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 3

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE RESCUE- SECTION 3

                                                    

Jiense (Teuquob) after having washed up, she had waited patiently for a time seated at the edge of the bed, for her hosts to call in on her. Then feeling bit famished, she had sauntered to where the tray with food was and helped herself to some delectable tidbits, after which, again in the same repose, waited for their return.

Well, disposed, in this interim her eyes had leisurely scanned the room: it was kept impeccably (spotlessly) clean and with everything attractively arranged in their respective places.  The walls bore shelves filled with bound books and countless scrolls.  Going over, she’d picked one, then another, perused through each but could not decipher the strange writings or ideograms (ideographs) that was so meticulously laid out (each contained).  Then her attention was drawn to Svein’s spare hunting gear off to the side, hung up for future use.  Running her fingers over it, she astutely studied the fine artisanship of the bow and the quiver, holding some thirty arrows.  She was reminded of his heroic stature all during their adventurous escapade of the past number of days. Just then she was again distracted when her attention was drawn to a beautiful ink painting farther to her left.  Done on silk, and then mounted on the wall for easier viewing, the scene depicted was breathtakingly beautiful and most lifelike.  As she gazed at the scenery, she felt the coolness of the misty veil of twilight that shrouded the low-lying valleys at the foot of these majestic mountains.  She could feel herself breathing the fresh mountain air into her lungs.  The flight of the birds was captured in such a true likeness that they looked as though they would, at any given moment, fly out of the picture towards her.  She stood there admiring the painting for quite some time, then once more she looked about her.

The few tastefully crafted pieces of furniture accentuated the elegant lines of the room and the other simple pieces.  Clearly this was no ordinary hunter’s lodge.  Everything about these two, their refined speech and manner, the presence of books and art, all spoke of a cultured, perhaps an aristocratic individual.  Yet same time devoid of least conceit or any egotistical pride, they conducted themselves with such unassuming, humble decorum.  Her curiosity now peaked; she wished she could some ways learn their language to resolve this conundrum, this quizzical enigma. Perhaps she could persuade the old gentlemen, though stern as he was, he may yet prove approachable if asked nicely, to educate, rather enlighten her on the indigenous, verbal language.

A moment or so, she was back at seated position at the edge of the bed awaiting their contact. But as time progressed and there was still no sign of

either of them, overcome with tiredness she had reclined on her side and gingerly laid her head on the raised, pristine pillow intending only to rest for a spell; instead, short time later she’d succumbed to a deep sleep. 

                                                                                  ~ 

Presently, the knock on the door awakened her with a start. How long had she slept? Thank goodness it was not dark yet. At once jumping up she composed herself in a respectful seated position at the edge of the bed; after exhaling deeply, she coughed loudly to sound her ascent and waited perfectly poised to receiving her gracious hosts.

Entering the room, Stark indicated to her to remain seated then pulled up a chair beside her. Lifting his medicine box onto the night table, he opened it. The first layer contained a set of beautifully crafted medical tools, a testament to the goldsmith’s art, gauze of fine silk and so forth.  He lifted out this section, placing it to the side, and revealed the underneath section, carefully segmented, which contained some forty or fifty miniature porcelain bottles of different glazes and colors, each filled with different potions to treat a variety of ailments.  He chose one of light, sky blue and, after prying out the stopper with one hand. He poured some of it onto cotton gauze and after receiving permission, very carefully applied it to her cuts and bruises. Though it stung quite a bit, she bore the pain stoically, allowing him without undue interruption, to finish the job of tending to her wounds.

Stark with his most attentive care as well oversaw to the rest of her anticipated needs.  She could not manage speech and, with her eyes and sign language she strove to convey to him her intense feelings of deep gratitude. Appreciating the effort, he’d simply nodded with an amicable smile and urged her to get some more rest. The supper will take a while still to be readied.

When the aromatic, flavorful smells of stewing meat and choice vegetables drifted into the room and reached Teuquob, it woke her from her lengthy nap ravenous, yet feeling absolutely refreshed.

That evening she ate all the generous (portions) serving of food on her plate and even had seconds.

Stark was somewhat pleased at being so aptly appreciated for his culinary skills. Female gender always expressed themselves ever so delightfully!

Though her stomach was full (bursting at the seams), out of politeness, she’d even partaken some of the sumptuous, rare fruits and other such dried morsels laid out for the finishing course. 

After the fine tea, refusing her help, she was politely asked to retire to her room for good night’s rest, that of which, she’d obliged quite willingly. Back in the privacy of her room, she was delighted at finding an immaculate, folded nightdress, best suited one they could find, for her use. Undressing quickly, she’d downed it, which wasn’t a bad fit, and crawled in under the warm quilt, for as much as it was summer, nights in the mountain this altitude, was still quite chilly. She had expected the roaring of the predatory animals milling about at outside would keep her up all night, but no sooner had her head rested on the plush pillow, that she was instantly succumbed to deep slumber.

