The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (38 page)

Legion dallied by delivering the captives to
the staging area one at a time, leaving the others to wait aboard
the prison barge until their respective turns came. Captain Kutill
followed up the rear of the line, his 1
^st
officer
assisting him with the Zephath’s communications officer. The woman
was so badly beaten and abused, she could not stand without the aid
of her comrades. With their arms locked together around her, and
her arms over their shoulders, the three slowly made their way
toward the other hostages. All the while, Legion’s guards bullied,
prodded, and cajoled the three into hurrying it up.

Mihai was enraged.
“Give us our people
...
now
!”
She shouted, angrily shaking
her hand at Legion.

He grinned sinisterly, extending an opened
palm. “You have not done well with your count. We are not
finished.”

He looked over his shoulder, nodding to
someone near a distant tracked machine. In a riotous explosion of
noise, the iron monster sprang to life, sending a black cloud of
smoke belching skyward. Amid the thunderous throbbing of its
massive engine, the ancient tractor slowly began to move toward the
crowd.

Lowenah’s children stopped, mouth agape in
amazement and wonder as this behemoth from ages past came lumbering
toward them. This was undoubtedly some deserted relic of a
long-forgotten mining operation that been resurrected by Asotos’
people for the Prisoner Exchange. His mechanics must have labored
countless hours to make it operational. If the intent of doing so
was to garner attention, then Asotos had been successful.

Heavy steel tread plates tore deep into the
loose sand, their well-worn rusty grousers tossing it about as they
sank deep to gain traction for the heavy load the machine was
pulling. Out of the belching smoke and swirling dust came the iron
monster, trailing three metal boxcar skids behind it. The first car
was an old ore container with a door installed in its side, the
second a supply car, and the third, former living quarters for the
miners and crew.

The tractor had been parked nearly half a
league from where Lowenah’s children were. Anxious moments seemed
to drag on endlessly as the giant hulk struggled forward, the
tortured squeal of its heavy drive chains at times the only
indication the machine was still moving. Ponderously the monster
neared, the pungent stench of its oily, burnt smoke wafting across
the breeze, heralding its arrival. As if with a dying breath, the
tractor lunged forward in one final gasp before screeching to a
stop about three rods behind Legion’s front line. The engine
coughed again and died, sending one last plume of noxious smoke
skyward. Then all was quiet.

The sudden silence filling the air was
nearly as deafening as the roar of the beast preceding it. No one
spoke, few dared even breathe. For Mihai’s people, it was the
torture of the suspense waiting to see what horrid secrets lay
hidden behind the sealed doors of the cars. For Legion and his
conspirators, it was the intrigue of drawing out the suspense until
Mihai and her people were stretched to their limit.

Legion carefully watched Mihai. When she was
nearly at her breaking point, he addressed her. “For reasons beyond
our control, we were forced to transport some of your rescued
prisoners by means of this conveyance. As you will see, we have
done what was considered best under the circumstances.” At that, he
lifted his hand high, signaling to others behind him.

The door of the middle car squealed on it
tracks, opening to disgorge two-dozen heavily armed storm-troopers
onto the burning sands. Several of the troopers hurried to the
forward car. As its rusty door grudgingly opened, several men on
the ground grabbed their noses, laughing while pointing toward the
door. Finally, an officer in charge ordered half a dozen of the men
inside to retrieve the contents hidden in the darkness.

Complaining loudly, the troopers entered the
boxcar to return quickly with a long black bag, which they promptly
tossed from the door. Hitting the ground with a squishing thud, the
bag ruptured, spilling part of its rotting contents into the
sand.

What was spilt out of the torn bag upon the
sands? What was Asotos up to? Necks craned while curious eyes
carefully searched to see what this was all about. It was not until
the second bag splat open upon the ground that the sickening smell
of death and rot finally swept over Mihai’s people. These bags
contained no rubbish, but the decomposing bodies of friends and
lovers!

Six more large black bags were
unceremoniously dumped from the door of the car, each time the bag
splitting asunder when hitting the ground. Mihai’s people erupted
into an angry tumult, some falling to their knees in uncontrolled
weeping, others smashing fists upon shields and armor as they
howled toward the sky for war and revenge.

