《Goddess at the Gates》


 Prologue: Judgement of Uruk

    <h1>Judgement upon Uruk </h1>


    ¡®¡¯I, Enmerkar, King of Larsa, appointed by the Divine Lord of Utu, in accordance with the will of Anu, Heavenly ruler of the Annunaki, inform you, Eneduanna, High Priestess of Uruk, of the sentence you are to receive. This verdict has been conducted by the form of our sacred laws and the agreed will of the Larsan Judges.


    I, Enmerkar, am the prosecutor of your sin. I rule Larsa as you rule Uruk, and hence you will be accountable for any and all actions that stem from your red city. This sentence for your crimes I send back to Uruk chiseled in granite, alongside your harlots that have walked amongst us, now exiled back to whence they came.


    The court has found you, Eneduanna, guilty of the following offenses against the Kingdom of Larsa:


    You are guilty of murder, adultery, theft, false witnessing and coveting.


    You are guilty of corruption, degeneration, fornication, enslavement, and sacrifices conducted on citizenry of Larsa.


    You are guilty of attempts at bribery, seduction, whoring, threatening, unfair mercantile practices and trading in forbidden goods.


    Most of all, you have been accused of unprovoked warmongering against my Kingdom, and indeed the court has found you guilty.


    Packs of red-clothed men have prowled in our lands, and in the lands of others. Lions stemming from your arid plains have prowled in our lands, and in the lands of others. No longer can we ignore the rapine and filth that flows from your Uruk. We remember when Uruk, once a small merchant¡¯s town on the banks of the river, knew its rightful place in the world. Now it has become cursed with your presence, and we are forced to destroy those who we once held in friendship.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Judgement is upon you, Eneduanna, High-Priestess of Uruk.


    Your high walls will be leveled to the ground, and your high gates shall be burned with fire.The labors of your people will be for nothing, because they will no longer exist.You have broken sacred laws of the Heavens and your actions have angered those around you.


    I, Enmerkar, King of Larsa, will ensure that you will drain the cup of wine of fury and wrath. The idols you have so pridefully raised to yourself will be dismayed and put to shame. I shall make your city desolate, and none shall dwell in it; both man and beast shall flee away or will not live to see the next dawn rise. All your luxury and vain splendor will vanish, never to be seen again.


    Never again will a people purchase your cargos of gold, silver, precious stones and pearls; of fine linens purple, silk and scarlet; of all kinds of citron wood and every article of ivory, precious wood, bronze, copper and marble; of cinnamon, spice, incense, myrrh; of wine, olive oil, fine flour, and wheat; of cattle, sheep, oxen and arms; of slaves and souls of men. Your great marketplace will become a ruined memory, your fortunes brought to dust. You false prophetess, whatever tainted blood flows through your veins, we reject it.


    The sentence we give you is death: the Court of Sumer demands your head.


    Death to you, Eneduanna, High-priestess of Uruk.


    Death to you, and I, Enmerkar, King of Larsa, will carry out your execution.


    I, Enmerkar, King of Larsa, declare war upon you, Eneduanna, High-Priestess of Uruk.


    My men cannot break as long as the sun shines.


    Utu, God of Sun and Justice, withers you, oh Witch of Uruk.


    Summer is my domain.¡¯¡¯

 Chapter One - The barren fields of Violence

    <h1>Chapter One - The barren fields of violence</h1>


    Twenty men shined with sweat as they carried the brass throne up the hill. Their feet shuffled up the dry dirt and their exposed skin burned scalding red in the light of the summer sun. Seated on the throne was the High-Priestess, dressed in scarlet, her tall body resting against golden wings.


    The carriers moaned and sighed, then with a final effort managed to reach the hilltop.


    ¡®Down.¡¯ Eneduanna commanded, and her throne was placed on withered grass and rough dirt.


    She raised her tall figure from the throne and stepped barefoot on the ground.


    Servants rushed forward, carrying palm leaves and canvas parasols to shield their mistress from the scorching light.


    Even in the shade Eneduanna felt the oppressive rays of the sun, her lengthy gait withering. Her full mouth was pouted in displeasure and sweat pearled on her stern face. Her long dark brown hair was pushed back over her ears, the sweaty strands uneasily sticking to her neck and shoulders. Her eyes were large and almond shaped, now squinted against the bright light and opened only a sliver.


    Beautiful they called her. The greatest. The Godess.


    Tall she was, far taller than her attendants that bowed around her.


    An occasional servants hand reached up, straining to reach her face, gently wiping the sweat with precious cloth. Too gently, in fact, Eneduanna decided; the fearful, trembling old hand barely touching her skin. So the sweat dripped down her chin and fell to the hot sand below. The serviles watched where the droplets landed while they gently swayed palm leaves at their mistress. The moment she would leave they would covet the moistened sand - fight amongst themselves for the right to keep the relic of her sweat-infused dirt; Eneduanna expected nothing less.


    From the hilltop she looked over the arid land of Uruk. A dimmed rustle reached her ears; a sigh, like the rolling of the sea far from these barren lands. If the wind blew in her direction she could even call it noise, brought alongside coarse sand and reddish dust.


    Far in the distance, on the flat stretched out plain below the heights she stood on, assembled the disbelievers. She could see them; A violent sea of bronze, the sun dancing on their shining helmets and shields.


    Above the plain fine dust lingered, kicked up by the marching feet of thousands. Eneduanna turned to the small man besides her. She saw his orange wig had shifted, showing the bald head beneath.


    ¡®Heabani.¡¯ The aged eunuch¡¯s crystal earrings rinkled as he heard his name. His red painted mouth turned into a sweet smile. ¡®Most revered one.¡¯


    ¡®What was the message their King had sent to me again?¡¯ She had heard the words already, and had the envoy executed, but she was eager to shift her attention from the near unbearable heat. The eunuch also had a fine voice, never truly matured and light like a bird¡¯s feather.


    Heabani closed his eyes and opened his gentle mouth to speak.


    ¡®My men cannot break as long as the sun shines. Utu, God of Sun and Justice, withers you, oh witch of Uruk. Summer is my domain.¡¯ Heabani recited with his fine ethereal voice.


    The sides of her wide mouth curled up faintly. The eunuch¡¯s soft, high-pitched tones had been completely completely ill-suited to convey the threat.


    ¡®So their King is without fear.¡¯ Eneduanna stated.


    ¡®That seems to be correct¡­¡¯ Heabani replied, wiping his forehead with a theatrical gesture.


    ¡®-Should I give the signal to attack?¡¯ Like his mistress, the eunuch was also eager to release himself from the heat, but she waved her slender hand dismissively. ¡®Wait just a moment.¡¯


    ¡®As you wish, High-priestess.¡¯ Heabani glanced at the sun high above the land. It scorched, burned, wrung out the dry land of its last essence, reigning supreme. Under the sun¡¯s rays a new sound was formed on the plains. Something beyond the distant clamouring, the grinding footsteps, the neighing of beasts. Soft at first, started by a single man.


    Utu, Enedduanna heard. The shining soldiers across the plain took up the call. The voices strengthened and challenged her divine rule. Their many throats were united in one voice. The eunuch shuffled uneasily as the Larsans invoked their own God.


    ¡®UTU. UTU. UTU.¡¯ The name of their Lord was on the plain.


    Eneduanna grimaced. Larsans, sunworshippers. Sunburnt and unbroken they now moved against her. Their noise and numbers irritated the tall High-priestess, the unease only exacerbated by the oppressive heat.


    At the base of the hill h¨¦r men awaited, clad in distinctive red cloth, their many banners rising high amongst a forest of spears, noisily dancing on the wind as they depicted the eight pointed star; the star of dusk and dawn, the bright illuminator of Inanna, Queen of heaven, Goddess of Uruk, of war and sex, of desires and lusts; and the means to fulfill them.


    And the stars had aligned, the season of war had come.


    Amongst her warriors priestesses moved, long haired women, desirable and inciting. They sang praise to Inanna and swept up the men of Uruk in anger. They played the flute while they intoxicated the men, carrying drink, powder, scents and aromas. Ingesting, injecting. Pots of beer and hazy smoke. Hymns to Inanna slowly built up pressure in the warlike sons of Uruk, the intoxicated entranced. Their banners were crowned with heads from previous victims, some fresh and beset by flies, others reduced to broken skulls, bone bleached white by the coarse desert sand.


    ¡®UTU. UTU. UTU.¡¯ The calls of Larsa grew bolder.


    Eneduanna felt her spine hurt. She moved her weight from one leg to the other, her long body not taking well to prolonged standing, especially not in this heat. But until the battle was over she would remain tall on the hill, visible for all, the final seal on the spell of men.


    Eneduanna finally opened her dry mouth. ¡®Commence the attack, by the grace of Heaven their blasphemous mouths will be silenced.¡¯This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Behind the tall High-Priestess a heavy horn started blowing. She felt its deep tones reverberating through her body. Her large ears shook when more horns added to the call.


    The plains below were filled with a low rumble, spurring the red formations into motion.


    Eneduanna groaned silently as an ebb of pain started behind her dehydrated eyes, pulsing up coincidentally every time the Lord of the Sun was invoked across the barren fields.


    ¡®Have the men sing for me Heabani.¡¯ She rasped.


    A servant reached up to her with a clay jar, eyes somewhat fearful, and Eneduanna eagerly brought the luke-warm water to her lips. Drums started beating, a slow rhythm, and the red warriors of Uruk sang as they marched into battle, greeted only with the incessant invokement of ¡®¡¯UTU¡¯¡¯.


    From her high position Enedduanna could see the first charges, the clash of shields and weapons, walls of shining bronze, and then the mixture of men as the order turned into chaos. The dust increased as the first bodies hit the dirt and the dry earth soaked up the blood.


    Eneduanna watched silently for a long time, finding herself in one of those rare moments she was not in control. The heat continued, the enemy would not break.


    Black clouds cast shadows over the battle before angling down and burrowing shafts in the men struggling below. Heads were taken; trophied, thrown.


    With dust in their eyes and mouth, their limbs straining, tiredness arrived. Through their exhaustion the sons of Uruk fought, occasionally glancing back at the hill, where the tall lady stood. Then they would hurl themselves against the enemy once again, like mad beasts, desperate men.


    A flank collapsed, shining Larsa advanced, still repeating the name of their God as they thrust forward their spears.


    ¡®My lady¡­¡¯ Heabani whispered cautiously. He looked up at his mistress but she would not meet his eyes; Her gaze remained fixed on the battle.


    ¡®What, eunuch.¡¯ The High-priestess demanded.


    The small man took a step closer. ¡®Perhaps -¡¯


    ¡®Have you no faith, Heabani?¡¯ Eneduanna barked. Now she met his stare, and her brown almond eyes were full of fire. ¡®Must you be replaced with another?¡¯


    The other attendants stood by silently, involuntarily trembling as they felt the rage of their mistress.


    Heabani fell to his knees. ¡®Forgive me.¡¯ His painted hands clutched her feet.


    Eneduanna sighed. ¡®Stand up you old fool, and watch. The stars have already promised us victory. I have seen it for myself.¡¯


    Heabani scrambled up, wiping the dust from his fine robes. Small streams of sweat ran over his temples, washing away his carefully added powders and paints where they went.


    In the simmering heat of the valley the men of Larsa advanced under cover of the sun. Uruk was pushed back step by step, and the clamour of battle moved closer and louder. Eneduanna smiled. ¡®They will fight to the death if they have to. Here at the base where I stand. The very soil of this hill will become sacred.¡¯ She chuckled with good mood as more and more of her men fell. One of her long fingers curled up attentively. ¡®Now watch, disbeliever.¡¯


    The intensity of the light changed, the bright sun suddenly dimming. At its shining edge a black disk crept up, and slowly the scorching sun was hidden. The warm light from heaven was gradually pinched off by the sudden occulting. Rippling lines of light and shadow moved over the land - and then there was darkness. Night arrived during the day as the eclipse came; a black sun, surrounded by a hazy faint aura of white light.


    Sounds became subdued as thousands of warriors looked up, feeling a sudden cold shadow fall on their sweaty bodies. A heavy silence came over the land. They halted fighting a moment, men locked in death-grips stopping the deadly struggle for a few heartbeats as they witnessed the reign of the black eclipse.


    Larsa¡¯s ranks stirred. Utu¡¯s aid was no longer with them, their Lord of the sun subdued.


    The red clothed warriors now induced terror. With all their arms they struck Larsa and Larsa finally broke. Their walls of shields and spears shattered. Uruk came hunting in the darkness and Larsa fled. Under the colourless light-starved watch of the eclipse they were cut down. They lay in the dirt with opened veins, souls forced out into the shadow.


    Suddenly an arrow of sunlight struck the landscape and the plains breathed life again. The black disk transformed into a black crescent and then departed completely.


    The scorching heat returned in all its absoluteness but Larsa was already broken and defeated. Uruk spread over the hazy battlefield unopposed; the Sunburnt, unafraid before, now begging for their lives. They were not spared, but instead slaughtered like the lamb.


    Enedduanna enjoyed the massacre, the plain covered in killings; in the murder of men.


    With surprise her eyes found a host still resisting, surrounded, hopelessly fighting the overflow of red Uruk. Their banner was torn, but a silver moon was still visible.


    ¡®What men are those?¡¯ She asked with wonder.


    Heabani looked up from the slaughter, a wry smile on his mouth. ¡®They are Hurrians, my mistress. Mercenaries from the northern mountains. They aid the Larsans.¡¯


    ¡®Foreigners.¡¯ Eneduanna stated. ¡®Fighting like lions to die on a land that isn''t theirs.¡¯


    She shook her head sadly. ¡®Loyalty for gold; How pitiful.¡¯


    The circle of Hurrians shrunk as their kin fell to the hands of Uruk, leaving a ring of red clothed corpses around them, but she could not keep her eyes off them.


    ¡®Heabani?¡¯


    ¡®Yes, mistress?¡¯


    ¡®It is quite a sad display...¡® She stated. ¡®What whispers have you heard about them?¡¯


    Heabani scratched a light patch of stubble at his flabby powdered throat.


    ¡®A band of exiled Hurrians I¡¯ve been told. They have a good reputation, loyalty being one of them, as is evident. I can assure you they will fight to the death.¡¯


    Another bronze warrior went down, and the ring became smaller.


    ¡®I have never seen Hurrians before...¡¯


    ¡®Mountain tribes. Strong, tall people. Not as tall as you, mind you. But fierce nonetheless, quite territorial. Sometimes a band of them descend from their hills into the Riverlands, offer themselves up to local Lords. But they chose the wrong war to join and now they are paying for their sins.¡¯


    Eneduanna pushed back her sweaty hair over her ears, eyes enticed with curiosity as the last of them struggled for survival.


    The line of Uruk parted and a scarlet robed woman came into view over the heads of the Urukian men. Tall she was, towering over her warriors who reached up to her breasts. Like a mother and her many children she was, slender and gracious. Her brown hair reached to her middle, and her olive skinned arms carried circlets of gold. The Uruk soldiers kneeled in the dust before her, ignoring the last Hurrian mercenaries. ¡®Enedduanna. Enedduanna. Enedduanna.¡® They repeated in reverence.


    She let them worship her feet, and her brown eyes turned to the mercenaries.


    Just a handful remained, breathing heavily, wounded, their backs pressed against each other.


    With slow, deliberate steps she walked towards them. ¡®You have seen the power of Inanna.¡¯ Eneduanna spoke accusingly as she moved closer. Her voice was dark honey.


    ¡®I am her High-Priestess. I command you to surrender.¡¯


    Her eyes moved over the Hurrian men, finding one stare back. His face was covered in blood, but his eyes were pale grey, sharp and aware, with a hint of battle-induced madness.


    Like his face, the long hair that showed under his helmet was reddened by dried blood, but a few strands still showed golden brown.


    Eneduanna moved even closer, wide hips swaying, reaching for his spear. She took the bronze tip in her fingers and pushed it down gently. Eyes interlocked, the warrior let go and the weapon fell onto the sand. His men did the same. Inanna now decided over their fate. He bowed down before the High-priestess and around them Uruk cheered deafening.

 Chapter Two - Feast of Lions

    <h1>Chapter Two - Feast of Lions</h1>


    ¡®Move, maggot!¡¯ A stick hit his leg, striking out pain as he continued climbing the hill. One hand grabbed his long hair, dragging him along even further.


    Sjerub growled, feeling the bounds on his wrists behind his back, unable to respond to the constant aggression of his guards.


    The sun had started its descent and there was a foul smell in the air.


    ¡®Faster, slave!¡¯ A hairy hand smacked his face. A few more steps and he reached the top of the hill.


    The High-priestess awaited him above, barefeet, wind pulling on her scarlet dress, pressing it against her skin and revealing her figure.


    Sjerub¡¯s guards pushed him forward again, using unnecessary violence as they drove him towards the tall woman. They wanted to force him in submission with their fists and kicks, attempting to bring him to his knees, their eyes constantly seeking approval of the High priestess. But Sjerub would not bow, he would not fall, and with bruised face the guards eventually left him alone before the tall woman.


    As the warriors left she offered him an earthen cup. Seeing it filled with wine he accepted. His hand trembled as he tried to bring the red liquid to his lips.


    At the base of the hill the battlefield started. The plain was covered in dead. Countless bodies lay broken on the field, their number stretching out into the distance. After the eclipse the sun had returned, but its rays brought no blessing to Larsa; only simmering heat that bloated the rotting corpses. The stench of death now reached Sjerub with strength.


    The army of Larsa was scattered, crushed; no more. A few scavengers looted the dead for valuables, cloth before their faces, working swiftly as the stench of rot increased. Large numbers of dark coloured birds came flocking towards the barren fields, thousands of them. Sitting on young boys and old fathers. Great heaps of men discarded. The maggots and flies soon omnipresent, writhing and multiplying in the rotting flesh.


    Sjerub watched the dead landscape and felt the eyes of the High-Priestess burn on his skin.


    Enedduanna was her name, he could not forget. For the sake of himself, for the sake of the others. He finally succeeded in sipping the wine but he could barely taste anything, the smells of the dead too overpowering.


    How tall she was, Sjerub thought, watching the tall woman from the corner of his eye.


    Her towering presence came closer until she stood beside him; calm and unbothered by the smells and the horrid sights stretching out before them.


    As he watched Sjerub realized not all were dead. Some moaned, mortally wounded, dying with their guts cut open, clutching their festering wounds. He saw one man crawl away as his already fallen kinsmen were set upon by vultures. The carrion feeders eagerly followed him, and he resisted weakly as they started picking at his eyes. When his arms would not lift anymore he could only scream as his eyes were pulled out by sharp beaks.


    At the edge of the plain black flocks flew up in thick clouds as a new beast arrived. Powerful jaws with teeth the size of daggers, limbs muscular and clawed. A lone lion with black manes, attracted by the mounds of rotting flesh whose scent reached far across the barrens. His powerful roar carried far as he started his feast. The lion ripped apart bodies and tore off limbs, while the birds continued their work of blinding the fallen.


    The High-Priestess forced him to watch until she decided the trembling mercenary had seen enough.


    ¡®You understand the power of Inanna now?¡¯ She asked.


    Sjerub finally looked up. ¡®I understand.¡¯ He said.


    He felt sick to the stomach as he gazed upon her but he couldn''t avert his eyes either. Her length terrified him, no human tribe he knew was as tall as she was. Even he, a lengthy mercenary from the north, felt like a child in her presence. Despite her elevation she was not broadly built, instead her features were delicate and feminine. Long elongated digits landed on his shoulder and she lowered her head to meet his gaze.


    He looked into her large brown eyes and there was sudden desire; an unexpected stirring in his heart. A strange feeling when surrounded by death, with veins pumping blood still filled with rage of war. It mixed with fear, muddying his judgement, hazing his mind.


    He was stuck in those captivating almond eyes. They held a swirl of different browns ranging from copper to dark timber. They seemed to glow, as if an orange flame burned behind the shining surface.


    Her mouth was wide, resting atop a slightly jutting jaw that lead to a dimpled chin.


    He noticed her full lips opening in a hungry smile, before being led back to the drowning pools of her eyes.


    Sjerub felt his senses overwhelm and he forced himself to turn away.


    Desire disappeared like the ebb and flow of the seas. The next tide brought fear, pitch black, clinging to the strains of his thoughts like tar. Sjerub was nauseous, his mind tossed between emotions and moods.


    Again before him the stretched out plain of dead filled his vision, growing until it crawled at the edges of his perception. Moans of the dead and dying found their way back to his ears in melodies of escaping gas and agonizing screams. His limbs began shaking, the mercenary warrior losing control over his body despite his best attempts.


    ¡®Why do you tremble? Have you so much fear in your blood?¡¯ Eneduanna gently asked from above. She looked at his feet. ¡®Will I see the piss drip down your legs when the knife is put on your throat?¡¯


    Sjerub¡¯s eyes remained fixed on the dead. They called out to him. Larsa was dead and he still lived. Their heads turned, spines cracking, empty eyes accusing him. Bloated bodies stirred.


    Dead men dont move, he told himself but his throat clenched in unease.


    ¡®Its not right.¡¯ He spoke with difficulty.


    ¡®What is not right?¡¯ Eneduanna asked maliciously.


    Sjerub shivered. ¡®They need to be buried.¡¯


    ¡®They marched against me. There will be no burials, no prayers for the dead. They will be consumed by the beasts and their names forgotten. May their souls be stuck forever in these barren fields.¡¯


    The High-Priestess took up an earthen jar and refilled Sjerub¡¯s cup. He drank eagerly now, anything to dull the senses.


    ¡®What is your name, Hurrian?¡¯


    ¡®Sjerub.¡¯ He replied, bowing his head towards her. ¡®-High-priestess of Inanna.¡¯


    She gave a wide smile, revealing rows of white teeth. ¡®High-priestess of Inanna.¡¯ She repeated.


    ¡®You are quick to bow and speak correctly now the army you have fought for has fallen...¡¯


    The smile faded. ¡®But in your position correct words are not enough to buy life.¡¯


    Sjerub attempted to speak, but something in her gaze forced him to remain silent.


    ¡®I have considered making you a eunuch and gifting you to the brothels. A fitting fate for defeated men.¡¯ She wrinkled her nose in disgust, then shook her head. ¡®You deserve not to live, but I will make you an offer; a token of my boundless mercy. I want to¡­ purchase you. That is how it is done right? Soldier-prostitute; I pay you gold and your fate is mine.¡¯


    Prostitute. It took a moment for his tired mind to reply. ¡®You wish to Hire me?¡¯


    ¡®Are you not the master of the Hurrians? Were you not the one that wisely gave command to lay down arms? I see a Northern mercenary, his fate hanging by a fine thread held by a southern Queen.¡¯


    Her gaze intensified and his mind became clouded again. Slowly his vision traveled to her wide lips. They moved again, - Slowly, like a spell. He saw her tongue and white teeth. Her mouth weaved time, stretching it out.


    ¡®I want you In Uruk.¡¯ Her voice was amorous, good hearted, slightly hoarse.


    A long finger trailed affectionately over his arm, crossing an old scar. Sudden pain from the wound flared up, and the milky thoughts became sharp again.


    He was silent as he contemplated his answer. This tall woman, this High-priestess was dangerous. A witch the Larsans had called her, cursed her name a thousandfold. He had to tread carefully here, but he was a Hurrian. Hurrians dont break oaths it was said, and the sayings rang true. He gathered his bravery.


    ¡®It depends.¡¯ The words trailed off. Weak, isolated. They felt like a mistake, sadly unretrievable from Enedduanna¡¯s ears.


    Her large, almond shaped eyes reduced to narrow slits. ¡®Depends- on what?¡¯ Her warm voice turned cold. Sjerub grimaced, shaking off a creeping sense of panic.


    ¡®Does the king of Larsa still breathes?¡¯ The Hurrian asked carefully. ¡®You have seen the moon on our shields. Symbols of Kusuh, Lord of oaths and promises. A Hurrian God. There is a reason our reputation is one of unbroken loyalty. When we signed contract with the chief of the Larsans we also signed it with the Lord of truth. He keeps the faithful safe, the honest, the dedicated. All the men of Larsa are dead, but I still live. I could not break the oath when day turned into night and my allies, to whom I swore my loyalty, were already dead.¡¯ He glanced quickly at the High-priestess, seeing the displeased pull of her mouth release some tension, and he quickly continued. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡®Please do not seek to destroy this bond. Hurrians cannot break oaths, not if sworn on the moon and bound in blood. So I ask if the King still breathes. The contract loses its power with his death. Please, understand that this loyalty also extends to you, were I to swear the same oath to you.¡¯


    ¡®I see.¡¯ The priestess spoke, some of the warmth returning in her tone. Her hostile expression turned to calmness again. ¡®The Hurrian reveals himself the negotiator. Very well, I will indulge in your practices.¡¯ She nodded. ¡®Yes the King of Larsa still breathes. I hold him in chains for now. I am bedding him with one of my priestesses. Their offspring I proclaim to oversee Larsa in the future. Once the King¡¯s seed has been sown, he will die.¡¯


    Sjerub glared over the fields of dead. Clouds had arrived from the north, carried on a strong wind that brought coarse sand and pushed the stench up the hill even more. Under the fast-approaching cover of thickening clouds the land turned shadowy once more, just a few rays of golden light still breaking through the heavens above. The ground it illuminated only showed corpses, a hint of bronze glinting amongst fallen banners.


    ¡®Then if you would permit us to wait until the act has proceeded we would be grateful.¡¯ He said and the High-priestess gave a sigh, losing interest in the mercenary warrior besides her. She waved her hand carelessly. ¡®I¡¯ll grant it.¡¯


    ¡®My gratitude, High-priestess of Inanna.¡¯


    ¡®You can leave.¡¯ She said flatly.


    No warmth, no coldness; No emotion spent on him, and Sjerub felt distraught by it. An urge arose within him to earn her approval, but it would not be today. He bowed and left, leaving Eneduanna gazing out over the valley.


    Sjerub stumbled down the hill - on the side of the living, not the dead.


    A group of Urukian warriors awaited below, hulking figures leaning on their spears, their eyes following his every step down. A man with a golden crown stood amongst them; the King of Uruk. Strong arms held blood covered weapons and two dark eyes peered out under thick wolfish eyebrows. The King¡¯s face was shrouded behind a great beard, black like ink, curls rolling over the lower half of his face. Nostrils flared out of a flat nose, snorting like a bull. The eyes held only contempt, and the sliver of mouth visible under the dark beard was displeased. Two red robed warriors surged forward and dragged the Hurrian down the last stretch, pushing him to his knees before the black haired King.


    ¡®If it were my decision to make I would kill you on the spot.¡¯ The King of Uruk said, placing his morningstar atop Sjerub brown hair. The heavy weapon weighed heavily on his head. ¡®Know that I am your conqueror. When I pass you cower in the dirt; low, so I dont have to see you. Oppose me and I shall crush you like an insect.¡¯ The morningstar retracted. ¡®Know my name, foreigner. It is Kitun.¡¯


    The King spat on Sjerub, a thick wad of slime dripping down the mercenary¡¯s cheek.


    ¡®You and your filthy kin I command to go to the barren fields. Bow amongst your fallen allies, and pray to our Lady war, Inanna, and praise Enedduanna¡¯s name till nightfall. Let the Revered one hear gratitude that she has spared your lives.¡¯


    Kitun snapped his fingers, and a line of Hurrian prisoners came in to view, tied together with ropes. Thirteen men; all that remained of their brotherhood. They were covered in filth, still wearing their blood-spattered armour, eyes exhausted, stumbling as the whip lashed out.


    Kitun grabbed Sjerub¡¯s long brown hair, yanking him closer and speaking directly into his ear. ¡®No time to waste, insect. Lead your men into the carrion fields and sit amongst your dead brothers.¡¯


    He gave the Hurrian a push, and Sjerub started walking.


    With Urukian warriors at his flanks he moved around the hill, the miasma of death covering him again like an eager lover.


    They passed the first bodies, slain in terror mere hours ago. Crows flew up, screeching discontentedly as the Hurrian prisoners disturbed their meal. The concentration of bodies thickened until the ground under was no longer visible, only rotten flesh, half eaten-eyes and damaged armour left to walk on.


    ¡®Here is good.¡¯ Kitun stated with disgust, coughing as he covered his face with cloth.


    ¡®-Kneel and pray.¡¯ The King wheezed and he pointed back at the hill. ¡®She is watching.¡¯


    Sjerub turned his head, seeing the tall figure of Eneduanna atop the height. Her long hair and robes waved in the wind, but she remained rigid and unmoving.


    ¡®Down I said!¡¯ Kitun growled, kicking Sjerub behind his knee. The mercenary fell down, collapsing onto the dead that stared at him with wide hazy eyes. The flesh was weak, rotten, their skin bursting where his hands landed. Pale maggots crawled over his fingers. Sjerub gagged, then vomited over the corpses as he pushed himself up. He heard the sounds of rope being cut, and saw the other Hurrians being released from their bounds.


    ¡®You do as you¡¯re told. Till nightfall you praise Inanna, till nightfall you thank revered Eneduanna. I assume she will enjoy hearing her name being spoken by such renowned warriors.¡¯


    Kitun left with his men as the Hurrians started warily lining up amongst the dead.


    ¡®Praise!¡¯ Kitun yelled over his shoulder.


    They started slowly, fearful voices speaking the names they were told.


    ¡®Inanna, Enedduanna, Inanna, Enedduanna¡­¡¯


    Sjerub crawled over the corpses, past the murmuring mercenaries. One grabbed his arm.


    ¡®Are we going to die my Lord?¡¯ The warrior whispered, tears in his eyes.


    ¡®We are not.¡¯ Sjerub replied firmly, and he continued. Dead hands grabbed his ankles, they moaned as he moved over their swollen bodies. Long shadows started forming under the orange glow of sunset.


    Birds flew overhead, black feathers slowly drifting down. When he turned his head Sjerub still saw Eneduanna standing on the hill. He yelled at the others kneeling amongst the dead.


    ¡®Louder men. Louder! If you want to live let that tall priestess hear you. Enedduanna is her name, and her Goddess is Inanna. She wishes our oath and our blades, but we need to do penance first.¡¯


    A cry as one of their fallen brethren was recognized among the mass of dead, causing the other Hurrians to swarm together in mourning.


    ¡®Keep saying her name!¡¯ Sjerub ordered. ¡®Our mourning will come tonight.¡¯


    They remained amongst the dead as days light¡¯s diminished. At the onset of darkness different creatures came to feast. Yapping, howling sounds replaced the screeches of birds and the roars of the lion. Packs of Hyenas, laughing in hysterical yelps as they too started to devour.


    Tired voices muttered the names. Their voices were added by the incessant scuttling of insects, spiders and scorpions as they burrowed their eggs in the dead. Last light scattered from a faded red horizon.


    ¡®Cease your voices.¡¯ Sjerub decided. ¡®This is death¡¯s storehouse. Let us not disturb them further.¡¯ They rose from the wet rotting corpses and left.


    At the edge of the barren fields a small figure awaited them. His silhouette was black against the setting sun, now a dim red half orb swallowed by the horizon.


    ¡®Hurrians!¡¯ A gentle voice called out, no traces of aggression or threat within the melodic tones.


    Sjerub squinted his eyes, his hand moving to his knife.


    ¡®Best not approach oathless Hurrians.¡¯ He called back. ¡®Tell me your name stranger.¡¯


    ¡®Come here Hurrian, there is less stench of the dead this way. We can speak in better places, I have waded too close already to that sea of rot.¡¯


    In the last dim rays of the day Sjerub discerned who was addressing him.


    Before him stood a small figure with a large head, as if his torso was somewhat undeveloped. Although bearing the face of a man, somewhat fattened, the figure was dressed and decorated like a precious wife. Sjerub decided to move closer, not recognizing a threat in the lone man-wife.


    As he got closer he saw the stranger¡¯s face whitened by powder, and a small black dot painted above a small red painted mouth. On his head was a voluminous orange-coloured wig whose long curls were held back by golden pins. Chrystals sparkled from droopy earlobes, saggy and elongated by too much weight over too many years.


    ¡®They call me Heabani the beautiful; the flower of the Euphrates. Eneduanna¡¯s eunuch, overseer of the affairs of Uruk.¡¯ Heabani spoke with a soft melodic voice, occasionally rising to high pitched tones. The little eunuch seemed self-content and proud.


    The Hurrian commander before him, caked in filth and drenched in bodily liquids, only kept a frown over his deep-set grey eyes.


    ¡®Eneduanna¡¯s eunuch.¡¯ He stated dismissively. ¡®If I knew what a eunuch was I would be impressed. What do you want, flower-man?¡¯


    Heabani¡¯s soft body repulsed him. No muscles, no rigid form, no power was visible under the eunuch¡¯s dress; A body accustomed to luxury, with excessive decorations to compensate for the effects of time.


    ¡®A eunuch is a man that has been parted from its genitals.¡¯ Heabani replied. ¡®In my case at a very young age. Keeps the voice in eternal youth.¡¯


    Sjerub snorted uneasily. ¡®Have you been sent to us to show what fate awaits? I¡¯d rather choose death than degenerate into a form such as yours.¡¯


    Heabani¡¯s kohl-lined eyes hardened.


    ¡®Dear Hurrian.¡¯ He spoke softly. ¡®It seems you do not fully understand who you are speaking to, so allow me to learn you a very valuable lesson.¡¯ Heabani¡¯s soft almost boyish voice gained a sharp impure edge.


    ¡®I am Eneduanna¡¯s personal eunuch. Each and every man, woman and child of Uruk moves at my command. Never again will you underestimate me. Your body may be tenfold stronger than mine, but let''s be clear, would I want you dead your life will cease. I am Heabani, the collector of whispers. Knives and poisons rest on my lips. Ropes for strangling, weights for drowning; I carry them all on my tongue. Now you remember that name, and know it to be one of the most loyal and trusted servants of Revered Eneduanna.¡¯


    The eunuch gave an irritated sigh, taking up a handkerchief and wiping a few droplets of sweat from his reddened forehead.


    ¡®Eneduanna has taken an interest in you and thus I must deal with you.¡¯ He continued on calmer tone. ¡®Certainly it has become clear to me your level of etiquette and cultural understanding is profoundly lacking, and needs to be improved.¡¯ Heabani¡¯s eyes squinted at the silent Hurrian. ¡®Have you understood anything I have just told you?¡¯


    ¡®I understand your words.¡¯ Sjerub replied. ¡®You are Heabani, eunuch of Eneduanna. I am Sjerub, Chief of the Hurrian band. I hail from the throne of Mount Aratta.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, I know very well who you are.¡¯ Heabani smiled, a small pink tongue flicking between his red painted lips. ¡®I''ll have you know that I''m the one that whispered to Eneduanna to save you lot; That you might be to value to her. Thankfully she saw the wisdom in my words. No need to thank me.


    Let me tell you about our lady Eneduanna. There are things you must understand if you are to - participate - in our society. It is not without reason she is High-priestess of Uruk. Eneduanna is blood of the Gods, will in the flesh of the queen in heaven. Give her the respect and veneration she requires or you will be killed. You will not go against her demands, or you will be killed. The people of Uruk worships the ground her feet have walked on. Do not speak ill of our most Revered one, not even in unguarded moments, for they will tear you apart limb from limb in the streets. I won''t repeat these words so I hope you listen well.¡¯


    ¡®Eneduanna is to be treated with respect.¡¯ Sjerub affirmed.


    ¡®Eneduanna is to be worshipped, like a Godess, because she is Divine.¡¯ Heabani corrected.


    ¡®The Revered one has decided she wants you.¡¯ The eunuch gestured his ringed fingers dismissively at the other mercenaries. ¡®The others can go, and I propose they leave quickly, because the men of Uruk like to hunt. They take trophies in the way of ears. During day-time they would have pursued immediately, but night gives your kin a few hours to increase the distance. Tell your men to go now.¡¯


    Sjerub nodded and ordered the others to leave; Harsh, quick tones. Another command out of many.


    Without any difficulty the remaining Hurrians turned away. Focused like a pack of wolves, too tired to give hearty greetings. They carried their meager possessions and showed their backs, immediately moving back north, to the upper hill-country and far away white peaks from where they had come.


    Heabani gently placed his hand on Sjerub¡¯s arm. ¡®With some luck they might even survive. Now, you are alone, isolated, a ripe exotic fruit ready to pick by Eneduanna¡¯s sacred hand. From here we will march East, into the Kingdom of Larsa - now defenceless without its men. In a few days I expect us to reach the grand river Euphrates. Around the same time the cycle of the moon will be completed. I expect, now I cannot give this as a guarantee, but I indeed expect all conditions for your service to be completed at that time. In the light of the full moon you will bind yourself to the Revered one. You can do it in your own customs, but please try to make it somewhat exciting for the High-priestess. Plain men do not survive long, remember that you will get the full attention of this earth¡¯s Divine. From there she will decide what to do with you.¡¯

 Chapter Three - Soldier of Sin

    <h1>Chapter Three - Soldier of Sin </h1>


    On the sounds of grunting and groaning, with the penetrant scent of sweat under her, Eneduanna¡¯s heavy brass throne was carried forward. It was a large construct, with steps leading to the elevated seat. The ends of the armrests were imprinted with eight pointed stars, dusk and dawn, and the backrest was embedded into a pair of golden wings that arched up behind the High-Priestess. At the sides of the throne, bronze hand grips were added for the twenty male carriers.


    Eneduanna sat upright, heaving up and down on the backs and hands of naked muscular men, their sweating bodies shining in the silver light of a full moon.


    Her dark brown hair was loose and flowed down her shoulders in long curls. Her face was stern, strong chin raised, wide mouth a sliver of contempt.


    But her brown almond eyes, reflective black in night, glinted with expectation. She looked up at the moon.


    Lord of oaths; she remembered the mercenary¡¯s sworn Deity and shook her head dismissively. Allowing this Hurrian to even indulgence in his former traditions felt like a mistake. She had given in to his wishes; A sign of weakness.


    She reminded herself that she was Eneduanna, High-priestess of Inanna. Uruk lay at her feet, desperate masses worked to carry out her commands, thousands struggled and toiled for her pleasure.


    Her throne dipped slightly, accompanied by a dozen groans, as one of the servants collapsed. The others hastily took over the weight and it became level again. Eneduanna glanced over the side, seeing a lifeless body stretched out on the dry soil. The other carriers bowed their heads, keeping their straining sounds to a minimum with clenched jaws.


    Eneduanna hummed attentively down at her servants. ¡®H-m-m-m.¡¯ Contently she read the voluntary suffering in their wavering bodies, exhausted limbs keeping her raised nonetheless.


    This was the way she ruled Uruk, and this was how newcomers should behave.


    Eneduanna asked herself why she was spending precious time on this lone Hurrian warrior.


    Something instinctive urged her not to waste him. There was something about this one, a rare spark in his grey eyes perhaps, maybe his scent, but was unsure what it was. A strange feeling; Uncertainty. Uncomfortable and, ultimately, unacceptable.


    Yet here she was, actively moving to collect the Hurrian into her service, giving him the honour of her personal attention. There must be something worthwhile, she decided.


    Perhaps she would grant him a lifetime of toiling under her seat. She did require a new carrier. There he would work until his heart would give out and discarded at the side of the road like a broken wheel. A high-priestess, a daughter of Inanna, ought not to be concerned with the lesser.


    She noticed his lone silhouette in the distance, a shadowy figure standing at the riverbank. He had not fled, yet, like captured men occasionally did in their foolishness.


    Sometimes her presence was too much for their feeble minds, her figure too intimidating for the uninitiated. Instead of bowing and praying like the others the fools ran like deer, only to be hunted down with joy by her subjects. This one had not ran, but she remembered how he had trembled when she first met him.


    First the fear, then the love, then the worship, Eneduanna thought. She would bind him- to -her and make the Hurrian a slave in all but name; Voluntary servitude. Once she was done with him he would willingly die for her. And he would.


    Men created destinies, lights both small and great dancing through the weaving of fate. They came and went, scattered, wandering to where the wind blew them. But around her was a storm, a vortex, a swirling mass of destinies circling ceaselessly around her tall form. Their energy served her, and she used them as the resource they were.


    As her throne was carried closer to the awaiting Hurrian she decided something was wrong.


    The mercenary was not awaiting on his knees. He was armed with shield and spear, a sword at his hip. A second knife in his belt, and heavy bronze armour covering his body. Instead of staring at her feet this one did not avert his eyes.


    Men had been executed for lesser infractions, yet this one stood upright - without respect and ready to murder. A moment the High-priestess hesitated; the command to halt on her lips.


    She could safely stand back while sending her devoted to stab the lone man to death, riddle his body with arrows, sever it and tear it apart. But she said nothing and under trembling exertions of her carriers she was carried forward the final distance.


    Sjerub. He had managed to make his name known to her, who commanded thousands of nameless men.


    He wore no helmet and his face was illuminated by the moon. He had unkempt dark hair that showed a hint of gold. His fierce grey eyes peered out of shadowy sockets, intense and uncompromising.


    With every heave of the carriers she could see more of the Hurrian.


    His face was sharp, hard, and well defined. A murderer, with the occasional scar pulling on elongated eyebrows, tempered in battle.


    Now that she could see him up close, without the filth and grime of battle, she realized he was surprisingly youthful, only faint stubble the unblemished skin of his cheeks. Who are you? You stranger that has washed into my hands on the tide of blood and rotting brothers. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    His eyes showed little devotion. There was a splash of awe, and a sprinkle of well-hidden fear, but mostly she read predation. A weighing, calculating gaze, assaying her for opportunities and threats; just as he would look upon any other. She searched further, crossing the lines and tiny grooves in his face. There; deep, at the depths of those grey eyes, she found a certain undefined sadness. A hurt, lonely sadness that could easily turn into uncaring mercilessness.


    Eneduanna smiled. This was not the first of such men she had encountered. More rare perhaps, but not unique. They were the subjugators and conquerors of untamed stock, those that against all odds still remained standing at the end of the day, even if they were all that was left.


    She nodded to herself, already enjoying the prospects of domesticating this one. Would he, given the chance, attempt to overpower her? Force himself upon her?


    Time would tell how he would bear the yoke of submission. Her inclination would be that he would bear it badly. But therein lies the challenge. She would break Sjerub of the north, toy with him, she would train this one until the sad Hurrian would be a meek lamb.


    She inspected him in silence for a while, only the blowing of the wind audible as it rustled through the river-side reeds.


    ¡®Bow down!¡¯ She ordered suddenly, raising herself up on the throne. From high she looked down on the man, who reluctantly sank to one knee.


    She shook her head. ¡®Have you not been instructed properly? Has Heabani not told you? By birthright I am the utmost servant of Heaven. I am High-Priestess of the world! Even the elements love me. The wind and the river and the soil tremble when I pass them. And here you are, one that has received my mercy, defiance flashing in your pretty eyes. Are you that eager to die, dear Hurrian?¡¯


    ¡®I stand here before you as requested. How I will serve you is not for me to decide, but do not ask me to be chattel.¡¯


    Eneduanna said nothing. This one did not fear death, but there were worse things than death. She could make sure of it. With her long slender arms she raised the polished wooden box resting at her elongated feet and tossed it carelessly before the half-bowing mercenary.


    ¡®Open it.¡¯


    The Hurrian pulled the wooden box closer and opened the lid:


    Inside, placed on red velvet, was the head of Enmerkar, Lord of Larsa. The skin of the slain King had turned grey. His mouth hung open and his eyes gave an empty stare. Will you fight for me, Hurrians of the North?


    Sjerub said nothing, glanced up at the tall Eneduanna, and closed the box again.


    ¡®Does this please you?¡¯ Eneduanna asked sweetly.


    ¡®I am no longer bound to the fallen King of Larsa. I am free to serve.¡¯ Sjerub replied.


    With a snap of her fingers Eneduanna¡¯s heavy brass throne was carefully lowered to the ground. Eneduanna heard the sighs of relief from her carriers as she stepped onto the dirt with her bare feet, placing them before the kneeling Hurrian. He did not kiss them, nor made motion to caress them. She curled her toes in the sand, then walked past him, long legs moving slowly to the river¡¯s edge. Her large, slender feet made deep imprints in the wet sand. As the water of the Euphrates washed over her toes she looked back over her shoulder.


    ¡®Come.¡¯ She invited innocently, before wading deeper into the river. Her scarlet dress soaked and clung to her skin. The High-priestess continued until the water stood just under her hips.


    The Hurrian followed her over the wet sand into the river. Moonlight silver rippled on the surface as the mercenary disturbed the dark nightly waters.


    Enedduanna gave a content smile as the man joined her in the river. She held out her hand. ¡®Sjerub, come closer.¡¯


    And so he went into the river, the water soon reaching to his waist, seeping through his armour and clothes, weighing him down. His feet stepped over slippery rocks but he kept balance.


    The High-priestess stood a few paces deeper into the river, though her length was still above his.


    ¡®We share the river together. Its waters carry life and the flowers of devotion. Do you feel it?¡¯


    She saw the Hurrian fight with the pull of the river, bracing himself so he wouldn''t be dragged along and drowned in his heavy suit of armour.


    ¡®This river is mine.¡¯ Eneduanna continued. ¡®It loves me and eagerly flows past my skin, and it will lead me to all I need to conquer. Will you become mine, oh Hurrian from the North? Will you carry my banner to the enemies of Inanna and will you place the heads of the unwise Kings at my feet? Come closer so I can hold you.¡¯


    Sjerub took a step deeper, the current increasing.


    ¡®I, Sjerub, son of Mount Aratta, will serve you, High priestess Enedduanna,¡­¡¯ He struggled, the water now reaching his lower chest. ...¡®I will fight for you with the full blessing from the Lord of truth, for I have completed my previous oaths and you respect the customs of my race.¡¯


    The Hurrian lifted a dagger from the waters and Enedduanna felt a sudden hint of fear; an uncomfortable feeling that tingled in her fingers and toes.


    Then his other hand raised through the surface and he placed the dagger on the palm of his hand, making a swift deep cut. He allowed silver illumination of the moon to touch the bleeding wound. ¡®Light of the moon read the truth of our bond. Kusuh, Eternal Lord of oaths, ensure my destruction if I betray my master. Blessed be those that are loyal. I am now yours, Revered Eneduanna, and all those against you are my enemy.¡¯


    He spoke without eagerness, but truth was seldom cause for joy.


    Once again Eneduanna noticed a sadness lingering over the Hurrian. His emotions tasted bitter-sweet on her tongue; the essence of life. She leaned forward with ignited passion.


    Her slender fingers reached for him under water and pulled him closer. The water rose, but he complied. She wrapped her arms around him as if in loving embrace, feeling his armoured body against her.


    And now you come with me. Enedduana stepped backwards, dragging him deeper. She kept her gaze fixed on him and he could not avert his mesmerised eyes. Another step, and the waters came to his chin.


    Mine, mine, and mine alone. Another step and the river flowed at the edge of his lips. He was at her mercy and she smiled. ¡®In our tongue the name of your truthkeeper is Sin; The Lord of the moon, so visible this night. Let him lend his power to my cause.¡¯


    She took another step backwards, submerging him in the river. He resisted as she pulled him under, but her long arms held him below water. He was blind in the darkness, water rushed past his ears. His lungs pressed, then started screaming.


    She held him down, baptising him, enjoying his increasingly desperate attempts to escape her hold. His heavy armour filled with water and he was helpless.


    When his movements weakened and struggle ceased she pulled him back up, the Hurrian immediately breaking through the surface. He gasped for breath as water streamed out his nose and mouth.


    ¡®Kill for me, Soldier of Sin.¡¯ She whispered in his ear, kissing him gently.

 Chapter Four - Gates of Larsa

    <h1 dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 20pt; margin-bottom: 6pt">Chapter Four - Gates of Larsa</h1>


    Drums rang out as Eneduanna was carried forward, her throne hovering over the road on sweaty hands and exhausted backs.


    The sky was a deep summer¡¯s blue and the sun was bringing the heat of high noon.


    Eneduanna sat lustlessly in her throne, back slumped and legs stretched out, arms hanging limply over the armrests. Scorching rays wrung her out, but she would not hide under leaves and parasols - not today, as she entered the Kingdom of Larsa.


    Behind her marched a mass of red-clothed warriors, bronze conical helmets shining in the sun. Long lines of them, their great number forming a red serpent that stretched out from Uruk and into the Larsan plains.


    She could see it awaiting in the distance; proud Larsa, the formidable city rising on the flat grasslands.


    The Kingdom of the sun, walls built high and thick with undecorated tan-coloured bricks, scars from previous wars showing. Behind the walls a great ziggurat arose from the heart of Larsa, a mountain-like pyramid built from white stone; the temple to their sun-god. The ziggurat reflected the sunlight and Eneduanna was forced to avert her eyes.


    By the time they reached the Larsan ramparts, the city''s gates had already been closed and sealed.


    ¡®Oh Larsa I have come to punish you for your sins!¡¯ She called with dry voice, still slumped in her throne. She raised a hand, halting the long-stretched out columns of her devoted at her back. The drums stopped, the marching feet stood still. At her flanks banner-carriers stepped forward, holding long poles with long rectangular flags; black fabric with golden eight-pointed stars. A wind swept up, causing the banners to dance and angrily pull on their bounds. Fifteen banners fanning out at each at each side, heralding the arrival of the High-Priestess of Uruk at the gates of Larsa.


    The red-clothed men ebbed out behind her, thousands of warriors lining up on the plains. They too held their standards; their images of Eneduanna, and roses and lions rising between their many spears.


    Nothing but a formality, neduanna decided. She had sown the barren borderlands thick with corpses, and now this Kingdom had no men left to defend itself. But the walls of Larsa were mighty, and there would be no entry as long as the gates remained closed.


    Reluctantly she pushed herself up, showing her true length in all its towering glory to her followers, causing them all to kneel.


    ¡®Uruk, see the city that stands before you! I have led you to a Kingdom of disbelievers. They have tried to destroy me. Oh, Uruk, what will you do with those that go against your High-Priestess? Rise, Rise, and let the sinner hear your accusations.¡¯


    A general rumble erupted from the lined up warriors, clattering their arms against their shields, throats bellowing out a hateful cheer. Above their voices great copper trumpets started blowing, imposing tones that sailed over the noise of the masses; a shining golden edge over the black and red accusations. Under the guide of the trumpets, the Urukian uncontrolled and undirected voices slowly took shape in the form of Eneduanna. Soon all they repeated was their mistress name, the plain rhythmically filled with Eneduanna - Eneduanna - Eneduanna.


    Eneduanna enjoyed their devotion and hoped that this display of her power would be enough to open the gates; the great city intimidated by the violence she had amassed around her, awed by the appearance of the tall High-Priestess on her great brass throne.


    She waited, mouth becoming dry in the heat of day; Nothing happened, the walls soaked up the sounds and replied with silence.


    Eneduanna¡¯s wide mouth slowly took the form of displeasure, her chin jutting forward, teeth grinding. She reseated herself.


    The lined up masses ejected a rider. A mounted warrior, one hand holding the reigns of seething, foam-mouthed pale horse of black manes, the other hand holding the flag of the eight pointed star - one out of a thousand.


    The horse stamped its hooves in the earth and kicked his hind legs, another attempt to throw Sjerub from the saddle, but the Hurrian pressed his heels against the beast¡¯s pale-flanks and held the reigns tightly.


    Sjerub gritted his teeth, he had ridden the horse for a single day and already wanted to dispose of his mount. The beast was Uruk-bred; a half mad - half wild horse gathered from the limited Royal stables. Uruk was a barren land, its soil producing nothing but salt and its animals disinclined to serve man. The beast was called Mardu, and on its backside was branded:


    : Lightning


    It had been a gift from the High-Priestess, so he was forced to keep himself in the despised saddle, enduring the occasional bout of buckling madness the horse would bring whenever it deemed its Hurrian rider inattentive and tired.


    He rode past the red infantry lines of Urukian warriors. Savage weapons were raised to him, accompanied by roars. The throne of Eneduanna shined ahead, surrounded by the high black and gold star banners.


    ¡®Dont buckle now, Mardu.¡¯ Sjerub said, tense jaw clenched. ¡®-Please.¡¯ He added.


    Besides the untamed horse, the revered one had gifted him new attire. The Hurrian had exchanged his heavy bronze armour and bloodstained rags for loose-fitting orange robes that reached to his knees. A white traveler¡¯s hood and scarf hung over his shoulders, now lowered to show his clean shaven face. Around his grey eyes were rings of black kohl.


    Sjerub managed to halt his horse before the High-priestess, thanking the heavens for calming the beast. The High-priestess made eye-contact with her envoy.


    ¡®Hurrian.¡¯ She noted, making a reserved nod at the mounted warrior.


    Her long arm extended towards the city and he bowed his head in understanding. With swift movement he turned his unruly mount and rode towards the gates.


    The eight pointed star of Inanna shook in the wind as Sjerub spurred his horse to greater speed. The banner of Enedduanna still felt strange in his hands, but he raised it to the great walls of Larsa nonetheless. It brought the command of the High-Priestess, whom he now served.


    Submit, Larsa. Submit to her divine will.


    Mardu neighed loudly as Sjerub kicked his heels in the wild horse¡¯s flank. Powerful beast, bring me to the gate of Larsa with pride, show them I am not afraid of their arrows, let Inanna¡¯s star dance with violence.


    He saw the Larsans on the walls aim their bows but he ignored them. Sjerub doubted they would kill an envoy, and now was not the time for uncertainty. The Hurrian staggered his pale horse before the gate, looking up at the men guarding the wall; defying them.


    Nervous eyes looked back at the envoy below, rigid in the saddle while the hooves of his horse slammed back to the dirt.


    The Larsans held grey and white beards, or no beards at all, reddened cheeks carrying helmets twice their age. These people are hopeless, Sjerub thought, reaching into his saddlebag and taking out the severed head of their King, and his former employer, by the hair.


    He held it high for all to see, then tossed the head irreverently against the gate.


    Enmerkar¡¯s head banged against the wood, then rolled a few paces over the dirt until it stopped face up with grey skin and empty eyes, grains of sand in his beaded beard. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡®Your King is dead!¡¯ Sjerub proclaimed. ¡®The high-priestess of Inanna commands you to surrender!¡¯ He cantered his horse unpatiently back and forth before the gate. How Enedduanna will favor him if he would hand her the city.


    Dry stalks, yellowed grasses his horse crushed. A dozen arrows were still pointed at him, but Sjerub remained calm as he waited. He saw how their bows trembled.


    Eventually a new face leaned over the edge of the wall. An old man, heavy chains of silver hanging from his neck.


    ¡®Your King is dead!¡¯ Sjerub repeated. ¡®The high-priestess of Inanna commands you to surrender! Have you considered, and are ready to give me reply?¡¯


    ¡®To you, messenger of Eneduanna, we say no. Tell your high priestess this city will not fall to her clutches.¡¯


    ¡®Surrender!¡¯ Sjerub repeated, venom in his voice. ¡®You have n¨® hope, Larsa. Your men have been slaughtered, even the sun has been subdued by the power of the High-Priestess. Enedduanna is of the blood of the divine. She is the Revered one! A Goddess stands before your gates, and you decide to reject her?¡¯


    ¡®I have given you my answer...¡¯ The man said, voice resigned with deep sadness. The old man knew very well what fate he consigned his city to, but for whatever reason he rejected.


    Sjerub grimaced, spat on the ground and turned Mardu¡¯s reigns.


    Enedduana awaited him, still seated on her throne that rested on the shoulders of a multitude of softly groaning servants.


    The Hurrian rider returned in a cloud of dust. Her gaze pulled him from his horse and Sjerub kneeled down on the dried summer soil.


    ¡®What did they say?¡¯ Her warm voice enveloped him.


    ¡®They are stubborn, most Revered one.¡¯


    ¡®I want the city as soon as possible, Hurrian.¡¯ She craned her neck forward.


    ¡®Get me inside.¡¯ Her longing voice commanded. ¡®-I want to enter.¡¯


    Sjerub stood upright, back straight, and drew his sword. The outstretched lines of warriors at Eneduanna¡¯s flanks stirred, but remained in position.


    His grey eyes hardened. ¡®I will give you the city. I ask permission to show cruelty. Their understanding must be aided.¡¯


    ¡®You have permission to show cruelty without bounds, for it is what they will receive if you dont get their gates open. You are my hand of mercy, my voice of reason.¡¯


    The warm summer¡¯s day passed into evening, the sun lowering on the horizon and only a sliver of orange light touching the top of Larsa¡¯s walls, a chasm of dark shadow underneath. The first star appeared in the rapidly darkening heaven; Inanna¡¯s sign.


    Sjerub had waited for this. His robes were filthy, sweat of the day accumulated in the fabric. Fine dust had found its way into the creases of his skin, and the kohl around his eyes had smeared away.


    All day he had ridden across the dry plain in front of the gates, calling on Larsa to surrender. When they had not given reply he had challenged them to a duel, his voice taunting the Larsans until it was sore and the sun had slowered.


    Now his long brown hair was wet and hung down to his shoulders in sweaty strands. The filth that covered his skin did not matter to Sjerub, tonight he would not be in Eneduanna¡¯s attendance. This night would be one of cruelty.


    His feet were planted firmly on the road towards the gate, the doors to the city a good hundred paces straight ahead. Besides him a man with sun-darkened skin was bound to a stake.


    The prisoner had the signs of exhaustion on his face and a dribble of blood ran from his mouth; his tongue had already been cut out due to his blasphemies. His hands were tied together by the wrists and fastened to the wooden stake with rough rope.


    Sjerub raised a clay jar to the prisoner. Out poured a colourless liquid, strong of odour, flowing over the captives head until his skin and hair was drenched.


    ¡®Torch.¡¯ Sjerub calmly stated, and a priestess in red-dress carefully handed over a torch - hands trembling slightly. She was young, skin pale, a bald shaven head visible under her hood; an initiate, tasked to aid the Hurrian in his works. An excited smile was fixed on her innocent face and her eyes showed eagerness.


    She touched the prisoner, gently caressing the Larsan¡¯s thick hair. The young priestess leaned closer, bringing her lips to the prisoner¡¯s ear. ¡®You have a last chance to repent. It won''t matter much for the outcome, you are going to die anyway, but you might save your soul. Accept Eneduanna¡¯s divinity.¡¯


    The Larsan kept his bloody mouth closed and his head didn¡¯t move an inch.


    She sighed through his nose, shaking his head dismissively. ¡®Very well. Then burn, disbeliever. Die a sinner.¡¯ She nodded at the Hurrian.


    Sjerub had no joy in his face. He did not enjoy the suffering he would create.


    His sad grey eyes were fixed on his victim. This was Eneduanna¡¯s will, he thought, lowering the torch to the prisoner - now desperately struggling in his bounds.


    Once close enough, the flames eagerly jumped the distance from torch to oil-drenched man. Fire rapidly spread over the captive, igniting his hair and skin, turning the man in a human candle.


    Tormented screams emerged from the man¡¯s burning mouth. Tongueless screams.


    With his sword he cut the rope that bound the man to the stake. Immediately the burning man surged forward, running in instinctive desperation with bright flames dancing over his skin. He got a few steps towards Larsa until he collapsed and fell, his corpse burning out as the flames gradually reduced.


    Sjerub continued to the next stake, another Larsan captive now squirming in his bounds. Before he could beg Sjerub already drenched and ignited him, immediately releasing him with his sword.


    This burning man got further, a good twenty heartbeats, until he crumpled like a disregarded doll.


    Sjerub¡¯s torch reached out to the third, then the fourth, then the fifth, sending out burning men to Larsa one by one. Their screams resonated and died against the dark walls of the city.


    With slow patient steps Sjerub arrived to the sixth prisoner, pleading in tears for his life. This one still had his tongue, and his words were pathetic.


    Sjerub poured the oil over him until the man¡¯s hair dripped and his skin gave a slick shine in the orange light of his fire. He hovered his sparking torch near the man, inducing a last moment of terror before lowering it again.


    ¡®I allow you to live.¡¯ The Hurrian said. ¡®In return you will tell them that Enedduana, High-priestess of Inanna, commands Larsa to surrender. You will say that Eneduanna is the Revered one. You will say a Godess stands before their gates, and that they have one last chance to surrender. This surrender must be absolute, unnegotiable. This is the Mercy Eneduanna offers. At dawn the doors will be open, or the cruelty will be for all of you.¡¯


    The prisoner nodded, still staring at the lowered torch. Each spark made him flinch.


    Sjerub leaned closer. ¡®One last thing. Do you repent your sins, do you affirm your belief in Eneduanna¡¯s Divinity?¡¯


    ¡®I do. I do. I swear I worship.¡¯ The man stammered with tears in his eyes.


    Sjerub swung down his sword, cutting the rope and releasing the wet naked man.


    He ran towards Larsa and disappeared in the dark.


    For a while Sjerub listened to his desperate banging on the heavy cedar gates of the city. Then he went to his tent and sleep overtook him.


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    A mosquito landed over Sjerub¡¯s heart. He moved to strike, but Enedduanna¡¯s voice reached him first. ¡®Let it drink.¡¯ Her honeycomb voice spoke.


    The parasite filled up, gorging on his blood. Its sack swollen the mosquito released from his skin, the high pitched whine of its wings audible as it flew away. Enedduanna stood before him now and her hand reached out. She circled her fingers and the insect moved towards her awaiting grasp. More mosquitoes came, flying from other directions into her aura.


    Sjerub felt weakened, and looking down from where he was bitten a stream of blue blood poured out. He saw his body was covered with wounds and gashes, his skin ripped open crudely, out streaming blue.


    Enedduanna now held the insect, squeezing it with her hand. She opened her mouth, her white teeth flashing and her tongue lunging out. Blood dripped between her fingers and onto her tongue. She tasted with joy. Then she brought him to a bath, and when he sat with her the water turned to blood, now bright red and thick, bubbling up until it overflowed over the edges.

