11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 17

After so many hours of tending the Dark Eunuch’s extensive wounds (lesions), Royal surgeon Mosek stepped back and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Egil Viggoaries was then offered two or three excellent pain-numbing concoctions but despite the throbbing pain in his arm, he refused to ingest any potion and perfunctorily dismissed the Surgeon.

 

01- ROYAL SURGEON MOSEK

The Dark Eunuch thence left alone in the room, he stayed seated there for a while longer evaluating (assessing) his two provocative future machinations; finally, his thoughts reverting to Stuart Chutek, his mind pithily deliberated on the astute (shrewd) course of assertion (command, charge, contention):

His men had already been positioned in the very Inn Chutek was staying, awaiting his orders to apprehend him; before the Stewart Chutek crossed to the Chukset Province, to seek out Tonzeye Yevgun.  In a short while, when the moment was apt, Chutek would be lawfully indicted and convicted for the impending (imminent) murder of Worren Youkup based on that sheer evidence alone. Furthermore, with the established motive, Chutek could easily be portrayed as an ambitious servant who had deliberately and unconscionably seduced and coerced his senile, old master into declaring him as the sole beneficiary; then, before Worren had a change of heart, Chutek cold-heartedly had arranged to have him (the Royal Tutor) killed during Chutek’s absence from Channing, on a supposed errand no less.  Portrayed (depicted) as an insidious, scheming, malicious servant, Chutek could then be subjected the extreme penalty of the law; albeit he survived the preliminary inquisition, he could still be made to suffer the brutal indignities, before his slowest, most tortuous end.

But where was the challenge in that? Egil Viggoaries scoffed and shifted in his seat. Even without all that, any amount of incriminating evidence could easily have been amassed, since the old Tutor had shown such extreme favoritism to the strikingly handsome Chutek, incurring jealous animosities from all the other servants, one in particular…The one named, Lorenzo.

Egil Viggoaries turned his thoughts instead, to Enqui Rimeng's flask which presented far more intriguing possibilities. This flagon (evidential instrument of death) could be utilized to net the bigger prize, in addition to the accursed Herleif! But then, why would he cook the golden goose, or would it be more prudent to call her a pheasant; besides which, she may soon be infinitely more valuable as the Dowager Mother of the future Sovereign.

Egil Viggoaries sporting a wry grin, rose from his chair and walked to the window; as he absently stared out, suddenly, unexpectedly, he was reminded of Samnuk.

Dark Eunuch Egil, grimaced thinking of the time he had tricked the mixed gender rock sprit entity Samnuk, who had just escaped being imprisoned in that protective water crystal amulet which Dwengzur had always worn around his neck. Samnuk had impersonated his master Dwengzur, but Egil quickly wizened to this deception, had instead duped Samnuk into revealing one of his secrets. This was an especially useful tool (device, information), indeed, gaining the ability to shapeshift and assume any form or person; unfortunately, his (Egil) being a mere mortal, if he utilized this spell, there would be a grave consequence to him. Egil had been seriously warned about this, by non other than Dwengzur, before his eventual disappearance with then captive, mischief-maker, Samnuk.

02 SAMNUK 1B

“Oh well,” Egil Viggoaries shrugged; knowing there would be an apt future time, when the advantages would far outweigh the vile disadvantage, for its use.

Dark Eunuch’s thoughts once more reverting to Sejon and then to Magnian, he now indulged his mind in that future fantasy, where which Zakhertan Yozdek and Sejon would be long dead and, he would be the Regent Guardian to Magnian. A necessary short step to being the omnipotent emperor. Emperor Egil… Egil the Merciless! He did like the sound of that! The Dark Eunuch threw his head back and gave a hearty guffaw. A brief time later, sinister grin gone, Egil abruptly turned about face and went out the room; dismissing the respectful bows of his guards at the door, he walked briskly down the hall. Of course, his personal security had at once sheathed their swords and fell into step behind him. The Dark Eunuch walked quickly with long strides to keep his appointment, albeit a little late, with the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund. Egil knew that the meeting was of a serious official matter, though it had rapidly been dwarfed in importance by these more recent developments.  

