LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 26

                  

Because the official who had originally chartered the dispatch boat was most eager to reach his destination, soon as Zunrogo's party stepped onto the deck, the anchor was hauled up and the craft immediately headed out.

01- AN OFFICIAL  LUVET

The same official had remained cloistered in his cramped cabin (private quarters) for the remainder of the journey, with always his head buried deep in documents. The crew went about their business efficiently but edgily in that tense, pervading (all encompassing) atmosphere.

Earlier Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had been told that, for security reasons, his true identity had not been disclosed to anyone on board, it seemed to Nevetsecnuac; thus, Zunrogo’s presence alone was sufficient grounds to put everyone on their unease (tenterhooks), including the official, with his self-imposed confinement. Nevertheless, for the next several days their journey passed uneventfully, as both the river current, and the wind sped them downstream until, at the crack of dawn on one overcast day, the government craft safely moored at the designated slip in Kenzor harbor. Had it not been for the vessel's urgent need for repairs, Zunrogo, without a moment's hesitation, would have confiscated the craft for the rest of the voyage and pressed on.  Instead, by the time it took Fradel and Zunrogo to consume a satisfying hot breakfast at one of the prospering tea houses, Tizan had expeditiously booked another passenger boat and had their luggage transferred aboard, ready for their prompt (summary) departure.

Later that same morning, when they set off for the Capital, there were only few other boats sharing their course (headed the same way).  By noon the fair-weather-wind, rolling down the river valley from the north had again picked up momentum (speed). To take full advantage, their swift, modern craft at once hoisted its triangular sails and, instantly picking up speed, in no time at all put a considerable distance between them and the rest of the riverboats, save one.  This one seemed to be persistently keeping up the pace.

On the subsequent days this same north wind brought down drizzling rain and fog so dense that the riverbanks became virtually invisible. Then the blustery weather picking up force, out of nowhere herded in, a dark mass of clouds that turned midday into dusk.  The river water, churned by the tempest wind speed, broke up into rolling, silvery waves that tossed snowy foam onto the deck, perpetually rocking the craft until the dowels and bindings that held the craft together were strained to the breaking point.

The captain of the vessel, Ortusz Doku, responding to the petitions of his other, sickened passengers and, the insistence of his crew, bent on his knees before Zunrogo to obtain his permission to steer the craft into a safe harbor before the boat was battered apart by the storm.

Neither Zunrogo nor Tizan were affected in the least bit by the incessant rocking of the boat.  Frowning and cursing, Zunrogo denigrated Ortusz with his cutting words until the captain, his pride sorely bruised, made to leave.  But then Zunrogo (on second thought) relented and gave his consent.  Soon after the vessel was expertly steered through the blinding rain into a bend in the river where the anchor was cast, and the ship moored fast by strong ropes to huge trees onshore. Just in time too, for suddenly strong, gale force winds sprang up as the worst of the storm hit. The vessel, safely moored, still was violently, unmercifully rocked, like it was but a toy.  The waves beat against the shore in an angry uproar as torrential, pelting rains drenched everything to the core.  Thankfully, the precautions they had just taken enabled the boat to ride out the storm and sustain only minimal damage.

During this grueling episode, akin (like) other passengers, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had fought off the terrible motion sickness; but then, under the watchful eye of Zunrogo Tugo, reluctantly had taken some medicated wine at Tugo’s insistence, which in fact aside from some troubling side-effects, had alleviated (assuaged) his discomfort.  In this partially vulnerable state, chiefly to get his mind off his ailment, he had, moreover, dashed off a few lines of verse about boats and storms.  The brilliance of poetry composed in such dire straits won him Zunrogo’s great admiration and, in due course, eliminated the Captain of the Palace Guard's last (ounce) residue of suspicion. 

Finally (on the third day), when the storm abated, the boat was made ready, with improvised improvements to, just before noon, cast off.

As the journey continued it appeared to an observer, looking only at the deceptive shroud of congeniality spread by Fradel Rurik Korvald and Zunrogo that they were conversing frankly, without the least inhibition.  Yet, after hours of conversation, Zunrogo had to admit that he found this stimulating intellectual sparring more exhilarating, more closely akin to combating a powerful foe on the battlefield and, he began to crave more of it.

Nevetsecnuac’s assumed, present identity had seriously constrained (curtailed) his abilities, forcing him to adapt to more shrewd and indirect means; and so, while seemingly obliging Captain Zunrogo, he used this opportunity instead, to explore (delve deeper into) Captain's innate nature and, extracted from Zunrogo, few, well-guarded detrimental weaknesses and flaws.  Once this was accomplished Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) relaxed his vigil, as he much preferred fighting any formidable foe directly, by way of (via) tangible (physical) combat.

