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

by Anna Erishkigal

  Sarvenaz stumbled on stringing together the unfamiliar words. She stood before Parliament as though she was an empress, but he could see her becoming overwhelmed. He stepped up to stand behind her. She turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest, letting her actions convey the emotions she had trouble conveying using foreign words. Abaddon wrapped his arms around her shoulders and lifted her chin, caressing it with his thumb and forefinger, and could not help but tear up as she gazed lovingly into his eyes.

  “He most beautiful … husband … could ever have,” Sarvenaz reached up to trace his scar. “I love him … very much.”

  The ‘awwww’ that went through the room, even from the cynical camera crew who’d seen every sort of political stunt in the galaxy, was palpable. There wasn’t a single person in that room or watching via television in the galaxy beyond who didn’t understand the affection between the Alliance’s most feared general and his wife was genuine.

  “She’s so expressive.”

  “You can read what she’s thinking by her body language."

  "Look! The Destroyer is crying."

  And it was true. And he was not ashamed. He pulled her closer and kissed her, the kiss of a bridegroom kissing his wife in front of trillions of witnesses, to make sure the whole galaxy knew, without a doubt, that this woman was his wife.

  Parliament cheered.

  “Mrs. Abaddon,” the Speaker asked. “Would you like this General Court to open your homeworld to trade so more of your kind can come here just as you have?”

  Sarvenaz whirled to face the Speaker of the Commons.

  “No!”

  Abaddon drew back, surprised at that answer.

  “You don’t want us to open your homeworld to trade?”

  “Sarvenaz not slave for Sata’an Empire!!!” Sarvenaz stepped forward from the protection of his arms. “Never see lizard people until day captured. Lizard people don’t ask like Abaddon. They take!"

  Sarvenaz threw every aspect of her being into communicating with the people perched in the balconies above her. Like a queen rallying her troops into battle, it was to them she looked, understanding from the lessons he had given her on Alliance governance that they had the power to give her what she wanted.

  "Lizard people don’t belong on earth!" Sarvenaz shouted. "Sarvenaz not belong to lizard people. Sarvenaz belong to self!" She clutched her cloak to her chest. "Sarvenaz want lizard-people off of earth. Not their planet. Our planet! Humans not slaves to be sold or traded!!!”

  Parliament exploded in chatter at the sight of the animated human female transform into a passionate advocate for the interests of her people. Not even Lucifer had ever beseeched Parliament with such fire. Lucifer appeared to be dumbstruck. Abaddon wondered if the Emperor's torture had addled his brain?

  “Order! Order! Order!” the Speaker banged his gavel.

  Lucifer motioned for the Speaker of the Commons to come back over so he could whisper the petition to him.

  “Mrs. Abaddon,” the Speaker said. “What do you wish this Parliament to do?”

  “Kick lizard people off of earth,” she said. “Earth not Sata’an. Earth not Alliance. Earth is Earth. We are own people. Not slaves. Rather die than submit to lizard people. Let us choose who marry sky people. Who stay. Not lizard people. Sarvenaz ask Parliament to let husband kick lizard people off of Earth.”

  Sarvenaz proudly traced the scar which ran from his forehead, through his eyebrow, just narrowly missed his eye, and then continued down his cheek to his chin. Abaddon captured her hand, drew it up to his lips, and kissed the palm of her hand. Sarvenaz’s passionate speech had been unexpected, but the plea had come from her lips, not Lucifer's, and that pleased him.

  “Husband fight lizard people good,” she said proudly. “Many scars. Make lizard people go home. Want Parliament to make lizard people go home. Free Earth.”

  “If there was any doubt that your race was the root stock of all four of the hybrid races, Mrs. Abaddon,” the Speaker said, “you have just erased it. Unfortunately, we don’t know where your homeworld is. And even if we did, I’m not sure the Alliance would go to war with the Sata’an Empire over a single homeworld that is far from Alliance territory. We would have no way to protect your planet. I am sorry.”

  Sarvenaz looked as though she had just been crushed.

  “Earth not slaves. Humans fight lizard people to the death. Be no humans left to help sky people!” she cried out.

