Showing posts with label evil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label evil. Show all posts

Friday, 30 May 2025

THE DRAGON LONGZE AND THE LOST DAUGHTER BERDIS (PART 1)

 THE DRAGON LONGZE AND THE LOST DAUGHTER BERDIS 


(Original story By Bost 2025)

 

Part 1

A long time ago a mighty hunter called Alec, and his family lived in a modest dwelling alongside the lake near the base of the lofty mountain called DROGA. His only daughter, named Berdis (meaning spirit protection), was a beautiful girl with golden blond hair and blue eyes who from the earliest age seemed sensitive, thoughtful, and highly imaginative. Being rather introverted, she unfortunately, passed most of her time in solitude, and preferring nature and the company of plants, birds and animals to that of humans.


BERDIS

When Berdis was still very young, at night her mother Elin, on Berdis’s urgings, for plain old bedtime stories would never do, always lulled her to sleep with fantastic yarns, or thrilling verbal accounts of old legends passed down through generations. Berdis’s favorite fables always revolved around the mysterious tales that transpired in the forbidden zone known as the unhallowed (desecrated) ground, whom she’d been warned repeatedly, to never go near; and so, in her young years being a sweet obedient child, she’d obeyed, totally shunning that vicinity… A dense forested region, a narrow strip of land which spanned from mid elevation of the mountain down to the sandy shore of the lake. Mortals always fear what they do not understand. Anyhow, trespassers, she was told, without fail would fall under the spell of mystical, hazardous elves, minions (gofers, underlings) of evil spirits, wolf pyxies or fox dryads that dwelt in that unholy region.   Furthermore, tree and wild plant fairies lusted after naïve souls (hence, stole, collected them), as they consistently frolicked in mischievous, mesmerizing revelry; but worst of all, was the mighty, fierce Dragon that lived in a deep cave close to the summit (zenith) of the mountain.  According to old legends, some warriors had dared to enter the mouth of the cave, only to be instantly incinerated by the Dragon’s fiery breath; and since no one came back to recant (disavow, deny) or attest to its truth, this hearsay (and belief) had propagated (promulgated) intense fear and dread since time immemorial.



So fearful were the common folks of that desecrated region   that, whenever they came to close proximity, they always left behind an offering or a token to appease any ill will and ward off malevolence from the supernatural entities.

When Berdis got little older, being sensible but also curious and an idealist (dreamer), doubted the validity of such beliefs; and so, she’d stealthily visited this forbidden segment, yet despite the numerous times she’d trespassed into that area, she had never once experienced (encountered) any threat or adversity. Far from it, everything seemed to instead, welcome her and always made her feel as though she belonged.  Guarding this secret well, meanwhile, she often went missing longer and longer periods, basking, savouring her time in that forbidden zone, exploring in depth every nook and cranny, cluster of trees, bushes or flowers. Young as she was, she appreciated beauty and untamed nature and would sometimes gather strange, wildflowers and plants and upon her safe return, presented these delightful gleanings to her parents along with intriguing, ambiguous (obstruse) accounts of all her adventures that had transpired in her rambles.



Although her parents harbored some suspicion about her trekked venues (sites, places, spots), they were unwilling to prohibit her dubious escapades. She’d always been very gentle and delicate in temperament and nature; therefore, they could not openly articulate their opposition for fear of making her sick; and since she always returned in safety, her furtive visits to this enchanting place had persisted till she grew up in years to her early teens.

Each passing day, gradually growing more adventurous Berdis, ultimately sought the furthest remotest parts of the prohibited area, even ascending to the grater elevations of mountain.  This particular day, as she pensively trudged (trekked) through the barely feasible narrow strip, delving deeper into another unknown section of the region, she had suddenly recollected that old ballad which had alluded to an invisible trail that would rarely and mysteriously manifest for the chosen one, leading her/him eventually to the deep cavern where a fierce Dragon dwelled. She heaved a deep sigh and shook her head, knowing she was not that special, therefore, that would not happen to her.



Just then however, as if in answer, in the periphery of her vision, she noted the suddenly manifested trajectory (route, track) off to the side, inviting her to traverse it.  She placed her hand over her heart to steady her bursting excitement, meanwhile, her feet as though pulled by an irresistible draw, had already delved into the thick foliage and, after many hours of ascending the narrow goat’s path and then subsequently clearing the last obstacle of a  thorny, dense bushes that had obligingly parted to allow her passage, she’d delightedly (chanced upon) encountered an enormous gaping mouth of the huge cavern (grotto).

There was and irresistible pull for her to enter; inexplicably however, she desisted the urge (temptation), and instead, sat in lonely reverie there upon some high promontory of rock near the entrance of the deep cavern (grotto). Positioned amid all the leafy haunts of forest pines but quite close to the cliff’s edge, her eyes next trailed the snaking, downward track which led to the narrow strip of shoreline of the pristine lake.  Despite the distance, her acute hearing just then picked up the harmonious, melodious ripples of the waves lapping against the open shore. Of course, when she returned home just before dusk, this venture was too, added to the pages of her cherished private memory.