 Chapter Five - Sacred Command

    <h1>Chapter Five - Sacred Command</h1>


    Dawn arrived on the second day of besieged Larsa. The red war camps slowly awakened, the first cooking-fires were started in tranquil morning. It was still cool as Sjerub rode towards Larsa. He had hoped his cruelty on the Larsan prisoners would have had an effect. That the hopeless within the walls would have reconsidered. A hope that they would have surrendered and that he would find the gates of the city wide open.


    But in first light Sjerub saw the prisoner he had released during the night. Still naked, the oil-drenched Larsan hung by rope from the city gates. His neck had snapped sideways in the tight noose and the hangman was slowly swaying in the wind before the closed doors. A pair of black crows were already digging their beaks into the man¡¯s flesh. A third bird quickly swooped down to join the meal.


    Sjerub held in his horse, cursing softly. He shook his head at the defiant city. Further negotiation was useless.


    ***


    Cool dawn turned to dusty, scorching heat. An azure, cloudless heaven, and a hazy, dry earth below. Eneduanna¡¯s throne was sheltered by palm-leaves and cloths. Around it stood her followers, skin burning in the scalding sunlight of high-summer.


    Sjerub, in his white and orange attire of an Uruk envoy, lay outstretched before her throne - outside the shadow.


    ¡®Forgive me, sacred priestess.¡¯ His eyes were trained on Eneduanna¡¯s elongated feet, hovering before his head ¡®-They will not surrender.¡¯ His voice was a quiver, almost a whisper, afraid to convey the words to his mistress.


    Eneduanna stared at the hangman in the distance, nothing but dry soil between her and the city-gates.


    ¡®There is nothing to forgive, Hurrian. This outcome is more preferable. Larsa can now be made an example off so the rest can see. This won''t be the last city I will visit.¡¯ Enedduanna shifted uneasily in her throne, somewhat disgusted by the man before her. ¡®-But you have failed.¡¯


    She took a deep, dissatisfied breath.


    ¡®You promised me the city. Where then is my city?¡¯


    Sjerub tried to reply but Eneduanna¡¯s harsh tone cut through his stammering.


    ¡®-You have failed the Divine.¡¯ She straightened her back against the golden wings of her throne.


    ¡®You are an utter failure. By Inanna be glad I do not order you to death at this very moment. Leave, leave quickly.¡¯


    Sjerub bit his lip and crawled backwards.


    ¡®OUT OF MY SIGHT!¡¯ She thundered as she deemed his crawling to slow, and in the distance the black birds flew up from the hangman.


    Sjerub receded back. Mocking eyes watched him, the servants, the slaves, joying in his humiliation.


    Eneduanna drew in the hot dry air of the Larsan plains. Her heart was beating a steady-strot, the ignited rage within her did not abate. She needed appeasement. Blood needed to flow before calmness would return.


    ¡®Wait.¡¯ She commanded the Hurrian.


    Sjerub halted, still on hands and knees, halfway across the dirt towards his horse.


    ¡®Revered one.¡¯ He breathed into the sand, and slowly he raised his face towards her.


    Eneduanna took his features in again, revisiting the lines of his face. A warrior¡¯s face, unmistakably, but there was something soft in it, an artistic whim, coming solely from the eyes; the eyes of a poet, going so well with that distinct melancholy.


    The Hurrian was still kneeling, awaiting her command.


    Eneduanna pouted her lips. ¡®Lower.¡¯ She ordered her carriers, who placed her throne on the ground with audible relief.


    She stepped on the earth and her long arm gestured at the Hurrian to rise. Then she pointed at one of the carriers, standing idly besides the throne.


    ¡®Kill him.¡¯ She told the Hurrrian flatly.


    Sjerub looked up at the tall High-Priestess standing before him. His eyes said: why? But his mouth was wiser, saying: ¡®I have no weapon, mistress.¡¯


    Eneduanna ignored the Hurrian¡¯s words, turning to the awaiting carrier. His naked muscular figure was shiny with sweat. ¡®Kill this Hurrian!¡¯ She screeched.


    ¡®For you, everything, Revered one.¡¯ The servant proclaimed, before being handed a knife from a nearby guard. With a wild yell he charged the unarmed Hurrian, who stood in the long shadow of Eneduanna.


    Sjerub cursed silently, mere days into the service of the High-Priestess and he already had to fight for his life.


    The carrier was running towards him at full speed, knife raised high - bronze blade catching the glint of the sun. Thighs like trunks, biceps like boulders, with his naked member dangling about with every step. The tall woman had ordered the hulking carrier to murder, and clearly he would follow her commands blindly.


    Sjerub saw the knife approach and instinctively stepped sideways, the blade slashing his shadow.


    Luckily for him the naked carrier was not well-trained in combat. His movements were clumsy, predictable, though beholden with great power.


    Another slash and the bronze knife-edge cut the air before Sjerub¡¯s face. Drums of rage started beating within the Hurrian. This senseless hunk of meat was trying to murder him, and worst of all, the High-Priestess would see it all.


    With a wild bark he threw himself forward into wildly lunging man.


    The two of them fell to the ground, Sjerub finding the sweaty body of his opponent slippery and hard to grapple. The strength of his opponent, already evident by the muscles, was surprisingly great.


    A body that had carried near-unbearable weight day after day, for years. All without complaining, without giving up, the mind as hardened as the body.


    The two men punched and clawed, cursed and bit. The knife soon reappeared, but Sjerub managed to keep the point at bay. Struggling on the ground, he glanced up at the nearby standing Eneduanna - She watched in silence to see who would come out on top, her long shadow falling over the two gladiators.


    And then they disentangled and rose again. The carrier, singular in his goal to kill, immediately lunged his knife forward again, forcing his opponent to evade.


    Sjerub spat out blood , the result of an earlier fist to his face. Nearby he saw a hand-sized rock on the ground, and seeing no better alternative he quickly picked it up. Its dark surface had absorbed the heat from the sun¡¯s rays and it was searing hot and blistering to his fingers, but he held it anyway because it was all he got. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    With the next evaded stab he struck back with the rock. The blunt force connected to the man¡¯s nose. The sweaty maniac only staggered slightly, and the next moment Sjerub felt a slash of pain over his arm, the brute¡¯s knife slicing a good few inches through his skin.


    Sjerub roared in pain and anger. This mule-man, empty-headed beast of the field, had to die.


    Again he smashed with the rock, directly striking the head a second time, and the carrier finally fell backwards. The Hurrian stalked after him. No mercy.


    Sjerub jumped atop the naked carrier, pinning him down with his knee while his hand raised a final time, a black stone on the backdrop of a white-hot sun.


    The sharp edge of the rock struck at the temple where the bone was thinnest and the skull cracked open. The carrier kept struggling, so Sjerub struck again, and again, until his robes and face and hair were bespattered with brain and blood. Sjerub tasted iron in his mouth.


    ¡®Enough.¡¯ Eneduanna said strictly.


    Breathing heavily the Hurrian turned his head at her. Blood-rage pumped through his veins, and it took a moment before his red triumph had faded and his mind returned. Solemnly he bowed his head towards the Revered one.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t he do well?¡¯ She asked the nearby attendants and courtiers. ¡®Show your admiration to his performance.¡¯


    Around, the onlookers applauded - even the other carriers. They had fake smiles on their faces. The Hurrian watched them with distrust.


    ¡®Anything else, Revered one?¡¯ He asked hoarsely. He was still holding the rock, and blood slowly dripped to the sand.


    ¡®Your arm is bleeding. Leave my presence and attend to your wounds.¡¯


    The Hurrian bowed and turned away.


    Content, Eneduanna reseated herself on her throne, immediately raised from the earth by her surviving carriers.


    Ants surrounded the imprints of her feet in the sand. A black circle, ceaselessly moving in an endless loop; a collective of insects maddened by the lingering presence of the High-Priestess.


    ***


    Sjerub sat in his quarters. A simple tent holding a hard bed and a small plot of stamped earth. Around him he heard the camp-sounds, talking and laughing, the ting of cooking pans, a distant hammering as something was constructed.


    Other tents surrounded him and a narrow alley between the endless red canvases ran before his entrance. Uruk warriors constantly stamped past his tent, but they had left him alone. They didn''t like him, and he didn''t like them, and Sjerub liked it that way. He listened to their drunken singing, their guttural laughter, an angry exchange somewhere. He had faced them in battle, now they were his allies. Such was the fate of the mercenary, Sjerub grimly decided.


    His bronze armour stood on a rack beside his bed. Forged in Aratta, blessed by Kusuh.


    As he looked upon the armoured frame he was reminded of the massacre on the barren fields. He smelled the rotting bodies and heard the screeching vultures feasting on the corpses. With disgust he averted his head.


    Besides the armor his weapons were arrayed; The spear and the shield, the sword, his mountain-bow, a threefold of knives, and now a rock. He had used all to kill. Why he had kept the rock he couldn¡¯t say, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to discard it either.


    A fresh bandage was wrapped around his arm, only a numb pain emanating from the wound. It would heal properly.


    He heard footsteps approaching through the dusty alley, and to his unease the footsteps halted before his entrance. Under the flap of the tent he could sandals worn by hairy calloused toes.


    A moment later the fabric was pulled aside and Sjerub was stood ready with a dagger.


    Two red-clothed warriors stared at him, stringed ears hanging from their necks.


    Sjerub stared back, fingers tightening around the hilt of his dagger.


    ¡®What do you want? I''m tired of spilling your kind¡¯s blood.¡¯


    Their bearded jaws jutted forward as they inspecting him, but they said nothing. One held a wooden club studded with bronze spikes. The other had his large hand on the hilt of his sword.


    The thought crossed Sjerub¡¯s mind that the High-Priestess had a change of mind and ordered his death anyway, and that these two brutes had been sent to execute.


    He bared his teeth as he prepared for more death, but then Sjerub smelled the scent of roses and the two broad warriors stepped aside to make way for a small man dressed in flower robes.


    ¡®My, my. Aren''t you tense.¡¯ Heabani taunted. The eunuch nodded at his guards, and the two scarred hulks left the tent.


    Sjerub relaxed as the warriors left, lowering his knife. ¡®I have already fought to the death once today. I think my tension is well-founded.¡¯


    Heabani red-painted mouth smiled broadly. ¡®So I have heard. Sadly I had not been present to witness such an exciting contest. But news spreads quickly through the camps. It seems you have established somewhat of a reputation throughout the ranks. They call you ¡®the red Hurrian¡¯. Now I have been wise enough to decree a non-violence proclamation upon you, or there would be scores of warriors eager to test your might and thus prove themselves to the Revered one. The greater the prey, the greater the trophy, and your ears my Hurrian friend, have become quite the coveted item. Nevertheless, you shouldn¡¯t have to worry - for the time being. You have my, and the Revered one¡¯s protection. But watch yourself, Red Hurrian, you might have saved your own life but your actions have still displeased the High-Priestess. She asked you to open the gates of Larsa and you failed.¡¯


    Sjerub shook his head. ¡®The Larsans are prideful into death. They hold to their laws like a mother clings to her child. It is not my fault.¡¯


    Heabani raised his painted eyebrows in surprise. ¡®It is not? The High-Priestess gave you a sacred task.


    Man have been killed for far, far lesser infractions than failing one of Eneduanna¡¯s seemingly impossible demands. And yet, I have seen men go far and beyond to what they thought was capable, and bring success where it was thought to be impossible before. For now you remain the High-Priestess official envoy, but negotiation is over. The task to delivering Larsa unto Eneduanna has been passed to Kitun, King of Uruk. I think you two have met, yes?¡¯


    ¡®We have met.¡¯ Sjerub said stiffly.


    Heabani nodded. ¡®Good. Larsa¡¯s fate is sealed. Kitun will deliver them to Eneduanna¡¯s cruelty and he will purge their misplaced arrogance with fire and blood. This city will be a burnt-out ruin by the next moon-cycle. I hope that you will be able to change the mind of the next reluctant city for the better. Cities and Kingdoms intact are of better service to the Revered one. Now, obviously, if you fail again in this matter I cannot assure your safety.¡¯


    ¡®Another bout of blood?¡¯ Sjerub glanced at the rock, bits of hair and clotted blood sticking to its jagged surface.


    ¡®I wouldn¡¯t take the risk sweetheart.¡¯ Heabani wetted his lips. ¡®There has, however, been another request from the blessed Revered one. You may be able to regain just a sliver of favor from the grand mistress.¡¯


    ¡®What does she ask of me? My skills are death and survival.¡¯


    Heabani chuckled. ¡®How fierce you are, Sjerub, but no, no killings today. You have done plenty already. What she asks is mere information. Her tall form leaned over to me and whispered in my ear the following question: ¡®why are the Hurrian¡¯s eyes so sad?¡¯


    ¡®Sad?¡¯ Sjerub asked, frowning.


    ¡®She has seen within your grey eyes deep grief and sadness. Do you doubt her wisdom? Now you must speak, it is not a request, it is a command.¡¯


    Sjerub¡¯s eyes hardened. ¡®I have lost my men. Any warrior would be sad and grieving that had lost his brothers, let alone a commander. Because that was who I was; a commander of a hundred Hurrian men. They depended on me and I led them into death.¡¯


    ¡®But not all.¡¯ Heabani interceded. ¡®A few escaped.¡¯


    ¡®Not all, but most. And their souls are now my responsibility. May the heavens forgive me, I left them there on those horrid sweltering, rotting plains of flies and feathers.¡¯


    Heabani nodded. ¡®Those that lived and left, do you wish to know what happened to them?¡¯


    ¡®You tell me, do I?¡¯


    ¡®Oh dont be so sullen, Sjerub. I have whisperers throughout the River Kingdoms. They are steadily making their way towards the north. They speak of Aratta.¡¯ Heabani¡¯s painted eyes narrowed. ¡®How does that make you feel?¡¯


    ¡®Content.¡¯ Sjerub¡¯s mind went to the misty peaks of his youth, the white mountains that went so high that they merged with heavens, and the warm green valleys sheltered under the mountain¡¯s protection.


    ¡®And I have heard another whisper¡­¡¯ Heabani continued. ¡®-That you are a princeling of sorts. Does the rumor hold true? Am I in the presence of royal blood?¡¯


    ¡®Do you see a crown on my head? My hair is long and filthy. My skin is scarred. My eyes have not seen treasuries or palatial joy, only countless battles, and every time I am more alone. What kind of prince would sell his sacred loyalty for gold?¡¯


    ¡®Answer the question, Sjerub.¡¯ Heabani said as he inched closer. ¡®You and your men were not without reason in the River Kingdoms, selling yourself for desperate coin. I think you were longer welcome in the court of the mountains, so I ask; Is it your kin that sits on the throne of the Aratta, or is it foreign blood that has exiled you from your birthright?¡¯


    ¡®I care not for the throne, nor of that city of traitors. Let them freeze in the blizzards, let the mountains rumble and bring their fortresses down, let them be preyed upon by the leopard and the harpy. My fate lies elsewhere now.¡¯


    ¡®Indeed, my dear Hurrian, Your fate lies with the Revered one. You have satisfied my inquiries and I will relay your words to her. How pleased she will be to know she has acquired a Princeling as servant. My, my, what a bargain you have been, and all thanks to me.¡¯ The eunuch smiled self-contently and left Sjerub in his tiny, primitive tent.

 Chapter Six - Crumbling walls

    <h1>Chapter Six - Crumbling walls</h1>


    It was dusk, the sky in the east already dark and Larsa submerged into the black of night.


    To the west, the sky was a weakening red above the horizon. At the border of dying day and resurgent night, the lone star of Inanna shone in heaven; The lightbringer.


    The Queen of Heaven demanded war.


    The sound of clanking gears, the intricacies of machines built from bronze and timber; siege engines, hurling destruction at the city. Stones and jagged rock were released from moaning wooden constructions before smashing into the defences. Scorpion mechanisms spat metal spikes at the battered battlements, seeking to impale flesh. The snap of the whip as sweat drenched slaves scurried to reload.


    Eneduanna slowly passed the engines, reveling in the power they wielded.


    She had left behind her throne, instead walking bare feet over the dry expectant earth.


    Wherever she went the whip lashed out tenfold, man¡¯s suffering increased. Their painful groans delighted her as they worked to the point of exhaustion and collapse.


    Each release caused Larsa¡¯s outer layer to shake and crumble, stone by stone. Pulverised dust rose from the walls, indentations and cracks visible, but for the time being the city endured.


    Its defenders, whatever the city managed to arm in haste, had been sent up in masse and now occupied the walls.


    The stubborn Larsans held on, their helmeted heads ducking everytime a projectile screamed overhead, whilst their spears bristled in defiance.


    Enedduana closed her eyes and listened to hear if Larsa spoke - like they had done on the barren fields. But above the din of creaking machines, the whips and the screams, and the thunderous impacts of the rocks she heard nothing.


    No Utu was called from thousands of throats, no Lord of the Sun and Justice was invoked this evening.


    Then it had caused her great discomfort in the searing, oppressive heat. But now the day was faltering, cool air on her skin, and her victim-city was silent as it endured.


    The Larsans no longer sang the name of their Lord. Their pride and eagerness had disapeared, lost with the men - their fathers, brothers and husbands - that had marched out and never came back. Their lack of united voice showed Eneduanna that no hope remained behind those great walls.


    Yet still they refused her will. The gates remained closed. They dared.


    The tiny amassed faces of the defenders followed her every step, still peeking out as projectiles targeted them, braving the torrent that was hurled towards them just to look at her figure in the distance. Even they could not help but give her their complete attention.


    Would their masters had not been there to force them to fight they would have thrown themselves at her feet like all the others. Sadly for them the right to worship her feet had to be earned.


    All men should be used purposely, and the purpose of the resisting Larsans was that of being an example. All the Kingdoms would learn the price of defiance.


    Going beyond the amassed siege engines she moved towards the very doorways to the city.


    A reinforced gatehouse, fortified and manned, thick stone barriers shrugging off the rock that hammered it continuously.


    On the open dirt before it a sea of red cloth and bronze armour, already awaiting her arrival on their hands and knees. Hundreds, thousands, their backs turned to the cowering defenders.


    The mass of submitted men stretched out far and wide. They were silent in their obedience towards her, while a dusty wind blew over their backs.


    She stood before them, far taller than any man in their midst, and let the moment of submission linger on. Their minds were willingly dedicated towards her will. Their work, their struggle, their suffering, it served none but Eneduanna.


    ¡®Rise!¡¯ She finally commanded, her tall arms stretching out with palms upwards.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    The prostrated army of Uruk rose from the ground. Banners ascending with the men; eight-pointed stars, many figures of Inanna both crude and refined, and imagery of lions and roses.


    Uruk¡¯s most violent, many carrying ears around their necks taken from previous victims, trembled before her. They shook with the miasma of fear, reverence and desire, as well as the built-up eagerness to kill in her name.


    Soon they would let it all out, but they were not ready just yet. A final ritual to complete the spell of madness before they would tear apart Larsa.


    This evening she spoke no sorcerous words, that had already been done; her tongue sick of speaking prayers and incantations.


    The final ritual was one delivered in the form of alcohol, in mind altering herbs and vials, in toxins and low-dosed poisons. Ingested, inhaled, injected, given out by her priestesses.


    These women in red, scarlet sisterhood, directly serving under Eneduanna herself, had whispered lies and truths and anything they wished to implant in the ears of the men.


    During the campaign the warriors of Uruk endured the sisterhood¡¯s endless manipulations, and by now their hatred for Larsan life was set in stone.


    During the march the priestesses had remained covered up in precious fabrics, their fair and soft skin hidden from the men.


    Now they emerged from their dresses, completely naked save the white masks they wore over their faces. Objects of lust, carrying blessed amphora of altering states.


    All was done to summon what lies deep within every man, turning them into the beasts that the High-priestess needed.


    The masked women pressed against the warriors with their skin, touching and caressing.


    They Incited - besides the fury and the anger - also the lust; Unbridled want.


    And the warriors, losing control of themselves, surrounded the women, fondling their bodies and grabbed with their hard fingers.


    In response the priestesses receded and left, laughing dismissively; Suddenly forbidden for the warrior¡¯s touch.


    Denied their needs and with veins increasingly coursing with intoxicating substance, the men of Uruk now turned into the creatures Eneduanna wanted.


    Their eyes glassy, hazy, reflective like night-time animals.


    Their lusts became a singular goal, and the eagerness to kill and conquer to fulfill their ignited needs became an absolute will.


    The masked priestesses took up whips, punishing the men for their intrusive touch.


    Howls of pain and anger, the warriors turned away from the torturous lash and were driven towards the city. They needed not more incitement. They saw what had to be done, and to whom.


    ***


    Uruk came upon Larsa like a red wave, a consuming tide, tearing down the stones and the men that stood upon it.


    Eneduanna looked on with joy as men clambered up with ladders and hooks. She noted tiny figures falling from the heights, helpless flailing limbs, red cloth flappering during the rapid descent and then the bottom, an unmoving broken body.


    It had no effect on the fanaticism of her men. They chanted at the base, they fought atop the wall.


    Larsa was under assault, she would see how long it would resist.


    ***


    There was one group not yet moving. They sat tightly together, kneeling, with their heads bowed and their mouths mumbling prayers. They wore bronze plating and scarlet red. A hundred armoured warriors, carrying a thousand ears around their necks.


    They were the King¡¯s trusted followers. His hunting-pack, fierce lions led by the Warchief of Uruk.


    Their master stood before them. The broad-shouldered Kitun, golden crown atop his long hair.


    A host of priestesses surrounded him. They washed, caressed, dressed and invigorated him with stimulants. He willingly accepted his treatment, even as they put needles in his arms and forced him to drink bitter brew.


    He noticed the High-priestess watching from a distance and solemnly bowed his head towards her.


    Eneduanna acknowledge his existence with a slight nod, then continued to higher-ground so she could oversee the siege of Larsa.


    A procession of servants followed, a small army of clerks, musicians, guards and of course her winged-brass throne, brought up to her on the backs of her willing slaves.


    She seated herself and watched the bloodshed unfold.


    Amongst her divisions she caught a glimpse of orange-white robes; The Hurrian, quickly disappearing in the churning mass of screaming fanatics. Soldier of Sin.


    Red men continued to climb up on the walls, fighting over stone slick with blood, eagerly taking the place of their fallen kin.


    They were fearless in the the hail of arrows, stones and boiling tar that was thrown from above.


    Once over the battlements they flung themselves onto the defenders, striking with sharp bronze and drawing their first blood under howling exoltations. More and more of them crawled over the top, too many to hold back, and the frightened guards of Larsa soon stood face to face with their opponents.


    Broad, dark-bearded men, wide-eyed in blind rage and wearing the ears of their previous victims.


    Larsa had no reply to their savagery, and the defenders turned into mutilated corpses, body parts taken as trophies.


    A slaughter at the towers, and Eneduanna''s sacred star rose over the gatehouse.


    A mass of warriors still awaited before the walls, feverishly chanting.


    With a roar the gates were opened, and red poured into the city.


    Eneduanna - Eneduanna- Eneduanna.

 Chapter Seven - The bull of Uruk

    <h1>Chapter Seven - The Bull of Uruk </h1>


    Kitun¡¯s vision was hazy.


    The priestesses had given him some substance and its bitter taste was still in his mouth.


    His eyes had difficulty focusing, the road before him heaved up and down. His mind he struggled to keep clear.


    King of Uruk he was, by right of blood and murder. He had always been a violent man, a man of action, with a will he imposed upon others. Whatever the priestesses had given him was oil on his spirit, excessive oil, and it flamed up painfully inside him.


    His teeth were clenched, speaking was for men and Kitun was becoming something else.


    A beast, a beast indeed. He had become the Bull of Uruk, a hulking physicality with long black beard, foam at his lips, eyes penetrating and nostrils of his flat nose flaring with hot breath.


    He swayed in the saddle like a drunk, his large body finding no balance on the back of his horse. The streets of Larsa passed him in a blur. The first sparks of fire were on their rooftops. His pack followed behind in slow run, a tight cohort holding long blades.


    An abandoned helmet, a broken cart, a rotten apple was all that opposed him.


    There were no Larsan militia in the streets, only red-clothed warriors who cheered as their frothing King passed, the hulking figure almost too large for the horse.


    The Larsan houses had decorated lattices and through the slits fearful eyes peered.


    Kitun saw the Uruk warriors break the doors and enter into the houses. Screams from both sides, one side male, the other feminine. Axe Blades for the soft pleading shivering men in their paths, and the women they dragged out by the hair, young and old.


    The red men laid their rough hands on flesh of women, ripping away their dresses and openly started fulfilling their lusts on the streets.


    As women cried out, taken against their will by packs of predators, more men moved past, pulling heavy chests of riches from the estates. Gold spilled over the stones and was quickly gathered by filthy hands. From their throats a song sprang forth:


    ¡®The sons of Uruk are here, ours are your wives.


    Oh, conquered, have no fear, in our beds they will live good lives!


    Bring your honey, oils and fats, your daughters as well.


    Your house is fine, your table is set, everyone¡¯s there but you I expel!¡¯


    Kitun heard, but he did not recognize. What were they singing?


    He had lost the ability to understand the words of men. Their many mouths opened and closed, hoots and screams came out, but it was all brabble to him.


    From a passing alley the King saw a woman pursued by four red robed men.


    He blocked her off with his horse, staring at her with fury.


    She looked back in panic, part of her dress torn so it showed a milky-white breast and a small pink nipple.


    The King towered above her, his face covered in dark hair, eyes fire, broad chested and unsteadily swaying with a sharp edged bronze morningstar. Spittle dribbled from his near hidden mouth, accumulating in his curling beard like a rabid dog. A fierce animal, more beastly than his mount.


    He saw her tremble before him, stopped in her tracks, and felt his anger only grow at the sight of this pretty thing; the rage sucking away the air like an open furnace.


    Faced with the bestial enraged King, she did not even scream as she was caught by the eager soldiers and pulled back into the shadows.


    Kitun continued with great effort. The houses that flanked the streets danced, up and down and from the front to the back. Creatures of brick and wood and pillars moving around, from their mouths came screams, and his men rushed inside the houses that shrunk and grew again.


    He felt nauseous, his hand gripped the rough manes of his mount to remain stable.


    Now the temperature also changed. Kitun finding the air around him suddenly more clingy and oppressive. A moment later brass trumpets thundered from behind, announcing Eneduanna¡¯s arrival in the city. Clear tones, carrying far into the city wherever the red men had gone. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Kitun raised his head, his ears filled with the sound, as did his men. All listened, and when the trumpets fell to silence they realized the Revered one was with them.


    They were reminded that their rage had not been quenched and their fulfillment of lusts had been premature. Their drunken laughter and joyous song turned to silent vicious stares. Kitun slid from the horse¡¯s back, nearly falling to the dirt below. Beasts did not ride horses.


    The reigns of his now violent horse were taken up by soldiers that passed by in a blur. Around him all melted together, the world reduced to red cloth, orange flame, and black shadow.


    Standing on his feet he felt more secure, the need to vomit fading and the strength in his arms growing. He swung his morningstar before him, a heavy club of forged bronze, angling out with sharp points that crushed man, animal, bone and armour.


    The weapon nearly hit the shieldbearer that brought him his shield, the heavy bronze disc engraved with the face of a roaring lion, it¡¯s manes fanning out in silver towards the edge. Banners rose around the King like cedars.


    The evening sky was a faint red, but below In the narrow streets of Larsa darkness already pooled. Torchlight snapped and whispered and orange flames cast grotesque shadows on the walls.


    Kitun took a step forward, unsure of his direction. He stumbled through the streets, the full extent of his anger only starting to manifest. The frothing King arrived at a wide well, and he rested his large hands on the edge, then pulled up the bucket to drink.


    He spat it out again in disgust, the water bitter and foul for his rabid tongue.


    During his intoxicated wandering bands of warriors had joined him, and a large mass of prisoners had been whipped along. Groups of half-naked men and women huddled together, bound and fearful, they shrunk under his wild stare.


    ¡®In with them!¡¯ He bellowed, smashing his morningstar into the side of the well.


    ¡®In!¡¯ He ordered, and the men of Uruk followed command, their actions a fever of cruelty.


    They beheaded the captive men, dropping one head after the other in the well. From below hollow splashes sounded as the tormented faces plunged into the water.


    When they had ran out of heads they continued with the decapitated bodies.


    Then, no men left in the district, they turned to the women. They were too frightened to wail, huddled together in a clump of trembling bodies.


    Kitun barged straight into them, enormous body ramming them to the ground. He punched and bit and raised his weapon. He slaughtered without distinction, crushing, maiming, and throwing the broken husks in the well until it was filled to the brim with stiff limbs sticking out.


    He breathed heavily, the red blindness momentarily fading. He had built an altar to Inanna, the well poisoned with the corpses of those that had defied the High-priestess. Content with his work, hands drenched in blood, the mind of the King rapidly deteriorated into full blackness.


    A last coherent string of words he managed to push out between his crooked teeth and black beard hanging from his head like a feral mane.


    ¡®Their pathetic God must fall tonight! The temple....¡¯


    The King gnashed his teeth. Any further orders were broken sentences, animalistic howls and grunts, and words from foreign tongue and long dead languages.


    But his men had understood. From the streets and walkways they poured, stripping the city of its wealth like burning locusts, taking and consuming until they reached the large central square of Larsa.


    At the heart of the city a mountain of bricks still stood unconquered: the tall pyramid, layer upon layer rising in the sky. It was the temple of Utu, patron of Larsa, God of sun and Justice.


    Steep steps led upwards, where a winged statue of Utu himself watched over the city. The marble figure was illuminated by the final ray of light, whilst below night already reigned.


    Here the last of Larsa stood, gathered on the steps of their temple. They had seen the flames erupt in the city all around them, the screaming of their kin and songs of their invader closing in until the red warriors appeared and surrounded them like wolves.


    Now the King of the wolves stepped forward slowly, driven mad by the lingering smell of a bitch in heat. The crowned bull, degenerating into a being that now had trouble walking upright. The blood covered beast looked up at the last defenders; pitifully little left to kill.


    Priestesses came forward, their fair bodies painted in the light of flames. Their showed their breasts challengingly to the last men at the temple, small and perky, heavy and saggy, singing praise to Lady War.


    Kitun disregarded the priestesses that touched him, ignored their instruments and song, swatted his hooves at the pots of beer that they offered.


    A touchless whip drove him forth, every moment spent uselessly standing around an excruciating experience. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he licked the sides of his mouth tasting salt.


    He charged the stairs with wild abandon, immediately beset by arrows and stones. He was impervious to their feeble attempts. His shield were a dozen shields and his arm were a dozen arms; his chosen lion-men following the black bearded Kitun into battle. The Royal-guard had picked up the frenzy of their King, who now clambered up on all fours.


    The mad beast rushed up the steps.


    Larsans tried to block the degenerated King, they threatened with their spears. But they collapsed and were gored on his horns. The bull raised his heavy weapon - slamming it down on heads that burst like watermelons. Brain, eyes and teeth ejected whenever he struck down.


    Kitun tasted it all in his gaping mouth, face spattered with warm brain matter. Heavy breaths, heaving up and down, his chest screaming for more air as everything within him burned. Larsan soldiers were desperately running between the temple¡¯s columns above, firing down at the red mass that crept up the stairs unabated.


    Phantom pains in his head, like daggers behind his eyes, and Kitun howled. Too long he had remained unmoving. Again he trampled upwards, two steps at a time, a bull clambering up the stairs to destroy the last of Larsa.


    His shield he had lost, smashed and useless. His weapon had departed with another slain Larsan. The bull foamed at the mouth, grabbing men by head and crotch, lifting them above his head and throwing him down into the depths below.


    Red flowed past. The final steps were taken and Larsa¡¯s last line of shields and blades disintegrated. Red Uruk poured into the temple to butcher the last survivors.


    The statue of Larsa¡¯s God stood useless as his last followers were hunted down and his sanctum was desecrated. And he stood useless as ropes coiled around his neck and limbs and he was pulled from his stand.


    Slowly he fell, resisting until he finally toppled over and tumbled face-down, crashing onto the stones and breaking apart. His marble debris of hands, head, torso, legs and arms lay together at the bottom of the stairs, amidst the heaped-up corpses of his followers.

 Chapter Eight - Eneduannas Will

    <h1>Eight - Enedduanna¡¯s will </h1>


    Enedduanna swayed as her throne was carried through Larsa.


    She graced long arm to the warriors she encountered prowling the burning streets of the city. Such a simple gesture, and they bowed deep in the dust. Fierce warriors brought low like wincing dogs.


    They had left a whirlwind before her, cluttered streets filled with stolen possessions, ransacked and abandoned, flanked by broken houses with torn shutters and doors in which the occasional unmoving leg was visible in the half dark. Above the houses reigned a red glow and soot and ashes fluttered through the air like snow.


    With closed eyes, she enjoyed the sounds of violence and forcefulness that echoed through the alleys. She allowed herself to be immersed in the fall of the city, her nostrils quivering with the smell of fire and smoke, feeling the rapid heartbeats of terror as her men ran about. Her skin tingled as she felt anger and lust.


    Was this not what Larsa had wanted; denouncing her mercy and instead asking for her cruelty? And now it flowed, her rivers of rage and punishment, and she reveled in it.


    Her labouring carriers brought the High-priestesses over blood-slippery streets to the heart of the city. The temple awaited on a wide open square, now occupied by a sea of red. The sea parted and bowed as she approached.


    ''Eneduanna. Eneduanna. Eneduanna.''


    Her throne was brought before the white steps of the ziggurat.


    Beneath her, the labourers groaned and trembled with exertion, but they managed to keep her seat even. She enjoyed their exhaustion, her throne of cast brass excessively heavy, the burden deliberately designed for the sweaty men that carried it on their shoulders and backs.


    From above a dark beast of a man descended, his legs unsteady, his eyes confused. His great body was drenched in blood, his once-black beard now coagulated red. His burning eyes locked with Enedduanna he increased his pace, half stumbling and sliding down until he stood at the lowest step. ¡®Most revered one¡­¡¯ He said with a sigh of exhaustion. ¡®I have cleared the temple of disbelievers. I have washed it clean in red.¡¯


    ¡®You have done well, King.¡¯ She replied. She felt a fragment of pity for the man; madness possessed and barely recovering. But today was not the day for mercy, so she did not calm him with soft touch, instead letting him tumble about in his intoxicated mind.


    ¡®Now pass, I wish to claim it for Inanna.¡¯


    The black-bearded King moved, then halted again. His eyes now rolled full of want, beastly eyes lingering over her breasts. His black irises had coloured orange at the edges.


    ¡®Eneduanna¡­¡¯ He spoke, trying his best to have his voice bear authority. The attempt was pitiful, Kitun¡¯s voice a mumbling mess, stuttering as he sought to find words his mind had temporarily forgot. The King¡¯s face reddened and his eyes bulged as he continued speaking.


    ¡®Man has need for wife. But all the women in the world cannot compare. I, King of Uruk, see only you clearly. You shine. Will you not stand at my side, Godess?¡¯


    Enedduanna¡¯s face turned to disgust. She saw the orange that now coloured his feverish black irises; The eyes of his mother.


    ¡®If you were suitable, we would already have paired a long time ago...¡¯ She rose from the throne, all her terrifying length now visible and dwarfing even the King.


    Her rise was accompanied with silence.


    ¡®Now get your feet of my steps.¡¯ She hissed, impatient and feeling the shame of the rejected King cling to her. With downcast eyes Kitun returned to the cobbles of the earth.


    Her long legs graced forward, feet landing on the lower steps of the ziggurat. Naked bronzed skin, smooth and reflective in the fires of the burning city. All eyes were fixed on her, she noticed contently. s they should be.


    Enedduanna returned her gaze to the temple above and started the long climb up the stairs. Her wide hips swayed, tight cloth pressed against her skin. She delighted as she felt the eyes of thousands engaging her body. She drank their desire, elevated, ascending.


    As the devoted below grew smaller she found herself alone on the stairs, wind pulling on her dress and hair.


    Her climb became less dignified with every step. Taking heavy breaths, strands of long hair clinging to her face, she pulled herself up by her slender hands on the steep stairs above. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    How easy it would have been to have myself carried. But she knew this ascent had to be done solitary. This temple was to be made into a house of Inanna. A house of holiness. There would be no unclean sweat covered carrier-servants here, even if her legs burned with exertion.


    At the highest layer of the ziggurat rows of columns held a high enclosed temple, roof pyramidical, and within was darkness.


    Braziers had fallen, spilling red glowing embers over the cold stone floor.


    On her bare feet she walked inside.


    Empty temple - Inanna come. Have I not given you plenty of blood and communion? Of Violence and sex? This miserable temple has stood at the border of Uruk for ages, a thorn, sharp and hard. I have pulled out the thorn Inanna. Like in Uruk, here too masses will worship us. For am I not your high-priestess? Your eyes and mouth on this world?


    Her heart stirred. A faint pull on her limbs. A tiny prick behind her forehead.


    I feel you, Queen of Heaven, come. She thought with closed eyes. An otherworldly sense came over her, a gentle layer, as if taking up a second skin. The feeling was soft and light; featherweighted.


    In the dark abandoned confines of the temple-hall she needed no eyesight; her feet were guided. She was lead to the fallen altar of the temple, feeling as if she waded into warm water.


    A tingle ran down her spine and she moaned slightly, feeling veins swell between her thighs. Her long tongue lolled out.


    Where the altar stood, now fallen to the ground, she positioned herself, pressing her back against the wall. Her muscles tightened, contracting uncontrollably, turning Eneduanna rigid.


    Sudden tears streamed down. With effort she was able to open her mouth, and out came a heavy, hoarse voice. Her mind raced for hymns to speak and words of praise came out. She spake, but with every prayer completed the next became more difficult.


    Heat, heavy air, her tongue shaping the sacred words until the temple was pregnant with expectant energy. She opened her eyes, seeing nothing, but feeling watched nonetheless.


    With long strides she surged towards the entrance of the temple, overlooking the nightly landscape of the burning city all around. The ruins glowed in the darkness, illuminated from the heavens by the shining bright star of Queen of Heaven.


    One day you may be beautiful again, Larsa. Neither I nor Inanna favors the ugly. Worship and prosper.


    The first streams of heat already left the temple, brushing past her suddenly tensing shoulder, fading into the cool nocturnal air.


    She leaned forward to address the masses deep below. ¡®The Idol!¡¯ She demanded fiercely from her followers. I am the idol.


    Drums commenced below and eight priestesses carried a statue of Inanna up the stairs. A hollow piece carved from pale marble. Sparkling glass for eyes, fine gold thread for hair, clothed in precious fabrics and jewelry.


    The Idol¡¯s face, Enedduanna noted contently, resembled hers, like she had ordered the artisans. Queen of heaven, Posses my flesh, walk the earth. Idols speak and move about.


    The statue was slowly carried up, the procession enveloped in the tendril-like smoke of incense and myrrh.


    ¡®Faster!¡¯ She screeched. ¡®Do not let this moment waste!¡¯


    It was brought up hurriedly, and over the edge of the stairs rose the head of the statue. The idol¡¯s glass eyes stared into those of Eneduanna. She was faced with herself and for a brief moment she felt uncertain. Was this beauty? She found her features blunt and common, the sight of an average woman. A mere mortal, destined to become dirt like the others.


    She shook her head. This is not about myself, my feeble feelings, my calf-like fears. ¡®This all belongs to you, queen of heaven!¡¯ she cried out loud, arms stretched wide, and she guided the idol to where she previously had stood.


    Around her, the priestesses bowed down.


    ***


    Under the rhythm of heavy drum beats another procession of priestesses started to climb the steps to the high white temple of Larsa. Hooded women in red, holding ropes that pulled lambs and conquered men bound in defeat.


    When they entered they were greeted by the other priestesses. ¡®Hail Eneduanna, High-Priestess of Inanna.¡¯


    ¡®Hail Eneduanna, Mistress of burning Larsa.¡¯ The newcomers replied.


    The priestesses gathered around the cattle like hungry lionesses.


    Enedduanna stood at the end of the hall. She was naked and radiant. Heavy breasts of olive skin, wide hips. Her long legs stood together in V shape, and below her navel grew a dark triangle of bushy hair.


    ¡®?i?-tag-ga.¡¯ She said, and the sacrifice started. Under desperate bleating and tormented screams blood started flowing down the white steps of the ziggurat. With bloody knives and red hands the priestesses dug into a captive¡¯s chest, soft fingers pulling out his beating heart. They offered it to Enheduanna, and with glassy eyes she fed on the still pumping organ.


    Around them the braziers reignited with bright flames, lighting up the blood spattered hall as the sacrifices continued, red cascading down into the burning city where the feast of fertility started.


    Eneduanna¡¯s mouth, chin, throat and hands were dripped with red; Like a predator feasting on a carcass, intensely focused and silent save the sound of gnawing teeth and ripping flesh.


    Lament for Larsa


    ¡®Oh Larsa, what has become of you.


    Your towers have crumbled, your crown has been tossed to the lions.


    Your just laws have been broken and discarded, where can one find Justice now?


    The temple of the sun has been occupied by a tall whore.


    Your men are slain, their throats cut like lambs.


    The survivors are put in chains and driven like cattle to Uruk, while foreigners take your wives in your burnt homes.


    Oh Larsa, that you were the first to fall, the poets will remember your fate.¡¯

 Chapter Nine - Sapphire

    <h1>Nine - Sapphire</h1>


    Wide scapes, endless seas of sand, duned by the wind. Labyrinths of red rockside; sculpted, jagged, steep and inaccessible, sand between the passages. A rare glimpse of hardy tenacious life refusing to abandon the desolate world they called home, before being alone again, nothing in sight with clear horizon, or enveloped in violent storms that pulled on your clothes, searing your exposed skin with blasts of sand.


    The desert swallows men, and not many dare to enter, less learn to respect the desert, appreciate it, adapt to it. The lack of water c¨¢n be overcome. Sand becomes part of your life, you become part of the sand, accumulating it in your hair, in your clothes, in the creases and grooves of your skin, in your shoes and in the sheath of your dagger. You sleep in cold nights with sparse fire under bright lighted sky, the heaven so thick with stars its nearly tangible. You walk in searing heat that no longer affects you. You sweat dust, you breathe dust. Then you emerge from the land of nothing, your eyes perplexed because something is occupying your open vision. Deep within you can identify it, memories arise but they seem inaccessible. How can they be, if they are not filled with sand?


    Your feet continue, a tiredness suddenly in your legs. An anxiousness and also a fear; A strange fear of leaving the open, unforgiving bosom of the desert. Whilst your mind forms a reluctance, the legs continue; they remember the path. Walls of a city grow, its distant towers occasionally disappearing and re-emerging behind the next dune.


    The mounds of yellow sand decrease in height, and the ground thickens, hardens. Sand turns to dry dirt, then to barren stamped earth. You continue to the cities entrance, then you halt, suddenly opposed, blocked; a strange occurrence found in the form of a gate.


    An interlocking eight pointed star marks the wood. Black granite lions flank the entrance, their open maws in roar towards the newcomer, both man and statued lion covered in dust.


    ***


    The merchant blinked his silver-grey for a moment, not knowing how to deal with this halting of his path. He felt the sand in his upwardly curving shoes.


    His legs were covered in sand-coloured pants and he wore a long loose fitting robe in the same colour. His mouth was hidden behind linen wrappings, which the merchant finally pulled down to reveal a clean shaven mouth, his skin bronzed and leathery. He had a narrow straight nose, a few dark hairs emerging from his nostrils. His head was wrapped in a dark-blue turban, the fittings on the merchant¡¯s forehead holding a large Sapphire; the gem sparkling in the sunlight.


    A bony hand, half covered under the sleeve of his robe, reached out and gently knocked on the gate. Immediately a face appeared overhead, a black beard curling up in a grin. There was a familiarity to the gatekeeper, but the merchant could not grasp his name. The sand, it seemed, had bleached his memories.


    ¡®Mister Sapphire, I saw you shine from miles away!¡¯ The man above yelled cheerfully.


    The merchant narrowed his eyes. ¡®If you saw my shine, then why is the gate not open yet?¡¯


    ¡®But then I wouldn¡¯t be able to talk with you. Tell me, where is your caravan? Have you lost your camels to the sand?¡¯


    The merchant frowned. ¡®I moved ahead. Losses were minimal. My caravan will arrive in my wake.¡¯


    He now recognized the man as Capeth; keeper of the western Gate. A warrior that had changed his hunting years for the comfort and luxury of the city walls. A little fat had accumulated on his cheeks, and the droplets of beer were still visible in his beard. He was looking curiously down upon the merchant, eyes searching for hidden trinkets and exotic wares.


    ¡®Capeth¡­¡¯ The merchant urged, another gust of dust blowing over him.


    ¡®Yes?¡¯ The gatekeeper asked, pleased the merchant knew his name.


    ¡®Let me in.¡¯


    Capeth smiled broadly. ¡®Do not worry Sapphire, I¡¯ll have the doors opened for you. We keep the western gate closed during wartime. Not many emerging from the empty sands like you anyway.¡¯


    Sapphire nodded, his mind going back to what he had found in the dessert. The merchant¡¯s jaw clenched, his heart rate accelerated. He was entering Uruk carrying secrets. Secrets that would have the oh-so cheerful cityguard hang him in an instant were they to find out.


    ¡®Then how goes the war?¡¯ Sapphire called upwards, trying to control his increasing nervosity.


    The gatekeeper smiled triumphantly. ¡®I hear it goes well. You have a meticulous timing, good Sapphire. Larsa has been subjugated in the way of Eneduanna¡¯s cruelty, blessed be her name. They are already on their way back. They will be here soon.¡¯


    The doors of the gate moved, the bottoms grinding over the coarse dirt.


    ¡®Mister Sapphire, it is good to see you again, and I welcome you back to Uruk.¡¯ The gates opened fully before the merchant, pushed back by red robed guards.


    The splash of water was the first thing Sapphire¡¯s mind discerned, his eyes moved anxiously to its source: a wallside fountain, where water - sparse before - flowed in great amounts out of the mouth snake.


    Lush vegetation greeted him, gardens hanging down from balconies. His vision was filled with green. Small brown birds chirped in the streets. The gatehouse led to a small square, this time of the day nearly abandoned save a few women washing clothes in a central well. Sapphire took a first step, and an old hand reached up. ¡®A copper sir.¡¯


    Sapphire ignored the beggar sitting in the corner-shade, keeping his eyes on his new surroundings that enveloped his mind. Houses with bright painted colours greeted him. Green, crimson red, blue, yellow, all with great flower filled balconies leaning over the streets below and palms reaching up from inner gardens.


    Scents of cinnamon and spice hung in the air, emerging from a kitchen somewhere, and a faint lyre was audible in the distance. A dog slept in the shadow before a door. It all seemed surreal to his eyes. He walked beyond the square, ignoring the sudden thirst incited by the incessant splashing fountain. A small street perched between high rising wooden and brick houses abruptly ended in a canal. He stared at the water flowing past.


    ¡®Where to, mister Sapphire?¡¯ A voice asked.


    The merchant looked up, slightly startled. A young man approached, standing on a boat and pushing himself forward with a long pole. The boat moored at the side of the canal and he found himself stepping onto the wobbly deck.


    ¡®Go to¡­¡¯ The merchant hesitated, lacking direction. It had been months since he had last set foot in Uruk, but it seemed like a lifetime. An old dream, half-forgotten, bringing with it vague memories.


    ¡®-Just show me the city. I need to reacquaint myself with this old pearl.¡¯


    ¡®As you wish.¡¯ The boatsman replied, pushing the vessel forward again.


    Sapphire sat down before the boatsman, adjusting his turban. They glided through the calm waters and intersected with other canals both wide and narrow. Other boats passed, stacked with cargo or holding passengers in various degrees of luxury. They saw the sparkling sapphire in his turban and greeted him heartily.


    The canals divided the city into island-districts, the available land tightly filled with multi-storied houses, connected to each other by bridges.


    The water was turbid, a greenish brown, the clarity forced out by the city¡¯s filth and excrement, but the sun shone brightly today and rippled gold over the surface.


    The sounds of bustling crowds filled the Sapphire¡¯s ears. They passed a market, partly held on land and partly on flat boats fastened together. Stacks of fish, heaps of bread and coloured spices, bleating animals and the rinkle of coin. The weary traveler felt himself relax, stretching out his legs. He took off his shoes and streams of sand poured out.


    The boatman steered away from the waterside market and entered a shadowy side channel. Red lanterns invited the passing boats into luxurious estates. Laughter and soft moans came from high, partly shrouded windows. A woman emerged from a balcony, sparsely clothed and excessively decorated. ¡®Visit me later Sapphire!¡¯ She showed her breasts with a smile.


    The merchant sniggered as she winked at him.


    ¡®Should I wait here?¡¯ The boatsman asked.


    ¡®No, no, please continue. I have not seen enough of the city.¡¯


    It was still calm in the pleasure district, but at nightfall these waterways would be filled with eager boats and the waters below diluted with wine.


    They went to the wealthy white-marbled palace districts where boats delivered the fine luxuries of the city-markets, and the narrow, shadowy slums of simple brick and rotten wood - where commoners fished amongst the murky, impure waters for their next meal.


    The boat glided out of the gloomy canals and entered a central lake. Here another layer of walls rose up from a central island, connected by a causeway to the rest of the city. In contrast with Uruk¡¯s weathered outer layer of reddish brick and dust, these walls were azure-blue and reflected in the sun. Behind them a large domed structure rose. Uruk¡¯s inner city, reserved for the High-Priestess and her servants. He heard it was filled with extensive gardens and exotic animals, but sadly he had never been able to gain entry.


    ¡®I have seen enough.¡¯ Sapphire said. He had seen the haggling merchants of Uruk on every corner, and his heart longed for profit. ¡®-Bring me to Yayatum¡¯s estate.¡¯


    The boatsman bowed his head. ¡®As you wish.¡¯ Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    They navigated to a reclusive part of the city, the canal¡¯s widening and the districts becoming smaller until they finally arrived at a single estate on its personal island.


    Noon has passed and the sky was gradually darkening in an orange glow. Reeds grew at the edges of the island and a pair of lanterns were already lit at the wooden dock.


    Sapphire turned to the boatsman. ¡®You did well. How much do I owe you?¡¯


    The boatsman shook his youthful head. ¡®For you, mister Sapphire - its free.¡¯


    ¡®Nonsense.¡¯ The traveling merchant reached into his dusty clothes, taking out a silver coin and flicking it towards the boatsman, who caught it dexterity mid air.


    ¡®Good day.¡¯ Sapphire stated, stepping out onto the small island.


    A servant woman came rushing down the steps towards the small dock. She was dressed in quality cloth but her white scalp was shaven bald, showing her to be a slave. An eye was inked behind her ear.


    She made a deep bow. ¡®Lord sapphire, you are most welcome in my master¡¯s estate. I have alerted my master of your arrival.¡¯ She eyed his dusty worn clothes. ¡®Would you like a change of robes before I guide you to him?¡¯


    ¡®I''m quite alright, thank you.¡¯


    She led him up gradually rising stone stairs, rows of well kempt hedges and flowers passing them. The wooden doors of a great, three-storied house stood open and inviting. She brought him to a dining chamber, walls occupied by large windows that looked out over the passing waters. Receding orange light entered from outside, making the panels glow.


    A sole person sat at the end of a long darkwood table, his figure dark against the glow of dusk, though a few candles attempted to throw some of their flickering light on his sizable body.


    The seated man was an enormously fattened being. Some form was added to his blubbery body by tight fitting red fabric woven with gold detail. His sagging body was perched on a reinforced chair. Tiny black eyes peered out from his face, almost hidden between the swollen cheeks.


    Before him stretched out a great amount of dishes on silver plates. Seared duck, roasted goat, fruits, sweets, a small amount of vegetables, an enormous catfish, a whole swine, and a few loaves of bread. To compliment the mass of food a glass pitcher of wine had been placed between the swine and the catfish, alongside a pair of crystal glasses.


    Thick, piggish fingers snapped and the servant escorting the merchant left, closing the door behind her as she went.


    A heavy, laboured voice rumbled out of the heap of fat. ¡®Sapphire...¡¯


    The small mouth, almost lost in the large expansive face, turned into a smile. His tiny chin chin jutted out of the slab of fat that was his throat. ¡®-How wonderfully good to see you.¡¯


    ¡®Yayatum, my old friend, address me by my true name.¡¯ The merchant replied, remaining standing at the base of the overcrowded table.


    The great fattened man gave a chuckle that rippled through his entire body.


    ¡®You are too distrusting, Sapphire. You peddle in so many secrets and illusions that you have even managed to hide your own name. Your way seems very tiresome.¡¯ Yayatum closed his tiny eyes. ¡®-But I remember. Please, Dan Sarpa, sit at my table and dine with me.¡¯


    Dan Sarpa pulled back a chair next to Yayatum. He was dwarfed by the enormous mound of flesh besides him. ¡®My name is a privilege for the few, not the many. But mind you, in the right circles I prefer truth. Well Yayatum tell me, how goes the trade?¡¯


    The fat man¡¯s thick hands grabbed hold of a silver knife. ¡®Business later. First we eat, aren¡¯t you starving? I''m starving.¡¯


    ¡®I concede, yes, that I might be inclined to eat something.¡¯ Dan Sarpa replied with a gentle nod.


    He took off his long traveler¡¯s robe, revealing a simple, partly torn, shirt of the same colour. The turban with the Sapphire gem remained on his head.


    Seeing his companion sit down beside him, Yayatum gleefully stabbed his knife into the duck. It was an unwieldy, yet violent thrust, skewering the little creature on his cutlery. He tossed a wing of soft pink meat on Sarpa¡¯s plate. Loud chewing noise followed as the fat man started devouring the rest. ¡®Happy I finally have someone worth sharing my meal with.¡¯ Yayatum rumbled with a filled mouth, his tiny eyes already prowling towards the fish. The fish¡¯s mouth hung half-open, whiskers down, and its hazy eyes had turned white by the heat of the fire.


    Dan Sarpa ate with tiny, careful bites, savouring the near forgotten taste of fresh meat.


    The fat man reached for the pitcher of wine, pouring himself a glass. ¡®You as well?¡¯


    Dan Sarpa held his hand over his glass, shaking his head apologetically. His mouth longed for the refined tastes of Yayatum¡¯s reserve, but he feared he might lose control over his tongue. Heavens forbid he would spill information in a moment of drunken inattentiveness. Keeping a secret in the great sands was one thing, keeping it in Uruk was something entirely different. He needed to adjust to this city incrementally.


    ¡®Another time, friend, another time. I need to keep a clear mind as I have business to attend. So long without drink and I fear I will be like a defenceless lamb to you, and I will leave this fine estate with my blessing stamped on scrolls and tablets I will not remember.¡¯


    Yayatum squinted, then spat out bits of duck as he laughed. He pointed his knife, now holding a piece of white fish, at Dan Sarpa¡¯s sun-weathered face. ¡®You know me too well. Its why I respect you.¡¯


    Yayatum locked the fish into the bowels of his mouth and pulled on the plate that held the goat. ¡®-Truly, your absence has been noted. Not many traders can stand up to you. It has been too easy for me to acquire the businesses of lesser merchants. Nothing but small fish in Uruk¡¯s pond nowadays, and the slightly bigger flee when they spot my enormous shadow.¡¯ Juices dripped down his tiny lard-besieged chin as Yayatum gnawed on the goat¡¯s leg.


    Dan Sarpa suppressed the repulsion he felt, as he knew within that fat encased head there was a powerful mind. Driven by gluttony and greed, ever more hungry for more, but intelligent as well. Yayatum was shrewd and merciless when attaining his goals, and also a man that had access to the more reserved and powerful contacts of the red city. In many ways Yayatum was the opposite of the slender Sapphire trader. Instead of traveling out into the world, Yayatum was a man known for having the world come to him. Not often would he leave his estate.


    Despite their differences, it was also one of the few men Dan Sarpa felt he could trust, somewhat. At the very least he would prefer not having Yayatum die; He was too useful.


    Dan Sarpa put down his knife as the fat man continued his feast. ¡®You need to control your eating, friend.¡¯


    Yayatum smiled. ¡®Friend.¡¯ He repeated. ¡®Now that''s something gold cannot buy. Mister Sapphire¡¯s friendship.¡¯ Yayatum licked the grease from his lips, then sighed. ¡®Yes, yes. I know. I would have you know that I have reduced in weight, though it may be difficult to see for you. Big is big, isn¡¯t it?¡¯


    He pointed at a small bowl. ¡®Look, see! I have even started eating those things.¡¯ He took hold of the bowl and pushed a few green stalks in his tiny mouth.


    ¡®Its not even that bad.¡¯ He chewed them away and halted his eating. Yayatum leaned back, the reinforced chair groaning in protest.


    ¡®Well, well. Tell me where you went and what you have to offer for me. Paint a picture for me will you, let me walk the road you walked.¡¯


    ¡®I''ve been to Dilmun and beyond, into the deep sands of the great desert. Establishing new trade routes, circumventing the monopoly the merchants of Ur wield over our southern trade flows. In service of the city of course.¡¯


    Yayatum¡¯s bloated face gave a hint of anger. ¡®Ur¡­¡¯ He muttered, shaking his head.


    ¡®Indeed, so I went to Dilmun. A wonderful place, very fine, almost as fine as Uruk I must say, truly. And wonderful food, exquisite tastes¡­.¡¯


    Yayatum rose in his seat. ¡®Y¨¦s? Good food?¡¯


    ¡®Food of the sea.¡¯ Dan Sarpa replied. ¡®-Shellfish, crabs, clams, lobster! They depend entirely on the waters, and from the depths they acquire fine trading goods. I bring pearls from the deep sea, and corals, and from the desert I have rare stones and metals.¡¯


    He allowed himself a chuckle. ¡®You should have seen the faces of those Ur-fellows in their grandiose clothing, with those ridiculous high-hats they wear to have their diminutive bodies appear longer. imagine how their arrogant smirks melted away when my camels emerged from the sands. The locals were happy too, they were liberated that very moment from Ur¡¯s suffocating grasp and their low rates. I will certainly have more caravans running in the future.¡¯


    Yayatum clapped his hands, his face in admiration. ¡®How great is your work, pioneering, yes pioneering the trade.¡¯ He gathered a moment, licking his lips again. ¡®You dont bring slaves do you?¡¯


    Dan Sarpa shook his head. ¡®I am afraid not this time my friend. But I have established contact with the desert tribes. Hardy people. As much against outsiders as they are against themselves. They can be approached at the right price. Future caravans might purchase a few exotic women for you, exclusively for your household of course.¡¯


    Yayatum nodded contently. ¡®Boys too.¡¯ He quickly added as he started eating again, now busy with sweet powdered pink cubes. ¡®-I¡¯ll buy the lot.¡¯ Yayatum¡¯s voice gained a dark, possessive edge. ¡®Speaking of slaves, I have prepared a room for tonight with good selection. I assume, of course, you are starved of intimate touch. Something else than dry scorpions to lay with.¡¯ He chuckled, contently amused by his own words.


    Dan Sarpa sighed sadly. ¡®Dear Yaya-, forgive me, but I will sleep alone tonight. This city has its tendency to consume unwary travelers even more so than the desert. I must approach slowly.¡¯


    ¡®It was but a proposition, I can perfectly enjoy them by myself.¡¯ Yayatum stated with a hint of disappointment.


    He reached for the wine again. ¡®Let''s change the subject back to business shall we. Let''s talk of Larsa. Word is that the city has been taken in the most severest of ways. It wealth has been stripped and will soon flow to here. The Larsans themselves have been enslaved, the survivors at least, another profit opportunity. And the city itself is a good trade-node that needs to be occupied by Uruk merchants. We fight the same war as the soldiers do, mind you, I am well aware. More gold in Uruk¡¯s coffers means more warriors on the field, and better weapons in their hands. Hence such a task of great importance needs a great man. Who else than you is fit to occupy such a position?¡¯


    The sapphire merchant mulled the thought. ¡®Me?¡¯


    The fat man shrugged. ¡®It is within my power to arrange it. Dan Sarpa, the Sapphire from the sands, master-merchant of Larsa, commander of the eastern-trade. Of Course I expect some good rates for myself and a lookout for rare goods passing through. Tit for tat my friend. You may think about it, weigh the options, the offer will stand for a while. From Larsa we have sudden new neighbours. City of Girsu, Fortress of Bad-Tibira, you have the wretched Kishites, and the Elamites beyond even. It requires diplomacy, it requires finesse. Skill also, to run markets and delegate merchants from a ruined post, build everything from the ground up. Like I said, think about it, and if you dont want it I will find someone else to put there. Either way I will have a friend in Larsa.¡¯


    Dan Sarpa¡¯s mind was somewhere else; back to the sands and hardy desert-mountains where he had lived out the last few months. ¡®I will think about it.¡¯ He stated vaguely.


    His heart rate increased as he prepared to talk of the heavy burden he carried across the desert. ¡®Yaya, I am going to ask you for a favor. Its a sensitive matter.¡¯ Dan Sarpa felt his throat constrict. Careful now.


    Yayatum narrowed his eyes until they were hidden in his piggish head, folded up in slits, but Dan Sarpa felt the other¡¯s stare digging into him nonetheless.


    ¡®I¡¯m listening.¡¯ Yayatum replied, his joyous tone turning very serious.


    The sapphire merchant leaned forward, his voice a whisper. ¡®I need a meeting with the King. Discreetly, not even that eunuch must know.¡¯


    Yayatum gave a nervous smile. ¡®Sarpa, what have you uncovered in the sands?¡¯


    ¡®I will be grateful Yayatum.¡¯ He pressed his lips together.


