LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 13

Zaur Stugr remained pensively silent for a time; moreover, there was a marked skepticism in his narrowed, hard eyes that showed he was hitherto unconvinced.

01 A ZAUR STUGR JP (5)

Deizvor had been deemed until then, a mastermind linguist of the known world’s vernacular, and had furthermore, excelled in deciphering the most remote and varied indigenous groups’ sign-languages. This strange dialect which confounded (mystified) him, had to have been a most recent, ingeniously devised means of communication; if so, this warranted a prompt, in-depth (thorough) investigation into this matter. Kozurs’ linguistic team, soon put to the task, must decipher (decode) and then pass it on to their most trusted agents in Korion (and other foreign lands), before the predictable consequences could be amplified.

Zaur nevertheless curtailing his impatience sternly motioned for Deizvor to carry on with his report.

"Despite my exasperation I was reluctant to leave and stood my ground so as to note their every action.  At one point they received what looked to be a set of written instructions from him, one can only presume that it was, directive for their next assignment.  Unfortunately, after reading the contents and nodding their acceptance, they tore it in half and consumed it.  Then, at the apparent conclusion of their business, the contact thrust a money pouch (for future expenditures) into Hugen’s hand and summarily took his leave.  I debated, of course, whether to pursue this newcomer or to persist with the surveillance on those two birds (spies) who had their heads together and looked to be hatching more plots.  Also, I wanted to see where they would finally end up and if need be, arrange to have a backup to continue on with the shadowing, while I promptly returned to relay my report. "

"And this was done?"

"Yes, sir," Deizvor hastily imparted their present whereabouts.  "Even though their contact could not be traced, we had these two fully covered, sir.  They ‘ll be dogged wherever they go from now on."

Zaur looked down to hide the anger in his eyes.  “Fool!  They’d already found you out… They were playing you.”

“What a waste. You should have gone for reinforcements the moment they made contact and apprehended all three.”  But then, Zaur did not encourage that kind of initiative.  Deizvor, after all, had done exactly as he’d supposed to.

"When they switched back to Korionese what they said took me by complete surprise." Catching Deizvor ' excitement, Zaur Stugr looked up.

02- DEISVOR

Deizvor was shaking his head and had begun to whisper in a barely audible voice, "Now I know for certain the identity of the assassin.  The Kontu emissaries were grievously wronged.  It was all a diabolical deception concocted by no less than KeTizan, Chief Minister of our formerly trustworthy ally, Xexos."

"Xexos is it then?"  Zaur exclaimed in an incredulous voice, frowning; he was fast losing his patience. “It’s a pity your presence was detected.”  Relations between the subjugated Korion and Wenjenkun's catspaw, Xexos, had always been strained.  Zaur had already deduced that Korion was behind the plot and the lengths to which their spies went to feed the patently false information about Xexos only strengthened his suspicion.

"Yes, sir, Xexos …  They were behind it all.  Who would have thought it?  Nevertheless, we now have sure confirmation of that fact."  Deizvor checking his rising doubt, nevertheless, went on to repeat, word for word, the ingeniously implanted evidence the spies had fed him.  "These Korion spies, I later learned through discreet investigation of the sources they alluded to in their conversation, were part of an independent body of observers and couriers.  Wizened to the plot against Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek, they had been sent on to obtain a firsthand report of the developments in our country."

“At best it is more likely that they were sent here to get an independent view of the actions taken by Korion's emissaries and relay it back to their King without delay.  In the worst-case scenario, they probably had orders to assassinate those same emissaries should things go awry.” Zaur Stugr inwardly scoffed.  “Xexos, indeed…  As if we would be so gullible; so easily be duped into fighting their border wars for them.  Would they never learn?”  Zaur continued to listen with remarkable restraint to Deizvor s' specifics about the supposed conspiracy, mildly amused at times, by the tale they’d spun.  Once Deizvor had finished Zaur promptly dismissed him without comment and had just finished preparing for a return to his office when the arrival of a special courier was announced.

