THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 33

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 33

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

03- MOURO AND HECUN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

04-KADE LUIR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                                     ~

 

(END OF SECTION 33)

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 31

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 31

On the appointed day at cockcrow the quiet city streets were rocked by the marching of armed guards, some decked out in full armor as though going into battle, and the rumbling, creaking crunch of the heavy iron mobile cage, hauled by two sturdy workhorses.  Heading up this procession was the mounted Hecun.

01- PRIONER TRANSPORT IN IRON CAGE

 The few vendors who opened up shop early rubbed their sleepy eyes and complained then craned their necks and sharpened their stares with interest when they awakened to the procession's significance.

 The barking of a stray dog accompanied the guards until a cast-off broom whisk landed on its muzzle and sent the beast scurrying off with sharp yelps.

 Leaving the gates of Denor City and the stir they had created behind, the long train forked off from the major highway and continued its snaking route through the undulating hills and valleys surrounding the city.  Hecun drove his men relentlessly, hastening them towards their destination, fearful that the prisoner would not survive a long ordeal.

The summer season was almost at an end and the gusts of easterly winds often arose out of nowhere to thrash the faces of the horsemen as the mounting, dark clouds sailed on continuously like an endless armada of war across the gloomy sky, driving the sun away into hibernation.

For the next two days the torrential rains soaked them to the bone as the uneven, slippery mud paths compounded the difficulties of this already arduous journey.  Any idea Hecun had of a swift advance was soon discarded.  The flat lands were turned into seascapes and in the bare hills the greatest danger was from sudden mud slides, which could bring half the hillside down onto the road in seconds.  Hecun's party apprehensively passed through this dangerous zone, too, until the rain tapered off to a light drizzle.

Looking out across the long, sodden grasses that flanked their path laid low by the weight of the water on their leaves then turning his gaze skyward to the menacing, mounting clouds roiling in the gray sky, threatening to begin the deluge anew, the Head Bailiff Hecun sighed repeatedly.

“This is possibly the worst season to undertake this journey,” He grumbled. “Heat on one hand, torrential rains on the other.” 

His dismal thoughts turned to the prisoner, locked up in the cage, it only opened a small hole in the upper left side which allowed food and water to be dropped in.  Shrugging his shoulders dispassionately, he mused, “He's the only one shielded from this blasted rain, but at what cost?  Confined in that restrictive, suffocating space, rotting in his piss and excrement…  Thankfully, I’m not that wretch.”

He stretched his limbs in appreciation. “That stupid Temple…  That trespassing charge is unwarranted after all this time.  Why not petition His Royal Highness to have that unjust law rescinded or amended?  Or just has the cursed place leveled or scorched to the ground so that it can't entrap or injure anyone else?  How many more lives will be wasted needlessly because of it?”

Hecun inhaled deep. At least the rain had finally stopped. As he rode on, his thoughts once more reverted to prior concern.

“How many times have I sounded out my reasoning to the Prefect… time after time without success?  He just turned a deaf ear to me.  It's all too convenient for him, isn't it, to keep things just the way they are?  After all, if he were to heed my suggestion, he would be hard pressed to fabricate another trap to rid himself of his enemies or other unwanted pests so conveniently.  I was a fool to even waste my breath.  Things never change.  It’s the same everywhere.  I really should try to mend my ways and still my tongue; I should be more like Mouro, so as to avert future disasters. Would it work if I utilized akin underhanded means as Mouro? I wonder though, how many more innocent souls like this scholar will be ensnared in future; how can I idly stand by and do nothing about it? Would my conscience (ethics) let me? “

But then Head Bailiff Hecun suddenly became aware of disturbance at the rear of the column.  Wheeling his horse round, he shouted, "What's all the commotion about back there?  And why aren’t you moving?"

"Look, sir.  Look!"  One of the panic-stricken guards pointed left to the menacing, fearsome mounted warrior figure at the hilltop.

Turning his head, Hecun looked up at the indicated spot.  His soul nearly took flight.  This was the sight he most dreaded seeing.  Mounted atop a black coal horse, standing like a crown on the crest of the hill, was the majestic, formidable figure of Zonar!

Swallowing his fright, Hecun dispensed the orders at once for the men to surround the prisoner's cage, draw their swords in readiness of a strike, and make haste to the more defensible ground to the right.

"Remember men, despite his formidable appearance, he's only flesh and blood.  He can be bested, just like any other mortal man." Hecun shouted his encouragement along the way.

"He's also pitted against two hundred of us.  We'll make him taste a bitter defeat if he dares to attack us.  We'll show him what we're made of!"

These men (guards) were all hand-picked by Hecun and Mouro to ensure the success of this assignment.  All were seasoned warriors, capable of either mounting a strong, sustained attack or fighting a pitched defense with equal ease.

