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9
Zanika
The next coupleof days go by in a flash. All of my time is split between caring for the girls who have been through so much terrible shit and making sure the palace is completely stripped of every memory of its ugly, culty past. This means disassembling and burning all the devices used by the members on both the townspeople and these poor women.
The fortitude of the girls is mind boggling. Many of them have been through more than I can even imagine, and they still get on with life. Luckily, the new batch, of which I was a part, was only tired from the march through the desert. We had no injuries ourselves, so we were able to band together and help the more unfortunate ones. Five of the girls did run off the moment they had the chance, but many stayed to help in the new order, realizing that there really wasn’t anywhere to go.
Many of the eleven girls already here that had not already been killed, or killed themselves, had more psychological damage than they did physical. I found out that most of them had been brought here about a month ago. That’s a long time to endure hell. I talked to everyone who wanted to, but many of them were still in shock and couldn’t quite believe that the ordeal was over. They would flinch every time we opened a door to their room or gently touched them.
I did strike up a friendship with Sslama, the poor girl tied to the fake Anubis’s leash. I learned that she was actually originally from only one village over to where I grew up—before I was sold into slavery by my father. She explained that they were brought into the palace in exactly the same way. The cult had gone around intimidating slaveowners after they had gone through all of the young women in the city. She was chosen as his special pet just like I was. She said that she encouraged me to just accept my fate because she knew what was going to happen to me if I didn’t—it happened to her, after all. She only has some whip marks on her back and, of course, the brand that she will never be able to wipe away.
It’s horrifying to think that she had to go through the fate that I was destined for. But she seems to take it in stride. She explained to me that, although she was forced to do some horrible things, most of the girls had had it much worse. The fake Anubis apparently did not want to damage his ‘special pets.’ She wasn’t subjected to much physical torture after her first ordeal. The mental scars obviously remain, though, but she has done an amazing job of talking to the other girls. She truly understands what they have experienced in the last month, so it’s easier for her to get through to them and convince them that it is truly all over.
Well, this part of the ordeal is over. It’s impossible to say what is going to happen next. A literal god has appeared out of nowhere. It seems pretty clear that the cult angered him with all the atrocities they were committing in his name. Funnily enough, I always had the vision of Anubis as a particularly mean and evil god. He is the lord of the underworld, after all; he feeds on death. But it seemed like he was horrified by the things that the cult was doing. You could see the rage and condemnation in his eyes as he struck down the leader. It was hard to watch when he so brutally murdered the fake Anubis, but I can’t say that a part of me, deep down, didn’t enjoy seeing the fucker suffer. I noticed that I was a little disappointed when he killed him so quickly. I wouldn’t consider myself a violent person, but I definitely have revenge fantasies from time to time, and to see one acted out in front of me like that was—well, exhilarating.
I felt quite honored to be singled out by Lord Anubis before he left with the remaining cult members into the city. I have no idea why he chose me out of all the other girls, but I feel a need to do right by him. The work has not been easy. In addition to getting rid of all the disgusting equipment, we have had to dispose of about fifteen bodies. That’s just an estimate, though. It is difficult to tell exactly how many there were due to them being so hacked up. Anubis really did not give them any mercy whatsoever. Although picking up severed hands and cocks and dragging bloody carcasses isn’t my idea of a good time, I don’t mind doing it for a good cause. These men were as close to pure evil as I have ever come. I’m glad they’re dead, and I hope that he kills the rest of them too.
A thought I have been struggling with as I go about my duties, and especially at night when I lie in bed getting a deserved rest from the long day’s work, is how warmly I think of this new god. It is a new sensation for me to feel safe under someone’s protection. My whole life I have been in some kind of danger. Now, seeing what Lord Anubis can do, and how he chose to save me, I just feel like I can trust him. It’s completely ridiculous, though. He is a god; I am a mere human. I know better than to put my trust in anyone, let alone someone who could crush me with one hand. My feelings are a little confusing to me, though; I can’t escape it.
I have always believed in the gods, of course. However, I wouldn’t say that I have been especially devout. I have never felt any personal connection to a single god before except for maybe Ra, just because of my mother’s amulet. I remember my brother being obsessed with Horus. One of the few things I remember about my brother is how he would not shut up about Horus, but I never understood why he was so fascinated with the bird man. To be honest, I still don’t completely understand it since he never met the god in the flesh. Lord Anubis saved me from a hellish life of sexual slavery. I don’t know what Horus did for my brother.
As I lie here in the dark, thinking about these things, I get a little sad. I don’t often think about my brother. He is someone I have blocked out of my mind, just like my father. These are the two men who I have known and trusted, and both of them completely fucked me over.
I never knew my mother, and my dad raised both me and my brother. We were poor farmers living on a small piece of land along the barren banks of the river Iteru. I remember, specifically, that there was barely anyone around ever. It was about five miles to the closest little village, and that was a village of only about fifteen people. It was truly an isolated, but peaceful, existence. My father did care about our education, though. He taught us to read and write and many other skills that were generally saved for more noble people. I think my father used to be a teacher for a noble family, but he lost favor at some point and was forced to become a farmer. I’m not completely sure about this memory, though. I was so young.
My father also taught me and my brother, who was five years older than me, how to plow the land, milk the goats, and bring in the harvest. I remember him as a strict man, but not unkind. That’s why I have often struggled to come to terms with what happened after my eighth birthday.
