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

by Anna Erishkigal

  Everything is going to be okay…

  “Let’s get you home," she said. "Okay? We’ll talk about this when you sober up.”

  “Okay…”

  He staggered behind her like an enormous, five-cubit-tall, falling down drunk, obedient winged dog. She led him into the house, past the curious stare of her parents who had sat down to discuss, no doubt, her earlier conversation with her Mama.

  “He was at the sisters,” she silently mouthed the words. “They’re experimenting with a new recipe.”

  “Oh,” her parents mouthed back. Papa elbowed Mama, his expression amused. They’d all made the mistake of imbibing some of the widow-sisters more experimental concoctions at one point or another … and paid the price the next morning with a rip-roaring hangover.

  “C’mon, honey,” she called. "Let's get you upstairs so you can sleep it off."

  Mikhail followed as docile as a newborn goat as she led him up the stairs and fumbled with the small, round fastenings on his shirt he called ‘buttons.’ It would have been easier if he hadn’t kept leaning forward and mumbling in her ear how sorry he was for disappointing her. Fearful he would topple over, she finally gave up and aimed him towards the bed, doing little to slow his fall as he toppled forward and curled up in a ball, fully dressed.

  “Ninsianna?” he slurred just before he passed out. “I love you, you know? More than my own life?”

  He had said the words to her many times, but for the first time since he had given to her that vow, she finally heard him.

  His words gave way to snoring.

  “Good night, sweet Angelic,” she kissed his cheek.

  She removed his boots and covered him up with the soft woven blanket Yadidatum had given them as a wedding present, stopping to run her fingers through his thick, dark hair which had gotten longer since he had crashed here. She turned her eyes to face the tiny altar she kept to She-who-is, the one she had prayed to the day SHE had first gifted her with her vision.

  "Mother? Please help me fix my marriage?"

  "Quomodo cum timore vulnus mederi tenebris filius," a deep rumble answered, not the voice of She-who-is, but instead the source of that big black wall which even She-who-is could not help her see around.

  How can you heal this wound if you fear the dark, child?

  It was the same thing her Papa always said to her. Sort of…

  "Be gone, black man!" Ninsianna hissed at a shadow which moved in the corner, that cat-like thing which followed her around and lapped at her ankles, the Dark Lord's pet come to spy upon her!

  Summoning that thread which connected her to She-who-is, she curled up next to her husband and prayed for a vision.

  Chapter 90

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.11 AE

  Alliance: Haven-3

  Acting Supreme Commander-General Abaddon

  aka 'The Destroyer'

  Abaddon

  "Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye," the Speaker of the Commons called out to the ongoing Joint Emergency Session of Parliament. "We shall now hear testimony from our supreme military commander, General Abaddon."

  Unlike the Eternal Emperor, Parliament did not disarm their most decorated general each time he entered the Great Hall of Parliament. Weapons bristling, he looked up at the faces which peered down from the lofty balconies which circled the central podium. Today, the political factions were subdued. The only sound which broke the silence was weeping and the occasional cough given to cover up the emotion of an empire in mourning.

  Under Alliance law, the Speaker of the Commons would act as Prime Minister until Lucifer was either found alive, or they'd recovered a body in which case they weren't certain what would happen. The laws the Emperor had crafted to create this dual-house legislative body in the first place were hereditary, centering around the man he had raised to be his son and any offspring he might beget to fill his role. Without Lucifer, the dual-house legislative function of Parliament was defunct, as were the override laws Parliament had used to pass a resolution declaring the Emperor was nothing but a figurehead. Without Lucifer, Parliament was technically as dead as he was.

  Yeah… Try putting that genie back in the bottle…

  "Mister Speaker," Abaddon tucked his grey wings against his back and stepped up to join the Speaker at the podium. "I have come as the People requested."

  A man accustomed to getting things done, the slender, well-dressed Muqqui'bat dragon wasted no time in getting down to business.

  "General Abaddon," the Speaker's dragon-like snout was filled with caution, "you understand this governing body must ask questions about the circumstances surrounding the Prime Ministers disappearance?"

