LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 21

 When dawn broke Zunrogo promptly knocked at Fradel Rurik Korvald's door.

Permission granted, he entered with a smile on his lips, carrying a bundle in his hand, trailed by the servant boy, burdened with a generous array of breakfast victuals on a tray.

Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald had just finished his packing, having risen early in anticipation of this meeting.

01- ZUNROGO TUGO JP 4

After an exchange of polite greetings, "I took the liberty of ordering you a wholesome breakfast with local cuisine." Zunrogo grimaced, signaling the boy to put the tray on the table and to leave the room at once.

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Zunrogo advanced on Fradel and courteously presented him with the bundle, urging him to try it on.

"I thank you for your thoughtful gift but since I am already dressed…" Fradel could not resist teasing him.

Zunrogo abruptly halted his ready rebuke (and the persuasive argument on his tongue) when he noted the slight glint (twinkle) in Fradel's eyes and understood his jest.  Smiling, he evenly informed Fradel that his account had been settled in full and that, as soon as he was ready, they would depart.

Then, officiously declaring that he still needed to see some last-minute details, he headed out the door before Fradel could thank him for his troubles.

Back in his room, Zunrogo expediently wrapped up all the loose ends. The Innkeeper Kjeld Rosko, having received assurances from the captain himself that his captive family, including his adored infant son, would all be released the moment after their departure, nodded his head in gratitude and then contentedly left the room.

As Kjeld headed down the long hallway, however, a sudden concern clouded his face and he, abruptly for a spell, stayed his step; slight trepidation, almost a glint of fear, fleetingly registering in his pupils as he with lowered head deliberated on the Kozur’s viable rescue plan. “The captain, now there's someone to be reckoned with!”  Kjeld, nevertheless, could not hold back a shiver.

This business of the guard Tizan, however, staying behind to ensure that there was no disruption or deception, seemed reasonable yet; it still put Kjeld Rosko a bit on his unease. With each step, a kind of needling feeling that he could not rightly put a finger on, etched a deeper frown on Kjeld’s face.

“It nearly killed me to be so reticent (taciturn, aloof, quiet); but at least my disguise was effective. And when have the Kozurs ever failed me, or anyone? Now, stop all your needless worrying!” Kjeld admonished self.  Besides, he was certain they wouldn't dare try anything too drastic with Magistrate Liros there; but more importantly, fortuitously, he had the backing of Kozurs.

Kjeld’s fears, bit more assuaged (eased, lessened), he rushed his steps to meet the affiliate agent and possibly receive (acquiring) the long awaited, anticipated, good news, news that his family was safe and away from the perilous predicament. He would be joining them when this whole business was satisfactorily dealt with. Meanwhile, with the captain and his other brutes gone, this Tizan thug, then, could aptly be handled (properly deceived, duped) by the Kozurs. 

02- KJELD ROSKO WAITS FOR THE KOZUR AGENT

Having received secret notification, that the clandestine meeting would instead, take place in the (crypt) cellar, a covert room accessed only by a trap door well concealed behind the stacks of forte (specialty) wine barrels, Kjeld headed straight down there. As Kjeld in partial darkness waited for the agent to show up, seated at the table, his fingers nervously tapping the table, his wild imagination meanwhile carefully enumerated the last week’s odd events. Unbidden, one unsubstantiated fact suddenly snuck (stole) to mind and so, the worry lines once more got etched in his brow (forehead); nevertheless, he strove to ease his fears: “Besides, haven't I dealt with far worse situations and came out of it sailing?  In this line of business, it’s to be expected.  I just hope Leon makes good time, for then…” Kjeld looked at the door, nervous but still satisfied. “Yes, then I can still expect to be amply, if not well compensated for all my troubles and inconvenience. Pity, though, this place would be so destroyed!”

                                                                                 ~

Zunrogo was fastening his jeweled broadsword onto his waist when Tizan suddenly appeared at the door.  He beckoned the guard and signaled him to close the door.

 "Well, is everything all set?"

"Yes sir.  I'll be joining you on the road after the successful conclusion of my task."

"It is imperative that those in question be eliminated without a trace.  None are to survive, understand?"

"You needn’t warn me of its importance, sir." Tizan responded without a shred of conscience.  "Please go with an easy mind.  It (sudden explosion resulting in fire) will be made to look like an accident, warranting no investigation at all.  However, if you wish, I could plant certain incriminating evidence to involve…”

"No, that will not be necessary." The captain cut him off.  "Don't deviate from the original plan."

                                                                                   ~

After breakfasting and having sent his luggage on ahead, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel), now disguised as one of the palace guards, retrieved the papers from their hiding place and secured them in the inner pocket of his garb (uniform) that were, in fact, more comfortable and more suitable for traveling than his cumbersome, restrictive scholar's attire.

After a cursory look around to see to it that nothing was left behind, he closed the door quietly behind him and quickly descended the stairs.  Meeting the Captain in the lobby ready and waiting, he was then (shepherded) lead to the outside where men and horses awaited in readiness of the departure.