This night had been particularly long, too long.  Zaur’s temples throbbed, and he rubbed them absentmindedly to relieve the pressure building up then looked up to acquiesce sternly, "All right, bring him in."

The courier was briskly ushered in.  He advanced smartly all the way in, to abrupt halt before the desk.  He bowed respectfully then, reaching into his inner pocket, withdrew an envelope which he presented to Zaur.

Zaur Stugr briefly examined the familiar seal for tampering and smiled.  It was from one of his best recruits.  "How is he?" he asked the courier, studying the man's reaction from the top of his downcast eyes.

"He anticipated your question, sir, and bade me to tell you that he is faring handsomely, having made great strides.  He hopes to furnish you with more proof in the coming days that is if his proposal goes through smoothly, without undue hindrance from the one he said you would know."

Zaur Stugr appeared pleased with this cryptic message and, with a closed smile, relayed an equally esoteric (arcane) reply of his own before he dismissed the courier.  When he was sure he was alone he broke open the seal, took out the letter from its covering (envelope) and unfolding it, avidly devoured its contents.

“Confound it!”  The smile of a moment ago quickly turned into a frown.  His hunches, it seemed, had been right on.  Zaur had hoped that, for the first time, he might have been proven wrong, but the letter had only confirmed his suspicions.  With a furrowed brow, Zaur Stugr took his angry stare away from the page.

This is quite serious, indeed.  He shook his head.  Why, in all this time, with all the spies they had planted in that region, why hadn’t one of them detected anything till now?  How could such a competent group simply miss out on an event of this magnitude?  This was not something that happened overnight.  An army was being raised, for Heaven's sake!  How could such a thing remain undetected, furthermore, so completely hidden for that length of time?

Zaur Stugr had absolute confidence in his men; he knew they could not be bought, threatened, or coaxed into shirking their duty.  This meant that at some prior point this group’s cover had been blown and, besides being kept in the dark, they too had methodically been fed misinformation.  Infuriated by this temporary setback, Zaur wearily leaned his back into the plush chair and closed his eyes in deep contemplation; after a spell, his attention back on the letter, he picked it up and perused (more meticulously) every minutest detail, seeking to uncover well disguised, subtle nuances. Zaur’s elation was short lived, and his expression grew even more solemn as he reflected on the specific, supposed happenstances of the last six months. The letter had affirmed his suspicions of Korion’s ultimate hidden agenda (objective) with its long-term implications.  In the months to come, Wenjenkun would become inexorably drawn into deepening conflict with Kontu with ever widening consequences.  Korion would do its best to see to that.

“All right.” in the end he nodded self-consciously as he committed the letter to the embers of an incense burner kept close by for just such a purpose.  “I can't just deal with this matter on my own, not when the nation's security is in jeopardy. I must find a subtle, an ingenious way to broach the subject and inform Lamont Gudaren of this dangerous development.”

Leaning back, he again closed his eyes and pondered on the concern: whether Wenjenkun would withstand a lengthy and costly war of attrition with an equally determined and decidedly warlike state such as Kontu. Moreover, Kontu had access to ample rich resources in the well fortified northern islands and was now bent on extending its horizons onto the main body of the continent.

03-DENG HEDENKO (27)

Zaur was all too familiar with the unsurpassed tactics of Hedenko's past conquests: his brilliantly executed strategies, his diplomatic manoeuvrings, and his ingenious offensive campaigns.  Zaur had kept himself apprised of Kontu's recent status of an emerging imperial nation, and the fact that its economic power and military prowess, in a short while would reach its zenith. Their political stability was another consideration in comparison to Wenjenkun. Emperor Deng Hedenko was a competent, strong, and quite ruthless leader, much like Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek.  Once a rapacious ruler sets his sights on a verdant objective, he would be virtually unstoppable.  It was a foregone conclusion that any targeted nation would be swallowed into the raging forge of their conquered domains or wiped entirely from the very face of History.

