LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 22

The following morning, Fradel Rurik Korvald(Nevetsecnuac) and Yenis Luko  woke at dawn and, after their ablutions, ate some dry rations and then  readied the luggage.   Leading the horse by the bridles (reins) with Yenis mounted in the saddle, Fradel negotiated their way down the sodden path which was occasionally blocked by moss covered rocks or fallen tree limbs; once out of the periphery of the forest, Fradel still holding onto (halters) straps and on feet, guided the horse onto the highway in the direction of Wincox City. They had not gone far, however, before they were suddenly surrounded (ambushed) by some seventy-to eighty-mounted guards (constabularies) armed with lances (spears) who’d raced to encircle them.

One of the guards reaching out grabbed her arm and dismounted her; she was roughly thrown on to the ground and landed on her rear, next to Fradel (Nevetsecnuac). Fortunately, her physical state, being sturdier than it looked, had suffered no ill effects. Ignoring Fradel’s concerned queries, unexpectedly just then, Yenis, fell on her knees before the captain and pleaded for mercy but all her entreaties (implorations) went unneeded by the stone-faced Captain who, instead, refusing to listen to any reason, hurled threats and obscenities at both Fradel and Yenis, while his men loutishly bound and gagged Fradel and Yenis then tossed (threw) them both into an iron cage mounted on a wagon, to be carted into the city’s prison. 

Along the way, Yenis, shaking from head to toe like a leaf, all curled up in a ball in the corner of the cage, whimpered pitifully till at one point she simply passed out; however, the scornful guards simply sneered and refused to check in on her condition.  As it was, under the guise of a scholar, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), had been constrained from using his martial prowess to extricate them from this trouble; hence, he’d meekly surrendered to this grave injustice. 

Surely the matter would be clarified at Court, soon enough. Nevetsecnuac had mistakenly supposed (assumed).

 Upon reaching their destination, however, the prisoners were then hustled into a dark, damp and dreary dungeon where they were immobilized in a pillory and locked up for the night.

The following morning, Magistrate Turo of Birgergon County, having set aside the documents from his other, minor cases, was examining Fradel's papers in detail when he suddenly grew flushed in the face.

"This is no simple matter of trespassing.  One cannot just sentence him to death and have done with it."  With a grave visage he sprang to his feet and rushed off at once to his private chamber back where he summoned his subordinates and confidants to a conference.

"The emperor’s edict, which has stood for these last twenty years, allows no exception." He summed up after the briefing.  "Yet how could we prosecute an important personage such as Fradel Rurik Korvald, who clearly enjoys His Majesty's good graces, and still escape the consequences of disobeying the Imperial guarantee of safe passage contained in these documents?"

Turo cupped his head in his hands as the others exchanged worried glances, knowing that their fate was sealed along with that of the Magistrate.  The more outspoken of them ventured hastily thought-out suggestions which only served to infuriate the Magistrate.  Increasingly agitated, Turo drummed his fingers on the desk and demanded immediate, more satisfactory answers to his dilemma.

The bookish Assistant Chief Constable, who had kept a thoughtful silence up until then, picked up his courage, noisily cleared his throat to command the attention of the silent group then spoke, "There is, unfortunately, another serious concern, related to this one, which also needs to be addressed, Your Honor."

 He retrieved a piece of paper, a wanted poster, from the leather wrap and, unfolding it, presented it to the Magistrate.

 "I received this by special courier from the Prefect's Office just this last hour, and was on the point of having it duplicated and distributed.  Please, Your Honor, note carefully how the description of the female criminal on the left tallies perfectly with the features of Fradel Rurik Korvald's accomplice. “

“Furthermore, since she was in Fradel Rurik Korvald's company when she was apprehended, I would venture to guess that he is the hunted male criminal on the right."

 All heads one by one nodded in concurrence, as the wanted poster was passed around from hand to hand.

"It's definitely her, Your Honor. But the male's description is rather vague (sketchy). Nevertheless, we must agree with Lu's assumption that it could very well be the Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald."

"Of course, the final word rests with you, Your Honor."

"Confound it!  More problems!" the Magistrate barked.

 He burrowed his piercing eyes into Lu, venting his fury on the bearer of this news,

"I suppose you would be the one to pile more rocks on my premature grave.  Bah!  I asked for an apt solution, not more complications."

As the Assistant Chief Constable withdrew to the back, muttering apologies for his untimely introduction of this news, a few of his colleagues hastened to appease Turo.

"Your Honor it may be good that we became aware of it now, so that we can take it into consideration."

"Yes, this is to our advantage, for later on it could have proven disastrous."

Subsequent (Pursuing) hours of intense deliberation, the conference finally produced a suitable resolution all could agree on: The Magistrate would not hold the court in Wincox City but would defer the matter in its entirety for proper disposition by Prefect Micen Do in his superior court in Denor City, the site of the alleged crime. 

Assenting, the relieved Magistrate wiped the perspiration from his brow (forehead) and swiftly drafted a detailed account of the trespassing crime, included a sworn deposition from his guards, and added an inflated account of the great expense incurred in apprehending these felons.

Magistrate Turo then ordered heavier racks to be fitted for the necks of both prisoners and, that they are dispatched that same day under heavy guard to the Prefecture in Denor to await their trial and the subsequent punishment.

