Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga)

by Paul E. Cooley

  She reached the palace. A bronze statue of Sargon stood before the palace steps. The king's guard stood at attention in red tunics, ceremonial breastplates, their spears pointed toward the sky.

  The night's entertainment had been less than stellar. At least twice, performers were booed off the stage. Instead of collecting coin for their efforts, vegetables had pelted them with surprising accuracy. The city guards had to step in more than once to ensure the performers' safety.

  Many in the crowd had laughed as the hapless so-called "entertainers" were jerked off stage. Hela had simply shaken her head. The herd could be brutal to one another. Fat, drunk, happy, they could turn on a dime and slit the throats of those they'd been laughing with moments before.

  She'd traveled from mother river's southern delta to Akkad and back. In all her years, she'd seen the known world a dozen times. She'd even traveled beyond the delta and into the sea, swimming far enough to get beyond the silt and rock carried by mother river into the great endless water. But Ur was her home and she always ended up back at home.

  Hela watched the palace guards turn over the watch as Sin headed for the western horizon. They didn't notice her in the darkness of the alleys. It would be so easy for her to feed off them or destroy them. But they were her herd.

  Hunger in her belly, Hela finally turned on her heel and headed for home. She wove in and out of the alleys when a noise caught her ears. The sound of fist on flesh. The cry of a woman in pain. Hela had run across the main street and into the intersection. A dark passage up ahead caught her eye as well as her ears.

  Hela brought the beast forward. Her eyes glowed with embers of fire. The darkness ahead dissipated into shades of crimson. The outlines of the herd appeared. Three men held a woman up against a wall. One was ripping the clothes off the helpless, struggling woman.

  Hela snarled in the beast's voice and ran at the alley. Her skin turned stone-like, the color bleaching out as her flesh became the beast's. Taloned feet clicked off the hard-packed clay street. Her body grew taller and her head melted into a triangular maw of terrible teeth.

  The men were so busy with their rape, they hardly noticed the monster barreling toward them. Her taloned left arm smashed into the first man. Ribs shattered from the force of it and he flew down the alleyway in a crumpled heap. When the second man turned, he had time enough for his eyes to widen before Hela's taloned hand slashed through his skull and tore off his face in an explosion of blood.

  The woman screamed in horror as Hela lifted the remaining rapist in the air by his neck. His hands beat at her forearm. Hela growled.

  "This," the beast said, "I'll not allow." She squeezed and her fingers shredded the man's flesh. Blood filled the air as his trachea and spine snapped. The man's eyes rolled up in his head. She shook him until his head separated from his body. The head bounced on the alley floor with a crunch as the corpse dropped to the ground with a lifeless thump.

  The woman had her back against the wall. Her face and shawl were covered in blood. Hela turned to her, the beast's face set in a toothy grin. The victim shrieked. The beast stepped backward and shook its head. "Safe," it growled. And then Hela ran back across the street.

  With Garaaga's shadow still in control, she leaped from the ground and onto a tavern roof. The beast squatted and stared into the alley. The woman was still up against the wall, her chest a rapid rise and fall of gasps. The beast's ear picked up the war-beat of her heart.

  Hela watched and waited. If another of the herd tried to hurt the woman, she was ready to pounce. Time passed, but no other assailants entered the alleyway. The beast whispered it needed to feed. Hela ignored it. She stared back at the alley from where she'd come. Her shawl and sandals were somewhere back there. Hela grinned in the darkness and dropped down from the roof.

  She forced the beast back within her. Her stone skin melted into flesh, color rapidly returning. Bones snapped and crunched as her human form returned. She clothed herself in her robe and sandals and quickly headed across the street.

  The woman jumped as Hela entered the shadows.

  "Are you okay?" Hela asked.

  The woman nodded, eyes downcast. Her hands rose to her ripped blue and red shawl. Her eyes were puffy and she pulled the remnants of her shawl to cover her breasts.

  Hela moved closer, hands raised in the air. "It's okay. I'm here to help you."

  "Help," the woman said and then a flood of tears flowed from her eyes.

