The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (69 page)

Rubbing his bearded chin, Drorli studied the
machine’s engine, Jebbson lifting the cover for him to get a better
look.

As he did, Jebbson filled him in on some the
details. “I’ve designed this engine to burn just about anything
that is combustible – raw, pressed oil, alcohol, wood gas, flour
dust if necessary, anything...”

Drorli nodded approvingly.

“Yep...adjustable compression, valve timing,
interchangeable carburetion injection systems, just to name a few
of the items incorporated in this machine.”

Drorli asked, curious, “Why not modify or
use what we already have?” He pointed toward the two other vehicles
silently drifting to a stop behind the carriage.

“You make wonderful machines,” Jebbson
confessed. “expensive, complicated, and time consuming to build and
repair. That’s why so many of your old relics from bygone days have
been pressed back into service, like those antiques there.” He
pointed at the two anti-gravity autos. “Those things are well over
two hundred years old, been rebuilt, God only knows how many times.
Takes weeks just to get a new one off the line. How are we going to
build a million of ‘em in time for this coming war? If you have
hidden facilities to do it, please inform me of them and I’ll stop
production on these contraptions of mine tomorrow.”

Drorli agreed, acknowledging Jebbson’s
remarks, grinning. “I don’t believe even
God
knows how many
times those machines have seen a rebirth! I don’t believe she cares
to know. That’s why she’s delivered your kind here, to help us get
out of our old, reliable, stuck-in-the-mud ways, and learn to adapt
to your new and exciting, often dangerous ways.”

A shout from a man stepping out of the lead
gravity car stopped the conversation. “Do you play all day at games
of words while work needs being done? Come and give the lady a hand
with her packages. There’s more than a few.”

The
lady
was already busy opening the
rear panel on the third vehicle, a rather squat, boxy machine that
was currently in use as a postal truck. She poked her head out from
behind the truck, thanking the man for his consideration.
“Apollonius, my sweet darling, never mind those thoughtless boys
and come here and give your mistress in distress a hand.”

Drorli shouted back a good-natured retort to
the woman. “Is it now the charming ewe that chases the buck? Sweet
Chasileah, doth your haunting refrains of endearment from
yesterday’s eve fall from the tree of love as does the greenery of
the forest so die to brown and drift away into forgetfulness?”

Suan, who was holding Apollonius’ hand as he
assisted her down from the machine, looked back at Chasileah,
piping in, “I told you he was smooth of tongue, didn’t I?
Apollonius can do that to you, cloud your dream shares so that you
forget who you’ve been with and when…”

Drorli feigned a frown. “My little Suan,
that is not at all what I recall when we were entwined in each
other’s romance as the springtime sun broke through the eastern
tower windows.”

After stepping to the ground, Suan shrugged,
pointing back toward Apollonius, who was walking over to assist
Chasileah. “When the wind is chill, to one cold and naked, any
shawl will do. It was a long, lonely night I endured whilst my man
hid himself away with the jungle witches of EthoHule. You were a
convenient
shawl
, warm and comfortable, but, oh for the
heated passion of Apollonius!”

Drorli began to protest, explaining the
difference between a sweet interlude of gentle romance and the
heated rush of a buck in rut. As he went on in his defense,
Chasileah approached, gently pushing a small package into his hands
while kissing him hard on the lips. “Oh hush, you!” She kissed him
again. “You and that fellow are all the same.
Romance?
Only
after you’ve rutted to satisfaction... The difference with him is
that he’s honest enough to admit his desires openly, and, when he
takes his ewe, plays at love not like a game but with a desperate
earnestness.”

Pouting, Drorli asked, dejected, “Then my
love is seen as only shallow, a ritual of tradition, a performance
to satisfy the customs of this world?”

Chasileah kissed him again, watching the
gleam in his eyes as she answered, “You beg for my bed through
pleasant prose, innuendos, and flirting glances, hinting at the
desires buried in your heart. That man flirts with his open speech
and the gentle touch of his fingers, then, like the rolling,
unstoppable tide wraps me up in his passion, singing loves songs
without rhyme or prose, but with abandon of feeling.”

