by K. M. Ashman
‘In the middle of the night, a hyena’s cry broke the darkness and everyone knew that the gods of the dead had come to claim their latest victim. I was taken outside the thorns of our village boundary and despite my illness, I was fully aware of the fate that awaited me. The villagers formed a large half circle and illuminated the scene with burning torches. The drums started and the villagers chanted, summoning the bringer of death to accept their offering so other children may live. For an age, I lay in the dust, waiting for the death to arrive. Finally, through the darkness, I could see the light of the fire reflecting in its eyes. There was only one and he circled for an age, for hyena were wary of men even back then, but hunger has a way of making the weak strong and he soon entered the clearing. I knew I was about to die and closed my eyes to await my fate, but before he dragged me off, another hyena entered the clearing and challenged the first.’
‘This had never been seen before, but as soon as it entered the torchlight, my people knew it was different. It was sick with the madness disease that sometimes afflicts the dogs of the village. The fur was hanging and bloody foam fell from its jaws. The eyes were wild and it attacked the other hyena with madness in its soul. The fight was terrible and the mad one killed the smaller one, but still the bloodlust was high, and it turned its attention on me. I still remember the way it half ran and half fell toward me, for it too was grievously wounded. Yet it had strength still to claim its last victim. As it neared, I could smell death upon its breath and stared in horror as the stinking juices from the sores around its gums ran down the huge teeth to drip onto the floor. I was too weak to scream, and as it sank its jaws into my side, I passed out in pain.’
‘I know of this disease,’ said Ramesses. ‘When the dogs of the village suffer from it, they turn mad with rage, and all are killed by the men.’
‘What happened next was told to me by my mother,’ continued Sekhmet, ‘for I had no recollection. The mad Hyena dragged me into the darkness but evidently, he had no strength left to finish his kill, for when the sun rose, the returning hunting party found the dead body of the animal in the bush. Alongside it was my body, and though I was weak from blood loss, I still lived. My father carried me back to the village and the people saw it as a miracle. Nobody had ever returned from the jaws of death and it was a sign. I was still ill from the sleeping illness and my wound from the hyena festered with pus and filth, yet they persevered, and ultimately, I recovered from both to take my place within the village.’
‘But something was different. Deep inside I knew I had somehow changed. On the one hand, I felt strong and healthier than I could ever remember, but on the other side, I found that the sun gave me aches that I had never experienced before. I stayed out of the sun, preferring to walk about after it had set, when the nights were cool and the sky was dark. Also, I struggled to keep down my food and always begged my family to share whatever meat they could spare from their bowls. Eventually, I could not eat the berries or the seeds of the gatherings and sought out the bird’s eggs and lizards of the undergrowth. Every opportunity I could I foraged for anything that walked, swam, or flew, scorning the cornmeal that was our main food. At first, my mother accepted my strange ways, as she was so happy to have me alive, but eventually, the whispers of the village reached her ears and she started to see me as they did. It was said that I had been infected by the hyena and was taking on its human form. At first, my mother chased away the whisperers with a stick and even when one night she caught me crouched over the body of a village dog, eating its raw flesh, she covered for me. I told her that I had found it dead, but when she saw my knife and the way I had slit its throat, she knew that there was something seriously wrong. Finally, on the night of the fruit festival, I did something so awful that not even a mother’s love could protect me from the wrath of the village.’
‘What did you do?’ asked Ramesses.
‘You have to understand, Ramesses, I cannot even begin to describe the hunger this state brings. It envelops every cell of your very being and nothing else exists except the need to drink blood. I was living on frogs, birds and rats. Anything with a beating heart, I targeted, and I killed more than a few dogs to satisfy my needs. Finally, I committed the ultimate crime.’ Sekhmet’s voice lowered and took on a husky tone. ‘I couldn’t help it, Ramesses; I was drawn to her like a snake smells out its prey. The whimpers in the darkest hour were enticing me toward where she lay and I knew the villagers were lost in the sleep of the drunk after the festival. It was too easy, and when I entered the hut with no challenge, there was no stopping me. There she was, lying on the bed skins alongside her mother, and I could actually hear her heart beating. Each thump followed by the rush of blood as it poured through her tiny veins.’
‘You could hear the blood flowing?’ asked Ramesses in astonishment.
‘As loud as if it was a river,’ said Sekhmet, ‘and I knew that nothing would stop me from tasting that young, fresh liquid. I picked up the baby and ran into the night.’
‘I won’t bore you with the details, Ramesses,’ she said after a while, ‘but suffice to say, they chased me from the village. In fact they hunted me for days, determined to cast my body from the highest cliffs as a witch, but I was too quick for them. Fleet of foot, I travelled by night and ran unhindered through the darkness. I could see as if it was the brightest day, and for the first time in my life, I felt so alive. By day, I hid in the darkest recesses I could find. I found clefts in the rocks, hollow logs, or even crawled under the rotten leaves on the forest floors. The insects that shared my hiding places no longer held any fear for me. In fact, their scurrying bodies sustained me, when food was scarce. But it was never scarce for long. I learned to avoid the predators and exist alongside the villages throughout the land. It would only be a matter of time before a cow was left alone, or a dog was enticed by my friendly call and both were used as a food source. I learned quickly and where possible, I would just nick the vein of a cow to drink directly without causing harm. That way I could stay in one place for a long time without being found out, but always my need for human blood would let me down. That was my weakness and I lost count of the times I was driven away from villages as a devil.’
