(Part II) - Zarek ben Nadin Chronicles - A Warrior's Courage - Chapter #6

     Morning broke; shattered rays of light reached Zarek where he was dozing on his cot.  The sound of soldiers bustling about, though almost silent, made the atmosphere vibrate with a disturbing energy that roused him from his fitful sleep.  He raised himself tentatively on one elbow.

    His back felt stiff and crusty.  It was fortunate that he had not been called for duty or training yesterday.  Eparan had brought him his share of rations and changed his bandages, before leaving again.  He had to attend the morning roll call, but as soon as it was over, he had returned to his cot.

    He was feverish now, and uncomfortably warm.  Gabri’s herbal tea reduced the pain he was experiencing and helped with the fever.   Zarek had endured his discomfort in his usual sullen silence.

    Now, he winced as he pulled himself to a sitting position.  Someone was just outside the barrack door and he tensed.  The crunch of sand against the stone floor was loud, and then the mantle that hung over the door was lifted.  The light blinded him and he doubled over, squeezing his eyes shut with a whimper.

    “The light hurts, I am sorry,” Gabri said in apology.

    Zarek blinked and looked up.  The older warrior brushed his forehead and frowned, “Your fever has worsened.”

    Zarek said nothing as Gabri pulled away and began crushing herbs, which had been sewn into a sack.  When he was satisfied, he set the sack in the water which boiled over their fire.

    When it had finished steeping, Gabri poured him a cup and offered it to him.  Zarek stared at the steamy black liquid.  Gritting his teeth, he sipped some of the tea.  It was bitter, dulling his pain, as well as his senses.  When he had drained the cup he tried putting back on his bedside table.  However, he misjudged the distance and it toppled to the floor.  The clattering sound of pottery alerted him to his failure, and he fell back against his cot.  His strength had dried up.  The bitterness faded in his mouth, and he was unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

    When he woke, he sat up slowly.  The pain had dulled, and he blinked, realizing it was late now in the day.  He started to rest his back against the wall, but the raw and throbbing pain made him change his mind.  Instead, he drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. 

    The warriors at the fireside smiled in approval.  Zarek heard Eparan grunt and turn back to the fire where he and Malicu were cooking their evening meal over the fire.  Husai and Gabri finished shaking the leather cloaks free from water.  They had just come from outside, and Zarek could hear the drive of rain against the barrack door.

    The rumble of thunder made him cringe and he rubbed his fingers together.  He wasn’t as hot as before, perhaps the fever had left him.  His body shook with a sudden chill, and scooted to the edge of his cot.  His nose was dripping and his head ached.  Perhaps he was still sick after all.

    The door was suddenly thrown open.  Zarek looked up, his eyes jerking to the figure in the doorway.   His heart clenched, as his father entered.  He registered this information with shock, and then his father had crossed the floor and two short steps.  Arrod grabbed his arms, jerking him up and slamming against the wall.

    The healing skin tightened on his back, and then split at the impact.  He cried out, and his father backhanded him across the jaw and snapped his head back.

    “What is this I hear?”

    His father’s roar just reached his ears before his head was snapped back again by a tremendous blow.  Blood poured from his nose and filled his mouth.  He was gasping, and then realized he couldn’t breathe.  He grasped at the wrists of the hands that only tightened around his neck.  He clawed more desperately and felt his vision blinked black before coming into focus.

    “Drunk and getting into fights?  You have even less sense than what I thought.  Dim witted fool.  To think I call you my son.  You shame me.  Flogged!  They should have flogged you until learned something from your foolishness.”

    His father’s hold relaxed, and Zarek gasped in sudden relief of being able to breathe again.  He was aware that his father had thrown him to ground.  Disoriented, he lay dazed against the floor.  His back felt warm and sticky.  Blood.  He made an effort to stand, but then his father reached down and jerked him to his feet.  He was propelled through the open door.  The wind and rain whipped at his face the instant he stepped outside, and he gasped.

    He was being pushed forward.  Cold, grimy mud splashed up his legs.  The rain continued to pelt him like a thousand bees, stinging his face, arms, and hands.  He had no sense of direction and didn’t know where his father was taking him, but he continued to stumble on senselessly.  He realized that the cold had numbed him, but his body rebelled against that information and shivered uncontrollably.

