LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 2

Nevetsecnuac’s sleep from then on were persistently harangued by an unusual and oftentimes luridly grotesque dream manifestations supplemented with heterogenous (varied) vernacular sounds and noises.

01-NEVETSECNUAC'S NIGHTMARE

Sometimes during slumber his physical form was unremittingly (repeatedly) touched, jabbed, tapped or stroked by an unearthly entity, which erstwhile (at some point) took on the form of a giant, hairy, slimy (creepy-crawly) caterpillar or insect. As these dreadful nightmares increasingly grew worse, Nevetsecnuac in dream state was (literally) actually attacked (assaulted), or periodically and figuratively chased, by these varied, gruesome, ghastly apparitions.

02- NEVETSECNUAC'S NIGHTMARE

Nevetsecnuac each time had intrepidly, however, stood his ground and fought to counter and even vanquish, these rapacious monsters. Furthermore, every morning he awoke with only minor lacerations (cuts, slashes, scratches), with no strain on his psyche, fully refreshed and in sound grip of his faculties.

                                                                                       ~

The ensuing week, as he rode on, having elected to follow a short-cut route through the desert region, he was abruptly anew, and this time during daylight hours, not once but thrice assailed by the repetitive, whirling dust storms that suddenly erupted out of nowhere (always with such intensity that it threatened to promptly bury both man and horse), only to cease just as swiftly, when it failed to elicit least alarm, or perturbance, from  Nevetsecnuac. (This is not to say, Nevetsecnuac hadn’t quietly wondered about the reasons for this persistent assessment of his innate aptitudes.)

03-NEVETSECNUAC

Subsequent days and weeks many other hair-raising measures were thrust upon Nevetsecnuac but he, possessing nerves of steel had nevertheless remained truly fearless and unperturbed even when encountering spine-tingling myriad onslaughts from incalculable supernatural phenomenon. Nevetsecnuac, with his resolute manner (stance, attitude) hence, robbed Zonar of any satisfactory, perhaps perverse (wicked) appeasement, but when in contrast, the real danger struck, he acted adroitly to eliminate it, incurring a secret awe and a deep respect from his presumed pernicious adversary.

Awakened at down one morning, somewhat groggy because of past night’s disturbed sleep under the stars and the usual, plummeted temperatures of the nighttime in the desert- Nevetsecnuac, eager to resume his journey, had quickly led his steps through the tall grass, to the edge of a small pond (tarn), a rare water source in the desert oasis.  Squatting, he was about to proceed with his morning’s ritual (routine) of washing (cleansing) his face, when his attention momentarily was gripped (riveted) by the transformed image of self. Nevetsecnuac somewhat pensively studied the altered reflection on the placid surface of the pond: gone were the long locks of white, blond hair, his tapered blond beard and mustache. Now instead, a mixt (varied) hue(tint) of dark blond, light auburn saturated those strands. But far from being disconcerted (shocked, unsettled), he instead simply smiled, in approval (gayly) nodded his head, then quickly resumed with his washing up. Subsequently, he rose to his feet and respectfully bowed; then, in a resounding voice addressed the air: “Thank you for your pre-emptive (proactive) favor, for this is a much better disguise for me when I enter the capital city of Channing.”

Indeed, for some time now this had been a silent concern for Nevetsecnuac.

 

“You are exasperatingly Cheeky!” The air trembled with his roaring laughter. “Lest you worry… on the day you fulfill your destiny, every strand of your hair shall revert back to its innate hue. Farewell, till we meet again.” Then after a succession of lightning strikes and thunder, Zonar’s invisible (felt) presence was unequivocally (absolutely) gone.

04- ZONAR KUNTZU

                                           ~                               

 The arid topography (land) successfully traversed, Nevetsecnuac presently opting for speed and wishing to recoup some lost time (in Denor) incessantly galloped his charger, the strong cavalry horse that had once belonged to Mouro Kerr, into the distance.

Subsequent weeks, Nevetsecnuac nevertheless prudently (sensibly) had elected to stay away from any human habitation (village, town, or city) and despite periodic, topographic or climatic hindrances (encumbrances), they’d still covered vast expanse. Of late the unusual dry spell and hot temperatures had resulted in much discomfort and hardship, especially for the mount; when their arduous journey of the past two days, the meandering precarious path eventually led them to an undulated forested region, Nevetsecnuac acceded to, them taking a brief noon respite. 

Nevetsecnuac retrieved some dry rations and shaded from the scorching midday sun under a huge elm tree, began reluctantly nibbling on these wild roots, berries and recently acquired (game) raw meat, while keeping a close eye on his contented mount grazing on some taller grass little ways off, under another cluster of ancient trees.

But there would be no lasting reprieve for the weary.

Out of the blue, a thunderbolt from the cloudless sky suddenly struck setting the grass ablaze around Nevetsecnuac’s immediate perimeter.  His horse, grazing outside of the ring of fire, whinnied, and bolted in fright but, strangely enough, did not run very far away. Despite being walled by the raging flames shooting up to the Heavens, Nevetsecnuac unperturbed remained seated and donned a broad smile; then provocatively he thrust the meat skewered on the end of a stick, into the crackling, smoldering flames and exclaimed with delight:

 "Your merits (traits) were sorely missed. It's very good of you, sir, providing this cooking fire, but you needn’t have gone to all that trouble."

Instantaneously black clouds congregated overhead and, within seconds, Nevetsecnuac was drenched to the bone by torrential rains.

"A shower, too, to wash off the grease and clear off the smoke from the air." Nevetsecnuac good-naturedly chortled.

 "Really, sir, you are too kind."  Then, rising to his feet, he gallantly bowed low in thanks.

Zonar’s roaring laughter reverberated through the earth and the limitless sky; then as abruptly, the deluge (downpour) ceased, and the clouds simply vanished.

As only verification, Nevetsecnuac stood mired (stuck) in a knee-deep pool of water, whereas the ground few feet away remained perfectly dry and parched as before.

