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

by Anna Erishkigal

  “Come with me, my wife," Abaddon shepherded his bride onto his command carrier. He ordered his crew to keep the matter of the unknown, veiled creature that was led to his private quarters quiet under penalty of court martial and to not disturb him for at least three days.

  Chapter 81

  July – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Ninsianna

  Ninsianna awoke to the sensation of something warm and firm pressed along the length of her back. Listening to the throb of blood whirring in tune with his heartbeat through the firm bicep she'd been using as a pillow, she relished the feather ‘blanket’ he'd used to cover them. Suppressing a yawn, she stretched and turned towards him. He was awake. Probably had been for some time. Watching. Always watching. Adding up every move in that brilliant mind of his as though she were an equation he needed to solve.

  “Hey,” she smiled and wiggled closer to his warmth.

  “Hey,” he said, his blue eyes serious.

  The mask was back. That serious mask he used to hide his feelings. Ninsianna knew to ignore his carefully schooled expression and listen to what his body said was really on his mind. Reaching up to touch his cheek, she stretched forward for a kiss. She decided not to tease him this morning. Right now, self-control was the only thing holding him together. Instead, she put her hand over the scarred tissue covering his heart, feeling the reassuring beat beneath her fingertips. His expression grew less troubled. They basked in their mutual embrace until the sound of voices and pottery clinking downstairs intruded into the silence.

  “Breakfast will be ready soon,” Ninsianna said. “Would you like to eat downstairs? Or would you rather I bring something up?”

  “You're my family. We shall eat together.”

  “I'll go downstairs and see who Mama has in so early?” she said. “You're all covered in blood. It will give me a chance to bring water and some clean clothes so Mama doesn't scold me for leaving you in such a sorry state.”

  “You were wonderful....”

  Ninsianna silenced him with a kiss. “Let me do my job and you do yours. Okay? I'll be back in a moment.”

  Ninsianna knew Mama wouldn't scold her. Her real reason for keeping him there was to warn the others not to question him until he was in a mood to be questioned. Pareesa was downstairs along with the three unknown women who had a strange, exotic appearance, as though they had traveled from far away. Ninsianna marveled at their jet-black hair and almond-shaped eyes, even darker than the Ubaid.

  “Ninsianna,” Pareesa said, “perhaps you could help. We are trying to figure out where these women are from so we can help them get home. Nobody speaks their language.”

  “They need to speak to me first," Ninsianna said. “Once they do, I'll be able to pick up the thread of their native tongue.”

  The three women huddled together.

  “Ninsianna,” Ninsianna pointed to her own chest. She pointed to her mother and fellow archer. “Needa … Pareesa." Ninsianna then pointed to the first girl and asked, “Who?”

  The girl looked at her puzzled for a moment, then said, “Seyahat.”

  “Good … Ninsianna … Seyahat … ” Ninsianna pointed first to herself, and then the girl.

  Turning to the second girl, she did it again. “Ninsianna … who?”

  “Fatma,” the second girl giggled as she realized what Ninsianna was doing. Fatma turned to Sehayat and said something in whatever language it was they spoke. By the time the third girl chipped in her thoughts, the language had come to her. Ninsianna didn't even know its name, but she could speak it fluently.”

  “I'm Ninsianna,” she said in their language. “This is my Mama, Needa, and my friend, Pareesa. You are safe here.”

  The girls burst into an explosion of questions.

  “How did you learn our language?” Seyahat asked.

  “She-who-is has given me the gift to understand languages after hearing only a few sentences,” Ninsianna said. “We're trying to figure out where you live so we can get you home.”

  “We are Magian,” the third girl said. “I'm called Norhan. We were captured from a caravan crossing the mountains. Three mountain ranges from here, I think. We’re from Margiana … on the other side of the landlocked sea.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Norhan,” Ninsianna said. “I have never heard of this place, but someone in the village must know of it. Once we figure that out, we shall help you get home.”

  “Ninsianna,” Pareesa asked, “where is Mikhail?”

  “Upstairs … in my room...”

