LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 16

 "Once Zakhertan Yozdek had ascended the throne, the ensuing years had been the unparalleled goriest eon (era, age) in history." Hugen resumed his narrative (chronicle) after guzzling some more wine.  When he held out the jug for Uyuk to partake some, the latter, however, had declined, saying he had far too much already, that he would abstain for a while till his head cleared a bit, he just needed a breathing space, a respite.  Uyuk had urged Hugen nonetheless, to freely indulge, as the long night after all, stretched out before them.

01- UYUK  (20)JP

Yea, right! Hugen inwardly scorned, despising Uyuk for this unwarranted deceit.  Why feign such weakness?  Hugen knew Uyuk had not reached his limit, not by a long shot…Latter could handle more, quite a bit more.  Hugen knew this for a fact.  Not as much as he can, perhaps.  Still… 

For a spell he considered goading Uyuk until the latter dropped his guard and relented. Then again, why bother, Hugen dismissing the notion, good humouredly shrugged and helped himself to some more wine.

Uyuk, despite his feigned inebriated state, keenly, from the corner of his eye had scrutinized Hugen, for the faint-hearted could not have managed the quantity of strong spirits Hugen had consumed thus far and remained still, maddeningly so, sober. Considering the extreme potency, the wine had cost Uyuk quite a substantial sum; this brand of smooth, fruity blend being particularly high in alcohol content, should have way before this intoxicated/incapacitated the most resilient (robust constitution) of men, but not Hugen! Why was that?

The corner of Hugen’s mouth slightly lifted as if in amusement, anticipating Uyuk’s inner query, and he looked away; fact is, he needed to consume at least four or five times the amount, to be totally inebriated or brought to a happy state; a condition he'd rarely indulged and always had done so in solitude. After a while the amassed consumed quantity, however, had eventually derived some adverse effect; the consequential fleeting moment of light headedness and nostalgic reflections nevertheless, through sheer willpower quickly dispensed (passed), Hugen once more reverted his somber gaze on Uyuk.  His head, his thoughts the product of a cool, calculating mind once more lucid and unequivocally defined, Hugen’s deliberations was again embroiled in the selfsame grave, harsh realities of life. 

What's more, after the subsequent several swigs (mouthfuls) of this fruity concoction (booze), far from being mellowed out, his senses disappointingly instead, had felt tauter (tense, wound up); hence, Hugen disdainfully put the jug aside and, his breathing regulated, he indolently stretched out his limbs. But this did little in dousing the fire coursing in his hot veins, his muscles twitching and flexing in an invisible restless craze, yearning to engage in a mortal combat with an invincible, (challenging)formidable foe.

Affixing his gaze to the far corner, his hankering heart tinged with sadness, Hugen thoughtfully reflected on the multitude, past, memorable combats; there was singular one that stood above the rest, General Zonar Kuntzu, a warrior with indomitable prowess. Hugen had heard much about his fame, his brilliant feats. Unfortunately, Hugen's line of work had kept him always on a different course than the General’s; but once he had been fortunate enough to have been an eyewitness to a friendly combat between the General Kuntzu and another competent fighter. The breathtakingly spectacular fight had ended the same way, with General Zonar Kuntzu being the victor as always.

02-GENERAL ZONAR KUNTZU

Hugen donned an ironic smile on his lips and looked away. How easily General Zonar Kuntzu had bested his opponent!

After that day Hugen had honed his martial skills so that one day, he could try his own luck against the General; however, when finally, his competence was up to par (the equivalence), fate had cruelly intervened to cheat him out of that opportunity.

Inclining his head, Hugen with a blank stare studied Uyuk, thinking inwardly how Uyuk unfortunately presented no such challenge.  True, he had never pitted his martial skill against Uyuk but he had observed Uyuk's ability in combat with others and, though his partner was comparatively good, Hugen had concluded that he could easily defeat (best) him without resorting to draw upon any of his special expertise. There was one thing Uyuk excelled in, however, his ability to... Hugen threw Uyuk a covert look.  Only that, he nodded. Yes, I’ll have to watch out for that.  In a way Hugen was grateful for Uyuk's somewhat amenable company.  At least Uyuk amused him, not like those intolerable, overconfident, superstitious boors whose presence strained his patience and made his blood boil.

