LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 26

                  

Because the official who had originally chartered the dispatch boat was most eager to reach his destination, soon as Zunrogo's party stepped onto the deck, the anchor was hauled up and the craft immediately headed out.

01- AN OFFICIAL  LUVET

The same official had remained cloistered in his cramped cabin (private quarters) for the remainder of the journey, with always his head buried deep in documents. The crew went about their business efficiently but edgily in that tense, pervading (all encompassing) atmosphere.

Earlier Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had been told that, for security reasons, his true identity had not been disclosed to anyone on board, it seemed to Nevetsecnuac; thus, Zunrogo’s presence alone was sufficient grounds to put everyone on their unease (tenterhooks), including the official, with his self-imposed confinement. Nevertheless, for the next several days their journey passed uneventfully, as both the river current, and the wind sped them downstream until, at the crack of dawn on one overcast day, the government craft safely moored at the designated slip in Kenzor harbor. Had it not been for the vessel's urgent need for repairs, Zunrogo, without a moment's hesitation, would have confiscated the craft for the rest of the voyage and pressed on.  Instead, by the time it took Fradel and Zunrogo to consume a satisfying hot breakfast at one of the prospering tea houses, Tizan had expeditiously booked another passenger boat and had their luggage transferred aboard, ready for their prompt (summary) departure.

Later that same morning, when they set off for the Capital, there were only few other boats sharing their course (headed the same way).  By noon the fair-weather-wind, rolling down the river valley from the north had again picked up momentum (speed). To take full advantage, their swift, modern craft at once hoisted its triangular sails and, instantly picking up speed, in no time at all put a considerable distance between them and the rest of the riverboats, save one.  This one seemed to be persistently keeping up the pace.

On the subsequent days this same north wind brought down drizzling rain and fog so dense that the riverbanks became virtually invisible. Then the blustery weather picking up force, out of nowhere herded in, a dark mass of clouds that turned midday into dusk.  The river water, churned by the tempest wind speed, broke up into rolling, silvery waves that tossed snowy foam onto the deck, perpetually rocking the craft until the dowels and bindings that held the craft together were strained to the breaking point.

The captain of the vessel, Ortusz Doku, responding to the petitions of his other, sickened passengers and, the insistence of his crew, bent on his knees before Zunrogo to obtain his permission to steer the craft into a safe harbor before the boat was battered apart by the storm.

Neither Zunrogo nor Tizan were affected in the least bit by the incessant rocking of the boat.  Frowning and cursing, Zunrogo denigrated Ortusz with his cutting words until the captain, his pride sorely bruised, made to leave.  But then Zunrogo (on second thought) relented and gave his consent.  Soon after the vessel was expertly steered through the blinding rain into a bend in the river where the anchor was cast, and the ship moored fast by strong ropes to huge trees onshore. Just in time too, for suddenly strong, gale force winds sprang up as the worst of the storm hit. The vessel, safely moored, still was violently, unmercifully rocked, like it was but a toy.  The waves beat against the shore in an angry uproar as torrential, pelting rains drenched everything to the core.  Thankfully, the precautions they had just taken enabled the boat to ride out the storm and sustain only minimal damage.

During this grueling episode, akin (like) other passengers, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had fought off the terrible motion sickness; but then, under the watchful eye of Zunrogo Tugo, reluctantly had taken some medicated wine at Tugo’s insistence, which in fact aside from some troubling side-effects, had alleviated (assuaged) his discomfort.  In this partially vulnerable state, chiefly to get his mind off his ailment, he had, moreover, dashed off a few lines of verse about boats and storms.  The brilliance of poetry composed in such dire straits won him Zunrogo’s great admiration and, in due course, eliminated the Captain of the Palace Guard's last (ounce) residue of suspicion. 

Finally (on the third day), when the storm abated, the boat was made ready, with improvised improvements to, just before noon, cast off.

As the journey continued it appeared to an observer, looking only at the deceptive shroud of congeniality spread by Fradel Rurik Korvald and Zunrogo that they were conversing frankly, without the least inhibition.  Yet, after hours of conversation, Zunrogo had to admit that he found this stimulating intellectual sparring more exhilarating, more closely akin to combating a powerful foe on the battlefield and, he began to crave more of it.

