The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix

by Ava D. Dohn

  * * *

  The blazing fires of the Guardians slowly diminished into a burning yellow glow like that of molten gold, and EremiaPikros’ silvery moon rose higher into the chill of the planet’s night sky. All the while, Darla’s mournful weeping filled with unrequited outbursts of wailing and forlorn anguish rent the air, echoing their woeful sympathies far across the barren landscape.

  Finally, in one last outburst of hopeless surrender, Darla sat back on her knees and unleashed blood-curdling howls to the night’s sky the likes of which few had ever witnessed. At last, when aching muscles refused to cooperate with her devastated heart, the woman hunched forward in defeat, sallow-faced, her breathing shallow and labored.

  Thus came the moment of resigned surrender. Never in Darla’s life, never upon the sordid fields of war, never in front of her arrogant and bigoted brethren, never in the councils when so many spoke against her, no never before in her entire miserable, dreadful existence could she recall a time when her heart was filled with such helpless despair. Without even the energy to sob, she sat there silently, a few tears still flowing down her cheeks and splashing into the sand.

  When Darla finally bent her head down in resigned despondency, Asotos made his move to accomplish complete victory. He stepped close, extending a hand, lightly stroking her hair with caring fingers, preparing to speak.

  A searing pain rushed up through the back of Asotos’ head and into his eyes, blinding him while creating an agonizing moment. Lowenah’s anger rose along with the brightness of the fiery sentinels as she warned, “Touch her again and I shall smite your manhood, myself! The diseased curse of the syphilis you delivered upon my creation in the Realms Beneath, I will pour out on you a hundred fold until it eats away both your sight and mind. I swear this by my name never uttered to mortal kind. I swear!”

  After releasing the silky black strands of Darla’s hair, the pain in Asotos’ head diminished, he quickly regaining sight. Turning, he glared into Erithia’s smoldering orbs. The witch’s power was too great for him… for the moment. He would have to finish this game on her terms. Still, he was not surrendered yet. After all, his tongue was very persuasive, having seduced even the most loyal of Erithia’s daughters to join to him. He focused his attention back on Darla.

  His voice filled with heartfelt compassion, Asotos waxed empathetic. “Oh, the folly of this night! This moment! All these loving gifts that you need so dearly I could have long ago given to you, most desirous of maidens, but for the evil done to me… and to you. Look! With lies and deceit, your loving companions have littered your path, so that you must walk a lonely road in desperate need of love. Come along with me, and this night I shall give to you what others have hidden from you, the Dream of Dreams. It beckons to you, my passionate ardor waiting your rapturous embrace.”

  “The power of this man is diminished...” Lowenah interrupted, disgusted. “Long ago it was taken from him by the very Ones giving it to him. ‘To the person deserving more shall be given, but to the treacherous one shall it all be taken away.’ Your own AsreHalom penned those words once, long ago, and for you so true has that statement become.”

  Crimson-faced, raging in anger, Asotos assailed Lowenah. “Lies! All lies! My power is even greater since I have not had to whore myself in your bed! Stay out of this, hag! My business is with this abused child, one you have cast into eternal damnation because of your selfishness and evil intent. I can provide her a cure for all her ills, even the ones you have kept hidden in secret places.”

  Lowenah sadly replied, her voice quietly subdued, “I have spoken the truth… Still, this is not my night to do battle. My child is grown, and can decide good and ill for herself. It is her choice, her will.”

  Asotos sinisterly grinned. Now that he had Erithia’s promise to no longer interfere, it would only be a matter of little time before this distraught creature was being whisked away to more private places. Already he was fantasizing over what the next several hours might deliver.

  At that, Asotos drew close to Darla, cooing softly in her ear, “It is time, my lovely one, for you to receive your reward that has for so long been hidden from you. Come, let us depart to better places so that you, too, may receive what you so much deserve.”

  Darla slowly lifted her head, her gaze first falling on Asotos and then on Lowenah. The woman’s tear-filled, reddened eyes silently begged, ‘Why have you been unfaithful to your little child? I trusted you, asking nothing in return. The truth...the truth was all I ever asked for. Deceit! Is that my portion for my devotion? You, too? You, too...? Have you also betrayed your little brattling misfit? Shall I go away, and will that leave you, too, in peace? Cracked and broken I came in to this world. Cracked and broken I shall leave it...’

