Part I - Zarek ben Nadin Chronicles - Prologue

   785-753s BC, Issus on the coasts of the Mediterranean Sea.

 Two youths bounded up the dry hillside as nimble as young lions.  Dodging thorny briars and weaving through slick rocky outcroppings the two boys arrived at the top of the bluff, slightly out of breath.  They dropped to the ground and scooted on their stomachs across the chalky dirt to peer over the rock’s ledge.

     The complexions of both boys were fair, their skin being a light olive tone.  The resemblance ended there.  One was slight in build, with dark blue eyes, and hair as smooth and dark as a crow’s wing while the other was lean, with ash blonde hair that offset hazel green eyes.

     As both boys peered over the ledge, their eyes fixed on the Mediterranean Sea that stretched out below them in its vast blue expanse, all the way to the distant horizon.  The sound of gulls and the waves breaking at the base of the cliff was punctuated by the calls of men below.  Great fishing boats, the length of which would have equaled a dozen tall men, glided through the ocean with the aid of strong sails and oar men.

      Zarek lifted his body from the ground.  Ash blonde hair whipped back in the wind and his hazel green eyes watered.  He took in the rhythm of the fishing ships returning to the land, despite the sun’s blinding glare.  Everything else faded, he could almost feel the cool mist of the ocean and feel ribbons of water streaming through his hands.  Closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, salt air filled his lungs.

     He had been on the beach only once, and he still remembered the grains of sand scratching his feet as he ran along the shoreline.  Eventually, the bubbly froth of ocean waves would crash onto the beach and pull at his ankles sucking the sand from beneath his feet.  The mysteries of the ocean fascinated him.  He was suddenly torn from his thoughts by a sharp tug on his arm.

     “Zarek, Zarek!  Get down before they see you!”

     “Natan, there is no danger of that,” Zarek retorted with some exasperation.

     The worry didn’t leave Natan’s eyes.  “We shouldn’t be here.  I don’t know how you talked me into climbing Apsu’s Dais.  If anyone found out…”

     The scream of a gull cut Natan off.  Zarek scooted back down from the ridge and turned to look at his friend.  His countenance which had been annoyed turned grave.  “No one will find out.  They,” Zarek gestured widely with his arm to include the village behind them and the fishermen below, “Are all afraid to even look at Apsu’s Dias.”

    Natan shivered.  “Let alone climb it as we have done.  Oh Zarek, Apsu is the god of the ocean’s underworld.  His anger would be terrible if we offended him in some way.  He would demand a sacrifice to atone for our sins.”

    Zarek glared at Natan.  “We can’t live one day without offending the gods!  I am tired of living in fear.”  Zarek’s voice turned mocking, “We must never look directly at the moon or we offend Nannar.  There must be a great ceremony before even one ox can be slain and eaten or we offend Sumuqan.  And if we do not give thanks to Nisroch and Tammuz and offer incense before we cut down a tree or pull a plant, our crops will be destroyed.”

    Zarek stood and strode down the rocky slope.  He could hear Natan jump to his feet and scramble after him.  “All are forbidden by the priests to even look at Apsu’s Dais, let alone climb it as we have done.  If Apsu is offended he will send the sea to swallow us up.”  Natan panted and Zarek couldn’t tell if he was panting for fear or because he was out of breath.

    “The priests try to keep us under their control by trying to scare us with the gods they invent,” Zarek scoffed. 

     Natan gasped and looked around fearfully as if expecting some great calamity to befall his friend.  “Zarek, it is true that a sacrifice has not been offered on Apsu’s Dais in over fifty years and it is quite probable that some of the priests do try to make us fearful so that we will continue to pay tribute to them, but do not speak ill of the gods, I beg you!  I have no desire to see you punished.”

    The rebellion in Zarek’s eyes faded at the honest concern in his friend’s eyes.  He slung his arm around Natan’s neck.  “You are a true friend Natan.  Of course I do not wish to offend the greater gods… but the lesser gods?  They couldn’t harm us other than their usual mischief.”

     Natan relaxed, and allowed the conversation to drift to other things.  His voice became wistful.  “Still it was wonderful to see the ocean from such a magnificent vantage point.  The sea and sky almost seem to become one up there.  The ships!  They are so strong and powerful.”

     Zarek nodded eagerly, “I desire strongly that father would allow me to accompany him.  But I must be of ten years old to go near the ocean.  Demons of the sea think children’s souls would be easy to steal so that is why we are not allowed on the sands of the beach.  But in two years, we will be allowed to fish the shallow coves with the older boys.”

    He didn’t tell Natan that his mother had taken him once, to see the great waters.  She had made him promise not to tell anyone.  His mother had told him that the great waters could be dangerous… but it could also be their friend.  Standing in the swirling water and watching the waves crest upon the rocks, Zarek believed it to be true.  He had held her hand and together they had walked along the shore, enjoying the quiet and tranquility of the sea.

