THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 7

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 7

 Unarmed Brandt intrepidly faced Stark and then pointing to Duan's corpse, tersely exclaimed, "Incriminating as this may seem, it affected the desired purpose. Heretofore I had to go along, to earn his trust, knowing he would lead me to you both.  And I had to make it look good during the fight so as to disarm him and gain such an opportunity to assist your Lordship, Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon?”

On saying this Brandt   gave another respectful, though a bit more flamboyant bow to Stark.

Svein, taken by surprise, turned his questioning, hurtful eyes on his uncle:  Asger?  Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon?  Is that who you really are? If so, why have you seen fit to keep this from me in all this time and after all we’ve been through? 

Mindful of Svein's stare, Asger's cold, stanch gaze remained affixed on Brandt.

"If my words prove to be false or misleading, my Lord, you may then consign me to the sword, and I will not cry out of any injustice."  Brandt   paused to cough lightly, clearing his throat, and then continued, "My Lord, I would like to first declare my undying loyalty and allegiance to our late sovereign, Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir and his supporters.  I solemnly swear on my honor and on my ancestor’s grave, to the validity of my claim.”

 In his heart of hearts Brandt   hoped his father and his ancestors would forgive him of this very necessary falsehood! As it were, it had taken all his willpower not to have (choked) gagged on his asserted (avowed), sham oath.  His eyes did not blink staring straight at Lord Asger’s, nor did his earnest tone waver, when he next explained, "I had not chosen to accompany this notorious assassin by (accident) chance, my Lord.”

He paused and then smiled disarmingly, desiring to elicit suspense.  “I was entrusted with this task and pursued this difficult course at the urging of Lord Shonne Gulbrand, when His Lordship had received word from the capital that proper authorities clandestinely had enlisted this assassin Duan to track and murder, your esteemed self. Up until then, the precursors of Duan had presented no real danger and had required no such course of action (drastic recourse)."

Brandt’s reference to Lord Shonne Gulbrand would have easily been dismissed by Svein, had it not been for the slight change in Stark’s (Asger’s) coloration that instigated (incurred) his curiosity.

Perhaps this was unperceived or simply overlooked by Brandt who’d unceasingly continued with his accounts, “I’d pursued Duan covertly for day and a half, until one evening I fell into his adroit ambush.  At sword point I was forced to concoct a convincing tale, chiefly that I too, was dispatched by the authorities, to observe and if need be, fight alongside him for this mission’s success. Lord Shonne Gulbrand with his foresight and seeing to every detail had fortunately furnished me with official looking forgeries. Duan was outraged and threatened to kill me at first, but on a moment's reflection, he stayed his sword poised to strike at my throat and asked to see my credentials plus these so-called instructions.  After brief scrutiny he was ascertained of their authenticity and begrudgingly consented to my company. For reasons known only to him however, he kept the documents on him, in the inner pocket of his upper garment. If you fetch them, these false documents at least will verify part of my story.”

Brandt   had altered the truth only slightly, in fact both Duan and he had been from the very start secretly dispatched from the capital by Lady Lingrace.  She had seen to every possible contingency and provided Brandt   with the documents.  Neither Emperor nor Lord Shonne Gulbrand had anything to do with it.  Her ladyship had insisted Brandt   accompany Duan on this task, and Duan after demanding more payment to compensate for this weak link, had reluctantly agreed to it.

A nod from Stark (Asger) sent Svein over to Duan’s corpse; his upper garment had been discarded during the intense fight, some time prior to his eventual death.  After a brief search, Svein returned with the waxed leather case and handed it over to his uncle. Svein (Asger) kept a close eye on Brandt, as he, after removing the airtight outer casing, briefly examined (perused) the contents of it. Somewhat satisfied, Stark (Asger) simply tucked them away in his side-pocket.

 “You may continue.”  He next commanded Brandt, with still cold indifference.

Brandt   had only guessed where Duan had kept the papers.  Fortunately, they had survived destruction from the slashes of the intense fighting earlier on.

"For over two years, my Lord,” Brandt   pleased with the outcome, continued in earnest.  “I remained undaunted by countless obstacles and hardships that villain had put me through. He left a bloody trail behind of unimaginable horrors. All the while, he took such perverse pleasure at my sufferings.” He closed his eyes fleetingly then shook his head as if to purge dreaded images from his mind.

“I had to adapt my Lord, had to be more like him, till eventually, I gained his confidence and thereafter I gleaned through observance or from whatever few civil words he cast my way, some insight into his strengths and weaknesses.  Do not judge me too harshly my Lord; for had I not timely interceded, albeit in perceived treasonous manner, I'm afraid that competent as you both are, hmm.” Brandt   hesitated for a moment, before putting it more delicately.

 “Let us say, Your Lordship had not yet seen his utmost capacity. He was only toying, biding his time till he unleashed his worst on you both.  Had he chosen to flee…?” Brandt   shook his head dourly.  “Oh, I’ve seen him (in a flash) instantaneously disappear into thin air.  Had he done that and then descended upon your Lordship and company later, the inexorable dire consequences would have indeed weighed heavily on my conscience.  My Lord, he could move like the devil's wind on treetops or through earth, sand and snow leaving no tracks to follow him by.” He looked up squarely at Asger.

"Surely now, your lordship can understand the necessity for all my prior deceit and alleged, dishonorable conduct."

Stark (Asger) was not at all swayed by this remarkable performance; moreover, he suspected Brandt of being far shrewder and wilier an adversary than he led on.

“Hmm, the gravity of our situation (precarious existence) is further burgeoned by the fact that these two has done the impossible; they have succeeded in where that Usurper with all his resources and manpower has failed to do in twenty years.  And why Lord Shonne Gulbrand, why pick him?”   With a stone face, Stark (Asger) inwardly pondered.

