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

by Anna Erishkigal

  Although Pareesa was only twelve years old, some of the warriors were not that much older. It was not the inspiration Mikhail hoped would motivate the men to practice in earnest, but he would take it.

  "Let's get started!" Mikhail barked. "Siamek? Please lead the first group down to the river."

  Their first march was sloppy and the lines were anything but crisp, but by the time they hauled the twentieth bucket of water into the fields, the clomp-clomp-clomp of their leather-wrapped feet hit the soil in unison. The sun slipped beneath the horizon and the dusk grew so dark that they would have bumped into one another had it not been for the sound of their feet and the off-color marching songs Mikhail taught them to help them keep the beat. By the time they were done, the men were tired, but feeling as though they had accomplished something.

  They broke for the night and went home.

  Chapter 87

  Late-July - 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Ninsianna

  With a sigh of relief, Ninsianna plunked down her basket of vegetables and wiped the sweat off of her brow. Out of the sun ... at last! With the sun well past its apex, the temperature should have begun to cool, but this time of year the heat was reluctant to release its grip upon the land. Mikhail used to help her perform the back-breaking labor of weeding the garden, picking rhinoceros beetles off of the plants and dropping them into a bowl of water to drown the ravenous cousins of the scarab beetle before they could devour their crops. But along with his newfound prestige as commander of the village defenses came a deficit of time.

  She grabbed a ceramic cup off the shelf, decorated with symbols pressed into the clay with her own hand, and dipped it into the bucket of water she refilled twice per day from the communal well. The tepid water slid down her throat, already warm from sitting even though the temperature was cooler inside the house. She fished a strand of hair out of her mouth that had plastered itself to her cheek and plopped down upon the bench, wishing fervently she had time to take a nap.

  Papa hurried in the door behind her, carrying an assortment of trinkets related to his trade. An eagle feather, although Ninsianna preferred to use one of Mikhail's, a small bowl for water, and a tiny clay plate used for burning dried parrotia leaves.

  "Why not select a symbol for the Earth from your basket?" Papa asked. While he spoke, he cleared a small space in the center of the room and unrolled a carpet for them to sit upon.

  "Which one, do you think?" She contemplated the bounty of their labors. Small white eggplants rested upon a bright green bed of broad beans, mustard greens and leeks.

  "What does your intuition tell you, child?"

  "All of these vegetables please She-who-is," Ninsianna said. "But I think today I shall use a leek."

  "And why is that?"

  "Because the tastiest part of it grows in the earth," Ninsianna said. "But the stalk reaches towards the sky. Where I wish to travel as soon as our troubles here are done."

  "Are you so anxious to leave us, daughter?" Papa asked.

  By his injured expression, Ninsianna knew she'd hit a nerve. Jamin had manipulated that fear, both with the Chief and also her own father, to get them to agree to attempt a forced union. As Mama's only full-fledged apprentice, she was too valuable an asset to allow to leave, a fear made greater by the fact that Papa had lured Mama away from another village. That had been the Chief's motivation for acting as he did. As for Papa ... he just wanted to keep his little girl close to home.

  Ninsianna looked towards the door, the brilliant sunlight beckoning from beyond the mud brick house. How could she tell her Papa, who she loved more dearly than anyone in the world, that as soon as Mikhail finished whatever great task the goddess wished for him to perform, she would prevail upon him to fix his sky canoe and carry her into the heavens like She-who-is had promised the night they had made their bargain?

  "Isn't that what you're teaching me to do right now, Papa?" Ninsianna lied. "To reach towards the heavens and listen to the will of She-who-is?"

  Papa gave a satisfied grunt. He lowered himself to the floor and began to arrange the items around the carpet. He didn't light the parrotia, there being no fire burning in the oven right now and no time to light one from scratch. The elements he used in his rituals were more to aid his own focus than a requirement of She-who-is. He gestured for Ninsianna to join him on the mat. She grabbed the fattest leek and scrambled down to join him, placing it in the north to complete the circle.

