Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (81 page)

“Someday Jamin will be
Chief,” Shahla proudly stuck up her chin.  “He says when he is, he will marry
m
e.”

“Why doesn’t he marry
you
now
?” Gita yanked the brush through Shahla's hair.  “If he really
loved you, he would have married you as soon as he started sleeping with you
again.”

“His father is against
it,” Shahla said. 

“Jamin is using you.” 
Gita's black eyes flashed with anger.  “Chief Kiyan just wants his son to be
happy.  If Jamin said he wanted to marry you, I'm certain he would allow it.”

“I don't understand
why everything has to be so difficult,” Shahla sighed.  She put her head back
down in her best friend's lap, closing her eyes as Gita brushed her hair.

Gita began to sing
once more, only this time she sang one of the ‘marching songs’ the men sang as
they carried buckets from the Hiddekel River, arms outstretched to strengthen
their muscles, marching in perfect formation to water the fields.  Exercises
taught to them by Mikhail.

“
Somebody
has
been lurking in the shadows again.”  A smile lightened Shahla's dark mood as
she pictured how ridiculous the villagers looked doing the awkward exercises
which Jamin mocked.  “And you accuse
me
of mooning over a hopeless
cause?”

Gita pulled the comb
through Shahla’s hair.  She paused, her eyes focused far away.  Shahla could
almost
feel
the air around them change as her best friend made a
life-altering decision.

“I am tired of always
being a victim,” Gita said, her voice almost a whisper.  “I'm going to start
taking those self-defense classes Mikhail teaches.  A lot of the girls are
doing it.  I'd like
you
to take them with me.”

Gita clutched her hand
as though she wished to will Shahla to go with her so she didn't have to do it
alone. 
Alone.
  Never in her life had Shahla seen anyone as abandoned
and alone as the black-eyed girl nobody in the village but
her
had ever
bothered to see. 

“A chief’s wife must
be supportive of her husband,” Shahla said with a haughty toss of her hair. 

From the disappointed
twitch of Gita's lip, she understood her only real friend had made up her mind
and go without her. 

Shahla lowered her
voice to a whisper.  “Besides, if Jamin thought –
I'd-
betray him, too? 
He would kill me.”

~ * ~ * ~
* ~ * ~

Galactic Standard Date:  152,323.08 AE

Earth:  Sata’an Forward Operating Base

Lieutenant Kasib

Lt.
Kasib

Lieutenant Kasib
tucked his tail up alongside his right side in a crisp salute and knocked on
the crude door they'd jury-rigged for privacy in the stone house they'd
commandeered as part of their  Forward Operating Base on Earth.

"Come in,"
General Hudhafah called.

Kasib's long forked
tongue tasted the air the moment he stepped into his commanding officer's
office, searching for pheromones which would indicate the nuances of the
general's mood.

“Our intermediaries
came up short, Sir,” Lieutenant Kasib said.  “We only have 283 women in this
shipment.  Not 300 as ordered.”

“Ba'al Zebub will be
displeased,” General Hudhafah's dorsal ridge rose in irritation.  “What excuse
did they give?”

“Your orders were to
only obtain a few women from each tribe to obtain the greatest genetic
diversity, Sir,” Kasib said.  “One of the tribes has organized and is fighting
back.”

“Find out who their
leader is and kill him,” General Hudhafah ordered, taking a sip of the
fermented Earth nectar he'd begun to develop a taste for.  “Without a head, the
serpent will die.”

“Would you like me to
assign a battalion to quash the rebellion?”

“No.  We're spread too
thin,” General Hudhafah's tail thumped against the floor, deep in thought. 
“We're almost out of supplies.  Until the armada gets here with reinforcements,
it's better to act through intermediaries.”

“What would you like
me to do, Sir?” Kasib asked.

“Offer a bounty,”
General Hudhafah bared his fangs in a grin Kasib knew from experience was a
predator about to corral a prey animal.  “For the ringleaders.  Dead or alive. 
The idiots practically grovel at the sparkles we put in our paint.  Offer the
morons a whole bag of the stuff.  That will motivate them.”

“Yes, Sir,” Kasib
saluted his commanding officer.  “Right away.”

~ * ~ * ~
* ~ * ~

Mid-August – 3,390 BC

Earth:  Village of Assur

Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili

Mikhail

The temperature
changed perceptibly the closer they got to the river.  They'd enjoyed solitude
away from the hubbub of the village, but the stream which had babbled so
delightfully alongside his ship in the spring had dried down to little more
than a trickle.  He'd ended up carrying her to the river each day, far from any
village, to wallow in the currents and escape the summer heat.  Although a
strain upon a wing which still ached, the thrill of carrying his beloved
airborne inspired him to soar higher, longer, and more gracefully than he ever
would have thought possible.  It was funny, how love inspired you to do things
you never would have done otherwise?

