12- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE PORTENDED PERIL - SECTION 2

(SOVEREIGN ZAKHERTAN’S NIGHTMARE ENSUES)

 

Zakhertan, (still in the grip of a terrible nightmare), had just retrieved his sword when this time he found himself suddenly enveloped in a dense, purplish, spiraling fog. The strong rancid smell assailed his nostrils. His chest once more constrained and his head reeling, he nevertheless undeterred, blindly felt his way about, advancing at times on his hands and knees, to escape this current entrapment. When the fog at lower altitude eventually thinned out, he spotted too late the brigands lurking in the thickets, brandishing their lethal arsenals, their mouths set in a snarl of deadly intent, ready to slay him. A signal, a shrill pitch of a whistle slicing through the air just then, however, froze them in their stance. Horses’ hooves churning up huge clouds of dust in a flash next revealed a contingent of masked riders, clothed head to toe in black and heavily armed, at the scene. In dizzying speed, they dismounted and fanned out to encircle him. Their disciplined, precision manoeuvring impressed and deep down exhilarated Zakhertan Yozdek.

01- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK 999 (1)

Nonchalant (blasé), he at once assumed a martial stance to meet the challenge. At that juncture, one who looked to be their leader flourished his whip and let out a high-pitched shriek; that same instance, from an unexpected quarter another warrior leaped forward, somersaulting in the air, to strike a surprising blow at Zakhertan Yozdek’s back of the head.

Zakhertan’s reflexes being as good if not better he warded-it-off successfully, then went on to fighting for quite a long while valiantly (and fiercely) without a let up against the subsequent vicious onslaughts from every direction, keeping them all at bay. Inwardly though, he wondered how long he could keep this up, for the leader's exceptional prowess clearly matched his own. Zakhertan was about to instigate the most plausible recourse which would have put him at an advantage when, at that precise moment the leader's whip having wound around Zakhertan's neck, instantly turned into a most vile, very poisonous snake. The viper simply arched its ugly head and struck Zakhertan between the eyes.  Zakhertan had soon after lost complete consciousness but sure enough, he did not die from it. Zakhertan’s life was in fact spared by the timely administered antidote and when he regained full consciousness, he found out that he was tightly bound and gagged.

After an unspecified time, Zakhertan was (roughly) hauled up by the two stout, nine feet tall armed guards, lugged like a common, convicted criminal through a tunnel, and then brought (deposited) before a secret tribunal. On the dais, seated in the centre as the head of the tribunal, was none other than Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, who now met Zakhertan's eyes triumphantly. He ordered that the prisoner’s gag be removed.

02- LORD ASGER THUXUR MARROG ZHON (182)JP

Zakhertan after leering menacingly at Lord Zhon, hurled curses at Asger but Zakhertan’s torrent of verbal abuses and curses fell on deft ears! Resisting that strong ominous foreboding gradually taking root in the depths of his soul, Zakhertan challenged Lord Asher Zhon and then each and everyone at the podium to engage him in mortal combat.

He would take them all on, simultaneously, if they dared!

But Lord Zhon's maddening response had been to grin at him simply, condescendingly. The mocking, stifled laughter from the others goaded Zakhertan Yozdek further, to the breaking point. He lunged forward towards the podium to get at Lord Zhon but was violently yanked back and restrained most brutally (with super-human strength) by the armed guards flanking him.

Lord Zhon at this point inclining his head slightly said few inaudible words to the person on his left who, acquiescing (nodded) stood up and removed his mask. To Zakhertan Yozdek’s great surprise and consternation he saw that the person was none other than his most trusted minister Qarzten Caimund.

"You have brought this upon yourself," Qarzten Caimund bristled, his words spat out like acid, “pity you can only be killed but once!"

03- QARZTEN CAMUND (33)JP4

Zakhertan Yozdek’s ire had about reached its zenith; before he could unleash his vicious rebuke on Qarzten Caimund however, the masked man to the left of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon had briskly stepped forward and, with a sonorous voice, his stare unyielding, dispensed his orders in an incomprehensible language to the guards. Once more to Zakhertan Yozdek’s deep dismay he realized that this voice too, had sounded most familiar…But who could it be?

"I am surrounded by traitors!" Zakhertan indignantly hissed and gnashed his teeth as he pivoted his icy, defiant gaze back on the masked man. Nevertheless, Zakhertan could not rightly discern (ascertain) the individual for which the voice had belonged to, even though for a fleeting second, he had about recognized those steel-gray eyes!

Zakhertan’s subsequent taunts were again maddeningly ignored, by which time the guards had already grabbed (grasped) hold of his arms and, unceremoniously, like a common criminal, ejected him outside. With his feet dangling about two inches off the ground, he was being hauled down the corridor towards the subterranean dungeons, when he had unexpectedly just then eyed (spotted) a scholar in one of the rooms they were about to pass by, which Zakhertan instinctively knew it was scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald. At this point, as if deliberately (by design), the guards stayed their footing long enough for Zakhertan to witness Fradel mounting the dais and wiping away all the incense bowls, candlesticks, and offerings on the Yozdek Ancestral Altar. The scholar had done this with one sweep of the sword that happened to be the twin of Zakhertan's own State Sword, save for the fact that this blade did not glow blood red but had instead, radiated with clear blue luminosity (emitted blue light). Fradel Rurik Korvald’s ensuant (consequent) strike then had decapitated Zakhertan Yozdek’s full size alabaster statue; the head with a loud thud had hit the ground and rolled till it had reached the doorway. Just as Zakhertan was about to be again carted away, the scholar’s glare squarely pivoting Zakhertan’s, he derisively sneered: "This is what awaits you: Hell, and damnation for all eternity! Very soon, you’ll be made to atone for your immense, appalling crimes. "

04- SCHOLAR FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC) (4)JP

“Impudent academic pest, you dare threaten me?” Zakhertan Yozdek with his (pent up) incessant loathing of the scholar class, in great fury akin to that of a wild beast lunged at Fradel Rurik Korvald, but once more he was violently yanked back by the guards, making the chains bite further into his flesh. Seeing red and spurting venom, his strength fueled now by his erupting rage, he jostled both guards and was about to best them with his super-human strength when, he was bludgeoned (assailed, bashed) hard at the back of the head by a third guard that had suddenly manifested on the scene. All the guards then rancorously (viciously) kicked and punched him in the head, ribs, and groin until Zakhertan doubled over in pain. He was, however, merely feigning defeat; suddenly in a violent burst, he snapped (shattered) his chains and agilely grabbed hold of the weapon fastened at the waist of one of the guards then in lightening speed dealt him a fatal blow just as the guard threw his head back and guffawed. The guard’s decapitated head with a loud thud hit the ground and rolled away. In a blinking of an eye, Zakhertan had next directed the cleaver (axe) onto the rest of the guards flanking him at three sides and instantaneously in three lightening consecutive strokes separated their heads from their necks. Their heads too, one after another tumbled onto the hard ground with loud thuds, bounced then rolled. Zakhertan’s fierce gaze now fell on the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.  "Prepare to meet your maker!" he bellowed.