 The captain (furnished with Fradel's sealed identity papers, sealed summons along with a special insert from the inept Magistrate, the transfer order and papers of indictment on the trespassing charge), along with one hundred armed guards, escorted the prisoners in heavy chains locked up inside a caged cart, out of the city.

As mentioned earlier, the trouble having transpired in such proximity to the capital province Holger, Nevetsecnuac, under the guise of scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, had been constrained to remain within the bounds of scholar’s faculties (abilities) and therefore, had endured (tolerated) this grave injustice.  Nevertheless, his contingency plan had considered the possibility of this matter not being cleared up by the Prefex Micen Do either, in which case, he then planned to take direct action and make good his escape, preferably at an apt opportunity and place with minimal (disruptive) consequences.

 Unfortunately, he had grossly underestimated the seriousness of his nightmarish situation, the dept of corruption and the strong security measures that truncated any possibility of justice or effecting escape, not in Wincox City, nor on the way to the Prefectural Seat in Denor.

 

                                                                                 ~

05-- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC)) AND YENIS, IN CHAINS

Arriving at the Denor city gates by mid-morning, they (prisoners, Captain and the guards) were all instantly plunged into a large, hostile crowd of common citizens.  Obviously bribed and coached, the indignant crowd which waited for them tormented the prisoners all along the route to the Prefect's Office.  Yenis and Fradel were pelted with an assortment of ripe fruit, rotted eggs, slimy and foul-smelling human and animal excrement as well as being subjected to furious vilification, threats, curses and blows to the head and back from those who had brought along thick poles for the purpose.

The stern, hard faced Prefect, Micen Do, on being informed of the prisoners' arrival, immediately took up his seat and called his court into session.  With order finally restored, Micen Do had the bailiffs bring both prisoners forward.

 As was customary at the start of any trial the male accused, Fradel, was brought forward, stripped to the waist and given fifty heavy strokes with iron rods, on his back until the flesh broke.  Not satisfied with the damage thus inflicted on Fradel's sturdy form, Micen ground his teeth in contempt and ordered another twenty strokes, accusing the bailiffs of being too lenient (humane, merciful) in their beating of the prisoner.  To his chagrin, not a whimper or plea was attained from stubborn Fradel’s lips, robbing the Prefect and the gleaned (gathered, assembled) crowd the sought after perverse satisfaction.

Grumbling under his breath, Micen Do summarily looked over the indictment papers with a hard visage. He then picked up the documents bearing the formal complaint and the death warrant itself.  Briefly glancing at the report from Magistrate Turo, he brushed aside Fradel's identity papers with a huff, barely noting even Fradel's full name.

"The charge of trespassing is solid; we can therefore dispense with any hearing on that matter.  The sentence is death."  He moved to quiet the cheering from the crowd then looked up to formally charge both of the accused with the added crimes of murder, mutilation and robbery of the honorable Senson Luko.

 "I will withhold the sentence of death pending the outcome of this trial, so as to determine by the proceedings the severity of the criminals' torture and the means of their death."

The prisoners were not permitted to enter a plea or say a single word in their defense at this point in the proceedings.  Instead, the court clerk, as ordered, stepped forward and read out loud the highlights of the case against them, including the corroborating testimonies of the brothers of the deceased and the servants of the Luko household.

The picture painted was most incriminating.  Yenis was described as a wanton, shamefully promiscuous woman, guilty of immoral misconduct, carrying on (with untold no of men) secret rendezvous and illicit affairs, who on the night in question had smuggled her latest lover, Fradel, into her husband's private library in order to commit murder.

The summation was concocted from the Prefect's own conjecture and read out to the court.  "After this vile, gruesome deed was accomplished, both the accused pilfered (made off with) many of the valuables, to enable them a fresh start elsewhere.  Making good their escape, they successfully eluded the constables on their trail until, after hiding out in a site forbidden by Imperial decree, where no honest citizen would dare tread, they were apprehended (ensnared) by the good and proper forces of the law. Guilty as they are of such reprehensible (appalling) acts, they deserve no mercy from this court."

 The (jovial outcry) cheers of the spectators painted a sinister smile on the Prefect's ugly, scar-ridden face as he delayed restoring order to the courtroom.

06-PREFECT MICEN DO

There was only slim evidence, vague at best, from the only eyewitness, the old gatekeeper, concerning the identity of the lover.  Familiar with such goings on, he had failed to get a good look at the man in the dark as the two made their getaway.  He had just minded his own business and had not raised the alarm until the grisly discovery of the following morning which brought to light the full scope of their crime.  However, this lack of solid evidence did not deter Prefect, with the persistent finger of guilt pointed at Fradel; it was enough that he had been caught along with Yenis.

"Fradel Rurik Korvald is guilty as charged by his association with a known criminal alone, there being an absence of factual evidence in this matter."

Prefect Micen Do then rush through the verbal questioning of the witnesses, practically coaxing their testimony from them in order to achieve the desired effect. 

He was constrained to follow at least the appearance of proper judicial procedure even though he was completely blinded to any sense of justice in his eagerness to secure a guilty verdict for both the accused, Yenis and Fradel.

