The Promise
She cursed herself as she went to the place that Akkasur had told Kronos to have her go to. She wondered if it would not have been better to take up the offer of having men sent to seek him out, to have him be put to death after the fashion of criminals-but that was not her way. It was a way that would have been appropriate to mortals, but it was not a way she could accept. She was about to do the unthinkable.
Anath-Sin was early, and she waited. She brought no weapons at all-not her sword, nor a knife. She did not need them, nor want them, not for the task that she had at hand. She had only her words to suffice as her weapon, but well she knew they should be enough.
At the sight of Akkasur, she was reminded at once that he was not an evil man. No, he was only a man, and a man who had made a terrible mistake. She had not even fully explained to Methos what his mistake had been when she explained the tale, anymore than she had ever been able to explain it to Akkasur, himself. But she would try to get across that mistake to him before she died.
He was, after all, one of her students.
"Akkasur. We should have words."
"We should have more than words. I should have your head, and you should have death," he sneered.
Her eyes searched his face for something-not for mercy or sympathy, but simply for something natural or human, but she wasn't certain she saw that. He stood just as he had before-capable of inspiring her pity as well as her hate. His eyes were dark, but glowed with malicious intent.
"Before you take my head, Akkasur, I think I owe you something more," she said, knowing that she was making a gamble. She had no reason to expect that she should win this bet against herself, but the tiniest inkling that an honorable man lurked within the deeper recesses of his soul. "I owe you an explanation. And you-you may not accept this, but you owe me a request."
"A request? What right have you to ask anything of me?"
Anath-Sin smiled, sadly. "Because it is my dying request. And because, though you do not well know it, I have taught you better than any of my other…"
"Do not say it! You denied me!" His eyes blazed, and she noted the hollows underneath them. Perhaps he had sat the whole night thinking on his revenge. Just as he had thought of his revenge the last…could it be that nearly one hundred years had passed? It could. She thought. It certainly could. One hundred years since his first and last lesson.
"Students," she went on. "For you learned from me, Akkasur. You learned from me, far more than you will ever realize. Do you really think I did an injury to you? You breathe. You live. You walk. I could have done things far worse-take your eyes. Take your legs, or worse. There are worse things I could have done to you, heed me. There are worse things. I've done it to all of my students-worse things. Take their innocence. Take their love. Take their lives. Take their faith. And you-I only took the least part…and remember…you do remember, don't you?"
The wind stirred his long, dark hair. His face fell, and she could see the memories also stirred. But he remained silent. He did not dare to utter the truth about what he had done. It was too cowardly to speak of. She smiled to think she might remind him.
"It was your choice. Your life-altered, or your death, whole. And you accepted it. You begged for your life, even after the deed had been done. You begged. All because I made you love your life. You pitiable creature. You loved your pathetic life," she said, barely keeping the mocking tone from her voice.
"Witch!" he hissed, and she saw the twitching of his sword hand. She did not imagine death would come to her before she said all that she needed to say. She pointed only her finger at the sword, and his arm was still.
"Well you remember, even with no sword you should make no guesses about what I can or can not do. You know that I could pluck your weapon from your hands. You know my words alone can do damage…why do you not hear me out, now, as you should have, then?" She walked towards him, without fear. "So young you were, and so foolish. You are still young, to me. Four hundred years? You are a baby, still learning. Learn from me. You don't even begin to know what will become of you once you have taken my head.
"You came to me because you knew my name. It was something to conjure with in that day-it still is, in some places. I had no love of killing by then, but you came to me, eyes shining. You wanted the one thing I alone could give you, you said. Oh, stop me if I need not go on!"
He looked at her face in rapt attention and astonishment. She knew she had no choice to go on. She thought she might like to speak forever, if that only meant she might live so long as she spoke.
"I told Methos it was simply the rape. No, not that that should horrify the likes of him. And my king, I never told him at all. And the others, they do not know the tale. But perhaps I did not lie to Methos. You didn't want my body: what you wanted was so much worse, Akkasur. You wanted what no one ever thought to take from me. And if you knew well what it was I had, you'd never have desired it, anyway. My power. Insanity. You wanted me to teach you how I bring forth the words to make my will. You wanted to take my very will. You wanted it for the Game. You wanted power. Over men, over Immortals."