Nevetsecnuac’s assumed, present identity had seriously constrained (curtailed) his abilities, forcing him to adapt to more shrewd and indirect means; and so, while seemingly obliging Captain Zunrogo, he used this opportunity instead, to explore (delve deeper into) Captain's innate nature and, extracted from Zunrogo, few, well-guarded detrimental weaknesses and flaws.  Once this was accomplished Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) relaxed his vigil, as he much preferred fighting any formidable foe directly, by way of (via) tangible (physical) combat.

As both Nevtsecnuac and Zunrogo possessed remarkable staying powers, the ensued lively exchange utilizing acumen, wits, and stratagem (subterfuge), had continued well into the night, with no possibility of satisfactory cessation.  There came a time, however, upon discussing a particular concern, after several fruitless turns and diversionary strategies, Zunrogo (the undefeated champion) was forced to, for a spell, capitulate Fradel's point of view.

04- - CAPTAIN ZUNROGO TUGO JP 2

And though Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) at present, incurred deep respect for his brilliance from Zunrogo, captain not being one to cede, with renewed zeal (fervor) he quickly revised his stance (estimation, viewpoint) and retaliated.  His irrefutable logic (analysis) gave him the added edge and, following this up with an all-out offensive, he achieved his absolute victory.  Fradel could have still challenged some of the seemingly unequivocal deductions, but with due practicality, he instead, gracefully conceded to defeat.

Fradel's mind, meanwhile, had been all along distracted by other matters, one of which was their pursuer.  Even though the ensuing (following) vessel had been temporarily lost to sight in the storm, Fradel hypothesized that it would again catch up to them in a day or two after the weather abated.

Several times Fradel, having concluded that it was Lance Diostin; he had wanted to drop that name casually in conversation, to observe Zunrogo’s reaction.  Each time however deciding otherwise, he’d held his tongue in check.

For what possible reason could he give for even knowing the name Lance Diostin?  More importantly, there had been this nagging feeling that he had harbored since they boarded this vessel.  There was more at stake here than what met the eye, more vital and sinister than the threat to his life.  What it was, unfortunately, he had not yet ascertained, and its nature kept eluding him.

 On this particular concern, Fradel's otherwise foolproof methods of inquiry had met an impenetrable wall erected by Zunrogo.  Even after Fradel had yielded the argument to drop latter’s guard, Zunrogo had held on fast to this secret with unusual grit and tenacity.  Fradel could gain no grasp of the actual situation and was left, in the end, with only his unsubstantiated intuition.

                                                                                       ~

Later that night, Fradel fortuitously happened on a confidential conversation between Zunrogo and Tizan and caught a singular reference being made to Lance Diostin's martial prowess.  Fradel was intrigued, to say the least, by Zunrogo’s respectful references to his adversary.

Was Lance Diostin such a competent foe that he cast a doubt in Zunrogo’s heart?  Keeping his hand poised above the door's handle, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) eavesdropped for a longer spell.

From the disjointed, coded then decoded fragments that were being discussed Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) deduced that Tizan had previously sighted Lance Diostin at Kenzor harbor and Zunrogo had arrived at a similar conclusion as his (Nevetsecnuac),

That Lance Diostin’s craft was indeed trailing them.

Nevetsecnuac further suspected that once the storm had abated the enemy vessel (craft) would swiftly descend upon them for that decisive fray. Despite his readiness however, his intuition (the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach) forewarned him that there was far more at stake here than Zunrogo let on.

Zunrogo was about to instruct Tizan on the finer points of the strategic defenses, that were to be utilized against Lance Diostin’s impending assaults, when Fradel Rurik Korvald's sudden knock at the door startled them both. 

Fradel quickly dispensing with the polite preliminaries took the seat offered to him across from the captain.  Getting right to the point and feigning ignorance, he then confessed to overhearing the name of Lance Diostin as he was about to knock on the door and, audaciously, inquired after the information associated with that name.

Zunrogo's reluctant and evasive answers further piqued Nevetsecnuac’s (Fradel's) curiosity; he, nevertheless, letting it go, pretended to have been satisfied with Captain's makeshift explanations.  Fradel quickly stated what he had originally come to say, and then abruptly rose to bade them good night and then hastily withdrew.

Back in his cabin, with many concerns praying on his mind, Nevetsecnuac did not (immediately) go to bed, instead, he set down in comfortable chair and reflected on the past exchange between Zhadol and Yennic.  As far as he could tell, there were three reasons to account for Lance Diostin's pursuit: a feud between the two factions; Dwengzu's prediction that, should Fradel Rurik Korvald be allowed to reach Channing, it would bring about Egil Viggoaries’s premature death (or, serious downfall); and some third reason which still eluded him.  His thoughts then reverted to Yennic’s (blatant) unabashed approval, when he was informed that Lance Diostin would be guarding the river route.

