February – 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Jamin
Jamin knew what was coming the moment he came home from the hunt and spotted Immanu leaving his father's house. Stiffening his spine to remind his father he was now a little bit taller than him, he strode inside and held out his share of the gazelle he and Siamek had slain, a peace offering to the man his whole life he'd called 'the Chief.'
“What the hell were you thinking?!!!" His father's anger hit him full-force like the leading edge of a sandstorm. "Halifians?!!!"
Veins bulged forth from the Chief's neck, muscular and thick from a lifetime of training as a warrior-chief. He spat out the last word as though it were goat shit.
“You weren’t going to do anything!” Jamin's black eyes flashed with anger. “You weren't even here when it happened! A demon was cast down from the sky in a fireball which nearly incinerated half this village and all you want to do is invite him over for a feast!”
“He possesses weapon we need to fend off our enemies,” the Chief's hand tightened into a fist. “The Halifians! In case you've forgotten who our real enemies are!”
“The Halifians are our enemies because our ancestors kicked their ancestors off of their tribal lands,” Jamin said. “How come you're not so anxious to invite them over to discuss things?”
“I tried! They ambushed us. Twice!" the Chief threw his arms to his side the way a referee would make an 'out' signal during a kabbadi match. "And then they…they…they…"
His father turned his back to him. Whatever the real reason the Chief hated the Halifians, it went far beyond the usual tit-for-tat water skirmishes the Ubaid waged perpetually against their neighbors. "At some point, you've got to acknowledge diplomacy doesn't work and take a hard line.”
“Diplomacy has not worked with the demon, either,” Jamin said. “First he shot lighting at us out of his firestick. And then he slaughtered eighteen men I hired to free my fiancé."
He replicated holding the firestick in front of him. It was peculiar magic, a weapon that didn't require cocking back your arm to throw a lightning bolt the way you would a spear or blade. It was a weapon he wished to get his hands on.
“Ninsianna is not your fiancé anymore,” the Chief said. “She has taken refuge with the winged one because you refuse to take no for an answer. He's not threatening her. He's protecting her. From you!”
Jamin's hand moved to protect his stomach as though he'd just been struck. His father always had known where to hit him where it hurt.
“She never gave me a reason why!” Jamin's voice broke. “She just broke it off. For no reason! One day she tells me she loves me and can't wait to get married, and then the next day she says she doesn’t. We didn't even have an argument!"
He turned his back so the Chief wouldn't see the tears that threatened to erupt at her betrayal. His chest heaved as he inhaled and held his breath, forcing the emotion back into the pit of his stomach. Real men didn't cry!
“Sometimes people just realize they just aren't right for one another,” the Chief said much more gently this time. “Ninsianna didn't leave you for the winged one. She left. And then when you tried to force her hand, she took refuge with someone powerful enough to make you back off. She's just not the right person to be the wife of a future chief.”
“Then who is?” Jamin said. “The other women are vapid like sheep! I want a mate who will be my equal in all things.”
“And the first thing you tried to do when you found that equal,” the Chief said, “was change her. You tried to force her to fit your narrow notion of what a wife should be. Is it any wonder she balked?”
“Mama followed your orders,” Jamin said. “She never dishonored you in front of the tribe.”
“You were nine years old when she died,” the Chief said. “You were too young to remember what she was really like.”
Jamin stared at a small, woven rug which occupied a place of honor on the wall. The colorful rug was unfinished, just like his mother's life.
“She used to sing me songs.” Jamin's eyes grew dark with pain. “And bake bread that was so good it made my mouth water. I don't remember her ever starting an argument.”
“If you think your mother was one to follow orders, then you'd better think again." His father's eyes focused wistfully into the past. “She was every bit as strong willed and independent as Ninsianna is. Or Needa, her mother. If you want to see how to treat a woman, look to how Immanu treats his wife.”
“Just two weeks ago you told me to stay behind because you didn't want the other chiefs to see Ninsianna try to boss me around!" Jamin said.
“It was an error on my part,” the Chief said. "And for that, I am sorry." Sorrow etched his father's face. “Sometimes I cannot bear to see that Immanu is as happy as I was when your mother was still alive. I would give up everything I own just to have your mother back for a single day.”
They stood there in a stalemate.
“He is a threat, father,” Jamin said. “He almost killed me. I looked into his eyes and what looked back at me wasn't human.”
“I agree he is not like us,” the Chief said. “But Immanu assures me the legends say his people are the champions of She-who-is.”
“His eyes turned black." Jamin shuddered at the memory. “When Ninsianna threw her body over mine to stop him, he nearly smote her as well. Whatever had possession of him, he did not recognize her.”
“He is a winged creature of legend,” the Chief said. “And a potential asset to this village. You need to stop thinking of him as your enemy and start thinking of ways to get him to teach us what he knows. We can use Ninsianna to bind him to our village.”
“So now Ninsianna is … what?” Jamin snarled. “A game piece on a cribbage board?”
“You didn't have a problem when it was you who wanted her against her will,” the Chief said. “In fact, when you pleaded with me to invoke my chiefly privilege to deny her hand to any other man, you convinced me what an asset an allegiance between the shaman’s daughter and the future chief would be. You wanted a healer for a wife so you could increase your own prestige!”
“A wise chief would meet a threat with whatever means are necessary,” Jamin said. “The demon will lead our enemy's right to us. We need to be prepared.”
“He possesses unbelievable strength and weaponry,” the Chief said, “but he has not moved against us. He has only harmed those who sought to harm him first.”
“He only waits because he is injured,” Jamin said. “If we strike while he is still weak, we have a chance to defeat him and take his firestick.”
“Until I meet him in person and gauge his character,” the Chief said. “I don't know what to think. It would be better for all concerned if he were our friend. Not our enemy.”
“You're passing up the only chance we may ever have to take him by surprise,” Jamin said. “While he is still weak enough for us to defeat him. It's foolish to pass up this opportunity.”
“A wise chief only uses force after all attempts at diplomacy have failed,“ the Chief said. “Not before. Once you use force, you lose forever the opportunity to reason with your enemy."
The muscle in Jamin's cheek twitched in irritation. It was an old argument, when to use force versus when to attempt diplomacy. His father granted favors to those who were weak and thus had little value as allies, while he was reluctant to send emissaries to tribes that were strong, such as the Halifians who forever dogged their existence. Although Jamin believed diplomacy had its place, they often found themselves to be polar opposites on when to attempt that diplomacy. As far as Jamin was concerned, diplomacy should only be used to placate an enemy who was too powerful to defeat.
“He is a threat,” Jamin said. “We may never get another chance."
“If you think he is a threat,” the Chief said. “Then you're free to train as many hours as you like with your warrior friends to hone your skills. Practicing for the worst while hoping for the best does no harm.�
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“Yes, father.”
“You will only practice after all of your other duties have been attended to,” the Chief added. “This is not an excuse to slack off!"
“Yes, father,” Jamin grumbled.
“But under no circumstances are you to go anywhere near him,” the Chief's eyes grew hard. “Or his sky canoe!”
“Yes, father,” Jamin muttered under his breath.
“Go, now,” the Chief said. “I have to go figure out how much damage your unauthorized theft of my resources has caused."
Jamin left. His father was a fool! Signaling his friends who loitered outside, they stalked off to the training field behind the village to practice. If the Chief wouldn't address the threat, they would. Jamin would make sure they were prepared.
Chapter 31
Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One Page 35