Zaur could not, of course, underestimate Wenjenkun's resilience and equally predatory Zakhertan Yozdek’s resourcefulness; but the Nation (State) and the Imperial family’s interests at present had detrimental rifts. To boot, there were strong factions entrenched in the core government, who would seize this golden opportunity to make a short-sighted deal with the new devil to attain (gain) more power. 

What concerned Zaur most, however, was the superiority of Kontu's armaments, the recent technological advances they had made in metallurgy and weaponry.

Rising to his feet, with his hands clasped behind him, Zaur Stugr paced the room then, wheeling about suddenly and with bold strides marched right out the door. 

Perched on the roof Nevetsecnuac, had eyed Zaur's obvious inner turmoil, with perplexity.  Noting the fact that the first light of the new day would be upon them soon, he abandoned the idea of following Zaur from his offices and instead headed directly back to his own sleeping quarters.

                                                                        ~

 

Zaur Stugr’s speculations about Hugen and Uyuk meanwhile had been right on the mark (dead right).  Having discerned earlier on, the presence of the eavesdropper, the two spies had safeguarded their actions and deliberately imparted misinformation to throw the snoop Deizvor entirely off course.  Moreover, both being masters of disguise and possessing superb stamina and martial prowess, they had also successfully shaken off their latent ardent pursuers and were now headed, unencumbered, once more in the direction of Korion.

Despite an intense countrified alert for the two spies, Hugen and Uyuk had eluded capture simply by journeying in the broad daylight and passing through endless checkpoints perfectly disguised as a merchant couple (as man and wife).  But the disguise carried its own drawbacks as, more times than Uyuk cared to remember, he had been hit upon (sexually manhandled) by the licentious guards. It took great restraint on his part not to pulverize these offending sentries; they were instead mollified, by dispensing bribes along with the hint of future compliance. 

Then came a period when, in the interest of making good time, they had opted for the shortcut routes of Hugen’s choosing and traversed through isolated, especially rough and perilous terrain; where which they had more than once, encountered, not only wild, carnivores’ beasts but also marauding bandits who had them pegged for an easy prey.  After locking horns with these two undercover agents the bandits, however, were the ones who were disarmed, disgraced, and then robbed of what little valuables they carried.  The bested and badly wounded brigands scurried off in fear of their lives like the rats they were, tail tugged between their hind-legs, morbidly ashamed to ever recount of the encounter.

04- HUGEN (45)jp

Being adept at surviving under the harshest conditions, Hugen deemed (considered) all these arduous, hair-raising experiences as trifling adventures.  For him the journey was a breeze, it was going off without a hitch and through it all he hummed a tune of some song.

Uyuk, on the other hand, held a much different opinion. His strong constitution weathered the hardships with ease all right, but these were seen by him as an unnecessary imposition.  He was a pragmatist and valued his comfort whenever he could get it; hence, he increasingly became resentful of Hugen’s obstinate eccentricities.   

 

(END OF SECTION 13)                                            

 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 34

It had been quite a row, a real humdinger of a fight, all right!  He couldn't have been much more than nine or ten, but Tizan was well enough developed for his age to, at long last, hold his own against that brute.  “He had rebelled soon enough, though, hadn't he?”

From the age of seven he had relentlessly fought back each time his stepfather had taken to drink and viciously turned on him. Had his father not died or that his mother did not re-marry, he had always wondered, perhaps things might have been different. 

