Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (13 page)

The two needles rose until they were three meters off the floor, and then made a leaping movement like a Leviathan catapulting itself through the water, and disappeared without a sound. Joph
iel began to weep.

"Come, Master Yoritomo," the Emperor said. "I have other duties to attend to today. That filly can't do without me for long before
some
internal process needs tinkering."

"Hai, watashi no kōtei,"
Master Yoritomo gave the Emperor a quick nod. With a lumbering, clanking walk, he and the Emperor strode side-by-side out of the Great Room and disappeared into the doorway from whence the nanny and Dephar had come.

Dephar walked behind to throne to check on the gorock, now snoring peacefully. This was
not
how Raphael had expected his audience with the Emperor would go. He'd anticipated many things. To be punished for following his heart. To be treated with stiff formality. Anything … anything except to have the Emperor treat him like … family?

Jophiel did not resist as he pulled her into his arms and wrapped his large, golden wings around her smaller white ones.

"I assume the entire point of all this is that the Emperor feels it's too dangerous to keep Uriel around the palace?" Raphael asked.

"You've got 97 ships under your command," Jophiel said, "your men are not aware of the rebellion which has incapacitated the larger Alliance, and the only problems you've encountered so far are minor skirmishes with traders. Uriel will be safer with
you
than me. Right now the only thing protecting the Emperor from the will of Parliament is Abaddon's refusal to order his armies to engage the Cherubim."

"There's nothing out there
in
Zulu Sector," Raphael said. "Except a few marginally-habitable planets. It's the reason that spiral arm was never explored."

"If you find the planet," Jophiel said, "send in a reconnaissance team to determine how well Shay'tan's got it protected. Don't just rush in and save them. We have to figure out the supply lines."

"He cut off the Marid traders," Raphael said, "probably because he doesn't trust them. Wherever that planet is, Shay'tan cut off his own supply lines to keep us from tracking them to the human homeworld."

"They
must
be getting terribly short on supplies," Jophiel said. "Our intelligence says nearly a third of Shay'tan's ships have disappeared. It would take
months
for them to sneak into Zulu Sector from the outer perimeter of the galaxy, but once they get there, we'll
never
wrest that planet out of Shay'tan's hands. It's imperative that
we
get there first. Before Shay'tan resupplies his landing party."

"If I know Mikhail," Raphael said, "he's probably sneaking in under cover of darkness to hit the Sata'anic lizards where it hurts."

"Do you think he'd rally the humans?" Jophiel asked. "As soldiers?"

"Possibly…" Raphael thought back to his years of basic training with the brooding, dark-winged Seraphim. "He's a capable military commander, but his lack of social skills always hindered him with any grouping larger than a Special Forces unit. Unless Mikhail decides he
wants
to let you know him, he's about as sociable as a rock."

Raphael did his best impersonation of Mikhail's unreadable stare, which elicited from Jophiel a weak smile.

"Just find him," Jophiel sniffled. "Find your friend. You're not the
only
person who lost a friend the day Mikhail's ship went missing."

Just then the two needles reappeared above their heads.

"Ah!" Dephar called. "Brigadier-General Israfa. Could you please help me carry the gorock? I'm getting a bit old to be carrying around a pet."

"Yes, Sir," Raphael said. He picked up the awkward creature and tucked it into Jophiel's needle with a modified oxygen mask so it wouldn't suffocate. He turned back to Jophiel. "And what if the planet is too heavily defended, Sir, and for some reason I can't reach you. What are my orders?"

Jophiel's features hardened into the mask of their supreme military commander.

"Then call in
The Destroyer
," Jophiel said
.
"Abaddon promised his wife he would lay that planet at her feet. He will seize the old dragon by the tail and make him bleed, whether or not it serves Lucifer's interest or the Emperor's."

"Yes, Sir," Raphael gave her a crisp salute.

Raphael ignored the retreating Dephar, who had enough sensitivity to vacate the room so Raphael could kiss his mate goodbye.

"You'll come visit us?"

"If I can."

"We're just a needle jump away."

Her blue eyes darkened as Raphael crushed his lips down upon hers. It was a desperate, almost frantic feeling, this desire to make love to her right in front of the Emperor's empty throne.

A joyous note interrupted their kiss. A tiny, inconspicuous bird settled in a bush near the doorway which opened up into the Eternal Garden, warbling its cheerful song as though it had been granted an audience to sing before the Emperor. Jophiel broke their embrace and brushed at her eyes, embarrassed she'd let him see her cry.

"It's the Happy Bird," Jophiel said. "Perhaps it is a favorable omen?"

"I will find that planet," Raphael promised. "I will find that planet and bring home Mikhail."

With a final, desperate kiss goodbye, Raphael rammed his too-large wings into his needle's marsupium and stared up at the shapeless black mass painted on the ceiling to depict the Guardian of the Universe. Pitiless, dark eyes stared down upon him, reminding him of the consequences if, as the Emperor feared, the Evil One was on the move.

"I will find that planet," Raphael vowed to He-who's-not, "and bring Mikhail home to meet my family. This I swear to you. I will bring my best friend home."

