(Part I) - Zarek ben Nadin Chronicles - Chapter #2

     Zarek rose up on one elbow.  It was still dark outside but he knew the sun would be rising soon, the coals of their hearth’s fire had long since died.  In the darkness, he found his sandals and put them on.  The leather was crisp from sweat, warped from water, and frayed from use.  Sometimes they chafed at his skin, but it was all he had to protect the soles of his feet that had not yet become accustomed to the sharp rocks surrounding the seaside.

    Squinting in the darkness, he was able to see a sleeping man’s form, snoring loudly against the wall.  Zarek curled his lips in disgust and turned away, it was better if he left now.  He couldn’t risk being there when his father woke.  Headaches and an upset stomach would hardly alleviate Arrod’s foul mood from the night before.

     Instead, he grabbed his seal cape and fastened it about his shoulders, leaving the hut at a fast trot.  Zarek hoped that his father would oversleep again and miss the early morning boat.  He would then be able to spend the day fishing and not having please his father.  Though it was difficult to endure his father’s abuse, his shame only heightened when others were present to witness Arrod’s drunkenness.

    Zarek’s fists clenched and his teeth grounded together.  He hates the disapproving looks that held a mixture of sympathy and pity, why couldn’t people mind their own business?  He knew that they gossiped about him and his father.  He had heard the women as they washed clothes in a shallow pool near the village.  They hadn’t known he was there, and they spoke freely of Arrod’s drunkenness and his uselessness, now that his wife was gone.  They even whispered that Arrod had only married Sahdina to be accepted by the other villagers, and had brought the accusations to the priests only to rid himself of her.

    Then, they spoke of Zarek.  Being sure to mention his thinness, the most recent assortment of bruises and scrapes, and the new frightened and wounded look in his eyes.  If Sahdina was alive, the boy would have been much better taken care of.  His innocence wouldn’t have been so violently stripped away.  One woman had even declared that when she looked into his eyes, he appeared many years older than his actual age.

    Zarek had expected for the gossip to return to other things after so many years.  However, it seemed as if he and his father had become a favorite topic, something to be discussed and mulled over, as they declared what should be done and gave their opinions and advice.  As he result, he had taken to avoiding the other villagers whenever possible.   

    The sun’s morning light was just beginning to scatter across the ocean when Zarek arrived, pulling him from his darkening thoughts.  White mist from the waters rolled in and made it difficult to see any distance.  It seemed as if the sea ended abruptly, cut off from the swirling wall of mist that rose to the shore, rather than stretching to blend itself with the distant sky.  Zarek wasn’t concerned, he knew that the heat of the day would come quickly enough and the mist would evaporate, leaving the ocean clear and blue again.

     He sat on the rocks and tried not to mind the cold as he waited for the arrival of the other fishermen.  Some moments later, Zarek heard a soft whistle behind him and turned to see Natan striding toward him with a broad grin on his face.  Beside him walked his father, Dayan.  Zarek lifted a hand in welcome.

     “Greeting, son of Arrod.  How is your father?”

     Normally, such a question would receive a sharp reply, but Zarek liked Dayan.  And so he answered the question without his usual malice.  “He sleeps still.”  He offered nothing else and Dayan nodded before walking on.  Natan lingered, his eyes settled on Zarek’s split lip but he didn’t say anything.  He never did.  Instead, he offered a small wrapped package.

    Zarek accepted it and ate the pieces of boiled fish inside.  It had become a ritual for them.  If Natan arrived with the early morning fishermen he brought some food, knowing that Zarek never bothered to eat breakfast.  The reason for this was known only to Zarek, they rarely had food leftover from the night before, and he didn’t want to risk waking his father with his stirring about.  Even when his father had drunk a bottle of wine the night before, he was a light sleeper.

     The fishermen came by ones and twos, each appearing from the mist.  Zarek climbed down from the rock and bent his back to shove one of the lighter fishing crafts into the sea.  The ocean water was cold and swirled around his ankles and up to his waist.  Nearly all the fishing boats had been launched.  Only two remained.

      Zarek leaned his shoulder against one of the larger boats and pushed with the others, straining against the weight of the vessel.  They pushed several paces but it hadn’t caught the waves yet.  Zarek was getting set to shove again when a call went up.  He quickly lifted his head and frowned when he saw his father striding toward them.

