12- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE PORTENDED PERIL - SECTION 3

At this point Sovereign Zakhertan was startled awake by the howls of human voices; covered in sweat and gasping for breath he at once sprang to a sitting position in bed. His stern gaze now hinged on the fast asleep Sejon, who lay peacefully curled up beside him with that infuriating complacent broad smile plastered on her rosy lips, Zakhertan contemptuously scoffed and looked away.

01- LADY  SEJON  ASLEEP  (91) b

On second thought, as he had brushed aside his dark thoughts, Zakhertan’s eyesight had unpredictably just then clouded over, and his head same time began to swim. Subsequently, a strange purplish miasma filled the room, and when it parted, it revealed the floating, deceased Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir, surrounded by the murdered Princes, their Royal robes all drenched in blood. All the Princes pointing at him with accusatory glare, they called out with silent screams, to be avenged and demanded an immediate, ignominious end to Zakhertan's life.

Outside the chamber violent gusts of wind shook the walls, threatening their imminent collapse. Zakhertan quickly getting a grip on his senses however, jumped up from the bed and, grabbing the hilt of his State Sword, blade now unsheathed, he began stabbing and hacking at the apparitions, only to strike the empty air.

"What is it, my Liege?"  Sejon having just then awakened, her gentle, sweet voice recalled Zakhertan back to reason (sense, sanity).

 "Are you having another terrible nightmare My Lord?" Her subsequent hypocritical angst and persistent queries however, grated on Zakhertan’s nerves and so, his icy fierce glare just then pivoted on her, froze the very life’s blood circulating in her veins. She winced, her tongue stilled, she quickly retreated (withdrew) back into the shadows to conceal her involuntary quaking.

At his point, catching his reflection in the large bronze mirror and realizing his almost humorous state, Zakhertan Yozdek grimaced then, with a huff of derision turned his back to her.

02-  ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (74)

 ~

 

Subsequently, Zakhertan mounted on Night Thunder and riding like the wind, at no time at all, he was back at the North Palace. Though he did not give much credence to superstition, the incredible consistency of prince Herleif’s predictions (the sudden manifestation of a new star which outshone that of present regimes, plus the prophesized resurgence of the old Dynasty after the cataclysmic upheaval and subjugation of Wenjenkun) in conjunction with Zakhertan’s most recent nightmare were such that, they could not be so perfunctorily dismissed.  Both had forecasted the actualization of Zakhertan’s long time innate dread:

That one day a serious peril to his existence would arise from a loyalist assassin or forces colluding with his eternal bane and ardent nemesis Lord Asger Marrog Zhon, who had not only to date successfully eluded (evaded) capture, but had also in all probability, shielded and fostered the last carrier of royal blood, the grandson of Late Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir.  Therefore, Zakhertan had good reason to feel ill at ease, for Prince Nevetsecnuac Valamir would be somewhere in his twenties by now; and, if not him, the prince was old enough to have (fathered) spawned other fair-haired (blond) princelings, one of whom could be the prophesized star that would outshine his in the constellation.

That aside, Fradel Rurik Korvald’s strange appearance in his dream, regardless, had at present marked the passive/ aggressive Scholar for certain ignominious death… Zakhertan, whose life these last few months had been sedentary (indolent, lethargic), he’d been languorous far too long, akin a voracious (insatiable) feline on a hunt for a perspective prey (a mouse, a bird) now, was very much elated (ecstatic) at the chance of hunting, though firstly toying with, this allusive yet noteworthy scholar (the game, target).

Hmm… Zakhertan grimaced (smirked) viciously, A secret summons from the PM, few days prior to the original date, should suffice.

Subsequently, Zakhertan’s thoughts moved to far more irksome concern, namely Qarzten Caimund. Now, why had Qarzten appeared as a traitor in his dream? This had puzzled Zakhertan for, despite his inner foreboding (apprehension), he was (absolutely) certain of the Senior Grand Secretaries’ loyalty.

Would perchance there be an unforeseen future act or event that would cause Qarzten to shift (vary, change) his allegiance to him (Zakhertan)?

