2310 BCE

Utua trudged up the winding dirt path.

A heavy dryness settled deep within his mouth, and the blazing heat did not help. He’d never liked the countryside much, anyway. Born in the Mediterranean, he missed the tropical rains and the white beaches he often saw as a child. Kish was prone hot weather, but due to the lack of rain, the crops had begun to shrivel up and dry. There was only so much water that the irrigation system could provide, before the ground became muddy and soft. Surely, his master would eventually need to find a way to purchase more grain from another city, perhaps one of his neighbors.

Matthias leaned back against a chair outside of the villa, his eyes halfway closed. Apparently, there was no difference in temperature inside or the outdoors. Next to him was a young woman, fanning a large palm leaf over his head. A clay goblet filled halfway with red wine was perched upon his pale hand, each curved finger covered with a jeweled ring that shone in the blinding light. His nails were manicured, clean to the tip.

Once he passed the garden, Utua paused. The female slave was fanning frantically, her sunken face coated in sweat, arms moving back and forth. She did not dare look at him, and only kept her gaze upon her hands. Matthias slowly opened his eyes and grunted when he noticed Utua’s shadow. His blonde hair looked even paler in the blazing light. He shifted in his seat and took a long, deep sip of the wine. When he crossed his legs, several spots were visible upon his skin.

Utua bowed. “Good morning, my lord. I thank you for agreeing to see me in such circumstances. I thank the gods for your safe return.”

Matthias wiped his mouth and scratched at a large bump on his thigh. “State your business.”

”My lord,” Utua hesitated, “I have failed you and caused great dissatisfaction. My recent assignment has been conducted quite carelessly on my end. You may remember when I did not bring to you what you asked for.” Despite the agonizing heat, shivers ran down his spine. “My punishment had given me the time to properly reflect on my decisions. You remember the boy?”

Using his arms, Matthias struggled to sit up. Utua couldn’t help but notice how he was getting quite heavier in the middle—too much feasting and merrymaking tends to do that to one’s girth. He smirked, revealing a mouth of yellow, crooked teeth. “You mean that filth?”

Heat rushed to Utua’s face. “Yes, well—”

”Will you hurry it up?” Matthias barked at the young woman. Utua had forgotten she was standing there, due to being so still on the shadows. “I have mosquitos feasting upon me, and you move slower than a snail.”

Frantically, the slave’s arms moved faster. Her breaths were shallow, and strands of her hair fell upon her face. Matthias rolled his eyes and refocused his gaze upon Utua. “You were saying?” he snapped. “Get to the point.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to me to sell the boy at Sippar, my lord.” Getting down on one knee in the dust, Utua lowered his head. “I understand how the last trade was a sole disappointment. But Hirom could bring a fine penny to the market, and, like you’ve expressed to me before, he is worthless. A weakling, only to take up food and spread disease. Why not let me take him off your hands?” He finally glanced up. “You know me to be more loyal to you than any other man or woman here. To get to Ur took three days. Sippar is only one day’s trip. I would not—”

Matthias held up a pale hand. “I’ve heard enough. Rise to your feet, Utua.”

A sharp pain settled in Utua’s knees as he stood. He blinked multiple times to avoid the sweat from trickling down his face and ears.

“If you believe that I fear that you plan to betray me by running away, that is not the case. Rather, how do I know that you are able to carry this promise to me as promised?” Matthias frowned, knitting his eyebrows. “I am a busy man. I do not have the time to keep watch over such a large plantation like this. My father’s business is my own business, and I intend to carry out the legacy that he has passed onto me. A sick slave leads to pestilence. If you do not do as you have promised me, then you shall feel my wrath.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Matthias leaned forward, causing the back of the chair to squeak. “Do you swear upon your life that you shall return with every shekel that you have wrongly taken from me?”

”Yes, my lord. I swear it.”

”Then you have declared it.” Matthias set his goblet down with a thump. “In two day’s time, return to me. I shall have a pass written for you. Prepare your wagon and the donkey.” He glanced up at the female slave. “Wine.”

The young woman, with trembling hands, set down the palm leaf. Her arms shook a great deal as she reached for a large, clay pitcher. Her fingers loosened around the handle, causing it to shatter across the marble floor, leaving a dark red stain. As she sank to the ground, Matthias rose to his feet and snapped at the two guards standing by the doorway.

”Give her two hundred lashes.”

The female slave’s eyes widened. “No, no, my lord! Please! Please, no!” A high pitched shriek echoed through the courtyard as the men roughly grabbed her by the arms. “Forgive me! Forgive me my lord, please!”

