Making Tobia

Making Tobia

  A Desolate Incubus Novella

  by Sherri Jordan-Asble

  Copyright © 2013 Sherri Jordan-Asble & Rubican Fiction

  Blue Eyed Dreams, LLC

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Part 1

  Part 2

  About Sherri Jordan-Asble

  Connect with Sherri Jordan-Asble

  MAKING TOBIA

  Part 1

  Tobia’s mother found him in the high field early that day. The sun had not yet set and it cast long shadows across the field. The sheep continually bleating their protest into the evening sky, as he pushed them along. His mother insisted he go with the men. She would drive the sheep in herself. It was a long, lonely walk that Tobia normally wouldn't look forward to, but today was different. He was going to celebrate his new manhood. Today he became a man, and the men sat around a small feast of lamb and dark rich ale, waiting for him to justify their celebration.

  That night he drank ale with his father and older brother and laughed at their good-humored teasing. All the men of his father’s tribe congratulated him.

  “Son, my son,” his father bellowed. The man stood six feet tall and had muscular arms and a strong frame like an ox. Red hair covered his face and head and arms. All the men present became silent as the great man stood over the open fire and began his speech. “You are a man today. You have passed all the tests to become a man. You follow your brother’s footsteps, and you follow mine. Tonight, I present you with this sword. A great weapon for a man that will also be great.”

  All the men cheered as his father pulled a great sword from behind his back, a real sword that had been pounded out of strong metal. His father had probably worked on it himself for many years. Along the blade delicate etchings had been embedded. The firelight sparkled off of it. He could hardly believe it would be his own. The thick ale had gone to his head and the fires all seemed to blur. It felt like an incredible dream. The smell of roast lamb perfumed the air and off in the distance insects called their homage to the fires. The stars overhead twinkled just for him on his great day.

  His father placed the sword in his hand. The handle felt good and right. The weight of the weapon was heavy, but not too heavy. The men began to sing and chant, “Tobia, Tobia.” The night air tingled against his face, and Tobia raised his sword over his head and swung it around as he danced around the fire. The soft sand under foot gave way and the dust flew into the air. If it all proved a dream, it did not matter. Nothing else mattered. He was now a man. He could now choose a mate and begin a life away from his parents as his brother did before him.

  He did not remember how he had returned to his earthen home. He woke the next morning in his regular sleeping area. He could smell the earth and knew that it was good. His head ached as if a donkey had kicked him there, but the stones beneath him felt refreshingly cold on his skin. He was thankful that his mother let him sleep late, but he got up and returned to the field soon enough with the sun beating down on his back. Their sheep grazed the fields and needed to be accounted for, especially if some of them were to be his.

  His mother kissed him on the forehead when he arrived. “My little man,” she said. “Bring the sheep in early. You will need free time if you are to find a mate, ‘ey?” She winked at her son, knowingly. Tobia continued to blush even as his mother walked off toward home.

  This was his life. He had never really thought much about it before, as a child you did not think so much about how you would live once you were a man, but this was it. Soon, he would take a wife and build a house. His wife would help him tend the sheep and he would give her many children. Then there would be nights that he met with other men and they would drink thick ale until all hours of the night, and then he would wonder how he got home in the morning. In his youth he thought there might be more to it all.

  As the sun slowly set, he continued on until the darkness encroached to the point he could hardly see.

  "Tobia, come on. It's late," his mother called.

  "I had a late start."

  "I told you to come early. You cannot even see. Let's go."

  Reluctantly he followed his mother. He walked on through the fields driving the sheep before him back toward the house he shared with his parents. The sheep continually bleated their protest even as they obeyed.

  As he urged the flock on, he felt a strange sensation that he was being watched. He looked up to see a strange man standing a few yards away. Tobia raised his hand to acknowledge the visitor, a tall man with long dark, wavy hair, and he stood motionless in the distance. Tobia looked to his mother who was far ahead. Then he looked over at the man again. He was a dark figure barely seen in the dark.