02-  ZONAR

Irrespective of this, however, the foe facing them now looked so menacing, struck such awe into their hearts that, as they assumed their defensive positions and waited for the dreaded confrontation, many once proud warriors entertained thoughts of dropping their arms and fleeing (running off) to safety, but all knew that at the first sign of desertion they would be cut down by Hecun or by one of their own comrades.  Even if they succeeded in their cowardly flight, they would be wanted men forever forsaking their homes and host of loved ones, the parents, wives, brothers, sisters and children who depended on them.

“What's he waiting for?” Hecun nervously tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword when the anticipated rush of the assassin still did not come.

“What’s his game?  Is he waiting for night to fall?  It may well be his tactic to wage war on our nerves first.  It would therefore be to our advantage to combat him now, while the morale of the men is still high.”  With this in mind Hecun, loudly reviled Zonar from his safe distance, challenging him, trying to draw him into a fight; meanwhile, emboldened by Zonar's lack of response, his men also joined in with added verbal abuse and taunts.

 “What, still no response?”  Though he had been tempted, Hecun knew enough not to divide his force and initiate the offensive when the opponent held the high ground. Instead, Hecun quickly dispatched four of his archers, armored with overlapping plates of laminated bronze which gave maximum protection and freedom of movement, to (in roundabout way) get closer to Zonar and let loose a volley.

The remaining men watched in horror as, the arrows loosed straight at his chest, Zonar swept his hand in front of him with lightning speed, caught the arrows and, using no bow, launched them back full force through the armor and into the hearts of the hapless archers.  As his black steed reared up, Zonar let loose an earth-shaking, ear-splitting laughter.  This made the hair on the back of all the guards’ necks stand up as their blood simultaneously froze in their veins.

The next moment, in an unexpected move, however, Zonar had wheeled his horse round and in the blink of an eye disappeared from view.

Far from being relieved, every man in the command had realized in that instant that they would not stand a prayer of a chance in any direct encounter with this demon.  And that they were, for the time being safe, so long as Zonar was only toying with them.

In the following days and nights, the guards kept up with their constant vigilance (did not dare drop their guard for one second) and in securing the prisoner; consequently, they were robbed of least respite and peace of mind.  On (perpetual) assiduous alert, every guard with taut nerves constantly panned the surrounding hills, the vast fields and valleys with fear filled eyes, anticipating and dreading the imminent mortal encounter with Zonar.

A few of the more disgruntled were in the process of conspiring to mutiny, to murder Hecun and turn the prisoner over without the least resistance, when Zonar again suddenly (appeared) manifested but after a spell, just as quickly disappeared. 

 

                                                                                      ~

 

As Hecun's guards had remained on high alert pending a surprising dire onslaught from Zonar, Micen Do back in the comfort of his study, had just settled down to, forsaking the tea, enjoying some delectable salty tidbits on the tray. His mind totally at ease, Micen remained quite certain that he had, with his brilliant ploy, outmaneuvered the grizzly-haired demon.

 It was the middle of the afternoon on an unusually hot day and Micen, now feeling parched, just put aside a document he had been studying, looked up and was about to send for some cool refreshments when, “What the devil?”

 In a chair at the far corner of the room, casually seated and reading from an ancient scroll, sat Zonar; this sight instantly, therefore, froze the subsequent words on Micen's tongue.

Though Micen was mesmerized by fright at first, the casual, indifferent attitude of the assassin, completely immersed in the ancient literature, put the Prefect somewhat termporarily at ease.  He was not reconciled to dying and eyed the door, contemplating which course would be faster, calling for help from the five guards posted outside or making a dash for the door.

03- ZONAR KUNTZU

Micen’s blood turned to ice in his veins when just then Zonar looked up, and their eyes met.  Next instant, before Mucen could utter a single sound, he was cleaved clean through from top to bottom… For Zonar's gleaming sword had cut him into two perfect halves.

As Micen's right half watched with its waning eye, the left side collapsed onto the desk, dispersing a pile of documents.  Zonar instantly recognized Fradel Rurik Korvald's actual identity papers and summons, fallen three-quarters of the way out of a parchment envelope and, reaching for it, disappeared in the last beat of Micen's heart.

The secretary, coming into the room minutes later with some documents, made the grisly discovery and so alerted the household.  The news of Micen's assassination spread like wildfire throughout Denor City and the entire prefecture and all citizens rushed indoors, apprehensive about their own mortality.

 

                                                                                    ~

 

After an arduous, apprehensive trek, Hecun and his guard regiment at long last escorted the prisoner to the border crossing at Danlo Pass.  The disgruntled, weary group finally relaxed their vigil only after they had confirmed, from the border guards, that no person matching Zonar's name or description had preceded them across the border.  Accordingly, they relayed their warnings to the border patrol to be on the alert for such dangerous assassin, and to arrest or apprehend him on sight, if they were capable of doing so.

