Read The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix Online

Authors: Ava D. Dohn

Tags: #alternate universes, #angels and demons, #ancient aliens, #good against evil, #hidden history, #universe wide war, #war between the gods, #warriors and warrior women, #mankinds last hope, #unseen spirits

The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (33 page)

Yet here they were, she sitting her horse,
preparing to do
diplomatic
battle, to make contest over what
should never have been questioned - the freedom of the heart. But
no, it must be contested, because
rulership
demands slavery
of the heart to a ruler, lawmaker - whether to an evil cruel
dictator or a kindly benevolent dictator - it still meant slavery
to someone. Lowenah had not created it within her children to be
ruled over, to be made slaves. They were free people; all men were
created to be free. That is what made her children so different
from the other creations of flesh. Her children were the masters
over the other’s souls.

What then was so difficult for her children
to understand? Should freedom be stolen, whether by good or evil,
that loss of freedom would eventually lead to chaos of the heart,
and eventually the destruction of all living things, possibly all
material creation. Could her children not grasp that one little
truth? No overlord could become master over another, by choice or
dictation, without eventually destroying the very fabric of the
universe. Freedom must be satisfied or all things would fail.

Pausing in thought, Lowenah nodded,
considering. She could change things. She had grown in
understanding since the beginning of time, the making of her
worlds. She could stop time, even reverse it. She could return her
universe back to the innocent days of bliss, rewrite its blueprints
and redesign its very structure. Then she could start over, rebirth
all her children exactly as she had done before, for she had their
signatures preserved inside her mind. She could reproduce them
exactly as they had been before. And she need not sweep time aside
and return to its beginning to do it.

No! Lowenah had the power to stop time where
it was now, then back it up to the last age, the last great
celebration. There she could freeze the moment, reach in to the
souls of each and every one of her children, and alter ever so
slightly the signature of Freedom’s meaning. She would hardwire her
creation differently so that they would never come to want, never
desire something they did not own, possess. Then she would fill
their hearts with joy and bliss to the point of overflowing, drug
their senses so that forever they would be thrilled with the
creations offered them.

Then, when the universe again rested in the
cradle of satisfaction and peace, Lowenah would gather her being to
a self-induced forgetfulness, and when she awoke would remember not
the evil done over this past vile age, or the wickedness of her
children, or the treachery of her most cherished son. She smiled.
Yes, yes, it could be done, and with ease, and freedom would become
relative to life, not such an important thing, and no one would
know.

Lowenah frowned.
They
would know. The
Powers beyond the universe, the silent Watchers would know. Never
would they speak about it to her, not a word, but she would know
that they knew that she betrayed everything she was about, for she
had made them in her carefree days, made them from herself, her
very fabric, Immortals beyond Immortals, with her mind and soul
inside them. Forever they would accuse her of the evil she had
committed. To steal freedom from those who had no power to resist?
She could not change them, bring them into a current forgetfulness,
or even pass them along into eternal darkness, for they are as
immortal as she. As are her days, so are theirs. They would ever be
her reminder of evil done.

Yet, that was not the worst of matters. How
could she forever live with herself? A shudder ran down her back.
Might she not destroy the very universe in her anguish over being
the greatest of all thieves? Her son could only steal the body in
death, the hope of a return far beyond his grasp. She could steal
the very mind and heart of any and all her children, and would if
she carried out such a dastardly scheme as her heart currently
entertained. Oh, the villainy of a twisted heart!

No! No! The pain of all matters must be
allowed to come to its own finish. The heart must break, be broken,
for if it does not break with knowledge, it cannot grow with
wisdom. The heart will heal with time - her heart - and that wisdom
attained can lead her creation to even greater heights. Are not the
scars the greatest tribute to valor in the battle fought? Is not
the hour of deepest despair and greatest dread the most oft tale
told when around the campfire where one safely sits? And is not the
smallest coin lost in time of great need the grandest treasure to
be sought after and celebrated when found?