03- NEVETSECNUAC IN IMPERIAL UNIFORM

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had been forewarned to a certain degree that there would be two guards flanking him, along on the journey, with another to be joining them later, but these two who came to smart attention were not what he had expected.  One he had never seen before and the other.  His eyes rested on the figure of Briac, who had been disguised to look like scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 "I went along with your suggestion of wearing these clothes, sir, but this, this is intolerable!" Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) burrowed his cold gaze on the captain, not flinching.

This unexpected, irate, moral indignation from the supercilious scholar put Zunrogo (for a spell,) at a complete loss for words.

As Captain of the Palace Guards, the most elite force in Channing, and the secret member of the ruthless Black Band Guard, which was Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek’s personal militia, Zunrogo was the fourth most feared, most powerful, invincible warrior/statesman in Wenjenkun; right after Sovereign, the Minister of Internal Security Egil Vigoaries and The Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren.  No other had ever been so brazened enough to stand up to or, been in, least defiance of Zunrogo and lived; more astonishingly still, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), with his features set in firm defiance obdurately had demanded an explanation from Zunrogo.

“Are you goading (provoking) me; do you have a secret wish for death?”

"Sir, this is where I draw the line.” Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) undaunted by Zunrogo’s menacing glower, (look of daggers) obstinately grumbled. “I will not, in all good conscience, have another’s life be put in jeopardy on account of me!"

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was stanchly (resolutely) considering, rescinding their prior arrangement when the captain, with a curt gesture of his hand, silenced him and roughly pulled him aside. Pinning his face right into Fradel’s, Zunrogo, gritting his teeth, threatened: "You would have been instantly slayed, chopped down for this insubordination; now act like a proper soldier (guard) or else!”

But then, quickly curtailing his fiery temper, in a more moderate tone, Zunrogo reasoned: “I know how it looks, but I assure you, sir, it is necessary."  His cutting tone, nevertheless, was a warning to Fradel, to back off, that, if necessary, he would be carried off, trussed, and bound.

Bearing in mind that he was supposed to be an arrogant but a mild-mannered scholar, Nevetsecnuac (as Fradel), biting his lip, he now checked his derisive (scornful) rebuke.  At that juncture (point in time), a low murmur drew his attention to the side door of the inn.  Nevetsecnuac’s keen eyes caught a fleeting shadow just before the individual darted inside and completely disappeared.  He let it pass.

"I thought you said that there was no real danger," more composed now, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) turned to address Zunrogo.

"Less for them than you," Zunrogo answered irritably, indicating Briac with his chin.  Raising his voice slightly, on pretext, he admonished Fradel, "Now, sir, I will not have you undermining my authority and demoralizing my men with all your questions."

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) checked his temper as well, understanding at once that the rebuke was more for the benefit of his double and that there was something graver at stake here.

“Briac, the guard chosen to impersonate you, is the one best suited for this.  His selection was made only after serious consideration."  Zunrogo shifted his body slightly, shielding his face from the view of the guards.  He looked meaningfully at Fradel Rurik Korvald, his gaze and fierce eyes speaking the words that could not be freely uttered, darkness, treachery; furthermore, it warned, stay out of what does not concern you; this turncoat (collaborator) will soon get just his desserts.

Comprehending, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) turned and looked at Briac with an impassive, blank expression. The guard's face completely ashen, his’s eyes at first looked strangely pained and grave then got filled with loathing when they met Fradel's, after which, he lowered his head abjectly.

Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) returned his expressionless gaze back to Zunrogo, who’d this entire period scrutinized him like a hawk with the cruel half-smile plastered on his lips.  Behind the Captain's seemingly stern mask, his eyes betrayed a profound, impenetrable darkness carrying a brutal, implicit threat not only for Briac but also for Fradel.

04- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC) IN ARMY UNIFORM

Unflinching, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) affably (genially) smiled at Zunrogo and he, relenting, perfunctorily smiled back. But underneath the seeming cordiality, Zunrogo pondered. “Yes, you are more than what you seem.  You are no ordinary scholar.  Your aim is much higher. I will therefore watch you, watch you very carefully, Fradel Rurik Korvald, or whatever your real name may be.  It bothers me greatly when I can see that you are not afraid of death, but I will find out the reason why, before this expedition concludes.”

Outwardly tranquil, as if his prior ambiguity had allayed (dispelled), Zunrogo nodded, "I'm glad we finally understand each other; now we can quickly put all this unpleasantness behind us and amicably proceed; as I am most anxious to get started on this trip."

Turning, Zunrogo signaled (cued) the groom to bring forth Briac’s strong steed, inclined his head politely and invited (disguised) Fradel Rurik Korvald to mount up.

 Alternately, Briac was helped by one of the grooms, to mount Scholar Fradel’s relatively inferior mare.

