LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 3

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 3

That evening, when the monk Fayet’s services were no longer required, as an alternative to withdrawing to his room for prayers then sleep, Fayet sought instead, to pay a visit to his friend and confidant, Muro.

MONK MURO

 It was not long before their casual conversation about this or that point of interest veered to usual contending topics.

“How you carry on!!! Give that wagging tongue of yours a rest!”  With a stern, brisk remark, Muro walked over to his night table, and withdrawing a particular parchment, then obtaining the appropriate quill pen (brush), dipped the point into small inkbottle and resumed adding few more lines that had just come to mind, to his long-standing prose, sort of elegy, that he’d been working on.

“Boy, what a strange bunch! I mean, they are so formal with each other.” Fayet suddenly blurted out, looking away from the window. He grimaced, seeing how he’d startled the other in mid-stroke of the enigmatic verse.

Muro’s head raised, he pinned his questioning eyes to Fayet’s, with a stern expression of slight annoyance, since he suspected Fayet of weaving yet another tapestry of lies to gain importance. “He’s so obvious with his not-so-subtle hints; I suppose the report can wait...”  He put the quill pen down.

“Well, let’s hear it, I haven’t got all night!” He, with irritation, snorted.  Outwardly, however he could not resist toying with Fayet; and so, abstaining from making any verbal inquiry, he again picked up the brush and purportedly (ostensibly) turned his attention back to the parchment before him.

“First they came quite unexpectedly and out of season at that, then they expect us to go all out for them!” Fayet pursing his lips ejected a peeved grunt.

“Are you still griping about that?”  Muro smiled wryly.  “I would think that, of all people, you should be the last one to air a complaint, or can it be that the old gentleman is tight-fisted with you, denying you the lion’s share of the gratuities you are so used to wringing out?”

“Why are you so bent on antagonizing me?  Really, from the way you speak one would think I have been hoarding (stashing away) a mountain of riches beneath my bed.  You know very well that I receive no extra perk, minimal that always is, until the last day of their visit when all accounts are settled.”

“Fine, fine…” Muro forgoing Fayet’s sarcasm, cast the report aside, fetched the board that had stones on it strategically placed, and on his beckoning, they resumed playing the ongoing game. When at last, after careful consideration, Muro moved the key stone to another place on board, “Hah, ha, ha….  You’ll be sorry you did that!” Fayet lifted one of his pieces, and skipping two spaces ahead, placed it squarely down with a thud, in apt retaliation.  “Now take that!” The advantage he’d gained had instantaneously cheered Fayet anew.

Muro frowned, “You caught me off guard.  My mind was elsewhere.”  Then, shaking a finger at Fayet, he warned, “But don’t celebrate your gains too soon.

“Confound it, what was it I needed to tell you? Oh yes, now I remember.” Fyeta ignored the latter’s idle threat. “Now listen, I really have a good piece of info to tell you, but it must not leave this room.”

Fayet cast an anxious glance, “Do you mind if I close the door?  What I have to say next must be kept in the strictest confidence.”  Then, without waiting for the other’s assent, he sprung to his feet and went to the door, closing and even locking it. 

Muro’s curiosity right now aroused, he looked inquiringly at Fayet when the latter returned, and once more were seated across. Delighting in prolonging the suspense, Fayet first examined the pieces on the board game most carefully.

“For Heaven’s sake, I haven’t touched a thing.  Now what was it you wanted to tell me about?” Muro impatiently demanded.

But Fayet gallingly kept his cool and pinned his eyes to the board.  Then, with deliberate slowness, he moved his piece to a strategic point.  Now, with a contented air, he swelled his chest, leaned back and smiled.  Pointing his finger to it, “First try to get out of this one,” he gloated. “I told you I would get you, sooner or later!”

Muro became distraught.  Indeed, he was placed in a most precarious position.  One wrong move and he would have to again forfeit the game.  He already owed Fayet a considerable sum, since they had always played for stakes.  He was hoping to recover some of his losses today.  As Muro wracked his brains over his next move, Fayet drew near and whispered in his ear. “The list for prayers, the elderly gentleman had been asked to complete this morning”

“What about it?” Muro stuck out his chin in antagonistic stance; then upon reflection, “Oh, have you seen the list?” he quickly asked.