As it were, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, because of the scrutiny from Capital lasting till present, for both their sakes, had remained quite out of touch with Asger or any other existing insurgent groups.

“Yet now he would risk all, undertaking such a perilous feat?” Stark further mused.

His eyes piercing Brandt’s, hmm, he may or may not have accomplices. Stark studied Brandt, while on the outset seemingly taken in, assiduously listened to the rest of latter’s yarn.

This close call had nevertheless, warranted caution and in order to obtain further pertinent data, Stark (Asger) needed time to at length interrogate (grill, probe) this albeit cunning and definitely sly adversary.  Well before this undertaking, however, he needed first to clarify a few more specifics.

"I am inclined to believe you sir. “Stark (Asger), breaking his silence, injected thoughtfully.  "Still, what further proof can you present to win my confidence?"

"That has already been arranged, my Lord.” Brandt   complied respectfully and bluffed.  "After Lord Shonne Gulbrand had assisted your esteemed self's escape, he had, with due discretion, dispensed the necessary funds and manpower to procure the other of your twin swords before it fell into the enemy hands.” Inwardly elated Brandt   congratulated himself, for his quick thinking and postulation (conjecture).  

Lack of any reaction, adverse or otherwise, on Asger’s part had reaffirmed Brandt’s longstanding hypothesis. So, Lord Shonne Gulbrand had a definite hand in Asger’s escape after all!   

Outwardly, meanwhile, Brandt maintained an even tone and continued without cessation.  “His Lordship had done this, with the utmost confidence that one day when the time was ripe; he would present it to your Lordship, perhaps upon your next meeting.” He halted his narrative with a barely discernible hint of a query in his tone.

No? No reaction, none? So, there has been no contact with Lord Shonee Gulbrand since then. Good!

With confidence now, Brandt added. “When it became necessary to send me on this errand however, he entrusted it to me as a means of winning your Lordship's confidence.”

That’s highly unlikely! Stark mused, while pretending to acquiesce.

 “Please examine the sword that now lies on the ground.  I dare not make a move to procure it, lest you’re Lordship and your respected nephew here suspects me of a ruse."  Having said this, he looked directly at Svein with a certain glint in his eyes, a slight semblance of a dare, as he artlessly donned an infuriating, bemused smile.

"There is no need to examine it”, came Stark’s (Asger's) icy response.

 "Svein, please be good enough to retrieve it for me."

"Don't trust him, Uncle.” Svein murmured a warning as he, (recovering it,) handed over the sword.

 Stark (Asger) merely grunted his concurrence then, oblivious to the raging snowstorm, continued to interrogate Brandt further with more penetrating questions. After a time, Asger, seemingly satisfied with Brandt’s responses, appeared by degrees more accepting of Brandt.

 In this entire time, obliging as Brandt was with his answers, not being as hardy (resilient) as Stark and Svein, he had gradually succumbed to the effects of fatigue and cold.

At first, Brandt’s complexion progressively paled; the next instant, in mid-sentence his face gone completely ashen, he’d faltered, swayed on his feet and simply collapsed face down onto the ground already cushioned with thick layer of fresh snow.

 Svein darted over to Brandt’s side. Crouching over the body, he turned Brandt   over and brushed off the snow before examining   Brandt’s vital signs.  Brandt   was clearly unconscious, however still suspecting a ruse; he guardedly examined Brandt’s apparent injuries.  He did have a few serious bruises, lacerations, slight frostbite in fingers and a big bulge, sort of swelling (lump) on top of the head, underneath that mop of hair.

“I suppose the combat, contusion, the strain of inquiry and the elements were all in all too much for him!”  Svein with an air of disdain concluded his findings. 

Stark’s (Asger’s) cursory examination of Brandt’s discarded stiletto (dagger) meanwhile had revealed that the blade had predictably been laced with a rare but very potent poison. Asger’s mind had at once recalled another such incident where this poison had been used with equally dire consequences. 

Concealing his unease however, Stark (Asger) simply nodded; then on his directive, Svein hauled Brandt   over his back and followed his uncle to the stables.

There, they found a comfortable spot for Brandt   to lie, well away from the horse, where they had kept some of the (non-essential) winter supplies. They lit a brazier and stacked it with wood to make sure it would last out the night, then fetching the medicine and such, Asger with due diligence tended to Brandt’s wounds, while Svein at the outside secured both Brandt and Duan’s horses and after a cursory scrub housed them also in the stables alongside Fiery Comet. 

Stark (Asger) had scant reaction to Svein’s subsequent news, that judging by the obvious tracks, Duan’s corpse had already been swiftly carted away by pack of wolves, (if not some hungry predatory beasts); therefore, negating any necessity of a proper burial or pursuit of the remains. 

                                                                                                

                                                                       ~

 

(END OF SECTION 7)

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 6

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 6

Outside the cabin the ongoing combat by degrees had further intensified. Now they had as well the sudden snowstorm to contend with. The blinding swirls in part aided Svein and Stark who were adept at fighting in all kinds of weather.

Unfortunately for Brandt, already impeded by the erupting gusts of wind and snow, he failed to intercept a lightning   strike from the side and so was catapulted off his feet.

With Brandt’s sword flying from his hand, his body next in a headlong thrust was projected through the air straight at the thick trunk of an ancient tree. The severity of the hit immediately rendered him unconscious.   After a spell when he came to, the fighting had fortuitously steered well away from his position. 

Everyone being too preoccupied with the deadly struggle, none had noted his regaining   consciousness. Seizing this opportunity, as his head throbbed anyhow and stars still danced before his eyes, besides which his body having taken quite a beating ached all over- Brandt   closed his eyes and remained perfectly still where he lay. His intent was to purloin (pilfer) some time to consider his options while he regained his full faculties and strength. 

