The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (75 page)

Gathering her wits, she made her way through
the opened doorway, stopping near the foot of the bed. Such a
mysterious light! Its energy was everywhere yet nowhere. Again,
memories from forgotten night dreams flooded the girl’s mind.
Somewhere she had seen this light before, its soothing radiance so
healing yet puzzling. As if compelled by an unseen force, the girl
went in a search to find the source of this beautiful blaze.

After digging first in this corner and then
in that one, the child stooped down on hands and knees, searching
under the bed. Something was so wonderfully strange and familiar
about all this. She had done this before, rummaged about in an
attempt to make this same discovery. The child paused. She could
recollect a voice calling out to her while in its pursuit.

“Ishtar…” Panic gripped the girl. She slowly
sat back on her knees. Someone was speaking, just like in her
half-forgotten dreams.

“Please, my daughter, my blood. It is the
one who loves you so.”

Mother?! No. No. It was not her mother’s
voice. Terrified, yet mesmerized, her hand over a pounding heart,
Ishtar waited to hear the voice again.

“Ishtar, my lovely one, it is come the hour
of the wine song.”

It was such a beautiful voice, so hauntingly
sweet, an angel’s voice. Sudden panic raced through her body. It
was told her that the Devil could turn himself into an angel of
light. Was he or one of his machinations calling out to her? It
might be so. Still, curiosity was getting the best of her. She must
take a look at the person behind the voice.

Haltingly, the girl stood, her stare
concentrated toward the wall beyond her bed. As she built up the
courage to turn about and see whether it be demon or angel in her
presence, a strange, tingling feeling circled the crown of her
head, it gradually drifting down through her neck and into her
heart, there to set it ablaze with a pulsing beat as if another
soul were entered to sing an enchanting love song.

“My child...” The voice whispered.

Closing her eyes, with clenched fists,
Ishtar cautiously turned about. For what seemed an eternity, she
faced whatever might be standing in the doorway, too terrified to
open her eyes to see the fate waiting there. Eventually, curiosity
overcame trepidation. Forcing unwilling eyelids opened, the girl
stood aghast, staring into a placid face with two emerald green
eyes passionately searching hers. Putting a hand to her mouth,
screaming, the girl fell backward, crashing hard upon the bed.

Ishtar had steeled her heart to see a
hideous demon beast with horns and bloodied fangs, or possibly some
evil trickster with sordid mischief on its mind, but not this,
never this! Covering her face with her hands, she cried out in
desperation as horrid visions flooded her mind, “Go away! Go away!
You are not real, cannot be real!”

More abominable than the worst of her
nightmares this monster was, its feminine beauty so divine that the
child believed her heart was to burst. While Ishtar’s soul pained
with consuming passionate desire, her head raced with grotesque
nightmares and reawaking dreams of unspeakable tortures. Shaking in
fear, she gradually lowered her hands, her heart craving to chance
another look upon this woman creature divine. Tears streaming down
her face, she sobbed, “You are not real.... You cannot be real...
It cannot be so... It cannot be so! A dream is all you are. A
dream, a dream I say...”

“A dream?” came the soft reply. “Yes, a
dream… a
dream
who swore an oath to you so long ago. Across
time and space we have journeyed to share this moment, to sing the
wine song.”

“Who…who
are
you?” Ishtar asked,
timidly.

Stepping forward, the woman extended a hand.
“My Lord, please, take this time the gift I offered you so long
ago. Enjoy the reward for all your hard labors.”

Ishtar was uncertain, but what else could
she do? If she cried for help, who would arrive to give it?
Besides, this person must be in league with them. She slowly stood
and cautiously took a step toward this mesmerizing creature, again
asking, “Who are you, and why do you call me ‘lord’?”

The woman lowered her gaze, staring at the
floor, a troubled expression growing on her face. “You are become a
god, arrived to release us from our shame, for it was said to us
long ago that the ‘least would become great and the servants should
gather their strength as mighty kings’. You, my lord, have arrived
here to deliver us into a new day and return to us our lost
glory.”

