Showing posts with label Teuquob. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teuquob. Show all posts

Monday, 23 December 2024

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 5

THE LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 5


From his hiding place Brandt’s eyes had avidly followed Duan’s progress, only losing sight of him once or twice, but then, the full moon obligingly re-emerged as the last passing cloud drifted away to the north illuminating the grounds once more.


DUAN

Brandt just then recalling to mind, the stipulated task which he presently had neglected, he at once fetched the remainder of the foul-smelling bundle that had been set aside and quickly smeared the contents of it on the well tethered mounts. It would effectively mask the horses’ scent from any predators for two to three days hence, even though thankfully after a bout, the overwhelming pungent stench dissipated, leaving only a slight residue of pong.

Hmm, why not? Brandt   shrugged, glancing at the remainder then quickly patted it on parts of his clothes and hair. For a spell, typically, his nose wrinkled up and then he was immune. As he had every intention of joining   the fight, he grinned mischievously imagining   this to be an effective repellent not just to beasts but to man.

When the moon once more took refuge behind some dense clouds, Brandt   defiantly left his post and stealthily drew close to the cabin. His searching gaze again spotted Duan, whose swift advance had abruptly stayed (halted, arrested), by the unexpected loud disturbance arising from within the stable.


DUAN

No chance of using hay from the barn to stack up against the cabin now. Flushing them out through fire, bah! It was a stupid idea anyhow. Brandt   scoffed then grinned pondering, what other bright ideas Duan had up his sleeves.

The mount presently again, was heard neighing, prancing, and stamping his hooves on the ground, overall raising quite a ruckus to give fair warning   to his master.

Unnerved, Brandt   abandoned his stealthy advance and hastily took cover behind a cluster (group) of trees.

 “Now where in blazes is he?” Brandt   grumbled under his breath as his eyes sought Duan, for Duan had entirely disappeared from his view, and this time for good. He did not have to wait long however, when suddenly a fierce fight erupted on the rooftop of the main dwelling. Aside from the thunderous sounds of hand-to-hand combat, swords clashed repeatedly and violently, sending sparks into the night air.


DUAN FIGHTING SVEIN


You shall not rob me of glory! Brandt, hugging the shadows, darted towards the cabin. He paused only for a spell to consider the more prudent course, a sure tactical advantage that seemingly lay ahead. But it was a trap, that of which he recognized just in time, therefore escaping a certain ghastly end.

Dodging similar traps, he relentlessly pushed on and finally got within proximity to the Cabin’s doorstep (porch). Grinding his teeth and brandishing his sword, he made ready to (in rapid strides) fly over the stairs and burst inside and deal a swift deathblow to those within. But at that precise moment the cabin door flung open and the other they had sought, the one-armed fiend emerging, brandishing his sword in a single jump, landed just before Brandt   to bar (block) his way.

 “Where do you think you’re going?” He shouted at Brandt, his attention at once drawn to Brandt’s sword, as he at the same time wildly hacked at him. Brandt ’s eyes blazed seeing the ancestor sword in other’s hand; rage swelling within his chest and with equal equanimity he fended subsequent nimble strikes and delivered his own deadly assaults on Stark.

Back on the icy rooftop a superb fighting had ensued between Svein and Duan, as the latter repeatedly whirled his sword like the fearsome wind and brought it down on Svein with a forceful blow. But Svein in lightning   speed each instance (case) escaped the course of the blade (the sword's path) and instead, dealt the assailant numerous damaging blows of his own.

 All the while Duan had also targeted the chimney, trying to dismantle or destroy stone/brick structure, in effort to suffocate (smoke out) those within the cabin, but this also were ably thwarted (foiled) by Svein.

At one point after parrying Duan’s sword, Svein then with lightning   speed landed Duan a most powerful punch on the jaw that sent Duan faltering backwards on his feet to the periphery (fringe, edge) of the (snow covered) roof. He halted only just, with his heels dangling in midair as the dislodged flecks of ice cascaded down.

No worse for wear however, in a flash Duan not only steadied himself on his toes, but in an agile move, with a swift summersault going right over Svein, he landed squarely on his feet behind Svein and lunged.

Quick maneuver on Svein’s part blocked this deadly aim and the subsequent lightening charges, thrusts, and stabs.

Duan, now in a more solid stand laughed aloud and shouted: “Not bad, not bad at all kid!! But these rooftop engagements are tiresome, don’t you think?” Then quick as the wind, he somersaulted down onto the solid icy ground and this time engaged Svein in so fierce a combat that even though the full moonlight bathed the premise, all that was discernable (visible) to the naked eye, was a whirling, streaking (whizzing) blur.




 Brandt   also caught (occupied) in a fierce battle with Stark, at one point had nevertheless drawn close enough to Svein to note in a side-glance, the features of the young man.

