, quickly dismissing Fradel’s uttered, profuse gratitude.

Smiling affably, he then begged Fradel's indulgence and patience, cautioning the scholar not to get his hopes up too high, for the truth once uncovered, might not be as enriching or colorful as supposed (or imagined).

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) politely yawned to express his fatigue, and then quickly proposed (suggested) that they should retire for the night.

Finding this most agreeable, Zaur signaled for the servant in attendance, to have the repast be cleared soon as they left; after which he solicitously (ushered) escorted Fradel to his sleeping quarters, before retiring himself to his own suite.

                                                                                               ~

Short time later, when all were tucked and happily sleeping under their warm quilts, Zaur Stugr quietly rose from his bed and going over, retrieved a small flagon (flask) he kept in the second drawer of the night table. Removing the seal, he gulped (ingested), enough of the special tonic, which quickly (in a short span) deleted the ill effects of excessive drinking and restored one’s full faculties.  Zaur next, taking special care not to wake any of his personal servants, washed his face, swiftly changed his clothes and quietly snuck outside.

02- ZAUR STUGR

Though Nevetsecnuac's speculation had come exceedingly close to the truth, he could not have imagined the depth of gravity that this key had held for Zaur Stugr.

Zaur, very much sobered now by his pumping adrenaline, held out a small oil lamp before him to illuminate the way, as he hastily proceeded with determined steps through a maze of hallways and garden paths.  Eventually he arrived at the old study on the far side of the East wing.

The wing had been sealed off ever since Kokone Iver, the previous owner's beloved third concubine committed suicide after being sexually assaulted (violated, raped) by one of, Rujune Iver’s esteemed house guests.  The strange gruesome apparition who had persistently haunted (appeared in) the hallways after her tragic demise, was attributed to her restless, unavenged spirit.

The perpetrator guest rapist, called Lord Nirekel Konuer, had at the time been far too powerful and too well connected to the higher officials; and so, despite Rujune Iver's efforts to bring him to justice, he had escaped punishment.

The subsequent grave rift that had existed as consequence, between Rujune Iver and Lord Nirekel Konuer, had outlasted the culprit Nirekel’s eventual horrific demise from a mysterious, sudden ailment.

 The hostility between the Konuer and Iver Clans had in due course, fostered some violent repercussions; especially since, the rumors concerning Rujune’s visits to a famous shaman in the workers' quarters, and this having something to do with Lord Nirekel’s sudden, macabre death, had persisted for many a year. And despite the absence of any solid evidence, the incidences of savage retributions, the bloodshed continued (to rock the Capital) for quite some length of time to eventually die down. 

But not before Rujune Iver, having been persecuted unmercifully by Lord Nirekel Konuer's ardent cliques, had eventually lost the favor he had at court and, having been subsequently charged with treason, suffered the extreme death penalty.  Unfortunately, this had meant the extinction of his entire clan, including his wife and concubines as well as, all the family's property (estate) being confiscated by the state.  Yet, because of the purported haunting of the East wing, this otherwise exceptional mansion in the heart of the Capital had remained unsold and untenanted (vacant).

Zaur was only a minor official but one with promising future at that time and had just been transferred to a more lucrative posting in the Capital.  Not being superstitious in the least and assured that no senior official wanted the property, he was quick to seize this opportunity and procure Rujune Iver’s magnificent mansion for an affordable price.  Seeing that it was to his advantage to continue, the purported belief in the haunting Zaur gave outward credence to the stories and sealed off the East wing, declaring it off limits to everyone and all his staff.

03-GHOST Kokone Iver  IN THE EAST WING

Then covertly engaging trusted workmen, he had a secret tunnel constructed directly into the unused wing from a niche in the outer wall.  Zaur Stugr’s planning and vigilance had paid off and, unknown to his family and staff, he henceforth had conducted all clandestine matters on these premises.

For over five years now, with none the wiser to the comings and goings, he had been able to establish a vast underground web of alliance and intrigue that had escaped all detection.  This was no small feat for the Sovereign possessed an elite and very effective Secret Police (as well as, the ruthless Black Band Guard Regiment) in addition to the rival spy networks established by Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries (also affiliated with The Black Molochs).

Halting before a tall, green door Minister Zaur Stugr thumbed the keys at his belt and, finding the right one, inhaled deeply to steady him-self before he turned it in the lock.  Lifting the latch, he opened the door softly.  Only the rush of air leaving the room disturbed the quiet of the night.  Stepping inside, his eyes briefly perused the rare antiquities that adorned the shelves, the countless valuable scrolls that were housed in specially constructed wall units that took up two walls all on their own, the plush sofa off in the corner and the desk with its neat pile of documents awaiting his decisions.  Things were exactly as he had left them.  Reassured, he turned and bolted the door behind him. He walked over the desk and opening the top drawer took out the certain (booby trapped) letter his agent Kaelan had delivered to him a week before Fradel Rurik Korvald’s arrival.

He’d been so burdened (engaged) playing host to illustrious scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald in addition to his other Ministerial duties that he had deferred this matter till later time. In truth he was still undecided about what to do about the letter (whom his agent had retrieved from the dead body of the doomed courier Disaidun Agripe otherwise known as Miss Jepipi), which had been the source of Lord Shouzi Yozdek’s blackmail for about two years by The Black Molochs.