As both Nevtsecnuac and Zunrogo possessed remarkable staying powers, the ensued lively exchange utilizing acumen, wits, and stratagem (subterfuge), had continued well into the night, with no possibility of satisfactory cessation.  There came a time, however, upon discussing a particular concern, after several fruitless turns and diversionary strategies, Zunrogo (the undefeated champion) was forced to, for a spell, capitulate Fradel's point of view.

04- - CAPTAIN ZUNROGO TUGO JP 2

And though Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) at present, incurred deep respect for his brilliance from Zunrogo, captain not being one to cede, with renewed zeal (fervor) he quickly revised his stance (estimation, viewpoint) and retaliated.  His irrefutable logic (analysis) gave him the added edge and, following this up with an all-out offensive, he achieved his absolute victory.  Fradel could have still challenged some of the seemingly unequivocal deductions, but with due practicality, he instead, gracefully conceded to defeat.

Fradel's mind, meanwhile, had been all along distracted by other matters, one of which was their pursuer.  Even though the ensuing (following) vessel had been temporarily lost to sight in the storm, Fradel hypothesized that it would again catch up to them in a day or two after the weather abated.

Several times Fradel, having concluded that it was Lance Diostin; he had wanted to drop that name casually in conversation, to observe Zunrogo’s reaction.  Each time however deciding otherwise, he’d held his tongue in check.

For what possible reason could he give for even knowing the name Lance Diostin?  More importantly, there had been this nagging feeling that he had harbored since they boarded this vessel.  There was more at stake here than what met the eye, more vital and sinister than the threat to his life.  What it was, unfortunately, he had not yet ascertained, and its nature kept eluding him.

 On this particular concern, Fradel's otherwise foolproof methods of inquiry had met an impenetrable wall erected by Zunrogo.  Even after Fradel had yielded the argument to drop latter’s guard, Zunrogo had held on fast to this secret with unusual grit and tenacity.  Fradel could gain no grasp of the actual situation and was left, in the end, with only his unsubstantiated intuition.

                                                                                       ~

Later that night, Fradel fortuitously happened on a confidential conversation between Zunrogo and Tizan and caught a singular reference being made to Lance Diostin's martial prowess.  Fradel was intrigued, to say the least, by Zunrogo’s respectful references to his adversary.

Was Lance Diostin such a competent foe that he cast a doubt in Zunrogo’s heart?  Keeping his hand poised above the door's handle, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) eavesdropped for a longer spell.

From the disjointed, coded then decoded fragments that were being discussed Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) deduced that Tizan had previously sighted Lance Diostin at Kenzor harbor and Zunrogo had arrived at a similar conclusion as his (Nevetsecnuac),

That Lance Diostin’s craft was indeed trailing them.

Nevetsecnuac further suspected that once the storm had abated the enemy vessel (craft) would swiftly descend upon them for that decisive fray. Despite his readiness however, his intuition (the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach) forewarned him that there was far more at stake here than Zunrogo let on.

Zunrogo was about to instruct Tizan on the finer points of the strategic defenses, that were to be utilized against Lance Diostin’s impending assaults, when Fradel Rurik Korvald's sudden knock at the door startled them both. 

Fradel quickly dispensing with the polite preliminaries took the seat offered to him across from the captain.  Getting right to the point and feigning ignorance, he then confessed to overhearing the name of Lance Diostin as he was about to knock on the door and, audaciously, inquired after the information associated with that name.

Zunrogo's reluctant and evasive answers further piqued Nevetsecnuac’s (Fradel's) curiosity; he, nevertheless, letting it go, pretended to have been satisfied with Captain's makeshift explanations.  Fradel quickly stated what he had originally come to say, and then abruptly rose to bade them good night and then hastily withdrew.

Back in his cabin, with many concerns praying on his mind, Nevetsecnuac did not (immediately) go to bed, instead, he set down in comfortable chair and reflected on the past exchange between Zhadol and Yennic.  As far as he could tell, there were three reasons to account for Lance Diostin's pursuit: a feud between the two factions; Dwengzu's prediction that, should Fradel Rurik Korvald be allowed to reach Channing, it would bring about Egil Viggoaries’s premature death (or, serious downfall); and some third reason which still eluded him.  His thoughts then reverted to Yennic’s (blatant) unabashed approval, when he was informed that Lance Diostin would be guarding the river route.

