Ama leaned in closer and wrapped an arm around his waist.
I can make you forget, she thought, but it's not what you need.
"If he's not, we'll find him. Or he'll find you."
"You always pause when I ask those questions. Like you know something you're not telling me."
The Ušumgallu ate your son.
"I know it's hard. Especially since you lost your wife."
He nodded. "Why do you care, Ama?"
She sighed. "You remind me of someone," Ama twirled a finger through his long hair, "and I wasn't able to repay their kindness."
"Why not?"
"He died."
"This Yusef?"
"Yes."
"What happened to him?"
Ama looked out across the square. Tahira was gone. She studied the figures in the distance and tried to locate her partners. If they were in the city, they were hiding.
"A monster destroyed him."
"Monster?"
"People can be monsters."
He nodded. "Loved him?"
"Yes." She leaned in and kissed him. "I did. You aren't him, Fadil. You're older, wiser, sadder. But in a way, I feel for you what I felt for him."
He dropped fish bones into the woven basket and consumed the remaining piece of bread. "The sun is getting lower."
"Yes."
"If you want to teach me to swim, we should get moving."
She laughed. "Yes, we should."
He kissed her, picked up the basket, and walked to the cart. He handed it to the fat woman and turned back to Ama.
Monsters like you, Hela whispered, can't know love. Ever.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
*****
By the time they had dropped his dress robes back at Ama's house, and made love again, dusk was quickly approaching. While they had walked Ur's streets and Fadil spoke of Babylon, Ama focused on the beast inside her. Tahira or her companions could be hiding around any corner, or in any alley. The beast had sensed them before, but it was silent for the time being.
After passing through the gate, the chatter and clatter of entertainers preparing for the night's celebration made conversation all but impossible. Instead, the pair studied the colorful dresses of the actors, jugglers practicing their art, and the great beasts roasting over spits.
The river was faster than the day before. Ama knew the northern lands were finally getting a respite from the drought. With any luck, the rains would travel south. If the king wanted to keep his head, he was surely hoping for the same.
Ama undressed and hung her clothes on the olive tree.
You did that when you taught Yusef to swim. Remember how that turned out?
"Shut up, Hela," she muttered.
Yusef had his tunic over his head. "What?"
"Nothing," Ama blushed. "Old memory."
Fadil faced the river, his naked body glowed bronze in the sun's final rays. The angry red and purple bruises had begun to fade, but his body was still a tapestry of pain.
"Time to let Mother River set you at ease and cleanse your body."
He nodded. "I'm afraid."
"I won't let anything bad happen, I promise."
She held out a hand. He grasped it and his face twitched with a smile. Ama turned and walked down the bank. He followed step for step, his hand shaking with fear.
The sand turned silty and damp as they stepped closer to the water. The cool water enveloped her toes. She watched Fadil's uneasy smile fall into a frown.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Ama said. "But Mother River will bless you." She grinned. "As will I."
He blushed and kept following. When the water washed over his feet, he flinched, but continued moving forward. When it went to his knees, he stopped and dropped her hand.
"Far enough," he whispered.
"Far enough." She agreed. "But I want her blessing."
Ama fell backwards into the water and backstroked toward the far bank. A look of amazement crossed his face as she quickly made her way past the center point. He shrank in the distance.
"Watch her bless me," Ama yelled and then lifted her feet straight up in the air. Her body hardly rippled the water as she dove.
Eyes closed, she continued swimming toward the bottom. When her fingers touched the silty floor, she dug in her hands. The rich soil was like silk against her skin. She bubbled out a sigh, lifted her hands, and rolled over in the water. She stared upwards but could see nothing but darkness. Night had come at last.
If he trusted you, he would have swam with you.
Ama ignored Hela's voice and allowed Mother River to pull her toward the surface. She shook her thick hair as she broke into the night air. "See? Mother--"
She looked across the bank. Fadil was gone. His clothes were still tangled in the olive tree, same as hers, but he was nowhere to be seen in the twilight.
