12- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE PORTENDED PERIL - SECTION 6

“What?” Zaur snapped, then caught Quinher’s concerned look and, relenting, gave his friend the look of apology for his rudeness.

01- PHYSICIAN QUINHER YUNGAR  (3)

The physician’s empathetic eyes meet Zaur’s briefly as he then thoughtfully, stroked his sparse beard. “Well, I f…feel I should inform you t…that t…there is an s…slight p…probability he m…may t…take a t…turn for the worse. In t…that eventuality, t…there is only one m…more d…drastic m…measure I c…can... administer…to him.”  Then he reached into his (medicine) bag and withdrew a flask. His index finger traced the strange label on the potent application (concoction) with a query in his eyes (pupils). He explained that, in the eventuality Fradel Rurik Korvald took a turn for the worse, this would either hasten the unfortunate scholar’s untimely demise or reverse the illness, granting him his life back once more, though the aftereffects were as bad as the disease. Noting the pain in Zaur’s eyes however, he decided to withhold rest of the truth from him. Taking a deep breath and letting go of the tension, for his stuttering always worsened when he was anxious or uneasy, he rose from the chair and came around to place a placating hand on Zaur’s shoulder. “Hopefully, we will not n…need it, eh? Now go. You will b…be informed at once if t…there will be any….c…change.”

Acquiescing, Zaur Stugr thanked Quinher for all that he had accomplished already, and then, since there was nothing constructive (further) he could do there, he turned and hastily left the room. Zaur rushed his steps down the narrow corridor, to reach his other study, expecting to receive certain intel any minute. He was in fact, most anxious to talk to his men, which had been dispatched an hour ago in pursuit of the likely (suspected) culprit, and to learn, what progress had been made thus far.

Earlier, while Fradel Rurik Korvald was being tended to by the physician Quinher, Zaur Stugr hand briefly snuck away to the next room to examine the suspect garment and upon his careful examination (scrutiny), he had discovered the tiny poisonous pin fastened underneath the jeweled cufflink. This had proved most helpful in providing the correct diagnosis and the treatment of the symptoms, since it had provided positive identification of the suspected venom. And even though the near invisible, tiny prick on Fradel Rurik Korvald’s wrist had drawn only neglectable drop of blood, it had nevertheless been quite effective, as the poison was absorbed through the skin anyway. Now this particular (singular) poison being so rare and so hard to procure (get hold of), the only likely (probable) architect had to be the Dark Eunuch. Zaur had acted swiftly in dispatching his men to apprehend the collaborating culprits on the slight chance they were still alive and, to force confession out of them. While he waited for their return, Zaur turned his attention to the assembled servants that had failed him. He remained furious with all the staff assigned to Fradel Rurik Korvald, particularly Cholden.

02- HEAD STUARD CHOLDEN

Zaur’s icy glare sweeping over the assembled group silently chastised them for their dereliction of duty, even though deep down he knew, and had to concede (admit), that they could have done truly little to prevent this (impending) disaster. Thus, forgoing (abandoning) the long-winded reprimand, Zaur hissed out a contemptuous breath and sternly dispensed his harsh reprisals, for the sake of maintaining strict discipline. After their dismissal, he sat down with a heavy heart, to ponder on the future means (efforts, methods), with which to minimize the harm (damage). Unavoidable, Zaur’s mind reverted to the supposed (gaged) conspirators and the mastermind Egil Viggoaries who had devised this evil scheme before his departure from Channing; this made Zaur’s fists clench in irate fury.

Unable to sit still any longer, Zaur bolted (sprung) to his feet and began pacing the room back and forth; for secretly he knew, despite his wishful hope what the impending results would be. Subsequently, he was not surprised, not in the least, when his men came back empty handed and reported the eventual demise of the culprits, from an accidental fire, no less. It was a sudden, fierce one that at great expense been contained from spreading, but not before it had completely gutted the shop (establishment) and claimed the lives of the proprietor and the staff working for him (his employees). Hence no legitimate evidence could be had, not now, not ever.

