LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 1

 

The highway they traveled on from the port of Hanbrak teemed with increasingly denser traffic as they neared the walled Capital, Channing.  Soon they saw it: the monumental, awesome structure with its intermittent towers piercing the heavens, attesting to the skill and greatness of Wenjenkun. It needed no explanation as to why and how these virtually indestructible defenses had withstood centuries of offensives.  The outer wall, as Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had been briefed, and could now bear witness to, had nine massive bronze gates while the inner wall had six.

A hundred bells tolled (pealed resonated, boomed, rang), as they neared the famous Kigo Bridge, greeting their ears with musical harmony; bells chimed at their regular intervals to mark the time of day from their location in the central square, where all streets within the city inevitably converged.

Two main arteries to Channing throbbed with fretful vitality when nearing dusk, Nevetsecnuac, Zunrogo and Tizan had merged with the hastening crowd, most anxious to cross one of the two bridges that led into the inner core of the city through the Zier Gate.  A short while later and the massive, bronze gates would be closed (barring) banning any entry until sunrise; three hours later a curfew would be imposed until sunrise.  If they failed in their objective, as violators, they would be subjected to, without exception, the most extreme penalty of slow, torturous death.  Fortunately for their party, the Lieutenant in charge of Zier Gate was on friendly terms with Zunrogo and spared them the grueling scrutiny the others were subjected to.

 

01-lLIEUTENANT IN CHARGE OF ZIER GATE

"Their papers are all in order, let them pass."  His resounding (loud, booming) order rippled through the ranks of guards and gave Captain Zunrogo and co. prompt easy access through the set of barricades which had been put in place since the last time Zunrogo had been to the Capital.  Declining the offer of a state carriage, they remained mounted on their horses as they joined in the swift, steady stream of traffic that flowed through the streets to their destination.

Channing, now the den of jackals, wolves, and tigers, more than sixteen miles in diameter and 62 miles around, this crowning jewel of the nation boasted in its middle city several dozen large, well-maintained streets and several hundred small alleys, which perpetually be thronged with people and rich carriages.

At the central core (of Channing), perpetuating the strength and enlightenment of Wenjenkun, stood the Military Academy, the Civil Universities, a multitude of monasteries and temples with turquoise tiles and crimson roofs.  Most had been constructed during the previous rule of the benevolent Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir and now, after a lengthy closure and violent purges, they had modified their ideologies sufficiently enough to be considered fit for reinstatement by the present regime, with of course, limited potency (might and influence), of their former years of glory.

 The glistening green artery of the Yawjun River flowed through the center of the city, measuring five miles from bank to bank at its widest.  Picturesque vessels of all sizes and designs in an ongoing, steady stream contested with all their speed for the much coveted and privileged dock space.

Even at this quick pace, Nevetsecnuac's eyes feasted on the festooned splendors of the magnificent Inner City.  Shops were laden with the rafters with exotic merchandise.  Imposing, many storied buildings of all shapes lined the main thoroughfare and beyond.  Gilded and brightly lit pavilions in elaborate architectural styles, bustling Pleasure Houses adorned with Heavenly Beauties beckoned the distinguished guests to their bosoms and a multitude of well-established tea houses catered to a discerning and demanding clientele.  Cultural institutions throbbed with the discussions of the arrogant elite.

A pervasive picture of opulence and a thriving economy could easily have overwhelmed any newcomer to the city, enticing him into abandoning all reserve; all moral principles save for those the city itself dictated and are forever enslaved in this irresistible, gilded cage.

Everything here was most assuredly divorced from the harsh daily realities the rest of the country endured.  Indeed, as the authorities had planned (intended), this artificial world encapsulating the visitor would leave no doubt in his mind about the opulent strength of the economy and he would continue being duped, convinced that if Channing was at the zenith of its power and wealth then the remainder of Wenjenkun also enjoyed the same conditions.

 

02- NEVETSECNUAC IN CAPITAL (4)JP

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac), having travelled (ridden) the far corners of the Empire, knew the difference and shook his head in disdain and disbelief.  How the rest of the populace suffered intolerable conditions, endured terrible ordeals in-order-to furnish Channing with this excessive abundance!

 Fradel Rurik Korvald ‘s (Nevetsecnuac’s) face became increasingly grim as another level (layer) of this reality crept in.  On the surface this well-mannered bustling populace, with their rich silk brocade robes, their neatly trimmed and decorated head and facial hair, their fine carriages restricted to one side of the road and their lips frozen in mechanical smiles, presented the very picture of contentment and tranquility.

