Origin: Eternity's End

by Uneeb Qureshi

  A Spartan? In this temple? In Athens?

  He closed in behind the man, watching him. The robed man lowered his hood revealing unkempt hair.

  “So you found me, well done young Spartan. And you came alone.”

  Lior kept his eye on him, his countenance riddled with anger.

  “Do you know why I asked you to come here?” He was speaking in ancient Hebrew. Lior stared at him in shock, his Hebrew was rusty but he could make it out in fragments.

  “I am not fluent in Hebrew…” Lior said taking a step back. By and large, the temple denizens cared little for foreign tongues and ignored them. “How did you know?”

  Babak scratched his head, obviously embarrassed, “Back at the camp when you were bathing I noticed you were circumcised. I assumed it was not a birth defect…”

  Lior took a hearty laugh, “And you?”

  “I have been a Jew for quite some time, longer than you perhaps… You hide it from your men don’t you? You pretend to worship their gods to maintain your position, but in secret you practice the ancient Hebrew rites? I have seen you pray behind the men’s backs.”

  Lior nodded with a smirk, he knew of few even in his lands who were Jews themselves. He followed Babak toward the city, stopping just shy of the temple grounds. At this position they could barely make out the face and wings of Athena’s statue from their position.

  “I came to these lands because I was searching for someone dear to me,” Babak pointed to the statue, “and she may have had the answers.”

  “You call yourself a Jew but you believe in their gods?”

  Babak smirked, as he gazed at the moon his eyes turned blue, emitting a dim glow in the darkness. Lior jumped in shock, “What are you, a dybbuk?” He asked.

  “I am neither demon nor god,” Babak began, “I am immortal like their gods, if we hold to the same definition… but I neither retain the divinity nor power close to what they attribute to them.” He peered down again at the ground, “I ask God for forgiveness every day of my life, wishing I would be given back the one I search for.”

  He wiped his eyes, they were weary from travel. “I brought you here,” began Babak, “because like me you keep up a façade that you don’t wish others to see. You maintain your principles and belief even in the toughest of circumstances. You are a man of your word and honor.” Lior was flattered, he had never met a man such as this but he considered it fate that brought him here.

  “Who is this person you seek, I have travelled throughout Hellas for most of my life I may have seen one who looks like them.”

  Babak smirked and pointed at the statue of Athena, “I seek her.”

  “Pallas Athena?”

  “Atha,” he corrected, “My daughter.”

  “Your daughter left you?” Lior asked. “What did you do to deserve that?”

  “Arrogance and pride… I spoiled her in her youth and miraculously she grew out of it, hardened by her mother’s resolve. And I was the weaker…I guess you can say she taught me what was truly worth dying for in this world.”

  Lior was moved by his story but begged to ask the question, “Why did you come here?”

  “Because I knew you would come here, after me. I just had to give you clues.” Babak replied.

  “You knew I would come?”

  “You remind me of my younger self. You would chase me to find out what I know…” They both walked toward the main road. Lior realized he had left his men stationed on the hills of Marathon many hours ago. He needed to check on them. He hesitated to part but felt like he had to let Babak go. He was torn between his duty and curiosity, this had never happened before.

  But Babak knew too much about Lior…

  “Will we… ever meet again Babak the Immortal?” He said with his back turned to the road.

  “I shall be in these lands for one more season or so before I leave,” Babak said, “I shall find you.”

  Babak paused and walked into the woods beneath a tree. His belongings stood against the bark. He pulled out the wicker basket that contained the cobra and handed it to Lior. “I suppose your men would need proof of your deeds here,” he said, “I hope my little pet will serve that well. And I’m sure you will find a use for him in your travels.” He handed over the basket of mice with it before he turned to Athens.

  “Shabbat Shalom,” Lior yelled to Babak.

  “Ah…it is the Sabbath tomorrow. Is it not?” Babak returned the greeting and waved farewell to the Spartan warrior.

  Nearly a season passed since their fateful reunion, the free Greeks had fought hard and against innumerable odds at the hills of Marathon. They eventually routed the Persian fleet and ended the first invasion of Hellas. But the victory would be short-lived, their foes would soon return in greater force in the years to come. But until that time the poleis of Hellas rejoiced in the fleeting peace.

  Lior parted ways with his men. Instead of returning with them he chose to see another destination. In a day’s time he had returned to the fateful streets of Athens. Again his Spartan attire had given him a few strange looks as he approached the temple.

  It was peaceful now, the priests and priestesses worked tirelessly for the temple of their city’s patron god. He stood resolute searching the horizon on the hill seeing nothing but drunken Athenians wallo-wing in the squalor of their victory. After the sun dipped over the horizon he realized it was time to go. He picked up his belongings and left the city, but as he left he took a long stare at Athena.

  He is the immortal father of Pallas Athena…

  After a few days travel by the road he had reached his people’s ancient home lands. He was greeted a hero, an honorable commander of the sciritae battalion. Families proudly displayed their daughters in ivy crowns and elegant gowns as he passed by. He humored them, but wished to remain a free man for some time.