Dogs barked and
children ran through the streets, calling their names as he circled the
village.  Ninsianna waved and greeted each child by name, nearly pulling him
off balance.  Banking his wings to glide in for a landing, he touched down a
few feet from the front door.  Before she could wriggle out of his grasp, he
carried her across the threshold, grinning at her giggles as he paused to
figure out how to fit both her and the width of his wings.  The temperature
dropped several degrees the moment they got out of the sun, but it was still
almost as miserably hot in
here
as it was outside.

“Home sweet home…”
Ninsianna said without enthusiasm. 

“For now…” Mikhail put
her down.  “At least until I can build our own house.” 

The house he pictured
was nothing like the houses of this village.  The ceilings would be high enough
for him to stretch his wings, with lots of windows to catch the breeze.  The
kitchen would be large enough to fill with family and friends, and there would
be a real bathroom with running water.  But to build it, he needed time.  And
to get time, he needed to hurry up and finish training the people of this
village to take care of
themselves
!

“I see our parents
moved your things out of the main living area,” Ninsianna said.  “I presume
they moved them into my room.”

“Where we'll be
sleeping really, r-e-a-l-l-y close together!”  He pulled her close and nuzzled
down her neck until she shrieked with laughter.  Ninsianna’s room was small and
her bed even smaller.  He wouldn't have room to flare his wings without
knocking them into the wall.

The sound of voices
alerted them they were no longer alone.  Ninsianna’s parents had headed back
from the fields the moment  they'd seen them glide in for a landing, their arms
filled with the bounty they'd planted as a family only months before.  For some
reason, it felt
right.

“Welcome home!”  Needa
hugged them both and kissed both cheeks.  “I trust you two had a … fruitful …
honeymoon?”

“Mom!” Ninsianna
blushed at the implied meaning.  It was too soon to tell if their time together
would prove to be fruitful or not.

“Trying my hardest,
ma’am,” Mikhail grinned as he pulled Ninsianna against him for a hug.  It was
the understatement of the year!  For someone who had kept his libido so tightly
leashed, he was discovering he
enjoyed
making love to his lovely wife. 
Preferably as much as possible!

“Mikhail!” Ninsianna
exclaimed.  “You're worse than
she
is!”

“Supper will be ready
in an hour,” Needa said.  “Mikhail … could you please go milk the goat?”

Mikhail groaned.  He,
Angelic Special Forces Colonel, fiercest warrior this village had ever seen,
supposedly a sword of the very gods who ruled this galaxy, consistently lost
his daily battle with their recalcitrant dairy goat, ‘Little Nemesis.’  No
matter what he tried … food bribes, coercion, force, even terror, the goat
would just not cooperate.  He usually ended up spilling as much milk as he was
able to extract.

“A wise man must learn
to
coax
a reluctant female.”  Immanu gave him a knowing look.  “It's
your only weakness…”

“The goat?” he asked.

“No … the gift of
persuasion…” Immanu  donned his most enigmatic shaman look.  “A wise leader
must know not only how to defeat his enemies in combat, but also how to
persuade them to come around to his way of thinking so combat is not necessary
in the first place.  You must overcome that weakness.”

Mikhail digested that
piece of information, puzzling over Immanu’s cryptic words, before shooting him
a grin.  “It sounds like an excuse to get
me
to milk the goat instead of
you.”

“That too…” Immanu
chuckled.

An hour later, with
cloven hoof prints all over his pants, they sat down for supper and caught up
on what had been happening during the two weeks they'd been away.

“Alalah and Pareesa
gave basic archery lessons to Jamin’s elite group while you were gone,” Immanu
said, “while Behnam and Orkedeh have been teaching your new combat candidates. 
Chief Kiyan himself took over teaching them to march in formation carrying
water to the fields.  They're looking pretty good.”

“Has Jamin taken
lessons yet,” Ninsianna asked.  “He can't keep refusing to acknowledge things
need to change.  He's the best warrior we have … after Mikhail." 

She caught Mikhail's
scowl and shot out her hand to cover his.  "Honey … we need him.”

“Jamin won't be
shooting a bow, or anything else anytime soon,” Immanu scowled.  “He tried to
bully Pareesa.  Your little
çok
puan ile mızrak
^[8]
didn't take too kindly to that.”

Ever since Pareesa had
escaped capture, she'd devoted all of her time to learning everything she could
about the art of warfare.  Amongst the trainees, she'd earned the nickname '
çok puan ile mızrak,'
[
weapon
of mass destruction].  She tried to mimic Mikhail's cool reserve and had even
taught herself to shoot two arrows simultaneously.  Someday soon his youngest
student would surpass his archery abilities … and then some!  The woman-child
was even learning to speak Cherubim!

“Did you take the
issue up with the Chief?” Mikhail asked.

“The Chief sided with
Pareesa,” Immanu said.  “Jamin shouldn't be undermining his authority or the
safety of this village by discouraging able-bodied warriors from training.”