THE LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC
THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 1
After the joyous event,
Heaven continued to smile on the inhabitants of that remote Mountain dwelling
as each continued with their daily routines in blissful co-existence. Typically, as days turned into weeks and
weeks into months, what they did not know, and could not have foreseen was
that, in another part of the country, far, far away, the green-eyed providence
had already dealt them the hazard card.
It so happened that the ever-present peril Brant Dustin and Duan, by a quirk of fate had just then attained that singular advantage when, on the heels of several bizarre coincidences, their persistent unholy quest brought them to the vicinity of Heaven's Gate Spiritual Temple.
Previously, (akin to)
resembling two mounted specks, they had spurred their horse’s day after day in
an unrelenting gallop to cover considerable ground in one of the most expansive
and hostile regions. Having long since lost his bearings, Brandt nevertheless had done his utmost to keep up
with Duan’s unbelievable stamina and furious speed. In all that time, the latter, a poor company
grunted few begrudging words, and this only at nightfall while they partook
(ingested) dried sustenance in advance of the negligible, brief respite by the
makeshift campfire. Even this slight measure, Brandt suspected, Duan had only acceded to solely
out of consideration for their mounts.
Solitude or grueling schedule was not the
worst of it, Duan’s indifference, his oftentimes manifest condescending side
glances or that intolerable, periodic wry grimaces, compounded Brandt’s ire
making him yearn for a diversion: even an onslaught from the fiercest bandits
was preferable to this! Brandt who’d spent most of his life in the hub of a
densely populated Capital city, in effort to escape this abhorrent monotony,
recently had allowed himself certain secret indulgences of ruminations
concerning those barely passable human
habitations and the odd myriad characters and the ensued events that had by
degrees, with each leg of the journey gained more significance. He was amid one such, when just then
detecting the slight wisp of dust beyond the next hump (hill) of this
irregular, sporadically forested landscape, Brandt sat up straight and elatedly turned his head
askew to speak, but meeting Duan’s mocking, sardonic smile, he quickly checked
his tongue.
Duan simply nodded then spurred his mount in
that very direction. Before long they had come upon a very welcome sight, a
cluster of devout pilgrims with their necessary entourage, as it was the usual
time for the pilgrimage, trudging along and at times managing with some
competence, the narrow gravel corridor that cut through a difficult terrain.
Knowing at the end of their route there would be a place of worship Brandt grinned wryly, constraining his rather bursting excitement. Inwardly
however, he was delighted at this unexpected reprieve from the elements and
looked forward to ingesting hot meals and resting his weary bones in sure to be
a more suitable lodging. The last thing he expected however was the
unreasonable, staunch resistance from Duan. Eventually, when Duan’s amusement
and the hilarity of Brandt’s ingenious arguments grew tiresome for Duan, he
then feigning to have been persuaded
had tersely consented to the plan and the brief stay at the Temple.
At dusk they stealthily approached the group
that had pitched camp and, expanding only a slight effort, obtained the
necessary items (religious artifacts) and garb. Now appropriately disguised, at
first daylight they quietly adjoined the ranks of countless pious affiliates
seeking routine salvation or absolution.
Subsequent days, the
resolute snaking line descended then ascended the strenuous, oftentimes
challenging, winding path to finally arrive at a clearing before the towering
imposing arch. All pilgrims now
welcomed, right away gongs were sounded with a deafening noise, after which the thick metal gates slowly
creaked open to pave the way. The enthusiastic devotees without (apparent)
ostensible, serious scrutiny or hindrance, with that unmistakable excited aura
all streamed in through the wide-open gates to crowd into the courtyard.
In no time at all the
well-organized Hostellers succinctly saw to it that all pious visitors were
duly registered, their special needs promptly addressed, and all were
comfortably settled in their assigned quarters.
Likewise, after meeting
the necessary expenses, Duan and Brandt
were also assiduously escorted to their modestly furnished quarters. Duan’s
apparent preoccupation did little to mitigate Brandt’s disdainful air. Forgoing
idle chatter, he had disappeared the moment Brandt’s back was turned, and upon
his return, refused to give any explanation for his long absence.
That evening’s repast (at
the Refectory) was tad too plain and coarse for Brandt ’s taste, still, it
being palatable enough than most other places there’d been too, and feeling
famished, he’d had his fill and washed it all down with refreshing liquids, mistakenly
forgoing digestive tea. Thus, in the
small hours while all patrons and devotee guests were dead to the world,
Brandt moreover suffering dyspepsia,
had endlessly turned, and tossed. Sometime or rather, he must have fallen
asleep, for then he was cast into the throes of the same nightmare that
tortured his soul.