She had covertly returned to the mouth of the cave many more times (since) after that day, since the path always manifested, as if a welcome draw (lure, incentive) and, always allowed her a safe passage effortlessly through. Meanwhile, in all that time it had been the mighty Dragon (wielding his innate willpower), who had (checked) prevented her from entering the cave, for had she done so, he would have been (and not by choice,) forced to incinerate her (turn her into ash) with his fiery breath. As testament to this fact, there were vestiges (remnants) of charred bone fragments in several large heaps of ashes positioned only few steps withing the mouth of the cave.

Oh, but she never minded sitting in her favorite spot with her face turned upwards, gazing at the sky and observing the clouds that sailed on by. Sometimes she offhandedly (calmly) noted the smooth flight patterns of the eagles circling the sky; other times she slightly turned her head to gaze with keen eyesight at the languid, shimmering ripples on the lake’s surface far below. Oftentimes, with the gentle breeze caressing her cheeks, her thoughts would linger in lengthy contemplation, as though in communion with the spirit of an unknown force cold and distant, yet curious and fair.

Gradually this ethereal (otherworldly, enigmatic) force thawed, as at the same time elusive, yet almost sympathetic, arcane vernacular encroached (impinged, intruded) her mind. She embraced this with certain fascination, her heart alternately soothed or pulsated, by these most engaging stanzas, ancient limericks and thrilling chronicles, those he chose to share. Emboldened, she at times sought its divine guidance and solace, wanting to lighten her soul and alleviate the melancholy that seemed of late to grip her heart.

Then came the day which she affirmed her innate intuition, that she was indeed all that time, had been conversing with the Dragon that inhabited the cave; moreover, she now learned of his name: Longzi.


05- DRAGON LONGZE (1)

Once, when her father Alec remained afar on the hunt later than usual, and it was feared that he could be overwhelmed by a tempest, or encountered some misfortune, Berdis had surreptitiously, in her room lit a candle, knelt on the side of her bed and, palms held together in supplication,  called onto her Dragon friend Longze in prayer for his help, knowing despite his confinement in the cave, he could still direct (order)  the nature’s elements, as well, engage his minions and  spirits’ help to speed her father’s safe return. He had not disappointed her.

 By then, her initial inhibition had given way to genuine fondness of this noble, wise Dragon, whom she lately called, a dear old friend; furthermore, all during the long snowy winter, where it had been inadvisable for anyone to venture out into wilderness, she secretly yearned to go see him, disregarding the portended (expected) dangers. Strangely enough, it was Longze that each time discouraged her from this foolish aim, asking her to be patient a little while longer instead, when her trek would be safer during the more moderate temperatures, and later still, he promised to be with her (he did not say how,) when she reached the age of consent, which in her mountain village, was sixteen.

To alleviate her persistent concerns, he often kept in touch with her during her sleep, but always in vernacular (language, dialect, lingo) and never in an image (appearance, likeness). Perhaps he did not wish to frighten her.

Progressively, as their souls touched (feeling and thinking same), they had become little more than good friends and eventually he’d allowed himself to implicitly trust and feel unwavering affection (love) for this mortal girl. Though he had never outwardly professed (declared) it, in his heart and soul, he had already chosen her to be his eternal love.

On her subsequent visit which the warmer temperatures had allowed it, Longze imparted to her via scant details, gently as he could, the reasons for his execrable confinement. He had done this (as he’d been forbidden to do) with guarded, wary and indirect words, using references to enigmatic lyrics, cagy verses, tender dirges (laments). She had learned then, through insinuation and guesswork, the gist of his harrowing sentence, years of sorrowful plight (ordeal, torment), which came about because he had once pitied the offender, had failed to punish (destroy) and so, breached (violated) the ironclad Heavenly Law. For his disobedience, he’d been imprisoned in that cave, chained to the wall, for over three thousand years.


06- DRAGON LONGZE (2)

 As Berdis had listened to the voice in her head, her heart was so wrenched that, she’d shed quiet tears in deep sympathy of his endured pain. He loved her all the more for this, though next he did his best to lighten her mood. There was another concern, a secret that had long prayed on his mind, but this one he chose not to divulge, as the outcome pended on an unforeseen circumstance; instead, he communicated to her that, fortuitously, his sentence was nearing an end, about the time when she reaches the age of consent (16 years old), choosing to steer (guide) her thoughts in the direction of hope.  

A week later, again stealing away to the mouth of the cave and while reclining pensively against the young pine-tree, she’d fancied that she had heard Longze’s voice sweetly addressing her. At first it had been scarcely more than a sigh, but gradually it had grown more pronounced: 

"Sweet maiden,” said the melodious whisper. “Pray think of me not just a Dragon; but as one who is fond to be with thee; I, with my tall and scaly strength, with my bright fire red eyes, a nodding star high up in the night’s sky, one that every evening sparkles above thee. Thou art having captured my heart, Berdis; before you retire to bed, (and succumb to sleep), walk to the window and cast your gaze up to the sky, to heavens and be at peace. Fly from men who are false and cruel, and quit the tumult of their dusty strife and instead embrace this quiet, gentle regard (honour, affection). Rest over thy head on my chest, and I will carry you up to the stars. I will breathe a perfume like that of flowers over thy happy evening rest. I'll waft thee o'er the waters of the sky-blue lake. I will deck the folds of thy mantle with the sun's last rays. Come in spirit, as often as you desire, and we’ll soar over the mountain free, riding the gentle (clouds) winds, together in the land of the stars."

