LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RESCUE - SECTION 6

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC 

THE RESCUE - SECTION 6

Life in the mountain dwelling was not an easy one, there was ample input to assimilate, ascertain, adapt or accomplish that before long several days had gone by (passed) without her knowing it. Teuquob had tried her best during her transition that encompassed serious adjustments and blending-in, not to step on any toes, impinge (encroach) or get in the way of their highly proficient and regimented lifestyle. Lately, however, she was beset with a certain inward irritability as she strove to do more than she had been allowed to do.

But how could she persuade Stark that she was an able and a willing participant, impatient to do her fair share of the demanding chores aside from the allocated light ones; desiring most of all to be incorporated into their jealously guarded, fundamental, core existence. That she would be a boon and not just an inconvenience, to be brushed aside or later redressed.

Her thoughts then reverting to Stark, she pondered on the subtle complexities of his nature (disposition) and unique character traits. Yes, all along she had received unbounded compassion, generosity, and human kindness from Stark and Svein. They had been morally, altruistically quite attentive, and most tolerant with all her deemed frivolous needs. But though Svein had readily accepted her presence there, she could not help feeling that despite all of Stark’s outward acquiescence and approbation, he vacillated in temperament, oftentimes being still perturbed and even annoyed (by) at this unexpected complication in their otherwise orderly lives.

She was perceptive enough to sense, that deep in his soul seemingly many secrets lay, some of which were quite painful to reminisce and that his resentment in part was due to the fact that she represented a forsaken element, a distraction in his life that he’d rather do without.

Set in his ways, at times Stark could be so strict, unbending in his principles, with exacting demands on himself and on Svein, yet other times, especially with her, he displayed unusual gentleness, versatility, patience, and sensitivity, even with her outlandish needs.

Despite his stern appearance and many unstinting commitments, she further suspected that deep within he might be harboring a certain covert longing, for the long since forlorn, abandoned, and derelict way of life. Nevertheless, he seemed bent on a secretive course, bound perhaps by some private oath, to maintain this sort of solitary existence in the wilderness, all the while protecting and educating his nephew with such urgency and burdening diligence, as if countless unfathomed lives depended on it.

Subsequent day, well before the respective lessons were to resume, seizing an opportunity in midst of a private conversation with Stark, she subtly reminded Stark how at the beginning when (whilst) she was so generously welcomed, she’d been urged to, during her stay with them, not act as a conventional guest, rather, be at ease and treat the place as if it were her very own home, and them as if they were her own kin. “Only then,” She then quoted Stark word for word, “with the cumbersome formalities dispensed, an easier atmosphere would prevail, for the benefit of all.” 

She could tell from Stark’s (taut face) stern expression that he was fast losing patience with her, nevertheless determined to take full advantage of his prior conciliatory mood, she then expressed, rather insistently, her desire to be allocated certain responsibilities and chores that were more laborious or challenging for the truly fair and harmonious running of the household.

It was deemed still too soon; but no amount of reasoning was able to alter or deter her from her aim.

Of course, she had no way of knowing that a seasoned warrior and once a strict field marshal, a supreme military commander, Stark had never tolerated insubordination or dealt with notable opposition, let alone, as in this case, blatant defiance to his logical dictates.

As it was, in Stark’s past existent lifestyle that had long since been forsaken- even as a married man he had shunned the responsibility of dealing with the mundane domestic or feminine concerns- deeming it to be most cumbersome task, inessential, recklessly profligate (wasteful) and prodigal feat.

As a result, the entire running of the household had been delegated determinedly to his competent wife while he continued to pursue his military passions.

But much had changed since then and wiser and much more tolerant now (mellowed), in face of this present dilemma and in dealing with the tender aged feminine gender, certain protocol applicable to disciplining generals, or any man for that matter, had to be revised or altered. Therefore, constrained to being gentler rather than harsh and indulgent of her superfluous requirements and conspicuous impatience, Stark simply stroked his beard, and again reiterated in a measured, even tone, “All in good time, my dear.  First, we must get you thoroughly familiarized with your surroundings, then, with your strength fully restored to you and you are more adept at surviving, we will assign you ergo, suitable duties.” It was not what he said, but rather the way he had said it.

I want no more reckless zeal and insubordination from you.

 Pitted against his iron will, Teuquob at this point, opted to embracing humility and wisely forsook persistence, as well, aborted the key arsenal of a typical female temperament that could have rendered the outcome in her favor, especially when it turned dramatic on a whim.

Appreciating her conciliatory act, Stark on his part went against his better judgment and, in polite compliance amended his prior resolve. By her yielding out of respect, the first and only near feud (dispute, conflict) between them had been averted. Afterwards, mutual respect paved the way towards a more amicable transition.

                                                                                 ~

Happily, a week had passed without any undue incidence, with Teuquob fitting into their rigorous routine with ease as though she’d been born to this harsher lifestyle. Meanwhile the ongoing generosity and kindness of both Stark and Svein, defying all description, was immeasurable.  Once, after learning that she was proficient in sewing, Stark had even readily presented her with four bolts of the finest quality silk for her own use. And, true to her claim, only a brief time later she had surprised them both, when she appeared in an exquisitely sewn new dress, and presented the two men each with a vest of their own. They were so delighted with her thoughtfulness they remained totally at a loss for words.

As it were, she performed all her allocated chores however arduous, exacting, onerous, prosaic or mundane: willingly and admirably well, her sincerity and keenness winning her in due course Stark’s trust and rare confidence. Then came a time when she felt long at last that Stark had accepted her presence in the ultimate sense and was now ready in earnest, without any reticence, to begin her integration into their core lifestyle, such as it was.

