LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 16

It had been some time since Prince Nevetsecnuac and Alec leading their mounts, had passed through that harrowing subterranean tunnel, thankfully unscathed. Even now, Alec shuddered at the mere thought of it. He had expected it to be less arduous the second time around; in contrast, the capricious horrific incidents and the ensued wearing experience, one in particular, to date had left Alec terribly traumatized and infinitely (markedly) on edge.

  Maddeningly, the Prince had sailed through it all, not in the least bit perturbed by the onslaught of catastrophic events, unleashed by none other than Alec’s steed, and the consequential near-death experiences.

They were trekking outside now braving the elements of a different kind; unfortunately, the precarious shortcut route proved as treacherous for it was the depth of winter at these high altitudes. The ingenious contraptions of footwear with good traction, one of Asger’s clever inventions similar to that of Duan’s, had preserved them, man and mount, from more than once sinking into the depths of snow, or sliding over the terrifying precipices.

 As the wind moaned in their ears, the dense, whirling flakes flailing against their faces, their backs bent to the wind, with their horses' hooves sinking a foot deep through the powdered top layer of snow and into the tightly packed underlying layer, Nevetsecnuac and Alec rarely exchanging a word, incessantly pushed on.

Day after day enduring great hardships and untold dangers while persistently being tested by the cruel, trying forces of nature, they had hurried on to cover great distances and descend a good portion of these dicey (risky, hazardous) high altitudes.

"Perhaps we should have delayed our departure a few more months.” Alec grumbled in a barely audible voice, knowing full well that was not an option.

Nevetsecnuac shook his head and tacitly ejected, “This weather will persist until mid-summer." 

Forcing a smile, Alec nodded and continued to blindly advance into the wall of dancing flakes.  Trailing behind Nevetsecnuac, just as he had once done with Duan, despite his stamina and layers of fur, his body, his limbs yet again became benumbed with ceaseless exertion and cold; he slapped and rubbed his limbs for warmth and pursed his lips to restrain his groans and curses. In an attempt to divert his attention away from the persistent pain Alec focused instead on gauging the extent of Nevetsecnuac’ strength and stamina that spared the prince this torment; as it were, the discovery of few surprising elements earlier on, had persuaded Alec to amend (and postpone) his original intent.

After a grueling month Alec had lost all track of time, with days and nights and ceaseless drudgery of this trek intermingling with the terror of being stalked by ravenous wolves or sporadically attacked by voracious predatory beasts, all blending into one. Competent as he was, being outside of his element, he would have been wasted by the harsh environment or been devoured long ago by the beasts that had persistently, relentlessly dogged (hounded) them. To his chagrin time and again he had been constrained to concede, this certain reliance for his survival, on this very resourceful youth and his feats.

"There is a fierce storm brewing.” Nevetsecnuac stayed his footing just then, (halting,) and after his brief examination of the sky, grunted. “A little while further perhaps then we can stop.” Nevetsecnuac looked at Alec askance (sideways). 

Alec nodded without raising his head. In truth he felt ill at ease, “Was his discomfort that obvious?”

"There is an abandoned cave up ahead in which we can take shelter for the night." 

Under the cloak of white all marks had vanished, meeting Alec's skeptical gaze, Nevetsecnuac grimaced. "Don’t forget, I grew up on these mountains.  As it is we are taking the shortest route possible and should be in the safety of the foothills before long.  Otherwise, it would have taken us until next autumn, to traverse this distance."

Arrogant Alec was inwardly livid, interpreting Nevetsecnuac’s sensible words as disguised mockery, choosing to ignore the actual length of time it had previously taken him and Duan to reach the peaks.

 Latter (prince) might have grown up in these mountains, but it paled next to his grueling combat training   in Capital. Brute force, enduring stamina were only one aspect of the basic requirements; with a certain smugness therefore, Alec dourly pushed forward to advance swiftly. 

That night in the cave, shielded from the elements and warmed by the small fire, they had passed the time in relative comfort and safety.  After ingesting a barely palatable repast Alec, forgoing further exchange and sullenly giving his back to Nevetsecnuac, reclined his head in supposed sleep. Far from it, while his active mind perused through his most viable options; suddenly a fleeting, sardonic (wry) smile dawned on Alec’s lips and soon after he was lost to the world.