These riveting, enchanting words were drunk in with an eager ear by Berdis, and in time the tiny buds of love in her heart transformed into full blossoms, her mind made up she’d sworn thence, to forsake all other. Returning to the spot time after time, she’d listen with intent to hear more akin declarations of love, but the voice thereafter had become only an inaudible murmur and then, it had ceased altogether. Though alarmed, in her heart the hope persisted and flourished with a sure conviction that on her sixteenth birthday, whatever tribulation that beset (affected, plagued) him, it would be satisfactorily resolved.


07- BERDIS IN HER MID TEENS

In the meantime, now that she was in her mid-teens (15 years old), she’d grown into an exquisite beauty, and many young men in the village was secretly smitten with her.  Springtime, being sign for renewal, they sought to win her attention, akin bees drawn to an exquisite flower for pollination. She paid no heed to any of them however and continued to secretly frequent the fairy grounds at greater length; then on her return, became even more introverted. Disenchanted by all the mundane, trivial, hollow mortal pursuits, Berdis would oftentimes sit vacantly (indifferently) when she was cajoled (coaxed) into partaking with the many springtime festive occasions, celebrations and communal events; sometimes, she even feebly made the effort to join, just to appease her parents, though her heart was never in it. Increasingly detesting these irksome obligations, she walked among her people with detached air, her heart suffused in melancholy, as though she was a passing spirit not belonging to that world anymore.

In fact, gradually with the passing of each day her secret communions with the phantom Dragon had so intensified that it had captivated her heart entirely.  Meanwhile, her growing strange detachment from the accepted norm now alarmed her parents who began suspecting that some evil spirit had enticed her into its clutches and had cast upon her a charm which she had not the power to resist.


08- ALEC AND ELIN (BERDIS'S PARENTS)

In private conversations late one night before going to bed, her father and mother had even considered those amassed marriage proposals that had been subtly offered but carefully put aside (for future consideration); an acceptance of one, could provide the means to ground Berdis in reality and rescue her from her furtive (secret), dire, obsession.

Among the considered suitors was a handsome, but rather conceited young man, three years older than Berdis, called Tamuz; and being the only son of an affluent merchant, he never lacked for anything. With such a propitious marriage, she would be well provided for. What Alec and Elin did not know however, during one of the spring festive events, Temuz had brazenly approached her, so sure he was of his charms, inviting her to be his partner for the finale (climax) group dance; however, the unthinkable had happened when she had flatly rejected him, choosing to partner instead, with the timid young man called Kenny, that stood beside him. From that moment on, with his vindictive nature unleashed, she had been marked for conquest, to be subdued and tormented by his hand, under the banner of matrimony, in months to come. As his parents had patiently awaited the response to the recent marriage proposal put forth to Alec, Temuz meanwhile, taking matters into his own hands, had stealthily engaged his bond servant to discreetly monitor Berdis’s comings and goings, looking for key opportunity to sully her reputation, hence to succinctly, even earlier, achieve his diabolical aim.  


09-TEMUZ

He did not have to wait for long, when one day at crack of down, Berdis was seen secretly leaving her home and heading into the woods. Informed thus, Temuz, was soon in hot pursuit.  Quickly overcoming his innate fear, Temuz, had unseen followed Berdis into the depths of the forbidden zone and subsequently, concealed by a huge trunk, he had overheard Berdis, quietly seated at a rock, by the side of the Cavern’s opening, murmuring to some phantom companion, her entreaties (appeals) just then: “Oh, my dear, dear friend!” Berdis had whispered, her heart palpitating with intense emotion for gradually, though she’d never laid eyes on him, Dragon Longze’s gentle, wise, noble ways had captivated her heart and made her fall deeply in love with him. “Dear, sweet and gentle master of the skies and the foaming lake do not forsake me now, but visit thou my nightly pillow once more, shedding over its silver dreams of mountain brook and pebbly rivulets. Spirit of the starry night; lead my footprints to the blushing, burning passionflower that shines with a carmine hue. Why have you been silent these last few months, speak to me, I entreat you,” she’d pleaded, looking away from the beautiful young pines which lightly swayed their green leafy limbs over her head and gently brushing her face, to cast her passionate gaze at the entrance of the cave. “I am here my love. Embrace me, your Berdis, with thy powerful mind, liken to the ones spring unfolds from its sweetest flowers, or hearts that to each other show their inmost adoration. Soon, my dear, when your chains are no more, we shall be together, never to part.”



“Ahahh!!! I caught you now, you wanton (lustful) harlot! How long have you been having these immoral rendezvous?” Temuz stepped forward from his hiding place, threateningly shaking his fist. “To think we all believed you were so pure, so pious!  Hah!”  With his ugly, hateful visage, he advanced menacingly towards her, to grab her arm and drag her back, so as to denounce her publicly in the centre of the village.  

End of Part 1

                                                                                          ~                                                    

Wednesday, 7 May 2025

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 18

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 18

"How long is it going to take you to sharpen that Axe and machete, boy?  Hurry up, Yaggy, we haven't got all day." he urged the second son. Aguda was about to instruct Kenny to undress (disrobe, unclothe) the victim, when the excited barking noise of the caged canines(dogs) alerted him to his cousin’s early arrival.

“Blast; he’s back already?”  Too late, Aguda heard his cousin Yagu’s advancing unsteady footsteps.

