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)                                                                                           ~

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 15

Though Fradel was an experienced rider (equestrian), he had never before been forced to undergo such trying circumstances.  The dizzying speed with which Fiery Comet had galloped (ridden) and the many twists and turns (in topography) he had negotiated had totally spent Fradel's energies and befuddled his sense of direction.  As the stallion flew over and around the many hurdles in its path, Fradel had gripped the reins tightly, clinging to the horse in mortal fear as he used all his innate skill just to remain in the saddle.

 When, finally, Fiery Comet reined in, it took some time for Fradel to catch his breath, calm his heart and steady his nerves before he could dismount.

With the solid earth beneath his (unsteady) feet once more, Fradel looked over Fiery Comet with perturbation, feeling some misgivings despite himself.  The steed, meanwhile, was impatiently neighing and stomping his forefoot on the ground beside the very rock.

“What is it boy?” But then Fradel suddenly realized that Nevetsecnuac's sword was buried at that very spot, just few feet under the rock.

"I suppose I really should be grateful to you for saving my life?"  Fradel dusted off his clothes.  "And I realize now that it would have been too dangerous for me to return home directly at this time." he acquiesced quietly.

 After a few moments deliberation he nodded his head, recalling to mind Nevetsecnuac's parting injunction regarding this horse, “When in doubt, you may rely on his instincts. He will deliver you form all danger.”

Going over, he managed, with great effort, to roll the rock aside then, resting on his knees, dug out the sword with his bare hands.  The sword was still encased in the layers of silk brocade he had given Nevetsecnuac.  Dusting the dirt off, he removed these layers and unsheathed the sword.  Holding it high, he carefully examined this awe-inspiring weapon for any damage.  There was not even a minute notch.  Not even the slightest scratch was visible on the scintillating surface of the cold blue blade.

Truly an amazing blade, one of a kind; it must be true of what they say, that it is cast from a meteorite.  As he shifted his arm’s position, admiring the sword's brilliance, the sword's blade caught the setting sun's rays and radiated ominous torrents of sanguine red light.  That same instant, an icy breeze arose from nowhere, sweeping the area clean and forcing Fradel to shudder to the depths of his marrow.

Mesmerized by the metal's flickering light, he saw on its surface the manifestation of three levitating faces.  He sharpened his vision to recognize Nevetsecnuac's face, but could not place the other two, one old and one young and their identities baffled him.

 After a moment's reflection, however, he came to understand who the other two might be and a mournful, tragic smile played on his lips.  As his heart flooded with renewed longing and grief and his eyes brimmed with tears, he dropped to his knees and, in woeful supplication, implored Heaven's assistance in their righteous cause.

 Fiery Comet fell unusually quiet and at this moment in time, enveloped in stillness, Fradel saw unfolding in his mind's eye Nevetsecnuac's heroic countenance, larger than life, wielding this sword with consummate skill as he vanquished his enemies in a sea of blood.

 Then, from behind the prince, a monstrous crimson wave arched its back, leaping to devour him.  Reacting instantly, even though he could not swim, Fradel, with a palpitating heart, rushed forward with outstretched arms to embrace Nevetsecnuac, to shield him and deliver him from this terrible danger.  A quivering cry escaped him instead as his arms flailed in the empty air beside the rock.  Cupping his face in his hands, he gave way to a storm of tears.  His face contorted with pain and rivulets of sorrow cascaded down his burning cheeks.  Clutching at his heart, he wailed in mournful regret, "What am I doing here?  My place is with my brother.  I want to live and die by his side.  Oh, how could I have abandoned him so?”

"What do you want from me?"  The persistent nudges of Fiery Comet suddenly brought him back to his senses and the burst of anger subsided.

Presently, he hung his head low in resignation.  Yes, the beast is right.  There is no time for agonizing over my negligence.  No time for regret, or remorse, or grief. 

He knew then what he must do.  As a man of honor, his own salvation dwarfed in comparison to his obligation to deliver this sword to its rightful owner and the future heir (descendant, successor). Moreover, it was essential to the success of the task that he permitted himself no weakness.   Collecting himself, he scrambled back to his feet and carefully secured the sword across his back underneath his cape.

Though apprehensive at mounting such a spirited animal again, he nevertheless braced himself, boldly placed his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself back into the saddle.

No sooner than he'd gripped the reins, Fiery Comet shot forward like a missile just sprung from a catapult and Fradel's ordeal began anew.

Like his namesake, Fiery Comet's speed was such that Fradel felt as if he was riding a gale force wind.  The ground was a blur under the horse's hooves and the air moaned in Fradel's ears.  Flirtatious stars winked at him through floating clouds, as the trees, shrubs and grasses, casting their shadows by full moonlight, swayed in the breeze to bid them farewell.

