LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE CAPITAL CHANNING – SECTION 10

 

In truth, Zaur Stugr had searched long and hard for these many years and had finally given up all hope of ever uncovering the truth and of finding out what had happened to his father. Then, just when he least expected it, because of the strange twist of fate the answer had miraculously reached out to him.

“I must relay the message through a courier (an affiliate Kozur) at dawn to, without further ado, retrieve my father's remains from that hellish pit.” Zaur Stugr nodded with resolve. Unfortunately, Zaur’s full schedule did not allowed him to leave the Capital to supervise the work himself, for nothing short of a miracle, would enable him to facilitate his being absent from his official duties long enough to conduct a proper burial with full rights and ceremony befitting the station of his Father. The burden of his office was most exacting (demanding, rigorous) on his time, same as every other official regardless of their status in Channing, for each official was constantly monitored, their every action and allotted time incessantly regulated and documented (registered), under the entrenched (engrained) layers of bureaucracy with its rigid regulatory standards and lawful domination. Not a single unsanctioned intake of breath could be taken without dire repercussions, under such oppressive and absolute rule of Emperor Zakhertan Yozdek.

01-ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (44)JP

 “Perhaps when this whole business with Fradel Rurik Korvald is concluded I may find the means; I promise you, Father, your spirit will find eternal peace in Heaven while your foul murderers will pay for their nefarious deeds in Hell.”  In irritation Zaur drummed his fingers upon the box.

If only he was free, free to do what he wished without the piercing eyes of Lamont Gudaren, Zakhertan’s invincible militia and that cursed Eunuch’s Black Molochs monitoring his every move!  Regardless of all the power he wielded, and yes, he was a covert (surreptitious) rebel leader, nonetheless existing (functioning) and even thriving, under the domineering, tyrannical canopy; unfortunately, at this very moment he’d realized he was nothing but a pawn of capricious fate after all. Indubitably, in the end, his every feat (act, achievement, engagement), encounters had been preordained (predetermined, fated) by the Heavenly Gods ‘dictates.

“And you, oh my most unfortunate Father, your fate had always been far more tragic than mine could ever be!” Zaur Stugr, shamefaced, groaned, recalling Sorgun's confession to him that night long ago when Zaur was a young boy…Young and utterly innocent.

 Only years later had Zaur comprehended the full implications of those words and, from then on, had remained eternally grateful to Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon. He had henceforth honored His Lordship's memory in secret each year, on the day of Festival for the Dead.  He owed so much to Lord Zhon for all that he had done to extricate his father from the wrongful indictment and later still, for restoring him to his rightful (position) status.  But then because of the capriciousness of fate, more troubles had beset them.

Zaur Stugr’s mind presently recollected those perilous times back then, with the country in the grips of chaos (turmoil) and incessant wars, remembering most vividly, his father's sleepless nights that were spent endlessly pouring over documents, attending clandestine meetings, arranging for the provisions of armaments and his ceaselessly pacing the floor in his study until the (wee) small hours of the morning. 

Then, once more being constrained to flee, they had journeyed to far away alien lands where they had encountered (met) strange people with different (unfamiliar) dialects and customs; only to covertly return, though remain invisible, amid mainstream (ordinary) denizen obscurity (anonymity).

“Oh, father!  Father! “Zaur Stugr’s heart ached as if he had just become an orphan once more.  He leaned back, lowering his eyelids on the tears that welled up unbidden.

Zaur choked, recalling another time and another place that seemed like an eternity ago.

Zaur saw it all again in his mind’s eye, as vividly as if it was just happening before him that last exchange with his father, Sorgun Dufo. (Note: Learn all about Sorgun Dufo, in Book 6- The Assassins- Section 10)

02-- SORGUN DUFO

Sorgun Dufo stroked his son’s hair with a grave face and looked into his young eyes.  "Now, pay attention, Kundrick."

“Kundrick Dufo,” Zaur softly whispered his childhood name; he had not the occasion to think of it for many years now.

 "Listen son, circumstances dictate that I should go away for a while.  Wenjenkun is in the grip of grave peril, and I have it within my (power) means to alter its ill-fated course.  I must undertake a very dangerous task, and time is of the essence.  Hopefully I will achieve my goal and spare this nation of ours from the impending catastrophe.  Though you may be only a child my son, you are strong enough to be entrusted with grave responsibility.  Take this box and guard it with your life, if necessary, until my return.  You must not fail in this, for inside is proof of the allegations I will be bringing before our Illustrious Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir. Without them all is lost."

Zaur Stugr caressed the box once more, holding it as he had gripped it as a child (of about nine years old), feeling the weight of its importance. 

"In the meantime,", Sorgun had continued, "I have arranged for you to remain in the good care of my old friend, Sanzo Tezcat.  I know you are a strong-willed boy despite your polite manners, and I charge you now to behave and do as Sanzo says. Do not give me the least cause to regret this decision.  When I return to reclaim the box, I will explain everything to you, in full detail." 

But his father never returned.

“As discerning as you were, Father,” Zaur Stugr smiled wryly, “even you did not grasp how you were being played (toyed) by fickle fate.  You did not perceive, had no way of knowing of Sanzo's secret life.  How things might have turned out differently, had either of you, more specifically him, breached that wall of secrecy and taken the other, you, into confidence.  You are not entirely to blame though father; after all, you pursued a common cause and trusted him (a confirmed bachelor) well enough to leave me, your only son, in his care. “

“It was clearly not negligence on your part; perhaps it was Sanzo's excellent disguise, crafted so well it had fooled even a childhood friend such as you.” Zaur lowered his head in woeful air.

“How capricious fate is.”