Zaur could not help smiling, knowing how infuriated Egil Viggoaries must have been, when word reached him that the letter had been lost to him.  How many must have suffered consequently.

“Unfortunately, the plan had not gone as well as he’d anticipated; for Zunrogo Tugo was still alive and well… Hmm, the cur must have found out about the switch and kept it quiet. “

“Oh well you can’t win them all.”  Zaur shrugged.

“As for the letter…” Zaur shook his head. “It can wait.”  Unfortunately, at present he was too pressed for time to deal with this, when other more pressing matters (issues) and tasks demanded his attention first; and so, he quickly put it back in the top drawer and closed it.

Advancing with deliberate strides, he veered around the long, ornate desk until he reached a specific wall unit on the far wall.

 Holding up the oil lamp, he pulled out one specific scroll and placed it on the desk.  Then, putting his hand into the slot from which he had retrieved the document, he applied a firm pressure with his index finger to a groove in the lower left corner of the exposed wall.  Immediately the entire wall slid noiselessly aside to expose a hidden room behind.

Air tinged with musk rushed out at once to assail his nostrils as pitch darkness greeted his eyes.  Crinkling up his nose, Zaur shook his head.  He had not been in this room for some time and due to obvious neglect, everything was shrouded in an inch deep snow of dust that now whirled about, stirred by the air from the outer study.

“First thing tomorrow I must have Zyerne clean this place up.  This disorder is inexcusable.”

For now, the space was in immediate need of ventilation.  He looked around in the lamplight at the mass of volumes packed up all the walls until he spied on one small window high up next to the ceiling, hidden from the outside by a set of elaborate eaves.

 Striding over, he positioned a sturdy chair beneath the aperture and pried the shutter open just a crack, just enough to let in the fresh air he needed to relieve his lungs of this (ever-present) invasive constriction.  He winced as he reflected how this hidden room had been designed by the long dead original architect more like a vault of an elaborate tomb than a study.  Its purpose had been obvious but, incredibly, Rujune Iver’s demise had come too fast for him to have made use of its contents to his own advantage.  Fortunately for Zaur, these carefully catalogued documents, containing amassed evidence against the most prominent (noble, patrician) aristocratic families and the vast reserve of valuables and cash secreted in this room, had escaped detection by the court's investigators when the property had been confiscated (impounded) by the state.  With his analytical mind, keen sense, and deductive reasoning, Zaur Stugr had been the only one to, shortly after acquiring the property; discover this invaluable chamber's existence.

Stepping down, he walked back to the entrance.  From there he took the familiar measured paces, first straight ahead, then to the left, and then to the right then again left.

About five years ago, he had further discovered several vaults, each laden with cache (stockpiles, hoards) of gold, silver, and jewels, beneath the ingeniously designed, geometric marble- flooring. 

Depending on the combination of serious of consecutive (successive) steps and the pressure put on by one’s own weight, the specific squire floor tile would rise and then move aside to reveal an opening with the descending stairs leading to that specific vault’s contents. 

Right now, however, he was only after one of his own constructions.

Squatting, he placed the lamp off to one side, loosened the specific floor tile with his bare hands, lifted it and dug out a slightly tarnished metal box from its hiding place.  Meticulously, he brushed the dust from it then, with trembling hands, positioned his newly acquired bejeweled key over the keyhole on the box's side.

Suddenly his heart was seized with apprehension.  “What if this key's construction was merely a bizarre coincidence?  What if it did not match this box at all?” 

In the past he had attempted everything he could think of to open this unyielding encasement but without the least bit of success.  The unusual metal, the design and construction of the box had resisted any attempt at tampering with it. 

He exhaled, “Well, there's only one way to find out.”

With certain determination he placed the key into the hole, and, to his great elation, it turned, moving long unused tumblers inside the locking mechanism.  His heart pounded wildly.  At long last it was now within his means to uncover the secret long buried within! 

But then he hesitated, and his expression gradually hardened to mirror his troubled thoughts.

“What if now, after all this time…,” dejectedly he shook his head. 

“Anyhow, what good would it do?”  In his mind's eye he could see the accusing finger stubbornly pointed at him and at the same time a strong sense of foreboding gripped his heart.

“No!  Right or wrong, I could not have confided in Sanzo.  Not after the disclaimer.”

Eventually he picked up the lamp and, rising to his feet once more with the box in his other hand, walked over and sat down (sunk his body) on the plush sofa by the desk.  Absently he stared at the box for some time, affectionately caressing it, letting his fingers trace out the curved indentations which mimicked exactly the design of the key.  He noted how, in one corner they were scaled exactly to the size of the key. “Odd,” he mused, “it’s as if there's a purpose to it.”

 Struck by a sudden intuition, he took the key from the lock and placed it sideways on against the corner, noting how it fit snugly into the carved design.  Inside the box more tumblers moved.

“So, there was a disarming mechanism as well.”  Zaur Stugr was glad he had not rushed to open the obvious booby-trapped box.

A sad, aggrieved (wounded, pained, hurt) expression just then took hold of his features.

“It’s been so long, so very long!”

(END OF SECTION 9)