 Where is everybody? The old man with curses on his lips, clung tightly onto the railing for security and, hauled his tired old body up as he, same time negotiated the soggy stone steps of the porch.

Aguda, having dropped his booty in the corner, had quickly rushed outside the kitchen door, passed through the hallway and now strove to block the old man's way with a barrage of questions.


01- YAGU DORKA

"Yagu, what a fine time it is too, you finally got back!  You’ve been gone for so long that we were worried sick to death, thinking that something terrible might have happened to you on the way.  Next time you don't go alone, you'll take Zog with you.  Well, what did the doctor say?  Is your condition serious or not? How was the trip?"

"As if you care!" the old man interrupted Aguda's patter with a restraining hand gesture.  "Never mind about me, but you sure look guilty. And wipe that grin off your face and answer me quickly, what are you up to now?  I bet you, is it something sinister, disgusting or decidedly evil? “

Seeing the other’s hesitation, Yagu angrily snapped. “Don’t try denying it; I've already seen the horse in the stable."  Yagu shook an angry, accusatory finger before the innkeeper's face then pushed him aside to enter the kitchen.

 "And what's this, your latest victim?"  He intended to say more but his rage caught in his throat, and he collapsed into a violent fit of coughing.

"Now look at the state you've brought upon yourself!"  Aguda, showing concern, rushed to his side and helped him into a chair.  He slapped Yagu on the back several times, hard, to loosen the phlegm in his cousin's lungs.  After turning to address his son Kenny, “Stop what you’re about to do!” Aguda ordered him, “And go fetch Yagu a hot cup of tea at once.” 

Gradually, Yagu's purple coloring faded as his coughing fit subsided.

Outside, a kid's voice was heard; pleading to be allowed to join his grandpa in the kitchen but this was soon cut short by shout, “he doesn’t need you to bother him now,” and the sound of a hand smartly striking his cheek.  The sniffling youngster was then forcefully dragged away by the teenage boy Kenny who, despite his usual tepid (apathetic, indifferent) nature, was a cauldron of evil, an actual brute in his own right. 


02- KENNY

The old man Yagu wished he had the strength to intervene, but abuse of this sort was all too common in this household.

Aguda snatched the steeping (infusing) hot teapot from Kenny’s hand and poured part of the infusion (tea) into Yagu’s cup to distract him from his grandson’s plight. 

"Here you go, have a bit more; it will warm you up.  You've given me terrible fright just now; you know you mustn't get so excited (worked-up) in your condition."  Seeing the old man had calmed a bit, he coaxed, "Look how you're still dripping wet.  Why don't you go change into some dry clothes and forget everything else.  I'll take care of things here."

His face growing red once more, the old man's temper flared anew.  Rasping in his dry, harsh voice, he pounded the table with his trembling hand and cursed, "You are going to get us all damned to Hell!  You want me to turn a blind eye to the murder of one of our guests; and this foul murder committed just under my very own roof? “Yagu shook his head and then somberly added: “Robbing them is one thing but butchering them in that hideous manner is inhuman!  I absolutely refuse to condone it!"  Again, he coughed, and drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"Call it what you will." Aguda (already feeling a tinge of guilt) lost his temper; highly incensed at this reprimand, he then snarled: “You know very well that we must do this to be safe.  What makes you so high and mighty?”

But then regretting his outburst, in a gentler voice he reasoned. “Dear cousin, buying this cursed inn was your idea to begin with; I wanted to open up a wine shop in town but, no, you wanted a roof over our heads.  You wouldn't hear of it.  Still, it was a fine idea while the customers were steady."

Yagu’s stern expression had not altered in the least. Angered anew, Aguda sat down with a disgruntled huff and pounded the table with his fist.  "Things have changed now, so get used to it."

Aguda ground his teeth, then after a moment’s silence again warned as he, same time shook an irate finger at the old man.  "When things started to go bad, and I wanted to pack up and start a new business elsewhere you wouldn't hear of it.  Your procrastination has cost us what little money we could have gotten from the sale of the Dancing Bear.  Now it’s too late.  Yet we still have to pay taxes and extortion money to those vultures to keep them from feeding on our carcasses.  You know those bastards only care about lining their pockets.  What do they care about if we are barely able to carve out our subsistence?  The first time we fail to produce the money they'll beat us to a pulp and haul us all off, you and your precious grandson included, to debtor’s jail where we'll assuredly meet a miserable end.”

"So, I ask you, what would you have me do?  Well?"  The innkeeper paused just long enough to give emphasis, but not enough for Yagu to respond. 


03- AGUDA

"Robbing them is one thing, you say, but if we don't dispose of the corpse completely, would we not run an even greater risk of being discovered?  Do you know what the penalty for robbing unsuspecting customers is?  I'll tell you, it’s the same as committing murder. In jail, once under duress they have extracted your confession and promptly pronounced you guilty, without the benefit of trial, you’ll be beaten to death. The executioner would then cut off your head and post it on spike (spear) at the city gate, as a warning to others. And your headless corpse, well, I don’t need to remind you what happens to that."

Seeing the old man cringe and give an involuntary shudder, “That's right." Aguda reasserted.  "Remember, cousin, I once used to be a clerk at the Magistrate's Office before my unjust dismissal.  I know what goes on in those dark cells.”