Living in harmony, at the conclusion of each day’s chores and their collective schooling on the linguistics, she would always retire to her room for some private time to use it as she wished- sometimes utilizing the time by either sawing, decorating, painting or reading; meanwhile, Svein would resume with his other mandatory, extensive studies pouring over the rare volumes, expounding the classics that included Wenjenkun and its border countries’ political and military history; breaking only when the time came for him to practice calligraphy.

Svein’s desk was situated at the far corner of the living room, besides the well-stacked bookshelves. Row upon row, these shelves all housed countless volumes of bound books and silken scrolls comprising rare calligraphy and the most splendid illustrations. Over to the side hung a framed war painting bearing the added verse (poem) of the legendary warrior and poet Marcos Gendor. On the far side of the desk stood some spare writing apparatus, all made from exquisitely carved, rare, and most precious of jades or jasper. Adjacent to that was the neatly displayed collection of finest quality feather pens and paint brushes with ebony wooden stems and bristles made from wolf, or horsehair. The specifically designed upright wooden cabinet with open compartments held in perfect safekeeping and displayed numerous rolls of fine, reusable writing silk. Indeed, such riches were unseen even in the finest of homes.

On this night, long after Teuquob had retired to her room and succumbed to a state of blissful sleep, Svein having finally concluded his requisite studies, quietly placed the book to one side then, routinely picked up the writing implements and begun grinding the ink. Subsequently, under the adequate candlelight, with a frequently dipped brush in hand, he began composing the night’s assigned exercise.

All through it Stark had not stirred, and in fact, for a lengthy period his attention had remained affixed to the contents of the book he had chosen to read.  After a while, he simply put the book aside and rose from his seat; he walked quietly over to his nephew to glance over and to assess the already completed work that had been placed to one side. Following his few constructive criticisms and some praises, he offered alternative options for the style and manner, then returning to his own seat, resumed with his reading.

Sometime later, Stark, having reached a disagreeable impasse in set hypothesis, momentarily halted his reading and simply glanced away from the pages to ponder and to postulate on the key concern, as well, to some degree rest his eyes. As he had absentmindedly looked at his nephew, he noted that Svein had also stopped his writing and was presently staring at the paper with a fond vapidity.

An aspect of displeasure at once registered on Stark’s face. “Stop your daydreaming!” He angrily admonished the youth.

“I am sorry, Uncle, I was just thinking.” Svein responded, shamefaced.

“I am well aware of the concern intruding into your thoughts,” Stark interjected, cutting short his nephew’s reply, “you have quite an abundant imagination and in all likelihood with your fractious mind, you’ve well exceeded the probably mundane past events pertaining to her; keep your focus in line, we’ll learn the truth about her soon enough.  Intriguing a dilemma as this may be, I strongly advise you to omit such profligate and refractory notions from your mind and affix your attention only on your studies.”

Stark’s last sentence was issued with an icy finality which made pursuing the matter futile. Apologetically Svein bowed his head and forced his attention back on his composition. Soon he was writing again but, contrary to appearances, his mind still strayed. Uncle is so discerning that he can even anticipate my thoughts, mused the youth.

Stark, as if he had read this thought of his nephew’s as well, looked away to conceal his resurgent smile. In fact, they had become so close that Stark could tell with impunity the concerns of his nephew well before voiced. Though they appeared conventional and most regimented in their daily interactions with each other, they in fact shared a deep affectionate bond more like that of father and son, than that of between uncle and nephew.

And besides, in his heart of hearts, Stark could not rightly blame the boy for his curiosity and impatience; nevertheless, it was left up to her to resolve this burdening enigma, and Stark had every confidence that one day in not-too-distant future, she would indulge them.

After his thorough assessment of Svein’s completed work, once more seated by the blazing fireplace, with a pensive air Stark had again turned his attention back on the pages of the bound book in his hand; but try as he might, this time he could not bend or concentrate his mind on the applicable complex theories.  Putting it aside, he retrieved his pipe and lit it; in full anticipation of a leisurely smoke, in a thoughtful repose he leaned back comfortably in his rocking chair and allowed his wayward thoughts to drift afar.

The assumption of Teuquob’s probable heritage, based on the disclosed surname, which at the time perturbed him slightly, had been reservedly put aside; but the land in question despite his reticence, yet again awakened in him the forgotten memories and a certain hankering for the precious epoch in time of long ago (gone by). As he puffed the smoke out of his long pipe, his mind defiantly (in defiance) once more had wandered back to a time when he was younger, before his marriage and long before his father’s death, to an era when he had once possessed an abandoned, uninhibited, adventurous, and unconstrained romantic soul.  Surprisingly at that moment, Stark was abruptly reminded of an exceptional being Zandar Kuntzu, a six feet tall warrior with shoulder-length, long flowing auburn hair, whom Stark had encountered (during one of his rebellious years seeking adventure in remote part of Korion), and after being rescued from dire circumstance, befriended. Young as he’d been, Stark could still discern that Zandar was not what he seemed, that he in fact had a noble, stringent upbringing, and more importantly, he was not native to Korion; moreover, despite his unassuming, placid (equable, tranquil) nature, he had a brilliant and discerning mind, as well, possessed incredible ( though hidden, immortal) prowess. 

Now why had Zandar so abruptly intruded into his mind? Stark inwardly querying, looked away. His mind refusing to let this matter drop however, Stark was then curiously, reminded about Zandar’s enigmatic (mysterious)  parting gift, a well-constructed puzzle-box, the contents of which he’d been asked to, read only after he’d left Korion, commit it to memory and then promptly destroy it.  Stark had also at the time, been gravely warned by Zandar, to never use this “EWBINUKO HEX” incantation/hex till, and only once, at future time (eventuality), when it would be the only thing that would deliver him from dire predicament. Being sentimental, Stark through all these years had kept the empty puzzle-box however, which now rested unobtrusively, on the small mantlepiece (bookshelf) in his bedroom.

