LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 36

 

 

"Good girl!"  Zunrogo exclaimed in pleasure as he noted the mountain of bodies piled up before the still standing barricade.  The few who still showed signs of life were quickly disposed of then moved aside to clear a path to the blockage.

Disaidun Agripe (Ms. Jepipi) had been as good as her word, more than several dozen lives had been snuffed out by her excellent marksmanship; however, her lack of response to Zunrogo's call at present gave rise to silent speculation.

“Maybe she’s already done me the favor.” Zunrogo mused.

 

01- ZUNROGO TUGO- JP  19

Zunrogo glancing at the heaps of dead men, suddenly however noticed, another irregularity. Many more of the assailants had been cut down by a sword. These mangled and hacked down men were attacked by an expert swordsman or swordsmen.

“Oh, no!” A sudden alarm gripped Zunrogo’s heart, and he shouted at Tizan to help him clear the way quickly, for he needed to get to Disaidun at once.  Soon as they had a viable path (gap,), Zunrogo swiftly advanced through the narrow strip, while Tizan up ahead, continued diligently to widen the course.  Once through to the other side, Zunrogo knelt beside unresponsive Disaidun Agripe who sat with her head and back (leaned) slumped against the wall and quickly checked her pulse.  He was not entirely concerned about the state of her condition; however, first and foremost, he needed to know if the letter was still there. He shook his head to purge slight reminiscences of his last intimate encounter with her, then fixing his attention on the part of her bodice where she had concealed the letter, his hand quickly reached beneath, to promptly retrieve it and secured it underneath his armor.

Tizan’s curious, though somewhat licentious (profligate, wicked) gaze was met by the captain’s hardhearted and cruel smirk. Tizan swiftly turned his slightly reddened face away to conceal (hide) his dubious and racy thoughts.  “So, the captain’s prior, impious relation with her, his supposed foible, carried the purpose other than carnal (sensual) indulgence (desire, need).  As there is no room for mistakes in this detachment, I should have been more astute.”  

 

Zunrogo meanwhile, was beset with some unsettling facts that had suddenly invaded his brain and needed clarification. “Decidedly she’d been overwhelmed from behind; was this carnage result of the suspected, but never uncovered, covert Black Moloch infiltrator on board? Was he still on board; for clearly, he hadn’t retrieved what he must have been assigned to do? What scared him off? Later, in private and away from Tzan’s prying eyes, he must examine the letter more (closely) carefully. “

Zunrogo’s quiet reflections suddenly ceased (halted, stayed), when she slightly stirred and at the same time, a faint groan emanated from her throat. Though her pulse was faint and her breathing shallow, a brief scrutiny revealed that she had sustained grave injuries to her head, her shoulder and left arm, as well deep cuts and scrapes here and there; therefore, as much as he’d liked to, Zunrogo could not bring her around to a sensible state, to inquisition her. True enough, she was at death’s door; however, even if she lasted long enough, still, it would take no small miracle for her to regain her faculties and in her poor state, even if she’d regained consciousness, she would still not be cognitive enough to satisfactorily answer his imminent queries, luxury of time he did not have.

For a second Zunrogo’s suspicions fell on Tzan.  “No,” He quickly dismissed that thought. Tzan had fought valiantly by his side and besides, wasn’t Tzan totally passed out, unconscious when Zunrogo regained consciousness.

Tzan had all this time, with his back to Zunrogo, continued with his dismantling the barricade.

As he labored Tzan grimaced coldly.  “Wonder what it was he took from her? …. Still, in all these years under his command, never once have I seen him do anything without a sinister reason or an underlying dark motive.  I wonder what’s really at stake here?”

 

02- 11-TZAN JP

Proceeding with methodical efficiency, Tzan had, in no time at all, disengaged (severed, disarmed) remaining, pertinent, lethal traps and cleared away the key barriers.  The rest Tzan was told, could later be safely handled by the crew, after they are released from their locked cabins.  This measure of keeping the crew safe had been deemed necessary, for they were essential in manning the vessel of this size.

 

 Tzan was about to go upstairs to first, finish disposing of the corpses into the river, when he was just then called to Zunrogo’ side. 

