LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 7

01- NEVETSECNUAC  JP

Nevetsecnuac, as a just then released floating spirit witnessed his out-of-body tragic demise: He saw his catapulted, airborne head hitting the immense boulder a few feet away with a thud while his decapitated body that same instant simply collapsing lifeless to the ground. And ironically at that very moment, the drizzling rain drops amalgamating (merging) with the gushing blood from the severed carotid artery (of the neck), in that cumulative pool, instantaneously dyed (tinted) the pretty white wildflowers that Nevetsecnuac had been so fond of, into scarlet (crimson) hue.

Before the ground had a chance to completely quench its thirst, Zonar, with a sinister, venomous grin, thoughtful air and leaden steps, walked over to Nevetsecnuac's severed head and, halting at the spot, summoned it up to the strange object in his grasp. The bloody head was slowly but surely was absorbed (infused, seeped into) by the object, disheveled hairs and all.

02-  ZONAR KUNTZU - 2 (9)

Zonar with a malevolent grin, he then dramatically kissed the knob(handle) and, throwing his head back, ejected horrid laughter, after which he indifferently tugged it beneath his belt; his blazing sword sheathed (in scabbard, casing)  and, with a cold glint in his eyes, never looking back, not even once, he swaggered slowly towards his tethered mount.

Summarily, with Nevetsecnuac's head permanently imprisoned alongside Fradel Rurik Korvald's, both within the leather-bound rod object, Zonar vaulted onto his magnificent steed and galloped into distance.

                                                                                      ~

Nevetsecnuac’s soul (essence, spirit) already restrained (held captive) in the netherworld, meanwhile, riled and despondent, he’d watched Zonar’s unimpeded departure with his prizes.

Hearing a shuffling noise behind him just then, Nevetsecnuac quickly turned to witness the large gathering of troubled, grim apparitions. As these ghosts drew nearer still and floated to encircle him in a tight, impenetrable cordon, some clasped their heads and tore out clumps of their hair, tragically wailing while others shook an accusing finger at Nevetsecnuac and cursed or severely reprimanded him.

"It was your vanity that made you vulnerable and made you fight that devilish villain."

"You should have resisted him."

"You should have set your priorities right at the start and saved your strength for the chief culprit instead."

"You received ample warning not to engage him, why did you not heed his advice and flee to safety at the start while you still had a chance to do so?  Now you have forfeited your life and your life's ambition is lost forever in vain. This dreadful ending should come to pass- after your honorable father the benevolent Seventh Prince Shon Alric Therran Valamir, the illustrious Lord Shonne Gulbrand and the heroic Lord Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and countless others sacrificed so much to avail you of this chance. Oh, calamity…oh such misfortune!"

"This letdown is inexcusable!"

"You should be sorely mortified, ashamed of yourself!  Ashamed to face the Lord of Heaven; that is, if he ever designs (condescend) to see you."

"Oh, what's the use?  Why should we waste our time remonstrating with you?  You are beneath our contempt!" Some scowled.

"It’s because of you that we are all now doomed, doomed; with our last chance of salvation gone forever!"

"Ah, it’s no use.  It’s too late; too late for everything; too late even for regrets."

Other, kindlier spirits were not so hard on Nevetsecnuac, though they still condemned him.

"Were we wrong in pinning all our hopes on you?"

"Did we overestimate your abilities?"

"Perhaps it was too much to ask, to expect of one lone (solitary) mortal, as young and inexperienced as you, to rectify this wrong.  Still, your uncle Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon taught you well.  Furthermore, you had great potential, and you did overcome all the other prior perils."

"Was it fate that played this cruel, oh cruelest trick on you and us by bringing forth this obstruction at this latest stage?"

"But, chance or no chance, you should have succeeded.  You can't escape, can’t be absolved, not entirely, from all the blame.”

“With your innate intelligence, could you not have assessed your situation in time to salvage it?  You also didn't have to fight him to the bitter end, especially after you realized the hopelessness of your situation.  Isn't retreat a good part of any fighting strategy?"

"Therefore, our brothers are right in condemning you.  The fault lies entirely with you."

"You are solely to blame for not living up to your full potential."

"Look how badly you fouled things up!"

They shook their heads and ground their teeth in anger.

"You, our last hope, have let us down so miserably.  You failed to avenge us, just when success was within your grasp."

"Why did you have to go throw it all away?  If only you had not succumbed too…"

"Ah, what's the use?  All is now lost with no other worthy one left alive to champion our cause."

"What could be more tragic than this?  Forever barred from Heaven, we, loyal subjects of Wenjenkun, your illustrious forefathers, we are all condemned to roam this Earth in chains for all eternity.  This is the gravest consequence of your failure!"

"Woe to us!"

"Woe to them!"

"Woe to you!"

03- NEVETSECNUAC IN THE UNDERWORLD

Nevetsecnuac's soul, standing in doleful (forlorn) supplication, bowed his head still lower in shame, regretting his folly in underestimating Zonar's prowess, for not fleeing when he had the chance.  He wanted so much to implore their forgiveness but, though he tried, no one took any notice of him.  Instead, the din of their legitimate grievances and the intensity of their repeated wailing deafened his ears and silenced his tongue.

