The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix

by Ava D. Dohn

  * * *

  Asotos smiled. Although no word had yet reached him concerning the fate of the Chisamore and the resulting troubling effects on Gabrielle, the harmonics of the universe delivered its sweet discord to his ears. ‘No help from that witch for her little darling this day.’ He mused with quiet laughter, ‘How hopeless it must be to stand the field alone when the heart ever wavers in fear and doubt.’

  At that moment, Asotos saw the person walking next to Mihai stumble into her side. Mihai’s body language, even from that distance, declared oh so much. The man laughed out loud. He turned to Legion, who stood his side, pointing while speaking in little above a whisper, “Right on the edge she is, ready to trip the cuckoo bird, and whoever it is standing her side is not her favorite this day. All the better for it...”

  Legion laughed, agreeing.

  The satisfaction of seeing the battle already won filled Asotos’ heart with gleeful joy. Patiently he had waited for these many years. The signing of the Treaty of Memphis, thus ending the Great War, giving the appearance that the League of Brothers accepted defeat, was little more than a ploy, buying Asotos time to develop his greatest of battle strategies. Today he would execute his ‘Coup de theos kenos’ (Lit: To throw down the vain [false] god into emptiness.) Before the sun set upon EdenEsonbar, his ships would be en route to that city, he preparing for the upcoming grand coronation of its new and rightful king. Erithia would be long gone from this universe, hoping that her departure would somehow save her little darling daughter. Asotos laughed again.

  Yes, for years this man had labored tirelessly to deliver up the Fates to this very hour. This grandiose campaign he had personally seen to. No one more capable to do the job was there than he, so he must be the one to do the job. Asotos smiled. From the remotest detail to the greatest of panoramas he, himself, had directed with the laborious finesse of an accomplished conductor orchestrating the finest of musical symphonies. Nothing would fail him this day, for he had been the creator of coming events!

  A frown suddenly swept Asotos’ face, carrying with it the tiniest wisp of uncertainty. He knew that Erithia and her rabble had a moot, strategizing for this coming day, they unable to anything without discussion and debate. He had made arrangements to have delivered to him any important information revealed there. Having been so absorbed in the final details of this mission, he had given little consideration to the matter until now as he examined the approaching host. Who stood Michael’s side as herald? Although it mattered little in his grand scheme, it should have not been left to him as a surprise. Maybe there were other minor points he should have been informed of. Someone had acted carelessly, or maybe there was treason afoot.

  Asotos eyes scanned the crowd. Yes! Yes, there was the culprit who failed in a most important mission. The man’s anger grew as he pondered the possibility of betrayal. This he would not, could not, permit to go un-addressed, no breach of trust tolerated! Such an infraction was never too tiny to be ignored… forgotten.

  A sudden change of breeze sent clouds of red, chalky dust drifting toward Asotos’ company. Soon silt-laden clouds of crimson filth drifted in upon the assembly, delivering irritation to eyes and throats. For Asotos, there also arrived wafting upon the air a panoply of odors and scents revealing secrets the eyes could not yet discern.

  The sweat of the horses and teamsters rose pungent in Asotos’ nostrils, but their power could not hide the more subtle nuances drifting in upon his senses. Several of the men - Ardon and PalaHar included - he could easily identify. He paid no heed to unknown male redolence, having not gathered many of them to his mind. On the other hand, Planetee, Anna, Michael and all the other women carried individual scents long recorded in his memory...all that is except of Erithia, which came as no surprise, her witchery covering every part of her nature, and...and two other women, their scents both strange and troubling to him.

  Lifting his head to gather more of the breeze, Asotos attempted to identify the source of those scents. Studying the nearing throng, he eyed the woman walking beside Michael, the same person she had recently contended with. Her gait was peculiar, a swagger of certainty and… and… independent defiance, an uncommon trait for most of the women in this world. Lifting a hand to cast the sun from his eyes, he searched in vain to recognize the woman’s face.

  Who might this stranger be? Suddenly it occurred to Asotos that this approaching officer must be the little child who troubled him so with her constant baby jabber and snooping, the little brat always under foot and getting in the way. She had been a total pest, Sirion even allowing the child entry to their bed during the late night hours. It might just be her all grown up. He smiled at the thought of the hunt anew, the capture of a young roe through beguiling prose, a game long ago abandoned, but so enjoyed with the charming, innocent babes - his personal little toys Erithia use to deliver to him.

  The smile fled Asotos face when his nostrils caught a wisp of a second unknown scent. Who would that person be? Was it only the witch’s trickery creating it? Possible... He strained to see off in Erithia’s direction, but the clouds of dust hid from him any definitive sight. Only hazy shapes of the advancing crowd could one observe behind the dust’s curtain.