  Abaddon turned to face the inquest. He held a fighting man's stance, legs shoulder-width apart, ready to move at the slightest provocation, the habit of a man who had served in the military his entire life. This was not the first time he'd been called to answer for a mission which had gone terribly wrong, merely the first time he'd faced an inquest comprised of thousands of elected delegates instead of the ire of their now-ceremonial Emperor and god. Gods! How he hated politics! But the people he served deserved an answer, and answer he would.

  "When the Prime Minister left here last week," Abaddon said, "I feared the Emperor might retaliate by re-arresting him. I ordered a frigate to follow him. As I anticipated, the Prime Minister traveled out to rendezvous with the Prince of Tyre."

  "Did you have any idea he planned to rendezvous with Ba'al Zebub?" the Speaker asked.

  Whispers rumbled through the great circular balconies like the winds which preceded a thunderstorm. Sobbing continued from a few females who had idealized the Prime Minster, and quite possibly bedded, but already Abaddon could feel the sea change of predatory Selachamorchi circling for the kill. Lucifer's sudden absence had opened up a whole new range of opportunities.

  "No, Sir," Abaddon bowed his head. "So far as I knew, Lucifer wished to reunite with his wives."

  "Wives?" the Speaker's voice lilted in surprise. "You mean he had more than one of them?"

  "He had three that I knew of," Abaddon chose his words carefully. "As you know, the Prime Minister was desperate to produce an heir. The condition the old dragon put on receiving a Sata'an citizen was we must marry them before begetting any offspring upon them, but under Sata'anic law, it is permissible for a high-ranking male to keep more than one wife."

  Whispers circulated, some angry, some surprised. There were some amongst their members who kept more than a single wife, but usually a member planet, upon becoming mainstreamed into Alliance society, adopted their custom of a one-on-one pairing. It was ironic how the Alliance proper snooted their noses upon Sata'anic citizens who clustered into extended families and harems, and yet they had no problem with Hashem pimping hybrids into a loveless existence so he could breed soldiers to defend them?

  "I don't condone his exuberance," Abaddon added softly. "Now that I am married, I cannot conceive of loving any woman other than my wife, but the long-term stability of the Alliance depends upon Lucifer producing an heir."

  Abaddon's grey eyes scrutinized the circle of delegates who sat in their lofty balconies, judging a man who was no longer here to defend his actions. He'd always thought of Lucifer as a pompous ass, but he would not let them besmirch his reputation unless it was warranted. He turned his scarred cheek to face them, the sword-cut he had taken for them which had almost taken his eye.

  "He considered it little different than the Emperor's mandatory breeding program," Abaddon growled. "The only difference is those wives have legal status like a real wife instead the … nothing." He stepped forward and made a sweeping gesture up at the delegates sitting up in the balconies. "The nothing we hybrids are left with when we are forced to spread our seed and then give away our children for the glory of this Alliance!"

  The whispers died down. An inside joke was that the only bullets Lucifer had ever shot were blanks. The little prick had had the last laugh. The only question was, had any of his see
d survived?

  The Speaker directed the inquest back on track.

  "Do you have any idea why Shay'tan might have fired upon Ba'al Zebub's ship?"

  "No, Sir," Abaddon said. "Only what was broadcast in the transmission Lucifer sent before Shay'tan's entire fleet materialized on the borderlands, that Ba'al Zebub wished asylum in exchange for giving us the location of Earth."

  "Why was the Eternal Light stationed on the Sata'an-Alliance border?" the Speaker asked.

  Abaddon spread his wings like a raptor, unconsciously caressing the hilt of his sword. "I wished to send Shay'tan a message not to invade the way he did when our Emperor disappeared 225 years ago."

  "Was there any other reason?" The Speaker already knew the answer. This question and answer session was for Parliament's benefit.

  "Two months ago Jophiel culled 97 ships from our ranks and purportedly sent them into the uncharted territories to search for pirates," Abaddon said. "Now that she has been stripped of rank, the Emperor returns to turn her over to us for questioning and nobody seems to know where those ships have gone."

  A gasp went through Parliament. An angry buzz. Fear. An armada containing that many ships could wreak havoc should they choose to throw their support behind the Eternal Emperor.

