LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 35

The cloaked figure had appeared before him out of nowhere, Lance Diostin sizing up this unmistakably, imposing warrior brandishing his sword, threw his head back and laughed venomously.  "And who are you supposed to be, dressed up as ‘The Avenging Ghost?’  Why this absurd, masquerade?"

"You are more accurate in your description than you imagine, sir; but it could not be helped." The cloaked figure laughed back and shrugged then assumed a more serious demeanor.

 "I have no quarrel with you personally, fact is, captain Zunrogo has not outlived his usefulness; so be warned, I can be your benefactor or your nemesis, depending on your choice.  All I ask is that you forego your intention to end his life, and then perhaps, I can be persuaded to spare your life."

"How magnanimous of you…  How fortunate for me that you are considering sparing me.  Look, I'm trembling in fear." Lance Diostin responded with a sneer.

01-LANCE DIOSTIN JP 13

"Spare my life indeed!  A mortal is not yet born who can defeat me.  Tell His Lordship to go to blazes!"  He launched into a murderous assault, bringing his full fighting skill against the cloaked figure.

"His Lordship?" the figure parried Lance Diostin’s thrusts with ease.

"Don't play dumb with me!"  Infuriated, Lance Diostin fought with the fierceness of a tiger and the swiftness of a whirlwind, leaving no room for any further discussion or opportunity for truce.

This time, however, it was Lance Diostin who was clearly outmatched.  The ensuing pitched exchange was brief.  Too late, the invincibility of the cloaked figure was revealed to him but by then, in the blink of an eye, Lance Diostin found himself on the receiving end of a magnificent, powerful strike which left him unarmed, with his magnificent sword cast aside, shockingly almost insensate (unconscious, numbed, almost paralyzed) and near mortally wounded, at (inches from) the other's feet.  A dry, death rattle in his throat, still defiant, he demanded to know the identity of this worthy opponent who had bested him.  The figure, however, simply shook his head, and said: “Truth will be disclosed, when we face each other next. You are a great warrior with invincible prowess; therefore, I’m averse to the idea of heedlessly (recklessly, rashly) terminating your life.” He nodded, “first, however, I must have your word that you will, forsaking your aim, leave your sword behind and swiftly depart (flee). I have no doubt you equally excel in swimming and therefore, will reach the shore in safety, despite your (injures) wounds?”

Lance Diostin was intrigued with his opponent’s magnanimous gesture; besides which, a chance to again duel with this invincible foe was an enticement enough to convince him to at present capitulate, so reluctantly he nodded his head, acceding (ascending, agreeing) to the cloaked figure’s terms (stipulations, conditions).

“But how will I know it’s you, when I encounter you in the future?” He then, as if in afterthought, asked. The cloaked figure after a pensive thought, nodded, “Very well I will reveal my identity to you, if you wow (swear) to keeping it a secret from everyone, till then.”

Lance Diostin, who was famed for his honorable character (unblemished reputation), readily concurred and gave his solemn promise; however, nothing had prepared him for the shocking revelation he was about to witness next. He was absolutely aghast and his eyes wide with disbelief continued to stare at his opponent’s face that had been only briefly revealed to him. Lance Diostin, despite the intense pain, pulled himself upright as he chuckled and then, turning to face this remarkable being, shook his head. “Oh, you are good. You had me, had all of us, so completely duped!”

“Considering your impaired physical state, are you certain you can safely reach the shore?” The cloaked figure, disregarding this, impatiently asked and, having received another nod, and lance’s words, “I wouldn’t miss, not for anything, our next encounter.” Stepped aside to allow Lance Diostin to walk past him.  The cloaked figure’s eyes impassively (cooly) then followed Lance, who despite his grave injuries, with remarkable resilience, swiftly advanced to the edge of the deck.

Lance Diostin half turned his head, his gaze unreadable, to simply say, “Capital Channing is the domain (sphere) of ultimate (supreme) jeopardy (hazard, risk, peril) keep that in mind and stay safe; I bid you farewell, till our next encounter (combat, contest).”

02- LANCE DIOSTIN JP 18

Then nimbly, with a fluid grace dove off the edge, to quickly be engulfed (plunged, rushed) by the choppy waters of the river.

The cloaked figure lingered at the spot for a moment or two then pensively nodded his head, and turning away, precipitously advanced his steps down the stairs, to below deck; as he rushed down the corridor towards his cabin, he came face to face with another cloaked figure brandishing a bloody sword.

“Who the hell are you?” Bellowed the other masked, formidable opponent but then not waiting for an answer, he launched his murderous attack.

“No matter, you must die!”

 He was in fact the covert affiliate of a secret Brotherhood; known as Kaelan, who’d been all this time posing as one of the ordinary crewmen, called Zack, on board this vessel, going about undetected. One of the best agents of Kozurs, working as a double spy, had as well, carried orders from Lance Diostin to undermine Zunrogo’s plans.

Kaelan’s blade was dripping with blood as he’d just fought his way against the barricade, butchering countless to advance towards his objective. He had attacked Disaidun Agripe, dealt her a near mortal blow then reaching beneath her bodice (the upper part of woman’s dress or undergarment that covers the upper body), stole the letter from the secret pocket. The original one secured on him, he’d then replaced hers with the fake (bogus) letter.

Kaelan’s surplus orders had been, to deal with or, to cooperate (assist) with Lance Diostin, depending on the circumstances (outcome) back on deck, after Lance had incapacitated (vanquished) Zunrogo and the Lieutenant. He was rushing there to fight, rather, to inform Lance of the amended orders, that there was no longer any need to destroy the vessel along with everyone on board. A highly competent double agent, Kaelan’s real objective (the letter being switched) done, he was then simply to disappear for an indetermined period, supposedly, to report back (not just to Kozurs but also) to Black Molochs. 

The sudden encounter with this unknown masked man with his blade tainted with blood revealed to Kaelan that, something had gone terribly awry (amiss, wrong). 

