The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (53 page)

“All right...” Lowenah quietly replied.

She then turned her attention to Asotos,
eying him. “Until Salem’s Day, I have sworn, and so have you, to
promised oaths. Forces there are, far beyond my control, which will
assure me that you will keep your word in these matters. How you
fare, though, in truth or lies, is up to you.”

Without waiting for a reply, Lowenah ordered
her people to take their leave, and turned her horse about. She
called back over her shoulder in passing, “Tomorrow... tomorrow...
There will not always be a
tomorrow
to set matters aright.
Today that ending hour is swiftly coming.”

In relatively short order, both sides were
departed, leaving behind a smattering of discarded goods, abandoned
wagons and broken equipment. The murdered dog remained untouched,
even though its killing sword was a finely crafted derker blade. In
the stark brilliance of morning’s sunlight, the reality of future
days was scathingly revealed upon the blistered, empty plain. A war
of desolation was soon coming, its portent revealed here in this
destitute world. The die had been cast, the players on the board
put in motion. Open were the gates, the horses already running
hard. It was now come to be a race to the finish.

Not a soul placed a foot on EremiaPikros
until long after Salem’s Day. There the naked truth of
future’s
hour still lay untouched. Trisha’s prophetic words
were found to have become devastatingly true. The world did burn,
worlds burned, consumed in unbridled rage, unprecedented.
Ruthlessness became king for an hour, and Hell was delivered to
Heaven. In those hopeless times, Death hunted all men, good and
evil. Few chose to remember those evil days, and yet none who
survived them could forget. EremiaPikros stood as one of the
countless monuments forcing their memory.

There, after the many long years of war, the
bones of a murdered dog rested undisturbed, the killing weapon’s
hilt still pointing defiantly skyward. Into this world came a man,
witness to the violence of that day, and the creator of many cruel
machines used in that coming war. That same man, now sworn to peace
eternal, surveyed the surroundings, remembering that day so long
ago. Beside him stood his lover, recently returned from the ashes
of hopeless despair. She, too, remembered that day, or what parts
of it were hers to remember, pondering all that was and all that
might have been. Quietly the two stood there, remembering the hour,
the oaths, and the final fury that hour led to.

The man, now at peace with himself and the
universe around him, took out pen and paper and gathered up his
feelings about that hour when the universe was forever changed.
‘Tis the poet’s song:

“
They gathered on this torrid plain,

To decide the fate of kingdoms’ kings.

To the sands of EremiaPikros, the nations did all
come.

Hopes were high, for seeing better times,

For this could prove the counselors’ finest
hour.

But on the darkness swirled cruel, chill winds,

Beckoning ill, and for Death to follow.

Thunders rolled, and mountains shook,

The heralds cried, “Be gone! Be gone!”

And the children fled from before the gods,

Who clashed their might with word and deed.

Until I, alone, am left remain,

Upon this field, upon this plain.

I guard the trust of this hostile stead,

Protecting these fields of barren sand.

Yes, I alone guard this wasted land.

The stone of Rhiannon into the sea was cast,

Sending a bloody torrent raging past.

Kingdoms fell and worlds crashed,

They asked for the victor’s crown at last.

And the maidens wept, and the mother mourned,

Waiting for their souls to be reborn.

To wait for that day, I am, I am.

But until…

Crumbling bones and rusting steel,

Lay here in patient ease,

Awaiting the day of their release.

Yes for the day,

When all the maidens fair will end their grief.

Then they will come…

…
to bury me in lasting peace.”

(Author’s note:
Written in the high tongue
of the day, translation into today’s common speech does this poetic
song gross injustice. I have attempted to remain true to the spirit
of its meaning, thus leaving rhyme and melody to the vivid
imagination. Such a sad truth, but it is so.
)

* * *

By the time the EremiaPikros flotilla
rendezvoused with the main fleet, and the exchange goods were
transferred over to Asotos’ flagship, the super carrier, AugustOne,
the mood of the men and officers was festive. Asotos had talked up
the day as being filled with one outstanding success after another.
Generous he was also, distributing a great deal of spoil out to his
officers, and opening the ships’ larders to the general crews.
Tonight was to be a night of celebration.

