LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 7

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 7

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) at present graciously handed the key to Zaur when the minister politely inquired about it, seeing no reason at all, to why he should not enlist Zaur Stugr's help in resolving this mystery. 

01- THE MYSTERIOUS KEY

“Oh blessed, gracious Heaven!  After all this time you've reached me from beyond.” Zaur Stugr wanted to cry out loud, holding back his tears.

"It's probably nothing of consequence." Zaur had finally ejected as a matter-of-factly, pressing (puckering, compressing) his lips and feigning mild interest, as he held on to the key.

"It is a pretty thing, though.  Isn't it?” Zaur looked directly at Fradel, and at the same time tried making light of the object.  "I dare say it’s of unusual construction.”

“Unfortunately," Zaur then shook his head, "I can't decipher these strange pictographs, these antiquated, curvilinear indentations at the base of the stem."  He reached over and pointed them out to Fradel (Nevetsecnuac).

Zaur’s not altogether convincing professed ignorance, after his brief scrutiny of the key, had again peaked Nevetsecnuac's interest.

 "Up to now, I confess, I've prided myself on being quite an expert at finding the meanings of these sort symbols, pictographs.  I have a sizable collection of similar curiosities at my disposal.  Naturally, they are kept out of harm's way for private viewing only.  Not everyone shares my interest, you see.” Zaur was now being unusually talkative, which further apexed Nevetsecnuac’s curiosity.

"My wife has harangued me often enough to dispose of such antiquities, insisting that I stay within the bounds of modern taste.  If you're interested, however, I would be delighted (most happy) to show them to you when we are better disposed." Zaur Stugr rattled on, playing the eccentric fool.  Inwardly he was considering his options, devising ways of procuring the key without raising the scholar's curiosity.

 

02-THE KEY AND THE BOX

The fact that the pictographs were identical to the ones on the box Zaur had in his secret possession (he’d kept in the secret compartment) had confirmed what he had all along suspected.

Just then, mixed feelings of apprehension, relief and dread washed over Zaur Stugr and gripped his heart.  Oddly enough, he was now afraid of finding out the truth.  He had long since given up, never expecting to see this key again, much less holding it in his palm. “I have spent most of my life searching for this key, expecting it to resolve my lifelong, anguished dilemma.” He solemnly ruminated (mused).

As it happens, the key resting on his palm had conjured up memories both pleasant and dreadful.  All the hopeful waiting, the heartbreak, the loneliness!  Suddenly Zaur was most anxious to get away from the inquisitive scrutiny of Fradel Rurik Korvald and to get at the box. 

“No!” he checked his impatience.  There was still much that had to be learned and a few things he needed to make certain of first.  His eyes, leaving the key, looked up sharply.

"Have you shown this item to anyone else…Zunrogo, perhaps?" Zaur made a deliberate effort at feigning a moderate interest.

03-ZAUR STUGR JP 8

Going along with his host's charade, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) simply complacently smiled and shook his head.   "No, with everything that has been happening lately, I'd actually forgotten its existence."

 Curiously enough, Nevetsecnuac's answer seemed to reassure Zaur Stugr and, a sure elated smile widened (in a curvature) his host's lips.

 “You know full well, all about it, don't you?” Nevetsecnuac silently questioned his host; but Zaur’s youthful age precluded him from (being directly involved) having any direct involvement. Regardless, the key certainly had some personal significance to Zaur.  Suddenly the picture was much clearer to Nevetsecnuac.  Zaur Stugr had positively identified the key and knew exactly who it had belonged to.  He could therefore, if properly coaxed, unravel the identity of at least one of those tortured skeletons.  

Zaur Stugr’s seemingly placid face was fanned by the light breeze which carried on it the intoxicating fragrance of the night air and he had remained distractedly quiet for some time, his mind immersed in a serious recollection.

“What are you afraid of exposing after such an obvious timespan?  Why would you disclaim any knowledge of its importance to you?  Nevetsecnuac, however, made no outward inquiry and, instead, waited patiently for Zaur's next response.

Marshaling his thoughts, Zaur Stugr suddenly turned to face Fradel and, with deliberate calm in his voice asked, "It is indeed a rare antique.  How did you manage to obtain it?"

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), in those lapsed few moments had already anticipated Zaur’s next question; he could not disclose the truth however, without revealing how he had ended up in the burial pit and, furthermore, escaped the inescapable traps. And so, he quietly reviewed his options of likely responses.

“I could claim I found it on the side of the road.  No that's too trite and would not be believed. What I need is a lame, boring explanation suited to a scholar, yet with enough of an angle to divert questions elsewhere.  Better to go with a partial fabrication with just enough fact to it to appear plausible.” 

Responding as a matter-of-factly now, Nevetsecnuac summed up in no uncertain terms his experience that had led to finding the key.

04-NEVETS ON HORSEBACK IN THE RAIN (2)

“It had all transpired at the time, while I was traveling on horseback alone on route to the Capital and, wanting to be innocuous, was garbed (dressed) in ordinary travelling clothes. This was a time well before my teaming up with Zunrogo Tugo and the guards.  That afternoon, caught in a sudden torrential downpour, I had sought a refuge at the roadside Inn/ tea house.                                 