“Oh, you can be certain I make no exaggerations here.  Far worse, far more appalling crimes against human dignity are practiced there on a daily basis than we could ever have committed here.  So don't talk to me about law or humanity, as far as I am concerned there is only one law, one rule for me and my family to follow, the law of survival.  I must do all I can to subsist, even if it means vending (selling) my soul to the demons, to do it.  So, don't think that you can deter my aim, with your sanctimonious air or nagging!”

"I toiled so hard; all those years of tough grind, all those years of hard work; where did it ever get me or you?  You're still pining away for your lost son.  Well, I've got three living ones and a wife here to think of.  Shall I leave them all to starve, or be tortured?

No… Absolutely not!   I'll be damned if I give them up without a fight!”

“And what about your precious grandson; are you willing to sacrifice him so easily to accommodate your principles?  You know that nothing will grow on this wretched, barren soil, and that we're too strapped now to move out. So don’t go on being so censorious! Besides, what makes you think it’s any different out there?  Maybe it’s worse."  Aguda, having had his say, at the end of this long tirade, rather smugly now, leaned back and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead.

"You could talk around the devil himself!" Yagu snapped back, having got his second wind and now that his cousin had finally stopped his rant.

 His stern eyes scrutinized Aguda, then, stricken with sudden remorse, Yagu hung his head, and he softened. His next remark lacked fire.  "Yes.", he acquiesced, for he could no longer dispute the other's arguments.

 Though his conscience had greatly pained (hurt) him, had he not always, as he had now, given in to their inexorable predicament?

Yagu’s head hung lower in deep shame, for even though he did not engage in the brutal act, turning a blind eye to it, time and again, did it not make him an accessory (accomplice) to Aguda’s crimes?   Yagu shared just as much guilt.  And besides, when the matter of their survival hung in the balance, overriding any question of morality, what right did he have to exonerate himself and load all the blame on his cousin, marking him, shamelessly, in front of his sons as the sole villain when the end result benefited all of them?

Coughing violently, Yagu rose and drew near to the table, bending over to have a better look at the latest victim, meaning, perhaps, to silently beg this stranger's forgiveness.  His eyes examined the scholar’s features, pausing (his gaze) at length on the face.

Odd, he looks strangely familiar? Hmmm…. Yagu mused, cupping his chin in his hand.

“I feel as though I've seen him somewhere before, but perhaps with a short beard …”

“Oh, Heaven’ forgive me! Can he be… is he that most remarkable youth, of four years ago?”  Suddenly his eyes bulged and astonished, his mouth dropped open.

Still, he needed to be certain; so, he drew his face ever closer and burrowed his scrutinizing eyes (stare) on Nevetsecnuac.



 But how could that be?  He shrugged his shoulders, bit the corner of his lower lip and stamped his feet in vexation.

Yaggy, meanwhile, having just then finished honing the hatchet’s blade, excitedly brought the shiny cleaver (axe) over to his father.  He stood most eager to begin the carnage (butchery).

Aguda signaled his son to wait.  "Listen, cousin," he then approached Yagu, suspecting that the old man was still wavering, "you know it’s got to be done, so why don't you leave us, since you can't stomach the sight.  Rid yourself of those pesky wet clothes and lie down to rest, before you make your ailment worse.  I'll have Kenny to bring you some more hot tea."

"But I think I know this young man!" Disregarding Aguda's words, Yagu turning, looked up with a flushed face to exclaim excitedly.

 He held up a restraining hand to freeze Aguda's query or retort.  "Just give me a moment longer will you, just to make sure."

"Surely you aren't telling me that you, a peasant, know a rich scholar?" Aguda mocked Yagu, then frowning, shook a finger at the old man.  "If this is another one of your stalling tactics, I warn you..."

The old man was totally absorbed with Nevetsecnuac.  "Oh, by the Gods!"  Suddenly he uttered a cry as he jerked back, his hand now clasped to his mouth.

 "Yes, no doubt about it.  It’s him!  It’s definitely him!"  Yagu’s complexion turned ashen (ghostly pale) as the realization of what had almost happened dawned on (occurred to) him; horror gripped his heart, and the words congealed in his throat.

 "What is it, cousin?" Aguda clasped the old man on the shoulder, truly concerned.

"What's wrong with you...? What is it that ails you?”

“Answer me first, his name… what was the name he gave to you?”

“I don’t know… You expect me to remember his name? What difference does it make?

"You don't understand!" Yagu clutched at Aguda's collar, jerking him forward, almost choking him with an unusual strength.

 "This…. This is the very young person who, four years ago, delivered me and my grandson from those bandits.  It's with his money that we bought this place, fool!  He’s the one who……” His explanation was interrupted with another spell of violent coughing.  As he habitually massaged the pain in his chest, great beads of sweat (appeared) burst out on his forehead.

"I'm dam sure, most assuredly, it’s him!  He's the one who avenged my son Ake's death, restored my grandson Lerty to me, and gave me the funds to buy this inn." Yagu hoarsely reiterated; then rubbed his burning throat to bring some relief.

 "Haven't I always had a good memory for faces?  Once I hear him speak, I'll be more certain."

"So, this isn't definite after all?" Aguda caught the slip.

“Tell me, try to remember… Was his name … Svein, Svein…. something?"

