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)

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RESCUE - SECTION 2

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE RESCUE - SECTION 2

A small game was roasting over the fire when she suddenly came to.

Having regained consciousness and suddenly recollecting the panther, she bolted to a seating position with a start. Her terrified, baffled gaze however, was met with a mitigating, polite smile from a decisively handsome young man who proceeded to speak to her in a soothing, foreign tongue that she did not, could not truly comprehend. His dialect, the enunciations was even varied from that of Kaimu, his wife Ensa, neighbor Zianko or the son Yoansu’s. One thing was clear however the danger/the otherwise certain death from the beast was gone, and the intensions of her presumed rescuer, as far as she could tell with some measure of certainty, were both honorable and good. He conducted himself with proper decorum and seemed to be both knowledgeable and one of fine breeding. Anticipating her thirst, he had quickly provided her with water from a wooden cup, which she partook appreciatively.

 Hoping that he might be acquainted with her native language, presently she voiced her appreciation for the rescue and for his taking such diligent care of her. Then at a loss what else to say and just then noting his quiver full of arrows laid at the side, quickly asked how he happened to be on this God-forsaken Mountain: was he sporting a hunt?

But her articulated responses were sadly, quite mystifying (baffling) to the young man. In the end, the frustrating exertion made more difficult by the mutual attraction, all they had managed were the polite but succinct introductions: her choosing to announce Jiense as her name to this amicable stranger, and he in turn had mentioned the name Svein. The ensued awkward moment of silence nevertheless was cut short, when Svein noting that the meat was about ready, forwent the wearisome communication and going over, and using his long knife skillfully, sliced off some choice pieces from the main body of the skewered meat, placed them onto wooden slat that served as a plate and brought it over to her for her consumption.

“It’s probably not what you are used to, but please partake some.”   He insisted; suspecting they would have a better luck at the verbal exchange on fuller stomachs.

As Jiense was already famished she accepted it gratefully and without ceremony, soon after chewing, swallowing the delicious, succulent meat, not pausing even to ask, or bothering to guess at what manner of specious she was ingesting.

In the aftermath, warmed by the raging fire, and well fed, using a sign language, she had again thanked him profusely for rescuing her from the maw of the panther- this time more at ease, she utilized her innate skills and therefore more effectively transmitted her intent. Then fell silent wondering what had happened to the beast, worst still, what other prevalent dangers lay ahead?

Deciphering her concerns, by means of sign language and hand gestures he hastened to convey to her that he was both a competent and a willing protector and would most certainly deliver her to safety. His reassuring smile was reciprocated, by a grateful one from her. Then all at once both gone bashful, they had averted (lowered) their eyes. That night she had slept blissfully sound, content to be under his care- for even though she had known him for scant period (such a short while), listening to her intuitive heart, she had placed her implicit trust in him and thereon felt more hopeful for the future.

The subsequent day’s journey, hard as it was, it could be said that it was delightfully exhilarating and even adventurous. When she became tired, he offered, insisted on carrying her and that he did, with certain ease, covering great distances despite the steep ascent- all the while effectively shielding or periodically fending off the all-pervasive treats from predatory animals with astounding regularity in speed and skill in archery. Furthermore, at sundown, when they halted, in contrast to her, he showed no fatigue.

If she marveled at his resilient stamina, his competence, his handsome features or many other fantastically intrinsic (inherent) attributes, she kept them to herself noting (observing) his strange but true, humble nature and bashfulness.

Meanwhile, as he had been encumbered because of her needs of shelter and sustenance and his other charge, of hunting for game along the way- it had taken them additional five- or six-day’s arduous journey, instead of two, to reach their goal.

Their subsequent path took them right through a precarious topography of high ridges, then a dense forest, each leg of the journey being more arduous than the rest. Then at one point, Svein carefully pushed aside the thick foliage that successfully hid an entrance to a deep cavern.

