LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 17

The ensuing days and nights the relentless journey passed in much the same way: during daylight hours riding as hard as the mare's endurance would allow it and, stopping briefly at nightfall, in some secluded safe spot (away from the main highway), to allow the animal to recoup part of her spent strength.

Eventually on the fifth day, the road ahead merged with the new major trading route that accordingly (according to general hearsay), would be winding its way alongside the river leading to, at some point, to the bustling trading post.

01- NEVETSECNUAC

When at dusk, Nevetsecnuac’s sharp eyes spotted the beginnings of habitation in yonder (in the far distance); he halted the mare’s gallop and paused briefly to ponder whether it was time for him now to revert to his scholarly disguise.

 Concluding in the end that assuming Fradel Rurik Korvald's identity was more appropriate, despite the traps that may lie- in- wait on the road ahead, Nevetsecnuac steered the horse away from the road and, in a perfectly (hidden) secluded spot, clad himself once more in the poet's finery.

Just as he was about to discard the (bundled up) hunting clothes into a deep crevice, his eyes suddenly caught the jutting head of the miniature key, previously given to him in the pit by the tortured skeleton.

Pulling it out, he examined the item more intently (carefully) in daylight, before returning it to his inner pocket and resuming his journey.

Along the way Nevetsecnuac cogitated (deliberated) on how the metal of the miniature key had been sturdy and, strangely, shared certain similar properties, same texture, sheen, and resiliency, with the sword Zonar, at the start of their combat, had given him (furnished him with) for his use. 

Nevetsecnuac further mulled over (nominated) on, those precious small jewels all inset (inlaid) into the stem and around three cursive pictographs, a rare feat, so ingeniously crafted (worked) into the metal. 

His focus suddenly straying (drifting), “Zonar?" he abruptly queried.

"Your presence has been sorely missed.  When and where, I wonder, will our next destined encounter be?"  His lone cry, left unchallenged, resounded in the thin air, losing itself in the whisper of the wind rippling through the hills.

“Indeed, in a strange way he’d missed his most formidable adversary.”

Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts veered, this time, to his recent hallucination and he questioned yet again whether it was a premonition of the future after all.

 “Would the invincible warrior Zonar, really bring about my premature doom?” 

An inexplicable shudder passed through Nevetsecnuac just then, as the cryptic, cold hand of Death tapped his shoulder.  Despite it all, however, he still felt an absence of malice or disdain towards Zonar.

 “Perhaps that is where my own weakness lies?”

When rider and mount halted for a brief respite, Nevetsecnuac’s attention reverting on the miniature key, he pulled it out and studied those three cursive pictographs that had been worked into the metal.

They were unlike any he had seen or studied.

Unable to decipher their meaning, he decided to postpone solving it till later and quickly secured the key back this time, in his luggage.  He then in one fluid motion mounted the horse and in keeping with the pretense of Fradel Rurik Korvald, picked up the reins in the fastidious manner of a casual rider rather than his usual, expert grip.

Carrying the ornate crop that fashionable scholars used, he quickly spurred the horse back onto the road.  This time, however, he kept the horse's speed more moderate and, in keeping with the disguise, he allowed his rudiment traits (mannerisms, characteristics) merge in conformity with Fradel Rurik Korval’s.

Be that as it may, a sudden query (inquiry) prayed on Nevetsecnuac mind, a deep concern on how his sworn brother was faring in his own journey towards the mountain home where Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and Teuquob awaited.

Nevetsecnuac understood that once Fradel had appraised them of the current political situation, so vastly different from the fictitious one by Heng Erling, and consequently, the amended goal; they would be despondent, comprehending (grasping) that he (Nevetsecnuac) would, forever be lost to them.

 Unbidden, Nevetsecnuac shed a silent tear, his soul now torn at their imagined, inevitable, inconsolable grief.  A Gut-wrenching sadness gripped his heart further, knowing he would miss out on seeing (his identical twins,) his son Alric Svein (boy) and daughter Lueling (girl), grow up.

                                                                                       ~                                                                                     

The journey thus far had been long and arduous, yet these rigors paled in comparison to the impending difficulties that lay ahead.  The Capital Province Holger, with all its rigid rules, regulations and stirring of the political soup made Nevetsecnuac a bit uneasy at first, but as he had been preparing for this eventuality all his life, he remained fully confident in meeting these challenges.  And for now, passing as the esteemed scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald presented the least problem of all.