To be sure, (definitely) Sanzo Tezcat had been a master of camouflage; what’s more, he had been bound by his blood oath of allegiance sworn in complete secrecy to the Sacred Brotherhood of the Kozurs.  Since even blood relatives were kept in the dark (unless it was sanctioned by the brotherhood to reveal it, and that happened hardly ever,) Sanzo Tezcat could not have confided in Sorgun Dufo even if he had desperately wanted to, even if it were to save his own life.  So serious were the repercussions of breaking the oath that even the most horrible death was preferable to betraying the Brotherhood.

03- SANZO TESCAT (2)

Zaur’s noble father had never suspected that this bookish (studious, thoughtful), benevolent, and foolishly idealistic, equable (composed, placid) erudite (scholarly, historian), who always seemed to be lost in some fantasy world of his own so distant from the crude realities of present life and politics, was anything more than what he seemed.  And so, at the time, Sanzo Tezcat must have seemed the ideal, safe candidate to entrust with the safekeeping of young Kundrick Dufo.  Besides, Sorgun Dufo's own scruples and good conscience would not have permitted him to involve (or recruit) his childhood friend Sanzo, this idealistic, gentle soul into the perilous, clandestine struggle that took up his every waking moment.

Perhaps that was the root, true basis for his father's undoing; he should have looked deeper into the man’s soul, should have questioned the obvious when it came too easily.  Sanzo, a wolf in sheep's clothing, would have proved invaluable in altering the course of Sorgun's doom.

Vividly Zaur recalled the look of panic in Sanzo Tezcat 's eyes when, just three days after leaving with Sorgun Dufo on a mission, Tojo Tugo was spotted (was seen) in the crowd across the market square.

In an instant metamorphosis, Sanzo had dropped all semblance of his benign, placid (docile) disguise and clearly incensed (irked), hastened (rushed) Kundrick home at once.  Within the space of an hour, they were packed and ready for the flight to disappear in hiding.  Cursing furiously, Sanzo Tezcat had slammed things about and committed countless, obviously important documents to the roaring flames of the kitchen fire.

Despite his forced restraint, Zaur gritted his teeth and cursed the name, Tojo, Tojo Tugo, father of Imperial Captain Zunrogo Tugo.

 “May you burn like dry leaves in Hell for your treachery! “Zaur scowling cussed (swore, cursed).

Many nights since the time when he had first pieced the facts together, Zaur Stugr had anguished over the dilemma. 

Zunrogo Tugo had been a mere child back then, could he be held morally accountable for his father's heinous crimes?  In the end Zaur had exonerated Zunrogo from all blame and did not exact lawful revenge on him.

Despite this resolve, Zaur Stugr had held, in the depth of his heart, a strong dislike for Captain of the Palace Guards, Zunrogo Tugo.  If it were up to him, alone, the Undersecretary's Office would have had no dealings whatsoever with this arrogant, martinet (despot, bully).  Unfortunately, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren had long ago recognized Zunrogo’s specific talents and, over the course of the ensuing years had engaged his increasingly invaluable services to successfully carry out the most difficult of the Prime Minister's sinister schemes.

As Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s avowed subordinate (in official capacity), Minister Zaur Stugr was constrained to maintain an outward (superficial) civil relation with Zunrogo, son of Tojo the traitor; and when bid to do so, enable (facilitate) the despised Captain to augment (expand) his influence and fortunes. Despite solid evidence, Zaur suspected Zunrogo Tugo of having other affiliates, moreover, a far more powerful patron (benefactor) than PM, not ruling out the possibility of that sponsor being someone from the Royal Yozdek Family.

At this point Zaur's mind, unexpectedly, reverted to his childhood.

"How will Father find us?  I'm not going anywhere." Zaur remembered crying out as he squirmed and wrestled against the servants with all his might, steadfastly refusing to budge an inch. 

That was the first time that Zaur (Kurndrick Dufo) had ever defied his father's dictate.

Zaur smiled, recalling how stubborn and cheeky (rebellious) he’d been back then.

 As it were, when threat, force and reasoning failed to sway Kundrick Dufo, the steward Lios then had resorted to a ruse.  Pretending to have briefly consulted Sanzo Tezcat, wily (crafty) Lios had, by choosing his words very carefully, reassured Kundrick that Sorgun Dufo had already sent word to Sanzo that he would meet with them at their intended destination once his pursuers were thrown off his trail.

04- FEARLES KUNDRICK DUFO

When defiant Kundrick had boldly confronted his guardian in his study later still, demanding Sanzo validate this info, Sanzo Tezcat had simply suppressed an outward venting of his displeasure (at this obstinate upstart) and glared sternly at Kundrick.

 His gruff silence had, oddly enough, reaffirmed in Kundrick’s mind that the words Lios had spoken were the truth.  Thus beguiled, Kundrick Dufo (Zaur Stugr) had then complied willingly with all that was expected of him. 

After they had fled to safety, Kundrick had waited fruitlessly for many a day, looking forward to that time when he would be reunited with his father. Every night before going to sleep he’d envisioned (in his mind’s eye) the joyful event, how he would eagerly, elatedly greet his father and then excitedly blather away, recounting (relaying) the many hair-raising adventures he had already experienced.

When their urgent flight to safety had warranted a third move within one year, Kundrick Dufo bit more wizened (more able to discern a lie from the truth) and skeptical, this time he’d adamantly stood his ground, obstinate and unafraid.  Raising quite a ruckus he’d demanded the full explanation he felt was his right to have. On the verge of being bound, gagged, and forcibly transported, Sanzo Tezcat just then arriving on the disordered scene, in an icy tone (a voice commanding absolute obedience), had barked, “Put the boy down.”

Zaur could still envisage (visualize, picture) the riveting scene, how Sanzo’s brief, forbidding look that fanned the room had instantly frozen all commotion (clamor) and frenzied protestations.

 A tomblike (deadly) lethal tension had gripped the room as all, save for Kundrick, stood perfectly still with their heads lowered in abject contrition.