Tzan had suffered greatly; as far back as he could remember, all through his childhood in fact, with many beatings, constant verbal abuse and endless torment at the hands of his stepfather Zianko. (First mentioned in Book 1 - Fisherman’s Prize- Section 3)

 

01-  ZIANKO

No man could be more vicious to a child.   The vile brute Zianko was a heartless, greedy, selfish dog! Then came the day on which Tzan’d been an eyewitness to Zianko’s murdering his mother. Perhaps the only time she’d stood up to him, fighting desperately to uphold her son’s right to inherit her former husband’s estate. But no one took any notice of Tizan’s claims or accusations, for Zianko had already arranged to make it look like a perfect, irrefutable accident. Shortly after, Tizan had suddenly fallen deadly ill, and very nearly died, but he had recovered, in time to learn, that his stepfather Zianko had been cleared of all charges. Meanwhile secretly from then on, the brute had conspired to murder him (Tizan) before he reached the age of twelve.

On that night, two months before he was to turn twelve, their brawling had reached a peak when that beast Zianko, unable to gain advantage with his hands alone, had taken up an oar and struck a hard, brutal blow at Tizan’s temple, knocking him out cold.  When Tizan regained consciousness in small hours of the night, he'd at once secretly taken off, preferring the unknown dangers of the mountainous forest to certain, slow death at his stepfather Zianko’s hands. Just before he left, he, looking back on the fishing village, had inwardly vowed to someday kill Zianko if he ever came across him again.

 

                                                                                  ~

 

Tizan now looked back out at the spot where the boat had been short time before, his eye catching the first of the mangled wreckage bob up to the surface.  For a moment he imagined that it was his stepfather’s boat and each of the bodies it took to the bottom with it was Zianko, killed repeatedly.  The image gave him little satisfaction, but it was the best he could muster at present. Even after many years of intense loathing, same seething, all-consuming abhorrence of Zianko still coursed through his veins.

“Odd that I'd remember Zianko now,” Tizan turned his attention back to the pitched battle still raging between captain Zunrogo Tugo and Lance Diostin.

“Devils take me!  How could I have frittered away (waste) all that time, with just reminiscing… where’s my good sense?”  His guts were gnawed by self-reproach. 

 

02--TZAN JP

In truth, the squandered time had only been no more than a heartbeat.

Snatching a sword from the nearest corpse and carving a deliberate course, Tizan rushed into the fray, wanting to fight alongside Zunrogo; but the dizzying and intense speed (never once dwindling), skill and agility with which Zunrogo and Lance Diostin fought, interlocked as they were in that kind of a continuous, sound combat, did not afford Tizan least opportunity (opening) to intercede.

Unrelenting, Tizan kept mental notes on Lance Diostin’s unique fighting style and any potential weakness in his offensives as he combatted other foes; all the while, he sought an opportunity to intervene with a well-placed strike at Lance Diostin.

He gradually lost heart when he observed how flawlessly Lance executed his offensives without giving up an inch of his defensive position.  Lance had no failings of any kind.  Though captain Zunrogo was the most competent fighter Tizan had known, Zunrogo was dwarfed in martial skills by his invincible opponent and even was forced into maintaining only a defensive course for much of the time.

Tizan, meanwhile, had soon run out of opponents to fight, and he stood looking about, surrounded by heaps of corpses, for least sign of life for which to extinguish. Disappointed he turned his attention back to the only ongoing action (contesting duo).

“Strange,” Tizan mused, observing how there’d been few instances during which a flaw in Zunrogo's defenses had left an opening, a perfect opportunity for a strike, yet his opponent Lance Diostin had ignored these obvious advantages.

“Oh, he’s so shrewd; adroit that he is, is he just toying with the captain?”

 Tizan inwardly questioned Lance Diostin’s motive, while at the same time with a sinking feeling, grew (became) skeptical of Zunrogo’s ability for the first time ever.  “He’s not invincible after all, is this the mentor I've sworn an unconditional allegiance to?”

Before he could follow up on his doleful, glum (gloomy, woeful) thoughts, the rarest opportunity just then had presented itself.  Lance had for a split second let his guard down, allowing slight vulnerability in his rear.  Fearlessly, Tizan jumped into the fray, recklessly not giving his brain (his senses) apt time to grasp (comprehend, gather) that Lance Diostin might have deliberately and with specific design, slackened off just enough to afford him (Tizan) this rare chance.