Zaur had received this report sitting stiffly upright in his armchair positioned by the fireplace (hearth), his face showing no emotion, a perfect mask, though inwardly his disappointment and seething rage were barely contained. Long after the dismissal of his men he sat motionless with a wry grimace affixed to his lips as he contemplated his other options and brooded over the lost opportunities in the event of Fradel Rurik Korvald’s demise or failure to show up for tomorrow’s appointment with Ronterron Zuke, never mind the summons, for both amounted to the same thing. As it was, Zaur had every confidence in Quinher’s ability, since he had seen him work miracles in the past; but, even if the scholar could be rescued from the jaws of death, he could not be expected to recover fully in time and be fit enough, to keep his appointment with Ronterron Zuke, by the subsequent day.

Zaur Stugr huffed and shifted in his seat; he had delayed the inevitable long enough, now he must pay an urgent visit to the Prime Minister and inform His Excellency of this disaster before the news reached him through other means. It would be atypical of that despicable Dark Eunuch not to have arranged this aspect (phase, consequence) of the strike. Before Zaur could act on this decision however, an urgent word from Physician Quinher, sent Zaur rushing back to Fradel Rurik Korvald’s side.

As Zaur entered the room, he heard Fradel Rurik Korvald’s vociferous (vocal, uttered) entreating (imploring) with his mother, in an obviously delirious state, for her forgiveness. Zaur gave Quinher a questioning glance.

“Although its m…may not appear so n…now, it is s…still a p…positive sign.” Quinher halting what he was doing, smiled at Zaur reassuringly. “He m…may p…pull t…through after all.”

Zaur Stugr signaled the physician to follow him outside, but Quinher anticipating his next question, answered him grimly with a shake of his head, “I am afraid his c…complete recovery will t…take a week at least. He will not b…be able to attend the appointment with Ronterron Zuke, t…tomorrow.”

The anticipated words, nevertheless, weighed like lead on Zaur’s heart.

“T…take s…solace, at least he w…will not d…die. Not immediately, a…anyway.”  Quinher’s subsequent, consoling words were ignored, as Zaur Stugr, for the first time feeling vulnerable, turned his back on the physician, knit his brows in deep dismay and stormed out of the room. In the ensuing minutes Zaur strolled aimlessly through the exquisite garden, his head down while he racked his brains for the apt solution…Searching for the right course of action to take.

03- MINISTER OF CEREMONY ZAUR STUGR (KOZUR LEADER) JP

The worst had been averted, true, but they were not out of the woods yet. How best to extricate from this impending disaster? His Highness was well known for his intolerance of failure; yet he could not, in pre-emptive (preventative, defensive) move, throw it all away (flee or order self-destruct); not after years of the extensive effort of establishing bond and entrenching members of the Organization into the (key) core administrative body within the Capital. The blame was his, for not considering this inevitability, (albeit its unlikelihood). How could he have been so complacent, so short-sightedly unwise as to have underestimated his foe?

                                                                                 …….

All this while, despite Nevetsecnuac’s physical comatose state, his mind fully cognisant, he had observed the beehive activity around him. The chatter of sounds though discernable at first, as time went by, gradually became more muted. Abruptly his body, which had been up till then weighted down like a huge boulder becoming immersed in a brilliant light, his soul lifted from the listless body and ascended (soared) towards the ceiling. He was at present floating in mid-air light as a feather, and looking down on his listless, rigid corpus (physical body).

“Am I dead?” Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) recalling the earlier incidental prick on his wrist, loudly queried, but the silhouetted figures below gave no response (no inclination), neither hearing nor seeing his apparition that floated about in the room. Dismayed, he quietly reprimanded (reproached) self for his inaction earlier and, for being so remiss.

I should have; I should have…What? He quickly realized that there was little he could have done to alter the past. At one-point Nevetsecnuac drawing closer and looking over the shoulder of attending physician Quinher, he observed Quinher’s meticulous care. Avidly he followed the physician’s ingenious application of acupuncture, the precision punctures (stabs, piercings) to stabilize his lifeforce (pulse) and more importantly, stem the spread (flow) of poison from reaching the vital organs. Nevetsecnuac observed furthermore, the unique method with which the poison was extracted (leeched) from his body.

On the verge of complete success however, suddenly Quinher’s brows knit in deep dismay; a surprise setback, the anon discoloration of the skin on arm, neck, and face, added to the other visible symptoms (signs) manifesting now on Scholar’s (vitals and) limp body, clearly perturbed (disconcerted) hard working Quinher. He took in a long, exasperated breath and exhaling deeply, looked away.