Thinking of the upcoming confrontation between Zunrogo and Lance Diostin, Fradel grinned wryly.  “That should prove rather interesting, though I doubt that I, Fradel Rurik Korvald, will be allowed to witness this remarkable combat. Yet, what if both Zunrogo and Tizan, despite their combined effort, can’t…? “He lowered his eyes thoughtfully and tersely drummed his fingers on the chair arm.

05- NEVETSECNUAC  JP 23

“It is conceivable that they might not measure up to the task.  What then?”  Nevetsecnuac reflected short time later, recalling Zunrogo's apparent anxiety when he had casually mentioned Lance Diostin’s name, to him. “What if they did indeed succumb to the prowess of this formidable foe?  If that is the case, I'll be constrained to fend for myself and then eliminate all who witnessed the fighting.  More slaughter!”  He shifted uneasily into the chair.

Aside from the vessel's Captain, Doku, and his crew and their own party, there were four other passengers on board: a young couple with an infant son and a reserved, semi-retired official.  The rest had good fortune to leave the river boat after the storm and preceded the rest of their way on land.  The remaining passengers kept very much to themselves and, for the most part, stayed in their cabins.

“If the circumstances dictate it, would I have the heart?” He knew he would not.

 “There was only one option, the only alternative choice, for him to take; yes,” he nodded decisively.                          

                                                                                      ~

 

The last remnants of the storm had finally abated at dawn, leaving the river a bit more swollen and the currents in the center a touch faster.

As Zunrogo and Fradel had (independently) forecasted, two days later the sail of the pursuing craft was spotted for a split second, bearing swiftly down on them from the distance, just before the river turned to hide them once more.  Accepting Zunrogo's reluctance to discuss the matter, Fradel, acting as though he had seen nothing, occupied himself with the typical scholarly concerns of reading and composing while discreetly noting the flurry of activity among the deck hands. 

They did not see the vessel again for some time after that.

 

 

(END OF SECTION 26)

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 3

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 3

Brandt   had never seen Duan use archery, yet in subsequent days, he’d witnessed the other using spare material to painstakingly fashion himself a mighty fine bow and a quiver of arrows. 

Brandt ’s curiosity and poised questions were finally answered when at dusk one day, Duan, still seated at his mount took aim at the sky and let loose the single arrow.  Brandt   could not even see the target or what it slew (shot, slain, felled). 

“So, he also excels in archery...Hmmm” Brandt   made a mental note of this and spurred his horse to catch up with Duan’s. 

Arriving at the spot tad later, Brandt   saw Duan pick up the felled falcon and retract a piece of note attached to his leg. No amount of pestering loosened Duan’s tongue however, nor did he let Brandt   see the note. He only smirked satisfactorily and informed Brandt   a short time later of the slight change in their direction.

Passing through a grueling and treacherous stretch, now at more level ground, Brandt   likewise whipped his horse into a full gallop.  The result of three full days and nights of riding at lightning   speed eventually brought them to a crossroads.

 Duan stretched his neck this way and that, holding his gaze in each direction at length and then charged resolutely westward. As Brandt   followed in silence, he queried how Duan had arrived at (attained) that conclusion with such obvious certainty.  He racked his brains to comprehend the existing clues or logic that had so mysteriously averted him.  Having reached the end of his patience with Duan's arrogance however, he cared not to place himself in the position of subservience and voiced no such inquiry.  But, once more an insidious smile related Duan’s surmised notion of what was weighing on Brandt’s mind.

 Subsequent days their path cut across still more difficult terrain; before long the deep canyon, the surrounding topography had taken on a rather sinister turn. At one point, as they passed through a particularly deep gorge, Duan’s unexpectedly alert demeanor alarmed Brandt. 

Duan now strung tighter than a bow, with his very being exuding such an air of foreboding, his intense gaze perpetually swept the looming cliffs.  Brandt’s inward queries were promptly answered however, when on several instances on Duan’s signal and nimble action, man and mount barely escaped that certain catastrophe of being buried alive, when massive amounts of dislodged rocks suddenly cascaded down on them. 

Long after, when they seemingly reached a safer passage, Duan had kept up with his vigil and pressed them hard to advance with that speed to cover still great distance.

