Twenty one - Hunt the Heretics

Sitting on the veranda of Yayatum’s estate, Heabani pursed his red mouth. His large decorated eyes followed Mysradi’s boat as it landed ashore.

‘Tell me, what do you have me to say?’ The eunuch asked. ‘Sapphire is ready for extraction?’

Mysradi ran up the steps to the estate and did not speak until he was next to the eunuch.

‘The opposite.’ He whispered, eyes cast downward in submission.

Heabani noticed a dribble of blood flowing down Mysradi’s dark veiny arm.

‘It seems my suspicions, as they often do, have been confirmed.’ The eunuch gently replied. ‘But I wonder how a group of traders were able to strike down a pack of Uruk riders, most of all led by you Mysradi. Your reputation has suffered. Are you getting old? Need I replace my trusted, beloved hand with someone possessing of … fresher blood?’

‘We are all getting older.’ The scarred warrior droned back in a soft wheeze, glancing at the pompous white wig on the eunuch’s head. ‘They were hardened men. All trained for war. Sapphyr was waiting for us. I killed three - traitors but we were outnumbered. My men dead or dying I thought it wiser to return to you.’ Mysradi gripped his throat with a painful expression, the long sentences straining his vulnerable voice.

‘In that regard you have handled properly.’ Heabani conceded with a sigh. ‘Sapphire is the worst type of creature. I assume it was he that also poisoned Yayatum. I liked Yayatum, he was a good asset. I will take up my base of operations in his estate for a while, go through his records, establish some council of traders. Despite the troubles you and I share gold still needs to flow. Why Yaya needed to die I still dont know. But he knew something, something Sapphire didn't like?’

Mysradi shrugged. ‘I wouldn't know.’

Heabani wetted his lips. ‘We dont indeed, but I will find out.’

The eunuch’s age and exhaustion showed through his cosmetics, the layer of skin powder breaking up by deep grooves of old age.

‘I am sending you after him, of course. Do you already suspect why Sapphire is so dangerous?’

The nostrils of Mysradi’s large angled nose twitched.

‘Another one?’ He asked carefully, a wet clicking resounding in his throat a few moments after he had spoken.

Heabani nodded. ‘Another one. Who else can bring men to hide from the light of the temple? It was the one called Semiramis, apparently still alive. When I became Eneduanna’s eunuch the matrons informed me of this particular exile, and over the years I have done my best to track her. My predecessor had almost caught her, I was told, when the high-born dove was but a little girl. ‘’Almost’’; the word I hate the most. I have made attempts of course, but I only drove her deeper into the southern sands. So far she went I thought her fallen over the edge of the world.

Now it seems she has returned. My whispers from the west have dried up, beyond the walls my eyes are blind. Listen well Mysradi, your primary concern is capturing Sapphire; Alive. If he however were to die during a hasty interrogation it would be acceptable. The merchant knows too much, and his vile acts have earned him a death’s sentence.’

Heabani looked out over the waters of the passing canals. Birds on Yayatum’s island estate chirped in the trees around them.

‘Be quick about it Mysradi! This situation better be resolved by the time Eneduanna wakes from her ritual. Trust me when I say she will not be eager to hear about her sister. Now Imagine what she will do when she finds out a merchant has betrayed, poisoned and murdered her servants, and got away with it? Heads will roll Mysradi...’ Heabani scraped his throat. ‘Once Sapphire is dealt with I want you to search for the sister. When you know return to me. I need a location, a region at least, and the number of her following. I am granting you fifty men, horsed, cameled, equipped with whatever mounts I can extract from the merchant’s guild. You will depart immediately. Dress for the sands Mysradi, and may the wind be at your back.’

Mysradi held in his mount as he saw the tall figure standing amongst the sands.

They had reached Eneduanna-to-the-west, and fifty red men dismounted in her shadow. They took off their helmets and went to their knees in communal prayer, prostrating themselves before the statue. After prayer and tribute, the pack of red looked at their leader for guidance.

