11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 26

 On the evening of the day that Qarzten Caimund and Lenny Sukzor had both at dawn departed from Channing, Minister of Ceremony Zaur Stugr conducting business as usual in his secret offices, had next received Kozur affiliate (member) Qunen Yummer.

01- QUNEN YUMMER (1)JP2

As Zaur had listened with due patience to Qunen’s lengthy report, in his mind's eye Zaur could not help but envision all the committed, ghastly, disturbing acts/atrocities at the hand of that blood thirsty Egil Viggoaries.

Zaur was both relieved and quietly intrigued to hear next, however, when at dawn of this very day the Dark Eunuch had again gone down to the subterranean dungeons to further torment Nijel Pinng but had instead, discovered her lifeless, headless body.

Deprived of this pleasure, Egil Viggoaries’s subsequent reaction had been fierce. Imagining the mayhem, Zaur could not hide the manifest slight grin on his lips; though, he continued to listen with an unreadable stone expression and learned how as consequence, all Hell had broken loose, quietly of course, within the ranks of the Black Molochs.  

Zaur, thinking back on the pre-dawn’s (daybreak’s) minutes now quietly contemplated, “Soon as he had woken up this morning, he had sensed something grave in the air!

Zaur Stugr, briefly and pensively looked away, before pinning his gaze back on Qunen Yummer who, incessantly (nonstop) stated the subsequent succinct details of his report.

Now, admittedly, this was the most charitable course for Nijel Pinng; but who had dared, more specifically, who had accomplished such an impossible feat?   Zaur inwardly queried; he knew that security had always been rigorous in that segment of subterranean dungeons and that it had always been impenetrable for any unsanctioned breach (gap, entry).

Zaur Stugr, again, while landing a half ear to the report, cogitated:  A while back Kozur elite force had tried but in vain, to rescue one of their valued secret agents from the clutches of that despised, dastardly Eunuch. Sadly, the mole (infiltrator) in the end had died stoically, without giving Egil Viggoaries what he was after (wanted).  

Zaur’s attention abruptly just then reverted to Qunen, when he heard him say, “Forgive me Chief for my omitting lone factor prior, as I could not decide whether or not it held any significance…"     

Qunen Yummer had then momentarily paused to receive an affirmative nod from Zaur, before resuming, his voice lowered only by a fraction. "After Minister Lenny Sukzor’s undoubtedly grueling meeting at small hours with Egil Viggoaries, and subsequently, at dawn this morning, before his prompt departure from the Capital that is, I had covertly observed for a spell a rather unexpected and odd reaction of his…This had happened you see when Lenny Sukzor was alone with me in his study, overseeing some last-minute details." 

02- ZAUR STUGR JP 11

  

"What kind of reaction?" Zaur Stugr impatiently cutting Qunen off with a sharp gesture of his hand, curtly asked.  

"Well, sir, when one of the crystal figurines, the one Her Ladyship had presented him with on his last birthday, in his haste was bumped onto the floor from the mantelpiece, Lenny bent over to pick up the decapitated head, not the body; and I caught just then the strange gleam (twinkle) in his eyes. I knew that figurine held special sentimental value to him, yet at that moment his expression showed no remorse for his carelessness, only relief. His eyes (focus) meanwhile had stayed glued to it for a spell. He unmistakably was thinking of something else.”    

"Are you suggesting that perhaps it was he who intervened?" Zaur Stugr tad regaled (amused), eyed Qunen Yummer quizzically. “What an intriguing concept!”    

Qunen Yummer’s face flushed (reddened) feeling for a spell rather foolish; but then with a lowered gaze pondered the question carefully before answering, “No!" and then shook his head with definite conviction in the end. "He would not dare; however, he could be in some ways indirectly involved, sir."    

“Highly unlikely,” Zaur Stugr nevertheless on the outset nodding, mused. “No. Lenny Sukzor would not undertake such callous risk (action). He had too much at stake. He certainly would not jeopardize it all over an insignificant being (spy).”    

Since Qunen Yummer had again stopped, Zaur signaled for him to continue with the rest of his report. Whilst Zaur Stugr listened on, he pondered on Lenny's sudden departure under these mysterious circumstances, anticipating that it had a far-reaching political significance. The fact that he was headed in the opposite direction from Qarzten Caimund after their private conference last night, carried intriguing inference (connotation) and it made it worth looking into it, a bit more extensively.  Just the same, Zaur had already assigned two of his best agents to tail Lenny and send reports back on his activities; while he waited for the results, Zaur would utilize few other avenues to uncover Lenny's true/actual (objective) mission.   

Sometime later, armed with his new instructions Qunen Yummer, had left Minister Zaur Stugr’s offices, and blending into the shadows under the starless night, swiftly made his way back to Lenny Sukzor’s mansion.   

    

                                                                          ~    

 

Burning the midnight oil that same night, Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek was overseeing four other grievous matters that needed his immediate attention. He had worked tirelessly most of the night, desisting going to bed, for of late the moment he’d laid down his head on the pillow his mind at once raced with day’s pesky unfinished tasks, as there was so much one could fit in a day’s agenda; and if he was fortunate enough to catch forty winks, without fail his sleep would then be assailed by incessant, grotesque nightmares.  

Though Zakhertan Yozdek would never outwardly admit it, he had already missed the invaluable company of Qarzten Caimund and their rather intense, exhilarating, sometimes philosophical, but always highly cerebral, nightly repartee that provided him with small degree relief at the end of a typically wearing, sometimes trying day.

His thoughts abruptly turning to disinherited Prince Herleif, Zakhertan angrily looked away. The ignoble son, who had been nothing but a disappointment from day one, could simply rot in jail for all he cared, but eventually Zakhertan knew that he would have to execute him. That part did not disturb him as much as the dread that Herleif would shame him further when he faced the hour of his end, for Prince Herleif had always been innately deficit in both courage and honour.