"She's not dead." the captain announced coldly, indicating Disaidun Agripe (Ms. Jepipi).

 "Take her body to her cabin and let her husband deal with her last-minute rites.”

Tzan, leaning over her warm body, understood her grave state of health at once and looked at askance (sideways, suspiciously) at Zunrogo.  “He is not known for showing least amount of mercy to anyone who’s outlived their usefulness; unless… she still has some benefit (consequence) to be utilized… hmm?”  But Tzan shifted his body with unease as he was once more mired (puzzled, stumped) by Zunrogo’s enigmatic mind, unable to phantom the captain’s decidedly sinister, future objective.

Only few hours prior, she’d been so full of life; now she was barely alive, what further use was she to Zunrogo?  Tzan could not help feeling a small measure of sadness for her short-lived ecstasy.  Zunrogo, contrastingly, with not a shred of sympathy or remorse, was already headed down the hall.

 

The time it took for Tzan to pick up the pliant body of Disaidun Agripe, Zunrogo was fast unlocking the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald's door. Fradel emerged just in time to see Tzan, with her limp, broken body draped over his shoulder, going down the hall towards her cabin.

The scholar's inquisitive (questioning) gaze constrained Zunrogo to give a brief account of her involvement in the struggle: how she, being an accomplished archer, had offered her services and how, despite his own reservations, he had engaged (utilized) her abilities to safeguard the rest of the passengers, including Fradel.  He curtly (briskly) praised Disaidun Agripe’s courage and skill, noting how she had claimed few dozen lives before she, herself, had tragically been injured beyond recovery (saving); hence, she’d been allowed this precious remaining time to be spent saying farewells to her husband and child.

"There’s really no way she can be saved?" Zunrogo shook his head and gestured to sternly cut off Fradel's anticipated next inquiry.  "Pity, all the courage she has shown is totally lacking in Official Ceros Agripe.” Zunrogo derisively (sarcastically) snorted and looked away. “Let him come to terms with this new reality and then grieve for his impending loss in private; besides, the last thing we need now is the complications from a hysterical husband.  The rest, including the official Luvet and the crew, will be appraised of the near miss peril they’d been spared, all in good time, well after all the corpses are made fish meal.” 

“Meanwhile, for their sake and for ours, the less they know the better." Zunrogo impatiently then added that he’d taken this ill-afford time, out of courtesy to Fradel, to appraise him of the facts.  Now that the danger had passed, all that remained was the cleanup. He next went on to say, as a matter-of-factly, how to prevent pestilence, in the aftermath (result) of the deadly fray (fight, skirmish, battle), it had been deemed necessary to immediately dispose of all the corpses, into the cold, watery grave.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reluctantly concurred with this hardhearted, but sound decision, then solemnly offered his assistance, where warranted.

 

03- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC) OFFERS ASSISTANCE (6)

“Kind of you to proffer (volunteer),” Zunrogo curtly refused his help, saying that the only task remained then, was still too gruesome and taxing, for one with Scholar’s delicate sensibilities and fragile constitution. There was no malice in his tone, just fact, so Fradel let this affront (insult) go.

Fradel was asked instead to, for a little while longer, remain in his cabin, until all the unpleasantness, in other words, all telltale signs of skirmish on deck, had been thoroughly cleared.

Zunrogo had another reason for keeping the meddlesome scholar away from the scene of the battle. He was certain, there were no survivors left above deck, however, perchance there were some, Fradel, with his moral rectitude, would be gallingly adamant for the wounded to be properly (cared for) tended; this contrasting with Zunrogo’s deemed sound judgement of, finishing them off and then swiftly discarding all the corpses into the watery grave, to prevent  any possibility of unforeseen, future complications.

By the time Zunrogo caught up with his Lieutenant, Tzan having already delivered the barely alive Disaidun Agripe to the care of her hysterical husband, at present his mind totally engaged with his work, was in the process of routinely adding weights to the neck and feet of last (group) batch of tied up corpses, before they too, unceremoniously were dumped (discarded) overboard into the river.

