Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One

by Anna Erishkigal

July – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Ninsianna

  The entire village streamed outside the walls to the place they buried their dead. The wind blew hot and oppressive across the featureless plain, for even a short distance from the river, this time of year the vegetation wilted in the sun.

  "Now we shall offer the dead a drink of water," Papa said. "So they do not grow thirsty on their journey into the dreamtime. Ninsianna? Will you do the honors?"

  Papa handed her the ceremonial water bowl. She received some odd glances from villagers surprised to see a woman openly aiding the shaman, but none dared speak against her or accuse her of being a sorceress. These were peculiar times and word had gotten around that she was the Chosen of She-who-is.

  "May you never know hunger or thirst again," Ninsianna chanted in a sing-song voice. "And may the goddess always grant your spirit pleasant dreams." She poured the first bowlful onto the head of the cairn marking the grave, and then moved on to the next one to repeat the ceremony until she got to the seventh one. Chills ran up her spine as she felt the dead touch her. Revulsion. Their hands were wispy and insubstantial. Somebody with unresolved issues, pleading with her to give them a voice.

  Although she could sense the disruption the dead made in the flow of the dreamtime by lingering here amongst the living, she'd never been able to understand what they asked. She'd always hated death rituals for this reason. Despite all of her talents, she'd never been able to communicate with the dead.

  "Papa?" Her voice came out as a fearful squeak.

  "It's just Ashusikildigir," Papa whispered. "Worried who will take care of her children. You must ask someone to step forward and swear the death oath that they'll care for them, and then she will cross over."

  Ashusikildigir had been unfortunate enough to live in one of the newer houses built outside the outer ring. They had gathered the archers and banged upon the doors to rally the warriors, but by the time they'd gotten to the gates, the Halifians had already raided the houses built outside their village. While privacy was nice, it was also an open invitation to raiders. The Halifians had tried to kidnap Ashusikildigar's two daughters. She and her husband had died protecting them. The daughters stood now at their parents grave, sobbing. One was eleven, the other nine.

  "Ashusikildigir is trapped between the realms," Ninsianna held her hands aloft the way she'd seen Papa do many times. "She may not enter the dreamtime until someone steps forward and swears the death-oath to finish raising her children. Let us pray for guidance so that Ashusikildigir doesn't haunt our village."

  She waited. The only reason the dead woman's spirit lingered was because she was not confident her extended family would care for them. In a land that required hard work to survive and was prone to periodic famine, few families were eager to step forward and rear somebody else's children. Sometimes, like now, the extended family needed to be shamed into fulfilling their moral responsibilities. She waited, singing the song of guidance to She-who-is, waiting for the other villagers to grow weary of the immediate family's cowardice and start hissing insults.

  She glanced over to black eyes staring out of a pale, gaunt face, owl-eyed at the sight of a woman shaman, and felt a twinge of guilt. She pushed the thought aside. Uncle Merariy was still alive. Let Gita look to her own drunken father to take care of her!

  The villagers began to hiss at the couple hiding at the back of the crowd. "Shame on you!"

  A young mother with three small children hanging off of her, one still on the breast, stepped forward, Ashusikildigir's sister. Her husband stood far behind, his expression furious. It was obvious which one hoped to shirk their family obligations.

  "Do you swear upon your sister's grave to give shelter to and raise her two daughters as though they were your own?" Ninsianna recited the death oath.

  Ashusikildigir's sister gave her husband a fearful glance. Ninsianna could see the angry red light coming off of the man. He had no intention of keeping her promise, and refused to swear it himself. The girls would be turned out of their house the first opportunity he got, potentially along with his own wife and children. That thread of energy she always felt from She-who-is grew stronger, whispering how she could shame the wayward brother-in-law into really keeping his word.

  "Wait a moment," Ninsianna said. She held up her hand. Papa gave her an odd look. She put her hands across her eyes, using a trick she'd seen the other shamans do on occasion when they wished to enhance what they were saying using theatrics. "I sense …"

  She walked to stand in front of the brother-in-law. Her eyes glowed golden as she felt the call of the goddess, inviting her to slip into that stream of consciousness just far enough to receive HER wisdom.

  "You borrowed seed from Ashusikildigar's husband to plant your crops three years in a row, and haven't repaid it." Ninsianna felt as though she were a hyena moving in for the kill. Seed was expensive … and precious. "The seed is part of the girl's estate. You must repay this debt immediately."

  "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