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)

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 7

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 7

 Unarmed Brandt intrepidly faced Stark and then pointing to Duan's corpse, tersely exclaimed, "Incriminating as this may seem, it affected the desired purpose. Heretofore I had to go along, to earn his trust, knowing he would lead me to you both.  And I had to make it look good during the fight so as to disarm him and gain such an opportunity to assist your Lordship, Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon?”

On saying this Brandt   gave another respectful, though a bit more flamboyant bow to Stark.

Svein, taken by surprise, turned his questioning, hurtful eyes on his uncle:  Asger?  Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon?  Is that who you really are? If so, why have you seen fit to keep this from me in all this time and after all we’ve been through? 

SVEIN

Mindful of Svein's stare, Asger's cold, stanch gaze remained affixed on Brandt.

"If my words prove to be false or misleading, my Lord, you may then consign me to the sword, and I will not cry out of any injustice."  Brandt   paused to cough lightly, clearing his throat, and then continued, "My Lord, I would like to first declare my undying loyalty and allegiance to our late sovereign, Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir and his supporters.  I solemnly swear on my honor and on my ancestor’s grave, to the validity of my claim.”

 In his heart of hearts Brandt   hoped his father and his ancestors would forgive him of this very necessary falsehood! As it were, it had taken all his willpower not to have (choked) gagged on his asserted (avowed), sham oath.  His eyes did not blink staring straight at Lord Asger’s, nor did his earnest tone waver, when he next explained, "I had not chosen to accompany this notorious assassin by (accident) chance, my Lord.”

He paused and then smiled disarmingly, desiring to elicit suspense.  “I was entrusted with this task and pursued this difficult course at the urging of Lord Shonne Gulbrand, when His Lordship had received word from the capital that proper authorities clandestinely had enlisted this assassin Duan to track and murder, your esteemed self. Up until then, the precursors of Duan had presented no real danger and had required no such course of action (drastic recourse)."

Brandt’s reference to Lord Shonne Gulbrand would have easily been dismissed by Svein, had it not been for the slight change in Stark’s (Asger’s) coloration that instigated (incurred) his curiosity.

Perhaps this was unperceived or simply overlooked by Brandt who’d unceasingly continued with his accounts, “I’d pursued Duan covertly for day and a half, until one evening I fell into his adroit ambush.  At sword point I was forced to concoct a convincing tale, chiefly that I too, was dispatched by the authorities, to observe and if need be, fight alongside him for this mission’s success. Lord Shonne Gulbrand with his foresight and seeing to every detail had fortunately furnished me with official looking forgeries. Duan was outraged and threatened to kill me at first, but on a moment's reflection, he stayed his sword poised to strike at my throat and asked to see my credentials plus these so-called instructions.  After brief scrutiny he was ascertained of their authenticity and begrudgingly consented to my company. For reasons known only to him however, he kept the documents on him, in the inner pocket of his upper garment. If you fetch them, these false documents at least will verify part of my story.”

Brandt   had altered the truth only slightly, in fact both Duan and he had been from the very start secretly dispatched from the capital by Lady Lingrace.  She had seen to every possible contingency and provided Brandt   with the documents.  Neither Emperor nor Lord Shonne Gulbrand had anything to do with it.  Her ladyship had insisted Brandt   accompany Duan on this task, and Duan after demanding more payment to compensate for this weak link, had reluctantly agreed to it.

A nod from Stark (Asger) sent Svein over to Duan’s corpse; his upper garment had been discarded during the intense fight, some time prior to his eventual death.  After a brief search, Svein returned with the waxed leather case and handed it over to his uncle. Svein (Asger) kept a close eye on Brandt, as he, after removing the airtight outer casing, briefly examined (perused) the contents of it. Somewhat satisfied, Stark (Asger) simply tucked them away in his side-pocket.

 “You may continue.”  He next commanded Brandt, with still cold indifference.

Brandt   had only guessed where Duan had kept the papers.  Fortunately, they had survived destruction from the slashes of the intense fighting earlier on.

