"Ready your arrows!" Varshab shouted.
Pareesa only cared to shoot one thing … whoever was firing their pulse rifle at Mikhail. In the bonfire she caught the silhouette of a huge, dark wing. She took aim and pulled the arrow back to her chin, still running as her intuition told her which target to shoot at first. She paused just long enough to perfect her aim before releasing her fingers and allowing the arrow to fly. No sooner was it out of her bow than she reached back and grabbed another one.
The thwung-thwung-thwung of the other warriors' bows prompted her forward. Mikhail was down, but his wings flailed, so she knew he was still alive. She let fly her second arrow, hitting a lizard, and then let out a ululating war cry as she cast aside her bow and pulled her sword. This time, the god of war did not deter her. She rushed into the clearing where perhaps two dozen lizard demons had Mikhail pinned to the ground.
This time, it wasn't a firestick the lizard demons aimed at her, but a sword exactly like hers. A massive shape materialized in front of her, and a sharp, silver blade struck hers with the force of a charging auroch. Pareesa stepped back and cried out as the reverberation shook her to her bones. These weren't human mercenaries facing a weapon they had never seen before, but seasoned soldiers who knew how to use their weapons even better than she did.
The lizard-demon lunged at her, not with the awkward overhead thrust the Ubaid had practiced amongst themselves, but a clever down-then-side cut she remembered using against the Amorites. Pareesa leaped backwards as the sideswipe cut her shawl, but left the skin beneath unscathed. That eerie sense of knowing what someone intended to do before they actually did it enabled her to get out of the way just in time to avoid being smote.
An image leaped into her mind of hitting the lizard while his momentum was committed to the downswing. Pareesa slammed her sword into his kidney. The lizard fell. Without even waiting to see if the lizard was still alive, she rushed towards Mikhail and was heartened when she saw him get back on his feet.
He leaned forward like a stalking lion and sprinted towards the open door of the sky canoe.
It was then that she saw Jamin….
And he saw her…
With a malicious grin, the Chief's son pulled a lever to make the door of the sky canoe close shut like a crocodile's jaw closing around its supper, but not without first aiming another shot of his firestick at Mikhail!
They were too late! She ran towards the vessel, but a huge lizard man stumbled in front of her. She stabbed him with her sword and kept running past him, desperate to catch up with the sky canoe before it ascended back into the sky. It blew debris and dust into her face, causing her to choke. It took off, but a dark-winged blur sped off after it, chasing after it as it tried to escape.
"Go get it!" Pareesa cheered.
She stood for a moment, wishing she had hung onto her bow as the two specks of darkness disappeared into the starry sky, and then realized a battle of sorts still waged all around her. She heard human cries of pain, and inhuman ones that sounded more like snorts and growls. The warriors surrounded the clearing and pushed inward, their expressions hateful as they picked up fallen swords or simply aimed their bows or spears at the lizard demons and other creatures that had been abandoned by the sky canoe to die.
Varshab? Where was Varshab? She realized that was him lying on the ground in the center of the circle of enemies, along with several enemy dead and wounded. An enormous lizard bent over Varshab’s body, poking at a gash in his belly with its claws.
Pareesa stepped forward and pressed the point of her sword against the lizard demon's throat.
"Get away from him," she hissed.
The lizard blinked its enormous gold-green eyes at her as though it was surprised, and then it tasted the air with a long, forked tongue that looked remarkably like a serpent's tongue.
"Please don't hurt me," the lizard spoke in passably understandable Kemet, the language of trade. "My name is Doctor Peyman, and I am a pabeeb, what you would call a healer."
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 82
February: 3,389 BC
Earth: Mesopotamian Plain
Mikhail
He glided above the fertile fields searching for her, the ear-grasses grown high and the lush orchards of úlla and piorraí grown heavy with fruit. He fluttered down to the ground next to an elderly lizard-man bent over a lattice filled with curcurbit vines.
"Are you looking for your beartaithe, little master?" the old lizard asked.
