Hela seethed. Her talons scratched into the stone and sent sparks falling to the ground. The guards, still celebrating their crime, didn't even notice. A fourth guard, young and handsome, looked pale as he listened to their tale.
His face was unblemished except for an old scar that ran from the corner of his left eye to his ear. Hela marked him. If she was going to take out the other three, she'd have to let him alone.
The beast had wanted her to kill them all. Any soldier. But she knew that wasn't possible. The herd had to protect itself. She couldn't do all the work. But she had an idea. And very soon, she'd act on it.
For more than a week, she tracked the guards and their movements. The Elamites appeared to be rigid in their assignments. The four men she'd seen that night were always stationed at the gates from nightfall until dawn. But that didn't keep the three, the doomed three, from leaving their posts and wandering back into the city.
Hela followed them. The trio always took the same route, winding through the streets and alleys. Their path kept them from encountering other city patrols. Before they left an alley, the oldest among them would peer around the corner and look up and down the street. Once sure it was clear, he beckoned the others and they continued their travels.
They were hunting for citizens of Ur. It was easy to recognize the hunger in their steps. Whether they meant to beat, rape, or kill their quarry, she wasn't sure.
The curfew had been in effect for weeks. The terrified herd stayed indoors and rarely ventured out even during daylight hours. When Sin rose in the sky, the city seemed all but empty. Word had spread that those who left their homes at night never returned. Hela was certain the trio was the reason why.
Her beast was starving. With the constant curfew, the herd staying indoors, she had little chance to find a companion. Hela's skin had started to flake off in long curls. If she didn't feed soon, she'd turn to dust.
Contemplating that fate, she clung to the top of the city wall. The beast was weak. When she'd first begun tracking the soldiers, leaping across the city or scrambling up walls had been as easy as breathing. Now? Every move took effort.
Rather than following the soldiers that abandoned their post, she watched the one they left behind. The young man with the scar stood rigid at attention. His legs were bent at the knee, but his back was straight and strong.
The more Hela watched him, the more she wanted to speak with him. She didn't understand how a human could remain still for so long. As the beast, Hela had surveilled villages without moving for days. But never as a woman.
After Darika had given her to Garaaga, Hela had grown bored with the hut, the village, and the worshippers. She was always treated with respect by Darika's clan, but no matter how she tried to enjoy their fear and humility, it was unfulfilling at best.
Her mother had told her to enjoy the safety of the people and their sacrifices. "Some spend their entire lives amongst the herd, Hela," Darika had said. She had splashed her feet in the river water, eyes gazing across the bank. "Some of those lives are very short. The herd is unpredictable and there are a few in the world," she'd said, locking eyes with Hela, "that can hurt us. Kill us."
"Where are they?" Hela had asked.
Darika sighed and shook her head. "They are few, daughter. But like us, they are spread across the world."
"What god do they pray to?"
"God," Darika spat. "They have no god," she said. "Like us, they are made of dust. I've met one in my lifetime. She didn't even know what she was."
Hela cocked an eyebrow. "What happened?"
Darika smiled. "She died before she even had a chance to use her gifts." She raised a hand and it turned to stone, talons sliding out from the fingers. The long, sharp claws clicked together. "I wanted her. To feed from her. But," she said and closed her fist, "I had to kill her instead."
"Why?" Hela asked.
"Because," the hand turned human again, "they speak to us. In our minds. Just as I speak to you." She shook her head. "But their words can kill. And once she knew what I was, or thought she knew, she began to speak."
"But how did she know?"
Darika had chuckled. "Perhaps they are born knowing. Even if they don't understand why."
After that, Hela's curiosity of the world beyond her mother's village drove her to travel. When night fell, she'd make her way through the fronds and ferns, quiet as death, and search for human trails. It didn't take long to discover the nearest villages were all but dead. Her mother's cabal had wiped them out through sacrifice and war. Hela had never asked Darika how long she'd stayed in that hut to enjoy the worship and feeding from her followers. But based on the number of abandoned villages, she imagined it had been quite some time.
Each night, Hela stayed out longer, traveled further. The paths of the old ones slowly disappeared. Once she was beyond the circle of destruction left by Darika's worshippers, she found a stream and followed it.
As the beast, she was able to cover ground much faster. Predators that caught her scent marked their territory and then scampered away. Hela couldn't help but smile at their fear. Nature knew she wasn't to be preyed upon.
After a long night of running along the stream bank, she finally found what she was looking for. A large clearing had been cut out of the jungle. Grass-woven huts dotted it. She could still smell wood-smoke in the air and the scent of cooking meat.
Hela climbed one of the tall trees, caged the beast, and sat naked on a limb facing the village. She slept in the branches, a slight breeze chilling her skin.
She awoke to the smell of fresh cooking fires and distant conversation. When she opened her eyes, the village women and children were busy smoking fish over the fire. The only men remaining in the village were old and withered. The beast could smell their disease.
The villagers seemed happy. Children played games while their mothers and older siblings performed their daily chores. Hela watched for hours. Unlike Darika's supplicants, the strangers kept no weapons in sight, and no one stood guard.