Why was he so prejudiced?  It was because he wished to set a precedent here.  For some time now, moral standards in Denor have been particularly lax.  Since many fine, upstanding gentlemen, including the Prefect himself, liked to idle away their time consorting or ogling the beautiful courtesans and other loose women, in thriving establishments of ill repute posing as respectable tea houses that had sprung up in a multitude all along the riverbanks.  The river Hain, whose course meandered along the immediate outskirts of the city, was often thronged with pleasure boats from which the singing, laughter and music drifted into the suburbs until all hours of the night, every night.

 In this liberal atmosphere it was left to these same promiscuous men to preach virtue to their wives and daughters and to keep them from straying and become the playthings of other men.  Such happenings would entail an ultimate loss of face for these pretentious family men.  Even Prefect Micen Do, whose wife was no great beauty and falling far short of the good looks Yenis bore despite her present disheveled condition, had vigorously guarded his wife's chastity (fidelity) from the time of their marriage ceremony with a particularly jealous obsession. As his second wife (first one was deceased) was much younger than him, Micen Do had kept her virtually imprisoned within the confines of their home, to prevent any probability of her straying. This criminal case (adultery and murder) had naturally struck at the insecure chord of his heart and aligned his sympathies from the start with the deceased cuckold, Senson Luko, who he feared could just as easily have been him.

With much of the preliminaries out of the way, it finally became Fradel's turn to be asked, merely as a formality, how he pleaded to the charge of murder, mutilation and robbery.  Instead of pleading guilty as he had been instructed to in jail, Fradel with dignified composure, defiantly looked Micen straight in the eye and boldly protested his innocence of all three charges.  On the advice of his senior assistant, the Prefect contained his burst of fury and overlooked Fradel's impertinence.  He ordered the keeper of the stores to produce the most incriminating evidence; the murder weapon itself, for the court and it was promptly set on the dais before the bench.

Picking up the knife, mottled with dried blood, Micen thundered, "Do you still persist in denying that this does not belong to you?  Do you deny that the inscription on the blade, an engraved 'F', stands for 'Fradel'?"  He thrust the blade towards Fradel at arm's length and stormed, "Confess your crime now, and your death will be swift.  Delay this court and you will suffer all the agonies of Hell."

Again, Fradel with unwavering resolve, stated his innocence.  With his stoic, heroic countenance he then, with eloquent speech, enumerated (pointed out) the blatant loopholes in these unfounded charges against him; and in doing so, broke into shambles all the evidence amassed against him.

This created a great stir in the court, propagating (sowing) serious dissension among the gleaned (assembled) onlookers, some of whom now wavered in their resolve about Fradel.  Some even loudly questioned the soundness of the authority's judgment and actions thus far, crying out that a great injustice had been done by Fradel Rurik Korvald, who was obviously innocent.

To root out this dangerous, disturbing development, the concerned Prefect Micen Do angrily interceded.  Pointing an accusing finger at Fradel, he cursed him as the worst kind of renegade, a dangerous, venomous scorpion who used his cunning abilities to stir up the crowd.  He then had Fradel trussed up like an animal, using even more chains to prevent him moving a muscle, and had him gagged, to prevent "Fradel's disruptive, treasonous outbursts."  Fradel was also given a dozen more lashes to subdue him and to appease Micen's (fury) ire.

Already prejudged guilty, merely as a formality, Yenis was next asked, under the threat of torture, to confess her guilt, elaborate on the details of her crime and admit to the whereabouts of the stolen goods, which the muddleheaded Prefect only then had recollected to ask.

07- YENIS'S TESTIMONY

"But I'm innocent, Your Honor.  I was forcibly abducted."  Yenis, bemoaning her fate, dropped to her knees and in a quivering (trembling), tragic tone pleaded for mercy from the Court.  Despite the overwhelming evidence against her, grasping at straw in her effort to escape her inevitable, horrible end, she then mesmerized the court and kept the spectators in rapt attention, swaying the facts and circumstantial evidence all in her favor.  Vehemently claiming her innocence and stating that she had been grossly wronged by malicious slanders, she pointed an accusing finger at Fradel, declaring that she had never before that cursed day set eyes on him, that after Fradel's brutal murder of her beloved husband, this lecher had forcibly abducted her and sexually assaulted her.

Many groaned in the courtroom, already having committed to memory Fradel's brilliant defense.

"I've been made to suffer enough injustices, Your Honor." Her tearful protest came next. "But I care little that my name is unjustly smeared with filth …that I'll be cut down in the prime of my life.  All that I ask is that I be allowed to mourn properly, like a dutiful wife should, for my beloved husband severed (torn) so prematurely from me.  Afterwhich, you may do with me as you wish, Your Honor.  You may torture me, slice me to ribbons, remove my entrails and feed them to the dogs.  I do not care if I'm ever reborn.  I still will not cry injustice then.  My life here or in the hereafter is of little consequence to me."  She sobbed uncontrollably, the very picture of a virtuous wife.

She was by no means finished with her very convincing melodramatic performance.  Following several more minutes of hysterical crying, she with a heart wrenching moan raised her shackled hands and, looking up again lamented (bemoaned) her fate.  "Oh pity, pity me; I’ve done nothing to deserve such agony; oh, but Heaven sees all, Heaven is the only true judge… Merciful Gods, bear witness, to this great injustice inflicted on me today!"  She tore off clumps of her disheveled hair and struck her forehead to the floor until a slight trickle of blood oozed over her eyes.