An awful thought just then crossed Kaelan’s mind, as there were no sounds of battle above, in fact all was perfectly quiet. Still no time to worry, he’d launched his murderous assault to deal with, rather vanquish, this unexpected adversary (foe). But as the two fought on it soon became clear to Kaelan, just who the victor would be; the covert crewman ceasing an only opportunity, took to his heals with the enemy hot in pursuit. Once on deck, the quick fleeting look (glance) told Kaelan of the dire situation, rushing to the edge, he dove straight off the boat to disappear in the turbulent, foamy waters. A Good strong swimmer he was gone from sight within minutes. The other masked warrior, abandoning pursuit, quickly returned to his cabin.

                                                                                  ~

 

When the blackness lifted, Zunrogo with hazy eyes spotted (saw), Lance Diostin’s discarded heirloom sword in a pool of blood just a few feet away, and even though there was no sign of Lance Diostin, corpse or otherwise anywhere to be seen, he still presumed of Lance’s certain demise and sharply sat up.

Looking at his own bloodied sword, then back at Lance Diostin’s discarded blade, then over to Tizan who was still unconscious and collapsed against the mast, Zunrogo was now puzzled.  Unable to recollect (remember) exactly what or how it happened, he pieced all the probable set of circumstances, clues and facts to conclude that he must have somehow, before he lost consciousness, had dealt his opponent Lance Diostin, the mortal blow at the edge of the deck, and his corpse must have tumbled into the fast flowing waters of the river. Ignoring the painful throbbing top of his head and temples, he slowly rose to his feet and tottered over to pick up Lance Diostin’s heirloom sword, the irrefutable proof of the foe’s demise.

03- LANCE DIOSTIN'S DISCARDED HEIRLOOM-SWORD

Studying the blade’s edge and noticing a fissure (cleft) in it, he wondered, “Such force… Could I have done that? Did I slew him?” he marveled, wondering, as his fingers lightly traced the obvious indentation (crack, cleft, fracture). 

The next instant his face fell in a frown, “This is terrible…This is not what supposed to have happened. Blast!”  Besides, he needed Lance Diostin alive for questioning.

“How could I have been so reckless, or driven to such desperation, to have taken this adverse course? Yet I cannot recollect how …” Baffled by the mystery and angry at this obvious set-back, he gingerly caressed the large, pulsating bump on the back of his head then brought his hand around to look with a disconcerted eye at his blood-soaked fingers.

 “Strange, I clearly remember how I got this wound but everything after that my mind is a complete blank.”

He shook his head.  “Ouch!  Don't do that again.”  He inwardly admonished self, for his carelessness.

Zunrogo’s brief scrutiny of his body revealed numerous lacerations, gashes, and bruises, none of which were particularly serious, except one on his left thigh.  He made a mental note to have this one sewn up, for the gash was too deep for the flesh to bind on its own.  Thank goodness it’d missed the blood vessel!  For now, he tore some strips off his shirt and wrapped them tightly around the wound to stop the bleeding as he looked once more at Lance Diostin’s sword.  He remembered how he had got this wound as well.

“Why is my memory so selectively clouded about the last set of events?  What in blazes happened?”  This mental fog was most disconcerting for him.

Just then Tizan's stirring drew Zunrogo's attention.  Rushing over to the Lieutenant's side, he knelt and helped Tizan sit up.

 "I thought I'd lost you for good; now there, take it easy."  His manner was unusually friendly.

"You can't get rid of me that easily." Tizan smiled, echoing of the captain's good humor.  Then an unexpected, faint groan escaped his lips, “Uggh…The hammering in my head!" 

Shamefaced, Tizan gave a darting glance at Zunrogo, for in all these years this was the first time Tizan had complained about anything.

"So, you're made of flesh and blood after all." Zunrogo affectionately patted Tizan's shoulder then rose to his feet with a grimace.

Tizan's eye fell on Lance Diostin’s heirloom sword.  "You have his sword; is he dead, Captain?"

04--TZAN JP

"Deader than a doornail." came the dispassionate answer from Zunrogo.

"Well then, sir, your reputation should be greatly enhanced after this."

 Disregarding the pain shooting across his chest, Tizan picked himself up off of the deck.

"More than you can imagine." Zunrogo donned (gave) a grin of satisfaction.

"But I thought you wanted him alive?"  Tizan ripped off his wet shirt and unbuckled his breastplate.

"It couldn't be helped." Zunrogo shrugged, his gaze still fixed on Lance Diostin’s sword.

"But how did you manage it?  If you don't mind my saying so, the last I recall you were in dire straits.  He was on the point of vanquishing you."

Tizan's direct question hit home as he again recalled that same time.  “How indeed… Yet somehow, I had turned the evil tide in my favor and changed the outcome. I’m here, aren’t I?” Zunrogo pensively looked away. 

“Too bad I can't recollect any details.” Zunrogo then simply shrugged and said no more.

“The concussion must have caused this temporary amnesia (memory loss). Though it’s most irritating,” Zunrogo inwardly reasoned, “perhaps it’ll all come back, soon, I hope. Hah, meanwhile, my nemesis is dead.”  He took comfort in that thought and walked to the edge of the deck, looked down then cast his gaze far, at the barely visible snaking shoreline perimeter of the (wide) vast expanse of the fast-flowing river.

"Perhaps, Captain, when things are straightened out, you will enlighten me as to how you defeated so competent a foe." Tizan misinterpreted Zunrogo's reluctance as modesty, had snuck up behind him, to add; he thereon continued to be a pesky nuisance.

Looking back to his Lieutenant, Zunrogo nodded distractedly then smiled wryly when he saw how oblivious Tizan was to the pain of the multiple cuts and bruises on his limbs and chest.  His eye caught one slash, that was bleeding profusely.

 "You'd best take care of that wound." he pointed it out with his chin.

