LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 7

The beast that was Dwengzur, shrieking as if to deafen the dead, transformed into a giant python and then coiled around Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) body, squeezing, and squeezing, restricting his breathing, and threatening to crush every bone. Yet, once more, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac's) imagination fought the spell and won the battle. Reluctantly, the python eased his grip, only to open its mouth wide, intending to swallow Fradel whole.

 

01-MONSTER SERPENT

Maddeningly, the unfazed Scholar now chortled in mystical serpent’s face. "Haven't you eaten enough already; I’d think twice about that if I, were you! You know full well I'm not going to perish, and I can do lot more harm in your gut than I can out here."

His bluff worked. The numinous python recoiled and instantly vanished in a puff of smoke and light. Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) found himself once more seated back at the table across from disgruntled (peeved) Dwengzur, as if non of that had happened.

Glaring at him over the rim of his cup, Dwengzur finished his sip then, shaking his head, ejected coldly, "You are indeed an exceptional being. For a human you are quite remarkable if I should say so myself. I can see now what qualities Zonar saw in you. I would like to indulge you some more, but I am rather pressed for time."  He glanced down for a brief second then returned his icy gaze to Scholar Fradel.

"I am going to ask you just one more time, and that is only because such a remarkable iron-willpower has earned you a measure of my respect; will you voluntarily submit to, my probing of your mind?"

“I’ll not now nor ever, oblige you in this unreasonable request." Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) responded resolutely because his distrust of Dwengzur had now reached its zenith. He would hence, come-what-may, be defiant and guard his secret.

Equally obdurate (obstinate), Dwengzur regretted that which he must do next; for he needed to uncover the extent of damage Zonar had done then deal with the problem accordingly. This last refusal afforded him the perfect excuse and means of absolution for the outrage he must now commit.

 "Very well, then." he shook his head dismally, "You’ve left me no other choice. You have only yourself to blame if things go awry and you are reduced to…” Dwengzur checked his tongue abruptly; but the grave threat implicit in his tone, gave Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) cause for concern and he pondered for a spell, on potential future consequence.

 

02-  FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC)

Dwengzur in the interim had also paused, hopeful that Fradel would relent, yet no change was forthcoming.

"Fool! With your own obstinacy you have signed your own death warrant or perhaps even a fate worse than that."  Dwengzur shrugged off his irritation and looked away. “And thence, I will not be held accountable for the probable consequences." He muttered as if to reassure himself.

In truth (actuality), Dwengzur would rather not have resorted to that extreme measure, for to do so would be a mark of failure, admittance that he had been unsuccessful in mastering this situation, in besting this primitive life form.

Again, looking away, Dwengzur took mental inventory of the probable damage that Fradel Rurik Korvald might suffer, because of the “Tashork” spell:  First, there was a good chance that Fradel would come out of it dull-witted (stupid, slow) or even brain dead. Dwengzur had seen it happen before and it was not a pretty sight. Second, if this human still had significant contributions to make in his lifetime, his zombie state would seriously impede (hinder) or even alter providence (the course of destiny); then being held accountable, he (Dwengzur) would suffer the ultimate (extreme) punishment.

“Blasted, obstinate human; since you are forcing my hand, you should be held solely responsible for any dire outcome, not I; then again,” he paused to consider this: Regardless of circumstance, had his master ever shown any mercy, afforded him any sort of leeway? Dwengzur grumbled, fearing the worse.

Having run out of options, Dwengzur now uttered the incantation: “Tashork”, its power second only to that spell which raised the dead.

 Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) watched in wonder as the immortal Dwengzur changed his physical form and he became something entirely different. His eyes glowed and then blazed crimson and harsher, until they reached an incredible brightness in intensity; subsequently, an ancient cryptogram (symbol) manifested on his bare chest as the several streams of surging (electric) energy swirled about his body.

 

03- DWENGZUR ALTERING HIS APPARENCE

Try as he might, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) could neither look away nor close his eyelids. Suddenly two blinding bolts of white light shot out from Dwengzur's burning orbs to, sear through Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac’s corneas) irises, to eventually attach themselves like shackles to the back of his eyes. Subsequently that part too, painfully melted away as the piercing light penetrated to the centre his brain.

Mesmerized, Nevetsecnuac was rendered powerless to prevent the steady infringement which permeated next, deep into the very recesses, the very core of his (soul) being.  Unable to resist this most potent of magic, in his frozen state Nevetsecnuac, with eyes wide open, was forced to endure being terribly violated (breached) till such a time when he sank into a deep, vacant stupor.

In few minutes Dwengzur had retrieved the information he needed and much, much more.

Dwengzu had, meanwhile, severed the link and hence, once more reverted to his old form (appearance). He sat back pondering on all that amassed knowledge; all that he, through clairvoyant (psychic, telepathic) means, had learned about the recent past, and the immediate future yet to unfold. His gaze affixed on this remarkable, though enigmatic (mysterious), heroic Prince, he studied him long and hard, cataloging the intriguing facts and accidental fluctuations, into proper apertures (slots) in his brain.  He smiled, having now fully grasped, just what it was that had made Fradel Rurik Korvald, rather, Prince Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir, (also known by so many other, assumed names, Svein, Audun Codenz, Tonng Yennik,) such a remarkable, worthy individual; he carried the gene of Ingolf, the founding father of Wenjenkun, and that’s why he had stood out so tall above the rest of the mortal rabble around him. Dwengzur had, furthermore, grasped that the basis for the affinity and mutual respect between Zonar and Nevetsecnuac being much more; and finally, despite all of his bigoted protestations, conceeded that the prince had as well now secured his (Dwengzur’s) lasting admiration.