Brandt’s subsequent stealthy observance revealed that Duan ‘s discarded sword with a broken blade lay to the side as Duan presently was using Brandt’s own sword.

Blue streaks of icy light flashed from the fierce clashes of the twin swords, engaged by opposite forces.  On each turn one blocked the other's assaults effortlessly.

Brandt   seethed in contemptuous rage as he noted how despite Stark’s apparent impediment- fresh blood from the previous wounds being ripped apart, in conjunction with the newly incurred ones increasingly soaking the bandages- latter still fought with incessant (relentless, constant), enduring strength, skill and agility.  Meanwhile the young one’s prowess was something akin to legendary warriors. Periodically the three would be locked in such a fierce, deadly combat of such dizzying speed, that the assaults and defensives became barely visible to the naked eye in that whirling wall of wind, blades, snow and debris.

Oh, such a feat, a truly spectacular (outstanding) sight! Witnessing these near fatal clashes and murderous charges, Brandt   despite himself, for a spell, had remained in awe of their brilliant magnificence.

His abhorrence of the nemesis was such, however, that all too quickly his face darkened, when he rebounded from this temporary sense of wonderment. 

Blast him! Brandt   presently bit his lip and cursed under his breath, as his covert focus once again was affixed on Stark.  Wounded and old, yet the fiend still fights with the strength of a hundred men.  No doubt he is aided by demons! Hmmm…This remarkable youth and he, together they represented an invincible (unbeatable) force; but perhaps individually, he inwardly concurred: yes, individually they could be bested.

It was at this point, recalling an old axiom about the two fighting tigers, that the very solution hit (struck) Brandt: his would be subsequent course of action, the only plausible option. Brandt’s heart more at peace now, he closed his eyes in respite. He would wait out the fighting tigers till they wore each other out.

Furiously however, it had continued seemingly endlessly, with the same vigor (dynamism, energy) and intensity. Though the contenders had by then divested themselves of most of their garments which now lay scattered about on the ground, and the biting winds had picked up to form rime (hoarfrost) on their hair, rivulets of sweat still ran down their foreheads, cheeks and over their bare chests.

Brandt   while remaining   perfectly still and, waiting for this stalemate to end, with hypnotic force of his mind had effectively blocked out the ravages of the cold from affecting his body.  But another sort of danger was creeping in, for the scent of warm blood fresh from the combatants’ wounds intermingling with sweat had attracted countless glowing eyes in the thick bushes around the clearing.  Saliva dripping from their mouths the hungry pack of wolves waited patiently for a chance to strike (and devour the resulting, wounded prey).

Brandt felt as though he would burst stealthily observing how Duan breathed hot, venomous vapors from his nostrils as he wielded his sword with colossal (enormous) lethal force; yet each strike was deflected with such maddening   equanimity.  With no visible signs of strain or slowing down, both Svein and Stark kept up with their consistent fighting and superb assault and offensives. 

Blast! Brandt   seethed (fumed) considering this chink (unexpected turn) in his otherwise plausible plan.  Duan should have bested them by then or at least weakened them, but the fiend had finally met his match.

                                                                   ~

 Stark had detected (been aware) the precise moment Brandt had regained consciousness (lucid state) then later still, noted latter’s subsequent deception (the façade). Mulling over the possible reasons Stark had kept a furtive eye on Brandt while he fought on then, deferring this concern for the more impending ploy, at a specific point in time drawing near to Svein, Stark shouted out a foreign sounding word to him.

 Following Svein’s barely discernible nod (his acquiescence) the swift coordinated assaults executed with such brilliant exactitude, once more forced Duan to shift to the defensive. Whilst he was being kept at bay, at an opportune moment at lightning speed Svein and Stark exchanged their weapons.

Presently, with his innate agility and speed, wielding the ancestor sword, Svein became even more indomitable (invincible).  Temporarily cast in dire straits, Duan summoned his most intrinsic powers and incredible zeal, however, to just barely stand his ground.

                                                                                      ~

 All this time while remaining perfectly motionless, Brandt, his intense loathing of Stark fueling his resolve racked his brains till, he finally (hatched) arrived at the only plausible way to bring about a swift resolution to this maddening impasse. Mindful of the two poisoned stilettos concealed in the seams of his leather boots, he then biding his time, waited for an apt opportunity.

When the fighting eventually drew closer in proximity to Brandt, taking advantage of the fact that Duan’s total attention was focused on fending Svein and Stark’s synchronized, choreographed attacks, Brandt   nimbly sprung to his feet and rushed forth to with a lightening   thrust bury his stiletto (blade) deep into and up Duan's back.

"Damn your treachery!” Duan’s rancorous side glance pinpointing Brandt, he gasped.  “You’ll pay for this!” he licked the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth; but his malicious intent was interrupted when Brandt   nimbly veered, and instead, Svein’s deadly strike finding its mark, cut a line clear across (sliced right through) Duan’s chest and stomach.  Duan staggered on his feet for a second, then fell to the ground lifeless, his eyes bulging open and his mouth gaping with curses still frozen on his lips.  Covered in blood, his innards dangling, he looked (represented) a most gruesome sight. 

Brandt   with his bloody stiletto still poised to strike, in a surprise move just then, had adroitly jumped back way clear of the circle of combat and stood there defensively facing Svein.

"What's the meaning of this?” Stark raged at Brandt, effectively blocking Svein’s scathing rebuke.

"Let me finish him off, Uncle; his ruse is too obvious."” Svein glared at Brandt.  I’ve met him before, on my last trip to town, and trust me on this; he is no friend but a foe.”

 

"Sir, I beseech you.  Hear what I have to say, before condemning me." Brandt   interposed in a respectful, yet forceful tone, facing Stark while monitoring Svein from the corner of his eye. His conciliatory gesture of throwing his weapon aside at odds with his wry grin, he now grumbled. "Please allow me this opportunity to explain."

