No one believed him at first. It was too unlikely. Irisi was not even vaguely furry… and Sebi was considered a bit of a dope. But… sometimes stories stick and fester over time. It took two weeks before the first rumblings started.
* * *
“Djal?”
The voice startled Djal as he stood contemplating his irrigation system.
“Manu, greetings,” he replied, “How are your crops?”
Manu replied vaguely, a strange look in his eye.
Djal figured he’d head off the niceties and get to the point. “What is it, my friend?”
“Your daughter.”
“Irisi?”
“She’s your only one.”
Djal frowned. Manu was rarely this chilly.
“Yes, she is. What do you want with her?”
“She been interfering with things she shouldn’t?”
Djal thought of the rumors moving about town. About Sebi and the lions. And the jackal creature.
“No more than any girl her age, Manu. Are you talking about Sebi and the lion attack?”
“Yes, I am. That boy claims your daughter turned into an animal beast. Like maybe… a devil.”
Djal shook his head. “What you’re describing could be any teenager, my friend. She’s never been involved with anything weirder than berry makeup or pillow fighting. Don’t tell me the weird stories are getting in your head, too.”
Manu grunted. “They’re not so weird. My wife told me in her village a bandit once got caught pinching some gold from a house. When a man and his brother cornered the thief, he turned into a beast and ripped their heads clean off.”
Djal pointed up. “Sometimes the gods come down and walk with us. Perhaps they had a hand in it.”
“In thievery and murder?”
“Perhaps the men had stolen the gold themselves.”
Manu shook his head. “They were just normal townfolk, Djal. That wasn’t no god. That was a monster. Like maybe the thing that killed the lions. Like maybe a girl could be, secretly. Like a – ”
“That’s enough, Manu. I won’t let you drag my daughter into your devil talk. I enjoy being friend with you – but leave off on my family.”
Manu spit on the ground and studied the drying spot he left. Quietly, he nodded, then looked back at Djal.
“I’m not the only one, Djal. People are a bit worried. There have been other stories of killing and beast-men and such. Just watch your back. Your daughter may be fine… but don’t count on everyone being easy to convince.”
Djal clapped his hand on Manu’s shoulder. “I won’t. You’re a good man. Head it off. You know me… you know my daughter. We have no enemies and don’t intend to start now. I’ll offer extra sacrifices and pray that any evil stays away.”
Manu turned to leave, then stopped and looked back. “Better pray hard.”
Djal watched him leave, then looked back at his suddenly less-interesting irrigation trenches.
He and Irisi needed to talk.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Bloodline: Godseed (Pt. III)
The subject of her scorn was clueless. They were walking together at the edge of Djal’s field, idly plucking unripe heads off the yellowing wheat. Sebi had been showing off a bit, picking up a large rock and throwing it as far as he could. His skill at throwing was good… but his skill with impressing the ladies left something to be desired.
“I can also win a butting contest with a goat, Irisi! You should see me!”
Irisi didn’t want to.
“This one time, I was having a butting contest and got hit in the head so hard by our he-goat that I saw visions. But I didn’t fall over. And I grabbed his beard and bit him on the leg and he ran off.”
Irisi didn’t care.
“Dad beat me that night, ‘cause he said I shouldn’t be biting his good animals. But the goat started it. I was just in there next to him, you know, rearing up and stamping the ground at him.”
Irisi wished Sebi would shut his mouth.
“We were gonna castrate him but he’s too perfect a he-goat, so Dad’s gonna make him the sacrifice. That’s why he was mad. Doesn’t want any marks.”
Irisi didn’t really know anything about castration but wished it on Sebi.
The two of them had played together since they were little. Yet as Irisi had gotten older, her intellect had passed that of her playmate – and now, at age thirteen, she was significantly smarter than Sebi and found his company rather tedious.
Besides, today she was wearing her very first wig and he hadn’t even mentioned it.
Unpardonable!
