LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 16

 "Once Zakhertan Yozdek had ascended the throne, the ensuing years had been the unparalleled goriest eon (era, age) in history." Hugen resumed his narrative (chronicle) after guzzling some more wine.  When he held out the jug for Uyuk to partake some, the latter, however, had declined, saying he had far too much already, that he would abstain for a while till his head cleared a bit, he just needed a breathing space, a respite.  Uyuk had urged Hugen nonetheless, to freely indulge, as the long night after all, stretched out before them.

01- UYUK  (20)JP

Yea, right! Hugen inwardly scorned, despising Uyuk for this unwarranted deceit.  Why feign such weakness?  Hugen knew Uyuk had not reached his limit, not by a long shot…Latter could handle more, quite a bit more.  Hugen knew this for a fact.  Not as much as he can, perhaps.  Still… 

For a spell he considered goading Uyuk until the latter dropped his guard and relented. Then again, why bother, Hugen dismissing the notion, good humouredly shrugged and helped himself to some more wine.

Uyuk, despite his feigned inebriated state, keenly, from the corner of his eye had scrutinized Hugen, for the faint-hearted could not have managed the quantity of strong spirits Hugen had consumed thus far and remained still, maddeningly so, sober. Considering the extreme potency, the wine had cost Uyuk quite a substantial sum; this brand of smooth, fruity blend being particularly high in alcohol content, should have way before this intoxicated/incapacitated the most resilient (robust constitution) of men, but not Hugen! Why was that?

The corner of Hugen’s mouth slightly lifted as if in amusement, anticipating Uyuk’s inner query, and he looked away; fact is, he needed to consume at least four or five times the amount, to be totally inebriated or brought to a happy state; a condition he'd rarely indulged and always had done so in solitude. After a while the amassed consumed quantity, however, had eventually derived some adverse effect; the consequential fleeting moment of light headedness and nostalgic reflections nevertheless, through sheer willpower quickly dispensed (passed), Hugen once more reverted his somber gaze on Uyuk.  His head, his thoughts the product of a cool, calculating mind once more lucid and unequivocally defined, Hugen’s deliberations was again embroiled in the selfsame grave, harsh realities of life. 

What's more, after the subsequent several swigs (mouthfuls) of this fruity concoction (booze), far from being mellowed out, his senses disappointingly instead, had felt tauter (tense, wound up); hence, Hugen disdainfully put the jug aside and, his breathing regulated, he indolently stretched out his limbs. But this did little in dousing the fire coursing in his hot veins, his muscles twitching and flexing in an invisible restless craze, yearning to engage in a mortal combat with an invincible, (challenging)formidable foe.

Affixing his gaze to the far corner, his hankering heart tinged with sadness, Hugen thoughtfully reflected on the multitude, past, memorable combats; there was singular one that stood above the rest, General Zonar Kuntzu, a warrior with indomitable prowess. Hugen had heard much about his fame, his brilliant feats. Unfortunately, Hugen's line of work had kept him always on a different course than the General’s; but once he had been fortunate enough to have been an eyewitness to a friendly combat between the General Kuntzu and another competent fighter. The breathtakingly spectacular fight had ended the same way, with General Zonar Kuntzu being the victor as always.

02-GENERAL ZONAR KUNTZU

Hugen donned an ironic smile on his lips and looked away. How easily General Zonar Kuntzu had bested his opponent!

After that day Hugen had honed his martial skills so that one day, he could try his own luck against the General; however, when finally, his competence was up to par (the equivalence), fate had cruelly intervened to cheat him out of that opportunity.

Inclining his head, Hugen with a blank stare studied Uyuk, thinking inwardly how Uyuk unfortunately presented no such challenge.  True, he had never pitted his martial skill against Uyuk but he had observed Uyuk's ability in combat with others and, though his partner was comparatively good, Hugen had concluded that he could easily defeat (best) him without resorting to draw upon any of his special expertise. There was one thing Uyuk excelled in, however, his ability to... Hugen threw Uyuk a covert look.  Only that, he nodded. Yes, I’ll have to watch out for that.  In a way Hugen was grateful for Uyuk's somewhat amenable company.  At least Uyuk amused him, not like those intolerable, overconfident, superstitious boors whose presence strained his patience and made his blood boil.

Requiring more solitude, Hugen pointedly lent an ear to the howling of the gale force wind and the drumming, pounding of the rain pellets outside.  Oh, the nights are always so intolerably long.  Hugen inwardly moaned thinking, especially for one such as him who was an insomniac. Unfortunately, the pelting hail outside was a good deterrent for a long, brisk stroll, which was what he most desired at that moment.  Resigned to stay put, he shifted his weight to get more comfortable then, once more, somberly resumed his narration where he had left off: "Yes, we weren’t the only ones who’d suffered from his rancorous (malicious, spiteful ) wrath; all who’d tried to undermine or obstruct Zakhertan Yozdek's aim, all suspected loyalists and dissidents in Wenjenkun, were vengefully rooted out, vanquished or incinerated." 

Hugen’s eyes met Uyuk's gravely and he nodded.  "Furthermore, all who griped or raised even the slightest discourse of his harsh measures, among them countless brilliant scholars from various backgrounds, the nobility, courtiers, religious personages, priests, sages, hermits, even the stray beggars; all without exception were persecuted relentlessly and tortured before an ignominious death. The countryside, hence, is dotted with a multitude of man-made pits of death, sepulchres and catacombs where Zakhertan’s countless past and present enemies are all buried.”

Hugen paused for an effect and then resumed: “There are also hidden subterranean chambers of torture, (constructed) in Channing, equipped with abhorrent, specially designed instruments, which prolongs, any convicted felons or dissidents’ excruciating physical and mental agony before their ignominious (humiliating) end.  Some of the holding cells, chiefly used for minor offences, are all the same, ingeniously constructed to perpetuate (beget) permanent insanity; and that’s not all, but it would take me far too long to extrapolate on them all."  Hugen shrugged. "Perhaps another time, eh… Anyway, to put it succinctly, Zakhertan Yozdek's reign has been marked with extreme brutality unrivaled by anyone in history save perhaps, only by Deng Hedenko in present times."  He threw his head back and laughed at Uyuk's baffled look.

 "The Sovereign of Korion, ignoramus (numskull) you," Hugen paused to savor the other's stifled rage at the insult. "To continue; after consolidating his power Zakhertan Yozdek lost no time in raising another mammoth (gargantuan) force, this time to punish us anew, but by that time our Illustrious Sovereign Anguan Binchan had succumbed to a fatal illness, thus robbing Zakhertan of his chief grievance.”

“Korion, meanwhile, had been rocked by a volcanic eruption and three subsequent earthquakes that ravaged two major cities and most of the countryside which depleted the precious remainder of our valuable resources, our strength and vitality.  What real resistance a devastated and leaderless nation could have offered? Of course, that mattered little to such a blood-thirsty fiend Zakhertan; as a matter of fact, he had even taken it into account and used it to gain an even more swift and decisive victory." Hugen bristled.  "An honorable campaign was not something he’d consider in his evil plans.  In no time at all, his superior, predatory forces swept across the adjacent, inconsequential provinces to descend on us voraciously, with but one directive: to annihilate our race from the face of the Earth.”

03- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (22) JP

"Ah, but we (every citizen of Korion) were equally determined (resolute) to deny him his easy conquest.  Even though from the start our defeat was a foregone conclusion, our patriots resisted Zakhertan for a year and a half.  Hah!  I'd venture to guess that it was the costliest and bloodiest campaign Zakhertan had ever waged.  Alas!  Despite our courage and brilliant strategies, our impoverished army was pitted against an invincible rapacious force that, at the crucial point in the struggle, received fresh reinforcements.  I do admit that, towards the end Zakhertan's military manoeuvring and strategic offensives were flawless as only one who is the demon incarnate can devise.  In one ingenious, final stroke he had both rebel cities capitulate simultaneously."

Hugen exhaled deeply, morosely, "And so, on the solstice of the third lunar year of the reign of our Illustrious Sovereign Harkan Konzuran Binchan, a terrible nightmare was unleashed on us all."  At this point, Hugen's tongue was stilled by the anger, bitterness, and scorn he felt at the core of his being.

"Is it true what I had heard?  That after the Capital yielded Zakhertan had our late Sovereign Anguan Binchan's corpse exhumed, supreme sacrilege that it was, had it torn into minute pieces and then scattered in various cesspools throughout the country?"

"Yes," Hugen nodded grimly, "and that's not all.  On Zakhertan’s orders his men went on a rampage, digging up all the ancestral graves, some Centuries old.  They desecrated the corpses and had the remains discarded into fast flowing rivers.  The valuable artifacts were all plundered then shamelessly carted off (lugged) to their homeland."  Hugen dropped his head, swallowing hard.  "After the gruesome, ignoble execution of our Sovereign Harkan Konzuran Binchan, anyone with even a trace of royal blood was rounded up and humiliated in a public spectacle designed specifically to break our spirit before they, too, were executed.  However, this had quite the opposite effect, for it only strengthened (fuelled) our people's resolve."

Uyuk hissed; his absent gaze fixed at the far corner.

Hugen looked up sharply, pleased at the outrage in Uyuk, noting his face flushed to beet-red, his chest palpitating with indignation at the same time as his fists clenched so hard that, his nails drew blood from the sheer force and intensity of his feelings.  For a spell Hugen had forgotten Uyuk's true origin, but then, suddenly his thoughts darkened.

“Who are you trying to fool?  It was your kind, your race that inflicted these atrocities on us.”  He shook his head and bit his lip to contain his inner contempt. It was a strange idea, a hard concept for this hard-core patriot to swallow.  “No matter what, I cannot conceive of how anyone can forsake their own kind, their own race and country as absolutely as you have done, Uyuk! And for what reason, a personal grievance?” 

Seeing Uyuk in this light he questioned the other’s professed loyalty to Korion.  “What’s your actual ulterior motive?  What kind of game are you playing at anyhow?” With narrowing eyes, he covertly scrutinized his partner.

“Get a grip on your-self!” he fought the urge to strike, to act immediately.  “There’ll be ample opportunity later.  Go along for now, soon enough he will show his true colors and expose his dark heart.  You can deal with him then.”

But again, defiantly such bursting fury rose from deep within.  “Why on Earth had he bothered at all?  Why had he stuck his neck out for Uyuk in the first place?  Was it the element of danger, the challenge it posed?  Had he wished to exploit Uyuk as a game, a way to gratify his dark, morbid sense, his hatred for Uyuk's kind?  Or was it something entirely different, an alien concept long since abandoned; plain old pity?”  Hugen detested this new ambivalent feeling and looked down (lowered his gaze), trying to think of something else.

In his silent brooding, now with his eyelids closed, he reflected yet again how Wushing, his entire family, his colleagues and anyone who had been even remotely connected with him had all been hunted down and brutally eradicated (eliminated).  It mattered not whether they had been innocent lives, all ages of civilians.  Their fate had all been the same.  This extending to the (agrarian populations) countryside, the manifold atrocities that had been committed back then, to date hunted Hugen’s peace; countless ranchers (farmers, planters) had all been mercilessly cut down, their mutilated and mangled corpses piled high in heaps were then burned to ash. 

“In summation, Zakhertan Yozdek’s fierce persecution had extended way beyond those who had actively opposed him in both campaigns.  There had been so much blood spilled that for months after Korion's capitulation the rivers had ran red.  When pestilence struck during those warm months, it necessitated the burning of all the exposed corpses.  So many bonfires dotted the land, that the acerbic air stifled (burned) the lungs, while anguished wailing (cries) of mourners revibrated the land.”

04- HUGEN (54)jp

These were the haunting sounds and images which, permanently etched into his mind, had robbed Hugen of least peaceful, any tranquil existence.  Whether he was asleep or awake, the ongoing nightmares provided him no respite.  To present, Hugen's love for his country, his Sovereign and his craving for vengeance were all, what sustained him and gave some meaning to his wretched life. But alas, perpetually no absolution (pardon, release) was to be had, with his precarious, oftentimes violent existence.

"And it is for certain that one thing Zakhertan Yozdek had not counted on, was his own underestimation of the resilience of Korion’s ordinary folk." Uyuk , interceding, spoke up loudly, partly to test Hugen's state of (alertness) consciousness.

The slight frown on the other's features confirmed it, he was (alert and) awake. Uyuk was, of course speaking from personal experience.  Surviving the ignominious death of his mother and sister, he was on the brink of expiring himself when he had been given sanctuary and a second chance, by a tribe of nomadic herdsmen in Korion.  His foster father was one Muxor Kenny, a strong, stout warrior who never donned a smile.  Always rigid and stern, he had nevertheless taught Uyuk the survival skills that had served him well up to the present day. 

“Oh yes,” Uyuk inwardly scoffed (rebuked, chided), as he sized up Hugen quaffing some more spirits: “I am well aware of your low opinion of me and my skills. I may just one day shock the britches right off you, arrogant, smug bastard!”

 If the truth were to be known, Uyuk had it in his power to alter that opinion and countless times had been sorely tempted by Hugen's goading to show off and expose his deeply hidden talents. Indeed, Uyuk knew far more than he let on.  Despite his youth he had experienced numerous hair-raising, daring escapades that, if recounted, would boggle Hugen's mind, and earn him the respect and recognition he felt was his due.  Fortunately, his good sense had prevented him from doing that very thing.

Hugen, as if he had surmised other’s thoughts, suddenly looked up and meeting Uyuk's eyes directly, smirked; then in a conciliatory gesture, offered him the jug which the younger man this time obligingly took and raised it to his lips.