Thinking of the upcoming confrontation between Zunrogo and Lance Diostin, Fradel grinned wryly.  “That should prove rather interesting, though I doubt that I, Fradel Rurik Korvald, will be allowed to witness this remarkable combat. Yet, what if both Zunrogo and Tizan, despite their combined effort, can’t…? “He lowered his eyes thoughtfully and tersely drummed his fingers on the chair arm.

05- NEVETSECNUAC  JP 23

“It is conceivable that they might not measure up to the task.  What then?”  Nevetsecnuac reflected short time later, recalling Zunrogo's apparent anxiety when he had casually mentioned Lance Diostin’s name, to him. “What if they did indeed succumb to the prowess of this formidable foe?  If that is the case, I'll be constrained to fend for myself and then eliminate all who witnessed the fighting.  More slaughter!”  He shifted uneasily into the chair.

Aside from the vessel's Captain, Doku, and his crew and their own party, there were four other passengers on board: a young couple with an infant son and a reserved, semi-retired official.  The rest had good fortune to leave the river boat after the storm and preceded the rest of their way on land.  The remaining passengers kept very much to themselves and, for the most part, stayed in their cabins.

“If the circumstances dictate it, would I have the heart?” He knew he would not.

 “There was only one option, the only alternative choice, for him to take; yes,” he nodded decisively.                          

                                                                                      ~

 

The last remnants of the storm had finally abated at dawn, leaving the river a bit more swollen and the currents in the center a touch faster.

As Zunrogo and Fradel had (independently) forecasted, two days later the sail of the pursuing craft was spotted for a split second, bearing swiftly down on them from the distance, just before the river turned to hide them once more.  Accepting Zunrogo's reluctance to discuss the matter, Fradel, acting as though he had seen nothing, occupied himself with the typical scholarly concerns of reading and composing while discreetly noting the flurry of activity among the deck hands. 

They did not see the vessel again for some time after that.

 

 

(END OF SECTION 26)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 25

Once outside, Frastos and Briac’s path led them hurriedly through bustling streets, intersections, and busy marketplaces.  Turning eventually into the side streets, then alleys followed winding pathways that skirted the more dangerous neighborhoods until they eventually halted before the awesome gate of Guzor Temple. 

01- FRASTOS - JP 10

Frastos with some effort pushed open the creaking bronze gate that was flanked by two giant (menacing looking, fierce) marble door Gods and then stepped aside to allow Briac to enter the temple grounds first. Once inside, Briac, with an uneasy, unapplicable feeling suddenly gripping his chest cavity (certain trepidation suddenly gripping his chest) halted his step (stayed his footing) and then with vigilant (wary) eyes surveyed the dilapidated, totally devoid of soul (empty, deserted) courtyard.  Suddenly, however, both Frastos and Briac had instantly found themselves facing an imposing veteran warrior (in his forties) wielding a cudgel; one who was far stronger and more agile than he let on, having manifested god knows from where, on the very scene.

"This area is forbidden to all."  He glared at Frastos and Briac with equal hostility, as he stood firm menacingly blocking their way.  "Trespassing is punishable by death.  Heed my advice and turn back at once then no harm shall befall you."

"Good sir, we are law abiding citizens."  Briac bowed gallantly, "Of course we shall do as you say."

"As soon as we are allowed to see the: “Plum blossoms that adorn the beauty passing under them."  Frastos hastily interjected (cut in).

The warrior narrowed his eyes and with the stern visage scrutinized (eyed) them both suspiciously for a brief spell; subsequently, a curious wry smile registering fleetingly on his lips, as he turned to address Frastos.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place," he ejected in his strong, husky voice, nodding.

His effort at being congenial clashed terribly with his fiery, hostile gaze.

02 - WARRIOR GUARD

"I suppose there is no harm in letting you take a peek.  Please follow me, gentlemen," with a gesture of his hand he led them to the interior.

"I must ask you to keep quiet next time.  Let me do the talking." Briac whispered, tugging on Frastos' sleeve as they were led in tow.

They had passed under several archways, had taken what seemed like a thousand turns, until they had lost all sense of direction.  After descending an endless set of stone stairs, they suddenly found themselves in a huge underground hall.  Brilliant frescoes adorned the walls.  Scenes depicted deities and sacrificial rites, so painfully detailed, so lifelike that both Briac and Frastos cringed visibly despite themselves.

