“Ninsianna,” the woman smiled and pointed to her own chest. “Idonno,” she pointed at him.
“No." He shook his head in frustration. “I don't remember.”
“Ninsianna,” the woman pointed to her own chest and frowned. “Idonrememba,” she pointed at him.
“No, I don't know who I am!" he said. "I can't remember!" He hit his own forehead to emphasize it wasn't working properly and groaned as the stitches holding together the reason he couldn't remember shot pain into his skull. The room began to spin. He closed his eyes until the vertigo subsided.
The woman frowned until it dawned on her what he was trying to say. She touched his head near the stitches and nodded to indicate she understood his head injury was muddling his thoughts. Silently resuming her ministrations, she dabbed dried blood from his scalp, pausing occasionally to pat his wings as though she had never seen such a thing before.
He avoided wincing, not wishing to see her expression of dismay every time he flinched. When she got to his chest wound, she noticed the silver tags strung around his neck. She pointed and asked a question. Pulling the slender chain from beneath his shirt, he read the information etched into the dog tags in boxy cuneiform.
“Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili, 352d SOG, Angelic Air Force." Although the information failed to jog any personal recollection, he understood what it meant.
“You, Ninsianna," he pointed to her chest. "Me … Mikhail."
“Mikhail,” Ninsianna repeated and smiled, speaking a line of gibberish before saying again, “Mikhail.”
Although the name didn't ring any bells, it pleased him to hear her say it aloud. He assumed it was his name because the only reason he would wear dog tags was so his fellow soldiers could retrieve his body for burial. He was a soldier. A soldier who had achieved the respectable rank of Colonel. It wasn't much, but it was something.
She held out her water skin and gestured for him to drink. He nearly emptied it before he realized he should have left some. Ninsianna signaled she was leaving to fetch more water. She gave him a stern look, pointing to the floor and pulling the blanket to his neck, and made the universal hand at the side of her head to signal sleep. The fact they shared the same underlying body language felt oddly reassuring.
"Okay," Mikhail nodded.
Ninsianna touched his cheek, her tawny beige eyes filled with compassion before she rose and exited the ship. As she left, he realized how very vulnerable he was. She would be back … he hoped.
His head hurt. Everything had a surreal glow. Sleep gladly overtook him once more.
Chapter 8
February - 3,390 BC
Earth: Crash site
Ninsianna
Ninsianna crawled over the rubble which blocked the crack out of the great sky canoe and worked her way down to the stream which tumbled down from the hill into the bowl-shaped oasis where Mikhail's sky canoe had partially buried itself. As she walked, she spoke aloud her thoughts the way one might speak to her closest friend.
“He's so emotionless, Mother, as though he possesses no fear!”
Free! She was free! Her gait turned into a girlish skip as she saw the goddess had brought the sky canoe down into an oasis. A small shadow fell across her path, its outstretched silhouette indicating which animal cast it. Ninsianna glanced up, just in time to see an enormous golden eagle swoop into the stream which widened out in front of her. It was a positive omen, for eagles were sacred to her people. The eagle dove beneath the surface, wings splashing water as it came up carrying a nice, fat fish. Ninsianna laughed as the eagle effortlessly carried its squirming dinner up into the sky.
"Yes, mother! I agree! He must be a formidable warrior! Now if only he could remember his own name!"
Ninsianna wracked her brains for what little she knew about amnesia. Mama had spoken of such amnesia after a warrior had suffered a blow to the head. Usually a few hours passed and then the memories would return, although Mikhail (she said his name several times and decided she liked the way it rolled across her tongue) appeared to be unusually lucid for someone who couldn't remember his own name. Perhaps he'd misunderstood her question? Or was he withholding information? She reached the brook, swollen with water from the late winter rains, and kneeled.
“Thank you, Mother, for giving me this pure water,” she sang, for in a land with scant rainfall, all water was considered sacred. She scooped up a handful, faced the east, and offered her first drink to the earth as an offer of gratitude before filling her water skin.
