12- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE PORTENDED PERIL - SECTION 5

Last two or three days, Nevetsecnuac’s emotional and mental dilemma had intensified to a crescendo (climaxed), particularly as the day of summons had drawn near; fortunately for him, unspecified official concerns had kept his keenly observant and solicitous host Zaur Stugr far too busy, allowing Nevetsecnuac hence, bit respite from the tiresome, social obligations.

01- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC ) 17)JP

Recalling just then the special unopened package, a keepsake tribute gift from the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s offices, (a traditional/ceremonial court attire) delivered last night, Nevetsecnuac as a means of distracting his mind, summoned the Steward Cholden and asked him to bring it forth. If his conjecture were on the mark (spot on), he would then be obliged to, for propriety’s sake, don this array (garb) the day after tomorrow.

As anticipated, the (part armour) elaborate apparel fit Nevetsecnuac perfectly. Upon trying on the cape (cloak) though, he found out that it needed just one slight (minor) adjustment, to make the fit precise. This (alteration) he did it himself without (ado) moment’s hesitation; however, as he was adjusting one of the facets (module) of the cuff clasp as it was set too tight and had to be loosened a notch, unavoidably an invisible prong (spike) just then pricked his wrist and drew miniscule amount of blood. It was such an insignificant drop that neither he nor anyone else paid any heed (attention) to it.

Once Nevetsecnuac was donned in this magnificent and exquisitely constructed (labor intensive) finery that was a work of art, his impressive form caused all his attendants to gasp in awe. They gazed at him admiringly, their mouths agape, and with a glint of envy in their eyes.

Nevetsecnuac was far from pleased or flattered by this magnificent gift; however, mindful of the ravaging, rampant poverty, and the savage oppression of the citizens of Wenjenkun; he was dismayed to, even for a short span (spell), become a party to this decadent sort of extravagance.

02- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC)  DONS THE GIFT GARMENT JP 8

Nevertheless, after studying his resplendent form in the full-length brass mirror with unreadable (masked) expression (on his face), with a huff of derision, as this was in keeping with his scholar’s persona, Nevetsecnuac signaled for steward Cholden to help him get it off (undress). This done, the garment was quickly and lightly brushed, reverently and neatly folded, and then swiftly taken away to be stored, until future use.

That afternoon shortly after lunch, feeling more stifled by the soft, plush surroundings and the ever-vigilant beehive (whirlwind) of activity of the attendants trying to anticipate his every wish or whim, Nevetsecnuac strove to get away from it all, to release the pent-up energy coursing in his veins. But despite his ardent desire to leave the complex entirely, he did not venture far, not wishing to compound Steward Cholden’s burdens. As it were, before the assiduous (diligent) and affable Minister, Zaur Stugr had taken his leave earlier on at dawn, he had informed Nevetsecnuac that on his return at dusk, he had wished to acquaint him (Fradel Rurik Korvald) with a special, distinguished friend of his, who had been away. It was to be a token of Zaur’s appreciation of Fradel Rurik Korvald’s rare talents, his most esteemed, illustrious guest.

“It will be quite rare and most memorable treat.” Zaur, turning his head and smiling enigmatically had then reasserted, just before he had stepped inside his carriage.

Nevetsecnuac presently brushing all thought aside, leisurely or at times briskly, strolled through the complex structure of the joint gardens; after an hour this too however, had proven less than satisfactory. Moreover, he suspected that he was flushed in face and despite the fresh air, felt unusually stifled (strangulated, asphyxiated, short of breath) with the heavy, constrictive (oppressive) sensation increasingly taking hold in his chest cavity. Thinking that his discomfort was from the derivative of the intense heat from the burning rays of the cloudless mid-day sun, still permeating despite the tall, dense foliage and numerous ponds and waterfalls dotting the gardens, Nevetsecnuac opted to take a brief refuge in the library, which was a vast complex that included in it a perfectly harmonious private study. More importantly, the massive set of buildings that were nestled in the Northern sector of the complex, were structurally designed, and partially submerged in ground, to always remain temperate all year round.