Mom said she was a woman now – and soon she probably shouldn’t be playing with Sebi at all. Everyone told horror stories about boys, of course – and most of them were surely true – but Irisi wasn’t worried.
As they walked she was lost in her thoughts. After a few moments, she realized Sebi was no longer chattering or showing off. She felt a tingle up her spine as she turned and saw the look on his face. He was frozen in the path a few yards behind her, staring into the scrub. Following his gaze, she saw its focus.
A lion!?!
It was a female, crouched amidst the brush. As they both stared in terror – another one appeared in the path ahead! A massive male, mane wild, eyes fierce. It roared horrifyingly, shaking the ground beneath them. Sebi found his voice, screamed and turned his back on both the lions, hauling off in a run as fast as his legs would carry him. In a snap, the female took chase – and was quickly joined by another on the other side!
Time slowed down as a strange new sensation swept through Irisi’s body. A thrill of adrenaline and a surge of some god-power! Her arms and legs felt different… stronger. Her lips curled back over powerful jaws. And her clothing was suddenly awkward on her newly furry and muscled form.
Before she knew what happened, she had caught up to the lionesses just as they reached Sebi. One bit into his leg as Irisi tore at its back, trying to find purchase. The other batted at her, cutting a gash in her arm. She bit off its paw with a snap, causing it to half-limp and half-run to cover... then she sunk her fangs into the throat of the other female. The gush of blood startled and delighted her.
Sebi lay on the ground, and as she guzzled the red liquor from the neck of the now-still lioness, she realized with puzzlement that he was screaming at the top of his lungs.
At her.
His leg was bloody but likely savable, she thought. She’d have to carry him back home. Somehow, becoming whatever she’d become didn’t feel strange. It felt… right. She licked her lips and waved to Sebi. He fainted.
With interest, Irisi looked at her limbs. Long hairy limbs, sinewed and powerful. Claws like acacia thorns. Somehow, she still felt feminine – but the power was incredible! Marvelous! Intoxicating!
She went over to Sebi and picked him up easily. What had happened to her? Who knew – but she bet she could now out-chuck him in a rock-throwing contest!
She heard a little whimper behind her. A scrap dog was inspecting the dead lioness and looking at her expectantly.
“Go ahead – eat it!”
The dog stood still, waiting. She realized it was observing some sort of protocol. With sudden insight, she gently set down Sebi’s limp form and went back to the carcass. As the dog watched, she took a large bite, chewed, swallowed, rubbed her stomach as if full, then repeated “Go ahead… eat!” (She had to admit – it WAS delicious, but there was no time now!) Picking up Sebi, she saw that the dog was now eating.
Funny, that. Like when they got around her in a circle that day…
As she got closer to home, Sebi suddenly woke and realized he was being carried. This time he seemed to have his wits about him a bit more. At least he wasn't screaming. He cocked his head around and looked in her eyes, puzzled, half-scared, and as stupid as always.
“Irisi?”
She grinned broadly… and one look at her fangs put him back under.
“I can also win a butting contest with a goat, Irisi! You should see me!”
Irisi didn’t want to.
“This one time, I was having a butting contest and got hit in the head so hard by our he-goat that I saw visions. But I didn’t fall over. And I grabbed his beard and bit him on the leg and he ran off.”
Irisi didn’t care.
“Dad beat me that night, ‘cause he said I shouldn’t be biting his good animals. But the goat started it. I was just in there next to him, you know, rearing up and stamping the ground at him.”
Irisi wished Sebi would shut his mouth.
“We were gonna castrate him but he’s too perfect a he-goat, so Dad’s gonna make him the sacrifice. That’s why he was mad. Doesn’t want any marks.”
Irisi didn’t really know anything about castration but wished it on Sebi.
The two of them had played together since they were little. Yet as Irisi had gotten older, her intellect had passed that of her playmate – and now, at age thirteen, she was significantly smarter than Sebi and found his company rather tedious.
Besides, today she was wearing her very first wig and he hadn’t even mentioned it.
Unpardonable!
