He could feel the outline of the secret-box pressing into his thigh, the one his father had convinced him was all made up in his head. He had come to his father once before, warning him that Mikhail's own people were purchasing their people from the lizard demons, and his father had cast him out and elevated Mikhail instead. What would he tell him now? That the lizard demons were decent people after all? Or that the so-called Evil One was … well … what could he say? How could he find the man so compelling and yet loathe everything that Lucifer stood for?
A long, mournful howl from directly beneath him in the kitchen made the decision for him. His father had already had several chances to believe him, and at every turn, his father had chosen to believe a stranger. He would give his father the same chance his father had given him when he'd turned him out into the desert. Let his father get himself out of the house … or perish … by his own efforts!
With grim determination, he moved down the stairs and searched for signs of Pareesa to make sure she was dead. The sitting room was fully engulfed in flames, but he was certain he had hit her with the pulse rifle at least once. On the wall, the fire licked upwards towards tiny woven carpet, one of the last remnants that once upon a time he'd had a mother. No. Not the only remnant. That carpet had been woven for his sister, but the secret box? The secret box was his.
Coughing to dispel the smoke from his lungs, he ran into the kitchen, picked up the terrified housekeeper, and dumped her out in the street like the contents of a chamber pot. Without a backwards glance, Jamin made his way back down the streets, buried his knife into the throat of the lone un-sick sentry when he stepped up to the gate, and walked right out the front gate of Assur.
Behind him the sky glowed red as the Chief's house burned to the ground.
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 44
December, 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Pareesa
Pareesa's feet made a disgusting splurching sound as she crept along the stream bed, doubled over to remain below the sight-line of the Uruk raiders. Ebad would have called this perfect potter's clay, but if she had to fish her pampooties out of the mud one more time, she swore she would scream. Why, oh why, hadn't she been blessed with the ability to creep up behind the Uruk and slit their throats the way that Mikhail could?
As she ran, she remembered a conversation they had once had about Mikhail's ability to become one with the darkness.
'Mikhail? When will you teach me to smite our enemies from the rear?'
'You're too young to learn such things,' Mikhail had said.
'Did I not just help defend the village against overwhelming numbers?
'You are too short to creep up behind a man and surprise him,' Mikhail had said. He'd stared down at her, impossibly tall.
'I am not! I'm even taller than Ninsianna is now.'
From the rustle of Mikhail's feathers, she'd known he was laughing at her even though he wore his usual unreadable expression. He craned his neck downwards until his unearthly blue eyes were level with hers.
'And how will you -reach- their throat to slit it from the rear, Little Fairy? Will you ask them nicely to please bend down so you can kill them? Or would you rather jump up and down like an eager little dog?'
Old irritation blended with sadness at the fact Mikhail might die whether or not she beat the assassins back to the village. What would she do without him, this man who had always judged her by what she could do and not by her gender or her age?
The receding daylight made her footing treacherous as she scrambled down the precipitous jumble of muddy boulders where the stream cascaded down into the Hiddekel River. She leaped from boulder to boulder until her foot slipped, causing her to land on her backside.
"Curse you, Jamin!" she cried out. If only she'd really shot him the day he'd tried to strike her and not merely gifted him an arrow through the hand!
Panting from exertion, she jogged up the path to the north gate.
Nighttime had fallen like a shroud around the village, hiding her approach from prying Uruk eyes. As she'd feared, it was completely dark, with no sign of the sentry fires, but at least the gate was closed. Or was that a bad thing? Darn! How was she supposed to get inside?
"Hello?" Pareesa scratched quietly on the coarse, solid boards. "Is there anybody on watch tonight?"
There was no answer.
She knocked louder, but nobody came to open the gate. She ran her fingers along the exterior to find a handhold, but the wood had been scraped smooth. How could she warn people if she couldn't get inside?
Three arrows jutted out of her quiver, their fletching reassuringly soft against her inquiring fingers. She did not possess wings to fly over the gate as Mikhail would have done, but perhaps she could shoot an arrow carrying a length of rope? Yes. That would work. But where could she find rope? Length of rope. Length of rope. Aha! She knew where there was rope, but it would entail hiking back down the hill.