Yet Fradel’s keen senses penetrated this impressive facade, alerting him to the reality that this unnatural, perfectly regimented order laid atop an unseen, eerie atmosphere of fear and oppression that lurked just barely beneath the surface.

Suddenly a shrill whistling pierced the clamor.  Instantly the crowd mechanically peeled into two streams, drew close to the buildings, and halted abruptly. 

On Zunrogo’s sharp command, Tizan and the Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald dismounted at once and joined the rest at the side of the road.

Within seconds the thundering hooves were upon them.  A wave of fear rippled through the comatose citizens as they lowered their heads, turned away or cast their eyes to the ground.  Only scholar Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) eyes were defiantly lifted to see the charging contingent pass at a gallop, led by a fearsome warrior on a magnificent white stallion.  In the brief instant when their eyes met, the warrior's cold, cruel, predatory gaze pierced through Nevetsecnuac's unflinching stare to the core of his being.

 

03- EGIL VIGGORIES 5 -JP

 A disturbing thought at that point in time had barely formed in his consciousness, “He looks so much like a young… No!  That's not possible!”  Nevetsecnuac shook his head to dismiss this deplorable speculation as his eyes trailed the receding horsemen.

 

"He's on a hunt!" Tizan's icy contempt snapped Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) out of his daze, and he turned his sharp, questioning eyes to the Lieutenant.  Tizan had uttered these indiscriminate words seemingly without fear or, at least, care.

 Boldly, too boldly in fact, he continued, "That Imperial edict he's carrying can only mean…” His words were frozen on his tongue by a stern look from Zunrogo.  Stymied, he grumbled under his breath then bared his teeth in a savage grimace to cast a threatening look around him.  This implicit threat was enough to scatter those few pedestrians that had lingered briefly on the spot to silently admonish Tizan for this apparent foolishness.

 "A flock of sheep, all of you," Tizan snorted contemptuously and swung into the saddle in one swift leap.

Zunrogo turned to Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) and grimaced wryly, anticipating the question.  "Now you've seen His Excellency Egil Viggoaries, remember him.  You would do well to be wary of him; better still, if possible, avoid any contact (interaction) or confrontation with his excellency."  With a sardonic smile, thinking, “he delights most in feasting on virtuous, attractive (, striking, handsome, desirable) insects like you”, he mounted his horse and spurred the beast on ahead.

 

The road they were on eventually converged with the others at the central square.  As they passed the gibbet in the center, Nevetsecnuac's eyes were riveted to the wretched corpse hanging headless from a pole that jutted from the raised platform.  At the side a crimson plaque was erected, stating in white letters the name and crime of the offender.  Around the corpse, in a bizarrely grotesque dance, a small crowd was endlessly circling, spitting, jabbing, and poking at the body in an almost orchestrated manner.  Occasionally one would furtively glance about, as if this performance was undertaken to assert his loyalty for the benefit of hidden, spying eyes.

At first glance the head of the corpse seemed to have been savagely; brutally bitten off but on closer scrutiny, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) noted that it had, in fact, disintegrated at the neck as if some corrosive substance had eaten through the flesh and bone.  The rest of the corpse’s torso had been charred over three quarters of its surface and the part below the waist was slowly being mutilated, beyond human recognition, by the crowd.

Suddenly a shiver rippled through Fradel Rurik Korvald’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) chest as his eyes were riveted to a single lock of bloodied, shriveled red hair on the nape.

“It’s inconceivable.  Had this been his fate?  Had he… No!  He could not have been so easily overcome, not him.”  With an effort of will Nevetsecnuac dispelled the traces of suspicion that lurked in the depths of his heart before they took root, supplanting it with strong, unequivocal denial.

 A moment later, the gnawing feeling re-emerged in the pit of his stomach, “Could it be that this Dwengzur was that competent?”  His eyes were still glued to the corpse, Nevetsecnuac involuntarily tugged at the reins, causing the beast he was riding to rear abruptly.

Zunrogo looked dubiously at Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) but said nothing, but Tizan could not let the opportunity to goad the scholar slip by.

"A friend of yours?" he asked coldly as he pulled up alongside Fradel’s horse.

Ignoring this needling, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) turned to read the notice.

