by I. T. Lucas
Annani’s father called for the big assembly to decide Mortdh’s fate. His crime was the gravest of all. To kill a god was so unthinkable, their law did not even contain a punishment severe enough for what he had done. As executing a god was not allowed, the most terrible sentencing in their code was entombment. And the full assembly of all gods was needed to sentence one of their own to that horrific fate.
A god would not perish in the tomb; slowly his body would cease to function, going into a kind of suspended state. But it took a long time, a very long time, until consciousness faded.
A decision of that severity required a unanimous vote.
Mortdh fled to his stronghold in the north. Together with his near-immortal son Navuh, he assembled an army of mortal soldiers and his other near-immortal progeny. In his deranged mind, he concluded that if he could not rule the gods, he would eliminate them.
Lording supreme over mortals and near-immortals would suffice.
The assembly of gods listened to all the undisputed evidence and voted unanimously to pass the sentence of entombment. Mortdh’s parents planned to plead for their son. However, upon hearing the damning testimony, the cold cruelty of the premeditated murder, they realized they had no choice but to vote with the rest. Their son had become insanely dangerous and had to be stopped.
Annani sat on the council’s deliberations, frozen in her grief. The only thing keeping her from collapsing into a despondent stupor was her need for vengeance. She had to hold on until the voting was done. She listened to the proceedings with her tears flowing down her cheeks and onto her lap. But when at last the voting was done and the sentence was passed, she felt no satisfaction.
She felt nothing but pain.
Annani wished she could die. Without her love, she had no reason to go on. There was nothing that could have filled the horrific void in her heart, and the agony of grief was more than she could endure.
Death would have been a mercy.
But as snippets of the debate pierced through the haze of her desperation, she forced herself to focus on what was being discussed, and was alarmed by what she heard. Apparently, the council had no clue how to detain Mortdh in order to execute the verdict.
Rumors of forces gathering under his banner suggested a war was brewing, and there was talk of assembling a force of their own. They were deliberating whether to go on the offensive and try to capture Mortdh, or remain in their stronghold and defend it against his attack.
From experience, Annani knew that the talk would go on endlessly, producing no definite action. What was the point of the sentencing if it could not be executed? How would her justice be served? Who would capture Mortdh? What if he attacked first and won?
If he ever captured her, her fate would be worse than death. Of that she had no doubt.
True to her nature, Annani did not hesitate long before deciding on a course of action.
She was going to run away.
She would take her flying machine and her love’s precious gift of seven biomechanical servants and fly to a distant land the gods had never graced.
Mortdh would never find her.
Untouched by the gods, it would most likely be a primitive place, one without culture or an established society.
She would have to start a new civilization.
To accomplish that, she would need a set of instructions and a trove of knowledge. But then again, Annani knew exactly where to get it. She would steal her uncle’s library, which contained much of her people’s science and culture and was stored on a tablet she had seen him read often. He had even let her borrow it on occasion.
That decision and its prompt execution saved her life and the future fate of humanity.
That same night, while the gods still deliberated, Mortdh flew his aircraft over the council’s fortress and dropped a nuclear bomb.
The only weapon guaranteed to kill the gods.
The devastation was so widespread that over half of the region’s population died along with their gods. The nuclear wind carried the fingers of death far and wide, decimating everything alive on its way.
Including Mortdh.
Out of the ashes and ruins, humans and near-immortals rose and tried to survive on what was left. Nothing grew, and those the nuclear wind spared, hunger took.
The human population kept dying.
The near-immortals, as children of the gods, had bodies that could survive longer and heal faster and should have fared better. Some of them must have made it to distant lands and built new lives.
Annani sincerely hoped that indeed that was the case. Though over the next five millennia she encountered none.
The only part of the region unaffected by the nuclear devastation was its northern tip. Mortdh’s stronghold. With Mortdh’s death, his eldest son Navuh took over leadership of his people; several hundred mortal and near-immortal warriors along with their female broodmares.
Most of the unfortunate women had been mortal, but a few must have been Dormant or near-immortal because Navuh’s immortal army had kept growing through the millennia, and with it, his power and his sphere of influence.
Navuh had sworn to uphold his father’s vision of the new world order. And with his tight grip on the region’s leaders, he had succeeded in plunging that part of the world into darkness and oppression the likes of which had never been known before.
It had been worse for the women.
They had become cattle: to be owned and sold by their fathers or brothers, to be bought by their husbands and discarded at their whim. They had been stripped of all personal rights. For all intents and purposes, women had ceased to be considered people. They had become things. Patriarchy had been born and was there to stay.
Annani fled to the far, desolate and frozen north. She never stayed in one place long, always fearing she would be found. Slowly, though, rumors of the disaster that befell Mesopotamia found their way up to her icy hideout, and she learned she was the last of her kind.
The only remaining goddess alive.
