Ibex River
Uruk ran fast, but still he was pursued. The footsteps were barely audible over the sound of his breathing, but they were there.
Fortunately, he was almost to the city. Very soon he’d be able to lose his pursuers among the twists and turns of the streets and alleys. He crossed a footbridge over the Ibex River and marched uphill. A few more farms and he’d be free.
Uruk was halfway through a barley field, the new plants just beginning to bud, when he heard the footsteps again. His hunter. Closer than ever and moving fast. Faster than any man could run. Uruk glanced back at the river, then at Ur. At the speed they were coming, he’d never reach the city in time.
Better to face it, he decided. Whatever it was. He slid his sword from its scabbard. From the darkness on the other side of the footbridge he could hear the thing panting, its breath whistling through its teeth. Then Uruk saw its yellow eyes.
Among his people there were stories of demons that ruled the night, eyes blazing in the darkness. Uruk had never believed those tales, as with all things supernatural he was a skeptic, but he gripped his sword tighter all the same. His heart raced as he went to meet this demon, whatever form it might take. He was almost to the bridge when it trotted from the shadows.
It was a dog. In fact, it was the very same animal he’d seen in front of the ziggurat, starved near to death. Uruk laughed at himself as he walked across the footbridge. The dog glanced up at him for only a moment, then slumped toward the riverbank. It was so tired that it lay down to drink.
Uruk sat down beside the dog and dug his toes in the mud. It looked over at him momentarily, and then went back to lapping up the river water.
“Careful dog, you will make yourself sick,” Uruk said.
The dog kept drinking.
Uruk took his tunic from his satchel, turned it inside out and dunked it in the water. He used it to wipe the clay off his chest, face and head. It felt good to be clean.
When the clay was all gone, Uruk rinsed out his tunic and slipped it on over his head. He sighed as the cold water ran down his back.
The dog was the color of the desert sands, with short hair and a long tail that curved up slightly toward its back. ‘A handsome beast,’ Uruk thought. Or it could be, if only it wasn’t so skinny.
He took the remains of a pork shank from his satchel, tore off a chunk of meat for himself and held out the rest.
The dog growled.
Almost too fast to see, Uruk backhanded it - flipping it over and sending it sliding in the dirt. The dog came up furious.
It jumped toward him again, growling, and Uruk thumped it on the nose.
This time the dog yelped and leapt away. It hadn’t expected Uruk to be so fast.
Uruk held the bone out to the dog again. “If you want it, take it. But I will have no threats.” He grinned. “Especially not when I am the one with the meat.”
The dog put its head down and inched forward. Its teeth and lips nipped at the air. Fear and hunger were at war within it. Finally, the dog dodged in, licked the meat, and dodged away. Hunger was winning.
Uruk put the bone on the ground next to his thigh. He could see that this dog had dealt with men before. In the <st1:country-region><st1:place>Shinar</st1:place></st1:country-region>, and even as far away as the coastal cities, dogs were most often raised for their meat. “I never eat hunters,” Uruk assured it.
The dog inched toward him again, this time with its head held high. Its eyebrows twitched as it sniffed him. Gently, it bent and took the meat.
While the dog ate, Uruk pulled the Maidenhead from where it lay hidden in his breeches and held it up to the moon. The white light shining through the jewel made a strange shadow, slightly red, at his feet. “Beautiful,” he muttered. Then he scooped up a handful of mud and smeared it over the jewel, hiding the red glow beneath dark earth.
Beside him, the dog’s teeth clicked on bone.
From Slaves of the Shinar
The Overlook Press 2007
© Justin Allen