“When I see him,” Egil Viggoaries mused with wry smile on his lips, “I must at least make a point of thanking Qarzten Caimund for his recommendation of me to this case. The man has unwittingly done me a great service!” He threw his head back and laughed once more as he continued to advance without so much as breaking stride.

   

                                                                        ~   

   

That evening, when Egil Viggoaries received the expected word that Royal Tutor Worren Youkup was at death’s door after having suffered a damaging heart-attack, he quickly set aside all other business to pay the customary courtesy call on Worren, hoping to catch him still among the living and to whisper to him his spiteful news. As it were, the Dark Eunuch’s ingrained rancour (grudge) for the sanctimonious Worren Youkup and the Prince Herleif had been everlasting because, Egil Viggoaries’s childhood years had been glumly marred as the study companion of Prince Herleif. Young Egil had undergone nefarious castigations and ignoble humiliations whenever the unruly, wily Herleif had broken the rules. At each instance, Worren Youkup (heartlessly) indifferently turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to the truth had compulsorily mated out harshest penalties on the unpopular Egil Viggoaries. Eventually young Egil had learned to fight back and once fended for himself in such a way as to make Worren’s and Prince Herleif's life, for a time being at least, an absolute Hell. Zakhertan Yozdek at the time was still waging his border wars and was frequently absent from Channing for extended periods; Herleif’s vindictiveness going unchecked hence, it was not long before Viggoaries was maligned and permanently replaced as the study companion, with a more malleable stooge. The ostracized Egil’s life from then on, had taken on a new, nightmarish turn.  

                                                                      … 

At present entering the private compound of the palace staff, Egil Viggoaries continued to make his way, in the same bold strides, towards the tutor's sleeping quarters. Coming to within an earshot of the old man's deathbed, he heard the attending physicians pontificating over Worren’s ailment and them arriving at the unanimous decision that he was at present beyond saving.

"We've done all that is humanly possible to stem the course of damage but alas, his sight and speech faculties (ability) are slightly (to some extent) impaired.” Kundo Rotek said with a tired, mournful resignation. Everyone knew he was in fact quite fond of the Royal Tutor.

“At least you’d in time mercifully administered the dose to ease his terrible pain, but I dare say, bit more excessively." His colleague (assistant) pensively griped.  

 "There is nothing further to be done." Three of the senior Royal Physicians, farcically, exasperatedly shaking their heads unanimously at this point sounded their firm estimation.   

"May Gods be merciful!" A young Royal Physician just then acerbically added, eyeing Egil Viggoaries’s entrance into the room.   

"And may his passing into the spirit world, be without fret." Another one called Polnar, hastily rushed in to say, same time gave his co-worker an apprehensively admonishing look that seemed to say: “Xamis Urmond you fool, you will pay dearly for this later! You have enjoyed the favor of His Highness Zakhertan Yozdek and basked in the rarely bestowed honors and privileges your youthful brilliance has earned you up till now, but nothing lasts forever, and no one is indispensable!” Polnar had rushed forward meanwhile, along with the others, to respectfully greet Egil Viggoaries.   

Polnar’s subsequent profuse apologies and amiable words, on behalf of his headstrong friend Xamis, had unfortunately was ignored (fell on deft ears), for Egil Viggoaries had already made up his mind to take care of this impertinent and upstart Royal Physician, permanently (for good).

03- EGIL VIGGORIES 1- JP

Outwardly, however, Egil seemed to be appeased; showing a particular concern for the Royal Tutor's increasingly deteriorating condition, he suggested (ordered) he be allowed a few solitary moments with his old teacher to convey his farewells.  

The Chief Royal Physician, Kundo Rotek, readily assenting, cleared the room at once of all persons; then he too, quickly exited the room. Then again, all were extremely glad of the opportunity to spread as much distance as possible between them and the Black Eunuch, for none wished to inadvertently offend him and risk his baneful (cursed) wrath.   