The stupefied mare, overcoming his fright, now wearily advanced to slake her thirst.

“Zonar… Yes, you do possess remarkable abilities.” Nevetsecnuac concurred inwardly, a hint of smile (grin) brushing his lips. Next, with an agile leap, he landed on a hillock; as he a proceeded to wring the moisture out of his clothes, he further pondered: “Hmm, he’s so like immortals of ancient parables, possesses such powers to summon at will, nature’s forces.  Indeed, I am most fortunate to have encountered him.  Perhaps he can be persuaded to impart some of that unique knowledge to me, for it will certainly prove beneficial in the furthering of my aim.”

05- ZONAR KUNTZU -

“We’ll see first, if you are worthy.” Amazingly enough, an answer reverberated just then, in thin air.

                                                                                       ~

After this last incident, however, Zonar's presence was sorely missed for quite a while; during which time, Nevetsecnuac periodically wondered what twist of fate kept Zonar away. Meanwhile in anticipation of their next impending encounter, Nevetsecnuac tended to his wounds and lacerations by utilizing natural herbal medicines; hunted wild game and dug up roots for sustenance; as well, kept up with his daily routine of martial exercises. His recovery was phenomenal in its swiftness. Subsequently, having recouped his prior strength and stamina, he opted to traversing the wild and dangerous terrain at increasingly greater speed. 

After a length of time with no serious incidence that would warrant any mention, one morning, at the first light of day, Nevetsecnuac senses alerted him (to a strange hissing sound) to wakeful state to confront a monstrous, most venomous viper with Its large, protruding fangs dripped with paralyzing toxin (that would render the victim comatose until the long, tortured, agonizing end), rearing its ugly head in readiness to strike. Quickly determining that this was not another of Zonar’s phantasms, Nevetsecnuac boldly fixed his gaze on the snake till it was mesmerized.  Then, in lightning speed grasping its enormous neck and tail, hurled it away to a safe distance, all done with perfect ease.  His calm demeanor unchanged in the slightest, Nevetsecnuac then yawned and stood up to stretch his limbs.

Suddenly, bolting out of the blue sky, Zonar planted his feet squarely on the ground in front of Nevetsecnuac. “Well done.”

Seeing who it was, Nevetsecnuac smiled and bowed cordially, "I've been looking forward to our meeting, sir. “

In a favorable mood, Zonar returned the greeting and confessed, "I, too sir, have been eagerly anticipating this reunion.  I trust your wounds are completely healed?"

"They have been for quite some time now, thank you for asking." Nevetsecnuac nodded.  "Though there really was no real reason for the delay."

"For the true test there was." Zonar countered, grimacing coldly.

 "Your countrymen are unworthy of my consideration, save for the one I will soon kill.  Yes, it has been my intention from our first meeting to challenge you in combat.  Your skills are superb, even though you disguise them well under that seemingly passive, gentle exterior."

"I only hope I may prove worthy of your high praises and prove not to be too much of a disappointment to you." Nevetsecnuac smiled modestly.

"You have not disappointed me yet." Zonar smiled icily.

 "But enough of these pleasantries; now sir, I ask you formally, where and when do you wish to enter into combat with me?  You may have until noon to reach your decision."

"Why postpone the inevitable?  This is as good a time and place as any."  Nevetsecnuac bowed courteously to initiate the combat.

"Not so fast!" Zonar held up his hand to stay the fight.

 "I, sir, prefer combat with swords, as I suspect you do too; therefore, I have taken pains to construct a blade for you of equal quality to my own. If you are worthy, the first time you use it the blade, it will for a spell, glow iridescent blue. It is a magical sword which will, when not in use, shrink, and transform into shape of a writing brush. When you inwardly invoke the word: Lohcnilik it will instantly transform into a sword which is now before you. To summon it back to the state of writing brush, you simply cogitate (reflect) on the word: Lomelak.”  Zonar paused at this point to cast Nevetsecnuac a broad, daring smile. 

06- ZONAR KUNTZU - 2 (13)

“If you survive your combat with me, you may consider it an advance gift. And always keep it on your person; one day it will be of use to you when you confront your arch nemesis. Now let’s see how well you’ll fare in contest (of swordfight) with me.” As he said this, he’d just then hurled (in lightning speed) the second sword, still stuck in its scabbard, to Nevetsecnuac.

 It shot up into the air like a lightning bolt riding the wind.

Nevetsecnuac reached up and grabbed the hilt, letting the scabbard sail past.  Studying the blade carefully, he nodded in approval, "Remarkable construction."

Zonar was pleased to see the blade’ flashing for a spell, iridescent blue. What he’d left out in his speech earlier was that, if Nevetsecnuac had not been deemed worthy, the blade would have turned instantly red-hot and singed (scorched) not just the hand but the entire body (of the mortal) to a crisp.

Zonar nodded and grinning, replied: “Quite right, it’s decades far along your country's technology; furthermore, this durable blade will cut through solid rock as if it was but tender flesh."

“Now let us begin.”

 

(END OF SECTION 2)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 1

 Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac), relentlessly pursuing Mouro Kerr, ascended several flights of stairs that led upwards to the open air.  As he took the next sharp turn, however, he found himself face to face with Zonar Kuntzu, grasping in his left hand, suspended by the hair, the ghastly severed head of Mouro, dripping its blood onto the corpse at his feet.

"I abhor debauched officials, but, even more, I despise devious cowards." Zonar grunted, glowering at Mouro's head before he hurled it into the distance with disdain.

His fiery eyes next riveted on Fradel.  "Our meeting was not ordained for this night," he spoke sternly then, turning his back on Fradel, walked away.

01- ZONAR KUNTZU

 At that instant, however, Fradel leaped into the air and flipped over Zonar's head to land right before him and block his way.