Then what was the Maker of all things
missing? What was her mind failing to comprehend regarding the
great equation of life? What elemental fact was escaping her? Was
freedom of lesser import than she had assumed? Lowenah puzzled. Why
had the fabric remained so strong when even her most loyal children
submitted their very being to a king, a very frail foolish king,
become her willing slaves? Michael did not fraction the power of
the universe, but strengthened it. How? It was not her great wisdom
or might. Wisdom the child lacked in sufficient amount to make her
foolish at times, and her might was given her by the people who
became her servants.

Lowenah smiled, hope growing in her heart.
It was the Third Element that must move her children to allow their
enslavement to a cause, or a person. It mattered little.
When
principled love… to do the right thing… was the motivating force,
then there was no slavery
. How could she have missed it, the
very Creator of the fabric that held together the universe and
everything within it, how?

Lowenah chided herself, recalling her own
proverb. ‘A tricksy heart will make even the wise act foolishly.’
Here was the answer:
It was not the mind knowing that one must
do the right thing, it was the heart feeling the necessity to
follow a certain course to its end that made the right thing
happen. Even if her children knew not in their minds what to do,
their hearts filled with the Third Element, this Love, would cause
them to do the right thing. This, no matter the sacrifice to attain
it, was freedom, freedom of choice, freedom of the heart.

The people gathered here on this day had all
made choices. It was their freedom to do so. Whether one chooses to
live a slave or die a free man is still a choice. Was not the
choice to do good or ill a freedom given to each and everyone of
her children? Had she not made them gods over their own being, to
choose good or ill, life or death for themselves? It was when that
freedom encroached upon another that the Judge of Heaven and Earth
must step in, not to
prevent
freedom, but to
protect
the innocent from enslavement. The slave here this day was anyone
held against his or her will, in spirit or body.

Lowenah, the greatest of Potentates, had
come here this day to put the universe on notice, that no forced
slavery would be forever tolerated. Today she was going to
demonstrate that freedom, bought at whatever the cost, was a
treasure greater than all other things. She would show her children
that to do the right thing was supreme, no matter the pain or
sorrow… no matter the breadth or depth of tribulation. In the end,
if the right thing has been done, the Third Element will heal the
universe and all the souls within it.

Suddenly the sun broke clear of the little
cloud. Lowenah looked up, smiling. Not by chance had this moment
come and passed. Other powers, Powers she often ignored, stood
vigil over her and all her treasures, especially over her heart.
Even she had lessons to yet learn, riddles to understand. The game
was not over. All knowledge was not yet hers. These stealthy Powers
had reminded her of that. ‘Carry it on to the finish, for there is
where you will find the prize. See it through, and stay on course.
You will succeed.’

Lowenah smiled, acknowledging an
oft-forgotten truth. She was not alone unless she chose to ignore
the Whispering Spirits. They lived for her, not because they had
been made that way, but because they
choose
to be that way.
Made more of the Third Element were they than she often cared to
understand. Never did they fail. Never would they, nor would they
allow her to fail, ever...

Staring into the sun, Lowenah’s mind raced
with future thoughts. The hour was yet come, would come for a
certainty. Shiloh would arrive, and she would fall in love again,
forgetting forever her former lover. Peace would return to her
universe, but this time it would be tempered with wisdom and
knowledge of just how precious and tenuous it really is. Her
children would be filled with an understanding that a thousand ages
of peace would have never been able to teach. The Third Element
would no longer be taught as an abstract philosophy, but as
something real to be sought for like a hidden treasure.

Lowenah looked up into the deep blue sky,
her heart unburdened of its former gloom. Today was pivotal, but
still it was only one more step up the long stairway to the
everlasting Samayim. “
Come my children, and we shall together
tread the stairway to Heaven, to reach our destiny in the near
beyond where all will find everlasting delight in dreams
fulfilled
.”

She looked over the heads of her loyal
children to the man standing as her adversary, his evil, shadowy
presence shrinking before her eyes. Yes, even his great wickedness
was but momentary and light, so weak and insignificant in
comparison to the bright light of Love, as quickly as the darkest
gloom filling the land can be swept away by a tiny spark far off in
the distance. Evil, where is your strength? How quickly you will
fade when the day dawns new!

