The Warriors from Mesopotamia: The Gripping Adventure of the Brave Sumerians

By Hamada Al-iraqi

This is the story of an army commander who was set up by his king and sent to prison only to meet the rightful king, who taught him valuable life lessons and set his mind free. Both the army commander and the rightful king escaped Marred's deadly fist and reclaimed the kingdom of Ur. They set out on a quest to fight giants and beasts to bring peace to the entire land of Mesopotamia and end disputes between the kingdoms once and for all, bringing invaluable information from an isolated island inhabited by the brutal Pazuzu.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350959222

Hamada Al-iraqi

Hamada Aliraqi was born in January 1989 and raised in Iraq. His real name is Mohammed, but everyone calls him Hamada. He graduated from high school in 2007 but didn't attend university due to security issues in Baghdad. Instead, he spent his time at home playing video games with his friends. In 2011, he studied at the College of Languages at the University of Baghdad. He left Iraq and came to the United States three years later in 2014. Then, he decided to write a book.

Book preview

The Beginning

The scribe lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. What am I going to do with my life?

Eventually, he got out of bed and headed to the school to ask one of his friends to join him for a quick trip to the marshes. At the library, the scribe and his friend grabbed some clay tablets about the adventure of Gilgamesh and his friend Enkidu.

What are these for? the scribe’s friend asked as he helped carry the tablets out of the library.

I’m taking these clay tablets to a friend in Lagash.

Well, then, why are we headed to the market?

I have a friend there who says he has a job for me, said the scribe. I need to speak with him before we can go to Lagash. After that, we can spend a few days at the marshes.

The scribe and his friend entered the market and made their way to a big shop for engravings. The owner was a young man with a light mustache and a thick goatee. He wore a scarf over his bald head. A few rings decorated his hairy fingers.

The scribe waved to him. Good morning, friend.

Good morning! Finally, you are here. An old man came here the other day asking for a scribe, and that is why I sent for you. He is very wealthy. He told me he has a long story that he would like written down and then engraved onto clay tablets. You will meet him at the walls of Ur one week from now. Good luck.

Thank you, said the scribe.

The scribe at the reed house

After leaving the engravings shop, the scribe and his friend headed to the city of Lagash, where they delivered the clay tablets from the library. Then they made their way to the marshes, where they stayed in a reed house for several days.

The house was in the middle of the water, and at night, the silence was extremely peaceful. The scribe gazed at the canoe, the clean water, and the gorgeous sky. But his mind was drawn elsewhere. I wonder what this old man’s story is? He would have to wait until tomorrow to find out.

When he returned from the marshes, he went directly to the walls of Ur, as he was excited to meet the wealthy old man.

There he was, sitting on a rock, waiting. When the scribe got closer, the old man told him to look at the engraving on the wall next to him. He said that a man named Messan had left it there.

Son, the old man began, behind this great civilization were great men who sacrificed everything to give us this luxurious life. I am about to tell you a true story, and I need you to write it down and then give the papers to your friend so that he can engrave it. I want this story to be told forever.

None of this made sense to the scribe, but the old man—whose name was Utukaal—was wealthy, and the scribe needed the gold. So he agreed to write down the man’s story.

The strangest thing about the story was Utukaal’s philosophy of war: If you try to wipe out an entire land, the gods will destroy you. And if you attack an army, you will need to prepare for a big fight. If you win the war, people will come back seeking vengeance.

Those who seek wars are usually small-minded people who are trying to prove their dominance, Utukaal said.

The scribe and Utukaal walked for quite some time. They came upon a few men who were preparing to go into the desert.

Who are those men? the scribe asked.

They are leaving this world and going to a different realm through a stargate.

The scribe shook his head in confusion. Wha—

When we come back to Mesopotamia, we shall find prosperity just as we left it. If not we shall build it again, said one of the strange men.

The scribe’s jaw hung open. He watched the men disappear from sight.

He and Utukaal agreed to meet again later in the week to begin writing the story.

