Meeting Nihena Read online

  Ervin Agayan

  MEETING NIHENA, BOOK I

  Contact: [email protected]

  https://www.facebook.com/MeetingNihena/

  Table of contents

  The Little Savage

  Hardships

  Bad food

  The Green-eyed Dreamboat

  The Sleeping Princess

  The Cat Named Lolo

  Trial

  The Amazing Girl

  Trial (Part II)

  The Princess and Sunsets

  The Dinner Following the Trial

  An Unexpected Offer

  Two Slaves

  Terrible News

  Sleepless Night

  Memories from the Past: How Arsy Lost the Bet

  The Little Savage

  It’d been a year since Arsy and Elmunia started working together. Things were going well, and during this period, they had managed to improve their financial standing, almost entirely seizing Erathos’ and his friends’ business.

  Arsy knew Erathos would never forgive him and would unfailingly come to settle accounts with him. He began to engage in intensive martial arts training so he would have at least a chance to resist him. However, the techniques and maneuvers turned out to be childish games compared to his rival’s expertise. Arsy avoided meeting Erathos in any possible way, but the latter finally managed to catch him. After that encounter, Arsy realized the lessons had no effect; his resistance had lasted only a few seconds, after which Erathos beat his opponent so badly that Arsy’s friends found him half-dead.

  That time, Erathos decided not to kill him, but warned him that their next encounter could become the last if Arsy didn’t comply with the conditions he had set, and there was no compromise. It was then that Arsy realized the key to his redemption was in learning cathastu, of which Erathos was a master.

  There were few people who could teach that style in Agastan. Arsy knew of only one—Sensei Farin, from whom Erathos had learned the skills of the martial art. He lived with mercenaries, and they were his only disciples. Recently, Erathos had killed their leader’s son, and Arsy hoped that a common enemy would link them together and they’d agree to join forces to fight against Erathos. Arsy also hoped Sensei Farin would agree to teach him cathastu, so he could confront his enemy.

  Arsy made his way to the mercenaries with one of his people, Zens, whom he had recently bailed out of jail for a large amount of money and accepted into his gang. Though Arsy had many loyal people, he decided to put Zens to the test.

  The mercenaries lived in a faraway region of the kingdom, which was located almost on the edge of Agastan. In fairy tales, such places are commonly described as “the end of the world, farther than the land of Dragons.” Their capital city, Mozakon, was located almost on the top of Mount Moz. Surrounded by high walls from all sides, Mozakon was considered the world’s most inaccessible city.

  When the city’s outline became visible in the distance, Arsy slowed the horse’s pace and turned back to Zens. With undisguised admiration, he nodded to Mozakon, wrapped in blue mist, and asked, “What would you say?”

  “I’d only say that it’s fantastic!” exclaimed Zens, equally enthusiastically.

  “Living a life and never having seen Mozakon is the same as not living at all.”

  “I totally agree with you!” Zens still couldn’t believe his eyes. “In the books, these territories and the city itself were compared to heaven, and it is clear that they were not exaggerating.”

  “One thing, however, is definitely exaggerated.” Arsy shook his head. “From this altitude, the city looks magnificent indeed, but it is still eclipsed by Siyeron in terms of beauty.”

  “Let’s move!” Zens could hardly restrain himself from spurring the horse forward. “I am eager to get to Mozakon.”

  “Wait!” said Arsy less confidently. He wanted to discuss a rather delicate matter with Zens.

  “Would you like to make a stop?” Hesitantly, Zens looked around the location, which obviously wasn’t fit for stopping.

  “No, I want to have a word with you.” Arsy cleared his throat uncertainly and added reluctantly, “Yesterday, I shared some secrets with you…”

  “Right, you told me that you are head over heels in love with the princess,” Zens broke in with a sly smile. “I wasn’t really surprised to hear it, but your intention of kidnapping her…I thought you were kidding me!”