Nevetsecnuac’s past combats in the moral realm alone, were enough to stir his (Dwengzur’s) essence to the very core. In that brief instant, Dwengzur had drunk deep of this most intoxicating wealth of human emotions: the boundless, infinite love, the uncompromising sense of duty, intense loyalty, supreme sacrifices, the filial piety, and the remarkable courage not only of Nevetsecnuac’s, but also of the rest (contacts, his associates). So passionately intense these overpowering emotions had been that it had pierced his, (figuratively speaking,) stone heart and shaken him to the very root, altering his lifelong attitude (estimation), as well, eradicating all his prior prejudices against humans.

Dwengzur additionally sympathized with Nevetsecnuac’s past endured hardships, and he appreciated akin rebellious defiant acts, towards his oppressors. Dwengzur, meanwhile, had glimpsed at the immediate future, within a month, events beyond that were hidden to him; and so, he glanced towards Zaur Stugr, seated at the side, little ways off, and then shook his head.

“Pity, that outcome could have been altered significantly if it were not for the pervasive mistrust imbued in every facet of their beings. However, he could not see providence too far ahead; so perhaps the outcome could still be different.”

Dwengzur did have it within his means to change this, but the law forbade interference in fate (providence), and that law could never be broken. “Perhaps if I put forward an appeal to my master and through him to Elder Aegeus?”  He looked down grimly and shook his head, knowing the uselessness of such an attempt.

Draconian laws…Shame of it all. For there could be no exception to those irrevocable rules.

But just as abruptly the feeling of dishonor (shame), a newly acquired strange notion, now gnawed at him. Having lived through Nevetsecnuac’s experiences, his innate selfish, sadistic, vile, crass, and vindictive nature had been, albeit temporarily, altered. Dwengzur at present, moreover, felt compassion and mercy also invading his heart for the first time ever. With this strange, alien concept, suddenly, goodness was born in him, and he desired to be benevolent. He will start by helping this prince; there must be a way to circumvent, at least some of that dire portended peril, and so, he raked (combed) his brains for doable succor (assistance, support).

Oh, but wait, there was still more! …  

Dwengzur’s innate powers had suddenly detected this, surprising (unbidden), telepathic divulgence (acknowledgement, transmission) emanating from Prince Nevetsecnuac’s subconscious mind. This part had been prior hidden from Dwengzur, because Prince Nevetsecnuac was entirely ignorant of it as well. 

04- THE UNEXPECTED REVELATION

What was that?!  The updated information that was, unpredictably forthcoming, revealed to Dwengzur now- because of his rare, outstanding clairvoyant abilities to see the past events, not in entirety but sometimes in erratic glimpses, manifestations, and this had been one such glitch- was most extraordinary revelation to assimilate. An electrifyingly startling fact that it was, it temporarily halted (paused)his breath and interrupted Dwengzur’s core being (his vital essence).

Even so, taking hold of his senses, Dwengzur accepted the full measure of this streaming account, and now he became indubitably aware of these starkly dangerous revelations that had rushed to compound his worry:

Prince Nevetsecnuac’s lineage, from maternal side, was…. This new revelation shocked Dwengzur to the core; he could not believe what he was assimilating (absorbing, learning) … He had also acquired the vital, most sobering, shocking revelations about Nevetsecnuac’s innate (distinctive) genetic factors… It explained, why his existence (life) was so vital (imperative) to Elder Aegeus, Elder Olavingemar, Elder Sthetor and more importantly, to Zonar. Now that he knew the identity of Nevetsecnuac’s mother,  with that dawned the realization that this young man was nephew of… Zonar…. And furthermore, he carried the ancient bloodline, akin Elder Aegeus (of Karn) and Kongrus, of Elder Olavingemar and Elder Sthetor … and much, much more… The presaged (portended) consequences were astounding! Oh my!

Dwengzur had considered it, only for a spell, to readily let his master acquire this knowledge at the time of his inevitable capture; the shock of it, might spare him from the severest part of his punishment, the dreaded chastisement, result of his audacious feat, his absconding (escaping) from his prison.

Dwengzur, shook his head dismally, knowing all too well of his master’s temperament, aware (understanding) also that nothing would lessen his certain, horrific reprimand (penalty).

In truth, Dwengzur hated his master, for his long borne (endured) cruel enslavement…. His master was entirely devoid of any feeling or mercy; besides which, Dwengzur suspected, his master (more a warden), his everlasting tormentor, was more ambitious than he led on, and that he for a long while, not unlike Sthetor, had espoused a secret agenda….

If his master acquired (learned, absorbed) any of these forbidden facts and chose to collude with Sthetor, this remarkable being’s life would be forfeit…Nevetsecnuac would be hunted down and eliminated instantly by Sthetor.