Mom said she was a woman now – and soon she probably shouldn’t be playing with Sebi at all. Everyone told horror stories about boys, of course – and most of them were surely true – but Irisi wasn’t worried.
As they walked she was lost in her thoughts. After a few moments, she realized Sebi was no longer chattering or showing off. She felt a tingle up her spine as she turned and saw the look on his face. He was frozen in the path a few yards behind her, staring into the scrub. Following his gaze, she saw its focus.
A lion!?!
It was a female, crouched amidst the brush. As they both stared in terror – another one appeared in the path ahead! A massive male, mane wild, eyes fierce. It roared horrifyingly, shaking the ground beneath them. Sebi found his voice, screamed and turned his back on both the lions, hauling off in a run as fast as his legs would carry him. In a snap, the female took chase – and was quickly joined by another on the other side!
Time slowed down as a strange new sensation swept through Irisi’s body. A thrill of adrenaline and a surge of some god-power! Her arms and legs felt different… stronger. Her lips curled back over powerful jaws. And her clothing was suddenly awkward on her newly furry and muscled form.
Before she knew what happened, she had caught up to the lionesses just as they reached Sebi. One bit into his leg as Irisi tore at its back, trying to find purchase. The other batted at her, cutting a gash in her arm. She bit off its paw with a snap, causing it to half-limp and half-run to cover... then she sunk her fangs into the throat of the other female. The gush of blood startled and delighted her.
Sebi lay on the ground, and as she guzzled the red liquor from the neck of the now-still lioness, she realized with puzzlement that he was screaming at the top of his lungs.
At her.
His leg was bloody but likely savable, she thought. She’d have to carry him back home. Somehow, becoming whatever she’d become didn’t feel strange. It felt… right. She licked her lips and waved to Sebi. He fainted.
With interest, Irisi looked at her limbs. Long hairy limbs, sinewed and powerful. Claws like acacia thorns. Somehow, she still felt feminine – but the power was incredible! Marvelous! Intoxicating!
She went over to Sebi and picked him up easily. What had happened to her? Who knew – but she bet she could now out-chuck him in a rock-throwing contest!
She heard a little whimper behind her. A scrap dog was inspecting the dead lioness and looking at her expectantly.
“Go ahead – eat it!”
The dog stood still, waiting. She realized it was observing some sort of protocol. With sudden insight, she gently set down Sebi’s limp form and went back to the carcass. As the dog watched, she took a large bite, chewed, swallowed, rubbed her stomach as if full, then repeated “Go ahead… eat!” (She had to admit – it WAS delicious, but there was no time now!) Picking up Sebi, she saw that the dog was now eating.
Funny, that. Like when they got around her in a circle that day…
As she got closer to home, Sebi suddenly woke and realized he was being carried. This time he seemed to have his wits about him a bit more. At least he wasn't screaming. He cocked his head around and looked in her eyes, puzzled, half-scared, and as stupid as always.
“Irisi?”
She grinned broadly… and one look at her fangs put him back under.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Bloodline: Godseed (Pt. II)
“He” had been a “she.” The little warrior was instead a little princess… though an edgy little dart of energy she was. Akana loved her to death. At last, in a house of boys, she had an ally. Of course… she hadn’t been an ally at first. She’d just been a normal little suckling of an infant, needing care and regular changing.
But now, at six summers, Irisi was everywhere. Taking care of chickens, weaving, sweeping the hard-packed clay of the floor, and occasionally participating in quick and vicious wrestling matches with her older brothers.
It was uncanny how many she won.
Akana could see the strangeness in her eyes, however, and wondered if Djal would notice. If he did, he said nothing. He was a hard-working man, a good man, and, in a time where all infrastructure had been destroyed, a life saver.
As far as they knew, there were only two other families left in the land - those saved by the hands of Ra. They had banded tightly together, forming exploratory parties and sharing their limited resources – but as of yet, they seemed very much alone. Ra rose and Ra set, every day without fail; yet the world of the glorious past was gone forever.