  Pareesa lifted one eyebrow.

  “It's not like that!” Ninsianna protested. “He is wounded. I sent him upstairs to rest so annoying early morning guests tromping through the kitchen wouldn't disturb him!”

  “Sorry,” Pareesa said. “It was just … unbelievable! I've never seen someone take out that many men!”

  “I have seen,” Ninsianna said. “Please don't let him overhear you speak of it so gleefully.”

  “But he did an incredible thing!” Pareesa wriggled with enthusiasm. “We all want to congratulate him!”

  “Mikhail is a moral creature,” Ninsianna gestured for her young friend to lower her voice. “He takes no joy in his abilities. You must respect his silence until he is ready to rejoin us.”

  “He helped the warriors take out over 45 Halifians,” Needa said. “And that was after the eight he killed rescuing Pareesa.”

  “Seven,” Pareesa said. “I took out the eighth one with his own bow.”

  “He was trained by the Cherubim, the guardians of the Eternal Emperor,” Ninsianna spoke low so her voice wouldn't carry upstairs. “That's the strange language he speaks when he goes into battle. But the Cherubim are not human, nor even Angelic. What Mikhail does weighs heavily upon him.”

  “They deserved it!” Pareesa said. "They killed eleven of our people!"

  “Yes, they did." Ninsianna looked at the three exotic women who were so far from home. “But he will still bury his enemies with respect. He will still pray to She-who-is to convey their spirits into the dreamtime, whether they deserve it or not. And he will still mourn the loss of their lives even though it was necessary. It's what makes him … Mikhail.”

  Pareesa chewed her lip, deep in thought. She still had a bit of an eager, awestruck air about her, but Ninsianna could see she also understood she needed to be respectful of her mentor's moral code.

  “I understand,” Pareesa said. “I will try not to annoy him.”

  “Oh, little fairy!" Ninsianna hugged the woman-child. “That's what you do! Just try not to do it too much for a few days, okay?”

  “Will we train today?” Pareesa asked.

  “Alalah will teach today’s class, and perhaps tomorrow,” Ninsianna said. “I think from now on the entire village will be training. We must pass along what we already know."

  She turned to address her mother. "Papa has gone to speak to the Chief. Hasn't he, Mama?”

  Mama grunted and turned her attentions back to the porridge she stirred in the ceramic cook pot. It was best not to distract her mother while cooking or their breakfast would suffer.

  “You'd better teach me to use that fancy weapon of yours, too, daughter,” Mama said, “in case some Halifian decides an old hag like me is nubile enough for the slavers.”

  As if! Ninsianna may have inherited her father's eerie shaman's eyes, but her good looks had come from her mother. At 36 years old, her mother was still young … and beautiful … enough to be a target. Ninsianna gave her Mama a reassuring hug.

  “Pareesa … could you please take your new friends elsewhere for breakfast?” Ninsianna asked. “If they witnessed Mikhail under the spell of the killing dance, I don't think they'll react well when he comes downstairs.”

  “They were pretty upset when he flew out of there,” Pareesa frowned. “It took me hours to convince them he was not coming back to kill them.”

  “We forget because he is our friend,” Ninsianna said. “But
I don't think three women cringing in fear while he eats breakfast will sit well with him this morning.”

  “Of course." Pareesa was young for one who had just taken her first kill, but she understood.

  Ninsianna turned to the three exotic women.

  “Pareesa will take you to get some breakfast,” Ninsianna explained. “I'll come visit later. It will take us a few days to clean up after last night's battle, but then we'll figure out how to get you home.”

  The three foreign women thanked her and followed Pareesa on her way.

  “Mama,” Ninsianna said. “After he has had to … well … you know … he is very silent for a few days. Just give him his space, okay?”

  “I have seen this before,” Mama said. “With the other warriors. Even with your father. I know how to act.”

  “I know you do,” Ninsianna hugged her Mama and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I learned from the best. Now, I need to bring up some water for washing and clean clothes. I made him strip off his bloody shirt last night, but he is still covered in blood.”