By now, all traces of the carefree young woman she used to be were gone. With her heart frozen just like her new home, she was numb and emotionless and lacked the motivation to do aught but get by.
And yet, she had to survive, for she was the custodian of a treasure: the knowledge, culture, and ideology of her kin.
The future of humanity was in her hands.
Without her, Navuh’s darkness would spread until it consumed everything decent in the world.
She could not, would not, allow that to happen.
For five years, Annani ran and hid and survived with the help of her servants who made sure she at least had food and shelter.
Eventually, her grief and pain subsided sufficiently to allow her to move on. Not to forget, and not to stop hurting—that was never going to happen—but to start on her monumental task.
During her self-imposed stasis, she spent a lot of time thinking and realized she couldn’t do it alone. She needed to create more of herself.
Annani knew of only one way to achieve that.
She had to procreate.
Except, she vowed never to love again. Her heart would forever belong to her one true love. Her soul would remain faithful to Khiann’s memory.
To produce offspring, she would share her body with her mortal lovers, but nothing more.
She took many, using them and discarding them in short order. After the deed, she would fuddle her partner’s mind, leaving behind a dreamlike memory of a heavenly encounter.
For the males it was no hardship to be used like that; after all, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And to her surprise, Annani discovered it was not a great hardship for her either.
Her heart might have been frozen, but her body roared to life with insatiable heat.
Over the next five millennia, Annani was blessed with five children. Her first child was born after three thousand years, during which she almost despaired of ever conceiving.
Alena, h
er eldest, proved to be a blessing beyond measure. For an immortal, she was a miracle of fertility, delivering thirteen wonderful children in the span of five hundred years.
Kian was next, born only a few decades after Alena. Annani named her firstborn son in memory of her lost love. Except, she changed it a little as to not bait the fates. Kian would become the most instrumental in her quest to enlighten humanity.
A millennium later, sweet Lilen arrived. He grew to become a kind and brave man, well-liked by everyone. His tragic loss in battle plunged his mother back into the depths of despair, where she lingered till the birth of her daughter Sari pulled her out of that dark vortex.
Last but not least of the children was Amanda. The very young, and until recently, wild party-girl. The princess, as everyone called her.
Annani had never revealed the identity of the fathers, but she’d described them in detail, alleviating her children’s natural curiosity.
They had been the most magnificent men. She had chosen the strongest, the smartest, and most handsome males. They had been the fiercest warriors and natural leaders among their kind.
Kian wondered if the image she had painted for her children hadn’t been exaggerated. Mere mortals were not that great. Had she done it for her children’s sake? Her own? Had she even known whose seed had taken root? Or perhaps, she had just believed them to be so sublime because she had never stayed long enough to get to know them all that well.
With the human population growing and spreading to new and distant lands, Annani’s clan needed two geographically strategic centers of operation. Kian had moved with some of the clan from Scotland to America, and Sari had taken over the European center, becoming his counterpart in the old country.
Annani’s influence in the Western Hemisphere had grown. The gods’ knowledge and wisdom had been slowly trickled to the mortals, helping them to evolve into the advanced society they would one day become. But the progress had been slow, thwarted time and again by Navuh’s destructive power.
The Devout Order of Mortdh, as Navuh called his army of ruthless killers, was a formidable foe.
Lacking the intellectual resources Annani had stolen must have chafed terribly, as the Doomers had made a religion out of destroying and halting any progress she had helped mortal society achieve, whether scientific or social. Their dark sphere of influence had encompassed at times the majority of the civilized world. And each time, it had taken Annani and her clan centuries to recoup and push back the evils of ignorance and hate.
Annani’s clan was small, numbering in the low hundreds, its slow growth limited by its single matrilineal line.
The Doomers, on the other hand, were legion.
As far as Kian could ascertain, they had an advantage from the start, with Navuh inheriting a few near-immortal or Dormant females from his father.
They must’ve guarded these females fiercely, as none had ever made it out of the Doomers’ clutches.
Heavens knew, Kian and his nephews had searched near and far for centuries. They had followed rumors and fantastic tales of witches, nymphs, succubi, and other mythical creatures, in the hopes of finding an immortal female at the source of the stories. But as time and again the clues had led to nothing, they had eventually stopped looking; reluctantly accepting their fate.
Outnumbered and outmuscled, the clan’s best strategy had always been to hide.
They had lived quietly and unassumingly, avoiding any undue attention. Of course, the ability to create illusions and erase memories had been instrumental in that effect.
Taking advantage of their sophisticated knowledge base, slowly but surely, they had developed a shrouded economic empire.
Owned and operated under myriad identities and entities, the clan’s holdings included land, coal and ore mines, banks, manufacturing facilities, hotels and other real estate all over the world, adding in modern times a trove of patents and technology-based enterprises.
Occasionally, the Doomers had managed to snare a clan member, and several males had been lost that way. Kian shuddered at the prospect of the Doomers ever catching a clan female.