As for the prophesy…Dwengzur wanted that to happen... Hah, what a joke! Here was a rare chance for retribution (payback, reconning).  He wanted the Elders of Karn completely obliterated, consequence of kinfolk (clan, relations) pitted against each other, paving the way for an absolute domination of both realms. The altruistic Karn’s swift elimination would then be a certainty after the annihilation of all mortal realms, as Sthetor had always been the secret vassal of the restrained, ultimate evil incarnate…

Dwengzur pensively nodded in the affirmative when the stark realization set in; by then, he’d fully comprehended (grasped) the high stakes, convinced now that this anomaly (incongruity), this young prince endowed (gifted) with such remarkable faculty (prowess and rare bloodline from both parents), had solely the potential, a unique variance to alter even his (Dwengzur’s) doomed existence. Moreover, he wished to protect this gallant youth… and felt strongly that the prince deserved to live and accomplish what he was destined to do. Thus, it was imperative that his master be forbad (prevented, hindered) from acquiring any of this vital info he now possessed! He was also determined to keep this secret, everlastingly, not only from his master but also from the Elders of Karn and more importantly, the evil incarnate Sthetor of Kongruls.

A deep concern, subsequently, furrowed his brow, for he did not know how best to stop his master from acquiring this data the instant (moment) Dwengzur was captured and claimed, and this inevitability was only a matter of time. Long before this, he’d resigned himself to the anticipated tenfold hellish torment for his already committed breach; so why not compound his deemed felonious acts, with just one more: That’s right, there was that!

He smiled. There was only one way to keep all the pertinent data about Nevetsecnuac’s true origin (ancestry), as well, the info about the magic brush/sword, from ever being disclosed; he would permanently erase, purge it entirely, from both his conscious and subconscious mind, by way of “Expunging (purging) Hex”.

This recently acquired unusual incantation (spell) had once before, enabled him to escape certain repercussions from his master. That memory being removed, he could not recall what blunder (fault) had been which needed erased, what it was about, except that it had something to do with being duped by Egil Viggoaries …. what? Why was he thinking of …. shapeshifting? No matter…. Dwengzur shrugged, and focusing instead, on the present dilemma, he disdainfully (scornfully) grunted.  Hmm, unfortunately, he’d paid a hefty consequence (price) after invoking that Spell! 

That awful repercussion being still so fresh in his memory, that excruciating pain… he was naturally reluctant to repeat it. But feeling genuine remorse for what he had done to this fine prince, also for selfish reasons, wanting to get back at his master and wanting to beget willful harm to Elders of Karn- Dwengzur, first isolating and then concentrating (focusing) on the specific memories- he hastily invoked “Expunging Hex”, before he had a chance to change his mind.

05- DWENGZUR  PERFORMING -EXPUNGING HEX

After it was all over, what he wished to forget completely expunged from memory and, thankfully his suffering had assuaged, specific memories completely gone (being removed), he could not rightly recall what blunder (fault) he had committed this time. Despite the brain fog however, he felt the urgency of it and that it had something to do with the scholar, Fradel Rurik Korvald and that he needed it to fix it. Something about a mistake…. Dwengzur, turned and apologetically stared (gazed, took a good long look) at Fradel…Or , rather Nevetsecnuac, that’s right, he now recollected, that was his true name.

“If your cause is just, you will have had the protection of Gods … That is what’s need now.”  Dwengzur moaned; he hesitated for a moment, fearing the possible dreaded outcome of using the neutralizing “Ne-Tashork” spell, on Nevetsecnuac. Then, bracing self, Dwenzur intoned (chanted, hummed) the counter spell to and afterwards, blew a breath onto Nevetsecnuac's face.

As he waited, he inwardly prayed for the other’s true self to emerge unscathed from that violent intrusion. For a second, feeling like an eternity, nothing had changed in those blank eyes then, to Dwengzur’s great relief, he saw the rekindled (embers,) smoldering fires of anger, increasing in intensity in Nevetsecnuac's pupils.

Instantly, Nevetsecnuac knew his true identity had been exposed. "Now that you know, just what are your intentions?"  Livid with rage, he was prepared to die if needed be, in the attempt to stop Dwengzur.

Unexpectedly, Dwengzur smiled and bowed to Nevetsecnuac respectfully. His voice filled with unmistakable remorse; he apologized for his presumption and quickly reminded the prince of the policy of noninterference.

"You have grievously misjudged me," he added in a hurtful tone. "I truly meant you no real harm. Besides, all this could have been avoided had you instead of goading (provoking), exhibited least bit of faith (trust) in me. Naturally, I had consulted the stars and already knew the fated outcome before I warned Egil Viggories about Fradel Rurik Korvald, or rather yourself.  I knew even then that none of the Dark Eunuch’s actions would alter anything, and they didn't, had they? You are here safe, are you not?"

Nevetsecnuac was about to respond when he was cut short by a sudden mounting sound of an angry thunder overhead that shook the building to its foundations. To his amazement he noted the undisguised fear in Dwengzur's eyes.

 

 “What…  Is he trembling?” 

 

                                                                                 ~

 

 (END OF SECTION 7)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE CAPITAL CHANNING – SECTION 10 

In truth, Zaur Stugr had searched long and hard for these many years and had finally given up all hope of ever uncovering the truth and of finding out what had happened to his father. Then, just when he least expected it, because of the strange twist of fate the answer had miraculously reached out to him.