 Zonar, taken aback slightly, knit his brows, "Are you courting death, sir?" He should actually had called him nephew… but not yet!  Zonar ruminated (brooded, pouted).

Fradel, bowing in respect, begged the warrior's indulgence and asked for Zonar's full name so that he may offer his proper thanks to his benefactor who had, not once but twice, rendered him a valuable service.

Zonar grimaced wryly, "You are too polite sir.  Thanks, are neither warranted nor necessary, since I am only reciprocating a kind turn rendered to me once."

He was about to walk away again when Fradel more persistently barred his way, requesting an introduction and a proper surname.

Checking his annoyance, Zonar glowed.  "And you, sir, are you in turn willing to oblige me by disclosing your true (legitimate) identity?" he asked with icy cynicism.

Taken aback slightly, Nevetsecnuac burrowed his questioning eyes on Zonar.  He hesitated, not wishing to insult (affront) this formidable warrior's intelligence by insisting that he was, indeed, the scholarly poet Fradel Rurik Korvald, yet still consumed with a desire to learn just how much Zonar knew or suspected.

02- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC)

"I thought not," Zonar interrupted the suspenseful air.  "To each his own, then,” as he turned his back once more, he added in a thundering voice, "but I thank you for your courtesy; denial at this point would only have incurred my ire.”

Nevetsecnuac had, just then, detected a familiar, slight accent in Zonar's dialect, one not unlike that of the assassin Duan. Quite intrigued, Nevetsecnuac remained ever more reluctant to let Zonar go; feet firmly planted on ground, he stubbornly blocked Zonar’s path as his mind pondered.

 “It has to be more than paranoia, more than a mere fluke that our paths have crossed with such frequency; but what importance does these coincidences entail?”

Nevetsecnuac had first encountered Zonar innocently enough at Aguda and Yagu's Inn but, since then, the strong sense (intuition) of being persistently stalked had both intrigued and troubled him. Possessing incredible prowess, Zonar had appeared and disappeared without a trace at will; in Yenis Luko's room at Kuno Temple, then again at the trial, where he disappeared dramatically in the midst of a crowd after issuing his threat to Micen Do, and his sudden appearance again here. This could not all be mere coincidences; therefore, what was it Zonar really after?  And since Nevetsecnuac could not ascertain the precise timing of Zonar's (appearance) materialization at this last locale, he abstained from theorizing why Zonar had not joined in the fray (combat) earlier on, either for or against him. Zonar’s poignant reference to their impending future meeting, on the other hand, merited probing. With Heng Erling’s treachery still fresh in mind, Nevetsecnuac (forgoing all the conjecture,) glued his gaze on Zonar but this time with a look of askance, wishing to engage him in friendly dialogue, regardless of the consequences.

“Are you done, probing?” Zonar was briefly amused.

"Your persistence, however, is getting rather tiresome." Zonar stared down at Nevetsecnuac. “Unfortunately, I am pressed for time and furthermore, I have no wish to engage in dialogue or fight (test) with you at this point in time. “ Zonar was about to snap his fingers and simply disappear, but then on second thought, he stayed long enough to add: “ I would think that your mind would be beset with more pressing concerns, such as, the whereabouts of Fradel Rurik Korvald's real identity papers. For without them, how could you gain entry to the Capital to ultimately fulfill your destiny?"

 Noting Nevetsecnuac's slight start at the emphasis on the word 'real' he threw his head back and laughed raucously…Then, before Nevetsecnuac could respond, "Oh, here."

 In a flash Zonar produced the envelope from an inner pocket and thrust it into Nevetsecnuac's hand.

03- ZONAR KUNTZU

 "No need to thank me for them, either." he shrugged.  "They were of no use to me, anyway."

Seeing that they were, indeed, the originals and not the forgeries Mouro had spoken of, Nevetsecnuac's heart filled with gratitude, and he looked up at once to thank Zonar and to question him about it.

 He was nowhere to be seen.  Quite mysteriously once more, Zonar had disappeared without a trace into thin air, with not even the slightest sound to alert Nevetsecnuac's keen senses.  Frowning, Nevetsecnuac strained his eyes and scanned the area.

"Don't fret, we'll be meeting again soon enough." the thunderous voice shook the skies, and the subsequent roaring laughter trailed off into the distance.

Nevetsecnuac's entreaties for him to halt, his dares to manifest himself fell on deaf ears so, eventually, he gave up trying and returned to the matters at hand.  Nevetsecnuac clad in more appropriate (armor) travelling attire, first secured Hecun's sword, this along with his scholar's vestments and identity papers in a bundle, Nevetsecnuac fastened them all onto the harness of Mouro's charger (strong cavalry horse). He gave a proper burial to Doctor Sullen and the others then vaulting the mare resumed his journey to the Capital.

                                                                               ~

In the ensuing days and nights, Nevetsecnuac could not shake the feeling of being monitored (watched) by an unseen entity; for intuitively, despite the seeming absence of form, he certainly sensed unearthly presence at every turn. It was like that of Zonar’s aura, a force, and yet not quite the same… This presence was, inured, (callous, desensitized) yet same time more deadly and, it definitely was in pursuit of something or someone, other than him. Nevetsecnuac was just a conduit (channel, means); the phantom hunter (tracker) had intangibly stalked him to attain real prey (target). Nevetsecnuac did not know it, but he had instinctively detected the unseen presence of an immortal, one called Dwengzur; who had been assigned to hunt down and destroy the renegade Immortal before he reached his full potential.

04- NEVETSECNUAC BEING MONITORED BY UNSEEN DWENGZUR

A scant scent of target had led Dwengzur to that spot where the previous battle had taken place. Nevetsecnuac, a sole survivor emerging from the scene, warranted attention and therefore had been pursued; but when the mark (trace, hint), whatever was attached to this mortal had proven false, then one day Nevetsecnuac’s keen sensation of been persistently monitored, had abruptly cessed (terminated, ended).