"I still have plenty of blood to spare." Tizan pressed his shirt against it observing more closely Lance’s heirloom-sword, which Zunrogo still held onto.  When he caught sight of the indentation at the edge of blade, he let out his breath in a long, involuntary gasp, "Wow!"

He looked up at Zunrogo, with an admiring gaze.  “Had he really done this?  I had no idea he could muster such force.”

Zunrogo ignored his reaction, looked around him and commented thoughtfully, "We have quite a bit of cleaning up to do, Tizan.  Do you think you're up to the task?"

"And why not…  Since when few cuts and bruises ever slowed me down, Captain?  I'm no old woman!"  Tizan indignantly sprung to his feet but the profuse bleeding from his wound constrained him, nonetheless, to do something about it.  Cutting some more strips, this time from the shirt of one of the corpses, he wound them tightly around his wound, giving it a haphazard, but effective, dressing.  At least now he could work unhindered.  He knew what had to be done without being told and he set too with closest perimeter, following the set routine, piling up the carcasses in (heaps) groups of two or three and finding heavy objects to tie them for weight.  He was ready to tackle the next batch (of corpses further away), when Zunrogo grasped his arm.

"No, Tizan, all this can wait."  He indicated with a nod of his head for Tizan to follow, as he swiftly (descended the stairs and) disappeared below decks.

 

 

(END OF SECTION 35)                                                                                                  ~

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 34

It had been quite a row, a real humdinger of a fight, all right!  He couldn't have been much more than nine or ten, but Tizan was well enough developed for his age to, at long last, hold his own against that brute.  “He had rebelled soon enough, though, hadn't he?”

From the age of seven he had relentlessly fought back each time his stepfather had taken to drink and viciously turned on him. Had his father not died or that his mother did not re-marry, he had always wondered, perhaps things might have been different. 

Tzan had suffered greatly; as far back as he could remember, all through his childhood in fact, with many beatings, constant verbal abuse and endless torment at the hands of his stepfather Zianko. (First mentioned in Book 1 - Fisherman’s Prize- Section 3)

 

01-  ZIANKO

No man could be more vicious to a child.   The vile brute Zianko was a heartless, greedy, selfish dog! Then came the day on which Tzan’d been an eyewitness to Zianko’s murdering his mother. Perhaps the only time she’d stood up to him, fighting desperately to uphold her son’s right to inherit her former husband’s estate. But no one took any notice of Tizan’s claims or accusations, for Zianko had already arranged to make it look like a perfect, irrefutable accident. Shortly after, Tizan had suddenly fallen deadly ill, and very nearly died, but he had recovered, in time to learn, that his stepfather Zianko had been cleared of all charges. Meanwhile secretly from then on, the brute had conspired to murder him (Tizan) before he reached the age of twelve.

On that night, two months before he was to turn twelve, their brawling had reached a peak when that beast Zianko, unable to gain advantage with his hands alone, had taken up an oar and struck a hard, brutal blow at Tizan’s temple, knocking him out cold.  When Tizan regained consciousness in small hours of the night, he'd at once secretly taken off, preferring the unknown dangers of the mountainous forest to certain, slow death at his stepfather Zianko’s hands. Just before he left, he, looking back on the fishing village, had inwardly vowed to someday kill Zianko if he ever came across him again.

 

                                                                                  ~

 

Tizan now looked back out at the spot where the boat had been short time before, his eye catching the first of the mangled wreckage bob up to the surface.  For a moment he imagined that it was his stepfather’s boat and each of the bodies it took to the bottom with it was Zianko, killed repeatedly.  The image gave him little satisfaction, but it was the best he could muster at present. Even after many years of intense loathing, same seething, all-consuming abhorrence of Zianko still coursed through his veins.

“Odd that I'd remember Zianko now,” Tizan turned his attention back to the pitched battle still raging between captain Zunrogo Tugo and Lance Diostin.

“Devils take me!  How could I have frittered away (waste) all that time, with just reminiscing… where’s my good sense?”  His guts were gnawed by self-reproach. 

 

02--TZAN JP

In truth, the squandered time had only been no more than a heartbeat.

Snatching a sword from the nearest corpse and carving a deliberate course, Tizan rushed into the fray, wanting to fight alongside Zunrogo; but the dizzying and intense speed (never once dwindling), skill and agility with which Zunrogo and Lance Diostin fought, interlocked as they were in that kind of a continuous, sound combat, did not afford Tizan least opportunity (opening) to intercede.

Unrelenting, Tizan kept mental notes on Lance Diostin’s unique fighting style and any potential weakness in his offensives as he combatted other foes; all the while, he sought an opportunity to intervene with a well-placed strike at Lance Diostin.

He gradually lost heart when he observed how flawlessly Lance executed his offensives without giving up an inch of his defensive position.  Lance had no failings of any kind.  Though captain Zunrogo was the most competent fighter Tizan had known, Zunrogo was dwarfed in martial skills by his invincible opponent and even was forced into maintaining only a defensive course for much of the time.

Tizan, meanwhile, had soon run out of opponents to fight, and he stood looking about, surrounded by heaps of corpses, for least sign of life for which to extinguish. Disappointed he turned his attention back to the only ongoing action (contesting duo).

“Strange,” Tizan mused, observing how there’d been few instances during which a flaw in Zunrogo's defenses had left an opening, a perfect opportunity for a strike, yet his opponent Lance Diostin had ignored these obvious advantages.

“Oh, he’s so shrewd; adroit that he is, is he just toying with the captain?”

 Tizan inwardly questioned Lance Diostin’s motive, while at the same time with a sinking feeling, grew (became) skeptical of Zunrogo’s ability for the first time ever.  “He’s not invincible after all, is this the mentor I've sworn an unconditional allegiance to?”

Before he could follow up on his doleful, glum (gloomy, woeful) thoughts, the rarest opportunity just then had presented itself.  Lance had for a split second let his guard down, allowing slight vulnerability in his rear.  Fearlessly, Tizan jumped into the fray, recklessly not giving his brain (his senses) apt time to grasp (comprehend, gather) that Lance Diostin might have deliberately and with specific design, slackened off just enough to afford him (Tizan) this rare chance.

