Prologue: A City Dying
Akkad burns.
From my terrace at the private quarters of the temple, naked save for the exquisite jewels that cover little, I sip the liquid from my bejewelled chalice and take in the spectacle below. The clamour of battle and the screams of the dying were more beautiful to me in that moment than any song composed by the lute or pipe. Idly I watched with fascination as the savages tore down buildings, slew the men and violated the women. The once proud capital of an empire was in its death throes.
As the statue of Inanna was pulled down I clapped in delight, knowing that it meant the huluppu tree was Hers again. Truly I had succeeded.
Some of the citizens sought refuge at my temple, only to find the mighty doors closed to them. They soon fell to the invaders, who began hammering and clambering for a way into the building.
It is time.
I finished the milky fluid, careful not to spill a drop of the precious contents, the taste enflaming me anew, and cast the chalice away. The gold and jewels meant little to me now, I tore them away and cast them over the balcony. I made my way to the main area of worship, empty save for my most loyal handmaidens, who had stripped themselves of all clothing for what was to come. I seated myself upon the throne of the High Priestess, the chambers echoing with the thunderous sounds of the doors, shaking on their hinges from the force of the horde outside.
With a simple gesture, I order my handmaidens to open the doors. I was well aware that I had fallen to the madness inherent with worshipping my goddess. But I cared not. The thought of giving myself to all those bloodthirsty men thrilled me to the core. At last I could cast it all aside and be who I am, who we all are.
The doors barely opened when they all swarmed in, screaming in their battle fury. Some set to on my handmaidens, who screamed with savage glee as they were overwhelmed, but most charged straight toward me. With a smile, I spread my legs invitingly to them, revealing everything. I eagerly awaited the brutal raping I would receive before my inevitable death. Sex and death have ever been intertwined, a truth I would enact that bloody night.
Except it did not happen.
As soon as I offered myself to them freely they halt as one and simply stare at me, fixated. I become wet with anticipation, I had assumed they stopped momentarily, confused that I was so willing. Their eyes roving my body only increased my excitement. No doubt the women beyond the temple had been less than enthusiastic, so this must have appeared suspicious to them. But this was not the case at all.
I laughed hysterically, both delighted and disappointed, when they all begin to kneel and prostrate themselves before me, murmuring the name of my goddess.
At that moment, I could not help but reminisce how a simple slave nu-gig like me came to be an object of devotion and worship.
The Broken One
Ludari regarded the beautiful harlot seated upon the furs opposite him, shamelessly naked and alluring to the eye. She was the epitome of the desert whose outskirts he lived on, hot, merciless, savage and beautiful. Could she be the one?
He had to hold himself back. He knew he could have her, he need only toss a single worthless coin and she would give herself to him. But that was not why he had been raised here in this harsh wilderness, it was forbidden for him to partake of those who were drawn by the call. To do so would be to risk his deity's ire, which could prove fatal. Besides, those cursed women were dangerous, walking the path of insanity only to fall into the abyss. Ludari did not care to be dragged down with them.
One of his wives entered and poured the wine, a lovely young thing men would kill for. Yet when compared to the woman seated before him she was a mundane thing indeed. Ludari sighed, for generations his family had resided here, making a fortune guiding merchants and the like around the arid terrain. As the deity had promised his so many greats grandfather, he and his descendants would want for nothing so long as they stayed here to host and cater to the cursed ones before they attempt the pilgrimage. That was what his father had taught him, but apparently such women came rarely, generations could go by before it occurred. Ludari was content with his luxurious life so felt no desire to leave, he never believed one of these women would appear in his lifetime.
"You say your name is Silili. After the goddess of horses, you come from a family who reared horses perhaps?" Ludari wondered if Silili could see the vague lump in his robes, brought on by the erection she inspired.
Silili shrugged and accepted the glass from Ludari's wife, "No, they started calling me that when a bored and wealthy devotee offered the temple a large sum if one of their nu-gigs pleasured his horse."
Ludari felt his jaw drop, "You accepted?"
Silili gave a smile set Ludari's heart racing. It promised such delights and depravities that he was tempted to surrender everything he had to have her, only the memories of his grandfather's dire warnings kept him in check. Silili answered with the husky voice of a seductress, "They certainly did not start calling me that because I declined. Besides, I find the taste of horse semen rather agreeable."
Excited and terrified, Ludari sought to steer the conversation away from her lurid acts, "So what is your real name? The name your father gave you?"