Why that is, what was his name again? Brandt   could barely contain his shock and surprise. That’s right… Audun Colden. Blast!!!  Brandt’s astute (shrewd, incisive) mind had at once pieced it together. Brandt, seething in anger now for being (duped) played the fool, he cursed Audun (Svein) under his breath and redoubled his strikes against Stark.

Once this foe was bested, Brandt next aim would be Audun; however, Brandt had pegged (gaged, judged) that one wrong as well, for despite Stark’s wounds, his consummate skill, and the intensity of the combat, was so swift and outstanding (remarkable) that it robbed Brandt any chance of besting him.

“Fool, all you are is an impediment!!” Duan furiously bellowed at Brandt, when at one point Brandt   got in his way.

Duan’s subsequent lightning   strikes in quick succession hacked and thrust at Svein's ribs and other body parts, but in each instance, incredibly, Svein with his nimble maneuvers (bend, twists, or turns), repeatedly averted and deflected the deadly course of the blade. Maddeningly still, in all that time Duan’s invincible deadly strikes had barely grazed Svein’s clothes.

Brandt   had witnessed Duan vanquishing whole contingents in the blinking of an eye. Yet thus far Duan with his indomitable fighting style and prowess had failed to gain the singular advantage over Audun Colden (Svein).

The villain (fiend) Duan had finally met his match! Adroit Brandt’s blood boiled with fury, doubting hence, his and Duan’s prior, anticipated victory.

From the start, Stark and Svein had pegged Brandt as not being a serious contender within that fighting group and quickly relegated him to lateral combat. It still took all Brandt’s skill and might, nevertheless, to parry or fend off Stark’ sporadic (intermittent) assaults. Stark’s key focus directed at Duan, whenever he could, he had landed a helping hand to Svein. Nor could Brandt   get away now, to assault those in the cabin's interior, as a diversion, presumably (likely) the weak point of these two invincible warriors.

The intense combat, occasionally, with the three combatants Duan, Stark and Audun (Svein) interlocked in fierce struggle had, meanwhile, lasted indefinitely for Brandt. They had paid little heed to Brandt, who fought futilely on the flank. Jealousy gnawing his innards. Brandt regretted now having played his part all too well, Duan despised him and so it was far too late for an effective, coordinated strike against the foes; meanwhile, the adversaries’ combined force was invincible.

Brandt, as he fought on, with his astute observations, had irrefutably (undeniably) now, grasped the full scope of their impossible situation. In all the years of fighting, (even when based on sheer force, stamina, and skill) he had seen nothing remotely, akin to it.

How best to survive (outlast) this sure forfeiture?

Presently, with the two striking at Duan simultaneously at once, Brandt, knowing it was only a matter of time before Duan was (bested) vanquished- inwardly tallied (weighed, deliberated on) his scarcest options, and wracked his brains, till he reached an apt resolution.

                                                                                        ~

At one point in time, Duan ceasing a rare opportunity, in lightning speed struck Svein, then in a whirl, hacked at Stark’s back, only to find his blade in both instances simultaneously blocked, sending fiery sparks into the night air.


SVEIN

This for a spell, demoralized Duan, for good as Stark was the youth who fought only with ordinary sword, still wielded the blade with such consummate, deadly effect, furthermore, his unfaltering speed and agility were unlike any Duan had ever encountered (engaged in). This was far beyond any human skill; it must be…. Duan inwardly nodded, remembering his fortunate findings from the supposed cryptic chronicles (private journals) of the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s in that vault.

Inwardly, Duan could not help but admire the youth’s super-human competence (thankfully, not fully realized yet,) that still far exceeded any proficient mortal martial arts’ expert, such as the one-armed foe.

Anyone else would have long ago perished by my blade (wielding of sword). So young, yet he possesses such consummate, invincible power. Hmm, Duan, presently demurred while keeping up the intense combat. The elder, despite his wounds and obvious handicap is also to be admired: a pity that I must slay such fine warriors.

 

Svein and Stark, meanwhile, for an immeasurable time had kept up with their coordinated maneuvers, and presently, still effectively stayed both Duan and Brandt’s (assailants’) recharged deadly offensives.

Be that as it may, despite all seeming appearances, the unremitting intensity of combat combined   with the effects of the medicine Stark had ingested earlier, had in fact by degrees begun taking its toll on Stark; yet with tenacious vigor, he’d obstinately, persistently pushed to ward off Duan’s fresh unfaltering swift strikes, ignoring Svein's repeated urgings for him to withdraw from the circle of combat. 


STARK

"Please get back to safety, Uncle. I can manage them both.” Svein again urged Stark, before he swung with full force at Duan's chest then intercepted Brandt’s thrust by tripping him face down to the ground.

“Nothing doing” Came Stark’s stern response; however, just then seeing Teuquob armed and about to emerge from the cabin, both Duan and Brandt   shot through the air in an incredible speed, in a straight beeline towards her. It was all Stark and Svein could do to block their intent; and as Svein kept them both effectively at bay, Stark catapulted, swift as the sudden gust to land just before her.

