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)    

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 6

Nevetsecnuac had felt a twinge of pain as the blade had, just then, carelessly, or perhaps deliberately; cut a thin sliver into the flesh across his throat, making the blood trickle down both sides of his neck.

Unflinching, Nevetsecnuac smiled at Zonar Kuntzu.  "I'm ready for another bout (session), in fact I’ve been looking forward to break (end) this tiresome monotony; however, you must first excuse my unceremonious greeting of you."  He then shifted to lessen Zonar ‘s hold, but try as he might, he found himself solidly pinned, trapped under the other's oppressive hold.  Worse still, he could feel the blood coursing in his veins gradually ebbing (slowing down, fading)  robbing his vitals, his entire body, of the essential lifegiving force; that same instance, he felt as if slipping into a catatonic state, limbs weighed down like a solid rock or a huge bronze pot in defiance of his will,  refusing to budge even in the slightest.

Zonar Kuntzu seemed oblivious to this impediment; he only noted the fleeting shadow of concern registering in Nevetsecnuac's eyes and so, Zonar grinned, "You hesitate? Lest you fear, I have only lost miniscule faction of my powers?"

“Well, do you wish to fight me or not?  I never pegged you for a spineless opponent!” He let go and stood away. “I’ll give you a headway in strike, go on!”

Nevetsecnuac wished to respond but he could neither part his lips, nor was he able to utter the slightest sound; instead, only a frustrated, guttural (rasping, rough) gurgling came from his throat.

 

01- ZONAR CHALLENGES NEVETSECNUAC  ONCE MORE

 

Zonar’s subsequent response was baffling to Nevetsecnuac, especially since the other looked as if offended (aggrieved, angry, hostile) for a fleeting moment or two- by some perceived, brazen, insulting declaration (challenge) issued forth from Nevetsecnuac’s mind.

"You are far too reckless or brave, goading me so; nevertheless, I’m in no hurry to end your life, not just yet.  Not before I have some fun, but I fear it may prove to be no contest at all and, worse still, it may even bore me."  Pursing his lips disdainfully, Zonar, so uncharacteristically, coldly ejected and then shrugged.

 "After all, I do possess an unfair advantage over you.  Or have you so readily forgotten how I'm now very well acquainted with your fighting style, as well, know your innate (inadequacies) limitations? “

“That's right, suffice to say that what we shared before, glorious as it may have seemed to you, was only a trifling test run.  What you encountered then, and found so hard to defend against, even after the loss of my talisman, was but one twentieth of my force and ability."  Suddenly Zonar’s countenance turned dark and his expression fierce.

 "Damn you!" he swore, gritting his teeth.

"Why the hell did you not stay where you were safe, instead of paying a pilgrimage to that worthless Heaven's Gate Spiritual Temple, the den of mercenaries and spies?  That vile, cursed place should have been razed to the ground long ago, along with all the rest.  You thought they would be worthy of your trust because they were duty-bound (obligated), functioning under the cloak of faith?  Now, regrettably, you will have to be slayed.  You will all have to be eradicated (eliminated), including your newborn twin son and daughter."

Zonar grimaced wryly, then added thoughtfully, "Yes, save for one; your wife, who has been promised a safe delivery into the hands of Emperor Deng Hedenko of Kontu, by my Sovereign Lord (of Korion), therefore, sending me on this execrable quest (odious mission).  But alas, I his loyal subject have been entrusted with this task."

 

02- EMPEROR OF KONTU DENG HEDNEKO

 

"What!  Lord Asger (Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon) and the twins will all be killed?  My wife… my precious, beautiful Teuquob, will be at the mercy of Deng Hedenko, that rancorous (malign) villain?"

Zonar’s announcement (declaration) had sent a terrible lightning bolt (strike) through Nevetsecnuac's brain; next, an all-consuming, searing rage had coursed through his veins and exploded in his chest.  His soul recoiling in terror, he clenched his fists until his knuckles (turned white) cracked.