  He accepted offerings from children, flowers and amphora of wine among other things. He was even given a horse to carry the spoils to his home farther into the mountains.

  Understandably he grew weary of these celebrations. War would never stop for him, the Spartan regime would see to it. They had not bred an army for peace.

  These people cherish victory but do not know the cost of war.

  Before he left the village he saw a haggardly man walking with a cane in front of the polis’ political house. The man was senile, repeatedly turned away and even scoffed at by the locals before being thrown to the ground. His tattered clothes barely covered his body while his cane was thrown into the streets. The old man wept bitterly at his predicament, not knowing if what he did was right or wrong.

  Lior jumped off his horse and landed just a few meters shy of the man. He picked up the cane and helped him to his feet. His humped back was his spoil of war from many years in the past. Few knew of the horrors he had faced during war, but Lior recognized the man from his youth. A once proud warrior, he was Lior’s role model, a man bound only to honor.

  No one knew what happened to him in between his years of war and his current state. But he had lost the respect of the village that raised him.

  Lior fought off the onlookers and gave the man his cane, though the man did not recall Lior he kissed him on the forehead and thanked him profusely. Lior helped him onto his horse. He still knew where the man lived.

  Another man approached Lior from behind. His horse was not startled. It listened to him and neighed effeminately toward the man as if knowing him for quite some time.

  “We meet again, young one.” Babak said with a chuckle. He passed the horse to Lior as he helped the wizened warrior upon the saddle. “A fine Trojan horse this is. A gift from Leonidas himself for your efforts at Marathon.”

  “It is a fine horse,” He mounted on it himself and prepared to leave. Lior was not one for small talk but Babak was no normal man, “Will you come and dine with my father and I tonight? The Sabbath begins yet again…”

  Babak nodded, he was honored. They took a winding road out of the polis toward Lior’s home
.

  It was not long before night fell over the aerie peaks. The region was beset by blustery evening winds. They eventually arrived and Lior closed the shutters of his dwelling while preparing for the Sabbath.

  His father prepared the food, in the style that Lior’s mother once made. The man’s hair was short and wavy like his son’s. The man was middle-aged and wrinkled, but he still maintained a youthful body nearly comparable to his son’s. Pain wracked his heart, but like his son he chose to show no grief.

  They had lit three honorary Shabbat candles, symbolizing the three of them present that night. Babak was honored to have led the Kiddush. They held hands solemnly on the table and held their heads low as Babak recited the ancient Hebrew prayers.

  Babak spoke the Hebrew so fluently that it nearly brought tears to Lior’s father, they had all but given up hope that their people still existed in this world. Babak was offered bread and wine not soon after. The evening was cordial. The loud rattling of the wooden shutters did little to hinder the occasion.

  “Lee has told me you are from the East?” His father asked.

  “Lee?” Babak said with a confused look.

  “Ah it’s my son’s pet name, his mother and I had named him Lior to fit in with many of the Spartans around these poleis… though it is also a proud Hebrew name. But at home we always called him Lee.”

  Lior shrugged as Babak grinned, “Upon your first question yes, I come from the Eastern kingdoms of this world. As I told Lee I was born in a western village in the Persian Empire. My family had a long lineage from the Israelites, all the way to King David himself.” He hurried through his meal as if nervous.

  Lee’s father was fascinated by the man, but he knew inside that there was something about him. He asked his son to tend the flock outside, making sure they were okay. Lee obliged and exited promptly, taking his cloak and the wooden lantern with him.

  “He also told me that you were an immortal…” His father said while looking at his son through the shutters.

  Babak laughed, “The boy is resolute but has a wild imagination, and he may have misheard me.”

  “I know my son better than you do,” the grizzled man said as he slammed the table, “And he swore to me that he saw your eyes reflect blue in the moonlight. Is that true?”

  Babak put both of his hands on the table and finished swallowing his food before continuing. He pouted his lips and nodded. “That is true.”

  Lee’s father hit the table again, “Then you are!”

  Confused stares abounded.

  “Lee did not tell you? Our ancestors had the same eyes… My father and his father before him had told us tales of such things. Our people were once immortal…”

  An interesting turn of events.

  “What was your family’s name?” Babak asked.

  “Snidelios, but that was the name inherited from the man my great grand-mother had married in these lands.”

  A woman…that would explain it.

  “Do you recall your family name before that? Perhaps from your great grand-father’s line.”

  Lee’s father shook his head. “I know little before our people had arrived in these lands.”

  The genetic mutation may not have passed from the female …but would an entirely new age factor persist in the off-spring?

  “Your story is quite interesting…” Babak began, “But without further information I can’t say whether your people were of mine or not…perhaps your family was mistaken about—”

  “You would call us liars?” His father’s voice cracked and he coughed forcefully as if something was lodged in his lungs. After a minute of wheezing, a stream of blood dripped from the edge of his lips. Babak grabbed the man and checked him for any signs of infection.

  “Leave me.” his father wiped his face on his arms. A faint tear drop trickled down his left cheek. “You see friend, unlike my son I don’t believe I have as much time left in this world.”

