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

01- MOUNTED ZUNROGO TUGO  LEAVING THE INN BEHIND

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

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

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

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

02- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC) AS IMPERIAL GUARD  JP 11

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

04- TZAN JP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Any unforeseen problems," Zunrogo suddenly questioned Tizan.

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

                                                                                    ~

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

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

05-FRASTOS - JP 17

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

                                                                                   ~

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

06- BEAUTY SEDUCING  BRIAC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

07 - BEAUTIY (OR THE ASSASSIN)

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

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

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

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

 

(END OF SECTION 22)                                                                                                   ~

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 14

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 14

      After quenching his thirst with a cup of tea, Asger, resumed in somber tone, his recounting    of the past, historical events:

“As the invincible army commanded by  Grand Marshal Gustav Erling poised (encamped, waited) at the border, the newly arrived military Tribune,  crossed into our territory, and gaining an audience with my Lord father, read aloud the degree from the usurper Zakhertan Yozdek, a complete amnesty for my father, allowing him to retain his title, lands and forces as long as he declared fealty to the new regime and relinquished custody of the Prince and all the other royal members, including my mother and me, to them.  Word had already reached us by then, that the rest of the country had, without exception, been subjugated under Zakhertan  Yozdek's rule and that we, alone, stood in resistance.

“Father (Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon), spitting on the ground before the envoy, reviled the usurper Emperor Zakhertan  Yozdek to his face and, shaking his armored fist in the air, vowed to fight to the bitter end.  Behind him our army cheered loudly, and I could see the Tribune shiver in his boots.”

"Our subsequent struggle lasted half a year as the opposing sides clashed in several savage battles.  Greatly outnumbered, our forces were unfortunately at some point dislodged from Nanku Pass in an assault that also lost Gustav Erling three divisions; after a month, we were driven back to within the confines of the city walls.  There, at Chenko, we continued to fight unrelentingly, only too conscious of our restrictive circumstances.  Food and ordinance, to say nothing of manpower, were being dangerously depleted.  Then Grand Marshall Gustav Erling, having received reinforcements from the Capital, divided his army and laid a vigorous onslaught (offensive, blitz) on the city (Chenko) from all sides.”

Prince Shon

"During this final confrontation Prince Shon was mortally wounded by a sniper's poisoned arrow fired from the enemy ranks.  Later that afternoon, knowing that the end was near and that the situation was hopeless, His Highness called me to his side.  There I knelt beside his deathbed as the prince, his breathing violent and parched, asked me to take his only son, Nevetsecnuac, to safety so that he and I may one day return and avenge the deaths of the Royal family.  'We are beyond salvation', His Highness sobbed, 'but let hope flourish elsewhere so that the crimes of Zakhertan  Yozdek against our family and nation will not go unpunished!'  My heart aflame, I swore that day to make this vengeance happen.”

"That night I bid my farewells to my beloved family and, with sixty able bodied, loyal guards and you, Prince Nevetsecnuac, in my arms, went through the secret tunnel to the camp outside the walls.  Securing additional mounts from the adversary, we vaulted into the saddles and fought our way out of the encirclement to safety.  Each of us was hand-picked to be a match for a hundred of the enemy and they were powerless to stop us.  Our war bellows (cries, roars) rent-open the sky and struck terror into their hearts.”

“Five days after our escape, Chenko fell, and the defenders were slaughtered to a man.  The city was brutally destroyed, and the fires raged for two months until all was looted, burned or razed to dust.”

Except for one, my infant son Ivar Marrog Zhon, Stark fell silent, as stab of pain constricted his heart and soul anew, grieving silently as always, for his son’s ensuing fate.  It would have been better had he died, but no, Zakhertan  Yozdek’s barbarism, his ruthlessness knows no bounds.  None is safe from his malice, his spiteful vindictiveness, certainly not an innocent child. But this too, Asger kept to himself.  Then after inhaling a few puffs from his pipe, he continued (resumed) in an even tone, pushing aside this unbidden, unwelcome ache from his mind and heart.