Once there, Nevetsecnuac quickly dismissed the guards and all the servants to the outer chamber (hallway) anteroom, resolved as he was to indulge his weary (fatigued) senses the gratifying respite and delightful quietude up until his host had returned and he was, unavoidably cast once more into the tumultuous, murky world of the upper crust (high society). Longing now more than ever to reaffirm his old beliefs, he sought out and summarily retrieved a three-volume compiled literary works, which had often in the past been referred to by his uncle and mentor, Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon. Thence, in the bosom of the towering shelves stacked with rare and expensive volumes, seated comfortably in a plush chair, Nevetsecnuac excluded the present world from his (conscious) mind and strove to absorb himself in the wondrous, heroic times of old, at the same time encompassing the eternal teachings and anecdotes of the ancients. Surely enough, these rare compilations before long exuded such power that they cast their spell on him, and he felt strangely enough placated in his heart, mind, and soul.

                                                                                                                ~ 

03-  ZAUR STUGR JP (5)JP

                                                                                

Zaur Stugr having finally efficiently dealt with all the pressing pertinent matters on the day’s agenda, sought and gained permission from the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren to return to his residence early, to tend to his guest. He was eager to leave office for, since morning he had felt in the crux of his being a certain premonition, a foreboding, and a trepidation of sorts, that something unforeseen and perilous would (might) happen before the day’s end; even though, in view of the high stakes, he had already taken every precaution and left nothing to chance. Before leaving at dawn for his offices he had even cautioned (warned) his staff, especially his steward Cholden and the bodyguards that had been assigned to Fradel Rurik Korvald for the duration of his stay at Zaur’s residence, to be extra vigilant this day; hence, there really was no reason, no foundation for his anxiety. Hadn’t things gone without a hitch thus far? Tomorrow’s appointment with Ronterron Zuke should pass without trouble as well. Then, why was he being so edgy? The day after the summons (scholar’s audience with Sovereign), Fradel Rurik Korvald’s welfare no longer a priority concern, things should revert to normal at home.

Zaur inwardly therefore huffed (snorted), admonishing self for being too overcautious, as he entered his carriage and headed straight for home. Never an idle moment, he picked up but then put aside the document that he had taken along with him to later examine (peruse) in closer scrutiny; then pulling aside the curtain, he peered at the outside to steady his nerves and through distraction (diversion), curtail this persistent sense of disquiet that had beleaguered him even now. Since it failed to work, Zaur sat back and directed his attention instead on scholar Fradel’s most recent enigmatic conduct; this brought (dawned) a temporary pleasant smile to his lips. Subsequently however, his brows knit reflecting on, how the compiled report (dossier) on the scholar Fradel up until then had been entirely unsatisfactory. These last few days’ extra effort and intense probing had also proven fruitless; nevertheless, Zaur had the sense that he had, but barely, scratched the surface and that Fradel Rurik Korvald was by far, the most intriguing and complex individual than he led on. Meanwhile, having taken a strong liking to Fradel, Zaur knew that he would at future time, (on his own initiative,) on pretext, secure a much lengthier visit with the Illustrious Scholar, to thoroughly enjoy his company; and seizing the right opportunity then, when Fradel being on his own turf therefore more open and laidback, penetrate the Scholar’s enigmatic mantle, to accurately (discover) pinpoint the hidden layers of Fradel’s innate nature. Zaur again (through the slit,) absently watching the crowds pass by, pondered on this plan a while longer.

04- COWDS IN CHANNING

Normally Zaur did not like to have any unresolved issues left lingering (hanging) about; everything had to be with precision, quickly and neatly wrapped up (perfectly ratified). As patience had never been one of his virtues, his heightened curiosity had even prompted him to consider taking a drastic action; but then on afterthought, he had relented and aborted this course. Currently, Zaur looking away, shook his head. He would refrain from taking any drastic action; not unless Fradel Rurik Korvald could be recruited. There was really no point in pursuing this matter any further; besides which, he had scarcely any time for it. The present political uncertainty and his busy schedule left little leeway for such indulgences. Letting go wishful thoughts therefore, Zaur shrugged. This day was ending and, fortunately, nothing unforeseen had happened thus far or he would have been informed of it. The night’s planned merriment should pass quickly also without undue incident. Thankfully, the fiendish eunuch Egil Viggoaries had already departed the Capital on a mysterious errand. Taking succinct (brief) mental stock of two major future vengeful ploys that had already been instigated, Zaur Stugr’s mouth formed into a snarl and then, with a lightened heart and a complacent grin he again eased his back into the plush cushions of his carriage that, in part, buffeted the bumpy ride.