 

03-PRINCE HERLEIF YOZDEK (7)JP

 

Zakhertan had even considered dispatching his assassins to the subterranean dungeon to finish him off quietly in the dead of night, but part of him still wanted to further punish this reprehensible spawn, therefore, no easy death for him for being such ignominy to Zakhertan. This thought unfortunately brought to his mind another disappointment, Lord Shouzi Yozdek, a relative that Zakhertan had once actually respected and bore certain affections (fondness) to.    

A second cousin from the paternal side of the family and only four years Zakhertan’s senior, as children the two had been (inseparable) thick-as-thieves. In fact, during the memorable period prior to and up till puberty, the mischievous duo that shared similar characteristics and interests, had embarked on more than fifty hair-raising adventures, each of which to date Zakhertan fondly remembered, to nosh (nourish) their innate, perverse appetite for carnage.   

The unleashed zest for bedlam and violence had (ultimately) paved the way later for Zakhertan to achieve his utmost ambition. Alas, change being inevitable, Shouzi during his teens had sadly undergone a drastic, inexplicable conversion (change) in character, which to date Zakhertan did not know the cause or reasons for it. All the same, Shouzi had readily each time answered Zakhertan Yozdek’s call to arms and, it had been Shouzi who had without fail bolstered Zakhertan Yozdek during those difficult campaigning years, making it possible for him to ascent steadily in power.

Zakhertan now pondered with a leaden heart how in all those years Shouzi, with his estimable courage, loyalty and prowess, had once been a valuable kin and an intimate friend, fighting alongside him, when Zakhertan one by one toppled (eradicated) all opposition, vanquished all his nemesis and consolidated his power to establish his present, enduring and omnipotent reign (dynasty, empire).

04-SHOUZI YOZDEK - JP  7

Zakhertan Yozdek, moreover, had never forgotten how Shouzi at a crucial juncture once, had mounted a daring rescue and delivered him from the clutches (jaws) of death, after Zakhertan because of his overestimation, had been caught in a terrible ambush. His life had been spared because of Shouzi’s intrepid feat and for that, Zakhertan owed him a life; hence, the reason for his present, troubled mind, and pained conscience, having already initiated the only viable recourse, to curb (if not stop) Lord Shouzi Yozdek’s future objective (aim).

How swiftly time had passed; how capriciously family and friendship bonds went astray!

Zakhertan did not know this, but he stood at the cusp (threshold, verge) of more akin perfidies (betrayals) from those he trusted the most.

Zakhertan Yozdek had always presumed (believed) that he was a great judge of character and astute observer; he could spot a fake sincerity or sham loyalty from slightest shift in nuances (tones, hints, tinges) of facet (face, characteristics) or mien (demeanor, aspect) of any Royal family member or a liege subject (pledged, vassal, warrior, official, aristocrat or a plebian) in his kingdom. He knew he had never stinted with his gratitude and recompense of any good deed. Zakhertan, besides which, had bestowed far more favors on that unappreciative (surly ingrate) truculent (insolent) and audacious Lord Shouzi (a second cousin), than he’d done for anyone else.

And, he had raised no objection to Lord Shouzi’s third son Konnur’s nuptial’s (marriage) to Lamont Gudaren’s daughter Arabel, which had established a strong, mutually beneficial bond between the Lord and the Prime Minister; albeit this shrewd political maneuvering, had warranted Zakhertan’s perpetual, close monitoring of their coalition (association, link) over the past years.

05-ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (81)

 

Moreover, last ten or more years, Zakhertan had been more than generous and lenient with Lord Shouzi Yozdek’s other akin, political, and economic transactions (maneuverings), allowing the Lord to amass his present, copious wealth, and influence.

   

Then what had happened? What grievance had been at the root, that so propelled Shouzi, a once close friend, to turn on him? Zakhertan with disdain pushed aside the stack of documents before him on his desk and then letting out a long, exasperated breath, he eased his weary back into the cushioned chair.

Deep down of course he knew the basis of Lord’s dissension, though he refused to admit Lord Shouzi's apparent weakness and his recent indifference. Until recently Shouzi had been dependable kin, an ardent loyal friend and a good vassal, whose analytical mind and actions had always been ruled by logic. He had proven that more times than Zakhertan cared to remember it. All that had changed however when Shouzi’s eldest son Wasmund, having been found guilty of mutinous political views and his reckless association with the known rebel group, was incarcerated and subsequently executed. By rights Lord Shouzi should have understood his (Zakhertan’s) obtaining confirmation much too late of the boy’s inadvertent part in that conspiracy. But then, Wosmund could be said to have brought that misfortune upon himself; for the young upstart brazenly and passionately in military court had defended (championed) the culpable faction's right to rebel! He’d called him a barbaric Narcissist! Imagine that! Besides these unpardonable offences Wosmund had furthermore, blatantly renumerated in thundering voice, the insurrectionist’s novel grievances (list of criticisms and objections) against the present regime, which had been fought and lost two years prior by the movement's cofounder, Zakhertan Yozdek’s beloved son Prince Qijerrik. The old wounds rehashed, despite Lord Shouzi's entreaties (to Zakhertan) to grant his twenty-year-old son a reprieve, a life for a life in exchange for the debt Zakhertan had owed him, Wosmund had to be made an example of and so, was duly decapitated.     

 So, what, Zakhertan Yozdek scoffed. At least he was not quartered.

Besides, Zakhertan’s loss had been far greater; for he had lost his beloved Qijerrik at the tender age of fifteen. But even after the swift execution of all suspected instigators and participants, the insurgency far from being quelled at the root, had in fact arisen anew in four years in two isolated pockets of the nation, threatening to mushroom into another fully fledged rebellion. These budding malcontent dissidents had to be at all costs suppressed (crushed); subsequently, after Qarzten Caimund’s effective and precise (efficient) measures, Wenjenkun had enjoyed the four years of stability and peace.  

