《Amagi》


 One

    AKKADIAN EMPIRE


    2130 BCE


    Utua wiped the sweat building up underneath his forehead. Using both hands, he plucked at his tunic in hopes that it would not fasten onto his skin.


    The sun scorched the city of Ur; each of the many stones in the path in front of him left pebbles stuck into his sandals. With his left hand, he reached around his belt and unscrewed the leather top of his water skin, only to raise it to his lips and find that not even a single dropped remained. He silently cursed the gods, mumbling under his breath as he gripped the rope secured around his trustworthy¡¯s donkey¡¯s neck, Angus. The animal released a loud bray, her hooves clacking loudly against the stone path. Even in this unbearable heat, she had not given him trouble once. The wheels of the wagon loudly squeaked behind them as they weaved through the crowds on the street. Angus released a loud snort, pawing the ground.


    A group of children laughed and screamed as they rushed down the street, chasing down a kitten. The sound of water suddenly splashing to the ground next to him made him jump; a woman from the window in one of the apartments above finished dumping out her bucket, before slamming the door to her window. The smell of spices, loaves of bread, fish, roasting over flames, sewage¡ªall settled in his nose like a melting pot. He heavily sneezed and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his tunic, scanning the place in front of him with his one good eye¡ªthe other gouged out. Angus snorted once more, her large nostrils expanding, then shrinking.


    It was indeed, a very hot day.


    Utua patted the top of her head. ¡°I know, I know. We shall find a well soon.¡± Just a bit longer, he thought. Only a bit longer.


    His stomach grumbled. In the horizon, he could make out the multiple ships next to a long, wooden docks. Above the crowded people¡¯s heads, where the market was even busier and more crowded than the street, he could make out blue in the horizon. Endless blue. He began to walk a little faster¡ªdespite the soreness in his legs, the sound of water motivated him. He was a muscular who had seen many moons, his graying hair blown by the wind. The docks. That is where Master Matthias had ordered him to go. The docks.


    He¡¯d gone as fast as his legs would carry him. He wasn¡¯t getting any younger, but he knew that age was not to be excuse for any slave, no matter what age. His master made sure of that.


    The fresh salty scent of the Persian Gulf reached his nose. He had just made it to the edge when a soldier stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Even underneath his armor, the man¡¯s sun burned skin was coated in sweat. His hand rested on the tilt of his dagger, which hung by his waistband.


    ¡±Halt,¡± he ordered.


    Utua roughly grabbed at Angus¡¯s rope, causing the donkey¡¯s hooves to awkwardly slide across the uneven, red dried soil. He was struggling to catch his breath, and wiped his sweat soaked hair away from his face.


    ¡°State your business,¡± the soldier said.


    ¡°I have a message from my master,¡± Utua said in a low voice. His throat hurt. ¡°He has sent for me to pick up his purchased goods.¡± With his hand, he dug into the waistband of his tunic and held out a wrinkled scroll. ¡°From this ship in particular, sir. I am to fetch them for him.¡±


    The soldier snatched it from him and began to read. Utua almost chuckled¡ªhere he was, looking so anxious around him, to establish a sense of intimidation. He glanced to the side and noticed a stone well. ¡°May I please give my steed drink? We¡¯ve come a long way.¡±


    With a grunt, the man nodded. His eyes were still focused on the scroll in front of him, like he wanted to pitch it off into the sea. Utua drew the bucket up and presented it to Angus, who began to rapidly gulp it down, spilling it on both sides. The sensation of the cold water against Utua¡¯s throat was heavenly, and he splashed it down his face, hair, and neck. Once his water skin was full, and Angus had gone through two buckets, soldier rubbed the back of his neck. He loudly whistled at two men from the ship, who began to load several barrels and boxes into Utua¡¯s wagon.


    ¡°You are a Kishite?¡±


    Utua lead Angus away from the well. Her tail was swaying back and forth. ¡°Yes, sir. My master is a nobleman of the city.¡± His lips formed a slight frown when he noticed the soldier¡¯s hesitation. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°Your master requested three healthy male slaves,¡± the soldier murmured, glancing up at the ship. He squinted his eyes from the direct sunlight. ¡°The trader has no more of them. Not until next week, I am afraid. You may have to return until then for the auction.¡±


    All of the water that Utua had swallowed suddenly sat into his stomach like a pit. Return? He gritted his teeth. Matthias was not a patient man, and the scars and lacerations from the endless beatings told otherwise. If he¡¯d learned that he hadn¡¯t even been able to reach the Persian Gulf with only mere hours to spare, he might not be able to walk the next time.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you¡ª¡±


    The sound of high pitched screaming and rattling chains made them both look up. A man wearing dark robes and a turban roughly dragged a small boy with long matted hair, dressed in a filthy tunic. His skin was as bronze as the statues at the temples in Kish. The child was fighting, screaming at the top of his lungs, his stick limbs flailing in the air. As the slave trader sent the boy sprawling to the ground, Utua fought the urge to reach out for him. He didn¡¯t know why it had come over him. He didn¡¯t like children at all. Couldn¡¯t stand them. He attempted to maintain a still face in regards to the men around him, but he could not shake off his disgust.


    The boy whimpered and held his shackled hands over his dark head. Utua fought the urge to look at him. He narrowed his one eye. He couldn¡¯t be no more than five moons.


    ¡±Surely, there must be a mistake,¡± Utua stammered. Why would Matthias want this?


    ¡°This one the last one here,¡± the trader snarled through his yellow teeth. ¡°I have none left. He is ill. He has been throwing up constantly, dirtying up my ship. I ought to have thrown him into the sea the first time I got him. No one else in his village survived.¡±


    ¡±Where is he from?¡± Utua asked. His hands were shaking from exhaustion. Even though Matthias had his requests, he hadn¡¯t specified if the slaves were to be an adult or a child. It was better than returning with nothing and face a more severe punishment than the one he about to get. He bore forty years of lashings, beatings, and sleepless nights. A few lashings spared would suffice¡ªwaking up with bloodied back was beyond merciful. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Better one slave than none at all.


    ¡°Filthy Canaanite,¡± the slave trader spat.


    Utua studied the soldier. He had a lopsided smile on his face. After a brief pause, Utua glanced at the wagon. ¡°Put him up there. ¡°


    With a nod, the slave trader reached for the child. He released another ear shattering shriek as he was roughly thrown into the cart, amidst the boxes and barrels. The sound of rattling chains echoed in Utua¡¯s ears, and his breaths were slow, heavy. He could hear the boy¡¯s limbs thumping gently against the bottom of the wagon.


    Angus snorted.


    ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there,¡± the soldier barked at Utua. ¡°You return back home to your master.¡±


    Without a word, Utua reluctantly turned and began to make his way opposite down the road, Angus¡¯ hooves clacking against the gravel ground. The boy¡¯s cries and screams gave him a headache, but he didn¡¯t look in the wagon. He didn¡¯t dare. He gritted his teeth and focused on the road. He was grateful for the sounds of the people around him to block out that horrendous scream, even temporarily.


    But when Utua exited the town and the valley came into view, he finally lost his temper. In a fit of rage, he released Angus¡¯ rope and stormed to the back of the wagon. The child was curled up behind a crate, hugging his knees, tears streaming down his face.


    ¡°Enough,¡± Utua bellowed.


    A startled look crossed the boy¡¯s face. With a swift motion, he scooted closer to the corner of the wagon, hiding behind the crate. He began to whimper and peeked out once at Utua, before ducking behind the box again.


    Utua remained still, his Adam¡¯s apple bobbing up and down. He gripped both sides of the wagon with his large fingers. His breaths were heavy. ¡°I will not tolerate any more foolishness from you. You behave yourself.¡±


    Silence.


    ¡±Do you understand?¡±


    Nothing. Of course, Utua figured he didn¡¯t. The boy was a Canaanite¡ªhe most likely spoke Hebrew or Aramaic. He¡¯d most likely be sold off again within the following morning. Matthias would find him useless.


    With an annoyed sigh, Utua returned to the front and continued to lead Angus forward. To his surprise, there was a hint of guilt building up inside, but he quickly pushed it away. It was about two-day trip to Kish, with one night to spare. The sooner he could return home, the sooner he could take his punishment, get rid of the child, and forget all of this. All of it. The wheels loudly squeaked against the ground.


    * * * * * *


    The evening sky faded away into purple and blue and orange. The sound of an approaching river filled his ears. Utua stretched his back and glanced behind him. This would be a good place to make camp, and they would be on their way by morning. The next city was only three miles away.


    He climbed off Angus and slowly approached the back of the wagon. It had been quiet for the last couple of hours. After lighting up a torch, Utua held it up over the crates and barrels crowding the space. He could see a filthy bare foot visible behind a wooden barrel, which he carefully moved the side. The boy flinched in the dull light and scooted away. He had most likely fallen asleep and woken up when the wagon stopped.


    Utua pursed his lips. He fumbled into his bag and pulled out some bread. ¡°Here.¡±


    The boy crawled behind the box again.


    ¡°You need your strength. I said come here.¡±


    No reply.


    Utua gritted his teeth in frustration. ¡°Fine. But when you get hungry, don¡¯t go crying to me.¡± I should at least get him to drink something, he thought. He reached for his water skin and uncorked the lid. ¡°You need to get this down.¡±


    The child¡¯s large dark eyes widened. He resembled a wild animal¡ªlong tangled hair all over his face, snot coated around his nostrils, dirt caked around his flesh. He began to scream as Utua lifted him off the wagon, kicking and biting. Ignoring the pain, he tried to carry him to the river, cursing each time the boy¡¯s long nails dug into his skin. Securing him in his arms, he managed to pry off the lid of the water skin and place it over the boy¡¯s mouth.


    After a few moments of struggling, the child began to swallow the water. Utua positioned the water skin in his arms and sighed with relief as he rapidly gulped it down. He winced at the shackles around his wrists, the purple bruises that had been left on his skin.


    The young boy wiped his jaw with the back of his hand. He remained in Utua¡¯s arms in a daze, still staring at the river, placing his thumb in his mouth. Before Utua could say anything, there was a gurgling sound, then the rancid smell of dark brown vomit drenching his tunic. As the child continued to cough, lines of saliva slipped from his mouth.


    Utua cursed as he set the boy down on the grass, who curled up into a ball, already half asleep. By the time the stars were up in the sky, Utua had managed to get a fire going and washing his shirt in the river while Angus was feeding on grass, munching between her jaws. He muttered to himself as he set his shirt out to dry, and sat down against the wheel of the wagon.


    The boy¡¯s chest lightly rose and fell, the warm orange light of the fire illuminating the side of his face. His mouth was slightly open, his thumb still stuck into his mouth as he laid curled up sideways on the grass. His long, matted dark hair was sprawled out upon the ground like a fan.


    Utua gazed at him for a moment. With a heavy sigh, he reached for his cloak and gently tucked it around the child¡¯s frail figure, who had begun to shiver. This was for Matthias¡¯ sake, not for his own. He needed to get the child to him alive. Then he could wash his hands free of it. The boy was huldim¡ªanother wretched creature that he had no strength for. Matthias would deal with him the best way fit.


    He tried to convince himself of this.


    * * * * * * *


    Something tapped his nose.


    Utua turned in his sleep, mumbling. There was another tap, and as he opened his remaining eye, he could make out the boy¡¯s filthy face only mere inches away from his own. Utua groaned and rubbed his face as he sat up. It was about dawn, a murky fog settled over them both. The ashes of the fire had risen in the air, leaving a smoky presence.


    The boy jabbed his finger directly into Utua¡¯s left eye socket, where his eye had been gouged out. He began to poke harder.


    ¡°By the gods!¡± Utua bellowed. ¡°Away.¡±


    At the sound of his voice, the child jumped and ran underneath the wagon, his chains rattling with each step. Utua sighed and straightened up, before finding his shirt finally dried by the river where he had left it before. He yanked it over his head and beckoned to the boy with one hand, reaching for the bag of dried bread he had bought down at Ur.


    ¡°Here,¡± he said. ¡°Come eat.¡±


    The boy shook his head.


    ¡°Enough stubbornness.¡± Utua pointed at the bag. ¡°You need your sustenance.¡± How he wanted this trip to be over. He broke off a large chunk of bread and held it out. ¡°Come.¡±


    After a moment of silence, the boy took the bread in his right filthy hand. Instead of eating it, he crawled from underneath the wagon and slowly approached Angus, who was drinking from the river and had been unhitched from the wagon. The wind caught his long hair, blowing it over his frail shoulders as he awkwardly held out his piece to the donkey. She snorted, reached out and accepted the treat, nuzzling her nose against his shoulder.


    For the first time, a small smile broke out across the boy¡¯s dirty face. His large dark brown eyes studied the donkey¡¯s. Utua stood up and went over to them, holding the bag in both hands. The young slave¡¯s shackled hands tenderly went to the animal¡¯s head, but they hesitated once more. Angus suddenly brayed, showing all of her yellow teeth.


    ¡±You need not fear her,¡± Utua replied. ¡°Go ahead. If you do not want your breakfast, she will take it.¡± He shook his head as he picked up his cloak from the ground. ¡°Her name is Angus.¡±


    ¡°Angus?¡± the boy whispered.


    It was a very quiet one. Utua looked up with great surprise. He had believed that the boy did not speak Akkadian, let alone understand the language, as he had only heard him softy utter strange words to himself. Perhaps he had picked up a few sentences overseas. But the boy was already petting the donkey¡¯s mane, ruffling her ears, which she seemed to enjoy very much. The sight brought a warm sensation to Utua¡¯s throat, and he had to look away.


    ¡°Yes, my child,¡± he said. ¡°Angus.¡±

 Two

    AKKADIAN EMPIRE


    2130 BCE


    Hirom could still taste the fire.


    It swallowed up the sky, the trees, the birds, the people around him, engulfing everything into a murky orange, reddish hue. His three older brothers had disappeared into the smoke. He heard his younger sister crying, and although he wanted to go to her, he could not, for the smoke blocked his nose and mouth. She was still in their house, which had also been lit up in flames, set off by the torches of the towering soldiers that had spilled into their tiny village like ants.


    It was nighttime.


    He had woken up in a daze¡ªhalf asleep but his heart was also fluttering, like he had been running for a very, very long time. He felt his mother¡¯s smooth hands quickly guide him outside of the burning house. She had knelt in front of him, as he coughed and coughed and coughed before disappearing into the orange yellow flames spilling out from the doorway of their home. He wanted to ask where his father was, but she fiercely told him,


    Qavah.


    Hirom screamed for her to come back, but the only reply he received was the sound of crackling wood and the raging flames as it continued to hungrily devour the wood and clay¡ªbits that made up their small but humble hovel. He screamed at her to come again, yet his voice was swallowed up by the pounding hooves of the horses around him and the shrieks and wails of his people.


    A towering man wearing thick armor stood over him. His eyes blazed like coal, visible behind the large helmet on his head. His purple clock blew in the wind. Surely, he was a god himself. Hirom, dazed by the brightness of the flames, attempted to flee, but the soldier¡¯s towering grasp lifted him off the ground. His tiny legs dangled beneath him, and he could almost hear the man chuckle, speaking a strange tongue that he knew nothing about. In a fit of desperation, he sank his teeth deep into the man¡¯s forearm. There was a shout from the man, a sudden pounding in his head, before the world became swallowed up in complete darkness.


    * * * * * * *


    Hirom¡¯s eyes fluttered open.


    His small wrists were bound in chains that dangled down to his muddy bare feet, which were also shackled. He kept shivering, looking about at the wooden structure enclosed around him and hundreds of other bodies squeezed in the humid space around him. Like fish, they struggled to breathe through a crack present in the rotting boards of the ship, their shackles and teeth gleaming. Their fingers clawed and dug into their flesh, leaving behind dark red marks on their skin.


    To Hirom, they were r¨±?¨¡s¡ªfor he could neither see their faces¡ªtheir bodies were empty black shapes that contorted, their eyes white spheres that dimmed away over time. The stench of urine and feces was overpowering to the point that a heavy dizziness settled over the young boy. He did not know this place, or where he was going. He longed to search for his mother, or sister, or any of his brothers¡ªhe begged her to come back and bring him home, that he would never fight with either of them again. He cried each night, curled up in a ball, over washed by the moans and cries of those locked in this small place with him.


    The constant swaying of the hull made his stomach hurt. Each day was a battle. His lips were dried and cracked; although the strange men on the ship brought water a few times a day, he found himself unable to keep it down. Let alone anything, for that matter. His tunic was drenched in vomit, and his bowels had given up, leaving a sticky mess below him.


    His throat burned from the bile pooling up behind his throat, and most of the time he was far too weak to even keep his eyes open. He recalled being next to a young woman, shackled next to him, her clothing in tatters. She tried passing him small bits of bread and meat that she had been saving over time when the traders weren¡¯t looking, to get him to sip water. He struggled to make sense of her words, as she spoke to him in Greek. Mostly, she communicated with her hands.


    By the end of the third night, she had fallen asleep. Hirom had tried to shake her awake, but she did not respond. Her body had begun to show strange colors, her eyes staring at the feces covered ground for an eternity. The rats had begun to consume her flesh. Flies had collected around her mouth, and her skin was bubbling at the edges. Two guards dragged her out and tossed her into the ocean, where it landed with a heavy splash, swallowed up by the thick white foam.


    * * * * * * *


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡±


    Hirom immediately shrank back behind the boxes in the overcrowded wagon, placing his thumb into his mouth. A large, burly man with thick, curly blonde hair stared back at him, wearing a long, velvet robe and jeweled sandals. His face was red, cheeks sunken in, cold blue eyes staring into the depths of his soul. They were the very ones that Hirom wanted to get away from¡ªreminding him of the soldier¡¯s the night his village was lit ablaze.


    ¡±Utua. Explain yourself.¡±


    There was a pause, then a shadow. The sound of sandals crunching against gravel. Even from behind the golden haired man, the quiet presence of the other figure made Hirom breathe a little easier. Utua gave the boy a fierce look of disapproval, before bowing politely. The sound of birds chirping filled the crisp air as the warm sunlight spiked over him. Although Hirom couldn¡¯t see quite well over the boxes, he realized that the wagon was in a vast, green field. With multiple fields, full of ripe crops. On the left side was the largest home he had ever seen¡ªmade out of marble, clay, and precious stones. It glowed in the early morning light.


