LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 37

The passenger official, Ceroz Agripe had tried his utmost to keep his beloved wife alive, but her injuries being so grave, she did not live long.  After her (hastily improvised) impromptu funeral where her corpse also ended up in the river, the official Ceroz Agripe had remained in deep mourning and mostly sequestered in his cabin. He was naturally devastated and from then on incessantly mourned her loss. In his bereavement he ceased all communication and activity, as well, frequently refused any intake of sustenance (provisions, nourishment).

 

01- TORMENTED CEROS AGRIPE

He did not appear idle, rather, seemed to be contemplating something dire; meanwhile, he’d remained always in bad temper and often lashed out at the crew members, or whoever called on him. Ceroz’s angst (dread) and mounting heartache, meanwhile, had raised no alarms, as there were ample other more pertinent concerns and great deal still to do on aboard.

The infant’s death was attributed to crib-death, a common occurrence at that time, which often befell (occurred), one in every four babies. 

The official Luvet, despite Zunrogo's assurances, had also chosen most of the time to remain isolated (quarantined) in his cabin.  He had never had any dealings with Ceroz Agripe, yet at his wife Disaidun Agripe’s funeral, his blatant (unconcealed) hostility towards him, his intense (penetrating), fiery (blazing) antagonistic gaze (eyes), had both mystified and greatly alarmed official Luvet.  He’d subtly questioned Captain Zunrogo’s Lieutenant Tzan about this matter, but Lieutenant’s response had been less than satisfactory; moreover, his not so subtle, cryptic words had thence (thereafter) hunted Luvet’s peace. He could not shake the feeling that he’d somewhat been set up (accused, blamed for something he didn’t do) and ominously, a cruel, ignominious fate had awaited him. But how could he escape this impending catastrophe when he was constrained as passenger in a fair size vessel (craft, boat) temporarily stymied (because of necessary repairs) in the center of the vast expansive river, with the shoreline barely visible. He was not a competent swimmer and there was no small dinghy (dory, rowboat) on this cursed ship.  

 

Last few nights, burdened with deep concerns, Luvet had hardly touched his supper but drunk heavily to ease his mounting trepidation (fear, anxiety). Pacing back and forth across the room, he stayed up most of the evenings contemplating a plausible plan to ward off this impending disaster.  He could not shake the terrible foreboding in the crux of his being, that if not now, in matter of days, even if he succeeded in evading (escaping) the grave, lurking peril (danger, hazard, risk), his life would still be forfeited.

 

02- LUVET

                                                                 Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, meanwhile, from the very start, had refused to be sequestered in his cabin; not wishing to remain idle, he’d instead, had done his bit in expediting the mending of the ship.

Under Tizan's competent supervision, in no time at all the vessel had been made sail-worthy; hence, the fourth day at dawn, taking full advantage of the sudden rise of a north wind, they’d charted a course over the wide river that would bring them at a swift pace into the port city of Hanbrak, the river port immediately before the Capital city of Channing.

Once they had docked, Zunrogo and company were to precede post haste from then on, on horseback, to the Capital.

                                                                                  ~

 

Midway to reaching the port city of Hanbrak, no one other than Zunrogo, had anticipated the sudden and unexpected tragic turn of events.

In the dead of night, as all the other tired souls, including Fradel Rurik Korvald clutched their pillows in deep slumber; Ceroz Agripe suddenly snapping out of one of his catatonic (inert, withdrawn) states, had sat bolt upright and guardedly looked about him.

With wild gleam in his black pupils, he quietly rose from his bed and went over to pick up his sleeping baby. But the crib was empty, his precious Tait was not there, he’d gone missing!

Suddenly his memory served him a faint recollection, how in his anguished state, before the battle on board had started, trying to quieten the bawling (wailing) infant, he had pressed his precious boy to his chest and, tragically, smothered (suffocated) him.

“But when did they take him away? Where was Tait now?”

His mind once more becoming unhinged, his memory fogged, and he felt suddenly confused. He looked down at the empty crib, “There you are,” this time he clearly saw his precious boy Tait fast asleep.

03- BABY IN CRIB

Smiling, he gingerly picked up the small pillow, which he’d often used to protect the baby from the edge, his arms swaddling (enveloping) it, he held the precious cargo close to his chest.  Suddenly the baby was awakened and began to squeal.

“There, don’t cry Tait… Mommy will be here soon.” He gently rocked the bundle in his arms till the baby was quiet.

Bending his head, he gently kissed Tait’s forehead. His beautiful son seemed to be smiling at him. “Oh, you are such a good boy” He blew him another string of kisses.

Again, confusion set in, but just as quickly it went away; his mind was much clearer now, suddenly he knew what he must do.  Going over, he edged out the door of the cabin and locked it behind him.

 

Once in the dimly lit corridor, hugging the walls, he inaudibly crept two doors down to Luvet's cabin and quietly slipped inside.  Three paces into the room he stopped.  With the mad fire burning in his eyes, he quickly surveyed the immediate surroundings: his eyes momentarily rested on the table which was cluttered with dishes, food left uneaten, but there was the  discarded  wine stained cup, the empty wine jar tipped on its side; then he observed the stack of documents on the night table and the flickering oil lamp teetering dangerously over the edge; finally,  his gaze came to rest on the sleeping official.

