“Where?” General Hudhafah peered over the stack of reports he was processing about troop movements on the planet. Behind him hung an image of an enormous red dragon wearing an ornate, bejeweled robe.
“He and his rebels killed 53 mercenaries," Kasib said. "The Amorites said if you want them to eliminate him for you, you’re going to have to pay them a lot more than gold.”
The general's dorsal crest raised in irritation. Kasib waited as his commanding officer drummed his claws upon his desk.
"We could always torture the location out of them?" Kasib suggested. Normally the mild-mannered logistics officer would not suggest such barbary, but the Amorites had earned his ire. He pointed to an enormous satellite image with a huge red circle drawn around the general area where they suspected the rogue signal had originated from. They'd only been able to narrow it down within a few thousand square miles.
"We don't have enough boots on the ground to deal with an Angelic," Hudhafah said. "Have there been any more databursts from the planet?"
"No, Sir," Kasib said. "And no answering hail from the Alliance, either. The signal was very weak."
"Where's the nearest known Alliance ship?" Hudhafah scratched the jowels all Sata'anic males developed when they reached a certain age, his deep red dewlap demarcating him as a high-ranking male.
"Between Tango and Zulu sector, Sir," Kasib said. "The 'Light Emerging' and three Alliance destroyers. It has not changed position since he sent the hail."
"Isn't that the same ship that's been making supply runs into this sector impossible?"
"Yes, Sir." Kasib remained silent while the general brooded. "They've been monitoring all shipping activity in and out of this sector, but we're pretty sure they have no idea what we're up to."
"Shay'tan be praised!" Hudhafah tasted the air, more out of reflex than any suspicion on his part, and paused mid-taste. He tasted the air again, his gold-green eyes narrowing into vertical slits as he gave Kasib a sniff.
Kasib tucked his tail even tighter against his side, his heart racing as he prayed the general would not sniff out the evidence which must have been leaking from his every pore.
"When will the Armada arrive, Sir?" Kasib asked, hoping to distract him.
"Shay'tan's foot!" Hudhafah cursed. "The armada has to go outside the Perseus spiral arm to get to us without alerting them to our position. It's going to take months."
Kasib breathed a sigh of relief.
"The Angelic's message obviously failed." Sharp fangs protruded as Hudhafah gave him a toothy smirk.
"We suspect he did not have the resources to make a second attempt, Sir," Kasib said.
He didn't add that this same lack of resources made unrolling Sata'anic rule a long, miserable slog. Shay’tan had ordered this planet be annexed, but until the armada arrived, they had no resources to do it. The old dragon's well-known cheap streak when it came to exploratory missions always made Hudhafah grouchy.
"We could always go kill the Angelic ourselves?" Kasib suggested. Hudhafah was a measured man, but he liked nothing better than to rout out troublemakers, occasionally going sword-to-sword against a particularly worthy opponent.
"Until that armada arrives," Hudhafah sighed, "our troops are spread too thin. I would rather hire primitives to expend their lives against Alliance firepower instead of loyal Sata'anic soldiers. Did the mercenaries say what would motivate them to bring me his head?”
“The Angelic has a sword,” Kasib said. “This planet's technology is so primitive they have not yet learned to smelt metals from the soil. They want bag of sparkles for each man who goes after the winged demon, and they want one of these swords for every man who joins them.”
“A sword, hey?" Hudhafah's claws absent-mindedly caressed the sword which always sat within arm's reach of any good Sata'anic soldier. "That’s primitive technology compared to a pulse rifle, but in the right hands, arming these idiots with swords could prove to be less than wise."
"Sir?" Kasib scratched the scales behind his ear-hole.
"There’s a reason Shay’tan gives every Sata’an soldier a sword," Hudhafah said thoughtfully. "The Eternal Emperor’s Cherubim High Guard are armed with swords, as well. If the primitives learn to use them, it could cause us problems down the line. What do these Amorite mercenaries use right now?”
