Above them the clouds roiled black. Between their inky darkness licked tongues of yellow lightning like some great, hungry maw preparing to devour them for supper. The crowd grew quiet with anticipation, pointing at the person who had come forward on their behalf.
Lucifer stepped to the edge of the platform and reached down as though welcoming the old man into the fire which burned between them.
"Who comes forward to serve the One?" Lucifer asked.
"I do," the elderly Tokoloshe bowed.
"And what is your name, supplicant?" Lucifer asked.
"I am Abbas, uncle of Barabas, King of the Tokoloshe, and a warrior who has grown lame."
"And what prayers do you wish to carry to the ears of your god?" Lucifer asked. The bonfire beneath him reflected off of his snowy white wings, giving the impression each feather was made of fire.
"I wish," the elderly Abbas said, "to carry the wishes of my nephew, the king, and of all these good people to your ears."
"And what wish is that?"
"To cast off the chains of the two great empires which stunt our growth," the elderly Abbas said. "And to guide us forth into the galaxy, and the larger universe, to conquer it in your name."
"Your god is a benevolent god," Lucifer said, "desiring to give to you your most heartfelt desires." His features grew sharp and sinister. "But such endeavors require sustenance. What sacrifice do you propose to make, friend Abbas, that will give him enough strength so he can grant the wishes of your people."
"Let me join you in the sacred fire," the elderly Abbas said. "Scrub me free of my infirmity which makes me a burden upon my family, and let me join you as a devoted Agent."
The shouts of the Tokoloshe rose to a terrifying, screeching crescendo. The old man held out his arms, drinking it in as he countrymen urged him to cast his body upon the fires.
"On behalf of your god, I accept your gift," Lucifer gestured at Abbas. He pointed to two shaggy Tokoloshe guards who'd been standing off to the sides, each one holding a rope.
The two guards tugged. The tarp which covered the statue dropped gracefully to the ground, revealing a thirty-meter tall statue of an enormous, muscular creature. Clad from horn to hoof in solid gold, it's golden wings spread just as Lucifer's were; its bovine lips curled back into a sneer. The statue's arms reached directly over the flames, and its ruby eyes picked up the light, giving the appearance they followed whoever moved beneath it on the field.
Oh…fuck… Eligor wiped the name of the statue right out of his mind.
'Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!' the crowd shouted. They grew frantic, frenzied, rabid, as they shouted for the man to cast himself upon the fires. For a brief moment, Eligor thought the old man would chicken out, but he straightened up his headdress, gave everyone a sweeping wave goodbye, and made a running leap into the bonfire which burned at Lucifer's feet.
The crowd cheered.
Lucifer held out his arms, looking very much like the bull upon whose head he almost stood.
Eligor heard a horrible, gut-wrenching scream. The elderly man caught fire and writhed in agony, his feathered costume giving him the appearance of a firebird, until at last he stopped screaming, still twitching as the fire consumed him.
Lightning cleaved the air.
The fire burned green, not the color of the grass, but a putrid, sickening color. A great vortex took shape in the clouds. The smoke ascended upwards into the funnel cloud, carrying the scent of cooked meat, and dispersed it to the people in the stadium.
Eligor heard a scream. A body fell, out of the too-steep stadium and took out the people in the six rows beneath him. More bodies fell. All around them, the Tokoloshe began to riot, no, not riot, fight. The cannibals began to throw each other out of the rows. Bodies fell from the sky like raindrops and splattered onto the playing field. It was a cannibal-eat-cannibal contest in which the Tokoloshe curried favor by sacrificing the people around them, some of them members of their own family.
Eligor took cover beneath one of the shuttle's blunt, hawk-like wings. He heard a thud, and then another thud, as bodies splattered onto the ground, all of them broken, some of them still moaning as they died.
Lucifer threw out his arms and drank in the adoration.
"Feed me," Lucifer shouted. "Feed your god. For it has been too long, and I wish to give you this galaxy as your own!"