He could have sworn as the womb-like marsupium closed around him that the darkness on the ceiling moved, giving him a glimpse of a muscular figure possessing bat-like wings that would have dwarfed the wings of even Emperor Shay'tan. Primal horror grabbed Raphael in the gut. Whoever this Agent of Ki was, they'd better fix the problem before
this
galaxy was the next casualty of the Dark Lord protecting his mate.

With a jarring dislocation, the needle catapulted him to the opposite end of the galaxy to rendezvous with the
Light Emerging
.

~ * ~ * ~

Time: Indeterminate

Ascended Realms

Bishamonten

The Cherubim God of War felt the summons milliseconds before his consciousness was yanked away from the aftermath of the battle where, against the rules, he'd participated in the outcome as a combatant. Before him stood the imposing Great Gate to the Infernal Palace, the a
bode of He-who's-not, also known as the Dark Lord. Fear ignited in what would have been Bishamonten's belly had he still possessed a corporeal form.

'I have been summoned,' Bishamonten thought to himself. 'And now I shall pay the price for interfering in the affairs of mortals.'

There was no sound here in the void, but if there
were
sound, it might be described as an endless, howling scream; the cry of insanity any living creature made when it stared into the nothing and recognized their own insignificance; the cry of emptiness, of hunger, of loss of life.

Bishamonten could
feel
the vibration which rippled through his exoskeleton as the enormous black doors swung inwards like a great black, ravenous maw. Compulsion drew him inside. There was no running away from the god who ruled the chaos underlying All-That-Is..

He sheathed his swords and stepped into the gargantuan, chthonic hall which rose out of the darkness, devoid of light, of life, of love. Not even a candle could remain lighted when
HE
summoned you unto his presence, but lifesparks transcended the power of the ancient god of destruction who, along with his mate, had created between them All-That-Is.

Bishamonten's own azure light thrust valiantly into the dark, illuminating the chess squares upon which he trod. As he stepped, each square revealed the galaxy that chess square represented. He paused to stare down at one as it cast a momentary, brave light into the darkness, its stars visible as it whirled peacefully on its axis, unaware that at any moment, the two immortals might gamble it away and cast its essence back into the void.

"Do not be afraid," a terrible, sonorous voice vibrated through the hall, everything about it screaming through Bishamonten's nerve endings to
RUN.
"I merely wish to discuss with you a problem."

Bishamonten stepped carefully through the massive chess pieces strewn about the hall like tombstones. He paused when he saw which square the Dark Lord's chess table had been placed upon, delineating the galaxy currently at play. In the chess square beneath the table spun the Milky Way, the galaxy Bishamonten had made his home.

A deep-seated thrum pulsated throughout the palace, a manifestation of He-who's-not's consciousness which held the otherwise formless construct into a shape which was recognizable enough to comprehend. The Infernal Palace had grown more solid since the last time Bishamonten had been summoned here, twenty-five years ago when the Dark Lord had asked him to take an orphan under his tutelage. It was to save that
same
orphaned Seraphim which had inspired Bishamonten to seize possession of the neophyte named Pareesa.

A titanic deity sat in total darkness upon his massive throne. Pitiless black eyes stared out of a stern face so inhumanely handsome it appeared as though it had been chiseled out of black volcanic obsidian. Every aspect of the Dark Lord bespoke his role as Guardian of the Universe, from the sword-like spikes which adorned his leathery wings to the scorpion tail which curled menacingly at his side. He had six horns which encircled his face like a deadly crown, and from his torso bulged striated muscles.

Even
he,
a god of war, feared the Dark Lord, for none had ever defeated the Guardian of She-who-is. But over the millennia he'd learned He-who's-not was not the evil entity mortal legend believed him to be, but merely a destructive one. She-who-is needed protecting. Sometimes
SHE
created things which put her at risk. The Dark Lord destroyed those things and recycled them back into his essence so
SHE
could use it to try again. There was nothing diabolical or malignant about the Dark Lord unless you were deemed a problem, in which case you'd better say goodbye.

"You summoned me, Your Eminence?" Bishamonten bowed.

"I did," the Dark Lord's orotund voice vibrated the molecules of Bishamonten's consciousness. "As you know, my Champion has fallen."

"I did my best, Your Eminence," Bishamonten said. "I saved his life. But I do not know if he will survive. His lifemate has been taken. Without her, I fear he cannot heal himself."

"I fear, even if she
was
present," the Dark Lord said, "that she would not be up to the task of healing him, even if we told her how."

"But they are now a mated pair!" Bishamonten exclaimed.

The Dark Lord leaned forward on his throne, his expression grim.

"Do you know what happens when you interfere in the affairs of mortals?" the Dark Lord asked.

Bishamonten forced his expression to remain neutral. Here it was. His punishment for interfering.

"Because lifesparks incarnate into this realm to accomplish their own purposes," the Dark Lord continued, "we never know, by interfering, how we might divert them from their chosen path."

"My apologies, My Lord," Bishamonten bowed, ready to take his punishment. "I…"

"…thwarted Moloch, who likewise wished to divert the Seraphim from his path," the Dark Lord said. His wing-spikes rustled with agitation, an ominous, deadly sound. "You did what was necessary, no more and no less, which is why I trust you to carry out my command."