Midway to, it stated that this assassin was an enemy of the state who had come to Wenjenkun as an emissary from Kontu… Kontu, not Korion!  Nevetsecnuac breathed a deep sigh of relief but then quite unbidden; other’s cryptic words came to mind,

"Even if I fail, I shall not fail." 

Nevetsecnuac’s (Fradel’s) heart once more became laden with the same doubts, the same suppositions until, biting his lip, he resolved to, at the first opportunity, make discrete inquiries and resolve this puzzle, one way or another.

 

04- ZUNROGO TUGO - JP 21 B

Zunrogo had reined in his horse and, inclining his head as if to check the bridle, observed scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald ‘s (Nevetsecnuac's) quandary from the corner of his eye.  Since Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had made no attempt to hide his concern, Zunrogo disdainfully scoffed and wheeled his horse about.  The scholar's mood had always perplexed him, but other concerns now preyed more heavily on his mind.  He let the matter drop, making no attempt whatsoever to straighten Tizan out. 

 

“Besides,” he told himself, “It won't be long now before I'm relieved of this annoying obligation.”

As it were, from the moment Zunrogo relinquished the care of the scholar to another, Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) would cease to exist for him.  With his farsightedness Zunrogo had already surmised that there would be little advantage in ingratiating himself with the illustrious Fradel.  In fact, he speculated that the scholar's immanent downfall would come in the not-too-distant future.  Already the fashionable trend of the day towards the literati was starting to shift in the direction for, it’s inevitable decline.

Tizan, meanwhile, had erroneously attributed Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) mood to weakness, assuming that the scholar's delicate constitution had obviously been ruffled, shaken to the core by the gruesome realities of life.  Not bothering to conceal his scornful contempt, he had steered his mount alongside Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's), mumbling jibes (taunts), as they both caught up to Zunrogo then, proceeded to blend in (merge with) the other stream of traffic that led to an alternate road away from the square.

Tizan grimaced maliciously as he threw sidelong glances, knowing that Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) would be witnessing far worse sights in the days to come.  “Either you will grow accustomed to these common sights, or you’ll fall gravely ill and, perhaps, die.”  Tizan contemptuously laughed.

 

05--TZAN JP

“That’s right, Channing will either toughen you up or devour you whole, smarty-pants.”  Even as he thought this, Tizan knew what the outcome would be.  “Ha!  Go back while you can, pathetic fool.  Your fine looks, your honeyed, intellectual jargon will not win you any merit (credence or weight) here.  They will not keep you from harm; sooner or later you will succumb to the dangers and perish as all your kind should.  If you had any lick of sense, you would feign sudden illness and flee, as soon and as fast, all the way back to that safe mountain retreat and bury your head in your manuscripts, for only the strongest, the shrewdest, the most cunning survive here.”

Of course, Nevetsecnuac’s ears had incessantly burned with all that unspoken hostility from Tizan; however, as it would hardly be worth his while to challenge or lecture this illiterate brute; besides which, Tizan’s presumed crude estimation being somewhat palpable (blatant) truth, Nevetsecnuac had kept his quiet.

 

Nevetsecnuac, meanwhile, had comprehended far more than he let on; he’d recognized for instance, how in Channing, competition was fierce, mercy and compassion was an unknown, unpracticed, and altogether dangerous precept.  He knew also, and could rightly attest to now, how alongside most prevalent punishments another, more sinister, harsher reality lurked. One that had been a routine policy in Channing, for well over a decade, to systematically uncover and eradicate all undesirable and imperfect elements and citizens.  Anyone who’d been deemed unpleasant to the eyes or senses of the ruling elite, had been, without mercy, hounded to extinction; scores cruelly tortured as part of night's entertainment and some driven out or eliminated entirely, by the ruthless invisible force that manned the society (populace) of Metropolis.

The rare anomaly (variance), those few less than perfect opulent residents, by dispensing bribes and staying well hidden, had subsisted through this dicey, hazardous existence (way of life) in Channing. 

 

 

                                                                                  ~

 

 

(END OF SECTION 1)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 37

The passenger official, Ceroz Agripe had tried his utmost to keep his beloved wife alive, but her injuries being so grave, she did not live long.  After her (hastily improvised) impromptu funeral where her corpse also ended up in the river, the official Ceroz Agripe had remained in deep mourning and mostly sequestered in his cabin. He was naturally devastated and from then on incessantly mourned her loss. In his bereavement he ceased all communication and activity, as well, frequently refused any intake of sustenance (provisions, nourishment).