 The next morning, Alec seemed more affable towards Nevetsecnuac. What’s more, the remainder of the trek being mindful of Nevetsecnuac’s diffidence and anticipating Nevetsecnuac’s certain misgivings about him, Alec strove to ingratiate himself into Prince’s good graces with his most upright and frank demeanor.  By his consistent sincerity, faithfulness, humility, glib tongue, unfailing generosity, stamina and occasional heroics, by degrees (gradually) he succeeded in winning   Nevetsecnuac over.

 Now an affable travelling companion, on occasion when survival wasn’t paramount, Alec had even regaled Nevetsecnuac with accounts of heroics, adventure and tall tales of intrigue from the capital and far off parts of the Empire, fueling Nevetsecnuac’s imagination with personification and wondrous representations of the quintessence (embodiment of) world he scants knew from books.

 As they conversed to while away the lonely hours of travel, the topic of conversation skimmed over various areas of interest but decidedly rested each time on combat styles and armaments used in battle.

During one such exchange, Alec so as not to be too obvious, declaring his admiration of Lord Asger, tactfully strove to learn the finer points of Lord Asger’s fighting style; assuming that Asger had perfected his skill in martial arts, that of which made him nearly invincible, and had painstakingly passed it on to Nevetsecnuac.  Coveting this rare gift, the ambitious Alec implored Nevetsecnuac to instruct him on the finer points, whenever they took time out to rest.

"It is my life's desire, my duty to my father, to Lord Shonne Gulbrand and to you, my Prince, to be the best I can be, so that when the day comes, I may better assist our cause in battle.", he reasoned.  "For this, you must not begrudge me the benefit of your instruction, your Highness.  I've waited too long, all my life to be exact, for the day of vengeance and justice."  A note of indignation never failed to be infused into these genuine sounding requests.

Already missing his morning   exercises with Asger, Nevetsecnuac eventually acquiesced to Alec's wishes.

The addition of intense martial exercises wedged (jammed) between the grueling duration of trek, made the days and weeks pass more quickly, until finally, they, leaving behind the snowcapped mountains, reached foothills where temperatures were more moderate. 

They rode on extended periods with more ease now, oftentimes spurring their steeds into full gallop and sporadically (occasionally) racing for sport, while covering great distances.  And even though Alec’s horse repeatedly came second in every competition with the spirited (feisty) Fiery Comet, Alec’s amicability, his buoyancy and ardor never faltered.  

On these more temperate grounds, with the more frequent cloud-filled azure skies, warmer temperatures and thawing ground, it all attested to the approaching of spring.  Patches of green or brown appeared here and there on the slopes. Even a few tiny buds could be seen peeking out from the crevices, wedged between the icicles on the rock’s face.

Once, at a brief respite, bending to pick up a frail, purple flower, Alec gave a brief, admiring gaze, took a whiff of its raw fragrance then grounded it mercilessly to a soggy pulp in his hand.  His fingers and palms, steeped in the wild perfume, were stained purple with the flower's blood. With a distant, strange expression Alec hissed incomprehensibly.

Nevetsecnuac could only make out the words, "father", and "the villain must die.” 

With an uneasy feeling Nevetsecnuac’s eyes trailed Alec’s slow progression till he disappeared behind some bushes, presumably to relieve himself. On his return, with a somber countenance Alec set himself across from Nevetsecnuac.

Presently Alec appeared to have something grave on his mind, an urgent plight that was being forcefully constrained; after a dismissive shrug however, he abruptly rose and went to check in on his horse. Always respectful of another’s privacy, Nevetsecnuac chose to overlook these rare vacillating moods of Alec’s, deeming them to be just apprehension and understandable angst and disquiet stemming from impatience of reaching their set destination in time.

Subsequent days, the rocky, uneven ground, the enchanting yet precarious topography with deadly traps, constrained them to once more advance on foot. Neither of them minded this too much, for it also gave them the chance to discuss, compare and to exchange various views. Presently, as the sun's unobstructed rays bathed them in a shimmering, golden light that warmly caressed their faces, sounds of the gurgling of brooks and rivulets of melted snow and ice came from seemingly everywhere, flooding their ears.

 It was a truly spectacular warm morning that would have gladdened the weariest of hearts; but then that afternoon without warning, the rising, gusting winds whipped up the dark clouds overhead.

 The sun now in hasty retreat, the earth became gloomy, and its former gay tunes were drowned by somber whimpers and ominous drums.  There was no room for mercy in the incessant downpour that followed: its thrashing winds and rolling thunder shook all the hills around them. In the shrouding mists and pelting, wind-driven rain, Nevetsecnuac and Alec soaked to the skin, plodded (trod) mechanically, along the muddy, slushy, winding paths.