“I must relay the message through a courier (an affiliate Kozur) at dawn to, without further ado, retrieve my father's remains from that hellish pit.” Zaur Stugr nodded with resolve. Unfortunately, Zaur’s full schedule did not allowed him to leave the Capital to supervise the work himself, for nothing short of a miracle, would enable him to facilitate his being absent from his official duties long enough to conduct a proper burial with full rights and ceremony befitting the station of his Father. The burden of his office was most exacting (demanding, rigorous) on his time, same as every other official regardless of their status in Channing, for each official was constantly monitored, their every action and allotted time incessantly regulated and documented (registered), under the entrenched (engrained) layers of bureaucracy with its rigid regulatory standards and lawful domination. Not a single unsanctioned intake of breath could be taken without dire repercussions, under such oppressive and absolute rule of Emperor Zakhertan Yozdek.

01-ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (44)JP

 “Perhaps when this whole business with Fradel Rurik Korvald is concluded I may find the means; I promise you, Father, your spirit will find eternal peace in Heaven while your foul murderers will pay for their nefarious deeds in Hell.”  In irritation Zaur drummed his fingers upon the box.

If only he was free, free to do what he wished without the piercing eyes of Lamont Gudaren, Zakhertan’s invincible militia and that cursed Eunuch’s Black Molochs monitoring his every move!  Regardless of all the power he wielded, and yes, he was a covert (surreptitious) rebel leader, nonetheless existing (functioning) and even thriving, under the domineering, tyrannical canopy; unfortunately, at this very moment he’d realized he was nothing but a pawn of capricious fate after all. Indubitably, in the end, his every feat (act, achievement, engagement), encounters had been preordained (predetermined, fated) by the Heavenly Gods ‘dictates.

“And you, oh my most unfortunate Father, your fate had always been far more tragic than mine could ever be!” Zaur Stugr, shamefaced, groaned, recalling Sorgun's confession to him that night long ago when Zaur was a young boy…Young and utterly innocent.

 Only years later had Zaur comprehended the full implications of those words and, from then on, had remained eternally grateful to Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon. He had henceforth honored His Lordship's memory in secret each year, on the day of Festival for the Dead.  He owed so much to Lord Zhon for all that he had done to extricate his father from the wrongful indictment and later still, for restoring him to his rightful (position) status.  But then because of the capriciousness of fate, more troubles had beset them.

Zaur Stugr’s mind presently recollected those perilous times back then, with the country in the grips of chaos (turmoil) and incessant wars, remembering most vividly, his father's sleepless nights that were spent endlessly pouring over documents, attending clandestine meetings, arranging for the provisions of armaments and his ceaselessly pacing the floor in his study until the (wee) small hours of the morning. 

Then, once more being constrained to flee, they had journeyed to far away alien lands where they had encountered (met) strange people with different (unfamiliar) dialects and customs; only to covertly return, though remain invisible, amid mainstream (ordinary) denizen obscurity (anonymity).

“Oh, father!  Father! “Zaur Stugr’s heart ached as if he had just become an orphan once more.  He leaned back, lowering his eyelids on the tears that welled up unbidden.

Zaur choked, recalling another time and another place that seemed like an eternity ago.

Zaur saw it all again in his mind’s eye, as vividly as if it was just happening before him that last exchange with his father, Sorgun Dufo. (Note: Learn all about Sorgun Dufo, in Book 6- The Assassins- Section 10)

02-- SORGUN DUFO

Sorgun Dufo stroked his son’s hair with a grave face and looked into his young eyes.  "Now, pay attention, Kundrick."

“Kundrick Dufo,” Zaur softly whispered his childhood name; he had not the occasion to think of it for many years now.

 "Listen son, circumstances dictate that I should go away for a while.  Wenjenkun is in the grip of grave peril, and I have it within my (power) means to alter its ill-fated course.  I must undertake a very dangerous task, and time is of the essence.  Hopefully I will achieve my goal and spare this nation of ours from the impending catastrophe.  Though you may be only a child my son, you are strong enough to be entrusted with grave responsibility.  Take this box and guard it with your life, if necessary, until my return.  You must not fail in this, for inside is proof of the allegations I will be bringing before our Illustrious Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir. Without them all is lost."

Zaur Stugr caressed the box once more, holding it as he had gripped it as a child (of about nine years old), feeling the weight of its importance. 

"In the meantime,", Sorgun had continued, "I have arranged for you to remain in the good care of my old friend, Sanzo Tezcat.  I know you are a strong-willed boy despite your polite manners, and I charge you now to behave and do as Sanzo says. Do not give me the least cause to regret this decision.  When I return to reclaim the box, I will explain everything to you, in full detail." 

But his father never returned.

“As discerning as you were, Father,” Zaur Stugr smiled wryly, “even you did not grasp how you were being played (toyed) by fickle fate.  You did not perceive, had no way of knowing of Sanzo's secret life.  How things might have turned out differently, had either of you, more specifically him, breached that wall of secrecy and taken the other, you, into confidence.  You are not entirely to blame though father; after all, you pursued a common cause and trusted him (a confirmed bachelor) well enough to leave me, your only son, in his care. “

“It was clearly not negligence on your part; perhaps it was Sanzo's excellent disguise, crafted so well it had fooled even a childhood friend such as you.” Zaur lowered his head in woeful air.

“How capricious fate is.”

