THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 4

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

 THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY

SECTION 4

Before their visit to Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple, neither Teuquob nor Svein had ever smoked a pipe, let alone this type of ceremonial long pipe. At the start of all the religious ceremonies, during the compulsory cleansing ritual, cleansing of mind, body and soul - in a special room a selected group, including Svein and Teuquiob, were on this day, gathered around a blazing fire.  The prayers duly invoked, the long pipe containing a very specific herbal concoction next was passed round. 

Smoke within and without, filling the contained, restricted airspace had an almost hypnotic effect on those present, ultimately reducing all inhibitions and releasing the constraints of heart and mind. Under these circumstances, a young man with fire in his veins, his innermost desires barely contained, Svein had once, momentarily losing his composure (natural reserve), had fervently gazed at Teuquob, to the exclusion of all else around him.  Sensing the intensity of his feelings, her eyes had been drawn to meet his; consequently, both had been terribly embarrassed and the wash of red visibly spread over (stained) their cheeks.  Stark was relieved to see that this slight infringement (seeming incest) had gone unnoticed in the hall that was dimly lit, save for Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, who gave Stark a knowing wink and a lenient smile (grin).

                                                                         ~

 Following three to five days Stark, Svein and Teuquob had spent much of their time diligently offering suitable prayers to deities, burning incense and making sacrifices to their (seemingly same but cleverly disguised, respective) ancestors. 

His Eminence Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, extending his courtesy, frequently made himself available to guide, direct or simply converse- extrapolating on various topics- with his alleged illustrious guests, chiefly Stark.  Now with all that hectic schedule of prayers, offerings and feasting, the (two weeks) time was simply stolen away.

Then came the paramount, most auspicious night of all-determined by the moon’s cycle, where which the principal prayers would be cited before the representation of the

“All mighty Deity Mahek” in the holiest of shrines. As a rule, in a fastidious (meticulous) religious ceremony that lasted till dawn, all three: Stark, Svein and Teuquob, were conjoined by countless trusted priests who assisted His Eminence Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn.

The thick smoke, rising from countless incense sticks, shrouded the chamber with sweet smelling, undulating clouds that entirely placated all the spirits of this world and the next, souls so emancipated, to drift in heavenly peace.  The monks’ harmonious chants, the chiming of bells and throbbing of drums, and the echoing notes of long, brass horns resounded all night long till cockcrow, reverberating throughout the holy grounds of Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple. 

Subsequent day’s prescribed ceremonies, as Svein, Teuquob and Stark prayed together they found themselves bonding closer still, as though of one heart, mind, soul and now, ancestry.

In view all these elaborate, costly ceremonies, Svein felt certain trepidation that they would not be able to meet all the expenses they were incurring. One night, sharing a private time with Stark hence, he subtly voiced this concern.  Deciding that this was neither the time or the place for appraising Svein of the longstanding, covert benefactor’s (and the elaborate network’s) feats (deeds), Stark had simply smiled and gave his assurance in a brief reply, that there were more than enough adequate funds to cover it.  Trusting Stark, Svein rested easier in mind from then on, as did monk Fayet, who had eavesdropped on the conversation.

                                                                                            ~                                                                                                                

Now that the date of their departure had been announced the monk Fayet had become even more obsequious than before in his attempt to secure a good tip from them.  This behavior irritated both Svein and Stark, to the point that they came to view Fayet as little more than a pest and tried their best to avoid having any dealings with him.  On their last night, after excusing themselves early from yet another vegetarian feast, they retired early, ostensibly to gain much needed rest for the subsequent day’s journey. 

 Instead of slumbering snug in their soft beds however, when all was quiet and all the priests, monks and novices, other than the skeleton staff required for overnight duties, were fast asleep, all three at varied intervals, one by one had snuck outside.