                                                                                   ~

Several days later, however, the sensation of being observed by an unknown force had again returned, though, this one was not hostile.  Nevertheless, Nevetsecnuac was bit peeved (annoyed, ticked off), that he’d been persistently for some unknown reason was being monitored and audaciously, subtly tested; and so, once after a long, tiring ride, when he halted for respite at the edge of a thick forest, near a flowing creak, he’d shouted his dare into the air:

“If you are fair, face me true, or, try another, more (effective) potent tactic.”

Subsequently, as he waited for a response, (with his senses on high alert,) he’d perfunctorily laid down his bedding under an ancient tree and, after starting a small campfire, his eyes pensively watched the steed graze on the lush grass, then quietly sat down to, for his sustenance, roast the already cleaned and gutted small game (rabbit)  he’d snared earlier on.  

His hunger satiated, after a bout (spell) of reflection, for disappointingly nothing untoward had happening (manifesting): “Oh well,” shrugging his shoulders, Nevetsecnuac briefly looked up at the cloudless sky overhead, which was blanketed with stars that winked incessantly, then donning a knowing, broad smile, he reclined and closed his eyes in sleep.

Suddenly, as if in answer to his earlier challenge, an arrow pierced the air and, finding its mark, got buried deep into the log where Nevetsecnuac had used as his pillow, its shaft barely grazing the tip of his nose.

"You are back; but surely you can do better!" Nevetsecnuac, unperturbed, chortled and, pulling out the arrow, with ease, tossed it aside.

"Don't provoke me, for I can ground your bones to dust with but a single blow."

A terrifying voice boomed (roared) out of the darkness.

"You're welcome to try." Nevetsecnuac masking his inner elation (excitement), with a wry grin goaded presumed Zonar further, eyes still (closed) shut tight.

In a bolder move yet, Nevetsecnuac simply shifted his body to get more comfortable and then yawning, plaintively mumbled.  "I’ve had a long day’s ride but pray do your worst for; as yet, you have shown me nothing of your vaunted might?"

The dare had barely left his lips when, with a deafening, crackling sound, the ancient tree sheltering Nevetsecnuac split right down the middle into two perfect halves. If not for a nimble jump to safety, Nevetsecnuac would have been pulverized under the enormous trunk as it came crashing (in big chunks) to the ground. His mare, as luck would have it, was tethered to another tree opposite and so had escaped the danger.

"How unreasonable, this tree had existed for thousands of years yet perished in a flash." Nevetsecnuac shook his head disapprovingly as he viewed the damage.  "Such is the vanity of man."

05- NEVETSECNUAC DISSAPPOINTED

"You dare mock me?"  Zonar's thundering voice, though he remained invisible still, quaked the ground under Nevetsecnuac's feet, suddenly splitting it wide open, with dislodged soil and rock subsequently plunging (plummeting) into a deep chasm (gorge).

Nevetsecnuac had escaped this catastrophe by nimbly, in the nick of time, jumping to one side of the precipice.  After which, still clinging onto the exposed roots at the edge, he’d hauled himself up to safety. He nonchalantly dusted off his clothes while inwardly marveling at the other's incredible powers.

Unperturbed, he shouted out defiantly, “You had best resign (quit) tonight, for I refuse to oblige your whims any longer.  Sleep is what awaits me now."  This said, he picked out another suitable ground under another ancient tree and reclined his head. Nothing much happened that evening and he slept soundly till dawn.

 

(END OF SECTION 1)                                                                                           ~

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 34

At sunrise of the subsequent day with all accounts at the Inn quickly settled, Mouro and his company (Kade Luir and Dag Diez) quietly departed.  Reaching the dirt road they then relentlessly surged forward at lightning speed leaving in their wake a trail (cloud) of dust. Mouro, with secret purpose in mind,  led his group through a different sort of paths (that snaked over a rougher terrain) than the ones he had followed the previous night; nevertheless, despite the precarious topography, they had pushed on relentlessly not stopping to eat or rest until, finally, just before dusk, they arrived at the specific stone bridge, spanning a bottomless chasm.

 There they met up with three mounted guards who had taken an alternate route. Mouro frostily nodded to the fair-haired guard in acknowledgement, a sort of greeting, ignoring the two stalwarts, heavily armed, tall guards flanking him. Mouro held in check his fury, of the two guards’ obvious failure.

01- FAIR HAIRED GUARD

No words were necessary, all dismounting at once, Mouro in the lead, they cautiously led their mount across the bridge.  As they advanced a certain (foreboding) amount of trepidation, however, filled their hearts when no one accosted them on the opposite side; instead, an eerie silence prevailed, heightening the tension of the air. With only the sound of their footsteps filling their ears, those in front cautiously pushed open the half standing iron gates to the temple and stepped across the threshold. All at once (suddenly), the stench of death assailed their noses as they were struck by the sight of countless maimed and mutilated corpses littering the courtyard, floating in pools of their own blood.

"What treachery is this?" The fair-haired guard pointed at the corpses and glared at Mouro.

"Why do you ask me?  This atrocity is clearly the work of the assassin, Zonar." Mouro sneered as he froze Diez's hand on his sword hilt with a commanding glance.  “Not yet!” It spoke. “He’ll be dealt with soon enough.”

"No, this is not Zonar's work.  These men were all murdered by a coward, one who poisoned them before mutilating their corpses.  There's no use denying it, I tracked you here last night.  Your game is up.  Call the rest of your vile dogs out of hiding."  Fradel Rurik Korvald, bristling, with fiery contempt in his eyes, rebuked Mouro.

Checking his surprise, Mouro glared for a moment at the two companion guards of Fradel, seething with burning rage for their incompetence which had now placed him in this predicament; but then in a change of heart, he pinned his wrathful gaze back on Fradel.

"How dare vermin like you call me a coward to my face?  I'll wrest your quivering liver up through your throat and make you eat it with those words." 