She saw his body shudder when she uttered the word. She knew it was true.
"You wanted me to teach you, even when I said I would not. And worse--you knew I was the best--and respected me not, for I was a woman! As if that should have made me less dangerous? Had it done that? I said I would teach you the sword…and that was all. I told you, I do not know how I do what I do…and you would not hear me. You said I lied, as all women lie. I am not all woman, Akkasur. I am Anath-Sin, and I would never have lied. Not about that."
"You raised up Sargon! You had the temple built for Uta-nammu! And you married him!" Akkasur spat. "And you said you would do no such things for one of us…now look at you-and your king. All lies. You lie! About everything!"
She shook her head. "I never lie. Perhaps that is why I can do so much with a word, Akkasur. As for him…he will know worse pain…because he must give up the life I gave him. It is easier to die than change your way of living, do you not know that? He has lived this life I have given him…but only too late do I see my error. When he must do as we do-no people, no family, no…" Her lips shook, but she told herself she would not show tears to this man. He would only deride her for them. Tears were fine for a child, but for an old woman such as herself, they would be mere foolishness. "He will grow to hate that world. The world most men know. I've tried to tell you-it is better to die. Why else would I be so willing to give up my life? I can feel the change in the air-"
"I do not know what I had wanted from you, Anath-Sin. You are a madwoman. I should take your head, gladly."
He made to lift his sword, but she moved yet closer to him, and placed a hand on his face. It was a young man's face, just as his voice was a young man's voice. It was a shame he should have had to have been made as he was.
"Hate. Petty hate. You learned the sword well enough to best me once. You bested me. I was astounded. But you were not satisfied. I see now. I see. What you had wanted. Satisfaction at knowing you were better than I was. And you wanted to shame me for it. Very well. Taking my body, yes, using my body, as a woman is used, that would have been a shame to me. But you didn't seem to realize that I am an Immortal, not a woman. And I was older than you, stronger in years, and in my will. Toe to toe, you could not beat me, even if you could with a sword. For one moment of pettiness, you lost your poor bit of flesh. You could have lost your life. But I thought I would teach you a lesson."
She did not flinch when he knocked her hand away. He pushed her down to her knees. "You call it a lesson? You mutilated me! And that was a lesson?"
"Of course. I wounded you because I was not about to let you have your life, and then lose it the next day for the same stupidity. I do not know what you think with-but it certainly should not have been that! I took your manhood, hoping to make a man out of you. You'll live a very long time, Akkasur. You won't miss it every day. You wanted to live? You live."
"I will hate you…even so long as I live, Anath-Sin. As I have hated you every day."
She looked at him in disbelief, but then she saw that he fully intended to hate her, even as he said. Even so long as he lived. "I will be dead and gone. Once I am dead and gone, forget me. My name dies today. I have nothing else. Go ahead and kill me. Let the past be no more than the past. By the holy! You begged for your life, and now you won't live!" she exclaimed, in exasperation.
His hand fastened itself in her hair. "I have dreamed of having you on your knees before me. And I have longed to do this thing. And once you are dead…I may just take the others."
"Spite," she whispered sadly. "You haven't learned. That is why I have a request to ask of you. Touch not one of them. Not a one of mine. You have your life, but should you lay a hand upon any of them, your life is lost-and do not think it will not be me that kills you!"
Akkasur jerked her head back, looking into her eyes. The sun reflected off of them for a moment and they seemed to flash-but that was a mere trick of the light. It could be no more than a trick of the light. But he was unnerved, all the same.
"The words. Your will. You are powerless, and your words are powerless. I'll start with your youngest. I will leave the one you loved best…for the end."
She laughed to hear the words. "Yes. I did care for Methos more than you. It is very dear of you to recall that. You killed Uta-nammu, but I made sure you didn't go after him that night, didn't I? And you have been so single-minded. You've even spoken to him since, and laid not a hand. You knew I would kill you for that. Even after my death-that stands. Do not believe you can kill me in truth, Akkasur. You do not have the power to put down such a one as me-not where they are concerned."
He leaned down to better see her face. She seemed to look through him.