    ¡±My dear lord Matthias, I plead for your forgiveness,¡± Utua quietly said. ¡°Nearly all of the best slaves had been sold off at auction at Ur. This was the only one¡ª¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡±You dare give me a weakling?¡± Matthias shouted. ¡°You stupid old man. You ought to be hung from the gallows for refusing to obey my orders.¡± With a swift motion, he pulled Hirom roughly from the boxes, causing the boy to release a high pitched scream. ¡°Don¡¯t you see how filthy he is? If he spreads a disease to me, my wife, or any of my children, we shall all perish. All over a dirty slave.¡±


    Utua kept his head low. ¡°Forgive me.¡±


    Matthias narrowed his eyes. ¡°As punishment, you are to work an additional night in the fields for the upcoming weeks.¡± When he released the child, he landed upon the ground with a thud. ¡°Get this creature out of my sight. If he crosses paths with me again, your workload with be doubled.¡± After giving Hirom a dark look, he strode towards the house, where a woman wearing a bright blue dress appeared at the doorway. She started to ask him a question, but he roughly pushed past her.


    Utua released a heavy sigh and bent down to scoop the boy into his arms. But before he could, Hirom took off running through the fields. He could hear the man¡¯s voice echo through the plants that swayed in the wind.


    ¡°No! Stop!¡±


    * * * * * * * *


    Hirom could taste the flames.


    The smell of burning flesh seeped into his nose and throat. He could hear the sound of the horse¡¯s hooves thudding against the ground, even harder then his own bare feet against the dirt soil. He slammed into a woman balancing apples over her head just turning around the corner. There were smaller houses, much more like his village, the smell of smoke rising from the campfires pitted into the ground. His chains bounced and swung into him, bruising his flesh.


    And that awful man would return.


    Qavah.


    He longed to hear his mother¡¯s voice. But it was Utua¡¯s hoarse one that rang out again as he scrambled up a hill, past the many men and women bent down in the fields, their backs twisted underneath the merciless sun, barely lifting up their brown faces from the towering plants to meet his tear stained one. It didn¡¯t take him long to realize that he was in a courtyard¡ªthe ground elegantly paved with patterns of different stones with vibrant colors. The sound of trickling water met his ears, next to the marble statue of a man with his arm pointed towards the sky.


    Nearby this strange statue was a large tree, its branches stretched out towards the sky. Golden leaves blew in the warm wind. Underneath its shaded path sat a young boy, his back slumped up against its large trunk. His hair matched the color of the leaves¡ªand he was exceedingly pale, his large blue eyes focusing on Hirom, who had stumbled in front of him, nearly toppling over in the fountain. Immediately, he stood up, his pale face full of great surprise. The ball that he had been callously kicking around before in the wide, empty courtyard now rolled into the bushes, whatever meaningless game that he had conjured up in his mind forgotten.


    Both children stared at each other.


    It was only for a brief moment, but the other boy continue to gaze at Hirom in awe. Never had he seen someone so close in age as he. As the son of a great master and the youngest out of seven, he was forbidden to go to the slave quarters, let alone even dare converse with any. What small number of children were there amongst the slaves, was minimal, as they were always sold off in a couple of weeks. He¡¯d watched them be loaded up in the wagon from his bedroom window, sobbing and yelling as their parents were dragged away and whipped at the wooden post for attempting to interfere. The cart would pull away. Mother told him not to look at such things, but he did.


    Telal had never seen them again.


    His father made sure to keep it that way to discourage him from going to the quarters, as he had claimed it was a dangerous place. He had disobeyed once. It had stirred up his wrath, placed fear into his own son, who had seen but only five moons. He¡¯d spent most of his days either inside the large villa reading dusty scrolls that made him sneeze, learning the arts, or accompanying his father to the cities whenever he wanted him to. His father liked ships. Telal had been on a couple of before. Mother had explained that his brothers, who were many moons older than he, went on great adventures in the sea, conquering pirates and enemies alike. He had only met four of them, and that was a couple of years ago. He almost knew nothing of them, and they hardly, if ever, visited.


    He was alone quite a lot.


    But before Telal could say a word, Utua appeared from over the hill and snatched up Hirom from behind, who had been distracted as well in that moment, let out an earth shattering scream, kicking and flailing his bare arms and legs. He struggled to break free from the man¡¯s grip, shrieking at the very top of his lungs. The soles of his bare feet were black¡ªblacker than the coal the house slaves used to stoke up the fire. With his tiny fists, he began to beat down upon Utua, who winced with discomfort.


    ¡°Master Telal,¡± Utua shouted over the noise, before attempting to give a bow. ¡°Forgive us.¡±


    In Utua¡¯s presence, young boy immediately lowered his head and looked away, kicking at a pebble with his left leathered sandal. He tried not to act interested around the old slave; however, his heart was thudding with anticipation¡ªhope that such lonely days were coming to an end. A possible playmate. A shiver ran down his spine.


    ¡°I ask your lordship to forgive us for our sudden intrusion,¡± Utua continued, dodging Hirom¡¯s blows. ¡°I do not wish to disturb you.¡± Gritting his teeth, he carried the screaming child down the hill in his arms, cursing the gods in his head with each and every step.


    Telal waited until they had gone a great distance, before edging towards the right side of the courtyard. With both small hands, he climbed over the stone ledge. But before he could get a better look at the strange boy, he heard his mother¡¯s sharp voice at the side door of the house. He flinched and abruptly turned. She was dressed in a flowing blue gown, which swayed around her jeweled slippers. The golden band around her ankle shone brightly in the sunlight.


    ¡±Telal. Get away from there. You could fall.¡±


    The child sighed.


    ¡±Return down at once,¡± she ordered.


    Reluctantly, he obeyed.


    His mother knelt down and made him spin around to face her as she began to wipe the sweat and dirt from his sunburned face. She made a noise of disapproval with her throat as she felt his forehead with the back of her palm, which he roughly pushed away.


    ¡°Are you feverish?¡±


    ¡±No,¡± Telal sharply said. ¡°I am not.¡±


    His mother did not look convinced. ¡°You go inside. It is time for the noon day meal.¡±


    ¡°Can I stay out here for a bit longer?¡±


    ¡±You know that that your teacher is waiting. Come, let us get ready.¡± She extended out her hand. ¡°And you need to get cleaned up.¡±


    Reluctantly, Telal accepted her palm. When he was sure that she wasn¡¯t looking, he cast one last glance at the vast fields behind him, where Utua and Hirom were only mere dots, before slipping into the dimly lit house.

 Three

    AKKADIAN EMPIRE


    2130 BCE


    Everything hurt.


    Utua¡¯s back, legs, and knees were achingly sore from running. The boy was very quick on his feet¡ªremarkably fast for a child. Of course, a slave¡¯s work is never truly finished, as they say. His brothers and uncles and parents had repeated this to him ever since he was old enough to walk. But to have additional aches on top of a day¡¯s labor was too much to bear. And even worse, he was on Matthias¡¯ bad graces. He wheezed he secured the crying boy in his arms, who was continuously trying to squirm his way out of them. It was a struggle to catch his breath.


    He couldn¡¯t help but wonder how the boy could have so much energy, despite not having anything but water for the last couple of days. One thing he was sure of¡ªhe needed to find a way to get the child off his hands¡ªkeep away from the Master. He couldn¡¯t take him out and abandon him in the woods, as his conscience would never allow it, nor find a way to return him to the trader. The boy was a representation of his failure; of lost wages and time and effort. A missed opportunity to please his Master.


    A disappointment.


    By the time he had reached the bottom of the hill, a plan had formed in Utua¡¯s mind. Sweat spilled down his forehead and leaked into his eyes, causing them to burn. He could feel the gaze of the other slaves upon him as he made his way down to the very last row of the slave quarters; a shack more run down than the rest. Hirom¡¯s screams were giving him a headache. He anxiously knocked on the door.


    The child gave him a kick into his ribcage.


    Cursing under his breath, Utua banged louder with his fist. There was a fumbling around inside the shack, and as the door spun open, a short, twisted woman peered out. Her hair was hidden underneath a shawl, and despite being thirty moons, permanent lines were etched into her dark face. She tucked it around her arms and scowled once her gaze fell upon Utua, who was struggling to keep the child into his arms. She folded her arms.


    ¡°Leonara,¡± Utua gasped. ¡°You must¡ª¡±


    ¡±After you have blatantly borrowed from me and never returned to me what was mine?¡± the woman snapped. ¡°You old fool. You owe me more debts than the remaining years in your life. What did you do now?¡± She scowled as she moved to close the door. ¡°Let me in peace.¡±


    ¡±Wait!¡± Utua stuck his foot inside to block it. ¡°Please, have mercy upon me. I ask that you stay with this child for a few days. I need to return the donkey and the wagon back to the stables. They are still upon the hill. I cannot take him with me for the night.¡± After a quick sideways glance, he spoke in a low tone. ¡°I must go. Please. You must take him.¡±


    ¡±Why should I? Is he not your responsibility?¡±


    ¡±Yes, but¡ª¡± Utua rubbed his eyes with his hand. ¡°I will tell you all that I know later. I must return to the fields, Leonara. I cannot stay.¡±


    Leonara wrinkled her nose at the boy, who was whimpering, but had finally calmed down. Snot was smeared across his mouth. ¡°Whose offspring is this?¡±


    ¡°If you do this for me,¡± Utua quickly said, ¡°I shall pay you back in full. And I will double that portion. I only need a little more time.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡±Please,¡± Utua whispered. Despite him only having one eye, Leonara could see the panic behind it. ¡°Please. Matthias shall beat me raw. Leave me bloody. I¡¯ve much rather me than the boy. Keep him out of sight.¡± He roughly shoved the crying child in the stunned woman¡¯s arms. ¡°The gods bless you.¡±


    Leonara watched as Utua wearily stumbled down the dirt path. She shielded herself behind the cracked door as one of the overseers grabbed him by the arm and roughly led him down towards a wooden post. Upon shutting herself in the poorly lit and cramped hut, she was startled to see that the boy was already fast asleep. With a grunt, she laid him upon her tiny bed and tucked a thin blanket around his frail form. Carrying an oil lamp across the room, she returned to her work at the table and rubbed her sore eyes as she began to shell the large baskets of hardened peas. Time and time again she glanced at the child, who laid so still she had to check a couple of times to ensure that he was still breathing. His thin chest rose and fell.


    She knew better than to get attached.


    She wouldn¡¯t dare. All five of her own children had been stolen away from her in the middle of the night, one by one. Her own husband had passed away a couple of years ago, dropped dead in the middle of a grueling day¡¯s work. This boy was no different, and those who were fortunate enough to still have their children with them were only delayed the inevitable. In Leonara¡¯s mind, it was far more merciful to have a child stolen at birth than to watch them grow only for them to be ripped away. She had nothing of her family. Only their memories, their hopes and dreams, all scattered amongst the fields like the dust that settled upon her clothes and hair each day. This child, like themselves, would be sold in a day.


    Picking up a green bean with her calloused fingers, Leonora loudly chewed at its leathered surface until she scoffed and shook her head in disgust. Then she chuckled.


    Utua. What a foolish man.


    * * * * * * *


    Leonora woke up in the middle of the night with a start. She had fallen asleep with her head against the table, nearly completing eight baskets full of shelled peas. An awful crink had settled at the back of her neck, and she nearly shrieked upon discovering that the boy was standing right by her side, staring at her in the dark. She scrambled to her feet.


    ¡°By the gods!¡± she snapped.


    Upon her reaction, the little boy¡¯s bottom lip trembled as a few tears escaped down his round face. As he sniffled, she noticed that a foul smell had settled upon her soaked sheets. Gagging, she flung open the door to escape the heavy stench. The cool night air seeped into her hut, and, after catching a few breaths, she struggled to light her lamp. Upon raising it up with her arm, she could see that the child was covered head to toe in vomit. Her eyes hurriedly wandered over to her peas¡ªfortunately, not a single basket had been tainted. Leonora wrinkled her nose. How could she allow such pestilence in her own home? What was she even thinking?


    Deep down, she truly hoped Utua was getting his backside torn off for this. Every lash he received, she decided, would be truly deserved.


    ¡°Come,¡± she declared.


    The child suddenly screamed and began to run away, but Leonara roughly caught him up in her powerful arms and marched outside. After filling up a wooden bucket with cold water, with a rag, she scrubbed him from head to toe, making sure to burn his filthy rags in a fireplace, poking at it with a twisted stick until it was ash. He cried until he was pink in the face as she rinsed him off. Twice he tried to scramble out¡ªall while wailing. She made him sit back down in the water, muttering to herself. His howls were earth shattering; and she told him to hush; as the slaves in the neighboring quarters would be awakened: The water very quickly became black; and she had to draw multiple buckets from the well until her arms burned.


    ¡±Na??,¡± Leanora grumbled.


    Once he was dry and in some clean clothes, she rubbed animal grease upon his arms and legs, so that his skin would not crack and peel. As she was dragging her dirty sheets from the bed, he watched her from the open doorway of the hut, his thumb into his mouth.


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    Crickets chirped in the air.


    ¡°Ah, so you shall stand there and let me do all the work. Not only must I clean after Utua¡¯s mess, but your own as well,¡± Leonara snapped, placing a bucket of water onto the grass and scrubbing the stained sheets. She pointed a soapy finger at the child, glancing up from her washing bat. ¡°I do not know when Utua will return, but I do not allow idleness in my home. The city of Kish has no place for laziness. You will make yourself useful while you are here with me. Starting now.¡±


    The child quietly continued to suck his thumb, staring at her. His bare feet were curled against the ground; each toe submerged in the soft dirt. His coarse, brown sackcloth tunic was bunched around his frail waist¡ªan effort to make it fit due to Leonara¡¯s clumsy stitching. Beads of water clung to the ends of his curly black hair, and he was fighting back hiccups. But at least he had calmed down.


    His eyes are much too large for his face, Leonara thought. He probably wouldn¡¯t live long due to his size. No doubt he understood a word she was saying. She decided to try a simple question. ¡°Where are you from?¡±


    There was a brief pause, before he finally spoke. It was so quiet she could barely hear his small voice. ¡°Ifa nimtza Angus?¡±


    Leonara frowned. Clearly, this was going nowhere. Aramaic? Hebrew? Latin? She spoke none of those languages¡ªno doubt one of which was his mother tongue. If he was to survive, he must learn to speak proper. Wiping her wet hands upon her dress, she knelt down to his level and cleared her throat. With her finger, she pointed at her chest. The boy reached for her hand with both of his own, and a lump rose in her throat. No. She was doing this for him. He would be sold in a few weeks, no less then a few days, to a new master, who spoke the same language. One who would be even less forgiving than Matthias.


    It wouldn¡¯t hurt to try.


    His tiny fingers latched around hers.


    ¡°Leonara,¡± she said. ¡°My name is Leonara.¡±


    The boy blinked.


    She pointed again. ¡°Me. Leonara.¡±


    The child pointed at himself. ¡°Leonara.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Leonara said, shaking her head. ¡°That is my name.¡± Gently, she redirected her hands towards him. ¡°You? Your name.¡±


    For a while, the boy paused, like he was thinking real hard. A small smile broke across his face. ¡°Hirom,¡± he whispered. ¡°Hirom.¡±


    Leonara stood up and firmly nodded. ¡°You do not forget what they have called you before. That is a part of you that they can never take away.¡± With her hand, she gestured to her shack. ¡°Go inside and sit still. I shall make you some tea when I am finished out here.¡± The child remained still. ¡°Go on,¡± she urged.


    As he wandered back inside, Leonara rubbed her sore eyes with her hand. She glanced at the moon, which was just appearing through several thick clouds. In the distance, she could see a few dark shadows in the fields.


    * * * * * * * * *


    Within a couple of days, Hirom had picked up a few words of Akkadian, although he spoke very little most times. He was still much too ill to eat, but Leonara attempted to get him to swallow broth and water, which he both brought up. It is truly hopeless, she thought, cleaning up the third mess in a row during the day. He might die soon. But she kept Utua¡¯s promise¡ªmaking sure the child only came with her to the gardens and back.


    To Leonara¡¯s great surprise, he did not seem to get distracted easily. He was an enormous help to during the next following weeks, taking delight in the small tasks she assigned to him, whether that was digging up round potatoes in the gardens, picking grapes from the vineyard, or gathering tomatoes. He always looked amazed as Leonara would swing the large baskets upon her shoulders, giggling and clapping his small muddy hands. Although he stretched out his tiny arms to help, she reminded him that one day, he would be strong enough to help her, though she wasn¡¯t sure if that would be true.


    One morning, he accompanied her to the house, proudly balancing his own basket of apples and pears. It certainly wasn¡¯t part of Leonara¡¯s plan; but the mistress of the home, Sorana, was hosting a large party to celebrate one of her sons returning home from war. Matthias was out in the city for business. Leonara had still not caught sight of Utua anywhere, but she decided to not to burden herself with the thought. Besides, the multiple trips up and down the hill would do good for Hirom¡¯s legs, as she was trying to work them as much as possible.


    Upon approaching the front of the house, Leonara glanced down at Hirom, who was paying great attention to not drop the fruit he carried. ¡°Present yourself,¡± she said in a low voice. ¡°Remember what I told you. Do not make eye contact with them. Do not speak unless you are spoken to. And do you remember what to say when they speak to you? For the master and mistress?¡±


    Hirom looked up at her with his large dark round eyes. ¡°My lord.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    The child carefully balanced the apples and pears in his arms. He scrunched his nose, almost as if in deep thought. After a few moments of silence, he finally answered. ¡°My lady.¡±


    Oh, thanks be to the gods. ¡°Good,¡± Leonara said in a hushed tone. ¡°Very good. Now, come around to the back. You must never let your presence known.¡± She pointed to the ground. ¡°Wipe those feet, and do not dawdle.¡±


    Carefully, Hirom dragged his bare feet against the damp grass. Upon entering the house, the boy couldn¡¯t help but gaze at the elaborately painted walls, tapestries, statues, and fine cushions. The dining room was elaborate, with a long, narrow table overflowing with food. Leonara cleared her throat, beckoning with her hand. ¡°Here. Put those here.¡±


    Straining under its weight, Hirom managed to lift the heavy basket up over the edge of the table. An apple fell and rolled out to the ground, and before Leonara could say anything, Hirom chased after it. He crawled out from under the table, just to see it stop in front of two small leather sandals. A pale hand wrapped around its surface and grabbed it.


    Slowly, Hirom looked up.


