LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 5

01-NEVETS ARRIVING AT  THE REMOTE CHECKPOINT

At sundown Nevetsecnuac without incidence crossed the remote border checkpoint and entered the Capital province of Holger. The nearby town still to be reached, at a secluded spot at the edge of a dense forest, he dismounted his horse and then donned his scholar's robes, afterwards he traveled at some speed at the main highway. That evening and few evenings after that he’d stayed at modest, respectable inns and hostels, chiefly to rest his mare, buy some supplies and to gather (pertinent) reconnaissance information from the seemingly friendly locals.

At first, unlike the other provinces, he’d found Holger to be prospering, with citizens contented and not lacking in comfort or being out of sorts; beneath the seemingly pervading peaceful order and opulent facade, however, he could sense that something sinister and evil lurked that bolted shut every dissident's mouth. And when he discretely and relentlessly delved deeper into internal matters and the existing facts, Nevetsecnuac uncovered, true enough, ugly manipulation, wide-spread corruption among the officials, appalling misery, and vast enslavement of the seemingly normal populous. 

02- MARKETPLACE AT SUBURB TOWN IN HOLGER PROV.2

Nevetsecnuac’s soul became further beset (burdened, tormented) with wearying (draining) despair, understanding the fact that even at this furthest periphery, the stranglehold of (Usurper Zakhertan Yozdek’s) stringent rules of law and the draconian penalties, all enforced under the (guise) masked miasma of propriety (aptness, decency), solidly dictated every facet of each citizen’s life. Enslaved by the eternal, numbing fear coursing through their veins, the unfortunate masses, even those rare would-be dissidents, consequently had their mouths permanently bolted shut, despite the fact that their subsistence were far worse than any imagined torture in Hell; moreover, Nevetsecnuac understood that he had to harden his heart for ahead, lay, a  portended, graver conditions, far worse villainy, and abominations.

                                                                                      ~

 Meanwhile, in response to his inquiry as to which course to take to reach the Capital City, the river route was pointed out to him, time and again, as being the most preferred and pleasurable of alternatives.

Though admittedly a bit slower, for the Yawjun River meandered widely and was subject to occasional storms, the magnificent scenery along its course fostered (cultivated, nourished) every scholar's, poet's and artist's soul and the comfortable lodgings provided by the charter boats more than compensated for this slight inconvenience.

 Nevetsecnuac, for the sake of expediency, opted instead for the faster land route and, late that afternoon, at the outskirts of town, at a secluded spot behind the hill, further down the road, he allowed the mare to graze briefly on the tall, lush grass, as he once more changed back into his regular traveling clothes then secured the scholar's garb in the luggage bundle behind his saddle.

03- NEVETSECNUAC

After two days journey, once more ignoring the last well-meaning innkeeper’s counsel, (a short, plump, middle aged man called Huisun, who had taken a liking to Nevetsecnuac and had genuinely tried his best to deter him from taking the hazardous course as this was the worst season for such a daring undertaking), Nevetsecnuac, digressed from the main highway, to continue (via) by way of short-cut route.

The direction he was headed traversed the most dangerous Yokono Mountains, a range of peaks of various heights, some of which towered to touch the Heavens, that stretched away far to the south-east. Eventually the trail would meet up with the more frequented, safer, and civilized roundabout route by the river.  By rights, Huisun's apprehension was well (founded) warranted for, even in a good season, the path was marred (marked) by the skeletal remains of those, however competent, which had chosen not to pay heed to the warnings and were never seen or heard from again.

Naturally the locals who lived in the shadows of the Yokono range firmly believed in the superstition of the evil, wayward mountain spirits that dwelt in the abundant caves and deep caverns.

These nefarious spirits supposedly perpetually preyed on the unsuspecting souls of travelers, driving them to madness then suicide, if they per chance, miraculously survived (avoided succumbing to) nature’s numerous lethal traps and the predatory beasts that in profusion, inhabited the mountain slopes.

 Accordingly, the Mountain God of the Yokono, Choron, received many offerings from those who lived at the edge of the foothills and was often called upon to preserve the inhabitants from various malefactions which they perceived may, at any time, descend upon them from the mountains to inflict injury and spread terror.

04- MONSTERS AND MALEVOLENT SPIRITS

  ~

 

The first leg (part) of this journey was uneventful (without incidence), even tedious for Nevetsecnuac, then, with a drastic change in the weather, gale winds swept across the foothills as incessant, torrential rains lasting for weeks on end, drummed on his head; the deluge washing the slopes clean and creating mud traps and fatal rockslides.