Ceroz Agripe’s pulse again raced as the shiver of fuming rage and seething contempt rippled through him.

 

Gingerly, as if wary of waking his infant son from sleep, Ceroz put the precious bundle down in the plush, oversize chair in corner and, reaching into his left pocket, retrieved a long, red, silk cord.

 This crimson silk cord had been his former wife's favorite fashion accessory.  He took a shuddering breath as his gaze rested on it, recalling the multitude of purposes she had put it to.  Now it would serve a new purpose.

 He caressed it lovingly, touching it to his cheek, then to his pallid lips.  The lingering perfume it held misted his eyes with the memories it evoked, and he moaned softly in pain and dropped his head.

Abruptly anew the ire erupted in his chest, and he clenched the cord taut with indignation and bile until his knuckles whitened and cracked.

Just then Luvet stirred in his deep slumber, uttered some incomprehensible phrase, and then turned onto his side.  Ceroz was rooted to the spot, holding his breath as he considered his recourse should be the cursed official awake now and catch on to his presence in the room! 

Then, however, a lugubrious, loud snoring resounded in the air.

“Vile cur; how dare you sleep without a care…  Death is too good for the likes of you!”

 A wave of sickness, disgust and anger washed over Ceroz Agripe as he gritted his teeth.

“Your flesh should be ripped (torn) into minute pieces and fed to the wild dogs!  I swear, even if it is the last thing I do, I will gauge-out your eyes and stuff them up to …. where they belong.  Your manhood and your black heart I shall trample underfoot.  I will make certain that you will never be born again in any condition to defile a good, virtuous woman!”  He spat; his anger barely contained as he shivered once more.

His body was rocked with an all-consuming-wrath, and he clenched his fists to steady his steps as he determinedly approached Luvet.

 He stopped at hairsbreadth away from the edge of the bed.  His nostrils dilated as he glowered at the official; before him lay an ordinary official with plain nose, ordinary beard and mustache and typical lips, nothing special at all.  In the dim light, Ceroz noted how his reddish hair was scraggly (disheveled) and few strands hung loose at the sides.  There was nothing remarkable about him, nothing that would betray to an onlooker in the least his vile, contemptible nature.  There was no trace of inhumanity which Ceroz could detect in that oblong, rather impassive (blank) face, yet this mangy dog Luvet was assuredly the lowest of the lowest.

Surging contempt consumed Ceroz as he felt the bile rise in him once more.

05- CEROS AGRIPE -GONE MAD

In the next instant the cord looped around Luvet's neck and tightened with such unusual force that it bit two inches into his neck.  The convulsions of the struggling body were kept under control only by the application of Ceroz's total weight upon the dying man.

When Luvet finally expired, Ceroz drew from his other pocket the knife his wife had given him as her instrument of revenge.

 In the next few minutes, he set off to work, fulfilling his promises of defacement to the letter.  When he was done, he discarded the knife onto the table and stepped back.

As if now reconciled with the dead official, Ceroz smiled and calmly walked over to the corner to pick up the baby once more.  Going above deck, he moved slowly and serenely, looking as if he was merely taking the infant out for some air.

 Before any of the watch could realize his intention and stop him, he simply stepped over the edge of the boat and disappeared instantly in the foam of the wake.

 

“Man overboard…Man overboard!” In dead of night, the warning sounded.

 

But the vessel, as ordered, kept on (with its speed) going.  They could not have rescued him anyhow, even if they were any such order.  Driven by the strong northern wind, the vessel was moving way too fast to stop or try turning back, without grave risk to all.

The gruesome sight of Luvet's mutilated corpse was discovered soon after.  Without exception, every member of this rugged crew was chilled to the bone.  Enough incrimination evidence was left behind to leave no question as to the murderer's identity.

The motive was framed variously in everyone's mind but most chalked it up to simple insanity induced by the tragic loss of his beloved wife Disaidun Agripe, his infant boy Tait and the recent events, such as the terror and violence of the battle.

 It was generally determined that, being weak in nature already, Official Ceroz Agripe had simply cracked under pressure.  A few, however, speculated that the mutilation stemmed from the settling of an old grudge (score).  Some guessed that it was a crime of passion, and that the wife must have had an illicit affair with the bureaucrat Luvet.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) suspected that Zunrogo was somehow at the root of it all and despised him even more for it.  However, he had nothing solid on which to base his suspicions (allegations), therefore he buried his resentment and concentrated on the serious concerns that lay ahead of him once they reached the Capital.

06- TZAN JP

 Tzan, by piecing together the snippets of information and what he’d astutely observed, in the end discerned the true probable cause.   Tizan absently nodded as he wrapped up the pieces of the official's corpse; then with a sinister grin, he covertly eyed Zunrogo, telling himself to never ever for an instant let his guard down, to never underestimate (take too lightly) the captain’s capacity for ruthlessness, or misjudge in future Zunrogo’s devious powers of manipulation.

                                                                                        ~

 

               (END OF SECTION 37- END OF BOOK 8 – ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL)

 

(LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC EPIC STORY CONTINUES IN BOOK 9- THE CAPITAL CHANNING)

 

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)