THIRTY - SUBMISSION OF SAND

Semiramis stood amongst the dark rocks of the plateau. Around her were her followers, some bound in body and mind in servitude, others simply branded and fearful, trying their best not to agitate their new mistress. She paid them with bread and water, and in return, she demanded to be pleased and venerated. To the west the land descended rapidly, rocky pathways descending in orange-red sands. Another sea of dry sand and sun, a land of death for all but the most wary and skillful.

Her black eyes watched to what the desert spitted out for her. Something was coming towards her. A host of man. White robes, faces covered. They crossed over the dunes, they emerged from deep valleys of sand. Their numbers grew, they were armed. The last tribes of the desert.

She called upon advice and at her sides came Karkid and Dan Sarpa. They watched alongside her, and in their wake came the armed serviles, silently fitting weapons and stringing their bows.

'Raise my banner.' Semiramis stated. '-So they can see amongst the rocks to where they must climb.'

'Are they... compliant?' The merchant asked.

'I dont know.' Semiramis replied. 'But I will prepare the furnaces and the brands nonetheless. Im sending you to them ofcourse, Dan Sarpa. You are my master negotiator.'

The merchant nodded, casting a quick longing glance up at her face before returning his gaze to the approaching dunefolk down below. A thousand? Perhaps more, women and children and animals and half-animals combined.

'What then are your demands, and what do you offer, my Grand mistress?'

'I demand complete servitude and I offer them their minds to keep and the path to Paradise.'

Dan Sarpa swallowed. 'Very well. I will prepare my camel and meet them at the base of hills.'

Semiramis smiled assuringly. 'If they are so unwise to harm you, your death will be avenged with the gravest of cruelty.'

'Thank you, mistress.'

'And you Karkid....' Semiramis placed her hand on her servant's shoulder., fingers playing with Karkid's long helixical curls. '-Take the serviles, hide in the rocksides, prepare to massacre the desertfolk. You see smoke rise you commence the bloodshed.'

'You think them enemies?'

'I dont know Karkid, but we cannot afford unwanted surprises, can we? I will collect the serviles, and with one sentence the ability to command is given to you. Eternally they will toil for you, fight, murder, collect, serve. All my might will become available to you, Karkid, because you are a loyal servant.' She squeezed karkid's shoulder. 'And if you decide to flee the serviles have been commanded to murder you.' She whispered in Karkid's ear. 'Now go.'

***

Dan Sarpa descended the black rocksides with Medif's reigns in his hands. Steep paths, more fit for jumping mountain goat than man and camel, but he found a way down. Above him he saw Semiramis' banners, red doves on white fabric. A hint of auburn hair.

His mouth was dry as he continued, exchanging rock for sand. He mounted Medif and cantered forward over the dunes. he saw the tribesmen. They saw him. He closed in and he noticed small groups at his flanks. Bows and spears, warriors half-burried in the sand, faces covered and staring at him from all directions.

'Hail Semiramis.' Dan Sarpa proclaimed with all the conviction he could muster. 'Tall mistress of the endless desert - Red Dove of Divine blood.'

The tribesmen continued, closing in until he could smell their unwashed bodies. They silently surrounded him. Dan Sarpa glanced back to the safety of the rocksides but there was no movement, no aid.

'Have you come to surrender? Semiramis offers you the safety of your minds, the safety of your families. In exchange you will take the brand and serve.'

The tribesmen said nothing. Their numbers increased, flocking around him in their light robes. in their wake came women and children and herds of animal.

'Where is Deccard, chieftain of the canyon?!' Dan Sarpa demanded the mute tribesfolk.

'Here he is...' A voice came from the masses. A face-covering lowered to reveal a hook-nosed man, a tanned thin-slender face criss-crossed with scars. 'My brother I have welcomed to my tent, I offered him warm food and good drink. He said only the same lines, cursed words imprinted by the tall woman. He is here, with me, he has not left me since.'

Dan Sarpa nodded, calming. 'Deccard step forward in the name of Semiramis.'

The grizzled, white-haired chieftain pushed past the tribesman. His empty eyes looked at the merchant.

