Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga)

by Anna Erishkigal

  Cold, alien images filtered into her mind. Sacred symbols painted in the temple of She-who-is. Squares. Rectangles. Many-pointed stars with people moving along the length of them as though performing a shamanic dance. No! Not symbols. Training katas! New enemies fanned around her in the pattern she recognized from the symbols, readying to surge over the growing wall of bodies. They toyed with her, leering, unaware a larger platoon ran only moments behind her. All she had to do was keep the enemy busy.

  Another lesson filtered into her mind.

  ‘A group of men will fear hitting one another as they come at you,' Mikhail had said. 'They will watch what the other men do before rushing in to hit you. Use this delay against them.’

  The God of War counted out a staff kata as a foursome rushed at her. This movement felt familiar. Mikhail had made them practice the routine so many times the memory of it was deeply ingrained into Pareesa's muscles. Strike the man in front of you. Get the man to one side and then the other. Block. Jab backwards at the man who thinks you are not watching your back. Start over. Do it again. The weapon she wielded had changed, become more lethal, more effective, but the manner in which it was handled felt familiar.

  She sensed the old god's satisfaction; this was a maneuver she could perform on her own. An image of a young Mikhail, training with the ant-like Cherubim to learn that exact same lesson at approximately the same age she was now, popped into Pareesa's mind. A sense of fondness filled her heart. A gift…

  "It's a sentiment we both share," Pareesa said as she thwacked to deflect a spear.

  She heard shouts, Assurian war whoops mixed with screams of dying men. The enemy turned, distracted by the threat which now came at them from the direction from which she had come. Ohthankthegods! At last her men were here!

  A thunderous roar shook the ground. Pillars of flame erupted from the shadow of three rocky outcroppings. Hot wind blew a blinding sandstorm of debris into Pareesa's face. Only the ability to see that second spirit-shadow prevented the enemy from overrunning her. Dozens of fireflies lit up surrounding each outcropping, blinking in a pattern, one side red, the other green. Pareesa feared her ears would pop from the unearthly howl.

  The boulders began to rise…

  She realized the murky shapes she'd mistaken for hills were really sky canoes! Unlike Mikhail's vessel, which was broken beyond repair, these were still capable of ascending into the heavens!

  Another spear flew past her, thankfully missing her.

  'Shōten o ateru!' the Cherubim god chastised her. Focus!

  The enemy milled in disarray. The sandstorm grew more ferocious, pelting her with tiny pebbles and wafting thick smoke that smelled like bitumen in a campfire. She took advantage of their distraction to cut down any enemy stupid enough to gape at the sky canoes.

  Two sky canoes moved in the direction the Assurians had come from, but the third moved to hover directly over her like a fat, squat vulture. A vortex of calm opened up in the center of the wall of sand, providing an unimpeded view of the underside of the ship. A single, round orb rotated around to stare down at her with its evil eye. The eye watched her. Malignant. Baleful. Waiting for the enemy to collect their bounty by severing Mikhail's head.

  'The Evil One…' the old god whispered into her brain.

  Ancient rage rattled every fiber of her being, though whether it was her hatred, or that of the old god, Pareesa could not be certain. At this point their anger was one and the same. Another enemy rushed at her with a spear. She kicked the man in the crotch and yanked the weapon out of his hand. Using every ounce of strength her small mortal body possessed, she took aim and heaved the shaft at that malignant, reflective, shiny orb; to blind it to the man who lay helpless at her feet. The spear flew true, straight into the Evil One's eye.

  Small sharp daggers fell onto her head. Pareesa threw up her arm to protect her eyes. The Evil One's sky canoe moved off, sandblasting her with debris until it moved far enough away that its roaring yellow dust devil subsided. Along with it vacated the heavy sense of oppression she hadn't even been aware had been pressing down upon her until suddenly the source had been removed.

  The enemy regrouped, ignoring the Assurians nipping at their outer edge, intent on collecting what to them appeared to be an easy bounty. Mikhail lay so close they could almost taste it, already fallen, already defeated, helpless, with nothing but a slender woman-child wielding a too-long sword standing over him to defend him. Had the enemy not learned that what they lacked in individual prowess, they made up for by always standing together?