Egil Viggoaries nodded in satisfaction as he approached the old Tutor as, without interference, he was now able to assess for himself the specific symptoms of the poison. Though all had read his occasional dissertations about the progress of human diseases and thus would never question his motives, no one was truly aware of the full extent of Egil’s vast knowledge of medicine and toxicology, gathered over the course of many years of experiment and study.  Not only had Egil Viggoaries poured over and devoured the Royal Library's vast storehouse of medical texts (one of the subjects along with alchemy, astronomy, botany and military strategy that had been spared from the incineration) but he had for the past several years also conducted experiments on his own into the causes, cures and progress of a countless number of diseases that plagued mankind with terminal suffering.  As Minister of Internal Security, he was able to procure an unending supply of subjects from among the ranks of the condemned prisoners with which he strove to resolve the dilemmas posed by those elusive maladies that had eluded even the wisest of contemporary medical minds. Not that Egil Viggoaries was striving to find cures for these illnesses; rather, his fascination lay in inducing sickness into previously healthy individuals and then painstakingly recording in meticulous detail the variations of the disease's progress until the final deterioration of their condition.   

The suffering, the torment inflicted on these ill-fated victims gave him that perverse pleasure and bizarre sense of temporary satiation from his bottomless, sadistic curiosity. Egil Viggoaries’s compiled works meanwhile had proven to be a controversial yet invaluable contribution to the medical field, though the methods by which the information had been gathered drew to date, twenty or thirty muted criticisms from certain Court Officials as well as, secret censure by two of his medical peers. Regardless of these personal qualms, they nevertheless jostled each other in their rush to obtain, at great expense, his latest findings when they were, infrequently printed up for publication. For every now and then Egil Viggoaries would succumb to the human failing (an urge) to boast, to gain recognition for his unconscionable yet brilliant methods and theories. These published findings however had only ceded the surface layers of his knowledge of the tools of death. He had also, for self-preservation, secretly experimented, and duly become an expert in identifying the culprit poisons, in specifically, five unresolved murder cases.     

Looking at the old Royal Tutor, Egil Viggoaries presently noted with a bemused smile the obvious signs and the side-effects of the drug Worren Youkup had unwittingly ingested, which had escaped the learned eyes of those brilliant Royal Physicians. Haughty, Idiotic incompetents, the lot of them! Even that arrogant upstart had not caught on. Later, Egil Viggoaries was to learn that Xamis Urmond had indeed raised the possibility during his examination but had been roundly overridden by his more discreet peers. His apologist had even ventured as far as to advise Xamis, "Let the sleeping dogs lie."    

Dispassionately Egil Viggoaries studied the side effects of the potion that had, in its wake, left the Royal Tutor gradually (increasingly) more bereft of sight and speech.  That old boorish tyrant that had plagued his childhood, now nearing his end, was as vulnerable as a newborn babe, squirming in his silent pain. Yet there remained something in those sightless eyes, an urgent need in that contorted face to communicate something vital. Taking advantage of this chance, Egil Viggoaries ordered one of the waiting attendants at outside, to bring him a parchment and ink-laden brush. The attendant as he was leaving the room witnessed only of Egil Viggoaries placing the brush in the dying Royal Tutor's right hand and urging him to write.

No one bore witness to the Eunuch’s subsequent act of, leaning close to Worren’s ear and imparting to him in a whisper, while grinning with sheer malice, his exquisite plans for the darling Stewart Chutek. 

04- STEWART CHUTEK'S IMPENDING FATE

A brief time later Egil Viggoaries had emerged at outside declaring the result to be indecipherable scribbling that warranted thorough analysis later. The Eunuch’s back to them, Chief Royal Physician Kundo Rotek and the other Royal Physicians had all at once, frenziedly rushed (scrambled) back into the room, in time only to observe, Worren Youkup arch his back in pain and breath his last.

 

                                                                        ….   

 

 

(END OF SECTION 17)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 19

Suddenly a call from the deep woke Under Secretary Lenny Sukzor and he sat upright with a start. He was drenched in perspiration, uncomfortably so.

"It’s about time you woke up, son of Wushing." the voice resounded in the night.

With certain trepidation Lenny turned to ascertain that his wife was still peacefully asleep by his side.

01  -LENNY SUKZOR (12)JP

"Oh, don't worry, no one else can hear me." The familiar voice in the shadows reassured him. "But I can linger only for a spell longer; for that hell hound Dwengzur is sure to pick up my trail."  He threw his head back and laughed boisterously, a sound akin to the rolling thunder.

