THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 1

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 1

 

After the joyous event, Heaven continued to smile on the inhabitants of that remote Mountain dwelling as each continued with their daily routines in blissful co-existence.  Typically, as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, what they did not know, and could not have foreseen was that, in another part of the country, far, far away, the green-eyed providence had already dealt them the hazard card.

It so happened that the ever-present peril Brant Dustin and Duan, by a quirk of fate had just then attained that singular advantage when, on the heels of several bizarre coincidences, their persistent unholy quest brought them to the vicinity of Heaven's Gate Spiritual Temple. 

Previously, (akin to) resembling two mounted specks, they had spurred their horse’s day after day in an unrelenting gallop to cover considerable ground in one of the most expansive and hostile regions. Having long since lost his bearings, Brandt   nevertheless had done his utmost to keep up with Duan’s unbelievable stamina and furious speed.  In all that time, the latter, a poor company grunted few begrudging words, and this only at nightfall while they partook (ingested) dried sustenance in advance of the negligible, brief respite by the makeshift campfire. Even this slight measure, Brandt   suspected, Duan had only acceded to solely out of consideration for their mounts.

 Solitude or grueling schedule was not the worst of it, Duan’s indifference, his oftentimes manifest condescending side glances or that intolerable, periodic wry grimaces, compounded Brandt’s ire making him yearn for a diversion: even an onslaught from the fiercest bandits was preferable to this!  Brandt   who’d spent most of his life in the hub of a densely populated Capital city, in effort to escape this abhorrent monotony, recently had allowed himself certain secret indulgences of ruminations concerning   those barely passable human habitations and the odd myriad characters and the ensued events that had by degrees, with each leg of the journey gained more significance.  He was amid one such, when just then detecting the slight wisp of dust beyond the next hump (hill) of this irregular, sporadically forested landscape, Brandt   sat up straight and elatedly turned his head askew to speak, but meeting Duan’s mocking, sardonic smile, he quickly checked his tongue.

 Duan simply nodded then spurred his mount in that very direction. Before long they had come upon a very welcome sight, a cluster of devout pilgrims with their necessary entourage, as it was the usual time for the pilgrimage, trudging along and at times managing with some competence, the narrow gravel corridor that cut through a difficult terrain. Knowing at the end of their route there would be a place of worship Brandt   grinned wryly, constraining   his rather bursting excitement. Inwardly however, he was delighted at this unexpected reprieve from the elements and looked forward to ingesting hot meals and resting his weary bones in sure to be a more suitable lodging. The last thing he expected however was the unreasonable, staunch resistance from Duan. Eventually, when Duan’s amusement and the hilarity of Brandt’s ingenious arguments grew tiresome for Duan, he then feigning   to have been persuaded had tersely consented to the plan and the brief stay at the Temple.

 At dusk they stealthily approached the group that had pitched camp and, expanding only a slight effort, obtained the necessary items (religious artifacts) and garb. Now appropriately disguised, at first daylight they quietly adjoined the ranks of countless pious affiliates seeking routine salvation or absolution.

Subsequent days, the resolute snaking line descended then ascended the strenuous, oftentimes challenging, winding path to finally arrive at a clearing before the towering imposing arch.  All pilgrims now welcomed, right away gongs were sounded with a deafening   noise, after which the thick metal gates slowly creaked open to pave the way. The enthusiastic devotees without (apparent) ostensible, serious scrutiny or hindrance, with that unmistakable excited aura all streamed in through the wide-open gates to crowd into the courtyard.

In no time at all the well-organized Hostellers succinctly saw to it that all pious visitors were duly registered, their special needs promptly addressed, and all were comfortably settled in their assigned quarters.

Likewise, after meeting the necessary expenses, Duan and Brandt   were also assiduously escorted to their modestly furnished quarters. Duan’s apparent preoccupation did little to mitigate Brandt’s disdainful air. Forgoing idle chatter, he had disappeared the moment Brandt’s back was turned, and upon his return, refused to give any explanation for his long absence.

That evening’s repast (at the Refectory) was tad too plain and coarse for Brandt ’s taste, still, it being palatable enough than most other places there’d been too, and feeling famished, he’d had his fill and washed it all down with refreshing liquids, mistakenly forgoing digestive tea.  Thus, in the small hours while all patrons and devotee guests were dead to the world, Brandt   moreover suffering dyspepsia, had endlessly turned, and tossed. Sometime or rather, he must have fallen asleep, for then he was cast into the throes of the same nightmare that tortured his soul.