More Tokoloshe were thrown, screaming onto the bonfire. Others came forward, shouting they were ready, too, and cast their bodies into the flames voluntarily. The screams of the dying filled the stadium.
Eligor fell to his knees, watching the mad dance of insanity which had Lucifer holding the strings as puppet master.
"Your god is pleased!" Lucifer shouted.
At last the chaos began to quiet down. The surviving Tokoloshe, the strongest of the strong who had not been knocked out of their perches by their fellow countrymen, began to chant Lucifer's name.
'Lucifer … Lucifer … Lucifer … Lucifer…'
Lucifer held his arms upwards in a victory 'vee.'
"Victory!" he shouted.
"Victory!" the Tokoloshe in the stadium shouted in return.
Eligor clutched his gut, trying not to retch as he made his way back into the shuttle. Lucifer had told him to stay inside. He had no idea what to say to the man, or how to react to this brutal ceremony, or the apparent zeal with which Lucifer had participated. It was all smoke and mirrors. Yes. It had to be. Nobody but the Eternal Emperor Hashem could control the winds or call down lightning from the sky…
Eligor vomited on the grass.
Get your act together, dipshit! The only reason he trusts you is because he thinks this shit is all cool with you. How many times have you told Zepar you shot a body outside the airlock when you didn't? Sure, he'd killed people, plenty of people, to keep the puppet-prince out of trouble, but only if they deserved it. Only if they…
Great sobs wracked Eligor's body. Who the fuck was this guy he served?
It's no big deal. It's no big deal. It's just Lucifer. Okay? Get your act together. The guy has a mental health issue, that's all. You knew damn well when you shot him up with that shit this morning that the Evil Twin takes over and Lucifer turns into a psychopath. This is your own fault, dummy! Get your ass back into the ship.
What would he tell Lucifer when he came back? Cool show? No. He wasn't that cold. How about this? What the fuck is wrong with these people, these people are fucking sick? Yeah. That was it. Everybody hated the cannibals because they preyed upon their neighbors. He'd had no idea they were just as brutal with their own people. Yeah. He'd just act surprised.
He got back into the shuttle, washed off some blood that had splattered on his hand from one of the bodies, and then pulled out his clipboard and fervently began to conduct his circle check.
Clear the mind. Clear the mind. Fill it up with a bunch of nonsense. Just enough that he knows it bothers you, but not so much that he can see how very deeply you're disturbed. Yeah. That was it. Stupid cannibals. Shemijaza had flirted with the cannibals, but he'd never fully integrated them into his Third Empire, and now he could see why. Stupid idiots. They were a good deterrent, but what the fuck use were they as part of any kind of lasting, stable plan?
He held that thought when he heard footsteps striding up the ramp, onto the shuttle, as Lucifer lowered himself into his seat and buckled himself in. Behind him, the two goons trailed in, closed the ramp, and buckled in at the back of the shuttle.
"Are you ready to go home, Sir?" Eligor asked with the blandest tone he could muster.
"Yes, home, friend," Lucifer said. He leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes.
Eligor fired up the VTOL's and lifted off, circling once around the stadium, and then headed up to rendezvous with the Prince of Tyre. He focused on his instruments, the air traffic control instructions, the shape of the clouds, and how welcome the sleek, white lines of the diplomatic carrier looked the moment he reached orbit.
He felt eyes burning into
the back of his head. He glanced up and saw that Lucifer had his eerie silver eyes fixated on him.
"Quite a celebration the Tokoloshe held for me, don't you think, Eligor?" Lucifer asked, his upper lip twitching in a suppressed smirk.
"Yes, Sir," Eligor said.
'Final check on my trajectory to rendezvous with the Prince of Tyre,' he filled his mind. 'Fire inertial dampeners. Check that red warning light. Initiate docking procedures.'
Lucifer tapped lightly on the armrest of his seat. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. At last he spoke what was on his mind.
"You're very quiet this evening, Eligor. Tell me. What did you think of our new ally's celebration?"
