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/

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 9

 Nevetsecnuac, having decided to meet Zaur halfway then, more clearly proceeded to solicit (request) Zaur Stugr's help, "If it would not be too much of an imposition (trouble) Minister Stugr, perhaps you could entrust it to the proper authorities so that, in keeping with my promise to Yakkasar, it may be returned to the pit in question.  I would be most appreciative if you would inform me also of the further developments, especially ones leading to resolving this rather intriguing (fascinating) mystery."

Expressing moderate curiosity, Zaur Stugr graciously accepted the task of handling this trivial matter at his earliest convenience. 

01 ZAUR STUGR JP 12

"And perhaps there may be other historical artifacts that would be of importance, warranting excavation at the site." he smiled mischievously. Then as if in an afterthought, Zaur gravely added, "Of course this province is riddled with many such graves and pits of varying sizes, containing skeletons, corpses of indicted dissidents, cadaver of convicts and traitors, whom all of course, richly deserved their ill fate.”

“In any case best to be prudent, with this investigation and in enlisting help. Then there is the requirement for a permit, which I must attain, from the works department. But I may need more data…”   He abruptly looked up at Fradel.

After a seeming hesitancy and purposeful pause, proclaiming that he needed this in case the authorities questioned him on it, Zaur urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to jog his memory about the specifics of the topography or any other identifying landmarks in the vicinity of the pass which may assist in quicker resolve or at least, an educated guess as to its location.

Fradel agreed to this, with a lowered head, pretended to be lost in deep thought for a time, presumably jogging his memory.

 Zaur (with a puckered brow) grimacing, studied Fradel for a moment; then with an affable tone, introduced a suggestion. "This may help; from the details you've offered already, I've deduced that it could be Kneco, Cyprecox, or Yeruz Pass."

Nevetsecnuac pretending to have just then recollected some pertinent facts, cried out, " Yes, that's it, the very one. I remember now.  It was the Cyprecox Pass that Yakkasar was headed for.  Though he did refer to Kneco Pass, it was at a different time and in an entirely unrelated context."

"Now you're quite certain about this?" Zaur studied Fradel with concealed anxiety.

"Quite certain," Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reaffirmed then, pretending that he'd remembered more of what Yakkasar had told him, readily volunteered (furnished) more specifics (details) regarding the location, much to Zaur's satisfaction.

"Well, this night's conversation has been quite dynamic and rather fruitful (productive).  Thank you for presenting me with this most intriguing opportunity; I'll do all that I can to resolve this mystery for you." Zaur Stugr promised earnestly, quickly dismissing Fradel’s uttered, profuse gratitude.

Smiling affably, he then begged Fradel's indulgence and patience, cautioning the scholar not to get his hopes up too high, for the truth once uncovered, might not be as enriching or colorful as supposed (or imagined).

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) politely yawned to express his fatigue, and then quickly proposed (suggested) that they should retire for the night.

Finding this most agreeable, Zaur signaled for the servant in attendance, to have the repast be cleared soon as they left; after which he solicitously (ushered) escorted Fradel to his sleeping quarters, before retiring himself to his own suite.

                                                                                               ~

Short time later, when all were tucked and happily sleeping under their warm quilts, Zaur Stugr quietly rose from his bed and going over, retrieved a small flagon (flask) he kept in the second drawer of the night table. Removing the seal, he gulped (ingested), enough of the special tonic, which quickly (in a short span) deleted the ill effects of excessive drinking and restored one’s full faculties.  Zaur next, taking special care not to wake any of his personal servants, washed his face, swiftly changed his clothes and quietly snuck outside.

02- ZAUR STUGR

Though Nevetsecnuac's speculation had come exceedingly close to the truth, he could not have imagined the depth of gravity that this key had held for Zaur Stugr.

Zaur, very much sobered now by his pumping adrenaline, held out a small oil lamp before him to illuminate the way, as he hastily proceeded with determined steps through a maze of hallways and garden paths.  Eventually he arrived at the old study on the far side of the East wing.

The wing had been sealed off ever since Kokone Iver, the previous owner's beloved third concubine committed suicide after being sexually assaulted (violated, raped) by one of, Rujune Iver’s esteemed house guests.  The strange gruesome apparition who had persistently haunted (appeared in) the hallways after her tragic demise, was attributed to her restless, unavenged spirit.