Akana sat weaving and humming to herself, loose threads in her mouth. She missed the fine, dyed stuff she used to own and wished they’d have been able to pack more in the salvation machine.
The smell of bread filled their mud house. Food, shelter, clothing… all the important needs were met.
Suddenly, Irisi crashed through the door.
Akana grinned. “How’s my little woman?”
“Fine.”
“Fine? Are your brothers still with Papa?”
Irisi nodded.
“But you didn’t want to help?”
Irisi shrugged. Akana noticed her hair was getting long. Deep brown curls rolled down her bare sun-browned back. “Are they almost done?”
Irisi shrugged again. She was often like this… so quiet as to be a bit irritating. “Why don’t you talk to your mama, daughter?”
“I don’t have anything to say, mama.”
Akana realized with irritation that she’d cross-threaded a portion of her weaving. She started tugging it right and then noticed something strange.
“Irisi?”
The girl looked up at her from where she sat on the bare floor.
“What’s that mark on your arm?”
Irisi feigned ignorance. “What mark?”
“That one, darling. It looks like… a bite?”
The girl cocked her arm at an angle and studied the small red and purple imprint. She looked at her mom and shrugged yet again.
“Irisi… what happened? Tell me or you’ll not get dinner!”
The girl sighed, crossing her legs under her and putting her head in her hands.
Akana sat silently, waiting for the explanation. Finally, the girl talked, looking out the door as if in another world.
“It was a dog, mama.”
“A dog?”
“One of the yellow ones that Papa chases away from the pens. Scrap dog.”
Akana looked at her with concern. “It just bit you?”
Irisi shook her head. “No, not at first. At first they came close.”
“They?”
“A… flock of them.”
“Pack of them,” Akana corrected, then kicked herself for interrupting. If there really were dangerous dogs about, Djal needed to know. And they needed to keep a much closer eye on the children. Usually the “scrap dogs,” as the children called them, were the furthest thing from aggressive. And wait…
“So – more than one? A group of dogs?”
Irisi continued her tale. “Yes, mama. A flo… a… pack of them came to me when I was picking flowers. By the little pond outside the wheat field.”
Akana had quit her weaving and focused her attention completely on her daughter.
“What happened?”
Irisi looked at her intently. “I think... they came to worship me.”
“Worship???”
“That’s what it looked like. They came in a bunch and made a circle, then came up and were sort of kneeling on their front legs, like we do at the altars. One even put a little animal bone at my feet. It was like a little dog party or something. I was their goddess. It was fun! But then when the mean falcons came, the dogs got upset.”
“What? Falcons? And how did they get upset?”
“They were trying to keep the falcons away from my hair. They kept diving and diving at me. I lost my flowers. The dogs tried to bite the falcons and then they went away. But one bit my arm.”
“A falcon?”
“No, a scrap dog. But it was a mistake. It was trying to get a falcon. That’s when I dropped my flowers in the pond.”
Akana was completely bemused. As far as she knew, falcons didn’t attack people and dogs didn’t worship little girls. But, then again, much in the world had changed. The animals no longer communicated like before the waters of chaos… and there was no longer any energy bubbles to keep the harsher elements of Geb at bay.
Akana pondered the story for a long time, and often asked Irisi if she’d had more contact with dogs or falcons… but the answer was always no.
That is, until Irisi turned thirteen.
But now, at six summers, Irisi was everywhere. Taking care of chickens, weaving, sweeping the hard-packed clay of the floor, and occasionally participating in quick and vicious wrestling matches with her older brothers.
It was uncanny how many she won.
Akana could see the strangeness in her eyes, however, and wondered if Djal would notice. If he did, he said nothing. He was a hard-working man, a good man, and, in a time where all infrastructure had been destroyed, a life saver.
As far as they knew, there were only two other families left in the land - those saved by the hands of Ra. They had banded tightly together, forming exploratory parties and sharing their limited resources – but as of yet, they seemed very much alone. Ra rose and Ra set, every day without fail; yet the world of the glorious past was gone forever.
