(Part I) - Zarek ben Nadin Chronicles - Chapter #13

     It was a dark and stormy night.  Sleep escaped Zarek and he sat beside the fire, wrapped in warm robes and gazing into the flames.  He reflected with satisfaction on the vengeance he had exacted on the head priest.  Though it felt right for his mother to be revenged, it still didn’t touch the cold sorrow that weighed as heavy as the black stones of Apsu Dias.

    Rarrok and his priests were dead, but it wouldn’t bring back his mother.  He wished with all his heart that it would.  Inevitably, his mind turned to the man that was his father: hands stained with the innocent blood of his mother.  But at this, he was reluctant.  Zarek couldn’t order his father’s death, though no one in the village would blame him.  Arrod had no real favor.

    The swirling thoughts of revenge darkened his spirits.  Thinking of revenge ultimately left him to reflect on what he remembered about his mother.  He remembered one night, during a storm that was even fiercer than the one now, he had cried in terror.  He was sure that, Hadad, god of the storms was displeased with them in some way.  Only when his mother had pulled him close so that he could hear the calm beat of her heart, and had told him storms were just a natural force of nature, did his fear dissipate.

    It was that night that his mother had told him that people couldn’t always explain things, so they had to invent imagined deities to serve.  Most people, his mother had explained, invented gods so that others would fear and obey them.

     He had asked her then, if all gods were false.  She had told him no, that she had heard of a God, One who had created all things.  She explained that people often would worship attributes, creations, or characters of this God as separate deities.  She had also said, that it was part of a person’s nature to want to serve or worship.

    It had all made sense to him when she had explained it.  He would never forget one particular thing she said.  She had looked him in the eye and told him, that if ever he found the True God, a God that was not limited but could do all things, to serve Him with all his heart and not turn away.

    That was the only thing he had trouble accepting.  How could there be only one God?  The world was so vast and complex that it was beyond him to imagine such a Supreme Being.  Zarek wondered if Ashur could be the supreme god, for the priests had called him: creator, preserver, and destroyer.  It was the only god that could manipulate and work in all elements: water, earth, air, sun, sky, moon, stars, fire and lightning, plants, and animals.  Ashur was a warrior, wearing a feathered robe and with his right hand, he reached up to bless his people; in his left hand he held a bow to slay their enemies.

      Zarek was loathe to believe the priests.  He hadn’t had good experiences with them in the past.  He hated the lies and deceit that swirled around him. 

     The door to the hut was suddenly brushed aside, and Sargon entered.  His body guard wore a waterproof seal cape, but he had neglected to wear his hood, and so rainwater ran in torrents down his face.  The man bowed and presented a scroll wrapped in a heavy cloth.  “This just arrived.”

    Zarek accepted the message in silence and took the scroll from its casing.  He frowned at the writing.  He had learned some of the general characters, but not enough to make reading pleasurable or easy.  Turning it to the firelight, he labored over the scripted writing.  His concern grew when he noted the official seal of the king.  His heart began hammering and he broke the seal to read through the contents.  It was from one of the chief generals of King Ashurdan III.

    His eyes skipped over the greeting and introduction to the main point of the message.  It was requiring fifty men from their village, to report to Nineveh for active military training.  Zarek’s mind raced.  Right now, their village men numbered just over a hundred.  He looked at the date scrawled out and realized that they were ordered to arrive by the end of the month.  It didn’t give them much time to prepare for their journey or to arrive at their destination.

    A strange and unrelenting determination gripped Zarek just then.  He decided that he would accompany the men.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was destined for something more.  Now with his mother avenged, there seemed little reason to continue on in the small fishing village any longer.

    There was several problems that blossomed forth at his decision.  The main one, being that he would have to find someone to take his place.  He needed to put someone in charge, someone who would hold themselves accountable.  It made him uneasy; there were not very many men he would trust.  He didn’t dwell too long on this, and forced it from his mind.  His main objective was to arrive in Nineveh and without delay.

    The following morning came and with it, much excitement.  Zarek requested volunteers and there was no shortage of them.  It seemed as if every man wanted to be the one to go.  If one was a warrior, there was a great possibility of winning great honor and trophies, bettering themselves to more than just mere fishermen.

    From the volunteers, Zarek proceed to select the ones that would be going.  He didn’t want to take all of his best men.  It was important for their village to not be left undefended.  He left enough men to defend the village and proceeded to choose from the remaining.

    When he saw Natan among the volunteers he took him aside.  “Natan, I realize you want to go with me, but before you decide on this course of action, I must warn you that becoming a warrior is not going to be easy.  There is plenty enough to do here and the nomads will be gathering their forces to attack again.  We won’t be fighting as we did before, against discontented sheep herders.  We will be fighting warriors much older than ourselves with many years of warfare and experience.  It will be dangerous.”

    Zarek watched his friend carefully as he spoke.  Natan seemed to be taking it all in with consideration, and he continued, “If you are ordered to kill, you must do so.”

    Natan kept his eyes fixed on the ground before lifting them with some resolution.  “I want to go with you Zarek; there is nothing I can do here that will serve you.”

    Zarek closed his eyes; a soft sigh escaped his lips.  “Natan, you do not need to serve me, I am not your master.”

    Natan shrugged his shoulders, “I must give my loyalty to someone.”  His friend gave him a wry smile, “I serve the gods because I fear them.  But I do not feel content.”

    “I doubt you will feel content serving me,” Zarek said, responding to his friend’s unusual graveness with a smile.

    Natan didn’t smile, and retained his solemnness.  “If nothing else, I will honor my father and make him proud of me.”

    “Natan, your father is already proud of you.”

    “Yes, but I want him to be proud of me because I actually did something and not just because I am his son.  The only thing I can do in the village is either herd the animals or go out on the fishing boats.  And since I do not like water or lions, I figure I wouldn’t do well with either of those occupations.”

    “Well,” Zarek conceded.  “If you desire to go, I will not stop you.”

    Zarek smiled.  He would not be friendless in Nineveh.