Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (Sword of the Gods Saga) Read online

  Back Cover Synopsis

  At the dawn of time, two ancient adversaries battled for control of Earth. One man rose to stand at humanity's side. A soldier whose name we still remember today…

  Angelic Special Forces Colonel Mikhail Mannuki'ili awakens, mortally wounded, in his crashed ship. The woman who saves his life has abilities which seem familiar, but with no memory of his past, he can't remember why! With his ship destroyed and a shattered wing, he has no choice but to integrate into her village.

  Ninsianna's people have prophecies of a winged champion, a Sword of the Gods who will defend her people against an Evil One. Mikhail insists he's no demi-god, but her dark premonitions and his uncanny ability to kill say otherwise. Even without the technology destroyed along with his ship, the sword he carries is a weapon of mass destruction to a people who still throw sticks and stones. When young women start to disappear, Mikhail must organize her people to fight back.

  Evil whispers to a sullen Prince. A dying species seeks to avoid extinction. Two emperors, entrenched in their ancient ideologies, cannot see the larger threat. As intrigues roil the heavens, a tiny Mesopotamian town becomes ground-zero for this fantasy fiction retelling of mankind's most epic story about the battle between good and evil, the clash of empires and ideologies, and the greatest superhero to ever walk the Earth. The Archangel Mikhail.

  Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One

  Anna Erishkigal

  Published by Seraphim Press, P.O. Box 440, East Sandwich, Cape Cod, Massachusetts 02537-0440, (508) 888-5392

  Electronic Edition

  Amazon Sub-Edition

  Copyright 2012 Anna Erishkigal

  v.6

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of adult fiction. All similarities to any persons or places in this book, whether living or dead, are purely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-09854896-0-1

  This book is also available in print at:

  https://www.createspace.com/3777041

  Cover art: ‘Michael.' Copyright © 2011 by Rochelle Green aka Caelicorn. All rights reserved. No part of this cover art may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the artist.

  http://caelicorn.cgsociety.org

  This is a work of adult fiction. It touches upon subject matters which may be inappropriate for some readers, including war, death, violence, foul language, explicit sex, scheming, back-stabbing, conniving, political intrigue and creative re-interpretations of religious mythologies some people may find offensive or blasphemous.

  This book is NOT religious fiction!!!

  If this were a movie, it would be rated 'R'

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to all the brave men and women who serve in the armed forces. To you I dedicate the biggest, baddest superhero to ever walk the earth. The Archangel Michael. A soldier … like you.

  You are the wind beneath our wings. Thank you!

  Contents

  Back Cover Synopsis

  Dedication

  Cover Art

  Acknowledgements

  A note about time…

  THE CHESS PIECES

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Epilogue

  PREVIEW – ‘Prince of Tyre’

  PREVIEW: Angel of Death: A Love Story

  A Moment of your Time, Please…

  About the Author

  Other Books by Anna Erishkigal

  List of Species

  Cover Art

  Rochelle Green aka Caelicorn is a freelance artist out of Palmerston, New Zealand. She has a law degree from Victoria University and a black-belt in Bujinkan ninjutsu. You can see more of her breathtaking artwork at:

  http://caelicorn.cgsociety.org/gallery/

  Or like her on Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Caelicorn/261144120697421

  High-resolution 8x10 prints of the cover art are available for purchase directly from the artist at:

  http://caelicorn.deviantart.com/art/Michael-252772522

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank the people without whose support this novel would have died a plot bunny hopping around on a hard drive.

&nb
sp; To my wonderful husband … who tolerates my nocturnal writing bouts and strange musings about ‘I can’t talk now … my bad guy is talking to me…’

  To my lovely children … whose mommy answers their blood-curdling screams about who stole whose toy with ‘not now … I'm in the middle of a battle scene…’

  To my oldest daughter, who serves our country in the Army National Guard Reserves. I re-watched your Fort Leonard Wood basic training video and think you’ll see scenes that are familiar. Yes … I did use that blackmail tear-gas training … but you’ll have to wait until Book 3 to read it. I'm so proud of you!