Before long, having arrived at his mansion Zaur, armed with the rare gift he had commissioned a while back, alighted from his carriage and with sure footing entered the guest quarters. Steward Cholden, greeting his master Zaur Stugr and being handed the gift to carry could not conceal (hide) his surprise. Noting this, “What is it?” eagle-eyed Zaur impatiently (irritably) in his sonorous voice demanded, as he was headed straight to the library, being informed that that’s where Fradel Rurik Korvald was at presently.

“I beg your pardon, sir, and please don’t think me too presumptuous, when I say that you are being overly generous.”  Cholden, who had been in Zaur’s service for an exceptionally long time, unable to conceal the tone of jealousy (envy) in his voice, answered with a bow. He was about to add more when Zaur, sensing (alerted) something was gravely wrong, abruptly halted his stride, turned and, cutting Cholden off with a sharp gesture of his hand, barked, “What on earth (nonsense) are you babbling about?”  Before the head steward that was taken back could recollect himself enough to give any response, Zaur had spun around and hastened on ahead.

05- FRIGHTENED STUART WHO ALMOST HAS A RUN IN WITH ZAUR

Zaur Stugr in his haste, almost has a near run-in with the panic-stricken young Stuart Tolen, who had just a moment’s before confronted the dreaded scene and, ashen faced, had rushed straight outside to seek help from the guards. Earlier, shocked to the core, he had dropped the tray he had been carrying, the contents, strewn all over, irreparably damaging the rare antique carpet where which collapsed, unconscious figure of Fradel Rurik Korvald lay.

Zaur Stugr entering the room, took in these details immediately but as (since) there was little time for reprimand or reprisal, acting on impulse, on his (Zaur’s) brusque orders, Fradel Rurik Korvald’s comatose body was at once hastily carried over to his room and he was gingerly placed (laid) atop of his bed. Since the resident physician had been sent for already, Zaur Stugr to the best of his ability tried to revive Fradel Rurik Korvald. On his directive cold (compasses) compacts were made available and repeatedly applied to the scholar’s forehead, neck and face as his garments, the restrictive parts were (simultaneously) loosened in a desperate attempt to stabilize Fradel Rurik Korvald’s steadily climbing temperature (alarming fever).

The responding physician Quinher Yungar was a conscientious man (man of rectitude) in his early thirties, with high scruples. In fact, his trustworthiness was beyond reproach. Though he had a brilliant mind, his slight speech impediment had stood in the way of his career advancement.

06- 7 -PHYSICIAN QUINHER YUNGAR JP (56)

Widowed at an early age, he had refused to remarry and lived a secluded, frugal existence in a remote corner of the Empire. Here he had devoted his energies to the study of medicine and to resolving the most difficult and incurable ailments. He had been plucked out of an anonymity (obscurity) by Zaur Stugr, when Zaur happened to be the District Magistrate to that remote town of Quekon in the Monetex Prefecture of Nokoltun Province and rescued him out of dire crisis. Out of gratitude Qinher had from then on faithfully served Zaur Stugr to repay his kindness.

It so happened that while seeking a rare herb on the slopes of Trodor mountain, Quinher had come across a dastardly assault. A powerful local bully, having abducted an honorable family’s beautiful, youngest (only) daughter, meant to ruin her, and force her to be his lover. Responding to her desperate plea (cries) for help Quinher, without a moment’s hesitation for his own safety, had rushed at once to intervene and after a brief struggle with the (brute, charlatan) ruffian Donzi Podai, managed to scare him off. He then promptly delivered her to the safety of her family.

On his return to his humble abode, however, he was met by the local (Yemen) constables and arrested. Summarily brought before the district judge he was charged with the (concocted) crimes of, abducting the very girl he had saved and, for assaulting the intervening gentleman Donzi Podai, who had striven to rescue her from a fate worse than death. Her family, under duress and (likely,) a recipient of a hefty monetary bribe, had been coerced into pressing these false charges.