The perpetrator guest rapist, called Lord Nirekel Konuer, had at the time been far too powerful and too well connected to the higher officials; and so, despite Rujune Iver's efforts to bring him to justice, he had escaped punishment.

The subsequent grave rift that had existed as consequence, between Rujune Iver and Lord Nirekel Konuer, had outlasted the culprit Nirekel’s eventual horrific demise from a mysterious, sudden ailment.

 The hostility between the Konuer and Iver Clans had in due course, fostered some violent repercussions; especially since, the rumors concerning Rujune’s visits to a famous shaman in the workers' quarters, and this having something to do with Lord Nirekel’s sudden, macabre death, had persisted for many a year. And despite the absence of any solid evidence, the incidences of savage retributions, the bloodshed continued (to rock the Capital) for quite some length of time to eventually die down. 

But not before Rujune Iver, having been persecuted unmercifully by Lord Nirekel Konuer's ardent cliques, had eventually lost the favor he had at court and, having been subsequently charged with treason, suffered the extreme death penalty.  Unfortunately, this had meant the extinction of his entire clan, including his wife and concubines as well as, all the family's property (estate) being confiscated by the state.  Yet, because of the purported haunting of the East wing, this otherwise exceptional mansion in the heart of the Capital had remained unsold and untenanted (vacant).

Zaur was only a minor official but one with promising future at that time and had just been transferred to a more lucrative posting in the Capital.  Not being superstitious in the least and assured that no senior official wanted the property, he was quick to seize this opportunity and procure Rujune Iver’s magnificent mansion for an affordable price.  Seeing that it was to his advantage to continue, the purported belief in the haunting Zaur gave outward credence to the stories and sealed off the East wing, declaring it off limits to everyone and all his staff.

03-GHOST Kokone Iver  IN THE EAST WING

Then covertly engaging trusted workmen, he had a secret tunnel constructed directly into the unused wing from a niche in the outer wall.  Zaur Stugr’s planning and vigilance had paid off and, unknown to his family and staff, he henceforth had conducted all clandestine matters on these premises.

For over five years now, with none the wiser to the comings and goings, he had been able to establish a vast underground web of alliance and intrigue that had escaped all detection.  This was no small feat for the Sovereign possessed an elite and very effective Secret Police (as well as, the ruthless Black Band Guard Regiment) in addition to the rival spy networks established by Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries (also affiliated with The Black Molochs).

Halting before a tall, green door Minister Zaur Stugr thumbed the keys at his belt and, finding the right one, inhaled deeply to steady him-self before he turned it in the lock.  Lifting the latch, he opened the door softly.  Only the rush of air leaving the room disturbed the quiet of the night.  Stepping inside, his eyes briefly perused the rare antiquities that adorned the shelves, the countless valuable scrolls that were housed in specially constructed wall units that took up two walls all on their own, the plush sofa off in the corner and the desk with its neat pile of documents awaiting his decisions.  Things were exactly as he had left them.  Reassured, he turned and bolted the door behind him. He walked over the desk and opening the top drawer took out the certain (booby trapped) letter his agent Kaelan had delivered to him a week before Fradel Rurik Korvald’s arrival.

He’d been so burdened (engaged) playing host to illustrious scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald in addition to his other Ministerial duties that he had deferred this matter till later time. In truth he was still undecided about what to do about the letter (whom his agent had retrieved from the dead body of the doomed courier Disaidun Agripe otherwise known as Miss Jepipi), which had been the source of Lord Shouzi Yozdek’s blackmail for about two years by The Black Molochs.

Zaur could not help smiling, knowing how infuriated Egil Viggoaries must have been, when word reached him that the letter had been lost to him.  How many must have suffered consequently.

“Unfortunately, the plan had not gone as well as he’d anticipated; for Zunrogo Tugo was still alive and well… Hmm, the cur must have found out about the switch and kept it quiet. “

“Oh well you can’t win them all.”  Zaur shrugged.

“As for the letter…” Zaur shook his head. “It can wait.”  Unfortunately, at present he was too pressed for time to deal with this, when other more pressing matters (issues) and tasks demanded his attention first; and so, he quickly put it back in the top drawer and closed it.

Advancing with deliberate strides, he veered around the long, ornate desk until he reached a specific wall unit on the far wall.

 Holding up the oil lamp, he pulled out one specific scroll and placed it on the desk.  Then, putting his hand into the slot from which he had retrieved the document, he applied a firm pressure with his index finger to a groove in the lower left corner of the exposed wall.  Immediately the entire wall slid noiselessly aside to expose a hidden room behind.