     Arrod greeted the men with shouts and the others returned his greeting, if they held malic toward him, they didn’t show it. He moved to aide them pushing the boat into the water, and on the second try the boat caught the tide and was pulled into the ocean.  The men quickly jumped in.  Zarek looked around; several men from their village were there, including Dayan and Natan.

    He walked carefully to the back of the boat sat down, rowing in silence.  The voices of the other men were lifted so as not to be drowned out by the splashing of the oars.  Dayan set their course a quarter of a mile further where they would meet with an even larger fishing vessel and board it to begin the day’s work.

     It was half an hour later before they pulled alongside the larger fishing vessel.  Zarek pulled his oar in and laid it aside as they drew near.  One of the men threw a rope down to them and the men in the smaller boat began climbing up.  Zarek watched his father miss his footing once and almost slam into the side of the boat.  Such humiliation would serve him well and would not go unnoticed by the others.  Zarek half wished him to plummet into the sea.  Arrod, however, made it the deck without further trouble.

    At last he took his turn and climbed the rope steadily.  He was by far, faster than the others.  He had no ample stomach to hinder his movement and his muscles had become hard working on the big fishing boat.  His feet hit the deck and he turned to watch Natan, who was last.  His friend clumsily grappled with rope as if it was the unruly tail of an irate cow slapping him in the face, refusing to be milked.   At, last beginning his ascent.

    Zarek held it steady and finally reached down to grasp Natan’s forearm, pulling his less agile friend onto the deck.  Natan steadied himself and grinned at Zarek in appreciation.  The sun had risen sufficiently so that now they could make out each other’s faces without having to squint.  A hint of the day’s heat began.  They sailed further from the shoreline, and the mist quickly dried up.

     The rough corded fishing nets were brought up on deck.  Zarek took hold of a corner.  He was suddenly aware that his father was watching him.  He refused to flinch or give any other indication that he noticed the man.  Arrod squinted at him.  “Did you get into a fight?”

    Zarek stared at him in surprise and then remembered that his lip was still cracked, with dried blood crusted over the split.  Arrod didn’t wait for him to answer but strode over to him.  “Did you win?”  When Zarek didn’t answer right away, Arrod interrupted his silence as failure.  His mouth twisted in rage, and before Zarek could react, his hand cuffed him sharply on the ear.  The giant ring on his father’s finger scratched deeply into his cheek and blood rose to the surface instantly, dripping down to his chin.  “No son of mine is going to be a coward.  You ran didn’t you?  You are weak.  Weak and cowardly!”  He raised his hand again.

    This time the force of the blow sent Zarek to the deck.  His father stood over him.  “I will not tolerate failure at any level.”  Zarek felt the old familiar feelings of shame and humiliation war in his chest, the other men stood by, silently watching.  

     “You there!”

    It was the ship’s captain, Ciara.  Zarek lurched to his feet and used his sleeve to wipe the blood trickling down his cheek, the last thing he wanted the ship captain to notice, was him.  Ciara strode over to them, anger written in his sharp features.  “Any dispute must be settled on land.  This is my ship, you come aboard to work not squabble.”  Ciara fastened Arrod with a glare.  “There are no exceptions.”

    Arrod sneered and turned away.  Ciara’s dark eyes settled on Zarek for a moment before he returned to the wheel.  Zarek watched him go before he glanced around.  He felt his cheeks burning in shame even though the other men kept their eyes averted and returned to work.

      Zarek tugged at a fishing net and Natan came to help him.  Zarek turned around with a snarl, “I’m not weak Natan, I can do it myself!”  Anger bubbled from his chest; helpless rage that had to lash out at someone.

     Natan took a step back.  “I know you can,” he soothed.  “It just goes faster with two on the net instead of one.”

     Zarek said nothing, but heaved the fishing net over the side of the boat with Natan’s help.  Several moments later, they were hauling it aboard again and shaking the fish onto the decks.  Giant Herring beat the deck with strong tails as the men walked among them, clubbing them.

     Zarek shed his seal cape as the day became hotter.  By mid-morning, his body glistened with sweat and he smelled of fish.  The day passed in much the same manner until Zarek’s back was stiff from bending over the nets and gutting fish.  As it became late afternoon, clouds began to roll in and a faint wind tugged at their tattered canvas sails. At first, it was so faint that no one paid attention to it.  The fishing was surprisingly good this morning, much better than the days before.  They could make up for their loss by getting as many fish today as they could.

