THE STATE OF THINGS- SECTION 1

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 1

 

It seemed as if an immeasurable time had passed, since Nevetsecnuac had forged ahead towards Lord Shonne Gulbrand's province that lay on route to the Capital. 

All through his travels and encounters Nevetsecnuac noted the prevailing and encompassing currents of fear and despair that emanated from the perpetual clampdown on the population.  It was heart wrenching to observe the already ravaged individuals striving to survive under the tyrannical rule of the oppressive bureaucrats and their minions, who imposed impossibly burdensome taxes, conscript labor and military service on all.

 What was worse was the disheartening lack of backbone, never mind the least hope for a spark of rebellion or the smallest inkling of any insurgency rising from the piled ashes of these enslaved masses. 

The option of capitulating, however, was not in Nevetsecnuac’s vocabulary…. And could not be so! Resolutely therefore Nevetsecnuac had consoled himself through it all, reflecting on the indomitable spirit of the Wenjenkun nation and the invincible fabric that had once forged this great nation, hoping against hope that it will do so yet again under the right circumstance and leadership, perhaps in five if not in eight year’s time.

                                                                            ~

Alas, Heng Erling, by his action of luring Nevetsecnuac prematurely from his safe mountain abode had irrevocably altered the course of Wenjenkun’s History.

                                                                              ~

It so happens that bad weather particularly downpours have their own surprising advantages. One of which is, when torrential rains ruthlessly pelt the inhabitants no one, including heavily armed guards manning the gates at border provinces, be in any mood to be fastidious or vigilant.  And so, on such a dismal afternoon, Nevetsecnuac properly disguised, blended right in with a returning group of merchants and their servants leading their heavily laden carts with varied goods, passing right through, without least trouble, the first two checkpoints.

The long caravan (Nevetsecnuec was in) later still halted before the iron gates and waited for the prompt dispensing of the customary bribe by the group’s leader before passing unimpeded this and the final checkpoint and entered the territory of Gulbrand province.  As dusk was quickly approaching, the group picked up momentum and hastened along the dirt road towards the nearest habitation.

Nevetsecnuac inconspicuously separating (at this point) from the pack, arrived at a modest inn at the outskirts of the village. Checking into a room and ordering simple fare, he made discreet inquiries about the state of affairs in Moulon.

The fact that Gulbrand’s name was shunned, however, confirmed Nevetsecnuac’s worst fears about the Lord’s fate. To his added dismay he learned that the province’s current ruling tyrant bore the name Shouzi Yozdek.

On the third day there was finally a welcome reprieve from the persistent deluge.  Settling his account, Nevetsecnuac quickly retrieved his horse from the stables and led him by the reins to negotiate the winding, narrow gravel path that eventually led to the outlying fields. The mid-day sun’s golden rays, streaming from the cerulean sky free of any clouds, now bathed the fields with the last remnants of a harvest resting in haystacks.  It should have been a heartwarming scene but here as well, Nevetsecnuac noted the bitter oppression that seemed permanently etched on the solemn, miserable faces of the peasants bending over toiling the land which they will do from sunup to sunset. 

A few days later when Nevetsecnuac, riding his horse rounded an extended hill, he observed in a vast clearing the most surprising scene. There in the distance was a most extraordinary, fortified, affluent border town, with high, gleaming golden towers and imposing tall gates. Access to it could only be gained through a drawbridge constructed over a deep moat.  Though reason told him to bypass this provincial town, something else compelled him to urge his horse towards it.  Perhaps it was a sense of justice and duty that compelled him to find out the fate of Lord Shonne Gulbrand or at least determine where the Lord's remains now rested so that he could pay his final respects and offer sacrifices and prayers to the benevolent Lord's soul.

Eventually the narrow path he was following converged with other better traveled roads to become a major highway leading to the hub.  Just on the outskirts of the town however, before reaching the moat, some roads veered towards several inns of various sizes that were nestled in a sparsely wooded area.  From these establishments lively sounds and appetizing aromas assailed the travelers' ears and noses, inviting them inside. 

Unlike so many of his counterparts, Nevetsecnuac chose a respectable one, rented a room and entrusted his horse to the custody of the stable hands.  Foregoing his meal in his eager anticipation, he then left the premises on foot and blended in with the crowd streaming into the town through the eastern gate just before dusk. 

This being the Day of the Spirits, he found most of the streets thronging with people and carriages.  The clamor of their voices mingled with the din of the procession.  Locals, clothed in their brightly colored garments, carrying lamps and offerings to their dead were flooding into the temples, lit up like day, where invocations and prayers were being offered.

Trying to be inconspicuous, Nevetsecnuac moved to one of the less crowded temples to pay his respects to the dead.  Dispensing money in a bowl, he took some candles and offerings and placed them on the altar of the God of the underworld, Yaskur.  Kneeling, he then prayed for the souls of those long departed.

Suddenly his prayers were rudely interrupted by a rowdy bunch of eight provincial constables.  Disregarding the sanctity of the place, they had burst into the large hall and, in their inebriated state, surrounded a local merchant and began rising wild pandemonium.  The bullied merchant, trembling on his knees, with pearls of perspiration dripping from his forehead, pleaded his case as to why he was late with his promised bribe and offered to make amends to them.

"Too late for that now.” one scoffed, glowering at the poor, petrified merchant who was in the throes of explaining circumstances that had prevented the prompt delivery.

"How would it look if we made an exception?" The brute constable pinned his venomous eyes on the merchant and gnashed his teeth.

"Your crime is unpardonable!" a third bellowed, pushing his way to the front.  "Imagine, trying to hide in here!"

"Bind him.  You should be taught a lesson.” The group's leader (standing apart from the group) icily ejected his command.

"Have mercy!” the old shopkeeper pleaded with his throat constricting, shedding tears.  "This is the Night of the Spirits!  You know my word is good.  I will deliver as I’ve promised.  I will even surpass the difference; consider it a bonus for the trouble I've caused!  Honest, I wasn't going to run away!  I really, really lack the means now.  Just give me one more day…."  A furious slap just then across the merchant’s face silenced the old man.

"Shut up, squealing pig!  We've already been to your house." The deputy grabbed the merchant by the hair next, and spit into his face.

When the old priest rushed to intervene, he was shoved back so violently that he flew across the room, crashing into the far corner.

Biting his lip, Nevetsecnuac rushed to help the bruised and dizzy priest to his feet.  "Are you all right, Venerable Sir?” he whispered. 

“I’m all right, only my pride is bruised” The old priest nodded then casting a cautionary look at the other priests congregating in opposite corner. He shook his head as if to say to them, “Stay out of this and do nothing”. In response they lowered their heads and averted all eyes as they remained woodenly livid with a flush of crimson gradually overtaking their sallow cheeks.

Nevetsecnuac’s disciplined mind going against his innate response had also quickly checked his own outrage for it would not do for him, particularly at this juncture, to draw unwarranted attention by interfering.