“They had spears,” Kasib said. "We showed them how to use bows and arrows.”
“Why didn’t that settle it?”
“The Angelic showed the insurgents how to make their own bows and arrows. The Amorites said…" He hesitated to say this next bit of intelligence lest the general laugh at him.
"What?"
"They said the winged demon has been training females to act as archers, Sir!”
“Females?” Hudhafah burst out laughing. "What do their husbands think of such lunacy?"
Sata'an females were tender creatures, meant to be sheltered in harems overseen by a powerful husband. If Shay'tan found you worthy enough to reproduce, you were gifted a wife … or three. If not … you got sent to backwater planets such as this to get chewed up and spit out at the wrong end of an Alliance pulse rifle. Hudhafah grew thoughtful and silent.
“Hybrid females fight every bit as hard as the males do." Hudhafah leaned back in his chair and pinched his jaw between his thumb and forefinger. "It should not surprise us that the root stock Hashem used to splice together their DNA might also produce females capable of becoming warriors.”
“So what should we give the Amorites to kill this Angelic?”
“Until reinforcements arrive," Hudhafah said, "all human males are potential threats to our mission. The more this Angelic kills, the more females we wiil have to reward those who are loyal to the Empire once the armada arrives."
Loyal human males? Or any male at all? Kasib's tail stiffened from the effort of keeping his emotions in check until it developed a spasm, shouting his guilt!
"You wish to authorize a bag of gold apiece, Sir?" Kasib directed the conversation into a less treasonous topic. "The services the Amorites have provided so far have been sub-standard."
"Gold is cheap." Hudhafah waved his hand at a shelf full of medals for valor and trophies for competitions in combat, all made of solid gold. "Tell them swords are rare and impossible to come by, but each one will be given three bags of gold coins … one now … two more when they bring me this Angelic troublemaker dead or alive."
Hudhafah reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out an old steel knife he always kept there in case of mutiny. It was a simple, utilitarian blade with a bit of rust near the butt end where Hudhafah hadn't bothere buffing it out, but to someone from a stone-age culture, its cutting properties would appear magical.
"And give this to their leader as a token of good faith,” Hudhafah said. "Tell him it contains powerful sorcery to help the wielder kill the Angelic."
Kasib bowed, awed by his commanding officer's brilliance. One knife in inexperienced hands would cause few problems.
“Yes, Sir,” Kasib saluted. “I'll get on it right away.”
Chapter 9
Late-September - 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Ninsianna
Ninsianna snuggled closer to her husband's torso, resisting the dawn. The sheer, lush pleasure of waking up each morning ensconced in his downy wings tempted her to spend the day luxuriating in their feathery warmth. She tugged the topmost limb up over her eyes like a child hiding beneath the covers to scare away the lulu-khorkhore, the boogey-man who devours naughty children, to block out the brightening sky.
"They're not blankets, you know?" There was amusement in his voice, but he suppressed it, always cautious to guard his emotions.
She opened her eyes and stared into his unearthly blue ones, a rarity amongst the brown-eyed Ubaid. Each morning her first thought upon awakening was how breathtaking he was, her beautiful winged husband who had fallen from the sky. One large hand caressed the swelling of her abdomen, but his spirit-ligh
t was marred by splotches of grey.
Mikhail leaned in for a kiss. “You dreamed again."
It was a statement, not a question. The muscle in his right cheek twitched. He was worried.
"I always dream," Ninsianna lied. "It must have been many hours ago because I awake now refreshed."
"You called my name."
There was no hiding the truth from those sharp blue eyes.
"You're my husband," she reassured him. "Who else would I call to chase away the lulu-khorkore [boogey-man]?"
She placed her hand over the deep scar that marred his chest, the place where wreckage from his ship had pierced his ribcage, and focused the power which grew stronger each day to send calming emotions into his heart. Whenever she did that, whatever worries caused a rift between them seemed to evaporate, as though he needed to feel that physical reassurance, correcting some inter-species miscommunication which had not been overcome simply by learning her language.
