LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 21

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

02- ABBOT TUHO

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

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

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

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

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

03- NEVETSECNUAC BEING HONORED

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

04- YENIS LUKO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

(END OF SECTION 21)

                                                                                        ~

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 2

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 2

Brandt, returning   to his quarters in exalted spirits a brief time later, was surprised to find Duan seated on the bed fully clothed, carefully wiping his blade clean.  When Brandt   advanced towards him to tell of his findings, something in Duan's demeanor told him that, the other (Duan) already knew. Yet, how could he?

Refusing to believe what his brain was telling him; Brandt   parted his lips to speak. Instantly the words froze on his tongue however, when Duan briefly stayed his hand and ejected coldly, "You were careless to have spared them."

DUAN

"What? Have you, but how?” Brandt   asked in bewilderment, now noting the blood-soaked rag in Duan's hand.

Duan snorted in disgust and went on with his cleaning.

Brandt   meanwhile curtailing the feeling of derision and dread that had suddenly overtaken him, walked over to the dressing table that divided the two beds. From a jar he poured out some water into a cup and took a swig to quench his sudden thirst.

 Then with a disdainful air, going over, he sat at the edge of his bed, inwardly seething with rage and, cogitating, questioning the air on how long Duan had been at the scene. Concealed by the night’s shadows, he had witnessed it all, passing judgment on him with those condescending eyes or being entertained by his no doubt deemed soft-hearted approach and incompetence. Then the moment his (Brandt’s) back was turned, the cold-blooded assassin had, without thought to repercussions, struck again, leaving a bloody trail in his wake.

He threw a cursory glance at Duan; the latter was lost in a world of his own. It was as if Brandt   did not exist at all. He only shared his space; Brandt   was a mere trifle, an insignificant bug, a pest to be tolerated.

For how long, that remained to be seen.

Still, Brandt knew by instinct, that Duan would not strike, not till the task was completed. Pending that time, Brandt was resolved to endure all the scorn and mockery and allow Duan to bask in his superiority.

 

After a while when the task (of cleaning) was complete Duan, putting his sword away, reclined with his head on the pillow and closed his eyes in respite, leaving Brandt   still seated at the edge of the bed with countless unanswered questions.

Duan’s mind, currently, briefly took stock of the evening’s activities, before succumbing to sleep:

 “As far back as he could recall he had always possessed a most remarkably retentive memory. On this night, his initial (preliminary) probe within the restricted area of Sacristy, beyond Scroll- rooms and so-called libraries, had been a wasted effort. But then his subsequent, successful breach of the impenetrable vault at the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s private residence had been, rather, fruitful.”

Duan shifted his body slightly as he tallied up the abundant pertinent information, far more than anticipated, at present cramming his brain. “It was all laid bare in those secreted scrolls- meticulously chronicled lists and countless subversive activities, courtesy of the Abbot, undoubtedly registered for posterity, in that laughable cryptic form.”

“A most definite noose around their necks; but why log such deleterious proof?”

With a wry grin he shook his head. “Men’s arrogance has always been their undoing. Admittedly, some of the past conspiracies had been extraordinary, bordering on genius, superb feats that had furthered their cause.  The accounts of scheduled drops, the elaborate network of men, each knowing only so much, going only so far, all carefully designed to ensure anonymity. That is why this brilliant organization, the perfect scheme to sustain the Traitor and the other, had thus far eluded for over twenty years or so, all the expanded efforts of the emperor, the local governments, secret agents and countless assassins and more.”

A contemptible, sinister smile briefly brushed his lips. “This den of loyalists will duly be extinguished when first the other more important matter is settled.” He snorted.

“He was close, he could sense it.”

In truth he had been looking forward to the impending mortal combat with the infamous Lord. 

That at least had a certain promise of thrill, a feat that had been so hard to attain lately as no other quite measured up to his competence (martial aptitude). He, nevertheless, quickly stifled his perverse ardor.

 “At present he had left things at the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s residence and private compound just as they were, (seemingly) untouched. Nothing will warn them of the violation.”

Duan’s thoughts reverting to Brandt, for a brief spell he inwardly wondered “how much longer he would have to nursemaid this utter fool, who almost foiled his plans. Still, it was a minor inconvenience, nothing serious to be reckoned with; in fact, it served his purpose well.”