  The breeze shifted ever so slightly, chasing away the haunting smell. At the same instant, the dust cloud parted so that Asotos could clearly see Erithia seated her horse. He clenched his fists, cursing under his breath. “Play your silly games, Witch Woman, thief of stolen treasures! This day is mine! I shall win it! I shall win it! Then watch and see my wrath reserved for those who have honored your evil!” His hands relaxed while a smile slowly crept across his face, thinking just how futile the Witch Woman’s tricks would be this day.

  A little dust devil whirled in from nowhere, gathering up and scattering gritty sand into the faces of Asotos and his officers. As suddenly as it appeared, the micro twister vanished in the desert heat, spiriting away the daunting breeze and all the womanly fragrances carried upon it. Before Asotos could take notice of it, though, a harmonic symphony of mesmerizing, chiming tunes crashed upon his ears. Surprise and consternation filled an impassioned heart as wanton eyes searched the shadowy forms hidden in the settling dust. As suddenly as the breeze had died, it sprang back to life with intensified energy, swirling and churning the dust skyward in thick, blinding clouds.

  Troubling half-forgotten memories ripped through Asotos’ mind like jagged lightning through a sky. His anger flashed as ghostly visions of passions denied raced through his body, bringing with them vivid recollections of stolen expectations soon to be replaced with hopeless frustration as the crimson haze blocked from his view those in Erithia’s van. He cursed the Queen of Evil under his breath, believing she was orchestrating some of her witchery at him.

  Oh, but it was all too late for Asotos. His mind released a tsunami of emotional tumult buried deep under an ocean’s locker of sunken feelings. How his heart began to pine with lonely desire for the one creature he ever wanted but had remained ever elusive to his touch! Fists clenched in growing rage as he thought of the woman’s murder before she could be brought into his world. He was so close...

  “Damn her! Damn her!” The man cursed under his breath. To steal the only woman of Earth he had ever taken a shine to and destroy her was unforgivable! The day would come when Gabrielle would pay, and pay dearly for this and the multitude of other atrocities she had fomented against him and his fellow innocents. Today! Today was only the beginning of his revenge.

  Asotos relaxed as he dreamed of future hours and coming days. Oh, the sweet anticipation of watching life slowly ebb from this usurping wench, Michael, while her saving mentor stands hopelessly by, impotent in her ability to even rescue herself. He laughed quietly thinking about the new and wondrous machines being developed in his laboratories at this very moment, machines that may well keep a mind alive long after it has tired of its wretched body.

  For but
a moment, Asotos regretted Gabrielle’s absence at today’s prisoner exchange. Oh well, the better for it. No need to risk the woman’s hidden powers. She was a formidable foe. It had been an easy matter to get Erithia’s promise to stay out of the proceedings this day. She was so weak in her constitution when it came to her children. So much she wanted to see them all safely home again, surrendering up everything in the hopes of being reunited with them. Gabrielle was so different… hardened… callous. She would accept no parley, except maybe in an attempt to save her little darling, Michael. He frowned angrily. No, it had not been worth the risk, not this day when everything had to go just right. Things were better off left where they were.

  Smiling, Asotos quietly cooed, “It’s for the best. Her hour will yet come, and soon.”

  The breeze fell into subtle repose, its becalmed breath little more than a memory. As its voice faded away, the musical refrains of tiny bells drifted quietly upon the air, playing their bewitching music in Asotos’ ears. With renewed energy, the man again took up his search for the source of the painfully alluring tune, waiting impatiently for the diminishing dust cloud to unveil secrets within. Ah, finally, the person leading Erithia’s horse, yes! He strained his eyes looking, as though they might be able to rent the red curtain aside by their sheer willpower to reveal to him the creature hurting his mind so.

  Just as the dust was beginning to part, causing a smile to break across wanting lips, the lead team of horses bringing up the wagon train moved between the person creating the musical tumult and Asotos. Forcing back a desire to scream his angry frustration, in a hush he cursed, hands shaking in little tremors, “You will regret this interference! Only the worse will it be should you renege upon your oath to stand down this day!”

  Silence...no reply echoing in Asotos’ mind. Then he saw them, scolding eyes glinting with laughter and the message they sent was clear. ‘War is played on many levels. Can you best me with your cunning, oh empty scarecrow of the imagination? My daughter is not the only lone soul standing the corn this day. As you, I also play for keeps. I throw the dice to the Fates and shall gather up the gold. For me, I have the unknown elements supporting my intrigues. What is in your quiver but empty threats and hollow words?’ The laughing eyes faded from his vision.