    ¡®What makes you think I am not one of Heabani¡¯s whisperers? I like you, but I cannot give hermetic assurances.¡¯


    The sapphire merchant kept his stare on his fat companion, allowing the moment to stretch out in silence. ¡®If the eunuch finds out I wish to convey an important message with the Dynasty so be it, it will be your choice. Get me the meeting however. Name your price.¡¯


    A fat hand waved out. ¡®Price, price. Favors run only for favors. And you, yes you are a man I like to be owed a favor from. I will see what I can do my friend.¡¯


    Dan Sarpa felt relieved. ¡®My sincere gratitude.¡¯ He made way to rise but Yayatum got a hold of his dusty sleeve.


    ¡®You cannot leave yet, Sapphire.¡¯ Yayatum let go and leaned back, bringing forward a small wooden box. ¡®A game sir, to pit our minds against each other and see who is supreme.¡¯


    Yayatum placed the wooden box on the table, brushing aside the gnawed off bones and plates of half-consumed food. Opening it showed small ivory and onyx figurines; tiny soldiers, chariots, elephants. Fat fingers placed them in rapid succession on a checkered board.


    ¡®Chattanga.¡¯ Dan Sarpa stated in pleased surprise. ¡®It has been a while.¡¯


    Yayatum placed a first figure forward with eagerness. ¡®I¡¯ve exercised. Slaves are poor substitutes for good opponents, we will see if I will beat you this time.¡¯

 Chapter Ten - Triumph of Mud

    <h1>Ten - Triumph of mud </h1>


    In the land of Uruk, on the dusty plains of orange soil, came slithering a grand red snake. Following the great river, it closed in from the east.


    Uruk awaited in the distance; immovable, grand, a towering mountain of bricks, attracting the light from the heavens as it rose from the empty hills of barren dirt that stretched out all around. From within the city music sounded, its tones carried over its high walls by the wind and blindly calling to all who traveled the dusty plains around.


    The great red serpent, slithering through the sand, directly made way for Uruk¡¯s grand gates.


    Black bearded men came, eagerness in their movements, pointed conical helmets and red robes, carrying spears and clubs and axes and blades and bows. Their flags showed the star of Inanna and were imprinted with the name of the Revered one: ??????????


    From the warrior¡¯s necks hung fresh ears, rows and rows of them, harvested from the destroyed populace of Larsa. The fresh ears were still fleshy and pink, dried blood on the skin. The older ears, trophied at an earlier time, were dry and shriveled like dark figs.


    The men¡¯s eyes smiled at the sight of their home-city, knowing what delights were hidden behind the hard and dusty reddish outer-layer. An earthly paradise awaited them, with sparkling water and hidden gardens, where gold would flow over their hands and all delights were available for purchase.


    At the heart of the red snake was carried the High-priestess, the Queen, her brass throne guarded by the massed presence of her violent drones.


    In the wake of the Serpent¡¯s coils followed a ragged tail: slaves. Chains running between wounded ankles, bare feet shuffling forward. They stumbled in exhaustion. Some fell to the cracked dirt of Uruk. When they would not rise again by the will of the whip their bodies were left to the lions.


    The Red beast halted before the Gates of the East, banners waving in silence.


    Shanties and slums had grown in the shadow of the city-walls but its inhabitants had fled before the approaching army. Wisely they knew themselves not to be worthy of the Revered one¡¯s presence.


    Groaning and whining the tall doors opened, and in marched the rows of red and bronze.


    Images of lions, roses and Eneduanna herself danced over their formations, carried high between the shafts of their spears. Stars re-entered the city.


    Once through the gates the Serpent divided itself, its red coils splitting off into the many streets and alleys of the city, where the warriors encountered the wanting welcome of Uruk. Rose petals swirled through the air, soft pink blending with the red of the warrior robes. The awaiting populace was drunk in celebration, already half unclothed and their skin wet with sweat and drink. They danced on the streets that were slippery with wine and flowers, musicians on every corner, and their raw throats filled with praise.


    From doorways desiring hands pulled on the passing red robes to lure them inside, the warriors from Uruk departed from home so long, but the armed men would not halt. They steadily worked their way to the heart of the city, where they re-emerged from the many streets again, followed by a celebrating populace. Before them rose the sacred Inner-city, surrounded by broad canals. A central raised causeway led over the water to its doors.


    In parallel to the causeway the water was clogged with boats, finely carved vessels holding well-dressed citizenry, musicians aboard and all red-faced drunk like the commoners. The onlookers screamed and praised the warriors now marching onto the causeway, but their necks craned - seeking to catch a glimpse of the Revered one. The warriors had returned, but where was their Godess?


    Reaching the doors of the inner city the warriors halted. They were silent and unmoving, like painted statues, deaf to the noise of the impatient masses.


    Then came the pure trumpets of the Revered one, finally announcing the arrival of the High-Priestess. In its wake, the noise of the onlookers intensified to frenzied screaming, and then, out of the ragged chaos, a chant began - Eneduanna, Eneduanna, Eneduanna - long before her tall figure became visible.


    ***


    Eneduanna had a sense of superiority etched on her face as her throne was carried through the city. She knew the power she wielded over these people was absolute, uncounted masses audibly begging for her presence. Worshipped as a living Godess their fates were at her command.


    The rigid red men on the causeway parted when her throne appeared. Their eyes were fixed on her, bound, unable to break from their tall mistress. They kneeled as she was carried past them over the causeway. Loyal hounds.


    Uruk greeted her in all its splendour, the beautiful city, its riches not hidden but eagerly shown to all who would see. Grand facades, decorated walls, copper palace-domes shining in the light of the sun. Brightly painted boats navigated the canals, and the masses stood everywhere chanting her name. City of passion, her seat of power.


    She was carried to the gates of the inner-city. The crowned bull awaited her; Kitun, standing alone in front of the now opening doors. The black haired King was a stark contrast with the man she had encountered on the blood soaked steps of Larsa¡¯s temple. His grime covered skin had become clean, slightly tanned. His ink black beard had lost its feral wildness. The royal of Uruk had exchanged his armour for a soft, well fitting black robe lined with gold weaving. And most importantly; he had regained his humility. Kitun prostrated himself before her like the lowest of servants.


    She rose from the brass throne, inciting another wave of clamours as the people saw her full length - reassuring them of her divinity.


    Kitun looked up from his hands and knees. ¡®Most revered one¡­¡¯ He spoke with a voice between a whisper and groan.


    She smiled as she saw the King struggle before her, reading the little storm that raged within his heart.


    ¡®On your feet, royal.¡¯ She commanded, and the King pushed himself up from the ground, wiping the dust from his knees. His dark eyes flickered with uncertainty, then he offered his hand up to hers. He seemed eager, no, desperate, for a positive gesture. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Eneduanna accepted his large hand, broad and thick fingers where hers were elongated and slender. The King¡¯s strong hand, studded with coarse black hairs, held hers tenderly.


    Their hands entwined, she dismounted her brass throne and with bare feet she stepped onto the causeway.


    Both on an even level, the broadly built Kitun reached just to the height Eneduanna¡¯s breasts. She saw the veins pulse in his neck and the sweat trickle down his forehead.


    Eneduanna looked a last time at the celebrating, rabid masses. Then, still holding the King¡¯s hand she entered the inner city. The King would be permitted into the sanctum today. The doors closed behind them.


    Inside were great gardens of roses and hedges, a lone old willow tree growing amongst the thorns nearby, cedars and flowers elsewhere. Open fields of comfortable grass were interceded by labyrinths of thick green.


    Rising within the gardens stood her temple; its outer shell overgrown with vines, the top lined with a grand dome. Multiple floors with many windows, and golden doors. It was the house of the High-Priestess. Within its protected confines stood an idol of the Revered one, a mirror image perpetually standing in the hazy smoke of incense.


    Eneduanna took a moment to enjoy her gardens, smelling the scent of the enclosed, hidden forest. She heard the gentle buzz of bees and the chirping of birds.


    Paths led towards the temple, but their tiles were overgrown. The gardens calmed her, finding a sense of familiarity and security within its protective hedges. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Then she realized the King was still beside her, his sweaty hand clasped around hers.


    Her almond eyes opened, her back straightened, and her tall body stirred into motion again.


    Instead of moving deeper into the fine gardens she climbed the stairs to the walls.


    There was an open unprotected ledge jutting out from the battlements, extending above the gates. She revealed herself to the people again, raising up the hand intertwined with that of the King. The loud noise of the masses greeted her.


    Below her the long line of red warriors stood in formation, extending all the way over the long causeway, still holding their arms and banners. She let go of Kitun¡¯s hand, and with arms outstretched she goaded the city to silence.


    ¡®See, your Divine ruler has returned! And see, the victorious men at my command! Larsa has tasted my cruelty! Their people are dead or in chains! I smelled the burning city! I heard their cries of pain! I saw their statues topple! It brought me joy...¡¯


    Eneduanna smiled as she was bathed in the praise of her followers. Her red lips parted again. ¡®The time has come to rule this world! Next season will come another war! And after that another! I will cause a storm to descend upon the world and when it fades there will be absolute conquest of Uruk over all else! Inanna desires my skin, she desires to walk amongst you - through me! Ten times a hundred thousand voices must pray for her passage! From the first stream in the mountains to the coast where the rivers enter the sea, all must be claimed in the name of the Queen of Heaven!¡¯


    She lowered her gaze to the warriors below her. ¡®My men, my many husbands, how do you reply?¡¯


    The red thousands below all placed one hand on their heart and extended the other towards her; the tall one on the high ledge. ¡®Our hearts and our lives belong to you, Eneduanna.¡¯ It sounded from thousands of mouths. The fine hairs on her arms erected as the many rough voices weaved into one.


    But it was not enough. It was never enough. A mere triumph of mud compared to what still awaited.


    Eneduanna turned away from the masses. Kitun was still there, standing silently behind her.


    ¡®You can leave.¡¯ She said coldly, and the King bowed his head.


    As he descended the steps of the walls she scraped her throat. ¡®You did well in Larsa.¡¯ She called after him. ¡® I will have more need for you in the future. Prepare my city for war.¡¯


    ¡®Ofcourse, most Revered one. Anything¡­¡¯


    He moved through the gates and returned to the causeway, greeted with excited clamors of the citizenry. In their eyes, the King was blessed, and good fortune would come of his leadership.


    Eneduanna moved in opposite direction through the gardens towards the central temple. A host of scarlet priestesses came to her over the overgrown paths.


    ¡®Prepare the ritual.¡¯ Eneduanna told them.


    They kissed her feet and guided her back to the temple.


    ***


    Sjerub¡¯s departure from Larsa had been lonely. The High Priestess had not requested any further audiences from him. He had just been one out of many warriors; Countless in fact. And just like the others, he had followed the shining throne when it was carried away.


    His unfriendly, half-tame Uruk-bred Horse was taken away by priestesses and he had walked into Uruk with soldiers he didn''t know. Moving through the great gates he had been cheered on by people he had never seen before. He had no stomach for their celebrations.


    The Hurrian had lustlessly wandered from inns and whorehouses, crowds of massed citizenry had surrounded him, recognizing him to be a warrior. He drank the beer they gave him, but could not stand their presence.


    Eneduanna would not have him. Sjerub had seen her on the walls of the inner city, her towering tall body but a small figure in the distance, and he felt that every day only seemed to carry him further away from her.


    He longed to smell her scent, like he once did. He had vowed to serve, but in this city there were men without number ready to die for Eneduanna, and one Hurrian wouldn''t make a difference. Sjerub feared she had already forgotten him. He emptied another pot of beer and strolled away from a square of festivities. Down, down the stairs his wobbly legs took him. The noise of celebrations dampened and shadows increased.


    Vicious creatures stared at him, eyes of the rat and leper and the cut-throat, but he cared not for them. He was sauntering through a muddy, wet alley when he heard the call:


    ¡®Hurrian!¡¯


    Slowly he turned around.


    In the distance he saw Heabani; carried in an ornate chair by two servants.


    Sjerub couldn''t help but smile upon seeing the little eunuch, and a flicker of hope reignited in his heart. He ran out of the filthy alley, feet splashing through the mud, and climbed the slimey steps towards the awaiting eunuch.


    ¡®Sjerub of Aratta. The High-Priestess has a task for you. Are you still eager to serve?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll do anything.¡¯ Sjerub replied. His grey eyes were red-rimmed and a faint stubble covered his jaw. He drew his sword an inch from its scabbard, showing the bronze edge sharp and clean.


    ¡®Good!¡¯ The eunuch called from his seat. ¡®Youre going to the city of Isin, our northern Neighbours. Although you failed to open the gates of Larsa the Revered one was sufficiently impressed with your attempts.¡¯


    Sjerub tried to remain calm. Impressed. It resounded in his mind time and time again, and he had to force himself not to gloat.


    ¡®You are to depart at once.¡¯ Heabani leaned down from his litter, offering a scroll to the Hurrian.


    ¡®Here are your instructions. I assume you can read our language?¡¯


    ¡®I can.¡¯ Sjerub replied, eagerly snatching the scroll from the eunuch¡¯s painted hands.


    ¡®Good luck Hurrian, you know the stakes, do not disappoint the Revered one. Eneduanna hates disappointment.¡¯ With a snap of his fingers Heabani was carried away by the servants, his seat like a miniature throne that echoed the importance of the Revered one.


    A displeased neighing besides him, and there stood his horse; Mardu, the pale blackhaired stallion. It was saddled and packed, a bronze bridle in its mouth, facing him in the narrow empty street. Its eyes held displeased fury at the prospects of being mounted again. The beast bared its long teeth and rammed its hooves in the mud.


    Without hesitation Sjerub yanked the horse¡¯s reigns towards him. ¡®You and I are going on a trip.¡¯ He growled in its face.


    His hand touched the brand on his mount¡¯s pale flank;


    , Lightning


    ¡®Come Mardu. Lets leave this noisy city and depart for the open plains. Keep me from the lions and raiders, I trust you.¡¯


    The horse snorted, but its eyes had calmed and he allowed the Hurrian to climb onto his saddle.

 Chapter Eleven - Administrator

    <h1>Chapter Eleven - Administrator </h1>


    Kitun strode forward into the throne room. His steps were rigid, his body stiff. The taste of wine still lingered in his mouth and the scent of perfume was imprinted in his black and gold robes. His raven-black hair was uncombed and wild, the greasy strands bearing a golden crown.


    His strong brows were furrowed, mouth displeased. His eyes darted through the great chamber, seeing the many attendants already awaiting like vultures eying a meal.


    Courtiers and Bureaucrats. Hyena¡¯s with spit dripping from their snouts as they smelled the sweet miasma of rotting opportunity. The room was crammed with them, table after table filled with merchants, high-born, poets, musicians, scribes and famous citizenry.


    Kitun spied the flower-dressed Heabani in a corner, a little songbird with eyes and ears open. Only a single table held a group of warriors, dust still on their robes, and they seemed as uneasy as their chief with their fellow guests.


    All rose from their seats when the King entered, raising their glasses at the broad-shouldered royal. ¡®Hail, Lord Kitun!¡¯ It resounded once through the hall, before expectant eyes silently rested on the King.


    He continued towards his throne, situated at the end of the room on a raised plateau. Behind the throne was a large glass panel, showing the domed temple rising in the distance. Eneduanna. The true seat of power. Kitun knew he was but an administrator for her.


    Reluctantly he seated himself. The hour of begging and pleading was upon him.


    The attendants were still silent, and Kitun allowed the silence to stretch out. No whining voices, just peace and quiet. Eventually he bellowed out a deep sigh from within his beard and gestured with his strong hand. ¡®Proceed.¡¯ He stated without much conviction.


    A week of festivities had passed since their victorious return. Kitun had drank and whored until the days had become blurred. He had spent the time with his men, sung the songs of war and hunting in choirs of hoarse killers. He had wrestled and celebrated with simple men and women. Simple in their honesty and needs, uncomplicated in the natural respect they showed.


    Now he was faced with different folk; decorated birds covered with precious cloths and gems, foreign nobles and affluent clans, all flocking together for a taste of power. They were not allowed into the Inner-city of Eneduanna so they came here; Parasitizing on his time with their fake smiles, parading themselves like horses, shaking hands with the other vultures.


    A swamp filled with insects covering insects, pushing each other in the sickly tar, a sweet scent attracting ever more, exacerbated by the rotting bodies of the submerged predecessors, and a great queen in their midst.


    An attendant holding a clay tablet bowed before Kitun¡¯s throne.


    ¡®Dear Lord, Kitun, first of his name, Grand Bull of Uruk, Punisher of Larsa. The first to request your time is Yayatum the merchant. WIll you listen to his words?¡¯


    Kitun nodded. Yayatum the hungry. His obesity was discomforting to watch, but Kitun knew Kingdoms ran on gold, and men like these had the skill of generating it.


    ¡®Yaya-.¡¯ Kitun stated cordially as the round merchant waggled closer. The vast hull of the merchant was wrapped in light-blue cloths and fastened with multiple belts desperately seeking to contain the great accumulated fats of the man.


    ¡®My Lord.¡¯ Yayatum sank to his knees, then pushed himself up again with difficulty. By now his face had taken a red hue and his tiny mouth puffed for air.


    ¡®What is it that my ears need to hear, good Yayatum?¡¯


    Kitun tried to keep his tone friendly, though he had little stomach for merchant-talk tonight. His hands desired murder and his loins longed for a companion, yet he was forced to sit here - peaceful and docile, with no escape from the woes of the inferior.


    Kitun questioningly raised a single dark eyebrow as the enormous Yayatum shuffled closer, climbing up to the raised plateau of the King. Yayatum¡¯s blue shirt had great dark spots under his armpits. He smelled excessively of sweat, and a rancid scent wafted from his swollen skin. A sweet perfume vainly attempted to hide the stink of unwashed degeneracy.


    Kitun gave a low growl as the sweating ball placed his formless fleshy hand on the armrest of his throne.


    ¡®My lord.¡¯ Yayatum wheezed again, leaning even closer. The merchant¡¯s strained voice was hushed. ¡®I speak of confidential matters.¡¯


    The scent of the man was dizzying, but Kitun angled his head slightly, offering his ear to the merchant.


    Yayatum covered his round mouth with his hands and out came a whisper. ¡®The Sapphire merchant has requested a private meeting with you. He has just returned from the western sands. He has something, I do not know what my lord, but it concerns you and only you. He did not even want the eunuch to find out.¡¯


    Yayatum ceased his whispers and moved his prodigious size backwards again. ¡®My lord.¡¯ He repeated, making a short bow.


    The rest attending in the hall were intrigued, watching every movement between the two. The King himself was surprised as well, though he kept his face rigid. He resisted a glance at Heabani, sitting in the corner. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Kitun¡¯s flat nose sucked in air. ¡®Thank you, Yayatum, - for your gift and for your kind words.¡¯


    He forced a smile on his face - barely discernible under the granite-like beard - and the fat Yayatum returned to the merchant¡¯s table, where amongst a group of extravagantly clothed traders, the man with the gem in his turban sat; The famed Sapphire, nomad of the sands, of whom the drunkards in the inns spoke a thousand tales.


    The attendant with the clay tablet returned but the King ordered him to silence before he could speak. ¡®Bring me wine.¡¯


    A servant hastily brought him a cup of red wine.


    Kitun rose from the throne, raising his cup. ¡®Let''s drink to Lady war, who led us to conquer and brought us home safely.¡¯


    ¡®To lady war!¡¯ The merchants, musicians and poets spoke, their attention moved just a bit from Yayatum¡¯s whispers. As the wine yet again filled his throat, Kitun¡¯s eyes returned to the merchant''s table. Sapphire of the sands, more often than not away on travels with his caravans.


    It was a reserved man, shrouded in mystery, with a slender figure. The face under the turban had a small chin, a prominent nose and a pair of silver-grey eyes. The skin under the sparkling Sapphire was bronzed dark by the dessert. What did he want to tell him, and why the secrecy?


    Curiousness and caution sparked in Kitun¡¯s fingers, unsure to ask for the man¡¯s presence or reach for his knife.


    More came to his throne, rich nobles and wealth-hoarders, each complaining over utterly trivial matters. His mind was dulled by their voices and Kitun slumped in his throne, occasionally grumbling a yes or a no.


    Then there were red warriors before him, a small group of four, sand in their long hair and armed with knives. They kneeled deep and awaited their Lord¡¯s permission to speak.


    Kitun raised himself. He could listen to warriors. What news would they bring? Raids? War? He reawakened himself with eager images of burning lands and screaming women.


    The King raised his bearded chin. ¡®Braves, speak to me what you have to say. Then drink with your brothers.¡¯


    One of the warriors bowed his head again. ¡®We come from Larsa my lord.¡¯


    ¡®Ah, of course.¡¯ Kitun replied. ¡®How goes Larsa?¡¯


    He had left a garrison of three hundred men in the ruins, under command of one of his trusted men; Nebakku the blind, though only blind in one eye. A good number of Larsan captive women had remained with the garrison to serve as wives.


    The warrior smiled. ¡®Governor Nebakku send his regards. There is only good news my lord, we have not come to bring you worry. We have hung our banners from all the towers and walls, but it is an empty city. We have taken our quarters around the great temple and at night the other wards are dark and silent save the bark of dogs fighting for the bones of their former masters. All is in order, all is secure. We have come only to say that we have carried off Eneduanna-to-the-East. That sacred Idol of the Revered that stood on Uruk¡¯s eastern borders. The governor decided it should now stand at our far-reaches, stating Larsa is now Uruk, and we have moved the idol further east. It now stands to gaze at the green Kingdoms of Girsu and Lagash, it sees the stone land of the Elamites beyond and has her eyes fixed upon the great mountains of the east. We guard Eneduanna-to-the-East, Lord Kitun.¡¯


    ¡®Very well.¡¯ Kitun said, caressing his dark beard. ¡®Tell Nebakku to not be such a dumb mule and ask permission when dealing with such sacred deeds next time. He may be governor and he may have a hundred ears in his possession, but we cannot afford to see idols of our Revered one damaged or worse, stolen.¡¯ He mulled a moment, thinking it over. ¡®I will send another pack to Larsa. Guard the statue and make the right sacrifices at the feet of the idol; Eneduanna sees all. You are dismissed my braves. Spend the night, enjoy the pleasures, and leave for Larsa tomorrow.¡¯


    The travel-worn warriors bowed and left.


    Kitun scraped his throat. ¡®I will listen only to one more audience seeker, then you all leave my palace.¡¯


    A murmur of discontent voices in the chamber, then a handful of men rushed towards the throne. Fitted like peacocks, glittering and shiny, they discussed amongst themselves who would be allowed to speak with Kitun.


    ¡®I must speak with the King!¡¯ A Command sounded through the hall.


    A large figured woman passed through the chambers. Her voice was deep and husky, and expectant of obedience. The priestess was an older matron, dressed in scarlet, with broad shoulders and black hair cropped at the length of her jaw. Her chin was raised and her wide mouth actively displeased, as if only barely tolerating just the presence of the other attendants, and perhaps even the King himself.


    ¡®King.¡¯ She stated coldly before the throne. Orange, cat-like eyes under dark brows dug into Kitun.


    ¡®Matron Amalda...¡¯ Kitun shifted uneasily in his throne, but he tried his best to sound forthcoming.


    ¡®May I be the last to speak with you, King of Uruk?¡¯ She asked with subtle insistence, though it was already clear he would.


    The one called Amalda was one of the more powerful acolytes of the High-Priestess, with a strict command over the sisterhood¡¯s military wing since Kitun was but a young warrior, and it seemed age had not made her any softer.


    ¡®Of Course.¡¯ Kitun conceded. ¡®How can I be of service to the temple?¡¯


    Matron Amalda tossed him a slight nod. ¡®In her infinite wisdom, the revered one has foreseen the need for increased capacity for war. She wants more soldiers. It is the King¡¯s duty to collect the men for the Revered one. Empty out the orphanages from ages thirteen and higher, prepare them for blood.¡¯ She turned a moment to the rest of the attendants. ¡®Every citizen is expected to aid the coming endeavours of the Temple. Sisters will come to your door, I expect your donations to be ready when they knock. Be aware, I will personally judge your willingness to serve the Revered one...¡¯


    Matron Amalda took a step closer to Kitun¡¯s throne. The strands of her silky short black hair swayed slightly as she inspected him.


    ¡®Matron Ruwala has started to incite rebellion amongst the slave populations of the River Kingdoms. Scarlet sisters are active and teaching dissent to the shackled in cities far and wide. Expect increased inflows of hopeful towards our blessed city. Have regular patrols through the shanties and empty them of capable men. Promise them bread. Press gang them into servitude. Use the whip if you have to, the Revered one needs men. Will you deliver?¡¯


    Kitun scraped his throat. ¡®I Will.¡¯


    She seemed content. ¡®Have the hearts of thine warriors roused. Inform them every with fifty will be rewarded.¡¯ And she left, passing the attendants tables. The rest rose silently and followed her out of the King¡¯s hall.


    Kitun remained seated, alone. Eneduanna would inevitably hurl them against the neighbouring cities. He knew, and it would come soon. The fates of many men weighed heavily upon his shoulders, a pressure so strong he could barely move from his throne. One careless mistake and a hundred men would be dragged down into the depths. A blink at the wrong moment and another dozen would be deposited in death¡¯s storehouse. Tiny men reduced to empty husks falling down, and him alongside them.

 Chapter Twelve - Land of Lions

    <h1>Chapter Twelve - Land of Lions </h1>


    Sjerub rode through the Northern Gate, exiting the walled confines of canal-rich Uruk and entering the sprawling, ever expanding shanties that started from the city gates.


    Here there were no waterways, no grand estates.


    Dry reddish dust and filth-mud had replaced the gardens. Masses of imported slaves and a steady stream of immigrants attracted by Uruk¡¯s riches had forced the city to grow beyond its protective walls. Far-reaching slums stood in parallel to the northern road.


    Sjerub pulled the hood of his traveler¡¯s robe over his head, a gust of coarse dust from the western sands blasting over him and his horse.


    The shanty streets were filled with rag clothed people that stared at him with hungry eyes.


    ¡®Begone, dogs!¡¯ Sjerub yelled, forced to slow down Mardu. The horse shook his head in a bid to escape the reigns but his master kept a tight grip.


    Hearing the Hurrian¡¯s angry voice the people slowly moved out of the way.


    Sjerub shook his head at their gaunt faces. Food seemed to be a problem for Uruk, especially outside the great walls. Its people grew in number every day, multiplying, while its food supply did not. Nothing grew on the barren soil of Uruk. Meat and bread was acquired with coin, which these people did not seem to possess, though Sjerub felt no pity for them. If you want bread you can fight for it.


    He ignored the malnourished people at the side of the road that sought to sell their daughters to him, nearly trampled a young child that stood in the way, then finally left the nauseating and cramped misery of the slums and entered dry open country.


    The stink of people, animals and their accumulated filth was replaced with fresh air; sandy but clean. The land of Uruk came into his view, and it was a dry arid land.


    The soil was hard earth cracked and scorched by sun, an oker-orange hue reaching to the horizon. Another gust of dust from the west covered him, pricking his eyes before depositing red sand over the salt-caked fields.


    The melancholic emptiness was split by the great river. It approached from the north to feed Uruk and continued further south in an endless ribbon of sparkling blue. Reed grew thick and high at the  waterside, the light-brown stalks rippling in the dusty wind.


    In parallel to the reeded riverbank an empty road led north. It was used little, and on this burning sun-bathed day there were no fellow travelers.


    The day was hot, scorching hot, and Sjerub felt the sweat trickle down his back. A droplet ran down his nose.


    Mardu was keeping a good pace, a cloud of dust emerging under his powerful hooves. Sjerub looked over his shoulder at Uruk, both the vast red walls and the slums before them gradually shrinking.


    He was sweating, already thirsty, and dust pricked in his eyes. A smile formed on his face; He was serving his mistress again.


    ¡®Take the road at your own peril¡¯, the city guards at the gates had told him. ¡®-This is a land of Lions.¡¯


    So Sjerub watched the land. The barren plains were empty as far as the eye could see, the salt-flats hazy in the hot air. The reeds could hide creatures however, even a lion - crouching low between the moving stalks. Perhaps its predatory cat eyes were fixed on him this very moment.


    The Hurrian grimaced. Today every stalk danced to the tune of a warm western-wind. Any bestial movement would be concealed.


    Bones were scattered in the sand. He encountered an old broken wagon at the side of the road with ripped curtains. Further along, skulls lay half buried in the dirt. It was clear it were the lions that ruled over Uruk-outside-the-walls, and they hunted the men; the traveler, the caravaneer and the exile.


    His pale mount galloped loudly over the dirt road. Mardu seemed as joyed as his master to be out of the cramped city and its tight streets, but his crashing hooves and furious breathing, as well as the long plume of dust steadily growing towards the sky in their wake, would signal their approach to any awaiting predator.


    Was that a movement? Sjerub asked himself, seeing a branch sway at his reeded right flank.


    He wasn''t going to take any chances and pulled on Mardu¡¯s reigns. The fast horse kicked and buckled but Sjerub ignored its protests. Gradually Mardu came to a halt, breathing discontentedly.


    Sjerub¡¯s hand held a long wooden lance, the star of Eneduanna waving just below the bronze spear-tip. He lowered the weapon in preparation. Mardu staggered but Sjerub kept control, grey eyes fixed on the reeds. Come then, beast.


    He waited, and waited - patiently. A lone cloud crossed the blue heaven and nothing came forth. Sjerub swallowed and continued the journey.


    The laws of Uruk had been made very clear to him; This was the land of lions. The great cats were considered sacred animals, personal property of the High-Priestess, and were forbidden to hunt, forbidden to kill - even in self-defence.


    But Sjerub would not let himself be clawed down and dragged into the maws of those predatory cat-beasts. No, when the time would come, Sjerub would defend himself; Break of his lance into the hide of that holy beast and not even beg Inanna for forgiveness. He was not a commoner, not a nameless traveler, he was Sjerub; Eneduanna¡¯s command.


    Eneduanna. A faint desire in his heart. When would he meet her again? If he had to he would slay a hundred lions just to be with her again. The tall woman...


    Sjerub rode on, enveloped in his own thoughts until the sun dropped low.


    A descending dusk in the desolate west, casting its last red light on the surface of the waters.


    Sjerub steered the reigns to the left, forcing Mardu from the road and into open land.


    He rode towards the setting sun, finding the ground steadily rising into hill-country.


    In the red twilight of dying day he noticed old weathered tree stumps dot the hills; the remains of an ancient forest, cut down ages ago.


    Sjerub raised his nose into the air and breathed in deeply; Earthy, no scent of cat. He halted Mardu and dismounted. His wobbly legs took a moment to regain their strength, and his back ached from a long day in the saddle.


    He made sure to tie down Mardu to a stake in the ground; he didn''t trust the pale horse for a heartbeat to stay loyal.


    He collected brushwood and dry stalks, roots if he had to, and chipped away at the tree stumps with his dagger, finding enough to start a small fire.


    As Sjerub ignited the campfire the thought came to him that perhaps, Uruk¡¯s sacred lions had learned to search men by their lights. But he kept the flames alive; If he was to face a great holy maned man-eater he was not going to do it blind.


    He sat down with legs criss-crossed and placed his sword in his lap and his lance besides him.


    Sjerub stared into the flames. His travels led him to the city of the Isines, Uruk¡¯s northern neighbours. He was Eneduanna¡¯s envoy. Her eyes, ears and hands.


    Sjerub¡¯s mouth became a thin line when he realized the gravity of his task. There would be no failure. Anything less than a complete success might spell his end. His mistress had given him mercy once, he doubted he would receive it twice.


    He took out Heabani¡¯s scroll from Mardu¡¯s saddle. The brittle paper creaked as it was unrolled again. For a moment the black-inked symbols of the Riverlanders danced before his eyes, taunting him in the light of fire. Then the lines and squiggles turned into words and sentences:


    ¡®Sjerub of Aratta, bound Hurrian, servant of the Revered one - blessed is her name,


    You are sent to Isin, Realm of King Kalbi the beekeeper. It stands at the banks of the same river as Uruk, three days ride upstream.


    The Revered one wants you to make the following demands to the King of Isin:


    She wants the permission to build a temple to the Queen of Heaven within the walls of Isin, with her Idol placed within.


    She also requests the lifting of any and all restrictions on the movement of her priestesses in an out of Isin, and his entire Kingdom.


    With those simple conditions met the High-Priestess of Uruk offers friendship and protection to Isin.


    Isin will not follow the fate of Larsa. Isin will prosper.


    Ensure that Eneduanna¡¯s commands are followed by any means necessary.Stolen story; please report.


    Good luck to you Hurrian, may Inanna give you safe passage through her land.¡¯


    The message ended with Heabani¡¯s seal: a red-waxen signet of the songbird.


    Sjerub rolled up the scroll. A temple for Eneduanna. Priestesses in Isin. It seemed simple enough, but he had to admit he had no idea how feasible the demands were. He had never been this northern Kingdom. What if the Isine King said no? His stomach churned; He would fail the High-Priestess. What then? Challenge his champion to a duel? Terrorize the Isine countryside until he was hunted down? Return with his tail between his legs back to Uruk? What then¡­.


    A faint roar in the distance shook the Hurrian from his thoughts. The echoes faded through the dark barrens. He wished it was a trick of the wind, but he knew one of her sacred beasts was roaming the land.


    Mardu¡¯s pale muscles bulged as the horse pulled on its binds, teeth gnashing with foam at his lips.


    ¡®Calm now Mardu, calm now.¡¯ Sjerub said as he reached for the lance.


    A muffled sound behind him made his ears prick up, followed by a discomforting tingling over his spine. In an instant he spun around, spear-tip ready to strike into the darkness.


    Sjerub¡¯s eyes widened to collect the sparse light of stars and he braced his legs.


    Tap. tap. tap.


    It was directly in front of him.


    ¡®Come then, beast.¡¯ The Hurrian uttered into the darkness.


    Tap. tap. Tap.


    A little frog jumped between his feet, ignoring the Hurrian warrior looming over him.


    Sjerub sighed a breath of anxious relief and lowered his weapon. He shook his head in disbelief; what was this little amphibian doing in these arid hills? The frog stopped, moist eyes glancing at him, then smugly leapt past him back into the darkness.


    Sjerub found himself alive and unscathed at dawn. Mardu was still there, though it glared at him with open hostility. It neighed, pulling again on the rope, as if urging him to get going again.


    Sjerub watered and fed his horse, collected his possessions and remounted. Soon he was riding over the river-side road again.


    By midday he noticed Eneduanna¡¯s familiar form awaiting him. Her tall body twisted in the heat of the road. He had reached Eneduanna-to-the-north; An identical idol of the High-Priestess at the northern reaches of Uruk.


    Here Uruk ended and Isin began. The soil beyond Uruk¡¯s borders had the same orange-brown colour, but the landscape was dotted with large boulders and rocks, as if a wandering giant had collected great stones from a quarry and one by one they had slipped from a hole in his bag. Around these stones purple flowers grew from dry bushes, and small golden-coloured bees buzzed from petal to petal.


    Sjerub halted at Eneduanna-to-the-north, the tall statue standing on a weathered granite block peering out to the stony lands to the north. She was dressed in red, cloth somewhat faded. Her marble skin was painted tanned, moulds and marks added like the real Eneduanna possessed. Her eyes were flickering onyx stones. Brown human hair swayed from the statue¡¯s head.


    The idol seemed displeased and Sjerub cast down his eyes. He galloped away and crossed the border.


    A chiseled black borderstone on the Isine side read:


    Lions to be sentenced to death.


    City of Isin stood in the land like a shining pearl. It was elevated on a tell, and Its protective walls were plastered white to reflect the sun. The hill-top city was the main citadel of a small but prideful Kingdom. From here shepards led out their herds back and forth to villages in the stony countryside.


    From certain parts of the city, plumes of smoke rose behind the walls - the fires of Industry; the famed glassmakers of Isin.


    Like at Uruk, the grand wide river flowed past on the eastern side. A merchant¡¯s quarter had been built outside on the riverbanks, simple clay huts and buildings and a few mooring docks.


    Isin sold medicinal herbs, honey and glasswares, much of it ending up in Uruk. Small plots of farmland surrounded the hill-city, and across the river was a growth of palm trees and dense brushwood.


    Sjerub forced Mardu to greater speed as he reached the approaches of the white hill-city.


    In Sjerub¡¯s hand was raised the banner of Eneduanna, the eight pointed star of Inanna.


    People in the fields halted their works and fled towards the city. Sjerub continued unabated, charging towards the city in a roar of dust and thunderous hooves.


    Further ahead he saw the gates of Isin being closed hurriedly, while a small mob of frightened peasants forced themselves in through the last gap.


    Sjerub halted, and besides a displeased neighing, the horse complied. He gently tapped Mardu¡¯s black-maned neck. It seemed his mount was getting accustomed to him.


    A dozen helmeted heads watched from above, the rinkling of armour audible as more soldiers rushed into position.


    Sjerub¡¯s hard Hurrian face stared back. ¡®Your manners remind me of the Larsans.¡¯ He taunted. ¡®Is your fear so great for Uruk that you would close the gates for a single rider?¡¯


    ¡®Uruk from the south is always trouble. Dont blame us for precautions. State your business truthfully or see yourself riddled with arrows.¡¯ A bald soldier demanded. His men raised their bows.


    Sjerub smiled. ¡®I bring words for your King from the Revered one, High Priestess Eneduanna of Uruk.¡¯


    ¡®Very well.¡¯ The soldier replied. ¡®We will inform our Lord. Patience now, envoy from Eneduanna. Do not say we are Larsans, we have no war with Uruk. Let there be peace between us, but you are a stranger to our Kingdom and your admittance is not my decision to make.¡¯ The bald soldier disappeared behind the battlements.


    Sjerub dismounted, planting the banner in the soil before the gate. He took a swig of water and wiped the dust from his robes. He ensured his armour was fastened properly to his body and checked the edge of his sword. His right hand rested on the blade¡¯s hilt, his left held onto the banner.


    He awaited wide-legged before Isin.


    The gates soon ground open again, and the lone Hurrian was faced with a host of Isine warriors. They wore lamellated bronze armour and their shields depicted dogs and bees. Sjerub ignored their unfriendly eyes and fixed his attention to an old, frail-looking man in their midst.


    The man wore a long white robe and a crown of gold was perched atop his short cropped depigmented hair. His skin was pale, with a yellowish hue, and two milky brown eyes stared out from deep sockets. His gaunt cheeks led to a thin strip of mouth that barely showed lips.


    ¡®I am King Kalbi, Lord of this domain, whom they call the beekeeper. I see a red-lion at the doors of my house whilst our law is to put lions to death. The air of my Kingdom is clean. But from the south-east comes the stench of charcoal and death.¡¯


    ¡®You smell Larsa.¡¯ Sjerub replied. ¡®Their fate had been their own to choose. They chose cruelty.¡¯


    ¡®And are you here to give Isin that same choice?¡¯ The King¡¯s voice rasped.


    ¡®The High-priestess brings you a more generous offer than Larsa received. I am Sjerub of Aratta. Once I served under Lord Enmerkar of Larsa. I fought Uruk and Tall Eneduanna showed me mercy. Now I am envoy of the High-Priestess. I am sent here to speak Eneduanna¡¯s words to you. Will you admit me into your city?¡¯


    ¡®Tell me, was it easy for you to betray your previous master?¡¯ The old King asked, ignoring Sjerub¡¯s request.


    ¡®I am Hurrian. A Hurrian never breaks loyalty. I was the last man to fight against Uruk. Larsa was already slaughtered under the light of the black sun. Only by the sight and command of The Revered one I bowed. Have you ever seen her?¡¯


    ¡®I have not.¡¯ The King warily replied.


    ¡®You will see her if you do not speak with me. She will be carried to your gates and you will be offered mercy or cruelty. But the fine flower should not wither under the feet of soldiers, let us talk, Lord of Isin.¡¯


    The King gestured to one of his men, who stepped forward and reached for the red star-banner.


    ¡®Do not touch Eneduanna¡¯s standard.¡¯ Sjerub warned coldly.


    The soldier continued and sjerub swung his blade at the man¡¯s throat, halting just an inch before the pulsing jugular. More men came forward, drawing their own weapons.


    Sjerub spat on the dry soil. ¡®I am Eneduanna¡¯s envoy. I am her eyes and ears.¡¯


    ¡®Leave the lion.¡¯ The old King sighed and his men fell back. A seat was carried forward and Kalbi sat down before the gates of his city. A servant brought a cup of wine. Sjerub was offered nothing.


    ¡®Very well, Hurrian, say what you have to say. Over the years I have dealt with many stray packs from the south; be they red-clothed men or lions. Lets see if something else is able to cross your border save trouble and hardship.¡¯


    Sjerub put his sword back in his scabbard and unrolled the scroll.


    ¡®¡¯The High-Priestess wants the permission to build a temple to the Queen of Heaven within the walls of Isin, with her Idol placed within.¡¯ He proclaimed


    ¡®-She also requests the lifting of any and all restrictions on the movement of her priestesses in an out of Isin, and your entire Kingdom.


    With those simple conditions met the High-Priestess of Uruk offers friendship and protection to Isin.


    Isin will not follow the fate of Larsa. Isin will prosper.¡®¡¯


    The King was silent for a moment. He looked at the star banner besides Sjerub, following the ripples the wind mae in the red fabric as if it were an oracle.


    ¡®If I refuse?¡¯ Kalbi asked.


    Sjerub frowned. ¡®You will force her to come. Her army is great. Larsa was subdued with minimal losses. With a sea of red around your citadel she will offer mercy or cruelty. Your Kingdom is fine, Lord of Isin, let it remain so. Eneduanna offers you peace if a temple stands within your walls and her priestesses may attend it. She will not break her word. Her word is sacred law. No packs will stray into your land. No other Kingdom will dare attack you. A crown will remain on your head. Refuse and you risk war with Uruk.¡¯


    ¡®I am old, dear Hurrian.¡¯ The King spoke slowly. ¡®With age comes wisdom. Knowledge. Instinct. You will realize that the world is not ruled by absolutes. Uruk is known for its merchants, so it should not be surprised by negotiations. Your Mistress might see a small Kingdom at her northern borders, but Isin has friends. I urge the HIgh-Priestess to look more carefully at her neighbours. Larsa may be ruined, but there are more Kingdoms. And these small kingdoms are frightened. They are forging blades and fletching arrows. They are sending each other messages and signing pacts. Great Ur stands at your south, and they have offered me coin and soldiers. Eridu, Kingdom of the Carps, has called for its men to serve. And I, Lord of Isin, have hunted lions all my life. My men are seasoned, acquainted, and now they wear new armours and wield new weapons. My coffers are full of gold and many mercenaries have shown interest in earning what I possess. There are even a few bands of Larsans that have managed to reach my borders. Uruk must reassess its relationship with Isin. I sit comfortably where I am. I fear not the power of Uruk, for I am not alone.¡¯ The King sipped his wine and seemed to savour its taste.


    ¡®But please, envoy, listen well. I offered Uruk the option of negotiation. LIke you, I prefer peace to war. I, Kalbi, Royal master of Isin, keeper of bees and dogs, will allow the Idol of your mistress into my city, - if she pays for its stay. Eneduanna¡¯s weight in gold and her priestesses are free to come and go. I will not war against Uruk when the others ask me to. If Ur and Eridu march out against Uruk, my warriors will not burn the property of Uruk. There will be lasting friendship between our domains. I have heard your words, turncoat Hurrian, now bring my words back to Eneduanna.¡¯


    Sjerub grimaced. His mistress would not be pleased. ¡®You are risking your life, and mine, with this proposal. Are you sure this is the path Isin will take?¡¯


    ¡®I''m quite sure.¡¯ Kalbi replied coldly. ¡®Uruk has no friends outside her own walls. How will the city fare if all her trade-routes and roads are blocked, and armies will stand at every direction it looks? My offer is genuine, but any agreement between Isin and Uruk must be based in reality.¡¯


    Sjerub shook his head. He already imagined the burning palaces and lamenting populace as Eneduanna¡¯s cruelty would descend upon this place.


    ¡®If you are sure of your decision let the Gods show favour. Send out your champion to me, and we will test your wisdom against the swiftness of the blade. You should not have trouble with a bit of blood, because it is what you will face in thousandfold when you send me back with these terms.¡¯


    ¡®But who will bring my words to the High-Priestess if you lay bleeding on my soil? No, I think that will not be the right message. Indeed quite the risk. Go, Hurrian, out of my domain. If she has a reply to my proposal I am eager to admit you again.¡¯

 Chapter Thirteen - Price of Secrecy

    <h1>Chapter Thirteen - Price of secrecy  </h1>


    Sapphire walked through the tight street. Around him towered high three and four story brick houses. They were crooked and old, leaning down over the street and watching the merchant that traveled in their shadow.


    This district, called the fisher¡¯s district, was comprised of a small island with tightly packed structures, surrounding a tiny central square. Vines grew against the walls, taking root in the cracked plaster. From a window an ancient grandmother stood watch. Clothes-lines with multi-coloured fabrics were spun high across the narrow walkways, dripping down on the streets below.


    The island had three bridges leading over the canals towards other districts. Men were busy with fishing poles and nets, staring intently at the canal¡¯s murky waters. Small boats came and went, mooring at the district¡¯s edge.


    He liked to visit such places. Backwater neighbourhoods and lower wards instead of the busy noble canals. Rundown districts instead of famous pleasure houses. Beauty was everywhere, but the most prized beauty was that which was only sighted by the few.


    One of the tall crooked houses caught Sapphire¡¯s eyes with a sign-board; The Insatiable Cat-fish, it read in flaky white letters. The merchant halted and peered inside through a small window.


    Unclear wobbly glass panels showed dark confines and the outline of an occasional blurry figure.


    He had seen seedier hovels, Sapphire decided, and he pulled open the crooked door.


    It was a small drinking hall, just a few tables squeezed towards a counter, everything placed under an ominously sagging ceiling that seemed ready to collapse under the weight of the levels above. The floorboards were weathered, uneven, and creased up in rebellion, protesting and groaning under Sapphire¡¯s shoes.


    Across the hall there was a pair of small dirty green-tinted windows that showed the canal flowing past, casting a few rays of coloured light into the gloomy room. A hairy mongrel lay in front of an unlit hearth. The beast opened a single eye when the newcomer entered, then returned to its slumber.


    Besides the dog, the other occupants of the inn were the dog¡¯s master standing behind the counter, and four middle aged men drinking next to the windows.


    There had been a soft murmur that stopped when the merchant entered.


    ¡®You know who I am, fellows?¡¯ Sapphire asked the inn.


    ¡®Youre the trader; Sapphire.¡¯ One of the men said, glancing at the merchant¡¯s gemmed turban.


    ¡®Mister Sapphire.¡¯ A second corrected his companion.


    Sapphire smiled. ¡®In the midst of one of my long journeys I have found myself at the doors of this establishment. I am in a good mood today. Buy me a drink and I¡¯ll tell you a story.¡¯


    The men, already noticeably inebriated by their aura of rancid sweat and the slur in their tongue, tossed a smattering of coppers at the inn-keeper, who was contently twirling the ends of his moustache. The Sapphire caravaneer - in his house? - The gossip alone would bring weeks of filled tables.


    ¡®Take a seat, caravan of the dessert.¡¯ The Innkeeper eagerly said. ¡®I am Big Bas, and I¡¯ll open my finest bottle for you. I won''t pour you the bog those vagabonds are drinking. They are good for nothing save cleaning the murky slop that resides at the bottom of my barrels.¡¯


    He reached under the counter, uncorked a dusty bottle and filled a glass - one rim chipped - with an golden-amber liquid.


    Sapphire took a sip and felt a comfortable burn spread through his throat. ¡®Not bad, Big Bas, master of the Insatiable Cat-fish.¡¯ He seated himself on a table next to the drunkards. ¡®I will depart for another venture soon and I prefer to have the good people of this blessed city speak of me, rather than forget me while I am struggling in the sands. I want candles burning in the shrines for the safety of my caravan. Now ask, what tale do you want to hear? I have just returned from Dilmun; A shining pearl hidden between sand and ocean...¡¯


    The greasiest of the four leaned forward, eyes on Sapphire¡¯s turban. The man had slick black hair, rough stubble on his fattened chin, and a ragged overcoat that likely hid a dagger or two. ¡®Where''d-ya-get-that-Sapphire?¡¯


    Sapphire¡¯s instinctively reached out to his turban, fingers gliding over the smooth surface of the gem. He gave a careful smile. ¡®Ah-h-h,  now that is an old story. I''m not from Uruk you see, I was born in the west, across the great sands...¡¯ He eyed the innkeeper, who was listening attentively with his elbows on the counter.


    ¡®...But a young man back then, only a few golden shekels to my name. The caravan I led was small, and owned by the Good Yayatum, whom you all know of course. I worked for him back in the day. Even if it was not my own caravan I was still careful, eyes out for bandits and storms, being kind to my camels, keeping close the few men I had brought along. But friends, know this; in the dessert you must be merciless. One mistake and you are stuck in a world that will try its best to add you to the sand collection-¡¯


    ¡®Merciless.¡¯ One of the drunks muttered with a nod.


    ¡®-We were halfway across the journey to the Palm oasis, somewhat on our guard as we had heard rumours about Karnak one-eye-¡¯


    ¡®One eye!¡¯ One of the listeners exclaimed. ¡®I have heard of him!¡¯


    ¡®Shut your mouth and let the man speak!¡¯ Big Bas yelled from behind the counter, now pouring himself a glass as well.


    Sapphire waited until it was silent again and patiently continued his story. ¡®The fateful encounter occurred when we were crossing the salt flats, an endless plain of cracked white salt, miles and miles around. Well, there upon that moisture hating terrain I saw a lone man stumbling about. A single man in a haze of nothing. He just appeared on the blinding horizon. When he saw us he began yelling hoarsely. One moment I was wary - A trap perhaps? Luring one caravan with the misfortune of another? But the horizon was so terribly flat, giving the promise of spending days more in that barren wasteland with no raiders in sight¡­¡¯


    Sapphire licked his lips, taking another careful sip. ¡®There, on that man¡¯s forehead, on a half-unwrapped turban, sparkled the largest, purest Sapphire I had ever seen.¡¯


    ¡®So you stole it?¡¯ The greasy man grinned.


    Sapphire him an irritated glance. ¡®Listen! Not speak. Can I tell my story or not?¡¯


    The friends of the man made angry hisses at the sweaty interrupter, and the innkeeper made a quick series of threats.


    The merchant leaned back, retracting within his soft loose fitting dessert robes.


    He had the full attention of his spectators and, savouring the moment, he took his time to formulate his next words.


    ¡®The man was in a sordid state. And when I say sordid I mean terrible; close to death really. He collapsed at our feet, thick bulging tongue outstretched, wrinkled fingers clutching my boots with his last strength¡­¡¯ Another sip warmed his throat.


    ¡®-He was a captain of sorts, an older fellow. A good fifty summers. I would say another hour without water and his end would have been sealed. He was desperate for our water. He asked, then begged. But what did I tell you previously? There can be no mercy. No mistakes. Not in the great dessert.


    He asked for water and I said no. I told him:


    ¡®Youre no beggar, you are a trader, so make a trade. We are both merchants, I¡¯m sure we can come to an accord. Where did you get that gem, and how much is your life worth?¡¯


    This lone captain however, was quite a negotiator. The man made clear, with signs and hoarse rasping, that he needed water first before he could tell the origins of the gem.


    So one cup I measured, counting the drops, and I paid the man.


    He drank and asked for more. Of Course I refused. I was with eight armed men, and in the possession of all the water for the next hundred miles.¡¯


    Sapphire shook his head, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. ¡®Said he got the gem during gambling, and that the previous owner told him he stole it from the tomb of a red bearded giant... And you know what I said?


    ¡®¡¯- Thats a bad story, and I''m gonna need more than the gem if you want to be saved from the dessert.¡¯¡¯


    I asked:  where is your caravan?


    He said it dead, he could bring me to where his camels had collapsed. He promised me half the goods. Well I gave him one more cup of water for his troubles and I let the poor fool lead me.


    A host of camels lay scattered over the sand, brown hides pale from the coarse salt dust. Tusks of Ivory, spices from the hidden garden of the sands, chests of wealth. Well I took it all, every box of treasures, every satchel of coins, but I still had not enough.¡¯ Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Sapphire raised his finger. ¡®-When opportunity comes, one must exploit it completely. I reached for the most valuable resource a caravaneer can have: knowledge. Far away oases, hidden wells, buried supplies. He told me what he knew, gave me maps. Very nice maps. The man had been crossing the barren steppes of the world for decades, and I extracted everything I could from his dehydrated mind. He had a brass ocular, lens shaped to perfection, so I took it. He had a ruby-inlaid knife, which now hangs from my belt. I took the gold-thread from his shoes and I took the rings from his fingers. And what do you think I did with this poor captain lost in the salt fields?¡¯


    ¡®Ye-left him.¡¯ The greasy man said, emptying his clay cup and refilling it with beer..


    Sapphire chuckled. ¡®No. A trade is a trade. There must be some honesty between merchants. How else can we trust each other? He had bought his water fair and square, so I carried him to Uruk; penniless, his entire fortune added to my account. I sold him at the slave-market and I''ve not seen him since. So, that was the story of my famous gem. I thank you for listening and paying for the drink.¡¯


    ¡®Wait.¡¯ The Innkeeper said, squinting his eyes ¡®-One last thing. How Come the caravan of the captain had gone awry? You said his camels were dead, cargo and all still on their backs.¡¯


    Sapphire rose. ¡®It has to do with luck. Caravaneers are lucky men, otherwise they wouldn''t return from their difficult journeys. The captain¡¯s luck however, had run out, the proverbial well drier than an Elamite whore. Scorpions, storms, betrayal, disease. It had all struck at once, wiping out without warning the man¡¯s mercantile empire. It shows that men are tiny and insignificant, helpless against the fickle will of the Gods. He was a fallen bloated body in the sun, and I was the carrion bird. And one day, perhaps, I am the carcass, and another feeds on my tawny flesh. I wish you good day, gentlemen, and good luck.¡¯


    Sapphire opened the door of the Insatiable Catfish and continued on his wanderings.


    ¡®Sir.¡¯ A voice called to him. A muscular man was leaning against the wall across the street, scarred arms crossed. ¡®This way please.¡¯


    Sapphire frowned, seeing a long blade hanging from the man¡¯s hip.


    The stranger poorly attempted a friendly expression, revealing a few missing teeth. His hairy face had the semblance of one the pit-dogs the lowfolk betted on in the sprawling shanties outside the city-walls.


    The knife-man took a careful step closer, hands now outstretched as if trying to calm an unruly child.


    ¡®My master Yayatum awaits you.¡¯ He pointed towards one of the bridges.


    Sapphire could see a large boat wedged between the canal walls there, its windows hidden behind soft blue draperies.


    Sapphire dutifully followed the guard down a slick steep stairway to the water-level and stepped onto the boat. Moving through the draperies he entered a cushion filled room occupied mostly by the sizable body of Yayatum. The fat merchant seemed displeased.


    ¡®By the piss of Inanna, what draws you to these seedy neighbourhoods.¡¯


    The boat started moving again and from outside groaning wood became audible as the large vessel scratched past the walls of the tight canal.


    ¡®I look for you¡­¡¯ Yayatum was out of breath. ¡®...all day. And I¡¯m forced to pick you up in a tiny sewer stream. Do you have any idea how much the woodwork of this beautiful boat costs?¡¯


    Sapphire relaxed on the cushions. ¡®Everybody thinks the great Yayatum remains holed up in his estate, but actually he prowls Uruk¡¯s tiniest waterways hidden behind curtains. Secretly spying on the fishermen and drunks. Who would have thought?¡¯ Sapphire¡¯s eyes fell on a pair of rough-woven sacks filled with pistachios, more than a few empty shells on the floor already. He looked back at yayatum. ¡®-A messenger would have been enough, truly.¡¯


    Yayatum leaned forward, his bulging forehead creasing uneasy frowns.


    ¡®Silence your nonsense you Sapphire nomad. Things have proceeded in far too important directions to send out servants, all thanks to you - Sarpa.¡¯


    Sapphire felt his mouth suddenly become dry and Yaya¡¯s thick neck shook as the fat man let out a chuckle. ¡®Do not look so worried my friend. I have got good news for you. I received a tablet this morning signed with the royal seal.¡¯ Yayatum breathed in deeply. ¡®The Kings says he is interested in your offer, and he will pick you up soon. He will contact you, discreetly. Its best to let things just go their way.¡¯ Yayatum licked his lips, tongue lolling out like a bloated worm. ¡®Mind telling me what it is all about, friend?¡¯


    Sapphire sighed. The secrets he carried screamed to be released. He clenched his slender jaw. If they only knew what was out there in the sands. ¡®You got wine?¡¯


    Yayatum¡¯s face became disfigured by sudden joy, mouth opening wide like the maw of some over-eager toad. His small piggish eyes sparkled. ¡®Ylana, Wine!¡¯ Yayatum squealed.


    The hairless slave-woman that had greeted Sapphire on Yayatum¡¯s estate now appeared through a screen of black cloth behind her master, handing over a bottle of red liquid. Yaya¡¯s fat pork-like fingers reached back and caressed the woman¡¯s cheek with affection. ¡®Thank you my sweetest treasure.¡¯


    Sapphire saw she hid her disgust well. As Yayatum was busy with his slave woman, Dan Sarpa fumbled with the ring on his finger, opening the hidden compartment containing Serpent-venom.


    Yayatum poured the wine into two goblets and Sapphire smiled sadly. I am sorry old friend. You have been good to me. I dont do this easily. Sapphire kept the emotions swirling within him under control, his face a mask.


    Yayatum¡¯s eyes narrowed, now almost hidden beneath the folds of fat. ¡®You seem worried, sweet Sapphire. What is it then? You know you can tell me everything. I may look like an ugly swine but I am your friend nonetheless. I know you like your privacy, but this dealings with the King¡­ It worries me.¡¯


    Shouting voices erupted from the stern of the ship and Ylana reappeared from behind the curtains. ¡®Master, another vessel seems to block our passage.¡¯ She was well spoken, her voice controlled, her accent holding the sort of elegant stiffness one found within highborn families. Yayatum must have paid quite a price for her, he decided.


    Yayatum leaned closer towards Sapphire. ¡®I told you, these damned piss streams of yours¡­¡¯ Then his fat head angled back to his slave. ¡®Well, tell them to get out of our way!¡¯


    ¡®They seem reluctant, master.¡¯


    Yayatum cursed in low tones. ¡®By Inanna¡¯s sacred clit, what you mean reluctance?¡¯ He rose up with great effort, pushing his large frame through the draperies. His sizable behind remained in the room, accompanying the waiting Sapphire.


    ¡®you damned reed-sellers! There is only space for one of us so this canal goes only one way today. Get out of my sight you poor miserables! Do you not know who I am? I am Yayatum! Away with you before I put the chain to your entire families!¡¯


    Sapphire moved his ring over the wine, releasing a single drop in both glasses.


    Yayatum reached into the pockets of his shapeless trousers, throwing a scattering of gold and silver violently to whomever blocked him. Sapphire heard the coins bounce against the opposing vessel, a great amount plunging into the waters of the canal.


    ¡®Yes, yes, finally. There you go.¡¯ He heard Yayatum say, and the fat merchant returned, dropping back onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. Sweat dripped down his swollen reddened cheeks. ¡®These back alleys house stubborn folk.¡¯


    Yayatum reached for the wine and took a tiny sip, savouring its taste. Sapphire brought his own glass to his lips, letting the liquid flow into his mouth. He nodded with eyes closed. ¡®Never have I tasted better wine than yours, my most precious friend.¡¯ Goodbye.


    ¡®Forget about the wine!¡¯ Yayatum roared with impatience. ¡®What is the secret you carry with so much mystery? Must I treat you like a whore and pay you with gold to get what I want, or will you tell me like a good friend. You have got me involved in something I dont understand¡­¡¯ Yayatum¡¯s friendly voice gained a darker edge. ¡®I dont like things I dont understand. I like to have control, you know this, good Sapphire. Dan Sarpa, I''m starting to obsess over you. Trust me when I say you do not want my obsession.¡¯


    A secret that forced my hand, poor Yaya. ¡®Not here.¡¯ Sapphire replied, a quiver in his voice. He straightened the wrappings around his head to keep his sweaty hands occupied, quickly touching the smooth surface of the blue gemstone.


    ¡®I will tell you tonight.¡¯ He lied while he collected his frantic thoughts. ¡®I travel across the world¡­¡¯ Sapphire started, momentarily forced to halt as he suppressed his sadness. ¡®... but one of the few things that make me return here is you, Yayatum.¡¯


    Yayatum dismissively waved his thick hand. ¡®And here I thought we just had a good - professional - business relationship. Dont complicate things with feelings now.¡¯ But the fat man was gloating, happy and warmed by the words of his companion. He drank deeply from his poisoned wine.


    Sapphire forced a smile on his face. ¡®Deliver me to the fish-for-grain docks. I finish some pressing matters then I come to your estate on my own accord.¡¯


    ¡®Very well, very well. Can I expect you at dinner?¡¯


    Sapphire gave Yayatum his last smile. ¡®My friend, prepare your favorite meal for me will you?¡¯


    He awoke from his own ragged coughing. Sapphire found himself lying on the floor of a drinking house, his throat constricted by swelling, and a multitude of concerned heads peering over him.


    ¡®He lives, thank Inanna.¡¯


    ¡®Thank Inanna.¡¯ Another repeated.


    Sapphire groaned on the worn wooden boards, still feeling the venom coursing through his veins. Over the years he had taken the measure of continuously ingesting small amounts of poisons, but the one he used today was a particularly bad one; and he had ingested a sizable dose of it.