 

04- CHURNING WATERS OF THE RIVER

Tzan mopped his forehead off perspiration with the back of his hand then stood back to check and admire his clever workmanship.  Seeing that there was a slight movement, a twitch, a flicker of life, in one of the presumed dead, he quickly lifted the bound (roped, fastened, trussed) bundle and carried it to the railing then tilted it overboard.

 " Enjoy your long, blissful sleep at the bottom of the river." he hissed with venomous sneer, as he watched it sink into oblivion beneath the waves. When he turned, he was startled to find Zunrogo standing right behind him.

"Was that the last of it?" Zunrogo asked Tzan, with an unreadable expression on his face.  Receiving Tzan's nod of affirmation, he grunted cooly. "Good work."  Then he simply turned and walked away. 

“Well, Lance Diostin, despite your invincible prowess, you are now, indisputably dead and gone; and perhaps if you are lucky, your vestige (trace, hint) of brilliant exploits will be written onto the pages of history.” Zunrogo musing, scoffed (derided) then exhaled slowly the long, tense breath, which he’d been unwittingly (unawares) holding.

 

                                                                                     ~

 

Shortly after dusk the deckhands were let out to scrub the gore from the decks and mend those parts of the ship that had suffered in the attack.  For most of the night the crew slaved away not daring to make any suppositions or ask any questions about the day's events.

To a man, however, they were in unison with their intention, to abandon this cursed vessel and vanish into oblivion the very moment they docked at the next port. For they all had their own secret reasons for not wanting to undergo, the inevitably lengthy and grueling investigation and consequently, the impending penalties.

 

                                                                                       ~

 

Subsequent days, while the top deck buzzed with a flurry of activity, silence reigned in the cabins below.

Soon as Zunrogo could get away, he had stolen into his cabin to quietly inspect the letter. Noticing right from the start some oddities about the sheath, his face darkened, and deep frown set in. He did not wish to tamper with it any further, but was convinced nevertheless, that the contents within would most definitely be fake, which meant that the actual letter was in possession of that covert Black Moloch’s agent.

“Is he still on board?” Zunrogo wondered “or had he clear gotten away. “ 

In any case, this setback put him in a real bad mood, which would last several days.

Eventually he did, very carefully, bypassing the deathly traps and poisonous dart, removed the fake inside letter and unfolding it, quickly perused the contents. What he read infuriated him still more, knowing if he had in ignorance delivered the letter to the Prime Minister, it would have brought about his immediate, ignoble (dishonorable, dastardly) death.  In his rage he promptly fed the letter along with its covering to the hungry flames in the brazier.

Later still, Zunrogo keen on discovering the particulars and whereabouts of this presumed Black Moloch spy, his tireless efforts, and astute observances, had eventually revealed to him the presumed identity of the culprit. He’d been one of the crewmen, one called Zack, most probably a pseudo name; what’s more, after the battle, he had mysteriously (gone missing) disappeared without a trace, never to been seen or heard from again. Yet, this had not alarmed anyone, including him?

 

05- CREWMAN ZACK - A BLACK MOLOCK SPY ON BOARD BOAT

Zunrogo now faintly remembered how on the day they’d boarded the vessel, his keen eye had (caught) noted the exceptional physique of this particular crewman; nevertheless, in the aftermath Zunrogo had been so completely taken in by Zack’s assumed ordinary demeanor. This infuriated Zunrogo, subsequently, his ire (indignation), his fiery temper had rained misery on all, especially since Zunrogo, upon further reflecting, became acutely aware of his own (failing) prior oversight, resulting in his sorely missing the certain oddities that should have alerted his senses.

After further thorough search of the vessel and questioning at length the other crewmen and Tzan, Zunrogo’s suspicions were affirmed; that Zack, had not been among the discarded corpses, which meant that, he’d had clear gotten away along with the actual extortion letter! Be that as it may, the vessel charting a ceaseless course in the center of this fast flowing, wide river with barely visible shorelines, however a good swimmer, could Zack still have defied all the odds?

