Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (88 page)

A pang of guilt gripped Eligor in the gut. He'd killed many men, but unlike Furcas and Pruflas, every life he'd taken he remembered. The look in their eyes. The way the light had gone out of them as their life-blood had flowed out of their body. Sure, the first few times, when he'd been young and angry, he'd relished killing the people he blamed for his troubles. But then something had changed. He'd killed a man who'd cried out for his mother as he'd died.

"Do you know when the lifespark is at its peak?" the old Tokoloshe asked.

"I don't know," Eligor said. "When you're a teenager?"

"At the moment it changes form," the Tokoloshe said. "The best time to feast upon your prey is as it cries out in pain, either as it is being born, or as it is about to leave this world."

"Get away from me!" Eligor hissed at him. He picked up a piece of trash and threw it at the man. "You're all fucking sick!"

"We've all had a chance to dine upon the old ones," the old Tokoloshe said. "The ones who lost in battle, the criminals, the weak ones who did not meet their tribute quotas. But a new life? One which cries out as it emerges from the womb? Or a
willing
one? Ooh! Now
that
is a feast appropriate for a god."

An odd vertigo began to spin in Eligor's ears as the hulking, ostentatious palace they'd parked in front seemed to recede and, in his mind's eye, he could almost
hear
the screams of the women Lucifer had impregnated.

"A
willing
one could keep a god satiated for many meals," the old Tokoloshe said. "Tell me, Eligor. Are
you
willing?"

How in Hades did this creature even know his name?

"Get the fuck out of here!" Eligor shouted.

He pulled his pulse rifle and aimed it at the old Tokoloshe. The creature laughed, picked up its broom and began to move away, sweeping as it went as if Eligor didn't have a weapon aimed at it. Just as it was about to disappear back into the shadows, it turned to face him once more.

"You can't even comprehend what an honor it is to bask in the presence of the one you serve," the old Tokoloshe said. He used his broom to give a mocking salute. “Oh, how I envy you.”

Before Eligor could think of a suitable expletive, the old Tokoloshe disappeared. Eligor squinted, trying to see the creature, but it was as though the street-sweeper had never been there.

He waited and waited, guarding the shuttle as he stared at the garish mausoleum King Barabas had built until he'd become convinced they'd strapped Lucifer to a feeding pole and carved chunks out of his flesh to eat him alive until they finally killed him by dining on his heart. The two big Tokoloshe guards came back, both sporting missing fur and a few bloodstains on their uniforms, to hiss insults at him until he was ready to dive into his shuttle and attempt to shoot his way off this planet. At last the outer gates to the palace opened and out strode Lucifer, with Ba’al Zebub and the Tokoloshe king trotting happily behind him like a matched pair of little yippy lap
madraí.

"Sir." Eligor forced his words to not come out as a desperate cry of
oh-thank-the-gods.

"Why so anxious?" Lucifer smiled pleasantly. He gestured to King Barabas, who practically fell over himself to hand Lucifer a trench coat which looked, for all the world, like an emperor's robe of state. "You weren't worried about me, were you?"

Eligor muttered something noncommittal under his breath. If Lucifer could read his mind? Good. Let him eavesdrop on
this!
Eligor pictured his most horrific memory of a picture some news outlet had once smuggled out of the Tokoloshe Kingdom exposing what the cannibals really did to any subject who was not able to meet King Barabas’ tribute quota.

"Why Eligor?” Lucifer purred. “The Tokoloshe are our allies."

"Whatever you say, Sir," Eligor said. He filled his brain with busy-thoughts to hide from the Prime Minister what he
really
thought of their so-called allies.

'Kept the engines idling on the shuttle just in case. Never know when I might need to save Lucifer's tail feathers and drag him out of here before the cannibals can invite -him- to dinner.'

"Come," Lucifer said. "King Barabas has prepared a celebration in my honor."

"Didn't you just come from a celebration, Sir?" Eligor asked.

The piss-yellow lights which illuminated the launch pad reflected off of Lucifer's eerie silver eyes, giving the illusion he stared into the fires of a sun.

"That was a
feast,
dear Eligor," Lucifer almost purred with contentment, a cat that had just eaten a bird. "And now, our allies will show me how glad they are that I have returned."

Lucifer smiled, showing off his perfectly straight white teeth. Just underneath the cleft in his chin where you might not notice it unless you happened to look
up
at the man was a smear of something which looked like blood. Eligor shivered. He buried the thought in the deepest recesses of his brain and focused on the list of things he needed to do on the shuttle before taking off.

"Where are we going, Sir?" Eligor asked.

"Not far," Lucifer said. "I just need you to help me descend for a stage entrance."

"As you wish, Sir," Eligor said.

Ba'al Zebub and the two goons waddled up the ramp to enter into the shuttle. Lucifer began the ascent himself, flicking a hand to signal it was time to go. Eligor fell into line behind him. As he did, he got a good look at the man's magnificent snow-white wings. Someone had taken a paintbrush and speckled his feathers with pink splotches. At the bottom, jammed in between a couple of primary feathers, was a smear of red. Eligor used the excuse of closing the hatch to get a good look at whatever had lodged in Lucifer's wings. Bright red, with an outer smear of peach, like…

Eligor's eyes met Lucifer's.