Even though Uyuk was parched, he took care to drink only a moderate portion however, just enough to wet his mouth, for it would not do if he were to become totally inebriated, despite the reliable company and relatively safe circumstances.  Feeling suddenly famished, he reached over and drew his bundle to him.  Groping about inside the sack, he found what he was looking for: the remainder of the dry rations.  He handed some to Hugen and, without ceremony the two began to tear and chew, the hard bits of venison to gratify their hunger.  Afterwards Uyuk stretched out his limbs and urged Hugen to continue with his recounting of his history.

Now more favorably disposed, Hugen picked up from where he had left off: "Time after time having encountered the gritty, dogged (resolute) resistance from every citizen of Korion high and low (ordinary folk), it soon became apparent to Zakhertan Yozdek that, Korion could not be governed by anyone other than our own.  The pacification of the rebellious tribes in the remote mountains proved particularly arduous and sanguinary.  The many costly expeditions aimed at annihilating these guerrilla fighters only resulted in a string of ignominious defeats at the hands of these nomadic herders. Many skirmishes, including those led by your foster-father Muxor Kenny, which incidentally, you’d failed to mention in your recruitment (enrolment) application.”

Hugen at this point, had abruptly fell silent, and then simply tossed Uyuk a knowing, fleeting smirk. 

05- MUXOR KENNY - KORION'S NOMADIC HORSEMAN

“To put it succinctly, these frays in time gave rise to other sporadic pockets of rebellion and soon after, there arose widespread, well organized, resistance of all sorts erupting simultaneously in all parts of the country.”

“Yes… we had demonstrated to them, once and for all, how this nation even though subjugated, could not be enslaved and all the oppressive measures, stringent laws and brutal, savage punishments would never, ever, crush our spirit or resolve!" Uyuk, getting a grip and pretending to be caught up in the moment’s hype (excitement), hissed.

Hugen gave (threw) him a pointed look, "As you seem to know the rest, I may as well save my breath." But Uyuk hastily leaned across to touch his shoulder and in an earnest voice protested his ignorance.  He confessed that, in his early pubescent (teenage) years, wanting to prove his worth to his foster-father Muxor Kenny, he had partaken in some acts of sabotage (resistance) but that he had never truly grasped the complete political picture; for his  subsequent adolescent (later teen) years were spent, totally cut off from any civilization, in the sacred Shouyou Mountains.  Appearing unusually co-operative, Uyuk without prodding volunteered that, this period had been lost to him, because he had been paying a penance for his serious breach of a key tribal law.

"What law?"

Uyuk's response was curt and cryptic.

“Have it your way.” Hugen inclined his head and inwardly scoffed: “I’ve offered you a chance to be straight with me, and yet again you’ve failed.  It’s your loss.” Of course, he knew all there was to it, he’d been well informed about Uyuk's unforgivable offense (felony, crime) and the consequential chastisement and more, much, much more.  He covertly kept Uyuk in his side-view as he grimaced coldly.

“Yes, that detailed report had encompassed data that, I suspect, even you are unaware of, my foreign friend.  I've trained my informants well, so well that they can even make the dead speak.  You would be surprised, no, shaken to your core if you knew what I know, that the one who had betrayed you, the key conspirator, was none other than you’re...”  Hugen averted his eyes. “No; why should I rattle your feathers?  Why destroy the only semblance of?”  Hugen turned (reverted) his stone-cold gaze back to Uyuk to look him straight in the eye.  But then suddenly an unexpected strong compassion seized his heart and his piercing pupils momentarily softened and he nodded.

When Uyuk once more entreated (beseeched) Hugen to enlighten him on the political aspects of Korion's and Wenjenkun's shared histories, Hugen quietly acquiesced, if only to pass the time.  Yet he did not begin right away, instead, he lent an ear for a spell longer to the pelting rain, which seemed to be tapering off. 

 

(END OF SECTION 16) 

WHEREFORE SACRED CHIMES HAD RANG (CHRISTMAS STORY BY BOST, 2025)

 

All acts of kindness however minuscule do not escape the notice of Heaven, even though they may go unnoticed here on Earth.

Once upon a time in a far-off land there was a magnificent spiritual temple set on a hilltop. Though the mortal beings that inhabited this region (all the myriad beings) worshipped many different gods, they still respected each others religion and at times even actively participated in the other’s celebrations. Christmas time being one such.  

01- WHITE CHURCH -JP

This spiritual temple in particular, its congregation called it the White Church, for the outside stone was exactly that, was magnificent. The tall stained-glass windows, placed specifically to catch best angles of the sun’s rays, depicted angels and brilliantly executed religious scenes praising God Almighty’s power and extolling the virtues of the Christian saints. Pious carpenters had painstakingly carved magnificent wooden reliefs above and to the sides of the main entrance. The Church’s most prominent feature however was the white stone tower with ivy growing over it as far up as the eye can see. In the steeple an array of Christmas chimes was housed.

Every Christmas Eve many inhabitants of the city, re-enacting an old tradition, flocked to this church bringing with them many offerings to their savior, the Christ Child. Legends told of a time when, after the greatest and best offering was laid on the altar, there arose above the voices of the choir a beautiful sound, emanating from the top of the tower the most divine music of the Christmas Chimes.

Some claimed it had to be the wind that rang them, while other more pious ones believed in their heart of hearts, and exclaimed loudly so, that it had to be the angels that set the bells swinging to produce that heavenly sound.

Then came a time when, however great the offerings were, the chimes never again created blissful melody. As a result, the pious group belonging to this church were saddened, feeling there must be something amiss. Yet many Christmases came and went, and no chimes (no heavenly music) were ever heard.

02- WARRIOR ERLAND

It so happened that there was a disillusioned, recluse warrior called Erland, his name meaning, aptly, an outsider or foreigner. He was of about thirty-five years old, height over six feet tall, burly physique (muscular, strong, robust body) with long blond hair that cascaded down his shoulders.  Erland had never been married, he lived a solitary life, by choice, with his dog Longze as his sole companion, in a ramshackle hut at the edge of a dense forest, not far from the notable church.

This once a mighty warrior had a deep scar, from his eyebrow to chin, on his left cheek, which in part spoiled his very handsome features (face). He had many more scars under his tunic and on the rest of his body that told of many fought battles won or lost.  At the end of one such fierce battle, when the crimson ground was strewn (spotted) with dead and dying warriors, Erland searching for his fallen friend, had instead found Longze, a tiny little whelp no more than three months old, curled up beside a bloody corpse of a warrior; the puppy was cold and frightened, but refused to leave his master. Such resolute loyalty had tugged at Erland’s heartstrings, and he’d reached to pick him up. The puppy, despite its size was fierce and fought him, even bit his hand, which had made Erland love him all the more.  In time Longze, the name that had come to him in a premonitory dream shortly thereafter, and upon waking he’d called him by that name and the little puppy had responded to his call. Gradually Longze had accepted him as his new master and the two had since then had become basically (essentially,) inseparable.

