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

by Anna Erishkigal

  "But I'm willing to help raise them!" the brother-in-law protested.

  "See that you do," Ninsianna said. "Or the Chief will demand recompense in the form of all you own so that two innocents don't go hungry."

  It was well known Chief Kiyan was a stickler about making people repay their debts. Especially when it left him holding the consequences in the form of two parentless children.

  "I will take the death-oath as well," the brother-in-law shivered.

  Ninsianna made the brother-in-law swear first, and then the sister. The death oath was legally binding. If either of them failed to follow through on it, the tribunal would treat them the same way they treated any parent who abandoned their own child. The sister looked relieved. The problem had never lain with her. Ashusikildigir's eldest daughter took the baby from her aunt and helped her carry it.

  The goddess whispered in the wind so clearly that some of the villagers looked at each other as though they could hear it, too: 'This man has lost my favor. I shall punish him and find a new provider for this family.'

  Ninsianna sensed the dead touch her again, but this time it didn't have that ominous feel it had always had in the past. The dead had asked her for a solution to a problem, and she had given it to them. She was not helpless.

  The wind blew her hair, whispering 'thank you' as Ashusikildigir crossed over into the dreamtime. Resuming the ceremony of the dead, she finished offering water to the remaining graves until all of the Assurians had been laid to rest. Papa took over and completed the death ceremonies for their own people.

  The crowd broke up, leaving only the warriors behind. Mikhail stood at the back of the group, his powerful wings pressed tightly against his back. Jamin lingered on the opposite side, as far away from the other warriors as he could get. He'd hesitated when the Chief had asked him to back up Mikhail and the other warriors had all witnessed it. Jamin was many things, but never before had she seen him act like a coward. More likely, he'd hesitated because he'd hoped the Halifians would kill Mikhail.

  She could sense the shift in energy away from Jamin now, even amongst his own warriors. Whenever the village was attacked, all petty disputes were to be suspended until the village was safe. What he'd done, or more precisely failed to do, had cost him face.

  "And now it is time to bury our enemies," Papa said. "These men attacked us without provocation. Kidnapping is an old Halifian trick. They hoped to lure the best warriors on a wild goose chase so we wouldn't be there when they attacked. Luckily, we were there. But they have cost the lives of eleven of our people, four of them civilians in their houses."

  Papa lit the sacred qat plant and moved to stand in front of the first grave, holding the smoldering bundle of dried leaves above it to chase away the evil spirits.

  "Although the temptation is great to dishonor their bodies," Papa said. "These men have paid for their actions with their lives. It's the law of She-who-is that all who die shall enter the dreamtime so that their lifetime choices can be made clear to them." He paused until a mild grumbling which went through the warriors ceased. "It's not up to us to judge them, but She-who-is."

  With stiff solemnity, Papa led the warriors through the death ceremonies for their enemies, far less elaborate than what was done for their own people, but respectful nonetheless. The men of the village had worked for two days digging graves. Early this morning, Mikhail had disappeared from their house. There was a small feather placed on each of the graves of men he'd personally slain. So many dead. So many feathers.

  "Ninsianna?" Papa asked. He handed her the bowl of water.

  Ninsianna poured a bowlful of water onto each grave, repeated the water blessing aloud as she'd done for their own dead, while silently praying the enemy dead didn't come asking for favors. Luckily, they didn't. When she reached the last grave, she felt a familiar presence, asking permission to speak. She'd done this once before the day She-who-is had spoken through her to prevent Mikhail from smiting Jamin. She was not afraid. With a smile, Ninsianna welcomed her mentor and spirit-mother into her body to speak

  “Today we honor our enemies,” She-who-is-Ninsianna spoke with a voice that made the air vibrate with energy. “But a much darker time shall soon be upon you. Darkness spreads across the stars. Ki's agent has failed. The Evil One has seized his mortal vessel and comes to claim your world."