“I had been enjoying my steamed tea and hot cakes when an old man, his tattered clothes soaked to the skin, also sought refuge in the same tea house.  Despite the cash that the old man had held out in his hand, he was rudely greeted by the proprietor, denied seating at any table, even though there were few empty ones about, and told to leave the premises at once.”

"Can't you see we're full up?  Go down the road!" The proprietor had rasped as he apprehensively looked around him, afraid that his other customers might be offended by the likes of this tattered old man.

"This is a respectable place.  No solicitation is allowed."  Turning a deaf ear to the old man's pleas, he signaled to his two hefty attendants (waiters) to at once dispose of this unwanted nuisance (pest, bug).

In the ensuing seconds hence, the old man was hastily hustled outside.” Fradel winced (cringed, recoiled) at this point with obvious abhorrence (loathing) of the proprietor.

Zaur nodded and grimaced wryly as he envisioned the typical scenario being played out repeatedly throughout the land.  “So, what's so odd about that? Cruelly he was driven out into the cold, pelting rain, so what about it?" Fradel Rurik Korvald’s obvious indignation just then baffled Zaur, and he riveted his keen, questioning gaze on the other's face.

“Ah!  Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald had lived in privileged seclusion all these years; therefore, he had not been exposed to the sweeping changes, the new brutish realities of the populace's everyday existence. Naturally, this would shock him.” The answer came to him quickly, Zaur nodded.

 "And no doubt, being the gentleman you are, you stood up to defend that poor wretch." Zaur’s downward gaze concealed the smirk on his lips and the scorn in his eyes.

As Zaur Stugr had expected, by his own account the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, unable to swallow this injustice, had indeed rushed to the old man's rescue.  Fradel had indignantly risen to his feet and called out to the old man, walked over and next greeted the elder with respectful familiarity. 

Ignoring the snarls and frowns of the manager and his staff, he had then guided the old man, named Yakkasar back to his table.

(Of course, Yakkasar was a made-up name which Nevetsecnuac on the spur had invented.)

 "I could not stand by and let this happen.  The injustice of it all fired my soul with seething rage." Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) abashedly explained.

At the outset Zaur expressed a sympathetic view and urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to please continue.  Seeming to lend an attentive ear, Zaur inwardly however, jeered with derision and tagged a few more items on to the list he had been mentally compiling of the presumed characteristics of his guest Fradel Rurik Korvald: “Fradel is righteously soft and sentimental; sentimental enough to patronize (support) the grave robbing scum of the earth.”

“And of course, you treated him to not just a tea but a complete, hot, full-course meal.”  Zaur (with his prejudiced viewpoint) wearyingly continued to listen to Fradel, inwardly filling in some details, to the old man Yakkasar's hard luck story.

Apparently, the old thief had been in hard straits and had starved for the two days prior to this chance encounter with the perfect stooge, Fradel Rurik Korvald.  Though he had flashed some money around, it had barely been enough for a cup of tea, as the rest had to have been reserved for his night's lodgings.  To one as destitute as him, Fradel Rurik Korvald must have appeared as a godsend. 

Sitting himself across from the scholar, he had polished off several dishes in record time then, with a bloated stomach, sat back to express his undying gratitude and praise his newfound friend to the sky.  Next, he had decisively recounted how his wife had been lost to him in the great flood of yesteryear and how, having escaped the disaster, he had settled in the foothills of town Huer where he had been constrained to carve out a meager livelihood and single-handedly raised his only surviving son, Toza, to adulthood. The other two children had succumbed to fatal diseases, no surprise there: shortly after his wife's tragic demise.  For the hardships he had endured he had been amply rewarded; while his son, the mighty hunter had lived, Yakkasar had not known any hardship, hunger, or misery.

“No one would dare tackle the local ruffian.” Zaur scoffed, growing more impatient with Fradel now. Disguising (veiling, masking) his irritation, however, he simply looked away, and with an unreadable expression, watched the shadows for a time dancing in the light breeze in the well-manicured (rimmed, shaped) garden.

05-GARDEN IN TWILIGHT

“Why was Fradel being so insistent in dragging this out?” Zaur shifted into his seat, having had already conceived of the only possible outcome to this story.

 “This purported hunter Yakkasar’s son Toza had no doubt recovered the key along with, only the gods know what else, and had probably been murdered in some other town trying to fence it.  A fitting end for his kind! The old geezer Yakkasar had survived long enough though, to span this lengthy yarn to Fradel.” Zaur lowered his gaze and affixed it back on the key. “But what would be the point of exposing this Yakkasar’s fraud and embarrassing the gullible Fradel Rurik Korvald?  What did it matter what fabrication the old rogue had been feeding the unsuspecting stranger like Fradel, as-long-as he, at least, had been truthful about the location where he had recovered the key.”