Air tinged with musk rushed out at once to assail his nostrils as pitch darkness greeted his eyes.  Crinkling up his nose, Zaur shook his head.  He had not been in this room for some time and due to obvious neglect, everything was shrouded in an inch deep snow of dust that now whirled about, stirred by the air from the outer study.

“First thing tomorrow I must have Zyerne clean this place up.  This disorder is inexcusable.”

For now, the space was in immediate need of ventilation.  He looked around in the lamplight at the mass of volumes packed up all the walls until he spied on one small window high up next to the ceiling, hidden from the outside by a set of elaborate eaves.

 Striding over, he positioned a sturdy chair beneath the aperture and pried the shutter open just a crack, just enough to let in the fresh air he needed to relieve his lungs of this (ever-present) invasive constriction.  He winced as he reflected how this hidden room had been designed by the long dead original architect more like a vault of an elaborate tomb than a study.  Its purpose had been obvious but, incredibly, Rujune Iver’s demise had come too fast for him to have made use of its contents to his own advantage.  Fortunately for Zaur, these carefully catalogued documents, containing amassed evidence against the most prominent (noble, patrician) aristocratic families and the vast reserve of valuables and cash secreted in this room, had escaped detection by the court's investigators when the property had been confiscated (impounded) by the state.  With his analytical mind, keen sense, and deductive reasoning, Zaur Stugr had been the only one to, shortly after acquiring the property; discover this invaluable chamber's existence.

Stepping down, he walked back to the entrance.  From there he took the familiar measured paces, first straight ahead, then to the left, and then to the right then again left.

About five years ago, he had further discovered several vaults, each laden with cache (stockpiles, hoards) of gold, silver, and jewels, beneath the ingeniously designed, geometric marble- flooring. 

Depending on the combination of serious of consecutive (successive) steps and the pressure put on by one’s own weight, the specific squire floor tile would rise and then move aside to reveal an opening with the descending stairs leading to that specific vault’s contents. 

Right now, however, he was only after one of his own constructions.

Squatting, he placed the lamp off to one side, loosened the specific floor tile with his bare hands, lifted it and dug out a slightly tarnished metal box from its hiding place.  Meticulously, he brushed the dust from it then, with trembling hands, positioned his newly acquired bejeweled key over the keyhole on the box's side.

Suddenly his heart was seized with apprehension.  “What if this key's construction was merely a bizarre coincidence?  What if it did not match this box at all?” 

In the past he had attempted everything he could think of to open this unyielding encasement but without the least bit of success.  The unusual metal, the design and construction of the box had resisted any attempt at tampering with it. 

He exhaled, “Well, there's only one way to find out.”

With certain determination he placed the key into the hole, and, to his great elation, it turned, moving long unused tumblers inside the locking mechanism.  His heart pounded wildly.  At long last it was now within his means to uncover the secret long buried within! 

But then he hesitated, and his expression gradually hardened to mirror his troubled thoughts.

“What if now, after all this time…,” dejectedly he shook his head. 

“Anyhow, what good would it do?”  In his mind's eye he could see the accusing finger stubbornly pointed at him and at the same time a strong sense of foreboding gripped his heart.

“No!  Right or wrong, I could not have confided in Sanzo.  Not after the disclaimer.”

Eventually he picked up the lamp and, rising to his feet once more with the box in his other hand, walked over and sat down (sunk his body) on the plush sofa by the desk.  Absently he stared at the box for some time, affectionately caressing it, letting his fingers trace out the curved indentations which mimicked exactly the design of the key.  He noted how, in one corner they were scaled exactly to the size of the key. “Odd,” he mused, “it’s as if there's a purpose to it.”

 Struck by a sudden intuition, he took the key from the lock and placed it sideways on against the corner, noting how it fit snugly into the carved design.  Inside the box more tumblers moved.

“So, there was a disarming mechanism as well.”  Zaur Stugr was glad he had not rushed to open the obvious booby-trapped box.

A sad, aggrieved (wounded, pained, hurt) expression just then took hold of his features.

“It’s been so long, so very long!”

(END OF SECTION 9) 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 21

 

After the scholar Fradel had left the room, Yenis hung her head, pouting for a long while, as seething anger stirred within her.  Eventually putting her disappointment and rage forcefully aside, she reclined and attempted in earnest to get some sleep.  Still, her melancholy and irritation drove away any sleep and she stayed fully awake most of that night, wrapped in a despondent, fitful mood, suffering from emotions and thoughts that obstinately refused to go away.