  Lowenah silently stared down into her daughter’s distraught face, attempting no reply. Would her Rachel surrender to the wiles of this man, to the sweetness of an empty tongue uttering impotent promises? Too much she had asked of her child. No one should need to endure such trials, but what else was she to do? This hour was destined to come, must come. Through Death must Life be renewed.

  Tonight her Rachel must die, or at least wish for death. It was the beginning of her healing. Yet, soon she must pass through Death’s door. To do so, the girl would have to experience the Dream of Dreams. It was the trigger - of that Lowenah was now sure. Yet, this decrepit man confronting Rachel could not give her those dreams, and those dreams she must have in order to pass through Death and enter back into Life.

  Asotos went on to charm the girl with sweet prose and gentle speech, continually describing to her the joys of the Dream of Dreams. What he did not wish to understand, or was unable to understand, was that Darla wept not over dreams lost, but over a deep feeling of betrayal. Few were those of her kindred that she fully trusted. Even Mihai and Euroaquilo were kept at arm’s distance. But Mother - the only person the girl trusted to the full depth of her heart - was she also a beguiler of false hope?

  It was the emptiness of the heart, the total loss of trust that caused convulsive actions to rage within the child, the Dream of Dreams merely the catalyst creating this eruption of emotional anguish. Forever was that hope gone, that she knew. Now what was she to do? Whether this man could give the dreams was doubtful but, for her, an impossibility. He was her enemy and would remain so, forever. Never would she go to him for any favor or cure. If it meant eternal damnation, she would refuse. She paused in thought, looking up at the moon. Damnation...yes, damnation. There was another road to be considered.

  Asotos was becoming impatient, the persistent night chill quite uncomfortable. “Come, my child. We must leave soon. The night is well along and the day begs we be departed from here.” He extended a hand in offer. “Here, let me help you and we shall be gone.”

  Darla looked up at Asotos, threateningly. Taken aback, he hesitated before asking again. “Shall we go? The hour is late and you are in need of my love. Come, let us go.”

  Darla slowly began to rise, a queer disquiet growing on her face. The woman silently stood, staring back and forth at Asotos and Lowenah, a wild look smoldering in her eyes. Something was peculiar about her, strangely disturbing, filling the hearts of those watching with unease. Lowenah noticed, too. Something was up, something she was not expecting. ‘Stay alert you must!’

  Asotos believed the events of the night had driven the girl mad - weak constitution, you know - but have her now he must. His heart ached to possess her forever. He needed to discover the secrets hidden deep within her mind. In a hurried voice, he called for Darla to join him. “Come now. The hour is late and we must be going.”

  At that instant, Asotos’ ears picked up a growing, guttural, staccato sound coming from Darla’s throat. He stepped back, wondering.

  Darla clenched her fists, looking up at the moon, howling out angrily to the sky, “Kra·Ka·Tuu! Kra·Ka·Tuu! Kra·Ka·Tuu! Sab·Bee·Nee! Sab·Bee
·Nee! Sab·Bee·Nee! (meaning: ‘So it shall be! So it shall be! So it shall be! It has come! It has come! It has come!’)

  At that instant, a shadow flashed across the moon and the fires of the burning sentinels vanished, leaving the plain empty and cold. Lowenah puzzled, disturbed. This was unexpected, and what her daughter was doing unexpected. Something was up, and she must remain vigilant.

  Darla turned toward Asotos, arm outstretched, finger pointing, shouting in her monster’s’ deep, guttural voice, “The love songs of the Wastepipe stink like running dung from rotting maggots! His manhood is a withered dream!”

  Asotos stepped back aghast, angrily accosting Darla. “Who are you to speak the vile language of extinguished times?! How dare you! How dare you threaten me with such contemptible speech, the rightful ruler of these worlds! How dare you!”

  “How dare I?!” Darla screamed. “Does the demon call the demon-chaser foul? Call to your cowering chieftains. They know well the god you are witnessing!”

