Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (56 page)

"Shay'tan protect
us," both of his crewman whispered together, gesticulating to their
foreheads, their lips in their hearts in an invocation to their emperor and
god.

“Let’s get the Haven
out of here…” Apausha shoved his men down the hall before Zepar realized they
knew what was going on.  He would speak to Ba'al Zebub about his reservations. 
The Sata’an were a lot of things, but this struck him as just … plain … evil.

~ * ~ * ~
* ~ * ~

July - 3,390 BC

Earth:  Village of Assur

Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili

Mikhail

Mikhail looked at the
eight volunteers, plus Immanu and Ninsianna, who had answered the Chief’s call
for archers.  Seven were female, eight if you included Ninsianna.  The last was
an elderly man in his sixties. 

He'd asked them to
meet at the edge of the rapidly dwindling river so the late afternoon heat
wouldn't be a deterrent, but now he wished he'd chosen a field closer to the
village in the hopes of enticing a few more archers to join their ranks.  As
usual, Jamin had undermined his efforts by insinuating any warrior willing to
train alongside women lacked a manhood. 

Mikhail snorted in
disgust.  The Chief had made the request voluntary, not mandatory, and the
warriors from surrounding villages were not due to arrive for a few more days. 
Still … they were his first command.  He would train these women as best he
could.

“Ladies and
gentlemen,” Mikhail said, “we don't have the resources for a standing army. 
You'll have to train
in addition
to things you already do at home.”

A groan went through
the group, but he knew the candidates had already been apprised of this fact.

“However,” he said. 
“Many of us have the same duties every day.  We all draw water from the river
to water our crops.  We all go into our fields and rake out the weeds so our
crops don't get strangled out.  These activities, if done mindfully, can help
you build strength to draw the bow or defend yourself against an enemy.”

“That never occurred
to me,” one of the young women said.

“It has for
me,”
the old man said.  Behnam.  Mikhail recalled the man's name was Behnam.  “You
don't get to be my age and not figure out a few shortcuts.”

Mikhail pulled out one
of the crude bows he'd fashioned earlier and some hastily assembled arrows. 
The workmanship was nothing to brag about, but they would suffice until he'd a
chance to fashion some more.

“Halifian insurgents
have been raiding villages up and down the river and kidnapping young women,”
Mikhail said.  “They can get away with it because they have these.  With one of
these, a warrior can shoot at you from hundreds of paces away and never get
close enough for you to strike back.”

A nervous murmur went
through the troop.  There was a good reason why volunteers skewed towards
females.  Women had a lot more to lose.  This was the first time anyone had
ever offered to formally train them.  Although the Chief was pragmatic about
not
forbidding
women to learn weaponry, he'd never actively
encouraged
it before now, either.

“This is how this
weapon is used.”  He slipped an arrow onto the string and drew his bow.  Taking
aim, he let it fly towards a target set up 100 paces down the field.  It hit
nearly dead-center. 

“Ooh!”  A buzz of
excitement went through the future archers.

“It will take time to
build the upper body strength to wield this weapon,” he pulled another arrow
from his quiver and let that one fly as well.  “But once you master it, it
doesn't matter whether you're male or female.  Women tend to be better shots
because they
practice
more.”

To accentuate his
point, he strung two arrows simultaneously and let both fly.  They landed
within the inner circle, although not dead center the way he would have
preferred.  He surmised he’d had little practice with the weapon since the
Cherubim masters had taught him to use it as a boy.

“Can this weapon also
be used for hunting?” Behnam asked.

“Yes,” Mikhail said. 
“You can shoot game before it has a chance to sense your approach.  Immanu … if
you would, please?”

In rapid succession,
Immanu threw three weighted balls of straw into the air.  Reaching into his
quiver in rapid succession, Mikhail grabbed each arrow, strung the bow, and
shot each bale down.  The candidates murmured enthusiastically.

“I could get me some
serious roast duck with such a weapon,” Behnam said with a toothless grin.

“Or goose,” Immanu
added.  The two gave each other a look two males might give before placing a
wager.

“Hunting game is
excellent practice for the day you might need to defend yourself against an
armed assailant,” Mikhail said.  “Therefore, hunting is an after-class activity
I'll encourage.”

“When will we get our
own weapon?” one of the candidates asked.  She looked down at her feet, her
cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“I'll loan you a bow
for training today,” Mikhail said, “just to give you a feel for it.  These ones
belong to me.  If you want to have one of your own, you'll need to make it
yourself.”

“We don't know
how
to
make such weapons,” a young girl, barely a woman said.

“Every archer should
know how to fashion their own bow and arrows from materials found in nature,”
Mikhail said.  “That way, if you're ever stranded, you'll be able to make a
weapon to hunt and survive.  You will learn how to make your own in the coming
days.  Until then, you need to take turns.  Line up … and take a bow.”

He'd feared a lack of
bows would be a problem.  However, with so few candidates, they would only need
two groups.  He hoped to get them into the scant forest to make their
own
before the trainees arrived from allied villages.  The low turnout was not his
problem.  If the Chief was not willing to make the order mandatory, Mikhail
wouldn't argue with him.  The best way to win support for your own cause was to
show your method worked under fire.  Mikhail gestured for the first five
candidates to line up.

“What's your name?” he
asked the voluptuous young woman who had asked him a question earlier.