The scholar however quite unperturbed simply held out his hand; he had such majestic bearing behind that formidable unspoken command that astounded Zakhertan involuntarily halted (stayed) his advance.

"It is Heaven's will that we shall duel, but not at present and not here." The illustrious scholar Fradel having then uttered these cryptic words in an even tone vanished into thin air.

"To Hell with Heaven's will…I demand that you be manifest spineless cur and face your doom!" Heedless of the God's wrath, Zakhertan brandishing his cleaver barked his challenge. Fradel Rurik Korvald however did not reappear, leaving Zakhertan Yozdek utterly incensed (exasperated). But then Zakhertan’s good sense taking hold, he knew instinctively that reinforcements would be upon him soon if he dallied in this spot any longer; aborting this fruitless endeavor hence, he swiftly made his escape. He advanced for unspecified time in pitch darkness, stumbling once or twice over a projection (ridge, knob) half- imbedded in the hard ground.

Suddenly, mysteriously Zakhertan found himself transported to the subsidiary highway at the outskirts of the Capital Province Holger. This main artery (thoroughfare) was thronged with dismal (miserable) fleeing citizens of all ages and status, incessantly trudging alongside their overburdened carts and animals, but in the opposite direction from Zakhertan. At the distance, an abandoned Village and fields could be seen still ablaze, intermittently darkening the sky with grayish tint. Amidst the deafening noise Zakhertan too, relentlessly pushed his way through the chaotic mayhem (commotion) which oftentimes sporadically intensified, by the barrage of missiles launched from a hidden enemy post, finding their mark. Zakhertan eventually passed through the battered and unmanned gate, bearing the obvious signs of frantic, decisive battle, to advance towards the second checkpoint. But here too were the prevalent signs of past violent assaults, the obvious mark of defeat and the consequential rampant genocide that had spared no being, animal, or solid structure. And when the incessant (unremitting) winds suddenly shifted, an all-encompassing volley (barrage) of dark smoke and haze anew rushed at him to suffocate his lungs, sting his eyes, and temporarily obscure his vision. Nonetheless, as he made his steadfast (unwavering) advance, he continued to espy (observe) the copious amount of death and destruction, scorched buildings, granaries, destroyed battlements, crumbled ramparts and ditches (trenches) filled with blood-red flow that also encapsulated countless chopped-up corpses in that sea of blood, indicative of the final defense which had failed to stem the gargantuan onslaught. This degree of trouncing of his once mighty forces and the ensued an all-out pandemonium which still raged in three or four sectors, sickened Zakhertan’s heart, and mounted his ire (indignation and fury).

05- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK'S IRE 999 (9)

At least the inner walls of the core of Capital were not breached and the locked iron gates remained durably intact!

Later still, after stealthily unearthing the secret latch, Zakhertan with sure footing had quickly descended the stone steps then, advanced fearlessly through the snaking, pitch dark subterranean tunnels which he had had it constructed a long, long time ago for such an eventuality. After an indefinite period when at dusk he finally emerged at the above ground, an implausible (shocking) scene once more confronted his eyes; as his ears same time was assailed with the incessant shouts: “Run, run for your lives! Hedenko’s wrathful army will soon be poised at the gates! May Heaven have mercy on our wretched souls; may death come swiftly to us all and let us be spared from the extreme savagery of Kontu’s militia!" Consecutively blocking the path of eleven frantic citizens Zakhertan confirmed that, all of Channing’s defenses had indeed been breached and Royal armada had all but burned to cinders; furthermore, the winged regiments to the very last rider, (wiped out, eradicated) had been vanquished and, Wenjenkun’s armies on all three fronts had suffered heavy losses.

Presently, the firebombs from cannons raining down had continued to incessantly light up the skies and fostered still more chaos and cataclysms on core of Channing; this, lasting well into the small hours of the night. Civilians and gentry continued to run pell-mell, scattering in sheer panic and, doing their best to avoid the devastating, searing fires that engulfed everything it touched. The catapulted missiles of rock which exploded upon impact, however, still lodged their shards in soft flesh and rivulets of blood trickled down the cobblestone alleyways. By dawn (daybreak), shattered objects and severed limbs were seen strewn everywhere; the besieged Inner city too, was now engulfed in an inferno of burning, swirling debris that resembled scenes from Hell, once depicted in the paintings of extinct religious sects. Zakhertan knew the portended outcome for Wenjenkun all too well, having inflicted such devastation himself on an innumerable conquered state. Invariably it had led to first, their total capitulation and then, complete annihilation; this time however, despite all the measures he had implemented to prevent such course, his own cherished Channing was the one enduring such a brunt (impact), from a foreign (Kontu's) aggression.

“How could things have come to such an aggrieved state?” Zakhertan highly incensed, gnashed (ground) his teeth.

Suddenly however, Zakhertan Yozdek was back in the North Palace, transported there as if he had willed it by magic. Here too, similar chaos reigned. He accosted two or three panicked palace staff though, oddly, this time none had responded to his queries, commands, or threats, as though he was invisible and inaudible to all.

 Peering into a grand room which in the past had been used to discuss matters of national security and covert operations, he observed (and overheard) nine ministers, not the usual bunch, congregated around the huge round table, charting out a course of escape for those whose lives would otherwise be forfeited when after the anticipated total capitulation. Occasionally they would look right past him at the intensifying panic outside then return their overwrought, haggard gazes to the grim task of discussing the alternatives. It wrenched Zakhertan Yozdek’s gut to see the disillusionment in their eyes; they did not hear his subsequent commands however, or words of encouragement, nor his eventual reprimands and threats.

06- ZAUR STUGR  IN WARROOM JP (7)

Is that one, Minister Zaur Stugr?

But before Zakhertan could take a second look, responding to an alarm bell they had all rushed out of the room, one or two of them passing right through Zakhertan, armed only with their ill-conceived plans for escape.

