One Life Well and Truly Promised

  One Life

  Well and Truly Promised

  By

  Richard D. Parker

  Also by Richard D. Parker

  The Temple Island Series:

  The Black Horseman

  Assassin of the Heart

  Elsewhere

  The Best of all Possible Worlds

  Also by Richard D. Parker

  The Temporal Knights

  For more information please visit my website at http://www.richarddparker.net/

  For Sharon,

  A Middle Eastern carpet seller, a fat Hawaiian, a southern slave

  and an American Mother

  Love you Mom

  ISBN-13:978-1507647516

  ISBN-10:1507647514

  Copyright © 2015 Richard D. Parker

  All right reserved

  Cover art by: ximagination 123rf

  One Life Well and Truly Promised is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  I want to give a special thanks to all those who volunteered with this project: Dawn Jerger, Shelly Kozozemski, Diana Biras, Gene Bertram, Mary McGinley, Karen Wingbermuehler, Dan and Marie Parker and of course my Mom and Dad. Thank you all!

  Table of Contents

  Encounter One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Encounter Two

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Encounter Three

  Chapter Eight

  Encounter Four

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Encounter Five

  Chapter Thirteen

  Encounter Six

  Chapter Fourteen

  Encounter One

  Chapter One

  Akintunde and Akhila

  3829 B. C.

  Akintunde’s high-pitched laugh changed quickly into a shriek as he ran for his life; luckily his mother was nearby, a predictable safe base in a world filled with danger. Eryx, his older brother, raced after him, an angry red welt growing rapidly in the center of his forehead where the rock-hard olive had hit him. Eryx, at thirteen, was a full three years older than Akintunde and was larger by half, but the younger boy was quick, and made quicker still by the fear of being caught. He spiraled around his mother in an ever-tightening circle, keeping just out of the reach of his determined older brother. Round and round he went, desperate to stay beyond Eryx’s grasp. At the last moment his mother came to his rescue. He had little doubt that in the end she would protect him from Eryx’s wrath; she always did.

  “Boys!” She shouted just in time, her voice filled with exasperation and just a touch of anger. It was enough to pull Eryx to a stop. Akintunde continued on for a moment before stopping directly behind his mother. He gripped the back of her supple leather skirt and peeked out from behind her back, unable to keep the amusement from his face.

  Eryx lunged and Akintunde squealed, but his mother easily caught Eryx by the scruff.

  “Stop it now,” she scolded and shook Eryx lightly.

  “Mother! He hit me,” Eryx complained and rubbed the red spot on his forehead where the well-thrown missile had connected.

  “I saw it,” Nari told her son, “and I also saw you throw an olive at Tunde.”

  “But mother…I missed,” Eryx argued, as if his own lack of precision was an incrimination against his younger brother.

  “Well, you should know better than to get into a throwing battle with Tunde,” Nari retorted. Akintunde took after his father Hiral in that respect. Nari’s husband was widely recognized as the best slinger in the village, and even at his young age, Tunde was considered a close second by many.

  Frustrated, having received little satisfaction from his mother, Eryx lunged for his brother again. Tunde jumped back and started to circle once more.

  “Boys,” rumbled a deep voice from near the top of the olive tree. Though spoken softly, the words carried down to them easily. It was their father, and both boys froze for an instant before hastily returning to the task of picking up fallen olives from the ground. Hiral, who was harvesting in the treetops, was not someone to cross lightly. The rest of the family was working quickly but carefully, trying to gather as many olives as possible before sunset, when the first harvest would be officially over. Ilki, the family’s eldest son, was also working in the treetops. He picked by hand, and he was very fast. He could pick as quickly as anyone in the village and took great pride in his skill. Hiral, on the other hand, used a small hand rake to pull olives from the branches, letting them fall to the ground to be collected by Nari, his wife, and his two sons. He worked rapidly, but carefully, so as not to damage the trees. It took some skill, but Hiral was unusually adept. He had a good eye and soft hands.

  Everyone worked steadily, taking just two short breaks, one for lunch and another in late afternoon. They needed the olives so the family would have enough oil to last through the year. Normally that would not be an issue, but this harvest there were only five of them. They’d lost Ruanna in the spring when she was married off to the master weaver of Hahl, a village on the far side of the Susa pass. Ruanna was a very fast picker and her presence would definitely be missed. Despite their disadvantage this year, the rules of the harvest did not change. It did not matter that Hiral sat on the council. His family received no special treatment because of his rank. There were one hundred and thirty-five olive trees in the grove. They were the prize property of the entire village and on harvest days everyone in Susa had equal access to them.

  Though the day was unusually hot in the afternoon, ominous clouds were moving in from the west. The entire village was out in force and everyone, young and old, scrambled to collect their share of olives.