"After the siege, when defenses failed and I was captured alive, I was flailed (flogged) to death, but not before witnessing my comrades’ crueler demises, those that fought bravely alongside me, being torn apart or crushed to death." one wailing ghost came forward to demand.  "I suffered so many unspeakable hardships in my earlier life.  I'm suffering so much now.  It’s inconceivable to think that I, we all, will not be vindicated, that we won't be avenged at long last.  Oh, will this wretchedness never end?"

04- WRETCHED PLACE

"Stone missiles raining on us day and night within the confines of fortress, the tragic cries of the wounded (or the maimed) trapped under the collapsing walls and beams, still haunts my ears and robs me of any peace (solace)." Another came forth to profess.  "Is there really no other left alive, competent enough, to avenge us?"

"My whole village was burned to the ground by the imperial troops." an elderly woman whimpered.  "None escaped the searing flames of this deliberately set catastrophe.  How can all these tragic souls roaming this earth find any peace or lasting rest without being avenged?"

"Our village was flooded.  Men, women, and children drowned to give Zakhertan Yozdek’s army the advantage in a naval assault.  Can they all have suffered for nothing?"

"Our homes were razed to dust." Yet another wept.

"What about his infant children?" one sympathetic soul, came forward to ask.  "Can we not implore Heaven to spare them?"

The multitude of shaking heads told him otherwise.  They could not reach the ears of Heaven.  It was Nevetsecnuac’s fate to perish young.

"My loyal regiment fought a desperate battle to the bitter end in our defense of the besieged Kosuk City.", the tired, somber voice of an old general exclaimed, reminiscing.

 "We were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of Zakhertan Yozdek's army and by their superiority in arms.  His were the picked troops, the best in the land.  When they penetrated our walls and entered the city they committed such heinous atrocities, so vile they were that it could never be wholly described."

Another officer groaned, "In our offensive campaign, just as we had gained more ground, they successfully cut us off from the main body of our army and the supplies.  As we were trapped by an onslaught from four directions, they set fire to the grass around our perimeter; every last one of us perished by the raging flames."

"Our contingent was deliberately isolated from the main force, too and lured into ambush where all expired by their vile butchery." another officer gritted his teeth.

"All the defenders at Juko Pass, including myself, were ensnared, then buried alive.  The traitorous Zakhertan Yozdek's rage still not appeased, he had his henchmen round up our families and had them killed as well, their corpses then piled on top of us."

"In my hometown, all the young men who resisted were brutally trampled to death under the Royal infantry horses’ hoofs in the central square as part of a war game, while we, their parents and families were made to watch, till our turn came to die."  The elderly man sobbed then, choking back his tears, added, "But my poor, proud, brave boy, he cursed Zakhertan Yozdek, that vile usurper, to the very end."

“I've heard some of these atrocities before.” Nevetsecnuac tearfully reflected. 

Some had been re-counted by Lord Asger Zhon prior to Nevetsecnuac’s departure; several more accounts had been relayed by Fradel Rurik Korvald erstwhile the night Nevetsecnuac had left him; and then a great deal more had been narrated by the faithful Lu Moldan, the beggar from Gulbrand Province.

“Was Heaven blind? How could it stand by and let the fiend (man) who’d been the instigator of these immeasurable crimes, not be struck down? Zakhertan Yozdek, the villainous usurper… With these grave crimes against humanity on his head, how could he still exist…to?"

"My precious, most handsome boys, one barely sixteen, the other seventeen,” Another elderly woman had shrieked just then, however, interrupting Nevetsecnuac’s incensed (feelings and), exasperated thoughts.  “They were dragged through the streets and afterwards their tattered corpses were thrown over the falls! “She turned and with upturned face and a mouth showing sparse teeth, she snarled at Nevetsecnuac next. 

 “Now look at what you’ve done… It’s all because of you, Zakhertan Yozdek will live to a ripe old age!"

"Ah, the brutality of Zakhertan, the extent of it can never fully be told."  Adjacent to her, an ancient ghost with white beard down to his midriff shook his head and then mournfully nodded.

"His wolfish troops and murderous guards were given liberty to run amok in our city of Kier.  They inflicted unspeakable atrocities of the innocent populous, young and old alike."

“Now… take a good look.”  He held out two round orbs in his hand. "These eyes, I plucked them out in my grief after seeing those appalling acts committed at the hand of the barbaric imperial troops, which afterwards, many officers standing on the sidelines, treating it as entertainment, even placed wagers on the nature of the outcome of the wounds. 

06- ZAKHERTAN'S WOLFISH  TROOPS

“In my province, the tombs of our ancestors were indiscriminately defiled. “Another ghost chimed in. “They trampled over the dead, excreted the coffins (caskets) and cast aside dismembered corpses, looking to pillage valuable funeral offerings and items within the graves.  Even an invading enemy nation would not have been so vile, so unconscionable, and so despicable; alas, terrible evil has shrouded this land!  I cursed the day I was born and shed many bloody tears for all the unfortunate souls, including my own.  What crime have I committed? I have asked this of Heaven, repeatedly…But no answer has come. You tell me, what crime have we, any one of us committed that Heaven has so completely forsaken us?  Yes, you were our very last hope.  Was it unfair of us to expect so much from but one youth?  Tell me, please, would someone tell me why we must suffer so?  Will this tragedy never end?"

"How many more must perish at Zakhertan's cruel hand?"

“Wow to us…Pity… oh pity us…”  The wailing reached a crescendo (climax) with increasingly more spirits (ghosts) joining in.