Well into the night the lone rider sped, unfaltering, through the forests, hillsides, plains and valleys of the countryside.  Still, Fradel was not Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir.  Despite his determination and the care taken by his mount not to unseat his rider, the exertion still made Fradel's heartbeat with such wildness that he felt it would burst from his chest.

 His throat now parched, the hunger pains stabbing at his stomach merely compounded his misery. Had Fradel but known it then, this would be the norm from here on, that this was to be but the very start of the even more trying hardships that lay ahead- he might have had second thoughts and be fearful of the portended future.  As it were, from this day forth, he would never again be the one to bask in prior, carefree life of luxury (luxurious Lifestyle), one who’d devote many lonely hours to the adoration of beauty or contemplate on the philosophies of nature and of man.

 A true test to his innate (nature) characters however, he embraced wholeheartedly this new, arduous course (lifestyle), with courage and determination, wowing to do his utmost in furthering the righteous cause of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and his beloved sworn brother Prince Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir.

His will was one thing however, his physical strength and vigor (robustness) another. Despite his inner drive, his endurance taxed to the limit, he soon longed for rest.  Every fiber of his (being) body ached but his obstinate mount, as if to torment him, paid no heed to his commands and showed no sign of slowing down.

My stamina (physical strength and vigor) cannot keep up with this grueling ride, it is at ebb.  I fear it will fail me, then what?  Fradel dismally reflected. 

I should at least take measures to guard against falling. 

In desperation, he began winding the reins tightly about his wrists; securing himself somewhat he thought, in the saddle should he lose consciousness.  Before Fradel had secured the final loop, however, to his relief and elation, Fiery Comet began decreasing his speed until he came to a halt in a clearing at the edge of a forest. 

Acting on impulse, before this stubborn steed changed his mind, Fradel quickly loosened the straps and dismounted. He collapsed face down; spread-eagle on the ground in half conscious state.

When Fradel regained his senses the faint sound of a stream flowing nearby reached his ears.  So, I was not dreaming, he heaved a sigh.  Then he rubbed his throat, Oh, I'm so parched! 

Still teetering on the brink of collapsing once more, still saddle sore, he forced himself to his feet and, letting his ears and the horse, which had not left his side, to guide him, he groped his way in the darkness to the edge of the stream.  Once there he squatted, quaffing water from his cupped hands until his thirst was quenched.  Seeking further relief, he doused his face and neck with the cool, refreshing water.

Fiery Comet had moved downstream and was helping himself to drink when, feeling playful, he abruptly began to splash and spray flecks of water at the scholar.

Ignoring this dousing, Fradel rose, squeezed the excess water from his hair and, with a frown, headed straight for the nearest tree.  No sooner had he propped (leaned) his back against its trunk than his hunger disappeared, and he fell instantly into a deep slumber.

The stallion, disappointedly whinnying, trotted to Fradel's side where he began to quietly graze on the shorter blades near the tree, ignoring the lush, tall grass farther away in the meadow.

(END OF SECTION 15)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 16

It had been some time since Prince Nevetsecnuac and Alec leading their mounts, had passed through that harrowing subterranean tunnel, thankfully unscathed. Even now, Alec shuddered at the mere thought of it. He had expected it to be less arduous the second time around; in contrast, the capricious horrific incidents and the ensued wearing experience, one in particular, to date had left Alec terribly traumatized and infinitely (markedly) on edge.

  Maddeningly, the Prince had sailed through it all, not in the least bit perturbed by the onslaught of catastrophic events, unleashed by none other than Alec’s steed, and the consequential near-death experiences.

They were trekking outside now braving the elements of a different kind; unfortunately, the precarious shortcut route proved as treacherous for it was the depth of winter at these high altitudes. The ingenious contraptions of footwear with good traction, one of Asger’s clever inventions similar to that of Duan’s, had preserved them, man and mount, from more than once sinking into the depths of snow, or sliding over the terrifying precipices.

 As the wind moaned in their ears, the dense, whirling flakes flailing against their faces, their backs bent to the wind, with their horses' hooves sinking a foot deep through the powdered top layer of snow and into the tightly packed underlying layer, Nevetsecnuac and Alec rarely exchanging a word, incessantly pushed on.

Day after day enduring great hardships and untold dangers while persistently being tested by the cruel, trying forces of nature, they had hurried on to cover great distances and descend a good portion of these dicey (risky, hazardous) high altitudes.

"Perhaps we should have delayed our departure a few more months.” Alec grumbled in a barely audible voice, knowing full well that was not an option.

Nevetsecnuac shook his head and tacitly ejected, “This weather will persist until mid-summer." 