“Come to think of it, it might have been…… But still, how can you be so positive it’s the very youth? You’d mentioned that your benefactor was a skilled fighter but said nothing about him being a scholar?" Aguda demanded with skepticism, not liking the idea of releasing prey already in his snare.

Yagu’s coughing subsided; the old man looked up to burrow his resentful gaze into Aguda's eyes and sternly dictate, "Read my lips. Killing this young man is now totally out of question, not until I've made certain, at least, that it isn't him. Do I make myself clear?  I may be guilty of many things, but I will not go to my grave, accused of ingratitude.  If I'm wrong, you can drug him again later.  Now, quick, get me the antidote!"

"This is insane!  Think of what you're asking me to do, cousin." Aguda stamped his foot.  "Why should I, on your mere suspicion, spare his life then waste more of the precious poison on him?  If we revived him and, he turned out not to be your savior, what then?  You may be willing to let this chance slip away, but I'm not.  Besides, you can see how formidable he looks, even when he's unconscious.  When he comes to, won't he know we've drugged him?  Won't he ask questions, that is, if he doesn't beat us to death first without waiting for any explanation?  Why should I place us all in jeopardy on a mere chance that this was your young man?"

"Listen to papa, Uncle." the three boys broke their silence in unison to give support to their father.

"If he is the young man I met, he would not harm us." Yagu was adamant. 

"I'd stake my life on it.  You're not going to change my mind one bit," he threw a fierce look at the boys, "even with this army of support.  You may all think me unreasonable but, on this, I will stick to my principles.  Besides, we could always talk our way out of it, what's so hard about that?  Leave the explanations to me.”

"Now, give me the antidote at once, before it’s too late!" he barked, his demand.

"And don't try to deceive me and say that it’s already too late, I can tell from his coloring that he can still be saved!” With those words he also put a quick end to Aguda’s poised counter arguments.

Seeing that it was pointless to deter his cousin, Aguda grumbled under his breath,

 "I suppose we could add poison to his meal later on."  Handing the keys of the victim’s room to Yagu, Aguda then rushed off to retrieve the antidote himself.

 Yagu, wasting no time, quickly took charge and had the two older boys Zog and Yaggy carry the still unconscious scholar (Nevetsecnuac) back to his room while the younger boy Kenny went to fetch the scholar’s possessions, that of which Aguda had just dropped in the hall.  The unconscious scholar was then gently placed on the bed.

Zog, the strongest boy, pried open Nevetsecnuac’s mouth just a crack to allow Yagu, who had just received the antidote from Aguda, to pour a generous portion of it down the scholar’s throat.

"Not so much!  A little works just as well, you know."  The infuriated Aguda spent his rage by slapping Zog hard on head, then returned to the kitchen, swiping at the youngest as he passed by.

"Now scarper (get lost, beat it); both of you clear out of here!"  Yagu taking charge, ordered Yaggy and Zog with a wave of his hand.  "He'll be coming around soon.  Close the door behind you; and Zog, do tell your father to keep it quiet out there!" Yagu yelled out specifically so that Aguda could hear, before he leaned back on the chair panting from all that exertion.

                                                                                        

(END OF SECTION 18)

 

Saturday, 29 March 2025

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 7

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 7

For the remainder of that morning Svein, riding alongside Fradel, had respectfully kept his silence understanding that a serious grievance was at the root of Fradel's reverie. 


NEVETSECNUAC

Most appreciative of this quiet, Fradel struggled hard but without avail, to dispel the gruesome, vivid images forming in his mind's eye: The mound of earth, overgrown with grasses and bush, the old man sitting at its edge, perfectly motionless, the gnarled walking cane resting unused on the earth beside him; these visions still persisted in haunting his peace and try as he might, after all this time, he could not purge his heart of a dogged, all-consuming despondency and guilt.

Currently, Fradel’s mind yet again ruminated (cogitated, recollected) of that long ago, the unpleasant happenstance (twist of fate, quirk) which should have been ordinarily locked in his subconscious psyche. Fradel inhaled deeply and sullenly harked back to that time when on route to Terek  he’d, sighting a solitary seated figure some distance down the road, assumed the old man to be asleep or in a trance; but, when a shaft of sunlight suddenly peeped through the dense rain clouds, Fradel’s acute vision had then noted the glistening tears streaming down the man's pale, wrinkled, sunken cheeks.  Now ordinarily, he would have sent his stewards to make inquiries but, propelled by an unexplained, strange desire, he’d dismounted at the edge of the roadside. As he was hot, he first took off his garment’s (top) outer layer and, handing this and the reins of his stead to one of the stewards, meanwhile, (ignoring) paying no heed their strong protests, ordered them to stay put, then went forth to investigate.

 



 As he advanced towards the old man, he’d for a spell, experienced some trepidation but kept on with determined steps regardless, climbing the rocky, uneven hillock, till he had reached the sorrowful being.  Halting a few steps back, he'd respectfully bowed in greeting, introduced himself as gently and politely as he could, however, giving him a pseudo-name Serek Vern, which Fradel had adapted wishing to be anonymous during his travels, and then, inquired about the old man's health and possible needs.

The old man appearing oblivious to it all, had at first, remained perfectly still. 

Fradel (Serek), nevertheless, being reluctant to leave him in that state, he’d advanced ever so slightly closer and was about to accost him anew when the old man sharply raising his head, seething, glared at this bothersome, pesky stranger.

