Lucifer bent and whispered something into Jamin's ear. Tears welled into Ninsianna’s eyes. His expression so tender it reminded her a bit of Mikhail. She could not see the compulsion that Lucifer whispered to his lover, but she could feel it. She could feel Lucifer channel the light of She-who-is, the light that she, herself had been cut off from, as he pleaded with his lover to live. By cutting off her ability to see the light, the Evil One had inadvertently forced her to feel her way into the dark, and with her mother's gift of empathy, she could feel that point of light, buried deep within the darkness, as Lucifer took what little light he had and gave it to his lover.
Something invisible moved against her legs. Jumping. Excited. A different darkness had followed Jamin onto this ship, had trailed him for months, and had understood that Jamin was its best chance to find her again. The Dark Lord’s shadow cat licked her legs, overjoyed to find her, and she, for once, did not cringe. As it touched her, it reminded her of the Dark Lord’s words.
‘How can you heal this wound if you fear the dark?’
Ninsianna’s terror disappeared. She was more than just a healer. She was a shaman, descended from Lugalbanda, a warrior-shaman so powerful he could reach right out and stop the heart of his enemies, and she, Ninsianna, had been Chosen by She-who-is herself. It was not the light she must look to, but pierce the darkness to find the soul which Lucifer had sold unto the devil.
Taking a deep breath to shore her resolve, she squared her shoulders and stepped out to see what she could do to help.
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 106
February: 3,389 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Mikhail
Mikhail frowned as he passed through the north gate of the village and saw that the gate had been reduced to splinters. He swooped down to the gatehouse and spoke to the old man who'd appointed himself guardian, even though that hadn't been his job for decades by the wrinkled appearance of his skin.
"What happened here?" Mikhail asked as soon as his feet touched the ground.
"A sky canoe came and shot it with its lightning," the old man said.
"Which ship was it?"
"The white one," the old man said. "It shot the gate open so the white-winged Angelic could escape."
"A white-winged Angelic?"
Mikhail's mind raced. There was only one white-winged Angelic he was aware of, and both the Sata'anic prisoners, and the Chief's own son, had all claimed it was his own Prime Minister.
"Yes," the old man said. He held up an ancient atlatl. "We shot at him with these, but he walked out the gate and escaped into the sky canoe."
Mikhail wracked his brains. "Did you say walked?"
"Yes, walked," the old man said. "He was carrying someone, but I couldn't see who it was. We got him, though. Musta shot him at least a dozen times."
Was it really Lucifer, as Jamin had claimed? Or had someone seized the Alliance flagship and was travelling around the galaxy, masquerading as Lucifer to stir up an intergalactic incident? Yes. The second scenario seemed the more logical of the two, especially as the last thing he could picture was the Alliance's prima donna Prime Minister walking into an active war zone.
"Which way did it go?" Mikhail asked.
The old man pointed up. "As soon as he got inside, the sky canoe ascended into the heavens."
"Did it go north, or west?" Mikhail asked, remembering what Dadbeh had said about the exact location of the Sata'anic Forward Operating Base.
"It went up," the old man said. He pointed up, straight up, up as in breached the atmosphere up. The Alliance devil-cruiser must have returned to the Prince of Tyre.
Mikhail thanked the man and leaped back into the air, hugging the rooftops so the Sata'anic soldiers patrolling below would not see him and radio the others that he'd returned. The tips of his feathers struck the interwoven reeds which made up the roofs of Ubaid houses. Whenever he passed over an archer, they gave him a thumbs-up and allowed him to pass without shouting, understanding that stealth was the biggest gift he could give them. The Eternal Emperor preferred white wings that blended into the clouds, but Mikhail had been born with dark wings, wings which blended into the muted colors of the planet which was now his home.
That peculiar sense of knowing he'd had ever since he'd woken up told him he'd find Pareesa pinned down just outside the third defensive barricade. She and Ebad crouched together against a wall, using some rubble for cover, cut off when the group had retreated. The enemy had moved ahead to begin assailing the final barricade, but a unit had stayed behind to take out the human threat which fired arrows into their soldier's backs.