  No! after a spell, Zakhertan doggedly (resolutely) shook his head to purge the gnawing bud of suspicion and the consequent dangerous prescience (forethought) from his mind, for as far back as he could remember, he’d always held the firm belief that all men, despite the circumstances or the meddling of the mighty Gods in Heaven, could still chart, sway or alter their own fate; and consequently, should be held directly responsible for that which befell them. 

03- QARZTEN CAMUND (8)jD jp

 Mindful of the recent aberrant events Zakhertan nevertheless considered that it might be more prudent if he recalled Qarzten to the Capital immediately, where he could be (monitored) kept under closer scrutiny. As for the other urgent matter, the (almost) impossible task Qarzten was to oversee after resolving the situation in Bacau and Subain… well perhaps the task could be deferred to another, and Zakhertan had just the person in mind. As it were, Zakhertan could not entirely root out all suspicion from his heart; he believed that the more improbable a thing, the more likely it would happen (transpire); especially with one as resourceful (a vassal) as Qarzten, who would be the perfect candidate to betray him. But then, on second thought, Zakhertan Yozdek quickly (abruptly) rescinded that resolve.

No, it must not be put off; moreover, it was imperative that the precarious situation was discreetly and promptly brought under control; and who better than Qarzten Caimund to manage (handle) that arduous task. Admittedly, Qarzten was still the most competent one for the job; besides which, his hasty recall to the Capital might be the very catalyst that would accelerate or fulfill the dream prophesy; or would it be his (Zakhertan’s) inaction itself that might be the harbinger of evil?

To his further annoyance, Zakhertan Yozdek had just then realized how much despite all, he still depended on Qarzten Caimund’s rare abilities; neither could he deny the strange affinity and near admiration he felt for the Senior Grand Secretary. Zakhertan nevertheless, after a brief consideration settled on sending a covert elite group to monitor Qarzten’s activities and, upon receipt of their report, then take the appropriate action to deal with Qarzten Caimund.

Zakhertan’s thoughts turning next to Lenny Sukzor, a wry grin briefly manifested on his lips; Lenny had proven thus far to be both competent and incorruptible, quite the same way as Qarzten Caimund once had. Despite this, Lenny’ future advancement still depended on his competence at handling this most difficult tasks ahead.

Bearing in mind just then, that in few minutes time he would have to conduct the morning audience, Zakhertan picked up his pace and entering his private quarters, had a brief wash, had a change of clothing, and quickly breakfasted, before heading out again.

 

                                                                              ~

 

Egil Viggoaries quite unperturbed by the previous night’s minor setback of Nijel Pinng’s sudden demise, had typically enjoyed himself this late afternoon at an impromptu shindig.  Much earlier on, a highly acclaimed soothsayer had been abducted, of which there was no scarcity in the Capital since the disappearance of the Mighty Dwengzur, to cast a prediction for them. The mystic warrior Kekos, who happened to be an old veteran priest, a sole survivor, of one of the long ago eradicated (abolished, eliminated) religions, though he seemed ageless, had survived these many years by being adaptable and therefore, now served as an innocuous priest to one of the lesser known, though sanctioned religions in Channing.  

04- SEER KEKOS  -23JP

When the mystic warrior Kekos, cast the oracle bones and then looked over to see their outcome, he had grown ashen of face, akin that of the previous mystic Morke, who had the misfortune of not too long ago casting similar oracle bones at another one of Egil Viggoaries’s bashes. Though quite unsurpassed in the accuracy of his divinations (prophesies) Morke had made the singular mistake of being forthright about the dire predictions and this had consequently, soured (tainted) their night’s enjoyment. Outraged Egil Viggoaries (being quite intolerant of any such disparaging thought/belief to foster and take root during one of his notorious letting-off-steam bashes) had hence, condemned the poor unfortunate soothsayer that very night to a most lingering and cruel end. Of course, the subsequent day Morke’s demise had been routinely covered up and made to look quite accidental on the official records. With a similar fate facing Kekos at present, how could he find the courage to speak of the ominous revelations of the oracle bones before him? Hence concealing at once his dread, his left foot with one agile shove, had misaligned (garbled, jumbled) the two specific bones so as to alter the outcome and make it more ambiguous.

