11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 22

   

Lady Sejon had of course been utterly delighted to learn of Magnian’s elevation in status. She was about to self-congratulate herself for having also narrowly escaped the dangerous predicament that had befallen Enqui Rimeng and prince Herleif, when her maidservant Areana had just then quite perturbed, burst into the room to present her Ladyship with a most curious, sealed letter marked urgent, specifically addressed to Her Ladyship Sejon, which someone had left without being seen, on the gemstone inlaid, pink commode at the end of the foyer (hallway).

01- D- THE LETTER AND AREANA

With inexplicable fear gripping her heart, Lady Sejon hastily broke open the seal and began reading the contents of the letter. Her brows knit when she read the incriminating lines, enunciating her actual part in the conspiracy to discredit prince Herleif, the precise details of planting of the penknife in the scroll, as well, her complicity (involvement) in the more grievous murder plot of the Royal Tutor Worren Youkup, after he had threatened to confess everything to Sovereign. The specific timing of the letter's delivery, and the stark, graphic minutiae (finer points) in the letter sent her heart palpitating wildly. Halfway through reading it, Lady Sejon’s face had turned completely ashen as she was shocked to the core; her head began to swim, her mouth fell agape, and the threatening letter simply dropped to the floor.   

Areana instantly scooped up the letter and spontaneously handed it back to Her Ladyship's trembling hand; she then with a concerned, puzzled look, enquired, "Is everything all right, Milady?” for never had she seen Sejon losing her composure like this.    

 Sejon meanwhile, had collapsed into the nearest seat until; getting a grip on her senses (herself) once more; she summarily dismissed all the attendants, save for Areana, from the room. She questioned her repeatedly, to learn how she had come by the letter. Had she noticed anything unusual, anything at all? Poor girl was mortified (petrified). She really had not noted anything strange or seen anyone suspicious. She was reduced to tears being so heatedly and wrathfully drilled. The other attendants had one time or other had faced her Ladyship’s terrible, fiery temper and suffered her subsequent wrath; therefore, despite their innate concerns for the much-beloved Areana, they dared not poke their heads into the room, without being summoned first. Better to stay away, till her Ladyship’s temper had cooled.    

In the end Sejon, totally frustrated, had irately dismissed Areana.

02  HER LADYSHIP SEJON C

Alone in the room, Sejon forced herself to re-read the letter, this time to the (bitter) end; she was surprised how such a courteous writing could carry that amount of, veiled and copious, malevolent bullying (intimidation, pressure). As Sejon mulled over the cited secrets in the letter that were, previously known only to herself and Nijel, gradually suspicion reared its ugly head and anger supplanted it. When she reached the reference to Nijel Pinng being detained by their competent men and therefore, should not be searched for, this time Sejon shook her head in disbelief. “This can't be!” For only moments before she had sent Nijel into her adjoining private bedroom on an errand. There being no other passage from there except through this very anteroom, by rights, Nijel should still be in there.

She bolted to her feet and hastened to the bedroom to in fury, confront (question) her half-sister and demand an explanation. Upon entering the room her eyes swiftly, twice swept the whole perimeter for any sign of Nijel, before her worst fears were realized; clearly, her half-sister, her personal aid Nijel was absent from the room. The toiletries she had sent Nijel to put back in their proper place were chaotically strewn on the carpet and both her vanity and chair were overturned. Suddenly Sejon’s attention was drawn to the tall curtains which the gentle breeze had just then stirred, letting in the golden rays of the hot midday sun. The window had been closed when Sejon had left the room. Then like fleeting hope itself the streaming spurt of light was extinguished as the fabric fell back into place. Ignoring the throbbing pain (pressure) that had just then manifested at both of her temples and was quickly developing into a terrible headache, Sejon with iron will, pushed all those worrisome thoughts aside and called out to Nijel. She same time began searching for her in earnest: she swiftly pulled aside tall curtains that could conceal a person or persons, searched behind tall screens, looked under the bed, then proceeded to look inside, around, under and behind the tall closets and big chests. She searched behind the colossal bed’s headboard, under the heavy quilts. Still nothing, nothing, nothing! All the while she had told herself that this was nothing more than an elaborate hoax… one of Nijel's practical jokes. She was out to frighten her; sort of, settling of scores for her last prank. Sejon's mind could not, would not conceive the contradictory outcome; nor would she accept the fearful concept and dire repercussions, of her being extorted. But considering the precise Information, gradually, she inwardly queried whether it could have been acquired, through force or, (perhaps) a willing participant, half- sister Nijel.  

No, that was not it at all! Sejon (out of fear) vehemently rejected that notion; for lately, ever since she had confirmed the truth about Nijel’s parentage, she had been most attentive and generous to Nijel. Furthermore, she had (Sejon had) ceased cursing and berating her for her tardiness. Nijel had no cause therefore, to hate her; besides which, their shared kinship bond could not be so easily superseded (supplanted), whatever the reason or threat.

03- NIJEL PINNG (1)

It is a lie, Sejon again pursed her lips and adamantly (obstinately) shook her head to purge those unwelcome thoughts that’d once more intruded into her brain. No; she was hiding somewhere there, the wilful, know it all tart; she was concealed somewhere specifically clever… But where, where in blazes could she be cloaked? Sejon snorted, remembering the time Nijel had once jested about growing wings and flying away. Surely, she had not done that. Sejon grimaced wryly at the ridiculousness of that desperate and hopeful thought.    

After seven more fruitless moments of increasingly frantic searching however, Sejon stood sullenly before the open window with the curtains now fully drawn, gazing blankly at the precipitous drop, oblivious to the heat of the sun on her face smarting her pallid cheeks. She could no longer deny the stark reality of Nijel’s abduction, nor dismiss the now presumed act of disloyalty and therefore, her betrayal.   