"Grand Marshall Gustav Erling, leaving a major part of the army under the command of his able subordinate, Lir Yussaf, with instructions to effect the final obliteration of the Zhon family stronghold, marched southwards with eight regiments to join up with our pursuers.  After fighting several pitched battles with them, we succeeded in crossing the border.  By then our numbers had been reduced to thirty-eight, while the enemy, despite the heavy casualties we had inflicted on them, still numbered in the thousands.  The massive size of their force lost them the maneuverability they needed to pursue us through the narrow, treacherous mountain shortcuts.  Since there existed several such trails, some converging while others came to a dead end, and we’d laid false tracks on many to confuse the enemy, we were able to ambush and overcome with ease all the scouts sent to trail us.” 

“A subsequent two-day brilliant tactical feat won us a decisive victory over a key obstacle, a strategic pass guarded by none other than the notorious Garrison Commander Mulnar.  Armed now with fresh mounts and much needed supplies we proceeded (advanced) in due haste towards the Jerken River, a natural barrier that marked the border of the next province.  Unfortunately, the massive bridge which provided safe passage over the dangerous rapids at this juncture lay in ruins. Our circumstance was now dire (ominous), for in a few days’ time Gustav Erling's forces would be upon us, meanwhile, we were stranded without any means of crossing to the other side.  Even if we felled trees and worked diligently through the night to construct a raft, we still lacked the skill needed to master the fast-flowing waters and treacherous rocks of this high-country river.  The closest crossing to us lay near a major provincial town where we could expect staunch opposition. As we vacillated, considering our options, three seemingly harmless fishermen emerged from the rushes and offered to ferry us across.  When they learned just who we were, however, they abandoned their sinister plan of robbing us in mid-stream and, with full cooperation, delivered both our small force and the horses across the river to safety just as Gustav Erling reached the opposite bank, a full two days ahead of where we had expected him to be.  Fearless of Gustav Erling's repercussions, these braves, brigand fishermen remained in sight of his forces, taunting them from the opposite bank.  With earth-shaking fury Grand Marshall Gustav Erling cursed and beat his officers, rushing them to make repairs to the bridge.”

03-GRAND MARSHAL GUSTAV ERLING

"For the next five days our path skirted several hills, eventually leading us to higher, more precipitous ground where, taking refuge on a densely forested hilltop, we pitched camp and posted sentries.  The night sky was engulfed by heavy, burdened clouds that mantled the earth in darkness.  The blazing campfires below, however, allowed us to pinpoint the size and the position of our enemy, or so we thought.  During the night, while keeping more campfires lit than necessary, Gustav Erling, at the head of thirty-five crack contingents, had secretly rode off towards Kensu Pass to enlist the aid of that outpost's commander.”

"The following day's downpour, which started at dawn and lasted all day, hindered our advance but, unaware that we were galloping straight into the heart of danger, we relentlessly pushed on ahead, riding ceaselessly all day and resting only for a few hours at night.  We were aiming to widen the gap between us and our pursuers and reach Kensu Pass first.”

“When, finally, we neared it at dusk, I gave orders for the torches to be lit.  Ironically, after observing the surrounding topography, I had just finished commenting how, with only a few good men, this place could be set up as a prime ambush for Gustav Erling's army when, suddenly, the thunder of war drums filled the air around us and the sky was ignited into one gigantic sunburst by countless fire arrows showering down on our heads.  Hastily, I ordered the retreat, but it was already too late.  A battalion of infantry poured down from the slopes ahead and another group rushed up the gully from our right to block the way.  Rather than dividing our meager forces at this vulnerable spot, I ordered a charge to our left, where we could gain some high ground and mount a more effective resistance. “

“Just then however, another troop of cavalry charged forward from behind the knoll and blocked this avenue as well.  A mass of dancing torches in the south revealed the arrival of Gustav Erling's main force, eliminating any hope of withdrawal.  Completely hemmed in, our situation most grave, we stood our ground to fight.  Our forward line clashed, amid wild shouts, with theirs in a savage, bitter battle.  Our men ploughed fearlessly into the enemy ranks, wielding their weapons with lethal effect, they began to carve a way out through a wall of living men. Corpses piled high around us, littering the ground along which the blood flowed in rivers.  Yet, after an all-night pitched battle, we could still not break their thick encirclement.”

"Then at dawn, another downpour drenched us to the skin; the curtain (wall) of water was so dense that it obscured all vision.  Taking advantage of this, my remaining   men grouped around me in a protective phalanx and fought with magnificent valor to tear throughout the enemy's ranks.  Sowing confusion and bloody mayhem, they provided me and my two officers the means to get away, and then they closed ranks behind us to fight on, as if we were still with them."

