Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (15 page)

Qishtea's eyes flashed with fury. "You can't expect us to take orders from a girl!"

"If you'd like us to go home," Ipquidad spoke evenly, "we'll abandon Nineveh to face men purchased with
these."
He pulled out a golden disc and flashed it in the light of the glowing campfire. Depicted on the coin was the bat-winged serpent Mikhail called a dragon.

"We're not afraid of this so-called Shay'tan!" Qishtea laughed. Around them the other Ninevian warriors cackled like a bunch of nervous hyenas.

A flutter of wings drew Gita's attention. A bird, no, a bat, flew into the encampment, attracted to the mosquitoes which plagued
all
who reeked of sweat in the lengthening dusk. Qishtea's lips curved into a cruel sneer.

"
This
is what we'll do to this so-called dragon." With a lifetime of skill honed hunting antelope and larger prey, Qishtea ripped the spear out of Gita's hand and used it to club the bat out of the air. He shoved a wide finger into Gita's face. "You're next!"

Gita forced herself to stand firm, picturing what she might look like if only she was as brave as Pareesa. Tall … erect … chin raised … fearless. That was who she wished to be. Pareesa … or maybe Mikhail?

"No," Gita met Qishtea's gaze.
"You
are next. An army is only as strong as its weakest link. With enemies bought with lizard-gold, you need every link you can get."

Qishtea ripped the gold coin out of Ipquidad's hand. "Made-up creatures!" He turned to face the other warriors. "Who here has ever seen a lizard demon?"

"Not me!" the other Ninevian warriors laughed.

Qishtea leaned into Gita's face.

"Why don't you go back to your drunken father," Qishtea hissed so close his breath made Gita want to gag. He reached out to touch her hair. His lips curved up in a suggestive smirk. "Unless you'd like to have a little fun? Now
that's
a useful job for a woman!"

Gita slapped away his hand. "Go to hell!"

Qishtea grabbed her bicep. "That's what your mother was! A temple prostitute."

Gita gasped.
"How…"

"Shahla couldn't resist bragging about her best friend's colorful history the last time I
fucked
her," Qishtea sneered. "Your own father turned her over to the Amorites to be stoned to death for being an adulteress!"

Gita yanked away her arm. She rushed into the lengthening shadows and dropped to her knees behind a rock, sobbing. Why? Why had Shahla betrayed her secret? Sobs wracked her thin frame until her anger gave way to sensibility. Shahla. Oh! Poor Shahla! Shame on
herself
for telling Shahla when she knew the girl lacked discretion whenever it came to pillow talk whispered in the arms of a man. What was Shahla doing now, her poor, broken-minded friend?

Something warm squished beneath her hand. Oh, great! Now she'd crawled into a pile of excrement! She went to scrape her hand against a rock and realized there was nothing stuck to it. Feeling the shadows in the dim twilight, something warm and furry met her fingertips. She lifted it to where she could see it. It was the bat.

"Poor thing," Gita stroked its leathery wings. "I'm sorry. They didn't understand you are a
good
omen."

That dark gift, the one which could
see
not only where a creature was weak, whispered this creature was still alive
.
She clutched it to her chest and hummed the song the priestesses had sung at Jebel Mar Elyas. As she sang, that dark gift, that ability to
see
another creature's spirit light, showed her where the bat's light grew stronger, until at last the danger had passed.

The scent of food, cooked meat and bread, wafted her way as the Ninevians broke into the food she'd spent half the evening preparing. Gita's stomach growled, but she refused to crawl back into their midst and beg. Let them eat it without her! It wasn't the
first
time she'd go hungry!

A muttered curse brought her attention away from the tiny creature. An enormous shadow lumbered towards her, hand outstretched, and from a bowl wafted the delicious scent of fresh, hot lentils seasoned with wild onion and a hint of sage.

"Ipquidad," Gita said. She rubbed her face against her shoulder so he wouldn't see her tears.

Ipquidad lowered his sizeable frame to the ground and shoved the bowl towards her. "Here. You need this more than I do."

Gita gave him a weak smile. Her tears glistened in the light of the campfire and betrayed the fact she was an emotional woman. No wonder the Ninevians wanted nothing to do with her!

"
You
should eat it," Gita said. "I'll survive."

"He should not have said that about your mother," Ipquidad said.

Gita lay the bat down upon her lap and grabbed the bowl, devouring it like a hungry dog. A lifetime of flirting with starvation had taught her to accept food whenever offered, no matter how diminished her pride. They sat in her gut like mud, but unlike the usual cast-off fare, the lentils weren't rancid, rotted, burned or filled with insects or mold. It was a healthy meal, one which wouldn't force her to sit doubled over in pain as she coaxed her body to digest the evil spirits.

"You're not the only one who gets picked on, you know." Ipquidad's large, round face caught stray light from the campfire, reflecting that his eyes, too, glistened a little too bright.

"I know," Gita said. "In Assur, they respect the B-team because you held the gate to the north, while I threw the first spear to the south, but to these jackals? All they ever care about is hunting."

"I hate it here," Ipquidad grumbled.

She drew her tattered cape closer around her shoulders. This time of year the desert grew cold. The rainy season brought rain, but also cold, a force of nature her emaciated body was not well-equipped to handle. A flutter in her lap caught her attention.