03  PUPPY LONGZE 2

Erland, sometimes visited the local tavern to have a pint or two, always seated in a dark corner, rarely accepting company, with Longze always by his side.  Once or twice, Erland had acquiesced however, needing contact with another human soul and it had happened to be at around winter solstice and Christmas. On that particular night, feeling unusually sentimental, and thinking he had the other’s ear (that he was being heard), Erland, had reminisced (recalled) a time when his mother had spoken to him of hearing the chimes when she was but a little girl. In her waning years, always a devout Christian, she had mourned the fact that lately people had become more selfish and grown less generous in their hearts with their donations for the needy. That the last five years love and compassion for a fellow being had gradually diminished, in some cases had been entirely nonexistent; pomp and ceremony, hand in hand with greed and ambition taking root instead. As a result, when an offering was made without the purest heart and intentions and it had become only a show, it did not move the angels and justly did not merit the music of the chimes.

Erland stopping at this point, had quaffed (guzzled) a swig (mouthful) of the barely tolerable brew, for he’d imbibed better spirits in his heyday, then nodded morosely and then asked, not really expecting an answer, “As testament of these demoralizing times, when was the last time anyone had heard of the chimes?”

Even though wars had ended and on the surface, subsequent six or seven years, all seemed peaceful, there was a hidden coercion (undercurrent censorship) in that realm; and certainly, no one wanted to hear the truth; and so, the person seated across from Erland had typically fidgeted, blinking first with fright , then furtively casting  his stone gaze about him, to ascertain that no one had heard Erland’s rebellious tirade (rant). But Erland had kept his voice low, he was simply letting off steam, not a shout certainly that could be overheard amidst this drunken cacophony (discord, noise) of patrons (regulars) of the tavern. His burly companion, seeing he was safe, exhaled in relief as he, same time lowered his head and said nothing.

“Why did he bother?” Erland inwardly scoffed; angry that he was a wolf still living among sheep.

Swallowing his irritation however, Erland simply (bolted) rose to his feet, and with trusted companion dog Longze, wagging his tale, happy to be at last leaving this loud, stinky environment, trailing him, left the tavern.  

Subsequent winter had been particularly harsh for those living on the fringe (peripheral, the outlying areas). Snow and ice had permanently for months, covered the entire region. When the warrior Erland, having stayed out in the woods longer than he should, hunting for game, and later still chopped some wood, hence, was beset with fever, burning up in his bed, his exasperated dog Longze had finally on the third day left his side to go fetch him some help. But owing to the frantic, festive time, help was not that easy to get. Still, Erland’s faithful companion Longze, had unrelentingly tried and tried, seeking help, trying to fetch anyone, without avail, for his master.

                                                                                              ~

04- TAZA AND KALEN'S PARENTS- RICK AND ELSA

In a remote country village, several miles from the capital city Mortak, meanwhile, there lived a boy named Taza and his little brother Kalen. Their parents had once belonged to an indigenous group that had been systematically hunted to near extinction, because they had refused to forsake their heritage and conform to the rigid rules of this present regime.  Taza and Kalen’s highly educated parents who had chosen to live on the fringe, had always fostered tolerance of all spiritual beliefs and traditions; however, they had same time maintained their heritage (birthright) ideologies and different sort of religious beliefs... One embracing warship of Sun, Moon, Sky and the nature spirits.

Meanwhile, as the information about varied different religions were readily available at libraries and schools, Taza and Kalen had been drawn, especially at Christmas, to the religious practices of Christianity.  There were many beautiful aspects in that religious teachings (doctrines), and profuse (abundant) lessons and stories that had captivated their young imagination; hence, at Christmas time, they were as excited in their hearts and were eager to participate in copious (plentiful) religion’s traditions and festivities.

05- TAZA (22) JP

This winter marked the time, which their parents had been dead for over three years; fever had claimed them both, and Taza now at sixteen years old, as the sole provider, had done his best to in all that time, provide for his little brother Kalen. This was no small feat, for Kalen with his boundless exuberance, was a handful.

As education was widely available and was free (state funded) to all citizens, Taza and Kalen had continued with their schooling, and with their eager mind and insatiable appetites for acquiring new knowledge having never waned (diminished), each day they had borne (endured, weathered) the difficult terrain (topography) and at times harsh conditions of climate (weather, temperatures), and walked quite ways to attend school. It was during an ordinary school day that Kalen had overheard a group of kids that were eagerly discussing all the elaborate preparations their families (more than that, the whole congregation) had accomplished (fulfilled) for the upcoming Christmas celebrations.

Intrigued by all that he’d heard, Kalen, who was six years in age, later that day, had pleaded and pleaded with his elder brother Taza to take him to that particular spiritual white temple, the White Church. His curious nature demanded that he experienced it firsthand, for only then he would understand what all the fuss was about.  It was a perfect time to do this, as the school would be closed for ten days to also accommodate the winter solstice revelling, and other such, with groups rejoicing, with their own brand of festivities all over the region. Kalen had looked up at his brother with those wanting, puppy eyes, that always tugged at Taza’s heart’s strings. How could Taze say no?

06- KALEN (14) JP

This was also a particularly somber time for Taza and Kalen, as they watched joyful family interactions (exchanges), knowing they were all alone in the world; nevertheless, they did their best to celebrate, finding solace in the fact that they still had each other. They also carried the unwavering hope that Heaven would provide them with whatever they needed.

After a long consideration, Taza had answered yes, to Kalen, and watched him do a joyful dance, as he with his open palms reaching up to the sky, twirled about, elated, anticipating the thrilling adventure they were about to embark on.  

Always the responsible youth, Taza woke up at first daylight the following morning and bundled some dry rations, mainly two hard boiled eggs, half a loaf of bread, a clump of hard cheese, strips of dried meat and some seasonal berries, in a cloth and tied its ends. Leaving it on the side table, Taza then gently woke Kalen from his deep slumber; they had a quick breakfast, then Taza picking up the already prepared bundle, slung it over his shoulder and both exited their humble abode.

The days preceding (prior to) Christmas were always bitterly cold with frigid temperatures plunging below zero and made worse by thrashing winds that whipped and punished any wayward souls who dared venture outside.  Knowing this, they had set forth on their adventure with skins of water that hung at their waists and, both already dressed in several layers to escape the bitter, bone chilling hoarfrost (rime frost and ice).
For untold hours the boys trudged to cover the great distance to the place where the White Temple stood. Huddled together, they walked hand in hand bending their backs to brace themselves against the strong winds. The icy drizzle still however, mercilessly chilled them to the very marrow of their bones. By dusk they were tired, famished and exhausted, almost unable to take another step, yet the lights of the big structure now visible, perched on a hilltop, just ahead, egged them to soldier on.

At dusk, panting, they at long last approached the gates of the Temple ground; their eyes assessed the long gravely, icy path, configuring the steps they would still have to take before reaching the Temple’s doors.  From the look of things, the afternoon prayers had already been concluded; however, there was the evening prayers and activities yet to transpire, so the gates had remained wide open for the anticipated congregation (worshipers, flock, churchgoers, parishioners).