 The warrior guard bade them wait in the center of this great hall then disappeared swiftly behind one of a set of six great doors.

He reemerged a moment later with ten stout armed men in tow who swiftly surrounded Briac and Frastos.  "What business do you say you have with us?" one, who looked to be their leader, stepped forward to demand.

Again, Frastos jumped in before Briac had the chance to speak, "I, Briac, have delivered here to you, sir, the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald himself, for just and due elimination."  He pointed at Briac.

The blood in Briac's veins froze in fright.  Understanding the treachery, his face darkened in anger.

"You…"  Before Briac had the chance to utter another word, however, all ten stepped forward towards him and, in a choreographed dance of steel, instantly cut him down to pieces, right where he stood, he was dead before he could have another intake of breath (or exhale).

When it was promptly over, "We thank you." their leader bowed to Frastos.

03- LEADER

 "We've been monitoring your advance closely since the checkpoint at Zakoz and were on the point of launching a fool proof assault tonight.  Now, instead, we will feast to our easy success since you so brilliantly spared us the trouble.  I hope that you will enlighten us during our celebrations on how you successfully lured Fradel Rurik Korvald away from captain Zunrogo's protective custody and delivered him right into our lair.”

Frastos had, in fact, hoped to leave immediately but he could see no way out.

He graciously consented, though he knew that this meant his life would be forfeited.  He had, however, accepted this assignment despite the likelihood of this very outcome, so he trailed the Chief through the six great doors to the banquet hall where the feast was to be held in his honor.

He was quickly ushered to a seat next to the Chief, which was a mark of privilege and, an apt tribute for his rendered service tonight. The table was already set with mountain of meat, all kinds of local delicacies, towering exotic fruit and countless jugs and cups, all filled to the brim with variety of alcoholic brew (beverages).

04- FRASTOS - JP 09

 Frastos ate his fill and drank merrily; knowing that soon the news of the captain and two guards booking passage then sailing off on a riverboat would reach them and expose his deception.  By then, however, Fradel Rurik Korvald would be safely away from their murderous reach, and he would have done his duty.  All he could hope for now was an honorable and glorious, swift death. Looking around him, he sized up the opposition and contemplated which ones he could dispatch into the nether world before his own fatality.

An unseen eye of a Kozur affiliate (cloaked in dark attire), known as simply Tenzo, perched on a roof, however, carefully studied this courageous youth that had been so callously sacrificed by Captain Zunrogo. Kozurs could use such a valiant, highly skilled warrior; in fact, Frastos had been for some time now under their radar, a surveillance, and owing to the favorable report, Tenzo had already sent a message (written word through carrier pigeon) requesting backup, for his planned rescue. Hidden by the shadows, he now waited for the apt opportunity, as he contemplated on the steps he would take, for that successful execution of his most daring plan.

05-TENZO (KOZUR AFFILIATE)JP

      ~

 “It’s inconceivable but, owing to the Xekor Festival, every boat in the harbor has been booked solid.  Even so, Tizan, capably found an official dispatch boat returning to Kenzor port and having settled the amount of the fare, has booked us a joint passage on this craft." Zunrogo succinctly informed Fradel, as they hastened towards the bustling harbor.

Making every effort to be congenial, he smiled, "The inconvenience will be for a short duration only. Once in Kenzor we stand a better chance at obtaining swifter, more suitable transportation to Channing.  Taking this roundabout route may also deter any pursuit from those who wish us harm."

"What about Frastos and Briac; are they to be left behind?” Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) inquired. 

“Their services are no longer required?"  The captain ejected curtly.

Fradel looked away uneasily, "Briac I understand, but Frastos?"

Zunrogo had ceased to be surprised by Fradel's keen insight.  "It could not be helped." He said coldly, keeping up the fast pace.

"At least Frastos witnessed the ten thousand cuts on…" Tizan, walking on Fradel's other side, had started to say when he was abruptly silenced by an icy glare from Zunrogo.

Still that partial phrase had been enough for Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) to grasp the unhappy outcome.

06-NEVETSECNUAC  JP 3

“So, that had been the fate of the traitor, Briac?  But what of Frastos; had he been sacrificed merely to give them this small leeway?”  Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was dismayed by the thought. Though he had little to do with Frastos, since the time at the first Inn where they had made eye contact through the hole in the tapestry, he was, nevertheless, being a good judge of man's character, had deemed Frastos as an upright, courageous and a loyal subordinate, yet his death obviously mattered so little to Zunrogo and Tizan. 