 Zandar Kuntzu

Stark presently was baffled by these memories pertaining to Zandar which had forcefully intruded into his mind. Why now, and why him? Was he (Stark) just being nostalgic? Admittedly, Stark had infrequently (occasionally) wondered about Zandar, as the latter had had such an impression on him.

Stark a moment or two, meditatively (broodingly) smoked his long pipe; subsequently his thoughts reverting (returning) to Tekuob, his reminiscence furtively carried him forth, to the distant lands of Kontu, the very place Teuquob had sought to escape.

With absolute, vivid clarity, Stark saw before him once more in his mind’s eye (lifelike mental images of) the most beautiful girl, one not unlike Teuquob.  She was peering out with phoenix eyes from behind a silk screen depicting two cranes one in ready flight, the other hesitant, feet firmly set on the thick branch of an ancient, gnarled pine tree at the periphery, background landing itself to the stylized misty mountain scenery; and when their eyes surreptitiously met, he could still envision the bashful lowered glance and the fleeting enchanting smile on that exquisitely flushed face with rosy cheeks as she made haste to simply run away.  This was his first memory of her, and he could still recall every nuance, every minute detail of that delightful episode in time (moment). Once more her glorious countenance tantalizingly hovered before him sweeping him off to sweet reverie: the way she wore her hair, the colors of the ribbons and juxtaposed pearls adorning her tresses, the soft peach colored dress she wore embroidered with the most exquisitely detailed images of butterflies, and how the most charming of flowers that filled the room, vied unsuccessfully with her heavenly beauty and mien.

He was a dashing young man then, who captivated every girl’s fancy. However, as always, his principal interests lay elsewhere; in martial arts techniques armed combat, military, and political history, exploring or travel. The ever-present female gender seen as the source of fleeting fancy, an unwarranted distraction- he had never given them any serious thought that they otherwise truly deserved. Still, from the start he had felt differently towards this one. Something about her quite intrigued him and tugged at his heartstrings till he had lost his affections entirely to this enchanter, which had covertly reciprocated his love; but unfortunately, she’d been promised to another. Re-living, recalling his painful yearnings for her then, and the terrible agony that had mercilessly ripped through his heart and soul on that very day of her obligatory marriage to someone else- Stark uttered an involuntary sigh. Then, as if he had committed a forbidden, unlawful act, he stealthily (surreptitiously) glanced at his nephew.

 Fortunately, Svein was too engrossed (absorbed, rivetted) in his studies to have taken any notice; relieved, Stark leaned back and drew another long puff from his pipe. Before long Stark was lost in another such private revere, till that is, Svein had stopped his writing and looked up.

“Are you finished?” came, Stark’s quick query. Svein nodded in the affirmative. “Good. But before retiring,” Stark paused to clean his pipe then looked up with a conciliatory smile and added in measured tone, “I am presently disposed to hearing any questions you may wish to ask concerning our guest.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”  Maintaining his composure while concealing his delight at Stark’s unexpected change of heart, Svein quickly put away his brushes, ink, papers, and books, then quietly sat himself before Stark, and asked. “Pardon my presumption Uncle, but I dare venture to guess, that your extensive knowledge of her country of origin, stemmed from (was the result of) your privileged firsthand experience, an elongated visit, long before I was born. If you please therefore, I should like to learn all there is to know of her country and in addition, how and when you’d acquired and mastered the use of her altogether unique language. May I also inquire Uncle, of the brief summation of all the most recent developments in her Country of origin that had, been subtly acquired from your added private conversations with her?”

 “That is some tall order.” Stark smiled, in an unusual, good mood. “Very well, I shall satisfy (indulge) your curiosity but only in part, as I am not at liberty to divulge all. First, you are quite correct, nephew, in assessing that visage (facets) of her dialect’s extreme rarity. Perhaps I should begin by telling you a bit more about the historic and geographic aspects of Teuquob’s place of origin, a distant, island kingdom called Kontu. What you don’t know however is that their present capital, Sakuo has been in existence almost as long as ours, despite scant reference to it in our ancient (antediluvian) manuscripts (historic records). As you well know, any viable contact or commerce with this enormous island kingdom Kontu that lies due north-east from here, a landmass almost as big as our own peninsula, fortunately thus far- and I don’t see why it should be any different now- has been deterred, due to its impracticality and unfeasibility by the vast ocean, group of troublesome islands that were once and probably are today, populated by unruly savages or sea-fearing pirates, and let us not forget, the oftentimes perilous, tempestuous weather.”

“Here’s an addition to that prior info: Long ago, a state sponsored excavations had revealed that Kontu was indeed endowed with the reaches of earth beyond measure; nevertheless, it had always had its share of dangerous topography, volcanic and unstable landmass that is prone to infrequent but lethal (quite pernicious) earthquakes or tsunamis.  In part this aspect has curtailed or delayed its otherwise potent might. Still, quite adept at surviving and thriving, this ancient civilization formerly comprised of vastly diverse aggressive races with their varied, strange dialects- in the third century of their existence in an unprecedented feat, the entire country was unified under one rule, one language and one system of law, by a legendary, rather enlightened king and conqueror. Unfortunately, this feat (masterstroke) did not last for long. This great kingdom of Kontu, that was for its size, once far greater in might than ours, was nevertheless weakened within the last century or so of our time, by the ongoing internal strife between numerous contending indigenous warlords, many related, some by marriage to the subsequent reigning monarchs, each claiming legitimacy of cause and various entitlements.  This, and the constant state of war with their neighboring island states, has thus far spared our kingdom and this entire continent from the sure threat of invasion by their expeditionary forces. But I am digressing.”