Taza and Kelon, though extremely tired, without stopping passed through the iron gates and began walking the long path; just then however, Taza spotted off to the side something dark on the snow and he veered off to take a closer look. It was a poor dog who had obviously suffered a mishap, some trauma and fallen into the shallow ditch. Stranded, he lay there practically half-dead, too sick and shivering with cold, to rise up and seek help. Rushing over, Taza knelt beside the poor thing, and carefully examined his injuries, paying particular attention to the incapacitated leg. Thankfully the bone was not broken but there was a deep slash (tear, cut) into the muscle, though not too serious and the wound was fresh. It had happened recently, for the blood was congealed, frozen but not black, the laceration not angry, therefore, no infection had set in.  Taza heaved a deep sigh of relief and before starting anything, checked the dog’s name tag, to find out his name. Longze was his name. Just then Longze had opened his eyelids and looked at Taza, his eyes searching, wanting something; next he then with some difficulty lifted his head, whimpering, nudging his nose on Taza’s hand and same time, strove to get up.

07- LONGZE INJURED AND IN DITCH

“Take it easy boy; I mean you no harm. Be still Longze… stay put, I’ll do my best to help you.” Taza talked to the dog soothingly as he, same time stroked the side of Longze’s keck.  He was good with animals that way. The poor thing was shivering, he was certainly freezing; without another thought, Taza took off his outer layer and wrapped it around the dog, to allow him some warmth. Understanding that he was also dehydrated, Taza fetched his waterskin; intelligent animal that Lonze was, he opened his mouth and allowed Taza to trickle some water down his throat.  

Taza next began tending the injured leg carefully as if he had all the time in the world. Fortunately, Taza had also packed some salve (lotion, ointment, balm), a healing liniment, which he carried in his pocket for just in case they got scraped or injured.

First, by rubbing some snow on the area, Taza carefully cleaned the laceration (slash) on the leg, then applied the salve on it. Next, he cut long strips off his tunic and used it to bandage the wound.

While he’d done all that, Kelan had stood by patiently, watching him intently, though he registered deep concern and impatience in his eyes, for they were in a snowy field, some ways off the path.  Kalen feared that when darkness descended on them, no one would know they are there. The sky laden with clouds and this, coupled with the diminishing light of the setting sun, would soon shroud (blanket) them in pitch darkness and invisible.

Just then, as if reading his mind, Taza suddenly looked up and addressed his little brother, “It’s no use, Kalen; I can’t leave Longze in this condition. You go on ahead to the church, without me.”

“Alone?” cried Kalen in a fearful voice. “No, I can’t. I can’t let you ... miss the Christmas Festival.”

“You are brave, just go on by yourself. I’ll be fine and, I’ll be right here when you come back. I must tend to his other needs; there is still more to be done.  I know he’s starving.”

Taza then questioned the canine: “How long has it been boy, since you’ve eaten?”  He asked the poor thing, not expecting any answer. He looked at those soulful eyes of Longze, who lacked (human speech) vernacular ability to communicate something that was obviously vital(critical)… That of which wasn’t about him…. It was something imperative, something else.

“How horrible it must be, to be without the faculty of human speech?”  Taza pensively nodded his head and then turned to look at Kalen, who remained reluctant to leave, and pleaded.
“Go on Kalen; please don’t make things any harder, I can’t leave him in this state!”

Kalen knitted his brows and pouted; then, with certain resignation, turned to go.

“Oh, wait…”  Taza suddenly urgently cried out, remembering something.  He then quickly reached deep into to his inner pocket and withdrew a treasured object for his little brother to take.

“I’d done some preliminary reading on this religion; offerings could also be made at this particular time for the souls of the departed; it will bring them apt solace in afterlife. If you get a chance, little brother, to slip up to the altar without getting in anyone's way, please take this little wooden angel (which I’ve carved) and (the copper  coin) the two pence, and place them all down, as our offering, before the icon (image) of their deity, for our parents’ sake, when no one is looking. That way it will be the same as me going there. "

08 -KALEN HOLDING ANGEL AND TWO COINS (15) JP 2

Kalen had simply nodded and then with a heavy heart left Taza; someways down, he looked back over his shoulder and saw that his brother Taza was now feeding the strips of dried meat they had taken along, to the one that needed it the most. Kalen smiled in approval, thinking how fortunate he was to have such a kind, loving brother, which made him feel that instant, warm and safe all over.

“You can do this; you are no coward!” Thereafter, sticking his chin out, he hastened his steps, to reach the procession of the people, that had alighted (descended) from their posh (grand) carriages and were presently ascending (climbing), the stairs of the Temple.

The decked-out interior of the great church was truly a magnificent place that night. The decorations, lights and glitter, all the displays, riches he’d never seen the like of before simply took his little breath away. A small urchin like himself was virtually invisible amidst the procession as they took their gifts for the Christ Child to the altar.
Some worshipers laid down wonderful jewels; some gave baskets with massive amounts of gold so heavy they could scarcely carry them down the aisle. A famed author laid down his prized work, a book he had, after many years, just completed.

09- FAMOUS AUTHOR OFFERS A BOOK

Then the King and Queen appeared in all their majesty, hoping, like the least petitioner, to win for themselves the music of the Christmas chimes. A great murmur rippled through the church as the people witnessed the King, additionally, taking his priceless golden crown, set with diamonds and rare precious gems, from his head and laying it to gleam on the alter as his offering to the Christ Child.

“Surely, “They intoned in unison, “Surely we shall hear the bells now.” But the chimes did not ring. Not even a whimper was heard.

When the gifts were all on the altar, prayers uttered, long sermon ended and finally, the choir began the closing hymn…. And still no chimes manifesting…. By degrees, the disappointed crowd, murmuring under their breath, slowly but surely, began to disperse.

Suddenly however, the organist had abruptly ceased (stopped) his playing; and everyone shocked (holding their breath), looked aghast at the old Priest, who was holding up his hand for silence.

“What’s this?” A hushed murmur rippled through the air.

For unmistakably, when the people strained their ears and listened hard, there came at first a manifest unearthly sound of akin harp; but then, resonating through the air, softly but distinctly, ensued (materialized) the heavenly music of the chimes in the tower!

The divine music seemed so far away and yet so clear. The notes were so much sweeter than any sound they had ever heard. Melody rising and falling in the sky was so entrancing that the people in the church held their breath and stood perfectly still.

Then they all stood up together and stared at the altar, wanting to see what great gift had awakened these long-silent chimes. But all the nearest of them saw was the figure of Kalen, who had crept softly down the aisle, perfectly unseen and placed Taza’s little wooden angel and the two pieces of copper on the altar. He’d then quickly left, never realizing the miracle he’d gifted to the people.

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

 

The story could well end here, but not just yet.

 

The two brothers, Taza and Kalen, had followed the guidance of the Longze, part carrying him, part following him, that night, to finally, after a long trek, they had reached the wooden cabin at the edge of the forest.

