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

by Anna Erishkigal

  "Specialist Tasleem, my Lord," the lizard hissed. "Sir? How do I know it is really you?"

  "You will know it is me when not only are you denied the opportunity to take a wife," Ba'al Zebub growled, "but every one of your brothers."

  There was a tense moment of silence.

  "Tyre shuttle-1," the lizard finally hissed. "You have been given permission to fly straight to the base, but if you veer off-course, General Hudhafah has given us authorization to blow you out of the sky."

  Eligor closed the heat shields over the windshield, relying upon instrumentation to make this part of the descent. The shuttle grew warm as atmospheric friction glowed red into the tiny side-portals, coloring Ba'al Zebub's green skin to make him look like a gigantic, purple dinosaur. At last they hit the stratosphere. Eligor opened the heat shield so he could see where he was flying. It was nighttime on this part of the planet, pitch black without the light-grids of a civilized world. Lucifer was right about one thing. If the Eternal Emperor ever got his hands on this planet, he'd declare it off-limits in a heartbeat. These people hadn't even invented iron weapons yet!

  He set down in the Sata'anic Forward Operating Base. Even with his limited formal military experience, he could see that things on the FOB were not well. The lizards lit up a flight circle for him to land, but beyond that the base was curiously dark. What lights existed were bonfires and torches, and all of the Sata'anic shuttles were lined up, wing-to-wing, not out on missions the way they usually were whenever Shay'tan annexed a new planet. Eligor had no idea why the supply armada had lingered at the wormhole bridge, but it had, and the Sata'anic base appeared to be the worse for it.

  'Good…' he thought. Just because he didn’t hate the lizards the way some of the enlisted men did, didn't mean he liked them, either. They were enemies of the Alliance, and the only use he saw for them was when Lucifer needed to bamboozle them into helping him fend off and even bigger threat. Like the Tokoloshe…

  The ones embedded with the armada which was hot on their tail…

  Yet one more reason to get this over with so he could get the puppet prince back someplace where a doc could shrink his head.

  Ba'al Zebub heaved his girth up out of his seat and waddled to the hatch. Eligor glanced back to make sure Furcas and Pruflas had positioned themselves to defend the door in case this thing headed south. The dead-eyed goons gave him a subtle nod. Eligor scanned the perimeter of the ship using his eyeballs and the cameras. It was hard to see with the runway lit up so poorly, but neither the infra-red nor the heat-seeking sensors picked up anybody standing anyplace other than where they were supposed to be.

  He released the door latch. The ramp slid down. This was a fairly sizeable shuttle, complete with a cargo hold, a bunk room, a full bathroom and a miniature kitchenette for long-haul runs, but when Ba'al Zebub walked, he was so obese it made the entire ship shudder. Eligor secured the cockpit, and then hurried aft to provide a third gun.

  "General Hudhafah!" Ba'al Zebub hissed in the Sata'anic language. "As I promised, I have returned."

  "Where's my armada?" the burly lizard general growled, straight to the point as always. His sturdy tail hung behind him, not tucked up as was normally the case when a subordinate spoke to a superior.

  "It's about three weeks behind us," Ba'al Zebub said. "They experienced delays coming around the Monoceros Ring, but now they're on their way."

  "The armada is nearly five months behind schedule," Hudhafah hissed. "Do you have any idea what deficiencies my men have suffered because that idiot positioned his ships to cut off my supply routes?"

  Eligor didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until that point. Okay. Hudhafah still didn't know that both Lucifer and Ba'al Zebub were considered renegades by their respective empires.

  "General Hudhafah," Lucifer purred with mock charm. He flung out his arms in a magnanimous gesture as though he embraced the entire galaxy. "It's so very nice to meet you again."

  "I don't know what you're up to, Angelic," Hudhafah growled. "And I don't like it."

  "It's not up to you to like it," Ba'al Zebub hissed smoothly. "Only to obey, Shay'tan be praised."

  Hudhafah and the entire contingent of lizards who'd come with him made the prayer-gesture to their foreheads, their snouts, and their chests, repeating the familiar adulation. If ever Eligor needed any proof the gods weren't omniscient, it was the fact these men praised Ba'al Zebub.

