LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 9

Dokurak most thankful of the fact he had a sympathetic ear, with a secret purpose in mind had ceaselessly unburdened his heart: “Beginning a new life with only a measly pittance I had concealed from the authorities, I first purchased some worthless piece of land and after initializing irrigation, proper crop rotation and a great deal of work, managed to turn my luck around.  Soon the land began to yield a good return, enough at least for me to properly care for my children. “Dokurak, falling silent for a spell, looked down.

“Unfortunately, the former owner who’d sold the land to me for a song now regretted his hasty decision; additionally, most envious of me for the beget bounty (profits), have harbored a personal grudge against me.  That was the precursor of my fresh troubles.” Dokurek pensively shook his head.

"When my eventual pardon arrived, and I was allowed to settle permanently in this region I ignored my neighbor’s envy and animosity and falsely thought that the past had finally been put safely behind me. For a short while things looked promising. My sons, meanwhile, going against my will and ignoring my good counsel, chose not the agrarian (farming, rural) livelihood (occupation), but that of erudite (literate).  Then again, there was a measure of leniency in the law and a few good posts and desirable government positions were once again being made available to promising learnt (scholarly) candidates.    Gradually I relaxed my vigilance and even allowed my heart the joyful pride when one of my sons, Kuer, was promoted to a good position in the Magistrate's office.”

02- KUER

"How was I to know?  How could I phantom that some unscrupulous, grasping officials would, within a decade, instigate yet another onslaught against the Literate?  You see, in their greed, they had come to realize the immense profits that could be reaped from the land and property holdings of the successful intellectuals (scholars).”

"Zakhertan Yozdek, a military man and an autocratic landholder, had, despite his outward policies of leniency, still harbored in the crux of his being a deep contempt for the scholars because of their analytical (logical, critical) way of thinking and their accrued (amassed, retained in mind) vast reservoirs of knowledge of past rulers.  Meanwhile the extensive military campaigns he had waged to secure his throne and Wenjenkun’s borders had nearly depleted the treasury.  The Office of Revenue was already hard pressed to come up with additional sums via (by means of) burdening taxes and forced labor, and besides, extra funds were now needed for the new campaign against Korion.

“It took only a little persuasion and a staged incident by the new Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, to make the literati into scapegoats once more.  Thus, the holdings of these affluent families were laid open for pillage and were sold at auction once the unfortunates had been blamed for the discontent, turmoil and hardships that plagued the country.”

Dokurak suddenly stopped talking and after his long, dubious look at Fradel, his voice tinged with jealousy, he said:

“You have really been most fortunate, Serek Vern (Fradel Rurik Korvald), to have escaped these disasters… these genocides.  I wish that I had been empowered to do the same for my sons.  You see, I had the foresight; right at the beginning of it all, I had read the signs and predicted the outcome. The ill-fate hovering at cusp (verge, edge), over the horizon, had left all too prevalent signs for anyone intelligent or discerning, to be wary.  Foolishly, though, I imagined that my pardon and the quiet, model (exemplary) life I had led, would exempt me and my two sons from all of this impending (looming) catastrophe” Dokurek shook his head then sullenly bit the corner of his lip.

"My second mistake was to place too great a store in my influential friends and the Magistrate that had mentored Kuer.  I could not envision that they, too, would collude with my enemies and turn on me for a share of the gain.  Of that, I am sure.  That oversight, unfortunately, was my gravest mistake and for years I've been eaten alive inside, bit by slow bit, by the burden of regret I've carried in my heart.” Dokuek desisting tears, wrung his hands.

"My heart aches so sorely (agonizingly) whenever I think of my two boys…my poor, innocent boys!  When the disaster fell Kuer had been married two years and, what's more, his beautiful, virtuous wife, Luokil, was carrying my grandson. “

03- KUER AND HIS WIFE LUOKIL

"But alas, my world once more collapsed when Kuer and Ruek were arrested and taken away in chains.  I knew that the charges brought against them were pure fabrication, that there was no solid evidence at all to convict them on, so I immediately dispensed generous sums in bribing the right officials trying to buy justice and extricate my sons from (false) blame. “

04-KUER AND RUEK FALSELY CHARGED 

 “All my efforts were in vain, however, for they wanted it all.  My property was confiscated in the blink of an eye and sold for the state's gain to the very same people who had laid the false charges against us.  I was again, shortly after,  reduced to a beggar's state.”