In the small hours, Svein unable to sleep, quietly (soundlessly) and resolutely rose from his bed and hurriedly dressed. Carrying stick of incense and paper money for the offerings, he stole through the hallways and made his way stealthily to the Amber Room which contained the shrine of the Deity of Fulfillment and Love.  Unknown to Svein, upon reaching the Amber Room, he had been spotted by Stark, who was quietly seated at the far bench.  Stark was about to accost him, when on second thought, somewhat curious, he opted to remain in the shadows. 

Disappointingly however, distracted or otherwise, Svein had failed to note Stark’s presence, a serious concern, that of which Stark would broach the subject with his nephew later. For the moment setting aside his annoyance, Stark assiduously observed Svein’s actions- as latter carefully placing the lighted incense in designated holder and then burning the paper money offerings, after his subsequent prostrations, knelt upright before the Deity and offered, blushing, his whispered request: May I be united with my beloved Teuquob in blissful matrimony in the not-too-distant future.

What Svein did not know, and could not have guessed, was that he was following directly in the footsteps of Teuquob, who had also just completed a somewhat similar request. 

During the night Stark, a naturally light sleeper, had heard her stirring outside her room and had risen and dressed, in ready anticipation of receiving her to offer usual solace.  Contrastingly however, he had heard her quietly exiting her room; charged with her safety, he’d therefore followed her to this destination.  Not wishing to cause her undue fright or embarrassment, he had though reluctantly, espied on her curious activity. After invisibly escorting her back to the safety of her room, he had then returned to the scene of event to ponder on the concern.

Long after Svein had taken his leave, Stark remained rooted at the spot, going over the night’s incident in his head. 

For a long time, he had resisted the notion of Svein and Teuquob’s union.  His Eminence had even toyed with this concept, during one of their surreptitious conferences, calling him inflexible, unyielding being, as Stark persisted on his reluctance, though in truth he was not altogether averse to the idea.

 Still, how could he in good conscience condone it, when Svein’s uncertain future discouraged any normal course of life’s events: marriage and offspring?   Presently, perhaps because he was softened by the conciliatory amber light or by this pacific, sacred place that’d encouraged the impossible or truer still, swayed by the wholesome atmosphere of chaste love and unsullied affection- that Stark (finding himself favorable disposed,) now contemplated the idea of risking the unfeasible and uniting the two in holy matrimony?

He must have subconsciously anticipated this outcome…. Stark absently nodded his head. Why else back at the mountain abode, would he have contemplated building added provisions to Svein’s quarters, heedful of Teuquob’s expressed wish to stay with them indefinitely?

Now that the decision had been finalized, Stark with lightened heart and spirit, retreated his steps back to his quarters long enough to fetch some incense and paper money. Returning to the Amber Room anew, he lighted the incense and burned the offerings before the same Deity; then going down on his knees, he put forth his frank, silent requests.

In the small hours, as Svein and Teuquob, each snug in their respective beds, with their fancies, imaginations and hopes and dreams merging into one, drifted into blissful sleep, the pernickety fate was made to yield to God’s will- and thus it come to pass that all their prayers were answered.

                                                                                    ~                                                                                

Subsequent morning Stark had another lengthy private conference with Abbot Boqast Tzaneen where which he addressed (tackled) the probability of his charge’s future union, asked for His Holiness’s advice, his blessings and his instructions regarding the (nuptial) ceremony and so forth. 

Late afternoon, Stark concluded all other unfinished business, including donating enough funds (by way of most rare, highly sought after precious metal and gemstones, fortuitously discovered within specific caverns at the mountain) to the temple to cover all incurred expenses and provide a generous gratuity to be shared among the monks.  Lastly at dusk, as he thanked monk Fayet for his trouble, he additionally pressed a very generous sum (gold ingot) into the other’s hand. 

Fayet was beside himself with delight, and his hence unceasing flattery and well-wishes, flooded their ears, exasperating Stark, but at the same time, amusing Svein and Teuquob. 

On their final day, after the lengthy farewells from Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, and then the assembled many well-wishers, Stark, Svein and Teuquob, their hearts weighed with melancholy, embarked on the long journey back to home.