 

 

(END OF SECTION 26)                          

 

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 20

Here is a succinct explanation as to what really happened Stuart Chutek, far from the Capital Channing:

On route to Lord Tonzeye Yevgun in Chukset Province, Stuart Chutek’s journey was hindered by tumultuous rains, which had made the major highway and most of the alternate roads, virtually impassable (obstructed or treacherous); therefore, he had stayed for the additional two days at a modest Inn near the Nexoko Pass.

01 B- STEWART CHUTEK TRAVELLING- JP

On the second night, during a private repast with a very friendly merchant and his bookish assistant also on route to Chukset Province, he had been quietly drugged however, then robbed of his possessions. The still unconscious Stuart Chutek was then quietly taken out the back door, carried to the edge of a very high precipice by these clearly ruthless Wolfbane Brotherhood agents, then unmercifully dumped over the cliff’s edge- with the immediate danger extant (existent) from shards of rocks protruding from the periphery-into the deep, forested gully (ravine, gorge) that had a fast flowing river with tumultuous waves and currents, carving a snaking course through it (the canyon) at the very base.

The turbulent and foamy waves of the river had carried Chutek for a time, his head bopping (trouncing) in and out, every so often barely visible, amidst the rushing waters that carved a violent path across the ravine and then eventually cascaded over a spectacular waterfall thousands of meters down, which was picturesque, though very lethal.

Logically, anyone in Chutek’s predicament would have indubitably perished; nevertheless, the capricious (unpredictable, variable) fate had deemed that Chutek, even though he had scant chance to survive, would miraculously triumph over this certain catastrophe.

02- STEWART CHUTEK  (5)

Alas, as Chutek was swept along by the rapid currents of the river, racing alongside the tree stems (stalks, trunks, heavy branches) and, consequently, his head often crushing into or colliding with these floating (racing) wooden debris- he inexorably (unavoidably) was fated to suffer a future syndrome (disorder) of permanent amnesia (memory loss). Furthermore, Chutek ‘s mien (appearance), his once beautiful visage was also irrevocably (altered) marred by the three unforgiving deep lacerations (slashes, gushes) across his face. And so, his ordeal had transformed him from being strikingly handsome to just being plainly ordinary, if not an ugly lad (guy, chap). Then again, it was a deliberate feat (deed) of destiny, or a blessing from Heaven, for Chutek thereafter would remain aptly anonymous and fortunately, be well hidden (concealed) from those that would still seek to harm him.

Chutek was eventually washed ashore to the gravelly (pebbly) beach, and discovered by a recluse, aged warrior that bore physical scars on his body all over, which told of a once violent past. Halvar Gosta was his name, and two decades ago he had permanently turned his back to that way of life, deliberately forsaking all trappings of civilization and any human habitations (settlements).

Halvar Gosta, once a mighty warrior, he had back then been pushed to the brink of insanity; thus, a bedlam (turmoil, conflict, bout), instigated by an unforgivable past trauma, at the ramparts (parapets) of the heavily armed fortresses guarding Eastern far frontier of Wenjenkun, had resulted in an unavoidable two hundred pugilists (combatants, squaddies), one high official and four officers’ fatalities, as they had tried to contain him. Nevertheless, escaping the clutches of the law, he had made good his escape; however, from then on deemed a rebel, overnight he had become a wanted criminal with a hefty bounty (reward) on his head.

Halvar’s unyielding will to persevere had eventually cast him to this faraway (outlying,) corner, where which the hostile terrain (territory) demanded constant vigilance just to survive. Absconded (fled, settled) to this high altitude remote mountainous region (at the northwestern sector of the Konourek Province of Wenjenkun Empire) where all but the hardiest of souls could have persisted, and by existing (subsisting) in this arduous though natural environment, incessantly battling the harsh climate and the abundant, voracious, roaming predatory beasts (that lacked the guile, treachery and duplicity of humans)- he’d gradually (by degrees) tempered his core explosive (volatile) fury (ferocity) and reclaimed his sanity (lucidity, reason). Thereafter, he had lived the reminder of his solitary days in (mundane) routine subsistence and in equitable (relative) peace. He hunted game or periodically indulged in fishing trips, for variance and to survive.

But then again, his lot (destiny, luck) perpetually dogged by erratic (random, unpredictable) providence (divine intervention), once while pursuing a game, he had fallen into a deep chasm and lost consciousness; when he came to, he found himself encountering a most venomous snake, ready to strike him. Halvar’s strong grip had promptly sent (dispatched) the serpent to the netherworld, but not before the serpent’s fangs had targeted his calf (shin, lower leg).

 

03   HALVAR (11)B -JP

The venomous bite would have finished him off for good had it not been for the woman who had happened to be at nearby vicinity, quietly and unseen, gathering rare medicinal herbs on the very mountain.

She at once had acted decisively to save his life. He had learned of this later, that she had first successfully drew out the poison from the two puncher wounds of the viper; then, she had carefully applied herbal poultices to the area. Subsequently, she had torn strips from her oversize shirt and carefully bandaged the wound. The next step had been the hardest to undertake (accomplish, achieve, complete), as she with some difficulty, got him out of the deep chasm, then hauled (towed, dragged, pulled) his massive muscular (athletic, robust), fit form, with dogged persistence, till they reached the safety of her well-concealed (by the runners, ivy), sturdy wooden cabin that had been built long ago by her now deceased warrior father.

Subsequent days, despite her diligent care, the stranger had been delirious, his soul and physical body thrashing about, racked (beset, tormented) with fighting personal demons and dangerously high fever. She with her strong determination, had patiently however, brought him back from the edge of death, with her ancient herbal remedies and medicinal poultices that had been passed down to her.

On the fifth day, his fever had finally broken (subsided), and he had slowly regained his full conscience (senses); that morning waking at dawn, though groggily (dizzy and weak), he had at first lain perfectly still, with his eyelids closed willing agility and strength to his limbs and trying to make sense of his present circumstance. When he opened his eyelids again, this time his patient, stealth gaze had at first briefly rested on his bandages, then perused (scrutinized, surveyed) the immaculate (spotless, clean) and orderly interior of a sparsely furnished wooden, logged cabin:

 His eyes stayed for a time on the remarkable warrior’s shield (armor) with an unusual crest (emblem symbol) on it, the like of which he had never seen and next, rested on the adjacent (nearby), a clearly magnificent, sheathed sword with jewelled hilt (handle), mounted on the far wall. There were also bundles of strange herbs hung low from the ceiling, infusing (pervading) the interior air with their varied fragrances, some of it being positively intoxicating. On a two-tear shelf, besides the window with shutters, rested six glass jars of herbs and 8 jars of what looked to be preserved mushrooms or fruits.