“Kuer was well liked and had countless influential friends but none; none dared to speak up on his behalf when...” Dokurek, abruptly stopping,  bit hard the corner of his lip; anger and despair registering in his pupils, he looked yet again  in the direction of the large mount, quite oblivious of the trickling blood that slowly made its way down his chin.

"You can't imagine the anguish I felt at seeing my boys, as they were dragged mercilessly down the street in chains, then …. Then… buried alive under that accursed big mound." Dokurek swallowed and pointed.

"But not a whimper escaped their lips.  My heroic sons!  I would have ended my own miserable existence right then and there, but I summoned all my courage to live on, enduring misery and humiliation in order to care for my unborn grandson.” Dokurek swallowed hard, and eyes brimming with tears, he dismally (gloomily) shook his head.

“Alas, as cruel fate is, he and his mother both died in childbirth. She went into labor soon after she had witnessed her husband's murder, you see."  Pointing to the two smaller mounds under the weeping willow tree, adjacent to the big mound, Dokurek lamented in a choked voice, "They lie there, close to my son Kuer and Ruek.  I cared for their graves all this time and offered continuous prayers for their comfortable existence in the afterlife.  Now I'm old, too old and too feeble to be of much use to anyone.  I would have joined them long ago, but I have not a soul to count on to bury these old bones and I have nothing left to barter with."  He buried his head in his hands.

"Oh, all those years, how could I have been so foolish? How could I have been so utterly beguiled?” He lamented. “It’s taken me a lifetime to see the error of my ways.  My eyes are finally opened. But what good is all that now? If only I’d listened to my younger brother’s words for, he was right all along, right about a lot of things.  I’m filled with endless remorse that eats at my soul?”

“Still Heaven, it seems, has at long last taken pity on me."  Dokurek abruptly looked up, smiling wryly and, with the back of his hand, wiped away the deluge of tears that soaked his pallid cheeks and neck.

 "For here you are … Good sir, can I impose on you, can I rely on your compassion and good graces to perhaps trouble you, to do me this one last great favor?"

Fradel was nonplused by Dokurek's imploring gaze and, understanding his meaning, frowned.  "I shall not be party to your murder sir.  Surely you have many long years still ahead.  Do not despair.  You have persevered this long, undergone so much; perhaps an emancipated future..."

Before Fradel could finish the old man had flashed a blade he had concealed deep within the folds of his rags.  With a swiftness that belied his age, giving Fradel no chance to move, Dokurek buried the knife hilt-deep into his chest. But missing his heart just barely, he lived long enough to still implore Serek (Fradel).

"I do not deserve your kindness, sir. Ugg…. Still, I know you will not disappoint me.  Far too long have I endured this loneliness, burdensome guilt and unbearable heartache?  I make no excuses now and accept full blame for my past miserable life choices. Having paid some penance; let me embrace fate and join them now.  Please, pray that we all find peace in the… afterlife." He gasped his last breath and, (blood oozing from his mouth,) was no more.

Fradel had done the right thing by Dokurek and, although he had buried the old man's body in a mound next to his grandson and daughter-in-law under the same willow, all rites duly carried out, he still carried away with him the pain of Dokurek’s misspent life.

 

                                                                                    ~

Fradel was from then on burdened with a series of fresh concerns.  The guilt ate at him to the crux of his heart: guilt for being spared, for having led a privileged life of ignorance while so many had perished.  Fradel now pondered: Had he (Fradel) the right to do what he planned?  Wouldn't his intended actions unleash yet another bout of purges resulting in blood baths and fresh persecution of the Literati? 