 

                                                                                   ~

(END OF SECTION 21)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 16

 At a safe distance Nevetsecnuac brought the horse to a halt, with a purpose of discarding the load of game into a roadside ditch to unburden the horse and gain more speed. Suddenly however, from the far-away dense forest’s edge, he spotted a woodcutter emerging and inclined to do a good turn, spurred the horse off the road and over the rougher terrain towards him.

01- LOOKING AT THE WOODS

 Nevetsecnuac hailed the woodsman, then halted his mount at hearing range of the other; catching his eye, he then graciously inclined his head and after a polite greeting, pointed at the load of game at the back of the mare and next, generously offered the woodcutter, as gift, the entire load of game.

The stalwart, middle-aged tall man, hardly believing his ears, dropped his bundle of firewood and rushed forward enthusiastically to accept the load (furs and carcasses) that Nevetsecnuac had offered him.

At midpoint of his advance, however, the man's face suddenly, unexpectedly clouded over with deep concern and, abruptly halting his step, he locked both arms to his sides.  Shaking his head in adamant refusal, he knitted his brows and, sizing Nevetsecnuac up and down with suspicion, dubiously asked, "And why should you want to do that…us, being strangers and all that?"

His meaning was all too clear, and his tone spoke volumes.  He was accusing Nevetsecnuac of theft or even worse.

02-WOODSMAN 2

Nevetsecnuac, who was about to dismount and unpack the load from the horse, hesitated, a dark shadow crossing his face and he presently regretted his prior decision not to simply discard the game at the roadside.  As it were, another in his place, finding the woodcutter's scrutiny unwarranted and his suspicions highly offensive, would have at least berated the wretch on the spot for his ungrateful and rude conduct.

 Nevetsecnuac, however, had remarkably constrained his deep disappointment and disregarding the slight (slur) , had inclined his head to first introduce himself, using an alias he had concocted on the spot; then, with eloquence and dignity, strove to allay (dispel) the woodcutter’s fears and qualms by assuring latter (other) that the game had been honestly attained. The only hindrance, however, lay in Nevetsecnuac’s inability to invent, a most plausible explanation as to, why he would hunt so much game just to discard it all away to mere stranger in the middle of nowhere.

Highly suspicious woodcutter’s response by rights should not have been that much of a surprise; characteristically, with eyes narrowed, snarling, woodcutter had typically just then burst, “What do you take me for? I’m not a simpleton in some border town you can easily manipulate! No, I won't buy any of this.  You're most definitely up to no good and, if I were to accept this booty (as your accomplice,) it will surely land me in serious trouble.  You don't even talk like a hunter.  You're no common man, more like a …”  He paused briefly as his mind searched for words like academic, official, scholar?  “And you're certainly not from these parts.  There's no use denying it, I've lived here practically all my life.  You're definitely not from here and you're most certainly up to some mischief."  With each utterance his voice had become louder and (threatening) hostile then, brandishing his axe, he menacingly stepped forward and (spitting venom, simply) glared at Nevetsecnuac.

"I may be a rough woodcutter to you, but I can still fight as well as any seasoned squaddie (soldier, private, warrior).  Go find yourself another stooge to pin your heinous crimes on."  As he spoke, the man was inwardly cursing the infirmities heaped on him by his hard existence.  “In my heyday (prime), I'd overcome this brute in an instant; then, thief that he is, I could’ve turned him over to the authorities and get me a big, fat reward, instead of uttering idle threats and wasting my breath.” He inwardly scoffed (jeered).

"As you wish,” Nevetsecnuac was beginning to lose patience; but then on second thought, he again forced constraint on his temper and ejected evenly, "I'm sorry if I have unintentionally caused you unwarranted trepidation and much undue anxiety, sir.  Please accept my sincerest apologies.  I will trouble you no longer."

03- NEVETSECNUAC THE HUNTER 14- JP

 Nevetsecnuac steered (turned, coxed) his mount around to leave this ungrateful woodcutter; his intention was to discard the amassed game, carcasses, secured on the back of the mare, somewhere else, anywhere but here, and further along the route the better.

The shrewd and lithe (nimble) woodcutter, meanwhile, had vacillated in his resolve, though only for a spell, regretting his hasty rebuff.  “Could he have misjudged this youth? He should have trusted his prior instinct, instead of letting fear and disbelief cloud his judgement, perhaps erroneously. But no,” his stubborn heart rebuffed it; his inner caution resurfacing again. 

“Why should he make me such a generous gift, unless there is mischief involved?”

His brain colluding (scheming) had rattled on, while machinating thoughts alongside registering in lightning speed, forced his mind to further consider all aspects with more clarity and depth, to arrive at sly plot.

Certainly, game was prevalent in the mountains, but the land was equally perilous and riddled with pitfalls and the amount of game the solitary hunter had had with him, as competent as he appeared, still told of at least a week's worth of effort.  Why should the hunter discard it all, when he could easily make a handsome profit for the lot, in town?  