"You're the second group in five days that has made in depth inquiries after such a person." the border guards professed, scratching their heads.  "However, the others said nothing about him being a wanted criminal."

When Hecun ascertained that they were referring to Mouro's group, he was concurrently, both pleased and offended. He spoke thoughtfully to the sergeant Tubak that was riding alongside him. “It's not like Mouro to be so remiss.  Other, more serious concerns must have preoccupied his mind though, for the life of me, I cannot imagine what they could be.  He never disclosed to me the nature of his urgent task, not really.  But it’s just like him to be this evasive.  Now I think of it, those last two or three days he'd seemed rather more irritable than usual.”

Hecun had abruptly fallen silent at this moment, as he inwardly mused: “True, we've been good friends for a long time now, and I am fond of him.  Still, I cannot boast that I’ve fully understood him.  I know no more about him now than I did when I first met him.  When he was in such desperate straits I did set him on the straight course, welcomed him to my home, and even helped him get that job.  I remember how I watched in amazement as he, always an apt student, fully subdued all opposition and managed to ingratiate himself in the good graces of the Governor and Micen.  He even managed to pull off something I've never been able to do and curry favor with that stand-offish, condescending Luko clan.”

With a twinge of jealousy in his heart, Hecun now disdainfully further recalled how Mouro's ambitious undertakings had paid off.  Within a year's time Mouro, despite his youth and considerable inexperience, had taken advantage of his superior martial abilities, if one believed the official explanation, to bypass Hecun and win the promotion meant for (the Head Bailiff) him.

Annoyed only at first, Hecun, nevertheless, soon realized that it would be more to his advantage to remain on good terms with his new superior, than to become his adversary.

Besides, Hecun had found it awfully hard to refute Mouro's congenial qualities and his gracious side.  He certainly could not deny that Mouro had also reciprocated his previous kindness in full, and countless times had bailed him out of trouble with Micen. 

Mouro had also filled another desperate void in Hecun's life by fitting snugly into the shoes of the bailiff's deceased younger brother.  Hecun now recalled fondly also how, when they were alone, Mouro had respected and treated Hecun as the elder brother, but the closeness had remained chiefly one-sided. Not being the type to bear his soul to anyone, Mouro had constantly guarded his privacy and history even from him (Hecun), letting it be known only that he was born a native of Tenzo Province.

"Five days, eh, this is good."  Hecun, well across the border, was in better spirits and gloated to his subordinate (sergeant) Tubak.  "Why, that means that, despite all the setbacks we've suffered, we've still made pretty good time, especially considering that they're riding swift horses on a straight highway, and I'm pretty certain that they encountered no bandits like we did, or that assassin, Zonar.  Mouro would not have missed a chance to boast of it to those border guards."

"Yes, sir…  We were rather fortunate that he chose not to engage us after that first sortie.  Even so," the sergeant dismally hung his head, "the threat of confronting him again was still enough to drive many good men to contemplating desertion... pity."

"Are you blatantly aligning your sympathies with those cowards?  Their desertion seriously undermined our capacity to confront that gangster Lurin and his lawless bunch!" Hecun stormed.  "Perhaps it was your intention to desert as well?"

04- SERGEANT TUBAK

"Sir ...  I'd never ever considered such a thing!" the sergeant contested vehemently.  "Forgive my audacity for speaking as I did just then.  My thoughts were of Yozder, he was ordinarily a good sort.  Not too long ago he lost his wife in a tragedy.  Now his five young children, the oldest is only nine, are left without any means of support, and only Yozder's invalid aunt to care for them.  I could not help grieving for what will become of them now."  He hung his head, but his sidelong glance at Hecun framed his unspoken question, couldn’t you have, just this once, bent the rules just a little?  Why did they all have to perish?

Hecun fumed, "I'm not such a heartless man as you make me out to be, sergeant, but rules are rules.  The deserters knew full well what they were getting themselves into.  They got nothing more nor less than, what they deserved.”

“Remember, because of them we were all put at risk.  How can I expect strict obedience in the future from the rest if I showed leniency or, worse, made an exception?  Regulations in militia must be strictly adhered to, so that men can feel secure.  Your grievance against me is totally unfounded, sergeant, and I counsel you to think hard before airing your thoughts to me again."  After this rebuke, Hecun angrily spurred his horse toward the iron cage, ignoring his subordinate's gobbed (spat, expelled) apologies.

“That's more than I can say for this poor wretch.  Despite his innocence, he's been ensnared in an unjust law and is now being made to suffer for it.” Hecun grumbled to himself.

