LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE WEDDING - SECTION 4

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE WEDDING - SECTION 4

 

Svein’s heart weighed with trepidation, he advanced (sped his steps) towards Seno’s steed, peeking over his shoulder only once more to reaffirm Yagu Dorka’s position.  Yagu Dorka rooted to the spot, had trailed Svein’s advance with his keen eyes, his projected passive facial expression altering gradually to seething hatred.  No sooner was Svein hidden from view by a rise when, grumbling to himself, he turned tail and headed to the front.

“Why should I spare their miserable, unworthy lives so they can go on pillaging and molesting innocent people? After the initial robbery, when there is no more to be had, did they not carry the intent to murder me also? My life would have been forfeited, if it wasn’t for this good hearted but very, very naïve hero. No, I am not so gullible. The authorities, bah, piss on them!” He spat on the ground. “Hah, a good bribe and these ruffians will be back on my case, to finish me off properly this time. No, they must not be given the least chance!”

First and foremost, he went searching for a blade or an axe and found his old trusty machete, where he’d laid it by the covered well, he nodded.

Then donning a disarming smile, he retraced his steps back to the ruffians and, he hauled them one at a time; each still bound and gagged, to around the back to the side of that (fount) well.  Not expecting any ill fate, Roux and Koji had given him no resistance.  Still, it was almost more than he could handle. After each trek he sat on the ground to catch his breath, panting heavily.

 Damn them! He cursed under his breath.  Must they be so heavy, pigs that they are? 

When he regained his strength, he then went over, fetched the weapon that had been hidden from their view. As he approached, brandishing the machete, murder registering in his pupils and a sinister smile on his lips, the hapless victims each had squirmed and struggled in vain to free their bonds. Roux had remained defiant to the bitter end, cursing under his breath; but the other, Koji, mistakenly believing he might affect his fate, had tried all he could in muffled voice to plead for his life.

“No use begging,” Yagu Dorka ‘s heart already turned to stone, he’d responded with the scornful retort, “he gave you his word, but I did not.  I will show you the same mercy you would have shown me!”  Without pity or conscience, he thereafter partially slit Koji’s throat and hurled the dying ruffian’s body straight down the well right after Rou’s - committing both to a slow, agonizing death.

When Svein returned after meeting success, leading the steed, he noted at once the absence of the prisoners from the spot where he had left them.

“Have they escaped?” He questioned Yagu Dorka with a dubious look.

“No, how could they, with bonds that secure?  I just moved them to the back, by the well, where they would not be so easily spotted.  Fine horse, isn’t he, son?  Well, I’m ready.  Let us mount and be on our way.”  The old man grabbed hold of Svein’s sinewy arm and steered him away from his intended aim.

“The winds might pick up later. They are, of course, placed at a safe distance from the possible kindling remnants of smoldering fire?” Svein felt he had to ask, desperately trying not to guess at their true fate.

“Yes, yes, the fire will not hurt them.  For heaven’s sake, why worry about them so much, as if they were kinfolk?  They really don’t deserve that much consideration.”

Suppressing the serious misgivings in his heart, Svein chose not to investigate any further and, in a leap, mounted the horse.  He then reached out and hauled Yagu Dorka up to a seat behind him.

 “Now hold on tight, elder.  We must ride swiftly to gain the advantage.” he said sternly, just before galloping into the distance.

The old man’s heart nearly jumped into his mouth.  In his fright he wound his arms tightly around Svein’s waist and, trembling, burrowed his face into Svein’s back.  He remained in this state of fright even after they’d slowed down, trotting over uneven ground.

“You can relax your grip now, elder.” Svein had to remind him.  But Yagu Dorka’s heart was still palpitating fast, he hung on tighter than ever.  After a spell he gradually relaxed his grip as his fear of falling eased. Besides, his arms had started to ache something fierce.

 You did that on purpose…. Trying to give me a heart attack! More himself now and feeling that Svein had suspected him of what he had done, he conspired to prove his innocence by airing his grievance with an indignant voice, “We really should have killed them, you know. Leave no loose ends I say.  It was wrong of us to leave them behind to perhaps succeed in freeing themselves.  What if they were rescued sooner than we figured, and hastened to trouble us, well before we rescued my grandson?  Aye, that won’t be any joke!”

Suppressing his rising temper at this blatant deception, Svein responded with an even tone, “That is not likely to happen, elder.  We are making good time.” 

But irked Yagu Dorka would not let the matter rest.  In response to Yagu Dorka’s subsequent provocation, his dishonest, manipulative ways, Svein’s curt (brusque) response was unavoidable: “And I say enough blood was shed!  Besides, rendered incapacitated, killing them at such a state would be deemed nothing less than a murder.  How can we expect Heaven’s help, if we embrace evil and practice unjust, wrongful ways?”

“You are too naive, my son.  Bandits aren’t just misdirected men.  They have no morality or scruples and all the time they deliberately cause injury to ordinary folks for money and other such material gains. They prey on the weak, the vulnerable and all decent beings. They are no better than wild beasts.  They should all be done away with, exterminated like the vermin they are, if you ask me, wiped off the face of the earth!  You are wasting your sympathy on the likes of them?  But, why argue the point, since we are well on our way?  Eh well, I hope we won’t regret your good hearted, humane decision later.”

Svein made no reply to this pretend self-righteous sermon. Yagu Dorka had no shame, no shame at all!

Biting his tongue, Svein simply glared on ahead, and then once more, spurred the horse into full gallop.

Frightened to death over again that he might fall, the old man abandoned his next line of argument and tightened his strong grip around Svein’s waist.

After a quarter of a day’s travel, the farm dwelling in question finally came into view. 

Yagu Dorka, in his hopeful anticipation forgot his fatigue, his aching bones, his resentment of Svein, and, donning a broad smile he, with eager eyes, awaited Svein’s help to dismount.

The stern, robust farmer had harbored some misgivings when the innkeeper had approached him regarding the sale of the boy but, since the price had been irresistible and well within his means, and since he needed another farmhand at worst, or, at best, a prospective groom for one of his multitudes of girl children, he had therefore rushed to conclude the deal.