Then again, with his (woodcutter’s) own meager sustenance, why should he let this good fortune pass him by?  Heaven had delivered this into his calloused hands, would it not be better to invite the hunter to his shack, drug and then deliver (deposit) him bound and gagged before the authorities?  Why should he, because of prudence (caution and fear), let this golden opportunity slip through his fingers? Yes, the trick may well work; he had just enough belladonna left, after the last use.

For a moment his heart was downcast, thinking how he’d worked so hard to bury his past, endured so much in this isolated corner… but still that brute had tracked him down then dared to threaten to expose him….  The Woodcutter had just then momentarily shifted focus onto the deep, ugly scar on his left hand; an involuntary shudder just then rippled through him, recollecting that last spontaneous act and the consequential perilous brush with death. He had got exactly what he deserved!  The Woodcutter inwardly hissed then shook his head to expunge all those unwelcome thoughts, forcing his attention to the present situation. In the end he nodded his head, having decided already on how to deal with this present dilemma, then with incredible agility of a wildcat, rushed at once, with open arms (with one arm still holding the axe however), showing he meant no harm, to stoically (with stoicism) block the hunter’s path.

With the fire in his eyes burning with steel determination and, his left hand still gripping the axe, the woodcutter stonily stared up at Nevetsecnuac for a time, his unruly mind, meanwhile, racing with new possibilities.  Just as quickly however, his focus snapped back to present reality and with unreadable expressions on his face then, his eyes betraying nothing, however, his voice carrying urgent, apologetic tone, he yowled (yelped) at the mounted youth: "Wait! Please wait!”

With uncanny agility and stubbornness, he next rushed forward to tug at the hunter’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) trouser leg.  "I…I do apologize.  Please forgive me, generous sir.  I lost my head there for a spell.  Times are hard, very hard, and one can't be too careful these days, you know.  You could have been a government agent, secret police, some spy, or simply an affiliate henchman. How could I, a poor old woodcutter with failing eyesight, decipher the truth anymore?  Everything is getting more secretive; more complex all the time.  Please don't hold my blunder against me.  I know now in my heart that I've done you grievous wrong and for that I'm truly, deeply ashamed.  Say that you forgive me."  He entreated (implored) Nevetsecnuac in seeming sincerity, giving him no chance to respond.

"I discern now that you're an honest chap." The woodcutter incessantly continued with his honeyed words. "So, let us put aside these obvious misunderstandings, all right?  I will graciously accept your most generous gift.  You must permit me, in return, to repay your kindness and, as well, atone for my mistakes.  Why don't you come with me for a hot meal?  My wife is a good cook and can prepare a dozen or so savory dishes in the blink of an eye.  The way you're heading, you won't see an inn or hostel for at least three, five days’ ride.  Please accept a hot meal and a night's lodging from this old man."

“Savory dishes; an odd choice of words for a crude (an unsophisticated) woodsman(woodcutter). I doubt he even has a wife.”  Nevetsecnuac, losing patience, but only inwardly, coolly rebuffed (snubbed); then outwardly shaking his head, in an even tone just stated that he could not unfortunately spare the time and with a definite no nonsense demeaner, spurred his horse forward.

The old man, forced aside, immediately dropped all pretenses and with his dark countenance, grinding his teeth, once more hurled curses and treats after Nevetsecnuac.

04- WOODSMAN

Checking his rising fury, Nevetsecnuac reminded himself that the woodsman (woodcutter) was only a victim of his circumstances, was acting out of fear and therefore not entirely responsible for his erratic behavior; nevertheless, with sadness gripping his heart, he half turned to take one last long look at the enraged woodsman, and with just a slight nod of his head he calmly  bid him farewell, then simply rode off into distance.

 He did not look back nor lend an ear to the mounting torrent of abuse and curses let loose (heaped after him) by the highly incensed, indignant woodsman.

                                                                         ~

Riding into the distance, Nevetsecnuac was for a time (spell) despondent (downhearted) and also bit concerned that the old man might report this incident to the authorities, until; he reminded himself that, the rest of his journey would be spent under the alias of Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Later, with twilight (dusk, sunset) fast approaching, at some distant spot, as he discarded the pelts (furs) and carcasses (meat) of game into a gravel ditch, he quietly admonished himself for his careless act of going out of his way to do a good turn and, for being too trusting.

“You must harden your heart if you are to succeed.” Zonar's cryptic warning suddenly came to mind.

 Nevetsecnuac nodded, thus resolved to follow that good counsel.

05- NEVETS ON HORSEBACK

With the load lightened and the road ahead flat and featureless, Nevetsecnuac, with one fluid motion, mounted the mare and taking up the reigns, spurred her into a full gallop. For several hours, they rode like the wind, with the mare's hooves barely touching the ground, covering great distances even though the darkness had encroached on the land.

Nevetsecnuac would have ceaselessly continued riding all night long till down, since the ominous clouds had  by now been quickly swept away with the relentless winds, allowing the starry sky with full moon, to perfectly illuminate the desolate (remote segment of state highway) thoroughfare; however, for his mount’s sake (mare not being Fiery Comet), they halted at a safe spot for a brief respite and for (intake of) sustenance.

