The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (13 page)

Darla reached out, touching Lowenah’s upper leg,
stroking it as she had done hers. “Mother, please, one more little
question for you, just one. Should I fail in this battle tomorrow,
how will my death come?”

Lowenah stared back into Darla’s face, hers filled
with unexpected consternation. It was not a question she had
prepared for, but the girl deserved an answer, an honest one.
Lowenah sighed heavy. “My little Rachel, do you love me?”

Darla was surprised. “You know I love more than life
itself. Life is not worth living for me if you’re not in it.”

Lowenah smiled. “Then I believe you will
succeed.”

Darla frowned. “I did not ask what you believe, but
what of my death should I fail.”

Lowenah at first hesitated, but finally relented.
“You deserve to know. I will tell you.” She took Darla’s hand. “The
heart is like a two-edged sword. It can cut both ways, for good or
ill. You, for your part, must understand which way it is cutting,
for it is tricksy, wanting you to believe it has your best
interests at stake. Should you fail tomorrow, it will not be
because you have chosen wickedly, only poorly. Still, the lasting
damage will have been done that cannot be undone.”

“If you choose poorly, you will not die, not in the
flesh, not tomorrow, but your demon cure will be lost forever. The
demon that resides within you will never be cast from you, but will
grow until it and you are one in spirit and flesh, eventually
driving your insane. No rest will ever come again to your soul, no
peace, other than an eternal sleep in the Web of the Minds, if that
is even possible. I doubt I could tolerate such a future for my
little Rachel.”

A tiny shudder ran across Lowenah’s shoulders and
down her spine. She feared that eventually, in her own grief, she
might well go insane over what became of her little child, blaming
herself for all Darla’s suffering. Then, in an attempt to ease a
breaking heart, she would go wild with insane power and rage and
bring to nothing everything mortal that she had created in order to
forget the anguish.

Should that happen, the worst of her nightmares
would become reality. All her wonderful children, living and dead,
would be no more, and the Whispering Voices would see to it that
she would not remember it happening, they being the self-declared
caretakers of her heart. Later, much later, from a deep,
self-induced coma, she would one day blissfully awake to a new and
empty universe. Then, under the watchful and caring eyes of the
Whispering Voices, she would begin anew, in innocence, the making
of another universe of children to satisfy her heart.

Lowenah’s lips twitched nervously as she pondered
that uncertainty. Had this happened before, she having gone mad
with a broken heart? The Whispering Voices would never tell her. If
it had, they would make sure there would be no evidence remaining,
no clue or hint of some forgotten past. Lowenah’s heart would be
held safe. That was their charge, their chosen way of loving her.
But had it happened before, her worst nightmare, had it
happened?

Lowenah smiled weakly. She thought not. She did not
remember it to be so, and even though the Whispering Voices would
not have told her, they would have found a way to convince her to
build her new universe in an unbreakable fashion, something they
did not do. She also felt it in her bones, so to speak, that this
was the first great experiment of hers, the first of her mortal
creation. It must be so, she wished so hard for it to be so.

“What will happen then, Mother?” Darla asked,
fearing the possible answer. “What will happen to you, to my
brothers and sisters, to all those I love, if I fail?”

Gently rubbing Darla’s hand, Lowenah answered
reassuringly. “Oh, I think you worry too much. Tomorrow will bring
us success. All you need to do is be my horse maiden, and I expect
you to do a good job at it.”

Lowenah then began to fuss at Darla’s attire, asking
the girl to stand so she could have a better look. Darla knew it
was impossible for her to get any more answers from Mother now. The
girl’s heart ached with countless worried questions, but she knew
that even tears and pleadings would not pry further information
from the Maker of Worlds when the silent mood was come to her.

Darla dutifully permitted Lowenah the pleasure of
wrapping her attention around her little child. She could see the
trepidation hiding behind dancing eyes, uncertainty upon her words.
Darla decided to allow this moment, pretending not to notice.
Mother needed reassurance, too, to be made to feel there was hope,
and Darla would offer that to her as best she could.

As Darla slowly twirled, arms held high, she started
up a silly, jaunty tune sung long ago when she was but a little
child…a silly ditty, but those were the kind of tunes PalaHar sang
for little children.