In the next room, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) had spread out his overcoat next to a dry wall, rolled his outer garments up into a neat bundle and placed them under his head as he lay down to sleep.  Hearing a stirring behind him, he instantly turned and sat bolt upright.

Luminous, swirling vapors circled the center of the room, finally settling to reveal the apparitions of three handsomely clad monks kneeling to face him in supplication, flanked by two novices carrying lamps which glowed with a cold fire. 

Rising to his feet, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) was about to accost them when the center monk bowed low on courtesy and, in a resounding voice, gave solemn greetings to him invoking the name Prince Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir. He then added:

"Abbot Tuho respectfully requests an audience with Your Highness.  Please follow us."

Not waiting for Nevetsecnuac's reply, they rose to their feet in unison and, bowing, floated out of the room.

"Please wait up, sirs."  Nevetsecnuac grabbed the bundle of garments and rushed outside after them trying, as he moved, to clothe himself decently.  Everything outside was bathed in unnatural, cool daylight, its beauty almost taking Nevetsecnuac ‘breath away.  All had been transformed into the exact semblance of its former glory.  In the splendor of the days before the monk's demise Nevetsecnuac noted the red columns, inlaid with jewels lining the halls.  Cut diamond chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling, their brilliance mirrored in the smooth marble of the floors.  Brilliantly colored murals surrounded every door and, flanking the portals, tall, lifelike statues stood sentry over the rare fragrances wafting in from the courtyard outside.

Nevetsecnuac passed through polished white terraces, over petal strewn paths checkered by the cold sun's golden rays, and around crystalline ponds housing darting goldfish.  Rare birds sang joyously from branches adorned with spring flowers, their melody in perfect consonance with the monk's lugubrious harmonies and the rhythmic pealing of bells.  All was so indescribably beautiful, so entrancingly transient and serene that Nevetsecnuac felt as if he was in a heavenly palace among the immortals.

Returning inside, he trod on plush carpeting, so soft he felt he was walking on clouds and noted with interest the identities of the idols that inhabited the great hall.  His wish to stop and pay his proper respects to these gods, however, was overridden by the monks' unwillingness to wait.  After a slight bow from the waist, he picked up his steps and rushed after the monks, who had very nearly vanished from view.  Seeing them disappear behind a large set of doors, he followed their lead and entered the Great Hall, where some seven or eight hundred monks, draped in magnificent capes, had already assembled. 

Separated into two neat groups arrayed around the center like a palm leaf, they were kneeling, hands clasped, in absolute obeisance (homage, respect) to the surprisingly young-looking Abbot, who was sitting in his golden cloud-patterned high-backed chair, positioned at left, center of the dais (platform). Abbot was the only one that did not have his eyes closed in deep trance.  Behind him at slightly lower podium, in intricately carved chairs set, the key (prominent)administrative priests, other high-ranking staff and scribes. etc. 

Instructed to wait at the door by the portal's guards, Nevetsecnuac watched his three guides take their respective places, close their eyes and strike the same pose as the rest. 

The two novices brought their lighted staffs to Nevetsecnuac's side and quietly led him up to the Abbot's dais.  His eminence’s eyes were at first lowered (half-closed) in contemplative pose, as if in prayer, his manner, serene yet imposing and dignified.

Nevetsecnuac waited until the golden-haired, most august-looking Abbot Tuho finally looked up and smiled at Nevetsecnuac.  

02- ABBOT TUHO

At once, Nevetsecnuac bowed his head reverently to the Abbot, who solemnly reciprocated (returned) the bow, then placed his palms together before his chest then raised it to his forehead in the traditional greeting.

Coming forward next, the Abbot took Nevetsecnuac's hands and, smiling warmly, said,

"It’s very kind of Your Highness to honor us with your presence.  May we now request that Your Highness permit us to show proper and due respect as well as our boundless gratitude."

He ushered Nevetsecnuac into a seat of honor, a magnificent high-backed chair intriguingly carved with a dragon motif, bearing the Seal of the reign of Nevetsecnuac's grandfather, on a singly higher podium to the right.

"This is where His Majesty, Zuronghan Therran Valamir, always sat to receive our oaths of fealty.  This honor is now conferred on to you, Your Highness."

