LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 17

The ensuing days and nights the relentless journey passed in much the same way: during daylight hours riding as hard as the mare's endurance would allow it and, stopping briefly at nightfall, in some secluded safe spot (away from the main highway), to allow the animal to recoup part of her spent strength.

Eventually on the fifth day, the road ahead merged with the new major trading route that accordingly (according to general hearsay), would be winding its way alongside the river leading to, at some point, to the bustling trading post.

01- NEVETSECNUAC

When at dusk, Nevetsecnuac’s sharp eyes spotted the beginnings of habitation in yonder (in the far distance); he halted the mare’s gallop and paused briefly to ponder whether it was time for him now to revert to his scholarly disguise.

 Concluding in the end that assuming Fradel Rurik Korvald's identity was more appropriate, despite the traps that may lie- in- wait on the road ahead, Nevetsecnuac steered the horse away from the road and, in a perfectly (hidden) secluded spot, clad himself once more in the poet's finery.

Just as he was about to discard the (bundled up) hunting clothes into a deep crevice, his eyes suddenly caught the jutting head of the miniature key, previously given to him in the pit by the tortured skeleton.

Pulling it out, he examined the item more intently (carefully) in daylight, before returning it to his inner pocket and resuming his journey.

Along the way Nevetsecnuac cogitated (deliberated) on how the metal of the miniature key had been sturdy and, strangely, shared certain similar properties, same texture, sheen, and resiliency, with the sword Zonar, at the start of their combat, had given him (furnished him with) for his use. 

Nevetsecnuac further mulled over (nominated) on, those precious small jewels all inset (inlaid) into the stem and around three cursive pictographs, a rare feat, so ingeniously crafted (worked) into the metal. 

His focus suddenly straying (drifting), “Zonar?" he abruptly queried.

"Your presence has been sorely missed.  When and where, I wonder, will our next destined encounter be?"  His lone cry, left unchallenged, resounded in the thin air, losing itself in the whisper of the wind rippling through the hills.

“Indeed, in a strange way he’d missed his most formidable adversary.”

Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts veered, this time, to his recent hallucination and he questioned yet again whether it was a premonition of the future after all.

 “Would the invincible warrior Zonar, really bring about my premature doom?” 

An inexplicable shudder passed through Nevetsecnuac just then, as the cryptic, cold hand of Death tapped his shoulder.  Despite it all, however, he still felt an absence of malice or disdain towards Zonar.

 “Perhaps that is where my own weakness lies?”

When rider and mount halted for a brief respite, Nevetsecnuac’s attention reverting on the miniature key, he pulled it out and studied those three cursive pictographs that had been worked into the metal.

They were unlike any he had seen or studied.

Unable to decipher their meaning, he decided to postpone solving it till later and quickly secured the key back this time, in his luggage.  He then in one fluid motion mounted the horse and in keeping with the pretense of Fradel Rurik Korvald, picked up the reins in the fastidious manner of a casual rider rather than his usual, expert grip.

Carrying the ornate crop that fashionable scholars used, he quickly spurred the horse back onto the road.  This time, however, he kept the horse's speed more moderate and, in keeping with the disguise, he allowed his rudiment traits (mannerisms, characteristics) merge in conformity with Fradel Rurik Korval’s.

Be that as it may, a sudden query (inquiry) prayed on Nevetsecnuac mind, a deep concern on how his sworn brother was faring in his own journey towards the mountain home where Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and Teuquob awaited.

Nevetsecnuac understood that once Fradel had appraised them of the current political situation, so vastly different from the fictitious one by Heng Erling, and consequently, the amended goal; they would be despondent, comprehending (grasping) that he (Nevetsecnuac) would, forever be lost to them.

 Unbidden, Nevetsecnuac shed a silent tear, his soul now torn at their imagined, inevitable, inconsolable grief.  A Gut-wrenching sadness gripped his heart further, knowing he would miss out on seeing (his identical twins,) his son Alric Svein (boy) and daughter Lueling (girl), grow up.

                                                                                       ~                                                                                     

The journey thus far had been long and arduous, yet these rigors paled in comparison to the impending difficulties that lay ahead.  The Capital Province Holger, with all its rigid rules, regulations and stirring of the political soup made Nevetsecnuac a bit uneasy at first, but as he had been preparing for this eventuality all his life, he remained fully confident in meeting these challenges.  And for now, passing as the esteemed scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald presented the least problem of all.

Suddenly, Nevetsecnuac was rudely awakened from his hopeful reverie by the vociferous sounds of gambling, vigorous gaiety and strident music emanating from a string of inns lining the road up ahead.  The savory smells of every imaginable kind of dish assailed his nostrils, and he became aware for the first time that day of his empty stomach.  Reflecting, he realized that he had neglected to eat since the day before yesterday.

Dusk was falling once more, and he finally succumbed to the strong yearning within him for a warm bath and a cooked meal.

Halting the mare in front of the sixth inn by the side of the road, the most modest and respectable looking one of the lots, Nevetsecnuac dismounted and handed the horse's reins to the eager young stable hand.  Another page boy ran up as he dismounted and scooped up the baggage Nevetsecnuac had already tossed down.  Pausing for a moment Nevetsecnuac watched the stable boy gently handling the horse and leading the mare to the stables out back, then quickly mounted the marble steps (stairs) that led up to the posh (well-constructed) ebony door of the Inn, with the page burdened with the luggage following (trailing) close behind.