‘You were still a girl,’ said Ramesses, ‘How did you survive?’
‘I don’t know, Ramesses. Perhaps predators recognize other predators and stay away. I fed on everything from insects to humans. I learned how to walk in the shadows without making a noise and to kill ruthlessly and efficiently. For years I wandered the landscape and I became known as a demon. Eventually people stopped reviling me and started to revere me as a vengeful goddess. Sacrifices were left out to appease me, usually animals, but occasionally, humans as well. The condemned, the ill, and the old were often staked out in the dark as an offering. I repaid their homage by leaving their children alone and soon I was an accepted part of their lives. Nobody knew what I looked like, for those unfortunate to see me close up, usually died within seconds.’
‘Over time I grew strong and fast. I knew no fear and revelled in my status as goddess to these people. I lost track of time and before I knew it, my body had matured. I had seen civilizations come and go and had travelled across lands from ocean to ocean. It was during this time I found out another gift that I had, and that was the ability to bestow eternal life on other humans.’
Ramesses unconsciously sat up, fascinated by the tale. This was what he had come to find out, how to become immortal.
‘How?’ he asked, ‘what is the process required to bestow this gift.’
‘You see it as a gift, Ramesses?’ asked Sekhmet with scorn in her voice. ‘For I see it as a curse. If indeed you were to become as I, what sort of king would you be? You would have to live in the dark, feeding on nothing but blood, unable to walk your kingdom. How would you achieve the great things you aspire to then, Ramesses? How could you be the greatest king that ever lived, when you would be no more than a prince of darkness?’
‘I see the burden, Sekhm
et,’ said Ramesses, ‘and I accept that it may not be the right path. At least; not yet.’
‘And when would the time be right, Ramesses?’ asked Sekhmet.
‘When age creeps upon me like a predator,’ said Ramesses. ‘During the days of my life, I could build my kingdom with you in the background and when the sleep of eternity is close, you could then bestow your gift upon me, extending my rule by thousands of years.’
‘Your ambition knows no bounds, Ramesses,’ she said.
‘I will be the greatest king this land has ever seen,’ said Ramesses. ‘That is written. Your gift will enable me to become the greatest of all time, so tell me, Sekhmet, what is this gift?’
‘Over the years, I noticed changes in my body,’ said Sekhmet. ‘When I hunted it was usually to feed, but as I became more powerful, any compassion I once held, fled my body forever. I revelled in my power and often hunted just for the thrill. Many nights I killed indiscriminately, and I often slew dozens in one night. I held no fear and no man would stand against me. I was all-powerful, but there was still a trace of one emotion, floundering in a sea of evil. Since my time as a child I had talked to no person, except to announce their imminent death.’
‘You were lonely?’ guessed Ramesses.
‘I was,’ said Sekhmet, ‘then one night something happened that changed all that.
‘What happened?’
‘I had killed early and fed well. The drained corpse was discarded in the river and the crocodiles would ensure that all signs would be gone by morning. Despite this, when a young woman wandered past my resting place near a waterfall, I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed her and dragged her to my lair. She pleaded with me for her life and as I sank my teeth into a throat, I paused and stopped myself from tearing the flesh wide open. Instead, I sucked gently at the flow, drinking of her blood, yet allowing my own juices to flow into the wound. I don’t know how I had the restraint to do that, as the tearing open of the throat is not just the quickest way of making a kill, but it also gives the greatest pleasure. Yet that is what happened. As that rabid hyena’s juices had flowed into my body as a child, mine flowed into that of my victim. She passed out and was unconscious for days. I watched her writhe as the pains wracked her body, and left her only to hunt. Finally she pulled out of her torment and looked up at me with hunger in her eyes and I knew immediately that she had changed.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I cut the throat of a rat and held it to her mouth. At first she lapped at it like a puppy, but soon grabbed it from me and tore into it as if it was the finest meal she had ever tasted.’
‘She was as you?’
‘She was. Over the next few nights, I hunted for her as her strength returned and we talked through the night. At first she rebelled and tried to run, but I tied her there, and over time, saw her eyes take on the blackness of the blood she so readily devoured. She begged to be allowed to go back to her people, but soon realized that the sun burned at her eyes. Finally I let her go and she ran into the darkness. Three days she was gone, until one night I heard her approaching. She stood before me, begging me to find her blood to drink. I opened one of my own veins in my arm and she drank as if was the best thing in this life. From that moment I knew she was mine and I taught her the skills needed to survive.’
‘What was her name?’ asked Ramesses
‘She was known as Mukarramma,’ said Sekhmet.
‘And was she immortal?’ asked Ramesses.
