Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga)

by Anna Erishkigal

  The hand that held his in a death-grip squeezed tighter, her voice barely audible above the chanting.

  "You promise we go outside, Husband," Sarvenaz said, her voice trembling with fear. "We go … together?"

  Beneath his wing she pressed against him, urging him forward even though she quaked in terror. He looked down so his men would not see the mixture of a sob and a smile that danced across his stern features, his chest so full of pride right now he thought it might explode.

  "Step aside!" his men shouted, weapons drawn as though he were storming Shay'tan's palace and not walking in to testify before their own Alliance Parliament. They clustered around him, Angelics, Mantoids, and a few other species, all picked because he trusted their promise to not let the Emperor take her from him.

  "Thank you for answering the subpoena, Sir," a well-dressed Electrophori said, the Speaker's legislative aide. She eyed his curled grey wing with curiosity, but had the social grace to understand that asking him to bare his wife before Sarvenaz was ready might earn her a slice of his infamous sword.

  "Tell the Speaker we are ready to testify," Abaddon said.

  The hand that gripped his squeezed tighter, signaling her assent. His lip twitched with regret. In a way, he had cherished the time she was only his. It was time to share her, this wonderful woman he had fallen in love with, and hope that once she got to see the larger Alliance, she would not regret having married an old goat such as himself.

  In the rotunda he could hear Lucifer's voice, amplified by naturally good acoustics and a discreetly placed sound system, to broadcast his cross-examination of the woman the Emperor had elevated to lord over all of them. Lucifer's voice sounded furious as he ground Supreme Commander-General Jophiel into dust in front of a galaxy-wide audience.

  "What was the Emperor's response when Ba'al Zebub offered his hypothetical trade deal," Lucifer shouted, "and I asked him whether or not he would accept it?"

  Jophiel's voice was little more than a whisper.

  "He said that he would rather let our species rot in Hades before he would give one inch to the old dragon."

  Abaddon's step faltered. Sarvenaz shored him up as he gasped at the truth which had been uttered by none other than the Supreme Commander-General's lips. He could hear the sob in Jophiel's voice, that it was a truth she did not wish to utter, to betray the Emperor by broadcasting his hubris for the entire galaxy to hear. Lucifer had been right. The little shit had been right all along.

  "Husband?" Sarvenaz asked.

  The roar of not only Parliament, but the mob they had flown over to land here, grew deafening as the people shouted Lucifer's name. "Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer."

  "I now call Angelic Air Force General Abaddon, also known as the Destroyer," Lucifer shouted, his voice that of a victor claiming his spoils.

  Abaddon squeezed Sarvenaz's hand and stepped forward, his men circled around him as they made their way as a group to the podium. Only the fact he was taller than an average Angelic allowed him to see the sorry visage that stood upon the stage, charred feathers, limbs bare of his feathery plumage like a tree in winter, arms raised in a V as he reached up towards his people and basked in the People's adoration like a tree reaching towards the sky.

  "Shit, Sir," Lieutenant Sikurull muttered. "What the hell did the Emperor do to him?"

  Abaddon clutched Sarvenaz closer. Lucifer had always deluded himself that Hashem was a good man, and most of the time he was, but Abaddon had been around long enough to witness Hashem lose his temper. In a way it was almost reassuring, that the battle-hardened old god still dwelt in there someplace, the one he had chosen over Shemijaza's experiment in a Third Empire, but in another way it was disturbing, that Hashem would do that to the man he had raised from birth to be his own son.

  "If Hashem wanted Lucifer dead, he'd be dead right now," Abaddon growled as they passed the Cherubim who ringed the stage, wondering why they allowed this spectacle. "Anyone who believes in the image of a doddering, kindly father is an idiot."

  Several members of the press rushed forward with their microphones. Just as quickly they stepped back when he caressed the hilt of his sword. Nobody dared stick a microphone in the face of the Destroyer. Not even the paparazzi! Abaddon led his wife up the steps and turned to the chanting masses.

  "It is time, Mo ghrá," Abaddon's face grew tender as he whispered courage into her ear. "It is time for me to tell the world I have a wife."