The innkeeper, a front for the bandits, had fed him the story that the boy’s father was an unfortunate traveler who had fallen gravely ill while staying at the inn and soon after arriving had succumbed to death.  In lieu of the lodging and medical expenses that had been incurred the innkeeper had, therefore, put the boy up for sale to recover some of his losses. 

Now this sort of transaction, resulting from the misfortunes of stranded travelers, occurred frequently enough with no trouble trailing after it, so the appearance of two strangers, who declared that the boy had been abducted by bandits and was theirs to claim, sent the farmer into seething rage, fear and regret.

 It was mainly due to Svein’s distinguished, commanding presence and his fine manner of speech, that they were at all received and allowed to air their grievances.  Had the old man taken this journey alone, he would have forfeited his life before single utterance of a word. 

The farmer would have sooner killed him as a trespasser or a suspected bandit, or simply driven Yagu Dorka away from the premises, professing ignorance of any such transaction and quickly disposing of the incriminating evidence, then plain turning the boy over to him.  As it were, compelled to admit ownership, the farmer still griped (complained) about the idea of returning the boy; insisting on being first compensated for the incurred expenses- such as his time, food, and funds.

 “Or we can take up the matter with the innkeeper or the authorities.” he bluffed.

Svein, wishing to end the matter quickly, asked the farmer to state his price for the boy’s redemption.

Since it was also in the best interests of the farmer to settle the matter quickly, fearing worse trouble in the wake of these two, he promptly quoted an exaggerated amount.

Before Svein could respond the old man hastily interjected, “Please, son, allow me.  He is, after all, my kin and you have done so much for me already.”

 But, as he reached into his purse, Yagu Dorka could not help but murmur: “The idea!  Paying to get back one’s own grandson!  He is but another robber!”

 Fortunately, his words were barely audible; otherwise, it would have simply added fuel to the farmer’s ire and growing discontent. 

The other, seeing the size of Yagu Dorka’s purse, angrily reflected on how he could have milked this old man for still more.

The wretched condition of the little boy when he was returned produced fresh tears in Yagu Dorka’s eyes and rehashed acute resentments towards the bandits and this undoubtedly cruel farmer.  Still, choosing not to make an issue of it, they took their leave without delay.

“Elder, from here on, you shall not need my help.  For your safety’s sake I think that you should make haste and travel out of this district.  My presence will only slow you down.”  Svein dismounted, leaving the old man, cradling his grandson, alone on the horse. 

“Hang onto the straps, Elder and gently tug, for slow advance. The steed is well tempered, but whatever you do, don’t kick his sides with your feet. I now bid you farewell, elder; go with Heaven’s blessings and may you prosper in your new life.”

So, saying Svein veered and made his way towards the hills for a shortcut.

“Eyyy!!! Stop…Come back! I don’t know how to ride…. And I’ve yet to thank you properly for all that you have done for me!” Yagu Dorka shouted after Svein.

 “That’s not necessary, elder.” Svein shouted back, looking over his shoulder, as he continued with his swift strides.

“Come back, son!  How can I take the horse, too?  It rightfully belongs to you.  And what about the remainder of the ransom money?”, again Yagu Dorka insisted.

“You will have more need of both than I. But that reminds me, when you are at considerable distance from here, before you reach a safe town, you should also consider releasing Chieftain Seno’s horse in the countryside. A recognizable mount could beget you, unwarranted trouble.   Now, please ride on to take advantage of the daylight hours.”  Svein then picking up speed rounded the hill.

The child, not understanding his grandfather’s anguish, began crying in fright. 

“Hush, child.  There’s nothing to be afraid of, not anymore.”  When Yagu Dorka next raised his head to look at Svein he found the young man had already disappeared from view.  Through the tears that misted his eyes the old man investigated the void and whispered his heartfelt gratitude to Svein; then, as directed he gently tugged at the reins (strap), and let out a deep sigh of relief when the horse began trotting along on the main road.

                                                                                                 ~

                              

Svein had taken the path through the hills to make up for the lost time.  On his return he would, if he could help it, abstain from saying anything at all his escapade- if the sequence of events that had transpired could be called that- to his discerning uncle.  He had blatantly defied Stark’s rule of non-interference; and he was not entirely sure how best to explain this infringement (breach, violation) so as not to disappoint or anger Stark.

                                                                                       ~

                                                                                                                     

“Well, are you going to buy the horse or not?”  The mixed tones of agitation and desperation in the steward Kurin’s voice snapped Svein back from his temporary distraction.

“Oh, may I again inquire after your last quoted price?” Svein quickly getting a grip on himself politely asked.

“All right, all right, but you sure do drive a hard bargain.  I will lower my price another fifty, but that’s it.  That’s my final price, take it or leave it.”

“Then I’ll take it”, Svein announced in an even tone, after a brief pause, masking his bursting delight.

Grumbling, huddling their heads together, the few remaining spectators dispersed, some pitying Svein, others calling him ‘stupid’ behind his back.

 A commencement of a strange conversation from shadows just then piqued Svein’s intrigue and so discretely, he poised (prepared) to listen to the rest.

“Shall we pursue him?” A seedy well-hidden character under the eaves, subsequently asked another.

“Whatever for, oh you mean the horse?  No, it’s not worth our while.” The taller one of the two shrugged.

“Granted, it has some strikes against it, but it is still a good stallion.” The stout shorter fellow insisted:” Why, if it weren’t for the mark and the color, it could rival the leader Seno’s horse.”

“Boy, are you way off!  You mean to tell me after all this time you still can’t tell the difference in breeds?”

“All right, no need to rub it in. One mistake, that’s all it was…one lousy mistake and you’ve never let me forget it! I suppose you’ve never erred, your highness the proficient wrangler.”

“Speaking of Seno” the other ignored the curt rebuff, “have you heard what had happened to him?”

Nodding, the first one answered, “Yes, I heard, a terrible, terrible thing. They found what was left of his partially burned headless carcass, and that’s because the winds had shifted. They found two more corpses in the bottom of the well. That took some doing; one had to be lowered down there with a lit candle to identify the cadavers. Fortunately, the well had been dry.”

Drawing nearer, the tall sinewy one lowered his voice to say, “Our chief was furious and dispatched men everywhere to find the culprits of this massacre, suspecting a group of at least ten.  If you ask me, though, I think it was the work of the rival Micko Gang, and they would have needed twenty or more to help vanquish them all in that gruesome way.  You know how skilled Seno and Roux were, and according to the reliable grapevine, there had been five in all that had set out for that old fool’s hut that day.  I’m convinced the stuff with the old man was but a ruse; this was a well-planned ambush, if you ask me?”