Grumbling at her own idiocy, hiked past the narrow beach to high ground where was planted a grove of date palms. Beyond that was a pasture and several milking platforms, each one containing a small length of rope so the shepherds could tie up their goats for milking. She gathered as many as she could and tied them together into a single, bumpy length.
Muttering expletives the entire hike back up the hill, she tied the rope to an arrow and aimed it upright at a sharp angle. Drawing the bowstring back to her cheek, she let out a silent prayer as the arrow ascended, and then cursed as it fell short and nearly clobbered her over the head.
"A little help would be appreciated, you know?" Pareesa shook her fist into the air.
The old God of War did not answer her. The other villagers thought she possessed the blessing of the gods, but contrary to popular belief, the gods did not hover over mortals like anxious grandmothers, waiting to answer their every prayer. If anything, he seemed determined to make her figure out as much as possible for herself.
On her third try she sent a shot soaring over the gate. She jiggled the rope it until it lodged between two boards. Praying the rope fragments didn't untie, she hauled herself up, hoping she had knotted the pieces tightly enough. A fall from this height might not kill her, but it would most certainly break whichever part of her anatomy she landed upon. Knowing her luck, it would be her posterior. She could almost picture the missing Dadbeh cracking jokes about her new warrior nickname. Instead of çok puan mızrak, she would be renamed Pareesa of the Two Butt-Cracks.
Grunting and winded, she heaved herself up to the top of the gate, nearly falling down the other side as she balanced precariously at the top.
"Who goes there?" a warbled voice called.
Pareesa froze. Had the Uruk seen her climbing over the gate?
"I say, you better drop right back down on the outside or I'll shoot you where you stand."
Ohthankthegods! Not an Uruk!
"It's just me. Pareesa."
"Pareesa? What you doing up there, girl?"
"Coming to warn you."
"Why didn't you just knock on the gate?"
"I did. Nobody answered."
"Well, then, get down here, girl. And be careful. The Chief will have my hide if he loses you, too."
Pareesa pulled the rope over and slid down the opposite side. Before her stood Behnam, one of Mikhail's earliest supporters, his bow in hand. He might be partially deaf, but he wasn't blind and could shoot nearly as well as she could. The spry old man gave her a semi-toothless grin.
"I did'na hear you knock, child."
"Who's supposed to be on guard?"
"Tirdard took sick," Behnam said. "As has most of the village. An evil spirit has crept into our midst."
"It's poison," Pareesa said. She gestured in the direction of the lower well. "The Uruk gave Laum sanctuary in exchange for pouring something down into the wells. It's supposed to induce vomiting and delusions."
"I suspected something was amiss when everybody got sick at once," Behnam said.
He glanced down at his own water-skin. "I've been drinking from that most of the day, but I haven't gotten sick."
"Laum poisoned the well mid-day," Pareesa said. "Have you drawn any water since then?"
"Abisimti and I don't eat as much as we used to," Behnam shrugged. "It's too much work when you get to be our age. I guess that's why we were spared."
"Who else is sick?"
"Everyone," Behnam said. "The Chief. Varshab. Even Needa."
"What about Immanu?" Pareesa asked.
"He hasn't returned from Nineveh," Behnam said. "He went to convene with the other shamans."
Pareesa frowned. Without Immanu, how were they supposed to neutralize the evil spirits in the poison?
"The Uruk were in front of me the entire way here," Pareesa said. "They are likely already inside the village. I had to go the long way around to avoid detection."
Behnam fingered his arrows. "The warriors were the first to succumb. They all came in from their training and drank deeply from the wells."
"Find whoever you can who is not affected," Pareesa said. "There are only two handfuls of Uruk, but they are led by Jamin, so they know exactly where to go."
"The fools make another attempt at Mikhail?" the old man scowled.
"And me," Pareesa said. She stared down at her own bow, now down to two arrows in her quiver. "Jamin most especially wants to kill me."