  "I will have order in this general court," the Speaker of the Commons shouted into his microphone. "The next witness is on the stand."

  Lucifer stepped up to them, his gait unsteady after three days in captivity. Abaddon noted the odd angle of one of his scorched wings. Dislocated. Bruised. Cuts all over his face and torn clothing. What else had the Emperor done to him?

  “General Abaddon,” Lucifer's teeth clenched in pain. "Thank you for coming."

  Grey eyes met Lucifer's eerie silver ones. The Emperor had tried to break Lucifer and, like a sword thrust into a forge and then pounded, had instead made Lucifer stronger. He saw the echo of another man, an older one, a man long dead and in the grave. Shemijaza had not bowed down to Hashem's temper, nor would Lucifer now that he had finally come to grips with what Abaddon had told him all along. Hashem had never viewed Lucifer as anything more than a tool to get back at his biological father.

  "Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you gods?" the Speaker of the house asked him.

  "I do," Abaddon said.

  "And what about your wife?" the Speaker asked.

  Parliament exploded with questions.

  "His wife?"

  "Is that what he's got hidden in his wing?"

  "I didn't know the Destroyer was married?"

  "Who the heck would marry him? He's so old!"

  Light bulbs flashed. Cameras zoomed in as he unfurled his wing just enough to reveal he had somebody standing at his side. The Speaker of the Commons repeated the question.

  "I swear," Sarvenaz said.

  Abaddon squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. A giddy thrill shot through his body. He felt like a cadet sneaking out of the barracks on an unauthorized shore leave.

  Lucifer swayed as though he might pass out. The Speaker stepped forward and grabbed his elbow until Lucifer caught his balance, his unsteadiness not missed by the people who leaned off of the balconies like hawks, watching for the next tasty mouse Lucifer would flush out of the underbrush for the People to feed upon. Jophiel moved to stand next to Master Yoritomo. His eyes met hers and he knew. She'd had no idea the Emperor would order Lucifer be tortured. Abaddon's nostrils flared in a grim snort. Hashem had just popped the ice princess' idealistic cherry about the nature of brutality.

  "General Abaddon," Lucifer said. "Could you please tell the general assembly when you first met your wife?”

  “July first,” Abaddon said. “I remember it as though it were yesterday.”

  “Who introduced you to her?”

  “You did,” Abaddon said.

  “Have you ever, at any time, paid any monies or any other compensation to anyone for the introduction to your wife?

  “No,” Abaddon said.

  “What was the favor I asked of you when you decided to take Sarvenaz to be your wife?” Lucifer asked.

  “You asked that, if the Emperor refused to open the human homeworld to emigration and trade, that when the time came, I would support you in obtaining a lawful override vote from Parliament," Abaddon said. "It is my understanding that negotiations between the Sata’an Empire and the Eternal Emperor have failed. I am here to repay the favor.”

  “Do you have any regrets about your wife?” Lucifer asked.

  “Only that I didn’t meet her 600 years ago when I still had the stamina to keep up with her!” Abaddon cracked a rare joke. “I’m not exactly a youngling.”

  Laughter rang through the halls of Parliament. Although there were many M
embers of Parliament older than Abaddon, it was rare for hybrids to reach his age. The Emperor’s mandatory 500 years of military service guaranteed few hybrids lived long enough to retire, especially since when they reached 450 he shipped them out to the most deadly assignments so they were more likely to be killed off than to burden the taxpayers by collecting a pension.

  “How long have you served the Alliance, General Abaddon?”

  “I joined the Eternal Emperor’s youth training academy when I was eight years old,” Abaddon said. “I am now 632 years old. For 624 of those years, I have served the Eternal Emperor and the Alliance.”

  “How many children do you have?” Lucifer asked.

  “Soon I will have a daughter,” Abaddon's chest puffed out with pride. “She is due in early April.”

  Parliament exploded with chatter. Several aggressive members of the press rushed at the podium with cameras and microphones. Sarvenaz cringed deeper into his wings.

  "Step back," he growled.