 

 

                                                                                     ~

 

(END OF SECTION 36)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 9

Dokurak most thankful of the fact he had a sympathetic ear, with a secret purpose in mind had ceaselessly unburdened his heart: “Beginning a new life with only a measly pittance I had concealed from the authorities, I first purchased some worthless piece of land and after initializing irrigation, proper crop rotation and a great deal of work, managed to turn my luck around.  Soon the land began to yield a good return, enough at least for me to properly care for my children. “Dokurak, falling silent for a spell, looked down.

“Unfortunately, the former owner who’d sold the land to me for a song now regretted his hasty decision; additionally, most envious of me for the beget bounty (profits), have harbored a personal grudge against me.  That was the precursor of my fresh troubles.” Dokurek pensively shook his head.

"When my eventual pardon arrived, and I was allowed to settle permanently in this region I ignored my neighbor’s envy and animosity and falsely thought that the past had finally been put safely behind me. For a short while things looked promising. My sons, meanwhile, going against my will and ignoring my good counsel, chose not the agrarian (farming, rural) livelihood (occupation), but that of erudite (literate).  Then again, there was a measure of leniency in the law and a few good posts and desirable government positions were once again being made available to promising learnt (scholarly) candidates.    Gradually I relaxed my vigilance and even allowed my heart the joyful pride when one of my sons, Kuer, was promoted to a good position in the Magistrate's office.”

02- KUER

"How was I to know?  How could I phantom that some unscrupulous, grasping officials would, within a decade, instigate yet another onslaught against the Literate?  You see, in their greed, they had come to realize the immense profits that could be reaped from the land and property holdings of the successful intellectuals (scholars).”

"Zakhertan Yozdek, a military man and an autocratic landholder, had, despite his outward policies of leniency, still harbored in the crux of his being a deep contempt for the scholars because of their analytical (logical, critical) way of thinking and their accrued (amassed, retained in mind) vast reservoirs of knowledge of past rulers.  Meanwhile the extensive military campaigns he had waged to secure his throne and Wenjenkun’s borders had nearly depleted the treasury.  The Office of Revenue was already hard pressed to come up with additional sums via (by means of) burdening taxes and forced labor, and besides, extra funds were now needed for the new campaign against Korion.

“It took only a little persuasion and a staged incident by the new Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, to make the literati into scapegoats once more.  Thus, the holdings of these affluent families were laid open for pillage and were sold at auction once the unfortunates had been blamed for the discontent, turmoil and hardships that plagued the country.”

Dokurak suddenly stopped talking and after his long, dubious look at Fradel, his voice tinged with jealousy, he said:

“You have really been most fortunate, Serek Vern (Fradel Rurik Korvald), to have escaped these disasters… these genocides.  I wish that I had been empowered to do the same for my sons.  You see, I had the foresight; right at the beginning of it all, I had read the signs and predicted the outcome. The ill-fate hovering at cusp (verge, edge), over the horizon, had left all too prevalent signs for anyone intelligent or discerning, to be wary.  Foolishly, though, I imagined that my pardon and the quiet, model (exemplary) life I had led, would exempt me and my two sons from all of this impending (looming) catastrophe” Dokurek shook his head then sullenly bit the corner of his lip.

"My second mistake was to place too great a store in my influential friends and the Magistrate that had mentored Kuer.  I could not envision that they, too, would collude with my enemies and turn on me for a share of the gain.  Of that, I am sure.  That oversight, unfortunately, was my gravest mistake and for years I've been eaten alive inside, bit by slow bit, by the burden of regret I've carried in my heart.” Dokuek desisting tears, wrung his hands.

"My heart aches so sorely (agonizingly) whenever I think of my two boys…my poor, innocent boys!  When the disaster fell Kuer had been married two years and, what's more, his beautiful, virtuous wife, Luokil, was carrying my grandson. “

03- KUER AND HIS WIFE LUOKIL

"But alas, my world once more collapsed when Kuer and Ruek were arrested and taken away in chains.  I knew that the charges brought against them were pure fabrication, that there was no solid evidence at all to convict them on, so I immediately dispensed generous sums in bribing the right officials trying to buy justice and extricate my sons from (false) blame. “

04-KUER AND RUEK FALSELY CHARGED 

 “All my efforts were in vain, however, for they wanted it all.  My property was confiscated in the blink of an eye and sold for the state's gain to the very same people who had laid the false charges against us.  I was again, shortly after,  reduced to a beggar's state.”

