The Ananaki Kira Bacal Smashwords Edition Copyright 2012 Kira Bacal Smashwords Edition, License Notes Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
The gods were going to be upset. And of course, when they fumed, we mere mortals paid the price. I took a deep breath and tried to put the thought from my mind. Time enough for that later. Instead, I looked down at the dripping sailor cowering at my feet and forced my voice to be gentle. “Fully half the cargo was lost? You’re sure?” Alchimon raised a tear-streaked face and nodded. “I would give anything if it were not so, but I saw with my own eyes as the bales washed overboard and sank.” Over his head, his uncle, my first mate, caught my gaze and nodded grim confirmation. I could see from his expression that he considered the loss to reflect badly upon him. Behind me, the rest of the crew absorbed the news and a low rumble of comment began. I couldn’t tell if they were angry with Alchimon, apprehensive of what was sure to follow, or just dismayed by the events, but I cut the mutterings off. “That’s enough. Alchimon, tell me again exactly what happened.” He gulped and tried to compose himself. “We had left the Etreans nearly two marks of the sundial before and were passing the small reef that marks the end of the shallows.” I nodded to encourage him. “You made good time then.” “Yes,” he agreed eagerly. “The Etreans had the cargo ready, and I had already worked out the best method to load the skiff. It was as we were crossing in front of the last outcropping of the reef that we saw him. He was nearly underwater – waves were lapping at his chin and they prevented him from calling out. He tried, but ended up choking, so all he could do was wave at us. Belsides saw his arm flapping, and I – I ordered the boat to change course to save him.” He glanced from me to his glowering uncle. “He was drowning! I had to do something!” Then he dropped his gaze, recalling what happened next. “But when we got near, the currents around the reef were treacherous and strong. The boat began to rock from side to side, and the cargo was not – I had not secured the cargo against such a surf. It began to shift, and when we pulled the man into the boat, it overbalanced and went overboard. The entire craft nearly capsized… I thought we would lose it all and crew besides before we could fight our way clear.” I looked over to where two of my men were working on the half-drowned figure. “Of course you had to save him, Alchimon. But did you not realize that the tide is going out, and so the man had already survived the worst of it? You could have returned to the ship, unloaded your cargo, and returned to fetch him well before the tide would turn. Empty, the skiff would have been much easier to navigate near the reef, and you would have put the crew at much less risk.” His expression told me all I needed to know. In the excitement of his first major assignment, the prospect of a rescue at sea had driven all other thought from his head. As the realization dawned that the loss of the cargo had not just been unfortunate but also wholly avoidable, Alchimon lowered his head and wept. His uncle cuffed him on the shoulder. “Think that will do any good?” he demanded angrily. “Save your tears for the Ananaki! When they get through with you, you’ll have reason to cry!” “I will deal with the Ananaki,” I snapped, glaring at Nemadon. “I am the captain of this vessel. The responsibility is mine alone.” Alchimon sobbed harder. Nemadon hunched his shoulders and frowned at me. “But they will–“ “They will be most displeased,” I finished for him. “It is not the first time, nor will it be the last, that I must give them unwelcome news. That doesn’t change the fact that it is my duty to do so – and to bear the consequences.” I glanced at Alchimon, now hiccupping and gulping as he struggled to regain his composure. “We will all learn from it. Alchimon has learned the need to maintain a cool head under all circumstances and to tie down cargo even in calm seas. I have
learned that Alchimon is not yet ready for command.” At my words, Alchimon flinched as if struck, but he managed to refrain from more tears. “Nor is he yet ready to face the wrath of the Ananaki. That is all; I have spoken.” Nemadon glared at me and shook his head, but all that passed his lip was an incoherent grunt, a mix of resignation, disapproval, and worry. “Go see to the unloading of what cargo remains,” I told Alchimon. “The rest of you, back to work! Nemadon, come – there is no benefit in delaying the inevitable.” My mate accompanied me to the small room at the far end of the deck. We paused at the door and he gave me an unhappy look. “The blame belongs to me. I should not have urged you to give Alchimon the duty. He was not ready, but I was too proud to realize it. The fault is mine.” I grinned at him. “Are you now the master? Yes, I heard your words, but I knew how you felt. I did not have your familial pride, and I too thought the boy was ready. The decision was mine, and so too the error. You are getting above yourself!” I teased. “Do I need fear a mutiny?” The words wrung a smile from him, but it was short-lived. “I just wish—“ “Do not anticipate the worst,” I admonished lightly. “Perhaps we shall be lucky. If it is Astarte, we might yet