 Stopping only at night fall at a makeshift shelter, they ate some dried rations, oftentimes slept standing snuggled up to their mount for warmth or slept sitting up backs propped against some rock or tree-trunk, and then at first daylight they resumed their journey. In this way they had ridden out the storm that had lasted on and off, with persistent winds and overcast skies, for several dismal days.

 

                                                                                    ~

 

It was quite some time before the sun’s rays had again graced the earth.  Anew, the hard ground invited Nevetsecnuac and Alec to ride in gallop. By then having reached the emerald, green flat plains, carpeted in flowers, their hearts filled with renewed anticipation, they spurred their horses to cover once more vast distances.  The incessant ride halted only when darkness enveloped the earth. As they were still far removed from the nearest dwelling, they made a camp at the edge of the densely wooded area skirting a good size lake. Finding a suitable spot, sheltered from the full fury of the elements, they tethered the horses, washed up, and then quickly consumed some sustenance.  Drained (exhausted) from the day’s strenuous ride, they propped their weary backs against sturdy trees and under the canopy of the moon and stars with the earth as their mat, they closed their eyes, finally, for that well-earned sleep.

In that dream state, Nevetsecnuac saw himself fetching some more firewood at dawn, which he promptly deposited inside the cabin, then went out to wash up by the creek. His uncle was there already, finishing up.

“You are being too remiss!” At once Stark (Lord Asger) sternly admonished him. “Danger abounds, you must remain at all times, on your guard!”

Suddenly he heard a wild ruckus coming from the stables, as there was an alarm raised by Fiery Comet, stomping and neighing. Dropping everything, in haste both, Svein (Nevetsecnuac) and Stark (Lord Asger) darted towards it to investigate.

At this juncture, Nevetsecnuac was awakened with a start and saw the blade of Alec Therkan poised over him in readiness to strike.  Reacting swiftly, Nevetsecnuac adroitly twisted to one side and the sword with a loud thwack clove the tree trunk instead.  Rolling over, Nevetsecnuac nimbly grabbed his sword just in time to dexterously block Alec's next deadly strike.

"Have you gone mad?” Nevetsecnuac shouted at him in bewilderment and sudden rage.  

Alec, his eyes glinting with murder, derisively jeered through his gritted teeth,

"Don't call me 'Alec'.  The traitor Taok Therkan died childless years ago at his own father's hand." 

 

(END OF SECTION 16)

(NEXT POST- SECTION 17- THE CONCLUSION OF THE ASSASSINS)

 

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 3

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 3

Brandt   had never seen Duan use archery, yet in subsequent days, he’d witnessed the other using spare material to painstakingly fashion himself a mighty fine bow and a quiver of arrows. 

Brandt ’s curiosity and poised questions were finally answered when at dusk one day, Duan, still seated at his mount took aim at the sky and let loose the single arrow.  Brandt   could not even see the target or what it slew (shot, slain, felled). 

“So, he also excels in archery...Hmmm” Brandt   made a mental note of this and spurred his horse to catch up with Duan’s. 

Arriving at the spot tad later, Brandt   saw Duan pick up the felled falcon and retract a piece of note attached to his leg. No amount of pestering loosened Duan’s tongue however, nor did he let Brandt   see the note. He only smirked satisfactorily and informed Brandt   a short time later of the slight change in their direction.

Passing through a grueling and treacherous stretch, now at more level ground, Brandt   likewise whipped his horse into a full gallop.  The result of three full days and nights of riding at lightning   speed eventually brought them to a crossroads.

 Duan stretched his neck this way and that, holding his gaze in each direction at length and then charged resolutely westward. As Brandt   followed in silence, he queried how Duan had arrived at (attained) that conclusion with such obvious certainty.  He racked his brains to comprehend the existing clues or logic that had so mysteriously averted him.  Having reached the end of his patience with Duan's arrogance however, he cared not to place himself in the position of subservience and voiced no such inquiry.  But, once more an insidious smile related Duan’s surmised notion of what was weighing on Brandt’s mind.

 Subsequent days their path cut across still more difficult terrain; before long the deep canyon, the surrounding topography had taken on a rather sinister turn. At one point, as they passed through a particularly deep gorge, Duan’s unexpectedly alert demeanor alarmed Brandt. 

Duan now strung tighter than a bow, with his very being exuding such an air of foreboding, his intense gaze perpetually swept the looming cliffs.  Brandt’s inward queries were promptly answered however, when on several instances on Duan’s signal and nimble action, man and mount barely escaped that certain catastrophe of being buried alive, when massive amounts of dislodged rocks suddenly cascaded down on them. 

