Immanu strode forward and shoved his finger into Chief Kiyan's face.
“Because YOU did not stone your son,” Immanu shouted, “my daughter was taken and her husband murdered because your son allied with our enemies!”
Chief Kiyan hung his head in shame.
“I thwarted the hearing on the second charge,” Chief Kiyan said, “because I could not bear to watch my son die. I am sorry, old friend. I am sorry my weakness came back to haunt us. But can’t you see? Can’t you see why the observance of the law is right?”
"Which law?" Immanu said. "Your law? Or the law handed down from our fathers?"
"Our law," Chief Kiyan said. "The one you and I agreed would be our guiding light after our fathers died and left us in charge of these people."
“But if Gita is truly sorry,” Immanu's voice warbled, “she will carry word of Ninsianna’s abduction to the gods. Perhaps they will help us find her.”
Chief Kiyan shook his head.
“I forbid it,” Chief Kiyan said. “You and I, we agreed there would be no more passages through the fire. My dear, departed wife told me that to her people, all such sacrifices are considered worship of the Evil One.”
“My mother threw herself onto the fire!” Immanu jabbed his finger in the chief's face. "She did so willingly."
“She did so because your father threw her newborn daughter into the fire,” Chief Kiyan said softly, “as a sacrifice to beat back the advances of the Uruk tribe. Your mother threw herself into the fires after her child in a vain attempt to save her from the flames.”
Pareesa stared from face to face with horror. They? Had practiced. Human. Sacrifice? The very act they said made the Uruk evil?
“It worked!” Immanu hissed. “My sister’s sacrifice bought us time!”
“It worked because your father threw himself into the fire after her,” Chief Kiyan said, “and the entire village was so horrified that we went to the other shamans to beg them to eradicate the fire-ritual as an abomination against She-who-is. It was out of that agreement, and not your sister's sacrifice, for which the Ubaid allied.”
“But the old ways were the correct ones!” Immanu's voice sounded strangled. “The winged one’s appearance proves we were all once people of the heavens. If we make sacrifice to them, the old gods will return and allow us to take our place amongst the stars.”
Chief Kiyan placed his hand upon Immanu's shoulder.
“My wife's people believed the sacrifice would only work if the martyr was willing,” Chief Kiyan said. “Who shall willingly cast their life upon the fire, old friend? Will you do it? Will you cast your body upon the flames in the vain hope it will bring back your daughter?"
"She was my only child," Immanu sobbed.
"What will she do," Chief Kiyan said, "if she returns to us and learns not only is her husband lost, but now she must a raise his child without the benefit of her father?”
“Darkness has fallen across our land," Immanu said. He turned towards the temple of She-who-is. "We have lost favor with the goddess. Someone must carry our prayers to the goddess' ears.”
“Any god who needs a sacrificial victim to hear our prayers,” Chief Kiyan said, “is not a god, but a petty spirit with little power to intervene in the affairs of mortals!”
That hum of power Pareesa associated with the God of War tickled the crown of her head as though a great hand had reached down to tussle her hair. She knew what she needed to say. It was time to say it. Her heart racing, she stepped forward and dared to interrupt the two highest ranking men in the village.
“Mikhail would not want this," she shouted so that the entire village would hear. "He was a good man. He would find such a sacrifice to be an abomination.”
Immanu whirled to face her, the light from the bonfire reflecting off the white streaks in his salt and pepper hair, giving him the appearance of wearing a crown of flames.
““And what do you know, little girl? You're nothing but a thirteen summer girl?” Immanu clutched the sacrificial knife in his hand.
Pareesa sent up a prayer to the God of War to give her words adequate to meet this battle of words. She jutted out her chin, refusing to back down.
"I know the god who walked with Mikhail as his mentor speaks to me now," Pareesa said, "and he does not like your plan."
"Silence, child!" Immanu snapped. "What do you know about the spirit realms?"
Siamek stepped forward, he who loathed being the center of attention almost as much as Mikhail had, and gestured to the people who vacillated with indecision between the shaman who had, until now, always led them wisely and a thirteen summer girl.
"Let her speak!" Siamek said. "Before he died, Mikhail gave his blessing to anoint Pareesa with his sword. She is his protégé, and every person in this village knows she speaks with his voice!"
The villagers nodded and whispered amongst themselves. They would let her speak. Could she speak? Pareesa gulped at her inadequacy.
“I know that Mikhail treated everybody fairly,” Pareesa spoke gently, her eyes filled with tears. “And that each life was sacred to him, from the highest Chief all the way down to the lowest person in the village. I know this Emperor he spoke of is a compassionate god, who always tries to do what is right; and that neither Mikhail, nor the god he served, would want this thing, this abomination which Immanu proposes. “
She turned to make eye contact with the villagers.
"I know that if Mikhail were to rise up from his deathbed right now," Pareesa said, "and see what Immanu proposes, that he would be sickened. He would fly back to his god and tell him that all of humanity is primitive, not worthy to take their place amongst the legions of heaven he'd hoped to call down to save us."
Immanu's lowered the sacrificial blade perilously close to Pareesa's chest, but he did not hold it as if he wished to smite her.