Wine flowed aplenty across the fleet,
sailors and soldiers making a merry time of it. The celebration
aboard the AugustOne was even more high spirited. Asotos permitted
some of the female junior officers to join their male colleagues in
the main lounge, they providing part of the erotic entertainment
for those who found pleasure in such delights.

Much of the music played by the AugustOne’s
orchestra was sensuous and provocative - of course, being mixed
with a generous smattering of patriotic and inspirational
selections. This regaling atmosphere made for the occasional
discreet
interlude, Asotos feeling that certain displays of
male
affection
needed to be reserved for more private
encounters. On the other hand, the women were taken when, where,
and how the men chose to do so, they being considered little more
than part of the evening’s entertainment.

While boisterous revelry proceeded with near
abandon all about the lounge’s main ballroom, things were much more
orderly and subdued at the admiral’s table. From that vantage
point, the entire ballroom could be observed. Also, because of it
being a few steps above the main floor, all those on the lower
level could easily see the goings on up there as well. Although
wine flowed and merriment was aplenty, there remained an air of
authority and aloofness among those celebrating.

The captains from other fleet ships and
invited ranking officers would, after building up the courage, one
by one, make occasion to step up to the admiral’s table, offering
their congratulations to their supreme commander for his
outstanding victory over such an evil foe. Asotos, always the most
generous and beguiling host when in the public’s eye, would smile
humbly and bow his head in shyness, thanking them for their
unwarranted praise, and then would return a compliment of some sort
to them.

It was after the orchestra was finished
playing ‘Humble Shall All Mighty Men Walk’, a song taken by Asotos
as his personal anthem, that the standing audience’s attention was
turned to their glorious leader as he stood to address them.
Lifting his glass high, he saluted the maker of its contents.
“Here’s to Medeba! Her sorcery with the grape and flower has been
forever unmatched. Today we have procured some of the last of her
witching brew. Drink up and enjoy! Drink to her long-secreted arts
that no other person has been able to master.”

Everyone lifted their glasses high and sang
out their praises to the fine wine, and to Asotos’ outstanding
diplomacy in obtaining this rare drink. Truth be said, there were
only a few dozen bottles of this very rare drink delivered into
Asotos’ hands, and these were already thousands of years aged,
Medeba having been deceased these many millennia now. From wine
cellars hidden deep in the mountain east of Palace City were the
few bottles taken for the Prisoner Exchange, and more precious was
the elixir in weight than the finest of emeralds and sapphires. So
it was that, other than the pure drink being enjoyed at the
admiral’s table, the remainder of the company received a very
much-diluted taste, mixed with ordinary wine.

Asotos went on to praise the heroic deeds of
his officers in the face of such overwhelming odds, giving
honorable mention by name to several of them, including Godenn.
This was important to do considering that the League of Brothers
remained welded together on the premise that leadership was a
cohesive body of one, for one, and with one. Of course, Asotos
listed off the names of the brave soldiers
murdered
, seeking
a moment of silence, after which he promised revenge for those
atrocities.

He then asked his loyal vice chancellor for
the League of Brothers, Legion, to stand up beside him. For several
minutes, he offered his accolades regarding Legion’s remarkable
negotiating prowess during the Prisoner Exchange. The enthusiastic
response of the audience was due in part to Asotos’ charismatic
nature and captivating oratory. This was their leader at his
greatest, when the wine relaxed his tongue so that his words flowed
as smoothly as the intoxicating drink washed across the palate.

At the end of his speech, Asotos drew the
company’s attention to a person recently arrived at the admiral’s
table. “My loyal brothers,” Asotos lifted his hands before
extending them outward to his audience. “long we have warred
against an evil foe that has attempted our destruction. Through
deception, lies, and other hideous forms of subversion, the witch
of darkness, Erithia, has maintained control over her kingdom, all
the while twisting truth to keep the followers of the Children’s
Empire loyal and obedient to her sinister machinations.”