Duan inwardly scowled, as he ruminated (cogitated) on how he had disposed of the dismembered bodies in the most ingenious places; these parts would not be discovered till long after their departure of this abominable den of traitors.

 A fleeting baleful leer registered (materialized) on his hard face, as he envisioned the certain future bedlam and the ruffling of those preen feathers of the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s.

“But that too would fall well within his plans. When a certain message of warning is dispatched by means of falcon or such, he would be at the ready then to intercept and to take full account of the direction. It would lead him directly to his prey, far quicker still. “

Already bored by the unvaried nature of things and their predictable outcome, Duan was about to drift into blissful sleep, when "Brother, should we not be taking our leave now?” Brandt’s cantankerous query violated the quiet of the room.

Receiving no response, Brandt   swallowed his rage and frustration, went over, and snuffed out the lamp, then still fully dressed noisily threw his body onto the bed. Though he too closed his eyes, sleep averted him and even after several hours of turning, tossing, and trying to make sense to himself his aggravation refused to diminish.

 In pitch darkness where imagined silhouettes danced (bopped) in the air, Brandt   again asked a question, "Brother, where did you dump the bodies?"  But gallingly, the eerie silence persisted.

Matching his inner mood, the room’s stifling air grew to be unbearably more confining, yet despite his discomfort, Brandt   refused to divest himself of his clothes and lay on the bed as is for the rest of the night, nursing a grievance, fuming and trying to anticipate Duan's next move.

 He did not know how, but he must have fallen asleep for, just before dawn he was violently shaken awake by Duan, who then rudely informed him that they were about to take their leave.

Brandt   sprang to his feet at once and hastily began gathering his baggage. Duan had already headed out the door. "Wait up, brother,” Brandt   had scant time to shout, before he too following suit, darted out the door after Duan.

Along the way curious thoughts plagued Brandt’s mind and, soon after, suspicious ones supplanted it (took root). “Why did Duan even bother to wake me up? Why had he not taken his leave, abandoning me to answer for the consequences of his vile deed, unless he has further use for me? But once the task is completed and I have become expandable, what then? Ha, that is what he thinks!”

Brandt   scoffed angrily, grinding his teeth. “We will see who'll snuff out whom in the end!”

Brandt   had hastened so much to catch up with Duan that pearls of perspiration now gathered on his brow despite the frigid morning air.  The stable hands were disgruntled at being aroused so early from their sleep, since the first rays of light had not yet reached the earth, but they dared not voice their discontent to Duan and wiping the sleep from their eyes, complied with Duan’s wishes, grumbling under their breath as they did.

Brief time later, Brandt   and Duan were seen bidding the monks a curt farewell, then holding the bridles of their horses, inaudibly (noiselessly) exiting the guest compounds and the main area. 

They passed through the just opened gates, under watchful eyes of sentry that curiously enough did not venture to question or hinder their clearly impetuous departure. Because the winding path leading from the gate was too steep to negotiate on horseback, they descended the slopes on foot, silent and self-absorbed, engulfed by that tense, eerie (somber) atmosphere, gradually diminishing in size till they were nothing more than specks in that hostile region.

Once the Temple was completely out of sight Brandt, unable to contain his curiosity (prying), yet again inquired after the fate of the two unfortunate monks.  Even then he had to ask Duan thrice before the latter finally consented to give his response.

Brandt’s blood curdled as he listened to the gory details which Duan now callously embellished. Brandt   could not conceal his involuntary shudder, ascertained now more than ever that he was riding alongside (beside) a monster, a creature devoid of (least moral conscience or conduct,) any mercy or remorse who had dared do such vile things to men of the cloth.

The resulting end was the drawn-out boisterous laughter from Duan which pierced Brandt’s ears and further grated his nerves. Brandt   sullenly looked away and bit hard on his upper lip to constrain his bursting fury so as not to compound latter’s perverse satisfaction.

                                                                                    ~

 

Meanwhile back at the Monastery, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn had been given the full report pertaining to Brandt Dustin and Duan’s last night’s activities and their hasty, early departure.