Ishtar was only more confused by this
woman’s confessions. “This I do not understand! Why does the
governor wish my assistance in anything at all? Does he not already
wield the greatest of armies the world has ever seen? Besides, a
woman stands no place near the throne of power in this world.”

The woman cocked her head in bewilderment,
puzzling over Ishtar’s surprising response, asking, “Do you not yet
know where you are?”

Ishtar frowned. “Do you play tricks with me?
A prisoner I am, the governor’s private guard watching over this
place. Secreted away during a poisoned sleep, I was delivered to
this strange world, and only lying riddles and bewitching visions
have I witnessed since arriving. You! Tell me where I am and who
you are so that this
least one
may make an honest reply to
you.”

So the child did not know where she was...
This complicated matters, the woman expecting to be greeted by
welcoming arms. What did the girl know? “Do you not remember our
last meeting?”

The face Ishtar recalled, but where and
when? Searching her thoughts, she slowly nodded. “A dark,
foreboding place I recall - terrible and evil a place it was. Your
face I see, you standing in the midst of that ruin, this strange
light shining all about me and...and it was also glowing within
you. But whether a person fair or foul you are, I do not
recall.”

The woman slowly nodded with understanding.
“You ask me who I am. This same question was on your lips at our
last meeting. I said then, ‘the Child of Pain, for with birth pangs
this world conceived me’. So my name I cursed and delivered to pits
of dense darkness, taking up the blade of vengeance to salve my
tormented soul. ‘Darla’,
the gryphon’s mistress
, a name of
my choosing is what I became, offering up my virginity to the
demons of war, my breasts giving suck to the ever-hungry pits of
Sheol.”

As Darla confessed long-hidden secrets, her
breath drifted cold upon the evening air, chilling Ishtar’s flesh
while burning her heart with pity’s remorse. Clouds of doubt still
swirled about in the girl’s head, but no longer did she believe
this Darla woman to be an agent of evil. Only an honest soul could
reveal such anguish, the longing for acceptance being shouted out
to the heavens by every word coming from her lips, while the pain
of wistful hope denied seeped from her every silent expression. If
this was truly so, then why the horrid visions racing about in the
girl’s head when she peered into the face of this holy
creature?

Seeing Ishtar’s hesitance and bewilderment,
Darla lifted a hand, pointing a finger. “On a day so wickedly dark
we both wish to forget its existence, a purse of gold and a gift of
freedom I offered to you… and you refused them both, choosing
instead a road that eventually led you to this place. Many people
you saved on that day, yet at a bitter price paid. I am come this
day to offer you what little I can. No gold do I have but, for
freedom from the chains that bind your mind and heart, I seek to
provide release.”

Confused, Ishtar asked, “My mother...will
you reveal to me where she is and why she has not come to visit
me?”

Darla frowned, making a cryptic reply. “You,
alone, know these answers, although they hide in deep shadows
within your soul. Together we can search to find where she is and
why you have journeyed far to this place. Memories you have that
must awake before the chains that bind you will shatter. Better it
is that two companions travel such a road, companions sharing each
others’ dreams and visions.”

Pressing the issue, Ishtar asked, “So you do
know my mother and of her whereabouts? Tell me if you know.”

Closing her eyes so as to not reveal
secrets, Darla nodded as she did, adding, “Your mother and your
father I have known, or known of. So much they have loved you,
still do. In secret places, your mother resides for the moment,
safe from the harm of any man or beast.”

“
Then where is she?”
Ishtar demanded,
not appreciating this riddling with her at all. “And when will I be
taken to her?”

Paying little heed to the girl’s headstrong
attitude, Darla quietly answered, “When Gradian’s Clock chimes on
glory’s hour then shall all the gods gather the sojourners together
to ride triumphantly through the holy city. The answers to your
questions lay locked within your mind. You are your own riddler,
because any man awake would already know the answer. Take my hand
and I shall help you unlock what remains sequestered behind chained
and bolted doors. Choose quickly, for the hour is growing late and
the magic of this place will soon sleep in restful
forgetfulness.”

