Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (Sword of the Gods Saga)

by Anna Erishkigal

  “I don't like the way things have been transpiring outside of this village,” the Chief said. “The Kemet traders saw stars fall upwards, into the sky, as they traversed the great desert, not down. Given the winged ones appearance and the legends, preparing for the worst is prudent.”

  'You -must- prepare…'

  “Have you all gone mad?” Jamin blocked his ears to tune out the whispers which filtered through the walls. “Will you listen to yourself? Swords of gods and sky canoes and sticks that shoot lightning and demons that consume the earth? Just because we stumbled across one winged freak doesn't mean the world will come to an end. You're playing right into his hands!”

  “Jamin,” the Chief said. “If you don't want to train under him, that's fine. Put your concerns into actions, not words. Stop following Ninsianna around and train the other men to use a spear and atlatl.”

  “My warriors are already the best!” Jamin bragged.

  “Not your warriors,” the Chief said. “The village warriors. All of the young men and women you've been putting down all these years because they are not as quick to learn as you are. You need to teach them. If the strife Ninsianna foresees comes to our village, we need more warriors than the handful you have hanging on your every word.”

  “But the other men are inept,” Jamin said. “It takes forever just to teach them the simplest thing.”

  “Do you want to be chief of this village someday, or not?” the Chief said. “Because the chief doesn't have the luxury of picking only the best. He has to work with what She-who-is has given to him. I'm giving you the opportunity to prove that you can do a better job of preparing our village for attack than the winged one can.”

  'Think how the others will look up to you when you're prepared for the dark times to come…'

  “But…” Jamin ignored the voice carried on the wind and picked up the slender arrow. “These are just sticks." He snapped it with one hand. “They are but twigs.”

  “No buts,” the Chief said. “You think you can do better? Prove it.”

  Jamin stalked out, shaking his head to be rid of that annoying ringing in his ears. His father was right about one thing. It was time to train his warrior troop in earnest. Hunting down Siamek and the others, he told them what he had in mind. Nobody wanted to train with a bunch of girls. They would make certain of it.

  Chapter 60

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.06 AE

  Sata’an Empire: near Alliance Neutral Zone

  S.R.N. Tsalmaveth

  Lieutenant Apausha

  Lt. Apausha

  “The second shipment is ready for inspection, Your Eminence." Lieutenant Apausha tucked his tail up his right side in the Sata’anic equivalent of ‘attention.'

  Apausha was pilot of a cargo vessel in the Sata’an Merchant Marine, a non-military trading vessel, if such a thing existed in Shay’tan’s empire. Drawing a non-military duty in an empire whose entire society was built around war had been a fortuitous luck of the draw on his part, or so he'd thought when he'd first been inducted into the Royal Sata'anic Social Service as every young lizard-person did as soon as he hit puberty. Apausha didn't think it was so fortunate now. Merchant mariners were little more than black market smugglers for the elite members of society who grew fat off the labors of lower-ranking males such as himself.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant." Ba'al Zebub rubbed his sausage-thick paws together, causing the fat rolls around his hands to jiggle as a hiss of pleasure escaped his maw. “Thirty females? How were they procured?”

  “General Hudhafah made arrangements with some local agents,” Apausha said. “He instructed them to only take a few from each settlement in order to gain the greatest possible genetic diversity.”

  Ba'al Zebub inspected the huddled females and snorted in disgust. Apausha had kept them segregated from his crew in order to maintain their modesty, and also to reduce fainting every time one of his crewmen laughed or twitched. This wasn’t the first time he'd transported a living cargo of questionable legality, but that didn't mean he had to mistreat them. Bribery and skimming were time-honored methods of greasing the wheels of progress in the upper echelons of Sata’anic society, and this was skimming or let Shay'tan turn him into an Angelic! Skimming was a practice lower-ranking men such as himself learned to accept and remain silent about lest they find themselves cannon fodder in Shay’tan’s latest war.