  "Today we'll learn how to find information about healing someone whose flesh has become riddled with evil spirits," Papa said.

  "Shouldn't we be trying to spy on the Halifians, instead?" Ninsianna asked. "I heard Eshnunna was attacked again and three women taken. Perhaps we can find them for them?"

  "That would necissitate the use of kratom," Immanu said. "And we don't have time for that today. Let Eshnunna's own shaman travel to find their women. I, for one, don't wish to spend the rest of the day nursing an upset stomach and sleeping it off when the raid could have been prevented had they sent two emissaries to learn archery when the other villages did."

  “Is it always necessary to use Kratom to travel with the mind?”

  “I have always found it helpful,” Papa said. “But some shamans can travel without it when their need is great.”

  “Have you ever done it?”

  “Yes,” Papa said. “But not often. You have to do it often enough to train your mind to travel without the drugs. It scares your mother. She doesn't like it when I travel, so I do it as little as possible.”

  “You shouldn't let Mama prohibit your magic!" Ninsianna felt the thread that connected her to the goddess tug at the edge of her consciousness. “We are conduits of She-who-is. The will of the goddess is more important than our individual needs.”

  “Ninsianna? Come back, child. I can't teach you if you don't stay here.”

  “Papa? Oh!” Ninsianna realized she'd allowed herself to become distracted. It was much more interesting to listen to the thoughts of She-who-is. “I'm sorry. What did you say we would be learning today?”

  “I'll teach you to look into spirit-light of another to discern illness,” Papa said. “It's the gift your mother possesses.”

  “Mama sees the spirit light? She has never spoken of it to me.”

  “Until now, it was been forbidden to teach women the skills of a shaman.” Papa got a guilty expression. “I was not supposed to teach her.”

  “I can see the spirit light,” Ninsianna said. “But I don't always understand what I'm looking at.”

  “How easily can you see it since She-who-is enhanced your vision?”

  “I see it all the time now,” Ninsianna said. “But if I want to see where it's flowing, I have to concentrate.”

  “My gift doesn't come as naturally as yours does,” Papa said. “I can see ... but I must mediate and focus. Mama uses the gift much more naturally, but she feels it rather than sees it. She must concentrate to see what she feels.”

  “The gift is beautiful,” Ninsianna said. “But it's rather distracting. Sometimes I find myself watching the light somebody casts off when they speak instead listening to their actual words.”

  “The light always tells the truth,” Papa said. “Whereas words can lie. You must pay attention to both. If somebody is being dishonest, either to you or to themselves, that's something you need to know.”

  “How do I use the light to see sickness?”

  A shadow which fell across the door. Mama shuffled inside, supporting an elderly neighbor, Mahtab, who puffed for breath as she walked. Ninsianna coud see blackness surrounding her heart. An angry red line spread down into her arm and up into her head.

  “Mahtab has been experiencing dizziness and pains to her chest," Papa said. "You should look at her spirit-light while Mama explains what sickness she has.”

  Mama helped Mahtab over to the bench Ninsianna had vacated earlier. The old woman sighed with relief the moment she sat down and labored to cat
ch her breath. Mama grabbed another cup from the shelf and offered their neighbor water. Mahtab drank the first one down and asked for another before her breathing finally settled down. As she did, the blackness lessened, but the red line didn't go away. Mama wore the unreadable expression she often wore when she knew the news was not good, but didn't wish to let her patient know how bad things really were.

  “Ninsianna, what do you see?” Mama asked.

  Ninsianna tapped into that sense of knowing.

  “I see her artery is clogged with an ugly yellow substance that's blocking the blood,” Ninsianna said.

  “Her what?”

  “The thick line that carries blood into the heart." Ninsianna used the word Mama knew instead of the strange words which had jumped into her mind.

  “And what treatment do you recommend?”