In their hands, she would long for an end that would never come.
Now, as the rules of the game had been irrevocably changed, Kian would have to reevaluate the clan’s time-trusted strategy.
Annani was safe in her Alaskan shrouded fortress. The place was extremely well hidden under a manufactured dome of ice; undetectable even with the help of satellites. The only way in and out was on a specially designed aircraft, piloted by one of her trusted Odu servants. Even Kian couldn’t find the place on his own.
Sari and the European clan should be fine as well. They all lived in their Scottish stronghold, which was defended with the help of the best surveillance equipment there was and clouded by its occupants in a perpetually maintained illusion.
That left his people.
They were scattered all over California and trusted their safety to living unseen among millions of mortals.
This would have to change.
Kian grimaced, imagining the hell they’d give him when he suggested moving them all into his secure keep: first the council members, and then the rest.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t just order it; every major decision required a vote. And wasn’t that a damn shame. But then again, he had an ace up his sleeve that guaranteed the vote would go in his favor.
Chapter 21: Andrew
“What do you think?” Andrew’s boss leaned over his shoulder to look at the photos attached to the file Andrew was reading.
“Apparently, business is booming in Maldives, judging by the sudden increase in visitors from that country over the last couple of weeks.”
Arriving within days of each other, three groups of “businessmen” from that tiny country had entered the United States through the Los Angeles International Airport.
His boss tapped the top row of photos. “What alerted security, beyond Maldives being a godforsaken bunch of insignificant islands with no industry to speak of, was that each group consisted of four young male members. Too young to be businessman, and too heavily muscled. Besides, these bushy beards are an excellent disguise. They will be unrecognizable once they shave them off.”
Airport security had used this oddity as an excuse to forward the information to their department without the risk of being accused of profiling. Looking at the security camera photos of the twelve young men, Andrew grimaced. Businessmen. What kind of businessmen looked like that? None that he had ever met. Not that he had met that many.
Be that as it may, it was a shame that airport security needed an excuse to report characters that would’ve raised the suspicion of anyone with half a brain. In his opinion, outlawing profiling was a perfect example of political correctness gone too far.
The vast majority of terrorists were young men between the ages of eighteen to twenty-five. In fact, most violent crimes were perpetrated by the male members of this age group. Seventy-year-old grandmothers and five-year-old girls posed a very remote security risk, so did families with small children. By considering everyone an equal opportunity threat, Homeland Security was wasting its limited resources and increasing the risk of missing the real thing.
Like these boys.
“I wonder what kind of trouble they are up to.” His boss straightened and pulled his pants up over his hefty belly. It was hard to believe that once upon a time the guy had been a warrior in an elite unit.
Andrew smirked. “The bunch wouldn’t have raised suspicion if Maldives were happening to compete in an international pro-wrestling tournament, and these impressive specimens were the team members.”
The men exuded health and vitality, the kind that came from strenuous physical activity, and their straight and sure postures were those of well-trained soldiers.
The boss was of the same opinion. “They look like Marines.”
The guys were all tall and seemed to be of several different ethnicities. One was Asian—a tough-looking f
ellow, and two looked like they were of Scandinavian descent—handsome, blond, blue-eyed devils. They kind of reminded Andrew of his Special Ops buddies and the way the motley bunch had looked coming back from a mission with their suntanned faces covered by several weeks’ worth of growth.
“Find out where they are staying and what they are doing. The report mentions three different hotels the men listed for their stay.”
“I’ll follow up on this tomorrow and see if they ever checked in.”
The boss clapped him on the shoulder. “You do that. Now get your ass out of here and go home.”
As was his habit, Andrew was the last one in the office. The other agents had families to go home to, but there was no one waiting for him at his house. Tonight, though, he had plans; a date with his sparring partner down at the gym, and if she was in the mood, a romp later on.
Susanna was another analyst in his department, which meant that she still went on missions abroad same as he. What had started as an easy camaraderie, had quickly turned into a “friends with benefits” arrangement.
At first, he had been wary of taking their friendship to the next level. According to conventional wisdom, a workplace fling was a disaster waiting to happen. But it had worked out fine. Neither had any expectations or treated it as an exclusive arrangement. They were just scratching each other’s itch.
Andrew couldn’t allow for anything more and neither could she. Not as long as they were still going on active missions. For him, the party was going to end soon. He was about to hit the dreaded forty. Susanna still had time before the powers that be chained her to a desk.
When he got down to the gym, Susanna was the only one there.
“You’re late,” she said from behind the punching bag she was practicing her kicks on. The woman was one hell of a martial arts enthusiast.
“Sorry about that. I just had another file dropped on my desk. The boss wanted me to take a quick look at it.”
She delivered a punch and followed it with a kick. “Anything interesting?”
“I don’t know yet. Tomorrow, I’ll know more. It might be nothing, just a bunch of kids touring the States.”