Akana sat weaving and humming to herself, loose threads in her mouth. She missed the fine, dyed stuff she used to own and wished they’d have been able to pack more in the salvation machine.
The smell of bread filled their mud house. Food, shelter, clothing… all the important needs were met.
Suddenly, Irisi crashed through the door.
Akana grinned. “How’s my little woman?”
“Fine.”
“Fine? Are your brothers still with Papa?”
Irisi nodded.
“But you didn’t want to help?”
Irisi shrugged. Akana noticed her hair was getting long. Deep brown curls rolled down her bare sun-browned back. “Are they almost done?”
Irisi shrugged again. She was often like this… so quiet as to be a bit irritating. “Why don’t you talk to your mama, daughter?”
“I don’t have anything to say, mama.”
Akana realized with irritation that she’d cross-threaded a portion of her weaving. She started tugging it right and then noticed something strange.
“Irisi?”
The girl looked up at her from where she sat on the bare floor.
“What’s that mark on your arm?”
Irisi feigned ignorance. “What mark?”
“That one, darling. It looks like… a bite?”
The girl cocked her arm at an angle and studied the small red and purple imprint. She looked at her mom and shrugged yet again.
“Irisi… what happened? Tell me or you’ll not get dinner!”
The girl sighed, crossing her legs under her and putting her head in her hands.
Akana sat silently, waiting for the explanation. Finally, the girl talked, looking out the door as if in another world.
“It was a dog, mama.”
“A dog?”
“One of the yellow ones that Papa chases away from the pens. Scrap dog.”
Akana looked at her with concern. “It just bit you?”
Irisi shook her head. “No, not at first. At first they came close.”
“They?”
“A… flock of them.”
“Pack of them,” Akana corrected, then kicked herself for interrupting. If there really were dangerous dogs about, Djal needed to know. And they needed to keep a much closer eye on the children. Usually the “scrap dogs,” as the children called them, were the furthest thing from aggressive. And wait…
“So – more than one? A group of dogs?”
Irisi continued her tale. “Yes, mama. A flo… a… pack of them came to me when I was picking flowers. By the little pond outside the wheat field.”
Akana had quit her weaving and focused her attention completely on her daughter.
“What happened?”
Irisi looked at her intently. “I think... they came to worship me.”
“Worship???”
“That’s what it looked like. They came in a bunch and made a circle, then came up and were sort of kneeling on their front legs, like we do at the altars. One even put a little animal bone at my feet. It was like a little dog party or something. I was their goddess. It was fun! But then when the mean falcons came, the dogs got upset.”
“What? Falcons? And how did they get upset?”
“They were trying to keep the falcons away from my hair. They kept diving and diving at me. I lost my flowers. The dogs tried to bite the falcons and then they went away. But one bit my arm.”
“A falcon?”
“No, a scrap dog. But it was a mistake. It was trying to get a falcon. That’s when I dropped my flowers in the pond.”
Akana was completely bemused. As far as she knew, falcons didn’t attack people and dogs didn’t worship little girls. But, then again, much in the world had changed. The animals no longer communicated like before the waters of chaos… and there was no longer any energy bubbles to keep the harsher elements of Geb at bay.
Akana pondered the story for a long time, and often asked Irisi if she’d had more contact with dogs or falcons… but the answer was always no.
That is, until Irisi turned thirteen.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Bloodline: Godseed (Pt. I)
“In those days the gods still walked the earth,” Nomti said, taking a bite out his loaf and washing it back with a slug of beer. His tanned and grizzled features contrasted strangely with the brilliant white of his garment.
“They hadn’t been contained yet. As a matter of record, it took a millennia and a great cataclysm to contain them when the battles were fought before. Some of the gods had committed the unspeakable. And bore offspring.”
Nanu nodded her head as her grandfather spoke. “The great ones!”
“Yes. Great warriors. Evil ones, however. Not… pure. Not of the gods, and not of man… too dangerous. So Atum and Nun raised the waters of chaos, conspiring against the very gods themselves, to destroy the seed of the gods before all was ruined. Yet a few men were gathered up and saved to begin anew.”