"I know that Mikhail looked to you to be a father, Immanu," Pareesa lowered her voice, "and that if he saw his father commit such a heinous act, that he would be ashamed. He would retreat back to the place from whence he'd come, and he would not help us evermore."
A low, guttural groan escaped Immanu's throat, not a cry of anger, but the grief of a father who had just lost everything.
“Make a sacrifice, Immanu,” Pareesa reached up and placed her hand around his hand, the hand which held the knife. “Make a sacrifice of the ram. And then we shall roast its flesh upon the bonfire and share it with the entire village, to make a feast in Mikhail’s honor, to honor his passage back unto the heavens from whence he came."
She turned to the other villagers, the words flowing which had been whispered to her earlier by the God of War.
"The new laws are the better ones," Pareesa said. "It is what Mikhail would want. It is how he would wish for us to remember his life."
She turned to face Needa, who stood alone.
"It is how Ninsianna would wish for us to remember her life.”
Tears slid down Needa's cheeks. Needa nodded. Needa, like her, had held out hope until the very end.
Pareesa moved to stand directly in front of the fire and drew Mikhail's sword. It reflected white despite the bright-orange flames of the bonfire in front of it. She held it upright and pointed it at the moonless sky.
"When I threw myself into battle, alone, in a desperate attempt to save Mikhail's life," Pareesa said. She looked beyond them into the memory she wished to tell them about now, "I was willing. I was willing to sacrifice myself and die. But at one point I realized I had done a rash thing, and my courage faltered, and my heart filled up with dread. I was afraid, because I knew I was about to die, and I feared what would happen when I moved from this world into the next."
She turned to face Immanu, Ninsianna's poor grief-stricken father.
"But then the old god spoke to me," Pareesa said. "A vision, more powerful than even one of your visions, shaman."
She turned to face the crowd, the people who stood at a crossroads between the old ways and the new. Would t
hey return to the old ways, or would they follow her into the future which Mikhail had come here to teach them? The fire crackled and sent up sparks as though it wished to shout, look! Pay attention!
"The battlefield grew far away," Pareesa said, "and all of a sudden I was standing in a Hall of Heroes; a sacred place where the bravest are carried after they die to spend eternity watching over the lives of the living; to whisper courage to them and solutions to their problems; to on dire occasions intervene, just as the Old God did for me, so that no mortal who ever held that hero in their heart would be abandoned to die alone."
Tears streaked down her cheeks and fell onto her arm. She used her shawl to wipe the snot from her nose and gasped for breath, for in the end she had failed, but in a way, she also knew that she had not.
"To die alone," Pareesa whispered. "Alone. It was the only thing Mikhail ever feared."
The silence stretched out, with only the sound of the green wood crackling in the fire.
"The old god told me that if my battle to save Mikhail that night failed," Pareesa said. "And we both fell beneath the war clubs of our enemies, that he would carry Mikhail's spirit to dwell in that sacred place, and that I could join him, me, a thirteen summer girl, because I had sacrificed my life willingly, not to seek favor from the gods, but because I loved him with every ounce of my being."
The fire burned brighter as at last it reached some internal point of combustion and burned, not scrub brush anymore, but wood, actual real wood, the purest fuel upon which any sacred fire could burn. It burned bright white, radiating out its heat and light to illuminate the square. The faces of the villagers glistened, entranced, as though they could see this place she described reflected in the brightness of the fire.
"The old god said," Pareesa sniffled. She faltered. Her entire body shuddering as she tried to find the strength to continue, but the village had grown silent, waiting for her to finish what she had to say.
She gasped for breath then held the sword aloft once more, praying for the strength, the wisdom, the voice to say what she needed to say.
"The old god told me," Pareesa said, "that when Mikhail was a little boy, that the Evil One came and exterminated all his people. The reason he was sent to train with the Cherubim was because there was no one left to care for him, a boy whose people had gone ahead without him."
She turned back to Immanu and his grieving wife.
"You took him in as your son," Pareesa said. She whirled towards Yalda and Zhila. "You became the grandmothers to replace the one he remembered only vaguely." She pointed at Behnam, the ancient archer. "You were his sounding board." She whirled to Chief Kiyan. "You his mentor." She turned to Siamek. "And in the end, at last he began to trust you."
Siamek began to shudder with tears.
Pareesa whirled to face the other villagers. "You, Namhu, he admired your spunk. And you, Yadiditum, never had he trained a more unlikely archer, but he was proud of you, a gentle weaver who wished she possessed a warrior's heart."
She whirled to other villagers, words flowing from her mouth with connections each life Mikhail had touched within the village. You … he did this for. You … he taught that. This person he carried water for. That person he built a levy.
"Every person in this village accepted him as one of ours," Pareesa said. "So he became ours. Now that he dwells within this Hall of Heroes, he is still ours, because we are his people. We are the ones who welcomed him and blessed him with the family he had lost."
She realized she was shouting, and she did not care. She could see it. She could see the entrance open up in the fire to reveal the place she described, this Hall of Heroes where winged creatures mingled with countless other species the likes of which she could never have imagined.