Nevetsecnuac was politely greeted by a dignified, rather young-looking, tall, lean, stern-faced proprietor seated at the makeshift desk. The original desk, Nevetsecnuac was to learn later on, had been badly damaged the previous night, casualty of an unprecedented brawl (fight, scuffle) between the two members of a rival faction, and was taken away for prompt repairs.  

02-  PROPRIETOR KJELD ROSKO

The proprietor had keen (intense), intelligent eyes, which its scrutiny penetrated deep within one’s soul. Rising to his feet at once, he’d approached the scholar, and with a slight bow of the head had introducing himself as Kjeld Rosko, the humble proprietor of that establishment, then courteously ushered the obviously distinguished scholar (Nevetsecnuac), to a comfortable seat by the makeshift registry desk.

Nevetsecnuac was first offered a complimentary cup of fragrant tea and asked if he would like some delectable tartlet to go with it.  Before Nevetsecnuac had a chance to reply, however, a shapely maid had brought in a tray bearing the steaming pot (of more tea) and some colorful, fluffy pastries. As Nevetsecnuac politely nodded and reached for the offered cup, the proprietor Kjeld Rosko, assuming his businesslike persona, steered around the table/desk and, fetching the elaborately bound registry book from the drawer, he opened it to a specific page.  After picking up the writing brush from its stand and loading it with ink, his eyes lightly trailed down the list of names on the parchment page to the last entry.

Smiling, Kjeld Rosko (the innkeeper) then looked up to pleasantly inquire after his honorable guest's name, his intended length of stay and his immediate and long-term requirements.

"Tonng Yennik." Nevetsecnuac, wishing to escape the scrutiny and unwarranted attention that the name of Fradel Rurik Korvald would attract, without the least change in his serene, but firm countenance, responded.  As Nevetsecnuac was dictating his other requirements his eye, covertly turned towards the crowded dining hall, where he caught sight of a singular stranger, armed with a finely made broadsword under his tailored garments, taking his evening meal in the company of two stout guards.

The stranger, though seated in a far corner, cut such an imposing figure that everyone in the hall was obviously ill at ease with his presence there.  A slight look of displeasure, after sampling (nibbling) one of the morsels, immediately unleashed, a fit of rage and hurling abuses from the guard on the left, directed at the manager who, in turn, red-faced, berated the hapless waiter who appeared to be laboring for breath from fright, but before he could pass out cold, he’d been perfunctorily dismissed.  On a signal from the manager, the more efficient, seasoned staff burst into the scene to fawn (toady, grovel) and to serve on the demanding two.

Kjeld Rosko momentarily distracted by this, his face twitched failing to hide his irritation and suppressed hostility, but only for a spell; the expression in his blue eyes now unreadable, he sported (wore) for a time a wry (sardonic) grin, as he followed the ongoing  frenzied activity to appease the occupants of that table in the dining hall.  Subsequently, turning away, he barked at the page (more like a snap command) to take the guest’s luggage on up to the available room at once then, hastened to complete his business with scholar Tonng Yennic.

03- KJELD ROSKO

In the midst of all that mayhem, the stranger’s eyes had briefly, with a cold, callous air swept the room, totally disregarding the ruckus (commotion) the guard on his left hand instigated (set off); then, purposefully averting Nevetsecnuac’s gaze, he indifferently resumed his stern conversation with the bearded one on his right.

 “Who are you that you should warrant such fear?”  Nevetsecnuac mused, as he stole an impassive glance at the stranger. 

The moment Nevetsecnuac was anew engaged by the proprietor Kjeld Rosko, however, the stranger reverted his cold, piercing eyes with a calculating gleam back on Nevetsecnuac to study him more intently.  His obvious subordinate, the keen bearded companion, becoming aware of this, abruptly fell silent and turned slightly in the same direction to see Nevetsecnuac then, reverted (turned) his questioning gaze back on the latter.

Nevetsecnuac, from the corner of his eye, astutely observed how the bearded one receiving some silent instructions inclined his head towards the lobby and nodded to some unseen person.

“Now the trap will be set.”  Nevetsecnuac tad (smidgen), amused, nonchalant, at his leisure rose and followed the innkeeper and his assistant Rodny (who’s rigid demeanor was more akin to a bodyguard) up the stairs.

The subtle exchange, Kjeld Rosko catching the stranger's eye in passing and, giving the other a terse, obsequious nod, was of course shrewdly noted by Nevetsecnuac. Stifling a chortle, midway up the stairs he (Nevetsecnuac) turned and halted, boldly looking back at the stranger, giving him a complete once over.

“Who are you, really,” Nevetsecnuac intrepidly mused.

And when Nevetsecnuac’s eye caught the dour glower (stern scowl) of the bearded guard, he simply grimaced wryly and, undaunted, turned to continue following Kjeld Rosko and his assistant Rodny, to the top of the stairs.