“Is there really nothing I can do to atone for my mistakes?  “Nevetsecnuac’s heart incessantly wrenched with disgrace and bottomless sorrow while blazing remorse, eternally scorched his soul to cinders.

Clenching his fists, he bowed his head low in shame. “Is there anything, anything at all, I can do to make amends, to redeem these tragic souls?”

 Not resigned to this ill fate, he lifted his eyes imploringly and made his plea, beseeching Heaven for one more chance.  But hope was not to be, instead, Nevetsecnuac saw his grandfather, Emperor Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir, his father, Seventh Prince Shon Alric Therran Valamir and the other members of the Royal Family all, being escorted down to Earth in chains. 

His grandfather Emperor Zuronghan A.T. Valamir turned to glance at Nevetsecnuac with solemn air and disapprovingly shook his head.

Endless tears coursing down his cheeks, Nevetsecnuac rushed to at once fall on his knees and respectfully prostrate himself before his grandfather, to beg forgiveness.

The emperor, with a grave face, gave him no chance to speak and right away scorned Nevetsecnuac, "You are not worthy of being our grandson nor are you fit to approach our Royal Presence.  Be gone from our sight!"

07- EMPEROR ZURONGHAN ALRIC THERRAN VALAMIR

The Emperor Zuronghan Valamir then, with great dignity, turned his back to Nevetsecnuac.

In unison, the rest echoed the sentiments of the emperor and each, in turn, abruptly turned their backs to him as Nevetsecnuac tried to make his appeal or implore their forgiveness.

Lord Shonne Gulbrand’s apparition, bound in chains as well, became visible just then but His Lordship also shook his head in disapproval and, shedding a solitary tear, he also turned away and floated into the distance.

In deep dismay, Nevetsecnuac shook his head and stamped his foot. “If only I had not…

 Had not what?” This was something entirely different.  As confusion set in, Nevetsecnuac racked his brains to recollect, “Recollect what?”

Though Nevetsecnuac knew it was only mid-morning, the Earth that instant suddenly fell into twilight.  The overwhelming, grave atmosphere heralded (portended) a new gargantuan disaster or a colossal catastrophe.

 

(END OF SECTION 7)

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 27

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 27

CANUTE

This time after Canute had escaped from his prison (cellar), he skirted the walls and made straight for the storeroom (his makeshift bedroom).  His bedding, however, had been removed already and some of the other stuff cleaned out; as his return was not expected, a few useless chests and pieces of broken furniture had been piled high (stored there), to utilize the space.  Veering around the discarded pieces, Canute tried the knob that led to his mother's boudoir (bedroom).

Finding it unlocked, he, elatedly was about to open the door to sneak in when some noises from within stayed his hand.

First, he steadied his breathing then stealthily pried the door ajar and craned his neck to peer in through the crack.  Canute's hatred and revulsion intensified seeing one of the girls, one called Juke, rummaging through his mother's personal things, her chests and drawers.  Tike was sitting woodenly by the window with a stern face, clutching his mother's small jewelry box.

 "Thieves… Bandits!  Vile beasts!  I'll make you pay for this!" gnashing his teeth he cursed them under his breath.    Suddenly his heart stilled when, to his dismay, he saw Tike discovering an old foreign coin, the thing his mother prized most.  It had a hole in it and, when he had been much younger, Canute remembered her wearing it around her neck.  This much he knew of her past, that this strange coin had been the sole possession left to her by her deceased parents.  She had been allowed to keep it up to now because it had always been deemed worthless by others.  He contemplated rushing in to grab it from Tike's claws.

"This… It’s another worthless piece of shit."  Much to Canute's relief Tike, after a brief examination of it, threw it disdainfully to the floor where it rolled soundlessly under a chair.  Tike growled at Juke not to dawdle.  She was fast running out of patience.  The intensive search had lasted for half an hour or more and had produced nothing of substance to satisfy Tike's greed.

"This can't be all," she pursed her lips, looking at the jewel box in her grip, then shifted her gaze to the sleeping woman.

02- SLEEPING HELGA

 "She must have hoarded her gold and jewelry somewhere else," Tike hissed, "but where?  Where could the sneak have put it?  Try out those drawers over there.  She can't outsmart me.  Yes, those ones, and look harder or you'll see the back of my hand!"

That night his mother's condition had worsened.  Tike was forced to defer her usual customer, a pesky middle-aged man who reeked of alcohol, to one of the other girls.  Thoroughly put out, Tike had entered sick Helga’ room with Juke to ransack the place.  Though she took it all, she still suspected the girls of accepting secret gifts from their gentlemen’s customers and shamelessly hoarding them in various secret places.  After all, that's how she had secured her own future, gained her freedom and present status.  Despite all the effort, the next few hours still proved fruitless.

"Imagine, leaving me high and dry, like this!  If she thinks I'm going to pay for her funeral out of my own pocket, she has another thing coming!  Even an unmarked grave costs a pretty penny these days." Tike ranted and raved.

 She then turned to berating Juke; when her voice got hoarse, “Oh, never mind!  You're utterly useless too!"  She finally called off the search.

  "I'll fetch Ron up tomorrow to rip this place apart, piece by piece, and then we'll see what will turn up.”  “Hmm… Perhaps her brat knows of the stash’s whereabouts? If worse comes to worse, I'll simply have Ron wring it out of that useless little horror?  Imagine that!  I take them in under my roof and provided for them all those years, even bringing up their bastards, showing them all that consideration and kindness and, what do I get out of it in the end…nothing?"  Huffing and puffing she got to her feet, with a sweep of her sleeve and curses on her lips, she then stormed out of the room with Juke timidly following close on her heels.