The locals in the hall meanwhile had remained huddled together with ghostly faces and trembling in fear.  The one or two defiant young souls that strove to escape this dangerous circumstance drew instead the wrath of the irate constables.  In mid flight both were tripped, fell then were violently kicked and roundly abused. Bloodied and bruised they crawled to the safety of a dark corner.               

Another of the stout constables in the interim had taken up post in front of the door barring any possible exit. He now hollered to command attention, "No one is allowed to leave here 'till we're done.  You are all witnesses to his crime.” He pointed at the bloodied merchant that was still pinned down.   “Does he, or does he not deserve the severe hand of the law, I say a beating he’s received is not good enough!”

A forced murmur of assent reverberated in the temple, and the large hall seemed suddenly, suffocating, and small.

Nevetsecnuac's face flushed.  Unable to bear it any longer, he was about to step forward to give challenge when he felt his vest being tugged, holding him back.

Turning, he saw an elderly beggar in tattered, patched clothes flashing him a warning look from a face scored with wrinkles and scars.  Half hidden in the shadows, he whispered, "Don't be a fool!” in a pressing tone.

 Just then, another ten constables swarmed in, creating a greater panic in the temple.  The poor merchant was dragged outside, kicking and squealing like a pig being taken to the slaughterhouse.

"He's done for.", exclaimed a trembling voice beside Nevetsecnuac.

"We won't see him alive again, poor soul!” the distraught priest mournfully added as he walked away to join his fellows.

No sooner had the swarm of constables gone than the crowd in the temple hall, forsaking their purpose for being there, jostled to the door and disappeared in a flash.  The sounds outside grew quickly muted and then silence prevailed.

"What was his great crime?” Nevetsecnuac turned to ask the beggar, still crouched in the dark corner.

The beggar checked to see that they were the only souls that had remained on the scene then scoffed, "Crime?  He was only guilty of shortchanging his extortion payment.  Poor man, only yesterday he buried his wife.  He must have exhausted all his funds on her funeral."

 He rose to his feet.  Shaking his head in resignation he added, "This sort of bullying goes on unchecked all the time- best that we, too, disappear before more trouble follows."

Blocking the beggar's way, Nevetsecnuac bowed respectfully, introduced himself as "Svein" and thanked the beggar for his help in keeping him from potential disaster.  Unaccustomed to receiving kind greetings much less kind words, the beggar just shrugged off Nevetsecnuac's thanks.  But remaining on the spot the beggar squinted at Svein, curiously appraising his face and fine clothes.  Convinced of the younger man's sincerity and honesty, he then returned the greetings and introduced himself as Lu Moldan.

You must be a stranger to these parts.  Yes, you have traveled from far; Lu grasped at the truth without voicing his inner queries.

   "I don't mean to be singing my own praises but, sir; your intended action could have landed you in serious trouble.  You could have lost your life or worse, been imprisoned, severely beaten then tortured to death.  They would not have been as lenient with you as they were with Father Zuri.  We all know that these bastards travel in large groups, and that it was just a matter of time before the reinforcements showed up.  How else do you think they find the courage to carry out their lawlessness and vile acts?"

"But what of the lasting repercussions of law and order, surely there exists, some measure of accountability within the system, however corrupt?” The naïve and sanguine notion escaped Svein’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) lips before it could be curtailed.

"What law?  What order?"  Lu threw his head back with a guffaw.  "All officials, high and low are corrupt!  Where do you suppose all their illegal confiscations end up?  Are you kidding me?!!” He chortled; but then seeing Svein's flushed face, he softened, "You must have just arrived here son and that explains it."  The Beggar Lu in half disbelief (with some skepticism) studied this idealistic youth (Svein) more acutely before voicing his query, which he then quickly answered.  “You are from far, far away… the furthest rim, yes?” He nodded. "Well, this may not be the frontier, but, believe me, the situation is far worse here.  It has been that way for the last twelve, or is it fifteen, long, long excruciating years?”

“It’s been absolute hell for all who are living here… if it could be called that!  The corruption is so rampant, so imbedded in the provincial government that...  Ay!!!!” He waved a hand. “But then you must be wondering why endure such hardships, why not look for a better existence elsewhere.  Ah, but the poverty chains are so entrenched!” He shrugged.

“And so, we endure, wallow or lurch would be a more precise word, this trapped state being no better off than scavenging rats.  But you, you're a visitor and you must not linger here any longer than necessary.  Heed these words if you do not scorn my poverty: Trust no one.  Do not believe in anything you hear or see.  Conclude your business and be on your way as soon as you are able, that is if you do not wish to leave your head behind, on the executioner's block.  Of course I need not warn you about the constables."

"I'm most grateful for your concern, sir, and I will definitely heed your good counsel."  Svein (Nevetsecnuac) bowed with thanks then, after a moment's hesitation added, "As you are so kind as to trouble yourself with a mere stranger's well being, sir, may I impose further on your goodwill with a query?"

"Please do."

"Sir, my purpose in coming to this province has been to seek out Lord Shonne Gulbrand's burial place in order to pay my respects to the great Lord.  May I therefore..."

"What burial place?” the beggar snapped.  "There's no such thing."  Shaking his head in anger he laughed coldly and walked away a few steps.  Then he stopped, turned and scrutinized Svein's face.  He wanted very much to ask why one as young as Svein and an obvious stranger should be so concerned with the late Lord’s eventual resting place.  Instead, he said indignantly, "Your search would be in vain.  Even Lord Shonne Gulbrand's Centuries old ancestral burial plots, after surviving the ravages of time, had been vilely desecrated and obliterated into heaps of dust.  Nothing, nothing at all remains of his legacy, his family or his name.  Even his wife, sister to the emperor, has perished long, long time ago.  They are all gone, all without exception."

Lu abruptly paused. Though he knew he was alone with Svein, his eyes still fearfully scanned the immediate perimeter before resuming in a hushed voice, "If that's your only purpose in coming here, son, you had best be on your way."  Lowering his grim face, he turned once more to go but, on reflection he stopped and, looking back, imparted his last words of advice to Svein, "Besides, it’s far too dangerous for you to be asking such questions around here, even after this length of time.  Now, leave well enough alone and be gone from this misbegotten province."  He clasped his stomach as pangs of hunger had stabbed at him just then.  Subsequently distracted, he turned quickly and hurried away.

"Oh, blasted hunger!” Nevetsecnuac faintly heard Lu swear to himself as he was drifting into the shadows. 

“What sacrilege!” Nevetsecnuac fumed thinking of Lord Shonne Gulbrand’s fate.  Then his thoughts turned to the beggar Lu, “An intriguing individual!” He mused.  “I'm certain he knows far more than he's letting on.  I wonder what relationship he bore to the late Lord to warrant such enduring loyalty.” Nevetsecnuac inwardly queried next, mindful of the heart’s fiery passion that the beggar’s tone could not conceal. 

 

Nevetsecnuac then quickly made up his mind. "Please wait up, sir!"  He rushed after Lu.

 For an old man the beggar had moved with the agility of a wildcat and, within seconds, had disappeared from view.  Veering round the corner Nevetsecnuac with his prowess quickly caught up with the beggar in a deserted alleyway. 