Zakhertan turned and went down the corridor towards the milling crowd in the audience chamber, noting along the way how the four prized frescoes commemorating his two consecutive fantastic battles had all been shamefully defaced and vandalized. Other brilliant works of art, particularly marble or iron sculptures, by the famed artists of their time were also utterly ruined or carted away; shame of it all, this had happened even before the enemy had set foot in the Palace. Unmistakable signs of infighting explained in part, the failure of the Wenjenkun's strong defenses; furthermore, key evidence in plain sight and obvious to Zakhertan, disclosed that despite all his measures, traitors and subversives had still infiltrated his Court. Heaven knows how long ago Hedenko had planted these moles in their very midst to bring about this devastation?

Zakhertan’s rapid steps led him to the Ancestral shrine (temple); there too he noted how everything, memorial tablets and monuments, century’s old sacrificial vessels all lay strewn about in shambles and in heaps of rubble. Passing by a closed window he happened to see just then, the Royal Stables engulfed in red hot flames and his purebred black stallion Night Thunder being led out of the building with a cloth over his eyes. He at once burst through the windowpane to land at the patio, leaped over the low railing and, surprised that he was corporeal once more, threw the stable hands aside to swiftly mount his beloved horse. His magnificent steed obeying his command and charging in lightning speed, Zakhertan now wielded his state sword to vanquish thousands of the Kontu warriors, which had by then, on mass infiltrated the Palace. But eventually accepting the hopelessness of his situation, he made good his escape and outdistanced any dogged enemy’ pursuits. After entering a secret tunnel and riding at full gallop through the perilous course, he finally emerged at outside of the city walls and proceeded to put a safe distance between him and the ceding (yielding, surrendering) Channing. Mindful of the discussed info by his Ministers in the operations’ room, he spurred his horse towards the west for endless days and nights over the harshest terrain regardless of the danger attempting to reach this farthest point of his Kingdom. His Ministers had spoken of a prediction that there in the wasteland would arise in future, a (virtuous) righteous Dragon Lord. He was sure that it would be he, Zakhertan Yozdek, who would rally and regroup the tattered remnants of his once formidable militia, forming a new, more invincible army (encompassing cavalry, heavily armed infantry soldiers, guerrilla force and legionnaires, etcetera), and after a series of glorious punitive campaigns, retake the land (reclaim his kingdom) from the loathsome invader Emperor Deng Hedenko. Nor would he stop there, for he would exact revenge most foul, and wipe the entire nation of Kontu and all its allies from the face of the Earth!

 Zakhertan would have ceaselessly ridden on until he had arrived at his destination, but after nine days of non-stop gallop, Night Thunder had reached the end of his tether. Zakhertan, now finding himself at the edge of a forest where a creek wound its way out into a meadow, dismounted at a clearing to allow his favorite mount a well-earned respite. Feeling suddenly parched, he knelt at the edge of the stream on one leg and cupped his hands to lift bit of the pristine clear water to his lips; but the color unexpectedly turned to crimson, and that same instant, the water transformed into pure blood in both taste and smell. Shrugging, he nevertheless drank a good measure until his thirst was satiated (satisfied, quenched); unfortunately, he had little success in urging Night Thunder to do the same.

Hearing a ruffling, crunching sound just then, Zakhertan dove fearlessly into the thick, tall undergrowth to investigate; he was hoping to encounter at the end of it a small campsite belonging to Wenjenkun’s remnant squadron, headed in same direction as him, having their repast (meal). In any case, there would be fodder (hay) for his steed. Homing in on the noise (pitch) of masticating, he ceaselessly advanced through the shrubbery (thicket) thick with thorns and thistles, which consequently, bloodied his arms and legs. Unfortunately, Zakhertan’s hopes were dashed when he finally cleared the dense bushes only to discover (come across) a solitary, dilapidated hut at the periphery of a coniferous forest. In bold strides he nevertheless advanced right up to the door and finding the door locked, kicked it open. Audaciously, quite unconcerned of any ambush, he then stepped confidently through the portal; but straight away his face blanched and he guardedly backed away a step.

07- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  ENCOUNTERS HELLHOUNDS 999 (6)

 He was not dead yet; for what reason had he stumbled upon these hellhounds? Zakhertan inwardly queried, eyeing the two grotesque creatures ravenously feasting, tearing away chunks from deceased human corpses piled high in centre of the dimly lit room, as he same time warily retreated (drew back) now towards the door. Halfway, his attention was suddenly rapt (gripped) by the beast that was gnawing on the bleeding arm of, obviously the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s, with his forefinger still bearing a signet ring. That same instance the much larger hound squatted beside it had turned his head to reveal in its maw, a partial torso, and the head (hanging from it only by the bare backbone) of Egil Viggoaries.

The single blazing eye affixed on Zakhertan Yozdek, the enormous hellhound predictably growled and started to rise. Now that he’d been discovered, Zakhertan opted to in haste flee from this terrible predicament but his legs in defiance of his will had turned obstinately sluggish; worse still, just before they were completely rendered immobile (turned to stone), he’d tripped (stumbled) on a jutting piece of hard metal, which send him flying face first through the rotted floorboards and into a deep cavity piled high with putrid, dismembered corpses. When he strove to climb out of this macabre foxhole, his progress at first was stymied (thwarted, hindered) by the limbs of the dead that clanged (affixed) onto him, as though they deliberately were trying to hinder (impede) his escape. He nevertheless quickly dug himself out of the pit of putrid bodies and sharp, fractured bones but as consequence his facial features and body was permanently marred, bore deep lacerations, in at least four or five places. His legs mercifully having once more regained their strength, he darted towards the door; meanwhile, he could hear the growling hellhounds closing in on him fast from behind.

 

(END OF SECTION 2)                                                                                       ~

 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 25

Once outside, Frastos and Briac’s path led them hurriedly through bustling streets, intersections, and busy marketplaces.  Turning eventually into the side streets, then alleys followed winding pathways that skirted the more dangerous neighborhoods until they eventually halted before the awesome gate of Guzor Temple. 

01- FRASTOS - JP 10

Frastos with some effort pushed open the creaking bronze gate that was flanked by two giant (menacing looking, fierce) marble door Gods and then stepped aside to allow Briac to enter the temple grounds first. Once inside, Briac, with an uneasy, unapplicable feeling suddenly gripping his chest cavity (certain trepidation suddenly gripping his chest) halted his step (stayed his footing) and then with vigilant (wary) eyes surveyed the dilapidated, totally devoid of soul (empty, deserted) courtyard.  Suddenly, however, both Frastos and Briac had instantly found themselves facing an imposing veteran warrior (in his forties) wielding a cudgel; one who was far stronger and more agile than he let on, having manifested god knows from where, on the very scene.

