Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (149 page)

The women provided blind cover fire, barely glancing up to take aim, raining down arrows so the lizards shot at
them.

One by one, Behnam knocked the jars into the alley. Pareesa could not help him because their perch sat at the wrong angle to take the shot without exposing herself fully, but old Behnam's aim was true. It never occurred to the enemy the shards of broken pottery were a threat as they fell down onto the ground.

Pareesa watched eagerly like a vulture watching a crocodile awaiting prey to come and take a drink. Behnam's last arrow flew off of the rooftop behind them, trailing black smoke as it flew towards the sticky substance left behind by the falling pots.

"This is it," Kiana gripped her hand.

The fiery arrow dropped into the black, sticky mixture of pine resin, burnt chalk, sticky tar from the sand, brimstone, and an extract from well-composted shit-and-piss laden bedding from the goat sheds like a small, red bird landing in a field.

Hellfire erupted in the alley. The lizard demons screamed as the substance ignited into a conflagration unlike anything Pareesa had ever seen before. The Ubaid cheered. Flames licked up the walls, burning anything onto which had splattered even a few drops. The invaders rushed forward, trying to escape what Mikhail called
The Kill Box.

"Shoot them!" Chief Kiyan's voice was heard from the upper wall.

Dozens of arrows flew off the next higher level of rooftops, killing any enemy who tried to escape the alley by running forward. The walls on either side of them blocked their escape, and behind them the liquid fire burned them alive.

The stench of smoke and cooked meat wafted their way, reminding Pareesa she hadn't had any breakfast. A blue-man rushed forward, knelt down, and leveled off his firestick at the archers on the upper wall. Pareesa popped up and took a direct shot, then dove down again. One by one, the Assurians picked off any man who tried to rush through. Mikhail claimed fire magic was a common part of any defensive strategy, but he'd hoped the lizard demons would be so cocky they would underestimate them, and so they had.

At last the flames from the clay pots began to subside. The enemy regrouped into a second wave. This time, no matter how many arrows the Assurians fired at them, it was inadequate to prevent the enemy from getting through. A fat pig-man strode forward carrying a device that looked like an enormous tube kneeled mid-way through the alley and hoisted the device onto his shoulder.

"What is that?" Gisou asked.

"Trouble," Pareesa said.

Both women shot at the pig-man, but he was so far back in the alley that neither arrow hit the mark.

"Damantia!"
Pareesa cursed.

*Woompf*

A big, fat fire-arrow catapulted out of the enormous tube and flew over her head, trailing smoke and sparks. It slammed into the wall just beneath the upper rooftops where the second line of archers stood. The wall behind her exploded into an avalanche of dust and rubble.

"Goatshit!" Pareesa threw her arms over her head.

The men on top of that roof screamed and several fell to their death. Bits of flaming rubble rained down onto Pareesa's head.

"Fall back to the second ring!" the Chief bellowed from above.

The archers gathered their remaining arrows and crept along the rooftops until they came to a safe place to ascend. Homa gripped Pareesa's hand and helped her over the edge. The archers lay in each other's arms, panting with a mixture of terror and exhilaration.

"Goatshit, that was spectacular!" Gisou giggled like a hyena.

"What did Mikhail call that magical potion again?" Homa asked.

Pareesa struggled to pronounce the unfamiliar word.

'Napalm.'

~ * ~ * ~

February: 3,389 BC

Earth: Village of Assur

Jamin

Jamin clung to the shadows as he used his knowledge of the village to scurry down from the rooftops and work his way up into the second ring. He could feel Lucifer inside his head, for the creature that lived within him had made his mark upon him, taken him for himself, and Jamin had given himself willingly to the demon, had walked knowingly into the fire to burn along his side. And yet…

His hand slid down to touch the treasure box he'd slipped into the pocket of his long, Sata'anic trench coat. A thought fought to come to the surface, but no. Whatever it was, it danced right out of his mind.

Instead he laid his hand upon his pulse rifle. If Mikhail had found a new source of magic for his firestick, then there was no dishonor in meeting him with such a weapon. It had been the awesome power of the pulse cannon which met with his disfavor, for as eager as he'd been to take down Assur's walls, that wall was an obstacle, an inanimate obstacle to be taken down and destroyed. The pulse cannon was a tool, like a team of men wielding stone axes or wooden digging sticks. To kill a man in his sleep with such a weapon, however, nay … that kind of killing lay ugly on his palate.

So where was Mikhail? He watched the skies, but saw no sign of a dark-winged shadow silhouetted against the dawn. Where were the gunships that were supposed to provide cover fire for his Sata'anic friends? Both vessels had simply disappeared.

An explosion sounded from the south gate. With or without a gunship, the lizard people were launching their offensive. Soon, his people would submit to Sata'anic rule … or die. If they submitted, they would learn to read and increase their crops. If they submitted, they would receive medicine which would wipe out disease. If they submitted, Ubaid women would submit to their husbands, and support them wholeheartedly, instead of spurning them on a whim.

The compulsion Lucifer had laid upon his mind whispered to him and taunted his self-delusion.

'Go smite those who have done you wrong, chol beag…'

Bitter memories rang sour in Jamin's ears, echoing until they drowned out the sound of pulse rifles being fired at the Assurians from the south gate of the village.