No sooner was the door closed than Canute (emerging from his hiding place) burst inside and rushed to his mother's side.  Climbing onto the big bed, he snuggled up to his mother and whispered in her ear, "Wake up, mama.  They're gone."

 When she failed to respond he gently shook her.  "Wake up, mama.  You must wake up.  We have to get out of here tonight.  Tike means to kill you, mama, I heard her just now, heard her talking about burying you in an unmarked grave.  Mama, mama, please wake up!"

Stirring faintly, she meekly groaned, "Senson.  Why?  Why?"

"No, it’s me, mama…me, Canute.  Wake up, mama, you can't be dreaming now, not at a time like this.  You must wake up!"  He rocked her more urgently.

"Water...oh, I'm so parched."  Her hand gripped her throat.

 "Please, I need some water!  Oh, my head hurts so much!"  She placed the back of her hand to her forehead, her eyes still shut tight.

Her faint request was promptly, solicitously fulfilled but she was too weak, too frail to rise.  Bracing her, Canute placed some fluffed up pillows at her back.  He held the cup to her pallid, trembling lips and helped her swallow a few drops.  As he brushed back the loose tufts of hair stuck to her temples and affectionately stroked her clammy, sweat-drenched forehead he gasped in gloom, despite himself, "Oh, mama, you're burning up!"

 Her condition gave him further cause for fright and had plunged him into deep despair.  She was so sick, how was he going to get her away to safety now?  "Oh, I wish you hadn't drunk that potion, mama," he gently admonished her.  "I knew it would make you worse.  I knew it would only hurt you.  Tike is a beast, an evil, fat beast!"

"Is that you, Canute…Canute?" her eyes opened slightly.

"Yes, mama, I'm here," he answered meekly, hanging his head and biting his lip to hold back the tears.

"Were you just now swearing at Tike?"  Canute grunted an acknowledgment.  She closed her eyes again and sighed, "Oh, son, won't you ever learn?"

"They locked me in the cellar again, mama, but I broke out.  They moved all my bedding, too," he burst out indignantly, looking in the direction of his room.

  "Mama," after a moment's pause, he nestled closer to urgently warn her, "You must be strong.  You must get well.  Tike means to kill you.  I heard her say so just now," suddenly his face hardened, and he clenched his fists, "but I won't let them hurt you, mama.  I won't let them get near you.  I'll, I'll protect you."  He resolutely dashed off to secure both doors, wedging a chair against the main door's knob.

"We'll stay locked up here until you get well."  He climbed back up to her side with a cold grin of satisfaction.  "I'll steal some food if you're hungry, mama.  I'm a big man now," he assured her with a nod.  "I'm seven years old; I can take care of you now."

"Canute?  Canute?  Oh, here you are, my precious."  She appeared not to have heard a word he had said but knowing he was by her side was enough to comfort her and she heaved a long, deep, painful sigh.

A few moments later, more of her faculties (senses) regained, Helga opened her eyes.  But Canute's wretched condition at once plunged her heart into abysmal pain and she began to weep with grief.  "Oh, my poor darling, what have they done to you?"  

She reached out with a frail hand to touch the red abrasions (scrapes, scratches) over his left eyebrow and those other marks of abuse on the left cheek.  “Oh, my precious, does it hurt much?"

"I'm all right, mama.  It doesn't hurt, really."  Canute, putting on a brave face, slapped the bruise, bearing the pain with a smile.  "See, it only looks bad.  I'm strong, they can't ever hurt me."

05-CANUTE ACTING TOUGH

"Oh, my poor, brave boy, I love you so much."  Cradling him in her arms, she pressed his battered head to her bosom and sobbed tragically.

Her hot tears fell onto his cheeks as he looked up to again disclaim his pain and urged her, "Please don't cry, mama, or you'll get sicker.  You must get well fast, so we can get out of here.  We’ll go somewhere else, anywhere but here, mama… Please open your eyes mama?"  He pulled his head away and sat up.  His face turned to the door of the storeroom, his room, and misgivings stirred in him.  He hesitated before continuing, "Mama, Tike is a liar.  You won't listen to her, will you mama?  I know you need pretty clothes but please, please don't send me away from you! I promise when I grow up, I won’t want to get married. And I could never ever hate you mama!"  He bit his lip, his face burning with fire.  "I love you mama; I don’t never, ever want to be parted from you!" Again, he pleaded in a whimper.

"Oh, my poor darling,” she caressed his face.  "You’ve had such a scare.  Of course I won't.  I could never condemn you to, such a cruel fate.  I could never bear to part with you either, you are my life."

 Weeping and trembling, she pressed her face against his brow.  "I only said that to Tike, to stop them from hitting you.  As soon as I'm able to, we'll get away from here, I promise.  We'll go far, far away."  Sighs punctuated her resolute words.

Gratefully, irrespective of the pain, Canute Yonn wound his arms around his mother and hugged her tight as though he was afraid of letting go.

 Words crammed his throat at first but then, vehemently gesticulating, he poured out his grievances against Tike and Juke who had ransacked the place.  As Helga listened passively, her strength gradually had begun to ebb; she felt parts of her body going numb and was fearful that Canute might notice her failing condition.  But Canute suddenly recalling the coin just then darted down from the bed and, crawling on his hands and knees avidly began searching the area under and around the chair where he had last seen the coin roll. 