"I can see them," Pareesa shouted. "I can see this place where Mikhail will always live, and if you are brave, if you love him as much as I did and live bravely by the lessons he taught us, he will watch over us, he will listen for our prayers and whisper guidance when we are weak so that, unlike him, we shall never have to fear that we will die alone."
She turned to Immanu, his hair no longer reflecting red, but white, nothing but a shaman with salt-and-pepper hair.
"He will watch over us because we love him," Pareesa said. "And whether Ninsianna is alive or dead, he will find a way to help her, because he is our Champion and death is no obstacle when you die a hero."
She held his sword upright towards the moon.
"Right action!" she shouted. She looked at Siamek, praying he would understand what she was trying to do.
"Right action!" it was Ebad who returned her call.
"Right action!" Siamek shouted.
Pareesa recited the words to the prayer the old god had whispered to her after she had taken Mikhail's sword.
Heaven and Earth are my parents;
Awareness is my home;
My own good character is my source of magic;
And the path of honor my road;
The flash of lightning illuminates my eyes;
The winds whisper wisdom in my ears;
Unshadowed thought is my strategy divine;
To make the pathway clear
Opportunity is my design;
Emptiness and fullness my tactics;
An absence of self is my personal sword;
And noble action my practice;
Let righteousness always be my armor;
And benevolence be my shield;
Let the tides of virtue decide life and death;
As to who prevails on the battlefield
She repeated the prayer to the righteous again. Some of the warriors began to pick up and murmur the words. She repeated it a third time. This time, more of the villagers began to memorize the words. On the fourth try, the entire village began to shout the prayer the old god had taught her. The path of a righteous warrior. The path Mikhail would urge them to follow had he lived.
Pareesa stuck the point of the blade into the flame, into the hall she could see reflected within it, to the place she knew Mikhail belonged.
"To Mikhail!" she shouted. "He shall live forever so long as we remember his name. May he never forget, in turn, that he is much beloved by humanity."
"Mikhail!" the villagers shouted
Immanu threw his arms around her and sobbed. She held him, Ninsianna’s grief-stricken father, until at last his sobbing subsided.
The ram wriggled out of Siamek's grasp and broke away.
“Go after it!” Chief Kiyan said.
Siamek did not move.
“I think I will let it go,” Siamek said. “Let us begin this new year with an act of mercy. It is the kind of sacrifice Mikhail would have wanted to memorialize his life. Mikhail. Angelic of Mercy.”
“Mikhail,” Pareesa realized this symbol was a more fitting one. “Angelic of Mercy!”
“Mikhail! Mikhail! Mikhail!” the villagers began to chant.
Immanu turned to the chief, his wild salt-and-pepper hair glowing more salt then pepper in the torchlight. Pareesa realized that overnight, Ninsianna's father had aged.
“What do I do now?” Immanu stared into the fire.
“We shall tell stories about his greatness," Chief Kiyan said. "And celebrate his ascension into the next realm." He pointed to the bonfire. “We have lit a magnificent beacon to help him find his way to this place Pareesa has described. The rest is up to him.”
"Mikhail! Mikhail! Mikhail!" the villagers chanted.
The fire burned higher, brighter than she had ever seen. Flames shot into the air and showered sparks which illuminated the village, but when the sparks touched the people's skin, none of the people were burned.
Pareesa leaned into Ebad. His slipped his one good arm around her and then, gingerly, with the injured arm he still wore in a sling, drew her into his embrace and comforted her.
All around her, the villagers mourned Mikhail's loss, but also celebrated it. It was as if each spark which ascended out of the bonfire carried a ti
ny piece of the people's love, and each of those sparks sped skywards towards him, carrying their good wishes, carrying their wish that he would not forget them now that he'd become immortal. In death, the old god had promised her, Mikhail would be even more powerful than he'd been to them alive.
Why, then, did it feel as though her heart had just been ripped out of her chest.
“What do I do now?” Pareesa wept.
“We tell stories about him until the dawn comes,” Ebad kissed her forehead. “We tell stories about how heroic he was, and how very much he loved his wife. And then come morning, we shall bury his body amongst our ancestors so that, even though he has returned to the heavens, he will not forget that once upon a time he was loved by humans.”
With a sorrowful nod, Pareesa sank into Ebad's arms and allowed herself to succumb to her grief.
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 59
December, 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Mikhail
It is said that when you die, all illusions are stripped away and the soul is sent naked into eternity, for nothing can make that journey across the void but spirit; the only emotion which can exist there is love. It is said that time has no meaning there, and as you cross over, the spirit who loves you most will stand there to greet you, whether they have died before you, or you have died before them, and you shall greet this spirit and recognize them so you can intertwine your souls and make the journey together.
He'd always known he would make this journey alone, but as he stood ready to change form, for some reason the void no longer held any terror. He felt no pain. He could not even feel the hunger which had plagued him for as long as he had existed because. He dwelled in darkness, but all around him he felt a shield of love.
A single spark appeared and gently descended to settle upon his brow.
Breathe.
He took a breath and the pain came back, but it wasn't as sharp as it had been before. His heart fluttered once again and died. Something warm pressed against his body. More sparks came out of the darkness and settled all around him.
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 61