Despite all, the patient was still at death’s door!

Quinher wiped away the sweat from his forehead and reaching over, picked up the cup containing the rest of the antidote but then after a momentary deliberation, he vehemently shook his head and put it down again. He had already administered the safe, right dosage to the patient; any more would bring serious harm to his vitals. There had to be another way! Refusing to concede therefore, he wracked his brains for that most allusive (circuitous) resolution that currently escaped him.

Intrigued, Nevetsecnuac reached for the same cup resting on the side table, but since he was unable to pick it up, for his hand went right through it, he contented himself with bending over and sniffing the contents, the small measure of the fluid, which had been left in it.

The rare, pungent smelling antidote, in diluted crab-apple and honey mix solution, was unlike anything Nevetsecnuac had known. Though his uncle Lord Asger had schooled him extensively on the variety of toxins and corresponding cures, this one being a mystery, Nevetsecnuac was pondering on its origin, when the room suddenly flooded in a blinding luminescence.

“No, I cannot leave… Not yet! I must return to my body.” Nevetsecnuac clung to the bedpost in protest, resisting being carried off by the sudden tempestuous rush of air that had at that moment inundated the entire room. But despite all his exerted effort, his grip was still violently torn away, and he was (sucked) propelled with incredible force into the whirlwind.

04 B - NEVETSECNUAC'S SURREAL EXPERIENCE

From there he was cast into a great void, where which he weightlessly floated within this dark, limitless expanse; and unfortunately, no matter which direction he glided (drifted), he always returned to the selfsame spot, or rather, it felt like that, for there was no variation of any kind in the eternal, infinite abyss.

At one point however he envisioned he was in midst of a sky over the vast forbidden icy peaks, whose summits were in the clouds, reaching up to Heavens. His hair was now completely white and there were dragons in the sky and a devastating whirlwind, a hurricane force winds over the planet Earth. Then came the fragmented images of the ground below that were utterly desolate, covered by ice and snow as far as the eye could see.

Despite the hopelessness of his situation, Nevetsecnuac was not one to give up so easily; relentlessly therefore, he strove to escape his dire, nightmarish entrapment till he expended every ounce of his vigour (energy). In the end, his heart pounding (hammering) fiercely in his chest, his breath heaving, he lowered his head in sad resignation. This outcome, had to have been, Heaven’ ordained.

“No, it was not.”  A gentle sound countered (contradicted this notion).

Nevetsecnuac reeled (turned) to see who had ejected those words and saw a beautiful, distinguished, noble lady floating towards him.

Are your Ladyship, a friend, or a foe? He was about to ask, when she with hurtful eyes, reading his mind, disappointedly, shook her head.

“You forgot your own mother, the one who gave you life?” she choked the hurtful words out, as her glistening tearstained eyes rested on him. “But then, you were ripped from (my bosom) my arms, in your infancy.” Lowering her head, she mumbled mournfully. “By rights I should have no cause for regrets for Lord Asger has sacrificed so much and (he has) devoted his whole life to bringing you up so righteously. You have lacked neither love nor attention.”

05-NEVETSECNUAC'S MOTHER ( INGRIT, ALSO KNOWN AS ARNORA )

“Mother?”  Nevetsecnuac, overcoming his shock, reverently bowed his head to her. It was all he could do in his buoyant (floating) form, to show his high regard (proper respect) to his mother. “Please, mother, forgive my impertinence, I…”

“It’s all right, son.” she interrupted him, opening her arms for an embrace. Rushing (floating) into each other’s arms both mother and son hugged (clasped) each other and sobbed.

“But this is no time for rejoicing or consolation either.”  Momentarily, curtailing her emotions, she drew away. Drying her eyes she spoke with affection, “I have come here, in disobedience (infringing, breaching) of the divine rules, on an urgent task. Your honourable father should have been the one to mend the error in your latest judgement and then guide you back on the right course, except that he is furious with you. He can be so obdurate (inflexible, obstinate) at times.”  She shook her head in exasperation.