"Have you seen her?" Mikhail asked.
The lizard-man laughed.
"You know the rules," the lizard man said. "The Abmáthair will banish me to shovel out the animal pens if I help you cheat. If you want to find her, you will have to find her on your own."
Mikhail trudged through the orchard, remembering the lessons his seanmháthair had taught him about how to find Amhrán no matter how well she hid. He closed his eyes and focused on his heart, how close she was and in what direction he could find her.
He looked straight up and found her fathomless black eyes staring down at him from the very tree he stood beneath.
Amhrán giggled.
Haah-ha-ha-haah! Haah-ha-hah-ha-hah-haah!
She spread her ebony wings and fluttered to the ground, clutching the awkward carved statue he had made for her as if it was the most beautiful gift in the world.
Hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah!
Something tugged at his wings.
Mikhail groaned and opened his eyes, squinting into the sun.
Hah-ha-haah-ha-ha-hah-haah!
A spotted hyena squinted back at him, its dark muzzle and large, round ears tilted forward with curiosity. It tugged at his wings again.
He lurched upright and swatted at the creature.
"Hey! Get on out of here!"
The hyena ran to join its pack-mates, giving its laughing call that sounded to be a gathering of children but not for the fact the creatures were deadly scavengers. Hyenas tended to shy away from man, years of experience having taught them that most men carried a knife or spear, but a single man alone, and wounded, was easy prey for the opportunistic pack hunters. He stood up and flared his wings to show the creatures he would not make a willing meal.
The hyenas gave their laughing call, and then moved away, off to hunt for an easier meal.
Mikhail spread his wings and examined the spots where Jamin's pulse rifle had burned some of his long primary feathers. The man might have deadly aim when shooting at a stationary target, but lucky for him, Jamin couldn't hit a moving target worth a hill of goat dung.
He distinctly remembered the plasma from the pulse rifle had grazed him, but while his feathers were charred, his skin had scabbed over and brand-new pinfeathers were already beginning to emerge. His hand found its way to his chest which had just as miraculously healed. The dream had faded, but the song he had heard while he dreamed had not.
He remembered the tiny, carved statue in the dream, a primitive thing, one of the many objects in his crashed ship that had always evoked a deep emotional response, but without his memories, he couldn't remember why. Now that his memory had been partially restored, he still couldn't remember why he had saved it, but in the dream it had seemed to have significant meaning. Ninsianna had made fun of the tiny statue, so he had hidden it away, though at the time he couldn't remember why it had bothered him enough to do so.
He stretched his wings to test them for other damage and was relieved when the only pain he felt was exhaustion and fatigue. It felt as though somebody had taken a steel support rod and beaten every inch of his body, but other than a few scratches he was unharmed. Unharmed, that is, except for his ego. This was the fourth time he had failed to capture a ship!
He scanned the horizon, trying to get his bearings. The landscape was sparse, but the scent of water blew from his east, not his west, so at some point while chasing the Sata'anic scout ship he must have crossed over the Hiddekel River and ended up on the other side.
He str
etched his wings to get airborne, but his lingering muscle atrophication paired with exhaustion from last night's failed mission left him unable to get off the ground. Adrenaline had enabled him to make up for the loss of aerodynamics caused by the hole in his long, primary feathers, but not today. Today, he was just a creature of the earth.
Triangulating his position by the known compass points of the rising sun, Mikhail began the long trudge back to Assur.
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 83
February: 3,389 BC
Earth: Sata'an Forward Operating Base
Jamin
General Hudhafah was a burly lizard, over five cubits tall, with broad shoulders and the deep chest of a bull. Every single manû of that lizard towered over Jamin now, his gold-green eyes emerald with fury as the general chewed him out for last night's debacle.
"You were supposed to bring back tribute," Hudhafah snarled. "Just tribute! Not continue your feud with the rogue Angelic!"
"You told me put an end to his trouble," Jamin said.