As Lenny Sukzor quietly rose from his bed, he strained his eyes to see more clearly into the darkness.

His heart palpitated wildly, suspecting yet refusing to believe what his keen senses were telling him. "Am I dreaming about this? Are you a ghost? Just who are you really, what are you? His murmured questions spilled out as he tried to light the oil lamp on the side table by the bed. "How on earth did you bypass the security?"

"How soon they forget!" the voice plaintively grumbled. "No, I am not a ghost, not yet anyway."  The figure, opting not to use magic, he instead moved nearer to the window and allowed the full moonlight streaming in to reveal his familiar features.

Lenny Sukzor, having finally managed to light the lamp at the same time, had turned and held it before him to illuminate the room. "You!” In his fright (and shock) the lamp nearly dropped from his grasp. For a heartbeat he was dumbfounded, and then found his tongue quickly, "General Zonar Kuntzu, is that really you? But how is this possible? I thought you were…  I mean, I've seen your scorched, mangled corpse."  His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Oh, that!" Zonar Kuntzu shrugged, dismissing it. He then perfunctorily put aside the miniature antique jade cauldron that had for a spell intrigued him and turned to fully face Lenny Sukzor.

02- GENERAL ZONAR KUNTZU - IMMORTAL (36)JP

"You could call the (corpse) remains an empty shell, a duplicate of sorts, for want of a better word. It’s a small trick I’ve acquired, from my father’s…mm; anyhow it was the only means with which to escape catastrophe; hah, I sure deceived that demon Dwengzur."  The last sentence Zonar’d half grumbled to himself.

Seeing Lenny Sukzor's puzzlement, he grimaced. "But never mind all that, it will take far too long for me to explain it in layman's terms."  He dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

“So, you're a magician (conjurer) as well.” Lenny thought.

"You might say that." Zonar, reading the other’s mind, again turned to face him squarely (full-frontal).

"Then Dwengzur, he, too, is", Lenny Sukzor masked his amazement as he sought this confirmation, only to be interrupted by an impatient Zonar.

"Yes, yes. That kinsman of mine sought to destroy me, and very nearly succeeded too."

"But why? And where is he now? None have seen him since the combat." Lenny Sukzor asked anxiously, more concerned about Zonar. Now he understood the chance he was taking by being with him.

"Rest assured, he's far away; gone to give a full report to his masters. He believed that his mission was a success and that he had destroyed (slayed) me. As you can see, I’m unharmed, for the time being, that is."  Zonar mumbled this last bit to himself; he shrugged and looked away and then donned a mordant smile as he glanced at an unspecific, ambiguous point in the void and, knowingly winked.

                                                                           ~  

Within the deep cavern of a high elevation, in that remote, eternally (perpetually) permafrost region .... the image and the unfolding scene on the wall, had just then abruptly halted (ceased).                        

Several assembled immortals previously cold, unfeeling eyes suddenly flamed. Their inquisitive gazes one by one then turned to silently admonish Dwengzur: “So, you have failed after all! And now look how he is stirring up even more trouble!”

“Why didn’t we send proficient ‘Exterminators’ to do this job in the first place, instead of Dwengzur?” Sthetor could not resist needling (provoking) Elder Yuntak, even though he knew the reason why. He was, however, duly ignored.

“I do not understand it. I performed the sacred ritual that should have ended his existence, double, or no double.” Dwengzur's eyes flashed gold, and his brow furrowed, as he inwardly mused (questioned the air).

03- DWENGZUR (29)JP

“Yet here it is. The stark reality stretched out before us, mocking us. Did you see how he turned just then, after saying you believed that your mission was a success and that you had destroyed (slayed) him; he looked straight at us with a sardonic smile and winked! No mistakes in that! That upstart has deceived you well, and good, Dwengzur. No wonder he has the audacity to taunt us. Worst still, you let Nevetsecnuac, Zandar Kuntzu’s and Tekubzan’s grandson, their twin daughter, Arnora’s kid, slip through your fingers as well. This is all, your fault…You have botched it…. This is inexcusable!”  In unison, they reproachfully glared at Dwengzur. This whole race of immortals was intolerant of any failure, least of all, any weakness. Dwengzur stood on the threshold of extermination or far worse.

