3.1 & 3.2

Chapter Three:  Ishitar Discovers His Power

--1-

           

“Lord Noliminan is most displeased with you.”  Michael snapped at Aiken some eight months after Ishitar had moved in with Loki.  Lord Noliminan was most displeased with Aiken for having arranged for a flight of female dragons and a travelling band of human merchants to drink from a spring that had been spelled—after bartering with Aiken—by the God of love, Eros.  “What were you thinking?”

            “I was thinking that with free will comes consequence.”  Aiken shrugged at him.  He wasn’t taking the matter very seriously.  It was almost as though he found great humor in the fact that he was meant to be punished.  “The talking monkey made a deal with me.  I held up my end of the bargain.  He didn’t hold up his.  Therefore, I got my price by other means.”

            “Humans and dragons are not meant to interbreed.”  Michael seethed, ignoring Aiken’s reference to the human as a ‘talking monkey’.  That had ever been Lucias’ quip.  And, though Michael had never admitted it to a single living soul, it was a quip that amused him beyond telling.  “Of all the asinine . . .” He shook his head as he forced himself to bite the inside of his cheek lest he smile. “And now Lord Noliminan must figure out who is to lord over this new race of beasts.”

            “Not my problem.”  Aiken shrugged again. 

As he did so, Loki and Ishitar stepped into Loki’s apartment of rooms.  Michael was helpless but to smile at the younger of the two Gods as he called out his name and sprang forward.  Michael took him into his arms, granting him the fatherly affection that he had always craved from Michael, and kissed him lightly on the forehead before pushing him gently away.  He didn’t miss the amused exchange between Lords Loki and Aiken that this small bit of affection created.

Clearing his throat, he turned to Aiken and frowned.  “Don’t make him wait.”

“I wouldn’t dream.”  Aiken replied wearing a self satisfied smirk.

Michael turned to Loki and Ishitar and gave them both a perfunctory bow.  “My Lords.”

“My Lord.”  Ishitar replied, granting Michael a bow in return.

As Michael left Loki’s apartment, he heard Loki chuckle and ask, “What by the name of my beard have you done now?”

With no one around to see him, Michael allowed himself to smile.

-2-

            Raphael was reading one of Lord Noliminan’s books aloud to him when Michael knocked on the door. He rose to answer, but Lord Noliminan flicked his hand at him and told him to sit down. He barked his order to Michael through the door that he should enter. Michael did and, irritated with him, Lord Noliminan raised his gaze to meet Michael’s own. “You’re late.”

            “I was delayed by Lord Aiken.” Michael advised him as he stepped forward and found his knee. Lord Noliminan flicked his hand upward and toward the chair beside Raphael. As obedient as he ever had been, Michael rose and took his seat. “He’s extremely satisfied with himself.”

            “So I assumed that he would be.” Raphael watched with keen amusement as Lord Noliminan bit back the smile that wanted to dance to his lips. Aiken, Raphael knew, who was most definitely Lord Lucias’ son, had always amused Lord Noliminan. Now was not the time to allow Michael to see this amusement, however. There were orders that must be made of Michael that Raphael knew that Michael would be less than appreciative of receiving. “I told you very recently that we live in a time of peace.”

            “You did, my Lord.” Michael’s brow rose slightly.

            “That being said, I can spare the General of my army to other tasks.” Michael’s eyes flicked to Raphael. Raphael swiftly lowered his. “For the time being, that is.”

            “My Lord?” Michael’s voice shook slightly.

            “This new race . . . these . . . things,” Lord Noliminan’s nose curled slightly in distaste, “are going to need someone to look after them until such time as a God can be bred among them.”

            “I agree, my Lord.” Michael replied, his voice still shaking.

            “It comes to my mind, given the benandanti are disappearing in vast numbers , that despite Aiken’s mischief, this race couldn’t have come about at a better time.” He sighed and sat back in his chair. “We could inbreed in this race a sense of duty and protection.” His eyes danced over Michael’s face for a moment before proceeding. “I want you to live among these creatures as their King and teach them all things that you know.”

            “My Lord, I . . .” Michael shook his head. His expression was that of both surprise and joy. “I am to be their God?”

            Noliminan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why on which moon would I make you a God?”