“This isn’t your typical joyride.” He’d scoffed at Brandt’s silent protests and despite Brandt’s obvious exhaustion, refused least notion of pitching camp.  On this continuous trek they, while still in the saddle ingested some of their rather unpalatable, scant dried rations and rarely out of consideration for their mounts, had a brief repose in a crevice of sorts in this desolate (bleak) region where nothing stirred, with Duan upholding his vigilance against that phantom enemy’s assault.

Brandt   was becoming more incensed (exasperated) with each leg of the journey suspecting Duan with his spiteful nature to be conceiving (inventing) this unwarranted trouble, to further torment him, when suddenly they were under attack. 

Once the unnatural dust storm settled, all at once they’d found themselves surrounded by thirty well-armed, formidable riders completely covered in black garb, with only slits that made their eyes visible.  Brandt   had scant time to unsheathe his sword when the awesome, agile force spontaneously and in all directions, in a brilliant, lightening   maneuver, launched their murderous offensives (assault). 

Brandt   had always been quite adept at fighting but in this instance, he’d soon found himself outmatched in both skill and ability. Or had he?  For reasons known only to him, Brandt   held back and allowed Duan to demonstrate the true extent of his prowess. 

Rising to this challenge Duan with his invincible skill, quickly turned the tide in his favor. In a blinking of an eye, all assailants were vanquished, and men and mounts lay dead maimed and torn in bloody heaps.

The fortnight’s subsequent nocturnal assaults were even more lethal. Just as swiftly however, Duan bested them all; then in small hours, gathering the wounded and piling those atop the heap of torn, bloody corpses, he set them all alight. Making himself comfortable on a large flat bolder, he then watched this funeral pyre with intense perverse delight, occasionally letting out a boisterous laugh as if entertaining a private joke.

The rising smell made Brandt   retch and vomit till he was expanded from the exertion; maddeningly, this too compounded Duan’s wicked fun.

After the fourth and fifth major, deadly skirmishes, Brandt   had gained the sudden intense fear of Duan, as if just grasping the true measure of this Demon warrior’s proficiency.  Especially since all their previous adventures and exchanges had paled in comparison to these feats.  Despite his sham indifference however, the swift, shocking intensity and the near misses of the final mortal combat unequivocally rattled Brandt   to the core. Consequently, Duan was more intolerable, as he relentlessly mocked Brandt   with his contemptuous words, looks and gestures, till eventually he got tired of it. 

A few weeks later, another falcon was felled by Duan, then another sometime after that. In each instance a note was retrieved from the leg of the predatory bird, and again, Duan refused to disclose the contents to Brandt.  Infuriatingly still, any hope of a peek (stealing a look) was promptly eliminated when Duan routinely fed the contents to the hungry flames of the night’s makeshift campfire.

Then one evening   as they were about to fall asleep, “You can rest easy now; I doubt there’ll be any more messages.”  With his back to Brandt, he’d grumbled his sardonic, curt response to other’s evermore persistent inward queries.

In the subsequent month, the ongoing arduous trek had eventually led the two to another set of foothills beyond which lay a range of white capped mountains.  Descending then ascending the endless precipitous peaks and depths, they skirted ravines, gullies or cliffs, then negotiated inclines to eventually arrive at the remotest, darkest and most sinister of forests where ancient trees entirely blocked out the sky turning   night into day.

 In this twilight atmosphere they followed paths that no man before them had dared to tread.  All the while the immeasurable peril dogged their every step. Dangers abound from above and below, ahead and beyond, their mettle was tested, at times without cessation for weeks on end.  With their innate competence and stubborn resolve, they overcame each one of these hair-raising episodes and dealt effectively with the other peril from voracious, predatory beasts.

Occasionally their advance would be hindered by violent storms that erupted quite suddenly yet lasted for days.  During such times they attained shelter in nearby caves, crevices or caverns after contesting for space with the prior occupants (original inhabitants).

As they climbed (ascended) to still higher altitudes, with each leg of the journey the atmospheric temperatures became more hazardous.  With the overhead sky perpetually riddled with dark, ominous clouds that hung ponderously overhead, they trod uneasily over the precarious ground that oftentimes would be littered with intermittent pits blanketed with patches of ice or snow of varying degrees smoothing over the imperfections.

