Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D.

by Glenn Van Dyke

  “Then let us finish this now, rusty one!” said Enlil.

  “I made a vow, serpent! I will kill you. And I will make it as painful for you as you have made it for your victims!”

  Steven, be patient! He’s goading you. We’ve got to work together to have a chance of defeating him!

  Enlil then shifted into a Griffin. He had the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion.

  His wings fanned out and beat at the air. With an eagle’s screech, he pointed his head at the sky and lifted himself aloft. To Steven, his wings looked too small for his weight and his cumbersome flight bore it out. Steven hoped he could use it to his advantage. Soaring high, the Griffin made a large sweeping turn, coming back around to face them.

  Steven shifted his feet into an attack posture and hefted the bronze sword high into the air, ready to take a swing.

  Enlil started to dive. Steven moved, the ear-piercing screech of metal making Ashlyn wince. A little oil wouldn’t have hurt, would it?

  Ash changed back into the tiger and bounded off so she would be away from the sweeping arc of Talos’ sword. As the Griffin closed the distance, his mouth opened wide, and he took a massively, large inhalation of air. As he exhaled, fire erupted in a great and mighty stream from his mouth. Blinded, Steven took his best guess and swung his sword. After Enlil passed, Steven squeakily turned to see the results. He’d missed, but—Ashlyn’s saber-toothed tiger was landing awkwardly upon the ground. Rolling once, she regained her footing. Steven peered upwards and saw that the Griffin’s right wing was badly shredded, and as a result, his flight was heavily labored. Her attack had hurt him.

  Only as Ash bounded toward Steven, did he see that her right side was badly burned, her fur smoldering. “Ash, are you all right? You’ve taken a lot the last couple of weeks!”

  “I’m fine.”

  Steven wasn’t sure if he believed her, but when he turned to check on Enlil, he saw that he was setting down a few hundred meters away. Even from this distance, his shrieks of pain filled the air.

  “He’s letting his wing repair!”

  “The Keeper had said we must not fight him strength against strength,” Ash reminded. “He has too much experience.”

  “So he did! Let’s try this.”

  “A dragon?”

  “They are bigger, stronger, faster,” said Steven.

  Following his advice, Ashlyn too transformed. A moment later, she smacked him hard with her spiked tail.

  “What was that for?” said Steven.

  “Just wanted to give you a little tail,” said Ashlyn.

  Steven frowned. The heavy brows of his dragon scrunching together.

  As their wings beat at the air, carrying them aloft, Steven took a large inhalation of breath. As he had hoped, when he exhaled strongly, it caught fire and shot forth. “I don’t know how it works, Ash, but it does.”

  Ash followed his lead and lit the ground ablaze.

  “He’s lifting off, Ash, let’s go!”

  The Griffin had risen into the air, his wing not yet fully repaired. His flight still unsteady.

  Like a fighter in a strafing run, Steven lined up for the attack, swooping down upon him. As Steven took in a bellyful of air, Enlil spun, flying backwards. It exposed his deadly claws, and though Steven engulfed him in flame, Enlil grasped at the air.

  Steven turned around, expecting to see Enlil in flames, but what he saw was Ashlyn caught within his four claws.

  Ash was struggling to free herself, but each movement only made his claws gouge deeper. Her spiked tail flailed, striking him with blows that seemed to intrigue him.

  As his viciously, burning eyes locked upon Steven, he inserted the hook of his beak beneath her neck, piercing her deeply.

  “Steven!” Ash screamed.

  Enlil then ran the hook downward, slicing her open, down to her stomach, expelling her entrails. Blood gushed into the air like red rain. In a move purely designed to show his supremacy over them, Enlil tore Ashlyn’s organs apart with his beak.

  A loud blood-curdling shriek from Ashlyn told of the damage he was doing.

  “Noooooo!” Steven roared, as he swooped toward them.

  As Steven closed the distance, Enlil released her, letting her plummet toward the ground far below.