"This area is forbidden to all."  He glared at Frastos and Briac with equal hostility, as he stood firm menacingly blocking their way.  "Trespassing is punishable by death.  Heed my advice and turn back at once then no harm shall befall you."

"Good sir, we are law abiding citizens."  Briac bowed gallantly, "Of course we shall do as you say."

"As soon as we are allowed to see the: “Plum blossoms that adorn the beauty passing under them."  Frastos hastily interjected (cut in).

The warrior narrowed his eyes and with the stern visage scrutinized (eyed) them both suspiciously for a brief spell; subsequently, a curious wry smile registering fleetingly on his lips, as he turned to address Frastos.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place," he ejected in his strong, husky voice, nodding.

His effort at being congenial clashed terribly with his fiery, hostile gaze.

02 - WARRIOR GUARD

"I suppose there is no harm in letting you take a peek.  Please follow me, gentlemen," with a gesture of his hand he led them to the interior.

"I must ask you to keep quiet next time.  Let me do the talking." Briac whispered, tugging on Frastos' sleeve as they were led in tow.

They had passed under several archways, had taken what seemed like a thousand turns, until they had lost all sense of direction.  After descending an endless set of stone stairs, they suddenly found themselves in a huge underground hall.  Brilliant frescoes adorned the walls.  Scenes depicted deities and sacrificial rites, so painfully detailed, so lifelike that both Briac and Frastos cringed visibly despite themselves.

 The warrior guard bade them wait in the center of this great hall then disappeared swiftly behind one of a set of six great doors.

He reemerged a moment later with ten stout armed men in tow who swiftly surrounded Briac and Frastos.  "What business do you say you have with us?" one, who looked to be their leader, stepped forward to demand.

Again, Frastos jumped in before Briac had the chance to speak, "I, Briac, have delivered here to you, sir, the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald himself, for just and due elimination."  He pointed at Briac.

The blood in Briac's veins froze in fright.  Understanding the treachery, his face darkened in anger.

"You…"  Before Briac had the chance to utter another word, however, all ten stepped forward towards him and, in a choreographed dance of steel, instantly cut him down to pieces, right where he stood, he was dead before he could have another intake of breath (or exhale).

When it was promptly over, "We thank you." their leader bowed to Frastos.

03- LEADER

 "We've been monitoring your advance closely since the checkpoint at Zakoz and were on the point of launching a fool proof assault tonight.  Now, instead, we will feast to our easy success since you so brilliantly spared us the trouble.  I hope that you will enlighten us during our celebrations on how you successfully lured Fradel Rurik Korvald away from captain Zunrogo's protective custody and delivered him right into our lair.”

Frastos had, in fact, hoped to leave immediately but he could see no way out.

He graciously consented, though he knew that this meant his life would be forfeited.  He had, however, accepted this assignment despite the likelihood of this very outcome, so he trailed the Chief through the six great doors to the banquet hall where the feast was to be held in his honor.

He was quickly ushered to a seat next to the Chief, which was a mark of privilege and, an apt tribute for his rendered service tonight. The table was already set with mountain of meat, all kinds of local delicacies, towering exotic fruit and countless jugs and cups, all filled to the brim with variety of alcoholic brew (beverages).

04- FRASTOS - JP 09

 Frastos ate his fill and drank merrily; knowing that soon the news of the captain and two guards booking passage then sailing off on a riverboat would reach them and expose his deception.  By then, however, Fradel Rurik Korvald would be safely away from their murderous reach, and he would have done his duty.  All he could hope for now was an honorable and glorious, swift death. Looking around him, he sized up the opposition and contemplated which ones he could dispatch into the nether world before his own fatality.

An unseen eye of a Kozur affiliate (cloaked in dark attire), known as simply Tenzo, perched on a roof, however, carefully studied this courageous youth that had been so callously sacrificed by Captain Zunrogo. Kozurs could use such a valiant, highly skilled warrior; in fact, Frastos had been for some time now under their radar, a surveillance, and owing to the favorable report, Tenzo had already sent a message (written word through carrier pigeon) requesting backup, for his planned rescue. Hidden by the shadows, he now waited for the apt opportunity, as he contemplated on the steps he would take, for that successful execution of his most daring plan.

05-TENZO (KOZUR AFFILIATE)JP

      ~

 “It’s inconceivable but, owing to the Xekor Festival, every boat in the harbor has been booked solid.  Even so, Tizan, capably found an official dispatch boat returning to Kenzor port and having settled the amount of the fare, has booked us a joint passage on this craft." Zunrogo succinctly informed Fradel, as they hastened towards the bustling harbor.

Making every effort to be congenial, he smiled, "The inconvenience will be for a short duration only. Once in Kenzor we stand a better chance at obtaining swifter, more suitable transportation to Channing.  Taking this roundabout route may also deter any pursuit from those who wish us harm."

"What about Frastos and Briac; are they to be left behind?” Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) inquired. 

“Their services are no longer required?"  The captain ejected curtly.

Fradel looked away uneasily, "Briac I understand, but Frastos?"

Zunrogo had ceased to be surprised by Fradel's keen insight.  "It could not be helped." He said coldly, keeping up the fast pace.

"At least Frastos witnessed the ten thousand cuts on…" Tizan, walking on Fradel's other side, had started to say when he was abruptly silenced by an icy glare from Zunrogo.

Still that partial phrase had been enough for Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) to grasp the unhappy outcome.

06-NEVETSECNUAC  JP 3

“So, that had been the fate of the traitor, Briac?  But what of Frastos; had he been sacrificed merely to give them this small leeway?”  Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was dismayed by the thought. Though he had little to do with Frastos, since the time at the first Inn where they had made eye contact through the hole in the tapestry, he was, nevertheless, being a good judge of man's character, had deemed Frastos as an upright, courageous and a loyal subordinate, yet his death obviously mattered so little to Zunrogo and Tizan. 

“What kind of hardhearted monsters are you?”  Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) stole a discreet, contemptuous look at them both.

Zunrogo grinned coolly and looked away as if he’d just then read Fradel’s mind.