“As I understand it, Teuquob for reasons known only to her, in the company of a respectable young man, “a dear friend” she’d addressed him as, therefore not a true relation, was on a ship bound (destined) for one of the subsidiary island states, when her voyage was interrupted by a terrible storm, perhaps even a monsoon, and they were thrown way off course.  After the total destruction of the ship and the countless inevitable loss of lives; miraculously surviving her ordeal- because of a remarkable act on the part of her companion friend that had presumably afterwards also perished at sea- for an undetermined time she’d drifted fastened on a create of sorts on the open waters of the vast ocean and came to be, by fate’s hand, cast, rather shipwrecked, on our shores.”

Then, addressing Svein’s subsequent question, he added, “The political situation, in place when I was in Kontu, and yes, well before you were born, according to Teuquob, persists to this date.  To reiterate, their history has been, more so than ours, documented in perpetual (incessant) bloodshed, with the warring states, feudal lords time and again vying for power and domination of the entire island; meanwhile, any diplomatic, political, military or commercial contact between their land and ours, for reasons enumerated earlier, has at best been rather limited, with fewer still competently transcending the barriers of language. Fortunately for us, I happened to be one such.”

“You see, in my youth during one of my adventurous exploits in (Tenkoz) border province, I had fortuitously encountered a brilliant scholar/warrior named Haixi Yuenen, who by some misfortune had been stranded in our country and forced to living in dire straits. He spoke both languages fluently enough to avoid detection but lacked the resources and necessary contacts to ensure safe passage back to his homeland. Forlorn and dejected he had drifted from town to town, doing odd jobs then wasting his scant earnings on drink. By fate’s hand, he came to my rescue when I was in a crisis, ambushed by the notorious group of local thugs that were aiming not only to rob, but to maim and murder me. Oh, what a sight that was! What courage… such ability! Single handedly in a flash he wasted a lot of them. Reminder ran, ran for their dear lives!”

Stark quickly checked his exuberance. “Nevertheless; I was not about to let such a man go! To my further delight, after the formal introduction to my discerning father, he gained my family’s patronage and became my tutor. Later still, outside of my regular studies, upon my insistence, he instructed me in his fighting style and, native language.  A deep bond grew between us during our time together, over and above the shared respect and admiration of teacher and pupil.

I carried mixed feelings of joy and dismay (devastation) on the day that my father, out of kindness and noting that my studies were at an end, acknowledged my esteemed teacher Haixi Yuenen’s homesickness and announced that he was providing the means for the scholar’s voyage back.” 

“Haixi had to pass through another territory, a friendly state called Loxugan, before gaining his safe passage home on a rare trading vessel.

My father’s sympathetic understanding and generosity of heart had of course earned him Haixi’s undying gratitude. The scholar journeyed back several years later with an impressive entourage and lavished many priceless gifts on our family and my father. He further extended this courtesy and invited my father and me to be his honored guests at his stately home in Kontu. This was made possible, for he had returned with a ship of his own.”

“My father could not oblige, but after much supplication on my part, he granted me the rare privilege of visiting this wondrous and mysterious land. I stayed for quite some time at my tutor’s well-fortified mansion that was strategically located in the far fringes of Kontu. He turned out to be someone of high birth that had, for reasons known only to him, renounced his rightful heritage and entitlements to live in self-imposed exile and relative obscurity. Highly thought of still, through his private network of connections, well-guarded, I spent a period in capital city at which time I gained broader perspective into their politics and returned to Wenjenkun with an abundant wealth of experience and knowledge. Once home, however, other events took precedence, which prevented me from giving Kontu its deserved reflection and thought until this day.”

As Svein listened, all these fantastic things had sent his head swimming in abundant wealth of imaginary fancies. He had not even seen the capital or other parts of his own country, yet his uncle now spoke of wondrous lands beyond the sea. A certain yearning awakened in him, a need to travel far, to broaden his horizons as well. All those places mentioned in passing, a mere footnote in his studies now gained a renewed prominence and he wished he could sprout wings and soar up to the sky, to visit them firsthand and experience it all in one go.  His heart was also flooded (filled) with added affection for his paternal grandfather, who had been nothing more than a name up until then.

So, he had been a wise and compassionate man, not unlike Stark, and therefore well deserving of his respect, undying devotion, and love.

Svein secretly longed to learn more of Stark’s elder brother, Svein’s own father, a parent he’d never known, as he’d been separated from him from birth and in surmised speculation knew only that his father had perished tragically in the aftermath of some catastrophic event; but remembering his promise not to pry or pester Stark on the subject, he kept his tongue (withheld his bursting queries), remaining grateful all the same to Stark, for painful as it was, divulging even this much of his past. Verily up until then, his uncle had been reticent to shed any light on the family’s determinedly tragic history, heritage, or the enigmatic reasons for the total annihilation of their entire clansmen.  On scant idle moments, his unbridled curiosity and imagination running rampant, Svein had oftentimes pondered on these haunting questions in private: What necessitated to date such extreme cautionary measures and constrained their continued dwelling and compulsory arduous lifestyle in this remotest part of the mountain, so far from any civilized settlement?  What kind of foe, enmity or reason was potent enough to propel Stark’s relentless, incessant grievance meanwhile enforcing the precept of keeping Svein in the dark until he reached the certain age of maturity, of twenty-five?

Presently, faced with this unexpected leeway, Svein stole a sideways glance at his uncle as he inwardly queried:  Was it possible that Stark had now a change of heart and was considering mending or even rescinding that rule? But Svein dared not ask this out loud. He did, however, finding his uncle in more (amicable) genial disposition, inquired, “Uncle, may I impose on you to enlighten me further on the most recent developments in Kontu?”