Suddenly, Nevetsecnuac was rudely awakened from his hopeful reverie by the vociferous sounds of gambling, vigorous gaiety and strident music emanating from a string of inns lining the road up ahead.  The savory smells of every imaginable kind of dish assailed his nostrils, and he became aware for the first time that day of his empty stomach.  Reflecting, he realized that he had neglected to eat since the day before yesterday.

Dusk was falling once more, and he finally succumbed to the strong yearning within him for a warm bath and a cooked meal.

Halting the mare in front of the sixth inn by the side of the road, the most modest and respectable looking one of the lots, Nevetsecnuac dismounted and handed the horse's reins to the eager young stable hand.  Another page boy ran up as he dismounted and scooped up the baggage Nevetsecnuac had already tossed down.  Pausing for a moment Nevetsecnuac watched the stable boy gently handling the horse and leading the mare to the stables out back, then quickly mounted the marble steps (stairs) that led up to the posh (well-constructed) ebony door of the Inn, with the page burdened with the luggage following (trailing) close behind.

Nevetsecnuac was politely greeted by a dignified, rather young-looking, tall, lean, stern-faced proprietor seated at the makeshift desk. The original desk, Nevetsecnuac was to learn later on, had been badly damaged the previous night, casualty of an unprecedented brawl (fight, scuffle) between the two members of a rival faction, and was taken away for prompt repairs.  

02-  PROPRIETOR KJELD ROSKO

The proprietor had keen (intense), intelligent eyes, which its scrutiny penetrated deep within one’s soul. Rising to his feet at once, he’d approached the scholar, and with a slight bow of the head had introducing himself as Kjeld Rosko, the humble proprietor of that establishment, then courteously ushered the obviously distinguished scholar (Nevetsecnuac), to a comfortable seat by the makeshift registry desk.

Nevetsecnuac was first offered a complimentary cup of fragrant tea and asked if he would like some delectable tartlet to go with it.  Before Nevetsecnuac had a chance to reply, however, a shapely maid had brought in a tray bearing the steaming pot (of more tea) and some colorful, fluffy pastries. As Nevetsecnuac politely nodded and reached for the offered cup, the proprietor Kjeld Rosko, assuming his businesslike persona, steered around the table/desk and, fetching the elaborately bound registry book from the drawer, he opened it to a specific page.  After picking up the writing brush from its stand and loading it with ink, his eyes lightly trailed down the list of names on the parchment page to the last entry.

Smiling, Kjeld Rosko (the innkeeper) then looked up to pleasantly inquire after his honorable guest's name, his intended length of stay and his immediate and long-term requirements.

"Tonng Yennik." Nevetsecnuac, wishing to escape the scrutiny and unwarranted attention that the name of Fradel Rurik Korvald would attract, without the least change in his serene, but firm countenance, responded.  As Nevetsecnuac was dictating his other requirements his eye, covertly turned towards the crowded dining hall, where he caught sight of a singular stranger, armed with a finely made broadsword under his tailored garments, taking his evening meal in the company of two stout guards.

The stranger, though seated in a far corner, cut such an imposing figure that everyone in the hall was obviously ill at ease with his presence there.  A slight look of displeasure, after sampling (nibbling) one of the morsels, immediately unleashed, a fit of rage and hurling abuses from the guard on the left, directed at the manager who, in turn, red-faced, berated the hapless waiter who appeared to be laboring for breath from fright, but before he could pass out cold, he’d been perfunctorily dismissed.  On a signal from the manager, the more efficient, seasoned staff burst into the scene to fawn (toady, grovel) and to serve on the demanding two.

Kjeld Rosko momentarily distracted by this, his face twitched failing to hide his irritation and suppressed hostility, but only for a spell; the expression in his blue eyes now unreadable, he sported (wore) for a time a wry (sardonic) grin, as he followed the ongoing  frenzied activity to appease the occupants of that table in the dining hall.  Subsequently, turning away, he barked at the page (more like a snap command) to take the guest’s luggage on up to the available room at once then, hastened to complete his business with scholar Tonng Yennic.

03- KJELD ROSKO

In the midst of all that mayhem, the stranger’s eyes had briefly, with a cold, callous air swept the room, totally disregarding the ruckus (commotion) the guard on his left hand instigated (set off); then, purposefully averting Nevetsecnuac’s gaze, he indifferently resumed his stern conversation with the bearded one on his right.

 “Who are you that you should warrant such fear?”  Nevetsecnuac mused, as he stole an impassive glance at the stranger. 