Laying a gentle hand on Lu's shoulder, he said, "Sir, I would be most honored if you would consent to dine with me.  I have not eaten a meal for quite some time; furthermore, I would be most appreciative of good company."

Tears of gratitude pricked Lu's eyes once he overcame his surprise, for he had not been treated with such kindness, such respect since the time when...it was so long ago he could barely recollect.  Averse to leaving this region, he had taken various odd jobs that others found too detestable or too hard to do.  With these skimpy earnings he had managed to carve out a meager existence in the past but, of late, he had found no such opportunities.  There were more desperate and fit workers than there were jobs.

His gaze shamefully fell on his own tattered and soiled clothes.  If the truth be known, his Lips had not touched a single grain of rice or even millet for the last three days, but he was too righteous to steal or beg.  Not that it would have done any good. Because of the recent set of adversities, even the pious that streamed into town at this festival period, had remained tight pursed.  

 Today of all days his despondency had finally driven him into the temple with the purpose of borrowing some of the offerings but, once there, he had relented on his planned sacrilege and had, just moments before the disturbance occurred, quietly resigned himself to death from starvation.  An invitation to dinner was a good fortune he had not dreamt of, although he understood well enough Svein's motive in wanting his company. 

Still, for the price of a small bowl of gruel, what Svein wanted could be given freely; there was no need for such generosity.

Could this be a ruse to entrap him? He mused.  Spies were planted everywhere as a rule, sending scores to the gallows every month.  But why would they bother with him after all this time and on such a night? He pondered.

 It might have been different once, but not now. He was too old and feeble to merit any fuss let alone the expense of a trial.  Assassins abound, they would have simply snuffed out his miserable Life long ago in some dark alley and be done with him.

A Dinner, well then with his Life so burdened with hardships, why should he fear death any longer? Besides this being the Spirits night, in this late an hour many would be too terrified of repercussions from avenging ghosts wondering about, to venture outside of the safety of their confines.  Hmm that also presented another difficulty, as many eating establishments would have long since been closed.  All except that one place at the outskirts of the …… Hm… So resolved Lu met Svein's eyes and nodded, "Sir, I would be most happy to oblige but, in all fairness, I must ask you to consider carefully what you are proposing."

Svein was adamant.

"Very well then, I will take us to a place where even Lord Yozdek's Militia would not dare show their faces.  Still, it may be a trifle costly.” Lu added, hemming and hawing.

"You are shaming me, sir, with such talk of money.” Svein responded.  "Let us be on our way without further ado."

 

(END OF SECTION 1)

                                                                                     ~

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 9

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 9

ZAKHERTAN YOZDEK

Pressed upon to drink more tea, Alec happily complied and with his earlier inhibitions gradually ebbing (diminishing, fading) he now rattled on: "However, this was not the case at the start, my Lord. The disastrous outcome of the insurgents' initial campaigns had nearly stemmed the tide of this now massive resistance.  The first set of uprisings was led by San Jarl, perhaps you know of him, sir?” Alec paused to receive the answer, but Asger barely remembered the name.

 "He was a close associate of my father.  He first led his followers to stage armed resistance in his hometown district of Noran, in the fifth year of Zakhertan Yozdek's reign. 

Unfortunately, their initial swift victory over the provincial government's forces had given them a false sense of competence; for they were in no way ready to next engage the crack troops dispatched from the capital under the command of General Ang.”

“Though the rebel forces carried an inexhaustible will and courage they nevertheless were disastrously out matched in skill and weaponry. In the subsequent struggle San was killed in action and his entire force brutally annihilated. When the news of another rebellious outbreak reached the capital, the returning   General was then directed to cross the Lug River to the west and wipe them out also.  This he also did with ease.”

"The few that escaped merged two years later with the forces of yet another uprising at the border province… A…, Yes, this rebellion took place in Arkon province… Hmm, just for a spell, I seemed to have lost my train of thought. Forgive me, my Lord; for I must be tired…My head is clouding.” So, saying, Alec sipped more tea, believing it would refresh him.

 It entirely escaped him that both Svein and Asger had circumspectly emptied part of their tea aside and purposely neglected to refill it.

“The region had first suffered flash floods then had a prolonged period of severe drought.  The parched land would not yield a single blade of wild grass, let alone a kernel of grain. 

The masses starved.  Able bodied men, too impoverished even to flee boiled tree bark for soup and dug up wild roots to keep themselves and their families alive.  Yet, the provincial government continued to ruthlessly oppress people and extracted heavy taxes and rent from them, instead of sending the sought-after relief.” Alec shook his head in utter dismay.

“Countless numbers were forced to sell their children into slavery in order to meet these demands.  Such pressures on the part of the local government naturally precipitated righteous indignation (fury) and the resulting insurrectionist army quickly grew to become a force of a quarter of a million men.  Once more the capital dispatched troops to give aid and to suppress these widespread revolts but this time they were under the leadership of another general, one less able and talented than Ang. Ang you see,” Alec sneered, “despite his impeccable record of countless victories, had become a target of jealousy and resentment and, as a result of a trumped up charge, by then had already lost his head.”

"The fortunate outcome of this turn of events gave the rebel forces the brief advantage of victory.  During their occupation of these vital areas, they raided the existing (provincial) government granaries and distributed the stored food freely to the needy masses, winning   them further support for their cause.”

“But then local government agents cleverly sowed seeds of dissension among the rebel leaders and caused them to break up.  With each fighting independently of the other they one by one succumbed to defeat.  All of them, save for a few and Nuer, perished.  In the final skirmish with the reinforced government forces, at one desperate stand, Nuer along with some sixty able bodied men successfully broke through the encirclement and fled to disappear in the marshes. This heroic group came to be known as “61 Defiant”, eventually sought refuge at Lord Shonne Gulbrand's secret mountain retreat in the adjacent province, whereupon they established a more serious underground resistance movement.”

“Unfortunately, the subsequent reprisals against the insurgents' families were most bitter.  Old folks, wives, sisters, children of all ages, all relatives that were left behind, once gathered up, they were then inhumanely, mercilessly all thrown into deep pits and buried alive.”

“Their heart-rending cries haunted the soldiers who had been ordered to carry out this gruesome deed, for days thereafter.  However, the officials were unmoved, and they passed a further decree (ruling, law) to burn and level the homes of all the suspected villagers and other such collaborators as a means of weakening the insurgents’ resolve or altogether deterring any such future uprisings.” Grinding his teeth, Alec continued, "Instead, this genocide, these atrocities only strengthened the determination of those who had gone into hiding and they vowed to avenge all who had been murdered and to fight harder still to the bitter end, till they were rid of this evil regime.  In less than a year's time, having amassed a strong militia, they rose up again and marched right across the border to stage yet another uprising.  Unfortunately, after Nuer was killed in an early skirmish, his followers were quickly trounced (routed).”