Stark simply looked away; with a slight displeasure, the beginnings of a frown registering on his face as he mused: “I know what it is you are after- but in the end, what purpose would it serve? The sought information will be of limited use to you since you’ll probably never gain the chance to go to Kontu. As it is, you will have other far more important matters to address.”  But withholding his retort, he responded coolly, in an even tone. “I am not sure that we can spare the time. Nevertheless, I will give this matter further consideration.”

This conciliatory reply was still preferable to an open rejection. Thus satisfied, Svein thanked his uncle for his understanding then, following Stark’s next suggestion, made ready to retire for the night.

That evening despite his fatigue, Svein had turned and tossed till finally heavy sleep overtook him. Even then his subconscious mind was beset with ongoing prolific dreams, all of it adventurous in nature, many events transpiring in that imaginary, faraway lands with him interacting freely with all kinds of Indigenous, interesting groups. 

Stark, contrastingly, greater part of the night had lain perfectly still on his back, with blank stare, eyes fixated, obsessively, on the ceiling overhead. He had remained thus, his heart laden with many concerns in conjunction with the countless burdensome thoughts, some of it imbued with pain and longing for those things he had long since forsaken.

                                                                                       ~

(More exciting developments will unfold in the next post of The Rescue- Section 7)  

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ORDEAL - SECTION 8

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC 

 THE ORDEAL - (SECTION 8)

Reluctantly Chenko Haken had sojourned (remained). Seated at the solitary chair by the table opposite to her being seated at the edge of her bed, he’d then slowly unfolded a short narration of his experiences that had eventually led him to the foreboding mountain:

Then one day meeting disaster and on the brink of death he’d been found by the monks scavenging for rare herbs and brought to this sanctuary. When he’d recovered from his wounds and regained his strength, he’d in time, appreciating the unsophisticated, artless, unsullied way of life here, resigned himself to being a monk for the rest of his life. He’d already taken his wows, but now seeing her again, and being assured that it was her, he’d already asked permission from divine (his holiness) Abbot Koe to be allowed to communicate with her. He’d received indefinite leave of absence from his religious duties, as he was after all under prior obligation, having sworn to protect and serve her to his dying day. As she was not suited to this austere life and having anticipated her inner wish, he would therefore depart with her when the time was ripe and when she had regained her full strength.

She was overjoyed at finding him safe and sound, and reluctantly admitted that he was right. This lifestyle, however interesting was still too restrictive. Having fulfilled her obligations to her mother’s soul already, she was now at liberty, confident of his protection; to see the rest of the world and experience all that life had to offer.

Curiously enough, all thought of Mokak had escaped her mind. Reminded of that later still, she had told Chenko Haken at length of her experiences with him; as well, her certain unease of Mokak. But as Mokak was already in recluse and therefore could not be reached; the two decided on postponing dealing with that subject at later time. One thing was certain, despite her innate feelings, as she owed Mokak a debt of gratitude for looking after her all this time, she could not simply up and leave Mokak without an appropriate explanation and fond farewells.

Subsequently, in the privacy of her chambers, they had talked endlessly night after night, this, so as not to disturb or distract the peaceful religious cohabitants of the place. They laughed and jested, having a lot of fun reminiscing, toying or in earnest drawing up plans for the promising future. In time all social barriers melting away- for Chenko Haken needed to be convinced- they had become quite close, almost inseparable. It was then that one night; he’d timidly and so endearingly confessed his secret undying love for her and begged her for an embrace or another tender kiss. In her emotional state she’d succumbed to this desire but withdrew quickly when he wanted more. She felt and said as much, that it would be most inappropriate, refusing to defile the sanctity of this holy place with such base human urges. Chenko Haken was of different opinion and with his persuasive argument, he almost won her over. Almost, but not quite! She did not know why, but she felt there was something different, a different sensation about the esteemed young man she’d once so fondly upheld (considered).  And so, in the end he’d left the premise in a dejected mood, looking so injurious and hurt to the core.

He remained absent for a couple of days and in her reluctance, however hard she’d searched, no one knew his whereabouts.

Had he left the sanctuary? She was contemplating going to the Abbot with this concern, but dared not disturb the pious priest with her personal affairs. 

Then quite unexpectedly one night, in small hours she’d been startled from her sleep (stupor) and found Chenko Haken standing with a thoughtful gaze, right over her. Having snuck into her private quarters in the dead of night, distraught Chenko Haken falling on his knees, had then begged her to release him from his torment, this eternal, damnable, and searing pain! He’d tried so hard, he wanted to do the right thing, even vowed to Heaven to uphold her chastity, but he was at the mercy of his accursed passionate yearnings. Clutching her hands and looking searchingly into her eyes, he’d whimpered his earnest request (please) to be allowed to show her the depth of his affections, since once they’d found a suitable place to stay, they’d be eventually committing themselves in matrimony anyhow. Unless, she’d had a change of heart now and wanted no part of him. If so, to speak to him bluntly to his face and not cruelly tantalize him. He would go away forever from her life and never darken her doorstep, if that was her will.

In her heart of hearts Teuquob did have true affections for Chenko Haken, she had been attracted to him from the start; of late missing him terribly, she had even entertained the notion of matrimonial union with him in some future date, when they were finally settled down in some quiet corner of this world. She wanted him in her life indefinitely, she could think of no one else more suited than him in making her happy and told him as much.

He was overjoyed and hugged her intently. Unfortunately, their tender make-up kisses, again leading him astray, he became too passionate and with the red-hot blood coursing through his veins, he again strove to take certain liberties. He implored her to quench his yearning, to just this once, ease his torment, by the simple, pure act of uniting with him in body. But despite her loving, compassionate heart, her morality again stood in the way of her compliance. She was sorry but it did not feel right. As fond as she was of him, she was reluctant to bending the rules. Besides, in this religious sanctuary, such an act could be construed as sacrilege; how could he, a virtuous, upstanding, irreproachable young man that she knew him to be, would even consider such a disdainful thing? She worried about offending the chaste Abbot Koe that had been so kind to them both.