Externally, Nevetsecnuac’s face had contorted somewhat tragically, his eyes revealing only a fleeting glimpse of the raging, conflicting storm that tore up his spirit (core); with

remarkable will thence, he checked this rising fury that threatened to unhinge (unbalance) him. “No,” He determinedly rejected the present reality; and moments later common sense had edified (enlightened, informed) him to the truth, that this person before him, was someone other than Zonar.  Though he bore Zonar’s (likeness) physical form, had similar eccentric (quirky, odd) attributes- his innate character, his demeanor nevertheless was slightly off, and it could be said even quite odd (alien).

Nevetsecnuac could not rightly pinpoint the reason, but his intuition, the inner dread surmounted with the foreboding feeling just then, had thus constricted (confined, held, caged) his soul in a primordial vice (pure evil).

  

"I'll release you from the spell (incantation) that binds you, soon enough," Zonar meanwhile, had promised hardheartedly (stonily). "So that we may resume where we’d left off; however, I trust that, before your glorious end, you will furnish me with one more memorable battle."

"You'll have that, and more!" Nevetsecnuac hissed, his tongue now released from the oppressive hold to the utter amazement of Zonar.  For Nevetsecnuac somehow with his innate prowess (ability), had broken the spell. 

03 - NEVETSECNUAC BREAKS THE SPELL

“You never cease to amaze me.” But before Zonar could react and shoot out searing beams from his pupils, pre-emptively Nevetsecnuac's two fingers of his right hand had targeted Zonar's blazing eyes while the left hand grasped Zonar's wrist clutching the hilt of his sword.  In a contest of strength next, the blade was forced away from Nevetsecnuac’s throat and cast off to one side, as Nevetsecnuac simultaneously rolled his body, to pin Zonar under him on the wet ground.

“I will not be underestimating you again.” Zonar's glaring expression mutely warned.

"Give me one, just one good reason why I should spare your life." Nevetsecnuac demanded through gritted teeth as his right hand gripped Zonar's throat in a death hold.

"What duress, what measure of political liability (millstone) has Hedenko over your Sovereign that your liege would force such a cowardly onus (to murder innocent children and to abduct woman for delivery) onto you, his loyal subject?"

Half blinded by the blood oozing from his eye sockets, Zonar remained unrelenting and defiantly spat into Nevetsecnuac's face, gurgling, "Go to hell!"

Then, by no means helpless, in the ensuing contest of strength Zonar, the summoned sword’s hilt once more in his grip, his legs tightly wound around Nevetsecnuac's waist, the two, interlocked as they were, rolled until at one point they both went over the precipice and, after falling some measure as they scraped the jagged, protruding rocks, plummeted headlong into the depths of the lake.

Zonar, being the first to be freed from the choking, trapping net of submarine growth, swam ashore then, brandishing his sword in readiness to hack, watched, and waited for his adversary to surface next.  His fiery eyes, miraculously mended, combed the crystalline depths beneath the gently undulating waves; suddenly however, Nevetsecnuac sprang up out of the water and somersaulting in the air over Zonar's head, landed on his feet squarely behind him.

Turning around in a flash to confront Nevetsecnuac, Zonar grimaced at him wryly.  "I shall certainly miss your amusing calisthenics.  Perhaps Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, your aged, crippled teacher, could be persuaded to perform the same; that is, if he survives the first encounter with me."

Zonar was being deliberately provocative, hiding the fact that he had, in fact, felt a secret empathy and lasting admiration for that honorable old Lord, in view of all that he had heard and learned about him.

"Don't flatter yourself with your overrated confidence," came, Nevetsecnuac's hot retort.  Narrowing his eyes next, he demanded, "So, you still want to go through with this?"

"You expected less?"

"Then I shall be forced to stop you.  This time, however, you won't be cheating death so easily." Nevetsecnuac warned coldly.

In fact, he was stalling to attain more information about the informants, the spies inferred by Zonar, though he was not entirely sure how he would convey this vital message to Lord Asger Zhon once this adversary was bested (defeated) in combat.

