Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga)

by Anna Erishkigal

  He then completed the circle check he'd been thinking of earlier when he'd worried whether Lucifer could peek into his thoughts and fired up the engines. Those men had been as good as dead the moment Shay'tan had realized Ba'al Zebub had been double-crossing him all these years and they hadn't reported it. Eligor had simply spared them the trauma of dying whatever horrific death Lucifer had cooked up for the rest of their shipmates. He was a murderer. But unlike Lucifer's two other goons, at least he was a merciful killer, a mercenary who struck quick to make sure it was just a moment of pain.

  Lucifer boarded the shuttle, his white feathers almost totally fleshed out now as if the Emperor had never burned him alive, and settled into his seat, offering Ba'al Zebub and his two most trusted cohorts a shot of the potent green Mantoid liquor which was his poison of choice. As soon as they cleared the doomed Sata'anic flagship, Lucifer's silver eyes met Eligor's. Cold. Malevolent. Evil.

  "You're a loyal servant, Eligor," the evil twin Lucifer gave him a predatory grin. His silver eyes flashed like the glint of polished lead. "When this all falls into place, you will be the first I reward with a seat of power at my side."

  'Hit the throttle. Make sure I don't crack up the ship and get us all killed. Seat of power? Yes, power. I like power. Steer the shuttle back to the Prince of Tyre so we can get the hell out of here before Shay'tan blows these idiots to smithereens. Check that maintenance light. Might need to change the oil when we get back.'

  "That would be nice, Sir," Eligor said aloud.

  Chapter 84

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.10 AE

  Sata'an Empire: Hades-6

  Emperor Shay'tan

  Shay'tan

  The ground shook as he moved, no longer the portly emperor his subjects had grown accustomed to seeing since the last time he had lost his temper, but a true dragon, a Grigori, last of a species of guardians sent to protect She-who-is. Dragons were not benevolent guardians like the Cherubim were, but destroyers, because sometimes things got so bad the only way to fix it was to raze everything to the ground and start from scratch.

  Grigori were blunt instruments, creatures whose talent was not to build as Shay'tan had been dabbling with the last 150,000 years, a boon granted to him by She-who-is to keep him amused, but to destroy, a lesser instrument employed before things got so desperate that the Dark Lord, himself, needed to intervene.

  If that happened, they were all screwed…

  Shay'tan breathed inwards, forcing calm. They were not to that point … yet. Millennia of learning to care about the subjects he ruled had tempered his hunger to draw upon the power of primordial chaos, a restraint the Dark Lord himself had yet to master. But then again, He-who's-not was primordial chaos, while Shay'tan had simply evolved to dabble with it.

  "Your Eminence," General Musab bowed. Even his fiercest general trembled in front of the enormous fire-breathing dragon, though to his credit, the lizard stood firm. "The SRN Chinosia just intercepted an encrypted signal. An Alliance shuttlecraft is on its way from the Prince of Tyre into the debris field of the shattered planet."

  Shay'tan jerked his head around, a puff of smoke seething out of his nostrils.

  "Have you verified the signal was from the SRN Tsalmaveth?" Shay'tan growled. As he spoke, the walls of his palace trembled.

  "We can't tell who it was," General Musab said. "Or where, exactly it was broadcasting from. As you know, the wreckage from that planet makes it difficult to isolate any ship's location that disappears into the asteroid belt."

  Musab pointed to the galactic chess board spinning slowly on its axis, to the place where the planet Tyre had once existed, now nothing but a collection of shattered asteroids and interstellar dust. Like his father before him, Lucifer had headed to the one place Hashem would have a tough time getting his hands on him without starting an intergalactic war. The Alliance flagship sat right on the convergence point of two galactic empires and two smaller kingdoms that were large enough they were nothing to be trifled with, a tempting target.

  "Any word on how badly injured Lucifer really was?" Shay'tan asked.

  "They smuggled him out in a cargo ship," General Musab said. "Not his regular shuttle. That's all we know." His dorsal crest rose into a spiny sail, deep in thought. The lizard had gotten into hot water with Ba'al Zebub because he did tend to think, a quality Shay'tan had noticed when he'd forbidden his expulsion.

  "Was Lucifer followed?" Shay'tan asked.