Lowenah grinned, her heart beating with hope
renewed. It was a new dawning bringing with it the distinct scent
of rebirth. True, the storm must yet pass, but the freshness of the
after-breath was carried on the breeze. Sucking that breath in, she
filled her lungs with its intoxicating essence. This day was the
sunrise of coming eternity. What a joy! It felt so very good to be
alive!

 

* * *

 

Mihai came to a stop some five paces from
the opposing line, she and her diplomatic body of a dozen or so
councilors and armed escorts facing Asotos and his party. Off to
her left and behind were the soldiers, some dressed in fancy,
decorated armor while others were helmed and cloaked in gray.

A lead teamster shouted his commands to the
horses, struggling, pulling hard on the reins. He managed to bring
them to a standstill before plowing into Asotos’ entourage, but
little more than that, only two paces separating them.

Asotos silently fumed. These beasts were
QuanSandoos, powerful draft animals of immense proportions, being
well over eighteen hands at the shoulders. The wheeled wagon they
pulled was even taller. No way could the teamster back up. Not only
were the wheels sitting deep in the sand, the following teams’
noses were nearly touching the back of the lead wagon. It was also
the same for the following team, and the one behind it. “What
clowns! Oh, why did the fools bring wheeled machines?!” he muttered
under his breath.

Frustrated, Asotos attempted to see beyond
the horses to the people on his left. Impossible! Other than
Lowenah who sat astride ReaBhemah, her upper body visible above the
obstructions, blinded he was to everyone else. Little there was
that he could do except to call a halt, demanding the lead team be
removed from the scene…too time consuming...or, direct his people
to step back several paces… too intimidating! Never! That
determined, he decided to accept his fate, pondering some way to
turn it to his advantage.

He glared at Lowenah, cursing her in his
mind. Lowenah stared back, her face expressionless. Suddenly her
horse reared, startled, its head snapping back as it stepped to its
side. An explosive sound like a thousand hypnotically musical
cymbals crashed upon Asotos’ ears, he wincing as if in pain from
the onslaught, followed quickly by another crashing assault, and
then another. Regaining control of her mount, Lowenah looked
apologetically at Asotos, he angrily staring at her.

Darla had been standing quietly beside
Lowenah, holding ReaBhemah’s reins, when a large blowfly took a
bite out of her just behind the knee. Instinctively, the woman
swatted it, pulling hard on the horse’s reins as she twisted her
body in doing so. That was the first concussive blast from the
bells dancing upon her breasts. The second blast came when
ReaBhemah bolted in surprise, the animal yanking Darla backward as
it reared its head.

As all this unfolded, Ardon stepped forward,
aghast, crying out in his thoughts. ‘Fool! Little Fool! You’ll mess
it all up!’ Anxious, the man grabbed hold of Darla’s arm, shaking
her in the process. That was the third crescendo of tinkling blasts
to hit Asotos’ ears. Lowenah glanced a warning at Ardon, her eyes
telling him to leave the girl go. Inside she laughed to herself,
‘Got a good dose that time! Keep him distracted for a while...’

The crashing of the bells tore through
Asotos’ mind. His brain raced with haunting memories, the practiced
cries of ecstasy from a young woman to pacify greedy priests who
desired repeat customers to keep fat purses filled. No beatings
today if she performed well. Oh, how Asotos had reveled in her
passionate songs, how much he had wanted her for himself to
experience her in the flesh...not through the possessed soul of
some drunken worshiper. Those bells, those damned bells flooded his
memory with hopeless desires, of wishes denied!


Witch! Evil witch!
’ He screamed out
in his mind to Lowenah. “Queen over the crawling things you
are...treacherous and evil, the
true
Beelzebub!”

Silence…

Lowenah raised an eyebrow, her piercing eyes
assaulting Asotos’. ‘
Beelzebub?
Beelzebub? Interesting... At
one time the servants of Iam called me ‘Beelzeboul’, ‘Owner of the
Lofty Abode.’ I believe you call it the ‘Powers of the Inner
Palace.’ The children of Hormax stole that name from me, giving it
new meaning, one
you
willingly accepted for yourself, ‘Lord
of the Flies,’ or… let me see… oh, yes, ‘Keeper of the Dung
Heap.’’

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