     In truth, Zarek was much like his mother in many respects.  He didn’t fear the lesser gods, believing them only capable of mischief at best.  He believed that many calamities were just forces of nature and that the priests used these lesser gods to explain these calamities.

     Zarek broke from these thoughts as they arrived in the village.  He waved to Natan as they parted ways, before turning in the direction of the hut belonging to his parents.  His mother was cooking a bubbling stew over an open fire and smiled when she saw him.  “Are you hungry?”

    Zarek nodded and sniffed at the stew his mother stirred.  He noted that it wasn’t as thick as usual.  Lately, the fish stew his mother prepared was thin, with only small pieces of fish meat to be found among strings of seaweed.  He wrinkled his nose but his stomach growled reminding him that he had not eaten that morning, so excited he had been to climb the bluff and watch the fishing boats below.

    Sahdina retrieved a wooden bowl and ladled enough stew to cover the bottom.  She never filled the bowl all the way, believing that by covering the bottom, the stew would cool faster.   She handed the bowl of stew to her son.

    Zarek took the wooden bowl in his hands and carefully swirled the contents of the bowl around in a circle before sipping it.  “Is father home?”

    Sahdina bent to add more wood to the fire, “No.  He will be here soon though.  I do hope that they have had a good catch.  We are running low on our supply of fish.  Hunting has been very poor as of late.  It may just be the season, or perhaps some sickness in the waters.”

    Zarek looked up as the animal skin was pushed back from the entrance of their hut and his father ducked inside.  Arrod was taller than most men, a known warrior and hunter along the costs.  His father’s face was hard and his mouth was twisted into a frown as he sat beside Zarek and silently accepted a bowl of fish stew that his wife handed him.  Zarek guessed that his father did not have good news; he didn’t have to wait long for his suspicions were confirmed.

     “The fishing went poorly today.  It wouldn’t even feed a fourth of our village one meal.”  Arrod glared at the stew in his bowl as if expecting to find the answers to his problems in there.  His voice was low and angry.  “The gods are offended.”

     Zarek looked at his mother. 

     “The gods are not offended Arrod.  The waters may have sickness in them, perhaps that is why the fish die and there is little.”

     “And who would have put sickness in the waters?!” Arrod snapped angrily.  “The gods are offended.  You would do well not to argue with me Sahdina.  I will speak with the priests.  As a counsel leader of this village, it is my duty.”  He finished his stew with one large swallow and stood, “They will know what to do to appease the gods.”

     Zarek watched his father duck outside before he turned to look at his mother, “Mama?”  Though only eight, Zarek knew that if this continued, there would be sickness and starvation.  This was especially grave because they hadn’t had a good catch of fish in over a month.  They had been reduced to two small meals a day rather than the four they had become accustomed to.

    “Hush, everything will be alright my son.  The fish will come again, they always do.”  Sahdina stirred the stew again before she crouched beside her son and pulled him into a tight embrace.  “You need never fear my son; no evil will come to you as long as I live.”  Zarek rested his head against his mother.  He could hear her strong, calm heartbeat and he felt safe.

    He must have fallen asleep because when he awoke it was dark.  The fire was still burning in their hearth.  By the dim light he could see his mother mending one of his father’s tunic.  Everything was quiet, and peaceful.  He turned his head and was about to doze off to sleep again when he heard voices outside.  Rising on one elbow, he caught the gleam of torches through the wooden framework of their hut.

    The seal skin was suddenly thrown aside and his father was standing in the doorway, looking unusually grave.  “In here.”

    “Father?” Zarek’s voice shook.  His attention turned to two men who entered their hut, small animal skulls dangling from the necklaces about their necks.  They wore black masks and their bodies were painted red and yellow.  Flicks of light from the torches outside cast eerie shadows across their faces.  Zarek let out a shriek of fear.

     The two priests looked around and when Sahdina moved to stand they rushed forward and seized her, dragging her out.  Zarek was thoroughly frightened, and for a moment he couldn’t move.  Then he heard his mother’s screams.

    “Arrod!  Arrod!”  Her voice was high with terror.

    “Quiet.”  His father sounded angry. 

     Zarek crawled from the hut and saw his mother kneeling on the ground.  Her screams had ceased, only her soft whimpers could be heard.  It was then that Zarek noticed that other people were leaving their huts and gathering behind the priests.

     Arrod was standing over her.  His face accusing.  “When you became my wife, you obeyed the gods.  You have since turned from our ways.  You are no longer faithful; the priests have cast lots and have prayed, offering incense in their temples.”