“Of course not, what a thing to say, why that would be an unpardonable violation? It would land me in serious trouble, to say the least!” Fayet grumbled feigning shock, but all the same dawning smirk and winked. 

Muro, tad flustered with all Fayet’s pretexts, inadvertently placed his piece in the wrong quarter; this could have ended the game immediately in Fayet’s favor.

“Hey, you can’t do that!  Take it back; I’ll pretend I didn’t see it.  But remember, you owe me a turn.”

“Never mind the game,” Muro pushed the board aside, “I’ve lost all interest in it. Fayet, stop beating around the bush; have you, or have you not seen it?”

With a broad smirk on his face, Fayet made a pretense of dallying, and then uttered a few, unconvincing, words of denial.

 “Do tell if you’ve seen it, brother.” Muro, adapting a softer stance, entreated. “I promise not to divulge your infraction to a living soul.  Still, you’re probably pulling my leg.  His eminence would have your hide...You wouldn’t be so brazen?”  Now he cast a doubtful look at Fayet, goading him to prove otherwise.

 Fayet’s persisting, knowing smirk nevertheless reaffirmed Muro’s suspicion.

 “But how did you ever manage it?”

 “Did I say that?” Fayet stalled, pursing his lips and looking away in indignation, exasperating Muro further. 

 “Have it your way, brother.” Muro, afterthought, offered a quick solution.  “Let us say that someone else, an undisclosed third party saw the list.  What so incredible (strange) about a list anyhow, why make such a fuss over it?”

Fayet ‘s sheepish smile deleted, he ejected in a serious tone: “Now, you didn’t hear this from me, understand?” He paused long enough to receive Muro’s affirmative nod. “Ah, and that’s just it.  It is not just an ordinary list, but one that is most intriguing and highly dubious!” He was about to say more, opened his mouth, but did not articulate any.  He appeared to be hesitating.

What now? Muro almost demanded, but checking his quickly rising temper, asked latter in conciliatory tone, to please continue.  “Brother, why keep me in suspense, reeling me in like a fish, then stalling?”

“I assure you that is the farthest thing from my aim, however,” Fayet coughed, as if to clear his throat, “if I were to tell it to you in its entirety, it being a rather lengthy account, my throat would get parched, then what’s there to lessen my discomfort?  Frankly, I’m tired.  Perhaps I should leave it for now, and call on you on another day, to tell it then.”  With that, Fayet gave a pretense of rising to his feet.

‘So that’s your game. This better be good!’

“Oh no, that won’t do,” Muro hurriedly grasped Fayet’s arm to keep him down; if truth be told, he was now beyond peeved, regretting the day he’d disclosed his secret stash, the so called, medicinal brew to him. “Here, you stay put while I’ll go get us some medicinal brew.  That should be sufficient to ease any would be discomfort to you.”

“But, brother, I would not dream of putting you to so much trouble.” Fayet protested, halfheartedly.

“Nonsense, I insist you stay and partake some. It’s the least I can do.” Even as he said this, Muro was cursing him under his breath.

‘You draw a hefty price, this better be good!’ Again, he inwardly huffed as he went to retrieve a small portion of his hoard, the medicinal concoction, one he’d so masterfully adapted, through his extensive knowledge of medicine and chemistry.

The so called remedial, therapeutic ingredients, cured over time in such a way, that when ingested, it intoxicated the senses, akin to inebriated state. The only drawback was that the ingredients to this private stash, had to be carefully, in miniscule doses siphoned off-from the dried ingredients stored in kitchens or jealously guarded herbal storages- so as not to be noticed, then secretively ripened under various guises, mixed and then allowed final maturity in particular containers in such a way as to not incur suspicion or discovery.   With that much trouble, he’d jealously guarded the fruits of his labor, till that day of accidental discovery by Fayet.  Since then, he’d been a pest, every so often calling on him to extort some- supposedly in fair exchange of some vital information as latter was better positioned to obtain it, but specifically, for Fayet’s lasting discretionary silence.

Muro dawning a deceptively appeasing smile to his lips, first cleared the table of the game board, fetched some goblets (glass, cup) then going over dug up the clay flagon from one such hiding place- a seemingly innocuous flowerpot.  Brushing off the unwanted debris, he broke open the seal and poured a generous portion of the contents into Fayet’s cup. So potent was the concoction, that a single mouthful equaled a full cup of alcoholic beverage.