"Fadil?" she shouted.
No response. Heart racing, Ama swam as fast as she could back to shore. When the water became shallow enough, she stood and scanned the shoreline. It was completely empty save for the olive trees.
The beast stirred inside her and she felt its nervous warning. She swung her head and stared at the olive tree where their clothes hung. In the distance, she made out a pair of green eyes that blinked in the darkness.
"No," Ama whispered and ran up the bank and headed toward the desert.
21
Ama ran. Her bare feet clipped against a rock. She cursed and then brought the beast forward. Her legs grew stout and hard as stone. The graceful swishing of her feet through sand transformed into heavy bludgeons against the loose soil.
Tahira was leading her far from the city and into the wastes beyond. She was focused on the sound of the cat's paws thrashing the sand ahead. Sin's baleful glow was growing but the world was still bathed in darkness; sound was the only lead she had to follow.
The Ušumgallu, the bird, the cat.
She had forbidden them from her city. She had warned them not to disturb the herd. As she ran, her breath mere pants from the exertion, her eyes began to glow red. Her flesh stretched as her body grew in size. Ama's naked torso widened, her breasts transforming into hard, armored plates.
The beast had come forward and she had assumed its shape. Its anger and hunger fueled each step as she sprinted after the human sized cat. Tahira was still far ahead, but she was gaining. When she caught the cat-thing, it would screech and howl as she ripped it apart.
Couldn't protect Yusef. Can't protect Fadil. All your loves are doomed.
Hela's voice whispered in her mind and she did her best to ignore it, but the words echoed in her triangular skull.
Something screeched. The beast warned her to turn her head, but she was too slow. Her body flew as a great, speeding weight slammed into her side.
Ama rolled across the sand and regained her feet, talons raised and ready to attack.
She could see nothing in the darkness.
There was a hushed whisper of wings and then she was flat on her face, her back stinging from the impact. She rolled again and a clawed foot stamped down into the ground beside her. Garaaga's shadow slashed at it in reflex and growled with laughter as the talons shredded flesh.
Something screamed in pain and the world filled with the sounds of flapping. Blood spattered across her back. Ama leaped to her feet as her assailant took flight.
Bird. Cat. Snake.
Ama watched it hover in the distance, turning and swooping in clumsy circles. Her back and side ached from the impacts, but she ran after it. Tahira had made her escape, as the bird had intended, but Ama continued running deeper into the waste, Sin lighting her way as the crescent shaped god rose into the sky.
You asked about other gods, Ama? Now you know they have children too, Hela whispered in her mind.
"Let's see how they die," Ama growled.
The bird was moving further toward the far hills. Ama leaned forward and willed her body to run faster. The rage was still strong, bu
t fatigue was creeping in. If she didn't make a stand soon, she knew she might not even be able to fight them off.
Don't you think that's what they intended? Hela asked.
Ama slowed her pace and then stopped. If they were going to kill Fadil, they would already have done it. If he was alive, they would wait for her. She grinned in the semi-darkness. Perhaps they would even come to her.
She stopped her run and stood watching the sky. The bird-man had become no more than a dot in the distance. Her keen eyes followed it and then it disappeared completely.
Ama turned her head and looked. The desert of the wastes was littered with rock. She walked toward a promising pile and picked three. They were the size of her large palms and each seemed the right weight. Ama waited.
In the distance, the dot appeared again. It was flying lower to the ground. She willed her eyes to return to normal. Without the beast's vision, her keen eyesight would be lost. But the glowing coals would make it easy for the bird to spot her.
She ducked down and focused on slowing her breath. The bird's hearing might be as good as its eyesight--best to be silent. She didn't have to wait long.
The rushing air beneath its wings whispered in the darkness. Its shape was a downward facing crescent that melted upwards before returning.
Beautiful, she thought. And what god sired you?