 His thoughts then turned to more immediate concerns, “Why hadn’t Zonar struck and vanquished them when he had them at his mercy?  Why had those bandits attacked just after they were through Danlo Pass?”

Hecun recalled presently what he had heard distinctly some of the gang members had said, as they attempted to seize (snatch) the iron cage.

 “But what on earth made them think that we were carrying gold in the cage, instead of a criminal?”

 

Now that they were inside Tenzo Province the general consensus was that the worst had been left behind them, nevertheless Hecun opted for caution and closely followed the course Mouro had charted out for him.

Their subsequent laborious advance took them through difficult terrain, over uneven paths that were often carpeted in vegetation that had withered in the dry heat and choked with debris blown in by the driving gusts of wind.  Beneath their concealment lay a multitude of dangers for horses and riders alike.

Rounding yet another sharp turn, Hecun shielded his eyes and gazed questioningly over the sharp precipice that loomed just ahead.  To his dismay the distant canyon, shrouded in twilight, disclosed no signs of human habitation.

“Was it conceivable that Mouro had miscalculated the details of the supposed settlement nestled in this valley's forest? Their water rations had been getting dangerously low in this high, arid region and there was no reprieve in sight. “Hecun, grimly hence, anticipated even more desertions among his disgruntled guards.

Taking out Mouro's map, he studied it once more.  A small mark indicated the ruins of a monastery close by.

 “Hmm…If there are wells, there will certainly be water there. “

 Hope sprung up anew in Hecun's heart.  Since dusk was fast approaching, Hecun resolved to set up camp at the monastery and so dispatched scouts in three directions to locate it.

    

                                                                                  ~

 

(END OF SECTION 31) 

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 12

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 12

Nevetsecnuac politely coughed to break the uneasy silence and then adroitly, with apt sensitivity, addressed all the areas of difficulty till most of Fradel's qualms were eased.  As it were, even though Fradel's literary work had won him fame and his reputation had been widespread throughout the Kingdom, his previous seclusion proved to be a bonus (advantage) to their present plan (stratagem). No one, not even the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren who was responsible for his recommendation at Court (save for a few acquaintances in Fradel’s remote region), knew of his precise physical appearance.

Nevetsecnuac was erudite (scholarly, cultured, widely read); now factor in the official’s hasty, unprecise (undetailed) sketch on the ID permit, then, Nevetsecnuac could easily pass as Fradel.  All that remained at present was for the Nevetsecnuac to be briefed (updated) on the pertinent details of what was expected of him upon his arrival at the Capital and at his presentation at Court, as had been previously relayed to Fradel by the Imperial palace guard Tuo (special attaché of P.M. from the Rights division).  Diligently, Fradel began to share all he knew, even though he was extremely tired and barely able to stay awake.

"Elder Brother, you are exhausted.  Why do you persist in going on?” Nevetsecnuac was concerned about Fradel’s health, just then asserted. “Please get some rest.  Since there are still so many details that need going over, I will stick around (linger, tarry) for an extra day." To encourage Fradel to retire, Nevetsecnuac, quickly snuffed out (blew) the two candle lights, leaving only one.

“All right… Good… I will go rest then. “Fradel, inwardly overjoyed to have his brother with him for another day, lethargically rose from his seat and, after divesting his outer suit coat, climbed under the covers of the bed.

"I look forward to exchanging more info…" His voice trailed to silence for, no sooner had his head touched the pillow than he sank instantly into a deep slumber.

Nevetsecnuac subsequently following Fradel's lead, had also gone to bed. The room at present enveloped in pitch darkness and tranquil air (silence) permeating throughout now that the storm outside had subsided, it became highly conducive to sleep yet sleep averted Nevetsecnuac. Laying on his back (reposing) perfectly still till small hours, his mind enumerated (reckoned, listed) every possible circumstance, hoping to ensure (secure) Fradel's safety, as well, exempt Fradel from suspicion of conspiracy, for Nevetsecnuac did not wish to have on his conscience, another purge of the Scholars. Only after Nevetsecnuac had resolved every variance of peril (risk, hazard), did he closed his eyes to gain some rest, but by then it was too late, the cock's crow outside announced the arrival of a new day.

The help downstairs was already, heard, stirring; quietly Nevetsecnuac rose from his bed, washed up, dressed, then exited the room. Nevetsecnuac informed the innkeeper of their intention to stay for an additional day and left with them the instructions that Fradel presently was not disturbed.  Then he went to the stable to check on the horses.

 It was late morning, long after Nevetsecnuac had breakfasted and taken a ride to survey the countryside that Fradel awoke.  During the course of the day, they both rode the safe pathways that Nevetsecnuac had found and talked at length as Nevetsecnuac's ingenious plan was unfolded.