Lugal-Zagesi’s speech

The scribe left then and went to join the crowds at Ur Ziggurat to listen to King Lugal-Zagesi’s .

After the speech, King Lugal-Zagesi escorted a Persian delegate outside the city of Ur, and they both headed to Uruk, where King Lugal-Zagesi lived in his grand castle.

The scribe overheard the Persian saying, It is wonderful that both the Sumerians and the Persians are at peace.

I think our great army, especially the private guards and our elite warriors, have ensured our land is safe. This safety gave us a chance to grow in both trades and agriculture, which has led to prosperity. There are no civil wars and no battles for gold mines. Power, my guest, is what ensures a peaceful life between our two nations, King Lugal-Zagesi said.

The scribe felt a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to turn around and see Utukaal. I thought you went home.

I did not go home. I came here to listen to the second Marred we have.

Marred was your grandfather?

Yes.

And he was an awful king?

Utukaal nodded. He was.

The scribe canted his head. But you said we have a prosperous lifestyle, correct?

Correct.

But now you are saying we have a second Marred.

Yes, unfortunately, Utukaal said. From Gilgamesh to another awful man, Lugal-Zagesi. We have a wonderful life, but the man is another tyrant. He is as bad as my grandfather, Marred.

Whatever, man, the scribe said.

The scribe left Utukaal and went home with a great happiness filling his heart and mind.

He couldn’t comprehend it all. These so-called Pazuzu that could be found in museums and other markets had never shown up here in Mesopotamia. Nor had the giants. Rather, it seemed to be a claim by an old man who enjoyed narrating a story about his father and his imaginary friends. But the scribe would be paid a good amount of gold to finish it.

The Plan

We have suffered a terrible loss of life. This is not the first time our soldiers have been sent to the village only to return on carriages. King Marred had gathered his friends and advisers to discuss his plan. We have lost eighteen good men. This cannot continue. The villagers will think we are weak and unable to defend our kingdom if we neglect to avenge these deaths.

A voice came from behind, a well-known voice belonging to Messan, commander of the king’s army. We need to go back to find out what really happened.

What will that achieve?

It may be our soldiers causing trouble.

King Marred’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

King Marred and Messan, commander of the army

Messan pushed further. We cannot go in and butcher the villagers. I overheard a couple of men from the village talking. It seems our soldiers have been harassing their young girls.

Angered by this news, King Marred vowed to find out if there was truth to the rumors. At least, that’s what he wanted Messan to believe.

Later that night, King Marred called a second meeting with his advisers, a council that Messan was not informed of. I can do nothing while he is around. We need Messan out of the way so we can destroy that village. Is that clear, my friends?

Leave it to me. I will take care of him, Kishweel said with an air of arrogance that overwhelmed the room. Kishweel was a giant of a man, with a beard to match his stature.

No. My soldiers would never agree to this, King Marred responded. If I allow Messan to be killed, the entire kingdom will be after my blood.

Kanash, an old man with many rings decorating his fingers, stepped forward. I have a better idea. Let us send him away to complete a quest. When he returns, our revenge attack will be over.

We don’t have any quests! Marred snapped. Shall I just send him away to pick apples and oranges?!

The men all started speaking over one another.

Enough! the king bellowed. Find me a good way to get rid of him.

Kanash tried again. There is no other way. We cannot just kill him. Our only choice is to send him on a quest, or frame him and put him in prison.

I may have a plan, sir, Kishweel said.

Kishweel, tell me about your plan. King Marred knew he had no other choice but to listen.

We lure him into a trap. Task him to deliver a box full of gold to someplace outside the city. Make sure his path takes him right through the valley where the bandits live. Kishweel smiled. One man cannot take on two hundred marauders and live to tell the tale. While he’s gone, we wipe out the entire village with ease.

King Marred sat on his throne, lost in his thoughts. He had to get rid of his army leader, and he had to destroy the village to gain control. He resigned himself to the fact that he must send Messan to his death.