Egil Viggoaries who had in fact some clear understanding of the oracle bones readings and an even quicker eye than the talented seer, had observed Keko’s desperate attempt (an unforgivable breach) to deceive him, only he chose not to let on and later still, before the evening’s entertainment got fully underway, had allowed the soothsayer warrior Kakos to return in safety to his humble abode in the shrine. 

At first Kekos could not believe in his good fortune, that he had been spared the Dark Eunuch's wrath; as the night progressed and sleep averted him however, with that night’s events still running through his mind, the more he thought about those (seemingly) insignificant gestures and innuendos, the more imminent became his portended doom. When the bones had been cast and just before his foot had misaligned them, the vivid recollection of that unmistakable fleeting glimmer of recognition in Viggoaries’s eyes revealing that he had understood far more than he let on, still wildly palpitated Kekos’s heart. And after Kekos had been granted leave and he bowed to the Dark Eunuch in farewell, the latter’s unforgettable, ephemeral cold calculating glance, even now sent spasms of shiver through Keko’s spine.

Kekos presently breaking into cold sweat and dismally gazing at the dark ceiling, he inhaled a forlorn, elongated breath and then let out a dejected, mournful sigh. There was no need to cast another prediction! Unable to erase that rancorous stare from his mind, he knew despite his present good health, he would not last another day. He had heard of the Egil Viggoaries’s abhorrent ways and knowing what awaited him the next day, he desired more than anything to rob the malevolent Dark Eunuch of his perverse pleasure. Why should he wait for the odious end, which would most certainly befall him. He had considered for a spell of fleeing, but where would he run to, he had no family, no other affiliates of the old order he could seek shelter with. All had been vanquished long ago; he was the sole survivor of an old religious order that no longer was.

05- KEKOS

Kekos walked over and gazed at his physical reflection a long while in the tall brass mirror mounted on the wall; by all accounts his bearing was still solid, muscular (burly, strong) but he knew it was all a sham, for he inwardly felt that he lacked his old resilient, invincible vitality, he was no longer the warrior priest of certain prowess, that he had once been…Years had been particularly cruel to him, gradually wearing down his strength and stamina. Suddenly Kekos, now seated at the edge of his bed, felt extremely tired of his prolong, lonely existence. It was time for him to join his ghost (specter) friends. Resigned to his ill fate therefore, two hours after midnight (well before pre-dawn) he walked over to his desk, then after lighting a ceresin lamp, quietly and routinely set all his affairs in order. After his prayers at the shrine, he then one last time climbed in under the warm quilt, closed his eyes, and then lay perfectly still, awaiting his end.

As his mind a powerful tool willed his demise, naturally in the small hours of the night, only an hour after he’d gone to bed, fever took him and he suddenly fell gravely ill; but the following morning at sunrise, his mysterious ailment could not be accurately diagnosed, and his condition steadily worsened despite any treatment he received. Finally, by mid morning his organs having failed him altogether, seer/ warrior Kekos was spared further torment and tragically passed away.

Egil Viggoaries was getting ready for the private late-morning audience with the Sovereign Zakhertan when the news of the soothsayer's demise reached his ears. Evil leer on his lips, he derisively chuckled: “Already I am so feared that a mere look is enough to kill a man. What need have I, of any assassins?”

A special dispatch marked urgent was delivered to Egil Viggoaries just then; recognizing the seal on it, he dismissed the guard who delivered it and sat down at his desk. After breaking the seal, he withdrew the contents from it and read it. The letter was from Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple. Finally, his ardent nemesis’s whereabouts had been found! A vicious, broad grin registered on Egil Viggoaries’s lips. He elatedly jumped up, most anxious now, to see Zakhertan Yozdek and to secure (gain) permission for an extended leave. He would personally manage this important matter and, the sooner he departed Channing the better!

                                                                                        

                                                                                    ~

(END OF SECTION 3) 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 9

 Nevetsecnuac, having decided to meet Zaur halfway then, more clearly proceeded to solicit (request) Zaur Stugr's help, "If it would not be too much of an imposition (trouble) Minister Stugr, perhaps you could entrust it to the proper authorities so that, in keeping with my promise to Yakkasar, it may be returned to the pit in question.  I would be most appreciative if you would inform me also of the further developments, especially ones leading to resolving this rather intriguing (fascinating) mystery."