  "Okay." Hela put her arms around her. "You're okay. Come with me. I'll protect you." The woman nodded her head and allowed Hela to lead her. As they walked toward home, Hela stayed silent and waited for the woman to speak.

  When Hela tried to lead her through another alley, her traumatized charge slowed and then refused to move. Hela smiled at her. "There's nothing to fear."

  "You didn't see what I saw," the woman said.

  "What did you see?" Hela asked. She let go the woman's arm and stared into her dark brown eyes. "What happened?"

  "I--" The woman swallowed. "Something was in the alley. It killed the men."

  "Were they going to rape you?" Hela asked.

  The woman nodded. "They were. But," she sniffed back a tear, "it stopped them."

  "Good," Hela said. "They got what they deserved."

  The woman stared at her. "I am Minussah."

  Hela grinned. "Hela. Come on. I have some beer and food back at my home. I think you need some company."

  Minussah nodded and they continued up the street. When they reached Hela's house, she opened the door and ushered the still stunned woman inside.

  Hela sat Minussah on the bed. After a cup of beer, the woman looked less terrified. The beast was clamoring to be fed, but Hela held back its hunger. She was beautiful. Hela wanted her as much as the beast, but for different reasons. Most members of the herd would have completely collapsed after seeing Garaaga's shadow. The fact Minussah had only been shocked lit her curiosity.

  "I'm very tired," Minussah said.

  Hela nodded. "Then lay down. After Sin sets, I'll take you home."

  Minussah lay down on the bed. She pulled off her shawl exposing her unblemished copper skin and slight breasts. She curled into the fetal position.

  With an inaudible sigh, Hela undressed and climbed into bed. She spooned against Minussah and dragged her fingers through the woman's hair. Minussah twitched and then stilled. Her body was rigid with tension. Hela placed an arm around her, hand barely grazing Minussah's breast.

  Hela had listened as her breathing slowed and settled into a steady rhythm. The beast had roared, but Hela had dragged it back into herself. The lamp guttered and then went out. She had closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift. Within moments, she had joined Minussah in sleep.

  *****

  "Hela?" Ushar asked.

  "Hmm?" Hela turned her head to look up at her companion.

  Ushar smiled in the darkness. "You slipped away for a moment."

  Hela nodded. "Yes. Sorry." She cleared her throat. "Minussah was beautiful, smart. She worshipped Inanna too."

  "Did she cook?"

  Hela laughed. "Yes. Aside from making love beside mother river, it was her favorite past time."

  Ushar growled in her throat. "I imagine those were special nights."

  "Beneath Sin? Bathed in His light while mother river blessed our union?" Hela sighed. "Very special."

  "I understand your loss," Ushar said.

  Hela grimaced despite the soft-intonation of the words. She opened her mouth to snap at the woman, but stopped herself. Would be so much easier to tell you the truth, she thought. But you wouldn't understand. Not at all. "I know you do," she lied.

  5

  THE city was a party. Throngs of drunken revelers danced through the streets. Hela watched with a smile on her face. From her rooftop, she could see all the way to the city square. Lyres and drums were audible over the din of distant conversation and laughter. She yawned and stretched. It had been a good day. She'd spent most
of it in her home with Ushar.

  The woman hadn't seemed to notice that the lapis jewelry Hela bade her wear during their love making had turned clear. Perhaps Ushar saw and simply didn't want to know. Or maybe Ushar was something more. Hela didn't know and it wasn't important anyway; she was unlikely to see the woman again.

  With the exception of her late long-time companion, Hela had learned to ensure her lovers would not remember her. It was sometimes painful to watch their faces grow slack, eyes empty of thought, only for them to stare around as if lost. Sometimes they asked her who she was, or where they were. In those moments, Hela felt alone in a way she couldn't describe. A desert wasteland separated her from the herd. It was one that could never be traversed, try as she might.

  Minussah had come the closest to understanding and through the many centuries Hela had been alive, Minussah was the only one she'd ever told. Garaaga had come to her in her dreams, warned her against sharing the truth. But Hela had ignored Its wishes. As far as she was concerned, her scion had as little to do with Its children as possible so there was little reason to obey It.