Fortunately, as apt precaution, both had given false (synonym) names when they had sought lodgings (and registered), as well, refrained from divulging their travel plans to the very inquisitive Innkeeper, the night before.  Later still, Nevetsecnuac had learned, by conversing with the help, that by some good fortune they had taken the roundabout route to Fradel's destination, the Provincial Capital of Toren.  This road first bypassed the town of Monter and was not as frequented as the other.  Accordingly, Fradel was instructed to, upon reaching Monter, claim that he had taken the more direct route; this way the incriminating evidence (clue) of their being seen together at the inn, would hence be missed (concealed, overlooked) by the future probable (likely) investigators overseeing Fradel's case.

Rising at dawn the next day they left the inn.  After a full day’s ride at dusk stopping at the secluded spot, they set up camp.  Repast quickly concluded, as an added precaution their personal apparel worn at the inn and on the road leading there, was quickly consigned to the flames and they both donned scholar's garments.  Of course, Nevetsecnuac now carried all of Fradel's important papers on his person as well as, on Fradel's insistence, the special brush and ink pad, though the prince felt it would be of limited use.

Returning to the fork in the road, they then took the alternate, more direct route.  At a significant location they dismounted and buried Lord Asger's sword, for either of them to retrieve later.  This was necessary as Nevetsecnuac would most undoubtedly be searched at the city gate.

It was also determined that, in order to enforce the deception, they must also exchange their steeds.

His heart laden with misgivings, Fradel watched Fiery Comet's defiance, how he neighed, trotted and shook his head wildly as Nevetsecnuac led the horse by the reins towards him.  Halting a few feet away, Nevetsecnuac stroked Fiery Comet's mane and patiently whispered his brief instructions into the defiant animal's ear until the stallion nodded his head in assent.

How remarkable! Fradel mused.  Can a beast truly be that intelligent?

Surmising Fradel's thoughts, Nevetsecnuac rejoined with a smile as he handed over the reins, "He's like no other, Fradel.  Rest assured, in compliance with my wishes he'll curb his temper and carry you safely to your destination.  When in doubt you may rely on his instincts.  He will deliver you from all danger."

Half convinced; Fradel nodded.

When all had been said and done, the two embraced one last time as brothers and bid an emotional farewell to each other.

Still apprehensive about riding such a magnificent war horse, Fradel braced himself and climbed into the saddle.  Remarkably, just as Nevetsecnuac had assured him it would be, Fiery Comet trotted in a manner and at a speed befitting Fradel's own, more domesticated, gelding.  When a sudden gust of wind rose up to snatch Fradel's scholar's cap off of his head this intelligent animal halted instantly, without receiving any orders, and stood perfectly still until Fradel had dismounted, retrieved his cap.  When Fradel returned to mount him again, he noted the partially dried line of tears under the horse's eyes.  Shaking his head in disbelief, he put his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself back into the saddle.

With longing in his own heart, he then looked back and sought out the consistent form of his new brother, no more than a speck in the distance.  His eyes were soon obscured by tears, and, with blurred vision, he turned his head back in the direction of the road, not knowing that the distant figure stayed with them, just on the horizon, until dusk.

 

(END OF SECTION 12)

                                                                                       ~

THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 17 (CONCLUSION)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 17

Brandishing his sword as he stood in ready stance, Alec bellowed, “I am Heng Erling, the only surviving son of Marshal Gustav Erling and I have waited all my life for this day of vengeance!”

“I should have known you were (false) duplicitous right through” Nevetsecnuac fumed.

“A leopard doesn’t change its spots!”

 “Call it what you will, “Heng Erling laughed. “Brace yourself, for you shall be the first to perish at my hand, and that cursed Lord Asger isn’t going anywhere, either.  He forsook his own flesh and blood son Ivar Marrog Zhon, in place of you and, while you grew up in relative safety and comfort in that mountain cabin, his son from infancy has been languishing in a dark, foul dungeon beneath the Capital, never knowing a day without torture.”

“Hah, you think him a noble Lord, but in all these years, he never strove or mustered able men to rescue his own flesh and blood; instead, he cowered like a spineless fiend, biding his time and nourishing dreams of glorious return on your coattails, in that mountain retreat?”

“I’ve heard enough out of you. How dare you malign uncle, a noble Lord with your false, delusions; is there no end to your treachery?”  Nevetsecnuac brandishing his sword, raced towards him with the ferocity of a tiger.

