Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (21 page)

"You send me picture-words?" Sarvenaz whispered. "Tell me how your battle go? Drop hints when you come see me again? But no tell me what your battle plan! Never know when lizard get your picture words and tell old dragon what Abaddon plan to outsmart him."

Abaddon's heart filled with pride. What had he done to deserve a prize such as her, this warrior queen that Lucifer had transported across the heavens to be his mate? Shay'tan would be defeated, not by the
Destroyer
his opposing emperor had genetically engineered to do battle on his behalf, but one of the very humans the old dragon sought to enslave. That thought pleased him immensely...

"Three times a day," Abaddon promised with a hawkish grin, an expression those who had done battle with him before knew well. "Four if I can sneak away to send an extra transmission from the battlefield."

The sound of Captain Shzzkt's voice announcing it was T-minus-six hours until engagement, interrupted them before he could recover enough to make love to her a second time. The announcement was repeated, adding that if people intended to evacuate to the safe zone, they needed to do so
now
before the ship was out of shuttle range. That last tidbit was a reminder for
him,
for none dared knock upon the
Destroyer's
door and interrupt his time with his wife if they valued their head still attached to their body.

"It time to go, Husband," Sarvenaz said sadly. "Sarvenaz already pack things. Even baby things. Just in case…"

She did not finish the thought, and
he
did not finish it for her. Just in case this battle was the one the
Destroyer
finally lost and forced Sarvenaz to rear their daughter alone. They arose from the bed in silence, only the occasional sob breaking the moment as Sarvenaz strapped back on his weaponry as though she installed him into a suit of ancient armor.

Major Pharzuphel met them in the designated launch bay, her
own
state of dishevelment attesting to the fact the
Destroyer
wasn't the
only
person on the ship who'd succumbed to the urge to say goodbye to their mate the
proper
way.

"She's in good hands, Sir," Phazruphel said. "Valac picked out a widowmaker for me to carry." She pointed to a nasty-looking pulse rifle which bordered between a rifle and miniature pulse canon. "Anyone who bothers her will have to answer to
me.
"

"See that it is so," Abaddon said. He glanced up at where Sarvenaz had sat in the co-pilot's seat and placed her hand against the glass. "Because if anything were to happen to her, it would kill me more certainly than if Shay'tan, himself, incinerated me with his fire."

With a crisp salute, Phazruphel marched up the gangplank, her eyes filled with tears as she gazed across the hanger bay to her
own
mate lurking in the shadows as the hatch closed. Neither of them dared to flaunt their secret marriage further. The penalty for breaking the anti-fraternization laws was to be reassigned to opposite ends of the galaxy, rotation schedules desynchronized so that the lawbreakers never got to see each other again so long as they were legally obligated to serve their 500 years in the military.

Abaddon saluted Sarvenaz as the shuttle lifted off and then turned to exit the shuttle bay doors. Valac fell into step behind him as Abaddon made his way back to the bridge where two lines of triangles blinked closer to one another across an imaginary, gerrymandered border. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Two spectacular armies edged closer to start a war. Beneath his feet, the thrum of the
Jehoshaphat
grew more insistent, a ship whose engines had been stuffed with fuel cells so she'd have as much power as she needed to navigate in and out of battle.

There was a moment of silence across all radio channels as his fleet pulled up to the spot the
Prince of Tyre
had disappeared, presumed destroyed, the place where Lucifer had died. Even the
Jehoshaphat
grew more silent. Now, not only was his species godless, but they no longer had their morning star to guide them into the dark. A half-light year away, Shay'tan's war fleet did the exact same thing.

"What do we do, Sir?" his navigation expert whispered. "We're outnumbered six-to-one."

"A good plan, violently executed now," Abaddon snorted, "is better than a perfect plan executed next week."

He
flared his wings like a raptor about to dive off a cliff and kneeled, pressing the palm of his hand against the floor of the bridge. He shut his eyes and imagined he was one with his ship, this first-wife who had been his first, although no longer his greatest love. He imagined it was
she
he made love to now,
she
he would guide to ecstasy, this warship who loved to hunt. He imagined taking off the imaginary tethers Hashem had placed upon the
Jehoshaphat's
wing-like hyperdrives and casting her into the air.

"Let's go hunting,
beag gorm
," Abaddon whispered to the
Jehoshaphat
.

Straightening and sitting down into his commander's chair, Abaddon flared his wings and gave the order to cross into Sata'anic territory.

~ * ~ * ~

November 3,390 BC

Earth:  Village of Assur

Pareesa

The sentries fell silent as the sad procession wound its way into the gates of Assur. Never had Pareesa felt so weary, not even after they'd fended off the attack where hundreds of enemies had died. With each step, Mikhail's sword grew heavier, an unwelcome burden now that she understood what that burden entailed. Why, oh why, had the Cherubim god chosen
her
to bear this responsibility? She … a thirteen summer girl?

'Because you asked for it.'

That reassuring hum of power tickled the crown of her head and reminded her the Cherubim God of War yet hovered around them, ready to let her draw upon his strength if their procession was ambushed by the enemies who'd run off to escape the onslaught of the other village's warriors. A grim laugh escaped Pareesa's throat.

"What's so funny?" Yaggitt asked.

"He won," Pareesa said.