Quinher, without the benefit of a just trial, indicted, in three days hence, had faced an ignoble public execution. Fortunately, however, Zaur Stugr’s timely posting to the position of District Magistrate, thwarted (foiled) this grave injustice. Reviewing the case and noting obvious irregularities in the report, Zaur Stugr stayed the execution, re-opened the case and retried Quinher Yungar. In the subsequent weeks, no amount of pressure from his superiors, covert threats, or bribes, had deterred Zaur from his just cause. In the end he had uncovered the truth and punished the guilty; but not without repercussions to self (Zaur), as the powerful Podai family had influential allies in the core political ambit (domain, sphere) in Channing. Despite his exemplary record and the subtly exerted influence of the Brotherhood of Kozurs, Zaur’s impending promotion was postponed for a year, and then two years; afterwards, as further reprisal, he was exiled to the most troublesome corner of the Wenjenkun Kingdom.

Zaur nevertheless sufficed the key challenges (naturally with the covert assistance of the Kozurs), and furthermore, brought lasting order to that region. Meanwhile Quinher, despite his acquittal (exoneration), was forced to flee to avoid trouble and to escape (survive) the underhanded persecution of the powerful Podai family’s ardent supporters. After his seven years in oblivion, never forgetting Zaur’s kindness, Quinher Yungar had eventually met up with Zaur Stugr in Channing, and offered his services to him. He had been with Zaur ever since, functioning and living in relative ease under his protective wing.

Even though Quinher Yungar had never met the full criteria for becoming a Kozur, Zaur had the utmost regard for him and had always treated him with the respect (reverence) due to an honored Uncle, rather than an employee. Subsisting in the intolerant atmosphere of the Capital, for his own safety, Qinher had been indefinitely, sequestered indoors; since then, he had lived a quite existence, in the private complex within Zaur’s mansion, functioning as the, always on call, resident physician.

Now tending to Fradel Rurik Korvald, after his brief examination and diagnosis, then a painstakingly long treatment, he eventually emerged from the room with a haggard looking Zaur Stugr in tow. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned to give Zaur a reassuring smile and a nod, “Your s…s…swift response may have s…saved his life. We t…t…treated him j…j…just in t…time. It was m…most f…fortunate t…t…that I had p…procured t…the rare antidote from t…that monk. Never had I t…thought at t…the t…t…time…”  Seeing Zaur’s impatience (tiredness), he aborted the intriguing tale of his encounter with the (strange red-haired) monk and reaffirmed (re-asserted), “We have done all we can f…for n…now. The p…proper dose has b…been administered, it will be up to him and d…divine providence, to p…pull through.”  He hissed out a long breath, and, in utter exhaustion, he plummeted into a chair.

“A moment longer would have been too late.,” he mumbled to himself, nodding then, noting Zaur’s grim, angered expression, Quinher smiled disarmingly and offered few encouraging words, “P…please d…do not worry yours…self s…so much. He looks t…to have an excellent p…physique, remarkably so, for an l…literati. If I d…did not k…know b…better…”

“Are you sure there is nothing further we can do to expedite his recovery?” Zaur asked impatiently then turned his hard, irate gaze on the steward, his faced, suffused with wrath.

“N…no, n…nothing. N…now you b…best t…tend t…to your inquiries, sir, I k…know you are m…most anxious to f…find out who is r…responsible.”  Quinher’s response temporarily drew Zaur’s attention away from the steward, allowing Cholden to make him-self scarce (sneak away).

“I will k…keep a c…close eye on F… Fradel R … Korvald f…for you; do not worry. I will inform you the m…minute there is a c…change, or on t…the p…positive note, s…should he regain c…consciousness. Of course…” Quinher hesitated, not knowing how to break the news to Zaur Stugr.

 

 

(END OF SECTION 5) 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 35

 

The cloaked figure had appeared before him out of nowhere, Lance Diostin sizing up this unmistakably, imposing warrior brandishing his sword, threw his head back and laughed venomously.  "And who are you supposed to be, dressed up as ‘The Avenging Ghost?’  Why this absurd, masquerade?"

"You are more accurate in your description than you imagine, sir; but it could not be helped." The cloaked figure laughed back and shrugged then assumed a more serious demeanor.