    ¡®Poison.¡¯ He whispered weakly.


    ¡®Poison!¡¯ The people cried. They carried him out of the smoky drinking house and onto the canal side, the hour revealing itself to be evening. Someone gave him water and he drank small sips. A wave of nausea emanated from his stomach.


    ¡®I drank wine with Yayatum. I worry for his fate.¡¯ He said. A tear ran down his silver-grey eyes. ¡®Call the soldiery.¡¯ He forced himself up, his legs still weak. ¡®I must see for myself.¡¯


    Three boats glided through the darkening evening city, moving past the gambling and pleasure houses inviting the passing vessels with bright colours, and entering the calmer, more wealthier, parts of the city.


    Each boat was filled with a dozen helmeted city guard leaning forward on the sterns of their boats, or rowing the oars with clenched teeth. The middle boat was led by Sapphire, holding a lantern to light the way.


    Yayatum¡¯s island estate approached. They landed on its shores and the guards hastily jumped out, their ankles in the water as they drew their blades. Sapphire asked for support and threw one arm around one of the men, then limped up the path to the estate entrance. The soldiers fanned out behind him, silent save the creaking of their leather armour.


    From inside a loud wailing reached their ears and the Sapphire merchant strained to increase his pace. They ran inside the hallway and within the entrance hall he found the great Yayatum face down, his fattened body spread out on the coloured tiles like a formless slab of dough.


    Servants stood lamenting around their enormous master, felled like a pale beast of the sea dragged onto shore.


    Seeing his companion dead by his poison Sapphire burst into tears. He wept with the servants, falling to his knees as his vision became watery. Forgive me friend. I could not risk it.


    When the tears passed he scanned the slaves. His grief had receded, for now, and all that was left was cold calculation. His eyes rested on the bald woman; Yayatum¡¯s personal slave. Slowly his hand rose to point a bony finger accusingly at her.


    ¡®She.¡¯ He stated solemnly.


    The woman recoiled in confusion. Sapphire averted his eyes as he prepared the lie.


    ¡®She gave us the wine. She poisoned us. She killed the great Yaya.¡¯ The woman protested but the soldiers bound her, then dragged her back to the boats. For the last time Sapphire looked at the friend he had murdered, then he too left.

 Chapter Fourteen - Garden of Thorns

    <h1>Chapter Fourteen - Garden of thorns </h1>


    Eneduanna wandered through the gardens of the inner-city. The grass pricked against her bare feet. Here she was, surrounded and sheltered from the outside world by yet another layer. This time built not of brick and red soldiers, but one of tall hedges and rose thorns.


    Here, in this maze of green, nothing would reach her. No needs, no begging. Even the sounds of the grand city around her muffled and silenced.


    Large flower-filled squares surrounded by hedges. Forested parts, ponds, a multitude of fine walkways through carefully maintained nature. She foraged deeper into the wilder, more unkempt parts of the gardens. The paths gradually became smaller and increasingly contested by thick foliage. At her sides roses clambered up into the air on long green thorny stalks, red and white flowers. The petals had begun to fall and curl up into rotting debris in the shadows below; Summer was ending.


    The path she followed ended in a thick mass of brambles, any further access completely swallowed in its maw of thorned stems and sharp branches. It was an expansive, seemingly overnourished wall of plantlife, bearing similarity of some ill-willed elemental by its sheer expansive size, even throwing a shadow on the tall Eneduanna.


    She grimaced and pushed the brambles aside to continue.


    Eneduanna¡¯s olive skin was scratched bloody and her fine scarlet robe was torn and ripped. The brambles covered her like a shadowy ceiling, snaking green stalks curling up against her wrists and ankles, trying their best to painfully ensnare her.


    Eneduanna emerged on the other side, long brown hair tangled, face solemn.


    Here, hidden in the heart of the inner-city, the sacred ground of the revered one, the gardens of the Godess, were graves.


    Four of them, marked with mossy stones, surrounded by a green circle of near-impenetrable high-reaching brambles and roses.


    She sat down besides the overgrown graves and remembered. A single tear traveled across her cheekbone as Eneduanna closed her eyes to mourn. This little tragic circle was her secret.


    She had even thought of names; Names for her children. But their tiny, pale and malformed bodies had been fed to the earth, alongside their begetters. No life in their little limbs, no first breath in their unused lungs. Incompleted children rejected by her own womb. Stillborn after stillborn, until she thought herself unable for fertility. She placed her slender hands over her lower body, eyes closed.


    She told herself that there were more important things in this world - this one and the next, but the assurances grew weaker every time they were repeated in this garden of the dead.


    She would be a barren Godess then, destined to be alone until she grew old and weak. She began crying, the sobbing immediately recognized as weakness and halted. Eneduanna breathed in deeply and straightened her back. Her hand she moved from grave to grave to feel the earth. But there was only cold dirt between her fingers.


    Her progeny was wormwood. Could she even hope? Better to abandon, the voice within assured, but her mind wandered. Hope was strong and comforting; deluding.  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    She was not done with hope yet, she endured the painful longing, embracing it with desperation. The hope brought no joy, only sadness.


    But the tears had dried up and she was able to continue again.


    Her face a rigid fearsome mask that forced cities to bow. She left the circle of graves.


    A man awaited her before the doors of her domed temple-house.


    Grey eyes, sadder than usual. Clothes covered in the dust of travels.


    With the echoes of mourning still fading within her heart she moved to command her Hurrian.


    ¡®What of Isin?¡¯ She asked.


    The Hurrian bowed his head. ¡®I have delivered your demands to the gates of the Kingdom. King Kalbi, old lord of Isin came to listen. He gives these words back to you, Revered one:¡¯


    ¡®I, Kalbi, Royal master of Isin, keeper of bees and dogs, will allow the Idol of your High-Priestess into my city, - if she pays for its stay. Eneduanna¡¯s weight in gold and the gates open.¡¯


    Eneduanna¡¯s brows lowered. ¡®He wants to be bought with gold? Prostituted. Bribed. Fattened and honeyed, bathed in milk and roses.¡¯ She shook his head. ¡®That is not devotion. He knows what was the fate of Larsa?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ Sjerub replied softly.


    ¡®Then have you made clear to him that he, in time, will receive the same choice as Larsa?¡¯ Mercy, Cruelty.


    ¡®I did.¡¯ Sjerub whispered, his eyes downcast. ¡®I tried reasoning, when that failed I demanded a duel. The King refused. I had no option but to return. Please forgive me, Revered one.¡¯


    ¡®The fool!¡¯ The tall High Priestess exclaimed. She inspected the travel-worn envoy at her feet. Sjerub of Aratta, the tormented Hurrian Prince. She shook her head. Hope is for the weak.


    ¡®You have failed me...¡¯ She said softly. ¡®Again. I had hopes for you, Hurrian, but it seems I was bitterly mistaken.¡¯


    ¡®My Mistress¡­¡¯


    ¡®Sisters!¡¯ Eneduanna screeched, stepping away from the Hurrian.


    Scarlet women surged from the gardens around them, spears and bows ready.


    ¡®-Jail this man. Put him somewhere deep. He may overthink the severity of his sins in the darkness.¡¯


    As the Hurrian was bound and led away the stocky figure of Amalda appeared in the temple¡¯s doorway.


    ¡®Its a mistake to trust men.¡¯ The matron said soothingly. ¡®Know that we will never fail you, Revered one. We have prepared the ritual. Are you certain you are ready to partake?¡¯


    Eneduanna sighed, forcing any lingering thoughts about the Hurrian from her mind.


    ¡®I am tired of triumphs of the mud. Grant me the light of Inanna¡¯s eyes.¡¯


    Matron Amalda bowed her head, and at her back the priestess council appeared. Old white haired crones and wrinkled matrons, all dressed in the scarlet dress of their order.


    The eldest of them all, Eneduanna¡¯s first handmaiden, shuffled forward. She had been a beautiful woman when she had aided Eneduanna¡¯s birth, now she was a yellowed sack of brittle bones, eyes blind, her weak hand resting heavily on a cane.


    ¡®Come then, beautiful mistress.¡¯ The handmaiden whispered. ¡®The broth of the ritual is ready. Bring your lips to the cauldron and a time of purging will commence. You will feel madness, sickness, and pain, and your body will be brought to the brink of death. Then, Godess willing, Inanna will guide your soul.¡¯


    The handmaid''s trembling hand reached up and Eneduanna bent down so the old lady could touch her face. ¡®I love you so much Eneduanna, ever since I held you I knew you were destined for greatness. I am certain you will survive. I however will not. I will lend my last power to your ritual. When you wake I will have passed you back to the other side. Come, most beautiful shining one, let me kiss you a last time¡­¡¯ Her old lips pouted.

 Chapter Fifteen - Isolation

    <h1>Chapter Fifteen - Isolation  </h1>


    Sjerub opened his eyes but there was only darkness. He brought his hands to his face, ensuring his eyes were still there. Where am I? All was black.


    He reached his hands around, his fingers feeling only cold moist stone.


    His head bumped against the ceiling. The dark space was so low that he had to move around half-squatting with a bent neck.


    He continued following the cold wall until he reached a corner, finding another wall. He turned and carefully took safe steps in the other direction, now encountering what seemed like hard rods of what he assumed to be metal prison bars.


    He groaned. His throat was dry, pain emanated from the back of his head. He remembered a struggle with the priestesses. Then nothing.


    The Hurrian sat down, leaning with his back against the wall and swallowed. ¡®Curse my fate.¡¯ Sjerub spoke into the darkness, but there was no reply.


    He expected his eyes to adjust to the dark, but as the time passed he remained blind. Wherever he now was, there reigned a solid, heavy dark; an absolute absence of light.


    He sat and waited. Time passed strangely there, only verifiable by increasing thirst and the onset of hunger. When his patience had run out the Hurrian jumped up and felt his way towards the prison bars.


    ¡®Let me out of here!¡¯ He screamed with violent demand. His voice disappeared into the vast dark nothingness.


    ¡®Hello?¡¯ He asked, grimacing to negate the onset of rapidly approaching panic. Sjerub sat back down again, pressed his head against his knees and waited.


    He awoke, at least he thought he had awoken, at the arrival of a faint sound. A murmur at first, it gained in strength. A singing voice, soft and gentle, like the pure song of a nightingale. The singing echoed in the distance, gradually coming closer through the dark. Such fine tones, alternating between cheerful and sad, now accompanied by descending footsteps.


    Sjerub gripped the bars of his cramped jail, pressed his face against the cold, moist metal.


    He discerned something with his eyes; a glow. A glow!


    Orange light descended with the onset of rapid feet and the fine soft voice.  Feet became visible descending a suddenly visible staircase, then the naked flame of a torch. The flames surged loudly, consuming and pulling in the stale air.


    The light of fire became too bright for the Hurrian¡¯s eyes and he had to avert his gaze. He blinked rapidly. The figure closed in, driving away the darkness. In his averted position the Hurrian looked away from the fire, fixing his eyes on the space outside his cell. He saw more bars, other jails constructed of mossy stones that glistened with water.


    ¡®Oh, my dear.¡¯ The voice of heabani. Sjerub looked up with squinting eyes at the eunuch, and the painted flower man watched back with pity.


    ¡®Why am I here? The Hurrian demanded.


    Heabani bit his lip. ¡®You failed the HIgh-Priestess.¡¯


    ¡®She sent me with her words out to Isin.¡¯ Sjerub stated, trying his best to keep his calm. ¡®How can I control the whims of an old northern King? The words he spoke were of importance, I chose to live and bring them back to my mistress. I deemed it valuable, now I wake in the darkness and the cold, like a damned animal in a cage. Get me out of here.¡¯


    Heabani shook his head, crystals hanging from his ears sparkling in the torchlight.


    ¡®Eneduanna cannot afford failure. No matter how difficult the task. The men she commands are little better than wild beasts. Strict discipline and punishment is all they understand. The fact that you are still alive shows that she cares a great deal for you, Hurrian. Try to see your current condition as a positive. For now the High-Priestess has greater matters to attend to than an imprisoned mercenary. You are placed here until it is decided how to deal with you. Be glad you are not discarded and your blood drained in a sacrifice. Not yet at least.¡¯


    Heabani brought forward a large copper spoon, pushing it between the bars. Water flowed over the edges. ¡®Drink my friend. It is not over yet.¡¯


    Pity for the one Enedduanna has taken an interest in. Isolated, the surrounding layers peeled away, until he was fully alone and helpless in her complete grasp, imprisoned in the dark.


    Heabani provided a piece of bread for the prisoner and the Hurrian eagerly took it.


    ¡®How long will I be here?¡¯You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡®Only Eneduanna knows.¡¯


    ¡®I swore an oath to her, and is this how she repays loyalty?¡¯


    The Hurrian grew angry in his tiny confines, his bent back already aching. Had they chosen the smallest cell they had for him?


    ¡®You must wait to see how she will proceed.¡¯ Heabani replied dryly.


    Sjerub¡¯s scarred arm lunged forward, slipping through the rusty jail bars and grabbing hold of the eunuch¡¯s soft cloth near his little powdered throat. ¡®Listen you little shit! Get me the hell out of here!¡¯


    Heabani remained calm, making no attempt to resist or free himself from the Hurrian grasp.


    ¡®If you want to spend your remainder of days in a tiny airless box it can be arranged. I can have you chained and placed in a burial slit, with the ceiling against your nose.¡¯ His voice was very soft. ¡®Now let go of me.¡¯


    Sjerub did as he was told and Heabani¡¯s expression lightened. ¡®Have patience my friend. Now I must go.¡¯


    The eunuch looked around the miserable surroundings. ¡®I will leave you the light.¡¯ He jammed the torch in a hole in the stone wall. Then he left, while the Hurrian remained with the slowly decreasing light of a burning out torch. He saw the shadowy cells across the hallway. A fragment of bone lay on the floor in the jail across. The flame sputtered. The fire shrank, then extinguished. A soft glowing charred wood remained for him to keep his eyes on, before that too left him and he was back in the oppressive darkness.


    He sat in the nothing, waiting, dozing, occasionally crawling around to seek a way out. He rattled the rusty jail door, he struck the stone walls, and then he sat down again.


    Perpetual night covered him, aided with absolute silence. There was nothing, and he floated there on a bed of cold moist stone.


    Hours or days, it all blended together into oblivion. He knew time had passed as his thirst had returned, a great thirst, tongue swollen and parched, his blind eyes not seeing but his fingers feeling his lips breaking up. His ears pricked up as he heard a sound in the distance; Heabani was returning, with food and water, and perhaps the word of his release. It was a mistake was it not? He served Eneduanna, he served her good he did. Send me out to war for the High-priestess, let me use my blade and spear and bow. I bring heads and ears and anything she desires. Send me to Isin to make amends in blood.


    But there descended no singing, and there came no liberating light. He kept his blind eyes to the left, where somewhere in the  darkness he knew the staircase was.


    Then new sounds, soft and muffled, something rustling over the floor. Whoever it was, it was close, just outside his cell. Sjerub peered into darkness, desperately trying to discern something. He now knew there was something with him in the darkness, his hair rose and he took a step back from the jail-bars.


    He felt watched. His mind filled with the image of an enormous spider standing in the corner of the hall, its many eyes fixed upon its hopelessly trapped prey, its hairy dark legs carefully creeping closer.


    Again the soft sound, now directly before his cell. A rustling, or a clicking? His ears were imagining things alongside his troubled mind.


    His body braced and his heart rate increased. He balled up his fists, moving backwards until he felt the wall pressing against his back. He stood there, knees slightly bent because the ceiling was too low, motionless, doused in an outpouring of fear. He smelled his own sweat.


    He had endured many long nights in this forgotten pit. He had been angry, confused, but never fearful. Yet now his calm was broken. He was disturbed. Whatever was out there he sensed it¡¯s predatory intent. He sensed it¡¯s hunger. Tense moments passed. Then a sliding sound away from his cell and towards the staircase.


    A long extended flow of time passed, the undernight ruling him until his mouth was parched and his swollen painful tongue so desperate for moisture he resorted to licking the damp walls.


    Light came again, from far away, and he watched it the longest time to come closer, as if the light was crossing over a far extending desert to reach him.


    Heabani returned again, torch in his hand snapping like an unruly dog. Even the fire seemed to detest being here.


    The Hurrian barely raised his head from his slumped body resting against the prison bars. He reached through with his arms and held out his hand without looking up. He was asked something but Sjerub did not bother understanding the words. It did not matter anyway. A ragged coughing expunged from his lungs.


    Heabani handed him over his regular bread. ¡®You might not notice much down here, but outside the land is changing. The soil is dry and begging for rain, everything nearly dead to the point of their deepest, most desperate roots. Grey clouds have been forming overhead. Season of summer is coming at its end.¡¯


    The prisoner discarded the bread besides him. ¡®Water.¡¯ He grumbled. Heabani nodded. ¡®Yes, water. Autumn comes, bringing with it¡¯s many storms. Im talking rain, dear Hurrian; An outpour. When the city floods the grand canals will be washed clean, as will the sewers, the piping, the channels. The waters will rise, and at this time Uruk truly is at its best. More inaccessible, more appealing. The vast slums outside the walls become muddy and swamp-like, miserable even, for its occupants. Its a good time for recruiting. Within the great walls of our blessed city the lower wards are drowned away, and the highest estates will have their foundations submerged, rising from the waters clean and vital. Whole streets disappear. Boats navigate through the halls of clean-swept palaces.¡¯ He sighed with a dreamy smile on his face.


    ¡®What do you think will happen to these cells?¡¯ Heabani continued. ¡®You are situated quit deep, here, far below the city in fact. When the rain comes and the waterways swell from the previous confines of their streams, I expect it to flow down from those very stairs. And at the end of the storm-season when the clouds dry up, and blue shines through the clouds again, this entire chamber will be submerged.¡¯


    The Hurrian slowly pushed himself upwards to face the eunuch. ¡®Let me out then you little bastard.¡¯ He was dulled, the great flame in his heart reduced to a dozing ember, but anger still coursed easily through his veins.


    ¡®You will get out when the High priestess decides you get out and no moment before that. If it is her will to let you drown you will drown. Your life was hers since the day she spared you on those awfully hot barrens. It is her right to take it away at any time. Your life is now one of servitude, either here, with your corpse floating in flooded prison, or outside, on the battlefield, or wherever she requires you. Anything else than absolute obedience will be a failure. You should be thankful for the opportunity of serving Eneduanna. Dont you understand? - She is a living Goddess. Worship her! Throw yourself at her feet!¡¯


    Heabani left, and the Hurrian was kept in the darkness.

 Chapter Sixteen - The Message from the Desert

    <h1>Chapter Sixteen - The Message from the desert </h1>


    Sapphire blew small clouds of smoke in the already hazy establishment.


    Around him were various old men, reclining in soft seats, smoking from their nargile pipes.


    He drank from a small cup containing Arattan firewater that warmed his insides, and his thoughts were comfortably clouded by the pipe he was smoking. A soft murmur in the background as the elders discussed in hushed tones, most sitting in silence with closed eyes, one slightly snoring.


    The sound of heavy boots made Sapphire turn his head, and he saw a large dark bearded figure entering the smoky hall. Despite his civilian clothes and apparent lack of weaponry it was clear he was a warrior; The straighter than straight spine, the dominant eyes methodically scanning the occupants of the room, the more than occasional scarring, and - Dan Sarpa craned his neck to see better- yes; a missing pinky-finger.


    The warrior crossed eyes with Sapphire, then sat down in a shadowy corner, ordered a drink and emptyied it in one go. The warrior¡¯s gaze returned to Sapphire; lingering like a wolf watching a sheep.


    Sapphire sucked on the nargile pipe as he mulled his options. The King¡¯s man? - Perhaps.


    He blew out a hazy cloud and pushed himself up from the chair. He excused himself to the two elders beside him and moved to the broad shouldered newcomer. Built like a damned plough this one.


    The warrior looked up from his empty cup. ¡®River-port. Midnight. A boat will pick you up there.¡¯


    The man promptly left with quick heavy paces.


    The inn¡¯s hall was the same as it had been before. His comfortable cushioned seat stood ready for him and his pipe was still burning. Nearby two masters were arranging their armies on a board of Chattanga. But the tranquility had been broken, the calming atmosphere lost. Sapphire¡¯s outward appearance was cool, yet inside his heart was racing. The secret he carried now had a certainty of getting out. But to whom?


    Approaching a King was always a dangerous task, especially the Royal of Uruk. Nothing was ever simple in this city. Worst of all was Eneduanna¡¯s eunuch; Heabani. Sapphire knew of his reputation; under that soft powdered face, ever smiling, lived a relentless creature. A creature not shy from prodding hooks, knives, pliers, tweezers, red-hot bronze and anything else found in the deepest torture chambers. Anything for another whisper.


    Sapphire felt nauseous. He no longer had control over the situation. The stakes were high as they could be; his life, and there was no backing out now. This was why he had come back to Uruk, and he had known very well the risks of this endeavour. He preferred to have the option to slither away when things went faulty, but not this time. He would see it through. Success or failure, and at the very least make sure Yaya did not die for nothing.


    ***


    River-port was one of the busiest districts of Uruk, and even more so at night.


    The city walls ended at the river-banks and in a wide channel the great waters flowed into Uruk - quickly fragmenting and diverting into the many eager canals. Dockyards and piers reached out over the soft waves to cater to the merchant vessels. Here, under the auspicious gaze of a legion of merchants, the goods of the world flowed through Uruk.


    Ancient grand estates loomed over the broad port canal, inviting the passing boats with bright lights to their water-side doors. Nightly ink-black water flowed past gently. On its surface reflected red Uruk.


    Sapphire reluctantly strode through the masses. At night the city seemed even more crowded. The numbers on the walkways had doubled. Men and women were everywhere, cast in the light of red lanterns. Sapphire had to make way for a group of warriors, openly armed andshriveled ears hanging from their necklaces. In their wake came drunkards, beggars, and singers proclaiming their latest melodies to the masses. There were thieves, entertainers, and of course the whores, omnipresent and skillfully picking out their customers. Merchants, travelers, buyers, sellers. RIch and poor, everyone eager to pick the nightly fruits of Uruk.


    He reached the docks. A small ship had just moored, unloading cages containing tiny dark skinned men. They were size of children, but held black beards like adults. They had large mouths with broad rows of white teeth gnashing in rage and their tiny limbs were pulling on their bars. A curious sight.


    ¡®You with the gemmed turban, are you looking to purchase?¡¯ The equally dark naval-trader asked from his deck. ¡®Kecil-Kecil. Twenty silver per head. They are caught on a tiny island in the far East. They can be very entertaining in gladiatorial fights. Do not mistake their small stature for lack of aggression, but douse them with enough wine and they can even be tamed enough to pet.¡¯


    Sapphire glanced at the tiny caged men, their dark eyes now watching him, shining with hatred.


    ¡®No thank you.¡¯ He walked off to the edge of the pier.


    Sapphire stood at the water side and he saw the essence of life pass by. Boats and walkways, everything crowded with excitement. He envied their happy faces. Even the destitute beggars he envied, for they had not his burden.


    An ornate boat glided towards him, the prow of the ship carved as a swan''s neck. That¡¯ll be it then. As the vessel slid past Large bearded men pulled him aboard. It rounded the river-harbour and glided towards the open river.


    Sapphire was quickly checked for weapons. Then with firm hands gripping his arms he was brought towards a cabin at the back of the boat. The ship was similar to Yayatum¡¯s - may you forgive me one day - although less richly decorated.


    The cabin contained, as Sapphire expected, the royal himself. Commander of warriors, King of Uruk, Kitun the bearded rock of flesh and bone, the bull-man. His large frame was hunched over a small table. Two round dark eyes pierced towards Dan Sarpa under thick frowning eyebrows.


    ¡®Sapphire.¡¯ The King rumbled.


    He took up the empty seat at the opposite end of the table. Sapphire¡¯s stomach twisted, a faint glimmer of sweat glistening on his forehead.


    ¡®Even the walls of my palace have ears.¡¯ The King spoke. ¡®Here on the waters is where one can find privacy. My men have their ears filled with wax. Whatever it is you want to tell me, you can do it now. Undoubtedly that little eunuch knows you want something, but I tried to keep him at bay tonight, at least for a few hours. Now speak, Sapphire.¡¯This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    The merchant forced himself to remain calm as he prepared his words. ¡®I come from the western sands¡­¡¯ He stalled, a sense of panic creeping up to him. It would come out now. All of it.


    ¡®Yes, what then?¡¯ Kitun asked. ¡®You got my curiosity Sapphire. It better be worth my while or this city will dawn another day without her favorite caravaneer.¡¯


    Sapphire coughed nervously. ¡®Its, I¡­¡¯ He struggled, finding the words refusing to come out of his mouth. He swallowed as he saw a shadow creep over Kitun¡¯s face.


    ¡®You mumbling merchant. Spit it out.¡¯ The King reached out with one large hand and pulled Sapphire¡¯s small frame over the table. A bronze dagger shined in candlelight, the hilt carved from ivory, pointing at the merchant¡¯s throat.


    ¡®I dont take you for a fool Sapphire, so dont act like one. Say what you have to say. Dont waste more of my time.¡¯ He let go and Sapphire slithered back in his seat.


    ¡®I went into the deep of the desert. I found something there.¡¯


    ¡®You told me already.¡¯


    ¡®I return with a curious proposal. Its one of marriage. For you Lord of Uruk , someone has requested your attention.¡¯


    Kitun frowned. ¡®Who then?¡¯


    Sapphire bit his lip. ¡®Please do not take my words as blasphemy.¡¯


    Kitun¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡®Tell me now or you won''t survive the next minute.¡¯


    Sapphire took a deep breath and pushed away all resistance. ¡®I collected all the information I could, every rumor I pursued. I navigated my way through the sands and there I met her. In a world of sand and rock. She is there.¡¯


    ¡®Who is this she?¡¯ Kitun barked.


    ¡®Eneduanna¡¯s sister.¡¯ Dan Sarpa¡¯s words lingered in the silent cabin. The oars splashed in the water and bumped against the boat¡¯s hull. Distant laughter from the docks, yells, clinking glasses, while the two men sat without sound, staring at each other.


    Kitun¡¯s expression consisted of a mixture of disbelief and disgust. ¡®What lies¡­. You peddle m¨¦, merchant?¡¯ His flat wide nose wrinkled in anger, creasing like that of a lion. The King¡¯s knuckles tightened around the knife. ¡®You take me for a f¨®¨®l?¡¯


    Sapphire felt the sweat trickle from the fold of his turban down his neck. ¡®Her name is Semiramis.¡¯ He quickly said. ¡®Eneduanna¡¯s sister.¡¯


    The King¡¯s sizable body recoiled in fear. ¡®Shut your damned venomous snake-mouth Sapphire!¡¯


    Anger turned to panic, and the King pushed back his seat until he bumped against the wall behind him. ¡®The sacrilege, the blasphemy you speak off¡­¡¯ Kitun began breathing heavily. ¡®-It must be punished by death.¡¯ The King held up a single finger. ¡®There is only one: Eneduanna.¡¯


    Sapphire slowly shook his head. ¡®The mother birthed seven, not one. And they are all carry the same blessed blood. From what I have heard Eneduanna the first born did not want to share the nest. Accidents started to happen, then open murder commenced. She suffocated her siblings in their beds, drowned them in the baths. Divine children, just a few years old. The old mother, ailing, exhausted and ancient, could not control what occurred. By my knowledge I swear I do not know what daughter still lives or does not. Semiramis was smuggled out at the age of eight. Know that this occurred a long time ago. The tall do not age like we do. Eneduanna took the temple, killed or drove away her kin, exiled her mother when taking power - as is tradition - and as I am told, the High-priestess has continued to hunt down her sisters. It is likely Heabani knows of the things I tell you, Eneduanna¡¯s right hand he is, and Eneduanna does not hunt with her own hands.¡¯


    Kitun shook his head. ¡®You must speak carefully now. I deem your blasphemy absolute. I serve Eneduanna, whatever sister she has I care not. Its far from my city, away in the desert then. Here, h¨¦r commands are absolute, not her sisters. If Eneduanna, like you said, still hunts these sisters, or sister, who am I to go against her command? It is she that lives in the temple of the Queen of Heaven. It is she that speaks with the spirit of the Godess. No. Place your hands on the table, Sapphire, so I can bind them.¡¯


    Sapphire did no such thing. He remained unmovable. His anxiousness had passed, and all that remained was calm and coldness.


    ¡®I have gone through great effort to bring you this information. Kill me if you must, but I shall not go until I have said all.¡¯


    Kitun groaned. ¡®There is more?¡¯ He did not seem eager to hear, rather to forget.


    ¡®How loyal are your troops, Lord of Uruk?¡¯


    ¡®Blasphemy.¡¯ Kitun said again. ¡®Inanna will punish you.¡¯


    ¡®Inanna smiles upon all her daughters. I asked how loyal.¡¯


    ¡®Absolute. Blood of my blood. And they¡¯ll be no-ones puppets to die. I have enough difficulty keeping them alive with one living Godess around. We are on the verge of total war with two, possibly three Kingdoms and you come asking how loyal my men are, for your damned, yes damned, desert-....¡¯ Kitun fell silent and shook his head in confusion. ¡®How do you know she is genuine? This sister of the mistress¡­. Does she look similar?¡¯


    Sapphire¡¯s silver eyes narrowed with joy as he nodded. ¡®Tall. like Eneduanna.¡¯


    ¡®Silence!¡¯ Do not speak h¨¦r name. She will know these things.¡¯ Kitun¡¯s voice had turned to pleading.


    ¡®Semiramis survived the sands. She bent a native tribe to her will. Hardy, small in number, but they serve. She seeks to ascend, Kitun, in the same way your High-priestess is undoubtedly trying to merge with the Heavenly powers. Semiramis tires of the poor dry nothingness. Instead she eyes the riches of the River Kingdoms, the vast amounts of devoted, the slaves, the many prayers. Her sorcery is powerful. If you only saw what I saw¡­¡¯


    ¡®I have heard too much of your poisonous babble, Sapphire. I already serve my Godess, and she is magnificent.¡¯ The blade trembled in the King¡¯s hand.


    ¡®Listen to me now, King, you can make your judgement later. I would not have come without clear purpose. Are you content to serve, or do you wish to rule? If your troops are loyal prepare them for uncertain times. Tall Semiramis is offering you marriage. She already knows your name, your image is in her head. All you need to do is open the door of your house to her. Who are you to refuse a Divine?¡¯


    Kitun said nothing, mouth opened slightly, staring at the table.


    Sapphire leaned forward. ¡®I am only a carrier of words. Words destined for you. A promise worthy of a King. You can do with these words as you please. In time, Semiramis will find the means of inquiring of your desire. You are not forced into anything. I would advise you to keep this proposal to yourself, the High-Priestess will not let you live with this knowledge even if you refused. Now my words have gone dry. My burden is gone. I killed my friend Yaya to keep the secret, I am ready to leave, or to die, whatever you decide. For the tribe and for her I do what I must.¡¯


    ¡®You killed Yayatum?¡¯ Kitun shook his head, cursing softly. ¡®What have you done Sapphire¡­ You bring poison to my ears, burden me with things I did not ask for¡­¡¯


    ¡®We are all mere pawns for the Gods, dear Lord of Uruk.¡¯


    Kitun sighed. ¡®And what am I to do with you? If I let you go and Heabani gets his hands on you he will find out what you said to me. He has his way of pulling knowledge out of people, and from what I heard he can be very persuasive. Better to have you killed then.¡¯


    Sapphire shook his fingers, showing the many rings. ¡® I am aware of what Heabani does with his victims. But if I end up in his nets he will only find a corpse. I carry many poisons. My veins will course with venom before I talk. Killing me will not improve the relations between you and the tall mistress. She might even turn hostile. Better to let me go, and I can assure you, no word of this meeting will ever pass my lips. Now our meeting has been conducted I would prefer to return to the desert. I will take my caravans and travel far through the sands.¡¯


    The King thought for a moment, tapping his knuckles on the wood of the table. ¡®You leave tonight?¡¯


    ¡®I will.¡¯


    ¡®Can you swim?¡¯


    Sapphire nodded.


    ¡®Good.¡¯ Kitun rose from his seat, took hold of the merchant¡¯s arm and dragged him out of the cabin. ¡®Leave this city at once. Pray you never see me again.¡¯ Then he threw him effortlessly from the boat. The nightly water awaited Sapphire. It was cold.

 Chapter Seventeen - Caged Destiny

    <h1>Seventeen - Caged Destiny </h1>


    In the dark he awaited, mind and body slowly degenerating.


    There were few stimuli, his senses picking up nothing more than cold moist stone and the hard walls of his confines. The hunger and thirst became permanence, his movements and thoughts slowly extinguishing. He was turned a statue, awaiting reawakening, locked away in storage with dust gathering on his skin.


    Light.


    Empty eyes sensed it but the husk remained immobile. Slowly the consciousness returned to the prisoner. He awoke from his slumber and turned his head away from the approaching torch.


    He saw the filthy confines of his cell, the stone glistening with miniscule droplets, and the black rimmed nails of his fingers. He knew who approached, by now the Hurrian had learned to recognize Heabani¡¯s soft footsteps.


    He stirred his tired body, slowly moving the limbs that did not want to move. Eyes finally adjusting, he shambled forth. Sjerub awaited the bringer of light with his filth covered hands on the jail bars.


    Heabani had soft green paint above his eyes, and this time he wore a black wig of long straight hair.


    ¡®Good day my Hurrian friend.¡¯


    The Hurrian stared at the eunuch. Day....


    He opened his mouth. ¡®How much longer?¡¯


    Heabani¡®s expression turned to apologetic sadness. ¡®My dear, I dont know. Here, water and bread. And even, look what I got you -¡¯ He opened a cloth revealing a spherical orange fruit.


    The Hurrian quickly took what Heabani offered, his hunger and thirst overpowering his conscious thoughts. He crawled back to his corner and squatted down with his back to the eunuch to feed himself. He stabbed the fruit with his teeth, devouring it like he was holding raw meat. Sweet juice dripped over his stubbled jaw. The lines of his cheeks were defined by malnourishment. He ate the bread and drank the water, shielding himself with his back from the onlooking Heabani.


    When he was done he sprinted back to the bars with sudden ferocity, straining his muscles as he vainly attempted to pull them down.


    ¡®I swore an oath!¡¯ Sjerub roared against the small man, small pieces of moisturized bread flying out of his mouth.


    Heabani replied with a thin smile, gently wiping the spittle from his powdered cheeks. ¡®You mustn''t give up hope, Hurrian. Do not forget your name.¡¯


    ¡®I have no name.¡¯


    Heabani said nothing and the Hurrian¡¯s upper lip raised like a snarling dog.


    ¡®How long, how long have I been here?¡¯


    ¡®Over a month.¡¯


    The prisoner groaned. ¡®One month and I have become the animal.¡¯


    Heabani turned, preparing to leave him again.


    ¡®How much longer?¡¯ Sjerub asked, desperation slithering through his vocals.


    ¡®I dont know.¡¯ Heabani replied, his tone harsher now.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡®Wait.¡¯ The prisoner said. ¡®There was something here, something else. I hear it come and go in the dark. I sensed it.¡¯


    Heabani halted. ¡®Do you know where you are?¡¯ The eunuch shook his head when his eyes lingered too long on the ruined man, then placed the torch in its holder, transferring the responsibility for the prisoner to the snapping flames.


    He left, and the comforting light of fire departed soon after. The Hurrian was hurled back in the confined pool of darkness. It was suffocating, grinding away at his mind, slowly, like waves that batter the coast until its once proud cliffside rocks collapse into the sea.


    Time accelerated, halted, reversed. He was subject to its flows no longer. The greasy strands of hair on his head lengthened, the filthy nails of his fingers had grown to claws. His body made slow breaths but h¨¦ had retreated deeper, somewhere else. At the bottom of the sea he waited, surrounded by black water, slumbering until someone released him from the depths.


    ¡®Soldier of Sin.¡¯ A mocking voice from the dark.


    He shook up, his exhausted mind retaking control of his abandoned body. The voice was of a woman, but somehow twisted as if the tones were bent out of shape before reaching his ears. The words were hollow, unnatural and full of joy at his state of being. He quickly recognized it as Eneduanna¡¯s.


    A faint light filtered through the bars and into his cell, emanating from a lightsource within the staircase at the end of the hall. Darkness still reigned within the cells, but it had lightened just enough so Sjerub could see the outlining shapes of his hands, feet, and the tight confines of his prison.


    Before the bars he discerned a large shape. The lock of his jail turned and the door was flung open with a loud protest of rust; The lock too had been awakened from its slumber.


    Sjerub sat with his back against the wall, unmoving. Was this the woman he had dreamed about, obsessed over, the one who filled his ears with warm honeyed words? Radiant she had been. Now there was just a dark figure, and it moved, it lowered. She entered his cell and he felt no love, no desire, it all had been replaced by fearful repulsion.


    The cell¡¯s ceiling had already been too low for the Hurrian, and the tall priestess was forced to crawl inside, and she came like a four-legged abomination bearing a human face.


    Her long hands clawed forward, her knees slid over the floor. Her mouth was open, a black hole of nothingness. Her eyes were pits without bottom. The outline of her long hair secured the nocturnal head closing in on him.


    His mind and body were paralyzed, it wished to flee, but there was no space left to go. The cold stone of the cell pressed in his spine, seemingly pushing him back - back, to the great creature that came for him.


    He gritted his teeth, terror turning to anger. He wanted to strike, but although his hands curled into fists, they did not lift.


    A touch of skin, her hand feeling its way like the antenna of an insect. It touched again, moving up over his leg.


    She brought her full frame into his low-ceiled prison, covering him, her weight pressing against him. She brought her dark frightening face close to his, her nose inhaling to gather his scent. Her breath caressed his face, a myriad of scents and smells - overwhelming for his numbed senses.


    His anger broke through his paralyzed mind, flaring up and rapidly spreading through his frozen limbs. Finally he was able to move and he raised his arms with intent. Despite his extended languish, there was still strength in them. But as he reached out he found only soft supple flesh. Warmth emanated into his fingers. How long since he had he felt warmth?


    Her hand clutched his mouth, preventing him to speak if the urge would rise. Her lips were cold as she pressed them against his, followed by her long tongue that invaded his mouth.


    Now resting fully atop him, she raised her dress and mounted atop him, slowly sliding him in. Powerless as he was, pinned under her wet needy thighs and her elongated body filling his entire cell, he gave up his resistance.


    Base animalistic desires filled him. He felt her body, her breasts, felt her curls taunting him were they landed. She rode him in silence until their bodies became slick with sweat. Then came the moans and grunts, echoing through the dark halls of his misery.


    It went on until his body ached, though it could not stop moving in her rhythm. Speed increased, the senses lighting up like candles, painful in their intensity. She curled her back as if whipped, hands pressed onto his chest, her nails digging into her skin. She opened up a passageway to an ecstatic realm, every movement of their hips another step on the stairs to reach it.


    He joined her in that shining place and she took his seed.


    A moment he held onto her tightly, strong sinewy arms clasped around her hot and sweaty elongated body; a short moment of being one with his mistress.


    Then his arms lost strength and her slippery body moved past his hold. He let go, utterly collapsing, and he fell. Down from paradise and descending back to the material realm, down into the dark imprisoned earth. She crawled backwards and left him.


    The jail slammed shut. He sat in the dark, exhausted and confused. He wished for her return, but he only received darkness and cold stone.

 Chapter Eighteen - Eneduannas Descent

    <h1>Chapter Eighteen - Eneduanna¡¯s descent </h1>


    Eneduanna lay crumpled in her bed like a discarded rag. This was the price of the Ritual, she told herself; Her veins polluted with toxins, the clarity of her mind fading into oblivion. Avatar of Inanna.


    Her head was tormented by headaches and seizures. Visions filled her mind without warning, before fading again without memory. Prophetic images of future and past came and disintegrated in waves of pain and exhaustion that had her nearly drooling at times.


    She groaned softly under her sweat-soaked sheets. Eneduanna¡¯s radiant skin had turned pale.


    Her closed almond eyes widened to narrow slits as she heard someone approaching.


    Heabani carefully opened the door to her chamber. Her vision was unfocused and blurry, but she recognized the small bright-coloured silhouette.


    A jab of pain struck behind her forehead and she dropped her head back onto the pillows.


    ¡®Mistress..¡¯ Heabani¡¯s voice reached her somewhat dimmed, but the worry in his voice was noticeable.


    ¡®Im fine.¡¯ She spoke with a whispered hiss, slowly dealing with the sea of pain inside her head. Heabani shuffled closer. ¡®Is there something I can do to aid your condition, most revered one?¡¯


    ¡®Your concern. Is noted.¡¯ Another nail hammered behind her eyes.


    The presence of Heabani seemed to make things worse, forced her to actually be present consciously instead of drifting away in dis-eased tranquility. The command to banish him rested on her tongue, but she refrained from driving him out just yet. Undoubtedly he had come to relay important matters of some sort.


    She raised herself up slightly. From partly opened windows she heard the sound of heavy rain, occasionally interrupted by a thunderous rumble.


    The light in the room was dim, only lit by a single sputtering candle.


    Heabani¡¯s melodic voice reached her again. ¡®I just came from below. I feed him, watch him....¡¯


    ¡®What of it?¡¯ She spoke with irritation, though her narrowed eyes opened further.


    ¡®The Hurrian is weakening, rapidly. I fear sickness followed by death.¡¯


    ¡®He is strong. He will manage.¡¯


    ¡®With the regime he is under¡­¡¯


    ¡®Do not doubt me, servant. He has simmered down there for a good amount. In time I will see if his meat indeed has become tender. Do not concern yourself too much with this soul. You have more important matters to attend to, do you not?¡¯


    ¡®Yes, of course, naturally. I have been working hard to serve you. I, and all of us, most Revered one. New armies are built before the gates of the city. Recruits are whipped into shape, forged into warriors under the stern command of the King.¡¯


    ¡®The King¡­¡¯ Eneduanna repeated weakly. She had difficulty with listening to Heabani¡¯s words, her energy used elsewhere, sucked away into an invisible pit.


    Heabani frowned. ¡®I''ll make it quick, mistress. As promising as the preparations might be, not everything is going well. Our food supplies are dwindling. The grain we took from Larsa will last us until winter. There are simply too many mouths. The other Kingdoms are realizing our needs and increasing their export prices. Ur has halted any trade with our ports.¡¯


    Enedduanna groaned, this was the last thing she wished to discuss. ¡®Let them starve.¡¯


    Heabani¡¯s powdered face made a series of nervous twitches she knew preceded him going against her will. ¡®Hungry people are unruly. Starving people riot and turn against their rulers.¡¯


    ¡®Youre suggesting the city will turn against me?¡¯ Eneduanna laughed, embracing the pain it brought. ¡®-They will eat each other before that happens.¡¯ She shook her head, her voice showing signs of exhaustion. ¡®Gather the males, young and old, and we will march them all off to die. Less mouths to feed. Empty the slums, the strong and devoted will survive.¡¯ She felt her lucidity falter, her consciousness pulled deep inside again alongside a wave of nausea. The tall priestess fell back between the pillows.


    Heabani bowed his head. ¡®But what off the Isine demand? We have the gold. It can be done. Ur and Eridu stand no chance without their northern ally. We will extend our influence in all directions.¡¯


    Eneduanna¡¯s eyes were closed but the mouth of the High-priestess opened. ¡®She has taken too long already.¡¯


    ¡®Revered one?¡¯


    Eneduanna turned to her side, showing him her back. ¡®Go. now.¡¯ Her voice was distant and hostile.


    Lighting flashed from outside, illuminating the room for a short fraction of time, as the eunuch quickly fled from her chambers.


    The rain splashed outside. From the heavens came a torrent of water. It battered her shutters, she heard it spatter on the roof. The rain came from the sky and it held no regard for the laws of the city, the barriers, the gates. It went wherever it wanted, flowing through gutters and rooftop pipes, cleaning dust and grime that had accumulated for months, flowing over, dripping down. The water entered the crevices, the small alleys, the secluded courtyards. It would fall in the thorny gardens, on the hidden graves. It would melodically tap on the helmets of guards, and it would ripple on swelling canals. It went, unstoppable, pulled down to whatever depths needed to be filled, and down she went.


    In her mind Eneduanna saw a light fall from heaven and descending into the world below. Seven gates awaited barring the light from entering where none returned.


    The Image of Inanna stood vibrant, her form coiling and swirling, the colours of red and gold and blue and green, like a chest of gemstones she was, and she contrasted sharply with the drab landscape around.


    A great gate was before her, old and weathered, ancient. Barred, sealed. Of grey and black stones and rotting cedar wood.


    Inanna, the holy Queen of Heaven, her hair dancing like snakes and curling upwards to the sky from where she came.


    With a slender fist she banged on the Gate. The strikes were thunderous, deafening, six times a crushing blow on the old wood.


    Eneduanna who listened clasped her ears in pain. Inanna turned and watched her; eyes of azure smokeless fire. The Queen of shining colours raised her fist again for the seventh time.


    Eneduanna raised upright from her bed, a loud desperate gasp for breath as her lungs filled again with air. Coincidentally a loud crash of thunder, an illuminating flash in the distance, and then the darkness again. She was covered in sweat. Her head pulsed. She took a few moments to recollect what she had seen, this time remembering.


    Already she felt the pull backwards, back to the pillows and the soft blankets, and what lies below the bed, below the world.


    Her mouth moved without her command and it spoke: ¡®Seven.¡¯


    Eneduanna attempted to get to her knees, to crawl out of the bed. But the bed would not let her go. The sheets stuck to her like glue, binding her with rope and chains and slowly rattling her back in. Unfriendly bed, she lacked the strength to escape its grasp.


    Eneduanna¡¯s thoughts were clouded. She struggled to remain upright. A fear of what would come when head would fall back on the pillow.


    ¡®Aid!¡¯ She yelled with all that was left of her strength.


    The door of her chamber opened and a pair of priestesses rushed inside. Behind them the eunuch, face lined with expectant worry.


    Soft hands touched her bare shoulder, preventing her body to fall onto the bed and into the elsewhere.


    ¡®Its coming.¡¯ Eneduanna murmured. ¡®She is testing me, testing my body.¡¯ She groaned as another jet of pain surged through her head. Her spine, likewise, tingled and shook as if a burning snake was coiling through. It bit and filled her with venom.


    Eneduanna swallowed. ¡®Listen well and do as I say. Have the people of Uruk pray, in the wet streets and on the flooding canals have them go on their knees, have them soaked and devoted. Inform them the storm will bring down the Queen of Heaven. And you, my priestesses -¡¯ She raised a weak hand to touch their faces. ¡®I take trust in you. Dress me, prepare me for the world where the birds have human faces. I can¡¯t do it by myself. Dress me in the scarlet robe of ladyship and place in my hands the rod and ring. slide over my right ring-finger a circlet of gold and fasten to the robe the golden pectoral inscribed with the words ¡®¡¯Lu janu - janu¡®.


    Painted eggs should be struck in the fabric over my breasts and hang from my neck a beaded necklace of lapis lazuli. Lastly wrap my hair and head in an azure blue scarf. As I lay with closed eyes, decorate my skin, my lips, my eyes...¡¯


    Eneduanna¡¯s felt her eyelids become heavy, her resistance faltering. She bit her lip to remain awake, and she tasted blood iron. ¡®-Lastly, bring me the Hurrian. Cleanse and purify him as fast as possible and deliver him before I am already gone.¡¯


    The priestesses rushed away. Heabani remained with the ailing Eneduanna. She felt her eyes prick and become wet. She felt afraid. ¡®She wishes me to do this, but I might not survive. From this slumber I might not awake.¡¯


    The eunuch tried to assure her with a confident smile. ¡®I know you will. You are our High-priestess, our light in the dark. Guide us to heaven. Who else but you, Revered one?¡¯ He bowed his head in devotion, but her fear only increased. The onset of panic came, but she was not strong enough to move. Her full lips quivered as they parted. ¡®Watch over me Heabani.¡¯


    His soft hands caressed her hair while they waited. The rain continued and a violent wind emerged, swirling, raging, its force spiraling around and forcing the clouds to move along its path. It blew through the gardens and rustled the branches, shaking off the petals and leaves. Above the noise of the storm faint prayer became audible.


    ***


    The sound of dripping water had awoken him long before he felt cold liquid wash over his toes. In the dark there was nothing to be seen, but he heard the sound of the stream. Its gurgling grew stronger, soon an audible flow down from the staircase in the distance.Stolen novel; please report.


    Water rising and sloshing at his ankles the Hurrian rushed to the bars, pulling them again like he had done so many times, and like all other attempts he found himself locked and barred.


    Would this be his end? A miserable end. The Hurrian grimly thought, cursing loudly in the dark. He felt the waters rise, he heard it splash over the steps and into the rapidly expanding pool. Damn you Heabani, may the Gods curse you, little bastard without cock. And you, Eneduanna -


    His ears twitched as he discerned something descending rapidly. The glow of light again, and with it his hopes multiplied.


    ¡®Here!¡¯ Sjerub yelled with hoarse voice. A pair of Priestesses with soaked robes hastily descended with bare feet, wading through what was already a pool of knee-deep blackness.


    They inspected him with curious eyes, then quickly opened the lock and pulled open his jail. He stumbled out. He was out.


    ¡®With us, now.¡¯ They commanded. ¡®-The most revered one¡¯s mercy is boundless.¡¯ They guided him up the stairs, a steady downward flow of water making the steps slick. It was like climbing upwards through a river, and the current was increasing in strength. The spatter of rainwater extinguished the torch, but the three continued. Above an exit, where faint light shined.


    Sjerub blinked his eyes with perplexion as he emerged from the subterranean prison. Where had the sun gone, the shining bright and scorching rays, the light that pounded the land into dust and desperation?


    The sky was grey and black, and it was as if a sea had been released from heaven. There were no droplets, there were direct streams, jets of water falling to the earth. A swollen, pregnant storm howled through it all. It spiraled around, with the storm¡¯s centre directly above them like a great round eye watching them.


    The wind whipped into his face, lashed his naked-wet body. He struggled, but the priestesses pulled him up and forced him to continue. He passed gardens whose pleasant flowers had been removed and withered, leaving only hard stalks with endless thorns.


    The Temple soon rose before him. Its many windows showed warm orange light, contrasting with the darkening outside world.


    Inside the loud noise of the storm was dimmed, thick stone walls sealing them off from the outer world. The Hurrian¡¯s long brown hair dripped and he shivered from the cold.


    The ticking of rain from the ceiling, where a circular glass dome was being battered by the storm, great flows of water running over its surface as if the temple stood at the bottom of a lake.


    ¡®Come, come.¡¯ One of the priestesses urged with impatience. They went through doorways, over stairways and through long dim-lit hallways. Occasionally a candle was shining from a corner or an alcove. The frequency of the lights increased until they reached a large cedarwood door, far higher than the others. The height of Eneduanna, and the Hurrian tasted a bittersweet brew of emotions. Before the door a radiant floor of candles almost blocked the way. The priestesses pushed the door open and the Hurrian followed.


    Inside the light was even stronger, a sea candles surrounding a long bed.


    In the midst of the light Eneduanna lay, her skin shining with sweat, eyes half closed, her dark brown hair taking up a shine of beaten copper. On the floor, and everywhere else around, hooded priestesses, eyes cast downwards as they whispered hymns and incantations.


    Heabani was hunched over the High-priestess holding one of her limp hands. The eunuch¡¯s head turned to see the Hurrian enter, then immediately returned to his mistress without saying a word.


    ¡®Come, man, come¡­¡¯ The voice of Eneduanna, soft but still expectant of obedience.


    His naked body shined in the candle-light, the scars running over his deteriorated muscles, his wetness slowly drying up in the warm glow of the chamber.


    His mistress gestured him closer and Heabani stepped back for him to lean over towards her mouth, where soft whispers flowed out. ¡®Your name is Sjerub of Aratta. I will make you Sjerub of Uruk, prince of my blessed city. None will hurt you. Out of the prison, I grant you your freedom.¡¯ Eneduanna gave a faint smile. ¡®You served me well, Hurrian, you can go - if you wish.¡¯ There was no intoxicating voice, no binding of his mind, just a soft and vulnerable line of words.


    She groaned softly and closed her eyes.


    Sjerub stepped back. Freedom. White garments were placed over his shoulders. Prince. He did not understand. The powerful and tall High-priestess had become silent, her mouth twisted in pain. ¡®What is happening?¡¯ He asked. He leaned towards Eneduanna again but the priestesses held him back.


    Heabani placed his hand on his struggling arm. ¡®The High-Priestess is going into ritual. Her soul is to be judged, cleansed and prepared. Things will happen in this chamber which you do not understand. You must leave now, dear Hurrian.¡¯


    Faintly hearing footsteps move away through the cold hallways of her temple, Eneduanna gave up her feeble resistance. A powerful overwhelming wave crashed over her. She sunk into her bed; deeper and deeper she went. She could see the priestesses look at her with troubled faces, Heabani as well. Her eunuch said something, but she could not hear, his mouth moved but he was voiceless. The others in the room were weeping.


    She attempted to speak back but there was a void around her that absorbed her words. Down she went, descending until the people watching here were but a tiny image, a small frame, a tiny speck of light, and then nothing. The void absolute.


    For the longest time there was nothing, she saw nothing, although she felt as if she was falling. Faster and faster she fell, cold air blowing past her skin, and a wind roaring past her ears in deafening noise. She closed her eyes and she saw bright colours, impossible forms and shapes.


    Then it was silent again.


    She opened her eyes and found herself collapsed on a soil of gritty grey dirt. Her mouth was dry and she was thirsty. Slowly she pushed herself up, seeing moistureless drab-coloured sand and dust around her. The land stretched out into low hills of grey earth and dark weathered rocks.


    A land of nothing reached until the horizon, illuminated weakly by a black sun.


    She turned around and there was a great gate. She had seen the gate before in her vision.


    Old grey and dark stones arching over ancient partly-rotten wood, wet splinters curling off its surface.


    She could walk around the gate, a single gate surrounded by nothing, and its doors were closed both ways.


    This place troubled her, the dim light, the colourless world. It made her feel anxious and vulnerable. But here it was where Inanna had sent her.


    Golden circlets around her wrist rinkled as she raised her fist to the wood, and he she shouted aggressively. ¡®Open up! I am all alone and I want to come in!¡¯


    Her raw voice trailed away into the desolate world. A cold wind blew past her, blowing dust over her fine scarlet dress. She prepared to knock again as the door opened up just a sliver.


    A single yellow eye, level with hers, peered through. ¡®Who are you?¡¯ An unfriendly male voice demanded. The voice resonated, making the dust around the gate tremble and form patterns.


    ¡®I am Eneduanna going to the east.¡¯ Eneduanna replied.


    The yellow eye averted. ¡®Eneduanna. En-ed-u-anna. Hmmm - I do not know that one, your name is not in the ledger.¡¯ And the eye returned, scanning her from head to feet, rolling over the contours of her breasts and hips. A content grunt came forth from behind the door. ¡®If - you are Eneduanna going to the east, why have you travelled to the land of no return? How did you set your heart on this road?¡¯


    Eneduanna placed her hand on the wood, pushing slightly. ¡®Holy Inanna sends me.¡¯


    ¡®Inanna¡­¡¯ The doorman grumbled. ¡®Very well.¡¯ He spoke with rolling sigh. The door opened and a large figure became visible, two yellow eyes on a face marked with deep dark grooves, lines all over his skin so his features were difficult to discern. He wore clothes like that of a man; simple woven garments, but his feet were like snakes, thick and coiling.


    ¡®I am Neti, chief gatekeeper. I guard this world were you should not be, but you seem eager enough so I¡¯ll let you in.¡¯ He raised a grooved long nailed finger. ¡®-On one condition. Take off the scarf around your head, so I might see that beautiful hair of yours.¡¯


    Eneduanna met the doorman¡¯s expectant yellow eyes, then ripped off the cloth and revealed her long dark-brown hair.


    Neti nodded contently, a thick tongue licking his lips, and he slithered away from the entrance.


    She followed with uncertain steps. Through the gate and into another world, as arid and hopeless as the previous. Across the grey-yellow sand stood another doorway, similar to the previous.


    Neti already awaited before it. ¡®Like what you see, beautiful En-e-duanna-who-is-sent-by-Inanna? This is my world.¡¯


    A flock of black birds flew overhead. They were small like sparrows but had human faces. They landed atop the second gate, and their screeching was loud and painful to the ears. Neti grimaced. ¡®Away with you, damn birds. And silence for my guest!¡¯ He gestured towards Eneduanna and the birds with human faces followed his hand, beak-mouths closed for a short moment before erupting in screeching laughter.


    ¡®Neti, neti! When will I get beautiful feathers?¡¯ A ragged bird asked. ¡®Give me green and blue and yellow and I will leave you alone.¡¯


    ¡®I''ll give you a roasting in the oven, little soul, if you dont leave now!¡¯ Neti thundered, dust forming up over the sand like lightning. His grooved face showed the hint of redness, and long crooked teeth became visible from his opened mouth. The birds flew up, laughing all the while as rose in the dark sky. They circled high above to where their screeches were dimmed and faint.


    Neti reached out his hand to Eneduanna. ¡®Tall one, tall one, I dont see many tall ones pass through, but neither see I many living. Come if you want, Eneduanna. Truly, you dont belong here but if you want you should tell me to open the door for you.¡¯


    ¡®Let me in.¡¯ Eneduanna stated. ¡®I come here with divine purpose. Send me all the way.¡¯


    Neti smiled and reached for the lapis-lazuli necklace around her neck.


    His ugly hands were far too eagerly for her liking, so Eneduanna stepped back. ¡®Away with your hands, whether you are demon, man or snake-abomination, you will not place your fingers on me without permission.¡¯


    Neti bowed his large body slightly. ¡®Ofcourse, of course. Accept my apologies, Eneduanna from above.¡¯ He kept his hand open expectantly. ¡®The necklace then.¡¯


    Eneduanna took off the lapis-lazuli beads and handed them over. Neti opened the second door leading to more nothingness.


    A burned and charred land, red hues over black. Another lone door stood on the abyssal plain. Eneduanna angered when she sighted the third door. ¡®What is this? You want more payment? What kind of game are you playing with me Neti?¡¯


    ¡®Be satisfied, Eneduanna, a divine power of the world below has been fulfilled. Eneduanna, you must not open your mouth against the rites of the world below. Now, if you wish to continue, give me the painted eggs that hang over your breasts.¡¯ He slithered closer, and one of his large snake legs slapped over her feet, sliding back fast after he had touched her skin. ¡®-How warm you are, Eneduanna-from-above. Now give.¡¯


    Eneduanna unfastened the painted eggs and tossed them at Neti¡¯s thick snake appendages. Through the third gate she went, and at the fourth gate she took off the golden pectoral, at the fifth she took off the golden ring around her finger, and at the sixth gate the rod and the ring were taken from her hands.


    Neti awaited before the seventh gate, eyes gleeful and his pockets filled with Eneduanna¡¯s possessions.


    ¡®How much further?¡¯ The High-priestess demanded.


    Neti licked his lips. ¡®This one is the last, Eneduanna-from-above. Behind here is the true below; the palace of the underrealm. But what can you give to pay for your passage?¡¯ He cocked his head. ¡®No rings, no jewelry...¡¯ Neti shook his head with a sigh, then fixed his yellow eyes on her.


    ¡®-Take off your dress.¡¯ He demanded with sudden harshness.


    Eneduanna didn¡¯t move and Neti slithered closer. ¡®Your dress, great mistress, and I open the last door for you.¡¯ He swayed like a cobra, rising above her as his snake legs swelled and lengthened.


    ¡®You touch me you die.¡¯ Eneduanna snapped back. ¡®Repulsive beast. Its good you live down here in the land of sad dust. May you never feel the warmth of a woman, solitude instead of love.¡¯


    Neti grimaced, lowering again with his swollen feet coiling around themselves on the ground. ¡®That is not nice of you, traveler. You are far from home and should be more friendly with me.¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯ Eneduanna spoke. ¡®Youre not the God of these worlds. You are just a doorman.¡¯


    Neti frowned. ¡®Silence!¡¯ Dust shot from his snake-feet in spirals. ¡®-And what do you know of love anyway?¡¯ The doorman continued on softer tone, ending in a chuckle.


    Eneduanna straightened and raised her chin with pride. ¡®I have entire cities worshipping me. Many thousands, men and women, old and child. From the day they are born they learn to love me.¡¯


    Neti shook his head and wiggled a grooved finger at her dismissively. ¡®Worship is not love Eneduanna. Not true love at least. And all quite one-sided. Tell me, do you have many lovers?¡¯


    ¡®I have at my feet whomever I decide.¡¯


    ¡®Your heart is cold Eneduanna. Who needs pity then, you or I? Have you ever opened your heart to another? I bet its like a locked cage and within there is an arid flower deprived of nutrients.¡¯


    Eneduanna¡¯s mind flashed back to the garden of thorns. Just a moment before she suppressed it again.


    Neti gasped. ¡®A-h-h-h, that I tasted, that I felt. There might be hope for you yet, the great Eneduanna-from-above struck by the same affliction as her subjects. It is suffering, beautiful tall one, but I truthfully say I enjoy the suffering. Now, let''s get back to the issue of the last portal. It leads to the palace of Ereshkigal and I still require payment. Now what do you have to offer m¨¦?¡¯ He grinned. ¡®Oh, I know. Your dress, give me that beautiful dress.¡¯


    She sighed and lowered her cloths, first revealing her breasts under fine collarbones, continuing over her slender body until she hesitated at her hips.


    Neti was silent, yellow eyes wide, savouring every moment. The tails of his feet flapped restlessly. She pushed down the last part of the dress, scarlet cloth lowering, showing the triangle of dark hair, and the garment of ladyship dropped to her feet.