Fayet’s beaming face only served to annoy him further.  “How generous you are brother to treat me to your special remedy!”

That’s right, rub salt on the wound.  “Brother, you do me too much honor,” nevertheless, he grunted. “Clearly, this is but an ordinary cooling beverage, to help alleviate your discomfort.”

“Thanks all the same.” without further due, unceremoniously Fayet raised the cup to his lips, the saliva already glistening at the corners of his mouth, with ready anticipation.

Muro was the senior of the two, but his unassuming straightforward, and unbending, stubborn nature had impeded his advance in the order, and he was oftentimes assigned to mundane, menial tasks. At least that’s what it seemed on the outset; whilst Fayet with his ready wit, with his craftiness and glib tongue, quite the popular person with wide circle of friends, through his amicable deference to his superiors- especially those that allocated duties to the lower orders- had always landed himself the latent lucrative jobs.

 Tall in stature (height), with a fair complexion and gentle eyes, Fayet always donned that most likable smile and his innermost charm to melt away all contempt, jealousy and anger in his adversaries.  One could never stay mad at him or deny him favors for too long.

 “Well, as I was saying, this person in question, who had been entrusted with delivering the letter, well, he noticed that the adhesive of the seal had not dried properly.  So, taking a chance I... I mean, he carefully pried it open and peered at the contents before re-sealing it and delivering it to His Worship’s confidence.  You would never have guessed at the contents of that letter.”  He stopped to swallow some more supposed cooling beverage, and then waited for the other to urge him to continue.  When Muro did not oblige, Fayet bit disappointed, resumed, “One request was what you would expect, being for the ancestors- Nothing unusual in that, but the other three listings, well, they were most curious.  At the top of the list, instead of the usual one, of our reining Sovereign’s name, was the cryptic allusion to late Sovereign, you know, the one who was deposed.”  Again, he paused for a reaction. “Fortunately, I am gifted in such and was able to decipher it without an extensive effort, that’s how I came to know of it, in case you’ve been wondering.” He then volunteered gleefully, the effects of the drink already going to his head.

“That is most curious.” Muro was forced to agree.  “Loyalists, still existing in our midst, I would have thought that they’ve all been annihilated long ago?”

“It goes to show you, one can never be certain about anything.”  Fayet grunted. “Didn’t I promise you this would be good?  Wait till you hear the rest.  The other request was for a name I’d never seen, “Lujeling Osywie”, not even from this country.  I mean it was foreign in origin.”

“So, what,” Muro remained unimpressed.

“Well, don’t you think it’s strange, especially since they made no claim to be foreigners?”

 “Oh, you can be so exasperating!” Muro lashed out at Fayet, having reached the end of his patience. Besides, his sense, his reasoning mind was also being affected somewhat, (not yet dulled though) by his consumption of the potent brew.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, despite all seeming appearances, they are perhaps some affluent merchant families or something like it after all.  Why stop there, the next thing you’ll be laying claim, I bet, is that they are not a family, that they are not even related! Besides, why don’t you just drop this entire pretense, this mocking charade?  You really are insulting my intelligence with your insistence that it was not you who peered into that envelope.  Why don’t you just come clean with me?  Or is it that, after all this time and after all your claims you still mistrust me?”

  “Well, before I hang myself further, you must first give me your solemn promise to secrecy.” Fayet growled.

“I already have done so, and more than once, I might add.”, Muro protested.

“That’s right, you did.  Well, all right then, I won’t try to deceive you any longer.  Yes, I’ll confess, it was me all along.  Now, returning to the point of the said foreign name, my guess is that they are spies and yes, I suspected all along, that they are not a family, only pretending to be one to be innocuous. I wonder how many more moles (infiltrators, plants) are out there, furtively living in our midst and relaying back vital information to, in the end, undermine our Nation.  Aren’t we strained in our relationships with our border kingdoms?”

“You have a very fertile imagination; I grant you that. Even if that was so, why waste time here, so far from the capital or the other such metropolis, where ample opportunity exists?”