    In the patch of sunlight, a white haired boy stood in front of him, still holding out the apple expectantly. ¡°Here you go. You dropped this.¡±


    Startled, Hirom rushed behind Leonara, fleeing to her long skirts for safety. With one large brown eye, he peeked out, only to hide his face once more. Leonara bowed her head, heat rushing to her face. ¡°Master Telal. I wish you and your family good health. I thank the gods for your brother¡¯s safe return.¡±


    To her surprise, a disappointed expression crossed Telal¡¯s face. What on earth could he be wanting in this place? Leonara wondered. And where is Sorana? He should be with her, or at least another servant. It is simply not right to have a child sit idle in a house all day.


    ¡°What is his name?¡±


    Leonara glanced down. ¡°You must forgive us for our manners, my lord. This is Hirom. He knows but little Akkadian, as I am in the process of teaching him our language.¡± After gently pulling her skirts free from Hirom¡¯s grasp, she knelt down next to him. ¡°Remember what I told you when addressing your master. Speak loudly and clearly.¡±


    The young slave hesitated.


    ¡±Go on,¡± she ordered in a sharp voice.


    ¡°My¡­ my¡­lord,¡± Hirom whispered. He took a few timid steps forward, his bare feet silent against the fine carpet, before attempting a clumsy bow and rushing behind Leonara once more. His heart was pounding as he leaned against her, before burying his face.


    Telal slowly smiled.


    Leonara released a deep sigh. ¡°I apologize. He has much to learn. He is a bit shy, and only understands a few words. He shall be more improved the next time, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Can he stay for supper?¡±


    ¡±I do not believe the mistress would allow it.¡±


    Telal looked down. ¡°Oh.¡± He took a few steps toward, a hopeful look appearing in his large blue eyes. ¡°I¡­I can teach him if you¡ª¡±


    ¡±You must excuse us, my lord. We have much to do today, and your mother is expecting company very soon. Once more, I am so very happy for your brother¡¯s return.¡± Leonara grabbed Hirom¡¯s hand, wanting to escape Telal¡¯s longing gaze. She wondered why he kept staring at them so much. What is so interesting about two slaves? He¡¯d been around them every day since he was in swaddling cloths¡ªsurely, this should not be any different.¡°Come along, Hirom.¡±


    In the corner of her eye, she could see Telal quietly following them through the rooms that they passed through, still clutching the apple in both of his small hands, evidently reluctant to eat it himself. He kept glancing at Hirom, like he had never seen another child before.


    Upon exiting the house, the warm sun beat upon Leonara¡¯s back, although she was shivering, covered in a layer of cold sweat. She didn¡¯t dare stop walking. Hirom toddled beside her, his hand still tightly wrapped around hers. Upon reaching the cornstalks, she did not let go until they reached her hut and she slammed the door behind her, breathing heavily. Hirom, comforted by the familiar surrounding, eagerly skipped forward to help shell the peas on her table. Leonara didn¡¯t realize her hands were shaking until she looked down at them.


    She would return the boy to Utua.


    Tonight.

 Four

    AKKADIAN EMPIRE


    2130 BCE


    Utua¡¯s calloused hands gripped the wooden handle of his scythe. Despite how hot the day had previously been, the cold night air sent shivers down his scarred back. He coughed violently, sneaking a glance at the overseer Bou, who leaned against the trunk of a worn elm tree at the eastern edge of the rice fields, keeping a never ending gaze on the very few men who were in this field with him. Flies buzzed around the slave¡¯s head, and he slapped at them one by one, even though the large red bumps on his muddy arms and legs were multiplying by the minute. The water around his ankles made his teeth chatter, but he only worked faster. With fifty-five moons under his belt, he knew that Matthias could never sell him¡ªhe was his most valued slave. He was faster, more diligent than the younger men around him, who tired easily.


    And Bou knew it.


    As he continued to hack and cut at the matured rice crops, Utua tried to remind himself that he had only a week left of this. He had taken his punishment with grace. The fresh blood on his back glistened in the moonlight, but he wore it with pride¡ªnot a single sound had escaped from his mouth, not even when the lash had struck him. He wouldn¡¯t give Bou the satisfaction. With a grunt, he bent down to scoop up a large pile of the rice stalks from the row he had harvested when a pebble struck the back of his head. With a grunt, he turned around.


    ¡°Pssst!¡±


    Utua squinted his eyes. A dark shadow was crouched behind a group of nearby bushes. After making sure that Bou wasn''t looking in his direction, he crept through the towering rice stalks, the only sound water gently being sloshed around his bare feet. His muddy hands cleared the leaves, and he could make out Leonora¡¯s flushed face amidst the dim light. She was breathing quite heavily, like she had been running for a while. Fast asleep in one of the crook of her arms was the boy; his curly hair pressed against her shoulder.


    Something stuck Utua¡¯s left cheek, the stinging blow leaving fire across his skin.


    ¡°Ouch!¡± he cried. ¡°What was that¡ª¡±


    ¡±Are numbers perhaps foreign to you?¡± Leonara sneered. Her eyes were bloodshot as she lowered her right palm. ¡°Have you forgotten to count properly? You liar. You said a few days. It has been three weeks.¡±


    A tightness settled across Utua¡¯s chest once his eyes fell upon the sleeping boy. The Canaanite child. He gritted his teeth and rubbed at his stinging face, clenching his jaw.


    ¡°I have kept my end of the bargain,¡± Leonara continued. Her eyes were wide with fury. ¡°I have done the best of what I could, after you dumped him in front of my house. Now you must keep up yours.¡± Before Utua could react, she had shoved the boy into his arms. ¡°He is no longer my responsibility, you fool. You were the one who brought him here.¡±


    ¡°Keep your voice down,¡± Utua said in a hushed tone, glancing backwards. ¡°Do you want the both of us to get into trouble?¡±


    ¡°You are indebted to me,¡± the woman snapped. ¡°Trouble is the only thing that you are made out of. He is yours. Yours only.¡±


    ¡°I ask you give me a couple more days.¡± Utua silently cursed under his breath, although his heart was thudding. He had to come up with another plan, and fast. ¡°I simply cannot¡ª¡±


    ¡±Do you think that I care what you can and cannot do?¡± Leonara took a step forward and shoved her index finger deep into his chest. ¡°I am unable to take care of the child anymore.¡± Her voice slightly choked. ¡°I won¡¯t do it again.¡±


    ¡°But where shall he go?¡± Utua asked in a low whisper, adjusting the boy in his arms. ¡°If Matthias sees him, he¡¯d likely be killed or sold. He won¡¯t last a minute in the fields.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do with him.¡± Leonara turned away, glaring at the fireflies appearing in the pitch darkness. ¡°Keep him busy.¡± Her bottom chin trembled, but her eyes narrowed. ¡°That is all I ask of you. He is focused and a quick learner. Give him a simple task, and he won¡¯t turn an eye towards it. Mind him.¡±


    ¡±I already told you, the Canaanite cannot¡ª¡±


    ¡±His name is Hirom.¡±


    A brief moment of silence passed between the two. Utua placed a hand on the back of the boy¡¯s curly hair, but kept his gaze on Leonara. She blinked a couple of times, before exhaling. Without another word, she disappeared in the dark, lifting up his skirts to climb over through the tall reeds. Utua gazed at her for a few moments, before shaking his head in disbelief. He placed the boy down upon a pile of soft, tall grass, picked up his scythe, and continued hacking as before. Bits and pieces of rice stalks flew out, but he did not look up, not even as the sun began to rise. His mind was spinning, his head sore.


    * * * * * * * *


    Hirom slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes.


    His legs were itchy, and he bent down to give them a great scratch, digging his nails into his flesh. After releasing a great yawn, he blinked and realized that he was not in Leonara¡¯s shack. This place was darker and colder. Tinier. Much uglier too, with many cobwebs that hung from the corner of the slanted ceiling. He was on top of an old mat stuffed to the brim with hay and grass. The room had two clay jars on the floor, and a similar mat on the opposite side, next to a man sitting on a broken down stool. There was a shadow on his face, and he was drinking from a cracked wooden bowl, wiping his mouth before settling it down on the table. The man¡¯s back was bloody¡ªthick red lacerations moving up and down his spine like a criss crossed motion. It dripped red spots upon the ground.


    ¡±Leonara?¡± Hirom quietly asked.


    The man did not move. He was still.


    Sunlight streamed through the window.


    Hirom scrambled off the straw bed and got to his feet. Breathing quickly, his dark eyes searched the mostly empty, cobwebbed room. It was so small that there was barely enough space for the two of them. And it smelled very bad. But the man continued drinking out of the bowl, taking loud sips. When he finally looked up, Hirom could see that his right eye was missing. His cheeks became flushed, and he abruptly stomped his bare foot.


    The man lowered his head.


    ¡°Leonara,¡± Hirom softly said, pointing at the door. He moved his arm. ¡°Leonara.¡±


    Nothing. Frustrated with the lack of a response, the boy started to head towards the door. But before he could make it past the threshold, the one-eyed man had picked him up. Immediately, he began to kick and stomp, despite how the one-eyed man winced in pain due to his torn back. To Hirom¡¯s astonishment, he carried him outside, the thin trail of red following the both of them. He heard the one-eyed man heavily sigh as they approached the barn. There was a loud bray and snort from a worn down wooden pen.


    A smile suddenly crossed Hirom¡¯s face. ¡°Angus.¡±


    The animal came closer, searching for a treat. Her snout brushed against Hirom, causing him to giggle. A look of dismay suddenly crossed his face when the one-eyed man suddenly lowered him to the ground. Hirom remained very still. Although he did only have one blue eye, it looked like that was all he needed. He pointed at Angus, then at him.


    ¡°I did not tell you my name. It is Utua.¡±


    Hirom studied him.


    ¡±I know Leonara taught you a bit of words when you were with her. I also know that she has taught you not to hit or kick adults. Did she?¡± Utua slightly tilted his head to the side.


    The boy folded his arms and looked away.


    ¡°The words that she taught you. You use them. You understand what I am saying?¡±


    Hirom bit his tongue. This man was scary, even more than the first time that he saw him at the ship. His face was hard, full of wrinkles and scars like the ones on his back. His beard was scraggly, teeth long and pointed, like the bear his own father used to hunt and kill back at his homeland. There was a progressing graying upon his head, and the thick yellow callouses on his palms reminded Hirom of tree stumps. Yet his arms and legs were strong and muscular, similar to a god¡¯s.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Such foreign speech was directly scattered in his brain, but they had to be used to form the question¡ªthe question that he had been waiting to be answered for so long. Angus bleated in the background as they finally slipped out of his tongue. Hirom blinked.


    ¡°Leonara¡­ go?¡±


    Utua faintly smiled. ¡°Ah. No. You see her soon. But you must behave while with me.¡±


    ¡±Leonara?¡± he whispered again.


    ¡°No. Not now.¡±


    Hirom took off running. Once more, he did not get very far, and despite his screams, tears were running down his face. Utua carried him. His mother had abandoned him in this strange place. Leonara had as well.


    He did not understand why.


    * * * * * * * *


    The slave quarters consisted of a hundred men, women with each cramped, wooden shacks built into each other. Although most were either out in the fields or the gardens working, Utua was sure that they could hear Hirom¡¯s screams. The boy always threw a nasty tantrum, when things did not go his way; but he would have to learn eventually, despite being so very young. No doubt he was homesick, and he had the memories of his own kinfolk; but that must be a hurdle each slave must pass, young or old. Each one.


    Utua avoided the other slaves whenever he could. In a strange sort of way, he was greatly relieved that he was ordered to work at nights for longer hours, with a few breaks during the day; although this punishment was soon coming to an end. He¡¯d deal with their judgmental stares, their despicable comments. He couldn¡¯t deal with Leonara¡¯s.


    Enlil, the slave who tended to their master¡¯s horses in the stables, had his favorite insults ready for him each time he stepped out of his decaying shack. Gula, who worked in the kitchen and prepared meals, made sure that the dogs would have the scraps before Utua could even get a piece of bread, Anat¡ªthe chief head of the bricklayers, often encouraged the men to throw whatever they pleased at him when passing by, limping in pain. Leonara would not look in his direction.


    As for Utua, he was losing precious sleep. All he wanted to do was to sleep. He was losing track of time, as well as his senses. As soon as noon arrived, he was due back to the fields, and he had no choice but to bring the boy to the rice stalks for the first time after giving him his breakfast and telling him to eat quickly. But as he exited the barn after feeding Angus and circling around the quarters, panic rushed through him. He searched his shack, Leonara¡¯s, the garden, even the cornfields. Running his hands through his hair, he leaned his torn back against a tree. He struggled to breathe.


    He could not find the boy anywhere.


    * * * * * * * *


    Hirom¡¯s bare feet left prints against the mud.


    Sniffing loudly, he rubbed the back of his hand against his nose. Underneath the hot sun, he crouched between the rice stalks, the water soaking the bottom of his tunic. Where had Leonara gone? Surely, she couldn¡¯t have been so angry at him that she would disappear, leave him with a stranger so quickly. He heard the sound of slaves approaching and peered through the thick green stalks with one large dark eye, watching their bare feet slosh across the water. There was a booming voice of the overseer, the whizzing sound of a whip, a groan, which startled Hirom. Scrambling to his feet, he began to take off as far as he could, tripping and falling and splashing.


    The ground eventually became dry again. He checked the garden¡ªit was empty. He tried to remember Leonara¡¯s door; it looked so very similar to the others. He remembered her smell, the sensation of her arms around him as she picked him up whenever he was too tired to walk. Upon reaching the twisted dirt road leading up towards the grand villa, he took up running the hill, his breaths labored as his tiny bare feet pounded against the ground, kicking up clouds of dirt and soil.


    Hirom¡¯s left heel caught against a rock, causing him to face first into the ground. Overcome with dizziness, he laid on his back and looked up at the sky, a smudge of dirt present on his forehead. He struggled to his feet, before ducking underneath a bush as a slave woman entered inside through the back across the grand courtyard, balancing two large jars of water upon her hips. Following after her shadow, Hirom crept after her and slipped behind a long silk curtain as she disappeared into the next room. There was another low female voice, and the sound of a lyre being played in the background. Where, Hirom did not know.


    But he knew that Leonara must be here.


    Once he was certain that the coast was clear, the young slave peeked out of the curtain. The room was full of many colors, too many to count. Quietly, he walked down the long, still hallway, before approaching a long, winded marble staircase. The air was cooler, and he stood, for a while, confused at the sight of the many rooms, which, while dressed in their splendor and seemed to belong to a king, were completely empty.


    Hirom couldn¡¯t help but gaze at the marble statues in the hallway, great and small. He paused to look up at a bust of a great man, before entering a large, luxurious bedroom. Upon finding no one inside, with great disappointment, he soon found the next one.


    The music abruptly stopped.


    Hirom had placed his hand on the nearest wooden door to peek in when a small noise made him abruptly turn around, pressing his back against it. His dark eyes widened.


    Telal stood at the entrance at one of the rooms, holding a small stringed instrument in his hands, which he slowly set down on the floor. It was evident that he had been standing for a while. Delight was written over his face, and he stared back at Hirom, eagerly, but carefully taking a step towards him.


    ¡°Hello.¡± A large smile broke across his pale face.


    Hirom jumped.


    Telal came a bit closer. ¡±I remember you,¡± he quietly said. ¡°Do you remember me?¡±


    Startled at the other boy¡¯s presence, and especially horrified that he had not heard him come up behind him, Hirom quickly ran into the room and slammed the door, looking frantically about in the room. Telal¡¯s voice was muffled from behind it.


    ¡°No, no, no¡­.wait!¡±


    For a moment, Hirom froze, slowly backing away. As quickly as he could, he slipped behind the full-length mirror by the bed, curling up in a ball behind it. Hugging his knees, he held his breath as the door slowly opened up with a creak. A bead of sweat dropped down his face and landed the floor. He could see Telal¡¯s sandals against the fine rugs as he slowly walked around in the room.


    ¡±Please, you don¡¯t have to hide from me,¡± the boy¡¯s voice faltered. ¡°I won¡¯t tell! I promise!¡±


    Hirom squished himself up as tightly as he could against the wall, his breathing becoming more shallow. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing for a moment that he could shrink to the size of an ant. Biting his nails, he realized there was complete silence in the room. Then there were two more footsteps.


    ¡°I won¡¯t hurt you.¡±


    Hirom, being very cautious, peered out from behind the wooden frame, his dirty hand wrapping around it. Telal stood still, only a few feet away. His smile had faded, but quickly returned when he saw Hirom slowly stepping out from behind the mirror. After a brief pause, Telal spoke again, more softly.


    ¡°Are you lost?¡±


    Hirom shook his head. ¡°I go.¡± Before he could take a couple of steps, Telal stepped in front of him, blocking his path.


    ¡±W..wait! Don¡¯t leave.¡±


    ¡±But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tell me what is wrong. I want to help.¡±


    ¡°Leonara,¡± Hirom replied in his best Akkadian. ¡°Cannot find. She goes.¡±


    ¡°Are you looking for her?¡±


    Quickly, Hirom nodded.


    The other child appeared thoughtful. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen her today. I thought she was outside.¡±


    A devastated look fell upon Hirom¡¯s face. He glanced at the door in despair. ¡°She is my friend.¡±


    For a moment, a deep wave of envy washed over Telal. Taking a closer step, the white haired boy looked down for a moment, as in deep thought. The sunlight spilled upon the window above, casting a yellow glow around them.


    ¡°I am your friend,¡± he whispered.


    ¡±My friend?¡± Hirom asked.


    ¡±Of course,¡± Telal replied. ¡°You and me, we¡­.we look like brothers. Don¡¯t you think so?¡± Both boys glanced at the mirror. ¡°Well, almost. You have much darker hair than me. And eyes. But we look the same in a way.¡± He giggled. ¡°You just have a lot more freckles.¡±


    Hirom studied the glass. ¡°Do we?¡±


    ¡°I think so. And I would never leave you. I will stay by your side. Forever.¡± Telal placed a hand on his chest. ¡°I swear my life upon it.¡±


    Astonished, Hirom turned to face him. ¡±Why?¡±


    ¡°Because that is what friends do.¡± Telal said, smiling once more. ¡°Friends look out for each other.¡± His voice became soft. ¡°Would you like to be my friend? I¡¯ve¡­never had one before.¡±


    Silence.


