The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (25 page)

Terrorized, the girl screamed until she
believed her lungs were bursting, but no screams could she hear for
her mouth produced no sound. “Run! Run away as fast as you can!”
The girl’s mind shouted, but her feet refused to move, she standing
as if frozen, staring down into that horrid pit.

Suddenly, a hand appeared out of the
darkness. Withered and deformed it was. Then a kindly, fatherly
voice sounded upon her ears - a voice that filled the air with its
putrid breath. “Come, please, my little child. There is no need for
you to suffer such grief. Take my hand and allow me to whisk you
away to the safety of inner chambers so that I may comfort you.”
The air was suddenly cut by the sound of sinister laughter.

The girl’s nostrils filled with the
nauseating stench of rotted filth and evil death. She shrank away
from the grotesque shape rising out of the shadows whose hand ever
searched for the touch of living flesh. Whether it be demon or man,
she could not tell, but its smile was so familiar so as to stir
memories of nightmares past.

The mouth opened in the beast’s face,
breaking into a comforting smile. “Come, my lovely child…” The
fingers on the beast’s hand curled in a motioning appeal for her to
obey. “I will rescue you from all this, help you forget this evil
place. Back to you mother’s arms I will take you, back to her
safety.”

Shaking her head violently, the girl
screamed, “No! No! I cannot! Will not! Will not betray my God, the
one I love!”

Suddenly the girl’s heart burst free of
Panic’s grip. She stood tall and defiant, shouting, “I am a
free
woman, servant or slave to no man or demon!”

Instantly all sound stopped, the hungry
roars, the pleading voice, even the sound of the girl’s beating
heart in her ears. Everything around her froze into stillness, as
if all about her was nothing more than a painted mural of
frightening imagination. While staring dumbstruck at the scene, the
sound like crackling ice fell upon the girl’s ears. Then, suddenly,
without warning, everything about her exploded into countless
sparkling crystal shards, leaving the girl standing in a black,
oppressive void.

Ever so slowly, the stifling blackness faded
into a moonless night filled with the most beautiful of glittering
stars. The air was pleasant and the breeze refreshingly warm on the
girl’s naked skin. Gone were the foul odors and horrid sounds,
replaced with nature’s happy night songs and the smell of early
summer flowers, the quiet roar of a distant sea as its waves fell
upon the shore the only other sound to be heard. With a becalmed
heart and quiet breath, the girl waited for her eyes to gather in
what hid out in this evening darkness, for her spirit warned her
that she was not alone in this world, yet no dread did she feel
concerning it, only curious anticipation.

Then she heard it - the beautiful and
terrible sound of martial music. The moon awoke in the eastern sky,
rising as if in concert with the gathering strength of the
melodious storm. Searching, at last the girl caught sight of a
military band, its numbers beyond the counting of a child such as
herself. She stood on a small hillock, watching the marchers pass
by to the right and left until the crowd surrounded the hillock
many ranks deep. There they stopped, facing away from the girl. On
they played, one gloriously stirring tune after another, their
music filling the sky until the very earth shook in response to it.
But why had the marching band stopped here, at the base of this
knoll? It was a question soon answered.

The waxing moonlight suddenly revealed a far
vaster marshaling throng approaching from the north. Like the tide
from the sea, like a rushing, consuming wave they appeared to be,
until the entire land dissolved beneath their feet so that only the
little hillock stood above the mighty onslaught. Fearsome the
marching army of warriors was, hands filled with swords and pikes,
spears and bows, the golden light of the moon dancing upon their
helms and breastplates.

Awestruck the girl was, but even more so as
she continued to watch the unfolding events. For out of the
darkness arrived armies of people dressed as she had never seen
before in coats of gray, green and blue, some in colors mixed and
splotched with many hues, carrying long sticks that shot fire into
the sky while sending crashing thunders upon the girl’s ears. Mixed
in with the great host were mounted cavalry far too numerous to
number, and giant machines being driven along without horses, with
mightier sticks that shook the sky with thunderous voices.