  Steven dove hard, hoping to catch her. Ash craned her head upwards. I will love you forever— Her eyes glazed into a dead stare; with her dying breath she whispered into his mind, Behind you!

  Steven looked over his right wing to see Enlil descending upon him. They spun, their bodies tangling, their claws locking.

  As Steven tumbled around, he caught sight of Ashlyn, her body in the midst of reverting to her human form. She hit the ground, slowly transforming into nothing more than a lump of torn, human flesh.

  Thrashing wildly, Steven’s surging adrenaline allowed him to break one claw free. Running a talon down the griffin’s chest, he made a deep gash. Enlil cried out, releasing him.

  Capturing the air, Steven glided down to Ashlyn’s side, where he then changed back into his own form. Tears flooded down his face as he knelt at her side and wiped the loose strands of hair from her delicate face. Her skin, smooth and soft, seemed to have already begun to cool. Her broken and shredded body had taken too much for even a god to bear.

  The griffin, hovering in the air above him, beat his wings haughtily in victory.

  Steven looked up at him, his eyes red and filled with tears. He gave a strained, defiant scream that drained him of the will to live. With Ashlyn’s death, his heart was ripped from him. Even vengeance seemed unimportant. He had lost all that he held dear.

  “See insolent, human, you know not real power!” Enlil descended, landing in front of him.

  Steven raised Ashlyn into his arms, holding her to his chest. He could feel her blood flowing down his legs.

  “Let me end this now. I will make your death quick, if not painless.”

  A spark of hatred found its way to the surface from the dark depths of Steven’s crushed heart. “The next time we meet, Enlil, you have my promise that I will rip your heart out with my bare hands!”

  Steven changed into the dragon, and with a flap of his large wings, he lifted off the ground. The Griffin pounced, his swiping claw missing Steven by only centimeters. As Steven flew off, carrying Ashlyn’s dead body in his arms, he turned to see the Griffin giving chase, but its bulky form and injured chest made flight cumbersome, and he knew that he would not be caught.

  An hour later, back at the wall, Steven landed and once again took his human form. “Keeper, I know I gave orders not to allow us in, but—”

  Chapter 22

  “You may enter, Lord Steven. I have seen that which has befallen you,” said the Keeper. Even as Steven entered the wall, he could feel his own life force ebbing away.

  Steven carried Ashlyn down the path that led to the tree. As he gently set her down at the edge of the stream, his legs grew weak, and he collapsed beside her, his tears streaming. He lay his head on her shoulder and took her hand in his.

  “I am sorry, Lord Steven.”

  “Is there anything that can be done to help her? Anything?”

  “I know of nothing that can be done. I wish there were.”

  Scooping up handfuls of water from the stream, Steven washed off Ashlyn’s blood-spattered face. Her death desolated his soul and filled his heart with tormented anguish. “Soon, we will be reunited even if it is in death.” Steven kissed her lips and held her tight.

  Strangely, an obscure, anonymous poem Renee had once read to him now came to mind. It seemed prophetic somehow. He repeated it softly to himself.

  “As her playful spirit renewed my soul,

  so did her gentle touch renew my youth.

  As her sensual smile inspired my love,

  so did her beauty inspire my heart.

  And so it has always been

  that for treasures of such value,

  nations have gone to war

  and m
en have found the poet within themselves.

  The poet within me,

  had once sung to the heavens in praise of her,

  but alas, the anger of the warrior within me now reigns

  as I mourn her meaningless death, and pursue vengeance.

  And yet, hiding within the warrior’s shadow,

  my saddened poet prays, waiting for the day

  when destiny will arise and take me to her.

  Waiting for the day when I will sing again.”

  “Lord Steven?”

  “Yes?”

  “Your words hold much beauty and deep meaning, but I must ask, are you injured as well? Your life force is fading?”

  “No, I’m not injured. But, it is true that I am dying. With her death, my life has also ended.”

