LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RESCUE - SECTION 4

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

 THE RESCUE- SECTION 4

Right from the start and all through her cautious trek amidst the thick foliage, Stark and Svein had both simultaneously detected then intuitively tracked Jiense's progression (advance) through the woods till her happenstance on the combat scene. On Stark’s signal however, they had fought on without cessation - mindful of her presence at the so-called negligible distance- until they’d reached the natural conclusion of morning’s exercise.

Subsequently, incensed as Stark was to ending short the daily routine, he’d notwithstanding, quickly donned his shirt and vest, and then squarely facing Jiense with a forced congenial smile, hastened to close the gap between them.

Likewise, Svein too had retrieved his shirt and vest, but then perhaps too bashful to come forward, he’d remained somewhat hesitant and rooted at the spot, only giving a respectful nod of his head in greetings.

She’d picked up the pace, purposefully averting Stark’s stern eyes while silently berating herself for her brazen foolishness and hoping against hope that she had not incurred too much of the old gentlemen’s disfavor, when just then (off to one side) in a side glance, she caught sight of an exquisite, rare orchid amidst some bushes.

What a fantastic form; such vibrant colors! The urgent desire irresistibly propelled her hand in defiance of her will, to reach for it.

“Don’t touch it!” Stark’s dire warning, however, was negated; but even if she had the means to understand his words, her outstretched fingers had already been pricked by the unseen, pernicious arachnid at the orchid’s stem. The toxin was the venomous (baneful), highly virulent strain that rendered its victim instantaneously comatose, then after a negligible amount of time, dead!

So why didn’t he simply let her die? One might ask.

This could have been construed as an opportune circumstance of the hand of fate. It certainly would have been an apt resolution to the multitudinous, portended future problems and inconveniences her presence entailed. But to an honorable man, there could only be one such recourse: an innocent life, barring complications, had to be still saved at all costs.

“Foolish girl,” Stark in a flash having reached her side just in the nick of time before she’d lost total consciousness and collapsed on the hard ground, picked her up and raced towards the cabin, with anxious Svein in tow- for there’d be scant, precious time to spare, if her life was to be saved.

                                                                                    ~

  After an undetermined time, she’d finally regained consciousness, though in a fevered state and drenched in perspiration, with her head pounding, suffering vertigo and feeling as though her innards, total viscera had been sliced or torn asunder.

“You are most fortunate indeed young lady that I have in my possession this rare antidote.” Stark shook his head. “Your recklessness almost cost you, your life, and it still might. But of course, you don’t understand a word of what I’m saying.” Stark exhaled rather exasperatedly, and then holding the cup to her lips, urged her to ingest some more of the medicine. It was most acrid in taste and almost made her spew it out. When he deemed that she had had enough, he helped to gently recline her head back on the pillow and pulled the covers up to her chin.

“There’s nothing further we can do now, try to get some rest. The fever and chills will pass eventually.”  His words, the intent of it was, nevertheless, being communicated, she nodded and closed her eyes.

                                                                                  ~

 For some time now the meat and vegetable broth infused with special herbs simmering on low heat, gave off an appetizing aroma.  After repast, with everything in Stark and Svein’s life being somewhat regulated, each in their own way was immersed in their specific nightly routine. Stark opting to pass the time by reading a passage from a bound book sat quietly by the crackling fire, meanwhile Svein situated at his study desk dealt with that day’s lessons. Despite the outward appearances however, Svein’s attention time and again had defiantly strayed from his studies, his mind frequently being preoccupied with the convalescing Jiense in the next room.

It had taken her two days and still she had not sufficiently (adequately) recovered; a while back, however, she’d been able enough to have a change of clothing and now in that makeshift nightgown she rested with better ease. Her old garments, though many times soaked with perspiration and such, when she discarded them off to a side and was picked up, looked and smelled fresh as though newly washed. Clearly magical, it had been neatly folded and placed in plain view on the chest opposite to her bed. Reflecting on this and other such inconsistencies, Svein’s resurgent curiosity about her, untowardly again peaked. He stole a cautionary look at his uncle. Nothing fazed Stark; he was very much engrossed in his reading. Why couldn’t he be more like his uncle? In contrast to Stark’s  infinite patience, he had to strive hard at curbing or taming his unbridled, curious nature; and whenever he was faced with least conundrum, as it was the case at present, it’d always nagged at him till he’d solved every bit of  the inexplicable facts.

Svein was suddenly drawn out of his private revere however when just then a sound of stirring was heard (came) from Jiense’s room.

“I’ll look in on her.” Stark ejected in a stern tone, halting Svein’s attempt at rising from his seat and rushing to her side. “You finish your studies.” Stark placed his own book down and going over, he peered through the slightly ajar door. Seeing what he did, that she’d responded favorably to the latest treatment- he turned his head askew and in a hushed voice asked his nephew to fetch him some of the bouillon.  “Absolutely no solids.” he then warned, as the youth in ready response rushed off to fetch a bowl. 