Expressing moderate curiosity, Zaur Stugr graciously accepted the task of handling this trivial matter at his earliest convenience. 

01 ZAUR STUGR JP 12

"And perhaps there may be other historical artifacts that would be of importance, warranting excavation at the site." he smiled mischievously. Then as if in an afterthought, Zaur gravely added, "Of course this province is riddled with many such graves and pits of varying sizes, containing skeletons, corpses of indicted dissidents, cadaver of convicts and traitors, whom all of course, richly deserved their ill fate.”

“In any case best to be prudent, with this investigation and in enlisting help. Then there is the requirement for a permit, which I must attain, from the works department. But I may need more data…”   He abruptly looked up at Fradel.

After a seeming hesitancy and purposeful pause, proclaiming that he needed this in case the authorities questioned him on it, Zaur urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to jog his memory about the specifics of the topography or any other identifying landmarks in the vicinity of the pass which may assist in quicker resolve or at least, an educated guess as to its location.

Fradel agreed to this, with a lowered head, pretended to be lost in deep thought for a time, presumably jogging his memory.

 Zaur (with a puckered brow) grimacing, studied Fradel for a moment; then with an affable tone, introduced a suggestion. "This may help; from the details you've offered already, I've deduced that it could be Kneco, Cyprecox, or Yeruz Pass."

Nevetsecnuac pretending to have just then recollected some pertinent facts, cried out, " Yes, that's it, the very one. I remember now.  It was the Cyprecox Pass that Yakkasar was headed for.  Though he did refer to Kneco Pass, it was at a different time and in an entirely unrelated context."

"Now you're quite certain about this?" Zaur studied Fradel with concealed anxiety.

"Quite certain," Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reaffirmed then, pretending that he'd remembered more of what Yakkasar had told him, readily volunteered (furnished) more specifics (details) regarding the location, much to Zaur's satisfaction.

"Well, this night's conversation has been quite dynamic and rather fruitful (productive).  Thank you for presenting me with this most intriguing opportunity; I'll do all that I can to resolve this mystery for you." Zaur Stugr promised earnestly, quickly dismissing Fradel’s uttered, profuse gratitude.

Smiling affably, he then begged Fradel's indulgence and patience, cautioning the scholar not to get his hopes up too high, for the truth once uncovered, might not be as enriching or colorful as supposed (or imagined).

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) politely yawned to express his fatigue, and then quickly proposed (suggested) that they should retire for the night.

Finding this most agreeable, Zaur signaled for the servant in attendance, to have the repast be cleared soon as they left; after which he solicitously (ushered) escorted Fradel to his sleeping quarters, before retiring himself to his own suite.

                                                                                               ~

Short time later, when all were tucked and happily sleeping under their warm quilts, Zaur Stugr quietly rose from his bed and going over, retrieved a small flagon (flask) he kept in the second drawer of the night table. Removing the seal, he gulped (ingested), enough of the special tonic, which quickly (in a short span) deleted the ill effects of excessive drinking and restored one’s full faculties.  Zaur next, taking special care not to wake any of his personal servants, washed his face, swiftly changed his clothes and quietly snuck outside.

02- ZAUR STUGR

Though Nevetsecnuac's speculation had come exceedingly close to the truth, he could not have imagined the depth of gravity that this key had held for Zaur Stugr.

Zaur, very much sobered now by his pumping adrenaline, held out a small oil lamp before him to illuminate the way, as he hastily proceeded with determined steps through a maze of hallways and garden paths.  Eventually he arrived at the old study on the far side of the East wing.

The wing had been sealed off ever since Kokone Iver, the previous owner's beloved third concubine committed suicide after being sexually assaulted (violated, raped) by one of, Rujune Iver’s esteemed house guests.  The strange gruesome apparition who had persistently haunted (appeared in) the hallways after her tragic demise, was attributed to her restless, unavenged spirit.

The perpetrator guest rapist, called Lord Nirekel Konuer, had at the time been far too powerful and too well connected to the higher officials; and so, despite Rujune Iver's efforts to bring him to justice, he had escaped punishment.