The following day King Marred summoned Messan to the throne room. Messan saluted the king, who invited him to sit down. Obliging, Messan said, Your Majesty, you asked to see me?

Messan, I have a task for you.

Yes, Your Majesty, what do you require from me? Messan asked loyally.

King Marred pointed to a chest on a large table in front of him. Open that chest.

Messan walked over to the table and gently lifted the chest’s lid to reveal a lot of polished gold coins. Awaiting further instruction, he glanced over to where King Marred sat on his throne.

The harbormaster, Jacob. He is your friend? King Marred began.

Messan nodded.

I need you to give him this chest of gold.

Messan knew better than to question his king.

King Marred continued. This quest is not without problem, Messan. Your path will take you through the dangerous valley full of bandits. Regrettably, I have no one else I can send on this quest. There is no other man braver than you. You are the only one I trust. King Marred rose from his throne, walked over to Messan, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Looking him directly in the eye, he said, I am entrusting you with a perilous quest. I’m relying on you, my friend.

Your Majesty, I will succeed in my quest and inform you as soon as I return, Messan replied.

Thank you, Messan. You truly are our hero.

Messan returned to his chambers within the castle walls to pen a letter to his friend, informing Jacob that he would be arriving in six days.

King Marred knew how Messan operated. He had foreseen that Messan would send word to Jacob before he left. Anticipating this, Marred instructed his scribe to replace the letter with a different forged one. Because two guards were permanently stationed outside of Messan’s chambers, going in via the door was not an option. The scribe was ordered to climb through Messan’s window. He waited outside for the signal. To make sure the scribe had enough time to carry out his plan, King Marred would call Messan for one final meeting before commencing the quest.

Kanash, the old man, went to see Messan in his chamber. The two guards let him through. Have you finished writing the letter?

Yes, answered Messan. Before he could say another word, Kanash told him that Marred wanted to see him again and that Messan needed to bring the letter with him.

The room was full of advisers and Marred’s top commanders when Messan entered.

Everyone, welcome your leader! Praise him! Salute him! Marred instructed.

A salute in honor of the commander was made by everyone in the room.

Our hero, who has always been a man we can count on in times of war and dangerous quests, will do something for the sake of Ur and his king, Marred announced.

Messan read the letter in front of everyone in the room and went back to his chamber but again was summoned by King Marred. When he entered the room King Marred gave him a dagger made of gold as a gift. I forgot to hand you this.

What are you doing? Messan said sternly when he caught Kishweel shooting an arrow out of the king’s gallery window.

Trying to hit a bird. Kishweel laughed. Messan was unaware that this arrow was the signal, instructing the scribe to carry out his mission.

Keelash, the shadow guy

The scribe had just enough time to fake the letter and leave Messan’s chambers before Messan’s return. His task was complete, and everything was in its rightful place as if he’d never been there. A line of soldiers along the road ensured that the scribe would remain unseen as he left. The soldiers themselves knew nothing; they were simply following orders.

Two hours passed, during which the king and his advisers talked Messan through the plan to deliver the gold. Two days of planning then followed before Messan could start his journey. The journey would take him three days.

The day before Messan left the castle, King Marred informed him that the main purpose for the quest was to talk with the bandits and inform them of a new life—new land and peace—making them allies and giving them opportunities.

The scribe was rewarded with a bag full of gold coins. King Marred’s plan had been a complete success. Messan was ready to face his unknowing demise.

The Attack

King Marred had assembled his troops and was ready to destroy the village. Watching from his tower, he could see his army advancing. Cavalry, infantry, archers, and knights marched in formation toward the village, slaughtering anyone in their path. Avenging the soldiers they had already lost. The villagers were untrained and outnumbered. Taken by surprise, they were unable to defend themselves.

A villager came running from a distance. Seeing the horror that was unfolding, his thoughts were centered on his family. He ran as fast as his legs would allow, eventually arriving home. He pushed open the door, terrified at what he might find. His nightmares were confirmed. His entire family had been slain.