She wondered how long it would be before Darika's tribe attacked them, stole their children, or enslaved them for sacrifice. A flame of shame spread across her cheeks. She too had fed on the young men and women forced from their villages and brought to her mother's home as trophies. Hela had never thought to ask where they came from. Now, she knew.
Hela stayed in the tree until nightfall. She ignored the rumbles from her stomach, the itch of the leaves and wood against her skin, and the beast's incessant growls. The men had returned with a wild pig. They dragged the bled and gutted carcass on a woven mat. The women put the pig on a spit and immediately began to roast it.
The men sat with their children around the campfire while the fresh kill smoked into the night. As the sun set, the tribe ate their meal.
That was when the younger men began milling about the edges of the village. In a short time, they were spread out around the circle. Guards after all, Hela thought. Instead of the well-hewn weapons Darika's supplicants carried, these were simple wooden or stone clubs.
Once the moon started to rise in the east, Hela transformed and climbed from her perch. She headed back toward home, her mind confused by what she'd seen.
Had Darika poisoned her supplicants? Were they slaves to her once she'd shown them what she was? How long had they worshipped and done her bidding?
By the time she'd returned to Darika's home in the jungle, the moon was setting. Her mother was asleep, a withered old man in her arms. Hela crept to her pallet and slept.
*****
She watched the young soldier until the others returned. Hela listened as the trio argued amongst themselves. The herd was staying inside; their quarry was not to be found. The soldier, her soldier, looked relieved.
Targets of opportunity, she said to herself. When they next hunted, she would hunt them. But first, she had to feed. And soon. The beast was weak and she couldn't channel its power much longer without killing herself.
We are all dust, Dari
ka's voice said in her mind, and we shall all return to dust. The challenge, daughter, is to put off the inevitable as long as possible. Our herds are very aware of their mortality and so should we be.
Hela crept away from the soldiers and headed back to her home. If she could feed during the day, she would be strong enough to take all three. But a member of the herd would have to die to provide the strength she needed. Hela began to plan.
9
MOTHER river was green, but low. The grain ships and other merchant craft were barely able to navigate it and bring their goods to Ur. If the drought continued much longer, the merchants would have to send all their wares across the desert.
The Elamites promised grain. They promised prosperity. They promised safety. So far, it had all been a lie. In the few weeks since the sack, grain was now so expensive that even the wealthy were having difficulty paying for it. Each morning, desperate men and women headed to the river to fish. And their catches were diminishing.
Mother river had nothing left to give. It was as though Sin had cursed Ur. The night before Hela started hunting, she'd watched the temple where the priests and priestesses held their vigil for relief. The fires were larger as was the crowd gathered before the altar. But their prayers were not to be answered. Sin had abandoned the faithful. All that was left was famine and death.
Those thoughts rattled in her mind as she headed to the river. She passed through the army camped outside the city walls without difficulty. Many of the men watched her with both hunger and curiosity. The beast roared for her to feed, but to do so in the open was to invite death. The shavings of stony skin she'd found in her pallet that morning meant if she didn't feed soon, death wouldn't need an invitation.
What she needed was someone young and filled with life. Part of her hated what she had to do, but it was for the greater good of the herd. Or so she told herself.
The heat of the day had driven many from the river. The banks were dotted with those still desperate enough to fish, but they were fewer than she'd expected. A grim smile filled her face as she approached the gurgling water.
Hela kept her head down and walked barefoot across the hard pack. The pebbles and rock in the sand were little more than a texture to the bottoms of her feet; they had been hardened by many years of walking barefoot.
When she reached the river bank, she wanted to cry. The normally black, fertile soil was little more than a brownish stain. The long drought had finally caught up to Mother River and her prison. She looked either way. Fish normally turned in the wide river, but there was hardly any movement at all.
Ibi-Sin was no longer on the throne in Ur, but the sky was cloudless. Hela lay her shawl upon the limbs of a dead olive tree. The bank was quickly becoming a wooden graveyard. If Ur's patron god didn't show up soon, the city would completely die and even the Elamites would abandon it.
She walked into the water. Mother River cooled her skin and she shivered from the temperature change. Hela had never much cared for swimming, although it was something her mother insisted she learn.
Darika, on the other hand, spent more time in the water than not. Hela had often thought her mother wasn't Garaaga's child, but that of some river god. Hela walked further. The water rose above her waist, her breasts, and then it washed over her.
She curled her toes in the silty river bed. Mother River, she thought, you must bless my herd. You must bring rain. The water didn't respond.
Hela kicked her way to the surface and spat a spray of water into the air. She wiped water from her eyes and stared up stream. Far up the bank, a man was casting his net into the water. The beast growled inside her. Hela grinned and started to swim.
Hand over hand, like you're grabbing at the water, her mother's voice had once said. She kicked her feet in time with her hands just as Darika had taught her. She quickly moved against the current and in no time, she was close enough to see the man's face.
He cast his net and then turned to her. His tunic was soiled and sweat stained, beard long and unkempt. Hermit, she thought. The beast roared inside her mind. Perfect.