  “I'm not sure,” Ninsianna said. “I can see what is there. But I don't know how it got there or how to remove it.”

  “You're using your thoughts to see,” Papa said. “You must push your thoughts to the side and allow She-who-is to show you the information.”

  “Is this how you see things, Mama?" Ninsianna was surprised that her mother had possessed this ability all along and had never spoken of it.

  “Not in the way that you do,” Mama said. “I don't quite see. I feel the illnesses of others as though it were an echo within my own body. She-who-is has given me the gift of empathy.”

  “Can you see it, Papa?”

  “I can,” he said, “but only with great effort. She-who-is has given you a magnificent gift.”

  “Ninsianna,” Mama said. “What treatment will help Mahtab feel better?”

  Ninsianna reached down into the thread that connected her to She-who-is. It felt like diving into a river of consciousness, all the thoughts that had ever existed and someday would be. Not finding the information she sought, she dove deeper, riding the current and learning many wonderful things. For a moment, she forgot all about who she was and why she was there, swimming in the thoughts of She-who-is.

  “Ninsianna, you must focus..." Papa's voice sounded far away. Some part of her recognized that her own voice was speaking, verbalizing what she saw and saying it aloud, but she was not in control of it.

  “She has gone too deep into the dreamtime,” Mama's voice said. “Immanu! You must pull her out!”

  “Ninsianna... Ninsianna.... Nin.si.an.na......”

  The current carried her away to all sorts of pleasant dreams. The stars sang to her, welcoming her into their midst. She didn't wish to return to the room with the tired old woman with the bad heart. Following the stream, it led her to a room with two men playing chess, only one of them was a big red dragon instead of a man. Both creatures contained equal amounts of darkness and light, but the dragon carried a bit more darkness than the man.

  Their names jumped into her mind. She understood the game they played and why they played it. As she watched, Emperor Shay’tan tried to take the white queen and Emperor Hashem moved a white knight to prevent it. On the far corner of the board, a second white knight sat surrounded by black chess pieces, forgotten by both of the players. It was Mikhail. She was certain of it. The opponents were so engrossed in their game that neither of them noticed her floating there in the same stream of consciousness as they inhabited.

  As she watched, a white bishop moved of its own volition, not noticed by either player. Urgency clamored in the stream-of-consciousness which surrounded her, making sure she noticed what the two old gods had missed. The Evil One was on the move! The players nodded amicably and disappeared. No longer interesting, it was only an empty room. Ninsianna remembered that she was here for a reason. She rode the stream of consciousness further until, at last, she came to the information she'd originally sought ... how to help her neighbor reduce the pain in her tired old heart.

  “Ninsianna!”

  Mikhail? She could hear him call to her. She searched, but she couldn't find him here amongst the beautiful things the goddess allowed her to see. Oh, no! She remembered her father's warning about not becoming so fascinated by the dreamtime that she forgot about her body. She needed to go back, lest she let go of the thread which connected her body to her spirit.

  “Ninsianna! You have gone too far into the dreamtime. You must come back.”

  Ninsianna followed his voice. She was not frightened, but it took her a long time to find her way back. At last she felt Mikhail's hand touching her cheek. She was almost home. Willing herself to follow his touch, she brought herself back into her own body.

  “Mikhail,” she smiled breathlessly, eager to share what she'd just seen. “I heard you. When did you get home?”

  Mikhail crushed her into his chest and held her so tight that it hurt. The sigh which escaped his lungs was almost a cry of grief. Why was he trembling?

  “You were gone so long we were afraid you wouldn't find your way back again.” Papa said.

  “Where is Mahtab?" It was now dark and the fire burned in the oven.

  “She went home hours ago,” Mama said. “You went to that other place. We thought it best to send her home while I fetched Mikhail to call you back.”

  Mikhail released her from the embrace, but he continued to hold her hand as though he feared she would dive back into that place and never return to him.

  “What did you see, Ninsianna?” Papa asked.