Inside, they discovered, the ailing Erland, still in the grip of fever but stubbornly hanging onto life.

 Longze, with renewed strength had rushed to the side of his master, nuzzling Erland’s head and whimpering to him that help was there, to hang on. The warrior Erland seemed to understand his dog’s urgent pleas and forced open his eyes to take a good long look at Taza. He nodded his head and closed his eyes, though temporarily.

Taza, despite his young age, knew exactly what to do, for after his parent’s demise, he had diligently studied and acquired the amassed knowledge of how to cure this terrible fever which had taken so many lives.

He had been motivated since that time, with strong determination not to have this sickness rob anyone else of a loved one, not if he could help it. He’d poured into books absorbing, learning every bit of knowledge that provided the cure and moreover, he had sought the help of homeopathic healers nearby. And learned to identify the key plants that was helpful in eliminating some of the symptoms.  These accrued (combined) information permanently committed to memory; he set to work at once to help cure this ailing solitary warrior Erland.

As Taza tended to the sick warrior Erland, little brave Kalen and Longze proved two useful assistants in foraging (finding) the necessary herbs, which was essentially easy feat, once one knew where to find it

Local physicians could not have achieved what Taza did after a week; for he had put his heart and his very soul into curing Erland.  Taza during that week, many a night loosing sleep, had worked (diligently) tireless, long laborious hours, to diminish Erland’s fever and afford him comfort. Then as his condition began to improve, Taza nursed him back to health by providing him apt nourishment and allowing warrior’s own natural immune system to also assist in speeding up his convalescence. 

And yes, Erland finally recovered; he was so filled with gratitude and loved these two boys, understanding how very heroic, self-sacrificing, stoic, precious things they were, that he later, formally (legally) adapted them as his children. And so, a loving family (of four) was formed, including Longze of course.  Longza lived to a ripe old age (dog’s years), contended and never lacking for anything.

Erland was also, for the first time ever, was at peace with his past; he spent the rest of his life protecting, nurturing Taza and Kalen and bringing them up proper and later still, passing on his warrior skills onto them.

 

The End 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 11

But wait," Zhadol held up his hand, "let me give you another good example of Dwengzur’s powers.

“Yes, that night Dwengzur provided us with yet another demonstration, chiefly for Egil Viggoaries’s amusement.  A reluctant volunteer was chosen to sit before him, then Dwengzur, with a great, mysterious air, muttering incantations, place both thumbs on Lenny’s"

"Not the Under-Secretary Lenny Sukzor?" Yennic broke in, grabbing Zhadol's arm in excitement.  "Not that old sourpuss?"

Commander Zhadol jerked his arm free.  "Everyone over twenty-five is old to you." he scoffed disdainfully.  He was stalling, searching in silence with knitted brows for a way of retracting this damaging slip.

Yennic was not about to let it pass that easily and fixed his intense green eyes on Zhadol.  "Now don't change the subject.  It is him you're referring to, isn't it?"

01- COMMANDER ZHADOL AND YENNIC

Zhadol hemmed and hawed as his face twitched nervously but he soon saw the pointlessness of any denial.  Biting his lip, he cast down his eyes and gave the barest nod of affirmation.

"But this is astounding!" Yennic gloated maliciously, easing himself back.

 "What do you know?  To think that all this time, I, and everyone else were so completely duped.  To think that he’s…."

"Now, Yennic, I needn't warn you of the consequences." Zhadol ejected sternly, authoritatively glaring at Yennic.

For a fleeting moment there was such hardness, such blood-curdling coldness in Zhadol's pupils that Yennic, caught by surprise, a small shudder passed through him.  He dared not taunt the Commander any further and at once wiped off the leering smile from his face.

 "No, of course not," Yennic responded hastily then in all seriousness.  "I swear on the graves of my forefathers, I'll never breathe a word of this to anyone.  But please do go on.  Tell me about the demonstration."  He urged Zhadol on, trying his best to play down the incident but the Commander's silence was unnerving.

"Unless, of course, you'd rather talk of something else..."  His eyes looked past Zhadol with an effort and focused on the distant dark sky.

 "How brilliant the moon is tonight in the company of all those twinkling stars," he added thoughtfully, with a meaning, of course, entirely different.

His clumsy attempt to draw out his jealousy amused Zhadol. “How predictable you are…  How absurd.” In silence Zhadol stared at Yennic, who appeared to be lost in thought.  Still, his body, tensing like a bowstring, betrayed him.

 As Zhadol studied the Lieutenant a cynical smile brushed his lips then, nodding, he volunteered the information Yennic was thirsting to hear.

"Yes, Dwengzur placed his thumbs on Lenny’s forehead like so," he said, demonstrating the placement on Yennic.  "Then he uttered more incongruous, incomprehensible incantations.  Within seconds, Lenny’s eyes glazed over, and his head dropped.  Most interestingly, however, Dwengzur's hair had just then turned completely white then it reverted to its original fiery red color, and he straightened up to reveal his findings.  Dwengzur not only told of what motives lay in Lenny’s heart, but also of the desires and inhibitions that lurked in the dark recess of his unconscious mind.  Armed with this knowledge, Egil Viggoaries then ordered Dwengzur to bring Lenny around.  All the sorcerers had to do was simply mutter some words, blow once on Lenny 's face and Lenny revived instantly with no recollection whatever of what had happened.  He even asked Dwengzur, with some apprehension, when the demonstration would begin."

02- LENNY SUKZOR (1)JP

"That must have been a riot!" Yennic laughed venomously.  "I don't suppose you'll impart some of that dirt (on Lenny) to me?”  Yennic fished for details.  "No?  I thought as much."  Disappointed, he pursed his lips.

Zhadol suppressed his annoyance and continued, "When Egil Viggoaries confronted Lenny with the knowledge Dwengzur had gained, all of it proved quite accurate.  Extremely embarrassed, poor Lenny didn't know which way to turn.  He probably wished there was a rock somewhere that he could crawl under and die.  Egil Viggoaries, with his insatiable appetite for cruelty, played it to the limit, making Lenny squirm time and time again.  I don't have to tell you how he brutally toyed with Lenny and how he shamelessly enjoyed himself at the Under-Secretary's expense."

"I would have given anything to be there to see that upstart squirm like a stuck pig." Yennic voiced without reservation, his cold, unsympathetic reaction.  He had made no secret of his intense dislike of Lenny Sukzor ever since the Under-Secretary had publicly spurned and humiliated him.

Zhadol, on the other hand, had had no serious clashes with Lenny and, therefore, neither liked nor disliked the man.  However, he respected the Under-Secretary's strong character, his sense of justice and his frank, no-nonsense manner.

Yennic noting the strong disapproval in Zhadol's face, the threat implicit in his silence, quickly checked his tone and mumbled, "I don't suppose that Dwengzur got too many volunteers after that."

"No, he did not." Zhadol replied mechanically.  Something else was preying on his thoughts.