The proprietor Kjeld Rosko observing scholar’s audacious (risky) demeanor, his face for a spell had turned ashen, but of course, he had quickly masked his dread and, from then on with a glint of admiration in his pupils, he’d covertly scrutinized this unusual scholar, while he hastened his steps towards the assigned room. Finally, at the end of the long hall Nevetsecnuac was solicitously ushered into an airy, comfortable room.

“Lavish decorations,” Nevetsecnuac noted after a cursory glance, “far too lavish, in fact.”

 A frown appeared on his face, and he shook his head, "This will not do!"

"But sir, it’s the best room we have, the most luxurious one at this Inn." Suppressing his fury, Kjeld Rosko reticently (reservedly, warily) protested.  Clearly, he had not anticipated the objection.  His assistant standing rigidly on the side, looking aghast and tongue-tied, wrung his hands as he nervously searched his brain for more persuasive words, to assist his boss in this.

Nevetsecnuac disdainfully walked past both, to stand before a magnificent tapestry hanging over the far wall.  His stern eyes surveyed the fine stitching until they pointedly rested on a miniature hole concealed by the design, and he grimaced coldly.

On the other side the spy blanched and instinctively recoiled with a jerk, fearing he had been found out.  Then, acknowledging that that was impossible, he pressed a single eye back to the portal only to meet Nevetsecnuac's cold stare once more.  Excitement and fear coursed through his veins as he shuddered anew, filled with apprehension.

04- SPY (FRASTOS) - JP 11

Nevetsecnuac, however, smiled sourly and half turned to address the inwardly seething Kjeld Rosko.

"Are you daft or hard of hearing; I said, this room is unsatisfactory. “He said crossly (irately) then softening his tone, explained. “For one thing, it’s too drafty," he shot a glance back at the tapestry, "for another, I prefer the western exposure.  Perhaps I've neglected to inform you of these particular requirements."

"Please, reexamine facts sir and reconsider," Kjeld Rosko clenched his right fist, hidden behind his back, as his assistant, now tongue-tied, clamoring for an apt excuse.  "If I may be candid with you, the rooms facing west are all occupied.  Besides that, they are all second rate and decidedly draftier."  Kjeld said in a placating tone, though he held his hard gaze on the arrogant scholar, "Won't you reassess?  I'll do everything in my power to make your stay here most pleasant and comfortable.  This is truly our finest room, as befits one of your ‘stature, sir.  I assure you that, even if another room becomes available, it will fall considerably short of the luxury you see here."

"Look here," Nevetsecnuac cut him short with a curt gesture of his hand, "if you don't have the means to accommodate me as I wish, then I strongly suggest that you stop wasting my time.  Have my horse brought round at once!"  Feigning anger, he made to leave, pushing past Kjeld Rosko.

"What's all the commotion about?"  The bearded guard from the dining hall suddenly appeared in the hall.

"Sir, this is a private matter.  Your rude intrusion is not appreciated."  Nevetsecnuac glared at the guard provocatively.

“What business is this of yours?  Get lost!” his stern look plainly said.

Obviously unused to this kind of treatment, the guard looked sharply at Nevetsecnuac, his hand gliding over to rest threateningly at the hilt of his sheathed sword, and his polite smile instantly turned into an icy scowl of hatred.

 Any other would have been wasted for a mere cross look, let alone such a rebuke!

“Have you not the slightest idea whom you are addressing?” his eyes narrowed, as he glared venomously (furiously), the threat implicit in his silence.

“So,” Nevetsecnuac mused, “you've had orders not to molest (assault, abuse, mistreat) me; interesting!”

 In keeping with a scholar's arrogance, Nevetsecnuac was about to haughtily rebuff the restrained bully further, when Kjeld Rosko, with unusual agility, rushed past Tonng Yennik (Nevetsecnuac).

Eyes hard with steel determination, the resilient (tough and flexible) proprietor, nevertheless, bowed low to the guard.

"I apologize profusely, sir, for your trouble.  I apologize to you both."  Kjeld Rosko turned and bowed low also, to Tonng Yennik.  Despite his outward show of submission, he quaked in rage, inwardly. Nevetsecnuac was secretly impressed with Kjeld Rosko’s admirable stoical (tolerant, forbearing) nature.

"It’s just a slight misunderstanding, that's all."  Shifting his sham (pretend), nervous gaze back and forth between the guard and Tonng Yennik, he dabbed at the supposed perspiration on his mustache, with his handkerchief.  "The gentleman wishes to have another room.  I was just about to accommodate his wishes."

“It sounds like you're asking his permission, innkeeper!” Nevetsecnuac questioningly looked at Kjeld Rosko.

The guard's face, meanwhile, had crinkled in momentary disgust as, clenching his fist, he let the built-up anger drain slowly from him.  After a scornful laugh he averted Tonng Yennik's eyes and gave the briefest of nods.

 "I apologize for the intrusion."  Without another word, he briskly turned and left.

Kjeld Rosko was relieved that the volatile situation had been averted; after a furtive glance at the retreating guard, he politely turned to address the scholar: "Please, for the time being, make yourself comfortable here; I'll go and make all the specific arrangements at once." Attaining a nod of concurrence from Tonng Yennik, he exhaled deeply, bowed low once more, then hastily withdrew.