“No matter; when he was distracted, I managed to get away (sneak away).”  She exhaled deeply and composed herself. “Listen, my precious, we are all aware of the turmoil that has been plaguing (afflicting) your heart and mind. You are a loyal, filial son but your recent, disagreeable experiences and odd events have deceptively, altered your perspicacity (logic, discernment, and wisdom). Please do not interrupt as I have truly little time to spare. Besides, its dangerous for you to linger in this abyss, an ambit (domain) between two realms of existence, too long. You could be permanently (eternally) trapped here, forfeiting your soul to the…” She shuddered, looked about her fearfully, unable to bring herself to even utter the name.

Nevetsecnuac, intuitive self however, suddenly tensed, as the name STHETOR manifested in his brain. But who was Shetor? Why did it evoke such dread…. There were also other disjointed words, such as ….  Nevetsecnuac’s mother’s voice, however, just then snapped him out from his private cogitations (deliberations).

When she’d spoken up again, understandably, her tone now was most urgent: “Please heed my words son, this is not about filial piety or righteous vengeance, though in part it could be construed as such; souls who had been condemned to roam the Earth or forever trapped in the eternal void, after your combat, finally vindicated, will be free (released) to enter Heaven. Yet your part (role) in all of this entails much, much more. You, my beloved, has been ordained by Heaven, to function as the instrument of Fate. Yes, on rare occasions it rests solely on the shoulders of a single individual (being) or,” dropping her head she inaudibly mumbled, “in this case also on another, hmm…The enviable bond between the two of y…” She abruptly curtailed (held) her tongue, and looking up at him, apologetically smiled. “But I digress; do you really think that it was by coincidence that you were lured out of the mountain abode prematurely? No, Heaven works in mysterious ways! If you do not go through with this, or if you fail, consequences, which I will now enumerate succinctly, will befall Wenjenkun: Zakhertan Yozdek has had a premonition, a warning; acting on it, he will execute Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund, the key component in future providence, sooner than he intended. If Zakhertan dies however, Qarzten will escape this catastrophe and Wenjenkun will be safe for a time under his competent rule. This will grant the heroes of Wenjenkun, a requisite, most valuable time to fulfill their fate (lot in life, their calling). If on the other hand Zakhertan lives, countless will perish, among them, Lord Asger, Fradel Rurik Korvald, my grandson Alric Svein, my granddaughter Lueling.”  She halted her speech at this point to dry her eyes, then choking back her emotions, she continued. “Instead of fulfilling their great destinies, they will be instead captured and in chains brought to Channing, to be tortured and ignominiously executed at the hand of that bloodthirsty Zakhertan Yozdek. That is the ill fate that will befall them. You must, therefore, do your utmost to eradicate Zakhertan Yozdek, this great evil of Wenjenkun. His reign is at an end anyhow; two years from now, because of a hunting accident which will permanently incapacitate (cripple) Zakhertan Yozdek, he would meet his imminent demise (death). By then the festering factional infighting, however, would have cast (plummet) the nation into a civil war, fueled in part by Deng Hedenko and those affiliated with Korion. During this time, the devastation in Wenjenkun will be insurmountable (immeasurable). After the eventual conquest of Wenjenkun, under the ruthless dominion of Emperor Deng Hedenko, the destructive elements would be so catastrophic that Wenjenkun as a nation would simply cease to exist.”  She shook her head grimly and paused, to simply allow it all to sink in. “On the other hand, succeeding in your noble aim… well, let’s just say that Heaven has given us a rare second chance.”  She smiled sweetly, reassuringly.

Mysteriously (inexplicably), through an innate magical power, Nevetsecnuac was then able to read succinctly, the arrested (checked), forbidden info, in her mind. “Wenjenkun (hardened by the fires of defeat) will rise again from the ashes to, one day under the leadership of its then benevolent Emperor, Alric Svein (the great-grandson of Zuronghan Therran Valamir), to become the mightiest, enduring nation for centuries to come. Wenjenkun, Korion, and even Kontu united under one benevolent ruler, will enjoy the lasting peace and prosperity.”

“Now, son, close your eyes and bid your soul to return to your body. You must strive, with all your might (vigour), to live again. Having said what I came to say, I shall now bid you my fond farewells, my most beloved son.”