 

01- TORMENTED CEROS AGRIPE

He did not appear idle, rather, seemed to be contemplating something dire; meanwhile, he’d remained always in bad temper and often lashed out at the crew members, or whoever called on him. Ceroz’s angst (dread) and mounting heartache, meanwhile, had raised no alarms, as there were ample other more pertinent concerns and great deal still to do on aboard.

The infant’s death was attributed to crib-death, a common occurrence at that time, which often befell (occurred), one in every four babies. 

The official Luvet, despite Zunrogo's assurances, had also chosen most of the time to remain isolated (quarantined) in his cabin.  He had never had any dealings with Ceroz Agripe, yet at his wife Disaidun Agripe’s funeral, his blatant (unconcealed) hostility towards him, his intense (penetrating), fiery (blazing) antagonistic gaze (eyes), had both mystified and greatly alarmed official Luvet.  He’d subtly questioned Captain Zunrogo’s Lieutenant Tzan about this matter, but Lieutenant’s response had been less than satisfactory; moreover, his not so subtle, cryptic words had thence (thereafter) hunted Luvet’s peace. He could not shake the feeling that he’d somewhat been set up (accused, blamed for something he didn’t do) and ominously, a cruel, ignominious fate had awaited him. But how could he escape this impending catastrophe when he was constrained as passenger in a fair size vessel (craft, boat) temporarily stymied (because of necessary repairs) in the center of the vast expansive river, with the shoreline barely visible. He was not a competent swimmer and there was no small dinghy (dory, rowboat) on this cursed ship.  

 

Last few nights, burdened with deep concerns, Luvet had hardly touched his supper but drunk heavily to ease his mounting trepidation (fear, anxiety). Pacing back and forth across the room, he stayed up most of the evenings contemplating a plausible plan to ward off this impending disaster.  He could not shake the terrible foreboding in the crux of his being, that if not now, in matter of days, even if he succeeded in evading (escaping) the grave, lurking peril (danger, hazard, risk), his life would still be forfeited.

 

02- LUVET

                                                                 Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, meanwhile, from the very start, had refused to be sequestered in his cabin; not wishing to remain idle, he’d instead, had done his bit in expediting the mending of the ship.

Under Tizan's competent supervision, in no time at all the vessel had been made sail-worthy; hence, the fourth day at dawn, taking full advantage of the sudden rise of a north wind, they’d charted a course over the wide river that would bring them at a swift pace into the port city of Hanbrak, the river port immediately before the Capital city of Channing.

Once they had docked, Zunrogo and company were to precede post haste from then on, on horseback, to the Capital.

                                                                                  ~

 

Midway to reaching the port city of Hanbrak, no one other than Zunrogo, had anticipated the sudden and unexpected tragic turn of events.

In the dead of night, as all the other tired souls, including Fradel Rurik Korvald clutched their pillows in deep slumber; Ceroz Agripe suddenly snapping out of one of his catatonic (inert, withdrawn) states, had sat bolt upright and guardedly looked about him.

With wild gleam in his black pupils, he quietly rose from his bed and went over to pick up his sleeping baby. But the crib was empty, his precious Tait was not there, he’d gone missing!

Suddenly his memory served him a faint recollection, how in his anguished state, before the battle on board had started, trying to quieten the bawling (wailing) infant, he had pressed his precious boy to his chest and, tragically, smothered (suffocated) him.

“But when did they take him away? Where was Tait now?”

His mind once more becoming unhinged, his memory fogged, and he felt suddenly confused. He looked down at the empty crib, “There you are,” this time he clearly saw his precious boy Tait fast asleep.

03- BABY IN CRIB

Smiling, he gingerly picked up the small pillow, which he’d often used to protect the baby from the edge, his arms swaddling (enveloping) it, he held the precious cargo close to his chest.  Suddenly the baby was awakened and began to squeal.

“There, don’t cry Tait… Mommy will be here soon.” He gently rocked the bundle in his arms till the baby was quiet.

Bending his head, he gently kissed Tait’s forehead. His beautiful son seemed to be smiling at him. “Oh, you are such a good boy” He blew him another string of kisses.

Again, confusion set in, but just as quickly it went away; his mind was much clearer now, suddenly he knew what he must do.  Going over, he edged out the door of the cabin and locked it behind him.