He fell to his knees, experiencing the worst pain he had ever felt, and screamed out in desperation. How could this have happened? Pain and sorrow encircled his heart and mind. A few moments passed; his tears turned to anger. Rage started burning inside him. His thoughts turned to revenge. He would end whoever had done this to his family.

Adrenaline took over, and he stood up from his position of sheer grief. He unsheathed his sword from its scabbard and brandished it in front of him. Wiping the tears from his face, he stumbled outside, coming face-to-face with a little girl who gripped the hand of an elderly man beside her.

Please, don’t kill us, the little girl pleaded.

The elderly man glanced through the open door of Kobeaad’s house. Realizing what was inside, he pulled the little girl closer to him, turning her away from the horror. He examined Kobeaad’s face and gazed at the sword, understanding what Kobeaad intended to do.

Listen, son. You are going to kill yourself. You cannot fight an entire army alone. Come with us instead.

I need to find my sisters. The guards took them, the little girl said. We were trying to run away.

Kobeaad did not listen and started to walk away. The old man grabbed his arm and pleaded with him not to go.

Let go of me, Kobeaad growled.

The girl reached out and took Kobeaad’s hand. I beg you. Please, help us. Please. Tears streamed down her face.

The little girl and elderly man looked into Kobeaad’s broken soul, imploring his help. The old man tried to reason with Kobeaad again. You cannot hunt an entire herd of oxen by yourself. Haven’t you seen the running oxen in the prairie? Would any of us confront an entire herd and throw just a spear to hunt an ox? We would be run over by their hooves before we took aim.

Kobeaad didn’t respond, but he met the old man’s gaze.

The man continued. You cannot fight those men by yourself. They will kill you. How will you avenge your family if you are dead? We will come back and fight another day when we are many and strong.

Please, we need your help, the girl begged again.

Something in the little girl’s face resonated with Kobeaad. He nodded, agreeing to help them. The old man was right. This was not the way to honor his family. He would be killed in a second.

Kobeaad prepared for his journey. The villagers had put up a good fight but were catastrophically defeated. Their homes were on fire. Children wept for their mothers and sisters, who had been ripped from their arms and dragged away by King Marred’s soldiers.

Kobeaad stopped for a moment and took in the devastation surrounding him. After what felt like an eternity, he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

You see only prosperity when a truly wise man is in control, but that imperious king is not wise, nor does he have mercy. Come, let us go now.

They mounted their horses, and Kobeaad looked back at the village as they rode off. That morning this was home. Now he had nothing left except imprinted memories of a lifeless family and a blazing village.

Messan’s Journey

Messan started his journey unaccompanied. He arrived at the harbor without any problem and located the harbormaster, his friend Jacob. Before Messan’s arrival, Jacob had received the letter that King Marred’s scribe had forged:

Dear Jacob,

This gold is the gift of land. Set sail to the other side of the sea. Use it to create a new town. More gold will follow, along with workers to help in your quest to build a homestead. These are the orders of King Marred. In return, you must send one hundred knights to accompany me back to the castle.

Messan, Commander of the King’s Army

Believing it to be written by Messan, Jacob had already made the necessary arrangements. But he was concerned. This quest was not challenging and certainly did not require the commander himself to deliver the chest of gold. However, he knew better than to question orders.

Messan prepared to head back to the castle. As he began his departure from the harbor, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of one hundred knights, armed to the hilt and mounted on horses, ready to protect him. Messan accepted the knights’ company on his journey but gave them strict instructions to return to the harbor and let him go on his way once they reached the orchards. The knights had not been told that Messan would meet with the bandits to inform them of the king’s offer. They had been instructed by Jacob only to escort the commander, providing him safe passage back to the castle.

Unbeknown to Messan, one of King Marred’s informants was, at that very moment, making his way into the realm of the bandits to inform them that an army was headed their way—another part of the merciless plan.