Her words echoed in the void as she disappeared before Nevetsecnuac could respond with his own reassertion of eternal affection and gratitude to her. With his eyes misted shut, he followed her advice.

 

 

(END OF SECTON 6)

https://legend-of-ne-vet-sec-nuac.blog/2026/09/29/podcast-episode-legend-of-nevetsecnuac-book-12-the-portended-peril-section-6/

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 5

    

Zakhertan, turning his attention back on the task at hand, glowered (looked daggers) at the fourth stack of documents on his desk needing his perusal, he impatiently tapped his fingers on the desk and hissed. “Always the same… “    

Reluctant to begin, Zakhertan with disdain briefly watched the dancing flames of the brazier as Neru typically feed them, before reflecting on Lenny Sukzor’s latest submitted report on the covert and highly illegal activities of Egil Viggoaries. The slight discrepancy between Lenny’s and the subsequent information tendered by Juyin, the lovely wife of Lenny Sukzor’s, on her husband's activities, caused Zakhertan to frown.

01- JUYIN SUKZOR (3)JP

 The two statements varied slightly on one minute detail; an irregularity so feeble that another in his stead might have entirely missed it. Should he be concerned with such a trivial contradiction (incongruity)? Was it an oversight? No! He must not leave anything, no matter how slight, to chance.    

Zakhertan’s mouth formed into a snarl as he drew another blank parchment before him and issued a set of specific orders to have the matter more thoroughly investigated.  

 “I’ll wait and see where this leads to,” Zakhertan briefly pondered, after which he quickly sealed the envelope, containing specific order, with his Imperial seal. A single logo (motif) drawn on the envelope and explicit sequence of numbers registered underneath, indicated the precise department and agent that it was to be handed to; this too was summarily put aside along with the rest in that growing pile.

Then there is still that other matter, Zakhertan Yozdek irritatedly drummed his fingers on the desk. No! There was no need to review it again. Why was he even debating that issue still?  

Such ambivalence angered him; the one thing he had always taken pride in was his decisiveness and exceptionally retentive memory. One glance at anything, any detail however insignificant or minute, and it would be permanently embedded in his mind. Now tapping that innate advantage, Zakhertan recalled with perfect clarity a certain trivial observation hidden in the report the Royal Courier had submitted upon the completion of his mission. This obtuse remark did not tally with the recently, thoroughly compiled accounts by The Shadow Brigade men on the activities of the newcomer, Fradel Rurik Korvald.    

Ordinarily such a minuscule discrepancy would not have elicited any concern from Zakhertan.  Reflecting additionally on the independent reports of Zyerne Stewor and Tizan, who had also curiously enough, raised doubts about the Scholar and considering the recent happenings, Zakhertan decided to delve deeper into the otherwise innocuous matter concerning Fradel Rurik Korvald.

02- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC) JP 7

    

He might well have inadvertently transported trouble right to the Capital. This farfetched notion now gripped his heart anew with a certain inexplicable foreboding, for far too many had already come-in-contact with the illustrious scholar. Zakhertan imagined the wide scope this investigation would entail, the deployment of manpower it would take to, either get at the simple truth or, expose all the subversives if his hunch proved correct. As it were, the scholars had again been gaining one third measure of their former prominence and along with it, their sphere of influence had expediently grown. In any event a quick confirmation of these nagging concerns was warranted; he must question the couriers Canbir Nonng and Cais Honger further, on the one minor irregularity in their report. Zakhertan had always insisted on complete and accurate assessments and, if this was the result of incompetence, sacrificing accuracy for expedience, then the couriers would have to answer for it with their lives. Quickly he dispatched another written order, this one to order the couriers to hand over their mission to the one who would be sent in their stead and return in post haste to the Capital.   

That was the end of it. Finally, Zakhertan leaned back and stretched out his limbs.

Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund having concluded his assigned task expediently a short time earlier, had been waiting patiently for Zakhertan to finish his; he now came forward on the slight indication of Zakhertan Yozdek, to receive his verbal instructions in an ingenious code so secret that it was known only to the two.  Afterwards, Qarzten routinely picked up the order packets and, after bowing respectfully, hurried out the door to distribute them to the various department heads. All were required to work longer hours than the Sovereign.