“I told you to stay within! Outside is no place for you to be. Now get back in and bolt the door!”  His stern command, command of a general forced Teuquob to abort her aim at once and quickly withdraw inside.

 “Stubborn girl,” Stark shook his head, as he turned and rushed back to join the fray.

Teuquob with certain foreboding had bolted the door and stamped her feet, and then angrily casting the sword aside, went to look in on the just then squabbling twins.

 The sounds of the intense combat outside picking up momentum stirred her heart anew with further misgivings and she hugged her children as she bit her lip to stop the urge to scream in sheer frustration. Why wasn’t she allowed to fight? She was competent enough; was all her training for nothing but a show!

As she had squeezed them tighter still, the twins, very much surprised, ceased their rumpus (crying) and with confused expressions only a mother could tell, stared back at their mom.

“I should be out there, fighting alongside them. I am capable enough!”  She found herself explaining   to those staring, innocent faces. “In here I feel so utterly useless; there must be something I can do?”

Presently, she would pray for their salvation; then, she would defiantly, join in with the fight outside.

Subsequently, with the twins at close by, she prostrated herself before the altar of the mountain god, Rognar, (resting) set up over an ornate mahogany table in the private corner of the living area. There, with a heart-rending plea she entreated the God, till such time she participated in the fight, to be merciful and aid her beloved husband and esteemed uncle.  Furthermore, to bequeath her, Svein and Stark, utmost power, strength, and endurance, so that they may jointly, easily subdue the (assailants) enemy.

                                                                                           ~

                                                                               

TEUQUOB


 (END OF SECTION 5)

 


Saturday, 21 December 2024

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!”

DUAN

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.

DUAN

                                           ~                                        

 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.

SVEIN

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 the twins must be ready to flee to the safety of the cavern as we’ve discussed earlier.”

 

                                                                   ~

 (END OF SECTION 4)

 

Friday, 1 November 2024

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RESCUE - SECTION 9

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RESCUE - SECTION 9

(THE CONCLUSION OF THE RESCUE)

 

Silently, Teuquob sat in the place Stark had indicated to catch her breath. Before her, like a magnificent painting, stretched out as far as the eye could see, the vast expanse of undulating peaks, the tallest of which had their crowns haloed with white, floating clouds. Serpentine rivers etched their paths down into deep valleys, disappearing at times under the veil of mist that shrouded them in deep mystery.  Flocks of birds flying in their designated direction decorated the azure sky.




“How peaceful it is here.”  Teuquob, despite herself, heaved a deep sigh.

Stark gazed at her for a moment without replying, “Everything will be all right,” in the end he said, reassuringly.

But in an unexpected turn this brought renewed grief to Teuquob. Unable to contain her emotions, the furrows on her forehead deepened and she burst into tears. Alarmed, Stark moved at once to comfort her, offering his handkerchief. “Females cry so easily;” With a melancholy smile he said, “surely it can’t be as bad as all that?”

“I’m sorry.”  She dried her eyes. “Here, with you, I shouldn’t cry.”  She forced a faint smile to her lips then dropped her head and murmured, “I wish nothing more than to unburden myself to you; but how can I be sure after you hear the facts, you won’t hate me.”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear? Oh, child say what you will, I promise I will not hate you, not ever.”  Teuquob was touched by Stark’s soft gaze and empathetic words, giving her the courage to long at last voice what was oppressing (harrying) her heart.

“Oh, sir, I can no longer endure with such uncertainty and such falsehood.”  She had too much respect for Stark to allow this deception to continue any longer and she looked up, resolved now to confess, to tell him everything. “You have been kinder to me than my own kin. Fearful, though, as I am of losing your affection and respect, still I must dare profess that I am not what I earlier claimed to be. In truth, I am but an unworthy, disobedient daughter of His Highness Murong Di of Kontu. Only, born under an unlucky star, I have never basked in the warm, protective grace of His Majesty. Subjected to scorn, I was forced to endure habitual, contemptuous, and disdainful….”  Her voice had shaken with emotion before dropping off, as tears once more glistened in her eyes; for anew, she was torn by conflicting feelings (sentiments).

Repressing the urge to intervene, Stark sat motionless and gazed at Teuquob in thoughtful silence.

After a time, her composure regained, she then professed to Stark the summary of how she was raised (educated); but temporarily withheld (omitted) the circumstance of her birth, as it was too painful for her to recollect (call to mind). “On my fifteenth birthday, when His Majesty decreed that I’d be wed to Lord Hedenko...”

“Not the Overlord Deng Hedenko?” Stark interrupted Tequob in surprise.

“You know of him, sir?”

“I most certainly do.”  How could your father, how could His Majesty, in all good conscience condemn you to such an odious fate? Stark wanted to inquire, but restrained himself, instead giving her a brief explanation of how, when he visited Kontu in his teens, he had come to learn of the Overlord’s exploits from his esteemed teacher and host. The surname of which, when disclosed, resolved an earlier dilemma for Teuquob. Clearly fate had played a big part in bringing Stark and her to this present circumstance. With this notion, hope sprung anew in her heart.