The moment Nevetsecnuac was anew engaged by the proprietor Kjeld Rosko, however, the stranger reverted his cold, piercing eyes with a calculating gleam back on Nevetsecnuac to study him more intently.  His obvious subordinate, the keen bearded companion, becoming aware of this, abruptly fell silent and turned slightly in the same direction to see Nevetsecnuac then, reverted (turned) his questioning gaze back on the latter.

Nevetsecnuac, from the corner of his eye, astutely observed how the bearded one receiving some silent instructions inclined his head towards the lobby and nodded to some unseen person.

“Now the trap will be set.”  Nevetsecnuac tad (smidgen), amused, nonchalant, at his leisure rose and followed the innkeeper and his assistant Rodny (who’s rigid demeanor was more akin to a bodyguard) up the stairs.

The subtle exchange, Kjeld Rosko catching the stranger's eye in passing and, giving the other a terse, obsequious nod, was of course shrewdly noted by Nevetsecnuac. Stifling a chortle, midway up the stairs he (Nevetsecnuac) turned and halted, boldly looking back at the stranger, giving him a complete once over.

“Who are you, really,” Nevetsecnuac intrepidly mused.

And when Nevetsecnuac’s eye caught the dour glower (stern scowl) of the bearded guard, he simply grimaced wryly and, undaunted, turned to continue following Kjeld Rosko and his assistant Rodny, to the top of the stairs.

The proprietor Kjeld Rosko observing scholar’s audacious (risky) demeanor, his face for a spell had turned ashen, but of course, he had quickly masked his dread and, from then on with a glint of admiration in his pupils, he’d covertly scrutinized this unusual scholar, while he hastened his steps towards the assigned room. Finally, at the end of the long hall Nevetsecnuac was solicitously ushered into an airy, comfortable room.

“Lavish decorations,” Nevetsecnuac noted after a cursory glance, “far too lavish, in fact.”

 A frown appeared on his face, and he shook his head, "This will not do!"

"But sir, it’s the best room we have, the most luxurious one at this Inn." Suppressing his fury, Kjeld Rosko reticently (reservedly, warily) protested.  Clearly, he had not anticipated the objection.  His assistant standing rigidly on the side, looking aghast and tongue-tied, wrung his hands as he nervously searched his brain for more persuasive words, to assist his boss in this.

Nevetsecnuac disdainfully walked past both, to stand before a magnificent tapestry hanging over the far wall.  His stern eyes surveyed the fine stitching until they pointedly rested on a miniature hole concealed by the design, and he grimaced coldly.

On the other side the spy blanched and instinctively recoiled with a jerk, fearing he had been found out.  Then, acknowledging that that was impossible, he pressed a single eye back to the portal only to meet Nevetsecnuac's cold stare once more.  Excitement and fear coursed through his veins as he shuddered anew, filled with apprehension.

04- SPY (FRASTOS) - JP 11

Nevetsecnuac, however, smiled sourly and half turned to address the inwardly seething Kjeld Rosko.

"Are you daft or hard of hearing; I said, this room is unsatisfactory. “He said crossly (irately) then softening his tone, explained. “For one thing, it’s too drafty," he shot a glance back at the tapestry, "for another, I prefer the western exposure.  Perhaps I've neglected to inform you of these particular requirements."

"Please, reexamine facts sir and reconsider," Kjeld Rosko clenched his right fist, hidden behind his back, as his assistant, now tongue-tied, clamoring for an apt excuse.  "If I may be candid with you, the rooms facing west are all occupied.  Besides that, they are all second rate and decidedly draftier."  Kjeld said in a placating tone, though he held his hard gaze on the arrogant scholar, "Won't you reassess?  I'll do everything in my power to make your stay here most pleasant and comfortable.  This is truly our finest room, as befits one of your ‘stature, sir.  I assure you that, even if another room becomes available, it will fall considerably short of the luxury you see here."

"Look here," Nevetsecnuac cut him short with a curt gesture of his hand, "if you don't have the means to accommodate me as I wish, then I strongly suggest that you stop wasting my time.  Have my horse brought round at once!"  Feigning anger, he made to leave, pushing past Kjeld Rosko.

"What's all the commotion about?"  The bearded guard from the dining hall suddenly appeared in the hall.

"Sir, this is a private matter.  Your rude intrusion is not appreciated."  Nevetsecnuac glared at the guard provocatively.

“What business is this of yours?  Get lost!” his stern look plainly said.

Obviously unused to this kind of treatment, the guard looked sharply at Nevetsecnuac, his hand gliding over to rest threateningly at the hilt of his sheathed sword, and his polite smile instantly turned into an icy scowl of hatred.