To be sure, (definitely) Sanzo Tezcat had been a master of camouflage; what’s more, he had been bound by his blood oath of allegiance sworn in complete secrecy to the Sacred Brotherhood of the Kozurs.  Since even blood relatives were kept in the dark (unless it was sanctioned by the brotherhood to reveal it, and that happened hardly ever,) Sanzo Tezcat could not have confided in Sorgun Dufo even if he had desperately wanted to, even if it were to save his own life.  So serious were the repercussions of breaking the oath that even the most horrible death was preferable to betraying the Brotherhood.

 

03- SANZO TESCAT (2)

Zaur’s noble father had never suspected that this bookish (studious, thoughtful), benevolent, and foolishly idealistic, equable (composed, placid) erudite (scholarly, historian), who always seemed to be lost in some fantasy world of his own so distant from the crude realities of present life and politics, was anything more than what he seemed.  And so, at the time, Sanzo Tezcat must have seemed the ideal, safe candidate to entrust with the safekeeping of young Kundrick Dufo.  Besides, Sorgun Dufo's own scruples and good conscience would not have permitted him to involve (or recruit) his childhood friend Sanzo, this idealistic, gentle soul into the perilous, clandestine struggle that took up his every waking moment.

Perhaps that was the root, true basis for his father's undoing; he should have looked deeper into the man’s soul, should have questioned the obvious when it came too easily.  Sanzo, a wolf in sheep's clothing, would have proved invaluable in altering the course of Sorgun's doom.

Vividly Zaur recalled the look of panic in Sanzo Tezcat 's eyes when, just three days after leaving with Sorgun Dufo on a mission, Tojo Tugo was spotted (was seen) in the crowd across the market square.

In an instant metamorphosis, Sanzo had dropped all semblance of his benign, placid (docile) disguise and clearly incensed (irked), hastened (rushed) Kundrick home at once.  Within the space of an hour, they were packed and ready for the flight to disappear in hiding.  Cursing furiously, Sanzo Tezcat had slammed things about and committed countless, obviously important documents to the roaring flames of the kitchen fire.

Despite his forced restraint, Zaur gritted his teeth and cursed the name, Tojo, Tojo Tugo, father of Imperial Captain Zunrogo Tugo.

 “May you burn like dry leaves in Hell for your treachery! “Zaur scowling cussed (swore, cursed).

Many nights since the time when he had first pieced the facts together, Zaur Stugr had anguished over the dilemma. 

Zunrogo Tugo had been a mere child back then, could he be held morally accountable for his father's heinous crimes?  In the end Zaur had exonerated Zunrogo from all blame and did not exact lawful revenge on him.

Despite this resolve, Zaur Stugr had held, in the depth of his heart, a strong dislike for Captain of the Palace Guards, Zunrogo Tugo.  If it were up to him, alone, the Undersecretary's Office would have had no dealings whatsoever with this arrogant, martinet (despot, bully).  Unfortunately, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren had long ago recognized Zunrogo’s specific talents and, over the course of the ensuing years had engaged his increasingly invaluable services to successfully carry out the most difficult of the Prime Minister's sinister schemes.

As Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s avowed subordinate (in official capacity), Minister Zaur Stugr was constrained to maintain an outward (superficial) civil relation with Zunrogo, son of Tojo the traitor; and when bid to do so, enable (facilitate) the despised Captain to augment (expand) his influence and fortunes. Despite solid evidence, Zaur suspected Zunrogo Tugo of having other affiliates, moreover, a far more powerful patron (benefactor) than PM, not ruling out the possibility of that sponsor being someone from the Royal Yozdek Family.

At this point Zaur's mind, unexpectedly, reverted to his childhood.

"How will Father find us?  I'm not going anywhere." Zaur remembered crying out as he squirmed and wrestled against the servants with all his might, steadfastly refusing to budge an inch. 

That was the first time that Zaur (Kurndrick Dufo) had ever defied his father's dictate.

Zaur smiled, recalling how stubborn and cheeky (rebellious) he’d been back then.

 As it were, when threat, force and reasoning failed to sway Kundrick Dufo, the steward Lios then had resorted to a ruse.  Pretending to have briefly consulted Sanzo Tezcat, wily (crafty) Lios had, by choosing his words very carefully, reassured Kundrick that Sorgun Dufo had already sent word to Sanzo that he would meet with them at their intended destination once his pursuers were thrown off his trail.

04- FEARLES KUNDRICK DUFO

When defiant Kundrick had boldly confronted his guardian in his study later still, demanding Sanzo validate this info, Sanzo Tezcat had simply suppressed an outward venting of his displeasure (at this obstinate upstart) and glared sternly at Kundrick.

 His gruff silence had, oddly enough, reaffirmed in Kundrick’s mind that the words Lios had spoken were the truth.  Thus beguiled, Kundrick Dufo (Zaur Stugr) had then complied willingly with all that was expected of him. 

After they had fled to safety, Kundrick had waited fruitlessly for many a day, looking forward to that time when he would be reunited with his father. Every night before going to sleep he’d envisioned (in his mind’s eye) the joyful event, how he would eagerly, elatedly greet his father and then excitedly blather away, recounting (relaying) the many hair-raising adventures he had already experienced.

When their urgent flight to safety had warranted a third move within one year, Kundrick Dufo bit more wizened (more able to discern a lie from the truth) and skeptical, this time he’d adamantly stood his ground, obstinate and unafraid.  Raising quite a ruckus he’d demanded the full explanation he felt was his right to have. On the verge of being bound, gagged, and forcibly transported, Sanzo Tezcat just then arriving on the disordered scene, in an icy tone (a voice commanding absolute obedience), had barked, “Put the boy down.”