Mysradi moved his camel around, eyes fixed on the ground below him, following tracks. They led north, west and south, and the sand of the desert was already slowly eroding the imprints.

Time is fleeting.

‘My-men.’ Mysradi vibrated hoarsely. ‘We have ridden in silence. You know who I am. what I do. Today we are hunting special prey. To the west lives an impostor of Eneduanna. A desert sorceres that ensnares men with her lies. But there is only one Divine. One mistress. One Goddess. Her name is Eneduanna and she is our High-Priestess. Praise Eneduanna.’

And the men praised her name.

Mysradi continued. ‘Famed Sapphyr has been … led astray by the hand of this witch. I encountered him this morning. He had no remorse in killing men from Uruk. I have wounded his caravan, but Sapphyr escaped. Sapphyr and his followers are heretics. They need to be killed before their sickness spreads and escapes into the wider world. They have betrayed … the queen of heaven.

Now this place seems dry and without life, but there are wells and places of shadow for the patient. Keep calm, conserve your water and spare your mount. WIthout it youre not getting back...’

Mysradi coughed painfully, spat out a wad of slime, then continued in grated whisper. ‘Now it is time for the hunt.

There were three paths but they chose west. They tracked until there were no tracks left, and Mysradi was left to rely on his instincts. They rode on in a cloud of dust, pressing their mounts while their prey was still close. Suddenly Mysradi halted. He smelled the air, caressed his old trophy-ears with closed eyes, then decided to change course towards a great mountain of sand towards their north. His camel groaned, as did the camels of his men, and the horses of his pack were trailing behind even further, legs sinking deep into the shifting sand. With difficulty they reached the top, and Mysradi had a view over the great desert around them. Orange sun was lowering over the dunes, giving the entire land a burned bronze colouring. Mysradi’s throat clicked contently as he sighed a small group of camels were on the horizon, just a few silhouettes of the four legged humped striders, illuminated on the crest of a sand-hill before disappearing into a lower valley again.

Mysradi checked his pack, seeing his warriors restless and eager. The half-wild Urukian horses neighed with foam at their mouths.

‘Kill them.’ The old scarred hunter croaked. His bald leathery dome gave a slight shine of sweat. His large ears were fixed forward as if he had tracked his prey through the desert by their sound alone. ‘-And take their water. Do not touch Sapphyr. He won't fight back anyway.’ He groaned in a final rattle. The dry air was worsening his damaged vocal cords and he had spoken too much today.

Mysradi squinted his beady eyes, hoping to see a gem-like glistening amongst the distant caravan. At his flanks warriors mounted upon horse and camel galloped forward. The riders held long lances and bows. They split in two red swarms, moving to pincer a party of some four camels and their treacherous handlers. It would be over quickly.

Mysradi leisurely cantered his camel after his riders, seeing no need to exhaust his mount. One hand returned to his necklace of ears. Many he had taken but only those that had challenged him were worn. Sapphyr would make a fine trophy. A star around his neck, he’d wear the merchant with pride.

His camel ploughed up over yet another mountainous dune, a slow struggle against the restless sand. Once at the top Mysradi could see the hunt already over. Red figures on pale dark haired horses and yellow camels milled around the carcasses of their prey. Mysradi said nothing, but made a threadbare humm. With inquisitive attention he watched. No fallen Uruk’s, no shame this time. And no escaped victims, no pursuits still occuring. A clean hit, the poor camels riddled with arrows, and the caravaneers scattered around, one with a broken lance in his torso.

The happy conversations of his men fell silent as Mysradi joined them. He peered down the bodies. Tall, lanky men wrapped in simple robes. One would almost think them innocent. Mysradi jumped to the ground with heavy boots of dark animal-hide. He turned the corpses over, inspected their faces. In death they seemed calm, asleep, little sign of the violence that had ejected them from the world just moments ago. But there was no prized Sapphyr.

Mysradi wanted to scream in rage but thought it better to save his vulnerable voice. ‘Steer back west. West we… go.’