In this horrific dream, once again he saw himself in that most wretched state, suffering the eternal torments of Hell. His hair disheveled, clothes torn, bleeding from countless lacerations, he was being subjected to the worst kind of humiliation and excruciating pain inflicted by those abominable, vile creatures of the underworld. Contemptible eunuch Egil Viggoaries was there also, he was in charge, laughing up a storm as he devoured the entrails of yet another poor victim squealing in pain, while at the same time he poked and prodded the unfortunate captive.
His father in the
adjoining cell, suffering the infinite unspeakable tortures and beleaguered and
besieged much in the same vile way, between his anguished, accusatory screams
cursed Brandt incessantly for having failed
to avenge him. “Damn you, damn you coward…You are no son of mine! Oh, I should
have killed you in your crib, while you slept and be done with the shame you
have brought upon me…Shame, oh shame, shame!”
His anguished soul pushed
to the brink Brandt; yet again (same as always) willed himself awake from this
inexorable, unvarying nightmare.
He lay still; casting his blank (vacant) gaze
about for some time, inwardly striving hard to reassure his soul, his being of
his actual present status, for his ears persisted in ringing with those hurtful
curses! When after an extended period those relentlessly vivid, dreadful images
of the nightmare refused to recede, determinedly he sprang from the bed,
quickly dressed, and then exited the room for some breath of fresh air.
After a time, still reluctant to return to
sleep, he strolled aimlessly about the grounds. There were smaller temples
dotting this sector, each housing a different God to accommodate different
regions of the Country. Depending on need, devotees’ (aficionados’) visited the
specific Deity, made offerings, and burned incense to it; then in supplicate,
prayed or asked favors. Brandt
differing in his religious beliefs from this order, he cared not for the
temples, images of Gods, their idols, or the elaborate displays.
After only a cursory
glance at one such temple, Brandt
wrinkled his nose in disgust, turned, and headed out of the building. He
strolled through the embellished gardens dappled with fountains and ponds
teaming with rare fish, but once more he found nothing extraordinary to warrant
his interest, he had seen far better elsewhere, so he bypassed these also to
reach a more desolate area (corner).
Now, in addition to the usual sentries posted at the gate and the lookout towers, each night a different pair of monks were assigned to walk the grounds. Shunning all of these, Brandt took the unusual course, delving into forested segments, and by following unfrequented paths he emerged through the bushes at the (Dorter: which was the monk’s dormitory) private quarters of monks.
He was about to turn back
when his sharp ears just then picked up the hushed voices of a couple of monks
engaged in jovial conversation. His eyes searched the compound till he spotted
a barely visible, dim light emanating from the stilts of one of the windows, a
detached dwelling at the far end, nestled amidst the pines. Intrigued, he
stealthily advanced towards it. The windowpane was left a tiny bit ajar to
allow the fresh night’s air to come in. Brandt
quietly drew close and hiding in the shadows, he was poised to listen.
Whereas most slept
blissfully (in their private cells), resting from days grueling chores, this
odd pair was animatedly indulging in private conversation whilst sipping
periodically from a cup that from time to time got refilled from a jar.
Brandt’s curiosity peaked,
same time he was amused as he became more certain that this was no ordinary tea
or other such sanctioned refreshments in which they were partaking.
"Brother Muro, I feel
I must make a mention of this." One of them suddenly exclaimed in a
pressing tone.
"What?"
"I am of the opinion
that those two are not of our following."
Brandt smiled wryly, grasping at once the subject
of their conversation being himself and Duan.
"You’ve sounded
(echoed) my own suspicions, Brother Fayet,” the other interposed.
"Perhaps that is why
the High Priest granted them no audience and why they were allowed only a
paltry couple of night’s stay."
"I was under the
impression that couple of nights, was all they had asked for." Fayet
countered.
“You should know,” Muro
checking his annoyance, grunted.
"It’s not as if they
can’t afford a lengthier stay; their money purse is weighty enough. Pity they
will miss all the major events. Come to think of it, neither showed the least
bit of interest in the religious itinerary, citing pressing engagements
elsewhere! What did they hope to accomplish in this short span, I mean, why
bother to come at all, why not postpone it till another more opportune time?”
