After training Hela to protect herself, Darika had tearfully hugged her daughter. The last words she'd said were "Find your way, child. Be fruitful." Darika had kissed her on the lips. "Be a loyal daughter and Garaaga will be loyal to you."
Hela had been unable to speak. She knew if she did, she would completely break down. Instead, she had hugged her mother, and walked west on the river bank.
After a few days, she came to a conglomeration of tributaries and a large village. She'd spent several days there. They spoke a different language than the men and women in Darika's village, but she managed to pick it up fairly quickly.
The village, Lothal, had a wooden platform that jutted out into the river. Small boats would arrive laden with strange looking men. Rather than the dark colors of Darika and her villagers, the men were olive-skinned and wore brightly colored clothes.
When they spoke to one another, their words were a mash of guttural glottals and sibilants. They traded with the village for lumber, beads, and fabrics. After a few months, she became friends with one of the tradesmen and after a night of feeding upon him, he offered her passage to his world.
That was how Hela had made her way to Ur. Darika had bade her travel the world, to see it all. While she'd visited Sumer and Akkad and the other city states, Ur would always be her home.
She was sure Darika would have been disappointed, but Hela had chosen to stay near the temple of Sin rather than spend years wandering around the deserts. Ur was her herd now. And she would never leave it.
Hela opened her eyes. Wispy clouds were gathering in the south. Perhaps a storm was finally going to make its way inland. Rain would feel good on her skin. Rain would replenish the land. Rain might even restore balance to Ur.
She surface dove and touched Mother River's deep bottom with her fingers. The feel of the silky mud in her fists made her smile. Hela kicked off and broke above the water. She swung her head west. Ur's walls were little more than a spec in the distance. The great temple was closer, but not by much.
The water dripped off her hair and into her eyes. Hela grinned and swept her fingers through her long, dark mane. She looked upriver once more. There were no boats in sight. One day soon, she hoped, Mother River would be choked again with merchants floating their wares to the southern city. The Akkadian empire might be over now, but that didn't mean the Babylonians and others wouldn't trade with its remnants even if Elam now owned Ur.
People had to eat. People needed clothes. The herd had needs, regardless of who was in charge. Hela walked toward the bank. The feel of the silky silt between her toes sent a shudder of pleasure up her spine. The beast purred in her mind.
She reached the olive tree and sat beneath its withered leaves. The hot sun and dry air quickly licked the moisture from her skin. Hela pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them as she scanned the river. A fish turned over and she smiled. She closed her eyes and sniffed the air. The beast smelled something other than Mother River. It smelled rain.
When she felt dry enough, Hela rose from the ground and wrapped her shawl around herself. She looked out at Sin's temple, the walls of Ur, and the specks of Elam's tents. The desert looked as it always had. At least that was something. Hela stepped away from the bank and headed back toward Ur.
*****
Still exhausted from the previous night's hunt, she reached home and immediately climbed to the roof to nap. The heat of the day was little discomfort. As when she'd left the city, the citizens of Ur, those brave enough to walk the streets, were muted and afraid. Before falling asleep, she wondered if the news of the attack had made its way through the city.
Someone yelled in the streets. Hela opened her eyes, groggy and disoriented. A voice bellowed in broken Akkadian. Hela slithered to the side of the rooftop and gazed at the city square. A group of soldiers, spears pointed toward the sky, surrounded a well-dressed man in a colorful tunic. The cryer faced the far side of the square and the truly indigent portion of Ur. His voice echoed. Hela heard only gibberish.
The man finished speaking, turned 90°, and resumed his bellowing. The circle of soldiers reconfigured itself around him. His words no longer echoed, having been swallowed by the gap separating the city square from the palace. The wealthy heard his message. Hela frowned. She focused with the beast's ears, but the sounds were too low and muddled for her to make them out.
The cryer turned yet again and shouted his message. This time, Hela made out some of the words. The man's accent was thick, but it did little to detract from his message. Hela groaned inwardly. Last night had been a mistake.