"The next rebellion, which arose in the Rue District, failed also because vital information concerning   the plan of attack was leaked to the central government by turncoats.  The result was the capture of the entire rebel force in an ambush.  All the 100,000 men lost their lives by decapitation in a two weeklong public execution.  Blood flowed like a river to dye the surrounding plain, and the sickening smell of death lingered on the air for weeks afterwards.  Their leader, Carr Elof, after being forced to witness all this, was taken to the capital in heavy chains.  There, after heavy torture and a mock trial, he was accorded the prescribed sentence of the law and, in the public market, was slowly put to death by ‘Thousand cuts.’"

Alec groaned, as flames of rage similarly seared both Asger's and Svein's hearts.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Alec resumed, "But he became a martyr to the public, because, right up to the point when his tongue was cut out, Carr Elof continued to loudly revile Zakhertan and his corrupt government."  This said, Alec relapsed into brooding.

 Svein could not resist heaving a sigh, and Asger simply shook his head.

"For a long time afterwards nothing much happened, then, just as Zakhertan was congratulating himself on having rooted out all the troublesome elements in the nation, another much larger, more fearsome and better organized insurrectionist army resurfaced under the leadership of Kade, Shon, Doje and Jary to challenge(contest) Zakhertan's authority and his government’s right to rule!"

 Alec's voice had just then boomed, fueled with the surging enthusiasm that had swelled his chest.  He apologetically smiled and bit the corner of his lip to check his zeal.

"This radical force had the strongest backing of Lord Gulbrand who had enlisted into its ranks the banished civil and military officials. With their implementation of sound military strategy and tactical maneuvering, the virtually unstoppable rebel army quickly seized large territories in Fukken, Lonar, Tarak and Buker provinces. “

“To suppress them Zakhertan Yozdek's Defense department had to marshal more than seven million cash for military hardware and expenses and then mobilize forces from five provinces to the tune of 650,000 troops. Moreover, the central government adopted stronger measures of crushing the sporadic resistance.  Suspected collaborator's houses were systematically demolished or burnt to the ground, in many instances slaying all the occupants in it. “

“Meanwhile, most able-bodied farmers were taken from their fields, displaced from their villages and forced into slave labor in remote border fortifications and castles. The women and children left behind to till and harvest, under strict scrutiny journeyed each morning   to their fields and returned only at night for scant respite.

 At the first sign of any trouble gongs and bells sounded to recall everyone into the walled village square after which the gates of the stockade surrounding the village would be securely bolted.  Any left outside was fired upon by archers or put to the sword.  With such measures the government hoped to sever the least link between the farmers and the insurgents.”

"In other areas they made good use of the provincially controlled militia, who were incorporated into the regular army from the Capital to fight the rebels.  Thus, they were able to, on short notice; mobilize a large force from adjoining   provinces for the effort...  These measures, in addition to the planting of spies, offering timely amnesties, tempting bribes of various kinds, as well as sowing dissension among the suspected leaders, inevitably brought about the sure downfall of any lethal uprisings.” 

“The last bastion of staunch resistance- after several months of continuous fighting, in the final confrontation what came to be known as the “Flakanut Hill”, only half of the freedom fighters were able to break through of the fiery encirclement to retreat to safety.  The remaining   bunch refusing to surrender had continued to fight to the bitter end until they were all consumed by the searing flames.  Their death was not in vain however, for they had forced also a vast number of the government’ forces to accompany them to their deaths.”

"Three- and one-half years later, in the seventeenth year of Zakhertan Yozdek's reign, two more uprisings erupted, one led by Doje and Jary, the other by Kundrick Dufo.  Falling into an ambush at Fenzu pass, Doje was killed in action and Jary was taken prisoner.  Jary was tortured for days, then barely alive, he was hung up at the north city gates for the carrion birds to feed on.  He died an agonizing death at their beaks and claws."  Alec's face contorted in bitter disgust and, as if still seeing the grotesque figure before his burning eyes, gave an involuntary shudder. 

“All was not lost however, the scant few who had escaped death, managed to catch up with Kundrick Dufo's army and they re-emerged in Buo province to take the government's mountain stronghold at Decan pass."

Stark (Asger) was quite impressed with Alec’s apparent resilience.  The drug was designed to reduce his inhibitions, yet Alec had stuck to his narrative with amazing equanimity. At the outset, Stark (Asger) nodded his head regardless of the veracity of this remarkable blending of facts.  Conveniently also, all these supposed rebellious activities had taken place at the opposite end of Wenjenkun, so far removed from this segment of the Empire.

"Kundrick Dufo is courteous to his officers and good to his men, so his just reputation has earned him their undying loyalty.  Each, without a moment's hesitation, would lay their lives on the line for him.  A seasoned campaigner, he is utterly fearless in the face of the enemy and has always fought in the forefront of each battle.  When his army retreats, which is rare, he is the last one to cross over to safety.  Reportedly, each time the army encamped, and new wells were dug, he drank only after his men had had their fill, and ate what they ate, however unpalatable.  The spoils of war and rewards of conquest he has always divided equally among the men, enjoying no personal privilege. That is why to this day, my Lord, the insurgent, loyalist army under his great leadership has remained undefeated and has become the most formidable force to contend with.  They have, with increasing frequency, engaged the Yozdek government's forces, the latest two, at Zenro Pass and Koniko, being particularly successful, with heavy casualties being inflicted upon the enemy ranks."  Alec cleared his throat and smiled wryly, confessing, "This last bit of news, of course, was acquired through hearsay.  Still, I have no reason to doubt its validity."

 

(END OF SECTION 9)

 

 

THE FISHERMAN'S PRIZE - PART 5

 

 THE FISHERMAN’S PRIZE

(PART 5)

 

By and by the green hue made its mark in this God forsaken part of Wenjenkun. Spring season, if it could be called that, for the persistent cold weather discouraged any tender shoots or wayward blossoms from emerging tall or thriving in abundance, had eventually arrived.  Presently hardy variations did their best to accommodate the scant reptile and insect habitants. The incessant rainfall, meanwhile, raced to deck the grounds and rocks in that gray greenish moss carpet.

 

On a mundane, dreary, cool dawn, (just before at daybreak,) when low lying dense fog had again obscured visibility, a silhouette of a man was seen creeping decisively towards the protective cove where Kaimu’s and Zianko’s boats had been moored. The cloaked figure visited one briefly then going over to the other, he hunched over and adroitly implemented (carried out) the carefully devised steps.

 

    By mid-morning that same day the fog had dissipated, and the rainfall had gradually tapered off to a drizzle. Soon as the weather permitted, Kaimu was seen taking his small craft out to sea on his usual run. 

Things were different for Kaimu’s neighbor Zianko. Even though Zianko’s boat had been bigger and more equipped for the job, Zianko had never solely relied on fishing for his livelihood. He’d used the boat but rarely, on occasion, whenever the mood or craving for adventure struck him.

On this day, Kaimu had been rather surprised to note (observe) Zianko’s boat missing, but then he espied him already out at sea. Minding his business nonetheless, Kaimu rode the high waves and quickly bypassed Zianko’s boat to steer his small craft further in. But halfway to his destined spot, suddenly the (undermined) planks succumbing to the strain of the violent surfs, gave way and seawater came crushing in (pouring) with absolute potency.