She cupped her hands over Drorli’s, looking
down at the package he was holding. “A gift for my wild stallion,
my fox on the chase... I know the fire burns bright in your heart
for my love.” She glanced over her shoulder where Apollonius and
the others were piling packages onto a cart. Looking back at Drorli
and up into his eyes, she confessed, “I’ve missed your touch these
many nights, you being so busy with things and I about in this
delivery business. It’s been awhile since we been together -wanted
to linger in your company that day at the spaceport, but had duties
in Oros to attend to.”

Symeon arrived near the end of this amorous
sparring. It rankled him to see so much
open cavorting
, the
seemingly endless game of
musical beds
, this one tonight,
and another one tomorrow. Then to think that Hanna and Drorli had
romanced each other the night after coming here to attend to the
needs of his little girl…? Now, here Drorli was wrapped up in
seductive panderings with another woman, and Hanna watching from
the nearby porch. Did he have any consideration for the woman’s
feelings?

Symeon indignantly harrumphed. “The day is
wasting away and my child is lost in that desolate wilderness out
there somewhere! Games of ‘chase the rabbit ‘can come another time.
Help has arrived. Now let’s be about our business.”

Drorli and Chasileah both turned their
attention to their protagonist as Eurawah stepped up beside Symeon,
wrapping her arm about his and pulling close. She cooed softly in
the fellow’s ear, her warm breath caressing his skin. “The Prince
of saints surely knows that time is well in hand to accomplish all
needed tasks. Your presence alone will make this day a
success.”

Symeon’s face flushed red as he was caught
up speechless by Eurawah’s intoxicating refrains and sensual touch.
How could this be? He loved Hanna so much, more than life, but this
woman, Eurawah, not only inflamed his passions, but also made his
heart flutter with smitten stirrings, causing a struggle to awake
within him as to who he loved more. Why? To love two or more women
at the same time, each equally but differently? Not possible! Yet
were not the books of his peoples’ history filled with songs of men
loving many women at the same time? Too much for this fellow to
think about at the moment, he hesitantly thanked Eurawah for her
kindness. He then asked again, this time more politely, “Shouldn’t
we be about our business of rescuing Ishtar? After all, that’s what
this is all about, isn’t it?”

Drorli agreed, smiling while casting his
gaze toward the eastern hills. “I should have warned you to come by
way of the northern road and park behind the barns out there at the
edge of the village. Our girl was hiding not far from here. When
she saw those two gravity trucks, she panicked and went off
screaming. She’s heading off for the eastern wood right now.”

“Made it all the way there...” Hanna called
out, glancing back at the machines inside the building. “Hiding
under the boughs of a giant hemlock in the deep forest at the
moment...”

“Let’s gather our stuff and meet back here.”
Drorli suggested. “There’s a cold front approaching, bringing with
it a nasty storm. I want our charge back home before it
strikes.”

By the time everyone was ready, another two
carriages were arrived, bringing up the total in the rescue party
to twelve. The man who Apollonius met at Jem’s Tavern came in the
last machine. He felt so out of place, and looked it, too, dressed
up in the colorful official attire from long ago. Everyone one was
polite, but the occasional raised eyebrow and smirk made the man
feel all that more uncomfortable.

At last he asked, nearly begging, “Must I
wear this? The girl will cast aspersions upon me if we should meet.
Must she also be filled with dread at seeing her evil
torturer?”

Drorli stepped forward and rested a hand on
the man’s shoulder. “My friend, I would not cause you such anguish
as you currently feel if it was not out of necessity, and possibly
for the girl’s safety. The hour is short, intentionally so. It is
nearly dusk. Ishtar fears us only out of uncertainty. You represent
the authority absolute for your day for her. To the point of death,
she would obey you, for that is what her reason demands of her. She
will listen to you.”

Dismayed, the man asked, “Is there no other
way to bring her back?”

Drorli frowned as he shook his head. “No, I
think not. I did hope the child’s angel, Darla, would be able to
assist us, but she’s off with her fellow and I have no idea when
she will return. For now, it’s us and you.”

Apollonius started up a gravity machine, its
quiet whirring drifting upon the gentle breeze. Chasileah motioned
to some of the others and started for the machine. Drorli called
out after her, “My enchantress, your sweet refrains will charm the
child’s spirit, soothing her soul into willful submission. Oh, how
bewitching is the hart calling out her love to the sky.”