He turned again. Hela sat cross-legged, eyes closed, hands on her knees, and let the man's words wash over her.
"Citizens of Ur. There will be no tolerance of violence against Elam's soldiers. Any acts of insubordination or revenge will result in grave punishment. For every dead soldier, we shall rape and kill three children in the public square. You have been warned."
The echo of his voice died. The man nodded to the soldiers around him and they escorted him to the city gates. Ur was silent save for the wind. No one walked the streets. No one dared make a sound. Fear, a very alien emotion, roiled in her stomach and her mind. The herd. They would destroy her herd. And there was nothing she could do.
No more vengeance. No more protecting the innocent or ensuring fair treatment. The Elamites would not suffer another unnatural death of their soldiers.
Hela felt cold. The sun still baked the land, but chills ran down her spine.
Everything you do has an effect, Darika had once told her. You need to calculate what those effects are before you give in to anger or vengeance.
She rose and looked out across the city. Curfew was still hours away, but Ur's denizens stayed in their homes. Hela wondered how many of her herd would go to sleep with hungry bellies and fearful hearts.
No more, she told herself. She couldn't risk the herd. The criminals, rapists, and killers would be safe from her wrath. For now. The herd's misanthropes were safely stowed in their houses; there was little concern for them. She only hoped the Elamite soldiers understood the message and wouldn't dare try her patience. If they did, she'd wait until the time was right, and then figure out how she'd avenge the herd.
Hela climbed down into her home. While the sun slowly set in the west, she drowsed on her pallet. Darika's face drifted into her mind, her mother's dark skin and glittering eyes haunting her in brief, restless dreams.
13
DAYS passed and the city slowly resumed a cautious cadence. The remaining shops opened after the cryer cajoled them into returning. The cryer promised they would not be harmed and that many of the soldiers and Elamite royalty wished to peruse their wares.
Hela walked the city by day. She took note of the invaders, how they treated the people of Ur, and marked those she might have to deal with. Her deadly assault on the criminal soldiers seemed to have tamped down on the nightly violence. There would be more of them in the army, but for now, they were hiding amidst the throng. If the occupation lasted more than a few months, those men might decide they were safe from her wrath. In a way, she hoped it was so.
There was precious little for her to do apart from walk the city, visit Mother River, and slowly waste away. She'd preyed upon the old fisherman days and days ago. The beast raged at her daily for another meal. Its incessant growling in her mind made sleep difficult, let alone walking amongst the herd. Worse, her need was becoming desperate. With each visit to the river, strips of ashen skin slid off her arms and legs. She felt herself disintegrating bit by bit. Before long, she'd melt into the desert and become indiscernible from the pebbles and dust littering Mother River's banks.
She had to feed. And she had to do it soon.
Hela sat on the bank facing the water. Naked, her shawl wrapped around one of the few remaining olive trees, she stared at nothing. The river's far bank was as lifeless and still as the rest of the desert. She could smell rain, but it was far away. The drought, it seemed, was never
going to end.
Maybe this is how it should be. The city dies. I die.
The beast growled an unintelligible stream of guttural syllables in her mind. Her shadow self was too starved to even make sense, but it wasn't giving up. Before long, it might simply take over to get what it needed. If it did, would any part of her remain?
The skin was the first to go. Then the energy. The power. All that had allowed her to live through the rise and fall of Sumer, the rise and fall of Akkad, was fading and falling into ruin just as the storied kingdoms of man. Hela's lips twitched into an ironic smile.
Is this what Darika sought to prevent? Is this why she built her little village on the river and never strayed from it? To be safe?
Her mother's voice echoed in her head. As I said, Garaaga wills it.
Garaaga. The father. The mother. The source.
The beast's constant prattling ceased. Hela took in a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. It wouldn't stay silent long. Garaaga's shadow was weak, starving, dying. In a few days, when her body turned to dust, it would never speak again. Hela's mouth twitched into a slight smile. At least then I'll have some peace, she thought.
