The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix
Page 51
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Ishtar flung herself down in the tall grasses at the edge of the field near the wood, her aching lungs and pounding heart refusing to carry her any further. As she regained her breath, the ache in her bruised and bleeding feet began a throbbing that almost made her cry. The girl’s panicked flight across the rocky stream had gone unnoticed until now. Sitting, she frantically looked back toward the distant village, half-expecting to see a horde of soldiers chasing across the field in search of her.”
Sighing in relief at seeing no one, she rested back on her elbows until her breathing eased. At length, Ishtar got up on her feet and limped off into the wood. It appeared to be late in the day. If she could make it far enough into the forest, there was a good chance of escape, but to where? Such an issue was not currently her concern. First, get away, and then she would worry about where she was and how she might escape and return home.
Get away she did. Late night found her huddled under an ancient oak deep in the woodland, a drizzling rain soaking her to the skin. Already, Ishtar was chiding herself for acting so foolishly - not for running away, but for not planning her escape. Remembering the bowl of tumbled fruit she had thrown upon the floor only increased the girl’s hunger, and her bruised feet made her long for the slippers sitting at the foot of the tiny bed. And the fire… and the warm milk… and the pretty little things tucked about her cozy room…
“Oh shut up, you!” She cried, and then began again mumbling aloud over her present dilemma. “Stupid thing, running away with nothing but a long blouse! No food, nothing..” She rubbed her feet to ease the cramping pain caused by previous injuries.
Looking out from under the low-hanging boughs of the giant tree into the deep forest’s shadows, Ishtar thought about the morrow and what it might bring. Where was she, how far from home? Yes, home. Which direction was it, and would it be safe to go back there? After all, she must have been taken from her home, but by whom and why?
Too many questions, at least for the moment, too many questions for this lost, lonely child. Tomorrow, yes tomorrow was a good time to search for those answers. The girl leaned back against the tree’s gnarly trunk, closing her eyes, beginning to cry anew. Gradually the night passed into fitful dreams, catching Ishtar up in worlds lost between fantasy and reality. Little did she remember other than her mother’s gentle voice calling her for a breakfast of sweet cakes and honey.
Shivering awake in the early morning chill, it took a while for Ishtar to gather her wits about her, forgetting for the moment the previous day’s adventures. Staring dumbly into the ghostly mist as it slowly twirled up through the shimmering sunlight, the girl gradually came to recognize her surroundings. She was wet, cold, hungry, and ached from head to foot, but especially in her feet. Looking down at them, she let out a gasp at seeing two swollen stumps with ten purplish toes sticking awkwardly from them.
The girl began to cry remorsefully over her previous actions. Maybe the people holding her captive had meant her no harm. After all, they had gone to extensive trouble to fool her into believing she was still in her little room and that Hanna and her uncle were tending to her needs. The thought of such a ruse was troublingly curious. Why? Why go such extreme? Never was such a thing heard of before. Oh, yes! Deceit and treachery were common tales told by her father as the family sat about the dining table, but nothing like the things Ishtar was experiencing.
Her remorseful cries were soon replaced by indignant howls of angry frustration. If she was such an important prize, why had the guard not already come to recapture her? What fools governed this place? A one-legged sailor drunked up on new wine could have managed an escaped from the prison she was in. At that, she began shouting out insults and derisions against her former captors, the girl’s vernacular far more fitting to be heard on the deck of a ship in a following sea than from the pious lips of a person such as her uncle.
Eventually, Ishtar’s boisterous rants weakened into heartfelt mutterings, and finally deteriorated into quiet mumbles until the girl gave up and began a gloomy silent pout, wrapping herself in folded arms while sitting cross-legged in the damp grasses. Well, she would show them! When they finally came in search of her, nothing but a shriveled carcass of a starved and bloodied prize would they discover! The very thought of such a happening made the girl smile, that is, until she heard strange noises coming from the deep wood to her left.
Ishtar’s eyes popped open as her ears strained, listening. Then she heard the noise again - a screechy chatter the likes of which sent chills up her spine. Could it be the little beasts her father had once spoken about, short-armed, fiery little dragons that ran about on two long legs that father said screeched like giant trees mourning in distress? “They’ll sneak up on you unawares and strip the living flesh off you with their sharp teeth afore you know they are even there!” He had told her as they sat about the hearth fire. Stories like that, and even greater dangers the outside world harbored flooded the girl’s mind.
Forgetting her death wish, Ishtar jumped to her feet and began a hasty retreat away from the dark, foreboding woods, a path taking her back in the direction of the little village from which she had earlier escaped. As she made her way westward, the wood began to thin a bit until she found her trail opening into small clearings, some of them filled with spiny bushes filled with luscious, sweet fruits full to their rich summer ripeness. The temptation soon became too great for the child, the fruit too generously offering itself up to her reach. In little time, the delicious taste of mouthfuls of scrumptious delights filling a hungry belly cast a forgetful shadow over the earlier eerie forest sounds.
With a full stomach and the warm late morning breeze wafting below a bright blue sky, any previous lonely trepidation Ishtar might have been feeling drifted away on the dreamy day. Emboldened with renewed curiosity, the girl was determined to explore this new and strange world in hopes of discovering where she might be. After all, she could not be many miles from home, could she? A journey of two or three days would well take her into unfamiliar lands. Far from her home had the child not ever traveled, except along the broadways leading to nearby cities. So off she went at a casual pace, always alert to finding other tasty delights growing along the path.