Matthias barely glanced at her direction as he stepped over the mess and approached Utua. “I could do with some new help in the home—there are plenty of auctions in Sippar.” He wrinkled his nose. “Ur is too close by the water, where disease is usually rampant. Sorana would agree as well. I may send Bou with you as an escort. He shall report to me so that—em—the mistakes from the last trip shall not be repeated.”

A scream shattered the air.

”Yes, my lord,” Utua quietly replied.

”Now,” Matthias said, retreating to his seat with a heavy sigh, “you are dismissed. But do me a favor, won’t you? Run to the kitchen and fetch someone to bring me fresh wine to clean this up.” He scowled at the red puddle expanding on the floor. “It is such a waste.”

After giving him another bow, Utua began his descent down the dirt path, his sandals crunching against the gravel. Just as he was making his way past the villa, he peered up at the second floor, at the top right window. The elaborately designed curtain was slightly parted to the side, but once Utua’s gaze fell upon it, it was released, only being picked up by the hot wind that blew across the fields.

Utua gazed at the colorful curtain for a while, blinking twice, before rubbing at his hot, sweaty face with both hands. He continued down the hill, trying to drown out the slave woman’s cries that followed him every step.

* * * * * * *

Leonara stood up and stretched her back.

It seemed as if this heat was growing worst. Her thirst was unbearable, and it hurt to swallow or speak. She yanked a stubborn weed out of the earth with both hands, ignoring the pain shooting down her shoulder blades. The ground was as hard as a rock, with cracks spreading across the surface. She’d kept her head low, especially once the other overseers came into sight, patrolling the enormous garden with their horses and whips. If only there was a puddle, just a tiny one—which she could scoop up from the ground with her fingers and place in her—

The sound of a whip whizzing made her jump, resulting in the groan of an elderly man. He hardly flinched, although Leonara could see the pain etched in his dark eyes. He continued harvesting faster with his tool, the dark red earth flailing around the edges.

A strange smell met Leonara’s nose once the wind caught in her matted hair. She licked her scabbed lips, almost trying to taste it. The scent was faint, at first, but grew thicker until she could no longer ignore it. Setting down her straw basket, she pretended to stretch her back, but over the horizon, she could make out something black rising in the air, a deep contrast against the bright blue sky.

“You!” the overseer snarled. “Back to work!” His horse snorted, pawing at the ground, and she could see his hand reaching for his whip.

“There’s a fire,” Leonara tried to say, but her throat was closed. Something caught across her face, causing dark blood to gush out all over the plants. The man’s shadow fell over her as he raised his whip and struck her again. Dirt was in her mouth and nose, but she managed to get out the words as she pointed her arm towards the horizon. “Fire.”

A red shade fell upon the overseer’s face once he followed her finger. Immediately, he began to ride past the field, his horse’s hooves pounding upon the ground, where the others had stopped planting and sowing seeds, now following the same direction as their gaze. Leonara took a couple of steps forward, her heart thudding in her chest. A great deal of blood was now pouring from the gash from her forehead, but she couldn’t feel a thing. From her recollection, the fire was coming west, down across the kitchen. Past where the rice and corn fields were—

The stables.

Her tool slipped from her hand as she took off running through the grass as fast as she could. She did not care who was watching as she sprinted past the quarters, where many slaves were being herded by the overseers and ordered to fetch buckets of water by the river. Stumbling through the chaos, she nearly collided with a man, who cursed before roughly shoving her to the ground. She forgot her thirst, her bleeding head, her sore limbs. Scrambling to her feet, she ran and checked her empty shack, then searched Utua’s hovel.

His door was partially open, and despite rushing around, the room was empty. Desolate and black. The two straw beds were nearly made, bowls wiped and put away, the floor swept and small table cleared. His walking stick rested against the wall.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

No.

No.

Upon stumbling outside, the heat was growing stronger upon Leonara’s face. Coughing and struggling to see through the smoke, she could make out what remained of the burning structure, gasping heavily. The sound of horses neighing and sheep bleating made her head spin. She headed closer to the hungry flames, her bloodshot eyes scanned the opening. Her hands tugged at the bolted door, yanking at it with all her might. The roof caved in, causing burning wood to fall on both sides. She thought someone was trying to pull her way as other began to pour water on both sides, but she fought them off. The boy. Where was the—

“Leonara!”

It was a heavenly sound.

She fiercely spun around, her face darkened with soot and cinders. Hirom stood a few feet away, attempting to lug a bucket of water halfway. He dropped it all over the ground and ran to her as Leonara rushed to scoop him up. Her eyes were wet, and she tightened her grip around him; shielding him away from the hungry flames with her body.

He repeated her name, but she couldn’t speak just yet. When she saw how muddy his bare feet were, she knew he’d been working in the rice fields. She whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the gods.