"Watch out!" Ipquidad said. He swatted at the fluttering bat.

Gita caught his hand. "It's okay."

"You've got a … thing … attacking you," Ipquidad said.

"It's just the bat Qishtea tried to kill," Gita said. "It won't hurt me."

"You should finish it off," Ipquidad shuddered. "Bats are evil."

Gita picked up the tiny, terrified creature, careful to avoid its teeth which tried to bite her hand. She tucked its warm, leathery wings against its body and held it until it gave up fighting.

"It only came to eat the insects that would otherwise eat
us,
" Gita said. "Bat's aren't evil. Only misunderstood."

Ipquidad's expression was doubtful in the darkening twilight. "You're going to get bitten."

"Then I'll get bitten," Gita shrugged. "And then I shall heal."

Ipquidad turned to face the ungrateful group of warriors. Ever since the attack on Assur, there had been seriousness about him, as if he'd resolved, as
she
had, that he no longer wished to be a victim. Only
action
earned people's respect. It was a lesson they'd both learned from Mikhail.

"I should get back to them," Ipquidad said.

Gita forced herself to give a fake smile. "They seem less hostile to
you
than me.
Somebody
needs to teach the idiots to stand together as an army."

She flattened her palms so the bat sat like an offering to the last ray of sun which had already retreated behind the horizon. The bat fluttered its wings, not sure if she would let it go, and then took off, flying
away
from the campfire where the ungrateful Ninevians stood swatting at mosquitoes. Ipquidad lumbered back to resume his seat at the outer fringe, a large, silent wall who would sit there so long that eventually the Ninevians wouldn't be able to imagine
not
having him there.

Gita stared up at the moonless sky. Not even the evening star glistened tonight to brighten her focus on something besides her own, persistent misery. The Ninevians and other warriors surrounding the chief's tents grew louder the more mead they consumed. She'd done her best, but here, as in Assur, there was no place for a motherless daughter.

A click-click-click and flutter of wings drew her attention skyward. The little bat circled above her, devouring the mosquitoes which had come to devour
her.
It was a small omen, the bat's protection, but she would take it. To do otherwise would cause her to drown in her own despair.

She began to hum the song her mother had taught her to chase away her woes. Once upon a time it had been a happy song, with joyous warbling high notes like the trills of a happy little song thrush, but whenever
she
sang it, it was always tainted with sadness. She closed her eyes and imagined she was back at the temple with her mother, still alive. It was a bright, happy memory, the only one Gita still possessed.

A commotion shook her out of her self-made bubble. Mikhail emerged from the tent, his wings flared as though he was a frightened sparrow about to dart into the air. Gita's heart leaped to see him before she reminded herself her foolish affection for her cousin's husband would only get her banished from her brand-new induction into the B-Team.

Mikhail rushed over to where Pareesa sat fletching arrows next to Ebad and some warriors from Eshnunna. Gita couldn't hear what was said, but Immanu rushed out of the tent and pointed directly at her. Gita glanced over her shoulder. No. Not at
her.
At something that lay behind her. Mikhail took to the air, disappearing into the darkness with pounding wings, leaving large, dark feathers falling from the sky like raindrops.

Chaos erupted as the B-team rallied around Pareesa. Chief Kiyan ran out and shouted orders. Pareesa grabbed her bow and took off into the darkness in the same direction Mikhail had gone.

Ebad rushed up to them, the B-Team's second in command.

"What happened?" Gita asked.

"Ninsianna's been kidnapped," Ebad said. "Chief Kiyan thinks it's a trap. Grab your spear and see if you can't convince the Ninevians to join us. We've got to help him before he gets himself killed." Before she could answer, Ebad had already run over to the next group of warriors, trusting her and Ipquidad to get the job done.

Only Gita knew, she and Pareesa, how uniquely vulnerable the big Angelic was when it came to all matters involving his wife.

"We've got to go," Gita tugged on Qishtea's arm. "Please! Come with us. Mikhail is being lured into an ambush."

Qishtea twirled his beard as though thinking the matter over.

"What do we care?" Qishtea said. "The only reason the lizard-demons hire men to come at us is because they can't figure out which Ubaid village harbors
him
."

This time Gita
did
kick him. Right … in … the … manhood.

Qishtea doubled over. He hissed out between his teeth, hatred in his eyes as he tried to straighten up and pain wouldn't allow him the dignity, "I will kill you for this, boy-girl."

"First you have to
catch
me!" Gita said. She thwacked him in the backside with the butt-end of her spear. "I will be fighting alongside Mikhail. If you want me, come and get me."

Yes. The dark vision was always right. She pushed his chest, just as he'd pushed
hers,
and shoved him backwards so that this time it was
he
who lay upon the ground, blinking in surprise.

"Here," Ipquidad handed Gita her spear. He turned to the Ninevians. "I'm following the girls into battle. If that scares you, stay here and cower behind your chief's kilt. Our
women
will protect you from the devil!"

Without waiting for an answer, Ipquidad turned and followed Gita into the darkness.

~ * ~ * ~

Galactic Standard Date:  152,323.11 AE

Sata'anic Empire: Hades-6