  “What form of payment did our agents find acceptable?” Ba'al Zebub asked. No doubt he wondered how much this unauthorized little side-venture was going to cost him.

  “Believe it or not,” Apausha said. “They wanted to be paid in gold. Sergeant Dahaka said the idiots danced like drunken serpents when he gave them a bag of gold for each female.”

  “Gold? The stuff we add to paint to make it sparkle?" Ba'al Zebub gestured to the paint adorning the walls of the cargo hold. Gold was a mineral which was abundant in the Hades cluster, so plentiful that it was cheaper to shield their spacecraft in solid gold rather than a rarer metal such as iron.

  “Yes … gold,” Apausha replied.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” A feral glint came into Ba'al Zebub's eyes. “You and your crew can go down to the nearest planet for a 24-hour shore leave. When you get back, I'll have you transport the cargo directly to the buyer.”

  It was an 'honor' Apausha didn't want! His rotation home had been delayed once already. All he wanted to do was go home to his wife and seven soon-to-be hatchlings. But when duty called, lower-ranking males such as himself had no choice but to obey. How would Ba'al Zebub, the highest ranking male in the Empire after only Shay'tan himself, understand his desire to go home to his one wife when the Sata'anic high lord possessed thirty-two? Tucking his tail against his side even tighter, Apausha made the appropriate gesture of respect and thanked their god for the privilege of performing this duty.

  "Shay'tan be praised."

  Chapter 61

  Earth: End-June, 3,390 BC

  Village of Assur

  Ninsianna

  Ninsianna wiped the tears streaming out of her eyes as she chopped onions. Although Mama usually decided what was to be eaten in their household, she'd long ago learned that helping her mother prepare meals was in her own self-interest. Although Mama was a spectacular healer, her cooking skills left a lot to be desired. Charred meat, hard bread, soggy lentils, and overcooked vegetables were always on the menu in Needa’s kitchen.

  A laugh escaped her throat. When Ninsianna had been a little girl, she'd once joked about Mama’s roast goat always being burnt enough to break her teeth. Mama had run into her bedroom, crying. Papa had lectured her that, no matter how poorly cooked the meal, Mama’s diligence about ensuring everyone was fed was an act of love. As a healer, Mama had more important things do than cook and clean up after them, yet she always made time to cook their meals herself. No matter how badly Mama botched the meal, Papa ate it without complaint and thanked her afterwards for a fine supper. It was his way of telling her that he loved her.

  Ninsianna snorted, chuckling as a random thought crossed her mind.

  “What's so funny?” Mama asked.

  “Mikhail tried milking the goat again this morning,” she said. “It's the only thing I've ever seen him try that he was terrible at doing.”

  “Is this your way of saying there will be no milk with supper again tonight?” Mama stifled a laugh.

  “Oh, there is some left,” she said. “Just not all of it. I swear … Mikhail and the goat are like two old adversaries going to war.”

  “Who is winning?”

  “The goat,” Ninsianna laughed. “I don't know why he keeps trying! I told him I would do it.”

  Mama measured out a scoop of lentils and dumped them into a crock. Ninsianna handed her the onions and a pinch of herbs to add flavor. Tightly fitting the ceramic cover, Mama placed it into one side of the beehive-shaped oven to cook while Ninsianna stuffed wood into the firebox. Most houses in Assur had an outdoor oven and eating porch so that the inha
bitants could take advantage of the breeze. Using the oven inside the house this time of year was out of the question. The bricks soaked up the heat and radiated them back into the living quarters all night long, making it unbearable to sleep.

  “Mikhail is just trying to help,” Mama said.

  “It's not necessary!” Ninsianna said. “You would think it was a matter of honor! He swooped in and grabbed her out of the field like a hawk this morning. And then he wonders why she fights him horn and hoof whenever he tries to get her into the milking shed? He can’t even fit in there all the way! He's too big!”