Before Messan and the knights arrived in the bandit’s territory, the informant had reached his destination. Suspicious, the bandits stopped him in his tracks, demanding all his possessions be handed over to them.

I have nothing. Not a weapon, nor even sandals on the soles of my feet, he gasped. I mean no ill will toward you. I have nothing to give you except knowledge of an army heading your way. They have already reached the hill. Send out one of your men if you don’t believe me.

A bandit was immediately dispatched to confirm whether the trespasser was telling the truth. He returned to report that a vast army was heading straight toward them.

In addition to Messan and the knights, King Marred had sent two groups of men through the valley. The men in the first group had been released from the castle prisons and tasked with delivering fruit, honey, fabric, and vegetables to the harbor in return for a full pardon of their crimes. They were seventy-two men strong, with a caravan of over forty horses and twenty camels to transport their wares. Unaware that they were being sent to slaughter along with Messan. The second group was sent to bring back the informant, who managed to slip away while the bandits were preparing to fight.

As Messan and the knights crossed over the hill, the criminals’ lifeless bodies lay before them. The knights’ commander and Messan exchanged concerned looks, realizing that their journey back to the castle was about to get much more problematic.

Looks like they were ambushed, the commander said to Messan. Those responsible won’t be far away. We must remain vigilant.

Messan nodded in agreement. I feel it too. They are still here.

The bandits attack Messan and his knights

Silence fell as they surveyed their surroundings, deciding on the best way to continue their journey. Messan felt uneasy.

A few more moments passed. Messan was about to open his mouth to speak when something made him look up into the sky. Arrows rained down upon them, hundreds of them. Men started to scream in pain and fall to the ground. Before they knew what was happening, bandits charged at the men from all directions. Wild with rage, they were unrelenting, advancing faster and faster without fear.

The group of men sent to collect the informant and take him back to the castle arrived in the distance and watched on as more and more of their comrades were slaughtered by savages, whose sole purpose in life was to hunt and steal. Messan fought gallantly, as did the knights. Out of the hundred, only three survived. The bandits had taken everything—horses, camels, and men. All lost.

Sir? The sound came from a bloodied face. Messan only just recognized him as the knights’ commander. What are your orders?

Messan was surprised at this man’s bravery to carry on. He felt hopeless but had to remain strong as an army commander.

Head back to the harbor and report our losses to Jacob. I am going to head back to the castle and inform the king. Go now. While we still can.

The commander nodded and headed off with the other two knights in tow.

Messan tugged his horse’s reins and headed off to the castle. He had not traveled far when he saw two young women surrounded by bandits. Bandits he had not long ago battled with. Knowing the dangers of approaching, he nocked an arrow into his bow and took aim. The arrow was released and took flight, only coming to a halt when it had ended the life of one of the bandits.

Before the bandits realized what was happening, a second arrow was released, piercing the back of another man. Messan grabbed a spear abandoned on the ground by its dead owner and launched it, hitting another bandit square in the stomach. The man flew backward. Messan drew his sword.

Two final bandits hurtled toward him. He swung and connected with the first man. Brandishing an axe, the last man lifted it above his head, poised to deliver a fatal blow. Messan pulled his dagger from its sheath around his waist, threw it, and killed the final bandit.

Triumphant relief washed over Messan. He stopped to catch his breath, remembering the two women he had come to aid. He glanced around him and spied them cowering behind a fallen tree. They were terrified. Messan was in the same attire as that of the men who attacked their villages and destroyed their homes.

Do not be scared. I am not going to hurt you, he reassured them.

After a bit of persuasion, one of the women spoke. We are trying to reach the harbor.

The harbor will be closed now. Terrible losses have been suffered by their soldiers today. Nothing good will come from going there. You may not reach the port alive, as bandits are all over this area. Come with me. I can keep you safe. Messan offered his hand.

Confused, but having no choice but to take a risk, the young women agreed.