There had been very little time in fact for a somber reaction, let alone seeking the reason or investigating the source, for this sudden catastrophe.

Kaimu’s heart sank in despair with the certain realization that the ever-rapacious sea would soon claim his craft, his livelihood.  At that instant even his fate seemed utterly sealed. But unwilling to face death as yet- if only for Ensa’s sake- and not wishing to be sucked into a whirlpool that the sinking craft would soon manifest (create), he dived over headlong into the treacherous, chilling waters.

A strong swimmer, Kaimu had just about managed to spread some distance between him and the sinking craft, when the most improbable thing happened!

Kaimu’s competitor and ardent foe Zianko, far from standing by and enjoying Kaimu’s great misfortune and perhaps his inevitable demise, he had instead instantly by applying himself to the oars, had rushed over to Kaimu’s rescue. Halting just ahead, Kaimu was then urged by Zianko to climb aboard.

Despite his dire plight, Kaimu refused to comply and continued swimming in the direction of the shore.

“Don’t be an ass, stubborn old fool!”  Zianko bellowed, throwing him a line with floating object at the end of it. “You are too far from the shore; grab hold!” He then urged, seeing Kaimu’s persistent (stubborn) reluctance.

“Damn it man, there’s a school of sharks headed your way!”  Zianko shouted anew, this time however with definite urgency in his voice, as he’d at the same time pointed to a distant spot.

As Ensa’s face had just then flushed (appeared) in Kaimu’s mind’s eye, Kaimu relented and changing course, same time ignoring Zianko’s cast line, he swam straight for Zianko’s boat. In the nick of time, Kaimu was hauled aboard to safety, escaping hence, the impending jaws of death!

Zianko with deliberate will constrained, stifled his bursting laughter as his narrowed eyes avidly watched Kaimu’s unease now: the way latter dejectedly sat there, all drenched to the very marrow, with chilling, thrashing winds compounding his misery, no doubt squirming inside, looking the sorriest of sights!

In all that time Kaimu had braced himself for the impending ridicule and abuse now that he was in a vulnerable state and a captive audience of his heartless adversary. But far from taking advantage and delighting in latter’s misery and misfortune: in an unexpected turn (unusual move) Zianko instead showed genuine concern for Kaimu’s welfare and even went as far as to supply Kaimu with a warm blanket and a jug of fine wine for inner warmth.

Am I dreaming this? Who’s this man that has come to my aid with such generosity of the heart? Kaimu with askance stared (glared) back at Zianko, musing. Let’s hear it! Don’t prolong the suspense…Why the charade?  What is it you want?

Noting the healthy skepticism in Kaimu’s eyes, Zianko grimaced, and kept up with his solicitous care.

“Why are you being so nice to me? What are you really up to Zianko?” Kaimu finally exploded and asked blatantly in a stern tone, as he declined yet another bout from the jug of wine.

Far from being indignant, Zianko in passive tone offered a brief plausible explanation about his changed behavior and then succinctly (described) recounted the accounts of his terrible, perilous ordeals and his unexpected brush with death at the hands of highwaymen during the last, lengthy absence from home. He reasserted in the end, that upon his chance survival, he’d wowed to mend his ways from then on and if given the opportunity, to reciprocate the kindness he’d received.

“As fate would have it, Kaimu, you are the beneficiary of that oath.” He ejected humbly.

Truly he appeared to be a changed man!

By the time they’d reached the shore, Zianko had succeeded in swaying Kaimu into a state of ease.

Zianko further proposed as goodwill gesture, that Kaimu used his craft from then on, as it remained idle most of the time anyhow, in exchange for moderate portion of Kaimu’s future catches (bounties)- one third to be exact. He declared in all sincerity that this was nothing more than a neighborly gesture on his part; till Kaimu rebounded from his near tragedy and obtained or rebuilt himself another craft. Meanwhile Zianko stood to gain, from this reciprocity, a ready supply of fresh fish without much trouble. What could be better than that?

“Let us bury the old hatched once and for all.” He then proposed magnanimously in a very persuasive tone.

Kaimu pondered for a time in reluctance, disbelieving his ears. Can a man undergo this much change? What about the ulterior motive? There had to be one. What’s worse, he now owed Zianko his life!

“Well, at least think about it neighbor… Give it some thought!” Zianko meanwhile had interjected amicably.

“You needn’t give an answer right away, as I’m not going anywhere for a while.” He shouted after Kaimu, who’d turned and hastened his steps towards home, eager as he’d been to get out of (divest) his soaking garments.

That late afternoon in an emboldened move, Zianko paid a courtesy visit to Kaimu and Ensa carrying a big bundle in his hands filled with rare delicacies. He claimed it to being a peace offering for Ensa.

Despite Ensa’s misgivings, for civility’s sake, Zianko was graciously invited in. Unfortunately, Zianko from that day forth, persistently, by degrees wormed his way into the good graces of Kaimu.

More than once, Ensa had raised the subject of her suspicions and concerns regarding Zianko, to Kaimu. How this accident at sea had resulted in such an opportune circumstance for devious Zianko. But despite Kaimu’s own reserve, he had flatly rejected this notion, claiming that “his craft had been decrepit anyhow, and so, what had happened, had to have been inevitable!” Bound now by his obligation, he’d further argued the point, “that any brush with death could change people, even one as contemptible and vile as Zianko.”

Inwardly Kaimu had the same wish for their prodigal son Yoansu that somehow, wherever he might be, when they see him next that he’d be a transformed man.

As far as Ensa knew, their second son had left them some time ago, not contented to be just a fisherman, in search of better opportunities in the nearby town. Ensa knew, rather held onto firm belief that whether successful or not, their filial son not forsaking them, would one day return home, even if it was to be for a spell.  Now that they had obtained a free wife, she prayed incessantly for her son's speedy return, thinking that the boy could be enticed (with this new addition to their family) to cease his senseless wonderings. She went to bed each consecutive night harboring the fervent desire (aspiration) that the following day would be the day she’ll greet her son at the threshold of their home.

It broke Kaimu’s heart to see the incessant disappointment registering in Ensa’s face at the conclusion of each long and laborious day. Naturally, with certain reserve, he too had shared her hopes, but unlike her, he expected the worse from the boy.

In truth, he’d never really had any faith in Yoansu’s nature or his so-called abilities. All along he’d considered this son weak in moral fiber and disloyal. Kaimu did care for the boy as much as any father would, especially since he was their only surviving offspring now, but love him? That was entirely a different matter and somewhat debatable! Furthermore, it infuriated him the way his wife had always doted on this worthless son. On occasion, when drunken, Kaimu would reveal his true emotions concerning Yoansu.  Lamenting bitterly, he would turn on his absent (prodigal) son and would curse him without reserve for his abrupt departure that so pained Ensa’s heart.  “In future when my strength and stamina fail me, how can I entrust him with the burden of responsibility?  What's the good of having a disloyal son? Without so much as a word, he just packed up and left us, you, his supposed beloved mother, in search of better horizons!  And you still count on such a being? Bah! What will it take for you to accept the fact that we have a heartless deserter for a son?”  He would then turn the full blame for Yoansu’s character on his wife, accusing her of spoiling him and for filling the boy's head with such fanciful ideas. But deep down, even when drunk, he knew the real reason why their son had left them.  He knew that it was him that had driven the boy away.  Yes, he had pushed his son too hard, and allowed him no compassion, no mistakes, or human weaknesses.  When the boy fell in with the bad lot and faced that terrible predicament, as punishment he’d withheld his support, any affection or understanding, not forgiving his son for that betrayal.