  “I feel your pain, Lord Steven. Let me help.”

  The Keeper induced Steven into a deep slumber so he could heal.

  In Steven’s dreams, they were together again. “I am forever yours, my lord.”

  “Yes, forever!” The two of them soared on the winds of their love. It was wondrous and they had never been happier. The playground of the gods was theirs for the taking.

  Steven awoke slowly and for the briefest instant—he forgot about the tragedy. He turned over, expecting to see Ashlyn’s radiant smile, but there beside him was the brutal reality. Her lifeless corpse lay as before—a nightmare from which he would never awaken.

  “Lord Steven, I saw that you needed rest—but, I do not understand why your life force is still fading.”

  “You misunderstood the meaning behind my words. To live, I need more than rest—I need Ashlyn. Ashlyn and I are connected on a molecular level. We are each a resonant amplifier of the other’s life force. Without her, my life force will die. I will die. I have only a matter of days left to live.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “Keeper? How do you feel about revenge?”

  “The Anunnaki believe that revenge is wrong. They believe that killing is wrong, except for in the most extreme of circumstances, where no other choice exists. However—the words in the poem you spoke have given me much to consider. It touched my heart, and for the first time, I think I can understand the depth of your loss.”

  “But, do you understand revenge?”

  “I do now.”

  “And, how do you feel about it?”

  “As I heard you say to Enlil—I wish to tear his heart out with my own hands.”

  “You heard me say that?”

  “Yes, I witnessed the battle.”

  Steven stroked Ashlyn’s cool skin with the back of his hand. “If only I still had Avenger,” Steven said softly to himself.

  “Why?”

  “Because, we had a machine aboard her that could regenerate cells. I don’t know—it might have possibly saved her.”

  “How does it work?”

  “I’m not a scientist; I only know that it studies the patterns within living cells. It finds the genetic encoding in healthy DNA and uses it to replicate more of the undamaged living tissue, replacing that which is dead.”

  “It could bring people back to life?”

  “There were times where it was said to have—yes.”

  “Lord Steven, I have a regenerative device inside the wall that has given me my ability to last through the ages.”

  “Would it work on her?” said Steven, his elation daring to hope.

  “I do not know. I have no record of it having ever been tried on another life form. You need not ask though, I would like to try.”

  “Thank you. Tell me what to do.”

  “Carry her into the wall.”

  The interior of the wall was beautiful and many times larger than Steven had suspected. It looked more like an advanced factory, housing vast amounts of equipment. An armada of miniature machines clinked and clacked everywhere, scurrying about the floor, walls, and ceiling, performing a variety of unknown tasks. Steven assumed most of them were dedicated to doing repairs and maintenance.

  “To your left is another room. Take her there.”

  As Steven neared the door to the next room, it slid aside. Inside—a dozen, large, glass tubes filled with a blue, effervescent liquid, bubbled. “Is that you, Keeper?”

  “It is.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “I prefer, handsome!”

  Other than the deeply resonant, authoritative voice the Keeper used, it was the first gender specific comment Steven could remember hearing the Keeper make.

  “Lay her on the table to the left of my containment tubes.”

  After gently lying her down, Steven stepped back. A hum from above drew his attention. A device swiveled around. It lowered, hovering just inches above Ashlyn. It emitted a white light and moved down the length of her body. “What is it doing?”

  “At the moment, it is scanning her molecular patterns, DNA as you call it. It will determine if there is enough intact structure in her living tissue to regenerate her original patterns.”

  “How long will it take?”

  The light stopped.

  “It is done. The spark of life yet remains within her. I have enough pieces of her original pattern to initiate the process. I am having a chamber prepared for her in the next room. You must place her inside it.”

  “She will live?”

  “She is dead as you understand death and indeed her wounds are extensive. Nevertheless, the Gifts have helped slow the loss of the spark of life in her cellular structure. To answer your question, I am unsure. I hope so.”