Disappearing now behind the door, Stark went over to his medicine chest, procured a miniature green-gray bottle, and then carefully deposited measure of its contents into the dish that had been promptly delivered to the bedside.  “The medicine and the amount of broth should be sufficient for the night; you may put out the cooking fire and resume your studies.” he addressed the youth now respectfully standing by the door. 

Sometime later he emerged from the room with the empty bowl; when the youth looked up at him questioningly, the uncle smiled reassuringly and after discarding the dish, said, “She should be fine.  In any case, she will now sleep soundly until dawn, and that is what we should be doing as well.”  Covering his yawn with his one hand, he then added, “It has been a rather long and eventful day.  Are you nearly finished with your studies?”

 Svein indicated that they had been completed some time ago, “Good, let us then retire for the night.” and so, the two took their repose in Stark’s room, Svein using the makeshift bed.

Subsequent morning Stark could see that some normal color had returned to her pallid cheeks and that she was now in full possession of her major faculties- such as speech, taste, smell and so forth- although still bearing some inherent signs of physical weakness.  After further scrutiny, paying particular attention to her sensory reactions, he was delighted to ascertain that she’d also regained her full hand eye coordination and that her eyesight, focal vision had not suffered any lasting damage. Her prognosis looked good; expectantly in a day or two she should make full recovery from her terrible ordeal. 

Indeed, most fortunate was she, that he bore the extensive knowledge of a physician, and therefore could accurately diagnose and treat her condition. 

For now, she was confined to her bed and barring some reoccurring convulsions, was urged to get plenty of rest and even some sleep.

During the course of the day Stark planned to check in on her, as he’d done in the prior days, and see to it her condition did not reverse or deteriorate.

Unfortunately, because her constitution hadn’t been as strong as Svein’s- for the boy had also been through this type of infirmity before he’d reached the age of ten- it had taken her considerably longer period to recover from the resulting debilitating symptoms of her terrible ailment.

                                                                               ~

 In all that time, though she took comfort and was appreciative of being under Stark’s competent care, she would all the same missed interacting (communicating) with Svein. As it were, she had only seen Svein once or twice during her lengthy convalescence and that with him always remaining at the doorway, as it was not appropriate for a young man to enter a young lady’s room while she was in nightclothes and in bed. Determinedly close in age, she was curious to learn more of Svein as he was of her. As her first savior, the two had shared a certain affinity and a friendship bond. Seeing him now standing aloof and somewhat dejected by the doorway, she’d wanted to simply call out to him, but again restrained herself in compliance with their rather stringent moral considerations. Meanwhile she held onto that hopeful outlook that she would be back on her feet in no time at all.

Unfortunately, on the subsequent day her condition unrepentantly, again took a turn for the worse. Once more her head throbbed and she suffered with more frequency from the debilitating vertigo, a condition she’d tried her best to conceal from either of them, feeling she’d been far too much trouble to them already.

 But Stark was aware of her resurgent impediments: This did not bode well! Before her condition further deteriorated, however, fearing worse relapse, Stark was now inclined to implement a more drastic measure.

She could fare favorably or suffer the irreversible, grievous (grave) outcome.

His somber expression had quietly alarmed Svein; nevertheless, keeping good faith, he’d obediently followed Stark’s explicit instructions.  In the aftermath of it, decently clothed still, she was given an ice-bath at the stream by Stark. Then after a change of clothing and intake of some inhalants (of specific herbs), she was safely tucked back under the warm quilts.

Presently taking the steaming cup from Svein, Stark placed it on the small table by her bed; then after exchanging some words, Svein took his leave, while Stark returned to the corner where his medicine chest now temporarily rested.  He reached into it again, as he’d done countless of times since her arrival, to procure this time however a miniature reddish-blue colored bottle.  He removed this lid and poured a careful measure of the powdered portion into the hot water and mixed it carefully. This was a risky procedure, a slight oversight in application, a wrong dose- for it was different for each individual case- it could be quite detrimental, worst still, she could be rendered brain-dead; nevertheless, it was the only avenue left to them! When the mixture turned a murky brown color, after a silent prayer, he orally administered it to her. He gently, carefully cleaned of the unavoidable spillage from the corners of her mouth and chin, placed a readied cold compass over her forehead; then going over, he replaced the bottles and put the closed medicine chest aside. Now there was nothing else further left for him to do except to wait for the outcome.

After an uneasy night, thankfully, the dire danger had passed. Ensuing days her prognosis being good, she was well on her way to complete recovery. 

“This added concoction will further restore your vital energies, partake some and have a good rest; by this evening you may even be well enough to join us in the living quarters.” He’d followed his mumbled, hopeful words that morning with sign language that was quite explicit and remarkably clear. She’d understood every nuanced word and gladly received the cup from him. Raising it to her lips without the need of his help now, she’d drunk the entire contents in small, interrupted sips. 