Long after, when they seemingly reached a safer passage, Duan had kept up with his vigil and pressed them hard to advance with that speed to cover still great distance.

“This isn’t your typical joyride.” He’d scoffed at Brandt’s silent protests and despite Brandt’s obvious exhaustion, refused least notion of pitching camp.  On this continuous trek they, while still in the saddle ingested some of their rather unpalatable, scant dried rations and rarely out of consideration for their mounts, had a brief repose in a crevice of sorts in this desolate (bleak) region where nothing stirred, with Duan upholding his vigilance against that phantom enemy’s assault.

Brandt   was becoming more incensed (exasperated) with each leg of the journey suspecting Duan with his spiteful nature to be conceiving (inventing) this unwarranted trouble, to further torment him, when suddenly they were under attack. 

Once the unnatural dust storm settled, all at once they’d found themselves surrounded by thirty well-armed, formidable riders completely covered in black garb, with only slits that made their eyes visible.  Brandt   had scant time to unsheathe his sword when the awesome, agile force spontaneously and in all directions, in a brilliant, lightening   maneuver, launched their murderous offensives (assault). 

Brandt   had always been quite adept at fighting but in this instance, he’d soon found himself outmatched in both skill and ability. Or had he?  For reasons known only to him, Brandt   held back and allowed Duan to demonstrate the true extent of his prowess. 

Rising to this challenge Duan with his invincible skill, quickly turned the tide in his favor. In a blinking of an eye, all assailants were vanquished, and men and mounts lay dead maimed and torn in bloody heaps.

The fortnight’s subsequent nocturnal assaults were even more lethal. Just as swiftly however, Duan bested them all; then in small hours, gathering the wounded and piling those atop the heap of torn, bloody corpses, he set them all alight. Making himself comfortable on a large flat bolder, he then watched this funeral pyre with intense perverse delight, occasionally letting out a boisterous laugh as if entertaining a private joke.

The rising smell made Brandt   retch and vomit till he was expanded from the exertion; maddeningly, this too compounded Duan’s wicked fun.

After the fourth and fifth major, deadly skirmishes, Brandt   had gained the sudden intense fear of Duan, as if just grasping the true measure of this Demon warrior’s proficiency.  Especially since all their previous adventures and exchanges had paled in comparison to these feats.  Despite his sham indifference however, the swift, shocking intensity and the near misses of the final mortal combat unequivocally rattled Brandt   to the core. Consequently, Duan was more intolerable, as he relentlessly mocked Brandt   with his contemptuous words, looks and gestures, till eventually he got tired of it. 

A few weeks later, another falcon was felled by Duan, then another sometime after that. In each instance a note was retrieved from the leg of the predatory bird, and again, Duan refused to disclose the contents to Brandt.  Infuriatingly still, any hope of a peek (stealing a look) was promptly eliminated when Duan routinely fed the contents to the hungry flames of the night’s makeshift campfire.

Then one evening   as they were about to fall asleep, “You can rest easy now; I doubt there’ll be any more messages.”  With his back to Brandt, he’d grumbled his sardonic, curt response to other’s evermore persistent inward queries.

In the subsequent month, the ongoing arduous trek had eventually led the two to another set of foothills beyond which lay a range of white capped mountains.  Descending then ascending the endless precipitous peaks and depths, they skirted ravines, gullies or cliffs, then negotiated inclines to eventually arrive at the remotest, darkest and most sinister of forests where ancient trees entirely blocked out the sky turning   night into day.

 In this twilight atmosphere they followed paths that no man before them had dared to tread.  All the while the immeasurable peril dogged their every step. Dangers abound from above and below, ahead and beyond, their mettle was tested, at times without cessation for weeks on end.  With their innate competence and stubborn resolve, they overcame each one of these hair-raising episodes and dealt effectively with the other peril from voracious, predatory beasts.

Occasionally their advance would be hindered by violent storms that erupted quite suddenly yet lasted for days.  During such times they attained shelter in nearby caves, crevices or caverns after contesting for space with the prior occupants (original inhabitants).

As they climbed (ascended) to still higher altitudes, with each leg of the journey the atmospheric temperatures became more hazardous.  With the overhead sky perpetually riddled with dark, ominous clouds that hung ponderously overhead, they trod uneasily over the precarious ground that oftentimes would be littered with intermittent pits blanketed with patches of ice or snow of varying degrees smoothing over the imperfections.