  “How long before we know?”

  “I do not know. I have nothing to use as a comparison.”

  “Can I help?”

  “For Ashlyn, it will be like being reborn. She will need care. Her skin will be shedding its dead and damaged cells for new ones.”

  “Do you know if her memories will be intact?”

  “If she survives. There are small pathways inside her brain—where the spark of memory is yet strong.”

  Steven remembered a term paper Renee had written back at the Academy on microtubules—the place where quantum mechanics create the conscious mind—and the place where the soul, in theory, resides. He felt encouraged. He felt hope.

  “Lord Steven—Enlil has just left Hades.”

  “He left the planet? For where?”

  “I suspect that he is gathering his forces that are scattered on the other worlds in this system, to bring them against you.”

  “Does he still have a fleet of vessels?”

  “Smaller vessels, yes. Many transports, but none that are capable of jumping out-system.”

  “Very good. Keeper, while he is away, there is something that I have to do. I need to leave for a short time.”

  “Do not worry—Ashlyn will be fine until you return. But take care not to be gone long. For there are limitations to my abilities that only you can fulfill.”

  “Keeper, before I leave there’s something that I’ve been wanting to ask you. Now that we know the second Gift is the ability to shape-shift, I don’t understand why you couldn’t have told us about it, maybe even guided us on how to use it?”

  “The Anunnaki children spend the first years of their life training and learning the disciplines of how to use it. They know that it must be allowed to grow to maturity, naturally.

  “If under duress you had sought out the Gift, calling upon it prematurely, it might have killed you. You might have changed into a form that could not survive—or was not complete. It is a powerful gift—and it was for your own protection that I did not tell you.”

  “Thank you. I understand.”

  Outside the Keeper’s wall, Steven again changed into the dragon and flew off to the city, landing in the square. When the people saw him, they scurried away in fear, hiding in the shadows. Only as he transformed into himself did they begin to humbly bow down, chanting his name, “Enki!”

  He had started something that he didn’t know how to finish.

 
Strangely, the guards were completely absent.

  Steven ran up the ramp into the palace to find its doors ajar. Slipping inside, he entered the massive room. He stood atop a long staircase lined with small torches, staring down into the heart of the pyramid.

  The centerpiece was a large, round fire-pit in the center of the room. An ornately carved dome of stone, with cutout figures and shapes, capped it. The dancing backlight of the fire within the pit brought the shapes to life, reflecting dazzling imagery on the interior walls that told a story. In one such scene, a giant Uttu loomed large on the wall—while at his feet, an Anunnaki stood, sword in hand, ready to do battle with it. The flickering light created a dreamlike motion, pitting them against one another in a never-ending battle.

  In another, fiery horses raced, pulling a colorful and well-detailed charioteer, whip in hand, as he lashed his horses. Each depiction was a monument of delicate ambiance and majestic romanticism.

  At the far end of the room, perhaps two hundred meters away, sat a massive golden throne that was backdropped by deep red, floor to ceiling drapes.

  He had to admit, Enlil had a style of elegance that was unparalleled.

  From Steven’s high vantage point, he saw no doors, no exits, and yet, he knew there must be one.

  Having removed one of the torches, he headed down into the massive chamber. He took a wide berth around the fire-pit, for its radiating heat was intense.

  Standing before the throne, he studied the flame of his torch, watching it bend and flutter to a faint breeze. It led him to a well-concealed tunnel that might easily have escaped notice, if not for the flame.

  Behind the throne, he found a small thermal scanner hidden in the wall. With a mere wave of his hand, it closed a secret doorway in the base of the throne. Waving his hand again, the tunnel reopened. Enlil must have been in a hurry. As he entered, it lit dimly, revealing a long descending ramp.

  With each step he took, Steven’s heart sped. Though he had no expectation of finding Phillip alive, he couldn’t extinguish the pilot light of hope. If nothing else, he wanted closure.