Jarrod Ii: The Making of a Master

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

To my daughter ANITA MIDDLETON

She believed in me

CHAPTER 1

The quietness of night settled on the large village near the edge of the forest. A mid-wife sat on the soft grass in front of the largest of the circular, thatch huts dozing on occasion, and then waking with a start, listening intently for any sound coming from within the house. The night had turned cool as the wind began to blow. She pulled a bearskin blanket around her shoulders and continued to sit, and doze.

As the sun began to lighten the dark sky, a loud scream startled the old woman and sent her scurrying into the house. By the time the rest of the villagers learned the child was on the way, and had gathered in front of the house, their tribal leader, Bereek, appeared in the doorway with a broad smile on his face, and loudly proclaimed, It is a boy! We have a fat little baby boy! A loud shout went up from the people, as they waved their arms from side to side. After a few minutes of shouting and arm waving, each person returned to his own hut.

Makeeshla, the chief’s only child, grew strong under the close tutelage of his father and mother. Being the son of the chief, he was taught all things that a future chief should know. Hunting and fishing, counseling, decision making, and even cooking and sewing. Son, you never know when life will lead you on a lonely path, and all that is done will be done by you, his father told him.

Around the community fire, that burned long after the setting of the sun, the child listened to first his mother, Bayma, then an uncle or cousin tell fascinating stories of their ancestors. Although the stories were basically the same, the details changed with the storyteller. He wondered if great-grandfather was just a tall man, or a giant, and the wild animals he encountered got wilder with each retelling of the story. The berries that Makeeshla loved so much used to be twice as large in grandfather’s day, or was that four times as large.

There were stories that puzzled the young boy even more than the size of the berries or the height of the male ancestors. In some of the huts, there were strange carvings and pictures along the walls. One that seemed particularly odd was a drawing of –— boats, or some things that there were no words to adequately describe. It was a long, long time ago that the visitors came, an old man told Makeeshla. "They said they lived on one of the lights that we see in the night sky. The only way they could get here was in those flying boats.

Makeeshla thought for a moment. Why did they come here? What did they want?

The old man scratched his head and looked at the drawing on the wall of his hut. You know, I really wonder about that myself. When I was a young boy, my father used to talk about them a lot. He said they were looking out for us and someday they will come back to visit. Well, I’m an old, old man and I haven’t seen them. I really wonder.

The drawings were very old and had been passed down from one generation to another. No one knew of their origin, or exactly what they represented, but they had been around so long that they were now a part of the lives of the villagers. Speculating on their meaning was a favorite pastime for some of the young people.

Makeeshla was a curious child who questioned everything. Every aspect of life, as he knew it, held great fascination for the eight year old. He found his people most interesting. The men were so tall and muscular with thick ringlets of hair and most had light brown or gray eyes. Woven leaves made comfortable and colorful clothing for the

hot days of summer, and furs from the wild beasts that roamed the surrounding woods supplied adequate warmth for the long winter months. Bereek’s winter furs were all white. Makeeshla thought he looked better than any man he had ever seen. I’m going to be just like father one of these days, he told his mother. I hope it won’t take too long, though. My arms are getting bigger, He made a fist and extended his arm in an attempt to make a muscle appear.

Bayma smiled as she chopped some roots to cook for the evening meal. Don’t be in too big a rush to grow, son. You will be like your father soon enough. Enjoy being a child for now. When you get big you cannot become a child ever again, so enjoy being a child for as long as you can. Besides, I wish you could stay my cute little boy forever. She poured water into the stewing pot that sat on large rocks on an open fire in the back of the hut. The water pots are getting low. Why don’t you go fill a few of them for me? Take the small pots. Your father and the other men will return from the hunt soon. We will need a lot more water. Will you do that for me? " She picked up two small clay pots and gave them to her son.

Sure, mother, I can get a lot of water. I’m strong enough to bring back many pots of water. I’ll show you! He took the pots and rushed off toward the stream. Bayma laughed to herself as she watched the boy run across the field to the water source.

In a very short time he returned, laboring to get the two pots of water into the house. Bayma’s first thought was to help him, but she thought better of it. He wants so much to be big and strong, I won’t interfere. She continued kneading the meal for the flat bread, pretending not to see Makeeshla’s struggles.

"There, mother, I got the water and I can get more, if you want me to. He sat on a mat on the floor long enough to catch his breath.

Oh, that’s my big boy. I think that will be enough for now. If you want, you can get one more, after you rest.

I don’t need to rest. I’ll go now, he said, jumping up from the floor, and grabbing another pot.

All right, but take your time. You don’t need to rush so fast. I know how strong you are, and you are a very good helper. Just go a little slower this time. All right? She spoke gently to her son, and he responded with a big hug, then again left for the stream.

