Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (9 page)

So many enemies… 

Pareesa gulped. Her men were not too distant behind her, but it a battle situation, every breath was a moment in which your heart could be silenced forever. She had not given one iota of thought to her own well-being when she'd thrown herself through the hoard to save her mentor, but for the first time, hopelessness began to steal her courage. What it would be like to die?

Blue light filled her vision and great hall opened up into the world beyond. If she fell, the Cherubim god reassured her, it would be a good death. A proud death. A meaningful death. If she fell, he would take her, and Mikhail as well, to this place where heroes watched over the lives of mortals and whispered courage in their hour of direst need.

Death wouldn't be so awful, but she'd much rather live!

With a grunt of satisfaction, the God of War prompted her to calculate which enemy would make the most lethal opponent, who was in charge, and which would attack only after another, stronger opponent had already weakened her. It was an odd juxtaposition, to watch her body move while a hum of alien images flitted through her brain. It felt as though she watched a puppet-show. Yes. Somebody else acted out a play in which a puppet had been fashioned in her likeness, but the puppet-master had rewritten her role to be the heroine and not just the hero's mascot. Alien thoughts began to make sense as images paired with bits and pieces of the Cherubim language she had thankfully had the foresight to learn.

A warning…

She sensed a change in the shadow-pattern of thoughts from the circling enemy. Their numbers parted. A fearsome bear of a man, four cubits tall, with shoulders so broad his knuckles appeared to drag upon the ground swaggered towards her wielding a war club, a horrific instrument embedded on both sides with multiple sharp, flint spear points. Pareesa noted with morbid humor the weapon for which Mikhail had nick-named her
çok puan ile mızrak
[spear with many points] or, as he liked to call her in his native language,
arm beag ollscriosta
[little weapon of mass destruction].

She clutched the sword, determined to fight even harder as War Club Man climbed over the wall of bod
ies and stared at her as though she was a two-headed goat. The man stank like sour milk and rancid meat. A thought flitted through her mind, though she wasn't certain whether it was her thought or the God of War's. Why was it that mercenaries everywhere were never well-acquainted with water?

"
Tsuki kanojo wa - daredearu watashi wa, kono teki o utsu yō ni watashi ni chikara no tekisetsuna shiyō-ken o fuyo." The God of War taunted the enemy champion in the clicking Cherubim language.

War Club Man bared his teeth in a leering grin, exposing a gap
where once upon a time he had possessed teeth, but now, top and bottom, nothing remained but a single jagged incisor. He reminded her of a hyena.
"Yani Assurians bir adamın işi yapmak için küçük bir kız göndermek?"

With near-blinding speed he swung his w
ar-club, a crushing blow that would have shattered her skull and torn great chunks of flesh out of her body if it had landed. Pareesa raised her sword to block it, but not even Cherubim-enhanced reflexes could prevent her from being knocked backwards. With detached interest she noted the pain which vibrated into her bones.

A recent training lesson danced into her mind.

'You lack sufficient mass to fight in this manner,' Mikhail had said. 'You must first move out of the way, then strike when your enemy is trapped in the momentum of his downswing.'

War Club Man swung a second time. This time, instead of using her sword to block the blow, Pareesa stepped to her left. The man shifted forward, so close his spittle splattered onto her cheek. Ugh! He hit the bottom of his downswing and, just for a moment, left his neck exposed. With a war cry, Pareesa slammed down the sword. It hit resistance at the spinal column, then with a 'snap' continued effortlessly through the meat of the man's neck. Warm, slippery blood squirted onto her legs as War Club Man's head plopped next her feet, his eyelids blinking with surprise. Ugh! She kicked the grim specter towards the wall of bodies so she wouldn't trip on it as the next man came at her.

Cold, alien images filtered into her mind. Sacred symbols painted in the temple of She-who-is. Squares. Rectangles. Many-pointed stars with people moving along the length of them as though performing a shamanic dance. No! Not symbols. Training katas! New enemies fanned around her in the pattern she recognized from the symbols, readying to surge over the growing wall of bodies. They toyed with her, leering, unaware a larger platoon ran only moments behind her. All she had to do was keep the enemy busy.