  “If anybody comes to the door to pester him,” Mama said, “I shall chase them away with this." Mama shook her wooden spoon like it was a club. “Since Mikhail took so many of the raiders lives, your father will want to include him in the death rituals.”

  “I think Mikhail will agree … so long as nobody pesters him,” Ninsianna said. “Just tell them that, okay?”

  Chapter 82

  July – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili

  Mikhail

  A mortar exploded next to them, spraying them in the face with dirt. A man … no woman … screamed. Glicki!

  "Fall back! Fall back!" The order came over the radio.

  Mikhail rushed to her side, cradling her in his arms. Her green, prayer-like grasping arms were held close to her chest, trembling in pain.

  "Glicki," he said. "You're going to be okay." He touched along her green exoskeleton, which had taken the brunt of the shrapnel. Green blood seeped out of the joint of one of the four legs she used to walk.

  "I'm okay," she chirped out of the voice translator. "Good thing we come with built-in armor."

  Another mortar exploded, slightly further away. He shielded her with his wings as debris rained down upon them.

  "Can you walk?"

  She tried to move her leg and screamed in pain. Mikhail examined the wound. She was bleeding profusely. An artery had been hit. If he could tie it off, she would make it. Unfortunately, insectoid physiology was notoriously difficult to tourniquet. He had to get her out of here before she bled out.

  "Major Mannuki'ili?" one of the other soldiers asked. "What do we do?"

  He looked to the men and women in his special operations group, six of them. One was Angelic like him, the others were Mantoid. All fine soldiers. His sensitive ears could hear the Sata'anic lizards creeping through the underbrush on either side of them. Shay'tan wanted this planet, and he was going to take it from them.

  Mikhail looked first to his wounded friend, and then to his special forces team. Although the same height as him and slender, insectoids were heavy. -Too- heavy for an Angelic to fly out of here, not even with the stronger wings granted to him thanks to his Seraphim blood. Although Mantoids had wings, they were more suited to long flying jumps rather than the true flight Angelics were capable of. With her leg in such condition, Glicki couldn't fly. The Sata'anic lizards blocked their escape. There was only one thing they could do.

  His eyes met Glicki's green-gold compound ones. Glicki nodded. She knew what he needed to do, and she agreed.

  "We complete the mission."

  Tucking Glicki into a low point in the dirt with a tourniquet around her wounded leg, he covered her with brush, and then signaled his remaining team to fan out through the underbrush. It was time to hunt. Clicking the Cherubim meditations for stalking prey, he pressed his wings against his back and crept up behind a squadron of lizard-people trailing a rumbling tank. His team was vastly outnumbered. He was about to even those odds. It was not to his pulse-rifle he looked to now, but a silent one. His knife. He crept up on the first lagging lizard soldier, the man's tail bobbing from side-to-side with a bayonet strapped to his tail. With sharp claws on both their hands and feet, as well as their fangs, Shay'tan had bred them to do their best fighting up close and personal.

  Just the way the Cherubim had taught -him- to fight…

  Clutching his knife in his hand, Mikhail crept up silently behind him and slit his throat.

  Mikhail's eyes shot open. He sat up, his wings slamming against the wall as he reached for the knife he could almost feel in his hand and came up empty handed. He hyperventilated until he recognized he'd fallen back asleep in Ninsianna's room. Downstairs, the drone of voices reassured him everything was fine. A dream. It was only a dream.

  The lizard people! The Sata’an must be the demons Ninsianna foresaw invading her homeworld, but with so many memories missing he couldn't understand their motivation. He must prepare his adopted people for the battle to come.

  Chapter 83

  July – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Ninsianna

  The entire village streamed outside the walls to the place they buried their dead. The wind blew hot and oppressive across the featureless plain, for even a short distance from the river, this time of year the vegetation wilted in the sun.

  "Now we shall offer the dead a drink of water," Papa said. "So they do not grow thirsty on their journey into the dreamtime. Ninsianna? Will you do the honors?"