  "An Alliance destroyer broke off from the convoy following the Jehoshaphat and followed it there," General Musab said. "The Caleuche. She's lightly armed, but fast. So far, she's remained incognito."

  "The Jehoshaphat?" Even in his Grigori form, that name made Shay'tan shudder. "Everything indicates the Destroyer shifted his allegiance to Lucifer. That ship must have been assigned to protect him."

  "The Tokoloshe Kingdom and Free Marid Confederation are also tracking the comings and goings from the Alliance flagship, Sir," Musab said. "Lucifer's got ships converging on him from three sides. Four, if you include us."

  "This could get ugly," Shay'tan said. That gut feeling which knew humanoid nature rumbled, made worse by the fact fire now burned in his belly along with the seventy-two beasts he'd consumed to keep up his strength now that he had transformed back into his fire-breathing form. "What about my armada? The one that disappeared into deep space?"

  "Still no sign of it," General Musab met his gaze, his gold-green eyes cautious. "We've sent scout ships in every possible trajectory, searching for a hyperspace signature, but the trail ran cold the moment they exited Sata'an space."

  "How in Haven do you lose an armada with ninety-seven ships?" Shay'tan slammed his fist down on the table which lay beneath the spinning galactic chessboard. "Somebody must know something!"

  "Somebody did know something," General Musab said. "Unfortunately, either they caught wind we were looking into Ba'al Zebub and disappeared, or they've been found strangled, poisoned, or with a knife in their back, men we can assume remained loyal and were unaware of what was really going on."

  General Musab stepped back to avoid being incinerated by the flare which erupted from Shay'tan's snout, choking as the acrid stench of singed uniform burned his nose-holes.

  "Is the fleet ready?" Shay'tan asked.

  "It is," General Musab bowed. "But it will take two weeks to transport us to the coordinates."

  "Let me worry about that," Shay'tan rumbled.

  He closed his eyes and bypassed that tantalizing golden-white place where She-who-is invited him to play chess. He moved into the real source of power in the universe, the primordial matter controlled by her husband, He-who's-not.

  'My lord … I draw upon your power to move my fleet to address an internal threat. I do not move against any of thy mate's playthings.'

  A deep rumble that started in the palace and emanated outwards to shake all of Hades-6 like an earthquake let him know the Dark Lord had heard him. Most people assumed old gods such as himself were restrained from using their ascended powers because of idealistic notions about She-who-is gifting sentient creatures with free will. Dragonshit! The Dark Lord monitored any hiccup that might be used to harm his wife's playthings and instantly destroyed the wielder if the use of power was unauthorized. He wasn't called 'the Guardian' for nothing.

  Spreading his wings, Shay'tan spread his claws as though he were a magician, teleporting himself and General Musab into orbit to where the SRN Varyag circled Hades-6. Soldiers shrieked at the sight of Shay'tan jamming his sizeable frame into the tiny bridge and dove out of his way before he finished teleporting into the room. General Musab strode over to the captain's chair, understanding his emperor was far too large to sit down in the seat, and hit the intercom.

  "Attention all ships," General Musab said. "Battle stations. Emperor Shay'tan is about to transport this fleet into the juncture of the four empires. As soon as we arrive, we have a traitor to catch. Expect to come under immediate fire not only from Ba'al Zebub, but
also the Alliance, the Tokoloshe Kingdom, and the Free Marid Confederation. Take all appropriate measures."

  "Would you like us to open fire upon the Tsalmaveth as soon as we reenter normal space, Sir?" the Varyag's weapons master inquired.

  "We are to capture that ship at all costs," Shay'tan said. "And watch for escaping life pods. I wouldn't put it past Ba'al Zebub to offer up his men as pulse cannon fodder and use the explosion as cover to escape."

  Concentrating his ascended powers, Shay'tan tapped into his formidable ability to harness the element of fire and directed it into the time-space continuum to open up a wormhole between Hades-6 and the place four empires touched corners, the solar system where Shemijaza had once set up the capital of his empire. The entire fleet of three dozen ships shimmered and disappeared, reappearing milliseconds later next to the SRN Chinosia which had sat behind a dwarf planet monitoring the comings and goings at Lucifer's ship.