 Any other would have been wasted for a mere cross look, let alone such a rebuke!

“Have you not the slightest idea whom you are addressing?” his eyes narrowed, as he glared venomously (furiously), the threat implicit in his silence.

“So,” Nevetsecnuac mused, “you've had orders not to molest (assault, abuse, mistreat) me; interesting!”

 In keeping with a scholar's arrogance, Nevetsecnuac was about to haughtily rebuff the restrained bully further, when Kjeld Rosko, with unusual agility, rushed past Tonng Yennik (Nevetsecnuac).

Eyes hard with steel determination, the resilient (tough and flexible) proprietor, nevertheless, bowed low to the guard.

"I apologize profusely, sir, for your trouble.  I apologize to you both."  Kjeld Rosko turned and bowed low also, to Tonng Yennik.  Despite his outward show of submission, he quaked in rage, inwardly. Nevetsecnuac was secretly impressed with Kjeld Rosko’s admirable stoical (tolerant, forbearing) nature.

"It’s just a slight misunderstanding, that's all."  Shifting his sham (pretend), nervous gaze back and forth between the guard and Tonng Yennik, he dabbed at the supposed perspiration on his mustache, with his handkerchief.  "The gentleman wishes to have another room.  I was just about to accommodate his wishes."

“It sounds like you're asking his permission, innkeeper!” Nevetsecnuac questioningly looked at Kjeld Rosko.

The guard's face, meanwhile, had crinkled in momentary disgust as, clenching his fist, he let the built-up anger drain slowly from him.  After a scornful laugh he averted Tonng Yennik's eyes and gave the briefest of nods.

 "I apologize for the intrusion."  Without another word, he briskly turned and left.

Kjeld Rosko was relieved that the volatile situation had been averted; after a furtive glance at the retreating guard, he politely turned to address the scholar: "Please, for the time being, make yourself comfortable here; I'll go and make all the specific arrangements at once." Attaining a nod of concurrence from Tonng Yennik, he exhaled deeply, bowed low once more, then hastily withdrew.

“What dramatics!” Nevetsecnuac shook his head after the proprietor.

 “It had not been his intention to be so hard on Kjeld Rosko.  He was only testing the waters to see how far they would go to keep him here.  But why have they made no contact yet?  What were they waiting for?”  Nevetsecnuac had already formed his own opinion on the singular stranger's role in all this or, at least, who it was that had ordered his accommodation here.  Nevetsecnuac had set the wheel in motion, forced their hands but, until the inevitable meeting which, he was certain, would transpire later that night, there was little left now for him to do.  With a shrug of his shoulders, he strolled to the far end of the room and stood in front of the window, thoughtfully staring out at the view.  The miniature gardens, with their man-made mountains and creeks, the snaking pathways bordered by elaborate lattices seemed to be pure ostentation. 

05-SCHOLAR TONNG YENNICK (NEVETSECNUAC)JPG

The shallowness of it all rather disgusted him.  “Only those who only experienced nature at second hand could find the tiny landscape appealing,” he concluded.  He disdainfully pursed his lips then turned away from the window, his mind returning to the stranger and his guards.

“I foiled their immediate plans and forced them into an alternate course.  Next, I'll appear agreeable, but not too much so.  Why should I make things too easy for them?”  His eyes once more surveyed the room.

“I wonder where the trap door is.”  Deducing (figuring out) the most likely spot, he walked over and tapped lightly, so as not to alert any guard concealed within.  Satisfied with the result, he turned back and sat down by the fireplace.

Short time later Kjeld returned somewhat panting (winded, breathless) and with flushed (red) face, for he had to oversee a lot of details and alter or shift the carefully devised plans and traps that had been in place for nearly a month.  After apologizing profusely to Tonng Yennik for the inconvenience and the slight delay he declared, with a certain satisfaction, that the room fitting his precise specifications had now been made ready for his perusal. Kjeld Rosko then, graciously inclined his head and invited Tonng Yennik to follow him.  As they were leaving, Kjeld turned and bayed at his underling Rodney, to; at once move the gentleman's baggage to the “Room Twelve”.

Down the hall, they came across a disgruntled merchant, hair disheveled and clothes akimbo, being hastily, unceremoniously deposited into a new room.  Too angry, or perhaps too frightened, to articulate his feelings, he glared furiously at Kjeld Rosko then stole a scornful glance at Tonng Yennik, before going in and pointedly slamming the door in their faces as they passed.