'Then have you come to surrender, have you listened well to his words?'

'We have.' The hook-nosed man conceded. 'My tribe comes to obey, hoping for peaceful transition into the tall one's holdings. And the tribe of the purple oasis, and the tribe of the herding bard. The desert is now an empty place. Tell me, man-on-the-camel, will we be offered water like the customs of the sands demand, or will be marching into a night without end?'

'You will get water, and then you take the brand.' Dan Sarpa replied, raising his robe and showing the white lines of Semiramis' name on his chest. [https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/aKz733iGSPoRaZt6MPQw92a4hzZ6CHsn9L9C7u_9lcyqTItamEQYsJjZQHWNs7zKffiQFCnx1JYU6gYnVTmN8YBrojzwQXs8AFL-n9VZm8L8n33LejJJm5mlb5UMO0R255ag-sr5][https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/N3jy482-hpnkGx5BaErwQfMVsNCneL9O7CmQWt6o4ti5nBWpmRzT1TivuRWX2vPbOc3TkQ9kXwpcEkkCaf7SSSyS_e2z7-1x0hVp3zI] He pulled on Medif's reigns and turned back to the rocksides.

****

Semiramis the Grand. Semiramis the beautiful. Semiramis the Terrifying.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Three men were on their knees before her, each wearing distinctive clothes and jewelry. Red, blue and white. Chiefs of three tribes, under silent supervision of ashen faced Deccard they delivered themselves unto Semiramis.

The tall Divine silently heard their praise and apologies, and was unimpressed as she watched them squirm at her feet. She listened to the faint changes in their tones, slight changes in vibration, as the chieftains sought to find the best way to please her. Semiramis’ ears twitched as she identified the level of fear within the men. And it was very present; palpable. The air around them flowed in angst. Nervous sweaty men, eyes cast at her toes. And -, she smiled, turning her head slightly - there it was: their voices also carrying devotion, awed by her presence.

Deccard stood nearby with dead eyes, not giving any hint of recognition when one of the other chieftains occasionally glanced at him. They had undoubtedly met many times, these desert-fok; lords of the sand no longer. The rigid appearance of Deccard at their various houses had caused the other chieftains to cower and follow swiftly the hollow words that Deccard spoke. That now living-statue, once proud and stubborn aged veteran of the sands whom had commanded the near-untakeable chasm of the dunes, he had given up, and so must they.

Behind the three cowering men, groups of nomads climbed onto the plateau. Their number greater than the host Semiramis previously possessed, both in men and animals. They occupied the valley between the rocky mounts, and some even had pitched their tents atop higher edges and cliffs of the surrounding hills.

Come to serve, Semiramis noted contently, hearing the fearful prayer of the leaders that had dared to resist her demands all these moons. Now they had chosen to bow. Undoubtedly there were a few clans hidden amongst the scorchlands, but news spread surprisingly fast in the desert. Quickly now she expected more to come and pledge. Something resembling an army was forming, the tedious work of sifting the sands coming to a close. Soon she would be able to march upon Uruk itself. Home.

She placed a bare feet on one of the chieftain’s backs, hearing him gasp in that essential mixture of terrified pleasure. Cattle to brand.

She sent away the chieftains and Sapphire came to her presence shortly after. The small-framed Dan Sarpa walked to her with a shining smile of a full set of white teeth; a rarity in this region.

He wore new clothes: Deep Red and black, patterned with an array of white lotus flowers with a hint of scarlet in their hearts. The previous owner of the robe had been an Urukian caravaneer, as evident by the quality and colouring of the patterns. Sapphire’s new robe draped over an soft-coloured orange pants whose narrow pipes led to a pair of upward curling pointy shoes.

Semiramis granted Sapphire her attention. ‘I see you have taken a liking to my present.’

Sapphire gripped his cloth, let fingers slide over the fabric, and bowed his head. ‘Good quality, mistress. Very fine indeed. And what a blessed day it is that I can present myself in good clothing, instead of the dust-covered halfskin I arrived in. It makes me think not of these sands, instead of another place-’ He hummed contently. ‘-Of Uruk, my mistress.’