    ¡±You¡­you understand, yes?¡± the child whispered. ¡°Friend. You and I. Friends.¡±


    ¡±Angry? The mistress¡ª¡± Hirom stammered. ¡°Mistress angry of friend.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no. Mother won¡¯t know.¡± Telal said. ¡°It¡¯s our secret. You can¡¯t tell anyone.¡± Slowly, he placed his index finger against his lips. ¡°Shhh.¡± His blue eyes quickly darted towards the door. ¡°Secret. A secret.¡±


    ¡±Secret,¡± the young slave repeated.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Telal smiled. ¡°Just between us.¡±


    After pondering for a moment, Hirom nodded. ¡°We are friends forever?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Telal held his breath. ¡°Forever and ever.¡± A shadow was cast across his excited face. ¡°Let us shake upon it. That means that it is official. The gods are our witnesses.¡±


    ¡±Official?¡± Hirom asked. He wasn¡¯t sure what the word witnesses meant, either. But it sounded very important.


    ¡°Yes. Father always tells me that a friend makes bad things go away.¡± He internally braced himself as he stretched a hand out. ¡°You are my friend.¡±


    Hirom studied his smooth, pale palm and expecting fingers. After a moment of brief hesitation, he slowly reached out and accepted it.

 Five

    AKKADIAN EMPIRE


    2130 BCE


    A fly collected at the back of Leonara¡¯s neck.


    She couldn¡¯t slap it away. Her hands were shackled against the wooden contraption that pushed each frayed splinter further into her skin. Her long dark hair fell over her face, and she could see bits of her flesh sprayed out on each strand of grass. She was grateful, at least, to be out of sight of the others, the barn, the courtyard and villa. Her fingernails dug into her palms, and although the top of her dress was pushed down to her waist, she could hardly feel a thing. The lacerations across her back were simply another layer.


    Sorana¡¯s shoes crunched against the ground.


    The whizzing sound of the whip hardly made Leonara flinch. Red mist splattered across the dandelions and the ropes to which her calloused hands were roughly bound to. Out in the distance, she could hear the men hard out at work in the fields. Or the women tending to the gardens. Another lash settled upon on her back, yanking out what skin remained. She did not make a sound, merely stared out at the view of the fields ahead.


    Sorana¡¯s breaths were heavy as she finally dropped the whip to the ground. She was a tall, but slim woman, and her attempts at enforcing discipline were amateur, at best. Her pale face was flushed as she stumbled through the grass. A faint smirk crossed Leonara¡¯s lips¡ªto deny her such satisfaction. It always amused her how, given the great deal of masters that she had within her life, this was the worst thing they thought she feared. She could almost laugh right now. It was even better than the pain that now coursed through her body like a raging fire.


    ¡±You ran off,¡± Sorana snapped, after finally managing to take in a couple of breaths. With an aggravated sigh, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. ¡°How dare you leave the premises without permission. And as of a time like this, when my husband is away. Do you wish to bring a downfall to the others? Because I shall limit their rations.¡±


    A bead of sweat dripped down Leonara¡¯s nose. Her dark eyes focused on the grass. After much prayer to the gods and fasting for days, a plan had come to mind. A distant relative of hers¡ªher second cousin dwelled in the city of Sippar, about six miles away. He was a slave, but worked in the kitchen at the home of an important soldier for the king. Small hands would be a tremendous help. It would be a better home for Hirom, and the master of that place known to allow his slaves to receive education. If she could just get the boy over there, before Matthias returned and claimed him as his property. Utua had informed her that he had rejected the boy, but she knew that it would be only a matter of time before he would change his mind.


    She had planned to leave by dawn, return by sunset to make the negotiation. She had just saddled up Angus and was about to make it towards the woods when Bou had found her, dragged her back. Despite it all, she couldn¡¯t help but hold back a chuckle when Sorana had stumbled out, half asleep, her blue eyes wide with rage. Leonara repositioned her knees in the grass. This would not last long.


    It had only been a couple of hours.


    ¡±So you have nothing to say for yourself?¡± Sorana demanded. ¡°Nothing at all? You stubborn cad.¡± She picked up the whip, and Leonara closed her eyes and prayed to the gods that Hirom was anywhere¡ªanywhere¡ªbut in that cursed home. She bit her tongue.


    * * * * * * *


    Utua wearily draped a woolen blanket over Hirom¡¯s sleeping form. To his relief, he had found the boy wandering out in the courtyard, with an odd, but strange expression upon his small face. Almost wonder, like he had discovered something. He did not even appear fazed when Utua scolded him for getting up and leaving so abruptly, and even took his hand as he led him back to the fields. Utua couldn¡¯t make sense of it¡ªnot a single time this day did he cry or fuss or hit at him.


    He had only asked him about Leonara.


    At this moment in time, Utua couldn¡¯t stop worrying. He disliked giving Hirom the same answer, and had repeatedly checked her shack multiple times, refusing to believe the inevitable¡ªthat she had been likely sold. Her place was only empty. His head was heavy with the day¡¯s work, and he desperately needed a few hours of sleep, but he decided to stop by again, like he did every evening.


    Once he made sure that Hirom was asleep, he grabbed his oil lamp and stepped out of the hovel. The cool night air nipped at his shoulders and rags, but he gritted his teeth and made his way in the dark, making sure to remain in the shadows whenever an overseer passed by. His sandals crunched against the dirt as he ducked below the bushes and made his way around the trees, shielding the small flame of the oil lamp in his large hands.


    When he approached the shack, he lingered at the door, spying the orange light that seeped through. Biting down on his chapped lips, he saw a shadow across the wall. His heart skipped a beat¡ªhe would never admit how badly he had missed her. Hesitating for a moment, he knocked on the wooden door. There was no reply, but it opened just a crack.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.As he peered in, his stomach twisted and turned. The oil lamp fell and shattered.


    Leonara was facing away from him, rubbing a thick ointment upon her exposed back. Scars were no stranger to him, but these were thick, dark keloids that seemed to rise above her skin. Her hair was undone, hanging by her waist. She did not react as Utua rushed towards her and grabbed both of her arms with his hands. His blue eyes searched her face.


    ¡°What happened?¡± he whispered. ¡°Who did this?¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do about it?¡± A soft smile fell upon Leonara¡¯s face. ¡°Funny hearing that from you, you fool.¡±


    The dim light fell upon Utua¡¯s face. He clenched his jaw. ¡°This is no laughing matter. You need to tell me. Where have you been? You¡¯ve been gone for days.¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Leonara released a heavy sigh. ¡°The gods must be displeased with me.¡± She cleared a few strands of hair behind her ear. ¡°I must beg for your forgiveness. I was too stubborn and prideful. I was unkind to you. It is because of these things that I am not in your favor.¡± Her face slowly crumpled. ¡°I cannot see this happen again. A child¡¯s fate rests in my hands. And I have failed that child. Matthias will find out about this.¡±


    ¡°You need to tell me who did this.¡±


    ¡±There is no point.¡± Her voice cracked.


    Utua gently tilted her chin towards him. ¡°Matthias will never lay a hand on you,¡± he softly replied. ¡°I will tear him to pieces.¡± He expected her to laugh at him, but she did not.


    They both studied each other for a moment. Her lips gently pressed against Utua¡¯s, releasing a slow, but hungry kiss.


    ¡±Are you sure?¡± Utua whispered.


    Leonara nodded.


    A tingling sensation coursed through his body. He felt her fingers settle across his back¡ªtracing down his back, before falling upon his waist. Her breasts pressed against him as they settled upon on her bed, their clothing discarded upon the ground, breaths shallow.


    Leonara¡¯s flesh was warm and smooth against his own. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Utua was lost. Lost in her hair, her eyes. He studied this woman for a moment, wondering how he had ended up here. The pulsing sensation between his legs was too much to bear, but he was greatly surprised to see her press herself towards him. His heart was thudding, pounding against his chest.


    Utua adjusted his hips as he slowly guided himself into her. Leonara heavily gasped, pressing a hand against the wall, but he continued to kiss the side of her neck. His hands went to her breasts¡ªhe was deeply aching for this¡ªthe loneliness that had crashed upon him after all of these years seem to wash away. A sound escaped from Leonara as he began to deliver slow, careful thrusts. Utua¡¯s face became a shade of red, his lips parted as their hips rose and fell. Leonara gasped again as his hand wrapped around hers. Her hand settled on his buttocks, her lips trapped into a warm smile.


    He drove harder, hooking his thighs around her legs, sending her further into oblivion. His body was glistening with sweat, and a loud, deep moan exploded from his lips, despite his attempts to keep himself quiet. Their hips moved in rhythm, dark limbs tangled around each other as they rolled across the straw mattress. Leonara cried out.


    With one swift motion, Utua scooped her in his arms, thrusting more slowly, but heavier. She groaned, digging her fingers into his flesh, but he buried his face in her tanned shoulders, in the nest of her tangled, black hair. It was mostly dark in the room, with moonlight spilling in the window, but he held onto her, remembering each scar crossing her back.


    Leonara exhaled, her chest rising and falling. She then chuckled as Utua released another moan, his hips colliding with hers. A wave of immense pleasure was building up inside of her, and she had to hold on to steady herself. She gripped the blanket, trying to bite back down. He was kissing her breasts, his lips around the dark, protruding nipples. When his hands were traveling down her hips, the soft hair between her legs, she fought the urge to yell. How on earth was he so good at this?


    Utua clenched his jaw, moaning softly. Leonara was unprepared for the strong sensations that seized her body. Shivers ran down her spine as he reentered her with shallow strokes, before applying gradual force. Several noises came from her, and as she shouted on top of her lungs, she felt him kiss the bump on the back of his neck.


    ¡°Utua,¡± she breathlessly said.


    He immediately looked up, his concerned face flushed. Strands of hair were across his face. ¡°Am I hurting you? I will stop.¡±


    ¡±No, you fool. Don¡¯t stop.¡±


    He faintly smiled with relief¡ªLeonara hated how she liked the way his face was. Even with only one eye, he wasn¡¯t so bad looking.


    ¡°You owe me, you know.¡±


    Utua¡¯s bare hips slapped against hers. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡±You must go to Sippar.¡±


    ¡°Sippar?¡± he managed. ¡°Up north.¡±


    Leonara arched her back. ¡°When Matthias returns, you must figure out an excuse to have him send you down there. You do this for me, please. I¡¯ll write instructions for you, explain everything to you. But you just need to get to Sippar. You must swear it.¡±


    Utua¡¯s body stiffened. He collapsed into her, before holding her in his arms. Leonara rested her head against his chest, and they remained in the dark.


    ¡°I promise. I swear upon my life.¡±


    ¡±Good.¡±


    ¡±Leonara?¡±


    ¡±Hmm?¡±


    ¡°You can trust me,¡± Utua whispered in her ear.


    Leonara didn¡¯t reply. Her throat was too choked up.

 Six

    2310 BCE


    Utua trudged up the winding dirt path.


    A heavy dryness was apparent in his mouth, and the blazing heat did not help. He¡¯d never liked the countryside much, anyway. Born in the Mediterranean, he missed the tropical rains and the white beaches he often saw as a child. Kish was prone hot weather, but due to the lack of rain, the crops had begun to shrivel up and dry. There was only so much water that the irrigation system could provide, before the ground became muddy and soft. Surely, his master would eventually need to find a way to purchase more grain from another city, perhaps one of his neighbors.


    Matthias leaned back against a chair outside of the villa, his eyes halfway closed. Apparently, there was no difference in temperature inside or the outdoors. Next to him was a young woman, fanning a large palm leaf over his head. A clay goblet filled halfway with red wine was perched upon his pale hand, each curved finger covered with a jeweled ring that shone in the blinding light. His nails were manicured, clean to the tip.


    Once he passed the garden, Utua paused. The female slave was fanning frantically, her sunken face coated in sweat, arms moving back and forth. She did not dare look at him, and only kept her gaze upon her hands. Matthias slowly opened his eyes and grunted when he noticed Utua¡¯s shadow. His blonde hair looked even paler in the blazing light. He shifted in his seat and took a long, deep sip of the wine. When he crossed his legs, several spots were visible upon his skin.


    Utua bowed. ¡°Good morning, my lord. I thank you for agreeing to see me in such circumstances. I thank the gods for your safe return.¡±


    Matthias wiped his mouth and scratched at a large bump on his thigh. ¡°State your business.¡±


    ¡±My lord,¡± Utua hesitated, ¡°I have failed you and caused great dissatisfaction. My recent assignment has been conducted quite carelessly on my end. You may remember when I did not bring to you what you asked for.¡± Despite the agonizing heat, shivers ran down his spine. ¡°My punishment had given me the time to properly reflect on my decisions. You remember the boy?¡±


    Using his arms, Matthias struggled to sit up. Utua couldn¡¯t help but notice how he was getting quite heavier in the middle¡ªtoo much feasting and merrymaking tends to do that to one¡¯s girth. He smirked, revealing a mouth of yellow, crooked teeth. ¡°You mean that filth?¡±


    Heat rushed to Utua¡¯s face. ¡°Yes, well¡ª¡±


    ¡±Will you hurry it up?¡± Matthias barked at the young woman. Utua had forgotten she was standing there, due to being so still on the shadows. ¡°I have mosquitos feasting upon me, and you move slower than a snail.¡±


    Frantically, the slave¡¯s arms moved faster. Her breaths were shallow, and strands of her hair fell upon her face. Matthias rolled his eyes and refocused his gaze upon Utua. ¡°You were saying?¡± he snapped. ¡°Get to the point.¡±


    ¡°I was wondering if you¡¯d like to me to sell the boy at Sippar, my lord.¡± Getting down on one knee in the dust, Utua lowered his head. ¡°I understand how the last trade was a sole disappointment. But Hirom could bring a fine penny to the market, and, like you¡¯ve expressed to me before, he is worthless. A weakling, only to take up food and spread disease. Why not let me take him off your hands?¡± He finally glanced up. ¡°You know me to be more loyal to you than any other man or woman here. To get to Ur took three days. Sippar is only one day¡¯s trip. I would not¡ª¡±


    Matthias held up a pale hand. ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough. Rise to your feet, Utua.¡±


    A sharp pain settled in Utua¡¯s knees as he stood. He blinked multiple times to avoid the sweat from trickling down his face and ears.


    ¡°If you believe that I fear that you plan to betray me by running away, that is not the case. Rather, how do I know that you are able to carry this promise to me as promised?¡± Matthias frowned, knitting his eyebrows. ¡°I am a busy man. I do not have the time to keep watch over such a large plantation like this. My father¡¯s business is my own business, and I intend to carry out the legacy that he has passed onto me. A sick slave leads to pestilence. If you do not do as you have promised me, then you shall feel my wrath.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±


    Matthias leaned forward, causing the back of the chair to squeak. ¡°Do you swear upon your life that you shall return with every shekel that you have wrongly taken from me?¡±


    ¡±Yes, my lord. I swear it.¡±


    ¡±Then you have declared it.¡± Matthias set his goblet down with a thump. ¡°In two day¡¯s time, return to me. I shall have a pass written for you. Prepare your wagon and the donkey.¡± He glanced up at the female slave. ¡°Wine.¡±


    The young woman, with trembling hands, set down the palm leaf. Her arms shook a great deal as she reached for a large, clay pitcher. Her fingers loosened around the handle, causing it to shatter across the marble floor, leaving a dark red stain. As she sank to the ground, Matthias rose to his feet and snapped at the two guards standing by the doorway.


    ¡±Give her two hundred lashes.¡±


    The female slave¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°No, no, my lord! Please! Please, no!¡± A high pitched shriek echoed through the courtyard as the men roughly grabbed her by the arms. ¡°Forgive me! Forgive me my lord, please!¡±


    Matthias barely glanced at her direction as he stepped over the mess and approached Utua. ¡°I could do with some new help in the home¡ªthere are plenty of auctions in Sippar.¡± He wrinkled his nose. ¡°Ur is too close by the water, where disease is usually rampant. Sorana would agree as well. I may send Bou with you as an escort. He shall report to me.¡±


    A scream shattered the air.


    ¡±Yes, my lord,¡± Utua quietly replied.


    ¡±Now,¡± Matthias said, retreating to his seat with a heavy sigh, ¡°you are dismissed. But do me a favor, won¡¯t you? Run to the kitchen and fetch someone to bring me fresh wine to clean this up.¡± He scowled at the red puddle expanding on the floor. ¡°It is such a waste.¡±


    After giving him another bow, Utua began his descent down the dirt path, his sandals crunching against the gravel. Just as he was making his way past the villa, he peered up at the second floor, at the top right window. The elaborately designed curtain was slightly parted to the side, but once Utua¡¯s gaze fell upon it, it was released, only being picked up by the hot wind that blew across the fields.


    Utua gazed at the colorful curtain for a while, blinking twice, before rubbing at his hot, sweaty face with both hands. He continued down the hill, trying to drown out the slave woman¡¯s cries that followed him every step.


    * * * * * * *


    Leonara stood up and stretched her back.


    It seemed as if this heat was growing worst. Her thirst was unbearable, and it hurt to swallow or speak. She yanked a stubborn weed out of the earth with both hands, ignoring the pain shooting down her shoulder blades. The ground was as hard as a rock, with cracks spreading across the surface. She¡¯d kept her head low, especially once the other overseers came into sight, patrolling the enormous garden with their horses and whips. If only there was a puddle, just a tiny one¡ªwhich she could scoop up from the ground with her fingers and place in her¡ª


    The sound of a whip whizzing made her jump, resulting in the groan of an elderly man. He hardly flinched, although Leonara could see the pain etched in his dark eyes. He continued harvesting faster with his tool, the dark red earth flailing around the edges.


    A strange smell met Leonara¡¯s nose once the wind caught in her matted hair. She licked her scabbed lips, almost trying to taste it. The scent was faint, at first, but grew thicker until she could no longer ignore it. Setting down her straw basket, she pretended to stretch her back, but, over the horizon, she could make out something black rising in the air, a deep contrast against the bright blue sky.


    ¡°You!¡± the overseer snarled. ¡°Back to work!¡± His horse snorted, pawing at the ground, and she could see his hand reaching for his whip.


    ¡°There¡¯s a fire,¡± Leonara tried to say, but her throat was closed. Something caught across her face, causing dark blood to gush out all over the plants. The man¡¯s shadow fell over her, and dirt was in her mouth and nose, but she managed to get out the words as she pointed her arm towards the horizon. ¡°Fire.¡±


    A red shade fell upon the overseer¡¯s face once he followed her finger. Immediately, he began to ride past the field, his horse¡¯s hooves pounding upon the ground, where the others had stopped planting and sowing seeds, now following the same direction as their gaze. Leonara took a couple of steps forward, her heart thudding in her chest. A great deal of blood was now pouring from the gash from her forehead, but she couldn¡¯t feel a thing. From her recollection, the fire was coming west, down across the kitchen. Past where the rice and corn fields were¡ªUnauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The stables.