“I am with you on that, though according to the farmer that the alleged grandson had been sold to, he swears only two, a formidable youth and the old geezer that had shown up in mid-day I think, to demand the child’s return and to rob him. The farmer had complied suspecting also that the rest of the gang must have stayed well hidden in the small woods nearby ready to pounce, though I can’t imagine why?”

 “Yeah, why stop there, why not rush that place and raise it to rubble or ashes, also after pillaging…why be satisfied with, though I grant it, quite a sizeable sum… the farmer’s entire life’s savings.”

“You think he’s in on it too?”

“We’ll soon know. The magistrate is landing a hand also, dispatching spies everywhere to get at the culprits. And I hear there’s been a bounty put on their heads.”

Gradually their voices had drifted (melted) into the distance within the dark alleyway, well beyond the reach of Svein’s sharp ears.

“You wouldn’t be having second thoughts now, would you sir? A deal is a deal!”  Meanwhile the impatient steward drawing Svein’s attention anew egged Svein on towards the completion of the transaction.  “I’ll even throw in the saddle for free, a sort of good measure.” he boisterously declared as Svein was about to sign the papers.  Then, no sooner had he received the correct amount and transferred the ownership documents over to Svein that he took to his heels and disappeared entirely from view.  He did not wait to see the result of Svein’s attempt at mounting the steed, nor did he care.  He was not about to stick around for the inevitable repercussions from the new owner, who’d without fail, like so many other prospective buyers had, be thrown off and consequently suffer physical injury, as well, the effrontery to his dignity.

Had he stuck around he would have witnessed the rarest occurrence, akin to a miracle. For this rider had hung on…. for how long, no one could say.

As it were, right from the start Svein had showed unusual daring by throwing away the riding crop that the steward had handed him, though he had approached the high-spirited horse with some caution.  He first patted the mane and imparted a few soothing words into the animal’s ear, as if in communication, then, setting foot in the stirrup, mounted the horse.  He had barely enough time to grasp the reins and sound the command to advance when the steed suddenly took off at a gallop. 

Market place, then the actual town, in a blinking of an eye, diminishing from rear view; as with lightning speed, oblivious to Svein’s commands, the steed, bounded over fences, rocks, thick bushes, ponds and other such obstructions, and cut a path under and over low-hanging tree branches.  Subsequently, with purposeful intent, the charger (horse) tried his best to throw his rider off his back.  But Svein, with skill and equal persistence, had hung on for the duration, fastening his grip on the reins and (his legs) clinging tightly to the animal.

After countless hours spent at the gallop the stallion, now soaked in sweat, finally conceded and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of nowhere.  Svein dismounted and sat on the ground to catch his breath, trusting the animal not to run away.  The arduous journey had left him drained of energy as well, but he remained neither angry nor resentful of the horse.  Quite to the contrary, the steed’s defiant spirit had won his approval and respect.

When his breathing had returned to normal Svein threw a sidelong glance at the stallion and burst into loud, hearty laughter; the horse in turn reciprocated the same, by whinnying and thumping his right foot on the ground.  Then an unusual thing happened.  The horse moved right up to Svein and, with his hot breath assailing Svein’s back, gently nudged him, clearly wanting another go at it.

“All right, I’ll oblige, but I dare you to show me more of your tricks.  Feel free to test my stamina and skill against your own and fear no reprisals.  But if I win, you must admit that I am worthy (person to be in charge) and accept me as your master.”

As if the horse had understood this new dare, he nodded his head and whinnied then stood perfectly still for Svein to mount him.

No sooner was Svein in the saddle than the horse shook the flecks of foam from his mouth then reared, bucked and, when that did not work, fell into full gallop once more.  Going faster than an arrow just released from the bow they raced through the strange countryside on and on, their path eventually illuminated, only by the countless stars that dotted the sky and the glorious full moon that looked on with his curious smile.

 With his unyielding nature the stallion did his utmost to exhaust, and at the same time goad Svein, essaying all manner of tricks to throw Svein off of his back.  During the incessant ride, at times low-lying branched grazed Svein’s back, while at other times the horse himself fell victim to his own tricks, with Svein barely escaping injury by straddling the horse’s side.

 In the end the horse had to submit to Svein’s will and acknowledged him as a worthy master.

Standing in the middle of a field astride the horse, Svein looked at the deep night sky.  “New master, new name, I think I shall call you Fiery Comet.”, Svein sounded his decision in the horse’s ear, receiving a whinny and nod of the head in compliance.

                                                                                

With pride swelling in his chest, Svein was able to reach the cabin after several days riding and had called out to his uncle, anxious to show off his treasure.

Stark was most impressed and wanted to know at once how Svein had come by such a superior breed of war-horse.

FIERY COMET

Concealing some facts, while embellishing others, Svein had told his uncle the whole story.  Stark, though aware that his nephew had not been entirely truthful with him, had not dwelt on it and allowed Svein a moment of respite.

 

                                                                                          ~

(STAY TUNED FOR SECTION 5)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ORDEAL (SECTION 2)

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE ORDEAL 

 (SECTION 2)

 It so happened that, when a heavy downpour of a subsequent time constrained her to take shelter earlier than usual in an abandoned cave-and yes, strangely enough no sooner the need arose, one without fail always mysteriously availed itself- fortuitously or not, she’d spotted a cluster of wild mushrooms at the interior of the cave just past the entrance, and mistaking them for an edible variety, she’d used some of it as a garnishing to liven up her otherwise dull fare. 

Consequently, shortly after ingesting it she’d lost all consciousness, remaining so, in that most vulnerable state for an unsettlingly undetermined time. Afterwards she’d shuddered at the thought of it, for imperiled (rendered vulnerable) such, she could have fallen prey to perhaps a malignant force or forces. As it were, the moment her eyelids were shut, an enormous size snake- a python of sorts appearing on the scene- had quietly coiled her in a protective circle and remained so for the entire duration of her sleep.