When he returned to her side clasping the coin her lackluster eyes were wearily closing.

"I have it here, mama.  It's now in my safekeeping."  She did not see or hear him.

"Oh, mama, I hope you’ll get better soon, very soon.  I'm afraid."  He spoke almost in a whisper as he hung his head low in hopeless emotion.  Suddenly terror gripped his heart.  Would she get better?  What if...?  He clenched his jaws tight, looking away, trying to hold back his tears but, as if in defiance, his eyes reddened and he sniffled.

With great effort she patted the back of his head and forced a smile to her pallid lips.

 "You mustn't be afraid, my precious.  I'll get well.  I'm just feeling tired, that's all."

But even as she said this, she realized that her condition was indeed serious, perhaps irreversible, and became equally apprehensive for her precious Canute.  With a look of despondency on her face she sighed, "Oh, my poor, wretched darling.  What will become of you after I'm gone?  Who will take care of you then?"  She buried her face in her pillow and quietly wept, the tears gushing like streams to drench the pillow in minutes.  Their coolness gave her some relief.

At his wits’ end to find ways to comfort his mother, Canute clenched his fist and softly cried out, "Oh, if only papa was here.  He would take us away from all this.  He would keep us safe and make everything all right."

"Your papa…?"  Her crying ceased as she looked at him in great surprise.

Before she could go on Canute interceded and placed his hand over her lips.  "Oh, mama, please don't tell me he's dead again.  I know he's very much alive; I’m a big boy now and you can't deceive me any longer but why, why can't we go live with him?"

The intense pain from conflicting emotions and remorse burned at her soul.  Immersed in total misery, her heart palpitating wildly sent the blood rushing to her (brain) head and she became quite dizzy from the throbbing, splitting pain; suddenly, an anguished cry escaped her lips, “Oh, I've been so wrong, so very wrong in keeping the truth from you."

 Canute's eyes lit up as his heart filled with hopeful anticipation. This was it… Long at last he might learn all the missing info about his dad. And then, he will come and save them.

But what Canute heard next was totally unexpected and blunt details terribly angst (wrenched) his heart.

 "Your father is a monster, a vile, cruel heartless beast.  You must stay away, clear away from him.  Promise me child that you'll never go seek him out."  Her cheeks afire, she looked searchingly, intently into his bewildered, disbelieving eyes.

Her obvious distress (anxiety) forced Canute to stammer out his acquiescence though, in his heart, he had no intention of keeping it.

Helga, seeing that Canute needed to be convinced, tearfully bemoaning their cruel fate, gradually, unfolded the rest, the entire, painful truth about Canute’s father.

Helga confessed how, at first, it was only the burning desire for vengeance that had sustained her and, how unwittingly for a time, she had almost transferred that hatred to her innocent little baby, Canute, who bore such a likeness to that cursed Senson Luko.

 She had lingered in this tormented state for so many years, torn between her intense abhorrence of Senson verses, the innate, powerful bond that existed between mother and child, till eventually her emotions had sorted themselves out.

 As Canute grew up and she, wanting to see him grow up healthy and have a normal life, had forced her to forsake vengeance and bury those dark, painful memories that were eating her alive.

"Oh, my precious, it was wrong of me to have carried such hatred in my heart for so long, but I could not help it. As it were, it irreversibly sapped my life's blood, drained my youthful vitality from my veins and left me infirm, a shriveled up ailing fool that I've become.  My own folly (psychosis, obsession) has been my undoing, not anything Tike has done or could do.  Now it’s too late for regrets, too late for anything."  Her words were punctuated by deep sighs and tearful sobs.

"Please, darling, don't be like me.  Don't be like your senseless, useless mother who has thrown her life away on, hate.  Bury the past for good and leave it where it belongs.  Forget Senson.  Forget that you've ever had, a father.  Forget what he has done to me, to us.”

“I had to tell you these hard truths to make you understand.  I know how inquisitive and stubborn your innate nature is; however, you must desist and never, ever contact him.  Stay away; stay clear away from that unconscionable beast if anything should ever happen to me."  She paused to wipe away her tears and blow her nose.

She was fearful lest she should lapse unconsciously before she had finished her say, so ignoring all the signs of alarm, she pushed on relentlessly.

 Her hoarse voice took on a note of urgency as she counselled him, "Be strong, son, and get away, far, far away from this miserable, horrible place.  Now, don't be obstinate!  Promise me you'll do as I've asked."  Receiving an obedient, reluctant nod, she continued, "Remember, Canute, beneath that third, loose board, and the one I'd shown you earlier."  She pointed to a spot on the floor beneath the overstuffed chair where Tike had been sitting.  "There's a small amount saved up.  You can use it for your escape.  You must get away, far, far away from here, child.  Oh yes, one more thing..."  She had to stop for breath. 

Exertion, the wear and tear, were beginning to take its toll on her.  She shifted the covers to conceal the stain of the hemorrhaging from him.

"Trust no one…No one other than Nikish, perhaps.  The old gardener likes you; I know.  Yes, ask his help but only his, no one else," she stammered despondently turning her face away. 

06-NIKKISH (THE OLD GARDNER)

Her head was swimming, and her face had again turned ghostly pale.  She sighed softly and closed her eyes.  With great effort she murmured, "Tonight.  Remember.  You must flee this wretched cage tonight!"