Despite these (occurring) scores of obstacles in his path, Nevetsecnuac relentlessly pushed on, endeavoring to cover as much ground as possible on any given day. Subsequently he reached the segment where the towering range on both sides hastened the dusk. Here the overhead broad-leafed trees shielded Nevetsecnuac from most of the downpours, but this was a mixed blessing for they also enveloped him in an oppressive darkness in which the air increasingly grew stagnant.

In this eerie, foreboding atmosphere, due to copious annual precipitation, the soft rocks of the mountainside had been carved into grotesque shapes, while lush green vegetation habitually choked the already precarious paths.

Underneath, an abundance of creepy, crawly insects, legless, slippery reptiles with fangs and venomous amphibians (frogs) posed yet another sort of danger. Meanwhile, the multitude of dark caves, crevices slimy with moss, and the huge, forbidding caverns that held wild, predatory inhabitants frequently tested Nevetsecnuac's prowess when he had to contest with them for the night's shelter (accommodations), though by preference, he avoided inflicting on them any serious harm.

 Incredibly, after the next stretch, the topography, and the atmosphere both underwent a drastic change; there were now plenitude of gushing streams, abundant picturesque, roaring waterfalls crowned in mist, tingling, gurgling brooks in their plenitude intermingling with the drumming rain and obsessive wind.

Periodic streaks of sunlight brushed, the dancing, fleshy, provocative leaves, swaying, tempting branches in a lugubrious symphony enrapturing one in a magical air, delighting the senses to their fullest and giving one, in fact, a false sense of security and serenity.

The ever-present dangers from the majestic, possessive Yokono mountain peaks towering overhead, meanwhile, perpetually glowering, threatened to at any given moment to inflict havoc on the unsuspecting, lulled trespasser who dared to violate this sanctimonious ground.

With so many treacherous traps just waiting to claim him in a wink, could Nevetsecnuac be expected to escape them all, unscathed?  Hence, in one moment's inattention because of a spooked horse, Nevetsecnuac (while leading the horse), nearly did in fact succumb to the ravenous appetite of a precipitous drop.

 One catastrophe begetting another, that same instant the horse's hind left leg got trapped in a collapsed crevice, Nevetsecnuac losing his footing, had slipped on the moss covering the just then loosened rock and unavoidably went right over the edge. He managed to slow the speed of his descent and arrested (halted) his further plunge, by grasping at the roots and vines hanging from the top, till he eventually secured his footing on a protruding rock ledge. Tethered precariously (by still holding the roots), he looked down to (see) catch the accompanying mossy rocks and clumps of muddy earth, as well as the ridge, in a blink disappear into the hazy abyss.

Up above the spooked mare trotted and neighed uneasily as she tried to liberate her hind leg from the entrapment in the solid segment of the path, unwittingly however, creating an extra dire situation, by loosening (dislodging) still more earth and rock.

With the skill and agility of a monkey, Nevetsecnuac, in nick of time hauled himself up to safety to dispel the blindfolded mount's fears, before the beast did irrevocable damage to herself. 

A careful examination of the rescued leg revealed the mare's ankle bones to be intact, though the muscle and skin around it was slightly swollen from bruising and superficial lacerations. Nevetsecnuac tended to this best he could.

Later, as Nevetsecnuac and mare, ascended to greater heights, the unusually sweltering temperatures and torrential rains created a permanent miasma that, compounded with the thin air consistent with these high altitudes, further constrained the lungs to the degree of belaboring their advance.  Sorely missing the cold, refreshing temperatures, Nevetsecnuac looked up longingly to the summits in the hope of tracing the expected margin of snow, but his vision was obscured by the crowning mist that descended all the way down to converge with the rising fog and steam from the mantled valleys below.  Nevertheless, tirelessly advancing along the middle ground in this ambiance, if it was not for the stony, thorny path, Nevetsecnuac could have quite easily imagined that he was treading on clouds in mid-air.