  Lucifer glided down the off-ramp, white wings extended so they picked up the light from the bonfires and made it appear he radiated sunlight from his feathers. Yeah, sure, Eligor had white wings too, but when Lucifer did that, he always looked so … regal.

  "Come, General," Lucifer's expression was that of a father speaking to a son. "Let's not quarrel. We have excellent news! But not out here. Let us meet someplace secure, and then I would appreciate a tour of your female training academies."

  Eligor trailed behind them, pretending not to listen, until they disappeared into a crude stone building. He leaned against the rough-hewn stones, surveying the landscape as he got his first-ever look at an ongoing Sata'anic annexation that wasn't fighting to fend off them. Two burly Marid guards had been assigned to babysit him. The blue-men stared at him in silence, neither hostile nor friendly.

  A small, slender lizard scurried out of the building. A short while later, he came back with a tall, swarthy-complexioned human male wearing a combination of Sata'anic and Angelic clothing. It took Eligor a moment to recognize that the man beneath the short-cropped hair, his face shaved and wearing an abundance of modern weaponry, was none other than Lucifer's angry young chieftain, the one who had tried to bury a knife into his chest.

  Lieutenant Kasib stopped in front of Eligor.

  "Your master requested that you search this man for weapons this time," Kasib said in Galactic Standard.

  "What? He doesn't trust you after the last time you dropped the ball?" Eligor asked. He turned to the man. "Okay. Tell him to spread 'em so I can frisk him for a knife."

  The man responded without being asked.

  "I see you've got him trained," Eligor chuckled.

  The olive-skinned man met his gaze, his obsidian black eyes filled with a hint of anger.

  "I … no … stupid," he spoke in halting Galactic Standard. "You want search? Search. I no make …trouble … for Alliance … Príomh-Aire."

  Eligor raised an eyebrow. So? Lucifer's pet had picked up a bit of Galactic Standard since they'd left him? Had Kasib taught him just that phrase? Or had was he fluent like Ninsianna was?

  "Take off your coat," Eligor ordered. "Now spread your arms and legs. I'm going to pat you down."

  The man did as he was told. Eligor told him to remove his pulse rifle, which by the green indicator was fully charged. Recognition niggled at his brain as he pulled a knife out of a belt-holster and recognized the bejeweled handle.

  "Where did you get this?" Eligor asked.

  "Príomh-Aire ... give ... to me ... when I give him ... wife," the man said.

  "Ninsianna?" Eligor asked.

  Emotions danced across the black-eyed man's face, anger, sadness, and then a grim expression.

  "Shahla," the man said. "She die..." He struggled to find the words. "She ... lure ... Mikhail ... into trap." He pointed to the other side of the tarmck. "She buried ... over there."

  Oh. Her. He'd forgotten all about her until Ninsianna had mentioned her, the one who'd suffered from the same mental ailment as Lucifer. It was just as well she'd died before setting Lucifer's seed. That's all the Alliance needed was an heir with two nutso parents.

  "No matter," Eligor said. "You can't take the knife into the meeting."

  The black-eyed man's jaw tightened in a grim line. He might have been shorter than Eligor, but the authority he carried reminded him of Lucifer.

  "She ... matter," the man hissed. He pointed at Lieutenant Kasib. "They ... say ... protect her. She die. Lucifer ... he answer ... questions. Or else. He give me ... back ... Ninsianna." />
  Kasib nervously tasted the air, but curiously, the lizard did not contradict that accusation. Nor did the black-eyed man use the hissing Sata'anic language even though it was obviously the more comfortable of the two languages for him to speak.

  "I'm still not letting you take in a knife," Eligor said. He noted the man's hostile stance. "You can't blame me, after what happened the last time. You'll get it back as soon as you're no longer in the Prime Minister's presence."

  The black-eyed man relented and let him take the knife. He then followed Kasib into the building, leaving Eligor to twiddle his thumbs. A short while later, his comms pin chirped.

  "Sir?" Eligor asked.

  "Eligor?" Lucifer's voice was filled with false warmth. "Could you do me a favor? Go back to the ship and retrieve those two FTL drive cores I asked you to bring?"