    His hair was plastered to his forehead and the water washed the blood from his nose and into his mouth, making him gag.  He was climbing now.  He suddenly missed a step and scrapped his shin.  The pain flared up sharp, before quickly dulling.  They stopped, and at last he realized where he was.  They were on the walls of Nineveh.

    He had just processed this information when his father slammed him against the stone wall and jaw rattled.  His father’s face was so close to his that he was able to see the white of his cruel, mean eyes. 

     “You will take your turn guarding the wall like everyone else.  Don’t you dare leave your post or I’ll have you executed.  Do you understand?”

    His father didn’t wait for his answer but shoved him away.  Arrod turned to the surprised guard that stood nearby, Zarek only then, realized the soldier’s presence.

      “This is by order of Captain Basiem, if this man leaves the wall before daylight he is to be reported!” His father turned and descended the stairs, leading back to ground level.

     Zarek stood alone, shivering.  He glanced at the soldier who had walked several paces away.  The guard was staring.

     His teeth hurt from rattling together and the cold, which had numbed him previously, gripped his limbs with a freezing intensity.  His very bones seemed to be made of ice.  Water ran into his eyes and against his will he found himself crumbling against the ground.  He remained in a half upright position, his head leaning against the wall and water streaming down his face and chin.

    Then a shadowy figure stood before him.  He stared stupidly at the man, not comprehending anything, perhaps expecting to be punished for not standing while on duty.  To his surprise, the man kneeled beside him and wrapped him in a heavy, waterproof cloak.  Instantly, his body’s heat clung to him and swirled around under the thick leather material.  Blinking he stared at the face before him.  “Eparan?”

     Eparan stood and walked over to the guard, who was watching.  He could see by the sputtering of a torch that Eparan was talking and pointing back at him.  The guard was shaking his head and Eparan become more insistent as he dropped coins into the guard’s hand.  At last the guard nodded and stuffed the coins into a bag.

    “Where are we going?” Zarek quavered, as he was pulled to his feet.

    “I’m taking you back to the barracks.”

    “Are you crazy?”  He pulled back from the man and almost fell.  “Are you trying to get me killed?”

    “I want you to live, which is precisely the reason why I am taking you back to the barracks.  Madness, complete madness for you to remain out here, you would come down with the shaking sickness and then what would you do?  It is better for you to come with me.”

    “My father left with strict orders to the guard that he was to report me if I left my post.”  Zarek was trembling, his fever had spiked and it felt like his mind, instead of his feet, were wading sluggishly through mud.  He couldn’t comprehend what Eparan was saying, and gritted his teeth together to stop them from chattering.  “I’ll be executed for deserting my post!”

    Eparan hardly glanced down at him.  “The watch guard was paid for his silence.  He will not report you.”

    Zarek stumbled down the stairs, it seemed harder going down that it had up.  Why were the steps so slippery?  He leaned more heavily against Eparan.  “Why are you doing this?”

    “We’re friends Zarek.  You are perhaps the only one I have really ever had.  No one else would have done what you did.”

    When Zarek entered the barracks again his body was stricken with fever.  The intense heat made him wonder if his skin was being boiled off of him.  Eparan helped him to the cot and he lay there shivering as Eparan threw several heavy blankets over him.

     Gabri crossed to him, and lifted Zarek’s head while putting a steaming cup to his lips.  The liquid that rushed through his mouth was hot and bitter, but slid easily down his throat.  His eyes felt heavy, and against his will he found himself drifting off to sleep.

     Zarek awoke several hours later, it was still dark but Eparan was sitting beside him.  He lifted his head, but then his chest constricted, forcing a cough from his dry throat.  Eparan brought the cup once again to his lips.  Whatever was in the cup made Zarek’s mouth burn, but he felt an instant warmth and he slept again.

    When he woke, it was daylight.  He was alone in the barracks.  Testing his strength, he was able to pull himself up into a sitting position.  His throat felt sore and his eyes hurt but the fever was gone.  He swung his legs over the side of his bed, and stood.  Blood rushed to his head and he had to grip the wall to keep from falling.  When his senses cleared, he took some tentative steps.  Eparan suddenly appeared in the doorway and he froze.  For a moment they both stared at each other.

