Jamin's eyes grew black with fury.
"Don't try your mind manipulations on me, sorceress," Jamin hissed. "Did you even love me a little? Or was it all just a game?"
Ninsianna remembered the times she had grit her teeth and pretended to listen to Jamin's ramblings about his dreams to transform Assur into the center of an Ubaid nation. She had cared for him because he was beautiful and all the other women had wanted him, but never had she loved him. No, she hadn't, even though he had fallen deeply in love with her. The only reason she'd agreed to marry him was because, at the time, she'd honestly believed that marrying the Chief's son was the will of She-who-is.
Jamin sensed her hesitation.
"That's what I thought." Jamin clenched his fist. He yanked the red cape off of her and approached the Evil One with the garment held before him as though he presented a raiment for a king, blood-red in the dying sun.
"You covet this cape? Don't you, chol beag?" the Evil One asked Shahla. He set the magnificent red cape around her shoulders as though he were a lover preparing her for their bridal bed. He murmured something into her ear, loosening her hair and arranging so that she wore it the way that Ninsianna usually did. "You do want to be together? Don't you?"
"Yes!" Shahla's spirit light was pink and happy. She wanted to go with him more than anything in the world.
"Just one small token of your affection," the Evil One pinched her chin. "And then you will be mine forever."
"He's not your husband!" Ninsianna shouted.
"Oh, but she is my wife," the Evil One laughed. "We even had a wedding ceremony, didn't we?” He gestured towards the fat lizard king. “Lord Zebub was kind enough to read the nuptials. And of course we consummated the marriage." He pulled Shahla into his crotch. "Didn't we, love?"
Shahla giggled. Ninsianna looked into her wide-open mind and saw the Evil One had mimicked her wedding to Mikhail, right down to a replica of her embroidered white linen shawl.
"I bore witness to it myself," Jamin glowered at her. He pulled a knife out of his belt, one Ninsianna recognized as a poorer version of the one carried by Mikhail, but far more effective than her own clunky stone blade. She struggled against the two brutally strong Angelic goons. Jamin stepped before her and stuck the point of the knife into the underside of her chin. Did he intend to kill her?
"Every single day since you spurned me and ran into that winged demon's arms," Jamin's nostrils flared, "I have dreamed of carving out his heart the same way that you carved out mine."
Ninsianna saw the place in Jamin’s spirit light where his heart still bled for her, the place where she had manipulated him to love her, and then she had hurt him when she had suddenly broken off their engagement. She-who-is's admonition, that it did not behoove her to be cruel, came back to haunt her.
"I am sorry that I hurt you," Ninsianna said. Tears welled into her eyes and she saw he was not unmoved. "I broke things off because we were not right for one another. Mikhail had nothing to do with it."
Jamin's hand trembled, causing the knife to cut her. Ninsianna winced. Jamin stared at the trickle of blood which seeped down his blade as though, just for a moment, he could not believe what he was doing. His eyes met hers, so black it looked as though she stared into the terrible dark path where only hours before she had refused to journey to transmute a little boy's sickness. It was not anger or hatred she saw in Jamin’s eyes, but a vortex of anguish so deep she thought it might swallow her alive.
She retreated from those hungry black eyes, the same way she had retreated from healing Namhu's illness. Jamin’s lip twitched with disappointment. His spirit-light shifted from deep fuchsia to an angry red.
"It's not your heart I want any longer," Jamin's voice hardened with hatred. "But his."
He whirled to stride over to the Evil One and handed him the knife.
"We had a bargain," Jamin said. "You rid my village of the demon and I would deliver to you his wife."
With a solemn nod, the Evil One took the knife and held it towards the lizard king. Ba'al Zebub held out a small vial and dripped a putrid green liquid out of it onto both sides of the blade. The Evil One tilted the knife this way and that until the entire surface glistened with a thin, oily sheen. With her goddess enhanced eyes, Ninsianna could see a putrid, green darkness emanate from whatever he'd used to coat it, as though the thing itself were comprised of puss.
With a start, she realized what they were about to do.
“No!” Ninsianna fought the grip of the two tainted Angelics with all of her strength. The Evil One’s purpose in capturing her had become terrifyingly clear.