Yes, mama, we'll get away.  I'll ask Nikish.  He'll help us escape, don't you worry," new hope sprang up in Canute's heart as he elatedly responded.  He liked Nikish, the sympathetic, countrified old widower Canute'd lately befriended and he knew that, if asked, he'd do his best to help them flee to safety.

"No, child… My poor, poor baby!  You're so frantic that you're not listening; you're not hearing what I'm saying.  My wish, my desire, is that only you break free.  Forgive me, Canute, my precious, but I can't come with you.  I don't have the strength.  I don't think I have very much longer left to live."

He was already half-way to the door with the intent of fetching Nikish when, turning, he'd rushed back to her side.  Clutching her hand, he cried frantically, "No, mama, you mustn't speak like that.  You'll get well.  Don’t lose hope. We'll both get away together, you'll see.  I won't leave you, mama.  I can't leave you.  Let me go get Nikish, he'll help us."

"No, I can't.", she panted, gasping for breath.  "Now go, please go."

"I won't.  You promised.  You promised you'd never leave me!"  Canute, livid with fear, clung to her tightly.  "Why?  Why are you trying to drive me away?  Please, Mama.  Don't you love me anymore?  I'll be good.  I'll be-behave.  Don't push me away, mama.  Please, mama."

"Oh, child," she gasped in exasperation.  "Why, why are you making this so difficult for me?  Please, precious, do try to understand.  I'm not abandoning you, not by choice."

 She put her trembling hand over his and, her throat constricting, managed to whisper, "Don't you know, my darling, that wherever you go, I'll be there.  Even, even in spirit form I'll always be watching ov…"  The last word froze midway on her lips and her painful breathing grew weaker and weaker still.  There was a slight gurgling sound from her throat as all the color drained from her face.  Then she opened her lackluster eyes a crack and her lips quivered as if wanting, trying to speak, but no sound emerged.  There was no breath to carry it out.

"Mama... Mama!"  An inexplicable fear wrenched Canute's heart in its iron grip as his hysterical, muffled cries pierced the cold night air.  Recoiling in terror, then wretchedly clutching her limp body, he collapsed over her weeping.  Trying to breathe some life back into her he hugged her with all his might, shaking her and rocking back and forth.

His revulsion against Senson intensified.  "I hate him, mama.  I hate him!  I'll make him pay for what he has done to you," he ranted.

 Like a mad bull his mouth foamed in all-consuming rage as his nails drew blood from his clenched fists.  All the pent-up anger, resentment, terror, gloom, pain, loneliness, sorrow, despair and disillusionment mixed together to tear his soul to shreds.  With these fiery storms erupting in his heart, the hot tears gushed ceaselessly in torrents to wash his burning face clean and drench his mother's pale blue gown.

Subsequently, in accordance with his mother’s last wishes, Canute had tried hard to purge his heart from that consumptive hatred of Senson, but in vain.

 Oh, how he had loathed Senson then, and thereafter! That vile beast was responsible for all the misery and grief heaped on his beloved mother. 

He’d also promised at her deathbed to forget (to put all hatred behind him) but tried as he did, he could not, nor could he forgive.

 How could he?  How could he not avenge Helga, his darling mother, who had been so wronged and so tormented all her life? 

The injustice wrought by Senson had seared Canute's heart so completely, with such fiery intensity that he would never again be able to staunch its blaze.

(END OF SECTION 27) 

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 7

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 7

For the remainder of that morning Svein, riding alongside Fradel, had respectfully kept his silence understanding that a serious grievance was at the root of Fradel's reverie. 

Most appreciative of this quiet, Fradel struggled hard but without avail, to dispel the gruesome, vivid images forming in his mind's eye: The mound of earth, overgrown with grasses and bush, the old man sitting at its edge, perfectly motionless, the gnarled walking cane resting unused on the earth beside him; these visions still persisted in haunting his peace and try as he might, after all this time, he could not purge his heart of a dogged, all-consuming despondency and guilt.

Currently, Fradel’s mind yet again ruminated (cogitated, recollected) of that long ago, the unpleasant happenstance (twist of fate, quirk) which should have been ordinarily locked in his subconscious psyche. Fradel inhaled deeply and sullenly harked back to that time when on route to Terek  he’d, sighting a solitary seated figure some distance down the road, assumed the old man to be asleep or in a trance; but, when a shaft of sunlight suddenly peeped through the dense rain clouds, Fradel’s acute vision had then noted the glistening tears streaming down the man's pale, wrinkled, sunken cheeks.  Now ordinarily, he would have sent his stewards to make inquiries but, propelled by an unexplained, strange desire, he’d dismounted at the edge of the roadside. As he was hot, he first took off his garment’s (top) outer layer and, handing this and the reins of his stead to one of the stewards, meanwhile, (ignoring) paying no heed their strong protests, ordered them to stay put, then went forth to investigate.

 As he advanced towards the old man, he’d for a spell, experienced some trepidation but kept on with determined steps regardless, climbing the rocky, uneven hillock, till he had reached the sorrowful being.  Halting a few steps back, he'd respectfully bowed in greeting, introduced himself as gently and politely as he could, however, giving him a pseudo-name Serek Vern, which Fradel had adapted wishing to be anonymous during his travels, and then, inquired about the old man's health and possible needs.

The old man appearing oblivious to it all, had at first, remained perfectly still. 