  "Yes, Sir," Eligor said. The two Marid guards followed him back to the shuttle and watched him like a hawk as he retrieved the two FTL cores. They disappeared with them the moment they verified they weren't booby-trapped. He waited at the ship until Lucifer came back, sans Ba'al Zebub, with Furcas and Pruflas in tow.

  And another person. The black-eyed man...

  Eligor watched their reflection in the windshield as Lucifer spoke warmly to the man in a language he couldn't understand. A few moments later, the lizards appeared with seventeen human females, the maximum number the shuttle could accomodate. The human male spoke to them in yet another language, ordering them to buckle up, as Eligor spooled up the engines to return to the Prince of Tyre.

  The shuttle vibrated as he prepared for liftoff. It suprised him when Lucifer moved up to the empty co-pilot's seat and buckled himself in beside him. Eligor filled his mind with thoughts of the flight procedures necessary for liftoff.

  "So, Eligor," Lucifer gave him a grin that reminded him of a predator about to hunt its lunch. "Which one do you favor?"

  Eligor glanced back at the seventeen women, perhaps not as breathtaking as the tall, statuesque Angelic women, but each striking in their own, exotic way. He did not state, the Colonel's widow. He'd known all along that that one was not up for grabs. So, absent that wish, the question wasn't which one he favored, but which ones would end up getting their minds broken when Lucifer took them to his bed.

  "I want a smart one," Eligor said. He met Lucifer's gaze. "Not one of your left-overs. I hate fucking something that is stupid."

  His petty rebellion seemed to amuse Lucifer rather than piss him off. Had it been the good twin, Lucifer would have been annoyed, but the evil twin seemed to enjoy a bit of verbal sparring.

  "Furcas and Pruflas get first pick," Lucifer said. "After that, I shall let you pick a favorite. We'll have a little Eligor in the oven in no time."

  "And what if she doesn't like me?" Eligor said.

  Lucifer's cold, hard gaze reminded him of a man about to enjoy a tasty meal. He glanced back, not at the women, but at the black-eyed human male who flitted between the women, reassuring them they had nothing to fear.

  "Then that is the one that I want," Lucifer said. "I always prefer the ones who fight. It makes their submission so much sweeter."

  Eligor fired the engines and blasted them all back into the troposphere.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter 90

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,324.02 AE

  Victor Sector: HMS Beylan

  Leonid Major Orias

  Orias

  The commander of the HMS Beylan was a fierce lioness, protective of the colonies her pride of Leonids and their Spiderid brothers defended, and even more protective to the Alliance ideals those colonies wished to live by. She was not, however, naïve enough to follow Parliament blindly, especially when it came over the news that General Abaddon had taken a sizeable chunk of their fleet and disappeared.

  Orias sighed and passed the salt to her daughter, Habibas.

  "If only Lucifer was still alive," Orias rumbled deep in her chest.

  Habibas' golden, furry ears jutted forward in surprise.

  "You're kidding," Habibas asked. "Right mother?"

  "Why, no…" Orias said. She flexed her claws. "Why?"

  Habibas showed her fangs.

  "Babajidas told me what Lucifer did to him to break him before he turned him over to us," Habibas growled. "He still bears claw marks down his back."

  "He tortured him?" Orias picked at her claws. Torture was against Alliance law, but occasionally the Leonids enjoyed taunting informants with the threat of dismemberment.

  "What Lucifer did to him was much, much worse," Habibas said. Her whiskers jutted forward. "Mama … he is so ashamed that he says he can never face his own people again."

  "What did Lucifer do, leon beag?" Orias asked.

  Habibas told her.

  Orias' jaw dropped, leaving her tongue lolling out of her mouth like some stupid wild animal.

  "Lucifer did what to him?"

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter 91

  February: 3,389 BC

  Earth: Mesopotamian Plain

  Jamin

  Jamin crept through the tall, Mesopotamian grasses, stalking the lion which was his prey. It was a magnificent male, as big as any he'd ever seen, with paws as large as his face and a red mane which framed its head like the rays of the sun.

  "Shhh…" Jamin gestured for Lucifer to creep forward. "Tuck your wings against your back. We're downwind, but if he sees you, he will attack."

  "That's what this is for." Lucifer's handsome features curved up into a grin. He pointed to his golden pulse rifle, the one he had used to teach Jamin to shoot.

