Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (112 page)

Eligor turned, his wings tucked tightly against his back.

"Why didn't you succeed?" Eligor asked. Beneath the mask, Ninsianna thought she could detect a hint of curiosity. "Why weren't you able to restore her humanity?"

Ninsianna gave him a wistful look.

"Because she coveted my husband and I was jealous," Ninsianna said. "So I refused to help her when it still might have made a difference."

Eligor met her gaze and gave her a nod, although what, exactly he agreed with she was not certain. He pointed at poor, terrified Hebat cowering in her bunk.

"Carry on," Eligor said. "And be discreet. Because if Zepar catches wind of what you're trying to do, not only will he shoot
you
out the airlock, but every man you have tempted with one of Lucifer's wives."

He walked through the door and was gone, leaving Ninsianna with nothing but unanswered questions.

~ * ~ * ~

Late-January: 3,389 BC

Earth: Mesopotamian Plain

Gita

Gita glanced over her shoulder at the darkening sky which settled east over Assur. To the people of the river, the western desert was a wasteland, a place where none dared travel except for bandits, mercenaries, and the tent-dwelling Halifians who they considered to be a little bit of both. To Gita, however, the desert was the obstacle between her miserable life now and the sheltered existence she had enjoyed as a little girl. How many times had she traveled out here to this land of the setting sun, as far as her waterskin and meager rations would allow, trying to get back to the paradise of the Temple? Only now that an opportunity had presented itself to shepherd her across, every step she took away from Assur made her feel as though she carved out a piece of her own heart.

"How much further?" Gita asked Dadbeh.

The wiry young man turned back to look at her. It was almost nightfall, and the setting sun had turned everything a pleasing shade of pink, accentuating his enormous ears and giving his long, slender face and mismatched eyes the appearance of a clever jackal. They had walked together two days, two nights, and another day, careful to make sure that no one had followed them.

"By my estimate, we should be there by dusk," Dadbeh said. His eyes narrowed with concern. "Do you need to rest? You look deathly pale."

Gita gave him a weak, forced smile. "As you said, a girl would do almost
anything
to catch a glimpse of Mikhail's legendary sky canoe."

"Jamin told me your father made you
walk
to Assur when you first came to live with us," Dadbeh said.

"He did," Gita said. "After my mother was killed

She did not care to tell him how many times her father had beaten her and how often Merariy had told her that if she didn't keep up, he would simply abandon her in the desert to die. Having watched her father bash her mother's skull in with a rock, she'd been too terrified to even cry. Towards the end they had run out of food, water, and even trade goods with which to resettle, causing them to be turned away from every tribe her father tried to ingratiate himself into. The last thing she remembered was falling down into a ravine, and when she had awoken, a black-eyed boy had been sitting next to her, his eyes red-rimmed from crying because
he
had just lost his mother, too.

Oh, Jamin!

How she hated him…

Oh, how she missed him!

Why, oh why, had he taken such an instant hatred to Mikhail?

She glanced up at the horizon and, just for just a moment, she thought she saw Shahla standing there, holding her decrepit rag doll. She stumbled on a rock and almost fell. Dadbeh grabbed her elbow and steadied her.

"I'm okay," Gita said. Pain forced her to clutch her chest which still oozed puss from beneath her bandages.

"I should have listened to Menwi," Dadbeh spoke of the old Kemet woman. "She said whatever magic you are using to heal your wound, you need more time or you risk the infection returning."

Gita glanced back at the pretty sunset, but the ghost of her childhood friend had disappeared. Perhaps Shahla had appeared to guide her? No! Gita did not want to go into the west! To the west, her mother was dead. To the north were lands were allied with the Ubaid who would turn her right back over to Immanu to be killed. To the south lay Uruk lands, the raiders who had stolen the Kemet's camels. There were no good choices. Only the lesser of bad ones.

She looked back at the darkening sky which roiled the east with ominous looking clouds.
That
was the direction her heart cried out to go even as her common sense told her it would be suicide. Each step she took away from Mikhail felt as though she tore out a piece of her own heart…

Gita hung her head. Mikhail had never been hers to love. Her only future was to cross the desert with the Kemet.

"We could just stop for a
little
while," Dadbeh said softly.

"We don't have time." Gita stared at the way the sunset made the western landscape look as though a potter had painted it with a rich, pleasant ochre, a welcoming color, an invitation to the west. "The longer we wait to ambush the Uruk, the more likely they will sell the Kemet's camels."

The Kemet's dilemma offered them a chance to ingratiate themselves to the traders and journey with them into new lands until they could find a village willing to welcome strangers. They trudged in silence, the only sound the ever-present wind, the steady gurgle of the stream which only ran with water during the rainy season, and the clink of their feet dislodging stones from the inhospitable soil. At last the silence grew too much for the garrulous Dadbeh to bear.

"Is that why we've so often seen you coming back in from the wastelands?" Dadbeh asked. "Because you hoped to find your way home?"

Gita could not meet his gaze. She
knew
what rumors the warriors had circulated amongst themselves; that she went out to meet with an unknown lover; that she was so ugly that no man would ever want her so she went out there to lay down with the hyenas; that she was a
lilu
who haunted the night and turned into a bat.