“You're all imagining it!” Dwengzur had protested it at first only to have acquiesced a moment later. “Still, it is conceivable. I should not have left Channing so soon afterwards. Had I lingered a bit longer, I would have anew picked up his trace (or life force) and wizened to Prince Nevetsecnuac’s true bloodline. Though he is supposed to be half immortal, he has no special powers… None that I could detect.” Dwengzur gritted his teeth, not at all pleased with the way both uncle and nephew had tricked him.

Dwengzur rose sharply and first reverently bowed to Aegeus, then mutely (noiselessly) addressed the elders, “I respectfully request that, before you pass any judgment on me, I be given another chance to set things right. This, I believe, is my prerogative.”  He turned next and looked directly at the venerable elder Aegeus with an unwavering coolness that commanded respect.

“Now you are insolent! Even such a brief stay in the outside world has so utterly contaminated you.”  After this projected chastisement from Elder Tibek, all heads turned to Aegeus to gauge his reaction.

“Nevertheless, you do have that right.” Elder Bovets responded coolly. “Shall we give Dwengzur another chance, then? Or would it not be wiser to send someone else in his place, someone more assured to have greater success?”

“And risk contaminating yet another?” Elder Tibek, seated at the far back, projected his concern.

All the while eminent Elder Aegeus had ruminated (brooded, sulked); his mind closed to all save one, to whom he now communicated his wishes.

“Is there no other way?” The recipient, His Eminence Olavingemar from the most ancient branch of Kongrul that had been (after the great wars) absorbed by the Race of Karn, telepathically asked.

“I understand your hesitation sir, as he is your grandson.” Stheltor’s projected thought just then interjected, directed at Olavingemar.

04-STHETOR IMMORTAL (8)JP

 Stheltor’s insolent meddling, plus sham (bogus) empathy, peeved (irked) Aegeus. His strong dislike of Stheltor was a grave concern to him.

“I’m afraid not.” Aegeus, nevertheless, mastering his ire and totally ignoring Sheltor’s rude intrusion, shook his head addressing directly and only Olavingemar. “Considering the fact that our very own existence is in peril, we must do all we can to stem or, if we cannot, amend this damaging course.”

Stheltor yet again, soundlessly addressing the assembled elders, brazenly interceded: “We know Nevetsecnuac also carries the royal blood of Shon Alric, Ingolf, Therran Valamir, and he being bent on vengeance, his actions could destabilize Wenjenkun;  Zonar meanwhile, is very much involved with Korion’s politics and welfare; can we not just this once put aside our non-interference laws and trap and execute key culprit Zonar? If not through use of “Exterminators,” then, by simply placing Korion’s Sovereign Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan’s welfare in jeopardy?”

“What audacity, you have Stheltor; how dare you even entertain breaching one of our sacred laws?” Elder Tibek was quicker than the rest, in telepathically reprimanding Stheltor.

05- ELDER TIBEK (WHITE WOLF) IMMORTAL (16)JP

“You may now consult the Cosmos.” Aegeus, ignoring the tumult, firmly, clairvoyantly, commanded Stheltor.

 Sthetor complying (obeying), turned his mind inward then plumbed (completely) to the universe; as he did this, his physical body then underwent a drastic change to become spectral.

After a lengthy meditative state, his ethereal form once more returned to the norm. At which point, he simply shook his head.

The governing body of Elders, with their projected thoughts in unison, pressed him to speak his mind.

Prolonging his response to them, “It is not a question of you going back,” Sthetor addressed Dwengzur directly, telepathically, in a measured, even tone. “Nor is your competence being in doubt, after all, you had no way of knowing.”

“Knowing what, respected Elder?” Dwengzur instinctively asked.