  Jamin met his eerie silver eyes.

  "You said you wanted to hunt lions like a native," Jamin said. He held up his spear. "Now prove it."

  "You are so passionate about everything you do, little chieftain," Lucifer laughed. He flopped down carelessly upon the ground, his wings strewn out beneath him like a white, fluffy blanket. "When I said I wanted to hunt the lion ancestor of our Leonids, I had no idea you meant to do so with a primitive weapon."

  Jamin snorted with disgust.

  "In my culture, a real man hunts lions using nothing but a knife!"

  "And how many of these lions have you killed with such methods, little chieftain?"

  "With a knife?" Jamin said. "Just one."

  "Why kill one when you could kill as many as you like?" Lucifer asked. He studied Jamin as though he found him fascinating.

  "I have killed many lions," Jamin said. "As well as hyenas, auroch, and crocodiles. But I have only killed one lion with a knife, and that is the one which marks me as a man."

  Lucifer reached out and touched his chin, turning his face from one side to the other, studying it. Jamin jerked back his head. He didn't know what to make of the Alliance Príomh-Aire, but he suspected he was a man who favored other men.

  Well he'd teach Lucifer what it meant to be a real man.

  "Come," Jamin said. "We need to get closer."

  Keeping his spear low, he crept forward, closer to the lion that was their quarry. Whatever Lucifer had given Hudhafah to release him from his slave-bond, he owed him. If the man wanted him to repay him by teaching him to hunt lions, then that is what he'd do. Lucifer rolled over and crept up behind him, stalking a different prey, he suspected. Jamin pushed the thought out of his mind.

  "How would you like to kill him," Jamin asked. "The spear would be safer. There is no shame in using the spear. For you, it would be like for me to kill him with a knife."

  "I want to see you kill him," Lucifer said. He stared at him with a hungry look, a spectator eager to witness a blood sport.

  "I thought you wanted to hunt the lion?" Jamin said.

  "I did," Lucifer said. "But in my years, I have taken on far fiercer creatures than this. It is how you do it which fascinates me."

  Jamin stiffened. "Is this a test?"

  Lucifer sized him up, the alpha-predator, the brightest and most beautiful of all the Angelics.

  "I wish to see if you
are as fearless as you seem, little chieftain," Lucifer said softly. "Everywhere I go, I find myself surrounded by lesser men. When you've lived as long as I have, when you see somebody who reminds you of yourself, you learn to hang onto them, for those spirits are few and far between."

  There was a great loneliness in Lucifer's words. This time, when he touched Jamin's face, Jamin did not pull away.

  "Show me. Show me you are brave enough to fight a dragon," Lucifer said. "And I shall lay this world at your feet for you to conquer."

  Jamin swallowed. Lucifer projected an image into his mind of walking down the gangplank of a sky canoe, the Ubaid cheering as he returned to them laden down with gold and lion skins. In the image, his father embraced him and told him he'd been wrong to cast him out. In the image, Ninsianna ran up and told him that she loved him.

  It was that thought which kicked him out of the daydream.

  "Ninsianna only loves her husband," Jamin said.

  "Then I shall kill him for you," Lucifer stated flatly. "His Seraphim sub-species was an abomination to this universe."

  Lucifer showed him what he meant. He had wiped out the Seraphim like a man pouring boiling oil down a nest of ants, no mercy, none had escaped. They sat, crouched in the grasses together, eyes locked, until Jamin shook off the image. It was a softer image which Lucifer projected next. Ninsianna, heavy with child, her demeanor, submissive. Only this time, it was his child she carried. Jamin tried to attach an emotion in the image. To love her. To hate her. But he no longer possessed the will...

  "You don't want her anymore?" Lucifer's voice lilted with surprise.

  "If you handed her to me I would not refuse her," Jamin shrugged. He stared at the lion. "But no, not really. She hurt me, and there is no way I'd ever let that woman back into my heart."

  "I could kill her for you," Lucifer laughed. "Just think how your enemy will react with that news? That you've killed his mate?"

  "No," Jamin said.

  "But isn't it what you've always wanted?" Lucifer asked. "To watch him suffer?"