Requiring more solitude, Hugen pointedly lent an ear to the howling of the gale force wind and the drumming, pounding of the rain pellets outside.  Oh, the nights are always so intolerably long.  Hugen inwardly moaned thinking, especially for one such as him who was an insomniac. Unfortunately, the pelting hail outside was a good deterrent for a long, brisk stroll, which was what he most desired at that moment.  Resigned to stay put, he shifted his weight to get more comfortable then, once more, somberly resumed his narration where he had left off: "Yes, we weren’t the only ones who’d suffered from his rancorous (malicious, spiteful ) wrath; all who’d tried to undermine or obstruct Zakhertan Yozdek's aim, all suspected loyalists and dissidents in Wenjenkun, were vengefully rooted out, vanquished or incinerated." 

Hugen’s eyes met Uyuk's gravely and he nodded.  "Furthermore, all who griped or raised even the slightest discourse of his harsh measures, among them countless brilliant scholars from various backgrounds, the nobility, courtiers, religious personages, priests, sages, hermits, even the stray beggars; all without exception were persecuted relentlessly and tortured before an ignominious death. The countryside, hence, is dotted with a multitude of man-made pits of death, sepulchres and catacombs where Zakhertan’s countless past and present enemies are all buried.”

Hugen paused for an effect and then resumed: “There are also hidden subterranean chambers of torture, (constructed) in Channing, equipped with abhorrent, specially designed instruments, which prolongs, any convicted felons or dissidents’ excruciating physical and mental agony before their ignominious (humiliating) end.  Some of the holding cells, chiefly used for minor offences, are all the same, ingeniously constructed to perpetuate (beget) permanent insanity; and that’s not all, but it would take me far too long to extrapolate on them all."  Hugen shrugged. "Perhaps another time, eh… Anyway, to put it succinctly, Zakhertan Yozdek's reign has been marked with extreme brutality unrivaled by anyone in history save perhaps, only by Deng Hedenko in present times."  He threw his head back and laughed at Uyuk's baffled look.

 "The Sovereign of Korion, ignoramus (numskull) you," Hugen paused to savor the other's stifled rage at the insult. "To continue; after consolidating his power Zakhertan Yozdek lost no time in raising another mammoth (gargantuan) force, this time to punish us anew, but by that time our Illustrious Sovereign Anguan Binchan had succumbed to a fatal illness, thus robbing Zakhertan of his chief grievance.”

“Korion, meanwhile, had been rocked by a volcanic eruption and three subsequent earthquakes that ravaged two major cities and most of the countryside which depleted the precious remainder of our valuable resources, our strength and vitality.  What real resistance a devastated and leaderless nation could have offered? Of course, that mattered little to such a blood-thirsty fiend Zakhertan; as a matter of fact, he had even taken it into account and used it to gain an even more swift and decisive victory." Hugen bristled.  "An honorable campaign was not something he’d consider in his evil plans.  In no time at all, his superior, predatory forces swept across the adjacent, inconsequential provinces to descend on us voraciously, with but one directive: to annihilate our race from the face of the Earth.”

03- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (22) JP

"Ah, but we (every citizen of Korion) were equally determined (resolute) to deny him his easy conquest.  Even though from the start our defeat was a foregone conclusion, our patriots resisted Zakhertan for a year and a half.  Hah!  I'd venture to guess that it was the costliest and bloodiest campaign Zakhertan had ever waged.  Alas!  Despite our courage and brilliant strategies, our impoverished army was pitted against an invincible rapacious force that, at the crucial point in the struggle, received fresh reinforcements.  I do admit that, towards the end Zakhertan's military manoeuvring and strategic offensives were flawless as only one who is the demon incarnate can devise.  In one ingenious, final stroke he had both rebel cities capitulate simultaneously."

Hugen exhaled deeply, morosely, "And so, on the solstice of the third lunar year of the reign of our Illustrious Sovereign Harkan Konzuran Binchan, a terrible nightmare was unleashed on us all."  At this point, Hugen's tongue was stilled by the anger, bitterness, and scorn he felt at the core of his being.

"Is it true what I had heard?  That after the Capital yielded Zakhertan had our late Sovereign Anguan Binchan's corpse exhumed, supreme sacrilege that it was, had it torn into minute pieces and then scattered in various cesspools throughout the country?"

"Yes," Hugen nodded grimly, "and that's not all.  On Zakhertan’s orders his men went on a rampage, digging up all the ancestral graves, some Centuries old.  They desecrated the corpses and had the remains discarded into fast flowing rivers.  The valuable artifacts were all plundered then shamelessly carted off (lugged) to their homeland."  Hugen dropped his head, swallowing hard.  "After the gruesome, ignoble execution of our Sovereign Harkan Konzuran Binchan, anyone with even a trace of royal blood was rounded up and humiliated in a public spectacle designed specifically to break our spirit before they, too, were executed.  However, this had quite the opposite effect, for it only strengthened (fuelled) our people's resolve."

