Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (22 page)

Gita looked uncomfortable at this false display of affection, but she played her part, just the way Pareesa hoped she would.

"I am unharmed, mother,” Gita perpetuated the lie. "Shahla stole my cape while I bathed in the river, but I am safe now. Please attend to my husband."

Needa clamped her hand over her mouth and turned away, her body shuddering as she forced herself not to give voice to the ululating wail the Ubaid used to acknowledge a death. Immanu glowered at Gita, his tawny-beige eyes accusatory as he placed his arm around his wife and whispered that Ninsianna had not yet entered the dreamtime. It was a small hope, but so long as there was hope, Pareesa would not let Mikhail die.

"Ninsianna,
ní féidir liom a bhraitheann tú,"
Mikhail reached towards Gita. His wings trembled as he groped blindly towards the nearest body. It was one thing to whisper lies in the dark, another to perpetuate a ruse in a well-lit room. "Ninsianna?" His voice had the edge of desperation.

'Go on,'
Pareesa silently gestured at Gita.
'Get in there.'

Gita arranged the red cape so the lanterns would not shine directly into her face. As she stepped forward to take his hand, for a moment she had even Pareesa fooled. The question was, would she be able to trick Ninsianna's husband?

"I am here,
mo ghrá
," Gita said. "I am still alive. Pareesa killed the men who tried to kidnap me."

Needa drew back the red-soaked cloth they'd used to staunch his blood. Pareesa clamped her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. With each breath blood seeped around the knife as his muscular chest shuddered in pain. The blade had struck him in the one place his ribs did not protect him, the place where debris from his broken sky canoe had shattered his rib cage.

“Can you save him?” Pareesa's voice trembled.

“He is scarred in this place where Ninsianna healed him once before.” Needa prodded at his chest, ignoring his whimper of pain. "But this knife is far smaller than an Ubaid hunting blade. It cut perilously close to his heart, but no blood has been exhaled with his breath."

"So he'll be okay?" Hope warmed in Pareesa's chest.

Needa examined the blood which seeped around the edges of the blade. "I cannot tell if this hit the large vessel which carries blood into the heart. If it did, the moment we pull it out he will bleed to death. If it did not, perhaps there is some hope? We need to work quickly."

Gita sobbed. Mikhail felt towards her, blindly reaching until his hand slid up to touch her face.

"Má éiríonn liom, ní mór duit smaoineamh ar ár bpáiste. Ná fág an réimse go dtí deireadh de do shaol nádúrtha. Beidh mé ag fanacht ar do shon, mo ghrá. Díreach ach ar an taobh eile."

Oh, drat! Ninsianna had the gift of tongues! How was Gita supposed to fool Mikhail when Ninsianna usually conversed with her husband in his native language?

The tears which slipped down Gita's cheeks were real. She answered him in Ubaid as if she'd understood.

"How will I live without you,
mo ghrá
?" Gita wept. "You are the last spark of hope I have left in this sorry life."

Even though it was a lie, Gita's answer carried the ring of truth. With a sigh, Mikhail lay back and allowed Needa to resume her examination.

“Homa,” Needa spoke with grim determination, “get my surgical implements. Pareesa … get two warriors in here to hold him down so he cannot thrash about. Immanu … I sense there is something wrong with this blade that goes beyond his injuries. I wouldn't put it past the Halifians to have dipped the blade in excrement."

"I shall sing the songs to chase away the evil spirits,” Immanu said.

While the shaman began a deep, chanting song that reminded Pareesa of a bullfrog, Siamek and Ipquidad pinned Mikhail's shoulders to the table while Needa washed her hands. Needa opened a case made of the material Mikhail called 'metal' and pulled out a slender, silver needle far more finely wrought than any crafted by the Ubaid. Next came a small, rounded spool wrapped with a continuous length of thread that resembled horsehair and the tiny, clever implement for cutting it called 'scissors.' These objects were sacred, a gift Mikhail had made to his mother-in-law as part of the dowry he'd offered for Ninsianna. They were Needa's most cherished objects.