 Meanwhile the steed had already been well teetered some ways off inside the mouth of the cavern; though greatly alarmed, he could not run away. When she’d finally regained her consciousness, sensing a presence of sorts, she’d turned on her side somewhat groggily, with her eyes slid ajar to behold just then the gargantuan, long tapering cylindrical form silently slithering away to instantaneously (summarily) vanish into thin air.

 In her petrified (terrified) state, her already rigid limbs growing colder still, as if anesthetized, became fastened to the very ground. Eventually with the warm blood once more coursing through her veins she’d regained the full use of her faculties.  Needing a breath of fresh air then, she’d steadied her nerves and willed her feet to the outside; but one catastrophe besetting another; she’d this time come face to face with the most ferocious mountain lion guarding the entrance.

Two fiery gleams from crimson pupils had (shot) projected forth to pierce her very soul; then, in a blinking of an eye it too had evaporated, leaving her to doubt the validity of this intense and frightful experience. Ghostly white, her hand resting on a pounding, palpitating heart, she’d after a spell, dismally thence had shaken her head and took in a calming breath.

Get a grip on your sense’s girl! It’s nothing more than a bogus, surreal imagery. Biting the corner of her upper lip, she then loudly reasserted: “There’s nothing before me. It’s only a cruel hoax of my imagination, an elaborate hallucination, or perhaps, the remnant of the nightmare!” For what other explanation could there be, still, it’d felt so real!  

Oh, but this is so disconcerting- in my solitude my mind has begun playing such tricks on me! Her forehead creasing, with a frown she again inwardly aggrieved. I’m increasingly becoming delusional; and how long will it be, before the impending insanity? This wildlife abstinence besieged by this abject, unearthly silence, living each day on the precipice, how much more can I, must I endure? Shall I ever reach my objective, or shall I be worsted (defeated) way before any true chance is gained? Thus far I’d stood firm in my belief of Heaven’s guidance and protection; but what if I’m, I’ve been wrong all along? Could I in fact, perhaps, cast under the spell of evil mountain spirits, am being led astray, driven into the very core of the destructive fires of the Underworld; or equally worse, be trapped permanently in the sinister web of abysmal loss?

                                                                                      ~

Thankfully, subsequent days nothing untoward had happened, nothing at all worth mentioning. Through sheer willpower she’d regained her full sensibilities and once more focused her attention on achieving the task at hand (major objective).

The hardest ordeal to overcome however, had been the ever-present weird quiet and the unsettlingly persistent monotony that had by then expanded till it’d stilled the very wind and engulfed the all-encompassing air. Meanwhile, the ache of loneliness growing incessantly strong, had by degrees gripped her heart, her very soul in such an all-consuming vise that it had dangerously at times distorted full facts, consumed life’s least joy, diminishing any or scant hope. Her sanity teetering on the brink, of late she’d entertained a vehement hanker, that her constant, albeit phantom companion be somewhat manifest, regardless of whatever the form!

On this singular morning with the invariable concern still pestering her mind, before setting out on the next leg of the journey she’d voiced her pent-up desire, then laughed out loud at her own folly, her silliness for doing so.

After an incessant, grueling ride where they’d ascended the precariously hung narrow strip of the goat’s path that semi-circled a steep cliff and then negotiated a difficult, rocky terrain- by late afternoon of the subsequent day, she and the horse had finally got some reprieve when they’d reached a relatively sheltered, level, grassy patch.

Her face now gently caressed by the subdued winds, in her exhaustive state she was soon lulled into a consistent stupor (trance) by that ever-present monotonous, unnatural quiet; ergo she rode on with a hung head, her mind lost in a miasma of obscure imagery- leaving the more alert steed to at will pick the course. When the mount suddenly halted and neighing threaded his hoof nervously on the ground, Teuquob snapped out of her hypnotic reverie, sullenly raised her head and looked bleakly on ahead not expecting much of any variance.

What’s this, another phantom?

Remarkably however, what she’d perceived did not, as in the past, spontaneously dissipate or instantly vanish into thin air. This time around the illusory mental image persisted (lasted) and remained altogether solid.

Oh, but how can this be? Disbelieving her eyes she rubbed them, and then with a focused vision anew looked on. But no mistaking it… There, up ahead her eyes still beheld a rather pleasant looking, long haired, clean shaven young man who was not much older than she and what’s more, was clad in strangely familiar attire. His bearing was immaculately clean and well composed. Armed with a staff, he supported a bundle over one shoulder.

Unabashedly (brazenly) meeting her inquisitive eyes, he simply nodded as if in answer, yes, you are not envisioning me. I assure you, I’m flesh and bones! 

 

Then sporting a most charming smile he quickly advanced with bold strides towards her. His friendly demeanor had at once disarmed her, but not her nervous steed, which now fidgeted terribly and strove to run away. As she dismounting, tried to calm the beast, the young man meanwhile at closer proximity now, graciously, with an elaborate gesture of the hand and bow of the waist extended his verbal polite greetings to her.

So elated had she been at the fortuity (prospect) of meeting a sole companion, that the strange occurrence did not strike her as being odd till much later: That in this inhospitable, God-forsaken stretch she would chance on a being, a relatively disarmed one, on foot, so well preserved- with hardly a scratch on him, totally composed, spotlessly clad and propitiously, speaking to her in her own native dialect. Instead, quite ecstatic, she’d at once turned to squarely face him and to extend her likewise polite greetings. Just then, however, the reins that she’d held onto rather laxly got violently yanked from her hand. The spooked beast let out a frightful neigh and arching its back trampled the air up high with his fore hoofs (hoofed feet) before summarily bolting in lightning speed.

But her attempt at rushing after the steed had at once been vigorously curtailed by the amicable stranger who’d politely then proceeded to give his mitigated reasons, at the same time advising her on the futility of such a course.

