February – 3,390 BC
Earth: 12 hours earlier
Ninsianna
They were still looking for her. She could feel the clutch in her gut of someone attempting to force her to do something she didn't want to do. But … no. The sensation was not close. The chit-chit-chit of a squirrel reassured her she'd left no trail for the search party to track her. Exhausted, she dropped her satchel and sank to her knees.
“Mother of All-That-Is…" Ninsianna, whose name meant She-who-serves-the-goddess, raised her palms in a universal gesture of supplication. "The Chief has ordered I am to marry his son or no man at all!"
Curvaceous and tawny-eyed, with a magnificent mane of hair which cascaded down her back like a chestnut waterfall, Ninsianna had always been pursued by boys, but this was the first time one refused to take 'no' for an answer. The chief's son was persistent, and far too used to getting his own way to listen when she'd told him 'I just don't love you.' What did he think she was? A simpleton? Jamin only sought to increase his prestige by marrying the shaman's daughter!
"If I had been born a man, they would not dare treat me so!" Ninsianna stomped her foot. "Mother, I want a husband who will cherish me the way that Papa does my Mama! Not a servant to cook his food and bear his sons!"
She stared at the slender brook which only flowed because they were still within the rainy season. Whatever had possessed her to run away? Although her skills as a healer would be welcome no matter where she traveled, Jamin was known for his fierce skill as a warrior and also his temper. Without a protector, he would simply drag her back to Assur.
To her west the burning orange sun reunited with an ochre horizon, reminding her that refuge amongst the Halifian tribe would be even less desirable. The people of the desert took many wives and would make her cover her face and keep her opinions to herself; if they didn't sell her right back to Jamin for a hefty fee! Or worse … the enemy tribe might sell her as a concubine just to spite the Chief!
What other options were available to a runaway bride?
She rifled through the supplies she'd pilfered from her father, her mind whirring as she prepared to perform the ritual of divination. In a circle she placed a sack of bones to divine the future and dried parrotia to symbolize the spirit. Her hand trembled as her fingertips found the last item; a small, clay flask containing a tincture of belladonna berries and poppy pods. Ninsianna had never paid any heed to the prohibitions against women performing magic, but even she, who had never been a particularly obedient daughter, had always shied away from the potion which freed a shaman's mind to travel directly into the Dreamtime.
Oh, it wasn't like she could make the situation any worse! With false bravado she placed the flask into the center of the circle. Why should men determine the fate of women when it was a goddess who was the architect of All-That-Is?
She unwrapped her long fringed shawl and stepped into the brook, picturing the cool, clear water cleansed her spirit-light of her worries. Suitably purified, she dug soft yellow ochre out of the stream and smeared it all over her body to symbolize her willingness to return back into the Great Mother's womb.
"Papa says you favor this marriage because I'll stabilize Jamin's hot temper," Ninsianna said. "But Mother! Jamin has a terrible temper when he doesn't get his way! What will he do if I displease him?"
She felt the flow of energy shift as at last she piqued the goddess’ interest. Papa said the secret to using magic was to figure out what the goddess really wanted and then offer her a solution which would give her the same result. But what? How could she convince the goddess to spurn her favorite son?
The sun slipped beneath the horizon, casting the land into terrifying shadows. She gathered some twigs and fished out her firestone, anxious to fight back the impending dusk. The desert grew cold at night and hyenas prowled the wilderness, searching for an easy meal. Her lips moved in prayer as she thwacked the firestone against the striker. At last the desiccated leaves ignited. She fed the hungry red tongues sticks until the fire had grown enough to beat back the darkness like rays of a tiny sun.
Listening to it crackle, she contemplated solutions to her sorry predicament. Betrothed! To a man she did not love! All because she'd been foolish enough to believe Jamin would take her on future trading missions!
“Couldn't you make him fall in love with somebody else?" Ninsianna suggested. "He -is-, after all, the son of the Chief! Why not send him someone better so he forgets all about me?"
Her own brilliance lit up like the crackling fire. That was it! She would perform a love ritual for him! But who? Who would want the most eligible … and arrogant … man in the entire village?
Why not make him fall for Shahla? The strumpet had pulled a fit when Jamin had proposed to her. Ninsianna stared into the fire, picturing the consequences of such a union. Her intuition told her 'no.' Jamin only used the village trollop to satiate his baser appetites. Assur would become the laughing stock of the larger Ubaid confederation if their future chief took to wife a bride so well-used.
