by Aderyn Wood
The woman glanced at Sargan and spoke, “Our khanax is a fool. He is frightened. But, to answer your question, all our warriors are across the sea, warring.” Her dark eyes seemed to hold Sargan’s attention in a strangely familiar way, making his head light. “They are expected back at any time.”
Sargan glanced nervously at the shoreline and their two large ships anchored in the bay. Could they escape if their soldiers returned?
“Well, what did she say?” Hadanash asked.
“Their warriors are away fighting another man’s war. She also says the khanax is a fool.”
Uncle-general laughed. “I could have told you that. Though his son seems to have his wits.”
Sargan frowned, then realised he referred to the younger man who shared some physical likeness with the khanax. He was tall like his father, and had the strange red-coloured hair and the stranger green eyes, but his face was less angry, less bitter, and his mouth didn’t slant so.
“How many men in their force?” Hadanash asked.
Sargan asked the question and the woman gave him a quizzical look. “Just the men? Not the women?”
“Your women fight?”
“Of course.”
Sargan listened carefully to her explanation, trying to piece together each word accurately within her heavy accent. “It is difficult to know for sure, her language with numbers is obscure, but I think she means they have over a thousand soldiers.” Sargan refrained to mention the part about the women warring. He wasn’t sure he’d heard it right himself.
Hadanash looked at their uncle-general. “It appears our sister may be right.” He turned back to Sargan. “Ask if there are other cities with such armies.”
Sargan focused, and asked the question and listened carefully as she answered. “She says there are many other cities. They are the one people living on a group of islands, and each of them have their own soldiers. They are a warring people she says.”
“Could be quite a contingent,” Mutat said. “If we can tame them.”
“Indeed,” Hadanash replied.
Suddenly the old woman stepped forward and looked Sargan straight in the eye. She spoke rapidly, and Sargan had to concentrate hard to understand her words.
“What is she saying?” Hadanash said.
Sargan squinted. “She wants to know what we want. What we're doing here.”
His brother smirked at the khanax as he said. “Tell the old hag we have come from the greatest land ever known. The land of Zraemia. Tell her you and I are the son of the great King Amar-Sin, who will one day rule all Zraemia from one throne.”
Sargan frowned, but began translating, focussing to get the meaning as accurate as possible. The old woman stared at him with her dark eyes.
“Tell her,” his brother continued, “tell her I am the heir to the throne, and that the king's own daughter is a prophetess, and that our sister had been informed of their sorry existence by the goddess herself.”
Sargan noted the way the woman's eyes widened when he talked about Heduanna, using the word ‘seer’ in place of prophetess, for which there was no true translation Sargan was aware of.
“Tell her,” Hadanash continued, “I act in accordance with my father-king’s rule. My rule is his rule. Tell her you are our father-king’s youngest son, and that he has sent you here for one specific purpose.”
As Sargan finished his translation, a coldness ran through his veins. He gave his brother a questioning look, but Hadanash only smirked.
“Tell her to translate all of that to the fool khanax,” Hadanash said.
Sargan did so, and as she translated the message he asked Hadanash, “What purpose, brother?”
Hadanash ignored his question. “Ask her to verify that the young man there is the khanax’s son.” Hadanash pointed at the tall soldier with the red hair tied in a single braid at the back.
Sargan did as he was told. “Yes, he is.”
The khanax grew agitated and spoke rapidly to the woman who relayed his message to Sargan. “The khanax wants to know why you’re interested in his son.”
A sickening sensation fell in Sargan’s stomach.
“Is his son destined to become the next khanax of their city?” Hadanash persisted.
The woman didn’t have to ask the khanax, she seemed to know the answer.
Sargan swallowed bile as he answered. “Yes, he is.”
Hadanash grinned. “It is my rule, in the name of King Amar-Sin of Azzuri, the future king of all Zraemia that the khanax’s heir will return with us to Zraemia in no more than a quarter-moon’s time.”
Sargan's gut roiled. No!
“We shall hold the khanax’s son in safety for precisely one winter and one full sommer. When we return we will demand an army of ten thousand from this city and the others to return and help us defeat our enemies.”
No!
“If they are agreeable, they will receive much reward, and the khanax’s heir shall be reunited safely back with his people. If not, the khanax’s son will die.
And here it comes.
“In further assurance, we shall leave our most treasured young prince Sargan, in your company as guarantee of our agreement.” Hadanash smirked again at Sargan. “That’s the best part, little brother. Father’s leaving you as assurance. Well, has a cat got your tongue? Tell them.”
Sargan’s stomach churned as his future in the temple and life as he knew it slipped away. The betrayal stung like a scorpion’s sting. Hadanash had known all along. Why hadn’t father told him?
“Tell them, brother.”
Sargan swallowed and took a breath, before opening his mouth to begin the bitter message.
Part VIII
Azzuri
Sommer’s End
Eighth year of King Amar-Sin’s reign
5,847 years ago…
Heduanna
“Princess, please! I have duty.”
