Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (8 page)

“It's a demon!” Jamin
hissed.  “Get behind me, you fool!  I'll protect you.”  He stood frozen between
her and Mikhail, eyeing the spear he'd foolishly left on the banks of the
stream when he'd pursued her into the water, calculating his best chance to
regain the high ground.

"Níor
mhaith liom a dhéanamh má bhí tú mé,"
Mikhail rumbled. 
"Ninsianna,
teacht anseo!
”

She couldn't
understand what he said, but a second bolt of lightning which landed in the
water inches from Jamin’s side, showering the both of them with water, was
abundantly clear.  Mikhail possessed weapons her tribe couldn't begin to
fathom.  He pointed the firestick at Jamin’s chest and gestured for her to come
to the shore.

“Over my dead body!” 
Jamin broadened his stance so he appeared as threatening as a man could
possibly appear whilst standing waist deep in water with no weapon and nowhere
to run.  His grip tightened, twisting her arm as he stood between her and
Mikhail.  The idiot!  He thought he was protecting her. 
He
was the
demon!  And his possessiveness was about to get him killed!

She needed to break
his grip.  Making a fist, she punched him right in the face while he was
distracted staring down Mikhail.  His look of surprise as she yanked free her
arm and pulled away from him was priceless! 

Skittering up the
banks of the stream, she saw how pale Mikhail looked, how tenuous his grip was
on consciousness.  If he passed out, Jamin would kill him.  She pretended to
run into his arms and nestled into his side, snaking both arms around his waist
as though they were lovers.  She didn't know anything about firesticks, but she
was careful to leave that arm free so that he could defend himself.  She wedged
her shoulder under his broken arm to prop him up.

“
Téigh ar!
”
Mikhail growled.
 
“
Faigh an ifreann as anseo!
”

“Leave!!!” she
shouted.  “Before he smites you for your insolence!”

Jamin looked from her
to Mikhail with first dismay, and then hatred as he jumped to the conclusion
she
intended
for him to jump to. 

“You told me that you
loved me, and now you betray me for a demon?”  He bolted out of the opposite
side of the stream and headed in the same direction his compatriots had gone. 

As soon as Jamin was
out of sight, Mikhail collapsed, dragging her down along with him.  She
maneuvered her body to prevent him from landing face down in the dirt, pinning
her beneath his enormous wings.  Wiggling to extricate herself, she picked out
a mouthful of feathers which had become dislodged as she'd cushioned his fall. 
Thanks to her efforts, he'd landed on his side.  She sat down and cradled his head
so that it rested upon her lap. 

How
badly he'd been wounded was attested by his
blood-soaked clothing, which had turned copper upon drying.  Only the totality
of saturation and distance had prevented Jamin from realizing the stranger’s
clothing was soaked with blood.  She touched the base of his throat and was
reassured by the steady throb which greeted her sensitive fingertips.  Although
Mikhail was deathly pale, his pulse beat steady and strong. 

“You're too large for
me to drag back to your sky canoe,” Ninsianna said.  “I'm afraid I would reopen
your wounds if I even tried.  We shall just have to wait until you wake up so
we can do it together."

Until now, he'd been
laying down in the dim confines of his broken sky canoe.  It wasn’t until she'd
tucked herself beneath his arm that she realized how big he really was.  She
was average height.  Even Jamin, who was tall for her people, was only two hand
spans taller than the top of her head.  But Mikhail towered above her by nearly
a cubit
^[2]
. 
Her shoulder barely reached his armpit and her head didn't quite reach his
chin. 

“Your wingspan must be
a good twenty cubits!”  She touched his wings with awe.  “Can you fly?  Like
the eagles?”

The meaning of the
omen She-who-is had sent when she was walking down to the stream became clear. 
What magnificent wings!  Even bigger than the mated pair of golden eagles who
circled above the Hiddekel River.  Mikhail's wings were brownish-black, with
sable-brown stripes the closer you got to his skin.  She ran her fingers
through his feathers, relishing the contrast between the stiff primary feathers
and soft downy under feathers, which had a smattering of grey speckled feathers
on the underside of one wing, but not the other. 

Wings!  The goddess
had sent her a man with wings! 
As if
she would ever want to have
anything to do with Jamin after this?

She ran her fingers
through hair the color of roasted acorns, a sharp contrast to his flesh which
was as pale and pink as the clouds trailing across a morning sky, not the light
brown complexion that graced all but a few of her
own
people.  She
traced the differences as he slept, her fingers memorizing each exquisite
detail of the creature the goddess had placed into her care.   His chiseled
features were not those of the Ubaid, but the flint warriors shaped to adorn
their spears.  Sharp.  Beautiful.  And deadly.  She ran her fingers over his
chest.  His physique was impressive.  
Very
impressive.  Even pale from
blood loss, he was the most powerful creature she had ever seen.

Her very own demi-god!

“Thank you for
rescuing me.”  Ninsianna touched the hairless skin above his lips and wondered
at the absence of the scratchy growth Papa and the other men scraped from their
faces in the summer and allowed to grow long each winter.   “I don't know how
you even
heard
me, much less got up and walked with your injuries.  No
wonder the goddess wanted me to save your life!” 