"Still, such tricks are very useful."  Yennic grimaced coldly as he stole a malevolent look at Zhadol.  "One could reap untold benefits and gain a serious advantage over one’s foes.  His Royal Highness was, no doubt, profoundly interested in this?"

"Precisely," Zhadol nodded distractedly, turned to look directly at Yennic and stiffened his posture.  "More importantly, Dwengzur can study the juxtaposition of the planets and constellations and predict future events.  Unfortunately, however, his predictions augured (portended) more trouble."  He shook his head, "We'll have to indefinitely postpone our trip to Yaguzer."

"But the arrangements have already been made!" Yennic's initial reaction was to protest vehemently.  "What kind of trouble?" he looked up to ask.  "Why can't we…"

"This is quite serious."  Zhadol gestured to freeze Yennic's query and explained, "Three days prior to our leaving Channing I’d acquired a disturbing piece of news from Egil Viggoaries."

"And you waited until now to tell me about it?" Yennic interrupted indignantly.

"I held off because", Zhadol looked away.

"Because you didn't trust me, is that it?" Yennic, fuming, finished the sentence.

"No, not at all," Zhadol countered morosely (petulantly).

03- COMANDER ZHADOL

 "I had to use extreme discretion, and this was the first available moment we have had that I could safely broach this subject with you.  You see, Dwengzur has read something vitally important in the stars and, through Egil Viggoaries’s influence, gained a rare, private audience with His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek.  At this point, I'm told, Dwengzur gained Sovereign Zakhertan’s confidence and informed him that there would be, yet another assassination attempt quite soon.  When pressed, he even predicted the exact timing of it."

"Are you certain of this? When is it?" Yennic gasped, stiffening despite himself.

"Quite certain,” Zhadol shrugged his shoulders, "As for when it’s supposed to transpire, that, I'm afraid, is privileged information.  No other, outside of His Royal Highness, his bodyguards, Dwengzur and Egil Viggoaries, have been informed, not even P.M.  Lamont Gudaren."

"So, His Royal Highness took the threat seriously, then.  I thought that he was inclined not to believe in soothsayers, that he barely tolerated them."  Yennic's provocative question risked angering Zhadol once more, but this was far too important info (data, material) for him to cower now.

“Have the Kozurs advanced the date?  Why haven't they informed me? Or had Zaur Stugr and the others been implicated by that cursed Dwengzur? Zhadol surely knows more than he’s willing to admit. But he’s really spooked. It’s so unlike him to be so tightlipped; but considering what’s at stake, I’ll just have to try harder that’s all.”   Yennic masked his concern with the air of disdain and skepticism, hoping to goad the commander to be more open with him.

"Dwengzur is different, perhaps the wisest one of all but, obviously, I've failed to convince you of that."  Zhadol's answer was mocking.  He was indeed angered by the other's seeming obstinacy, but then he softened, adding, "Besides, as I understand it, Dwengzur even staked his own life on the accuracy of the time he'd predicted for the assassination attempt."

"Please don't be cross with me.", Yennic used his boyish charm to disarm and appease Zhadol.  Pursing his lips together, he queried, "But if, as you say, Dwengzur cannot be killed, wouldn't his gamble be an empty show, a farce?"

"It seems that I've unintentionally misled you." Zhadol countered, smiling.  "Of course, he can be killed, but not by any conventional means.  Naturally his people keep this secret under close guard."

"Yet His Royal Highness obviously bears this knowledge?" Yennic interposed skeptically, narrowing his eyes.

"Don't forget, Yennic, His Highness was once a Field Marshall commanding our invincible armies in his glorious campaigns against Korion.  His forces penetrated the farthest corners of that state, like the wind itself."

“I know… I know rhetoric well.  Get on with it, man.”  Seemingly in agreement, Yennic impatiently nodded his head.

"During that great episode in our history," Zhadol continued in a more level tone, "His Highness must have had a brush with Dwengzur's kind, some outcast, perhaps, that had been hunted down."

Noting the puzzlement on Yennic's face Zhadol explained, "Apparently I've omitted telling you something else.  You see, when one of them breaks their stringent tribal laws, he or she is automatically cut down, condemned to be a non-entity without even the benefit of trial.  However, before the sentence of death is carried out the elders apparently grant the offender a head-start at fleeing to safety.  This, of course, is the illusion of mercy for, in all cases, the convicted one is always, quite without forgiveness, hunted down and disposed of without a trace.  It is another one of their unwritten laws, a fact of their life that no one gets to leave the tribe, willingly or unwillingly, alive.”

04- HUNTED DOWN AND KILLED

"Now, if I'm now permitted to speculate a little, one such fugitive must have fallen into His Highness' hands before their demise.  In all-probability Zakhertan Yozdek was, quite by chance, able to witness the method of execution and put the facts together.  Still later he must have elaborated on the tale while recounting his military exploits.  You know how Egil Viggoaries recollects even the most trivial of details, never forgetting anything no matter how long ago it was said."  Zhadol's eyes suddenly opened wide, "Come to think of it, that precise knowledge must be what binds Dwengzur in servitude to Egil Viggoaries and keeps him in check.  Considering his vagueness as to how he saved the sorcerer's life hmmm, but I'm straying from the point.”

Smiling, he sat back and inhaled deeply.  "Yes, Dwengzur delivered his warning to His Highness all right, but then he provided His Grace Zakhertan with an effective solution as well."

"You mean that at each instance, the assassin or assassins will now be timely intercepted and, the danger to His Royal Highness will forever be successfully averted?  Is that doable?"

“Why not, on the proviso (condition) the proper measures are implemented in time," Zhadol nodded.

"And, as I've been told, His Highness was greatly impressed and has already decided to adopt Dwengzur's plans (policies) to that effect.  Oh, and I ought to correct you on this; there is only one assassin in the prophecy, not the multitude you'd expect."

“A solitary one,” Yennic was intrigued.  Masking it, he speculated, "I suppose it was decided that only one can get through, infiltrate the security, undetected. “

“Not a bad idea, however he has to be quite an extraordinary being, considering the odds stacked up against him."

"Yes, I quite agree.  He has to be an extraordinary assassin, to say the least, to be planning a single-handed attempt on the life of His Royal Highness and, what's more, give cause for serious concern to Dwengzur and His Excellency."

Zhadol's uncanny words startled Yennic and placed him instantly on his guard.  “

How much did Zhadol suspect?  Was he toying with him, testing him? “But, after a brief scrutiny of the Commander, Yennic concluded, “No, he suspects nothing.”  And with that, his alarm dissipated in one breath.

"Zakhertan Yozdek, of course, is interested in capturing him alive."

Imagining the hellish tortures that awaited the unnamed assassin, Yennic dropped his head then shuddered involuntarily as he commiserated, "Yes, how I pity the poor wretch that will be walking into that trap."

The remark was innocuous enough but the reckless response, the unmistakable sympathy in Yennic's voice, took Zhadol by surprise.  He turned sharply and examined the Lieutenant.  “Did I hear him right?”