 As many gasped, she spread her arms helplessly and again casting her gaze upwards, swore, "May the Almighty Gods strike me dead, right here and now, with a fiery bolt from Heaven, render me to cinders if I'm trying to deceive Your Honor."

All present mechanically turned their heads, searching with fearful eyes upwards.  But of course, no lightning appeared.

"Have pity on me, Your Honor; for how can poor, defenseless women like me prove my innocence?  I swear I've been framed by those who had hoped to gain from my death.

I swear that I was taken against my will that day by this rogue, who had butchered my dear husband and made me suffer such deplorable, unspeakable humiliations. “

“Oh, Heaven pity me; after all I've been through, I'm not deserving of this cruel treatment.  You’re Honor, look at me, look at me hard; can you not see that I’m no criminal!"

She continued to implore the Prefect in a hoarse, tragic tone, "Oh, you can't even begin to imagine what I've been made to endure.  Such shameful, vile torments I've suffered already by his hand!"

To substantiate her claim, she then tore open her sleeves to show the scratches and bruises on her arm, supposedly inflicted on her by her abductor, Fradel.

 She claimed that she had still worse ones all over her body.  "Would a lover do this to me?" she asked indignantly.

Many spectators, beguiled by her words and dramatic presentation, fixed Fradel with their burning, contemptuous glares while others, bug-eyed, simply gaped, sighed or shook their heads, wavering now in their assumption of her guilt.

Heated, animated discussions simultaneously erupted, first outside, then inside the courtroom between those that believed Yenis's innocence and saw her as a tragic victim and those that recalled Fradel's testimony or simply knew better.

Fradel, bursting with indignation and outrage, struggled violently against his shackles.  Some of the chains were stretched to the breaking point.  All who witnessed this gasped in fear and awe.  Some, who had been hardest on Fradel, now were tongue-tied, eyeing the exits as a pale-yellow streak ran down their backs.

Just then, on a signal from the Prefect, a serious blow to Fradel's head rendered him dizzy and almost unconscious.  He was vulnerable after all!  Those who, just moments before, were worried, grinned sheepishly at their own stupidity and cowardice; presently emboldened, they spat and cursed the prisoner.

Warm blood, meanwhile, oozed from the contusion, smearing half of Fradel's face.  He tasted the salty fluid (blood) on his lips, as he wavered in his stance, dancing stars and flashing lights appeared before his eyes.  He was surrounded by this crowd of ignorant nincompoops.  Easily swayed, they craved even more of his blood as the real culprit was winning their sympathies.

Even the stern visage of the Prefect was undergoing a significant change.  Secretly smitten by this beauty, he was mellowing.  Fortunately, a discreet whisper in his ear by his sound assistant Mouro, a former client of the Luko clan, quickly brought Micen to his senses.

"No use denying your guilt, vixen!" waving the documented proof in her face, he cursed Yenis.

 Fuming at having almost been made into a fool by her, he then shouted for her to be punished by five strokes to her legs. 

At once the heavy bamboo staffs (poles, sticks) mercilessly rained down on her frail, delicately shaped legs, each stroke intensified her ear-piercing shrieks and blood-curdling screams, evoking even more pity for her from the already beguiled crowd.

"Why punish her?"  They grumbled, biting their lips and shaking their heads.  "She is such a beauty, too."

"Silence in the court!"  The furious Prefect pounded his gavel on the bench to restore order.  When silence again reigned, Micen ordered the bailiffs to punish with blows the next one of the spectators who dared to utter a single sound of discontent.

Menacingly the bailiffs, with sinister smiles, held their bamboo staff high, ready to strike and searched the already cowering crowd for victims.

When Yenis was next questioned about the severed parts of her husband, Honorable Senson Luko, liver and heart and what became of them, she claimed ignorance of parts’ exact whereabouts and no amount of pressure applied could make her change her testimony.

Just then, when the Prefect again remembered the missing booty, he skipped over that line of questioning and asked instead of the whereabouts of it from her.

She fell on her knees and readily volunteered the answer; all the while sticking to her claim, that she had been taken to Kuno Temple by force where she had witnessed the culprit, Fradel, her abductor, burying it in the Large Hall.

 "With an aim to retrieve it later, the knave has cunningly disguised it as a burial mound for those cursed monks." she sneered.  "But, nevertheless, you'll find it under that pile of worthless bones.  He even threatened to bury me there, too, if I did not cooperate with his vile lust."  Cupping her face in her hands, she gave a convincing shudder, as if recalling his disgusting ogling of her.

Fradel could hardly contain his bursting rage, and a fierce storm grew in his heart.  What harm had he done her, to deserve such treachery?

Observing this, Micen grimaced in satisfaction, assuming this emotion attested to the truth of the facts but, in a second, his face again became clouded, for this presented him with a fresh set of problems, since the search for and retrieval of the goods would not be possible until after a special dispensation was secured from the Imperial Court.