“Perhaps, then, you do understand my plight,” she smiled, reassured, “for long since my heart has been ill at ease as to how I may best explain this to you. But sir, my own life is of little consequence to me, and this was not the reason for my flight. My action was (determined) born out of necessity, a daughter’s duty to her mother’s soul.”  Then, by degrees, Teuquob unfolded the entire truth: the story of her mother’s life, beginning with her mother Princess Lueling’s tragic tale, as it was told to her by her nanny Shutizan; next, she divulged  Hedenko’s notorious, more recent exploits, and the actual reason for her escape.

“You were quite correct in acquiescing with the wishes of your respected nurse.” Stark nodded in approval when Teuquob had reached that point of her story (narrative). “Shutizan is to be commended for her loyalty, farsightedness and clear thinking.”  Stark was also fatalistic in his philosophy of life and believed that much of everything was pre-ordained at one’s birth. Hence, he stressed further that all Teuquob had done was to follow her destiny.

His understanding words dispelled at once the gloomy, oppressive clouds that had so long stifled her soul, and instead, ushered in the fresh spring rain. Tears of gratitude now flowed ceaselessly from her eyes. Stark, his heart pained by compassion, embraced Teuquob as a father would a daughter, offering her solace. As she burrowed her face into his vest her tears rolled like pearls down the front of the garment.

 How difficult it is to console young girls, Stark reflected in exasperation. They are so frail, so emotional. I feel so inadequate at dealing with this. My wife was always better at this than I. His forehead creased, he shut his eyes tight, as the hapless girl’s grief reached the very depths of his soul. Despite his natural reserve, he found himself stroking her hair soothingly.

Darkness had begun to encroach on them as the sun followed its usual path to the western horizon. This provided Stark the opportunity of break and he said, as delicately as he could, “Please try to constrain yourself; besides, we really should be getting back before the sun sets.”

Teuquob, a sensible girl, responded immediately and pulled her head away. Drying her eyes she bashfully asked his forgiveness for her imposition on him in such an informal manner.

“Please, do not be concerned,” he smiled compassionately, “that was no imposition. We are all allowed our moments of frailty now and then. I am only glad that I could afford you some measure of solace.” With the outstretched hand, he then helped her to her feet and together they began their descent of the slope.




As they neared home, Stark suddenly halting, voiced his opinion, “It’s too late in the season now, but perhaps at the start of spring we could undertake the journey to Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple.”

This precipitated fresh tears of gratitude in her eyes. How kind, how sparing Stark was, to be considering such a move in anticipation of her wishes!

“What is this?  Still more tears? My dear child, please stop crying or you will make yourself ill.”

“It’s all my fault, I should have waited,” he ruefully muttered in self-reproach, turning his head away.

“Oh no,” she rushed to counter, “I’m most grateful to you, sir.”  Then, in a most unexpected move, she fell on her knees in front of him and proceeded to thank him most humbly for his kindness and consideration. She had long wished to ask him about the existence and location of just such a place but, feeling that he had done so much for her already, had refrained from doing so.

Overcoming his own surprise, Stark hastily raised her to her feet and stressed that he had long nurtured the idea of visiting “Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple” himself to offer prayers and burn incense to his late Sovereign and ancestors. 

“Your gratitude is unwarranted, my dear since I would have done this anyway for my own sake.  My objective, it seems, fell into accord with yours out of pure coincidence.” 

After a moment’s pause, he sadly added, “I, too, am guilty of neglect,” and his heart over again, flooded with grief.

 

Of course, inwardly she had rightly guessed the true reason for his so-called procrastination; it had to do with protecting Svein. She could note that even now after having committed himself to helping her, inwardly he was torn with disquieting reticence, reluctant as he was to chance their security, by his leaving their well-guarded secret retreat and immersing (personally, physically) with the outside world.

Inwardly in fact, his reasoning was waging war with his sensibilities: Could it be that he had become unduly overly cautious. Surely, after all this time, almost nineteen years, there could be no real danger of spies or henchmen still in pursuit. Even he, the ardent nemesis, in absence of proof, would not be that persistent!

His mood lightened, his voice filled with the renewed vitality of youth, he firmly proclaimed, “Most definitely we will undertake this journey come spring!”  But the words were no sooner out of his mouth, when his face clouded over with concern, “I may have been rush in raising your hopes however, for you may not be up to such an arduous journey.”

“I beg to differ with you, sir. I am strong in physique and even stronger in will.  No journey, however odious, shall deter me from my aim.”

Despite his disagreement, Stark kindly refrained from airing his sound judgment and the projected difficulties they, not just her, needed to master. “All right, we will see what we can do to make the transition and the trek more plausible.  I’m sure that between the two of us we could afford you the necessary measure of security and means of comfort.  However, I feel I must warn you, well in advance, that the proposed journey will be most perilous and taxing an undertaking.”