  A cloud appeared from nowhere, blotting out the sun and momentarily casting a shadow across the enemy graves. A cold wind blew in the summer heat. Ninsianna felt a tug, whispering for her to move and stand in front of the group of enemy graves. Power surged through her veins as she felt the words bubble to her lips once more.

  "What separates us from our enemies is that we remember what it's like to feel compassion. It's what enables you to turn old enemies into allies. Remember this gift, for I-That-Am love all of my children, and you must unite all tribes to stand against those who would plunge the galaxy into entropy.”

  Ninsianna swooned. Her father caught her before she hit the ground. Mikhail rushed forward and held her up until she could stand on her own. Everyone who was present understood it was not Ninsianna who had just spoken to them, but She-who-is. The cloud dissipated as mysteriously as it had appeared, bathing the gravesites in sunlight once more. The warriors broke up and went home, the battle-rage purged from their bodies.

  Silently, Mikhail placed his large, strong hand over her small one and walked her home.

  Chapter 84

  July – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Jamin

  He lingered at the back, as far as he could get from Ninsianna and her eerie golden eyes. Any minute they would figure out what he had done!

  No. Of course not. Whispers had gone through the village. A traitor. Someone had passed intelligence to their enemies. But so far, no one had traced their suspicions back to him. How could they? This was not what he'd intended when he'd cut a deal with the Halifians to lead the winged one into an ambush.

  They'd double-crossed him! All the Halifians were supposed to do was rid his village of whichever female archers they could lure far enough away to kidnap without incident. Pareesa. Homa. Gisou. And Kiana. Females the age the Amorite slavers wanted. A surgical strike to remove a cancer from their midst. Attack had not been part of the bargain!

  Eleven dead! Eleven dead and forty-five Halifians. And eight Amorite slavers. The Halifians were supposed to back up the slavers in the dense foliage of an acacia grove. They'd chosen that as the kill box because trees would hamper the winged demon's ability to fly. They weren't supposed to attack the village!

  Eleven Assurians were dead! Their stone cairns stared at him. Accusing him. Taunting. Screaming. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

  The Halifian leader had given him intelligence, in return. Ninsianna was not the only person to have delusions of lizard people! The Amorites had told them the lizard-demons were only middle-men. The ultimate slave masters buying their women were none other than Mikhail’s own people! He'd been right all along! Mikhail was here to find their weaknesses!

  He couldn't tell. If he told his father what he knew, they would know he'd been the one to sell them out to their enemies. He hadn't expected them to send a raiding force against the village. The mercenaries were supposed to stay with Pareesa and kill Mikhail! Not attack Assur!

  This was not his fault!

  His cheek twitched, a nervous tic which had grown worse ever since the winged demon had stolen his girl. He could fix this. Yes … there was a bigger threat afoot. It was up to him to figure out a way to fend off the bigger threat. Maybe he could get the Halifians to side against their common enemy? Mikhail’s people. They were the enemy. They were the ones who demanded Ubaid women for slaves!

  How to fix. How to fix. Could he fix this? Yes … he was the chief’s son. He had to fix this. Only he could fix this mess. He was the only one who knew…

  “Jamin,” Shahla interrupted his whirring. He jumped, glancing to either side, fearful the others wou
ld see them together and put together the pieces of the puzzle.

  No. Nobody knew. Nobody knew he'd done this. Nobody except for her. His fists clenched as he contemplated whether he should kill her.

  “This was not supposed to happen,” Shahla wept. “This is all my fault! If I hadn't told them where Pareesa liked to hunt deer, this wouldn't have happened.”

  He should kill her. She was the only one who knew. How? He thought of ways to lure her away from the village. A spear? No. Her screams would alert the others. Strangulation. Yes, strangulation would be silent. But where would he hide her body? And who could he blame when her parents came looking for her? Laum was a wealthy man. He would not allow his daughter to simply disappear. Another kidnapping? Yes. That was it. He would make it look like Shahla had been kidnapped.

  Perhaps he could just sell her to the Amorites himself?