A few minutes later, there was a flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder that startled and frightened Bayma. There were no storm clouds in the sky, and this was not the season for thunder. Several of the village women came to the hut of the chief to discuss the strange occurrence. One of the women, Minna, saw Makeeshla slowly making his way toward home and ran to assist him. He might get hit by the light from the sky. He must get inside, fast! she said to Bayma just before dashing off.

Another clap of thunder sounded and the sky began to darken before its time. The hunt was shortened, and the men rushed home to protect their families. Only a few animals had been speared, or captured in nets, but their families were of first importance. With a third bone-shattering sound of thunder, the sky opened up and poured out a torrent of rain, sending animals and people scurrying for shelter.

The water continued to pour from the darkened sky all day and into a long, dark night. As was their custom whenever danger appeared, most of the villagers gathered together within the large, sturdy hut of their leader, Chief Bereek. What does this mean? Bayma whispered to her husband. Have we caused the sky to be angry? What can we do to stop this rising water? She huddled on the floor near Bereek, who had seated himself on the Chief’s chair, a high seat that elevated him above everything and everyone in the hut. Makeeshla sat very still, close to his mother and her brother, waiting for his father to answer his mother’s questions.

We have done nothing to displease our brother, the sky, he began. Perhaps he is merely trying to get more attention. Only a few times, since my life began, has he sent rain out of season, but he has never caused real harm to come to this people. When I was nearing manhood, this kind of thing happened. It rained for three days and three nights, and then brother sky showed us his smiling, bright face and all the land became dry again. The crops were bigger than ever that season, and we knew he was only helping us to prosper with the heavy rain. We will wait and keep quiet. The land spirits will handle as much of the water as possible. Do not fear, my brothers and sisters, we will get through this.

How can you say we will get through this? Look! The rising water has entered most of our huts. Your hut sits high enough to be protected, but our homes will be washed away. What can we do, Bereek? There is no place to hide.

Please, Essa, do not panic! Bereek said firmly. None of us knows exactly what to do in times like this, but nothing is gained, or changed by getting upset. Our lives are not yet in danger. There is still plenty dried meat and fruit in the urns, and we are still together. We can be thankful for that. I would suggest we all sit still, each family together. Perhaps we will hear from brother sky what he wants from us. Please, let us keep silent. Hold the babies to keep them from crying as long as possible.

For hours the group of sixty men, women and children sat in silence. Water was beginning to seep into their shelter. Father, are we going to die? Makeeshla asked. Without saying a word, Bereek leaned over and picked up the sleepy, frightened child. He held him close to his chest, but did not answer. Water now covered the floor.

Just as morning approached, Bookabe began to laugh out loud. I hear them, he told the anxious group. Can’t you hear that sound in the distance? They are coming for us! He waded through water that was knee-deep to look out of the front door.

Essa followed him. Old Bookabe has lost his power to think clearly. He knows we are doomed, but will not face that fact. He dreams up our rescue. He has looked at those crazy drawings on his walls too long. I hear nothing but thunder and rain, only the thunder and rain. Do any of you hear help coming? he said mockingly.

They get closer now. Sky is sending us his flying ships, Bookabe insisted.

Every head in the crowded house was turned upward, not believing, but still hoping someone, anyone was coming. Suddenly, Bereek jumped to the floor and exclaimed in a loud voice, I do hear a strange sound. Listen!

What is it? Bayma asked with a fearful tone in her voice. What is it?"

The sky was becoming lighter, and now the strange, loud sound was directly above the wonder-struck people. The rain continued and strong currents of water rushed past the house. Bereek and old Bookabe leaned out of the front door as far as possible in hopes of seeing the source of the noise above them. Three huge crafts hovered above the swiftly deteriorating roof. Wheels atop the crafts whirled wildly. Bereek was almost speechless when he returned to his people. I don’t know what to make of them. They look almost as large as this house, yet they stand in the air.

I tell you, again, they are the flying ships that the ancestors talked about and drew pictures of, Bookabe said excitedly. They will save us! I know they will save us. As he said this the roof of the house collapsed and screams of terror blended with thunder and the strange noise of the hovering flying ships.

A ladder was lowered from the craft closest to the hut. A loud voice instructed the people to climb up to the craft. And what was up there in that strange thing? If they were to ascend the unstable looking ladder, what awaited them? No one was quick to venture out of the hut, but the rapid increase of water, and the downed roof gave them little choice but to conquer the fear and take hold of the ladder. Old Bookabe’s mixed emotions were quite apparent. He grabbed hold, and then let go, several times.

Bereek shouted for Makeeshla and the other children to go first. I will come after all of you are safe. Hurry, hurry now! They may leave us, if we don’t hurry, and then we will surely die. Slowly, the children, some in tears, began to ascend. Bayma, please come. You must go with the children. Come on, all my sisters. There is no time to lose.

The first craft moved away after the children and the women entered. The ladder disappeared inside. They left us! Essa shouted.