  "Jophiel's men are loyal to her," Abaddon said, " and she to the Eternal Emperor. I redeployed her command carrier to the Sata'an-Alliance-Tokoloshe border to remind her crewmen who their real enemies are."

  Parliament quieted down. Shay'tan had given them a reminder.

  "Play Lucifer's distress call, please," the Speaker said.

  'Eternal Light, this is the Prince of Tyre. We have come under fire!'

  Parliament knew Jophiel had been stripped of rank, but the larger Alliance population was unaware of this development. Lucifer's final broadcast on an open frequency had the television networks in a furor. So far as the average citizen knew, Jophiel had watched Lucifer die and had done nothing to save him.

  'Mayday … mayday … mayday,' Lucifer shouted into the video screen. 'We are under fire by the Sata'an Empire. Jophie! Please don't leave me here to die!"

  Those delegates who'd been holding back tears began to openly weep. Abaddon glanced over at the tall, slender figure of the Speaker of the Commons, his head bowed. The Speaker and Lucifer had a love-hate relationship, and yet, so much of what Parliament had become was Lucifer's baby, the child he had birthed in place of the children of his flesh.

  "Why didn't the Eternal Light save the Prime Minister?" the Speaker's voice warbled as he asked the question.

  "Major Klik'rrr is a good man," Abaddon said. "But he's always served Jophiel in an administrative capacity. Our intelligence indicated only a single Sata'anic destroyer patrolled the border. He had no idea he would be engaging Shay'tan's entire war fleet. He wasted three whole minutes sending a subspace message back to the Jehoshaphat asking for his orders."

  "Display the footage from the frigate you sent to shadow him," the Speaker ordered.

  A video monitor replayed the Sata'anic frigate opening fire on what was left of Ba'al Zebub's wreckage. The shot ignited debris in space, but to Abaddon's practiced eye, it did not appear large enough to take out a ship the size of the Prince of Tyre.

  Abaddon's mind whirred. Had Lucifer leaped into hyperspace to avoid destruction? He could see no glow of the hyperdrives. Sometimes if a ship was damaged when it tried to jump, it got trapped between the dimensions or showed up someplace other than its intended destination.

  'Where are you?' Abaddon stared at the video of Lucifer pleading for Jophiel to save him. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut. Something about the glint in Lucifer's eerie silver eyes made it seem as though he thought this was all a game.

  "Why didn't you order Major Klik'rrr to engage the Sata'an war fleet after the Prince of Tyre disappeared?" the Speaker asked. There was no recrimination in his voice. They had already discussed this and the Speaker backed Abaddon's decision.

  "The Sata'an ships never fired into Alliance territory," Abaddon said. "It was debris left over from Ba'al Zebub's ship which ignited. We found no wreckage from the Prince of Tyre. We hoped … at the time we thought Lucifer had simply jumped away, Sir. The entire incident seemed a little too … staged."

  "Staged?" the Speaker asked.

  "It doesn't feel right," Abaddon said. "Ba'al Zebub? Defecting? Right after he'd help Lucifer take down the Eternal Emperor?"

  Abaddon shook his head.

  "The old dragon is clever. What better excuse to start a war than claim we attacked him when he sent his top henchmen to the neutral zone to treat with our Prime Minister about the change of power?"

  That uneasy feeling settled in Abaddon's gut again. Except, by eliminating Lucifer, Shay'tan had just fixed his adversaries problem of a pesky Parliament. He did not speak those words around. No one wanted to loan support to the theory that, by killing Lucifer, Parliament no longer had any authority by talking about it. Let the Emperor be the one to make those claims … then try to ram a 225 year setback down his citizen's throats.

  "Did any Sata'an ship or weapons fire cross the Alliance border at any time?" the Speaker asked.

  Abaddon's face hardened into a scowl. "No, Sir. The old dragon made damned sure he provoked us into being the ones to cross the border."

  The Speaker of the Commons turned back to the larger Parliament, ready to resume the intricate dance. "I am no war hawk, but our Prime Minister is missing and presumed dead at Shay'tan's hands. Are we to let this offense stand?"