  He immediately scanned the area with that sense that went beyond seeing, but could detect no sign of Ba'al Zebub. Shemijaza had chosen Tyre as his base of operations for a reason. Like any weak spot in the time-space continuum, old gods such as himself were nearly blind here.

  The captain of the Chinosia came onto the video monitor.

  "Has the Tsalmaveth come out in the open yet?" Shay'tan asked.

  "No, sir," the Chinosia said. "But about two hours ago a shuttle left the Prince of Tyre and moved into the asteroid field, then came out again and hour later. No sooner did it dock than it broadcast a transmission to Haven-3 asking Parliament to authorize full diplomatic amnesty to any crew member willing to come forward and reveal the location of the human homeworld."

  "Hashem's bushy eyebrows," Shay'tan snarled. A puff of flame singed the ceiling of the SRN Varyag, igniting the uniforms of two hapless crewmen. Other lizard-soldiers leaped forward with fire extinguishers and put out the flames before the men could be seriously burned, then escorted them to the infirmary."

  "Have someone bring up our spacesuits," General Musab leaned into his intercom and calmly ordered as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "I want everybody on this ship to suit up just in case we experience a hull breech."

  Shay'tan gave Musab a nod of approval. Now they had to maintain all but short-range radio silence so Ba'al Zebub would not realize he was walking into a trap. His sides heaved, smoke exuding from his nostrils and choking the crew as they pulled on their spacesuits which happened to be fire resistant, the real reason Musab had ordered them to put them on, and waited. Wait. Wait. Wait. If there was one thing playing Emperor had taught Shay'tan, it was to develop the patience to outwait his enemy.

  "There … Sir!" the weapons officer pointed to his screen. His dorsal crest rose with excitement. "A ship. Coming out of the asteroid field! It's the Tsalmaveth."

  "Tsalmaveth, Tsalmaveth," the communications officer called into the radio. "You are hereby ordered to surrender that ship and move back into Sata'anic airspace or you will be destroyed."

  "Sir," the radar man said. "We've got a Tokoloshe dreadnought exiting hyperspace. They're hailing us."

  "Put them through," Shay'tan ordered.

  A gruesome, bear-like creature came onto the video screen. Broad-shouldered and hairy, the red hair-tuft on top of the cannibal's head denoted him a high-ranking male. Admiral Amin … second only to King Barabas.

  Medals and rank-pins adorned his chest, but it was the pins which adorned his collar which made even Shay'tan shudder. For each living creature they consumed alive, each diner crafted a rank-pin from one of the victim's teeth and used it to adorn their collar the same way Amin's earliest ancestors had strung those teeth into primitive necklaces to proclaim their brutality.

  "Emperor Shay'tan," the bear-like creature's maw opened, saliva dripping from its fangs. "We were not told you were taking a personal interest in this quarry."

  "Back off, Amin," Shay'tan growled. "Or you will deal with me."

  "The Tsalmaveth resides in Tokoloshe airspace," the Tokoloshe admiral snarled. "We are at peace at the moment. Would you violate our treaty and break your word?"

  "Don't you talk to me about treaties!" Shay'tan roared, making sure the bear-admiral saw his eyes were black with power. He belched fire at the offending video monitor, incinerating it so he did not have to listen to the upstart brag.

  It was a good thing General Musab had made his men don their spacesuits or they would have been cooked alive.

  "Would you like me fire upon the dreadnought?" General Musab asked.

  "Not unless we have to," Shay'tan clenched his claws. Admiral Amin had hit him where he knew it mattered, his reluctance to break his word. "What are the Marid doing?"

  "What they always do," General Musab said. "Waiting for one of the dragons to drop the prey so they can snatch it up. If not, they will go home hungry like they always do."

  Shay'tan knew the Free Marid Confederation would not dare take him on directly. The weakest of the four empires, their way was to ally with whichever one was most convenient at the moment and play the other empires against one another. In light of the breathtaking power-grab made by Lucifer and his upstart Parliament, the Free Marid were likely here to figure out which faction would be most profitable to align with.

  "Sir," the communications officer said. "The Tsalmaveth has not answered us. It just fired up its hyperdrives. It looks like it's going to make a jump into Alliance territory. If they do, we'll never catch them."

  "Engage," Shay'tan ordered. He waited as the painstakingly slow interstellar hyper dives fired up; irritated he did not dare try the Dark Lord's patience by wielding too much power to destroy what was only an internal problem. Had he been going after Moloch, that would be different.