Before they proceeded to inside Svein halting and then withdrawing from his pouch two sun-dried shoots (buds), handed these to Jiense and signaled for to chew to extract their juice. The juice she can swallow, but the pulp, she was made-to-understand, she should spit it out. She did, as she was, told. The taste, a bit unpleasant, was both bittersweet and sour at the same time. Then, as she chewed, a strange sort of sensation came over her. Her head became dazed; she felt a total lack of inhibition, no fear, as though she was now invincible. Svein, seeing the transformation in her, smiled and politely ushered Jiense (Teuquob) into the cavern. Further in, to (manage) cope with the pitch darkness, Teuquob hung on tightly to the young man’s sleeve as latter led the way, navigating the turns and twists of the rocky, unstable, and dangerous terrain with sure footing. Periodically, there would be certain hair-raising echoes borne out of the deep that (despite the effectiveness of the drug) still put her soul in fright; though invisible to her, she still perceived the existence of chasms, noted the divergent sounds of water, some gushing streams, or trickling brooks far in distance or quite near. Then came the fluttering of wings, bats, and many other such phantom sounds along the way, which unleashed her wildest imagination and sent icy chills up her spine, all the while gripping her heart in an inexplicable fear. At such times, sensing her trepidation, he would abruptly stop and seek out her hand, then gently squeeze it with encouragement.

Since entering the cavern, he had not uttered a single word and when once she coughed supposedly to clear her throat from the perceived dust, rather, to get his attention, he’d quickly hushed her by placing his hand over her mouth, as if peril would arise from such action. Thinking that he needed his hearing to guide his advance- better that, than thinking there were carnivorous, nocturnal winged vertebrates or other such scary beast in readiness to pounce on them- she had remained silent from there on.

They had advanced blindly for what it seemed to Jiense (Teuquob) an eternity, with her imagination playing havoc all the while on the summation of all her fears. Halting briefly once or twice they had eaten dry rations which he had on him, and then continued in this dangerous realm. She was relieved when long at last they reached the end of this elongated subterranean tunnel, safest one amongst the perilous two, that (presumably) cut across underneath the majestic mountain peak, and finally exited the cavern. Thought it was typically the late afternoon of an overcast day, it still took a while for her eyes to adjust to the light that greeted them.

After a brief respite, they resumed their journey that led them to the crossing of a stream then another perilous ridge. Then they trudged upwards yet another steep climb, Teuquob in tow of the young man following an invisible goat’s path and whenever the path widened, she would opt to walking alongside him, all the while trying her best keep up. The perpetual increase in topographic elevation however, eventually caused Teuquob to more frequently labor for breath and to succumb to the inescapable fatigue that plagued her every fiber of her being. This impediment forced her resilient companion hence, to periodically make unscheduled stops or simply carry her- an added encumbrance on top of by then accumulated ponderous load- the bounty of game.

On the morning of the sixth day, they had another, endless, laborious ascent. Having traversed yet another ridge, they dove into denser part of the limitless forest and after cutting across a heavy curtain of thick foliage they quite suddenly emerged into a clearing.

Disbelieving her eyes, Teuquob rubbed them and looked on. The unbelievable scene that greeted Teuquob, which she now took in with a breathtaking zeal, encompassed a phantasmal picture that defied all-norm- a safe habitat existing in such remote wilderness?

True enough, there up ahead in that well-tended open space stood an encased structure that contained within its vicinity: a sturdily built wooden cabin with a thin coiling smoke emanating from the tall chimney at its rooftop; off to one side was a modest stable; then a structure of a storehouse could be seen, and yonder still, a smaller hut that clearly served as an outhouse.  A small patch of encircled ground adjacent to the hut was reserved for a thriving vegetable or an herbal garden.

At the dominating structure that boasted of a covered platform/ a small porch by the entrance, there could be seen a seated elderly gentleman with a well-groomed shoulder-length mahogany brown hair. He had a streak of white hair off his temples that gave him a dignified air; he sported a very becoming thin mustache and a neatly trimmed short beard that further complimented the handsome features of his face. His judicious, prudent manner and noble bearing commanded from any onlooker most profound awe and respect; furthermore, to Jiense’s (Teuquob’s) eyes, with his fine, stalwart physique, he resembled more a general, a commander in chief pondering on or contemplating some strategic warfare, than a mere recluse. Dressed in exquisite damask attire (garb), he appeared to be enjoying a pensive smoke from a long carved ivory pipe, which he held in his left hand.

The very moment that Svein and his companion had come into view, the esteemed man’s eyes discreetly meeting Svein’s, it could be said that a glimmer of both delight and concern had registered in those stern pupils, but still he had not stirred from his seat.

The youth presently gave an encouraging look to Jiense (Teuquob) as if to say please advance with me, then quickened his pace to reach the steps of the small porch. As they made their advance, upon closer scrutiny she noted that the end of the long sleeve, of his immobile right arm, going through the overgarment’s side slit, was neatly tucked in under a silk belt at the waist.

Svein having quickly unburdened himself of the loads, he now squarely faced his elder, gave a respectful half-bow, and said in a fond, reverent tone, “Greetings, Uncle, I hope you have been well in my absence.”