"The more the merrier!" warding off both sets of blows, Lance Diostin threw his head back and laughed; he then set to with equal equanimity and deadly precision, simultaneously attacking both Zunrogo and Tizan. 

"For a moment there, I thought that you would turn tail and run, Lieutenant.  Now, at least, I have a more even match.  I wouldn't want to be accused of taking unfair advantage of Captain Zunrogo here.  Oh, let me thank you, sir, for your invaluable service in ridding me of that excess baggage back there…. ha, ha!"

Lance talked and fought with equal ease; meanwhile, Lance Diostin’s fluid, swift maneuvers strained both his opponents’ defensives, their ability to the brink and, at the same time, restricted their corresponding strikes. By all accounts, Lance Diostin wasn't even trying all that hard.

 

03-LANCE DIOSTIN JP 12

Bristling at his arrogance, both Zunrogo and Tizan intensified their efforts and succeeded in, for an instant, turning the battle to the offensive.  Yet, despite their perfectly orchestrated, deadly onslaught, they still could not weaken or best Lance Diostin.

Lance Diostin’s amusement faltered after a while and he picked up momentum, wielding his sword with lightning speed and deadly effect.  He redoubled his offensive strikes with unyielding power, strength and unsurpassed cunning and agility, striking at places where there seemed to be no opening, piercing defenses that appeared flawless.  This intense, pitched fighting continued for a short spell though for Zunrogo and Tizan it seemed to be an eternity.

The two, finding themselves in dire straits, fought on with all their might but were unable to keep their adversary at bay.  They were hanging on only by the skin of their teeth.  Then, while fending off a deadly thrust by Zunrogo, Lance Diostin swiftly twirled and landed a good, swift kick squarely on Tizan's chest.  It was fortunate that Tizan had not discarded his armor, otherwise his ribs, which took the brunt of this attack, would have been instantly pulverized.  Still, the force of the blow was enough to hurl him right across the deck and into the mast, where he slumped down, unconscious.  Tizan was still not out of danger, for Lance had raced to follow his flying body and was at the point of decapitating his helpless form in the next heartbeat.

Zunrogo, putting on an all-out effort, had leapt over to the mast and, in the nick of time, intervened with deadly force to block Lance Diostin’s strike.

 Taking a stance between Lance and the Lieutenant Tzan, Zunrogo hurled curses, dares and taunting assaults while strategically retreating, (to lure) to draw Lance Diostin away from Tizan towards an un-sprung trap further down the deck.  This, Zunrogo perceived, would be his best hope of besting his nemesis.

However, it proved ineffectual.  Lance Diostin was too insightful, too clever to be caught unawares by the deadly snare.  In fact, with an agile maneuver, Lance forced Zunrogo to spring the trap.  Zunrogo escaped, only with a hairsbreadth, as the hurtling blade flew past the side of his neck to land in the river.  Zunrogo had trained himself to never ever consider defeat during a battle and so, he continued to fight in a desperate all-out struggle.

Lance Diostin clearly could have annihilated the captain at any time but, again, he slackened off on his assaults, clearly deriving a particular pleasure from toying with his eventual victim.  "Well, my friend", Lance hissed, "I must thank you for affording me this wonderful practice session.  It is only rarely that I get to use my full skills these days.  You see, once I reach my full potential (ability), my opponents invariably end up dead and, of course, it would be unwise of me to leave any witnesses to circulate reports of my true skill.  Good sparring partners are hard to find, you know.  So, you, sir, may go to your death knowing that your worthless life has, indeed, served some small purpose.”

Zunrogo realized too late how he had been led to mortally (fatally) underestimating Lance Diostin's true prowess.  Had he but known, he could have deployed more powerful reinforcements, adopted more effective means, engaged in diversionary tactics, or considered retreat, to just live to fight another day.