All during the ensued fight Nevetsecnuac tried desperately to repute Heng Erling’s shocking revelations (disclosed facts) about Lord Asger’s forsaken son; unbidden however, certain facts too swiftly rushed to mind validating some of it, such as the seemingly benign incident in the “Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple”. Nevetsecnuac recalled all too vividly, Asger’s (Stark’s) accidental inclusion of the name “Ivar Marrog Zhon” in the list, before his quickly erasing it. And recently still, when at the stables Alec, rather Heng, had made the mention of Asger’s son, Nevetsecnuac recalled, how he was curtly stopped. Nevetsecnuac’s conscience thus troubled him as he fought two wars within and without; therefore, for a time Nevetsecnuac’s prowess had been hampered while he fended off Heng’s repetitive, fierce offensives.

Heng with his physiological warfare, thus, once or twice had almost got the upper hand and very nearly vanquished Nevetsecnuac. On one instance, Nevetsecnuac back flipped to escape the brunt of the blade that instead, cut a razor slice across his chest.  Rebounding quickly however, for Nevetsecnuac’s admiration and love for his uncle, Lord Asger was infinite; he had again picked up the momentum and very nearly bested Heng.

Equally resilient Heng withstood these offensives with his remarkable strength, skill and agility; meanwhile, encouraged by the prior result, again he strove to further disarm Nevetsecnuac.

“Some say Ivar Marrog Zhon has been kept alive, barely, as a ruse to draw the traitor from his secretive lair, but our Sovereign could not have known the heartlessness of this Lord,”

Heng spat the word Asger, as he continued with his deadly strikes.

“Some hero; he ran away in the heat of the battle, while his castle, his lands were being besieged, forsook his obligation to his father’s bloodline, for the likes of you? Answer me this, does Lord Asger hold aspirations of grandeur, thinking of the day of your being reinstated to power?  Fool, as if that would ever happen!”

“You know nothing of the truth.” Nevetsecnuac could not help but bellowed back, even though grasping Heng’s sly strategy, he had already resolved to maintain inner composure while concentrating an all-out effort at defeating this very dangerous, and cunning   adversary.

  “As for your beautiful wife, when I’m done with you both, she'll make a fine present for His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek to defile and torture.  Eunuch Egil Viggoaries can (devour) chew on the bones of your twins afterwards!"  Undeterred, Heng threw his head back in a monstrous laugh.

Despite his doggedness, Nevetsecnuac felt as though ice water had been poured all over his steaming body.  At the same time inexplicable sorrow had seeped into his heart as he, a recent dad, grasped the full implications of Lord Asger’s supreme sacrifice.

Fiery contempt for Heng flamed in Nevetsecnuac’s chest and filled his spleen with rage.  Grinding his teeth, he reviled Heng, and at lightning   speed he again powerfully struck the other.  They clashed, weapons thrusting, flailing against each other.  During this deadly exchange (skirmish) Nevetsecnuac suddenly realized that Heng had concealed his true abilities at all prior confrontations; in fact, his fighting skills were most formidable, far more formidable than Duan’s.  With the added advantages of incorporating Nevetsecnuac's fighting style alongside his, he had now become a most fierce (challenging) adversary, a virtually invincible opponent.

 Lord Asger would be disappointed in me and appalled, all with good reason. Nevetsecnuac bowed his head in shame. How could I, with all my years of training, allow myself to be so completely duped? Fueled by this added indignation and ire, with his unleashed innate (inherent) survival instincts Nevetsecnuac was instantaneously transformed into an intrepid, more indomitable warrior. 

Presently, with such ardent, livid antagonists, the earth shook (trembled) from the ferocity of their combat. Limbs of trees fractured or splintered, surrounding foliage and the like were all pulverized or destroyed, rocks, boulders were smashed to bits, split apart or uprooted, as the intense conflict ceaselessly continued.

Lasting all night, after countless rounds of pitched battle, still neither of them could gain the upper hand.  Each time Nevetsecnuac lunged at Heng his thrust was nimbly parried and each blow of Heng's was warded off with little room to spare.

Finally, Heng made an ill-timed thrust at Nevetsecnuac's heart and Nevetsecnuac, with incredible dexterity, spun around it and, twisting his opponent's sword hand, forced Heng to tumble to the ground, dropping his weapon.  Heng rolled then somersaulted to avoid the assault that followed, at the same time retrieving (grabbing) his weapon and landing back on his feet to immediately hack back at Nevetsecnuac.  Again, each attack was parried, each blow warded off, till the force and lightening   rapidity of the strikes barely managed, took its toll on Heng and at one point having lost his grip, his sword flew off his hand aching across the sky to land, rather, be buried in the midst of the nearby lake.

 Heng stood, defenseless, glaring at Nevetsecnuac.

"Ask for mercy", Nevetsecnuac shouted, "and I'll spare your life."

"I'll see you in hell, first!"  Heng swore and darted towards his horse. 

"Stop your running   and fight, you cowardly fiend!" Nevetsecnuac had raced after Heng.

Heng’s stallion spooked by this sudden charge however, had bolted and neighing wildly, nearly trampled Heng under his hooves. But not before had Heng retrieved something he’d needed from the secret compartment of the saddle.