“Yes sir, I stand warned.” She, suppressing her hopeful exuberance, responded in a mocked, serious tone. Then, with her heart bursting with joy, she quickened her pace to match Stark’s speed.

The vegetation skirting this meandering path was already being draped by the twilight mists. Meanwhile, back at the cabin, Svein was growing increasingly apprehensive over their late return.

Something unforeseen must have happened to offset Stark’s stance of punctuality!

Unable to concentrate hence, he had long since abandoned his studies and restlessly paced (to and from,) the length and breadth of the room, all the while deliberating whether to stay and wait, or simply risk provoking Stark’s scorn by going out in search of them. His rich imagination now an antagonist, most terrible sequential scenes, each more frightening than the next, began to (serially manifest,) unfold in his mind’s eye. In the semi-darkness of the room (with only the fireplace lit), heads bearing the razor-sharp fangs of known predators lunged at him out of the shadows, and then disappeared.





 Oh, I do hope they are all right.  He moaned irritably when the lone wolf’s howl from a distance pierced the still air of the room. He impatiently stamped his foot and turned to face the door. He was about to head out (the door) regardless of consequence, when to his great relief, he heard their approaching footsteps. Exhaling, he quickly rushed over to sit at his desk and pretended to be reading, feigning distraction, when they just then entered the room.

“Such diligence,” came Stark’s bemused remark. “My dear boy, you must have acquired extraordinary night vision, to be able to study so well in the dimly lit room.”

Teuquob hurried to light the lamp at the same time as Svein, sheepishly, also hastened to correct his error. Silently their hands collided, and both jerked it back, blushing.

That night, after Teuquob had retired and Svein had concluded his studies, when both men were relaxing by the fire before going to bed, Stark recounted the afternoon’s events to Svein.  In telling her story (but leaving out the fact she is of royal blood), Stark made specific reference to Lord Hedenko, the man to whom she had been betrothed.

“Since there is political significance in how Deng Hedenko rose to power, I will hence, take pains to extrapolate in detail everything I know of this Lord.”

“When I was residing as a guest at my teacher’s home in Kontu, I heard allusions being made daily to this notorious Lord, but it was not until my tutor filled me in on the details that I fully comprehended the extent of the fear his name generated.

As a young man in his teens, sixteen years old to be exact, Deng Hedenko already towered over seven feet in height. With his massive build, prominent nose, large predatory eyes, and bushy auburn hair of fiery red to match his temper, he already resembled more a demon than a mortal man. Yet, only once from afar I bore witness to his imposing bearing as he rode his black stallion at the fore of his equally impressive military entourage through the main gates on his way to seek audience with King Murong Di.”

Stark thoughtfully leaned back in his chair and took in a few more puffs from his pipe before continuing, “Overlord Deng Hedenko, as he was more appropriately referred to then, was born second in line to an immensely powerful and well-established family in the fifth year of Murong Di’s reign. Deng’s cruelty showed first when he was barely seven years of age. Even at that early age he was contending for power and aspired to his elder brother’s title. He dared his brother to a swimming match in the icy river. It was a very frigid day in mid-winter and the temperature had already dipped below freezing. When the elder boy succumbed to the cold and stood on the brink of death, Deng cruelly let him expire, and only then made a feeble pretense of affecting a rescue. Hedenko himself was known for boasting of this, which is why it had reached my teacher’s ears.

“With one obstacle eliminated, there remained a more difficult one for Deng to overcome. Fortunately for Hedenko, however, his father Lord Dazong Hedenko had wizened too late to his son’s insatiable thirst for power. With due consequence, the old Lord’s attempts to subdue Deng and bring him under the control of his authority resulted in failure. By withstanding the cruel measures and punishments inflicted on him under the guise of discipline, Deng was able to increase his will power and stamina by degrees until even the father had cause to fear his own son. Deng Hedenko’s popularity, cultivated with other members of the family and influential friends, and his growing skill in military strategy and martial combat was met by the father with due apprehension.


04- Lord Dazong Hedenko


“Fearing his own early demise, the old Lord Dazong Hedenko now contemplated conferring the hereditary title to his third son, overstepping Deng’s right of succession. But, before this could be affected (achieved), the younger brother succumbed to a fatal accident. Worse, the father could find no proof to substantiate his suspicion of Deng. Feeling his life was now in mortal danger, the old Lord Dazong Hedenko named his own younger brother Teron Hedenko as heir apparent and conspired with him to attain (beget) Deng’s demise; but the old Lord’s favorite wife, (for polygamy was an accepted norm there), who had special affections (fondness) for Deng Hedenko, betrayed her husband and warned Deng of the impending danger.”