  To Rochelle Green aka ‘Caelicorn’ who was kind enough to let me borrow her beautiful artwork ‘Michael’ for my book cover. I hope readers will visit her digital gallery at http://caelicorn.cgsociety.org

  To Sensei Donna and my talented fellow karate students at Donna Marie's USA Urban GoJu Karate studio in Wareham, Massachusetts, who’ve tolerated my conscripting karate classes into live re-enactments of fight scenes so I can reality test the action. Especially the scenes containing real weapons!

  To my patient friends, who tolerate my launching into conversations about fictional characters that don't really exist and don't call the police when I fade off mid-sentence and mumble ‘excuse me … I have to go home and kill somebody off now…’

  To Anna's Angels who helped me exterminate a few pesky possessive plurals and other post-production problems - Cindy Leppard Green, Jun Lyn, R.M., and all the other sharp-eyed readers … thank you!

  And to my very first fan, who faithfully read through the earliest draft of this series as it was being written … Michelle Koller … aka ShellyStark. To you I dedicate your favorite Fallen general, Abaddon the Destroyer.

  A note about time…

  All times in this novel occur chronologically or concurrently unless specifically stated otherwise (i.e., three hours ago, or the present time). Because the story is told through the point of view of different characters, sometimes there may be a minor time-overlap to get the reader caught up, but all times should otherwise be treated as sequential.

  Both the Galactic Alliance and the Sata'anic Empire compute time from the day the Eternal Emperor ascended to the Alliance throne and signed the current Galactic Agreement which divides the Milky Way between the two empires (i.e., 152,000+ years). A.E. stands for 'After Emperors.' The decimal point after the year is the month, i.e., 02=February. All Galactic Standard dates run concurrently with time as it occurs on Earth unless specifically noted otherwise.

  152,323.02 = February 2, 3390 B.C.

  THE CHESS PIECES

  Prologue

  Ascended Realms

  Emperor Shay’tan

  Shay’tan

  “You're out of pawns!"

  The old red dragon moved a black pawn into position; flaring his wings like a predator waiting to pounce. He caught himself showing his ‘tell’ and tucked his leathery wings against his back, forcing his long, toothy snout to assume an expression of purest innocence as he waited for his adversary to make his next move.

  “Court pieces are worth more than pawns!" The Eternal Emperor Hashem moved a white rook to overtake the black pawn. “They can outmaneuver them.”

  “Ahhhh…." Shay’tan's smile transformed into a predatory grin. “You don't have enough respect for your pawns." He moved a second black pawn to overtake the white rook he'd just set up for a fall. “No matter how powerful your court pieces, you will never have enough of them, especially if you keep throwing them away on trivial moves.”

  “I'm using superior pieces to employ a superior strategy!” Hashem said. His wild white hair and bushy eyebrows gave him the aura of a mad scientist as he feigned an indignant expression. “Really, Shay'tan. You think too short-term to grasp the subtleties!”

  “Winning is all about the numbers!" Shay’tan dropped the unfortunate white rook into his growing pile of conquests. “He who has the most chess pieces, wins."

  Hashem's bushy white eyebrows bunched together in concentration as he scrutinized a group of black pawns clustered suspiciously in the uncharted territories.

  “What are you up to, you old devil?"

  Shay’tan gave his most innocent smirk, his long red tail twitching like a cat stalking a mouse.

  Hashem picked up a white knight and considered his next move. Shay'tan's grin disappeared as he recognized just which chess piece his opponent intended to bring into play. His wings jutted outward as Hashem moved the white knight towards the middle of the clustered black pieces.

  “White knight to Zulu Sector Three…" Hashem said.

  “Oh no you don't!" Shay’tan grabbed a black rook and reached to overtake the white knight before it could upset his game!

  The spinning map of the galaxy flickered, and then blinked out of existence, along with the room as She-who-is interrupted the match before either old god could complete their move.

  'It is time….'

  The neutrinos which allowed them access to the ascended realms dissolved as the two old gods were sent back to the material realm to see how their manipulations played out in the empires which they ruled.