"For over two years, my Lord,” Brandt   pleased with the outcome, continued in earnest.  “I remained undaunted by countless obstacles and hardships that villain had put me through. He left a bloody trail behind of unimaginable horrors. All the while, he took such perverse pleasure at my sufferings.” He closed his eyes fleetingly then shook his head as if to purge dreaded images from his mind.

“I had to adapt my Lord, had to be more like him, till eventually, I gained his confidence and thereafter I gleaned through observance or from whatever few civil words he cast my way, some insight into his strengths and weaknesses.  Do not judge me too harshly my Lord; for had I not timely interceded, albeit in perceived treasonous manner, I'm afraid that competent as you both are, hmm.” Brandt   hesitated for a moment, before putting it more delicately.

 “Let us say, Your Lordship had not yet seen his utmost capacity. He was only toying, biding his time till he unleashed his worst on you both.  Had he chosen to flee…?” Brandt   shook his head dourly.  “Oh, I’ve seen him (in a flash) instantaneously disappear into thin air.  Had he done that and then descended upon your Lordship and company later, the inexorable dire consequences would have indeed weighed heavily on my conscience.  My Lord, he could move like the devil's wind on treetops or through earth, sand and snow leaving no tracks to follow him by.” He looked up squarely at Asger.

"Surely now, your lordship can understand the necessity for all my prior deceit and alleged, dishonorable conduct."

Stark (Asger) was not at all swayed by this remarkable performance; moreover, he suspected Brandt of being far shrewder and wilier an adversary than he led on.

“Hmm, the gravity of our situation (precarious existence) is further burgeoned by the fact that these two has done the impossible; they have succeeded in where that Usurper with all his resources and manpower has failed to do in twenty years.  And why Lord Shonne Gulbrand, why pick him?”   With a stone face, Stark (Asger) inwardly pondered.

STARK (ASGER)

As it were, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, because of the scrutiny from Capital lasting till present, for both their sakes, had remained quite out of touch with Asger or any other existing insurgent groups.

“Yet now he would risk all, undertaking such a perilous feat?” Stark further mused.

His eyes piercing Brandt’s, hmm, he may or may not have accomplices. Stark studied Brandt, while on the outset seemingly taken in, assiduously listened to the rest of latter’s yarn.

This close call had nevertheless, warranted caution and in order to obtain further pertinent data, Stark (Asger) needed time to at length interrogate (grill, probe) this albeit cunning and definitely sly adversary.  Well before this undertaking, however, he needed first to clarify a few more specifics.

"I am inclined to believe you sir. “Stark (Asger), breaking his silence, injected thoughtfully.  "Still, what further proof can you present to win my confidence?"

"That has already been arranged, my Lord.” Brandt   complied respectfully and bluffed.  "After Lord Shonne Gulbrand had assisted your esteemed self's escape, he had, with due discretion, dispensed the necessary funds and manpower to procure the other of your twin swords before it fell into the enemy hands.” Inwardly elated Brandt   congratulated himself, for his quick thinking and postulation (conjecture).  

Lack of any reaction, adverse or otherwise, on Asger’s part had reaffirmed Brandt’s longstanding hypothesis. So, Lord Shonne Gulbrand had a definite hand in Asger’s escape after all!   

Outwardly, meanwhile, Brandt maintained an even tone and continued without cessation.  “His Lordship had done this, with the utmost confidence that one day when the time was ripe; he would present it to your Lordship, perhaps upon your next meeting.” He halted his narrative with a barely discernible hint of a query in his tone.

No? No reaction, none? So, there has been no contact with Lord Shonee Gulbrand since then. Good!

With confidence now, Brandt added. “When it became necessary to send me on this errand however, he entrusted it to me as a means of winning your Lordship's confidence.”

That’s highly unlikely! Stark mused, while pretending to acquiesce.

 “Please examine the sword that now lies on the ground.  I dare not make a move to procure it, lest you’re Lordship and your respected nephew here suspects me of a ruse."  Having said this, he looked directly at Svein with a certain glint in his eyes, a slight semblance of a dare, as he artlessly donned an infuriating, bemused smile.

"There is no need to examine it”, came Stark’s (Asger's) icy response.

 "Svein, please be good enough to retrieve it for me."

"Don't trust him, Uncle.” Svein murmured a warning as he, (recovering it,) handed over the sword.

