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

by Anna Erishkigal

  “It's not sleep I had in mind, my love,” Mikhail nuzzled his cheek against hers before playfully nipping her neck. “It's now autumn. We shall have to think of an activity to warm up the bed before we can crawl into it.”

  He looked as though an enormous burden had just been lifted from his shoulders. His spirit light no longer reached for the stars, but were now firmly centered on the earth. She could see him let go of the mission which had eaten at him the entire time she'd known him. Mission … accomplished. Cupping his hands underneath her behind, he picked her up and carried her into the sleeping quarters for her requested ‘sleep.’

  Chapter 109

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.09 AE

  Earth: Sata’an Forward Operating Base

  Lieutenant Kasib

  Lt. Kasib

  Lieutenant Kasib's claws trembled as he knocked on the door to his commanding officer's office. General Hudhafah stood as he always did these days, poking pins into an evolving map of the planet. Each day they logged new territory, new resources, and new tribes that either needed to be wooed with promises of the good things Sata'anic rule would bring, or troublemakers roughed up so the rest of their populace could be brought under Sata'anic control.

  “Sir,” Kasib said, “one of our ships in orbit just registered a brief data burst emanating from the planet." Kasib's tail twitched with worry.

  “Where did it originate?” General Hudhafah hissed. His shoulders bunched as his dorsal ridge reared in anger, an old-school general ready to plunge into battle to defend against any threat.

  “The area called Mesopotamia,” Kasib's tongue darted out to nervously taste the air. “It didn't last long enough to isolate the source. It's a large area, like hunting for a scale in a pile of snakeskins.”

  “Was the message long enough to convey significant data?” Hudhafah asked. His gold-green serpentine eyes narrowed into slits.

  “No, sir,” Kasib said. “It cut off before complete coordinates could be relayed. The signal was extremely weak. The nearest known Alliance ship is on the border with Tango sector. It's unlikely the message got through.”

  “Good,” Hudhafah exhaled. “The last thing we need is a command carrier full of hybrids showing up to investigate." The general pointed to a cluster of pins on the map. "Isn’t that the same area we’ve been getting rumors of someone organizing tribes to fight our allies?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Kasib said. “We've been unable to locate the remains of the Angelic ship. It must have been completely destroyed. Do you think he survived the crash?”

  General Hudhafah picked up another pin, a red one this time signaling potential enemy forces, and absent-mindedly jabbed himself in the finger with it, not hard enough to draw blood.

  “When dealing with hybrids,” Hudhafah said, “It's necessary to imagine the unimaginable. There's a reason we have been unable to overthrow the Eternal Emperor even though we outnumber Alliance forces six to one. The hybrids are tough bastards. Don't ever underestimate them.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Kasib said. "Should we send in our forces to hunt him down?"

  Hudhafah stared at the tiny black pins clustered around the Sata'an Forward Operating Base and the even smaller cluster that shuttled back and forth between the SRN Jamaran in orbit and the planet. Few. Too few…

  “What was the bounty we put on the ringleader's life of that tribe near where the data-burst emanated from.” Hudhafah asked.

  “A bag of paint sparkles, Sir,” Kasib said. “They call it ‘gold’.”

  “Quadruple that reward." Hudhafah's fangs showed through his self-pleased smirk. “Just in case it is an Angelic. Let’s watch the humans kill the only creature who can prevent us from annexing their planet.”

  “Shay’tan be praised." Kasib gestured to his head, his snout and his heart in a universal gesture of worship of Shay'tan, their benevolent Emperor and god.

  Chapter 110

  September – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Crash Site

  Ninsianna

  So comfy…

  Ninsianna resisted waking up, languishing in the dreamy warmth of her husband's firm torso and soft wings.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said. The smirk he always had as he watched her resist the morning blossomed into a full-blown smile. “At the rate you’re going, we’re going to be late getting back.”

  “But it’s so nice and warm here!” she whimpered, luxuriating in his warm feathers. “I don't want to leave!”

  “We could always stay another day." He nuzzled her cheek. “Who would have thought life in an agrarian society could be so hectic?”