Feigning incomprehension, Nevetsecnuac raised an eyebrow at the innkeeper.  The apologetic Kjeld nervously rushed to give some lame excuse for the merchant's rude behavior, glancing fearfully at the cracked door to his left as he spoke.  Then, with polite rhetoric (pomposity), he motioned to the room on the right and, inclining his head slightly, ushered Tonng Yennik into the hastily prepared Room Twelve.

"Is this room more to your satisfaction, sir?  Does it meet with your approval?"  Kjeld’s deep etched lines on his face, tell-tale-signs of fret, creased further with impatience as he, waited for an answer.

"Hmm… It will do." Nevetsecnuac responded, after a brief perusal.  Walking over to the far corner, he sunk into a comfortable chair by the mantle.

 “Odd,” Nevetsecnuac noted the recently disturbed dust floating in the air; “this room had not been used for some time.  It obviously wasn't my needs that dislodged that merchant.”

Highly pleased and, showing no inclination to leave Kjeld, meanwhile, had walked up to the tray bearing a teapot and cups and, turning, graciously offered his guest a seething cup of fragrant tea. Receiving a negative response, he next, on the pretext of showing the amenities of the room and how it accorded with his guest's instructions, prodded Tonng Yennik discreetly, so he thought, for more information, his background, destination, and the nature of his business in the Capital.

With a seemingly agreeable disposition, Nevetsecnuac provided him with only the minimum of harmless information, just enough to satisfy Kjeld's curiosity.  Then, feigning distraction, inquired pointedly after the stranger with the broadsword whom he had seen earlier in the dining hall.

06- FAMOUS BATHOUSE  (3)JPG

The shock, which Kjeld Rosko so miserably failed to mask and, his subsequent, evasive answers, piqued Nevetsecnuac’s curiosity.  Nevertheless, for the time being, he decided to simply let it pass.

To Kjeld’s relief just then, an underling after knocking poked his head in and hastily offered his apologies for the intrusion; he next, happily announced that the provisions for the bath had been made ready in the bathing hall.

"A communal bath," Tonng Yennik, his face showing obvious signs of displeasure, derisively asked.

"Why, of course." Kjeld with a profligate grin, explained.  "And you’ll be attended by rare, exquisite beauties of either gender, depending on your preference of course. We have become quite famous for our bathing facilities here ever since we found the means to channel the nearby hot springs in an unlimited supply.  Sir, you are quite fortunate that you have come at this time before high Season.  Winter is our busiest time, and nearly all our rooms are reserved far in advance by gentry from near and far.  Oh, but I'm keeping you from your enjoyment of your bath."  Seizing this opportunity, Kjeld Rosko beat a hasty retreat.

“Yes, hasten forth and report your findings to that stranger.  I'm sure he will be impressed by the uselessness of your observations,” Nevetsecnuac thought as the Innkeeper departed.

“I’m in need of a bath, “Nevetsecnuac reflected, “but only that and nothing else.”

Before he left the room however, Nevetsecnuac took the precautionary measure of concealing his identity papers in a supposed, secure place.  Locking the door after him, he swiftly traversed the long hallway and descended the stairs, following the painted images of a man in a tub down to the bathing chamber.

 

                                                                                            ~

 

(END OF SECTION 17)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO CAPITAL - SECTION 8

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 8

The ghosts stirred, and many took flights into the distance or into the air, as high as they were permitted to go. But before Nevetsecnuac could accost one of the fleeing ghosts the ground split open with a terrifying noise and a horde of horrendous trolls streamed out of the fiery crevice.  Cracking their whips to disperse the unfortunate ghosts who failed to clear the way fast enough, the ugly trolls, cursing and spitting, carved out an open, direct path to Nevetsecnuac.  In their wake there emerged from the chasm, where red hot flames now shot up on high, two most grotesque, most hideous Demon Guards, half human, half beast, with barbed tails between their legs, lolling tongues, jagged, razor-sharp talons, saw-like teeth and blazing, glittering eyes (orbs) set in leathery, blue faces framed by horns and frizzled, raven black hair.

Standing fifteen feet tall, they were truly more fearsome, more gruesome, and more nightmarish than anything Nevetsecnuac had ever seen or imagined.

The terrified ghosts, clustered at a safe distance, sobbed loudly and cringed apprehensively, knowing what awaited him.

Gnashing their rows of teeth, hissing and spitting, the Demon Guards swaggered menacingly towards Nevetsecnuac.  One unlucky young ghost who had failed to clear the way, paralyzed as he was in fear, drew the unwarranted attention of the lead Demon; finding this ready gift irresistible, he halted his advance long enough to reach out with his razor-sharp talons towards the unfortunate spirit.