Experience had taught Zaur not to overlook the incidentals, the seemingly unrelated details that supported the main report.  Lacking in imagination, men of Yakkasar's sort often built a bridge of lies on pillars of truth to make their story more credible.  In this case even an approximation would be of some use.  With due patience therefore, Zaur had lent an uninterrupted, though a semi-disinterested ear to, Fradel Rurik Korvald’s present redundancies to gauge the true facts he really was after.

“Good!” Nevetsecnuac was inwardly pleased with the apparent result.  As he had surmised, a more elaborate story would have made Zaur dubious.  The naiveté of the narrative had expectedly played Zaur right in Nevetsecnuac's hands.

Nevetsecnuac at present drawing this out, painstakingly related in detail all Yakkasar’s tedious accounts about Toza’s great potential and his prospects.  Yakkasar then unexpectedly leaning closer to Fradel at one point, had supposedly whispered the pertinent details; how on one such routine hunting trip Toza had traversed some unfamiliar ground near a certain pass to get to an area where game could reportedly be had in abundance. The specifics of the topography which, Yakkasar had professed at that moment, had been rather hazy and bit hard for him to recollect.

This setback had inwardly infuriated Zaur; nevertheless, yet again admirably suppressed his ire and impatience.

Nevetsecnuac had of course deliberately, contrived (manufactured) the old man's forgetfulness at this point, as a means of excluding the credible detail Zaur expected or hoped to hear; subtly testing therefore, Zaur 's true intent and measure of his commitment.

 Nevetsecnuac knew that without specific information about the Cyprecox Pass, Zaur’s search for the pit would be rendered fruitless.  As it were, there were several such strategic passes in and around the Capital province, most concealing similar traps, pits, and mass graves that had been constructed at the time to effectively repel the scores of foreign aggressions that had been unleashed on Wenjenkun.  This fact Nevetsecnuac had learned from Zunrogo, during one of their intense political discussions about ingenious historical military campaigns. Drawing from this, Nevetsecnuac had made Toza’s find, one such historical undertaking (enterprise) pit. Having served Zaur with a perfect lure (bait), Nevetsecnuac would now wait, in the interim drawing out the tale, to see how long it would take Zaur to make his anticipated inquiry.

The dullness of the narrative up to this point had nearly put Zaur to sleep.  He had just about run out of patience and was about to hasten Fradel Rurik Korvald to get on with it and urge him to recollect, to reveal the information Zaur sought most to gain, which was the actual, if not an approximation (estimate) of location, of the grave. Fradel Rurik Korvald’s next revelation however, shocked and halted his aim.

"Midway to Toza's destination, the earth under his feet had suddenly given way and cast him into a deep pit.  The hunter, after barely surviving the great fall, had discovered to his great horror that the place was writhing with worms and snakes, and even some skeletal remains."

“A pit… What, skeletal remains?”

06-SKELETAL REMAINS IN PIT

Seemingly turning a blind eye to Zaur’s agitation, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) used the same impassive tone to then recount how Toza, by great good fortune, had escaped serious injury and had suffered only minor lacerations and bruises.

“Trapped as he’d been Toza had faced certain death within that terrible pit but, opportunely some other hunters were following the same trail as Toza’s and, hearing his desperate cries for help, rushed to his aid. Expending ingenuity and, with concerted effort, they eventually succeeded in hauling Toza up to safety; but not before he had chanced upon the key hidden in the jaw of one of the skeletons, those selfsame bones that lay huddled in a far corner opposite to all the rest.  Presumably the impact of Toza's fall had caused the brittle jawbone to snap and release the key; the key which now became plainly visible in the dark cavity of the mouth, in due course giving him quite a fright."

07-KEY HIDDEN IN MOUTH

 From the corner of his eye Nevetsecnuac had noted how Zaur had, for a fleeting second, flinched at the mere mention of the solitary skeleton that held the key.

 All color had completely drained from the good minister's face as he (Zaur Stugr) clutched tightly at the key in his palm.

This confirmed Nevetsecnuac's hypothesis.  “No doubt about it, that singular skeleton had been someone of great significance to Zaur. Likely,” throwing Zaur a cursory glance Nevetsecnuac ventured a guess, “someone close to his person, an uncle, even a father, perhaps.  But I don't suppose you'll ever confide in the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, will you Minister Zaur Stugr?”

Smiling tightly, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reached for his cup to relieve his parched throat. As he raised the drink to his lips his thoughts drifted off to those wretched skeletal remains and the curious circumstances under which he had gained possession of the key.

He recalled most vividly how, there in the pit, were scattered about the tell-tale signs of a lengthy interrogation, torture, and murder of the solitary man.  The stains on the broken shards of porcelain indicated that the captives had been fed a rich diet for a time.  The lack of any trace of cloth and personal items other than the key disclosed the fact that they had been imprisoned in their nakedness, no doubt to further conceal their identities, even from posterity.  This fact reinforced their social prominence.  Finally, there had been the revelation of the ultimate treachery, the corroded bronze jug which, upon Nevetsecnuac's closer scrutiny, had revealed that it had once contained wine tainted with that particularly abhorrent poison that paralyzed its unfortunate victim and brought about a lingering and most agonizing death.