Sanzo Tezcat with slow, deliberate steps, hands clasped behind him, walked over to the window, and gazed absently outside; he stood there for what seemed an eternity, his hand then (grasping) resting on the hilt of his partially hidden stiletto (an ancient, ceremonial dagger). Sanzo’s dark green, piercing eyes subsequently had reverted back to Kundrick Dufo; noting with some amusement, the boy’s adamant stance and the unflinching stare of defiance returned back to him, Sanzo simply nodded.

In truth, despite the just then wavering, inexplicable fear Kundrick had felt in the pit of his stomach, determined not to show any weakness, he had obdurately (pig-headedly) tunneled his hard gaze into Sanzo's eyes.

The steward Lios, having been rather fond of the indomitable boy and at that moment fearing for his safety, had defied his subservient place to cough gently and to flash Kundrick with a worried look.

Quite unexpectedly however, Sanzo's face had suddenly softened (relaxed) and he threw his head back and gave a loud, boisterous laugh that resounded in the tense stillness of the air.

"Ignorance makes a lion of the lamb (young sheep)." Kundrick thought he heard Sanzo Tezcat grumble under his breath as he walked over (drew near) to the boy and seated himself comfortably into a plush chair.

“Who’s he calling a lamb?” Zaur remembered well, how he’d inwardly seethed in rage at the time. He was a real firebrand (a troublemaker, a real hothead) back then.

Kundrick’s fury unleashed he stood ready to pounce on Sanzo, “I’ll show him...” 

But then, steward Lios, catching the boy's attention just then, his eyes had implored Kundrick to keep still and to concede, warning him of dire chastisement if he persisted with his defiance.

05-SANZO TESCAT (10)

Sanzo Tezcat, well composed, with his hard gaze glued to Kundrick Dufo, had pondered on a concern for quite some time, as though the urgency of their flight had never existed and as if they had all the time in the world to spare.  In contrast, these precarious moments had dragged on, for Kundrick and presumably, for his friend and ally, Lios.

Then unexpectedly Sanzo had slightly leaned forward and indicated that Kundrick was to take the seat across from him as, with a singular look, he dismissed the steward and the rest of the servants from the room.  Kundrick Dufo, unflinchingly never taking his eyes once off his guardian, had complied.

Instead of the admonishment he had expected, however, Sanzo had, in a sympathetic, patient tone, promised that one day, when it was appropriate for him to do so, Kundrick would receive all the pertinent knowledge that he sought and that he, Sanzo himself, would answer unequivocally all Kundrick’s queries without the least reserve.

“Until then,” Sanzo had austerely ejected next, “it would be most dangerous for a boy of your stature (station), to possess too much knowledge.”

Looking away Sanzo had then in a softer tone distractedly added, “And since it seems we would be together for quite a long while, I prefer to have our relationship be, more affable (amiable).”

Sanzo, rebounding from that momentary sentiment quickly however, had again austerely exhorted (urged) Kundrick to behave, as his father would have wanted him to, with the decorum becoming of his station and to show the perseverance and self-discipline that was his innate (inherent) good breeding. 

Most incredible, Sorgun Dufo had been one of those rare, exceptional individuals (persons) who had won Sanzo's eternal gratitude and affection. Fortunately for Kundrick Dufo, he had been the beneficiary of all that respect Sanzo had held (felt) for his father and, though the boy had been nothing but a liability thus far, in fact, by this last defiant spectacle (demonstration) worn rather thin his privilege, Kundrick, as sole exception, had still been tolerated by his guardian.  Zaur had learned years later how dangerously close he’d come to being slayed that day.

It had taken tremendous amount of self-control on Sanzo’s part, not to have lashed out and simply offed (killed) the boy; in the end, during his pondering Sanzo seeing something in the boy, (in fact Kundrick had reminded him of his own unruly childhood-self,) that Sanzo had decided from henceforth, to judge the boy on his own merit (instead of his father's) and to give him one last chance.

Sanzo then had communicated to Kundrick in no uncertain terms that, if he wished to remain under his guardianship and in his good graces, absolute obedience was required and expected of him. The underlying tone of this last part (of Sanzo’s speech) had been most firm and severe, leaving no room for discussion or negotiation.

 

(END OF SECTION 10)

 

                                                                                   ~

WHEREFORE SACRED CHIMES HAD RANG (CHRISTMAS STORY BY BOST, 2025)

 

All acts of kindness however minuscule do not escape the notice of Heaven, even though they may go unnoticed here on Earth.

Once upon a time in a far-off land there was a magnificent spiritual temple set on a hilltop. Though the mortal beings that inhabited this region (all the myriad beings) worshipped many different gods, they still respected each others religion and at times even actively participated in the other’s celebrations. Christmas time being one such.  

01- WHITE CHURCH -JP

This spiritual temple in particular, its congregation called it the White Church, for the outside stone was exactly that, was magnificent. The tall stained-glass windows, placed specifically to catch best angles of the sun’s rays, depicted angels and brilliantly executed religious scenes praising God Almighty’s power and extolling the virtues of the Christian saints. Pious carpenters had painstakingly carved magnificent wooden reliefs above and to the sides of the main entrance. The Church’s most prominent feature however was the white stone tower with ivy growing over it as far up as the eye can see. In the steeple an array of Christmas chimes was housed.

Every Christmas Eve many inhabitants of the city, re-enacting an old tradition, flocked to this church bringing with them many offerings to their savior, the Christ Child. Legends told of a time when, after the greatest and best offering was laid on the altar, there arose above the voices of the choir a beautiful sound, emanating from the top of the tower the most divine music of the Christmas Chimes.

Some claimed it had to be the wind that rang them, while other more pious ones believed in their heart of hearts, and exclaimed loudly so, that it had to be the angels that set the bells swinging to produce that heavenly sound.