    ¡®Pick it up for me.¡¯ Neti groaned.


    Eneduanna kicked the dress towards him, covering herself with her arms. The hairs of her skin pricked up as a cold wind blew past, rustling of dead leaves.


    The doorman picked up the dress with tenderness and opened the last door. She walked past him and entered where Inanna commanded her to go.

 Chapter Twenty - Caravan West

    <h1>Part III - Sister</h1>


    <h1>             </h1>


    <h1>Chapter Twenty - Caravan West </h1>


    Dan Sarpa pulled on the camel¡¯s reigns, the large beast of burden reluctantly moving along his gentle nudging. A heavy load of spice-chests and rolls of woven carpets were fastened around the large hump. Large brown eyes looked back at the sapphire merchant with dissatisfaction, and the camel¡¯s large drooping lips grimaced to show rows of large teeth.


    Over the years Sapphire had learned that camels were smarter than they generally seemed. Their memory was surprisingly good, capable of holding decades-long grudges against whomever slighted them. Seeing the camel¡¯s reluctance he knew something had displeased the large beast.


    ¡®Come now, Medif.¡¯  Sapphire patted the long woolly neck of his mount. But Medif stopped in his tracks and behind him the caravan halted. The beast turned his head away and gave a snort.


    Medif was not a simple camel; he was lord amongst them. Large, fattened and capricious, with many wives and even more children. This old camel had seen the reaches of the world, crossed the deserts, drank from the saltwater of the seas, battered through icy mountains and journeyed over glittering glass covered sands. No, Medif required respect, and he would go no further until amends were made.


    The sapphire merchant nodded in understanding, taking from his pockets a wrinkly apple. The fruit disapeared in the camel¡¯s mouth but Medif remained immobile; the bribe had not been enough. Sapphire continued with a long leek, yet Medif stared back defiantly as he chewed away the fibrous stalks. Finally the merchant presented a cube of sugar, taken from Yayatum¡¯s dining table. Medif¡¯s hairy droopy lips gently moved over the merchant¡¯s hand to take up the treat. With a bow of his large head the camel agreed to continue.


    Sapphire glanced backwards, somewhat anxiously, at the line of thirty camels and red the city in the distance behind them.


    Hazy in the heat, its walls and towers simmering and dancing, he could see grey clouds amassing over the city, slowly pushing away the blue of summer. Goodbye Uruk, and all I had to do there. Forgive me Yayatum, may your soul be not too mad with me.


    And now a return to the sands. He guided a convoy of camels, traders and guards. Normally he would be joyed for the return to freedom, to walk the open dunes and sleep under skies bright with stars. A release from the cramped suffocating confines of cities where the masses roamed. Uruk most of all, possessive with its endless delights and satisfactory promises.


    Now he only felt anxious to cross the land as quickly as possible.


    ¡®Mister Sapphire!¡¯ One of the hands called from the back of the convoy. A young lad, head draped in similar turban as his master, though without the prized blue gem. The lookout pointed back at Uruk. Sapphire squinted, groaning as his sight did not discern anything besides vague walls and towers. From his hip he took up his ocular; taken so long ago from a victim of the sands.


    Sapphire peered through the lens and his eyes arrived at the gate of Uruk. The doors were open and riders came out. Lances, helmets and the waving scarlet star-banner of Eneduanna. Red robes on black haired horses, twelve of them.


    Sapphire cursed softly, adjusting his turban as his mind formed up a plan.


    ¡®Double speed. Arm yourselves!¡¯ He called out.


    His men cursed like their master had done moments before. With yells they drove on the camels to greater speed. Sapphire saw his men draw long knives and take up bows from the camel-saddles. They were with twenty: aged experienced men with worn leathery faces, grooved and etched by desert sand.


    ¡®If you look over your shoulders you can see men from Uruk approaching. Some of you know why they have come to pursue us. For those that do not, trust my word when I say they are not coming to exchange sweet words. These men are seeking to kill us. If that is not enough incentive to resist remember that your are contractually obliged to follow my orders. Listen not to their words for they will speak only lies. They want to deliver you to the eunuch so he can torture you and toss your corpse in the canals. My command is simple, protect yourself against these collectors and follow me west.¡¯


    He inspected the caravaneers. Silent men, dark eyes calculating, wearing long wide unrevealing robes. Sapphire had picked his followers carefully, initiated them into what was hidden west in the world of nothing. They knew what was expected of them.


    ***


    The red horsemen climbed over the last dune behind the caravan, the hooves of their mounts causing a cascade of sand as they descended. Seeing their approach Sapphire gave the order to halt and form a circle. His men were quick to move, experience from long desert journeys showing.


    ¡®Weapons low.¡¯ He hissed, and Dan Sarpa stepped out to greet the Urukians with one hand raised.


    ¡®Good day brothers!¡¯


    The riders slowed their pursuit, trotting the last stretch of distance calmly until halting twenty paces from the Sapphire merchant. Their horses sniffed the dry air and smelled the camels, neighing uneasily.


    The foreman of the riders could be identified by amount of ears he possessed, an ungodly amount of disfigured wrinkled lumps of flesh hanging from his neck by a leather lace. The chief had a pair of enormous wide ears that emanated from the side of his head, and the middle of his face was occupied by a large nose that angled down to his upper lip. His bald head was tanned dark and his forehead etched with deep horizontal wrinkles. Tiny black eyes shined out of the Elephantine head. Whatever fineness the Urukian may have been graced with at birth had now been covered by a multitude of scars, some placed ritualistically. The ugly man was called Mysradi; A man about whom hushed rumors were told in back alleys and lower quality brothels, and Sapphire had heard. They were not pleasant stories to soothe the worried mind. Mysradi was a hunter of men. A silencer working for Heabani.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Sitting calmly in the saddle, Msyradi glanced at the convoy¡¯s drawn weapons. A ragged pink scar ran over the dark skin of his throat, showing where his neck had been cut open in the past. A wound so terrible no man should have survived, but Mysradi somehow did. His vocal cords however, had not recovered, and the voice that addressed Sapphire was a primitive guttering, and the voice vibrated like a single worn string still remaining in an old instrument, clicking and ticking with reluctance as the collector opened his mouth.


    ¡®Sapphyr. I would like to ask you... to accompany me back to the city.¡¯


    Sapphire felt like he was being addressed by a scorpion. He wondered what age Mysradi was, but the leathery battered face gave no clue of years. Perhaps the hunter was born this way, disfigured and dark like a shriveled plum, or perhaps he had been roaming the barrens for decades in service of the Temple...


    Sapphire straightened his turban. ¡®What for? Come to collect taxes?¡¯


    Msyradi¡¯s thick leathery lips opened in a grin. ¡®You left so early. Master Heabani has not had the chance to speak with you, and he¡¯d like a word.¡¯ The words were commanding and unfriendly.


    Sapphire nervously fumbled with one of his rings. ¡®Afraid I cannot comply. No time, no time at all.¡¯


    He took a step back to the caravan. Mysradi followed with his horse, hooves of the beast stamping menacingly after the merchant. Mysradi''s great ears twitched, picking up the faintest sounds. ¡®Afraid I must insist, Sapphyr.¡¯


    The hunter showed a round clay tablet, stamped with the image of a songbird. ¡®The seal of Heabani. By the will of Eneduanna -¡¯  The other mounted warriors at his back made quick blessings. ¡®- Comply now.¡¯ Msyradi drew a long curved blade, and the other riders fanned out behind him, lowering their spears.


    Sapphire bit his tongue as he gathered his courage. Then he screamed a shrill command with all the power of his lungs could muster: ¡®Protect the caravan!¡¯


    Surprise flashed over Mysradi¡¯s face as a multitude of arrows were spat out towards his pack. The cry of a beast in pain, Horse staggering high with wide eyes not understanding, a pair of arrows sticking out from its flanks. The red riders spurred into action, in the chaos difficult to see who had fallen, and they charged into the caravan.


    Sapphire ran back in haste. He heard horse hooves thunder behind him, a quick peek over his shoulder showing Mysradi in fast pursuit.


    ¡®Sin-ner! Trai-tor!¡¯ Mysradi clicked after him, before being blocked off by a riderless horse in panic.


    The red men clashed with the caravaneers, and likewise the camels bellowed and snapped with their teeth at the half-tamed Urukian horses, who kicked back in fear.


    Vision reduced by thick dust Sapphire threw himself to the ground, camel feet and horse hooves pounding into the yellow sand before his face. Boots stormed past. A man fell down besides him, neck open in a great red gash. Sapphire had to admit: he was a coward in battle. He was no fighter, his small frame not accustomed to physical struggle. So Sapphire hired men to fight for him, while he tried his best to keep still, awaiting until it all would be over, for better or worse.


    The clash of violence halted as quickly as it had started and strong hands lifted him from the ground. ¡®You¡¯rite master?¡¯ One of his guards.


    Sapphire looked around; seven red robed bodies lay scattered over the sand, one of them still groaning after being crushed by his own dead horse. Five riders galloped away in a cloud of dust, returning to darkening Uruk as fast as their mounts would allow. From their own six dead and four wounded; roughly half his men compromised.


    ¡®What to do with the horse-man?¡¯ The guard gestured with bloody sword towards the half-crushed rider, who groaned helplessly in pain.


    Sapphire shrugged. ¡®Leave him.¡¯


    ¡®Sir?¡¯


    ¡®I said leave him. And we need to move fast now. Killing the High-Priestess'' men rarely goes unpunished.¡¯


    From the fallen riders Sapphire picked up a partly-torn banner, stripping the fabric from the pole and carefully folding it up and placing it in Medif¡¯s saddlebags. The eight pointed star of Eneduanna.


    ¡®Umal, take a third of the camels and go north for three days, then continue towards our original destination. You know the way.¡¯ The guard nodded sternly. ¡®As you wish, master.¡¯


    Sapphire continued to another caravaneer, a snub nosed figure busy cleaning his knife in the sand. ¡®Arenaten, take a third, go south. You remember the path you must take?¡¯


    ¡®Carved in my heart, master. You will see me again, Godess willing.¡¯


    ¡®Godess willing.¡¯ Sapphire agreed. ¡®Now go, all of you. Our lady awaits.¡¯


    The caravan split in three, a moment chaotic, last greetings and words exchanged, and with Uruk still looming in the distance, camels were led north, west and south.


    ***


    Crossing the rapidly growing dunes of yellow sand, there appeared a rising ledge of reddish rock that seemed to defy the desert. A figure of Eneduanna stood there, tall and painted identical. She watched to the west into the great sands. Sacrifices and gifts of passing caravaneers and travelers lay at her feet. Pieces of bright fabric were tied around the statue for good luck, and the coloured cloths danced in the dry wind.


    As they came upon the statue Sapphire ordered to halt again. He was left with five camels and four armed caravaneers, the smallest group of the three.


    ¡®We are too slow. Release the cargo.¡¯ The merchant spake, feeling his mouth rapidly dry out by the hot desert air. His men hesitated as their hands touched the fine soft fabrics fastened to the camels.


    Sapphire shook his head. ¡®We need to pick up the pace my friends. We no longer need to worry about coin and debts, forget the marketplace. Drop it all to the sand, everything save food and water. Unfasten the camels and steer south. What I carry with me is worth far more than spices and gems. Being captured by Heabani¡¯s hounds equals failure to our mistress.¡¯


    He gestured at Eneduanna-to-the-west, towering over them on her high rocky ledge. ¡®Besides, there are worse places to loosen a caravan¡¯s goods. We may worship her sister but she is still powerful. Dedicate those possessions you now discard to the name of Eneduanna. Let us try to not anger her further as we move into the perils of the great desert.¡¯


    Begrudgingly the caravaneers dropped heavy laden chests to the ground, the desert floor around the statue soon covered in tapestries, gold, wood carvings, gems and spices.


    All their lives they had fought to protect goods such as these, traveled far and wide, protected them from bandits and desert storms while their skin burned and their spit had turned to dry powder. But they now left it behind, mounted the camels and followed the sapphire turban. Their eyes glanced back at the abandoned goods, worth many fortunes and fit to furnish a palace, but their direction remained steady. Ofcourse each of them had filled their pockets with fistfulls of incense and gold.


    Sapphire swayed calmly on Medif¡¯s proud back, mind fixed on Semiramis beyond the dunes. Grand and tyrannical, beautiful and divine. He already wondered how she would reward him.

 Chapter Twenty one - Hunt the Heretics

    <h1>Twenty one - Hunt the Heretics </h1>


    Sitting on the veranda of Yayatum¡¯s estate, Heabani pursed his red mouth. His large decorated eyes followed Mysradi¡¯s boat as it landed ashore.


    ¡®Tell me, what do you have me to say?¡¯ The eunuch asked. ¡®Sapphire is ready for extraction?¡¯


    Mysradi ran up the steps to the estate and did not speak until he was next to the eunuch.


    ¡®The opposite.¡¯ He whispered, eyes cast downward in submission.


    Heabani noticed a dribble of blood flowing down Mysradi¡¯s dark veiny arm.


    ¡®It seems my suspicions, as they often do, have been confirmed.¡¯ The eunuch gently replied. ¡®But I wonder how a group of traders were able to strike down a pack of Uruk riders, most of all led by you Mysradi. Your reputation has suffered. Are you getting old? Need I replace my trusted, beloved hand with someone possessing of ¡­ fresher blood?¡¯


    ¡®We are all getting older.¡¯ The scarred warrior droned back in a soft wheeze, glancing at the pompous white wig on the eunuch¡¯s head. ¡®They were hardened men. All trained for war. Sapphyr was waiting for us. I killed three - traitors but we were outnumbered. My men dead or dying I thought it wiser to return to you.¡¯ Mysradi gripped his throat with a painful expression, the long sentences straining his vulnerable voice.


    ¡®In that regard you have handled properly.¡¯ Heabani conceded with a sigh. ¡®Sapphire is the worst type of creature. I assume it was he that also poisoned Yayatum. I liked Yayatum, he was a good asset. I will take up my base of operations in his estate for a while, go through his records, establish some council of traders. Despite the troubles you and I share gold still needs to flow. Why Yaya needed to die I still dont know. But he knew something, something Sapphire didn''t like?¡¯


    Mysradi shrugged. ¡®I wouldn''t know.¡¯


    Heabani wetted his lips. ¡®We dont indeed, but I will find out.¡¯


    The eunuch¡¯s age and exhaustion showed through his cosmetics, the layer of skin powder breaking up by deep grooves of old age.


    ¡®I am sending you after him, of course. Do you already suspect why Sapphire is so dangerous?¡¯


    The nostrils of Mysradi¡¯s large angled nose twitched.


    ¡®Another one?¡¯ He asked carefully, a wet clicking resounding in his throat a few moments after he had spoken.


    Heabani nodded. ¡®Another one. Who else can bring men to hide from the light of the temple? It was the one called Semiramis, apparently still alive. When I became Eneduanna¡¯s eunuch the matrons informed me of this particular exile, and over the years I have done my best to track her. My predecessor had almost caught her, I was told, when the high-born dove was but a little girl. ¡®¡¯Almost¡¯¡¯; the word I hate the most. I have made attempts of course, but I only drove her deeper into the southern sands. So far she went I thought her fallen over the edge of the world.


    Now it seems she has returned. My whispers from the west have dried up, beyond the walls my eyes are blind. Listen well Mysradi, your primary concern is capturing Sapphire; Alive. If he however were to die during a hasty interrogation it would be acceptable. The merchant knows too much, and his vile acts have earned him a death¡¯s sentence.¡¯


    Heabani looked out over the waters of the passing canals. Birds on Yayatum¡¯s island estate chirped in the trees around them.


    ¡®Be quick about it Mysradi! This situation better be resolved by the time Eneduanna wakes from her ritual. Trust me when I say she will not be eager to hear about her sister. Now Imagine what she will do when she finds out a merchant has betrayed, poisoned and murdered her servants, and got away with it? Heads will roll Mysradi...¡¯ Heabani scraped his throat. ¡®Once Sapphire is dealt with I want you to search for the sister. When you know return to me. I need a location, a region at least, and the number of her following. I am granting you fifty men, horsed, cameled, equipped with whatever mounts I can extract from the merchant¡¯s guild. You will depart immediately. Dress for the sands Mysradi, and may the wind be at your back.¡¯The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Mysradi held in his mount as he saw the tall figure standing amongst the sands.


    They had reached Eneduanna-to-the-west, and fifty red men dismounted in her shadow. They took off their helmets and went to their knees in communal prayer, prostrating themselves before the statue. After prayer and tribute, the pack of red looked at their leader for guidance.


    Mysradi moved his camel around, eyes fixed on the ground below him, following tracks. They led north, west and south, and the sand of the desert was already slowly eroding the imprints.


    Time is fleeting.


    ¡®My-men.¡¯ Mysradi vibrated hoarsely. ¡®We have ridden in silence. You know who I am. what I do. Today we are hunting special prey. To the west lives an impostor of Eneduanna. A desert sorceres that ensnares men with her lies. But there is only one Divine. One mistress. One Goddess. Her name is Eneduanna and she is our High-Priestess. Praise Eneduanna.¡¯


    And the men praised her name.


    Mysradi continued. ¡®Famed Sapphyr has been ¡­ led astray by the hand of this witch. I encountered him this morning. He had no remorse in killing men from Uruk. I have wounded his caravan, but Sapphyr escaped. Sapphyr and his followers are heretics. They need to be killed before their sickness spreads and escapes into the wider world. They have betrayed ¡­ the queen of heaven.


    Now this place seems dry and without life, but there are wells and places of shadow for the patient. Keep calm, conserve your water and spare your mount. WIthout it youre not getting back...¡¯


    Mysradi coughed painfully, spat out a wad of slime, then continued in grated whisper. ¡®Now it is time for the hunt.


    There were three paths but they chose west. They tracked until there were no tracks left, and Mysradi was left to rely on his instincts. They rode on in a cloud of dust, pressing their mounts while their prey was still close. Suddenly Mysradi halted. He smelled the air, caressed his old trophy-ears with closed eyes, then decided to change course towards a  great mountain of sand towards their north. His camel groaned, as did the camels of his men, and the horses of his pack were trailing behind even further, legs sinking deep into the shifting sand. With difficulty they reached the top, and Mysradi had a view over the great desert around them. Orange sun was lowering over the dunes, giving the entire land a burned bronze colouring. Mysradi¡¯s throat clicked contently as he sighed a small group of camels were on the horizon, just a few silhouettes of the four legged humped striders, illuminated on the crest of a sand-hill before disappearing into a lower valley again.


    Mysradi checked his pack, seeing his warriors restless and eager. The half-wild Urukian horses neighed with foam at their mouths.


    ¡®Kill them.¡¯ The old scarred hunter croaked. His bald leathery dome gave a slight shine of sweat. His large ears were fixed forward as if he had tracked his prey through the desert by their sound alone. ¡®-And take their water. Do not touch Sapphyr. He won''t fight back anyway.¡¯ He groaned in a final rattle. The dry air was worsening his damaged vocal cords and he had spoken too much today.


    Mysradi squinted his beady eyes, hoping to see a gem-like glistening amongst the distant caravan. At his flanks warriors mounted upon horse and camel galloped forward. The riders held long lances and bows. They split in two red swarms, moving to pincer a party of some four camels and their treacherous handlers. It would be over quickly.


    Mysradi leisurely cantered his camel after his riders, seeing no need to exhaust his mount. One hand returned to his necklace of ears. Many he had taken but only those that had challenged him were worn. Sapphyr would make a fine trophy. A star around his neck, he¡¯d wear the merchant with pride.


    His camel ploughed up over yet another mountainous dune, a slow struggle against the restless sand. Once at the top Mysradi could see the hunt already over. Red figures on pale dark haired horses and yellow camels milled around the carcasses of their prey. Mysradi said nothing, but made a threadbare humm. With inquisitive attention he watched. No fallen Uruk¡¯s, no shame this time. And no escaped victims, no pursuits still occuring. A clean hit, the poor camels riddled with arrows, and the caravaneers scattered around, one with a broken lance in his torso.


    The happy conversations of his men fell silent as Mysradi joined them. He peered down the bodies. Tall, lanky men wrapped in simple robes. One would almost think them innocent. Mysradi jumped to the ground with heavy boots of dark animal-hide. He turned the corpses over, inspected their faces. In death they seemed calm, asleep, little sign of the violence that had ejected them from the world just moments ago. But there was no prized Sapphyr.


    Mysradi wanted to scream in rage but thought it better to save his vulnerable voice. ¡®Steer back west. West we¡­ go.¡¯

 Chapter Twenty Two - Sacred Tent

    <h1>Chapter Twenty two - Sacred tent </h1>


    Perched between a circle of camels and a small fire of brushwood the five travelers ate strips of dry meat, small rations that were just enough to stave off the worst of hunger. A few swigs of conserved water accompanied their meagre meal; Insufficient for many, but the caravaneers were used to the limitations. Their bodies were adjusted to the regiment of the desert and did not complain. A cold breeze brushed over the camels against which the caravaneers sat. Above them in the sky countless stars and a bright crescent giving a weak shine over the dunes.


    The caravaneers were still wrapped in their extensive bindings to keep away grains of gritty sand and the scalding touch of the sun. They slowly chewed as they stared into the small fire in their midst. Their shoulders were tensed and their necks somewhat retracted, rigid sitting statues whose hands held long knives at the ready or gripped uneasily around the hilts of their bows.


    One of caravaneers thought he heard something, peered out into the darkness, then returned his gaze to the fire as it snapped and threw upwards a flutter of sparks. They were in absolute silence, tired eyes troubled with uncertainty.


    ¡®She is great.¡¯ Dan Sarpa spoke. His turban had lowered until it slid over his thin eyebrows. His four fellows jerked their heads towards him.


    ¡®Magnificent.¡¯ The sapphire merchant continued, voice assuring. ¡®When I first saw her I was just with a few, now I¡¯m with many. How close have any of you been with the High-priestess in Uruk? Seen her figure from a distance perhaps. That one has no need for men like you. But her sister, Semiramis -¡¯ His words became hushed as he spoke the name of his mistress. ¡®-Sh¨¦ will appreciate. She has need for men like you. She will take you in with open arms...¡¯ Sapphire fell silent, scanning the faces of the caravaneers. Such hardy men, skin hard leather and limbs sinewy, even they could falter.


    On tales of magnificence and promise they had been drawn to the occulted allure of her sister, with all the hazards it entailed. But Sapphire had seen, not heard, and he trembled at the thought of being with her again. His heart beat faster with excitement and want, suppressed frightened lust, and a sense of purpose surpassing fear of men; even those from Uruk.


    ¡®Men, pay attention.¡¯ Sapphire commanded. ¡®I will show you her touch, the loving mark she places on the skin of her followers.¡¯


    He raised his long robes to show his thin frame, pale freckled skin glowing in the light of fire until he reached his chest, where thick white scars of of branding permanently read:


    The exalted one reaches out and binds her servants with excruciating pain, her touch searing hot as it delivered blessings. How it had hurt, Sapphire recalled. He had suffered. But he could not deny it contained a hint of pleasure. His screams, the spit dribbling from his clenched teeth, mere steps to a paradisiacal union with his divine mistress.


    Sapphire lowered his robes again. ¡®I serve the wild dove, the beloved red. And so will you. You are chosen. Let the rest waddle in mud, misery and within the bounds of the sheepfold. Soon there¡¯ll be no more uncertainty, no more doubt. She will be there and at her feet you will lay.¡¯


    ***


    Their travels continued by day, resting at night with fire if possible or huddled against each other shivering in the cold desert night. The great sea of sand was crossed and black mountains appeared on the horizon, isles of black volcanic rocks arising from the seemingly endless dunes.


    The rocks heightened and narrow canyons soon swallowed the fellowship, like black gates of an ancient fortress. Burning sun made way for shadow. A few resistant grass-stalks were embedded in the steep rock sides.


    One of the caravaneers spotted a desert¡¯s hare, a small furry animal with a sand-coloured hide and elongated ears. It showed a curious snout over a higher ledge of jagged black stone, looking at the passing camels further below. An arrow pulled it from its hiding place with a shriek, the hare falling down and its twitching body retrieved.


    ¡®Fresh meat.¡¯ One of the caravaneers stated triumphantly, the dead hare raised high to the others. Sapphire nodded, then gently pressed his legs against Medif¡¯s sides, urging the proud camel to continue the journey. Five camels made their way through the canyons in silence. A labyrinth it was, but Sapphire knew the way. They circled, pushed through and ascended to emerge on an uneven plateau. The sun enveloped them again with its oppressive heat.


    From the plateau they could see over the duneland from which they had come in the east. The camels sat down on the rock and Sapphire scoured the horizon with his ocular. Nothing. The desert was blissfully empty, the wind had wiped out their tracks, and a careful sense of safety approached Dan Sarpa. These here were Semiramis¡¯ rocks, these here were Semiramis¡¯ sands. No hunting wolves trailing them. As his tensed shoulders relaxed his stomach gave a grumble.


    ¡®How about that hare?¡¯ He asked.


    The hare-hunter noticed the upbeat in his master¡¯s tone and worked on the rabbit with a faint smile. They collected brushwood from the rocksides, breaking the dry branches and lighting them to a small fire. The smoke of fire could be a risk, but this far from Uruk Sapphire felt confident. It would also signal to Semiramis¡¯ men that they were close; Undoubtedly a few hardy faces were hidden within this elevated landscape.


    Suddenly one of the camels rose up, a warning growl escaping its elongated throat. Sapphire walked over, seeing a small black scorpion scuttling over the rock plateau. He flicked his fingers at one of the caravaneers. ¡®You, kill that scorpion and bring me its body. Try to keep it in good order.¡¯


    The chosen caravaneer walked over, pulled a long blade and carefully took position. ¡®An Inkmaker?¡¯ He asked and Sapphire nodded.


    The caravaneer was unmoving for a while, then swiftly struck to impale the little scorpion on the tip of his shortsword. Its tiny feet twitched as it was raised towards Sapphire, who did not accept until the little creature had curled up safely into death.


    Finally seeing the scorpion moving no longer, Sapphire took it from the bronze blade and walked back to the campfire, where the hare now had been skinned completely into a fleshy lump.


    He sat down like a weaver and gently placed the dead scorpion before him. Out of his deep pockets he took small silver tools and set to dissect the creature. Raising the black chitin Sapphire severed the stinger and sought to identify the poison sack that contained the valuable, potent venom. Sapphire took out a glass vial into which he squeezed out the fleshy organ. Then he carefully took a few droplets to fill one of his ring¡¯s compartments. A profoundly excruciating toxin. He washed his hand with a few swishes of their rationed water, rubbed it in the sand for good measure, and then waited until the hare was roasted.


    The small group of caravaneers ate eagerly, the taste of fresh meat welcome after days of dried strips and old grains that sucked the moisture from one¡¯s mouth. They ate until the sun started to lower.


    ***


    ¡®The time has come to go again.¡¯ Sapphire stated, sucking the marrow from broken rabbit bones.


    ¡®We are close and we will take no more rest until we have reached h¨¦r. By nightfall you will be in h¨¦r presence, my men, my brothers.¡¯


    They re-entered the dark canyons. They followed a ledge against the rock wall, the path bringing them into a valley. In red and black evening, tiny glowing lights became visible in the distance. As time passed the lights grew larger, showing them to be tents illuminated from the inside like oversized lanterns. Forty of them, gathered around a greater one; a massive structure of fabrics and ropes, great and circular. Their path swirled through the rocks down to the basin where the tents stood.


    The sudden whistling of an approaching arrow made the Sapphire merchant instinctively freeze. A wooden shaft landed before his camel¡¯s large feet, clattering over the stones. The small caravan of five riders and their mounts halted.


    Sapphire looked around, seeing figures arise from the rock side above. They had burrowed themselves like ticks and emerged in the gloomy half dark. Stones rolled down as they descended. Dark haired men pointed Spears and serrated arrows at the caravaneers. Their expressions were difficult to read.


    The mountain men were dressed in rags, had curling unkempt beards, and volcanic ash had been rubbed on their skin and in their long dark greasy strands of hair.


    ¡®Ho.¡¯ Sapphire held up a hand in greeting. ¡®Ho. Greetings. I have come to bring gifts to your mistress.¡¯


    He was replied with hard stares. Sapphire smiled nervously. ¡®You don¡¯t recognize me?¡¯ He pointed at his gemmed turban. Then he gestured at his small following. ¡®I know the men that accompany me, they come to serve.¡¯


    One of the wildmen barked something, and the group clambered back up the rockside, scattering amongst its crevices and holes, fusing again with the dark rock. The barker remained with two of his men. He seemed slightly better off than the rest, three golden rings of various thickness on his black-nailed fingers and a decorated knife at his hip, of the type one usually found at the side of a wealthy merchant. The wildman gestured with a quick neck movement for the Sapphire merchant and his caravan to follow, and hastily led them over the path down into the encampment of tents.


    A banner stood the camp¡¯s entrance, showing the sign of Semiramis: a crude red dove on white fabric.


    Night was settling in, and in the darkness not many were outside. Those that Sapphire encountered were all men, one carrying buckets of water from a nearby well, another two busy with butchering a goat, and they all gave the same expression; unfriendly empty eyes that followed the newcomers with haunting gaze.


    From the tents no sound came. No music or laughter, no raised voices. Through the tent-canvases unmoving silhouettes were visible. The black silhouettes slowly brought food to their mouths, sharpened knives, or just sat still rigidly. An exception to the silence was the large central tent, which upon closing in revealed itself to be patched together from many different fabrics of various colours and patterns. Here drums and lyres and the flute were audible, inviting them into the soft-lighted entrance.


    ¡®Wait. Here.¡¯ The dark haired man ordered, before entering himself. Shortly later he re-emerged.


    ¡®She awaits you.¡¯ He said with a bow of his head, and disapeared into the darkness.


    Sapphire entered the pavilion eagerly with long strides, no longer able to contain his excitement. The floor inside was covered in thick woven colourful carpets, gritty sand showing where they did not reach. An overhanging oil lamp shined red light over a tight corridor with walls made of cloth. A gentle flute lured him in, through small rooms and walkways, the tones simple and comforting. A long naked leg daringly showed around a corner and Sapphire ran forward, but the chamber was already abandoned when he reached it. Feminine laughter came from nearby and the flute continued. Sapphire ran, face sweaty, frantically, feverishly searching though the great tent. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Then he stumbled in a large room, furnished with pillows and many shining lights. There Semiramis awaited, standing in the middle of the room.


    Semiramis¡¯ tall body was raised high, and she played the flute with closed eyes. With startling realization Sapphire realized she was naked. Her skin was lighter than that of her sister; pale and fair like porcelain. His eyes started to pull towards her intimacy, then he realized he was facing the Divine and he hurled himself before her feet. Looking up with shivering body he saw Semiramis, gazing back with contentment. Contentment!


    She had almond shaped night-black eyes. Her slender, child-like face was graced with long silken-straight auburn-red hair, cropped straight over her forehead. Her mouth smiled gently, bringing small dimples to her smooth light-skinned cheeks. Not as tall as Eneduanna, more finely built, but still towering high above the men she commanded.


    Semiramis put away the flute and squatted down before the kneeling merchant, Sapphire nearing ecstasy as her scent filled his nose. She smelled of spice, ripe fruit and sweet sweat. Her long fingers took hold of his head, penetrating under his turban and digging affectionately through his hair. ¡®Dan-Sarpa.¡¯


    The merchant bowed deeper. ¡®My Goddess!¡¯ He exclaimed. ¡®My everything. I have traveled to you with success, magnificent one.¡¯


    ¡®A good journey, yes?¡¯ She asked softly, cocking her head slightly as he drowned in the black pools of her eyes.


    Sapphire stammered. ¡®I, -¡¯ He took a deep breath to calm his tongue. Do not disappoint her, Sarpa.


    ¡®I spoke with the King of Uruk. The seeds hae been planted and he allowed me safe passage out of the city. With careful optimism I say he will bow to you, instead of -...¡¯ He fell silent as he saw her smiling face turned into a grimace.


    She opened her mouth in disbelief. ¡®Careful - optimism?¡¯ She repeated. Semiramis raised herself to her full length again, head nearing the ceiling of the tent.


    She placed her long foot on his neck, forcing his face into old dusty carpet.


    The merchant winced. ¡®He will, yes, he will. The King is yours, great Semiramis. He will allow you into his house. Great lady, enter Uruk and see its men bow to you.¡¯


    She removed her foot. Her face calmed slightly, but her beautiful eyes still showed fire.


    Sapphire gave his best smile. ¡®I have also brought a gift to you, perfect one.¡¯ He was happy to see a sense of curiosity appear over Semiramis face, and a small smile dimpled her cheeks again.


    ¡®What then?¡¯


    Sapphire pushed himself up to his knees, and her knees were before his head.


    ¡®Sadly I was forced to abandon my original gift of fine fabrics and chests of expensive trade goods. I was also to forced abandon most of my men and camels. Uruk came hunting. But here, we took this from them. We, I, killed for you...¡¯


    He showed the torn banner of Eneduanna, unfurling it and placing it before her feet. The eight pointed star, embroidered gold on black weavery. A rough piece of work, but she seemed joyed by it.


    Semiramis clapped her hands in delight. She clawed the banner up from the carpets and spun around as she held it before her eyes. Semiramis¡¯ white teeth flashed between her red lips. ¡®This is very good.¡¯ She said with sparkling voice and Sapphire¡¯s eyes moistened. After a final inspection she put away the banner.


    ¡®Your men, they wish to serve?¡¯


    Sapphire suddenly realized his traveling fellows were present as well. Four men on hands and knees behind him, noses touching the ground.


    ¡®Yes. They are good men, loyal men. They have served me well and they are eager for your blessing, perfect one. Already they killed for you - killed your sister¡¯s men without hesitation.¡¯


    Semiramis nodded. ¡®Very well. But first celebration, you came across the sands for me, I must show hospitality, even in these - modest - conditions.¡¯


    She clapped her hands again, harder now. ¡®Karkid!¡¯ Her fine voice gained a sharp, impure edge, lined with irritation and contempt. From behind a curtain a woman shuffled forward. Many dark brown curls flowed down her head like helixes. Her nose was aquiline; thin and with a slight crook. She seemed dwarfed by Semiramis, like a little daughter. The curly-haired servant wore simple red cloth around her hips, and her chest showed small breasts with brown nipples. Her skin was tanned, visibly contrasting with that of Semiramis. Sapphire noticed bruises on her arms and legs. The woman seemed tired, unhappy, but he saw she forced a smile onto her face to greet the visitors of her mistress. She wore a heavy bronze collar, from which a golden pendant hung inscribed with symbols. Semiramis lifted the pendant, showing it to Sapphire.


    -


    ¡®Slave of the Exalted Priestess is her name now. But you will call her Karkid.¡¯


    Semiramis long arm grabbed hold of Karkid¡¯s curling hair and yanked the woman closer, whose kohl lined eyes became teary - though her mouth did not cry out. Silent like a doll.


    ¡®You look horrid, Kar-kid.¡¯ Tall Semiramis spat out the name with disdain.


    Karkid apologised while her head was jerked backwards: ¡®I am sorry mistress. I was busy with my duties.¡¯


    Semiramis let go, gesturing to Dan Sarpa. ¡®These men have served me well. We have guests from across the sands. From Uruk! Perhaps you will see that city one day. Give them wine and entertain them. Come now, fast, do not make them wait.¡¯


    Karkid scurried away, returning with a heavy earthen amphora from which she poured red liquid in simple earthen cups. With steady hand she offered one to each of the men, momentarily crossing eyes with Sapphire as she handed a cup to him. Within it he read fear.


    Meanwhile Semiramis sat down on the carpets and reclined her long naked body against the pillows. ¡®What news you bring from Uruk?¡¯


    ¡®Eneduanna -¡¯ Sapphire started, but Semiramis held out an elongated long-nailed finger while her light face darkened. ¡®Do not speak that cursed name of hers.¡¯


    ¡®Of Course.¡¯ He replied nervously. ¡®Your sister, if I may call her that, has conquered the neighbouring Kingdom of Larsa. She offered them mercy or cruelty, and they chose to keep the gates closed before her throne. She has laid waste to it. Massacred its people, enslaved the few survivors. The temple of Larsa she has dedicated to Inanna and placed in it an idol bearing her own image. The northern cities of Isin and the southern cities of Ur and Eridu are aligning themselves against Uruk. War is expected to come.¡¯ Sapphire emptied the cup of wine.


    Semiramis was listening attentively. Her long curling eyelashes over her black eyes she directed at the merchant. ¡®These dry wastes offer little beyond a few sparse tribes, no culture worth discussing. You are here, and you will stay. You must tell me more about Uruk the coming days, anything you can think off; I want to know everything.¡¯


    The slave, Karkid, sensed his cup was empty and walked over. ¡®More wine, lord?¡¯


    The merchant nodded, keeping his eyes on Semiramis, whose hands had exchanged the flute for a long slender pipe of some sorts. She lit it and handed it over to Karkid, who offered it to him. He pulled in bittersweet smoke and ecstatic feeling overcame him. His body slumped on the carpet. Relaxed, happy, secure. Bless my luck, I have found heaven on earth where I serve my Goddess. And then his thoughts lost their coherence and he drifted away on cool clouds.


    The flute renewed playing. He vaguely registered the others also partaking from the pipe, hearing dimly their almost sensual sighs and groans. They were led on by the tones of the piper until eventually Dan Sarpa found himself in the tent again, soft pillows under his elbows.


    Karkid noticed him wake and quickly whispered to her tall mistress, who immediately turned with an eager grin.


    Behind her a small furnace was raging, white hot coals, the heat reaching the merchant and making him sweat under his robes. The bright fiery light of the furnace glowed over Semiramis¡¯ pale naked body. ¡®Bring your men to me, Dan Sarpa. I will accept them as my servants.¡¯


    He had difficulty finding the strength, but he forced himself up despite his bodily weakness. The merchant slouched towards his men, criss-crossed around the chamber between pillows and carpets, their eyes still closed in bliss. He picked one, struggled to drag him up, and brought him before the Mistress. Under the gentle push of Sapphire¡¯s hands the man went to his knees.


    Semiramis took out a copper pole, the metal end shaped into her name. The curling symbols were glowing white-red, and the air around the brand simmered from the heat.


    Sapphire knew what to do, taking off the sweat-scented shirt of the caravaneer, who still stared up at Semiramis in half-delight.


    The tall woman smiled back as she pushed the searing hot metal on his skin, pressing it firmly on the caravaneer¡¯s stomach. The man looked confused for a moment, then opened his mouth to produce a groan that developed into a scream of sudden pain. He recoiled back, but Semiramis expertly kept the brand on her servant. She hummed contently as she heard the hissing sound of burning flesh, and pulled back, returning the brand to the furnace.


    The man gasped unsteadily, spit dripping from his mouth. Tall Semiramis put her long fingers on his roughed chin and raised his head. ¡®Say my name.¡¯


    ¡®Semiramis...¡¯


    ¡®And are you mine?¡¯


    ¡®Y...yes. YES.¡¯ He threw himself at her feet. Semiramis averted herself from him, weight shifting to one leg and hand resting on her naked hip. One of her fingers tapped impatiently against her leg. ¡®Next.¡¯


    The others had awoken, their companion¡¯s sudden screaming pulling them from their delighted cloudy existences. They looked at each other, attempting to read each other¡¯s minds, then the second rushed forward, and with trembling body he offered himself up to the priestess. She branded him , and the one after him   , and the one after   .


    She stepped back to look at her work. ¡®Karkid, you know what I need. Go fetch it.¡¯


    The slave went away in silence, her bare feet not audible on the soft carpets. Semiramis smiled at the branded men. ¡®You will receive another gift from me, a most gracious blessing. To serve my will forever, will you do that for me?¡¯


    The men agreed. Sapphire shifted. Semiramis noticed his nervosity. ¡®Do not worry, Sarpa. You are the exception. Watch and see.¡¯


    The caravaneers now started to feel the true burn of their marks. With difficulty they kept their expressions under control, refusing to show their pain.


    Karkid returned, a small polished wooden box in her hands which she handed over to her tall mistress. The slave woman pushed back her curls, something Sapphire identified as excitement. An involuntary eager haste in her movements, perhaps not even recognized by herself. But he knew eyes did not lie, and hers glinted with feverish attention. What was about to happen?


    He mulled throwing himself to where the others awaited but kept in place. Jealousy tightened his throat with strangling grip as he watched the ceremony unfoil.


    Semiramis opened the box, taking out of it a melange of grey and orange powder and piling it up on her palm. Her thumb and pink were outstretched. She leaned down to the awaiting men, legs bent and one hand resting on her knee, and blew the powder on their faces. The caravaneers inhaled and groaned slightly, their bodies immediately becoming rigid. Then their heads dropped. Fine particles hung through the air, and the nearby onlooking merchant found his thoughts become dulled for a moment.


    ¡®You, Dan Sarpa, you I allow to keep your own mind. These here before me, they no longer think. Servants, as they wished and agreed. Slaves endure their miseries, but these are completely content to serve. They have found more tranquility and peace than most souls could even hope to find.¡¯


    Dan Sarpa realized how close he had come to be bound completely and bowed his head, unsure how to feel. ¡®Thank you, Revered one.¡¯


    ¡®Karkid. Take these away. You know what to do.¡¯


    ¡®As you wish, mistress.¡¯


    The room cleared, the Exalted priestess and the Sapphire merchant alone between the tent-fabrics.


    Semiramis looked at the merchant attentively. ¡®Do not look so sullen, Dan Sarpa, rejoice. You have found your way back to me. You are safe, here, in my embrace.¡¯


    She walked over until she stood right before him, her breasts hovering above his turban and his face before her navel. She took him and held him against her body. ¡®I''m pleased with what you did, you must do more.¡¯ Sapphire closed his eyes as the scent of her skin became his world. Her voice became very soft and fragile. ¡®Will you impress me again Dan Sarpa?¡¯

 Chapter Twenty Three - The Lamb

    <h1>Chapter Twenty Three- The Lamb</h1>


    In Eneduanna¡¯s garden, protected by the sacred azure walls of the inner city, flanked by rows of thorny hedges and falling rose petals, stood an old willow tree. Under its melancholic branches gathered the priestesses of Inanna.


    It was evening black, and a pair of torches cast threatening orange light on the bark of the willow. The tree creaked and groaned in protest, its long slender branches swaying in the wind. A soft rain came down over the city, but under the canopy of the willow the priestesses were dry. The tree¡¯s hanging stalks closed them off.


    Within the willow-chamber Priestess Amalda ordered the other women to silence. She was Matron of the order, nearing fifty, her youthful allure exchanged with a stricter, more reserved type of beauty. Raven black hair, eyes like a wildcat; orange and calculating, darting over her sisters. She had a low hoarse voice accustomed to command. Her upper lip, showing the first hairs of old age, curled up as she started speaking.


    ¡®City in turmoil, waters rising, enemy at the gates.¡¯


    Her smoky voice grated over her own throat as she spat the words to her fellow priestesses.


    ¡®She takes too long. I have observed the rites. Passage needs to be paid.¡¯


    She saw that the others listened, these younger women. They too had hard eyes; eyes that stripped men of their dignities, knowledgeable eyes filled with arrogance and cold mercilessness. Predatory like Amalda, though the raven haired matron wielded a certain imposing presence even over them. ¡®Passage needs to be paid.¡¯ She repeated. ¡®Do you understand what that means?¡¯


    ¡®Dumuzid.¡¯ A priestess replied. ¡®The one the Revered one released.¡¯


    The others gave a hum of understanding and the matron nodded.


    ¡®Yes, Eneduanna seems to have developed a preference for the Hurrian. For her own good we will take him away. Exchange him for her. Find the Dumuzid, bring him here. We will drown the man in the name of the Revered one.¡¯


    Sjerub stared into his cup, the smooth surface of the liquid reflecting back troubled grey eyes.


    The man in the drink stared back. The gaze, he knew, tried to warn him. All his worries and tiredness  were down there at the bottom. Uneasily he turned his head away.


    The Hurrian was sitting in an innhouse of dubious quality, men sitting elbow to elbow besides him on a long filled table. His left ear heard gulping, chewing, and singing. His right ear heard snorting, laughter, and haggling.


    With a sigh Sjerub rose from the long table, emptying his cup and slouching to a calmer seat at the shadowy back of the drinking hall. He chose a crooked chair next to a small corner table, perched against paned glass that overlooked a passing canal. Rain gently tapped on the window and Sjerub watched the passing boats. Strange city, simultaneously repellent and alluring.


    A fat tavern girl came over, dexterously fencing of a multitude of eager drunkard¡¯s hands to reach the slumped-over Hurrian in the back. ¡®Girl on your mind?¡¯ She asked, bumping her prominent hips against the small table.


    When he didn¡¯t reply she placed her fleshy hand on his shoulder. ¡®Man of few words I see. Where you¡¯re from stranger? You dress like a noble, but your eyes are too bright for a native and your body too tall.¡¯ Sjerub glared at his clothes; scarlet black and gold, given after his release from his dark and cramped prison. Prince of Uruk. Prince of Nothing...


    ¡®I come from the North.¡¯ He stated, tapping his now empty cup. ¡®I¡¯ll have another.¡¯


    The fat waitress yelled an insult back at the busy table when one of the drunkards offered her a price, then smiled at Sjerub as she twirled her dark curling hair.


    ¡®Ofcourse, northman. You one of those Hurrians?¡¯


    Her dark eyes shined. Sjerub looked up to inspect the inn-girl. Small chin, chubby reddened cheeks, small nose and a broad smile.


    ¡®Hurrian, yes.¡¯ He said cautiously. ¡®Sworn to the Revered one.¡¯


    She leaned over. ¡®I like a foreign man.¡¯ The big girl whispered. ¡®Beds are upstairs, cheap, and I think there¡¯s just one available, though you have to share with me.¡¯ She winked.


    ¡®I¡¯ll think about it.¡¯ He replied awkwardly. ¡®To be truthful I dont know where I¡¯ll go. Leave or stay¡­¡¯


    She gestured her thick arms at the windows. ¡®In this rain?¡¯ she chuckled. ¡®Believe me sweetie, youre not going anywhere.¡¯


    She turned away so he had a good look at her sizable trunk, and the waitress returned to the rowdy drinkroom.


    Sjerub leaned back, hand moving to the sword at his side. Still in its sheath, it was the only thing that reassured him. Wherever he went, his blade would be there; even in the grave.


    Leave, his heart said, remembering the long time he had spent blind in the prison confines. Stay, his heart said, remembering when in the dark, a tall body had clambered into his cell.


    It had been days since he had word of his mistress. The gates of the inner-city were closed. He only received the glint of arrowheads and the quick priestess command to leave. The Revered one was in ritual, in sleep. He had become a retainer  bound to a comatose ruler.


    Outside Uruk the world still awaited, roads leading to all directions of the wind. There could lie his destiny, travel to even stranger lands, or back north to the highlands and snow-capped mountains where his kin lived. He had gold, he had his blade. If his mistress would not see him, not use him, leave him to rot in jails to starve and thirst, what use did loyalty still have?


    This city he mistrusted, disliked, could not and would not give him rest. But then why did the prospect of abandoning Uruk give him such difficulty? Every thought of him riding off through the gates and over the roads inevitably lead back to her. Eneduanna. Sjerub shook his head. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Can you not find someone else to love? The Hurrian silently asked his heart. Eneduanna. Her tall body was misfitting to his own. Her actions were abusing, with little affection. Yet something had stirred him. He gritted his teeth. Leave now or stay forever, It resounded in his mind, and he made his decision. Her tall silhouette appeared in his mind. Then forever it is.


    Sjerub looked up. The fat waitress had gone, replaced by a thinner one. The noise of the guests continued, steadily worsening their inebriated states.


    From another corner in the shadowy backroom an old figure shifted.


    Sjerub had not even noticed him until the grey mass of long greasy hair of vale worn garments stirred. A black boot raised and planted itself firmly on the wooden floorboards. The shoulders pushed up and the face that had apparently lied backwards in slumber turned to Sjerub. Two cloudy eyes watched him, the original colour hidden by a thin white veneer of blindness.


    The old man opened his mouth, a gurgling noise slowly gaining strength until it was able to push out a word.


    ¡®Hurrian.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve been eavesdropping old man?¡¯ Sjerub placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.


    ¡®Eavesdropping? I just got here.¡¯ The old man took out a small pipe from his pocket, lighting it with a nearby candle. He inhaled into his old lungs and released a great cloud  of smoke, followed by a few ragged coughs for good measure. The old man shuffled closer.


    ¡®The name is Angiras.¡¯ His voice suddenly surprisingly strong, reverberating through the smoke while other sounds muffled. ¡®Gift a gold coin and I¡¯ll give you advice.¡¯


    ¡®Steep price for the advice of an old beggar. Get back to your seat.¡¯


    Angiras halted halfway towards the Hurrian. ¡®Are you sure? You might want to know what I am about to say.¡¯ The smoke began fading.


    Sjerub flicked a copper at the floor. ¡®Get yourself a drink and leave me be, old man.¡¯


    Angiras slowly bent his back to pick up the copper piece at his feet. ¡®I told you, the name is Angiras. A copper gets you this: Don¡¯t drink from the cup.¡¯


    Sjerub sneered. ¡®That''s your wisdom?¡¯ He laughed thinly. ¡®Away with you Angiras.¡¯


    The old man made a rejecting gesture with his hand, coughed again, and disappeared into the mass of revelling drunks.


    Sjerub eyed the new waitress questioningly as she strode to his table. ¡®Where did the other go?¡¯


    The waitress smiled disarmingly. ¡®She will be back soon. Change of clothes. Got all excited and the like.¡¯


    She placed a filled cup before him. ¡®On the house.¡¯ And she left to serve others, where ¡®The sons of Uruk¡¯ began rolling from dozens of lispy tongues.


    Sjerub stared at the drink, hands firmly planted on the wooden surface of the table. I wouldn''t drink that - young man, the old voice grated between his ears.


    Sjerub sniffed uneasily, took up his sword and rose. Perhaps it was better to go, find a calmer place to rest, and see what he could do to see Eneduanna tomorrow.


    ¡®Fine Hurrian, where are you going?¡¯ It sounded from above. He looked up to see the the fat waitress returned. She stood atop of the stairs leading to the upper floor, and she now wore scarlet. He froze.


    With a tiny rosy smile on her double chinned face the priestess raised a blowpipe and sent out a small dart towards him. The projectile was accidentally caught in the neck by another guest whose unsteady gait had stumbled past. The victim touched his neck, felt his knees soften and fell to the ground like a statue.


    The fat woman grimaced. ¡®Sisters!¡¯ she warned.


    The door was flung open and a pack of scarlet women rushed inside the drinking hall. Their shining black hair was tied back in tails and their hands held spears and long daggers.


    ¡®On your knees, Dumuzid!¡¯ The fat one yelled from atop the stairs, jamming another dart in her blowpipe.


    The Hurrian drew his sword and the drunken crowd in between roared with excitement as they retreated to the edges of the hall.


    Damned Uruk. Harlot-city. A first priestess managed to push through the drunkards. Raised in her hand was a long kris-knife, surface slick with an oily sheen.


    ¡®Halt your fugitive efforts. Bow down male, the needs of the sisterhood you will oblige.¡¯


    ¡®I will kill each and every one of you. I am sworn to Eneduanna, not to you.¡¯


    With an angry screech the priestess lunged forward.


    A single swing and her decorated head was decapitated. Fountaining red, the headless torso leaned against him like an eager lover.


    More priestesses came forward, sharp spears pointed at him.


    A prick in his leg, a tiny dart embedded in his skin. With a grunt the Hurrian pulled it out.


    He showed his teeth in defiance, but his legs became weak and he stumbled around. The priestesses began to melt in scarlet and black swirls.


    ¡®Do not hurt the Dumuzid. I need him alive.¡¯ He heard the fat priestess say.


    ¡®I only serv, Eneduan.¡¯ He slurred back, weakly swinging his blade towards a scarlet blur.


    The Hurrian fell to the ground, bloodied sword clattering over the floorboards.


    Walls of thorns, intricate webs of barbed vines, surrounding a hidden field of soggy grass, with dark rainy sky overhead. Sjerub blinked, vision somewhat blurry. He found his hands bound on his back, rain dripping on his naked body. A pair of female hands pressed down on his shoulders, their skin was soft but their nails dug into his skin.


    Two rows of hooded priestesses flanked a small stretch of grass towards a dark kettle leading to a dark kettle. There the Matron awaited, broad shouldered and hair cropped short, inspecting him with her orange eyes. With smoky voice she ordered the Hurrian to be brought forward. .


    ¡®Dumuzid.¡¯ Amalda spoke solemnly. ¡®Have you any affection for the Revered one?¡¯


    Sjerub said nothing. An open palmed hand struck his face. ¡®Speak, male.¡¯


    He grimaced. ¡®She put you up to this? I have seen enough of this city and I am tired of her games.¡¯


    ¡®Eneduanna sleeps, Dumuzid. She knows nothing of this.¡¯


    His head was pushed down to the kettle, seeing it filled with rainwater.


    ¡®Say now, have you any affection for the Revered one?¡¯


    Sjerub forced his gaze up from the kettle towards the Matron. ¡®A hag like you would never understand.¡¯ He scraped his throat and spat a thick wad of slime at her.


    Her tongue flicked out to taste before wiping it from her face. ¡®Whatever she saw in you, it will be your downfall. In the last moments before she went to the below, she ordered you to be made Prince of Uruk.¡¯ She laughed in disbelief. ¡®Do you feel a prince? Perhaps you need a crown¡­ thorns all around!¡¯


    Her happy smile evaporated, leaving only an unfriendly hard stare. ¡®Send him down to the below.¡¯ She ordered. ¡®-Drown him. An offering of the lover!¡¯


    A multitude of hands pushed him down to the kettle¡¯s water. Sjerub endured it in disbelief, then gradually gave himself over to rage. His naked muscular body rippled with strength, resisting every inch down. With a roar he forced himself up to his feet. He rammed his forehead in the face of the first priestess before him, breaking her nose with a spurt of blood. Another he kicked in the stomach, forcing her backwards to the ground. Hands still bound behind his back he ran.


    ¡®Eneduanna!¡¯ He screamed in desperation. ¡®Eneduanna! Eneduanna!¡¯


    The priestesses laughed as the naked man, hands still tied behind his back, fled into the ferns and rosy hedges of the garden.

 Chapter Twenty Four - Warparty

    <h1>Chapter Twenty Four - Warparty</h1>


    Sapphire awoke, clambering out a small tent and onto soil still cold from desert night. From the east, dawn arose over the dark peaks of the surrounding rocksides. A new dawn. He greeted the sun as it warmed his bones.


    A few serviles were busy cooking, slowly stirring large kettles hanging over smoky fire. A group of armed men left the encampments on a patrol. There was a soft blowing of the wind - always present in the great desert - and for the rest silence. None spoke, no man conversed with the one besides him.


    The merchant awaited, glancing at the large tent of Semiramis; The various colours and fabrics of accumulated travel-supplies and camel-blankets revealed themselves in the morning light. Greens, reds and yellows, striped and plain, all held together with stitches and rope. It sagged, bulged, stood uneven, a large expansive conglomerate of amassed cloth.


    Sapphire did not dare approach. If she had need of him she would send for him. His fellow caravaneers he had not seen since last night, the details of which were difficult to remember. He had vague memories that smelled of burning flesh and brought back a paradisiacal surge through his veins.


    The merchant wandered to the well to drink and refresh himself. The locals did not seem to wash their bodies, but Sapphire prefered to keep himself clean given the chance.


    The grim-faced serviles he passed no longer followed him with long stares. Instead they ignored him. An improvement, Sapphire decided, uncomfortable in the presence of these ragged silent men.


    He washed, dressed, rewound the dark blue turban around his thinning red hair and cleaned the silver rings on his fingers. He polished the Sapphire until he could see his own reflection in the sparkling gem and secured it on his forehead.


    WIth the passing of morning the camp became busy with men, all focussed intensely on their own tasks. In military fashion they came and went, collecting and carrying supplies, sending out forays and sentries, mute and untiring like a host of ants.


    Noon arrived before Semiramis finally emerged from her grand pavilion. Her auburn head caught the rays of the sun, lighting up the deep dark red in the silken strands of her long hair. She raised her dark eyes to the blue sky, the deep heavenly ocean devoid of impurities. An all-encompassing blue, sighing heat down on the parched land below.


    Semiramis wore a long white dress. Her wrists held bands of gold. She inspected her serviles, all of whom had their heads turned towards her while their hands continued working. The eyes of the tall woman moved through her camp until she noticed the Sapphire merchant. She gestured for him to come before re-entering her tent again. Sapphire sprung forth with eagerness, running as fast as his legs would carry him.


    Inside Semiramis awaited him on a high chair of carved wood, hands folded over her lap.


    ¡®Dan Sarpa, tell me your worth.¡¯ She calmly asked.


    Sapphire¡¯s brows raised in confusion. ¡®I serve¡­ you.¡¯


    ¡®Your profession?¡¯


    ¡®I''m a merchant. A traveler of the world.¡¯


    ¡®And what use does a merchant have for me, do you invision markets in these barren hills? We are surviving, just, and nothing more. Is there anything else you can do?¡¯ She asked kindly, but her eyes were hard.


    ¡®I''m a poisoner.¡¯ Sapphire tried. ¡®I carry many and know of more.¡¯


    She gave a slight nod. ¡®Poisoner, very well. Today we depart, we go to the¡­¡¯ Semiramis frowned. ¡®Karkid!¡¯ She screamed. The slave woman with long curling hair soon arrived. ¡®Inform the men today is a warday. I want them armed. Pack everything.¡¯


    ¡®Of Course mistress.¡¯ Karkid replied, casting a quick glance at Sapphire. Her eyes quickly darted from his face to his gemmed turban, and back. Her eyes tried to warn, and in them he also read, perhaps, a glimmer of hope. She left quickly.


    ¡®That little whore gets on my nerves.¡¯ Semiramis complained, massaging her temples. ¡®Now, let''s get back to the task at hand. This world of sand and rock offers little, but those that look carefully can find the means of escape. There are men living in these wastes. Few in number - Hard to tame, but resilient. During my exile I have busied myself with subjugating the natives of the desert. Loose groups of families, small clans hidden in the dunes and the nomads that wander through my domains. Hard work for few fruits, but you can see that over the years my following has grown. With one mistake however, I could lose it all. This dry soil is unforgiving, and I cannot raise the dead. - Not yet at least. -¡¯ She added with a white smile.


    ¡®I have wandered and collected. Fresh prey has led me here, in this sordid rocky corner of the desert. Not far from here lives a tribe that has shown exceptional resistance. My will is for them to bow but they refuse. And unlike the others, either choosing to serve, produce tribute or wholeheartedly flee, they remain where they are. My fanatics have tried to destroy them but they have, so far, been unable to complete their task. I figure you are the diplomatic man. I will have you try and negotiate for me, use that mercantile guile of yours. We go west, deeper into the mountains. We will cross the massif through the high passages, emerging on the other side of the range. Pack whatever your brought and prepare your camels.¡¯


    ***


    From the surrounding hills dark-haired men streamed into the valley, their skin the colour of stone, caked in dirt and accumulated filth. Their gnarled rigid hands held spears, at their hips long knives, and over their shoulders bows and arrows. Serviles, far greater in number than Sapphire previously had thought, amassed around Semiramis¡¯ grand pavilion. The tall woman emerged from her tent when the sun receded away and the valley was submerged in shadow. Her slave-woman followed behind, dwarfed by her mistress.


    Semiramis spoke no encouraging words to her servants, she barely gave her fanatical warriors even a worthy glance. She wore the same white dress, and a flute was in her hands. She brought the flute to her lips and started playing; a simple yet pure tune. The tones sounded far into the rocks and jagged peaks, luring even the deepest servile from his post.


    As Semiramis walked the mass followed. Sapphire, perched atop his camel, followed suit. He was anxious for her dark gaze but received no attention.


    Under the guide of the flute the troop moved forward. Sapphire saw carts and wagons pulled after the warparty. Fabrics and ropes fell, and the pavillion of the tall lady collapsed. Loaded on the man-pulled wagons were the entire possessions of Semiramis. Her sparse luxuries, carefully guarded by tattered men, and further along, more primitive matters; Meat. salted carcasses and stacks of ribs. With sudden disgust Sapphire realized it was human flesh that was stacked upon the carts, quickly covered under tarps.


    They traveled through a land of sculpted rock, over rocky uneven paths that wound through the shadows of weathered mountains. Semiramis walked the stony path dexterously, bare feet choosing suitable ground in swift, intricate, dance-like movements. Her lips and fingers still held the flute. The simple, pure tones that the tall woman played echoed against the bland rocksides. Besides her feet the path ended in depths, showing far below a thin dry valley. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Behind their red-haired mistress stumbled long lines of silent men dressed in rags and grime. Their usually expressionless faces now showed a rare instance of emotion; facial muscles stretched back in tension, lids of their eyes pulled back. The expression of imminent murder.


    On the hard windscaped hills smaller packs roamed. Further away, on high crests, an occasional lone watcher.


    ***


    Sapphire had taken to riding ahead of the tall lady and her main host, sometimes alone, at other moments a silent servile scout at his side; the pathfinders coming and going, clambering up and down seemingly impossible rocksides.


    Firmly in the saddle, the merchant calmly took up the visages of his new surroundings. Accustomed to far travels, the encounter with this new land did not excite him. It had a certain ruggedness that could be called beautiful, but mostly it was empty like the desert from which the mounts had sprung. The path led them higher and higher, into arid mountain passes inhabited by inhospitable cold winds.


    To continue the travels into colder heights Sapphire had wrapped himself deeply in multiple robes. His face was likewise covered in cloth, only a pair of attentive silver eyes visible.