 All was not doom and gloom however, and on scant clear days, with the surrounding area and tall trees cloaked in exhilarating, blinding white, it admittedly transformed the glistening   environs into a mythological, fabled place of great beauty. The brilliance of light was so intense in fact that they advanced through this fabulous ice hinterland with only partially covered eyes, seeing only through slits.

The makeshift attire from pelts obtained from the hunted predatory beasts kept the core of their body warm. Meanwhile, (in addition to melted ice,) they drunk the blood of the game for satiating (quenching) thirst, and for sustenance, never lacking for food, Brandt   in time even grew accustomed to chomping on raw meat, or for variety, nibbled on some of the amassed, dried roots. When hiking over a particularly perilous icy terrain, man and beast (steeds) wore underfoot an ingenious contraption that Duan had appropriately devised to prevent slipping and sliding or worse, falling through the cracks/ pits in the snow and being buried alive.  Moreover, to ensure further stability, they made good use of ropes and iron pegs when their ascending path led them to tapered goat-trails hugging the sheer inclines. 

To Duan’s surprise, Brandt   had born all these hardships stoically, except for altitude sickness that is, that oftentimes plagued Brandt   when crossing a precarious, natural viaduct (overpass) over gargantuan (vast) debts or other such risky terrain with equally dizzying gradient (incline) to one side. 

On such instances Brandt   would have gladly traded places with their blindfolded mounts, to be spared the apprehension and the dire imaginings; especially since his discomfort without fail was augmented by Duan’s derisive, contemptuous remarks or his silent cold regard. 

Day after day, as though pulled by a magnet, they pushed (trudged) on relentlessly and unfailingly at top speed, superseding (overriding) countless dangers and hardships, Brandt   doing his best to keep up with Duan. 

Though they’d done what was humanly impossible and covered such a great distance in that short time, far from being pleased, at one point Duan had appeared in fact, quite irritable and somewhat dismayed.  Then one day, leaving Brandt   at a makeshift camp in an abandoned cave, Duan without so much as a word had set off alone on foot in search of a phantom path. He must have ventured far, for he’d remained hidden from sight (view) awfully long period.

 Brandt   left to fend for himself, first had prudently solidified his defenses, kept the fires going and guarded the steeds and their reserves best as he could, from the marauding, (prowling) ravenous beasts. By the fourth or fifth day, however, Brandt   had begun to get seriously peeved, for having been treated same as a groom when, late one afternoon, Duan quite unexpectedly had reappeared.  Without so much as a grunt, he plumped himself by the fire, partook of some of the skewered meat, then reclining   passed out in sound sleep. When at just before dawn he promptly awoke, he spared no effort to explain; only his words tersely directed Brandt   to follow him.

Even before the first rays of light reached the earth, Duan and Brandt   taking the lead, steered their reluctant mounts further into the densest part of the pine forest.  Previous night’s storm (blizzard) had dumped abundant snow in the vicinity forcing them to now advance with immense difficulty through the copiously covered ground and shrubbery.

They rode whenever possible, but oftentimes dismounting, they dug their way through waist deep rough patches. Their several days’ laborious advance eventually came to an abrupt halt one afternoon just before dusk, when they suddenly faced, what seemed to Brandt, a rising cliff. He watched with skepticism as Duan, veering around a huge boulder quickly alighted. A pointed look quickly brought Brandt   to his side. Stalwart duo exerting some effort in next to no time cleared a fallen tree and similar debris, pushed aside tall, seemingly impenetrable ice capped dense shrubbery to uncover an inconceivable niche that turned out to be an entrance to a pitch-dark subterranean tunnel that passed through to the other side of the mountain.

Brandt’s elation was short lived however, for the upcoming perilous journey was far more harrowing than the culminating previous encounters.  Right at the beginning   Duan had counseled him on the necessity of maintaining absolute silence.

The horses’ eyes covered, and mouths muzzled, with Duan in the lead they’d steadfastly advanced in darkness, connected by a rope, Duan periodically (now and again) slashing the air with his blade to dispatch the persistent dangers. 

They must have trudged incessantly for days in that grueling, subterranean labyrinth, for every tendon, every fabric of Brandt’s body throbbed with an unbearable ache.  After what it seemed to Brandt an eternity, they’d eventually emerged from this nightmarish tunnel.  Brandt   was so overjoyed at having survived this terrible ordeal that, braving Duan’s derision, he’d simply throw himself onto the ground and hugged it.

The rest of the journey, though still grueling, by comparison had passed far easier.

 

                                                                      ~

 

(END OF SECTION 3)