Fury is Born (Book 1 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 18

          "Another war?" Father demanded. "And what's this nonsense about the Nadir?"

         Father had returned just in time for the carnage to come. Only days before the great coalition of tribes known as the confederates laid siege to Yathrib.

         "I told you, Ka'b," Dawood chided him wistfully. "I told you it was a foul idea inviting this foul man and his foul religion. Why did we need a false god to usher in peace? Have we forsaken our own faith so?"

          Dawood and Father were sitting at the center of our cramped shack, legs folded as they sipped juice and wolfed down the lamb my brother and I served them. Ezra flanked me to one side as we stood hovering over the feasting men in a show of respect. My mother made up my other side, blearily cradling Dawood's insufferable five-year-old. She was bawling into Mother's chest.

         "Perhaps," started my father before trailing off briefly. "Perhaps it is time to put an end to this."

          Father leaned in to speak into my uncle's ear conspiratorially. I strained to listen in to their conversation but could not make out the words. I felt Ezra tense at my side. Dawood only nodded in agreement, chewing all the while.

         I found myself yearning to be away from this damned shack for the thousandth time in my two-year exile. I was ten, but like my brother, I was of a powerful build, blessed with strong, tall legs that made me look older than my years. And I had the training to go with it. I was more than capable of holding my own in this siege, I knew. To redeem myself for the shame and weakness of Uhud.

         "We should fight," the words tumbled out of my mouth, unrestricted. "We should attack the Muslims from within. Take them by surprise!"

        My brother, uncle and father raised their heads, fixing their gazes of disdain at me. I don't think they even listened to a word I said. There was a brief pause before Father spoke.

        "It is wise for a fish to shut its mouth, lest it risk poaching," he pursed his lips in irritation and turned back to Dawood.

         "What if someone uses a net?"

        I immediately regretted speaking as Father's eyes flared and smashed his wooden bowl against the wall of the shack. Mother let out a high yelp as Father found his feet and strode toward me. I felt the rage demanding release as I glimpsed a sparkle of triumph in Dawood's eyes.

        Father raised an outstretched palm and smacked me across the cheek, sending me sprawling on the ground. My mother wailed, begging him to show mercy, but Dawood's words of encouragement drowned out her pleas. I felt blood well from my lips. I ground my teeth, shaking with fury.

        I wiped the blood away and found my feet. I stood defiant before Father.

        "I can do this all day," I braced myself for the inevitable repercussion.

        My father growled, his brow creasing.

        "Disrespectful little turd."

         And he raised his hand again.

        I clutched my bow close to chest as I spirited myself out of my family shack, tiptoeing carefully lest I be caught. My right hand was ready to snatch an arrow out of the quiver that hung on my back at any moment.

        The sound of crickets and the panting of stray dogs filled the night. It was a moment most tranquil and serene. For a moment, I was lost in peaceful thoughts.