  One of the younger, less sensible paparazzi did not listen. Abaddon grabbed the hilt of his sword, the feeling of the steel an old friend in his hand, and unsheathed it.

  “Step away from my wife!”

  His biceps bulged as he took a step towards the reporters. The more sensible ones yanked back the bold one and admonished him for his stupidity. Not only did his name inspire fear amongst their enemies, but also within the Alliance, for Abaddon had been sent to quell uprisings on Alliance colonies as well, including ones which had tried to defect to follow Lucifer's biological father.

  “General Abaddon,” Lucifer said. “Why did you wait so long to father a child?”

  He was acutely aware of Sarvenaz melted into his side, her cheek pressed against his left quadricep as she peeked from beneath his wings like a little chick, listening to what he had to say.

  “I’m old enough to remember when the Emperor’s breeding program first went into effect,” Abaddon said. “I was young and virile. It seemed like an Angelic male’s dream come true."

  Abaddon loosened his left wing, just enough so Sarvenaz could be seen without being thoroughly exposed.

  "All of a sudden, the inconvenient social mores," Abaddon said, "and the burden of taking time out of your career to raise a child, were eliminated. You don’t even have to get to know the female to indulge in the pleasure of a mating. Just sire a child and turn the offspring over to the Emperor for the hard work of rearing them. It seemed like an ideal policy at the time.”

  “So why didn’t you have any of your own?” Lucifer asked.

  “I tried,” Abaddon said. “I was young and handsome back then, and also moving rapidly up in rank. Female Angelics threw themselves at my feet, and I took the Emperor’s mandate to be fruitful and multiply seriously. Very seriously." He looked at the row of male faces, which tended to dominate some of the lesser species, and added, "often several times per day with different partners, seriously.”

  Parliament laughed. Many delegates were even older than Abaddon and remembered their heady days when they had sowed wild oats before settling down. A small finger jabbed into his belly. Sarvenaz. Jealous? He squeezed her shoulder to reassure her.

  “So what happened?” Lucifer asked.

  “It quickly became apparent why the Emperor had instituted the program,” Abaddon said. “Despite my vigorous embrace of the recommended activities, no offspring resulted."

  Abaddon looked up at the stained glass image of She-who-is wrought into the skylight far above. How many times had he cursed the goddess who had made him infertile?

  "I was one of the reasons the Emperor instituted the program," Abaddon said. "Our numbers were failing to replenish themselves. Over the next 600 years, I watched our numbers dwindle from millions to under thirty thousand non-Mer hybrids combined.”

  “Did you test infertile?” Lucifer asked.

  “No,” Abaddon said. “For some reason, although all tests showed I should be able to reproduce, nothing worked. And I was not alone.”

  “How many years did you try to father a child?” Lucifer asked.

  “Right up until I met Sarvenaz,” Abaddon said, “although, at my age, the opportunities get further and fewer between.”

  That earned another knowing chuckle from older … and some not-so-old, members of Parliament. Not all of them were male, either, although at least a blacklisted female could find somebody willing to take a chance and lay down with her during a heat cycle, it costing the male nothing more than an hour of his time, while few females would risk a precious once-every-two-year heat cycle on a male who had failed to sire offspring after the first few tries.

  “How long did it take before you succeeded with a human female?” Lucifer asked.

  “We conceived a child together on our first try.” Abaddon looked down at the woman melted into his side, now partially visible to the curious onlookers, and tightened his arm around her. “For over 600 years I tried, and then I found the right woman and we got married. We got married first because she was willing to take a risk on an old general like me, whether or not I was able to give her a child." He choked up. "And then … I didn't expect … she … but now … it worked. My wife is giving me a child. She is … “

  He looked up at the golden sunlight pouring through the skylight and took a breath, unable to put the emotion into words. The room became so hushed that you could hear a pinfeather drop, even the paparazzi and camera crews silent at the sight of Abaddon the Destroyer, the most feared general in the Alliance, tear up and tenderly pull the cloaked female into his side, burying his face into the hood she wore covering her head.

  “It is confirmation from She-who-is that this is the right course of action…” he finally choked out just loudly enough for Parliament to hear his words.