Eventually the mounting pain in her temples forced Sejon to draw away from the window and return to lie languidly on her bed, fully dressed, not even caring to remove her constricting slippers. In defiance of her will however, her mind still reeled (spun) with accusations and flashbacks, allowing her no respite. She groaned and buried her anxious (stressed) face in the plush pillow; steady flow of her flustered (anxious) tears soaked the linen and oddly enough, the moisture offered her cool comfort. Then after a time, her eyelids dropped.   

                                                                             …   

   

A buffeting (banging) sound at outside abruptly woke her and with a start she sat up. Her bleary eyes looked around at first, not grasping where she was; then, when her sharpened focus again surveyed the room, she noted how the sun's rays had receded away from the curtains, quietly announcing the arrival of the late afternoon. She nervously bit the corner of her lower lip thinking that she must have blacked out for at least two hours. When her gaze presently focused on the overturned vanity and chair in the far corner, the telltale signs of trouble swiftly brought back to her mind the contents of the extortion letter and filled her heart anew with intense fear and trepidation.   

Nijel’s disappearance, combined with those precise written facts… had Nijel collaborated with them all along, or had the information been extracted out of her via torture, after her abduction? Was there really an abduction? Sejon’s eyebrows again knit. There was no real sign of struggle in the room, not really. Besides which, she could have quietly overturned those light pieces herself to give that impression and then quietly slipped away, while she (Sejon) was reading that cursed letter.     

Sejon abruptly just then recollected angrily how she had given Nijel certain liberties lately, allowing her to come and go as she pleased; hence, the fault was hers (Sejon’s) for this generous leeway. Wallowing in self-recrimination, Sejon cupped her burning cheeks in her hands: Oh, what a fool she had been to place her trust in her half-sister Nijel! She had only herself to blame for this trouble, it was her own cursed naiveté. When will she ever learn not to trust anyone, particularly her own kin, especially in this den of wolves! Consequently, anger swelled in her heart, and it grew and grew, rising to the point of an unadulterated, seething rage. Sejon by then had been absolutely convinced that she had been manipulated and methodically, heartlessly, betrayed by her half-sister who had the backing of at least, two of her ardent nemeses; and so, inwardly she cursed the day she had first laid eyes on Nijel!    

How dare she collude with them …! How dare they threaten her!    

Sejon’s gaze stayed five more seconds on the threatening words in the letter instructing her not to search for Nijel Pinng. Her fury already supplanted by a determined course of revenge on Nijel and her presumed co-conspirators, she clenched her fists and simply shook her head, knowing in this she must act to the contrary, as well, produce a believable justification for her maidservant's prolonged absence. The last thing she wanted was for idle gossip to reach the ears of Zakhertan; meanwhile, she would force Nijel into hiding in earnest and, if the fiend half- sister ever mustered the courage, the nerve to re-appear, then…!    

Her thoughts abruptly turning to Areana, one who had found the letter, Sejon nodded, having decided on the only recourse (option) she felt was left open to her. Then, after summarily disposing the letter in the fireplace of the adjoining antechamber, she shouted in an angry voice for her servants to come in, setting the plan in motion. That late afternoon and well into the small hours of the evening, she had scattered them about in search of Nijel; they tirelessly scoured every inch of her Royal residence, but expectantly, could not find any trace of Nijel Pinng anywhere. It was as though the ground had opened and swallowed her whole.  

                                                                                     ~

Following day, the intense search had resumed at crack of dawn, and by noon, it had discreetly been extended to encapsulate (capture) the outer perimeter of the South Palace. In all that time Sejon constrained to play the part of a benevolent being, had displayed as deep a concern for her missing servant as was expected of one in her position; but when there was still no sign of NIjel, Sejon then subtly voiced her fears with self-recriminations on her tongue that, Nijel must have, for personal reasons, run away or worse still, she might have ended her life in some deep well. Lady Sejon then shed few more crocodile tears (an insincere show of grief) and reluctantly called off the search. Looking downtrodden and depressed, she dismissed all her attendants and took refuge in the cool serenity of her bedchamber. She had drawn the bed curtains aside and was about to lie down for an hour’s respite, when she sighted yet another sealed note placed squarely upon her embroidered pillow. Seeing red, she snatched the casing (envelope) and tore it open; what she read set her heart palpitating in angst and from that moment on, she was permanently robbed of any notion (vestige, sense) of being safe.  

Later still, in utter disbelief she had read and re-read the lines: "Commanding performance my dear; but by your reckless action, you have also condemned her to death. Be warned, any more such foolish acts in future, shall be met with far graver repercussions to you.”

"My dear?... Who would dare address her so brazenly!  

04- ladyship SEJON PONDERING

It was little comfort to her, that the special footnote at the bottom of the letter had reassured her, if she cooperated fully, her indiscretions would remain a secret (undisclosed), perhaps indefinitely.

Meanwhile, the last line before that, the felicitous wishes that she continues to enjoy her newly elevated status, fell hollow against the acerbic baldness of the subsequent statement, "Nothing more is required of you at this time".    

She had vented her rage by ripping the letter to shreds and then feeding the compressed smithereens to the flames; after which she had stood in the center of the room looking at everything around her with searing contempt yet feeling suddenly most vulnerable and exposed at the same time. The sudden urge to destroy everything within her sight and to reduce it all to ashes, just like the letter had robbed her of her aspirations, afresh swelled up in her chest. But if she were to do that, how could she (plausibly) explain her erratic and destructive temper-tantrum to Zakhertan Yozdek when the news of it, invariably reached his ears. As it was, she already dreaded having to weather the unpleasant speculation from certain quarters, about the disappearance of Nijel. She dreaded also that the impending, future salvo (barrage) of questions that she might be hard pressed to answer, despite the regular frequency of these sorts of events, if Nijel’s corpse was ever to be suddenly manifest.    

“No,” Sejon looked out the window and shook her head, vehemently denying this probability. This was nothing more than an idle threat, for Nijel being kept alive and utilized as a leverage, would be far more beneficial to the mastermind, villainous abductor.     