On this vast company rolled. Clear to the
horizon and beyond, this wondrous military force marched, all the
while the countless voices of this host shouting out in chorus
fearsome words to the music being played by the band surrounding
the hillock. What a grand sight! What a grand sight! Never had the
girl witnessed such wonder. Oh, how fear-inspiring! Just as her
heart felt it could gather no more excitement within itself, sights
even more profound captured the girl’s attention.

There arose a tumult that took her breath
away. Feeling it at first in her toes, the vibration raced through
her feet and up her legs until it droned like countless flying
beasts in her head, sweeping over the land, drowning out the songs
and shouting cries of the army on its southerly march. Off to the
north, the sky was filling with moving shadows of giant winged
creatures in flight. In amazement, the girl searched to see what
kind of birds could gather in such numbers so as to fill the night
sky to the blotting out of the moon and stars.

She then let out a cry. Why, these were not
birds the likes of which she had ever seen, but birds, or flying
beasts, huge and powerful, machines of flight from the tales told
her from the ages of witches and demons, machines, the machinations
of the spirit world that rained down fire and destruction upon the
world of men! Yet no dread did the girl feel concerning them, only
profound awe regarding their size and number. What was this all
about? Such power and glory, what was it all about?!

Yes, what was this all about? The girl could
not be dreaming, could she? This was all too real… too real. If
this was a dream, what kind of a dream was it? An omen of the
world’s ending, some distant event from the ages long ago, or
future prophesies yet to be fulfilled? The girl wanted to know,
needed to know, but no one paused to explain to her what this was
about even when she cried out for answers to the marching throng.
On they went, singing out their mighty songs of war, yet paying no
heed to the girl’s inquiries. On and on the army marched, until it
looked to be the ocean itself was sent to consume the land. From
horizon to horizon, north to south and east to west, it filled this
world.

Finally, when the night had moved well along
and yet no ending was in sight for the passing of this great army,
and when the girl herself was feeling the fatigue of the long night
pressing in upon her, a shrouded figure emerged from the throng and
passed along and up the hillock toward the girl. As if walking from
a tunnel of light, the shadowy figure approached. At little more
than an arm’s reach, the person cloaked in darkness stopped.

The girl felt no fear, only wonder. She
cried aloud when she saw that the radiant light followed up from
behind until it entered and consumed the person standing there with
a golden brilliance brighter than the moon that still hung high in
the sky above. Gasping, the child looked into the most beautiful of
faces, it all set aglow by the gathering light.

A hand reached out to the girl, she in turn
doing the same. Fingers touched and intertwined. As they did, the
power of the light entered the girl so that she, too, became aglow
with its brilliance. Slowly the golden light faded and there,
before the child, stood a woman whose beauty betrayed her to be no
child of earth, her eyes hypnotic emerald-green, her brunette locks
the richest of burnished hue, and her skin the smoothest of silky
white. The girl shivered with quizzical consternation. The woman’s
face, her eyes, something about her was so familiar yet so
hauntingly mystical.

The woman, so youthful in appearance, but
with eyes that secreted tales from long-forgotten times, appeared
to be little older than the girl. She wore only a sleeveless, satin
gown, festooned by two silver brooches at the shoulders. The girl
knew this woman, or had known, or at least had dreamed of this
woman. Somewhere in a time past that her heart refused to recall,
the two had met, had made promises and given oaths, but when, the
girl could not recount.

“Ishtar...” The woman cooed so softly.

Ishtar?!
Ishtar?!
The girl swooned as
tumultuous dreams flooded her mind, the woman’s grip on her hand
the only thing preventing the girl from tumbling over.
Ishtar!
Now she remembered. That was her name! But how, who…
what was going on? So many troubling memories were now waking into
a confusing cacophony of jumbled recollections.

The woman gently squeezed the girl’s hand,
smiling, “Ishtar, we must talk.”

Shocked speechless by all that was going on
about her and inside her, the girl the woman called ‘Ishtar’ dumbly
nodded in reply.