 "I have no quarrel with you personally, fact is, captain Zunrogo has not outlived his usefulness; so be warned, I can be your benefactor or your nemesis, depending on your choice.  All I ask is that you forego your intention to end his life, and then perhaps, I can be persuaded to spare your life."

"How magnanimous of you…  How fortunate for me that you are considering sparing me.  Look, I'm trembling in fear." Lance Diostin responded with a sneer.

01-LANCE DIOSTIN JP 13

"Spare my life indeed!  A mortal is not yet born who can defeat me.  Tell His Lordship to go to blazes!"  He launched into a murderous assault, bringing his full fighting skill against the cloaked figure.

"His Lordship?" the figure parried Lance Diostin’s thrusts with ease.

"Don't play dumb with me!"  Infuriated, Lance Diostin fought with the fierceness of a tiger and the swiftness of a whirlwind, leaving no room for any further discussion or opportunity for truce.

This time, however, it was Lance Diostin who was clearly outmatched.  The ensuing pitched exchange was brief.  Too late, the invincibility of the cloaked figure was revealed to him but by then, in the blink of an eye, Lance Diostin found himself on the receiving end of a magnificent, powerful strike which left him unarmed, with his magnificent sword cast aside, shockingly almost insensate (unconscious, numbed, almost paralyzed) and near mortally wounded, at (inches from) the other's feet.  A dry, death rattle in his throat, still defiant, he demanded to know the identity of this worthy opponent who had bested him.  The figure, however, simply shook his head, and said: “Truth will be disclosed, when we face each other next. You are a great warrior with invincible prowess; therefore, I’m averse to the idea of heedlessly (recklessly, rashly) terminating your life.” He nodded, “first, however, I must have your word that you will, forsaking your aim, leave your sword behind and swiftly depart (flee). I have no doubt you equally excel in swimming and therefore, will reach the shore in safety, despite your (injures) wounds?”

Lance Diostin was intrigued with his opponent’s magnanimous gesture; besides which, a chance to again duel with this invincible foe was an enticement enough to convince him to at present capitulate, so reluctantly he nodded his head, acceding (ascending, agreeing) to the cloaked figure’s terms (stipulations, conditions).

“But how will I know it’s you, when I encounter you in the future?” He then, as if in afterthought, asked. The cloaked figure after a pensive thought, nodded, “Very well I will reveal my identity to you, if you wow (swear) to keeping it a secret from everyone, till then.”

Lance Diostin, who was famed for his honorable character (unblemished reputation), readily concurred and gave his solemn promise; however, nothing had prepared him for the shocking revelation he was about to witness next. He was absolutely aghast and his eyes wide with disbelief continued to stare at his opponent’s face that had been only briefly revealed to him. Lance Diostin, despite the intense pain, pulled himself upright as he chuckled and then, turning to face this remarkable being, shook his head. “Oh, you are good. You had me, had all of us, so completely duped!”

“Considering your impaired physical state, are you certain you can safely reach the shore?” The cloaked figure, disregarding this, impatiently asked and, having received another nod, and lance’s words, “I wouldn’t miss, not for anything, our next encounter.” Stepped aside to allow Lance Diostin to walk past him.  The cloaked figure’s eyes impassively (cooly) then followed Lance, who despite his grave injuries, with remarkable resilience, swiftly advanced to the edge of the deck.

Lance Diostin half turned his head, his gaze unreadable, to simply say, “Capital Channing is the domain (sphere) of ultimate (supreme) jeopardy (hazard, risk, peril) keep that in mind and stay safe; I bid you farewell, till our next encounter (combat, contest).”

02- LANCE DIOSTIN JP 18

Then nimbly, with a fluid grace dove off the edge, to quickly be engulfed (plunged, rushed) by the choppy waters of the river.

The cloaked figure lingered at the spot for a moment or two then pensively nodded his head, and turning away, precipitously advanced his steps down the stairs, to below deck; as he rushed down the corridor towards his cabin, he came face to face with another cloaked figure brandishing a bloody sword.

“Who the hell are you?” Bellowed the other masked, formidable opponent but then not waiting for an answer, he launched his murderous attack.

“No matter, you must die!”

 He was in fact the covert affiliate of a secret Brotherhood; known as Kaelan, who’d been all this time posing as one of the ordinary crewmen, called Zack, on board this vessel, going about undetected. One of the best agents of Kozurs, working as a double spy, had as well, carried orders from Lance Diostin to undermine Zunrogo’s plans.