08

 Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon had indeed taught Nevetsecnuac well, his well-rounded education had covered every conceivable kind of potion and poison known to man.  The symptoms of this specific toxin, Nevetsecnuac knew, would only manifest themselves two days after ingesting it, by which time it would be too late for any antidote, any salvation from its curse.

 Evidently the large group of prisoners had been fed false hopes all along, right up to the time of their inevitable tragic demise.  There was no question that the clustered group had been spared from the tortures inflicted on the solitary one and that he had borne the brunt of their vicious barbarism.  The one with the key had died of his injuries and there had been no discoloration in his bones like that which, in the others, plainly told of death by ingested poison.

The aromatic, semi-sweet wine poured over Nevetsecnuac's tongue, nestled for a time in the hollow of his cheek before it glided smoothly down his throat.  As he savored the floral aftertaste, particularly pleasing to the senses, he considered how a multitude of ills could be concealed in a wine such as this.  Feeling rather flushed, he absentmindedly touched his cheek and forehead with the back of his hand and then looked away once more.

09

 What had necessitated these slow, painful deaths and the added mutilation of the one who held the key?  Both his legs had been sharply severed at the ankles, as if with an ax, and his kneecaps had been brutally scythed.  His ribcage had been shattered in several sections, and the bones of his hands had been maliciously crushed.  Curiously enough, though, the clasped jawbone had been left intact, as if his captors had allowed him the power of speech, which he had adamantly refused, to the bitter end.  

Nevetsecnuac solemnly (somberly) mused, “Wasn't it strange, then, that it was only when I had considered the vague notion, if only the dead could speak, that the clenched jaw had quite amazingly (unfastened and) released this very key into my palm?  And again, this very evening fate intervening (interfering), this very key should drop onto the terrazzo (tiles)?”

 

(END OF SECTION 7)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 10

Nevetsecnuac rising to his feet, under the sparse light of the moon extended his search this way and that to determine the angle, width and depth of the pit; he subsequently, tested the stability (soundness) of the encircling walls as his palms and fingers carefully pushed or prodded for that anticipated (planned) future climb. In the end the outcome of his findings (investigation) had proven bit disheartening.  It would be nearly impossible, a most daunting task, to scale the precarious walls without any outside help.  The structure was a marvel of engineering, designed such that it deterred any means of escape.  Even if these unfortunate victims had, with incredible agility, been able to stack up vertically, without the right versatility the acrobatics would have been sill rendered fruitless, if not, hastened them to their death.

The question now remained whether Nevetsecnuac could succeed alone (single-handed) where, jointly all these trapped wretches, had failed.

01- NEVETSECNUAC ANALYSING THE PIT

“It would be a challenging feat;” Nevetsecnuac pensively looked up at the sporadically visible moon at the night’s sky, as the coy moon intermittently peeked out from the clouds: “but certainly not impossible.” He with a sly grin, tapped (rapped) his chin, having already conceived (concocted) a plausible plan.

 Subsequently, getting right to work, he first cleared the ground of any dangerous debris and, utilizing the available means setting the stage for his astute engineering feats that would generate constructive outcome, he next proceeded with the unnerving and relentless climb.  Even then he slid back few times, losing some ground (of the ascent) when the walls of the structure had abruptly collapsed or unexpectedly caved in.  Nevertheless, undeterred by these setbacks, he’d eventually succeeded in reaching the midway point, though the worst traps were yet to come.  Precariously clinging to the protruding rocks, with his free hand he dug up the exposed tips of hardy roots that had overtime, fortunately, had extended (grown) thus far; taking hold of these for anchorage, he nimbly (dexterously) overstepped the sharp cutting edges imbedded in the next layer then, agilely hauled his body upwards towards the seemingly unreachable mouth of the pit.

When he finally emerged outside, thankful that the moon had just then taken refuge behind some dark clouds, he squatted and regulated his breathing.

His thoughts, however, unwarranted, steered to the trapped victims within the terrible pit.

Who were they, to be so brutally imprisoned in an open grave, that they also warranted such elaborate traps? Why hadn't they been simply killed, then disposed of in shallower pits, holes, or crevices, likewise others, with much less trouble?

 What circumstance necessitated their slow, spiteful deaths? And what of those remnants; the shattered beams, the broken pieces of earthenware that at one time must have held provisions, the corroded pewter jug.

“Now, there's the real culprit!  “Nevetsecnuac sullenly (morosely) shook his head.

The exposed evidence, all too clearly, had shown that it had once contained a certain, tainted wine. There were some unmistakable traces of its permanent, unmistakable odor left on the inner rim.

Nevetsecnuac knew all too well, that this was the worst kind of deadly insect's poison, one that paralyzes the intended victims and, causes a prolonged, weeks, sometimes months of, lingering, excruciatingly painful death.