'What is the sentence of the tribunal?'

'Permanent banishment.'

'Banishment.'

'Banishment.'

He covered his ears and ran until the voices stopped tormenting him, the voices from his past which reminded him of his sins. He blinked and realized where he stood. The widow-sisters house smelled lightly of fermenting beer, but there was yet no scent of baking bread due to the attack upon their village.

He stared at the door, an old, tired door, worn from too much use just like the two old women who lived behind it. He looked for Shahla's ghost, but she had not returned since the day he had spared Qishtea a death-blow. Where was she, this girlfriend he had spurned? And oh, how much he wished to see her again so he could remind himself that he had brought his fate down upon himself!

He turned to leave, but the voices started up again, the voices which tormented his mind.

“What is the sentence of the tribunal?”

“Banishment. Banishment. Banishment…"

"Get out of my head!" Jamin shouted at the Devourer of Children.

'If you truly wish to rule this world, you must make your enemy suffer...'

He turned to leave, but as he did, he stared at his own hand, but it was no longer
his
hand, but the hand of an all-powerful god.

Entire worlds sprang from the primordial goo with a twist of his hand, endless stars and the universes which birthed them, planets, oceans, animals and people. He showed him what it felt like to create two species and pit them against one another just to see which one would be the victor. He showed him species he'd shaped exclusively to hunt, for the hunt amused him, and others he'd shaped as prey. Entire universes grew, but he hungered for more until the building blocks had been consumed. He ate the galaxies. He ate the stars. He ate the planets. And he ate the creatures he had created to give him an endless supply of food.

Oh, gods he was hungry! But he knew not what he hungered for!

He slipped his hand into his pocket and came once more upon his mother's treasure box, a small box, a black box, cool to the touch and reassuring. He slipped it out of his pocket to study the peculiar symbols carved into it which even the Sata'anic
tek-no-lo-gee
had been unable to translate. Something niggled at his subconscious. Something his mother had wanted him to always remember. He opened the lid and took out the small white feather which he'd placed there to remind him of his dreams.

'It is you. The man within my dreams…'

He remembered the promise he had made to the voice in the desert, the price he'd agreed to pay to right the wrong he'd inflicted upon Shahla and her baby. He looked up and saw that Shahla had appeared before the door, her rag doll in her hands, but there was no reproach in her eyes. She was simply here to remind him that he owed her a debt. Tears welled in Jamin's eyes, for she had not abandoned him after all.

"I shall tell them," he said. For he knew in his bones that Gita was coming, and when she did, she would bring with her evidence to exonerate Shahla of her crime.

He shut the box, and then he flipped it upside down to press upon the small, carved symbols in the sequence his mother had made him memorize, an elaborate sequence he hadn't remembered until now. A tiny drawer popped out of the side. Inside the drawer was a magnificent golden talisman he knew to be a
key
, ornately carved, held upon a lengthy golden chain.

It was that key he held in his hand when he opened the door and slipped inside the house owned by the lead member of the Tribunal. Not his pulse rifle. And not his knife. But the key, held before him like an offering to She-who-is. He held the key because he understood it held the salvation of his people.

He never saw the spear.

Pain tore through his belly.

Jamin screamed.

He yanked out his pulse rifle and fired before he saw who'd killed him. With a withered cry, Zhila slid to the ground, a great, gaping hole burned into her chest, dead before she hit the floor.

Yalda cried out and clutched her
own
chest as though she had felt her sister's death-wound.

Jamin gripped the threshold as he held out the key. Blood spilled forth from his lips as he whispered the words the widow-sisters needed to know.

"Bring Mikhail to the temple of Ki," Jamin said. "When the two emperor's meet, they shall both know what to do with this."

The room turned blurry. When he woke up again, he still lay upon the threshold, Zhila's spear buried in his gut. He laughed with the irony as he recognized the spear which had killed him was the very same spear Zhila had kept above her mantle for 54 years, the one Mikhail had used at the harvest festival to beat him, the spear she had used to catch her husband's eye. From the blood which poured forth from his lips, he knew he would not be alive for long.

'It is you. The man within my dreams…'

He did not wish to die within this village, to have his body desecrated before it was brought before his father. There was no deed he could ever perform to wipe the sin from his spirit, for he was evil and he knew it. But outside the gate lay the one man who could understand him, the one man who could accept him, the one man into whose arms he wished to die.

With a strangled cry, he pulled the spear from his gut and used it as a staff to heave himself up off the floor. His intestines spilled forth like a great, bluish-grey serpent, but he held them inwards, only will alone forcing him to move. The world spun, but the compulsion to get back to the man he had made love to after the Devourer of Children had left his vessel grew overwhelming, the angry young prince who'd made him realize that all the power in the universe meant nothing if you never knew what it felt like to be loved.

He picked up his treasure box and tucked it back into his pocket, but he left the key, for he knew no matter what happened, he must never allow that key to fall into the Devourer of Children's hands. He glanced at Yalda lying upon the floor, panting as though it had been
her
he'd shot instead of her sister.

"I am sorry," Jamin whispered. Blood dripped down his chin. "Tell Mikhail his wife is still alive, but he'd better hurry, for Moloch intends to use his child as his next vessel."