On top of this, another worry also besets him.  Now that the burgled stash’s (loot's, plunder’s) whereabouts had been so carelessly disclosed to the entire court, he feared that, despite the penalty of death, some of the spectators may retrieve it before he could.  This meant even more effort and manpower to secure the temple area from such an unwanted intrusion.                                                                   

                                                    

Having no interest in the arts or literature, the name Fradel Rurik Korvald had meant absolutely nothing to Prefex Micen.  Fortunately, Ashrath, one of the court clerks, had chanced upon a volume of Fradel's poetry a couple of years prior as he was visiting a relative in the Capital, and he now suddenly recalled just who that name stood for, as well as the acclaimed poet's influence among the elite there.  He hastened forward to discretely whisper his warnings into the Prefect's ear, just before sentence was to be passed on the accused.

Suddenly an uproarious, boisterous laugh from the back rocked the entire courtroom, nearly shaking it to its foundation.  As if of one body, all heads turned to see a seated, fiery red-haired giant.

"Such insolence…  Who dares be so brazen and disorderly!  Bring forth the cheeky knave before me at once!" Micen bellowed.

The crowd (peeled) snapped apart in the middle to allow the rushing bailiffs to reach the culprit.  But the minute those in the lead came upon the stranger, still seated and glaring at them, they lost their nerves and froze perfectly still Like Mannequins allowing the rest that came after them to pile into them. 

The crowd outside the door craned their necks to see what was happening inside.

As the fierce stranger slowly rose to his feet and, with measured steps, walked weightily towards the Prefect, he looked even more formidable, and the intimidated bailiffs and the crowd once more voluntarily shrunk to the sides.

Unobstructed, the giant, (blazing) red-haired stranger walked straight to the bench, picked up the murderer's weapon and rammed the knife into the wood up to its hilt, barely missing Micen's knuckles.

Then, pointing a finger at the terrified Prefect, he thundered, "This trial is a travesty of justice, and you are not fit to be sitting on that seat."

 Panning the crowd with venomous eyes he bellowed, "All of you are beneath my contempt!" and he spat on the floor in disgust.

His intense gaze now turned back on the prefect, it burrowed deep into Micen's flesh, making the Prefect (break out) squirm in cold sweat.

With a wry grin the stranger growled, "Pay heed, for I will say this only once!  This man, known as Fradel Rurik Korvald, is innocent of any wrongdoing.  He is a gallant, principled young man whose only crime thus far is that he is too soft. Otherwise, he would not have found himself in this despicable mess (farcical situation).”

 He grimaced coldly, “If you had taken the trouble, you sorry excuse for a Prefect, to properly examine his papers you would have seen for yourself that he is a stranger to these parts.  I, myself, came across him at a remote inn in Zhingcho Province at the same time that your perjuring witnesses claimed that he was consorting with this vile, treacherous woman, whose lying tongue should be cut from her mouth."

 He had only to turn his burning gaze in her direction, his hand resting on the sword hilt at his waist, to cause Yenis to recognize him as the ghost in her room at Kuno Temple.  She shrieked and collapsed unconscious to the floor like a stone.

 "Bah!  The worm is not worth tainting my sword with her vile body fluids."

 With a snort of contempt, he again addressed Micen Do, "I will be leaving you now but, if in three days’ time Fradel Rurik Korvald is not released, you will answer for it to my sword's blade.  The metal thirsts for the heads of your kind."

09- IMMORTAL ZONAR KUNTZU

 With a cold sneer he turned his back to the Prefect, "I dare you to have your men obstruct my way!"

As he passed by Fradel, he stayed his footing (steps) just long enough to grimace at Fradel and bowed his head slightly. "I, Zonar Kuntzu, now return the favor."

He let out a boisterous, sinister laugh which grated on the nerves of the packed courtroom, then narrowed his eyes and, with a serious visage, advised Fradel, "You must harden your heart for what is to come and to finish the job I've started here."

As his hand saw the air, a sudden clap of thunder deafened everyone and immersed the courtroom in a thick mass of fiery smoke and light.  When it cleared, as fast as it had appeared, the stranger had disappeared into thin air.

All stood frozen, their tongues sticking out of gaping mouths, as they stared at the spot where, just seconds before, Zonar had stood.  It took some time before their breathing normalized, their heartbeat regulated, and they ceased trembling long enough to remember to retract their tongues.

Those with the stronger constitutions now jostled towards the door, stampeding over the bodies of the weaker ones who had fallen underfoot.  On their heels the rest followed, tottering (lurching) in streams to the outside.  Their knees knocking, their limbs trembling, they all repeated the persistent murmur etched on their lips, "Zonar!  Zonar!  We have seen the messenger of Death!"

The Prefect, having received the greatest scare of all (still tongue-tied,) at the urging of Mouro, finally regained his senses and power of speech. With his lackluster eyes, purple lips and pale, sickly face drenched in perspiration, he gave up any idea of restoring order to the court and, after dispatching the guards to search for the stranger, quickly adjourned the proceedings.  With the secretary carrying the bulk of the documents, he withdrew to his private quarters while the prisoners were hauled off to once more be pilloried in their dark cells.

(END OF SECTION 22)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 17

Brandishing his sword as he stood in ready stance, Alec bellowed, “I am Heng Erling, the only surviving son of Marshal Gustav Erling and I have waited all my life for this day of vengeance!”