  He could not move or take his eyes from the stranger. A paralyzing fear came over him, but his body was no longer under his control. His arms and legs felt as if they weighed a ton and he felt exhausted.

  The stranger closed the distance between them impossibly quick, and in seconds Tobia was staring into dark eyes that loomed only inches from his own. He could feel the man's hot breath on his face. He wanted to run and scream for his mother. His terror and fascination held him, and he no longer felt like a man, but rather like a small child suffering through a nightmare. He wanted to run to his mother, but there was nothing else left in the world except this dangerous man and the depth of his eyes.

  "Tobia. I saw you with the other men last night,” he said. His voice was soft and deep, almost lyrical. The way he formed his words sounded much different from all the people Tobia knew.

  Odd images came into his thoughts as he stared at this man. Images of the sun and the moon and a vast ocean of water lapping softly against a small boat filled his mind. He knew the man was from far away places that he could never imagine.

  The man chuckled. "Yes," he said. "I see I was not wrong about you."

  Tobia could hear his soft chuckle as the darkness slowly closed in on him. He briefly wondered if his family would miss him, just before he fell off into sleep. Vaguely he could remember his mother ducking into their home. He could see the familiar structure of rocks, slated together and built into the side of the green, earthen hill. He silently said good-bye to his home.

  Tobia slowly opened his eyes, but the darkness covered him. He shifted around just a few inches, but his movements were restricted. He reached out and felt walls trapping him. It must be some kind of box.

  "Let me out," he yelled. Tobia pounded on the walls of his prison as best he could. No response. "Come on. Hey, let me out." His breath became heavy as he started to panic. His body twisted and turned. He pushed on the wall in front of him, hoping it would open. A pounding began in his ears, the drums beating time with his racing heart and echoing through his head. "I cannot breathe in here, come on," he sobbed.

  He waited and listened, leaning forward to press his ear against the barrier. There had to be someone out there to help him. He heard nothing but his own heartbeat. "Somebody out there?"

  Images of his blue suffocated body filled his mind, threatening his sanity. He took a deep calming breath. He took another. Think, think, he told himself. There had to be a way out of this. Someone will come. His mother would be missing him at dinner. They would come looking for him. "Somebody, help me." He began pounding again at his prison. What if they did not come looking for him? What if they could not find him?

  He pounded the walls of the box until he was exhausted, and then he leaned against the back wall. He walked his bare feet up the front wall until he was in a sitting position wedged between the front and back of his cell. He pushed on either side for leverage and then kicked with his feet until his foot slipped. His efforts sapped the last of his energy.

  Wedged into a half sittin
g position, he was at least comfortable enough to sleep, if he had to. Where am I? He searched his memories for what might have happened. The last thing he remembered was driving the flock toward home just after dark. Why didn't I go home earlier? Where's my father? Had he not followed his mother out of the field? No? A man had stopped him. He knew my name. "Who are you?" he asked no one.

  Tobia had no sense of time locked in the darkness. He only knew that his stomach growled for food and his throat burned for water. The darkness consumed him and helped his sanity start to slip away.

  Finally the great box opened, and Tobia fell out to the floor. He could see booted feet before his face and kissed those feet and begged for food and water. He looked up to search for a caring face. The soft candlelight hurt his eyes as if it were the sun itself held inches from his face. He could see nothing else.

  “Tobia,” that rough voice commanded. “You will swear eternal devotion to me and become my slave.”

  “Yes, yes, anything.” Tobia felt desperate and would agree to anything for a sip of water.

  A bloody arm was pushed against his lips. Tobia tried to pull away.

  “If you swear your loyalty, you will drink, Tobia. This is all you will get from me.”

  Tobia believed. His thirst and hunger gave in. The man shoved his bleeding arm back to Tobia’s mouth. This time, Tobia took the blood,