"The more the merrier!" warding off both sets of blows, Lance Diostin threw his head back and laughed; he then set to with equal equanimity and deadly precision, simultaneously attacking both Zunrogo and Tizan. 

"For a moment there, I thought that you would turn tail and run, Lieutenant.  Now, at least, I have a more even match.  I wouldn't want to be accused of taking unfair advantage of Captain Zunrogo here.  Oh, let me thank you, sir, for your invaluable service in ridding me of that excess baggage back there…. ha, ha!"

Lance talked and fought with equal ease; meanwhile, Lance Diostin’s fluid, swift maneuvers strained both his opponents’ defensives, their ability to the brink and, at the same time, restricted their corresponding strikes. By all accounts, Lance Diostin wasn't even trying all that hard.

 

03-LANCE DIOSTIN JP 12

Bristling at his arrogance, both Zunrogo and Tizan intensified their efforts and succeeded in, for an instant, turning the battle to the offensive.  Yet, despite their perfectly orchestrated, deadly onslaught, they still could not weaken or best Lance Diostin.

Lance Diostin’s amusement faltered after a while and he picked up momentum, wielding his sword with lightning speed and deadly effect.  He redoubled his offensive strikes with unyielding power, strength and unsurpassed cunning and agility, striking at places where there seemed to be no opening, piercing defenses that appeared flawless.  This intense, pitched fighting continued for a short spell though for Zunrogo and Tizan it seemed to be an eternity.

The two, finding themselves in dire straits, fought on with all their might but were unable to keep their adversary at bay.  They were hanging on only by the skin of their teeth.  Then, while fending off a deadly thrust by Zunrogo, Lance Diostin swiftly twirled and landed a good, swift kick squarely on Tizan's chest.  It was fortunate that Tizan had not discarded his armor, otherwise his ribs, which took the brunt of this attack, would have been instantly pulverized.  Still, the force of the blow was enough to hurl him right across the deck and into the mast, where he slumped down, unconscious.  Tizan was still not out of danger, for Lance had raced to follow his flying body and was at the point of decapitating his helpless form in the next heartbeat.

Zunrogo, putting on an all-out effort, had leapt over to the mast and, in the nick of time, intervened with deadly force to block Lance Diostin’s strike.

 Taking a stance between Lance and the Lieutenant Tzan, Zunrogo hurled curses, dares and taunting assaults while strategically retreating, (to lure) to draw Lance Diostin away from Tizan towards an un-sprung trap further down the deck.  This, Zunrogo perceived, would be his best hope of besting his nemesis.

However, it proved ineffectual.  Lance Diostin was too insightful, too clever to be caught unawares by the deadly snare.  In fact, with an agile maneuver, Lance forced Zunrogo to spring the trap.  Zunrogo escaped, only with a hairsbreadth, as the hurtling blade flew past the side of his neck to land in the river.  Zunrogo had trained himself to never ever consider defeat during a battle and so, he continued to fight in a desperate all-out struggle.

Lance Diostin clearly could have annihilated the captain at any time but, again, he slackened off on his assaults, clearly deriving a particular pleasure from toying with his eventual victim.  "Well, my friend", Lance hissed, "I must thank you for affording me this wonderful practice session.  It is only rarely that I get to use my full skills these days.  You see, once I reach my full potential (ability), my opponents invariably end up dead and, of course, it would be unwise of me to leave any witnesses to circulate reports of my true skill.  Good sparring partners are hard to find, you know.  So, you, sir, may go to your death knowing that your worthless life has, indeed, served some small purpose.”

Zunrogo realized too late how he had been led to mortally (fatally) underestimating Lance Diostin's true prowess.  Had he but known, he could have deployed more powerful reinforcements, adopted more effective means, engaged in diversionary tactics, or considered retreat, to just live to fight another day.

 

04- ZUNROGO AND lANCE DIOSTIN CLOSE COMBAT

As it stood, he was failing miserably.  He knew he had only himself to blame for this grave oversight.  He had been well versed in military strategy and should have perceived the possibility of this deception by Lance Diostin and taken measures to guard against it.  Lance Diostin’s adaptation of the age-old ruse had been flawless and Zunrogo, like the many others who preceded him, had been properly duped, lulled into a false sense of security right up to the very end before being totally, and irrevocably vanquished.

There was no time for self-reproach or remorse.  Just as Zunrogo was about to modify his strategy to one of escape at any cost, Lance launched a whirlwind assault that instantly incapacitated him.  He could feel the world going black as he fought to strike back.

Grinning cruelly, Lance Diostin lifted his magnificent sword high above his head, setting up the one powerful, lightning stroke that would slice through Zunrogo's neck like a harpoon through a jellyfish.  He let go of the stroke, the sword arched through the air in firm descending course, backing it up with all his force.

The blade’s course midway was stopped cold however, never reaching Zunrogo's neck as if it had hit a solid rock; furthermore, the shock wave traveled back up the sword and through Lance Diostin’s whole body.

"What the hell?" glowering, Lance Diostin jumped back and turned to assess the opponent still brandishing the sword that had blocked his fierce, deadly aim (blow).

                                                                                           ~

 

 (END OF SECTION 34)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL – SECTION 31

Had Disaidun Agripe known what really was at stake, how many conditions were to be added to the end of his statement, she would have (fled as if her life depended on it) run and kept on running.  Imagining only the best, however, she again thanked him profusely and promised, "Oh, you'll see how appreciative I can be."

01-DISAIDUN AGRIPE JP 23

Then she remembered the other condition and asked. "What was the second thing you wished me to do?"

"Oh, nothing particularly hard.” he smiled.  "You know the situation we face."

 He waited to hear her answer, then gave an entirely different account as to the reasons behind the anticipated, armed assault.