“Pareesa, are you ready?” Needa asked. “Homa?” The look she gave Pareesa was one of fear. "One … two … three!"

Needa yanked the knife out of his heart.

“Ninsianna!” Mikhail knocked the men holding him down across the room. Feathers flew as he thrashed in pain.
“Siad a bheith déanta agat!"

Pareesa rushed forward and took his hand.

“Sensei," Pareesa shook him. "You must hold still! You don't want to leave Ninsianna a widow, do you?"

She squeezed his hand as hard as she could, so hard that he could feel her through his pain. The fog of blood loss cleared as his unearthly blue eyes locked with hers. This was him, her teacher, the champion who was supposed to lead them. His sharp eagle's gaze scrutinized her, glancing around the room as clarity cut through his fog.

"Do you trust me?" Pareesa asked. "Do you trust me to save your life?"

His chiseled features softened. It was not the brave teacher who stared at her now, but a frightened man who was afraid to die.

"Ninsianna…."

"Is fine," Pareesa lied. "Do you trust me to help you bear this pain?"

Mikhail nodded.

"Then try not to throw me across the room this time," Pareesa said. "You hurt Ninsianna. Do you want her to stand back while Needa stitches you up … just in case?"

Not since the night the Dark Lord had left him to grieve a death he could not remember had Pareesa seen the big Angelic cry. Tears welled in his eyes.

"If anything happens to me," Mikhail whispered, "promise me you will look after her? Promise me you will watch over my wife and child?"

"You have my word," Pareesa swore.

Needa pressed urgently at the chest wound which no longer had a plug shoved into it to staunch his bleeding. His moment of clarity passed. Mikhail's unearthly blue eyes became unfocused, unclear as pain fogged his senses. He crushed her hand each time Needa reached inside his chest to stitch things up that made Pareesa want to retch. His face twisted up with pain, but he forced himself not to lash out until, at last, merciful unconsciousness took him.

"Is he…?" Pareesa touched his cold, clammy skin.

Needa snipped the thread which held his flesh together with her sacred silver scissors.

"There is not as much blood as I feared," Needa said. "Either the knife missed the large vessel which carries blood out of the heart, or he lost so much blood that there is little left to bleed. Only time will tell."

"I think he's gone into the death-cold," Alalah said. "Gisou! Get me some blankets!" Alalah was an older woman who'd garnered much useful experience stitching up the mishaps of her eight adventurous children. Mikhail had finally convinced Needa to break with the ancient tradition of one village, one healer to train a lower tier of healers he called 'medics.'

"We've got more injured," Siamek reminded them. "Ebad's not doing so well. And several others are badly wounded."

"Where?" Pareesa asked. Her heart beat too rapidly, remembering the look on Ebad's face as he had urged her to attend to Mikhail. How could she have forgotten him?

"We carried the wounded to their families," Siamek said. "We thought it best if they were cared for in their own homes."

"Alalah will tend to them," Immanu snapped. With a look that communicated he would not follow any more orders from
her
tonight, snot-nosed thirteen-summer upstart that she was, he wrapped his arms around his wife and guided her outside where Needa gave voice to an ululating cry of grief for her missing daughter.

"Let's carry him upstairs," Alalah said. She placed an affectionate hand upon the unconscious Angelic's wing. "With all of this commotion, he shall get no rest down here. Perhaps it would be better if his…" she glanced at where Gita lurked in the shadows, "wife … tended to him in a less well-lit room?"

Pareesa was grateful for Alalah's firm grasp of the situation. With somber effort, the warriors hauled the unconscious Angelic up the stairs and tucked him into his too-small sleeping pallet.

Gita stood with her back pressed against the wall, tears streaming from her too-large eyes. She had the fearful appearance of a small, nocturnal animal, the kind which darted from shadow to shadow because every creature on the food chain considered her to be its prey. She bore no resemblance to Ninsianna now, this pale, scrawny girl with the black eyes and tattered look of a beggar.

"Immanu said…" Gita swallowed. "He said he'd…" She glanced down at her hands. Pareesa had heard what Immanu had threatened her with. "Maybe it would be better if Homa or Gisou tended to him?" she whispered. "I am not a healer."