     It wasn’t long however, that the wind became vicious.  The men quickly pulled the nets in and prepared to return to shore, the fishing interrupted by the coming storm.  Lightning began to flash in sheets across the sky and rain pelted them like small stones.  The ship began to roll under them, tossed by the violence of the waves.

     As the storm grew more violent, it became apparent that the wind was against them and they were pushed further away from the coasts.  Ciara ordered the two men climbing the rapport, to tie the sail before the winds tore them.  With the sails tied, the ship became little more than an object tossed in the sea.  Dark clouds boiled across the sky, blotting out the sun.

     Zarek clung to the side of the ship and listened as the men began to beseech Hadad, god of storms, to still the waters and calm the storm.  Water washed over the boat in giant waves.  Looking through the streams of water that washed over him, Zarek caught sight of Natan clinging fearfully to rails.  His friend’s face was white and his eyes were wide with terror.

     The wind suddenly changed directions sending the ship crashing against a wall of giant waves.  Ciara clung to the wheel.  “Climb the mast and free the sails!”

     Zarek continued to cling to the rails, no one moved to do the captain’s bidding.  The footing was so unstable that unless they clung to some support, they risked being swept into the sea.  Ciara wrenched the wheel around and shouted at the cowering men in desperation, “Free the sails or we are lost!”

     Still no one moved.  It was hard to even hear over the roar of the storm.  Zarek’s knuckles turned white.  Soon, they would be too far from the coast and their ship would sink under the massive waves.

     He shook his head to clear the rain from his eyes and then released the railing.  The boat rolled under him and he fell against the desk and slammed against the side of the ship.  Pain made his elbow throb from where he had banged it against the side of the ship, but he crawled forward.  Using various holds to secure his ascent, he began climbing the mast.

     The ropes were wet and slick, several times Zarek lost his footing and nearly plummeted to the deck.  Only his presence of mind and his tight grip on the ropes kept him from falling overboard.  At last he reached the sails.  He had never been up on the mast before.  Only the grown men had climbed the ropes, the height itself would have unsettled him if he had had time to think about it.

     The canvas was wet and heavy.  He climbed the length of the frame and began untying the ropes.  It slapped against his legs and the wind was so strong he feared that he would be cast into the sea at any moment.  The sails suddenly billowed out as they caught the wind.  Zarek continued to cling to the mast, not trusting his shaking limbs to aid in a descant.

    At last, they entered the shallow fishing cove and the winds died down.  It was nearly a whole hour later, but the storm had ceased, leaving behind dark, scattered clouds.  Zarek’s muscles trembled with fatigue and he was unsure they would support him.

     As soon as his limbs would cooperate he began to climb back down the ropes.  He was half way down when the men below erupted in cheers.  Zarek stared in surprise before he finished his decent and was immediately caught up by two of the men and lifted upon their shoulders.  The men continued to cheer and praise him, and when at last they deposited him on the deck, Zarek was embraced by Ciara.

     “You have saved my ship and our lives.  I am in your debt.”  Ciara stepped back and clasped Zarek’s shoulder.  “If ever you have need of me, I will be your servant.”

     Zarek was stunned.  Here he was, only sixteen years old and not a man, being honored by the most powerful captain of the largest vessel on their coasts.  He looked around and saw the admiration in all the men’s eyes as they stood in respect and wonder at his bravery.

     Natan smiled broadly and nodded his head in approval.  Only Arrod stood apart from the other, and looked on with dark eyes.  Zarek eyes met his father’s.  What did he see there?  Greed, his father was hungry for the power he could attain.  Zarek’s stomach churned and he gritted his teeth as an uncomfortable feeling gripped him. The glittering black eyes became as hard and dark as granite.

     An hour later, the ocean calmed and the clouds parted from sky.  The men climbed down into the smaller boat which came to take them back to land.  The man at the tiller stood and called to those onboard the big ship, “We saw the storm!  Yomadan from the lookout point saw two of the smaller fishing vessels go down.  The others made it to the cove in time but we thought yours was lost!”

     Ciara shouted down at him, “All would have been lost had it not been for Zarek ben Nadin.  He freed the sails so that we could turn the ship back to shore!”  The men clapped Zarek on the back, he accepted the praise with his usual solemnness.  There wasn’t joy on his features, or pride.  He had simply fought for survival, nothing really admirable in that and perhaps even less dignified.  He was about to climb down the rope to the small boat below when his eyes once again met his father’s.  A chill took him.  Why did he have such an uneasy feeling about this?