get off lightly.” He shook his grizzled head doubtfully, but forebore to contradict me directly. I turned from him and entered the Holy of Holies – the one room on the ship where no one goes save myself. The small room held an altar, with the offering I had made this morning, and the Amulet of Summoning. Obeying the ritual first taught me when I became a Master of the Sailors’ Guild, I made the proper obeisance and brought my forehead down on the square Amulet, feeling the familiar click as I pressed against it. Then I retreated a pace and knelt before the box, awaiting the gods. It was not long before I could hear the whispering begin in the air around me. Quickly, one voice became clear. “Kasker! Why have you summoned us?” The voice was mellifluous and female, and I felt my heart leap with new hope. “Greetings to you, O most wise and gracious Astarte.” Although no Ananaki would ever be gentle, Astarte was among the least capricious, and she seemed to be fond of me. My crew never failed to pay tribute to her, wherever we traveled, and she often seemed to be aware of and pleased by our devotions, though naturally she never treated them as anything less than her due. I took a deep breath. There was no good way to say this. “We have had a difficulty –“ I started. “Tell me!” In an instant, the warmth was gone, her voice sharp and angry. “Half the cargo has been lost,” I said bluntly. Dressing up the facts with flowery words would not help me. “How?” she demanded. “Was the sea too rough?” My heart sank. Sarcasm was never a good sign. “No, most serene one. The weather you have sent us is as fine as any sailor could desire. The seas are like glass, the breezes gentle and warm.” “Then what happened?” A new voice broke in, harsher and male, and I abandoned all thoughts of a light punishment. “Blessings on you, Ohtolam,” I murmured, again pressing my forehead against the deck. “Answer my question!” he snapped. “The skiff was not loaded properly and nearly capsized when it approached a reef, where the surf was more active. I give thanks to your providence for preserving my crew.”
Ohtolam made a savage sound of dismissal, confirming my opinion that he cared little for the lives of his servants. “The cargo?” “Fully half gone,” I confirmed. “Useless!” he cried, and I scented the unmistakable tang in the air that presaged a fiery lash. A second later, the first blow fell across my back. I stifled my cry – there was nothing to be gained by such displays. “Wait – something is amiss,” Astarte intervened. “He has never before shown such ineptitude.” “So?” Ohtolam demanded of me. “What happened? Were you the worse for drink?” “I was not!” Stung by the accusation, I replied automatically, and instantly cursed my candor. Despite the inevitable beating it would provoke, a lie about an uncharacteristic bout of drunkenness causing the error would have been much the wiser course. “So? Then how did it come to pass?” Astarte asked, her tone more measured than Ohtolan’s angry one. I sensed she was trying to help me, to distract Ohtolam, but her questions were most unwelcome. “Another was involved,” I admitted reluctantly. “But I did not supervise the loading, and so the blame and the punishment are mine.” “Aha,” Ohtolam said, almost a purr in his voice. “So there is someone else? Bring the wretch before me.” The image of Alchimon’s terrified face swam before me. “There is no need. I will take the beating for this infraction.” “What? You presume to decide such things? Who are you to rule thus? Bring me the wretch as I commanded!” I did not answer, but neither did I move. “You dare disobey the gods?” Ohtolam, as I expected, was infuriated by my refusal, but I had long ago determined never to relinquish one of my crew to the capricious and brutal Ananaki. Even Astarte could be merciless in her displeasure. The blows began to fall, yet I remained firm in my refusal. Crouched on the deck, suffering under the lash, I struggled to remain in the proper position of obeisance and mentally thanked my ancestors for allowing me to avoid mention of the man we saved. The Ananaki would have been even more outraged had they realized we lost their precious gems to save the life of a – to them – worthless mortal. If anything, Ohtolam would have beaten me more severely for meddling in the gods’ plans for another. Even as I flinched beneath the Ananaki’s invisible scourge, I caught scattered words from a conversation between Ohtolam and Astarte. “—enough!” she hissed. “What to do without… most reliable …If …don’t kill him …more from the mines … no rush … all the time in the world…” It would seem she persuaded him, as the blows ceased to fall, and I no longer heard his voice in the air around me. “So, Kasker,” Astarte spoke coolly, “you wish to protect your crew? Is that not a role for the gods?” With difficulty, I lifted my head. “It is not my crew I protect,” I lied, hoping she would not detect the untruth, “but my position. I am the master. I would not lose that title despite the stripes.” “You creatures,” she said in amusement. “You concern yourselves with the most absurd ideas.” Then her voice turned steely. “So be it. You have been chastised for your disobedience to the great god Ohtolam, but your loss of the cargo remains unpunished. Prepare yourself!”
