Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One
Page 84
July – 3,390 BC
Earth: Outside Assur
Ninsianna
A night owl.
Ninsianna heard a rustle of feathers as her love swooped down from the sky and landed in the attackers midst, his sword already drawn. As he'd done that night at his ship, he cut down his assailants like a scythe harvesting wheat, ensuring with an automatic backstab to the heart or quick decapitation that his attackers wouldn't be getting back up. Leaping into the air when necessary, not only did his wings help him levitate before dropping down to strike again, but they also provided him with two additional fighting limbs, blunt instruments, as though they were clubs.
The first time she'd seen him thus, she had mistaken his efficiency for darkness seizing control of his body, but now that she knew him, her goddess-enlightened eyes saw the pattern to his moves, the smooth choreography of the beautiful killing dance, the ice which ran through his veins as he separated that part of himself that could feel from the part that could kill. His sword sang with delight as it swung through the air and made contact with human flesh. Although his dance was deadly, Ninsianna recognized from the blue light which streamed through his body that he had turned himself into an instrument of HER will.
With Mikhail’s return, new hope kindled in the defenders. The warriors rushed in to engage their attackers once more, having enough sense to stay clear of Mikhail’s arcing silver blade. He stood head and shoulders above them all, a mighty winged oak anchoring her people's resolve, urging them to stand together and fight as an army instead of every man for himself. Ninsianna released arrow after arrow, signaling the archers to provide cover for the tide of Assurians who now teemed forward, the mere sight of the demi-god fighting in their midst giving their warriors heart. Chief Kiyan sensed the shift and directed the flow to block the attackers escape.
The enemy recognized Mikhail was now the greater threat, not the defenders rushing at them with spears. Their leader shouted for his men to regroup and focus on the symbol of Assurian hope, wings flapping as he reaped Halifian lives like stalks of grain.
The Chief had fought enough battles in his lifetime that he recognized the shift in tactics away from killing him to killing Mikhail. The older warriors from his own generation moved solidly behind the Chief, both following and protecting their leader. The Chief was still their secondary target. There were too many enemies surrounding him to come to Mikhail's aid. The Chief turned to his son who battled their enemies with no rhyme, reason, or heart.
"Jamin … provide cover!" The Chief pointed his spear towards Mikhail. Siamek and the younger warriors fell into line behind him, ready to follow Jamin into the thick of battle.
Jamin took a step towards Mikhail, turned into a golem once more, and froze…
Ninsianna could almost see the flashback that leaped into Jamin's mind. Damn! Not only was Mikhail still exposed, but so now was the Chief! Chief Kiyan witnessed his son's hesitation and signaled Siamek to step forward and take over the task. The Halifian mercenary the Chief had been battling moved forward to stab him while he was occupied, stepping out of the cover provided by an Assurian warrior who had been blocking Ninsianna's shot. The pathway suddenly clear, she drew her bow and let the arrow fly, shooting the Chief’s opponent in the heart. The Chief glanced up and met her gaze, nodding appreciation before he moved on to engage the next attacker.
With a shout, Siamek led the younger generation of warriors to fight at Mikhail's side, smart enough to stand out of his flight path as he hacked and whirled. The young men moved with disorganized determination, but with Mikhail moving methodically from the greatest threat to the least talented opponent, their individual skills made up for their lack of coherence. Halifian taunts quickly turned into screams of the dying as the tide of battle turned in favor of the Assurians and the enemy only sought to escape.
Within a matter of heartbeats it was over. Forty-five Halifians and eleven Assurians lay dead. As one wounded Halifian reached for his bow, Mikhail cut him down without so much as a backwards glance.
"Come, we must tend the wounded!" Ninsianna shouted to the other archers.
They climbed down from the rooftops and moved through the carnage to help their wounded warriors. The chief approached Mikhail to thank him.
"Oh, no!" Ninsianna shouted and held up her hand.
Chief Kiyan gave her a puzzled look, still panting from his recent exertions.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” she warned.
“I was just going to ...”
Ninsianna pointed to the bodies piled at Mikhail's feet.
“Give him a moment. Once he has calmed down, he will appreciate the sentiment, but not now. Let him be until the blood lust passes from his veins.”
Thankfully Mikhail took to the air without a word, circling the village and keeping watch, no doubt, as his shadow passed repeatedly back and forth across the moon. The villagers came flooding out their houses to help the wounded and grieve for the Assurians who had died. Her father came up behind her and put his hand upon her shoulder.
“You described it,” Papa shook his head. “But I didn't believe it until I saw it for myself. It's as though the gods themselves act through him. Now I understand why the old songs describe his kind as the swords of the gods.”
With the sight granted to her by the goddess, her purpose for sending Mikhail here to reside amongst her people was becoming clearer. The words of the Song of the Sword came into her mind, the meaning of one particular verse so palpable it felt as though the goddess herself was singing the words.
'A sword of the gods to defend the people, and raise armies from the dust…'
“He had help, Papa.” Ninsianna gestured to the warriors and archers who had helped win the battle. “Mikhail has done this before. We haven't. If he hadn't been here, we would have been overrun. You must go to the Chief first thing in the morning and demand he order all of the warriors be trained to fight like that, male or female, young or old.”
“Like Mikhail?”
“Yes.” She felt the thread which energized her whenever she was given a vision by the goddess. “She-who-is sent him to prepare us. The demons that are coming will be a lot worse than these Halifians. Mikhail must prepare us to battle not just men, but demons, because he won't always be here to defend us.”
“But you and he are about to be married!” Papa said.
“And so we shall,” Ninsianna said. She remembered her vision and shivered. “But when the darkest one of all arrives, Mikhail won't be here to defend us. She-who-is has shown me this will be so.”
“But Mikhail loves you,” Papa said. “Why would he not protect you?”
“I don't know why, but he won’t,” Ninsianna said. “She-who-is has shown me that we must learn to defeat these demons ourselves.”
“I'll speak to the Chief,” Papa said. “I sent Kiana to get your mother so she can help our wounded. Go to Mikhail as soon as he lands. I saw an arrow sticking out of his wing.”
Ninsianna’s heart leaped to her throat, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I will find him and bring him home.”