  “Mikhail is still finding his place here,” Mama said. “Helping is his way of saying that he appreciates what we've done for him.”

  Ninsianna chopped the greens she'd gathered earlier this afternoon from the garden. Chop-chop-chopping the vegetables with her obsidian blade, she considered whether to ask her mother what was on her mind.

  “If you chop those any smaller,” Mama said. “They will disappear.”

  “I was just thinking…”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think he will leave?" She scooped the greens into a wooden bowl and moved on to slice some cucumber. “When another sky canoe comes to find him?”

  “Mikhail loves you,” Mama said. “Even if he is rescued and has to finish whatever mission he was doing when he crashed here, he will come back for you. He will always come back for you.”

  “How can you be so sure?" Ninsianna asked. “How can –I- be sure? I mean … if we … and then … well …. I just don't think…”

  “Mikhail loves you." Mama gave her a hug. “He said that he would battle somebody named Shay’tan to come back to you.”

  “Who is Shay’tan?”

  “I have no idea,” Mama said, “but by the way he said it, I have no doubt in my mind he won't let anything come between you two.”

  Ninsianna mixed the cucumber with salt and flaxseed oil as she digested her mother's words. “It's just … the vision….”

  “What about the vision? You left things out, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your father and I suspected as much. What else did She-who-is show you?”

  “When the Evil One comes,” Ninsianna said. “Mikhail is not here to save me. I think it is him, but when I turn to embrace him, it's someone else! The Evil One tried … he tried to … Oh Mama!!!”

  Mama hugged her while she sobbed. Finally, she forced Ninsianna to look her in the eye and asked, “did the Evil One actually succeed in the vision?”

  “I don't know,” Ninsianna said. “Papa came in to tell me how to get out, and then I followed Mikhail’s voice back into the waking realm.”

  “So there is your answer,” Mama said with a knowing nod. “The goddess gave you this vision so that you can be prepared when the Evil One comes for you. You know he feels he has a mission to complete. If Mikhail can't be here to save you, then you must be prepared to save yourself. The gods help those who help themselves.”

  “But the Evil One is so powerful,” Ninsianna said. “In my vision, on the outside he is even more beautiful than Mikhail, but he couldn't hide the darkness in his soul. I think … I think he wanted to hurt Mikhail by hurting me and our… our … our … I think he wanted to get even by hurting the people Mikhail cared about.”

  “You said this Evil One is another winged creature like Mikhail, right?” Mama asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you must ask Mikhail to teach you how to defeat someone as powerful as him in case he's not here to do it for us,” Mama said. “All of us. Everyone in the village.”

  "Jamin has caused a lot of trouble," Ninsianna said, "telling everybody that Mikhail is a demon. If we tell the villagers the Evil One is a winged one like him, won't they start to distrust him?"

  "Tell them we prepare them to fight these other creatures She-who-is showed you," Mama said, "the ones you said looked like lizards."

  Ninsianna gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. “Mama … how did you get to be so smart?"

  “Oh, no!!!” Mama exclaimed. “The fish!!! Ninsianna … it's burning!!!”

  Laughing, Ninsianna ran to the oven and pulled out the fish. One side was charred and black, worse than anything her mother had ever tried to feed them. She just hoped Papa and Mikhail would forgive her when they got back from their meeting with the Chief. Maybe that’s why Mama was such a lousy cook … she always had more important things on her mind.

  “I love you, Mama!” She gave her another hug.

  Chapter 62

  June – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili

  Mikhail

  Mikhail walked in silence, rehearsing what he wished to ask within his own mind. The other villagers gave them curious glances as they left the Chief's house and moved through the central square, but they no longer gawked the way they had when he'd first come here. A potter sat beneath a canopy made of woven reeds, spinning a pot on a wheel while a gaggle of children watched. Just beyond him, merchants hawked their wares, woven mats, cloth made of linen, pots, beads, and a few who had bought goods from the last trading caravan and now sold them at a substantial markup. Farmers trailed in from the fields and stopped at the communal well on their way home for supper. Immanu was perceptive enough to give him time to gather his thoughts.

