Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga)

by Paul E. Cooley

  The stout naked man, adorned in feathers, held his hands up to the sky. Even above the crowd noise, Ama heard the man's avian screech.

  Bird-man walked to a pail at the front of the stage and dropped in his burning sticks. He turned toward his fellow jugglers. The cat threw her sticks to him and he placed them in the bucket. The snake was still juggling, balls of fire circling his upper body.

  The cat loosed a feline scream and then pitched forward through the snake-man's legs and disappeared behind him. Arms flapping, the bird strutted behind the snake. The stout man was at least two hands taller than the snake. He bowed behind the juggler. The cat's head appeared atop the bird's.

  Snake leaned back and flung the torches higher. The cat's arms appeared over his shoulders and caught the sticks before flinging them again. The sticks flew in separate directions as the snake threw them left and the cat to the right. The crowd applauded as the fire made the shape of a large oval below and a smaller one above.

  The torches all flew into the air at once. The snake and cat outstretched their arms and caught them in their hands. Stunned into silence, the crowd watched as the snake slowly bowed. The cat and bird followed suit. Hands clapped, men, women, and children cheered. Slices flew through the air and hit the stage.

  The cat dropped from the bird's shoulders. The three turned as one and walked off the stage.

  A black clad figure strode across the platform and collected slices in a bag.

  Ama felt dizzy. In all her years in Ur, she'd never seen such a performance nor costumes as exotic.

  "Beer?" a voice asked.

  Ama turned. A curvy woman stood before her. Her robe was colored in stripes of red, blue, and orange. Long black braids stretched down past her shoulders. Each hand held three mugs of beer.

  The sight of the woman tugged at her loins. "You are beautiful," Ama sighed.

  The woman's eyes fluttered. "Beer?" she said weakly.

  Ama reached out a hand and took a mug. She drew a slice with her other hand and placed it in the woman's coin bag.

  "Too much," the beer woman whispered.

  Ama took a draught through the wooden straw. The liquid was heavy, but cooled her throat. "Celebration," Ama said and stroked her hand down the woman's cheek. She sighed with pleasure. "Follow me."

  The beer woman said nothing as Ama walked away. Ama didn't have to turn to know she'd have a companion for the night.

  5

  Dawn had broken through the black night. Ama stood at her window and nibbled a piece of unleavened bread. The stars were disappearing. Sin had set while she and her night companion had still been locked in an embrace.

  Ama had watched Sin fall beneath the horizon while her fingers brought Afaf to climax. The beer girl had moaned with pleasure, one hand pinching at Ama's breast while the other clutched the pallet.

  When Afaf had finally collapsed and lay supine, Ama had lain beside her and stroked her cheek with wet fingers.

  "So beautiful," Ama had whispered.

  Afaf's eyes fluttered. "Thank you," she sighed.

  Ama's hand drifted and traced the curve of Afaf's waist.

  "Have you been with a woman before?"

  "No."

  Ama smiled. "Should you remember me, you'll want another."

  "How could I forget this?" Afaf giggled.

  "You'd be surprised how easily I'm forgotten."

  They said nothing for a moment while Ama's fingers continued tracing her companion's outline.

  "There is no shame in pleasure," Ama whispered at last. "No shame to be had from feeling."

  Afaf's chest rose and fell in deep breaths.

  "Hela taught me that, although not in the way she expected."

  Ama stroked the girl's neck. Her body shuddered, but she continued to sleep.

  It had taken all her will power to let the girl sleep and simply watch her. Ama had only needed a release, not to feed. She had sipped from the girl regardless-- it was impossible not to.

  She kept loose lapis stones in a basket near the pantry. Before she began making love to Afaf, she had picked up a small stone and placed it in the girl's belly button. It had been enough to protect her.

  The lapis cuff she'd purchased from Nergur lay beneath the pallet. With all the outlanders descending on Ur for the Name Day celebration, she needed to be wary of thieves. They wouldn't dare enter a house during the day, but during the celebration?