04- NEVETSECNUAC

“Perhaps I would encounter another brave, loyal soul like Fradel Rurik Korvald, whom I can implicitly trust.” His reflections were just then rudely interrupted by Zonar's roaring laughter, "You?  You think you're capable of stopping me?”

After which he knitted his brows and bellowed at Nevetsecnuac, “Look who is overrating their skill!"

 Zonar pivoted away, then swung back again snorting angrily, "You talk so big, but what makes you think you're still good enough?"

 Zonar’s eyes (with no evidence of prior injury) completely restored to norm, he now narrowed his eyes and fiendishly warned: “If you had any sense, you would beg for mercy or flee to safety.  But I know your kind all too well.  You're so full of foolish notions of honor and idealism; you’ll never condescend (deign) to a reprehensible recourse (alternative, options) however reasonable, however sensible. “

“You are too foolhardy to concede (admit)to the truth, of what lies starkly before you, the evident hopelessness of your situation.  Blinded by faith you will hasten towards your death; go through hellfire, unflinchingly, wouldn't you, to achieve your goal?"

Zonar spat out the irate words, not giving Nevetsecnuac (single) any chance to respond.  "This you would do, despite the overwhelming odds against you, counting on posterity to log (register) your fame, relying only on Heaven's might to assist you in your righteous cause.  Hah!  Foolish martyrs that your kind always are, you would hasten to your death, never coming to grips with the Universal Truth: that man stands alone, fights alone, and dies alone, without any interference or least regard from Heaven.  After all, why should they take any heed in the mundane affairs of insignificant straw dogs like you?  One pitted against many?  Hah!  Courage and ability alone, however admirable, are not nearly enough when confronting a cunning, ruthless, formidable force.  Patience, good planning, strategy, and proper reinforcements are what are needed here most.  And don't think I don't know why you are headed to the Capital, Channing. “

He shook a reproachful finger at Nevetsecnuac.

"But I ask you, without all this that I have enumerated, how do you propose, I mean what makes you think that you will succeed where others have failed, and failed miserably?  You think that you're invincible?"

Nevetsecnuac just then was reminded of the magic brush, which Zonar had earlier gifted him and his had absentmindedly reached into his inner pocket (to retrieve it); but his hand failed to find it. It was gone!

“What are you searching for?”  Zonar growled.

Another evidence of a sure discrepancy in his character.  Nevetsecnuac, musing, looked down. Furthermore, Zonar’s inability to detect his thoughts (read, decipher his mind), confirmed Nevetsecnuac’s earlier suspicion that this person before him was only an impostor and a poor impersonator of Zonar at that, though assuredly, he was an assassin.

Nevetsecnuac sharply looked up to now say this, when Zonar just then clearly irritated, held up his hand, keeping any response from Nevetsecnuac. With his darkened countenance, he simply shook his head and next, scowling, looked away; but then shrugging his shoulders, he muttered: "Besides, what's the big urgency, eh?"

05-ZONAR KUNTZU -  (17)

Directing his gaze back at Nevetsecnuac he asked, "What are a few more years of waiting when twenty have already passed?  Unless” He opened his eyes wide. "Unless the secret had been revealed to you only recently…  Ah, now I understand.  It all makes sense."

Zonar nodded his head as conflicting emotions surged in his chest.  Once he, too, experienced Nevetsecnuac's type of impatience.

When he addressed Nevetsecnuac anew, his tone lacked the fire and brimstone, the remonstration, anger, and spite and was, instead, sympathetic and grave.

"Yes I, too, hold loyalty and filial piety as the duties most paramount to every man.  Though I care little for the affairs of your Country, I respect what you are aiming to achieve.”

“It is because I understand that I am now prepared to give you, sir, this leeway, this last chance, so that you may fulfill your life's objective.  All I ask, no, I demand in return is your promise of non-interference.  It is imperative that this condition be met for… then,”

“No, hear me out, first!"  He froze Nevetsecnuac's response with a gesture of his hand.

