Prologue
750 BC—in the hills far north of the Assyrian Empire
Karem strolled into camp, proudly carrying a dead rabbit by its back feet. His hunt had been successful, and he couldn’t wait to show Mama. He found her stirring stew in a large ceramic pot. It swayed from a spit outside their tent, the food filling the camp with its savory scents. He got a curt nod of approval as he walked by and smiled. He’d done well. He made quick work of skinning and hanging the meat and returned to watch the pale parsnips, pungent onions, and savory meat roil in the bubbles. The morsels appeared and disappeared in the broth with each stroke of Mama’s wooden spoon, steam rising to dampen his chin. He wished she’d offer him a taste, but she pressed her thin lips together, too focused on her task. A drop of perspiration hung precariously from her nose before she brushed it away with the back of her hand.
Little Elanur played with her doll on a blanket nearby, her tanned legs stretched straight out, bare heels extending into the dirt. She was like sunshine, Mama always said, so using safflower petals, she’d dyed the blanket the same yellow color. Elanur had adopted the word as her doll’s name, mispronouncing it “Sunsine” in her baby talk.
“Mama, Sunsine go da-dah eee!” she said as she made the doll dance.
“Yes, my sweetheart, I see.” Mama concentrated on the stew.
Elanur called out again, and Karem turned. She smiled at him. Then she laughed, and he laughed with her.
Yes. Like sunshine.
The end of it all began with a distant shout.
Karem didn’t pay it much attention at first—the stew was too tempting. Then came another shout, followed by another. A woman called for her children, her voice high and tight. From somewhere off to the east came the rumble of horses’ hooves.
Mama paused her stirring and turned to look behind her, her gaze surveying the camp. The broth boiled faster, the bubbles popping and snapping. Elanur stopped her chatter and held her doll to her chest. More shouts. Anxious voices. Black tendrils of smoke ribboned into the southern sky. Yellow-orange tongues of flame licked the tops of two distant tents, more consuming the roof of the goat shelter.
“The gods have left us,” Mama whispered. She dropped the spoon, leaving it to sink into the broth. One of the few men who hadn’t gone on the hunt ran past, warning everyone to gather weapons. Mama darted inside the tent. Karem followed. Crouching low, Mama dug into his father’s chest, the one Karem and Elanur were forbidden to touch. She tossed aside folded clothing, a bow and arrow, and a belt before whipping out Father’s old iron dagger. The blade was long and threatening, the wooden handle darkened from use. It had been many seasons since Karem had seen it—since he’d seen his father.
“Take your sister to the trees and hide.” Mama grabbed Karem’s shoulder, her thick fingers digging into his skin. “Don’t come out until the attackers are gone.”
The crackle of flames snapped in his ears. Someone screamed outside.
“Ride Halime.”
The donkey?
“Are you listening?” Mama wrapped his cloak around him. “You must go quickly.”
Elanur appeared at the tent’s opening with her doll clasped in her arms. Mama pulled her in and prepared her for the journey, her fingers flying over sleeves and ties. She retrieved some dried meat and cheese from the storage bin, stuffed them into a leather satchel, and hung it over Karem’s shoulder.
Another scream tore through the air, followed by approaching hoofbeats. Mama gave them both a brief hug. Then she gripped the dagger and ushered them out. “Go.”
Karem grasped Elanur’s hand in his and headed out back where the donkey waited in a small corral. He kept his head craned around with his gaze on Mama. She remained in front of the tent, holding the dagger aloft.
“Mama?” Elanur reached back, fingers outstretched.
“Go!” Mama said.
Other villagers blurred past them, women and children scattering into the flatlands while a handful of men took up posts at the perimeter. Karem untied Halime. The donkey pulled the rope taut, her head up and eyes wild. Karem boosted Elanur onto the animal’s back.