Then came a time when, however great the offerings were, the chimes never again created blissful melody. As a result, the pious group belonging to this church were saddened, feeling there must be something amiss. Yet many Christmases came and went, and no chimes (no heavenly music) were ever heard.

02- WARRIOR ERLAND

It so happened that there was a disillusioned, recluse warrior called Erland, his name meaning, aptly, an outsider or foreigner. He was of about thirty-five years old, height over six feet tall, burly physique (muscular, strong, robust body) with long blond hair that cascaded down his shoulders.  Erland had never been married, he lived a solitary life, by choice, with his dog Longze as his sole companion, in a ramshackle hut at the edge of a dense forest, not far from the notable church.

This once a mighty warrior had a deep scar, from his eyebrow to chin, on his left cheek, which in part spoiled his very handsome features (face). He had many more scars under his tunic and on the rest of his body that told of many fought battles won or lost.  At the end of one such fierce battle, when the crimson ground was strewn (spotted) with dead and dying warriors, Erland searching for his fallen friend, had instead found Longze, a tiny little whelp no more than three months old, curled up beside a bloody corpse of a warrior; the puppy was cold and frightened, but refused to leave his master. Such resolute loyalty had tugged at Erland’s heartstrings, and he’d reached to pick him up. The puppy, despite its size was fierce and fought him, even bit his hand, which had made Erland love him all the more.  In time Longze, the name that had come to him in a premonitory dream shortly thereafter, and upon waking he’d called him by that name and the little puppy had responded to his call. Gradually Longze had accepted him as his new master and the two had since then had become basically (essentially,) inseparable.

03  PUPPY LONGZE 2

Erland, sometimes visited the local tavern to have a pint or two, always seated in a dark corner, rarely accepting company, with Longze always by his side.  Once or twice, Erland had acquiesced however, needing contact with another human soul and it had happened to be at around winter solstice and Christmas. On that particular night, feeling unusually sentimental, and thinking he had the other’s ear (that he was being heard), Erland, had reminisced (recalled) a time when his mother had spoken to him of hearing the chimes when she was but a little girl. In her waning years, always a devout Christian, she had mourned the fact that lately people had become more selfish and grown less generous in their hearts with their donations for the needy. That the last five years love and compassion for a fellow being had gradually diminished, in some cases had been entirely nonexistent; pomp and ceremony, hand in hand with greed and ambition taking root instead. As a result, when an offering was made without the purest heart and intentions and it had become only a show, it did not move the angels and justly did not merit the music of the chimes.

Erland stopping at this point, had quaffed (guzzled) a swig (mouthful) of the barely tolerable brew, for he’d imbibed better spirits in his heyday, then nodded morosely and then asked, not really expecting an answer, “As testament of these demoralizing times, when was the last time anyone had heard of the chimes?”

Even though wars had ended and on the surface, subsequent six or seven years, all seemed peaceful, there was a hidden coercion (undercurrent censorship) in that realm; and certainly, no one wanted to hear the truth; and so, the person seated across from Erland had typically fidgeted, blinking first with fright , then furtively casting  his stone gaze about him, to ascertain that no one had heard Erland’s rebellious tirade (rant). But Erland had kept his voice low, he was simply letting off steam, not a shout certainly that could be overheard amidst this drunken cacophony (discord, noise) of patrons (regulars) of the tavern. His burly companion, seeing he was safe, exhaled in relief as he, same time lowered his head and said nothing.

“Why did he bother?” Erland inwardly scoffed; angry that he was a wolf still living among sheep.

Swallowing his irritation however, Erland simply (bolted) rose to his feet, and with trusted companion dog Longze, wagging his tale, happy to be at last leaving this loud, stinky environment, trailing him, left the tavern.  

Subsequent winter had been particularly harsh for those living on the fringe (peripheral, the outlying areas). Snow and ice had permanently for months, covered the entire region. When the warrior Erland, having stayed out in the woods longer than he should, hunting for game, and later still chopped some wood, hence, was beset with fever, burning up in his bed, his exasperated dog Longze had finally on the third day left his side to go fetch him some help. But owing to the frantic, festive time, help was not that easy to get. Still, Erland’s faithful companion Longze, had unrelentingly tried and tried, seeking help, trying to fetch anyone, without avail, for his master.

                                                                                              ~

04- TAZA AND KALEN'S PARENTS- RICK AND ELSA

In a remote country village, several miles from the capital city Mortak, meanwhile, there lived a boy named Taza and his little brother Kalen. Their parents had once belonged to an indigenous group that had been systematically hunted to near extinction, because they had refused to forsake their heritage and conform to the rigid rules of this present regime.  Taza and Kalen’s highly educated parents who had chosen to live on the fringe, had always fostered tolerance of all spiritual beliefs and traditions; however, they had same time maintained their heritage (birthright) ideologies and different sort of religious beliefs... One embracing warship of Sun, Moon, Sky and the nature spirits.

Meanwhile, as the information about varied different religions were readily available at libraries and schools, Taza and Kalen had been drawn, especially at Christmas, to the religious practices of Christianity.  There were many beautiful aspects in that religious teachings (doctrines), and profuse (abundant) lessons and stories that had captivated their young imagination; hence, at Christmas time, they were as excited in their hearts and were eager to participate in copious (plentiful) religion’s traditions and festivities.

05- TAZA (22) JP

This winter marked the time, which their parents had been dead for over three years; fever had claimed them both, and Taza now at sixteen years old, as the sole provider, had done his best to in all that time, provide for his little brother Kalen. This was no small feat, for Kalen with his boundless exuberance, was a handful.