Hudhafah grunted a disgusted snort.
"I told you to kill the man! Not to toy with him!"
"Well if you gave me the proper weapons to do it," Jamin said, "instead of expecting your men to play with our crude, native weapons, he'd be dead by now instead of making our lives miserable. Wouldn't he?"
General Hudhafah's claws extended, not used to this type of backtalk from his men.
"Then why didn't you hit your own village of origin first," Hudhafah growled. "When there was still enough power to fire the pulse cannon?"
Jamin's cheek twitched. Yes. Why had he gone after Nineveh first?
"At the time, our allies had told us the Angelic was dead," Jamin said. "Assur is the second most powerful Ubaid village in the grain-growing region. Not the first one. You told me to bring the entire tribe into compliance with Sata'anic rule. Nineveh is, and always has been, the key to all trade in the region."
A dangerous growl rumbled in Hudhafah's chest, but the fierce lizard general knew he was right. They had discussed this plan before Jamin had blasted down Nineveh's walls, and until last night, the general had been pleased with how readily the subsequent villages had all capitulated despite the fact the Angelic was still alive.
"We lost six good men," Hudhafah said. "Including our doctor. The other men were only skull-crackers. But Peyman … he was the one man on this base we couldn't afford to lose."
Only skull-crackers? Jamin's black eye's flashed with anger. Private Katlego had been seriously injured and Specialist Iyad was missing and presumed dead. His friends always joked that they were insignificant cogs in Shay'tan's army, but to hear his friends' sacrifices spoken of so dismissively caused his hackles to rise.
"Taking Peyman along wasn't my idea," Jamin said. He pointed at Lieutenant Kasib, who stood with his tail tucked up tightly along his right side as he tapped away at his flatscreen. "Kasib said we were being too brutal; that along with the stick of Sata'anic law, we needed to add the temptation of good things to come."
"Me?" Kasib chimed in. "You told me your own healer was trained in that village! Doctor Peyman wished to make contact with them and teach them how to immunize their children."
"If it had been up to me," Jamin said, "the good doctor would have stayed in his house of healing. Not wasted precious healer's supplies. Even we know enough not to drag our healers into battle!"
The small, slender lizard stepped forward, his tail bobbing back and forth emphatically.
"Vaccines are the only medical supply we aren't running out of because Doctor Peyman hasn't been allowed to do his job," Kasib said. "We didn't anticipate he'd run out and begin emergency field triage!"
General Hudhafah growled and reminded the both of them he wasn't interested in hearing the two of them point fingers at one another.
"The other soldiers testified you had the Angelic in your gunsights," Hudhafah said. "Why didn't you kill him?"
"Maybe if you let me practice with this thing instead of carrying it around as a hip-weight," Jamin caressed his pulse rifle in its holster, "perhaps I might have been able to kill him instead of just burning a hole in his wings."
Hudhafah stroked his dewlap between his thumb and forefinger.
"You have been a useful ally, little chieftain," Hudhafah said, "but I think your hatred of this Angelic has clouded your thinking. Your game of cat and mouse has to end."
Jamin suppressed the urge to kick something, anything, scream, punch a desk, and knock over the too-tall pile of folders on General Hudhafah's desk. Hudhafah was right. He'd looked Mikhail in the eye and had hesitated to pull the trigger to taunt him.
"Let me hit the Assurians directly," Jamin said softly. "I'll level the walls and strip them of what they need to survive unless they submit and earn it back, just like I did with Nineveh. We've undermined the Angelic enough that it should be the last straw."
Hudhafah grimaced, and then pointed at Kasib who watched the exchange with his usual hyper-vigilant anxiousness.
"The fuel we use to run our shuttles is critically low," Hudhafah said. "Our resupply armada is months overdue, and our network of smugglers had to be disbanded due to security breaches. That's why we didn't kill Lucifer when he showed up here with Ba'al Zebub. We thought he might know why it's been delayed."