Zaur could still envisage (visualize, picture) the riveting scene, how Sanzo’s brief, forbidding look that fanned the room had instantly frozen all commotion (clamor) and frenzied protestations.

 A tomblike (deadly) lethal tension had gripped the room as all, save for Kundrick, stood perfectly still with their heads lowered in abject contrition.

Sanzo Tezcat with slow, deliberate steps, hands clasped behind him, walked over to the window, and gazed absently outside; he stood there for what seemed an eternity, his hand then (grasping) resting on the hilt of his partially hidden stiletto (an ancient, ceremonial dagger). Sanzo’s dark green, piercing eyes subsequently had reverted back to Kundrick Dufo; noting with some amusement, the boy’s adamant stance and the unflinching stare of defiance returned back to him, Sanzo simply nodded.

In truth, despite the just then wavering, inexplicable fear Kundrick had felt in the pit of his stomach, determined not to show any weakness, he had obdurately (pig-headedly) tunneled his hard gaze into Sanzo's eyes.

The steward Lios, having been rather fond of the indomitable boy and at that moment fearing for his safety, had defied his subservient place to cough gently and to flash Kundrick with a worried look.

Quite unexpectedly however, Sanzo's face had suddenly softened (relaxed) and he threw his head back and gave a loud, boisterous laugh that resounded in the tense stillness of the air.

"Ignorance makes a lion of the lamb (young sheep)." Kundrick thought he heard Sanzo Tezcat grumble under his breath as he walked over (drew near) to the boy and seated himself comfortably into a plush chair.

“Who’s he calling a lamb?” Zaur remembered well, how he’d inwardly seethed in rage at the time. He was a real firebrand (a troublemaker, a real hothead) back then.

Kundrick’s fury unleashed he stood ready to pounce on Sanzo, “I’ll show him...” 

But then, steward Lios, catching the boy's attention just then, his eyes had implored Kundrick to keep still and to concede, warning him of dire chastisement if he persisted with his defiance.

05-SANZO TESCAT (10)

Sanzo Tezcat, well composed, with his hard gaze glued to Kundrick Dufo, had pondered on a concern for quite some time, as though the urgency of their flight had never existed and as if they had all the time in the world to spare.  In contrast, these precarious moments had dragged on, for Kundrick and presumably, for his friend and ally, Lios.

Then unexpectedly Sanzo had slightly leaned forward and indicated that Kundrick was to take the seat across from him as, with a singular look, he dismissed the steward and the rest of the servants from the room.  Kundrick Dufo, unflinchingly never taking his eyes once off his guardian, had complied.

Instead of the admonishment he had expected, however, Sanzo had, in a sympathetic, patient tone, promised that one day, when it was appropriate for him to do so, Kundrick would receive all the pertinent knowledge that he sought and that he, Sanzo himself, would answer unequivocally all Kundrick’s queries without the least reserve.

“Until then,” Sanzo had austerely ejected next, “it would be most dangerous for a boy of your stature (station), to possess too much knowledge.”

Looking away Sanzo had then in a softer tone distractedly added, “And since it seems we would be together for quite a long while, I prefer to have our relationship be, more affable (amiable).”

Sanzo, rebounding from that momentary sentiment quickly however, had again austerely exhorted (urged) Kundrick to behave, as his father would have wanted him to, with the decorum becoming of his station and to show the perseverance and self-discipline that was his innate (inherent) good breeding. 

Most incredible, Sorgun Dufo had been one of those rare, exceptional individuals (persons) who had won Sanzo's eternal gratitude and affection. Fortunately for Kundrick Dufo, he had been the beneficiary of all that respect Sanzo had held (felt) for his father and, though the boy had been nothing but a liability thus far, in fact, by this last defiant spectacle (demonstration) worn rather thin his privilege, Kundrick, as sole exception, had still been tolerated by his guardian.  Zaur had learned years later how dangerously close he’d come to being slayed that day.

It had taken tremendous amount of self-control on Sanzo’s part, not to have lashed out and simply offed (killed) the boy; in the end, during his pondering Sanzo seeing something in the boy, (in fact Kundrick had reminded him of his own unruly childhood-self,) that Sanzo had decided from henceforth, to judge the boy on his own merit (instead of his father's) and to give him one last chance.

Sanzo then had communicated to Kundrick in no uncertain terms that, if he wished to remain under his guardianship and in his good graces, absolute obedience was required and expected of him. The underlying tone of this last part (of Sanzo’s speech) had been most firm and severe, leaving no room for discussion or negotiation.

 

(END OF SECTION 10)

 

                                                                                   ~

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL – SECTION 32

 

 With nothing else left to do, Tizan donned (wore, put on) Captain Duko's attire over the light armor he kept on underneath to protect him from arrows then, as ordered, went back below decks to retrieve (fetch) Disaidun Agripe.

This time quite unexpectedly, Disaidun’s spineless husband, having mustered all his courage, charged at Tizan just as they were headed out the door. 

 

01- CEROS AGRIPE STRIKES BACK

Though Ceroz Agripe was half-crazed, filled with remorse and rage, he was still no match for the Lieutenant of Imperial guards and so, with just one blow from the back of his fist, hardly any effort at all on Tizan's part, Ceroz was hurled right across the room, bloodied and almost cataleptic (almost out cold), to crash onto the floor of the cabin.