Mouro’s hand involuntarily clasped his sword's hilt, itching to strike Fradel down right then and there; but curiosity getting the better of him, he released his grip and, suppressing his fury, with a scathing sneer, he coldly demanded: "How long have you known?"

02- (PINNING HIS GAZE) MOURO KERR

"From the start;" came Fradel's wry response.  "I knew I was not being led to a meeting with my benefactor, Zonar.  I went along; just the same, to see how far you and your goons would be willing to go."

 Fradel, with not a shred of fear, knowingly eyed his companion guards and then cast his gaze to the high compound walls circling him that had just then become dotted with armed foes.

Fifty-nine formidable warrior guards clad in full armor, specifically picked for their competence to contest Zonar's prowess, brandishing their swords, stood their ground, in readiness for the anticipated order for the onslaught.

It quickly (dawned on) became clear to Fradel that these were the inferred agents in the previous night's conversation between Mouro and Hecun, only they were planted, not by Micen as the former had claimed, but rather by the culprit, cunning Mouro himself.  Weaving the web of treachery ever tighter they, accordingly, had spread wild rumors and suspicions about the wine to the intended victims.  But when, in turn, they were invited by Hecun to partake of some, they had most willingly guzzled it down, avoiding instead the laced water from the well to conclude the vile, treacherous deed of barbarically annihilating the incapacitated where they had fallen.

Now, the instant the armed foe had sprung into view from their hiding places, Fradel had, with lightning speed, turning their weapons against them, vanquished (bested) those formidable assassins that had accompanied him. He then with his unyielding, unflinching, solid defensive stance (posture) faced Mouro.

A momentary shudder brushed against Mouro's heart; for unarmed as he was, Fradel Rurik Korvald still looked most formidable.

 Compounding his consternation, Mouro recalled just then Fradel's unusual doggedness (grit) and fortitude (resilience) in the court.  How when he was on the brink, incensed, chained though he was, he had strained his bonds almost to the breaking point.

“A fine, heroic, picture you represent.”  Disregarding his strong premonition of doom, Mouro, nevertheless emboldened by their numbers, simply sneered.

 He threw his head back and laughed uproariously next.  "What gall!”

“Hah; Clearly your benefactor has abandoned you to fend for yourself; what makes you think that you can take us all on, (unarmed) bare handed?" he scoffed.

"I have righteousness as my armor and weapon; that is more than enough. All your evil ways will end here! “Fradel responded sternly.

"And who appointed you judge?" Mouro indignantly spat on the ground.

 "You scholars disgust me, always spouting useless, empty rhetoric! Why not just surrender to your fate, a pretty boy like you, and get down on your knees to beg for mercy?"  Dag Diez just then interjected scowling. He next threw a quick knowing smirk at Mouro.

03- DAG DIEZ

 Before Fradel could respond Mouro, highly incensed by Dag Diez's insubordination, had struck him a severe blow across the mouth with the back of his fist, knocking loose the guard's incisor teeth. The shamefaced Dag Diez, swallowing his fury, spat the teeth to the ground; next, submissively wiping the blood trickling off his chin, he grunted an insincere apology to Mouro.

Ignoring him entirely, Mouro had instead locked his burning gaze on Fradel. Seeing Fradel now in a different light, Mouro (with his hand signal) forestalled the order for the assault and fixedly (keenly) at present, scrutinized this mystifying, worthy adversary.

A scholar…  He looked more Like a...  Mouro could not rightly grasp the… thought.

Disregarding the feeling of an ominous shadow falling over his own self perceived omnipotence and coveting Fradel's noble air; with intense curiosity trampling reason, he scathingly hissed:

"So, you’d anticipated me all along, yet you willingly walked right into this ambush.  That makes you either a very courageous man or a foolhardy one.  But tell me first, since you are so smart at figuring things out, did you also guess that, to create a diversion, the humane physician Sullen Adams would be sacrificed, condemned to slow, torturous death in that iron cage in your stead?"

Mouro had pointed at the discarded, upturned (overturned) prisoner’s iron cage off to the side; but then, answered his own query (question) with a gloat, as he circled Fradel menacingly.

 "No, I see you did not.  To tell the truth I felt no real animosity at all towards Sullen personally, when I presented (offered, posed) the suggestion to Micen Do. Mouro smirked.

04- PHYSICIAN SULLEN ADAMS

“Yes, he was rather an amiable fellow, and we are kinsmen, after all but," he shrugged his shoulders dispassionately; "he brought this on himself.  He had become expendable you see.  Foolishly ignoring all good advice, he kept on preaching justice and morality to Micen and me, as if in such precarious times that it mattered, and worse still, he always stuck up for the underdog, amassing (accruing) unwarranted enmity (rancor, malice)."

Mouro pursed his lips mockingly, "He was supportive and obliging to you as well, was he not?  Well, I had to repay him for his courtesy to you, since you were indisposed.  You scholars, so righteous and honor bound, you always insist on settling all old accounts (scores).”

“Do you wish to know how I did it, how I paid him back in full on your behalf?  No need to thank me for it."  Mouro threw his head back and laughed menacingly.

 "Oh, but it was entirely, my pleasure, your honor (eminence)," then slightly inclined his head mockingly.

 "Yes, you require details…But I'll be succinct.  After his visit with you I had his tongue cut out, his face mutilated and then, bound up like a pig about to be taken to the market for slaughter, he was stuffed in there, to rot in your stead.  But then, it was a strategic (importance) imperative that he took your place and, “Mouro smirked. “Also, that you now perish here, by my hand."

Mouro, facing Fradel squarely (directly) now, brandished his sword.  "Now I will double my pleasure by doing the same to you, only worse! I'll savor your death in bits.  My sword will split you asunder like a ripe melon and leave you swimming in your own entrails."

The absence of fear or emotional reaction of any kind on the stone (wooden) face of Fradel Rurik Korvald infuriated Mouro to the point of total exasperation.