Asger paused to puff on his pipe his urgent tears held back, as his heart in a knot (constricted), simply ached. Fighting images of his men's faces, shouting bravely as they died, pained his soul, casting his thoughts into a dark, bloody abyss. 

Nevetsecnuac, with vivid, haunting pictures of war parading before his mind's eye, shared with Asger the feelings of exhilaration and pain.  The urge for battle had fired up the warrior's blood now coursing through his veins and the fierce, bone-chilling cries of the battlefield filled his ears.

"Yes, only the four of us: you Nevetsecnuac, I, Zeru and Uffen were able to escape that pass.", Asger's voice startled Nevetsecnuac from his trance.  "Tracking along that bloody path, we pushed on up the mountain slope in that blinding, driving rain.  A voice shouted behind us, 'On pain of death, do not let Lord Asger escape!', and a volley of arrows assailed us from the rear.  Suddenly another unit of cavalry cut in from our side to block our way.  Zeru and Uffen wheeled their mounts in either direction as they urged me to get away.  With deep sadness in my heart, for I was constrained by my promise to the late Prince Shon, I checked my urge to remain with these brave men and fight to the bitter end.  Though my senses shouted out of impending danger, the possibility of yet another ambush up ahead, I had little choice but to ride in the only direction that remained open to me.”

“As I rounded the outcrop, a final contingent, led by Marshal Gustav Erling himself, surged out of hiding to obstruct my way.”

“‘And where do you think you're going?’ Marshall Gustav Erling mocked.  ‘Surrender the child at once and I may be lenient.  If not, prepare to die a horrible death!’ he snarled at me.  I roared back in defiance, cursing him and his ancestors to rot in Hell then dared him to face me alone in a single combat.  I remember the monstrous laugh he responded with, and his words, 'Look how the lamb dares to fight the lion!  Death is staring you in the face, and you don't even know it!'  Charging towards me on his steed in a blind fury, he ordered his men to stay put.  They stayed behind dutifully, fidgeting on their mounts, aching to follow him in for the kill.”

"I barely had time to secure you to my back and spur my mount before our weapons clashed.  We fought at least thirty rounds, with neither of us able to best the other.  His fame was well earned, for he was truly a most competent foe, unequaled in martial skill.  This, coupled with his superb cunning   in tactical warfare made him virtually invincible.  Despite all my best efforts, I could barely keep him at bay.  In truth, I felt myself beginning   to falter, but my concern over the infant Prince, you, fueled my resolve and would not allow me to fail.  Perhaps it was out of respect for my own skill that Marshall Gustav Erling then began to sway me with words towards surrendering.  At the climax of the fighting, I feigned weakness.  Expecting me to yield or beg for mercy, Gustav Erling relaxed his vigil for a second.  Instead, I wheeled my horse around and charged at full gallop through the cordon of men around us at their weakest point.”

"To this day I don't know whether or not this was purposefully done by Gustav Erling, for the trail I was forced to ride led nowhere.  At one point I was forced by the narrowness of the path to abandon my horse and ascend on foot to the summit, you in my arms, followed by a snaking trail of foes, headed by Grand Marshall Gustav Erling, his double swords flashing like fangs in the serpent's mouth.  This was the final trap he had set for me, on this high mountain at the corner of three provinces.  Arrows whistled past me from behind.  By grace of Heaven and darkness I escaped their aim with but a slightly grazed shoulder and cheek.”

"Fighting still, and dodging arrows, when I reached the summit, it was dawn once more and the provinces below were bathed in light.  During the continuous close combat with Marshall, when one such arrow, missing me, found its mark in Marshall Gustav Erling’s left arm, from then on at least, the elite marksmen did not dare discharge any more arrows, and abandoned entirely any subsequent notion of using poisoned ones. There I combated Gustav Erling until I lost my arm.  Unable to fight and hold on to the child, I was caught in a bind.  It was there and then that I resolved to hurl both myself and you over the sheer cliff rather than let you be taken alive.  With you still clutched to my chest, after countless minutes of airborne flight with arrows whizzing by after us, we landed in the frigid waters of the river and were finally able to get away."

"How fortunate that you escaped that calamity,” Nevetsecnuac exclaimed in amazement.