Same could not be said, about Stark and Svein. Exhausted as Svein was- for it had been a rather long, grueling day- still, he was by no means ready to retire. After the dishes were cleared away, seated comfortably then by the raging fire in the central room that served as both the dining room, kitchen and study room, Svein, over another fresh cup of tea, related succinctly to his beloved uncle his adventures, and the circumstances under which he’d encountered and rescued the “damsel in distress”.

As she’d been unconscious at the time, he had little choice but to take her along; later still, thought they could not utilize Wenjenkun’s proper language for communication, she’d nevertheless, shown willingness to follow him. Constrained (compelled) with the certain sense of obligation for her welfare, he’d taken the chance and in defiance of the rule, had brought her here.

Under the circumstances Stark could not fault (or raise least objections to) Svein’s reasoning and nodded his albeit reluctant ascent; then he’d quietly listened on to the rest of the young man’s narrated adventures and the rather intriguing details of his ensued, rousing actions, till it was time for them to retire.

                                                                                 ~

Subsequent morning, both Stark and Svein rose at the crack of dawn and went about quietly accomplishing their daily routine chores; but out of deference for the young lady, she was allowed to sleep as long as she wished.

When Teuquob finally awoke and rose from the bed, she found clean, neatly folded towel and fresh supply of water in the porcelain wash basin for her use.

After dressing up she opened her door slightly ajar and peered at the living quarters expecting to greet them, but there was no one about.  After moment’s hesitation, she emerged at the living quarters and called out to elicit response from her hosts, but soon realized that she was indeed, quite along in the cabin. Yet the stove was lit, and an iron kettle placed on top of it was letting off steam. 

Meanwhile there on the dining room table was some light fare that consisted of fruits and nuts and some grains, and a loaf and so on, for a suitable breakfast. The Teapot remarkably still contained rather hot brew of tea just right for consumption. She was hesitant to take part at first but upon reflection seeing that there was only one table setting, a single plate, utensil and a cup and everything was arranged in front of one chair, she readily understood that they must have already breakfasted (had theirs) and in anticipation of her needs, all that before her had been arranged (furnished) for her private (sole) indulgence.

Seated comfortably at the designated chair, she nevertheless hesitated for a moment or two longer. Meanwhile, her attention was temporarily drawn to the tall bookshelves with their volumes of bound books and rows of scrolls at the far end.  Before it stood a chair and desk which bore some more books with place markings jutting from each, a set of ivory brushes, carved lion paperweights done in a semi-precious stone, with blocks of ink beside them.  A few feet away rested a comfortable looking rocking chair with a small table beside it.  The door to the other room was tightly closed. 

There is so much I wish to know about them; for instance, are they scholars in seclusion or patricians? What propelled them or compelled them to choose this obviously difficult, sort of renegade, precarious existence? What about family and friends?  Very much intrigued, she again inwardly queried, before turning her attention back to the breakfast at hand. It looked quite appetizing, and she was famished after all. So, without further delay, she helped herself to some of the delectable fare, expecting them to at any moment to come through the main doorway; but long after she’d had her fill, there’d been still no sign of the men. She would have liked to have cleared the dishes and put things away, but her new and strange surroundings deterred her from this aim, not wishing to incur disfavor with the elderly gentlemen who appeared to be rather set in his ways. He might not appreciate her well-intended intrusion; somewhat reluctantly therefore, she left things as they were and went outside in search of her hosts. Standing at the doorstep, she scanned the immediate perimeter projecting her gaze as far as she could see; but to her dismay there was not a sign of them anywhere.

Where could they be? Did anything dreadful happen...? 

Suddenly she was beset with that uninvited dread; she forsook the only rational recourse of returning to the cabin to wait for them there, and instead opted to exploring the immediate vicinity. Her attention was at once elicited by the rustic, sturdily built structure that looked to be a stable and she walked towards it.  Once inside, she saw the most remarkable, the finest breed of war horse ever; the spirited steed was well taken care of, the floor was neatly swept, the trough contained fresh water, and he was contentedly eating the fodder that was piled high before him.  Carrying a special fondness for horses, she drew near and stroked his mane.  He stopped eating, neighed softly and nuzzled her arm.  Instantly, they’d become good friends.  When later still, she made certain mention of this to Stark, he’d appeared quite amazed; nevertheless, he concealed from her how this horse was, in fact, quite willful, temperamental and unapproachable. 

Adjacent to the stable was a smaller structure which she soon discovered it to be a smoke storehouse. Emerging outside, her attention this time was drawn to that small, cultivated section of herbs, vegetables, and other such presumably eatable greens of diverse varieties.  Going over, she studied them with interest, even recognizing some rare species that were known to have had some very important medicinal properties. 