Her own reflection shone back at her from the pool, her face and shawl smeared crimson with Mikhail's blood. Leaving on her shawl so it would get clean, she waded waist-deep into the stream and kneeled in the spot where the eagle had snatched the fish only moments before. Swollen with the winter rains, the stream was just deep enough to sink up to her neck if she sat down. Ducking beneath the surface to wash her hair, she did not hear the sound of approaching feet.
“Ninsianna … come here!"
She flipped back her wet hair and frowned at the sight of Jamin and his entourage of warriors. So … her jilted fiancé had found her at last? Well … it was too late! The goddess herself had sent someone better to take his place! She jutted out her chin with defiance.
“I will not marry you!" Ninsianna said. "So leave me alone and I shall take up residence here!" The will of the goddess filled her with bravery. She luxuriated in his wounded expression as she turned her back on him as no other woman would dare do to the chief's son, signaling she wished to have nothing more to do with him.
Jamin made a sound like a duck who was having his neck wrung.
“I don't think she likes you anymore,” Dadbeh teased him.
Firouz began to slurp like a dog. Ninsianna didn't know what the gesture meant, but it made Jamin shake with anger. He pointed at her, his expression grim.
“I'll show you, woman, who is in charge of this tribe!" Jamin waded into the water after her, he the hunter and she the prey.
Ninsianna trembled, but stood her ground. The goddess would not allow herself to be bullied by a man, so neither would she! The power of the goddess surged through her veins like a bolt of lightning as she imagined she was like She-who-is. Never before had she felt so powerful, so bold.
“You are NOT the chief of this tribe, yet!” Ninsianna shouted. “And I will not obey you!”
The other warriors cat-called and made jokes about recalcitrant goats. Jamin splashed towards her; a tall, dark god; his black eyes filled with anger as she crossed her arms and glowered right back at him.
“You will come away from this accursed fallen star before you get yourself hurt!" Jamin grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the shore.
Ninsianna slapped him.
The warriors burst out laughing.
Jamin grabbed her by the hair.
"How dare y…."
Her words were cut short as he shoved her face beneath the water. Ninsianna fought to break his grip, but he kept his fingers wrapped securely in her hair. With an ungentle yank, he pulled her back above the surface. Ninsianna gasped for breath.
“Do you yield?”
“How dare you!" Ninsianna sputtered. Her blood boiling, she hit him as hard as she could. The other warriors laughed as Jamin shoved her face beneath the water a second time. Water came rushing up her nose. She kicked and hit with all of her might, but Jamin was taller and more than twice her weight. She gasped for breath as he pulled her head back above the surface a second time.
“Do you yield?”
"Never!"
Ninsianna kicked backwards and landed her heel in Jamin's testicles. Jamin yowled in pain.
“I will teach you some respect, woman!"
He shoved her head beneath the water a third time. This time, he held her there until she had no choice but to breathe the water into her lungs. The sound of her own heart pounding in her ears muffled the sound of Jamin's voice filtering through the water.
'Help me…' she prayed to She-who-is. 'H
elp me, please. I am not strong enough to fight him on my own…'
Jamin suddenly loosened his grip. She popped back above the surface, vomiting water until she realized the warriors all gaped at something on the shore. Walking towards them from the shattered sky canoe, one wing outstretched, the other dragging uselessly behind him, came Mikhail.
'Thank you, Mother…'
“He is my protector,” she shouted aloud, hoping to panic them before they noticed how badly injured Mikhail was. “Run, before he smites you where you stand!”
A bolt of blue lightning erupted from Mikhail's hand and exploded the rocks at the warrior's feet, tossing them backwards as though they'd just been rammed. Smoke and a scent like a thunderstorm wafted up from the place where the lightning had struck. With a shout, the warriors ran away.
Jamin, however, had never been one to back away from a fight, especially when it was over something he viewed to be his. He grabbed her arm and shoved her behind his back, his dark eyes flashing with defiance.