  Ninsianna groaned. Last night's urgent dream, while not a nightmare, had been a gentle reminder that she must not impede the real mission She-who-is had sent him to accomplish, organizing and training her people to address the coming threat. Yesterday, after sending his message, Mikhail's spirit-light had re-centered here on her world. Or more precisely, onto her. She must not indulge the temptation to make him cater to her every whim, as he seemed perfectly happy to spend the rest of his life doing.

  “No,” Ninsianna gave him a regretful smile. “You must get our people trained. And I promised Mama I would help her bleed sap from the myrrh bush to make the paste that defeats evil spirits in an infected wound.”

  With a kiss, Mikhail released his hold, allowing her to slip from the warmth of his downy wings and sit on the edge of the bed. As soon as she did, her stomach lurched. She'd been hiding the symptoms for weeks now, telling him she'd eaten something disagreeable or that her sudden bouts of dizziness were merely the heat. This morning, however, she would have to tell him.

  The moment her body became vertical, nausea overcome all other thoughts. With a cry of dismay, she jumped up and ran to the closet he referred to as a ‘bath room.’

  “Ninsianna … are you okay?" He leaped up to follow her.

  “Yes,” she choked out in between dry heaves. He gathered her hair and pulled it out of the way, although there was nothing in her stomach to throw up. This was her first pregnancy, but she was certain her sickness was more severe than that of the women she'd helped her mother tend to over the years. Mikhail was a larger than a human male. It made sense that his child would put a greater strain upon her body.

  “Are you sick?" With her head in the urn he called ‘toilet’ she couldn't see his face, but she could hear the concern in his voice.

  “I'm fine.” Her voice echoed inside the bowl, giving it a strange tinny quality. “This is perfectly normal.”

  “No ... it's not,” he said. “You were sick last weekend too. I'll fly back and fetch your mother.”

  “There's nothing Mama can do about it." The heaving subsided. She risked sitting upright so she could see his face as she broke the news to him. “It’s morning sickness.”

  “Morning sickness? What is making you sick in the morning? You never got sick before."

  Mikhail didn't know what morning sickness was? Subtlety was not going to work. She would need to spell things out for him.

  “You're making me sick. Or more precisely, you did something to make me sick. It's all your fault, you know?”

  “-I- did this to you?” A look of horrified confusion crossed his beautiful, chiseled features. “I'm so sorry! What did I do wrong?”

  Ninsianna giggled. Seeing his anguished look, she started to laugh even harder.

  “Ninsianna?" Her irrational behavior confused him. His expression retreated into that unreadable one he wore when he was not sure what to do. “What's so funny?”

  “Mikhail,” she said. “Haven’t you noticed that the first thing I do the minute I get out of bed every morning is run for the urn?”

  “Yes ... you said it was nothing,” he said. “Are you ill?”

  “Mikhail ... I'm pregnant.”

  “What?”

  “We're having a baby.”

  “How did this happen?”

  “Oh ... I distinctly remember there was lots of kissing and passion
ate lovemaking involved. Did you somehow ... miss it?”

  “No ... but...”

  “And then there was moaning and thumping your wings against the walls. And that funny little sound you make when you orgasm...”

  “But...”

  “And then there is that really funny face you make when you're trying to control your passion, just ... like ... this." She did her best impersonation of the face he made whenever he reached ecstasy.

  “I don't make a face like that,” he said as the reality of what she was saying sank in. “Do I?”

  “Yes, you do,” Ninsianna said. “And I love it. And I love you. And now we'll have a baby to love, too.”

  “But..." Her words finally registered. An ecstatic smile lit up his face. He reached out and pulled her into an embrace. “Really?”

  “Really." She nestled her cheek into his chest.

  “Wow!" He led her back into the sleeping quarters to crawl back into bed. “I had hoped ... but ... so fast ... I didn't see that coming!”

  “Mikhail?" She curled into his side as he protectively curled one wing around her, relishing the sensation of being loved by an angel.

  “Hmmmm.....?” He caressed her chin between his thumb and forefinger as he gazed into her eyes, his expression one of utter contentment.