  Chapter 1

  When men began to increase in number

  On the earth

  And daughters were born to them,

  The sons of God

  Saw that the daughters of men were beautiful,

  And they married any of them they chose. […]

  The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—

  And also afterward—when the sons of God

  Went to the daughters of men

  And had children by them.

  They were the heroes of old, men of renown.

  Genesis 6: 1-4

  February – 3,390 BC

  Pain.

  The first sensation he recognized was metal piercing flesh. He gurgled in agony as his lungs scraped against the steel rod which had pierced his breast, pinning him to the deck of his ship like a butterfly. He couldn't even scream. The best he could do was pant small, shallow breaths.

  Blood welled in his throat, burning and gagging as he exhaled. The stench of blood filled the air; the scent of his own impending death. One dark wing lay shattered beneath him, bone piercing skin and feathers, while the other had no sensation whatsoever. He tried to move his arm, but the agonizing stab of pain told him it was broken. His other arm and wing lay pinned beneath the collapsed bridge and he could not feel his legs. He had no idea whether they were trapped, broken, or severed completely from his body.

  His head throbbed as though someone had just hit him with a club. He tried to remember his name, who he was and how he had gotten here, but his mind drew a blank. It didn't matter. No living creature could sustain these kinds of injuries and survive.

  ‘So this is it,’ he thought. ‘The end...’

  A single tear escaped; the sting of salt as it passed over a cut oddly sharp even through the pain of his other injuries. Alone. He had always known that he would die alone.

  He closed his eyes and prayed to pass quietly into the void, to feel his life slip from his body so his pain would end, but he didn't. Even close to death, some part of him, the part that remembered who he was, whispered for him to fight. Survive. Live another day. Smite those who had done this to him, even though he had no recollection of who he fought or what he was fighting for.

  Long after he should have passed from this world, he continued to fight for each and every breath.

  Chapter 2

  February – 3,390 BC

  Earth: 12 hours earlier

  Ninsianna

  They were still looking for her. She could feel the clutch in her gut of someone attempting to force her to do something she didn't want to do. But … no. The sensation was not close. The chit-chit-chit of a squirrel reassured her she'd left no trail for the search party to track her. Exhausted, she dropped her satchel and sank to her knees.

  “Mother of All-That-Is…" Ninsianna, whose name meant She-who-serves
-the-goddess, raised her palms in a universal gesture of supplication. "The Chief has ordered I am to marry his son or no man at all!"

  Curvaceous and tawny-eyed, with a magnificent mane of hair which cascaded down her back like a chestnut waterfall, Ninsianna had always been pursued by boys, but this was the first time one refused to take 'no' for an answer. The chief's son was persistent, and far too used to getting his own way to listen when she'd told him 'I just don't love you.' What did he think she was? A simpleton? Jamin only sought to increase his prestige by marrying the shaman's daughter!

  "If I had been born a man, they would not dare treat me so!" Ninsianna implored. "Mother, I want a husband who will cherish me the way that Papa does my Mama! Not a servant to cook his food and bear his sons!"

  She stared at the slender brook which only flowed because they were still within the rainy season. Whatever had possessed her to run away? Although her skills as a healer would be welcome no matter where she traveled, Jamin was known for his fierce skill as a warrior and also his temper. Without a protector, he would simply drag her back to Assur.

  To her west the burning orange sun reunited with an ochre horizon, reminding her that refuge amongst the Halifian tribe would be even less desirable. The people of the desert took many wives and would make her cover her face and keep her opinions to herself; if they didn't sell her right back to Jamin for a hefty fee! Or worse … the enemy tribe might sell her as a concubine just to spite the Chief!

  What other options were available to a runaway bride?

  She rifled through the supplies she'd pilfered from her father, her mind whirring as she prepared to perform the ritual of divination. In a circle she placed a sack of bones to divine the future and dried parrotia to symbolize the spirit. Her hand trembled as her fingertips found the last item; a small, clay flask containing a tincture of belladonna berries and poppy pods. Ninsianna had never paid any heed to the prohibitions against women performing magic, but even she, who had never been a particularly obedient daughter, had always shied away from the potion which freed a shaman's mind to travel directly into the Dreamtime.