In this horrific dream, once again he saw himself in that most wretched state, suffering the eternal torments of Hell. His hair disheveled, clothes torn, bleeding from countless lacerations, he was being subjected to the worst kind of humiliation and excruciating pain inflicted by those abominable, vile creatures of the underworld. Contemptible eunuch Egil Viggoaries was there also, he was in charge, laughing up a storm as he devoured the entrails of yet another poor victim squealing in pain, while at the same time he poked and prodded the unfortunate captive.

His father in the adjoining cell, suffering the infinite unspeakable tortures and beleaguered and besieged much in the same vile way, between his anguished, accusatory screams cursed Brandt   incessantly for having failed to avenge him. “Damn you, damn you coward…You are no son of mine! Oh, I should have killed you in your crib, while you slept and be done with the shame you have brought upon me…Shame, oh shame, shame!”

His anguished soul pushed to the brink Brandt; yet again (same as always) willed himself awake from this inexorable, unvarying nightmare.

 He lay still; casting his blank (vacant) gaze about for some time, inwardly striving hard to reassure his soul, his being of his actual present status, for his ears persisted in ringing with those hurtful curses! When after an extended period those relentlessly vivid, dreadful images of the nightmare refused to recede, determinedly he sprang from the bed, quickly dressed, and then exited the room for some breath of fresh air.

 After a time, still reluctant to return to sleep, he strolled aimlessly about the grounds. There were smaller temples dotting this sector, each housing a different God to accommodate different regions of the Country. Depending on need, devotees’ (aficionados’) visited the specific Deity, made offerings, and burned incense to it; then in supplicate, prayed or asked favors. Brandt   differing in his religious beliefs from this order, he cared not for the temples, images of Gods, their idols, or the elaborate displays.

After only a cursory glance at one such temple, Brandt   wrinkled his nose in disgust, turned, and headed out of the building. He strolled through the embellished gardens dappled with fountains and ponds teaming with rare fish, but once more he found nothing extraordinary to warrant his interest, he had seen far better elsewhere, so he bypassed these also to reach a more desolate area (corner).

Now, in addition to the usual sentries posted at the gate and the lookout towers, each night a different pair of monks were assigned to walk the grounds. Shunning   all of these, Brandt   took the unusual course, delving into forested segments, and by following unfrequented paths he emerged through the bushes at the (Dorter: which was the monk’s dormitory) private quarters of monks.

He was about to turn back when his sharp ears just then picked up the hushed voices of a couple of monks engaged in jovial conversation. His eyes searched the compound till he spotted a barely visible, dim light emanating from the stilts of one of the windows, a detached dwelling at the far end, nestled amidst the pines. Intrigued, he stealthily advanced towards it. The windowpane was left a tiny bit ajar to allow the fresh night’s air to come in. Brandt   quietly drew close and hiding in the shadows, he was poised to listen.

Whereas most slept blissfully (in their private cells), resting from days grueling chores, this odd pair was animatedly indulging in private conversation whilst sipping periodically from a cup that from time to time got refilled from a jar.

Brandt’s curiosity peaked, same time he was amused as he became more certain that this was no ordinary tea or other such sanctioned refreshments in which they were partaking.

"Brother Muro, I feel I must make a mention of this." One of them suddenly exclaimed in a pressing tone.

"What?"

"I am of the opinion that those two are not of our following."

Brandt   smiled wryly, grasping at once the subject of their conversation being himself and Duan.

"You’ve sounded (echoed) my own suspicions, Brother Fayet,” the other interposed.

"Perhaps that is why the High Priest granted them no audience and why they were allowed only a paltry couple of night’s stay."

"I was under the impression that couple of nights, was all they had asked for." Fayet countered.

“You should know,” Muro checking his annoyance, grunted.

"It’s not as if they can’t afford a lengthier stay; their money purse is weighty enough. Pity they will miss all the major events. Come to think of it, neither showed the least bit of interest in the religious itinerary, citing pressing engagements elsewhere! What did they hope to accomplish in this short span, I mean, why bother to come at all, why not postpone it till another more opportune time?”