 "You dare oppose me, wretch!" Tizan’s rage not assuaged, growling he went over to deliver a couple of vicious kicks to the Ceroz's side; the force of the second kick was such, it lifted the massive body up and slammed (smashed, crashed) it against the far wall of the cabin.

 

02- CEROS AGRIPE KICKED TO FAR END

 Tizan turned his fiery gaze back to the woman Disaidun Agripe and bellowed.  "What have you done to him to bring him to such a state?"

Not condescending to answer, Disaidun Agripe simply shrugged and walked on ahead.

“Quite the vixen, aren't you?” Tizan smirked as he locked and barred the door behind them.  In truth he liked a woman with such spunk but, since Captain Zunrogo had taken special interest in her, she was off-limits to him.  Such was the rule he had always lived by and continued to follow. 

Grabbing Disaidun Agripe’s arm forcefully next, and ignoring her volley of threats, he lugged (toted) her to the barricade.  "This is your post.  The captain forbids you to stray an inch from this point…  Understand?"  Only then Tizan let go of her arm. He was inwardly thrilled at her repressed seething contempt for him, and could not help but provoke her further, "We have only a few hours now before the fog lifts.  If you want to pray for your salvation, go ahead; now may be your only chance."  He smirked.

 

Her retort froze on her lips when her eye just then caught the exceptionally crafted crossbow leaning in the far corner.  Walking over, Disaidun Agripe picked it up, examined it carefully and said, “Where did you find this?  It’s magnificent."

Then, she sedately withdrew an arrow from its quiver.

 

“Show off, as if you can discern a good weapon from a bad one.  Some maven (expert, professional, doyen) you are.” He’d inwardly scoffed, fixing his cold gaze at her; Tzan once more could not resist goading (inciting) her, "You do know how to use it, I trust?".

 

Disaidun Agripe did not answer him but, instead, loaded the arrow in the blink of an eye then aimed it directly at Tizan's heart and asked. “Do you want a demonstration?"

This was too much!  Throwing his head back and trusting his hidden armor, Tizan laughed heartily, "Go ahead, I dare you to."

 

03-TZAN JP

Just then Zunrogo appeared on the scene, his stern looks at once sending Tizan without another word, scurrying off to above deck, to take up his assigned post.

Disaidun Agripe’s (Jepipi's) alluring approach was met with the same icy rebuke.

Not taking it to heart, she behaved as if he bade her, sizing up Zunrogo from the corner of her eye and admiring his heroic countenance.

 

“By the Gods, he is magnificent! “Gearing up for this single, bitter battle, she was positive he would triumph over any foe, however invincible, before the end of the day.

                                                                                         ~

 

For seemingly endless hours now, Disaidun Agripe (Miss Jepipi) had fidgeted at her post.  These times preceding an engagement (battle) had always seemed to drag on forever; furthermore, the angry rants and ravings of her half-crazed husband Ceroz, only two doors down aggravated her soul and ignited her ire, making things far worse.

“Oh, why won't he shut up?” Disaidun Agripe groaned, for her conscience bothered her a little now; after all, it was she who had brought him to this state.

“But it was necessary,” she told herself to ease the guilt.  “I had to do what I did to survive.  Why couldn't he be a bit more like his half-brother?  Insipid fool brought this misfortune down upon himself because he's less of a man, he’s so weak! “Her face contorted in disgust.

 

                                                                             ~

 

Yesterday, upon her return from her blissful experience with Zunrogo, she had hesitated for a few moments outside the cabin door, just long enough to dishevel her hair, loosen her belt, scratch her shoulders, and rip her bodice slightly, altering her appearance and assuming a tragic countenance.

 Let inside and, finally free (away) from Tizan's prying eyes, Disaidun had then given an incredible performance of a woman who had been both physically and mentally abused.

 

Ceroz Agripe already looked haggard, his face unusually gaunt and pale, and his eyes sunken and bloodshot.  It tore at his heart and ripped his bowels to shreds, nearly driving him to the brink of insanity to hear Disaidun’s embellished accounts of the shameful mauling (pawing, battering) that she had supposedly endured at the hands of that vile, lecherous old official, Luvet. That’s right; not Zunrogo but Luvet, her husband was led to believe, was the supposed sole perpetrator of this grievous sexual assault on his beloved wife Disaidun.

 

04- LUVET

Luvet’d spared her face but not her body, under her garments, she’d claimed, was all black and blue as testament of his ill treatment. She had brazenly offered to show it to him but Ceroz, the fool, trusting in her implicitly, simply taken her at her word.

Ceroz Agripe was further led to believe that, behind Luvet's seemingly benign, quiet disposition lay a calculating, sinister, greedy, licentious, and vindictive villain who had, from the moment he’d laid eyes on Disaidun, lusted after her and from then on shamelessly had striven (endeavored) to possess her.

The convincing story Disaidun fed her husband was wretched enough in itself but her quiet tears, her unspoken insinuations just compounded Ceroz’s already intolerable existence, his unbearable misery. Highly incensed, Ceroz Agripe’d gnashed his teeth, shaken his fist in the air and vowed to exact vengeance on that dog's spawn. 

“He'd make him pay dearly for his vile deeds, enlist the help of his half-brother, Zohuj Kez and his influential friends, if needs be.”