As she focused her gift, the worry line on his brow waged battle against his happiness that soon they would have a child. She focused on that happiness, that thought, and used her gift to expand upon it and whisper into his mind, 'don't worry … everything will be fine.'
"He came for you again, didn't he?" he said, his worries undeterred. It seemed some days he could pick up on her worries as much as she could pick up on his, even though he had the psychic sensitivity of a rock.
Ninsianna shivered. "Why … are you jealous?"
From the way he pulled her tighter, he wasn't fooled by her dismissive attitude.
"It was just a dream," Ninsianna lied. "Nothing more. It did not have the feel of prophecy."
How could she tell him that, each night when the goddess sent her a vision of the white-winged Angelic who would come for her, he was not there? How could she tell him what she foresaw the Evil One would do to their child? How could she tell him that, each night as she fought the Evil One in her vision and called Mikhail's name, it felt as though he no longer even existed?
How could she tell him the goddess showed their love was doomed?
She did not want to think about such things! Why would She-who-is give her these visions if there was nothing she could do to change them? Mikhail was the goddesses Champion. She-who-is only sent the dream to warn her not to waylay him from his mission!
"I worry when you cry out at night." The powerful hand splayed across her womb trembled. "If anything were to happen to you…"
"It won't," she snapped. "It was just a dream!"
It wasn't just a dream, but she had made a bargain the night she had pleaded with She-who-is for an alternative to forced marriage to Jamin. She must learn to control her power and get him to train her people so they would not stand against the Evil One alone. Ignoring their dark future would only get her people killed.
His hand had moved up to caress her upset tummy, those piercing blue eyes never leaving hers, watching to make sure she did not fib. "How do you feel this morning, Mo ghrá?”
She glanced over at the urn she kept next to the bed, praying she wouldn't end up on her hands and knees heaving nothing out of an empty stomach. She'd seen him single-handedly smite eighteen attackers or lead their tribe against an overwhelming force, but every time the morning sickness hit, you'd think he was a worried mother hen instead of an eagle who soared the skies!
“As long as I take it slow," she forced a smile, "I am fine.”
His raised eyebrow indicated he found fault with her assertions. It aroused Ninsianna's ire. She did not wish to discuss all the things she shouldn't do with her overprotective husband! Who was he to tell her what she should and should not do?
Ninsianna knew just how to handle him…
She slid her hand down his abdomen, relishing the way his flesh quivered over rock hard muscles. Ah! There! That was the proper way to distract an Angelic from his fretting. With a predatory grin, she caressed his manhood and projected prurient thoughts into his mind until he groaned for mercy. Just because she could not see into his mind the way she could the others did not mean she could not toy with him!
She formed a picture in her mind of how good it had felt the last time he had made love to her, how she imagined she had looked with her lips parted and back arched as she'd screamed his name, and pushed the image into his mind.
"You are a cruel woman to tease me thus!" He nuzzled her neck and inhaled, as though her scent brought him pleasure, and nipped the place where her pulse quickened at his ministrations.
"Tease?" Ninsianna gave him a coy look. "Why would I wish for you to linger in our marital bed when the dawn heralds another day of training?"
A shadow crossed his beautiful, chiseled features. Never had she met a more reluctant leader! It was small wonder the goddess had chosen her to make him do what he would otherwise refuse. She knew just the remedy for his lack of ambition!
Ninsianna focused warmth into his spirit light until his murky grey worries began to clear. Mikhail thought she caressed him because it brought him pleasure, but it brought her pleasure, as well. She could see what her ministrations did to his spirit-light and she enjoyed making it turn different colors. Her hand brushed his temple to wipe the worries from his mind.