“Hold on!” he said. He leapt up behind Elanur and, with the rope in his hand, scanned for Mama. She was coming toward them, a bag over her shoulder. He urged Halime forward and then jerked back, pulling the animal to a halt. A soldier dressed all in black trotted up beside Karem’s tent. He paused and looked in their direction. A lion’s head decorated the apex of his helmet, his bronze armor gleaming on his chest, long dark hair flowing over his shoulders. He hesitated a moment, as if deciding what to do next, then with a slight flick of his wrist, directed the horse toward them.
“Mama!” Karem pointed.
Mama turned. Spotting the soldier, she glanced at Karem in alarm. “Hurry! To the trees. Protect your sister!” She dropped the bag and, with the dagger aloft, stood directly in the soldier’s path. “Go, Karem!” she screamed. “Do not fail me!”
Karem hesitated as the soldier lifted his gaze. Dark eyes bore into Karem’s, sending a jolt of adrenaline through his limbs.
“Now!” Mama barked.
Karem released the tension on the rope, and the donkey launched into a bouncing gallop. Karem clenched his knees to the animal’s shoulders and his arms around Elanur to keep her steady as Halime hurried away from camp. Behind him, the soldier stopped in front of Mama and pointed his sword at her chest. Karem yelled for her to run, but Mama bent forward at the waist and let loose a screech Karem had never expected could come from her throat.
“Mama!” Karem yelled.
He pulled back, but Halime would not be swayed. Panicked, the animal ran flat out toward the trees, the smoke and tents soon concealing any sight of Mama. Up the hill they went, the sure-footed donkey maneuvering easily between the rocks. When they reached the forest’s edge, Karem pulled on the rope again, but it wasn’t until the pines had surrounded them that the animal began to tire and slow. Finally, she plunked to a stop, nearly sending the children tumbling over her head.
Karem slid off. Elanur reached out. “Stay on Halime,” Karem said. The donkey’s muscles were trembling, her breath blowing fast through her nostrils. Karem patted her sweaty neck and spoke soothing words. Then he started walking back the way they had come, the rope clenched in his fist.
“Mama!” Elanur cried.
Karem kept his gaze down, navigating the ferns and fallen trunks until he neared the edge of the forest. There, he hovered behind an evergreen, peering between its long branches. He could see the smoke-filled camp. Gray plumes rose high into the sky like ghostly warnings. Five soldiers remained around the perimeter. A sixth carried a blue flag that fluttered behind him as he galloped past the burning tents with his voice raised in a battle cry. At least ten more had gathered in a group on the east side, surrounding and imprisoning a cluster of children who cried for their mothers. Other soldiers gathered the villagers’ horses or herded the remaining goats away.
Elanur whined behind him, murmuring “Mama” over and over again. Karem wanted to get closer to find out if Mother had escaped, but he dared not. He had to keep his sister safe. He tied Halime to the tree, lifted Elanur off, and huddled with her at the base of the trunk.
“It will be all right. We’ll see Mama soon.”
When the sun came up the next morning, Karem observed the camp once more. He could see no trace of the enemy, so he put Elanur on Halime’s back and left the safety of the trees behind. A cloud of smoke hovered over the massacre, but the fires had mostly burned out. A few tents stood like skeletons, their hide coverings reduced to ash. Karem whispered to Elanur to keep quiet, but even at her young age, she didn’t need the warning. She watched Karem as she clutched her doll close.
At the sight of the first dead body in the distance, Karem searched for somewhere to secure the donkey. An old post remained upright near an outlying shelter. He tied the rope around it and pulled his sister off Halime’s back.
“You stay here.”
“Mama?”
“I’m going to look for her. Hold on to Halime, all right?”
Elanur clenched Halime’s rope in her little hand.
“That’s right. I’ll be back.” He turned away.
“Karem.”
Karem whirled. She’d never said his name before. She waved at him, her dark hair playing about her head in wispy ribbons, her lips red and chapped. “Karem,” she said again and wiggled the doll’s arm.