  The Tsalmaveth was now in open airspace. The Tokoloshe dreadnought converged on it from one side, a Sata'an armada amassed on the other. The dreadnought was outgunned, but where there was one, there were always others in close proximity. Even a Sata'anic command carrier was vulnerable to a Tokoloshe battering ram.

  "Get this ship moving!" Shay'tan ordered.

  That dark power hummed beneath the surface, tempting him to dip into it just a little bit. Did he dare? Just a tiny nudge?

  "Sir," the communications officer shouted, his voice sounding tinny through the radio embedded in his spacesuit. "Three Alliance destroyers and the Eternal Light just exited hyper space. The Prince of Tyre is hailing them."

  "Hashem's foot!" Shay'tan snarled. "How the hell did Supreme Commander-General Jophiel's command carrier get here so fast?"

  "The Tsalmaveth is coming into missile range," the weapons master said. "Rail guns loaded and ready. We have her in our sights."

  "Tsalmaveth, Tsalmaveth, this is the SRN Varyag. You are to turn that ship around before you exit Sata'anic airspace or we will fire upon you. Surrender immediately."

  "Sir, the Prince of Tyre has moved to sit right on the border," the radar man shouted.

  "Have they crossed into our territory," Shay'tan hoped. If they did, he could use the incursion to justify what he was about to do.

  "No, Sir," the radar man said. "They are, quite literally, inches from the border and using impulse engines to hold that position so the gravitational force from the solar system doesn't cause them to drift over."

  "Damn you Lucifer!!!" Shay'tan spouted fire. "I won't fall for this trick! Do you hear me?"

  "Sir," the weapons master shouted. "The Tsalmaveth is within firing range, but if we hit it, it will damage the Prince of Tyre."

  "The three Alliance destroyers are almost upon their flagship, Sir," the radar man shouted.

  "If Lucifer's pretty little ship gets damaged, that's his fault," Shay'tan snarled. "Hit the engines of the Tsalmaveth so she can't move."

  The Varyag shuddered as the missiles left her silos. A moment later, the rail guns opened fire, targeting the engines of the Tsalmaveth so the ship had no way to maneuver. Explosions rocked the back of the ship, and then raced all the way up to its front.
Fire from the explosion jumped the narrow distance between where the Tsalmaveth drifted a few hundred thousand feet from the Alliance border and the Prince of Tyre which sat desperate to escort her over that line so they could steal the location of his damned planet from him! Debris hit the nose of the Prince of Tyre and tore off a section of its outer hull.

  "Dammit!" Shay'tan shouted at the sight of Ba'al Zebub's critically wounded flagship floating listlessly in space. "I want that ship taken alive! How the hell will I find that planet if you kill everyone on board?"

  "I didn't do that," the weapons master squeaked. "Sir! I only targeted the hyperdrives. The Tsalmaveth must have had something incendiary on board!"

  "Sir," the radioman shouted. "You've got to hear this!" He turned the nob on his radio and played the transmission. Lucifer's face came onto the video screen.

  'Eternal Light, this is the Prince of Tyre,' Lucifer shouted. 'We have come under fire! I repeat, we have come under fire from the Sata'an Empire. We are currently in Alliance Airspace. I repeat … we are in Alliance airspace attempting to give aid to some refugees which have just come over the border.' An explosion went off in the background. Lucifer looked desperate. 'Jophiel! I know we've had our differences, but these guys know the location of Earth!!!'

  "The Tokoloshe dreadnought has backed off and radioed they will give whatever aid the Alliance wishes," the radioman said. "Sir … they say it's all your fault."

  "Should I fire again, Sir?" the weapons master asked. "If we hit it, we risk hitting the Prince of Tyre."

  "Shit-shit-shit-shit!!!" Shay'tan roared as he pictured his newest resource planet falling into Hashem's hands. "Send out the destroyers to get grappling hooks around the Tsalmaveth! I need it!"

  Dozens of Sata'an destroyers and frigates raced towards the wounded Tsalmaveth.

  "The Prince of Tyre has shot out grappling hooks as well," the radioman said. "It's attempting to tow the Tsalmaveth into Alliance Airspace."