 Stark (Asger) merely grunted his concurrence then, oblivious to the raging snowstorm, continued to interrogate Brandt further with more penetrating questions. After a time, Asger, seemingly satisfied with Brandt’s responses, appeared by degrees more accepting of Brandt.

 In this entire time, obliging as Brandt was with his answers, not being as hardy (resilient) as Stark and Svein, he had gradually succumbed to the effects of fatigue and cold.

03 -BRANDT DUSTIN

At first, Brandt’s complexion progressively paled; the next instant, in mid-sentence his face gone completely ashen, he’d faltered, swayed on his feet and simply collapsed face down onto the ground already cushioned with thick layer of fresh snow.

 Svein darted over to Brandt’s side. Crouching over the body, he turned Brandt   over and brushed off the snow before examining   Brandt’s vital signs.  Brandt   was clearly unconscious, however still suspecting a ruse; he guardedly examined Brandt’s apparent injuries.  He did have a few serious bruises, lacerations, slight frostbite in fingers and a big bulge, sort of swelling (lump) on top of the head, underneath that mop of hair.

“I suppose the combat, contusion, the strain of inquiry and the elements were all in all too much for him!”  Svein with an air of disdain concluded his findings. 

Stark’s (Asger’s) cursory examination of Brandt’s discarded stiletto (dagger) meanwhile had revealed that the blade had predictably been laced with a rare but very potent poison. Asger’s mind had at once recalled another such incident where this poison had been used with equally dire consequences. 

Concealing his unease however, Stark (Asger) simply nodded; then on his directive, Svein hauled Brandt   over his back and followed his uncle to the stables.

There, they found a comfortable spot for Brandt   to lie, well away from the horse, where they had kept some of the (non-essential) winter supplies. They lit a brazier and stacked it with wood to make sure it would last out the night, then fetching the medicine and such, Asger with due diligence tended to Brandt’s wounds, while Svein at the outside secured both Brandt and Duan’s horses and after a cursory scrub housed them also in the stables alongside Fiery Comet. 

Stark (Asger) had scant reaction to Svein’s subsequent news, that judging by the obvious tracks, Duan’s corpse had already been swiftly carted away by pack of wolves, (if not some hungry predatory beasts); therefore, negating any necessity of a proper burial or pursuit of the remains. 

                                                                                                             

                                                                       ~

 

(END OF SECTION 7)

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 4

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 4

Rising before dawn as usual Stark and the rest had diligently worked to discharge their mundane allocated tasks in this remote mountain dwelling. It was a particularly crisp morning with only wisps of clouds, streaking across the sky and accompanying the emerging sun that promised to shed its golden rays for the entire day.  Yet something was amiss (intuitively wrong); Svein had noted Stark’s particularly distracted mood all during breakfast, and even afterwards when they practiced the routine martial exercises, but he abstained from posing a query. Stark was grateful for this tact; nevertheless, all through practice, amidst varied, intermittent threat (menace) from marauding, voracious predators, and even afterwards as he chopped wood, he could not shake the innate foreboding, that for some time now had doggedly robbed his peace.

There is no point in putting this off any longer, and the sooner the better. Finally heeding his intuition, he buried the blade of the axe firmly in the huge stump, and picking up the last of the kindling, went inside.  At noon he would embark on a mission of reconnaissance of the expanded perimeter, while Svein stayed behind to guard his wife and their infant identical twins, boy and a girl, whom were in fact quite a handful to manage.

Thinking of them as he later packed his gear, Stark could not help but smile. Oh, what a joy they’re to have around, even though they have often robbed their parents and me of a good night’s sleep. 

Their birth had been difficult, but Teuquob had survived the ordeal stoically in the end delivering not one but two blessings from Heaven.   Subsequent month, at the private naming ceremony, they had made the appropriate offerings to the mountain God Rognar and prayed to their ancestors. The twin boy infant’s personal name had been easy to pick; Stark had suggested Alric, and both had readily acquiesced to it as it was by all accounts a very good name. The twin girl’s name selection had been just as easy, as Teuquob had chosen to bestow her own mother’s name Lueling. It was not obligatory to register surnames at this point in time; barring (with the exception of) certain circumstances, it could be delayed till after the adolescence years and at the time of rite of passage.