“What kind of hardhearted monsters are you?”  Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) stole a discreet, contemptuous look at them both.

Zunrogo grinned coolly and looked away as if he’d just then read Fradel’s mind.

                                                                             ~

 

(END OF SECTION 25)                                                                 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 11

Fradel, resolved to tell all, nodded and then solemnly confessed: "The venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald, in truth was my adopted father, who’d rescued me from the clutches of death and raised me as his own all these years. This fact was revealed to me on his death bed."

Svein empathetically listened to it, as Fradel gradually unfolded the threads of his confidential, distressing past:

Zukan Rurik Korvald, a celebrated scholar of his time, one faithful day on a return trip after visiting a close relative, propitiously (impulsively) requiring some respite, had had his boat moored on the banks of the river Tua, just a short distance from a bridge.  He had interrupted his journey craving also, to partake (imbibe) a particular fine wine (a special brew he’d procured from a winery), while absorbing proper appreciation of the marvelous scenery that enhanced that region. 

01- ZUKAN RURIK KORVALD

Subsequently inspired, he’d composed some brilliant stanzas that were later to be highly prized by the gentry; just before dusk, he’d laid down his brush and returned to his cabin to recline for a short repose (rest) when, the blowing of horns and the approaching thunder of hooves drove him back up on deck.

From afar, he had then witnessed the gruesome tragedy of two people, unfortunate enough to be caught on the bridge and, failing to clear the way, being trampled by Zakhertan Yozdek's unruly steed as he led his mounted contingent in a fearsome race over the hills, leaving a trail of dust behind. Overriding the protests of his boatmen, Zukan Rurik Korvald still sent his two trusted servants to the bridge to assess the damage and, perhaps, lend some curative help to the unfortunate victims.  As expected, their report of the couple's fate came as no surprise to anyone.  The couple had been trampled to death; however, the mother's quick action, as she'd used her body to shield her infant son from the deadly onslaught had spared the baby from a certain death.  The chief steward, not knowing what else to do, had returned with the scrawny, bawling infant in his arms.

The captain and crew put up a strong resistance to having the baby on board, arguing that this was no small matter.  Refusing to become involved, the captain had strongly advised Zukan to dispose of the infant along with his parents’ corpses into the river.

 "Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek,” he'd vehemently warned, "is not one to be trifled with.  You're a stranger to these parts; you don't know the half of it.  If you value your life, you'd best forget all you've seen today.  The law can't touch mighty Field-Marshall, so save yourself from sure future calamity.  This infant is not worth the serious trouble which it could beget, not only for you but for us all."

"Nonsense; no one is above the law!" Zukan had exploded.  Ordinarily a mild-mannered nobleman, he had regretted this outburst immediately and thus added calmly, "I'll deal with this in my own way, you will not be involved."

As a man of integrity and chivalrous character, the venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald had delayed his departure from this region thence, in order to appear before the local Magistrate, named Luoki, to demand justice for two unidentified, dead peasants.

 Magistrate Luoki and the other prominent local authorities, disgruntled atop quaking with fear, had shown reluctance, furthermore, banding together had done their best to discourage Zukan from this dangerous pursuit.  Discreetly, and unofficially, the scholar was counseled to leave well enough alone and was again told that Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek was too powerful a man to offend.

“This misdemeanor,” as they called the murder of two peasants, who were obviously also strangers to the region, “was too light a charge to even think of summoning Field Marshal Zakhertan before a rural court to give account.”

 The Magistrate had, meanwhile, wrapped up the case quickly and efficiently, after his subordinates had obtained (secured) false evidence from the boatmen and his crew, all of it substantiating the final verdict, the pronouncing of the couple's death, a deliberate act of a double suicide.   

Outnumbered, Zukan Rurik Korvald’s protests had, via other measures, been totally curtailed; he was rendered powerless to beget any justice for the innocent victims. In this way, though, local authorities and the deemed ungrateful Zukan Rurik Korvald, were shielded from the certain future wrath of Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek.

03-MAGISTRATE LUOKI

The matter thus summarily settled; the Magistrate Luoki demanded next, that the child be turned over to the authorities for his proper disposal.  Rather than surrendering, however, Zukan and his servants fled the area under cover of night.

