Saloria
An Eternal Soul Story
by Lana Ves
Chapter 1: Birth
9548 BC
The boy was born silently, having no need to scream like the others. He was just content to be alive and in warm hands. Soon, another boy followed the first. Identical twin boys, beautiful and so far perfect. Both births went smoothly with no problems at all. "By sweet Artamis's hand, Aara, you've done me proud!" (13) the father, the King of Didymos cries in jubilation as the mother cuddles the second born to her breast as the eldest is cleaned.
The sister, Ryssa, at age seven, was eager to see the first, and gazed upon him with the pure love and adoration only children can have. It was a quiant sight, one that poets could write about. But all good things must come to an end.
"Zeus have mercy! The eldest is malformed, Majesties!" (14) the second midwife exclaimed, carrying the boy to his mother.
"It cannot be! He is blind!" the queen sobbed.
"Not so. He is not blind, your Majesties, but is born of the gods." said the eldest wisewoman from her corner. The king rounded on his wife.
"You have been unfaithful! It must be! We just witnessed the child come from you!" he roared. Aara pleaded innocence, but her incenced husband would hear none of it. The eldest twin began to cry, pleading for someone to hold him in warm arms and give him a loving smile. No one did, despite Ryssa's attempts to do so. She did not understand what was the matter with the adults. The baby look perfect to her.
"This baby will be the destroyer. None, not even the gods, will be safe from his wrath." the wisewoman said, her youthful appearance shadowed by her ancient eyes.
"Then kill him now! I will not raise a monster!" the king shouted, but the wisewoman stopped the guard that moved to follow his king's will.
"No! The twins' life forces are tied together. You kill the eldest, you kill the younger. You must raise the eldest to manhood; that is the will of the gods." (15) the wisewoman took the baby from the midwife and held it out to the mother. The queen shrank away from it. "It is yours." the wisewoman hissed with a frown.
"No, that thing is not mine. I will not suckle it, touch it, nor love it! Remove it from my sight!" the queen shrieked. The boy began to wail, the sound piercing in the tense silence.
"But Mama..!" Ryssa exclaimed, reaching out for the boy. Why was everyone being cruel to the child? It was perfect, more beautiful than she! He had done nothing but be born, yet everyone hated him. Why?
"That child is no son of mine!" (15) the king roared when the wisewoman held the baby to him. The wisewoman nodded and held the baby to be displayed to the whole room.
"Then he will be called Acheron for the River of Woe. Like the river of the Underworld, his journy will be dark, long, and enduring. He will be able to give life and take it. He will walk through his life alone and abandoned – ever seeking kindness and ever finding cruelty." the wisewoman prophesised. She looked down at the babe and spoke the haunting truth; "May the gods have mercy on you, little one. No one else will." (16) Acheron's wails could be heard hours later as he lay abandoned in his crib, alone.
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September 27th, 9546 BC
A woman's screams of agony could be heard from the distant courtyards of the Grand Palace in Eridu, Sumer. Servants rushed around, most with towels and hot water, all heading toward the royal chambers. Priests and doctors were summoned to the queen's room, which was already crowded with the numerous servants, guards, priests and doctors, not to mention the king, Salgalu, and his six sons. Another scream tore from the frail woman's body as the child she was trying to bear struggled to get out.
"Stay with us, your majesty!" the head midwife ordered when the woman looked as if she'd pass out. The queen moaned loudly, but pushed with all her might until the head of the babe could be seen.
"Alin, my sweet, keep up your strength!" the king murmured to his wife. The woman panted heavily, and then shrieked.
"She comes to fast!" Alin sobbed, gathering her strength for one more push. Now the shoulders could be seen. "Get her OUT!" the queen bellowed, nearly passing out, and the midwife carefully took hold of the infant's struggling shoulders and hauled her out.
"A girl, Majesties." The midwife announced, handing the girl to one of the many assistants to be cleaned. The child squalled in a way that sounded more like laughter than a newborn babe. Alin smiled.
"Finally, a girl!" the woman sighed, but then a tremor shook her body and she screamed once more as blood poured from her in great waves. Doctors and priests swarmed around in an attempt to save the queen, but it was too late. "Let me hold her." Alin begged weakly, and her youngest child was handed to her. She hugged the babe, and stroked her silky black hair. "My Saloria. My sweet, beautiful, little Saloria." The baby opened her eyes, and her mother gasped.
"Ama…" the child murmured, then she began to cry in earnest. The midwife took her away, even as Alin reached out to get her back.
"No, no! My baby! Let me hold my baby while I die!" There was a collective gasp from the priests.
"You must not curse her, Majesty!" the head-priest snarled. "Your death might bring hers!" The collective sobs of the mother and her daughter broke the hearts of many, but all knew that a dying mother should not hold her baby so soon after birth.
"Salgalu, you take care of her." Alin whispered, and, taking a deep breath, breathed her last. Moans of mourning were taken up, and the king took hold of his newborn.
"This is Saloria, the last child of Queen Alin and King Salgalu, Princess of Eridu of Sumer. May the gods favor her over her mother." He said, holding the child up into the air. Everyone in the room knelt where they stood in respect to their king's words, then, after a solemn moment, all bustled about to clean the body. Saloria was retrieved by the midwife and wrapped in clothes. The midwife wiped the tears that clung to the girl's cheeks. The infant opened her eyes, and the midwife shrieked.
"She is malformed, Majesty!" the old woman cried. The king, who had been heading out the door with his six sons in tow, whirled around and stormed to the midwife's side.
"How so?" he asked, then gasped when he saw the girl's eyes. The left was like burnished gold, the right a polished emerald, and there was no pupil in either. "She is bewitched!" the king roared, and was going to kill the child when the High Priest took hold of his hand.
"No! You already claimed her as yours. She is not cursed! Look at the colors, my King! She is a godsend! Enki has blessed her! Saloria, Princess of Eridu, must live!" The child stared blankly at the ceiling and reached out her tiny hands toward her father. Something came over him then, and he took hold of the baby in a protective embrace.
"Know, all of you, that this child is to be treated like the late Queen. Her word is law. Any who dare to contradict this will know my wrath, and that of the great god Enki." Salgalu proclaimed, and once again, everyone knelt in reverence to his will.
Saloria listened with newborn curiosity, the world as black as the womb. Her father's words rang in her head, but made no sense to her. The loss of her mother's warmth haunted her still, but she was just as content to be in the warm embrace of someone that loved her. She smiled, and quickly fell asleep. Saloria was safe, and would be so for a while.
Disclaimer: do not own at all. I will borrow quotes from the book, which I will properly cite later, just to be more legal... Just remember that for the rest of the chapters, OK? Just so I don't have to keep writing it...
AN: sorry that the first part was so short. I hope you enjoyed it, though. And here is the first chapter! I know, it is short too. *crosses fingers* hope you liked! I'll get the next parts up ASAP!
Here are some translation notes in actual Sumerian (whoo me!):
lugal = king, master, lord. ses = brother. ama = mother. nin = sister; queen, lady. dumu = child; son.