Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga)

by Paul E. Cooley

  "Dir," she answered, her head lowered.

  "Raise your eyes, Dir."

  The servant girl reluctantly met his gaze. Drimesh nodded.

  "You are very beautiful, Dir."

  The girl said nothing.

  "Are you betrothed?"

  A look of confusion crossed her face. "Betrothed, sir?"

  "Are you married? Do you have a husband?"

  She shook her head. "No, sir. My parents are poor."

  "Of course, Dir. Of course." He patted her shoulder. He uncoiled his inner strength as much as he dared. "Perhaps you will see me after the evening is over?"

  He watched her body shudder, the beer slopping in the jug. Her face went slack and she closed her eyes. He watched her head tilt back, her graceful neck bared to him.

  "Oh," she whispered.

  His own eyes fluttered. His loins stirred as a wave of pleasure drifted from her body to his. The hunger demanded he go further, let himself consume her, but he pulled back.

  Dir let out a soft groan of regret, her eyes again fastening on his.

  "You will find me?"

  She nodded.

  "That's a good girl." He sipped from his mug.

  She shuffled back a step from him, her face filled with confused want. Once she stood solid, she bowed to him, turned, and quickly made her way back into the crowd.

  "Dir," he whispered. She would be perfect.

  The crowd cheered as a tall man walked onto the courtyard stage. The celebration was underway.

  He watched with disinterest as the acrobats strutted out, their naked bodies cartwheeling and bending in the torchlit night. They danced in rhythmic contortions, touching their palms to the stage while their feet remained solid upon the ground. As one, they pushed with their hands, lifting their legs high in the air, holding the handstand while the crowd applauded.

  Drimesh sipped at his beer, letting the warm liquid coat his throat. Women sat or stood with their husbands, eyes riveted to the spectacle. The drumming increased as did the acrobats' movements. Running, jumping, twirling.

  Another hunger pang wracked his body. So many people in the crowd. So many women. He could smell them. The scent of those in estrus, the ones with child and those who were perfect for him.

  "You will see them," his mother had told him, "you will see them and know them by their scent, their look. You will know which ones are yours."

  Ama had prepared him as best she could, but not even her lessons were enough to keep him from losing his home. The tribe of Abraham had made sure of that.

  He took another sip of beer. The lapis cuff stored in his pocket seemed to burn.

  The acrobats finished to a roar of applause and cheering.

  Drimesh scanned the crowd, looking for the servant girl Dir. After a few moments, he spied her walking to the edge of the crowd. He closed his eyes and focused. "Come to me," he whispered.

  The young woman jerked upright. She slowly turned from the couple she was serving, her eyes meeting his. He smiled at her. A cautious grin spread over her face.

  She swung her head back to the couple as the man yelled something at her. Drimesh saw her bow, pouring more beer into their cups. She walked away without receiving payment.

  "Did they not pay you?" he asked as she approached.

  She shook her head. "The honorable Truyane felt I should not be paid for such neglectful service."

  Drimesh nodded. "How much do you require?"

  Her brows raised in a question. "How much do I require--"

  "To leave off for the night?"

  "How much do I need to make?"

  "Yes. You pay a tithe to the vendor."

  "20 slices."

  "And that is before you earn a single coin." He clucked his tongue. "This won't do." Drimesh reached into his tunic pocket, felt the edges of two oblong coins and brought them out. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the two shekels. "Enough?"

  "My lord," she said. "It is too much."

  Drimesh laughed. "Take them, Dir. On one condition." A worried look crossed her face. "You accompany me away from this place."

  He reached forward, took her hand, and placed the two coins on her palm. He closed her fingers around the silver. "Fair?"

  A flush rose to her cheeks. "I--"

  "I only want a companion," he said.

  The crowd cheered again as more performers took the stage. The noise was enough to make his ears ring. She looked over her shoulder at the stage and then back to him. "Companion," she mouthed and then smiled.