"And how do you propose to survive this present danger?  You know you're powerless to stop him or them."  Disaidun had rebuked him, then relayed to him the information she’d overheard, when they thought she’d passed out, in Luvet’s cabin.

Luvet the mastermind, Ceroz Agripe came to believe, had conspired from the start with Captain Doku, the two assassins, the Imperial guard Tizan and Captain Zunrogo, and the seemingly upright scholar, to intercept in mid-stream a tribute vessel bound for the Capital with its cargo of gold bullion.

The details of this grand larceny had been worked out months in advance, down to the minutest point and, the specific measures needed for smooth transition and the eventual execution, now had been finalized.  Many more were involved in a scheme of this magnitude, including some subversives planted on the targeted vessel. The few expendable passengers/witnesses, like them, were all imprisoned in their cabins, to be dealt with later; their predictable demise, however, would eliminate (eradicate) any possibility of trouble later-on.

Then she reminded her husband how she had wanted to disembark along with the other, lucky passengers when the opportunity had availed itself, when there was still time.

She blamed him, on his short-sightedness, his eagerness to reach his new post, and consequently, for this terrible predicament.

Her ill luck had also been the contributor. She then softening, had exclaimed, looking as though she desperately sought to exonerate at least in part, his guilt, which further endeared her to him, “How wonderful she was; how so very naïve to believe in nonsensical superstition.” Fool that he was, she could read him like a book.

 

05-CEROS AND DISAIDUN AGRIPE

 “Oh, darling husband, what can we do, what can you do to save me?” Once more she had wept unconsolably, heart wrenchingly.  After which, when she, feeling terribly parched, dried her eyes, and asked her husband to fetch her some water from the jug.

Her husband eager to please and to console her had rushed to do her bidding.

 It was at that point in time, when she looking even more dismal (gloomy), robbed him of least hope, by telling him that before she was sent back, she had been told, but was afraid to tell him till then, how the villain Luvet intended to murder Ceroz and the baby and if she did not agree to be his concubine in future, he threatened to sell her into slavery (bondage).

As for the reasons why, she had been sent back, it was simply to allow her to say her final farewells, while they finalized their plan and corrected prior overlooked areas of incongruity (conflict ).

"Oh, dear husband our bliss has been so cruelly cut short; as doomed individuals we are, robbed of ecstasy of growing old together. You’ll never see your son grow up. He’ll never grow up! “Disaidun Agripe had looked at him with hurtful, resigned eyes then burst into loud sobs to once more, wrench his heart.

She’d watched (seen) from the corner of her eye how self-loathing and reproach gnawed at his entrails, how flustered, how sickened at heart he’d suddenly felt, in his dire predicament.

For a brief second, seeing how she had broken him with her words, she had felt the stirring of remorse tugging at her conscience; but she had already resolved in Zunrogo's cabin to carry this ploy through to the bitter end.

"Don't worry, husband," her heart again hardened, she had seized this opportunity to add salt to his open wounds.

 "I will not blame you for what will happen to me in future. As I said earlier, I was born under an unlucky star; it has been my curse my entire life.  I don't see why it should change now.  I'm grateful for this one brief period of happiness you have given me.  It will be one fond memory I will carry with me to my grave."

Then once again Disaidun Agripe had recounted in detail, the shameful episodes with Luvet; at the end of which, she’d thrown herself at her husband’s feet, imploring him to have mercy and, by killing her right there and then, put an end to her torment.

 Of course, Disaidun knew Ceroz was totally incapable of such an act.  It was just one more pummel of guilt, another whack of disgrace, all, fostering chagrin, to further constrict the loop (strap, noose, snare, rope) around her husband’s neck, to sap his honor, his manhood and ultimately, push him over the edge.

Egged on by her pleading the fool had tried, given it his best shot too; to predictably in the end, when, she had started to turn ashen, when her eyes had bulged out only a little and, she had started to emit slight gurgling sounds, he had suddenly broken off his grip on her neck and then, with a horrified look on his face, fallen back.

"I can't go through with it! I'm no murderer." He’d cried out.

 “What did I almost do?” Traumatized Ceroz Agripe had glared hatefully at those still partially clenched, despicable hands that had almost taken the life of his beloved wife.

He had next, burying his face and fallen on his knees, had sobbed hysterically, uncontrollably, like a child.

 

06- DISRAUGHT CEROS AGRIPE

Disaidun Agripe, her senses restored to norm, though inwardly sullen, going over, had murmured her encouragement. "It’s all right, dear.  You did nothing wrong. I asked you to; I made you do it. You are not to be blamed. You are a good man; you always were.  We’ll be all right."  She'd then sobbed inconsolably as she cradled him and rocked his head soothingly in her arms.  "Please don't cry.”

 Drying her tears, she’d then to further shame him, promised resolutely, “You need not try, dear; I’ll find the strength somehow for us both and, avenge this wrong. This time I'll find it in myself too..."  She did not have to complete her sentence, for he had understood (grasped) her meaning. 

Disaidun would rather end her own life by throwing herself into the cold river and perishing in the watery grave, than suffer further shame. 

Her strong determination only belittled him further, robbing what little bit of humanity was left within him.  He felt smaller than a maggot, slime, a piece of offal.

 

 

                                                                              ~

 

 

(END OF SECTION 32)