And then it came. The second beating was worse than the first – when Astarte becomes angry, she is as cruel as any of the Ananaki; at least Ohtolam, in his rage, forgets what offense you committed and departs as soon as his fury is spent. Astarte, less emotional, is meticulous in recording – and addressing – every slight, no matter how minor. Even after the punishment ended, and the whispering faded from the air around me, signaling the gods’ departure, it was some time before I could rise. I had made it as far as my knees when a strong arm gripped me under the shoulder and lifted me to my feet. “Nemadon?” I squinted at him through the haze of pain. “What are you doing in here?” “The gods are long gone,” he said gruffly, though I saw him cast an uneasy eye upon the altar behind him, “and you need help.” “They will not reward you for your kindness,” I warned him. “You are offering succor to someone whom they in their infinite wisdom have seen fit to chastise.” “Huh!” he snorted dismissively, but I noted that he had waited until he had dragged me from the Holy of Holies. Nemadon helped me to my bed, where Eriel, our old healer, smeared my burns and welts with his unguents. He too was defying the gods with these actions, but when I remonstrated with him, he ignored my words just as had Nemadon. Eriel was a follower of the old ways, and prayed – albeit secretly – to the ancestors. It was their teachings of kindness and charity, rather than the Ananaki ways, that he honored. By morning, thanks to Eriel, even the worst of the cuts had crusted over, and I limped from my bed to join Nemadon at the rail. “So?” he asked, running a practiced eye over me. “How are you?” “May the punishment of the gods help me to see the folly of my ways.” I quoted formally. He turned and spat over the rail, and we shared a grin. “Enough, old friend. My skin will heal – eventually. Come, show me this strange fish who has caused such trouble.” We walked towards the bow. Eriel had managed to bring the bedraggled fellow around last night, and he was by now looking almost chipper. “Well met!” I greeted him. “I am Kasker, master of this vessel. What is your name?” “Simha,” he replied, pushing his hair from his eyes and folding his hands in the local gesture of obeisance. I sketched a similar sign to be polite, although my status made it unnecessary for me to do so. “What befell you that you were in such a state?” He ignored my question to ask an eager one of his own. “You say you are sailors – what is your home port? Is it one of the Distant Isles?” Behind me, Nemadon snorted disdainfully at his ignorance. I replied with more tact. “No vessel of this size could hope to travel so far. We sail out of Jofray – serving the gods as couriers during the hot season, so that we may then fish for our sustenance and store food during the Time of the Winds.” A look of disappointment and scorn crossed his features. “The gods? You too tremble and kowtow before them?” I ignored the gasps from crewmembers around us and answered evenly. “Only a fool would deny the gods their deference.” “But you are a sailor!” he protested, a gleam entering his eye. “You are free to go wherever you want!”