Another lesson filtered into her mind.

‘A group of men will fear hitting one another as they come at you,' Mikhail had said. 'They will watch what the other men do before rushing in to hit you. Use this delay against them.’

The God of War counted out a staff kata as a foursome rushed at her. This movement felt familiar. Mikhail had made them practice the routine so many times the memory of it was deeply ingrained into Pareesa's muscles. Strike the man in front of you. Get the man to one side and then the other. Block. Jab backwards at the man who thinks you are not watching your back. Start over. Do it again. The weapon she wielded had changed, become more lethal, more effective, but the manner in which it was handled felt familiar.

She sensed the old god's satisfaction; this was a maneuver she could perform on her own. An image of a young Mikhail, training with the ant-like Cherubim to learn that exact same lesson at approximately the same age she was now, popped into Pareesa's mind. A sense of fondness filled her heart. A gift… 

"It's a sentiment we both share," Pareesa said as she thwacked to deflect a spear.

She heard shouts, Assurian war whoops mixed with screams of dying men. The enemy turned, distracted by the threat which now came at them from the direction from which she had come. Ohthankthegods! At last her men were here!

A thunderous roar shook the ground. Pillars of flame erupted from the shadow of three rocky outcroppings. Hot wind blew a blinding sandstorm of debris into Pareesa's face. Only the ability to see that second spirit-shadow prevented the enemy from overrunning her. Dozens of fireflies lit up surrounding each outcropping, blinking in a pattern, one side red, the other green. Pareesa feared her ears would pop from the unearthly howl.

The boulders began to rise…

She realized the
murky shapes she'd mistaken for hills were really sky canoes! Unlike Mikhail's vessel, which was broken beyond repair, these were still capable of ascending into the heavens!

Another spear flew past her, thankfully missing her.

'Shōten o ateru!
' the Cherubim god chastised her. Focus!

The enemy milled in disarray. The sandstorm grew more ferocious, pelting her with tiny pebbles and wafting thick smoke that smelled like bitumen in a campfire. She took advantage of their distraction to cut down any enemy stupid enough to gape at the sky canoes.

Two sky canoes moved in the direction the Assurians had come from, but the third moved to hover directly over her like a fat, squat vulture. A vortex of calm opened up in the center of the wall of sand, providing an unimpeded view of the underside of the ship. A single, round orb rotated around to stare down at her with its evil eye. The eye watched her. Malignant. Baleful. Waiting for the enemy to collect their bounty by severing Mikhail's head.

'The Evil One…'
the old god whispered into her brain.

Ancient rage rattled every fiber of her being, though whether it was
her
hatred, or that of the old god, Pareesa could not be certain. At this point their anger was one and the same. Another enemy rushed at her with a spear. She kicked the man in the crotch and yanked the weapon out of his hand. Using every ounce of strength her small mortal body possessed,  she took aim and heaved the shaft at that malignant, reflective, shiny orb; to blind it to the man who lay helpless at her feet. The spear flew true, straight into the Evil One's eye.

Small sharp daggers fell onto her head. Pareesa threw up her arm to protect her eyes. The Evil One's sky canoe moved off, sandblasting her with debris until it moved far enough away that its roaring yellow dust devil subsided. Along with it vacated the heavy sense of oppression she hadn't even been aware had been pressing down upon her until suddenly the source had been removed.

The enemy regrouped, ignoring the Assurians nipping at their outer edge, intent on collecting what to them appeared to be an easy bounty. Mikhail lay so close they could almost taste it, already fallen, already defeated, helpless, with nothing but a slender woman-child wielding a too-long sword standing over him to defend him. Had the enemy not learned that what they lacked in individual prowess, they made up for by always standing together?

Ebad was the first to reach her. He recoiled in fear as she pulled up short of cutting him down and he noticed the inhuman blue glow of her eyes.