"That's as far as I got each time I tried to run away," Gita said softly.

Thus far the stream had cut deeply into the desert, but as it turned a corner, the plain around it hollowed out into a long, flat area that sloped gently towards an oasis. In this low place where the moisture pooled just beneath the soil, the land was green and full of sage bushes, anastatica flowers, and here and there the occasional acacia tree.

"We're here," Dadbeh said.

Gita scanned the bowl-shaped concavity. An object the size of a house pressed up against the rocky edifice where the land climbed back up unto the desert plain above. Even partially buried, the sky canoe reminded her of the great silver ark depicted in the cave paintings beneath the temple at Jebel Mar Elyas; magnificent, shiny, and reminiscent of the sun.

"That's it?" Gita whispered.

"It wasn't buried quite so much when it first fell from the heavens," Dadbeh said. "He must have worked all summer burying it in the rocks to camouflage it."

They climbed down the hill, each helping the other through the prickly sagebrush and the wild roses which, this time of year, were in full bloom from the rain. The entire oasis felt as though they had just stepped into another world, a sheltered paradise carved by the goddess’ own hand to ease her Champion into their meagre human world.

"Did he also cover it in those vines?" Gita asked. She pointed to lush, green leaves unlike anything she had ever seen.

"That was Ninsianna's doing, I suspect," Dadbeh said. "She must have used her magic to whisper to the plants to grow."

A pang of guilt ate at Gita's gut at the mere mention of her cousin's name. Because Ninsianna had not been there to attend to Mikhail, in her own mind she'd begun to convince herself that her cousin didn't really care about her husband. Ninsianna's jealous rages, the curt words they'd all overheard, the way they'd witnessed Ninsianna push her husband away. These plants, however? These plants spoke of a different story. That Ninsianna was gifted, was
Chosen,
was worthy of Mikhail's love while she, Gita, was a nothing.
Unchosen.
A girl with no gifts and even fewer talents.

She looked to the west, a barren land, the obstacle which had always stood between her and the life she'd had before. It was better that she run away…

They both grew silent as they approached the sky canoe, neither one wishing to violate the sacredness of this place. As she had dreamed that night the unknown goddess had told her to sing, Mikhail's sky canoe was larger than the temple of She-who-is. Gita reached through the painstakingly piled rocks to touch the sleek, smooth surface which reflected the magnificent pomegranate light of the setting sun. It felt cool to the touch, not hot as she had imagined it to be in her dream.

"How does it work?" Gita asked.

Dadbeh shrugged. "I have no idea. It was still smoldering from its descent the day we followed Jamin here. If it hadn't been, we never would have found it."

"It's beautiful," Gita whispered, afraid to speak any louder in case doing so would be an affront to the gods. Tears sprung to her eyes. What a silly girl she was, to dream that such a creature would ever fall in love with
her
!

Dadbeh beckoned to her like an excited little boy.

"The entrance is over here," Dadbeh said. "Mikhail rolled these boulders in front of it, but you are slender. Perhaps you might be able to slither in?"

Gita stared doubtfully at the narrow crack which disappeared beneath the enormous rocks.

"I will give it a try," she frowned. She poked her arm into the hole. The movement of air tickled the soft, dark hairs and made them stand on end.

"Do you think you can fit?" Dadbeh asked.

"There is only one way to find out," Gita said. She flattened out on her belly and wriggled into the hole, praying the pile wouldn't come crashing down upon her head. The boulders gripped at her and threatened to bury her alive, but then suddenly she was free, the crack grew larger and she was able to slither out onto a flat floor like a serpent into its lair.

"Are you in?" Dadbeh called.

Gita spat out the rock-dust and brushed the dirt off of her face and cloak. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but the setting sun shone through a large crack ran from the rock-laden entrance all the way up into the ceiling.

Tears welled in her eyes. Even in the dim light, his sky canoe was exactly as she had seen inside of her dreams.

"It should have been
me
out here in the desert that day," Gita whispered to the empty room. "If my father hadn't caught me and locked me in the grain cellar, it would have been
me
you met first and not my cousin Ninsianna."

Gita began to sob.

"Is everything okay in there?" Dadbeh called through the hole in the rocks.

"Y-yes," Gita sniffled. She wiped her eyes and rubbed her nose upon her borrowed cloak. They had work to do. It was up to her to salvage weapons and implements to help them survive the raid to come.

"What do you see?" Dadbeh called. His voice was muffled by the rocks and had a funny, distorted sound.

"Only the outline of things," Gita said. "It's getting dark soon and there is very little light."

"Mikhail borrowed some tallow lanterns a few days before he went away to the Regional Gathering of Chiefs," Dadbeh called through the hole. "My mother was quite unhappy he got himself stabbed and never returned any of them. Are they in there?"

Gita fumbled around the nearly dark room. At last she found a table built into the wall and spied the outlines of a small clay lantern. From the familiar stench, there was still tallow inside of it.

"Do you have a firestone and striker with you?" Gita called through the hole.

"Hold on a moment," Dadbeh called. A moment later, he called again. "Here. I'm passing it through."