“You have learned our language remarkably fast." Needa used a rag to fish the covered crock where she simmered hard-boiled eggs at the edge of the oven for breakfast and pulled them out to cool.
“I had a good tutor.”
“I speak some Halifian and Anatolian,” Needa said. “It took me months to learn the few phrases I know, and I had to repeat them over and over again to memorize them. “
Mikhail turned this piece of information over in his mind and compared it to what little he knew about himself.
“I think where I come from we are expected to learn many languages.”
“You also heal remarkably fast." Needa finished up with her cooking and moved behind him to do her daily check of how his wing was healing. “It has only been four months since you almost died, and yet you barely have a scar.”
“This looks like a scar to me,” he pointed to the hideous crater under his shirt that reminded him he shouldn't be alive. The rod which had impaled him had shattered part of his ribcage, leaving nothing but bone fragments. The hole sank inward towards his heart and lung.
“You flew yesterday." Needa cuffed him off the side of the head.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“Save some olives for the rest of us, you big oaf,” Needa said. “You're eating us out of house and home!”
“Soorrriiiii,” he mumbled through a mouthful of flat bread that he'd just dipped into the delicious oil and stuffed into his mouth, unapologetic.
“Let me check the wing." Needa placed her strong hands on the tendon that had been taking its sweet time healing.
Mikhail obediently stretched out his left wing. Needa felt where the bones had knitted back together then down where the tendon had torn with her practiced hands.
“Does it still hurt?”
“It does today,” he admitted.
“That’s because you weren’t supposed to take your first flight with my daughter in tow!" Needa cuffed him on the side of the head a second time. “You overdid it. You're supposed to start slow.”
“She asked for it!" He snitched another olive when Needa wasn't looking and popped it into his mouth. “I only gave what I got.”
Needa finished her examination and grunted permission to tuck his wing back into a more comfortable position. Sitting down opposite him and grabbing an olive and a piece of flat bread, she regarded him with an unreadable expression while she chewed, chasing down the tasty treat with a draught of water. Finally she spoke what was on her mind.
“Ninsianna is fond of you.”
Mikhail inwardly cringed. He knew where this conversation was going. He'd promised Immanu he would keep his hands off of their daughter. Yesterday, in the heat of the moment, he'd allowed himself to do what was in his heart. To very publicly do what was in his heart.
“That won't happen again." He schooled his expression into the blank, serious expression he used to mask his feelings.
“That wasn't what I asked,” Needa looked directly into his eyes.
Mikhail let her words sank in. “What are you asking?”
“Are you fond of her?”
Mikhail puzzled over where this conversation was going before he answered truthfully.
“Very.”
“So what are you going to do about it?" Needa searched his face for answers.
“Nothing. I gave Immanu my word." He withdrew into his mask to hide the emotions swirling like a cyclone just beneath the surface.
“Mikhail,” Needa's expression softened, “we didn't know you then. We just don't want Ninsianna to get hurt.”
Mikhail tried to grasp just what Needa was saying and failed. He had the impression this conversation was alien territory. He went with what he knew.
“I gave Immanu my word. I will keep my word." He wished to withdraw from this conversation and the dangerous feelings it aroused. He might have pulled it off, too, if not for his expression of misery.
“Ask him…” Needa said.
“I don't understand.”
“Ask Immanu for permission to court his daughter,” Needa said. “It's our custom to ask.”
“But … he … said…." Mikhail was perplexed.
“His feelings about you have changed." Needa took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Ask. We just want to see Ninsianna be happy.”
“I can’t!" His voice sounded anguished. “I can't remember who I am! What if I'm not free to be with her? What if I already have a mate? What if a ship arrives to rescue me and they order me to return to duty? I'm a soldier…”
“What does your heart tell you?” Needa asked. “Do you long for someone you can't name?”
“No.”
“When you look up at the stars, even though you can't remember, does it feel as though there is a hole in your heart because you miss somebody who is not here?”
“No. I only long for Ninsianna.”
“If you had to report to duty, when you were through, would you come back for her?”
“Good lord, yes! I would battle Shay’tan himself to come home to her!”
“Then sweet gods boy, go after that girl before you drive the rest of us insane!” Needa exclaimed.
“What?”
“The only two people in this village who don't know you two were made for each other are you and Ninsianna!”
“Are you giving me … permission?” Here he'd thought he'd betrayed their trust by not keeping his emotions under control, and now Ninsianna’s mother was now telling him to go for it? And who the heck was this Shay’tan he'd just mentioned off the cuff … the memory gone as soon as it was mentioned?
“Speak to Immanu,” she got up from the table. “Ask permission. It's our way.”
“Wha- What am I asking for?" He was not certain how far he dared go with this.
“What is in your heart?" Needa came around behind him and placed her hand upon his shoulder.
“I … I want Ninsianna to stay with me … always,” he replied without reservation.
“Will you ever abandon her?”
“Not unless I'm dead!”
“Then ask Immanu for her hand." Needa gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and was gone.
