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)

 

ASSASINS - SECTION 6

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 6

Outside the cabin the ongoing combat by degrees had further intensified. Now they had as well the sudden snowstorm to contend with. The blinding swirls in part aided Svein and Stark who were adept at fighting in all kinds of weather.

 

Unfortunately for Brandt, already impeded by the erupting gusts of wind and snow, he failed to intercept a lightning   strike from the side and so was catapulted off his feet.

With Brandt’s sword flying from his hand, his body next in a headlong thrust was projected through the air straight at the thick trunk of an ancient tree. The severity of the hit immediately rendered him unconscious.   After a spell when he came to, the fighting had fortuitously steered well away from his position. 

Everyone being too preoccupied with the deadly struggle, none had noted his regaining   consciousness. Seizing this opportunity, as his head throbbed anyhow and stars still danced before his eyes, besides which his body having taken quite a beating ached all over- Brandt   closed his eyes and remained perfectly still where he lay. His intent was to purloin (pilfer) some time to consider his options while he regained his full faculties and strength. 

Brandt’s subsequent stealthy observance revealed that Duan ‘s discarded sword with a broken blade lay to the side as Duan presently was using Brandt’s own sword.

Blue streaks of icy light flashed from the fierce clashes of the twin swords, engaged by opposite forces.  On each turn one blocked the other's assaults effortlessly.

 Brandt   seethed in contemptuous rage as he noted how despite Stark’s apparent impediment- fresh blood from the previous wounds being ripped apart, in conjunction with the newly incurred ones increasingly soaking the bandages- latter still fought with incessant (relentless, constant), enduring strength, skill and agility.  Meanwhile the young one’s prowess was something akin to legendary warriors. Periodically the three would be locked in such a fierce, deadly combat of such dizzying speed, that the assaults and defensives became barely visible to the naked eye in that whirling wall of wind, blades, snow and debris.

Oh, such a feat, a truly spectacular (outstanding) sight! Witnessing these near fatal clashes and murderous charges, Brandt   despite himself, for a spell, had remained in awe of their brilliant magnificence.

 His abhorrence of the nemesis was such, however, that all too quickly his face darkened, when he rebounded from this temporary sense of wonderment. 

Blast him! Brandt   presently bit his lip and cursed under his breath, as his covert focus once again was affixed on Stark.  Wounded and old, yet the fiend still fights with the strength of a hundred men.  No doubt he is aided by demons! Hmmm…This remarkable youth and he, together they represented an invincible (unbeatable) force; but perhaps individually, he inwardly concurred: yes, individually they could be bested.

It was at this point, recalling an old axiom about the two fighting tigers, that the very solution hit (struck) Brandt: his would be subsequent course of action, the only plausible option. Brandt’s heart more at peace now, he closed his eyes in respite. He would wait out the fighting tigers till they wore each other out.

Furiously however, it had continued seemingly endlessly, with the same vigor (dynamism, energy) and intensity. Though the contenders had by then divested themselves of most of their garments which now lay scattered about on the ground, and the biting winds had picked up to form rime (hoarfrost) on their hair, rivulets of sweat still ran down their foreheads, cheeks and over their bare chests.

Brandt   while remaining   perfectly still and, waiting for this stalemate to end, with hypnotic force of his mind had effectively blocked out the ravages of the cold from affecting his body.  But another sort of danger was creeping in, for the scent of warm blood fresh from the combatants’ wounds intermingling with sweat had attracted countless glowing eyes in the thick bushes around the clearing.  Saliva dripping from their mouths the hungry pack of wolves waited patiently for a chance to strike (and devour the resulting, wounded prey).

 Brandt felt as though he would burst stealthily observing how Duan breathed hot, venomous vapors from his nostrils as he wielded his sword with colossal (enormous) lethal force; yet each strike was deflected with such maddening   equanimity.  With no visible signs of strain or slowing down, both Svein and Stark kept up with their consistent fighting and superb assault and offensives. 

Blast! Brandt   seethed (fumed) considering this chink (unexpected turn) in his otherwise plausible plan.  Duan should have bested them by then or at least weakened them, but the fiend had finally met his match.

                                                                   ~

 

Stark had detected (been aware) the precise moment Brandt had regained consciousness (lucid state) then later still, noted latter’s subsequent deception (the façade). Mulling over the possible reasons Stark had kept a furtive eye on Brandt while he fought on then, deferring this concern for the more impending ploy, at a specific point in time drawing near to Svein, Stark shouted out a foreign sounding word to him.

 Following Svein’s barely discernible nod (his acquiescence) the swift coordinated assaults executed with such brilliant exactitude, once more forced Duan to shift to the defensive. Whilst he was being kept at bay, at an opportune moment at lightning speed Svein and Stark exchanged their weapons.

Presently, with his innate agility and speed, wielding the ancestor sword, Svein became even more indomitable (invincible).  Temporarily cast in dire straits, Duan summoned his most intrinsic powers and incredible zeal, however, to just barely stand his ground.

                                                                         ~                                                                             

All this time while remaining perfectly motionless, Brandt, his intense loathing of Stark fueling his resolve racked his brains till, he finally (hatched) arrived at the only plausible way to bring about a swift resolution to this maddening impasse. Mindful of the two poisoned stilettos concealed in the seams of his leather boots, he then biding his time, waited for an apt opportunity.

When the fighting eventually drew closer in proximity to Brandt, taking advantage of the fact that Duan’s total attention was focused on fending Svein and Stark’s synchronized, choreographed attacks, Brandt   nimbly sprung to his feet and rushed forth to with a lightening   thrust bury his stiletto (blade) deep into and up Duan's back.

"Damn your treachery!” Duan’s rancorous side glance pinpointing Brandt, he gasped.  “You’ll pay for this!” he licked the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth; but his malicious intent was interrupted when Brandt   nimbly veered, and instead, Svein’s deadly strike finding its mark, cut a line clear across (sliced right through) Duan’s chest and stomach.  Duan staggered on his feet for a second, then fell to the ground lifeless, his eyes bulging open and his mouth gaping with curses still frozen on his lips.  Covered in blood, his innards dangling, he looked (represented) a most gruesome sight. 

Brandt   with his bloody stiletto still poised to strike, in a surprise move just then, had adroitly jumped back way clear of the circle of combat and stood there defensively facing Svein.

"What's the meaning of this?” Stark raged at Brandt, effectively blocking Svein’s scathing rebuke.

"Let me finish him off, Uncle; his ruse is too obvious."” Svein glared at Brandt.  I’ve met him before, on my last trip to town, and trust me on this; he is no friend but a foe.”

 

"Sir, I beseech you.  Hear what I have to say, before condemning me." Brandt   interposed in a respectful, yet forceful tone, facing Stark while monitoring Svein from the corner of his eye. His conciliatory gesture of throwing his weapon aside at odds with his wry grin, he now grumbled. "Please allow me this opportunity to explain."

"Speak up, then!” Stark shouted sternly (austerely).

With a great show, Brandt bowed then crossed his clenched fists across his chest in show of humility, knowing that Stark, an honorable man by reputation, would not harm or allow another (Svein) to bring harm to an unarmed man.

 

(END OF SECTION 6)