"Speak up, then!” Stark shouted sternly (austerely).

With a great show, Brandt bowed then crossed his clenched fists across his chest in show of humility, knowing that Stark, an honorable man by reputation, would not harm or allow another (Svein) to bring harm to an unarmed man.

 

(END OF SECTION 6)

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 6

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 6

Outside the cabin the ongoing combat by degrees had further intensified. Now they had as well the sudden snowstorm to contend with. The blinding swirls in part aided Svein and Stark who were adept at fighting in all kinds of weather.

Unfortunately for Brandt, already impeded by the erupting gusts of wind and snow, he failed to intercept a lightning   strike from the side and so was catapulted off his feet.

With Brandt’s sword flying from his hand, his body next in a headlong thrust was projected through the air straight at the thick trunk of an ancient tree. The severity of the hit immediately rendered him unconscious.   After a spell when he came to, the fighting had fortuitously steered well away from his position. 

Everyone being too preoccupied with the deadly struggle, none had noted his regaining   consciousness. Seizing this opportunity, as his head throbbed anyhow and stars still danced before his eyes, besides which his body having taken quite a beating ached all over- Brandt   closed his eyes and remained perfectly still where he lay. His intent was to purloin (pilfer) some time to consider his options while he regained his full faculties and strength. 

Brandt’s subsequent stealthy observance revealed that Duan ‘s discarded sword with a broken blade lay to the side as Duan presently was using Brandt’s own sword.

Blue streaks of icy light flashed from the fierce clashes of the twin swords, engaged by opposite forces.  On each turn one blocked the other's assaults effortlessly.

Brandt   seethed in contemptuous rage as he noted how despite Stark’s apparent impediment- fresh blood from the previous wounds being ripped apart, in conjunction with the newly incurred ones increasingly soaking the bandages- latter still fought with incessant (relentless, constant), enduring strength, skill and agility.  Meanwhile the young one’s prowess was something akin to legendary warriors. Periodically the three would be locked in such a fierce, deadly combat of such dizzying speed, that the assaults and defensives became barely visible to the naked eye in that whirling wall of wind, blades, snow and debris.

Oh, such a feat, a truly spectacular (outstanding) sight! Witnessing these near fatal clashes and murderous charges, Brandt   despite himself, for a spell, had remained in awe of their brilliant magnificence.

His abhorrence of the nemesis was such, however, that all too quickly his face darkened, when he rebounded from this temporary sense of wonderment. 

Blast him! Brandt   presently bit his lip and cursed under his breath, as his covert focus once again was affixed on Stark.  Wounded and old, yet the fiend still fights with the strength of a hundred men.  No doubt he is aided by demons! Hmmm…This remarkable youth and he, together they represented an invincible (unbeatable) force; but perhaps individually, he inwardly concurred: yes, individually they could be bested.

It was at this point, recalling an old axiom about the two fighting tigers, that the very solution hit (struck) Brandt: his would be subsequent course of action, the only plausible option. Brandt’s heart more at peace now, he closed his eyes in respite. He would wait out the fighting tigers till they wore each other out.

Furiously however, it had continued seemingly endlessly, with the same vigor (dynamism, energy) and intensity. Though the contenders had by then divested themselves of most of their garments which now lay scattered about on the ground, and the biting winds had picked up to form rime (hoarfrost) on their hair, rivulets of sweat still ran down their foreheads, cheeks and over their bare chests.

Brandt   while remaining   perfectly still and, waiting for this stalemate to end, with hypnotic force of his mind had effectively blocked out the ravages of the cold from affecting his body.  But another sort of danger was creeping in, for the scent of warm blood fresh from the combatants’ wounds intermingling with sweat had attracted countless glowing eyes in the thick bushes around the clearing.  Saliva dripping from their mouths the hungry pack of wolves waited patiently for a chance to strike (and devour the resulting, wounded prey).

Brandt felt as though he would burst stealthily observing how Duan breathed hot, venomous vapors from his nostrils as he wielded his sword with colossal (enormous) lethal force; yet each strike was deflected with such maddening   equanimity.  With no visible signs of strain or slowing down, both Svein and Stark kept up with their consistent fighting and superb assault and offensives. 

Blast! Brandt   seethed (fumed) considering this chink (unexpected turn) in his otherwise plausible plan.  Duan should have bested them by then or at least weakened them, but the fiend had finally met his match.

                                                                   ~

 Stark had detected (been aware) the precise moment Brandt had regained consciousness (lucid state) then later still, noted latter’s subsequent deception (the façade). Mulling over the possible reasons Stark had kept a furtive eye on Brandt while he fought on then, deferring this concern for the more impending ploy, at a specific point in time drawing near to Svein, Stark shouted out a foreign sounding word to him.

 Following Svein’s barely discernible nod (his acquiescence) the swift coordinated assaults executed with such brilliant exactitude, once more forced Duan to shift to the defensive. Whilst he was being kept at bay, at an opportune moment at lightning speed Svein and Stark exchanged their weapons.

Presently, with his innate agility and speed, wielding the ancestor sword, Svein became even more indomitable (invincible).  Temporarily cast in dire straits, Duan summoned his most intrinsic powers and incredible zeal, however, to just barely stand his ground.

                                                                                     ~

 All this time while remaining perfectly motionless, Brandt, his intense loathing of Stark fueling his resolve racked his brains till, he finally (hatched) arrived at the only plausible way to bring about a swift resolution to this maddening impasse. Mindful of the two poisoned stilettos concealed in the seams of his leather boots, he then biding his time, waited for an apt opportunity.

When the fighting eventually drew closer in proximity to Brandt, taking advantage of the fact that Duan’s total attention was focused on fending Svein and Stark’s synchronized, choreographed attacks, Brandt   nimbly sprung to his feet and rushed forth to with a lightening   thrust bury his stiletto (blade) deep into and up Duan's back.