His persistent appeals had the opposite effect on Teuquob, as she now doubted the integrity of the young man she’d once held in such high regards. Frustratingly still after Chenko Haken’s angry departure, when she’d finally laid her head in exhaustive, fitful sleep, she’d dreamt of Yoansu’s forceful almost brutal advances on her as he tried time and again, to seduce her. Chenko Haken had kept his distance from then on, but subsequent nights, this nightmare, punishment of sorts, had (returned) been repeated; each time however just before the initial act of rape, she would wake up with a start, all drenched in sweat. Though she needed some spiritual counseling, she could not bring herself to broach this delicate, private concern with resident unsullied monks or the ever-devout Abbot Koe. Soon the sleepless nights had worn her out; constantly subjected to this type of harassment, she became erratic in speech and easily destructed or frightened.

Thankfully however, when Mokak came out of his period of seclusion (absolution), learning of her troubles he’d actively sought out Chenko Haken to confront him. But by then, regretful and shamed, Chenko Haken had cowardly (vanished,) sought to disappear from the sanctuary-without taking his proper leave of the Abbot or her. 

Mokak meanwhile, now a changed man, had provided her with the sound logical explanations for her persistent nightmares, till it had altogether ceased.

 Born out of this pain, however, there had come about an unexpected consequence despite all outward appearances. Bit by bit overriding the prior optimisms, she’d become a hard-core pessimist. Her character had evolved but not in the entirely boon (beneficial, blessed) direction; now being more expectant of all variants, deviant acts of humanity.  Mokak paid no credence to these modifications appearing seemingly impervious to these conversions in her. He outwardly acted and behaved much in the same congenial, attentive way as her protective companion. Gradually hence, he’d won her gratitude and deep affections, becoming a most valued friend, when he’d with sensitivity and patience mended the deep wounds and disappointments (marred) etched by Chenko Haken’s despicable acts of infidelity.

Before long, his good demeanor, handsome, rugged looks coupled with virtuous, heroic feats had furthermore elevated him to a most venerable standing.  

Gradually she deemed him most appealing and more irresistible; aside from the fact that is, his mounting possessiveness. That always set her heart in irrevocable fright, acting as the only sobering tonic that on the point of surrender invoked that good old sensibility in her.

Meanwhile, inadvertently Mokak’s own well-crafted trap had ensnared him. He became aware too late of the curious, intoxicating sensation of lust, the binding affection for her.

In truth, he detested and despised all humans with their deemed obvious shortcomings. Mankind was far inferior to an entity. Yet since his transference into this mortal form he’d experienced many unexpected boons.

Consequently, as the intensity of his desires (yearning) mounted, the slow progress, her stubborn resistance, her inner strength had long ceased to be a challenge and had gradually begun to even grade on his nerves. The resurgence of doubt and her mounting suspicion at the point of conquest, the endless questionnaires had eventually brought him to the brink of rebellion. She was after all, expandable. He’d invested, fruitlessly, far too much time on her.

And when on that day, quite unexpectedly, she’d confided in him her inner desire to now become a nun…. Well, that did it!

Application of force therefore now became an option, if not a desired, apex course of retribution at this crucial juncture (point in time).

So be it. He would wait no longer! He would have his way with her, then move on to find another, perhaps less resistant prey.

He burst into her room, startling her from her deep sleep into a seating position. The savage, ravenous looks of his eyes liken to that of a predator frightened her.

He was about to show his hand, by pouncing on her, expose his true, feral nature when suddenly a violent gust and a dreadful seismic tremble knocked him flat off his feet. That very instant the sanctuary ceased to exist. Cast into open space, the air and the entire mountain became deathly still.

Mokak with a grumble picked himself off the floor and dusted his clothes, in a desperate attempt to arrest his resurgent dread. With a forlorn, dejected (sunken) heart he then glanced at the frozen figure of Teuquob.

Well, what’s he waiting for? Let’s have fire and brimstone!

“You dare be so brazen?” Suddenly a fierce being with fiery hair, appearing out of thin air, let out a great big angry roar.

Mokak did his best to keep his balance as the earth violently trembled beneath his feet. “Go on be done with it!” He hissed his defiance. “It was still well worth it.”

“You’ll change your tune, by the time I’m through with you!” The immortal barked.

This sent icy chills and rippling shivers down Mokak’s spine. Despite his resolve, he became acutely aware of his heart palpitating wildly with fright.

He’s evolving much too quickly! The immortal was both surprised and amused. “You’ve given me quite a chase,” his stern voice again threatened Mokak. “I shall hence take stronger measures to curtail your wayward wondering! Blundering fool, did you ever once, consider the ramifications of your action? By your reckless transgression, you very nearly altered her destiny, and on this sanctified mountain too! For that infraction alone you should be punished most severely!”

And this is coming from a renegade immortal; oh, I’m shaking with fear!  Mokak, getting a grip on his terror (fright), in a last-ditch effort tried to transform himself to escape his inevitable, abhorred fate; but a great big hand reached forward (extended far) to grip him by the back of the neck.

“Forgive me master!” He clamored to say, now with his feet dangling in the air. “But I had good reasons for my breach…”

“Yes, I know too well your reasons. Save your breath disobedient wretch, for this time you’ve gone too far!” The (earth shaking) thundering, angry tone reverberated all the way up to Heavens.

The immortal had simply pointed his index finger at him, the incantation now evoked, Mokak’s cringed and distorted shrunken figure instantly got sucked into the crystal amulet that immortal was holding. Mokak was now imprisoned indefinitely. 