Mikhail spread his feathers to slow his airspeed and dropped quietly onto a rooftop to assess the situation. Three of the enemy grouped together behind the collapsed wall of a house, while off to one side, a fourth soldier shot so rapidly that Pareesa dared not stick her head up long enough to draw her bow. Mikhail's hand slipped automatically to his pulse rifle, but the holster was empty, his weapon lost when he'd fired his last shot at the Sata'anic gunship. All he had was his sword. If he simply landed, the pig-man would cut him down before he could deal with the other three.
A strange sensation of rejoicing came out of nowhere as, before his eyes, the Catoblepas’s own shadow erupted from the ground, rose up behind him like a cobra, and buried a knife into its jugular. Mikhail blinked. Just as silently the shadow sank back into the dust again, unseen no matter how hard Mikhail stared. The only evidence it had even happened was the pig-man now lay upon the ground, grasping his throat as it gushed blood.
What the hell had that been?
The three invaders preempted his curiosity when they began rummaging furiously through their rucksacks. One of them pulled out a pulse grenade. Before they had a chance to pull the pin, he spread his wings and leaped down to prevent the enemies from killing Pareesa.
The three enemy soldiers turned on him with their pulse rifles, a weapon which would kill him if it hit him. He swung his sword to the right to decapitate his first soldier, maimed the second before he could fire, and split the skull of the third.
The second soldier, the blue-skinned Marid used his one remaining arm to raise the pulse grenade to his lips and pulled the pin out with his teeth. He sneered at Mikhail as he held the grenade out in front of him, his hand clenched around the spoon.
"May Shay'tan damn you to everlasting torment," the blue-skinned Marid hissed in the Sata'anic language.
His hand began to loosen off the lever, whispering as he did his death-prayer.
Mikhail grabbed the soldier's hand before he could release the handle and stabbed him right in the heart.
"May She-who-is grant you safe passage into the dreamtime," Mikhail said in Cherubim to the dying soldier, "and grant you peace, in the everlasting world beyond."
He took the grenade carefully from the soldier's hand and allowed him to fall before bending to find the pin. Sweat beaded down his forehead as he shoved the pin back in and tucked it into the side-pocket of his combat fatigues. Oh, goddess that had been close! Not even the dampened emotions caused by the Cherubim battle incantations could slow the pace of his pounding heart.
Pareesa and Ebad scurried out from behind their wall. Pareesa bounded up to him, still full of that maddening youthful energy, but her expression was serious, and she did not try to hug him.
"Thanks!" Pareeesa said. “We thought for a moment we were done for.”
Mikhail noted the hint of blue which tinged her brown eyes, living proof that his student had begun to master the Cherubim battle incantations.
“The night stalkers saved us,” Ebad said.
"Night stalkers?" Mikhail said.
"Yeah … over there," Ebad said. He pointed in the direction where Mikhail had seen the Catoplebas suddenly end up dead.
“How’d you get so banged up?” Pareesa interrupted.
“An exploding sky canoe,” Mikhail said. “What's the status of our defenses?”
“The en
emy appears to have more magic cartridge refills than we hoped,” Pareesa said, “but I don't think it's an unlimited supply. Since we slowed them, they have become much more judicious in their aim.”
Mikhail pointed to the four fallen soldiers. "I suggest you gather their swords and any modern weapons you can find. Even if their pulse rifles only hold a few more shots, those are shots in our favor.
"Where's your firestick?" Pareesa asked.
Mikhail grimaced.
"I lost it when I took down that last gunship," he said. "But it was out of power and not compatible with their power supply, uhm, magic square, so it wouldn't have done me any good."
Ebad jogged up and handed him one of the pulse rifles he'd just retrieved. A Sata'anic pulse rifle. Not quite as powerful as an Alliance one, but in the right hands, every bit as deadly.
"If only we had more of these," Ebad said. The potters son turned the pulse rifle this way and that, studying the feel of it in his hand.