                                                                            ~

 

(END OF SECTION 16) 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 31

On the appointed day at cockcrow the quiet city streets were rocked by the marching of armed guards, some decked out in full armor as though going into battle, and the rumbling, creaking crunch of the heavy iron mobile cage, hauled by two sturdy workhorses.  Heading up this procession was the mounted Hecun.

01- PRIONER TRANSPORT IN IRON CAGE

 The few vendors who opened up shop early rubbed their sleepy eyes and complained then craned their necks and sharpened their stares with interest when they awakened to the procession's significance.

 The barking of a stray dog accompanied the guards until a cast-off broom whisk landed on its muzzle and sent the beast scurrying off with sharp yelps.

 Leaving the gates of Denor City and the stir they had created behind, the long train forked off from the major highway and continued its snaking route through the undulating hills and valleys surrounding the city.  Hecun drove his men relentlessly, hastening them towards their destination, fearful that the prisoner would not survive a long ordeal.

The summer season was almost at an end and the gusts of easterly winds often arose out of nowhere to thrash the faces of the horsemen as the mounting, dark clouds sailed on continuously like an endless armada of war across the gloomy sky, driving the sun away into hibernation.

For the next two days the torrential rains soaked them to the bone as the uneven, slippery mud paths compounded the difficulties of this already arduous journey.  Any idea Hecun had of a swift advance was soon discarded.  The flat lands were turned into seascapes and in the bare hills the greatest danger was from sudden mud slides, which could bring half the hillside down onto the road in seconds.  Hecun's party apprehensively passed through this dangerous zone, too, until the rain tapered off to a light drizzle.

Looking out across the long, sodden grasses that flanked their path laid low by the weight of the water on their leaves then turning his gaze skyward to the menacing, mounting clouds roiling in the gray sky, threatening to begin the deluge anew, the Head Bailiff Hecun sighed repeatedly.

“This is possibly the worst season to undertake this journey,” He grumbled. “Heat on one hand, torrential rains on the other.” 

His dismal thoughts turned to the prisoner, locked up in the cage, it only opened a small hole in the upper left side which allowed food and water to be dropped in.  Shrugging his shoulders dispassionately, he mused, “He's the only one shielded from this blasted rain, but at what cost?  Confined in that restrictive, suffocating space, rotting in his piss and excrement…  Thankfully, I’m not that wretch.”

He stretched his limbs in appreciation. “That stupid Temple…  That trespassing charge is unwarranted after all this time.  Why not petition His Royal Highness to have that unjust law rescinded or amended?  Or just has the cursed place leveled or scorched to the ground so that it can't entrap or injure anyone else?  How many more lives will be wasted needlessly because of it?”

Hecun inhaled deep. At least the rain had finally stopped. As he rode on, his thoughts once more reverted to prior concern.

“How many times have I sounded out my reasoning to the Prefect… time after time without success?  He just turned a deaf ear to me.  It's all too convenient for him, isn't it, to keep things just the way they are?  After all, if he were to heed my suggestion, he would be hard pressed to fabricate another trap to rid himself of his enemies or other unwanted pests so conveniently.  I was a fool to even waste my breath.  Things never change.  It’s the same everywhere.  I really should try to mend my ways and still my tongue; I should be more like Mouro, so as to avert future disasters. Would it work if I utilized akin underhanded means as Mouro? I wonder though, how many more innocent souls like this scholar will be ensnared in future; how can I idly stand by and do nothing about it? Would my conscience (ethics) let me? “

But then Head Bailiff Hecun suddenly became aware of disturbance at the rear of the column.  Wheeling his horse round, he shouted, "What's all the commotion about back there?  And why aren’t you moving?"

"Look, sir.  Look!"  One of the panic-stricken guards pointed left to the menacing, fearsome mounted warrior figure at the hilltop.

Turning his head, Hecun looked up at the indicated spot.  His soul nearly took flight.  This was the sight he most dreaded seeing.  Mounted atop a black coal horse, standing like a crown on the crest of the hill, was the majestic, formidable figure of Zonar!

Swallowing his fright, Hecun dispensed the orders at once for the men to surround the prisoner's cage, draw their swords in readiness of a strike, and make haste to the more defensible ground to the right.

"Remember men, despite his formidable appearance, he's only flesh and blood.  He can be bested, just like any other mortal man." Hecun shouted his encouragement along the way.

"He's also pitted against two hundred of us.  We'll make him taste a bitter defeat if he dares to attack us.  We'll show him what we're made of!"

These men (guards) were all hand-picked by Hecun and Mouro to ensure the success of this assignment.  All were seasoned warriors, capable of either mounting a strong, sustained attack or fighting a pitched defense with equal ease.

02-  ZONAR

Irrespective of this, however, the foe facing them now looked so menacing, struck such awe into their hearts that, as they assumed their defensive positions and waited for the dreaded confrontation, many once proud warriors entertained thoughts of dropping their arms and fleeing (running off) to safety, but all knew that at the first sign of desertion they would be cut down by Hecun or by one of their own comrades.  Even if they succeeded in their cowardly flight, they would be wanted men forever forsaking their homes and host of loved ones, the parents, wives, brothers, sisters and children who depended on them.