 

Once in the dimly lit corridor, hugging the walls, he inaudibly crept two doors down to Luvet's cabin and quietly slipped inside.  Three paces into the room he stopped.  With the mad fire burning in his eyes, he quickly surveyed the immediate surroundings: his eyes momentarily rested on the table which was cluttered with dishes, food left uneaten, but there was the  discarded  wine stained cup, the empty wine jar tipped on its side; then he observed the stack of documents on the night table and the flickering oil lamp teetering dangerously over the edge; finally,  his gaze came to rest on the sleeping official.

Ceroz Agripe’s pulse again raced as the shiver of fuming rage and seething contempt rippled through him.

 

Gingerly, as if wary of waking his infant son from sleep, Ceroz put the precious bundle down in the plush, oversize chair in corner and, reaching into his left pocket, retrieved a long, red, silk cord.

 This crimson silk cord had been his former wife's favorite fashion accessory.  He took a shuddering breath as his gaze rested on it, recalling the multitude of purposes she had put it to.  Now it would serve a new purpose.

 He caressed it lovingly, touching it to his cheek, then to his pallid lips.  The lingering perfume it held misted his eyes with the memories it evoked, and he moaned softly in pain and dropped his head.

Abruptly anew the ire erupted in his chest, and he clenched the cord taut with indignation and bile until his knuckles whitened and cracked.

Just then Luvet stirred in his deep slumber, uttered some incomprehensible phrase, and then turned onto his side.  Ceroz was rooted to the spot, holding his breath as he considered his recourse should be the cursed official awake now and catch on to his presence in the room! 

Then, however, a lugubrious, loud snoring resounded in the air.

“Vile cur; how dare you sleep without a care…  Death is too good for the likes of you!”

 A wave of sickness, disgust and anger washed over Ceroz Agripe as he gritted his teeth.

“Your flesh should be ripped (torn) into minute pieces and fed to the wild dogs!  I swear, even if it is the last thing I do, I will gauge-out your eyes and stuff them up to …. where they belong.  Your manhood and your black heart I shall trample underfoot.  I will make certain that you will never be born again in any condition to defile a good, virtuous woman!”  He spat; his anger barely contained as he shivered once more.

His body was rocked with an all-consuming-wrath, and he clenched his fists to steady his steps as he determinedly approached Luvet.

 He stopped at hairsbreadth away from the edge of the bed.  His nostrils dilated as he glowered at the official; before him lay an ordinary official with plain nose, ordinary beard and mustache and typical lips, nothing special at all.  In the dim light, Ceroz noted how his reddish hair was scraggly (disheveled) and few strands hung loose at the sides.  There was nothing remarkable about him, nothing that would betray to an onlooker in the least his vile, contemptible nature.  There was no trace of inhumanity which Ceroz could detect in that oblong, rather impassive (blank) face, yet this mangy dog Luvet was assuredly the lowest of the lowest.

Surging contempt consumed Ceroz as he felt the bile rise in him once more.

05- CEROS AGRIPE -GONE MAD

In the next instant the cord looped around Luvet's neck and tightened with such unusual force that it bit two inches into his neck.  The convulsions of the struggling body were kept under control only by the application of Ceroz's total weight upon the dying man.

When Luvet finally expired, Ceroz drew from his other pocket the knife his wife had given him as her instrument of revenge.

 In the next few minutes, he set off to work, fulfilling his promises of defacement to the letter.  When he was done, he discarded the knife onto the table and stepped back.

As if now reconciled with the dead official, Ceroz smiled and calmly walked over to the corner to pick up the baby once more.  Going above deck, he moved slowly and serenely, looking as if he was merely taking the infant out for some air.

 Before any of the watch could realize his intention and stop him, he simply stepped over the edge of the boat and disappeared instantly in the foam of the wake.

 

“Man overboard…Man overboard!” In dead of night, the warning sounded.

 

But the vessel, as ordered, kept on (with its speed) going.  They could not have rescued him anyhow, even if they were any such order.  Driven by the strong northern wind, the vessel was moving way too fast to stop or try turning back, without grave risk to all.

The gruesome sight of Luvet's mutilated corpse was discovered soon after.  Without exception, every member of this rugged crew was chilled to the bone.  Enough incrimination evidence was left behind to leave no question as to the murderer's identity.

The motive was framed variously in everyone's mind but most chalked it up to simple insanity induced by the tragic loss of his beloved wife Disaidun Agripe, his infant boy Tait and the recent events, such as the terror and violence of the battle.