Wake up, little one, a new voice said.
Hela opened her eyes and frowned. It was familiar. Something deeper. More powerful than the beast that lived inside her. Her shadow self trembled.
Feed.
The sharp-edged word was a commandment that bounced inside her mind. She winced as lightning bolts of pain criss-crossed through her brain. A thread of dark crimson slowly leaked from her nose. Hela wiped it away. Another licked down from her left eye. Her vision fogged. Hela closed the eye and experienced a new world of pain. She clutched her hands to her head and wailed.
Feed.
She fought a scream. The pain was so bright, her vision flashed in waves.
"The herd," she mumbled. "Will die."
They are coming for you, daughter.
Was that her mother's voice? Was that Darika speaking to her, or--
Then she heard it. The sounds of feet on sand, careless sandals kicking stones, and the jingle of metal. Hela awkwardly fell to one side as she tried to turn around. Her skull hit the hard desert floor, pebbles and detritus breaking off more curls of skin. The pain in her mind was nearly more than she could bare. Even with her eyes scrunched together, the desert sun's bright light pierced her brain. She tried to scream, but the sound escaped as a whisper.
Something touched her bare back. Hela barely noticed. Something grabbed her shoulder. Someone spoke words in Akkadian. Hela tried to roll over, but the hand on her shoulder prevented her from moving. Another hand slid beneath her legs and rolled her to her back.
Look, daughter, Garaaga's rasping voice said in her mind.
Her left eyelid fluttered open. The light of the sun was brighter than ever. A dirty face stared down at her. Other men clothed in filthy robes stood behind him. The man licked his lips and glared.
The beast inside screamed. She felt waves of lust loose from her body. The men began to strip. Hela, frozen in terror, could only watch. And then she was in pain.
14
WHEN Hela awoke, Sin was low over the desert. From the cave's mouth, the yellow sliver was barely visible. The night pulsed with countless twinkling stars, a god seemingly in every one of them.
Her body was a twist of pain. For the first time in her life, she knew what it meant to hurt. Every nerve sizzled with damage. Her left arm jutted out at a strange angle. She thought she saw bone protruding from the bloody skin. It hurt to lift her head, but she didn't have to--she knew one of her legs was broken at the shin.
Something pulsed inside her. Something...comforting. Hela licked her lips and winced. Split flesh, broken teeth, damaged body. The worst of it all? She knew who did it.
The herd, Garaaga whispered.
Yes. The herd. They hadn't been Elamite soldiers or bedouins looking to slake their lust, but people of Ur. Men of Ur. The herd of Ur. The humans she'd protected, feeding only when necessary. The herd.
"Are you awake?" a familiar voice asked.
She tried to turn her head and moaned in pain.
"Still, child. Still."
"Nergur," Hela said. She winced at the sound of her own shattered voice.
She felt his presence long before he slipped into her sightline. The man sat on his haunches at her side, a moist bit of cloth clutched in his ancient hands. He lay the cloth on her forehead. Her burning skin cooled at once.
"What have they done?" Nergur's eyes flicked over her body. The ancient lined face scrunched in concern and anger. His eyes glowed yellow and then red before returning to shadowy orbs beneath his large forehead. "What have they done?" he asked again.
"You found me?"
He nodded. He reached to his belt and pulled free a water skin. "Lick the water, child." Nergur sprinkled water over her lips. The exquisite pain of moving her tongue was matched only by the pleasure of the cold water. Her dry throat begged for more, but Nergur stopped. "Rest a little and I'll give you more."
"How did you--"
"Don't talk," he said. "How did I find you?"
She blinked her eyes.
His angry face split into a sad smile. "The gods all speak to one another, child. Even to me."
Nergur sat down and pulled his legs in. Cross-legged, he placed the water skin in his lap. He watched her for a moment, but said nothing.