His words made her simultaneously feel joy and anger, resulting in a mixture of emotions that kept her expression hard and demanding. ‘I have a task for you.’

‘Anything.’ He sunk down before her, taking off his turban and showing his gingerly hair. She placed her hand on his cold scalp.

‘Intelligent man, I need an intelligent man. A hunt must be commenced. The monks, they have had their time to get away. My word is law, I have given them exceptional mercy. I allowed them to leave the canyon, and so they did. Now find them. I did not give them an allowance to live indefinitely. End them.’

Sapphire thought back at the wizened old men he had encountered at the bottom of the canyon. Semiramis tall, slender figure leaned forward. ‘Is this a problem for you, Dan Sarpa?’ She repeated his name, tasted it with her tongue: ‘Dan Sarpa - Dan Sarpa, what a fine name you carry.’

Sapphire’s eyes started to roll back in ecstasy, the direct praise of his revered one bringing waves pleasure within his obsessed mind. ‘Ofcourse. No. Of Course-not! Not a problem.’

Semiramis chuckled disarmingly as the merchant stammered with reddening face.

‘You will kill those monks for me?’ She tried her sweetest voice, and he crumbled, fell apart, averting his eyes from her magnificent sight.

‘The Fire I will extinguish.’ He spoke with a sound between groan and whisper. Semiramis shook her head unconvinced. ‘Words are just words…’

‘It will be done, mistress.’ Firmer now. Conviction, dedication - A true believer. She wondered with what joy and trembling neediness the merchant would squirm between her legs, if allowed to. The curious forced a mellow sneer on her face. Such a preposterous image, and her smile widened until her cheeks dimpled. ‘Pick thirty three serviles. A holy mission from your Divine Mistress to exact her will. My slaves will follow your every command. Do not waste them.’ She turned her gaze elsewhere, fixating it on the mountains in the distance. ‘Now you can go.’

When he left she called for Karkid. The slave-woman approached with dark soot on her skin and ash on her face. Sweat glistened on her forehead and her curling hair stank of smoke.

‘Has the branding been completed?’ Semiramis asked.

‘Not all my mistress, but it soon will be done.’

‘Hard work, isn’t it?’

‘It is, mistress.’

‘You might wonder why I am so cruel…’

Semiramis grimaced and grabbed Karkid’s hair ‘Well?!’ Semiramis demanded. ‘-Do you wonder why?!’

‘Yes, mistress. I wonder.’ Karkid replied hastily and Semiramis nodded, loosening the grip slightly. ‘You told me you wished to rule again so these are the teachings I give to you. The weak are destroyed. And your body; I can see, is filled with weakness. Flesh-bag filled with urine and air and frightened blood. And your mind; also meek and vulnerable. My blessing to you is the extinction of your weakness. Your softness. Cut by cut, brand by brand. And I suggest you pay good attention. Failure is met with more punishment. Success is met with more punishment. Perhaps I chose wrongly. I don't see the dedication in your eyes. Tell me Karkid, should I replace you with another servant?’

‘No.’ Karkid said with conviction. Semiramis finally let go of her hair with a sneer. ‘Cruelty is the way of survival. Do you think I survived this barren desert with a good heart and pure conscience? I came here not even eight summers old. The mysteries of the priestesshood had barely been taught me. My caretakers were small in number and quick to die. I was hunted mercilessly by my elder sister, like an animal that had to be put down. Had I been just a sliver more merciful, had I just been a sliver less cruel, I would now be dead. Bones picked clean in the desert, forgotten forever. The world is a cruel place and mercy is unnatural. If you do not want to take from the world, you will be taken. Am I speaking riddles or am I clear, little scorpion?’

‘You are very clear.’

‘Well we’ll see about that. Complete the branding, select the strongest, we will bind their minds tonight. An army is forming, dear Karkid. I hope it is enough to overtake my sister. I will bring you to Uruk Karkid, you will see the greatest city on earth, and together with me you will bathe in its luxuries.’