The door quickly closed behind the Senior Grand Secretary, Zakhertan Yozdek watched with an uninterested blank stare Neru’s progress, then sat motionless in deep contemplative silence, dark clouds of thought swirling through his head and his guards only a whisper away.

    

                                                                                 ~    

    

Hastening out of the vestibule leading from the Imperial Chambers, the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund’s head was full of the multiplicity of orders, arrangements, and duties that he must complete before the day’s session was over. So entangled was Qarzten Caimund in these thoughts that he did not see and nearly run into (collided with) a similarly distracted Crown Prince Herleif, as Prince rushed in the opposite direction armed with a stack of ancient scrolls and star charts.   

"On yet another urgent errand; are we, Master Caimund?"    

Prince Herleif’s tone, beneath that remark, grated on Qarzten Caimund’s nerves as it always did. The Senior Grand Secretary’s face tightened, and he averted his eyes for a moment, “You are such a barefaced weasel; still suckling your mother's milk after twenty-three years. Your derision is still palpable under that semblance of sarcasm.”  Qarzten Caimund looked squarely at the prince Herleif now and nodded tersely.

03- -QARZTEN CAMUND (16)Bjp

"I gather His Highness is free now."  The Crown Prince, with typical arrogance, had completely ignored Qarzten's response to his barb and spoke now in the icy tone he used for the servants. "You will step aside to let me pass."    

“This hall will fit five armored guards marching abreast. Did you expect me to acknowledge this childish attempt to flaunt your authority? Let us see just how far your authority will get you.” Qarzten Caimund mocked the prince inwardly.

 

 "By all means." Qarzten smiled tightly as he half turned and shot a knowing glance towards the guards at the chamber doors, moving as slow as he could to antagonize prince Herleif.

"I would like to mention however, that this time may not be appropriate for an unannounced visit."  Qarzten Caimund informed the prince, in his even tone. "Perhaps, you should defer your objective of seeing His Highness this very evening unless, of course, it is a matter of the utmost importance." Qarzten tautly grimaced; but kept the words, “particularly the way you are clad; did you just leave one of your debauched (decadent, base) bashes?” and derisively (scathingly, sarcastically) looked away.

"Impudent wretch, how dare you treat me like an imbecile (dullard) child.” The Prince Herleif's protruding earlobes had turned beet red, as he, seething in contempt, violently shoved the Senior Grand Secretary aside. "Wait until I am your Sovereign, you arrogant dog!"  His face suffused with anger and a stream of abuse gushing off inwardly, he strode quickly forward to cross the vestibule in only a second.  

Caught unaware by this outburst of temper, the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund had dropped one of the sealed envelopes onto the marble floor. Anger smoldered in his breast as he stooped to pick it up and his face distorted with contempt. Half-turning his head, he witnessed the Prince Herleif’s way being barred by the two stout guards who had crossed pikes in front of the door to the Imperial Chambers.  

Herleif’s face reddened by rage and pressed menacingly against the senior guard’s, the prince growled, "Are you going to announce me or not? Fine! Step aside, for I mean to walk in immediately and report your insolence myself." 

04-PRINCE HERLEIF YOZDEK (2)

“Go ahead and slither in, you miserable worm, but you won't, will you?” Qarzten Caimund drew in a breath through his teeth then, catching the guard's eye, gave him a simple nod. He had proven his point.  

"I shall inform His Highness of your presence immediately." The stone-faced guard, not in the least perturbed, responded mechanically. "Please wait here, Prince Herleif."  Turning smartly, he stepped up to the door and knocked. After receiving begrudging consent, he opened the door and abjectly entered. After crossing half of the room and bowing briskly, he announced Price Herleif’s presence outside and his request to see the Sovereign.

 "What does that fool want now?' Zakhertan Yozdek snorted impatiently, expecting no answer, and turned his back to the guard to stare out at the serene scenery.   

 Awaiting orders, the guard had stood silently at attention, while at outside, under the transitory (brief) amused gaze of the departing Qarzten Caimund, Prince Herleif had for a spell simmered at his father's disdainful words. Then, he took in a slow breath and composed himself; subsequently, his hand reached inside his pocket, withdrew a rolled-up document, and waited.