Uyuk hissed; his absent gaze fixed at the far corner.

Hugen looked up sharply, pleased at the outrage in Uyuk, noting his face flushed to beet-red, his chest palpitating with indignation at the same time as his fists clenched so hard that, his nails drew blood from the sheer force and intensity of his feelings.  For a spell Hugen had forgotten Uyuk's true origin, but then, suddenly his thoughts darkened.

“Who are you trying to fool?  It was your kind, your race that inflicted these atrocities on us.”  He shook his head and bit his lip to contain his inner contempt. It was a strange idea, a hard concept for this hard-core patriot to swallow.  “No matter what, I cannot conceive of how anyone can forsake their own kind, their own race and country as absolutely as you have done, Uyuk! And for what reason, a personal grievance?” 

Seeing Uyuk in this light he questioned the other’s professed loyalty to Korion.  “What’s your actual ulterior motive?  What kind of game are you playing at anyhow?” With narrowing eyes, he covertly scrutinized his partner.

“Get a grip on your-self!” he fought the urge to strike, to act immediately.  “There’ll be ample opportunity later.  Go along for now, soon enough he will show his true colors and expose his dark heart.  You can deal with him then.”

But again, defiantly such bursting fury rose from deep within.  “Why on Earth had he bothered at all?  Why had he stuck his neck out for Uyuk in the first place?  Was it the element of danger, the challenge it posed?  Had he wished to exploit Uyuk as a game, a way to gratify his dark, morbid sense, his hatred for Uyuk's kind?  Or was it something entirely different, an alien concept long since abandoned; plain old pity?”  Hugen detested this new ambivalent feeling and looked down (lowered his gaze), trying to think of something else.

In his silent brooding, now with his eyelids closed, he reflected yet again how Wushing, his entire family, his colleagues and anyone who had been even remotely connected with him had all been hunted down and brutally eradicated (eliminated).  It mattered not whether they had been innocent lives, all ages of civilians.  Their fate had all been the same.  This extending to the (agrarian populations) countryside, the manifold atrocities that had been committed back then, to date hunted Hugen’s peace; countless ranchers (farmers, planters) had all been mercilessly cut down, their mutilated and mangled corpses piled high in heaps were then burned to ash. 

“In summation, Zakhertan Yozdek’s fierce persecution had extended way beyond those who had actively opposed him in both campaigns.  There had been so much blood spilled that for months after Korion's capitulation the rivers had ran red.  When pestilence struck during those warm months, it necessitated the burning of all the exposed corpses.  So many bonfires dotted the land, that the acerbic air stifled (burned) the lungs, while anguished wailing (cries) of mourners revibrated the land.”

04- HUGEN (54)jp

These were the haunting sounds and images which, permanently etched into his mind, had robbed Hugen of least peaceful, any tranquil existence.  Whether he was asleep or awake, the ongoing nightmares provided him no respite.  To present, Hugen's love for his country, his Sovereign and his craving for vengeance were all, what sustained him and gave some meaning to his wretched life. But alas, perpetually no absolution (pardon, release) was to be had, with his precarious, oftentimes violent existence.

"And it is for certain that one thing Zakhertan Yozdek had not counted on, was his own underestimation of the resilience of Korion’s ordinary folk." Uyuk , interceding, spoke up loudly, partly to test Hugen's state of (alertness) consciousness.

The slight frown on the other's features confirmed it, he was (alert and) awake. Uyuk was, of course speaking from personal experience.  Surviving the ignominious death of his mother and sister, he was on the brink of expiring himself when he had been given sanctuary and a second chance, by a tribe of nomadic herdsmen in Korion.  His foster father was one Muxor Kenny, a strong, stout warrior who never donned a smile.  Always rigid and stern, he had nevertheless taught Uyuk the survival skills that had served him well up to the present day. 

“Oh yes,” Uyuk inwardly scoffed (rebuked, chided), as he sized up Hugen quaffing some more spirits: “I am well aware of your low opinion of me and my skills. I may just one day shock the britches right off you, arrogant, smug bastard!”

 If the truth were to be known, Uyuk had it in his power to alter that opinion and countless times had been sorely tempted by Hugen's goading to show off and expose his deeply hidden talents. Indeed, Uyuk knew far more than he let on.  Despite his youth he had experienced numerous hair-raising, daring escapades that, if recounted, would boggle Hugen's mind, and earn him the respect and recognition he felt was his due.  Fortunately, his good sense had prevented him from doing that very thing.