Mihai was on the very edge herself when
Legion lifted his hands to speak. If not for the dread that might
fall upon the bound hostages, Mihai would have drawn her weapon and
skewered the man with her blade. She screamed,
“The Pits of the
Damned are too good a place for the likes of your kind! Shall I
call out to all the beasts of Hell, would they be willing to gather
your worthless carcasses to their feasts?!”

Legion frowned in a long, sad face, shouting
above the uproar, cautioning, “This is a peaceful place of moot, an
exchange for the ones we love. ‘War’ and ‘vengeance’ are words I
hear. Has it come to this, that we must defend ourselves from
uncalled-for
violence? Do you wish to force our hand in
defense of ourselves this day? This, I may add, being a righteous
defense, for we have come only in peace to you to settle matters
through conference and dialog.”

“
Peaceful?!”
Mihai
shrieked, pointing to her dead companions.
“How do
you call that peaceful?!”

Shouting back, Legion demanded,
“Silence
your ruffians or there will be no more exchange!”

As Mihai attempted to quiet her people,
Legion scanned the gathered crowd. Puzzled, he watched two men off
to Mihai’s left. All this day they had not involved themselves with
goings on. Even now they appeared to be distant concerning the
things happening. More troubling still was that the gray-cloaked
people scattered about the crowd remained stoic, watching events,
the same as was the officer standing close to Mihai’s side. What
was up with these people? Did they have no fellow feeling for their
imprisoned comrades?

Truth be said, Paul and Jonathan were
distraught over the things witnessed but for them it was the
natural course of matters in the worlds from which they had come.
Rulers routinely tortured, burnt, disfigured, imprisoned, raped,
and… and practiced every other sort of sadistic abuse upon the
victims of their choosing. Not only were the two men witness to
such things, each had received a rich helping of that same abuse at
various times in their lives. How was this any different? This was
saddening and true, but not out of the ordinary, at least from
their personal observations.

The gray-cloaked people? Well… feelings were
not allowed this day. They were on a mission under the direction of
the field marshal. Warning they had been provided by her concerning
the possible state of affairs that might exist this day, and orders
given to not fall prey to such deviltry no matter the depth or
range of the depravity witnessed. Silently, each of Trisha’s
salient warriors faithfully obeyed those orders, regardless the
cost to heart or mind.

When things had settled down, Legion lifted
his arms, shaking his hands as though in defense of earlier events.
“My brothers! My brothers! We are all brothers here, once close
companions one and all. The stress of the hour has also been
difficult on my people as well as yours. The Outlanders were not
kind to their prisoners, a few passing along despite our most
diligent efforts. I do apologize for any possible inappropriate
conduct on the part of a few of these simple soldiers, but under
the circumstances it might well have been expected.”

Mihai’s hand suddenly flew to her head, a
searing pain racing through her brain. A sinister voice from deep
within the woman’s mind began a chiding rant. “Strike him down!
Strike out in revenge for your loved ones! Strike him down! Strike
him to death! Do it! Do it! Do it!”

Through a blinding headache, Mihai looked up
to see Asotos staring at her, a rapidly vanishing smile indicating
his involvement in this demon attack. Fighting the urge to obey the
monster’s command, she forced her hand down to her side, shouting a
defiant insult at her enemy.
“Go fuck your
girly-man, you whore lover!”

Asotos’ face went white with rage as he
clenched his teeth to remain silent. If he said a word to Mihai,
Legion would no longer be his spokesman. Silently he stood there,
his glaring eyes casting hateful threats. At that instant, the
musical tunes of dancing bells filled the man’s head to
distraction. Cursing Lowenah did little good, she ignoring the
man’s telepathic ranting. Asotos fought to quell the frustrating
music, forgetting about Mihai.

Mihai’s verbal assault had come at great
risk to the hostages, but at least her demon was back in hiding,
and Asotos was no longer attacking her mind. As the pain quickly
ebbed, Mihai regained some of her composure. She could now turn her
attention back to Legion.