"Just take me on my word when I say that I cannot fail in my duty to my Sovereign Lord for, if I did, then dire, irreversible consequences would befall my Country. Fact is, we are forced by circumstance to bid our time; any premature deployment of our armies will prove disastrous, to say the least."  He had absentmindedly murmured this last phrase to himself as he had looked away then, reverting his piercing gaze back on Nevetsecnuac, he stressed, "Abide by this condition and I will spare your life and allow you to be on your way.  Otherwise, sir, I will not be held (accountable) responsible for what I will then be forced to do, for I have sworn to obliterate all opposition, however innocent, that stands in my way.  Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly…"  Nevetsecnuac answered sharply. “But it is most offensive to me, sir, that you would even consider proposing such an option to me.  More injurious still, you clearly expected an affirmative response."

 His voice rose with his mounting outrage, "How can I sacrifice the lives of those whom I'm sworn to protect?  How can I stand idly by and let you live to cause injury to Lord Asger Zhon, to my innocent son and daughter, and to let you abduct my wife and cast her into a fate far worse than death?  I will fight you, fight to the end of Earth if needs be, to prevent this from ever happening!"

"You sorely disappoint me, young man." Zonar's thunderous, reproachful voice interrupted Nevetsecnuac.  "Just whom do you bear your allegiance to?  Answer me this; what has been your prime objective all along, if not to avenge your forefathers?  For assured success, you should have hardened your heart.  Are you willing to risk it all for the sake of a mere woman, and an old man, and puny children?  Mark my words, this weakness will be your undoing."

"I'll be risking nothing since I do not intend to lose to you or any other.  Hence, your ominous prediction, sir, is unwarranted and farfetched."  Nevetsecnuac, though perplexed, retorted angrily.

"I thought I understood you well, but it seems I have erred." Zonar groaned, gritting his teeth.  Then, shifting his body impatiently, he scoffed, "I've wasted far too much precious time on you as it is, more than I cared to."

He was about to launch his deadly assault on Nevetsecnuac when, forcing restraint on himself, he stayed his hand and commanded, "Halt!  The Tokiro Code of the Warrior will not permit me to take on an unarmed foe."

Disregarding Nevetsecnuac's protest, he shot up into the air to land on the crest of the hill, disappearing shortly after.

"I've had just about enough of your stalling tactics.  I dare you to fight me now!" Nevetsecnuac shouted after him then, following suit, launched himself onto the hilltop.

Spotting Zonar in the distance, he rushed after him to engage him.

 Zonar, at first spreading the distance between them, swiftly delved into, then out of the previously hidden, deep cavern, to now stand at its gaping mouth with his feet firmly planted wide apart on the hard ground. With one difference, he was also armed with two sheathed swords, as he waited in a menacing pose with a scornful smile plastered on his lips, for Nevetsecnuac to catch up.

When Nevetsecnuac reached the right proximity, Zonar, shouted, “Catch!”, and in a flash, hurled one of the swords at him.

Nevetsecnuac, still running, reached out his hand and grasped the hilt of the sword in mid-air as it was about to sail by, instantly unsheathing it.

 "But what's this?"  Nevetsecnuac was taken aback, for this was not the sword he was expecting to have.  Rather it was Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon’s ancestral sword, the very one he had entrusted into Fradel Rurik Korvald's care.  He could not hide the fleeting horror in his eyes as he looked up to rivet his fiery, questioning gaze on Zonar.  Holding it up, he demanded in a fierce shout, "How did you come by this?"

The response was a roaring, earth-shaking laughter after which Zonar gnashed his teeth and confirmed Nevetsecnuac's worst fear, "Your head will soon be joining that of the man whose name you have assumed."

"And what possible danger did he pose to you, you are vile, despicable assassin?" Nevetsecnuac cursed furiously, his face knotted with rage.

"He was on his way to join up with Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, was he not? What difference would it make, then, where he expired?" Zonar retorted with sarcasm and a bemused smile as he shrugged his shoulders and scoffed.

06-NEVETSECNUAC  (32)

"You…You will pay for this outrage murdering swine!" Nevetsecnuac, in a passionate fury brandishing his sword, launched his deadliest assault on Zonar.

The opponent swiftly deflected the blow and, in a twirl, hacked back at Nevetsecnuac.