 After the tragic loss of their first-born son, Kaimu had also been most reluctant to ever leave his emotions bare or his heart vulnerable. And considering what came to pass between him and his second son; well, he could not rebound so quickly or prevent the ensuing repercussions to his second son. Nevertheless, these past few months, since his accident he’d relaxed some of his rigid, moral standards, and now a transformed man, he’d been willing to let bygones be bygones. He’d grown more flexible, more tolerant in his heart towards his prodigal second son’s obvious failings and character flaws and had inwardly promised to show the latter leniency when or if he returned home. But sadly, Kaimu could not shake the indomitable feeling deep down in his gut that the boy would never, ever amount to anything good.

 If only his elder son had not perished so cruelly at Sea.  His love for him had been, still was, unending, limitless! How tragic, that a single oversight should have cost such a promising boy his life.

 Kaimu still to date blamed himself for his absence on that day. He carried the great burden of guilt with him, which weighed heavily on his conscience and heart.

                                                                                                    ~

No matter how many times a snake sheds its skin, it’s still a snake. Unfortunately, since that day of Kaimu’s near tragedy at sea, to the chagrin of Ensa, Kaimu had increased the frequency of his correspondence with Zianko. The rekindled old relationship resulted in numerous arguments between husband and wife, disturbing the tranquil, placid life of their home. As it were, despite all his efforts, Zianko had miserably failed to win Ensa over. She’d stubbornly firmly had held on to the belief, that one with his vile and, sordid temperament could never ever change (or revert to good). In her view, Zianko was slick as a slimy snake even though nothing unlawful or criminal had thus far (stuck) was lawfully pinned on him; notwithstanding this, that didn’t mean that he was blameless or pristine.  She kept up with her suspicions that beneath that façade of recent uprightness, Zianko must still deal in all manners of illicit acts: forgeries, trafficking in contraband goods - Heaven knows what else?  Furthermore, she’d insisted on still holding Zianko responsible, even in absence of any proof, for her best friend’s murder and prompt disposal of the son Tizan. “Because of Zianko’s licentious nature, his terrible, explosive temper, disloyal heart and brutal nature, he could never boast of having any friends, only likewise associates.” She’d enumerated these failings, and more, to Kaimu on numerous (myriad) occasions, but Kaimu had obstinately ignored it, maintaining, albeit cautiously, liaison with Zianko. Though a good few years of Kaimu’s junior, on a rare occasion when Zianko had been invited to dinner for a home cooked meal, lacking in morals, he’d sneakily (underhandedly) and lustfully leered at this beautiful girl that was to be Kaimu’s daughter-in-law. When Zianko had finally wormed it out of Kaimu, the circumstances of the girl’s acquisition, underneath that mask of goodwill and well wishes, he’d seethed and inwardly coveted their good fortune.  Being an immoral opportunist, his head reeled with vile concoctions, as he saw endless possibilities in possessing such a ravishing beauty.  Only his fear of their son, a serious deterrent, checked his ultimate aim. Nevertheless, each time he frequented Kaimu’s humble abode, while successfully diverting Kaimu’s attention, Zianko had shamelessly let his lustful eyes graze on Jiense’s body. In his head choosing to put aside the only stumbling block, he would then entertain all sorts of vile possibilities as he licked his chops and inwardly asked (raised) the same, repetitive questions. How can I snatch this tender, savory lamb, this ambrosial morsel from Kaimu’s clutches?

 By right, she would fetch him a huge sum. But would the rival gang’s Chieftain Koerak be interested enough to provide (supply) him with apt protection from the anticipated reprisals?  He could always forgo (relinquish) part of the amount and negotiate instead certain provisions: that aside from security, he’d also be permitted from time to time, on favorable monetary terms that is (on discount), to also partake in heavenly pleasures with her in the designated brothel. 

Naturally, at the first opportunity wary Ensa had enumerated Zianko’s blatant indiscretions and his repeated improper leering, to Kaimu.  But this was nothing new to Kaimu, for Kaimu himself on the sly had noted Zianko's riveted gazes affixing on his proposed daughter-in-law. Far from taking offense however, he’d been rather amused and insidiously (underhandedly) had allowed Zianko to wallow in his self-imposed deprivation and envy.

                                                                                    ~

Then came a day when Zianko’s informants told him of the recent set of developments (current sequence of events) and the supposed secret about Kaimu’s son, the “number two boss”.  Zianko could hardly contain his joy, for this fortunate circumstance had now rendered Jiense a free agent (freed up Jiense), therefore eliminating the major hurdle in Zianko’s determined nefarious course.

 

Nevertheless, Zianko halting his solitary reverie- alone in his cabin as usual, daydreaming and talking inwardly- brusquely cautioned himself. I better tread on this carefully, and for the time being at least exercising prudence, simply lay low. Let the expected events unfold; meanwhile, I shall work on Kaimu. I shall first go see Souko and call in the debt he owes me. The fatuous, harebrained scholar owes me big, for getting him out of that last vicissitude (strife)!

When that’s settled, and all the technicalities (details) are worked out, I shall then acquaint Kaimu in one of our drinking sessions, with the particulars of my supposed opulent distant relative… A very distant cousin, whose existence that I’d supposedly only recently became aware of, during my last visit to (furthest) town. I shall give plausible details and accounts that are way above suspicion. For that I shall tell half-truths and artfully (timely) insert into the conversation the boy’s parents’ long-standing desire to wed him. How they are well disposed to doling out generous sums for the dowry, to secure a befitting wife for their sole heir. I shall of course leave out Souko’s perverse secret: his voracious homosexual tendencies. Instead, I shall give reasons of the problem being his discriminating taste, his conceit and arrogance. I could tell Kaimu, I’m in need of a wife too… But no, he would never go for that. And furthermore, his shrewd wife would never consent to it!  Hence, it must be this way. Later, when the opportunity strikes, I’ll discreetly bring up the subject of my distant cousin again. This time around, he would be more inclined (prone) to the idea, you’ll see. Ha, haaa! Zianko in happy anticipation rubbed his hands.

Since Zianko from then on at each visit provided Kaimu with a generous gift of a rare vintage, he in turn, to the chagrin (dismay) of Ensa, was frequently asked to be their guest. 