01- YOUNG GHOST PARALYZED WITH FEAR

Demon’s talons subsequently entered the ghost’s chest cavity and ripped out the prized delicacy, the heart, which he ate in one gulp then licked his chops.  Both demon guards next were about to tear into the remaining flesh to consume the lungs and liver, when Nevetsecnuac, outraged, shouted at them (Demon Guards) in indignation, drawing their attention to him, hoping to spare the poor victim from further torment (anguish).

The other spirits, knowing what they knew, had recoiled in terror, while the braver ones with their hearts palpitating, eventually finding their voices, despite their shuddering, whimpered thoughtful warnings to Nevetsecnuac, but it was too late.

One of the Demons, pinning his fiery gaze on Nevetsecnuac, shot two iridescent red beams from his pupils and paralyzed Nevetsecnuac where he stood; it was implicit (understood) that his turn would come soon enough. Rendered helpless and unable to close his eyelids, meanwhile, Nevetsecnuac witnessed the unfortunate ghost being torn limb from limb then devoured ravenously by the two Demons.  The trolls standing by, looked on hungrily but not daring to intercede and claim even a miniscule share, hoped instead for a (forgotten) scant morsel to be left behind.  However, to their disappointment, the two demons even fought over the entrails, and then settled leisurely to crunch the bones until nothing at all was left of the poor ghost.  Then, belching jarringly (dissonantly), the Demon Guards rancorously advanced upon Nevetsecnuac.

"You're to come with us.  You have a lot to answer for." The leader growled then, with one of his talons (like a hook) piercing the top of Nevetsecnuac's skull, he led the way as he dragged Nevetsecnuac down into the hellish fires.  The agonizing pain Nevetsecnuac suffered as he was hauled away was so intense that he fought to maintain his consciousness (awareness, cognizance).

Down in the depths of the netherworld (Hell), in that surreal topography (landscape) the glowing fires raged everywhere. 

02 -NETHERWORLD

The stony, wabbly path they were on led across a bridge which was flanked on both sides by an abysmal plummet, that intermittently cocooned chambers of horror from which emanated ghastly, heart-rending screams and wails.

 Nevetsecnuac was thankful he could not see the imagined atrocities; nevertheless, their anguished cries grated on his ears as the stench of burning flesh assailed his nose. Subsequently, these unfortunate ghosts, rather what remained of them, were thence (thereafter) ravenously devoured by the rowdy groups of demons seated at long tables. An adjacent chamber revealed a still more ghastly, terrifying sight; there a giant beastly head, its huge mouth filled with row upon row of molars, was being fed human souls by other Demon Guards.  The beast with no body was grinding up the unfortunate souls between his teeth like a millstone.

 Nevetsecnuac flanked by the two Demons, enduring (experiencing) violent vertigo, was dragged across a suspended tall bridge, constructed over a fast-flowing river of blood. Dark crimson and foamy swirling whirlpools periodically revealed giant vipers that were devouring the cart loads of ghosts (ones who’d ended their life prematurely via suicide,) now being steadily dumped into the flow from the banks.  In their frenzy feeding these snakes churned the water so high that the bridge overhead perpetually (swayed) shook unsteadily. 

03- SNAKES FEEDING

The piranha infested bluish ponds came into view next; here the waters boiled as the swarms of flesh-eating fish in their feeding frenzy instantly stripped off all there was of those guilty of gluttony, avarice, spite and malevolence. Unceremoniously dumped into the churning, lighting-streaked waters, where all flesh disappeared right away down to the skeletal bones.

More horrific still was the Hill of Blades beside it, penalty reserved for the worst of humanity, including mass murderers.  Their minced (diced) pieces of flesh were quickly picked clean by the scavenging vultures that hovered noisily overhead.

Eventually Nevetsecnuac and his captors passed through a pair of pronged bronze gates guarded by two fearsome Bull Demons and entered a dark, elongated hall dotted with part-beast, part human, demons, resembling tigers, wolves and hyenas lying or sitting, panting, their tongues lolling, licking their chops.  The high walls, even the ceiling were made entirely of human skulls and bones crawling with flies, maggots, and worms.  The floors beneath Nevetsecnuac’s hauled (lugged, dragged) feet were all paved with crushed bones.

They approached a second set of doors, guarded by fearsome, grotesque giant Demons with halberds.  The bronze framed, purple ingrained cinnabar doors opened with a creaking, grinding sound onto a large vermilion hall, at the head of which was, seated on a dais and leaning against a desk, passing judgment, the most monstrous, most hideous looking Underworld King, Dekiletgan.