03- NEVETSECNUAC BEING HONORED

 After Nevetsecnuac, with all due modesty, took up his seat, Abbot Tuho, the elder monks, the Prior, the Abbot's assistant, the Deacon, the two senior scribes and all others arrayed themselves by rank in single file to the accompaniment of bells, drums and gongs.

 When all was still once more, the long procession of monks came forward in measured steps and, one by one, knelt and touched their foreheads reverently to the floor before Nevetsecnuac.  Each one proclaimed their fealty and gratitude to him.  Their resounding, rippling words permeated the air of the Great Hall with an aura of auspicious light.

Just then a scented breeze wafted through the Hall and the ceiling of the Great Hall parted with reverberating thunder.  All eyes(heads) turned upwards; Nevetsecnuac, the Abbot and all the monks without exception, immediately and with reverence (of this miracle), had dropped to their knees, mutely expressing deep gratitude to all the Gods, Immortals and Royal lineage, for this special (favor) blessing.

 Nevetsecnuac with misted eyes observed high above him, hosted by various Gods riding the backs of Dragons, his majestic grandfather, his father, and the other members of the Royal family, all, peering down at him from the luminous clouds and approvingly smiling at him. 

Subsequently, after all the revered beings had departed and the ceiling once more sealed (closed up), Abbot Tuho wreathed in smiles coming forth, invited Nevetsecnuac to a feast in the huge dining hall of the Abbey, to commemorate this auspicious occasion.  They took up their respective seats and happily partook (consumed, shared) the delightful array of exotic fruits from distant lands and sundry, intercontinental vegetarian dishes; meanwhile, from silver goblets all drunk heartily the refreshing liquids to quench their rising thirsts, while they listened to the soothing melodies of the harp.

During dinner Nevetsecnuac, seizing an opportunity, politely asked Abbot Tuho for his guidance.

"All is to be done according to Heaven's will."  The Abbot paused and then, in a quiet, serious voice, added, "Your Highness, you must remember that perceived reality is an illusion, and things are rarely what they seem.  Lay your trust in the unlikely one and pluck out the root of evil implanted in the abandoned son."

"Help…Help!  Save me!"  A sudden, desperate cry shook Nevetsecnuac into wakefulness.

He found himself, fully dressed, seated on a wooden crate in the middle of the large, dilapidated hall.  Only the moonlight, streaming through the broken windows and the gaps in the walls illuminated his way.  It was most fortunate that he had marked the area well during the day's surveying, for now he had to blindly rush back to Yenis' room.  She was obviously in mortal danger.

When he reached the outside of her door he hesitated to enter for a moment or two and knocked instead.  "Are you all, right?" he inquired, afraid she may not be decent; afraid she may only be having a nightmare.

"Ay!  Get away from me!  Help me, Master Fradel!  Save me!"

Her shout quickly made up his mind for him.  Forsaking propriety, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) burst inside; to apprehend the culprit but he found no such person there.

 She was sitting, all alone, on the edge of the bedding, trembling in fright.  Soaked in perspiration, her diaphanous inner garment clung tightly to her body, attenuating the outlines of her exposed bosom as it swelled and heaved with her gasps.

Embarrassed, Fradel lowered his eyes to the ground at once, muttering apologies for the intrusion, and started to take his leave.

"Please don't go.  I'm so frightened." the girl pleaded in a quivering, provocative voice.

"Don't be." Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) assured her, his eyes still pinned to the ground.

"It's your taut nerves that are playing tricks on you.  It was only a bad dream.  I'll light this torch and leave it here for you, if you like."

"But I really did see someone sinister lurking about.  It was not a dream, I swear it!" in a tragic tone she protested.

 "I was not asleep yet.  Truly there was someone in my room.  I did not get to see his face, but he stood over there, as surely as I am here…A monstrously big man with grizzled red hair and blazing beard."

"That's impossible." Fradel shook his head.  "This room has no windows and no other openings besides the door I just came in.  I made sure of that earlier.  How could he appear out of thin air?"  He was beginning to lose patience with her.

"You're mocking me.", she said indignantly, pouting, puckering her lips. "Has it occurred to you that there might be a secret passage here that you might have overlooked?"

"No, that was ruled out when I thoroughly searched this room earlier."  Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was unrelenting, but softened his tone to urge her, without turning around, "Please do not be afraid and try to get some rest."

04- YENIS LUKO

"Oh, please, I implore you, don’t go." She whimpered (moaned) seductively, then rushed over to tug at his sleeve.