"I am in total
agreement with you, brother Fayet; yet no orders are given to keep them under
close scrutiny or any sort of surveillance. As far as I know, no one is
assigned to their case.” Muro fell silent and waited for confirmation that was
not long in coming.
“You are correct on that assumption.
“Fayet responded with a certain air of importance. He should know; he had three
or four sources that always kept him up to date with anything of importance.
“Tell you what though, I
think this is a grave oversight; why the dark complexioned one, the mere
mention of him makes the hair on my neck stand on end, there’s something
frightfully evil and unholy about him, and certainly I am not fooled by their
humble, reserved almost pious attitudes.”
"I concur.” Muro interjected. “They look
quite formidable and if I dare venture a hunch, on the prowl for something
deadly. And not in the least bit interested in absolving their decidedly massive,
accrued sins. And know what else?” Muro gasped, "I can't shake the feeling
that they leave death and destruction in their wake. This I feel deep in my
bones to be true. I only hope their bad intentions aren't in any way directed
at us or at the Order, especially now that we have grown so complacent within
this last decade."
"Complacent, no, it
only seems that way to you perhaps. But know what; you may have something
there, especially about that one. He strikes me as someone quite ruthless and
bloodthirsty too." Fayet thoughtfully intoned, as he stroked the top of
his head.
Astute observation,
Brandt grinned. Wonder if it is
enough to save your hides?
"As it were, I did hear something about
them asking some pretty strange questions before they retired." Fayet
excitedly, recalling it to mind just then, put in.
"Really, what kind of
questions; and whom did they ask? I was led to believe with their disdainful
air, they had hardly dispensed a word to anyone, not even to brother Cui
assigned to tend to their needs."
"You know I can’t
enumerate; I’m always lost on fine details.” Fayet was being coy, maddeningly
so. Seeing the frown on Muro’s face, he relented. “But if you must know, I just
overheard Priest Lu raising certain objections about the strangers to Priest
Nui."
"Fine one you are,
stringing me along than leaving me high and dry. Are you trying to teach an old
dog a new trick?"
"Ha and why not? But
really, Brother Muro, I am being straight. I really do not know the true extent
of their questions. If you are so
curious, why don't you ask Priest Lu next time you see him."
“You know, in all the time I've been here, I
have never encountered a stranger personages as these two save for that other
bunch, you remember, the one-armed man's group last year and all that
deferential treatment they got, even though they’d shown up at such an unusual
time.”
Their idle chatter and
useless bickering had by then begun to grate on Brandt’s nerves and he was
about to take his leave, when the sudden mention of the one-armed man rekindled
his interest.
Brandt leaned over and peered through the crack unseen, to get a clearer view of the two conversing monks.
“You do remember them,
right? “Fayet waited to receive a nod from Muro before continuing. “But at
least they were pious, and I can say it with measure of certainty, very much in
earnest with their prayers; after all, they did partake in all the religious
ceremonies so hastily organized on their behalf. Our discerning Abbot sure was interested in them and I
believe Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn truly did enjoy their company…particularly the
one-armed elder. His Eminence Boqast Tizanzenn conversed with him endlessly it
seemed, something I had not seen the Abbot do in a long, long while. Come to think of it, not ever! I mean, he is
always so reservedly serious and seeks solitude.”
To this Muro gravely
nodded in concurrence. “Hmmm, as I recollect, giving in to your suspicious
nature for a long spell you did entertain colorful, hilarious suppositions
about them also. Is it possible you could be just as wrong now? “
“I still say there was
something quite intriguing, even mysteriously fantastic about that group, more
so with that golden haired youth.” Fayet
responded indignantly, irritated and even bit hurt by the other’s persistent
doubt where this matter was concerned.
"Now, what was it
again,” Muro with his innate sadistic nature, could not resist needling him
further. “Yes, now I remember. You had based your entire hypothesis on that
list and the unfounded claim that the eldest of them had inscribed on the
prayer requisite form the deposed monarch, Zuronghan Therran Valamir’s and, what other name, oh yeah,
Zhon something. Hah, and this you had supposedly
uncovered despite it being carefully erased by the alleged culprit! Really, do you still assert the claim that
they were spies?"
"A fine confidant you
are!” Fayet, knitting his stubby brows hotly retorted. "Why don't you just
below louder and announce it to the whole world? Walls have ears you know or is
it your intention to land me in serious trouble! You said you would never
mention it, is this how you keep your word?"
Muro’s gaze mockingly
swept the room (immediate perimeter). “You see anyone else here? three or four
odd ghosts, ha, ha” He snickered, shaking his head.