“Stay behind me and I'll protect you from the demon," Jamin hissed. He stood frozen between her and Mikhail, eyeing the spear he'd left on the banks of the stream, no doubt calculating his best chance to regain the high ground.
"Níor mhaith liom a dhéanamh má bhí tú mé," Mikhail gestured towards them with the strange, black firestick he held in his hands.
A second bolt of lightning landed perilously close to Jamin’s side, showering them both with water and also a strange sensation as though they'd both been stung. Jamin yelped, but he did not let her go. Mikhail pointed the firestick at Jamin’s chest and gestured for her to come to shore.
"Ninsianna, teacht anseo!”
“Over my dead body!"
Jamin broadened his stance so he appeared as threatening as a man could possibly appear whilst standing waist deep in water with no weapon and nowhere to run. His grip tightened, twisting her arm as he stood between her and Mikhail. Ninsianna realized he thought he was protecting her! His possessiveness was about to get him killed!
The two alpha-predators stared one another down, both of them eager to claim her to be their prize. Mikhail had the higher ground, but he was badly wounded, while Jamin was in top physical form. She needed to break his grip and distract him before he realized the dark coloring of Mikhail's shirt was not dye, but dried blood. Making a fist, she punched Jamin in the face and yanked away.
"Get away from me!" Ninsianna shrieked.
Jamin's look of surprise as she broke free was precious!
"Ninsianna?"
Splashing water everywhere, she skittered up the banks of the stream and froze as she recognized Mikhail's grip on consciousness was tenuous at best. If he passed out now, Jamin would positively kill him. She ran into his arms and snaked her arms around his waist as though she embraced her lover to prevent Mikhail from toppling over, wedging her shoulder under his broken arm so his firestick remained free.
“Téigh ar!” Mikhail growled. “Faigh an ifreann as anseo!”
“Leave!!!” she shouted. “Before he smites you for your insolence!”
Jamin looked from her to Mikhail, his black eyes filled first with dismay, and then hatred as he jumped to the conclusion Ninsianna intended for him to jump to.
“You told me that you loved me," Jamin shouted at her, "and now you betray me for a demon?"
The chief's son stepped towards her, his hand outstretched as though he was a common beggar. Ninsianna lifted her chin and hugged Mikhail, a universal, feminine symbol of mine. Jamin stiffened, pride subsuming hurt as he finally understood what she'd been trying to tell him for the last three days. She did not want him. She wanted somebody better.
His fists clenched, Jamin bolted out of the opposite side of the stream and grabbed his spear. He stalked off in the same direction his more cowardly compatriots had just gone, his expression so dark it gave Ninsianna chills.
As soon as Jamin climbed out of the bowl of the valley, Mikhail collapsed, dragging her down along with him, for he was so heavy there was little she could do but slow his descent. Wiggling to extricate herself from beneath his enormous wings, she spat out a mouthful of black-brown feathers. The ground here was hard and rocky, so she sat back down and cradled his head upon her lap.
She touched the base of his throat. Although Mikhail was deathly pale, a steady throb greeted her sensitive fingertips. With a sigh, Ninsianna shut her eyes as the energy she'd felt earlier suddenly abandoned her, leaving her feeling tired and weak.
“You're too large for me to drag back to your sky canoe,” Ninsianna said. “I'm afraid I would reopen your wounds if I even tried. We shall just have to wait until you wake up so we can do it together."
In the dim confines of the shattered sky canoe, there had not been enough light to get a good look at her patient, but out here in the daylight, she could see how enormous Mikhail truly was. Ninsianna was average height, while Jamin, who was tall for her people, stood two hand-spans taller than the top of her head, but when she'd stood next to Mikhail, her head didn't even reach his chin.
She studied his magnificent, twenty-cubit wings, even bigger than the mated pair of golden eagles who circled above the Hiddekel River. His plumage was brownish-black, with golden sable stripes the closer you got to his skin. She ran her fingers through his feathers, relishing the contrast between the stiff primary feathers and his soft downy under feathers with a smattering of grey speckled feathers on the underside of one wing, but not the other.