  Her mother, Darika, had ignored Garaaga. To an extent. A village on the edge of a wide, green river had been her own temple and filled with her slaves. Worshippers. They sacrificed to her. They raided rival villages and returned with boys and girls to feed her. Once in a great while, a child born in the village would be ritually sacrificed to Darika.

  As long as Hela could remember, those servants had fed her mother. Beneath the shadows of the jungle trees, Darika lived in a small hut made of kasha grass and dried reeds. She'd never told Hela how she'd taken the village or when. Hela had often wondered if Darika had owned the river since the world began. Garaaga's children were long-lived. It was possible.

  Hela's first memories were of an old man named Milaan. The dark skinned man had a long white beard and scars upon his ancient skin. He always walked Darika to the river and fished while Hela and her mother played in the water. Milaan always caught fish and brought them back to the hut to cook.

  It wasn't too many seasons before the old man, who spent every night in bed with her mother, wasted away to nothing. One day, the old man simply didn't get out of bed. Darika, somewhat somber, kissed him on the forehead and whispered in his ear. The old man smiled, but didn't move. He might have said something, but if he did, Hela didn't hear it.

  Her mother, naked to the waist, put her arms beneath her companion and lifted him as easily as a bundle of leaves. Milaan was little more than a bag of bones. He made no sound as she carried him in her arms like a baby.

  Hela, little more than 24 seasons old, followed when Darika beckoned to her. The little girl with leaves woven into her long dark hair followed her mother step for step as they left the clearing and headed toward the river village.

  Her feet, not quite as hard and weathered as they would soon become, prickled at the touch of burs, thorns, and other jungle debris. Darika, well aware her daughter was behind her, held leaves and branches aside until little Hela made her way past them.

  When her daughter's foot became mired in a root and she fell, Darika stopped. She turned to Hela. The little girl's eyes were teary, but she hadn't cried out. Her mother smiled and her eyes flashed crimson.

  Get up, little one, her mother said in her mind. We must lay Milaan to rest.

  It was the first time her mother had spoken without moving her lips. Hela had been hearing her mother's thoughts for years, but until that moment, didn't understand what they were. As she pushed herself up from the ground, hands and knees scratched and bloodied by the jungle floor, she realized what her mother was doing.

  Hurt. I hurt, she said in her mind.

  Darika's warm smile faded a bit. It's okay, little one. There will be more falls. There will be more hurt. But you will always be safe with me.

  The calm voice inside her mind, and the color it had when it spoke, soothed her. The burning and itching from her wounds disappeared. She stood on wobbly knees and then continued walking forward. Her mother chuckled, turned, and broke from the jungle and into the village clearing.

  The sun burned bright above them. Rivulets of sweat poured from Hela's slick hair and cheeks. She wondered if mother would take her swimming. Would Milaan wake up? Would he trudge after them and wade into the river? Would his back pop and crack as he bent over to catch fish with his hands?

  The village was laid out in a seemingly haphazard placement of huts. Their center? A large boulder. The grey and brown rock had been carved by rain and human hands for generations. Its top was relatively smooth except for the curling lines of the symbol cut by years of stone knives against stubborn rock.

  The moment Darika was in view, the villagers crept from their huts. The men and women were naked. The same symbol cut into the rock had been carved into their flesh. Hela finally put the two things together. As the rock, so were they--for worship and sacrifice.

  Darika reached out her free hand to her daughter. Hela raised hers in response. Her mother's grip was firm, and at the same time, playful. Reassuring.

  Where is Milaan going? she asked her mother.

  He is going where all things go, Hela.

  The little girl frowned as they neared the altar.

  I don't understand.

  Darika glanced down at her. You will, daughter. All too soon.

  Hela wanted to ask more questions, but her mother's words had been tinged with a strange mix of red and blue. Darika was sad. Impatient. Whatever was about to happen, her mother wanted it over.

