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

by Anna Erishkigal

  "Gita said it was you who finally bashed in her mother's head," Yalda said. "Why?"

  "I could not bear to watch her suffer anymore," Merariy said. He began to weep. "They intended to keep her alive for days so they could make their enemy leader suffer without ever having to defeat him in battle."

  "You made your daughter watch this," Yalda said. "And then you dragged her back to Assur. Why?"

  Merariy looked at them, his expression haunted.

  "The Amorites intended to make a burnt offering of Gita in front of her mother," Merariy said, "so she would transmit that terror to this Ghassulian king. But she was my child. I knew it the moment I lay eyes upon her and saw she had the same black eyes as my father. So I killed Zanubiya quickly, and then kidnapped Gita and dragged her back to Assur."

  Yalda and Zhila passed each other a look. It was almost done now. All they needed to do was wait.

  "Hey? How come I can't move my legs?" Merariy mumbled.

  "You drank too much too fast," Yalda said. "Come, my friend. Let us help you to your bed. And when you awaken, it will be time to bring your complaint before the Tribunal."

  "I can't wait to see the look on my brother's face," Merariy mumbled, "when he learns that his daughter could not heal him, and my daughter did."

  They helped Merariy into bed, his weight heavy as he could barely move his legs, and then they covered him up and waited until the hemlock finished its job. It was a pleasant death, far more pleasant than such a hideous man deserved.

  They gathered up the evidence of their crime, and then left stealthily, careful to exit when there was no one there to see them leave.

  "Did we do the right thing?" Yalda asked. "You know Mikhail would have taken responsibility for the girl, whether or not Merariy ever produced any proof. Mikhail knows something is amiss, and it wouldn't surprise me if he figures it out on his own."

  "It had to be done," Zhila said. "Mikhail's quest to retrieve his wife is the only thing keeping this village together right now."

  "Mikhail would rescue her no matter what," Yalda said.

  "It is Ninsianna he loves," Zhila said. "Not Gita. She is not this girl from his childhood, what was her name? Amhrán?"

  "Song," Yalda said. "The girls name meant Song. I do not think it a coincidence that that is what Gita's name means as well."

  "Ninsianna will leave him if she finds out he survived because he bonded to another," Zhila said. "You know that as surely as the sun."

  "Aye," Yalda said. She thought about Ninsianna's well-known jealous streak. "Maybe that would be for the best?"

  "What about our village?" Zhila asked. "Would you follow a man who asked you to sacrifice your life to help him rescue one wife, but while she was captured, he went and found himself another one?"

  "He was near death."

  "Do you honestly think Ninsianna will care?"

  "I suppose not," Yalda said. "But he would want to know."

  "The girl is dead," Zhila said, "no matter what Merariy says. What harm does it do, letting Mikhail be at peace? It is Ninsianna he loves, not the daughter of the village drunk."

  Yalda fiddled with the corners of her shawl-dress, her guilt weighing heavily upon her. She remembered the tear which had slipped from those sad, blue eyes, at the memory of a little girl who had not lived long enough to be his wife.

  "I will go along with this because I want what is best for him," Yalda said. "He has suffered enough. But if, as Merariy claims, the girl is still alive, then the minute Mikhail comes back from his great quest to rescue his wife, I shall sit him down and tell him the truth. I shall let him decide what he's going to do about it. Are we agreed?"

  "We are agreed," Zhila said.

  The two sisters locked their arms at the elbows, one who could barely walk, the other who was nearly blind, and made their way back through the village, carrying the basket of beer and bread they'd just used to kill a threat to their beloved adopted son.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter 86

  February: 3,389 BC

  Earth: Sata'an Forward Operating Base

  Lieutenant Kasib

  Kasib

  Lieutenant Kasib stuffed the second sack of grain into his satchel and made his way past the sentries, mindful to keep the bag tucked into his armpit to make it appear smaller. Luckily the larger sack obscured anything he carried, but he hunched over anyways, determined to appear inconspicuous.

  "Lieutenant," the two Sata'anic privates saluted who were stationed to guard the gate.