Sejon nevertheless felt terribly stifled, her lungs desperately needing oxygen (fresh air) she moved to the adjacent antechamber and went out onto the balcony to stand there sullenly by the ornate iron balustrade. She absently gazed at the burning disk of the setting sun, as it lit up the sky with the colors reflecting her inner rage. For a long while Sejon stood perfectly still, her throat constricted, her mind beset with horrific images of the future's dreaded dour (bleak) prospects, her heart meanwhile gripped by the inexplicable (perplexing) fear and pounding wildly in her chest. In the short span, her self-assured world had been shaken to the core. She now inwardly squirmed like a trapped animal, in an albeit gilded cage, knowing that from then on, she would be existing in a state of incessant anxiety, her every action constrained and dictated, her ambitions seriously curtailed, being subjected to the whims of yet another tormentor, besides Sovereign Zakhertan.    

Providence compounding her apprehensions, an edict (from His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek), was announced just then, commanding Sejon to ready herself within the hour for that night’s impending royal visit (favor).    

 

                                                                                             ~

 

(END OF SECTION 22)

WHEREFORE SACRED CHIMES HAD RANG (CHRISTMAS STORY BY BOST, 2025)

 

All acts of kindness however minuscule do not escape the notice of Heaven, even though they may go unnoticed here on Earth.

Once upon a time in a far-off land there was a magnificent spiritual temple set on a hilltop. Though the mortal beings that inhabited this region (all the myriad beings) worshipped many different gods, they still respected each others religion and at times even actively participated in the other’s celebrations. Christmas time being one such.  

01- WHITE CHURCH -JP

This spiritual temple in particular, its congregation called it the White Church, for the outside stone was exactly that, was magnificent. The tall stained-glass windows, placed specifically to catch best angles of the sun’s rays, depicted angels and brilliantly executed religious scenes praising God Almighty’s power and extolling the virtues of the Christian saints. Pious carpenters had painstakingly carved magnificent wooden reliefs above and to the sides of the main entrance. The Church’s most prominent feature however was the white stone tower with ivy growing over it as far up as the eye can see. In the steeple an array of Christmas chimes was housed.

Every Christmas Eve many inhabitants of the city, re-enacting an old tradition, flocked to this church bringing with them many offerings to their savior, the Christ Child. Legends told of a time when, after the greatest and best offering was laid on the altar, there arose above the voices of the choir a beautiful sound, emanating from the top of the tower the most divine music of the Christmas Chimes.

Some claimed it had to be the wind that rang them, while other more pious ones believed in their heart of hearts, and exclaimed loudly so, that it had to be the angels that set the bells swinging to produce that heavenly sound.

Then came a time when, however great the offerings were, the chimes never again created blissful melody. As a result, the pious group belonging to this church were saddened, feeling there must be something amiss. Yet many Christmases came and went, and no chimes (no heavenly music) were ever heard.

02- WARRIOR ERLAND

It so happened that there was a disillusioned, recluse warrior called Erland, his name meaning, aptly, an outsider or foreigner. He was of about thirty-five years old, height over six feet tall, burly physique (muscular, strong, robust body) with long blond hair that cascaded down his shoulders.  Erland had never been married, he lived a solitary life, by choice, with his dog Longze as his sole companion, in a ramshackle hut at the edge of a dense forest, not far from the notable church.

This once a mighty warrior had a deep scar, from his eyebrow to chin, on his left cheek, which in part spoiled his very handsome features (face). He had many more scars under his tunic and on the rest of his body that told of many fought battles won or lost.  At the end of one such fierce battle, when the crimson ground was strewn (spotted) with dead and dying warriors, Erland searching for his fallen friend, had instead found Longze, a tiny little whelp no more than three months old, curled up beside a bloody corpse of a warrior; the puppy was cold and frightened, but refused to leave his master. Such resolute loyalty had tugged at Erland’s heartstrings, and he’d reached to pick him up. The puppy, despite its size was fierce and fought him, even bit his hand, which had made Erland love him all the more.  In time Longze, the name that had come to him in a premonitory dream shortly thereafter, and upon waking he’d called him by that name and the little puppy had responded to his call. Gradually Longze had accepted him as his new master and the two had since then had become basically (essentially,) inseparable.

03  PUPPY LONGZE 2

Erland, sometimes visited the local tavern to have a pint or two, always seated in a dark corner, rarely accepting company, with Longze always by his side.  Once or twice, Erland had acquiesced however, needing contact with another human soul and it had happened to be at around winter solstice and Christmas. On that particular night, feeling unusually sentimental, and thinking he had the other’s ear (that he was being heard), Erland, had reminisced (recalled) a time when his mother had spoken to him of hearing the chimes when she was but a little girl. In her waning years, always a devout Christian, she had mourned the fact that lately people had become more selfish and grown less generous in their hearts with their donations for the needy. That the last five years love and compassion for a fellow being had gradually diminished, in some cases had been entirely nonexistent; pomp and ceremony, hand in hand with greed and ambition taking root instead. As a result, when an offering was made without the purest heart and intentions and it had become only a show, it did not move the angels and justly did not merit the music of the chimes.

Erland stopping at this point, had quaffed (guzzled) a swig (mouthful) of the barely tolerable brew, for he’d imbibed better spirits in his heyday, then nodded morosely and then asked, not really expecting an answer, “As testament of these demoralizing times, when was the last time anyone had heard of the chimes?”

Even though wars had ended and on the surface, subsequent six or seven years, all seemed peaceful, there was a hidden coercion (undercurrent censorship) in that realm; and certainly, no one wanted to hear the truth; and so, the person seated across from Erland had typically fidgeted, blinking first with fright , then furtively casting  his stone gaze about him, to ascertain that no one had heard Erland’s rebellious tirade (rant). But Erland had kept his voice low, he was simply letting off steam, not a shout certainly that could be overheard amidst this drunken cacophony (discord, noise) of patrons (regulars) of the tavern. His burly companion, seeing he was safe, exhaled in relief as he, same time lowered his head and said nothing.