"Damn your treachery!” Duan’s rancorous side glance pinpointing Brandt, he gasped.  “You’ll pay for this!” he licked the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth; but his malicious intent was interrupted when Brandt   nimbly veered, and instead, Svein’s deadly strike finding its mark, cut a line clear across (sliced right through) Duan’s chest and stomach.  Duan staggered on his feet for a second, then fell to the ground lifeless, his eyes bulging open and his mouth gaping with curses still frozen on his lips.  Covered in blood, his innards dangling, he looked (represented) a most gruesome sight. 

Brandt   with his bloody stiletto still poised to strike, in a surprise move just then, had adroitly jumped back way clear of the circle of combat and stood there defensively facing Svein.

"What's the meaning of this?” Stark raged at Brandt, effectively blocking Svein’s scathing rebuke.

"Let me finish him off, Uncle; his ruse is too obvious."” Svein glared at Brandt.  I’ve met him before, on my last trip to town, and trust me on this; he is no friend but a foe.”

"Sir, I beseech you.  Hear what I have to say, before condemning me." Brandt   interposed in a respectful, yet forceful tone, facing Stark while monitoring Svein from the corner of his eye. His conciliatory gesture of throwing his weapon aside at odds with his wry grin, he now grumbled. "Please allow me this opportunity to explain."

"Speak up, then!” Stark shouted sternly (austerely).

With a great show, Brandt bowed then crossed his clenched fists across his chest in show of humility, knowing that Stark, an honorable man by reputation, would not harm or allow another (Svein) to bring harm to an unarmed man.

(END OF SECTION 6)

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 4

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 4

 Rising before dawn as usual Stark and the rest had diligently worked to discharge their mundane allocated tasks in this remote mountain dwelling. It was a particularly crisp morning with only wisps of clouds, streaking across the sky and accompanying the emerging sun that promised to shed its golden rays for the entire day.  Yet something was amiss (intuitively wrong); Svein had noted Stark’s particularly distracted mood all during breakfast, and even afterwards when they practiced the routine martial exercises, but he abstained from posing a query. Stark was grateful for this tact; nevertheless, all through practice, amidst varied, intermittent threat (menace) from marauding, voracious predators, and even afterwards as he chopped wood, he could not shake the innate foreboding, that for some time now had doggedly robbed his peace.

There is no point in putting this off any longer, and the sooner the better. Finally heeding his intuition, he buried the blade of the axe firmly in the huge stump, and picking up the last of the kindling, went inside.  At noon he would embark on a mission of reconnaissance of the expanded perimeter, while Svein stayed behind to guard his wife and their infant identical twins, boy and a girl, whom were in fact quite a handful to manage.

Thinking of them as he later packed his gear, Stark could not help but smile. Oh, what a joy they’re to have around, even though they have often robbed their parents and me of a good night’s sleep. 

Their birth had been difficult, but Teuquob had survived the ordeal stoically in the end delivering not one but two blessings from Heaven.   Subsequent month, at the private naming ceremony, they had made the appropriate offerings to the mountain God Rognar and prayed to their ancestors. The twin boy infant’s personal name had been easy to pick; Stark had suggested Alric, and both had readily acquiesced to it as it was by all accounts a very good name. The twin girl’s name selection had been just as easy, as Teuquob had chosen to bestow her own mother’s name Lueling. It was not obligatory to register surnames at this point in time; barring (with the exception of) certain circumstances, it could be delayed till after the adolescence years and at the time of rite of passage.

"Uncle, it is customary, is it not for boys to have a second personal name also? “Svein had surprised Stark, just before the formal ceremony was to take place. “I therefore wish my son’s second name to be Stark."

Stark shook his head, “Though a great honor, it’s not proper….”

Please acquiesce to it uncle, Svein hastily interrupted.”  "I can think of no one more worthy; you have cared for me all these years, been my parent, mentor and protector. I am what I am because of your due diligence and unstinting care. I owe you a debt of gratitude; please allow me this trifling gesture to repay your kindness. I have talked this over with Teuquob and we are both in agreement with this. So please accede.” 

Though Stark was very touched by this gesture, he tried few other names for Svein to use in its stead. In the end he relented and had gratefully accepted this great honor.

Personal names of twins duly registered in a book, the three then had talked joyously and feasted the remainder of the day.

                                                                                                                                                             

                                                                              ~

 At vast distance, alas, within that same mountain region (radius), Duan and Brandt   after a long grueling trek, had set up camp in a sheltered area late that afternoon to allow some well-earned respite for their mounts. Familiar with the routine, Brandt unloaded their gear and, wrinkling his nose, proceeded to smear the foul-smelling paste onto the horses, as an effective repellent to any veracious beasts. After which, he left the loosely tethered steeds grazing by a small brook where there was still some sturdy grass poking their heads through the icy ground and he began gathering dry kindling for the fire. Since their food reserves had all but gone, Brandt expected Duan to go on his usual hunt; but instead, he spotted him at some distance climbing to the apex of an ancient tree.

There with his eagle eyes Duan for some time scanned the perimeter.  Eventually he spotted at a far distance an isolated smoke neither growing nor lessening   in size curling up over the tips of a vast forest beyond the next incline.

 Descending swiftly, he then turned with an icy, scathing smile to announce that he had with measure of certainty now pinpointed (located) the prey, and that Brandt s plight was nearly over.

At least that is something! Brandt   turned his head to hide his elation and continued with his gathering of firewood (kindling, brushwood).