Later Zukan had sent a trusted aide back to the region under disguise in order to make discrete investigations into the identity of the victims and about any prior (erstwhile) links (relations, possible family, contacts).  When this effort proved to be in vain, Zukan had embraced the child as his own and, since he was himself childless, named the infant Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Quite discontented with the rampant corruption under Zakhertan Yozdek's growing power, observing how the Field-Marshall’s hands gripped the nation's neck, choking tightly until the pulse ceased its flow; the indignant (aristocrat) scholar Zukon, had eventually been constrained (forced) to become a recluse.

Zukan's peaceful domain was so completely insulated that it allowed no outside infiltration at all.  Fradel had grown up perfectly schooled in literary skills and religion, cocooned in this tranquil atmosphere, oblivious to the harsh realities in the so-called civilized world outside.  The truth about his parentage was revealed to him only at Zukan's death bed.  Unfortunately, before the three years of mourning for the venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald was over and Fradel had fully explored his avenues of vengeance against Zakhertan, Fradel had been summoned to court.

Fradel at this point, falling silent, had pensively looked away beyond the curtainless window, to observe the night sky dotted with blinking stars.

"It is as I had expected,” Svein (Nevetsecnuac) just then rejoined with fire in his eyes, startling Fradel from his ephemeral brooding (ruminating).  "We share the same purpose, you and I.” Svein smiled and then nodded. “It may have started as a personal vendetta, but it has now gone far beyond that, hasn't it?"  Svein, next, answered Fradel's silent query. "Yes, my parents and all my family, too, were cruelly murdered by Zakhertan Yozdek."

Fradel gazed at Svein nonplused, realizing only then that, despite the intense and extensive interchange that led them to the brink of becoming sworn brothers, he still knew virtually nothing of Svein's background.  How far can I hinge on this blind faith?

But before Fradel could give voice to his thoughts, Svein inquired directly and with sincere concern, "Your courage and aim are both most commendable, Fradel; and I don’t wish to give offense, however, it is obvious that you lack both knowledge and skill in pertinent strategy, medicine, toxins or Martial Arts.  How do you propose to best (assassinate) this most formidable foe Zakhertan Yozdek? Lest I miss something vital, may I be permitted to learn of your plan?  Besides, I doubt that you have ever killed an animal, let alone a human being."

"You are quite correct in your supposition.” Fradel replied coolly.  "I've always been opposed to the taking of life.  I've espoused the philosophy of Zuox which holds that 'All life, its form and expression, is sacred.  They must be cherished and preserved.'  But that hardly applies to a villain like Zakhertan, a monster arrayed (clothed) in human form.  I'm well aware of the past, unsuccessful, numerous attempts on usurper Monarch's life.  Though I have comparatively little fighting ability, this inadequacy does not deter me from my noble aim.  I have the will, and I am prepared to die to attain justice for my parents and for my countrymen.  The monster must be made to atone for his crimes."  As he vehemently expressed his hatred of Zakhertan once more, he grew quite flushed, his ears burned, and his voice grew hoarse.

"You have echoed the sentiments of my own heart.” Svein responded thoughtfully when the other fell silent.  "But, Fradel, this is no small task, and it should not be taken lightly.  I, at least, was trained and conditioned since childhood for such a purpose while you were not.  Every fabric of my being stands in readiness for this fight.  Far be it that I should deter you from your just cause, but I fear that your noble attributes, exceptional courage may not be enough; why, then, should you throw your life away?”

"No.", Svein waved a dissenting hand to still the retort forming on Fradel's tongue.  "Please hear me out first.  A man can only die once.  All that I ask is that you postpone your vengeance until I have had a go at it first.  In the event that I should fail then it will be your turn.  By then, perhaps, you would have attained the necessary skill and be able to succeed where others before you have failed."

"I know that you mean well, Svein, and I will certainly take your words under advisement.” Fradel stubbornly replied.  "Still, being the least likely person to attack the Monarch, I would have the element of surprise on my side and may be more likely to inflict a mortal wound on him.  He is on his guard with formidable men (civil or military) with fine physiques, wary of fighters of all sorts (male or female), dissident scholars or any citizen with adverse views.  But he would never suspect a nature loving recluse such as I.  I’m aware of the fact that his elite security has checked me out thoroughly."  Fradel stopped and went over to his luggage and began rummaging around inside.  Finding what he sought for, he withdrew an antique-looking writing brush and presented it with a flourish.  "Besides, this provides me with the perfect means of killing him."

Suppressing a chuckle, Svein queried, "And how, may I ask, do you propose to use that?  However, genius a contraption, a concealed weapon in the form of a brush would be detected at once.”