"Fortune had nothing to do with it!  It was due to the sacrifice of those sixty valiant men and later still, Lord Shonne Gulbrand's invaluable aid that we were able to get away to safety.”

“If not for all that", Asger shook his head, "I shudder to think of the fate that would have befallen you, my Prince."

“Do you know what became of the Marshall?” Nevetsecnuac asked.

Asger simply nodded. Long after the rescue, mindful of Zakhertan  Yozdek's intolerance of failure, Asger had made an atypical inquiry from his trusted contacts regarding the final disposition of Marshall Gustav  Erling.

“Over the years I came to know of a certain, unconfirmed report, and again I emphasize the fact that it may only be hearsay at best.” Asger stressed, before continuing, “That Gustav Erling returned to the capital bearing the heads of Prince Shon and my father Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon along with their families, and reported as well, his failure to capture Prince Nevetsecnuac and myself. Despite this partial victory, he was nevertheless accused of incompetence and both he and his family were sentenced (condemned) to death. Then again,” Asger pondered out loud. “I doubt this account was entirely true, for it had been long rumored that the beautiful wife of Marshal Gustav Erling, Lady Lingrace, had an unusual attraction for Zakhertan  Yozdek and the two had supposedly an illicit...  Ah, but that's another matter."

Asger abruptly ended it, with a cold bemused smile.

 

Just then the cock's crow announced the arrival of the new day. As Teuquob woke up also at sunrise, she was asked to forgo the chores for the time being and be seated. She was then introduced to her husband in his identity as Prince Nevetsecnuac Therran Valamir and similarly was asked to succinctly divulge her long kept secret about her own Royal heritage and the true facts that precipitated her escape from the Palace and then Kontu. Then, over hot a breakfast, Teuquob was enlightened in a summary of the previous night's exchange, the relevant historical events of Wenjenkun and the key circumstances that had (led) forced Asger and Nevetsecnuac to this mountain sanctuary.

 

(END OF SECTION 14)

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 3

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 3

Brandt   had never seen Duan use archery, yet in subsequent days, he’d witnessed the other using spare material to painstakingly fashion himself a mighty fine bow and a quiver of arrows. 

Brandt ’s curiosity and poised questions were finally answered when at dusk one day, Duan, still seated at his mount took aim at the sky and let loose the single arrow.  Brandt   could not even see the target or what it slew (shot, slain, felled). 

“So, he also excels in archery...Hmmm” Brandt   made a mental note of this and spurred his horse to catch up with Duan’s. 

Arriving at the spot tad later, Brandt   saw Duan pick up the felled falcon and retract a piece of note attached to his leg. No amount of pestering loosened Duan’s tongue however, nor did he let Brandt   see the note. He only smirked satisfactorily and informed Brandt   a short time later of the slight change in their direction.

Passing through a grueling and treacherous stretch, now at more level ground, Brandt   likewise whipped his horse into a full gallop.  The result of three full days and nights of riding at lightning   speed eventually brought them to a crossroads.

 Duan stretched his neck this way and that, holding his gaze in each direction at length and then charged resolutely westward. As Brandt   followed in silence, he queried how Duan had arrived at (attained) that conclusion with such obvious certainty.  He racked his brains to comprehend the existing clues or logic that had so mysteriously averted him.  Having reached the end of his patience with Duan's arrogance however, he cared not to place himself in the position of subservience and voiced no such inquiry.  But, once more an insidious smile related Duan’s surmised notion of what was weighing on Brandt’s mind.

 Subsequent days their path cut across still more difficult terrain; before long the deep canyon, the surrounding topography had taken on a rather sinister turn. At one point, as they passed through a particularly deep gorge, Duan’s unexpectedly alert demeanor alarmed Brandt. 

Duan now strung tighter than a bow, with his very being exuding such an air of foreboding, his intense gaze perpetually swept the looming cliffs.  Brandt’s inward queries were promptly answered however, when on several instances on Duan’s signal and nimble action, man and mount barely escaped that certain catastrophe of being buried alive, when massive amounts of dislodged rocks suddenly cascaded down on them. 

Long after, when they seemingly reached a safer passage, Duan had kept up with his vigil and pressed them hard to advance with that speed to cover still great distance.