“Oh come the merry spider dee,

to weave its web between the trees.

A happy song she so did sing

to catch a fly upon the wing.

But the fly did watch with its many eyes,

and in its escape, made the spider cry.

* * *

A chill raced through Euroaquilo’s shoulders
and down his back as he watched a blazing sun rise above the frozen
desert plain. In a few hours, the heat of the day would boil away
little ice droplets formed during the night, a cloudless sky
cooking all naked flesh exposed to its anger. This planet’s
harshness limited its variety of life, small lichens, bugs, snakes,
lizards, insects, and a few thick-skinned, hairy animals all that
managed to survive here.

A little tarantula-like spider scurried over
Euroaquilo’s foot, disappearing under a small stone. The man
watched until it buried itself deep, shooting small jets of sand
into the air as it searched to find some of the previous day’s
remaining warmth. The man smiled wistfully, revealing his private
concerns. “Go hide, little fella. If I could, I would do the same.”
At that moment, Euroaquilo heard the fall of familiar footsteps
behind him. He raised his field glasses one more time to scan the
horizon then turned to see who approached. “Hello, Captain
Asarel.”

“Euroaquilo! I was told that you were
wandering hereabouts.” The captain extended a hand, smiling,
lifting his other hand, shading his eyes as he studied the eastern
lands toward the rising sand dunes. “What a dismal world we choose
to make peace in. Far better for war, don’t you think?”

Euroaquilo reached out and firmly grasped
Asarel’s hand, answering with another question. “My brother, war or
peace, does it really matter? Hasn’t it always been either a
warring peace, or a peaceful war which we’ve contended with our
mischievous brother? Now, please, tell my why you’ve tramped across
these evil wastelands to find me. I hope your searching has been to
deliver good news. It would be a shame to spoil my pleasant mood so
early in the day.”

Asarel released his grip, jovially
responding, “If it was bad news, I would have sent my first
officer. No need me facing your anger this early in the day.”
Throwing his weight to one side, placing his right hand on his hip,
he looked into the sky. “Mother says the weather should be
pleasantly mild today.” He looked at Euroaquilo. “You know, when
she predicts the weather, she’s usually right.” Turning, watching a
bright orange ball slowing ascending in the turquoise-colored sky,
Captain Asarel’s long officer’s cloak fell away from his side,
revealing plated armor and a long, sheathed derker sword.

Euroaquilo smiled grimly. “You look quite
the prince of armies - a handsome prince, no less - but I supposed
you to be a sailor of ships. Why the armor?”

Asarel grinned. “Well, Admiral, you look
quite the soldier, yourself, what with your helm and side weapons.
More of a general here I see, not some commander of ships.”

Turning to face the sun, Euroaquilo sucked
in the warming air before replying. “You miss it, don’t you? I mean
the whole army thing. I do…the banners, troops of mounted cavalry,
endless rank and file of soldiers marching off in battle formation,
the horns, fifes and drums, the grand pageantry.”

He faced Asarel, studying him. The captain
was tall and muscular, broad-shouldered. His black, curling locks
and glistening, dark, swarthy skin made him look the part of a
battlefield gladiator, not some gentleman captain walking the
bridge of a front-line battle cruiser.

Asarel bowed his head, slowly nodding. “Yes,
I do miss it, at least the pageantry part…not the fighting and
killing. Still, when you and I drew our swords together on the
battle plain, it felt different. Even amongst all the carnage and
turmoil, there remained some sense of freedom. The open sky,
wandering fields and distant hills gave you height and space the
likes of which I’ve never found inside the confines of a
tin
can
that might cast you to the eternal cold of space at the
least expected moment.” He shrugged. “But someone’s got to fly
them. Might as well be us.”

He looked up into Euroaquilo’s face. “That’s
not the reason for my marshaling appearance this morning, my
friend. I’ve smelled something that makes me feel uneasy this day,
went to Mother regarding it. She said to keep my wits about me and
a keen eye. That’s why I came to talk with you. I don’t feel safe
here. A foul smell fills my nostrils and it worries me.”