  Asotos screamed out in his mind with chastising rebukes and curses. ‘Be off with you, Witch of the Damned! Today is my day. You have fated the destruction of your own children. My quiver is filled with righteous indignation that shall overcome any of your impotent machinations. Be off with you now, before this fear-inspiring day fills your soul with anguish and dread! Be off, before my arrows are unleashed against all the abominations gathered here with you!’

  Silence! Golden silence! But Asotos’ smile soon melted away into a frown. No reply? He knew Erithia had heard his declarations and threats, and she made no reply. The man searched the harmonics for signs of emotion, reaction. None… nothing! Erithia had disappeared from the very existence of the universe. Suddenly, the man felt himself falling into immeasurable emptiness, a vast void in which a very tiny universe appeared to be little more than a pinprick of light in all the empty, cold nothingness surrounding it, chilling his heart.

  As he dumbly stood there, attempting to understand the meaning of what he was seeing, a voice faint and distant echoed upon his mind, “My world…”

  The vision evaporated in forgetful mist as the hypnotic music of the dancing bells intensified.

  At that instant, a small gap between the two lead wagons revealed the secreted source of the music. For only seconds, Asotos stared, mouth agape, at the very image of unfulfilled desires past. Could it be her?! Was it his very dream of dreams returned from the abyss to haunt this hour?! There she was, exactly as his passionate mind remembered her, or…

  The second team plodded ahead, blocking Asotos’ view. He swore an oath of damnation against Erithia and all her children, shaking his head in disgust. “The dead see not, hear not. What goes to the dust does not return from it. Her witchery shall turn her bastardly abominations into dust. I swear!”

  Attempting to check his emotions, Asotos forced his attention back to Michael and her entourage. The nearing throng was close enough now to allow keen recognition of people approaching. Two men walked near and to the left of Michael in the lead element. Although dressed in robes of state that hid suits of armor, their uncertain gait and wonder-filled faces revealed the truth that these fellows were new to such intrigues and uncomfortable, feeling out of place being here. Peculiar...

  There were few in Michael’s assembly that Asotos did not know, other than the woman walking beside her and… and that queer fellow far off to her left. The man was dressed more like a Stasis Pirate and walked with a swagger that made him appear as though he was looking for a confrontation. The man carried no sword, but other weapons aplenty - weapons normally reserved for the battlefield.

  At that moment, the man’s stare caught Asotos’ attention, locking the two in an intense gaze. A wicked smile crossed the man’s lips, his eyes boring in Asotos’. ‘Fool!’ Did this fool have no comprehension of who he was contesting with? Asotos reached out to study the spirit of the man, to search his soul and mind, to find out what he was about.

  He was shocked, dumbstruck, nearly stepping back in surprise. Asotos saw in the man an evil darkness greater than he saw in the hearts of the Stasis, a heart filled with more malice and hatred than ever before he had witnessed in any of Erithia’s children. He could feel the man’s restraint, holding back his desire to gather up his weapons and bring to a finish, now, the object of his hatred. Fear? The man showed no sign of fear, only a hungry longing to dispose of the source of his immense hatred - the person he was staring at.

  Shaken, Asotos broke off this silent engagement, leaving the field of battle to this strange fellow. ‘Another time… Another time…’ he muttered. Giving himself the excuse that the hour did not permit such trivial games. He took up a search of other faces in the crowd.

  Another unfamiliar face, a big fellow following to the side and behind Planetee - didn’t recognize him either. He had heard rumors of children from the Lower Worlds being brought into this one, all the way back to the days of the Great War. Even Legion had told him so, saying that Aphrodite was raised up to these worlds. Asotos did not believe it then, and he certainly did not believe it now! That was a religion held out to the mindless fool! When one was dead, they were dead forever. That was how it was.

  Still… Erithia was up to something. What it was, Asotos did not know. ‘Look sharp, or she’ll best you.’ He laughed at the very thought of that possibility.

  Something was up, though. Asotos watched Planetee’s body language. She was nearly stalking the woman walking beside Michael. Planetee - how he hated the woman. “Her demise will also come very slowly. She will not go unpunished for all the treasonous evil she has committed against me! Ruined so many of my plans by her deceit...”

  “Damn the music!” Asotos almost shouted, holding his tongue at the last second.

  Legion turned, asking if something was wrong. Asotos waved him off, stating it was nothing, all the while fuming at the constant tinkling hammering his senses.

  ‘Concentrate! Concentrate! Do not allow the evil of that necromancer to cause you any distraction.’ Asotos thought in warning. He focused all his attention now on Michael and her troubling escort while attempting to push the ever-intrusive music from his mind.