Hirom watched her for a moment, confusion and terror stricken across his face. After carrying him a safe distance away from the flames, she made him sit down on a step in front of Utua’s hovel, gently dabbing at his face with the edge of her torn skirts. He gazed at her with his large brown eyes, gazing at the flames. Her heart broke for him. This was too much for him to see at his age.

Too much.

“What happened?” Hirom asked.

“You stay here,” Leonara ordered, “and do not move from this spot until I come back.”

The boy shook his head and tried to stand, but she grabbed him by his shoulders and made him sit down again. His face crumpled.

“No, Hirom! You must stay. It is not safe. Do you understand me? You do not leave, no matter what anyone says to you. You stay.”

The child grabbed at her skirts. “Don’t leave me.” Water beaded in his eyes as he shook his head. “Don’t leave me, please.”

Leonara cupped the left side of his small face with her hands. “I will return, I promise. But you must be brave for me and wait here. I will come back here as fast as I can. It will be only for a little while. I will be back, my child.”

”Do you promise?” he quietly asked.

“I promise,” Leonara whispered. “I swear.”

With those words, he slowly released her. She did not have the strength to look in his face as she darted away, her feet pounding against the ground. The orange glow around her blended with the shadows of the people around her once she approached the stable, pouring water upon burning walls. But the flames continued to eat them up, and she kept prying at the door, trying to break apart the knotted rope that was tied around it in some elaborate, complicated fashion. In desperation, she tried to break them off with her teeth, but the strands were barely frayed, despite being partially scorched and blackened.

“Have you lost your senses?” someone shouted, and she struggled to see them through the black smoke. Enlil roughly grabbed her by the arm, yanking her back.

”Do you have a knife?” Leonara shouted, trying to make her voice audible over the roaring flames. Her throat burned. If she could just loosen one of the knots so she could open the door. But they were so tightly done, so very small. Almost like the person who secured them had tiny, delicate hands. Then another deep thought crossed her mind.

Why is there rope around the door?

”What?” the large man asked. A burning plank of wood fell upon them, narrowly missing Enlil’s head. He cursed under his breath. “Leave! You wish to catch ablaze?”

”I asked if you had a knife.” Her bloodshot eyes widened. “The kitchen. Go and fetch one for me. I need to cut this.”

He shook his head. “You need to move away.”

”I can’t.” Despite her pleas, Enlil dragged her away. Leonara attempted to pull away from him, but he held her back, and all she could do was watch. She watched as the fire grew smaller and smaller it was only a few flames left flickering on white ashes. When the sun had set, two more slaves dumped the last remaining buckets on the structure.

Under the trees, Angus was munching on a patch of grass, her tail flickering back and forth.

Matthias stood over the hill, talking with a few of his guards. They were standing over a figure in the rubble—the base where the stables once stood. A charred figure mere inches from the door, their scorched bones poking up from the ground like demented weeds. Weeds that must be pulled out from the ground and removed, lest they choke up the other plants. Leonara tried to walk over, but Enlil’s face grew pale as he made her face him, blocking her path.

”You stop this foolishness,” he said. “You get away from here—this is no place for you.”

In a daze, Leonara yanked herself free. She stumbled a few feet behind a tree, where she emptied what little remained in her stomach, the sour bile lingering in her throat. Wiping her mouth with her skirts, she prepared to leave when she passed the shadow in the darkness, crouching behind in the bushes.

She did not see it, but it quietly watched her. It sat very still, gazing at the commotion of people in front of them. The dark shape focused on what was once the stable, then at Utua’s hovel—the door still open. It then rose to its feet, before silently moving across the empty cornfields, barely making a sound.

* * * * * * * *

Hirom removed his thumb from his mouth and immediately stood up once he saw Leonara slowly walking up the path, coughing heavily. Her face and arms and legs were covered in ash, eyes bloodshot, hair tangled about her waist. Her bare feet dragged upon the ground, and her bottom jaw was trembling. She knelt down on her knees and extended her arms out towards him, to his great relief.

Hirom ran towards the frail woman, and he buried his face in her shoulder. She scooped him up tightly, rocking him silently back and forth, although her breaths were shaky and weak. When he raised his head to look back at her, he was surprised to see tears trickling down her cheeks, gathering at the bottom of her nose. With his index finger, he wiped a couple from her face. But more came.

His eyes scanned her face. “Are you hurt?”

Leonara clenched her jaw, before a wave of fresh tears came over her. She slowly sank to her knees in the dirt, cradling him in her arms. Hirom held onto her as tightly as he could as her body shook, her heavy sobs filling the air.

* * * * * * * * * *

The stench of smoke filled the air of the plantation for weeks. Matthias brought every slave forward, demanding that someone explain the origin of the fire. After a few beatings, his frustration grew. Besides the loss of the stables, none of the animals had been harmed—they had all been led outside shortly before the flames had taken place.