Euroaquilo looked up, studying the eastern
sky. After a quiet moment, he replied, “I hoped it was just me.
Something’s queer here, and I can’t put a finger on it. It’s like a
shadow has followed us from Palace City to this place - a shadow
filled with malice - whether for good or ill, I cannot tell. It is
wise you have listened to Mother and prepared yourself. I wish our
new sister-king had done as much.”

Asarel stepped up beside Euroaquilo, his
fisted hands resting on his hips. “Brother, long have I stopped
fearing death. Indeed, at times I am overwhelmed with guilt for
having outlived so many of my companions. What I fear is our
failure to win this contest. Today… today will we really win, or
will it end as it has so many other times before? Oh yes, we’ll
bring our lost kindred home, but at what cost...another star
system, priceless trade goods, our respectability, our honor… if we
have any remaining?”

Folding his arms across his chest as he
continued to stare off toward the distant horizon, Euroaquilo
quietly answered, “We will not fail. Not this day. Mother has not
journeyed here with us to watch us fail. We may all be destroyed,
falling by the axe, spear or arrow, but we will
not
fail.”

He turned to meet Asarel’s watchful gaze.
“This is a new day in our history. The demons of Asotos’ own
witchery now ride with us. They have a
debt
to collect on.
No!
Today Asotos has a
bill
to pay! It may cost us
all whatever we still have left to lose, but it
will
be
collected. I guarantee you. The children from the Lost Abyss will
make sure of it. That Trisha person has changed the game plan. She
and the others with her - like Garlock and Copeland - they don’t
play by our rules, walking in the shadows of the moon, choosing
their moment, striking at their pleasure. Yes, sir, they are the
true
shadow walkers, being oh, so dangerous when the waning
moon fails to give its light. They have come from the grave not to
deliver our world, but to destroy it. This I believe they will do.
So it is.” He smiled grimly. “I think Mother has accompanied us
here, not to protect us as much as to check the hands of those
children from the Lost Abyss, to slow down their destructive
desires, I mean - you know, to keep things moving on her time
schedule.”

Asarel slowly shook his head, puzzling. “I
accept what you say as truthful and accurate, but for myself have
little knowledge of these strange creatures. I rode to war beside
the Lady when Aphrodite and her Dragon children raised swords
against Legion and his holy knights, but that was many ages ago and
in a world very different from this. Few are those holy Dragons
that have been delivered here. Most are just common folk who were
of low station and little importance in their old realms. I know
not what power or determination of will they possess in this world.
The few who have arrived here I have met only from a distance,
except for Commodore CythereaNoah’ha, but she acts more like our
kindred than her own. This new field marshal, TrishaQaShaibJal, and
your Garlocks, and the like…they are a complete mystery to me.
Mother chose to bring them here, but as of yet, I’ve not seen the
reason.”

Euroaquilo glanced around wearily, replying
quietly, “I can tell you this that I do know: The reason, I think,
will come soon enough, possibly as early as this prisoner exchange.
I was at the last council meeting, indeed, sitting at one of the
very council tables. That woman, Trisha, silently stared into each
of our minds, searching us the way Mother will sometimes do when
the mood is on her. I felt the woman’s power boring deep into my
soul, stripping my heart naked before her. That woman unleashed a
storm upon us that few have fully recovered from yet, and I suppose
may not recover from. Today… today she will reveal her powers
again, or at least I believe she will. Those powers may well rival
Gabrielle’s, but I doubt the woman has learned them to the full.
What Mother will allow her little darling to do is still to be
seen. But I think Asotos will be surprised, to say the least.”

Asarel’s eyes danced in wonder as he thanked
Euroaquilo for this hidden information, then apologized. “Great
would be the privilege to spend an hour, a day, listening to your
revelations and insights, but I would be remiss in my duties should
I allow that. Mother sent me in search of you, wishing your company
at breakfast. I arrived early so that we could speak concerning
matters close to my heart. Now, though, the time is past for
continued discussion. I sensed a need on Mother’s part, much like a
child when it has a secret so much to be shared. I hope you’re not
upset with my dallying in telling you.”