“Kuer was well liked and had countless influential friends but none; none dared to speak up on his behalf when...” Dokurek, abruptly stopping,  bit hard the corner of his lip; anger and despair registering in his pupils, he looked yet again  in the direction of the large mount, quite oblivious of the trickling blood that slowly made its way down his chin.

"You can't imagine the anguish I felt at seeing my boys, as they were dragged mercilessly down the street in chains, then …. Then… buried alive under that accursed big mound." Dokurek swallowed and pointed.

"But not a whimper escaped their lips.  My heroic sons!  I would have ended my own miserable existence right then and there, but I summoned all my courage to live on, enduring misery and humiliation in order to care for my unborn grandson.” Dokurek swallowed hard, and eyes brimming with tears, he dismally (gloomily) shook his head.

“Alas, as cruel fate is, he and his mother both died in childbirth. She went into labor soon after she had witnessed her husband's murder, you see."  Pointing to the two smaller mounds under the weeping willow tree, adjacent to the big mound, Dokurek lamented in a choked voice, "They lie there, close to my son Kuer and Ruek.  I cared for their graves all this time and offered continuous prayers for their comfortable existence in the afterlife.  Now I'm old, too old and too feeble to be of much use to anyone.  I would have joined them long ago, but I have not a soul to count on to bury these old bones and I have nothing left to barter with."  He buried his head in his hands.

"Oh, all those years, how could I have been so foolish? How could I have been so utterly beguiled?” He lamented. “It’s taken me a lifetime to see the error of my ways.  My eyes are finally opened. But what good is all that now? If only I’d listened to my younger brother’s words for, he was right all along, right about a lot of things.  I’m filled with endless remorse that eats at my soul?”

“Still Heaven, it seems, has at long last taken pity on me."  Dokurek abruptly looked up, smiling wryly and, with the back of his hand, wiped away the deluge of tears that soaked his pallid cheeks and neck.

 "For here you are … Good sir, can I impose on you, can I rely on your compassion and good graces to perhaps trouble you, to do me this one last great favor?"

Fradel was nonplused by Dokurek's imploring gaze and, understanding his meaning, frowned.  "I shall not be party to your murder sir.  Surely you have many long years still ahead.  Do not despair.  You have persevered this long, undergone so much; perhaps an emancipated future..."

Before Fradel could finish the old man had flashed a blade he had concealed deep within the folds of his rags.  With a swiftness that belied his age, giving Fradel no chance to move, Dokurek buried the knife hilt-deep into his chest. But missing his heart just barely, he lived long enough to still implore Serek (Fradel).

"I do not deserve your kindness, sir. Ugg…. Still, I know you will not disappoint me.  Far too long have I endured this loneliness, burdensome guilt and unbearable heartache?  I make no excuses now and accept full blame for my past miserable life choices. Having paid some penance; let me embrace fate and join them now.  Please, pray that we all find peace in the… afterlife." He gasped his last breath and, (blood oozing from his mouth,) was no more.

Fradel had done the right thing by Dokurek and, although he had buried the old man's body in a mound next to his grandson and daughter-in-law under the same willow, all rites duly carried out, he still carried away with him the pain of Dokurek’s misspent life.

 

                                                                                    ~

Fradel was from then on burdened with a series of fresh concerns.  The guilt ate at him to the crux of his heart: guilt for being spared, for having led a privileged life of ignorance while so many had perished.  Fradel now pondered: Had he (Fradel) the right to do what he planned?  Wouldn't his intended actions unleash yet another bout of purges resulting in blood baths and fresh persecution of the Literati? 

This was at the root of Fradel's dilemma as he rode away from the graves beside the ruined hut.

Fradel, tersely now, as if with a special understanding, nodded.  Yes, things being the way they are, whatever I do will have little bearing.  The outcome would invariably be the same.  So long as evil reigns (rule) supreme and corruption festers like locusts on this land, salvation will be a distant dream for everyone.

 

                                                                                         

(END OF SECTION 9)

                                                                                              ~