 

The ensuing number of days with renewed enthusiasm Brandt had relentlessly pushed on; however, in the mountains the distances were typically deceptive.  Moreover, as if to taunt Brandt’s endurance, Mother Nature repeatedly unleashed on the entire region countless fierce storms.  Day in and day out the biting winds arising from nowhere, with swirls of snow and debris flailing about, mercilessly (unmercifully) whipped (flayed) their faces. Bracing against this onslaught from the winds and the frigid temperatures, while being frequently blinded by the white veil of snow, hunching their backs and sheltering their eyes, they had relentlessly, with such dogged persistence still pressed on to cover an unbelievable distance. 

Then one day, discerning   that they were now closer in proximity to their objective, Duan drew near and patronizingly directed Brandt to from then on to remain vigilant, adding, “And no more fires; it would not do if we were to be discovered prematurely now!”

The very fact that he needed to say this irked Brandt.  He treats me like an imbecile!

Duan with his cold regard turned to squarely face him.  If the shoe fits!

After a few moments’ silence, however, Duan again dropped his pace and in a gentler voice now succinctly informed Brandt   of the tactical measures they would be adapting for their assured success.

 During that night’s rest (respite), another odd thing, they’d talked over a great many things. Distrustful of Duan’s motives, however, certain misgivings took permanent root in Brandt’s heart especially since he could not fathom the reason for Duan’s sudden civility.

Starting at first light they’d traveled for a few more days, then one afternoon Duan again scaled (climbed) an ancient tree and from the (vintage point at) top, looking this way and that, he at long last detected the certain, barely discernible dwelling in the far distance.

 Next three or four days taking great pains to cover their tracks, they had stealthily advanced in that very direction till late afternoon of the fifth day the certain clearing encircling a wooden structure came into view.

Unrelenting winds all during the day had chilled Brandt   to the very bone; presently looking up and seeing an opening   in the twilight’s azure sky as the clouds have been swept away, "Finally, luck seems to be on our side.” Brandt   optimistically whispered.  "Fate is lending us a hand."

Duan only scoffed and said nothing.

A brief time later, their presence swiftly hidden behind a huge boulder at the edge of dense forest, their mounts muzzled and tethered, they then hunkered down and waited for darkness to descend.

As darkness mantled the earth the partially cloudless sky now became speckled with stars. The reluctant, full moon, frequently took refuge behind the sparse clouds, refusing to give aid to these murderous men engaged in hasty preparations for the kill.

Howls of the distant gray wolves, roars of snow tigers and other such predatory beasts added to the drama and definite chill in the air. Like (same as) the beasts on the prowl, Duan and Brandt   lurked without the benefit of fire, as the biting cold air froze the tips of their noses and formed rime on their facial hair despite the grueling exertion.

 

Eventually all the lights in the cabin were, one by one extinguished, informing them that the unsuspecting prey had quietly retired beneath their warm quilts. This fact ascertained, Brandt   told to stay put and guard their mounts, with resentment filling his heart, he observed Duan akin to a nocturnal animal possessing a keen eyesight, stealthily advance towards the dwelling.

                                                                                    ~

 In truth, beset by a lethal set of bizarre coincidences, this past week had been particularly a grueling one for the inhabitants of the log cabin.  Moreover, three days prior, Stark had been fiercely attacked by a large pack of ravenous wolves; an unlikely event in itself but judging by the severity of the winter storms this year it was to be expected. 

Earlier on that day Stark heeded his strong hunch, and on the point of discovering the intruders’ tracks, he’d encountered instead, a marauding (prowling) voracious mountain lion and had to fend for his dear life. He’d escaped the danger by the skin of his teeth, and as his wounds were grave, he had to swiftly retrace his steps back to the cabin to get patched up.

Stark’s injuries and all serious lacerations precipitously dealt with (tended to), on his insistence when it was feasible for him to do so, Svein had gone out few times to scan the immediate perimeter for any (telltale) signs of unusual activity and portended danger. The remainder of the day they had stayed on high alert even though there’d been insufficient finding to warrant this innate concern.

This very night Stark, concealing his apprehension and strong sense of foreboding from Teuquob, had discretely abstained from taking any but the minimal medicine in order to keep his vigil.  Teuquob and Svein meanwhile had their hands full with the very active twins, as they had been unusually more irritable and difficult to handle. With everyone feeling somewhat exhausted, all the co-habitants of the Cabin had retired early. 

Svein had just closed his eyes when a slight tap on the bedroom door made him jump up. Luckily Teuquob had been too worn out to awaken. Cautiously slipping out from under the quilts, he swiftly got dressed and left the room. There was no need to inquire; Stark’s grave expression told it all.

“Good, you are dressed.” Stark drawing close whispered his instructions to Svein.  Svein nodded and quietly fetching his overcoat and sword, went outside and climbed onto the roof.  He squatted by the chimney and waited for that certain danger to manifest.

Due consideration for the welfare of infants and of Teuquob’s had curtailed Stark’s pre-emptive action of letting the fire in the fireplace die out. Besides which, the lack of smoke would have alerted the approaching nemesis.

“What’s going on?” Teuquob’s face peeked out of the bedroom door, shortly after Svein had exited the premise.

 “I wish I could respond with the word nothing; but I am not going to (fib) lie to you my dear.” Stark hastened over with his explanation.  “We are all in grave danger!”

“What can I do to assist you, sir?  I wish to fight alongside you.  I am competent enough having benefited greatly from your instructions; let me fetch my sword.”

“Hold on.” Stark grasped her arm to halt her hasty retreat into the bedroom.

 Her courage and eagerness to fight made Stark smile, despite the gravity of the situation.

 What an endearing child! You are almost as bold and foolhardy as Svein, but in this case you are no match for the peril that is out there; and far from helping, you would be a serious impediment.  Despite the shortness of time however, he addressed her calmly and tactfully, “Better you stay inside, bolt the door and valiantly guard your children.  The structure is solid and will not be easily contravened (penetrated, broken into). The windows are too narrow for anyone to go through. Hmmm.”

