(Part I) - Zarek ben Nadin Chronicles - Chapter #5

     Zarek’s memories were inconsistent after that.  At times he thought he was dead; his mother’s loving presence was near, but he could never touch her.  And other times, he was all too aware, that he was still alive.  The droning chants of priests pounded against his ears as water wearing against stone; and the thick scent of incense they burned heightened the pain he felt, which was excruciating at best.  He would toss and turn in a feverish delirium.

    His temperature spiked, the very air around him seemed to be crackling with unseen heat.  Then, just as suddenly, it would plummet and he would feel as if he had fallen into the frigid depths of the sea.  His lungs burned for air as he gasped, fighting for each breath he took.  Sometimes his stomach clenched in irritation, if his body had to feel any temperature, the least it could do was be consistent in its choice.

    In his conscious moment, which were few and far between, he vaguely realized that his wounds much have become infected.  The high temperature escalated, as his body tried to burn the infection from his stricken frame.  Sweat rolled down his face and glistened over his body, even as his teeth chattered violently from the chills. 

    The pain was too much to bear at times, and he found himself half sobbing as he drew in yet another shaky breath, wondering if it would be his last.  The skin on his face and neck felt tight and withered.

     The feverish hallucinations that accompanied his half-conscious state, was the worst.  Trapped in terrible nightmares, and forced to witness his mother’s death again and again, drove him to near hysteria as he thrashed and cried out.  Other times he was on board Ciara’s ship again, only this time he was plummeted into the ocean, lost in the churning of the waves.  Sometimes, he saw the lion tearing at him, biting savagely and slicing through his skin.  And when all these failed to come to memory, the remembrance of his father’s violence and abuse drowned out any other sensibility.

     Zarek wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he became coherent enough to recognize his surroundings.  His eyes focused on the wooden beams that were crisscrossing over the ceiling.  He was in a sloping hut that wasn’t his fathers.  Someone was speaking.  He tilted his head, and his vision blurred, for a brief moment he thought that it was his mother kneeling beside him.  Blinking again, the woman came into focus and Zarek’s heart clenched, it wasn’t his mother.  Marina, Natan’s mother.

     She smiled at him and pressed a hand to his forehead.  Her hand felt cool and soft, and almost as tender as his mother’s.  “Your fever has broken.”

    Zarek said nothing at first, his mind still trying to recall why he was there.  The memories flooded back.  He swallowed several times before he was able to get any sound to come forth.  “How long have I been here?”

     Marina’s smile faltered, “Two months.”

     He stared at her.  How could that have been possible?  Had he really been unconscious all this time?  He started to sit up, but the pain in his shoulder stopped him.  He closed his eyes and his right hand reached up to touch the stiff bandages that bound his chest.  He continued to search until his hand rested on the side of his face.  There was a shallow groove in his skin that felt tender to the touch.  That must have been where the claws of lion had grazed him.

     Marina shifted.  “The first several days you stayed at the temple, but you became steadily weaker.  Natan begged us to bring you here, and the priests relented.  And so we have tended you ever since.”

     “And my father?”  He didn’t know why he asked, except for the faint hope that something might have changed.

     “Your father stops by every couple of days, but he has resumed fishing with the other men.  He is very busy.”  As she spoke, her eyes drifted from his.

     Zarek nodded though he didn’t believe her.  He felt tired and his vison began to waver, Marina patted his arm gently.  “You should rest now.  You’ll get your strength back much more quickly if you allow yourself time to heal.” He blinked once more, before his eyes slid shut.      

     The days passed slowly as he regain his strength.  Zarek learned that the rogue lion he had killed, had been very old.  In this he had been fortunate.  If it had been a younger lion, his collarbone would have been crushed beyond repair.

     As it was, the lion’s teeth had cut across his left shoulder and arm; and the claws had left deep, wicked looking furrows down his neck and against one side of his face.  He understood then, why his skin felt so tight, but he was relieved.  He was finally beginning to heal.

     Zarek had yet to see the damage done to his face and neck.  And his other wounds were covered with thick bandages.  Though he hadn’t seen his reflection, he knew it would look terrible.  His fingers had traced the deep, healing wounds numerous times.  The claw barely missed the tender skin around his eye.  He’d close his eyes, but wouldn’t allow himself to think on it for too long.  Instead, he pushed such thoughts from his mind, and focused on trying to regain mobility in his left arm and shoulder.

     Natan had come to see his friend as soon as he heard that Zarek was awake.  He paled only slightly as he saw his friend, and Zarek’s stomach twisted a little.  “Natan,” he greeted, his voice was soft, subdued.