Nevetsecnuac, rendering this lethal onslaught ineffective, averted the sword's successive deadly strikes, then somersaulted into position to thrust the blade into Zonar's side; only to have Zonar swerve nimbly and miss it by a sliver.

The next instant they were interlocked in the fiercest, most fatal combat yet, that defied all description and made their previous clashes seem more like mere child's play.

Zonar proved as good as his boast and, during subsequent countless rounds, Nevetsecnuac, despite his competence, suffered severe wounds and serious, deep lacerations to his legs, arms, chest and face.

In the ensuing twenty or more bouts of fray, as Nevetsecnuac effectively confronted (tackled) Zonar's invincible prowess, even though he deflected a multitude of deadly blows, thrusts and strikes and, with his superb skill and agility, held his own for a long time, to later succeed in inflicting some serious wounds and slashes on Zonar, in the end, with his strength slowly ebbing, to his dismay Nevetsecnuac was forced to concede to the possibility of his probable (foreseeable) defeat.

Suddenly however, the images of his beloved (his uncle, wife, and children) manifesting in his mind’s eye, anew regenerated his fortitude and zeal.  Letting go a most fearsome, blood-curdling shout, Nevetsecnuac ducked, dived then executed his most brilliant, incredible maneuver yet, to in one lightning sweep of the blade sever (hack) Zonar's head at the neck (collar).

The bloody head, cleared off the torso, tumbled onto the ground and rolled some ways before being arrested by a rock.

Nevetsecnuac barely had time to reflect on his success, however, when, to his amazement and great horror, he witnessed the decapitated body of Zonar slowly rising from the ground to advance towards where the bloodied head lay still.  The head, meanwhile, quavered then, dislodged from the ground, simply hurled up and joined with the severed stump.

07 -ZONAR KUNTZU - 2 (33)

The head now on the nape and perfectly aligned, the bloody line sizzling and emitting a blue iridescence, subsequently dissolved, fused (bonded, merged) with the body.

Once more a whole being, Zonar suddenly opened his eyes wide and, turning burrowed his fiery gaze into Nevetsecnuac.

With a snarl on his lips he declared, "Fool!  You can't kill me!  Don’t you know you can't kill an immortal?”

“Ha!  Ha!  Hah!  Your best and only recourse would have been, is to take a flight… to scram. Now, I'll have your head and, your soul will be condemned for all eternity rot in Hell!"

Throwing his head back, Zonar first howled like a wolf, and then with an eerily laugh, launched anew his murderous assault on (a tad stunned) Nevetsecnuac.

 

"I'll show you how even an immortal can be killed!"  Though disheartened for a spell, Nevetsecnuac bravely thwarted each consecutive blow then shifted to an offensive with more lethal strikes. During the seemingly eternal, succession (series) of intense, pitched scuffle, Nevetsecnuac, nevertheless, soon realized that he could not exhaust this formidable foe even after hundreds more such skirmishes, let alone vanquish him.

 Same could not be said of Nevetsecnuac, for the incessant fierce combat eventually taking its toll, his stamina ebbed, and he was once more forced to fight defensively.

 In this dire circumstance, before Nevetsecnuac could further retaliate or utilize his only viable option to flee, Zonar, at lightning speed wielding three consecutive strikes with his indestructible sword, dealt Nevetsecnuac’s fate an irreversible, calamitous turn.

The first decisive blow broke the blade of Lord Asger’s ancestral sword, as if it were a tender twig, into two halves.  The second blow came from the hilt of Zonar's sword. It struck so hard on Nevetsecnuac's top of the head that it split-open an inch deep gash in his skull.  As Nevetsecnuac fought against disorientation, excruciating, throbbing pain, the dizzying, whirling, fast failing vision (eyesight), Zonar, glaring venomously at Nevetsecnuac, in a third strike, swung his sword wide to... Before Nevetsecnuac could ask, “Could this be the end?”  Whoosh … The raw blade in an instant severed Nevetsecnuac's head clean through at the nape of his neck.

 

(END OF SECTION 6)

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