“What dramatics!” Nevetsecnuac shook his head after the proprietor.

 “It had not been his intention to be so hard on Kjeld Rosko.  He was only testing the waters to see how far they would go to keep him here.  But why have they made no contact yet?  What were they waiting for?”  Nevetsecnuac had already formed his own opinion on the singular stranger's role in all this or, at least, who it was that had ordered his accommodation here.  Nevetsecnuac had set the wheel in motion, forced their hands but, until the inevitable meeting which, he was certain, would transpire later that night, there was little left now for him to do.  With a shrug of his shoulders, he strolled to the far end of the room and stood in front of the window, thoughtfully staring out at the view.  The miniature gardens, with their man-made mountains and creeks, the snaking pathways bordered by elaborate lattices seemed to be pure ostentation. 

05-SCHOLAR TONNG YENNICK (NEVETSECNUAC)JPG

The shallowness of it all rather disgusted him.  “Only those who only experienced nature at second hand could find the tiny landscape appealing,” he concluded.  He disdainfully pursed his lips then turned away from the window, his mind returning to the stranger and his guards.

“I foiled their immediate plans and forced them into an alternate course.  Next, I'll appear agreeable, but not too much so.  Why should I make things too easy for them?”  His eyes once more surveyed the room.

“I wonder where the trap door is.”  Deducing (figuring out) the most likely spot, he walked over and tapped lightly, so as not to alert any guard concealed within.  Satisfied with the result, he turned back and sat down by the fireplace.

Short time later Kjeld returned somewhat panting (winded, breathless) and with flushed (red) face, for he had to oversee a lot of details and alter or shift the carefully devised plans and traps that had been in place for nearly a month.  After apologizing profusely to Tonng Yennik for the inconvenience and the slight delay he declared, with a certain satisfaction, that the room fitting his precise specifications had now been made ready for his perusal. Kjeld Rosko then, graciously inclined his head and invited Tonng Yennik to follow him.  As they were leaving, Kjeld turned and bayed at his underling Rodney, to; at once move the gentleman's baggage to the “Room Twelve”.

Down the hall, they came across a disgruntled merchant, hair disheveled and clothes akimbo, being hastily, unceremoniously deposited into a new room.  Too angry, or perhaps too frightened, to articulate his feelings, he glared furiously at Kjeld Rosko then stole a scornful glance at Tonng Yennik, before going in and pointedly slamming the door in their faces as they passed.

Feigning incomprehension, Nevetsecnuac raised an eyebrow at the innkeeper.  The apologetic Kjeld nervously rushed to give some lame excuse for the merchant's rude behavior, glancing fearfully at the cracked door to his left as he spoke.  Then, with polite rhetoric (pomposity), he motioned to the room on the right and, inclining his head slightly, ushered Tonng Yennik into the hastily prepared Room Twelve.

"Is this room more to your satisfaction, sir?  Does it meet with your approval?"  Kjeld’s deep etched lines on his face, tell-tale-signs of fret, creased further with impatience as he, waited for an answer.

"Hmm… It will do." Nevetsecnuac responded, after a brief perusal.  Walking over to the far corner, he sunk into a comfortable chair by the mantle.

 “Odd,” Nevetsecnuac noted the recently disturbed dust floating in the air; “this room had not been used for some time.  It obviously wasn't my needs that dislodged that merchant.”

Highly pleased and, showing no inclination to leave Kjeld, meanwhile, had walked up to the tray bearing a teapot and cups and, turning, graciously offered his guest a seething cup of fragrant tea. Receiving a negative response, he next, on the pretext of showing the amenities of the room and how it accorded with his guest's instructions, prodded Tonng Yennik discreetly, so he thought, for more information, his background, destination, and the nature of his business in the Capital.

With a seemingly agreeable disposition, Nevetsecnuac provided him with only the minimum of harmless information, just enough to satisfy Kjeld's curiosity.  Then, feigning distraction, inquired pointedly after the stranger with the broadsword whom he had seen earlier in the dining hall.

06- FAMOUS BATHOUSE  (3)JPG

The shock, which Kjeld Rosko so miserably failed to mask and, his subsequent, evasive answers, piqued Nevetsecnuac’s curiosity.  Nevertheless, for the time being, he decided to simply let it pass.

To Kjeld’s relief just then, an underling after knocking poked his head in and hastily offered his apologies for the intrusion; he next, happily announced that the provisions for the bath had been made ready in the bathing hall.

"A communal bath," Tonng Yennik, his face showing obvious signs of displeasure, derisively asked.

"Why, of course." Kjeld with a profligate grin, explained.  "And you’ll be attended by rare, exquisite beauties of either gender, depending on your preference of course. We have become quite famous for our bathing facilities here ever since we found the means to channel the nearby hot springs in an unlimited supply.  Sir, you are quite fortunate that you have come at this time before high Season.  Winter is our busiest time, and nearly all our rooms are reserved far in advance by gentry from near and far.  Oh, but I'm keeping you from your enjoyment of your bath."  Seizing this opportunity, Kjeld Rosko beat a hasty retreat.

