by Ava D. Dohn
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Her nightmarish visions were only intensifying, haunting voices from the distant past crying out troubling words that stirred half-forgotten memories. All the while, ghostly shadows danced before the girl’s eyes - faceless shapes of ruthless men dragging along their captives, the screams of a little child as it was tossed through the air only to disappear into a gathering void filled with the ferocious roars of hungry cats. And then she saw a man begging for mercy being delivered to the same fate, except this time the girl was forced to watch, horrified, as the beasts consumed the man’s very being.
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.”
The girl was stunned into inaction, not knowing what to do. It was so surreal. This could not be happening! It must be a dream, but it was so vivid and real. The sword being held out shimmered in the golden shadows, the woman’s hands shaking ever so slightly in worried anticipation. What was Ishtar to do?
The woman lifted her gaze toward the child, her smoky gray orbs filled with pleading apprehension. “Free is the will of the heart of a Daughter Dragon. My child, the choice is but yours to make. Should you reject this destiny, then rescue will come from another source, but my kind shall fade away into the nothing shadows of forgotten dreams. Please breathe your life once again into your sisters so they may reclaim the darkness and bring to nothing the evils in the worlds below.”
Ishtar was perplexed. She was no child of violence and war, a weapon never being held in her hand. What was she to do? The desperation in the woman’s face tore at the girl’s heart, but she wanted no part in whatever future violence this vision or dream might portend. Looking into the woman’s hopeful eyes, she felt forced to take up the sword. Finally, nodding, she reached out and lifted the blade up from the woman’s hands.
Warm to the touch it was as she held the weapon flat in her hands. The shimmering rays pulsating along the polished steel blade warned her of its deadly beauty. There was hidden power within it, a glory far grander than what the greatest of swordsmen could muster with their own physical prowess. A force more ancient than the worlds of men was secreted beneath its glimmering surface. It was as if the sword, itself, was alive, having a breathing, thinking soul.
The platinum-white-haired woman spoke once more. “The hour is come to give your life’s breath to this blade. Arise and take your station beside your king as queen over Heaven, Earth and Hell. You, my Sister of the Bloodwind, bring to ruin the one who ruined you.”
The girl stood transfixed, unable to remove her gaze from the mesmerizing blade. At length, she took a hand and gripped the sword’s haft, holding it up straight before her. She could feel a hot, tingling energy begin to race from the weapon up her arm until it consumed her body with heated fiery radiance. Smiling with a new understanding of her future destiny, Ishtar lifted the blade high, her eyes looking skyward at its point.
“Kue Sautta Boonhii!” She cried out to the morning darkness, not knowing what the words meant, but feeling a rush of e
nergy coursing through her body as she called them out to the sky.
A sudden eruption of blinding glory exploded from the blade, its thunderous sound deafening. When the girl regained her senses, why, there she stood in the empty darkness, alone, with only the circle of golden dust providing any light. The sword, woman, and all the armies that stood on the plain were gone. A sudden gust of swirling wind caught up the golden dust, filling the air around the girl with its glow. A sweet, enchanting music drifted into her ears, a dreamy lullaby calling the child to gather to her rest. She slowly sank to the ground, lying in the center of golden light, quickly drifting off into a peaceful sleep, her head resting on a folded silken gown.
(Author’s Note: ‘Kue Sautta Boonhii’ is translated in the common tongue as, ‘So rises the morning darkness’. Though never fully revealed as to its true meaning, there are those who believe it sounded the beginning of the new Age of Darkness to fall upon the universe, it being similar to the term ‘it is always darkest before the dawn’. This explanation is fitting, considering future events soon to be delivered upon that world.)