“Let him be.” He insisted. “The path from here on being steeper, you’ll have no further use for the beast of burden. You’ll be doing him a favor. He stands a better chance of surviving on his own. Who knows, he may even find his way back home; however far that may be!” He cheekily sized her up then grimaced. “But come, come, you needn’t worry- you are in good hands now! Oh, and don’t worry about your stuff (belongings) either,” He rushed to reassure her. “I have here in these bags,” he pointed to the two bundles that he carried over one shoulder, “everything you’ll ever need and more. It’ll be my pleasure to share.” His apparent generosity of the heart coupled with his tranquil, melodious tone had an almost bewitching effect on her, at once erasing any suspicion or misgivings from her mind. Besides, she’d wanted and chose to believe in the stranger’s virtue and moral rectitude, overriding the otherwise instinctual warnings, deeming him to be probably untrustworthy and even dangerous- likened to a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

What’s more, in a short span even the residue reservations had melted away as true to his word, he’d proven quite competent in expeditiously tending to all her needs. The shared, the consumed dried rations amazingly enough, had promptly restored her to her prior good health and vigor; meanwhile, the special brew he’d insisted on her partaking a sip or two, had instantly with remarkable potency, cleared the cobwebs from her mind, erasing least doubt and fear. Moreover, as a lasting boon, her cognizance and thoughts from then on had become lucid, more translucent and focused. At least that’s what she’d deemed, rather, believed it to be true!

The strange ointment which he’d concocted from the combination of few indigenous plants and powdered ingredients that he had on him, had in due course brought about the most miraculous effect on all her cuts and bruises.

 The spare garment, cape and footwear which he’d so generously produced from his bundle -one of the supposed offerings destined for an “Earth Goddess” of a specific shrine he’d hoped to visit- now being bestowed on Teuquob, meanwhile, fit her perfectly and so comfortably that it was beyond belief. The exquisitely embroidered damask, unusually durable, light and breathable, kept her body’s temperature moderately cool during physical exertion in the daylight hours and perfectly warm and snug during inactivity and sleep despite the frigid temperatures of nighttime.  Meanwhile, every step she took from thereon was like walking on air or on clouds.

Necessities well disposed, as means of cementing the relationship and hoping same time to goad (prod) her into doing the same- he’d somewhat reluctantly and bashfully relayed his tragic personal history: Claiming to be of a young lad from an old established aristocratic family from Kontu that unfortunately due to unavoidable circumstances, while he was in his early teens, his family had fallen on hard times. Bent on upholding of what was just and honorable his illustrious father had sought retribution; unfortunately, with dire consequences. Ensuing years of retaliation and much bloodshed, he, the last of his line, finally seeing the light through the rigors of covert spiritual discipline, had long at last broken free from the ongoing vendetta and embarked on this religious quest. Hinting at an unimaginable atrocity, and some of it by his own hands, then a most grievous personal loss, details of which, being still too fresh, too painful for him to recount: he’d, after having ignited her curiosity and fueled her wild imagination, gracefully abstained from revealing any further.

She had no reason to doubt his story. Nor could she fathom the true motive, even if she did, for the weaving of such an elaborate account that would have ultimately ensnared the wisest, the absolute disbeliever in such a potent net. Meanwhile she’d relented about her earlier incertitude and so came to confess of her actual name being that of Teuquob, not Jiense. Despite her gratitude however, she’d remained (tight-lipped) hesitant to recount or to reveal the least bit of her personal history, deferring it to later time instead.

 He’d been both kind and understanding- masking not so well his apparent curiosity- by not pursuing the matter or prying into the reasons for her prior deceit. Afterwards, the two walking alongside, he’d readily volunteered his other admirable qualities, cloaked in false modesty of course. Overall as he appeared most sincere and kind, his amicable words soon won him her unbiased confidence. Of late she had even entertained the notion of forgoing the wait and unburdening herself entirely, without qualm, to this most sympathetic, compassionate individual. Observing him from the corner or her eye, rather discreetly she nodded to herself, yes, perhaps this evening, after the repose will be an appropriate time.

It turns out, he beat her to it.

They had not gone far that afternoon, when he’d abruptly halted and turning to face her, “Please don’t think me too intrusive, but your ladyship is on a similar quest as I, are you not?” he’d suddenly, to her astonishment, blurted out.

“That depends on the kindness of fate sir.” Her rash, ambivalent answer had at once escaped her lips; for amidst shock, she was inwardly pondering on what had given her away. Was it her demeanor, the manner of speech …What? Teuquob, granted a rare name, was merely her personal name, known only to immediate family members and a few intimate people.  He could surely not have made the connection. In Kontu she’d been sequestered most of her life in private quarters, there was little likelihood of him ever knowing anything about her- even if he’d happened to be, as he’d claimed, a prior aristocrat from her native land. Unless!?... Through the trusted grapevine, she’d heard of the existence of DFOCA (Deadly force of covert assassins) an elite network of spies and assassins recruited from all walks of life, in the secret employ of Hedenko. The special force, being party to all confidential information, had perpetuated and maintained a vast record on all key Kontu citizens, civilians, military and nobles alike. Nothing, however minute, escaped their detection or enumeration. The often-utilized knowledge, had spread fear and dread throughout the country, reaching far beyond the national borders!

But no! She quickly rejected that notion as well. No, he couldn’t be one of those butchers; there had to be another reason for his stark (blunt), startlingly keen perception.

From the corner of her eye, she studied him a while longer even though she’d desperately wanted to learn the extent of his knowledge, how much more did he know and was not telling?  But instead masking her resurgent unease, she presently smiled and quickly intoned. “But please do not refer to me in kind. I’d rather be addressed plainly, as Teuquob.”

“Though we are far from any civilization, I still wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to continue on with this impropriety- being guilty of blatant violation of protocol by addressing you by your personal name my Lady.” At once he’d vehemently objected; but as she insisted, relenting, he’d agreed to bend the rules of etiquette a little. “Oh, very well, as we are both cast perhaps by “Heaven’s” secret design into this wilderness, I suppose it won’t hurt to transcend some social barriers.” After a winning smile, with an elaborate bow- his hand in a semicircle sweeping the air- he’d gallantly consented. “In truth, I hate all that contrived ostentatious, pompous nonsense anyhow!” Looking away, he’d then mumbled to himself. “But I am rather offended and should really be cross with you for pegging me a DFOCA spy…Especially since I’ve said and done nothing to warrant that. Pray tell me, what further proof you need of my sincerity and of my good will?” He looked askance at her, then half turning chewed on the words, “Humans!”  