"You must first go protect your family," Behnam said. "Firouz is on guard tonight at Immanu's house. If he hasn't succumbed to the poison, he is a capable warrior."
"As is Gita," Pareesa said. "She is a capable warrior, too."
"Gita is unarmed," Behnam said. "Immanu took away her knife and spear. He has accused her of being complicit with Shahla and has demanded the tribunal issue a death sentence."
"What?" Pareesa blurted out. "But the Chief agreed Gita is innocent!"
"Immanu claims he has evidence which says otherwise," Behnam said. "Now go! Go protect your family!"
A peculiar rush of headiness reminded her she wasted time. Unbeknownst to Immanu, she had placed Mikhail's sword back beneath his bed. Gita had no idea how to use it, but it was better than nothing.
"Start the notification tree," Pareesa said. "We are under attack. Warn people not to drink the water."
Behnam's mouth curved up into a wrinkled grin. "You've come a long way, little girl."
"And you're not too bad, either," Pareesa said, "for an old man."
Behnam loped off to warn whoever was still not smitten by the poison. Pareesa turned towards her own modest house, but that now-familiar tingle of power urged her to head in a different direction.
"You wish me to first save Mikhail?" Pareesa asked the old god.
It was frustrating, having a connection to a deity you could not communicate with clearly. Whatever the old god intended, along with his sense of urgency came a feeling her family would be alright. She moved into the third ring, but when she turned towards Immanu's house, the old god urged her to keep climbing up to the central square.
"Mikhail needs me," Pareesa protested.
That warning buzz grew insistent, more urgent. The God of War felt her skills were needed elsewhere. First her family, and then the man she adored. Why should she listen to him when both were her heart and soul?
Her frustration evaporated as the sensation led her to the Chief's house and stopped. Pareesa's blood turned chill as she recognized the Chief's door sat ajar. It wasn't Mikhail whom Jamin had come to smite, but Chief Kiyan. The bastard had come to kill his own father!
She pressed her back against the shadows, her heart pounding like a shaman's drum as she crept towards the sitting room. She pulled an arrow and strung it onto her bowstring. If Jamin killed the Chief, who would rule the village in his place? A mad shaman, irrational with grief over the abduction of his only child? Varshab, who did not want the power? Or would the lizard people force them to accept Jamin as the lawful heir? What would happen to her? And her family?
She burst into the room and choked with relief when she realized the room was empty. She moved the cushions to make sure Jamin hadn't hidden the Chief's body beneath the dismembered cushions. No. No body. Where was he? In the kitchen? Or had he made it back upstairs?
An explosion of stuffing erupted from the cushion.
"Goatshit!" Pareesa screamed.
The air smelled of burned goat hair and a scent that reminded her of lightning when it struck too close. She loosed her arrow and shot in the direction from whence the bolt of lightning had come.
A shadow cursed. A second bolt of lightning flew at her.
'Rōru!' The old god forced her body to roll to avoid the firestick. She felt that familiar sense of power tingle through her body, not possession, but that eerie sense of knowing what would happen before it manifested into the material world. She could taste, could smell, could see the place where Jamin crouched at the top of the stair.
Jamin stood, his black cloak trailing behind him as he extended both arms, one supporting the other as he took aim with the deadly firestick. She had never seen Mikhail fire his weapon, but she had seen him practice without firing enough times to recognize Jamin took aim for a kill shot.
'Clear your mind, focus only on the shot…' Mikhail's voice whispered inside her head. 'Sometimes, a primitive weapon can be superior to an advanced one if the user is skilled and they understand the limitations of their weapon.'
She could picture him, wings flared like a raptor's, as he had taught her how to shoot an arrow while under fire. She could do this. Yes. She could take this shot, just as Mikhail had taught her.
She rose, eerily calm as she stepped into view of Jamin's firestick and took aim, determined to smite this traitor who had cut down the teacher she loved. She could see the blue shadow of intent which moved from Jamin's mind to his finger as took aim and hissed with hatred: 'you.'