Dokurek, which Fradel Rurik Korvald later came to know his name, had initially acted with uncalled-for hostility.  His cold, gray eyes had burrowed fiercely, contemptuously into Fradel's and lingered there, scrutinizing him, for a long spell. 

At the time, the icy, hateful gaze, like a frozen blade, had stabbed at Fradel’s empathetic heart!

Even after some elapsed time, while Fradel had assumed he was making inroads with Dokurek, the old man, with obstinate hardness, had retained his original skepticism of Serek’s (Fradel's) ignorance of the common facts, of his naiveté and his motives.  But, gradually, bit by bit drawn out of his shell, he’d thawed, then eventually entrusted Serek (Fradel) with the truthful accounts and factual answers to his persistent inquiries. 

It turned out that Dokurek's two promising scholar sons had been buried alive beneath that nearby mound along with some three hundred and twelve other literati.

This revelation shook Fradel, then and to date, to the core of his being. He’d never been the same since.

"And, make no mistake about it,” Dokurek had nodded gravely, pointing a bony finger, "this mound is but one of many.  Yes, many, many, more, most containing even more corpses than this, exist scattered throughout this great country of ours."

 Dokurek, moreover, added with such bitterness in his voice: “They even built roads over some, so tread carefully young man, the next time your path crosses one of these.  They have no respect for the living, why should they have any for the dead?"  Inclining his head downwards again, he'd scoffed contemptuously, as hot tears once more glistened in his eyes, but he’d bit his lip angrily to stem them.


Noting disbelief in Serek’s (Fradel’s) eyes, he’d swallowed hard, then grinding his teeth, announced sourly, "And secretly, ever so secretly, it's still going on!" His face was contorted with pain and anger, yet he could not stop now.  "When the scholars suffered such a fate, you might ask, what became of their families?"  He shook his head vehemently, "I'll tell you what!  Some were banished to the frontier where they were sold into slavery, some into forced labor or killed outright and all, without exception, had their property confiscated.  And why the hell not…There is great profit to be had in this sort of vile undertaking by the greedy, grasping patricians (nobles, aristocrats).  In many instances they fabricated charges to fill their coffers and to construct a powerbase.   In these dark times, justice is always trampled underfoot by the selfsame rapacious bureaucrats.  A slander without proof in the ears of the right person would be sufficient for a court of law to proscribe the victim.  On pain of death, who would dare mount a defense or champion the righteous cause?”

It became clear to Fradel that the old man was speaking from bitter personal experience; and that he, too, had fallen prey to the greed of akin official.

"And I thought he was a close friend!"

 Fradel raised his eyes from the old man's clenched fist to see him staring once more in the direction of the mound. 

"And to think my son held him in such high esteem!  Bah!” Dokurek turned angrily to spit on the ground.  "Curse you, and a curse be upon your whole family!  May you and your descendants be cursed forever in Hell?"  Dokurek's chest rapidly rose and fell in fury, until he finally grew a bit calmer.

"The reason for these atrocities...  How is it possible, you may ask?  Ah!” he fixed his dubious, pained, angry pupils above his deep-set, gaunt(boney) cheeks on Serek Vern (Fradel Rurik Korvald).

 "Have you had no knowledge of these sort of vile deeds at all, none?  What about the foul happenstance (coincidence) that had reportedly claimed Taok Therkan’s life?” Dokurek asked skeptically.

"Taok Therkan?” Fradel furrowed his brow, and then confessed to, in his remote dwelling having scant news of the famed scholar, save for once, being lucky enough, to have come across one of Taok’s brilliant essays. Impressed, he’d sought to procure more, with no result; meanwhile, the mystery, the silence surrounding the scholar Taok Therkan had never been satisfactorily explained to Serek Vern (Fradel) and he, at present, implored Dokurek to enlighten him on this subject.

Dokurek shook his head, "It's inconceivable to think,” he looked straight at Serek Vern, considering: “how could your family have been spared this ferocious, evil tide that has swept the nation?  I know of this from the mouths of many, that these long years have been anything but brutal to all Literati. Why should you, your family be spared? And now standing before me you lay claim to knowing nothing?  No, you're false!  Worse, you must be an informant, a spy!  Is it conceivable that you are sent by that cursed Zaur to...?”

 Dokurek looked down to hide the sudden manifest disdain from his eyes then fretfully, stealthily looked about him.

 His eyes rested on Serek Vern 's servants, then narrowed into slits.  "And why should you be bothering with the likes of me?  Why not sic one of your dogs on me and have done with me?  Or is it your delight to first toy with your prey?"

 He turned an angry, defiant gaze back at Serek Vern only to meet the scholar's somewhat indignant, perplexed face.

 Dokurek immediately regretted his suspicious outburst.

Fradel had surmised later how, at this point Dokurek was filled with a great need, a burning desire to believe in someone, anyone, while the flames of his life-force still burned in him. His past misjudgments had cost him dearly and rendered him cautious, distrusting all; now and always seeking, expecting some sinister motive behind every kind of gesture. 

For a time, the old man had remained nonplused, shaking his head and mouthing half-crazed, barely comprehensible mumblings as he turned a deaf ear to Serek Vern's gentle arguments. 