“Since the effects are not immediate and do not manifest themselves until sometime later, it must mean that some vital information, or something of equal importance, had to be extracted from the prisoners.  They were fed false hope before the final treachery came to light.”  As he absentmindedly reflected, his hand checked for the key.  Relieved to see that he had not lost it in the climb, he grimaced wryly, “Perhaps, one day, it will prove instrumental in unraveling this mystery for me but, for the time being, I best deal with this more pressing matter.”

Wishing to examine at first hand the point of the road that was being so closely guarded, a point he would be forced to traverse before long, Nevetsecnuac stealthily advanced towards the sentries.

“Hmm, it’s an ideal spot for an ambush.”  Nevetsecnuac, after scrutiny, thoughtfully nodded. For not only did the monitored road lie perfectly sandwiched between two hills, (it cut through uncompromising cliffs,) but also, strategically balanced rocks on their crests could, in an instant, be dislodged to trap any prey, leaving no option for retreat or advance.  In the worst-case scenario, the intended target could be annihilated altogether by the properly timed avalanche.

“He…” Nevetsecnuac inwardly queried, recalling Deizvor ' reference to the one they awaited.

“All this is deemed necessary to trap but one man. Fradel Rurik Korvald, Me? …Surely not. Perhaps it’s some well-guarded, despised official.”  Though he knew better.

Suddenly, another equally poignant question intruded into his mind. “But who’s behind all this… Whose command are they following?” 

His curiosity piqued, Nevetsecnuac sought to learn more and so hazarded to eavesdrop on the sentries.

02- GUARDS- SENTRIES

 Unfortunately, their idle chatter led to nothing specific or useful.  Since it would be imprudent to confront them now, Nevetsecnuac turned his attention instead in the direction of the just then manifest thin coil of smoke. His eyes trailing it, before it was promptly extinguished, at once caught a furtive (stealthy) movement at the mouth of a yawning cave, well tucked in the crevice of the next rising hill. “Splendid, “Nevetsecnuac retreated, edging away from the sentries to further reconnaissance.

Following a beeline, he crept swiftly but stealthily towards the dark cave, his eyes straining to catch the subtlest movement, his keen ears registering the minutest of sounds.  As the incessant, howling winds drove the laden clouds away to the east, the Earth was illuminated periodically again by the teasing, silver rays of the full moon. Taking special care with cover at such times, Nevetsecnuac eventually halted in-close-proximity to the cave's mouth; he squatted and then pressed his ear to the ground.  From the reverberations he speculated that more than a dozen horses and well-armed men were stationed within.  The cave was undoubtedly large enough to hold them all, along with a running underground stream.

“What would necessitate such force?” With a puzzled expression, he inwardly queried.  Intuitively feeling its importance to him, however, his pulse quickened with excitement and in anticipation of resolving (unravelling) this new, intriguing enigma.

By now the wind had spent its fury and, as the last leg of twirling debris settled lazily about, Nevetsecnuac gazed up at the dark canopy speckled with brilliant, twinkling stars hosting the moon. He eyed the heavily armed, formidable-looking sentry, well concealed, virulently guarding the entrance of the cave, and then deliberated on his next, viable course of action. Before Nevetsecnuac could act on it, however, two officious looking men suddenly emerged from the cave.  Crawling nearer still, Nevetsecnuac looked about sharply and perked up his ears to eavesdrop.

The bearded one, who was addressed as 'Commander', had just dispensed his brief instructions to the guards when, noting that the sky had cleared and the wind had tapered down to a pleasant breeze, turned to the officer at his side and proposed, "Would you like to accompany me on a bit of a walk for some fresh air, Lieutenant?"

"I'm at your disposal, sir." the other immediately responded.

Nevetsecnuac, who could not have asked for a better opportunity, turned his attention away from the sly grinning guards and trailed (tailed) the two officers as they strolled to a distant scenic spot. 

The Commander and his chief officer, confident they had reached beyond the guards' hearing range, finding a suitable spot, comfortably seated themselves on a huge, smooth boulder.  They were soon engrossed in a serious whispered conversation. 

03- COMMANDER ZHADOL AND HIS LIEUTENANT YENNIC

Quite undetected, Nevetsecnuac crept quietly to the nearest cover then, scaling an ancient tree, perched himself on a high branch that loomed within earshot.  He strained his ears to overhear the subject of their sudden heated exchange.

"Sir," the stout Lieutenant adamantly addressed the bearded Commander, "how reliable is this sorcerer Dwengzur, anyhow?  Has he never erred in his predictions?  I fear His Excellency may be making a fatal error in trusting him.  I mean, what we really know of him, other than that he's a native of that cursed country Korion."

“Again, Korion…” Nevetsecnuac's attention was piqued.

 Narrowing his eyes, he mused, “That's Zonar Kuntzu's Country; most curious indeed!”  However, feeling that it was too premature to speculate, he again lent an ear to the Lieutenant.

"I've met others from that State he claims to be from, but they are nothing at all like him.”

“He doesn't even speak with the same dialect. Moreover, until five months ago, he was virtually unknown to us.  Foreigner that he is, how could he so quickly, so effectively have penetrated essential layers of security and, despite his ungainly presence, have wormed his way into Her Ladyship's good graces?  It’s baffling, to say the least, how he's been elevated to such a position of trust that, ostensibly, he's even won the tolerance of His Royal Highness."