The rest of the day she’d slept soundly, waking at time of dusk, her condition as predicted, quite well, almost rejuvenated. Now for the first time in a long while, she was even able to leave her room, and to the delight of Svein, even ingested some plain food and joined in with the consumption of herbal tea with them.

Without being told she’d retired early however to preserve her newly gained strength. As she would be their guest for an indefinite time barring some other unforeseen circumstances, subsequent days held an interesting set

of challenges, what with all the re-scheduling of some tasks and certain adjustments that needed still to be ironed out or put back on track, to accord her an ease in transition with their regimented lifestyle.

                                                                                   ~

That night, in the wee hours however, Stark and Svein, were suddenly awakened by a cry, a sort of muffled scream from Jiense’s room. Stark bolted from his bed, urging Svein to stay put and quickly dressing, with lighted candle in hand he went out to investigate. He found her in a terrified state shaking violently in a seated upright position in bed, with her eyes pivoted to the far corner where her dress had been neatly folded beside her outer footwear.

As Stark had come in  to the room and half turning looked to see the object that held her attention in such frightful trance, he’d witnessed firsthand the terrifying apparition of a fierce, wounded panther  with his maw opened wide in  ferocious growl that  showed his long protruding fangs dripping, oozing  with blood. It had of course disappeared instantly the very moment Stark’s eyes met the haunting, fiery pupils of the predatory beast.

Stalked by such an evil apparition, no wonder a while back her condition had suddenly taken a turn for the worse; unfortunately, anew, she was being targeted. Good thing she had regained most of her vitality in precise time to deter this new onslaught on her psyche and physical wellbeing. Stark understood well now, the (immediate) night and necessary steps he must implement, to curb or altogether avert portended disaster.

 “You saw him too; I’m not imagining it?”  Her urgent plea turned Stark’s attention back on her. In her anguished, distressed state, she’d spoken words in her native, court dialect that had been, remarkably still, perfectly comprehensible to Stark; nevertheless one, that he’d long since abandoned.   “He’s come back to devour, to finish me off!” She drew his attention once more as she’d cupped her hands and begun sobbing.

“Now, now, apparitions cannot harm you.” Putting aside his surprise, he hastened to comfort her in the same lexicon.

“First thing tomorrow I shall use all the means available to me- incantations and prayers, to expel the avenging evil spirit and furthermore, permanently purge such deleterious future intrusions.”

“No use, there’s no escaping death!” She whimpered and despite all his reassuring words, being really shaken up, she continued to tremble like a leaf. Constrained to act, he fetched an appropriate sedative and with her compliance, orally administered it. 

He’d stayed on long after she’d drifted into sound sleep (slumbered state), seated by her bedside in a thoughtful repose recounting the bizarre set of circumstances that had led to this point: The deranged panther that had forced Svein on an unscheduled hunt; her getting been bitten by the rare, deadly arachnid that in turn further weakened her spiritual resolve and allowed the vengeful apparition this loophole.

 But conceivably even before this, perhaps through the purposely planted magical attire, the evil entity had gained the scant opportunity to transcend the protective circle- trespass over the invoked spells, the ancient(antediluvian) incantations  that up until then had acted as an apt deterrent, as well, held the perimeter of their habitat, out of all harm’s way.

Moreover, what were the odds- that in her delirious state the chance disclosure of her obviously closely guarded secret be revealed to the only other person residing in a remote wilderness no less, who could comprehend it?

Pre-ordained or not, there’d been too many coincidences here for him to disregard or to dismiss.

He reflected further (squinting and shifting in his seat). The origin of her spoken dialect was an island kingdom far, far away. How did she come to be, what circumstance had cast her in this remote corner and on this mountain? The enigma must be resolved, though handled delicately.

 His attention then reverting to the supernatural (unearthly) apparel and footwear, he nodded his head with a sure thought: First and foremost, however, these should be properly discarded, preferably this very night, to prevent another infraction/ unacceptable breach by that metaphysical force.

Having so concluded, he’d decisively walked over, his mind musing over an apt incantation that would be the most effective means in disengaging the link. As he reached for the garb and footwear however, that same instant the focus of his attention in a flash both, vanished without a trace into thin air.

This new development both unsettled and irked him.

                                                                                   ~

Sometime later he’d returned to his room with his mind beset with (numerous) taxing concerns, but refused to respond to any of Svein’s queries, for he needed to first sort things out for himself; urging latter instead to show patience and go to sleep. Tomorrow, everything will be explained to him and furthermore, they would get all the answers to the questions that’d been long plaguing them, concerning Jiense or whatever her actual name may be.

 

(Galvanizing facts are revealed in the next post of The Rescue, section 5)