Nanu frowned. “Those who built the great tombs?”
“No, those are remnants from before the time of the cleansing. Only recently did they become the tombs of great kings. Those that survived the waters were hidden in the hand of Ra until chaos receded. Yet even in their midst, some of the god blood had been preserved…”
* * *
The sun beat down on Akana as she picked out stems, leaves and rotten fruit from the grape harvest. She didn’t mind – she felt fine and sang as she sorted through baskets of warm grapes, singing, and enjoying the goodness of life.
And some of that life stirred within her. Her breasts lay bare and tan over the fullness of her belly as she poured out the now suitable fruit into the new winepress her husband had completed shortly after the waters receded. It would be soon.... soon.
A movement inside brought her hand to her middle. A knee? A bottom? She smiled and gently pushed back at the child. In return, it moved back harder, sharply kicking at the new pressure. She pressed again – and the baby responded with a kick that felt as if it could break a rib. “Gods have mercy! What a little warrior you are,” she said to her stomach. “What a tough little man I shall bring into the world! That will teach me to push you around, sweet one.”
As she tread the essence from the grapes her thoughts went to the time before. The battles, the citadels, the incredible powers of the gods… all done and gone. She would never see the crystal towers again… nor the shimmering balloons high above the peaks… or the great interlocking blocks of stone carved to knife-edged precision and put into place with concentrated waves of sound. Vanished. Far off as they drifted in the seas over what had been cities and patch-work farmed plains, she had seen the triangular peak of a building or two, but she doubted that much could remain. The tempest had been incredible in its fury.
The baby kicked again, hard enough to knock her breath away. “Child, be at peace!” she groaned. This one could not come soon enough. He would be of use to his older brothers in a few years, gathering grain they had grown painfully with primitive plows and harvested with pitiful hand tools. Nothing like the way it was before. Before… back when the gods had walked the earth…
The gods. A cloud drifted across the sun just as her thoughts went back to that night… just one night of great failing… the night her child had been conceived. She couldn’t know it for sure… but the feeling wouldn’t leave her.
Her husband wouldn’t understand it… but that awful visitor had possessed a strange power she’d never felt before. Djal had left with the boys, visiting his brother inside the great city. She was home alone, running a newly combed batch of flax through the linen spooler when the knock came.
He was the biggest man she’d ever seen. She wasn’t about to let him in, but he pressed his huge and hairy hand in the gap of the door and pushed her aside like a papyrus doll.
“Beer,” he demanded, “and meat.”
Because hospitality required it, she served him both. She considered running away to the neighbors but something kept her riveted to the floor. His eyes burned with an intoxicating madness; his features had something of the divine and something of the animal within them. He finished his meal, then eyed her. Something in his look enslaved her. She knew it was wrong… she knew it was mad… but she found herself serving him drink after drink, and partaking of it herself, and at some point, delivering her body into his arms. There wasn’t much to remember… except the strange canine smell of his breath… and the hairiness of his back… and dreams… endless dreams that night of hunts and the smell of blood… lying among jackals in a cave…
When she had awakened the next day, he was gone. And only a week later, her family were among the few that had been gathered away from the waters of chaos.
Even then, the little one had been in her womb… riding on the waves… up above the peaks.
There for the landing, and the re-dedications, and the libations to the gods. There, growing inside...
Another kick came - and with it a clenching pain.
Djal was in the field and heard her cry. Racing back, he carried her inside. This birth would be without the help of the physicians, he thought grimly. No liniments to ward off the tiny destroyers… no measuring the beating of the hearts. Just nature running its course.
He prayed that course would not kill his wife or child. Though if he’d known what was to come, he might have prayed for both.
“They hadn’t been contained yet. As a matter of record, it took a millennia and a great cataclysm to contain them when the battles were fought before. Some of the gods had committed the unspeakable. And bore offspring.”