Mikhail sat staring at the bowl of olives, unmoving. Just when he thought he understood human behavior, Needa had thrown him a curve ball. He would speak to Immanu at the first suitable moment. Grabbing one last olive, he popped it into his mouth and savored the tasty, salty fruit. Rare and delicious. Just like Ninsianna.
Chapter 56
June – 3,390 BC
Earth: Just outside Assur Village
Jamin
“Are you going to sulk all day?” Siamek asked. “Or will you come practice with us?”
Jamin sat in a bushy area where the riverbank rose high above the water. Not far below, Ninsianna stood thigh-deep in the Hiddekel River, sans her shawl dress, cheerfully doing her family's laundry. Siamek knew him well enough to know that wherever Ninsianna was to be found, Jamin would be lurking just out of sight.
“Yesterday was supposed to be our wedding day!" Jamin shoved down the sob, not wishing to let on his heart was breaking.
“I know." Siamek's face was sympathetic. He sat cross-legged on the ground next to him. “You handled it fairly well, except….”
Jamin’s head snapped up. He regarded his oldest friend with suspicion. Whispers. Ever since the winged demon had moved into his village, his friends were abandoning him like a canoe with a hole in the bottom of it.
“Except?”
“Nothing,” Siamek avoided eye contact and stared at the ground. “Those of us who know you understand how hard this has been for you.”
Jamin sucked in a deep breath, steadying the maelstrom of anger and grief which threatened to erupt like a volcano. They didn't understand! None of them understood! Whenever he tried to speak of it, they slapped him on the back, made jokes about women being ball-busters, and told him to get over it. He didn't want to get over it. He wanted to win!
“Did sh
e have to make a spectacle of herself?" Jamin turned back to stare at Ninsianna. “I mean, okay. It's a festival. And my father wants to incorporate him into the tribe. So there has to be a speech. And it wasn't surprising he won because he can fly over obstacles like they aren't even there. But did she have to jump on him and kiss him right in front of the entire village?”
“He's not a bad guy,” Siamek said. “He’s pretty reserved. I don't think he would have flown off with her like that if she hadn't covered him in mud. Ninsianna is a wicked tease.”
“You'd think she would have been a bit more sensitive!" Jamin was unable to prevent his voice from warbling like a pubescent boy. “Of all the days for them to make it known they are a couple, why did they have to choose our wedding day?”
Jamin looked down, the sight of Ninsianna’s happiness too painful to bear. A happy song wafted up with the breeze. A love song. A love song that he'd once sung for her back when she'd stopped rebuking his advances and started to encourage him. He coughed and pretended to swat a gnat, wiping the tear that escaped so Siamek wouldn't see it.
“You have to let it go,” Siamek said. “It's not right, how she treated you. But you've got to let it go. All you do is follow her around. It's not … healthy.”
“I don't follow her around!”
“It's all you do,” Siamek said. “You rarely practice with your friends anymore. You don't eat. You don't smile. You've lost weight. You look like goat shit. And you've been snapping and snarling at friends who've done nothing to deserve it. It's time to let her go and move on.”
The wind picked up and blew cool air across his cheek like a caress.
'Jamin … let her go...'
“I can’t go anywhere without bumping into … him!” Jamin swatted at the sensation. “And if I don't bump into him in person, then I have to listen to everyone twitter about how wonderful he is! Even my own father prefers his company to mine!”
“You’re not very good company lately,” Siamek said carefully and immediately held up his hand so Jamin wouldn't interrupt until he'd had his say. “Ah ah ah! Don't get in a huff! It's not an accusation. It's an observation. Ever since Ninsianna dumped you, you've been a miserable bastard to be around."
“You would be too if it had happened to you like that!”
“Yes,” Siamek said. “I would be too. But you're not the only guy who's ever had his balls cut off and handed to him by a female he thought he was in love with.”
“Yah, who?” Jamin retorted. “Shahla? Every warrior in the village has slept with Shahla. Except for maybe Ebad, who is so incompetent with a spear even Shahla won't sleep with him.”
“No,” Siamek said. “It's none of your business. But I've had it happen. And it stinks. It makes you feel … unworthy."
They sat silently for a time, watching Ninsianna slap the laundry against the rocks and dunk them into the river to rinse the soap made from rendered animal fat and wood ash. It was obvious the bulk of her laundry belonged to her new ‘brother.’
Siamek rose to his feet and held out his hand to help him up.
“C’mon,” Siamek said. “I came to drag your sorry ass back into the land of the living. It's time to move on. The others … you're beginning to scare them. They need a leader. Not an angry lion who snarls at them all the time.”
'Your people need you…' the wind whispered through the reeds.
“I'll be along later." Jamin's attention wandered back to the happy, singing woman who was clueless she was being watched. “What I brood about is nobody’s business.”
Chapter 57
June – 3,390 BC
Earth: Just outside Assur Village
Shahla
She swirled her best shawl in the water, frowning at the sight of dirt smeared into its back. It was the prettiest shawl in the entire village. Her parents had spent half a year's harvest on the piece of linen used to make it after word had come through the village that Ninsianna had broken off her engagement with the Chief's son. She'd convinced them it would help her finally lure Jamin into a betrothal. Little had any of them known the bull-headed Jamin would continue to pursue his former harlot with single-minded determination, spurning her.