    He watched as Natan’s eyes traced the visible scars across his face, down his neck, and to his shoulder where it disappeared under the bandages.  He forced a smile.  “I look terrible don’t I?”

    His friend looked startled, but was quick to shake his head.  “No.  It doesn’t look bad.  It will heal.”

    “It will scar,” Zarek said simply, with no malice in his words.  He smiled again, his friend sound much like how he had.  It had been his hope that the wounds would go away, fade perhaps.  Yet, he had traced the marks enough to know that they would always be a vivid reminder of his near brush with death.

    He shook himself, not wanting to linger on such morbid thoughts, this was the first time they had talked with each other since the attack.  “How have you been?”  He leaned back against a pile of skins, already feeling tired from sitting up as long as he had.  He was still weak.

    His friend noticed and his eyes grew anxious, “Are you tired, do you want to rest?”

    Zarek shook his head and instantly regretted it, as pain and nausea made him squeeze his eyes shut.  He could feel Natan squeezing his shoulder and rasped out, “I am fine.  My injuries hurt a little, that is all.”

    Natan didn’t look like he believed him, but he must have been eager to talk with his friend as well, because he didn’t press the matter further.  “I thought you were going to die. I went to the temple every day to offer sacrifice,” he said loyally.

    “That wasn’t necessary Natan,” Zarek said in protest.

    “No Zarek, I wanted to.   The head priest, Rarrok, said that one of our enemies had charmed the lion, and so it was possessed by an evil spirit to attack us and kill our cattle.”  His eyes shined with pride and admiration, “You are a hero Zarek!  Not a man in the village could boast of such an act of courage.  Old Mala said it was the largest lion he had ever seen!”

     Zarek listened to Natan’s words as they tumbled out in a never ending stream.  It was difficult to understand half of what his friend was saying and he was relieved when Natan took a deep breath and finished, “I am so thankful that the gods spared your life.”

    He felt a moment of irritation at the last, and grumbled, “That was about all they did.  They sure didn’t spare me the pain.”

    His friend laughed, too cheerful and relieved to see Zarek return to his old self, to be frightened by his speaking ill of the gods.  He leaned forward eagerly.  “As soon as you are well enough, there is to be a ceremony in your honor.  The chief will present you to the village and give you many fine gifts.”

    “I would rather not attend,” Zarek sighed, feeling more than a little tired.  His eyes were beginning to close.

    Natan scooted closer.  “Do you want me to help you lie down?” he asked with concern. 

    Having to rely on others hurt his pride, but having them see his weakness was almost more than he could bear.  “I am not helpless,” he snapped, before he could stop himself.

    “But you have been quite sick,” Natan replied, not at all ruffled by his friend’s sharp words.

    Zarek shook his head, feeling guilty, “I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you Natan.”

    Natan offered a crooked grin at his friend’s admission.  “Well, that is the closest you’ve ever come to an apology.”

    He offered a wry smile in return.  “I just want my strength to return.  I am tired of sitting in this hut day after day with nothing to do, other than rest.  I want my body to heal now!”

    “Your body has been through quite the ordeal,” Natan reminded him, his voice calm and even.  His eyes traced the scars on Zarek’s neck and the one on the side of his face.  “It will take time to regain your strength fully.  You must be patient.”  For a moment, silence fell between them.

     Zarek shifted as a new thought struck him, he had forgotten to ask about the others.  One in particular.  He looked up at Natan, “How is Soma?  Lazy dog, it should be him lying here instead of me.”  He muttered the last with a dark scowl.

    His friend chuckled, “Much wiser than he was the day the lion attacked.  He has not ceased to praise you or tell the others how you saved his life.  Rather generous, considering his personality.”  He shrugged and smiled again, “He calls you his friend.”

    “Clumsy fool,” Zarek grumbled.  “If it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be lying here now.  As if praise from his addled tongue could be believed…”

    Natan laughed again, “I don’t know about that.  He does paint quite a convincing tale.   Tamraz, Chikku, and Naba also speak very well of you.  You would think that you were a god by the stories they tell.”

    Zarek clenched his hands and looked down, “A god could heal himself.”

    Natan shrugged his shoulders, “God or not, I don’t care.  As long as you are alive and mending I will be glad.”

oOo

    Several days passed before Zarek was strong enough to leave the bed.  Then, the priests took him and began their preparations to ready him for the special ceremony.  The lion had been skinned; its teeth and claws had been polished and strung onto a necklace for Zarek to wear.