“Why did he bother?” Erland inwardly scoffed; angry that he was a wolf still living among sheep.

Swallowing his irritation however, Erland simply (bolted) rose to his feet, and with trusted companion dog Longze, wagging his tale, happy to be at last leaving this loud, stinky environment, trailing him, left the tavern.  

Subsequent winter had been particularly harsh for those living on the fringe (peripheral, the outlying areas). Snow and ice had permanently for months, covered the entire region. When the warrior Erland, having stayed out in the woods longer than he should, hunting for game, and later still chopped some wood, hence, was beset with fever, burning up in his bed, his exasperated dog Longze had finally on the third day left his side to go fetch him some help. But owing to the frantic, festive time, help was not that easy to get. Still, Erland’s faithful companion Longze, had unrelentingly tried and tried, seeking help, trying to fetch anyone, without avail, for his master.

                                                                                              ~

04- TAZA AND KALEN'S PARENTS- RICK AND ELSA

In a remote country village, several miles from the capital city Mortak, meanwhile, there lived a boy named Taza and his little brother Kalen. Their parents had once belonged to an indigenous group that had been systematically hunted to near extinction, because they had refused to forsake their heritage and conform to the rigid rules of this present regime.  Taza and Kalen’s highly educated parents who had chosen to live on the fringe, had always fostered tolerance of all spiritual beliefs and traditions; however, they had same time maintained their heritage (birthright) ideologies and different sort of religious beliefs... One embracing warship of Sun, Moon, Sky and the nature spirits.

Meanwhile, as the information about varied different religions were readily available at libraries and schools, Taza and Kalen had been drawn, especially at Christmas, to the religious practices of Christianity.  There were many beautiful aspects in that religious teachings (doctrines), and profuse (abundant) lessons and stories that had captivated their young imagination; hence, at Christmas time, they were as excited in their hearts and were eager to participate in copious (plentiful) religion’s traditions and festivities.

05- TAZA (22) JP

This winter marked the time, which their parents had been dead for over three years; fever had claimed them both, and Taza now at sixteen years old, as the sole provider, had done his best to in all that time, provide for his little brother Kalen. This was no small feat, for Kalen with his boundless exuberance, was a handful.

As education was widely available and was free (state funded) to all citizens, Taza and Kalen had continued with their schooling, and with their eager mind and insatiable appetites for acquiring new knowledge having never waned (diminished), each day they had borne (endured, weathered) the difficult terrain (topography) and at times harsh conditions of climate (weather, temperatures), and walked quite ways to attend school. It was during an ordinary school day that Kalen had overheard a group of kids that were eagerly discussing all the elaborate preparations their families (more than that, the whole congregation) had accomplished (fulfilled) for the upcoming Christmas celebrations.

Intrigued by all that he’d heard, Kalen, who was six years in age, later that day, had pleaded and pleaded with his elder brother Taza to take him to that particular spiritual white temple, the White Church. His curious nature demanded that he experienced it firsthand, for only then he would understand what all the fuss was about.  It was a perfect time to do this, as the school would be closed for ten days to also accommodate the winter solstice revelling, and other such, with groups rejoicing, with their own brand of festivities all over the region. Kalen had looked up at his brother with those wanting, puppy eyes, that always tugged at Taza’s heart’s strings. How could Taze say no?

06- KALEN (14) JP

This was also a particularly somber time for Taza and Kalen, as they watched joyful family interactions (exchanges), knowing they were all alone in the world; nevertheless, they did their best to celebrate, finding solace in the fact that they still had each other. They also carried the unwavering hope that Heaven would provide them with whatever they needed.

After a long consideration, Taza had answered yes, to Kalen, and watched him do a joyful dance, as he with his open palms reaching up to the sky, twirled about, elated, anticipating the thrilling adventure they were about to embark on.  

Always the responsible youth, Taza woke up at first daylight the following morning and bundled some dry rations, mainly two hard boiled eggs, half a loaf of bread, a clump of hard cheese, strips of dried meat and some seasonal berries, in a cloth and tied its ends. Leaving it on the side table, Taza then gently woke Kalen from his deep slumber; they had a quick breakfast, then Taza picking up the already prepared bundle, slung it over his shoulder and both exited their humble abode.

The days preceding (prior to) Christmas were always bitterly cold with frigid temperatures plunging below zero and made worse by thrashing winds that whipped and punished any wayward souls who dared venture outside.  Knowing this, they had set forth on their adventure with skins of water that hung at their waists and, both already dressed in several layers to escape the bitter, bone chilling hoarfrost (rime frost and ice).
For untold hours the boys trudged to cover the great distance to the place where the White Temple stood. Huddled together, they walked hand in hand bending their backs to brace themselves against the strong winds. The icy drizzle still however, mercilessly chilled them to the very marrow of their bones. By dusk they were tired, famished and exhausted, almost unable to take another step, yet the lights of the big structure now visible, perched on a hilltop, just ahead, egged them to soldier on.

At dusk, panting, they at long last approached the gates of the Temple ground; their eyes assessed the long gravely, icy path, configuring the steps they would still have to take before reaching the Temple’s doors.  From the look of things, the afternoon prayers had already been concluded; however, there was the evening prayers and activities yet to transpire, so the gates had remained wide open for the anticipated congregation (worshipers, flock, churchgoers, parishioners).

Taza and Kelon, though extremely tired, without stopping passed through the iron gates and began walking the long path; just then however, Taza spotted off to the side something dark on the snow and he veered off to take a closer look. It was a poor dog who had obviously suffered a mishap, some trauma and fallen into the shallow ditch. Stranded, he lay there practically half-dead, too sick and shivering with cold, to rise up and seek help. Rushing over, Taza knelt beside the poor thing, and carefully examined his injuries, paying particular attention to the incapacitated leg. Thankfully the bone was not broken but there was a deep slash (tear, cut) into the muscle, though not too serious and the wound was fresh. It had happened recently, for the blood was congealed, frozen but not black, the laceration not angry, therefore, no infection had set in.  Taza heaved a deep sigh of relief and before starting anything, checked the dog’s name tag, to find out his name. Longze was his name. Just then Longze had opened his eyelids and looked at Taza, his eyes searching, wanting something; next he then with some difficulty lifted his head, whimpering, nudging his nose on Taza’s hand and same time, strove to get up.