Before she could respond however, anew facing her in an altered mood, he’d with an amicable tone suddenly interjected: “Then again, it was providence that threw us together. An encouraging thought! Hmm, we must therefore, for the sake of harmony, strive to be more lenient, more tolerant of any shortcomings and not take any offence- whether it is in the form of misspoken words, acts or thoughts- to heart. Don’t you agree?” But his question seemingly did not warrant any response, as he without a pause continued. “The fault lies with me; in not completely winning your confidence, I humbly therefore offer my apologies! Absolute trust, basis of any friendship, after all, must be earned.”

Dumbfounded by this lecture, she’d just looked up at him, seeing him as if for the first time, but now in a different light. A truly complex individual, a bit paranoid perhaps and interchangeable as the wind, he was. Furthermore, underlying his seeming humility, she’d detected his feelings of annoyance, and a certain arrogance smothered in impatience.

This time he was truly irked by her. But mastering his outrage, he simply lowered his eyes and in thoughtful air stroked his chin. “Hmm. Unfortunately, yes, there is no other recourse my L… um, correction, Teuquob; you must ascent this terrible mountain that lies ahead if you so desire to reach the intended place of warship.” Looking up, he intoned earnestly, his face the very picture of a concerned sponsor. “But take heart for I can be of great service to you. I know what’s at stake and what’s to be expected; with all my abilities placed at your disposal, you needn’t be dismayed (or be afraid of failing). After all, and please don’t think me impertinent or presumptuous: For I say this with deep conviction: Yes, I must have been planted here by providence, as nothing is per chance; doubtlessly to see to it that you’ll fulfill your aim!”

A magnetic, winsome smile brushed his lips as he again startled her with the subsequent revelation. “Hmm; yes, you may also erase those worry lines, for Ensa is all right. She made it back O.K. The rough (thug) Yoansu meanwhile after an extensive search has deemed you to be dead…Perished in some deep chasm or at the maw of a voracious beast.  He’s long since called off his goons!”

“How did you…?” She sharply looked up, abruptly falling silent. Was he clairvoyant, able to foretell the future as well as decipher her thoughts (read her mind) and know her heart’s innermost desires?

Not quite. I told you the things you needed to hear. He wryly mused, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, you can say that; I’m somewhat a mystic.” He devilishly chuckled, meanwhile, outwardly answering her subsequent, silent query.

Observing her further unease, with a glib tongue he rushed to quickly add. “But I do hope you are not offended or least bit frightened by it? I do humbly apologize for my transgressions. This ability, newly gained boon or a curse has been the result of my long years of extensive spiritual training that had also encompassed rigors of meditation.  Yet if it makes you least bit uncomfortable, I’m more than willing to curtail, that is to refrain, as a sort of courtesy - as I’d done so already since our first meeting till now- from using this skill.  If you so desire, I’ll certainly abide by your wishes, to ensure you of your absolute right to privacy?”

She was thinking, you are true gentlemen, sir! When she, speechless, nodded her head.  

“It shall be as you desire!” he smiled amicably (delightedly). She was oh so naïve!

“I do apologize for getting on ahead of myself.” Lowering his gaze for a spell, he ejected sincerely. “After all, as fellow travelers on a serious quest, we must first learn to be at ease with each other; and only after a sufficient time perhaps become serious confidents, if not soul mates! And please do forgive my reiteration: the foremost basis, the core of any lasting relationship is trust, is it not? Taking due liberty,” he swallowed, shunning her eyes and looking every bit vulnerable.

“I now have a declaration, a sort of ignominious confession of my own to make: Despite the years of pedagogy and all my spiritual discipline, of late solitude was beginning to wear on my nerves. I craved the companionship of a single human being. Therefore, I’ve erred, begging your pardon now for all my unsolicited exuberance and for my however unintended, taken liberties (audacity) since our chanced meeting in this forlorn, desolate corner of the world.” He rejoiced when he again elicited the favorable response.

                                                                                ~

 

(END OF SECTION 2)

(MORE SURPRISING EPISODES WILL UNFOLD IN THE NEXT POST OF THE ORDEAL SECTION  3)

 

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ORDEAL (SECTION 1)

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE ORDEAL 

(SECTION 1)

 

Jiense, rather Teuquob (her actual name), had been directed to a much safer Reaog town by Ensa. Things might have turned out quite different and perhaps a bit mundane if the quirks of fate hadn’t interfered and altered her intended course.

As fantastic as it may seem when she’d reached the key juncture on the road a stray fox suddenly appearing on the spot out of thin air spooked the horse.

The terrified steed bolted, neighing, reared its front legs up high in the air, then after fiercely stomping them on the ground, shod like a projectile in full gallop in an entirely different direction. All during this most grueling, catapulting ride, though violently rocked and tossed about, as mark of her horsemanship, she’d stayed in the saddle by stubbornly clinging onto the horse’s bridle (mane). The steed completely drenched in sweat had finally tempered his stride to a canter but by then Teuquob had lost all sense of direction and hadn’t a clue as to her whereabouts. Halting the beast on a hilltop and craning her neck, her eager gaze meticulously surveyed the open perimeter far and wide as her eyes sought to decipher or to mark a single identifiable landscape, an outlet perhaps that might correctly steer them back to their original course (destination). But after a disappointing period (spell), she had to concede to her present dire predicament: that she was utterly, hopelessly lost! Her heart laden with despair then, she lowered her head and shrugged. “So be it.”

Dismounting, she allowed the steed a brief respite wherewith to graze on the available grass; then overriding any persistent trepidation, back in saddle, she intrepidly embarked on the unpremeditated, variant direction.

She would have had a serious cause for concern however, had she known that this elected course was the very one that she’d been gravely warned against, and that come what may, from hereon, her fate fraught with danger, would be hanging in the balance with every leg of the advance. The serpentine (meandering) route after a treacherous descent, traversed through the most perilous, immense wetland (marsh) to eventually terminate at the base of the towering foothills. Even if she were to be extremely fortunate enough to have survived the quagmire, she would then be faced with the ordeal of the dreaded foothills skirting the massive ridges of a gargantuan mountain.

It’s hard to say which projected the greatest risk: the grave topography or the carnivorous, feral beasts that were said to have inhabited the foothills and the subsequent mountain range?

