Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (73 page)

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Galactic Standard Date:  152,323.12 AE

Haven-1

Former Supreme Commander-General Jophiel

Jophiel

Jophiel pretended not to hear the rioting people as she rolled up her pale blue suit, the one which matched her eyes, and tucked it neatly into a box. She felt strangely sad to say goodbye to the article of civilian clothing which had no use within the Alliance military. She owned few such pieces, for what use were they when one gave their life in service to the Emperor? She knew she must leave the suit behind, but it was the suit she'd worn when she'd declared her love for Raphael. If she left it here, would she ever see it again?

Oh! Silly attachment! She shoved the suit down deeper into the box.

The cheerful warble of the songbird perched at the edge of her windowsill shook Jophiel out of her melancholy. In her mind she knew it was merely a song thrush, a nondescript little bird which dwelled in the canopy of the Eternal Tree, but whenever she heard it sing, it filled her heart with a joy she could not put into words. Lucifer had called this creature Happy Bird. Where was he now? The man who had fractured an empire? Had he found his way safely into the dreamtime? Or had he, as Hashem swore, landed in some kind of special hell because he'd repaid his adoptive father's kindness by trying to steal his empire?

The little brown bird stared at her with bright, eager golden eyes.

"Hello, little friend," Jophiel said. "Have you come to wish me godspeed?"

The bird tilted its head this way and that, as if he understood her and found was she was doing fascinating. His tiny yellow beak parted and he chirped out a
'tweet-tweet-tweet,'
not the warbling call he gave when he flit through the canopy of the Eternal Tree.

Just for a moment, the wind shifted, and Jophiel could no longer hear the shouts of voices carried over the roof. Happy Bird puffed out its throat and serenaded her with its joyous song. Tears rose to her eyes, though whether they were of sadness or joy she did not know.

"I shall miss you, too, little friend," Jophiel said to the songbird.

She finished tucking her belongings into the boxes and then, on a whim, pulled the blue suit out of the storage box and rammed it into her duffle bag. It was a foolish impulse, but there was no use denying she'd grown sentimental. The small, brown bird gave her one last tweet, and then flew off about his day, singing joyously as he flitted through the branches of the Eternal Tree which reached towards the heavens, impossibly tall and broad. As it swayed in the wind, it reminded her of a mother waving to her daughter goodbye. She shut the window, made sure her boxes were neatly labeled for storage, and then turned off the lights, swinging her duffle bag over her shoulder with the same verve as when she'd left the Youth Training Academy to go to Basic Training.

This part of her life was now at an end...

She shut the door behind her and wound her way through the palace to the atrium just inside the Great Gate where Dephar stood waiting beside her needle. The rioting of the crowds was unmistakable, even through the massive doors. For weeks now they had chanted for her blood, demanding the Emperor turn her over for a court martial.

"How bad is it?" she asked

"We've put down three riots already this morning," the guard said. "Forty-five minutes ago, a group got past them and almost knocked through the Pearl Gate." He pointed at the smaller Pearl Gate, which now had barricades stacked in front of it. Some of the mother-of-pearl inlays for which the entrance had been named lay shattered upon the floor.

Jophiel's mouth tightened into a grim line. Even through the door, she could smell the scent of the tear gas her men had used to force the protestors to back off. Her continued presence here put the Emperor at risk. She turned to face the tall, slender Muqqibat dragon who, like her, was one of the Emperor's most trusted confidantes.

"You will explain to him why I have left?"

Dephar's snout twisted up into a wistful expression.

"He will be hurt, but I will impress upon him you have done so because you have his best interests at heart."

"He is stubborn," Jophiel said. "When I asked him, he specifically forbade me to leave."

"Hashem's stubbornness will be his undoing," Dephar said. "Especially when his temper is aroused. But in your case, once he understands you have not abandoned him, I hope he will realize you have done the right thing?"

There was a loud clattering as something hit the Great Gate, a minor missile, no doubt something mundane such as a shoe. The shouting grew louder. If she did not leave now, soon she would not have the choice.

"Tell him I still serve him with every ounce of my being," Jophiel said. "But he bred our species to be his defenders, not the other way around. I belong out there, rallying his supporters to come to his defense, not in here, cowering like a frightened little girl."

"Signal me as soon as you get to your ship," Dephar said.

Jophiel did not enlighten the man that she had one stop to make before she risked it all in an attempt to fuel a counter-rebellion.

"One way or another," Jophiel said, "you will find out whether or not I have been successful."

She patted her living needle ship until it rolled over and opened up its marsupium. Dephar helped her step into the creature's pouch as she settled her wings so she would fit inside. She adjusted her oxygen mask, trying not to grumble as Dephar jammed her duffle bag between her knees. This was going to be a
miserably
claustrophobic ride!

She tried not to fight it as the creature shut its pouch around her and gripped her tightly like an infant passing through the birth canal. The needle-handler had given the creature one set of coordinates, but she communicated a different set of coordinates altogether. Her stomach lurched as the creature leaped through the dimension that otherwise only the gods could use and popped out on the other side.

The needle opened its marsupium.