     “I have noticed your lack of sincerity and respect when we worship at the shrine, that you have abstained from attending our feasts and celebrations that honor our gods, and that you no longer wear your sacred amulet.  Apsu, the god of the ocean and underworld has been offended.  He has cast sickness in the waters to punish us for allowing you to live among us.  He has demanded a sacrifice.”

     Sahdina began a long keeling wail.  Zarek stared in horror, what was happening?  Why did the priests have his mother?  His father reached down and grabbed his wife by the wrist, she instantly became still.  “You are no longer my wife, nor the mother of my son.  He will be brought up a warrior, he will respect and submit himself to the will of the gods.  He will not bear your curse.”

     “Husband, I have served you faithfully, I have given you a son.”  Tears glittered down her face even as her eyes widened in fear of his betrayal.  “Do not let this thing happen,” her voice whispered.

    “You have offended the gods Sahdina, you are the sacrifice.  The gods demand it if we are to live.  It is you for the lives in this village… for the life of Zarek.”  Arrod released her and stepped back.  His voice trembled only slightly, perhaps from anger.  “Take her away.  The sacrifice will take place tomorrow before daylight.”

    Zarek was shaking uncontrollably, and his tunic was wet with tears.  The priests began to drag his mother away.  He forced himself to his feet; he could not allow them to take her.  Surely, surely they wouldn’t kill his mother.  He leaped from the shadows and took only two steps before a hand clamped around his wrist.

    Zarek cried out and spun around to face his father.  “Please!  Please, don’t allow them to take her!”

    Zarek’s head snapped back, the blow from his father’s hand stung his face, causing him to freeze in surprise.  His father’s voice was cold and hard, it squeezed Zarek’s heart in terror. “It is time that you learn the law of Assyria.  We never show mercy, not even to our own.  Now, we will prepare for the ceremony.”

     Zarek was too stunned to even cry; and he had not the strength to scream after his mother.  He stumbled along the path to the temple as his father dragged him into a procession behind the priest.

     He submitted to the rituals of the priests in a daze.  His body was smeared with oil from the great fish and the priests painted symbols across his forehead and chest.  A heavy, gold amulet of a large eye was hung about his neck to protect him from the evil one and the sins of his mother.

    Chants drummed in his ears and incense filled his senses, making his head hurt.  He was walking.  Looking up, he realized it was almost dawn.  The stars were fading from the sky.  Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he turned.  His father’s own features had been transformed, hard and calloused.

      Zarek stumbled and tried to focus on not tripping over the loose rocks.  His eyes felt dry and they stung from the incense, his body moved numbly to obey his father as he began to climb.  If this was a nightmare, it was a never ending one.  He stumbled on the uneven ground and realized that they were climbing Apsu’s Dais.

    His heart thudded inside his chest, and he glanced around fearfully.  The hillside had been transformed.  Odd shadows were cast by the flickering torches the priests held.  Eerie sounds of chants and wails chilled him to the bone even as his eyes searched desperately for his mother.  They came to the top where the priests formed a circle; each held a torch so that the center was illuminated.  The chants rose to a crescendo and then instantly came to a stop.

    Zarek hardly felt the grip on his shoulder tighten.  His senses spun and he felt faint, like he was trapped in the fog that came up from the sea in the early morning.  Then he saw her, and his head cleared.  She was being led to the center of the circle where a wooden pillar had been anchored into the ground.  Her skin had been painted white and a black necklace of stones hung about her neck.  She was tied to the pillar and then one of the head priest, Rarrok, a man of enormous size and wearing a shiny cloak of fish scales began to chant and sway.

    Fear turned Zarek to stone, he was unable to say anything, do anything but watch the terrible dance that the priest preformed.  The priest circled the pillar dancing and chanting and the other priests echoed his chant until in one last final, frenzied dance, the priest lifted his hand.

    It was then Zarek saw the gleam of a silver blade.  Zarek’s mouth opened and closed, but no sounds came forth.  And then the knife was arching downward, burying itself in his mother’s heart.

     Sahdina gasped, then her head rolled downward and hung limply against her chest.  Blood blossomed across her dress.  The head priest snatched a torch from one of the priests and threw it on the brush.  In an instant the flames leaped to the sky, consuming the pillar and engulfing the figure tied to it.

     A small, wounded and terrified sound echoed in the darkness, too small and slight to be heard over the chants of the priest.  It took Zarek several minutes to realize that the small sobbing cries were his.  Tears streamed from his eyes, streaking the paint on his face.  He was aware of his father’s disapproving stare, and frown. 

     How was his life supposed to have any meaning at all?  He had lost so much that night, his mother, his father… and himself.  From that moment on, Zarek was without a mother.  His father was not likely to marry again.  His face somber, with eyes much older than his eight years, stared at the dying fire.  Zarek would never set foot on Apsu’s Dais again.