After a brief consideration, he then added, “For now get dressed and be on the ready; hopefully it won’t come to that, but in the event of fire or breach, you and your children must be ready to flee to the safety of the cavern as we’ve discussed earlier.”

 

                                                                   ~

 

(END OF SECTION 4)

 

THE ORDEAL - SECTION 7

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ORDEAL - SECTION 7

THE LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

 THE ORDEAL – (SECTION 7)

 The scene of devastation next morning outside of the cave that greeted their eyes, when they’d emerged from the cavern, took Teuquob’s breath away. Mokak inwardly laughed at her naiveté and anticipated surprise; outwardly however, he played along, expressing similar shock and even dismay.

The protective spell being overused of late had started having lapses in its effectiveness. On one such instance, they’d happened on a pack of wolves encircling, devouring chunks of the fresh carcass, a recent kill.

For Mokak, it was an exhilarating sight to behold: the giant canine teeth dripping with blood savagely tearing at the flesh, some of the wolves ripping off huge chunks of the raw meat from the unfortunate prey while others gorging on the bones with such gusto and fervor!  How thrilling! 

However, during this sporadic lapse, just then being detectable (visible), the Alpha Wolf had suddenly stopped, though only for a spell, looked straight at them with intense glaring eyes, showed his blood dripping fangs and (snarled) growled his dire warning to keep away or else (lest) they would be next on the menu.

“You can’t have her, she’s mine!”  Teuquob was stunned (shocked) at hearing Mokak’s barely audible words grumbled between the gnashing of his teeth, and growling.

But when she looked up, her questioning gaze was met with his wry, disarming smile, leading her to believe in the end that she’d imagined hearing it.

Of course, Mokak could have easily met the challenge of the Alpha Wolf and his entire pack, it might have even been a sport of fun, but not wishing to show his hand too prematurely, he’d responded the only way a typical human would and, albeit reluctantly, forwent the fight in supposed consideration for her safety.

                                                                                  ~

 

Days passing in swift succession, by and by their considerably long arduous trek had eventually led them to a densely forested, far steeper gradient (incline, slope) of the foothills. In due course Mokak’s unnatural unease, his clear apprehension of the water - whether it be threat of an impending rain, or an encounter with a cascading fall, a brook or a stream- indubitably became manifest. Those instances his anxiety had been so pronounced in fact that the procurement of water from thence became Teuquob’s sole responsibility.

As he clearly never bathed but was nevertheless always immaculate in body and free from any objectionable bodily odors; curiosity getting the better of her, she’d delicately broached the subject of hygiene with him. But his response had been to simply glare at her with an icy, almost hateful scorn.

He had other means of cleansing himself; water was not the only alternative source.

Later still, having thought better of it, he’d tried to make amends, but his explanation had fallen far short of any credible excuse. Especially since she’d now become acutely aware of, despite the resolute guise, his total lack of intake of water. Subsequently, his erratic temperament, compounding other such inconsistencies, had once more raised her innate suspicions.

This setback infuriated Mokak and he became more adamant in implementing sly steps for the speedier execution of this frustratingly resistant yet delectable conquest. 

At long last he’d thought he’d chosen a worthy mate that through the means of merging (encapsulation) could render him invulnerable and resistant to capture/enslavement. Truly this was the most desirable feat (option) – such as, her womb being used as a husk (pod) to allow his birth, a supposed human baby but one that would mature instantly. Maddeningly however, despite all his cunning judiciousness, she’d persisted in seeing him nothing more than a friend, a traveling companion… and loved him not, as a mate! He’d striven hard to break down her barriers, must he resort to force?

But then the blending of the two would not be as gratifying or as complete. Instead, with the lacking key ingredient, her free-willingness to submit to their union, soon after the coerced consummation or to put it bluntly, assault- instead of being pregnant, she would perish (be incinerated) and so would his implanted rudiment, much like before!

  Fortunately for her, he felt secure in this sanctified region and therefore could indulge in that rare trait, patience.

 His modified characteristics and forbearance were not to last however, for Mokak’s manifest irregularities before long, again, reinstated her innate misgivings. Mokak, now a broiling cauldron within, all the same strove hard to keep his temper in check. On the outset he maintained his placid composure and appeared most compliant. His marked sincerity, on many other feats as well, by degrees bore fruit and, he eventually succeeded in regaining her complete trust. Moreover, his constant, unstinting efforts to indulge her every whim, always making amends while employing charming, witty ways to lighten their mood, his altruistic, solicitous behavior, slowly, methodically in due course endeared him to Teuquob.

                                               

                                                                                           ~

 

They continued to hike each day covering immeasurable terrain; despite the traversed distance however, Teuquob soon become acutely aware that they had been, figuratively speaking, traveling in circles. Notwithstanding this realization, on her insistence, guided by her intuition, they presently pressed on in an entirely new direction of her choosing; but akin to being caught in a treadmill, the subsequent days of tireless trek showing minimal result, had only brought them to the lower gradient (slopes) of the majestic mountain. The rampant foliage of the next plateau proved even more hazardous for Teuquob, for the rank, fetid air strained and, at times seriously encumbered (debilitated) her lungs. Each step taken with ever increasing difficulty, she now gasped for breath and frequently halted for that much needed respite.

It was hard to gage Mokak’s stamina; Teuquob could never be entirely certain of his physical traits (attributes, vigor).

 Fortunately for her, she did not easily succumb to vertigo and fall off the precarious trail that snaked along the narrow ridges that lined the high precipices, and so doing, succumbed to the perils of the deep.  For the gorges descended so far down that the darkened bottoms greeted the very gates of hell.  Adding to this danger was now the constant, all-pervasive clamor or roaring of the wild beasts. But as if they were invisible, and you can be sure that they were, not one winged predator or land-based carnivore came forth to endanger their life or devour them!