07- LONGZE INJURED AND IN DITCH

“Take it easy boy; I mean you no harm. Be still Longze… stay put, I’ll do my best to help you.” Taza talked to the dog soothingly as he, same time stroked the side of Longze’s keck.  He was good with animals that way. The poor thing was shivering, he was certainly freezing; without another thought, Taza took off his outer layer and wrapped it around the dog, to allow him some warmth. Understanding that he was also dehydrated, Taza fetched his waterskin; intelligent animal that Lonze was, he opened his mouth and allowed Taza to trickle some water down his throat.  

Taza next began tending the injured leg carefully as if he had all the time in the world. Fortunately, Taza had also packed some salve (lotion, ointment, balm), a healing liniment, which he carried in his pocket for just in case they got scraped or injured.

First, by rubbing some snow on the area, Taza carefully cleaned the laceration (slash) on the leg, then applied the salve on it. Next, he cut long strips off his tunic and used it to bandage the wound.

While he’d done all that, Kelan had stood by patiently, watching him intently, though he registered deep concern and impatience in his eyes, for they were in a snowy field, some ways off the path.  Kalen feared that when darkness descended on them, no one would know they are there. The sky laden with clouds and this, coupled with the diminishing light of the setting sun, would soon shroud (blanket) them in pitch darkness and invisible.

Just then, as if reading his mind, Taza suddenly looked up and addressed his little brother, “It’s no use, Kalen; I can’t leave Longze in this condition. You go on ahead to the church, without me.”

“Alone?” cried Kalen in a fearful voice. “No, I can’t. I can’t let you ... miss the Christmas Festival.”

“You are brave, just go on by yourself. I’ll be fine and, I’ll be right here when you come back. I must tend to his other needs; there is still more to be done.  I know he’s starving.”

Taza then questioned the canine: “How long has it been boy, since you’ve eaten?”  He asked the poor thing, not expecting any answer. He looked at those soulful eyes of Longze, who lacked (human speech) vernacular ability to communicate something that was obviously vital(critical)… That of which wasn’t about him…. It was something imperative, something else.

“How horrible it must be, to be without the faculty of human speech?”  Taza pensively nodded his head and then turned to look at Kalen, who remained reluctant to leave, and pleaded.
“Go on Kalen; please don’t make things any harder, I can’t leave him in this state!”

Kalen knitted his brows and pouted; then, with certain resignation, turned to go.

“Oh, wait…”  Taza suddenly urgently cried out, remembering something.  He then quickly reached deep into to his inner pocket and withdrew a treasured object for his little brother to take.

“I’d done some preliminary reading on this religion; offerings could also be made at this particular time for the souls of the departed; it will bring them apt solace in afterlife. If you get a chance, little brother, to slip up to the altar without getting in anyone's way, please take this little wooden angel (which I’ve carved) and (the copper  coin) the two pence, and place them all down, as our offering, before the icon (image) of their deity, for our parents’ sake, when no one is looking. That way it will be the same as me going there. "

08 -KALEN HOLDING ANGEL AND TWO COINS (15) JP 2

Kalen had simply nodded and then with a heavy heart left Taza; someways down, he looked back over his shoulder and saw that his brother Taza was now feeding the strips of dried meat they had taken along, to the one that needed it the most. Kalen smiled in approval, thinking how fortunate he was to have such a kind, loving brother, which made him feel that instant, warm and safe all over.

“You can do this; you are no coward!” Thereafter, sticking his chin out, he hastened his steps, to reach the procession of the people, that had alighted (descended) from their posh (grand) carriages and were presently ascending (climbing), the stairs of the Temple.

The decked-out interior of the great church was truly a magnificent place that night. The decorations, lights and glitter, all the displays, riches he’d never seen the like of before simply took his little breath away. A small urchin like himself was virtually invisible amidst the procession as they took their gifts for the Christ Child to the altar.
Some worshipers laid down wonderful jewels; some gave baskets with massive amounts of gold so heavy they could scarcely carry them down the aisle. A famed author laid down his prized work, a book he had, after many years, just completed.

09- FAMOUS AUTHOR OFFERS A BOOK

Then the King and Queen appeared in all their majesty, hoping, like the least petitioner, to win for themselves the music of the Christmas chimes. A great murmur rippled through the church as the people witnessed the King, additionally, taking his priceless golden crown, set with diamonds and rare precious gems, from his head and laying it to gleam on the alter as his offering to the Christ Child.

“Surely, “They intoned in unison, “Surely we shall hear the bells now.” But the chimes did not ring. Not even a whimper was heard.

When the gifts were all on the altar, prayers uttered, long sermon ended and finally, the choir began the closing hymn…. And still no chimes manifesting…. By degrees, the disappointed crowd, murmuring under their breath, slowly but surely, began to disperse.

Suddenly however, the organist had abruptly ceased (stopped) his playing; and everyone shocked (holding their breath), looked aghast at the old Priest, who was holding up his hand for silence.

“What’s this?” A hushed murmur rippled through the air.

For unmistakably, when the people strained their ears and listened hard, there came at first a manifest unearthly sound of akin harp; but then, resonating through the air, softly but distinctly, ensued (materialized) the heavenly music of the chimes in the tower!

The divine music seemed so far away and yet so clear. The notes were so much sweeter than any sound they had ever heard. Melody rising and falling in the sky was so entrancing that the people in the church held their breath and stood perfectly still.

Then they all stood up together and stared at the altar, wanting to see what great gift had awakened these long-silent chimes. But all the nearest of them saw was the figure of Kalen, who had crept softly down the aisle, perfectly unseen and placed Taza’s little wooden angel and the two pieces of copper on the altar. He’d then quickly left, never realizing the miracle he’d gifted to the people.