Leaning forward threateningly, she snarled,
“Give our people up to us and be done with it!”

Legion cried out defensively, his hands
flailing the air. “Be patient! Be patient! The exchanging hour is
not yet come to its finish! Look and see… more there is to come.”
He peered into a very troubled, curious, face, frowning. “Your
count has not been good. There is still more to come.”

After pausing for effect, Legion pointed
toward the third car behind the tractor. “Mind games! Yes, mind
games the Stasis do play on hapless victims of weak constitution.
Separate them we must from the others, lest such crazy madness
might infect them all. So it is, we have had to deliver this
wretched soul to you separate from the others.”

A loud, creaking noise fell upon Mihai’s
ears as a door in the side of the third car struggled to open.
Slowly and painfully, it fought against rusted rails, wailing out
warning and trepidation into the late day sky. Everything became
quiet, even the breeze dying into deathly stillness. What wretched
evil awaited the people’s eyes? What tortured debauchery had Asotos
fomented that resided in deep shadows?

Asotos grinned. Here, at last, was the final
straw. Mihai’s breaking point was driven to its limit. All day, she
had been pummeled by one ruthless assault after another. Combined
with the extreme heat, her sickness and bad visions, the demon
within, and now the new, upcoming revelations, the woman was sure
to snap. Asotos’ people would be forced to defend themselves from
the woman’s vicious attack. Yes, many of his servants would die,
but what of it? He cared for few, trusted none, any one of them
might slit his throat if given the opportunity. The reward of
having that
bitch-woman
in his grasp, and forcing Erithia
from her palace in an attempt to save her cherished child, was
worth the risk, worth the cost.

Clank!
The car door hit the end of
its tracks. Silence... Other than for the parching little breeze
that had tired of the wait, no sound could be heard coming from
either camp. What secrets awaited those outside? Why the delay of
this revelation? What was Asotos up to?

A smiling face suddenly appeared in the open
doorway. It was a chubby face, its smile full of gleaming white
teeth, eyes twinkling. It was a face more like that of a
mischievous boy than one of Asotos’ chief commanders. A hand shot
out of the darkness, waving, while the boyish-appearing face
cheerily shouted out, “Hello!”

No one in Mihai’s camp smiled back. Indeed
not! This was not the face of a mischievous boy, but that of the
vilest of men,
Godenn!
Many were the children of Lowenah who
had endured that smile while being brutally tortured in the prison
holes. Those few who survived the ordeal were forever changed,
often spending many long years rebuilding their minds and bodies in
a sanatorium. No, there were no smiles, only a collective, audible
groan that drifted skyward.

A distraught voice cried out,
“The
butcher of Memphis!”
Others took up the cry until the entire
camp was in riot.

Mihai was forced to turn to her people, with
hands waving high, ordering them to be silent. Gradually the cries
and shouts subsided. The woman then cast her gaze upon the man
standing in the doorway, her heart growing with trepidation
regarding what other secrets were to be revealed.

Godenn, a rather rotund, slovenly man,
filled the doorway as he continued his grinning wave, scanning
Mihai’s crowd. The man enjoyed watching fear and anger on people’s
faces. It made him feel powerful. No longer handsome, the ravages
of dissolute living and loathsome disease having ruined his looks,
Godenn now found his beauty in the power he wielded over others.
Fear, dread and hatred were some of the tools he used to retain
that power. What a pleasure to see that his tools were working so
effectively...

Something caught Godenn’s eye that first
made him curious and then concerned. Several of the people in
Mihai’s crowd stood, silently staring over at him, their faces
betraying no emotion or recollection of him at all. Strange,
everyone
in the empire knew Godenn or of him. He was an
Ancient, born into a world when only a few hundreds of Erithia’s
children existed. He was grand marshal at countless celebrations
and festivals. His name, GeshurPhoster, meaning ‘father of
illumination’, was later changed to Godenn – ‘the bright eye’. He
was one of the foremost of Chrusion’s councilors from days of old,
before what was called the ‘burning days’, which was the burning of
Lagandow, on up through the Second Age and into the Banishment.