Make love to me, my husband…
She whispered the thought directly into his mind. Her lips curved up in a victorious smile as his manhood twitched and grew harder. All it took was one touch to turn the reticent Angelic into an eager, hungry mass of trembling clay. She wielded that weapon until he begged for mercy.
"You have turned me into an insatiable beast, Mo ghrá!" Mikhail growled in surrender. "Are you certain you feel okay?” The hand splayed protectively across her abdomen indicated the cause of his hesitation.
“We are married.” She tugged him towards her. “It's tribal law that we have to do this at least three times per day or we shall be evicted from the tribe. Especially when you are expecting a child!”
“I have never heard the Chief mention that law.” A heart-melting smile lit up his face as he tugged the wing she had been sleeping on out from underneath her body and arranged himself in anticipation of making love, his earlier worries forgotten. “Should I ask him about it?”
He would ask the Chief no such thing! Her husband was the most private man she had ever met, learning the unspoken rules of humanity by keeping his eyes open and his mouth shut.
Her goddess-kissed eyes noted the way his spirit light wove around her, as though he never wished to let her go.
“Kiss me!” She tugged his manhood towards her waiting mysteries. “And try not to thump your wings against the wall. I don't want my parents to hear.”
With a fit of giggles, Ninsianna welcomed the dawn.
Chapter 10
September 3,390 BC
Mesopotamian Desert
Jamin
The son of the village chief paused as he reached the crest of the hill, thankful he had listened to his intuition about where the tents of the Halifian tribe would be pitched instead of the reports of the Kemet traders. This late in the season, the arid plain which sat between the two great rivers grew harsh from lack of water, expunging the nomads who survived by herding flocks of goats and sheep. His enemies…
Funny. Staring down at their pathetic tents, little more than goat-hides strung across poles too short to stand up in anyplace except the center, he had a hard time summoning the hatred he knew he should feel towards these people. Once upon a time he had felt that way, but ever since the winged demon had taken up residence in his village, the Halifian threat didn't seem all that pressing. A pair of dark-winged eagles circled above him, no doubt searching for an easy meal.
"If my father knew I consorted with our enemies," he said to the eagles that he could not help but feel were spying on him, "the tribunal would evict me for sure."
The muscle beneath his cheek twitched in tempo to the constant anger which boiled through his veins. He was here to seek information about the real threat his own people were
too stupid to see. These people knew Mikhail's people for what they were … slave owners … the ones paying gold for kidnapped Ubaid women. With his father as bespelled as his former fiancé, it was up to him to prove what the Angelic was really up to before it was too late.
He shifted the weighty pottery which sat strapped between his shoulder-blades in a pouch he had, much to his chagrin, adopted from his enemy. Knapsack, the winged demon called this contraption. The Assurians twittered over the technology he bestowed upon their village as an afterthought, clever things that pleased the simple-minded fools but never gave them any real advantage … like the firestick he'd used to shoot lightning at him while his ship had smoldered. Jamin wasn't fooled! The night he had tried to rescue Ninsianna, he had looked into the winged creatures eyes and seen something so dark and powerful it had instilled him with a sense of horror.
The Halifian's finally spotted him. He was no stranger to these people, but neither was he welcome. They tolerated him because he brought information about their mutual enemy.
With a whistle and a shout, the people of the desert herded their families into the fragile tents, little protection against an atlatl or spear. Men lined up behind their shaykh, aiming the newer technology given to them by the Amorite slavers. Amorites were the next link in the supply chain that funneled his women to Mikhail's people, the middlemen Jamin sought an introduction to for real this time. He waited until Marwan stepped to the front of the group of related tribe members, the unaffiliated raiders long gone from their midst, and moved towards him to parley.
Jamin slowly lowered the ceramic urn to the ground and stepped back, far enough to show he could not rush to pull out a hidden weapon. It was a dangerous dance he played, consorting with the desert cobra, but one he had learned via necessity, steps his father, the Chief, had never understood.
Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 10