"Uncle, it is customary, is it not for boys to have a second personal name also? “Svein had surprised Stark, just before the formal ceremony was to take place. “I therefore wish my son’s second name to be Stark."

Stark shook his head, “Though a great honor, it’s not proper….”

Please acquiesce to it uncle, Svein hastily interrupted.”  "I can think of no one more worthy; you have cared for me all these years, been my parent, mentor and protector. I am what I am because of your due diligence and unstinting care. I owe you a debt of gratitude; please allow me this trifling gesture to repay your kindness. I have talked this over with Teuquob and we are both in agreement with this. So please accede.” 

Though Stark was very touched by this gesture, he tried few other names for Svein to use in its stead. In the end he relented and had gratefully accepted this great honor.

Personal names of twins duly registered in a book, the three then had talked joyously and feasted the remainder of the day.

                                                                                                                                                            

                                                                              ~

At vast distance, alas, within that same mountain region (radius), Duan and Brandt   after a long grueling trek, had set up camp in a sheltered area late that afternoon to allow some well-earned respite for their mounts. Familiar with the routine, Brandt unloaded their gear and, wrinkling his nose, proceeded to smear the foul-smelling paste onto the horses, as an effective repellent to any veracious beasts. After which, he left the loosely tethered steeds grazing by a small brook where there was still some sturdy grass poking their heads through the icy ground and he began gathering dry kindling for the fire. Since their food reserves had all but gone, Brandt expected Duan to go on his usual hunt; but instead, he spotted him at some distance climbing to the apex of an ancient tree.

There with his eagle eyes Duan for some time scanned the perimeter.  Eventually he spotted at a far distance an isolated smoke neither growing nor lessening   in size curling up over the tips of a vast forest beyond the next incline.

 Descending swiftly, he then turned with an icy, scathing smile to announce that he had with measure of certainty now pinpointed (located) the prey, and that Brandt s plight was nearly over.

At least that is something! Brandt   turned his head to hide his elation and continued with his gathering of firewood (kindling, brushwood).

                                                                                            ~

The ensuing number of days with renewed enthusiasm Brandt had relentlessly pushed on; however, in the mountains the distances were typically deceptive.  Moreover, as if to taunt Brandt’s endurance, Mother Nature repeatedly unleashed on the entire region countless fierce storms.  Day in and day out the biting winds arising from nowhere, with swirls of snow and debris flailing about, mercilessly (unmercifully) whipped (flayed) their faces. Bracing against this onslaught from the winds and the frigid temperatures, while being frequently blinded by the white veil of snow, hunching their backs and sheltering their eyes, they had relentlessly, with such dogged persistence still pressed on to cover an unbelievable distance. 

Then one day, discerning   that they were now closer in proximity to their objective, Duan drew near and patronizingly directed Brandt to from then on to remain vigilant, adding, “And no more fires; it would not do if we were to be discovered prematurely now!”

The very fact that he needed to say this irked Brandt.  He treats me like an imbecile!

Duan with his cold regard turned to squarely face him. “If the shoe fits!”

DUAN

After a few moments’ silence, however, Duan again dropped his pace and in a gentler voice now succinctly informed Brandt   of the tactical measures they would be adapting for their assured success.

 During that night’s rest (respite), another odd thing, they’d talked over a great many things. Distrustful of Duan’s motives, however, certain misgivings took permanent root in Brandt’s heart especially since he could not fathom the reason for Duan’s sudden civility.

Starting at first light they’d traveled for a few more days, then one afternoon Duan again scaled (climbed) an ancient tree and from the (vintage point at) top, looking this way and that, he at long last detected the certain, barely discernible dwelling in the far distance.

 Next three or four days taking great pains to cover their tracks, they had stealthily advanced in that very direction till late afternoon of the fifth day the certain clearing encircling a wooden structure came into view.

Unrelenting winds all during the day had chilled Brandt   to the very bone; presently looking up and seeing an opening   in the twilight’s azure sky as the clouds have been swept away, "Finally, luck seems to be on our side.” Brandt   optimistically whispered.  "Fate is lending us a hand."