"I am in total agreement with you, brother Fayet; yet no orders are given to keep them under close scrutiny or any sort of surveillance. As far as I know, no one is assigned to their case.” Muro fell silent and waited for confirmation that was not long in coming.

“You are correct on that assumption. “Fayet responded with a certain air of importance. He should know; he had three or four sources that always kept him up to date with anything of importance.

“Tell you what though, I think this is a grave oversight; why the dark complexioned one, the mere mention of him makes the hair on my neck stand on end, there’s something frightfully evil and unholy about him, and certainly I am not fooled by their humble, reserved almost pious attitudes.”

 "I concur.” Muro interjected. “They look quite formidable and if I dare venture a hunch, on the prowl for something deadly. And not in the least bit interested in absolving their decidedly massive, accrued sins. And know what else?” Muro gasped, "I can't shake the feeling that they leave death and destruction in their wake. This I feel deep in my bones to be true. I only hope their bad intentions aren't in any way directed at us or at the Order, especially now that we have grown so complacent within this last decade."

"Complacent, no, it only seems that way to you perhaps. But know what; you may have something there, especially about that one. He strikes me as someone quite ruthless and bloodthirsty too." Fayet thoughtfully intoned, as he stroked the top of his head.

Astute observation, Brandt   grinned. Wonder if it is enough to save your hides?

 "As it were, I did hear something about them asking some pretty strange questions before they retired." Fayet excitedly, recalling it to mind just then, put in.

"Really, what kind of questions; and whom did they ask? I was led to believe with their disdainful air, they had hardly dispensed a word to anyone, not even to brother Cui assigned to tend to their needs."

"You know I can’t enumerate; I’m always lost on fine details.” Fayet was being coy, maddeningly so. Seeing the frown on Muro’s face, he relented. “But if you must know, I just overheard Priest Lu raising certain objections about the strangers to Priest Nui."

"Fine one you are, stringing me along than leaving me high and dry. Are you trying to teach an old dog a new trick?"

"Ha and why not? But really, Brother Muro, I am being straight. I really do not know the true extent of their questions.  If you are so curious, why don't you ask Priest Lu next time you see him."

 “You know, in all the time I've been here, I have never encountered a stranger personages as these two save for that other bunch, you remember, the one-armed man's group last year and all that deferential treatment they got, even though they’d shown up at such an unusual time.”

Their idle chatter and useless bickering had by then begun to grate on Brandt’s nerves and he was about to take his leave, when the sudden mention of the one-armed man rekindled his interest.

Brandt   leaned over and peered through the crack unseen, to get a clearer view of the two conversing monks.

“You do remember them, right? “Fayet waited to receive a nod from Muro before continuing. “But at least they were pious, and I can say it with measure of certainty, very much in earnest with their prayers; after all, they did partake in all the religious ceremonies so hastily organized on their behalf. Our discerning   Abbot sure was interested in them and I believe Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn truly did enjoy their company…particularly the one-armed elder. His Eminence Boqast Tizanzenn conversed with him endlessly it seemed, something I had not seen the Abbot do in a long, long while.  Come to think of it, not ever! I mean, he is always so reservedly serious and seeks solitude.”

To this Muro gravely nodded in concurrence. “Hmmm, as I recollect, giving in to your suspicious nature for a long spell you did entertain colorful, hilarious suppositions about them also. Is it possible you could be just as wrong now? “

“I still say there was something quite intriguing, even mysteriously fantastic about that group, more so with that golden haired youth.”  Fayet responded indignantly, irritated and even bit hurt by the other’s persistent doubt where this matter was concerned.

"Now, what was it again,” Muro with his innate sadistic nature, could not resist needling him further. “Yes, now I remember. You had based your entire hypothesis on that list and the unfounded claim that the eldest of them had inscribed on the prayer requisite form the deposed monarch, Zuronghan  Therran Valamir’s and, what other name, oh yeah, Zhon something.  Hah, and this you had supposedly uncovered despite it being carefully erased by the alleged culprit!  Really, do you still assert the claim that they were spies?"

"A fine confidant you are!” Fayet, knitting his stubby brows hotly retorted. "Why don't you just below louder and announce it to the whole world? Walls have ears you know or is it your intention to land me in serious trouble! You said you would never mention it, is this how you keep your word?"

Muro’s gaze mockingly swept the room (immediate perimeter). “You see anyone else here? three or four odd ghosts, ha, ha” He snickered, shaking his head.