Enlil received a severe beating—he was left for days tied to a pole, lashing after lashing as Matthias accused him of using the fire as a distraction to escape. He was dead by sunrise, his eyes staring lifelessly at the very blue sky, the sky that left no rain. Flies collected around his open mouth and maggots gathered around his flesh. The stench was so bad that the overseers vomited whenever they passed by, but Matthias demanded that he remain there—as an example when slaves destroyed property.

Leonara passed it each day whenever she headed to the fields. Hirom remained close by her side, and although she would have much rather to shield his eyes from it, she did not; for it was a reality she knew he would have to eventually comes to terms with. One night, Hirom awoke to find her sitting by the window spinning wool, her face and body smeared with soot. She wiped her eyes to hide her tears upon realizing he was looking at her.

“Oh, I did not mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, my child.”

“Why do you do that?” he softly asked. He jumped off the bed and headed towards Leonara, who crawled on her lap.

She faintly smiled at him.

”Why are you sad?” Hirom replied, looking up at her. “I don’t like seeing you sad.” He snuggled against her. “Tell me where it hurts.”

A lump rose in Leonara’s throat. She gazed out of the window. “You see those stars?”

Hirom nodded. “There are so many.”

“Well,” the woman whispered, “that’s where people go once they leave us. When they don’t wake up anymore. They are in heaven with the gods. They come out at night.”

”Why?”

Leonara kissed his hand. “To watch over us. To protect us. That is where Utua is.” She loudly sniffed. “So he is not really gone. He has just taken another form. And soon, one day you and I will go there and join them.” She then gave his hand a warm squeeze. “I am grateful that you are here with me.”

”My mama and sister and brother are there too,” Hirom said in a small voice. He leaned his head against her chest. “Aren’t they?”

”Yes, my sweet child.” She cleared a few strands of hair away from his face. “Whenever you are sad or lonely, you just remember that they are always with you, no matter how much you miss them.” She dabbed her eyes. “Alright, enough of this. Come now. Let us get you to bed. You need your rest for tomorrow.”

“Is Utua coming back?” Hirom paused. “I miss him. He promised to teach me how to swim.”

The question stopped Leonara in her tracks. After recollecting herself, she roughly bit her tongue. She wiped her nose as she carried the boy back to the straw mattress, before gently singing him a lullaby. Once he drifted off, she leaned her head against the wall, wanting to bash her head up against it.

* * * * * * * * *

Lightning crashed and thunder boomed, causing heavy rain to fall outside. Puddles gathered in the mud outside, reflecting the pitch black sky.

The crackling flame of the fireplace cast an orange glow on Matthias’ face.

All the wine he consumed throughout the day pressed against his throbbing head. Just get another one, Sorana had told him, but how could he ever replace Utua? That was his best slave, his hardest working one. His loyal one. He remembered when Utua had arrived here as a young man—so clueless at times, but so diligent—

It made his eyes sting. It infuriated him, to get so wound up over a slave. He was simply property, and the whole ideal may have been an accident, like his wife had told him. He fumbled carelessly with his hands, before jumping at the sound of quiet footsteps behind him. Another bout of thunder echoed through the sky, nearly rattling the place.

His hand instinctively reached for the hilt of his dagger underneath his cloak, but stopped once he saw a small figure standing in the threshold of the room. They were wrapped in a heavy blanket, barefooted, shivering from head to toe. He set down his cup with a thump and turned around with a heavy sigh.

“What is it, Telal?” Matthias snapped.

The child remained still. Lightning flashed outside, casting a white glow on his pale face.

”I said, what is it?”

Upon his sharp tone, Telal flinched. He swallowed heavily, his large ears sticking out from both sides of his head. Matthias couldn’t stand the physical resemblance they shared. He couldn’t bear the shame of it. Out of all of his sons, he knew that this one would grow up to be a failure. How could a future warrior be so timid, so weak in the face of a mere storm? It was despicable. Where was his mother, anyway? Ought she not be tending to him? He best call the guards to come and fetch her. The woman had a habit of becoming distracted easily. He would have a discussion about it with her later.

”Papa,” Telal whispered, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. “I’m frightened. I can’t sleep. Can I stay here with you?”

“No.” Matthias released an exasperated sigh. His head hurt. He did not have the patience for this. “Go to your room, and do not come out until morning. If I see you leave before then, you will be punished. Now go.”

Telal’s face crumbled. “But Papa—”

“Do as I say,” Matthias thundered.

Tears welled up in the young boy’s eyes, but he lowered his head and obeyed. As he turned and slowly walked down the hallway, Matthias noticed that his son’s bare feet left muddy footprints across the marble floor.