Pareesa simply grinned. All hint of the blue which had tinged her eyes disappeared, replaced by the sparkle of his impish little fairy. Mikhail followed the direction in which she pointed.
A small, skinny man separated himself from shadows and trudged towards them, barely visible underneath the guck and sand he'd coated himself with to blend into the walls. Strung across his chest he wore a large goatskin satchel overflowing with captured pulse rifles, and in his arms he carried a heavy bundle of swords.
"Dadbeh," Pareesa gave a high-pitched squeal of delight. "I thought that was you!" She bounded up to him and practically knocked the wiry man over with a hug, causing him to drop the swords with a metallic 'thunk.' "I couldn't believe my eyes the first time the wall moved and a blue-man just fell dead with his throat cut!"
"I'm not a big man," Dadbeh grinned, "so I thought perhaps a bit of camouflage might even the odds?"
"What are you doing back?" Mikhail asked. He was well aware of the fact Dadbeh had left after his girlfriend had been killed.
Pareesa gave him a dirty look.
"I've been out searching the desert," Pareesa said, "searching for Dadbeh to beg his forgiveness for being such an ass." She jabbed a finger at Mikhail. "It's what I was doing the day I stumbled across that Uruk raiding party, the ones that tried to stab you in your sleep."
Mikhail rustled his feathers, not certain how to respond.
"Really?" Dadbeh asked. His mismatched eyes widened with surprise. "You were out there looking for me?"
"Yes," Pareesa said. "I wanted to say I was sorry."
"Well I was out in the desert," Dadbeh said, "when I saw…."
Dadbeh's voice receded as Mikhail looked past him to the shadows which lengthened and moved as though the darkness had come to life. The darkness beckoned to him, and without even realizing it, he strode down the alley, precariously close to the bend where he'd come into full view of the Sata'anic soldiers who still waged war against the people in the central square. He reached forward into a deeper shadow. His heart beat faster.
'Here,' his heart whispered to him. 'Amhrán is here.'
"Mikhail?" Dadbeh asked. "Who do you want me to give these weapons to?"
Mikhail turned around, surprised he had become so distracted in a war zone. Distraction was a weakness. Distraction could get him killed.
"Are you certain these are all the cartridges you found on the enemy's bodies?" Mikhail turned and strode back to his friends. He realized, after he spoke the words, that they'd come out sounding like an accusation.
"I gave you everything I gathered!" Dadbeh said. The small man's eyes flashed with injured feelings.
"I meant," Mikhail moderated his voice to be more respectful, "What I meant to ask was how many refill cartridges did they carry in here, and how many refills do you think they have right now?"
The anger faded from Dadbeh's eyes.
"The ones who died at the front gate each had three cartridges in their chest-strap," Dadbeh said, "plus whatever was already in the gun. As I moved further into the village, most of the enemy only had one or two."
Mikhail ran the calculations in his mind.
"That's still a lot of firepower," Mikhail said. He stared in the direction where he could hear shots being fired back and forth across the final barricade, but at the moment the lizards were only testing their defenses, probably waiting for that third ship he'd seen downed. By the way the gunship had been ripped apart, these men wouldn't be receiving reinforcements anytime soon.
"Come," Mikhail said. "It's time for you all to learn to use one of these." He showed them how to tell when the cartridge was spent, how to pop it out, and how to load another power cartridge into the pulse rifle's clip.
"Mikhail?" Dadbeh asked. "We came back here with a witness to bring before the Tribunal. Shahla's parents drugged her. She wasn't in her right mind when she accused you of ... of... "
"We?" Mikhail asked.
"Uh," Dadbeh hesitated. He stared off into the shadows. "The Uruk who tried to kill you ambushed some Kemet traders. I took refuge with them for a while. I helped them steal back their camels, and in return they let me keep one of the raiders alive to bear witness on Shahla's behalf. They told me where we might find the lizard demon's base."
"North," Mikhail said.
Dadbeh's face dropped. "You already know?"
"She-who-is told me," Mikhail said.