 “You have always been far too paranoid brother.  All are peacefully asleep in their beds already, only a fool would be out of a warm bed at this time of night when they don't have to be." Observing the other’s rising foul mood however, he relented.

 "Oh, why be so touchy, brother? I was just toying with you."  In a serious tone then he quickly added. "Besides, you know as well as I, nothing further came of it." 

At this juncture (point in time) Brandt, stepping out from the shadows turned the knob, brazenly walked in and said, “That remains to be seen.”

The startled Fayet and Muro both jumped up, spilling the contents of their cups.

"Oh, it's you, sir.” Muro, recognizing Brandt, quickly found his tongue.

Fayet getting a grip was about to coolly castigate (rebuke) this rude intrusion when Brandt’s poignant look promptly silenced him.

Concealing his contempt for the two for more can be attained by a glib tongue; Brandt   in the next instant however, sporting a wry grin (false smile), somewhat congenially, accosted them and extended his polite greetings, as well, his seemingly sincere apologies for the sudden intrusion that had inadvertently alarmed them. Then getting right to the point, he asked, "Please do not be offended but, though I did not mean to, I’ve accidentally overheard the singular topic of your conversation regarding the one-armed man.” His blunt speech had left no room for denial.

  “Be assured that this information shall be kept in the strictest confidence.” smiling, in a more conciliatory tone he then quickly added. “It so happens that I am searching for one such person. But first, may I inquire after the one-armed gentleman's name so as to be absolutely ascertained that we are speaking of the same being."  He paused for a response that was not forthcoming, checking his rile nevertheless, he sternly added, "The individual I am seeking is named Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon".

 Though he had observed the slight discoloration in Fayet’s face (cheeks), Muro had been far better at masking his shock and threw Brandt   a curious, stupefied look, as if to say, “Have I heard you right?”

Brandt   disregarding this, in an even tone asked further, “More importantly, may I inquire how long ago the visitors been at these premises, and upon their departure which direction did they take? I am disposed to showing my proper appreciation as well my discretion, for any such useful information either of you gentle monks may deign to impart."  His hand rested on the bulge in his garment where his money purse rested.

What a gall! What nerve! Muro thought. Barging in here without shame, blatantly playing a cat and mouse game with us than assuming we are bribable. After all that, am I supposed to accept that his intentions are perfectly honorable?

 Fayet inward queries were similar in nature, though slightly more selfish and deviant. How can I be certain that, after he extracts the information, he would not then expose my indiscretions, a sure violation, to my superiors? Though, I confess, the size of that purse is mighty tempting!

 In the end both had decided to play it safe. "Sir, you must have misunderstood our repartee, (banter) hmm, idle conversation. We really made no such reference to any such person.”

“I’m in agreement with my fellow monk here.” Muro quickly interjected, even though he knew it would be a futile act. “We tend to exaggerate facts during our discourse, a harmless feat really, for the purposes of spicing up the exchange. As for the name you just mentioned, you must surely jest. Was that not the traitor Lord whose name you spoke of, long since dead?"  Frowning, he added, "Besides, for your own safety's sake, you should not be stirring at this late hour so far from the guest compounds. Suppose we mistook you for a prowler and caused you unwarranted harm?"

"That's right", Fayet stupidly chimed in, "for, on top of that, at night many evil spirits are abound."

Muro turned a furious face, an unconcealed irked glare at his friend.

"Both of your concerns are touching", Brandt   mocked, "but I am most capable of defeating all manner of foe, whether it be man, ghost or goblin, so you needn't be concerned for my safety.  Now, gentle monks, please do not insult my intelligence any further with your muddled contentions and flimsy excuses. Perhaps I have not made myself perfectly clear.”  His icy tone biding no argument, sent chills down Fayet’s spine. Even Muro felt the slithering unease taking hold of his entire body. “You shall be well compensated for your troubles; as well, I mean to extend to you both, my utmost discretionary tact.”

I do so detest such arrogance.   Still with the cat out of the bag … Fayet had already begun to relent; very much tempted he was, with the promise of generous funds. Besides, if I do not take the initiative Muro surely will. Then I would feel horrible; wouldn't I, having lost this golden opportunity?  Still, I will have to exercise due caution for there is a lot at stake here. Can I do that, I wonder, and still benefit from this deal?