“Yes, hasten forth and report your findings to that stranger.  I'm sure he will be impressed by the uselessness of your observations,” Nevetsecnuac thought as the Innkeeper departed.

“I’m in need of a bath, “Nevetsecnuac reflected, “but only that and nothing else.”

Before he left the room however, Nevetsecnuac took the precautionary measure of concealing his identity papers in a supposed, secure place.  Locking the door after him, he swiftly traversed the long hallway and descended the stairs, following the painted images of a man in a tub down to the bathing chamber.

 

                                                                                            ~

 

(END OF SECTION 17)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 6

Nevetsecnuac had felt a twinge of pain as the blade had, just then, carelessly, or perhaps deliberately; cut a thin sliver into the flesh across his throat, making the blood trickle down both sides of his neck.

Unflinching, Nevetsecnuac smiled at Zonar Kuntzu.  "I'm ready for another bout (session), in fact I’ve been looking forward to break (end) this tiresome monotony; however, you must first excuse my unceremonious greeting of you."  He then shifted to lessen Zonar ‘s hold, but try as he might, he found himself solidly pinned, trapped under the other's oppressive hold.  Worse still, he could feel the blood coursing in his veins gradually ebbing (slowing down, fading)  robbing his vitals, his entire body, of the essential lifegiving force; that same instance, he felt as if slipping into a catatonic state, limbs weighed down like a solid rock or a huge bronze pot in defiance of his will,  refusing to budge even in the slightest.

Zonar Kuntzu seemed oblivious to this impediment; he only noted the fleeting shadow of concern registering in Nevetsecnuac's eyes and so, Zonar grinned, "You hesitate? Lest you fear, I have only lost miniscule faction of my powers?"

“Well, do you wish to fight me or not?  I never pegged you for a spineless opponent!” He let go and stood away. “I’ll give you a headway in strike, go on!”

Nevetsecnuac wished to respond but he could neither part his lips, nor was he able to utter the slightest sound; instead, only a frustrated, guttural (rasping, rough) gurgling came from his throat.

 

01- ZONAR CHALLENGES NEVETSECNUAC  ONCE MORE

 

Zonar’s subsequent response was baffling to Nevetsecnuac, especially since the other looked as if offended (aggrieved, angry, hostile) for a fleeting moment or two- by some perceived, brazen, insulting declaration (challenge) issued forth from Nevetsecnuac’s mind.

"You are far too reckless or brave, goading me so; nevertheless, I’m in no hurry to end your life, not just yet.  Not before I have some fun, but I fear it may prove to be no contest at all and, worse still, it may even bore me."  Pursing his lips disdainfully, Zonar, so uncharacteristically, coldly ejected and then shrugged.

 "After all, I do possess an unfair advantage over you.  Or have you so readily forgotten how I'm now very well acquainted with your fighting style, as well, know your innate (inadequacies) limitations? “

“That's right, suffice to say that what we shared before, glorious as it may have seemed to you, was only a trifling test run.  What you encountered then, and found so hard to defend against, even after the loss of my talisman, was but one twentieth of my force and ability."  Suddenly Zonar’s countenance turned dark and his expression fierce.

 "Damn you!" he swore, gritting his teeth.

"Why the hell did you not stay where you were safe, instead of paying a pilgrimage to that worthless Heaven's Gate Spiritual Temple, the den of mercenaries and spies?  That vile, cursed place should have been razed to the ground long ago, along with all the rest.  You thought they would be worthy of your trust because they were duty-bound (obligated), functioning under the cloak of faith?  Now, regrettably, you will have to be slayed.  You will all have to be eradicated (eliminated), including your newborn twin son and daughter."

Zonar grimaced wryly, then added thoughtfully, "Yes, save for one; your wife, who has been promised a safe delivery into the hands of Emperor Deng Hedenko of Kontu, by my Sovereign Lord (of Korion), therefore, sending me on this execrable quest (odious mission).  But alas, I his loyal subject have been entrusted with this task."

 

02- EMPEROR OF KONTU DENG HEDNEKO

 

"What!  Lord Asger (Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon) and the twins will all be killed?  My wife… my precious, beautiful Teuquob, will be at the mercy of Deng Hedenko, that rancorous (malign) villain?"

Zonar’s announcement (declaration) had sent a terrible lightning bolt (strike) through Nevetsecnuac's brain; next, an all-consuming, searing rage had coursed through his veins and exploded in his chest.  His soul recoiling in terror, he clenched his fists until his knuckles (turned white) cracked.

Externally, Nevetsecnuac’s face had contorted somewhat tragically, his eyes revealing only a fleeting glimpse of the raging, conflicting storm that tore up his spirit (core); with

remarkable will thence, he checked this rising fury that threatened to unhinge (unbalance) him. “No,” He determinedly rejected the present reality; and moments later common sense had edified (enlightened, informed) him to the truth, that this person before him, was someone other than Zonar.  Though he bore Zonar’s (likeness) physical form, had similar eccentric (quirky, odd) attributes- his innate character, his demeanor nevertheless was slightly off, and it could be said even quite odd (alien).

Nevetsecnuac could not rightly pinpoint the reason, but his intuition, the inner dread surmounted with the foreboding feeling just then, had thus constricted (confined, held, caged) his soul in a primordial vice (pure evil).

