Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (Sword of the Gods Saga)
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.