“What's he waiting for?” Hecun nervously tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword when the anticipated rush of the assassin still did not come.

“What’s his game?  Is he waiting for night to fall?  It may well be his tactic to wage war on our nerves first.  It would therefore be to our advantage to combat him now, while the morale of the men is still high.”  With this in mind Hecun, loudly reviled Zonar from his safe distance, challenging him, trying to draw him into a fight; meanwhile, emboldened by Zonar's lack of response, his men also joined in with added verbal abuse and taunts.

 “What, still no response?”  Though he had been tempted, Hecun knew enough not to divide his force and initiate the offensive when the opponent held the high ground. Instead, Hecun quickly dispatched four of his archers, armored with overlapping plates of laminated bronze which gave maximum protection and freedom of movement, to (in roundabout way) get closer to Zonar and let loose a volley.

The remaining men watched in horror as, the arrows loosed straight at his chest, Zonar swept his hand in front of him with lightning speed, caught the arrows and, using no bow, launched them back full force through the armor and into the hearts of the hapless archers.  As his black steed reared up, Zonar let loose an earth-shaking, ear-splitting laughter.  This made the hair on the back of all the guards’ necks stand up as their blood simultaneously froze in their veins.

The next moment, in an unexpected move, however, Zonar had wheeled his horse round and in the blink of an eye disappeared from view.

Far from being relieved, every man in the command had realized in that instant that they would not stand a prayer of a chance in any direct encounter with this demon.  And that they were, for the time being safe, so long as Zonar was only toying with them.

In the following days and nights, the guards kept up with their constant vigilance (did not dare drop their guard for one second) and in securing the prisoner; consequently, they were robbed of least respite and peace of mind.  On (perpetual) assiduous alert, every guard with taut nerves constantly panned the surrounding hills, the vast fields and valleys with fear filled eyes, anticipating and dreading the imminent mortal encounter with Zonar.

A few of the more disgruntled were in the process of conspiring to mutiny, to murder Hecun and turn the prisoner over without the least resistance, when Zonar again suddenly (appeared) manifested but after a spell, just as quickly disappeared. 

 

                                                                                      ~

 

As Hecun's guards had remained on high alert pending a surprising dire onslaught from Zonar, Micen Do back in the comfort of his study, had just settled down to, forsaking the tea, enjoying some delectable salty tidbits on the tray. His mind totally at ease, Micen remained quite certain that he had, with his brilliant ploy, outmaneuvered the grizzly-haired demon.

 It was the middle of the afternoon on an unusually hot day and Micen, now feeling parched, just put aside a document he had been studying, looked up and was about to send for some cool refreshments when, “What the devil?”

 In a chair at the far corner of the room, casually seated and reading from an ancient scroll, sat Zonar; this sight instantly, therefore, froze the subsequent words on Micen's tongue.

Though Micen was mesmerized by fright at first, the casual, indifferent attitude of the assassin, completely immersed in the ancient literature, put the Prefect somewhat termporarily at ease.  He was not reconciled to dying and eyed the door, contemplating which course would be faster, calling for help from the five guards posted outside or making a dash for the door.

03- ZONAR KUNTZU

Micen’s blood turned to ice in his veins when just then Zonar looked up, and their eyes met.  Next instant, before Mucen could utter a single sound, he was cleaved clean through from top to bottom… For Zonar's gleaming sword had cut him into two perfect halves.

As Micen's right half watched with its waning eye, the left side collapsed onto the desk, dispersing a pile of documents.  Zonar instantly recognized Fradel Rurik Korvald's actual identity papers and summons, fallen three-quarters of the way out of a parchment envelope and, reaching for it, disappeared in the last beat of Micen's heart.

The secretary, coming into the room minutes later with some documents, made the grisly discovery and so alerted the household.  The news of Micen's assassination spread like wildfire throughout Denor City and the entire prefecture and all citizens rushed indoors, apprehensive about their own mortality.

 

                                                                                    ~

 

After an arduous, apprehensive trek, Hecun and his guard regiment at long last escorted the prisoner to the border crossing at Danlo Pass.  The disgruntled, weary group finally relaxed their vigil only after they had confirmed, from the border guards, that no person matching Zonar's name or description had preceded them across the border.  Accordingly, they relayed their warnings to the border patrol to be on the alert for such dangerous assassin, and to arrest or apprehend him on sight, if they were capable of doing so.

"You're the second group in five days that has made in depth inquiries after such a person." the border guards professed, scratching their heads.  "However, the others said nothing about him being a wanted criminal."

When Hecun ascertained that they were referring to Mouro's group, he was concurrently, both pleased and offended. He spoke thoughtfully to the sergeant Tubak that was riding alongside him. “It's not like Mouro to be so remiss.  Other, more serious concerns must have preoccupied his mind though, for the life of me, I cannot imagine what they could be.  He never disclosed to me the nature of his urgent task, not really.  But it’s just like him to be this evasive.  Now I think of it, those last two or three days he'd seemed rather more irritable than usual.”