Perhaps as requisite- Zianko’s life being often in jeopardy- as well, when one factored in the age difference: Zianko surpassed Kaimu’s otherwise sturdy build, stronger constitution and stamina. What’s more damaging however was the fact that Zianko could hold his drink much better than Kaimu and being unscrupulous, often resorted to cheating to outmaneuver Kaimu at mind-games, physical sport- such as arm-wrestling matches- atop various kinds of drinking wagers. But far from being stooped, rebounding quickly at each turn, Kaimu with his uncanny wit, to the chagrin of Zianko, would deny latter the complete satisfaction and score ingenious victories of his own.  The friendly banter kept both on their toes and sharpened their zeal- flourishing each with a healthy dose of respect for the opposition.

 With the cementing of such friendship, Zianko in time grew bold and seemingly more careless with his talk. On an opportune moment one day he henceforth (therefore) spilled the beans, rather, unburdened himself to Kaimu and told latter of the particulars, a dire secret about his supposed nephew Souko.

                                                                                    

                                                                                    ~

END OF SECTION 5

 

(MORE EXCITING SET OF EVENTS WILL UNFOLD IN THE NEXT POST OF FISHERMAN’S PRIZE - SECTION 6)

FISHERMAN'S PRIZE - PART 3

 FISHERMAN'S PRIZE

PART- 3

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

FISHERMAN’S STORY

SECTION 3

 

The (salvaged) girl had fortuitously survived her ordeal and because of several weeks of diligent, patient care, recovered in full. Recognizing these two as her benefactors, the moment that she had regained her strength and was able to, she had bowed to them with deep respect and uttered her name, words of gratitude, as well, promised to repay their kindness in full. Though her foreign language, the strange dialect had not been comprehensible (well understood), her sincere intent nevertheless transcending the barriers was fully communicated. They, in turn, responded with glowing faces, delighted words, and heartfelt, warm embraces, taking her to their bosoms as one of their own.

When the girl’s sunburned, chapped skin completely healed leaving no scar: she was revealed to them as one whose radiance and ravishing beauty rivaled that of Goddesses. Her striking good looks however mattered truly little to these simple, honest folks, with whom any young female would have sufficed and as well appreciated.  A gemstone cast amidst the worthless pebbles on the beach, she received no special recognition for her timeless beauty. In fact, her delicate poise, far from receiving admiration or special regard, gave them pause for concern (and added worry). As a result, they attempted to toughen her constitution up and they forced on her extra rations and arduous work.

  From the beginning, since they’d found it most difficult to pronounce or remember her real name, they chose another name for her in its stead.  They adapted the name Jiense, most common one in use in these parts and one most favored by the local fishermen, for their wives or female children, for it meant “Pearl of the Sea”.

In the ensuing days, the girl’s different vocabulary naturally presented some unavoidably awkward, cumbersome moments. Kaimu seeing the need charged Ensa with the added responsibility of educating the girl with Wenjenkun’s own vernacular. Despite all good intentions, however, pressing workload and daily chores had often hindered progress. The negligible communication gap meanwhile had been bridged by more effective, readily available sign language.

Needless to say, Kaimu and Ensa in all this time had taken every precaution to conceal Jiense’s presence from the unwanted, intrusive eyes of lawbreakers, racketeers that might be frequenting the region. Fortunately, as well, their nearest neighbor Zianko, one who had a questionable character, had been absent from his home for several months now; as Ensa suspected, undoubtedly engaged in yet another illicit plunder!

Over time, the absence of any formal or informal inquiry eased both Kaimu and Ensa’s trepidation. Having taken a genuine liking to this gentle soul from the start, Ensa gave no further thought to the girl’s leaving them, and to the delight of Kaimu, from then on began considering the precious thing in her heart and mind, as her very own future daughter-in-law.

On Kaimu’s part, by keeping in check his uncouth nature, he had learned to be gentler in speech, exercise patience and tolerance. So as not to scare off Jiense, he constrained his ill temper even when things did not go well; meanwhile avoiding any direct dealings with Jiense and leaving the job of molding her to their way of thinking, entirely to his wife's ability. As a result, Jiense encountered no ill effects or adverse experiences with Kaimu.

  As she had remained ignorant of her true whereabouts, and at the same time felt obligated to stay with these generous, decent folks to repay their kindness, Jiense for the time being at least, had postponed any notion of departure (leaving them).  She had no way of knowing of course that the spare room she stayed in, the room belonging to their son Yoansu, had been already pegged, designated as her future nuptial room. As she was sweet natured and easygoing, before long she had even gotten used to the coarse furnishings and the sorry absence of any decoration about.  The few belongings that had been left behind by the son had of course been secured in a locked, cumbersome wood chest in the far corner of the room. 

In addition to helping Ensa with her daily chores Jiense also learned a few other helpful skills, like mending the torn nets, weaving straw baskets or mats for additional funds, or added use. By now she could start a fire and cook meals their way, using the most primitive means that was available to her in this small dwelling. Her delicate hands under the strain of work broke in calluses, and her tender skin often bled from the cuts caused by the coarse materials she managed. The menial, demeaning jobs, ones that in the past would have been shunned by her lowliest servant were nonetheless completed by her nimbly and with no outward show of discontent. After the grueling day’s work, each night Jiense collapsed on her coarse bed and slept soundly without dreams or nightmares in exhausted state. She was driven hard, but remained contented for she received ample love, appreciation, and compassion.

 

And so, in this way two or three months had quickly passed.

                                                         

At this forlorn corner climate being particularly harsh, spring’s arrival had always been late in coming. It was yet another particularly chilling overcast night. Howling winds had kept up their tyranny all day long and now continued well into the night without any let up. The half-crescent moon periodically peeked, as the ominous cumulus clouds raced across the night’s sky.

In this god-forsaken night, three mounted riders galloped the barren stretch of land, fearful lest they’d be detected. Reaching Zianko’s dwelling, they abruptly came to a halt and dismounted. As the moon had gone in prolonged hiding, in that pitch darkness where visibility was almost nil (zero) except for the flash of sheet lightening within clouds that periodically (intermittently) illuminated the ground: the nocturnal animals had witnessed nervous horses drenched in sweat, being quickly tethered to the side. Two of the men busied themselves with the fastened cargo, whilst the third one pulled down from the horse’s back an abstract bundle concealing the bound and gagged figure of a man, and with some difficulty carried his heavy load inside the house. The windows had already been bolted shut with heavy shutters, discouraging any light or illegal entry. A small candle was quickly lit to effort them scant visibility. The stout fellow with the distinguishing mustache who appeared to be in charge, after peeking from the adjusted slats of the shutters turned to address Zianko.

“What about that cabin, your nearest neighbor- are you sure it will be all right? Shouldn’t we take the precautionary measure of disposing them?”

“It’s not necessary as it’s beyond the hearing range. And besides, do you know who dwells in that seemingly vulnerable, dilapidated cabin?” Zianko responded haughtily, with a smirk.

“Who?” The other’s curiosity was aroused.

“The parents of number 2 boss of the notorious “Ravens Gang”.

“You don’t say?” The other two men in one voice, aghast, came forward to ask.

“No kidding!” Zianko smirked.

“But the whole place is so rundown!”

“Go figure!” Zianko smiled wryly, and took in a breath, prolonging their suspense, before extrapolating. (Offering added explanation.)