                                            ~                                       

 Dealing with the ever-present persistent dangers from the roaming predatory beasts and slithering serpents (or poisonous reptilians underbrush) by day and nocturnal animals, birds (bats) and biting insects at night, eventually on a descending course, Nevetsecnuac trailed the narrow ledge that had been carved into the mountain with one side having the rising peaks decked with ancient, towering trees with huge, wide trunks with heights reaching up to the clouds while on the other side again a steep precipice dropping to a bottomless abyss.  Despite this, leading the blindfolded horse by the reins, he successfully negotiated these countless perilous turns this way and that, to reach the more favorable plateau.

Advancing at this more lenient segment, once on a rare cloudless day, in the absence of rain, mist and fog, Nevetsecnuac, with unobstructed vision, witnessed the unfolding glory of the most magnificent, panoramic, breathtaking view that had all along eluded him.  Looking beyond the frolicking, rainbow-colored birds; Nevetsecnuac elatedly then, had traced the now visible river Yawjun carving a snaking vein through a deep valley thousands of feet down.

The worst part of the journey finally behind them, in this more moderate climate, man and mount trailed in more leisured pace the stony pathway flanked by thick vegetation and strange, broad-leafed trees; thus enjoying, the branches bedecked with budding blossoms swaying gently in the breeze that fanned them. The delicate fragrant air softly caressing his face, Nevetsecnuac, delightfully lent an ear to the melodious thrilling of songbirds as they were busily building nests. Fully appreciating nature's exquisite beauty, which enchanted and enthralled his senses, he paused frequently to assimilate it all as his eyes observed in delight the industrious, buzzing bees happily converging on the pistils of blossoms, the flippant, fluttering, frail butterflies contesting in beauty with the host flowers, and the droning, intrusive insects encircling the air in peaceful coexistence with the furry, fuzzy, frolicking animals in full celebration of life.

In the ensuing days his heart burst in excitement, his head in fanciful clouds, Nevetsecnuac bounced his steps joyfully on the petal strewn pathway that gradually straightened, flattened, and widened as it converged with the more moderate route (trail, segment, road).

The undulated slopes surrounding this dell hemmed in by jagged peaks in parts were densely forested, portending still a multitude of concealed dangers.  However, this did not raise the least concern in Nevetsecnuac. Nearing the end of his dried rations, he scavenged for some delectable mushrooms, wild berries and dug up some edible roots for sustenance. Intoxicated with nature's beauty for the first time since he had embarked on this long, arduous journey, he had only now permitted himself the luxury of such serendipity.

 In that brief respite he had ceased to exist, the all-encompassing, enchanting nature possessed his soul and his weightless body floated on the warm, fragrant breeze.

07- NEVETSECNUAC

The colors, enhanced by the sun's brilliant rays, grew in intensity brighter and brighter still till he was almost blinded.  Indistinct patterns of all shapes and forms danced next, in front of his eyes as swirling lines created by swaying branches and the flight patterns of insects simultaneously drew iridescent, incoherent messages for him in the air.

 Dizziness overcoming him, he reclined spread eagle on the plush, wet, multicolored carpet and, for a moment, closed his eyes in repose.

But no sooner had he done so than he felt the cold, sharp edge of a blade pressed firmly against his bare throat.  Opening his eyes with a start, he saw before him the glaring face of Zonar.

"We've some unfinished business, you and I," he sneered icily, his one knee pressed firmly, squarely on Nevetsecnuac's chest.

"I said we'll be meeting again.  How is it you're still caught unaware?" he asked, mockingly and, throwing his head back, laughed uproariously before answering his own question…"But perhaps not this early, eh?"

 

(END OF SECTION 5) 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 5

 After a day’s riding Nevetsecnuac, wishing for a break chiefly out of concern for his mount steered his horse off the beaten path. Reaching a remote section well hidden behind a small rocky hill, he dismounted. 

NEVETSECNUAC

He removed the saddle and let his horse free to cool off and forage on the scant grass by the stream. He splashed some water over his face to dispel the fatigue then, having something more urgent to do; he went over and sat down bracing his back against the thick truck of an ancient tree. At once he began cutting some strips of leather then carefully bound the hilt and sheath of the sword to conceal its identifying marks.  Task completed, only then did he become aware of the hunger clawing at his stomach and so consumed some dry rations. He closed his eyes for a brief respite, with his mind however, still reeling with concerns for the old man.

                                                                               ~

 

Nevetsecnuac’s ensuing endless trek lasting several months took him over expansive rivers, vast lakes, soaring mountains, rolling hills and deep valleys.  Varied (diverse) temperatures (microclimate, weather) came and went as he traversed several provinces.  Then, still some distance from the Capital at dawn one day, he arrived at the periphery of the Wantherran Province.