    The days passed uneventful, valleys and hills coming and going, a blocking boulder or crumbled road here and there, a solitary mountain eagle high in the sky - circling for sparse prey. The type of traveling that made the mind wander and allowed mind to soar amongst the cold frosty peaks.


    Sapphire halted when he sighted an anomaly in the featureless landscape. Faint snow fluttered around him. His camel stood on a downward descending path. Before them was a headless torso impaled on a splintering stake, well preserved in the cold air.


    Undoubtedly servile work, the marks of efficient cruelty visible on the tortured body. As he squeezed his eyes he saw bite-marks on the limbs.


    Half hidden around the death-marked passage, serviles crouched behind nearby stones like dark-haired mountain-beasts, calculating predatory eyes following the approaching camel-rider.


    Sapphire kicked his heels in Medif¡¯s flanks and the camel reluctantly continued. It gave a wary growl as they passed the mutilated, impaled body. The serviles allowed them to pass and the path lowered from elevated lands into warmer regions. The cold mountain winds remained in the passages above, whilst the warmth of the sun returned to the traveler.


    He passed a second body. It was naked and impaled. Head, hands and member were missing, the half-eaten remains marking the edge of Semiramis¡¯ territory. The path widened and quickly descended. Stony hill-land, where the hazy heat simmered over the surface. Hardy bush grew amongst the rocks and vipers slithered between the stones.


    He followed servile trackers into a valley where a thin stream of melt water trickled through the stones. He saw the remains of hutts, now burnt out. Blackened wood-beams and collapsed walls, undoubtedly the work of his mistress.


    Sapphire dismounted and decided to wait for Semiramis.


    It took a while before the flute came trailing down the higher passes and Sapphire was able to see the warhost descend into the valley.


    He was on his knees by the time Semiramis neared him. She removed the flute from her lips.


    ¡®Sarpa.¡¯ She said, stopping to address him. The long columns behind her ground to a halt. ¡®-We have not much further to go. This already is tribal land, though the locals seemed no longer willing to walk their own soil. Come with me Dan Sarpa and I¡¯ll bring you to their hold. I expect you have worked on a proposal for their submission?¡¯


    Sapphire gave a nervous smile. Patience was not one of his mistress traits. ¡®I need to see what we are dealing with first.¡¯


    ¡®Then see.¡¯ The flute continued and tall Semiramis passed him in long strides.


    She calmly led him to a ledge where the rock suddenly disappeared into a deep, dark chasm.


    The earth had been split and the rocks opened, pulled apart by greater forces. The other side of the canyon was inaccessible; a good fifty paces of nothing separating the two sides. Looking left and right, Sapphire could see the canyon snake its way through the surrounding rocksides, no clear beginning or end in sight, the chasm only disappearing from sight as it curved around higher cliffsides.


    He peered over the edge, seeing the depths shrouded in darkness.


    ¡®In here the defiant live.¡¯ Semiramis stated, pointing down into the black pit at their feet.


    As Sapphire continued to look into the chasm he discerned caves hewn in the rockside walls deep below. Down in the shadows men emerged from their holes and raised their weapons.


    ¡®Begone, she-demon!¡¯ An old voice called out from below, echoing through the depths.


    Semiramis¡¯ men soon swarmed at the edges of the canyon, bows aimed down. They were silent and held their arrows on the strings. Other servile groups went to work to set up the encampment with grim efficiency. They emptied carts and wagons and utilized tools to hammer fastening lines in the hard soil. Within a short span of time the first parts of the mistress¡¯ pavillion already arose. Eager to get out of the hot sun, Semiramis entered her nomadic home.


    Sapphire made strides to follow her but a hand clasped over his shoulder. Fear struck him. He was forced to admit he was frightened by Semiramis¡¯ men, servants eternal or not, and he had already wondered if they would somehow turn on him. The feelings that had him curl his toes in dread quickly dissipated when he turned to see Karkid. The slave-woman was dressed in simple trousers and tunic, though the band with the golden pendant still hung from her neck.


    ¡®Wait, merchant-man. Let me speak with you for a moment.¡¯


    Sapphire glanced impatiently at the pavilion entrance, then faced the Karkid.


    There was beauty in her face, if one was able to look through the lines of worries and exhaustion. ¡®Fine¡­ but make it quick.¡¯ He growled.


    Karkid stepped closer to speak with him in hushed tones. ¡®I was the leader of these people once. And then she arrived; Semiramis, with just a tiny band of wretched followers. She came to my tribe and I offered her food and water. She left and returned in the night with blades. That night our tribe died. The men she drove mad, the women she had sacrificed to heighten the attention she herself would receive. And me she chose to keep, the sole surviving woman, no longer recognized by the men she had seen grow up. I was put in chains. These things Semiramis creates, ¡­ they are no longer human. The men that I see bear the faces of my brothers, my friends, the sons of the tribe, but their inner-light has been dimmed, the flames of their hearts nearly extinguished. They are empty husks to be used to serve her will. They only have two emotion: anger, furious, murderous black anger that brings their hands to do what was done to their own. They kill men, women, children. They return in the night covered in blood. When not evoked for grim murder they are meek workers, never complaining; and I am to serve them. This land has sickened, it is a place of despair. Our race has been brought low here. You must go, traveler from the east. I beg of you, leave while you still can.¡¯


    Sapphire allowed time to have her words sink in, mulling them over as he carefully prepared his answer. ¡®Because the apparent confidence you place in me, and the worry you seem to have for my well being, I will not speak of this to the great mistress.¡¯ His tongue grew bitter. ¡®But you have no knowledge of what I had to do to get here and be in her presence, and I won''t hold this against you. Woman of the sand, the world is larger than the desert you grew up in. Be grateful you are so close to the Divine. Now get out of my sight, I must speak with the holy one.¡¯


    Karkid¡¯s fiery eyes had dulled to a teary glaze. ¡®At least I tried.¡¯ She sighed softly, and allowed him passage into pavillion.


    Inside he found Semiramis drinking wine with a lustless expression, her long body slouched in her seat, one long pale leg stretched out carelessly. ¡®Karkid spoke with you, didn''t she? That girl ought to get her tongue removed.¡¯


    ¡®Its alright, magnificent lady - may the earth be blessed that such a beautiful creation as you walks her soil - She was no bother. Instead, tell me of those that inhabit the canyon.¡¯


    Semiramis gestured irritatedly with her silver goblet, red wine spilling over its edges.


    ¡®My mood suffers under them, Dan Sarpa. I sense that I have to smoke them and their families out of their little pit. Heaven knows how many of mine lay broken at the bottom. These people can''t be threatened into subservience and they apparently can''t be bought. I¡¯ve already tried with stolen caravaneer coin, entire chests I have had delivered to their narrow approaches. They only refuse. If I can¡¯t subvert even these cave-dwellers, what hope do I have of returning to my birthplace?¡¯


    She drank deeply. ¡®Kingdoms and Empires await and I am rejected here already, stranded in nowhere, while my bitch-of-a-sister sits contently in Uruk, commanding uncounted masses, quenching her thirst in rivers of devotion and faithful affection.¡¯ Semiramis pale face turned red with anger. ¡®And I sit in rocks and sand! - In a damned tent!¡¯


    Semiramis emptied and refilled her goblet. Calm returned to her voice. ¡®How so very pleased I would be if you could deliver this tribe into my hands. See what you can do, Sarpa.¡¯

 Chapter Twenty Five - The Hunt

    <h1>Chapter Twenty five - The Hunt </h1>


    Seeing the Hurrian disappear into the thorn-hedges Matron Amalda straightened her spine and raised her chin. ¡®Who was it that let the Dumuzid escape?¡¯


    Her cat-like eyes flickered to the dazed priestess clambering on the grass, blood seeping from her broken nose.


    ¡®Not only did you let him overpower you, but also you allowed him to taint your beauty. Better pray to Inanna that nose heals properly or you will be dismissed from my service. Now out of my sight, I¡¯ll deal with you later.¡¯


    She scraped her throat with disdain as the bleeding priestess crawled away. The remaining sisters watched Amalda in silence, fine hands clutching their weapons.


    It was a cool evening, a thin mist of rain descending upon the gardens, faint grey light gradually sinking away behind the walls.


    ¡®Seal off the inner city.¡¯ Amalda finally said. ¡®Gates, walls, even the sewer pipes I want guarded. Does the Revered one still sleeps?¡¯


    ¡®She does.¡¯ A sister replied. ¡®Breathing is weak.¡¯


    Amalda nodded. ¡®The Dumuzid must die. Bring me my bow, light the torches and sound the horn. A hunt is upon us sisters!¡¯


    Her acolytes bowed their heads and scattered. Eyes fixed on the melancholic roses where the Hurrian had fled, a faint smile formed over the matron¡¯s wide mouth.


    ***


    Sjerub struggled in the moist dirt, trying his best to grind down his tight bounds against a sharp stone. He had ran deep into the garden-forest, drenched in sweat despite the wet atmosphere, and his naked body covered in a multitude of shallow thorn-scratches. With a grimace he cursed the city of Uruk and all who dwelled in her. Prince of Uruk. Prince of Nothing.


    Sjerub would have laughed about the ridiculousness of his situation if his life wouldn''t be in such mortal danger. He never expected to face his end like this; in a sacred garden, hunted down by hooded women - while his reluctant lover and tall mistress was nearby, oblivious to his struggle, fast asleep. He had sworn to serve, so he would - to his last breath, but he felt bitter about it all. There was honor in dying for a noble master. To die today would only bring disgrace. Hunted like game by vile women, a pointless service, a shameful end. His ancestors would curse and spit on his name for accepting such a fate.


    Sjerub looked up through the canopy above him, seeing the sky darkening. Night would soon fall. A horn blew from where he had fled. He could see torches through the trees. He finally cut the ropes on his wrists. Sjerub rose from the damp earth and ran again.


    Like a frightened deer he moved, ears raised and stuck to the sides of his head, nostrils quivering, eyes wide. He was faced more thorns, more roots, more bush that cut his naked skin. Forcing himself through the labyrinth in a desperate dash he suddenly reached a wall. The Azure glazed stones were cold to his touch, their surface smooth; unclimbable.


    Footsteps above, mute voices, and Sjerub shrunk down in the growing darkness. He crouched between the ferns and saw a six-headed patrol pass. Their gazes blindly moved over him and the priestesses continued.


    The horn blew again, closer this time. He followed the wall in the opposite direction to the patrol. A gate lit up in the distance. Behind it lay the causeway over the water towards the city, an exit of these hunting grounds.


    The gate was heavily guarded, as were the few stairs leading up to the walls. Braziers cast a fiery orange-red glow over the heavy bronze doors. Sjerub turned away. He wasn''t getting out through there, and neither was he likely to reach the walls and jump into the canals to swim to safety. The chances of escape seemed slim, so he turned inwards; eyes on the temple. Eneduanna.


    The dozens of lighted windows called him through the gardens. Back into the labyrinth he went.


    He skulked, stalked, crawled. The rain increased, as did the darkness. His movements and sounds were shrouded by the rain. Sjerub heard distant shouts. Feminine and stern.


    A snap to his left, and an arrow whistled past his face. Instinctively Sjerub sprinted through the roses. He fled like prey.


    ¡®Dumuzid!¡¯ It screeched from the dark, and three horn blows sounded in quick succession on his location. He heard his pursuers behind him, snapping branches and twigs under their hasty feet.


    Sjerub took cover behind an old thick tree, pressing his body against the bark while trying to calm down his burning lungs that screamed for air. How quickly one breathes when frightened.


    A figure rushed past, a vague dim scarlet blur. Another came from the other side. Then a third. They continued without seeing him. A quick glance around revealed lights rapidly closing in from all directions.


    He decided to follow the three priestesses. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    A momentary break in the cloud cover, and a sliver of moon appeared in the black heaven.


    A gift from Kusuh. Lord of loyalty, master of oaths and promises.


    Silver light showed the three huntresses milling around on a field. Two were discussing in whispers while one of the spearwomen was standing closer, with her back towards Sjerub.


    He felt his muscles tense. Involuntarily his mouth snarled open, showing his teeth in anger and disgust. Around him were bramble vines, thorny appendages with sour fruit long soiled by rot. He carefully made his footing through the thorns.


    The moon disappeared again, swallowed by the night, and deep darkness returned.


    Sjerub reached out, lunging forward and striking the unaware priestess. He pulled her back into the plants, allowing him to fall backwards with her atop of him. Without a moment''s waste he wrapped the bramble vine around her gentle neck. The thorns dug into his palms but he pulled tightly.


    Eyes took a moment to adjust to the returned blackness of night, but it didnt take long for the huntresses to notice one of their own was missing.


    ¡®Dumuzid!¡¯ One of them called out. She sounded furious, Sjerub coldly noted as he choked the life out of her sister. His prey struggled, kicking her feet, fingers grabbing his arms, nails scratching his face.


    ¡®-Trapped like a rat! If you manage to live through the night we will find you at dawn!¡¯


    Soft choking sounds from the strangled priestess, Sjerub holding tightly, the bramble vine noose cutting into the skin of her throat. She began convulsing, eyes bulging, then went limp.


    ¡®-The net is closing Dumuzid. Your vile Hurrian blood will flow over our altars!¡¯ They shot their arrows and charged into the bush with drawn knives.


    But sjerub had already left, hands now holding the familiar wood of a spear. His hand held a weapon, the conviction to master his own fate propelling him further.


    ***


    Just like the gatehouse, the temple¡¯s entrance was well-lit. Fires burned besides the doors and the window cast warm light onto the surrounding overgrown terraces. A small grouping of priestess guards stood around, mostly younger acolytes, peering out into the dark forest of Eneduanna''s garden. They seemed annoyed that they were not able to partake in the hunt.


    Sjerub emerged from the darkness, naked skin covered in mud and scratches. He sprinted straight for the temple''s entrance. A multitude of confused screams and warnings as priestess were forced to turn around to see a naked Hurrian dash past them over the tiles. With a bestial roar he impaled the lone guard in front of him, just a young girl. He left her to bleed out on the tiles and rushed inside.


    The entrance hall was empty, the balconies void and the glass ceiled dome black and reflective of the candle-light below. He shut the doors of the temple behind him and barred them. Moments later the sisters slammed onto the entrance. They sounded like hellcats as they clawed and seethed against the doors.


    Days before he was dragged through this Temple wet and confused, weak from imprisonment, brought before the ailing High-priestess. And that was were he would go.


    He ran up the stairs, hoping his thin memories of that night would not betray him. He heard the doors break open but didn''t take the time to look. One didn''t need eyes to know the entire sisterhood of Uruk was yapping at his heels.


    A glow of light ahead, a candle, followed by more.


    The way was lit, clarity affirming his determination.


    He laid eyes upon the high doorway of Eneduanna¡¯s chamber.


    Close; To her. To whom he served.


    A figure split off from the corridor wall, appearing from a hidden alcove. In her hands two long Kris-knives.


    Hard dark eyes flickered in the candle-light.


    ¡®Turn away at once, trespasser.¡¯


    ¡®I serve Eneduanna. Out of my way.¡¯


    ¡®She is in ritual, she cannot be disturbed.¡¯


    Behind him he heard the noise of the rest of the order. They had manged to break through the doors. What followed was a vengeful roar, surging up the stairs.


    Sjerub attacked. His bloodied speartip pierced nothing. In reply a bronze knife''s edge cut the air mere inches from his neck. He struck anew but she proved a capable fighter. Wherever he attacked her blades blocked, and in return the knifepoints came closer each time he tried. With increasing desperation he tried to find a way through. The noise increased, loud clamoring, storming feet.


    Sjerub clenched his jaw and opened his defence. Her Kris-knife immediately sank into his upper thigh.


    Biting back the pain he grasped her wrist and pushed her against the wall, reversing positions. He ran again in a trail of bright red blood. The candles hissed has he flung himself into the Revered one¡¯s chamber.


    ¡®No!¡¯ He heard the knife-priestess scream.


    Sjerub surged through the sea of candles. There she was: Eneduanna.


    Asleep in a white gown her olive skin held a feverish shine. Her almond eyes were closed. His spear pointed at her throat.


    ¡®Not a step closer!¡¯ He commanded at the doorway - through which a multitude of hateful desperate priestesses were staring.


    A chuckle sounded and they receded, making way for the orange eyed Matron.


    ¡®Your performance has been impressive.¡¯ She conceded. ¡®Shame we couldn''t breed you for our orphanages. Your blood would have made fine servants.¡¯


    She entered the chamber with him and Eneduanna, the Revered one oblivious in her great bed.


    ¡®-Alas all things must come to an end, and you have outlived your allotted time.¡¯


    Sjerub placed his weapon¡¯s edge on his mistress throat and his grey eyes became glassy.


    ¡®Another step and I¡¯ll end it. Your Queen gone, your Divine dead. Speak to the Heavens without her.¡¯


    Amalda smiled. ¡®No you won''t. A Hurrian oath is as certain as death. You cannot hurt your mistress.¡¯


    Sjerub¡¯s spear trembled. It shook, scraping over Eneduanna¡¯s skin.


    The Matron¡¯s deep, rugged voice filled his ears.


    ¡®Dont make any mistakes now, Hurrian. Be content that I will remember you, as I rarely do with your kind. You have gone down in a blaze of glory, sold your hide expensively. An Honorable end.¡¯


    She gave a signal and an arrow was shot, piercing Sjerub¡¯s chest.


    He fell back, dripping his blood over the edge of Eneduanna¡¯s bed. His spear clattered to the floor.


    ¡®There¡¯s still some life in the Dumuzid. Back to the Kettle with him!¡¯


    ¡®¡¯A Hurrian oath is worth more than Gold.¡¯ King Enmerkar said gleefully as he eyed the tall Hurrian mercenary before him. With a wave of the Larsan King¡¯s hand chest of shining coin were opened.

 Chapter Twenty Six - Men of the Canyon

    <h1>Chapter Twenty six - Men of the Canyon </h1>


    If one did not use ropes and climbing hooks, which Sapphire was not intent on using, there was a sole entrance to the gorge. It was a narrow ledge that descended in parallel to the canyon wall.


    The silent serviles parted for him and Sapphire took his first step down. His gemmed turban was straightened, and he wore his best robes. His silver rings were polished to a shine. Clean-shaven and scented with a precious perfume the merchant walked down the narrow path, trying his best to ignore the looming chasm besides his feet.


    Further down he saw fierce men lean out of the first rockside caves, holding bows of their own.


    Sapphire held his hands high, showing himself unarmed. ¡®I have come to speak. I am a merchant from the east, traveling the desert. A newcomer to this land, not causative of your hardship. The tall lady has sent me to speak with you, please do not kill me.¡¯


    The tribesmen in the shadowy hollows discussed, then called out: ¡®Proceed, merchant from the east, but only you.¡¯


    Sapphire slowly descended, step by step, careful not to slip from the foot-wide stretch of hewn rock path and tumble into the depths besides him. How deep does this thing go? He wondered. The bottom, if present at all, was shrouded in darkness.


    serrated arrows were pointed at him not only from beneath him, but also across the canyon, where Sapphire now discovered an entire village built in the shadowy rocksides. It was like a honeycomb, lighting up from within the dark, steep rock. Zig-zag steps had been cut from the stone to give access between levels. Somewhere below a rope bridge was spun between the two lengths.


    Impressive, Dan Sarpa decided. Although highly impractical.


    As he got within arms-length of the first tribesman he was pulled into a cave, not more than a shallow alcove, and searched for weapons he did not possess. Their tongue was difficult to discern but Sapphire could understand the basic forms of their dialect.


    ¡®You are one of her ash-devils?¡¯ They asked.


    ¡®I am a traveler.¡¯ Sapphire replied. ¡®I speak your language, I come to talk.¡¯


    The cave-dwellers spat in response, but he saw the desperation in their eyes. ¡®Continue down. Our chief will speak with you.¡¯ They retook their positions and aimed their bows at the silhouettes above. Curved blades hung from their hips.


    Sapphire continued, the ledge narrowing until his back and hands were pressed against stone and his toes hovered over nothing. Sliding around the corner he reached another cave, this one larger. It was filled with warriors that looked at him dismissively, and as Sapphire stood there uncertainly looking for their chief, they urged him further. The downwards path led to a wider ledge, a whole series of hollows carved out around this depth. Here families were huddled together. They were thin, sickly people showing bony faces. Mothers shielded off their sons and daughters from the strange merchant, picking them up and carrying them deeper into their caves. ¡®I seek your chieftain.¡¯ Sapphire said.


    An older man rose from his seat at the back of the cave. He was bald with a strong grey beard, lines of black hair running from his lips to his chin like dual outpourings of ink. His skin was bronzed and weathered, but his lean body showed strength. His weathered arms were criss-crossed with white scars.


    ¡®Who is this stranger in my hold?¡¯ A pair of unfriendly eyes narrowed as they inspected Sapphire¡¯s exotic merchant-attire, hovering over the gem in his turban.


    ¡®They call me mister Sapphire.¡¯ Dan Sarpa replied, pointing at the large gem on his turban. ¡®I am a trader of long distances. Semiramis has asked me to speak with you.¡¯


    ¡®The tall witch has asked you to talk with us?¡¯ The old chieftain shook his head. ¡®Its unnatural.¡¯ He added, walking over with a slight limp. One of the women handed him over a sword, which he fasted to his belt. Another pulled a leather cuirass over his head and tightened the armour with ropes at his shoulders. A third handed over an indented bronze shield. The old chief was taller than the merchant. The chief raised his chin and lowered his old green eyes dismissively to his guest. ¡®My tribe does not serve demons of the sand.¡¯


    ¡®Demon?¡¯ Sapphire asked. ¡®She is a very special woman, but she is but of flesh and blood. Her bloodline comes from another age, from another world. It is natural for us men to serve those of her lineage.¡¯


    ¡®Demon.¡¯ The chief affirmed, craning his neck forward and sniffing Sapphire¡¯s neck.


    ¡®You do not smell of sulphur and ash, but the evil men at her command do. They have come into our valleys and burned our villages. They locked off the mountain passes. They came stealing our people in the night and we could hear them feed in the darkness. Vile acts that came with the appearance of that lady. We have seen her stand at our great canyon before, demanding, proposing. First she spake in ancient tongue, which we did not understand. Then she tried the words of our neighbours, which we refused to reply. Finally she spoke our own language, learned from the victims she had captured, and from her deceiving mouth came disfigured words and tortured passages; speaking of peace in servitude.¡¯


    Sapphire licked his dry lips. ¡®There is a way out of this. Pledge your allegiance to her. Save further bloodshed.¡¯


    ¡®Pledge our allegiance!¡¯ The chief called out, his voice filling the cavern with thunder.


    ¡®Have you seen what she does with her followers? Our sons and brothers were stolen and we found them back the next day, eyes like glass and mouths sealed, returning with blades in their hands to kill their own fathers. I still have a good mind, despite my proud age of sixty, and I¡¯d like to keep it. I like to tell jokes to my friends, I like to dream, to think. I like to hear the drums of the musician and the singing of my daughter. It is good of you to have come here, but I think it is time for you to return to the surface world. We are fine in our little crevice and like to be left alone.¡¯


    Sapphire nodded with understanding. ¡®What is your name, chieftain?¡¯


    ¡®Deccard.¡¯ The greying chieftain stated with distrust. Sapphire gestured to the others in the cave. ¡®And these are your family, your children?¡¯


    Deccard gave a glare and Sapphire smiled apologetically. ¡®I mean them no harm, chieftain of this depth. But forgive me when I say I cannot mistake their sight for hunger. Starvation is a miserable end, I¡¯ve seen it more often than not during my journeys. Above, in the following of Semiramis, there is food. She can feed them, if satiated.¡¯ Sapphire inched closer and started to whisper so only the chieftain could hear. ¡®You and me both know very well how this is going to end. Do you not want for your blood to live on after you?¡¯The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Deccard replied in loud voice. ¡®I rather throw my own children into the depths than have them serve that Beastess.¡¯


    ¡®You won''t throw anything. You will all starve out before the end of the month. Semiramis is merciful, she wants your children to live. This deep pit you call home is of no concern of hers, and neither is this entire dry land. She wants soldiers to take to the east, to conquer, to reclaim. Where great rivers of water flow unopposed and the land becomes green. She will be grateful for servitude, negotiate well and she might even allow you to keep your own thoughts. You will have to leave this place for good, however, and follow her.¡¯


    ¡®We will hold out until the end, merchant-negotiator. We have denied Semiramis request before and we will do so again.¡¯


    ¡®Disbeliever.¡¯ Sapphire was surprised by his own words and the ferocity with which they were spoken. ¡®-She is blood of the Gods.¡¯ He continued on calmer tone. ¡®A divine creature. Have you ever seen a woman as tall as her? She is of a higher magnitude than us men, hence her cruelty is great to the lesser that oppose her. Would you not kill the rat that feeds on your grain, do you not swat the fly that lands on your lap? Serve, I beg you, serve and live. I can redeem you and your clan, forgo your pride and let them live.¡¯


    Deccard sighed. ¡®Let me show you something, Sapphire merchant.¡¯ He brushed past Sapphire and leaned out of the cave. He watched the path upwards and saw his tribesmen in their positions, sticking out of the upper caves with weapons ready. Further up the path Semiramis¡¯ servants and her banners loomed over the ledge above, silent and unmoving like painted clay statues.


    Deccard growled and moved left; following the path deeper into the depths. He gestured for Sapphire to follow. ¡®Come, merchant, you must see to understand.¡¯


    They lowered into the canyon over steep stairways and narrow ledges, light from above gradually dimming. More caves were passed, poorly lit and filled with downtrodden people. They descended a long while, and when it got too dark Deccard lit a torch to illuminate the way. The caves disapeared and all that was left was an increasingly steep narrow ledge leading down.


    ¡®What will you show me, Deccard?¡¯ Sapphire asked.


    ¡®An outsider like you doesn''t know the customs of these lands. You must be shown instead of told.¡¯ The tribal chief replied.


    After a long descent they reached what seemed like the bottom. Sapphire had sweated all the way down, constantly afraid to fall, and felt relieved as he felt a broad plateau of rock under his feet again. Looking up, he saw the light from above reduced to a tiny snaking line, a crack far above in a world of darkness. ¡®Your tribe has chosen quite the place as their home.¡¯


    ¡®My ancestors were wise. Ten men can defend against an army, a hundred against the world. Now come, come.¡¯


    As they moved over the bottom torchlight showed arrows on the canyon floor, cudgels, spears. A helmet. Then flattened mangled bodies, decomposing in various states of rot. Many of them.


    ¡®Your mistress keeps sending them against us. We keep killing them.¡¯ Deccard sighed.


    They passed the fallen corpses and discarded arnaments and came upon a small break in the canyon wall, a glow of light coming through the opening. The passage was tight, and only one could enter at a time. Deccard sternly gestured for the merchant to enter, one hand resting on the bronze sword in his scabbard. Rounding the corner Sapphire was hit with the sudden heat and brightness. He blinked his eyes, and before him he saw a twelve white robed men on their knees, praying around an altar of fire that glowed within an encasing of patterned multi-coloured glass.


    The glass panels were held in place by gold, and four golden rings held two long wooden staves used to carry the fire-chest. The flames within danced and sparked, and through the glowing glass panels the dark cave walls were primarily cast in orange light, though occasionally fragments of green, red and blue simmered through the rays. Sapphire stood in awe until he realized the muttering of the monks had ceased.


    Twelve old men now stood upright and watched the newcomers expectantly. Milky, yellowed and blind eyes twisted around the merchant. Strangely, Sapphire felt fear at the sight of these robed elders.


    Deccard pushed Sapphire out of the way and the large aged tribal bowed his bald head. ¡®My apologies, wise ones, for disturbing you.¡¯


    One of the white robed gestured with a wrinkled hand. His back was crooked and he shuffled a finger¡¯s breadth closer. ¡®Good day and blessings to you, Deccard of the canyon-men.¡¯


    His head switched back to Sapphire, and the rest of the old men followed. ¡®Good day and blessings to you, stranger. Have you come to purify yourself?¡¯


    Deccard snorted. ¡®He is a messenger of the Tormentor. According to him she wishes to negotiate.¡¯


    He placed a strong hand on Sapphire¡¯s clothed shoulder.


    ¡®Your eyes are not worthy to see but circumstance has allowed you this instance. These are the grandmasters of the order of the sacred flame, alongside their greatest relic now assembled in my house. Monks. Masters of wisdom. Now forced to take refuge in my house. Your mistress has scourged their kind from these lands. Beyond hunger of my children, the struggle of my people, I must keep them secure. They have put their trust in me and I cannot surrender.¡¯


    One of the monks gave an angry frown, stroking his long white beard furiously. ¡®She will extinguish the sacred fire now she knows it is here!¡¯


    Another old man, more gentle of appearance, interceded. ¡®She will extinguish it nonetheless. What was the last time you ate? Dear Deccards men are starving, as are his children. We have burdened him so severely¡­¡¯ The old monk shook his head. ¡®I am sorry we came to your house, Deccard.¡¯


    ¡®I have no regrets.¡¯ The chieftain replied and made way to leave the monks again. ¡®Now you know, merchant of the Tall one. How will you negotiate? I cannot surrender these wise lords to your mistress, the Tall one will leave them tortured disfigured corpses.¡¯


    Dan Sarpa licked his lips as he sensed opportunity. He had come upon a trapped cargo of priestly men and a golden fire; A rare variable, valued so highly by the opposing party. Here was room for haggling and profit.


    ¡®If my mistress lets them go and gives them free passage to any of the wind¡¯s directions, will you finally bow down? Will you provide her with soldiers and sustenance? Shall you depart from this pit and follow Semiramis to far-away territories, wages paid in full in the lives of these great men?¡¯


    Deccard said nothing and Sapphire pressed further. ¡®Resistance will be met with inevitable death for you and your men. Th¨¢t beautiful fire will be doused in the blood of its keepers. The coming fate of your tribe I dread. My mistress will take in her collection all their minds and use the empty husks for her purposes until they are spent completely. Dead-eyed children will march across the sand, and the women will birth a generation of pain and slavery.¡¯


    Deccard frowned. ¡®Perhaps death is a better alternative than servitude - for all of us.¡¯


    Sapphire pouted his lips. ¡®There is a way out, for these monks and their fugitive altar, and for you, Deccard. Strike a deal and there¡¯ll be no rapine, no extinguishing, no decapitation and no more hunting. Your tribe will cease to become prey and be safe under the sacred banner of Semiramis the tall.¡¯


    Sapphire nodded contently at his own words. Semiramis the tall. ¡®I have seen enough. Allow me to return to Semiramis and speak with her. I will swiftly return with an offer. It will be yours to accept or decline.¡¯


    Deccard looked to the monks for guidance, but they kept their faces masks - unwilling to manipulate the fate of the chieftain for their own lives. He swallowed, a droplet of sweat rolling over his temple. ¡®As you wish¡­¡¯ Deccard stated weakly.


    Sapphire¡¯s smile widened to a wolfish grin, and he returned to the surface with haste.

 Chapter Twenty Seven - Queens Nightmare

    <h1>Chapter Twenty Seven - Queen¡¯s Nightmare </h1>


    Back into the gardens he was dragged, but Sjerub resisted only weakly. His naked torso was covered in a mixture of mud and blood. Hands pulled his hair, and with every step he felt the arrowhead lodged between his ribs. His breathing was laborious, painful, his strength withering.


    The priestesses said nothing. They held torches that illuminated the surrounding thorns, leading him back to the black kettle. Rainwater poured over its edges. His fate awaited.


    No more taunting, no more demands. They wanted to be done with him.


    The rain increased, vision dimmed, but through his droplet-filled eyelashes he could see a figure approach.


    ¡®Matron Amalda, release the Hurrian at once.¡¯ A soft voice ordered.


    The priestesses halted, the drag on his hair faltered. He could see Heabani, drenched in his thin dress, skin grey and grimy from washed out paints and cosmetics. He was bald.


    ¡®We have a sacrifice to conduct, for the betterment of the Revered one. Do not interfere.¡¯ Amalda replied, open hostility in her voice. The other priestesses strengthen their grip on their weapons.


    Heabani wouldn''t move. ¡®The Hurrian is personal property of Eneduanna.¡¯


    ¡®The Dumuzid must die.¡¯


    ¡®He will not.¡¯


    The two stared at each other. Rain continued to fall. Amalda pulled a knife. ¡®It would be a blessing to end you as well, eunuch. Do not overstate your importance.¡¯


    Heabani smiled. ¡®And I thought you were a wise adversary. But not so wise it seems now. My death would be whispered through all the Uruk alleys and famed houses. Eneduanna will learn. Eneduanna will be displeased. Eneduanna will have you executed and I will laugh at you from the underworld.¡¯ Heabani¡¯s eyes moved to Sjerub, barely able to stand with an arrow sticking out of his chest. ¡®What were you even thinking Amalda. The Revered one would have been furious at his death. You think she wouldn¡¯t find out?¡¯


    ¡®I calculated her rage. It was a worthy price to pay.¡¯ Amalda hissed. ¡®Her soul needs to be returned. Sacrifice must be made.¡¯


    ¡®Then sacrifice another. I have informed the noble houses and people of value to me that they should stay indoors tonight. You are free to hunt in the alleys and brothels for easy prey. The Hurrian you will release. By the decree of Eneduanna you will.¡¯


    Amalda gave a slight nod, and Sjerub was thrown towards heabani. He fell to his hands and knees in the wet grass. ¡®Crawl to your savior.¡¯ Amalda spat at him. ¡®He will not be there next time to save you, Hurrian.¡¯


    ¡®The Prince is with me.¡¯ Heabani affirmed, helping up Sjerub. ¡®Now we will leave these grounds. Pray to Inanna that the Hurrian lives through the night. Your life will depend on it.¡¯


    ¡®I pray he dies, and by the Goddess I know Eneduanna will thank me, for she will rise renewed and ascended with the Heavens behind her eyes and little men and desires will not taint her shining stature.¡¯


    ¡®Whatever you say, protect the Revered one, that is your task. I will keep the future of Uruk intact.¡¯


    He turned and allowed Sjerub to lean onto his gentle shoulders.


    ***


    Sjerub grimaced as Heabani pulled on the arrow. They were in a small house, hastily evacuated by the earlier inhabitants. He lay atop a table, it smelled of spilled wine and rancid beer, though he was gradually dying it red with his own blood. ¡®We ought to give you the best physicians in Uruk, but sadly there is no more time.¡¯ The eunuch said, prodding the arrow further.


    The Hurrian groaned only in reply, jaws clenched.


    ¡®Its a miracle the shaft did not penetrate.¡¯ heabani continued. ¡®The tip is wedged firmly between your ribs. Dug itself straight into the bone. Your lung should be unaffected. You can breathe yes?¡¯


    ¡®By the Gods Heabani, just pull it out. Make it quick before I bleed to death on this damned table.¡¯


    Heabani¡¯s face hovered over him for a moment. ¡®Calm yourself, dear Hurrian. Keep the heart slow please, it reduces the flow. As for the arrow, I am afraid it is serrated, so I will have to cut it out.¡¯


    He handed over a small strip of leather and Sjerub bit down.


    A small bronze knife appeared in candlelight and Heabani immediately cut into Sjerub¡¯s flesh. ¡®Usually I use my skills to torture folk, not save them.¡¯ the eunuch calmly stated. ¡®But I know enough of the human body to know the basics of healing and saving life.¡¯ He worked swiftly, quick cuts, Sjerub biting so hard on the leather he thought his teeth would break. Then Heabani pulled on the shaft and Sjerub heard his chest crack. A wave of red pain flowed over his eyes. It felt like Heabani had pulled the entire side of his ribcage.


    ¡®There.¡¯ Heabani triumphantly stated. He tossed the arrow to the floor, the knife exchanged for thread and needle. ¡®There, there.¡¯ The eunuch continued. ¡®Breathe calmly now Hurrian, the worst has passed. Now I just need to stitch you up and stop the bleeding.¡¯


    But Sjerub had passed out. He awoke with his chest in a thick wide linen bandage. He rose up with difficulty, pain ebbing from his side. Heabani sat slumped over in a chair nearby. His dress was stained with blood. ¡®Ah, youre back.¡¯ A faint smile over the eunuch¡¯s painted mouth. ¡®I have worked on you leg as well. You lost a lot of blood my friend.¡¯


    Sjerub swallowed, tasting iron in his mouth. His eyes were blurry. He held out his hand. ¡®Give me a weapon.¡¯


    The eunuch chuckled. ¡®Your instincts are still active, a good sign I¡¯d say.¡¯ He rose, and his hand was fixed on the scabbard of a blade. ¡®My operatives have recovered this for you.¡¯ He placed the sword besides Sjerub on the table. ¡®You are going to need it my friend.¡¯


    Sjerub nodded. ¡®What comes next? Has Eneduanna risen yet? The priestesses must be punished. I want revenge Heabani. Bloody revenge, especially on the Matron. The old black haired hag with the orange eyes. I will take her head and piss in her dead mouth.¡¯


    Heabani placed a gentle arm on Sjerub¡¯s chest. ¡®Calm, calm. Do not risk opening your wounds.¡¯ He sighed. ¡®Revenge is a poor commodity. It is worthless for all save a few collectors. I fear you cannot stay here. Things are¡­ chaotic at the moment. Until Eneduanna¡¯s rule returns to Uruk you will not be safe. Whatever skill you have with your blade will be pointless against the entire sisterhood, especially in your current state.¡¯


    ¡®Again I must live like a rat in the dark. Why do they want me dead?¡¯


    ¡®You have a bond with the Revered one. Furthermore, Eneduanna proclaimed you Prince of Uruk on the night you were released from the flooded cells. She was lost in ritual not long after. You must understand that this new title has far-reaching consequences for you. The crown in Uruk is not hereditary. It is earned and passed to the next whenever the HIgh-Priestess decides. Amalda seems to have vested interests in the dynasty of Kitun. I''m not sure why, but she seems hellbent on keeping him on the throne. It could explain her extreme hostility against you, even going as far as attempting the murder of Eneduanna¡¯s personal property, for that is what you are Sjerub; sacred property, bought with gold and mercy.¡¯This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡®So I kill Amalda.¡¯


    ¡®Kitun is not happy with you either, and he has a large band of loyal followers. A great many, veteran warriors and raiders of all directions. Ear-collectors, grizzled men of many battles. No my friend, there will be no revenge for you, forget about such infantile notions. Until order is restored you must hide, and I am afraid that even my safehouses will not keep you secure. I must send you out of Uruk, this night if possible.¡¯


    ¡®Where?¡¯ Sjerub asked. Departing Uruk didn''t seem such a bad prospect.


    ¡®The safest place right now would be with our enemies. I would sleep contently if you were standing behind the great walls of Ur, but I am afraid they will kill you on sight. Hostilities have opened at Uruk''s borders. No, it will not be easy to find a place for you. Expect hunters, assasins¡­¡¯ Heabani took a sharp breath. ¡®Im sending you to Aratta. Back to Hurrian lands.¡¯


    ¡®I am not welcome there.¡¯ Sjerub replied grimly. ¡®And I am bound to Eneduanna. I serve Eneduanna. I must serve Eneduanna, lest the Gods curse my name.¡¯


    ¡®Oh you will serve.¡¯ Heabani replied with a sparkle in his eyes. ¡®You will recruit a new Hurrian legion for the Revered one¡¯s use. Go to the throne of the white mountains and tell them ten-thousand talents of gold are available for whom is brave enough to take it. Bring them back and you will be secure with an army of your brethren, and you can sack and burn half the world to Eneduanna¡¯s delight. Uruk needs such forces. The temple needs such forces. It is never good to depend on only one stream of power. The Revered one needs multiple armies and you are an excellent way to provide one. You are of royal lineage, both in Aratta and now in Uruk. You are a representative of Eneduanna''s will. Canyou walk?''


    ¡®I feel like I have just come back from death¡¯s door.¡¯


    ¡®You cannot stay here. I will have you smuggled out this night by ship amongst a cargo of pottery. The vessel has already been prepared. It will bring you to Quesab at the mouth of the Riverlands. From there you must find the foothills to your homeland. The city state Quesab states neutrality but the sisterhood is active there.Agents reside in every corner. Amalda is a very thorough woman. She usually gets what she wants. She has a grudge against you and by the divine she will carry out her desire for ending your life. Your ship is ready my friend. Run,Sjerub, Run.¡¯


    ***


    Heabani sat besides the sleeping Eneduanna. The events of earlier in the night had sapped his energy. He had taken up new clothes but there was still dried blood under his fingernails.


    Eneduanna was beside him, motionless. A pair of priestess guarded her, warily looking at the eunuch.


    ¡®I''m getting tired, my Divine mistress.¡¯ Heabani confessed. ¡®Old and tired. It is hard work to keep your city intact, my dear. Madness seems to reign in your absence.¡¯


    The Revered one; now enveloped in her sleep. Eneduanna¡¯s face was calm, painless, pulled to black ocean¡¯s deep. She seemed lifeless, but a faint rise and fall of her chest proved otherwise, just the slightest of movements.


    Heabani felt his eyes become teary. ¡®Please wake up, Eneduanna.¡¯


    But she did not wake.


    ¡®I am a poor substitute to your Command.¡¯ The eunuch continued. ¡®The King does not have my trust, the sisterhood has a thirst for blood and the city demands to see you. Rumors have already spread, my mistress. I know, I collect them. I do my best to counter them but please, please wake up from your rest. Return from where you are, Eneduanna....¡¯


    Eneduanna walked over tiles covered in shallow water that sloshed against her ankles. She was cold, cold to her bones, and her naked body shivered incessantly. Around her complete darkness, save the light of Neti¡¯s lantern, whose serpentine feet slithered through the water besides her.


    ¡®This is the palace?¡¯ She asked, seeing only darkness beyond the lantern¡¯s shine.


    ¡®Oh, very much so.¡¯ Neti rumbled. ¡®They have all come for you, risen from the depths, leaving their estates. You dont see them?¡¯


    Eneduanna frowned and halted, crossing her arms before her breasts. ¡®I see nothing, dont play games with me doorman.¡¯


    ¡®Just a bit further, beautiful tall lady from above.¡¯ Neti stared intently at the tiles before him, raising the lantern high. ¡®There, there.¡¯ A circular platform became visible, raised just above the shallow water. Etched in the stone was her name: ??????????


    ¡®One more step, lady from above¡¯ He said, and she took position on the panel. As her feet touched the stone the darkness left. Lights flared up, showing her to be in a seemingly endless hall. Raised high before her seven judges looked at her. Their faces were thin, skin stretched over skulls, faces displeased. Noses sagging and rotten. Long white hair, penetrant accusatory eyes of various colours. Crowns dulled by time, wigs of combed hair over their deformed faces.


    One of the corpse-judges pointed a long thin accusatory finger at her.


    ¡®Eneduanna is your name, and what are you doing here?¡¯ They ogled her naked body, only becoming more displeased.


    ¡®The mother of my soul sends me, holy Inanna, queen of heaven.¡¯


    They seemed unimpressed. ¡®You do not belong here!¡¯ They screamed on with grated voices. Their accusations filled her ears with pain.


    ¡®Inanna Sends - Me.¡¯ She spoke, becoming angry herself.


    The judges fell silent, then one rose.


    ¡®It seems¡­. You are correct. Sadly.¡¯ His lipsy dry swollen tongue ended with a chuckle. ¡®You were sent. But you dont even know why you are here, do you?¡¯


    ¡®I have trust in Inanna.¡¯


    ¡®You are here to prepare your soul. Inanna desires your body. But you are inferior. Low-born, your veins clogged with mud.¡¯


    A second judge leaned forward. ¡®Poor - quality.¡¯ His old lips pushed forward the air with decaying smell.


    ¡®We will burn you out, impure filth-walker.¡¯ A third added.


    ¡®Consent?¡¯ The fourth asked.


    ¡®Do you consent?¡¯ The fifth asked.


    ¡®If you wish to learn what she wants from you, you must consent.¡¯ The sixth coughed out.


    ¡®Tell us if you consent.¡¯ The seventh demanded.


    ¡®I consent.¡¯ She replied


    The seven judges simultaneously gave wide smiles that strained and stretched their ancient, decaying faces. ¡®Very well. Seven gates leading to seven judges, to break the seven seals of your body.¡¯


    The one in the middle flicked his wrist and pain entered through Eneduanna¡¯s fingers, quickly spreading throughout her body. She struggled to remain standing as the pain flashed through her spine, increasing in intensity with every heartbeat. She fell to the ground, screaming out in agony when she could no longer resist. But her voice was not that of of hers, it was old, older. Her teeth dropped from her mouth, her fingers became wrinkled. Her hair became grey, then white, then fell out. She became blind, her body crooked, shriveled and dry. She heard the grating laughs of the judges until her faltering ears became deaf. She could not move, hear, see, smell or taste. She was locked into her corpse and tormented with waves of excruciating pain. She was hung on a hook and left to suffer.


    Heabani sighed, not seeing any recognition in the waxen face of his mistress. He caressed Eneduanna¡¯s cold skin. A priestess entered the bedchamber to attend to the sleeping divine.


    As she brushed past Heabani she whispered:


    ¡®Men at the sacred gate. They seem to carry words of importance.¡¯ Her tone was dismissive; eager to see him go. The priestess ignored the eunuch and leaned over Eneduanna, parting her lips to give her honeyed water.


    Heabani left the bedchamber and moved swiftly through the temple halls. Words of importance. His near inexhaustible curiosity and love for whispers finally seemed at its end. He did not look forward to hearing whatever some messengers had to say, he was stressed enough already as it was.


    Out he went of the temple, immediately beset by wet winds that pulled on his robes. He cast a sad glance up at the dark rainy sky. A sliver of sun would be nice, lighten the moods of all a bit. But the churning mass of clouds remained, a kingdom of rain hanging over the city. A regime of misery that would not move. Eneduanna slept and the world wept, it seemed.


    Heabani moved through the gardens, the plants and flowers sadder and more lustless every day; the soil soggy.


    Outside the sacred district three rough bearded men in travelers cloaks awaited on the causeway, bowing their hooded heads before the eunuch.


    ¡®Yes?¡¯ Heabani asked impatiently. One leaned forward to whisper in his ear: ¡®The men of Ur are coming. They have armed. They march upon Uruk. Following the Ur-men, The King Eridu has decided to leave his swamp, and marches upon Uruk. Twelve thousand men are coming north.¡¯


    Heabani grimaced, but with dread he heard the spy continue his rancid whispers. ¡®Isin, to the north, has opened its long barred gates, and out come warriors. They too seem intent on Eneduanna¡¯s destruction. From the north, five thousand warriors are descending, joined in alliance with the southern Kingdoms.¡¯


    The eunuch pressed a few gold coins in their greedy claws. ¡®Inform the King-¡¯ He replied with hushed tone. ¡®Uruk¡¯s men will not go to war without Eneduanna¡¯s blessing, but the city needs to prepare for a siege.¡¯

 Chapter Twenty Eight - Pleasing Semiramis

    <h1>Twenty eight - Pleasing Semiramis </h1>


    The tent room faintly smelled of spices, fat and rosemary-coated lamb. The gnawed remains of a roasted kid lay on a silver platter in a corner. A hazy sweet grey smoke lingered through the chamber, lit up by a thin ray of light that shone through a ripped seam in the pavillion-ceiling.


    Sapphire sat with legs criss-crossed between the pillows. The smoke calmed him, made him relax and lean back on the carpets. Here; in her presence, he was content. Calmly the words rolled out of his mouth, and he told his mistress what he had seen and heard.


    Semiramis, her tall body seated on her high wooden seat, loomed over the merchant and listened attentively; like a mother would listen to the rapport of her child. When the subject of the praying monks came up her expression fouled.


    ¡®Have you encountered these elders before?¡¯ Sapphire asked. ¡®The tribal chief called them the monks of the sacred flame, and seemed to hold a great deal of respect for these fragile white robed figures.¡¯


    ¡®Grandmasters. Monks. They are just old impotent men, and I have them killed wherever I can find them.¡¯ Semiramis confirmed. ¡®I exterminated a small stronghold in the deep west six moons ago. You see; these men do not worship me, refuse it, and harden others to refuse as well. I should have known their blighted presence was within the canyon as well, these locals have resisted far too long for common desert tribesmen. The death of this order and its attendants is priority, Dan Sarpa. You must learn this, and you must pay attention to their ways if you are to encounter them again, the day may come that I give you the command to hunt them out at other places as well.¡¯


    ¡®Divine is your right to kill these disbelievers, my mistress.¡¯ Sapphire replied tacitly. ¡®But the men in the canyon are desperate. I believe the fire-altar holds the key for success without violence. The locals might be swayed into some form of subservience if you were to¡­ allow the monks safe passage.¡¯


    ¡®Safe passage?¡¯ Semiramis¡¯ mouth became displeased.


    Sapphire nervously licked his lips, not yet ready to give up. ¡®Down there they are starving. If you remain here not only will your precious time be wasted, but you will subjugate only host of dead. Better for them to bow, be branded and serve your might. Strange how I know so little of these fire worshippers, even as I have crossed the desert all my life. Still, even with my limited knowledge, I advise you to let the monks go.¡¯


    ¡®A possibility.¡¯ Semiramis rested her chin on her hand, long finger tapping against her cheek.


    ¡®May I give suggestion of proposal?¡¯ A chill ran down Sapphire¡¯s spine as he met his mistress¡¯ dark stare.


    ¡®You may.¡¯ Semiramis voice was cold.


    ¡®You will offer the burning altar and its aged attendants to leave unharmed, never to return to your realm again. Upon fulfilling the contract they are marked and permanently exiled out of your territory, wherever your holy Queendom may be...¡¯


    Semiramis said nothing and Sapphire quickly continued.


    ¡®Upon their departure you will receive the deep canyon in your possession. The inhabitants are good fighters, holding loyalty and honour in high regard. Take the strongest men in servitude and allow the rest to keep with their women and children. You can then demand tribute from the remainder.¡¯


    ¡®Dan Sarpa, you offer them good terms, very good terms for people that have resisted my rule for the longest of time. I thought you a negotiator. I expected ruthless mercantile exploitation, not the hand of clemency.¡¯


    Sapphire gave a slight nod. ¡®You want more men, this is how you will get it. If you want them all dead you need to do nothing else but wait. Those are your options, Divine one.¡¯


    ¡®Half their men in servitude, an annual tribute of children, and each of them branded. Those are my demands. Tell them this will be the last offer.¡¯ Semiramis¡¯ words were quick and harsh.


    Sapphire smiled, pleased with himself. Surely she would be pleased as well, an entire starving tribe emerging from the abyss by his hand. No more wasted serviles, no more lingering in this rocky waste. When Uruk itself awaited, what worth did these wastes hold?


    ***


    Sapphire swiftly returned to the canyon, where two armed forces still faced each other with readied arrows and spears. At the ledges hundreds of serviles stood unmoving and their banners massed in the wind, peering into the chasm like judges sentencing the judged. And as above so below, the tribesmen had their defiant eyes fixed on the ragged silhouettes, ready to send another wave of serviles to the depths.


    Dan Sarpa, with the sapphire in his turban sparkling in the desert scorch, moved between the two groups. He slid past armours, defences and sharp axes. A pathfinder; a dealmaker. He came with a disarming smile bearing gifts of salt, and his silver ringed hand was shaken when he offered it.


    The tribals had become accustomed to his presence, no longer threatening him with knives. Canyon-warriors escorted Sapphire to the lower wards of the earthen chasm, where the cliff sides became less steep and a town had squeezed into natural formations and hewn rock alike; a glowing honeycomb halfway down into the abyss.


    Down in the dark the grey Deccard awaited, armed for war.


    The chieftain of the besieged tribe heard Sapphire¡¯s whispering voice in his ears. His eyes widened, his jaw clenched, teeth gritted, like a wild horse buckling under newly thrown reigns. The demands of Semiramis were made known and with a tiny movement Deccard¡¯s neck bowed just the slightest bit. The chieftain gave no reply to Sapphire''s words, knowing negotiations to be over and the proposal a done deal.


    She will be pleased, Sapphire thought as his toes twitched impatiently.


    Deccard remained silent, gave a final wild stare at the gemmed merchant that stood in his subterranean house. The chieftain¡¯s mouth remained shut as he led Sapphire back down to the entrapped monks and their hidden fire.


    Sapphire¡¯s tongue flicked out over his sun-chapped lips. Off all the indebted tradesfolk and mercantile competitors he had ruined over the years, this victory tasted sweetest. No exalted-whores of Uruk to celebrate on, no fortunes spent on jewelry and foreign wines. He had better, Sapphire reminded himself; Far better, and she was pleased. He needed nothing else.


    Although¡­, Sapphire mulled. He imagined Kardid standing before him. Her long curls he saw, and in his mind a few of her brown strands became auburn red like that of her mistress.


    Sapphire sighed, the celebratory thoughts dissipating the lower they got. The surface heat was not found down here, and every step or shuffle took another degree of warmth away. Who would live here willingly? Winds howled past, blowing like flutes as they hurled down ito the depths. The wind strenghtened and with chilling force theystormed over the descending pair, distorting their balance and pulling them to the ledges. Sapphire had to hold onto his turban or risk losing it to the wind.


    Here live old spirits of the desert. No wonder these people¡¯s faces are hard. Out into the sun they will be led, to struggle no longer for themselves, but struggle for SEMIRAMIS.


    Sapphire¡¯s feet slipped, and with startling fear he tumbled over. Deccard¡¯s strong hand clasped around his arm and pulled him back to safety. The chieftain turned away with a grunt and continued the path as if nothing happened.


    ¡®Dont go chase the winds little man.¡¯ He said softly. ¡®There is still a long way down.¡¯


    Sapphire¡¯s smile had now completely gone, and the merchant focused on his feet the remainder of the descent. Again Deccard¡¯s torchlight showed the crumpled broken bodies of men that had fallen from great heights. It signalled the bottom, and Sapphire felt even more relief than the first time he had reached it.


    Swiftly now he went to where the monks had hidden themselves at the bottom of the desert. Deals had to be made.


    Light sparked ahead and the fellowship of old sages in white robes stood ready, their modest possessions packed on their backs and their golden-glass encased fire raised by two monks on wooden poles. As the flames glowed within, the multi-coloured panels showed inscription in a language Sapphire did not know.


    Dan Sarpa¡¯s silver eyes fixed on the symbols. Where they there before? Curling over the glass...


    The monks all stared at him. Some of them had hopeful eyes and seemed eager to go. Others watched with suspicion, blades at their hips. One of monks stepped forward, a ragged head of grey strands and pockmarked sun-scorched skin.


    ¡®Sapphire merchant. Have you come to offer us our salvation at the price of our hosts?¡¯


    ¡®Exact.¡¯ Sapphire replied.


    The monk glanced at Deccard with a sad expression, then back to Sapphire. ¡®We have deliberated on this long ago, we will accept. But on one condition¡­¡¯


    Sapphire crossed his arms. ¡®Tell me.¡¯


    ¡®Say your name.¡¯


    Sapphire was taken by surprise. ¡®My name? Why my name?¡¯


    ¡®Say your name to us because we wish to know your name. We do not trust the word of a nameless merchant.¡¯


    Sapphire hesitated. The onlooking chieftain placed his strong hand on his small shoulder and leaned over. ¡®You want to negotiate for the tall mistress or not? What is your problem little tradesman?¡¯


    Sapphire¡¯s face hardened and his thin eyebrows frowned. ¡®The script on the glass, what language is it? I have seen many peoples and nations. I do not recognize it and I am surprised.¡¯


    ¡®I am also surprised-¡¯ The leading monk replied. ¡®That you can see it at all. Of that language you will not learn in this place, down here in the dark. Especially not in these circumstances. It is spoken in another realm. If you want to learn it you go there.¡¯Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡®Where can I find this realm?¡¯


    ¡®Do you still see the symbols?¡¯ The monk asked and Sapphire looked back at the fire, now seeing only glowing glass.


    The monk shook his head. ¡®I will speak no further of this. Now your name, merchant. Your true name.¡¯ Old fingers with surprising soft skin touched Sapphire¡¯s hand. ¡®It is a wise thing to protect your name against the world. Protect it against misuse, against lies and sorcery. But no oaths can be made this way.¡¯


    ¡®Dan Sarpa.¡¯ The merchant stated reluctantly. ¡®There are few who ever knew my name, and even less are still alive...¡¯


    ¡®Dan-Sarpa.¡¯ The monk repeated. ¡®So you are not of the Riverlands. Not from Uruk, which was suspected at first. Youre from an entirely different clan. Very well, your name rings true, the terms we accept.¡¯ The old monk turned to the chieftain. ¡®We will pray for you, Deccard.¡¯


    Sapphire coughed and shook his head. ¡®I cannot negotiate in the name of Divine Semiramis with people I have to call monk or old man. The exchange of names, even if they are of unequal worth, has to be completed. Tell me who you are. Tell me of the fire you hold so esteemed.¡¯ Sapphire felt exposed, naked now they knew his name. The urge to deliver venom increased, the serpent seeking to strike. The leading monk smiled as he crossed Sarpa¡¯s poisonous gaze, a few teeth missing between his old disarming lips.


    ¡®I am the Kannadan. Born as Doliath, hailing from the hills of the feasting Anakim.¡¯


    The old Kannadan gestured to the glowing flames. ¡®This is a very old fire, and the last of its kind not yet extinguished. It once burned safely in the candle monastery, whose main tower shined far across a dark desert. It is from that monastery we have recently fled. We had built it deep in the sands, very deep. It stood at the heart of the desert; wherein lived storms of the sands, birthed and came to die. A reddish hue hung in the sky always, permanent clouds of sand that turned day to night at worst, and muddled the sun¡¯s bountiful light to gloom at best. Dawn came late, dusk came early, and the night¡¯s stars and moon were dimmed likewise. We served what little traveler came across our candle, admitted them within our house of brightness. We watered them, gave them room; all but the true hopeless were welcome, though I always say there is no such man that is without hope.¡¯


    The Kannadan stared intently at Dan Sarpa. ¡®Even a shard of a soul is worth saving, my old teacher always told me - may his spirit be unburdened by this plane - And I tend to agree with his words. In our lone monastery we were able to sustain the fires of truth for many years. And over time we even became known by grateful merchants who never expected such a place to exist in the deep of the sands. Here, and in other places, within this endless dry land, we were not scoured by the rulers and principalities of the world. We found the harsh desert to be an oasis where the garden of purity could prosper. And then it changed, like the passing of a season, a gradual change in the great sands that reached even our shrouded existence. The wind warned me, and I warned the other vestiges of the order. It seems now my warnings have been in vain, for all of their fires have been lost¡­¡¯


    The Kannadan¡¯s face became sad as he recalled his memories.


    ¡®Possessed men, vicious men of the desert. We had heard of them long before we- ourselves- became target of their hunts. Tales were spoken by traders and nomads of sudden attacks. Murderous episodes in an empty landscape. The caravaneers came less and less, and the nomadic tribes of men who had taken well to our teachings - They talked of their encounters, urged us to leave. But we were disinclined to abandon that region. Those dry hills and dunes had finally encountered our light after an eternity of darkness, I would not have them lose it again. Even if there were only scorpions, even if only rocks, it was worth illuminating! Call it stubbornness, call it foolishness, and I say you are right.¡¯ He shook his head. ¡®We saw them a moon after the last visiting caravan had departed. Bestial men, wearing the rags of their previous occupations; their past lives. We tried speaking with them, but were only replied with a singular determination for destruction. They were the men that now stand up there, at the edge of the canyon, with their lying banners of doves. Men that have lost control over their own bodies, broken minds, or no minds at all. They came in the darkest of nights. Small packs, clambering onto the walls of our monastery. Unfortunately our order had long ago learned of the necessity to fight. We defended ourselves and turned to the fire to pray. From our walls we saw their skulking forms in the half-dark, and our thoughts were with our brothers at other places. We wanted to help them, spoke into the flames to pass on our words. Little did we know the others were already dead. Crucified, mangled, esteemed flesh picked from their bones by the vultures and the hags.'' The Kannadan sighed, then reluctantly continued. ''When the situation became too pressing we decided to abandon our monastery, departing at dawn with our inner-most holies of holies: the eternal fire, the work of ages. A scourging journey, hastily conducted, encountering only a few tortured corpses beset by black beetles, impaled on jagged stone or crammed into crevices of the wind-swept rocks. Some were our brothers, others we did not know. We had left the beacon of the monastery burning; the candle on the tower, but on the third night we saw it become extinguished, a faint glimmer on the horizon succumbing to the night¡­¡¯


    The Kannadan shook his head. ¡®I speak too much. A new face attracts many words, but I know you are not one of ours.¡¯ His tone hardened. ¡®You now know my name and I know yours, Dan Sarpa. We are ready to leave.¡¯


    The old man held out his hand and another monk handed over a spear. He tapped the weapon on the rock floor and the rest lined up. Twelve monks, grey and white hair, moustaches and long beards. Their eyes showed them to carry heavy burden, their ragged robes revealed long knives and other weapons.


    Sapphire nodded, holding out his hand towards the exit. ¡®Then you can leave.¡¯


    ¡®I wish you well, merchant-man Dan Sarpa. Perhaps one day you will realize the errors of your ways. That being you follow is not one of love, although you give your love to her.¡¯


    Dan Sarpa¡¯s mouth became a thin strip. Perhaps one day you will worship the Divine. ¡®You have free passage.¡¯


    ***


    A slow and simple drum beat sounded over the landscape. Amassed rows of armed serviles parted their lines before the crevice. From the deep canyon Sapphire merged, rubbing his hands contently. Semiramis¡¯ black eyes took it all in, her breathing slow and steady.