As it closed with her, it screeched and tried to gain altitude. Ama growled, brought the beast forward, and then threw a rock as hard as she could.
The thing screamed into the night as the stone pierced its left wing. The bird-man rolled over in the air before diving into the ground with a crash. She ran toward it, her talons clicking against one another as she clenched and unclenched her fists.
The thing was on its back, gasping for air. In the wan moonlight, she could make out the spatters of blood upon its leg and face. She reached it and placed a taloned foot upon its chest. She pressed down and it groaned.
"Anzaru," she hissed. "I told you not to disturb my herd."
The bird's beaked face melted until it was that of a man. A dribble of blood flowed from the left corner of his mouth.
"You. Don't. Own. Them," he whispered as he tried to breathe.
She smiled and pressed harder. Anzaru groaned with pain.
"Where are your friends?"
"Waiting for you," he gasped.
"Then let's go see them."
Ama reached down and slashed through its torn wing. Anzaru howled in pain; blood welled from the long cuts.
"Sorry," she growled. "Don't want you flying away."
She dug her talons into his left shoulder, pierced the feather covered skin and then lifted. Tears streamed down Anzaru's face and he mouthed a silent scream.
She stood him up, but kept her talons in his flesh.
"Take me to them. Now."
Anzaru wheezed something inaudible and then shuffled forward.
"If you're lucky," Ama said, "they'll come looking for you and bring my man."
"Your man," he coughed. Anzaru spat a wad of bloody phlegm to the desert floor. "Can't love the herd."
She tightened her grip in his shoulder and he leaned back in pain.
"Hush now," she growled. "Before you bleed to death. Or I just rip you apart."
Anzaru continued shuffling forward, Ama stepping with him. She looked out upon the desert. In the distance, she saw a flickering light--a torch. Ama smiled. She released her talons from Anzaru's shoulder and slapped him down to the ground. He fell at her feet. She stepped back and leaned down.
"I have broken your body, bird man, but you might still live. Don't make me break your skull."
She kicked him in the side and Anzaru rolled in pain.
Something hissed in the darkness. Ama flicked up her eyes. A stone's throw away, a pair of green cat's eyes stared at her.
"Tahira? I thought you might come back for him."
The cat hissed. White fangs glowed in the darkness. Past her, the torch was getting closer. Two figures were walking toward them.
Fadil's still alive, she thought. Still alive.
"Come closer, girl," Ama whispered. "Let's see how those slashes healed."
"I see how yours have," Tahira spat.
"Is my man unharmed?"
"Your meal? Your servant? Your slave? He is well enough. Unless Regile became too famished." She sneered in the darkness. "He so loathes the taste of old flesh."
A fresh wave of rage broke over her soul.
"You should have left."
The two figures were visible now. Fadil was naked, stumbling, and out of breath. His captor wore a long robe that hid his body. A hood lay low over his eyes, but Ama could still make out a soft yellow glow from beneath it.
She waited until the two stopped next to Tahira. The cloaked figure had a hand wrapped around Fadil's neck. Regile didn't look especially strong, but she was certain he could break Fadil in half if he wanted to.
"Let him go," Ama growled.
The cloaked figure shook its head. "Anzaru must first be safe," it said in a high-pitched hiss.
She stared down at the man at her feet. He was still breathing. She lifted her taloned foot and placed it on top of his head. When she looked up, Tahira's eyes were a fierce green. The yellow glow beneath the cloak intensified.
"He was safe. You all were. If you had left."
"Not your herd," Tahira said. "They are ours. All of ours."
"Seek Babylon. Seek the remnants of Akkad. Feed upon the Elamites as you like, but you are not welcome here."
"Garaaga," the cloaked figure hissed again.
Ama cocked her head. "Yes. Garaaga."
The hooded figure nodded. "Thought so. Nergur inferred as much."
"You know the old man?"
"He's not a man," Tahira whispered. "But we know him. All know him."
"Then you know what I am. And that I'll kill every one of you."