“Yes. And you . . .” He pointed. “You are Elanur.”
She pointed to herself and then to the doll.
“Yes. That’s Sunshine.”
Elanur studied the doll’s face made of lamb’s hide with shiny black beads for eyes. “Sunsine.”
“Stay there. I’ll be right back.” He crouched low and began jogging toward the camp.
“Sunsine. Karem.”
At nine years old, he had helped prepare slaughtered animals for food. He’d seen prisoners die, enemies his father had slain before he’d left for battle and never returned. But he hadn’t encountered carnage like this—humans cut up and left to spoil in the sun. The first was the man who had stayed home from the hunt because of a leg injury. He now lay face down, his wrapped leg the only thing identifying him. The second was the younger man charged with protecting the camp, the one who had warned everyone to get weapons. They had left him face up, his vacant eyes focused on the sky. A third, smaller figure, near one of the burnt tents, appeared crumpled and broken as if they had thrown it there. Karem cautiously lifted the cloak. A mean cut sliced open her flesh from the cheek to the neck. His stomach roiled, and he retched onto the ground beside her.
He threw up twice more while checking bodies before there was nothing left in his stomach to expel. By the time he neared the area where their shelter had been, his legs were shaky, sweaty skin sticky under his clothes.
Where was Mama? He had almost convinced himself she had gotten away when a piece of yellow fabric caught his eye. Elanur’s blanket. A plaything in the morning breeze, it lay half trapped under a body lying on its side, the rest blowing over the top of the torso and head. Familiar brown sandals protected the feet.
Tears fell down his cheeks. He needed to go closer, but dreaded what he would find. A lone goat bleated behind him. He spotted it not far from what had been Halime’s shelter. A young doe, she bleated again but dared not venture out to find her herd mates. He wiped his face with his sleeve and approached the figure under the blanket.
“Mama?”
A breeze ruffled the folds in Mama’s skirt. He walked around the sandals and knelt down. With a trembling hand, he pulled the yellow blanket down.
“Mama!”
Her eyes were closed, her cheeks pale. He combed her hair back before tucking it behind her ear the way she always did. Her skin felt cold and stiff.
“Mama, wake up. I have Elanur. We’re all right. Mama!”
He shook her shoulder, and everything else moved, even her hip and foot. He withdrew his hand and cried until his eyes stung. He might have stayed forever if it weren’t for the thought of Elanur waiting for him. Mama had told him to take care of her.
What if the soldiers returned?
Folding back the blanket, he found Mama still held the dagger. Dried blood covered the blade. She had wounded whoever had killed her. The vision of the young soldier flashed through his mind. Brave Mama. Crying again, he slipped the wooden handle out of her stiff fingers, smoothed her hair once more, and got to his feet.
He didn’t know how long he stood there. He didn’t want to leave Mama by herself. But Elanur was alone too. Mama would want him to check on her. He forced himself to explore what remained of their tent. Inside, a few things had survived—some bowls and utensils, the stone his mother used to grind grain into flour, his father’s trunk, and some tools. The food, though, which he had hoped for, was only ash and dust. They’d have to get by on what Mama had packed inside the satchel.
He exited the tent and cast one last look at Mama. New tears spilled down his cheeks. He gripped the dagger tightly and walked away to get Elanur. They would ride to the next village. They would find shelter. It was all up to him now.
He moved with his head down, sniffling. As he passed the last burnt tent, he tried to summon his courage. He had to be like Father, he told himself. Strong. And brave, like Mama. The wind whipped past him, drying his cheeks.
“Karem!”
He jerked his head up. Halime remained where he’d left her, the donkey’s short body dwarfed by a strapping sorrel stallion standing beside her. The beast was impressive, with muscles glistening in the morning sun and mighty hindquarters set to spring. The young soldier on his back wore a helmet with a lion carved into the apex. It was the one who had attacked Karem’s mother. He’d placed Elanur on the saddle in front of him, where her little legs stretched to either side, her arms resting helplessly on the soldier’s sleeves.