The elderly gentlemen’s lips dawned a shadow of wry grin- a slight curving of the ends; he thoughtfully took another puff from his pipe then rose from his seat and facing the youth, in a clear intonation reciprocated latter’s affection with a nod of his head, “Greetings, Nephew. Thank you for your regard. The length of your absence had given me a pause for concern, till that is; my ears tracked (detected) you and your willing accompaniment’s slow advance.”     The manner of his voice tad stern and reproachful, his eyes had surreptitiously now trailed onto her.

“Forgive me, uncle”, the youth hastened to explain, “for my negligence in failing to show proper respect.” In reference to the girl beside him, he then quickly added. “I would have made the proper introductions right away; however, as I’m encumbered by the inability of properly communicating with her in her strange dialect, I’d hesitated.”

“I see,” the uncle looked away. “Though I am sure you had a particularly good reason for bringing her along. Later perhaps you may elaborate on the details of how you came by her?”  With a thoughtful air he then placed his long pipe on the small table and descended the few steps. Coming forward to proximity, he succinctly, but astutely studied the extraordinary girl draped in fineries that were inappropriate for surviving in the woods. Yet his polite, brief perusal, (observation) had revealed, that other than few cuts and minor bruises on her face and hands, there were no other wear and tear on either the fabric that looked to be damask silk or her footwear. The total absence of normal dirt or the least amount of dust on her garments further intrigued him.

STARK

Discerning his uncle’s thoughts, the young man nodded. “I have been baffled by that too uncle; clearly her attire bespeaks of supernatural element. Yet she is, and all during, behaved every bit a mortal being.”

“Does this mortal-being have a name?” The uncle then asked in a voice devoid of any emotion.

“Begging your pardon uncle, but as far as I can tell, she is called Jiense. Yet her spoken dialect had born little, if any semblance to the mainstream or any other Indigenous groups in Wenjenkun. At the beginning of our meeting, we have strived, but in vain, at any sort of linguistic communication…” The uncle’s raised hand had at once silenced the youth (cut short the babbling/inconsequential chatter).

” Hmm…And there is quite a variety of indigenous groups within and bordering states of Wenjenkun; hence, this mystery may not be resolved in the briefest time”. The uncle looking away had mused.

 “I presume you’ve hence communicated by way of sign language?”

The youth nodded in the affirmative.

Hearing her adopted name meanwhile, Jiense (Teuquob) had smiled and raising her head and meeting the old man’s keen eyes now, nodded to him in greeting timidly, then respectfully pronounced her name, Jiense. She had gone along with that name, as she felt in this strange continent it would not bestir suspicion that her true name would.

He reciprocated in kind, by announcing his name to her in a congenial, clear mode. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance Jiense with no last name. As we are extant (living, existent) in this wilderness, I shall dispense with my proper last name Therran and in kind, you may refer to me as simply, Stark.” He had pointed to his chest and enunciated the name again: “Stark.”

Understanding, she had uttered his name with due reverence and bowed again in proper greeting.

He in turn nodded then smiled, acknowledging her polite attempt.

“She is clearly one of fine breeding, which makes it more a conundrum.”

“She will be allowed to stay with us for a while, won’t she Uncle, if not indefinitely?” Svein in his impatience could not stay his tongue.

“You are getting on ahead of yourself as usual,” Stark frowned. “We shall see, meanwhile it would be prudent of us to proceed with caution while taking the necessary progression,” then as if still pondering on the unusual circumstance, he added quietly to himself, “yes best to proceed one step at a time...A seemingly delicate, solitary being of high caliber surviving in the wilderness, hmm!”

 “Deducing from your omitted facts, I assume that you’d not encountered any other being, a guardian, a guide, serving companions or such, dead or alive, within that vicinity!” He paused again to thoughtfully stroke his beard. “Nevertheless, it’s quite rude of us to speak of her, however improbable the ready communication, as though she is not here.” Snapping out of it, he gave a polite nod and simply smiled at her then turned to address Svein. “For the time being at least, please take her to your prior room and allow her to wash up and attain some rest.” 

Noting the emphasis on the word “prior,” Svein smiled and readily acquiesced; for it was only proper that from hence he would be sharing his uncle’s room.      