  "A-a-as you were," Kasib stuttered. He tucked his tail up and returned the men's salute even though both men were subordinates. He caught his error and pulled his hand down quickly.

  "What's in the bag?" one of the private's asked.

  Kasib stiffened. He decided to bluster his way out of his dilemma.

  "I am on an important mission for General Hudhafah," Kasib said stiffly. He forced his long, forked tongue to stay inside his mouth so as not to tip them off he was nervous, though if they tasted the air, they would scent the fear pheromones pouring out of his pores.

  "My apologies, Sir," the guard tucked his tail up against his right side. "It's just the bag, Sir? It's dripping blood down your back. I thought you might want to know so you can rinse it off before it stains your coat."

  "Th-thank you, Private," Kasib said. "It is deer. The young chieftain obtained it for a gift to give the human leaders in the village beyond. They like the revolting substance."

  All three lizards grimaced and glanced over at a small gathering of Catoplebas and Marid soldiers who loitered in front of the mess hall, some still holding the primitive weapons the young chieftain had been teaching them to use to hunt. Because of the young chieftain, they had been able to remain on friendly terms with the village beyond without resorting to instituting martial law. The young chieftain was an arrogant little peacock, but he was a smart, arrogant little peacock.

  "Sir," the two sentries saluted him a second time.

  Kasib scurried out of the gate.

  "May Shay'tan forgive me for what I do."

  The old dragon would be the last person to forgive him if he found out that he, a lonely logistics officer, was pilfering from his tribute. He made his way through Ugarit until he got to the house of the host-family who had agreed to put him up in exchange for a weekly measure of grain. For many weeks, all he'd had to give them was wood, but last week and now today he had grain and a haunch of deer. The only problem was that the young chieftain had given him one haunch of deer, but he needed to divide it equally between two households.

  He slipped into an alley and slid the large sack off of his back. Eww! Eww! Eww!!! The sentries had been right. The bag had leaked and now his trenchcoat reeked of blood! He tasted the air and pulled his tongue back in disgust, revolted that he even had to touch a dead animal. He pulled his knife out of his belt, even though in his position he rarely encountered actual combat, and sawed through the haunch of deer, nearly cutting off one of his claws in the process. How could humans eat this stuff?

  He patted the two sacks of grain. Now that was a meal fit for a king. Even Shay'tan liked porridge, though rumor had it that once upon a time the old dragon had devoured entire worlds. He prayed his emperor would forgive him for pilfering some of the tribute the angry young chieftain had brought in from the outlying villages.

  He stopped first at the house where he spent most nights and gave his housemother the grain and deer. His sleeping arrangements assured for another week, he then made his way to his real destination, Nipmeqa's house, the merchant who had been safekeeping Taram.

  Nipmeqa's wife answered the door. Kasib averted his eyes so as not to dishonor her.

  "Kasib," Donatiya said. "Please. Do come in." She immediately snatched a scarf kept next to the door and wrapped it around her head, the only concession she would make to his 'curious' Sata'anic inhibitions.

  "I have brought to you the promised payment," Kasib said.

  "Good," Donatiya sai
d. She gave him a pleased smile. "With eight mouths to feed, we can always use more. Please. Come sit by the oven. We are out of porridge, but I have a bit of bread and cheese left over if you would like a snack?"

  The house smelled of bread and pomegranate, both foods he could eat. His stomach growled. While food rations had been low, he'd taken to skipping meals so he could sneak more to Taram's host family. He was already a slender lizard by Sata'anic standards, not one of the burly, higher-ranking men who were usually deemed worthy to gift a wife. It did not behoove him to appear weaker than he already was within the hyper-masculine Sata'anic culture.

  "I would like some bread, please," Kasib said. He could digest milk if he had to, but it gave him flatulence, so he avoided it if he could. It was not the most auspicious way to endear himself to his friends.

  He set his satchel upon the table and slid out the second sack of grain; and then lay the bigger bag upon the table.

