Unbreakable Bonds: Baruch and Balthamos
By: Ceriadara
Before Lyra and Will, before Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter, before that deepening betrayal and blackness of infinte death, there was a man and an angel...
Baruch raised a tanned hand to shield his eyes from the sun as they wandered across the desert landscape. As his hazel orbs scanned the landscape surrounding the oasis – golden sand, rippling, powerful dunes – he kept an ear open for the sheep and the laughter of his brothers.
"Oy, Baruch!"
He turned to see his eldest brother, Enoch, smiling at him and waving him towards the circle of his half-brothers, borne by other women and his father. He returned the wave with a half-hearted smile and made his way to the group, loath though he was to do so. He had no soft spot for Enoch.
"Yes?" he asked as he arrived there. With a wave of his hand, Enoch gestured for him to sit beside him.
"You're far too tense, Baruch. You needn't always be on guard. The worst that could happen to the sheep here is that they'd choke on the sand." Chuckles ran around the circle as Baruch flushed at his brother's words.
"True as that may be, I still wouldn't wish it."
Enoch shook his head in mock-sadness. "As you will, Baruch."
"Is that all you wanted, Enoch?"
The latter shook his head, light brown locks dancing. "Not exactly, brother. You see, just over the horizon on the far side to the east, there lies a small village. Not famous or notorious for any reason – except for the women."
Here Baruch finally saw fit to roll his eyes, knowing well what his brother intended. "Make your way to the brothels if you all see fit."
"Come now, Baruch, you come with us this time!" urged his second-eldest brother, Lamos, grinning wickedly. "You're man enough, aren't you?"
Baruch shook his head furiously, praying his tanned cheeks would conceal his blush. Enoch chuckled and patted him on the back. "No, no, Baruch insists that he doesn't come. He doesn't know what he's missing, but if he'd rather tend sheep, that's his business."
The others rose as one amid a swarm of laughter and somehow gravitated towards the far side of the oasis.
"We'll be back after dawn tomorrow, Baruch!" called Enoch over his shoulder with a jovial wave.
Baruch sighed, glad to finally be alone – Well, mostly, he thought with a wry smile as one of the sheep bumped its matted, coarse, hairy head against his shoulder gently. He patted it, turning it aside and towards its brothers and sisters still feasting on the water and grass to be found.
He sighed, standing, pushing his crook into the sand for the time being. He stripped the heavy dark brown robes, the coarse fabric familiar against his tanned olive skin. He left them on a rock beside the lake of blue water and gently slid himself in.
He shivered as he submerged the lower half of his body in, and then, taking as deep a breath as he could, he dove deep into the spring, the water rushing past his body in a familiar, embracing way.
He resurfaced some moments later, gasping for air, throwing wavy, now-black locks out of his eyes. He tucked a particularly long strand behind one ear and treaded water for a few moments before swimming out to a shallower area. He sat on the gold sand, showing clearly through the blue water, the shadow of the palm trees dancing on the surface. Another sheep came up behind him and rubbed its coarse head on his back and he laughed, pushing it gently away.
He got out of the water, the clear liquid running down bronze skin in tiny rivers, and picked up his heavy robes and flung them into the water. He let them sink for a few moments before leaping back in after them, a laugh falling from his mouth just before he hit the water.
He surfaced, throwing his head back, tossing dripping hair out of his face. He brought his now-black robes into the sun, ringing them out and, getting out, he laid them to dry on the rock beside the blue, clear spring.
He set on the rock himself, ignoring the burning of the stone onto his bare skin, and dangled his feet above the water, just allowing his toes to drag across the smooth surface, creating eddies and ridges, ripples going farther and farther out until they fell into nothing.
He continued this for a while, lost deep in the recesses of his thoughts, until the sound of the first cricket chirping brought him back to earth. He gazed up at the now-darkening sky and felt his robes with one hand. They were now both warm and dry, which would most certainly help tonight. It was going to be a cold one, he could feel it. Today had been a hot day, after all.
He slid into the robes, lifting the headpiece so that it covered his ears, the brown fabric hanging into his eyes. He stood and sat down by his shepherd's crook, still in the sand where he had left it, and counted the sheep. Once he was satisfied that the herd was whole, he allowed himself to lean back against the palm tree behind him and let his eyelids droop down over hazel eyes…
Just a little rest…
Baruch's eyes snapped open as they were hit with dazzling noontime sun. He gazed blearily around, looking for his brothers before realizing that they were probably still in the village. He stood, stretching, and glanced around for the sheep.