Sthetor, indifferent to Dwengzur's inquiry and his subsequent thoughts, turned instead, to address Aegeus privately, “You were quite right in your supposition sir; I had just now found out when I consulted the Heavens that things are precisely, as they should be. Zonar is destined to transform at earth-years of thirty-three and gain that ability. Unfortunately for us, this will make handling him much harder. Elder Aegeus, you must prepare yourself for that eventual confrontation, for when he comes to destroy us, only you have the means and genetic disposition, to effectively stop him or, more precisely, terminate him. In the interim, there is no harm in trying to postpone or initiate plans for altering (modifying) even a little bit, this dire outcome. I say we give Dwengzur another opportunity; if for nothing else, but to buy us valuable time. Per chance he succeeds, well and good, if not, then it will be all up to you, reverent sir, for only you possess that apt (pertinent) potential to annihilate Zonar.”                                                                         

“I’m sorry I brought such trouble to you, my friend.” Olavingemar projected his sincere apology to Aegeus.

06- ELDER AEGEUS

But Aegeus’s mind was focused on Sthetor’s words, “Zonar is destined to transform at earth years of thirty-seven, then fully gain that ability at forty.” Then he used the words, “Genetic disposition?”  “How much did he see?” Aegeus simply shook his head and again restraining his indignation at this ambitious upstart Sthetor, for he was partially right, focused his attention on the current, pressing concern. Aegeus knew all too well what was at stake here, for while Nevetsecnuac was the grandson; Zonar happened to be the surviving, immortal twin son of Chandor (Zandar Kuntzu) and Lady Tekubzan. While newly acquired, ambivalent (hesitant, uncertain) facts, known only to him, were yet to be fully assessed about Nevetsecnuac’s threat to them, it could not be said the same about Zonar. He had inherited the full special gene pool particular to royal lineage from his father Chandor, who was the secret son of Aegeus. As a result, Aegeus’s grandson Zonar would soon possess the unique ability to, at will, transform into a living, breathing Dragon.

This ability manifested at the earth years of thirty-seven or forty. Taking into account (heeding) Sthetor’s undeniable dire prediction, Aegeus’s renegade son Zandar Kuntzu had been successfully terminated well before that time, when Chandor (Zandar Kuntzu) had just turned thirty. The contemporary (present) threat was due to Zonar’s impending (fast approaching) birthday where he would be of that threatening age.

(END OF SECTION 19)

 

  Legends, MAGIC, moral story, quest, romance, supernatural

 

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 21

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 21

02- ABBOT TUHO

After the scholar Fradel had left the room, Yenis hung her head, pouting for a long while, as seething anger stirred within her.  Eventually putting her disappointment and rage forcefully aside, she reclined and attempted in earnest to get some sleep.  Still, her melancholy and irritation drove away any sleep and she stayed fully awake most of that night, wrapped in a despondent, fitful mood, suffering from emotions and thoughts that obstinately refused to go away.

In the next room, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) had spread out his overcoat next to a dry wall, rolled his outer garments up into a neat bundle and placed them under his head as he lay down to sleep.  Hearing a stirring behind him, he instantly turned and sat bolt upright.

Luminous, swirling vapors circled the center of the room, finally settling to reveal the apparitions of three handsomely clad monks kneeling to face him in supplication, flanked by two novices carrying lamps which glowed with a cold fire. 

Rising to his feet, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) was about to accost them when the center monk bowed low on courtesy and, in a resounding voice, gave solemn greetings to him invoking the name Prince Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir. He then added:

"Abbot Tuho respectfully requests an audience with Your Highness.  Please follow us."

Not waiting for Nevetsecnuac's reply, they rose to their feet in unison and, bowing, floated out of the room.

"Please wait up, sirs."  Nevetsecnuac grabbed the bundle of garments and rushed outside after them trying, as he moved, to clothe himself decently.  Everything outside was bathed in unnatural, cool daylight, its beauty almost taking Nevetsecnuac ‘breath away.  All had been transformed into the exact semblance of its former glory.  In the splendor of the days before the monk's demise Nevetsecnuac noted the red columns, inlaid with jewels lining the halls.  Cut diamond chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling, their brilliance mirrored in the smooth marble of the floors.  Brilliantly colored murals surrounded every door and, flanking the portals, tall, lifelike statues stood sentry over the rare fragrances wafting in from the courtyard outside.