“I should have known you were (false) duplicitous right through” Nevetsecnuac fumed.

“A leopard doesn’t change its spots!”

 “Call it what you will, “Heng Erling laughed. “Brace yourself, for you shall be the first to perish at my hand, and that cursed Lord Asger isn’t going anywhere, either.  He forsook his own flesh and blood son Ivar Marrog Zhon, in place of you and, while you grew up in relative safety and comfort in that mountain cabin, his son from infancy has been languishing in a dark, foul dungeon beneath the Capital, never knowing a day without torture.”

“Hah, you think him a noble Lord, but in all these years, he never strove or mustered able men to rescue his own flesh and blood; instead, he cowered like a spineless fiend, biding his time and nourishing dreams of glorious return on your coattails, in that mountain retreat?”

“I’ve heard enough out of you. How dare you malign uncle, a noble Lord with your false, delusions; is there no end to your treachery?”  Nevetsecnuac brandishing his sword, raced towards him with the ferocity of a tiger.

All during the ensued fight Nevetsecnuac tried desperately to repute Heng Erling’s shocking revelations (disclosed facts) about Lord Asger’s forsaken son; unbidden however, certain facts too swiftly rushed to mind validating some of it, such as the seemingly benign incident in the “Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple”. Nevetsecnuac recalled all too vividly, Asger’s (Stark’s) accidental inclusion of the name “Ivar Marrog Zhon” in the list, before his quickly erasing it. And recently still, when at the stables Alec, rather Heng, had made the mention of Asger’s son, Nevetsecnuac recalled, how he was curtly stopped. Nevetsecnuac’s conscience thus troubled him as he fought two wars within and without; therefore, for a time Nevetsecnuac’s prowess had been hampered while he fended off Heng’s repetitive, fierce offensives.

Heng with his physiological warfare, thus, once or twice had almost got the upper hand and very nearly vanquished Nevetsecnuac. On one instance, Nevetsecnuac back flipped to escape the brunt of the blade that instead, cut a razor slice across his chest.  Rebounding quickly however, for Nevetsecnuac’s admiration and love for his uncle, Lord Asger was infinite; he had again picked up the momentum and very nearly bested Heng.

Equally resilient Heng withstood these offensives with his remarkable strength, skill and agility; meanwhile, encouraged by the prior result, again he strove to further disarm Nevetsecnuac.

“Some say Ivar Marrog Zhon has been kept alive, barely, as a ruse to draw the traitor from his secretive lair, but our Sovereign could not have known the heartlessness of this Lord,”

Heng spat the word Asger, as he continued with his deadly strikes.

“Some hero; he ran away in the heat of the battle, while his castle, his lands were being besieged, forsook his obligation to his father’s bloodline, for the likes of you? Answer me this, does Lord Asger hold aspirations of grandeur, thinking of the day of your being reinstated to power?  Fool, as if that would ever happen!”

“You know nothing of the truth.” Nevetsecnuac could not help but bellowed back, even though grasping Heng’s sly strategy, he had already resolved to maintain inner composure while concentrating an all-out effort at defeating this very dangerous, and cunning   adversary.

  “As for your beautiful wife, when I’m done with you both, she'll make a fine present for His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek to defile and torture.  Eunuch Egil Viggoaries can (devour) chew on the bones of your twins afterwards!"  Undeterred, Heng threw his head back in a monstrous laugh.

Despite his doggedness, Nevetsecnuac felt as though ice water had been poured all over his steaming body.  At the same time inexplicable sorrow had seeped into his heart as he, a recent dad, grasped the full implications of Lord Asger’s supreme sacrifice.

Fiery contempt for Heng flamed in Nevetsecnuac’s chest and filled his spleen with rage.  Grinding his teeth, he reviled Heng, and at lightning   speed he again powerfully struck the other.  They clashed, weapons thrusting, flailing against each other.  During this deadly exchange (skirmish) Nevetsecnuac suddenly realized that Heng had concealed his true abilities at all prior confrontations; in fact, his fighting skills were most formidable, far more formidable than Duan’s.  With the added advantages of incorporating Nevetsecnuac's fighting style alongside his, he had now become a most fierce (challenging) adversary, a virtually invincible opponent.

 

Lord Asger would be disappointed in me and appalled, all with good reason. Nevetsecnuac bowed his head in shame. How could I, with all my years of training, allow myself to be so completely duped? Fueled by this added indignation and ire, with his unleashed innate (inherent) survival instincts Nevetsecnuac was instantaneously transformed into an intrepid, more indomitable warrior. 

Presently, with such ardent, livid antagonists, the earth shook (trembled) from the ferocity of their combat. Limbs of trees fractured or splintered, surrounding foliage and the like were all pulverized or destroyed, rocks, boulders were smashed to bits, split apart or uprooted, as the intense conflict ceaselessly continued.

Lasting all night, after countless rounds of pitched battle, still neither of them could gain the upper hand.  Each time Nevetsecnuac lunged at Heng his thrust was nimbly parried and each blow of Heng's was warded off with little room to spare.