After passing through an exceptionally thick grove of young basswood and aspen, the girl came into a tiny glade of tall grasses that opened downward toward the west, giving her a glimpse of distant hills and valleys lying further off in that direction. The rich greenery of forests, cut with a patchwork of small meadows and fields, was truly beautiful, filling her eyes with wonder and concern. Nowhere in her world did she remember such blue-green rich hues of colors, nor was the land so heavily forested as here. They said there were countless olive groves and fields for cattle far to the north of Ephesus, but no olive groves did she see here, still…
At that instant, a movement in the distant sky caught her eye. A covey of birds far away appeared over the horizon, and large birds they must be, too. As the girl watched the birds, she could not help but wonder what kind they must be. Suddenly she let out a cry of frightful dread, shrinking back into the shadows of the nearby trees. What kind of birds were these, creatures without wings or heads that could be seen?
Her heart pounding from fright, Ishtar recalled a tale her father told long ago. Fanciful though it might be, it appeared to be far less so now. Waving his hands about, his face grave, he exclaimed, ‘I was standing upon the southern bridge tower, observing the workers at the far end of the bridge, when two shining, wingless birds - or what I thought to be birds, but later came to believe were machinations of an evil wizard - swooped out of the distant clouds and down upon a band of soldiers marching along the road leading toward the bridge we were repairing.’
‘Suddenly, fire shot out from the mouths of the flying beasts, consuming the entire band of marching men! As I stood there stunned, in horror, the beasts turned and approaching the bridge tower acro
ss the river from me, rained fire and ruin down upon it, causing that tower and main causeway of the bridge to collapse in smoke and rubble, casting several of my work crew also into the foaming chasm below. Then, as quickly as the terrifying flying beasts appeared, they were gone, making no sound at all in their departure.’
The wingless birds or inventions of some wizard Ishtar was observing finally drifted from sight off to the south. Taking no chances, the terrified girl remained hidden beneath the trees until the sun had moved high into the sky and begun its slow journey toward the west. Several more times, Ishtar witnessed such strange flying beasts in the sky, her fear of them gradually diminishing as day wore on. Whatever the things might be, they appeared to have no interest in her. None approached or drew close, but continued whatever journey they were on. In time, the girl paid little more attention to their presence other than to gingerly stepping into the shade of a nearby tree to await their departure.
As early afternoon lazily advanced toward the evening hour, the girl continued her wandering stroll on toward the west, first following the glen down into a shady valley and then up across a low ridge and down into another draw, eventually coming to a low, wooded rise that overlooked the tiny village from which she had earlier escaped. Crouching down until finally crawling on hands and knees, the girl stealthily slipped down the rise, stopping at the edge of the wood.
Peeking out from behind a thorny hedge of nettles and briers, Ishtar carefully studied her former prison some two furlongs’ distance. Very strange it was. Everything about it was strange. Still high enough up the rise, she could see over the thickets at the stream to have a clear view of the streets and buildings comprising this little town. Such a town as this the girl had never imagined existed.
The streets were paved with smooth, flat flagstones. That she knew from not only seeing them from this vantage point, but because of remembering well the cool feel of the stones as she darted across them the day before. The buildings, though, were entirely another matter. Simple in design they were, too simple in fact. Most had dull, matted sides bereft of window or shutter. Here and there was a door or, in some cases, huge rectangular barred gates, dark, and also windowless. Three carriages, or what looked to possibly to be carriages, were parked alongside the roadway, but there were no animals standing about, nor people for that matter.
As time passed, Ishtar became more perplexed at seeing nobody about. Oh, yes, twice the shirtless man made an appearance in the doorway, always looking up the street, but never once did his searching eyes wander in her direction. In time, the girl tired of the adventure. Leaning back on her elbows, she stared up at the sun as the breeze lavished its gentle warmth upon bare face and arms. Soon she was laid back, snuggled up in the downy grasses. It was not long before tired eyes closed and a quiet snooze ensued.
Ishtar awoke with a start. Something had roused her, a noise maybe. She looked into the sky, the lazy sun hanging high in the western blue haze. What time might it be? How long had the girl slept? Again the noise, a rumbling pop, pop, popping, something the likes a copper lid makes over a boiling pot, but it was far away, echoing across the valley from beyond the village.
The wide-eyed child sat up and peeked over the hedge to see what the commotion was all about. At first nothing, and then she caught sight of movement on the road west of the village. One, then two, then three carriages could be seen rapidly approaching at a terrifying pace. The one far out in the lead was making the noise that awoke her. How curious, for she could see that at times little puffs of brown, sooty smoke would rise in a swirl from behind it.
Maybe there was a chase going on, the two carriages behind shooting flaming darts at the carriage in front, catching it ablaze. The girl watched in amazement as the wagons hurled down the road at their maddening pace. When the first carriage careened around a sharp bend in the highway, Ishtar gasped, realizing for the first time the rampaging carriage was absent its horses! She glanced up the road at the pursuing carriages and saw that they, too, were without any beasts in harness.
Then suddenly, clasping hands over her heart, the girl cried out in terror, “No wheels! No wheels! Angels of death they are! Angels of death! Oh God! Oh God! Save your child from this wicked fate!”
Clutching her head while covering her ears so as to hear no longer that dreadful noise, Ishtar sprang to her feet and ran, screaming, up the hill and over the rise, not stopping until she was hidden deep in the eastern wood.