  Ebad was the first to reach her. He recoiled in fear as she pulled up short of cutting him down and he noticed the inhuman blue glow of her eyes.

  “Pareesa … let me help you?" Ebad lowered his spear to show he was no threat. He had seen Mikhail fight enough times to understand she was not just Pareesa anymore, but something extra. “You defend him and I will watch your back.”

  The God of War prompted her to nod acceptance even though Pareesa, herself, was less than enthusiastic it had been Ebad, and not a more capable warrior, who had been the first to fight to her side. Words of gratitude came out spoken in the Cherubim language. Ebad clutched his spear and moved to stand behind her, his back against hers. All around them the battle raged as the better-trained Assurians, outnumbered almost three to one, took on the less cohesive enemy and, little by little, began to turn the tide.

  And still the enemy only cared to collect their bounty…

  Explosions ignited off on the horizon, back in the direction where the Assurians had run from. The sky canoes had seen fit to rain down hellfire upon whichever chiefs had refused to answer Pareesa's call. A cheer went up through the enemy warriors who still outnumbered the Assurians. This, it seemed, had been part of their plan. Ebad moved more tightly against her back and together they fought on, stabbing, kicking, whirling, punching, whatever it took to keep the oncoming hordes off of Mikhail's body and away from his head with the knives they clutched ready to finish the job.

  A screech of pain cut through Pareesa's killing incantations and resonated with an odd note of emotion and fear.

  "Ebad?"

  The young man crumpled into a heap behind her, a spear sticking out of his shoulder. The Cherubim god projected what had happened into her mind. Ebad had jumped in front of a spear to save her. The old god prompted her to rip it out and pierce the bastard through the heart who had injured him. Ebad screamed and curled up in a fetal position.

  “Sore wa orokade yūkan'na, watashi no yūjindeshita. Arigatōgozaimasu,” the old god spoke through her, thanking Ebad for his brave but foolish sacrifice.

  Pareesa now defended two fallen comrades instead of one, but ululating greetings heralded the arrival of a second, larger group of Ubaid. Allies. Sent by the regional chiefs. The Evil One's sky canoes had hit the encampment, but by the number of shouts, not many of them had been there to be killed!

  Pareesa laughed. Even in ambush, Mikhail had won! For the first time in Ubaid history, disparate tribes had rallied their warriors and responded against a threat as a single army.

  Now outnumbered, the remaining enemies turned tail and ran into the darkness, abandoning their dead and the bags of gold the lizard demons had no doubt promised for their service. The Ubaid let out a cheer: Assurians, Ninevians, Gassurites and other allied villages who had gathered together to discuss Mikhail's plan to pool their resources as a nation.

  The victory cheers stopped as the warriors realized why Pareesa had refused to budge. First one warrior, and then another, let out an anguished sob as they realized it was not their winged leader who had held off so many enemies. Her moment of dire need finished, Pareesa thanked the old God of War who had stepped in to help her save him and asked for one last favor.

  "Please, Sir? How can we keep Mikhail from dying?"

  The information jumped into her mind, a series of images instead of speech. Pareesa's lip trembled as she realized the news was worse than she had feared. One last piece of i
nformation spilled forth from her lips.

  'Ebad wa, anata to no ai, orokana on'nanokodesu,' her own lips chided her in the Cherubim language. 'Anata no me o hiraite, teikyō sa reru mono o ukeireru.'

  The old god moved her hand and forced her to lay eyes upon the young man laying upon the ground. Shame flooded into her body, but it was not the old god's shame, but hers. All this time she'd already had someone who loved her as much as Mikhail loved his wife, and she had done nothing but treat him poorly. She should accept the gift Ebad offered to her, the old god chastised her, because never again would she find a man who loved her so much he would jump in front of a spear.

  The old god released her, although she could sense he lurked in the periphery, feeding her strength, but otherwise reluctant to interfere. Her perception of Mikhail's sword grew weightier in her hand. It felt unfamiliar, clumsy, heavy, as though her prowess with it only moments earlier had been nothing but a dream. She had a long way to train before she could wield such a weapon on her own the way that Mikhail did.