MONK KEIR

Monk Keir was irked at having to give his report of failure. Especially since he could not rightly say how he had lost the surveillance on Duan. One moment he was there, the next instant he had disappeared from plain sight. Keir had been assigned to this task because of his proficiency (special expertise), yet he’d failed and failed miserably.  Reading scant clues, he had searched high and low, but Duan’s trace could not be had anywhere; then suddenly after an appreciable amount of time just as mysteriously, Duan had appeared back in his quarters. There was no accounting for his activities, save for that bloody sword that did not bode well at all.

Shingue had done better with his assignment and reported Brandt’s exchange with the monks Fayet and Muro in detail.

After their dismissal, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn with his hands clasped behind his back, paced the length of the room to and from in complete silence, before sitting himself down with an apparent grave heart.

His trusted assistant Prior Skceno waited with due patience for Boqast Tizanzenn to speak. His own reports were just as grim, and he hated adding to his Eminence’s troubles.

“True, Muro’s cover had been blown right from the start, but his life was spared, and so did not fall prey to some accident of sorts, as it served them well to use Muro as counterintelligence without his knowing. They had allowed Muro to make certain observations and send on his reports, on regular basis (intervals) to Capital; only midway these were interrupted and scrutinized, revised then altered to appear significant yet altogether harmless intelligence to their cause.”

“They had perfected the forging of his handwriting so well that Muro himself would not be the wiser if he were ever to be confronted by (or asked to give account for) these. He was also secretly permitted to pursue his passion for inebriation as it kept him out of trouble. Lately, however, he had been more persistent with his espionage, undercover work, call it a hunch, and decidedly more determined to expose suspected proscribed activities within the monastery.  Yet after this length of time, he could not be dismissed or openly discarded without raising undue suspicion from the Department of Internal Security. Now this problem was resolved for them.” He winced when the newly (brief time ago) uncovered gruesome images intruded into his brain and he quickly pushed it aside.

“The vile assassin Duan had to have been dispatched from the Capital also, but he would be dealt with, long before he gained the chance to boast of his wicked (debauched) accomplishments.” Again, it took serious mental constraint to dissipate those disturbing images and focus his attention instead, on the matter at hand.

“The concealment must be precise and absolute.”  Skceno nodded resolutely, pursing his lips.  “Then in a few months’ time, long after the funeral and scattering of ashes, when in an annual report to the Census bureau, the deaths of Fayet and Muro are disclosed to the authorities, in preparation for the sure to be subtle inquiry, the carefully fabricated versions of their sudden demise would have to be already inserted into their personnel records, something believable and mundane, such as a fatal accident (result of a rock/mud slide) or an illness.”

PRIOR SKCENO

Skceno would not rule out the possibility of an insect bite or tainted medicinal concoction. He thoughtfully looked away. “The latter would be a more apt cause, as Muro always dabbled in these arts.”

“Subsequently, an ideal replacement would be sent from the Capital; an excellent candidate amidst the pious few that aspired to join this monastery. He must be on the lookout for that also. For the time being, he absently nodded. I shall omit rather, postpone the horrid, grisly aspects of their slaughter (murder) and instead broach the subject in a more equable light to his Holiness (Grace).”

Skceno’s intent was temporarily stymied however, by Boqast Tizanzenn’s sudden, concerned exclamation. “I cannot rightly put it,” he begun, “for there is no specific proof, no clear indication, least sign (mark) of tampering of the vault, yet I am of the opinion, my personal records have been somewhat violated, examined (or skimmed) by an unsanctioned, unscrupulous being!”

“But how can that be, Your Eminence, even I, your most trusted advisor and assistant, don’t know of the whereabouts or combination of such?”  With certain tact, he had abstained from outwardly mentioning the word vault.

“Yet there had been an intrusion, I’m certain of it!” Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn looked grave, almost angry.

“And it’s not hard to guess who?” He fell silent, pondering on his next course of action.

“Judging by the intelligence they had gathered; he could anticipate the target of the assassins’ dogged pursuit. As failsafe, he could covertly send men after them, but even before this, he must send word, to warn Stark of this imminent peril. Hmmmmm?”

 

                                                                 ~

 

(END OF SECTION 2)