“This isn’t your typical joyride.” He’d scoffed at Brandt’s silent protests and despite Brandt’s obvious exhaustion, refused least notion of pitching camp.  On this continuous trek they, while still in the saddle ingested some of their rather unpalatable, scant dried rations and rarely out of consideration for their mounts, had a brief repose in a crevice of sorts in this desolate (bleak) region where nothing stirred, with Duan upholding his vigilance against that phantom enemy’s assault.

Brandt   was becoming more incensed (exasperated) with each leg of the journey suspecting Duan with his spiteful nature to be conceiving (inventing) this unwarranted trouble, to further torment him, when suddenly they were under attack. 

Once the unnatural dust storm settled, all at once they’d found themselves surrounded by thirty well-armed, formidable riders completely covered in black garb, with only slits that made their eyes visible.  Brandt   had scant time to unsheathe his sword when the awesome, agile force spontaneously and in all directions, in a brilliant, lightening   maneuver, launched their murderous offensives (assault). 

Brandt   had always been quite adept at fighting but in this instance, he’d soon found himself outmatched in both skill and ability. Or had he?  For reasons known only to him, Brandt   held back and allowed Duan to demonstrate the true extent of his prowess. 

Rising to this challenge Duan with his invincible skill, quickly turned the tide in his favor. In a blinking of an eye, all assailants were vanquished, and men and mounts lay dead maimed and torn in bloody heaps.

The fortnight’s subsequent nocturnal assaults were even more lethal. Just as swiftly however, Duan bested them all; then in small hours, gathering the wounded and piling those atop the heap of torn, bloody corpses, he set them all alight. Making himself comfortable on a large flat bolder, he then watched this funeral pyre with intense perverse delight, occasionally letting out a boisterous laugh as if entertaining a private joke.

The rising smell made Brandt   retch and vomit till he was expanded from the exertion; maddeningly, this too compounded Duan’s wicked fun.

After the fourth and fifth major, deadly skirmishes, Brandt   had gained the sudden intense fear of Duan, as if just grasping the true measure of this Demon warrior’s proficiency.  Especially since all their previous adventures and exchanges had paled in comparison to these feats.  Despite his sham indifference however, the swift, shocking intensity and the near misses of the final mortal combat unequivocally rattled Brandt   to the core. Consequently, Duan was more intolerable, as he relentlessly mocked Brandt   with his contemptuous words, looks and gestures, till eventually he got tired of it. 

A few weeks later, another falcon was felled by Duan, then another sometime after that. In each instance a note was retrieved from the leg of the predatory bird, and again, Duan refused to disclose the contents to Brandt.  Infuriatingly still, any hope of a peek (stealing a look) was promptly eliminated when Duan routinely fed the contents to the hungry flames of the night’s makeshift campfire.

Then one evening   as they were about to fall asleep, “You can rest easy now; I doubt there’ll be any more messages.”  With his back to Brandt, he’d grumbled his sardonic, curt response to other’s evermore persistent inward queries.

In the subsequent month, the ongoing arduous trek had eventually led the two to another set of foothills beyond which lay a range of white capped mountains.  Descending then ascending the endless precipitous peaks and depths, they skirted ravines, gullies or cliffs, then negotiated inclines to eventually arrive at the remotest, darkest and most sinister of forests where ancient trees entirely blocked out the sky turning   night into day.

 In this twilight atmosphere they followed paths that no man before them had dared to tread.  All the while the immeasurable peril dogged their every step. Dangers abound from above and below, ahead and beyond, their mettle was tested, at times without cessation for weeks on end.  With their innate competence and stubborn resolve, they overcame each one of these hair-raising episodes and dealt effectively with the other peril from voracious, predatory beasts.

Occasionally their advance would be hindered by violent storms that erupted quite suddenly yet lasted for days.  During such times they attained shelter in nearby caves, crevices or caverns after contesting for space with the prior occupants (original inhabitants).

As they climbed (ascended) to still higher altitudes, with each leg of the journey the atmospheric temperatures became more hazardous.  With the overhead sky perpetually riddled with dark, ominous clouds that hung ponderously overhead, they trod uneasily over the precarious ground that oftentimes would be littered with intermittent pits blanketed with patches of ice or snow of varying degrees smoothing over the imperfections.

 All was not doom and gloom however, and on scant clear days, with the surrounding area and tall trees cloaked in exhilarating, blinding white, it admittedly transformed the glistening   environs into a mythological, fabled place of great beauty. The brilliance of light was so intense in fact that they advanced through this fabulous ice hinterland with only partially covered eyes, seeing only through slits.