Ensa would have been delighted at such an abundant arrangement- so well organized too! Perhaps, her hosts would allow her to help along with the gardening? “That way,” She mused. “I could be of some service and repay their kindness while furthering (expanding on) my knowledge of the horticulture that is indigenous to this region.”

 “Hmm… Her hosts, but where were they?”  Looking about her, rather impatiently, she again questioned the air.

“Perhaps if she were to venture little further… she may run into them?” 

 Subsequently, during pursuit, she’d dangerously strayed far beyond the safe circumference of the habitat. She did not think she’d gone too far following the scantily viable footpath, but before she knew it, she’d suddenly found herself immersed in the thick foliage having lost all sense of direction- Ups!

Unexpectedly, the unequivocal sounds of combat coming from little ways yonder, reached her ears and despite her better judgment, her heart laden with misgivings still succumbing to the subconscious wish to investigate, involuntarily propelled her feet to advance towards the direction of the noise. Fortunately, she had the good sense to halt part way before she happened on the volatile scene and using apt discretion, instead, she peered through the opening in the foliage. The vista that her eyes beheld - both Stark and Svein naked to waist, locked in the fiercest of armed conflict- verily shocked and same time dismayed her. 

Subsequent minute each of them a blur, they wielded their swords with such consummate skill, affecting such deadly strikes on the opponent, that the act lasting for a spell, yet seemingly perpetual, quaked the very earth and the sky.

More incredible still, in the blinking of an eye the combatants and the circumference next became invisible, as all were sucked into that vortex of the blinding swirling clouds of dust and flying debris. 

Shaken to the core, she withdrew at once back into the shadows and after having steadied her nerves, inwardly now queried, “Have I dreamt it? How can it be…Such force, the like of which I have never, ever seen! How could mere mortals affect such vigor, such potency?”  Though she could not resolve this quandary, nevertheless, she assured herself, that there had to be a valid explanation for what she’d just observed. As it were, in all that time spent with Svein, and despite his unbelievable strength and stamina, she’d never once questioned his authenticity. She nodded, deciding to hang onto that prior intuition; however, with the ground incessantly shaking beneath her feet and her ears still ringing with the noise, she found it hard to repute the existing extraordinary circumstances and inwardly again quizzed, “Such force, the incredible speed…Surely they could not, but be, of the spirit world!”  Moreover, the persistent strong imagery, Svein and Stark liken to the two immortals, demigods or titans fighting, refused to dissipate or go away.

What had she gotten herself into?

Unbidden, just then another concern crept into her heart to further unsettle her: Why were they fighting? 

A moment or so later, still agitated, wringing her hands, she’d leaned her head and back against the thick trunk of an ancient tree, to sort things out for herself. “What possible reason or argument provoked such an outcome between the two? Was she the cause of this contention? The elder gentlemen had at the beginning, when he first laid eyes on her from afar, looked rather displeased.  He had later, rather reticently perhaps, been cordial, even kind. Could she have been mistaken about the tell-tale (indicator) signs of her being welcome nevertheless?”

Unwilling to look, through the sounds and the undeniable vibration beneath her feet, she could still determine the intensity of ongoing conflict; pinned to the spot, with her eyes trailing the invisible lines on the plush, grass carpeted ground, she now struggled with the inner dilemma: the urge to flee or to intercede! 

Just then however the eternal disturbance ceased as the two abruptly broke off their deadly engagement (dispute/ contest) and Stark began instructing Svein on the alternate measures and varied maneuvers. 

With her mind now at ease, she heaved a deep sigh and shook her head, feeling somewhat foolish.  “So, they had only been practicing. How absurd she’d been to have thought otherwise.” 

“But it had looked so real, so deadly!” She reiterated inwardly, in her defense. “Perhaps in her agitation, she had unwittingly imagined the intensity as well. Under the circumstances, as it would be improper of her to resume with her spying, she might as well announce (disclose) her presence.”

She brushed aside the foliage and stepped out into the clearing; before she could accost them however, she was again startled, rather stymied by what she saw, and it had actually, this time, registered in her brain- Stark’s amputated right arm with the part missing right below the elbow, the naked flesh of the stump now exposed in plain view.  Previously in the pitched fighting with their swift agile maneuvers, moves that had been executed with such precision that the combatants had appeared as though a single entity; and earlier still, perhaps due to her extreme mental and physical fatigue, she’d not paid any particular attention or given any credence to the immobile, rather, the missing portion of the arm of her host, especially since it had remained well concealed under the long sleeved fine garbs. In her defense, he’d carried himself with such finesse and a natural bearing that even the most astute observer would have overlooked it.  Be that as it may, at present quickly bracing herself from this added shock and assuming the correct composure, she’d willed her feet in the direction towards them.

                                                                                            ~

   (More exciting facts are revealed in the next post of The rescue, section 4)                                                                                

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)

 

                                                                                          ~