That year, we were awaiting the Iteru flood just like every other year, but my father noticed early on that the water level was much higher than usual. Our crops relied on the flooding of the great river, and our farm was strategically placed by its bank to maximize the growth of our crops. That year, though, the flooding would not stop. The river bulged and bulged until our modest cabin was left uninhabitable by the flooding. The year’s crop was also left submerged and, therefore, ruined. We were forced to abandon our farm then and there. We packed up everything we had, which wasn’t much, and headed to the nearby village.
The disaster came at the worst possible time. It was impossible to set up a new farm since the flooding had already started. We were left in dire straits with nothing to eat or drink in the increasingly hot weather.
My memory of the time is a little hazy, as I was so young, but I distinctly remember my father telling both my brother and me to wait by our little cart while he went into a little hut in the village to discuss a job opportunity with someone. My brother and I thought nothing of it because my father had done this multiple times in the week or two since we had been stranded. Only a few minutes later, we were snatched up by two large soldiers donning the pharaoh’s insignia on their golden armor.
I was so confused at the time that I didn’t even have the foresight to resist them. I went along with them as my brother thrashed in their arms and beat on their chests, trying to get past them after our father. The whole moment went by in such a flash. The next thing I knew we were working as slaves on a farm miles away from where we grew up. I don’t remember if my father said anything to me or even looked at me before he sold us, but if he did, it would not matter. There are no words or looks to justify something like that.
My brother took it harder than I did. Looking back now, I think I was in shock for a long time. I remember thinking that any day now my father was going to turn up and take me back to our little house on the river, but he never did.
It’s not like we were treated badly in our new home. We were given two meals a day, and we had beds of our own in the barn with the other slaves. We did our work and then even had some free time in the evening. The life, if anything, was just supremely boring. It wasn’t really necessary to punish slaves because there wasn’t really anywhere to escape to. If we didn’t work, we weren’t fed, and we would starve. It was pretty simple.
My brother, though, he couldn’t handle it. He was the only thing I had left, but he started to grow distant. I slowly came to accept my father’s betrayal. It took years, but I got there and accepted that in this life you can only trust yourself. I did love my brother, though, and hoped that maybe someday we could earn our freedom together. That was not to be, though. When I was about ten or eleven and he was fifteen or sixteen, he escaped the farm. I don’t know where he went or what became of him. I have to assume that he’s dead by now. Like my father, he left me without a word or even a look.
Ever since those days, I have learned to not trust anyone, especially men. If my own blood would abandon me, then what good could a friendship or, Ra forbid, a marriage be? I have never known a man who gave a damn about a woman. In fact, most of the men I have met in my life seem to actively hate women. They just want us for one thing, and it’s disgusting. Thankfully, now I’m not in the service of a man—but a god.
* * *
I wakeup the next morning bright and early, most of the bitterness from last night’s musings evaporated from my heart. Before I can even get to work, I hear the rumor that Lord Anubis has returned during the night, alone. I feel my heart stop for a millisecond when I hear the news. He is somewhere in the palace at this very moment.
I feel butterflies in my stomach. It’s not just nerves, though; it’s excitement. I’m not sure if it’s just the thought of having an actual god in our vicinity or something else. I do feel like I had a little bit of a personal connection with him. He chose me to lead the girls, after all, and he touched me in that gentle way after saving me. I’m not stupid enough to think that he saved me because I’m me; I know that he saved lots of other girls. He just hated what was happening in general. But the way he touched me and singled me out made me feel quite special. It’s not every day that a god gives you that kind of attention. I find myself going toward my duties of the day with a peculiar new zest. What exactly is happening here?
Day turns to night, and Ra puts out the sun. I have not seen Lord Anubis all day, and I start to wonder whether he has actually returned or not. I notice that I feel a little disappointed. I don’t exactly know what I was expecting. I can hardly imagine past just seeing his massive black frame and noble countenance again. Maybe it’s not so abnormal to feel this way for someone who has rescued you. I just feel overwhelmed by emotions of different kinds right now and can’t really figure out what to do with them.
I’m outside taking down some of the washed bedlinens from the rope in the courtyard. It’s already quite late, and I plan to go to bed after this. The palace is already looking immaculate, and I’m quite proud of that. Everyone has worked really hard, and most of the girls are already feeling a little better. I put the last few sheets in the basket and tuck it under my arm as I re-enter the palace. I decide to take a quick look into every room on my way to make sure that everything is looking good for Lord Anubis’s return. I have decided that the rumor I heard in the morning must have been incorrect.
I walk through the corridors, peaking my head into each adjacent room. I quietly open the large doors to the main chamber, the one privy to so many unspeakable horrors of the past, and, to my shock, I see Lord Anubis sitting in the throne at the end of the chamber. His shining green eyes look straight up at me, and I feel my heart stop.
“I’m sorry, my Lord, I didn’t mea—”
“Zanika, right?” he asks, his voice soft and booming at the same time.
“Yes, my Lord,” I say, ceasing my nervous retreat out the door.
“Come here. I have some questions for you.”
I automatically obey Lord Anubis’s order and feel my heart pounding in my chest as I make the long walk over to him, his eyes studying me up and down. I’m suddenly aware of how revealing my dress is, but it’s too late to change now. When I reach him, I fall to my knees in front of him.
“There’s no need for that. Stand up. I just wish to talk to you.”
I am finding it difficult to speak. All of a sudden, my mouth is super dry, and the words just aren’t coming out my throat. If I lifted my hand up in front of me, it would be shaking like an earthquake. Finally, after a much-too-long pause, I manage to say, “Very well, my Lord. How can I serve you?”