"Is something wrong, friend?"

'Check the fuel gauges again. Run a comms check. Tell Captain Marbas that Lucifer didn't get eaten so he doesn't feel compelled to bomb the fuck out of the planet. I could sure use a sandwich right now. Might need to get more fuel.'

"No, Sir," Eligor said. "It isn't okay."

Lucifer tilted his head, as though this statement was unexpected. Eligor met his gaze.

"You forgot to buckle your seat belt, Sir."

Lucifer laughed and slapped him on the back.

"Why Eligor," Lucifer said. "It's always so gratifying to have such a …
willing
… friend."

~ * ~ * ~

December, 3,390 BC

Earth: Village of Assur

Gita

Gita flung her
old brown cape around her shoulders, a childhood fancy that Shahla had cast off once it had become too threadbare. It had grown even
more
decrepit since then, torn and mended countless times until even the patched spots had needed reinforcing, but it was hers. It was practical, it kept her warm, and more importantly, it had served her well each time she'd needed to fade into the darkness. She did not fade into the dark now. She did not wish to put back on the red cape she had hidden behind for weeks. For the first time in her life, Gita wanted to be
seen.

Siamek sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“You know what Immanu ordered me to do?” Siamek asked.

Gita eyed the club he held in his hand. It was a simple war-club, little more than a rock fastened to the end of a stick, the kind of club used for clubbing an animal unconscious prior to slaughter so you could slit its throat without the inconvenience of watching it squirm.

“Yes," Gita said.

Siamek fell silent, his dark eyes glittering with tears.

"Why didn't you run away?" Siamek said. "Firouz gave you countless chances!"

"Because I promised Mikhail I would not abandon him," Gita said softly. "And I will not break my word."

Siamek's hand trembled, causing the war club to rattle against the floor. It made an odd, drumming sound, not ominous the way a death-instrument should be.

“It’s barbaric,” Siamek said, “the ancient ways. I had thought the Chief would put a stop to it. He wouldn’t let them do it to his own son.”

"Immanu is desperate to have my life
tonight
," Gita said, "because it is said, at the Narduğan fire, the gods will accept the sacrifice of one human life in exchange for another.”

"I was at the vote," Siamek said. "Not one person stepped forward to testify on your behalf. Not even your own father."

“I am nobody’s child,” Gita sighed. “If you must smite me, do it as he finishes taking his last breath, and hit me hard, so I do not wake up as I am being burned alive."

Siamek's sorrow twisted into an expression of anger.

"You are
not
the one he wishes to see!"

"I know," Gita said. "But if I am going to die anyways, I would rather make the journey with
him
."

She bowed her head and pushed aside her raven black hair to lay bare her neck, the most optimal place for an executioner to make her death a merciful one. She bent forward to kiss Mikhail's cold, blue lips.

“Goodbye, my love. I will join you in the next world.”

She waited for the blow, but it never came. Instead, they both stood listening to the hollow shell of the man who had once been their hero attempt to breathe. Shuddering breath in. Hold. Rattled exhalation out. A long, long pause. Was he gone now? Was this the last breath? Quick! Kill me now! For I do not wish to be left behind to grieve!

But then Mikhail breathed again. And another breath after that. And another. And another. And another. Siamek stood behind her, club raised, waiting to give her the quick end she pleaded for, but it was not Ninsianna he breathed for now, but for
her
.

Siamek’s arm began to falter. He rested the club against the ground. At last his legs grew weary and he moved back to lean against his customary guard spot by the door. Out. In. Out. In. Mikhail breathed, because he wanted to protect
her.

“Pareesa said I should look into my heart,” Siamek finally said. “And ask what Mikhail would do. What would Mikhail do to bring justice to the woman accused of orchestrating his murder?”

“In your heart, you know I want to be with
him
," Gita said softly, "It is no cruelty to kill me. Only to cast my body upon the bonfire to burn alive to make scapegoat for Immanu's anger."

“Mikhail is not yours to love,” Siamek said.

Gita stared out the window where the curtain had been removed so he could ascend back into the heavens as soon as he took his last breath.

“What if a man crossed the stars,” Gita’s eyes glistened. “What if a man crossed the stars, searching for the woman he had lost? What if that man spent countless lifetimes searching for her, only to have her snatched away from him again and again and again? What if that man, in a moment of weakness, mistook another to be the woman he searched for and took that woman to be his wife, instead? A good woman. A noble woman. But not the woman he’d been searching for. What if, all along, the woman he had searched for sat right beneath his nose, waiting for him to open his eyes and see her?”

“You are not Ninsianna,” Siamek said. His face hardened. “Nor are you a maiden.”

“No,” Gita said. She clutched her old, brown cloak tighter around herself, trying to fend off the chill. “But sometimes, you don’t
know
those things because you can’t remember who you are until you have made a mistake.”

“Is that what happened with
me?
” Siamek asked. His voice warbled as he spoke. “You saw me, and then you spurned me?”

“I did not spurn you,” Gita said. She met his gaze. “I cared for you very deeply. But I recognized you could never love me the way I needed to be loved. I was just a joke to you, another conquest for you brag about to the warriors, and in the end you know you would have left me.”