 It was generally determined that, being weak in nature already, Official Ceroz Agripe had simply cracked under pressure.  A few, however, speculated that the mutilation stemmed from the settling of an old grudge (score).  Some guessed that it was a crime of passion, and that the wife must have had an illicit affair with the bureaucrat Luvet.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) suspected that Zunrogo was somehow at the root of it all and despised him even more for it.  However, he had nothing solid on which to base his suspicions (allegations), therefore he buried his resentment and concentrated on the serious concerns that lay ahead of him once they reached the Capital.

06- TZAN JP

 Tzan, by piecing together the snippets of information and what he’d astutely observed, in the end discerned the true probable cause.   Tizan absently nodded as he wrapped up the pieces of the official's corpse; then with a sinister grin, he covertly eyed Zunrogo, telling himself to never ever for an instant let his guard down, to never underestimate (take too lightly) the captain’s capacity for ruthlessness, or misjudge in future Zunrogo’s devious powers of manipulation.

                                                                                        ~

 

               (END OF SECTION 37- END OF BOOK 8 – ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL)

 

(LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC EPIC STORY CONTINUES IN BOOK 9- THE CAPITAL CHANNING)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 36

 

 

"Good girl!"  Zunrogo exclaimed in pleasure as he noted the mountain of bodies piled up before the still standing barricade.  The few who still showed signs of life were quickly disposed of then moved aside to clear a path to the blockage.

Disaidun Agripe (Ms. Jepipi) had been as good as her word, more than several dozen lives had been snuffed out by her excellent marksmanship; however, her lack of response to Zunrogo's call at present gave rise to silent speculation.

“Maybe she’s already done me the favor.” Zunrogo mused.

 

01- ZUNROGO TUGO- JP  19

Zunrogo glancing at the heaps of dead men, suddenly however noticed, another irregularity. Many more of the assailants had been cut down by a sword. These mangled and hacked down men were attacked by an expert swordsman or swordsmen.

“Oh, no!” A sudden alarm gripped Zunrogo’s heart, and he shouted at Tizan to help him clear the way quickly, for he needed to get to Disaidun at once.  Soon as they had a viable path (gap,), Zunrogo swiftly advanced through the narrow strip, while Tizan up ahead, continued diligently to widen the course.  Once through to the other side, Zunrogo knelt beside unresponsive Disaidun Agripe who sat with her head and back (leaned) slumped against the wall and quickly checked her pulse.  He was not entirely concerned about the state of her condition; however, first and foremost, he needed to know if the letter was still there. He shook his head to purge slight reminiscences of his last intimate encounter with her, then fixing his attention on the part of her bodice where she had concealed the letter, his hand quickly reached beneath, to promptly retrieve it and secured it underneath his armor.

Tizan’s curious, though somewhat licentious (profligate, wicked) gaze was met by the captain’s hardhearted and cruel smirk. Tizan swiftly turned his slightly reddened face away to conceal (hide) his dubious and racy thoughts.  “So, the captain’s prior, impious relation with her, his supposed foible, carried the purpose other than carnal (sensual) indulgence (desire, need).  As there is no room for mistakes in this detachment, I should have been more astute.”  

 

Zunrogo meanwhile, was beset with some unsettling facts that had suddenly invaded his brain and needed clarification. “Decidedly she’d been overwhelmed from behind; was this carnage result of the suspected, but never uncovered, covert Black Moloch infiltrator on board? Was he still on board; for clearly, he hadn’t retrieved what he must have been assigned to do? What scared him off? Later, in private and away from Tzan’s prying eyes, he must examine the letter more (closely) carefully. “

Zunrogo’s quiet reflections suddenly ceased (halted, stayed), when she slightly stirred and at the same time, a faint groan emanated from her throat. Though her pulse was faint and her breathing shallow, a brief scrutiny revealed that she had sustained grave injuries to her head, her shoulder and left arm, as well deep cuts and scrapes here and there; therefore, as much as he’d liked to, Zunrogo could not bring her around to a sensible state, to inquisition her. True enough, she was at death’s door; however, even if she lasted long enough, still, it would take no small miracle for her to regain her faculties and in her poor state, even if she’d regained consciousness, she would still not be cognitive enough to satisfactorily answer his imminent queries, luxury of time he did not have.

For a second Zunrogo’s suspicions fell on Tzan.  “No,” He quickly dismissed that thought. Tzan had fought valiantly by his side and besides, wasn’t Tzan totally passed out, unconscious when Zunrogo regained consciousness.

Tzan had all this time, with his back to Zunrogo, continued with his dismantling the barricade.