  “I was drunk yesterday, and it seems like I put my foot in it.” Arsy’s smile was more than apologetic. “Please, don’t interpret it as mistrust; it’s just that the less people know about it, the better it is.”

  “No problem!” said Zens lightheartedly.

  “Rumors are swirling that someone wants to win her heart. If I don’t manage to put a crimp in the scheme, I will have to kidnap her.” Arsy’s eyes lit up with rage.

  “Will have to?” Zens looked at him askance.

  “Exactly! I can’t cede my Parelia to someone else. That’s out of the question!” Arsy’s resolve was flaring up with every second.

  Arsy hasn’t changed at all since the last time we saw him during the revolution.

  Just like then, Arsy’s name triggered various emotions. Some people started looking around suspiciously in anticipation of a stab in the back; others averted their eyes and hurried to find an excuse to leave. Arsy was feared, steered clear of, hated, and despised.

  He was a full orphan, who wandered from place to place and eventually paved himself a way to becoming the right hand of the “devil.” In some sense, it made him a feared figure in the criminal world, so it was no wonder Arsy was often referred to as the Godfather of Gangland.

  The attitude of the people of Agastan toward Arsy could be best described through an idiom: “If you’re meeting Erathos, be ready to die; if you’re meeting Arsy, be ready to lose all of your possessions!”

  “This is more like childish tantrums,” said Zens, still admiring the rocky landscapes.

  Yesterday, during his hangover, Arsy was so upset that it seemed like he’d tear up; the news about the princess’ new admirer upset him even more than he expected.

  “I’d like it to be so. You can’t imagine how hard I’ve been trying to get rid of those tantrums, as you call them, but I just haven’t been able to.” Arsy added almost desperately, “I love her like a madman.”

  Deprived of parental love and endearment, and with no possessions since childhood, Arsy was used to taking other people’s stuff, no matter who or what that was. When he wanted to lay his hands on something, neither the status nor the power of the owner could stop him.

  Arsy would steal not only physical items. There were also many ladies’ hearts in his personal “portfolio.” And it was no wonder; tall and well-built, he unfailingly attracted women’s attention from the start. His long, silky hair glistening with shades of dark chocolate nicely framed his smooth face and fine features.

  His chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, even nose and lips dissolved into a sly grin perfectly complementing his main “treasure”—deep blue eyes that reminded one of a cloudless spring sky reflected in the smooth waters of the calm sea. There was something in those eyes that made the interlocutor’s heart beat faster, while his somewhat cunning expression captivated young ladies—once and for all, making them forget caution and put themselves in the hands of the criminal.

  Unfortunately for women, an affair with Arsy unfailingly ended with the lady’s broken heart. This continued until the moment the gods became angry and set a love trap for Arsy. It is quite possible that the gods had nothing to do with it, but whatever it was, his fate wouldn’t be envied even by the most vicious heartbreaker!

  “Time cures wounds,” Zens cheered up his friend. “You’ll forget everything eventually.”


  Zens realized the meaning of his words; he used to repeat the same thing to himself, trying to forget his equally bitter past.

  Arsy’s blue eyes were still fixed on Mozakon’s distant silhouette, but his thoughts were wandering far away.

  “It’s been a year and two months since I last met her,” he sighed, “but I remember every detail, every single hair and birthmark on her body. Tell me, master of love affairs, how much time should pass for the heart to stop hurting?”

  “Master of love affairs?” Zens burst out laughing, but immediately added in a serious tone, “I am afraid you are asking the wrong person. You need a specialist.”

  “A specialist?” asked Arsy, surprised. “Are there any?”

  “There must be.” Zens nodded confidently, strongly convinced of the existence of love experts. “They might put a spell on you, so you instantly forget about your broken heart and the one who broke it.”

  “Seems like you, my Green-Eyed Jolly Fellow, just helped me find a new job for you.” Arsy smiled.