Yennic winced and swallowed hard.  Disregarding the Commander's questioning gaze, he grunted, "By the gods, another assassination attempt!  Won't they ever learn?"

Then, looking straight at Zhadol, he pointedly, defiantly asked, "Do you suppose it will end with his, and the other conspirator's capture?  No, that would be too easy.  The last attempt was made only eight years ago, and it was only recently that the witch hunt ended, and the strong measures were rescinded.  Now it will start all over again and we'll be cast into turmoil once more.  I wonder how many more will be made to suffer, justly or unjustly, this time to appease His Royal Highness' wrath?"

“Oops!  He'd gone a bit too far!”

Before Yennic could retract his last words or try to cover them up, Zhadol barked, "Hold your tongue!  Your words could be misconstrued as treason.  Take care with what you say and to whom you say it."  His face twitched anxiously as he looked nervously about.

 Yennic's face mirrored Zhadol's fear.

Convinced there was no one about, Zhadol reprimanded Yennic severely, "You're fortunate that I know your heart, but your reckless diatribes (tirades rantings) will one day land you in serious trouble, beyond anyone's help.  More influential men have fallen for saying less."

Yennic appreciated Zhadol's concern and told him so then, used other honeyed words to placate him.  Even so, it was some time before Zhadol was calm enough to return the conversation to the subject of Dwengzur.

"That may be," Nevetsecnuac heard Yennic, back to his old self again, stubbornly counter, "but I still fail to see how a mere scholar could threaten His Excellency Egil Viggoaries.  How can he be the cause of his serious downfall, or as Dwengzur so bluntly predicted it, the cause of His Excellency's disgraceful, premature death?"

Nevetsecnuac pricked up his ears upon hearing the word, scholar. 

“Are they referring to me, or rather to Fradel Rurik Korvald?  Tomorrow morning, I would have discarded these clothes and donned scholar's garments and, in doing so, I would have blindly walked into their trap.”  Nevetsecnuac knew that he could have easily bested them all, but not without cost. 

Because he would be acting contrary to Fradel Rurik Korvald's character, disguise or no disguise, if there were an engagement, he would be forced to kill them all.  These men were merely following orders and his sense of justice and aversion to murder prevailed on Nevetsecnuac to be merciful.

05- NEVETSECNUAC

"Even if we ignore all his power and influence," Yennic's argument took Nevetsecnuac's attention away from his private thoughts, "His Excellency Egil Viggoaries is famed throughout the land for his martial skills, second only to His Royal Highness in invincibility in combat.  He could never be caught off guard or be bested by anyone, let alone by an insipid scholar.  Don't you think that this prediction is a bit too fantastic to be taken seriously?  A scholar indeed!  Why, a single breath could knock a scholar over!"  Yennic curtly and gratingly laughed.

"No matter what you say, I cannot accept (swallow) this.  Furthermore, it makes no sense to me at all that a man of Dwengzur's abilities should be so compliant.  If he really wanted to, I doubt anyone could stop him, threat, or no threat.  Why then should he stick around and, worse still, remain in the limelight, given the circumstances."

“Why indeed.” Nevetsecnuac concurred.

"Unless, of course, he harbors a more sinister purpose; meanwhile, feigning being helpless, to gain some lethal advantage." Yennic snorted.

"Your point is well taken, Yennic." Zhadol concurred, stroking his beard.

"I confess that I, too, have experienced similar qualms.  Still, Egil Viggoaries is no fool.  You know how shrewd he is."

"That aside," Yennic impatiently drummed his fingers on his knee, "if Dwengzur is as good as his claim, how did he err in the prediction of the scholar's exact time of arrival here at Cyprecox Pass?  Wasn't tonight supposed to be the time?  Though we've remained vigilant in our watch, there's been no sign of him so far, nor do I expect there will be.  If he fails to show by dawn tomorrow, we should take our leave of this god-forsaken pass and return to the Capital."

"That would be disobeying direct orders, and you well know the penalty for that."   Zhadol shook his head.  "I'm afraid that we'll just have to stick it out for another two days at least, if not more."

"I object to following orders blindly."  Yennic fidgeted in his seat then looked up,

“What if he never shows up?  What if we've missed him already because he's taken an alternate route?”

“Are you quite certain that pompous scholar would choose this desolate dirt road over the more pleasurable and scenic river route, more akin to a scholar's tastes?  His Excellency is only interested in results.  Won't he be furious?"

"Orders are orders.  We are to stay put here regardless of the consequences or rewards; any action or inaction may foster." Zhadol spoke sternly, frowning.

"However, to put your mind more at ease, I recommended before our departure that Lance Diostin be posted on the river route.  He was dispatched the day before we were.  You see that angle has been covered as well."

“Lance Diostin?" Yennic nodded appreciatively.  "How many were dispatched with him?"

"I recommended five.  Does that meet with your approval?" Zhadol responded mockingly with a wry smile.  "So now you can stop worrying?"

Curtailing a curt response, Yennic grimaced and dropped his eyes then, after a momentary pause, meekly ejected, "How can I?"  A definite vulnerability lay under his tone.

"I've been rather apprehensive about this assignment from the start."  He bit his lower lip.  When Zhadol remained quiet, Yennic continued, "I'm filled with trepidation over the precarious predicament we've been placed in.  We're doing his Excellency's bidding, but what if this were ever to come to light?"  He shook his head dismally.

"I mean, by upholding one order, aren't we committing a still worse offense?  Undermining Prime Minister; Egil Viggoaries’s aim is one thing, but..."

"But do you wish to live forever, Yennic?" Zhadol chuckled then, meeting the Lieutenant's grim stare and noting his serious unease, he stopped teasing.

Speaking soothingly, he encouraged Yennic, "You needn't be so concerned, Yennic.  Egil Viggoaries knows what he's doing.  His Royal Highness doesn't really care whether Fradel Rurik Korvald complies with the summons or not.  Really, it’s only a whim with him and now, with this new threat on the horizon, the matter of Fradel Rurik Korvald's memorial poem is the farthest thing from Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek's mind.  Only Lamont Gudaren is anticipating the poet's arrival and, expecting serious opposition from Egil Viggoaries, has gone to his predictable lengths to ensure the scholar's safe delivery."

"A futile attempt for, as always, His Excellency Egil Viggoaries is one step ahead of him."  Yennic nodded appreciatively.

“So that explains the presence of this contingent.” Nevetsecnuac grimaced.  “They are expecting to do battle with the Prime Minister's men.  They must be planted all along the way.”

“Fortunately, I diverted from the usual routes and so escaped both this disaster and the assistance.”  Nevetsecnuac now even suspected that the alleged bandits that had attacked Fradel when they had met were in fact Egil Viggoaries's men.

“I wonder how he's been faring.”  Sudden worry momentarily creased (clouded) Nevetsecnuac's features.

“Oh, but he's in the care of Fiery Comet; he'll be all right.” Nevetsecnuac, smiling, quickly brushed aside this concern.

 

(END OF SECTION 11)                                                                                        ~