  

"I'll release you from the spell (incantation) that binds you, soon enough," Zonar meanwhile, had promised hardheartedly (stonily). "So that we may resume where we’d left off; however, I trust that, before your glorious end, you will furnish me with one more memorable battle."

"You'll have that, and more!" Nevetsecnuac hissed, his tongue now released from the oppressive hold to the utter amazement of Zonar.  For Nevetsecnuac somehow with his innate prowess (ability), had broken the spell. 

03 - NEVETSECNUAC BREAKS THE SPELL

“You never cease to amaze me.” But before Zonar could react and shoot out searing beams from his pupils, pre-emptively Nevetsecnuac's two fingers of his right hand had targeted Zonar's blazing eyes while the left hand grasped Zonar's wrist clutching the hilt of his sword.  In a contest of strength next, the blade was forced away from Nevetsecnuac’s throat and cast off to one side, as Nevetsecnuac simultaneously rolled his body, to pin Zonar under him on the wet ground.

“I will not be underestimating you again.” Zonar's glaring expression mutely warned.

"Give me one, just one good reason why I should spare your life." Nevetsecnuac demanded through gritted teeth as his right hand gripped Zonar's throat in a death hold.

"What duress, what measure of political liability (millstone) has Hedenko over your Sovereign that your liege would force such a cowardly onus (to murder innocent children and to abduct woman for delivery) onto you, his loyal subject?"

Half blinded by the blood oozing from his eye sockets, Zonar remained unrelenting and defiantly spat into Nevetsecnuac's face, gurgling, "Go to hell!"

Then, by no means helpless, in the ensuing contest of strength Zonar, the summoned sword’s hilt once more in his grip, his legs tightly wound around Nevetsecnuac's waist, the two, interlocked as they were, rolled until at one point they both went over the precipice and, after falling some measure as they scraped the jagged, protruding rocks, plummeted headlong into the depths of the lake.

Zonar, being the first to be freed from the choking, trapping net of submarine growth, swam ashore then, brandishing his sword in readiness to hack, watched, and waited for his adversary to surface next.  His fiery eyes, miraculously mended, combed the crystalline depths beneath the gently undulating waves; suddenly however, Nevetsecnuac sprang up out of the water and somersaulting in the air over Zonar's head, landed on his feet squarely behind him.

Turning around in a flash to confront Nevetsecnuac, Zonar grimaced at him wryly.  "I shall certainly miss your amusing calisthenics.  Perhaps Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, your aged, crippled teacher, could be persuaded to perform the same; that is, if he survives the first encounter with me."

Zonar was being deliberately provocative, hiding the fact that he had, in fact, felt a secret empathy and lasting admiration for that honorable old Lord, in view of all that he had heard and learned about him.

"Don't flatter yourself with your overrated confidence," came, Nevetsecnuac's hot retort.  Narrowing his eyes next, he demanded, "So, you still want to go through with this?"

"You expected less?"

"Then I shall be forced to stop you.  This time, however, you won't be cheating death so easily." Nevetsecnuac warned coldly.

In fact, he was stalling to attain more information about the informants, the spies inferred by Zonar, though he was not entirely sure how he would convey this vital message to Lord Asger Zhon once this adversary was bested (defeated) in combat.

04- NEVETSECNUAC

“Perhaps I would encounter another brave, loyal soul like Fradel Rurik Korvald, whom I can implicitly trust.” His reflections were just then rudely interrupted by Zonar's roaring laughter, "You?  You think you're capable of stopping me?”

After which he knitted his brows and bellowed at Nevetsecnuac, “Look who is overrating their skill!"

 Zonar pivoted away, then swung back again snorting angrily, "You talk so big, but what makes you think you're still good enough?"

 Zonar’s eyes (with no evidence of prior injury) completely restored to norm, he now narrowed his eyes and fiendishly warned: “If you had any sense, you would beg for mercy or flee to safety.  But I know your kind all too well.  You're so full of foolish notions of honor and idealism; you’ll never condescend (deign) to a reprehensible recourse (alternative, options) however reasonable, however sensible. “

“You are too foolhardy to concede (admit)to the truth, of what lies starkly before you, the evident hopelessness of your situation.  Blinded by faith you will hasten towards your death; go through hellfire, unflinchingly, wouldn't you, to achieve your goal?"

Zonar spat out the irate words, not giving Nevetsecnuac (single) any chance to respond.  "This you would do, despite the overwhelming odds against you, counting on posterity to log (register) your fame, relying only on Heaven's might to assist you in your righteous cause.  Hah!  Foolish martyrs that your kind always are, you would hasten to your death, never coming to grips with the Universal Truth: that man stands alone, fights alone, and dies alone, without any interference or least regard from Heaven.  After all, why should they take any heed in the mundane affairs of insignificant straw dogs like you?  One pitted against many?  Hah!  Courage and ability alone, however admirable, are not nearly enough when confronting a cunning, ruthless, formidable force.  Patience, good planning, strategy, and proper reinforcements are what are needed here most.  And don't think I don't know why you are headed to the Capital, Channing. “

He shook a reproachful finger at Nevetsecnuac.

