Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (57 page)

“Behnam,” Mikhail
said.  “It's not a race…”

“Can’t let the young
ladies get the better of me,” Behnam flashed his toothless grin.  “A man's got
to have his pride!”

Mikhail suppressed a
grin.  Although he couldn't remember what he'd done back in … wherever … it was
that he'd come from, he was having a good time.  Teaching seemed to come a lot
more naturally to him than milking the goat.  He had the candidates lift the
buckets in an exercise designed to build up the pectoral, back and triceps
muscles.

“My arms are about to
fall off,” Homa complained.

“Do you think this
will make my boobs look bigger,” Gisou asked.  She turned pink with
mortification when she realized everyone had heard her.

“I don't get it,”
Yadidatum complained.  The rubinesque young woman heaved the buckets upwards in
a jerking motion and sloshed water everywhere.

“It might help if you
imagine your arms are wings,” Mikhail demonstrated the proper form.  “Like an
eagle.

“Like
your
wings,”
Pareesa giggled.

“I don't have hands on
my wings,” Mikhail replied with a deadpan expression.  “I have to lift my
buckets of water with my arms the same as everybody else.” 

This response struck
the young women as hilarious for a reason he couldn't grasp.  Raphael used to
think everything was funny like this…

Raphael?  He stopped
and tried to coax the memory out of his scrambled subconscious.

“Mikhail?”  Ninsianna
came up beside him.  “Are you okay?”

His mind was in two
places at once as flashes about going through basic training with his friend
flitted through his mind and were gone.

“Mikhail,” Ninsianna
said.  “They're waiting for you to finish the lesson.”

“Oh, sorry,” he came
back to the present moment.  “I just had … I was thinking … about a friend of
mine.”

“Another memory?”

“Yes … a good one.,”

“Buckets … water …
upper body strength … draw the bow,” Ninsianna prompted, getting his mind back
on track.

“Yes.  From now on,
ladies and gentlemen,” he said.  “Every time you go down to the river to get
water, I want you to do these exercises.  Three sets of ten reps each exercise,
at least twice per day.  Not only will you build upper body strength, but
you'll also get your daily chores done.  I'll see you at the same time
tomorrow.”

Immanu gathered the
bows and gave Mikhail a knowing nod before excusing himself.  They were alone
at last.  Mikhail turned to Ninsianna, nervous about how to proceed now that he
wouldn't be breaking any promises.

“Ninsianna,” he
asked.  “Would you like me to show you how to shoot some more?”

She absent-mindedly
looked down the field at the target.  “Okay.”

“Hold your bow the way
I showed you.”  He stood behind her to help her aim, relishing the close
proximity of his body to hers.  She held the bow just a little too low, aimed
just short of the target.  He ran his fingers along the underside of her
forearm to nudge it up into the correct 90 degree angle.

“Like this?” she
asked.

“Mmm…hmm…” He held his
left hand in place, just barely touching the underside of her wrist to
encourage her to maintain the correct form.  With his right, he reached around
to touch her drawing hand, his hand lingering on hers. 

“Now slowly draw back
the string with your other hand,” he murmured in her ear. 

It was a good thing it
was not
him
taking the shot right now.  His heart raced so fast that he
would have missed!  Ninsianna did things to rattle his concentration that even
the most terrifying battle situation had never failed to accomplish.  All he
could think about right now was the light scent of soap root that lingered in
her hair.  Flaring his wings to block any wind that might throw off her aim, he
helped her pull her drawing arm back that last little bit.

“Like this?” Squinting
down the shaft, she aimed at the bullseye. 

She leaned back so the
length of her body nestled into his.  Heat radiated into his torso, along with
a most pleasant tingling sensation.  He was afraid to breathe.  If he did, the
moment would be broken and he would lose his chance to do what he'd wanted to
do ever since the first time he'd laid eyes upon her.

“Your drawing fingers
should come to your chin,” he said, realizing she was focused on getting the
shot.  “Don't flinch as you release the string.  Just loosen your fingers and
the string will do the rest.”

Ninsianna took the
shot and squealed, jumping with delight as she hit the bullseye.  She threw her
arms around his neck and hugged him, whacking him with the bow.  Mikhail closed
his eyes and took a deep breath, composing what he wished to say. 

“Mikhail,” her golden
eyes flashed with delight.  “That was great.  Thank you.”

The carefully
rehearsed speech he'd been practicing all week flew out of his mind.  Tilting
her chin up with one finger, he bent down and tasted her sensuous lips.  Some
instinct caused him to curl his wings around their bodies so they were both
enveloped in a feathery cocoon.  Tangling her fingers in his hair, Ninsianna
pressed into his body as she explored his mouth with her inquisitive tongue and
moaned his name.

His manhood rose up to
greet her, pressing insistently into her abdomen as she melted into him.  Even
without his memories, he knew no woman had ever instilled such desire.  It
threatened to break his control, Cherubim training or not.  He had no intention
of making love to her until
after
they had completed the steps required
by the customs of her people to mate.  If he didn't draw back now, he wouldn't
be able to.

“Ninsianna,” he said,
his heart racing with desire.  “We have to stop.”

“Mmm hmm….” she
agreed, not stopping at all.

“Ninsianna,” he said. 
“If we don't stop now, I'll not be
able
to stop.”