Finally, Heng made an ill-timed thrust at Nevetsecnuac's heart and Nevetsecnuac, with incredible dexterity, spun around it and, twisting his opponent's sword hand, forced Heng to tumble to the ground, dropping his weapon.  Heng rolled then somersaulted to avoid the assault that followed, at the same time retrieving (grabbing) his weapon and landing back on his feet to immediately hack back at Nevetsecnuac.  Again, each attack was parried, each blow warded off, till the force and lightening   rapidity of the strikes barely managed, took its toll on Heng and at one point having lost his grip, his sword flew off his hand aching across the sky to land, rather, be buried in the midst of the nearby lake.

 Heng stood, defenseless, glaring at Nevetsecnuac.

"Ask for mercy", Nevetsecnuac shouted, "and I'll spare your life."

"I'll see you in hell, first!"  Heng swore and darted towards his horse. 

"Stop your running   and fight, you cowardly fiend!" Nevetsecnuac had raced after Heng.

Heng’s stallion spooked by this sudden charge however, had bolted and neighing wildly, nearly trampled Heng under his hooves. But not before had Heng retrieved something he’d needed from the secret compartment of the saddle.

As Heng fell back he quickly tugged the items under his waist wrap; he grumbled a curse on his breath while his eyes briefly trailed his horse galloping into the distance.

Heng swerved (veered) and looked askance at the other but knew better than to try approaching Fiery Comet; resigned to his fate, perfectly composed, he then turned to face Nevetsecnuac.

Now all this had transpired in the blinking of an eye.

 

"Cowardly?  Who's the coward here? I dare you to fight without your precious sword!" Heng at this point, defiantly hollered back.

As it was, Nevetsecnuac's code of honor constrained him from striking an unarmed man.  "That suits me fine.” he tossed the sword aside and rushed to engage Heng in hand-to-hand combat.

They fought seemingly endlessly, with such force, such adroitness, the like of which was unseen in any mortal man.  Again, the surrounding area became the casualty of this intense battle. Perfectly matched, the hand-to-hand combat would have lasted forever and ever, but Heng was fast nearing his patience, and sought to bring a quick resolution to this obvious impasse.

And so, after his deadly strike, in an unexpected maneuver, Heng turned tail and fled, as he ran, he withdrew handful of tiny razor-sharp metal spikes with poisoned tips, from beneath his waist wrap, then while still running   he half turned and hurled them with lightning   speed at Nevetsecnuac.

 With incredible agility, Nevetsecnuac dodged the deadly spikes’ course, and the metal spikes continued, flew by and buried their heads in the same ancient tree that his sword had once sliced.

 “Blast!!”  Heng cursed under his breath, as he same time, taking advantage of Nevetsecnuac's momentary distraction, in lightning speed, retrieved the other concealed poisoned stiletto from his high leather boot.

First, he allowed Nevetsecnuac to catch up then, whirling, Heng swiftly (longlined it) thrust the blade into Nevetsecnuac’s chest, having held no qualms at all about killing an unarmed foe.

Failing in this, for Nevetsecnuac’s quick action hurled it from his hand and buried it into the midst of thick, thorny bush, Heng somersaulted, shot through the air and dove right into the frigid waters of the lake. He was gone from view only for a spell, emerging shortly after brandishing the blade in his hand; he landed squarely in front of Nevetsecnuac who was rushing to retrieve his discarded sword.  Unarmed Nevetsecnuac with sure proficiency fended of the deadly assault then swiftly arriving at the spot where he had discarded his sword earlier, he nimbly kicked it to waist height with his toe, grabbed it without breaking stride and turned to parry Heng's murderous slash.

Again, they fought for another twenty to thirty rounds but this time, despite his prowess, Heng, chilled to the bone, began to falter.  In contrast, Nevetsecnuac maintained his speed and agility and wielded his weapon with such consummate skill that, in the end, he cut a three-inch-deep swath under Heng's ribs.

Heng froze in mid-parry then collapsed to the ground in a swelling pool of crimson.  Blood and curses spat from Heng's lips, each breath making him writhe in agony as he muttered bitter recriminations against his own impatience, arrogance and folly in underestimating Nevetsecnuac's competence.

"If only I had waited for the reinforcements and been content letting the axman take your head.  I've failed miserably.  My life's ambition has been frustrated."  Hot tears mixed with the blood on Heng's cheeks.

"My doomed father, forgive me.  I've condemned you to an eternity of torment, wearing the chains of ignominy, in the underworld!  My beloved ill-fated mother, Lingrace, forgive me, oh how I have failed you both!”

 Heng swallowed hard, thinking the rest.

Oh mother, you forsook your virtue and bore such shame during all those years you suffered the lustful, lecherous pawing of Zakhertan Yozdek.  You debased yourself as attendant at his wife's feet, just so I could live and avenge my father's death. Please mother, don’t curse me forever; find it in your heart to forgive, to absolve me of my failings for I’ve done my best, always have; unfortunately, the fiendish foes are backed by powerful demons. With Heaven forsaking the good, I was doomed to fail.

This was the only version Heng had desperately clanged to, always believing in his heart of hearts that his supposed angelic, saintly mother had been forced into that compromising situation, in order that her son's life was spared and also that the scant hope was kept alive, the prospect and the sole aspiration of avenging her husband’s untimely, ignominious death! 