The “Five Brothers” as these vast hills were called: rested at the outskirts of an ascending most treacherous, most precipitous mountain. The monumental mountain with its sheer ridges, sharper than sharpest blades had its four peaks perpetually crowned with the white incandescent clouds; while its invisible summit reached so high that it penetrated the lower reaches of the azure heavens; hence, the name Tejunar, meaning “the eyes of Heaven”. Tejunar was so densely forested with centuries old ancient trees that in parts the sun’s rays were completely blotted out. The entire mountain range, meanwhile, was claimed “to have been inhabited” by many guardian mountain spirits that to date discouraged all or any trespassers. The staunch belief had come about over the span of years, as far too many hardy souls, hunters with mettle, gallant man and adventurers, mercenaries or diehards had lost their lives and in a terrible way too, during their bold undertaking (enterprise). The resulting colorful folktales embellished with supernatural accounts and phantasmal exploits of apparitions, goblins or evil entities had increasingly (further) fed the imagination. And so, for a decade now, despite the apparent abundance of game on this mountain range, no sane man had ever dared to violate the foreboding, deemed sacred ground, leaving the cohabitant wild beasts to roam at will and (to multiply into still greater numbers.) flourish in natural abundance.

                                                                             ~

This be opined unfortunate or not, fate determining the way, at dusk she’d inadvertently bypassed the ‘last chance’ alternate route, to find herself (facing) encountering an increasingly inhospitable territory, that no one would ever dare venture into. Be that as it may, and this being no small feat- day after day she’d forged on- ridden, galloped or trudged on foot as they both- she and the beast, negotiated the difficult, oftentimes treacherous terrain, to cover a great distance. Only at the conclusion of each grueling day’s ride, as the darkness encroached to blanket (veil) the Earth, the bone chilling air compounded by the thrashing winds, would compel her to seek some semblance of shelter. But mindful of the din of howling, roaring beasts’ outside, in that opportune cove or an abandoned cave, she would oftentimes lie there in fetal position nestled to the small campfire, clutching the long knife- a generous gift of Ensa’s, hardly getting a wink. Cold and weary, her head riddled with cobwebs at the crack of dawn, while the horse satisfied his hunger on the abundant tall (lush) grass, she would quickly nibble on the portion of her scant rations; then once again rising to the challenge, she would hop back in saddle and take on the next plausible course.

On this day, after a long spell of riding, this is strange! Umm… the queerest thing! Just then becoming aware, she abruptly halted the nervous steed’s advance. Leaning forward she gently stroked his mane to steady him, then sitting upright once more; she cocked her head to one side and listened… She listened long and hard.

Hmm, still nothing!

To her growing unease, as she looked around, she further became cognizant of the stark, deathly silence surrounding her. Not a single leaf stirred, no insect buzzed, no birds chirped, there was no roar or a howl of any kind, no semblance (apparent) of animal life at all. No natural hum, thud or echo or pitch except that of her own breathing and the steady sounds of her mount as his hoofs nervously trod (trampled) on the reverberating ground akin to a (much like a) rhythmic drumbeat. Cast in this surreal, all pervasive, eerie atmosphere, she moreover could not shake the sensation of being espied upon.

“But by whom, by what?” She could not rightly, guess; nor did the subsequently traversed distance in the wake (aftermath) of the treacherous descent had in any way altered the persistent reality or diminish in the least the ongoing strong sensation of being avidly observed and studied perhaps by an omnipresent, intensely intrusive pair of unseen eyes.

The curious impression eventually did abate (ceased) when, after a long, grueling stretch, both the rider and the horse had suddenly and completely become gobbled-up by the dense thicket- for they had then unwittingly entered the dreaded quagmire! From hence the meandering path overgrown with weeds and brambles with many undulating pitfalls made their slow advance more laborious. Meanwhile the moisture laden air, restrictive and foul smelling, increasingly oppressed her bronchial passages. Gasping, straining for that precious breath, she led the reluctant horse by the bridle, treading wearily on the seemingly endless, soggy, slimy, uneven ground. Guided only by intuition, they had more than once barely avoided several well-disguised pitfalls, camouflaged quicksand and cloaked abysmal pools; meanwhile on the solid patches, the entwining shrubs or the ground runners unfailingly raced at every leg of the advance to maliciously mar or hinder their dauntless progress.

Her heart had oftentimes leaped to her mouth when she encountered creepy, crawly, scaly, slithering, long tapering cylindrical forms that just as quickly disappeared into the pools of stagnant water, underbrush, or simply vanished in the cavities of the earth or rock.

In this nightmarish labyrinth with innumerable days blending with infinite nights, her sanity riding on the precipice, she’d been further burdened with the exertion of trying to handle the frightened, wayward steed that oftentimes strove to just run away from it all. Mercifully however, thus far they’d been spared from the most prevalent danger: of being bitten by any number of the four indigenous poisonous reptiles- for one bite would have been sufficient to render any being or a beast in an instantaneous comatose state that eventually resulted in a most painful, lingering death. As it were, she only had a comparable herb, a sort of antidote in that bundle of hers, capable of averting catastrophes from insects or amphibians. And so, too fearful to stop, they’d for many a day endlessly ploughed on in this incubus maze. But anxiety had not been the sole driving force behind it all; in fact, advance had been partly made possible because of a very useful herb also fortuitously included in that medicinal pouch of hers. When chewed, the specific plant-leaves (seeds) had endowed (furnished) Teuquob with a strong stamina, keen reflexes and heightened threshold for the pain- enabling her hence, to go far beyond her limits. But at the intermittent times when the effects of the drug waned or altogether wore off (especially at the end when there were no more to be had): the mental and physical downturn, the withdrawal symptoms took a terrible physical and mental toll on her. In anticipation of a worst scenario, to prevent her falling off the mount, she’d already, by way of ropes, (fastened) secured (lower part of) her body at the waist to the saddle. But as the time wore on, even with the compliment of likewise ingested herbs, her endurance notwithstanding, she’d subsequently suffered the partial loss of feeling and sensation in her limbs, arms and legs. Meanwhile numbed to the core, her mind had often wondered wildly, reeling through picturesque, fantastic imagery in the atmospheric surreal dream-state.