Forcing a smile, Alec nodded and continued to blindly advance into the wall of dancing flakes.  Trailing behind Nevetsecnuac, just as he had once done with Duan, despite his stamina and layers of fur, his body, his limbs yet again became benumbed with ceaseless exertion and cold; he slapped and rubbed his limbs for warmth and pursed his lips to restrain his groans and curses. In an attempt to divert his attention away from the persistent pain Alec focused instead on gauging the extent of Nevetsecnuac’ strength and stamina that spared the prince this torment; as it were, the discovery of few surprising elements earlier on, had persuaded Alec to amend (and postpone) his original intent.

After a grueling month Alec had lost all track of time, with days and nights and ceaseless drudgery of this trek intermingling with the terror of being stalked by ravenous wolves or sporadically attacked by voracious predatory beasts, all blending into one. Competent as he was, being outside of his element, he would have been wasted by the harsh environment or been devoured long ago by the beasts that had persistently, relentlessly dogged (hounded) them. To his chagrin time and again he had been constrained to concede, this certain reliance for his survival, on this very resourceful youth and his feats.

"There is a fierce storm brewing.” Nevetsecnuac stayed his footing just then, (halting,) and after his brief examination of the sky, grunted. “A little while further perhaps then we can stop.” Nevetsecnuac looked at Alec askance (sideways). 

Alec nodded without raising his head. In truth he felt ill at ease, “Was his discomfort that obvious?”

"There is an abandoned cave up ahead in which we can take shelter for the night." 

Under the cloak of white all marks had vanished, meeting Alec's skeptical gaze, Nevetsecnuac grimaced. "Don’t forget, I grew up on these mountains.  As it is we are taking the shortest route possible and should be in the safety of the foothills before long.  Otherwise, it would have taken us until next autumn, to traverse this distance."

Arrogant Alec was inwardly livid, interpreting Nevetsecnuac’s sensible words as disguised mockery, choosing to ignore the actual length of time it had previously taken him and Duan to reach the peaks.

 Latter (prince) might have grown up in these mountains, but it paled next to his grueling combat training   in Capital. Brute force, enduring stamina were only one aspect of the basic requirements; with a certain smugness therefore, Alec dourly pushed forward to advance swiftly. 

That night in the cave, shielded from the elements and warmed by the small fire, they had passed the time in relative comfort and safety.  After ingesting a barely palatable repast Alec, forgoing further exchange and sullenly giving his back to Nevetsecnuac, reclined his head in supposed sleep. Far from it, while his active mind perused through his most viable options; suddenly a fleeting, sardonic (wry) smile dawned on Alec’s lips and soon after he was lost to the world.

 The next morning, Alec seemed more affable towards Nevetsecnuac. What’s more, the remainder of the trek being mindful of Nevetsecnuac’s diffidence and anticipating Nevetsecnuac’s certain misgivings about him, Alec strove to ingratiate himself into Prince’s good graces with his most upright and frank demeanor.  By his consistent sincerity, faithfulness, humility, glib tongue, unfailing generosity, stamina and occasional heroics, by degrees (gradually) he succeeded in winning   Nevetsecnuac over.

 Now an affable travelling companion, on occasion when survival wasn’t paramount, Alec had even regaled Nevetsecnuac with accounts of heroics, adventure and tall tales of intrigue from the capital and far off parts of the Empire, fueling Nevetsecnuac’s imagination with personification and wondrous representations of the quintessence (embodiment of) world he scants knew from books.

 As they conversed to while away the lonely hours of travel, the topic of conversation skimmed over various areas of interest but decidedly rested each time on combat styles and armaments used in battle.

During one such exchange, Alec so as not to be too obvious, declaring his admiration of Lord Asger, tactfully strove to learn the finer points of Lord Asger’s fighting style; assuming that Asger had perfected his skill in martial arts, that of which made him nearly invincible, and had painstakingly passed it on to Nevetsecnuac.  Coveting this rare gift, the ambitious Alec implored Nevetsecnuac to instruct him on the finer points, whenever they took time out to rest.

"It is my life's desire, my duty to my father, to Lord Shonne Gulbrand and to you, my Prince, to be the best I can be, so that when the day comes, I may better assist our cause in battle.", he reasoned.  "For this, you must not begrudge me the benefit of your instruction, your Highness.  I've waited too long, all my life to be exact, for the day of vengeance and justice."  A note of indignation never failed to be infused into these genuine sounding requests.

Already missing his morning   exercises with Asger, Nevetsecnuac eventually acquiesced to Alec's wishes.

The addition of intense martial exercises wedged (jammed) between the grueling duration of trek, made the days and weeks pass more quickly, until finally, they, leaving behind the snowcapped mountains, reached foothills where temperatures were more moderate. 

They rode on extended periods with more ease now, oftentimes spurring their steeds into full gallop and sporadically (occasionally) racing for sport, while covering great distances.  And even though Alec’s horse repeatedly came second in every competition with the spirited (feisty) Fiery Comet, Alec’s amicability, his buoyancy and ardor never faltered.  