    Behind the merchant she saw the white fire-worshippers emerge, a pitiful group of old men huddled around their fire. They carried it on two wooden poles. Within the protective cover of gold and glass panels, the fire within snapped and sparked. It seemed the flames grew brighter in intensity as they neared her, and she grimaced with unease. Her breathing quickened. The sand under her feet became hotter, the little pebbles and rocks sharper. Her eyes pained and she was forced to look away. Her serviles turned their heads to her as the old men passed, but she did not give the order to hunt. The law of a Divine must be worth ... something.


    Towering high behind her men Semiramis stood, choosing to ignore the departing monks and fixing her stare on her prize; A long line of men, women and children had started to emerge from the canyon. Gaunt unwashed faces, ribs showing. The entire tribe was climbing up.


    Her dark haired ashen faced servants barked at them, placing knives at their necks and forcing them to line up before the chasm on their knees. Sixty men, including their white bearded leader who now stared at the ground with sadness. Fifty women, and thirty children of various ages. Finally forced out of their narrow cave-sides, this tribe looked weak and vulnerable. They no longer were in the position to negotiate; to ask, demand or resist; they were delivered unto Semiramis.


    Multiple fires were prepared and brands heated by the serviles. The servants of Semiramis set to work immediately, the sounds of searing flesh and tormented screams echoing over the chasm as they mercilessly put the hot metal on skin. They worked fast and efficiently until the entire tribe was marked into enslavement to the tall divine.


    Semiramis took her time as she inspected teeth, felt their muscles, estimated their age. She assayed them like cattle and picked thirty of the freshly branded men, including the chieftain. Serviles bound them with rope and led them away from their families. Those that remained were silent, clutching the searing burn marks on their skin, looking at their feet or glancing back at the canyon; longing back to the hopeless safety they had.


    Semiramis raised her chin and spread wide her arms and hands.


    ¡®Well, are you going to worship your new Goddess or not?¡¯


    The armed serviles sank to one knee and their rough voices started a low hum.


    ¡®-Pray, damn you, I won''t ask again.¡¯ She spat, and the desert folk stumbled forward and threw themselves at her feet, uncertain reluctant prayers coming out. Shy voices, unsure how to worship. ¡®Say my name and bless my name; SEMIRAMIS!¡¯


    She reveled in their desperation and let them worship until she grew bored with them. Dusk came with approaching shadows, and her mouth opened over their weak prayer.


    ¡®Your chief was a noble man. He sacrificed his will for you. My words are law in this world. What I have promised will not be broken. Mothers, I see your children are thin and hungry. Will you be grateful if I provide them food?¡¯ She smiled as the frightened eyes turned to craving. ¡®Give them bread and water.¡¯ She commanded her serviles. ¡®They are ours now.¡¯


    ***


    The night sky was cold and clear with stars. Within her tent Semiramis sat on a tall wooden throne. Her hand rested on Karkid¡¯s curls, who sat on the pillows besides her. Semiramis poured full her goblet with red wine, vaguely realizing she had lost count of how many times she had it emptied already. A pair of empty amphora lay under her seat, and a third was opened.


    Her mind was pleasantly numbing. I am larger, she told herself. Larger than the others, so she needed more. As she tasted the comforting heavy taste of the wine, she thanked whatever caravan had brought it along before her serviles had overcome it. May many more traders pass through my realm of hot rocks and scorpions. While one hand held the drink, the other raised a small mirror to herself. Vanity. Her pale face had become flush. She saw the youthful dimples in her cheeks, decades too young.


    ¡®Brush my hair.¡¯ Semiramis commanded with a slight lisp. Karkid quickly took position behind her, now almost the same height as her seated mistress. She straightened her mistress¡¯ long auburn hair with a comb. Semiramis watched her in the reflection of the mirror, lingering over the slave-woman¡¯s large eyes, focused lips and desert-tanned skin. And that hair, that marvelous thick curling hair. Across the room Deccard and his men sat, eyes staring out into oblivion.


    ¡®Would you like some wine, Deccard?¡¯ She chuckled and sipped anew. ¡®With your resistance broken the way is open to subjugating the rest of this miserable dry piece of earth. I send you out to those tribes that have not bowed yet. Show your face, tell them who you now serve. Tell them they must come out of their own accord, or¡­¡¯ She drank, swishing the liquid over her tongue in delight. ¡®Or lose their minds like you.¡¯ She laughed daringly, taunting the husk of the man who so long had defied her. She saw the muscles in his weathered face tense and release, visible just a tiny split of time and likely unnoticed by a less attentive onlooker. She wondered if some part of Deccard was still in there; fighting.


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ He replied. ¡®Come out of your own accord to the Divine Mistress Semiramis or lose your mind like me.¡¯ His voice was hollow and devoid of emotion.


    ¡®Very well, you know what to do. Go and do not stop until you have completed your task.¡¯


    Servile-Deccard bowed and left, followed by his former men. They ran out of the grand pavilion and sprinted off into the darkness.


    Back in the tent Semiramis had finished her third amphora, several liters of wine now coursing through her veins. She peered back at Karkid, who slowly brushed her dark-red hair with automative movements.


    ¡®Say, Karkid, come. Here.¡¯ She reached back to touch Karkid¡¯s neck and turned her head, bringing her lips to that of her slave attendant. A warm and wet embrace of mouths, one drunk and increasingly needy, the other sober and frightened.


    When their kiss had ended Semiramis spoke to the slave of the exalted priestess. ¡®Today was a good day, was it not?¡¯


    ¡®Yes mistress, it was.¡¯ Karkid replied and Semiramis¡¯ upper lip raised to one corner. The hand she held around her slave¡¯s neck pulled Karkid closer. ¡®Get down on your knees before me.¡¯ She demanded with a hoarse voice. Karkid put away the comb and placed herself before her mistress.


    Semiramis¡¯ hands caressed Karkid¡¯s hair as she was guided to her mistress¡¯ thighs. Semiramis opened her legs and her slave knew what was expected of her. Soon the Tall mistress was sighing and moaning, and the knees clasped around her servant''s head in excruciating delight. After a while Semiramis pushed herself back from Karkid¡¯s tongue.


    Large eyes looked up to her and Semiramis smiled. ¡®Oh Karkid, you have been great in your aid to me, despite your... history. You lack power, luxury, but I think you deserve more than the sweat and suffering you now wear. If you need servants of our own, new cloths, jewelry or men, whatever your heart''s desire, you only need to take it. My blessing to you, Karkid. You should know that long lasting servitude to me is rewarded in the end. Obedience nessecitates cruelty; softness buys a quick death and a shallow grave in this unforgiving desert. And yes I have been cruel to you Karkid, but perhaps it is time I am more lenient with you. You could be reinstated as mistress... You will be a noble-woman, a ruler of people, only overshadowed by my own tall form. Tell me, do you want power? I can provide it to you.''


    ¡®Yes, mistress.¡¯ Karkid replied, and Semiramis knew she spoke truth. ¡®Very well, I¡¯ll grant you that.¡¯


    Her hand roughly pulled back Karkid by her hair, and the mistress¡¯ back arched against her seat as the servant resumed her duties.

 Chapter Twenty Nine - Enemies of Uruk

    <h1>Twenty nine - Enemies of URUK </h1>


    They say that the great river never stop flowing except when it nears Uruk. There it swirls and turns, daring even to halt. Looking up from the surface it sees the splendid towers and domes rising over the walls, it hears the music dance over its waters, and then happily notices that there is an entrance for the river too. Enticed by the best pleasures of the world they enter the canals to spy upwards to what reflects on their nightly surfaces. Under the sign of the evening star they spend the night and under the sign of the dawn star their journey is continued.


    Soon the river loses sight of the grand city and a desolate land of stripped opportunities remains. The river stays not long in these outstretched barren lion-gardens. Compared with the magnificent opulence of Uruk, the dust and long lost trees are far too sad for the river. It should be said that rivers do not like sadness, they are given too much sadness already and like to avoid it. So the currents accelerate, the waters flows faster until they see again something that reminds them of their time at Uruk. They have reached Eneduanna-to-the-South, the edge of Uruk¡¯s territory. A figure of the HIgh-Priestess stands there, tall and painted identical. She watches to the south. This figurine is the object of veneration of passing travelers, so the river also venerates. It cannot give sacrifice like the other travelers do, so instead the water makes a small prayer in her name. The river splits here, and the waters want to go into neither passages, because to the right lie the swamps of Eridu and to the left the Kingdom of Ur and neither of those cities are called Uruk.


    In Eridu¡¯s waters live many carps, and its people are kind to the river, but the currents are muddy and stale.


    In Ur¡¯s waters, at the bottom of the river, lie wrecked ships and lost cargoes, as the people of Ur are traders. The river finds in those sunken holds unopened amphora of wine and talents of silver. The river drinks the wine and disregards the coins, and both streams eventually lead into the great ocean.


    Forced along the currents and hurled into the sea, the waters prayed that Eneduanna could one day reflect on their surfaces again. Older, calmer waters of the deep tell the troubled waters to be silent. They had followed the same course in their youth, when there had been no Uruk and when there had been no Eneduanna...


    ***


    Cheers rose up in the sky as the statue of the High-Priestess was pulled to the ground. Eneduanna-to-the-south had fallen, and no response came from Uruk.


    A horde of warriors surrounded the toppled idol. Their feet shuffled in the dry soil of Uruk and their weapons were raised in celebration. They came from many different towns and cities, serving under different crowns, their skins ranging from light to dark. What bound them was their universal fear of the red city, a fear that gradually abated. Confident in their numbers, self proclaimed champions strode around the fallen statue and openly mocked the Goddess of Uruk. Drink was passed, song was played. The soldiers crowded around and spat and pissed upon the image of Eneduanna. Seeing no judgement come upon them, drunken soldiers turned their minds to destruction. The idol was struck with clubs and curses until it shattered.


    The great host continued, marching through the barren lands of Uruk, eying the red city in the distance. Their backs burned from the sun and dust circled up from their many feet. But on the horizon were clouds and shadow, and they saw the dark storm that hung over their destination.


    ***


    Kitun barged towards the gate of the inner-city dressed in long black and gold robes, golden crown on his head, beard curling strong. A force of warriors around him, shields held close, bronze spearheads flashing in weak grey light from above. Rain softly trickled on their conical helmets which made them drip from the rims.


    ¡®Damned rain.¡¯ Kitun mumbled as he wiped droplets form his eyelashes. ¡®-Never this much rain in autumn. The world is changing.¡¯


    His warriors did not reply; that was not their job. Instead they held their weapons at the ready and pushed the commoners out of the way.


    The streets and canals leading to the inner-city were crowded and filled to the brim, every inch of dry land covered with filthy feet, packed so tightly that not even the rats could get through. The canals around Eneduanna¡¯s walled gardens had filled likewise with a navy of boats. Lanterns illuminated the azure walls of the Inner city, hoping for a glimpse of their Revered one, but Eneduanna would not show.


    Kitun understood their concerns. Uruk¡¯s markets stood empty, the traders had stopped coming. Their grain and animals were absent, and famine ravaged the red city. Worse, news of great armies marching upon Uruk from the south. Rumors of great forces sighted to the north. Enemies were coming in from everywhere, but his men would not dare face them. They refused to leave the city without Eneduanna¡¯s blessing, they begged him not to war without the High-Priestess consent. It wouldn''t be long until the invader would be at their gates. All their enemies, all the hunted tribes and clans and peoples that had feared the Revered one now crawled out of their hiding and marched upon them. Led by the royal banner of Ur, strenghtened by the ancient banner of Eridu, supported by the proud banner of Isin. And where was the Revered one? This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Kitun forced himself down the central causeway over the water towards the temple, intent to gain answers. He barged through the crowds without slowing. His armoured guard shoved the commoners out of the way and a fountain of men and women splashed into the canals in parallel to the approaching King. The rain increased and it seeped into the King¡¯s robes. Nearing the gates, Kitun pushed the last praying devoted way with an angry scowl.


    ¡®Open!¡¯ His deep voice demanded. The rags-folk looked at him with renewed hope and increased anxiety; Even the King was here to ask for Eneduanna.


    Kitun resisted the urge to smash his large fist on the gate. That would be irreverent, he thought, wiping back his wet black hair.


    ¡®Open!¡¯ He commanded again. The rain spattering in his face only increased his irritation. From above priestesses looked at him, red hoods over their long hair. The women had hard faces and held bows in their hands.


    ¡®Enemies prowl the barren lands around the city. No men shall be admitted into Eneduanna¡¯s garden.¡¯


    ¡®I am King.¡¯ Kitun replied. ¡®I need to see her. We all are desperate to know. If I can only assure them -¡¯ He gestured at the mewling masses clutching at the steep azure walls from their boats. ¡®-things will be better.¡¯


    ¡®The council of priestesses has decided. The Revered one¡¯s safety is paramount. You cannot disturb her.¡¯


    ¡®Uruk needs guidance. If¡­¡¯ He halted, tired of calling upwards like a commoner. His face darkened. ¡®Open the damned gate, or I will have my men batter it down. They will do anything to serve and protect their Goddess, and there is a lot of uncertainty in their hearts. A dangerous thing in the mind of a man!¡¯


    Multiple strings croaked as they were pulled back, pointing arrows at the King. The eyes of the priestesses were cold and threatening. They cared not for his title nor his crown.


    Kitun spread out his arms, unafraid and feeling a vein at the side of his head readily pulsing with anger. Behind him his guards raised their shields.


    Another voice came from above. Calmer, softer, feather light and pure. Heabani urged the priestesses to lower their bows.


    ¡®By decree of the eunuch of the most holy, allow the King to enter.¡¯ Heabani¡¯s plucked eyebrows angled down. ¡®No weapons. No guards. And come swiftly, lest you take the entire city with you.¡¯ Heabani cast a worried glance at the masses of unwashed wet humans stretching out in all possible directions.


    Kitun entered quickly. Behind him the gates¡¯ bronze intricate mechanisms fell shut, cutting off the desperate pleas and prayers.


    ¡®Come with me, King.¡¯ Heabani said, and Kitun followed the little eunuch into the garden.


    ¡®I had thought myself to be chief, strongest of men, strongest of Uruk. Still I was standing there at the gates begging like any other commoner. But with one word of your bird-like voice the bows of even those dry harlots lowered. When exactly did you become the most powerful man in Uruk?¡¯ Kitun shook his head in disbelief.


    ¡®Firstly, I am not a man.¡¯ Heabani noted with raised finger. ¡®Not anymore at least. Perhaps therein lies my secret. But I dont see myself as a powerful one. Rather like a mule carrying heavy load for the Revered one. I''m an active tool, nothing more. Talking about power whilst she walks the earth with us is a pointless exercise.¡¯


    They entered the vast gardens of the inner city, and during the few times Kitun had been admitted inside he had enjoyed the sights of it. But now it was a dark place, paths disfigured by possessive overnourished roots, walkways a labyrinth, and thorns and branches pulling at the passing King. A lone black kettle stood on a field, slowly filling up in the dreary rain.


    ¡®Can you stop weeping?¡¯ The King asked the sky. ¡®Youre not making things better. Your tears make our swords brittle and our banners sag.¡¯ An audible ripple in the clouds, a stir in the dark grey mass, and the rain increased in intensity.


    Drenched and dripping they came at the doors of the Temple. At its entrance fallen rose petals accumulated in ponds, the delicate and sweet scent of red and white roses mixing with the decay of rot.


    ¡®My commanders have come to me in tears, crying at my feet as they begged me not to send them out against the invader. They think certain death awaits if they go without seeing the Revered one. Heabani, speak to me truthfully: Why is Eneduanna hidden away?¡¯


    ¡®You will see for yourself. Now silence, not a word.¡¯


    They entered the temple where only rain from outside was audible in the cold halls, patting down on the glass dome above; casting the images of flowing water on the floor. Priestesses watched from the galleries.


    ***


    Eneduanna¡¯s chamber was bright with candles, and a lake of molten and coagulated wax surrounded the High-priestess¡¯ large bed. There she lay, like a statue fitting for a temple, motionless and eyes closed.


    ¡®What''s wrong with her?¡¯ The King whispered uneasily.


    ¡®She is in ritual. Her soul is elsewhere.¡¯


    ¡®She has been sleeping for all this time?¡¯


    Heabani nodded and the black-beard frowned. ¡®So when will she awake?¡¯


    ¡®We dont know, she does not respond to our efforts. We can only pray. Now you have seen. A glance you were allowed, now you must go. This is not the domain of Kings. Tell your men to be ready. Goddess willing she will awake soon.¡¯


    Kitun cast a final glance at the High-Priestess. ¡®The gates are sealed. Our enemies have come from far and wide, frightened by the glory of our blessed mistress and the fate of Larsa. A host of cowardly Kings and rulers, marching into the land they never dared to cross in the past. All the roads have been cut, trade has halted. In one week this city will be starving. Goddess willing indeed, the High-priestess raises from her slumber.¡¯


    The two left the sleeping Eneduanna. In her chamber of solitude, an unattended tear seeped out of the corner of her closed left eye.

 Chapter Thirty - Submission of Sand

    <h1>Thirty - Submission of sand </h1>


    Semiramis stood amongst the dark rocks of the plateau. Around her were her followers, some bound in body and mind in servitude, others simply branded and fearful, trying their best not to agitate their new mistress. She paid them with bread and water, and in return, she demanded to be pleased and venerated. To the west the land descended rapidly, rocky pathways descending in orange-red sands. Another sea of dry sand and sun, a land of death for all but the most wary and skillful.


    Her black eyes watched to what the desert spitted out for her. Something was coming towards her. A host of man. White robes, faces covered. They crossed over the dunes, they emerged from deep valleys of sand. Their numbers grew, they were armed. The last tribes of the desert.


    She called upon advice and at her sides came Karkid and Dan Sarpa. They watched alongside her, and in their wake came the armed serviles, silently fitting weapons and stringing their bows.


    ''Raise my banner.'' Semiramis stated. ''-So they can see amongst the rocks to where they must climb.''


    ''Are they... compliant?'' The merchant asked.


    ''I dont know.'' Semiramis replied. ''But I will prepare the furnaces and the brands nonetheless. Im sending you to them ofcourse, Dan Sarpa. You are my master negotiator.''


    The merchant nodded, casting a quick longing glance up at her face before returning his gaze to the approaching dunefolk down below. A thousand? Perhaps more, women and children and animals and half-animals combined.


    ''What then are your demands, and what do you offer, my Grand mistress?''


    ''I demand complete servitude and I offer them their minds to keep and the path to Paradise.''


    Dan Sarpa swallowed. ''Very well. I will prepare my camel and meet them at the base of hills.''


    Semiramis smiled assuringly. ''If they are so unwise to harm you, your death will be avenged with the gravest of cruelty.''


    ''Thank you, mistress.''


    ''And you Karkid....'' Semiramis placed her hand on her servant''s shoulder., fingers playing with Karkid''s long helixical curls. ''-Take the serviles, hide in the rocksides, prepare to massacre the desertfolk. You see smoke rise you commence the bloodshed.''


    ''You think them enemies?''


    ''I dont know Karkid, but we cannot afford unwanted surprises, can we? I will collect the serviles, and with one sentence the ability to command is given to you. Eternally they will toil for you, fight, murder, collect, serve. All my might will become available to you, Karkid, because you are a loyal servant.'' She squeezed karkid''s shoulder. ''And if you decide to flee the serviles have been commanded to murder you.'' She whispered in Karkid''s ear. ''Now go.''


    ***


    Dan Sarpa descended the black rocksides with Medif''s reigns in his hands. Steep paths, more fit for jumping mountain goat than man and camel, but he found a way down. Above him he saw Semiramis'' banners, red doves on white fabric. A hint of auburn hair.


    His mouth was dry as he continued, exchanging rock for sand. He mounted Medif and cantered forward over the dunes. he saw the tribesmen. They saw him. He closed in and he noticed small groups at his flanks. Bows and spears, warriors half-burried in the sand, faces covered and staring at him from all directions.


    ''Hail Semiramis.'' Dan Sarpa proclaimed with all the conviction he could muster. ''Tall mistress of the endless desert - Red Dove of Divine blood.''


    The tribesmen continued, closing in until he could smell their unwashed bodies. They silently surrounded him. Dan Sarpa glanced back to the safety of the rocksides but there was no movement, no aid.


    ''Have you come to surrender? Semiramis offers you the safety of your minds, the safety of your families. In exchange you will take the brand and serve.''


    The tribesmen said nothing. Their numbers increased, flocking around him in their light robes. in their wake came women and children and herds of animal.


    ''Where is Deccard, chieftain of the canyon?!'' Dan Sarpa demanded the mute tribesfolk.


    ''Here he is...'' A voice came from the masses. A face-covering lowered to reveal a hook-nosed man, a tanned thin-slender face criss-crossed with scars. ''My brother I have welcomed to my tent, I offered him warm food and good drink. He said only the same lines, cursed words imprinted by the tall woman. He is here, with me, he has not left me since.''


    Dan Sarpa nodded, calming. ''Deccard step forward in the name of Semiramis.''


    The grizzled, white-haired chieftain pushed past the tribesman. His empty eyes looked at the merchant.


    ''Then have you come to surrender, have you listened well to his words?''


    ''We have.'' The hook-nosed man conceded. ''My tribe comes to obey, hoping for peaceful transition into the tall one''s holdings. And the tribe of the purple oasis, and the tribe of the herding bard. The desert is now an empty place. Tell me, man-on-the-camel, will we be offered water like the customs of the sands demand, or will be marching into anight without end?''


    ''You will get water, and then you take the brand.'' Dan Sarpa replied, raising his robe and showing the white lines of Semiramis'' name on his chest.He pulled on Medif''s reigns and turned back to the rocksides.


    ****


    Semiramis the Grand. Semiramis the beautiful. Semiramis the Terrifying. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Three men were on their knees before her, each wearing distinctive clothes and jewelry. Red, blue and white. Chiefs of three tribes, under silent supervision of ashen faced Deccard they delivered themselves unto Semiramis.


    The tall Divine silently heard their praise and apologies, and was unimpressed as she watched them squirm at her feet. She listened to the faint changes in their tones, slight changes in vibration, as the chieftains sought to find the best way to please her. Semiramis¡¯ ears twitched as she identified the level of fear within the men. And it was very present; palpable. The air around them flowed in angst. Nervous sweaty men, eyes cast at her toes. And -, she smiled, turning her head slightly - there it was: their voices also carrying devotion, awed by her presence.


    Deccard stood nearby with dead eyes, not giving any hint of recognition when one of the other chieftains occasionally glanced at him. They had undoubtedly met many times, these desert-fok; lords of the sand no longer. The rigid appearance of Deccard at their various houses had caused the other chieftains to cower and follow swiftly the hollow words that Deccard spoke. That now living-statue, once proud and stubborn aged veteran of the sands whom had commanded the near-untakeable chasm of the dunes, he had given up, and so must they.


    Behind the three cowering men, groups of nomads climbed onto the plateau. Their number greater than the host Semiramis previously possessed, both in men and animals. They occupied the valley between the rocky mounts, and some even had pitched their tents atop higher edges and cliffs of the surrounding hills.


    Come to serve, Semiramis noted contently, hearing the fearful prayer of the leaders that had dared to resist her demands all these moons. Now they had chosen to bow. Undoubtedly there were a few clans hidden amongst the scorchlands, but news spread surprisingly fast in the desert. Quickly now she expected more to come and pledge. Something resembling an army was forming, the tedious work of sifting the sands coming to a close. Soon she would be able to march upon Uruk itself. Home.


    She placed a bare feet on one of the chieftain¡¯s backs, hearing him gasp in that essential mixture of terrified pleasure. Cattle to brand.


    She sent away the chieftains and Sapphire came to her presence shortly after. The small-framed Dan Sarpa walked to her with a shining smile of a full set of white teeth; a rarity in this region.


    He wore new clothes: Deep Red and black, patterned with an array of white lotus flowers with a hint of scarlet in their hearts. The previous owner of the robe had been an Urukian caravaneer, as evident by the quality and colouring of the patterns. Sapphire¡¯s new robe draped over an soft-coloured orange pants whose narrow pipes led to a pair of upward curling pointy shoes.


    Semiramis granted Sapphire her attention. ¡®I see you have taken a liking to my present.¡¯


    Sapphire gripped his cloth, let fingers slide over the fabric, and bowed his head. ¡®Good quality, mistress. Very fine indeed. And what a blessed day it is that I can present myself in good clothing, instead of the dust-covered halfskin I arrived in. It makes me think not of these sands, instead of another place-¡¯ He hummed contently. ¡®-Of Uruk, my mistress.¡¯


    His words made her simultaneously feel joy and anger, resulting in a mixture of emotions that kept her expression hard and demanding. ¡®I have a task for you.¡¯


    ¡®Anything.¡¯ He sunk down before her, taking off his turban and showing his gingerly hair. She placed her hand on his cold scalp.


    ¡®Intelligent man, I need an intelligent man. A hunt must be commenced. The monks, they have had their time to get away. My word is law, I have given them exceptional mercy. I allowed them to leave the canyon, and so they did. Now find them. I did not give them an allowance to live indefinitely. End them.¡¯


    Sapphire thought back at the wizened old men he had encountered at the bottom of the canyon. Semiramis tall, slender figure leaned forward. ¡®Is this a problem for you, Dan Sarpa?¡¯ She repeated his name, tasted it with her tongue: ¡®Dan Sarpa - Dan Sarpa, what a fine name you carry.¡¯


    Sapphire¡¯s eyes started to roll back in ecstasy, the direct praise of his revered one bringing waves pleasure within his obsessed mind. ¡®Ofcourse. No. Of Course-not! Not a problem.¡¯


    Semiramis chuckled disarmingly as the merchant stammered with reddening face.


    ¡®You will kill those monks for me?¡¯ She tried her sweetest voice, and he crumbled, fell apart, averting his eyes from her magnificent sight.


    ¡®The Fire I will extinguish.¡¯ He spoke with a sound between groan and whisper. Semiramis shook her head unconvinced. ¡®Words are just words¡­¡¯


    ¡®It will be done, mistress.¡¯ Firmer now. Conviction, dedication - A true believer. She wondered with what joy and trembling neediness the merchant would squirm between her legs, if allowed to. The curious forced a mellow sneer on her face. Such a preposterous image, and her smile widened until her cheeks dimpled. ¡®Pick thirty three serviles. A holy mission from your Divine Mistress to exact her will. My slaves will follow your every command. Do not waste them.¡¯ She turned her gaze elsewhere, fixating it on the mountains in the distance. ¡®Now you can go.¡¯


    When he left she called for Karkid. The slave-woman approached with dark soot on her skin and ash on her face. Sweat glistened on her forehead and her curling hair stank of smoke.


    ¡®Has the branding been completed?¡¯ Semiramis asked.


    ¡®Not all my mistress, but it soon will be done.¡¯


    ¡®Hard work, isn¡¯t it?¡¯


    ¡®It is, mistress.¡¯


    ¡®You might wonder why I am so cruel¡­¡¯


    Semiramis grimaced and grabbed Karkid¡¯s hair ¡®Well?!¡¯ Semiramis demanded. ¡®-Do you wonder why?!¡¯


    ¡®Yes, mistress. I wonder.¡¯ Karkid replied hastily and Semiramis nodded, loosening the grip slightly. ¡®You told me you wished to rule again so these are the teachings I give to you. The weak are destroyed. And your body; I can see, is filled with weakness. Flesh-bag filled with urine and air and frightened blood. And your mind; also meek and vulnerable. My blessing to you is the extinction of your weakness. Your softness. Cut by cut, brand by brand. And I suggest you pay good attention. Failure is met with more punishment. Success is met with more punishment. Perhaps I chose wrongly. I don''t see the dedication in your eyes. Tell me Karkid, should I replace you with another servant?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ Karkid said with conviction. Semiramis finally let go of her hair with a sneer. ¡®Cruelty is the way of survival. Do you think I survived this barren desert with a good heart and pure conscience? I came here not even eight summers old. The mysteries of the priestesshood had barely been taught me. My caretakers were small in number and quick to die. I was hunted mercilessly by my elder sister, like an animal that had to be put down. Had I been just a sliver more merciful, had I just been a sliver less cruel, I would now be dead. Bones picked clean in the desert, forgotten forever. The world is a cruel place and mercy is unnatural. If you do not want to take from the world, you will be taken. Am I speaking riddles or am I clear, little scorpion?¡¯


    ¡®You are very clear.¡¯


    ¡®Well we¡¯ll see about that. Complete the branding, select the strongest, we will bind their minds tonight. An army is forming, dear Karkid. I hope it is enough to overtake my sister. I will bring you to Uruk Karkid, you will see the greatest city on earth, and together with me you will bathe in its luxuries.¡¯

 Chapter Thirty one - Rise, Raise; Eneduanna

    <h1>Chapter Thirty One - Rise, Raise; Eneduanna </h1>


    Heabani lustlessly leaned over the lapis-lazuli battlements of the inner-city. He held a pink canvas umbrella over his head, and an incessant circle-shower of drip-water surrounded the eunuch.


    Below the hungry masses stood, a near solid mass of starving devoted. They held up self-made images of Eneduanna and their whispers had turned to demanding screams for their Revered one.


    Men, women and children. Drenched in rain, bodies weakening with every passing moment. Some had already lost the strength to stand. Amongst the citizens stood formations of red men. Shields and spears and axes and blades, pointed conical helmets and dark beards. Murderers brought to desperation, carrying their banners and arms in service to their divine. Choirs of their baritone voices sang hymns to the Revered one.


    Heabani watched the people from the wall and felt saddened. Any man can lose hope, and Heabani¡¯s belief that things would be well again was rapidly dissipating. Sing then, he thought miserably. Sing you slaves, but bread will not fall from the sky. How long until even the rats would run out?


    Anger flashed over his eyes as he gazed upon the people, who raised their images yet another time. You. it is you that caused this. Unfaithful, undevoted city. Only when hunger strikes you beg for the divine. Fast then, fast and cleanse yourself. This city is unworthy of her presence, no wonder she has retreated into elsewhere.


    The eunuch sniffed.


    And those wretched warriors - those singing fools. Helpless, Completely helpless! Without her guidance they are nothing. Would they protect the temple when the invader would come, or would they then also stand by idly, and allow the Carps and the Ur-men to take and desecrate the Revered one¡¯s living body?


    Tears came to his eyes as he saw it all end in his mind. His lifelong servitude erased, pointless, the holy path blocked; her shining presence removed.


    A multitude of fists banged on the gates below.


    ¡®Begone!¡¯ Heabani yelled back to the swelching mass. ¡®She must not have you!¡¯ He cried, his painted skin washing away in streams of black kohl and white powder.


    But the people did not listen to the high-pitched eunuch atop the walls. More joined in, and they hammered their fists on the door of Eneduanna¡¯s garden. Around, the devoted on the boats came closer and reached to the walls, clambering against the slick stones with their nails. With sudden fright Heabani saw the red-robed warriors join in with the masses, strong voices starting to demand entry.


    Priestesses rushed up the walls, taking up position besides Heabani. Long hair in tails, wet scarlet cloth of their long dresses sticking to their skin. Their bows were aimed down, arrows pulled back. The broad shouldered Matron took point besides the eunuch. Heabani swallowed his panic and forced his expression to calmness. He disliked that vile woman and would not show weakness before her.


    ¡®Why are the servants riled?¡¯ Amalda demanded with an unfriendly bark.


    ¡®You can only put a kettle so long on the fire before it starts boiling.¡¯ Heabani replied.


    The Matron turned away, mouth curled up in disgust.


    ¡®Arrows on your bows sisters! Keep at bay the masses. The dumb mule has riled, put it back to sleep!¡¯ More priestesses ran up the stairs to the azure walls. A hundred scarlet dresses, old and young, with all the arrows, knives and spears they could muster. And in howling choirs they screeched down for the people to leave. But their banshee-noise had no effect, it was muted in the maddened screams and prayers of the masses.


    On the canals people with shining eyes held ladders. From the causeway a ram was carried forth by warriors under cheering audulations of the masses. The Matron pushed away Heabani from his overlooking position; the ledge where Eneduanna speaks to the city.


    ¡®Halt, and away!¡¯ She ordered. ¡®This city is for the Divine, not for thee!¡¯


    A tri fold of Eneduanna images was raised up to her; the only reply she was given.


    Amalda gave an angry nod at her sisters. The priestesses ejected their arrows. Thirty devoted died but more took their place. The warriors reached the gate and battered their ram against the bronze reinforced wood. ¡®¡¯Eneduanna¡¯¡¯ it was yelled. Eneduanna. Eneduanna.


    ***


    In the room of light, surrounded by candles and the priestesses of Inanna whom steadily continued the rites: tall Eneduanna, lying so calm and silent before; stirred.


    A twitch of a finger, unnoticed by the others. She was somewhere between the world of earth and the world of dreams. She felt light. Emptied. Cleared. Like a library whose scrolls had been burnt out in terrible inferno, and there was one scroll in the ashes, and it read: Eneduanna. And she remembered who she was. And there was a second scroll, and it read: Inanna. And she knew who she would become.


    She wanted to open her eyes, but her lids were heavy like lead. A storm of colours, and then they finally sprang open. She gasped for air that filled slumbering lungs, exchanging stale air of the tomb for breath of life.


    Eneduanna saw the high ceiling, the bright sea of light that surrounded her, the rush of priestesses reaching over her. Living faces.


    Her mouth opened without her apparent need:


    ¡®Bring. Me. My. Prince.¡¯ Her frail voice demanded.


    The jubilant faces of the priestesses turned cautious. ¡®Who, oh Revered one?¡¯


    ¡®The Hurrian.¡¯ Eneduanna sighed with want. She fell back into the pillows, not pulled back into the below, but simply weak and exhausted. Her body was slick with sweat, only slowly awaking from her long slumber. Him. She had returned to her world and she felt an emotion strange, a feeling no longer suppressed. And her heart, she felt, beat for two. Her hand moved to her lower body, touching the skin.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡®Where is my Prince?¡¯ She asked with demanding voice.


    ¡®Gone, Revered one.¡¯ A grey haired priestess carefully spoke.


    It took awhile for her mind before she understood the meaning of the words so preposterous. Gone, Revered one.


    ¡®What?¡¯ The High-Priestess exclaimed. Her mouth tightened as she awaited response, and she swallowed with difficulty.


    ¡®He departed the city, my mistress.¡¯


    ¡®Why did he depart the city? Did the Hurrian break his sacred bond?¡¯ A vein at her temple started pulsating.


    ¡®Heabani took him away. We think he sent him back to Aratta, but we have not yet found him. Sisters have been sent to track him.¡¯


    Eneduanna sighed deeply. ¡®You are speaking to the Divine embodiment of Inanna herself. Why must I work to extract truth from your mouths? I want an explanation, and I want it quick, or my wrath you will feel. Why has Heabani sent him away?¡¯


    It was silent for a moment, the priestesses looking at each other, averting Eneduanna¡¯s demanding gaze.


    ¡®The Dumuzid had to die, mistress.¡¯ A fat priestess confessed. ¡®The rites were unquestionable. For your return he needed to be exchanged.¡¯


    ¡®I released him.¡¯ Eneduanna said, confused.


    ¡®And we caught him back, to aid your ritual.¡¯ The priestess said with a hint of pride.


    ¡®I made him PRINCE!¡¯ Eneduanna thundered, and the defiant priestess shrunk away.


    ¡®He fought like a Lion, my mistress, he was wounded but did not fall. The Hurrian breathes.¡¯


    Eneduanna rose from the bed until her naked body towered over her attendants. The sweat evaporated from her skin.


    ¡®I gave no permission for such actions. Life and death are my decisions, not yours, who was it that gave the order?¡¯


    ¡®Matron Amalda, my mistress.¡¯


    ¡®Where is the hag now?¡¯


    ¡®Defending the inner-walls, the commoners are besieging your temple, my mistress.¡¯


    Eneduanna groaned. ¡®I have passed through the realms of the dead and upon my wake I am faced with this trivial, maddening chaos. This city needs to be set straight, order restored swiftly. Punishment is necessary. You all failed in my absence, out of my sight, and bring me Heabani. I wish to hear the truth and guidance from a good, loyal servant. And inform the damned masses I will make myself present swiftly, I can feel the blood spilling on the causeway and it is a waste.¡¯


    ***


    Heabani rushed through the gardens, gasping for air and tears flowing from his eyes. Eneduanna!


    She had risen, all despair was gone. Even the dreary rain had halted, the clouds opening up. Sun would return to anoint the Revered one.


    Her tall body appeared over the hedges and Heabani flung himself onto the path, water and mud on his face. ¡®Revered one!¡¯ He kissed the ground. ¡®Bless you, bless you, -¡¯


    ¡®Get up you old fool.¡¯ Eneduanna commanded. She was followed by a host of armed priestesses.


    ¡®-Where is my Hurrian?¡¯


    Heabani rose up, trying to keep his emotions under control. ¡®The Hurrian should be in Rapiqurn now, and will be going on further into the highlands until he reaches Aratta. I have sent him north my mistress, Uruk was not safe and I did not know when your blessed rule would return. For his own safety I''ve smuggled him away between the wine amphora and sheepskins. By the Heavens he will return swiftly, with a cadre of fresh Hurrian warriors at his back.¡¯


    Eneduanna shifted her attention from the eunuch towards the Inner-city gate, where her brass throne was carried through. From outside she could hear cheering and praying, though on the walls armed women still stood guard, arrows knocked on their bows.


    ¡®Quite a mess, isn''t it?¡¯ She asked Heabani.


    ¡®Worse than you think, blessed mistress¡­¡¯


    The throne was carried closer and Eneduanna seated herself. The men groaned and sweated and she was joyed. ¡®Tell me quickly, I need to placate my people and drink in their prayer.¡¯


    ¡®We have trespassers in your domain. A total invasion from the south and the north, and even stirrings at the edge of our Larsan territories. So far we have not been able to mount a counter-offensive, so I expect the first enemy forces at our gates within days. Trade has halted, there is very little food in the city, people are starving and frightened.¡¯


    ¡®A little war is no issue for the avatar of Inanna herself.¡¯


    ¡®Its Ur, Eridu, Isin, and a host of tiny clans and vulture mercenary corps that have banded together against your Divine Rule. They outnumber us, mistress.¡¯


    ¡®I will deal with them, fear not, precious servant. Your Goddess requires blood and they will provide it.¡¯


    She gestured at the carriers to move, but Heabani stepped closer. ¡®There is something else¡­¡¯


    ¡®What then?¡¯


    ¡®Your sister¡­¡¯


    ¡®What sister?¡¯ Eneduanna¡¯s almond eyes gained a fiery shine.


    ¡®The one called Semiramis has been sighted in the western sands. She yet lives, and it seems she is having designs on Uruk. A merchant called Dan Sarpa, better known as Sapphire, acted as an agent for her within Uruk. At least one murder has been comitted by him on a fellow trader. He escaped back into the desert and I have sent my best hunter after him.¡¯


    ¡®She should have stayed hidden in the sands. Now I must crush her, but first I will restore order in my domain. The people must know I have returned, and the world must know a Goddess walks these lands.¡¯


    She was carried away to the gates, and from the staircaseAmalda descended. Eneduanna saw her to be wet from rain, her arm bleeding from a minor cut, and holding a warbow. The Matron prostrated herself before her throne.


    ''most Revered one. I beg you for forgiveness.''


    ''You tried to murder one of my possesions.''


    ''I did, most Revered one. We were desperate...'' Amalda looked up, her orange eyes flickering with joy as she looked upon her mistress. ''but the Hurrian still lives, and you are returned. I was wrong, showing that I am but a feeble, weak mind in comparison to your infinite wisdom. I am unfit for leadership, if you want, I will lay down my matronhood, and if necessary, my life. May the Heavens bless you, Eneduanna.''


    Eneduanna silently judged Matron prostrated before her feet. ''Have the masses halted their assaults?'' SHe finally asked.


    Amalda looked up, surprised. ''We fought them off in bitter struggle. A few sisters were lost. The people were unrelenting, it shows that their faith is strong, and when misguided, their faith can be very dangerous. They only halted when I promised your arrival, and now they wait, outside the gates. The entire city will watch you emerge.''


    ''Out of my way then, Matron. If you displease me again I will execute your son.'' Amalda cralwed away and the carriers continued forward with the laborous weight of the throne on their shoulders. They passed through the battered gates and Eneduannawas greeted by maddened masses. The causeway had been hastily cleared by warriors, but blood and arrow riddled corpses still littered the ground. More dead floated in the surrounding waters. A ring of boats surrounded her, packed with people, and in the distance walls of devoted had lined up. All fell to their knees when they sighted the High-Priestess.The clouds opened and a warm ray of golden light illuminated her.


    Eneduanna. Eneduanna. Eneduanna, the masses started praying on the beat of a drum.


    ¡®Give me war!¡¯ she yelled in the face of frenzied prayer, rising from the hovering throne. ¡®I am your Goddess, and you will punish the disbelievers!¡¯


    Eneduanna. Eneduanna. Eneduanna.

 Chapter Thirty two - Divine Judgement

    Chapter Thirty Two - Divine Judgement


    Kitun swiftly made his way through the narrow alley. Exciting city folk and militia-men blocked the way, drinking and celebrating. They stood in the doorways, they leaned from their windows, they crawled mind-numbingly drunk through the filth. Eneduanna had returned to rule over them and one word was upon her lips: war. Now everyone seemed eager for war and bloodshed, every ill-fated beggar and youthling clutching old knives, clubs and stones.


    The King had no time to waste on them, and he marched through the puddles of spilled wine and the miasma of energized, burning sweat that hung throughout the city¡¯s narrow walkways. His loyal guard was at his back, their marching feet sounding against the brick walls. Fully armoured with captured Larsan equipment, covered in bronze, weapons sharp and ready. Rows of ears hung below great black curling beards. They had been cowards during the rainy weeks of Eneduanna¡¯s absence. Kitun had even faced difficulties getting them out of their garrison houses, leading to a chaotic period of hungry masses taking the streets, and ultimately, assaulting the inner-city itself. Now the warriors were hungry for blood, eager to wash away the shame and the stink of fear. A long line of bronze and red, following their King to a sacred war.


    Kitun noticed their impetuousness, their pent-up aggression, their open lust for killing so great that they stared with calculating, predatory eyes at the passing commoners - hastily pushed back into their doorways. Kitun breathed in deeply, feeling his heartbeat rise. He felt the same.


    They rounded the corner and there she was, hovering on her brass, winged throne, standing tall. The masses surrounded her, armed and in ecstacy. A bitter smoke lingered over the heads of the people, emanating from silver thuribles swung by priestesses making their way through the crowds. Kitun¡¯s nostrils flared upon smelling it and his judgement clouded. He and his men violently forced themselves through thecommoners until they could kneel before Eneduanna¡¯s throne.


    ¡®Lions¡­¡¯ she spoke. ¡®I have need for you. Are you ready to die?¡¯


    ¡®We will die whenever it pleases you, Most Revered one.¡¯ Kitun eagerly spoke. ¡®But give us a lake of blood to drown in, so we may ascend with you to the heavens when the time comes.¡¯


    Eneduanna nodded, she sat down in her seat and placed her long feet directly before the King¡¯s bowed head. ¡®You may worship my feet, Royal of Uruk. I have returned from Ritual and I have been purified, proven a worthy vessel for Inanna. The Queen of Heaven is me, and I am her, she speaks through my mouth, she sees through my eyes. Outside the walls the first enemies have been sighted, how joyed am I that I can be baptised in their blood. Am I not the Goddess of war?¡¯


    ¡®You are, Most Revered one. Will we carry your blessing into battle then? I, Kitun, and my men, my lions in the thousands, all loyal servants of your blessed light, desire a blessing before we enter the maw of war. Will you grant us our wish?¡¯


    ¡®Consider yourself blessed and anointed, Go and I will be looking. I see all. I can see at this very moment a plague of locusts coming from the south. But they will not be your target. Instead you will intercept the isines that approach from the north. They are frightened and wish to join forces with the southerners. You will cut them off with a thousand men, no more, and collect the Isines into my service. Strike the King and take his men. Have my orders been clear?¡¯


    ¡®Consider Isin itself your domain.¡¯ Kitun hesitated, wanting to say more, but opting for silence instead.


    ¡®Follow the animals, all living things in Uruk will have gathered around them, the lions, vultures, the ravens, the beetles and the worms, attracted by the promise of death. Their approach will be marked, but you will find them in the valley of the Lions.¡¯


    ***


    Drums sounded as Eneduanna¡¯s throne was carried out of the southern gates. Loud, fearless drums, reaching far over the barrens. Brick shacks of the shanties outside the walls were occupied by grimy people, falling on their knees at the side of the dusty road.


    A few Uruk scouts rode ahead on pale-grey horses, the beasts bucking at the reigns. Soon they sighted the southerner¡¯s host on the horizon, heralded by great dust-clouds.


    The throne halted, Eneduanna gazing past the far away riders and to the ominous red-orange plumes. Tiny soldiers, tiny banners, coming in silence, fearful hearts steeled in resolve. Strength in numbers.


    Matron Amalda stood at her side, the broad shouldered woman uncertain of her role.


    The Palm-leaf servants arrived, casting the High-Priestess in shade and cool air. Warriors, merchants, the entire city followed er out onto the barren plains.


    ¡®You might wonder why I have not killed you yet.¡¯ Eneduanan spoke, showing Amalda unworthy of her glance.


    ¡®If you wish for my life, I will give it.¡¯ Amalda replied.


    ¡®I wanted to take your head, but Inanna told me to keep you.¡¯


    ¡®Thank you for your mercy, Goddess.¡¯


    ¡®I want my Hurrian back Amalda, nobody gets away from me. I am the swamp that no man can escape from¡­¡¯ She sighed. ¡®While you still breathe you must at least make yourself useful to me. Prepare the people for combat. How many men can we muster?¡¯


    ¡®Five thousand, blessed mistress.¡¯ The Matron spoke with soothing voice. ¡®But not all are as capable as the lion-packs we usually employ. Many are cubs, or worse, simply very devoted fanatics caught up in the joy of your return. Their resolve may be fickle, despite our best attempts, and prove false when the first arrows start to fall. The southern forces are formidable. I have tracked their progress ever since theyemerged from the tall wet-land reeds. The southern Kings seem to have made a serious attempt at your life. They outnumber us, and they have better soldiers than us.¡¯


    ¡®But we have faith.¡¯


    ¡®Indeed, Revered one. We have faith.¡¯


    ¡®We will face them in open battle of course, it is unfitting for a Goddess to cower behind walls. If they have their way they march straight past us and merge with the Isines, killing the King in the process.¡¯


    ¡®You place a lot of faith in the King, my mistress.¡¯


    ¡®Shouldn¡¯t I?¡¯ Eneduanna turned a single almond eye to the Matron.


    ¡®He will provide, but we must make plans for if he does not.¡¯Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡®Are you a coward, dear servant? When battle first commences I expect you at the frontlines.¡¯


    ¡®I do not fear battle, most Revered one.¡¯


    ¡®Then prepare the masses for war. I''m sure we can squeeze out more than five thousand, my city is filled with useless mouths. People are the least of my concern, especially if their lives buy more time. Tomorrow we do battle, and the day after, and the day after. Then it will be over.¡¯


    ¡®Do you foresee victory then, Revered one? And do you foresee more? Who dies and who lives?¡¯


    Eneduanna thought in silence. Soft groans audible beneath her. ¡®You are dismissed.¡¯ She finally said.


    As the despised priestess moved away, and began barking raw orders at the nearby warriors, she felt her unease rise. A vision from Inanna; 3 days of bloodshed. But nothing beyond. A warning?


    ***


    ¡®Valley of the lions¡­¡¯ Twelve-toes said softly, the tall warrior turning towards his King. ¡®You think the High-Priestess meant it in a literal sense, or just in the vicinity?¡¯


    ¡®She said valley of the lions, so that¡¯s were they¡¯ll be.¡¯ Kitun looked out over the bleak, arid landscape. Dry red soil, dead roots, coarse warm winds from the desert. In the distance rocky outcrops of the hills to the north-west of Uruk, an area usually avoided by the warriors. Inside lay the valley of the lions, a whole region of Uruk offered up to the sacred beasts.


    How glad he was to serve. Shame swirled within him, the seeds of betrayal carriedi n his memories. The words of that treacherous Dan Sarpa kept him awake at night. Shame and guilt. He should have taken out that little merchant when he had the chance, right then and there. If only the High-Priestess would know what kind of venom was spoken against her in her own city.


    When he had kneeled before her throne, this early morning, he had almost confessed. Spilled the black treachery before her shining illumination. Wisely he had kept his mouth shut at the last moment. He would not live, that much the merchant had right. The unease gnawed at the back of his neck, like a parasite that he could not remove, slowly suckling in his shame and lies until it was a bloated sack on his skin, pumping poison into his veins in return. Thinking upon the matter only brought him to the same path; that of rage. Burning, sweltering rage that made his troubled heart white-hot with fury. Anger that brought comfortable forgetfulness, even if only temporary. He would douse himself in the blood of her enemies to try and wash himself clean. His pace increased and the man at his flanks followed. Old warrior friends, spaced out over the barren plains, each leader of their own hunting packs - all subservient to the King. They were with a thousand men but they traveled swiftly. They knew the land and they were laden lightly, only carrying the essentials. Eager for the hunt, many had even left their heavy armour behind.


    ¡®Just like old times, isn''t it my Lord?¡¯ Twelve-toes said at his side.


    Kitun nodded to his old hunting companion. They had shared many raids and battles, shared drink and women. The tall warrior at his side was beyond a loyal soldier also a friend, and there were many others like him. He could see their faces all around them. Twelve-toes, Birdcatcher, Kalam the taxer. Old names, old scars. They were his pillars, his brothers, some relations going back to the scarlet-run orphanages from which most hailed.


    ¡®Just like old times.¡¯ Kitun repeated, thinking back on the many men he had known over the years who were now dead. Lostduring slave-raids in Isin, taken by the Larsans, drowned in the southern reed-swamps. Mauled and eaten by lions, picked apart by birds - trapped in cages hanging from towns they had failed to take. His companions had been dragged to the halls of the dead by sickness, woundrot, by the hands of their fellow kin, some even put down by the sisterhood itself. Death was a certainty, and Kitun wondered when it was his turn. Thirty summers, how many were left? The men of old at his side reassured him; the warrior was not alone.


    As the march continued doubts faded, and the image of the trespassing Isines strenghtened with each step. Rows of enemy soldiers, coming to wage war against the Revered one. They must be punished.


    A flock of crows circled ahead over the hills on the backdrop of a setting sun. Red light reflected in Kitun¡¯s eyes.


    ***


    First Darkness was setting in when the scout returned. A young boy, breathing heavily, his naked hairless chest covered in sweat. He collapsed before Kitun¡¯s sandals. The light footed Uruk force hard worked itself up in the foothills of the dry highlands. During normal times they would have already been beset by predators, but now all animals were absent.


    Kitun dragged the exhausted boy from the dirt. ¡®Speak boy, is the enemy near?¡¯


    His dark eyes sparked. ¡®Over the hills¡­¡¯


    ¡®Isines?¡¯


    ¡®Soon you will hear ... their dogs bark.¡¯


    ¡®How many?¡¯


    ¡®Many my lord, more than us.¡¯


    ¡®Encamped in the valley of the lions?¡¯


    ¡®In the valley my lord.¡¯


    ¡®And did any of them see you?¡¯


    ¡®I kept clear my lord, and returned immediately to you. I ran.¡¯


    Kitun let go of the runner. ¡®Valley of the lions.¡¯ He stated to whoever stood nearby. ¡®The High-Priestess told us where to find the unbeliever. Now we have found them we must complete our task. Our commands are to behead the King of the Isines and force the remaining Isine warriors into submission. Eneduanna wants them as servants, not corpses.¡¯ He held out his hand. ¡®Bring my shield, my armour, my helmet, my weapon the morning star of Inanna. Bring me water and wine, and follow me up over the ridges.¡¯ A sharp grin was visible through his black beard. ¡®I''m excited. A hunt, a true hunt. Too long have we all been penned up in the city, with the weak and the women. Our purpose is out here, in the barren wild, to hunt. Beyond those hills are five thousand frightened Isines¡­¡¯


    Men crowded around him, faces and banners lighting up in torchlight. ¡®Who here has killed an Isine before?¡¯


    He was replied with a multinious roar. Kitun smiled. ¡®Do not boist so loud, Isines are easy. And douse your flames, we hunt in the dark. Remember the barren fields where we slaughtered the Larsans, the men we thought unbreakable, covered in their bronze and brightness of the sun. Remember the heat of that day, how you thirsted, struggled. And then the night came, brought down by the Revered one herself. The night is for slaughter, and tonight we must commit a massacre upon the Isines. We strike for the heart of their encampments, pulling them from their bedded nightmares. Our approach must be silent, careful, deliberate. We must get as close as possible before we attack. Dispose of their sentries, but when their guard-dogs bark I want to hear a war-cry the High-Priestess can hear back in Uruk! Be without fear, you are with brothers and you carry the blessing of the High-Priestess. Be without fear, you are lions amongst sheep. After this night, Isin will kiss your feet.¡¯


    When Kitun was done, his attendants strapped his heavy armour around his broad torso. They placed his bronze helmet atop his head. They gave his shield and weapon, and gave him wine and water to drink. Prepared for war, he gave up control over the anger whenever it came asking. As he climbed, he lost the ability to speak, his eyes became glassy and his nostrils flared. He was guided by his companions, who he could distinguish as friends only by their scent, and once at the top of his mouth was foaming. This was Inanna¡¯s true blessing, the form of the roaring bull bestowed upon him. In battle he was no man, and the man with all his doubts and troubles and fears and guilts were deposed, left at the side of the road and crushed under the hooves of the beast.


    Beneath him he now saw lights, and the King descended silently upon them with his men.


    ***


    The Isines had retreated deep into the valley, placing their tents close to each other, fearing the dark and what lurked within. They had crossed into the barren lands of Uruk and had quickly learned of their status as prey. Their scouts were harassed and dragged off, their unprotected baggage trains ambushed by packs of hungry lions. The sacred cats had long since learned of the taste of man, knew of the dangers of arrows and spears, so they stalked after the Isines, picking off the unwary and slow, and with each kill their number grew.


    One day¡¯s march from Uruk, in the valley of the lions, the five thousand strong Isine army sat huddled together. Their sentries were placed close to the encampment, none daring to occupy the heights surrounding them.


    The Urukian warriors crept up to them, stalking like the predator hunts the prey. Slowly, carefully, descending, until an Isine war-dog barked in the night. A dozen hounds joined in the warning, and a great cheer roared from the surrounding hills. The red men charged down screaming, weapons drawn. They jumped over the last rocks and boulders and streamed into the encampment.


    Startled Isine guards were smashed and cut down. A brazier was pushed over, igniting the tent besides it. Fire arrows rained down. Red men rushed through the half-dark between the flickering shadow of flames. They slaughtered those in their beds, stabbing through the fabric of collapsed tents. A path through the Isine camp was cleared of resistance, and through the smoke and flames came charging the Bull of Uruk, his bellow waking the last of the Isines and throwing chills down their spines.

 Chapter Thirty Three - Tracks in the Sand

    <h1>Chapter Thirty Three - Tracks in the Sand


    </h1>


    Sand and dust; this was Sapphire¡¯s world. An empty world of his own, which he now traversed with calm, murderous intent. Death had been demanded, death he would deliver.


    At Sapphire¡¯s flanks two rows of silent men; long hair, packed with heavy bags and drinking canteens, armed with bows, short throwing spears or long knives. They did not complain and did not seem to have any issues with the searing heat of the sun. Whilst their clothes and bodies deteriorated they kept their eyes on the horizon.


    Their silence dragged on Sapphire¡¯s nerves. Footsteps in the desert made his tongue eager to talk and his ears thirsty for words. But these were no fellow traders, no long-wayed travelers. These were Semiramis¡¯ serviles; Imprinted men sent out to extinguish lives.


    Medif occasionally made his unease known by muffled growls. The camel¡¯s large eyes distrustfully moved from one servile to the next. Intelligent as the old camel was, he had figured something was wrong with the silent men.


    ¡®Calm my friend.¡¯ Sapphire said soothingly. ¡®They won''t hurt you. Them and us are hunting entirely different prey.¡¯


    Medif continued through the soft sand, but Sapphire started to wonder if the serviles would turn on his camel once their food would run out. He imagined it would not be difficult for them to draw their knives and silently cut up the camel.


    ¡®Medif the camel is not to be harmed.¡¯ Sapphire proclaimed gravely, patting his camel¡¯s wooly side. ¡®-There, now they know. They follow commands very well. Better than you I must add.¡¯


    The serviles had quickly picked up the scent of prey, a certain shine in their eyes as they grunted for the merchant to come and see. They circled around vague and shifted rocks, almost imperceptible for untrained eyes. Seeing the empty flat rockland around him, Sapphire reckoned it were the old fire worshippers. The tracks led east, into the open desert where the prints were swallowed by the shifting sands.


    Sapphire knew those seemingly empty and endless seas of heat and grit, and knew there were few places to go if one wanted to cross. Rich or poor, prey or predator, we all drink from the same well, he thought with a smile.


    ***


    It was midday; white-hot disk of the sun nearing its height. The sand was light coloured and reflecte the unabating sun. The dominator, ruler eternal of these wastes, shining its rays on scant prey it sought to wrung out and force to their knees. The heat was reaching a level that even strained the veteran merchant. He took a waterskin from his saddle and squeezed out a small trickle.


    Then he reached into his pockets and took out a pair of spectacles; red-tinted glass held together by brass wiring. He had found it in one of the robes Semiramis had gifted him - stolen from dead caravaneers. The vulture.


    He placed the spectacles over his eyes and the land around him was coloured red. A deep red that turned dark at the edges, calming his silver eyes.


    ***


    The serviles continued their slog through the sand, equipment rattling on their backs, dry mouths closed. For three days they had traveled, and Sapphire hadn''t been able to extract anything more from them than simple yes and no¡¯s. It seemed all they wanted was to bring the heads of the old monks back to their mistress.


    So instead of conversing, Sapphire watched the slowly changing surroundings. Exchanging flat stony fields for increasingly unruly waves of sand. His mouth was desiring drink but he held off the urge. Water needed to be conserved, and it would be a while until he could refill his canteens.


    Sapphire knew many hidden watering places in this region, if not all, and in his mind he saw a map leading across the desert. In his turbanned head danced probabilities and calculations, and tiny figures crossing the dunes of sand.


    Those old fugitives must know something of the land, otherwise they would already be dry-vulture picked-bones in their bleached monk-robes slowly being swallowed by the sands - and these dogs would have found them.


    A hunt - a hunt, it resounded in his mind, the merchant picking up on the instinctive predation of his serviles. This was his domain, the great desert where he knew the hidden roads north, south, west and east. These were the sands where he had made his home on the camel¡¯s back, a living map, a ferryman for the less-knowledgeable. He glanced at the serviles. Hardy as they were, he doubted they had any idea where they were. They wouldn''t be able to read the stars, had no knowledge of the hidden water-stashes and forgotten wells that were buried in the grit.


    ***


    Across the flat desert, initially no more than a hazy simmering, a lone rock formation appeared, like an islet rising from a yellow sea. It had two large outcroppings that pricked up into the scorching blue sky.


    ¡®You see that on the horizon?¡¯ Sapphire asked his companions.


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ the answer came simultaneously from thirty two ragged throats.


    Despite the heat, their singularly minded voices made the fine hairs on Sapphire¡¯s arms rise.


    ¡®You are looking at the pillars of Salt, also called the waystone to Iram.¡¯ The merchant explained. ¡®Its a well-known point for men of my profession, and the first step on the staircase of our journey. The rock sides are made of salt, a necessary resource in these parts, but more importantly the pillars will provide some shade for the coming hours. We will halt there until sunset and we will continue through the night.¡¯


    He was replied with silence, no sound in the open desert save the shuffling footsteps of the serviles and the slow tred of his camel. Sapphire shook his head.


    ¡®Guess its just you and me, Medif.¡¯ He sighed, his tongue demanding conversation. ¡®Say, old friend, are you pursuing any ladies? Maybe we¡¯ll meet a nice camel-wife for you? None of those quick escapades anymore, you lover of women. None of those long-necked harlots, a proper wife I tell you.¡¯


    Medif¡¯s elongated ears flapped, noticing he was being addressed by his master.


    ¡®Youre not convinced h-m-m-m?¡¯ Sapphire continued. ¡®-You bandit of the sands, you are getting older also. No-no, do not deny it. You must think of your future, my four-footed friend. A good wife is what you need¡­¡¯


    Medif produced a balking sound from its throat, a growl-like noise.


    Sapphire nodded. ¡®You are right Medif. I also need a good wife...¡¯ His mind wandered, soaring high over the burning void around him. ¡®Semiramis.¡¯ His dreamy voice sighed.


    The creaking of leather and cloth as the serviles turned their heads at the merchant. Their glassy eyes were expectant and their indented blades hovered over the sand.


    ¡®Continue moving.¡¯ Sapphire ordered, fine thoughts turned bitter by their presence. His companions smelled of penetrant sweat and unwashed bodies. Their Long hair clumped together in thick locks over their backs. He wished he was back between the cushions.


    They reached the shade of the rockside and halted under the gaze of the pillars. It was a wind-smoothed wall of grey granite, with two stony towers reaching to the heavens. The lone pillars were surrounded by a nothingness that stretched out as far as they eye could see.


    Sapphire dismounted, sliding of Medifs saddle and landing dexterously on the sand. He placed his hand against the salt-rock.