Nevetsecnuac passed through polished white terraces, over petal strewn paths checkered by the cold sun's golden rays, and around crystalline ponds housing darting goldfish.  Rare birds sang joyously from branches adorned with spring flowers, their melody in perfect consonance with the monk's lugubrious harmonies and the rhythmic pealing of bells.  All was so indescribably beautiful, so entrancingly transient and serene that Nevetsecnuac felt as if he was in a heavenly palace among the immortals.

Returning inside, he trod on plush carpeting, so soft he felt he was walking on clouds and noted with interest the identities of the idols that inhabited the great hall.  His wish to stop and pay his proper respects to these gods, however, was overridden by the monks' unwillingness to wait.  After a slight bow from the waist, he picked up his steps and rushed after the monks, who had very nearly vanished from view.  Seeing them disappear behind a large set of doors, he followed their lead and entered the Great Hall, where some seven or eight hundred monks, draped in magnificent capes, had already assembled. 

Separated into two neat groups arrayed around the center like a palm leaf, they were kneeling, hands clasped, in absolute obeisance (homage, respect) to the surprisingly young-looking Abbot, who was sitting in his golden cloud-patterned high-backed chair, positioned at left, center of the dais (platform). Abbot was the only one that did not have his eyes closed in deep trance.  Behind him at slightly lower podium, in intricately carved chairs set, the key (prominent)administrative priests, other high-ranking staff and scribes. etc. 

Instructed to wait at the door by the portal's guards, Nevetsecnuac watched his three guides take their respective places, close their eyes and strike the same pose as the rest. 

The two novices brought their lighted staffs to Nevetsecnuac's side and quietly led him up to the Abbot's dais.  His eminence’s eyes were at first lowered (half-closed) in contemplative pose, as if in prayer, his manner, serene yet imposing and dignified.

Nevetsecnuac waited until the golden-haired, most august-looking Abbot Tuho finally looked up and smiled at Nevetsecnuac.  

At once, Nevetsecnuac bowed his head reverently to the Abbot, who solemnly reciprocated (returned) the bow, then placed his palms together before his chest then raised it to his forehead in the traditional greeting.

Coming forward next, the Abbot took Nevetsecnuac's hands and, smiling warmly, said,

"It’s very kind of Your Highness to honor us with your presence.  May we now request that Your Highness permit us to show proper and due respect as well as our boundless gratitude."

He ushered Nevetsecnuac into a seat of honor, a magnificent high-backed chair intriguingly carved with a dragon motif, bearing the Seal of the reign of Nevetsecnuac's grandfather, on a singly higher podium to the right.

"This is where His Majesty, Zuronghan Therran Valamir, always sat to receive our oaths of fealty.  This honor is now conferred on to you, Your Highness."

03- NEVETSECNUAC BEING HONORED

 After Nevetsecnuac, with all due modesty, took up his seat, Abbot Tuho, the elder monks, the Prior, the Abbot's assistant, the Deacon, the two senior scribes and all others arrayed themselves by rank in single file to the accompaniment of bells, drums and gongs.

 When all was still once more, the long procession of monks came forward in measured steps and, one by one, knelt and touched their foreheads reverently to the floor before Nevetsecnuac.  Each one proclaimed their fealty and gratitude to him.  Their resounding, rippling words permeated the air of the Great Hall with an aura of auspicious light.

Just then a scented breeze wafted through the Hall and the ceiling of the Great Hall parted with reverberating thunder.  All eyes(heads) turned upwards; Nevetsecnuac, the Abbot and all the monks without exception, immediately and with reverence (of this miracle), had dropped to their knees, mutely expressing deep gratitude to all the Gods, Immortals and Royal lineage, for this special (favor) blessing.

 Nevetsecnuac with misted eyes observed high above him, hosted by various Gods riding the backs of Dragons, his majestic grandfather, his father, and the other members of the Royal family, all, peering down at him from the luminous clouds and approvingly smiling at him. 

Subsequently, after all the revered beings had departed and the ceiling once more sealed (closed up), Abbot Tuho wreathed in smiles coming forth, invited Nevetsecnuac to a feast in the huge dining hall of the Abbey, to commemorate this auspicious occasion.  They took up their respective seats and happily partook (consumed, shared) the delightful array of exotic fruits from distant lands and sundry, intercontinental vegetarian dishes; meanwhile, from silver goblets all drunk heartily the refreshing liquids to quench their rising thirsts, while they listened to the soothing melodies of the harp.