    Her tool slipped from her hand as she took off running through the grass as fast as she could. She did not care who was watching, but as she sprinted past the quarters, where many slaves were being herded by the overseers and ordered to fetch buckets of water by the river. Stumbling through the chaos, she nearly collided with a man, who cursed at her, shoving to the side. Scrambling to her feet, she ran and checked her empty shack, then Utua¡¯s hovel. His door was partially open, and despite rushing around, the room was empty. Desolate and black.


    No.


    No.


    Upon stumbling outside, the heat was growing stronger upon Leonara¡¯s face. Coughing and struggling to see through the smoke, she could make out what remained of the burning structure, gasping heavily. The sound of horses neighing and sheep bleating made her head spin. She headed closer to the hungry flames, her bloodshot eyes scanned the opening. Her hands tugged at the bolted door, yanking at it with all her might. The roof caved in, causing burning wood to fall on both sides. She thought someone was trying to pull her way as other began to pour water on both sides, but she fought them off. The boy. Where was the¡ª


    ¡°Leonara!¡±


    It was a heavenly sound.


    She fiercely spun around, her face darkened with soot and cinders. Hirom stood a few feet away, attempting to lug a bucket of water halfway. He dropped it all over the ground and ran to her as Leonara rushed to scoop him up. Her eyes were wet, and she tightened her grip around him. When she saw how muddy his bare feet were, she knew he¡¯d been working in the rice fields. After carrying him a safe distance way from the flames, she made him sit down on a step in front of Utua¡¯s hovel, gently dabbing at his face with the edge of her torn skirts. He gazed at her with his large brown eyes, gazing at the flames.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°You stay here,¡± Leonara ordered, ¡°and do not move from this spot until I come back.¡±


    The boy shook his head and tried to stand, but she grabbed him by his shoulders and made him sit down again. His face crumpled.


    ¡°No, Hirom! You must stay. It is not safe. Do you understand me? You do not leave, no matter what anyone says to you. You stay.¡±


    The child grabbed at her skirts. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me.¡± Water beaded in his eyes as he shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me, please.¡±


    Leonara cupped the left side of his small face with her hands. ¡°I will return, I promise. But you must be brave for me and wait here. I will come back here as fast as I can. It will be only for a little while. I will be back, my child.¡±


    ¡±Do you promise?¡± he quietly asked.


    ¡°I promise,¡± Leonara whispered. ¡°I swear.¡±


    With those words, he slowly released her. She did not have the strength to look in his face as she darted away, her feet pounding against the ground. The orange glow around her blended with the shadows of the people around her once she approached the stable, pouring water upon burning walls. But the flames continued to eat them up, and she kept prying at the door, trying to break apart the knotted rope that was tied around it in some elaborate, complicated fashion. In desperation, she tried to break them off with her teeth, but the strands were barely frayed, despite being partially scorched and blackened.


    ¡°Have you lost your senses?¡± someone shouted, and she struggled to see them through the black smoke. Enlil roughly grabbed her by the arm, yanking her back.


    ¡±Do you have a knife?¡± Leonara shouted, trying to make her voice audible over the roaring flames. Her throat burned. If she could just loosen one of the knots. But they were so tightly done, so very small. Almost like the person had tiny, delicate hands. Then another deep thought crossed her mind.


    Why is there rope around the door?


    ¡±What?¡± the large man asked.


    ¡±I asked if you had a knife.¡± Her eyes widened. ¡°The kitchen. Go and fetch one.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°You need to get away.¡±


    ¡±I can¡¯t.¡± Despite her pleas, Enlil dragged her away. Leonara attempted to pull away from him, but he held her back, and all she could do was watch. She watched as the fire grew smaller and smaller it was only a few flames left flickering on white ashes. When the sun had set, two more slaves dumped the last remaining buckets on the structure.


    Under the trees, Angus was munching on a patch of grass.


    Matthias stood over the hill, talking with a few of his guards. They were standing over a figure in the rubble¡ªthe base where the stables once stood. A figure mere inches from the door, their scorched bones poking up from the ground like demented weeds. Weeds that must be pulled out from the ground and removed, lest they choke up the other plants. Leonara tried to walk over, but Enlil¡¯s face was pale as he made her face him.


    ¡±You stop this foolishness,¡± he said. ¡°You get away from here¡ªthis is no place for you.¡±


    In a daze, Leonara yanked herself free. She stumbled a few feet behind a tree, where she emptied what little remained in her stomach, the sour bile lingering in her throat. Wiping her mouth with her skirts, she prepared to leave when she passed the shadow in the darkness, crouching behind in the bushes.


    She did not see it, but it quietly watched her. It sat very still, gazing at the commotion of people in front of them. The dark shape focused on what was once the stable, then at Utua¡¯s hovel¡ªthe door still open. It then rose to its feet, before silently moving across the empty cornfields, barely making a sound.


    * * * * * * * *


    Hirom removed his thumb from his mouth and immediately stood up once he saw Leonara slowly walking up the path, coughing heavily. Her face and arms and legs were covered in ash, eyes bloodshot, hair tangled about her waist. Her bare feet dragged upon the ground, and her bottom jaw was trembling. She knelt down on her knees and extended her arms out towards him, to his great relief.


    Hirom ran towards the frail woman, and he buried his face in her shoulder. She scooped him up tightly, rocking him silently back and forth, although her breaths were shaky and weak. When he raised his head to look back at her, he was surprised to see tears trickling down her cheeks, gathering at the bottom of her nose. With his index finger, he wiped a couple from her face. But more came.


    His eyes scanned her face. ¡°Are you hurt?¡±


    Leonara clenched her jaw, before a wave of fresh tears came over her. She slowly sank to her knees in the dirt, cradling him in her arms. Hirom held onto her as tightly as he could as her body shook, her heavy sobs filling the air.


    * * * * * * * * * *


    The stench of smoke filled the air of the plantation for weeks. Matthias brought every slave forward, demanding that someone explain the origin of the fire. After a few beatings, his frustration grew. Besides the loss of the stables, none of the animals had been harmed¡ªthey had all been led outside shortly before the flames had taken place.


    Enlil received a severe beating¡ªhe was left for days tied to a pole, lashing after lashing as Matthias accused him of using the fire as a distraction to escape. He was dead by sunrise, his eyes staring lifelessly at the very blue sky, the sky that left no rain. Flies collected around his open mouth and maggots gathered around his flesh. The stench was so bad that the overseers vomited whenever they passed by, but Matthias demanded that he remain there¡ªas an example when slaves destroyed property.


    Leonara passed it each day whenever she headed to the fields. Hirom remained close by her side, and although she would have much rather to shield his eyes from it, she did not; for it was a reality she knew he would have to eventually comes to terms with. One night, Hirom awoke to find her sitting by the window spinning wool, her face and body smeared with soot. She wiped her eyes to hide her tears upon realizing he was looking at her.


    ¡°Oh, I did not mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, my child.¡±


    ¡°Why do you do that?¡± he asked, rubbing his eyes. He jumped off the bed and headed towards Leonara, who crawled on her lap.


    She faintly smiled at him.


    ¡±Why are you sad?¡± Hirom replied, looking up at her. ¡°I don¡¯t like seeing you sad.¡± He snuggled against her. ¡°Tell me where it hurts.¡±


    A lump rose in Leonara¡¯s throat. She gazed out of the window. ¡°You see those stars?¡±


    Hirom nodded. ¡°There are so many.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± the woman whispered, ¡°that¡¯s where people go once they leave us. When they don¡¯t wake up anymore. They are in heaven with the gods. They come out at night.¡±


    ¡±Why?¡±


    Leonara kissed his hand. ¡°To watch over us. To protect us. That is where Utua is.¡± She loudly sniffed. ¡°So he is not really gone. He has just taken another form. And soon, one day you and I will go there and join them.¡±


    ¡±My mama and sister and brother are there too,¡± Hirom said in a small voice. He leaned his head against her chest. ¡°Aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡±Yes, my sweet child.¡± She cleared a few strands of hair away from his face. ¡°Whenever you are sad or lonely, you just remember that they are always with you, no matter how much you miss them.¡± She dabbed her eyes. ¡°Alright, enough of this. Come now. Let us get you to bed. You need your rest for tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Is Utua coming back?¡± He paused. ¡°I miss him. He promised to teach me how to swim.¡±


    The question stopped Leonara in her tracks. After recollecting herself, she roughly bit her tongue. She wiped her nose as she carried the boy back to the straw mattress, before gently singing him a lullaby. Once he drifted off, she leaned her head against the wall, wanting to bash her head up against it.


    * * * * * * * * *


    Lightning crashed and thunder boomed, causing heavy rain to fall outside. Puddles gathered in the mud outside.


    The crackling flame of the fireplace cast an orange glow on Matthias¡¯ face. All the wine he consumed throughout the day pressed against his throbbing head. Just get another one, Sorana had told him, but how could he ever replace Utua? That was his best slave, his hardest working one. His loyal one.


    He fumbled carelessly with his hands, before jumping at the sound of quiet footsteps behind him. His hand instinctively reached for the hilt of his dagger near his waist, but stopped once he saw a small figure standing in the threshold of the room. They were wrapped in a blanket, barefooted, shivering from head to toe. He set down his cup with a thump and turned around with a heavy sigh.


    ¡°What is it, Telal?¡± Matthias snapped.


    The child remained still.


    ¡±I said, what is it?¡±


    Upon his sharp tone, Telal flinched. He swallowed heavily, his large ears sticking out from both sides of his head. Matthias couldn¡¯t stand the resemblance they shared. Out of all of his sons, he knew that this one would grow up to be a failure. How could a future warrior be so timid, so weak in the face of a mere storm? It was despicable. Where was his mother, anyway? Ought she not be tending to him? He best call the guards to come and fetch her. The woman had a habit of becoming distracted quite easily.


    ¡±Papa,¡± Telal whispered, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. ¡°I¡¯m frightened. I can¡¯t sleep. Can I stay here with you?¡±


    Matthias released an exasperated sigh. His head hurt. He did not have the patience for this. ¡°Go to your room, and do not come out until morning. If I see you leave before then, you will be punished. Now go.¡±


    Telal¡¯s face crumbled. ¡°But Papa¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do as I say,¡± Matthias thundered.


    Tears welled up in the young boy¡¯s eyes, but he lowered his head and obeyed. As he turned and began to walk down the hallway, he noticed that his bare feet were muddy.

 Seven

    2310 BCE


    Hirom¡¯s fingers were very sore and raw.


    It all happened so very fast.


    It was a cool morning, with plenty of sunshine. One moment, he was up in the garden with Leonara, digging up potatoes and radishes. The next thing he knew, there was a big, burly man with an enormous beard that grabbed him by the left arm. The overseer named Bou. The one who had tied Enlil to the pole. His eyes were blacker than the night sky, and he towered over the both of them. Hirom squirmed, trying to yank free. He pounded with his tiny fists, but Bou laughed, revealing a gap between his two front teeth.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Leonara demanded, dropping her basket down in the dirt. She reached for Hirom. ¡°Stop it!¡±


    Bou shoved her so hard she landed in the dirt with a grunt. Hirom¡¯s screams filled the air, so he had to raise his voice to be heard. ¡°The master has orders to bring the wrench to the villa. I take him now. You return to work.¡±


    The woman¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You heard me,¡± the overseer snarled. ¡°Now be off with you, lest I whip you raw.¡± He glared at the crying boy. ¡°The master orders it.¡±


    ¡±You cannot do this,¡± Leonara replied. ¡°Let¡­let me go with him. Take me with you¡ª¡±


    ¡±I shall do nothing of the sort,¡± Bou thundered. ¡°He stays up there, to tend to the mistress.¡±


    Hirom tried to break the man¡¯s grip on his wrist. He tried and tried to pry his fingers apart, but it was to no avail. It was after he had yelled Leonara¡¯s name until his voice was raw that he saw her figure grow smaller and smaller on the field. Her hands and cheeks and face were smudged with dirt. She did not try to run after him, so he watched her figure blend in with the trees and bushes and leaves until she had become nothing but a speck.


    Now he was in this courtyard.


    Through his puffy eyes, he could make out the color of each elaborated tile. He could not remember the name of the strange woman who taken him out of Bou¡¯s arms upon reaching the front door of the villa, gently holding him in her own until he ran out of tears. She offered him soft bread and told him to eat, but Hirom stared at it. She didn¡¯t seem to know what to do next, so she led him out here and told him that she needed it cleaned.


    The boy scrubbed each individual tile while on his knees. He could see his reflection in each one, and his shoulder burned, but he kept going faster. He wasn¡¯t sure for how long he had been outside, but he heard the sounds of curtains rustling. The sound made him slightly jump, and he wiped his eyes as Telal¡¯s shadow slowly came into view.


    Telal carried a leather ball in both hands, although his face was downcast. After a few moments of silence between the two, he finally spoke¡ªyet it was very, very quiet.


    ¡°Do you want to play with me?¡±


    Hirom gave him a long look, before dunking the rag into the bucket and squeezing it out. Drops of water landed on the ground. Something hot was building up inside of him. It was the same sensation that he had experienced when he had seen the soldier the night his village was burnt to the ground.


    ¡°You are supposed to answer me.¡± A dark red shade fell on Telal¡¯s pale face. He hesitated for a moment, before taking another step forward. ¡°You¡­.you need to answer.¡±


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    As Hirom stood up, his throat burned. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Telal¡¯s voice wavered. ¡°But why?¡±


    ¡±I don¡¯t want to. I want Leonara.¡±


    Telal¡¯s blue eyes narrowed, although he was attempting to hide the hurt behind them. ¡°You do not tell me no. You never tell me no.¡±


    ¡±I am leaving,¡± Hirom said, throwing the rag on the floor. ¡°I want to see Leonara now.¡±


    ¡±She is not here,¡± Telal said in a low voice.


    As Hirom to move past Telal, he was startled by a blow to the face. He staggered back a moment, before delivering a punch directly to Telal¡¯s jaw. The ball rolled out towards the fountain. After shoving each other, both children landed on the ground, wrestling and kicking. Telal¡¯s left sandal with went flying into the bushes as Hirom struck back to get him off of him. Blood was seeping past his nose. With his right foot, Telal kicked him in the stomach and sank his teeth in his arm. In retaliation, he scratched the top of his forehead, leaving behind a red streak.


    The sound of shouting echoed in the courtyard, followed by two rough arms of a female slave yanking Telal off Hirom, who was breathing heavily. His thin arms and legs were still swinging in midair. The dark look in his blue eyes wavered, before he began to silently burst into tears. Hirom scrambled to his feet and took off running in the bushes.


    He did not get very far.


    * * * * * * * *


    The shed is a very dark place.


    There was a thunderstorm that shook the world. Hirom could hear the corners of the earth tremble. His stomach growled¡ªa result of two days of no food after work as punishment. His arms and legs were bruised on account of the beatings he received. He listened to the sound of the raindrops going faster and faster against the ground.


    He shivered and wrapped his arms tighter around himself for keep warm. The cut on his forehead was still healing. He wondered when Leonara would come for him, take him home. He just wanted to go home. It was incredibly dark, pitch dark, just like the ship that he was on. So far, he had been scrounging around for grass. A blade of grass. But so far, there had been no luck.


    Hirom must¡¯ve dozed off, because he found himself startled awake with the sound of the door opening, followed a jingling of keys. The scent of cold, damp air rushed in, followed by the sound of crickets in the air. He scrambled backwards against the dirt, crouching behind the cobweb covered barrels in the corner of the shed. The figure standing in the moonlight, to his dismay was Telal. His shadow spread out across the ground.


    With his left hand, Hirom picked up a rock and threw it at the shadow. It narrowly missed him and ricocheted off the wooden wall.


    Telal set down a basket on the ground. He glanced at the rock, but did not pick it up. He was soaking wet from the rain, muddy and shivering. He placed the keys on the basket.


    ¡°Go away,¡± Hirom yelled, picking up another rock. His eyes were wet. ¡°Go away.¡±


    ¡°I¡­I am really sorry,¡± Telal weakly said.


    The other child began to throw more stones, causing Telal raise his arms to shield himself from them. ¡°You took Leonara away.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Telal began. ¡°I did not. I wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Yes you would. You are a liar.¡±


    Telal flinched. ¡°No,¡± he whispered.


    Hirom was gasping for air, tears streaming down his cheeks. He dropped the rocks he had collected and curled up in a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. As Telal sat down, both boys listened to the rain for a moment.


    Fog was settling in the air.


    ¡°I did not mean to hit you,¡± Telal said. He looked down at the dirt for a moment. ¡°I am sorry. Will you still be my friend?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Hirom shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be friends with you anymore.¡±


    Water filled Telal¡¯s eyes. ¡°But I am sorry.¡±


    ¡±You¡¯ll hit me. Like the overseers.¡±


    ¡±No¡­I won¡¯t! I promise I won¡¯t.¡± Telal stammered. ¡°It was wrong. Mama told me it was wrong. But I won¡¯t do it again.¡±


    Hirom stood up and brushed the dirt off his knees. As he ran outside in the fog, he could hear Telal shout after him, begging him to come back, but he kept going, tripping over the mud and slippery moss until his voice became quieter, until it was at last silent.

 Eight

    2310 BCE


    Telal lay as still as he could.


    The cold air caused the silk curtains leading into his room to float and sway, barely concealing the long dark hallway outside. He had changed the moment he had climbed through the open window. The guards were casting lots near the front door¡ªthe blood had hardened and dried around his fingers. The stuff was coated underneath his nails. He resisted the urge to bite them, lest the iron taste linger on his tongue and lips.


    His stained clothes were stuffed below his mattress, tucked far enough so that the house slave would not notice as they changed his sheets. Tomorrow, he would take one of the shovels from the shed and bury it in a deep hole. Or perhaps he could throw them in the river, where it would sink deep to the bottom.


    Although his room was covered in every colorful shade, littered with couches and rugs, he had crawled underneath his bed. His shaky breaths filled the silence of his room. The marble floor was hard against his back, but he curled up into a ball, making himself as tiny as he possibly could. He hugged his knees, his bare feet curling and flexing. All he could see were the legs of the fine velvet couch Mother had purchased for him, close to the bed. His lyre and leather ball sat on top.


    He tried to make his hands stop shaking, but he couldn¡¯t. His throat was dry, heart still thudding due to running so fast. He was covered in a layer of sweat, and whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was the blood. It spilled down the walls, the floor.