It was then that he acutely became aware (also realized) that he was resting on the only bed in the room. His soft regard (respectful stare) next affixed on presumed saviour’s back, he watched her carefully for a time as she tended the fire in the hearth (central fireplace). Then, while Halvar surreptitiously (quietly) observed her practical, methodical efforts (actions, movements), he inwardly queried, amazed at the small, framed female, who clearly was alone, having so managed to extricate (rescue) him from the deep gulch (gulley, pothole), drag him, for presumed inconceivable distance (length), till they reached the safety of her bungalow (abode) in the woods. He was same time quietly perturbed that another human being had lived/survived on this mountain without him ever detecting her presence. Typical mountainous region overall was an unforgiving place; death stalked the weak, with prevalent dangers abound, not only from elements but from myriad creatures and predatory beasts.

He was curious to learn if the shield and sword belonged to her or another; more importantly, how long and what kind of reason propelled her to live in this harsh environment?

Norna, just then detecting a slight variance in his breathing (also, his slight stirring), therefore, knowing that he was fully awake, in an unhurried manner then had half turned and enigmatically smiled at him with that broad grin; she then nodded, and rising to her feet and turning to face him fully, exclaimed: Its good, you’ll live.

04 B- NORNA - JP

Delightfully then, she had introduced herself as Norna (purposely leaving out her surname) and then quietly asked after his name. He parted his lips to comply (speak) but then suddenly became aware that his throat was terribly parched (thirsty); wincing, and with difficulty he had then propped himself up to a sitting position. Before he could ask her for it, however, anticipating his need she had hastened with the tepid (lukewarm) cup of water, then cautioned him to take it slow.

He had gratefully drunk his fill, and then introduced himself as simply Halvar, taking his cue from her and leaving out his surname. He next with deep gratitude evident in his voice, had thanked her for saving his life and then stated that he was now, forever, indebted to her. Subsequently, noticing her bedding all rolled up, and tugged at the corner of the hearth, he, lowering his gaze had expressed his shame and guilt at occupying her bed, while she slept on the floor. She had dismissed this so sweetly with the wave of her hand, that for the first time ever tiny crack had appeared in his icy heart, threatening to thaw it, and edit (revise) his forever hardened resolve, his (antipathy) utter aversion of all human beings.

Later still she had helped him drink (ingest) a particularly nutritious warm broth, till colour returned to his cheeks. Halvar upon his inquiry, had learned then that she had once lived with her warrior father and that the sword and shield bearing their family’s crest had belonged to her now deceased father Jarle. She had fallen silent for a time and noting her reluctance to speak any further on this, he had let it pass.

05- JARLE (WARRIOR, FATHER OF NORNA)2

Later still, nights being long, as each sipped from clay cups the freshly brewed hot tea, a sort of soothing herbal concoction that would enable one to sleep soundly, it was then that she desisting tears (though it was evident in her face that her grief was still fresh), in a choking voice told him, that she lived alone and had done so, since the sudden, tragic demise of her beloved father Jarle.

Three winters past, on a particularly tempestuous day, a sudden snowstorm had blanketed the mountain by several inches of pristine white, reducing visibility to virtual nil; her father Jarle returning home from a hunt and being caught in this, had furthermore, suffered a fall into a deep chasm which had also trapped a voracious (ravenous) predatory beast. She did not need to finish the narration (account, story), as Halvar with certain understanding nodded his head. He had clearly understood that warrior Jarle consequently had been mauled to death and then mostly, if not entirely eaten (bone and flesh) by the ravenous beast, by the time she had tracked her father’s whereabouts. Halvar had surreptitiously looked at her brief time later, with sympathy gripping his heart, understanding the grizzly discovery of Jarle that still to date, hunted her peace.

Following days as Norna slowly and diligently had nursed him back to sound (fit, good) health, anticipating his every need and providing it without being asked; during this period Halvar, nevertheless, became impatient at being idle, wanting to at least in part, by doing specific errands or repairs, to repay her kindness to him. Understanding this need, she tasked him with minor chores that entailed (required) certain skill but did not necessitate sturdy (robust) strength or vigorous agility.

06 HALVAR (8)

Subsequently, quietly observing her ways, Halvar was utterly drawn by her natural beauty and her quiet grace, but more importantly, by her agility and utter competence in stoically handling (dealing) as she did, the daunting (intimidating), demanding chores, errands (undertakings) vital (essential) for survival in this remote wilderness. More remarkable still, she did all that while preserving (keeping intact) her innate sweet nature and her compassionate, loving heart. Trying not to stare into those captivating, blue eyes, for she was clearly abashed (embarrassed); he quietly appreciated her characteristic (natural), remarkable resilience, high intelligence, and at times dumbfounding physical strength, despite her frail frame. By now, he had insisted on sleeping on the ground while she again rested at night on her bed.

He did not know it then, but gradually, by degrees, as he convalesced physically and mentally, recovering increasingly more his prior robust capacities, he began doing more strenuous tasks and providing regular meat and for variety, sometimes fish (like salmon), with his frequent hunting trips. Meanwhile, he was gradually being besotted (enamored) by this incredible woman that took his breath away each time their eyes accidentally met, or, when she smiled at him.

He did not return to his cabin for a long time; her place being sturdier, more welcoming and more practical than his, and when he did, he was aghast to see that while he was away, a lightening strike had totally (decimated, destroyed) incinerated, his cabin and the immediate periphery (margin, vicinity) to ash. He would have expired, if not severely burned, had he been staying at his (hastily constructed) cabin during this catastrophe. He understood then that Norna had brought him luck and, also for the second time, had saved his life. With a totally thawed heart (ice completely gone- as the trust in another permanently taken root in his heart), now definitely infatuated and almost fanatical in his devotion to her, he returned to live with her, this time permanently.