‘It turned out she was,’ said Sekhmet, ‘and she hunted alongside me for many years. Together we terrorized the lands and children had nightmares in their beds, dreaming of the spirits that stole them away in the dead of night. We never stayed in one place too long, but moved from country to country, feeling no discomfort from the weather, except of course, the ravages of the sun, for that luxury was denied us.’
‘Will you die in the sun’s embrace?’ asked Ramesses
‘No, but the pain it causes is excruciating and we weaken to the point of collapse. Left in its glare, we would be helpless to defend ourselves and be reduced to uselessness. At that point, we are at our weakest. I have no idea why, but it is a burden that comes with the gift.’
‘So you live only during the hours of darkness?’
‘Usually, yes. We can spend short times in the sun or stay in the shadows, but it is far easier if we make the night our realm.’
‘So where is Mukarramma now?’ asked Ramesses
‘She is dead,’ said Sekhmet.
‘I thought you said your kind couldn’t die.’
‘Her body no longer has form and her soul wanders without substance. To the likes of you, that is death.’
‘How do you know she is dead?’
‘Because I killed her.’
‘Why?’ asked Ramesses.
‘For an age, we were as one. Hunting together by day and laying up at night. We were always on the move, but eventually we found somewhere where we were welcomed. We found a city who embraced our needs and we were feted as gods. That had happened to me before, but the interest soon wanes. I would rather hunt prey that fears the outcome, than feed on tethered humans offered as sacrifice. The chase makes the blood race through my veins and I feel as if I am once more as alive as those who live in the sun. Where is the fun in killing the weak, the old, and the sick?’
‘So you moved on?’
‘I did, but Mukarramma stayed. She embraced their worship and installed herself as ruler of that place, accepting the sacrifices they offered.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I left her to it and wandered as I had for generations. But one day I had cause to go past that place again and what I found raised a fury such as I had never known. Over the years, she had made others such as us and the city was overrun by our kind. The surrounding lands were devoid of animal life and every human was either dead or tethered as a food source.’
‘And why did this raise your ire?’ asked Ramesses.
‘For over a thousand years, I was unique, Ramesses. Kings spoke my name in awe, and though I hunted their finest, they knew my wrath would move on and the people were allowed to return to normal until I passed their way again. I was a demon, a spirit of the night that could never be caught. When Mukarramma cheapened our existence, I knew the mystery of our species would be laid open to the world. Kings fearing our expansion would send armies against us and discover the means by which we can die. Even if they were unsuccessful and our numbers became too many to overcome, there could only ever be one outcome, the end of our race.’
‘How?’
‘Humans provide our sustenance, Ramesses. What shepherd kills all his flock in one season? The way Mukarramma was propagating our kind was unsustainable.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I sought them out,’ said Sekhmet, ‘and killed them all.’
‘Every one?’
‘Every one. I ripped open their throats and threw the remains into the flames. The screams of their damned souls still echo in my thoughts.’
‘And Mukarramma?’
‘She fled, but I followed her across three countries, until I cornered her in these lands. She fell to her knees and begged for her life; for us to carry on as we had before, hunting side by side as sisters.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I ripped out her heart with my bare hands and fed her body to the crocodiles.’
Ramesses fell quiet for a long time as the information sunk in.
‘You are shocked?’ asked Sekhmet.
‘Confused,’ said Ramesses. ‘You say you slew those who Mukarramma had made in your image, yet even here in these caverns I see other such as you. What is so different?’
‘The difference is, I decide, Ramesses,’ said Sekhmet. ‘My sisters exist at my whim. If I tire of them, then I destroy them. Not since Mukarramma have I allowed myself to get close to another. My rule is absolute and they exist only as long as I allow them to. Look at my body, Ramesses. Even your
untrained eye can see that it approaches the time where it cannot move as it once did. It may be thousands of years, Ramesses, but I am now growing old and I need the sisters to hunt for me. Every night they scour the villages of the poor to bring me the sustenance I need. Yet the time is coming when even they will see my weakness and I have no doubt that one will seize their chance to replace me.’
‘So why don’t you do to them as you did to Mukarramma’s followers?’
‘Look at me, Ramesses, my time is done. It is time to step aside to allow a worthy replacement to replace my kind at the top of the food chain.’
‘And is there such a one?’ asked Ramesses.
Sekhmet remained silent.
Understanding dawned in Ramesses’ eyes and he glanced toward the doorway where the young girl had exited the room earlier.
‘It’s her isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You intend to make Nephthys your successor.’
‘She is worthy,’ said Sekhmet, quietly, ‘and will make a truly great immortal.’
Ramesses sat back and stared at Sekhmet, his mind racing.
‘But there is another option, Sekhmet,’ he said. ‘Make me your successor and I will ensure your name is venerated in every corner of this land.’
‘I can’t do that, Ramesses,’ she said.
‘Why not?’ asked Ramesses, ‘I am already the greatest king this land has ever seen. Who greater to carry on your species?’
‘You do not understand, Ramesses,’ she said. ‘Even if I agree with you, it is impossible.’’