“This is truly a momentous occasion, well deserving of attribution from posterity, for within the next few minutes the overrated illustrious Fradel Rurik Korvald will cease to exist.  He will be no more!" Mouro had uttered the last sentence in resounding voice, disguised as boastful proclamation, as the specific command for the armed force that had already encircled Fradel, to stand ready for the assault (onslaught).

"The only thing you will savor will be your own end."  Fradel's retort was, at first, in an even tone. "By your own vile deeds, you have flouted Heaven's will.  The time for retribution is near at hand, yet you are too blind to see it.  Very soon, in the afterlife, you will be judged and asked to account for your abhorrent crimes against humanity.  Instead of boasting about your prowess, you should be on your knees, trembling in fear, and begging for redemption."

As he’d continued, Fradel's voice by degrees had grown in intensity, thundering across the ground to send cold shivers down Mouro's spine and make his hair stand on end.

"Enough said!"  Mouro regained his grip on himself then, on his hand signal, simultaneously with the rest of the guards, launched a deadly assault on the scholar Fradel.

Fradel repulsed them all.  Dodging and swerving to avert the many murderous, repeated blows, the strikes from swords, spears and halberds as they were thrust at him from all directions, now on the defensive, now on the offensive, in a maneuver unseen before and waylaid dozens of them in a flash.

05--FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC)

Then in an astonishing turn he delivered a fierce, swift kick directly to Mouro's chest which hurled Mouro up into the air and, flipping him over, landed him flat on his rear end on top of the others who had fallen.  His sword flew from his hand, landing upright a few feet away.  Had Mouro not worn his armor under his civil garb, he would not have been able to get up off the ground in one piece.

  As it was, his ribs were unbroken and only his pride was hurt.

"All of you stay back!  He's mine!"

 Mouro fiercely bellowed his order as he rushed to pick up his sword from the ground.  Then he charged (on horseback) like a mad bull straight for Fradel Rurik Korvald, wielding the sword in zigzag, across and interlaced styles.

The well-armed guards, silently nursing their grievance, picked themselves up off the ground and, in compliance, joined the others to assemble into a tight, impenetrable cordon encircling the combatants.  There, with blood boiling and burning eyes pinned to Fradel Rurik Korvald, they studiously traced his every maneuver, his every move during the ensuing hours of fierce fighting.  Avidly they searched to find any weakness in Fradel's combat style, but he appeared to be invincible and continued to be just as lethal without a weapon as his opponent was when armed.

Mouro was a competent fighter in his own right, with an untarnished record of victories over many worthy opponents and famed champions.  Mouro's style of fencing, especially his waterwheel and reverse dragonfly styles, was superb; still, it soon became apparent that he was experiencing difficulty in keeping Fradel Rurik Korvald at bay, let alone in besting him.  Whirling like a devil, Mouro struck, thrust and hacked at Fradel repeatedly but all his efforts were in vain.  After ten rounds, as hungry as his blade was to taste blood, it could not effect (realize) even so much as a scratch on Fradel Rurik Korvald.  Worse still, while the scholar had maintained his strength, Mouro's effort looked to be waning.

When Mouro's blade, meeting resistance under Fradel's grip, suddenly snapped in two in the midst of the fierce fighting, Mouro quickly jumped out of the combat circle to retrieve another weapon.  Diez and the rest of the guards, anxious to display their might, seized this opening and, brandishing their weapons, were spontaneously spurred into action, launching offensive after offensive.  As they continued to engage Fradel, Mouro, having flung aside his broken ancestor sword, pried loose the good sword from the half-severed hand of Hecun then charged back in fury through the lines to join in the fray and again combat Fradel Rurik Korvald head on.

Just then on the opposite side Diez, taking advantage of the general mayhem, had ducked and swerved fiercely to get into a position to fiercely thrust his sword at Fradel's lower back.  Meeting a resistance, he received instead a serious blow to the head which then knocked him to the ground, unconscious.

06 -FRADEL (NEVETS)

 Mouro, deflecting the second blow aimed in his direction, managed to fall behind the lines of fighting men then rushed to Diez's side.

 Instead of lending him assistance, reviving him or pulling him aside, as everyone expected he might do, he instead severed Diez's head from his limp body in one swift stroke of his blade then, stepping squarely over the headless corpse, pushed on ahead through the line of combat to launch his deadly assault on Fradel Rurik Korvald anew.

 In the ferocity of the struggle, no one had stopped to make sense of this treachery except for Fradel, who readily understood in light of what he had heard of Mouro's conversation the previous night.  Mouro's precaution had made it apparent that part of the tale he concocted for Hecun was the truth.

As the Earth was mantled in darkness, beacon fires had been lit to assist the crescent moon in lighting up the dilapidated temple grounds.  Meanwhile the fierce fighting continued without pause as the battle cries filled the silence of the night, disturbing the dead.

 Despite the guards' effective armors, their superiority of arms and their joint deadly assaults, their combined tactical offensives against one unarmed man whose wounds had not yet completely healed, with all the odds seemingly against Fradel Rurik Korvald he still managed to turn the tide of destiny in his favor.

Besides effectively repulsing their ineffective assaults, unyielding in strength and resilience as he was, he seemed to be endowed with a superhuman ability, striking swiftly like the wind.  So powerful were his maneuvers, his deflections and his counter assaults that, in a whirling feat, the blades of his opposition snapped asunder at the hilts, spears got entangled and halberds became totally ineffective as his fierce blows penetrated through the armor to vanquish them all.

 All, that is, except Mouro.

Realizing the hopelessness of their situation well before the rest, Mouro, in mortal fear for his life, created a diversion and had turned tail and ran, abandoning his men in the thick of battle to their own devices of defense or, more specifically, to their own impending doom but Fradel, disposing of the rest in one sweep, had raced after Mouro.

The culprit, Mouro, having previously scouted the temple grounds, knew well which turns to take or which path to follow to avoid the many pitfalls, perilous snares and booby-traps that the years of neglect and the ravages of nature had compounded.