Ignoring Svein's obvious misgivings, Fradel smiled wryly and pointed the bristles of the brush towards the headboard.  Instantly a small metal dart buried itself with a twang half-way into the wood.

 As Svein went to retrieve the dart, Fradel removed a small, wooden box from his pocket and opening it, announced, "This is no ordinary ink box.  It contains the highly noxious ink that can paralyze the heart within seconds of coming in contact with the skin.  Loading the brush for writing laces the tip of the dart and a concealed trigger launches it.  This trick should bring about Zakhertan's destruction instantly. “

04- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD

“I most certainly will be searched for concealed weapons before I'm brought into his presence, but they would not take away the tools of my trade; I need these to fulfill my purpose in being summoned there.  I ask you; would anyone suspect the simple writing implement of a non-political, scholarly recluse?"

"It seems you’ve given this a lot of thought.  And admittedly it’s the most ingenious device. The barbed dart is most cleverly camouflaged as one of the bristles.  Now suppose you are fortunate enough that it does escape the meticulous scrutiny (search) of the elite security. But the target may not be such an easy one to hit.  Zakhertan Yozdek is renowned for his military prowess; he's reportedly unsurpassed in agility, strength, and cunning.  Moreover, he might be wearing under his court vestments, light metal armor (cuirass, shield); you, taking that into account, no doubt plan to aim for his neck, hand or face. Nevertheless, with his incredible reflexes he may still successfully elude the dart and what then?    Have you an alternate plan to follow in this one's wake?"

"No!” Fradel stamped his foot in vexation.  In truth, he had not configured every possibility, and, Svein’s points had certain validity.  Going against such a formidable foe he should have devised a more plausible secondary, even a tertiary plan to fall back on in order to ensure his success.  He sat down to ponder with a sinking heart.

"Do not lose heart, brother, for I shall not fail.  The monster's days are numbered."  Svein lightly tapped Fradel's shoulder in consolation.

Svein's addressing him as "brother" recalled to Fradel’s mind, his earlier resolve.  Rising to his feet, he proposed that, since there were now no obstacles, they should take the oath of brotherhood without further delay; after which they could plan at length how best he and Svein, as individuals or jointly, could best serve their cause.  But it was now Svein's turn to (hesitate) show reserve; nevertheless, in the brief silence that ensued, Svein had swiftly resolved his inner quandary.  Svein sincerely addressing Fradel, first asked forgiveness for his prior deception, and then drawing near, in a low voice revealed the name of his mentor, Lord Asger Thuxur Marrow Zhon, and subsequently, confessed to his true identity.

Overcoming his shock, Fradel was about to drop to his knees to show his proper respect, when he was swiftly, courteously, stopped by Nevetsecnuac.  “Since they were practically brothers already,” Nevetsecnuac, same time had reasoned, “such formalities were quite unwarranted.”

"But I, the orphan son of lowly peasants, am unworthy of such great honor.  I cannot hope to ever become the sworn brother of a Prince (Nevtsecnuac Alric Therrain Valamir).” Fradel protested.

"You have now offended me deeply, brother.” Nevetsecnuac frowned.  “I never figured you to be so pompous.  After all that we have shared, nothing has changed between us."

 The emotion filled speech that followed, imbued with such humility and honesty so overwhelmed Fradel that, his eyes brimming with tears, he finally acquiesced.

In the private ceremony that followed, the Prince and the Scholar both fell to their knees facing south.  Voicing their petition to the Heavenly Gods, they swore an oath before them to be brothers for life.  After a small cut was inflicted on each one’s index finger, the dripping blood was then collected in a ceramic goblet half filled with wine.  Taking the cup in both hands, Nevetsecnuac ceremoniously presented it to Fradel, calling him elder brother as Fradel was five years his senior.  Receiving the cup, Fradel drank the first sip from it then, with just as much ceremony, offered it to Nevetsecnuac, addressing him as his younger brother.  After Nevetsecnuac had obliged, the cup was hurled against the fireplace and broke into a thousand fragments, sealing the oath forever.  The (sudden) just then rising winds outside vigorously rattled the shutters as if in shared joy and approval.

Nevetsecnuac and Fradel, now as brothers sat across from each other and toasted to their future success. As they partook the wine, they reminisced about family members and dear friends that could not be there; later still, slightly inebriated, they drowned their sorrows in yet more capfuls of wine. 

During this time Fradel was told of the great deeds and sacrifices of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, Lu Moldan and the rest, marveling at their greatness, loyalty and scope of heroic attributes, comparing each to the legendary historical figures.

