LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC
THE RESCUE - SECTION 6
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)