 

                                                                                            ~

 

Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek with a blank expression, meanwhile, had continued to stare outside at the placid (tranquil) garden; his stern gaze next, focusing on the oblivious bird, taking in a drink or two from the fountain. Different troubling thoughts however, grievously (incorrigibly) and unbidden, anew robbed him of the peace he sought.

“If only Qijerrik had not turned on me.”  Zakhertan’s cold eyes blinked, filled with a deep hurt as he hissed out a long breath and shook his head. “If only my firstborn had lived instead of this wretched spawn.”  The grievous loss, the events of those days long gone, rushed in to crowd his mind again, searing his heart and soul with self-recrimination and regret. When the stabbing constriction in his chest became too overwhelming, Zakhertan summoned his will to push it aside and concentrated instead, on the positive attributes of his late son.

Zakhertan recollected fondly now with perfect clarity his proudest moments of Qijerrik. From the start, he’d been an offspring worthy of his sire. Not only Prince Qijerrik was most handsome warrior, as he was tall and athletic, though bit more handsome than him; but he had also been endowed with the same temperament, the same wits, tactical brilliance, and akin (parallel) martial ability (prowess) to Zakhertan at a corresponding age.

Zakhertan had hung great many hopes on his son Qijerrik’s shoulders after noting the potential in the boy, especially after, at age fifteen Prince Qijerrik had become, under his strict tutelage (guidance), an accomplished and indomitable warrior. What was more, Prince Qijerrik thrived on dangerous military campaigns just as Zakhertan did. The more perilous the task or more challenging the combat action the greater the thrill, the deeper the sensation the young Prince would derive from it. This feeling was one only Zakhertan would understand and, they were not just father and son but kindred spirits.  

05- QIJERRIK YOZDEK  (4)JP

But then cruel, capricious fate had instigated, on that fateful seventeenth’ year of his son's life, those infamous chain of events that had led up to his son’s betrayal, all of which were now permanently etched in Zakhertan 's memory by the same cursed talent that served him so well in his bureaucratic duties. Consistently every evening, as soon as he had time to himself, they had surfaced despite his best efforts to quash them and, fiercely, obsessively haunted his peace and tormented his soul.     

If only he had acted more swiftly and without qualm to stem the divergent tide earlier.    

 As it was Zakhertan had been preoccupied with obliteration of resurgent rebel forces at 

Wenjenkun’s western borders, while same time he was constrained to adopt far more severe, more brutal measures to eradicate the infestation the serious unrest by the rising literati (intellectuals or educated class) within Capital Province Holger. Unfortunately, while he was otherwise engaged, the contrary seed had been planted and had germinated in the one Zakhertan had least expected. That single oversight had cost him his firstborn son. When he became aware of this fact, of course by then he could not have altered the outcome, not in the slightest.   

Again, considering his then options in hindsight, Zakhertan shrugged with a certain resignation, admitting to himself that he could not have done otherwise for, on that cursed day when the dark flotilla of clouds congregated ominously on the horizon atop the rising sun, his beloved son Qijerrik, had insisted on, and unfortunately received, his permission to lead vanguard in the attack against the rebel scholars.  After all, Zakhertan had no reason to doubt his son's competence.     

The campaign had gone well enough, with the Imperial forces emerging victorious as expected; after which came the punitive action that wreaked total devastation on the entire populous which had aided and shielded the defiant scholars. Unfortunately, something had gone awry, something else quite unforeseen had transpired either on the battlefield or in aftermath, which had forever altered his beloved son Prince Qijerrik.      

The rebel army had fought gallantly and employed brilliant tactics right up until the bitter end, but that would not have brought about that kind of change in Qijerrik, for he had bested gallant foes before. Was it the gruesome mass suicide of the rebel forces when all hope had been lost? Or was it the subsequent events, the countrywide hunt for and the extreme persecution of the many sympathizers? Could it have been the madness of the pillaging, the extensive carnage and mass extermination of the scholar class? Or was it simply the proliferation (creation) of the earthen mounds that had contained within it, countless living bodies of men, women, and children? Could any of these or all, have been the contributing factors?