“Yadidatum,” a dimple
appeared on one cheek.  She looked down at the ground, blushing.  “It means
‘one who listens.’” 

“Pleased to meet you
Yadidatum.”  He turned to the one, lone elderly man.  “And I recall that you're
called Behnam, right?”

“Yes,” the elderly man
flashed a toothless grin.  “It means ‘reputable.’”

“Pleased to meet you,
Behnam.”  Mikhail moved down the line to a young woman who couldn't have been
more than twelve years old.  “And you, young lady.  Who are you?”

“Pareesa,” the girl
said with an excited grin that only the very young possess.  “It means
‘fairy.’”

“Very good, little
fairy,” Mikhail moved to speak to a woman with reddish streaks in her brown
hair.  “And you, Miss?”

“I'm called Orkedeh,
after the flower,” the pretty thirty-something year old woman said.  Her figure
was that of a married woman with children.

“Glad to have you,
Orkedeh,” he said to her.  “And Immanu … my Ubaid father … who I'm sure you all
know.”

The candidates buzzed
around him like excited bees, eagerly grabbing the unfamiliar weapons and
running their fingers along the sinew.

“Let's move closer to
the target,” Mikhail said.  “It's too far away for your first shot.  But in two
weeks you should be able to hit that target from here.  This is how you string
the bow.”

He demonstrated how to
insert the sinew into the notches at either end, no easy task.  The candidates
did so with determined expressions on their faces.

“Ouch!” Yadidatum
exclaimed as the sinew slipped her grasp and thwacked her in the leg.  “That
hurt!” 

Mikhail showed her how
to push down on the wood of the bow, rather than pull up on the sinew, to get
it strung.  “Grip your bow like this … with your non-dominant hand.  This is
your aiming hand.”

The other candidates
followed suit.  Behind them, the second string of candidates waited their turn.

“Put your arm straight
out, at a right angle to your body,” he explained.  “If you don't hold your arm
straight, you won't
shoot
straight.“

He glanced over at
Ninsianna, his internal radar always aware of her presence.  Although trying to
not play favorites, a smile escaped one corner of his mouth.  Between visiting
the flintknapper to teach him how to make arrowheads, the butcher to get sinew
and feathers, and trips into the sparse forest to harvest wood, more than a
week had been lost.  He’d had no time to woo her in the manner Immanu said was
their custom. 

“Now, put three
fingers on the string
beneath
the notch, like … this …” he demonstrated. 
"Be careful not to bend the fletching … the feathers … as you do.  The
fletching is what makes your arrow fly straight.”  The candidates followed his
example.  “Draw back your arm all the way to your cheek … like this.  Your
three fingers should line up along your chin.”

“Oops!”  Pareesa's
string slipped her fingers.  Her arrow sprang out and onto the ground. 
“Sorry.”

“That will happen
until you build up more strength in your fingers,” Mikhail said.  “For now,
just hold on as best you can … and don't aim towards anyone you don't want to
hit.”  He turned to the larger group.  “It will take a few weeks to build the
upper body strength to draw the bow.  Don't get discouraged if you can’t hit
the target.”

He walked behind his
trainees, correcting their stances, as they held their bows drawn ready to
shoot.  Their arms began to shudder with the effort of holding the ready
position.

“Very good,” he said. 
“Now … look down the string along the arrow and line it up with your target. 
Where you look, that's the direction your arrow will shoot …. and … ready … aim
…. fire!”

The candidates let fly
the arrows.  Yadidatum’s shot hit the ground a few feet in front of her. 
Pareesa hit the target, but it bounced off without sticking.  Behnam hit the
straw beneath the target and it stuck in … not bad for an elderly man.  Orkedah
and Immanu both made it approximately three-quarters of the way. 

“Not bad for a first
try,” Mikhail nodded approval.  “Yadidatum … don't close your eyes when you
release your arrow.  That's why it fell flat.  Immanu, Orkedah, not bad.  We'll
work on building strength and control in your upper body so you can get more
distance.  Pareesa, Behnam, nice job.  Excellent for a first shot.”

The candidates
congratulated and slapped each other on the back.  Up next was Alalah ‘to
sprinkle’, a middle-aged woman in her forties; Gisou ‘flower’, a young girl
around 17 or 18; Homa ‘phoenix’, a short, sturdily built young woman around 20,
and Kiana ‘nature’, a mid-thirtyish woman with long brown hair that reached below
her backside.  And of course, Ninsianna.  Mikhail coached them how to shoot,
with similar results.  Alalah, the oldest, hit the target on the first try,
though by no means a bullseye.

“Nice shot, Alalah,”
Mikhail complemented her.  “Switch!  We'll keep switching back and forth until
you all get the feel for the bow.”

The candidates took
turns shooting over the next two hours.  Towards the end, his
archers-in-training began to cheer and joke.  Camaraderie was important for
warriors who might someday need to support each other in a battle situation. 
Satisfied they were on the correct track, he switched gears.

“Now it's time to do
some strength training,“ he said.  “Did everybody bring their buckets?”

The candidates brought
two buckets as requested.  Mikhail demonstrated how to fill them with water and
lift them various ways to build upper body strength.  The young women twittered
and giggled as he demonstrated each position.  The elderly man vigorously
lifted his two buckets with all of his might.