This was at the root of Fradel's dilemma as he rode away from the graves beside the ruined hut.

Fradel, tersely now, as if with a special understanding, nodded.  Yes, things being the way they are, whatever I do will have little bearing.  The outcome would invariably be the same.  So long as evil reigns (rule) supreme and corruption festers like locusts on this land, salvation will be a distant dream for everyone.

 

                                                                                         

(END OF SECTION 9)

                                                                                              ~

 

 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)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 6

Svein (Nevetsecnuac) and Fradel Rurik Korvald (riding on horseback) were still some distance away from any settlement or an Inn when dusk fell.  As if to multiply Fradel's misery, suddenly strong winds ushered a flotilla of dark, ominous clouds, which threatened to let loose a downpour at any time.

 Just then they sighted a thatched hut in the distance, and, in silent agreement, they both steered their horses towards it.  Obvious signs told them that the place had long been abandoned. Two lonely graves outside and a stench rising from the well attested to the tragic story of its residents.

Nevetsecnuac pushed the door open with an eerie creak and, lighting a torch quickly surveyed the dilapidated state of the interior.  The lit torch at once caused the infestation of rodents, lizards and insects to scurry away.

Nevetsecnuac brushed away the cobwebs then pushed the broken furniture and debris to one side to clear out a corner.  Inviting Fradel to rest there, he went back outside to secure the horses and meet their requirements for food and water.  When he returned Nevetsecnuac found that Fradel had made good use of this time to clear out the stove and start a small fire using kindling and charcoal chips that littered the floor.

So, he's not as helpless without servants as he claimed. Nevetsecnuac mused.  Good!

That night, sheltered from the wind and rain, for the roof leaked in only one or two places, they shared dry rations boiled over the fire to make a stew.  Fradel, more accustomed to wine and savory dishes, consumed a good share of this food without complaint, washing it down with water.  To Nevetsecnuac’s relief, the pampered scholar had proved adaptable and, more to the point, resilient.

After they retired Fradel found it impossible to sleep.  The excitement of that day, the eerie atmosphere of the room, the pelting rain on the roof, his hard makeshift (improvised) bedding and the coarse food had all conspired to keep him awake.  As the night progressed his distress became even more acute.

Now every shadow, every sound stretched his nerves taut.  Several ugly visages leered menacingly at him from the dark corners of the room but when he sat up and stubbornly fixed them with his stare they reverted back to ordinary objects.  Again, he shot occasional glances in Svein's direction and seeing him in deep slumber, suppressed an urge to grunt a would-be protest, “For Heaven’s sake, how can you sleep so soundly?”

Exhausted, Fradel reclined once more, then becoming aware of someone else's presence, he jumped up. This time, however, the apparition (ghost, phantom) was outside of the window.  As the window had no covering, he walked towards it and at the same time strained his eyes to see through the dark, the just then manifest, vacillating (fluctuating) iridescent specter.   The form drawn to closer proximity, become clearer, and he could now make out the tragic countenance of an elderly woman, which presently stretched out her arms in supplication and sobbed: “Save me, sir!  Save me!” 

Fradel was about to respond when, suddenly, out of the pitch darkness, three fearsome black wolves materializing (emerging), leapt upon her and sank their long fangs into her flesh; with such a voracious appetite, their prey (target) was instantaneously gone. Subsequently, crunching the last remanence of bones and lapping up the victim's blood, the trio of wolves licked their fur clean, thence, all three menacingly directed their attention on Fradel. They pivoted their blazing eyes on Fradel and began advancing towards him with deliberate slowness, with their tongues lolling, drooling at the mouth, as they panted.

Fradel, recoiling in terror, could not move a muscle, especially since one of the black wolves suddenly appeared inside and right beside him.

Fradel, resigned to his fate, held his breath and closed his eyes, expecting to be mauled, disemboweled and eaten to the last morsel by the rapacious wolves; unexpectedly however, the beasts simply vanished, when Sven just then stirred and, without turning to face him, asked: "What is it?”