  "You will want to stick this in a cook pot right away," Kasib said. "It was caught this morning, but I cannot vouch for its storage conditions, so you will want to cook it thoroughly."

  Donatiya peeked into the bag and smiled.

  "Why thank you, Kasib," she said. "I will just hang this outside. It should be good for a couple of days."

  Kasib winced as the door shut behind her. Human food storage methods were barbaric at best, but he'd quickly learned he won no gratitude by harping on the matter. He just prayed Taram didn't suffer from food poisoning, or worse, parasites, from anything he brought her. It was regretful that Taram had not qualified for the Sata'an Female Finishing School. She would have learned about pathogens and parasites, first aid and how to make some lucky man a very beautiful wife.

  Nipmepa came down from reading his children a bedtime story and sat next to him near the oven.

  "Good evening, Nipmepa," Kasib said. "I just gave your wife the settlement for the week."

  "Taram will be down in a minute," Nipmepa said. "She likes to brush out the girl's hair and braid it each night before bed."

  Kasib glanced over at the lush, white carpet Taram had woven with her own hand. It was finished now, the only dowry she had.

  "Can she stay then?" Kasib asked.

  Nipmepa cleared his throat.

  "She is a delightful young woman," Nipmepa said. "And she is always welcome to visit us. But she is already past the age that most young women marry. You are not doing her any favors by delaying."

  His voice trembled as he asked the next words.

  "Have you found for her a suitable husband?"

  Nipmepa ran his fingers through his trimmed, light-brown beard.

  "She is blind, Kasib," Nipmepa said. "And Ugarit is not a village with an abundance of young men who would welcome a bride who cannot see. The best I have been able to find is an older man whose wife has a cross tongue. He has three consorts scattered throughout the village and twice that many children begotten upon them. Taram has caught his eye. He is willing to provide for her so long as she continues to please him."

  "But that is disrespectful!" Kasib blurted out. He shot to his feet, inadvertently whipping over the basket of clean laundry with his tail.

  "Ahh, Kasib," Nipmepa said. "Don't be upset. I have discussed this thing with Taram, and she understands she is a woman without many options. In her home village she lived with her sister, but her sister is gone now, taken as a wife for these creatures you call Angelics. It is not cruelty. Taram is pleasing, without the sharp tongue which dooms so many consort relationships. This could be a good thing for her."

  "She has agreed to this?" Kasib asked. His voice trembled as he spoke.

  "We have reached an understanding," Nipmepa said. He lowered his voice. "Unless you wish to consider the other option."

  "It is forbidden," Kasib said.

  Nipmepa shrugged. "It is your choice." He stood and gathered up the grain. "I leave you to discuss the matter with her. But I suggest you reconsider."

  The tradesman made his way out to chatter with his wife, the two of them making themselves conspicuously absent during his visits. A few moments later, he heard the children upstairs wish Taram goodnight. She climbed down the stairs, into the multi-purpose room, her hand out in front of her to feel her way through the gauntlet of the room, but she had long ago memorized where things belonged.

  "Kasib," Taram said. She touched his arm, and then slid her fingers up his shoulder to his face, 'seeing' with her fingers what her eyes were incapable of seeing.

  Kasib trembled as her fingertips slid down his skin to touch his snout. In Sata'anic culture, such contact was only reserved between a husband and a wife, and it did things to him, jumbled up his thoughts and made it hard to think straight.

  Satisfied with her 'seeing,' Taram sat down on the bench next to him, far closer than was permissible had they been on Hades-6.

  "Our problem with our supply line has been alleviated," Kasib said. "I was able to bring Donatiya plenty of grain to feed the children."

  "I am grateful for your efforts," Taram said. Her lips turned downwards in a sad quiver. "Nipmepa said he was going to talk to you?"

  "He did," Kasib said.

  There was an awkward silence.

  "Is that what you wish for me to do?" Her lip trembled as she spoke, and tears welled into her eyes.

  A feeling akin to having his chest crushed in the hydraulic door of a shuttlecraft stole away his words.

  "I wish for you to be happy," Kasib finally managed to squeak out.

