by Ava D. Dohn
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The last thing Darla remembered was Ardon’s face, his worried smile, and his promise that he would not leave. Then the world around her went gray and she found herself falling into a fathomless void. Down and down the girl plummeted until the darkness turned into blackness and then into nothing.
She awoke in a field of aster blossoms, surrounded by a forest of dark evergreens, with a view of snow-capped mountains far in the distance. A scent of honeysuckle hung heavy upon the air, stinging the woman’s nostrils with overpowering sweetness. The brightness of the late morning sun was almost blinding. Indeed, the overwhelming intensity of this world pummeled the senses with its un-natural glory. Slowly and cautiously, Darla pushed herself back on her knees and warily stood.
Where was this strange place? Where were the Shikkeron, its crew, Ardon? Why was she even here? Darla’s head throbbed and her memory was foggy. There was a sense of unease and foreboding this mesmerizing landscape couldn’t dispel, possibly even contributing to that feeling. Her hand went to her side and she involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief. Phulakee still rested peacefully in its scabbard. Somehow, having that weapon along was reassuring. After scrutinizing her surroundings, the woman started off toward the nearby wood.
Darla had not gone far when some movement at the edge of the forest caught her eye. She abruptly halted, hairs going up on the back of her neck for no apparent reason. But she felt it must be an overcautious fear, one borne from too many battles with a treacherous enemy. Then suddenly, out from the darkness of the wood and into the shadows of the trees stepped the man she loved more than life itself.
Darla squealed, “My Euroaquilo!” With arms outstretched, the girl ran toward him. About five paces away from the man, Darla stopped. Euroaquilo had not moved out from the protective forest shade to greet her. He stood tall and distant, grinning, eyes twinkling, beckoning her to come to him. Something was not right.
When Darla did not advance, Euroaquilo spread his arms to offer embrace and sang sweet refrains of endearment. “My child, dearest of all my sisters, oh, how much I have desired your embrace. You do not know how deep the anguish of my heart has been for your love, or how much the longing for your gentle, sweet kiss.”
Darla cocked her head as if listening to whispers of similar songs, smooth words from not so long ago. Something was amiss, but what? She casually rested her left hand on the hilt of her sword. Then, with the innocence of a flirting young maiden, she asked, “Why, my Lord, will you not come with me to refresh yourself in the field, where I will sing songs of love to you midst the glorious flowers?”
Euroaquilo frowned. “No, my dear one. Let us be away from here!”
Darla acted coy and said nothing.
Euroaquilo became impatient. “What have you to say? Shall we take our leave?”
Darla hesitated and then took another step. She stopped and offered a flirting comment. “The cooing love songs of a dove make a lonely heart flutter with desire…”
Euroaquilo’s face beamed with a huge smile, as if having gained some victory.
Darla’s tone instantly changed for the next refrain. “And the squawks of a parrot are but the words of his master!” She lunged forward while drawing her sword and, in less than the heartbeat, was sending it crashing down on the skull of this impostor.
In an explosion of blinding light, Darla was lifted up, thrown back, and sent tumbling to the ground. Coming to her senses quickly, the woman jumped up, preparing to battle, only to see that the world around her had radically changed. She was now standing in the middle of a charred and broken plain. In the distance were angry, black mountains upon which sheets of crimson lightning constantly crashed, sending out quakings of earth-shaking thunders. When the woman’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that a horde of hideous, half-man/half-demon warriors skulked in the surrounding blackness, grotesque beast-men all too familiar and chilling.
From the middle of the pack, a giant, fanged minotaur with glowing red eyes and two long, curved horns protruding from the sides of its head strode forward. It stopped a few paces away and half grunting, half growling, shouted down to the woman, “Fool! How dare you come into my land unarmed and with none of your guardians to protect you?!” It pointed a threatening, clawed finger. “For all these many days I have observed you, hiding and watching, waiting for this hour…the hour when I had grown to no longer need you. Still, I cared for you and offered you to become my queen, but you rejected me. Now you must die!”
Darla did not cower. She spat back, “You are a shit-worm maggot, bastard child of a warped and twisted mind! The darkness of eternal despair is sweeter than an hour being showered with your choicest gifts!”
The beast cursed an oath in anger, “You shall not die, then! I will give you your wish! As a slave in my house for all time I will make you! Every act of torture and pain I heap upon others I will also give to you! You will do for me my acts of vengeance, while feeling the agony and torment of the victims you destroy! For you, death will be but a wistful passion of unfulfilled desire!”
The demon stretched its arms wide and began to grow in immensity until its head nearly touched the heavens. It reached down and grabbed the startled woman, crushing her in its giant talons. With scathing denunciations, the demon cackled, “See! I am free of your dismal mind, for I have grown beyond your petty thoughts. There are others waiting near, willing to take me into their minds and offer me respite from your cesspool of drivel. One comes close even now! I will drain the power from your spirit to transfer myself over to them, taking your shriveled soul along as my eternal slave!” The monster erupted in gloating, maniacal laughter, sending violent tremors across the landscape.
Another voice shattered the night. Someone shouted up from the darkness to the beast-demon, “You shall not have your way with this child! Release her and go into the endless abyss that even now awaits your father!”
“Who dares to threaten me!?” The beast-man screeched with contempt.
Out of the darkness stepped a cloaked and hooded figure, a radiant glow emanating from under his hood. “I am Phulakee and I, too, have waited these many days for this hour. Now, hand over my daughter and be off into nothingness!”
The demon roared in boastful contempt, “Who is Phulakee so that I must listen to his voice?! No warrior sent against me has succeeded. What makes Phulakee think he can best me?”
Phulakee shouted up to the monster, “You have killed yourself! And there is no helper for you! By removing your spirit from the child, you have destroyed your own life.” He pointed a cloaked arm at the monster and taunted, “The soul of the girl cannot leave her! She cannot become dead in the flesh!”
With uncertainty, the monster cried, “You lie! When I am finished with her, I will destroy you!” It clasped its talons together around Darla and lifted its head high in concentration, attempting to extract the girl’s mind from her body. Nothing happened. The demon monster looked down at Phulakee, a glint of discerning fear in its eyes. It tried once more. Still nothing… The import of Phulakee’s words gradually began to sink in.
The demon had pulled himself away from the fabric of Darla’s mind and now it needed the living power from it to enable a transfer into the mind of a new, willing host. If it didn’t succeed soon, its own power would fade, leaving little more than fabric-dust remaining. The monster looked longingly into the girl’s mind, its old home. A sealed door now barred any hope of reentry.
Seizing the moment, Phulakee spread his arms and grew in stature until he was standing taller than the demon. Throwing off his cloak, he shouted, “I am the child’s Cherub! You are but a poor imitation of my immortal glory! Now be off!”
At that, a sword-like fire shot from Phulakee’s hand, cutting the arms from the monster. The Cherub reached out with his other hand and caught the falling child. Then, with that same burning sword, plunged it through the heart of t
he beast-man. Piercing cries rent the gloomy darkness as the beast and all its evil hordes exploded into dissolving flames.
At that instant, far across space, Asotos shot upright in his bed, clutching his head in merciless agony, as if part of his brain were being violently burned with an intense fire. For several days, the pain did not leave him.
In another bed, in a room far above the tumult of the Palace City, Mihai awoke from a torrid nightmare of monsters and demons to a feeling of release and reassurance, somehow understanding that her demon within would one day die. Letting out a sigh of anxious relief, her eyes again closed and she fell into a long, death-like sleep.
Phulakee wrapped his arms around Darla and tenderly drew her in close to himself. “There, there, my little one. Sleep for now, until life again returns to your tired body.”