                                                                             ~

 

(END OF SECTION 25)                                                                 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 22

The following morning, Fradel Rurik Korvald(Nevetsecnuac) and Yenis Luko  woke at dawn and, after their ablutions, ate some dry rations and then  readied the luggage.   Leading the horse by the bridles (reins) with Yenis mounted in the saddle, Fradel negotiated their way down the sodden path which was occasionally blocked by moss covered rocks or fallen tree limbs; once out of the periphery of the forest, Fradel still holding onto (halters) straps and on feet, guided the horse onto the highway in the direction of Wincox City. They had not gone far, however, before they were suddenly surrounded (ambushed) by some seventy-to eighty-mounted guards (constabularies) armed with lances (spears) who’d raced to encircle them.

One of the guards reaching out grabbed her arm and dismounted her; she was roughly thrown on to the ground and landed on her rear, next to Fradel (Nevetsecnuac). Fortunately, her physical state, being sturdier than it looked, had suffered no ill effects. Ignoring Fradel’s concerned queries, unexpectedly just then, Yenis, fell on her knees before the captain and pleaded for mercy but all her entreaties (implorations) went unneeded by the stone-faced Captain who, instead, refusing to listen to any reason, hurled threats and obscenities at both Fradel and Yenis, while his men loutishly bound and gagged Fradel and Yenis then tossed (threw) them both into an iron cage mounted on a wagon, to be carted into the city’s prison. 

Along the way, Yenis, shaking from head to toe like a leaf, all curled up in a ball in the corner of the cage, whimpered pitifully till at one point she simply passed out; however, the scornful guards simply sneered and refused to check in on her condition.  As it was, under the guise of a scholar, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), had been constrained from using his martial prowess to extricate them from this trouble; hence, he’d meekly surrendered to this grave injustice. 

Surely the matter would be clarified at Court, soon enough. Nevetsecnuac had mistakenly supposed (assumed).

 Upon reaching their destination, however, the prisoners were then hustled into a dark, damp and dreary dungeon where they were immobilized in a pillory and locked up for the night.

The following morning, Magistrate Turo of Birgergon County, having set aside the documents from his other, minor cases, was examining Fradel's papers in detail when he suddenly grew flushed in the face.

"This is no simple matter of trespassing.  One cannot just sentence him to death and have done with it."  With a grave visage he sprang to his feet and rushed off at once to his private chamber back where he summoned his subordinates and confidants to a conference.

"The emperor’s edict, which has stood for these last twenty years, allows no exception." He summed up after the briefing.  "Yet how could we prosecute an important personage such as Fradel Rurik Korvald, who clearly enjoys His Majesty's good graces, and still escape the consequences of disobeying the Imperial guarantee of safe passage contained in these documents?"

Turo cupped his head in his hands as the others exchanged worried glances, knowing that their fate was sealed along with that of the Magistrate.  The more outspoken of them ventured hastily thought-out suggestions which only served to infuriate the Magistrate.  Increasingly agitated, Turo drummed his fingers on the desk and demanded immediate, more satisfactory answers to his dilemma.

The bookish Assistant Chief Constable, who had kept a thoughtful silence up until then, picked up his courage, noisily cleared his throat to command the attention of the silent group then spoke, "There is, unfortunately, another serious concern, related to this one, which also needs to be addressed, Your Honor."

 He retrieved a piece of paper, a wanted poster, from the leather wrap and, unfolding it, presented it to the Magistrate.

 "I received this by special courier from the Prefect's Office just this last hour, and was on the point of having it duplicated and distributed.  Please, Your Honor, note carefully how the description of the female criminal on the left tallies perfectly with the features of Fradel Rurik Korvald's accomplice. “

“Furthermore, since she was in Fradel Rurik Korvald's company when she was apprehended, I would venture to guess that he is the hunted male criminal on the right."

 All heads one by one nodded in concurrence, as the wanted poster was passed around from hand to hand.

"It's definitely her, Your Honor. But the male's description is rather vague (sketchy). Nevertheless, we must agree with Lu's assumption that it could very well be the Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald."

"Of course, the final word rests with you, Your Honor."

"Confound it!  More problems!" the Magistrate barked.

 He burrowed his piercing eyes into Lu, venting his fury on the bearer of this news,

"I suppose you would be the one to pile more rocks on my premature grave.  Bah!  I asked for an apt solution, not more complications."

As the Assistant Chief Constable withdrew to the back, muttering apologies for his untimely introduction of this news, a few of his colleagues hastened to appease Turo.

"Your Honor it may be good that we became aware of it now, so that we can take it into consideration."

"Yes, this is to our advantage, for later on it could have proven disastrous."

Subsequent (Pursuing) hours of intense deliberation, the conference finally produced a suitable resolution all could agree on: The Magistrate would not hold the court in Wincox City but would defer the matter in its entirety for proper disposition by Prefect Micen Do in his superior court in Denor City, the site of the alleged crime. 

Assenting, the relieved Magistrate wiped the perspiration from his brow (forehead) and swiftly drafted a detailed account of the trespassing crime, included a sworn deposition from his guards, and added an inflated account of the great expense incurred in apprehending these felons.

Magistrate Turo then ordered heavier racks to be fitted for the necks of both prisoners and, that they are dispatched that same day under heavy guard to the Prefecture in Denor to await their trial and the subsequent punishment.

 The captain (furnished with Fradel's sealed identity papers, sealed summons along with a special insert from the inept Magistrate, the transfer order and papers of indictment on the trespassing charge), along with one hundred armed guards, escorted the prisoners in heavy chains locked up inside a caged cart, out of the city.

As mentioned earlier, the trouble having transpired in such proximity to the capital province Holger, Nevetsecnuac, under the guise of scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, had been constrained to remain within the bounds of scholar’s faculties (abilities) and therefore, had endured (tolerated) this grave injustice.  Nevertheless, his contingency plan had considered the possibility of this matter not being cleared up by the Prefex Micen Do either, in which case, he then planned to take direct action and make good his escape, preferably at an apt opportunity and place with minimal (disruptive) consequences.

 Unfortunately, he had grossly underestimated the seriousness of his nightmarish situation, the dept of corruption and the strong security measures that truncated any possibility of justice or effecting escape, not in Wincox City, nor on the way to the Prefectural Seat in Denor.