It was Ishtar’s turn to frown. This game was
definitely not to her liking. She wanted simple, quick answers with
easy, simple replies. Instead, she was receiving a chorus of sweet,
musical chatter that made little sense to her at all. But what else
was there for it? If this Darla woman was being honest with her -
and she believed it to be so - the girl must play the game the
woman’s way.

Shrugging in surrender, Ishtar answered,
“You speak with mystery upon mystery, witching hours, magic clocks
and holy cities, all too confusing, all too confusing, but seeing
you have the upper hand, I will trust that you are truthing me.
What must I do to satisfy your whims?”

Darla ignored Ishtar’s final statement and
smiled while sweeping her hand toward the foot of the bed. “First,
please, clothe yourself with the garments I have delivered to my
lord this night.”

Ishtar was shocked speechless as she turned
and stared down, transfixed, at a beautiful sleeveless gown spread
out before her. Where did it come from? She had not noticed it
until this moment. Then her eyes were drawn to two brooches
festooning the gown’s shoulder straps.

“Here.” Darla stepped forward, picking up
the gown. “Come here and I will assist my lord with this.”

Ishtar did not move.

Holding the gown with both hands, her eyes
requesting the girl to come along, Darla offered, “I shall tell my
lord a tale of wonder worth hearing if she will favor me with my
request.”

Although hesitating at first, Ishtar’s
desire to hear a mysterious story was too great to pass up. While
Darla assisted the girl off with her robe, back on with the gown,
bejeweling her, doing up her hair and finally applying the most
delicate of makeup, she went on to weave her tale.

“There was a child born in a distant land at
a faraway time, a child so beautiful that the very gods fell in
love with her. Hiding in the clouds, they watched with pleasure as
the child grew into a woman divine, her beauty having grown great
also within her heart. This did not please everyone. Others hiding
in shadowy places became angry, seeking a convenient time to do the
child mischief.”

“Eventually the hour of opportunity arrived.
The demon gods swept the world with their evil breath, turning the
hearts of men wicked so that terrible deeds they did to innocent
people who loved the Maker of Worlds. In those days there was a
man, a great leader among his people, who was like a father to this
child… for the child’s father was no more. This man was imprisoned
by the rulers of that world because they feared the things he
spoke. These rulers conspired together to bring this man and all
his people to ruin. So they took the child and delivered her up to
the crowds in order to make the man call down evil upon the Maker
of Worlds with oaths and curses. But the girl refused to play the
Devil’s game, instead bringing shame upon the world of men… and
destruction upon herself.”

Ishtar asked, excited, “What did she do?
Tell me, what did she do?”

Darla warned her not to speak as she
carefully applied red balm to the girl’s lips. “Long is the tale if
I revealed it all to you. War broke out in the Heavens, blood was
shed, and gods, good and evil, fell to sword and arrow. In the end,
the child was delivered up to the good victors who swaddled her in
silken wraps and set her adrift upon the seas of Time. But of that
part of the tale I must save for another day. Now allow me to go
on.”

“While the child slept upon Gradian’s Ocean,
the world of her day slipped under the ever-shifting sands.
Kingdoms rose and fell, men were born, grew up, grew old, and
passed on, over and over, until the child’s city lay in dust and
ruins, its history cloaked in mystery and myths. The selfless deeds
of the child, too, were forgotten by men, but not by the gods who
waited anxiously upon the witching hour.”

“When the child finally waked, she found
herself residing in a strange land far from home. Afraid she was
because she refused to believe what happened to her, keeping it
locked deep within her mind. She refused to believe that Death had
ruled as king over her flesh. Oh yes, others had become slaves to
it, but not she! No indeed! It was impossible to believe that
someone could escape Death. It was so final, a king allowing no
escape from his prison.”

Ishtar interrupted, laughing. “How foolish a
child...” She then looked at Darla, asking, “Do you believe, as I,
that death has no hold on a person, a promise my God has given
those who pass away in it?”

Darla smiled, nodding that she did.

Wondering, Ishtar asked, “So, the child, did
she finally accept that Death had found her door, and that she
stood upon the edge of a new world?”