There were just two grains of truth in this fiction (story) he fed her: one, the foe in the pursuing vessel was fast gaining on them and two, the expected engagement would be at noon of the following day as soon as the fog had lifted.

 "Your part in all of this will be is, to guard the entrance to the cabins on the lower decks, when the assault starts.  You will be, of course, positioned behind a strong, impenetrable barricade and though it is highly doubtful that anyone could break through, in the likelihood that they do, it will be your responsibility to intercept (block) them."

"It is then my task to protect the Scholar Norek," she strove to impress Zunrogo but was met with a blank stare.

Disaidun Agripe obviously had no inkling of the scholar's importance or his identity.  "Why do you ask?"  He was curious to find out how she arrived at her notion.

Her answer was expectedly, tritely dull.  "Oh, I’d just overheard Captain Doku whispering something about him to another shipmate.  The rest of their conversation, beyond his name, was incomprehensible, I’m afraid.  I have also noticed how vigilant you and that big fellow Tizan are in guarding him.  I don't wish to pry (meddle), but is Norek's life in danger from these pursuers?"  She still pushed, even though she knew better.

 

"Let’s just say that his work is highly controversial and offensive to some crude individuals, whose ill-breeding overhaul (outstrip) their aesthetic sense." Zunrogo brushed her question away, with a wave of his hand.

Disaidun Agripe did not buy any of this but wisely desisted pursuing the matter. “There will be ample time in future, to understand his reasons for this deception.” She falsely believed.

"Of course, you must be armed.  Are you adept (capable) in handling swords, and also, the crossbow?  Perhaps you may prefer a machete or an axe at close quarters."

"I have been trained in all of them." she boasted.  "I will use whatever you think is best."

"I think the crossbow will be more ideal in stopping those, capable enough to breach the barricade.  You can also utilize a knife, if it’s warranted, in such close quarters."

"And what of the other entrance?" she asked, trying to impress him.

When Zunrogo looked at her sharply she beamed, sure she had one up on him, "The secret passage, behind the bookcase, in Captain's cabin?"

But Zunrogo robbed her of any further satisfaction when he laughed knowingly and nodded, "You are a resourceful girl, aren't you?"

 Meeting his stern gaze, she abashed, cast her eyes down. As Disaidun Agripe indulged herself in the luxury of self-reproach, incensed Zunrogo, made a mental note to have Tizan take care of that crucial detail that had escaped them both.

"You need not worry about that secret passage.  It has long been secured well and proper."  He lied, after his prolonged scrutiny of her.

Her cheeks had flushed crimson (cherry red) under his burning stare but, even though all her senses were alerting her, she chose to believe otherwise.

 

Zunrogo could now afford to be magnanimous.

"Good.", he finally broke his silence. His eyes were unmistakably soft and affectionate, at odds with his cold, forced smile. 

"Then I would say for now, our business is concluded."  Nevertheless, he remained reluctant to dismiss her outright.

His mixed signals made her shift uneasily into her seat.  Disaidun did not wish to go either; furthermore, she hoped that he would ask her to stay.  Her worst fear was that he would reject her.

She watched him rising to his feet, and after fetching the jug on the night table, (which was set aside for him to indulge in just before sleep,) breaking the seal then pouring himself a cupful. It gladdened her heart, when he took the trouble to pour on for her as well, and then quietly (in silence) placed one of the cups on the table in front of her.

His burrowing (investigating) eyes were fixed on her, as they drank their alcoholic brew (beverage, draft) in long prolonged sips, his expression all the while, frustratingly unreadable.

By now Disaidun Agripe was on the brink of letting her passion explode.

Zunrogo looking away, smiled knowingly, and after another sip, simply put his cup down and slightly leaned forward.

"Perhaps we can now talk of more pleasant things." He said softly as his hand reaching forward, his fingers lightly tapped (pat) the top of her hand; Zunrogo’s implied suggestion, stole her breath away.

02- ZUNROGO TUGO JP 5

 Disaidun did not pull her hand away, nor did she reject him when he next took her hand into his and this time, gently squeezed it; instead, she shut her eyes and let the thrilling, warm sensation envelop her (swathe her). She told herself that she had longed for this moment from the instant she had laid eyes on him, that she was a willing participant in whatever he desired and that, whole-heartedly, she also desired him.

                                                                                 ~

 When the fervent, immoral interlude was over, Disaidun Agripe beamed in delight, truly believing Zunrogo's affections had come straight from his heart.  She may have suspected otherwise had he tried to steal the letter from her bodice and, had he done so, she was not altogether certain she could have found the strength to refuse him.  Fortunately, he had made no such attempt.

 Tizan, when he was now escorting her back to her cabin, masking his umbrage, had remained surprisingly civil in his treatment of her. 

 Of course earlier while she’d slept peacefully in Captain’s bed, Tizan summoned to Zunrogo’s presence, in the next room were summarily briefed about the slight changes in their plan: that furthermore, Disaidun Agripe (Miss Jepipi), had now been temporarily recruited to (abridge, fill-in) secure the gap in their defenses created by Frastos and Briac's absences and, even though her contribution was negligible (insignificant) at best, it was nonetheless necessary.

Tizan had also been (commanded) ordered to say nothing, to run no interference, but to keep her under scrutiny (a watch) as she waved her net of deception over her husband and set the wheels of (destiny) destruction in motion.

                                                                                  ~

 Once the secret entrance from the deceased Captain Doku's quarters had been effectively barricaded from within, Zunrogo quickly climbed above deck to assess the work Tizan had completed. 

He smiled in satisfaction, seeing that all the traps had been properly set in the key positions according to his exact specifications and that the fortifications on deck were all solidly reinforced to encompass the required parameters of stress.

That afternoon, both Zunrogo and Tizan, furthermore, had jointly concluded the last leg of the preparations by erecting below decks the barricade that would be Disaidun Agripe’s (Miss Jepipi's) duty to defend, leaving only one passage that would be sealed later from the inside. 