As education was widely available and was free (state funded) to all citizens, Taza and Kalen had continued with their schooling, and with their eager mind and insatiable appetites for acquiring new knowledge having never waned (diminished), each day they had borne (endured, weathered) the difficult terrain (topography) and at times harsh conditions of climate (weather, temperatures), and walked quite ways to attend school. It was during an ordinary school day that Kalen had overheard a group of kids that were eagerly discussing all the elaborate preparations their families (more than that, the whole congregation) had accomplished (fulfilled) for the upcoming Christmas celebrations.

Intrigued by all that he’d heard, Kalen, who was six years in age, later that day, had pleaded and pleaded with his elder brother Taza to take him to that particular spiritual white temple, the White Church. His curious nature demanded that he experienced it firsthand, for only then he would understand what all the fuss was about.  It was a perfect time to do this, as the school would be closed for ten days to also accommodate the winter solstice revelling, and other such, with groups rejoicing, with their own brand of festivities all over the region. Kalen had looked up at his brother with those wanting, puppy eyes, that always tugged at Taza’s heart’s strings. How could Taze say no?

06- KALEN (14) JP

This was also a particularly somber time for Taza and Kalen, as they watched joyful family interactions (exchanges), knowing they were all alone in the world; nevertheless, they did their best to celebrate, finding solace in the fact that they still had each other. They also carried the unwavering hope that Heaven would provide them with whatever they needed.

After a long consideration, Taza had answered yes, to Kalen, and watched him do a joyful dance, as he with his open palms reaching up to the sky, twirled about, elated, anticipating the thrilling adventure they were about to embark on.  

Always the responsible youth, Taza woke up at first daylight the following morning and bundled some dry rations, mainly two hard boiled eggs, half a loaf of bread, a clump of hard cheese, strips of dried meat and some seasonal berries, in a cloth and tied its ends. Leaving it on the side table, Taza then gently woke Kalen from his deep slumber; they had a quick breakfast, then Taza picking up the already prepared bundle, slung it over his shoulder and both exited their humble abode.

The days preceding (prior to) Christmas were always bitterly cold with frigid temperatures plunging below zero and made worse by thrashing winds that whipped and punished any wayward souls who dared venture outside.  Knowing this, they had set forth on their adventure with skins of water that hung at their waists and, both already dressed in several layers to escape the bitter, bone chilling hoarfrost (rime frost and ice).
For untold hours the boys trudged to cover the great distance to the place where the White Temple stood. Huddled together, they walked hand in hand bending their backs to brace themselves against the strong winds. The icy drizzle still however, mercilessly chilled them to the very marrow of their bones. By dusk they were tired, famished and exhausted, almost unable to take another step, yet the lights of the big structure now visible, perched on a hilltop, just ahead, egged them to soldier on.

At dusk, panting, they at long last approached the gates of the Temple ground; their eyes assessed the long gravely, icy path, configuring the steps they would still have to take before reaching the Temple’s doors.  From the look of things, the afternoon prayers had already been concluded; however, there was the evening prayers and activities yet to transpire, so the gates had remained wide open for the anticipated congregation (worshipers, flock, churchgoers, parishioners).

Taza and Kelon, though extremely tired, without stopping passed through the iron gates and began walking the long path; just then however, Taza spotted off to the side something dark on the snow and he veered off to take a closer look. It was a poor dog who had obviously suffered a mishap, some trauma and fallen into the shallow ditch. Stranded, he lay there practically half-dead, too sick and shivering with cold, to rise up and seek help. Rushing over, Taza knelt beside the poor thing, and carefully examined his injuries, paying particular attention to the incapacitated leg. Thankfully the bone was not broken but there was a deep slash (tear, cut) into the muscle, though not too serious and the wound was fresh. It had happened recently, for the blood was congealed, frozen but not black, the laceration not angry, therefore, no infection had set in.  Taza heaved a deep sigh of relief and before starting anything, checked the dog’s name tag, to find out his name. Longze was his name. Just then Longze had opened his eyelids and looked at Taza, his eyes searching, wanting something; next he then with some difficulty lifted his head, whimpering, nudging his nose on Taza’s hand and same time, strove to get up.

07- LONGZE INJURED AND IN DITCH

“Take it easy boy; I mean you no harm. Be still Longze… stay put, I’ll do my best to help you.” Taza talked to the dog soothingly as he, same time stroked the side of Longze’s keck.  He was good with animals that way. The poor thing was shivering, he was certainly freezing; without another thought, Taza took off his outer layer and wrapped it around the dog, to allow him some warmth. Understanding that he was also dehydrated, Taza fetched his waterskin; intelligent animal that Lonze was, he opened his mouth and allowed Taza to trickle some water down his throat.  

Taza next began tending the injured leg carefully as if he had all the time in the world. Fortunately, Taza had also packed some salve (lotion, ointment, balm), a healing liniment, which he carried in his pocket for just in case they got scraped or injured.

First, by rubbing some snow on the area, Taza carefully cleaned the laceration (slash) on the leg, then applied the salve on it. Next, he cut long strips off his tunic and used it to bandage the wound.

While he’d done all that, Kelan had stood by patiently, watching him intently, though he registered deep concern and impatience in his eyes, for they were in a snowy field, some ways off the path.  Kalen feared that when darkness descended on them, no one would know they are there. The sky laden with clouds and this, coupled with the diminishing light of the setting sun, would soon shroud (blanket) them in pitch darkness and invisible.

Just then, as if reading his mind, Taza suddenly looked up and addressed his little brother, “It’s no use, Kalen; I can’t leave Longze in this condition. You go on ahead to the church, without me.”

“Alone?” cried Kalen in a fearful voice. “No, I can’t. I can’t let you ... miss the Christmas Festival.”

“You are brave, just go on by yourself. I’ll be fine and, I’ll be right here when you come back. I must tend to his other needs; there is still more to be done.  I know he’s starving.”