“Pareesa … let me help you?" Ebad lowered his spear to show he was no threat. He had seen Mikhail fight enough times to understand she was not just Pareesa anymore, but something extra. “You defend him and I will watch your back.”

The God of War prompted her to nod acceptance even though Pareesa, herself, was less than enthusiastic it had been Ebad, and not a more capable warrior, who had been the first to fight to her side. Words of gratitude came out spoken in the Cherubim language. Ebad clutched his spear and moved to stand behind her, his back against hers. All around them the battle raged as the better-trained Assurians, outnumbered almost three to one, took on the less cohesive enemy and, little by little, began to turn the tide.

And still the enemy only cared to collect their bounty…

Explosions ignited off on the horizon, back in the direction where the Assurians had run from. The sky canoes had seen fit to rain down hellfire upon whichever chiefs had refused to answer Pareesa's call. A cheer went up through the enemy warriors who still outnumbered the Assurians. This, it seemed, had been part of their plan. Ebad moved more tightly against her back and together they fought on, stabbing, kicking, whirling, punching, whatever it took to keep the oncoming hordes off of Mikhail's body and away from his head with the knives they clutched ready to finish the job.

A screech of pain cut through Pareesa's killing incantations and resonated with an odd note of emotion and fear.

"Ebad?"

The young man crumpled into a heap behind her, a spear sticking out of his shoulder. The Cherubim god projected what had happened into her mind. Ebad had jumped in front of a spear to save her. The old god prompted her to rip it out and pierce the bastard through the heart who had injured him. Ebad screamed and curled up in a fetal position.

“Sore wa orokade yūkan'na, watashi no yūjindeshita. Arigatōgozaimasu,”
the old god spoke through her, thanking Ebad for his brave but foolish sacrifice.

Pareesa now defended tw
o fallen comrades instead of one, but ululating greetings heralded the arrival of a second, larger group of Ubaid. Allies. Sent by the regional chiefs. The Evil One's sky canoes had hit the encampment, but by the number of shouts, not many of them had been there to be killed!

Pareesa laughed. Even in ambush, Mikhail had won! For the first time in Ubaid history, disparate tribes had rallied their warriors and responded against a threat as a single army.

Now outnumbered, the remaining enemies turned tail and ran into the darkness, abandoning their dead and the bags of gold the lizard demons had no doubt promised for their service. The Ubaid let out a cheer: Assurians, Ninevians, Gassurites and other allied villages who had gathered together to discuss Mikhail's plan to pool their resources as a nation.

The victory cheers stopped as the warriors realized why Pareesa had refused to budge. First one warrior, and then another, let out an anguished sob as they realized it was not their winged leader who had held off so many enemies. Her moment of dire need finished, Pareesa thanked the old God of War who had stepped in to help her save him and asked for one last favor.

"Please, Sir? How can we keep Mikhail from dying?"

The information jumped into her mind, a series of images instead of speech. Pareesa's lip trembled as she realized the news was worse than she had feared. One last piece of information spilled forth from her lips.

'Ebad wa, anata to no ai, orokana on'nanokodesu,' her own lips chided her in the Cherubim language. 'Anata no me o hiraite, teikyō sa reru mono o ukeireru.'

The old god moved her hand and forced her to lay eyes upon the young man laying upon the ground. Shame flooded into her body, but it was not the old god's shame, but
hers
. All this time she'd already had someone who loved her as much as Mikhail loved his wife, and she had done nothing but treat him poorly. She should accept the gift Ebad offered to her, the old god chastised her, because never again would she find a man who loved her so much he would jump in front of a spear.

The old god released her, although she could sense he lurked in the periphery, feeding her strength, but otherwise reluctant to interfere. Her perception of Mikhail's sword grew weightier in her hand. It felt unfamiliar, clumsy, heavy, as though her prowess with it only moments earlier had been nothing but a dream. She had a long way to train before she could wield such a weapon on her own the way that Mikhail did.