"As I understand it," the Commander spoke slowly and thoughtfully, "he gained his audience through Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren's Office."

"So, that's it!  He's another one of his recruits, then.  I should have suspected as much!"  The Lieutenant gritted his teeth.

Then, with puzzlement on his face, the Lieutenant looked up and asked, "How is it then, His Excellency (Eunuch) Egil Viggoaries, still trusts him and, puts so much credence in all those preposterous predictions of his?"

"You don't understand."  The Commander grimaced.

 "Things are never what they seem.  Though he has gained the patronage of the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and still more, his trust, in fact” Tensing up, he abruptly broke off, but his hesitation lasted but a moment.

 When he (turned) reverted his soft gaze back to his Lieutenant, he had already resolved his dilemma and was determined to confide this latest bit of privileged information to the other.

All the same, he could not resist teasing, "I may be breaching serious security protocol by telling you this but, after all we've been to each other, and I think I can trust you."

"You offend me greatly, sir, with your doubt!"  The cool retort spoke volumes.

Since the Lieutenant's voice had dropped, the rest of what he said was inaudible to Nevetsecnuac, but it did have an impact on the Commander, none the less.

Enough, in fact, to cause the older man to relent, "It wasn't meant to be” Turning, the Commander affectionately clapped his Lieutenant on the shoulder.

 "Come on now, Yennic.  Would I be here if I did not trust you implicitly?  Would I have even broached the subject if I didn't intend on telling you the rest?  How often have I confided in you in the past?  You already know most, if not all, what I've already been told in confidence.  You shouldn't take it like that; you have no cause to.  I just wanted to, maybe for the benefit of us all, stress the importance of confidentiality.  This knowledge was revealed only to the twelve of us in his coterie.  Should it come to light prematurely it will prove most disastrous, to say the least, and undermine all our efforts.  Don't think that our deaths will be swift afterwards, either.  I hope I've made myself perfectly clear, for it’s imperative that you don't breathe a word of it to anyone, not even to your immediate family, or even to the other members of your clique.  Can I have your word on this?"

Though Lieutenant Yennic was thoroughly piqued at the Commander for his gentle insistence, he knew that he could extract more by subtle means so, staying his malicious, cynical brash response and instead nodded with understanding and promised in a sincere tone, "Yes, Zhadol.  My lips, as always, are sealed.  Now, what is this great secret of yours?"

Though Nevetsecnuac seriously doubted Yennic's outward sincerity, Commander Zhadol, without a qualm, leaned forward at once to disclose the secret.

Before he had the chance to speak, however, Yennic interceded wryly, "Are you now going to tell me that Dwengzur, contrary to all appearances, is, in fact, a loyal vassal of His Excellency Egil Viggoaries and owes his foremost loyalty to him, and not the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren.”

“Furthermore, that the sorcerer is inveigling himself into Lamont Gudaren’s good graces, as ordered, and shamming subservience in order to strengthen Egil Viggoaries’s hand?"

"That's it in a nutshell." the Commander concurred bluntly, masking his annoyance.

"I wonder just how much it cost His Excellency to buy out his so-called loyal services." Yennic sneered.

"You're wrong there." Zhadol grimaced.  "His kind can never be bought.  They have no use for money or any other worldly goods that would impinge on their unfettered lives.  No, something else binds him to Egil Viggoaries.  As I understand it, he owes his life to His Excellency and something else too, something even more important.  Unfortunately, even I am left in the dark about this."

 When the Lieutenant cast a doubtful glance at him, Commander Zhadol reasserted, "I swear, I don't know but, since he interests you so, let me tell you more about this sorcerer."  Winking at Yennic, he continued, "Now Dwengzur is notably different from other sorcerers because, as I have been briefed, he belongs to an ancient, nomadic, tribal race that dwells in the remotest, most mountainous regions of Korion, shunning all contact with civilization.  It has been said that historical persecution has caused them to adopt this way of life.  Therefore, it’s my contention that he is a renegade, but why should we speculate … Anyhow, this race is both feared and revered by the Korionese.  Why?"  He paused for dramatic effect and to augment Yennic's curiosity. 

04- DWENGZU'S RACE IN KORION

"It’s because each one is endowed with special, supernatural powers.  They are born clairvoyant and raised collectively.  They are roundly educated in astrology, geomancy and, from an early age, are taught the ancient, secret spells and incantations by the designated elders of the tribe.  These ruling elderly Chiefs (that make up the core council) are reported to have extended their lives to least, seven hundred years.  The tribe's average life span, you see, is believed to exceed four hundred years.  This prized information is passed from generation to generation by word of mouth since nothing is recorded in writing on the off chance that it will fall into outsider's hands and be misused, with disastrous consequences.

"By the age of eight they possess many extraordinary abilities and can perform mind boggling tricks and are accredited with the innate ability to affect weather patterns.  They have never been known to suffer from any human ailments.  Individuality is frowned on by the tribe and they are not allowed to keep any personal artifacts.