Taza then questioned the canine: “How long has it been boy, since you’ve eaten?”  He asked the poor thing, not expecting any answer. He looked at those soulful eyes of Longze, who lacked (human speech) vernacular ability to communicate something that was obviously vital(critical)… That of which wasn’t about him…. It was something imperative, something else.

“How horrible it must be, to be without the faculty of human speech?”  Taza pensively nodded his head and then turned to look at Kalen, who remained reluctant to leave, and pleaded.
“Go on Kalen; please don’t make things any harder, I can’t leave him in this state!”

Kalen knitted his brows and pouted; then, with certain resignation, turned to go.

“Oh, wait…”  Taza suddenly urgently cried out, remembering something.  He then quickly reached deep into to his inner pocket and withdrew a treasured object for his little brother to take.

“I’d done some preliminary reading on this religion; offerings could also be made at this particular time for the souls of the departed; it will bring them apt solace in afterlife. If you get a chance, little brother, to slip up to the altar without getting in anyone's way, please take this little wooden angel (which I’ve carved) and (the copper  coin) the two pence, and place them all down, as our offering, before the icon (image) of their deity, for our parents’ sake, when no one is looking. That way it will be the same as me going there. "

08 -KALEN HOLDING ANGEL AND TWO COINS (15) JP 2

Kalen had simply nodded and then with a heavy heart left Taza; someways down, he looked back over his shoulder and saw that his brother Taza was now feeding the strips of dried meat they had taken along, to the one that needed it the most. Kalen smiled in approval, thinking how fortunate he was to have such a kind, loving brother, which made him feel that instant, warm and safe all over.

“You can do this; you are no coward!” Thereafter, sticking his chin out, he hastened his steps, to reach the procession of the people, that had alighted (descended) from their posh (grand) carriages and were presently ascending (climbing), the stairs of the Temple.

The decked-out interior of the great church was truly a magnificent place that night. The decorations, lights and glitter, all the displays, riches he’d never seen the like of before simply took his little breath away. A small urchin like himself was virtually invisible amidst the procession as they took their gifts for the Christ Child to the altar.
Some worshipers laid down wonderful jewels; some gave baskets with massive amounts of gold so heavy they could scarcely carry them down the aisle. A famed author laid down his prized work, a book he had, after many years, just completed.

09- FAMOUS AUTHOR OFFERS A BOOK

Then the King and Queen appeared in all their majesty, hoping, like the least petitioner, to win for themselves the music of the Christmas chimes. A great murmur rippled through the church as the people witnessed the King, additionally, taking his priceless golden crown, set with diamonds and rare precious gems, from his head and laying it to gleam on the alter as his offering to the Christ Child.

“Surely, “They intoned in unison, “Surely we shall hear the bells now.” But the chimes did not ring. Not even a whimper was heard.

When the gifts were all on the altar, prayers uttered, long sermon ended and finally, the choir began the closing hymn…. And still no chimes manifesting…. By degrees, the disappointed crowd, murmuring under their breath, slowly but surely, began to disperse.

Suddenly however, the organist had abruptly ceased (stopped) his playing; and everyone shocked (holding their breath), looked aghast at the old Priest, who was holding up his hand for silence.

“What’s this?” A hushed murmur rippled through the air.

For unmistakably, when the people strained their ears and listened hard, there came at first a manifest unearthly sound of akin harp; but then, resonating through the air, softly but distinctly, ensued (materialized) the heavenly music of the chimes in the tower!

The divine music seemed so far away and yet so clear. The notes were so much sweeter than any sound they had ever heard. Melody rising and falling in the sky was so entrancing that the people in the church held their breath and stood perfectly still.

Then they all stood up together and stared at the altar, wanting to see what great gift had awakened these long-silent chimes. But all the nearest of them saw was the figure of Kalen, who had crept softly down the aisle, perfectly unseen and placed Taza’s little wooden angel and the two pieces of copper on the altar. He’d then quickly left, never realizing the miracle he’d gifted to the people.

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

 

The story could well end here, but not just yet.

 

The two brothers, Taza and Kalen, had followed the guidance of the Longze, part carrying him, part following him, that night, to finally, after a long trek, they had reached the wooden cabin at the edge of the forest.

Inside, they discovered, the ailing Erland, still in the grip of fever but stubbornly hanging onto life.

 Longze, with renewed strength had rushed to the side of his master, nuzzling Erland’s head and whimpering to him that help was there, to hang on. The warrior Erland seemed to understand his dog’s urgent pleas and forced open his eyes to take a good long look at Taza. He nodded his head and closed his eyes, though temporarily.

Taza, despite his young age, knew exactly what to do, for after his parent’s demise, he had diligently studied and acquired the amassed knowledge of how to cure this terrible fever which had taken so many lives.

He had been motivated since that time, with strong determination not to have this sickness rob anyone else of a loved one, not if he could help it. He’d poured into books absorbing, learning every bit of knowledge that provided the cure and moreover, he had sought the help of homeopathic healers nearby. And learned to identify the key plants that was helpful in eliminating some of the symptoms.  These accrued (combined) information permanently committed to memory; he set to work at once to help cure this ailing solitary warrior Erland.

As Taza tended to the sick warrior Erland, little brave Kalen and Longze proved two useful assistants in foraging (finding) the necessary herbs, which was essentially easy feat, once one knew where to find it

Local physicians could not have achieved what Taza did after a week; for he had put his heart and his very soul into curing Erland.  Taza during that week, many a night loosing sleep, had worked (diligently) tireless, long laborious hours, to diminish Erland’s fever and afford him comfort. Then as his condition began to improve, Taza nursed him back to health by providing him apt nourishment and allowing warrior’s own natural immune system to also assist in speeding up his convalescence. 

And yes, Erland finally recovered; he was so filled with gratitude and loved these two boys, understanding how very heroic, self-sacrificing, stoic, precious things they were, that he later, formally (legally) adapted them as his children. And so, a loving family (of four) was formed, including Longze of course.  Longza lived to a ripe old age (dog’s years), contended and never lacking for anything.

