Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (83 page)

“Humans evolved
naturally,” Lucifer paced like a maestro conducting an orchestra.  “They come
in a variety of markings just like
your
ancestors did before they became
inbred.”

One of Kunopegos
distant ancestors had possessed pinto-paint markings.   Another buckskin. 
Thanks to the desperation of the breeding program,
all
hybrids knew
their lineage, but those markings had been lost for tens of thousands of
years.  Thoughts of those colorful ancestors came into his mind.  Without
realizing he'd even done so, Kunopegos had reached out and enclosed the human
filly's hand in his large, brown one.  She didn't appear to be afraid of him,
unlike
most
races in the galaxy.

“Does she have a
name?” Kunopegos asked.

“Her name is Aigiarn,”
Lucifer said.  “It means shining moon.  She comes from a nomadic tribe of
steppe-dwellers who live amongst the race that contributed the other half of
your DNA, horses.  She will be happiest riding upon your back.”

“You mean Shay'tan's
colony also has our equine ancestors?” Kunopegos asked, his hooves clomping
with excitement.  “Why can’t we reproduce with
them
?  Like the
Mer-Levi?”

“Alas,” Lucifer
clucked.  “Your equine ancestors were allowed to rot, the same as these
humans.  Humans were
already
sentient when the Emperor decided to tinker
with their DNA, but your equestrian ancestors are no more sentient than my
avian ones are.”

“But Leviathans…”
Kunopegos started to say.

“Leviathans were
already marginally sentient,” Lucifer said.  “The Emperor transplanted a few of
their ancestors to a new homeworld after tinkering with their DNA and then
forgot all about them.”

This was no secret. 
Kunopegos was old enough to remember when an Alliance ship had investigated an
unusual energy signature in a remote part of the galaxy and discovered a race
of sentient aquatic mammals descended from the same creatures that had
contributed the aquatic half of Merfolk DNA.  In the time since the loss of
Nibiru, the original human homeworld, the Levi had evolved into fully sentient
creatures who had achieved space travel on their own.  The news had been both
good and bad.  Merfolk were no longer going extinct, but they were no longer …
well … Merfolk, either.  After several generations of intermarriage with
Leviathans, the Mer-Levi children no longer resembled the half-human hybrids
they were descended from.

“The Emperor didn't
feel horses were important enough to gift with sentience,” Lucifer said.  “If
you reproduce with an animal, your offspring will be mentally defective.”

“But human females
will breed true?” Kunopegos asked.

“Yes,” Lucifer said. 
“At least as far as sentience is concerned.  Although half your offspring will
more closely resemble this human than you.  You'll be making a sacrifice to
guarantee the survival of your own species.”

“If this is the only
way my bloodline will survive,” Kunopegos said.  “Then that's what I must do.” 
Turning back to the female, Kunopegos made his choice.  “Come, my beautiful
filly.  Let’s get to know one another.”

Grabbing his hand,
Aigiarn swung up onto the equestrian half of his back as though he were a pony
and kicked him in the haunches, urging him to run.  The thighs that gripped his
back were sure of themselves and strong.  His apprehensions melted away.  This
was not the frail, exotic flower he'd first assumed her to be due to her
diminutive height.  The human root stock was … athletic?

“OOoooooh,” Kunopegos
pranced like a colt.  “On second thought, perhaps I'll enjoy this little romp?”

The knowing smile
Lucifer gave him didn't reach his eyes. 

“Gyaah!”  Aigiarn
slapped his haunches and steered him with her knees towards the pasture visible
in the ship beyond, crouching like a jockey.  Kunopegos and his mare-to-be did
their pre-mating run out into the communal ship pasture.

~ * ~ * ~
* ~ * ~

September, 3,390 BC

Earth:  Village of Assur

Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili

Mikhail

Last night Mikhail had
sent the warriors into the underbrush to harvest a shoulder-height walking
stick for today’s sparring lesson.  They held them now in a disorganized,
almost contemptuous manner, more eager to learn archery after watching Pareesa
take down Jamin than to master a weapon so mundane as an ordinary walking
stick.  That was about to change.

 “The foundation of
all Cherubim training is the ability to defend yourself using nothing but your
empty hands,” Mikhail said.  “Once you've mastered the art of unarmed combat,
you can add weapons comprised of things you might find up in nature.  No matter
where you go, chances are you'll always be able to find a stick to defend
yourself.”

“Why can't we just use
our spears?” Ugazum scowled at his stick.  Ugazum was one of Jamin's elite
warriors who'd attacked him the day his ship had crashed and
still
gave
him a bit of trouble.

 “What happens once
you run out of weapons?" Mikhail asked.  He flared his wings, just enough
to watch Ugazum flinch.  There.  Me … alpha male.   You … obey.  Oh how he
hated this game!  He tucked his wings against his back as soon as Ugazum fell
back into line

"Now … line up
and hold out your sticks so that you stand at least a staff-length apart,”
Mikhail said.  "Place your staff with your hand at the midpoint.”  He
demonstrated the correct way to hold the staff, walking up the line to correct
mistakes.  “It shouldn't look much different from the way you might carry a
walking stick.  Non-threatening.  However, you can quickly move into almost any
position.” 

Like a bolt of
lightning, he swung the staff into imaginary feints and jabs.  A murmur of
appreciation went through the trainees at how the innocuous looking piece of
wood could be moved to defend against a variety of threats.