Hugen, as if he had surmised other’s thoughts, suddenly looked up and meeting Uyuk's eyes directly, smirked; then in a conciliatory gesture, offered him the jug which the younger man this time obligingly took and raised it to his lips.

Even though Uyuk was parched, he took care to drink only a moderate portion however, just enough to wet his mouth, for it would not do if he were to become totally inebriated, despite the reliable company and relatively safe circumstances.  Feeling suddenly famished, he reached over and drew his bundle to him.  Groping about inside the sack, he found what he was looking for: the remainder of the dry rations.  He handed some to Hugen and, without ceremony the two began to tear and chew, the hard bits of venison to gratify their hunger.  Afterwards Uyuk stretched out his limbs and urged Hugen to continue with his recounting of his history.

Now more favorably disposed, Hugen picked up from where he had left off: "Time after time having encountered the gritty, dogged (resolute) resistance from every citizen of Korion high and low (ordinary folk), it soon became apparent to Zakhertan Yozdek that, Korion could not be governed by anyone other than our own.  The pacification of the rebellious tribes in the remote mountains proved particularly arduous and sanguinary.  The many costly expeditions aimed at annihilating these guerrilla fighters only resulted in a string of ignominious defeats at the hands of these nomadic herders. Many skirmishes, including those led by your foster-father Muxor Kenny, which incidentally, you’d failed to mention in your recruitment (enrolment) application.”

Hugen at this point, had abruptly fell silent, and then simply tossed Uyuk a knowing, fleeting smirk. 

05- MUXOR KENNY - KORION'S NOMADIC HORSEMAN

“To put it succinctly, these frays in time gave rise to other sporadic pockets of rebellion and soon after, there arose widespread, well organized, resistance of all sorts erupting simultaneously in all parts of the country.”

“Yes… we had demonstrated to them, once and for all, how this nation even though subjugated, could not be enslaved and all the oppressive measures, stringent laws and brutal, savage punishments would never, ever, crush our spirit or resolve!" Uyuk, getting a grip and pretending to be caught up in the moment’s hype (excitement), hissed.

Hugen gave (threw) him a pointed look, "As you seem to know the rest, I may as well save my breath." But Uyuk hastily leaned across to touch his shoulder and in an earnest voice protested his ignorance.  He confessed that, in his early pubescent (teenage) years, wanting to prove his worth to his foster-father Muxor Kenny, he had partaken in some acts of sabotage (resistance) but that he had never truly grasped the complete political picture; for his  subsequent adolescent (later teen) years were spent, totally cut off from any civilization, in the sacred Shouyou Mountains.  Appearing unusually co-operative, Uyuk without prodding volunteered that, this period had been lost to him, because he had been paying a penance for his serious breach of a key tribal law.

"What law?"

Uyuk's response was curt and cryptic.

“Have it your way.” Hugen inclined his head and inwardly scoffed: “I’ve offered you a chance to be straight with me, and yet again you’ve failed.  It’s your loss.” Of course, he knew all there was to it, he’d been well informed about Uyuk's unforgivable offense (felony, crime) and the consequential chastisement and more, much, much more.  He covertly kept Uyuk in his side-view as he grimaced coldly.

“Yes, that detailed report had encompassed data that, I suspect, even you are unaware of, my foreign friend.  I've trained my informants well, so well that they can even make the dead speak.  You would be surprised, no, shaken to your core if you knew what I know, that the one who had betrayed you, the key conspirator, was none other than you’re...”  Hugen averted his eyes. “No; why should I rattle your feathers?  Why destroy the only semblance of?”  Hugen turned (reverted) his stone-cold gaze back to Uyuk to look him straight in the eye.  But then suddenly an unexpected strong compassion seized his heart and his piercing pupils momentarily softened and he nodded.

When Uyuk once more entreated (beseeched) Hugen to enlighten him on the political aspects of Korion's and Wenjenkun's shared histories, Hugen quietly acquiesced, if only to pass the time.  Yet he did not begin right away, instead, he lent an ear for a spell longer to the pelting rain, which seemed to be tapering off. 

 

(END OF SECTION 16) 

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RESCUE - SECTION 9

(THE CONCLUSION OF THE RESCUE)

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know of him, sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

04- Lord Dazong Hedenko

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

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

GENERAL DENG HEDENKO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prime Minister of Kontu -Kwonsu Non

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

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

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

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

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

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

Teron Hedenko

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                            ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                                    ~

 

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