  When they reached the altar, they stood in its center with the villagers creating a ring around them. Hela glanced at them. No children were in the circle. Hela wondered where the little boys and girls were. Did they go to the same place Milaan was going to? Or were they hidden away somewhere so they wouldn't know?

  "Clear your mind," Darika said aloud to Hela. "It'll be over soon."

  Hela didn't know what that meant. But at the same time, her thoughts seemed to flutter away like dragonflies. She was left with only the sounds of Milaan's labored breathing and the village's heartbeat.

  Darika loosed her grip and Hela's arm fell to her side. The little girl didn't notice. Her mother whispered in Milaan's ear. The man's body twitched and then was still. With care, she lay him on the altar and knelt before it.

  The villagers followed suit. Little Hela, unable to understand, felt compelled to do the same. Her bloody knees sank into the black, fertile soil. She bit her tongue at the pain of the grit tearing at her wounds.

  Darika finally looked up to the sky, hands raised. The portion of the circle Hela could see did the same. Hela, raised her tiny hands. Her mother's voice rattled off syllables in a greasy, guttural growl. Hela shook at the sound of the unearthly voice. She turned to her mother and flinched. Darika's eyes glowed crimson.

  The villagers chanted, their voices a choir of discordant words and tones. Her mother's dark skin faded to grey. Her bones crackled. Her arms grew larger, chest widening. The ground next to Hela seemed to shake. Darika's mouth elongated into a triangular maw. Her hands turned into claws, long talons growing from what was once fingers.

  Hela shivered in fear. The creature that had been her mother rose from the ground. It stood taller than the circle of villagers surrounding the altar. Little Hela watched the creature roar at the sky before it brought its thick muscled arms down atop the boulder.

  The creature's palms hit the rock on either side of Milaan's still body. Hela felt a wave of heat rise off the stone. Her skin prickled and itched as a crimson glow surrounded Milaan. Darika growled and the world shook. She placed her stony palms on either side of his head. Hela sucked in a frantic breath. The creature roared to the sky and clapped its palms together.

  A cloud of red geysered outward and upward. Droplets of blood pattered down on Hela's head and stained her brown face. She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face as the creature roared again.

  Hela's skin burned. Something touched her should
er. She opened her eyes with a start. Darika's human fingers caressed her daughter's cheek. The creature was gone. Hela rose from her knees and put her arms around her mother.

  "Where did it go?" she asked.

  Darika patted her back. "The shadow is gone for now, little one." She kissed her daughter's cheek. "Don't worry, Hela. My shadow will never hurt you."

  Hela released her embrace. The circle of men and women, each with a spiral carved into their flesh, were once more bowed in supplication. Darika took her daughter's hand and bowed to the circle. Hela followed suit. The villagers chanted words she didn't understand.

  "Come," Darika said. "Let's go home."

  Hela placed her hand in her mother's outstretched palm. Darika, head held high with fierce eyes, led her daughter through the circle and back into the jungle. They were many steps beneath the dark canopy before she heard the chanting stop.

  "Milaan isn't coming home," Hela said.

  "No," Darika agreed. "He's where he's meant to be."

  "Where is that?"

  Darika stared down into her daughter's eyes. "With Garaaga," she said. They walked in silence back to their hut.

  *****

  She'd told Minussah that story once she knew the woman was hers. Minussah had listened in silence. With shaking hands, the beautiful woman had stroked Hela's cheek.

  "You are the one," Minussah had said. "The one who saved me."

  Hela had smiled and nodded. For a moment, the two stared into one another's eyes. Minussah had broken the spell by leaning forward and kissing her lips. Hela tasted the young woman and suddenly the beast, the shadow, was roaring inside. Hela pushed Minussah away and reached over the side of the bed. A small jar rattled as her fingers picked up tiny stones of deep blue.

  "Lapis?" Minussah had asked.

  Hela grinned and placed the jewels in the frightened woman's hand. "Yes. For you, beauty." Hela shuffled closer to Minussah and twisted a lock of her black hair. "And for me." She kissed Minussah. As her fingernails dragged down Minussah's spine, the woman moaned. In the morning, the stones were bled white, the color sucked dry.