Erland was also, for the first time ever, was at peace with his past; he spent the rest of his life protecting, nurturing Taza and Kalen and bringing them up proper and later still, passing on his warrior skills onto them.

 

The End 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 32

 

 With nothing else left to do, Tizan donned (wore, put on) Captain Duko's attire over the light armor he kept on underneath to protect him from arrows then, as ordered, went back below decks to retrieve (fetch) Disaidun Agripe.

This time quite unexpectedly, Disaidun’s spineless husband, having mustered all his courage, charged at Tizan just as they were headed out the door. 

 

01- CEROS AGRIPE STRIKES BACK

Though Ceroz Agripe was half-crazed, filled with remorse and rage, he was still no match for the Lieutenant of Imperial guards and so, with just one blow from the back of his fist, hardly any effort at all on Tizan's part, Ceroz was hurled right across the room, bloodied and almost cataleptic (almost out cold), to crash onto the floor of the cabin.

 "You dare oppose me, wretch!" Tizan’s rage not assuaged, growling he went over to deliver a couple of vicious kicks to the Ceroz's side; the force of the second kick was such, it lifted the massive body up and slammed (smashed, crashed) it against the far wall of the cabin.

 

02- CEROS AGRIPE KICKED TO FAR END

 Tizan turned his fiery gaze back to the woman Disaidun Agripe and bellowed.  "What have you done to him to bring him to such a state?"

Not condescending to answer, Disaidun Agripe simply shrugged and walked on ahead.

“Quite the vixen, aren't you?” Tizan smirked as he locked and barred the door behind them.  In truth he liked a woman with such spunk but, since Captain Zunrogo had taken special interest in her, she was off-limits to him.  Such was the rule he had always lived by and continued to follow. 

Grabbing Disaidun Agripe’s arm forcefully next, and ignoring her volley of threats, he lugged (toted) her to the barricade.  "This is your post.  The captain forbids you to stray an inch from this point…  Understand?"  Only then Tizan let go of her arm. He was inwardly thrilled at her repressed seething contempt for him, and could not help but provoke her further, "We have only a few hours now before the fog lifts.  If you want to pray for your salvation, go ahead; now may be your only chance."  He smirked.

 

Her retort froze on her lips when her eye just then caught the exceptionally crafted crossbow leaning in the far corner.  Walking over, Disaidun Agripe picked it up, examined it carefully and said, “Where did you find this?  It’s magnificent."

Then, she sedately withdrew an arrow from its quiver.

 

“Show off, as if you can discern a good weapon from a bad one.  Some maven (expert, professional, doyen) you are.” He’d inwardly scoffed, fixing his cold gaze at her; Tzan once more could not resist goading (inciting) her, "You do know how to use it, I trust?".

 

Disaidun Agripe did not answer him but, instead, loaded the arrow in the blink of an eye then aimed it directly at Tizan's heart and asked. “Do you want a demonstration?"

This was too much!  Throwing his head back and trusting his hidden armor, Tizan laughed heartily, "Go ahead, I dare you to."

 

03-TZAN JP

Just then Zunrogo appeared on the scene, his stern looks at once sending Tizan without another word, scurrying off to above deck, to take up his assigned post.

Disaidun Agripe’s (Jepipi's) alluring approach was met with the same icy rebuke.

Not taking it to heart, she behaved as if he bade her, sizing up Zunrogo from the corner of her eye and admiring his heroic countenance.

 

“By the Gods, he is magnificent! “Gearing up for this single, bitter battle, she was positive he would triumph over any foe, however invincible, before the end of the day.

                                                                                         ~

 

For seemingly endless hours now, Disaidun Agripe (Miss Jepipi) had fidgeted at her post.  These times preceding an engagement (battle) had always seemed to drag on forever; furthermore, the angry rants and ravings of her half-crazed husband Ceroz, only two doors down aggravated her soul and ignited her ire, making things far worse.

“Oh, why won't he shut up?” Disaidun Agripe groaned, for her conscience bothered her a little now; after all, it was she who had brought him to this state.

“But it was necessary,” she told herself to ease the guilt.  “I had to do what I did to survive.  Why couldn't he be a bit more like his half-brother?  Insipid fool brought this misfortune down upon himself because he's less of a man, he’s so weak! “Her face contorted in disgust.

 

                                                                             ~

 

Yesterday, upon her return from her blissful experience with Zunrogo, she had hesitated for a few moments outside the cabin door, just long enough to dishevel her hair, loosen her belt, scratch her shoulders, and rip her bodice slightly, altering her appearance and assuming a tragic countenance.

 Let inside and, finally free (away) from Tizan's prying eyes, Disaidun had then given an incredible performance of a woman who had been both physically and mentally abused.

 

Ceroz Agripe already looked haggard, his face unusually gaunt and pale, and his eyes sunken and bloodshot.  It tore at his heart and ripped his bowels to shreds, nearly driving him to the brink of insanity to hear Disaidun’s embellished accounts of the shameful mauling (pawing, battering) that she had supposedly endured at the hands of that vile, lecherous old official, Luvet. That’s right; not Zunrogo but Luvet, her husband was led to believe, was the supposed sole perpetrator of this grievous sexual assault on his beloved wife Disaidun.

 

04- LUVET

Luvet’d spared her face but not her body, under her garments, she’d claimed, was all black and blue as testament of his ill treatment. She had brazenly offered to show it to him but Ceroz, the fool, trusting in her implicitly, simply taken her at her word.

Ceroz Agripe was further led to believe that, behind Luvet's seemingly benign, quiet disposition lay a calculating, sinister, greedy, licentious, and vindictive villain who had, from the moment he’d laid eyes on Disaidun, lusted after her and from then on shamelessly had striven (endeavored) to possess her.