He dropped his crook in shock.
Where were the sheep?
Why, oh why didn't he fence in the oasis with a rope last night!
He pulled down the head piece of his robes, casting it on the ground carelessly, running around the oasis in circles frantically, crook in hand, looking for the sheep.
He came to rest on the rock where he had sat last night and sighed. It was no use. The biggest lead he had was a single track leading westward, away from the oasis…and the town with his brothers.
Brothers…or sheep?
Definitely sheep.
Baruch took another gulp of cool water from his water skin. Letting it fall back to his hip, he glanced around him, headpiece back in place, shading his eyes from the sun. He shifted his wooden crook from hand to hand, wiping his sweaty palms on his robes.
He had been out here for what felt like an age, with no sign of the sheep. He wasn't even sure which way to go to get to the oasis anymore, and worse yet he was running out of water. Damn his brothers and damn those sheep of his father's! And damn him for falling asleep.
How could he just do that? The sheep were the things his family lived off of – his brothers and he raised the sheep, his sisters and stepmothers and nieces (his own mother having died long ago) used the wool for clothing and tents and rugs, and his father and uncles and cousins and nephews used the bones for weapons.
They were going to kill him for this!
How many times now had he sent a prayer to Yahweh? A hundred? A thousand? All he wanted was help, just a small piece of luck, anything to help him get the sheep…and what did he get? Nothing.
Suddenly, a shadow, large, menacing, and cold, loomed into his line of sight. He glanced up and saw a towering, forbidding cliff. "Mirage?" he asked out loud, usually musical voice hoarse and harsh.
He made his way towards it, sighing in relief when the cliff did not dissipate and take the blessed shade with it. He collapsed against it…how could he not have noticed this before?
Ignoring that question, he heaved himself up again and began to look around the cliff for a cave or a nook of some sort suitable to spend the night in. In the oasis, the trees provided some shelter from the sudden sandstorms. Out here, nothing was there to protect him from the violent, colorful temper of the desert.
His fingers ran against the rough, perforated walls, eyes now closed, only his digits seeking out an opening.
After walking for nearly a quarter of an hour in a fruitless search, he opened his eyes again. He would just have to do with curling up against the cliff.
He laid himself down on the burning golden sand, burying his crook almost halfway into the surface, and closed his eyes. He would continue his search by night, when the day has cooled and his head, perhaps, would have cleared.
He certainly wasn't thinking clearly now.
He awoke what felt like only a moment later, but judging by the sky was over five hours. Night was quickly claiming the cerulean sky, turning it to indigo and a bleeding red-gold near the horizon. He stood, shaking the sand out of his robes and hair, and picked his crook up out of the sand. He adjusted his headpiece and narrowed his hazel eyes as he scanned the landscape for any sign at all of the sheep.
Sighing when he did not find them, he took a better grip on his crook and started forward into the vast sandy wilderness.
Wind whipped burning sheets of sand into his eyes and what little showing skin he had, causing him to throw up his arms before his face. He could feel the chill setting into the air around him already. Amplified by the wind, it was slowly seeping through the robes and into his skin.
After walking for almost half an hour, the cold getting more penetrating and the wind harsher, he sank to his knees onto the sand, cowering down, face beneath his arms. His throat was dry, and he was painfully aware of the empty water skin at his side. His stomach ached steadily, throbbing.
He clutched it tightly as a tendril of white-hot pain raced through it. He tried to think back to the last time he had eaten…yesterday? Day before yesterday? He didn't remember anymore.
His head spun, and a raspy breath worked its way out of his dry throat. His face was burning, tremors running up and down the length of his body…
He let himself go, allowing his torso to fall forwards towards the wind-blown sand, waiting for the impact and the incredible heated suffocation that came with the desert ground…
But it never came.
Instead, he felt a pair of strong, slim arms wrap themselves around him, a cool, light touch that felt alien but…right…
He felt himself pulled back against something hard and firm, cool as a breeze in an oasis. He allowed his vision to spin into nothingness, feeling safe in the gentle arms.
A/N So? How was it? Did you like it? Too many questions? Review and I'll stop.