Pains cramped in her abdomen, reminding her that too much exertion would put her baby at risk. She was overpowered. She must focus on the weakest link. She called Shahla’s name and was rewarded when the mind-damaged young woman looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“Shahla!” Ninsianna pleaded. “Don’t do this. Mikhail tried to help you! We are your people!!!”
“Come, my love…” the Evil One enclosed Shahla in one of his magnificent white wings. “We have work to do before we can be together. You do want to be together, don't you?”
“When I am done, you will carry me into the heavens to be your queen?” Shahla asked.
“Of course, my love,” the Evil One crooned. He caressed her cheek and pressed his lips to hers until Shahla’s knees buckled with desire. "But first we must make sure the Emperor's watchdog does not steal any more of your babies."
"You will give me another baby to love?"
A pang of guilt resounded deep in Ninsianna’s gut. She had refused to plead intervention on Shahla's behalf when the woman had gone into premature labor and been happy when the baby had died, taking all insinuations that Mikhail was the father with it. Ninsianna could see the putrid green tentacles the Evil One had sent into the weak spots in Shahla’s spirit light to manipulate her, the wound she had helped inflict by refusing to use her gift to console the broken-minded woman.
The Evil One’s eerie silver eyes met Ninsianna’s as though he knew what was going through her mind, taunting her. The thought intruded into her mind even though she fought to keep him out.
'See, Chosen of my daughter … you are no different than me…'
Shahla quivered beneath the Evil One's touch like a virgin about to go to her bridal bed.
"This baby really shall have wings," the Evil One whispered just loud enough for Ninsianna to hear.
With her goddess enhanced vision, Ninsianna could see the lies take root in the fertile soil of Shahla's delusions as he preyed upon her unrequited love for Mikhail. Piss-puke-putrid green claws of seduction slithered past his lips to wrap their viperous tentacles around the mind-damaged young woman's spirit-light. He pressed the knife gently into Shahla's hands and closed her fingers around it.
“Don’t listen to him, Shahla,” Ninsianna shouted. “He is the Evil One sung about in the ancient song!”
Shahla hesitated a second time.
“Bring her to Zepar,” the Evil One snapped at the two goons in the Angelic language which only Ninsianna could understand. “I cannot have her reasoning with my instrument?”
“Yes, Master,” the two tainted Angelics said.
"Jamin!" Ninsianna called to the Chief's son. "Please!"
Jamin gave her a smug smile as he moved to stand beside a slender lizard-man who regarded her with curious gold-green eyes. There was no help there, and she was pregnant and outnumbered. To win this fight, she would need to use her wits. She stopped struggling and pretended to follow the two goons docilely inside the sky canoe, waiting for her chance to get at the blade tucked into her loincloth.
A fourth Angelic approached her, ordinary in appearance with dirty-white wings, but this one was just as dark and rancid as the Evil One. The Evil One trailed into the sky canoe behind the other two, this time without Shahla … or Jamin.
"And now it is time to summons the last living Seraphim." The Evil One gave her a predatory grin.
>
"She is not mated to him, Master," the dirty-winged Angelic said. "I can see no sign of the Bond of Ki."
The Evil One closed his eyes and leaned closer, sniffing her scent as he had before. Ninsianna could feel him pluck the image of her most terrifying fear right out of her mind.
"There is a thread," the Evil One said, "but it’s a baser connection, unreturned and incomplete." He laughed. "This one is a powerful little sorceress to fool a full-blooded Seraphim into thinking he found his one true mate! We just need to give her the proper emotion to call him."
"Go to hell!" Ninsianna spat in his face.
She instantly realized her mistake. The Evil One dropped his veneer of slick taunting. His eyes turned scarlet. The seething hatred which roiled beneath the surface licked towards her like a conflagration, a horrific power, barely contained within the puppet of a shell he wore. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her back onto a strange, raised table. The two goons pressed her onto her back and held her helpless.
"Let's see what a half-Seraphim bastard looks like, shall we?" the Evil One's voice reverberated through her like a sandstorm. He tore aside her shawl, exposing the swell of her belly where Mikhail's child grew. His lips curved up in a cruel smile as he spotted the blade tucked into her loincloth. He grabbed it and held it high above her abdomen with both hands.