He grinned, motioning for that newly arrived
person to join him. I would like to introduce you to one of our new
officers, Captain IlaniyaDeCapreiat.”

There was subdued applause, but for the most
part the majority of the crowd politely stood there, many the faces
filled with curiosity, some with misgivings. Asotos smiled. This
was what he had hoped for, expected. Ilaniya was not a stranger to
the League of Brothers. She was an Ancient and an outspoken
protagonist of the League. Most often serving as Erithia’s liege or
aide to the one of her councils, the woman was also a competent
soldier and qualified officer. Her face was widely recognized among
those in the crowd, thus the reason for their reaction to her
introduction.

“Men! Brothers!” Asotos lifted his hands
high. “Well it is that this person has come to our aid in this
hour. Long have I spoken of the evil and injustice done to us by
the Mother of Witches. Well, here among us stands one of the most
loyal and outspoken advocates of that she-beast! When the curtain
of falsehood and lies was finally removed from before her, she just
begged to be allowed to remain among us, wishing to lend her
support to bringing defeat to the Children’s Empire, and forcing
the Evil One from her palace.”

He shouted cheerfully. “Please give Captain
Ilaniya a warm welcome!”

This time the crowd was enthusiastic, the
room filling with applause and the occasional salutation. It
mattered little why or how the woman came to change loyalties, or
what kind of persuasion was used to accomplish it. Most of the men
in this room were high-ranking officers, familiar with and
practiced in the various arts and methods used to obtain desired
objectives. They learned long ago not to ask questions regarding
these kinds of matters.

Smiling while putting his arm around
Ilaniya’s shoulders, the chancellor over the League of Brothers
announced, “The captain, here, is my personal attaché. My
expatiation is for her to be respected and treated as a woman of
station should be. I would personally be offended should report
come to me concerning otherwise.”

He then commanded Ilaniya to step forward
and bow before the assembled throng. This sent the important
message that Ilaniya was still subservient to the male officers and
thus subject to their demands, within reason. Ilaniya being a
personal possession of Asotos, it would be wise for the others to
tread lightly when it came to the woman’s physical treatment.

As sick at heart as Ilaniya was, she
breathed a sigh of relief, believing the random acts of rape and
violence - ‘partying’ as it was often called by the men - such as
she was witnessing this evening, would not be as common for her as
it was for most of the other women. Oh, yes, female officers were
untouchable for the lower ranks, but among their fellow male
officers, they were little more than objects for entertainment. No
matter the humiliation heaped upon them, or discomfort endured,
they were to act as if they desired it, enjoyed it, and even
requested it. To do otherwise might well get them a ride under the
horses, or a night with the dogs.

As soon as Ilaniya stood erect, Asotos
grabbed her arm and directed the woman toward a chair at the table
next to his, he wishing not to risk the woman making a statement or
remark that might dampen this grand moment. Motioning the stewards,
who were waiting with more food and drink to attend the crowd, the
League’s chief potentate invited everyone to continue along with
the celebration. As the music resumed and the boisterous chatter
began again to fill the room, Asotos retired to his chair, sitting
down so as to face the crowds below.

A waiter hurried over with a plate of hot
victuals and a crystal glass filled with the finest Medeba wine,
placing it down in front of Ilaniya. She quietly sat there, staring
at the food, her stomach far too queasy to consume it.

While lifting his glass to toast the others,
Asotos leaned over and whispered in Ilaniya’s ear, “Eat it all up,
like you’re enjoying it, or I’ll give you over to the scum-weeds
down below us to celebrate with. They know how to treat a woman.
Most survive - takes a little getting used to, though - toughens
them up, too. Tomorrow they will be required to show up for duty.
No slackers in my military! Now eat!”