  The consternation on Michael’s face betrayed the woman’s inner turmoil. Asotos smiled. ‘She must be near the breaking point, her nerves undoubtedly stretched to the limit. Today… today her cunning will not give its allegiance and she will stumble completely in word and deed.’ Erithia would dare not assist her little bitch-girl this day, could not. Asotos was no stranger to the wiles of the harmonics. He would know if the woman was being assisted by the magic of the Palace. Michael stood alone, with
her bent and twisted mind her only ally.

  Suddenly, the creature walking beside Michael fell into her as if being pushed. Michael instantly flew into a quiet rage, spewing whispered curses as her face reddened and fists clenched. They were close enough now that a keen eye could read some of the words coming from the woman’s lips. Asotos lifted his head in surprise. This creature walking beside Michael was no friend, at least not at the moment. What was this all about? Asotos focused his attention upon the creature.

  Strange, so strange, Asotos could identify no harmonic coming from this woman that stirred any memory what-so-ever, except…as if sniffing the breeze, the man lifted his head to gather in the woman’s scent. No, the scent of the little brattling who invaded his bed to be with Sirion could not be found. He would remember it. But the woman did carry a scent that was confusing and troubling, a smell similar to his own, as if he had shared her bed...queer, so queer...

  As he puzzled over this revelation, the man examined the woman’s appearance. True, she stood proud, but unobtrusive, and her heart burned with a blackness similar to that of the fellow off to his right. But it was her garb that caught his eye. The creature was out of place, too ornately dressed to be a bodyguard or common officer. Asotos raised an eyebrow as he examined the person.

  The creature’s armored breastplate and helmet shone golden with the greenish sheen of a very rare mineral found only in a distant star system far away in the Outer Ranges. The armor covered a coat of silvery mail that appeared to be made of derker blade steel, blue-green energy dancing across the chain links. The mail covered a long-sleeved, emerald-green tunic that appeared to be made of the same material in the woman’s long, flowing cape. Asotos also puzzled at the feathery, white horse’s plume trailing down from the helmet’s top. It had been many centuries since such distinctive ornamentation crowned a commanding officer’s helm. What was this creature’s position in Michael’s military?

  A sudden rogue gust of wind caught the creature’s cape, whipping it high into the excited tempest, exposing the left side of her uniform. There, upon the breastplate and pauldron were bejeweled crests signifying the person’s rank. Asotos stared in disbelief, glancing at Michael before fixing his eyes again on the person.

  Field marshal?! Field marshal?! There was no doubt the significance of this discovery. Asotos could not believe what he was seeing. For two thousand years, Michael had been marshal enforce, field marshal, dictator absolute, over all the military forces of the Children’s Empire. Although fearless and charismatic, the woman was predictable, the reason for the Treaty of Memphis. If this creature was field marshal, what position did Michael have? Had she taken pseudo-command, being the hidden power behind the military in the same manner as Gabrielle, and was her little puppet acting insubordinately, attempting a coup?

  Asotos looked over at Michael, chuckling, that is until he examined her uniform. Blood drained from his face as his heart erupted with jealous rage upon seeing the royal crest engraved on the woman’s helm. In the center was a blazing star-like diamond, with twelve fingers radiating outward and up, each finger ending at a different glowing gemstone. On each side of the helm was the head of a roaring, maned young lion with the words engraved underneath each head, ‘Who is the First Born.’

  “Miserable...little... usurping ...bitch!” Asotos cried, his words slipping out loud enough to catch the attention of those standing near.

  Legion turned to Asotos, puzzled. “Is my brother troubled over something?”

  Gathering his wits quickly, Asotos shook his head, saying it was nothing, fearing that his men might realize something was amiss. Holding his temper in check, he glared at the person trusted to deliver any important information to him before this prisoner exchange. ‘I will skin that traitor alive along with all the others who have failed me. They will beg to die, but life will not flee them… forever!’

  Turning his attention back to Michael, Asotos hissed under his breath, “This time you have gone too far. You will not live to the end of this day! I shall rip your beating heart from your chest and carry your worthless head away as a trophy to hang upon my wall!”

  Looking off toward his left, he watched Erithia sitting her mount. ‘Patience now… Be patient. Mustn’t give her reason to interfere... The bitch-woman is near her breaking point. My little surprise will push her far beyond, and then I… well, I have the right to defend myself.’

  He chuckled, thinking about the torment he was going to deliver upon his most hated foe. Erithia’s tears would flow in rivers and she would be unable to do a thing except watch the destruction of her hopes and dreams.

  Sucking in a breath of the dry desert air, Asotos grinned. Turning to Legion, he sighed with satisfaction, “It feels so good to be alive.”