"Nothing, nothing at all; it was just a bad dream (nightmare).  I'm sorry to have awakened you."

 Of course, Fradel's disclaimer was belied by the beads of perspiration on his forehead.  He tasted their salt as they dripped onto his lips; currently back on his hard bedding, he sullenly reclined and turned his back to Svein, as if to sleep.

 My strained nerves are playing tricks on me. Fradel consoled himself.  I'd best try to get some sleep.  With determination he closed his eyes tight but, just as he was about to drift off into the dream world, a rustling sound piqued his curiosity, and he once more lifted his eyelids to investigate.

This time his eyes beheld, in the center of the room, an enchanting, most beautiful fairy maiden’s apparition. Furthermore, smiling most alluringly at Fradel, she beckoned to him.  As he sat upright to acknowledge her, she suddenly turned into Cobarkek who, gritting his teeth, glowered at Fradel.

The scholar was seized with an inexplicable terror, recalling the bandit chief's last words to him, “I will deal with you later.”

He was about to call out to Svein when Cobarkek's head detached itself from his body, floated upwards and began to spin.  When it stopped, just in front of Fradel, the mouth opened wide and a reptilian, double-pointed tongue lashed out and coiled itself tightly around Fradel's neck, choking him.  Fradel struggled in vain to free himself, gasping for breath.

Again, Svein stirred, and Cobarkek's head simply vanished.

 Fradel found the culprit to be nothing more than the loosened strips of his head bandage that had fallen down around his neck.  Just as he was about to laugh at his own folly, Cobarkek's ghost reappeared.  Once more the scholar recoiled in terror as he watched the phantom metamorphosis into a frightful demon with grizzled red hair, blue face, glittering eyes, a saw-toothed razor-sharp grin and a blood red flickering tongue.  With green slime oozing from its four nostrils and its six arms flailing it advanced towards Fradel.  Paralyzed from the neck down, Fradel opened his mouth to cry for help, but no sound was issued forth.

As the scholar was struggling to scream, Svein suddenly sprang to his feet and hacked the demon into two halves with one blow.  Both halves toppled to the floor, motionless, giving off a dense bluish vapor that settled into a putrid mass which oozed under the floorboards.

Svein turned to smile reassuringly at Fradel, "It's all over now, go back to sleep."  Then, quite unruffled, he lay down once more, facing the wall, to fall asleep.

Fradel leaned over to ask, in amazement, "Aren't you afraid?"

"I used to be", Svein confessed.  "When I was younger, but now I know there is nothing to be afraid of."  He shrugged his shoulders under his blanket.

 "This is to be expected.  All abandoned places have their share of ghosts and demons, but they can only harm us if we let them."

Fradel nodded and also reclined in order to sleep once more.  He was very comforted by Svein's presence and, gradually, his heartbeat returned to normal.  Drawing closer, he whispered his thanks to Svein but the other just let out a disquieting laugh and, when Svein turned around to face Fradel, he wore Cobarkek's face.

With a start Fradel awoke and sat up, a crazy gleam playing in his eyes.  When he steadied his heart once more, he realized that all of it had been a dream.  But was it really?  He had an eerie feeling about it all.

At the far corner a huge rat was gnawing at an empty flour bag as it flashed its red eyes at him.  Standing up, Fradel strolled to the window and peered outside.  It was just before dawn and he saw Svein harnessing the horses, anxious to be on the road again.

Before they left, on Fradel's insistence, they dug a new grave and fished the corpse out of the well.  Despite the decayed condition of the body, Fradel at once recognized the old lady in his dream.  Giving her a proper burial next to the other two mounds, they allowed the poor woman to find lasting peace in the afterlife with her husband and daughter.

Svein then mounted his horse and urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to follow suit.

 Looking back on the three small mounds, another painful memory intruded into Fradel's thoughts.  In a deep silence he hung his head; his face was long and drawn as he reflected over this past, tragic episode.  Absentmindedly he pivoted his mount around and let it follow Fiery Comet onto the open road. 

(END OF SECTION 6)