     The priests took their time, draping the cured skin of the lion across his shoulders.  The newly healed wounds had left scars visible to all.  However, all thoughts of that fled when the priests settled the lion necklace over his head.  Zarek didn’t like the rattling sound of ivory against his chest, or the scratching of the sharp, pointed teeth and claws against his skin.

     He knew from Natan, that the heart of the lion had been burned to destroy the evil spirits.  Yet, the priests had offered many more sacrifices, before they were finally satisfied that the evil had been destroyed.

    Zarek glanced down at the silken, scarlet tunic the priests had given him, and noted with some annoyance the thick, silver bands that had been painted on his arms.  At last all was ready and the priests formed a procession on either side of him.

     The head priest, Rarrok, emerged just in time to take his place in front of the procession and the other priests began to chant.  The metal boxes of incense at the end of their staves swayed as they walked, and the procession descended the steps of the temple.  Zarek gritted his teeth as villagers lined the edge of the paths, stewing flowers and grass across the path.  This continued all the way to the center of the village.

    There seemed to be an unusual amount of cheering as he approached the chief.  Something was different and he tried hard to mask his confusion.  One of the priests leaned close to Zarek and whispered in his ear, “It has been rumored that the spirits of the gods have become reincarnate in you.”

     This surprised Zarek.  He looked at the villagers again.  They appeared friendly, but fear and reverence shadowed their eyes as if they half expected him to perform some terrible and wondrous deed.

     Zarek knew the truth, he wasn’t a god… but that didn’t matter.  He might now be in a position to control his own destiny.  Fate didn’t have to be so cruel.  He would choose the paths he would take.  His mind wandered warily to his father.

    Arrod had followed behind the temple priests in the possession.  He had also been honored.  Still, Zarek felt confident that he would soon break free from his father’s grasp.  Indeed, after facing the lion, his father’s drunken rage didn’t seem quite as fierce.  He pushed the thoughts from his mind, the ceremony was about to begin.

     The chief bowed deeply at the waist.  “You honor us with your presence Zarek ben Nadin.  May the gods smile on you.”

    Zarek nodded but said nothing, following the instruction of the priests.  The chief straightened again and gestured behind him with his arm.  “The village offers you a hundred head of cattle.  Their gift to you for slaying the enchanted lion.”  His smile widened and he bent his head, smiling humbly at Zarek.  “And I would also like to present you, with a gift of my own.”

    One of the chief’s slaves stepped forward with something wrapped in black seal skin.  The chief took it and presented it to Zarek, unwrapping the object for Zarek to see for himself.  In the folds of the smooth, black fur, lay a silver dagger, the scabbard being intricately carved with a crouching lion.  It was indeed, a splendid gift.

    Zarek accepted it and one of the priests stepped forward to hold it for him as Soma stepped forward.  Zarek looked at his old rival, with a mixture of emotion.  Soma bowed at the waist also, before extending his spear, “I give my spear into your possession, it is rightfully yours and I would be honored if you accepted it.”

    No one said anything, but Soma’s actions attested to the fact that he had relinquished his claim to become chief after his father’s death.  In doing so, it was now acknowledged that Zarek would most likely, be their next chief.  Zarek accepted this gift likewise in silence, hardly nodding his head.  Too much was happening, too fast.  He had expected the ceremony to be extravagant, but nothing like this! 

     As soon as the spear passed from Soma’s hand to Zarek’s, the crowd cheered loudly.

    Next, he was escorted to the giant feast that had been prepared for the occasion.  Rice, figs, grapes, and boiled fish overflowed the large platters placed before him.  The men of the village sat in a giant circle with Zarek being at the head of it.

     He could see Natan grinning at him from his spot, several paces away and he wished he could have his friend sitting beside him.  Zarek knew it was better for Natan to remain where he was.  He would do his friend no good by showing favoritism.  Still, it was nice to know that his friend smiled encouragement, full heartedly giving his support.

    The chief sat on Zarek’s left and the head priest, Rarrok, sat on his right.  It took all of Zarek’s will to remain calm as the chief priest began to celebrate.  His eyes narrowed on their own accord.

  Rarrok, the man responsible for his mother’s death.  As Zarek stared at the cape of shiny fish scales that the priest wore, he lost any desire to eat.  His hands clenched and unclenched in anger, but he knew that if he showed outright hatred for the man beside him, he would lose the favor of many of the villagers.  He would just have to bide his time.

    Now that he was becoming more powerful, he would have his opportunity soon.  And if he played his role just right, not only would the village belong to him… but he would have their hearts too.  Zarek wasn’t a fool; he knew his greatest advantage was having the hearts of his people.  He knew there would be consequences if he behaved foolishly.  Power could be just as easily stripped away as it could be given.