As the topic gradually veered towards the exacting of vengeance, Fradel asked Nevetsecnuac if he had on him the special ID Permit, a vital official (two-part) document essential in allowing one access to Capital Province Holger and then to Imperial city Channing.

Nevetsecnuac shook his head in the negative, then asked, "An ID Permit? This is the first time I’ve heard of such a requisite."

"Just as I suspected,” Fradel nodded thoughtfully.  "But that's to be expected."  He went on to explain that few officials, never mind influential citizens, were aware of the necessity for such a certificate, even though its use had been strictly enforced by the authorities in the Capital province, Holger, for half a year now.  He recounted how he, himself, would have been caught unawares, had it not been for the Palace Guard's explicit reminder when he'd delivered the summons from the Court.

FRADEL

"I'm afraid that, without it, entry to the Capital is impossible.” Fradel intoned grimly. 

"This strict measure had been put into effect after a latest, nearly successful attempt on Zakhertan's life by a small group of very competent assassins.  I have heard undisputed claims that since then, Imperial City Channing has been sealed like a fortress, allowing no entry or egress without proper authorization.”

It was most fortunate, indeed, that we talked long enough for me to recall this important detail otherwise, being caught at the gate without this official permit; you would have instantly been apprehended for questioning.  Your aim would have been frustrated very early on."

"Then I must act to secure for myself such documents,” came Nevetsecnuac's decisive response.  "Can I rely on your guidance and assistance, brother?"

"You don't understand the degree of difficulty involved.” Fradel shook his head. 

"It's not a question of my assistance, brother; I wish it was that easy.  I'm afraid that these two-part documents can only be obtained at your birthplace and are issued only by the resident Governor for a considerable fee.  You must also produce at least three other notable residents as witnesses.  Even under the best of circumstances, such a process could not be completed within a month."

Fradel drew out the documents from their protective covering of waxed parchment and pointed an explicit finger to the top left corner of one of them where, sealed under gum Arabic, a provincial court artist had drawn the poet's likeness.  Nevetsecnuac's eyes followed, with increasing misgivings and a heavier heart, the list of Fradel's identifying particulars, his physical description, parent's name, age and birthplace and finally, at the bottom, the long trail of official seals.

06- NEVETS EXAMINES PAPER

"Due to the urgency of summons necessitating my prompt departure, the obliging Lord and the new governor, Mojen, spared me the time and difficulty of procuring necessary documentation.  Taking me at my word, they acted as my guarantors and expediently processed the ID Permit with all due haste." Fradel, pensively(thoughtfully), meanwhile, had continued. "Of course, even if I did have the ID Documents of my deceased servants still in my possession,” Fradel interjected, "their particulars are so vastly different from yours that, I'm afraid, they still would have been of no use to you."

Having recently buried the men, Nevetsecnuac concurred with a nod of his head; meanwhile, it had become clear to Nevetsecnuac that without proper verification, he could never obtain, not at any length of time, this kind of vital documentation. 

"What is to be done, then?” he gave voice to his fret (hassle).  "How can I beat this unexpected hindrance (hurdle)?  I must seek another ingenious means to override this serious obstacle." Nevetsecnuac distractedly followed Fradel's bold strides to and for, as the scholar presently paced the room in contemplation.

"But, of course!” Nevetsecnuac jumped up in elation.  "Why didn’t I think of this before?"

Startled, Fradel grabbed Nevetsecnuac's arm.  "What is it, brother?"

"The answer to our dilemma is right before us. The problem has already been resolved by none other than you, brother." Nevetsecnuac responded with a bemused smile.

"Me? How?"

"Elder Brother, it just struck me how similar in appearance we are.  For instance, are we both relatively of the same height and bearing and share similar facial features?  Fortunately, due to haste, the hair and eye coloring were not precise. With a beard, could I not pass for twenty-five?"

"What an idea!" Fradel chortled.

07 NEVETS AND FRADEL

 "I knew there was something about you I liked."  His eyes dwelt on Nevetsecnuac with a new intensity as he surveyed the prince’s features.  "Yes, it is possible." he had to concur.  "I must be getting muddle headed, strange how this simple solution eluded me."

"That's because, elder brother, despite all my previous reasoning you still harbor the desire to press on by yourself.  How stubborn you are."  Nevetsecnuac teased, shaking a finger at him.

Donning a long face, Fradel turned an aimless gaze to the crackling flames of the fire.  An inexplicable sadness just then, gripping his heart.

 

(END OF SECTION 11)