“A heretic,” Nemadon pronounced with a sort of gloomy satisfaction. “This grows ever better. We lost our cargo rescuing a heretic.” “Sailors rely on the gods more heavily than most,” I told Simha, determined to keep my temper. “With one storm, the Ananaki can destroy my catch, my vessel, even my crew. What sort of fool would I be to scorn them? What is more, sailors must eat the same as landsmen. If I do not serve the gods, what port would grant me access?” “The Distant Isles!” Simha said eagerly. “They are not under the thumb of the gods! You could sail there and –“ “Even if this ship could reach the Isles – which it cannot – my crew have families in Jofray. Our lives are there. Should we abandon everything we know?” I could feel my anger building at his illogic and tried to force it down. “For freedom? Of course!” he snapped, impatient at my dull grasp of the facts. “No wonder his own people staked him out for drowning,” Nemadon growled in my ear. “If he goes on talking like this, he’ll get us all killed.” Simha heard and immediately flared, “My own people are short-sighted idiots who don’t recognize that the Ananaki are unworthy of worship!” I slapped him then, hard across the mouth, but my cry of pain echoed his as the movement reopened the weals on my back. He fell back against the deck, one hand to his jaw, his eyes wide as he suddenly realized his vulnerable state. On my vessel, I make the laws – with the gods’ approval, of course. “I will not have blasphemy aboard this vessel,” I told him, very quietly, struggling to ignore the pain in my back and keep my breathing even. “My crew have risked much for you, and will suffer enough as a result. We do not need to add to that because of your foolish notions. You speak like a child – prating of what the gods deserve. They are gods! The Ananaki take what they will, they can destroy with a thought. I will not have you creating trouble. If you do not wish to return to the sea, you will mind your tongue well. You will help my crew as best you can, and when we get to Jofray we will set you on shore there. Do you understand?” Simha nodded, his eyes frightened. I was glad to see the fear in him – one never knows when the Ananaki might be listening, and I would not risk having my crew jeopardized for his radical notions. I spun away, Nemadon at my heels. “I can put him to work helping the cooks,” he offered. “Just keep an eye on him – make sure he does not confuse some of the younger members of the crew. Remember what happened to Innea.” Nemadon nodded grimly. Innea had been a talented captain whose one flaw was her inability to keep her thoughts to herself. She made no secret of her irreligious ways and went so far as to scoff at the need to pay the Ananaki tribute. Her entire ship was lost with all hands in an unseasonal gale. Things were quiet for the next several days after that. Simha kept out of my way, but Alchimon nearly drove me to distraction with his devoted attentions. Finally Nemadon took pity on me and set him to rechecking the rigging. Every day, when I went in to the Holy of Holies to perform my devotions to the Ananaki, they remained silent, but that was often how they showed their displeasure. The weather remained mild, however, so I did not set too much by their continued quiet. In truth, I much preferred stony silence to another beating. We made good time and reached the halfway point in our journey home right on schedule. By then, nearly a week had passed without a sign from the gods, and despite the continuing quiet seas, I was getting increasingly nervous. The crew knew nothing, of course – my dealings with the gods, punishments aside, were generally a private matter. I decided to risk initiating contact.
If the Ananaki were silent due to anger, then I would likely bring down more abuse upon myself, but if they had forsaken us… But surely they would have said something first. I reached for the Amulet to begin the ritual, but my hand froze in mid-air. The Amulet looked… different. I bent closer, studying it for some time, before realizing that a small area on the left side was sunken. Had the Amulet been damaged? But how? No one but myself would even dare to enter – No sooner had the thought entered my mind than I was out the door. I was pale with fury, my jaw clenched against shouts of rage. The rest of the crew were at their morning meal. I burst into the galley and paused in the doorway. Every eye – save one – went instantly to me. Jaws dropped and conversation died as they caught sight of my countenance, but one lone figure hunched closer over his bowl and kept eating, desperately pretending to a normalcy that no longer existed. I was at Simha’s side in two strides and snatched him off the bench before he could speak. I dragged him, gabbling and protesting, from the room and threw him against the rail. “Get back to your meal!” I snarled as my crew rushed to follow me, and they uncertainly halted at the door. Nemadon, as bewildered as the rest but loyal to a fault, shooed them back to the tables and – reluctantly – closed the door upon them. “Are you mad?” I demanded once I was assured of our privacy. If my crew discovered what Simha had done, they would lynch him on the spot. He visibly decided that further protestations of innocence would be useless. “I only wanted to show you that those gods of yours are unworthy of your respect,” he whined. “What did you do? Exactly?” He cast his eyes from side to side, seeking an avenue of escape, but I was implacable and held him pinned against the rail. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the fins of fire sharks swimming nearby, and Simha could too. “I – I only went into the altar… Just to see what it was like.” “What did you touch?” “There was a small box – I picked it up, but I didn’t do anything.” I half-lifted him over the rail and he yelled in terror. “All right! All right! I – I – there were some areas that I pressed on the box. I didn’t mean anything by it.” I dropped him back on the deck and loomed over him. “Because of your defiling their sacred space, the gods have refused to speak with me. I have no way of knowing if there are storms in our path or if the Ananaki will continue to shelter us with these calm waters and favorable winds. For all I know, they have even now called out their sea monsters against us. You may have doomed us all with your impiety!” He began to quake. A true landsman, he had never been comfortable on the ship once we left sight of the shore. “But – but – surely they wouldn’t…” “Oh no? Do you know how many vessels they doomed last year alone? So much for your certitude that they are undeserving of our devotion!” I caught him by the arm and dragged him to his feet. “What are you doing?” His face twisted in fear as he again caught sight of the sharks. “You are coming with me. Back to the Holy of Holies, where you will repair the Amulet of Summoning and apologize to the gods.” The blood drained from his face, leaving him a muddy gray. “But – but they will surely destroy me.” “Probably.” I kept dragging him along. I was too concerned about the rest of us to spare pity for this blasphemer.
I forced him into the small room and thrust the Amulet at him. “What did you do?” His hands trembled as he reached for it. “There was a small square – here – that I pressed in, and I – I slid my finger along this ridge here, moving it.” “Move it back.” I was implacable, and shaking with fear he did so. Both of us more than half expected a lightning bolt to come through the roof at us any moment, but the skies remained cloudless and the seas smooth as glass. Finally, “That’s how it was. I think.” “You think?” I bit off further recriminations. The idiot had done his best to restore the Amulet. Now we would have to see if it worked. I had Simha kneel beside me, then went through the ritual. Nothing. After several moments, I glared at Simha, and he diffidently reached over and fiddled some more. Abruptly, the air around us was filled with the whispery rustling of the gods. Simha squeaked and tried to bury his head in the wooden deck. I swallowed hard. “Oh, great and noble Ananaki. Oh, wise and merciful gods. I, Kasker, call to you.” “Who the grik is on this frequency? Stan, is that you? Is this some kind of joke?” Simha raised his head and gazed at me in astonishment. I was too stupefied to answer, and the new voice went on. “Stan? If the colonel hears you playing on this frequency, she’ll stick you out the nearest airlock, you waste of cube. What are you playing at?” “I beg your pardon, my lord, but I am not this Stan of whom you speak. I am Kasker, a humble shipmaster from Jofra. I beg forgiveness for bothering you, divine one.” “What? Hey, listen, this is a controlled frequency, buddy. You should know better than to transmit on a military band. You’re in violation of at least three intersystem regulations.” “Please accept my humble apologies, my lord. I am but a mere mortal and know nothing of the gods’ affairs. The Amulet by which I contact you has been --- not working of late.” “Gods? What the – Hey, Hsien, get me some triangulation on this signal. Where is it coming from?” There was a brief pause, while I was uncertain what to do, then the new god’s voice let out a low whistle. “From way the grik over there? Good grief. What the – Hey, Colonel! Over here!” “What’s the matter?” Another god joined the conversation, but I couldn’t tell whether this boded good or ill for us. “Ma’am, look at where this signal is coming from. Yeah, exactly. They shouldn’t have internal combustion let alone intersystem comm beacons.” “Who is this?” “Kasker of Jofra, noble goddess. Are – are you Ananaki as well? Did I so displease my lady Astarte that she has forsaken us? May we not make new obeisance so that she does not cause her face to frown upon us?” “What the – Stand by, er, Kasker.” There was a longer pause, with much whispering. I didn’t dare raise my head from the floor. This was entirely unprecedented in my experience. I had never spoken with an Ananaki other than Astarte and Ohtolam… If the priests knew of these other gods, they were keeping the knowledge a secret. Finally, the new gods returned. “Okay, Kasker, tell me about these Onnernoks of yours. How exactly do you talk to them?” I did my best to answer their questions, although their manners of speech were new and strange to me. They seemed very excited about the Amulet and even had me search for and
