Winter, 2732 BC, Midday, Mesopotamia
Shem's right shoulder pounded itself into the soft soil of the sparring grounds, with his torso, hips and legs following in swift succession. He'd been training rigorously over the past month since being cleared by the healers, in order to recapture the strength and endurance he'd lost due to his injury and long convalescence. Despite his unflagging will, it still remained slow going. His left shoulder, bearing a jagged and raised six-inch scar, ached terribly and hadn't yet regained its former strength.
Which meant that he often was bested by his faithful sparring partner, Jared.
Which meant that he often sustained cuts, bruises and sprains in the course of his training.
Which meant that he often reported to Healing House, on the average of three times a week.
Which meant that he often saw the young Seer, Na'amah.
Which meant that, thus far, his plan was working perfectly.
On Shem's third visit, Na'amah had caught on. On his fourth visit, she'd just stood in the corner of the room and glared at him the whole time, with hands on hips; refusing to even take part in his ministrations. On the fifth visit, she'd grinned sheepishly when she saw Shem hobbling in the doorway and quickly turned her back before being seen. But, by the sixth visit Na'amah had at first, reluctantly, then dutifully taken on the task of bandaging his wounds personally; not even minding the small scraps of conversation they shared.
Much to Shem's pleasure, on the seventh visit Na'amah had actually greeted him at the doorway with light-hearted, mock formality:
"And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company this day, O Shem, young and valiant apprentice of the Hakkanah?"
"You're the seer, my lady, pray tell!" replied the limping young man, holding her gaze with a confident half-smile that would have been impossible for him to endure just a few short weeks ago.
With his bold, yet sincere, strategy for beginning a relationship with Na'amah working out so well, Shem had finally decided to abandon all pretense and feelings of intimidation as far as the girl was concerned. If the Ancient's blessings favored the bold, then he was not going to be found wanting in forthrightness.
From that day forward, their conversations ranged far and wide during Shem's never-ending Healing House visits; though Shem did most of the asking. The weather, the harvest, Shem's health and, eventually, more personal questions concerning Na'amah's hopes, fears and dreams became common grist for the conversation mill. With each new visit, Na'amah surprised Shem as she opened up more and more to his questions about her future hopes and present fears. He didn't fail to notice, however, that her dreams continued to remain the exclusive property of the Ancient and herself alone.
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Six weeks out from Shem's death-defying ordeal, Na'amah found herself snuggly tucked into her coverings of animal skins, lying on her soft straw pallet in the Seer's hut that she shared with three of her fellow acolytes. After ending her day in silent prayer and thanksgiving, Na'amah had lain quietly in the darkness of her hut and silently listened to the winter winds moan softly outside as she released herself to the blessed bliss of slumber.
That is until, through heavily-lidded eyes, she noticed a small hole forming in the thatched roof above her that widened quickly as small fragments of straw fell from the roof onto her coverings. Two stars shown brilliantly in the night sky for one brief moment before the vacancy was filled with a silent and shadowy figure who dropped onto the dirt floor next to Na'amah's mat and soundlessly sat cross-legged, just inches away from her head.
The shadow whispered urgently, "Don't make a sound! It's just me, Na'amah!"
Not a soul stirred in the small, one-roomed hut; though a slight coolness began to seep into the room due to Shem's makeshift entrance.
"What are you doing here!" whispered Na'amah with startled incredulity. "You know you can't be in here! Eliazah would skin me alive if she found a man in our sleeping chamber!"
She made to go on, but Shem gently raised his calloused finger to her lips.
"Shhhhh. Then come with me."
Na'amah could hear his grin, even without seeing it.
"I can't! You know it's forbidden!" scolded Na'amah, pulling his hand away; both peeved and strangely excited at the unexpected intrusion.
"Forbidden?" chuckled Shem, quietly. "So is having a man in a female Watcher's bedroom; so, what's it going to be? Me found in here or you found out there?"
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"Shem, leave!" she pleaded.
"Sorry, but I'm not going anywhere without you," replied Shem in a tone that reminded Na'amah of one of her stubborn younger brothers.
"Get out!" she begged once again the words sounding like more pout than threat, this time. "You're impossible! There's no way I'm leaving with you!
I'm a ..."
Shem stood and began stretching out his arms over his head, emitting an audible, mock yawn.
This time, it was Na'amah's turn to leap off of her pallet and reach up a hand, quickly, in order to stifle the sound coming from Shem's mouth. "Alright! Stop it!" hissed Na'amah, looking around to verify that her roommates were still sleeping. "Please, don't let me get caught with you in here!" she said with her hand clamped over Shem's mouth as she looked pleadingly into his eyes, now only inches away.
"Then come with me," Shem's muffled voice mumbled between her fingers.
"How?"
"This way," said Shem, beginning to tip-toe around the other girls' mats as he made his way toward the door.