 

04- ZUNROGO AND lANCE DIOSTIN CLOSE COMBAT

As it stood, he was failing miserably.  He knew he had only himself to blame for this grave oversight.  He had been well versed in military strategy and should have perceived the possibility of this deception by Lance Diostin and taken measures to guard against it.  Lance Diostin’s adaptation of the age-old ruse had been flawless and Zunrogo, like the many others who preceded him, had been properly duped, lulled into a false sense of security right up to the very end before being totally, and irrevocably vanquished.

There was no time for self-reproach or remorse.  Just as Zunrogo was about to modify his strategy to one of escape at any cost, Lance launched a whirlwind assault that instantly incapacitated him.  He could feel the world going black as he fought to strike back.

Grinning cruelly, Lance Diostin lifted his magnificent sword high above his head, setting up the one powerful, lightning stroke that would slice through Zunrogo's neck like a harpoon through a jellyfish.  He let go of the stroke, the sword arched through the air in firm descending course, backing it up with all his force.

The blade’s course midway was stopped cold however, never reaching Zunrogo's neck as if it had hit a solid rock; furthermore, the shock wave traveled back up the sword and through Lance Diostin’s whole body.

"What the hell?" glowering, Lance Diostin jumped back and turned to assess the opponent still brandishing the sword that had blocked his fierce, deadly aim (blow).

                                                                                           ~

 

 (END OF SECTION 34)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 1

 Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac), relentlessly pursuing Mouro Kerr, ascended several flights of stairs that led upwards to the open air.  As he took the next sharp turn, however, he found himself face to face with Zonar Kuntzu, grasping in his left hand, suspended by the hair, the ghastly severed head of Mouro, dripping its blood onto the corpse at his feet.

"I abhor debauched officials, but, even more, I despise devious cowards." Zonar grunted, glowering at Mouro's head before he hurled it into the distance with disdain.

His fiery eyes next riveted on Fradel.  "Our meeting was not ordained for this night," he spoke sternly then, turning his back on Fradel, walked away.

01- ZONAR KUNTZU

 At that instant, however, Fradel leaped into the air and flipped over Zonar's head to land right before him and block his way.

 Zonar, taken aback slightly, knit his brows, "Are you courting death, sir?" He should actually had called him nephew… but not yet!  Zonar ruminated (brooded, pouted).

Fradel, bowing in respect, begged the warrior's indulgence and asked for Zonar's full name so that he may offer his proper thanks to his benefactor who had, not once but twice, rendered him a valuable service.

Zonar grimaced wryly, "You are too polite sir.  Thanks, are neither warranted nor necessary, since I am only reciprocating a kind turn rendered to me once."

He was about to walk away again when Fradel more persistently barred his way, requesting an introduction and a proper surname.

Checking his annoyance, Zonar glowed.  "And you, sir, are you in turn willing to oblige me by disclosing your true (legitimate) identity?" he asked with icy cynicism.

Taken aback slightly, Nevetsecnuac burrowed his questioning eyes on Zonar.  He hesitated, not wishing to insult (affront) this formidable warrior's intelligence by insisting that he was, indeed, the scholarly poet Fradel Rurik Korvald, yet still consumed with a desire to learn just how much Zonar knew or suspected.

02- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC)

"I thought not," Zonar interrupted the suspenseful air.  "To each his own, then,” as he turned his back once more, he added in a thundering voice, "but I thank you for your courtesy; denial at this point would only have incurred my ire.”

Nevetsecnuac had, just then, detected a familiar, slight accent in Zonar's dialect, one not unlike that of the assassin Duan. Quite intrigued, Nevetsecnuac remained ever more reluctant to let Zonar go; feet firmly planted on ground, he stubbornly blocked Zonar’s path as his mind pondered.

 “It has to be more than paranoia, more than a mere fluke that our paths have crossed with such frequency; but what importance does these coincidences entail?”