    * * * * * *


    ¡±My lord?¡±


    The female voice sounded echoey¡ªfurther away at first, before growing closer. There was a few shuffling footsteps, before the shadow grew closer. A strange tapping noise. Then an elderly woman¡¯s face¡ªAmata. Hers was lined with wrinkles, but her dress was clean, although she faintly smelled of vinegar. Strands of gray hair fell upon her forehead; but relief was apparent in her dark eyes.


    Telal avoided her gaze.


    The old slave sighed. ¡°My lord, why are you here? I was worried beyond my wits.¡± She extended a wrinkled hand. ¡°Come, dear.¡±


    Shaking his head, Telal scooted away. His cheeks were slightly stained with salt water, and he sniffed as he adjusted his legs. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡±But my lord, breakfast is waiting for you. Your mother left for the city early this morning,¡± Amata continued. ¡°She has instructed me to take good care of you until she returns this evening. That I intend to do, so there is no reason to remain so difficult. And you know that your father wishes for you to continue your studies today. It is time to rise, lest you be late.¡± She raised a gray eyebrow. ¡°You do not want to disappoint him, no? He is expecting you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry,¡± the child quietly said.


    Amata sighed, before lowering her hand. ¡°Very well. I shall bring it up to your room, to see if you wish to eat later.¡± She straightened up. The veins were visible on her ankles below the hemline of her faded skirts. ¡°But when I come back, I expect you to be dressed.¡± With that, she turned and hobbled out of the room, mumbling to herself.


    After a few moments, slowly, Telal slipped from below the bed, the fine sheets brushing against his back. He caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror; the one where he had made an oath to the gods. His pale hair stuck out like a porcupine¡¯s, and dark circles were under his eyes. No matter how much he tried to rub at them with his palms, he couldn¡¯t seem to make them disappear.


    By instinct, he raised his tainted finger to his mouth, but looked at it in shock. The scent of fresh roasted duck, figs, and bread met his nose, but it made him nauseated. Once he finished washing his himself as well as he could and digging out the grime beneath his nails, he was making his way back down the hallway, staring at his bare feet, when the heavy sound of steps made him look up.


    Bou met his eye and smiled, revealing a row of yellow, crooked teeth. He knelt down and bowed his head. ¡°Good morning, my lord.¡±


    Telal tried to nod in response, although he could barely move. Concern spread across the overseer¡¯s face as he tilted his head.


    ¡±Are you unwell, my lord?¡±


    ¡±No,¡± the boy whispered.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Bou murmured. He scratched his black beard as he stood. The man was massive¡ªtowering over many Telal had seen in the field. ¡°Your father has sent me over here to fetch you. There is a teacher from Akkad¡ªone that your father highly approves of. One who has been through many battles. He wishes for you to learn the art of the sword. Like your brothers before you, he wishes for you to become knowledgeable in this skill. If it pleases you, my lord, he would like for this be a part of your curriculum.¡±


    Goosebumps settled on Telal¡¯s skin.


    Bou¡¯s gaze softened. ¡°Do not burden yourself, my young master. For your father believes that this is the right time to begin.¡± He held out a large hand. ¡°Come, my lord. We must not keep them both waiting in the courtyard.¡±


    ¡±Bou?¡±


    ¡±Yes, my lord?¡±


    Telal hesitated. ¡°He is not hurt, is he?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± After a moment, recognition appeared on Bou¡¯s face. ¡°You mean the Canaanite wrench that dared to attack you?¡±


    ¡±He didn¡¯t¡­¡± Telal attempted. ¡°Is he here?¡±


    Bou yawned. ¡°You must not concern yourself with the matters of slaves. That is your father¡¯s business. Now, we must hurry.¡±


    ¡±Did you hurt him?¡± Telal asked. ¡°It..it wasn¡¯t his fault.¡± Chills ran down his spine. ¡°You did not hurt him, did you?¡±


    Bou exhaled. ¡°You ask too many questions.¡±


    After gazing up at him for a moment, Telal finally accepted his hand. His palm was hard with callouses, but gentle as they continue to walk down the long hallway together. With slave that passed by, the child could barely look them in the face. He tried to keep up with the overseer best he could and ignore the thought of his bloody clothes in his mattress.


    When they stepped outside, the sun blinded Telal¡¯s eyes, causing him to shield his face.


    ¡°Ah, finally!¡± Papa exclaimed. He rose from his chair and set down his cup of wine. Next to him stood a tall, slender man, dressed in strange dark robes. They had both been deep into conversation before turning around. Bou let go of Telal¡¯s hand and urged him forward. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The warm morning sun was just peeking over the trees¡ªwith the sky cast in an orange and pinkish hue. Birds sang in the air, and the water in the fountain was sparkling, glittering like fine gems. Telal walked slower, the elaborate patterned floor of the courtyard smooth and cold against the soles of his bare feet. It had likely been scrubbed earlier that morning¡ªbut by who? Despite the fact that there were slaves working away in the distance, he couldn¡¯t really make out¡ª


    ¡°Telal.¡± His father¡¯s sharp voice was an echo.


    The boy jumped.


    Bou slightly chuckled, causing Papa to glare at him. ¡°Why are you still here? Leave us.¡±


    As the overseer bowed, he gave Telal a slight wink and stepped out into the fields upon exiting the courtyard. Papa waited for his shadow to disappear amongst the tall plants, before moving forward and placing his hand on Telal¡¯s left shoulder. The man in the dark robes was still, with only the wind catching in the fabric. His gray eyes remained fixated on the boy, who kept staring at the ground.


    ¡°Telal,¡± Papa calmly said. ¡°I want you to meet Kuri. He shall be your instructor, and you will be training directly under him.¡± He gave the his son a stern look. ¡°You shall do exactly as he says. I will not tolerate any disobedience.¡±


    Telal did not answer.


    His father released an exasperated sigh and gave the man a sheepish grin. ¡°Forgive us. He is very dull, a bit slow in the head. You may have to exercise additional patience.¡±


    Kuri chuckled and raised a hand. ¡°He is but a child, Matthias. A mountain cannot be climbed in a day.¡±


    ¡±May I go inside?¡± Telal quickly asked, fidgeting with his hands. ¡°Amata asked¡ª¡±


    ¡±No,¡± Papa thundered. He picked up his wine glass and started to walk off, before turning and pointing at the boy. ¡°The lesson is not over until I come out and say it is. And you shall be here, at this time, every morning from now on. Is that clear to you?¡±


    Telal lowered his head. ¡°Yes, Papa.¡±


    With a satisfied grunt, his father stormed off, grumbling as he pushed past a slave carrying in a jug of water from the well. When Kuri¡¯s shadow fell upon him, the boy didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°Here.¡±


    Telal slowly looked up, squinting in the morning light. ¡°Why not a sword?¡±


    Kuri frowned. ¡°Do you wish to cut yourself up into pieces so soon? What a foolish question. You are indeed impatient. But do not worry, my lord. With time, good things come.¡± He gestured with his hand. ¡°Now. Take this.¡±


    After a moment of brief hesitation, Telal¡¯s fingers slowly wrapped around the stick. It was long and straight, slightly heavy. He planned to use both arms, but Kuri abruptly shook his head and moved his left one away.


    ¡°No. Only one.¡± He paused. ¡°Hold it out.¡±


    ¡±But¡ª¡± the child timidly began.


    ¡°No. You need to build up strength in each one.¡± Kuri knelt down to Telal¡¯s level, straightening out his elbow. ¡°Like this. You never want to have your arm crooked. Ever.¡± He began to walk around the boy in a circle, with both hands clasped behind his back.


    Telal¡¯s arm slightly shook. He could make out the stick was slightly curved at the end. The burning sensation was building up in his shoulder. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck and back. His breaths grew heavier.


    Shaped like the edge of a blade.


    Shaped like the knot of a rope.


    ¡±There are two sides to the sword. The offense and the defense. You must learn to how utilize both to successfully overpower your enemy.¡± Kuri narrowed his eyes. He suddenly stopped. ¡°Your sword is weightless.¡± He lightly pressed down on the boy¡¯s arm. ¡°I should not be able to bend this. It should remain firm and still. A rock. Sturdy as a rock.¡±


    In the corner of his right eye, Telal could feel his father¡¯s gaze from the balcony on the second floor of the villa, observing down below and refilling another glass of wine. His tiny fingers tightened around the splintered surface of the stick, although there was a fiery knot settling deep within his shoulder blade.


    The following night, he snuck out to the shed again, carrying another basket full of food.


    It was empty.


    * * * * * * *


    Telal stood in the middle of his dark room, gasping for air. There was smoke coming in. The air was so cold, but hot at the same time. There was no door. No windows. Nothing.


    One side was on fire, being engulfed in bright orange flames. The other was splattered with a deep, hungry red. It spilled from his bed, leaking out from his sheds and climbing on the furniture, the rugs, the curtains. The red was all over his fingers. He scrubbed and scrubbed but it would not come out.


    He frantically scrubbed again.


    It could not.


    You must be as sturdy like a rock.


    In the dark, two figures smiled at him.


    * * * * * * *


    The boy rested his chin in his hand, pushing around the meat and vegetables on his plate. Strands of pale hair fell over his face. He tried to shut out Mother¡¯s voice. His legs dangled from the seat. He tapped his sandal against the floor, before smearing the contents with his finger. She sat across from him, taking another sip of wine from her glass.


    ¡±Stop playing with your food.¡±


    Telal lowered his hands. His fingernails were still faintly outlined with red. He slipped them under the table so he could not look at them.


    It has been twelve days since he left the villa. Since he¡¯s been at the quarters. He¡¯d counted them. His arms were so sore it hurt to raise them over his head. He wasn¡¯t sure he could survive another day here.


    He also wasn¡¯t sure he could look at Mother. She smelled like fine perfume, and her earrings and necklace clashed with the light of the oil lamps in the dining room. It was a cloudy outdoors¡ªlooked like a storm was fast approaching. The slaves had made sure to secure the curtains, so they would not blow violently all over the place.


    You must be sturdy like a rock.


    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry,¡± Telal whispered.


    ¡±You said that last night.¡±


    ¡±I had a large lunch.¡±


    Mother frowned, got up from her seat and knelt next to him. When she placed her hand under his chin, she exhaled. ¡°You need to eat, child.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I shall have¡ª¡±


    ¡±May I go to the courtyard and play with my ball?¡± the boy asked. ¡°Only for a while.¡±


    Mother glanced out the window. ¡°Looks like the storm is coming. You best stay here.¡±


    ¡±I won¡¯t be long. Just for some air.¡±


    She sighed. ¡°Alright. Amata can¡ª¡±


    ¡±She doesn¡¯t have to come,¡± Telal quickly said. He pushed his plate aside. ¡°I will be by the fountain. You can see me from here. When it rains, I can come in. Please?¡±


    A bewildered expression came upon Mother¡¯s face. ¡°Alright. But only for a while, before your father notices. You come straight back and finish your meal. I don¡¯t want you getting ill.¡±


    The boy nodded, leaping from his chair and rushing down the hallway. Sorana rubbed her forehead, before taking a deep breath. After pouring herself a glass of wine from the clay pitcher, she took a few more sips.


    * * * * * * *


    The sky was a dark gray.


    Leaves blew in the air, swirling and falling below. Telal quietly emerged from the door, holding his leather ball. He shivered as another gust of wind nearly swept him off his feet. Tucked beneath his cloak was the bloodied clothing he yanked from his mattress. After double glancing at the villa behind him to ensure that no one was at the windows, he placed the ball at the edge of the fountain, before heading down the fields.


    When he entered the woods, a light drizzle had begun. He stepped carefully over the rocks and sticks protruding from the. chocolate earth; the sound of rushing water only drew him closer. His stomach twisted.


    Lightning flashed in the sky, and the river was rising slowly. Telal drew his cloak closer to himself as he picked up two large rocks, wrapping the blood stained tunic around them. His fingers shook as he finally secured a knot. A fly landed on his face.


    Carefully, he lowered it into the water.


    Bubbles rose from the murky surface, until finally, the bundle began to sink below. Water sloshed around Telal¡¯s ankles as he made his way towards the shoreline and sat on the muddy riverbank. The lush, bright green trees bent toward the powerful winds. He watched the current gradually rise over the rocks. Hot, salty tears slowly dripped from his chin, landing on the ground below. He shook with quiet sobs before burying his face in his lap, hugging his knees tighter.


    You must be sturdy like a rock.


    It began to pour. He was soaked to the bone.

 Nine

    2319 BCE


    The rain came and fell, leaving behind fine puddles that reflected the crystal sky. Flowers shot up from the earth, before slowly shriveling up and crumbling into dust. When droughts struck, hard black jagged cracks spread rapidly across its surface. Plants rose and fell. The people of Kish experienced a food shortage, so what remaining grain and wheat that the wealthy had were stored up in sheds to prepare for famine. Vultures flew in circles over what prey had succumbed to the unforgiving heat due to unbearable thirst.


    On the plantation, the slaves struggled to get by with meager portions. The gardens were lifeless, and what irrigation channels that were set into place had begun to have a lower water supply. When a bucket was dipped into the well, only soft mud was visible.


    * * * * * * *


    ¡±Faster, you dog!¡± Bou shouted.


    Hirom winced in pain as the whizzing sound of the whip made contact with his back. Gritting his teeth, he bit down upon his tongue, continuing to mix straw into the mud pit, which was up to his knees. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth¡ªwhat he would give to have a drink. A cool, fresh drink. His legs were slippery underneath the oily, slippery mud, and as he lost his balance, accidentally tumbling head first, the whip came down again. The men around him kept his head low as Hirom crawled in the mud.


    ¡°Enough.¡±


    It was hard to see through his blurry vision, but Hirom could recognize Anat¡¯s voice from anywhere. He coughed as he struggled to stand in the pit. The others in the pit continued to mix in soil and straw, the slopping sound of mud filling the air.


    Bou frowned and lowered his lip. Reluctantly, he lowered his whip. ¡°There is nothing to be concerned about. He just needs straightening out.¡±


    Anat ignored him and stepped down from his horse. Hirom¡¯s breaths were slow, and sweat was beading down his face. He stood still.


    With the crook of his finger, Anat beckoned him. ¡°You. Come over here. Now.¡±


    Wearily, Hirom began to trudge through the thick mud, before finally climbing out of the pit. Anat nearly scoffed at the sight of him. Was this the snot faced worm that Utua had brought over after all those years? It couldn¡¯t be. The boy looked no older than fourteen moons, but had shot up like a beanstalk. His ribs and hipbones were showing through his skin; he was awfully thin. And yet, he walked like an old man. His knees and ankles were knobby, and his large dark eyes reminded him of a dog¡¯s. Always on the look out for scraps of food. He¡¯d gotten a couple of beatings for attempting to steal from the garden before, so he was definitely foolish that most. A bruise still lingered around his right eye.


    Anat fumbled around his belt and pulled out his canteen. Unscrewing the lid with his ringed fingers, he held it out to the boy.


    Hirom didn¡¯t have to be told twice. His bony fingers snatched it up, and he guzzled it down, water sloshing down his chin. His throat rose and fell. As he gulped loudly, Bou gave Anat a look of great disgust.


    ¡°Have you lost your wits?¡± he snarled.


    ¡°The boy is thirsty,¡± Anat calmly replied. ¡°You forget that I have the ultimate authority over here. I report everything I see to Matthias at the end of the day. If our numbers dwindle, then that responsibility falls upon me. Not you.¡± He climbed up on his horse. ¡°Make sure that these men are receiving plenty of water. Otherwise, how do you expect them to continue without dropping like flies? Slaves are expensive. Mathias cannot afford more.¡±


    Hirom wiped his mouth and exhaled with relief. As he approached the horse, he bowed and held out the canteen to him. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Anat glanced at the boy and accepted it, who avoided his gaze. The master bricklayer wasn¡¯t exactly sure what to make of him. He¡¯d seem to come out of nowhere when he first arrived, dragged out by Bou¡¯s hand. Said that he was no good in the house, having attacked the master¡¯s son and tried to run off twice. He was a strange child too, talking little among the men. He¡¯d hardly heard him say a word. He kept to himself and was a decent worker, although he was indeed quite puny. And foolish at times. How he had remained here after all this time was a mystery within itself.


    ¡°Get back to work,¡± Bou snapped, pushing the boy forward. Hirom awkwardly stumbled in his footing as he descended down into the pit.


    Anat frowned to himself as he roughly slapped the reins on his horse.


    He would keep a closer eye on him, for sure.


    * * * * * * * *


    The sound of the lyre echoed in the dimly lit room.


    Pale, twisted fingers glided over each string, pausing at each sound. The figure¡¯s demeanor was calm. Poised. There were no candles, only their shadow visible on the wall. A bit of light escaped from the spaces of the closed window. On the table rested a tray of untouched food and half a glass of wine¡ªboth were being collected by flies.


    Upon ascending the stairs, Sorana paused at the sound of the notes floating in the air. She lingered at the threshold, before slowly knocking at the partially opened door. The shadow did not turn around. She wonder how her son could even see his hands in the dark. She¡¯d spoken to the slaves, but they all had informed her that he never wanted any lamps there. None at all.


    This wasn¡¯t her child. This was a stranger. She wondered where her carefree, cheerful little boy had gone. And that blasted instrument. She wanted to destroy it with her hands. She wanted to throw it in the fire, if it would be the only thing that would make him talk to her.


    ¡°Telal?¡± she softly asked.


    The song continued.


    She glanced at the mostly full plate. ¡°You are not eating again. Is something wrong?¡±


    Light, slow notes. Had he always been like this? It was quite hard for her to tell.


    ¡°Telal,¡± she said, trying to hide the impatience in her voice. ¡°Will you answer me, please?¡±


    A crescendo splashed through the air¡ªhis fingers skillfully navigating the strings.


    Sorana faintly exhaled. ¡°Telal, your father wishes to speak with you. You have been in this room for days.¡± She took a few steps forward and clasped her hands together. ¡°He has been concerned. And frankly, so have I. How could you shun me? You are bringing disgrace upon our household. Don¡¯t you know what our neighbors are saying?¡±


    The strumming sound echoed in her ears.


    ¡±Don¡¯t you care about anything?¡±


    It was driving her mad. Her chest tightened, and she felt the heat rush to her face. ¡°You cannot stay here forever. I do not know what has gotten over you. Ever since your last trip, you hide here, every day.¡± She pressed her hand against the wall. ¡°Do you not wish to pursue other hobbies? It is disgraceful. You speak to no one. You wish to see no one.¡±


    Nothing.