  “General Abaddon,” Lucifer said gently, “why do you keep your wife covered up like that?”

  “It is the custom of her people to cover their head,” Abaddon said. “But she understands this general court needs to see her to confirm she is who I say she is. You must promise not to rush at her. She is from a small village on a sheltered planet. Seeing non-humans is still a new experience for her.”

  He straightened up and added more ominously, the usual tone they were accustomed to hearing from him, “and anyone who doesn’t pay her the proper respect will answer to me!”

  “Mr. Speaker,” Lucifer asked. “If you wouldn’t mind, since the Emperor claims my actions victimized this woman, would you please do the honors of examining Mrs. Abaddon for the purposes of the general court?”

  “It would be an honor, Mr. Prime Minister,” the Speaker of the Commons stepped down off the raised central podium.

  “General?” the Speaker asked. “If it’s all right with your wife?”

  Abaddon whispered reassurances in her ear and gave her a hug. Then he finished unfurling his wing and stepped back, leaving her standing there, exposed, for the entire galaxy to see. A gasp went through Parliament as they caught their first-ever sight of an elusive, legendary human.

  “She appears as the Emperor does!”

  “She looks like a wingless Angelic!”

  “She really is pregnant!”

  Sarvenaz met his eyes, and then touched the hood which covered her head. Her lip trembling, she lowered it to show her beautiful, olive complexion and the dark hair she wore coiffed in an updo, rivulets of dark curls framing her face like an image of the goddess herself.

  “She's beautiful!”

  “She has black hair. Nobody has had black hair since the Seraphim were exterminated.”

  Sarvenaz trembled, aware that everybody in the room scrutinized her, but thankfully unable to comprehend that every television viewer in the Alliance also watched her right now. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, closer to the center of the stage, so the people could reassure themselves that, yes, she really did exist, and Lucifer wasn't making things up to get out of trouble for whatever he had really done to piss off the Emperor.
<
br />   “It is such a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” the Speaker of the Commons held out his hand to take hers.

  The Speaker was a Muqqi'bat dragon, a short-legged, wingless species with a dragon-like head and the body of a serpent. Sarvenaz looked towards Abaddon with fear. He had shown her pictures so she would know what to expect here today, but an image on a video monitor was far less intimidating than shaking hands with the tall, slender creature which towered over her now.

  "It's okay," Abaddon gestured forward. "He won't hurt you."

  Sarvenaz gave the Speaker her hand. He drew her knuckles up to his snout and kissed it, like a gentleman would from one of the Mantoid soap operas. Sarvenaz blushed.

  “Mrs. Abaddon,” the Speaker asked, “how did you come to be in our territory?”

  "She doesn't speak our language," Lucifer interrupted the Speaker of the Commons.

  "Oh yes she does!" Abaddon shot Lucifer a victorious grin. Moncaí his tail feathers! Oh, how he'd dreamed of putting Sarvenaz in the same room as Lucifer and letting his regal wife run circles around the pompous little prick. Beat up the way he was right now, Lucifer was verbal toast. Abaddon nodded to her. "Go ahead, Mo ghrá. Answer the Speaker's question."

  Sarvenaz answered in halting, but understandable Galactic Standard.

  “Lizard people capture me. Say I property of Shay’tan. Must go with them. Put me on … ship. Long trip. Many weeks. Put on new ship. Zepar teach me couple of words … your language. Lucifer introduce me to Abaddon. Abaddon ask me to marry him. Kiss my hand just like you." She blushed and gave Abaddon a coy smile. "I like him. I agree. We marry. He is … he is …”

  Lucifer stared at Sarvenaz with his mouth open, as though he had not expected her to speak. His forehead furrowed with concentration, he scrutinized her every word. His eyes met Abaddon's, his expression questioning.

  Was it because she had studied so hard to learn their language? Yes. That must be it. Some species, such as Angelics, had enhanced language learning capacity hardwired into their DNA, but most took years to learn a limited vocabulary. Sarvenaz was living proof that perhaps the ability had not been engineered by the Emperor, but was a trait their root race had possessed in the first place?