"I am Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow. I have the power to be reborn. I am the Beginning and the End of Time. It is a wheel, Akkasur. It always has been. You should be very afraid of taking my head."
He had first seen her in Kemet, all those years ago. They spoke of the woman who took the head of Imhotep as if she was not human. They spoke of her as one who made the rivers turn red, and said she was the oldest who still lived. Jude of Larsa took to holy ground fearing the very name of Anath-Sin-he gave her some slight, that she had long forgotten, but she took his head-it had to be her who took his head, in the end. She stared beyond him, at some point in the distance.
"I started my journey by killing. There was a day-I was told what I would be. The world would be made in my image. The old stone mother, the oldest of her time, she told me. The world was made in the image of a bloody-handed fool. A woman who loved and killed all the same. I tried to deny her, and said it would be the age of the son. I was every bit the idiot…I was. And now, I see it. The next age is yours, Akkasur. Not the Age of the Son, but the age of a bitter, woman-hating, petty little vengeful ass who yearns for life, and never lives it. And the world may well follow your image once you've taken my head. I shouldn't be surprised.
"You won't enjoy it. The Quickening, I mean. It will…when I took them…the old stone mother and Imhotep…each of them ripped me apart. You will be ripped apart. Promise me you won't lay a hand on any of mine, Akkasur, if you still must kill me."
"I must do it, Anath-Sin. But what on earth stops me from killing them?"
Her eyes-it was no trick of the light. They blazed.
"Fear of me. I say you will not. Because I will return. Younger but wiser. My fate has always been laid out to me-death. Rebirth. A little death, and rebirth. Countless deaths, countless rebirths. And now…you promise me."
Akkasur did not need to hear another word. He lifted the sword. "Fine. If It will quiet you-I'll promise you."
She closed her eyes, but her lips moved even as she awaited the blow. She wondered what that would feel like-the blade sweeping on her. Would she be conscious even as her Quickening left her? She had seen the eyes of dying men and women-they knew. They looked into her own eyes as their lights went out. She wondered if she would feel her death come upon her.
"I am Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow. I have the power to be reborn. I am the Beginning..."
The ground shook, but did not split. The sky darkened, for a moment. Akkasur was thrown to the ground, and he did not get up for a long, long time, but lay there, unconscious. When he awoke, he knew he dared not lay hands on any of them.
He had made a promise, and underneath it all, she had been correct. He was petty, but he knew there was nothing less honorable than going back on his word. And also, she was correct about another thing.
He feared the return of Anath-Sin.
*****
The dynasty of Sargon was ended not long after the death of Naram-Sin. He was succeeded by one of his household, but there came a day when the Goutis came from the mountain, and all was chaos. Of those days, it had been said, "Who knew then who was king?" Also it was said that plagues were brought upon the people of Agade, for there had been a long ago error by one king, too impetuous and warlike, who had destroyed the city of Nippur.
Histories are ever incomplete. For temples were built in those days, just as they were built in the days of his father, Sargon. And the gods don't visit people with plagues. They bring them on themselves.
Histories are ever incomplete.
In Uruk, for instance, some histories say Gilgamesh died-a natural death. A death after the way of men. Another history states that he died some thousand or so years after that-an unnatural death, being Immortal. Few know the truth. He was Immortal, and died, in Lagash of all places. He was killed by Jude of Larsa. But the name lived on. It was used by one poor soul who made the mistake of claiming to be the oldest. A mortal witnessed the death of the unfortunate-whose name still goes unknown. To this day, some fools think they saw the death of a legend.
No mortals saw the death of the true oldest. But Immortals sensed it.
Stelae are raised to the memory of kings, but can not tell if a king was good or bad-only that he had the wealth or wit to be remembered. Histories are even written on Immortals, but they are-incomplete. They never tell the half.
No stelae were raised to her memory. No history was ever written. Her body was buried and her name all but died. Only a stone was left to mark the spot.
It read, simply: The Whore. And the sands covered it, eventually.
Akkasur, the man who killed her, lived a long time, as was foretold. He dreamed dreams. He dreamed he saw her in Thebes. He dreamed he saw her in Crete, and on Slaine Hill in Armagh. He dreamed he saw her in Washington, D.C. And then, someone younger and wiser killed him.
Nothing ever ends.