  Taram ran her fingers up to his sensitive ear-holes.

  "Don't you like me, Kasib?" Taram asked.

  "I-I-I like you very much," Kasib stuttered. "I have grown very attached to you."

  "Then why must you send me away? To a man I do not love?"

  Her hand upon his cheek did things to him, forbidden, awkward things that made it feel as though he might molt right out of his skin when it wasn't even the molting season yet.

  "Who will care for you after Shay'tan orders me to leave this planet?" Kasib asked.

  "Can't you stay?" Taram asked. "I thought you said our world would be part of your empire?"

  "Someone will stay," Kasib said. "But my fate is attached to that of General Hudhafah. He is a very important man. Shay'tan won't leave him stranded on this planet for long."

  "Couldn't you just ask to be assigned to someone else?"

  Ask to be assigned to somebody else? Who would he be assigned to? A lesser man? Yes. A lesser man. There were no greater men than General Hudhafah for a modest lizard such as himself to be assigned to, so it would have to be a lesser man.

  No. His superiors would suspect something. Nobody asked to be assigned to a lesser man. Only to a greater one. What would Shay'tan do to him if he … if he…

  "Don't you understand?" Kasib said, his voice anguished. "What you propose is forbidden!"

  "Why?"

  "Because I am not worthy to take a wife," Kasib said. "My family is nothing and I am not brave or powerful."

  "And I am not worthy to take a husband," Taram said. She nestled closer to him and lay her head upon his shoulder. "That makes us two of a kind, doesn't it?"

  "But all cross-species marriages are forbidden," Kasib said.

  "Why?"

  Kasib stared up the stairs, to where Nipmeqa's eight children slept, not a large brood by Sata'anic standards, but very large by human ones.

  "Because all cross-species marriages are sterile," Kasib whispered. "And the purpose for marital relations is to bear offspring to perpetuate the glory of the Empire."

  Taram sighed.

  "I guess you are right," Taram said. "I would not want to deny you the chance to have children of your own."

  "It is not me I worry about," Kasib said, "but you. What will you do, if you can never become a mother?"

  "I would love somebody else's children," Taram sighed. "Just as I do right now."

  Kasib hesitated, and then put his arm around her, allowing her to lay her cheek down upon
his chest. She snuggled into his side as if he was her hero. Her scent was intoxicating, the pheromones he had learned to interpret as human contentment.

  "What do you want to do?" Kasib asked at last.

  Taram lifted her head and stared at his mouth, the source of his voice as she could not see him speak. Her fingers moved up to touch his lips. Not for the first time, he wondered why she wasn't revolted by his appearance the way the other human females were.

  "I would rather take however many days I can get with you as my husband," Taram whispered. "Then spend an eternity in comfort with a man I do not love."

  Kasib blinked, knowing that he had already made the choice a long time ago. It had just taken him this long to realize he was really quite brave.

  "Our marriage would not be blessed by Shay'tan," Kasib said.

  "We have tons of gods," Taram giggled. "Pick one!"

  He kissed her then, the first time he had ever kissed a woman. And then he called Nipmepa, and asked him to summon a priest.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter 87

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,324.02 AE

  Monoceros Ring: Eternal Light

  Former Supreme Commander-General Jophiel

  Jophiel

  There were few stars this far from the supermassive black hole which stabilized the center of the Milky Way galaxy, and what stars did exist were largely red giants, ancient stars which were on the verge of collapse. The Eternal Light was an easy target out here in the sparse stellar matter beyond the outermost spiral arms, so Jophiel ordered her crew to skirt the slender Monoceros Ring which wrapped around the entire galaxy. It provided little cover should somebody deliberately search for her ship, but this was the last place anybody would come looking for them. According to Hasdiel's testimony, this was the location of the ships which had disappeared carrying much of the Alliance's wealth.

  "Sir?" Major Klik'rr said. "We are picking up a transmission."

  "Subspace?" Jophiel asked.

  "No," Klik'rr said. "It appears to be a shortwave radio transmission."