    Aggravated, Sorana threw her hands in the air and began to storm off. The notes followed her in the hall, down the steps to the courtyard. Once she reached the fountain, she sat down on the edge, running her hands through her hair. An idea then formed in her head, and as she went around the house, she approached Amata, who was carrying a large basket of vegetables. She nearly bumped into her, accidentally dropping a few on the ground.


    ¡°Oh, pardon me, my lady,¡± she cried, delivering a bow. ¡°My sincerest apologies.¡±


    Sorana gave her a long look. ¡°Amata, do you know of any physicians in the city?¡± She glanced behind her. ¡°One who is close.¡±


    The old woman lowered her basket. ¡°None that I know of. Why?¡± She straightened her back. ¡°Is the young master ill?¡±


    ¡°I believe so,¡± Sorana murmured, pursing her lips. ¡°His father had taken him out for a military expedition to Babylon. When he departed, he appeared to be fine, although quiet. Telal has always been a quiet child.¡± She placed her hands on her hips. ¡°But this? He has shut up himself in his room for weeks. I fear he may have caught an illness over the water. Perhaps to the head.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Amata replied, picking up the vegetables. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry too much, my dear. I have two grandchildren of my own. They tend to be more on the moody side from time to time.¡± Wrinkles gathered on her face. ¡°I can go into town and look around for you, with your permission. But I am sure it is nothing.¡± She squinted her eyes. ¡°How old is the young master?¡±


    ¡°He is but sixteen moons,¡± Sorana murmured. ¡°I do fear that his father ruined him. He has tried to socialize the boy. But it is no good. His brothers have never shown such ridiculous behavior.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°All he does is play that cursed instrument. Night and day. It is driving everyone in the house insane. I¡¯m sure you must feel the same way.¡±


    Amata wiped her brow. ¡°Nothing of the sort.¡± She grunted as she hoisted the basket over her shoulder. ¡°When would you like for me to go, my lady? I am almost finished with this.¡±


    The mistress sighed. ¡°No, no. You are busy. I shall just have to go myself.¡± She adjusted her silk shawl over her shoulders and headed down the path. ¡°If Mathias comes looking for me, just tell him that I shall return soon.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Nodding slowly, Amata paused to give her a wave, before heading back through the villa to get to the kitchen. Other slaves were polishing the plates and cups on the table, while some were frantically scrubbing the floor, soap suds floating in the air. She carefully stepped around them, then went down another mostly empty hallway.


    The music had stopped.


    Amata wheezed and puffed under the strain of the basket. She was struggling to continue up the flight of steps when she nearly shouted at the sight of a dark figure leaning sideways against the hallway. Her grip tightened around the basket, before she felt it gently being lifted out of her sore arms. The old woman looked up with shock.


    ¡°Master Telal,¡± she scolded. ¡°There¡¯s no need for that. Come now, please return it to me.¡±


    The boy didn¡¯t respond, just balanced it with ease over his shoulder. She could only see the back of his head as they both continued down to the kitchen, which was empty. He set it down on the table with a soft thump and pressed his palms on the surface, looking down. Strands of pale hair fell over his face, and she noticed that his tunic was stained and dirty. He was barefoot. A strange odor came from him, and his eyes were bloodshot, evident of sleepless nights.


    Amara remembered when his head could barely reach against the side of the table. Now he towered over her and his father, with his muscular frame. He was the spitting image of Matthias, looking so much like a man, but she could still see the boy inside him.


    She pulled over a stool and sat down. ¡°Thank you, Master Telal. But you did not to do that.¡±


    His hands wrapped around the lumpy vegetables as he set them down on the table, one by one. Amata couldn¡¯t help but see how pale he looked. It¡¯s like he never saw the sun. His blue eyes avoided hers. He looked down as he began to soak them in a bowl of water.


    She reached for the knife to prepare to peel them, but was shocked to find him removing it from her hand. Annoyed, she placed a hand on her hip and frowned.


    ¡°Now, look¡ª¡±


    ¡±I am not sick, you know,¡± Telal whispered.


    Amata paused. ¡°I never believed so for a moment, my lord. That was your mother.¡±


    He pursed his thin lips, his brows furrowed with concentration. The skin bunched up around the potato in his hand. ¡°There are a lot of sick people around me. I am not one of them.¡± He gazed at his reflection in the blade.


    ¡°She only wants the best for you.¡±


    Telal slightly smirked. ¡°Does she?¡±


    Amata swallowed hard. ¡°I am sure of it.¡±


    He continued to speak softy, moving onto the next vegetable. ¡°She always likes to imagine things to make herself better.¡± Finally, he glanced at the old woman and smiled. ¡°I am glad to see a familiar face.¡± His voice wavered. ¡°I don¡¯t see people that often.¡±


    She didn¡¯t know how to respond to that.


    Telal set down the potato and heavily exhaled. The signs of a slight shadow had gathered around his jawline¡ªwhich he had tried to shave down. He smiled again at her, slowly handed her the knife. The handle was warm and sweaty. He remained still for a moment, before disappearing into the hallway and returning back to his dark bedroom chamber. In a few moments, Amata could hear the lingering sound of the lyre again.


    * * * * * * *


    Hirom waited until the sound of snoring men filled the air. Tiptoeing around their still frames, he peeked at the threshold of the straw hut, before running through the night. His stomach grumbled beneath him, but he tried not to think about the bread tucked into deep into the waistband of his filthy tunic.


    The sound of hooves pounding against the ground made him jump from behind the bushes. He crouched below, waiting for the overseers to pass, then booked it across the fields, only stopping to duck as far as he could. An owl hooted in the distance as he followed the moonlight across the trees.


    After several miles of running, Hirom pressed his back against a nearby willow tree, breathing heavily. He licked his lips as he slowly peered out from the side, where the rice and corn fields were just visible over the horizon. He glanced around again, water sloshing around his ankles before he stumbled awkwardly down the hill down the quarters. As quietly as could be, he reached the hovel at the far right end. He banged on the door with his fists, glancing around him. It was completely still.


    ¡±Leonara?¡± he hoarsely called out.


    Silence.


    He knocked again. ¡°Leonara, it¡¯s me.¡±


    The door latch shifted, and a small, shrunken figure was stooped over the threshold. Hirom could not help but stare. Strands of hair were around her face, and her expression was still. He gazed at the white film over her eyes¡ªhis heart sunk. He cursed the gods in his mind.


    Leonara released a raspy cough. Clearly, she had been asleep. ¡°Why are you out here?¡± she snapped. ¡°Return at once.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit smaller than usual, but I¡¯ll try to get more tomorrow.¡± Hirom pressed the bread in her hands, so she could feel the surface. ¡°Here.¡±


    Her face softened. ¡°You know I cannot take this. Now leave while you still can. Please.¡±


    ¡°But you must! They don¡¯t feed you anymore,¡± Hirom loudly whispered. His dark eyes widened. ¡°Do they? And do not lie to me.¡±


    ¡°You have no business worrying about such things.¡± The dim firelight was highlighted the side of Leonara¡¯s cheek. She sighed and handed the bread back. ¡°Especially not about an old crow like myself. Be off with you, before the overseer finds you are gone. You need it much more than I.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s absolute foolishness. If you get enough food, maybe you will be able to see again. Then they won¡¯t treat you this way.¡±


    ¡°Foolishness?! I raise you up, and this is what I get? You don¡¯t get to make these decisions. You do as so much as steal a hair and they beat you bloody for it. Especially Bou. He¡¯ll take away a leg, an eye, an arm. Cripple you. And then what will you be useful for?¡±


    ¡±I won¡¯t watch you starve,¡± Hirom fiercely said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to,¡± she scoffed. ¡°I was raised on the land. The gods will provide, one way or another.¡± She warmly cupped his face with both of her cold, smooth hands. ¡°I know how hard it has been for you, being apart from me. But you got to watch out for yourself first.¡±


    ¡±I¡¯m going to come tomorrow, whether you like it or not. I don¡¯t care how mad you get.¡± Hirom glared at her. ¡°You are not going to go hungry. And you are not going to pretend you aren¡¯t.¡±


    Leonara chuckled. ¡°I remember when you first showed up on my doorstep. So tiny and frail. I see that you are as stubborn as always. You and Utua both were. Always demanding the world go your way. ¡± Her voice slightly trembled. ¡°I would give everything to see your face again. To see the birds, the trees. But hearing your voice is sustenance for my soul. So I implore you, do not put yourself at risk.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m careful as can be,¡± Hirom softly answered. ¡°I can look out after myself.¡± He paused. ¡°I can take care of you.¡±


    She slightly winced in pain and clutched her side. An old injury¡ªwhere a large scar was visible. Hirom reached out, but she shook her head. After taking a deep breath, she lightly patted his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m alright.¡±


    The boy hesitated.


    ¡±Go,¡± Leonara responded. ¡°I shall be fine.¡±


    After a few moments, Hirom reluctantly nodded and stepped out in the dark. Once he was sure that Leonara¡¯s door was closed, he delicately placed the chunk of bread on her windowsill, before running down the road.


    In the moonlight on the hill behind the trees, Anat sat on top of his horse, watching the child¡¯s figure disappear in the fog. He thoughtfully rubbed at the bottom of his chin.


    * * * * * * *


    Telal¡¯s muscles glistened with sweat.


    This was the sixth person of the day. He straightened his bare back, his fingers flexing around the hilt of the sword. His tunic was soaked with sweat, and there was a pounding in his temples. A never ending headache. The trickling water from the fountain seemed to calm the voices in his head. He could feel his father¡¯s eyes boring into the back of his skull.


    In front of him was his next opponent¡ªBalathu.


    A much burlier man, who probably looked close to eighteen or nineteen moons. He had a great deal of hair on his chest, and his feet were rooted to the ground like a rock. Papa had informed him that these were one of the generals from the army. He had high hopes that he could begin the following spring.


    Telal licked his dried lips. The cold floor was smooth against his bare feet.


    ¡°You may begin,¡± Kuri said.


    With a shout, Balathu rushed forward.


    Telal began to dodge each of his blows, guiding his blade against his. The sound of metal clanging echoed in the courtyard. Despite sweat pouring down his face, he remained calm, acknowledging the slight pain in his biceps. It fueled him¡ªhis made sure his footing was steady against the ground. His blue eyes were focused, watching the blade.


    It was only after several moments that Balathu gradually began to lose his momentum. He had initially underestimated Telal¡¯s slender frame. What he lacked for in size was made up in endurance, and Balathu struggled for air as the boy began to gain the upper hand. Telal gritted his teeth as he directed a clean, downward diagonal cut towards his opponent¡¯s left thigh. He thought he heard Kuri shouting, but he couldn¡¯t make out his words.


    They were muffled, as if they were underwater.


    The blade caught against Balathu¡¯s meaty leg, causing him to release a high pitched scream. Blood spattered across the ground as he staggered back, but Telal did not slow down. He rapidly slashed at the other man¡¯s flesh, before knocking his sword out of his hand. Before his opponent could react, he had chopped his right wrist clean off, blood spurting up in the air, similar to the fountain.


    ¡±Telal.¡± Kuri shouted.


    The boy¡¯s face was dripping with sweat.


    Balathu was on the ground, hollering at the top of his lungs, curling up underneath Telal¡¯s shadow. He saw the fury in his instructor¡¯s gray eyes as he marched over to him.


    ¡°I told you to stop! Are you deaf?¡±


    Telal¡¯s chest rose and fell.


    ¡±So,¡± Papa said, glaring down at Balathu, who was still clutching his stump. His hand was partially submerged in the puddle of blood. ¡°You must inform your general that my son ready to enlist. As soon as possible.¡±


    Kuri bowed. ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±


    ¡°And you.¡± He glanced at Telal. ¡°Your footwork is incredibly sloppy. In combat, this is unacceptable. You have completely let me down. Your brothers were twice as fast as you. Twice. If I do not see improvement in the coming week, you will be punished. You disgrace me. You should have had him down in an instant.¡±


    A ringing noise settled in Telal¡¯s ear.


    ¡°How pathetic.¡± Papa gritted his teeth. His face was a heavy shade of red. ¡°You slow, stupid cow. Maybe if you had spent more time practicing, you wouldn¡¯t be this far behind. You bring nothing but dishonor to our family name. I want you out here every day¡ªsunrise to sunset, until this is corrected. Not a single toe out of place. Do you understand me?¡±


    The boy stared at him, partially covered in blood. His fingers slightly loosened around the hilt of the sword. Balathu loudly groaned and rolled over.


    ¡°Do you?¡± Papa thundered.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Telal whispered, looking down.


    Bou leaned against the vine covered wall of the villa and folded his arms in awe. He smirked, before whistling and making his way to the kitchen.


    Telal roughly tossed the sword to the ground and walked off, ignoring the loud clanging sound that echoed in the courtyard. His head was spinning, and he spat on the grass as he began to move through the cornfield. The plants partially concealed his darkened face.


    His father took a few steps forward, making his way around the red puddle on the floor. ¡°Don¡¯t you turn away from me when I am talking to you¡ªTelal! Telal, get back here now.¡± His voice echoed in the courtyard. ¡°We are not finished yet! Telal!¡±


    The boy disappeared in the woods.

 Ten

    2319 BCE


    Hirom stumbled through the dense bushes.


    His bare feet were coated in mud, and mosquitos bit at his arms and face, which he swatted away. A full moon had settled just above the clouds. He didn¡¯t dare bring a torch with him¡ªnot for a moment¡ªinstead using the natural light to guide him through the trees. He had to wait extra longer for the overseers and the other slaves near mud pit to fall asleep before he could make his move.


    A twig suddenly snapped.


    Hirom glanced behind him, shivering in the cold air. Although his eyes had gotten incredibly used to the dark, he could still not see well beyond the shadows. Shaking his head, he continued to move forward, although an uneasiness settled in his stomach. The sooner he could find the plant; the sooner he would be able to bring it Leonara. She would be able to make a good tea from the leaves.


    One of the elders had informed him of a particular herb that grew in deep into the forest: Gingko Biloba. The stuff resembled a maiden¡¯s golden hair, but good for the eyes. With each tree Hirom passed, he made sure to scan their branches. The leaves themselves had a particular design¡ªa ¡°fan shape¡±¡ªas the old man had spoken to him.


    After a few moments, Hirom set down the small satchel he was carrying onto the ground. It was mostly filled with other herbs. The golden leaves of the tree above him appeared milky white in the light. Setting his bare right foot against the scarred trunk, his calloused hands gripped the fine branches. The scent met his nostrils as he ascended higher upon the tree. Carefully, he crouched down on his knees, inching forward. His fingers had just plucked at the dense leaves when his heart suddenly stopped.


    Several feet below, at the base of the tree, stood a figure looking up at him. In their hand, they clutched his satchel, the strap dangling loosely in the air. Hirom¡¯s throat tightened, and he remained frozen, staring down below.


    ¡±How did you get up all the way up there?¡± the figure asked. It was a deep male voice¡ªno doubt. Most likely an overseer. But it was too gentle to belong to one of them.


    Hirom¡¯s palms dug into the branches. Instinctively, he drew back behind a cluster of leaves, cursing himself for not being so mindful of his surroundings.


    He half expected Bou to show up, with his whip ready in hand. Balancing his body weight on the branch he was sitting on, he began to look around. The good news with it being so dark, this person couldn¡¯t see his face; so there would be nothing to report. Not really. But he needed to find a way to get out of here¡ªget back to the bricklayer¡¯s quarters. Maybe drop through the other side and make a run for it. As he was forming a plan in his mind, the figure¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts, abruptly causing him to jump.


    ¡°You must be good at climbing to get that high.¡± The figure circled around the trunk, placing a hand on the surface. They chuckled. ¡°That is a lot of dedication. A lost art.¡± They glance at the satchel they carried. ¡°I wonder how long you¡¯ll stay up there.¡±


    Hirom¡¯s face burned. ¡°Give it back.¡±


    ¡°You left it in this spot. And I have it for you.¡± The figure¡¯s sandals crunched against the dead leaves. ¡°I won¡¯t take it from you.¡±


    With an exasperated sigh, Hirom leaned the back of his head against the trunk. He was still considering his options. He could always return another evening for the herbs, if he could just make it back to the bricklayer without anyone seeing. Crickets whirred in the air. There was a brief silence, before the figure softly spoke again. They were still.


    ¡°What are you doing out here?¡±


    ¡±What are you?¡± Hirom asked. As quietly as he could, he began to lower himself to the next branch, holding onto it to prevent rustling. He kept eyeing the shadow below.


    To his surprise, the figure chuckled. ¡°I like to take walks at night. Although that is a luxury that many people themselves cannot afford.¡±


    A bead of sweat rolled down Hirom¡¯s face as he reached below to the neighboring branch.


    ¡°You are not exactly the talkative type, are you?¡± the figure continued, leaning their back against the trunk. They began to play with the ends of the satchel. ¡°But that is not necessarily a bad thing. People speak for ages, yet they do not have anything to say.¡± There was a pause. ¡°Like my father. I wish he would never be able to say a word again.¡±


    Almost there. Hirom held his breath, loosely dangling his right bare foot in the air. The ground was so close, yet so far. The figure¡¯s shape was directly behind the trunk. After counting to three, Hirom leaped off the branch, before releasing a yelp as a rough hand suddenly clamped about his arm.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The satchel fell to the ground.


    Grunting, Hirom attempted to swing back, but he was abruptly pinned to the ground on his stomach, his face pressed sideways into the damp soil. He could feel the figure¡¯s knee digging into the square of his back. His breaths were slow, but very steady. No matter how hard he tried to squirm his way out of his grasp, the figure¡¯s strength was overbearing.


    ¡°Let me go,¡± Hirom snapped.


    ¡°But you did not answer my question.¡±


    ¡°I do not have to.¡±


    ¡°But I have answered yours.¡± The figure scoffed. ¡°Is it such a hard thing to do?¡±


    Hirom gritted his teeth. ¡°What is the point?¡±


    ¡°The point is that if someone else has seen you out here, you will receive far worse than you could imagine. If you run off, and an overseer takes notice of you, then you will be flogged and left at the post until the vultures pick and eat at your flesh under the hot sun.¡± The figure leans closer. ¡°I do not wish for such a fate to fall upon you, my friend.¡±


    ¡±Why?¡± the slave demanded. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    Bewildered, Hirom attempted to raise his head, but was pressed further in the dirt. ¡°Ouch! Please, just let me go.¡±


    ¡°I will, but you have to promise me one thing.¡±


    ¡±What?¡±


    A pause. ¡°You cannot run away. All I wish to do is to talk to you. I will not say a word to anyone. From my perspective, I did not see a thing. Can we at least agree on that?¡±


    Hirom exhaled. ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°Do you swear it?¡±


    ¡±Yes,¡± the boy replied. To his relief, he felt the figure¡¯s grip loosen. As Hirom immediately staggered to his feet, he rubbed his sore neck and back. He abruptly snatched the satchel, clutching it close to his chest as he dropped a handful of Gingko leaves inside. Although he was standing in the moonlight, he squinted his eyes, trying to understand how the figure was suddenly silent. He tilted his head.