  Lucifer rallied at that point.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Abaddon. Much as I wish it wasn't true, the Speaker of the Commons is right … for now."

  He turned to address the larger Parliament.

  "But let’s not forget there is something we can do. We have the resolution pending before us right this moment. It would ensure that humans have the right to emigrate into Alliance territory.”

  At this point Supreme Commander-General Jophiel, who had been silent until now, leaped out of the shadows.

  "We don’t take slaves! It is repugnant to everything this Alliance stands for!"

  “Of course we don’t, Jophiel,” Lucifer practically spat at his nemesis. “Once they are here, they can become full citizens upon marriage to an Alliance citizen in accordance with existing Alliance law. Exactly the way Mrs. Abaddon has just become a full, free citizen of the Alliance.”

  "Your bill would leave them little more than sex slaves!" Jophiel hissed at him.

  "Like you, Jophie?" Lucifer spat right back in her face. "At least she married the first Angelic she ever lay down with. Unlike you, who threw marriage in your lover's face and chose to prostitute your ovaries to the Emperor's breeding program instead!"

  Whoa? Abaddon leaned forward, as did everyone else watching this debacle either live or on broadcast television. Had the alpha-stud just insinuated what he thought he'd just insinuated?

  Jophiel had that same perplexed look Lucifer had possessed moments before when Sarvenaz had given her speech, as though she had no idea what Lucifer was talking about. Okay, perhaps not? Whatever reason her mouth hung open, it appeared to infuriate Lucifer even further. He turned to his orchestra, his people, his Parliament, and played his magnum opus

  "The future of the Alliance depends upon the trade bill I have filed today to open up the human homeworld for trade and make legal the immigration of human spouses," Lucifer shouted. "All in favor say aye!”

  “Aye!” was the thunderous response of nearly all the members of both houses of Parliament.

  “Any nays?” Lucifer asked.

  “Nay!” a few dissenters called out.

  "No!" Jophiel shouted, although she did not possess a vote.

  “The Ayes have it!” the Speaker of the Common shouted. “We have far more than a two-thirds majority. The people have spoken! Effective immediately, on behalf of the Alliance, Lucifer is authorized to pursue whatever measures are necessary to immediately secure trade with the human homeworld.”

  Chaos erupted as Parliament enjoyed the heady victory of their defiance of the Eternal Emperor. Lucifer swayed and fell to his knees, the exhaustion of putting on that kind of political coup d'état while injured having taken its toll.

  It occurred to Abaddon that it was strange that Lucifer's Chief of Staff, Zepar had not shown up for this debacle? Probably because he was even guiltier than Lucifer was. The two cold-eyed goons weren't here, either. Like rodents fleeing the sinking command carrier.

  "You did it, kid," Abaddon kneeled in front of the brilliant showman who had just taken down a god. "Now the Emperor will have to pull his head out of his backside and earn his keep."

  "She talked," Lucifer stared past him at Sarvenaz, his expression dazed. "I saw it. She talked. I saw her people. I had no idea they were sentient."

  Abaddon placed his hand upon Lucifer's scorched wings, noting the curious pinpricks of new feathers already beginning to emerge. Some part of his brain picked up on the rapid rate of healing, but the clang of the Cherubim moving forward, a
s though not sure whether or not to take Lucifer back into custody, took precedent in his mind.

  "Pick him up and bring him to sick bay on the Jehoshophat," Abaddon ordered. "This man needs immediate medical attention."

  He then turned to where Jophiel stood between Lucifer and Master Yoritomo, pleading with him to not carry out the Emperor's order. She had no authority over the Emperor's personal Cherubim guard.

  "It's a good thing I ordered the Jehoshophat to aim her pulse cannons at every ship parked in the courtyard of this building," Abaddon said loudly enough that the Cherubim could hear. "You never know what a rioting mob might try after a historic vote such as this."

  The Cherubim did not move as his men moved to pick Lucifer up off the floor. They carried him as far as the exits when two men moved out of the shadows, where they'd no doubt been remaining inconspicuous in case they were implicated as well, Lucifer's bodyguards. The ones who had defied the Cherubim's direct order to remain silent and had set in motion whatever wheels Lucifer had set up as a Plan B in case the shit ever hit the fan.