 

                                                                                 ~

05-- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC)) AND YENIS, IN CHAINS

Arriving at the Denor city gates by mid-morning, they (prisoners, Captain and the guards) were all instantly plunged into a large, hostile crowd of common citizens.  Obviously bribed and coached, the indignant crowd which waited for them tormented the prisoners all along the route to the Prefect's Office.  Yenis and Fradel were pelted with an assortment of ripe fruit, rotted eggs, slimy and foul-smelling human and animal excrement as well as being subjected to furious vilification, threats, curses and blows to the head and back from those who had brought along thick poles for the purpose.

The stern, hard faced Prefect, Micen Do, on being informed of the prisoners' arrival, immediately took up his seat and called his court into session.  With order finally restored, Micen Do had the bailiffs bring both prisoners forward.

 As was customary at the start of any trial the male accused, Fradel, was brought forward, stripped to the waist and given fifty heavy strokes with iron rods, on his back until the flesh broke.  Not satisfied with the damage thus inflicted on Fradel's sturdy form, Micen ground his teeth in contempt and ordered another twenty strokes, accusing the bailiffs of being too lenient (humane, merciful) in their beating of the prisoner.  To his chagrin, not a whimper or plea was attained from stubborn Fradel’s lips, robbing the Prefect and the gleaned (gathered, assembled) crowd the sought after perverse satisfaction.

Grumbling under his breath, Micen Do summarily looked over the indictment papers with a hard visage. He then picked up the documents bearing the formal complaint and the death warrant itself.  Briefly glancing at the report from Magistrate Turo, he brushed aside Fradel's identity papers with a huff, barely noting even Fradel's full name.

"The charge of trespassing is solid; we can therefore dispense with any hearing on that matter.  The sentence is death."  He moved to quiet the cheering from the crowd then looked up to formally charge both of the accused with the added crimes of murder, mutilation and robbery of the honorable Senson Luko.

 "I will withhold the sentence of death pending the outcome of this trial, so as to determine by the proceedings the severity of the criminals' torture and the means of their death."

The prisoners were not permitted to enter a plea or say a single word in their defense at this point in the proceedings.  Instead, the court clerk, as ordered, stepped forward and read out loud the highlights of the case against them, including the corroborating testimonies of the brothers of the deceased and the servants of the Luko household.

The picture painted was most incriminating.  Yenis was described as a wanton, shamefully promiscuous woman, guilty of immoral misconduct, carrying on (with untold no of men) secret rendezvous and illicit affairs, who on the night in question had smuggled her latest lover, Fradel, into her husband's private library in order to commit murder.

The summation was concocted from the Prefect's own conjecture and read out to the court.  "After this vile, gruesome deed was accomplished, both the accused pilfered (made off with) many of the valuables, to enable them a fresh start elsewhere.  Making good their escape, they successfully eluded the constables on their trail until, after hiding out in a site forbidden by Imperial decree, where no honest citizen would dare tread, they were apprehended (ensnared) by the good and proper forces of the law. Guilty as they are of such reprehensible (appalling) acts, they deserve no mercy from this court."

 The (jovial outcry) cheers of the spectators painted a sinister smile on the Prefect's ugly, scar-ridden face as he delayed restoring order to the courtroom.

06-PREFECT MICEN DO

There was only slim evidence, vague at best, from the only eyewitness, the old gatekeeper, concerning the identity of the lover.  Familiar with such goings on, he had failed to get a good look at the man in the dark as the two made their getaway.  He had just minded his own business and had not raised the alarm until the grisly discovery of the following morning which brought to light the full scope of their crime.  However, this lack of solid evidence did not deter Prefect, with the persistent finger of guilt pointed at Fradel; it was enough that he had been caught along with Yenis.

"Fradel Rurik Korvald is guilty as charged by his association with a known criminal alone, there being an absence of factual evidence in this matter."

Prefect Micen Do then rush through the verbal questioning of the witnesses, practically coaxing their testimony from them in order to achieve the desired effect. 

He was constrained to follow at least the appearance of proper judicial procedure even though he was completely blinded to any sense of justice in his eagerness to secure a guilty verdict for both the accused, Yenis and Fradel.

Why was he so prejudiced?  It was because he wished to set a precedent here.  For some time now, moral standards in Denor have been particularly lax.  Since many fine, upstanding gentlemen, including the Prefect himself, liked to idle away their time consorting or ogling the beautiful courtesans and other loose women, in thriving establishments of ill repute posing as respectable tea houses that had sprung up in a multitude all along the riverbanks.  The river Hain, whose course meandered along the immediate outskirts of the city, was often thronged with pleasure boats from which the singing, laughter and music drifted into the suburbs until all hours of the night, every night.

 In this liberal atmosphere it was left to these same promiscuous men to preach virtue to their wives and daughters and to keep them from straying and become the playthings of other men.  Such happenings would entail an ultimate loss of face for these pretentious family men.  Even Prefect Micen Do, whose wife was no great beauty and falling far short of the good looks Yenis bore despite her present disheveled condition, had vigorously guarded his wife's chastity (fidelity) from the time of their marriage ceremony with a particularly jealous obsession. As his second wife (first one was deceased) was much younger than him, Micen Do had kept her virtually imprisoned within the confines of their home, to prevent any probability of her straying. This criminal case (adultery and murder) had naturally struck at the insecure chord of his heart and aligned his sympathies from the start with the deceased cuckold, Senson Luko, who he feared could just as easily have been him.

With much of the preliminaries out of the way, it finally became Fradel's turn to be asked, merely as a formality, how he pleaded to the charge of murder, mutilation and robbery.  Instead of pleading guilty as he had been instructed to in jail, Fradel with dignified composure, defiantly looked Micen straight in the eye and boldly protested his innocence of all three charges.  On the advice of his senior assistant, the Prefect contained his burst of fury and overlooked Fradel's impertinence.  He ordered the keeper of the stores to produce the most incriminating evidence; the murder weapon itself, for the court and it was promptly set on the dais before the bench.

Picking up the knife, mottled with dried blood, Micen thundered, "Do you still persist in denying that this does not belong to you?  Do you deny that the inscription on the blade, an engraved 'F', stands for 'Fradel'?"  He thrust the blade towards Fradel at arm's length and stormed, "Confess your crime now, and your death will be swift.  Delay this court and you will suffer all the agonies of Hell."

Again, Fradel with unwavering resolve, stated his innocence.  With his stoic, heroic countenance he then, with eloquent speech, enumerated (pointed out) the blatant loopholes in these unfounded charges against him; and in doing so, broke into shambles all the evidence amassed against him.