    Eparan search him with apprising eyes, and then nodded grimly in satisfaction.  “Glad to see that you are up and about.  You’ve been down quite a spell.”

    Zarek felt his jaw go lax, “What do you mean?  How long have I been sick?”

    “Three days, the physician certified that you were not to leave the cot.  It seems that a fever running in other barracks and it is thought to be spreading.  He wasn’t sure that it would be wise to move you.”

    “A fever?”

    “A passing thing, the weather has been cold and rainy.  Men are bound to get sick from being wet and cold while gone for hours on patrol.”  Eparan shrugged as if it didn’t bother him one bit, and Zarek decided that it didn’t bother him either.

     Zarek’s health rapidly improved over the next couple of days.  His back healed and he resumed his usual duties, though staying clear from his father.  Bitterness, anger, and resentment filled his being like a giant stone that was weighty and cold.

    It was late spring when the call of battle ran through the barracks.  In a flurry of activity men put on armor and retrieved their weapons, before getting out their gear for a long march.  Excitement turned into a feverish frenzy.  At last they would have more in their pockets than the few coins they received from the quartermaster for their services every month.  They would have loot, the chance to prove themselves, and the opportunity for promotion.  They would be fighting at the borders of the Kingdom, against the Babylonians.

     Zarek frowned when he saw his father ordering the men about and preparing them for battle.  His frown deepened when he noticed the badge of an officer gleaming on his father’s armor.  The Captain must have promoted him.  Shaking his head, Zarek wondered what Captain Basiem saw in his father, that he was capable or even worthy of leading men.

      Bitterness seethed in his soul, when he found that his father had been placed as the officer of his battalion.  He stared hard at the man’s back, with narrowed eyes.  “May the gods reward you with evil and may you perish on the field of battle without honor,” Zarek whispered under his breath.  The air felt black around him, but his chest felt strangely light.

    Before long, they were traveling.  It took several days to reach the field of battle, and another day to array themselves against the Babylonians.  The opposing army was large, at first Zarek thought it was larger than theirs, given the size of the dusty cloud boiling just beyond their lines.  Eparan leaned close and explained that the Babylonian cavalry was riding back and forth, to give the appearance of a much larger force.  Zarek was comforted by that knowledge.

     Now his eyes searched their army’s battalions as they made their way to the place they would set their standard.  Natan was not among them, neither were any of the other men from his village.  He had not seen his friend though, in quite a number of months.  The knowledge alone, concerned him.  Worse than that, no one could tell what had happened to him.

    Zarek tried hard to push this from his mind, and tried to focus on preparing mentally for the battle ahead.  His eyes closed, but then flashed open out the disturbance around him.  Frowning, he looked up.  That’s when he got his first glimpse of Chief General, Saliba Abudemio.  The man’s beard was gray, though his eyes were still sharp and youthful.  His shoulders were broad.  The very confidence in which he carried himself, seemed to make his personal staff settled, and focused.

    “That my friend, is a true warrior,” Eparan said behind him, and Zarek could see that the older warrior was also watching the Chief General ride by.  Zarek nodded in agreement.

    As the sky darkened, Zarek wandered through the camp, weaving his way through the pitched tents.  In the distance, in the valley below them, he could see small campfires springing up in the evening dusk.  The men were solemn but they made an effort to boost their courage by songs of bravery and attainable wealth.  Zarek knew, as they all did, that when next they gathered by the fire, there would be some missing.

    He frowned as he continued walking.  Some men rubbed sacred amulets or burned incense.  To which of the numerous gods they served, Zarek knew not and he didn’t care either.

      Returning to the campfire he shared with Eparan, they passed the time in companionable silence.  When he glanced up, he saw his father and Captain Basiem walking among the men that were sitting beside their campfires.

    Perhaps they were encouraging the men, but Zarek highly doubted that.  He moved closer to the shadows in hopes that they would passed him by.  They did, and he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.  Whatever, happened to him tomorrow, whatever the outcome, he would survive.