No, no. I don’t think so, Bereek assured him.

Just then another voice sounded through the air. I am sending another ladder down. I can take ten people. If anyone is left, the next plane will get you. The second craft moved into position one hundred yards above the men who stood in chest-high water with all manner of rubbish, which several hours ago was a valuable part of a home, floating about them. Their faces, cast in wonderment, turned up to face the rain, the source of their destruction, and the mysterious crafts, the source of their salvation.

Old Bookabe grabbed the ladder first, his bones shaking with fear and excitement. I don’t know where I’m going, but here I go! He laughed nervously as he took the first step. Bayma’s brother Zakeema followed, then eight others. When the tenth man disappeared inside the craft’s door, the ladder was drawn upward, and it too disappeared, while the craft moved away to follow the first.

Do you think we’ll be left behind, Bereek? Essa asked humbly. He, his leader and six others waited, daring not to think of being the only ones left to face the flood. Bereek looked at his tribal brother and wondered why he was still filled with such doubt. The noise of the third craft removed the need for an answer. Each man slowly climbed

the third ladder, Bereek bringing up the rear. Before stepping inside the door of the craft, he looked down at what had been his beautiful home for forty-two years, and somehow knew this place would never be his home again. In the fashion of his forefathers in times of grief, he threw back his head and howled, as does the wild wolf, and allowed tears to flow freely.

The men huddled together in dry blankets that had been left for them in the nearly empty room. Few words were spoken. On occasion, Bereek would encourage the men not to fear, while he trembled within, wondering where they were going, and whether his wife and son were being cared for, and what would become of them all.

In a short time that seemed like an eternity the craft slowed considerably. Small windows, with some kind of clear covering which the men had never seen, were all along both sides of the gray room. The men had not dared move away from their huddle on the floor until now. Curiosity became stronger than their fear and one by one they peered out of the little, round windows.

Oh, oh, look at that thing! Essa shouted, pointing at the object ahead of them. What could it be? It is as big as our entire village and most of the trees around it. We are going toward it!

Bereek and the other six men all gazed in astonishment at the enormous mother ship that appeared before them with what looked like an open mouth at one end. Gradually, they approached the ship. No one spoke. Ozee closed his eyes, not wanting to see the time of his death. Bereek took a deep breath and said to himself, Be brave.

With no more than a slight thump, they had landed inside the silver monster. The door opened without assistance, and someone within the brightly lit cavity asked them to come out. Bereek, still wrapped in his blanket, emerged first, cautiously examining every inch of the room with his eyes. The first two crafts stood beside the third, but their passengers were not seen. Instead, two men dressed in black, with golden hair and friendly smiles, motioned for the men to follow them.

They may be the demons some of our people believe in, Essa whispered to Bereek.

Demons don’t rescue dying people or fly through the air in ships like these, Bereek whispered back.

Down a long corridor and up one flight of stairs they went, passing more of the golden-haired, black clad men. A wide, white door slid open as they approached it, and there in a room with bright colors and trees standing in large, decorated pots were their friends and families. Bayma and Makeeshla ran to Bereek and held him tighter than ever before.

Bookabe beamed with excitement, but most of the villagers were simply bewildered. Who are these people who rescued them and how could they live in the sky, were among the many rhetorical questions they asked each other. Will we live up here the rest our lives? Bayma inquired. No questions were answered, but verbalizing them seemed to help.

The white door slid open and six men walked into the room. One very tall fellow was dressed different from the others and appeared to be in charge. Standing at the far end of the large room, opposite the door, he lifted his arms and waited until he had everyone’s attention.

Welcome all of you, he began. Do not be fearful. You are perfectly safe now. I am called Naymon. I am captain of the ship. I am like a chief to my people. We do not always live on this vessel. We have homes and families like you. But we spend part of our time looking out for people who need help on different worlds. Naymon saw the puzzled looks on the faces of his guests. He continued. I know this is all very confusing to you, and you have many questions you would like me to answer. I will answer every one, later, but for now, I want you to get more comfortable and see more of this temporary home. The men here with me will take you to your quarters –– that means a place where you can bathe yourself, sleep, and have your meals, if you wish. Each family will be kept together and the rest of you, without families, will be in rooms near by. We have clothing for each of you and our cooks will cook the kind of food you like best. Now, would the families please go with Shawn and Theo over on my right? He pointed toward the two men and motioned for the family groups to follow them. The rest of you go with Damar and Ellis. They will help you to get as comfortable as possible. I’ll be around to talk with you again, later.

Makeeshla, holding tightly to Bereek’s strong hand, hesitated at the door. Turning fully around, he just stood and stared at Captain Naymon for a long moment. The captain stood completely immobile, legs apart, and arms crossing his chest. How strange he looks, the child thought to himself. The small, tan cap on his head and his