“Karem!” she called, pointing to the doll on the ground below. “Sunsine!”
The soldier nudged his horse forward. As the mighty beast approached, Karem had a powerful urge to run, but he couldn’t leave Elanur. He slipped his father’s dagger into his belt at the small of his back, dropped his shirt over it, and readied himself for what was to come.
The soldier stopped and drew his sword. “So, you’ve returned, donkey boy.” He smirked. “Join us or die.”
Elanur’s lower lip protruded, her dark eyes fixed alternately on her brother and the ground where the doll lay.
“What say you?” The soldier pushed the sword toward Karem’s chest.
Be brave. Karem looked up into the soldier’s eyes. “Who are you?”
“I am the one who conquered your village. One day, I will be a great king. They will call me King Sargon II, after the legendary leader of the Akkadian Empire. Like him, I will rule over all these lands.” He stretched his hand out, gesturing to the wide horizon. “I have defeated you and your people. Since you are a boy—a stupid coward of a boy who ran away—but a boy, I offer you one last chance for your life. Follow me or die here like the rest of your pitiful camp.”
Sargon. Karem repeated the name in his mind. He imagined rushing the soldier and rescuing Elanur, but he knew he’d be sliced in two before he got there. “Why did you attack us?”
Sargon sat up straight and then winced, favoring his right side. Karem noticed a small tear in his tunic and dried blood underneath. Had Mama given him that wound?
“We are conquerors,” Sargon said. “I will see you surrender.”
Elanur reached for the doll. “Karem,” she said.
Karem felt his own features crumble. He looked down, made his face stony, and lifted his gaze to the soldier.
“You killed my mother.”
“And, it seems, I have your sister.” Sargon patted Elanur’s head.
Ice ran through Karem’s veins. He stared at his ash-stained sandals. Everything was gone now. Everything and everyone. Worse, this soldier had been the one to take his mother from him. He trudged forward, shifting his arms behind his back and assuming the pose of surrender.
“You have decided well,” the soldier said.
The mighty stallion’s thick front legs ended in black hooves planted firmly in the dirt. Karem walked past them, stopping when he came near the rider’s boot. This close, the soldier appeared younger than before, the bronze armor too big for his shoulders. Karem whisked the dagger out and stabbed it hard into Sargon’s thigh.
Sargon howled in pain. Karem reached for Elanur, but Sargon struck out clumsily with his sword. The blade caught Karem’s neck and sliced over his chest. He stumbled back. Sargon transferred the sword to his other hand and pulled the dagger out of his leg with a shout. It dripped with his blood. Karem turned and ran. The stallion came thundering after him.
There were no trees to climb, no areas of low ground where he could hide. Ahead lay only a broad stretch of hilly land covered in wild grasses. Blood soaked his shirt, but Karem stayed on his feet. “Elanur,” he said, but his voice had little energy and his dagger was gone. Sargon was gaining on him. Karem wasn’t going fast enough. The enemy would soon be upon him, and he had no ideas left.
He would be like Mother, face down in the dirt.
A full moon gleamed brightly overhead, casting the stars into shadow. Karem shivered, his fingers stiff with cold. He raised his hand to his chest and touched dried blood. The horror returned in a rush. The soldier. Mama. Elanur. He pressed his hands into the dirt and sat up.
“There you are.”
A shadowed figure lingered nearby. Perched on a high stool, she had her back to him, her blue gown sparkling as if it had captured the stars themselves within its seams.
“I wondered if you had the strength.” She peered over her shoulder at him.
Never had he seen such a woman. Her fair skin was flawless. Dark eyes framed by lovely arched brows lingered on him, her silky black hair cascading in waves past her bare shoulders. Even more of a marvel was the white light emanating from her body, as if she were made of the moon itself.
“The soldiers are long gone.” She rotated toward him, her dress clinging to her breasts as if it were part of them. “The last one took the little girl, too.”