The (verbal) ritual recitation of a spell manifested (produced) a charmed chain out of the thin air, that of which the immortal carefully treaded the top part of the amulet.

“Let’s see you escape this.” With a wry grimace the immortal quietly then placed the fastened amulet around his neck. With an undecipherable mumble on his lips, his outstretched index finger pointed at the sky overhead brandished a curious diagram in the air. Just as it dissipated, the gathering flotilla of clouds on the spot shrouded the Mountain and Earth in pitch darkness. After a momentary lapse it had dissipated, allowing anew the life-giving light to once more grace the Earth.

All became as before, with two exceptions; however, Teuquob had been allowed to keep the phantom clothing and two, Teuquob’s memory had suffered a purposeful lapse on the existence of Mokak.  His entire existence now permanently erased from her memory; she’d become somewhat disquieted in heart, when she’d suddenly found herself amidst the thick foliage of an apparent mountain, with no mount. Try as she might, she could not account for the unfamiliar but quite comfortable outfit and footwear, the missing facts of her apparent ordeal or even recollect the memory of how she’d got there. Furthermore, without the mount she felt far more vulnerable and ever lonesome. Fear gripped her heart in a vice as her gaze perused the treacherous (hazardous) surroundings.

How can she be expected to survive the prevalent dangers? Clearly, now more than ever, her future hung in the balance and looked most bleak. Still, who can accurately predict the mysterious ways of fate?”  With this line of reasoning, she picked up her courage anew, and guided only by her intuition, she willed her legs to go on.

                                                                                   ~

       (THE RIVETING ADVENTURE CONTINUES: STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT MESMERIC  POST - THE RESCUE ) 

 

 

Eyes Wide Open

Eyes Wide Open

Many cultures throughout history have held similar beliefs that eyes, particularly the pupils, are “windows to the soul”. Here’s an original, fictional story that incorporates this particular insight. 

Eyes Wide Open

Orphaned at the age of three Tuan Yong was brought up by his paternal uncle Tuan Gang who had begrudgingly taken him in. 

 

His uncle Gang had an only son Tuan Min who happened to be six months older than Yong. Min had two elder half-sisters but, being the only male offspring, was terribly fawned upon and spoiled from birth. 

 

A special tutor was engaged to educate both children but with a particular onus to give the most attention and care to Min. Yong was pretty much left to his own devices to learn whatever he can. However Yong had the propensity to develop into a fine, intelligent, young man with high moral fibre. Gifted with many exceptional abilities, generous to a fault in nature, as well as, possessing a rather statuesque, handsome physique, Yong had, in every imaginable way, far surpassed Min. To the further consternation of his uncle Gang, Yong also possessed added brilliance and aptitude with the literary and the fine arts. By simply tapping into his vast reserves of imagination on top of his natural keen insight into nature, Yong would produce with the least effort dazzling masterpieces in a flash. He was therefore popular and held increasingly so in high regard by all his peers. 

In contrast, Min, despite his efforts and many inherited advantages, could never measure up, always falling short in any social or academic endeavor. What’s more, as upstanding as Yong was in character and ability, Min was the opposite. But instead of acknowledging his inferiority, Min remained falsely confident, vain and cruel. 

 

Wishing to advance his only son Min, Gang chose to be perpetually blinded to all his shortcomings. He refused to acknowledge the blatant facts when Min took full credit for Yong’s exemplary deeds and academic accolades. Most often Yong was also unfairly blamed and punished for many of Min’s loathsome acts. Moreover poor Yong would be severely reprimanded at each instance for his supposed failing to protect and deter Min from his nasty endeavors and his increasingly coarse, scandalous ways. 

As they grew up, to the added consternation of Gang, his son Min had become progressively wicked and licentious, warranting more additional funds and force to suppress the resulting damage. To make matters worse Min had become a compulsive gambler and a womanizer. His idle ways led him to spend most of his time in unsavory places doing many abhorrent things. All of which of course was covered up with a certain pressure and occasional bribery; even though this greatly sapped Gang’s coffers. 

Then came a day when Min committed an unpardonable crime; one that could not be so easily swept under the rug for any amount of finagling, threat or money. The situation was dire and something extreme needed to resolve it. 

 

In a private conference Uncle Tuan Gang spoke his mind after laying the blame squirrely on Yong’s shoulders. “You should have been more insistent in your reasoning with Min and strove harder, been more persistent in order to prevent this catastrophic event. As it is, the authorities will be wizened to it by morning and will be coming to make an arrest!"

Finally, after all that ranting and raving, with his fury spent, Gang sat down and in a hissing voice added, “There might be, however, one last recourse left. That is, if you, Tuan Yong are willing to face this probable peril. “Looking down he mumbled, “And considering all that I’ve done for you, you owe me, at least this one favor!"

Yong ‘s life by any means had not been an easy one, still he felt he owed his Uncle a debt of gratitude for his upbringing, education and shelter for all these years. He therefore had little choice but to accede to this unfair demand and shoulder the full blame for Min’s crime.

“I’m not an entirely unreasonable man however, “His uncle hemmed and hawed. “That is why I’ve facilitated your escape. The authorities will look the other way till morning. This letter will give you the proper introductions to my friend Fan Wei who owes me a favor. He lives in the Sekor district in Dara province. The journey will be hard on you I dare say, as it crosses much hostile territory and is close to the border, a far, far place from here. He will take you in all right; he owes me and he can use you in his employ till such a time that this thing blows over. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Of course Uncle,” Yong fell on his knees, “I’m forever indebted to you for your mercy.” What other response could Yong give? 

Shortly after leaving all that he had known behind, armed with a letter, Yong made good his escape under cover of night.