  “Do you think our baby will have wings?”

  They decided the warrior training and myrrh sap could tend to themselves for one day as they snuggled and discussed their hopes for the new life growing in her womb. Ninsianna didn't, however, tell him about her dark premonition. Pushing it out of her mind, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

  Chapter 111

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.09 AE

  Zulu Sector:

  Command Carrier ‘Light Emerging’

  Colonel Raphael Israfa

  Raphael

  “Colonel Israfa,” Major Glicki said, “I picked up a weak transmission from Zulu sector. It's a compressed data stream from Colonel Mannuki’ili. I'm running it through a decompression sequencer now and boosting the signal.”

  “Put it on screen right away!"

  Raphael jumped out of his seat as the image of his best friend came upon their central viewing screen. It had been seven months. Mikhail was alive!

  “Raphael ... my ship is toast … the Sata’an Empire has set up a large base on an M-class planet at these coordinates ... Zulu three zero one eight crackle crackle...”

  “Boost it again!” Raphael ordered. “I need those coordinates!”

  “I'm sorry, Sir,” Glicki said, “I boosted the signal as much as I could. There's nothing left to boost. That was all he was able to send. With a signal so weak and our position different than when we lost him, it's a miracle he got a message through to us at all.”

  “Sir?" Sergeant Sachiel, another Angelic, pointed to the petite, dark-haired woman standing at Mikhail's side. “I thought Colonel Mannuki’ili went on this mission alone. Who is the Angelic at his side? She looks … odd…”

  Raphael took a closer look at the image frozen on the screen. Mikhail had his arm around a pretty, black-haired female, her features even darker than the unusual coloring possessed by his friend. He was also smiling, something Mikhail almost never did. Had he crash-landed on a planet with a surviving colony of the dark-featured Seraphim? Raphael thought they had all been wiped out?

  “Magnify the image and run the female through a facial recognition scanner of all known Angelics,” Raphael ordered. “Maybe we can isolate his position that way.”

  “Sir?" The quaver in Glicki's voice was perceptible even through the mechanical aid of the voice-booster. She broadcast the magnified image onto the screen. “You'd better take a look at this.”

  She blew the image up to focus on the female. The reality of what they were looking at dawned on them.

  “Holy shit,” Sergeant Sachiel said.

  “Is that…?” Ensign Zzz’lrr asked.

  “It can’t be!" another Mantoid said.

  They all stared in stunned disbelief at the magnified 12-foot high image of a wingless human female standing at the Colonel’s side, filling the entire room with her presence.

  “Glicki!” Raphael shouted. “Get Supreme Commander-General Jophiel on the horn right away. Alpha-priority-one! I don't care what she's doing. Tell her I need to speak to her yesterday!”

  “Sir … she is scheduled to meet with the Eternal Emperor,” Glicki said. “What do I say to get her out of that meeting?”

  “Tell Hashem I found his solution!” Raphael whooped with glee. “Colonel Mannuki’ili just found the godsdamned Holy Grail!”

  Epilogue

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.09 AE

  Ascended realms

  Eternal Emperor Hashem

  Hashem

  “You old devil!!!” Hashem shouted as soon as enough of his consciousness had phased into existence to form a mouth. “How long have you been keeping the human root stock up your sleeve?"

  “That's for me to know,” Shay’tan said congenially, a toothy grin on his dragon-like snout as he sat in front of the galactic chess board. “And for you to find out.”

  “Goddess!!!” Hashem shouted. When SHE didn't make an appearance, or at least check in on them, he called her again.

  The normally even-tempered Hashem let out a rare stream of curse-words that would have made a Marid pirate colony blush when he realized She-who-is was deliberately ignoring him. He'd been around the block enough times to recognize when he was the chess piece being played in the eternal game between She-who-is and her opponent, He-who's-not. As soon as his laboratory assistant had burst into his meeting with the news, he'd made all deliberate haste into the ascended realms. The ‘room’ where he and Shay'tan met wasn’t really a room at all, but an artificial construct comprised of the consciousness of She-who-is. There was no way she didn't know what was going on!

