The sun sparkled, brighter and hotter. The air around them was thick and humid. Slick with sweat and withered with fatigue, they stood under the shade of palm grove.
Beside it was a well, from which Ashwatthama drew water for the rest of his companions.
"We...are running around in circles." Reminded the old warrior, as he quickly gulped down the cool liquid.
Perseus leaned against the palm tree, wiping the sweat off his brow. A long hard sigh escaped his lips, he had no idea where or how to begin.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Asked Pyrrhus, looking at each of them with eager eyes.
"The person who wrote this riddle in Sumerian." Reminded Vatsala.
"How do we find him?" Asked Danaë.
"I think we should ask people around." Sighed Andromeda. Taking the book from Vatsala she walked over to a street musician who sat leaning again the wall.
In front of him was a bowl kept to throw in a coin or two for his performance.
She bent down to him and asked, "Does anyone read Sumerian here?"
"I do know a little." He replied.
Andromeda held the book towards him asking, "Can you....help?"
Keeping his instrument aside, he took the book from her hand. By then, the rest of the group arrived and stood before the musician.
"This script is too ancient..." He muttered, but continued to take a look at the words and said, "Abgal..."
𒉣𒈨
"What does that mean?" Asked Vatsala.
"Sage- Apkallu in Akkadian." He replied. "Look for this person, he's the one you seek."
Perseus bent closer to the man saying, "There are four recurrent symbols, can you interpret them?"
The man peered at the four symbols and said, "That's air, water, fire and earth."
"Are these symbols...used anywhere else?" Whispered Perseus.
"Go to the library, you might find your answers there. Straight and take the second left into the alley."
"Thank you." He replied and walked ahead without waiting for the rest of the group.
"Wait!" Exclaimed Ashwatthama, running behind him. "We don't know the language, how are we going to figure out anything?"
"Whether we comprehend it or not, there's no guarantee that we'll find the writer of that riddle." Replied Perseus as he stopped his stride and turned towards the group. "We don't know if Abgal is alive or dead. We've come here without a plan and without knowing what exactly we're looking for. Either we do this ourselves or just give up and go back home."
Without another word, they followed him silently. They soon found themselves in front of a large wooden door.
Promptly pushing it open they were now in a dark hall, which was lit by dim lamps. It was dark, with the only source of light from an open circular panel to the opposite end of the large hall.
Surrounding them were thousands if not millions of clay tablets, neatly stacked in wooden shelves from ground to ceiling.
"Wow...." Gasped Vatsala in delight as she looked around.
YOU ARE READING
Karna's Secret (On hold)
Historical FictionLost in pain, guilt and endless suffering was a child who feld for his life from the war torn Aryavart. He had nothing more with him, his memories failed him and yet he was taken in and given the name Perseus. He grew up, became Greece's most belo...