"But I ask you, without all this that I have enumerated, how do you propose, I mean what makes you think that you will succeed where others have failed, and failed miserably?  You think that you're invincible?"

Nevetsecnuac just then was reminded of the magic brush, which Zonar had earlier gifted him and his had absentmindedly reached into his inner pocket (to retrieve it); but his hand failed to find it. It was gone!

“What are you searching for?”  Zonar growled.

Another evidence of a sure discrepancy in his character.  Nevetsecnuac, musing, looked down. Furthermore, Zonar’s inability to detect his thoughts (read, decipher his mind), confirmed Nevetsecnuac’s earlier suspicion that this person before him was only an impostor and a poor impersonator of Zonar at that, though assuredly, he was an assassin.

Nevetsecnuac sharply looked up to now say this, when Zonar just then clearly irritated, held up his hand, keeping any response from Nevetsecnuac. With his darkened countenance, he simply shook his head and next, scowling, looked away; but then shrugging his shoulders, he muttered: "Besides, what's the big urgency, eh?"

05-ZONAR KUNTZU -  (17)

Directing his gaze back at Nevetsecnuac he asked, "What are a few more years of waiting when twenty have already passed?  Unless” He opened his eyes wide. "Unless the secret had been revealed to you only recently…  Ah, now I understand.  It all makes sense."

Zonar nodded his head as conflicting emotions surged in his chest.  Once he, too, experienced Nevetsecnuac's type of impatience.

When he addressed Nevetsecnuac anew, his tone lacked the fire and brimstone, the remonstration, anger, and spite and was, instead, sympathetic and grave.

"Yes I, too, hold loyalty and filial piety as the duties most paramount to every man.  Though I care little for the affairs of your Country, I respect what you are aiming to achieve.”

“It is because I understand that I am now prepared to give you, sir, this leeway, this last chance, so that you may fulfill your life's objective.  All I ask, no, I demand in return is your promise of non-interference.  It is imperative that this condition be met for… then,”

“No, hear me out, first!"  He froze Nevetsecnuac's response with a gesture of his hand.

"Just take me on my word when I say that I cannot fail in my duty to my Sovereign Lord for, if I did, then dire, irreversible consequences would befall my Country. Fact is, we are forced by circumstance to bid our time; any premature deployment of our armies will prove disastrous, to say the least."  He had absentmindedly murmured this last phrase to himself as he had looked away then, reverting his piercing gaze back on Nevetsecnuac, he stressed, "Abide by this condition and I will spare your life and allow you to be on your way.  Otherwise, sir, I will not be held (accountable) responsible for what I will then be forced to do, for I have sworn to obliterate all opposition, however innocent, that stands in my way.  Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly…"  Nevetsecnuac answered sharply. “But it is most offensive to me, sir, that you would even consider proposing such an option to me.  More injurious still, you clearly expected an affirmative response."

 His voice rose with his mounting outrage, "How can I sacrifice the lives of those whom I'm sworn to protect?  How can I stand idly by and let you live to cause injury to Lord Asger Zhon, to my innocent son and daughter, and to let you abduct my wife and cast her into a fate far worse than death?  I will fight you, fight to the end of Earth if needs be, to prevent this from ever happening!"

"You sorely disappoint me, young man." Zonar's thunderous, reproachful voice interrupted Nevetsecnuac.  "Just whom do you bear your allegiance to?  Answer me this; what has been your prime objective all along, if not to avenge your forefathers?  For assured success, you should have hardened your heart.  Are you willing to risk it all for the sake of a mere woman, and an old man, and puny children?  Mark my words, this weakness will be your undoing."

"I'll be risking nothing since I do not intend to lose to you or any other.  Hence, your ominous prediction, sir, is unwarranted and farfetched."  Nevetsecnuac, though perplexed, retorted angrily.

"I thought I understood you well, but it seems I have erred." Zonar groaned, gritting his teeth.  Then, shifting his body impatiently, he scoffed, "I've wasted far too much precious time on you as it is, more than I cared to."

He was about to launch his deadly assault on Nevetsecnuac when, forcing restraint on himself, he stayed his hand and commanded, "Halt!  The Tokiro Code of the Warrior will not permit me to take on an unarmed foe."

Disregarding Nevetsecnuac's protest, he shot up into the air to land on the crest of the hill, disappearing shortly after.

"I've had just about enough of your stalling tactics.  I dare you to fight me now!" Nevetsecnuac shouted after him then, following suit, launched himself onto the hilltop.

Spotting Zonar in the distance, he rushed after him to engage him.

 Zonar, at first spreading the distance between them, swiftly delved into, then out of the previously hidden, deep cavern, to now stand at its gaping mouth with his feet firmly planted wide apart on the hard ground. With one difference, he was also armed with two sheathed swords, as he waited in a menacing pose with a scornful smile plastered on his lips, for Nevetsecnuac to catch up.

When Nevetsecnuac reached the right proximity, Zonar, shouted, “Catch!”, and in a flash, hurled one of the swords at him.

Nevetsecnuac, still running, reached out his hand and grasped the hilt of the sword in mid-air as it was about to sail by, instantly unsheathing it.