  “I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you,” Mikhail said at last, his expression serious.

  “Yes?"

  “When we first met, you made me give you a promise.”

  “Yes, I did." A deep smile line appeared on Immanu's cheek.

  “I was wondering … um … hoping … I was wondering if you might … reconsider?" Mikhail felt like a small boy asking permission to do something that might cause him to be thrashed.

  “Perhaps. What do you have in mind?”

  “I seek permission to ask Ninsianna to be my mate.” He glanced at Immanu, fearful he might be angry.

  “That's up to Ninsianna,” Immanu said with a grunt. “I learned my lesson the last time I tried to force her affections for a man. What does she say?”

  “I haven't asked her yet. I've been trying to keep my distance.”

  “Then first you must obtain her permission,” Immanu said. “If Ninsianna agrees to marry you, then you shall have my blessing."

  “Hey!!!”

  In his glee at being told it was okay to pursue the desire burning in his heart, Mikhail had neglected to pay attention where he was walking. He stared down at the poor girl he'd knocked to the ground with his wings, her basket of freshly-washed laundry spilled onto the dirt. Immanu laughed and greeted the black-eyed girl by name, the one he'd once mistaken for Ninsianna. Bending to help refill her basket, Mikhail gave her a rare smile.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  The girl trembled as he handed her back her basket of clothes, too timid to even speak. He instantly forgot her as he turned back to complete the conversation with the man he hoped would soon be his father-in-law.

  “I'm not sure what your customs are in such matters,” Mikhail said. “I don't even remember what my customs are. I want to do this right.”

  “When I met Ninsianna’s mother,” a tender expression blossomed on Immanu's face, “she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She is from Gasur, a tiny village located in those distant hills. She was apprenticed to their healer, so her entire village was opposed to her seeing anyone who might take her away from them. I had to woo her without anybody knowing.”

  “How did you win her heart?”

  “I used every excuse I could find to make the journey to Gasur,” Immanu gestured towards the horizon. “It was a lengthy trek. I had to sneak in under the guise of trade, so I would bring her things. Game I had hunted, food I had gathered, and small animals carved from wood.”

  “Were you successful?”

  “At first she was merely amused,” Immanu said. “But I finally convinced her to co
me for a picnic by the river. I was in training by then to become a shaman, so I taught her how to close her eyes and go into the dreamtime with me.”

  “I thought it was forbidden for women to do that?”

  “It is," Immanu said. "But she was fascinated by it. Healers use the dreamtime to heal their patients all the time, they just don't realize that's what they are doing. Silly prohibition, if you ask me…”

  “Why haven’t you trained Ninsianna to be a shaman, then?” Mikhail asked. “She is naturally good at it.”

  “I have,” Immanu gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Just not directly. I have never sent her from the house unless I was doing something dangerous. If I know it, chances are that Ninsianna knows it as well. But I realize now that not training her directly was a mistake.”

  “How did you finally convince Needa to become your mate?”

  “She-who-is showed her that she was meant to be my wife,” Immanu said with a cryptic smirk. “After that … it was easy.”

  “I don't think She-who-is will intervene on my behalf,” Mikhail frowned.

  “I think SHE already has,” Immanu said. “Or you wouldn't be alive.”

  Chapter 63

  June – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Ninsianna

  A thrill went through Ninsianna's body as her parents discussed the Chief’s request. That thread she could always feel connecting her to She-who-is hummed like a wooden flute. She could feel the goddess' plan coming together. Mikhail had definite ideas about how to institute a training program and avidly picked her father's brains. It was the most animated she'd seen him in all the time she'd known him. With her goddess-enhanced eyes, she could see the light which had always trailed off of him to someplace else begin to anchor firmly into their village.