On either side of Dekiletgan, the half-human, half-beast fearsome demons holding standards on two-pronged spears were drawn up in tight, impenetrable ranks.  Standing in attendance off to the left side, holding stacks of files, was a tiger-headed Official. Next to him stood the hunchbacked, fox-headed, human-bodied clerk who, before the handling of each case, perused it carefully then passed the appropriate dossier to his superior.

As Nevetsecnuac's turn came the Demon Guards released Nevetsecnuac from the spell of immobility, prodded him forwards and forced him to his knees, after which they bowed and respectfully stepped aside.

The Demon King Dekiletgan, fixing his hard gaze on Nevetsecnuac, ordered the prisoner to approach the bench and state his plea, part of the empty, meaningless formality.

Nevetsecnuac, nevertheless, respectfully  prostrated (bowed-down) low and stated briefly his grievance; after which, he eloquently implored His Honor to grant him a second chance so as to fulfill his destiny and avenge all those that had been wronged, adding quickly that his own fate mattered little to him and, once his task was complete, he'd most willingly, without a qualm, would succumb to extreme tortures of Hell until his penance was paid in full.

Nevetsecnuac's courage and loyalty impressed Dekiletgan.  Favorably disposed to granting him temporary amnesty, the fiendish King turned his attention to Nevetsecnuac's dossier before him and opened it.  However, he had read only a few lines when he exploded in a sudden, great, all-consuming rage.  Smoke emanated from his nostrils; fire flashed from his pupils.  "What blunder is this?" he thundered. Checking his anger summarily however, but glaring at the tiger-headed Official, he summoned with a wave of his hand both the tiger-headed Official and the fox-headed clerk to approach the bench.  After being questioned at length, both were exonerated from all blame.

The Demon King Dekiletgan (pinned, turned) reverted his fiery, blazing eyes next to Nevetsecnuac.

"Because of your stupid blunder," he fumed, "all my records are now botched up!  You are guilty of the most heinous crime and deserve the extreme penalty of this court!  Even after the term of your penance, there will be no appeal, no reprieve for the likes of you."

Then, hastening the procedure, Dekiletgan passed the severest sentence upon poor Nevetsecnuac, at the end of which Nevetsecnuac was condemned to becoming a non-entity for eternity.

 "Take him away!" commanded the Dekiletgan as his final order.

"No, I refuse to abide by this hasty, unfair verdict, this travesty of justice!" Nevetsecnuac protested indignantly.

04-NEVETS ARGUES HIS CASE BEFORE THE UNDERWORLD KING DEKILETGAN

 "You call this a just ruling?  Where is my purported day in court?  I demand I be given a chance to vindicate myself!  What kind of court is this that tramples on truth, integrity, justice, and probity?  I will not deny that of which I stand guilty.  Even then, there were extenuating circumstances and legitimate, valid reasons for my actions.  No, I'm not seeking a total, or even a partial acquittal.  My singular wish is to gain a chance to fulfill my obligation.  No!  I will not be silenced, not until I get what I want!"  Nevetsecnuac stomped his foot defiantly.

"I demand to be heard!  Let go of me, you beasts!"  As Nevetsecnuac struggled and fought hard to free himself from the ever tightening, constricting bonds that had magically appeared on him and, trussed as he was, ducked, bent, and swerved to escape the full impact of the needling, piercing talons, sharp claws and silver rods that mercilessly targeted his head and body from all directions.  "Nooo... “

"Hah?" just then he came to with a start.

"Where am I?  How did I get here?" Nevetsecnuac asked out loud, looking-about him wildly.  To his great relief he found himself to be no longer in Hell but on Earth.  He was amid a thorny bush with clinging runners tightly wound around his legs and waist, restricting his movements.  He was soaked to the skin from the pounding rain. 

05- NEVETS  IN THE RAIN (23)

He looked down and saw his feet totally submerged in a pool of water up to his knees; meanwhile, he could sense many bloodsuckers, having found their way under cloth (his trousers), gorging on his blood.  Disconcerted by this; however, "Zonar?"  Instead, his hand reached up and felt his throat that was still throbbing in excruciating pain right where he had imagined, or dreamt, that Zonar had inflicted that deep gash. His mind still clouded with incomprehensible jargon, he saw wild, strange, bizarre visions flashing intermittently, dancing before his eyes.