 Having led Fradel to a maze of underground tunnels in the interior, designed specifically by the former denizens to entrap unwanted intruders, Mouro, weaving in and out, tried his utmost, though unsuccessfully, to shake Fradel off of his trail.

“He is so formidable; just my luck to come across someone so prodigious, so entirely relentless….” Suddenly an inexplicable fear filled Mouro’s heart realizing his own measure of inadequacies, limitations, while being pursued by this invincible foe.

 What kind of Scholar was he… endowed with such incessant superhuman qualities? Or was he a Demon posing as a scholar?

                                                                                   ~

 

(END OF SECTION 34- THE CONCLUSION OF THE STATE OF THINGS)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 33

Hecun half believing his ears nevertheless listened on, as Mouro summarized Micen's reasons, his fears of retribution from the not so vulnerable, in fact the dangerously influential Fradel Rurik Korvald, and the entire sinister plot that had been concocted to extricate Micen from any danger and future trouble.

"After you had been poisoned all the corpses, including the prisoner, would have been barbarously mutilated.  In addition to some incriminating evidence planted at the scene, the blame for the massacre would have been indisputably shifted onto Zonar, and the responsibility for it onto Magistrate Rue."

"So, because of Micen's incompetent handling of this case, all of us were to be brutally sacrificed just to tidy up his own mess."  Hecun, understanding the full implications, mused out loud.

"Yes.  That, in a nutshell, would be it exactly."

"Such treachery I can expect from Micen Do," Hecun's face darkened as he burrowed his burning gaze into Mouro, "but you, you?  If you were aware of this diabolical plot from the start, why did you not see fit to warn me about it?"

"Think, brother, could I really do that without exposing myself?  As far as they are concerned, we have been adversaries ever since I took that promotion away from you."

"You're so smart; you could have found a way if you'd wanted to.”

"All right, perhaps I'm deserving of your contempt."  Mouro turned his head away, abashed, and then wryly ejected, "Though I'm ashamed to admit it now, I did, at the time, go along with Micen, selfishly wanting greater gain.  I'm not perfect."

"Greater gain… What, a greater gain!" Hecun exploded. "Greater gain than our friendship?  After all I've done for you?  You bring a new meaning to the word 'loyalty'."  Hecun highly incensed, spat on the ground in disgust.

 "From now on I will consider you as my enemy."

"Not so fast", Mouro protested, blocking the other's way.

"You're always so dramatic!  No, you listen!  Fine, I accept my shortcomings.  I confess that perhaps I'm too ambitious.  I'm guilty as Hell all right and I deserve your contempt, but doesn't it count for something that I didn't go through with it?  I didn't have to expose the plan to you at all, you know."

"True, you didn't, but there still is the fact that you collaborated with Micen against me.  You cold-heartedly plotted to murder me.  Am I supposed to feel better now that you've had a sudden attack of conscience?" Hecun scoffed coldly.

"Fine, I deserved that!  I'm a despicable human being, not as noble as you.  Now that you've gotten all that off of your chest, will you at least listen to me?  Whether you like it or not, if you're to survive this danger, you must work with me and not against me.  It’s imperative that we pool our resources together to deliver you from this perilous predicament.  Though you may now think that it’s asking too much, you must put your trust in me for this, if only but for old times’ sake."

“Trust you?  Trust you?  Imagine, you have the audacity to ask me that?  I'd sooner trust a scorpion.”

 Suppressing his inner feelings then, speaking aloud, Hecun asked wryly, "How do I know this isn't another ruse, another twisted plot?  How can I be ascertained that you're not ensnaring me in yet another facet of Micen's fatal trap, eh?"

"You're wrong, brother, in still suspecting me."

"Don't call me your brother,” Hecun spat on the ground.  "You disgust me."

"Fine, fine…Go ahead and hate me if you must but, for heaven's sake, don't let your emotions have reign over your reasoning."  Mouro was fighting hard to contain his anger.

"Stop for a minute and think.  Why did I let you in on it?  You think I like making things difficult for me?  Believe me when I say, this was the only way I could intercede and come through for you without endangering myself as well.  I haven't got much time to try to convince you of this.  I have to get back before I'm missed, so let some sense penetrate that thick skull of yours.  I made a clean breast of things too...Oh, all right; I'll confess this as well, if only to convince you: my fate, just like yours, is also hanging in balance here.  Yes, I, too, am in as much peril."

"So that's it!  It was because your own hide is at risk.  That's the reason for your change of heart.  I knew there was a good, solid, selfish motive behind all this sudden honesty." Hecun sneered.

Ignoring him, Mouro glanced around suspiciously then continued, "Unfortunately, I became aware of this fact only recently.”

“A few days back, as I was contemplating a means of helping you and, at the same time, considering taking my own guards into my confidence when some relatively insignificant act by Dag Diez arose my suspicion.  Since this nagging doubt persisted, I arranged to have him totally incapacitated by drink and seduced by an innkeeper's voluptuous niece.  After he had passed out, she let me into his room, and I made an avid search of his clothing.  You must understand why this measure was warranted.  For the entire duration of our journey, I had not seen Dag Diez even once disrobe for any reason.  He even insisted on sleeping fully clothed.  Little did I expect to find my own death warrant?  It was there, though, that vile, confounded, confidential letter from Micen, oh, I know his handwriting, ordering him to cooperate fully with the spies in your detachment and, after the completion of the deed, to dispose of my own corpse in the same fashion and add my name to the casualty list as well."

Mouro frowned, biting his lip.  "Now, I ask you, how could you and I, who hand-picked those two hundred men, have been so remiss, so gullible, as to have allowed some of Micen's spies to infiltrate those ranks?  It boggles the mind how we could have been so easily duped.  I admit, it’s partly my own fault for underestimating the resourcefulness of that crafty Micen Do, as well as the extent of his power."  Mouro's voice softened as he began speaking half to himself and began to walk away.