Chasileah stopped, calling back, “And will
also the wolf grow hungry tonight for the songs the lonely hart
cries out upon the breeze? I do hope so...”

Drorli laughed. “Be careful the feral beast,
for its hunger ever grows at the temptress’ call!” Smiling
seductively, Chasileah turned and hurried to the machine.

Drorli and the others started for the road.
They were going to walk into the wood, coming in from the west.
Chasileah and her crew were taking the road out of the village,
north and around about to the south and come in to the forest from
the east, hoping to persuade Ishtar to head back toward the
village.

A shout from the building stopped the others
up. Jebbson came running down the walkway dressed up in similar
fashion as the man. He grinned, shouting, “Found this old costume
in the wardrobe. Thought you might want some company, to make you
look more official...”

Staring Jebbson up and down, the man finally
pointed a finger at him. “A blind beggar would know you’re an
imposter, but if you insist to go along, stand up and look
important, and keep your mouth shut. One word from you and Ishtar
will know this is all a sham.”

Jebbson bowed low, extending his hand. “Your
servant...”

Everyone had a hearty laugh as Jebbson did a
dance, pirouetting about as he sung a little ditty. Drorli put an
end to matters, hurrying everyone along. As the party passed by the
parked machines, the man bent low to take a look at one of the
gravity trucks. His offhanded comments regarding this strange world
got everyone to laughing again. As the sun drifted into shadow, the
village street was quiet once more, the eager party disappearing
into the gathering darkness.

* * *

Long had the sun’s power waned when the
spidery, gray clouds began creeping across the darkening sky.
Ishtar peeked out from under the boughs of her hiding tree only to
groan in despair. The smell carried on the quiet breeze warned of a
coming storm, the clouds threatening harbingers of its arrival. Her
feet hurt from the wild, panicked flight, and her stomach ached
from hunger, having not eaten for many long hours.

Ishtar was tired, torn, bruised and
distraught. Her housecoat, which was of little protection from the
previous night’s chill, was not much more than tatters, leaving the
girl all but naked. Why had they not come to recapture her? Was
there some reason hidden to her that kept them from entering this
forest? She shuddered at the thought of terrifying beasts, or an
evil necromancer, or possibly the cannibalistic Cyclops’s her
father once told her about!

“
Screech-a-chk-chk-chee-screech!”
A
bone-chilling shriek coming from the deeper wood echoed through the
forest.

With a cry, Ishtar was up and running in a
panic for her life, paying no heed to brier or bush. As she
stampeded through the growing gloom, her foot chanced upon a
protruding root, catching the girl up and pitching her headlong
onto the hard forest floor, tearing away her shredded blouse when
she fell in a sliding crash. Sitting up, dazed, the child quickly
gathered her wits about her, ignoring the throbbing in her foot and
charged away down the trail.

Gathered her wits? Yes, but other things
were not considered in the rush of that moment. When she finally
came to a panting halt some distance from the foreboding of the
deep east wood, Ishtar realized her nakedness. Moaning in despair,
the girl looked longingly back down the trail. That garment, as
badly destroyed as it might be, represented her last and only means
of protection, a shield between her and the rest of the world. Now
she stood there exposed, totally vulnerable to all, a helpless
slave to the universe around her.

Ishtar was given little time to contemplate
her dilemma or whether she should attempt a rescue of her lost
garment. The sounds of the earlier screechy chatter drifted through
the air, telling the girl that whatever was making those noises was
also departed the deep woods. Without giving her night blouse
further consideration and forgetting her naked condition, Ishtar
took off in fright on a hobbling run, attempting to distance
herself from whatever evil creatures might be in pursuit.

The girl’s reckless desire to escape took
her off to the southwest, far from the trail she had taken earlier
that day. Here she could find no defined path, only seemingly
endless stands of hoary oaks punctuated with patches of thorny
thickets. Exhausted, Ishtar struggled to find her way in the
gathering darkness. The foreboding sky was now occasioning a white,
glowing flash of distant lightning far off on the horizon, warning
of the approaching storm.