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

 

The story could well end here, but not just yet.

 

The two brothers, Taza and Kalen, had followed the guidance of the Longze, part carrying him, part following him, that night, to finally, after a long trek, they had reached the wooden cabin at the edge of the forest.

Inside, they discovered, the ailing Erland, still in the grip of fever but stubbornly hanging onto life.

 Longze, with renewed strength had rushed to the side of his master, nuzzling Erland’s head and whimpering to him that help was there, to hang on. The warrior Erland seemed to understand his dog’s urgent pleas and forced open his eyes to take a good long look at Taza. He nodded his head and closed his eyes, though temporarily.

Taza, despite his young age, knew exactly what to do, for after his parent’s demise, he had diligently studied and acquired the amassed knowledge of how to cure this terrible fever which had taken so many lives.

He had been motivated since that time, with strong determination not to have this sickness rob anyone else of a loved one, not if he could help it. He’d poured into books absorbing, learning every bit of knowledge that provided the cure and moreover, he had sought the help of homeopathic healers nearby. And learned to identify the key plants that was helpful in eliminating some of the symptoms.  These accrued (combined) information permanently committed to memory; he set to work at once to help cure this ailing solitary warrior Erland.

As Taza tended to the sick warrior Erland, little brave Kalen and Longze proved two useful assistants in foraging (finding) the necessary herbs, which was essentially easy feat, once one knew where to find it

Local physicians could not have achieved what Taza did after a week; for he had put his heart and his very soul into curing Erland.  Taza during that week, many a night loosing sleep, had worked (diligently) tireless, long laborious hours, to diminish Erland’s fever and afford him comfort. Then as his condition began to improve, Taza nursed him back to health by providing him apt nourishment and allowing warrior’s own natural immune system to also assist in speeding up his convalescence. 

And yes, Erland finally recovered; he was so filled with gratitude and loved these two boys, understanding how very heroic, self-sacrificing, stoic, precious things they were, that he later, formally (legally) adapted them as his children. And so, a loving family (of four) was formed, including Longze of course.  Longza lived to a ripe old age (dog’s years), contended and never lacking for anything.

Erland was also, for the first time ever, was at peace with his past; he spent the rest of his life protecting, nurturing Taza and Kalen and bringing them up proper and later still, passing on his warrior skills onto them.

 

The End 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 26

Canute Yonn swallowed heard, then fighting the blinding, throbbing pain in her head, he continued to relate (reveal) his mother’s tragic story to the indifferent (unsympathetic) ears in court. “Tresor and his wife Suen were a kindly folk; and at the beginning they took great pains with herbal tonics and diligent care, to save my mother’s life. After a partial recovery, however, she was again driven out into the cold; this time the culprit was poverty, and the humble farmer and his wife had to harden their heart to do this.  Their reasons being valid, I carry no ill will towards them."

“How very magnanimous of you," Mouro ejected sarcastically and sneered.

Disregarding him, Canute Yonn elucidated (explained) why he’d so readily forgiven them: "Their deprived circumstances were onerous enough, but that year’s incessant rain had spoiled most yields (crops) and created scarcity. This prohibited any acts of charity to kin, much less a stranger.  Famine had already claimed two of their children, one at the age of three, the other barely a year old. My mother, Helga, was crippled by Senson's countless blows to her legs and could not work the fields or do any other strenuous work; she was a liability and a hindrance to them.”

01-FARMER TRESOR

“Subsequently, with scant clothing and food, her baby a millstone in her belly, my poor mother drifted from place to place, scavenging, begging for alms, to survive.  All the while trying not to hate the innocent child, me, in her womb. I’m telling it as is, when she had later unburdened her heart to me. She had endured these unspeakable hardships, living for the day of her vengeance."

"See, trouble begets trouble.” Micen stroking his beard, mused heartlessly. “They should have made certain of the serving maid Helga’s death before abandoning her in the ditch; if they had, all this trouble now could have been averted."

"I came into this world in a house of ill-repute, where we stayed until the day of my mother's passing." Canute Yonn, oblivious, continued hoarsely.  "I grew up hearing her bitter, tragic sobs every night, for she had never grown accustomed to selling her body."  He gazed dully at the floor to hide his eyes, brimming with tears.  The rekindled pain of those times again tormented his mind, wrenching his soul.

                                                                                       ~

"Please don't cry, Mama!"  His heart breaking, Canute buried his face in the pillow to drown out his sobs.  What was it that ailed her so?  Who was Senson, this name she had so often, like now, cursed out loud in her sleep?  He was seven years old.  He felt quite grown up and he did the chores like grownups, but everyone still treated him like a child.  I'm old enough to understand, why won't she tell me?

He tossed his covers aside and, sitting up, fixed his gaze on the locked door that separated him from his mother.  The room, no bigger than a closet, in fact it had once been used as storage, had a tiny window so high up that it let through only a thin sliver of moonlight.  The wind was howling outside but the dancing shadows in the room did not scare him.

 I wish I could comfort her; he rubbed his eyes sleepily; I know she needs me.

 Hanging his head low he heaved a deep, stealthy sigh wishing he could forget that another, a stranger, who was sleeping snugly beside his mother.  As he tried to purge his heart of the gripping loneliness, troublesome thoughts and haunting questions again crowded his brain.  Why does Mama claim we have no family?  What about my father? 

Canute knew that his father was not dead, for once in slip of the tongue, she had referred to him in the present tense.  But why weren't they with him?  Wouldn't he be angry if he came here and found out she had slept with all these men?

He didn't play in the street anymore, for the other kids would tease him and call him and his mother all sorts of unmentionable names.  Like sharp slivers each name-calling stabbed at his heart.  Many a time he had retaliated with fierceness and pent-up anger, beating and dispersing all those who had ganged up on him.  Unfortunately, swift repercussions, beatings and berating soon followed from his elders in the house.  He was in a no-win situation.  Things will never change; why should I fight back (riposte)?  Still, a faint smile brushed his lips when he recalled the proper whipping, he had given to that big bully Yenn Katog, who was always inciting the other kids against him. It served him right!  And, it had more than made up for the thrashing he got later. 