Her parents would be livid if they learned she was sneaking behind their backs to see Dadbeh, a low-ranking warrior whose parents were nothing but farmers, instead of increasing her family's social rank by marrying the son of the village Chief. Jamin had dumped her once already. Unless he had something more convincing to say besides he wanted a quick rendezvous behind the nearest goat shed, she wasn't going to fall for his charms anymore!
She glanced over to where Ninsianna stood upriver, talking to herself as she often did whenever she thought nobody was watching, as she scrubbed her family's laundry. How had a crazy woman who had the gall to claim the goddess spoke directly to her ended up with her boyfriend? Even Immanu, a shaman, had enough common sense not to make those kinds of claims! And why was she so happy?
“What’s with her?” Shahla asked.
“Didn’t you see?" Gita's pale, gaunt face lit up with a rare smile. “He swooped in and flew off with her after the competition. It was so romantic! I'm amazed you didn't see it!”
“Harrumph!!! Shahla pouted. “I was busy behind the goat shed with … oh … never mind!" She scrubbed the back of her shawl with a vengeance, trying to remove evidence of what exactly she'd been doing behind the goat shed the day before, and it had not been crawling through the mud chucking spears!
“You shouldn't make yourself so available to the warriors,” Gita scolded, her black eyes swirling with recrimination. “Why trade for the goat that already gives you milk for free?”
“I think Ninsianna already gives the winged one lots of milk!” Shahla said. “We need to take her down a peg.”
“Ninsianna is my cousin." Gita withdrew into the emotional shell she usually reserved for others.
“Everybody here is a cousin!” Shahla said. “I'm sick of everybody always sucking up to Ninsianna. Ninsianna this. Ninsianna that. You should try to be more like Ninsianna!"
“Shahla … it’s not Ninsianna’s fault Jamin chose her over you. He chased her for two years before she finally gave him the time of day.”
“Why do you defend her?" Shahla said. "She's terribly mean to you. She talks badly about you behind your back. And besides … she always steals away my boyfriends!" Shahla smacked her shawl against a rock to loosen the dirt.
“Maybe if you tried being more aloof?" Gita gave her that spooky look that always gave Shahla the creeps. “Guys are into the hunt. They only value a woman they have to pursue.”
“How’s that working out for you?” Shahla sneered.
Gita withdrew into her habitual shell. The one where she turned herself into a fly on the wall and you forgot all about her being there. Aloof her rear end! Like she was going to sit there like some pathetic spider waiting for whatever unwary insect flew into her web? She could almost picture Gita sitting there, alone in her web, waiting for a fly that never came. Shahla turned back to her shawl, the stain of her extracurricular activities screaming out at her from its back. How the heck would she explain that to her parents?
She looked up and realized Gita had gone…
Chapter 58
June – 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili
Mikhail
“Mikhail,” Immanu called, his expression rushed. “The Chief wants you to meet him at his house.”
“What's this about?” Mikhail asked.
“He's gotten disturbing reports from a nearby village,” Immanu said. “I think he wants your help.”
“When?” He wanted to speak to Immanu about courting his daughter, but by the worried expression on his face, now was not the time.
“Right away." Immanu gestured for him to follow.
Mikhail put down the buckets of water he'd been about to haul to the widow-sister’s house and straightened out.
&n
bsp; “I should change first." His shirt had dirt smeared down the front.
“There's no time,” Immanu said. “The Chief has an emissary from the neighboring village.”
“You forget I no longer need to walk,” Mikhail said. “I'll meet you at the Chief’s house before you can walk there.”
Immanu nodded and hurried away. Leaping into the air, Mikhail flapped his wings until he felt the current catch the underside. He adjusted them into the wind to soar effortlessly into the sky. Flexing his primary feathers to catch maximum updraft, he winced as muscles overworked from yesterday’s little ‘twofer’ stunt complained. The bone ached where it had broken, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. It felt good to fly again, but inactivity had left him weak.
Reaching the apex, he caught a glimpse of Ninsianna in the river washing clothes. Squelching the urge to swoop down and shout ‘surprise,’ he dove into the doorway of their house, pinning his wings to his side just as he touched down so he'd fit through the door still quasi in-flight.
“Eeeek!!!"
Needa dropped the medicinal herbs she'd been tying into bundles. The last thing she'd expected was to have her new ‘son’ come flying through the door.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just need to change."
“We're going to have some RULES around here, young man!!!” Needa snapped. “No flying inside the house!”
“Yes, Mama." He schooled an appropriate look of chastisement.
Needa smiled at the endearment.
Stepping behind the curtain that cordoned off his personal area, he emerged wearing his dress uniform shirt and jacket, but didn't bother changing his pants. Strapping his pulse rifle onto one hip and his sword onto the other, he straightened his collar and the medals he couldn't remember earning. He dipped his hands in the bucket of water kept in the room for washing before heading back out, his hands dripping water all over the floor.
“Got to go!" He took off the moment he hit the threshold. The backdraft from his wings scattered Needa’s herbs.
Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 30