describe some hidden markings to them. They quizzed me closely about my fealty to the Ananaki – how long my family and I had worshiped, whether we had been among the earliest converts when the Ananaki first manifested to us in my grandfather’s time, how the Ananaki’s ways differed from that of the old religions… Not knowing what answers were best, I had no choice but to tell the truth, and at the end the silence went on for so long that I nearly gave us up for lost. Clearly my fate was being decided – perhaps because of my sin in allowing a blasphemer to enter the Holy of Holies – and these new gods were my judges. I was about to plead with them to spare the life of my crew, if not my own, when the “Colonel” god spoke. “Kasker, you are a good servant to us, and you have answered my questions well.” A great weight seemed to lift off my shoulders. Perhaps I would yet see my children again. “I want you – what? I told you not to disturb me – Who? Oh, that’s all right then. Yes, pull them off their patrols and get them over there. Some lowlife is looting these poor primitives using the old god gambit with electrical feedback from jury-rigged transmitters to compel obedience. I want them off that planet and in my brig before this week is up. I don’t care how many schedules get reshuffled. Do you read me? – Okay, Kasker, where were we? Oh yeah. Right. Okay, well, you’re a good disciple and, uh, I promise that you and yours will lead full and happy lives. And, um, you’ll catch plenty of fish, and – what? Oh, yes – and I’ve decided to make you my messenger.” I choked. Me? A messenger of the gods? I was but a simple sailor! But the gods’ decisions are not to be questioned, and she continued to speak. “You are to continue your voyage, Kasker, but do not use the Amulet ever again. For you must – uh – purify yourself to carry my message. Don’t fear; I will watch over you. And when you get to Jofray, I want you to tell your people that the Ananaki are – um – are very pleased with all of you. But we are – um – moving on. You and your people have learned all that we can teach. You should return to the ways of the ancestors. Live as you used to live – you need no longer pay tribute to us. You should start to think for yourselves. Worship as you see fit. And, um, you know,” for a moment her voice grew more hesitant, then once again grew in confidence, “live long and prosper. That’s all.” Her voice, and the whispery rustling cut off with a final, heart-stopping click. In the silence that followed, my thoughts whirled about like dry leaves in a wind. It was hard to know what to think. The Ananaki leaving? Me, their messenger? The old ways once again permitted? Simha was staring at me as if I were transformed. “You,” he breathed. “You are the herald for the gods.” I nodded, jerkily. “You. The divine envoy.” He dropped his head to the deck again, groveling before me. The sight embarrassed me and with that some normalcy returned. “Yes, yes. Get up already.” It seemed our atheist had been reborn. “Come.” I pulled him to his feet and out of the Holy of Holies. As we came out of the doorway, my entire crew was waiting in attitudes of fear and dread. I saw with a jolt that the sun was nearly at the horizon. Had we really been in there all day? No wonder my crew looked worried! “What--?” Nemadon began apprehensively. “He is the emissary!” Simha shouted, dropping to his knees before me. “The gods have anointed him to bring their message to the people of Jofray and beyond!” My crew stared, transfixed at the sight, but Simha’s fervor was so patently sincere, they didn’t even wait for my confirmatory nod to begin to kneel.
“No, no,� I protested, but it was no use. From that moment, my life as Kasker, simple master of a sailing vessel, was over. I had become Kasker the Messenger. By the time we got to Jofray, it was almost too simple. It had been two days since the Ananaki had last spoken to anyone. A new star had flared briefly in the heavens shortly after the last communication with Astarte had been cut off, and people were beginning to panic. I was able to reassure them and with the help of Eriel and others who practiced the Old Ways, it was not long before the fears were allayed and the rhythms of life resumed. Now I am an old man, and it is often hard to remember what it was like when we worshiped the Ananaki, but I must confess that from time to time I still wonder what truly happened the day that Simha and I spoke to the gods. #### About the author: Kira Bacal is a physician and scientist who has worked at NASA and the US Senate, among other odd and wonderful places. She currently lives among towering trees in New Zealand with her two children and a vandalism-prone Leonberger.