He now stuck out his chest in self-congratulation.

Canute’s mind reverting back to his father, he reclined and closed his eyes in hopeful dreams, imagining that one day his noble, warrior father, their savior, would appear at their door, looking tall and distinguished, kindly and strong, to claim them.

02- CANUTE YONN'S IMAGINED FATHER

His heroic father would rescue them both from that ugly, intolerable existence.  For, to the marrow of his bones Canute detested this place he was forced to call home.  It broke his heart to see his mother ceaselessly tormented, day after day, by this uncaring, insensitive lot.

 Restless, he shifted his position.  His eyes fell on the discarded old plantation fan Tike had given to his mother.  He picked it up and examined it in the scant light, noting particularly the holes.  Absentmindedly he began gnawing at its edge.

 A few doors down he could hear that old tyrant of a house mother, Tike, scolding one of the girls.  In anger he threw the fan aside.  Oh, how he hated that callous old shrew who intimidated everyone, young and old!

He grimaced, thinking how when he was younger still, his mother had kept him in line with the threat that Tike ate disobedient, disrespectful children for supper and that was why she had gotten so fat.

Unsought, he saw before his mind's eye those venomous, piercing beads of eyes, encompassed by a gelatinous face which split into a threatening snarl to expose rows of rotted teeth.  "I'll get you yet, you piece of shit!" Tike was shaking a fat, threatening finger at him.  "Your days are numbered; wait and see!"  He retorted, clawing the air savagely to tear at her reverberating double chin that always seemed to drip perspiration.

03- CANUET FACES TIKE

 Tike thrived on tormenting people, always caning, hitting, beating and cursing everyone.  Never satisfied, never smiling, except at the guests, and then her smile was more hideous than her frowns and haunted his nightmares frequently.  She flogged him incessantly, not sparing the rod even at the slightest provocation.  Worse still, he resented being forced to behave, to be made to quietly submit to her abuse. His mother Helga was made to suffer the worst of it, for every one of his defiant acts.

He could hardly comprehend the extent of the fear Tike evoked in his mother's heart when Tike threatened to throw them out on their own.  In fact, had his mother Helga not been the prettiest and one of the key attractions of Tike's establishment, the street would have been their home a long, long time ago.

Oh, how I hate her!  I swear I'll kill her some day! he shook his clenched fist in the air.

The weeping and cursing finally muted after the slamming of several doors.  It was the same scenario being played out every night.

The following day Canute received an additional reason for despising Tike.  Canute's mother Helga had been sick for the last two or three days now, vomiting and feeling dizzy.  He was really concerned about her so, after the guest had gone, finding the door unlocked, he'd quietly snuck into her room and attempted to give solace to her.  She looked paler than usual.  When the steps of the old tyrant were heard approaching the door he heeded his mother's directive and made himself scarce.  Not wandering too far, he eavesdropped.

"Doctors cost money", he heard the shrew say.  "Besides, keeping it is out of the question."  A few other words he could not quite make out.  Then he observed Tike taking a small bottle from her pocket and handing it to his mother.  "There, I don't want you to think about it any longer.  I was good enough to get you this.  Never mind where I got it, just drink it.  He assured me it would get rid of the unwanted pest (nuisances).  You don't think this is the first time I've had to do this, do you?"

Canute watched with some trepidation hoping against hope that it was medicine to cure his mother’s ailment, as Helga with some reluctance, a grim, ghostly expression on her pale face, raised the foul-looking potion to her trembling lips.

"Don't drink it, Mamma!  It may be poison!" His fears triumphing (prevailing) over hope, he sprang from hiding place to shout his warning.

"The idea!” Tike turned her venomous eyes on Canute, panting with rage, hands brought menacingly to her hips.

 "You ungrateful brat, poisoning her, is that what you think I'm doing?  You, you a slandering scoundrel, you!  Haven't I warned you never to come here this early in the morning?  How long has he been there?"  She turned to Helga, worried that he may have inconvenienced last night's guest.  She had another good reason to be fearful, since abortion was illegal in Wenjenkun.  She needed to ascertain that Canute had not heard or understood enough to incriminate her.

"I'll tell-on you!" Canute warned, having sensed her fear.  "I'll have you locked up!" he shouted defiantly, not really knowing what he was threatening her with.

"You, wrenched viper in my bosom; I'll teach you to threaten me, you piece of shit!" shaking her finger at Canute Tike began to viciously berate and curse him as she pounced on Canute.

But Canute was too agile and too swift to be caught, not one with her bulk.

Huffing and puffing as enraged Tike chased him down the hall, her shouts to the others to grab him created such a pandemonium that the whole house was turned upside down.

In the end Canute had successfully slipped through those innumerable, vicious, grasping hands and hid. 

By dusk, when eventually the mayhem settled down and everyone returned to their routine tasks, exercising due caution, Canute Yonn stealthily emerged from his hiding place.

By providence spotting the old shrew, he, hugging the walls, followed Tike all the way back to his mother's room.

Once more Canute hid and, from this vintage point, watched and waited with his heart pounding, for Tike to have her say and depart. Tike’s face was beet-red from all that exertion as she huffed and puffed and animatedly gesticulating, flailed (flapped, waved)) those fleshy arms of hers.

What has she got so much to squawk (crow) about?

Curiosity, getting better of him Canute pressed his ear to the door and eavesdropped. 

On and on, with mounting rage and spurting poison, Tike cursed and scolded Helga, as she unmercifully, vented her cruel diatribes on the hapless, ailing (sick) young woman.