  Not taking his eyes off this raving monster, Asotos shouted for Legion and Godenn. Slowly, cautiously, the two men approached. He turned to them, pointing at Darla. “Who is this… this creature? Tell me if you know, or die!”

  Legion shook his head in trepidation as he stared into Darla’s glowing, fiery-red eyes while listening to her raspy breathing. “I know it not. Never have I seen or heard of such a beast! Never!”

  Asotos grabbed Godenn by the nap of his shirt, yanking him forward. “Tell me! Who is this creature?”

  Godenn stared in fearful wonder, also shaking his head. “I… I have never seen such a beast before.”

  Darla roared. “Oh, really?! You remember me, dung meat, surely do.” She hunched her back, spreading her feet, and lifting a fist, cried out in rage, “Ar… Go… Toth!”

  Now Godenn remembered. Letting out a blood-curdling cry of despair, clutching his head, he screamed in panic, “Therioskotia! Therioskotia! Therioskotia!” Here was the demon from his worst nightmares, alive and staring at him. Well he remembered now, standing near the Gates of Argototh with his bodyguards when a demon rose from the darkness of the field of slain, its face smeared with bloody filth, entrails hanging from its belly. In seconds, it was upon them, tearing his guards asunder with its magic spear. And then it attacked him, driving the evil blade deep into his shoulder. Only by his greatest skill (luck, really), he managed an escape, harboring a sick wound for many months to come.

  Without hesitating, even for fear of Asotos’ wrath, Godenn turned about and took off on a waddling run, all the while clutching his head, screaming out the monster’s name, “Therioskotia! Therioskotia! Therioskotia!”

  After watching his brave commander rush off in a panic, never stopping until he reached the safety of a nearby ship, Asotos looked back at Darla, concerned but curious. This Therioskotia he had heard about, along with countless other gods and demigods that had been invented by the weak minds of lost souls. It started with Stasis Pirates and slowly filtered into the camps of the Pseudes (common man), his lowly soldiers. It seemed to him that this world was now filled with nearly as many fearful gods and demons as infected the worlds below. What was he to do, anyway, with such simple minds? But there was business to conclude.

  As he looked about at his other officers, trepidation ever growing in their hearts, he asked Legion, “Why do they fear so?”

  Legion put on a bold face, all the while dreading that the monster might attack. He leaned close to Asotos’ ear, whispering, “It is the tale oft told of a demon monster that haunts the fields of battle, seeking the blood of the slain to quench its insatiable thirst. Seen first during the Ancepities War, accompanied at that time by a monster giant, it has been witnessed across the worlds of combat. The crazed Stasis claim that it killed and ate several of its leaders when they captured it once.”

  “No...” Legion shook his head. “I doubt the stories to be more than tales, but Godenn’s bodyguards were torn asunder, their innards ripped from their bodies, and hearts removed. That I personally witnessed in the aftermath of that battle.” He shrugged, “But wild wolves or feral hogs may have done that to them. It happens, you know.”

  Asotos scoffed, uneasy, “The coward must have been too deep into the wine.” The two men laughed timorously. He added, “This might be Erithia’s greatest secret, her protective guardian kept to secure the well-being of the others in case things went badly for her this day. It is fortuitous that I have discovered the truth. It will serve us well to know the deceitful weapons of our enemy.”

  But it was too late for Asotos to abandon the chase. His passionate desire for this whatever it might be was consuming him. He not only wanted to probe its mind to discover what was hidden within, he wanted to have intercourse with it, to dream his dreams of being with the girl he had so much desired. He must have this Darla creature for his own.

  Reaching toward the beast-woman with a hand, Asotos called out encouragingly, “Come, my child. I have made a promise to you. Unlike the untrustworthy, I will keep it. Remember, the Dream of Dreams is yours for the taking. Let us be gone.”

  “Go away, filth!” Darla screamed. “I’ll not be a slave to man or demon!”

  In a flash, she gripped her long knife, yanking it from its sheath, holding it high in front of her. As she gripped it with her other hand, the blade burst forth in a blinding, white light. “Sab·Bee·Nee! (So it shall be!)” She cried, plunging the weapon down toward her heart. Just before the blade pierced the woman’s flesh, she cried out in anguish, the knife tumbling from her hands as she stumbled backward, falling as though dead into the sand. Everyone stood there in shocked silence, staring upon the form sprawled upon the ground, watching while the knife blade’s blazing light faded away.