“They are taught to consider themselves part of the collective unit and, when they refer to themselves, it is always in the plural; 'we would like to', 'that pleases us' and so forth.  Oh, and this should interest you, they never marry.  It is not an accepted institution with them, as the women and men are also considered as property of the group.  They fornicate once every thirty years in an elaborate public ceremony, never twice to the same mate and never within their kinship group solely for the reason of perpetuating themselves."

"You make him sound like an Immortal." Yennic scoffed contemptuously.  "And just who perpetuated this hearsay, Dwengzur?"

"At first I shared your skepticism," Zhadol smiled condescendingly then shook his head, "but no longer, not after what I'd witnessed during our secret gathering.  After a remarkable demonstration of his powers, we became converts, one and all.

"For instance, when Dwengzur asked to be decapitated, Egil Viggoaries obliged with pleasure.  Then afterwards, the headless body rose from the ground, walked right over to where the severed head had fallen, picked it up and aligned it perfectly back on the neck.  The wound fused right in front of our astonished eyes, and, within seconds, he became whole again; a living, breathing man.  No ordinary man, obviously."

The hair on the nape of Nevetsecnuac's neck rose when he heard this, and he felt an unmistakable knot in his stomach.  “Was it pure coincidence?”  He closed his eyes for a moment to dispel all illogical thoughts.

"It’s a common hypnotic trick, nothing more."

"It was no illusion, I tell you."  The Commander irately insisted, standing his ground, but his voice lacked total conviction.  Looking past Yennic, he shook his head to quickly purge the seeds of doubt that had been planted in his mind. “Sorcerer’s subsequent trick was equally amazing. This time he, after having received the slight nod (permission) from Egil Viggoaries, simply wielded his sword in lightning speed and claimed the head of the recruit Torrez, who just happened to be innocently standing by at close proximity to Dwengzur.

05- SORCERER DWENGZUR

Holding it up high for everyone to see, he then faced the head and charged him with duplicity and a minor fraction, probably a fabricated one; but it was nevertheless enough to seal his fate. The head though reluctantly, responded as if living, breathing thing and confessed to everything. Afterwards, he simply blew a fiery breath at the face, and the decapitated head was instantly reduced to ash.”

"A talking head…? Surely you were all mesmerized." Nevetsecnuac heard Yennic, just then, sneering with arrogant cynicism.

 "Yet, according to you, he bends submissively to His Excellency's will.  Why should he if he possesses such powers?  I ask you, what greater intimidation is there than death?  Why not admit that you were all duped by his masterful trickery?" Yennic unrelentingly goaded the Commander.  Yennic hoped that, if he got him all fired up, Zhadol would get careless.

"Yes, he does bend to Egil Viggoaries's will, for I've seen it.  I'd attest to the truth of that."  Commander Zhadol responded, irritated, his face flushed red and his eyes wide with anger.  He was unwittingly playing right into Lieutenant's hand.  His voice increased slightly in intensity as he added, "And furthermore, he responds without a qualm."

“Like you.” Nevetsecnuac, perched on the tree branch, musing grimaced.

"I confess that aspect has baffled me also.  What's more Dwengzur's obedience stems clearly out of fear.  I wonder what hold Egil Viggoaries has on him. “

 

(END OF SECTION 10)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL- SECTION 9

After two- and one-half days of riding, the stony, dirt path converged with the old main road that had long ago been supplanted by another, wider and more level one.

This other thoroughfare (artery) cut straight through the bustling towns and thriving villages that had seemingly sprung up almost overnight beside it.

 Striving to compensate for lost time, and since the opportunity of a long, uninterrupted stretch up ahead availed itself, Nevetsecnuac spurred his mount into a full gallop and they rode like the wind all day long, the mare's hooves barely skimming the surface of the road.  Only when dusk fell did they stop for rest and nourishment.  Leaving the road at a suitable spot, Nevetsecnuac was about to dismount when his keen eyes suddenly spotted a thin trail of coiling smoke to the west, beyond a nearby hill.

01- NEVETSECNUAC

“Could it be Zonar?  No.”  Nevetsecnuac shook his head, grimacing wryly.  That's hardly his style.

“Perhaps it’s bandits…  Well, there's only one way to find out.”  He nodded, having already decided to reconnoiter and find its source.  After tethering his mount to the largest tree in a secure spot that offered lush, green grass for grazing, Nevetsecnuac swiftly crested the hill and, advancing stealthily, made a beeline for the activity.

He ducked just in time, spotting two armed sentinels off to the side, beyond the second rise.  Deciding to investigate them first, he changed course and, hugging the ground, crept swiftly but quietly towards them.

When he was still some distance away, however, the ground beneath his feet suddenly gave way and he plunged into a deep, dark hole.  Despite the howling winds, the more alert sentinel at once stood up erect, throwing aside the dried meat he was disdainfully chewing.  With his right hand poised at his sword's hilt he turned and looked intently, directly at where Nevetsecnuac had been trapped.