“Sprung from the trap, Deng fled to the capital, and to safety. His first act was to seek an audience with Prime Minister Kwonsu Non, who bore Lord Dazong Hedenko an old grudge. Via circumspect bribery, Deng managed to ingratiate himself with the Prime Minister. Then, through P. M’s patronage, he was favorably presented at court to His Majesty Murong Di.  Deng’s striking bearing and his outstanding ability quickly won him the favor of the court. Despite his youthful age of seventeen, he was appointed as the commander of an Imperial force of battalion and, promptly dispatched to settle the border skirmish at Sikumu.   With deadly precision, in no time at all he annihilated the overwhelming forces of the enemy, recovered the lost territory, and returned victorious to the capital.


GENERAL DENG HEDENKO

 For this stroke of military genius, he was awarded the rank of General. In addition, he was presented with a fine, black steed from the Imperial stables and, as a special mark of favor from His Majesty, a luxurious court garment.

“In subsequent years, Deng Hedenko, gaining command of larger and larger armies, won countless unparalleled victories. He was strict with his officers and fighting men and, quite unbending in his insistence on rigorous discipline as well as, absolute adherence to military rules and regulations. However, he was also fair in his treatment of good men and most generous in his rewards to those that deserved his recognition. With his fair distribution of the wealth won during his conquests, he won the unquestioning loyalty of his men. His words became law throughout the whole army and overrode the instructions from the Minister of War and the Prime Minister. There was an unspoken, unwritten conviction (belief, opinion) that the army’s loyalty to Deng Hedenko even superseded an allegiance to Sovereign Murong Di.

“As General Deng Hedenko’s fame spread everywhere, his father’s earnest warnings to His Majesty about Deng’s ambitious and treasonous nature (fell on deaf ears) were never heard.

“Most faithful, stanch subject, Lord Dazong Hedenko’s subsequent entreaties, for the king to curtail Deng’s power before it was too late or, more aptly, put Deng to death, were also effectively intercepted by the Prime Minister and his powerful clique at court.”

“In the end the old Lord personally undertook the long and arduous journey to the Capital and put the matter before the king.  Through persistence, and the help of the few faithful friends he had remaining, Lord Dazong Hedenko eventually succeeded in gaining a private audience, and presented his admonitions with great zeal. But, far from being commended for his loyalty, he was rebuked by the Sovereign for harboring unwarranted suspicions and for promoting baseless slanders against his own son.  The old Lord left the capital a broken man.

“Growing in influence and power, Deng eventually reached the limits of insolence when he dared to openly insult the Crown Prince. But, since Deng was the most valued Field Marshal of the Imperial forces, and his talents most sorely needed at that time, the Monarch overlooked this sleight, as well as his other numerous crimes.

“Through Deng’s victories, King Murong Di had gained those territories he had always craved, and, in a noticeably short time, all the borders of Kontu were, for the first time ever, secured.  With the antagonistic kingdoms that had previously posed a serious threat to his realm all, without exception, vanquished and their strongholds burnt to the ground, Kontu’s Sovereign Murong Di’s absolute dominion (and lasting reign) was affirmed.

“In time however, with no more wars to wage, conflicting principles and varied internal politics, despite cloaked ambitions, nevertheless, ignited serious disagreements between liege and vassal. As the dissention between the two worsened (intensified), the king now began to distrust Deng’s increasing political power and to question his professed loyalty. Moreover, Murong Di, now regretful of his past oversight, perfunctorily dismissed the Prime Minister’s ordinarily compelling lexis and opinions and heeded instead Deng’s enemies and Lord Dazong Hedenko’s forewarnings.

“Understanding that, with the nation at peace, the Field Marshall was therefore expendable, Deng sought a way out of this decidedly perilous predicament (situation).

 As the saying goes, ‘When the game is caught, the good bow is put away.’”

 “Moving swiftly, before the likely rival faction mustered (mobilized) an offensive against him; Deng Hedenko resigned his commission and asked leave from His Majesty to return to his home state. 

“The Sovereign could not afford to appear openly ungrateful to this national hero, and so, Deng’s request was promptly granted. Secretly, Murong Di had hoped that the old Lord would do the deed (finish the job) for him and dispose of Deng once and for all.

“Lord Dazong Hedenko’s ardent foe, Prime Minister Kwonsu Non meanwhile, harboring his own sinister designs, keenly supported the monarch’s decision, whilst, adroitly silencing those who planned to enunciate a warning against letting such a rapacious fiend loose in the countryside.


Prime Minister of Kontu -Kwonsu Non

True to form, just as Prime Minister had anticipated, shortly after Deng’s arrival at the estate of Quinan, the old Lord Dazong Hedenko was swiftly, ruthlessly killed (cut down) and the blame put onto unknown assassins. Subsequently, two culprits were captured and, under torture supervised by Deng himself, confessed to the crime. Both were promptly, brutally (horribly) executed immediately after the trial. The case, thus quickly settled, gave the Chief Justice (of the High Court) no opportunity to call an investigation.

The first part of reprisals (retaliation, revenge) now over, Deng moved against, his once beloved uncle, Teron Hedenko.