Eligor met Lucifer's gaze reflected in the funhouse mirror of the windshield.
"I think you just saved countless hybrid lives, Sir," Eligor said. "If you can con them into holding more celebrations like that, we won't have to send our people in to kill them anymore. They seem perfectly willing to do it all themselves."
Lucifer gave him a benign smile which would have been perfect except for the hunger in his eyes.
"I like you, Eligor," Lucifer said. "I never realized you thought in such long-term plans."
"Yes, Sir," Eligor said.
He turned back to his docking procedures, guiding the shuttle into to the tight fit of the ship's launch bay. He landed, and then waited for the goons and Lucifer to descend from his shuttle.
"Eligor," Lucifer said as he was about to disappear.
"Yes, Sir?" Eligor said.
"I'll need extra time to recuperate after this stressful negotiation," Lucifer said. "Make sure nobody disturbs me. And come early, before I wake up. Zepar will give you a sedative to make sure my body rests for three days. If I do wake up, make sure I go back to bed. And no matter how much I protest, make sure I take my medicine."
"Yes, Sir," Eligor said.
He waited until Lucifer's snowy white wings disappeared down the hallway before he allowed the thought to come to the forefront of his mind.
"50cc's, you bastard," Eligor muttered to himself. "50cc's. And as soon as we get back to the Alliance, I'm convincing the Good Twin to check you both into the nearest mental hospital to find out why the fuck it always feels like I'm dealing with two completely different people!"
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 58
December, 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Pareesa
Pareesa felt numb as she watched the warriors interweave branches from the sacred cedar with date-palm trunks to build a bonfire large enough to fight back the darkness on this longest night of the year. Once upon a time their people had believed the nights grew darker because the sun was in its death throes and that, if they did not hold a vigil, the sunlight would never rise again. Once upon a time their village had believed that they needed to make sacrifice to fortify the sun gods, a human sacrifice, and that whoever cast themselves upon the fire could plead with those gods to make the sun return.
Nobody believed in such things anymore. The festival of Narduğan had taken on a different meaning during her lifetime; the longest night of the year was when they honored what had passed and made wishes for better days to come.
Her little brother Namhu had been chosen to light the fire. His face was serious as he carried the hearth fire from the temple of She-who-is and laid it reverently at the base of the pile of wood. If the fire lit instantly, it was considered a good omen. If the fire went out, it was believed bad fortune would plague their village in the coming year. They all held their breath as the fire flickered and refused to light.
Namhu sank to his knees. For a moment Pareesa thought her little brother would pray, but he committed the much more practical sin of blowing on the torch. The entire village held their breath as Namhu huffed until the flames licked past the green branches some idiot had placed at the base into the dryer wood inside. Scarlet flames began to lick at the green. Pareesa coughed as scent of burnt cedar mixed with smoke drifted her way and seeped into her lungs.
Normally at this point the villagers would have cheered, but it was all they could do to huddle closer and hold out their hands to chase away the chill. Perhaps it made them primitive, to build a pyre to draw the attention of the gods? But this year the darkness pressed ominously upon them and the people needed a symbol to keep their hope alive.
Chief Kiyan began the supplications. Immanu was oddly silent and did not step forward to invoke the goddess' blessing. Chief Kiyan was long-winded enough to fill in the gap by making his own prayers for a better future, but Pareesa was not so young that she failed to notice the anxiousness which rippled through the villagers that their shaman refused to bless them. She added her own prayers, praying Mikhail might live.
A whisper went through the crowd, telling her that her prayers had been denied. The villagers parted. A tall, solemn man moved out of the darkness into the harsh, red light of the bonfire. It was Siamek, carrying a ram, his shoulders hunched over as he came to give the news they all expected to hear. He made eye contact with Pareesa, and then turned to address the Chief.
“Mikhail is dead,” he said. “He breathed his last breath without awakening. He now is reunited with his wife.”
Needa began to keen. The other villagers moved around her, crying out their ululating zaghareet into the air. Pareesa's heart felt as though someone had carved it out and crushed it as she raised her head and added her death-cry to the wailing of the others.