Perhaps a lucky happenstance in life or a quirk of fate, a distinguished scholar named Fradel Rurik Korvald had also happened to be an-route to the Capital and had entered Wantherran province at the very same period as Nevetsecnuac.

The illustrious literati Fradel Rurik Korvald, the only son of Zukan Rurik Korvald, came from a long line of scholars in Birgershing District.  Fradel’s brilliance had shown at the early age of eight when his famed poem entitled 'Flight of Dawn’ reached the four corners of the Empire.  After the death of his beloved father, Zukan Rurik Korvald, Fradel had elected to live the life of a recluse in his mountain retreat. His works, his remarkable abilities had nevertheless spread among the elite classes in the Capital, winning him well deserved national acclaim as one of the poetic geniuses of the realm.

 Now, Zakhertan Yozdek, a military ruler, had never been particularly fond of poetry or even prose, nor had he been an ardent admirer or supporter of scholars. Far from it, he secretly despised them and used many cruel and ingenious means to underhandedly suppress them.  Age-old traditions are hard to break, however, and so six months prior a Royal summons had come from the Court ordering Fradel Rurik Korvald’s attendance at a landmark celebration at the Palace, thereby forcing the scholar out of seclusion. 

During the grueling months spent on the route to the Capital City, Fradel Rurik Korvald had traveled on horseback accompanied by his two manservants and a porter to carry his luggage. Fradel and his small entourage had, whenever possible, stayed at modest inns. Opting however for anonymity, they always registered under an assumed identity.

 At the last Inn Fradel had been warned by the kindly innkeeper to be on the lookout for bandits who plagued the area.

02-FRADEL RURIK KORVALD

 After half a day's cautious advance, when they had encountered no danger, their apprehension gradually abated and, seeing a wooded area up ahead, Fradel now considered taking shelter for a brief respite from the midday heat.  Though it was early autumn, his heavy garments which he wore, in the absence of wind and clouds in the sky, had made this day, in particular, unbearably hot for him.

He was about to give an order to stop when he observed a stirring in the thick foliage up ahead.  "Watch out, there may be bandits over there!" Fradel had just finished yelling his warning to the servant up ahead when suddenly the very servant’s anguished scream pierced the air.  Next instant the servant wheeled around revealing an arrow buried (imbedded) deep in his chest and thud, dropped (from his horse) dead to the ground.  At that juncture another arrow whistled past the other servant’s ear to graze Fradel's arm.  Then all at once a large body of mounted men in a cloud of dust surged out of the woods to encircle them.

Terrified, Fradel Rurik Korvald veered his horse around in a desperate attempt to flee from this disastrous predicament as his other manservant, specially chosen for his skill in arms, brandishing his sword bravely stood his ground to obstruct the bandits’ charge towards his master. 

The porter, like the manservant, had at once abandoned the baggage and picked up his staff to join the fray.  Though they were both competent fighters, they proved no match for these seasoned warriors turned outlaw who cut them down effortlessly.

 Next instant, surrounded on all sides Fradel was pulled from his saddle by a hook and thrown face down on the ground.

While he remained pinned where he lay by some of the bandits’ staff and spears threateningly pricking his skin, some others were quickly dispatched by a shout to collect the scattered horses and baggage.

 The scar ridden, robust leader, Cobarkek, wishing to toy with his new prey, slowly alighted from his horse and came over to roughly turn Fradel over with his foot.  His boot now squarely planted on Fradel's chest and the blade firmly pressed against Fradel's neck, he grabbed at Fradel’s collar and shouted for him to produce his money and credentials which he assumed would be on his person. That is, if he wished to live.

 Fradel fought the instinct to gag with the latter’s foul breath on him and instead glared back defiantly.   The murderous intent in the bandit's eyes, his own demise of a foregone conclusion, had struck a stubborn chord in Fradel.  He next cursed the bandit leader and spat in his eye.  A fierce blow across his face with the hilt of the sword cut open Fradel's cheek and bloodied his handsome, fine features.  A second blow to the head rendered (made) Fradel almost unconscious.  As he was about to receive the third, and fatal blow a fierce cry from the distance froze the blood in the bandit chief's veins and stopped his arm in mid-swing.   All heads turned in the direction of this challenge to spot a solitary rider on a magnificent steed galloping towards them at lightning speed.