  Drimesh nodded and stood. He fought the weakness in his legs. The hunger was devouring him. He let some of it touch her. She shivered. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. The twitching in her legs intensified. He leaned forward and breathed on her neck.

  Above the crowd's cheers, he heard her whimper. Drimesh grasped her hand and began walking. She followed behind him, her face lost in an expression of bewildered joy.

  4

  By the time he left his home, the sun was high in the sky. His belly gurgled for food. While he ate a meal of dried fish and bread, he stared at the lapis cuff on the table.

  The stone was less rich in color, faded by the night's activity. The hunger was satisfied for now, but it would return. By next market day, he would have to purchase another piece from the lapis man.

  Dir hadn't asked why she had to wear the cuff while they tangled on his pallet. By the time they had reached his home, there were no thoughts in her mind except for primal lust. She had used him for her pleasure just as he had used her to sate his hunger.

  When she left before the sun rose over Babylon's walls, she wore a confused smile. She would, of course, forget him in time. The art of forgetting was something Ama had taught him very early on.

  Drimesh pocketed the cuff in his tunic and checked his money pouch. Still full. He wouldn't have to resort to visiting the wealthy for quite some time. He walked out into the sun and headed toward the river.

  The city always woke late after market day, the evening's celebration and entertainment often going on long into the night. Hammurabi encouraged all citizens to partake in the event. Drimesh knew it was another way to keep the streets quiet and safe. If the impoverished were able to enjoy the night mingling with the wealthy, it kept them from feeling like the second class citizens they were.

  Only the slaves were sometimes kept from the celebrations, required to tend to children or the homes of the well-to-do. In Ur, slaves were rewarded for service and punished for lack of it. In Babylon, slaves were rewarded for service and executed if found to be substandard.

  Hammurabi's laws only ever mentioned slaves within the context of property, never of rights. Drimesh had bristled at this when first he reached Babylon, but now he understood. Whereas Ur had been a place of feuds, conspiracy, and murder, Babylon was intolerant of any infractions. Hammurabi ruled with an iron fist and it showed.

  The thief in the alley that attacked him was not the first, and would not be the last. The gurgling sounds of the river reached his ears, but he hardly noticed. The thief in the alley hadn't been poor. The man had had some wealth, although from a trade or from his thieving was unclear.

  Drimesh passed a line of women heading back from the day's wash. Kasha grass woven baskets sat atop their heads, filled with damp skirts and cloth. He glanced at them out of the corners of his eyes. The bottom of their robes were dark with river water. It was considered rude to stare, so he didn't.

  He walked north, heading upstream where the water was unsullied by the filth of the city. The river was a great dichotomy. Downstream of Babylon, it was filled with the leavings of the people. The color changed from deep green into a blackish, brackish hue. Upstream, it was fresh, crisp and emerald.

  The city people didn't bathe often, but Ama had taught Drimesh to keep himself clean to avoid spreading plague or other disease.

  "People are not immune, Drimesh. They get sick and die," she'd said. "After you feed, you must ensure you wash as soon as possib
le. It's the only way to ensure their health."

  He continued walking. Ahead in the olive groves, he saw a mix of purple and red. He frowned. Someone was in his swimming spot. Someone important.

  With each step, the gathering behind the olive grove was more clear. Two large men in loincloths stood behind several women. Arms crossed, the dark skinned men looked across the river toward the opposite bank. A line of purple clothed women sat in front of them, heads bowed.

  His foot stepped on a dry olive branch. The snapping wood made a hollow crack beneath his sandal. The two men turned as one, their faces grim and foreboding.

  "Who are you?" one of them challenged.

  "I am Drimesh," he said with a bow.

  The giant who had spoken pivoted and walked toward him. "You must leave, free-man. The priestess is in the river."

  "Of course, slave." Drimesh accented the last word and saw the glint in the giant's eye. "But this is where I swim."

  "Golnath?" a voice called from the water. "What is it?"

  The giant turned back toward the bank. "My apologies, your worship. A man has come to swim."

  "Bring him," the voice said.