And so, the two unlikely persons, begun their slow, patient journey towards becoming a habitual (usual) blissful pair, with a consistent tender moments of family, nourished by the quintessential feelings of laughter, deep affection, care, joy, passion, trust, filial loyalty- all wrapped up in the precious bundle of eternal love.

The once disillusioned warrior Halvar had never anticipated (expected) to have a second chance at happiness, furthermore, to encounter another solitary individual, a beautiful, remarkable woman, that eventually became his everlasting soulmate partner (wife). Their frequent, enthusiastic union had blessedly in time, produced his beloved, beautiful daughter Clara who had her mother’s eyes. She was also an accomplished healer, same as her mother once been.

07- CLARA (NARNA AND HALVAR'S DAUGTER)  JP2

After the loss of his beloved wife to fever, three winters past, Clara now seventeen, she often gathered herbs from the mountain gradient; furthermore, it kept her mind occupied and from wondering what lay beyond the mountain. Halvar was very protective of his daughter, though he, not wishing to stifle her innate nature (and her creativity), learned to be patient and tolerant of her often, wayward ways. Then happened another addition to their sturdy abode (home).

One invigorating (brisk) morning, when the first rays of dawn reached earth, Halvar had quietly exited his wooden cabin (humble abode); then, with quick sure steps he had descended down from the mountain, armed with his fishing-gear (and also, his fishing spear), and quickly reached his favorite spot along the rocky shoreline of the tumultuous (fast flowing) river. But then, as he was about to cast his line, his ears had just then detected a barely audible low groan of pain, and so, he had spotted Chutek’s battered and bruised, barely alive body sprawled over the gravelly-sand, half hidden in the thickets, and from then on, his way of life had altered irrevocably.

Would Alvar have tolerated and allowed the rescued being to live with them, one wonders, if he was not a eunuch?

 The young man, rescued from the clutches of death by Halvar and nursed back to health by lovely Clara, then renamed in a quiet ceremony Randolf, fit in perfectly within the range of their blissful coexistence and so, in the end Chutek had lived happily ever after, away from the trials and tribulations of the civilized world.

08- HALVAR - RANDOLF(CHUTEK) AND CLARA

                                                                                               ~

 

(END OF SECTION 20) 

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 8

 

Royal Tutor Worren Youkup’s sleep of late had often been troubled by violent dreams. This night being no different, he turned and tossed, thrashing this way and that, held fast in the vice grip of a terrible nightmare. Worren saw himself as he was once, a young, adventurous lad; in this dream episode however, he was alone in a tiny skiff, riding the swift currents down the Yawjun River and negotiating the turbulent, aggressive waves that threatened to topple his small craft (boat). Regardless of the danger, in his heart he felt certain of the urgency of reaching his destination; he must get there before it was too late, for time was of the essence!

01- WORREN YOUKUP AS A YOUNG MAN

Oddly enough, he could not remember for the life of him where it was that he needed to go; only that it was of vital importance that he got there. When the wind abruptly died down and all was still, he at once grabbed the oars and rowed as fast as he could towards the mid section, to take advantage of the swift currents and therefore, propel the boat swiftly as before,  gliding across the water as if his life depended on it.

Subsequently, the still air altered (was replaced), as the sun ominously took quick refuge behind the mountain that loomed over the left bank of the river. Shafts of lightning split the sky and peals of thunder crushed through the flotilla of clouds that had been swirled into being by the just then rising winds. Soaked now to the bone, Worren Youkup knew that his only safety lay in reaching the banks of the river as he applied his oars in that direction. He rowed and rowed, huffing and puffing, exerting himself to the point of exhaustion but still not getting any closer. To compound his difficulties, a thick curtain of pelting rain followed by a gray mist just swept off the land to erase (hide) all indications of the shore; his soul gripped in trepidation, he helplessly rode the undulation of angry waves, rising and falling on the great expanse of the water. His fear intensified realizing that he was now cast in the middle of a vast ocean. If the skiff overturned, because he had never learned how to swim, he would most certainly perish. What to do? What to do?

All right, so the talons of ill fate had carried him out to the centre of the ocean but being a pragmatist, he concentrated, not on how or what had instigated his dire predicament but rather, on the possible recourses where which he could extricate himself from this terrible danger. To his great consternation however, the little boat just then started to whirl around and round, with increasing velocity. He strained to fight the dizziness, to keep his eyes open and to maintain focus.

What is going on? He felt his forehead for the possibility of fever. Nope!

Then he saw it!!  Thousands and thousands of fish rising to the top, all floating belly-up on the surface, stunned by the churning waters; however, they suddenly transformed, all resembling (looking like) knives, stilettos, penknife’s, the ordinary kind scholars used!

 What did it all mean? A certain foreboding anew gripped Worren Youkup’s heart.

02- WORREN YOUKUB IN NIGHTMARE

All this while the whirling had continued and he got sucked down to the depths of the ocean by the funnel until the boat touched bottom where which a quaking, sandy bed tossed him mercilessly to and for. His heart’s palpitations intensified when he saw swimming towards him just then, the open red mouth of a huge grotesque black eel that was at least thirty feet in length. Another larger, even more monstrous eel chased away this monster however, which then turned and advanced towards him with an even greater zeal (vehemence). Worren Youkup clenched his jaw, same time his hand gripped the upper part of his nightshirt, as if to contain the fierce hammering in his chest and held on tight.   

Steady, steady on now. He told self, to calm his raw nerves. Except that, Worren saw that the eel now nearer still, had a human head. It swam closer and then flashing its razor-sharp teeth, it greeted Worren: “It will not be long now, Elder Brother. Oh, but how I missed you; I have been all alone and miserable all this while!"      