“Mmmmm….” she melted
further into his body as she slid her hands between his back and his wings. 
She kissed down the side of his neck, an activity which made his manhood become
so hard he thought he might explode.  He fought to prevent himself from taking
her right there in the middle of the field. 

“Ninsianna …  We can
do this later.”  He was trying to steer this encounter the way he'd
intended
for it to go.  Not the way their mutual desire seemed to be herding them like
ravenous beasts.

“Later?”  She moved
her kiss down to the spot on his chest where she'd pulled out the steel rod. 
He felt as though his heart would leap right out of his ribcage into her dainty
hand.  Sliding her hands down his back to his buttocks, she tilted her pelvis
into his as she sought his lips once more.

“After we ask your
parents….” he stammered, barely caging the urge to rip off her shawl and mate
with her on the spot.  She drew back and looked into his eyes.

“Ask my parents???” 
Her voice was pure innocence, as though the siren of three seconds ago had
never existed.

“Ask your parents if
we can marry?”  He held his breath for her answer as he looked into her
beautiful golden eyes.

“Really?” she asked.

“Really.”

“Yes!” Ninsianna
squealed much the way she'd squealed after her near-perfect shot.  She wrapped
her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

There was no way he
would survive another kiss without taking her right then and there, so he did
what came naturally to all winged creatures when they are very, very happy.  He
flared his wings to their full wingspan and carried her up into the air. 
Beating his wings to gain height until he found an updraft, he leveled off in a
lazy glide. 

Ninsianna pressed
along the length of his body, wrapping her legs around one of his in the
position she knew would allow her the stability to kiss him mid-air.

“Tell me that you love
me, Mikhail,” she kissed his neck.

“I love you more than
life itself.”  He drew her closer and gave her a kiss. 

~ * ~ * ~
* ~ * ~

July - 3,390 BC

Earth:  Village of Assur

Jamin

*Thwunk*

Jamin grimaced.  A
less-than-perfect shot.  He'd only hit the
edge
of the charcoal-smear
heart that he'd painted on the target.  Not dead-center.  Dead-center meant
dead.  Less than dead-center meant … he'd seen living proof of what
less-than-dead-center meant when it came to the hearts of demons.  He'd seen
the scar on the winged demons chest the day he'd stripped his shirt and run the
gauntlet on what should have been
his
wedding day. 

He grabbed a spear
from the dwindling pile and hurled it with every ounce of hatred he felt
towards the heart-shaped target.  The others had gone home for the night.  Even
Siamek.  None of them understood the threat the winged demon represented to
their village.

He realized he was
being watched…

“Gita,” he said, not
even glancing over to meet her bottomless black eyes.  “You shouldn't lurk in
the shadows.  You might get hurt.”

“How did you know I
was here?”

“I don't know,” Jamin
said.  “I just knew.”

“You're the only
person who ever sees me besides Shahla.”

Her voice had the same
sadness
he
felt.  The accursed emotion he was trying to drown out by
focusing on his anger.  He grabbed the next spear and hurled it with all of his
might.  He could
feel
her eyes follow the shaft as it lodged in the
heart-area, dead center.  A perfect shot.  Sticking out of the top of the
target were feathers.  Feathers he'd stuck in after the others had gone to
represent wings.  He turned to her, giving her the wolfish grin a predator
might give as it removed its fangs from its prey's torn jugular.

“He doesn't deserve
your hatred.”  Gita's voice was the whisper of the hot summer wind.  “It's not
his
fault the goddess sent him to protect us.”

“What do you know of
the goddess?!” Jamin shouted.  “Fairy tales!  Fairy tales made up to justify
bad behavior!”

He grabbed another
spear and hurled it with all of his might, hatred fueling its flight into the
heart of his enemy.  The spear pierced the bale of emmet-stalks bound together
to represent their enemies and came out the other side.  Aha!  The winged demon
wasn't the
only
one who could pierce the heart of his enemy!

He turned, his victory
cry dying on his lips as a sorrow only
he
could fathom clouded her
jet-black eyes.  He'd taken Gita under his wing because only
she
understood
what it was like to watch your mother die.

“She is not worthy of
your love.”  Gita's black eyes swirled with a sorrow so profound even
he
couldn't
grasp its depths.  “You've got to let it go or it will destroy you.”

“He
took
her
from me!”  Jamin grabbed another spear from the pile, his fists clenched around
the shaft so tight it felt as though his knuckles might break.

“She's not worthy of -
his-
love, either.”  Gita's black eyes looked straight through him as though he
wasn't even there.  “Just you wait and see…”

A shudder went down
Jamin’s spine.  Prophecy.  It was said her mother's people had possessed the
gift of prophecy. 
His
mother's people, if the whispers he'd overheard
the night Merariy had reappeared in their village were true.  His father had
been in a fog of grief, having just lost his mother and baby sister in
childbirth.  It had been Immanu who had made the decision to welcome his
estranged brother … and his traumatized five-year-old daughter … back into the
tribe.

He looked away, unable
to meet her gaze as she took the measure of his soul and found him wanting.  He
looked back and was not surprised to find she'd disappeared into the
lengthening shadows.  Picking up another spear, Jamin hurled it with all of his
might at the feathery target…