    ¡®Listen all. My advice is to lick the stone. You will regain lost salt.¡¯ Medif joined him, momentarily brushing his droopy lips over the salt. ¡®But not too much.¡¯ Sapphire continued. ¡®You''ll need to balance with your water. From here there are two ways, and both lead east. With some luck the condemned succumb to the heat and dehydration, but for some reason I dont think it will be that easy. They seem to know the same paths as I do. Not a problem of course, because I still know where they are going. Now rest, servants of the Great one. We continue the hunt at night. Expect to see your prey soon.¡¯Stolen story; please report.


    They rested and consumed meagre rationed meals. The serviles sat down in a long row with their backs against the salt-rock. They said nothing and stared out into the bright unshaded desert that started again a few paces away.


    Sapphire took position before them, both hands on his hips. He inspected his ragged followers and shook his head. It was like leading a pack of corpses, and he didn¡¯t like it one bit.


    ¡®You bastards are so silent I dont even know who is tired and who is not. Are you able to continue?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ They all said in unison, but the merchant remained unconvinced. ¡®Are your throats not thirsty? Are your feet not hurting?¡¯


    There was no answer.


    ¡®Too difficult for you?¡¯ Sapphire asked. ¡®Am I a puppeteer then? Should I do the voices for you as well as deciding where you walk and sit?¡¯ He didn''t bother waiting for a reply. ¡®All rise!¡¯


    Immediately the entire troop of black haired warriors went up, battered hands clutching spears and daggers. Sapphire chuckled. ¡®I¡¯ll keep it simple then.¡¯ He pointed his ringed fingers at the line of warriors swarthy warriors. ¡®Gentlemen, look back to where we came from.¡¯ The servile heads turned back to the sands, empty eyes going back and forth over the horizon; scanning for prey.


    ¡®I dropped my empty canteen. If you look closely you can still see it lying on the sand. That little black dot in the distance. The one that brings it back gains a double ration of water. Retrieve it.¡¯


    The bound warriors darted off, their ragged feet kicking up dust as they ran out of the shadow. They didn''t slow for a moment. Once one managed to claw the empty waterskin from the ground the others followed him back to Sapphire.


    Dry fingers bound in old stained linen handed over the canteen to the merchant¡¯s empty hand. ¡®Better than a dog.¡¯ He tossed the empty canteen to the ground and exchanged it for a full one. ¡®Open your mouth.¡¯ The servile complied, tongue swollen and blackened teeth showing. Sapphire gave him a few sips of water. ¡®Its good to know who is the fastest.¡¯ He turned to the others. ¡®Your friend here is the fastest of you all! He will be known as ¡®Runner.¡¯ Alright, at ease men, continue the rest. Stay in the shadows.¡¯


    The serviles returned to the salt-wall and sat down.


    ¡®Close your eyes.¡¯ Sapphire ordered, their empty stares making him uncomfortable, and they complied. ¡®You have my permission to sleep.¡¯ He added, before sitting down himself. The merchant stretched out his tired legs and leaned back. Soon he himself dozed off in the heat. There wasn''t a single sigh of wind, and everything seemed too heavy. The sand, the stones, everything stuck in a thick molasses of warmth.


    Sapphire awoke again when the sun had reduced to a low hanging red orb. Long shadows already seeped out of the coming night over the desert. The intense head had dissipated, gradually making way to freezing cold.


    ¡®Time to go.¡¯ He said, suppressing a yawn.


    As the serviles rose again, one of them did not rise with the others. A single hunter remained motionless on the ground, chapped lips slightly opened. Dried eyes stared at the darkening sky.


    ¡®Should¡¯ve told me you was thirsty.¡¯ The merchant muttered. Death; This he was acquainted with. Seen it time and time again. No matter what propelled a man, this world had limitations; and especially in these arid places it was not afraid to demand respect from those who dared into the waterless barrens.


    The remaining serviles gathered around their fallen kinman, as if silently mourning. Then Sapphire heard a bark of one of the larger ones, and the corpse was stripped of possessions. Once they had gathered the sparse water, the weaponry and other trinkets they continued to the flesh. His eyes were pulled out by grimy fingers and pushed into eager mouths. The tongue and ears were taken. They cut slabs of meat from the body until its legs and arms showed to the bone. They threw themselves on the corpse like ravenous beasts until it was picked carrion.


    From behind, Sapphire heard Medif bellow, the old camel roaring and retreating away from the rapid feast. The merchant grabbed hold of the camel¡¯s strong neck, giving hushed commands to his four legged companion. Sapphire¡¯s gentle voice calmed the camel slightly, the beast snorting uneasily but remaining with his master.


    Sapphire turned back to his pack, yelling hoarsely to end the butchering.


    Thirty one ashen faced men lined up and fixed their intense gaze at the merchant. Their mouths and hands were red, pieces of raw flesh still stuck in their greasy beards.


    Sapphire¡¯s mouth was pressed close. He had murdered, poisoned, stolen, trafficked, smuggled, threatened, and even raped across the world. But eating one¡¯s kin? He spat; his disgust more important than his instinctive need to save water.


    ¡®Listen - Well...¡¯ He managed to hiss at the cannibals. He took off his glasses, carefully pocketing them in his long robe and stepped close so he could smell their stink.


    ¡®Are you listening?!¡¯ He yelled in their stoic faces, silver eyes wide with anger. The serviles had frightened him, and he didn''t like to be frightened. His shrill voice sounded far over the empty sands of dusk.


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ The many voices replied.


    ¡®Good!¡¯ Sapphire exclaimed. ¡®Because you will never do such a thing again!¡¯


    He spotted one of the warriors still chewing. ¡®Spit that out!¡¯ He cast his gaze away, hand sliding over the stubble on his chin. The stars were appearing one by one in a dark blue sky. Calm now, Sarpa.


    The merchant scraped his throat and adjusted his turban. With his chin raised he addressed his pack.


    ¡®Semiramis herself has given me authority over you sorry lot. On your knees, everyone.¡¯


    They soundlessly kneeled on the ground and his enraged mood was slightly elevated.


    ¡®There¡¯ll be some rules.¡¯ He said, deciding on a slow pace across the line of kneeling warriors.


    ¡®First rule. No cannibalism; I¡¯ve seen plenty of that already and I dont do trade in those parts anymore, despite the lucrative opportunities on those splendid coasts. The presence of man-eaters, even if their hunger is not targeted at me, makes me feel like prey as well. So you will not eat the flesh of man, not of your kin, and not of your enemies. Not unless I tell you to, and as of now there is no need for such desperate measures. We have plenty of rations to complete our journey¡­¡¯ He pouted his lips, thinking off what more to instruct these serviles now he had their attention.


    ¡®Second rule. When you are low in strength, high in thirst, you feel a leg malfunctioning, your movements slowing¡­ you are obliged to inform me. If you have no idea what I¡¯m talking about you will not survive, and I will continue with the smarter ones. The grand mistress has plenty more of your kind, I will not mourn your loss.¡¯ He nodded contently, some guidelines would improve the performance of these... things.


    ¡®Third rule. If I speak to you I will always be answered. You will reply - yes master -, and if you want to tell me something, always address me with master.¡¯


    ¡®Yes master.¡¯ They grunted and wheezed.


    ¡®Very well. Very well.¡¯ Sapphire calmed. ¡®Who was it that barked just before you ate your friend? I heard a bark, or a growl, or whatever you things do to communicate.¡¯


    One servile stepped forward, face crossed by scars. The whites of his dark eyes were yellowed.


    The upper lip of the man had been cut open once and had healed in a disfigured snarl, leaving a gap that showed sharp glistening teeth.


    Sapphire inspected the man, felt his strong arms, inspected the rest of his teeth; which were in semi-good condition. He checked the calloused hands and the weaponry the barker carried.


    ¡®A fighter eh?¡¯ Sapphire asked, peering up. The servile was at least a head taller than him, with thick cluttered locks of long hair. Grey strands showed through the black.


    ¡®You gave a signal of sorts, thus it seems you are the instinctive alpha of the pack. The strongest so to say, or perhaps the one with the most brain left. Do you have a name?¡¯


    The dusty desert warrior frowned. ¡®Name¡­¡¯


    ¡®You dont remember anything? Nothing of your past life? I suppose Semiramis wiped everything.¡¯


    ¡®Yes master.¡¯


    Sapphire smiled. ¡®I call you¡­¡¯ The merchant mulled. ¡®A man¡¯s name or a dog¡¯s name? What¡¯ll it be?¡¯


    ¡®Yes Master.¡¯ The grey-maned servile replied.


    Sapphire sighed. ¡®I''m going to call you Bucket, and you¡¯re an empty one. Now tell me your name.¡®


    ¡®I am Bucket, master.¡¯ The servile replied and something stirred in his yellow eyes.


    ¡®Allright, everyone weapons ready, baggage on your backs. We continue our hunt. Follow your master!¡¯ Sapphire pulled himself back in Medif¡¯s comfortable saddle and returned to the sand.


    Starlight guided the party across the dunes, bright constellations showing the direction and positioning of the earth. Travel by night, rest during the day; sleeping in the throughs of dunes so high they reached to the heavens and mercifully blocked the light. They hunkered together behind small boulders and fragmented rocks, or when nothing was in sight, continued in the burning sun. One well was reached, but it was shown to be only filled with sand, and Sapphire made a mental note of the location. His skin, despite their protective robes and wrappings, had started to deteriorate, and white scabs of dead skin had started to peel from his bronzed arms and face.


    Six more serviles he lost, five due to dehydration, one drowned in the sand of a collapsing dune.


    Twenty five continued in his footsteps. They didn¡¯t complain, but the merchant had started to feel pity for them. They were struggling, breathing heavily, their water rations low. More would fall quickly now, Sapphire predicted. Like flies, one by one, a trail of waterless wrinkled corpses.


    That night the merchant halted the travels. With a cold wind snapping around the dusty party Sapphire sat huddled in the embrace of his camel, Medif half curving around his master to provide shelter. Covered in thick blankets Sapphire watched the stars. They had mis-aligned today, a few degrees too far to the east for his liking. He thought of his ragged followers. They were his protection, and the tools for the completion of his sacred task. They were the ones that would commit the murder of the monks. He needed to save at least a few of them.


    He studied the stars again, taking out a few measuring tools. Degrees and angles, and calculations that he only slowly processed and completed. There was a stash, a small stash, of water, buried a day''s journey further east. It would deviate from the usual paths in the desert, but he decided the refreshment of his men required priority.


    ¡®Up!¡¯ He yelled hoarsely. He took a small sip of water to filter the dust from his throat. ¡®We continue!¡¯


    Medif bowed forward in the sand, and Sapphire clambered onto the saddle. With a surge the camel rose and the merchant was carried further. A line of moon-lit serviles followed silently behind.

 Chapter Thirty Four - Valley of the Lions

    <h1>Chapter Thirty four - Valley of the Lions </h1>


    A beastly head stared at him. From deep sockets dark eyes glowed like burning coal. Black fur grew wildly over the animal¡¯s thick boned head, the skin underneath covered in grime. Its strong jaws hung open slightly, spittle slipping out of the rows of large teeth.


    Kitun stared back. A droplet of sweat dripped down from a greasy lock of black hair curling over his forehead. The droplet made the beast waver in circles and Kitun realized he was staring at himself in a pool of blood. He swallowed uneasily, blinking his painful eyes. Where was he? He felt his fingers digging in moist dirt.


    A faint screaming entered his ears. His face hovered over the blood mirror, hands and knees on the ground. He saw himself. His hairy chest and broad shoulders were visible in the water. He was naked. Where are my clothes?


    His ears were ringing. You need to get up Kitun. Get up before you feel the speartip dig into your back. He gritted his teeth and tried to push himself up, but his strength seemed gone. Excruciatingly slowly he rose, one knee rising. Distant screams, sounds of clashing bronze. The scent of fire and death.


    He was breathing heavily as he finally looked up.


    Through his blurred vision he could see a figure before him. Kitun raised his chin. At least He would die with pride.


    But the killing blow never came. The figure waited until Kitun¡¯s broad shoulders rose further and the mist in his hazy mind gradually evaporated.


    A thin, elongated head stared at him. The man¡¯s squinting eyes were wary and cautious, keeping his distance.


    Kitun recognized him, but by the Gods he could not remember his name. One of his though. He nodded. One of his.


    His broad hairy chest heaved up and down, heart pounding hard within. He was exhausted. It felt like a herd of aurochs had stampeded over him. Slowly he scanned his surroundings.


    Armoured warriors stood around, their backs towards him and focus elsewhere with shields interlocked. A few were crouched down over corpses, cutting off the ears of the dead. The ground was cold, yet he felt the bright rays of the sun on his exposed skin. The sky was deep blue and the temperature was rapidly increasing. Early morning Kitun assumed. His last memories were charging down into the valley at dusk. Then fragments of blood and bestial murder.


    His mouth tasted like ash and metal. His ears twitched as he picked up the sounds of fighting. Mostly screaming of dying men. He glanced around him, his warriors surrounding him on all sides. Their banners were stood tall and waved gently in the grainy Uruk wind. Red fabric, golden stars.


    On the slopes of the surrounding hills he saw lions stalking amongst the boulders, patiently waiting amongst a black-grey carpet of crows and vultures.


    ¡®Did we win?¡¯ Kitun asked with a mouth parched so dry it hurt to speak.


    The slender face grinned. ¡®We did well, but its not over yet. T¡¯was a long night my lord, nothing seemed to satiate your bloodlust. Where you went we followed.¡¯


    The man speaking to him was tall, almost as tall as Kitun, though notably more slender. He wore an indented breastplate, a red cloak and a triple row of ears hung from his neck, laced on gold-thread. His skin was tanned, his eyes were fiercely green, and strands red hair were visible under his helmet.


    Finally Kitun remembered the name of the man before him; Kalam Twelve-toes, one of his long known braves.


    ¡®Give me a situation report.¡¯ Kitun demanded as he quickly inspected himself.


    A long wound had split the skin of his hairy forearm, several cuts on his exposed leg. He quickly thanked the Goddess when he saw his broad member dangling unscathed from a wild dark bush of hair.


    Twelve-toes didn''t seemed concerned by his Lord¡¯s nakedness and handed over a waterskin.


    ¡®My Lord, we have tormented the Isines with a nightmare that lasted until dawn. First light shows us to be in control of their camps. The surviving Isines driven to the edges - and even into the lion-infested hills around.¡¯


    Kitun noticed his morningstar still embedded in a nearby Isine corpse, the heavy bronze spiked mace still stuck in the dead man¡¯s helmet and skull. He pulled it out with a crack.


    His breastplate lay nearby, and he ordered his men to re-fasten it to his body.


    Someone handed over his helmet and he felt the familiar weight rest on his head. His shield was given to him by a limping servant. With the return to his weapons and armour; his tools for war, he felt a hint of anger. It was somewhere deep within him, but it was a small ember compared to the enraged furnace that had burned earlier.


    ¡®You said almost over, so let us finish it.¡¯


    ¡®Your memory is truly lost, Royal Bull.¡¯ Kalam grinned. ¡®There is only one you still need to face. This way my lord.¡¯


    The tall, tanned warrior led the way through the overrun campsites. Collapsed tents, earless corpses, overturned carts and wagons. Scattered around were piles of charred wood, much of it still smoking, some still burning; the penetrating scent of fire waking up the last strands of vagueness from Kitun¡¯s mind. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    His eyes were sharp, scanning, but only seeing his red clothed men occupy the grounds. The limited, almost casual sounds of fighting and killing softened. The density of the bodies increased, stiff limbs crossed over the flesh of their comrades; A last stand. Mostly Isines, but a few red-clothed bodies lay amongst them.


    Stepping over a corpse; a remnant of air wheezing out of the dead lungs, Kitun continued. He was followed by a small armoured group of spear-carriers. Twelve-toes brought him to a great central tent, intact and untouched by flames. It was surrounded by hastily erected barricades manned by arrow-riddled corpses. Kitun imagined the joy his men must have felt in this nightly hunt, the easy slaughter amongst the panicked sheep. The King shook his head. Isines¡­


    He spat and entered through the tent flap. Inside were more Uruk warriors, halting their frantic looting of chests and possessions and bowing their heads to Kitun. Deeper within the tent was a bed covered in a sheep¡¯s skin, the wool stained by the blood of its occupant. An old man lay there, one red hand pressed to his side. His weathered, hairless face was a grimace. Atop his white hair rested a golden circlet.


    Dead? Kitun wondered, but then the figure stirred slightly.


    ¡®Is that the King?¡¯ A soft, pain-tormented voice asked. Squinted eyes glistened towards Kitun.


    ¡®It is.¡¯ He replied, halting besides the woolen bed.


    ¡®Lower your weapon, Lord of Uruk, and shake my hand. Let us speak like men, instead of quarrelling like beasts.¡¯


    Yet a beast is what I am, Kitun thought, but he allowed the wounded Isine to push himself up slightly and offer his old hand, which Kitun gripped gently. He¡¯ll be at death¡¯s gates at noon without a healer.


    They looked into each other¡¯s eyes. Kitun read fear, and courage.


    ¡®I am King Kalbi of Isin.¡¯


    ¡®I know who you are.¡¯


    ¡®Please¡­¡¯ Old Kalbi groaned. ¡®Forgive us.¡¯


    ¡®You will waste your last breath¡¯s begging?¡¯


    ¡®Not for me.¡¯ Kalbi spat, a hint of tired anger in his voice. ¡®For the sake of my people and the fate of my city. Do not give it the fate of Larsa. It was I that caused this hardship. I was misguided by words of easy victory, lured south with promises of gold and lies about strength in numbers, but I have only led my people into a slaughter. It is not their fault¡­¡¯


    ¡®There are still men fighting under your banner, at the edges, in the foothills. Give the command for them to surrender.¡¯


    ¡®But they are not here, and my voice is weak.¡¯ Kalbi replied.


    ¡®Just give the command.¡¯ Kitun sighed. ¡®I am many things, but no one in this world or the next will call me a liar. Your men will be told to surrender by your command, and it is up to them to believe or to face our blades.¡¯


    Kalbi leaned back. ¡®can you give any assurances to the safety of my men?¡¯


    ¡®That is Eneduanna¡¯s decision to make.¡¯ Kitun replied coldly.


    ¡®Forgive us. I surrender, my men I order to surrender.¡¯ Kalbi said softly, the bitter words not more than a whisper.


    ¡®Good. Now make your peace, the Revered one demanded your head. I will allow you to keep your crown until the last. You will die a King....¡¯


    ***


    The Isines bowed. They were still in great numbers, but they had been corralled into killing grounds at the edges of the valley where steep rocksides blocked escape.


    Other, smaller groups descended from the hills, where, after a night¡¯s fighting against the men of Uruk, they had been beset by the cats. Exhausted, losing more kin, and seeing their brothers in arms kneeling and prostrating themselves, they joined the surrender. Their shields were painted with Dogs and Bees, and were placed on the ground, alongside their spears and bows. Their proud, torn banners were lowered last, and then they awaited their fate with bowed head.


    ***


    Kitun walked through the lines of kneeling prisoners. Inspecting them, watching for signs of treachery, or worse; disease. He found no such things. The Isines were utterly broken. Despite their casualties, they still outnumbered the smaller Uruk force, but the Isine will to fight was gone. Exhausted men, tormented, frightened and far from home. They feared the men of Uruk, they feared the great black bearded brute that slowly moved amongst them.The bull.


    They knew the beast better than the King himself, having endured its bellows every hour of the night. Now the Bull walked past them like a man, calm and composed, but every time he passed their bows deepened until they could taste the blood enriched soil in their mouths.


    Kitun halted at a trembling warrior, placing his large rough-skinned hand on the man¡¯s scalp. He turned the head, checking the jaws. He pushed a filthy finger in the man¡¯s mouth, seeing the teeth.


    ¡®Too much honey.¡¯ he muttered, before taking a deep breath.


    ¡®Your King is dead. I am your new King.¡¯ Kitun proclaimed to the prisoners. ¡®I am Lord of Isin. Your King begged me to show mercy to you and your city, to your villages and hamlets, to the entire land of Isin. Today I will spare you. The Revered one demands you enter her service. From this day you will fight for the banner of the High-Priestess. She is your Goddess and you will give your lives to her.¡¯


    The kneeling prisoners had their eyes fixed to the dirt but Kitun knew their ears were listening attentively. ¡®As for your lands, it is not my decision to give clemency. If it were up to me we will proceed to your city and only minimal grievances will be settled. However, Eneduanna decides, and if she decides cruelty, you are expected to deal out that cruelty.¡¯


    The Isines were silent, meek like lambs. Kitun gnashed his teeth. ¡®Say her name, Eneduanna!¡¯


    From behind him the Uruk warriors started the familiar chant.


    ¡®Join your voices to our prayer or by the Goddess I will swear none of you leaves this valley alive.¡¯ Kitun placed his morningstar atop the head of one prisoner. Piss streamed down the man¡¯s legs as he started to speak Eneduanna¡¯s name.


    ¡®Excellent. Louder, you Isine dogs. Louder! Sh¨¦ is listening, let her hear your voices!¡¯ Kitun grinned. Behind his eyes he felt the strain of exhaustion, but there was no time to waste.


    Eneduanna. Eneduanna. Eneduanna.


    ¡®Up, soldiers, we march to war!¡¯ Kitun averted his sight from their stammered incantation. Weakness disgusted him, and these conquered warriors were showing vulnerability like a wounded stag showed its lame leg to hungry wolves. Ripe for the slaughter, but he kept them. At the very least they could dig latrines and soak up arrow-volleys. ¡®Subur Ganbar¡¯ Kitun named them. Slave soldiers.


    His own were a better sight; Strong, tall warriors. Beards black as tar, men joyed with the marks of war they had received. Weapons drenched in Isine blood they watched their King with pride.


    ¡®Come, brothers, we return to Uruk!¡¯ The valley was filled with clamoring, of screams and of clattering bronze weapons. Around them, lionpacks roared with impatience. The birds had already flocked up, circling over their heads like a black cloud. Their cackling unnerved Kitun. A feast was about to commence and he wanted no part of it.


    His warriors picked up a number of downed Isine soldiers to placate the lions, and up in the hills they went to pay passage with the dead, leaving behind a burned encampment, hastily looted and inhabited by corpses, the first beasts stalking inside at the edges. Down the birdsswooped amidst a cacaphony of screeches and falling feathersand Kitun mercifully filled his ears with wax.

 Chapter Thirty Five - Carriers of the Sacred Flame

    Chapter Thirty Five - Gift of Hands


    Morning brought another parched landscape to Sapphire¡¯s eyes.


    A lizard had just emerged to bathe in the first probing rays of light and scattered back under its rock when the caravan approached. But it was too slow, already sighted by a hungry traveler, and the creature was torn from its lair by a large calloused hand.


    The servile bit off the head and continued walking, mindlessly chewing on the tough reptile meat.


    Sapphire leaned frantically back and forth in the saddle, actively searching his surroundings.


    It was as desolate as any part of this wide endless desert, and the lack of familiarity started to gnaw on Sapphire¡¯s tired mind. He hastily glanced up at the rising sun, its light heralding the well known wall of heat that was soon to arrive. ¡®Somewhere¡­ somewhere.¡¯ The merchant mumbled.


    A tiny speck of self-doubt slithered through his brain and his frantic eyes shot back and forth. He slowed the camel¡¯s pace. ¡®I¡¯ve buried them myself. I cannot be mistaken.¡¯ He assured himself, but the words failed their purpose.


    Perhaps he was getting older, mind decaying. Then his caravaneer¡¯s life would be over. There was no survival without the knowledge of the paths, the locations, the hidden water sources. He couldn¡¯t even find his own stash! A senile aging man, robbed of his profession, left to haggle for coppers in seedy shanties until even the ability to count and subtract had abandoned him; Dan Sarpa, the once great Sapphire¡­


    A rock in the distance caught his eye. His somber thoughts melted like ice in the desert.


    That is a rock - I daresay, recognize, he thought with a self-content grin. His dry lips split open as he smiled.


    ¡®Dogs.¡¯ He alerted his following. ¡®There is water there. Start digging.¡¯


    He dismounted Medif and pointed at a patch in the arid soil. A nondescript pattern of stones marked the spot. Placed there by his own hands - not that long ago, but it seemed a lifetime. Back when he was a simple, albeit affluent, merchant, shortly before he had picked up that crucial, elusive desert rumor of the tall lady in the sand.


    The dirt was clawed open by a writhing mass of servile hands. A clay jar was raised, and another, and a third, dug up from the cool deep wherein they had been placed.


    Sapphire received the first in his hands. An unwelcome surprise took hold of him as the weight was far too light. It felt empty. His mouth had gone dry with the expectancy of water and he swallowed with difficulty. The seal had been broken. He removed the lid and peered inside; nothing.


    He turned the jar upside down over his eager tongue and a tiny trickle, no more than a few droplets came out.


    ¡®Curse the thief!¡¯ He threw the jar away in rage, shattering against the sharp rocks. He took the other jars and, finding them similarly empty, broke them as well.


    Disillusioned he sat down on his haunches, face burrowed in his crossed arms. The heat was growing.


    Sapphire rocked himself back and forth. After a few heartbeats of despair he rose again, expression cold and reddened eyes warily watching his mute following.


    ¡®Seals been broken recently, otherwise those few drops would have been evaporated already.¡¯ He took his waterskin from Medif¡¯s saddle, the contents troublesomely little. Warm brackish water washed the disappointment from his mouth. ¡®There was none who knew the location of MY water, no soul save I and Medif. Our prey is close. Drink your water and strengthen your bodies, my hounds. Ignore your rationing. I need you quick and merciless.¡¯


    Again he glared at the sky, ocean¡¯s blue ebbing out over their heads.


    ¡®Continue the march.¡¯


    ***


    Sapphire¡¯s blue eyes pierced the dark like an owl in the night. The soft dunes were glazed silver by a swollen moon. The hunt was about to reach its conclusion.


    His heart was in a steady tempo, his senses sharper; more sensitive, pupils dilated.


    And there, visible like a signal from the tall mistress herself; an orange glow on the edge of black night.


    Then as nothing had been the light disappeared again.


    Sapphire turned in the saddle. ¡®They have covered their flame. They know we are tracking them.¡¯


    The eyes of his warriors shined in the moonlight.


    ¡®Double file!¡¯ Sapphire ordered, increasing his mount¡¯s speed.


    Behind the camel rider came a quick host of paired men, spears and knives raised.


    ¡®I am ready.¡¯ Sapphire exclaimed. ¡®¡¯By the Gods I am ready!¡¯ The merchant yelled into the night. ¡®Are you ready, my slaves?!¡¯ He asked the armed serviles.


    ¡®Yes master.¡¯ The warriors replied uniformly. Sapphire gritted his teeth. ¡®Drop your packs and drink your last water. We will take it from the old wanderers or we will perish.¡¯


    Heavy bags dropped, waterskins were drained and cast aside.


    ***


    Time passed without clear measure, Sapphire completely consumed with the desire for success. Pleasing Semiramis.


    Their pursuing speed was high and took its toll on the weathered serviles. Sapphire heard their heavy breathing as they slogged their feet through the sand. No bother, they can go on for a while longer.


    Across the silver plain of dust he regained sight of his target. Vague figures stirring afar, the white robes of the monks betrayed by the moon.


    ¡®Our prey is sighted.¡¯ Sapphire told his men. He licked his broken lips and raised his hand. ¡®You know the command; Kill - Kill them all. Dont let any escape.¡¯


    His hand lowered and the serviles rushed past him in silence. Cold murderers.


    Fortune will decide the outcome now, Sapphire thought, pressing Medif to follow.


    His hunters had seemed so simple during their arduous journey, mute mule-men without reason or skill. Now they revealed their true selves; beasts encased in branded bodies of man. Wolves, lions, jackhals, adlers. Abysall spirits moulded into silent hosts.


    With instinctive, calculated movements the eighteen surviving desert-men fanned out over the sand. They kept their bodies low to the ground as they closed in. Low, lower, until they were black serpents crawling after the monks. Patiently, carefully they lay in the sand.


    A rare cloud moved past the moon, the silver glow over the nightly sanddunes reduced, and the hunters ejected from the desert¡¯s floor. They scattered and split in two horns, sprinting through the sand in an attempt to envelop their prey by storm.  Their weapons were prepared for the kill. Their furious eyes bulged and their bearded mouths were opened in mute screams. The procession of monks seemed unaware. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The Altar sparked up, its canvas cover removed. Its furious fire was revealed and lit up the desert. The shadows of night were hurled back and the predatory serviles revealed.


    The orange rays of the fire repelled the packs of possesed, who clutched their eyes in confusion; blinded by the brightness.


    The old monks stood in its fiery aura. Twelve aged men in simple robes, armed with the bow, the spear and the sword. Their faces were shrouded by hoods, but long grey and white beards showed under stern mouths. The old hands released the strings of their bows and ejected arrows in the dazed serviles.


    Howls of pain, and the ragged horde spurred back into action. They leaped into the altar-guards from all sides. Kicked-up dust reduced the brightness of the light.


    The bodies intermixed, the flash of bronze. Screams of pain, some old, others inhuman.


    Sapphire watched from afar. He was tense. He blinked his eyes rapidly as the dust increased. The sounds of struggle dimmed, then fell silent. The desert was holding its breath. Not even a gust of wind to break the quiet. A complete stillness. The altar still shined. The dust around it settled down, and in the haze of sand figures became visible. Rigid statues.


    Sapphire ran, and every step increased the clarity of his work. The serviles stood where they had murdered, the fallen monks at their feet. They looked at their approaching master for commands.


    The fire hissed and sputtered within its gold and glass encasing, its attendants bleeding out in its warm aura.


    An uneasy feeling stirred in sapphire¡¯s stomach as he looked at the faces of the old men. They had been butchered, throats slit open, eyes gouged out. He felt pity.


    Three serviles lay further from the altar, arrows in their dusty bodies. A fourth had been slain by a monk¡¯s blade. A fifth was dying with a spear skewered in its intestines. The others had minor or greater wounds, but kept their backs straight. Thirteen serviles remained, their filthy skins covered in the drying blood of the pious, loyal to the hand of Sarpa.


    A sense of disgust came over Sapphire. ¡®Take their¡­¡¯ He swallowed uneasily as he glanced at the altar. ¡®Take their robes and cut off their hands.¡¯ His face hardened. ¡®Semiramis will be pleased.¡¯


    The serviles stripped the old bodies and mutilated the corpses. The only sounds were the breaking of bone and the wet slashing of flesh. Sapphire watched until he could no longer bear the silence. He retrieved his camel while the serviles piled up a mound of hands.


    When he returned with a reluctant Medif he comforted the camel with soft words, urging the beast not to watch.


    ¡®Search them for water.¡¯ Sapphire ordered the serviles, taking up thin string from a saddlebag. He sat down on the sand besides to the pile of hands. He crossed his legs and slowly stringed the hands together, twenty four in total. When he was done, his heart had gone cold.


    The serviles had scavenged sparse rations of water and food.


    Bucket, his greying beard painted red with blood, had exchanged his crude knife for a monk¡¯s sword. His yellow eyes almost seemed joyed.


    ¡®Come then, loyal followers.¡¯ The master told his servants. ¡®We will return to our Divine of the sands. The tall woman. The red haired one. I speak of Semiramis!¡¯


    Upon hearing their mistress name the serviles jerked and twitched their bodies. Spit dribbled from their mandibles and their muscles tensed.


    ¡®We will come bearing gifts. Expect to be rewarded. Now turn around and follow my guide. Leave this desolate plot for the vultures. The deal is done, the task complete.¡¯ Now the payment, please.


    The small caravan left the light of fire and returned to the silver shadows. The altar shined with the bodies of its keepers against its glowing panels. Its carrying poles lay useless on the sand. Sapphire had no desire for it, neither to keep nor destroy. He abandoned it, eager to increase the distance between him and the altar. Through the nightly desert they marched, taste of blood in their mouths, hearts pounding. Semiramis.


    ***


    It was night in the desert and Sapphire pulled pulled a thick blanket over his shoulders. He sat in the saddle slumped over Medif¡¯s soft wooly neck. His breath made small white clouds in the moonlight.


    The merchant looked over his shoulder. The remaining imprinted walked mechanically behind his camel.


    ¡®I know you care little for my praise, but you did well.¡¯


    Footsteps in the sand.


    ¡®Semiramis will be glad with us.¡¯ Glassy eyes darted to the merchant. On the saddle was strapped a bloody package of stained monk¡¯s robes, and a talisman of twenty four hands hung down the camel¡¯s side.


    ¡®-I will make a request to keep you lot. Good hounds. You have held up well in the desert. The weak have died off. With some training you can become sharks of the barren sea¡­¡¯


    Despite the cold he still produced a thin smile. ¡®Do you know what a shark is?¡¯


    ¡®No.¡¯ A servile replied, his tongue unwieldy. Sapphire saw it was the grey haired Bucket that had spoken. The other serviles seemed to agree in their silence.


    The merchant chuckled. ¡®See, it is not so hard to speak.¡¯ His eyes turned back to the black horizon and he leaned back in the saddle. ¡®A shark is a great sea-monster, smooth of skin, with beady black eyes and a big nose that can sense blood from one sea to the next. Its mouth is filled with rows of sharp teeth, gums pink and raw. It has a long tail and a fin on his back like a blade. It is an enormously hungry beast that prowls the currents for prey...¡¯


    Sapphire caressed the growing stubble on his chin ¡®...But I am starting to wonder, do you even know what the sea is?¡¯


    ¡®Water.¡¯ Bucket replied. Sapphire almost imagined a triumphant edge to the monotonous voice.


    ¡®Very good! Predators in the water. Just as in the ocean, you will be sharks in the sand. The dunes will be the waves where you will hunt. The richest, largest, fattest caravans will be your prey. Great whales of caravans you will pursue.¡¯


    No reply.


    ¡®I have heard you have attacked caravans before, those unfortunate enough to pass through what happened to be Semiramis territory at the time. She is a nomad, moving ever around. When you travel you are bound to encounter some traders, but the pillaging of trades can be done on a far greater scale. The desert is vast, endlessly vast, and I know its few roads.¡¯


    Sapphire sighed. ¡®I guess I have spoken too much for your feeble minds to comprehend. I¡¯ll leave your tired ears to rest. Trust your master, I¡¯ll bring you home.¡¯


    ¡®Home.¡¯ Bucket repeated.


    ¡®Light the lantern!¡¯ The merchant ordered. One of the imprinted took a lantern of brass and glass from his back, using flint to light the oil-lamp within. He handed it with steady hands to the merchant, who held it high atop his camel.


    Before them were miles of hill-sands. The nightly rays of stars and the moon grazed the tops of the dunes.


    ¡®Come now, come now. Tell me where you are, sweetheart.¡¯ He whispered.


    His aged silver eyes tracked the darkness. The grand one never stayed put in the one place. She exhausted the land and moved to the next well. She was a traveler, but they had only gone a week. Far from the original encampment she couldn¡¯t have gone - he hoped.


    On the faint outcrops of sand in the distance a small orange dot appeared. It blinked.


    Sapphire held his hand before the glass of his lantern and removed it again. The glass glowed warm in the cold night.


    The light in the distance remained shining.


    ***


    They continued until morning. As the sun rose, so did the heat. The merchant removed the woolen coat and glanced back at his pack. They moved the same pace as they had started, but tiredness was visible in their faces; everywhere except in the eyes.


    ¡®Rest comes soon my friends. As will reward. Karkid will bring you happiness.¡¯


    ¡®We are happy in service to the Divine.¡¯ Bucket replied.


    The merchant raised his brows in surprise. ¡®A whole sentence, would you look at that.¡¯


    In the light of dawn the awaiting lantern was less visible, the glint of bras in the golden rays more discernible than the light of flame.


    ***


    A party of three awaited atop the dune. They were wrapped in white cloths from top to bottom, and were half-embedded with the sand. Their faces were shrouded. As they pulled down the scarves they revealed the same hard faces as Sapphire¡¯s own men.


    Despite long years in the barren desert, the skin around their eyes and hands had burned and white layers of dead skin had begun peeling off. They had awaited here, on this sordid sun scorched plain of sand, for some time.


    ¡®Poor souls.¡¯ Sapphire muttered.


    The sentries were armed with primitive spears and bows. Sand flowed from their robes as they rose.


    ¡®Sapphire.¡¯ One said, turning half away and pointing at a swathe of dunes almost identical to where the merchant had come from. ¡®-Semiramis.¡¯


    ¡®Very good. You come with us. You comply with the hand of Sarpa.¡¯ Sapphire ordered. The three dry serviles nodded and meekly joined in with the others.


    Sapphire dismounted. He drank a mouthful of water, chewed on some dry goat-strips and looked at the brightening blue sky. He sat this tired body down on the sand and saw a dove fly through the heavens, going the same was as the servile had pointed.


    With reluctance he pushed himself up from the ground. ¡®Alright you dim-witted sand fleas, enough rest. Even I have enough of the desert. I desire the shadow of the Divine mistress.¡¯


    The caravan continued.

 Chapter thirty Six - Widow of Uruk

    <h1>Chapter Thirty Six - Widow of Uruk</h1>


    Red dust on Kitun¡¯s feet, exhaustion increasing its burden. Their trek had reduced to a shuffle. A day¡¯s march, a night of battle, another day¡¯s march. The King and his men felt it, yet they could not halt. Even the Subbar Ganbar were in better shape it seemed, frightened ankles rapidly moving at their flanks. They could flee if they tried, Kitun mulled. Wouldn¡¯t have the stamina to follow. But the Isines kept in place, continuing with heads bowed. Kitun finally stopped, and behind him the entire army halted. ¡®Water yourself. A few heartbeats and we continue!¡¯ He commanded.


    The men drank their water, dropped their heavy equipment for a moment and simply sat down on the barren dirt. Too tired to joke, too tired to laugh.


    Kitun allowed his muscular body to lay down on the dirt, his eyes closed a moment. It was calm, peaceful, embrace of sleep not far away. With a grimace he opened his dark eyes again. He stared up at the sky. A bird flew high overhead. A hawk, wide wings soaring wide as it circled the area for prey.


    With a sigh he pushed himself up. In the distance he could see the red domes of Uruk, simmering in the heat. Mere grasshelms on the horizon, meaning they still had a good number of leagues ahead.


    ¡®Rise!¡¯ He called. ¡®Forward!¡¯


    Horn Blows augmented his tired command, and tired legs slogged forward. In more normal times, Kitun would have spurred on his men with promise of drink and women, of celebratory feasts followed by warm beds. Now he spoke no such words. They were marching home, into war. The High-Priestess was there, facing what by reports had seemed to be half the River-Kingdoms. Alone. Vulnerable. Determination made Kitun¡¯s jaw clench. He increased his pace.


    Smoke in the sky, plumes steadily growing and augmented by a sky turned to orange haze by kicked-up dust. He hounded his men but they didn¡¯t reach the outskirts of Uruk before dusk, when the day¡¯s battle had already ended.


    Kitun made a quick prayer in thanks to the heavens for keeping some bloodshed in store for him, as he saw the invaders confined to their warcamps.


    Countless lights already burned as the sun descended its final stretch. Many, damned many. He saw their tents stretch out from the riverbanks to deep into the arid red plains. Dangerously close to the city they roasted their lambs and drank their beer, guarded by a quickly erected barrier of earth and stakes, their multitudinous banners stuck up on the earth embankments like watching champions from each respective Kingdom, city and tribe.


    The ground between the warcamps and the city itself, a good two thousand steps, was littered with corpses. Heaped up and discarded, and arrows thickly sown over the bodies.


    Then, following his gaze further west, came the slums of Uruk, previously inhabited by the city¡¯s most poor, the marks of shackles often fresh on their skin. Now it smoldered and burned, showing the source of the smoke plumes Kitun had sighted earlier. Fighting seemed to have carried over from the plains to the gates of the city itself, though they had failed to penetrate further.


    Remnants of Uruk¡¯s armies lingered from its Eastern-Gate to further into the dry land, lines running in parallel to that of the invaders. Many seemed to have returned into the safety of the city walls for the night, giving a difficult assessment of the number of surviving troops, through Kitun assumed they would be outnumbered nonetheless by that perfidious horde that had lumbered in from the east.


    His heart stirred as Kitun sighted the brass glimmer of Eneduanna¡¯s throne. He waited until the cover of darkness increased then rushed his force the final length to the High-Priestess.


    Braziers had been ignited by now and flames made her throne glow in orange-red light. His approach was heralded by a trumpet and scattered cheers from tired warriors. The throne, fixed on the east, was slowly turned by its naked carriers and angled to the approaching King.


    He couldn¡¯t help but grin as he dropped himself to his knees, feeling day¡¯s heat still in the sand.


    ¡®Revered one, the task you have given me has been completed. The King of Isin has fallen, his men have accepted the demand to follow and are here to abide by your command.¡¯


    Despite the fire, high on the throne Eneduanna¡¯s features were shrouded in pooling darkness. He sighted a dimpled chin, a tip of her nose, the eyes wholly inaccessible.


    ¡®Good, King.¡¯


    Behind Kitun the rest of his force rushed in with renewed vigor, bowing all around to the High-priestess.


    Before he could say more the brass throne already angled back to the East, ending the swift conversation. Instead the small silhouette of Heabani beckoned him.


    ¡®Good King, please come with me.¡¯ He urged on hushed tones.


    Kitun followed and ordered his exhausted troops to the city. ¡®No wine, no whores, tomorrow blood.¡¯ He issued a swift order, before giving the eunuch his full attention. ¡®The High-Priestess is displeased with me?¡¯ Perhaps a detail has surfaced, one of treachery and deceit, details concerning a certain sapphire gem.


    Heabani climbed the modest sand-barrier erected at the edge of the corpse plain. The guarding warriors quickly receded into the darkness. A torch was stuck in the dirt, showing the bodies nearby - the mass of flesh quickly fading in darkness. Black carapace reflected the light, scuttling over the corpses. ¡®The Revered one endured a great loss of followers today.¡¯ Heabani stated. ¡®Wave after wave has been sent into the slaughter, all to keep the enemy occupied and prevent them from breaking through. They wished to join up with the Isines, and at the worst, cut you off. But at the price of a few thousand citizens you received a clear road back to Uruk.¡¯


    ¡®I see.¡¯ Noticing a considerable number of women and children amongst the fallen. Lightly equipped, wearing the cloth of commoners, armed with daggers and axes and stones. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡®In her infinite wisdom, the Revered one kept the experienced troops out of harm''s way, though they had to be deployed at the southern flank at the end of the day. The invaders have brought Chariots from Elam. Beyond the mercenaries they employ, their own forces are exceptionally strong. Kingdom of Ur and Kingdom of Eridu seemed to have long prepared for this engagement. Their soldiers wear bronze and their bows are many. Black clouds harvested Uruk life today. Tomorrow you are expected to charge their lines and break them. Eneduanna has foreseen three days of fighting. First you in the lion valley, second the massacre on the Uruk plains, tomorrow the destruction, of you, or them. How many Isines did you capture?¡¯


    ¡®Two and a half thousand. They¡¯ll do nothing but hold ground, and even then I reserve my trust.¡¯


    ¡®I will inform Matron Amalda that they need to be initiated. The sisterhood will work on them during the night. Tomorrow you will command them.¡¯


    Kitun sighed. ¡®Thank you, Heabani.¡¯


    ¡®For what, King?¡¯


    ¡®For keeping the city intact during my absence.¡¯


    Heabani chuckled. ¡®Tomorrow is your day. We cant wait longer, food is reaching critical levels. Ur knows and is content to wait, we are not.¡¯


    ¡®How did it get this far, Heabani?¡¯ Kitun wondered. ¡®How did we manage to rile up half the River Kingdoms? Oblivion looms just after the Revered one has achieved ascendance. She says communion with the Queen of Heaven, yet from the world of clay and mud she is replied with swords!¡¯


    ¡®A-h-h-h, now there¡¯s a yearning that calls for understanding.¡¯ Heabani replied. ¡®Youre asking the question to the right person, though those harpies of the sisterhood vainly try to outdo me in cunning. Guile has long been Uruk¡¯s greatest strategy. Two, three decades ago, when you were a little orphanage youthling, this city was not as grand as it was now. A small trading town at the banks of the Euphrates, its lands poor and barren, its walls guarding a small, tenacious cult, little understood by the traders that passed through, and deemed insignificant, although hardy, by the nearby rulers. The Revered one was shrouded back then, hidden and only sighted by way of statue. We fought in wars that were not ours, supporting allies that shifted loyalties like quicksand, methodically carving out a small mercantile empire, pushing tiny concessions here and there. Gold brought people, gold brought strength, gold brought more gold. Seeds were carried over the river waters and tiny cults of devoted sprung up elsewhere, influence grew, Uruk became independent. Then, it became mighty, raiding the weak and demanding tribute when compliance was given. The Larsans saw what would become and tried to stop us, they never were inclined to deal with our proposals in the first place. Their defeat was so sudden and severe the other Kingdoms were shaken, and the unfortunate annihilation of Larsa by way of Eneduanna¡¯s cruelty only put more oil to the fire it seems. If only they opened the damned gates... Aye, gold and silver flowed profusely, as did the assassin''s blades and the harlot¡¯s touch. There is a lot of invisible power Uruk holds, yet there are other grand cities in the world, and they have paid attention. They have kept their comfortable positions for ages and have deep coffins of their own. This is what has been amassed to the East; the old world, desperate to cling onto power. Mind you Kitun, the rest of the world is watching, breathlessly, if a new age is commencing or if the old flame shall sputter on.¡¯ Heabani pushed a finger onto Kitun¡¯s broad chest. ¡®So tomorrow you take victory, or you shall lie in a grave.¡¯


    ¡®So much was clear.¡¯ Kitun somberly said. ¡®I will try to find some rest, I haven''t slept in days.¡¯


    ¡®Dont sleep too long, you must strike before dawn.¡¯


    Kitun turned away, then halted. ¡®Could use some mercenaries of our own, what ever happened to that Hurrian? I dont see him amongst the ranks.¡¯


    ¡®The Hurrian has departed the city on a mission from the Temple.¡¯


    ¡®Can we expect a Hurrian legion to aid our cause then?¡¯ Kitun tried hopefully.


    ¡®I''m afraid not, King, victory rests solely on your shoulders.¡¯


    ***


    Sjerub skulked in the cargohold of the vessel. Seemingly endless rows of amphora and chests surrounded him, leaving little space for a wounded Hurrian. His wounds hurt, but had started to heal. Arrows in his chest, a deep stab in his upper thigh, and a dark kettle filled with drowning water. It was a miracle he still lived, yet he felt little joy in his continued life. Days of being locked in a ship¡¯s cargo hold sucks out the joy from anything, he supposed, especially when augmented with the fragrance of old vomit and his own accumulating filth. In the darkness he lived, as if he was back in the black cell of Eneduanna, but only this time there was none to break up the moments of dreary boredom and frantic rage.


    He ate what he could scavenge amongst the crates, he drank what he could find in jugs and broken pottery; mostly wine, which made his state even worse.


    Inebriated he stumbled in the hold, time passing, occasionally yelling up in rage and pulling on the hatch; which was locked. Heabani had made sure the merchant-captain would not let him out until he would reach his destination. ¡®For your own safety.¡¯ The little eunuch had told him, shortly before he was shoved down in the darkness and the lock turned.


    It seemed his life was becoming a continuous series of suffering. Better to die on the battlefield. At least he could smell the fresh air and could cut a path to where he wished it all to end.


    He carried his sword; the promise of blood, but how much longer would he had to wait?


    Sjerub picked up an amphora of wine and threw it through the hold, shattering in a broken splash somewhere in the darkness. ¡®Let me out!¡¯ He hoarsely commanded anew.


    To his surprise he was replied by a flash of bright, blinding light.


    ¡®Calm, you Hurrian dog!¡¯ An irritated voice replied. ¡®I''m letting you out of your cage, better not bite.¡¯


    Sjerub¡¯s eyes slowly adjusted to the light. He could see a blue square and an angry bearded face at the edge, peeking into the hold. ¡®By the Gods, you¡¯ve made a mess. Drank half my wares you did.¡¯


    Sjerub grunted, stumbling towards the light. ¡®Get me out of here.¡¯ He hissed.


    The merchant nodded reluctantly, warily extending a sinewy hand to the Hurrian. As he was pulled up he could finally see his surroundings. They were moored at a small river-pier, reed growing thick. Further ahead a small city was visible, built of simple brick stones. The land further from the river was empty and flat, small hardy bush growing in the soil. Beyond the city to the north he could see foothills rise, and further the vague peaks of the mountains. Aratta¡­


    A cold wind threw the Hurrian¡¯s long hair in a whirl and he couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    ¡®Aye, that''s where you¡¯re going, aren''t you? Back to where you hounds live?¡¯ The merchant spat. ¡®Cost me enough to transport ye, but good Heabani was insistent.¡¯


    A few deckhands gave him curious glances but kept their distance.


    ¡®Thats Rapiqum?¡¯ Sjerub asked.


    ¡®Northernmost tip of the River Kingdoms, where the civilized world ends. The river bends and flows west from here on out, but I¡¯ll be damned if I go further. Rumors of Anakim hunting.¡¯


    ¡®This far East?¡¯ Sjerub asked with surprise.


    ¡®Dont have those hungry giants in Aratta I suppose?¡¯


    ¡®They wouldn¡¯t dare.¡¯ Sjerub gave one last look at the hole he had spent in the last few days, then left the ship. Every step away from the stinking vessel made him feel better. He walked north, to home. He was not expecting a good welcome, but in service of the High-Priestess he would do anything, even face the treacherous snake-den that was Aratta¡¯s mist-bound court. He was still serving Eneduanna after all, even after the bountiful suffering he¡¯d experienced. A Hurrian oath is never broken.

 Chapter Thirty Seven - Fellow Caravaneers

    Chapter Thirty Seven - Fellow Caravaneers


    Sapphire found Semiramis at Enki¡¯s well, a small oasis in a hidden valley with rock walls. Palms and shrubs grew in the valley. Endless dunes surrounded the thin protected strip of rare green. Sapphire knew the oasis, having passed through before on his mercantile journeys, but it was well over a decade ago since he last set foot here. Back then he had been alone with his small caravan, a small group praising their luck when they came upon the shadowy cool valley, completely empty save palms and water-caves. Now he could see the sprawl of tents all around the oasis, spread out over the sand. A small city, temporarily erected in the nomad¡¯s pursuit of water and sustenance. It seemed Semiramis had only attracted more followers while he was gone from the seemingly empty desert. His small troop passed through the outer layer. Sapphire heard voices, women and children, bleating of goats. These people had kept their minds, most of it at least. With the heat of day setting in rising most were inside, save a few patrols of ashen-faced guards. Inside the valley more tents, and finally the great pavillion of Semiramis herself, lapped together from a hundred different patterns and colours.


    As he entered the valley he saw the curly haired priestess emerge from his mistress tent. He also noticed three new camels besides the pavilion. Karkid swiftly walked towards him. She wore a long white dress contrasting with her brown skin. The slave collar with the name-pendant still hung from her neck, but her wrists now held bands of gold. Karkid counted the serviles, then fixed her brown eyes on the merchant. ¡®Sapphire-Sarpa.¡¯ Her upper lip curled slightly to show her teeth. ¡®Welcome back. Semiramis awaits you. Have you succeeded in your task?¡¯


    ¡®We have murdered the monks.¡¯ ¡®


    You have lost many.¡¯


    ¡®It was a difficult journey.¡¯ The merchant replied warily.


    ¡®Undoubtedly.¡¯ Karkid retorted with a sense of disdain. ¡®One of your friends has arrived. A caravan-man, by the name of Umal. He has pleased my mistress profoundly with his gifts of fabrics and jewelry from Uruk. A shame you did not bring the same gifts when your camels arrived.¡¯


    Sapphire frowned. The desert woman drips with venom ¡®You speak too much for a slave. All gifts given were my possessions. Umal works for me. I financed the entire operation.¡¯


    ¡®H¨¦ gave it to H¨¦r. She cares not who financed what...¡¯ Sapphire felt his stomach turn and twist with jealousy. Someone else was with her now, pleasing Semiramis. Pleasing. ¡®Out of my way Karkid.¡¯ He spat with haste. ¡®Go serve my men!¡¯ ¡®Your men?¡¯


    ¡®My men!¡¯


    Bucket stepped forward. ¡®We are sharks.¡¯ He added dutifully.


    ¡®Shut your damned mouth you imbecile!¡¯ Sapphire cursed, pacing past the slave-priestess. A hip-flask of precious water he poured over his face. He tightened his turban and his steps increased in speed. By the time he reached the pavilion he was running. Imprinted guards, armed with stolen swords and wearing captured helmets, allowed him to pass.


    Through alleys of cloth and draperies he ran. His nose filled with a myriad of scents, incenses, sweet fragrances. A soft drum sifted through the canvas walls. He winced as he entered an empty room, turned back and sought to find another way through the labyrinth of soft coloured walls. He stumbled red faced into another chamber, now suddenly directly faced with his tall mistress.


    He could see Semiramis seated at the back of the room, and a wave of delight coursed through Sapphire¡¯s loins as he saw her tall porcelain figure to be naked. His eagerness evaporated once he saw Umal and the other caravaneers bowed before her toes. Piles of carpets and silver and gold and chests of spices were gathered besides his mistress. Sapphire¡¯s blood ran cold.


    ¡®Ah.¡¯ Semiramis hummed, auburn hair shining red in the warm glow of copper lamps. ¡®My desert Sapphire. Your friends have arrived. I thought them all dead.¡¯


    ¡®So did I.¡¯ Sapphire replied, trying his very best to contain the venom in his voice. His thumb fumbled with one of his rings. Umal rose and approached the merchant. ¡®Sapphire¡­¡¯ He rumbled with a wide grin under his black moustache. He opened his arms in greeting. Sapphire forced a fake smile on his sweaty face and accepted the hug.


    ¡®We''ve made it.¡¯ Umal grunted, tears in his eyes. ¡®-And what about Arenaten?¡¯ Sapphire shook his head and pushed himself away from his former camel-driver. He moved to Semiramis and threw himself before her. He removed the turban with the Sapphire so his thin gingerly hair was visible, glazed with sweat.


    ¡®Holy one.¡¯ Her fingers reached out and caressed his wet hair. He gasped, forcing himself not to moan has her nails moved over his scalp.


    ¡®Have you done what I asked?¡¯


    ¡®The monks are dead. I brought their hands trophies.¡¯ Her hand retracted. ¡®Good. You can give them to Karkid. I am sure you and your friends have lots to discuss. Go and take them outside.¡¯


    Sapphire looked up. ¡®But¡­ mistress. Have they not received their reward of paradise yet?¡¯


    She smiled. ¡®They have not become imprinted, and neither have you, remember?¡¯ her smile widened, almost taunting him. ¡®You can go now, Sarpa.¡¯


    He took the others to his private tent, which he found furnished and set-up in the valley under the shade of a palm-tree. ¡®You were right Sapphire, by the heavens you were right.¡¯ Umal said. ¡®A Goddess.¡¯ Another caravaneer exclaimed. ¡®-Willing to cast her eyes upon us!¡¯ The caravaneers were glowing. They yapped on, filling Sarpa¡¯s ears with their babble. He replied only sparingly. His throat was constricted by jealousy; His silver eyes kept returning to Umal. From his tent he produced a sealed clay pitcher. He removed the cork and filled four cups for his old companions, then took a swig straight from the pitcher. It tasted well. Rich and aged. The others drank eagerly from their cups. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡®The Uruks found our trail.¡¯ Umal continued. ¡®They hunted us like horny dogs chasing a bitch. But I was not afraid. I knew the desert, I remembered your lessons. I lead them on, confused the tracks. Still, we were pursued. By the Gods whoever was hunting us was hard-headed. Their horses died one by one, but they would appear on the horizon time and time again, numbers reduced at each successive dawn. One night I heard one call to us. The voice was horrid. Grating. Like a single-stringed violin built of rotten wood. It was the damned hunter, the ugly bastard we chased off at Uruk¡¯s edge. ¡®Sapphyr.¡¯ He called to me, and I heard he was close.


    ''I said: I am not Sapphire, I am Umal, and I am but a humble trader carrying fabrics and silverware across the sands. Then we left our beds and fled in the night. When it was light we realized Hossa wasn''t with us. You remember Hossa, the musician?¡¯ Sapphire nodded dryly. ¡®Poor Hossa.¡¯ Umal continued, his moustache twitching. ¡®But we managed to evade the Urukians for good. By the Divine, it feels good to be here.¡¯


    Sapphire grimaced. ¡®You made sure you weren''t followed?¡¯


    Umal nodded assuringly. ¡®I saw none, my friend.¡¯


    Friend, Sapphire thought. What happened to master? He put on his widest smile and gave them more drink. They were indulgent like thirsty mules and by the time the sun was lowering the four caravaneers lay in bloody pools of their own vomit. Sapphire had watched them to the very end, then ordered serviles to remove the corpses.


    ¡®I know you dont let good flesh go to waste, but dont eat these.¡¯ Sapphire told the workers. His own stomach felt only mildly nauseous, and every heartbeat he felt better. Years of ingesting poisons had made him effectively immune to the lethality of it all. He undid his sweat-soaked traveling robes. He washed his naked body and shaved the stubble from his chin. From a chest filled with stolen merchant-attire he chose fresh yellow robes. He put on shoes sown with gold thread. He polished the blue gem and wrapped himself in a new turban of white weaving. He fixed a ceremonial knife at his hip, watched his gaunt face in a small mirror and returned to the pavilion.


    Semiramis awaited him, now standing upright, unashamedly showing herself to him. He came closer to her towering presence. ¡®Have you poisoned them?¡¯ She asked softly.


    Sapphire cleared his throat. ¡®I did, my mistress.¡¯ He confessed.


    ¡®Your jealousy was so strong. I could taste it on my tongue. It is the sweetest taste.¡¯


    ¡®You are not angry with me?''


    ¡®On the contrary. I am very joyed by your actions, Dan Sarpa. How was your journey?¡¯


    ¡®All went well. I see your devoted have grown in number.¡¯


    ¡®I branded another tribe. We will move to Uruk soon enough. The desert has difficulty sustaining us.¡¯


    ¡®You will be joyed there, great one. You will hear people without number say your name in prayer.¡¯


    Semiramis gave a content moan and pressed the merchant against her stomach. ¡®Your words are fine, my little merchant. Your absence has been noticed. You serve me so well. As much as I like to keep you however, I need you for another task. Doves have told me the time is approaching for the binding of the King of Uruk. An opportunity will arise and you must find it.¡¯ She let go of the trembling merchant, but kept the man bound with her eyes. Sapphire needed a few breaths to regain his senses.


    ¡®Will he be away from your sister then?¡¯


    Semiramis let out a low growl. ¡®May her head become infested with ants. She is fighting wars now, undoubtedly this King will be sent out somewhere out of her sight. You must deliver Karkid to the King of Uruk.¡¯


    Sapphire nodded. ¡®I have informed him of your future arrival. He may have turned against us.¡¯


    ¡®He has not.¡¯ Her eyes squeezed together in joy. ¡®Karkid has received her orders. You needn''t worry, only to carry her across the sand and come back to me.¡¯ Her eyes stared down into his.


    Sapphire bowed his head. ¡®Ofcourse. I would do anything for you.¡¯ Semiramis hummed contently and dropped herself into her seat. ¡®Karkid!¡¯ She snapped with sudden ferocity. ¡®Wine!¡¯ Her scornful face turned to meek happiness when it turned back to the merchant.


    The desert woman quickly entered, this time naked. Her small breasts hovered over the amphora she was carrying. Semiramis watched Sarpa¡¯s eyes, but nothing stirred within. ¡®Are you not interested in women?¡¯ Semiramis asked. ¡®Look at that pretty thing, a rare flower in the desert. Aged but not soured. You can have her - if you wish.¡¯


    Karkid showed no emotion as Dan Sarpa¡¯s assaying eyes crossed hers. Sapphire shook his head. ¡®I care little for the world, save Semiramis. You are my star in the night.¡¯ Semiramis took the amphora with both hands and Sapphire watched as she drank deeply. Droplets of red dripped from her chin onto her breast and stomach, pooling in her navel, overflowing and streaming further down.


    ¡®For a servant you show little reverence.¡¯ She stated with hard eyes.


    Sapphire threw himself to his knees again. ¡®Forgive me, Divine one. I am intoxicated with your presence.¡¯


    ¡®Well control yourself, or I¡¯ll have those silver eyes of yours.¡¯


    ¡®Most Revered one¡­¡¯ Sapphire wheezed.


    ¡®That¡¯s enough, Sarpa. Stand up and give me your ears.¡¯


    ¡®My¡­ ears?¡¯ Sapphire frightfully cupped them with his hands.


    ¡®Listen.¡¯ Semiramis clarified, pointing at her own. She drank again, heavy swallowing followed by a content sigh. She handed the once heavy amphora back to Karkid with one hand. ¡®You want too much. Watch your desire or you will burn yourself up. I can see to the depths of your heart. It is the heart of an individual. An egoist. A taker and a thief. You are a predator, but think careful of who you decide as prey.¡¯


    Sapphire felt nauseousness overflow him, the judgement of his mistress shattering his world. He stammered futile apologies and Semiramis grinned. She straightened her back and looked at the ceiling. Her tall form started spinning with extended arms. ¡®Serve me well. Serve me well. Serve me well.¡¯


    She took the wine back from Karkid and drank more, spilling the red profusely over her pale skin. ¡®Sarpa, pay attention!¡¯ She suddenly snapped, eyes wide. The enormously tall mistress giggled innocently. ¡®A storm is coming Dan Sarpa, I purchased it from Iram with blood. The most terrible storm you have ever seen scour the surface of the earth! Now go, you with that fine sapphire on your head, get that despicable whore Karkid to Kitun the black-bearded. All the devoted power in the world shall now shift from Eneduanna in Uruk to Semiramis the eternal!