  Ama continued stroking the girl's cheek, a slight smile on her face. Last Name Day, she had been awakened by someone entering her small home. Even with the din of the city celebration echoing from the square, she'd heard the door's muffled squeak.

  By the smell of sweat, leather, and musk, she knew it was a man. The thief crept slowly through the moonlit house. The interloper was smart--he waited until a round of applause erupted from the square before placing items in his bag accompanied by a barely audible "clink." Ama wondered just how many homes he'd visited before hers.

  When the thief entered her bedroom, he stopped. Ama lay naked facing the wall. She heard the man's breath hitch. Ama didn't move. She pushed her need into the room and smiled. She could sense him getting hard.

  The bag dropped to the floor with a soft, ceramic crunch. The sound of fingers scrabbling against fabric and the rapid rise of his heartbeat made her womanhood pulse. She fought the urge to roll over, spread her legs and invite him inside. She didn't have long to wait.

  Grimy hands grabbed her buttocks and flipped her onto her chest. She put up a half-hearted struggle. The man's hands locked on her hips and raised her ass in the air.

  The man hesitated. Ama rolled her eyes and then violently pushed her need.

  The smell of sex permeated the room and filled the man's nostrils. He moaned and then pushed into her.

  His member slid past her labia and deep inside. She sighed with pleasure, but did her best to make it sound like pain. Garaaga's shadow stirred as the man pushed forward, then pulled her backwards and drove himself deeper.

  A dribble of drool hit her back as the man grunted and groaned. Ama grinned.

  She clenched and unclenched her muscles, increasing and decreasing pressure in time with his strokes. He trembled inside her. Ama allowed the pleasure to wash over her and cried out. He hitched and then filled her womb.

  His fingernails dug deeply into her hips as he panted. She felt him begin to pull away.

  "No," she whispered.

  "What?"

  Ama brought the starving shadow forward. "I said no," she growled in an impossibly low voice. Her nether lips turned into stone as she locked her muscles around his manhood. The thief screamed. His fists rained down on her back, but she barely felt the blows. She snarled and shuffled backwards until he was forced to stand, his penis still locked inside her. With a roar, she clenched as hard as she could.

  Warm liquid gushed inside her and the man's screams stuttered into shocked silence. She released him and then somersaulted, her face below his ruined penis. The man stared down into her burning crimson eyes.

  Her face elongated into a triangular maw displaying glittering white teeth. She grinned.

  The thief ran from the room, his hands still clutching his bleeding penis. She heard him tear through the door and into the alley beyond. His screams were barely audible over the celebration from the square.

  Ama had pushed the shadow back in place. Her body returned to normal. She had cleaned up the blood and gone back to sleep with a smile on her face.

  The memory was both warming and chilling. She had toyed with the man, invited him inside her, and then punished him for the same. Garaaga's shadow had demanded blood for his trespass. Or perhaps it was the remnants of Hela's teachings.

  "The herd," she had whispered to Afaf's sleeping body, "must be controlled. Must know their place. Or so Hela said."

  Afaf breathed a snore.

  "But Hela never loved. Not even me." Ama had hugged the sleeping woman and smiled when the girl's arms enclosed around her.


  ***

  The ziggurat's shadow was already growing. She watched it slowly proceed across the alley outside her window. The Sin faithful might already be mounting the temple for early morning prayers. She wondered if the Priest or Priestess she had seen the night before would be there now, dressed in finery, offering alms to the now invisible moon god.

  Ama sipped water from a clay cup. She had finished breakfast. It was time to go into the streets, look at the night's aftermath, and swim.

  She donned a simple blue and yellow skirt and wrapped a shawl around herself. Her leather purse lay on the floor by the bed. She opened it and peered inside. Several shekels and even more silver slices stared back at her. She cinched the bag tight and tied it inside her skirt. Pick-pockets wouldn't be out and about this early in the morning; the thieves would be sleeping off the night's celebration.

  Cool air greeted her as she opened the door. Although the bedroom window provided a bit of breeze, the sun was already warming that part of the house. Outside its mud-brick walls, the quickly departing night air prickled her skin.