"But there is nothing to be gained in trapping me.  It was not my will, my wish that my sons were scholars.  Besides, what do I possess now?  In my heyday, sure, I had substance then. Even ten years ago I had means, holdings to be coveted.  I commanded such respect!  But now…now I have nothing, nothing of any value or use to anyone.  Nor do I have any surviving affiliates left to be targeted.”

“But then, hmm, yes, you do look the kindly, honest sort. Suppose I take a chance?  Perhaps I've been too hasty in suspecting you?  I mustn't let my paranoia cloud my judgment.”  Dokurek continued mumbling to himself as though Serek Vern (Frade)l was not there.

Fradel, in exasperation having fallen silent, threw a cursory look at his impatient men and then thoughtfully looked down; in fact, he was (considering) of a mind to leave this insane old man when, catching the last part of what he had said, convinced Fradel to persevere just a bit longer.


 “Yes, you may be my very last chance."  Dokurek suddenly ceased his mumbling and decisively looked up. His eyebrows unraveled and he made a genuine effort to smile in a friendly manner.

"Forgive my obstinate ways, sir, but you can hardly blame me.  It's all the more incredible that you are a bona fide scholar.  No doubting that.  I'd even venture a guess that you come from a long line of illustrious scholars."  Allowing Serek Vern (Fradel), no chance to agree or dispute his statement, he nodded vigorously, "Furthermore, my eyes can attest to the truth of your claim that you are a stranger to these parts and that you must have led a life of seclusion, that’s why I’ve never heard of your name, a self-imposed recluse perhaps?"

 Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) reaction confirmed this guess and reassured, Dokurek leaned back, smiling.

 "Also, your distinguished attire, your decorum and fine, polished speech makes it all too evident that you are a well–off gentleman, perhaps an aristocrat.  A recluse scholar from an undisturbed sanctuary who has managed to prosper in these volatile times, an anomaly?” the old man shook his head, amazed.

Despite the tinge of sarcasm in his tone, Fradel had read no malice in Dokurek's face.  This perplexed him more.  And what did Dokurek mean by 'very last chance'?

Dokurek cleared his throat then in a softer tone rattled on, "You are so unassuming, so patient and not the least bit arrogant.  You have a great disposition.  You are by all appearances a good man, not unlike my Kuer.  Still, all the more reason for you to beware!"  He fixed his intense gaze at Serek Vern (Fradel) and said a bit more forcefully.  "You watch yourself young man!  Guard your words, his spies are everywhere.  His policies may undergo yet another change, and quite suddenly, too.  Then you're gone.  Pouf!  In one day.  Or worse still, it may all be a hoax, a scheme to finally entrap you.  I'm curious, though, what part of the country did you say you're from?  Which remote region was it that you hid in?"

Fradel had made no such claim, but his denial was cut short by a gesture of Dokurek's hand.  "No, don't tell me.  I'd rather not know.  Such knowledge is of little use to me now, anyway.  It's enough to know that there is some small corner of this Empire that was spared, where the forces of evil could not wreak havoc."  Dokurek abruptly fell silent and looked away, his eyes resting on the two small mounds nestled under the swaying branches of a willow tree.


 After a time, Dokurek turned to face Serek Vern (Fradel) and with eyes brimming with fresh tears, reiterated his warning, "You must beware!  It's too late for my boys and it's too late for me.  I've got one foot in the grave already, but you..."  He smiled warmly at Fradel.  “I can't emphasize the importance of this enough.  He's like a jackal, a wild beast on the prowl.  His poisonous tentacles reach the four corners of the Empire, and it makes no difference what service you may have rendered him.  Disaster can befall you at the most unexpected turn. Under his rule, all manners of evil flourish and you can never, ever anticipate when the next catastrophe strikes!  So, it’s best you remain vigilant in safeguarding your life.”

Fradel was distracted just then by a debased snigger (snort, chortle) from his servants who had drawn close and were very much engaged with their heads pressed together in animated, amused mockery.  More infuriating still, Fradel’s ears picked up the steward’s disdainful ridicule, "Crazy as a Cakook!"  As if to demonstrate he then stood up, flapped his elbows, craned his neck and began drawing circles with his toes on the ground as he mimicked the bird.

 In mid twirl his eyes caught Fradel's fierce look of reprimand.  Chastised, the servant froze in his position. Similarly, the rest also cowered with stilled tongues and abjectly bowed their heads. 

When Fradel turned his eyes back to the old man, he found Dokurek keenly studying him.

"I'm right about you.  This time I'm right.  My salvation may just be at hand.” he mumbled then quickly looked away to escape Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) questioning gaze.

This time it was Fradel's turn for skepticism.  Had this all been a well-orchestrated performance, a charade on Dokurek's part?  Was he testing me?  Testing me for what?   Fradel had heard of cases where men touched by madness would slip into and out of reality, one minute sane as could be, the next, steeped in peril and precarious, imaginary fantasies.


As if surmising this, Dokurek looked up at Serek Vern (Fradel) and smiled wryly, "I wish it were so but, alas, my penance is to remain completely sane, mindful of all my past wrongdoings.”

“All right, I will tell you everything.  I've kept my silence long enough…but not here, not within earshot."  He indicated Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) servants with a wary look and a point of his chin.

 He rose and Fradel, signaling his men to stay put, followed the old man to a distant spot.

 

(END OF SECTION 7)