  "We've got him, Sir," the older of the two muscle heads said. Parliamentary Secret Service. Eligor was his name.

  The second one, Abaddon couldn't remember his name, took Lucifer's other arm.

  "Eligor," Lucifer's cracked lip seeped blood as he reached out to take his bodyguard's hand. "You didn't abandon me."

  "No, Sir," Eligor said. The reticent Angelic wore an expression that could only be described as gratitude. "You were right."

  The two men propped up Lucifer between them and began to drag-carry him towards a door which led down into the basement.

  "Where are you taking him?" Abaddon asked.

  "Maybe it's better if you don't know?" Eligor said. "Just in case the Emperor pulls another temper tantrum?"

  Abaddon nodded. He had a million questions, but the two Secret Service agents were not in his direct chain of command. His questions could wait until they'd taken Lucifer someplace safe to tend his wounds and reset his wings. He was horrified at what the Emperor had done to his own son, but it was less severe than many of the insurrections Hashem had ordered Abaddon to put down. Scorched wings were child's play compared to a planet killer.

  "You've got some explaining to do when you heal up," Abaddon called after him. "And then you are going to apologize to my wife for calling her a moncaí."

  Lucifer grinned. "If I'd known she was that smart, I would have kept her for myself!"

  Abaddon turned to one of his men.

  "Follow him," Abaddon said. "Find out where they take him and position a ship to protect him in case the Emperor tries to arrest him again."

  "Yes, Sir," the man said. He grabbed three men and raced into the network of tunnels few people knew ran beneath Parliament.

  Abaddon nodded to his men it was time to leave. The soldiers flared their wings, whether gossamer or feathered, and elbowed anyone who didn’t move to clear the path for their commanding officer and his wife to escape. He gently arranged the hood back over Sarvenaz's head and nestled her into his side.

  "Where we go now, Husband?" Sarvenaz asked.

  He buried his nose into her hood and inhaled her scent.

  "Outside, Mo ghrá," he said, so proud of her he thought his heart would burst. "I promised I would take you outside."

  The mob parted before them, many dropping to their knees at the sight of the woman at his side. He brought her to the ornamental garden that graced one side of the building and led her to a tree, bending a branch down so she could reach it. On that branch sat a ripe, red fruit. Not the fruit he wished to give her, but that tree had not bloomed in 74,000 years, while this tree's fruit was real. It was the best he could offer her … for now.

  "Welcome to Haven, Mo ghrá," Abaddon's hand trembled as he plucked the sweet red fruit. It was the first of many gifts he intended to give her. Including, as soon as he found out where Shay'tan had hidden it, her homeworld.

  With the cameras and the ordinary citizens who surrounded them lurking a respectful distance, they intertwined their forearms around each other in a universal symbol of marriage and shared their first bite of the forbidden fruit together for the entire galaxy to witness.

  Chapter 52

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.10 AE

  Sata’an Empire: Hades-6

  Emperor Shay'tan

  Shay'tan

  "Would you like some fruit, Your Eminence?"

  Shay'tan opened one eye. Edasich, his most comely wife, though by no means the brightest, stood perched over him. His nostrils flared to give the succulent little fruits a sniff. Dragons were carnivorous by nature, but since his subjects were largely herbivores, an eating habit he encouraged because it increased his bottom line, it behooved him to set a good example. He'd adapted to eating other things besides meat and immensely enjoyed them, probably the reason for his increasing girth.

  "You are a beauteous flower within my Empire," Shay'tan purred. He grabbed the tender fruit and popped it into his snout, then grabbed the diminutive Sata'an female and pulled her into his chest as though she were a huggy pillow.

  Edasich giggled and snuggled against his girth, her hands caressing his scales. With a contented purr, Shay'tan covered her with one leathery wing and drifted back to sleep. His dreams wandered as they always did not to what he had, which was never enough, but to what he had lost.

  "Stellam Matutinum," he called out across the void and heard no answer. He awoke sad, as he always did, but with so many wives that feeling never lasted as long as it had the first few million years he had grieved for her. He nuzzled Edasich until she woke up and pleasured him, there being many ways for a woman to please a lusty old dragon such as himself. He was in the process of returning the favor, a dragon's tongue possessing wondrous magic, when a frantic pounding sounded on his door.