Perhaps her cousin, Gita? They were, after all, descended from the same warrior-shaman. Ninsianna contemplated her peculiar, black-eyed cousin with disdain. That wouldn't do. Not only was Gita as plain as dirt, but it would garner no prestige if the chief's son married the daughter of the village drunk.
How about Yadidatum? Her parents were well-off, at least as well-off as any in the trades. Soft-spoken, curvaceous and a talented weaver, Yadidatum would be a prize for any man to take home. Her intuition told her 'no.' Her friend was betrothed to one of the warriors, and everybody considered them a suitable match. Besides … for all his talk about submission, Jamin would never fall for someone who wasn't as strong-willed as he was.
Ninsianna placed another bundle of twigs into the fire, poking at the embers with frustration. Why did she have to find somebody else for him when it was She-who-is' plan?
"It would serve Jamin right to wed somebody powerful enough to put him into his place for a change instead of the other way around!" Ninsianna stabbed a stick at a log. "But who? Who would be tempting enough to get him to stop obsessing about me?"
A thrill of mirth welled up in her psyche. Ninsianna could almost feel the goddess laughing at her musings.
'Ninsianna … trust…'
A burst of white light radiated out from the fire, indicating the goddess found favor with her wager. Wind giggled through the soft fronds of grass which had not yet dried up for the summer. Locusts danced around her like butterflies as laughter welled up from Ninsianna's lungs, but the amusement was not her own. The goddess would decide Jamin’s fate and bring her somebody formidable enough to make even Jamin back off.
'Come child … I wish for you to see…'
She pried the stopper out of the flask and gave the sacred beverage a wary sip. Immediately, she began to choke. Ugh! It tasted like dirt mixed with goat urine! She had watched Papa only ever take a sip, but Ninsianna was determined to find a solution to her problem. Pinching her nose, she forced herself to gag down the remainder of the bottle.
A fist clenched at her gut with revulsion. Feeling quite ill, she stared into the fire, clutching her blanket, not certain what should happen next.
“Death would be preferable to life as a brood goat!” Ninsianna said. “Please, Mother! I'll do anything you ask! Just don't ask me to marry him!”
A paralyzing numbness crept through her limbs. Night fell. The sky turned black, plunging the desert into total darkness. The chirp-chirp-chirp of crickets took on the eerie percussion of a shamanic rattle. Her body shivered, but she could no longer feel the cold. A jackal howled and was answered by its mate, but instead of being afraid, Ninsianna felt as though she were part of the pack, relishing the thrill of the hunt. Grass and shrubbery glowed with an internal spirit-light, but never before had she seen All-That-Is this clearly.
She reached up to touch stars which whispered secrets older than the universe, wishing she could dwell amongst them instead of being stuck
down here on earth. She whispered the heartfelt plea she'd made every night to the deity who felt more like a mother than her own flesh-and-blood mother for as long as she'd been alive.
"Mother … when will you let me join you?"
'Soon, my Chosen One. But first you must do something for me…'
Ninsianna slipped into the flow of information, relishing the feel of the goddess' thoughts flowing all around her like the brook which gurgled at her side. Time and space became meaningless as she watched creatures fly between the stars in strange enclosed canoes, every kind of creature that could walk or creep or crawl. Her eyes were drawn to one of the sky canoes, the one She-who-is wished for her to see. A man unlike any she had ever seen battled a cancer which seeped into a vortex of spinning stars like pooling blood. As she watched, a blade of darkness reached out and smote his sky canoe, casting it out of the stars towards a round, blue stone she understood was her home. She sensed a query.
'This man can carry you out into the stars. Will you help him?'
"Yes, Mother," Ninsianna said. "I will help him."
A sensation not unlike a hug caressed her thoughts and carried her back to her own body. She and the goddess had reached an agreement. Whoever this man was, her fate was now tied to his. Content that her prayers had been answered, Ninsianna snuggled into her blanket and fell asleep.
Bathing in the stream the next morning to remove the sticky yellow ochre from her hair, she was not surprised to see an enormous ball of fire hurtle out of the sky and slam into the earth not far from where she'd just spent the night. Belting her shawl around her waist and flipping the end over her shoulder to cover her breasts, she gathered her things and headed in the direction it had gone.
Chapter 3
Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One Page 4