“I don’t know, to tell you the truth.  That part is a conundrum to me also.” Fayet shrugged.  “Unless they are in hiding and need a place to lay low for a time.  I mean, who would look for foreign spies here?”

“Still,” Muro demurred, “why risk compromising their cover with their untimely visit here, instead of a more usual time.  And surely it would be some poor disguise: noted gentlemen with such attractive youths as his kin, spies, bah!?”

“That proves it!” Fayet excitedly interjected, “Normal concealing abnormal, and that in turn, concealing normal?  Don’t you see how perfect their cover is?  Look how much trouble I’m having, laboring to convince you of the idea.  One more thing, when the elderly gentleman bathed, I saw how his right arm was severed, a clean cut right below the elbow, as if it was caused by a sword or ax.  A surgeon would have cut the joint, and an accident would have left messier scar tissue.  I tell you, there is something suspicious about that lot.”

“And wait, till you hear more.  The third name, a non-distinctive name, but parchment held against the light revealed that there had been something else, deliberately expunged underneath; unfortunately I could not quite make out what it was, still, few bits looked like - ‘hu...rrog..Zho’.  Now I ask you, why go through so much trouble to supplant it?”

“You’re sure it hadn’t been an ordinary, innocent mistake, set to, right?”

“Why say so, you don’t believe that any more than I do.”

 Muro could no longer hold his peace, “Brother, do you take me for a fool?  Why insult my intelligence with your suppositions and spun tall tales. Why by your own account your facts are contradictory.  If these people were spies or loyalists, hard enough to be both at the same time, why would they put down actual names for their ancestors, two such at that?  Secondly, in keeping with their clandestine feat, they should have first, at the head of the list, put down our Reigning Liege’s name to deflect least suspicion instead of the deposed one, in cryptic form or not. And why would they be so clumsy as to leave remnants of concealment to be picked up….by you, whilst they made no such attempt with their obviously foreign names.   If they wanted to make a true offering to such, they would have waited until they were in safe domain of their own country; I ask you, why risk everything by doing it here, covertly or otherwise?”

Fayet’s good mood in a puff of smoke had now vanished in thin air as his head was riddled with rebellious, skirmishing facts that (other) latter had invoked; hence, he retaliated.  “Boy, you are dense.  If the truth, like a big, ugly fly, landed on your nose you would not see it and, like you are doing now, you would deny its presence.”

This was uncalled for, how could he stand by and let this brute affront him?  Not only had Fayet consumed his scant reserve, taken him for a ride, but now he would stoop so low to openly insult him in his face, by making fun of his nose!  The latter knew that, because of a recent manifest pimple (zit), this was a contentious issue with him!!!  Muro was so filled with rage that he wished he could pound Fayet into dust. But that would not do; so instead, he took a long slow intake of breath, inwardly recited the prayer of patience and took a sip from his goblet, as he forced restraint on his anger.

Obnoxious (insufferable) Fayet, meanwhile, clueless as to what he had done, with a meek smile plastered on his lips, had held out his cup for another refill.  Muro lied: “I’m sorry, there is no more, we’ve consumed it all.” and, using this as an excuse, declared his fatigue and suggested they retire for the night.

 “I think you’d better go now; I have to get up early tomorrow.” he repeated bluntly when the other refused to take the hint.  He had meant to leave it there, but this time he could not stop himself from adding, “Not all of us are as favored as you.”

“Tsk, tsk.” Fayet growled, having caught Muro’s words.  “So that’s the thanks I get for my troubles.  Brother beware of your shifting color.  Spare no caution, lest some insects mistake you for a green plant and start gnawing away at your most prominent projection…Ha, ha, ha!”  Rising from his seat he belched laughter into Muro’s face.

It was all he could do to stem the urge to strike this upstart Fayet.  And so, the two had parted as adversaries, cursing inwardly, the ground the other walked on.

The estrangement had no lasting effect however, by morrow, when the effects of potion wore off, their fury would similarly wane and Fayet, with his amicable ways, with his sleek, wagging tongue, would once again inveigle himself into Muro’s good graces.

                                                                             ~

(END OF SECTION 3)

 (Be sure to check the next post section 4, that is also the conclusion of “Trip to the Monastery”; where which a pleasant, but not altogether a surprise element, will be disclosed.)

  

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 )