“You saw her?”
The woman stroked an animal he hadn’t noticed before. It stood at her side, tall enough that its head rose above the seat of her stool, its haunting blue eyes focused on him. A wolf, it looked like, though it was taller, its coat as black as the night. Its ears were longer too, like a horse’s ears, pointed and thin.
“I thought you might want this.” The woman held up Elanur’s doll. Karem’s chest tightened. Sunshine. The woman slid off the stool and approached, her body rolling like waves in a river. She came until she was so close that her light was almost blinding. Her scent wafted toward him, sweet like evergreen leaves in the rain.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Karem.”
“I am Katiah.” She straightened a clump of hair that remained on the doll’s head. “Some call me by different names, but your people prefer Katiah. Truthfully, it’s my favorite.” She smiled at him, then pointed. “I found you over there.”
Karem looked behind him. A figure his size lay on the cold ground.
“Tell me, Karem. Have you been told of the underworld?”
He nodded.
“So, you know. That’s where some people go when they die.”
A thought occurred to him. “Mama?”
“She is on her journey. It’s possible you could join her.”
Karem’s heart leapt in his chest. See Mama again! But then his gaze fell on the doll. “Elanur?”
“She lives, in the possession of the young soldier.”
Karem grimaced, closing his eyes. Sargon.
“Tell me something, Karem. Do you want to rescue her?”
He didn’t have to think about it. He nodded.
“And does your heart long for revenge against this soldier who killed your mother and stole your sister?”
He nodded again, clenching his fist.
She cocked her head, studying him. “If you really want it, you must be willing to sacrifice for it.”
“He killed Mother. For no reason.” Karem blinked, his eyes stinging. “He took Elanur. She was my responsibility.”
Katiah extended her hand to him, the strange wolf-like creature observing from a few steps back. “Beg me for your life, Karem, that you may have your revenge. Promise to worship your goddess Katiah for all your life, to honor her in every way, to share her name with all you meet.” She raised her other hand toward the sky. “Beg the goddess Katiah for a chance to save your sister, and I will grant it.”
She gestured once more to the figure on the ground. Karem walked toward it, sweat breaking out over the back of his neck. He peered down at the boy. A long wound stretched from the neck to the chest where blood stained the shirt and pooled underneath. When he glanced back, the goddess was there, waiting.
Karem rushed toward her and dropped to his knees. “Please, beautiful goddess. I must save Elanur. Mother told me to keep her safe. I failed.” His voice caught. “I left her alone, and he took her. It was my fault. Please, Goddess Katiah. Give me my life so that I may have another chance.”
“You will worship me always?”
“Always.”
“Remember your promise, little king.”
Karem frowned, puzzled. King? When he looked up, the goddess had lifted her arms. Bright streaks of moonlight rained down from the sky. She spoke words he didn’t understand, the light expanding around her. His instinct was to flee, but he resisted, letting the glow encircle him. Its beams warmed his limbs as Katiah’s words filled his ears. Gradually, he rose into the air, floated over the boy’s body, and then dropped back down into it. He felt a mighty crash, a rumbling of the earth, and then a searing pain in his neck and chest. He cried out for what seemed like forever until everything went quiet.
When he opened his eyes, the sun had returned. The goddess was gone, and so was the pain. He touched his chest, but his shirt had been repaired. The skin underneath held only a long, thin scar. By his side rested Elanur’s doll, discarded in a crumpled heap. Clutching it to him, he stood up and scanned the area. He was alone. Beyond, the camp lay deathly still, the smoke dissipating into the new day. At its edge, Halime stood tied to the post.
“Goddess Katiah?” he called, but there was no answer. He looked to the sky. “Thank you. I will remember my promise.” After a few more moments in reverent silence, he retrieved Halime. He would find a nearby village and gather some supplies. Then he would go after Sargon. He would save Elanur. He would have his revenge, in the name of Katiah.