 All was not doom and gloom however, and on scant clear days, with the surrounding area and tall trees cloaked in exhilarating, blinding white, it admittedly transformed the glistening   environs into a mythological, fabled place of great beauty. The brilliance of light was so intense in fact that they advanced through this fabulous ice hinterland with only partially covered eyes, seeing only through slits.

The makeshift attire from pelts obtained from the hunted predatory beasts kept the core of their body warm. Meanwhile, (in addition to melted ice,) they drunk the blood of the game for satiating (quenching) thirst, and for sustenance, never lacking for food, Brandt   in time even grew accustomed to chomping on raw meat, or for variety, nibbled on some of the amassed, dried roots. When hiking over a particularly perilous icy terrain, man and beast (steeds) wore underfoot an ingenious contraption that Duan had appropriately devised to prevent slipping and sliding or worse, falling through the cracks/ pits in the snow and being buried alive.  Moreover, to ensure further stability, they made good use of ropes and iron pegs when their ascending path led them to tapered goat-trails hugging the sheer inclines. 

To Duan’s surprise, Brandt   had born all these hardships stoically, except for altitude sickness that is, that oftentimes plagued Brandt   when crossing a precarious, natural viaduct (overpass) over gargantuan (vast) debts or other such risky terrain with equally dizzying gradient (incline) to one side. 

On such instances Brandt   would have gladly traded places with their blindfolded mounts, to be spared the apprehension and the dire imaginings; especially since his discomfort without fail was augmented by Duan’s derisive, contemptuous remarks or his silent cold regard. 

Day after day, as though pulled by a magnet, they pushed (trudged) on relentlessly and unfailingly at top speed, superseding (overriding) countless dangers and hardships, Brandt   doing his best to keep up with Duan. 

Though they’d done what was humanly impossible and covered such a great distance in that short time, far from being pleased, at one point Duan had appeared in fact, quite irritable and somewhat dismayed.  Then one day, leaving Brandt   at a makeshift camp in an abandoned cave, Duan without so much as a word had set off alone on foot in search of a phantom path. He must have ventured far, for he’d remained hidden from sight (view) awfully long period.

 Brandt   left to fend for himself, first had prudently solidified his defenses, kept the fires going and guarded the steeds and their reserves best as he could, from the marauding, (prowling) ravenous beasts. By the fourth or fifth day, however, Brandt   had begun to get seriously peeved, for having been treated same as a groom when, late one afternoon, Duan quite unexpectedly had reappeared.  Without so much as a grunt, he plumped himself by the fire, partook of some of the skewered meat, then reclining   passed out in sound sleep. When at just before dawn he promptly awoke, he spared no effort to explain; only his words tersely directed Brandt   to follow him.

Even before the first rays of light reached the earth, Duan and Brandt   taking the lead, steered their reluctant mounts further into the densest part of the pine forest.  Previous night’s storm (blizzard) had dumped abundant snow in the vicinity forcing them to now advance with immense difficulty through the copiously covered ground and shrubbery.

They rode whenever possible, but oftentimes dismounting, they dug their way through waist deep rough patches. Their several days’ laborious advance eventually came to an abrupt halt one afternoon just before dusk, when they suddenly faced, what seemed to Brandt, a rising cliff. He watched with skepticism as Duan, veering around a huge boulder quickly alighted. A pointed look quickly brought Brandt   to his side. Stalwart duo exerting some effort in next to no time cleared a fallen tree and similar debris, pushed aside tall, seemingly impenetrable ice capped dense shrubbery to uncover an inconceivable niche that turned out to be an entrance to a pitch-dark subterranean tunnel that passed through to the other side of the mountain.

Brandt’s elation was short lived however, for the upcoming perilous journey was far more harrowing than the culminating previous encounters.  Right at the beginning   Duan had counseled him on the necessity of maintaining absolute silence.

The horses’ eyes covered, and mouths muzzled, with Duan in the lead they’d steadfastly advanced in darkness, connected by a rope, Duan periodically (now and again) slashing the air with his blade to dispatch the persistent dangers. 

They must have trudged incessantly for days in that grueling, subterranean labyrinth, for every tendon, every fabric of Brandt’s body throbbed with an unbearable ache.  After what it seemed to Brandt an eternity, they’d eventually emerged from this nightmarish tunnel.  Brandt   was so overjoyed at having survived this terrible ordeal that, braving Duan’s derision, he’d simply throw himself onto the ground and hugged it.

The rest of the journey, though still grueling, by comparison had passed far easier.

 

                                                                      ~

 

(END OF SECTION 3)