That buzz from the old god warned her she must not let that happen.

"He needs you," Pareesa grabbed Gita's hand. "Please? You're the only person he's ever mistaken for Ninsianna."

Gita nodded. With whispered words only audible to herself, she pulled the red cape up to cover her hair and kneeled beside the sleeping pallet where Mikhail lay somewhere between the world of the living and the dead. Just for a moment, it appeared even to Pareesa, who knew this all to be a ruse, as though Gita's sparse frame fleshed out and the girl moved with the quiet assurance of the highest-ranking female in the village instead of the lowest one.

"Can you feel me?" Gita whispered. "Can you feel me, Mikhail?"

Mikhail moved to take her hand.

Pareesa left them to be overseen by Homa while she followed Alalah to poor, forgotten Ebad's house. His parents greeted them with a cry of gratitude and led them up to his room where his oldest sister sat on the edge of his bed pressing a cloth against his shoulder to stem the bleeding.

"I kept pressure on it just the way you said," the sister said.

"I'll take over," Pareesa said. "It's the least I can do for him."

Ebad's sister nodded. She showed Pareesa where to place her hands, the places where his shoulder bled the worst from the spear she had torn out of it. Ebad opened his eyes.

“Pareesa,” Ebad greeted. His shaky hand reached up to touch hers. "You're okay?"

“Yes,” she pressed against his wound. “How's my favorite spear-target?”

"Been better," Ebad smiled weakly at her joke. “How’s Mikhail?”

“Alive,” she said, “for now. Needa got the knife out and stitched him up. Gita's taking care of him while we attend to everybody else.”

“Will he make it?” Ebad asked. “He looked … bad...”

“Only She-who-is knows,” Pareesa said. “Needa thinks he'll survive the knife wound, but the Cherubim god fears he might try to follow Ninsianna into the dreamtime.”

Ebad smiled weakly. “I've never seen anyone fight the way you fought tonight. Not even Mikhail has ever fought that ferociously. When I looked into your eyes, it was as if someone else stared out at me.”

“Someone else did,” Pareesa said. “It was like watching somebody else do battle using my body as a puppet.”

“Well it was
your
body he used,” Ebad said. “When I saw that spear come at you, I just … I just...”

Ebad's voice choked up at the memory.

Pareesa's reaction was instinctive. She slipped her fingers beneath his head and pulled him towards her for a kiss. Ebad moaned, both in pain and pleasure, as he used both hands to pull her closer.

“Hey!” Alalah snapped, “Pareesa … keep pressure on that wound!!!”

Pareesa pulled away, turning bright red as she grabbed the cloth and re-applied pressure to Ebad's shoulder. She had kissed boys before, in jest or on a dare, but this was the first time she had ever really meant it.

“Sorry,” she whispered to him.

“I'll take a spear any day for a kiss like that,” Ebad said shyly.

He whimpered as Alalah stitched his shoulder back together until finally he passed out from the pain. Gisou prepared a hot compress of boiled linen cloth, herbs, and oil of myrrh to chase away the evil spirits while Ebad's sister dribbled water down his throat every time he came close enough to consciousness that they could coax him to swallow.

"He's doing better now that you're here," Ebad's mother touched Pareesa's shoulder. "Please … won't you stay? His younger brother has offered to give up his bed."

"I should get back…" Pareesa started to say.

She hadn't realized how much the God of War had been propping her up until all of a sudden he abandoned her body and left her standing there, weak and mortal. She collapsed forward and nearly landed face-down in Ebad's lap.

"I guess maybe I'm supposed to stay?" Pareesa mumbled. Exhausted limbs refused to move. "S-somebody tell my mother I'm sf-okay?" A stray thought flit through her mind. Was this what Mikhail felt like whenever he needed to sleep off the killing dance after a battle?

Strong arms lifted her up while somebody else dragged a second sleeping pallet across the room. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find the energy to force her eyelids open. Ebad's little brothers and sisters piled around them like puppies to loan them their warmth so their big, brave brother wouldn't go into the death-cold.