Chief Kiyan placed a hand upon the shaman’s shoulder.
“Be at peace, my friend,” Chief Kiyan said. “Be happy he is now reunited with your daughter. Nobody expects a ceremony. Just speak from your heart and let the people grieve along with you.”
The villagers gathered closer to give condolences to their shaman, but Immanu pushed them all away.
"Where is she?" Immanu stalked towards Siamek and the ram. "You were told to bring her here!"
"I cast her into the pit," Siamek said. "And set the rock above it, just as I did to my own best friend. Now that we no longer need to perpetuate the ruse, the Tribunal is free to adjudicate her guilt on the morrow."
"You were supposed to knock her unconscious and bring her here!"
Pareesa looked around at the other villagers in horror. She had been worried Immanu might harm the girl he blamed for his daughter’s disappearance, but … no! He couldn’t possibly suggest a human sacrifice tonight in accordance with the ancient law!
"I brought you this ram from my father's flock to make a burnt offering of instead," Siamek said.
“A winged man fell from the sky,” Immanu hissed, “and told us, yes, there really is an Evil One who does battle against the light. And then that same Evil One came here and snatched my daughter. There is truth to the old ways after all!"
Immanu turned to face the villagers, his arms held out imploringly as he made his appeal.
"Who here doubts that darkness has fallen upon our land?" Immanu asked. He jabbed his finger in the direction of the pits. "We have amongst us a criminal who would make a fitting sacrifice to appease the gods. Let us cast her into the fire, so that she might atone for her sins!”
Siamek put down the ram, undaunted by the sacrificial blade which Immanu wielded like a man who had lost his mind.
“It is the task of the Tribunal to adjudicate Gita's guilt," Siamek said. "Not a grief-stricken father.”
Immanu gestured to Varshab and Firouz.
“You two! Go! Go drag Gita out of the pit," he gestured. "Bring her here and we shall adjudicate her guilt right now.”
A voice warbled out from the back of the crowd.
“You do not have that right, shaman!”
The villagers parted. Yalda stepped forward, the most ancient woman in the village. Her shoulders were stooped with grief and, as she walked, she leaned heavily upon her cane as though her weight had become too much for her to bear.
“You know we loved Mikhail like a son," Yalda said. "We want to hold
his killer accountable as much as you do. But the Tribunal has already discussed the matter and we have not found sufficient evidence to return a verdict of guilty."
"Then we shall vote on her guilt," Immanu shouted. "Right now!" He whirled to face his fellow villagers, the ones who had until now always considered him a compassionate man. "Who will stand with me to wreak vengeance for my daughter?"
"A sentence of death lies solely with the Tribunal," Yalda said. Her wrinkled mouth set into a determined line. "If I were forced to pass judgment upon her guilt right now, I would say she was innocent of any wrongdoing."
"As would I!"
Behnam stepped forward, the village's oldest man and one of Mikhail's eight original archers. "We are not desert savages, Immanu, as our parents once were. I, as well, have not found sufficient evidence of Gita's guilt. If I were pressed right now, I would state the child is innocent."
"But she admitted she had knowledge of a white-winged Angelic," Immanu said.
"Do not let your grief blind you, old friend, to what is good and just,” Behnam said.
"I have not been convinced as well."
Rakhshan stepped forward, the elderly flintknapper who was also the third member of the Tribunal. "The child answered all of our questions unflinchingly, including those questions which did not paint her in a favorable light. While she does admit her friend told her she'd been taken as a wife by a white-winged Angelic, she was no more aware of Ninsianna's prophecy than we were."
Immanu whirled to face the Chief.
“You can overrule them! Kiyan … she is responsible for the abduction of my daughter!”
“I will no more thwart the trial of a girl who has done nothing but try to keep the winged one alive,” Chief Kiyan's tears glistened red in the firelight like stigmata, “than I did to save my own son from banishment from this village.”
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 60