The convincing story Disaidun fed her husband was wretched enough in itself but her quiet tears, her unspoken insinuations just compounded Ceroz’s already intolerable existence, his unbearable misery. Highly incensed, Ceroz Agripe’d gnashed his teeth, shaken his fist in the air and vowed to exact vengeance on that dog's spawn. 

“He'd make him pay dearly for his vile deeds, enlist the help of his half-brother, Zohuj Kez and his influential friends, if needs be.”

"And how do you propose to survive this present danger?  You know you're powerless to stop him or them."  Disaidun had rebuked him, then relayed to him the information she’d overheard, when they thought she’d passed out, in Luvet’s cabin.

Luvet the mastermind, Ceroz Agripe came to believe, had conspired from the start with Captain Doku, the two assassins, the Imperial guard Tizan and Captain Zunrogo, and the seemingly upright scholar, to intercept in mid-stream a tribute vessel bound for the Capital with its cargo of gold bullion.

The details of this grand larceny had been worked out months in advance, down to the minutest point and, the specific measures needed for smooth transition and the eventual execution, now had been finalized.  Many more were involved in a scheme of this magnitude, including some subversives planted on the targeted vessel. The few expendable passengers/witnesses, like them, were all imprisoned in their cabins, to be dealt with later; their predictable demise, however, would eliminate (eradicate) any possibility of trouble later-on.

Then she reminded her husband how she had wanted to disembark along with the other, lucky passengers when the opportunity had availed itself, when there was still time.

She blamed him, on his short-sightedness, his eagerness to reach his new post, and consequently, for this terrible predicament.

Her ill luck had also been the contributor. She then softening, had exclaimed, looking as though she desperately sought to exonerate at least in part, his guilt, which further endeared her to him, “How wonderful she was; how so very naïve to believe in nonsensical superstition.” Fool that he was, she could read him like a book.

 

05-CEROS AND DISAIDUN AGRIPE

 “Oh, darling husband, what can we do, what can you do to save me?” Once more she had wept unconsolably, heart wrenchingly.  After which, when she, feeling terribly parched, dried her eyes, and asked her husband to fetch her some water from the jug.

Her husband eager to please and to console her had rushed to do her bidding.

 It was at that point in time, when she looking even more dismal (gloomy), robbed him of least hope, by telling him that before she was sent back, she had been told, but was afraid to tell him till then, how the villain Luvet intended to murder Ceroz and the baby and if she did not agree to be his concubine in future, he threatened to sell her into slavery (bondage).

As for the reasons why, she had been sent back, it was simply to allow her to say her final farewells, while they finalized their plan and corrected prior overlooked areas of incongruity (conflict ).

"Oh, dear husband our bliss has been so cruelly cut short; as doomed individuals we are, robbed of ecstasy of growing old together. You’ll never see your son grow up. He’ll never grow up! “Disaidun Agripe had looked at him with hurtful, resigned eyes then burst into loud sobs to once more, wrench his heart.

She’d watched (seen) from the corner of her eye how self-loathing and reproach gnawed at his entrails, how flustered, how sickened at heart he’d suddenly felt, in his dire predicament.

For a brief second, seeing how she had broken him with her words, she had felt the stirring of remorse tugging at her conscience; but she had already resolved in Zunrogo's cabin to carry this ploy through to the bitter end.

"Don't worry, husband," her heart again hardened, she had seized this opportunity to add salt to his open wounds.

 "I will not blame you for what will happen to me in future. As I said earlier, I was born under an unlucky star; it has been my curse my entire life.  I don't see why it should change now.  I'm grateful for this one brief period of happiness you have given me.  It will be one fond memory I will carry with me to my grave."

Then once again Disaidun Agripe had recounted in detail, the shameful episodes with Luvet; at the end of which, she’d thrown herself at her husband’s feet, imploring him to have mercy and, by killing her right there and then, put an end to her torment.

 Of course, Disaidun knew Ceroz was totally incapable of such an act.  It was just one more pummel of guilt, another whack of disgrace, all, fostering chagrin, to further constrict the loop (strap, noose, snare, rope) around her husband’s neck, to sap his honor, his manhood and ultimately, push him over the edge.

Egged on by her pleading the fool had tried, given it his best shot too; to predictably in the end, when, she had started to turn ashen, when her eyes had bulged out only a little and, she had started to emit slight gurgling sounds, he had suddenly broken off his grip on her neck and then, with a horrified look on his face, fallen back.

"I can't go through with it! I'm no murderer." He’d cried out.

 “What did I almost do?” Traumatized Ceroz Agripe had glared hatefully at those still partially clenched, despicable hands that had almost taken the life of his beloved wife.

He had next, burying his face and fallen on his knees, had sobbed hysterically, uncontrollably, like a child.

 

06- DISRAUGHT CEROS AGRIPE

Disaidun Agripe, her senses restored to norm, though inwardly sullen, going over, had murmured her encouragement. "It’s all right, dear.  You did nothing wrong. I asked you to; I made you do it. You are not to be blamed. You are a good man; you always were.  We’ll be all right."  She'd then sobbed inconsolably as she cradled him and rocked his head soothingly in her arms.  "Please don't cry.”

 Drying her tears, she’d then to further shame him, promised resolutely, “You need not try, dear; I’ll find the strength somehow for us both and, avenge this wrong. This time I'll find it in myself too..."  She did not have to complete her sentence, for he had understood (grasped) her meaning. 

Disaidun would rather end her own life by throwing herself into the cold river and perishing in the watery grave, than suffer further shame. 

Her strong determination only belittled him further, robbing what little bit of humanity was left within him.  He felt smaller than a maggot, slime, a piece of offal.

 

 

                                                                              ~

 

 

(END OF SECTION 32)