It was no small miracle indeed, when unexpectedly one day, nearing dusk, both rider and the mount had suddenly found themselves at the periphery, and so somewhat unscathed, emerged from this dangerous trammel and deadly snare. With resurgent zeal the mount had pushed forward then, till he’d reached a safer clearing. Coming to, she’d barely managed to untie the knots and letting go, slid off the horse plump collapsing on the hard ground. After an undetermined time, she’d regained full consciousness; delighted by the refreshing change from the traversed slimy, soggy base- arms outstretched, eyes closed shut, she’d nevertheless lain there perfectly still, with only her chest cavity slightly rising and falling, as she took in a more well-earned, elongated rest under the blanket of stars. Fortunately, in all that time the noble mount (horse) had never strayed too far, grazing quietly while dutifully watching over her.

Daylight anew had brought its own variable challenges; still, nothing comparable to the ordeals just endured.

                                                                          ~

Once more back on course, with the strange sense of urgency fueling, egging them on, with the incessant riding at times in full gallop, they’d inexorably covered the inhospitable, sparsely forested and undulated steppe that seemingly had no end in sight. A mere speck on this vast landscape, this sporadically forested expanse with its intermittent gorges and valleys rising and dipping- after going over the last hump, one day she’d looked on ahead to behold the rank, forebodingly magnificent foothills. The very ones she’d been warned against! She recollected well then, Ensa’s imparted knowledge, relayed mostly by way of diagrams: How the wide band of infamous foothills skirted the eastern side of the mountain range… beyond which lay a far steeper climb.

She sighed, anticipating grater hardships still but fought the feeling of trepidation like a talon that had anew gripped her heart. For what other choice did she have? After a dismissive shrug, she exhaled a deep expunging breath. Oh well, with ‘Heaven’s’ help she’d survived thus far; if it’s so ordained, notwithstanding prevalent dangers, she’ll yet again persevere!

“There’s no turning back now, hope you’re up to it old-boy!” She leaned forward and whispered into the horse’s ear as she affectionately patted the side of his neck. Besides, she’d been drawn to the majestic mountain range for an added reason:

For a long time hence, even before she’d parted from Ensa’s care, she’d nurtured an inner desire, born out of her desperate circumstance- to encounter, to chance upon a place of worship, a monastery or a lonely recluse’s hut. The dizzying heights of the summits with their proximity to the Heavens would be an ideal setting for such. She anticipated that, there, as in her country, the mountain range would be a beacon of sorts, propelling, attracting pious beings of various religious sects or hermits, all irrespectively seeking sublime sanctuary. Indeed, this had been at the root of her tenacity, the driving force for overcoming such incredible odds.

                                                                     ~

Succeeding days, with renewed zeal, she’d relentlessly forged on through the foothills towards the gargantuan mountain range, even though the precariously hung, meandering, scantily viable (feasible) path overgrown with climbers, brambles, thorns and loose boulders, with swift flowing streams presented a daunting challenge, at times quite impossible to traverse. Meanwhile her concentration was so intently focused on the task at hand that she’d in the interim had remained deliberately oblivious to the resurgent eerie atmosphere that had for quite some time now, for lack of a better word, dogged (plagued) her.

The all-encompassing silence had of course re-surfaced (revived) shortly after she’d emerged from the quagmire, and well before she’d found herself at the periphery of the foothills. Brushing this distraction aside, she’d intentionally abstained from questioning this bizarre happenstance; for inwardly she’d deemed it a blessing from “Heaven”, especially since enveloped rather cocooned, in this somewhat protective supernatural milieu- and so spared from the worldly concerns of danger from predatory beasts- she’d been able to better advance, and be at liberty to collect water from the occasional stream, gather berries, nuts, roots and other such edible foods for sustenance.

Leaving it to the caprice of “Nature”, the only manifest difficulty meanwhile, stemmed from the tempestuous weather. For even on a relatively good day, she could suddenly become drenched with an unexpected downpour or be engulfed in precipitate murk, mist or haze; or enshrouded in dust-clouds (dust particulate matter) by the ever vigilant, gusting, thrashing winds that completely obscured all visibility. As it were the bone chilling frigid temperatures of the evenings contrasted greatly with the dampness of the morning dews and the stifling heat of the noontime- this being still the summer season. To survive the frigid temperatures of the nights she would don over her man’s attire the so-called waterproofed (waxed) jacket that Ensa had provided. But periodically when even this seemed inadequate, she would further cover herself with branches laden with leaves or moss as she huddled her body in protective corners of abandoned caves or coves. And when her footwear overtime became too threadbare, adept in ways of surviving, she’d resourcefully used strips cut from her generous portions of clothing to reinforce the soles for an added protection. Nevertheless, in this harsh environment the cruel elements still taking their toll, her lovely hands in due course had become painfully chaffed, as did her arms and legs that now bore countless scratches and cuts. Added to this asperity was the resurgent odd feeling (a hunch) of again being watched (observed) by a pair of unseen eyes that were neither human nor beast!

Periodically, she would even perceive an acute sense of being threatened by it; but in the absence of manifest danger, gradually she’d become more curious and less fearful of the entity that of which never straying too far persistently stalked her. And so, when darkness blanketed the earth, she took solace by dwelling on this unseen constant companion and even at times outwardly conversed with it before falling asleep.

Once at midday after consuming her meager rations of food she’d been resting quietly with her back leaned against an ancient tree when just then she spotted a strange, bizarre creature crouched on an overhead rock up ahead. As she’d blinked and stirred, it’d instantaneously disappeared into thin air. Nor had this been the only such sighting of the mysterious, clearly supernatural entity… She could not rightly say whether it’d happened in a dream state or not, but on another occasion, late in the evening she’d suddenly been startled awake by a sensation of being touched or groped. Bent on confronting this intrusive, phantom companion, on the subsequent nights she’d feigned being asleep and duly waited; and sure enough, on the fourth or fifth turn, well into the night as she’d remained dormant, something resembling a fox, a furry creature of sorts, had warily (guardedly) drawn quite near to sniff then prod her. Assuming that this was not a dangerous apparition, she was about to spring forth to grab hold, when unfortunately, just then, the ever-vigilant steed raising quite a ruckus, thwarted her aim. Nor did she ever gain another such chance, as each night thence; the moment she’d laid her head down, an unnatural (unholy) deep slumber at once overtook her.

                                                                            ~


(End of Section 1)

(STAY TUNED FOR MORE EXCITING EVENTS IN THE NEXT POST OF THE ORDEAL -SECTION 2)