"That's essentially it.  Using my weakness against me, he beguiled me into believing I was his indispensable confidant.  Oh, what a joke!  But then, yes, it’s clear to me now why he wished to be rid of me."  For a moment Mouro reflected, absentmindedly drifting off to further personal, private concerns.  Catching himself in his folly, he abruptly halted, cleared his throat, and turned his gaze back to Hecun.

Smiling wryly, he continued, “Needless to say, from the moment I'd read the letter I was positively incensed, hence even more determined to completely undermine Micen's grand scheme."

Gritting his teeth, he stayed slightly on every word, "And this will be achieved only by our safe delivery of the prisoner Fradel Rurik Korvald to the Capital."  He then nodded with assurance for emphasis, noting Hecun's remaining skepticism. 

"Therein will lay our salvation...  As I mentioned briefly prior to this, Fradel Rurik Korvald has a strong influence among the powerful elite of the Imperial Court.  As soon as his grievance against Micen is aired to them, the repercussions against the Prefect will surely follow.  We, meanwhile, will delay setting out on our return journey and so escape the inevitable rippling effects of his downfall.

03- MOURO AND HECUN

“I must rely, of course, on Fradel's sense of fair play since he does appear to be that sort.  I'm confident he won't persecute those who are only doing their jobs.  Who can fault us for merely following orders, especially if tomorrow, after the opposition is wiped out, we make certain amends to him at obvious risk to ourselves."  Recalling his own ill-treatment of the prisoner in the courtroom, Mouro hung his head in silence but quickly shrugged his shoulders and brushed it aside.

“At least you were not as cruel with Fradel Rurik Korvald as you were with that hapless Canute Yonn,” Hecun pondered the same concerns.

Surmising the Bailiff's thoughts, Mouro grimaced coldly.  "For now, you must guard the prisoner well and let no harm befall him.  When I show up tomorrow with Kade Luir, for I mean to dispose of that cur Dag Diez well before then, you and I will express concern and release Fradel from the cage.  I'm sure he won't raise a serious objection to being put back inside once we're in the vicinity of Magistrate Rue's offices.”

“Oh, unfortunately, my hasty departure tonight made me entirely forget to bring the key.  But then, it would have been rather pointless anyhow, even if I had remembered."  He spread his hands animatedly, sneering, "You couldn't just spring him out now, could you?  He'll be far safer tonight staying just where he is."

“And besides, you wouldn't want me to take all the credit in Fradel's eyes, would you?” Hecun narrowed his eyes.

"Now remember, after I've taken off in a huff tonight, you must let yourself be cajoled into a calmer state, then condescend to drinking the wine that I had brought along.  Well before this, however, you must select two competent and trustworthy men and take them into your confidence, for you cannot do this alone.  Let them know that you suspect renegades have infiltrated their ranks in order to prevent the successful conclusion of this mission.  With their support you can then make your move.  In isolated, controlled groups share the wine with each of the men.  Those guards who abstain from drinking it, as they believe that it’s lethal, must be put to the sword at once.  Do not, I repeat, do not, hesitate or even consider taking them prisoners because it will only lead to further complications down the road.  The odds are stacked against us as it is; why should we needlessly compound the risks with traitors as prisoners?  Oh, and here, before I forget."  Mouro drew out a folded paper from an inner pocket.  "The directions in here will lead you to that well.  I regret that I have no time now to show it to you."

"Are you certain Kade Luir is to be trusted?  How can you be so certain that he's not in league with Dag Diez?"

04-KADE LUIR

"Him...?  Yes.  Kade Luir and I are, or rather had been once, rather intimate, sort of…”  Mouro smiled sheepishly, knowing Hecun's intolerance of his illicit relationships with men.

"You may not condone it," he could not resist rubbing it in, "but its commonplace in the army. This sort of friendship, the comradery (comradeship), fosters true loyalty, especially when your life is repeatedly put at risk; moreover, you can see how useful it proved at this instance.  Yes, I do trust Kade Luir completely; at best he will assist us, at worst, he won't give us any trouble.  Come to think of it, since he's quite adept with a sword, I will do my utmost to enlist his assistance should things go awry, and I'm forced into dire armed (conflict) confrontation with that brute Dag Diez.  You see, Dag Diez is guarded against me but not against Kade Luir.  He looks down on and despises him, considers him a weakling because of his suspected assignations a long time ago with me."  Mouro ignored the judgmental reproach in Hecun's (eyes) look.

"Hence, I can use this effectively against Dag Diez to beget (effect) his demise.  Now, let us both get back before we arouse suspicion.  You know what to do.  Play your part well."

After these directions Mouro strode boldly out of the ruined tower with Hecun close at his heels.  Suddenly, he halted in mid stride, causing Hecun to crash into his back.  Turning to face the Head Bailiff, Mouro said gravely, "Oh, there is one more thing I'd unfortunately neglected to mention."

Cautiously glancing about, he moved his head closer to Hecun's and whispered, "Fradel Rurik Korvald's identity papers that you were furnished with are false.  When my suspicions were aroused, I unsealed an envelope I had been entrusted with containing what I was told were his true papers.  Examining them with great care they, too, proved to be clever forgeries. “

“Hmm… Let us hope that, when I bring the key tomorrow, we find the originals in there with him.  Otherwise, we'll be in a terrible fix, won't we?  I don't know what we'll do then.  Now, let's play out this charade to its conclusion."  He dashed forward, along with Hecun, to be swallowed up by the oppressive darkness.

Feigning great anger when he came within sight of the guards, Mouro marched right through them with curses on his lips, violently kicking away the red-hot embers of the campfire in his path.  He boldly strode past the sentry, still fuming, and, snatching the horse's reins away, led the mare across the bridge.

Hecun, behind him, was left to play out the next, very crucial, scene.

                                                                                     ~

 

(END OF SECTION 33)