Hela tried to clear her throat. It hurt. Garaaga, did it hurt. Everything felt broken and abused. The image of a swarthy, filthy man standing over her entered her mind. A sliver of drool fell from his lips onto her forehead while another man entered her again and again.
She shook away the image and winced with the effort. "The herd."
Nergur's eyes narrowed and then he nodded. "They surprised you at the river bank." It was a statement, not a question. Hela said nothing. "You were too weak to fight them off. Or control yourself." The being's ancient eyes glittered with hatred. Or was it pity? "Yet you could have. If you had fed."
A tear slipped from one eye and slowly meandered down her ripped and torn cheek. "I couldn't feed on the herd. There was no way to."
He shook his head. "The soldiers would not stop you, child. The men and women in the city are vulnerable. Afraid. They were easy prey. So why didn't you?"
"Too much." The words came out in a gravelly whisper.
Nergur dropped his eyes to the hard, rock and gravel floor. "Too much," he echoed. "Did you not learn the lesson?"
"Lesson?"
He raised an eyebrow and then his head. Yellow and orange flames filled his eyes. The light flickered in the darkened cave. Hela felt a moment of fear, and then saw the kind expression on his face.
"The lesson," he said, "is that men and women are animals, child. Animals." He nodded to her. "Just as are you and I. We are ruled by lust, greed, hunger, pride, anger, and sadness." He pointed a long, gnarled finger at her. "The difference is our needs, the things that control creatures like us. They are not passing." He leaned forward and stroked her forehead. "They are infinite."
She winced at his touch, but then relaxed. His palm was cold and soothing. "The herd." She worked her tongue through a missing tooth. A stub was already growing to replace it. In a few days, there might be no signs of her attack. Maybe even no scars. "They hurt me."
He nodded. "Their nature is to give in to their wants and needs without thought. That is the herd." He plucked the rag from her forehead, remoistened it, and returned it to her burning skin. "But that is also you."
"Father told me to feed. Begged me to feed."
The old man grunted. "Your father? Or the beast inside you? Is there a difference?"
Hela said nothing. Something streaked across the night sky and then was gone as if it had never been there. She closed her eyes. "I have to sleep now."
"Yes," he said. "You do. When you awake, I shall bring you something to eat."
Hela heard the sound of his bare feet on gravel and then a whis
per. The pungent aroma of wood smoke filled her nose. Finally, she slept.
*****
Sunlight on her face, wan but warm. Hela opened her eyes and stared out of the cave mouth. The sun was low on the horizon, but rising fast. The desert floor shimmered with heat haze. A barely perceptible line of black moved far off in the distance. Elamites bringing supplies to the city. Or perhaps tradesmen bringing their wares for market day.
She raised her head. Everything seemed to ache from the movement, but it was far better than the lightning bolts of pain she'd experienced the last time she was awake. She stretched out her left arm and it hit something pliable. She turned to the side.
A desiccated body lay next to her. The face had once been female, but there was little detail left. The corpse's breasts had sunk into the rest of the body. Its legs curled like olive tree limbs. The remains of a smile stretched taught across its cheekbones. Hela immediately knew why she felt better.
"Nergur?" she called out. Her voice was less of a croak and actually sounded somewhat human. Her throat still hurt and the memory of fingers digging into the skin was still fresh in her mind. But she could speak. Would speak. "Nergur?"
The cave was silent. Hela pushed off the blanket covering her and sat up. She stared at her legs and then sighed. Her broken leg was swollen with crimson lines dancing outward from a shredded and bruised bit of skin. She gritted her teeth and then smashed her left hand against the bone.
A scream ripped through her throat and blasted the cave. The beast growled with anger, but she felt the bone click back into place. Blood welled from the ripped flesh. She didn't care.
Purple and greenish bruises covered every inch of her inner thighs. The occasional bite mark too. The beast growled again. Her body was healing fast. She turned and looked at the meal Nergur had left for her sometime during the night.
Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga) Page 7