  No. For all her sleeping around, Shahla had never conceived a child. The Halifians said the slavers wanted breeding stock, not farm labor. Defective merchandise was turned out into the desert and allowed to die. What would happen if she escaped and made her way back to Assur? Now, or years from now, the other villagers would stone him to death for his complicity in causing the deaths of eleven of their own. He had to kill her. It was the only way to guarantee her silence.

  Shahla leaned into him, her head against her shoulder.

  “This was not your fault,” Shahla said with a sniffle. “You were only trying to do what is best for the village."

  Her arms slid around his waist. So trusting. So … loving. Shahla was in love with him. Even if he was not in love with her.

  'You're not a murderer…' the wind whispered.

  “I'm not a murderer,” Jamin said. His arms slipped around her shoulders as he sighed. “This was not supposed to happen. My father is blind." He pointed to where the winged one stood silently amongst the crowd. Watching. Watching every move the Ubaid made so he could report their weaknesses back to their real enemies.

  The Angelic race…

  When Mikhail had flown back into their midst to defend his father, he'd looked into his inhuman blue eyes. Although not black like the first time, what had stared back at him had still not been mortal…

  “He is the threat to our village,” Jamin said. “That's why they've been trying to take him.”

  “I'll do whatever I can to help,” Shahla searched his eyes. “That's what the wife of a future chief would do, wouldn’t she? Do whatever is necessary to support her husband? Even when everyone around them is too blind to see what is really going on?”

  'You're not a murderer…'

  “Yes,” Jamin kissed her. Even if he didn't love her, he was not a murderer. He wouldn't hurt her.

  But he did have to keep her silent…

  “Let’s go,” Jamin nuzzled her neck. “I want to make love to my future wife.”

  Chapter 85

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.07 AE

  Haven-1: Palace of the Eternal Emperor

  Supreme Commander-General Jophiel

  Jophiel

  A brown dragon-like snout peered out the door where she stood waiting, flanked by the two Cherubim guards who had been instructed to usher her inside the moment she arrived. The moment he spied her, a pleased grin appeared on Dephar's face.

  “Ahh! Jophiel! Come in!" The Muqqibat dragon held open the door as his golden eyes glowed brighter, the mark of a pre-ascended creature. "You'll find him in the usual place." He pointed down the endless rows of cages, piled floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall with life forms the Emperor tinkered with.

  She thanked the wingless dragon, slender and tall like the serpents that flanked both sides of Asclepius's caduceus, a symbol of knowledge and wisdom. Dephar had always made her feel welcome here, even when she showed up unexpectedly to disturb the Emperor's research on an important matter of military urgency, and she enjoyed his company. She shifted the sleeping Uriel to her hip so she could give the Emperor's top research genius a proper salute, and inquired about Dephar's own research before making her way through the labyrinth of narrow cages, all piled helter-skelter despite the best efforts of the army of laboratory technicians and scientists the Emperor kept in his employ to keep things organized.

  The Emperor's laboratory was a vibrant place, resisting organization or classification. No matter how hard his subjects tried to pigeonhole his work, things just turned out the way they were meant to be. She found him bent over an experiment, laboratory coat buttoned up wrong, but Jophiel didn't take offense when he didn't acknowledge her right away. The Emperor's work required absolute concentration. She waited for him to finish pondering whatever great thought occupied his considerable genius and glance up before announcing she'd arrived.

  “Reporting for duty, Sir!" She grabbed the sling to make sure Uriel didn't drop out onto his head. She'd not yet adjusted to the way his weight tugged her off-balance. Twelve babies she'd borne the Alliance, but this was the first time she'd actually needed to care for one of them. It was a lot more work than she'd anticipated!

  “Shhhh …. it's about to hatch."

  The Emperor motioned for her to step closer to the incubator so she could see creation in progress. Hashem was fully manifested into the material realms at the moment, wearing his usual form of a wingless human male.