“What was it you said the Seraphim bastard would to do to me?” the Evil One snarled. His hands thrust the blade downwards, straight into her womb.
Ninsianna screamed.
"Mikhail!"
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 3
Watch out for false prophets.
They come to you in sheep’s clothing,
But inwardly they are ferocious wolves.
Matthew 7:15
November 3,390 BC (about an hour ago)
Earth: Mesopotamian Plain
Jamin
The Sata’anic lizard-soldiers piled wood upon the bonfire and built it to a height he’d only ever seen during the winter Narduğan celebration. The thin, green needles of tamarix shrubs sizzled, fat with moisture from the recent rains which had finally begun to fall after months of desiccation in the hot Mesopotamian heat. Unable to withstand the conflagration, they burst into flames, shooting sparks into the sky along with a tsunami of impenetrable, grey smoke. To the west, the horizon loomed blood-red like the ground after a gazelle hunt. The last rays of the dying sun faded beneath the sands of the desert horizon.
"Are you ready, my son?" Lucifer placed his hand upon Jamin's shoulder, a fatherly gesture.
A feeling akin to standing on the top of a mountain during a thunderstorm rippled through Jamin's nerve endings. He hadn't decided yet if that was a good or bad thing. His whole life he had dreamed of possessing enough prowess to conquer the non-allied tribes, and yet the mere sight of Lucifer made him want to drop down to his knees and beg for allegiance.
"Let's get this over with," Jamin said.
He forced himself to stand haughtily the way a chief's son should. He surveyed their preparations with a practiced eye. In just a few minutes the sky would be so black that no one would see beyond the bonfire to the three sky canoes waiting in ambush ... or the near-fourscore mercenaries the lizard-people had recruited from his father's enemies. From the air, it would appear as though a small raiding party had grabbed Ninsianna. He pointed to where Shahla whirled happily around the bonfire, dancing so the red cape flared out like a dervish.
"She won't be hurt?" Jamin asked.
"She is my wife," Lucifer crooned into Jamin's ear, so close the breathiness gave him chills. "Just one nick, to prove I can trust her when I fall asleep with her in my bed. Do you think I would otherwise put her at risk?"
"It is rumored you have many wives," Jamin said. He glanced over at Lieutenant Kasib, who’d been reticent ever since he’d decided not to stab the enemy Príomh-Aire with the knife the lizard had deliberately overlooked. "What use to you is one who is mind-broken?"
Lucifer's eerie silver eyes reflected the flames and made it appear as though he was filled with fire.
"It is not her mind which interests me,” Lucifer smirked. “All I care is that I can fill their wombs with sons and daughters. The emptier the mind, the better."
"And what of Ninsianna’s child?"
Lucifer gave Jamin the hungry look a man might give who was about to sit down for a decadent feast.
“Why,” Lucifer’s mouth curved up in a smile which showed off his perfect, white teeth, “I shall treat it as though it was my own child.”
Jamin shivered. Much as he had fantasized about teaching his unfaithful former fiancé a lesson, now that he had Ninsianna where he wanted her, he didn't like the way Lucifer savored her as though she was the evening meal.
"Ninsianna will hate me forever," Jamin said.
"There are ways to make a woman forget any man but you," Lucifer whispered conspiratorially. "I will teach you, young chieftain." Lucifer brushed Jamin's cheek with the back of his fingertips, just a little too familiar. "After you have given me a demonstration of your loyalty."
Lucifer's scent wafted around him, sweetness paired with brimstone and a muskiness so male it screamed of power. More power, even, than the entire tent full of Ubaid chiefs he'd just betrayed to get back at his father for banishing him. Oh, gods! His whole life he had dreamed of power, and now Lucifer kept hinting he would give it to him … as soon as he completed this little mission.
Images of Ninsianna danced into Jamin's mind. Eyes shut, she cried out his name again and again as he brought her up to ecstasy. The strange, foreign 'pants' grew uncomfortably tight around his crotch. A small groan escaped his lips. He could almost feel Ninsianna's wet feminine mysteries sliding against his manhood. Oh! Gods! Power? No … this was what he'd sold his soul to get!