                                                                                          ~

 Now that all the necessary preparations were concluded (finished, done) and the vessel had been made completely battle-ready, Zunrogo next went to the mast and, as Doku (had he been alive,) would have done at this point, hoisted the red flag with the single white star enclosed within an equilateral diamond.  Their pursuers would interpret this, as the “all clear” signal that they have been expecting.

As they watched the pennant hanging limp in the mist, Zunrogo took a few moments to update (apprise) Tizan of another revision to his prior plan; that, he intended on apprehending the culprit Lance Diostin alive, but gave no explanation, whatsoever, for the reason for this last-minute amendment.

 The outcome of the battle would determine whether-or-not, Zunrogo could risk taking his Lieutenant Tizan into total confidence; it was still too early for him to expose his actual intentions, should Tizan prove unworthy or, was somehow captured.

03- -TZAN JP

Tizan, of course, sensing that there was more at stake here than met the eye but, at the same time, knowing it would be fruitless to press Zunrogo for answers, remained reticent (taciturn, quiet). Tizan was confident that, even if in future Zunrogo didn’t oblige him with an apt answer, he could still, with his resourcefulness, resolve this mystery.

 

(END OF SECTION 31) 

THE ORDEAL - SECTION 6

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE ORDEAL - SECTION 6

 Mokak cringed at this point anticipating what was to come. Would he dare explore further? He’d better; if he was to find out how she came to be in her present predicament. So, bracing himself, he continued with his probing.

 Shortly after mid-morning, on Captains orders (his command), the storm warning to the passengers had been issued and they were bid to at once take shelter below deck.

“He can’t be serious?” Many of the merchants aired their disgruntled voices since there was not a trace of cloud in the sky; quite skeptical, few even poised to ignore this dictum. They instead watched with amusement the worried expressions on the sailors and the flurry of activity as they lowered the main sails and strapped down all loose articles above and below decks to brace the ship for the impending storm.  It wasn’t long however, when the sudden driving winds converged over their heads a bank of dark, ominous clouds, instantly turning day into night as they blotted out the rays of the rising sun.  Out of nowhere a strong gale whipped the remaining sails and thrashed the augmented waves with fury. The fearful merchants interned below decks, in accordance with the captain’s subsequent, explicit directives, had bound themselves with strong ropes to the beams and to other stationary objects to prevent being tossed about during the anticipated storm.

Under the canopy of the dark mounting clouds and the barrage of pounding water, the angry roar of the winds and the churning sea sent all men’s souls into seizures of fright.  Huge hungry waves leaped to great heights and arched over the mast in crescents like gaping mouths ready to devour the whole ship in one gulp, while the smaller ones vied for the remaining crumbs.

This fair-sized vessel was picked up and tossed about as if it was but a paper toy by the enormous powers of nature.  Drenched to the skin, the exhausted sailors appeared to be nothing more than specks against the mountains of water arrayed against the vessel. Overpowered by a mightier master many were ripped away from their moorings as their binding ropes snapped in two.  Some were simply picked up and carried away, riding on the back of the wind, till they were dropped somewhere in the vast dark waters of the sea, never to be seen again.  Countless others perished under broken secondary masts, collapsed sails, and loose cargo catapulted at them by the waves and wind.  Their cries of anguish were drowned by the roaring mayhem created by the fierce storm.  The luckier ones, still alive, groaned with pain from the bruises, cuts, broken bones or crushed limbs they had suffered, and this was only the beginning stage of the deadly storm- the full (body) fury of it had not yet come.  The hull of the ship laboring under the exerting force (pressure) was strained to the point that it threatened to break in half.  If it were not for the good seamanship of the captain and the ability of his experienced crew, all would have perished at the start.  With their heroic efforts the ship was kept pointed into the wind to ride the waves, but it continued to be tossed about wildly for endless hours without let up, surmounting the danger to their endurance and ultimate survival.

The ship constantly rose and fell, pitching forward and back in the yaw of these giant waves, causing all above and below decks to become ill, with many passing out in their collective pools of vomit.  In the cabins the stench of this bodily discharge assailed all the senses.  Those luckier ones below secured tightly to the timbers sustained minimal injuries from the flying objects, but they still emerged from this adversity (hardship) with pale faces, reddened eyes, and hair standing on end, their clothes in complete disarray.  In this condition they already resembled ghosts.  The ones with stronger constitution wildly cursed their ill fate, while others mumbled prayers to the Sea God to show mercy, to spare their life, promising in return anything under the sun they could imagine.

The storm raged without letup for two days and two nights.  Then, with the same spontaneity as it’d started, all became perfectly still.  Not a whimper of the previously roaring wind remained.

In the hazy mist rising over the calm waters an eerie quiet now prevailed.

Many below deck were well past caring.  The few sturdy ones, rejoicing that the storm had ended, began untying their bonds.  Chenko Haken released himself from his ties, checked Teuquob’s vital signs, and then tried to revive her.

“All of you better keep still,” an elderly merchant warned, “till we are told the storm has passed.”

“Bah!  What need is there to be afraid of.” One scoffed, “Can’t you tell, old man, that the storm has passed already?”

The other shook his head in dismay and asked, “Has it?”

But his caution went unheeded.  Only a few, trusting the old man, remained as they were.  Seeing something in the old man’s words, Chenko Haken took the precaution of again securing Teuquob.  Half conscious, she blearily leaned her head back against the pole she was fastened (tied) to.

Mokak’s interest peaked. Despite his terrible fright, he could not stop now; he had to see it through to the end- if not, to savor just a bit more of these remarkably terrifying, yet exhilarating episodes of life, (brink of) death and destruction.

But first, anticipating more intrigue and decidedly more hazardous development, enterprise, betide above decks, he braced himself for that scenario.

Indubitably (to be sure), at the above decks, the atmosphere was far grimmer.  The experienced sailors and the captain of the ship showed intense fatigue, despair and worse- ultimate dread in their eyes.  Some already stationed in position, clasping their hands together, trembling, with lowered heads prayed to the merciful God Denizir to spare them from certain peril. 