Fadil whined as the snake man's hand tightened on his neck.
"So arrogant," it hissed. "Selfish. Your father must be so proud."
Ama laughed and then flung the stone in her palm at the cloaked figure's head.
Blood flew in a cloud as the creature fell to the ground. Its hand raked down Fadil's back and he screamed in pain.
Tahira screeched and ran at Ama. She ducked her head and smashed into the cat's skull. The sound of bone on stone echoed through the desert. Ama felt her mental furniture shift from the impact. The cat's claws slashed at her already wounded shoulder. Ama cried out in pain but drove forward and knocked the cat aside. She barely heard the sound of it rolling into the dirt.
Fadil had fallen to his knees in pain; Regile stumbled backwards away from him. Ama ran forward and scooped her lover up in her arms. Something crashed into her back, but she managed to keep her feet. She ran as fast as she could until she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She clutched Fadil beneath her left arm and whirled around, slashing with her right.
Her talons ripped through feline flesh. Tahira screamed as the sharp stone raked across her face. One of her eyes popped from its socket and dangled by red veins. The bridge of her nose had disappeared in a ragged wreck of meat. She fell to her knees. Ama kicked out with her right foot and connected with Tahira's chin. A sharp crack echoed in the desert. Tahira fell backwards into the sand and was still.
Regile was pursuing but had stopped. His hood had been pulled back and bright blood welled from a crater in his face.
"Tahira?" he hissed.
The feline didn't move.
He glared at Ama. Fadil moaned beneath her arm and Regile smiled. "You lose." He held up his hand. Blood dripped from the sharp nails. "You lose. And one day, your herd will hunt you." Regile's yellow eyes burned and then blazed with orange fire. "I will make sure of it."
"If you come back," she panted, "I'll kill you. Tell your tribe that Ur is mine and mine alone."
The Ušumgallu hissed again, replaced his cloak and slowly faded into the darkness as though he'd neve
r been there. Somewhere near, she could hear Anzaru crying.
"Ur is mine!" Ama screamed to the land. Her voice echoed off the hills and into the desert. There was no reply.
22
The king had proclaimed his Name Day and Ur was in violent celebration. As she had guessed, he had named the day after the ridiculous canal the slaves had dug. The citizens of the kingdom were too drunk and exhausted to care, but perhaps tomorrow, they would speak in hushed whispers about what to do with their idiot king.
Ama stayed inside her house. Fadil was stretched out upon the pallet. His breathing was shallow and he burned with fever. He had regained consciousness several times before slipping back under. He'd looked at her in bewilderment, his eyes darting back and forth.
"Monsters," he'd breathed. "Ušumgallu."
"You dreamed. You're ill," she'd whispered as she mopped his brow.
"No. Real. And you. You--"
"Shhh. I'm here to take care of you."
More than half the day had disappeared. Ama was hungry. The beast was hungrier. The fight with the other nephilim had exhausted all its energy. Flakes of grey skin had started to peel from her arms and legs.
She sat cross-legged next to the pallet, hand in Fadil's. The Ušumgallu had infected him. Four long, deep scratches marked his flesh. The man would not likely survive.
The joyous cacophony of the afternoon's celebration was maddening, but it kept her awake. With the beast in so much need, she feared it would take her while she slept and hasten Fadil's demise. As it was, her free hand held four lapis stones.
It took her a moment to realize someone was knocking at her door. Ama looked up at the ancient olive wood and felt the beast stir. It was exhausted, but always ready for a fight. Ama let go of Fadil's clammy hand, dropped the stones to the floor, and raised herself.
She opened the door a crack and blinked. A pale face stared in at her. The eyes were gray and the flesh virginal. The beast growled in hunger.
"Yes?"
"Sin Annah wishes to see you."
"Who?"
The girl smiled. "May I come in?"
"What do you--"
"Your man. He is ill. Sin Annah sent me to pray over him while she speaks with you."
Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga) Page 17