  Olives matured at different rates depending on their position in the tree; the olives near the top ripened faster than the fruit on the lower branches. Hiral and his family were harvesting a mixture of ripened black olives, rosy olives in the mid-range, and some hard green olives. The right mixture of the three produced the very best oil, and the entire village was harvesting for oil. They would pick the vast majority of olives at this time. Because of the oils many benefits, it was a far more important commodity than the actual fruit. Later in the year, just before the cold season set in, there would be another, smaller harvest to collect the olives that were purposefully left behind. The late harvest was for olives that would be eaten, and they would all have to be picked by hand to avoid bruising.

  The atmosphere was festive despite the natural competition. The trees were heavy with fruit and there was plenty for all. There were three families working in the olive tree alongside Akintunde and his family. Five villagers were working their way through the upper branches, picking ripened fruit and placing them gently in baskets tied to their backs, or dislodging the fruit for those below to collect. There were ten additional people under the tree, all scrambling to collect the fallen fruit. Despite the competitive nature of the enterprise there was no fighting or animosity, those working the tree with Akintunde’s family were friends…very close friends.

  It was very tiring work but there was plenty of singing, laughter and friendly banter. Everyone in the village of Susa celebrated the harvest, for despite the toil, it was a very important and profitable day. The oil extracted from the olives was an essential staple of life. Not only was it used in lamps to light the long nights, but it was also indispensable for cooki
ng and was excellent for healing all kinds of ills, such as sore throats, snoring and earaches. Of course Nari, Akintunde’s mother, was partial to the oil because it made her long, waist-length black hair, shine like it had in her youth. She was proud of her hair. She considered it her best feature, but in this she was not alone in her vanity. The desire for beautiful hair was a common yearning among the raven-haired women of Susa, but all the villagers knew that the true worth of the olive trees came in trade. Olive oil was now highly coveted in the Kadian world and beyond, and it was making the tribes of the Zagros Mountains very rich.

  It was near dusk when Hiral accidently dislodged a large cluster of olives. He was growing tired and careless. The olives rained down on those working below and as fate would have it, two plunked loudly off the top of Nari’s head, one right after the other. She was scolding Eryx again and her mouth was open, so when the hard fruit hit they made a hollow sound, like a set of drums being played. Akintunde burst out laughing; ignoring the scathing look he received from his brother, who had yet to forgive and was not willing to share in his brother’s good humor. Hiral, however, had no such reservations, and chuckled softly in the tree above, at least until Nari shot him a withering look. He coughed loudly and instantly sobered, but not before winking slyly at his youngest, who continued to laugh uncontrollably.

  “Keep working,” his mother insisted, trying hard not to smile. Her expression only set Akintunde to laughing harder, until there was little chance he could stop.

  “We don’t have much more time,” Nari cajoled, trying not to get entangled in her son’s merrymaking. Suddenly a young girl raced under the tree, attracted by the commotion. Nari instantly lightened her tone and smiled at the newcomer. The young girl was striking, with large dark eyes and black hair that shimmered in the late evening sun.

  “Hello Akhila,” Nari greeted with deference, for she was the daughter of the High Priestess of Susa.

  “Hello,” Akhila answered, just as a final olive struck Nari squarely on top of her head. It bounced high and then landed neatly in her basket.

  Akintunde and Akhila stood in shock for a brief moment and then both howled with laughter, their mirth so intense that they fell to their knees at the exact same moment. The two youngsters were so surprised by this mirrored feat that they suddenly fell quiet, again at the exact same instant. They stared at one another for several seconds, shocked by the sheer double coincidence of their actions, and then as if by cue, burst out laughing together. Their movements were so well timed they almost seemed choreographed. Nari finally succumbed and laughed at the absurdity of the situation…even Eryx joined in, momentarily forgetting the painful knot protruding from the middle of his forehead.

  “All right children,” Nari finally admonished, as she struggled to suppress her own laughter. “Akintunde, let’s get back to work before your father catches us at play. He’ll be angry if we shirk our duties,” she added, though the truth was she had far more interest in this harvest than her husband. While the family’s assets might legally belong to Hiral, it was Nari who managed the household, and the wealth. She was the brains and the driving force behind everything that was decided in her little world; her husband was just the face.

  Gradually Akintunde and Akhila regained control. Unshed tears of laughter still moistened Akintunde’s eyes as he struggled to stand. With effort he managed to gain his feet, and then reached down like the little gentlemen he was, and put out a hand. He pulled the smiling Akhila up to her feet, and was surprised to find that she was nearly half a head taller.

  He smiled as she stared at him, a strange intensity in her eyes, then before he was aware of her intentions; she stepped forward and placed her lips directly on his. Shocked, Akintunde tried to pull away, but Akhila’s hand slipped around his neck and held his head firmly in place. He struggled for a moment longer, but then surprisingly surrendered to the girl’s touch.

  Nari smiled at first, and then raised an eyebrow. It was a very mature kiss for a pair of ten year olds and lasted far longer than she expected, but just as she was about to say something the two broke apart, gasping for air, both clearly stunned. Nari gaped, wondering briefly how her son would handle the situation, but before the thought was even fully formed Akintunde reared back and punched Akhila hard in the pit of her stomach.