            Raphael felt the slap. He sensed that Michael did too. Though Michael was obviously better able to stay his immediate reaction than Raphael was judging by the swift movement of Lord Noliminan’s eyes in Raphael’s direction after Raphael let out a groan of pain on his brother’s behalf.

            “No, you shouldn’t, I just thought that—“

            “Temporarily,” Lord Noliminan growled, snapping his eyes back to Michael, “I will give you the powers of a God. After you have propagated an appropriate heir you are to return to me and we are never to speak of your betrayal against me amongst the mortals again.”

            “My Lord . . .” This time Michael did react. He violently shivered. “Betrayal?”

“I did order for you to be chaste.” Lord Noliminan’s eyes narrowed. Raphael realized at once that poor, loyal Michael had just been baited.

“As I have ever been!”

“Yet, you cannot remain faithful to me whilst breeding a son.” Lord Noliminan growled at him. “Now can you?”

“You mean for me to . . . to breed with them?” Michael looked so affronted that to look upon his handsome face was almost painful. “And then you mean to consider my following your orders to do so against my own will to be a betrayal against you?”

            “I do.” Lord Noliminan nodded and tented his hands at his chest. “The twelve of you are always complaining that I don’t allow your hands to wander.”

            Raphael, understanding that Michael had the right of things, wanted to scream on Michael’s behalf. Lord Noliminan was ordering Michael to do something that he did not want to do and was then going to punish Michael for having done it.

            “Yes, but with—“

His reaction was far calmer than Raphael’s would have been trapped in the same conversation. He supposed that both Lord Noliminan and Michael knew that. And, perhaps, Michael might love Raphael for his silent indignation on Michael’s behalf.

            Raphael hoped so. And, then, as Michael reached for him beneath the desk so that Lord Noliminan wouldn't see, searching for his hand, Raphael knew so.

            Raphael took Michael’s hand and held it tightly.

            Their love was brotherly, yet strong. And it was in times such as this that they had ever turned to one another for strength.

            “This is not a request, Michael.” Lord Noliminan glowered at him. “So make peace with it in whatever manner you think best.”

            “I . . .” Michael’s skin was as pale as parchment. His black eyes were swimming with discontent. Raphael didn’t blame him one bit for the horror that was coursing through his veins. A creature that was born of a man and a dragon would be a hideous beast to behold. And he was meant to breed with one of them?

            And then to be punished for having done so!

            “Of course, my Lord.” Michael finally managed. “When do you wish that I leave you?”

            “Now.” Lord Noliminan replied, his expression one of pure irritation. “Remove the eggs from their mothers and then guard them until they hatch.”

            “How many are there, my Lord?” Raphael braved on Michael’s behalf.

            “A little over four thousand.” Lord Noliminan muttered. “Plenty to give a good start to a new race.”

            “I am to guard four thousand eggs?” Michael asked. His tone was so tight that Raphael felt that he might come unstrung at any moment. “By myself?”

            “Of course by yourself.” Lord Noliminan sighed his irritation. “I cannot afford to lose all twelve of my Quorum.”

            “No, but—!“

            “Do you intend to fail me, Michael?”

            “Never in life, but—!“

            “Then why are you arguing with me about it?” Lord Noliminan asked with a heavy sigh.

            “I am not, my Lord.” Michael shook his head. “I assure you.” His voice began shaking now. Raphael could feel the rage pounding off of him in Lord Noliminan’s direction.  “But if I could borrower even one of Lady Mortium’s angels, then my chances of succeeding will improve by a thousand fold.”

            Lord Noliminan seemed to consider this for a moment. Finally he said, “Very well.” He reached for a piece of parchment and his quill. He dipped it in ink and scrawled a letter to Lady Mortium, which he quickly handed to Michael. “Give the Lady my instructions. But no more of your delay than that, Michael. I want this seen to straight away.”

            Michael took the parchment deftly between his fingers, standing as he did so. When he spoke, his tone was pure venom and his words were forced through his teeth. “As I ever do, my Lord.”

            He spun away, stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

            Raphael was left to stare upon Lord Noliminan with a wide eyed, puzzled and—he would never admit this to anyone but himself—disappointed glare.