Duan only scoffed and said nothing.

A brief time later, their presence swiftly hidden behind a huge boulder at the edge of dense forest, their mounts muzzled and tethered, they then hunkered down and waited for darkness to descend.

As darkness mantled the earth the partially cloudless sky now became speckled with stars. The reluctant, full moon, frequently took refuge behind the sparse clouds, refusing to give aid to these murderous men engaged in hasty preparations for the kill.

 Howls of the distant gray wolves, roars of snow tigers and other such predatory beasts added to the drama and definite chill in the air. Like (same as) the beasts on the prowl, Duan and Brandt   lurked without the benefit of fire, as the biting cold air froze the tips of their noses and formed rime on their facial hair despite the grueling exertion.

 

Eventually all the lights in the cabin were, one by one extinguished, informing them that the unsuspecting prey had quietly retired beneath their warm quilts. This fact ascertained, Brandt   told to stay put and guard their mounts, with resentment filling his heart, he observed Duan akin to a nocturnal animal possessing a keen eyesight, stealthily advance towards the dwelling.

DUAN

                                           ~                                        

 In truth, beset by a lethal set of bizarre coincidences, this past week had been particularly a grueling one for the inhabitants of the log cabin.  Moreover, three days prior, Stark had been fiercely attacked by a large pack of ravenous wolves; an unlikely event in itself but judging by the severity of the winter storms this year it was to be expected. 

Earlier on that day Stark heeded his strong hunch, and on the point of discovering the intruders’ tracks, he’d encountered instead, a marauding (prowling) voracious mountain lion and had to fend for his dear life. He’d escaped the danger by the skin of his teeth, and as his wounds were grave, he had to swiftly retrace his steps back to the cabin to get patched up.

Stark’s injuries and all serious lacerations precipitously dealt with (tended to), on his insistence when it was feasible for him to do so, Svein had gone out few times to scan the immediate perimeter for any (telltale) signs of unusual activity and portended danger. The remainder of the day they had stayed on high alert even though there’d been insufficient finding to warrant this innate concern.

This very night Stark, concealing his apprehension and strong sense of foreboding from Teuquob, had discretely abstained from taking any but the minimal medicine in order to keep his vigil.  Teuquob and Svein meanwhile had their hands full with the very active twins, as they had been unusually more irritable and difficult to handle. With everyone feeling somewhat exhausted, all the co-habitants of the Cabin had retired early. 

Svein had just closed his eyes when a slight tap on the bedroom door made him jump up. Luckily Teuquob had been too worn out to awaken. Cautiously slipping out from under the quilts, he swiftly got dressed and left the room. There was no need to inquire; Stark’s grave expression told it all.

“Good, you are dressed.” Stark drawing close whispered his instructions to Svein.  Svein nodded and quietly fetching his overcoat and sword, went outside and climbed onto the roof.  He squatted by the chimney and waited for that certain danger to manifest.

SVEIN

Due consideration for the welfare of infants and of Teuquob’s had curtailed Stark’s pre-emptive action of letting the fire in the fireplace die out. Besides which, the lack of smoke would have alerted the approaching nemesis.

“What’s going on?” Teuquob’s face peeked out of the bedroom door, shortly after Svein had exited the premise.

 “I wish I could respond with the word nothing; but I am not going to (fib) lie to you my dear.” Stark hastened over with his explanation.  “We are all in grave danger!”

“What can I do to assist you, sir?  I wish to fight alongside you.  I am competent enough having benefited greatly from your instructions; let me fetch my sword.”

“Hold on.” Stark grasped her arm to halt her hasty retreat into the bedroom.

 Her courage and eagerness to fight made Stark smile, despite the gravity of the situation.

 What an endearing child! You are almost as bold and foolhardy as Svein, but in this case you are no match for the peril that is out there; and far from helping, you would be a serious impediment.  Despite the shortness of time however, he addressed her calmly and tactfully, “Better you stay inside, bolt the door and valiantly guard your children.  The structure is solid and will not be easily contravened (penetrated, broken into). The windows are too narrow for anyone to go through. Hmmm.”