  “If you're looking for someone to chastise me for keeping chess pieces up my sleeve,” Shay’tan nonchalantly sharpened his claws. “Then you're whining to the wrong deity. Everybody knows She-who-is is the biggest cheater going. How do you think she's kept He-who’s-not from destroying the universe all these years?”

  Hashem looked at the chess pieces splayed across the board. In a heartbeat, the game had just been turned upon its head. Whoever gained control over the human homeworld would get complete dominion over this galaxy. Without a fresh infusion of genetic matter, his hybrid armies would die out. On the other hand, with unfettered access to the root race, Hashem could breed a new generation of super-soldiers and kick Shay’tan out of this galaxy once and for all.

  Noticing the black chess pieces surrounding his missing White Knight One, Hashem suddenly smiled. The human homeworld was not within the bounds of either empire. It was completely up for grabs! Whoever’s armies got dominion over that world first would win. The only problem was, Shay’tan knew exactly where the planet was and had a base there, while Hashem didn't. He must find the confounded planet and prevent Shay’tan from sending in reinforcements.

  “White Knight Two to Zulu-Sector-Three." Hashem picked up his second white knight and made the L-shaped leap into Zulu Sector where the first white knight had gone missing.

  Hashem phased out of the ascended realms before Shay’tan could say another word. He needed to mobilize his forces for what was likely to become the largest battle over a critical resource planet since the Second Galactic War.

  End Book 1 of the Sword of the Gods Saga

  ‘The Chosen One’

  Begin Preview – Book 2 – ‘Prince of Tyre’

  PREVIEW – ‘Prince of Tyre’

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,183.02 AE

  (240 years ago)

  Haven 1: Eternal Palace

  Eternal Emperor Hashem

  Hashem

  “He has a right to know!” the dark-winged Angelic screamed as her labor pains intensified.

  “She-who-is forbids it."

  The Eternal Emper
or Hashem paced the secret back room of his genetics laboratory as though –he- were the expectant father. “You must keep this child's existence a secret.”

  “You and your stupid game of chess!” Asherah spat in an uncustomary bout of cussing. “Shemijaza is my husband!”

  “He should have thought of that before he launched a rebellion!”

  For millennia Hashem and Shay'tan had played chess to resolve their differences, and if that didn't work, then they gathered their armies and went to war. Neither old god had gained dominion over the galaxy until one day Hashem's greatest general rebelled. Declaring himself to be the leader of a 'Third Empire,' Shemijaza seized a string of planets too close to the old dragon's border to quash without igniting an intergalactic war. With the Sata'an Empire nipping at his Galactic Alliance, the last thing Hashem needed was a civil war!

  Dark-haired, dark-winged, with eyes so blue they were the color of the Haven sky, Hashem had thought it a stroke of genius to send the beautiful, soft-spoken Asherah as an ambassador to entice the rebel leader into rejoining the Alliance.

  “You were sent to negotiate a treaty!" Hashem jutted his finger at the foolish woman. "Not to marry him! I can't let the Third Empire gain legitimacy by allowing Shemijaza to produce an heir!"

  “I'm half-Seraphim." Asherah panted to control her pain as her contraction intensified. "When we consummated our marriage, my life became tied to his. I should be dead already!”

  “You're half shipboard Angelic,” Hashem said. “You can survive if you so choose, as you have already demonstrated by coming here!”

  "We're not farm animals to be bred and used as cannon fodder in your endless war against Shay'tan!" Asherah clutched her belly. "Our species is going extinct and you do -nothing- to help us! It's the only reason Shemijaza rebelled!”

  Hashem's wild, white hair and bushy eyebrows jutted outwards as though he were a mad scientist. What had once been a symbol of his brilliance as a geneticist, his ability to splice together disparate life forms to create new ones, had become an embarrassing monument to his own incompetence. The genes which carried his army's animal features were recessive. To maintain them, he'd been forced to inbreed them until they had lost the ability to reproduce. Nothing, not his ascended powers, not the best in vitro fertilization methods his teams of scientists could dream up, had been able to fix it.