During dinner Nevetsecnuac, seizing an opportunity, politely asked Abbot Tuho for his guidance.

"All is to be done according to Heaven's will."  The Abbot paused and then, in a quiet, serious voice, added, "Your Highness, you must remember that perceived reality is an illusion, and things are rarely what they seem.  Lay your trust in the unlikely one and pluck out the root of evil implanted in the abandoned son."

"Help…Help!  Save me!"  A sudden, desperate cry shook Nevetsecnuac into wakefulness.

He found himself, fully dressed, seated on a wooden crate in the middle of the large, dilapidated hall.  Only the moonlight, streaming through the broken windows and the gaps in the walls illuminated his way.  It was most fortunate that he had marked the area well during the day's surveying, for now he had to blindly rush back to Yenis' room.  She was obviously in mortal danger.

When he reached the outside of her door he hesitated to enter for a moment or two and knocked instead.  "Are you all, right?" he inquired, afraid she may not be decent; afraid she may only be having a nightmare.

"Ay!  Get away from me!  Help me, Master Fradel!  Save me!"

Her shout quickly made up his mind for him.  Forsaking propriety, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) burst inside; to apprehend the culprit but he found no such person there.

 She was sitting, all alone, on the edge of the bedding, trembling in fright.  Soaked in perspiration, her diaphanous inner garment clung tightly to her body, attenuating the outlines of her exposed bosom as it swelled and heaved with her gasps.

Embarrassed, Fradel lowered his eyes to the ground at once, muttering apologies for the intrusion, and started to take his leave.

"Please don't go.  I'm so frightened." the girl pleaded in a quivering, provocative voice.

"Don't be." Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) assured her, his eyes still pinned to the ground.

"It's your taut nerves that are playing tricks on you.  It was only a bad dream.  I'll light this torch and leave it here for you, if you like."

"But I really did see someone sinister lurking about.  It was not a dream, I swear it!" in a tragic tone she protested.

 "I was not asleep yet.  Truly there was someone in my room.  I did not get to see his face, but he stood over there, as surely as I am here…A monstrously big man with grizzled red hair and blazing beard."

"That's impossible." Fradel shook his head.  "This room has no windows and no other openings besides the door I just came in.  I made sure of that earlier.  How could he appear out of thin air?"  He was beginning to lose patience with her.

"You're mocking me.", she said indignantly, pouting, puckering her lips. "Has it occurred to you that there might be a secret passage here that you might have overlooked?"

"No, that was ruled out when I thoroughly searched this room earlier."  Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was unrelenting, but softened his tone to urge her, without turning around, "Please do not be afraid and try to get some rest."

04- YENIS LUKO

"Oh, please, I implore you, don’t go." She whimpered (moaned) seductively, then rushed over to tug at his sleeve.

 "I don't care if you believe me or not, just don't leave me alone.  I'm sorry if I spoke harshly just then."  Stomping her foot, she rebuked him gently, "You just don't care what happens to me; you obviously don’t! But how can you be so heartless to leave me here all alone without any protection?"

 Weeping, she ran back and threw herself on the bedding.  "I'm afraid.  What if he comes back?" she looked up to ask, despairingly.

Recalling the other set of footprints in the tunnel, the large ones paralleling those of Yenis, which she’d claimed to have had no knowledge of, and remembering the Abbot's parting injunction that ‘things are not what they seemed’, Fradel stopped.  The girl was frightened in earnest.  Perhaps there was something in what she claimed, for that odd sensation of being watched by unseen eyes gnawed at him again.

 "Well, all right." he acquiesced with his back still towards her.  "You may rest easy; I’ll stand guard outside the door."  He closed the door after him then sat down with his back against it.

Is this scholar made of flesh and bone? Nevertheless, comforted by his presence outside, shrugging her shoulders, Yenis closed her eyes to sleep.

 Oh well, there will be plenty of other opportunities.  Resigned to this night’s temporary setback, she yawned a few more times then, rolling over, soon drifted into blissful sleep for the remainder of the night.

 

(END OF SECTION 21)

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