Here Muro differed in his contemplation, being the worldlier one of the two; meanwhile he could not shake the overwhelming sensation of peril and being trapped. Unable to decide on the right course, frightened of Fayet’s innate weakness, the two exchanged guarded, dubious looks.

Whatever the reason (cause), they both held their tongues and donned an annoyed look instead, feigning disapproval at this stranger's audacity.

Brandt, on the point of losing his patience, what had just then crossed his mind, if they had only known, would have sent more icy chills down their spine, and cast their souls to flight. 

Unlike Duan however, Brandt   knew when it was wise to constrain his murderous intent; for these temples with their strong political backers, could land him in grievous, unwarranted trouble that could hamper his cause. So, with admirable restraint, he again addressed them.

"Sirs, this pointless delay is beginning to try my patience."    This time there was no mistaking it, his insidious smile, deliberately, did not mask the vile murderous intent that had registered fleetingly in his eyes.

Fayet (assimilating this) did his best to slow his beating heart, to purge his mind of those frightful, ugly thoughts but his sallow (pale) complexioned face still contorted with fear. He opened his mouth to comply when Muro held him back by tugging at his sleeve.

"We know not of his true identity, sir, being only lowly monks, otherwise we would not have referred to him only as the one-armed man.” Muro’s indignation anew fueling his courage, he stood his ground.

“You must discretely pose your question to one more knowledgeable than we, perhaps to Prior Skceno.” Fayet suggested meekly, not wishing to be undone.

"Very well, then. I will trouble you no further. Good night gentle monks."  With that, Brandt   turned to go.

All the blood in his veins rushed hotly to Fayet's face. He now regretted his hasty lie, having come this close to receiving the sum of money. What was I thinking of? Is not this fear imagined? This is a fortuitous blessing that Muro and I stood to gain. Is there a way I wonder; can I recoup (redeem) this rare opportunity?

Fayet was a grasping man by nature, and he was now dismayed over the possibility of letting all that money slip through his fingers. Eventually he decided that all was not lost yet, he could still catch up with latter if he hastened. He on some pretext therefore quickly left his friend. But no sooner had Muro retreated inside, and his door was closed shut than Fayet with certain agility, sprang into action and rushed to accost the stranger.

In truth Brandt   had dallied with his advance, anticipating the expected outcome. Hearing Fayet’s call, Brandt   stayed his steps and half turned. Fayet straining   to maintain an even breath, hastened at once to apologize, offering a flimsy excuse for his show of hesitancy, then broaching a matter disguising the query, sought to learn the amount the stranger was willing to proffer.

 At this point Brandt   gave a sly smirk then, opening   his purse held the sum in his palm as bait. Out of earshot of Muro, Fayet sang like a bird, spilling his guts out to tell every detail he could think of, that pertained to Stark, his group and much, much more.

After Fayet finished saying all there was to say, Brandt with his contemptuous smile nodded his head and made a pretense of accidentally dropping the sum at his feet just as he was about to hand it to Fayet.

The monk was forced to bow to the stranger's feet to pick them up one by one, and when he straightened up (rose) with the collected, gleaming sum, the other had already gone.

Muro had watched this disgrace from a concealed position at some distance. Rage swelled within his chest as he shook his head in indignation at the shameful conduct of his friend. Coming forward now, he fervently grumbled at Fayet.

"How can you allow that man to humiliate you in that way?” he stormed, shaking an accusatory finger at Fayet.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"He purposefully dropped that money to make you lose face. Have you no shame?"

"No, it is you who are making things up to embarrass me. You are just jealous because I received this sum instead of you."  Fayet trembled with rage, then calmed a bit to say in a milder tone, "Brother, don't you know that I mean to give you your share?"  He drew out a small amount and offered it to Muro.

“I wouldn't touch his money even if I was destitute." Muro spat on the ground as he pushed Fayet’s hand away. He was still furious at the stranger. “Manipulations, threats weren’t enough; he had to insult you as well.”

"What did you say, Brother Muro?” Fayet pretended not to have heard.

"Oh, forget it!” Muro huffed exasperatedly as he turned to walk away.

"Hey, wait up. What is with you anyway?"  Fayet swiftly deposited the entire amount into his inner pocket, rushed to catch up with his friend.

                                                                ~

 

(END OF SECTION 1)

 

THE ORDEAL - SECTION 8

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ORDEAL- SECTION 8

IMMORTAL

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 )