As the distance was spread between them and the Heaven’s Gate Monastery, with each step, carrying contented hearts and lightened spirits, the return journey, though lengthier, (for as precautionary measure they’d adapted more circumlocutory route), it had felt much shorter, far less strenuous and dangerous.

 Before long they had reached the threshold of their home, and subsequently, returned to the happy, normal routines of secluded (remote) life.

                                                                                      ~

 (This concludes “The Trip to the Monastery”.  New adventures are unveiled in the next post, Legend of Nevetsecnuac - The Wedding.)

 

THE ORDEAL - SECTION 1

 THE ORDEAL 

 SECTION 1

 

Jiense, rather Teuquob (her actual name), had been directed to a much safer Reaog town by Ensa. Things might have turned out quite different and perhaps a bit mundane if the quirks of fate hadn’t interfered and altered her intended course.

As fantastic as it may seem when she’d reached the key juncture on the road a stray fox suddenly appearing on the spot out of thin air spooked the horse.

The terrified steed bolted, neighing, reared its front legs up high in the air, then after fiercely stomping them on the ground, shod like a projectile in full gallop in an entirely different direction. All during this most grueling, catapulting ride, though violently rocked and tossed about, as mark of her horsemanship, she’d stayed in the saddle by stubbornly clinging onto the horse’s bridle (mane).  The steed completely drenched in sweat had finally tempered his stride to a canter but by then Teuquob had lost all sense of direction and hadn’t a clue as to her whereabouts. Halting the beast on a hilltop and craning her neck, her eager gaze meticulously surveyed the open perimeter far and wide as her eyes sought to decipher or to mark a single identifiable landscape, an outlet perhaps that might correctly steer them back to their original course (destination). But after a disappointing period (spell), she had to concede to her present dire predicament: that she was utterly, hopelessly lost! Her heart laden with despair then, she lowered her head and shrugged. “So be it.”

Dismounting, she allowed the steed a brief respite wherewith to graze on the available grass; then overriding any persistent trepidation, back in saddle, she intrepidly embarked on the unpremeditated, variant direction.

She would have had a serious cause for concern however, had she known that this elected course was the very one that she’d been gravely warned against, and that come what may, from hereon, her fate fraught with danger, would be hanging in the balance with every leg of the advance.  The serpentine (meandering) route after a treacherous descent, traversed through the most perilous, immense wetland (marsh) to eventually terminate at the base of the towering foothills. Even if she were to be extremely fortunate enough to have survived the quagmire, she would then be faced with the ordeal of the dreaded foothills skirting the massive ridges of a gargantuan mountain.

It’s hard to say which projected the greatest risk: the grave topography or the carnivorous, feral beasts that were said to have inhabited the foothills and the subsequent mountain range?

The “Five Brothers” as these vast hills were called: rested at the outskirts of an ascending most treacherous, most precipitous mountain.  The monumental mountain with its sheer ridges, sharper than sharpest blades had its four peaks perpetually crowned with the white incandescent clouds; while its invisible summit reached so high that it penetrated the lower reaches of the azure heavens; hence, the name Tejunar, meaning “the eyes of Heaven”. Tejunar was so densely forested with centuries old ancient trees that in parts the sun’s rays were completely blotted out. The entire mountain range, meanwhile, was claimed “to have been inhabited” by many guardian mountain spirits that to date discouraged all or any trespassers. The staunch belief had come about over the span of years, as far too many hardy souls, hunters with mettle, gallant man and adventurers, mercenaries or diehards had lost their lives and in a terrible way too, during their bold undertaking (enterprise). The resulting colorful folktales embellished with supernatural accounts and phantasmal exploits of apparitions, goblins or evil entities had increasingly (further) fed the imagination. And so, for a decade now, despite the apparent abundance of game on this mountain range, no sane man had ever dared to violate the foreboding, deemed sacred ground, leaving the cohabitant wild beasts to roam at will and (to multiply into still greater numbers.) flourish in natural abundance.