This created a great stir in the court, propagating (sowing) serious dissension among the gleaned (assembled) onlookers, some of whom now wavered in their resolve about Fradel.  Some even loudly questioned the soundness of the authority's judgment and actions thus far, crying out that a great injustice had been done by Fradel Rurik Korvald, who was obviously innocent.

To root out this dangerous, disturbing development, the concerned Prefect Micen Do angrily interceded.  Pointing an accusing finger at Fradel, he cursed him as the worst kind of renegade, a dangerous, venomous scorpion who used his cunning abilities to stir up the crowd.  He then had Fradel trussed up like an animal, using even more chains to prevent him moving a muscle, and had him gagged, to prevent "Fradel's disruptive, treasonous outbursts."  Fradel was also given a dozen more lashes to subdue him and to appease Micen's (fury) ire.

Already prejudged guilty, merely as a formality, Yenis was next asked, under the threat of torture, to confess her guilt, elaborate on the details of her crime and admit to the whereabouts of the stolen goods, which the muddleheaded Prefect only then had recollected to ask.

07- YENIS'S TESTIMONY

"But I'm innocent, Your Honor.  I was forcibly abducted."  Yenis, bemoaning her fate, dropped to her knees and in a quivering (trembling), tragic tone pleaded for mercy from the Court.  Despite the overwhelming evidence against her, grasping at straw in her effort to escape her inevitable, horrible end, she then mesmerized the court and kept the spectators in rapt attention, swaying the facts and circumstantial evidence all in her favor.  Vehemently claiming her innocence and stating that she had been grossly wronged by malicious slanders, she pointed an accusing finger at Fradel, declaring that she had never before that cursed day set eyes on him, that after Fradel's brutal murder of her beloved husband, this lecher had forcibly abducted her and sexually assaulted her.

Many groaned in the courtroom, already having committed to memory Fradel's brilliant defense.

"I've been made to suffer enough injustices, Your Honor." Her tearful protest came next. "But I care little that my name is unjustly smeared with filth …that I'll be cut down in the prime of my life.  All that I ask is that I be allowed to mourn properly, like a dutiful wife should, for my beloved husband severed (torn) so prematurely from me.  Afterwhich, you may do with me as you wish, Your Honor.  You may torture me, slice me to ribbons, remove my entrails and feed them to the dogs.  I do not care if I'm ever reborn.  I still will not cry injustice then.  My life here or in the hereafter is of little consequence to me."  She sobbed uncontrollably, the very picture of a virtuous wife.

She was by no means finished with her very convincing melodramatic performance.  Following several more minutes of hysterical crying, she with a heart wrenching moan raised her shackled hands and, looking up again lamented (bemoaned) her fate.  "Oh pity, pity me; I’ve done nothing to deserve such agony; oh, but Heaven sees all, Heaven is the only true judge… Merciful Gods, bear witness, to this great injustice inflicted on me today!"  She tore off clumps of her disheveled hair and struck her forehead to the floor until a slight trickle of blood oozed over her eyes.

 As many gasped, she spread her arms helplessly and again casting her gaze upwards, swore, "May the Almighty Gods strike me dead, right here and now, with a fiery bolt from Heaven, render me to cinders if I'm trying to deceive Your Honor."

All present mechanically turned their heads, searching with fearful eyes upwards.  But of course, no lightning appeared.

"Have pity on me, Your Honor; for how can poor, defenseless women like me prove my innocence?  I swear I've been framed by those who had hoped to gain from my death.

I swear that I was taken against my will that day by this rogue, who had butchered my dear husband and made me suffer such deplorable, unspeakable humiliations. “

“Oh, Heaven pity me; after all I've been through, I'm not deserving of this cruel treatment.  You’re Honor, look at me, look at me hard; can you not see that I’m no criminal!"

She continued to implore the Prefect in a hoarse, tragic tone, "Oh, you can't even begin to imagine what I've been made to endure.  Such shameful, vile torments I've suffered already by his hand!"

To substantiate her claim, she then tore open her sleeves to show the scratches and bruises on her arm, supposedly inflicted on her by her abductor, Fradel.

 She claimed that she had still worse ones all over her body.  "Would a lover do this to me?" she asked indignantly.

Many spectators, beguiled by her words and dramatic presentation, fixed Fradel with their burning, contemptuous glares while others, bug-eyed, simply gaped, sighed or shook their heads, wavering now in their assumption of her guilt.

Heated, animated discussions simultaneously erupted, first outside, then inside the courtroom between those that believed Yenis's innocence and saw her as a tragic victim and those that recalled Fradel's testimony or simply knew better.

Fradel, bursting with indignation and outrage, struggled violently against his shackles.  Some of the chains were stretched to the breaking point.  All who witnessed this gasped in fear and awe.  Some, who had been hardest on Fradel, now were tongue-tied, eyeing the exits as a pale-yellow streak ran down their backs.

Just then, on a signal from the Prefect, a serious blow to Fradel's head rendered him dizzy and almost unconscious.  He was vulnerable after all!  Those who, just moments before, were worried, grinned sheepishly at their own stupidity and cowardice; presently emboldened, they spat and cursed the prisoner.

Warm blood, meanwhile, oozed from the contusion, smearing half of Fradel's face.  He tasted the salty fluid (blood) on his lips, as he wavered in his stance, dancing stars and flashing lights appeared before his eyes.  He was surrounded by this crowd of ignorant nincompoops.  Easily swayed, they craved even more of his blood as the real culprit was winning their sympathies.

Even the stern visage of the Prefect was undergoing a significant change.  Secretly smitten by this beauty, he was mellowing.  Fortunately, a discreet whisper in his ear by his sound assistant Mouro, a former client of the Luko clan, quickly brought Micen to his senses.

"No use denying your guilt, vixen!" waving the documented proof in her face, he cursed Yenis.

 Fuming at having almost been made into a fool by her, he then shouted for her to be punished by five strokes to her legs. 

At once the heavy bamboo staffs (poles, sticks) mercilessly rained down on her frail, delicately shaped legs, each stroke intensified her ear-piercing shrieks and blood-curdling screams, evoking even more pity for her from the already beguiled crowd.

"Why punish her?"  They grumbled, biting their lips and shaking their heads.  "She is such a beauty, too."

"Silence in the court!"  The furious Prefect pounded his gavel on the bench to restore order.  When silence again reigned, Micen ordered the bailiffs to punish with blows the next one of the spectators who dared to utter a single sound of discontent.

Menacingly the bailiffs, with sinister smiles, held their bamboo staff high, ready to strike and searched the already cowering crowd for victims.