As Heng fell back he quickly tugged the items under his waist wrap; he grumbled a curse on his breath while his eyes briefly trailed his horse galloping into the distance.

Heng swerved (veered) and looked askance at the other but knew better than to try approaching Fiery Comet; resigned to his fate, perfectly composed, he then turned to face Nevetsecnuac.

Now all this had transpired in the blinking of an eye.

 "Cowardly?  Who's the coward here? I dare you to fight without your precious sword!" Heng at this point, defiantly hollered back.

As it was, Nevetsecnuac's code of honor constrained him from striking an unarmed man.  "That suits me fine.” he tossed the sword aside and rushed to engage Heng in hand-to-hand combat.

They fought seemingly endlessly, with such force, such adroitness, the like of which was unseen in any mortal man.  Again, the surrounding area became the casualty of this intense battle. Perfectly matched, the hand-to-hand combat would have lasted forever and ever, but Heng was fast nearing his patience, and sought to bring a quick resolution to this obvious impasse.

And so, after his deadly strike, in an unexpected maneuver, Heng turned tail and fled, as he ran, he withdrew handful of tiny razor-sharp metal spikes with poisoned tips, from beneath his waist wrap, then while still running   he half turned and hurled them with lightning   speed at Nevetsecnuac.

 With incredible agility, Nevetsecnuac dodged the deadly spikes’ course, and the metal spikes continued, flew by and buried their heads in the same ancient tree that his sword had once sliced.

 “Blast!!”  Heng cursed under his breath, as he same time, taking advantage of Nevetsecnuac's momentary distraction, in lightning speed, retrieved the other concealed poisoned stiletto from his high leather boot.

First, he allowed Nevetsecnuac to catch up then, whirling, Heng swiftly (longlined it) thrust the blade into Nevetsecnuac’s chest, having held no qualms at all about killing an unarmed foe.

Failing in this, for Nevetsecnuac’s quick action hurled it from his hand and buried it into the midst of thick, thorny bush, Heng somersaulted, shot through the air and dove right into the frigid waters of the lake. He was gone from view only for a spell, emerging shortly after brandishing the blade in his hand; he landed squarely in front of Nevetsecnuac who was rushing to retrieve his discarded sword.  Unarmed Nevetsecnuac with sure proficiency fended of the deadly assault then swiftly arriving at the spot where he had discarded his sword earlier, he nimbly kicked it to waist height with his toe, grabbed it without breaking stride and turned to parry Heng's murderous slash.

Again, they fought for another twenty to thirty rounds but this time, despite his prowess, Heng, chilled to the bone, began to falter.  In contrast, Nevetsecnuac maintained his speed and agility and wielded his weapon with such consummate skill that, in the end, he cut a three-inch-deep swath under Heng's ribs.

Heng froze in mid-parry then collapsed to the ground in a swelling pool of crimson.  Blood and curses spat from Heng's lips, each breath making him writhe in agony as he muttered bitter recriminations against his own impatience, arrogance and folly in underestimating Nevetsecnuac's competence.

"If only I had waited for the reinforcements and been content letting the axman take your head.  I've failed miserably.  My life's ambition has been frustrated."  Hot tears mixed with the blood on Heng's cheeks.

"My doomed father, forgive me.  I've condemned you to an eternity of torment, wearing the chains of ignominy, in the underworld!  My beloved ill-fated mother, Lingrace, forgive me, oh how I have failed you both!”

 Heng swallowed hard, thinking the rest.

Oh mother, you forsook your virtue and bore such shame during all those years you suffered the lustful, lecherous pawing of Zakhertan Yozdek.  You debased yourself as attendant at his wife's feet, just so I could live and avenge my father's death. Please mother, don’t curse me forever; find it in your heart to forgive, to absolve me of my failings for I’ve done my best, always have; unfortunately, the fiendish foes are backed by powerful demons. With Heaven forsaking the good, I was doomed to fail.

This was the only version Heng had desperately clanged to, always believing in his heart of hearts that his supposed angelic, saintly mother had been forced into that compromising situation, in order that her son's life was spared and also that the scant hope was kept alive, the prospect and the sole aspiration of avenging her husband’s untimely, ignominious death! 

Ensuing years of her coercion Zakhertan  Yozdek had been, by degrees, spared from any and all blame; instead, intense hatred and animosity had been fueled and then deferred to that vilified Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and Prince Nevetsecnuac.

 In blind faith Heng envisioned his mother, to his dying breath, as a self-sacrificing, tragic, victimized and molested heroine, rather than the deceitful, conniving and ambitious woman that she was. 