  “Oh, I’ve dragged myself into a mess!” laughed Zens.

  Chatting cheerfully, they made their way toward Mozakon. Arsy remembered a story he’d heard about the city and recounted it to his companion.

  “You know, I have heard a funny story associated with the name of the city. Long ago, it was called something else. The road leading to the city was extremely dangerous with sharp slopes, so they placed a warning sign on it, reading: ‘Mo za kon.’ The phrase is translated from Lienese as “Attention, dangerous road,” but the travelers who didn’t know Lienese took it for the name of the city. This is how the name Mozakon appeared. Mercenaries did understandably try to struggle with it in any possible way, but then even they gave way and started calling the city Mozakon.”

  Arsy paused for Zens response but received none. Zens was staring at the looming city just ahead.

  The city sat solemnly on the top of the highest peak in Agastan—Mount Moz. Like a huge white eagle, it stretched its magnificent stone wings in the form of city towers, elegant houses, and elaborately intertwined blocks.

  From a distance, especially when the sun lit the city’s white walls with its bright rays, Mozakon indeed reminded visitors of a great bird that had ultimately picked a dangerous place to nest.

  Such a high location had both advantages and disadvantages. On one hand, Mozakon was indeed unapproachable; the centuries long history of the city, never blemished with wars or invasions, served as vivid proof of that fact. It was impossible to take Mozakon by assault. The city was surrounded by high walls, while the actual location on top of the mountain brought all assault attempts to naught.

  No military leader in his right mind would send his army against Mozakon. There was only one road leading to the city, and it was so narrow and steep that it was impossible to carry siege weapons up it, and the army of soldiers would have to stretch many miles with soldiers marching two by two in a line.

  In case of rain, which was quite common for the mountains, the road turned into a swamp, where one could get forever bogged down—or even worse, fall down the slope and die before landing. For the same reasons, Mozakon was unapproachable for assault during the rainy months.

  It was its strategically advantageous location that made the first settlers choose it for their home. Eventually, Mozakon became a place of refuge for mercenaries who didn’t want to get involved in the world’s wars and disputes. Here, they had a chance to live in peace while preserving military neutrality. Thus, Mozakon expanded its borders and became an inaccessible fortress, the residence for mercenaries, and a world-famous cathastu military-style teaching center.

  The wise Sensei Farin often said, “Mozakon is inaccessible for everyone, except for Mother Nature.”

  I’ll tell you about the harsh weather conditions later; now, before you fall asleep, let’s get back to our young men, who had already reached the central gates.

  The guardians faced them with suspicion and circumspection, the same way they welcomed all other guests of the city. Checking their identifying documents and determining the purpose of their visit, the guardians accompanied the travelers to the palace of the mercenaries’ leader, concurrently the head of the city—Lord Mesdrin.

  Because of its inaccessible position, both from geographical and social perspectives (“for natives only”), Mozakon hardly ever welcomed guests. However, if a traveler did set out for this dangerous adventure into the mountains, there was a well-deserved reward at the end of the road: an incredibly beautiful and mysteriously magnificent city.

  A traveler’s first view of the city was high towers that seemed to pierce the clouds like thin needles. On a sunny day, the white and pink stones of the towers sparkled like opalescent pearls. The blue tiled roofs of residential houses appeared here and there, adding some brightness to the colorful array of the city. Generally, Mozakon gave the impression of a “light” or even “pastel” city.

  Appraising the streets of Mozakon with mouths wide open in admiration, the fellows reached the lord’s castle. A wide stairway led to the territory of the castle from the city’s main square. Here, the guests were ordered to wait for further instructions.

  “The palace looks kind of gloomy, doesn’t it?” asked Zens.

  “I’ve seen worse,” Arsy grinned. “Let’s hope the interior will be much more beautiful.”

  The castle that the travelers found outwardly gloomy wasn’t gloomy at all. The ancestral castle of the Mesdrin family was Mozakon’s principal point of pride. Constructed several centuries prior, this magnificent building was one of the oldest in the city, and it remained practically unchanged.