  Fist-sized leathery eggs, perhaps belonging to a lizard, turtle, or snake, wiggled as they began to hatch. Although most subjects thought of the Emperor as a god-like creature sitting on his magnificent throne, this is how Jophiel loved him best. In his lab, wearing crumpled clothing that looked as though it had been slept in, white hair and bushy eyebrows tussled like a mad scientist, up to his elbows creating variations of life.

  “What are they?" She watched what could be a beak or a claw begin to chip through one of the eggs.

  “Gourocks[2] from Gemini-28." The Emperor focused intently on his new creations as they pecked their way into the world. “Miniature land dragons. Nearly extinct. I've given them a little enhancement. We shall see if that pushes them over the top so they can survive.”

  “What is the enhancement?”

  “Look and see,” he said. “You tell me.”

  Jophiel studied the first baby dragon to push its way out of the shell and give a little squeak. Soon, two dozen more followed. All were identical except for the last one, which didn't hatch. The Emperor took the egg and studied it.

  “It should hatch…” he said perplexed. “My tests showed all of the eggs were viable and had developing embryos.”

  “I don't see what the enhancement is,” Jophiel said. “I'm not familiar with gourocks.”

  “Let’s see how their mama reacts to them." The Emperor rolled over a larger cage until the doors lined up, and then lifted them so the dog-sized adult gourock whose eggs had been enhanced could view her offspring. “C’mon, mama….” Hashem coaxed. “Let’s see how you like your new babies.”

  The mother tasted the air with her forked tongue and walked in, claws splayed for balance upon the ground. She was a creature who had evolved in a dry environment. She recognized her eggs and studied the babies. Giving them a sniff, she accepted them, uttering a reptilian bark to call her babies to her side. At the same time, the last remaining egg began to shudder as a tiny claw picked its way through the shell.

  “Oh … I see it now!” Jophiel whispered, amazed at the subtlety of the Emperor’s tinkering. “They have webbed feet and their skin is just a little different. Water dragons! These babies can survive a wetter environment!”

  “Yes,” the Emperor said as he watched the last egg hatch. “And they're smarter, too. Gemini-28 has been experiencing climate change. The sea levels are rising. Soon, there won't be much dry land left to walk upon. These babies will survive a marshy environment.”

  “Here’s the last one!” Jophiel whispered. “C’mon, little guy…”

  The last baby hatched, but its evolution from desert to swamp creature was more extreme. Whereas the others had just the hi
nt of webbed feet and aquatic skin, the last one’s aquatic features were more pronounced. The feet were fully webbed, the skin soft like a frogs, and the tail had a paddle to propel it through the water. The head was streamlined so it could swim with less resistance, but longer to fit a larger brain pan. The mother gourock hissed and swatted it with her tail, rejecting it. The baby gourock curled up into a ball and whimpered.

  “And those are the consequences of tinkering with the work of She-who-is." The Emperor picked up the little lizard and put it into a separate cage. Millions of such cages lined the walls of the Emperor’s laboratory, a testament to the consequences of his constant tinkering.

  “Poor little guy." Jophiel pulled Uriel closer. “His mama didn't want him.”

  “I used to think I could just create life and it would be good,” the Emperor said. “But the older I get, the more I realize everyone needs a family." He looked Jophiel in the eye. “She-who-is has just reminded me of that fact. So what are we going to do to rectify this problem?”

  “I would like to tender my resignation, Sir,” Jophiel said. “With the baby taking up so much of my time, I don't see how I can defend your Alliance and take care of Uriel.”

  The Emperor pondered her request.

  “Jophie,” he said. “You're my most trusted advisor. Without you, I'm afraid the Alliance would collapse. Without a strong military deterrent, Shay’tan will invade this sector and enslave millions.”

  “But, Sir,” she protested. “It's only been two weeks and already hybrids are refusing to give up their babies. They say they want to raise their own offspring because I'm doing it. Please … discharge me as a traitor and condemn my actions. Your empire depends upon it!”