After a brief consideration, he then added, “For now get dressed and be on the ready; hopefully it won’t come to that, but in the event of fire or breach, you and the twins must be ready to flee to the safety of the cavern as we’ve discussed earlier.”

 

                                                                   ~

 (END OF SECTION 4)

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 2

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 2

Brandt, returning   to his quarters in exalted spirits a brief time later, was surprised to find Duan seated on the bed fully clothed, carefully wiping his blade clean.  When Brandt   advanced towards him to tell of his findings, something in Duan's demeanor told him that, the other (Duan) already knew. Yet, how could he?

Refusing to believe what his brain was telling him; Brandt   parted his lips to speak. Instantly the words froze on his tongue however, when Duan briefly stayed his hand and ejected coldly, "You were careless to have spared them."

DUAN

"What? Have you, but how?” Brandt   asked in bewilderment, now noting the blood-soaked rag in Duan's hand.

Duan snorted in disgust and went on with his cleaning.

Brandt   meanwhile curtailing the feeling of derision and dread that had suddenly overtaken him, walked over to the dressing table that divided the two beds. From a jar he poured out some water into a cup and took a swig to quench his sudden thirst.

 Then with a disdainful air, going over, he sat at the edge of his bed, inwardly seething with rage and, cogitating, questioning the air on how long Duan had been at the scene. Concealed by the night’s shadows, he had witnessed it all, passing judgment on him with those condescending eyes or being entertained by his no doubt deemed soft-hearted approach and incompetence. Then the moment his (Brandt’s) back was turned, the cold-blooded assassin had, without thought to repercussions, struck again, leaving a bloody trail in his wake.

He threw a cursory glance at Duan; the latter was lost in a world of his own. It was as if Brandt   did not exist at all. He only shared his space; Brandt   was a mere trifle, an insignificant bug, a pest to be tolerated.

For how long, that remained to be seen.

Still, Brandt knew by instinct, that Duan would not strike, not till the task was completed. Pending that time, Brandt was resolved to endure all the scorn and mockery and allow Duan to bask in his superiority.

 

After a while when the task (of cleaning) was complete Duan, putting his sword away, reclined with his head on the pillow and closed his eyes in respite, leaving Brandt   still seated at the edge of the bed with countless unanswered questions.

Duan’s mind, currently, briefly took stock of the evening’s activities, before succumbing to sleep:

 “As far back as he could recall he had always possessed a most remarkably retentive memory. On this night, his initial (preliminary) probe within the restricted area of Sacristy, beyond Scroll- rooms and so-called libraries, had been a wasted effort. But then his subsequent, successful breach of the impenetrable vault at the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s private residence had been, rather, fruitful.”

Duan shifted his body slightly as he tallied up the abundant pertinent information, far more than anticipated, at present cramming his brain. “It was all laid bare in those secreted scrolls- meticulously chronicled lists and countless subversive activities, courtesy of the Abbot, undoubtedly registered for posterity, in that laughable cryptic form.”

“A most definite noose around their necks; but why log such deleterious proof?”

With a wry grin he shook his head. “Men’s arrogance has always been their undoing. Admittedly, some of the past conspiracies had been extraordinary, bordering on genius, superb feats that had furthered their cause.  The accounts of scheduled drops, the elaborate network of men, each knowing only so much, going only so far, all carefully designed to ensure anonymity. That is why this brilliant organization, the perfect scheme to sustain the Traitor and the other, had thus far eluded for over twenty years or so, all the expanded efforts of the emperor, the local governments, secret agents and countless assassins and more.”

A contemptible, sinister smile briefly brushed his lips. “This den of loyalists will duly be extinguished when first the other more important matter is settled.” He snorted.

“He was close, he could sense it.”

In truth he had been looking forward to the impending mortal combat with the infamous Lord. 

That at least had a certain promise of thrill, a feat that had been so hard to attain lately as no other quite measured up to his competence (martial aptitude). He, nevertheless, quickly stifled his perverse ardor.

 “At present he had left things at the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s residence and private compound just as they were, (seemingly) untouched. Nothing will warn them of the violation.”

Duan’s thoughts reverting to Brandt, for a brief spell he inwardly wondered “how much longer he would have to nursemaid this utter fool, who almost foiled his plans. Still, it was a minor inconvenience, nothing serious to be reckoned with; in fact, it served his purpose well.”