                                                                                       ~

This be opined unfortunate or not, fate determining the way, at dusk she’d inadvertently bypassed the ‘last chance’ alternate route, to find herself (facing) encountering an increasingly inhospitable territory, that no one would ever dare venture into. Be that as it may, and this being no small feat- day after day she’d forged on- ridden, galloped or trudged on foot as they both- she and the beast, negotiated the difficult, oftentimes treacherous terrain, to cover a great distance. Only at the conclusion of each grueling day’s ride, as the darkness encroached to blanket (veil) the Earth, the bone chilling air compounded by the thrashing winds, would compel her to seek some semblance of shelter. But mindful of the din of howling, roaring beasts’ outside, in that opportune cove or an abandoned cave, she would oftentimes lie there in fetal position nestled to the small campfire, clutching the long knife- a generous gift of Ensa’s, hardly getting a wink. Cold and weary, her head riddled with cobwebs at the crack of dawn, while the horse satisfied his hunger on the abundant tall (lush) grass, she would quickly nibble on the portion of her scant rations; then once again rising to the challenge, she would hop back in saddle and take on the next plausible course.

On this day, after a long spell of riding, this is strange! Umm… the queerest thing! Just then becoming aware, she abruptly halted the nervous steed’s advance. Leaning forward she gently stroked his mane to steady him, then sitting upright once more; she cocked her head to one side and listened… She listened long and hard.

Hmm, still nothing!

To her growing unease, as she looked around, she further became cognizant of the stark, deathly silence surrounding her. Not a single leaf stirred, no insect buzzed, no birds chirped, there was no roar or a howl of any kind, no semblance (apparent) of animal life at all. No natural hum, thud or echo or pitch except that of her own breathing and the steady sounds of her mount as his hoofs nervously trod (trampled) on the reverberating ground akin to a (much like a) rhythmic drumbeat. Cast in this surreal, all pervasive, eerie atmosphere, she moreover could not shake the sensation of being espied upon.

“But by whom, by what?” She could not rightly, guess; nor did the subsequently traversed distance in the wake (aftermath) of the treacherous descent had in any way altered the persistent reality or diminish in the least the ongoing strong sensation of being avidly observed and studied perhaps by an omnipresent, intensely intrusive pair of unseen eyes.

The curious impression eventually did abate (ceased) when, after a long, grueling stretch, both the rider and the horse had suddenly and completely become gobbled-up by the dense thicket- for they had then unwittingly entered the dreaded quagmire! From hence the meandering path overgrown with weeds and brambles with many undulating pitfalls made their slow advance more laborious. Meanwhile the moisture laden air, restrictive and foul smelling, increasingly oppressed her bronchial passages. Gasping, straining for that precious breath, she led the reluctant horse by the bridle, treading wearily on the seemingly endless, soggy, slimy, uneven ground. Guided only by intuition, they had more than once barely avoided several well-disguised pitfalls, camouflaged quicksand and cloaked abysmal pools; meanwhile on the solid patches, the entwining shrubs or the ground runners unfailingly raced at every leg of the advance to maliciously mar or hinder their dauntless progress.

Her heart had oftentimes leaped to her mouth when she encountered creepy, crawly, scaly, slithering, long tapering cylindrical forms that just as quickly disappeared into the pools of stagnant water, underbrush, or simply vanished in the cavities of the earth or rock.