Hecun had abruptly fallen silent at this moment, as he inwardly mused: “True, we've been good friends for a long time now, and I am fond of him.  Still, I cannot boast that I’ve fully understood him.  I know no more about him now than I did when I first met him.  When he was in such desperate straits I did set him on the straight course, welcomed him to my home, and even helped him get that job.  I remember how I watched in amazement as he, always an apt student, fully subdued all opposition and managed to ingratiate himself in the good graces of the Governor and Micen.  He even managed to pull off something I've never been able to do and curry favor with that stand-offish, condescending Luko clan.”

With a twinge of jealousy in his heart, Hecun now disdainfully further recalled how Mouro's ambitious undertakings had paid off.  Within a year's time Mouro, despite his youth and considerable inexperience, had taken advantage of his superior martial abilities, if one believed the official explanation, to bypass Hecun and win the promotion meant for (the Head Bailiff) him.

Annoyed only at first, Hecun, nevertheless, soon realized that it would be more to his advantage to remain on good terms with his new superior, than to become his adversary.

Besides, Hecun had found it awfully hard to refute Mouro's congenial qualities and his gracious side.  He certainly could not deny that Mouro had also reciprocated his previous kindness in full, and countless times had bailed him out of trouble with Micen. 

Mouro had also filled another desperate void in Hecun's life by fitting snugly into the shoes of the bailiff's deceased younger brother.  Hecun now recalled fondly also how, when they were alone, Mouro had respected and treated Hecun as the elder brother, but the closeness had remained chiefly one-sided. Not being the type to bear his soul to anyone, Mouro had constantly guarded his privacy and history even from him (Hecun), letting it be known only that he was born a native of Tenzo Province.

"Five days, eh, this is good."  Hecun, well across the border, was in better spirits and gloated to his subordinate (sergeant) Tubak.  "Why, that means that, despite all the setbacks we've suffered, we've still made pretty good time, especially considering that they're riding swift horses on a straight highway, and I'm pretty certain that they encountered no bandits like we did, or that assassin, Zonar.  Mouro would not have missed a chance to boast of it to those border guards."

"Yes, sir…  We were rather fortunate that he chose not to engage us after that first sortie.  Even so," the sergeant dismally hung his head, "the threat of confronting him again was still enough to drive many good men to contemplating desertion... pity."

"Are you blatantly aligning your sympathies with those cowards?  Their desertion seriously undermined our capacity to confront that gangster Lurin and his lawless bunch!" Hecun stormed.  "Perhaps it was your intention to desert as well?"

04- SERGEANT TUBAK

"Sir ...  I'd never ever considered such a thing!" the sergeant contested vehemently.  "Forgive my audacity for speaking as I did just then.  My thoughts were of Yozder, he was ordinarily a good sort.  Not too long ago he lost his wife in a tragedy.  Now his five young children, the oldest is only nine, are left without any means of support, and only Yozder's invalid aunt to care for them.  I could not help grieving for what will become of them now."  He hung his head, but his sidelong glance at Hecun framed his unspoken question, couldn’t you have, just this once, bent the rules just a little?  Why did they all have to perish?

Hecun fumed, "I'm not such a heartless man as you make me out to be, sergeant, but rules are rules.  The deserters knew full well what they were getting themselves into.  They got nothing more nor less than, what they deserved.”

“Remember, because of them we were all put at risk.  How can I expect strict obedience in the future from the rest if I showed leniency or, worse, made an exception?  Regulations in militia must be strictly adhered to, so that men can feel secure.  Your grievance against me is totally unfounded, sergeant, and I counsel you to think hard before airing your thoughts to me again."  After this rebuke, Hecun angrily spurred his horse toward the iron cage, ignoring his subordinate's gobbed (spat, expelled) apologies.

“That's more than I can say for this poor wretch.  Despite his innocence, he's been ensnared in an unjust law and is now being made to suffer for it.” Hecun grumbled to himself.

 His thoughts then turned to more immediate concerns, “Why hadn’t Zonar struck and vanquished them when he had them at his mercy?  Why had those bandits attacked just after they were through Danlo Pass?”

Hecun recalled presently what he had heard distinctly some of the gang members had said, as they attempted to seize (snatch) the iron cage.

 “But what on earth made them think that we were carrying gold in the cage, instead of a criminal?”

 

Now that they were inside Tenzo Province the general consensus was that the worst had been left behind them, nevertheless Hecun opted for caution and closely followed the course Mouro had charted out for him.

Their subsequent laborious advance took them through difficult terrain, over uneven paths that were often carpeted in vegetation that had withered in the dry heat and choked with debris blown in by the driving gusts of wind.  Beneath their concealment lay a multitude of dangers for horses and riders alike.