"I can't!"
"You can!"
"Shem!"
He reached back to take her hand and this time, she didn't resist. Letting herself be gently pulled along after him, Na'amah followed Shem as he, quietly, opened the door, pulled her quickly through and crept silently out into the cool night air.
Having heard the door close quietly behind the two fugitives, Na'amah's three roommates lifted their heads, looked at one another, then giggled softly before laying back down on their mats and returning to their feigned slumber.
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"Spiders," said Na'amah. "I'm terribly afraid of spiders and thank you, so much, for asking Shem! Can't you think of anything more pleasant to talk about on the very first night of my life that I've broken a rule?"
Na'amah smiled and nudged him with her shoulder as she said the words. Wrapped in Shem's outer garment of skins, she still shivered slightly in the evening chill as they both looked out over the village from their perch on the hillside just north of the School of Seers and only yards outside the boundary of the towering forest.
"Sorry," replied Shem with a grin. "My plan went only as far as getting you out of your hut. I didn't take the time to plan any intelligent, thought provoking questions for when we were out of the village."
They sat silently in each other's company for a few moments; taking in the glorious night sky above them and the humble panorama of the only home that they had ever known as it sat bathed in the light of the half-moon.
"So, what is the brave, young, apprentice of the Hakkanah afraid of?" said Na'amah teasingly, breaking the silence. "Or, do they remove all traces of fear from you during your training?"
Shem was silent for several moments. In the awkward quiet that ensued, Na'amah began to feel that she'd touched upon a subject that was best left alone.
"Them," he said, finally.
She let a few more moments pass before gently repeating, "Them?"
"You know," answered Shem.
It was Na'amah's turn to be silent this time before she answered softly, "I do know, but I try not to think about it much."
Na'amah pulled her knees up to her chin. She knew that Shem was referring to the beast he had encountered several weeks ago and she silently chided herself for letting the conversation take such an unpleasant turn.
"What do you know of them," asked Shem, quietly.
Na'amah shivered again, this time not from the cold.
"From my earliest childhood, my elders have been telling me not to stray from the village."
She paused for a moment and took a deep breath before going on. "I mean, they always told me what the Ben Cana did to girls who ..."
Na'amah trailed off and the silence returned.
"You don't have to talk about it, Na'amah," interrupted Japheth. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
More silence ensued before Na'amah spoke in a soft voice, barely above a whisper.
"You know that it can't be, Shem."
Shem just sat silently, having known that this moment would come. He desperately tried to think of something, of anything, to say that would convince Na'amah that their worlds didn't have to be separate.
"Is that what you want," he asked softly.
"What want is not important," she answered, looking down.
Na'amah's mind was awhirl. She couldn't interpret either her feelings or the will of the Ancient concerning the brash, impetuous warrior-to-be sitting next to her. She belonged to the Ancient. It had never occurred to her, until very recently, that there was room in her heart for any other.
"What you want is , Na'amah."
"Shem," she said, turning to look into his eyes.
He held her gaze, even now marveling how the moonlight danced in her eyes.
"How can you say that?" responded Na'amah softly, but intensely. "You know that I was given a gift for a purpose, just as you were. Would you abandon your ability to use to protect the ones that you love, just for a dream?"
"I would," replied Shem, continuing to look into her eyes, "if you were in that dream."
"You don't even know me Japheth," said Na'amah, looking away.
He paused for a moment, then reached out to take her hand.
"I know my heart, Na'amah and it speaks clearly. Tell me that yours does the same?"
Na'amah could feel her own heart beating rapidly. This boy was opening doors within her that she didn't even know existed. All of this was happening too fast.
"My heart is confused, Shem. I have never known ..." she trailed off.
After a moment's silence, Shem asked, "Known what, Na'amah?"
She lifted her head to return his gaze, "Known what it feels like to be ..." Na'amah hesitated.
"To be?" continued Shem.
"Shem please," said Na'amah, looking away once more.
"Na'amah," whispered Shem softly as he reached out to take hold of her chin and gently turned her face back in the direction of his own.
His eyes widened, suddenly.
"Na'amah!"
This time, the name was said with a shout as Shem reached up to grab the sword arm of the Ben Cana warrior who had crept up silently behind them, catching it in mid-swing and halting the killing blow that would have ended his life swiftly.
The warrior righted himself and planted a well-aimed kick into Shem's sternum, sending him reeling, head over heels, down the grassy hillside.
Shem regained control of his momentum and brought himself to a skidding halt. Looking back up the hillside, he was shocked to see hundreds of Ben Cana warriors pouring from the cover of the forest and bearing down upon his village.
was the first word to enter Shem's confused mind.
Na'amah's name was a close second as he looked back up the hill to see the first Ben Cana warrior scoop her up off of the ground, sling her over his shoulder and race for the cover of the dark forest.