With the two women accompanying him, Messan began again on his path back to the castle, all the time reflecting on the devastating memories of the battle and the great knights who had fought so bravely beside him.

Messan Meets the King

Messan arrived at his sister’s house and asked her to take care of the two women. His sister greeted him with an angry glare, one of disgust and loathing. Even you? Was this the quest you told us about? she snarled at him through gritted teeth.

Messan was confused. What is wrong?

We will take in the women. You must leave and never come back here again. Leave! Messan’s sister turned and ushered the women inside.

Her husband appeared at the door. Realizing the two women had come from the ransacked village, he turned and looked disappointedly at Messan. We thought you were one of the good ones, Messan. It turns out you are just like the rest of them. We will take care of these women. We are good people. You are no longer welcome here.

Perplexed, Messan stood before him. Please, tell me what you think I have done.

His brother-in-law lowered his head in sheer disappointment, gave Messan one last glance, and turned away, closing the door in Messan’s face.

Unable to comprehend what had just happened, Messan left his sister’s house and made his way to his home. His family was nowhere to be seen. He was exhausted and sorrowful for the loss of his men. He thought perhaps he should rest for a while and was just sitting down, when he heard crying and shouting from outside. He headed for the front door. Outside were four rascals pelting rocks at a young boy.

Stop. Please! Stop! the young boy cried.

Messan rushed over, pulled the crying boy away, and took him inside. Where is your family? he asked.

My father was killed. And my mom was taken away by the guards. Tired, hungry, and reeling from the loss of his family, the young boy began to sob.

I will take care of you for now, Messan reassured him. You can stay here for a bit with my wife and me. He gave the boy food and told him to eat and rest.

Messan’s wife opened the door and saw her husband with the boy. Astonished, she said, Oh no. I never expected this from you!

What are you talking about?

Forget it, I can’t bear to look at you, she replied. She turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Messan had no idea what he was being accused of.

He took the boy to a close friend’s house and explained that the boy had lost his family. He asked his friend to take the boy in for a while, assuring his friend that he would be back. His friend agreed but, like the others, didn’t seem to want to talk to Messan.

Messan was flabbergasted. He knew he needed to inform the king of his return but thought perhaps he needed some rest first. He headed home to sleep for a while.

Messan was still feeling confused by the earlier events when he woke from his rest. He put the thoughts aside. Swords and spears appeared at his neck as he stepped out of his house. Guards had surrounded him.

Do not move. You are under arrest! the tallest of the guards shouted.

I am your commander. Release me at once, Messan snarled back. But he was not released, nor was he told of his crimes. Instead, he found himself behind bars, completely baffled by the events since his return. A week later, King Marred ordered his guards to bring Messan in. It felt as though a lifetime had passed when he heard a familiar voice in the distance—a man addressing his kingdom.

The commander of my army committed treason. I sent him on a quest—he was ordered to go alone. Instead, he took one hundred knights and returned with only three. Not only did he fail but he killed my men. Your fathers, brothers, sons. I have in my hand proof—a letter written by Messan to the harbormaster. Messan has disobeyed me and betrayed us. He objected to my plan to avenge our fallen soldiers. I am a merciful king. I will not execute him. But he will remain imprisoned for the rest of his life. He will have time to reflect upon this terrible treason against us all.

Messan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. None of it was true.

The king returned to his throne room and ordered Messan to be brought before him. Messan was escorted in, his hands and feet in chains. He looked disheveled, malnourished, dirty, and a million miles away from his former army commander appearance. Silence enveloped the room.

After a time, the king spoke. Why would you do this? Why would you betray me? I sent you with your letter, made you read it to me before you left. Read it again, aloud, so everyone can hear it, King Marred commanded as he handed Messan the letter.

Messan did as he was told and read aloud the contents to the entire room. Once he had finished, King Marred started demanding answers. "Why did you recruit one hundred knights for your journey home? The letter says nothing of this. I ordered you to travel alone. Told you of