When Yenis was next questioned about the severed parts of her husband, Honorable Senson Luko, liver and heart and what became of them, she claimed ignorance of parts’ exact whereabouts and no amount of pressure applied could make her change her testimony.

Just then, when the Prefect again remembered the missing booty, he skipped over that line of questioning and asked instead of the whereabouts of it from her.

She fell on her knees and readily volunteered the answer; all the while sticking to her claim, that she had been taken to Kuno Temple by force where she had witnessed the culprit, Fradel, her abductor, burying it in the Large Hall.

 "With an aim to retrieve it later, the knave has cunningly disguised it as a burial mound for those cursed monks." she sneered.  "But, nevertheless, you'll find it under that pile of worthless bones.  He even threatened to bury me there, too, if I did not cooperate with his vile lust."  Cupping her face in her hands, she gave a convincing shudder, as if recalling his disgusting ogling of her.

Fradel could hardly contain his bursting rage, and a fierce storm grew in his heart.  What harm had he done her, to deserve such treachery?

Observing this, Micen grimaced in satisfaction, assuming this emotion attested to the truth of the facts but, in a second, his face again became clouded, for this presented him with a fresh set of problems, since the search for and retrieval of the goods would not be possible until after a special dispensation was secured from the Imperial Court.

On top of this, another worry also besets him.  Now that the burgled stash’s (loot's, plunder’s) whereabouts had been so carelessly disclosed to the entire court, he feared that, despite the penalty of death, some of the spectators may retrieve it before he could.  This meant even more effort and manpower to secure the temple area from such an unwanted intrusion.                                                                   

                                                    

Having no interest in the arts or literature, the name Fradel Rurik Korvald had meant absolutely nothing to Prefex Micen.  Fortunately, Ashrath, one of the court clerks, had chanced upon a volume of Fradel's poetry a couple of years prior as he was visiting a relative in the Capital, and he now suddenly recalled just who that name stood for, as well as the acclaimed poet's influence among the elite there.  He hastened forward to discretely whisper his warnings into the Prefect's ear, just before sentence was to be passed on the accused.

Suddenly an uproarious, boisterous laugh from the back rocked the entire courtroom, nearly shaking it to its foundation.  As if of one body, all heads turned to see a seated, fiery red-haired giant.

"Such insolence…  Who dares be so brazen and disorderly!  Bring forth the cheeky knave before me at once!" Micen bellowed.

The crowd (peeled) snapped apart in the middle to allow the rushing bailiffs to reach the culprit.  But the minute those in the lead came upon the stranger, still seated and glaring at them, they lost their nerves and froze perfectly still Like Mannequins allowing the rest that came after them to pile into them. 

The crowd outside the door craned their necks to see what was happening inside.

As the fierce stranger slowly rose to his feet and, with measured steps, walked weightily towards the Prefect, he looked even more formidable, and the intimidated bailiffs and the crowd once more voluntarily shrunk to the sides.

Unobstructed, the giant, (blazing) red-haired stranger walked straight to the bench, picked up the murderer's weapon and rammed the knife into the wood up to its hilt, barely missing Micen's knuckles.

Then, pointing a finger at the terrified Prefect, he thundered, "This trial is a travesty of justice, and you are not fit to be sitting on that seat."

 Panning the crowd with venomous eyes he bellowed, "All of you are beneath my contempt!" and he spat on the floor in disgust.

His intense gaze now turned back on the prefect, it burrowed deep into Micen's flesh, making the Prefect (break out) squirm in cold sweat.

With a wry grin the stranger growled, "Pay heed, for I will say this only once!  This man, known as Fradel Rurik Korvald, is innocent of any wrongdoing.  He is a gallant, principled young man whose only crime thus far is that he is too soft. Otherwise, he would not have found himself in this despicable mess (farcical situation).”

 He grimaced coldly, “If you had taken the trouble, you sorry excuse for a Prefect, to properly examine his papers you would have seen for yourself that he is a stranger to these parts.  I, myself, came across him at a remote inn in Zhingcho Province at the same time that your perjuring witnesses claimed that he was consorting with this vile, treacherous woman, whose lying tongue should be cut from her mouth."

 He had only to turn his burning gaze in her direction, his hand resting on the sword hilt at his waist, to cause Yenis to recognize him as the ghost in her room at Kuno Temple.  She shrieked and collapsed unconscious to the floor like a stone.

 "Bah!  The worm is not worth tainting my sword with her vile body fluids."

 With a snort of contempt, he again addressed Micen Do, "I will be leaving you now but, if in three days’ time Fradel Rurik Korvald is not released, you will answer for it to my sword's blade.  The metal thirsts for the heads of your kind."

09- IMMORTAL ZONAR KUNTZU

 With a cold sneer he turned his back to the Prefect, "I dare you to have your men obstruct my way!"

As he passed by Fradel, he stayed his footing (steps) just long enough to grimace at Fradel and bowed his head slightly. "I, Zonar Kuntzu, now return the favor."

He let out a boisterous, sinister laugh which grated on the nerves of the packed courtroom, then narrowed his eyes and, with a serious visage, advised Fradel, "You must harden your heart for what is to come and to finish the job I've started here."

As his hand saw the air, a sudden clap of thunder deafened everyone and immersed the courtroom in a thick mass of fiery smoke and light.  When it cleared, as fast as it had appeared, the stranger had disappeared into thin air.

All stood frozen, their tongues sticking out of gaping mouths, as they stared at the spot where, just seconds before, Zonar had stood.  It took some time before their breathing normalized, their heartbeat regulated, and they ceased trembling long enough to remember to retract their tongues.

Those with the stronger constitutions now jostled towards the door, stampeding over the bodies of the weaker ones who had fallen underfoot.  On their heels the rest followed, tottering (lurching) in streams to the outside.  Their knees knocking, their limbs trembling, they all repeated the persistent murmur etched on their lips, "Zonar!  Zonar!  We have seen the messenger of Death!"

The Prefect, having received the greatest scare of all (still tongue-tied,) at the urging of Mouro, finally regained his senses and power of speech. With his lackluster eyes, purple lips and pale, sickly face drenched in perspiration, he gave up any idea of restoring order to the court and, after dispatching the guards to search for the stranger, quickly adjourned the proceedings.  With the secretary carrying the bulk of the documents, he withdrew to his private quarters while the prisoners were hauled off to once more be pilloried in their dark cells.

(END OF SECTION 22)