  Babak let go as he heard Lee enter the house.

  “Your father, he…“

  Lee rushed to his father’s side and wet the remaining blood on his cheek with a rag. “Come boy,” His father pushed him aside, “Who taught you how to care for yourself.” He looked down at his food, attempting to dispel the copper taste left in his mouth.

  “Please Babak, we have a spare bed and would have you for the night.” Lior’s father added.

  Babak hesitantly nodded. Lee apologized to Babak for the incident but he would have none of it. Babak knew all too well about diseases and medicines, he grew ever curious about this family.

  Perhaps they are the link we’ve been searching for…

  Dawn broke quietly the next day, the rays of sunlight crept onto the ridges of the mountainous region leaving little unseen. Sounds of animals rustling from their sleep were heard outsideThe birds flew swiftly, anticipating dawn any minute. They serenaded the winds as the sun finally pulled itself over the horizon basking the land in its eternal glory.

  The image inspired hope, resilience and life. It was a feeling of serenity that one could only hope to achieve at the end of a lifetime.

  Babak sat awake in his bed. Peering out the window toward the hills and saw the great Hyparchos Lior already awake, tending his father’s flock and training on the hilly slopes.

  The place was unusually quiet. Babak twiddled his fingers, he was a little on the edge after what had transpired the previous night. His farewell visit to an old friend had turned into an unfortunate circumstance whose discovery was miraculous in and of itself. But how he would deal with it was becoming a problem.

  A hand grabbed his shoulder. Lee’s father sat beside him.

  “I hope you slept well.” He cleared his throat.

  “I could say the same to you,” Babak said light-heartedly.

  “Please… at my age the Spartans would kill for my body.”

  “How old may I ask are you?” Babak asked.

  “I have just breached my sixtieth year, but who keeps track of seasons these days? We live a simple life, and I’m thankful that my son will live to see more seasons than I have. A father could ask for nothing else.”

  His assumptions about the family were correct. It seemed their aging parameters had shifted, but to what extent was unknown.

  “And your illness?”

  “I haven’t been sick a day of my life, it’s what made my son and I as hardy as we are now. Lee has yet to be beset by anything more than a cold for a day or so.”

  Babak realized they shared a lot more in common with immortals than anticipated, but if the family had delineated from the pure bloodline what had the mutation become?

  “Then the blood you let from the cough last night… was that due to your illness?”

  The wizened man smirked, “I haven’t explained to Lee, but I have been sick for some time… since his mother died years ago.”

  He shook his head, “He did not mention her.”

  “Of course he didn’t. He loved her dearly, as did I.”

  Babak was confused, but the man elaborated, “But unlike him I could not bear it. Her passing has left a void in this home. She was young and her health was perfect, yet she passed away one morning without cause.” He wiped his face, “I explained to Lee as he grew older that she died of illness, so that he could proudly carry on his duty and not worry himself… Yet he prays for her every night before sleep…”

  The air in the room was silent for a moment, both men held heavy grief. Babak however was lost in thought, a sudden death? The thought was unheard of, immortal bodies are resilient, unless she was not immortal.

  “And this you could say,” Lee’s father concluded, “Is my illness. Utter grief…It has turned me into this weak man before me.”

  Babak understood now what was happening. He had heard of instances where immortals were permanently damaged by episodes of severe grief of stress. They exhibited unusual conditions, and ultimately suffered an early natural death.

  He pondered the thought
further. If the same occurred for pure blooded immortals then the trait must have carried over into the mixed offspring. Lee’s father was not dying from disease, but what seemed like an unwillingness to live. The ever beating heart of the immortals could only tolerate what the mind willed.

  Babak had to elaborate, “Has your illness ever gone away for some time with no harm to you?”

  Lee’s father shook his head, “She was as much a part of me as Lee was, and I could not bear losing both. So I made sure to raise my son to be resilient, a warrior to the core.”

  In reality the man did not want to burden Babak with his illness. He had long accepted the fact that his days were over. But he had only one final request.

  “Take my son with you and leave these lands forever,” The man said with heavy words, “I would rather have my son see the world and never return to these lands.”

  “But you may be able to recover from your condition.”

  “I am content with what is happening to me. Lee will not know this now, but I’m sure you will. Have you not lost someone very dear to you?”

  Babak sat still, his hands trembling at the thought. “Yes. A long time ago.”

  “And were you not content that their passing was inevitable, and that maybe they had chosen their path already? To give a better life for those that remained...” He wanted to say yes, but he suppressed the memories. Keeping them locked away for eternity.

  He said nothing, and merely nodded. In reality he had chosen to forget the past, he neither needed it nor wanted to remember it again. If he was to return to it he would have to face the demons of his past.

  “Then you know,” his father said in a whisper, “there is nothing more important to you than family in this world. You can befriend any person you meet and love any woman you will, but the one you are closest to is the one who is a part of you. The one who birthed your children or the child who is of your very blood…” He continued to cough uncontrollably, unable to stop.