Wings! The goddess had sent her a man with wings! Ninsianna could not help but giggle like a little girl.
She ran her fingers through hair the color of roasted acorns, a sharp contrast to his flesh which was as pale and pink as the clouds which trailed across a morning sky, not the light brown complexion that graced all but a few of her own people. Her fingers memorized each exquisite detail of the creature the goddess had placed into her care. Mikhail's chiseled features were not those of the Ubaid, but the flint warriors shaped to adorn their spears: sharp, beautiful and deadly. She ran her fingers over his muscular chest and relished each striation, the body of a warrior in peak condition.
Her very own demi-god!
“Thank you for rescuing me." Ninsianna touched the hairless skin above his lips and wondered about the absence of a beard. “I don't know how you even heard me, much less got up and walked with all of your injuries. No wonder the goddess wanted me to save your life!"
She closed her eyes and focused the healing light of She-who-is through her hands to speed his recovery the way that Mama had taught her to do. Her hands tingled; warmer, even, than when she had prayed to heal the Chief's son. Thankful. Oh, goddess, how very thankful she was! Mikhail was the answer to her prayer!
“Can I keep him?” Ninsianna slipped her fingers through the soft under-feathers of his wings and lifted her face up towards the sun. “Please, Mother? I'd really like to keep him!”
Chapter 9
But you said in your heart,
I'll ascend to heaven;
I'll raise my throne above the stars of God,
And I'll sit on the mount of assembly
In the recesses of the north.
I'll ascend above the heights of the clouds;
I'll make myself like the Most High.
Isaiah 14:13-14
Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.02 AE
Haven-3: Alliance Hall of Parliament
Prime Minister Lucifer
Lucifer
“The Prime Minister will now address Parliament.”
Lucifer ascended the central podium, his niveous white wings draped artfully behind his back like the Eternal Emperor's mantle. Balcony after balcony cascaded upwards towards the dome; each delegate representing a homeworld in an empire which spanned almost half the galaxy. The delegates were as varied as the worlds they represented: mammals, insectoids, amphibians and other life forms. Each species had a homeworld where they'd evolved naturally under the protection of the Emperor until they'd achieve
d a level of sentience sufficient to earn their species membership in the Galactic Alliance. Each species had a voice to assert their rights; every species except for one…
His...
The delegates chattered, cutting deals as elected officials were wont to do. Lucifer pressed his sensual lips together, waiting for the General Assembly to quiet down. The cacophony continued; a feeding frenzy of back-room deals; this vote for that one; cast your vote for this pet project and I'll release your bill from committee. Lucifer closed his eyes and focused on the flow of self-interest which, due to the gift of empathy bestowed upon him by a half-Seraphim mother, allowed him to visualize the gist of the delegate's desires.
Enhanced Angelic senses registered the sybaritic tickle of expensive aftershave, aged brandy, and the lingering scent of todóg. His eerie platinum eyes scanned the coliseum; perceptive, cynical, reflective as he put a name to the strongest of those desires and noted the places he might bring persuasion to bear. At last he signaled the Speaker to begin the show.
"In the name of the Eternal Emperor," the tall, serpent-like Speaker pounded his gavel, "I hereby call this joint session of Parliament to order!"
The delegates stared down from their lofty balconies, their multifarious eyes glittering with resentment at having been summoned to do their job. Lucifer hid his contempt beneath a politician's smile, beneficent, brilliant and fruitful with the promise of better days to come. He made eye contact with each of the major players, and then spoke into the cameras which broadcast his image to the public.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Lucifer said. “I have summoned the General Assembly to discuss the free trade resolution currently being debated for an override.”
The acoustics were such that the slightest whisper carried across the chamber. A rumble of dissent rippled through the great hall; expressing dissatisfaction, expressing doubt of his ability to enforce his will. Once already this year he had passed this measure by the slenderest of margins. It had ignited such a firestorm that the Eternal Emperor himself had intervened to slap it down with a rare imperial veto.
Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 4