  The street was covered with broken clay cups, stray beads, ripped garments, discarded food, and vomit. She shook her head. The king would no doubt send armies of slaves to clean the city before long.

  Name Day celebrations were always marked by trash, crime, and violence. One could tell the success of the Name Day by the number of executions and public floggings that occurred the week after.

  Since the kingdom paid vendors to ensure the beer and food continued to flow at low prices, even Ur's poorest citizens managed inebriation. The occasional skirmish was inevitable and the constabulary either settled the matter at the site of the disagreement, or parties were taken away to the dungeon to await judgment.

  Most of those punished were outlanders. The Ur-Nammu code of law was famous, but those who traveled seemed incapable of following its simplest tenants. Both murder and robbery were capital offenses. Other offenses, such as rape, kidnapping and the like, were settled via monetary restitution. But regardless of what the code might say, rape was rarely settled in court.

  Even after a rapist had paid the fine to the family for his crime, they were unlikely to forget the trespass. Those who had appeared in court to settle monetarily were often found in the desert. Their castrated, broken remains fed the jackals, wild dogs, and buzzards. The constabulary did little to quell feuds, so long as any "family" justice occurred beyond the city's walls.

  Citizens and the city's slaves had rights and the protection of the law. Outlanders were supposed to as well, but the constabulary frequently took bribes to look the other way in favor of the city populace. To be a thief in Ur, however, was a risky vocation no matter your citizenship. The only reason Name Day brought so many to the city was the very slight chance of being caught. With so many people crowded together, it was nearly impossible to discern who might have picked your pocket.

  Ama stepped over the rubbish and headed toward the city gate. She shielded her eyes against the growing sun to stare at Sin's temple. As expected, a figure already stood at its apex, surrounded by other shadows.

  "Rain," she whispered. "All pray for rain."

  "Excuse me? Miss?"

  Ama turned.

  An exhausted man walked toward her. His face was ashen and his eyes red-rimmed.

  "Yes? Can I--" She felt as though she was staring into her long dead lover's eyes. "Do I know you?"

  The man's lips upturned in a wan smile. "You bought fruit from me yesterday."

  "Ah, yes. It is lovely," she said. The man's frown returned. "Is something wrong, sir?"

  The man nodded. "Yes. My son. He's missing."

  "I-- I'm sorry to hear that, sir."

  "I am called Fadil, my lady."

  "Ama."

  The man bowed. "Were you at the celebration?"

  "Only for a little while. Through the fire jugglers."

  Fadil nodded and pulled at his long, black beard. "My son, Drimesh, was with me. I lost him in the crowd after their performance. Do you remember him?"

  Ama nodded.

  A tear slipped from the man's eye. "He was wearing blue and yellow, much like your skirt."

  "I've not seen him," she whispered.

  Fadil nodded and stared at the ground.

  "Is he your only child?"

  "Yes," the man sighed and wiped another tear from his cheek. "His mother died in the last flood."

  Ama took a step forward. "I am sorry, Fadil. Have you told the constabulary?"

  "I am an outlander. They don't care."

  A swell of anger rose within her, but she kept her composure. "I am a citizen. I will do what I can for you."

  The man bowed again.

  "Where are you staying?"

  "My tent is outside the city gates."

  "Your son's name is Drimesh?"

  "Yes."

  Ama smiled. "I will come and find you should I see him."

  "Thank you, Ama. Good day."

  Fadil turned and walked toward the market square. Ama watched him go, her fists clenching and unclenching.

  The previous Name Day, several outlander children had disappeared and the constabulary had done nothing. They hadn't bothered to search, much less warn the populace.

  Stay out of human affairs, Hela had told her. If you stray too far into their world, they will corrupt you. Worse yet, they might discover you.

  She had seen the boy the day before. Bronze skin, deep brown eyes, a bit thin for his age. The child's grin had been infectious. She hoped he hadn't met the same fate as those that disappeared the year before.