The woman’s smile grew on her face as she
waited for the girl to gather her senses about her. At length, the
woman released the girl’s hand and retrieved from her bodice the
most beautiful of tooled leather purses, its clasps made of the
purest of silver inlaid with several tiny colored gemstones. The
purse popped open at a twist of the woman’s fingers, filling the
air with a cloud of brilliant golden dust that settled to the
ground about the two so that they stood in a pool of radiating
light.

The woman then retrieved a crystal cup from
the purse, filled with a wine that shimmered ruby-red in the golden
glow. Lifting it to her lips, the woman took a long sip and then
handed the cup to the girl.

“Here.” The woman requested, a pleading tone
being carried on her lips. “Take and drink with me this sharing
promise that I gave to you so long ago.”

Hesitantly, the girl reached out and took
the cup, holding it close to her lips, but she did not drink.

The woman reached out and took the girl’s
upper arm gently, her words filled with trepidation. “Please drink.
For me, my life, take this from me.”

She then frowned sadly. “Should I live
through this day, I will come and fulfill my vow to you to the
full, in reality, but give me hope now that your love is real for
me. Do this one thing so that my heart may lead me into wisdom. For
my hour is near, and death ever waits for me, panting at the
gate.”

She tipped her head in reply, “My sister...”
then lifted the cup to her lips and drank down all the wine.

Burning warmth coursed its way through the
girl’s body, filling her head with dizzying visions of love songs
to be sung. She stared at the woman, a passion growing in her heart
to hold this person, make her one with herself. As the strong drink
consumed her senses, the girl so much wanted to take this woman, to
make love to her in the way as a man would also find comfort with
her. The desire became overwhelming to the point that the girl
reached out to take the woman standing before her.

At that instant, the woman cried out in
orgasmic delight and faded into shadowy nothingness. Just as
quickly, the girl’s own sensual desires diminished, a warm
afterglow filling her heart and soul with fulfilled satisfaction.
Alone she now stood in the dancing light of the golden dust, the
breeze occasioning its grip to toss some of the glowing particles
into the air so that they merrily danced about the girl’s naked
feet. A sudden gust of wind caught up a swirl of the golden dust,
filling the girl’s eyes with a soothing light that made her eyelids
heavy. She slowly sank to the ground in a quiet sleep.

It was still dark when the girl awoke. The
moon was now sunk beyond the horizon and the sun was only beginning
its struggle over the eastern hills. The peaceful silence was
refreshing after such an uproarious night. The silence? The girl
jumped up expecting to see a world empty of men and machines.
Surprised she was to look out upon the vast army about her, but now
all the peoples of that army were stopped, turned, and silently
staring up at her. What was this all about?

Looking down the hill toward the north, the
girl saw a platinum-white-haired woman wearing an ornate battle
helm and dressed in a flowing silken gown decorated with sparkling
gems that twinkled like the stars, the gown covered by a
breastplate of glistening burnished armor. Suspended from a wide
bejeweled belt hung a large bastard sword with a hilt of gold and a
handle of carved ivory. Staring into the girl’s eyes, the woman,
her face appearing determined and solemn, continued to make her way
up the knoll. Stopping up close, the woman silently stared at the
girl until tears filled her eyes, her lips quivering in
sadness.

Quietly the woman reached down and drew the
sword from its glistening scabbard, the glow of the sword’s blade
radiating bright in the darkness of early morning. She then bowed
low on one knee, her eyes cast toward the ground while lifting the
sword high, flat across both hands, and extending it toward the
girl.

In a pleading voice reflecting dejected
sorrow, the woman made an impassioned request. “Please, my lord,
take from the hands of your humble servant this gift, my very
sword, born in the furnaces of secret worlds and forged by hands
older than the grandest mountains. Lead the armies you see standing
before you to the glory of this people. Restore to us our honor,
and give back to us what the Demon of Darkness has stolen. Forever
gone is our innocence, but for us, please, return to us our
souls.”