  Papa handed her the ceremonial water bowl. She received some odd glances from villagers surprised to see a woman openly aiding the shaman, but none dared speak against her or accuse her of being a sorceress. These were peculiar times and word had gotten around that she was the Chosen of She-who-is.

  "May you never know hunger or thirst again," Ninsianna chanted in a sing-song voice. "And may the goddess always grant your spirit pleasant dreams." She poured the first bowlful onto the head of the cairn marking the grave, and then moved on to the next one to repeat the ceremony until she got to the seventh one. Chills ran up her spine as she felt the dead touch her. Revulsion. Their hands were wispy and insubstantial. Somebody with unresolved issues, pleading with her to give them a voice.

  Although she could sense the disruption the dead made in the flow of the dreamtime by lingering here amongst the living, she'd never been able to understand what they asked. She'd always hated death rituals for this reason. Despite all of her talents, she'd never been able to communicate with the dead.

  "Papa?" Her voice came out as a fearful squeak.

  "It's just Ashusikildigir," Papa whispered. "Worried who will take care of her children. You must ask someone to step forward and swear the death oath that they'll care for them, and then she will cross over."

  Ashusikildigir had been unfortunate enough to live in one of the newer houses built outside the outer ring. They had gathered the archers and banged upon the doors to rally the warriors, but by the time they'd gotten to the gates, the Halifians had already raided the houses built outside their village. While privacy was nice, it was also an open invitation to raiders. The Halifians had tried to kidnap Ashusikildigar's two daughters. She and her husband had died protecting them. The daughters stood now at their parents grave, sobbing. One was eleven, the other nine.

  "Ashusikildigir is trapped between the realms," Ninsianna held her hands aloft the way she'd seen Papa do many times. "She may not enter the dreamtime until someone steps forward and swears the death-oath to finish raising her children. Let us pray for guidance so that Ashusikildigir doesn't haunt our village."

  She waited. The only reason the dead woman's spirit lingered was because she was not confident her extended family would care for them. In a land that required hard work to survive and was prone to periodic famine, few families were eager to step forward and rear somebody else's children. Some
times, like now, the extended family needed to be shamed into fulfilling their moral responsibilities. She waited, singing the song of guidance to She-who-is, waiting for the other villagers to grow weary of the immediate family's cowardice and start hissing insults.

  She glanced over to black eyes staring out of a pale, gaunt face, owl-eyed at the sight of a woman shaman, and felt a twinge of guilt. She pushed the thought aside. Uncle Merariy was still alive. Let Gita look to her own drunken father to take care of her!

  The villagers began to hiss at the couple hiding at the back of the crowd. "Shame on you!"

  A young mother with three small children hanging off of her, one still on the breast, stepped forward, Ashusikildigir's sister. Her husband stood far behind, his expression furious. It was obvious which one hoped to shirk their family obligations.

  "Do you swear upon your sister's grave to give shelter to and raise her two daughters as though they were your own?" Ninsianna recited the death oath.

  Ashusikildigir's sister gave her husband a fearful glance. Ninsianna could see the angry red light coming off of the man. He had no intention of keeping her promise, and refused to swear it himself. The girls would be turned out of their house the first opportunity he got, potentially along with his own wife and children. That thread of energy she always felt from She-who-is grew stronger, whispering how she could shame the wayward brother-in-law into really keeping his word.

  "Wait a moment," Ninsianna said. She held up her hand. Papa gave her an odd look. She put her hands across her eyes, using a trick she'd seen the other shamans do on occasion when they wished to enhance what they were saying using theatrics. "I sense …"

  She walked to stand in front of the brother-in-law. Her eyes glowed golden as she felt the call of the goddess, inviting her to slip into that stream of consciousness just far enough to receive HER wisdom.

  "You borrowed seed from Ashusikildigar's husband to plant your crops three years in a row, and haven't repaid it." Ninsianna felt as though she were a hyena moving in for the kill. Seed was expensive … and precious. "The seed is part of the girl's estate. You must repay this debt immediately."