Fradel (Serek), nevertheless, being reluctant to leave him in that state, he’d advanced ever so slightly closer and was about to accost him anew when the old man sharply raising his head, seething, glared at this bothersome, pesky stranger.

Dokurek, which Fradel Rurik Korvald later came to know his name, had initially acted with uncalled-for hostility.  His cold, gray eyes had burrowed fiercely, contemptuously into Fradel's and lingered there, scrutinizing him, for a long spell. 

At the time, the icy, hateful gaze, like a frozen blade, had stabbed at Fradel’s empathetic heart!

Even after some elapsed time, while Fradel had assumed he was making inroads with Dokurek, the old man, with obstinate hardness, had retained his original skepticism of Serek’s (Fradel's) ignorance of the common facts, of his naiveté and his motives.  But, gradually, bit by bit drawn out of his shell, he’d thawed, then eventually entrusted Serek (Fradel) with the truthful accounts and factual answers to his persistent inquiries. 

It turned out that Dokurek's two promising scholar sons had been buried alive beneath that nearby mound along with some three hundred and twelve other literati.

This revelation shook Fradel, then and to date, to the core of his being. He’d never been the same since.

"And, make no mistake about it,” Dokurek had nodded gravely, pointing a bony finger, "this mound is but one of many.  Yes, many, many, more, most containing even more corpses than this, exist scattered throughout this great country of ours."

 Dokurek, moreover, added with such bitterness in his voice: “They even built roads over some, so tread carefully young man, the next time your path crosses one of these.  They have no respect for the living, why should they have any for the dead?"  Inclining his head downwards again, he'd scoffed contemptuously, as hot tears once more glistened in his eyes, but he’d bit his lip angrily to stem them.

Noting disbelief in Serek’s (Fradel’s) eyes, he’d swallowed hard, then grinding his teeth, announced sourly, "And secretly, ever so secretly, it's still going on!" His face was contorted with pain and anger, yet he could not stop now.  "When the scholars suffered such a fate, you might ask, what became of their families?"  He shook his head vehemently, "I'll tell you what!  Some were banished to the frontier where they were sold into slavery, some into forced labor or killed outright and all, without exception, had their property confiscated.  And why the hell not…There is great profit to be had in this sort of vile undertaking by the greedy, grasping patricians (nobles, aristocrats).  In many instances they fabricated charges to fill their coffers and to construct a powerbase.   In these dark times, justice is always trampled underfoot by the selfsame rapacious bureaucrats.  A slander without proof in the ears of the right person would be sufficient for a court of law to proscribe the victim.  On pain of death, who would dare mount a defense or champion the righteous cause?”

It became clear to Fradel that the old man was speaking from bitter personal experience; and that he, too, had fallen prey to the greed of akin official.

"And I thought he was a close friend!"

 Fradel raised his eyes from the old man's clenched fist to see him staring once more in the direction of the mound. 

"And to think my son held him in such high esteem!  Bah!” Dokurek turned angrily to spit on the ground.  "Curse you, and a curse be upon your whole family!  May you and your descendants be cursed forever in Hell?"  Dokurek's chest rapidly rose and fell in fury, until he finally grew a bit calmer.

"The reason for these atrocities...  How is it possible, you may ask?  Ah!” he fixed his dubious, pained, angry pupils above his deep-set, gaunt(boney) cheeks on Serek Vern (Fradel Rurik Korvald).

 "Have you had no knowledge of these sort of vile deeds at all, none?  What about the foul happenstance (coincidence) that had reportedly claimed Taok Therkan’s life?” Dokurek asked skeptically.

"Taok Therkan?” Fradel furrowed his brow, and then confessed to, in his remote dwelling having scant news of the famed scholar, save for once, being lucky enough, to have come across one of Taok’s brilliant essays. Impressed, he’d sought to procure more, with no result; meanwhile, the mystery, the silence surrounding the scholar Taok Therkan had never been satisfactorily explained to Serek Vern (Fradel) and he, at present, implored Dokurek to enlighten him on this subject.

Dokurek shook his head, "It's inconceivable to think,” he looked straight at Serek Vern, considering: “how could your family have been spared this ferocious, evil tide that has swept the nation?  I know of this from the mouths of many, that these long years have been anything but brutal to all Literati. Why should you, your family be spared? And now standing before me you lay claim to knowing nothing?  No, you're false!  Worse, you must be an informant, a spy!  Is it conceivable that you are sent by that cursed Zaur to...?”

 Dokurek looked down to hide the sudden manifest disdain from his eyes then fretfully, stealthily looked about him.

 His eyes rested on Serek Vern 's servants, then narrowed into slits.  "And why should you be bothering with the likes of me?  Why not sic one of your dogs on me and have done with me?  Or is it your delight to first toy with your prey?"

 He turned an angry, defiant gaze back at Serek Vern only to meet the scholar's somewhat indignant, perplexed face.

 Dokurek immediately regretted his suspicious outburst.

Fradel had surmised later how, at this point Dokurek was filled with a great need, a burning desire to believe in someone, anyone, while the flames of his life-force still burned in him. His past misjudgments had cost him dearly and rendered him cautious, distrusting all; now and always seeking, expecting some sinister motive behind every kind of gesture. 

For a time, the old man had remained nonplused, shaking his head and mouthing half-crazed, barely comprehensible mumblings as he turned a deaf ear to Serek Vern's gentle arguments. 

"But there is nothing to be gained in trapping me.  It was not my will, my wish that my sons were scholars.  Besides, what do I possess now?  In my heyday, sure, I had substance then. Even ten years ago I had means, holdings to be coveted.  I commanded such respect!  But now…now I have nothing, nothing of any value or use to anyone.  Nor do I have any surviving affiliates left to be targeted.”

“But then, hmm, yes, you do look the kindly, honest sort. Suppose I take a chance?  Perhaps I've been too hasty in suspecting you?  I mustn't let my paranoia cloud my judgment.”  Dokurek continued mumbling to himself as though Serek Vern (Frade)l was not there.

Fradel, in exasperation having fallen silent, threw a cursory look at his impatient men and then thoughtfully looked down; in fact, he was (considering) of a mind to leave this insane old man when, catching the last part of what he had said, convinced Fradel to persevere just a bit longer.

 “Yes, you may be my very last chance."  Dokurek suddenly ceased his mumbling and decisively looked up. His eyebrows unraveled and he made a genuine effort to smile in a friendly manner.

"Forgive my obstinate ways, sir, but you can hardly blame me.  It's all the more incredible that you are a bona fide scholar.  No doubting that.  I'd even venture a guess that you come from a long line of illustrious scholars."  Allowing Serek Vern (Fradel), no chance to agree or dispute his statement, he nodded vigorously, "Furthermore, my eyes can attest to the truth of your claim that you are a stranger to these parts and that you must have led a life of seclusion, that’s why I’ve never heard of your name, a self-imposed recluse perhaps?"

 Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) reaction confirmed this guess and reassured, Dokurek leaned back, smiling.

 "Also, your distinguished attire, your decorum and fine, polished speech makes it all too evident that you are a well–off gentleman, perhaps an aristocrat.  A recluse scholar from an undisturbed sanctuary who has managed to prosper in these volatile times, an anomaly?” the old man shook his head, amazed.

Despite the tinge of sarcasm in his tone, Fradel had read no malice in Dokurek's face.  This perplexed him more.  And what did Dokurek mean by 'very last chance'?

Dokurek cleared his throat then in a softer tone rattled on, "You are so unassuming, so patient and not the least bit arrogant.  You have a great disposition.  You are by all appearances a good man, not unlike my Kuer.  Still, all the more reason for you to beware!"  He fixed his intense gaze at Serek Vern (Fradel) and said a bit more forcefully.  "You watch yourself young man!  Guard your words, his spies are everywhere.  His policies may undergo yet another change, and quite suddenly, too.  Then you're gone.  Pouf!  In one day.  Or worse still, it may all be a hoax, a scheme to finally entrap you.  I'm curious, though, what part of the country did you say you're from?  Which remote region was it that you hid in?"

Fradel had made no such claim, but his denial was cut short by a gesture of Dokurek's hand.  "No, don't tell me.  I'd rather not know.  Such knowledge is of little use to me now, anyway.  It's enough to know that there is some small corner of this Empire that was spared, where the forces of evil could not wreak havoc."  Dokurek abruptly fell silent and looked away, his eyes resting on the two small mounds nestled under the swaying branches of a willow tree.

 After a time, Dokurek turned to face Serek Vern (Fradel) and with eyes brimming with fresh tears, reiterated his warning, "You must beware!  It's too late for my boys and it's too late for me.  I've got one foot in the grave already, but you..."  He smiled warmly at Fradel.  “I can't emphasize the importance of this enough.  He's like a jackal, a wild beast on the prowl.  His poisonous tentacles reach the four corners of the Empire, and it makes no difference what service you may have rendered him.  Disaster can befall you at the most unexpected turn. Under his rule, all manners of evil flourish and you can never, ever anticipate when the next catastrophe strikes!  So, it’s best you remain vigilant in safeguarding your life.”

Fradel was distracted just then by a debased snigger (snort, chortle) from his servants who had drawn close and were very much engaged with their heads pressed together in animated, amused mockery.  More infuriating still, Fradel’s ears picked up the steward’s disdainful ridicule, "Crazy as a Cakook!"  As if to demonstrate he then stood up, flapped his elbows, craned his neck and began drawing circles with his toes on the ground as he mimicked the bird.

 In mid twirl his eyes caught Fradel's fierce look of reprimand.  Chastised, the servant froze in his position. Similarly, the rest also cowered with stilled tongues and abjectly bowed their heads. 

When Fradel turned his eyes back to the old man, he found Dokurek keenly studying him.

"I'm right about you.  This time I'm right.  My salvation may just be at hand.” he mumbled then quickly looked away to escape Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) questioning gaze.

This time it was Fradel's turn for skepticism.  Had this all been a well-orchestrated performance, a charade on Dokurek's part?  Was he testing me?  Testing me for what?   Fradel had heard of cases where men touched by madness would slip into and out of reality, one minute sane as could be, the next, steeped in peril and precarious, imaginary fantasies.

As if surmising this, Dokurek looked up at Serek Vern (Fradel) and smiled wryly, "I wish it were so but, alas, my penance is to remain completely sane, mindful of all my past wrongdoings.”

“All right, I will tell you everything.  I've kept my silence long enough…but not here, not within earshot."  He indicated Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) servants with a wary look and a point of his chin.

 He rose and Fradel, signaling his men to stay put, followed the old man to a distant spot.

 

(END OF SECTION 7)