  "I am busy!" Shay'tan roared.

  "S-s-sir!" Budayl's voice drifted through the door. "This can't wait!"

  With a groan, Shay'tan helped his most comely wife pull on her clothes and winked. "Later," he promised her.

  With a giggle, Edasich disappeared into his harem.

  "Enter," he rumbled. The elderly scribe came in still wearing his pajamas, his tongue flitting frantically in the air and then slamming politely back into his mouth when he tasted what he'd just interrupted.

  "This had better be important."

  Usually Budayl was unbothered by the intrigues of his empire, but from the way his tail trembled, this wasn't good news.

  "P-p-perhaps I'd just better turn on the television and let you see for yourself, Sir," Budayl stuttered. He ran over to the television and turned the channel to one of the ones that picked up Alliance networks.

  Shay'tan watched in horror as his ancient adversary's adopted son not only wrested power from his immortal father, though by the look of him he'd been chewed up and shat out by Hashem first, but then called Hashem's greatest enforcer up to testify. Abaddon the Destroyer stepped up to the podium, unfurled his wing, and…

  "That's not the human Ba'al Zebub was authorized to gift to the Prime Minister!" Shay'tan roared. He watched, his temperature rising as Lucifer finished his speech.

  "Trade deal? What trade deal? I didn't authorize any trade deal!!!"

  Budayl trembled. "That's not all, Your Eminence. Remember when you asked me to dig through the bowels of our intelligence agency for reports, no matter how obscure? We found this."

  Budayl handed him a tablet device with an electronic copy of a handwritten report on it, and then scurried back to the door, ready to dive outside. Shay'tan read the complaint forwarded by General Hudhafah's logistics officer.

  "Three hundred and thirty!!!" Shay'tan roared, shaking the foundations of the palace. "Where is Admiral Musab? I want every ship I have left defending that planet!"

  "Th-th-that's just it s-s-sir," the scribe trembled. "Admiral Musab's scout ship just sent a subspace transmission from the uncharted territories. The planet Ba'al Zebub marked on your
chessboard is a dead planet. There's nothing there!"

  The scribe dove out the door.

  Shay'tan's eyes turned black with power, that power he had cast off eons ago when She-who-is had tempted him to play chess in one of her galaxies instead of the original job he had been sent here to do. The illusion slipped. That internal fire all true dragons possessed broke free as he flared his wings and opened his maw to howl Ba'al Zebub's name.

  All of Hades-6 shook as the dragon-who-moves-mountains transformed into his true form and incinerated the upper floors right off of his royal palace.

  Chapter 53

  Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.11 AE

  Borderlands: SMM Peykaap

  Sata'an Merchant Marines Lieutenant Apausha

  The SMM Peykaap was all engine and hidden cargo compartments, with few amenities and even fewer frills. She was built for stealth, as all Sata'an Merchant Marine ships were, and speed. Shay'tan officially designated them as trading vessels, but in reality the only 'trading' which went on was smuggling. The Peykaap shivered as it exited hyperspace.

  "Where's our contact?" Lieutenant Apausha asked his navigator. Apausha was the commander, pilot, mechanic and cook of this ship, not the most noble duty in the Sata'an Empire, but he'd grown fond of calling his own shots. His bravery in answering a distress call two years ago, saving not only his fellow merchant marines, which nobody really cared about, but also a shipful of Ba'al Zebub's money, had earned him a wife.

  "About twenty-five minutes out, Sir," Hanuud said. The Peykaap's navigator and radio expert was a clever lizard, if a bit spastic, and prone to fits of excitement at the slightest provocation. "They've moved closer to the border with the Tokoloshe Kingdom. The crown prince must be expecting trouble."

  "Cannibals," Wajid snorted with disgust, the third member of their crew and Apausha's copilot. "Must be big trouble if they consider the Tokoloshe to be a safe harbor." The opposite of the flighty Hanuud, Wajid was a big, burly rock of a lizard, with a thick tail and even thicker waist from years of flying long missions in deep space.