  “I saw Hashem and Shaytan,” she said. “The two old gods who divide this galaxy between them. They were playing chess. Shaytan tried to take the white queen and Hashem blocked it with a second white knight. And I saw you, my love, on their chessboard. Way off in the corner with us. And I saw the white bishop. The white bishop is moving on his own. The old gods didn't notice him, but I did! The Evil One is about to do something neither old god expects!”

  “I think ... I think I have heard this before,” Mikhail said. “Something about two old gods dividing the galaxy between them in a game of chess."

  Worry creased his brow. Ninsianna reached up and smoothed it to reassure him she was fine. Mikhail kissed her hand, concern marring his beautiful, strong features.

  “You must be more careful when you ride the currents of the dreamtime,” Papa scolded her. “If you get lost, your body won't be able to take care of itself and you'll be trapped in there forever.”

  “But it was so pleasant there,” Ninsianna said.

  She reached up and touched Mikhail’s cheekbone, her fingers sliding down to caress the firm line of his jaw. The dreamtime had been so pleasant. If not for the goddess' sense of urgency about communicating the information about the white bishop, in all honesty, she probably would have stayed there.

  “I know,” Papa said. “You looked very content while your mind was gone. Normally the teacher would come in and drag their student back, but you went much further than I have ever been able to go. Usually a new student can't travel that far without first drinking the sacred beverage. I was not expecting it.”

  “I would have come back on my own, Papa,” Ninsianna said. “Just not right away. After I saw the chess game, I found the information Mama wanted. Mahtab should drink tea twice per day with three leaves of the yellow foxglove in it. It won't prolong her life, but it will make her more comfortable while she is here.”

  “That's one of the correct treatments for a weak heart,” Mama nodded approval. “Although I would have preferred you didn't scare us to get that information. I already knew it.”

  “Did you learn it in the dreamtime, too?”

  “No, child,” Mama said. “I learned it the hard way. By apprenticing with the Gasur village healer and memorizing it. My gift is to diagnose, not to enter the dreamtime. Only your father can enter the dreamtime.”

  “You can do both,” Immanu said. “But like me, sometimes you need a little help to find your way back. Next time, I'll teach you how to leave markers so you can find your way out on your own without a caller."

  Papa reached out and grabbed Mama’s hand. He smiled, and
Mama smiled back. She'd always thought of her parents as, well, parents. Not lovers the way she thought of Mikhail. Thinking back, though, their affection had always been palpable. Her father adored her mother. She'd always taken her parents relationship for granted the way children often do. Now she'd a new appreciation of their bond.

  Mikhail wore that too-serious expression that he habitually donned, especially when he was worried about her. Watching. Observing every detail. Calculating it in his mind and running a thousand different scenarios about how he could be prepared to defend her against any threat. His race had long ago abandoned the dreamtime in favor of tek-no-lo-gee. He would need time to acclimate to her newfound abilities.

  “I'll always come back,” she reassured him, his flesh betraying the fear he would never allow to show in his face. “No matter how far I travel, Mikhail, I will always come back for you.”

  Chapter 88

  End-July – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili

  Mikhail

  It was a sorry looking, hang-dog dead group of men who gathered for today's lesson. Even though it was after supper, the lengthening shadows did little to alleviate the mid-summer heat. Mikhail stood, wings flared, each feather fluffed out in the vain hope of catching the non-existent breeze. How was he supposed to motivate men to give more than they'd already given to their fields, their trades, and their families, when all that he, himself wanted to do was crawl under the nearest canopy and take a nap?

  "I'm glad to see you all came back for more," he said.

  The warriors grumbled a half-hearted response. By the way most leaned on their practice-staffs for support, they wanted to dump a quick bucket of water on their fields and go home for some rest. Had they not gotten fresh reports of villages being raided, he might have indulged that urge, but they couldn't afford to be complacent. Assur must learn to protect itself. Not just depend upon him for a security blanket.