As it were, the very moment the news of Deng’s impending return to Quinan had reached his uncle, out of fear and, to allay Deng’s suspicions, (or ire,) Teron had officially (formally) relinquished his claim to the succession and furthermore, staged a falling-out with his elder brother Dazong Hedenko. Underestimating Deng’s vindictive and brutal nature, upon Deng’s arrival, Teron then, reminiscing about past joyful family events and his lone, doting treatment of Deng- proceeded to curry as much favor as possible with his nephew.

Despite the assassination of Lord Dazong, Deng’s sustained amicable, respectful conduct towards his uncle, seduced (lulled) Teron into a false sense of security and he, albeit erroneously, further lowered his shields (safeguards).”

“Teron was elated when after the required period of bereavement, Deng, concealing his contempt, courteously invited his uncle to a lavish reconciliation banquet.

“Deng wined and dined his uncle with a cold smile on his lips throughout the ceaseless servings of alcoholic-beverages, rare exotic fruits, steamed edible plants, huge portions of venison and scrumptious (delectable) variety of outlandish victuals.


Teron Hedenko


“The after-dinner nerve-racking, bellicose martial entertainment, however, was ensued by unexpected, dire revelations from Deng’s paid witnesses, who brought forth false proof and a trumped-up charge of treason against Teron Hedenko.  The Uncle had not even digested his food before he was brutally hauled in chains to a damp dungeon, tortured, then summarily executed for his crime.  Once more, the case was so clean-cut that the High court was rendered powerless to indict Deng; as the witnesses themselves, had disappeared with as much rapidity as the accused.

“Quinan, which encompasses a remote, mountainous region was the farthest state from Capital. Burdened with prevalent, severe weather and harsh topography, the hardened citizens, herders, woodsmen or hunters, had always been difficult to rule. On the plus side, the region landed itself to producing the finest warriors in the land.

After the consolidation of his power in Quinan, Deng engineered some border troubles on his land and, using this reason, proceeded to create a new, invincible army in his state.

“When this new development became known in the Capital, the king sent a secret envoy into Quinan to keep surveillance (watch) on Deng and return with his findings. Expecting such a move, Deng hid most of his force in the mountains and provided numerous false reports for the envoy. Favorably impressed, the envoy returned to court and cleared Deng of all charges.”

 “With time, Deng grew ever more savage in nature and many of his enemies equated him to the fierce carnivores that plagued his mountainous state.

This predatory Lord had remained fond of wars and bloodshed all his life.

“It was said that, when he could not conduct a war, he would butcher men just for the sheer pleasure of it. He, true to his innate nature, remained just as fanatical about regulations as when he had commanded the Imperial army.

He enforced his unvarying, harsh edicts, with equivalent rigidity, regardless of stature or age- on the military, close kin and, on the entire civilian population.”

“All this while, many of the ablest soldiers who had served under Deng had, intermittently defected from Imperial force and re-enlisted in Quinan. With such an impressive force under his command, Deng Hedenko next embarked on a campaign of bloodshed to make Quinan the biggest and strongest state within Kontu.

“The first set of wars was waged on the neighboring kingdoms, Kwan and Ezaks, extending Deng’s holdings further to the north and north-west. After his power in these border regions was consolidated, Deng then looked to the neighboring states in Kontu, which stood between him and the Capital.

His ruthless exploits by then were so well known that just by seeing his invincible army poised at the gate, was sufficient cause to frighten these lords to capitulate (surrender) or, to strive for an alliance with the Overlord.

 “In this way, by degrees, Deng Hedenko succeeded in usurping good portion of the country from right under the very nose of Murong Di. In fact, by the time he was thirty-one, Overlord Deng had directly controlled over one-third of the Kingdom of Kontu and had secretly annexed another quarter.

 “This dominance was attained, via effective manipulation of many of the influential ministers at the Imperial court who had the King’s ear; and, by maintaining rigidly enforced control over engorged state of Quinan; which was ruled by the harshest administrative governing body, under sole authority (command, rule) of Overlord Deng Hedenko.”

 

“While all these factors were adding up, Sovereign Murong Di’s attention was instead, directed to the more urgent threat (pressing matter) from Ircon, on the eastern border region, one of the first states formerly subdued by Hedenko, which at present had again risen in power to war against Kontu.

“Hedenko had earlier warned Murong Di of the strength of the conquered country and had counseled the annihilation of the entire Royal Family.  The king, however, had coveted the Third Princess of Ircon, and later made her his fifth wife, leaving the Royal Family in power and registering Ircon as an independent tributary state.

“Too late, His Majesty Murong Di regretted his ignoring Hedenko’s warning of just this possibility. He would have been surely lost had he not still had the backing of Imperial army and some powerful and staunch loyal ministers in Court.

Compounding this mistake with another one still later however, he, gave the danger from Ircon a far greater precedence over looming (imminent) one from Quinan, and refused to recall Hedenko to court to give account for his, by now well-documented, treasonous activities. This slight chance, sole window of opportunity closed, by the time the injudicious monarch wizened to be concerned over Deng’s invincible power, the internal strife, and corruption at court had permanently eroded his ability to effectively deal with Deng.