Duan inwardly scowled, as he ruminated (cogitated) on how he had disposed of the dismembered bodies in the most ingenious places; these parts would not be discovered till long after their departure of this abominable den of traitors.

 A fleeting baleful leer registered (materialized) on his hard face, as he envisioned the certain future bedlam and the ruffling of those preen feathers of the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s.

“But that too would fall well within his plans. When a certain message of warning is dispatched by means of falcon or such, he would be at the ready then to intercept and to take full account of the direction. It would lead him directly to his prey, far quicker still. “

Already bored by the unvaried nature of things and their predictable outcome, Duan was about to drift into blissful sleep, when "Brother, should we not be taking our leave now?” Brandt’s cantankerous query violated the quiet of the room.

Receiving no response, Brandt   swallowed his rage and frustration, went over, and snuffed out the lamp, then still fully dressed noisily threw his body onto the bed. Though he too closed his eyes, sleep averted him and even after several hours of turning, tossing, and trying to make sense to himself his aggravation refused to diminish.

 In pitch darkness where imagined silhouettes danced (bopped) in the air, Brandt   again asked a question, "Brother, where did you dump the bodies?"  But gallingly, the eerie silence persisted.

Matching his inner mood, the room’s stifling air grew to be unbearably more confining, yet despite his discomfort, Brandt   refused to divest himself of his clothes and lay on the bed as is for the rest of the night, nursing a grievance, fuming and trying to anticipate Duan's next move.

 He did not know how, but he must have fallen asleep for, just before dawn he was violently shaken awake by Duan, who then rudely informed him that they were about to take their leave.

Brandt   sprang to his feet at once and hastily began gathering his baggage. Duan had already headed out the door. "Wait up, brother,” Brandt   had scant time to shout, before he too following suit, darted out the door after Duan.

Along the way curious thoughts plagued Brandt’s mind and, soon after, suspicious ones supplanted it (took root). “Why did Duan even bother to wake me up? Why had he not taken his leave, abandoning me to answer for the consequences of his vile deed, unless he has further use for me? But once the task is completed and I have become expandable, what then? Ha, that is what he thinks!”

Brandt   scoffed angrily, grinding his teeth. “We will see who'll snuff out whom in the end!”

Brandt   had hastened so much to catch up with Duan that pearls of perspiration now gathered on his brow despite the frigid morning air.  The stable hands were disgruntled at being aroused so early from their sleep, since the first rays of light had not yet reached the earth, but they dared not voice their discontent to Duan and wiping the sleep from their eyes, complied with Duan’s wishes, grumbling under their breath as they did.

Brief time later, Brandt   and Duan were seen bidding the monks a curt farewell, then holding the bridles of their horses, inaudibly (noiselessly) exiting the guest compounds and the main area. 

They passed through the just opened gates, under watchful eyes of sentry that curiously enough did not venture to question or hinder their clearly impetuous departure. Because the winding path leading from the gate was too steep to negotiate on horseback, they descended the slopes on foot, silent and self-absorbed, engulfed by that tense, eerie (somber) atmosphere, gradually diminishing in size till they were nothing more than specks in that hostile region.

Once the Temple was completely out of sight Brandt, unable to contain his curiosity (prying), yet again inquired after the fate of the two unfortunate monks.  Even then he had to ask Duan thrice before the latter finally consented to give his response.

Brandt’s blood curdled as he listened to the gory details which Duan now callously embellished. Brandt   could not conceal his involuntary shudder, ascertained now more than ever that he was riding alongside (beside) a monster, a creature devoid of (least moral conscience or conduct,) any mercy or remorse who had dared do such vile things to men of the cloth.

The resulting end was the drawn-out boisterous laughter from Duan which pierced Brandt’s ears and further grated his nerves. Brandt   sullenly looked away and bit hard on his upper lip to constrain his bursting fury so as not to compound latter’s perverse satisfaction.

                                                                                    ~

 

Meanwhile back at the Monastery, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn had been given the full report pertaining to Brandt Dustin and Duan’s last night’s activities and their hasty, early departure.