This afforded her scant relief from the heightened senses of preservation monopolized in war with this pseudo-reality. Meanwhile her mind had gradually become clouded as the manifest reality with meshed imagery receded into convoluted, deceptive state. Her head swooned and her focus often became erratic in clarity. As though cast under the spell of some miasmic world, she fought hard to bar (prevent, block, desist) intrusive bizarre thoughts, strong urges and the mesmerizing hallucinations.

Then one day, after rounding a steep hill, they had suddenly happened on an escalating number of stone steps etched into the mountain that were partially obscured by the overgrown wild vegetation. When pursued, it had eventually led to a tall structure encased in natural rock walls with its steeples raising behind it that looked to be of a religious nature, a sanctuary of sorts. Ascending the remainder steps swiftly as they could, they had eagerly used the door-clapper and pronto, after some inquiry and shuffling of feet to and for, they were politely led in by one of the senior young acolytes that’d been guarding the gate. 

The interior grounds were deceptively large, with well-groomed trees lining the snaking pathways, open courtyards with benches for reflecting on the displayed exquisite forms of rocks or the pockets of rare flowering plants and tiny brooks- the entire structure quite immaculate and rather serene. Shown to their respective rooms by an on-duty monk, they’d been succinctly provided with the necessary requirements of comfort, clothing and sustenance. After a restful period, she and Mokak had been ushered before the reserved, pious Abbot Koe, to state their individual requirements. Even though Teuquob had no preconceived ideas about the Abbot, contrasting sharply from the resident monks, with his elongated snow-white hair and beard, cloaked in pristine white garments, the abbot presented a most striking, saintly, dignified devout figure. And when he spoke, his enunciation of words was like symphony of melodious tones, putting all present, including Teuquob’s heart, instantaneously at ease.

“No matter which path one takes, all religious denominations or ecclesiastical beliefs eventually lead to the same route”. Abbot Koe, a most understanding figure, after patiently listening to Teuquob, to her relief, nodded in the affirmative then without prejudice made certain arrangements to accommodate even her varied religious persuasions (beliefs). Subsequently, after few day’s preparations, spiritual cleansing and apt prayers, she’d been given the key opportunity to perform all the requisite sacrifices to her dearly departed mother. Furthermore, Abbot Koe, a most gracious host, had extended his invitation to her, despite the obvious absence of other female worshippers in the sanctum, to stay at the retreat as long as she wished. When she’d expressed her desire to stay for a while till, she’d regained her strength, Mokak’s expression had been unreadable. He’d for a time in silence with a blank face had simply stared at her, then turned and left without uttering a word. He was absent thereafter, but she hardly missed him as her assigned light duties kept her both interested and busy. She soon lost all track of time as this was the most beautiful, serene place, with an extensive library and a custodian elderly monk that was more than willing to educate her during her free hours.

Then one day, visited by Mokak, she was told of his private requirement. Seeking religious solitude, to fulfill his obligations, he would be enabled hence, to see or speak to her (remain in non-communication) for number of days. She was assured nevertheless, that she would be in good hands under the protective guidance of the Abbot Koe. She could be recruited into the ranks of acolytes or monks full time rather than temporary resident guest, if she so desired and from hence devote herself to religious studies. However, if this was not to her liking, she was at liberty to leave with him when he had fulfilled his religious obligations and undertook the next leg of the journey in life.

This gave her a lot to think about. As much as she liked it here, would she fit in permanently? Should she forsake her inherent (intrinsic, innate) need to see and experience what the rest of the world offered or remain here in safety and absolute bliss? For an apt decision she needed more time to consider all aspects. Meanwhile she would continue to partake in this austere nevertheless complacent religious lifestyle that combined prayers and ordinary chores regardless of one’s prior standing in life, for within the walls of sanctuary all was considered equal.

                                                                                   ~

On the second night, however, shortly after all candle lights had been extinguished and everyone settled in a blissful sleep, she had had a visitor that proved to be Chenko Haken. She could hardly believe her eyes. For one thing he appeared so different with his short hair and austere plain garments of a monk. She’d stood there, quite dumbfounded, staring at his face till the true recognition set in.

Yes, it was Chenko Haken, the lush, wavy, resplendent hair that had made him so attractive was cut short (and tapered) but his handsome features, those beautiful eyes were the same.

“Oh, Chenko Haken, I’d missed you so. I thought you’d perished in the storm (swallowed by the sea). I feared I’d never see you again!” Her eyes brimming with joyful tears, her heart bursting with emotion, forgetting herself, she’d wrapped her arms around him in a tight squeeze.

She closed her eyes with blissful happiness absorbing the warmth of his body and listening to the familiar rhythmic beatings of his excited heart. For a time nothing mattered, as if the outside world had ceased to exist with all her hopes and dreams encapsulated in this loving, endearing embrace.

“Now that I’ve found you, I shall never, ever let you go.” His assertion echoed her sentiments and thoughts. “Yes, from hereon we shall never part.” She whispered her promise in return.

Cupping her cheeks, he pinned his loving gaze into hers and same time, it had happened quite voluntarily without thought, when his tender lips met hers.

“I’m sorry.” Reality taking hold, he abruptly stepped back. “I have no right to…”

“Hush!” She placed her fingers over his lips to silence him.

“No, this is no way to behave, I beg your pardon, please forgive this transgression.” He nevertheless insisted with those hurtful eyes, which clearly waged a private war of emotions torn between morality, duty and the natural instincts of a loving being. He lowered his head abjectly and turned on his heels next to leaving, but Teuquob barring his way pleaded with him to stay. Furthermore, she insisted on knowing how he’d survived the disaster at sea, how he happened to be here and why he hadn’t come forth earlier? 

 

(END OF SECTION 7) 

                                                                                         ~

 

  (STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT POST, THE CONCLUSION OF THE ORDEAL - SECTION 8)