“No doubt, numerous assassins were covertly dispatched to Quinan, but their attempts were all rendered ineffectual in that tightly controlled military state.

“Deng Hedenko, for the three years prior to Teuquob’s escape, had permanently absented himself from court. His emissaries still assured the muddle-headed king of his loyalty to the throne and provided sound reasons for Deng’s accumulation of arsenals. Nevertheless, with Deng Hedenko a permanent thorn in his flesh, it appears Murong Di had finally resorted to his last recourse, that of allying himself with Overlord Hedenko. Informed covertly of licentious Hedenko’s not so secret desire to be wed to the most beautiful girl in the entire kingdom, The Sovereign had issued an edict, along with the invitation, to appease Lord Deng Hedenko.  Although, I suspect, this was but a ruse (ploy) to lure Hedenko to the capital and there to arrest him and execute him for treason.  Teuquob was the bait to lure this fierce Overlord into the snare.”

“Judging from Overlord Deng’s abilities, however, he would have accepted this proposal only to have sprung some sort of trap of his own, allowing him to usurp the throne.”

Stark finally concluded his narrative with this most plausible prediction. Much of what he had said about the situation (state of affairs) in Kontu reminded both about the current history of their own country, and both Stark and Svein lapsed into silence, their thoughts converging on one unspoken name: Zakhertan Yozdek.

                                                                            ~



Winter soon showed its bitter face, with unending storms and bone-chilling cold temperatures. Added to this was the danger from ferocious predators, those that did not hibernate, now contended for the scarce food still left on the mountain. So, all unnecessary activities, like Stark and Teuquob’s excursions into the woods, were postponed, while the daily martial exercises continued as before in the clearing.

On this night, like so many other frigid winter nights, nestled in the warm comfort of their living room, Svein poured over his books, while Teuquob engaged herself with needlework and Stark, seated in his chair, quietly read a favorite passage from a book.  Only the howl of the winds outside, in harmony with the roar of the wild beasts, intruded thoughtlessly on the silence of the room. When Stark distractedly looked up from his book Teuquob, misconstruing his pondering (considering carefully) as break in concentration, impetuously voiced her request, “May I trouble you, sir, with, perhaps, my unreasonable hope?”  Stark nodded his assent.

 “Sir, I would be most honored if you would consent to impart to me the (teachings) requisite mastery of the “Literate” calligraphy, so that I may be able to decipher the ancient scrolls and benefit from the antiquated poetry and prose that are in your keeping. Since it is my wish to remain in your honorable country indefinitely, may I, therefore, trouble you with this supplication?”

What purpose would it serve other than to confuse your mind? Stark reflected before finally giving his reticent response.

 “Since only certain times are allocated to education, are you certain you can spare the time from your present linguistic studies? The future would be a more apt time (perhaps) for such additional explorations.”

“I can achieve both. In this way also, curious as I am of the beautiful, exceptional works, I shall not repeatedly trouble you for the translations.” she pressed in her eagerness.

“Perhaps it can be done.” Stark teased “But first, we must ask Svein if he would not object to you sharing additional paper, ink and writing utensils.”

Svein, delighted at this opportunity of spending more time with her, raised his head from his books and meeting his uncle’s eyes, nodded to him in the affirmative.

Of course, you would, foolish boy. Stark looked away to ponder on the concern.

 For a time, he remained reticent, worried about the unnecessary distraction, but instead, reverting his gaze back on Svein, he voiced this query, “Are you sure that it would not be an imposition?”

Svein could hardly contain his bursting delight; so, you are not entirely opposed to it, and once more gave his ready consent.

From that time onwards, each night sharing the same lamplight, Teuquob sat opposite to Svein and, with due diligence, followed Stark’s instructions in reading and writing in the ancient dialects. These times spent in such proximity were not however without their measure of restraint and discomfort for Teuquob and Svein. Feeling the way, they did for each other; it took great deal of effort and willpower from each to direct and maintain their concentration on their studies. Ultimately, (at the right time) Teuquob was encouraged by Stark to only speak in the Wenjenkun’s language.  Her persistence in using the unfamiliar tongue, despite her inadequacies of speech and discernible frustrations (such as flushed cheeks) when she could not readily recall the words she wished to use endeared her still more to them.

Over time, despite their reserve and propriety of conduct, Svein and Teuquob were now growing more familiar with each other. Svein could not resist teasing her from time to time, making her more flustered or flushed with fury. This innocent interplay, when done in times other than the study period, was overlooked, and even silently condoned by Stark.

 In a noticeably brief time Teuquob marshaled enough of the old language that enabled her to read a line or two of their most treasured poems or prose.  Thirsting for more, she continued to pour over her studies with unending enthusiasm and delight.

                                                                                    ~

 

(Epic story of “Legend of Nevetsecnuac” resumes in the next post, “The trip to the Monastery”- Section 1)