His arduous trek eventually took him to the foothills of a great mountain range. Looking up, he observed the snow cowered peaks and just below that the expansive span of dense forest stretching as far as the eye could see. Subsequently, his desperate gaze searched for accessible paths. He knew that crossing these mountains will be the last leg of his journey. From then on a far easier topography but harsher climate still awaited him. His provisions for sustenance were nearly exhausted, save for a small portion of dried bread and moldy cheese. Meanwhile though his foot-gear was threadbare he would still persevere, he was sure of it. He was only armed with a staff and a short knife for protection; fortunately though he had been spared from encounters with bandits or carnivorous beasts. 

The snaking, narrow, rocky mountain paths with a sheer precipice on one side, led him ever upward for many a day, then one fine afternoon he found himself at the maw of a huge cave. As the weather looked rather ominous, he entered the cave to seek shelter for the night. 

 

With intermixed trepidation and eagerness in his heart, his feet carried him further and further in. As it was still daylight, he took advantage of the scant light streaming in. Eventually he arrived at a large opening, a huge chamber bathed in plenty of light. Up ahead, his eyes beheld the source; an unexpected huge opening that looked out onto a distant forested mountain. Incredibly a person clad in strange priestly garments was seated at a bench table, brush in hand, quite engaged in painting on a silk cloth. Unable to believe his eyes, he tentatively advanced until he was right behind the seated stranger. Leaning over he observed a most remarkable painting. It depicted the scene outside of the opening so perfectly, so lifelike. An exclamation escaped Yong’s lips as he marveled at the artistry. 

He took hold of his senses however and pulled back; then quickly apologized, “Please excuse me for this intrusion, but what an amazing ....” He’d suddenly found himself lost for words.

The stranger had at first remained perfectly still and quite unperturbed. Presently he half turned to glance at Yong. 

At once Yong bowed to the stranger who had by then risen to his feet and squarely faced him. After his repeated apology for his infringement of the painter’s privacy, Yong formally introduced himself, and then exclaimed his deep admiration of the painting in progress. He rambled on without intending to for several minutes. A profusion of words and concepts mainly extrapolating on the points of the painting he admired streamed from his mouth; followed by other historical references and artists relating to the style and subject of the painting.

“You seem quite knowledgeable of the arts” the stranger, who’d listened with unusual patience, finally smiled. He then introduced himself as Liong Xiá and further inquired, “But what is this person Zhang Shen Yao you’ve made mention of? I am not familiar with that person. “

Yong could hardly believe his ears, “Surely you jest, sir?” He politely smiled. “He is a legendary artist, known far and wide in the realm."

 

But the stranger simply shook his head. In the ensuing silence, Yong was obliged to offer more explanations; and so, he succinctly told the account of the story of Zhang Seng Yao’s painting of Dragons:

He was a famous painter, during Wei-Jin the South and North Dynasties who excelled in painting animals, birds and particularly dragons.

According to legend, the Emperor had ordered him to paint dragons on the wall of AnLe temple. After he drew four dragons, Zhang invited the emperor to take a look.

“But the work is incomplete! “The emperor was displeased, having at once noted that the dragons were drawn without the pupils. 

“The absence of the pupils is purposeful, “Zhang quickly explained, “as they are the essence of the dragons. To do otherwise would bring the creatures to life and usher in unwarranted consequences.”

The emperor, thinking this to be a high exaggeration of an egotistical artist, demanded Zhang complete his work. Zhang Shen Yao was therefore forced to do as he was bid. No sooner did he complete the eyes of two of the dragons, lightening flashed and thunders roared. There was a strange mist that filled the air and in that chaos the two mighty dragons emerged through the mist. In a flash they dashed through the cave’s ceiling to instantly disappear without a trace into the sky. When the smoke and mist cleared, the emperor saw that only two dragons remained on the wall.

“Quite an interesting account” Xiá nodded at the conclusion of Yong’s retelling of the story. You have a flare with words, sir that enlivens the scene. Thank you for that. 

 

“Nevertheless, “Yong added thoughtfully. “ As enduring as this legend is, and there are even supposed to be documented historical accounts of its validity in the Royal Library. Now that I’ve said it out loud.... “Yong shrugged, doubting his original firm belief. “Perhaps it’s nothing more than a high exaggeration to beguile or entertain the masses.”

“Who’s to say” Xia shrugged. “Then again...” He picked up and unrolled one of the scrolls then spread it across the table. 

 

Yong was amazed at the lifelike painting of a bird... But what’s this? There were no pupils.

He looked up at Xie questioningly. 

Xiá smiled, “Would you like to know?”

“Yes,” Yong eagerly nodded.

At which point Xie took a brush, dipped the tip in ink and simply painted in the pupils. 

No sooner had he done that then, to the amazement of Yong, the bird blinked, his feathers ruffled, and then instantaneously came to life and simply flew away, escaping through the wide opening of the cave. 

Yong knew at once that this was no ordinary mortal. But his thoughts suddenly, for some reason, turned instead to the letter in his inner pocket.

“What’s this? “But then, when he reached for it, he discovered that it was missing. Had he dropped it along the way? 

Yong, looking up and saw the very letter with its seal intact in the hands of Xiá.

“Are you looking for this? “ Xia looked grim as he glanced at the letter. Then suddenly he fixed his eyes on Jiang and asked, “You’ve never once had the temptation to open it to see what’s inside?”

“Of course not! It was not addressed to me.” Yong gave his frank response.

”Then again, this once, perhaps you should have.” Xia pursed his lips.

Yong understood at once the peril that awaited him at the end of his journey. After all his survival would have been a bane to Gang with so much at stake. It saddened Yong however that his Uncle had so little regard for him. Then again, perhaps his Uncle’s love for his son was far greater.

Having decided quickly he knelt before Liong Xiá . He then pleaded to be his pupil. 

Xiá smiled and nodded. Then he held out the letter which disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The End.