All available hands had been summoned on deck and subsequently were cast into a still greater flurry of activity, as if racing against time itself, to prepare for what was yet to come.  The emerging passengers from below deck were shouted at abusively and told to get back below at once, that worse peril lay in the wake.  Some defiant souls were forcefully shoved or kicked down below.  As they tumbled down the length of the stairs, tempers flared, abuses were (exchanged furiously) hurled freely without reserve from both sides.

Chenko Haken had just finished securing himself to the pole when what they had most feared happened.  First there was a strange hum, then, before anyone had time to react, the most frightening, deafening roar that froze the very blood in men’s veins was heard throughout the sky.  The subsequent experience was still a more fantastic one to beheld, for many felt the ship in its entirety being lifted off the water and sucked into the void of the sky; suspended in mid-air for a second or two, suddenly, precipitately the ship began to twirl around and around with the fiercest force as they ascended, ship and all, still higher and higher, reaching unto the heavens.  The surreal ordeal was harder to bear, and this time around there remained very little for the ship’s captain or his crew to do to avert the impending disaster. Perhaps owing to Heaven’s infinite mercy, hurled right across the sky as if a piece of twig, eventually, for after what had seemed an eternity, the nearly intact ship had dropped back down, only to hit the surface of the sea with immeasurable force.

“Wow wee… that was incredible!”  Mokak could hardly contain his exhilaration. He shook his head in disbelief, mumbling to himself. “Was it sheer luck, or more likely, a testament to the ship’s sturdiness, that it had withstood the worst imaginable catastrophe? Ha hah! I knew it was too good to be believed.”  He grinned satisfactorily, for unfortunately water was now pouring into the cabins below from the holes, gaps and the cracks that had been created by this buffeting, threatening to drown them all.  Those that were still conscious presently shook with greater fear.

“We are finished! We’re all going to be drowned like rats here!” they screamed their forebodings in alarm.  Unfastening their bonds, cramming over each other, they pushed past anything in their way in their rush to get (to above deck) outside.

Having regained consciousness anew, Teuquob’s heartbeat (pounded) wildly with fear as she now realized that she might not survive her ordeal after all.  She grieved that she would not be able to fulfill her obligation to her mother.  “Are we going to die?” her eyes brimming with tears she asked Chenko Haken who was untying her bonds.

“Of course, not…  I won’t let that happen.”  Chenko Haken looked up with the most reassuring smile he could master (manage).

“Why are you so good to me, Chenko Haken?” she asked gratefully.  “I’ve done nothing to deserve it.  In fact, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this terrible predicament. I’m so s…”

“Hush!”  Gently he placed his hand over her lips to silence her, and then   compassionately wiped the tears from her cheeks. 

   “Need any help?” He turned with a start to see Beko standing right over him.

   “We’ll be all right; thanks all the same.” His curt, dismissive words went unheeded by Beko who simply shook his head, responding. “You needn’t be so proud, I’m here to land a hand whether you want it or not.” 

Since she was unsteady on her feet Chenko Haken wrapped his arm around her supple waist and supported her up the stairs in tow of Beko who continuously and energetically cleared all the strewn debris barring their way. 

The moment they’d emerged outside they were swept away in the milling crowd. Two consecutive explosions from below deck just then- since some of the cargo stored in barrels was of combustible nature (substance) - had started a panic-stricken milieu, some rushing away, while others going towards it in their effort to contain or extinguish the raging flames before they became all too consuming.  But luck was against them as there were more explosions, this time trapping those that had rushed down and were desperately trying to douse, snuff or truncate (curtail) the flying missiles of the raging fire. Billows of smoke mushrooming upwards constricted Chenko Haken and Teuquob’s already taxed lungs while heart-rending cries and screams of those trapped in the searing flames below made those above deck frantic with fear.  As Chenko Haken tried to console her, a warning shout was suddenly heard from behind, “Look out!”

Seeing that the broken mast was about to fall on them, Chenko Haken quickly pushed Teuquob away from harms length; the mast crashed down, missing her and Chenko Haken only by a hair.  Others that were nearby weren’t so lucky, some dozen or so men, including Ytuke, were mercilessly pinned down beneath the enormous weight of the main mast; they lay there dying, crying in sheer agony from the pain of their pulverized flesh and bones.  Spotting Ytuke some ways off, Chenko Haken and Beko hastened at once to his side. Then with desperate frenzy they tried to pull him and some others out from under it to safety. “Push…Push!” Beko shouted his directive to Chenko Haken. But despite all their concerted exerted effort, the massive structure, the thickest part of the pole, had stubbornly refused to give (would not budge an inch).

“Leave me be, I’m done for!” Ytuke whimpered with trembling lips as blood oozed from the corner of his mouth.

“I won’t let you die like this, hang on!  Someone, help me!”  Looking up, Beko shouted to elicit more assistance from the other able-bodied men, but only a handful of stout sailors came to land a hand, and even those, shaking their heads soon after gave up, seeing the hopelessness of the situation. Clearly, Ytuke and few adjacent men pinned underneath were done for. They were beyond anyone’s help.

“Better try saving your own hides, for it is not over by a long shot, another passerby ominously advised the persistent duo Beko and Chenko Haken; meanwhile, Sunse had been repeatedly pushed aside and told by both Beko and Chenko Haken in turn not to get underfoot and to stay clear of the danger. With her limited strength and capacity, she was being more of a hindrance than help. She watched helplessly from the sidelines, her heart seared in dismay, the tremendous exertion of Beko and Chenko Haken, as they attempted to shift or maneuver the heavy object, both drenched in sweat, the droplets of perspiration on their faces mingling with the sprays of the rapacious sea. 