 "I don't care if you believe me or not, just don't leave me alone.  I'm sorry if I spoke harshly just then."  Stomping her foot, she rebuked him gently, "You just don't care what happens to me; you obviously don’t! But how can you be so heartless to leave me here all alone without any protection?"

 Weeping, she ran back and threw herself on the bedding.  "I'm afraid.  What if he comes back?" she looked up to ask, despairingly.

Recalling the other set of footprints in the tunnel, the large ones paralleling those of Yenis, which she’d claimed to have had no knowledge of, and remembering the Abbot's parting injunction that ‘things are not what they seemed’, Fradel stopped.  The girl was frightened in earnest.  Perhaps there was something in what she claimed, for that odd sensation of being watched by unseen eyes gnawed at him again.

 "Well, all right." he acquiesced with his back still towards her.  "You may rest easy; I’ll stand guard outside the door."  He closed the door after him then sat down with his back against it.

Is this scholar made of flesh and bone? Nevertheless, comforted by his presence outside, shrugging her shoulders, Yenis closed her eyes to sleep.

 Oh well, there will be plenty of other opportunities.  Resigned to this night’s temporary setback, she yawned a few more times then, rolling over, soon drifted into blissful sleep for the remainder of the night.

 

(END OF SECTION 21)

                                                                                        ~

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 6

Svein (Nevetsecnuac) and Fradel Rurik Korvald (riding on horseback) were still some distance away from any settlement or an Inn when dusk fell.  As if to multiply Fradel's misery, suddenly strong winds ushered a flotilla of dark, ominous clouds, which threatened to let loose a downpour at any time.

 Just then they sighted a thatched hut in the distance, and, in silent agreement, they both steered their horses towards it.  Obvious signs told them that the place had long been abandoned. Two lonely graves outside and a stench rising from the well attested to the tragic story of its residents.

Nevetsecnuac pushed the door open with an eerie creak and, lighting a torch quickly surveyed the dilapidated state of the interior.  The lit torch at once caused the infestation of rodents, lizards and insects to scurry away.

Nevetsecnuac brushed away the cobwebs then pushed the broken furniture and debris to one side to clear out a corner.  Inviting Fradel to rest there, he went back outside to secure the horses and meet their requirements for food and water.  When he returned Nevetsecnuac found that Fradel had made good use of this time to clear out the stove and start a small fire using kindling and charcoal chips that littered the floor.

So, he's not as helpless without servants as he claimed. Nevetsecnuac mused.  Good!

That night, sheltered from the wind and rain, for the roof leaked in only one or two places, they shared dry rations boiled over the fire to make a stew.  Fradel, more accustomed to wine and savory dishes, consumed a good share of this food without complaint, washing it down with water.  To Nevetsecnuac’s relief, the pampered scholar had proved adaptable and, more to the point, resilient.

After they retired Fradel found it impossible to sleep.  The excitement of that day, the eerie atmosphere of the room, the pelting rain on the roof, his hard makeshift (improvised) bedding and the coarse food had all conspired to keep him awake.  As the night progressed his distress became even more acute.

Now every shadow, every sound stretched his nerves taut.  Several ugly visages leered menacingly at him from the dark corners of the room but when he sat up and stubbornly fixed them with his stare they reverted back to ordinary objects.  Again, he shot occasional glances in Svein's direction and seeing him in deep slumber, suppressed an urge to grunt a would-be protest, “For Heaven’s sake, how can you sleep so soundly?”

Exhausted, Fradel reclined once more, then becoming aware of someone else's presence, he jumped up. This time, however, the apparition (ghost, phantom) was outside of the window.  As the window had no covering, he walked towards it and at the same time strained his eyes to see through the dark, the just then manifest, vacillating (fluctuating) iridescent specter.   The form drawn to closer proximity, become clearer, and he could now make out the tragic countenance of an elderly woman, which presently stretched out her arms in supplication and sobbed: “Save me, sir!  Save me!” 

Fradel was about to respond when, suddenly, out of the pitch darkness, three fearsome black wolves materializing (emerging), leapt upon her and sank their long fangs into her flesh; with such a voracious appetite, their prey (target) was instantaneously gone. Subsequently, crunching the last remanence of bones and lapping up the victim's blood, the trio of wolves licked their fur clean, thence, all three menacingly directed their attention on Fradel. They pivoted their blazing eyes on Fradel and began advancing towards him with deliberate slowness, with their tongues lolling, drooling at the mouth, as they panted.