"What is it, Deizvor?" Nevetsecnuac heard a winded voice demanding as he hastened after the other who was fast approaching where Nevetsecnuac was.

"I thought I heard some noise coming from this direction, Jonnath," Deizvor answered brashly.

Nevetsecnuac had not let out even a whimper in his surprise fall.  Lying on his back, slightly winded, listening to the warnings from his sixth sense, he remained perfectly still and considered his options.  The approaching footsteps were now sounding dangerously close.

"You must be out of your mind.  How can you hear anything in this wind?  Come on, be reasonable."  Jonnath, grasping the other's arm, held him back only a few paces from the edge of the hole.

"We should get back quick." he then warned.  "We've left the post unguarded.  We'll be in a terrible fix if our absence is noted."

"I did hear something suspicious, like someone falling in, almost like a cave-in." Deizvor responded indignantly, angered by the other's skepticism.

02 THE SENTRY - JONATH AND DEIZVOR

 "Anyhow, no one asked you to tag along.  Go back if you're so worried about your hide; as if he's going to show up now; if at all!"  Deizvor barked, "I said get back!  I'll be there summarily, after I first make a cursory inspection of this area."

"Why are you always so brash, so quick to fly off the handle?  I'm just as bored as you, but you can't invent trouble where there is none.  What you heard was, in all probability, some scared scavenging mammal or a rodent fleeing to safety."  Jonnath stood his ground.

 "Besides, must I warn you of the prevalent dangers?  Do you wish to fall into one of the pitfalls that abound here?  It’s precarious enough to scour this ground in daylight, let alone at night.  Our duty lies strictly in watching the road and guarding Cyprecox Pass, nothing else."  Seeing this failed to persuade Deizvor, he turned his back to him in exasperation, "Go ahead then!  Have it your way."  Jonnath’s voice trailed into the distance.

"I have this strong hunch." Deizvor stamped his foot, vacillating.

"I know I'm on the verge of something.  I sense it with every fiber of my being.  Hmm, oh well.  Jonnath’s probably right.  I am bored out of my skull, but I would have welcomed an encounter with a predatory beast, even a ghost or goblin.  Anything, anything is better than this interminable waiting."  Still grumbling, Deizvor reluctantly withdrew from the edge of the pit and followed Jonnath’s footsteps into the distance.

“They're gone at last! “Sitting bolt upright, Nevetsecnuac brushed aside the slimy worms and maggots that had, all this while, crawled over his face, through his hair and on his chest and legs.

 Straining his eyes to see in the scant light, he glanced around him.  “Is this construction man-made?”  Evidently it was, for the ground on which he sat was tamped hard.  Rocks and pieces of broken pottery protruded from the soil and pieces of rotted beams with sharp edges and spikes littered the ground.  Testifying to the depth of the hole, the air was suffocating, dense and smelled nauseatingly foul.

By rights, his fall should have been more detrimental but, using his martial training, Nevetsecnuac had broken the impact of the fall and had escaped serious injury.  Rising to his feet, he reached out his hands and began to carefully poke and pry the jutting sides.

 Some insects, crawling slimy worms and hairy bugs scuttled away from his probing hands.  Oddly, his hands detected a corroded metal jug that deposited a strangely familiar smell on his fingers, which he, identifying it, immediately wiped it off onto his trouser cuff.

 Then as he continued with his probing, what he had dreaded most came true; for his hand just then rested abruptly on a group of human skulls and bones clustered in the far corner.

“This was clearly not a burial plot, which meant that these unfortunate souls, judging from the way the bones were arrayed and other pertinent clues, were buried alive and left here to suffer a prolonged, lingering death.  What kind of crime had they committed that warranted this cruel punishment?  Had they succumbed to treachery?  Were they loyalists?  Stripped of all clothing and other personal belongings, the mystery surrounding their death and their identification would remain unresolved indefinitely.”  

More intriguing still, was the discovery a bit later, of a solitary skeleton crouched in a small hollow across from the main group.  This one had parts of his legs missing and, upon scrutiny, Nevetsecnuac found that the shin bone had been severed sharply at the ankle and, worse still, that the bones of the hand had been crushed so severely that they crumbled to dust at the merest touch.

Nevetsecnuac's face creased into a frown of intense concentration.  “Why had this one been so brutally mutilated?  Why had he suffered so much worse?  Oh, if only the dead could speak!”

03- NEVETS IN THE DARK PIT

 No sooner had this wistful thought crossed his mind than, suddenly, the corpse's jaw broke off and from inside the cavity a strange, cold object fell squarely into Nevetsecnuac's palm.  A bit spooked, Nevetsecnuac examined it with care.  It felt like a jewel laden miniature key of some sort.

“All right,” Nevetsecnuac nodded, “if it’s within my power, I'll certainly do all I can to vindicate you, sir.”  He placed the key into his inner pocket for safekeeping then, mindful of the limited time he had in which to free himself, returned his attention to more immediate concerns.

                                                                                       ~

 

(END OF SECTION 9)