MONK KEIR

Monk Keir was irked at having to give his report of failure. Especially since he could not rightly say how he had lost the surveillance on Duan. One moment he was there, the next instant he had disappeared from plain sight. Keir had been assigned to this task because of his proficiency (special expertise), yet he’d failed and failed miserably.  Reading scant clues, he had searched high and low, but Duan’s trace could not be had anywhere; then suddenly after an appreciable amount of time just as mysteriously, Duan had appeared back in his quarters. There was no accounting for his activities, save for that bloody sword that did not bode well at all.

Shingue had done better with his assignment and reported Brandt’s exchange with the monks Fayet and Muro in detail.

After their dismissal, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn with his hands clasped behind his back, paced the length of the room to and from in complete silence, before sitting himself down with an apparent grave heart.

His trusted assistant Prior Skceno waited with due patience for Boqast Tizanzenn to speak. His own reports were just as grim, and he hated adding to his Eminence’s troubles.

“True, Muro’s cover had been blown right from the start, but his life was spared, and so did not fall prey to some accident of sorts, as it served them well to use Muro as counterintelligence without his knowing. They had allowed Muro to make certain observations and send on his reports, on regular basis (intervals) to Capital; only midway these were interrupted and scrutinized, revised then altered to appear significant yet altogether harmless intelligence to their cause.”

“They had perfected the forging of his handwriting so well that Muro himself would not be the wiser if he were ever to be confronted by (or asked to give account for) these. He was also secretly permitted to pursue his passion for inebriation as it kept him out of trouble. Lately, however, he had been more persistent with his espionage, undercover work, call it a hunch, and decidedly more determined to expose suspected proscribed activities within the monastery.  Yet after this length of time, he could not be dismissed or openly discarded without raising undue suspicion from the Department of Internal Security. Now this problem was resolved for them.” He winced when the newly (brief time ago) uncovered gruesome images intruded into his brain and he quickly pushed it aside.

“The vile assassin Duan had to have been dispatched from the Capital also, but he would be dealt with, long before he gained the chance to boast of his wicked (debauched) accomplishments.” Again, it took serious mental constraint to dissipate those disturbing images and focus his attention instead, on the matter at hand.

“The concealment must be precise and absolute.”  Skceno nodded resolutely, pursing his lips.  “Then in a few months’ time, long after the funeral and scattering of ashes, when in an annual report to the Census bureau, the deaths of Fayet and Muro are disclosed to the authorities, in preparation for the sure to be subtle inquiry, the carefully fabricated versions of their sudden demise would have to be already inserted into their personnel records, something believable and mundane, such as a fatal accident (result of a rock/mud slide) or an illness.”

PRIOR SKCENO

Skceno would not rule out the possibility of an insect bite or tainted medicinal concoction. He thoughtfully looked away. “The latter would be a more apt cause, as Muro always dabbled in these arts.”

“Subsequently, an ideal replacement would be sent from the Capital; an excellent candidate amidst the pious few that aspired to join this monastery. He must be on the lookout for that also. For the time being, he absently nodded. I shall omit rather, postpone the horrid, grisly aspects of their slaughter (murder) and instead broach the subject in a more equable light to his Holiness (Grace).”

Skceno’s intent was temporarily stymied however, by Boqast Tizanzenn’s sudden, concerned exclamation. “I cannot rightly put it,” he begun, “for there is no specific proof, no clear indication, least sign (mark) of tampering of the vault, yet I am of the opinion, my personal records have been somewhat violated, examined (or skimmed) by an unsanctioned, unscrupulous being!”

“But how can that be, Your Eminence, even I, your most trusted advisor and assistant, don’t know of the whereabouts or combination of such?”  With certain tact, he had abstained from outwardly mentioning the word vault.

“Yet there had been an intrusion, I’m certain of it!” Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn looked grave, almost angry.

“And it’s not hard to guess who?” He fell silent, pondering on his next course of action.

“Judging by the intelligence they had gathered; he could anticipate the target of the assassins’ dogged pursuit. As failsafe, he could covertly send men after them, but even before this, he must send word, to warn Stark of this imminent peril. Hmmmmm?”

 

                                                                 ~

 

(END OF SECTION 2)