Dadbeh's face dropped further. Had he really only come back because he thought he had something of value to offer in exchange for a chance to drag this so-called witness before the tribunal to testify? Mikhail studied Dadbeh's stricken face. Yes. He had. Mikhail didn't have the heart to tell the man that nobody cared. Shahla was dead, and everybody hated her. Including him...
Pareesa glared at him and moved closer to flank Dadbeh, the way she usually flanked him. Ebad moved in lockstep with Pareesa. Mikhail softened the raptor-like flare of his wings. It had been just that attitude which had caused the elite warrior to leave their village. No matter what he felt about Shahla, it didn't behoove him to alienate a man so naturally talented at the art of special forces fighting.
"She-who-is was rather vague exactly where north the base was," Mikhail said. "So if you can enlighten us, it would save us time."
"They set up at a village called Ugarit," Dadbeh said. "Past the headwaters of the Buranuna River, west over the mountains to the edge of the Akdeniz Sea." His mismatched eyes were earnest, and through the sand and other guck smeared across his face Mikhail could swear were blended tears.
"We shall discuss this intelligence with Immanu and the Chief once we have rid our village of the invaders," Mikhail said. He shoved the remaining pulse rifles back into Dadbeh's satchel. "Take the sword you like best; deliver the rest of them unto the warriors beyond."
He pointed back the way Dadbeh had come.
"Ebad ... about eight houses down, I saw Pudagan on the roof with a spear. He is an old man, but he had a rope with which he could pull up the bundle of swords and ease them down the other side. Take a sniper position with the pulse rifles on that roof, and be ready to fire into their backs the moment they breach the inner wall. Lay flat and use the roof wall for cover. And bring Dadbeh with you."
"What about Pareesa?" Ebad asked.
Mikhail slung the satchel filled with pulse rifles across his chest.
"She is the only one of you light enough for me to carry."
Pareesa squealed as he grabbed her around the waist, and before she could protest, catapulted them both into the air.
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 107
February: 3,389 BC
Earth Orbit: Prince of Tyre
Ninsianna
Ninsianna blinked as, all of a sudden, her eyes came into focus. All around the healer's room, people's spirit lights began to sparkle as her gift of seeing was restored.
Something had changed.
Doctor Halpas and his two male nurses moved with efficiency as they heaved Jamin onto a table and pulled down a bright, round
light to illuminate the damage to his body. Ninsianna took a bracing breath and forced herself to step closer to the patient, towards the terrifying white specter of the monster which had inhabited her nightmares for the better part of the year. The white-winged guardian stood over his lover so tenderly, so fiercely, that, for a moment, it seemed as though he wasn't the man who had kidnapped her and stood over her with a knife, making her believe he'd cut her baby from her womb. She stepped closer, closer to the monster, closer to her nightmare.
The room stank of blood. A fat, bluish-grey snake of intestine peeked out of Jamin's gut like an infant's head slipping from its mother's womb. Unlike the time he'd been gored by an auroch, not only had his belly been pierced, but his intestine had been severed, torn out and shredded. Gut-wounds were always fatal, especially one as gruesome as this. Although the Angelics had awesome medicine, her gift of sight told her that Jamin’s prospects of survival were slim.
Her ability to see grew brighter. The closer she stepped to Lucifer, the stronger her gift of sight returned. When she had seen him before, his life-energy had been the color of piss-puke-putrid green gangrene, the color of infection, the color of flesh which had rotted and fallen off. He was the only living creature she had ever seen who had no point of light to work with at all.
Now, however, his spirit-light was a different color...
Jamin's was grey.
Lucifer's was grey.
Zepar's spirit-light was still the color of piss-puke-putrid gangrene.
With her goddess-kissed eyes, she could see the double, intertwined threads of light which streamed from Lucifer’s heart to Jamin’s. It was a bond. The bond which all the Angelics had spoken of, the one they longed for, the one they claimed had been stolen from them by the Eternal Emperor. It was the peculiar bond which Mikhail had tried to give to her. The one which had always felt intrusive. The one which had felt like he asked too much of her, his heartfelt need to always be able to feel her…
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 102