Heduanna glared at Addu. “What is so important that you cannot spend a little time with me? It’s been so long since we’ve made love.” She reached for Addu, so damnably attractive in his white skirt with the blue trim that marked him as a palace guard. “Remember that night when you stole me away into the city and we made love in your family home? The one with the blue door?” She patted his wavy hair that lay like a fan over his back.
“The one with the blue door.” He shook his head. “You speak as though we have more than one home. Yes, I remember.” His eyes bore a mix of lust and wariness. “But I was wrong to do it. I put your life in danger.”
“Oh, come now, Addu. Stop being so serious,” Heduanna lifted Addu’s skirt.
He slapped her hand away. “I have duties. I will be remonstrated if… I mustn’t.”
Heduanna frowned. “Who will remonstrate you?”
Addu sighed, straightening his sword in its belt. “It does not matter, my Princess. Of course I’d rather come inside with you, but I’ve a duty, as your guard.”
Heduanna squinted and opened her mind to the goddess, using a thread of raw power to touch Addu’s spirit. “Now tell me, Addu. Who has remonstrated you?”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot and shook his head, focusing his gaze over the terrace, on the city below. “It is not important.”
Heduanna bit her lip. He was so close to telling her. She stepped close and put her arms around Addu’s waist, and reached up to kiss his neck. She dared to access more of the goddess’s power, but a sudden flash of light erupted in her vision and dizziness unbalanced her. No. Not now.
“Princess!” Addu gripped her shoulders, and she fell into his arms.
She tried to speak, but her eyes rolled back, as the seizure took hold. Soon she would face the goddess. She mustn’t resist. She must let the visions come.
The temple bell was ringing. Heduanna counted three of them – mid-morn. She opened her eyes. Her room was lit only with the golden hue of morning from the sun’s rays that angled through the adjacent reception room. But even that muted light was e
nough to make her scrunch her eyes shut once more.
“Princess?”
Heduanna recognised the voice. Blessed Verdualla, eminent priestess and master healer. I wish I could send for Kisha. Yes, dear Kisha wouldn’t cast condescending glances the way the priestesses always did. But has she forgiven me?
“How long this time?” Heduanna asked, not yet opening her eyes. Her throat was dry and her voice sounded strange in her ears.
“Three days.”
Heduanna took a cleansing breath through her nose and out her mouth. Her head was foggy and her limbs heavy. It was too tempting to relax into the softness of her bed and let sleep take her for another three days. But the best way to recover from the fits was to force herself out of bed and begin moving. She placed her hands on the mattress and tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness took her, and she dropped her head back down on the pillow.
“Do not strain yourself, Princess. Here, let’s try some water first.”
Heduanna nodded and gulped the cup down when Verdualla held it to her lips. The priestess then arranged the pillows, so that Heduanna’s head and shoulders were elevated. She poured another cup of water.
Heduanna sipped. It was as sweet as any wine.
“Easy. You know what happens if you have too much at first.”
Heduanna reluctantly gave up the water.
“Shall I inform your father you have woken?” the priestess asked.
Heduanna opened her eyes. The dim light didn’t hurt so much now. Verdualla was staring down at her with her aged and superior face, the two feathers in her headband stood straight up. “Not yet,” Heduanna said. Father would only ask questions about her visions.
Flashes of the goddess and her images returned, along with a wave of nausea. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, and gradually the dizziness passed.
“Help me to stand so that I may relieve my waters.”
Verdualla called another priestess into the room and together they helped the princess to sit on a chair designed for such a purpose. They sponged the princess with warm water that smelt of rose, and dressed her in fresh linen, then returned her to her bed. Heduanna managed to eat a handful of grapes and drink more water without bringing anything up.
Verdualla arranged her pillows once more. “Sleep until the noon bell. Then we shall try more food and a little walk to the terrace.
Heduanna’s eyelids were heavy. “The colours were so pretty,” she muttered, as she recalled the strange-looking trees in the visions. She watched the priestesses leave between lengthy blinks, before sleep promptly claimed her.
Something warm and soft rested along her arm. Heduanna opened her eyes to see Smite sleeping soundly on her bed. His spots shook with each purring breath. A new fresh scar marked his nose and desert sand had matted his coat. He needed grooming, but Heduanna doubted he’d let her near him with a brush.
“Daughter, I am glad to see you awake.”
Heduanna looked up. There sat her father. He wore so little kohl it was barely discernible. Dark rings formed shadows under his eyes, and his hair had tangled knots at the ends. He needed grooming too.
Heduanna smiled. “Hello, Father.”
His eyes revealed his usual concern. As much as he relied on the goddess and her messages, her father-king worried about her health. It always touched her heart, sometimes bringing tears to her eyes. The king of Azzuri loved his children, though he did his best to hide the fact from friend and foe alike, a necessary measure for their protection.
“Could you ask a priestess to fetch me some water?” she asked.
“I sent them away until the next bell.” He poured a cup of water himself. “How are you feeling?” He handed her the cup. “These convulsions take their toll. If only there was another way.”