*****
Feeding on the hermit was easy. The man gave everything he had in a frenzy. She imagined he hadn't lain with a woman for many Name Days. It didn't take long for him to climax. But the beast was starved. By the time she hid his body up under one of the last olive trees with leaves, he was little more than a dried husk.
Hela leaped into the water and swam downstream to where she'd left her shawl. The beast had gotten what it needed and she felt its power coursing through her blood. She would be ready for the soldiers.
She walked up the bank and retrieved her shawl. Rather than dress, she sat on the bank's edge and allowed the sun to dry her naked skin. The heat was as refreshing as the cool water had been. Hela said a word of thanks to the herd. Darika had taught her to praise the herd for its protection and thank it for its sacrifice. Without the herd, her mother had said, we are unable to survive, little one.
Yet, Darika had also claimed the herd had to protect itself. The dichotomy of those statements had always unsettled her. Tonight, she would do more than protect her herd--she would avenge it.
Surely Ushar wasn't the first woman to be raped and killed by the Elamites. The three soldiers she'd found responsible for her late lover's death were a symptom of conquest. And Hela thought their deaths would send a message to the others; no violence against the innocent was tolerable.
Dry enough, Hela wrapped herself in her shawl and headed back toward the city. When she neared Ur's gates, she scanned the tents and lean-tos of the conquering army. There seemed to be fewer today than there had been since the invasion. Hela wondered if the Elamites were satisfied they could hold Ur without the strength of the entire army. If that was the case, they were right. Ur's citizens had little reason to try and fight after their own army had been slaughtered. A rebellion was out of the question.
As long as Elam did nothing to the temple of Sin and didn't try and force their culture upon Ur, all would be well. The people would gripe for generations, but eventually, there would be little difference. And if Ibi-Sin's departure brought rain and ended the decade long shortage of grain and prosperity, the memories might fade even more quickly. But for now, the conquerors were still seen as invaders.
Hela's bare feet crunched over dried out weeds and the trash left by the army. Several discarded animal carcasses rotted in the blazing sun. The stench was almost as bad as the thousands of unwashed bodies choking the area beyond the city gates.
She wondered if the most difficult part of their march to Ur had been bringing their own food. With Ur as poorly stocked as it was, she wouldn't have been surprised. If the Elamites kept their word, a shipment of grain was headed to the city to further pacify its citizens. Perhaps the poor wouldn't starve after all.
Instead of shying away, she changed her direction slightly to bring her further away from the gates and to the front of the army's camp. The soldiers standing guard turned their heads to watch her approach.
The nearest guard's back was stiff, knees bent, the spear in his hands pointed to the sky, butt resting on the ground. He turned his head toward her, but his face was stony.
"Hello," she said to him.
The man cocked an eyebrow. "Hello," he said. His Akkadian accent was thick and guttural. "You should not be here."
She smiled and the beast exhaled its breath. The guard's eyes turned glassy. "I'll not bother you long, sir."
He swayed on his feet. "Okay," he said.
"Do you know the men that stand guard there at night?" she asked and pointed toward the gates. "Four of them. Three older soldiers and a young one?"
The man's face wrinkled. "Yes. I know them."
"You don't seem to like them."
He shrugged. "Three of them? No. Criminals wearing armor." He licked his lips and a pocket of drool appeared in one corner of his mouth. "But I like you," he breathed.
Hela grinned. "I know you do. Perhaps you will come find
me one day."
His smile had disappeared into longing. "Today?"
She chuckled. "Not today. In fact, I was never here," she said. The man's eyes went dull and his face slackened back into that expressionless line. Hela turned on her heel and walked into the city.
10
SIN was where she wanted it; the last sliver of the crescent moon hung high in the sky. Stars twinkled in the deep black. Hela lay naked on her roof. After the sun had traveled below the horizon, she climbed the ladder with a plate of withered figs, spread her shawl, and napped. When she awoke, the sky jewelry was polished and brilliant, but the memory of Ushar's battered face kept flashing in her mind.
While she went over her plan again and again, her eyes took in the patterns surrounding the moon. The only human light she could see was the glow from the flames atop the ziggurat of Sin. They could pray all they wanted, but Mother River was still low and rain was nowhere to be found.
Hela sat up on her makeshift pallet and stared out at the temple. Garaaga didn't answer prayers and It was real. Why should the make-believe gods of Sin or Inanna help their worshippers? Their sacrifices were in vain and the herd wasn't enlightened enough to realize it.
But tonight I sacrifice to Garaaga, Hela thought. And to the herd.
Hela closed her eyes. She remembered Ushar's fingers as they caressed her breasts and slowly moved to her cleft. Her mind filled with the sound of Ushar's cries as Hela brought her to orgasm again and again. Her scent. The way she tasted. And then her broken body in a trash strewn alley.
The tiny flame of hate and anger that had remained in her soul rose to a bonfire. The beast welcomed it. Growled for it. Wallowed in it. Hela's face melted. Her flesh hardened and turned the color of stone. Talons slid from her lengthening, widening fingers. The roof seemed to give a little beneath her increasing mass.
Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga) Page 5