How could Heng face the ugly truth and keep intact his sanity?  How could his tormented mind surmise, the underlying, contemptible sole reason, that he had been spared for the horrific, sickeningly gruesome demises of his elder siblings, all because his mother had, long before the usurpation, covertly had intimate liaison with Zakhertan  Yozdek. And that suspicion, the question of Heng's paternity, was what had excluded him from the executioner’s block (gallows) or fate worse than death.

 How could Heng have guessed at the root of deceit that ran so deep in his mother that, on this day, when he was sacrificing his own life not to avenge his father's death, but rather to further her underhanded, selfish desire to ingratiate herself back into Zakhertan's good graces.  And that was the sole reason she had hired covertly this assassin Duan and constrained him to take her son Heng along for the ride.

 In the meantime, despite the treachery, contempt and duplicity all that had passed between them, Nevetsecnuac, had felt certain compassion for this dying man, curled up in excruciating pain on the ground. And so, he leaned over to ask, “Can I do anything to ease your pain?"

"You can rot in hell; whelp!"  Heng's face contorted in pain at the effort it took to curse.

"I suppose there is no rebellion either,” Nevetsecnuac grumbled as he looked away, understanding the full scope of his deception.

"Haa, ha, haak!," blood welling up in Heng's throat cut short his sarcastic laugh.

 He spat it out at Nevetsecnuac and gritted his teeth in contempt. 

“That’s right, fool.  There are no rebels, no battles. The Generals lead an army of the dead.  Ha, ha, ugghh!" 

Pain again cut short his laughter as he uttered his last words with regret, “Pity that I should be the one to die, not you.  Heaven is not just."

Nevetsecnuac looked away to hide his surging emotions because he had been dealt with a crushing blow.  The lack of rebellion was not the cause of his turmoil, his deep dismay; however, rather, it was the knowledge of Lord Asger’s forsaken son.  So much had happened during these last few months. With those entire facts in a streamline racing through his mind, he plumped his seat down listlessly beside the lifeless body of Heng.

A great deal of reality had altered. He was not the person he thought he was, neither was his uncle. He’d grown up with, albeit necessary deception. As the past life in quick succession once more flashed before his mind’s eye, it resolved all that mystery he’d grown up with; so much more made sense now.

In one fell swoop many of his life’s queries had been answered.  But worst of it was the knowledge, how his beloved uncle, Lord Asger had sacrificed and endured such hardships and pain all on his behalf.

He shuddered at the thought of another innocent being, sacrificed and forsaken, worst still, imprisoned at infancy, forced to endure such torment, all because of him.

Lord Asger Marrog Zhon had sent Nevetsecnuac on, albeit with some reserve, hoping against hope that there would be some truth to Heng’s claims.  Looking at his bloodied sword, Nevetsecnuac recollected the entirety of his oath to self and Lord Asger; so, he sat, eyes cast on the ground, staring aimlessly in silent, pained concentration. 

He’d sworn the oath not to return without exacting vengeance, on behalf of all those living or perished souls. Heng’s treachery aside, Nevetsecnuac could not dismiss the fact that, Lord Asger’s son to date languished in some dark dreary dungeon.

 With lowered head, Nevetsecnuac ground his teeth and clenched his fist as he seethed.

  If he were to return, Asger would never let him go on this perilous rescue mission.

Teuquob and his bellowed children, their dependence on him could sway his determination. But how could he last another day, knowingly perpetuating this unethical, immoral feat (act)?  Lord Asger had sacrificed so much… Least he could do, is try, try to rectify this grave injustice and reunite him with his flesh and blood son!

Suddenly he knew the action he must take to make all these wrongs right. He could only estimate the scope of difficulty, the unforeseen challenges of his chosen (decided) course, but same time he knew it was the only honorable thing to do.

Springing to his feet, he threw both arms into the air and let out an earth-shaking roar

“Heaven bear witness to my new vow (pledge), whatever the cost; I shall exact vengeance on the Usurper Zakhertan Yozdek for all the wrongdoings he’s committed and, reunite Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon with his son Ivar Marrog Zhon.”

Nevetsecnuac afterwards (next) with meticulous care buried Heng Erling’s corpse under some rocks, poured libation (offering the entirety of wine which Heng had kept in animal skin vessel/container, and used it sparingly, since the time he’d accompanied Duan) over his grave and said some prayers for his soul.       

 At that moment in time, the first light of day broke; Nevetsecnuac’s eyes beheld a phantasm dragon suddenly manifest in the crimson sky, which it then quickly sailed on by amidst red clouds, till it dissipated.  

Nevetsecnuac thoughtfully nodded, then unable to stand still a moment longer he, vaulting into Fiery Comet's saddle, galloped the steed in the direction of the morning sun.

(THE END OF SECTION 17 – THE CONCLUSION OF THE ASSASSIONS)