“Sir?” Ebad asked. 
“When will we learn to throw a spear the way that you did at the solstice
tournament?”  While the elite warriors were competent to use a spear, most of
the other warriors were
not. 
Yet…

“Let’s learn how to
defend ourselves first,” Mikhail said.  “And then we can learn to throw it
later.  If it doesn’t have a spearhead at the end, there's no point in throwing
it.  You'll simply disarm yourself.”

The warriors practiced
thwacking one another until the training took on a satisfying percussion. 
Chief Kiyan came striding up, a staff in his hand. 

“Chief on deck!” 
Mikhail saluted the way he would a superior officer. 

The salute the
trainees gave the Chief was disorganized and awkward, but heartfelt.  The Chief
noted who was in attendance and how well they swung their staff weapons before
pulling Mikhail aside.

"I see you've
attracted more female warriors?" Chief Kiyan laughed.  "You've
gathered quite the harem."

Mikhail shot the Chief
a raised eyebrow, his best approximation of the one Needa used whenever she
found something hard to believe.

"They merely wish
to learn to defend themselves," Mikhail said.

"More likely they
wish to catch husbands," the Chief shot him a wolfish grin.  "Word
has gotten around around the fastest way a girl can gather a retinue of adoring
retainers is to take
your
class."

Mikhail gazed across
the now-36 females who buzzed around Pareesa like bees.  "They seem to
care more for
each other's
company than the men."

Except … the women
kept giving the men that furtive side-glance Ninsianna often gave
him
when
she wished to cause his temperature to rise.  The men, in turn, seemed to show
off even
more
when the women did that.  Mikhail filed the information
away in that growing mental database he called
inexplicable human behavior.

"I have an idea
for a morale-building exercise," the Chief said.  "A large herd of
gazelles has begun their annual migration across the plain."

"A hunt?" 
Mikhail looked at the size of the group.  "There are far too many to take
them all.  Who do you propose?"

"Thirty of your
most promising men," the Chief said, then added, "and women.  Select
a few warriors from each group.  The older warriors, the newer ones, and a few
of the elite warriors."

Mikhail looked at the
people training, already calculating who he'd recommend.  "Let me know
when
. 
I'll have them ready." 

The Chief moved off to
scrutinize the warriors, occasionally stepping in to test his
own
staff
routines against the newer ones Mikhail taught the warriors.  Ever since the
Chief had given up on Jamin picking up the baton of leadership, he'd been
taking a
personal
interest in the village defenses. 

Mikhail glanced across
the field and noticed Ninsianna walking towards him with her bow, a nice fat
goose slung over one shoulder.  She sat down on a rock to watch him train,
giving him an enormous smile that distracted him from the much less enticing
task of watching novice staff-fighters accidentally hit one another off the
head.  He suppressed the urge to do a hop-flap over to kiss her, his entire
body aware of her eyes watching as he trained their people.  Now it was
him
showing
off…

"Pareesa … could
you please help me demonstrate?” he asked.

“
Yorokobi, kyōshi to
[with
pleasure],” Pareesa clicked in the Cherubim tongue.  Not only did the little
demoness fight like hellspawn, but she'd also learned to say the names of the
maneuvers in the Cherubim tongue. 

“Just like we
practiced earlier, okay?”

“
Hai, sensei wa
[yes, teacher],
watashi wa junbi ga dekite iru
[I am ready]
,” she answered.

“
Showoffs
wa, oha ga kikkā o shutoku
[s
howoffs
get their tail feathers kicked],” he warned half in one language, half in the
other as the Cherubim had no direct translation for the word ‘showoff.’ 

He swung his
pole around to make contact with hers in the choreographed moves that would
allow his students to gain familiarity with using the staff.  As the tiny
archer adjusted to the strength of his blows, he increased his speed and
strength to give her a good workout.  Pareesa responded by coming at him with a
ferocity which no longer surprised him.

“Hey! Hey!
Hey!" he cautioned.  "Don't get too big for your kilt, little fairy.”

Pareesa
laughed and made a surprise lunge that was not part of the routine, nearly
hitting him on the shoulder as she danced out of his way. 

“The only one
too big for their britches is an oversized slowpoke like you!” she taunted,
cocky about her ability to land blows she'd learned only yesterday.  She'd
obviously spent the entire night practicing by her skill and the dark circles
under her eyes. 

“Are you sure
you want to do this?”  He could see his students, and Ninsianna, enjoyed
watching the fiesty young woman give him a run for his money.  “In front of
everybody?”

“Give me your
best shot,” Pareesa taunted.

He noted
Ninsianna's raised eyebrow. 

“Okay, you
asked for it,” Mikhail said. 

He swung his
staff like a whirligig, jerked it up and knocked Pareesa's staff out of her
hand.  At the same time, he hooked one foot behind her knee and knocked her to
the ground with his staff at her throat.  She landed with a thud.  His students
laughed.  Some were happy to see her provide a continuous source of entertainment,
others glad to see her get what she had coming to her.  Pareesa lay there for a
moment, blinking with surprise and most
uncharacteristically
free of a
cocky retort.

“Are you
okay?” he asked.  He reached down to pull her up.

“Yup!” 
Pareesa grabbed one hand and pulled herself up, laughing as she strutted back
into line with the other women with both hands raised in the air as though she
had
won
their match of only a moment before.  Half a dozen young men
made a beeline for her, slapping her on the back and making crude comments
about her fighting abilities that were usually only shared between an all-male
pack.