As he labored Tzan grimaced coldly.  “Wonder what it was he took from her? …. Still, in all these years under his command, never once have I seen him do anything without a sinister reason or an underlying dark motive.  I wonder what’s really at stake here?”

 

02- 11-TZAN JP

Proceeding with methodical efficiency, Tzan had, in no time at all, disengaged (severed, disarmed) remaining, pertinent, lethal traps and cleared away the key barriers.  The rest Tzan was told, could later be safely handled by the crew, after they are released from their locked cabins.  This measure of keeping the crew safe had been deemed necessary, for they were essential in manning the vessel of this size.

 

 Tzan was about to go upstairs to first, finish disposing of the corpses into the river, when he was just then called to Zunrogo’ side. 

"She's not dead." the captain announced coldly, indicating Disaidun Agripe (Ms. Jepipi).

 "Take her body to her cabin and let her husband deal with her last-minute rites.”

Tzan, leaning over her warm body, understood her grave state of health at once and looked at askance (sideways, suspiciously) at Zunrogo.  “He is not known for showing least amount of mercy to anyone who’s outlived their usefulness; unless… she still has some benefit (consequence) to be utilized… hmm?”  But Tzan shifted his body with unease as he was once more mired (puzzled, stumped) by Zunrogo’s enigmatic mind, unable to phantom the captain’s decidedly sinister, future objective.

Only few hours prior, she’d been so full of life; now she was barely alive, what further use was she to Zunrogo?  Tzan could not help feeling a small measure of sadness for her short-lived ecstasy.  Zunrogo, contrastingly, with not a shred of sympathy or remorse, was already headed down the hall.

 

The time it took for Tzan to pick up the pliant body of Disaidun Agripe, Zunrogo was fast unlocking the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald's door. Fradel emerged just in time to see Tzan, with her limp, broken body draped over his shoulder, going down the hall towards her cabin.

The scholar's inquisitive (questioning) gaze constrained Zunrogo to give a brief account of her involvement in the struggle: how she, being an accomplished archer, had offered her services and how, despite his own reservations, he had engaged (utilized) her abilities to safeguard the rest of the passengers, including Fradel.  He curtly (briskly) praised Disaidun Agripe’s courage and skill, noting how she had claimed few dozen lives before she, herself, had tragically been injured beyond recovery (saving); hence, she’d been allowed this precious remaining time to be spent saying farewells to her husband and child.

"There’s really no way she can be saved?" Zunrogo shook his head and gestured to sternly cut off Fradel's anticipated next inquiry.  "Pity, all the courage she has shown is totally lacking in Official Ceros Agripe.” Zunrogo derisively (sarcastically) snorted and looked away. “Let him come to terms with this new reality and then grieve for his impending loss in private; besides, the last thing we need now is the complications from a hysterical husband.  The rest, including the official Luvet and the crew, will be appraised of the near miss peril they’d been spared, all in good time, well after all the corpses are made fish meal.” 

“Meanwhile, for their sake and for ours, the less they know the better." Zunrogo impatiently then added that he’d taken this ill-afford time, out of courtesy to Fradel, to appraise him of the facts.  Now that the danger had passed, all that remained was the cleanup. He next went on to say, as a matter-of-factly, how to prevent pestilence, in the aftermath (result) of the deadly fray (fight, skirmish, battle), it had been deemed necessary to immediately dispose of all the corpses, into the cold, watery grave.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reluctantly concurred with this hardhearted, but sound decision, then solemnly offered his assistance, where warranted.

 

03- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC) OFFERS ASSISTANCE (6)

“Kind of you to proffer (volunteer),” Zunrogo curtly refused his help, saying that the only task remained then, was still too gruesome and taxing, for one with Scholar’s delicate sensibilities and fragile constitution. There was no malice in his tone, just fact, so Fradel let this affront (insult) go.

Fradel was asked instead to, for a little while longer, remain in his cabin, until all the unpleasantness, in other words, all telltale signs of skirmish on deck, had been thoroughly cleared.

Zunrogo had another reason for keeping the meddlesome scholar away from the scene of the battle. He was certain, there were no survivors left above deck, however, perchance there were some, Fradel, with his moral rectitude, would be gallingly adamant for the wounded to be properly (cared for) tended; this contrasting with Zunrogo’s deemed sound judgement of, finishing them off and then swiftly discarding all the corpses into the watery grave, to prevent  any possibility of unforeseen, future complications.