  Asotos stared dumbly at the woman on the ground, and then up at Lowenah. Looking at him, she sighed, resigned, “The contest was to be waged with but two weapons. I fear that by default you have won this leg of the race. Take your treasures of victory with you and go, and I shall take the defeated with me.” She called to Ardon and others with him to gather the woman up and take her back to camp.

  So much Asotos wanted to demand the girl be given to him, but he could see that it was not to be, and that any argument otherwise might prove unpleasant. After the woman had been gathered up to be returned to camp, he addressed Erithia. “Remember well your oath of promise: no more of those monkey-children from the Lower Worlds, and… and you will stay out of all future events in this world.”

  He then snapped his fingers, smiling. “Oh yes, I do have one other little bit of business, or should I say information.”

  At that, he motioned to some people standing back in the shadows. In short order, a dark-haired woman officer being accompanied by two male officers of similar rank stepped up beside Asotos.

  “You do remember Ilaniya, your sweet flower?” Asotos asked so innocently. He grinned. “Sure you do...”

  Lowenah said nothing. Expressionless, she looked down at her much beloved child.

  “Captain Ilaniya has decided to join the League of Brothers, she tiring of your insolent ways, and the evil done against other innocents by the Children’s Empire.” He smugly adding, “Her loyalty is now with me.”

  Lowenah asked, staring into Ilaniya’s distraught, guilt-ridden eyes. “Is it so that you are staying with this man?” She could feel the grief in Ilaniya’s heart, understanding well the shame the woman must be feeling for believing her failure to endure Asotos’ tortures warranted no forgiveness. Lowenah could provide a rescue, but her daughter’s heart would never heal should that be done. No, the cure must come in its own hour at whatever the cost to her child.

  Ilaniya slowly nodded. “It is so...the better for it.”

  “All right...” Lowenah quietly replied.

  She then turned her attention to Asotos, eying him. “Until Salem’s Day, I have sworn, and so have you, to promised oaths.
Forces there are, far beyond my control, which will assure me that you will keep your word in these matters. How you fare, though, in truth or lies, is up to you.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Lowenah ordered her people to take their leave, and turned her horse about. She called back over her shoulder in passing, “Tomorrow... tomorrow... There will not always be a tomorrow to set matters aright. Today that ending hour is swiftly coming.”

  In relatively short order, both sides were departed, leaving behind a smattering of discarded goods, abandoned wagons and broken equipment. The murdered dog remained untouched, even though its killing sword was a finely crafted derker blade. In the stark brilliance of morning’s sunlight, the reality of future days was scathingly revealed upon the blistered, empty plain. A war of desolation was soon coming, its portent revealed here in this destitute world. The die had been cast, the players on the board put in motion. Open were the gates, the horses already running hard. It was now come to be a race to the finish.

  Not a soul placed a foot on EremiaPikros until long after Salem’s Day. There the naked truth of future’s hour still lay untouched. Trisha’s prophetic words were found to have become devastatingly true. The world did burn, worlds burned, consumed in unbridled rage, unprecedented. Ruthlessness became king for an hour, and Hell was delivered to Heaven. In those hopeless times, Death hunted all men, good and evil. Few chose to remember those evil days, and yet none who survived them could forget. EremiaPikros stood as one of the countless monuments forcing their memory.

  There, after the many long years of war, the bones of a murdered dog rested undisturbed, the killing weapon’s hilt still pointing defiantly skyward. Into this world came a man, witness to the violence of that day, and the creator of many cruel machines used in that coming war. That same man, now sworn to peace eternal, surveyed the surroundings, remembering that day so long ago. Beside him stood his lover, recently returned from the ashes of hopeless despair. She, too, remembered that day, or what parts of it were hers to remember, pondering all that was and all that might have been. Quietly the two stood there, remembering the hour, the oaths, and the final fury that hour led to.

  The man, now at peace with himself and the universe around him, took out pen and paper and gathered up his feelings about that hour when the universe was forever changed. ‘Tis the poet’s song: