11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 20

Here is a succinct explanation as to what really happened Stuart Chutek, far from the Capital Channing:

On route to Lord Tonzeye Yevgun in Chukset Province, Stuart Chutek’s journey was hindered by tumultuous rains, which had made the major highway and most of the alternate roads, virtually impassable (obstructed or treacherous); therefore, he had stayed for the additional two days at a modest Inn near the Nexoko Pass.

01 B- STEWART CHUTEK TRAVELLING- JP

On the second night, during a private repast with a very friendly merchant and his bookish assistant also on route to Chukset Province, he had been quietly drugged however, then robbed of his possessions. The still unconscious Stuart Chutek was then quietly taken out the back door, carried to the edge of a very high precipice by these clearly ruthless Wolfbane Brotherhood agents, then unmercifully dumped over the cliff’s edge- with the immediate danger extant (existent) from shards of rocks protruding from the periphery-into the deep, forested gully (ravine, gorge) that had a fast flowing river with tumultuous waves and currents, carving a snaking course through it (the canyon) at the very base.

The turbulent and foamy waves of the river had carried Chutek for a time, his head bopping (trouncing) in and out, every so often barely visible, amidst the rushing waters that carved a violent path across the ravine and then eventually cascaded over a spectacular waterfall thousands of meters down, which was picturesque, though very lethal.

Logically, anyone in Chutek’s predicament would have indubitably perished; nevertheless, the capricious (unpredictable, variable) fate had deemed that Chutek, even though he had scant chance to survive, would miraculously triumph over this certain catastrophe.

02- STEWART CHUTEK  (5)

Alas, as Chutek was swept along by the rapid currents of the river, racing alongside the tree stems (stalks, trunks, heavy branches) and, consequently, his head often crushing into or colliding with these floating (racing) wooden debris- he inexorably (unavoidably) was fated to suffer a future syndrome (disorder) of permanent amnesia (memory loss). Furthermore, Chutek ‘s mien (appearance), his once beautiful visage was also irrevocably (altered) marred by the three unforgiving deep lacerations (slashes, gushes) across his face. And so, his ordeal had transformed him from being strikingly handsome to just being plainly ordinary, if not an ugly lad (guy, chap). Then again, it was a deliberate feat (deed) of destiny, or a blessing from Heaven, for Chutek thereafter would remain aptly anonymous and fortunately, be well hidden (concealed) from those that would still seek to harm him.

Chutek was eventually washed ashore to the gravelly (pebbly) beach, and discovered by a recluse, aged warrior that bore physical scars on his body all over, which told of a once violent past. Halvar Gosta was his name, and two decades ago he had permanently turned his back to that way of life, deliberately forsaking all trappings of civilization and any human habitations (settlements).

Halvar Gosta, once a mighty warrior, he had back then been pushed to the brink of insanity; thus, a bedlam (turmoil, conflict, bout), instigated by an unforgivable past trauma, at the ramparts (parapets) of the heavily armed fortresses guarding Eastern far frontier of Wenjenkun, had resulted in an unavoidable two hundred pugilists (combatants, squaddies), one high official and four officers’ fatalities, as they had tried to contain him. Nevertheless, escaping the clutches of the law, he had made good his escape; however, from then on deemed a rebel, overnight he had become a wanted criminal with a hefty bounty (reward) on his head.

Halvar’s unyielding will to persevere had eventually cast him to this faraway (outlying,) corner, where which the hostile terrain (territory) demanded constant vigilance just to survive. Absconded (fled, settled) to this high altitude remote mountainous region (at the northwestern sector of the Konourek Province of Wenjenkun Empire) where all but the hardiest of souls could have persisted, and by existing (subsisting) in this arduous though natural environment, incessantly battling the harsh climate and the abundant, voracious, roaming predatory beasts (that lacked the guile, treachery and duplicity of humans)- he’d gradually (by degrees) tempered his core explosive (volatile) fury (ferocity) and reclaimed his sanity (lucidity, reason). Thereafter, he had lived the reminder of his solitary days in (mundane) routine subsistence and in equitable (relative) peace. He hunted game or periodically indulged in fishing trips, for variance and to survive.

But then again, his lot (destiny, luck) perpetually dogged by erratic (random, unpredictable) providence (divine intervention), once while pursuing a game, he had fallen into a deep chasm and lost consciousness; when he came to, he found himself encountering a most venomous snake, ready to strike him. Halvar’s strong grip had promptly sent (dispatched) the serpent to the netherworld, but not before the serpent’s fangs had targeted his calf (shin, lower leg).

 

03   HALVAR (11)B -JP

The venomous bite would have finished him off for good had it not been for the woman who had happened to be at nearby vicinity, quietly and unseen, gathering rare medicinal herbs on the very mountain.

She at once had acted decisively to save his life. He had learned of this later, that she had first successfully drew out the poison from the two puncher wounds of the viper; then, she had carefully applied herbal poultices to the area. Subsequently, she had torn strips from her oversize shirt and carefully bandaged the wound. The next step had been the hardest to undertake (accomplish, achieve, complete), as she with some difficulty, got him out of the deep chasm, then hauled (towed, dragged, pulled) his massive muscular (athletic, robust), fit form, with dogged persistence, till they reached the safety of her well-concealed (by the runners, ivy), sturdy wooden cabin that had been built long ago by her now deceased warrior father.

Subsequent days, despite her diligent care, the stranger had been delirious, his soul and physical body thrashing about, racked (beset, tormented) with fighting personal demons and dangerously high fever. She with her strong determination, had patiently however, brought him back from the edge of death, with her ancient herbal remedies and medicinal poultices that had been passed down to her.

On the fifth day, his fever had finally broken (subsided), and he had slowly regained his full conscience (senses); that morning waking at dawn, though groggily (dizzy and weak), he had at first lain perfectly still, with his eyelids closed willing agility and strength to his limbs and trying to make sense of his present circumstance. When he opened his eyelids again, this time his patient, stealth gaze had at first briefly rested on his bandages, then perused (scrutinized, surveyed) the immaculate (spotless, clean) and orderly interior of a sparsely furnished wooden, logged cabin:

 His eyes stayed for a time on the remarkable warrior’s shield (armor) with an unusual crest (emblem symbol) on it, the like of which he had never seen and next, rested on the adjacent (nearby), a clearly magnificent, sheathed sword with jewelled hilt (handle), mounted on the far wall. There were also bundles of strange herbs hung low from the ceiling, infusing (pervading) the interior air with their varied fragrances, some of it being positively intoxicating. On a two-tear shelf, besides the window with shutters, rested six glass jars of herbs and 8 jars of what looked to be preserved mushrooms or fruits.

It was then that he acutely became aware (also realized) that he was resting on the only bed in the room. His soft regard (respectful stare) next affixed on presumed saviour’s back, he watched her carefully for a time as she tended the fire in the hearth (central fireplace). Then, while Halvar surreptitiously (quietly) observed her practical, methodical efforts (actions, movements), he inwardly queried, amazed at the small, framed female, who clearly was alone, having so managed to extricate (rescue) him from the deep gulch (gulley, pothole), drag him, for presumed inconceivable distance (length), till they reached the safety of her bungalow (abode) in the woods. He was same time quietly perturbed that another human being had lived/survived on this mountain without him ever detecting her presence. Typical mountainous region overall was an unforgiving place; death stalked the weak, with prevalent dangers abound, not only from elements but from myriad creatures and predatory beasts.

He was curious to learn if the shield and sword belonged to her or another; more importantly, how long and what kind of reason propelled her to live in this harsh environment?

Norna, just then detecting a slight variance in his breathing (also, his slight stirring), therefore, knowing that he was fully awake, in an unhurried manner then had half turned and enigmatically smiled at him with that broad grin; she then nodded, and rising to her feet and turning to face him fully, exclaimed: Its good, you’ll live.

04 B- NORNA - JP

Delightfully then, she had introduced herself as Norna (purposely leaving out her surname) and then quietly asked after his name. He parted his lips to comply (speak) but then suddenly became aware that his throat was terribly parched (thirsty); wincing, and with difficulty he had then propped himself up to a sitting position. Before he could ask her for it, however, anticipating his need she had hastened with the tepid (lukewarm) cup of water, then cautioned him to take it slow.

He had gratefully drunk his fill, and then introduced himself as simply Halvar, taking his cue from her and leaving out his surname. He next with deep gratitude evident in his voice, had thanked her for saving his life and then stated that he was now, forever, indebted to her. Subsequently, noticing her bedding all rolled up, and tugged at the corner of the hearth, he, lowering his gaze had expressed his shame and guilt at occupying her bed, while she slept on the floor. She had dismissed this so sweetly with the wave of her hand, that for the first time ever tiny crack had appeared in his icy heart, threatening to thaw it, and edit (revise) his forever hardened resolve, his (antipathy) utter aversion of all human beings.

Later still she had helped him drink (ingest) a particularly nutritious warm broth, till colour returned to his cheeks. Halvar upon his inquiry, had learned then that she had once lived with her warrior father and that the sword and shield bearing their family’s crest had belonged to her now deceased father Jarle. She had fallen silent for a time and noting her reluctance to speak any further on this, he had let it pass.

05- JARLE (WARRIOR, FATHER OF NORNA)2

Later still, nights being long, as each sipped from clay cups the freshly brewed hot tea, a sort of soothing herbal concoction that would enable one to sleep soundly, it was then that she desisting tears (though it was evident in her face that her grief was still fresh), in a choking voice told him, that she lived alone and had done so, since the sudden, tragic demise of her beloved father Jarle.

Three winters past, on a particularly tempestuous day, a sudden snowstorm had blanketed the mountain by several inches of pristine white, reducing visibility to virtual nil; her father Jarle returning home from a hunt and being caught in this, had furthermore, suffered a fall into a deep chasm which had also trapped a voracious (ravenous) predatory beast. She did not need to finish the narration (account, story), as Halvar with certain understanding nodded his head. He had clearly understood that warrior Jarle consequently had been mauled to death and then mostly, if not entirely eaten (bone and flesh) by the ravenous beast, by the time she had tracked her father’s whereabouts. Halvar had surreptitiously looked at her brief time later, with sympathy gripping his heart, understanding the grizzly discovery of Jarle that still to date, hunted her peace.

Following days as Norna slowly and diligently had nursed him back to sound (fit, good) health, anticipating his every need and providing it without being asked; during this period Halvar, nevertheless, became impatient at being idle, wanting to at least in part, by doing specific errands or repairs, to repay her kindness to him. Understanding this need, she tasked him with minor chores that entailed (required) certain skill but did not necessitate sturdy (robust) strength or vigorous agility.

06 HALVAR (8)

Subsequently, quietly observing her ways, Halvar was utterly drawn by her natural beauty and her quiet grace, but more importantly, by her agility and utter competence in stoically handling (dealing) as she did, the daunting (intimidating), demanding chores, errands (undertakings) vital (essential) for survival in this remote wilderness. More remarkable still, she did all that while preserving (keeping intact) her innate sweet nature and her compassionate, loving heart. Trying not to stare into those captivating, blue eyes, for she was clearly abashed (embarrassed); he quietly appreciated her characteristic (natural), remarkable resilience, high intelligence, and at times dumbfounding physical strength, despite her frail frame. By now, he had insisted on sleeping on the ground while she again rested at night on her bed.

He did not know it then, but gradually, by degrees, as he convalesced physically and mentally, recovering increasingly more his prior robust capacities, he began doing more strenuous tasks and providing regular meat and for variety, sometimes fish (like salmon), with his frequent hunting trips. Meanwhile, he was gradually being besotted (enamored) by this incredible woman that took his breath away each time their eyes accidentally met, or, when she smiled at him.

He did not return to his cabin for a long time; her place being sturdier, more welcoming and more practical than his, and when he did, he was aghast to see that while he was away, a lightening strike had totally (decimated, destroyed) incinerated, his cabin and the immediate periphery (margin, vicinity) to ash. He would have expired, if not severely burned, had he been staying at his (hastily constructed) cabin during this catastrophe. He understood then that Norna had brought him luck and, also for the second time, had saved his life. With a totally thawed heart (ice completely gone- as the trust in another permanently taken root in his heart), now definitely infatuated and almost fanatical in his devotion to her, he returned to live with her, this time permanently.

And so, the two unlikely persons, begun their slow, patient journey towards becoming a habitual (usual) blissful pair, with a consistent tender moments of family, nourished by the quintessential feelings of laughter, deep affection, care, joy, passion, trust, filial loyalty- all wrapped up in the precious bundle of eternal love.

The once disillusioned warrior Halvar had never anticipated (expected) to have a second chance at happiness, furthermore, to encounter another solitary individual, a beautiful, remarkable woman, that eventually became his everlasting soulmate partner (wife). Their frequent, enthusiastic union had blessedly in time, produced his beloved, beautiful daughter Clara who had her mother’s eyes. She was also an accomplished healer, same as her mother once been.

07- CLARA (NARNA AND HALVAR'S DAUGTER)  JP2

After the loss of his beloved wife to fever, three winters past, Clara now seventeen, she often gathered herbs from the mountain gradient; furthermore, it kept her mind occupied and from wondering what lay beyond the mountain. Halvar was very protective of his daughter, though he, not wishing to stifle her innate nature (and her creativity), learned to be patient and tolerant of her often, wayward ways. Then happened another addition to their sturdy abode (home).

One invigorating (brisk) morning, when the first rays of dawn reached earth, Halvar had quietly exited his wooden cabin (humble abode); then, with quick sure steps he had descended down from the mountain, armed with his fishing-gear (and also, his fishing spear), and quickly reached his favorite spot along the rocky shoreline of the tumultuous (fast flowing) river. But then, as he was about to cast his line, his ears had just then detected a barely audible low groan of pain, and so, he had spotted Chutek’s battered and bruised, barely alive body sprawled over the gravelly-sand, half hidden in the thickets, and from then on, his way of life had altered irrevocably.

Would Alvar have tolerated and allowed the rescued being to live with them, one wonders, if he was not a eunuch?

 The young man, rescued from the clutches of death by Halvar and nursed back to health by lovely Clara, then renamed in a quiet ceremony Randolf, fit in perfectly within the range of their blissful coexistence and so, in the end Chutek had lived happily ever after, away from the trials and tribulations of the civilized world.

08- HALVAR - RANDOLF(CHUTEK) AND CLARA

                                                                                               ~

 

(END OF SECTION 20)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 5

 

Zakhertan, turning his attention back on the task at hand, glowered (looked daggers) at the fourth stack of documents on his desk needing his perusal, he impatiently tapped his fingers on the desk and hissed. “Always the same… “    

Reluctant to begin, Zakhertan with disdain briefly watched the dancing flames of the brazier as Neru typically feed them, before reflecting on Lenny Sukzor’s latest submitted report on the covert and highly illegal activities of Egil Viggoaries. The slight discrepancy between Lenny’s and the subsequent information tendered by Juyin, the lovely wife of Lenny Sukzor’s, on her husband's activities, caused Zakhertan to frown.

01- JUYIN SUKZOR (3)JP

The two statements varied slightly on one minute detail; an irregularity so feeble that another in his stead might have entirely missed it. Should he be concerned with such a trivial contradiction (incongruity)? Was it an oversight? No! He must not leave anything, no matter how slight, to chance.    

Zakhertan’s mouth formed into a snarl as he drew another blank parchment before him and issued a set of specific orders to have the matter more thoroughly investigated.  

 “I’ll wait and see where this leads to,” Zakhertan briefly pondered, after which he quickly sealed the envelope, containing specific order, with his Imperial seal. A single logo (motif) drawn on the envelope and explicit sequence of numbers registered underneath, indicated the precise department and agent that it was to be handed to; this too was summarily put aside along with the rest in that growing pile.

Then there is still that other matter, Zakhertan Yozdek irritatedly drummed his fingers on the desk. No! There was no need to review it again. Why was he even debating that issue still?  

Such ambivalence angered him; the one thing he had always taken pride in was his decisiveness and exceptionally retentive memory. One glance at anything, any detail however insignificant or minute, and it would be permanently embedded in his mind. Now tapping that innate advantage, Zakhertan recalled with perfect clarity a certain trivial observation hidden in the report the Royal Courier had submitted upon the completion of his mission. This obtuse remark did not tally with the recently, thoroughly compiled accounts by The Shadow Brigade men on the activities of the newcomer, Fradel Rurik Korvald.    

Ordinarily such a minuscule discrepancy would not have elicited any concern from Zakhertan.  Reflecting additionally on the independent reports of Zyerne Stewor and Tizan, who had also curiously enough, raised doubts about the Scholar and considering the recent happenings, Zakhertan decided to delve deeper into the otherwise innocuous matter concerning Fradel Rurik Korvald.

02- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC) JP 7

    

He might well have inadvertently transported trouble right to the Capital. This farfetched notion now gripped his heart anew with a certain inexplicable foreboding, for far too many had already come-in-contact with the illustrious scholar. Zakhertan imagined the wide scope this investigation would entail, the deployment of manpower it would take to, either get at the simple truth or, expose all the subversives if his hunch proved correct. As it were, the scholars had again been gaining one third measure of their former prominence and along with it, their sphere of influence had expediently grown. In any event a quick confirmation of these nagging concerns was warranted; he must question the couriers Canbir Nonng and Cais Honger further, on the one minor irregularity in their report. Zakhertan had always insisted on complete and accurate assessments and, if this was the result of incompetence, sacrificing accuracy for expedience, then the couriers would have to answer for it with their lives. Quickly he dispatched another written order, this one to order the couriers to hand over their mission to the one who would be sent in their stead and return in post haste to the Capital.   

That was the end of it. Finally, Zakhertan leaned back and stretched out his limbs.

Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund having concluded his assigned task expediently a short time earlier, had been waiting patiently for Zakhertan to finish his; he now came forward on the slight indication of Zakhertan Yozdek, to receive his verbal instructions in an ingenious code so secret that it was known only to the two.  Afterwards, Qarzten routinely picked up the order packets and, after bowing respectfully, hurried out the door to distribute them to the various department heads. All were required to work longer hours than the Sovereign.

The door quickly closed behind the Senior Grand Secretary, Zakhertan Yozdek watched with an uninterested blank stare Neru’s progress, then sat motionless in deep contemplative silence, dark clouds of thought swirling through his head and his guards only a whisper away.

    

                                                                                 ~    

    

Hastening out of the vestibule leading from the Imperial Chambers, the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund’s head was full of the multiplicity of orders, arrangements, and duties that he must complete before the day’s session was over. So entangled was Qarzten Caimund in these thoughts that he did not see and nearly run into (collided with) a similarly distracted Crown Prince Herleif, as Prince rushed in the opposite direction armed with a stack of ancient scrolls and star charts.   

"On yet another urgent errand; are we, Master Caimund?"    

Prince Herleif’s tone, beneath that remark, grated on Qarzten Caimund’s nerves as it always did. The Senior Grand Secretary’s face tightened, and he averted his eyes for a moment, “You are such a barefaced weasel; still suckling your mother's milk after twenty-three years. Your derision is still palpable under that semblance of sarcasm.”  Qarzten Caimund looked squarely at the prince Herleif now and nodded tersely.

03- -QARZTEN CAMUND (16)Bjp

"I gather His Highness is free now."  The Crown Prince, with typical arrogance, had completely ignored Qarzten's response to his barb and spoke now in the icy tone he used for the servants. "You will step aside to let me pass."    

“This hall will fit five armored guards marching abreast. Did you expect me to acknowledge this childish attempt to flaunt your authority? Let us see just how far your authority will get you.” Qarzten Caimund mocked the prince inwardly.

 

 "By all means." Qarzten smiled tightly as he half turned and shot a knowing glance towards the guards at the chamber doors, moving as slow as he could to antagonize prince Herleif.

"I would like to mention however, that this time may not be appropriate for an unannounced visit."  Qarzten Caimund informed the prince, in his even tone. "Perhaps, you should defer your objective of seeing His Highness this very evening unless, of course, it is a matter of the utmost importance." Qarzten tautly grimaced; but kept the words, “particularly the way you are clad; did you just leave one of your debauched (decadent, base) bashes?” and derisively (scathingly, sarcastically) looked away.

"Impudent wretch, how dare you treat me like an imbecile (dullard) child.” The Prince Herleif's protruding earlobes had turned beet red, as he, seething in contempt, violently shoved the Senior Grand Secretary aside. "Wait until I am your Sovereign, you arrogant dog!"  His face suffused with anger and a stream of abuse gushing off inwardly, he strode quickly forward to cross the vestibule in only a second.  

Caught unaware by this outburst of temper, the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund had dropped one of the sealed envelopes onto the marble floor. Anger smoldered in his breast as he stooped to pick it up and his face distorted with contempt. Half-turning his head, he witnessed the Prince Herleif’s way being barred by the two stout guards who had crossed pikes in front of the door to the Imperial Chambers.  

Herleif’s face reddened by rage and pressed menacingly against the senior guard’s, the prince growled, "Are you going to announce me or not? Fine! Step aside, for I mean to walk in immediately and report your insolence myself." 

04-PRINCE HERLEIF YOZDEK (2)

“Go ahead and slither in, you miserable worm, but you won't, will you?” Qarzten Caimund drew in a breath through his teeth then, catching the guard's eye, gave him a simple nod. He had proven his point.  

"I shall inform His Highness of your presence immediately." The stone-faced guard, not in the least perturbed, responded mechanically. "Please wait here, Prince Herleif."  Turning smartly, he stepped up to the door and knocked. After receiving begrudging consent, he opened the door and abjectly entered. After crossing half of the room and bowing briskly, he announced Price Herleif’s presence outside and his request to see the Sovereign.

 "What does that fool want now?' Zakhertan Yozdek snorted impatiently, expecting no answer, and turned his back to the guard to stare out at the serene scenery.   

 Awaiting orders, the guard had stood silently at attention, while at outside, under the transitory (brief) amused gaze of the departing Qarzten Caimund, Prince Herleif had for a spell simmered at his father's disdainful words. Then, he took in a slow breath and composed himself; subsequently, his hand reached inside his pocket, withdrew a rolled-up document, and waited.

 

                                                                                            ~

 

Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek with a blank expression, meanwhile, had continued to stare outside at the placid (tranquil) garden; his stern gaze next, focusing on the oblivious bird, taking in a drink or two from the fountain. Different troubling thoughts however, grievously (incorrigibly) and unbidden, anew robbed him of the peace he sought.

“If only Qijerrik had not turned on me.”  Zakhertan’s cold eyes blinked, filled with a deep hurt as he hissed out a long breath and shook his head. “If only my firstborn had lived instead of this wretched spawn.”  The grievous loss, the events of those days long gone, rushed in to crowd his mind again, searing his heart and soul with self-recrimination and regret. When the stabbing constriction in his chest became too overwhelming, Zakhertan summoned his will to push it aside and concentrated instead, on the positive attributes of his late son.

Zakhertan recollected fondly now with perfect clarity his proudest moments of Qijerrik. From the start, he’d been an offspring worthy of his sire. Not only Prince Qijerrik was most handsome warrior, as he was tall and athletic, though bit more handsome than him; but he had also been endowed with the same temperament, the same wits, tactical brilliance, and akin (parallel) martial ability (prowess) to Zakhertan at a corresponding age.

Zakhertan had hung great many hopes on his son Qijerrik’s shoulders after noting the potential in the boy, especially after, at age fifteen Prince Qijerrik had become, under his strict tutelage (guidance), an accomplished and indomitable warrior. What was more, Prince Qijerrik thrived on dangerous military campaigns just as Zakhertan did. The more perilous the task or more challenging the combat action the greater the thrill, the deeper the sensation the young Prince would derive from it. This feeling was one only Zakhertan would understand and, they were not just father and son but kindred spirits.  

05- QIJERRIK YOZDEK  (4)JP

But then cruel, capricious fate had instigated, on that fateful seventeenth’ year of his son's life, those infamous chain of events that had led up to his son’s betrayal, all of which were now permanently etched in Zakhertan 's memory by the same cursed talent that served him so well in his bureaucratic duties. Consistently every evening, as soon as he had time to himself, they had surfaced despite his best efforts to quash them and, fiercely, obsessively haunted his peace and tormented his soul.     

If only he had acted more swiftly and without qualm to stem the divergent tide earlier.    

 As it was Zakhertan had been preoccupied with obliteration of resurgent rebel forces at 

Wenjenkun’s western borders, while same time he was constrained to adopt far more severe, more brutal measures to eradicate the infestation the serious unrest by the rising literati (intellectuals or educated class) within Capital Province Holger. Unfortunately, while he was otherwise engaged, the contrary seed had been planted and had germinated in the one Zakhertan had least expected. That single oversight had cost him his firstborn son. When he became aware of this fact, of course by then he could not have altered the outcome, not in the slightest.   

Again, considering his then options in hindsight, Zakhertan shrugged with a certain resignation, admitting to himself that he could not have done otherwise for, on that cursed day when the dark flotilla of clouds congregated ominously on the horizon atop the rising sun, his beloved son Qijerrik, had insisted on, and unfortunately received, his permission to lead vanguard in the attack against the rebel scholars.  After all, Zakhertan had no reason to doubt his son's competence.     

The campaign had gone well enough, with the Imperial forces emerging victorious as expected; after which came the punitive action that wreaked total devastation on the entire populous which had aided and shielded the defiant scholars. Unfortunately, something had gone awry, something else quite unforeseen had transpired either on the battlefield or in aftermath, which had forever altered his beloved son Prince Qijerrik.      

The rebel army had fought gallantly and employed brilliant tactics right up until the bitter end, but that would not have brought about that kind of change in Qijerrik, for he had bested gallant foes before. Was it the gruesome mass suicide of the rebel forces when all hope had been lost? Or was it the subsequent events, the countrywide hunt for and the extreme persecution of the many sympathizers? Could it have been the madness of the pillaging, the extensive carnage and mass extermination of the scholar class? Or was it simply the proliferation (creation) of the earthen mounds that had contained within it, countless living bodies of men, women, and children? Could any of these or all, have been the contributing factors?

“No! Absolutely not! Qijerrik was no weakling coward. “Zakhertan once more vehemently denied that hurtful notion. It had to have been something entirely different, something inconceivable and one day he (Zakhertan) would surely pinpoint the real cause. Zakhertan yet again lied to himself. Technically that had been the day he had lost his firstborn son for, from that day forth Prince Qijerrik had undergone a drastic change in heart, mind, and character. He had become increasingly unruly and finally, downright disobedient.  

“If only my son had been a fallen casualty in war.” Zakhertan mulled over, though he surmised that, in a sense, Qijerrik had been just that.  

“Could the fault have been partly his? He should have listened to his son more?”    

“If only he’d paid more attention and timely intervened with apt measures to protect and isolate Qijerrik from those damaging influences, instead of reacting in anger and ostracizing his son for being contrary and too outspoken?” Zakhertan once more pondered on the nagging concerns, with his empty gaze affixed on the swaying trees (that seemed to be bowing obsequiously), for the wind had just then picked up in the garden.  

 “Had he been too stringent? Had he pushed his son too hard, too soon? No, that was not it either.” Zakhertan scowled. Whatever he might have done wrong, one thing was for certain: he had never been lax in Qijerrik’s upbringing or discipline. In fact, up until that time, Zakhertan had taken an active interest and taken great care in ensuring that Qijerrik had received proper, well-rounded education in both civil and military.   

“Then, how could he have failed to instill in the boy, the most important filial virtue, right alongside loyalty and honor?”  Zakhertan was angry and remained at a loss to find reasons for that drastic change in Qijerrik and the subsequent, catastrophic series of events. Searing fury rose in him anew as he recalled the distressing incident in Council when his son sharply stood up in front of all assembled, to openly oppose him. Admittedly, it was over a minor issue, but the act was still one of open, brazen defiance; a legitimate move under the law but it harbored graver undercurrents which would expose Zakhertan’s single weakness and challenge his overall authority in Imperial Court.

 Zakhertan Yozdek regretted now not using right there and then the provisions in the law which would have allowed him to exercise his option to incarcerate Qijerrik summarily. If only he had imprisoned him, indefinitely or even executed him, instead of banishing him?

Zakhertan had repeated the same haunting question thousands of times and each time the same regret, recrimination, hurt, disappointment, furious rage, and bitterness gripped his heart, in that merciless, wrenching grip. Had he done that, he would have spared himself the mortifying, wounding torment of knowing that his beloved son, his own flesh, and blood, was capable of such treachery against him and all he stood for.

There was one other in the family, his youngest sister, who had likewise betrayed him; but Zakhertan had understood and eventually forgiven her for her misplaced loyalty, for she’d from the first, been deeply infatuated (besotted) with her husband, Lord Shonne Gulbrand. But to be so betrayed by his once beloved son was something Zakhertan had never expected or imagined as a possibility. Each time that memory surfaced, the same fierce indignation and fury welled up from the depths of his soul and he suffered that akin, bittersweet sensation of bile rising to his mouth, as the day Prince Qijerrik’s war slogans had reached his ears.

06- QIJERRIK YOZDEK  (3)JP

Zakhertan’s eyes had burned with intense heat from reading those seditious adages posted for all to see in the towns’ squares, which rallied the populous restive and ripe, for an all-out rebellion. Those contemptible words (like gnawing parasites) were permanently etched (engraved) in his brain. One of those had said: “Arise good people who has suffered for so long under the severity of despotic Zakhertan Yozdek's oppressive regime, time to oppose his repressive laws and demand reckoning for the wrongs that had never been redressed; unite and take up arms, for yours is the righteous cause!”    

“My son, my most beloved son; how deeply you’d injured me!”  Zakhertan’s mouth presently, creased into a grimace of pain for each one of those seditious words had been a stiletto in Zakhertan’s heart and the damage hence, had been irreparable.

Zakhertan would have judged Qijerrik more leniently, had all this been done because of high ambition, Prince wanting to seize the throne for himself; that Zakhertan could have lived with, but Qijerrik had taken on the mantle of a liberator.     

This had been unforgivable, and it had unleashed the culmination of all that unbridled fury Zakhertan Yozdek had amassed in him; consequently, he had acted swiftly and more savagely than ever before to bring about total devastation of innumerable (myriad) Wenjenkuners.

 

(END OF SECTION 5)    

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 4

Month after month, each night’s routine was the same for Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek; this evening as well, he was burdened with so many imperative official (bureaucratic) documents needing his special perusal.

“I detest squandering my time in this way, even with the most able of help, monitoring and controlling the wolves that are my vassals.” Zakhertan Yozdek scoffed inwardly, shifting in his seat. “What an utter waste of my talents. This cursed dreary existence … This never ending; cloying, suffocating, bureaucratic red tape could drive a lesser man to madness. Darn it all!” Zakhertan ground his teeth. “Even the slowest of torturous death would be preferable to this present inertia (inaction).”

 

01- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK   JP

 Wearily, Zakhertan closed his eyes as if to escape it all. Never had he felt so empty in heart, so utterly alone; his true aspirations had always been to- as a brilliant tactician, a great general with invincible prowess- burgeon (thrive) at the battlefield… That was the only life for him. Zakhertan heaved a deep, dejected sigh, pining to be once more in the combat zone (at the front line); at least there, Zakhertan had no qualms, no artificial worries to be addressed, nothing taxing his patience. There he would be in his element, thriving on solving precise, (clear) arduous yet all too familiar tactical problems while accepting the perils that each new campaign entailed. Dicey warrior’s life was unquestionably preferable to this cackling of barren hens that called itself a political arena. What a waste it was, for someone who has had war pulsing in his veins, ever since he had been a suckling…

Zakhertan’s mind just then was diverted (sidetracked) by the recollection of a once propagated hearsay (rumour), that had described how he, Zakhertan, had come into this world:

 Purportedly (supposedly), at the time of his birth, he had kicked so violently that he had ruptured the very womb that had prior nourished and sustained his life; hence, he had claimed his first victim, his very gentle and loving mother, Lady Rosaline, before he had even drawn his first breath.

This tale (false account) imparted to Zakhertan during his early childhood by none other than his hateful stepmother Lady Serafina, had left an indelible (permanent) mark (blot) on his conscience till adolescence and had irrevocably fashioned his innate character.

 It was not till much later that he had learned of the truth; that his birth had been a breach-birthing and, his Lord father valuing a son more than his wife, had ordered the tending physician to slice open her womb and extract the male offspring, regardless of the (blood-loss  and) consequence.

02-  ZAKHERTAN'S FATHER

Zakhertan’s father Lord Kade Yozdek, back then had been an influential personage in the Northern border province. He controlled massive resources and vast lands which had been owned (inherited) by the Yozdek clan for five generations; furthermore, he regulated most trade and maintained a small private army in addition to the border imperial troops, allocated to him supposedly for stability and maintenance of peace. His generals perpetually guarded (patrolled) the northern region, for the purposes of preventing and subduing the sporadic violent incursions from ethnic tribes that trespassed into his lands, as well, invaded or pillage the remote border towns and regions. The governor of the district, toadied to the lord, recognizing the fact that he held the real power in this northern territory (state).

Lord Kade, a cold, calculating, impious (licentious) man, had remarried quickly after the death of his principal wife Lady Rosaline, well before the period of mourning had been officially over. This advantageous union however, had been a strategic, loveless union, and though his new wife, Zakhertan’s stepmother Serafina, had borne his Lord father first a girl offspring and then a boy, the boy had not lived long enough to see his second year.

The young Zakhertan had no regrets about eliminating his rival sibling, despite the untold grief it had caused to his, by then odious Lord father. The licentious brute had often when drunk derided and brutally beaten willful and defiant Zakhertan senseless.

03- YOUNG ZAKHERTAN

Despite his oppressive and violent childhood, or perhaps because of it, Zakhertan had always, for as long as he could remember, taken solace in battle and in living life on the edge (of death). Even now he could smell the carnage and envisioned with a certain longing the terrible havoc, the glorious devastation he would wreak on his next campaign. Alas, he knew that for the time being at least he had to forbear (be patient) and resolve few more snags (glitches) in his governance (control) before he could venture anew at the head of a massive army and, finally met his most worthy adversary (nemesis), Emperor Deng Hedenko of Kontu.

Zakhertan’s gaging and astute (keen) mind had already factored in the inevitability of the prolonged and costly campaign (battle) and the resulting gory before that anticipated eventual victory (triumph). It would be a conflict the like of which had no precedence in Wenjenkun’s history; nevertheless, one his heart frenziedly craved (yearned for).

Patience, however, had never been Zakhertan’s innate virtue; it had to be doggedly (resolutely) forced and perpetually (constantly) learned.

“Curse Dwengzur for cheating me out of that fight!”  Denied that fundamental (essential) reprieve, Zakhertan’s thoughts had just then reverted to the Immortal; thus, his fists involuntarily clenched, as he crossly (irately) cogitated (deliberated) on that nagging concern.

“Where was that bothersome wizard anyway…How could he still be at large, a man of Dwengzur's caliber… Escaping his (Zakhertan’s) vast network of spies which was entrenched right across the known world?”

But even as he had asked this, Zakhertan already knew the answer. And it was for that reason that despite Zakhertan's protests and denials, the Immortal’s disappearance had deeply troubled him; especially since the extensive, persistent search, which had even encompassed the regions of Korion all the way up to the island of Kontu, still furiously, had failed to deliver least trace of Dwengzur or his sort’s abode.     

Zakhertan Yozdek had of course inwardly laughed at the circulating blathers, refused to give least credence to the preposterous, imbecilic notions, belief of couple of his supposed, brainy officials, that Dwengzur was a demigod. (Minor god- one regarded as such in a hierarchy of other gods.) 

04- DWENGZUR THE DEMIGOD (49)JP

These key bureaucrat sucker fools, had hypothesized that “Dwengzur had in fact been sent by Divine authority, to assist and protect their illustrious and righteous Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek from serious harm and, once the earthly task had been completed, Dwengzur had returned from whence he came.”     

Meanwhile it had served his (Zakhertan’s) purpose well, to let the plebians be gulled by all that superstitious nonsense. Ordinary folk (plebs) had always been prone to (deducing then) attributing strange manifestations to the work of Supreme Gods. Zakhertan grimaced wryly and shrugged. The Hexocian religion, one of the surviving orders, to date had been secretly manipulated and utilized to bend the inferior minds, enabling that contemptuous lot to be herded like sheep into doing his (Zakhertan’s) bidding whenever the need rose? Did they think that he would ever tolerate, let alone perpetuate that farce, that contemptible pretext of those religious orders, without reason?

“Divine intervention indeed, “Zakhertan Yozdek (the atheist) again scoffed venomously reflecting at this point on the incredulous notion that, Gods would take any notice of the bothersome, writhing, myriad creatures. “Earthly task ha!” Zakhertan Yozdek hissed out a long breath and smiled tautly, as memories of his hundreds and thousands of acts of (heathen) brutality came to mind.

“Surely none of those abhorred acts were condoned by these righteous Gods. And besides, where was the expected retribution; his reign to date had remained unchallenged and consolidated. That proved it: Gods did not exist. But Immortals did exist.”

Zakhertan’s gaze then pensively turned to the painting of the white tiger, mounted on the far wall. He stared at it for a time, then with awry smile he looked down.

05 - WHITE TIGER 10- JP

Few years back to expel his boredom Zakhertan had gone on a dangerous venture, a hunt for a fearsome white tiger that had terrorized three remote villages at high elevation at the northern end, and the  furthest reaches of Wenjenkun’s Toreaken Province.

The white tiger of incredible size and ferocity after his rampaging through these villages, had left behind countless mangled and mutilated corpses (both humans and animals). Hundreds of half-eaten parts littered the blood-soaked pathways (grounds), before the callous beast had finally retreated to his lair at that towering peak; with only a precarious goat’s path leading up to it, way passed the densely forested mountain ridge.

 Always up for a challenge Zakhertan Yozdek, perfectly disguised as ordinary hunter had gone alone on a venture to add this monstrous beast’s head to his other mounted trophies.

06- WHITE TIGER 5- JP

Zakhertan had pursued the carnivorous beast hotly, but then at the crucial juncture, when he spotted it, he’d taken aim at the edge of sheer cliff and was poised to shoot his poisoned arrow when, the earth underneath his footing had suddenly given way and he’d plummeted down into a deep, bottomless abyss (chasm) along with the fallen debris. Halfway down, he had gripped (gotten hold of) one or two of the (exposed,) resilient dangling roots, which protruded from the precipitous edge (vertical drop) and so escaped certain death.

Proceeding (climbing, advancing) once more towards the peak (summit), mid-way up he had discovered the hidden opening to a huge cavern (grotto) and fearlessly went inside. Advancing in pitch darkness, he had followed one of the subterranean tunnels and after escaping six or seven perilous pitfalls, had emerged unscathed, when it was nearing dusk, at the outside.

The topography (landscape) and the fauna that had greeted his eyes, when abruptly the miasmic (vaporous, gaseous, misty) fog cleared, had appeared to him most strange; moreover, he noted the sudden, stark (abysmal), all encompassing absence of all sound. He was considering which direction to advance, when just then a bot of lightening streak from a cloudless sky and then a tremendous ruckus at a distance drew his attention to a small clearing, beyond the dense (forest) grove of trees.

Zakhertan had approached the area cautiously and then, concealing his presence, had avidly and elatedly, watched the ongoing deadly and intense combat between two, sure to be Immortal warriors. Fortune smiling on him, he had also eye-witnessed and heard the subsequent invocation (incantation) of the “Nokuzikos Spell,” by the clearly senior rank Immortal warrior; after which, in a flash, his opponent had then been (utterly subdued) bested.

07- IMMORTALS FIGHTING (4)

The defeated and partially incapacitated younger Immortal had subsequently, been swiftly carted (lugged) away by the victor, both riding the clouds, to oblivion.  

Zakhertan Yozdek had always been gifted with retentive memory and the ability to recall information however complex, verbal, or visual, with great accuracy and clarity; forgetting all about the white tiger, for he had attained a far greater prize, he had joyously returned home. Possessing   this “Nokuzikos Spell,” his already indomitable powers subsequently further enhanced, he had since then been invincible in every battle or single combat. Notwithstanding how formidable the enemy been, his adversaries (foe, opposition) had always (been defeated without fail) suffered the same fate.  

This advantage, the sure gift, had a terrible drawback (derivative) however, for Zakhertan being a mere mortal, after each invocation of the Nokuzikos Spell, he had consequently, always suffered (succumbed to) the subsequent day, an intense and unimaginable smarting (painful) headache. No amount of medicine or care would alleviate (assuage, lessen) the extreme pressure and the excruciating, throbbing in his head. His personal physicians lived in dread at such times, fearing that Zakhertan might inevitably one day, undergo a fatalistic aneurism (aneurysm) in the brain and so expire.

Never forgetting the fierce combat between those two superior beings, Zakhertan had of course instigated for a long time, thorough searches for their kind. But all subsequent pursuits (quests, hunt) had been unfortunately proved in vain, till quite recently that is, when Zakhertan had learned of Dwengzur’s presence in Channing.

Dwengzur, an alleged wizard, employed for entertainment purposes during one of Egil Viggoaries’s infamous social gatherings, had left quite an impression on all that had been present. The culminated reports intriguing Zakhertan, he had at once summoned Dwengzur to his presence.  Zakhertan had at length questioned the so-called Wizard; though infuriated by his deceit, Zakhertan had nevertheless played along and kept his ire in check, to secretly monitor this Immortal’s activities, as well, uncover the whereabouts of his Race. Anticipating that, where there was one, there would be others and utilizing such beings would make him more omnipotent (all-powerful and unstoppable) Ruler.

(END OF SECTION 4)

 

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