"Anata," she growled back as she let fly her arrow, "hitsuyō ga aru ... shinu!" The arrow whistled with unerring accuracy towards the bastard who had betrayed Mikhail.
Jamin fired his pulse rifle...
Pareesa leaped backwards, but lightning from the firestick touched her arm. It burned! It burned! Holy hell that burned! But by some grace of the goddess, the lightning only grazed her bicep.
It did not, however, miss the sitting-cushions she'd landed on. They ignited. Flames licked up the wall via a small, woven rug, it's coloring and weave out of place amongst the elaborate tapestries, up to the wooden struts which held up the second floor.
She struggled to her feet, but was forced to retreat when Jamin fired lightning every time she moved. Flames crawled up onto the ceiling, out into the entrance hall, and into the kitchen beyond. Pareesa coughed, her eyes burning as the heat threatened to burn out her eyeballs.
She must have fainted, because a moment later she lay on the floor, face pressed into a the carpet as thick black smoke filled the room. She shrieked as she realized her hair was on fire and pounded it out using her hand. The old God of War flooded her with strength, filling her head with urgent images to get out of here before she burned alive. She could see no sign of Jamin even though she was certain she had shot him through. Somehow the bastard had escaped.
She remembered why Bishamonten had sent her here in the first place. The Chief! She had to save the Chief if he was still alive!
Flames fell down from the ceiling like raindrops as she raced through the house, up the steps to the bedrooms. Enough light flickered through the doorway to see somebody lay upon a bed. She grabbed his arm and was relieved when the Chief moved. Ohthankthegods! He was still alive!
"Chief!" Pareesa shouted. "We've got to get you out of here. Now!"
"He's come home. My son has come home…"
She forced him upright and wedged herself beneath his armpit. He retched twice, but she was finally able to impress upon him the urgency to get outside. She guided his feet down the stairs, crying out when he tumbled the last three steps even though she wasn't the one who wa
s hurt.
"Chief! Please! Get up! We have to get out of here!"
The Chief stumbled towards the front sitting room where the fire had started, now fully engulfed in flames. A moment later he stumbled out again, coughing, and collapsed in front of her, clutching a small, burning woven carpet, oblivious that it burned him.
"You stupid, stupid man!" Pareesa screamed at him as no villager had ever dared disrespect their Chief.
She stomped on the carpet so it no longer burned him and helped him up, the scent of burnt hair even more sickening than the smoke. It was so thick she had a hard time figuring out where the door was, but Chief Kiyan was conscious enough that his feet found their own way out of his familiar house, towards a front door he had used thousands of times.
She dumped him outside, next to his elderly cooking-woman who apparently had made her own way outside before collapsing in front of the well. She only paused long enough to make sure both were still breathing before taking off in a frantic run towards Mikhail's house, the first victim on Jamin's kill-list.
'Please please please please,' she pleaded with the old god of war. 'Please don’t let me be too late!'
She burst into Immanu's house and froze when an inhuman howl pierced the air like a wolf baying at the moon in hunger. Every inch of her body screamed at her to run away as she stepped over three hacked Uruk, their mutilated bodies thrown down the stairs like meat.
'Do not be afraid,' images danced into her mind, reassuring, familiar, as the old god spoke the only way he could. 'The Dark Lord protects his own…'
Pareesa almost retched at the scent of sickness and rotted flesh blended with the scent of fresh gore, spilt blood and ruptured bowels. For a moment she thought that he had risen from his deathbed, but it was no Angelic who had wrought such damage, but a ghastly pale waif, her frame so thin and skeletal it was a wonder she could pick up Mikhail's sword.
"Gita," Pareesa said cautiously. "It's alright. It's just me."
Gita's head jerked towards her; menacing, birdlike, and hostile. She stood, sword raised, feet planted on either side of Firouz as she guarded Mikhail from all who came at him and snarled at Pareesa as though she did not recognize her. More mutilated bodies lay upon the floor, nary a head nor limb still attached as the floor glistened sickening red.
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 46