 In this nightmarish labyrinth with innumerable days blending with infinite nights, her sanity riding on the precipice, she’d been further burdened with the exertion of trying to handle the frightened, wayward steed that oftentimes strove to just run away from it all. Mercifully however, thus far they’d been spared from the most prevalent danger:  of being bitten by any number of the four indigenous poisonous reptiles- for one bite would have been sufficient to render any being or a beast in an instantaneous comatose state that eventually resulted in a most painful, lingering death. As it were, she only had a comparable herb, a sort of antidote in that bundle of hers, capable of averting catastrophes from insects or amphibians. And so, too fearful to stop, they’d for many a day endlessly ploughed on in this incubus maze. But anxiety had not been the sole driving force behind it all; in fact, advance had been partly made possible because of a very useful herb also fortuitously included in that medicinal pouch of hers. When chewed, the specific plant-leaves (seeds) had endowed (furnished) Teuquob with a strong stamina, keen reflexes and heightened threshold for the pain- enabling her hence, to go far beyond her limits. But at the intermittent times when the effects of the drug waned or altogether wore off (especially at the end when there were no more to be had): the mental and physical downturn, the withdrawal symptoms took a terrible physical and mental toll on her. In anticipation of a worst scenario, to prevent her falling off the mount, she’d already, by way of ropes, (fastened) secured (lower part of) her body at the waist to the saddle. But as the time wore on, even with the compliment of likewise ingested herbs, her endurance notwithstanding, she’d subsequently suffered the partial loss of feeling and sensation in her limbs, arms and legs. Meanwhile numbed to the core, her mind had often wondered wildly, reeling through picturesque, fantastic imagery in the atmospheric surreal dream-state.

It was no small miracle indeed, when unexpectedly one day, nearing dusk, both rider and the mount had suddenly found themselves at the periphery, and so somewhat unscathed, emerged from this dangerous trammel and deadly snare. With resurgent zeal the mount had pushed forward then, till he’d reached a safer clearing. Coming to, she’d barely managed to untie the knots and letting go, slid off the horse plump collapsing on the hard ground. After an undetermined time, she’d regained full consciousness; delighted by the refreshing change from the traversed slimy, soggy base- arms outstretched, eyes closed shut, she’d nevertheless lain there perfectly still, with only her chest cavity slightly rising and falling, as she took in a more well-earned, elongated rest under the blanket of stars. Fortunately, in all that time the noble mount (horse) had never strayed too far, grazing quietly while dutifully watching over her.

Daylight anew had brought its own variable challenges; still, nothing comparable to the ordeals just endured.

 

                                                                   ~

 

Once more back on course, with the strange sense of urgency fueling, egging them on, with the incessant riding at times in full gallop, they’d inexorably covered the inhospitable, sparsely forested and undulated steppe that seemingly had no end in sight. A mere speck on this vast landscape, this sporadically forested expanse with its intermittent gorges and valleys rising and dipping- after going over the last hump, one day she’d looked on ahead to behold the rank, forebodingly magnificent foothills. The very ones she’d been warned against! She recollected well then, Ensa’s imparted knowledge, relayed mostly by way of diagrams: How the wide band of infamous foothills skirted the eastern side of the mountain range… beyond which lay a far steeper climb.

06

She sighed, anticipating grater hardships still but fought the feeling of trepidation like a talon that had anew gripped her heart.  For what other choice did she have? After a dismissive shrug, she exhaled a deep expunging breath. Oh well, with ‘Heaven’s’ help she’d survived thus far; if it’s so ordained, notwithstanding prevalent dangers, she’ll yet again persevere!

“There’s no turning back now, hope you’re up to it old-boy!” She leaned forward and whispered into the horse’s ear as she affectionately patted the side of his neck. Besides, she’d been drawn to the majestic mountain range for an added reason:

For a long time hence, even before she’d parted from Ensa’s care, she’d nurtured an inner desire, born out of her desperate circumstance- to encounter, to chance upon a place of worship, a monastery or a lonely recluse’s hut. The dizzying heights of the summits with their proximity to the Heavens would be an ideal setting for such.  She anticipated that, there, as in her country, the mountain range would be a beacon of sorts, propelling, attracting pious beings of various religious sects or hermits, all irrespectively seeking sublime sanctuary.  Indeed, this had been at the root of her tenacity, the driving force for overcoming such incredible odds.