By the time Zunrogo caught up with his Lieutenant, Tzan having already delivered the barely alive Disaidun Agripe to the care of her hysterical husband, at present his mind totally engaged with his work, was in the process of routinely adding weights to the neck and feet of last (group) batch of tied up corpses, before they too, unceremoniously were dumped (discarded) overboard into the river.

 

04- CHURNING WATERS OF THE RIVER

Tzan mopped his forehead off perspiration with the back of his hand then stood back to check and admire his clever workmanship.  Seeing that there was a slight movement, a twitch, a flicker of life, in one of the presumed dead, he quickly lifted the bound (roped, fastened, trussed) bundle and carried it to the railing then tilted it overboard.

 " Enjoy your long, blissful sleep at the bottom of the river." he hissed with venomous sneer, as he watched it sink into oblivion beneath the waves. When he turned, he was startled to find Zunrogo standing right behind him.

"Was that the last of it?" Zunrogo asked Tzan, with an unreadable expression on his face.  Receiving Tzan's nod of affirmation, he grunted cooly. "Good work."  Then he simply turned and walked away. 

“Well, Lance Diostin, despite your invincible prowess, you are now, indisputably dead and gone; and perhaps if you are lucky, your vestige (trace, hint) of brilliant exploits will be written onto the pages of history.” Zunrogo musing, scoffed (derided) then exhaled slowly the long, tense breath, which he’d been unwittingly (unawares) holding.

 

                                                                                     ~

 

Shortly after dusk the deckhands were let out to scrub the gore from the decks and mend those parts of the ship that had suffered in the attack.  For most of the night the crew slaved away not daring to make any suppositions or ask any questions about the day's events.

To a man, however, they were in unison with their intention, to abandon this cursed vessel and vanish into oblivion the very moment they docked at the next port. For they all had their own secret reasons for not wanting to undergo, the inevitably lengthy and grueling investigation and consequently, the impending penalties.

 

                                                                                       ~

 

Subsequent days, while the top deck buzzed with a flurry of activity, silence reigned in the cabins below.

Soon as Zunrogo could get away, he had stolen into his cabin to quietly inspect the letter. Noticing right from the start some oddities about the sheath, his face darkened, and deep frown set in. He did not wish to tamper with it any further, but was convinced nevertheless, that the contents within would most definitely be fake, which meant that the actual letter was in possession of that covert Black Moloch’s agent.

“Is he still on board?” Zunrogo wondered “or had he clear gotten away. “ 

In any case, this setback put him in a real bad mood, which would last several days.

Eventually he did, very carefully, bypassing the deathly traps and poisonous dart, removed the fake inside letter and unfolding it, quickly perused the contents. What he read infuriated him still more, knowing if he had in ignorance delivered the letter to the Prime Minister, it would have brought about his immediate, ignoble (dishonorable, dastardly) death.  In his rage he promptly fed the letter along with its covering to the hungry flames in the brazier.

Later still, Zunrogo keen on discovering the particulars and whereabouts of this presumed Black Moloch spy, his tireless efforts, and astute observances, had eventually revealed to him the presumed identity of the culprit. He’d been one of the crewmen, one called Zack, most probably a pseudo name; what’s more, after the battle, he had mysteriously (gone missing) disappeared without a trace, never to been seen or heard from again. Yet, this had not alarmed anyone, including him?

 

05- CREWMAN ZACK - A BLACK MOLOCK SPY ON BOARD BOAT

Zunrogo now faintly remembered how on the day they’d boarded the vessel, his keen eye had (caught) noted the exceptional physique of this particular crewman; nevertheless, in the aftermath Zunrogo had been so completely taken in by Zack’s assumed ordinary demeanor. This infuriated Zunrogo, subsequently, his ire (indignation), his fiery temper had rained misery on all, especially since Zunrogo, upon further reflecting, became acutely aware of his own (failing) prior oversight, resulting in his sorely missing the certain oddities that should have alerted his senses.

After further thorough search of the vessel and questioning at length the other crewmen and Tzan, Zunrogo’s suspicions were affirmed; that Zack, had not been among the discarded corpses, which meant that, he’d had clear gotten away along with the actual extortion letter! Be that as it may, the vessel charting a ceaseless course in the center of this fast flowing, wide river with barely visible shorelines, however a good swimmer, could Zack still have defied all the odds?

 

 

                                                                                     ~

 

(END OF SECTION 36)