"Another fool comes to die!” the bandit chief, Cobarkek scoffed. 

The rest of the brigands, each vying to secure the mount for themselves, had surged forward in response to engage the foe without waiting for the leader's order.

"I will deal with you later.” Cobarkek spat at Fradel as he delivered another vicious blow right across Fradel’s head then, vaulting onto his horse, he broke into a headlong gallop to catch up to his men.

 Fradel lay there, his head swimming, eyes blurred, barely conscious and unable to move a limb; all the while writhing in agonizing pain.

"Leave the devil to me!” the Cobarkek shouted after the group, but the rest were already engaged in a fierce struggle with the newcomer.

"Are you tired of living?” one jibed with scorn as he swung his sword at the stranger’s neck but missed.

"No. Nor am I tired of purging (relieving) the earth of vermin like you!"  The stranger dodged the ensuing lightning strike.

The infuriated bandit gaped in surprise as his sword was knocked to the ground with his hand still attached. As the sword fell, the second in command, a huge, stout fellow, shouted, “I’ll teach you to talk so big!”, while he mounted a deadly assault from the opposite side.  Deftly blocking the powerful blow aimed at his head, the stranger at once reversed the attacker's momentum against him and same time inflicted a deep, mortal wound across the bandit’s chest.  As the spooked horse vaulted then galloped (dashed)in lightening speed through the encirclement of the bandits, the expired body of the bandit, meanwhile, had slipped down face down onto the dust.  The incredible agility with which the newcomer had dispatched these two formidable attackers struck fear in the rest of the bandit’s hearts but the superiority of their numbers and arms still gave them the bravado to foolishly keep on fighting.

Cobarkek growing impatient with his men’s inability to subdue this warrior, shouted his command for the rest to (abort fray) stand down and leave this foe for him to deal with alone.

"Meddling fool!” The leader Cobarkek’s face more crimson than a blazing coal, he spat on the ground.  "You'll regret the day you were born by the time I'm through with you!"

"You talk so grand,” the stranger smiled as he continued fighting. "Let's see if your skill is any match of your narcissistic boasts!"

The ensuing contest of arms between these two shook Heaven and Earth as the band of thieves lined the wayside to watch with respect and awe this stranger who could not be bested.  Others, however competent or formidable, had never survived more than one round with Cobarkek, but the stranger far outlasted the five deadly rounds and further, in a blink of an eye, forced Cobarkek on the defensive. 

NEVETSECNUAC TO THE RESCUE

Many of the spectators could not help recalling Cobarkek’s past: how a reckless outburst resulting in the murder of an influential, high official had forced their leader to flee his post as an arms instructor in the Imperial Army.  Later Cobarkek had gathered this band of skilled fighters to start a reign of terror in this far off District.  Under his training the marauding band had become a formidable force, invincible in combat. They had from then on, unobstructed, robbed travelers on this highway, burned and pillaged nearby villages, and extorted money from the wealthy citizens and officials of the neighboring towns. 

The Provincial government had been repeatedly rendered ineffective in suppressing this bane, let alone in bringing them to justice. 

Meanwhile, Cobarkek's savagery defied description.  Believing in magical powers and his own invincibility, he practiced primitive rituals where, at certain times, a selected victim's heart was consumed in a stew.

Besides coveting the stranger’s magnificent steed, Cobarkek now hungered after the power he would attain from devouring the stranger's heart and driven by this goal, fought harder still. But, after another five rounds with no advantage gained, he began to worry and signaled his men to join the fray.

 Confident in their numbers, each, determined to prove his worth, struck fiercely at the stranger from all sides. 

To their dismay however, they found those numbers rapidly dwindling and realized that, even if there were scores more like them, the stranger would not be subdued let alone bested.  In a short time, many forfeited their lives while the remainder soon realized that their leader, Cobarkek, was the one who was being toyed with.  The formidable warrior (no older than 20 years) fought with unequaled skill and strength.

 Finally, taking advantage of atypical break in Cobarkek’s defenses, the stranger dealt their leader the mortal blow: the blade of opponent’s exceptional sword cutting through the armour as if it was a tender shoot, it cleaved (slashed) a deep wound (injury) from shoulder to chest.  The bandit leader Cobarkek’s tendons (ligaments) of the sword-arm thus severely incapacitated, it lost its grip of the sword, meanwhile, Cobarkek loosing consciousness, his body with a thud fell off to the ground. The spooked war steed at that moment bolted and his hoofs clawing the air, next, trampling some underfoot, galloped straight through (scattering) the cordon of mounted men. 