“You have always been far too paranoid
brother. All are peacefully asleep in
their beds already, only a fool would be out of a warm bed at this time of
night when they don't have to be." Observing the other’s rising foul mood
however, he relented.
"Oh, why be so touchy, brother? I was
just toying with you." In a serious
tone then he quickly added. "Besides, you know as well as I, nothing
further came of it."
At this juncture (point in
time) Brandt, stepping out from the shadows turned the knob, brazenly walked in
and said, “That remains to be seen.”
The startled Fayet and
Muro both jumped up, spilling the contents of their cups.
"Oh, it's you, sir.”
Muro, recognizing Brandt, quickly found his tongue.
Fayet getting a grip was
about to coolly castigate (rebuke) this rude intrusion when Brandt’s poignant
look promptly silenced him.
Concealing his contempt
for the two for more can be attained by a glib tongue; Brandt in the next instant however, sporting a wry
grin (false smile), somewhat congenially, accosted them and extended his polite
greetings, as well, his seemingly sincere apologies for the sudden intrusion
that had inadvertently alarmed them. Then getting right to the point, he asked,
"Please do not be offended but, though I did not mean to, I’ve
accidentally overheard the singular topic of your conversation regarding the
one-armed man.” His blunt speech had left no room for denial.
“Be assured that this information shall be
kept in the strictest confidence.” smiling, in a more conciliatory tone he then
quickly added. “It so happens that I am searching for one such person. But
first, may I inquire after the one-armed gentleman's name so as to be
absolutely ascertained that we are speaking of the same being." He paused for a response that was not
forthcoming, checking his rile nevertheless, he sternly added, "The
individual I am seeking is named Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon".
Though he had observed the slight
discoloration in Fayet’s face (cheeks), Muro had been far better at masking his
shock and threw Brandt a curious,
stupefied look, as if to say, “Have I heard you right?”
Brandt disregarding this, in an even tone asked
further, “More importantly, may I inquire how long ago the visitors been at
these premises, and upon their departure which direction did they take? I am
disposed to showing my proper appreciation as well my discretion, for any such
useful information either of you gentle monks may deign to impart." His hand rested on the bulge in his garment
where his money purse rested.
What a gall! What
nerve! Muro thought. Barging
in here without shame, blatantly playing a cat and mouse game with us than
assuming we are bribable. After all that, am I supposed to accept that his
intentions are perfectly honorable?
Fayet inward queries were
similar in nature, though slightly more selfish and deviant. How can I be
certain that, after he extracts the information, he would not then expose my
indiscretions, a sure violation, to my superiors? Though, I confess, the size
of that purse is mighty tempting!
In the end both had
decided to play it safe. "Sir, you must have misunderstood our repartee,
(banter) hmm, idle conversation. We really made no such reference to any such
person.”
“I’m in agreement with my
fellow monk here.” Muro quickly interjected, even though he knew it would be a
futile act. “We tend to exaggerate facts during our discourse, a harmless feat
really, for the purposes of spicing up the exchange. As for the name you just
mentioned, you must surely jest. Was that not the traitor Lord whose name you
spoke of, long since dead?"
Frowning, he added, "Besides, for your own safety's sake, you
should not be stirring at this late hour so far from the guest compounds. Suppose
we mistook you for a prowler and caused you unwarranted harm?"
"That's right",
Fayet stupidly chimed in, "for, on top of that, at night many evil spirits
are abound."
Muro turned a furious
face, an unconcealed irked glare at his friend.
"Both of your
concerns are touching", Brandt
mocked, "but I am most capable of defeating all manner of foe,
whether it be man, ghost or goblin, so you needn't be concerned for my safety. Now, gentle monks, please do not insult my
intelligence any further with your muddled contentions and flimsy excuses. Perhaps
I have not made myself perfectly clear.”
His icy tone biding no argument, sent chills down Fayet’s spine. Even
Muro felt the slithering unease taking hold of his entire body. “You shall be
well compensated for your troubles; as well, I mean to extend to you both, my
utmost discretionary tact.”
I do so detest such
arrogance. Still with the cat out of
the bag … Fayet had already begun
to relent; very much tempted he was, with the promise of generous funds. Besides,
if I do not take the initiative Muro surely will. Then I would feel horrible;
wouldn't I, having lost this golden opportunity? Still, I will have to exercise due caution
for there is a lot at stake here. Can I do that, I wonder, and still benefit
from this deal?