On these more temperate grounds, with the more frequent cloud-filled azure skies, warmer temperatures and thawing ground, it all attested to the approaching of spring.  Patches of green or brown appeared here and there on the slopes. Even a few tiny buds could be seen peeking out from the crevices, wedged between the icicles on the rock’s face.

Once, at a brief respite, bending to pick up a frail, purple flower, Alec gave a brief, admiring gaze, took a whiff of its raw fragrance then grounded it mercilessly to a soggy pulp in his hand.  His fingers and palms, steeped in the wild perfume, were stained purple with the flower's blood. With a distant, strange expression Alec hissed incomprehensibly.

Nevetsecnuac could only make out the words, "father", and "the villain must die.” 

With an uneasy feeling Nevetsecnuac’s eyes trailed Alec’s slow progression till he disappeared behind some bushes, presumably to relieve himself. On his return, with a somber countenance Alec set himself across from Nevetsecnuac.

Presently Alec appeared to have something grave on his mind, an urgent plight that was being forcefully constrained; after a dismissive shrug however, he abruptly rose and went to check in on his horse. Always respectful of another’s privacy, Nevetsecnuac chose to overlook these rare vacillating moods of Alec’s, deeming them to be just apprehension and understandable angst and disquiet stemming from impatience of reaching their set destination in time.

Subsequent days, the rocky, uneven ground, the enchanting yet precarious topography with deadly traps, constrained them to once more advance on foot. Neither of them minded this too much, for it also gave them the chance to discuss, compare and to exchange various views. Presently, as the sun's unobstructed rays bathed them in a shimmering, golden light that warmly caressed their faces, sounds of the gurgling of brooks and rivulets of melted snow and ice came from seemingly everywhere, flooding their ears.

 It was a truly spectacular warm morning that would have gladdened the weariest of hearts; but then that afternoon without warning, the rising, gusting winds whipped up the dark clouds overhead.

 The sun now in hasty retreat, the earth became gloomy, and its former gay tunes were drowned by somber whimpers and ominous drums.  There was no room for mercy in the incessant downpour that followed: its thrashing winds and rolling thunder shook all the hills around them. In the shrouding mists and pelting, wind-driven rain, Nevetsecnuac and Alec soaked to the skin, plodded (trod) mechanically, along the muddy, slushy, winding paths.

 Stopping only at night fall at a makeshift shelter, they ate some dried rations, oftentimes slept standing snuggled up to their mount for warmth or slept sitting up backs propped against some rock or tree-trunk, and then at first daylight they resumed their journey. In this way they had ridden out the storm that had lasted on and off, with persistent winds and overcast skies, for several dismal days.

 

                                                                                    ~

 

It was quite some time before the sun’s rays had again graced the earth.  Anew, the hard ground invited Nevetsecnuac and Alec to ride in gallop. By then having reached the emerald, green flat plains, carpeted in flowers, their hearts filled with renewed anticipation, they spurred their horses to cover once more vast distances.  The incessant ride halted only when darkness enveloped the earth. As they were still far removed from the nearest dwelling, they made a camp at the edge of the densely wooded area skirting a good size lake. Finding a suitable spot, sheltered from the full fury of the elements, they tethered the horses, washed up, and then quickly consumed some sustenance.  Drained (exhausted) from the day’s strenuous ride, they propped their weary backs against sturdy trees and under the canopy of the moon and stars with the earth as their mat, they closed their eyes, finally, for that well-earned sleep.

In that dream state, Nevetsecnuac saw himself fetching some more firewood at dawn, which he promptly deposited inside the cabin, then went out to wash up by the creek. His uncle was there already, finishing up.

“You are being too remiss!” At once Stark (Lord Asger) sternly admonished him. “Danger abounds, you must remain at all times, on your guard!”

Suddenly he heard a wild ruckus coming from the stables, as there was an alarm raised by Fiery Comet, stomping and neighing. Dropping everything, in haste both, Svein (Nevetsecnuac) and Stark (Lord Asger) darted towards it to investigate.

At this juncture, Nevetsecnuac was awakened with a start and saw the blade of Alec Therkan poised over him in readiness to strike.  Reacting swiftly, Nevetsecnuac adroitly twisted to one side and the sword with a loud thwack clove the tree trunk instead.  Rolling over, Nevetsecnuac nimbly grabbed his sword just in time to dexterously block Alec's next deadly strike.

"Have you gone mad?” Nevetsecnuac shouted at him in bewilderment and sudden rage.  

Alec, his eyes glinting with murder, derisively jeered through his gritted teeth,

"Don't call me 'Alec'.  The traitor Taok Therkan died childless years ago at his own father's hand." 

 

(END OF SECTION 16)

(NEXT POST- SECTION 17- THE CONCLUSION OF THE ASSASSINS)