The subsequent grave rift that had existed as consequence, between Rujune Iver and Lord Nirekel Konuer, had outlasted the culprit Nirekel’s eventual horrific demise from a mysterious, sudden ailment.

 The hostility between the Konuer and Iver Clans had in due course, fostered some violent repercussions; especially since, the rumors concerning Rujune’s visits to a famous shaman in the workers' quarters, and this having something to do with Lord Nirekel’s sudden, macabre death, had persisted for many a year. And despite the absence of any solid evidence, the incidences of savage retributions, the bloodshed continued (to rock the Capital) for quite some length of time to eventually die down. 

But not before Rujune Iver, having been persecuted unmercifully by Lord Nirekel Konuer's ardent cliques, had eventually lost the favor he had at court and, having been subsequently charged with treason, suffered the extreme death penalty.  Unfortunately, this had meant the extinction of his entire clan, including his wife and concubines as well as, all the family's property (estate) being confiscated by the state.  Yet, because of the purported haunting of the East wing, this otherwise exceptional mansion in the heart of the Capital had remained unsold and untenanted (vacant).

Zaur was only a minor official but one with promising future at that time and had just been transferred to a more lucrative posting in the Capital.  Not being superstitious in the least and assured that no senior official wanted the property, he was quick to seize this opportunity and procure Rujune Iver’s magnificent mansion for an affordable price.  Seeing that it was to his advantage to continue, the purported belief in the haunting Zaur gave outward credence to the stories and sealed off the East wing, declaring it off limits to everyone and all his staff.

03-GHOST Kokone Iver  IN THE EAST WING

Then covertly engaging trusted workmen, he had a secret tunnel constructed directly into the unused wing from a niche in the outer wall.  Zaur Stugr’s planning and vigilance had paid off and, unknown to his family and staff, he henceforth had conducted all clandestine matters on these premises.

For over five years now, with none the wiser to the comings and goings, he had been able to establish a vast underground web of alliance and intrigue that had escaped all detection.  This was no small feat for the Sovereign possessed an elite and very effective Secret Police (as well as, the ruthless Black Band Guard Regiment) in addition to the rival spy networks established by Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries (also affiliated with The Black Molochs).

Halting before a tall, green door Minister Zaur Stugr thumbed the keys at his belt and, finding the right one, inhaled deeply to steady him-self before he turned it in the lock.  Lifting the latch, he opened the door softly.  Only the rush of air leaving the room disturbed the quiet of the night.  Stepping inside, his eyes briefly perused the rare antiquities that adorned the shelves, the countless valuable scrolls that were housed in specially constructed wall units that took up two walls all on their own, the plush sofa off in the corner and the desk with its neat pile of documents awaiting his decisions.  Things were exactly as he had left them.  Reassured, he turned and bolted the door behind him. He walked over the desk and opening the top drawer took out the certain (booby trapped) letter his agent Kaelan had delivered to him a week before Fradel Rurik Korvald’s arrival.

He’d been so burdened (engaged) playing host to illustrious scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald in addition to his other Ministerial duties that he had deferred this matter till later time. In truth he was still undecided about what to do about the letter (whom his agent had retrieved from the dead body of the doomed courier Disaidun Agripe otherwise known as Miss Jepipi), which had been the source of Lord Shouzi Yozdek’s blackmail for about two years by The Black Molochs.

Zaur could not help smiling, knowing how infuriated Egil Viggoaries must have been, when word reached him that the letter had been lost to him.  How many must have suffered consequently.

“Unfortunately, the plan had not gone as well as he’d anticipated; for Zunrogo Tugo was still alive and well… Hmm, the cur must have found out about the switch and kept it quiet. “

“Oh well you can’t win them all.”  Zaur shrugged.

“As for the letter…” Zaur shook his head. “It can wait.”  Unfortunately, at present he was too pressed for time to deal with this, when other more pressing matters (issues) and tasks demanded his attention first; and so, he quickly put it back in the top drawer and closed it.

Advancing with deliberate strides, he veered around the long, ornate desk until he reached a specific wall unit on the far wall.

 Holding up the oil lamp, he pulled out one specific scroll and placed it on the desk.  Then, putting his hand into the slot from which he had retrieved the document, he applied a firm pressure with his index finger to a groove in the lower left corner of the exposed wall.  Immediately the entire wall slid noiselessly aside to expose a hidden room behind.