Heduanna drank. She felt better than before. The dizziness and nausea were much diminished, and she no longer felt so groggy. She looked at her father again and the realisation dawned on her. “You… you’re really here. It’s been so long since you’ve been up here, Father.” Not since mother died.
The king gave her a slow nod and Heduanna felt another flush of love for him. She glanced at a chair and gestured to it. “Will you help me sit?”
“Are you sure?”
“Not really, but I need to start moving to quicken the healing.”
Her father frowned.
“It is what the priestesses would say, I promise.” She gave him a smile and he helped her stand, his strong arm around her waist, he supported her to the chair, then threw another stretch of linen over her lap. Smite gave them a growl before bounding off outside.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked.
“I am, thank you. Perhaps I could tell you something of the visions now.”
“No, daughter. It can wait. Would you like something to eat? And perhaps some wine?”
Heduanna smiled. “Yes. I'm absolutely starving. If you could arrange for the biggest tray of roasted quail with a pomegranate dressing and honey dumplings, I’m sure it will help my healing.”
The king raised an eyebrow. “Would the priestesses approve.”
Heduanna bit her lip and shrugged.
Her father grinned. It was such a rare thing to see him smile and it lit up his face so beautifully. “I will see to it, daughter. And we will keep this our secret.”
Two days later, the priestesses declared Heduanna well enough, and they retracted back to their beloved temple like beetles scurrying from the light. Heduanna made her way to the royal courtyard, and the cleansing waters of the pool. This time of year it was cool and made her skin prickle, but the water proved as refreshing as she knew it would.
Flashes of the visions returned to her continuously, and she spent much time in thought, attempting to accurately sequence them into one coherent narrative. After breakfast she would speak with her father to begin Phadite’s message.
She took a long breath and dove under, swimming all the way to the other side. She came up gasping for air and noticed someone stood in the courtyard. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, and sighed with disappointment. It was Qisht.
Her skin crawled at the sight of him. “What do you want?”
He bowed his head. “I merely wish to enquire as to your health.”
And to get a sniff of my visions, no doubt. She moved to the steps and climbed out of the pool. Her nakedness had no effect on Qisht as it did other men. The slave thought himself rather pretty, and this morning was no different. He wore his makeup immaculately and a single gold loop adorned his ear. A gift from her father, most like.
“I am well,” Heduanna replied, curtly.
Qisht bobbed his head again, then looked at her with a curious gaze handing her a stretch of linen. “Princess, is there somewhat I have done to offend you?”
This took her by surprise. Qisht offended her every day when he whispered advice in her father’s ear and influenced, too greatly, the future for Azzuri. He offended her every night when he left the king’s dining room to follow her father and take her mother’s place in his bed. He was a slave who’d risen too far. A slave from Urul, who her father still considered their enemy city, despite the fact that she was to be betrothed to their king. It had puzzled Heduanna how her father trusted him so completely. But all this she kept to herself. Why Qisht chose this moment to inquire about their icy relationship, she had no idea. And she had no intention of enlightening him.
She lifted her chin. “I’ve no notion how you’ve concluded such. You’re a slave. I barely notice your existence.” She busied herself with drying her arms and legs.
If Qisht felt anything he kept it well hidden.
“You may tell Father I will breakfast with him this morning, and I am ready to inform him of the goddess’s message at his leisure.”
“At once, princess,” Qisht replied, before turning and stepping silently away.
Had that been a smirk on his pretty face? Heduanna fumed. Her life would be perfect if only he was out of i
t.
At breakfast, Heduanna stacked her plate high with figs, honey dumplings, and a fat blood sausage. She took a large cup of beer to wash it all down.
Once her father had finished his own modest breakfast of stewed apricots with curd, he sent the servants away so that only he and Heduanna remained in his dining room.
“Your appetite is strong. You’ve been sleeping well?”
Heduanna finished her mouthful of sausage and nodded. “Yes, Father.” She took a sip of beer.
“I understand you’re ready to share the goddess’s message?”
“I’m still trying to sort the images, but some visions are clear enough.”
Her father glanced around. The dining room was empty aside from the two of them. The guards would be lingering on the terrace, in shouting distance, but no one could hear their conversation.
“Share them with me now, what you can,” the king said.
Heduanna raised an eyebrow. “Now?” She was still eating. “You don’t want to wait for an audience with the high priest?”
“He will hear in good time. Perhaps once you’ve gained a fuller understanding of the message in its entirety. For now, a prelude of the goddess’s mind would benefit my ears. So tell me, does her message stay true?”
Heduanna put her cup down and dabbed her mouth with a table linen. “Phadite’s advice remains the same, though she is even stronger in her appeal to gain an army from the west.”
The king’s face relaxed. No doubt he’d been worried about his decision to send his two prince-sons to an unknown land. Heduanna had been baffled and even a little disappointed that the goddess continued to view the western foreigners as important. She’d hoped her likely betrothal would have appeased Phadite’s desire for peace, but on that matter the goddess remained silent. It was troublesome, but there was still much to discern, the visions had been many and varied this time. The image of Heduanna sitting on a seat of rule had returned. Perhaps there was a message about her betrothal after all.