  Oooooofff!” the girl grunted and then crumpled in pain.

  “Akintunde!” Nari snapped, utterly horrified. She quickly grabbed her son by the arm least he strike the girl again. Akhila however, didn’t give him the chance. She staggered back to her feet, eyes welling with tears, and without a word ran back to her family.

  “Akintunde!” Nari repeated, suddenly terrified for her son. She had no idea how the High Priestess would react to such an attack.

  “Well…” Akintunde answered with confusion, a feeling of delight and horror mixing sourly in his stomach. “She shouldn’t have done that,” he explained defensively, careful not to catch his mother’s eye.

  “Tunde’s got a girlfriend! Tunde’s got a girlfriend!” Eryx chanted and it was now his turn to laugh.

  “And you shouldn’t have struck her!” Nari scolded, ignoring her older son. She grabbed Akintunde by the arm and shook him lightly for emphasis. “You must apologize…apologize this instant,” she commanded and dragged her son from beneath the olive tree and over to where Akhila was softly crying by her mother’s side.

  “Tunde’s got a girlfriend!” Eryx chanted behind them until his mother cast a threatening look his way. Eryx wisely fell silent and immediately began to retrieve fallen olives with renewed haste.

  “Mother,” Akintunde pleaded and tried to weakly pull away, but his mother was still far stronger and marched him easily up to face Akhila and Ilana, her mother and High Priestess of Susa.

  “Akhila,” Nari began and cast a quick, nervous glance at Ilana before turning her entire attention back to the injured girl, “Akintunde has something he wishes to say to you.”

  She paused, but Akintunde just stood mute, eyes burrowing into the dust at his feet. When he didn’t speak Nari nudged him…hard. Akhila, equally embarrassed, was gazing at the very same patch of dirt.

  “I’m…I’m s..”

  “Look at her when you speak,” Nari insisted loudly and the heads of both children jerked up and they shyly looked into each other’s eyes. They stared at one another for several long moments.

  “I’m sorry I hit you,” Akintunde said very softly, his eyes never leaving the girl’s. The two children remained quiet, each transfixed, their gaze almost becoming as personal as the kiss, and then Akhila shrugged.

  “Never mind,” she said simply.

  Nari glanced over at the High Priestess nervously, desperately hoping that her son’s lame apology would be enough. Much to her surprise Ilana was smiling. “Perhaps, to strengthen the apology, Akintunde could come over tomorrow and spend time with Akhila when his work is done,” she suggested and Nari’s heart thumped wildly in her chest.

  ‘An invitation by the High Priestess!’ The family’s reputation would soar.

  “He would very much like that,” Nari replied for her son and pinched him lightly when he tried to speak.

  “Ow,” Akintunde grumbled but said nothing more.

  “He’ll see you tomorrow then,” Nari added, addressing Akhila, and the young girl beamed happily. Then, before Akintunde could say anything to turn their triumph into disaster, Nari spun about and steered her youngest back to the harvest.

  Akintunde went back to work, disgruntled, distracted and dreading the morrow, not realizing that the day would mark the beginning of his life’s strongest friendship.

  ♀

  “Mother, please!” Akintunde begged, hoping for a reprieve. He could normally manipulate his mother if he tried, so he was shocked when she rounded on him, eyes blazing.

  “Akintunde,” she answered her voice low and menacing. She grabbed a handful of his tunic and forced him back against a nearby garden wall. “You will not ruin
this for the family. The High Priestess has graciously invited you into her home…you will be grateful. You will behave yourself; you will do whatever Akhila wants to do…and you will be happy about it! Do you understand me?”

  Akintunde stared up at his mother solemnly, using his sweetest, most vulnerable expression, but her eyes did not soften as they usually did.

  “Yes Mother,” he finally replied meekly and followed along behind her.

  Akhila and her family lived in a single family home near the highest point in the village, where all the wealthiest built their homes. The house was a large, two-story structure, the color of rust. It was, as were all Kadian homes that housed the wealthy, surrounded by a high adobe wall, which was added for both privacy and protection. Though only a bit taller than a man, the wall was a formidable obstacle when manned with archers and slingers. The house and grounds were very imposing, but thankfully Hiral and his family were not included among the underprivileged. Nari was not as intimidated as she might have been had she lived in the lowlands below the village, or worse the Longhouse, where most of the very poor lived, huddling together in squalor.

  Hiral was a good provider and a good hunter, but it was Nari’s talents as a household manager that really allowed the family to prosper. It was through her skill that they’d acquired the third largest herd of goats in the village, and though the animals needed constant care and attention, they were a continuous source of wealth through the year. The herd allowed them to live in their own private house farther down the mountain, and while it was not nearly as grand as the home of the High Priestess, it was still not without merit.

  Nari attempted to calm her nerves as she worked the iron lever on the thick wooden gate. She stepped through the opening, pulling her young son behind her.