Turning to squarely face Jiense, Svein signaled for her to follow him; the two then took their leave of the uncle and with Jiense in tow, quickly climbed the steps, disappearing inside the cabin. Opening the far door to the right, Svein ushered the young lady in to a small room that contained sparse, nevertheless elegantly crafted fine-wood furnishings, strategically placed few art objects of rare, intrinsic beauty and ornate, clearly unused bedpan with a lid jutting underneath the only night table.

Her glance (perusing) trailing onto the bed with exquisitely embroidered, immaculately clean silk comforter, had inadvertently lingered. This is a quaint, eccentric luxury to find in a rustic cabin in the woods. She mused. They were not what they seemed.

A polite caught (a clearing of a throat) just then from her companion drew her attention to Svein.

The young man smiling bashfully with a hand gesture indicated to her instead the porcelain wash basin and jar filled with water that was on an antique chest, hanging nearby was the pristine white towel.

Without the use of language, he as much told her to make herself comfortable, but first she may wish to refresh herself by washing her hands and face. This room will be hers from here on; to rest a while and if anything was not to her liking, she was at liberty to amend or discard it.

Svein subsequently going over to the far side, he hastily fetched the small exquisitely carved mahogany and leather hand baggage that had contained his personal spare belongings and private garments. Opening it, he picked up the few others that were neatly folded in a drawer of a dresser to add to it (bureau), collected few hanging by the makeshift cupboard and, after politely nodding his head, quickly withdrew from the room, allowing her the privacy to adjust to her new surroundings.

Svein returned shortly after however, with a tray of tidbits, in case she required nourishment. Supper, owing to the work ahead, could be long time in coming.

Jiense (Teuquob) smiled at Svein fondly- inwardly she was frustrated by her inability to communicate the extent of her gratitude and yet same time, remained absolutely touched by the gentle concern he showed for her welfare.

                                                                                             ~

Svein had no trouble settling in his uncle’s room; once everything was neatly placed, he went outside and begun helping his uncle, who’d already, had a change of clothing, to safely preserve and store the abundant game (the meat) in the smoke house for their future use. They in silence worked quickly and methodically, first by skinning, then gutting and collecting in a special clay pot the entire contents of the innards of each game.

After a brief “Ceremony of Fire,” where invocations/certain prayers were said and the contents turned to ashes were buried deep in the ground, they then carefully washed the reminder carcasses, salted each and hung them over a smoldering fire, smoke, in the shed to dry. Ceremony of Fire was an integral part of the preparation, for their deep rooted ideology (creed, dogma) held the tenet (principle) that an animal’s existence came from the viscera (guts) and in this way, the hunted animal that had given his life for their survival, would be reborn again soon after. Thereof the life-force in the mountain would not be interrupted and the souls of the animals would always be returned to its steward, Rognar, the Mountain God. Rognar appeased, he would hence not hinder the future hunts or visit the hunter with some calamity.

Mountain God Rognar

At the conclusion of the requisite work, both Svein and Stark returned to the cabin, fetched fresh set of clothing, and walking alongside again in silence, for Stark did not encourage (even detested) idle chatter, quickly trailed a well-traveled goat’s path to wash up at the cascading icy stream. This mode of cleansing/hygiene had always been quite adequate for the two, but with the furtherance of each step, both  had privately on the side now pondered on the concerns and certain  impending future requirements or requisite adjustments her mere presence would entail- regrettably impinging on many of their otherwise well regimented routines.

Svein was not least bit perturbed by this; he welcomed the portended changes. Same could not be said about Stark however, even though he had thus far kept his views to himself, in truth he had been disquieted by this untoward added burden of a guest that could further complicate matters that were already precarious enough. By rights, his own life should have been long ago forfeited, having already joined with his honorable ancestors in the nether region. The sole purpose, chief reason for the opprobrious prolongation of his existence had been to honor an oath and to fulfill a pledge: to  shield and to prepare Svein for that impending future event, by undertaking the daunting task of overseeing (supervising) Svein’s welfare and education in both fields- literary, political and military. Her presence could be a serious impingement to this objective or (perhaps) a boon to that of which was yet to be determined. Regardless, seeing the definite hand of fate in this, he would albeit reluctantly, accepted this added, surplus encumbrance or, a challenge.

That afternoon, as Svein was left to overseeing to some other pressing matters, Stark, first topped the iron kettle with added fresh water, and placed it on the burner alongside the pot containing meat and vegetables, for it to boil. They would have the ceremonial tea after the gratification of sustenance.

Deeming the time appropriate, Stark fetched the small medicine box, and going over, he gently tapped on her door before entering.

(END OF SECTION 2)

 

                                                                                          ~

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)