Ensuing years of her coercion Zakhertan  Yozdek had been, by degrees, spared from any and all blame; instead, intense hatred and animosity had been fueled and then deferred to that vilified Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and Prince Nevetsecnuac.

 In blind faith Heng envisioned his mother, to his dying breath, as a self-sacrificing, tragic, victimized and molested heroine, rather than the deceitful, conniving and ambitious woman that she was. 

How could Heng face the ugly truth and keep intact his sanity?  How could his tormented mind surmise, the underlying, contemptible sole reason, that he had been spared for the horrific, sickeningly gruesome demises of his elder siblings, all because his mother had, long before the usurpation, covertly had intimate liaison with Zakhertan  Yozdek. And that suspicion, the question of Heng's paternity, was what had excluded him from the executioner’s block (gallows) or fate worse than death.

 How could Heng have guessed at the root of deceit that ran so deep in his mother that, on this day, when he was sacrificing his own life not to avenge his father's death, but rather to further her underhanded, selfish desire to ingratiate herself back into Zakhertan's good graces.  And that was the sole reason she had hired covertly this assassin Duan and constrained him to take her son Heng along for the ride.

 

In the meantime, despite the treachery, contempt and duplicity all that had passed between them, Nevetsecnuac, had felt certain compassion for this dying man, curled up in excruciating pain on the ground. And so, he leaned over to ask, “Can I do anything to ease your pain?"

"You can rot in hell; whelp!"  Heng's face contorted in pain at the effort it took to curse.

"I suppose there is no rebellion either,” Nevetsecnuac grumbled as he looked away, understanding the full scope of his deception.

"Haa, ha, haak!," blood welling up in Heng's throat cut short his sarcastic laugh.

 He spat it out at Nevetsecnuac and gritted his teeth in contempt. 

“That’s right, fool.  There are no rebels, no battles. The Generals lead an army of the dead.  Ha, ha, ugghh!" 

Pain again cut short his laughter as he uttered his last words with regret, “Pity that I should be the one to die, not you.  Heaven is not just."

Nevetsecnuac looked away to hide his surging emotions because he had been dealt with a crushing blow.  The lack of rebellion was not the cause of his turmoil, his deep dismay; however, rather, it was the knowledge of Lord Asger’s forsaken son.  So much had happened during these last few months. With those entire facts in a streamline racing through his mind, he plumped his seat down listlessly beside the lifeless body of Heng.

A great deal of reality had altered. He was not the person he thought he was, neither was his uncle. He’d grown up with, albeit necessary deception. As the past life in quick succession once more flashed before his mind’s eye, it resolved all that mystery he’d grown up with; so much more made sense now.

In one fell swoop many of his life’s queries had been answered.  But worst of it was the knowledge, how his beloved uncle, Lord Asger had sacrificed and endured such hardships and pain all on his behalf.

He shuddered at the thought of another innocent being, sacrificed and forsaken, worst still, imprisoned at infancy, forced to endure such torment, all because of him.

Lord Asger Marrog Zhon had sent Nevetsecnuac on, albeit with some reserve, hoping against hope that there would be some truth to Heng’s claims.  Looking at his bloodied sword, Nevetsecnuac recollected the entirety of his oath to self and Lord Asger; so, he sat, eyes cast on the ground, staring aimlessly in silent, pained concentration. 

He’d sworn the oath not to return without exacting vengeance, on behalf of all those living or perished souls. Heng’s treachery aside, Nevetsecnuac could not dismiss the fact that, Lord Asger’s son to date languished in some dark dreary dungeon.

 With lowered head, Nevetsecnuac ground his teeth and clenched his fist as he seethed.

  If he were to return, Asger would never let him go on this perilous rescue mission.

Teuquob and his bellowed children, their dependence on him could sway his determination. But how could he last another day, knowingly perpetuating this unethical, immoral feat (act)?  Lord Asger had sacrificed so much… Least he could do, is try, try to rectify this grave injustice and reunite him with his flesh and blood son!

Suddenly he knew the action he must take to make all these wrongs right. He could only estimate the scope of difficulty, the unforeseen challenges of his chosen (decided) course, but same time he knew it was the only honorable thing to do.

Springing to his feet, he threw both arms into the air and let out an earth-shaking roar

“Heaven bear witness to my new vow (pledge), whatever the cost; I shall exact vengeance on the Usurper Zakhertan Yozdek for all the wrongdoings he’s committed and, reunite Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon with his son Ivar Marrog Zhon.”

Nevetsecnuac afterwards (next) with meticulous care buried Heng Erling’s corpse under some rocks, poured libation (offering the entirety of wine which Heng had kept in animal skin vessel/container, and used it sparingly, since the time he’d accompanied Duan) over his grave and said some prayers for his soul.       

 At that moment in time, the first light of day broke; Nevetsecnuac’s eyes beheld a phantasm dragon suddenly manifest in the crimson sky, which it then quickly sailed on by amidst red clouds, till it dissipated.  

Nevetsecnuac thoughtfully nodded, then unable to stand still a moment longer he, vaulting into Fiery Comet's saddle, galloped the steed in the direction of the morning sun.

 

(THE END OF SECTION 17 – THE CONCLUSION OF THE ASSASSIONS)