Air tinged with musk rushed out at once to assail his nostrils as pitch darkness greeted his eyes.  Crinkling up his nose, Zaur shook his head.  He had not been in this room for some time and due to obvious neglect, everything was shrouded in an inch deep snow of dust that now whirled about, stirred by the air from the outer study.

“First thing tomorrow I must have Zyerne clean this place up.  This disorder is inexcusable.”

For now, the space was in immediate need of ventilation.  He looked around in the lamplight at the mass of volumes packed up all the walls until he spied on one small window high up next to the ceiling, hidden from the outside by a set of elaborate eaves.

 Striding over, he positioned a sturdy chair beneath the aperture and pried the shutter open just a crack, just enough to let in the fresh air he needed to relieve his lungs of this (ever-present) invasive constriction.  He winced as he reflected how this hidden room had been designed by the long dead original architect more like a vault of an elaborate tomb than a study.  Its purpose had been obvious but, incredibly, Rujune Iver’s demise had come too fast for him to have made use of its contents to his own advantage.  Fortunately for Zaur, these carefully catalogued documents, containing amassed evidence against the most prominent (noble, patrician) aristocratic families and the vast reserve of valuables and cash secreted in this room, had escaped detection by the court's investigators when the property had been confiscated (impounded) by the state.  With his analytical mind, keen sense, and deductive reasoning, Zaur Stugr had been the only one to, shortly after acquiring the property; discover this invaluable chamber's existence.

Stepping down, he walked back to the entrance.  From there he took the familiar measured paces, first straight ahead, then to the left, and then to the right then again left.

About five years ago, he had further discovered several vaults, each laden with cache (stockpiles, hoards) of gold, silver, and jewels, beneath the ingeniously designed, geometric marble- flooring. 

Depending on the combination of serious of consecutive (successive) steps and the pressure put on by one’s own weight, the specific squire floor tile would rise and then move aside to reveal an opening with the descending stairs leading to that specific vault’s contents. 

Right now, however, he was only after one of his own constructions.

Squatting, he placed the lamp off to one side, loosened the specific floor tile with his bare hands, lifted it and dug out a slightly tarnished metal box from its hiding place.  Meticulously, he brushed the dust from it then, with trembling hands, positioned his newly acquired bejeweled key over the keyhole on the box's side.

Suddenly his heart was seized with apprehension.  “What if this key's construction was merely a bizarre coincidence?  What if it did not match this box at all?” 

In the past he had attempted everything he could think of to open this unyielding encasement but without the least bit of success.  The unusual metal, the design and construction of the box had resisted any attempt at tampering with it. 

He exhaled, “Well, there's only one way to find out.”

With certain determination he placed the key into the hole, and, to his great elation, it turned, moving long unused tumblers inside the locking mechanism.  His heart pounded wildly.  At long last it was now within his means to uncover the secret long buried within! 

But then he hesitated, and his expression gradually hardened to mirror his troubled thoughts.

“What if now, after all this time…,” dejectedly he shook his head. 

“Anyhow, what good would it do?”  In his mind's eye he could see the accusing finger stubbornly pointed at him and at the same time a strong sense of foreboding gripped his heart.

“No!  Right or wrong, I could not have confided in Sanzo.  Not after the disclaimer.”

Eventually he picked up the lamp and, rising to his feet once more with the box in his other hand, walked over and sat down (sunk his body) on the plush sofa by the desk.  Absently he stared at the box for some time, affectionately caressing it, letting his fingers trace out the curved indentations which mimicked exactly the design of the key.  He noted how, in one corner they were scaled exactly to the size of the key. “Odd,” he mused, “it’s as if there's a purpose to it.”

 Struck by a sudden intuition, he took the key from the lock and placed it sideways on against the corner, noting how it fit snugly into the carved design.  Inside the box more tumblers moved.

“So, there was a disarming mechanism as well.”  Zaur Stugr was glad he had not rushed to open the obvious booby-trapped box.

A sad, aggrieved (wounded, pained, hurt) expression just then took hold of his features.

“It’s been so long, so very long!”

(END OF SECTION 9)