Worren realizing it was his long dead brother Kosi, he was about to accost him when, from the side another giant fish with mouth wide open suddenly advanced to, in one gulp swallow Worren and the skiff together. The old tutor and the boat, now in the belly of an abdominal cavity filled with toiling, turbulent, stomach acid- smelling putrid and burning everything, it touched, were quickly spirited away into the depths. The wood of the skiff began to smolder, and Worren knew that it was just a matter of time before, his flesh too would burn; meanwhile, his chest constricted from breathing in the steaming stench, rising from this sea of gastric juices. Oh, what a horrible way to die!

But Worren Youkup suddenly woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. Outside his door he heard rushing feet and urgent whispers. "What's going on there?” he mumbled to himself as he rose from his bed. He lethargically reached for his robe, his old bones creaking as he called out to his steward. Aside from minor ailments and the occasional slight headache, such as the one that plagued him now, he was in fairly decent (physical) shape for a man close to sixty-five years in age. Longevity ran in his family, so it was expected that he would live for yet another fifteen to twenty years.

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Steward Chutek was quick to respond with the tepid cup of tea Worren Youkup needed to wash away the parchment that usually wrapped the inside of his throat. After gratefully gulping part of the lukewarm tea, he held the cup just a slight distance away from his lips.

"What in damnation is going on out there at this beastly hour? Has the whole city gone mad?"  He was a bit more than disgruntled by the pandemonium outside and believed the household should have long been asleep, snuggled in their quilts by now. In fact, it was his intention, once his thirst was quenched; to retreat (withdraw) swiftly under the sanctuary of the warm quilts and, hopefully, this time, get a good night's sleep.

However, as the steward answered his unwitting question, he blanched and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, over the bloodless gooseflesh. His heart wildly palpitated in shock and, cup still poised in mid-air, he fought hard to control a sudden bursting anger.   

"That vixen, this is all her doing."  With a quaking hand he put the cup on the nightstand. "She sure has played me for a fool, and there is no fool like an old fool." He continued with his incensed mutterings. "But this has gone far enough." He steeled himself, “No, do not lose your temper. It will do no good for you to explode. Get a grip on your senses now; this matter must be managed with tact and decorum. Yes, this will require all your faculties, tolerance and the necessary wiles all presented in a rational and reasonable manner.”   

Worren Youkup refused to even consider the alternatives in view of their grim repercussions and quickly pushed all unpleasant speculations away from his mind in favor of the more positive outcomes. Besides, he told himself, it is highly unlikely that anyone, even one as cunning as Egil Viggoaries, would ever fathom the unthinkable. None could ever conceive of, let alone question such a bizarre, far-fetched notion. For the time being at least, he had nothing to fear. Yet his heart in defiance of his will, would not co-operate with the cool calculations of his mind and his rage mounted despite all Worren's efforts to hold his emotions in check as he pieced the events together. All the innocuous incidents, the fragmented questions, actions, and machinations that built up to this denouement fell into place as part of the culprit's expert plan to coerce him into becoming part of this despicable, diabolical plot.

Worren Youkup’s mouth creased into a grimace of pain as indignation burned a pit in the cavity of his chest. He let out a shuddering sigh and shook his head, reflecting on what little consequence the unwillingness of his participation would bring to his eventual judgment. The ridicule that public knowledge of his part in this would bring, he anticipated, would alone be far worse than ten thousand public executions. His integrity was in peril and his head now throbbed with pain as he searched for the best ways to extricate himself from blame and at the same time to preserve the prestige he had held, reveled in for five decades. In seething fury and contempt, he abruptly rose to his feet, overturning the cup he had so carefully just moments before placed at the edge of the night table. Oblivious to the spill, he began to pace the floor, hands clasped firmly behind him, grumbling indecipherable words punctuated by the periodic curse under his breath.

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This unexpected, atypical reaction baffled and astonished the steward.  

“I had no idea master cared so much about the Crown Prince.” He bit his lower lip in consternation. “How could I have erred so?”  Like everyone else, he thought that Worren Youkup despised the worthless Prince Herleif, having so often expressed privately his displeasure at Prince’s contemptible conduct.   

Still, the signs of Worren’s mental anguish, the way his face flushed taut with pain and the sweats beaded his brow, were unmistakable and alarmed Steward Chutek. He volunteered immediately to fetch Royal Physician, but Worren would not hear of it.  

"As if I have nothing better to do at this time of the night than be poked and prodded by those overrated ninnies," he griped, glaring at the servant. Worren’s voice however became more even and controlled as he continued, "Their ministrations are quite unnecessary. See to it that I am not disturbed for the remainder of the night, not by anyone."    

"But...But..." Chutek was about to advance an argument that was abruptly cut off short by a gesture of Worren’s hand.  

"I said no one, and that includes you. Now go!"  Having barked out these orders, Worren turned his back to the steward. Chutek stared at the obviously tense shoulders of his master's rigid posture and shook his head in despair, understanding full well that, when Worren Youkup was in this determined state there was no arguing or reasoning with him. He knew his master's obstinate nature extremely well and, therefore, despite strong misgivings he obeyed. Shrugging, he turned and dragged his feet across the room. Just as he cleared the door, he hesitated and, turning informed Worren in a clean, crisp voice that, all the same, he would be stationed outside at arm's length should the old tutor changed his mind or need anything further, anything at all.

05- STEWARD CHUTEK 5- JP

"Sometimes you can be such a pest. Who made you a mother hen?"  His face hidden from the steward, Worren nevertheless donned a smile, touched deeply by Chutek’s deep concern and unwavering loyalty. That was so typical of Chutek, he quietly reflected. To date he had fostered quite a fondness for the steward and felt as protective of the young man as if he had been his own kindred, the son he had always yearned for, yet never could have created (conceived).