The few daring bandits that had stayed, with dread gripping their souls, now also sought to escape this sure calamity; they therefore, scampered (darted) for their lives in all directions like panicking rats running from a fire.

The stranger did not pursue the fleeing unlawful (felonious) bunch; instead, he turned his steed around and secured the brown mare (stallion) belonging to the scholar Fradel which had not wandered too far off. He then rode over to the scholar, and reining his (mount) horse to a halt, leaped to the ground beside Fradel.

 Having regained consciousness a few minutes prior to Cobarkek's death, Fradel had forced himself to sit up to witness (his savior’s) the stranger’s brilliant feats of arms.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"I am, thanks to your benevolence, sir.” came Fradel's hearty reply.  As he struggled to his feet, he felt the stranger’s strong grip on his arm steadying him.

 Bowing ceremoniously, he expressed deep gratitude for other’s aid and profound admiration for his skill before formally introducing himself as Fradel Rurik Korvald. 

Seeing that his name stirred no reaction in the stranger, he asked, "I am indebted to my benefactor for saving my worthless life by your timely intervention.  May I know of your respected name, sir, so as to henceforth express my boundless gratitude?"

"You exalt me unnecessarily with this talk of gratitude.” The stranger dispersed his obligation with a gesture of his hand.

 "All I did was to extend meager assistance to a fellow traveler in dire straits." 

Nevetsecnuac bowed respectfully and introduced himself as Svein Therran (instead of Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir) then, noting the strain with which the scholar stood upright, offered to lend a hand where Fradel Rurik Korvald could reach the periphery of the woods for a prolonged rest in the shade.

"If you don't think me too presumptuous, may I ask where you hail from, sir?”

Fradel looked up as he sat comfortably under an ancient tree. 

When Svein showed no eagerness to reply, Fradel continued insistently, "Forgive my impudence, but I am very much moved by your gallantry, sir.”

“Another, however able or competent, would not have been so eager to rush into trouble for the sake of a mere stranger.  Alas,” the scholar sighed, "in these desperate and selfish times such acts of merit are confined only to the classical writings of old."

"I'll fetch some ointment to heal those cuts and bruises.” Nevetsecnuac rather impatiently started for his horse.  “Timely applied, it should leave no residue, marks, or scars on your face."  Reaching into a bundle secured to the saddle, he removed a small, blue bottle.  Returning to Fradel's side, he cut some strips and dabbed them with the poultice.

"Please excuse my rudeness,” Nevetsecnuac apologized holding out the strips, "but I am not at liberty to discuss details of my journey, not at this time."  Then in response to Fradel’s affirmative nod, quickly applied the strips to the face wounds.

"I quite understand.” Fradel winced as the medicine touched the open flesh.

 "Please forgive my inquisitiveness."  He then thanked Svein (Nevetsecnuac) for his troubles.

Just then the din of the carrion birds already crowded around the corpses and fighting among themselves as they tore strips off the dead flesh, drew both Fradel's and Nevetsecnuac 's attention.  The sight so distressed the scholar that, forgetting his own pain, he struggled to rise to his feet, to shoo them off.

"You're in no condition, sir.” Nevetsecnuac gently placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from rising.  "Please conserve your strength.  I'll attend their proper burial.  You may wish to say a few words afterwards before their graves."

"You are most kind, sir,” Fradel protested, "but they are my servants, and I would not dream of shunning my responsibility and imposing on you in this way."  Still, it was obvious that Fradel was in no condition to carry out his intention and, letting himself finally be persuaded, he leaned his back against the tree trunk.

 From this vantage point he observed with appreciation how competently Svein undertook his servant's burial, and then also took pains to cover the bodies of the bandits with rocks, earth and branches in order to spare them from being mauled by the disgruntled vultures (carryon-birds, crows) circling overhead. 

When the burial and prayer was over, Svein (Nevetsecnuac) counseled a quick departure to a more secure camp, in case the fleeing bandits returned with reinforcements. 

They gathered up the scholar's scattered luggage into a single bundle, which they slung onto Fradel's horse.  Since Fradel was recovered enough by now to ride, they lost no time in mounting up and quickly rode away.

 

 

(END OF SECTION 5)