Nanu nodded her head as her grandfather spoke. “The great ones!”
“Yes. Great warriors. Evil ones, however. Not… pure. Not of the gods, and not of man… too dangerous. So Atum and Nun raised the waters of chaos, conspiring against the very gods themselves, to destroy the seed of the gods before all was ruined. Yet a few men were gathered up and saved to begin anew.”
Nanu frowned. “Those who built the great tombs?”
“No, those are remnants from before the time of the cleansing. Only recently did they become the tombs of great kings. Those that survived the waters were hidden in the hand of Ra until chaos receded. Yet even in their midst, some of the god blood had been preserved…”
* * *
The sun beat down on Akana as she picked out stems, leaves and rotten fruit from the grape harvest. She didn’t mind – she felt fine and sang as she sorted through baskets of warm grapes, singing, and enjoying the goodness of life.
And some of that life stirred within her. Her breasts lay bare and tan over the fullness of her belly as she poured out the now suitable fruit into the new winepress her husband had completed shortly after the waters receded. It would be soon.... soon.
A movement inside brought her hand to her middle. A knee? A bottom? She smiled and gently pushed back at the child. In return, it moved back harder, sharply kicking at the new pressure. She pressed again – and the baby responded with a kick that felt as if it could break a rib. “Gods have mercy! What a little warrior you are,” she said to her stomach. “What a tough little man I shall bring into the world! That will teach me to push you around, sweet one.”
As she tread the essence from the grapes her thoughts went to the time before. The battles, the citadels, the incredible powers of the gods… all done and gone. She would never see the crystal towers again… nor the shimmering balloons high above the peaks… or the great interlocking blocks of stone carved to knife-edged precision and put into place with concentrated waves of sound. Vanished. Far off as they drifted in the seas over what had been cities and patch-work farmed plains, she had seen the triangular peak of a building or two, but she doubted that much could remain. The tempest had been incredible in its fury.
The baby kicked again, hard enough to knock her breath away. “Child, be at peace!” she groaned. This one could not come soon enough. He would be of use to his older brothers in a few years, gathering grain they had grown painfully with primitive plows and harvested with pitiful hand tools. Nothing like the way it was before. Before… back when the gods had walked the earth…
The gods. A cloud drifted across the sun just as her thoughts went back to that night… just one night of great failing… the night her child had been conceived. She couldn’t know it for sure… but the feeling wouldn’t leave her.
Her husband wouldn’t understand it… but that awful visitor had possessed a strange power she’d never felt before. Djal had left with the boys, visiting his brother inside the great city. She was home alone, running a newly combed batch of flax through the linen spooler when the knock came.
He was the biggest man she’d ever seen. She wasn’t about to let him in, but he pressed his huge and hairy hand in the gap of the door and pushed her aside like a papyrus doll.
“Beer,” he demanded, “and meat.”
Because hospitality required it, she served him both. She considered running away to the neighbors but something kept her riveted to the floor. His eyes burned with an intoxicating madness; his features had something of the divine and something of the animal within them. He finished his meal, then eyed her. Something in his look enslaved her. She knew it was wrong… she knew it was mad… but she found herself serving him drink after drink, and partaking of it herself, and at some point, delivering her body into his arms. There wasn’t much to remember… except the strange canine smell of his breath… and the hairiness of his back… and dreams… endless dreams that night of hunts and the smell of blood… lying among jackals in a cave…
When she had awakened the next day, he was gone. And only a week later, her family were among the few that had been gathered away from the waters of chaos.
Even then, the little one had been in her womb… riding on the waves… up above the peaks.
There for the landing, and the re-dedications, and the libations to the gods. There, growing inside...
Another kick came - and with it a clenching pain.
Djal was in the field and heard her cry. Racing back, he carried her inside. This birth would be without the help of the physicians, he thought grimly. No liniments to ward off the tiny destroyers… no measuring the beating of the hearts. Just nature running its course.
He prayed that course would not kill his wife or child. Though if he’d known what was to come, he might have prayed for both.
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