  Golnath ground his teeth together, but opened his large fist, beckoning to Drimesh.

  Drimesh bowed again and stepped forward through the olive branches.

  His breath caught in his chest as he looked out at the water. The woman, the priestess, he had seen at yesterday's market was treading water in the green river. She smiled.

  "I have interrupted your swim," Drimesh said with a bow. "I will move further upstream."

  "What do you think, Golnath?"

  "I think he would pollute the water. Best he go downstream, worship."

  The woman laughed. "But Golnath, then wouldn't he be bathing in holy water?"

  Golnath said nothing and dropped his eyes to his sandals.

  "Even so," Drimesh said with a bow, "I shall retreat and leave you--"

  "Nonsense," she said. She pointed to the other women on the bank. "These are my attendants." The women remained bowed as if in prayer. "They will not mind."

  "And what about you, your worship?"

  She laughed. "What god is yours?"

  Drimesh felt his stomach flutter. She was obviously a priestess of Ishtar. Since coming to Babylon, he'd managed to keep track of only a few of the gods worshipped in the city. Ur had once had many gods too, but now Abraham's tribes had managed to drive most of the worshippers out or convert them.

  "I worship an old one. From my native land."

  The priestess nodded. "Then you do not worship Ishtar?"

  He shook his head.

  She sighed. "That is a pity. What do you think Golnath?"

  Golnath glared at him. "I think it is unseemly for a priestess to be seen with a heathen."

  "Ishtar loves all, covets all, serves all," the woman said. "Even the heathen. So what is your name, heathen?"

  "His name is Drimeth," Golnath growled.

  "Drimesh. Not Drimeth."

  The large man swung his gaze from the priestess and glared once more. "Drimesh, your worship."

  She tittered. "Undress him, Golnath."

  Drimesh heard Golnath's breath seize. The large man grunted. Eyes filled with hate, he walked within arm's reach. "Turn around, sir." Drimesh did as ordered. Large, meaty fingers reached around his waist, untying his garments.

  Drimesh felt the large digits maneuver the rope's knot, loosening and massaging. The tunic opened. His naked skin felt cool and then warmed beneath the high sun.

  "I will break you in half if you touch her," Golnath whispered in his ear.

  Drimesh nodded.

  The large man held the tunic high and began folding it. He placed it next to a pile of purple and red robes. Golnath bowed to the priestess.

  "May I see you, Drimesh?" she asked. Drimesh turned his body, his naked waist pointing toward the river. "You are very beautiful, although underfed."

  Drimesh blushed as he bowed. "Thank you."

  "Please," she said. "I would like to see you swim."

  Drimesh walked forward, weaving his way through the sitting attendants. He stepped down the gradual clay bank and into the green river. The water instantly cooled his feet. He kept his eyes focused on the green river water as it consumed him, not daring to look at the woman. When the water rose to his chest, he finally looked up. She was several lengths from him, still treading water and smiling.

  "Thank you for allowing me to swim with you," he said.

  "Thank you for keeping me company."

  He paddled slowly to within a length of her and then tread water. "I have not seen you here before."

  She laughed. "I am recently of age," she said. "I've been in the temple a long time.

  "You were an acolyte."

  "Yes. Learning."

  Drimesh nodded. He lay on his back in the water. His bronze skin reflected the sun off the droplets of water. He lazily back-stroked in a circle. The priestess laughed.

  "I have not seen that before."

  He stopped, letting his legs fall. "You should try it. The hot sun feels good against the skin, your worship."

  "My name is Ishtal," she said.

  Her smile was infectious and he felt himself return it. "Ishtal. Your parents--"

  "No. The high priestess named me."

  "You are the only priestess I've ever seen outside the city."

  "It is permitted. Provided you have an escort." Her delicate hand rose above the water and gestured toward the shore.

  "I fear Golnath does not like me."

  She giggled. "Temple eunichs. They have already given their manhood to the goddess. If I was hurt under their watch, they would give their life in recompense. That is a sacrifice they seem less willing to make."