“Kaimu, number two boss’s father, is a stubborn old coot. His wife Ensa is worse! She is a pious hag who insists on upholding morality and living with integrity. They would have been a ripe picking for any criminal and fallen prey a long, long time ago had it not been for this connection. But want a laugh? The old folks are ignorant of their son’s power and prestige.” He laughed.

“That must be convenient.” One of them interjected.

Zianko disinterestedly shrugged. “I’ve had no dealings with them since my wife died.”

“You mean murdered.”  The youngest one of the bunches snickered (countered). “Whatever.” Zianko winked at the other two. “Ensa is a shrew that controls that old man. Anyhow, back then, she insisted on exposing me; persisted in her bizarre hypothesis that I had something to do with my wife’s murder. A raw erupted and we have not been on speaking terms since.”

“Never mind about that,” Just then the fellow with a mustache coming away from the window interjected. “We haven’t got time for idle gossip.” Then turning to squarely face Zianko, in a stern voice added: “Now you know what is expected of you. Nevertheless, till you hear a definite word from us, I want you to lay off him.” With his chin he indicated the bound, drugged unconscious stout official that had been dumped at the far corner of the room. “Just in case things go array or more proof of a body part is needed. Meanwhile, I caution you to stay well out of sight. If she is as inquisitive as you claim, she may bring unwarranted trouble to us. Opportunists are everywhere. The abduction has already caused quite a stir. Hence, not a soul must be wizened to the whereabouts of this fiend! Have I made myself clear?”

“Great, now I’m a babysitter.” Zianko grumbled.

“You’ll be well compensated for your services.” The leader frowned. “If you blow it however, you shall suffer far worse consequences then him.”

“I don’t respond well to threats!” Zianko’s face, pitted against the leaders, flushed bead red in anger. But then relenting, he held his temper in check and turning, he asked instead.

“Am I expected to feed him too?”

“Do as you like.”  The leader scowled. “His fate would be the same either way.”

“Hungry corpse would be easier to dispose of after all.” Zianko grumbled under his breath, then turning to face the other two, asked: “Now can one of you help me carry him to the cellar before you go?”

Not waiting for their answer however, he pushed aside the table and rolled back the square rattan floor covering to reveal a trap door underneath. He grasped hold of the round ring of the heavy trap door and with a heave, lifted it open. Instantly a pungent, foul smell escaping from the (pitched dark) cellar assailed their noses. 

“Phew!”  They averted their faces, scrunching their features with utter disdain.

“What’s down there, dead rats?” The youngest one pointing complained.

“Human corpses smell the same.” Zianko, the only one who wasn’t at all disturbed by the smell, indifferently shrugged. He picked up the lit candle and descended the steps quickly to clear away some clutter and to arrange for an adequate space.

When he again resurfaced, a designated volunteer helped him to deliver the unconscious hostage to the prepared spot. Zianko using strong ropes now fastened the stout official securely to the pole.

“Unfortunately, since your leader wants him alive for the time being, I have to keep this latch door open for a crack, otherwise he would suffocate.” He then grunted, as he came up. “That would be a bother.”

The leader had had enough of Zianko’s smugness.

“We’ve dallied here long enough!” He barked and walked towards the door. But before exiting, he half turned to say. “You should be hearing from us (a word) in four- or five-day’s time.”

                                                                                  ~

 

Ensuing days, quite unaware of the sinister goings on in Zianko’s residence- for as far as they were concerned Zianko was still far away (absent) - hard working Kaimu, Ensa and Jiense lived out their invariable mundane lives in equable peace and tranquility.

 

All this time, however, Zianko had been insufferably sequestered inside (confined indoors) and from daybreak to dusk he had to remain perfectly still and stationary (quiet and immobile). At latter part of the night when it was opportune to do so, covert beehive of activity always reached a crescendo. For Zianko could then light up the stove, cook and drink; he was at liberty to engage in numerous vile acts and torment his captive, or on occasion, walk about aimlessly under the cover of darkness outside. After an elapse of only three days the constrained lifestyle, however, had begun to take its toll on him. To while away (pass) the dreary daylight hours, Zianko therefore had more than once, peeped through a spy hole, hoping to see something extraordinary, in order to dispel his mounting irritation and to divert his boredom.  It was then that he spotted a third figure, a stranger milling about Kaimu’s residence. With his excellent vision (eyesight), he could discern the stranger’s exquisite facial features, the long flowing hair, and despite the plain attire, the petite (slender) shapely form of a tender youth, that gradually surmounted (piqued) Zianko’s interest.

Now about eight years Kaimu’s junior, Zianko had only been married once. And that had been to a young widower, with a young son named Tizan- who was the product from her previous marriage.

As she had been from an opulent family, somewhat fair in looks and well-endowed with feminine charms (parts), she would have gone on satisfying Zianko’s discriminating taste or needs for a good many years. But in just three years, the matrimonial bliss had come to an abrupt and violent end, not too long after she had struck up a close friendship with Ensa. 

To date, Zianko blamed Ensa for spinning (putting) those contemptible notions into his wife’s head.

Like the idea, of it being both moral and lawful, to pass the inheritance of her former late husband’s property to his bloodline, his only offspring!

In time the rift between Zianko and his wife had widened to an irreparable point (measure), as Zianko had been prevented from getting his grasping hands on the rest, the bulk of her estate. What is more, her former husband’s begotten family, and then reeled into this mess, had exercised their supposed rights, through bribery, to siphon away a good chunk of it.

Was I supposed to idly stand by and see it all disappear? If not for the meddling of Ensa, I would have had a free reign with it all! Zianko, while spying on the stranger, had once more become lost in angry revere.

 As he saw it, it was therefore all Ensa’s fault that he had to act fast and get rid of his increasingly difficult and uncooperative wife and stepson.

Indeed, timing being of the essence, before the boy had reached the age of ascent, a month or two before Tizan was to become twelve, Zianko had used every available means to secure, in his view, “what should have been rightfully his!”

Zianko had always, through such logic, rationalized his numerous brutal acts (deeds). This case being no different, his only regret had been- the eventual failure of the permanent disposal of the boy, who was an eyewitness to (of) his foul deed.

“How he hated loose ends! But the brat had been both agile and cunning!”

Incredibly, Tizan had successfully averted the virulent potions, the malignant food, and the pernicious traps; what’s more, persevering through prodigious (ghastly) physical and mental torments during his incarceration, had made good his escape.

“To date it boggles my mind,” Zianko with a frown, inwardly confessed. “The ingenious way the dastardly rat sprung himself from that cadaverous trap!”

It had taken Zianko many wasted years before he could relax his vigil and have the boy legally declared dead. It was after all, not an uncommon occurrence in these parts, for a man or a runaway boy in this case, having been at large, ultimately falling a pray to some predatory beasts or bandits.

Most of the wildlife at the edge of the foothills had been hunted down by then, but on occasion; some wild beast would still descend from the heights, in search of food.

One thing was for certain; the boy had never made it to the nearby town. And no one had ever heard or seen him since!

 

   (CONTINUES ON NEXT POST- PART 4)