  Pareesa dropped to her knees between Mikhail and her wounded team-mate. Ebad gave her a weak smile.

  "We did it, didn't we?" Ebad said. "We saved him."

  Tears dripped down Pareesa's cheeks a fresh spurt of blood gushed forth from Ebad's shoulder. She stared at Ebad as though she were seeing him for the very first time. No longer soft. No longer weak. No longer incompetent. Using Mikhail's training, Ebad had transformed himself into everything Pareesa had ever wanted in a man.

  "We did," Pareesa squeezed his hand. "We did it together."

  The Ubaid warriors poked fearfully at the wall of lizard demons, not certain what to do now that they witnessed creatures of nightmare materialized into the flesh. It was, ironically, Ipquidad, the portly son of a flaxseed oil dealer, who was the first to climb over the wall of bodies. He stared down at Mikhail with dismay.

  "Tell us what to do?" Ipquidad's voice warbled with emotion.

  "Go. Go tend to Mikhail." Ebad gave her a weak smile.

  Pareesa let go of his hand and stood, anger surging through her veins at the sight of the red cape peeking from between Mikhail's black-brown wings.

  "Get her out of here!" She jabbed her index finger at the red-caped dead woman. "That is not Ninsianna!"

  Ipquidad grabbed the red-caped traitor by the feet and dragged her out of Mikhail's arms, dumping her body face-down in the dirt, two of Pareesa's arrows sticking out of her back.

  Pareesa glanced down at the Angelic she had risked everything to save; an unearthly creature, not of this world, but a man who had fought with the armies of a god. He did not look so god-like now.

  “Mikhail!” Pareesa sobbed.

  She crawled to him, praying for him to be okay.

  Oh gods! Oh gods! He was so pale and limp!

  "Please please please please!"

  She fumbled at his neck, searching for a pulse. She felt nothing. A sob wracked her chest as she pressed trembling fingers deeper into his jugular.

  "Please!" She shook his shoulder as if that, alone, might wake him up from this terrible nightmare.

  The weak kiss of a pulse throbbed against her fingertips. Emotion tore through her chest as a sob of joy.

  "He's alive!"

  The warriors cheered.

  Pareesa rolled Mikhail onto his back to assess his injuries, careful not to crush his feathers. Her lip twitched with a gasp of horror, capturing a single tear. There was a knife. Sticking out of his chest. How was he even still alive?

  She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “You must hang on!" Tears blurred the sight of his slack jaw. "Needa will tend your wounds. She can fix it. I know she can.”

  She turned back towards the warriors who had grown silent, the reflection of the bonfire making a garish mockery of their expressions of grief, and looked beyond them to the conflagration the lizard-demon sky canoes had left billowing black smoke into the darkness of the horizon, the place where they had left behind the regional gathering of chiefs … including Ninsianna's father.

  "Immanu!" Pareesa cried out. "Oh! Gods! Somebody go fetch Immanu!"

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter 5

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.11 AE

  Alpha Sector: Haven-1

  Brigadier-General Raphael Israfa

  Raphael

  It was time to go meet his maker…

  The light grew brighter with each step he took towards the beautiful, white-winged Angelic who beckoned to him from the far end of the hallway which reminded him of a tunnel. They'd agreed she would wait for him at the entrance to the Pearl Gate, to guide him past the challenges all seekers faced who wished to gain an audience with their Emperor and god. White crepuscular rays streamed down through the atrium and gave her the appearance of wearing a sunlit crown. His heart beat faster, though whether it was because he was happy to be running towards her, or fear that he was about to answer to his creator, he couldn't say. An electrifying sense of feeling sparked between them as he stepped into the light and slipped his hand into hers.

  "Are you sure he'll be okay with us?"

  Brigadier-General Raphael Israfa carefully relieved his lover, Jophiel, of the red-winged toddler who'd fallen asleep in her arms and tucked their son into the shelter of his golden wings. By 'he' he meant the Emperor, and by 'okay,' he asked, 'will the Emperor really be okay with the fact that while the Alliance is falling down around our ears, you and I just broke every law he has prohibiting fraternization between active members of the Alliance military?'