"Ninsianna," Jamin whispered as though he uttered a prayer.
Lucifer pulled away his hand. A sickening revulsion, silent taunts of why would he want to take to bride a woman so well used when Lucifer could give him any woman he wanted, echoed through Jamin's mind and settled into his belly like rancid meat. Laughter, unspoken, burned in Lucifer’s eyes, mocking him for his constancy to a woman who had done nothing but betray him.
"Get out of my head," Jamin said.
'She carries the abomination of your enemy,' Lucifer taunted inside his head.
'I don't care,' Jamin thought to himself. 'If Ninsianna would love me, I would give it all away just to have her look at me the way she looks at Mikhail.'
Lucifer frowned. It felt like … loss. Loss of empathy. Loss of trust. He, like Shahla, had yet to prove he was worthy of Lucifer's beneficence. New images danced into his mind. Anger. His anger. He could almost taste how good it would feel to finally watch his adversary die. That ever-present rage ignited in Jamin's gut, grew hotter, more ferocious, as though Lucifer stoked the flames the same way the lizard people now piled wood upon the bonfire. Rage shuddered into his nerve endings and reddened his flesh like a desert fire. Lucifer had promised to give back to him what was his.
Lucifer's tongue darted out to lick his own lips as though he savored a drop of honey.
"Come, my son." Lucifer's voice sounded as warm and luscious as the sensation of floating on the Hiddekel River in summer. "Your hatred pleases me. Let us give form to this fantasy you have named as your price for selling to me your service, and then you will be mine. Forever."
"Yes." Jamin's mouth formed the words even though a small voice in his heart shouted no!
Lucifer curled one snowy white wing around Jamin's back as though he wished to shield him from the wind and led him towards his sky canoe. At Lucifer's heel, the fat lizard-king named Ba'al Zebub waddled like an over-eager mutt, his fangs protruding from his corpulent maw in a pleased grin. Jamin still hadn't figured out the dynamics of who was in charge. Lucifer? The fat lizard king? Or this dragon-god Kasib kept genuflecting to, the one on the coin called Emperor Shay'tan?
A large, green shadow moved to
stand in front of them, blocking their egress into Lucifer's shiny, dart-like sky canoe. General Hudhafah hissed something in the Sata’anic language. He was a large lizard, almost as tall as Lucifer, but far broader with a muscular body filled with many scars that could have only been earned in battle and a deep burgundy dewlap. His razor-sharp dorsal ridge reared up, giving him the illusion of being even taller.
“What?” Jamin looked from one to the other.
Lucifer’s grip tightened on his shoulder. Pain shot deep into his bones as Lucifer hissed something back at the Sata’anic general.
Jamin glanced at Lieutenant Kasib, a slender lizard, far lower in rank than the general he trailed behind. In his hand he held the flat, magical talisman he called a flatscreen. His long, forked tongue flitted frantically into the air as he pointed something on that screen out to General Hudhafah.
Lucifer flared his wings and pulled Jamin closer, the way one lion might do to another that was sniffing around its supper.
General Hudhafah growled and bared his fangs. That same musky scent Jamin had noted earlier filled the air. Lucifer wasn't the only one who exuded an air of authority.
A throb of anticipation pulsed through Jamin's body. Lucifer’s features hardened into a mask of hatred. Jamin stared, fascinated as Lucifer transformed from suave trader into a visage which reminded him of the auroch which had once gored and almost killed him. Allies? The two factions didn’t act like allies.
Hudhafah uttered something that sounded like a dog’s bark. Six lesser lizard demons stepped up behind him, fingering the holsters where the lizards kept their firesticks. The two cold-eyed Angelics which Kasib disparagingly referred to as goons stepped up to flank Lucifer and fingered their firesticks as well.
Jamin glanced at the two squat, grey lizard-ships which sat on either side of Lucifer's slender sky canoe as though they were hounds guarding a jackal. The implication was clear. Lucifer carried enough authority that the lizard people were forced to deal with him, but he was not in charge of this lizard general whose job it was to subdue Jamin's people.
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 4