Worren Youkup himself, orphaned at an early age, had been raised as the adopted son of the acclaimed scholar Keonz of Curnan Province, who had later held the office of Royal Tutor. As it were, before Zakhertan Yozdek, the position of Royal Tutor’s was esteemed enough to extricate (spare) the acclaimed literate (erudite, academic) from being an obligatory eunuch. Worren Youkup, typically, as soon as he could read and write, had been extensively educated in all the skills necessary for him to one day hold a tutor’s post. When the dynasties changed, it was during this time, as another crucial step to the preparation necessary for Worren Youkup to assume Keonz's post upon his mentor's eventual passing or incapacity that he, at the age of twenty-one, in traditional (age-old) ceremony, had been made a eunuch.   

Worren had always felt that, in a way, Keonz had been more fortunate than himself since the tutor had experienced a normal life up until the time when he had lost his wife and family in a catastrophe and had then chosen to voluntarily become a eunuch to educate Prince Qijerrik.    

“At least he had been given a choice.” Worren groaned, the old bitterness gnawing at him. Sub-human, Worren had inwardly termed all eunuchs, including him, and had carried a deep sense of loss and resentment since that time. He had always kept this resentment secret; however, absolving his adopted father from all blame, for Worren’s code of moral conduct which included absolute filial piety, demanded nothing less.

“After all, my prominent position had enabled me to enjoy the uninterrupted and otherwise enviable life of pace and luxury.” Worren endeavouring to lift his spirits out of the abyss, shrugged. “And I escaped all those years of persecution, which had so often plagued my counterparts (equivalents).”  His worries somehow assuaged, Worren reflected on another piece of luck that had facilitated this satisfactory long life. Sometime in the past, Worren no less brilliant than his peers, had had the good fortune of being in position (being able) to extricate young Zakhertan Yozdek from a tight, dire situation and the Sovereign's memory had been long. Furthermore, since Worren Youkup had never openly repudiated Zakhertan Yozdek’s usurpation of the Throne, this, and his past good deed, had spared him the worst of the indignities and barbarous tortures that had been meted out to the other scholars during those terrible years of the purges. This special treatment had been a two-edged sword however, for it had also alienated him from all the close associates he had cultivated in his previous years.

Had Worren not been a pragmatist, he would have ended his own life in protest over the atrocities; as it were, after the tumultuous times had passed, he had been reinstated to his former position. In this contemptible gilded cage hence, he had executed his duties mechanically, seeing to three consecutive Royal offspring’s proper education, till one day he hoped to be rescued, from this mundane and frivolous existence, by the peaceful sleep of long-awaited death.  

Worren Youkup’s thoughts reverted to Chutek, and he again cogitated (ruminated) on how fortunate he had been thus far to have at this late stage of life, a comforting companion, who was much more than a steward, by his side. Chutek reminded him in so many ways his old young self, but of course Cutek was also different in characteristics, he wished he could have had. Chutek had entered his service in his early adolescence and under most bizarre circumstance and even though Chutek had come from an uncouth peasant family, he had from the first endeared himself to him and as well established a good reputation among his peers by his extraordinary intelligence, keen observations, sensitivity and, above all, his compassionate heart which was almost a rarity in Channing. 

06- OTHER STEWARDS AND STAFF

 

Indeed, Chutek was different, had always been different from the bunch living, sham coexisting or thriving in capital city. Most incredible, he had not been hardened by the harsh experiences (trials) of life, even though he had suffered more than his fair share of it. Unable to meet their tax burden one year, his father had sold the youngest son Chutek into bondage to keep the rest of the family out of prison. It had been a vein effort, for trouble came nevertheless and Chutek had never seen any of them alive again. At the tender age of nine he had been orphaned and left at the mercy of ravenous wolves that prayed on such hapless, unsullied brood. Cursed with striking good looks, he had quite early on unfortunately, drawn the unwarranted attention from a lascivious official, who had jumped at the chance to secure the boy for his own licentious uses. Heaven only knows what that poor lad had (endured) suffered at the hands of that vile beast. Chutek, up to the present day, had refused to make any mention of those six ignominious years that corrupt official had enslaved him.   

With a certain understanding and sympathy for the steward's pain, Worren Youkup had never pressed to learn, although he knew enough to make an accurate guess at it. He had after all, seen the scars permanently imprinted (crisscrossed, etched) at the boy's back and chest, which had borne a mute testament to six years of abuse. Worren cringed as he pictured it in his mind, shaking his head and hissing out a long breath as if to dispel all the fierce indignation and anger that once more welled up anew within him. Chutek’s face however, for economic reasons, had been spared from being marred; and it brought little comfort to the tutor to remember that the official had paid dearly for his crimes.

Charged with extortion, the minor functionary, Worren Youkup could no longer recall his name, had suffered apt torture at the hands of Egil Viggoaries's officers before an ignominious public execution. Since the crime had fallen under Provincial authority the entire holdings of the man and his family, including all the servants, had then been confiscated by the Governor Yenokos of Kentor Province for proper disposal in accordance with existing law. As luck would have it, Worren on his special time off and wanting to get away from Channing, anon had accompanied his good friend Lukes when he was assigned on a state inspection to Kentor Province. They were being entertained at the Governor's mansion when Worren had chanced on Chutek. Worren was infuriated when the Governor Yenokos, seeing the boy was favored, smiled enigmatically, and looked at them both with undisguised calculation in his eyes. However, the pragmatic tutor had masked his disgust and indignation long enough to rescue the boy from the clutches of that despicable opportunist.

                                                                                        

07- GOVERNOR YENOKOS

                                                                                  

As anticipated subsequent day, wishing to curry favor, Governor Yenokos had only been too eager to make a gift of Chutek to Worren. Politely refusing this bribe, Worren had nonetheless later, as if in afterthought, had legally purchased the boy and sent him on ahead to be added, as a kitchen staff, to those in his employ. Of course, this was included as a small insert in Lukes’s extensive report to Zakhertan Yozdek and, despite the Governor's hopes; Yenokos still suffered the inevitable, downfall two months later.