“No! Absolutely not! Qijerrik was no weakling coward. “Zakhertan once more vehemently denied that hurtful notion. It had to have been something entirely different, something inconceivable and one day he (Zakhertan) would surely pinpoint the real cause. Zakhertan yet again lied to himself. Technically that had been the day he had lost his firstborn son for, from that day forth Prince Qijerrik had undergone a drastic change in heart, mind, and character. He had become increasingly unruly and finally, downright disobedient.  

“If only my son had been a fallen casualty in war.” Zakhertan mulled over, though he surmised that, in a sense, Qijerrik had been just that.  

“Could the fault have been partly his? He should have listened to his son more?”    

“If only he’d paid more attention and timely intervened with apt measures to protect and isolate Qijerrik from those damaging influences, instead of reacting in anger and ostracizing his son for being contrary and too outspoken?” Zakhertan once more pondered on the nagging concerns, with his empty gaze affixed on the swaying trees (that seemed to be bowing obsequiously), for the wind had just then picked up in the garden.  

 “Had he been too stringent? Had he pushed his son too hard, too soon? No, that was not it either.” Zakhertan scowled. Whatever he might have done wrong, one thing was for certain: he had never been lax in Qijerrik’s upbringing or discipline. In fact, up until that time, Zakhertan had taken an active interest and taken great care in ensuring that Qijerrik had received proper, well-rounded education in both civil and military.   

“Then, how could he have failed to instill in the boy, the most important filial virtue, right alongside loyalty and honor?”  Zakhertan was angry and remained at a loss to find reasons for that drastic change in Qijerrik and the subsequent, catastrophic series of events. Searing fury rose in him anew as he recalled the distressing incident in Council when his son sharply stood up in front of all assembled, to openly oppose him. Admittedly, it was over a minor issue, but the act was still one of open, brazen defiance; a legitimate move under the law but it harbored graver undercurrents which would expose Zakhertan’s single weakness and challenge his overall authority in Imperial Court.

 Zakhertan Yozdek regretted now not using right there and then the provisions in the law which would have allowed him to exercise his option to incarcerate Qijerrik summarily. If only he had imprisoned him, indefinitely or even executed him, instead of banishing him?

Zakhertan had repeated the same haunting question thousands of times and each time the same regret, recrimination, hurt, disappointment, furious rage, and bitterness gripped his heart, in that merciless, wrenching grip. Had he done that, he would have spared himself the mortifying, wounding torment of knowing that his beloved son, his own flesh, and blood, was capable of such treachery against him and all he stood for.

There was one other in the family, his youngest sister, who had likewise betrayed him; but Zakhertan had understood and eventually forgiven her for her misplaced loyalty, for she’d from the first, been deeply infatuated (besotted) with her husband, Lord Shonne Gulbrand. But to be so betrayed by his once beloved son was something Zakhertan had never expected or imagined as a possibility. Each time that memory surfaced, the same fierce indignation and fury welled up from the depths of his soul and he suffered that akin, bittersweet sensation of bile rising to his mouth, as the day Prince Qijerrik’s war slogans had reached his ears.

06- QIJERRIK YOZDEK  (3)JP

Zakhertan’s eyes had burned with intense heat from reading those seditious adages posted for all to see in the towns’ squares, which rallied the populous restive and ripe, for an all-out rebellion. Those contemptible words (like gnawing parasites) were permanently etched (engraved) in his brain. One of those had said: “Arise good people who has suffered for so long under the severity of despotic Zakhertan Yozdek's oppressive regime, time to oppose his repressive laws and demand reckoning for the wrongs that had never been redressed; unite and take up arms, for yours is the righteous cause!”    

“My son, my most beloved son; how deeply you’d injured me!”  Zakhertan’s mouth presently, creased into a grimace of pain for each one of those seditious words had been a stiletto in Zakhertan’s heart and the damage hence, had been irreparable.

Zakhertan would have judged Qijerrik more leniently, had all this been done because of high ambition, Prince wanting to seize the throne for himself; that Zakhertan could have lived with, but Qijerrik had taken on the mantle of a liberator.     

This had been unforgivable, and it had unleashed the culmination of all that unbridled fury Zakhertan Yozdek had amassed in him; consequently, he had acted swiftly and more savagely than ever before to bring about total devastation of innumerable (myriad) Wenjenkuners.

 

(END OF SECTION 5)