  "No!" the delegates shouted from the balconies. Weeping gave way to cries of anger, calls to war. Two weeks ago Parliament had eviscerated the Eternal Emperor's authority. They were still drunk with their newfound power.

  "Before we go to war, I think we should hear from our top military commander what his recommendations are?" the Speaker banged his gavel upon his podium. "General Abaddon? If you please?"

  Abaddon stared up at the delegates who perched off the circular balconies like fledgling raptors, eager to spread their wings and begin their first hunt. Few had been alive long enough to remember some of the crushing losses the Alliance had suffered at the hands of Shay'tan. Even Abaddon had only caught a glimpse of what the old dragon was capable of compared to the battle histories he had read about in officer training school. On the other hand, this offense could not go unchallenged.

  "Before I give my recommendation," Abaddon said, "I must state that I possess a bias. As you know, my beautiful wife would like me to find her homeworld and wrest it away from Shay'tan's control. I cannot promise that this consideration does not cloud my judgment."

  A murmur went through the hall. Abaddon was known for such frank speech, which was why he was trusted as a military commander. He would say his piece, and then let the politicians argue about it.

  "Duly noted," the Speaker said.

  "Lucifer traveled there, of all places, to treat with Ba'al Zebub about the location of the human homeworld," Abaddon said. "Perhaps it was a ruse? Perhaps not. But I do know the Prince of Tyre remained stationed in that sector the entire time Lucifer received shipments from the Sata'an Empire of human brides. I also know Ba'al Zebub claimed the planet was one our Emperor had ceded in the past. Lucifer's biological father, Shemijaza, claimed he had made headway into solving the problem of the hybrid's decreasing ranks before he died. The human homeworld may lie within the belt of planets Shay'tan seized after Shemijaza was killed?"

  The delegates argued amongst themselves. It was all conjecture. Educated guesses. Little more than a hunch, and not a strong one at that. But if Sarvenaz's homeworld was just over the border, then securing it would only be a matter of returning Sarvenaz and the other human brides to their families and asking them to invite their new husbands in to annex their planet as an Alliance protectorate.

  "Might it be possible," the Speaker asked, "that our Prime Minister, as lawful heir to the throne of the Third Empire, simply stationed his ship, ironically named the Prince of Tyr
e, near the debris field of the planet Tyre, seat of his biological father's empire, so that he could reclaim it for us from Shay'tan?"

  It was a fiction. But it was a fiction which would narrow military action to within the narrow strip of territory Shemijaza had once controlled instead of a full-fledged declaration of war against the full might of the Sata'an Empire. At the very least, it would give Abaddon a place to begin searching now that the only man in the Alliance who had a clue where humans might be located was now presumed dead.

  "Yes," Abaddon agreed.

  "I hereby move this Parliament to declare a state of limited war upon the Sata'an Empire," the Speaker of the Commons said, "for the purpose of securing the territory formerly known as the Third Empire for its rightful heir, Prime Minister Lucifer, or any children he may have begotten upon his many wives. All in favor say aye?"

  "Aye!"

  Abaddon stood impassive as they voted, refusing to allow that familiar thrill any military man felt upon being let off his leash and allowed to do that thing only men of action found any thrill doing … the art of war. The vote was not unanimous, but it was far more than the two-thirds vote needed.

  "Any nays?"

  A sizeable, but not significant, number of delegates opposed. From the chatter which rippled through the Great Hall, most opposition was not because they felt military action was unwarranted, but because they feared things might escalate into a full-fledged war.

  "The ayes have it," the Speaker of the Commons said. "The Alliance is now at war."

  * * * * *

  Abaddon looked with bemusement upon the small hand which clutched his hand so tightly that his fingers had begun to turn white from lack of circulation. Sarvenaz's long, dark lashes brushed the curve of her upper cheekbones, her lips moving silently in a prayer as the shuttle fought its way free from the clutch of gravity. His ears popped as they pulled above the Haven-3 mesosphere, that point at which most meteors burned up, and the shuttle lurched forward, free from the drag of the inner atmosphere.