 "But what's this?"  Nevetsecnuac was taken aback, for this was not the sword he was expecting to have.  Rather it was Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon’s ancestral sword, the very one he had entrusted into Fradel Rurik Korvald's care.  He could not hide the fleeting horror in his eyes as he looked up to rivet his fiery, questioning gaze on Zonar.  Holding it up, he demanded in a fierce shout, "How did you come by this?"

The response was a roaring, earth-shaking laughter after which Zonar gnashed his teeth and confirmed Nevetsecnuac's worst fear, "Your head will soon be joining that of the man whose name you have assumed."

"And what possible danger did he pose to you, you are vile, despicable assassin?" Nevetsecnuac cursed furiously, his face knotted with rage.

"He was on his way to join up with Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, was he not? What difference would it make, then, where he expired?" Zonar retorted with sarcasm and a bemused smile as he shrugged his shoulders and scoffed.

06-NEVETSECNUAC  (32)

"You…You will pay for this outrage murdering swine!" Nevetsecnuac, in a passionate fury brandishing his sword, launched his deadliest assault on Zonar.

The opponent swiftly deflected the blow and, in a twirl, hacked back at Nevetsecnuac.

Nevetsecnuac, rendering this lethal onslaught ineffective, averted the sword's successive deadly strikes, then somersaulted into position to thrust the blade into Zonar's side; only to have Zonar swerve nimbly and miss it by a sliver.

The next instant they were interlocked in the fiercest, most fatal combat yet, that defied all description and made their previous clashes seem more like mere child's play.

Zonar proved as good as his boast and, during subsequent countless rounds, Nevetsecnuac, despite his competence, suffered severe wounds and serious, deep lacerations to his legs, arms, chest and face.

In the ensuing twenty or more bouts of fray, as Nevetsecnuac effectively confronted (tackled) Zonar's invincible prowess, even though he deflected a multitude of deadly blows, thrusts and strikes and, with his superb skill and agility, held his own for a long time, to later succeed in inflicting some serious wounds and slashes on Zonar, in the end, with his strength slowly ebbing, to his dismay Nevetsecnuac was forced to concede to the possibility of his probable (foreseeable) defeat.

Suddenly however, the images of his beloved (his uncle, wife, and children) manifesting in his mind’s eye, anew regenerated his fortitude and zeal.  Letting go a most fearsome, blood-curdling shout, Nevetsecnuac ducked, dived then executed his most brilliant, incredible maneuver yet, to in one lightning sweep of the blade sever (hack) Zonar's head at the neck (collar).

The bloody head, cleared off the torso, tumbled onto the ground and rolled some ways before being arrested by a rock.

Nevetsecnuac barely had time to reflect on his success, however, when, to his amazement and great horror, he witnessed the decapitated body of Zonar slowly rising from the ground to advance towards where the bloodied head lay still.  The head, meanwhile, quavered then, dislodged from the ground, simply hurled up and joined with the severed stump.

07 -ZONAR KUNTZU - 2 (33)

The head now on the nape and perfectly aligned, the bloody line sizzling and emitting a blue iridescence, subsequently dissolved, fused (bonded, merged) with the body.

Once more a whole being, Zonar suddenly opened his eyes wide and, turning burrowed his fiery gaze into Nevetsecnuac.

With a snarl on his lips he declared, "Fool!  You can't kill me!  Don’t you know you can't kill an immortal?”

“Ha!  Ha!  Hah!  Your best and only recourse would have been, is to take a flight… to scram. Now, I'll have your head and, your soul will be condemned for all eternity rot in Hell!"

Throwing his head back, Zonar first howled like a wolf, and then with an eerily laugh, launched anew his murderous assault on (a tad stunned) Nevetsecnuac.

 

"I'll show you how even an immortal can be killed!"  Though disheartened for a spell, Nevetsecnuac bravely thwarted each consecutive blow then shifted to an offensive with more lethal strikes. During the seemingly eternal, succession (series) of intense, pitched scuffle, Nevetsecnuac, nevertheless, soon realized that he could not exhaust this formidable foe even after hundreds more such skirmishes, let alone vanquish him.

 Same could not be said of Nevetsecnuac, for the incessant fierce combat eventually taking its toll, his stamina ebbed, and he was once more forced to fight defensively.

 In this dire circumstance, before Nevetsecnuac could further retaliate or utilize his only viable option to flee, Zonar, at lightning speed wielding three consecutive strikes with his indestructible sword, dealt Nevetsecnuac’s fate an irreversible, calamitous turn.

The first decisive blow broke the blade of Lord Asger’s ancestral sword, as if it were a tender twig, into two halves.  The second blow came from the hilt of Zonar's sword. It struck so hard on Nevetsecnuac's top of the head that it split-open an inch deep gash in his skull.  As Nevetsecnuac fought against disorientation, excruciating, throbbing pain, the dizzying, whirling, fast failing vision (eyesight), Zonar, glaring venomously at Nevetsecnuac, in a third strike, swung his sword wide to... Before Nevetsecnuac could ask, “Could this be the end?”  Whoosh … The raw blade in an instant severed Nevetsecnuac's head clean through at the nape of his neck.

 

(END OF SECTION 6)

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