Despite her bruised ego and hurt feelings, she could not just stand by and do nothing; hence, once more she called out to others to elicit much needed help from them, but everyone was too consumed by their own troubles to even care.  Just then the partial deck beside Chenko Haken gave way; barely missing him, as the hungry, searing flames underneath instantly devoured Ytuke and few others pinned underneath that they’d been so desperately trying to save. This cruel fate would have been Beko’s as well had it not been for Chenko Haken’s agile move. His strong body and hand (grasp) springing into action at that crucial moment had reached out and gripped Beko’s, as latter alongside the pockmarked merchant was about to be claimed by the fiery chasm. 

“I owe you one.” Beko responded by padding Chenko Haken on the shoulder, soon as he was hauled up and on safe footing. “Who would have guessed? You have quite a might (strength, power) and potency in those scrawny, thin arms of yours.” He chuckled trying to make light of his near-death experience; then rushed off to help rescue another known associate that was in dire difficulty (strain).

Wearied (fatigued) to begin with, all these near misses had enfeebled (drained) Teuquob’s already spent nerves. In her sudden fright of losing Chenko Haken, suffering from the shock, she’d started to tremble then all at once she let out a loud scream. Fearing disclosure, Chenko Haken rushed to her side and in haste held her in a tight embrace as the same time smothered her face by pressing her face to his chest in effort to drawn out her feminine voice until she’d regained her senses. “It’s all right, everything’s all right.” He then affectionately caressed her face and wiped away the tears cascading down her cheeks.

“You’re a girl!  I had suspected as much!” A solid piece of board struck Chenko Haken hard on the back of the head, rendering him unconscious, same time a burly hand reaching out grabbed hold of her and started forcefully pulling, dragging her towards the edge.  As she struggled to free herself from his clutches, the dastardly merchant’s lurid eyes flashed fire and he tightened his grip on her wrist. “Wretched girl, you’ve brought this calamitous curse on us all! You are going to pay and pay dearly for this disaster at sea!” Grabbing also her waist, he now tried to throw her overboard, into the foaming, churning sea.

“Please let me go!” she shrieked and struggled hard to break free from his murderous grasp.  “Someone, help me!  Help me!”  But her cries for help did not rise above the wailing and screams of those others also in peril for their lives.

    “Stop fighting me wench! Or I’ll tear you from limb from limb and throw the pieces into the sea!”  Angrily the merchant slapped her with the other hand right across her face, knocking her near senseless to the ground.  Still (seizing) clenching her wrist, with a murderous rage he was about to strike her again and again when his hand was halted by a forceful grip of another’s coming from behind. Beko’s powerful consecutive strikes of the fist onto the culprit’s face and torso then the limber kick, hurled the culprit clear across the deck.

“Beko watch out!” Her warning had come too late, for the friend of the assailant descending swiftly upon him just then, delivered a formidable blow to Beko’s back and head. He had in his hand an elongated solid piece of metal pipe which he’d used like a staff. Before he could deal with the next more deadly onslaught to finish Beko off, suddenly the deck underfoot had violently shifted then altogether gave way, swallowing both the culprit and Beko into the fiery (pit) grave below.  As they fell the culprit let out a hair-raising shrilling cry that hunted Teuquob’s soul, for the remainder of her existence. Presently she’d fallen on her knees and cupping her face, started to sob uncontrollably.

“You must get to safety.” Chenko Haken regaining consciousness by then had at once rushed to her side; ignoring the excruciating pain from the swelling and the deep wound (laceration) where which blood oozed at the back of his head, he helped her to her feet and steadied her. Anticipating the worse, he strove to spare her precious life. “We must find a strong, safe object to secure you with, before the worst comes” He mumbled as he led her away from the crumbling, perilous section of the deck. Despite her protestations, an appropriate measure was soon taken to ensure her survival. No sooner this was done, when just then a frightful noise set a new fear in everyone’s heart. 

The ship’s hull, despite the sturdy construction had already weakened to the point of no return; suddenly it buckled, snapping like a thin piece of dry wafer and dividing the ship instantly in two. By fate’s hand, another explosion that same instant some ways off had thrown the sturdy wooden object she’d been tied to, clear across the danger. As she’d lost consciousness, she did not see what happened to many unfortunates that’d found themselves caught in the middle, and were instantly lost to the dark, foamy waters.   The mighty roar of the sky and the sea drowned the desperate cries of those dying or hurt still clinging to the serrated edges of snapped planking.  The whirlpool that was created by the two sinking halves mercilessly sucked the remaining passengers and crew to their watery grave.

When she came to, she’d suddenly found herself in the middle of a vast ocean in pitch darkness riding the huge waves, fastened (secured) onto a sturdy wooden piece (empty chest, or door).  On the brink of death, slipping in and out of conscious state, exposed to harsh elements of sea, sun, cold, hunger and thirst, she drifted hence, aimlessly for many a day.

Oh, I can’t take much more of this. Mokak hastily withdrawing his hand fell back, his heart racing, palpitating wildly. His fright had been immeasurable. His body curled to a fetal position on the ground now, he laid there for a time, rocking his body back and forth, hugging his knees and shivering and trembling uncontrollably. His temples throbbed; his chest cavity rose and fell with the quick intake and expulsion of air; meanwhile his eyes remained closed tight as a drum as if to dispel all the horrific imagery he’d just experienced firsthand. Try as he might he could not erase the frightful episodes parading before his mind’s eye that now taunted, haunted him.

The vast, infinite ocean and being trapped in the boundless volume of water; he could not phantom a more terrifying, terrorizing outcome than that!

Oh, but then, despite his terrible fright, he’d gotten such a rich experience from all that…More than he’d bargained for! After a time, when his terror had abated, he gradually began to see the upside of his lush, productive experience that presently fed his fertile imagination. Meanwhile, he could not help marveling at the complexities of human nature and, furthermore, felt envious, certain yearning even, for the vast array of opportunities, good and bad, denied to him, that were so readily available to her. More than ever now, he was determined to remedy this.

                                                                                               ~

 

(END OF SECITION 6)