  Ama continued walking to the city gates. The man, Fadil, had cried for his missing boy. Hela had never cried for her-- Hela hadn't been capable.

  She passed royal guardsman dressed in purple and red guarding the city's entrance. She felt their eyes upon her. The shadow was coming forth. Gritting her teeth, she tamped it down.

  Focus, she said to herself.

  Tents of all shapes, sizes, and colors littered the grounds beyond Ur's walls. Merchants, entertainers, and other outlanders often chose to stay outside the city. The inns were extravagantly priced for Name Day celebrations and quickly filled to occupancy.

  Very few of the desert denizens were up and about. She walked a path through the campsites and headed toward the river. By the time she returned from her swim, cooking fires would fill the air with smoke, and the rabble would be roused.

  6

  The river was moving faster than it had in days. Ama looked upstream as she disrobed. There were no clouds to the north, yet the river's flow had definitely quickened from the day before. Even the bank looked to have shrunk

  Rain, she thought. Somewhere to the north, it's raining.

  She smiled, walked down the sandy bank, and into the cooling water. The sun was barely above the horizon and already the crushing heat had removed all memory of the night air.

  The river swallowed her as she stepped further in. She closed her eyes and felt the current push against her. It was a wonderful feeling.

  Afaf had been an unexpected treat. She hadn't lain with a woman in quite some time. She hadn't required much of a push to follow Ama into bed.

  You'll be surprised how often humans want to do what you want them to, Hela had said.

  About that, Hela had been right.

  Her last few lovers, Afaf included, had needed only the occasional push to stay with her, feed her, clothe her, and remain her companion. As with the previous men, she'd had to tell Afaf to leave and to not remember. Since the girl had only stayed with her for the night, the chances she would return were small.

  The thought of Afaf's heaving breasts, slick mons, and half-lidded eyes sent a shiver down Ama's back. The woman had been so beautiful in the moonlight. Ama had felt scars on the woman's back as she stroked her, but hadn't bothered to look--it would have ruined the moment.

  When you feed for pleasure, daughter, be aware of your surroundings. You have to take the same precau
tions as when you feed for need.

  Feed for pleasure. Is that what she had done with Afaf?

  Ama rose from the water and flipped on to her back. The sunlight was a glow beyond her closed eyelids. She put her arms by her sides and then pushed against the water until they were perpendicular. Her body moved faster in the current.

  The child's face floated in her mind. She frowned. Fadil had cried for his return, for fear of his loss. Perhaps the boy was all he had left.

  Hela would have laughed if she were still alive.

  Don't you see how weak they are?

  Weak. Easily manipulated. Controlled. Ama had learned those things from her mother by watching her tend the herd, feed, and destroy.

  One day when they had gone to the market, Ama had started to feel faint. It was a rainy day in Ur and they were both drenched, their skirts and shawls clinging to their bodies. Hela held a basket of fruit and walked rapidly ahead of her daughter. Hela was in a hurry to get back to the house.

  With each step in the mud, Ama's vision wavered. Her insides roiled with pain. "Hela?" she had called. Her mother hadn't heard her over the rain. Ama stumbled and then fell.

  She lay there, sputtering in a deep pool of muddy water. Her loins were on fire. Ama tried to scream but water and mud clogged her mouth. Pressure started to build in the darkness of her mind.

  Ama rolled over and coughed. Filthy water sprayed out of her mouth. The rain spattered against her face. She opened her eyes and saw nothing but darkness. The pressure increased.

  Do you feel me? a growling voice asked.

  Ama screamed as hands lifted her off the ground. The pressure abated and her vision returned. Her mother was leaning down to her, hands on her shoulders.

  Hela was smiling. "Did you hear it, daughter?"

  She hugged her mother and began to cry. "What happened to me?"

  "Did you hear it?"

  "I-- I heard something."

  "You heard your father." Hela pushed Ama back a little and stared into her eyes. "You will hear Him again. Let's get out of the rain."

  Hela let go of her daughter, picked up her basket of fruit, and began walking toward home.