Here Muro differed in his
contemplation, being the worldlier one of the two; meanwhile he could not shake
the overwhelming sensation of peril and being trapped. Unable to decide on the
right course, frightened of Fayet’s innate weakness, the two exchanged guarded,
dubious looks.
Whatever the reason
(cause), they both held their tongues and donned an annoyed look instead,
feigning disapproval at this stranger's audacity.
Brandt, on the point of
losing his patience, what had just then crossed his mind, if they had only
known, would have sent more icy chills down their spine, and cast their souls
to flight.
Unlike Duan however,
Brandt knew when it was wise to
constrain his murderous intent; for these temples with their strong political
backers, could land him in grievous, unwarranted trouble that could hamper his
cause. So, with admirable restraint, he again addressed them.
"Sirs, this pointless
delay is beginning to try my patience."
This time there was no mistaking it, his insidious smile, deliberately,
did not mask the vile murderous intent that had registered fleetingly in his
eyes.
Fayet (assimilating this)
did his best to slow his beating heart, to purge his mind of those frightful,
ugly thoughts but his sallow (pale) complexioned face still contorted with fear.
He opened his mouth to comply when Muro held him back by tugging at his sleeve.
"We know not of his
true identity, sir, being only lowly monks, otherwise we would not have
referred to him only as the one-armed man.” Muro’s indignation anew fueling his
courage, he stood his ground.
“You must discretely pose
your question to one more knowledgeable than we, perhaps to Prior Skceno.”
Fayet suggested meekly, not wishing to be undone.
"Very well, then. I
will trouble you no further. Good night gentle monks." With that, Brandt turned to go.
All the blood in his veins
rushed hotly to Fayet's face. He now regretted his hasty lie, having come this
close to receiving the sum of money. What was I thinking of? Is not this
fear imagined? This is a fortuitous blessing that Muro and I stood to gain. Is
there a way I wonder; can I recoup (redeem) this rare opportunity?
Fayet was a grasping man
by nature, and he was now dismayed over the possibility of letting all that
money slip through his fingers. Eventually he decided that all was not lost
yet, he could still catch up with latter if he hastened. He on some pretext therefore
quickly left his friend. But no sooner had Muro retreated inside, and his door
was closed shut than Fayet with certain agility, sprang into action and rushed
to accost the stranger.
In truth Brandt had dallied with his advance, anticipating
the expected outcome. Hearing Fayet’s call, Brandt stayed his steps and half turned. Fayet
straining to maintain an even breath,
hastened at once to apologize, offering a flimsy excuse for his show of
hesitancy, then broaching a matter disguising the query, sought to learn the
amount the stranger was willing to proffer.
At this point Brandt gave a sly smirk then, opening his purse held the sum in his palm as bait. Out
of earshot of Muro, Fayet sang like a bird, spilling his guts out to tell every
detail he could think of, that pertained to Stark, his group and much, much
more.
After Fayet finished
saying all there was to say, Brandt with his contemptuous smile nodded his head
and made a pretense of accidentally dropping the sum at his feet just as he was
about to hand it to Fayet.
The monk was forced to bow
to the stranger's feet to pick them up one by one, and when he straightened up
(rose) with the collected, gleaming sum, the other had already gone.
Muro had watched this
disgrace from a concealed position at some distance. Rage swelled within his
chest as he shook his head in indignation at the shameful conduct of his friend.
Coming forward now, he fervently grumbled at Fayet.
"How can you allow
that man to humiliate you in that way?” he stormed, shaking an accusatory
finger at Fayet.
"What? What are you
talking about?"
"He purposefully
dropped that money to make you lose face. Have you no shame?"
"No, it is you who
are making things up to embarrass me. You are just jealous because I received
this sum instead of you." Fayet
trembled with rage, then calmed a bit to say in a milder tone, "Brother,
don't you know that I mean to give you your share?" He drew out a small amount and offered it to
Muro.
“I wouldn't touch his
money even if I was destitute." Muro spat on the ground as he pushed
Fayet’s hand away. He was still furious at the stranger. “Manipulations,
threats weren’t enough; he had to insult you as well.”
"What did you say,
Brother Muro?” Fayet pretended not to have heard.
"Oh, forget it!” Muro
huffed exasperatedly as he turned to walk away.
"Hey, wait up. What
is with you anyway?" Fayet swiftly
deposited the entire amount into his inner pocket, rushed to catch up with his
friend.
(END OF SECTION 1)