The makeshift attire from pelts obtained from the hunted predatory beasts kept the core of their body warm. Meanwhile, (in addition to melted ice,) they drunk the blood of the game for satiating (quenching) thirst, and for sustenance, never lacking for food, Brandt   in time even grew accustomed to chomping on raw meat, or for variety, nibbled on some of the amassed, dried roots. When hiking over a particularly perilous icy terrain, man and beast (steeds) wore underfoot an ingenious contraption that Duan had appropriately devised to prevent slipping and sliding or worse, falling through the cracks/ pits in the snow and being buried alive.  Moreover, to ensure further stability, they made good use of ropes and iron pegs when their ascending path led them to tapered goat-trails hugging the sheer inclines. 

To Duan’s surprise, Brandt   had born all these hardships stoically, except for altitude sickness that is, that oftentimes plagued Brandt   when crossing a precarious, natural viaduct (overpass) over gargantuan (vast) debts or other such risky terrain with equally dizzying gradient (incline) to one side. 

On such instances Brandt   would have gladly traded places with their blindfolded mounts, to be spared the apprehension and the dire imaginings; especially since his discomfort without fail was augmented by Duan’s derisive, contemptuous remarks or his silent cold regard. 

Day after day, as though pulled by a magnet, they pushed (trudged) on relentlessly and unfailingly at top speed, superseding (overriding) countless dangers and hardships, Brandt   doing his best to keep up with Duan. 

Though they’d done what was humanly impossible and covered such a great distance in that short time, far from being pleased, at one point Duan had appeared in fact, quite irritable and somewhat dismayed.  Then one day, leaving Brandt   at a makeshift camp in an abandoned cave, Duan without so much as a word had set off alone on foot in search of a phantom path. He must have ventured far, for he’d remained hidden from sight (view) awfully long period.

 Brandt   left to fend for himself, first had prudently solidified his defenses, kept the fires going and guarded the steeds and their reserves best as he could, from the marauding, (prowling) ravenous beasts. By the fourth or fifth day, however, Brandt   had begun to get seriously peeved, for having been treated same as a groom when, late one afternoon, Duan quite unexpectedly had reappeared.  Without so much as a grunt, he plumped himself by the fire, partook of some of the skewered meat, then reclining   passed out in sound sleep. When at just before dawn he promptly awoke, he spared no effort to explain; only his words tersely directed Brandt   to follow him.

Even before the first rays of light reached the earth, Duan and Brandt   taking the lead, steered their reluctant mounts further into the densest part of the pine forest.  Previous night’s storm (blizzard) had dumped abundant snow in the vicinity forcing them to now advance with immense difficulty through the copiously covered ground and shrubbery.

They rode whenever possible, but oftentimes dismounting, they dug their way through waist deep rough patches. Their several days’ laborious advance eventually came to an abrupt halt one afternoon just before dusk, when they suddenly faced, what seemed to Brandt, a rising cliff. He watched with skepticism as Duan, veering around a huge boulder quickly alighted. A pointed look quickly brought Brandt   to his side. Stalwart duo exerting some effort in next to no time cleared a fallen tree and similar debris, pushed aside tall, seemingly impenetrable ice capped dense shrubbery to uncover an inconceivable niche that turned out to be an entrance to a pitch-dark subterranean tunnel that passed through to the other side of the mountain.

Brandt’s elation was short lived however, for the upcoming perilous journey was far more harrowing than the culminating previous encounters.  Right at the beginning   Duan had counseled him on the necessity of maintaining absolute silence.

The horses’ eyes covered, and mouths muzzled, with Duan in the lead they’d steadfastly advanced in darkness, connected by a rope, Duan periodically (now and again) slashing the air with his blade to dispatch the persistent dangers. 

They must have trudged incessantly for days in that grueling, subterranean labyrinth, for every tendon, every fabric of Brandt’s body throbbed with an unbearable ache.  After what it seemed to Brandt an eternity, they’d eventually emerged from this nightmarish tunnel.  Brandt   was so overjoyed at having survived this terrible ordeal that, braving Duan’s derision, he’d simply throw himself onto the ground and hugged it.

The rest of the journey, though still grueling, by comparison had passed far easier.

 

                                                                      ~

 

(END OF SECTION 3)