    ¡°How many moons are you?¡± they finally asked, suddenly pacing back and forth.


    Hirom frowned. ¡°Fourteen. And you?¡±


    They didn¡¯t answer, drumming their fingers against the trunk. ¡°Your name?¡±


    The slave hesitated. ¡°I really must go.¡±


    ¡°Go where?¡± The figure stopped pacing. ¡°Actually, I think I know your name very well.¡± They looked down at the ground. ¡°So you do not have to say.¡± Their voice lowered. ¡°But you still refuse to answer me. It is a simple question. What brings you out here?¡±


    A cold wind blew, causing Hirom to shiver. ¡°Someone close to me is ill. They are going blind. I¡­I thought these herbs may help them see again.¡±


    ¡±You think you have the ability to make the blind see?¡± the figure asked. ¡°They smashed a fist against the tree trunk.


    ¡±She shall see again,¡± Hirom quietly said. He sniffed and wiped his nose with his hand. ¡°She has to, so she can be well.¡± He slung the satchel over his shoulder. ¡°I must go.¡± As he turned away, he felt a hand clamp over his shoulder. The boy immediately froze.


    ¡±Wait.¡±


    Hirom flinched.


    ¡±Tomorrow, you can meet me here in this spot.¡± The figure sighed. ¡°At this time, since you apparently like to climb trees, and I like to go on walks.¡± They paused. ¡°I will bring food.¡±


    Hirom slowly backed away. He then took off running in the woods, ducking low to avoid the branches from hitting his head. The figure watched him go, an achy sensation settling into their chest as the boy disappeared.


    * * * * * *


    Telal sat in the elaborately decorated room, the warm orange light of the fire illuminating the dried blood still visible on his tunic. He played with the clay goblet in his hands. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure how much wine he had guzzled down, but it was taking its effect. He was warm inside, relaxed. Took him away from the clouds in his head. He understood why Papa liked this stuff so much. He only wish it would make him calmer. He picked up the knife he had stolen from the kitchen and tucked it into the waistband of his tunic.


    After taking a long, heavy sip, he got to his feet, his mind still spinning. A smile fell on his face as he stumbled outside of the villa.


    After all this time, he had believed Hirom to be either dead or sold off. He had foolishly believed Bou for nine long years, believing that there was not another soul on this plantation, but that his friend had been here the whole time. The moment he had seen the other boy¡¯s face¡ªit was as if the world no longer existed. He was tall, frail, but most importantly, alive. The scars on his body proved that Bou had broken his promise.


    The wine made Telal¡¯s head clear. It was simple. So simple. So many years of excruciating loneliness, and for what?


    His gait was slowed, delayed. But he knew. He knew as he approached the quarters, past the rice and cornfields, below the tree where the man slept. He slept so peacefully, releasing a low snore as Telal¡¯s shadow fell upon him. The boy slowly pulled out the knife, gripping it tightly into his smooth palms. Bou murmured something in his sleep. The blade gleamed and shown brighter than the stars.


    Telal smiled in the dark.


    He plunged it deep into Bou¡¯s belly. The overseer awoke with a start, releasing a muffled cry, but Telal ripped the knife out and brought it down again. And again. Oh, his agonizing screams was music to his ears, but what about when he had cried deep at night, alone at night, yes, just like this


    and no one had been able to hear


    him.


    Telal¡¯s large blue eyes widened, but it wasn¡¯t until the warm blood coated completely soaked his clothing and hair and arms and face that he leaned his head back, the euphoria rushing through his veins, mouth parted into an endless, wonderful smile. Bou¡¯s blood stained the grass, the trees, the bushes, and his organs were spilling out of his stomach. But Telal kept raising and lowering the knife. It was so easy, how could he complicate it? It cut so easily in his flesh


    The boy scooped up handfuls of Bou¡¯s dark red blood, smearing it across his eyes and nose and face. He began to laugh uncontrollably below the dense white fog.

 Eleven

    2319 BCE


    Hirom stumbled through the dense bushes.


    His bare feet were coated in mud, and mosquitos bit at his arms and face, which he swatted away. A full moon had settled just above the clouds. He didn¡¯t dare bring a torch with him¡ªnot for a moment¡ªinstead using the natural light to guide him through the trees. He had to wait extra longer for the overseers and the other slaves near the mud pit to fall asleep before he could make his move.


    A twig suddenly snapped.


    Hirom glanced behind him, shivering in the cold air. Although his eyes had gotten incredibly used to the dark, he could still not see well beyond the shadows. Shaking his head, he continued to move forward, although an uneasiness settled in his stomach. The sooner he could find the plant; the sooner he would be able to bring it to Leonara. She would be able to make a good tea from the leaves.


    One of the elders had informed him of a particular herb that grew in deep into the forest: Gingko Biloba. The stuff resembled a maiden¡¯s golden hair, but good for the eyes. With each tree Hirom passed, he made sure to scan their branches. The leaves themselves had a particular design¡ªa ¡°fan shape¡±¡ªas the old man had informed him.


    After a few moments of endless walking, Hirom set down the small satchel he was carrying onto the ground. It was mostly filled with other herbs. The golden leaves of the tree above him appeared milky white in the light. Setting his bare right foot against the scarred trunk, his calloused hands gripped the fine branches. The scent met his nostrils as he ascended higher upon the tree. Carefully, he crouched down on his knees, inching forward. His fingers had just plucked at the dense leaves when his heart suddenly stopped.


    Several feet below, at the base of the tree, stood a figure looking up at him. In their hand, they clutched his satchel, the strap dangling loosely in the air. Hirom¡¯s throat tightened, and he remained frozen, staring down below.


    ¡±How did you get up all the way up there?¡± the figure asked. It was a deep male voice¡ªno doubt. Most likely an overseer. But it sounded too gentle to belong to one of them. He wasn¡¯t used to such a tone. ¡°You know what they do to runaways, yes? I don¡¯t want to see any of that happen to you.¡±


    Hirom¡¯s palms dug into the branches.


    ¡±You understand what I am saying.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not running away,¡± Hirom replied, steadying himself on the branches.


    ¡±Pardon?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not planning a runaway.¡±


    The figure sighed. ¡°I suppose not. You are too smart for that. I¡¯ve been following you for an hour. You¡¯ve been walking around in circles. So you must be looking for something. If you come down, you may find it sooner that you think.¡±


    ¡±Go away,¡± the slave quietly said.


    A brief pause. ¡°No need to be defensive. You can trust me. What is it that you seek? Tell me.¡±


    Instinctively, Hirom drew back behind a cluster of leaves, cursing himself for not being so mindful of his surroundings. The wind blew, causing the golden leaves to shake.


    He half expected Bou to show up, with his whip ready in hand. Balancing his body weight on the branch he was sitting on, he began to look around. The good news with it being so dark, this person couldn¡¯t see his face; so there would be nothing to report. Not really. But he needed to find a way to get out of here¡ªget back to the bricklayer¡¯s quarters. Maybe drop through the other side and make a run for it. As he was forming a plan in his mind, the figure¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts, abruptly causing him to jump.


    ¡°You must be good at climbing to get that high.¡± The figure circled around the trunk, placing a hand on the surface. They chuckled. ¡°That is a lot of dedication. A lost art.¡± They glanced at the satchel they carried. ¡°I wonder how long you¡¯ll stay up there.¡±


    Hirom¡¯s face burned. ¡°Give it back.¡±


    ¡°You left it in this spot. And I have it for you.¡± The figure¡¯s sandals crunched against the dead leaves. ¡°I won¡¯t take it from you.¡±


    With an exasperated sigh, Hirom leaned the back of his head against the trunk. He was still considering his options. He could always return another evening for the herbs, if he could just make it back to the bricklayer without anyone seeing. Crickets whirred in the air. There was a brief silence, before the figure softly spoke again. They were still.


    ¡°What are you doing out here?¡±


    ¡±What are you?¡± Hirom asked. As quietly as he could, he began to lower himself to the next branch, holding onto it to prevent rustling. He kept eyeing the shadow below.


    To his surprise, the figure chuckled. ¡°I like to take walks at night. Although that is a luxury that many people themselves cannot afford.¡±


    A bead of sweat rolled down Hirom¡¯s face as he reached below to the neighboring branch.


    ¡°You are not exactly the talkative type, are you?¡± the figure continued, leaning their back against the trunk. They began to play with the ends of the satchel. ¡°But that is not necessarily a bad thing. People speak for ages, yet they do not have anything to say.¡± There was a pause. ¡°Like my father. I wish he would never be able to say a word again.¡±


    Almost there. Hirom held his breath, loosely dangling his right bare foot in the air. The ground was so close, yet so far. The figure¡¯s shape was directly behind the trunk. After counting to three, Hirom leaped off the branch, before releasing a yelp as a rough hand suddenly clamped about his arm.


    The satchel fell to the ground.


    Grunting, Hirom attempted to swing back, but he was abruptly pinned to the ground on his stomach, his face pressed sideways into the damp soil. He could feel the figure¡¯s knee digging into the square of his back. His breaths were slow, but very steady. No matter how hard he tried to squirm his way out of his grasp, the figure¡¯s strength was overbearing.


    ¡°Let me go,¡± Hirom snapped.


    ¡°But you did not answer my question.¡±


    ¡°I do not have to.¡±


    ¡°But I have answered yours.¡± The figure scoffed. ¡°Is it such a hard thing to do?¡±


    Hirom gritted his teeth. ¡°What is the point?¡±


    ¡°The point is that if someone else has seen you out here, you will receive far worse than you could imagine. If you run off, and an overseer takes notice of you, then you will be flogged and left at the post until the vultures pick and eat at your flesh under the hot sun.¡± The figure leans closer. ¡°I do not wish for such a fate to fall upon you, my friend.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡±Why?¡± the slave demanded. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    Bewildered, Hirom attempted to raise his head, but was pressed further in the dirt. ¡°Ouch! Please, just let me go.¡±


    ¡°I will, but you have to promise me one thing.¡±


    ¡±What?¡±


    A pause. ¡°You cannot run away. All I wish to do is to talk to you. I will not say a word to anyone. From my perspective, I did not see a thing. Can we at least agree on that?¡±


    Hirom exhaled. ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°Do you swear it?¡±


    ¡±Yes,¡± the boy replied. To his relief, he felt the figure¡¯s grip loosen. As Hirom immediately staggered to his feet, he rubbed his sore neck and back. He abruptly snatched the satchel, clutching it close to his chest as he dropped a handful of Gingko leaves inside. Although he was standing in the moonlight, he squinted his eyes, trying to understand how the figure was suddenly silent. He tilted his head.


    ¡°How many moons are you?¡± they finally asked, suddenly pacing back and forth.


    Hirom frowned. ¡°Fourteen. And you?¡±


    They didn¡¯t answer, drumming their fingers against the trunk. ¡°Your name?¡±


    The slave hesitated. ¡°I really must go.¡±


    ¡°So soon?¡± The figure stopped pacing. ¡°Actually, I think I know your name very well.¡± They looked down at the ground. ¡°So you do not have to say.¡± Their voice lowered. ¡°But you still refuse to answer me. It is a simple question. What brings you out here?¡±


    A cold wind blew, causing Hirom to shiver. ¡°Someone close to me is ill. They are going blind. I¡­I thought these herbs may help them see again.¡±


    ¡±You think you have the ability to make the blind see?¡± the figure asked, punching their fist against the side of the tree trunk.


    ¡±She shall see again,¡± Hirom quietly said. He sniffed and wiped his nose with his hand. ¡°She has to, so she can be well.¡± He slung the satchel over his shoulder. ¡°I must go.¡± As he turned away, he felt a hand clamp over his shoulder. The boy immediately froze.


    ¡±Wait.¡±


    Hirom glanced behind him.


    ¡±Tomorrow, you can meet me here in this spot.¡± The figure sighed. ¡°At this time, since you apparently like to climb trees, and I like to go on walks. That cannot be a crime.¡±


    ¡±Why¡­.why would you want me¡ª¡±


    ¡±You say you have someone who is unwell. Maybe we can look for herbs together. I can help you find better ones than these.¡±


    For a moment, Hirom hesitated. ¡°But I do not even know your name.¡± He abruptly shook his head. ¡°Why¡­why are you doing this?¡±


    ¡±Because we are friends,¡± the figure softly replied. ¡°You and I, we are old friends.¡±


    ¡°Friends? But I don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°If you come, I will bring food.¡±


    ¡°Food?¡±


    ¡±As much as you like.¡±


    Hirom slowly backed away. He then took off running in the woods, ducking low to avoid the branches from hitting his head. The figure watched him go, an achy sensation settling into their chest.


    * * * * * *


    Telal sat alone in the empty kitchen, the warm orange light of the fire illuminating the stains still visible on his tunic.


    On the table sat a small wooden figurine of a horse. Even though it was frayed at the edges, he kept it close to him each day. He didn¡¯t know why. His large blue eyes settle upon it, before he gently picked it up and cradled it in his fingers. So much detail for a small child¡¯s gift. His throat tightened up, before he carefully set it back down again.


    Telal played with the mostly empty goblet in his hands. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure how much wine he had guzzled down, but it was taking its effect. He was warm inside, relaxed. Took him away from the clouds in his head. He understood why Papa liked this stuff so much. He picked up the knife he had stolen and tucked it underneath the waistband of his tunic.


    Hirom, don¡¯t you remember me?


    Telal quietly sighed. He¡¯d wanted to tell him his own name so badly, but was worried what he might say. Perhaps he wouldn¡¯t recognize him at all or despise him¡ªyet he couldn¡¯t tell what was worse. But there was an excitement brewing inside of him; one that he had not felt for a very long time. A chance to make things right. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.


    Nine years was too long of a time to be apart.


    And yet, Telal was stunned upon seeing his friend¡¯s face¡ªhow much different he look. Of course, he was extremely frail and tall, but there was nothing that a few decent meals couldn¡¯t fix. He knew that Hirom was hungry; as slaves tend to be. If anything was to make him come back, it would be good food. Amata¡¯s cooking alone could prevent a war.


    Telal finished his glass. He scratched the back of his neck, deeply wondering if his friend had perhaps thought of him, even after all this time. Hirom had only been five moons, but surely, he had forgiven him by now¡ªTelal had pleaded with the gods for it to be so. He would never forget the look in the boy¡¯s dark eyes from the shed on that cold, rainy day.


    I didn¡¯t mean it you know I didn¡¯t mean it they told me you were sold off and dead and it¡¯s been so long and I saw you but you don¡¯t see me but I wish you could


    He ran his hands through his disheveled hair. Upon heavily slamming the goblet onto the wooden table, he reached for the jug for a refill. It had been past midnight when he had finally arrived back to the villa. His father, to his great relief, had retired to his chambers. So had his mother. The slaves had finished their work and left fresh oil in the lamps for the morning. Despite the weight of the day, not an ounce of exhaustion came over Telal. His father¡¯s wine had beckoned him, and he had poured glass after glass until the jug was nearly empty.


    After taking a long, heavy sip, Telal heavily got to his feet, his mind still spinning. He bumped against the table, causing the goblet to fall upon the ground, shattering into a million pieces. A smile fell on his face as he stumbled outside, heading straight through the fields. He held his hand out to feel the tops of the plants brushing against his palms.


    After all this time, he had believed Hirom to be either dead or sold off. He had foolishly trusted Bou for nine long years, believing that there was not another soul on this plantation, but that his friend had been here the whole time. The moment he had seen the other boy¡¯s face¡ªit was as if the world no longer existed. He was near death but most importantly, alive. The scars on his body proved that Bou had broken his promise.


    You said you wouldn¡¯t hurt him.


    The wine made Telal¡¯s head clear. It was simple. So simple. So many years of excruciating loneliness, and for what?


    His gait was slowed, delayed. But he knew. He knew as he approached the quarters, past the rice and cornfields, below the tree where the man slept. He slept so peacefully, releasing a low snore as Telal¡¯s shadow fell upon him. The boy slowly pulled out the knife, gripping it tightly into his smooth palms. Bou murmured something in his sleep. The blade gleamed and shown brighter than the stars.


    Telal smiled in the dark.


    He plunged the knife deep into Bou¡¯s belly, snapping the bones of his hollow ribcage. The overseer awoke with a start, releasing a muffled cry, but Telal aggressively yanked the blade out and brought it down again. Bou tried to rise to his feet, swinging blindly in the dark. Telal bashed a rock against the side of his face. The boy¡¯s fingers went for the knife handle, slick with mud.


    He delicately carved it into the man¡¯s chest, leaving a path of crimson. And again. His shoulders rose and fell, long strands of unkempt pale hair hanging over his face. His arms burned, he couldn¡¯t stop. Papa, it is warm. It is very warm. Blood spattered Telal¡¯s face. It tasted sweeter than the finest berries. Oh, Bou¡¯s agonizing screams was music to his ears, but what about when he had cried alone all those nights, alone all those nights, yes, just like this


    and no one had been able to hear


    him.


    Telal¡¯s large blue eyes were glazed over, but it wasn¡¯t until the warm blood completely soaked his clothing and hair and arms and face that he leaned his head back, the euphoria rushing through his veins, his mouth parted into an endless, wonderful smile. Bou¡¯s blood stained the grass, the trees, the bushes, and his organs were spilling out of his stomach. But Telal kept raising and lowering the knife, his breaths getting heavy.


    It was so easy, how could he complicate it? It cut so easily in his skin. He cut faster, bits of brain matter and tissue and muscle getting caught onto the tall plants of the rice field. When the sun rose, the slaves would be able to see his pink, saggy flesh. And soon, he would be dust.


    That is what all men are, after all.


    Clay and dust.


    How could he complicate such things?


    Telal scooped up handfuls of Bou¡¯s dark red blood, smearing it across his eyes and nose and face. He began to laugh uncontrollably beneath the dense white fog.