Blackbird

Chapter 12: All for Love

Patrick knew he had no choice but to accept the fact that he was now in a different world altogether and he had to learn how to blend in. Deep in his heart he was relieved that he wasn't in his original time and place anymore- nobody really liked him there and everyone was out for his neck. This place looked promising- he could spend the rest of his life there in peace- he began to zone out.

"Here ... try this!", said Layha offering him a long white robe.

"Eh.. So this it what men wear out here?", he asked.

"Yes, it is a very luxurious gown here- every nobleman wears one of this plus it will hide that strange leg gown you are wearing.", she replied with a smile.

"These are called pants!", Patrick replied and snatched the gown from her hands and put it on.

Layha was amused and smiled as Patrick put on the white gown which stretched upto his feet. It was strangely comfortable, light and silky.

"You look good - now follow me!", said Layha.

Patrick followed her down the shack and into the streets. The place was getting crowded as people gathered to watch the parade of the royal guards. Layha quickly led him through the crowd and found him a good spot to watch the parade. Patrick was stupefied at what he saw.

The seven feet tall- well built guards stood in all corners protecting the palanquin of the royal one. The old man stepped out from the palanquin and placed his foot on a small decorated stool- he could barely stand and his eyes barely opened. He looked so old and fragile and had a stooped back.He had no hair on his head and even his scalp was wrinkled. He supported himself with an wooden stick.

"Here ye!"- said the old man in a trembling voice, " tis the time of the year again- the call for sacred duty of the chosen ones- rejoice for you shall have the supreme honour of serving the God Kings of our land!!", he said.

The crowd cheered upon hearing the announcement. Some people even cried in excitement.

"Who's that?", asked Patrick pointing at the old man.

Suddenly the door opened and a little kid wearing some sort of middle eastern clothing with a tiny hat on his head stepped in with a pot of water in his hands. He saw Patrick and drew a sharp breath as if saw a ghost and dropped the pot on the floor and ran outside screaming.

"Hey kid wait…ah!", said Patrick trying to stop him.

But the little boy ran out as fast as he could. Patrick tried to stand but he felt dizzy, so he sat back on the bed. A minute later a woman entered through the door along with the boy- her face covered under a veil. Patrick could only see her eyes as she was wearing a black gown which covered her entire body from head to toe.

"Selam!", she said to Patrick and asked him if he's feeling better now in her native tongue.

Patrick could only make out the word "Selam" which he knew was a greeting in Turkish- he had often heard the word in the camp, but he couldn't understand the rest.

"Selam...", he replied, "can you tell me how I got here?"

The little boy who stood by the door gighled in amusement. Apparantly Patrick's language sounded funny to him.

The lady politely went up to him and checked his bandages. She then said that he's healing quickly. Patrick didn't understand a word and simply looked at her.

"Um...can you understand me? Can you tell me how I got here?", asked Patrick again , this time slower but the lady simply looked at her and told him to rest for a while.

"Damn! where am I ? ", said Patrick in frustration.

The lady then said something and walked out of the door with the kid. Patrick surmised that she was simply asking him to rest. But how could he rest? After all Hans had almost tried to kill him. And the doorway?The myth of Anki?

"Wait! Did it work? Did the gateway actually brought me here? , thought Patrick as he began to remember that dreadful night.

He immediately got up and opened the door to take a look outside. What he saw left him awestruck.

He was in some kind of a village in the middle east- there were clay huts everywhere and people were busy going about their daily lives. He was in a barn that was constructed a few feet from the ground with bamboo and hay. From this elevated position he could see the entire village. Some men wore white gowns and were mostly busy herding camels and goats, some men were busy making tools and pottery. The elderly women wore beautiful gowns with their faces veiled and they too were busy carrying clay pots of water and attending to little kids. There were palm trees everywhere and even little bushes of exotic flowers in some places.

He guessed as if someone had taken care of him while he was unconscious and brought him here in this barn. He thought he must be in some kind of tribal village. But how did he reach there? He tried to recall his past events and remembered Rocko beating him black and blue until he lost his consciousness. But what happened after that?

"God … my head hurts… ah!", groaned Patrick.

Suddenly the door opened and a little kid wearing some sort of middle eastern clothing with a tiny hat on his head stepped in with a pot of water in his hands. He saw Patrick and drew a sharp breath as if saw a ghost and dropped the pot on the floor and ran outside screaming.

"Hey kid wait…ah!", said Patrick trying to stop him.

But the little boy ran out as fast as he could. Patrick tried to stand but he felt dizzy, so he sat back on the bed. A minute later a woman entered through the door along with the boy- her face covered under a veil. Patrick could only see her eyes as she was wearing a black gown which covered her entire body from head to toe.

"Selam!", she said to Patrick and asked him if he's feeling better now in her native tongue.

Patrick could only make out the word "Selam" which he knew was a greeting in Turkish- he had often heard the word in the camp, but he couldn't understand the rest.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the text. He hadn't seen anything quite like it. It was not ancient Hebrew or Turkish. Strange letters like those of Celtic runes written by hand on a papyrus adorned the entire piece which might have looked quite appealing before.

"Must be Akkadian or Sumerian!",thought Patrick as he typed in his login credentials into the laptop.

He had a secret server where he kept his entire journals about discoveries and findings. Pictures taken of old books and maps and even his dad's diaries were perfectly scanned and stored in it. This was his secret- his ultimate store of knowledge. He scrolled through the pictures one by one and looked into his dad's journals trying to match the writings. The script looked familiar but he couldn't remember where he had last seen it. He scrolled through many folders on the laptop until he found the one titled -

"An account of the ancient mesopotamian history and literature"

This was one of his dad's forgotten journal that he had painstakingly scanned and uploaded into his private server. He opened the scanned images one by one and read through the contents-

"The ancient land of Mesopotamia or modern day Iraq has been home to many mysterious civilizations dating back far more than modern academia currently suggests..."

- read Patrick curiously, he never had time to read these journals and he never imagined these would ever come in handy.He continued reading -

"Modern day mainstream scholars often do not bother to dig any further than the Akkadian or Sumerian cultures which existed around 4000 BCE and they are hardly to blame for there doesn't exist much evidence of such a pre historical civilization. Except for a few clay tablets and sculptures of the dieties worshipped by those people. I am talking about the Annunakis here - the dieties who were worshipped by the ancient people..

..."

- Patrick was intrigued when he read the word "Annunaki" and so he kept reading.

"The Epic Of Gilgamesh- an old poem belonging to that era mentions about these ancient people and their dieties..."

"Annunakis were Gods of the first civilization of the earth- this is what I've come to believe after my extensive research works. They helped to shape humanity's future- by teaching them about agriculture and crops, pottery and weapons, literature also seems to have propagated during that era as many cuneiform or clay tablets with curious writings have been discovered today- of course they are in a pretty bad shape but we can make out the important details necessary…Their accounts were recorded in the form of clay tablets and were held sacred by the later civilizations.People sang songs and wrote poems about these ancient beings but the records were lost in time. I believe that some ancient historians even knew the true language of these Gods and must have recorded in their cuneiform tablets…"

Patrick kept on reading and matching the samples of the scans with his papyrus. An hour later after an intense study he found out that the papyrus was not of that age and time but was merely an inspired work refering to the old ages- it was probably written during the middle ages by some unknown historian but it wasn't in any known language new or old! He reopened the scans again and continued reading-

"I call it 'the language of the Gods' because it cannot be spoken by any mere mortal- it can however be written down and understood or translated but can never be spoken in any human tongue…I have been fortunate enough to come by a peculiar looking tablet that was written in the same obscure language and have started to translate it… "