Kaelan’s blade was dripping with blood as he’d just fought his way against the barricade, butchering countless to advance towards his objective. He had attacked Disaidun Agripe, dealt her a near mortal blow then reaching beneath her bodice (the upper part of woman’s dress or undergarment that covers the upper body), stole the letter from the secret pocket. The original one secured on him, he’d then replaced hers with the fake (bogus) letter.

Kaelan’s surplus orders had been, to deal with or, to cooperate (assist) with Lance Diostin, depending on the circumstances (outcome) back on deck, after Lance had incapacitated (vanquished) Zunrogo and the Lieutenant. He was rushing there to fight, rather, to inform Lance of the amended orders, that there was no longer any need to destroy the vessel along with everyone on board. A highly competent double agent, Kaelan’s real objective (the letter being switched) done, he was then simply to disappear for an indetermined period, supposedly, to report back (not just to Kozurs but also) to Black Molochs. 

The sudden encounter with this unknown masked man with his blade tainted with blood revealed to Kaelan that, something had gone terribly awry (amiss, wrong). 

An awful thought just then crossed Kaelan’s mind, as there were no sounds of battle above, in fact all was perfectly quiet. Still no time to worry, he’d launched his murderous assault to deal with, rather vanquish, this unexpected adversary (foe). But as the two fought on it soon became clear to Kaelan, just who the victor would be; the covert crewman ceasing an only opportunity, took to his heals with the enemy hot in pursuit. Once on deck, the quick fleeting look (glance) told Kaelan of the dire situation, rushing to the edge, he dove straight off the boat to disappear in the turbulent, foamy waters. A Good strong swimmer he was gone from sight within minutes. The other masked warrior, abandoning pursuit, quickly returned to his cabin.

                                                                                  ~

 

When the blackness lifted, Zunrogo with hazy eyes spotted (saw), Lance Diostin’s discarded heirloom sword in a pool of blood just a few feet away, and even though there was no sign of Lance Diostin, corpse or otherwise anywhere to be seen, he still presumed of Lance’s certain demise and sharply sat up.

Looking at his own bloodied sword, then back at Lance Diostin’s discarded blade, then over to Tizan who was still unconscious and collapsed against the mast, Zunrogo was now puzzled.  Unable to recollect (remember) exactly what or how it happened, he pieced all the probable set of circumstances, clues and facts to conclude that he must have somehow, before he lost consciousness, had dealt his opponent Lance Diostin, the mortal blow at the edge of the deck, and his corpse must have tumbled into the fast flowing waters of the river. Ignoring the painful throbbing top of his head and temples, he slowly rose to his feet and tottered over to pick up Lance Diostin’s heirloom sword, the irrefutable proof of the foe’s demise.

03- LANCE DIOSTIN'S DISCARDED HEIRLOOM-SWORD

Studying the blade’s edge and noticing a fissure (cleft) in it, he wondered, “Such force… Could I have done that? Did I slew him?” he marveled, wondering, as his fingers lightly traced the obvious indentation (crack, cleft, fracture). 

The next instant his face fell in a frown, “This is terrible…This is not what supposed to have happened. Blast!”  Besides, he needed Lance Diostin alive for questioning.

“How could I have been so reckless, or driven to such desperation, to have taken this adverse course? Yet I cannot recollect how …” Baffled by the mystery and angry at this obvious set-back, he gingerly caressed the large, pulsating bump on the back of his head then brought his hand around to look with a disconcerted eye at his blood-soaked fingers.

 “Strange, I clearly remember how I got this wound but everything after that my mind is a complete blank.”

He shook his head.  “Ouch!  Don't do that again.”  He inwardly admonished self, for his carelessness.

Zunrogo’s brief scrutiny of his body revealed numerous lacerations, gashes, and bruises, none of which were particularly serious, except one on his left thigh.  He made a mental note to have this one sewn up, for the gash was too deep for the flesh to bind on its own.  Thank goodness it’d missed the blood vessel!  For now, he tore some strips off his shirt and wrapped them tightly around the wound to stop the bleeding as he looked once more at Lance Diostin’s sword.  He remembered how he had got this wound as well.