 "I told you to get rid of that brat long ago.  He'll never amount to anything, mark my words.  He's nothing but trouble.  You know he's no good, but then you're no better!  Why do you encourage him to come up here?  Are you stupid or something? Mother’s affection, baloney!  All useless emotions!  You've no business feeling love, not for a bastard, not for anyone!  Now you listen!  I'm just about at the end of my patience with you.  I'll only tell you this once more.  Harden your heart to him or you'll be made to suffer.  Then you'll be sorry.  Get rid of him now, I say, for he'll turn on you too one day.  Just wait.  Don't you know the innate nature of all men by now?"

Tike paced the floor to and for in an unusual quiet, as she mentally formulated (prepared) her next set of arguments and rested her vocals.

The door he was concealed behind, (whom patrons sometimes used) was still unlocked.  He pried it on ajar and peered in to see what was happening.  To his dismay, he saw the emptied bottle in Tike's hand as she toyed with it before returning it to her pocket. Tike was careful that way; making sure to retrieve any would be incriminating items (objects) and destroying it later.

 Suddenly, in a much calmer mood Tike, going over sat by Helga’s bed and, her enormous paws cupping Helga’s delicate hand, she began persuading the ailing woman, to agree to something.  Typically, the shrew was trying first, a kinder, gentler approach but Canute knew all too well that, if this did not produce the desired result, she would in (but a few minutes) a flash reverts to her vicious nature.

"Why don't you let me get rid of the pest…? Arr, I mean the boy, for you as well?  You don't have to do anything.  I'll handle the transaction for you.  Why must you be so stubborn? I have your best interest at heart. Why won't you take my advice?  Can't you see that in the long run it would be better for him, too? He’ll grow up in a normal home.  I saw mistress Wang just the other day.  They're looking for another bond servant; trouble is they don't want to pay for a fully grown one. Now, don’t be so quick to turn this down; wait till you hear the rest of it. “

“When she told me of their wish to purchase a boy close to their Therran's age, to keep him company, be his study- buddy and, for to keep their son out of trouble; I'd at once, being so selfless (altruistic), suggested Canute.  She said she'd consider it.  I had hoped that they would have forgotten about that regrettable incident between the two boys.  But listen, if you agree I'll do my best to persuade them to take Canute off your hands; sold for a pretty price, I’ll even get a smaller commission, just to help you out. Besides, couldn't you use another new dress or two?  You really ought to be thanking me for finding him a good home.  You know that if he grows up here, he'll turn on you, sooner or later.  He'll hate your guts for what you're doing.  He'll despise you to the core for ruining his life.  Also, you know as well as I do, that no respectable, good girl will ever marry the illegitimate (illicit) son of a whore.  So why don't you heed my sound advice and get rid of him now, while there's still a chance, while there's still time."

Canute Yonn’s fury rising to the boiling point, he felt he would just explode.  He shook violently, uncontrollably.  He'd just about had his belly full of resentment against that old bat.  Grinding his teeth, he was about to dash out to gouge her eyes out… When,

"I caught you, you little worm!"  A strong hand grasped the back of his neck and lifted him up high.  "So, this is where you've been hiding all this time."

"Let go of me!  Let me go, you cursed dog!"  In vain Canute, eyes agleam with anger, tried to kick and claw his captor, the big, strong bully called Ron, Tike's nephew who (periodically) helped her with the running of the business.

The relentless verbal and physical abuse that both Tike and Ron rained on Canute made his mother livid with fear, worsening her wretched condition still more.  Her tragic pleas for them to stop hitting her boy fell on deaf ears until; finally, she uttered the words Tike most wanted to hear.  Canute was dragged outside, still kicking and screaming, bouncing down the steps until he was violently thrown onto the dirt of the cellar floor.

"I'll teach you to respect your elders." Ron ranted like a mad bull.  "So, I'm a cursed dog, am I, you, ungrateful turd."

He grasped the heavy stick which rested by the stairs.  "You've had this coming to you for a long time.  Take this, and this!"  He pounded solidly and savagely on Canute's tender young flesh.  "Plead for mercy, you wretch, or I swear I'll kill you!"

Despite the excruciating pain, Canute held fast, bit his lip to stop from crying out until he passed out. When he came to the musty smell of dust had assailed his nostrils and dirt coated his tongue.  His battered head was throbbing fiercely.  His fingers tentatively touched the area where the pain was most intense, at the hairline.  Just then he felt a sharp, cutting pain in his ankle and kicked his leg, scaring away the timid rodent that had wanted a taste of his flesh.  His torn shirt and pants had already glued themselves to his wounds.  Though every inch of his body was seared with pain he lifted himself with determination and persistence to his feet. Muffling his groans he groped his way in that semi-darkness, his path barely illuminated with a sliver of light streaming from the small window way up there; with determination, he weaved his way slowly towards the door.  As he had expected, the door had been barred shut from the outside.  His revulsion growing stronger by the minute, he drummed up his last ounce of strength and savagely pounded his fists against the wood.

"Let me out!  Let me out!  I'll get you for this, you fiendish bastards!"

 His strength was ebbing.  "I'll show you.  You can't keep me here for long…I’ll kill you all, you, you…. beasts!”

Curses on his lips reduced to barely audible whimper, his breath now coming in gasps, Canute (limply) collapsed to the ground.  He remained there motionless for an undetermined time until he'd recovered some of his strength.  The urgency of his mother's condition gave him the will, the (fuel) ability to forsake his pain.

05- CANUTE IN CELLAR

Rising to his feet, he first determined the direction he wished to go then slowly felt his way to that far corner.  He was relieved to find things undisturbed and so, with some difficulty, pushed the empty, moldy cart to the side.  This was not the only time he had been cudgeled or flogged then imprisoned in the cellar but, the last time, he had, through his resourcefulness, discovered this exit, this burrow through the wall and, enlarging it a little, had crawled outside, stolen a steamed bun from the kitchen, then returned to his prison without being seen.  He had been smart enough to have concealed the opening of this escape route and had confided its existence only to his mother, in order to ease her anxiety.

                                                                                   ~

(END OF SECTION 26)