Nevetsecnuac had first encountered Zonar innocently enough at Aguda and Yagu's Inn but, since then, the strong sense (intuition) of being persistently stalked had both intrigued and troubled him. Possessing incredible prowess, Zonar had appeared and disappeared without a trace at will; in Yenis Luko's room at Kuno Temple, then again at the trial, where he disappeared dramatically in the midst of a crowd after issuing his threat to Micen Do, and his sudden appearance again here. This could not all be mere coincidences; therefore, what was it Zonar really after?  And since Nevetsecnuac could not ascertain the precise timing of Zonar's (appearance) materialization at this last locale, he abstained from theorizing why Zonar had not joined in the fray (combat) earlier on, either for or against him. Zonar’s poignant reference to their impending future meeting, on the other hand, merited probing. With Heng Erling’s treachery still fresh in mind, Nevetsecnuac (forgoing all the conjecture,) glued his gaze on Zonar but this time with a look of askance, wishing to engage him in friendly dialogue, regardless of the consequences.

“Are you done, probing?” Zonar was briefly amused.

"Your persistence, however, is getting rather tiresome." Zonar stared down at Nevetsecnuac. “Unfortunately, I am pressed for time and furthermore, I have no wish to engage in dialogue or fight (test) with you at this point in time. “ Zonar was about to snap his fingers and simply disappear, but then on second thought, he stayed long enough to add: “ I would think that your mind would be beset with more pressing concerns, such as, the whereabouts of Fradel Rurik Korvald's real identity papers. For without them, how could you gain entry to the Capital to ultimately fulfill your destiny?"

 Noting Nevetsecnuac's slight start at the emphasis on the word 'real' he threw his head back and laughed raucously…Then, before Nevetsecnuac could respond, "Oh, here."

 In a flash Zonar produced the envelope from an inner pocket and thrust it into Nevetsecnuac's hand.

03- ZONAR KUNTZU

 "No need to thank me for them, either." he shrugged.  "They were of no use to me, anyway."

Seeing that they were, indeed, the originals and not the forgeries Mouro had spoken of, Nevetsecnuac's heart filled with gratitude, and he looked up at once to thank Zonar and to question him about it.

 He was nowhere to be seen.  Quite mysteriously once more, Zonar had disappeared without a trace into thin air, with not even the slightest sound to alert Nevetsecnuac's keen senses.  Frowning, Nevetsecnuac strained his eyes and scanned the area.

"Don't fret, we'll be meeting again soon enough." the thunderous voice shook the skies, and the subsequent roaring laughter trailed off into the distance.

Nevetsecnuac's entreaties for him to halt, his dares to manifest himself fell on deaf ears so, eventually, he gave up trying and returned to the matters at hand.  Nevetsecnuac clad in more appropriate (armor) travelling attire, first secured Hecun's sword, this along with his scholar's vestments and identity papers in a bundle, Nevetsecnuac fastened them all onto the harness of Mouro's charger (strong cavalry horse). He gave a proper burial to Doctor Sullen and the others then vaulting the mare resumed his journey to the Capital.

                                                                               ~

In the ensuing days and nights, Nevetsecnuac could not shake the feeling of being monitored (watched) by an unseen entity; for intuitively, despite the seeming absence of form, he certainly sensed unearthly presence at every turn. It was like that of Zonar’s aura, a force, and yet not quite the same… This presence was, inured, (callous, desensitized) yet same time more deadly and, it definitely was in pursuit of something or someone, other than him. Nevetsecnuac was just a conduit (channel, means); the phantom hunter (tracker) had intangibly stalked him to attain real prey (target). Nevetsecnuac did not know it, but he had instinctively detected the unseen presence of an immortal, one called Dwengzur; who had been assigned to hunt down and destroy the renegade Immortal before he reached his full potential.