  Drimesh laughed. "Shall I teach you to swim on your back?"

  "Yes," Ishtal said. "Please."

  "Float on your back, your worship."

  She raised her legs, barely moving her hands to stay afloat in the water.

  Drimesh took in a slow, deep breath. Sunlight cascaded off her small breasts, nipples erect from the cold water. Her water-dappled pubic hair sparkled beneath the sunlight.

  "Now raise your arms, one at a time," he said in a shaking voice, "and hit the water like I showed you." As she did so he watched from near the shore. "Make sure you keep your hand closed like a paddle and push against Mother River."

  He watched her slowly circle him. Dir may have sated his hunger the night before, but he felt it stirring again, threatening to brim over. His member was fully erect and pulsing with want.

  "Swim with me," she said.

  "As you wish." He pushed down the need, willing himself flaccid, lay on his back, and slowly pushed himself next to her. The river current had carried them some distance from where Golnath and the attendants were camped. "Perhaps we should swim back upstream?"

  "Yes," Ishtal agreed. "Before that fool Golnath comes in after us and drowns."

  Drimesh chuckled.

  Ishtal moved slowly against the green river water. Drimesh forced himself to slow down, not pass her up. He tried not to glance over at her, but was powerless to resist.

  The curve of her hips, long dark-skinned legs, the gentle swell of her breasts... Drimesh felt the hunger rise and pushed it down once more.

  The swim back to where they had started was excruciating. Drimesh knew it hadn't taken long, but it felt like eternity. It had taken every ounce of his control to keep the hunger from overtaking him.

  When Ishtal finally let her body relax back into the water, the hunger diminished. Slightly.

  "Thank you for the lesson, Drimesh."

  She flipped over and swam away, her hands cutting the water in front of her.

  "My pleasure, priestess."

  He tried not to stare as she moved away. The hunger demanded her. Demanded.

  Drimesh counted himself lucky he was once more treading water and his waist was hidden from view.

  Sh
e reached the shore and walked up the clay bank. The attendants bowed to her, and then swaddled her in robes. She turned back to him and waved. The party walked through the olive groves, heading toward the city.

  Golnath remained behind, staring down at Drimesh. The glare in the large man's eyes was unmistakable--it was pure hate. "Do not swim with her again."

  "Not unless she asks."

  "Even then," Golnath growled. "Or pay the price."

  The large man bowed and then turned to follow his charges.

  Drimesh shook his head. The hunger was still there, pulsing. Drimesh turned from the bank and began a fast swim up stream, the sun warming his back. If nothing else, a little exercise would keep the hunger at bay.

  5

  The walk back to the city was too hot. The sun had passed its zenith and the afternoon heat rained down like a plague.

  At least the swim had cleared his head and the hunger. The image of Ishtal swimming on her back, her beautiful body displayed to him, had been difficult to push away.

  How many had he fed upon in his life? They were like grains of sand in a vast desert--anonymous, unremarkable, innumerable, and unmemorable. Even the memories of Dir, her body writhing beneath his touch, his taste, his joining with her, were beginning to fade.

  Would he remember Ishtal?

  He smiled as he reached the city walls. "Yes," he thought, "I would remember her and treat her the way Ama had taught."

  ***

  His mother, older than Abraham's Yahweh, had made sure he learned how to please women.

  "You are love," Ama had said. "We love, we do not destroy."

  The boy, just beginning the pain of puberty, sat cross-legged on the soft dirt. Mother River gurgled in the quiet night.

  "This is a lesson you must learn before you learn to feed, Drim."

  She had always called him Drim. Ama's baby name for him. He bristled at the sound. He was used to being naked in her presence, and used to seeing her naked as well. But tonight, with the change slowly spreading through his body, he felt too exposed. Embarrassed.

  "Look at me." Drimesh raised his eyes from the river and turned. Ama stood naked in the moonlight. Despite the lines in her face, she was still beautiful. Despite her age, her body was still the same as he remembered from childhood. "Do you see me?"