Fradel, recoiling in terror, could not move a muscle, especially since one of the black wolves suddenly appeared inside and right beside him.

Fradel, resigned to his fate, held his breath and closed his eyes, expecting to be mauled, disemboweled and eaten to the last morsel by the rapacious wolves; unexpectedly however, the beasts simply vanished, when Sven just then stirred and, without turning to face him, asked: "What is it?”

"Nothing, nothing at all; it was just a bad dream (nightmare).  I'm sorry to have awakened you."

 Of course, Fradel's disclaimer was belied by the beads of perspiration on his forehead.  He tasted their salt as they dripped onto his lips; currently back on his hard bedding, he sullenly reclined and turned his back to Svein, as if to sleep.

 My strained nerves are playing tricks on me. Fradel consoled himself.  I'd best try to get some sleep.  With determination he closed his eyes tight but, just as he was about to drift off into the dream world, a rustling sound piqued his curiosity, and he once more lifted his eyelids to investigate.

This time his eyes beheld, in the center of the room, an enchanting, most beautiful fairy maiden’s apparition. Furthermore, smiling most alluringly at Fradel, she beckoned to him.  As he sat upright to acknowledge her, she suddenly turned into Cobarkek who, gritting his teeth, glowered at Fradel.

The scholar was seized with an inexplicable terror, recalling the bandit chief's last words to him, “I will deal with you later.”

He was about to call out to Svein when Cobarkek's head detached itself from his body, floated upwards and began to spin.  When it stopped, just in front of Fradel, the mouth opened wide and a reptilian, double-pointed tongue lashed out and coiled itself tightly around Fradel's neck, choking him.  Fradel struggled in vain to free himself, gasping for breath.

Again, Svein stirred, and Cobarkek's head simply vanished.

 Fradel found the culprit to be nothing more than the loosened strips of his head bandage that had fallen down around his neck.  Just as he was about to laugh at his own folly, Cobarkek's ghost reappeared.  Once more the scholar recoiled in terror as he watched the phantom metamorphosis into a frightful demon with grizzled red hair, blue face, glittering eyes, a saw-toothed razor-sharp grin and a blood red flickering tongue.  With green slime oozing from its four nostrils and its six arms flailing it advanced towards Fradel.  Paralyzed from the neck down, Fradel opened his mouth to cry for help, but no sound was issued forth.

As the scholar was struggling to scream, Svein suddenly sprang to his feet and hacked the demon into two halves with one blow.  Both halves toppled to the floor, motionless, giving off a dense bluish vapor that settled into a putrid mass which oozed under the floorboards.

Svein turned to smile reassuringly at Fradel, "It's all over now, go back to sleep."  Then, quite unruffled, he lay down once more, facing the wall, to fall asleep.

Fradel leaned over to ask, in amazement, "Aren't you afraid?"

"I used to be", Svein confessed.  "When I was younger, but now I know there is nothing to be afraid of."  He shrugged his shoulders under his blanket.

 "This is to be expected.  All abandoned places have their share of ghosts and demons, but they can only harm us if we let them."

Fradel nodded and also reclined in order to sleep once more.  He was very comforted by Svein's presence and, gradually, his heartbeat returned to normal.  Drawing closer, he whispered his thanks to Svein but the other just let out a disquieting laugh and, when Svein turned around to face Fradel, he wore Cobarkek's face.

With a start Fradel awoke and sat up, a crazy gleam playing in his eyes.  When he steadied his heart once more, he realized that all of it had been a dream.  But was it really?  He had an eerie feeling about it all.

At the far corner a huge rat was gnawing at an empty flour bag as it flashed its red eyes at him.  Standing up, Fradel strolled to the window and peered outside.  It was just before dawn and he saw Svein harnessing the horses, anxious to be on the road again.

Before they left, on Fradel's insistence, they dug a new grave and fished the corpse out of the well.  Despite the decayed condition of the body, Fradel at once recognized the old lady in his dream.  Giving her a proper burial next to the other two mounds, they allowed the poor woman to find lasting peace in the afterlife with her husband and daughter.

Svein then mounted his horse and urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to follow suit.

 Looking back on the three small mounds, another painful memory intruded into Fradel's thoughts.  In a deep silence he hung his head; his face was long and drawn as he reflected over this past, tragic episode.  Absentmindedly he pivoted his mount around and let it follow Fiery Comet onto the open road. 

(END OF SECTION 6)