She closed her eyes
and focused the healing light of She-who-is through her hands to speed his
recovery the way that Mama had taught her to do, thankful when her hands
tingled warmer than even when she'd prayed to heal the Chief's son.  Thankful. 
Oh, goddess, how very thankful she was!  He was the answer to her prayer!

“Can I keep him?”
Ninsianna slipped her fingers through the soft under-feathers of his wings and
lifted her face up towards the sky.    “Please?  I'd
really
like to keep
him.”

~ * ~ * ~ *
~ * ~

But you
said in your heart,

 I'll
ascend to heaven;

I'll raise
my throne above the stars of God,

And I'll
sit on the mount of assembly

In the
recesses of the north.

I'll
ascend above the heights of the clouds;

I'll make
myself like the Most High.

Isaiah
14:13-14

Galactic Standard Date:  152,323.02 AE

Haven-3:  Alliance Hall of Parliament

Prime Minister Lucifer

Lucifer

“The Prime Minister
will now address Parliament.”

Lucifer ascended the
central podium, his white wings draped behind him like the Emperor's cape. 
Balcony after balcony cascaded towards the ceiling of the enormous coliseum, each
delegate representing a homeworld in an empire which spanned half the galaxy. 
They were as varied as the worlds they represented, ranging from mammals,
lizards, insectoids, amphibians and a smattering of other life forms.  Each
species had a homeworld where they'd evolved under the protection of the
Emperor until they'd achieved a level of sentience sufficient to earn
membership in the Galactic Alliance.  Each species had a voice to assert their
rights except for one… 

His...

“Good morning, ladies
and gentlemen,” Lucifer's expression was solemn.  “I'm here to address the
General Assembly about the proposed free trade resolution being debated for an
override.”

The acoustics were
such that the slightest whisper carried across the great hall.  It was not
praise which greeted his ears today, but grumbles of dissent.  Free trade
agreements in this time of diminishing economic returns were even
less
popular with their constituents than taxes.  He had an overwhelming hurdle to
overcome.  He wouldn't be deterred.

Today he spoke not as
the adopted son of the Eternal Emperor, a man who had a voice by virtue of the
fact his father had appointed
him
of all creatures to represent his
interests.  No.  Today Lucifer spoke as an Angelic, a species whose only
purpose for existing was to lay down their lives to protect the naturally
evolved races.  Today he would override the Emperor's veto of the trade
agreement he'd already gotten through both assemblies of Parliament once this
year and ram it down his father's throat.

“For as long as the
Alliance has existed” Lucifer began, “the Emperor has relied upon the stick of
military might to keep the Sata'an Empire in check.  To achieve this end, he
created four species of genetically engineered super-soldiers to protect the naturally
evolved races who make this Alliance their home.  Our military superiority has
kept an uneasy balance in this galaxy between the two competing empires.”

He stepped out from
behind the podium so he could make eye contact with individual delegates staring
down at him from their lofty perches like the ascended beings who forever
dabbled in the affairs of mortals.  Sunlight streamed down from the atrium
above like an omen from She-who-is, creating a golden halo around his
white-blonde hair and snowy white wings, reminding them he was the adopted son
of their emperor and god.

“But now a new threat
has dawned against our Alliance."  His wings drooped.  "Not the
external threat of Shay’tan, but one of our own making.  The armies that defend
us, ladies and gentlemen, are a dying race.” 

A murmur went through
Parliament.  This was no secret, but it was one that no public official had
ever
dared
voice in an open public forum. 

“YOUR race is dying!”
a feisty young Spiderid lord shot back.  “Our race is doing just fine!  Tell
Shay'tan to take his trade deal and shove it up his scaly tail!” 

Parliament twittered. 
Such forthrightness was a political blunder, but the novice delegate voiced a
sentiment many of them secretly shared.

“Yes.”  Lucifer stared
into the Spiderid's compound eyes as he brought both hands to his heart.  “
My
race is dying.  My race, that protected
your
race, until it evolved
enough to join this Alliance … is dying." 

Lucifer drew his hand
into a fist. 

"My race, who
kicked Shay’tan off of
your
planet, when he tried to annex it and you
came running to
us
for help, is dying!  And now, after millennia of
constant warfare has reduced our numbers
so
low that we now have more
pieces of equipment than hybrids in existence to
man
that equipment, my
race, is coming to
your
race, to beg for help so we don't go extinct!”

Lucifer slammed his
fist down upon the podium, his blue eyes flashing in fury.  The young delegate
squirmed in his seat.  Other delegates glared at the young lord, distancing
themselves from the young upstart.  He waited for the murmur to subside before
he resumed his speech.

“It is
good
that the Spiderid species is thriving.”  Lucifer gave the mouthy Spiderid
delegate a smile that didn't reach his eyes, so pale and blue they glittered an
eerie platinum.  “It means the hybrid races didn't sacrifice their lives in
vain.” 

He stared up at the
delegates perched around the great coliseum like vultures, species which had
benefitted from the protection provided by
his
species and their three
sister-races of half-human, half-animal hybrids descended from the same human
root stock.  Angelics, Merfolk, Centauri and Leonids … the backbone of the
Alliance military.