04- NEVETSECNUAC BEING MONITORED BY UNSEEN DWENGZUR

A scant scent of target had led Dwengzur to that spot where the previous battle had taken place. Nevetsecnuac, a sole survivor emerging from the scene, warranted attention and therefore had been pursued; but when the mark (trace, hint), whatever was attached to this mortal had proven false, then one day Nevetsecnuac’s keen sensation of been persistently monitored, had abruptly cessed (terminated, ended).

                                                                                   ~

Several days later, however, the sensation of being observed by an unknown force had again returned, though, this one was not hostile.  Nevertheless, Nevetsecnuac was bit peeved (annoyed, ticked off), that he’d been persistently for some unknown reason was being monitored and audaciously, subtly tested; and so, once after a long, tiring ride, when he halted for respite at the edge of a thick forest, near a flowing creak, he’d shouted his dare into the air:

“If you are fair, face me true, or, try another, more (effective) potent tactic.”

Subsequently, as he waited for a response, (with his senses on high alert,) he’d perfunctorily laid down his bedding under an ancient tree and, after starting a small campfire, his eyes pensively watched the steed graze on the lush grass, then quietly sat down to, for his sustenance, roast the already cleaned and gutted small game (rabbit)  he’d snared earlier on.  

His hunger satiated, after a bout (spell) of reflection, for disappointingly nothing untoward had happening (manifesting): “Oh well,” shrugging his shoulders, Nevetsecnuac briefly looked up at the cloudless sky overhead, which was blanketed with stars that winked incessantly, then donning a knowing, broad smile, he reclined and closed his eyes in sleep.

Suddenly, as if in answer to his earlier challenge, an arrow pierced the air and, finding its mark, got buried deep into the log where Nevetsecnuac had used as his pillow, its shaft barely grazing the tip of his nose.

"You are back; but surely you can do better!" Nevetsecnuac, unperturbed, chortled and, pulling out the arrow, with ease, tossed it aside.

"Don't provoke me, for I can ground your bones to dust with but a single blow."

A terrifying voice boomed (roared) out of the darkness.

"You're welcome to try." Nevetsecnuac masking his inner elation (excitement), with a wry grin goaded presumed Zonar further, eyes still (closed) shut tight.

In a bolder move yet, Nevetsecnuac simply shifted his body to get more comfortable and then yawning, plaintively mumbled.  "I’ve had a long day’s ride but pray do your worst for; as yet, you have shown me nothing of your vaunted might?"

The dare had barely left his lips when, with a deafening, crackling sound, the ancient tree sheltering Nevetsecnuac split right down the middle into two perfect halves. If not for a nimble jump to safety, Nevetsecnuac would have been pulverized under the enormous trunk as it came crashing (in big chunks) to the ground. His mare, as luck would have it, was tethered to another tree opposite and so had escaped the danger.

"How unreasonable, this tree had existed for thousands of years yet perished in a flash." Nevetsecnuac shook his head disapprovingly as he viewed the damage.  "Such is the vanity of man."

05- NEVETSECNUAC DISSAPPOINTED

"You dare mock me?"  Zonar's thundering voice, though he remained invisible still, quaked the ground under Nevetsecnuac's feet, suddenly splitting it wide open, with dislodged soil and rock subsequently plunging (plummeting) into a deep chasm (gorge).

Nevetsecnuac had escaped this catastrophe by nimbly, in the nick of time, jumping to one side of the precipice.  After which, still clinging onto the exposed roots at the edge, he’d hauled himself up to safety. He nonchalantly dusted off his clothes while inwardly marveling at the other's incredible powers.

Unperturbed, he shouted out defiantly, “You had best resign (quit) tonight, for I refuse to oblige your whims any longer.  Sleep is what awaits me now."  This said, he picked out another suitable ground under another ancient tree and reclined his head. Nothing much happened that evening and he slept soundly till dawn.

 

(END OF SECTION 1)                                                                                           ~