Jophiel popped up out from under her pile of clothing. '
Ohthankthegods that is over!!!'
  How had Raphael
done
this every week to see her and Uriel?

A hand reached down to help her out, his expression bemused as he unpacked her from amongst her belongings like just another piece of luggage. She stared up into the visage of Major-General Kabshiel, father of her eldest child.

"Major-General," Jophiel said.

"Supreme Commander-General," Kabshiel replied.

Jophiel gave him a sad little smile.

"We both know that is no longer true," Jophiel said.

"We are on
my
protectorate," Kabshiel said. "Here, I call you what I want to call you. And what I call you is breathtaking."

Jophiel blushed. Kabshiel had always hinted he'd wanted more than the two-day mating appointment which had resulted in the birth of her eldest son. She'd still been a cadet then, still smarting from Lucifer's rejection and wary of any man who might try to touch her heart. Now that Lucifer was dead, she saw her former lover in a new light.

"What do you have for me?" Jophiel said. She stuck to what she knew, which was to act
professional
.

She noted the glint of disappointment in Kabshiel's eye. Born of the same generation as Abaddon, Kabshiel was close to retirement age. It was common for two Angelics who'd once produced offspring together to look each other up once they were free to form the union they'd been forbidden to make so long as both were obligated to serve within the military. As the years had passed, she'd come to realize Kabshiel nursed a torch for her. She suspected that was why he helped her now.

"His name is Hasdiel," Kabshiel's lip twitched with regret. "His sister Pravuil was one of Lucifer's interns."

Jophiel snorted with disgust. "We both know how
that
ended."

Kabshiel was one of the few people in the galaxy who knew he had been her
second
mating appointment, not her first as most people believed. But nobody but Lucifer knew about the one man whose seed not even
she
had been able to set.

Her hand moved to touch her womb, the one Raphael had not been able to fill … or maybe he had? Her death-blood had not come, and yet the pregnancy test still registered inconclusive.

Kabshiel handed her the slender service record of a cadet. Inside was a picture of what had to be the
plainest
looking Angelic she had ever seen. In a species prone to beauty, an Angelic who was ugly was truly an anomaly.

"This is a picture of her," Kabshiel said. "According to her brother, our illustrious Prime Minister was just her friend."

A friend? Did Lucifer have any such creatures?

"So what's this have to do with our missing Prime Minister?

"Why don't you just ask the man yourself?" Kabshiel said.

"I thought he was in prison?" Jophiel said.

"He is," Kabshiel said. The Major-General gave her a wolfish grin. He hadn't moved up the ranks by sitting on his hands. "I was able to pull some strings and get him transferred to prison
here."

Jophiel shoved her disheveled belongings back into the needle and patted the creature on the nose. It closed its marsupium to protect her bag. She then followed her former lover through a labyrinth of hallways, down into the bowels of a maximum security prison. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps Kabshiel had turned her in, but no, he had always possessed a soft spot for her and she had given him his only offspring.

They stepped into an elevator and waited as the device descended deep into the prison. As it did, Kabshiel stepped close enough that the tip of his wings brushed lightly against the edge of hers. She
had
to tell him. It was unfair to lead him on, especially as she suspected he still nursed hope she might be interested in bearing him a second child.

"Kabshiel," Jophiel put her hand upon his arm. "You
do
know I have given myself to another?"

Kabshiel's grey-speckled wings drooped. His expression was wistful.

"I had heard the young Brigadier-General meant more to you than just a casual mating appointment," Kabshiel said. "I had hoped it was nothing but a rumor."

"We are mated," Jophiel said softly. "We said to each other the Seraphim wedding vow."

Kabshiel's face wrinkled with a blend of regret and, surprisingly, a little bit of cheer.

"An old man can hope? Can't he?" Kabshiel said. "Congratulations. I guess you must think of me an old fool?"

"No," Jophiel said. She leaned forward and pecked her former lover on the cheek, an intimacy she never would have
dreamed
of until she'd become mated to Raphael, but now, the gesture seemed somehow natural. "We shall always have our son … and
three
grandchildren! Think of that? Between us, we have produced a child who is not burdened by the defect which has driven our species to the brink of extinction."

"Thank you for telling me the truth," Kabshiel said.

They leaned together, his large speckled wings wrapped protectively around her smaller, white ones, until they reached the correct floor. The opening elevator doors forced them to stand apart. They passed through several checkpoints until at last they came to an interrogation room. Kabshiel gestured for her to go inside.

"I'll be right here if you need me," he said. "But from all reports, young Hasdiel is a model prisoner."

She knew Kabshiel would watch from the two-way mirror. She sat down at the table and waited, doing her best to not scrunch up her nose at the stench of musk and urine or squint under the too-bright lights which illuminated an otherwise dank and featureless room. The opposite door opened and in trailed two burly guards, leading between them an Angelic bound up in chains. Like most Angelics, Hasdiel was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, with the typical white wings of a species that had adapted to live on ships in space. The guards bolted the man's foot chain to a ring underneath the desk, and then his handcuffs to a similar ring on the table.