Soon as he was back in Channing Worren initiated measures to free Chutek from bondage, giving him the option to select his own preferred livelihood (trade, vocation);  at his own behest however, Chutek had joined the ranks of the Eunuchs in the Palace and later still, became the new steward to Worren, whom he had served faithfully ever since. Sadly, Worren's partiality towards Chutek from the beginning had incurred the animosity of envious (green-eyed) Prince Herleif and consequently, the boy had suffered additional hardships and humiliations with his characteristic, stoic silence. Each time (whenever) Worren Youkup had found out about the harassment and put a stop to it, the spiteful (malicious) Prince had only become more adamant in his persecution. Committed to breaking Chutek's resilience, Prince Herleif with a surprising determination and cunning had consistently redoubled his efforts, as well as, drummed up support from among the other boys of his age at the palace, for his wanton (malicious) vindictive assaults (attacks) on Chutek.   

Worren Youkup, with his mind reeling with such concerns, for several minutes had remained rooted to the spot with his back to the door and stared blankly out the window into the darkness.

“This fresh trouble with Prince Herleif, the bane of my past and now present trouble, will certainly involve Chutek; and I fear this time I may not be able to extricate him from dire harm.” Worren thoughtfully nodded and sighed. “All those countless hours I'd wasted on Prince Herleif, trying to instill some goodness and benevolence in him, it was all, to no avail.” Worren Youkup pursed his lips, dismally reflecting on the fact that no amount of effort or discipline had ever gotten through to Prince’s selfish, greedy heart. “He’d always been and would always be an unconscionable, devious brute.”     

 And there was no denying what everyone knew but kept silent on: Prince Herleif, most unlike the revered Prince Qijerrik, had precious few good qualities to speak of. There was one thing, nevertheless, that Prince Herleif excelled in; since early childhood he had shown a rare, uncanny talent in astrological interpretations and, accepting the encouragement of others in this one field, he had gone on to surpass all expectations.  

Recalling the results that Prince Herleif had obtained in the past, Worren realized that the predictions had indeed always been of good account, not that it mattered to him now. The old tutor's opinions on the art were akin to those of Zakhertan Yozdek; lending the art no real credence despite all the prophecies he saw fulfilled, for he was sure there were many more predictions that were off target and therefore not remembered. He did find the exercise useful in much the same way as the Sovereign, as a source of entertainment for the higher classes and a means of manipulating the thoughts of the crowd and it did serve yet another purpose in that, for a few hours every night, it kept Prince Herleif out of trouble. For the latter reason Worren had kept his opinions on astrology to himself in order not to discourage the prince on the only endeavor for which he had shown any real promise.

Now, Lady Sejon's interest in the arcane philosophies was of a more recent vintage, Worren mused. But that was to be expected of the fairer sex. Still, with clear hindsight he wished he had not been so forthcoming about the recent, most dire, predictions concerning the present Regime. Prince Herleif had always run his findings past Worren first, so the old man could function as a sounding board, but Sejon had demanded proof of these findings when told, which once asked for, was difficult for Worren to refuse. He could well understand that her chief concern was for her child (toddler) Magnian. She had implored him, saying she could not rest until she had learned the specifics and as she believed, try making even a doomed effort to alter the future's bleak outcome.    

As it was within his means to help her, she asked that he borrow the Prince Herleif’s latest astrological work and show them to her. Then by applying her own knowledge in the field she could examine the findings herself. The scrolls would be returned afterwards, and no one would be the wiser.    

It seemed such a harmless request, and the alternative, her temper tantrums, and her wrath (fiery fury), would have been far more of a nuisance. Inwardly he had been amused by her naivety and had understood well her natural averting (avoidance), of having any direct dealings with Crown Prince. Besides, who could blame her for not wanting to feel obligated to one such as Herleif? Despite the outward congenial exchanges and though close in age,   

Worren suspected that those two had been in truth, anything but adversaries. In fact, Worren Youkup could not remember there ever been an issue they did not clash over except this prophecy. Feeling that the prince Herleif was quite unreasonable nuisance to begin with, for being so miserly (niggardly) with his findings, wanting always to extricate most recompense from each result, he had seen no reason he should not comply with her wishes. Who would have thought that innocuous act he had been persuaded to do, would land him in such serious predicament.  

All this trouble had germinated from the one harmless, yet evil kernel that had been planted, none the less, with his consent.

08- WORREN YOUKUP (13)JP

 

Worren Youkup looked down, re-examining the akin (copy, duplicate) document, chewing his lower lip as he admonished himself for not standing firm in his long-time resolve of noninterference. He should never ever have consented to the Lady's request. Oh, but she had been so wily (canny) with her persuasion. She had made him feel so special, entreating him so humbly while same time artfully buttressing (building up) and stroking his ego. It had simply melted his heart when she had looked up to him with those beseeching eyes with flickering (fluttering) eyelashes, appearing oh so vulnerable, so very helpless.    

“Those two are, as the saying goes, cut from the same cloth.” Worren Youkup grumbled under his breath and nodded. With hindsight now, he marvelled at the proficiency in the obviously kept up sham which had masked the actual truth. Those two were and always had been serious competitors. Worren Youkup felt foolish for not having realized till now, the full measure of it.  

“She was far from helpless doddering fool! The more is the pity that you had not figured her out beforehand. Anyone looking at the way she behaved would have reckoned she was up to no good.”    

Unexpectedly once more, her angelic face floated before his mind's eye and part of him, even now, looked for ways to absolve her from all blame. “She had not, likely, planned it at all, only when the circumstances presented themselves that she had astutely seized the opportunity (chance). Who could blame her.”  But the damning, irrefutable evidence rushed forward again to trouble his heart and force him to face the dreaded humiliating truth, that he was indubitably, used!   

Worren Youkup shuddered, imagining the far worse repercussions that could have happened with such an unpredictable person as Zakhertan Yozdek as it was things still looked pretty grim. Egil Viggoaries had been put on the case and given only three days starting at dawn to arrest the culprits and report back. Royal Tutor feared for the countless innocents that would suffer under his ruthless investigation.

“What to do? What to do?”  

 

(END OF SECTION 8)