  Jophiel's unearthly blue eyes waxed almost as pale as her white-blonde hair and snowy white wings. Raphael caught his breath. Whenever she met his gaze, it felt as though he stared at a mirror into his own soul.

  "He gave me leave to follow my heart," Jophiel said. She tucked her wings against her back and schooled her features into the mask of their Supreme Commander-General. "Besides, the Emperor would not have wanted me to miss a heat cycle. Given the intrigues Lucifer forced upon us, I had few options other than to draw upon my previous partners."

  That sensation of feeling whatever she did ever since they'd cast all caution to the wind and declared their love let Raphael know she rehearsed a lie. After Lucifer's breathtaking rebellion, she'd been forced to take refuge in the palace, stripped of rank and ordered to submit to an interrogation by Lucifer's Parliament, an order the Emperor had politely declined. Abaddon really searched for him … and the 97 ships the Emperor had placed under his command.

  Uriel's pet gorock trotted at Jophiel's heel as they moved towards the inner sanctum. Raphael could feel something troubled her, but he doubted she feared the Emperor would punish them for consummating the marriage which was now real in every aspect except for name. There was no undoing a sacred union once the Bond of Ki had been forged. They had declared their love before a higher god and their spirits were now so intertwined the thoughts of one echoed within the heart of the other.

  Raphael could see now why the Emperor had forbidden hybrids to marry. If left to their own inclinations, Angelics really did mate for life. What good was an army where, if one died, the Emperor lost two soldiers instead of one?

  "How went your test?" Raphael asked.

  Jophiel's hand slipped down to rest upon her lower abdomen. Sadness. Disappointment. Apprehension. Raphael sensed her emotions as though they were his own. Jophiel was stoic, but she could not hide the sob of disappointment which echoed in his gut.

  "It was so soon after we created Uriel," Raphael soothed her. He cuddled the toddler who nestled, asleep, against his chest, a result of their first union which had been contrived as all hybrid mating appointments were to prevent them from consummating a lifemate bond. "Perhaps we were mistaken about it being your heat cycle?"

  "The test came back inconclusive!" Jophiel sniffed. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Twelve babies I have born this Alliance, and the first time I try to conceive one out of love instead of duty, She-who-is rejects us by refusing to
bless our union!"

  "We still have Uriel." Raphael slipped his fingers into her silky white feathers. "No other hybrid has ever borne as many children as you have to fill the ranks of our Emperor's armies. Perhaps She-who-is feels your body deserves a rest?"

  Jophiel paused under a fresco of a round, many-winged species which stared down at them from the palace walls, its dozen eyes painted so realistically they appeared to follow them as they walked the hallway beneath it. They were Wheles, a species which had gone extinct within their lifetime. Jophiel glanced at Uriel's small red wings rising and falling against his back as he breathed in the worry-free sleep of the very young, and then back at the scarlet-winged species which no longer graced the material realms.

  Extinct. As they soon would be if Raphael let anything deter him from his mission…

  "I never even got to hold the other eleven!" Jophiel's voice warbled. "If Abaddon hadn't sent them here to make me personally tell them I was no longer their commanding officer, instead of bashing down the Emperor's front door like Parliament wanted him to do, I still might not know what it was like to embrace my own offspring."

  "You were never given any choice," Raphael said softly. "Not until Uriel almost died."

  "I think," Jophiel's wings fluttered with frustration, 'that that was Abaddon's point!" She resumed her solemn pace, glancing back only once at the painted testament of a species that had ceased to exist. "It is said that even as Abaddon moves his armada to the Sata'an-Alliance border, that his human wife goes with him. That even in battle, The Destroyer cannot bear to be parted from his mate."

  "He flaunts his newfound power," Raphael said. "According to Mikhail's partial vectors, Abaddon searches in the wrong location. Parliament has plunged us into a war we cannot win!"

  Their footsteps echoed on the marble like the drumroll of a military firing squad.