"How on earth did I get here?" Once more he raised the question in exasperation as he jogged his memory and tried his best to recollect the very last thing that he did or had happened to him.  Meanwhile, with slight difficulty, he succeeded in weaving his way out from the grasp of the thorny bushes and, by pulling, tearing at the adhesive, sticky tentacles and runners that stubbornly clung to his hair, skin, and clothes, he eventually freed himself.  With bewildered eyes Nevetsecnuac then scanned the surroundings in search of his horse, but he had wandered into a no-man's land and here the dense forest permitted only scant light as thick, lush, tall vegetation choked the ground, obscuring whatever lay in its bosom.

His only chance, he knew, was to get to a higher ground and survey the wider perimeter.

Traversing the ascending, snaking path recently carved, obviously by him, Nevetsecnuac emerged finally out of this nightmarish gorge.

Using a small dagger, he kept concealed (in his boot) for eating purposes, he carefully scraped the bothersome bloodsuckers off his skin.

When the tapering rain just then ceased and strong winds, sweeping the clouds away to the west, created a window in the sky for the sun to peep from, Nevetsecnuac concluded from its position that it was late afternoon, which meant that three-quarters of the day had been, prior, lost to him in a shroud of mystery.  Fortunately, at present, his mind had cleared, and his senses were fully restored to normal.

Seated comfortably on a boulder, he tried to recollect the very last thing he had done, which, in all probability, had contributed to his hallucination. It quickly came to him: “Yes, just before dawn he had dug up some edible roots for sustenance.”

 “Could it be that particular?  No!”  He shook his head in disbelief.  He was certain that he had made no mistake on that account.  He had eaten that root hundreds of times with no consequence.  In the end, however, he had to concede that, perhaps in this part of the country, the same variety had evolved, triggering hence, detrimental effects on humans.

“In that case,” he inwardly noted, “I had best avoid that particular root altogether.” 

This was most disconcerting because, having come this far, he could not now jeopardize his aim.

Reflecting on his vivid hallucination, his combat with Zonar, his wretched, frustrating experience in Hell, Nevetsecnuac nodded with a wry smile, “It seems there is some measure of truth in these mountain folk tales and superstitions, after all.  Fortunately, I’ve survived it unscathed, but what of my mare?  I must seek her out right away; she could not have wandered too far unless she's fallen prey to some predatory beast!”

Fortunately, he'd taken the precaution of keeping the identity papers and summons on him.  Still, without a horse and a scholar's formal attire, Nevetsecnuac knew he could not advance in speed, to meet the deadline, nor could he present himself on foot in the Capital as Fradel Rurik Korvald, without arousing some unwarranted suspicion and dubious curiosity that might jeopardize his enterprise.

As he searched for his horse, there was yet another nagging concern in the back of his mind.  “In a perilous duel he had clashed swords and fists with Zonar, with neither of them gaining the advantage or besting the other.  Up until now, he had thought they were equally matched, but did this bizarre hallucination in some way portend a future encounter with, perhaps, graver consequences for him (Nevetsecnuac)?  Was his delirium a premonition, a warning not to engage Zonar?  Yet, what if Zonar was already in Channing (Imperial Capital City of Wenjenjun) to carry out precisely the purpose he had claimed in the illusion?”

 “No,” shaking his head, Nevetsecnuac dispelled that preposterous notion.  Zonar was too honorable for that.

Deciding to reconnoiter more extensively and, to get an aerial/panoramic view, Nevetsecnuac quickly climbed the tallest ancient tree.  As his eyes scanned the distance far and wide, to his elation he suddenly spotted, a lone horse resembling his, which had just moved out from under the broad-leafed canopy to graze beside a creek which snaked through a clearing beyond the next hill.

06- HORSE

 "Excellent!" Nevetsecnuac exclaimed in satisfaction.  Then his eyes sought the path which he had inadvertently strayed from.  Finding it, he traced it to where it met up with the old main road, barely visible from his position.  Having set firmly (etched) the direction and all pertinent obstacles in his memory, Nevetsecnuac climbed back down from the dizzying crown of this ancient tree with the nimble agility of a monkey. After which he hastened as fast as his legs could carry him, traversing the rough terrain, to reach his mount before dusk.  The spooked steed, none the worse for wear, bolted at the first sight of Nevetsecnuac then neighed and trotted warily, but did not run away.

Approaching her cautiously, Nevetsecnuac took the mare by the reins, gently stroking her long mane to erase her fears then, vaulting into the saddle, wheeled around, and galloped along the descending course in the right direction.

 

                                                                                           ~

 

(END OF SECTION 8)