"Who won?" Yaggitt stared at the enormous pair of black-brown wings which cascaded off the wagon where Mikhail had been placed like a sacrificial offering.

"Mikhail did," Pareesa said. She pointed at their escort of warriors from every Ubaid village. "Mikhail went to that meeting for one reason, to make the other villages realize there was a bigger threat than their petty differences. Even with a knife sticking out of his chest, he beat them. He won."

"It sure doesn't look that way to me," Yaggitt said.

"Well that's the story we need to tell." Pareesa lifted her chin with grim determination. "You didn't look into the Evil One's eye as it sat there and gloated."

"Immanu said the sky canoe is nothing but a soulless golem," Yaggitt said, "what Mikhail would call a 'machine.'"

"I felt the malevolence coming off of that thing," Pareesa said. "Ninsianna was on that ship. I am certain of it."

Yaggitt's look was doubtful.

"You think she is dead?"

Yaggitt shrugged.

Pareesa stared at Gita walking mournfully beside the cart at Mikhail's head, bending occasionally to whisper encouragement into his ear.

"If he believes that," Pareesa said softly, "then we shall surely lose him."

"Then let's pray Gita can fool him," Yaggitt said. "If anyone can fool him, she can."

They walked in silence. A runner came jogging up from further back in the line where groups of warriors helped the injured hobble along.

"How's Ebad?" Pareesa asked.

"Unconscious," the runner said. "He lost a lot of blood."

Pareesa glanced back, torn between her duty to Mikhail and her desire to explore this feeling which whispered it was time to grow up and recognize what was right before her eyes. If Ebad died, would she ever find such a man again?

No. The old god's scorn as he had pointed out her foolishness had been clear. She should go to him. No. She shouldn't. Ebad was unconscious. The Cherubim god needed her here.

"Make sure you keep a cloth pressed against Ebad's shoulder," Pareesa said. "If he wakes up, tell him I said he'd better live or I'll drag him out of the dreamtime and make him do a thousand pushups."

The runner gave her a weak grin. Pareesa knew how every man on her B-Team felt about her fetish for administering pushups as a punishment.

"I'll do that," the runner said.

He jogged back, carrying updates on Mikhail's condition to the wounded at the back of the line. So long as he was alive, it gave them hope, held this frail coalition together which might end up costing Mikhail his life. It was up to her now to keep it together, even if it meant stretching the truth.

She sniffed and looked away from Yaggitt so he wouldn't see her cry.

Exhausted warriors trailed back to their houses to spread the news while Ipquidad pulled the wagon to Immanu's house. Ninsianna's father had run ahead to prepare Needa for the ruse. The door opened. A distraught face, not Needa's, but Homa's, one of Mikhail's eight original archers stood ready to accept him into the house of healing.

"We're home," Pareesa heard Gita whisper to Mikhail. "
Mo ghrá
we have made it home."

It was eerie how closely Gita echoed Ninsianna, from the way she moved to the sound of her voice. The cousins
did
look alike, or they would have had Gita not been so thin and stunted. Oh, Gita was as plain as Ninsianna was beautiful, but they had the same wide eyes and shapely eyebrows; only the fact one girl bore gold eyes and the other black differentiated them. It was a good plan, this lie Pareesa had concocted to fool him. After all she'd done to save him, she wasn't about to let something as insignificant as the truth get in her way.

"Bring him inside." Pareesa projected a false air of gravitas.

Siamek came trotting out of the shadows. "Any word on Chief Kiyan?"

"Not yet," Pareesa said. "Qishtea took three warriors to the burning tents to see if any survived."

"C'mon, take over!" Siamek ordered his top-tier warriors. "These men are so exhausted they can barely walk."

Strong hands lifted Mikhail up to carry him in the door. Fresh tears welled in Pareesa's eyes as he cried out in pain. Oh, goddess! Why now, of all times, had he regained consciousness? His enormous wings got caught in the doorway, then one of the warriors stepped on them and accidentally ripped out a bunch of feathers. The indignity! Pareesa could not bear to see him brought this low!

Ipquidad gathered Mikhail up as though he was a sleeping child and staggered over the threshold to lay him gently upon the kitchen table. Homa shooed everyone out of the house and did her best to tuck his wings where they wouldn't trip on them.

"Ninsianna!" Mikhail's hand shook as he reached towards Gita. "Ninsianna,
mo ghrá shíl mé bhraith mé caoin do bháis."

Pareesa understood just enough to comprehend he thought he had felt Ninsianna's death-cry. Oh, gods! Let it not be true! But even if it was true, Pareesa was not about to let him die.

"Go on," Pareesa mouthed the words at Gita. "Get in there."

Immanu shot a murderous look at his niece. Pareesa touched the hilt of her sword and shot the shaman a look of warning. Only she knew, she and Gita, the
real
reason the God of War trusted her. The night Mikhail had lost control of his gift and channeled that other power, only Gita had understood how to deal with the ancient Lord of Chaos. Pareesa shivered. Why hadn't that pitiless black visage stepped in tonight to save him?

Needa's spied Gita wearing her daughter's red cape. She straightened, as beautiful and dignified as her Chosen daughter, and approached Gita the way one might approach a cherished member of the family.

"You frightened us, Ninsianna," Needa's voice warbled as she awkwardly embraced Gita. "Thank the goddess you are safe."