                                                                ~

Succeeding days, with renewed zeal, she’d relentlessly forged on through the foothills towards the gargantuan mountain range, even though the precariously hung, meandering, scantily viable (feasible) path overgrown with climbers, brambles, thorns and loose boulders, with swift flowing streams presented a daunting challenge, at times quite impossible to traverse. Meanwhile her concentration was so intently focused on the task at hand that she’d in the interim had remained deliberately oblivious to the resurgent eerie atmosphere that had for quite some time now, for lack of a better word, dogged (plagued) her.

The all-encompassing silence had of course re-surfaced (revived) shortly after she’d emerged from the quagmire, and well before she’d found herself at the periphery of the foothills. Brushing this distraction aside, she’d intentionally abstained from questioning this bizarre happenstance; for inwardly she’d deemed it a blessing from “Heaven”, especially since enveloped rather cocooned, in this somewhat protective supernatural milieu- and so spared from the worldly concerns of danger from predatory beasts- she’d been able to better advance, and be at liberty to collect water from the occasional stream, gather berries, nuts, roots and other such edible foods for sustenance.

Leaving it to the caprice of “Nature”, the only manifest difficulty meanwhile, stemmed from the tempestuous weather. For even on a relatively good day, she could suddenly become drenched with an unexpected downpour or be engulfed in precipitate murk, mist or haze; or enshrouded in dust-clouds (dust particulate matter) by the ever vigilant, gusting, thrashing winds that completely obscured all visibility. As it were the bone chilling frigid temperatures of the evenings contrasted greatly with the dampness of the morning dews and the stifling heat of the noontime- this being still the summer season. To survive the frigid temperatures of the nights she would don over her man’s attire the so-called waterproofed (waxed) jacket that Ensa had provided. But periodically when even this seemed inadequate, she would further cover herself with branches laden with leaves or moss as she huddled her body in protective corners of abandoned caves or coves. And when her footwear overtime became too threadbare, adept in ways of surviving, she’d resourcefully used strips cut from her generous portions of clothing to reinforce the soles for an added protection.  Nevertheless, in this harsh environment the cruel elements still taking their toll, her lovely hands in due course had become painfully chaffed, as did her arms and legs that now bore countless scratches and cuts. Added to this asperity was the resurgent odd feeling (a hunch) of again being watched (observed) by a pair of unseen eyes that were neither human nor beast!

Periodically, she would even perceive an acute sense of being threatened by it; but in the absence of manifest danger, gradually she’d become more curious and less fearful of the entity that of which never straying too far persistently stalked her. And so, when darkness blanketed the earth, she took solace by dwelling on this unseen constant companion and even at times outwardly conversed with it before falling asleep.

Once at midday after consuming her meager rations of food she’d been resting quietly with her back leaned against an ancient tree when just then she spotted a strange, bizarre creature crouched on an overhead rock up ahead. As she’d blinked and stirred, it’d instantaneously disappeared into thin air. Nor had this been the only such sighting of the mysterious, clearly supernatural entity… She could not rightly say whether it’d happened in a dream state or not, but on another occasion, late in the evening she’d suddenly been startled awake by a sensation of being touched or groped.  Bent on confronting this intrusive, phantom companion, on the subsequent nights she’d feigned being asleep and duly waited; and sure enough, on the fourth or fifth turn, well into the night as she’d remained dormant, something resembling a fox, a furry creature of sorts, had warily (guardedly) drawn quite near to sniff then prod her. Assuming that this was not a dangerous apparition, she was about to spring forth to grab hold, when unfortunately, just then, the ever-vigilant steed raising quite a ruckus, thwarted her aim. Nor did she ever gain another such chance, as each night thence; the moment she’d laid her head down, an unnatural (unholy) deep slumber at once overtook her.

                                                                                                     ~

 (End of Section 1)

(MORE EXCITING EVENTS WILL UNFOLD IN THE NEXT POST OF THE ORDEAL -SECTION 2)