Jamin remembered Marwan's words, his hoped-to-be father-in-law who was beginning to look more and more like just another daydream.
'Make yourself indispensable to the lizard people, and perhaps one day they will repay you…'
"What do you need me to do to help?" Jamin asked.
Kasib looked relieved. Hudhafah, on the other hand? He looked like he always did. A very busy lizard with far too many responsibilities and not enough time or resources to get it all done.
"The same thing you have been doing," Hudhafah said. "Teach our men to live off the land without irreparably harming our ability to ally with the local population and bring them under Sata'anic rule."
"What if your armada never arrives?" Jamin asked.
General Hudhafah gave Kasib a worried look.
"Let's just hope it does."
Jamin gave the appropriate salutes, and then moved out into the larger base, this place that was home even though it didn't feel like home. He kicked a pebble out of the way. Should he go visit Private Katlego in the house of healing, where he was recovering from nearly getting his arm chopped off by Mikhail's sword? Or should he go do something else? Organize a hunt. Be a distraction?
He stared out across the Akdeniz Sea. He'd grown up next to a river, but never had he seen anything as large as the sea which lapped at the shores upon which the base had been built. He trudged through the downed sky canoes, which couldn't fly even if they wanted to, to the place where the Sata'anic soldiers had buried the only friend he had left.
It was ironic. Back in Assur, Shahla had always been viewed as self-centered and flighty, but to the lizard people, she was the first female they'd ever seen walk right up to an Angelic and stab him in the chest. In their minds, Shahla was a martyr. Her grave had become a pilgrimage for many of the soldiers, which was why they thought he visited her every night. He had omitted telling them that, before she had died, Shahla had gone crazy and he had been the cause.
He ran his hand along the cold, grey stone. Today there were fresh gifts of woven grasses, the seed of a mango carried here from far-off lands, a stag's horn, and two different feet from different rabbits, placed alongside the gift he had made to her of Qishtea's shorn hair.
"Hello, Shahla," Jamin said softly. "I see I haven't been your only visitor today."
The never-ending breeze carried in from the salty ocean had blown in and knocked off the other gifts. He picked them up and weighted them down with rocks so they wouldn't blow off again. What did they pray for, these men who brought gifts for the girlfriend he had spurned? Did they pray for a safe return home? Bravery in battle? An honorable death, as they viewed her death to have been? Or did they pra
y for more mundane things? For increased rations and success during a hunt? Was this how the legends of She-who-is had begun?
He plopped down on the rocky soil and pressed his back against the stone, staring at the tombs of the five lizard men who had failed to protect her. Their graves, too, had picked up small trinkets from the men they had served with, but not as many as Shahla, who the longer he was stationed here had begun to acquire the reputation of a goddess. He was partially at fault for that perception. He couldn't bear to tell them how very flawed she had been, for to do so would be to admit he was flawed as well. In his own mind the stories had begun to acquire the ring of truth, and he repeated them often, wanting to believe them even though he knew they were false.
"I had him," Jamin confessed into the air. "I had him in my sights, and instead of pulling the trigger, I decided I wanted to taunt him."
He picked up a pebble and threw it down the hill, listening to the soft clink against the backdrop of the ever-present bustle of activity of the base.
"The funny thing is that when I looked into his eyes," Jamin said. "I realized I had been so busy trying to carve out his heart for taking Ninsianna, that I had failed to notice that I had gone and carved out my own heart instead."
He picked up a small, woven wreath of grass that one of the Sata'an soldiers had left, he had no idea which one, and smoothed it out. It was, he suspected, a fertility symbol; a soldier's prayer to receive a wife as very few men on this base had yet been deemed heroic enough to receive. Here he'd had a baby on the way, maybe it hadn't been his, but it could have been his, and to these men, that female would have been precious because she was fertile. Why had he been so stupid and not just married Shahla like Dadbeh had been willing to do? Maybe that's why he felt so protective now of Aturdokht and her unwanted baby girl?
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 82