Rounding yet another sharp turn, Hecun shielded his eyes and gazed questioningly over the sharp precipice that loomed just ahead.  To his dismay the distant canyon, shrouded in twilight, disclosed no signs of human habitation.

“Was it conceivable that Mouro had miscalculated the details of the supposed settlement nestled in this valley's forest? Their water rations had been getting dangerously low in this high, arid region and there was no reprieve in sight. “Hecun, grimly hence, anticipated even more desertions among his disgruntled guards.

Taking out Mouro's map, he studied it once more.  A small mark indicated the ruins of a monastery close by.

 “Hmm…If there are wells, there will certainly be water there. “

 Hope sprung up anew in Hecun's heart.  Since dusk was fast approaching, Hecun resolved to set up camp at the monastery and so dispatched scouts in three directions to locate it.

    

                                                                                  ~

 

(END OF SECTION 31)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION -16

FIERY COMET

At sunrise Fradel was nudged awake by Fiery Comet.  After washing his hands and face once more and helping himself to some dry rations, Fradel begrudgingly mounted Fiery Comet, expecting the worst.  Surprisingly, this time around, the stallion's pace was more moderate and only picked up speed once again, after a short noon recess.

With Fiery Comet's consistently high velocity, the odd and changing times of day they traveled and the short cuts the steed took through untamed wilderness, Fradel was unable to precisely determine the length of time or the distance they had covered.  Only the changing of the seasons, the brisker temperatures and the thinning air of higher altitudes gave Fradel the abstract notion that four months had elapsed since he had undertaken this long, arduous trek.

Endowed with good health to begin with, the trials of this journey had left their indelible mark on Fradel, transforming the once weak, pampered individual that he once was, into one now stronger, tougher, more resilient and rugged.  His bearing and appearance also attested to this change.

FRADEL RIDING THE FIERY COMET

 In the beginning he had tried to maintain his civilized appearance and form by constant trimming of his hair and beard and by refusing to give in to the barbaric practices the wilds of nature had repeatedly inflicted upon him.  Obsessively clean, Fradel frequently showered in the rainstorms or bathed in the rivulets and pools they encountered.  But gradually, being of a practical mind, he had condescended to roughing it in the wild.

 In a relatively short time, he had adjusted to sleeping under a blanket of stars and bearing the increasingly severe, bone-chilling night temperatures.  Putting into using his extensive knowledge of botany, he supplemented his rations from the start with sustenance of wild roots, nuts, fruits and berries.  To add variety, he had even taught himself to snare a small game, which Fiery Comet obligingly herded into his makeshift traps.

 Like a kindred spirit to the original settlers of this land, Fradel became quite adept at skinning, cleaning and then cooking these small animals over an open fire.  Sometimes, as he was washing his meals, Fradel would gaze at his reflection in a still pond, noting his long beard and disheveled hair, and laugh boisterously.

03- FRADEL ROUGHING IT

 “Ha!  If those pompous, literate friends of mine could see me now!  Would they say such lofty things about the dignity of natural man?  They would be horrified!  Yet, I've never felt better, more alive, in my life.”

Sometimes, at the conclusion of his bathing, he would spread himself on the dry grass carpet of the riverbank and bask under the golden rays of the autumn sun as he let his adventurous spirit soar into the sky.  With a trembling heart he envisioned how, one day, he would gain the necessary skill and perhaps become as accomplished a fighter as his sworn brother, Nevetsecnuac.

 "Beware, then, all you wicked men!" he would shake his fist into the air.  His optimistic nature resisted any notion of a dismal fate for either himself or Nevetsecnuac.  He saw, parading before his mind's eye, Nevetsecnuac at the (head) lead of a great army of a million men, sweeping across the land, vanquishing all opposition and ridding this stricken, teetering nation of the pernicious, parasitic, bureaucratic vermin that were picking its bones.  Subsequently, lasting peace, stability, justice, then the rule of law and order would be restored to Wenjenkun under the wise and benevolent rule of Emperor Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir. 

"I will serve you faithfully, my Prince, until my dying day." he would sit up, fist over heart, and renew his vow.

By then a bond of mutual respect had developed between the scholar and the stallion, though Fiery Comet's stubborn will had, at times, tried Fradel's patience. Because the snow came earlier to the high altitudes and they were, by now, well out of reach of any serious danger, Fiery Comet abandoned the mountainous slopes and opted in favor of following the more level topography of the valley.  From time to time as the opportunity presented itself, and always guided by the stallion’s intuition, they took a reprieve at remote inns that infrequently crossed their path.

Still, at other times, Fiery Comet was alerted to some danger and refused to stop, breaking into a day-long gallop to bypass these establishments entirely.

These all too frequent periods between inns always spelled renewed hardship for Fradel, when his rations would be depleted, and he would be constrained to improvise and forage for sustenance as he had learned to do before.  He bore these difficulties without complaint, as he had learned for himself how true Nevetsecnuac's council regarding this horse had been.

NEVETSECNUAC

 

(END OF SECTION 16)