“Why is my memory so selectively clouded about the last set of events?  What in blazes happened?”  This mental fog was most disconcerting for him.

Just then Tizan's stirring drew Zunrogo's attention.  Rushing over to the Lieutenant's side, he knelt and helped Tizan sit up.

 "I thought I'd lost you for good; now there, take it easy."  His manner was unusually friendly.

"You can't get rid of me that easily." Tizan smiled, echoing of the captain's good humor.  Then an unexpected, faint groan escaped his lips, “Uggh…The hammering in my head!" 

Shamefaced, Tizan gave a darting glance at Zunrogo, for in all these years this was the first time Tizan had complained about anything.

"So, you're made of flesh and blood after all." Zunrogo affectionately patted Tizan's shoulder then rose to his feet with a grimace.

Tizan's eye fell on Lance Diostin’s heirloom sword.  "You have his sword; is he dead, Captain?"

04--TZAN JP

"Deader than a doornail." came the dispassionate answer from Zunrogo.

"Well then, sir, your reputation should be greatly enhanced after this."

 Disregarding the pain shooting across his chest, Tizan picked himself up off of the deck.

"More than you can imagine." Zunrogo donned (gave) a grin of satisfaction.

"But I thought you wanted him alive?"  Tizan ripped off his wet shirt and unbuckled his breastplate.

"It couldn't be helped." Zunrogo shrugged, his gaze still fixed on Lance Diostin’s sword.

"But how did you manage it?  If you don't mind my saying so, the last I recall you were in dire straits.  He was on the point of vanquishing you."

Tizan's direct question hit home as he again recalled that same time.  “How indeed… Yet somehow, I had turned the evil tide in my favor and changed the outcome. I’m here, aren’t I?” Zunrogo pensively looked away. 

“Too bad I can't recollect any details.” Zunrogo then simply shrugged and said no more.

“The concussion must have caused this temporary amnesia (memory loss). Though it’s most irritating,” Zunrogo inwardly reasoned, “perhaps it’ll all come back, soon, I hope. Hah, meanwhile, my nemesis is dead.”  He took comfort in that thought and walked to the edge of the deck, looked down then cast his gaze far, at the barely visible snaking shoreline perimeter of the (wide) vast expanse of the fast-flowing river.

"Perhaps, Captain, when things are straightened out, you will enlighten me as to how you defeated so competent a foe." Tizan misinterpreted Zunrogo's reluctance as modesty, had snuck up behind him, to add; he thereon continued to be a pesky nuisance.

Looking back to his Lieutenant, Zunrogo nodded distractedly then smiled wryly when he saw how oblivious Tizan was to the pain of the multiple cuts and bruises on his limbs and chest.  His eye caught one slash, that was bleeding profusely.

 "You'd best take care of that wound." he pointed it out with his chin.

"I still have plenty of blood to spare." Tizan pressed his shirt against it observing more closely Lance’s heirloom-sword, which Zunrogo still held onto.  When he caught sight of the indentation at the edge of blade, he let out his breath in a long, involuntary gasp, "Wow!"

He looked up at Zunrogo, with an admiring gaze.  “Had he really done this?  I had no idea he could muster such force.”

Zunrogo ignored his reaction, looked around him and commented thoughtfully, "We have quite a bit of cleaning up to do, Tizan.  Do you think you're up to the task?"

"And why not…  Since when few cuts and bruises ever slowed me down, Captain?  I'm no old woman!"  Tizan indignantly sprung to his feet but the profuse bleeding from his wound constrained him, nonetheless, to do something about it.  Cutting some more strips, this time from the shirt of one of the corpses, he wound them tightly around his wound, giving it a haphazard, but effective, dressing.  At least now he could work unhindered.  He knew what had to be done without being told and he set too with closest perimeter, following the set routine, piling up the carcasses in (heaps) groups of two or three and finding heavy objects to tie them for weight.  He was ready to tackle the next batch (of corpses further away), when Zunrogo grasped his arm.

"No, Tizan, all this can wait."  He indicated with a nod of his head for Tizan to follow, as he swiftly (descended the stairs and) disappeared below decks.

 

 

(END OF SECTION 35)

                                                                                                 ~