  Prominently located in the city center, the castle hung over the main square and the city’s glistening houses as a big white bird protecting its chicks. There were only three floors in the castle; nevertheless, it was impressively grandiose and seemed to be simply enormous.

  Despite its magnificence and dimensions, the residence of the leader of Mozakon looked like a house rather than a castle. Its smooth walls made of white stone changed shades a few times a day, depending on the position of the sun. At sunrise, the castle reflected a bluish shade. During midday, its walls dazzled a luminous white, and at sunset, they were painted baby pink with shades of orange.

  All attention was gripped by beautiful white columns with arcs between them, supporting the balconies on the second floor. A covered perch was between the façade of the house and these columns, separated from the yard by a low-standing balustrade. One could always find shelter from the heat in that corridor. The balcony on the second floor was also framed with arcs, creating an integral architectural composition.

  Domelike roofs were inlaid with small brown tiles, like the ceiling of the porch along the perimeter of the house, creating an amazing contrast with the white stone. The balconies on the second and third floors overlooked a marvelous view of the stunning city landscapes.

  “I have a bad premonition,” said Zens, yawning. “Are you sure they will welcome us? Mercenaries are not famous for their hospitality.”

  “Of course they will. I am the enemy of their enemy; consequently, I am their friend! They will arrange a lavish welcome. Mark my words,” Arsy said with confidence. He had no idea what awaited them.

  “Lavish welcome is exactly what I need right now,” answered Zens dreamily, envisaging a table bending with various viands. “I am as hungry as a wolf.”

  After a moment of silence, Zens asked quite unexpectedly, “I remember you said you have been here once!”

  “Right. I was here when I was a child,” Arsy nodded. “It happened at night, though, and I didn’t go inside.”

  Zens shifted his almost astonished glance onto his friend. “Only, please don’t tell me you came here for robbery!”

  “Rob mercenaries? I am not suicidal, after all,” Arsy smiled. “No, I was in attendance of Erathos. He used to come here for classes.”

  “And why didn’t you attend those classes?”

&n
bsp; “Erathos was observing the classes secretly. He used to take a lot of food with him, enough for a few days, and observe their classes from the roof. Then he went down and repeated what he saw. My task was to distract the mercenaries while he made his way inside.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup, he was crack-headed!” exclaimed Arsy. “As you know, mercenaries don’t teach outsiders. He tried to gain admittance through common friends but with no success; they teach only insiders. Anyone in his place would have given up long ago, but not Erathos. There are very few such purposeful people in Agastan!”

  “No matter how purposeful he is, he miscalculated something in his relationship with the princess,” Zens shook his head.

  “Luckily for me!” Arsy grinned. “Imagine how terrible it would be had my ex-friend married the girl of my heart.”

  Zens sniffed clear mountain air and looked at the blue sky with rapidly travelling clouds.

  “Funny how life works,” he said thoughtfully. “You have come here to learn cathastu style in order to conquer your former best friend and then marry the princess.” Zens looked at Arsy with a grin. “Can’t you just live in peace?”

  “We can’t,” declared Arsy resolutely. “Agastan is too small for the two of us. Besides, I’ve made such a mess during the past year that he won’t even consider speaking with me.”

  “And what have you done?” inquired Zens.

  “I took all his property. And on top of that, I trapped all of his companions who didn’t agree to work under my command.”

  “I see why he wants to kill you.”

  “Yeah, I only narrowly escaped death last time, but next time, he won’t spare me. I know for sure.” Arsy sighed heavily and looked at the gates of the castle with hope. “Cathastu is my only chance of salvation. I must master that style to be able to fight him as an equal.”

  “But he has a huge advantage.” Zens obviously had no belief in his friend’s plan. “Erathos has been practicing that style for a lifetime, and you haven’t even started yet.”