The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (72 page)

Zadar could feel something was amiss and
asked, concerned, “Tr… Commander, is everything alright?”

“Leftenant, when I need council I’ll ask for
it...” Trisha answered curtly.

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

Trisha quickly took Zadar’s hands,
apologizing. “Please! Please forgive me.” She begged. “Troubled is
the heart of this lost child, and I must go find who I am.”

Squeezing her hands, Zadar recommended,
“Then allow me to go with you so that we will find your soul
together.”

A chill swept down across Trisha’s
shoulders. She lowered her head, staring at her feet. So much she
wanted this man to go with her, but it could not be. Whatever evil
awaited her in the darkness was deadly powerful. Few, other than
possibly herself or Gabrielle, had the strength to best this
fearsome beast. Zadar, along with a company of her best troopers,
would not survive this demon’s assault...nor might she, but try she
must.

Trisha looked up into Zadar’s face, softly
rubbing his cheek with her fingers. “You’re a wonderful man. No one
have I loved more than you. Our souls are one are they not?” She
gave him a gentle kiss on his lips then turned away, staring off
into the night. “I will journey alone this eve, for the ache in my
bones tells me it is the way it must be.”

Zadar protested, “If there is danger at your
door, then you should permit your servant to accompany you into
it!”

Trisha looked back at Zadar, he seeing the
glint of tears in her eyes. She smiled, sadly. “I go to prevent
danger, my love. If I do not return, then danger may find you. So
prepare yourself and put the night watch on alert. Pray that it is
nothing more than bad wine in my head that has given me these
visions.”

This was not at all to Zadar’s liking. He
began to argue.

Trisha raised her hand, frowning.
“Leftenant, I have given you a direct order. See that it is carried
out.” Waiting for no reply, she spun about and hurried away into
the night.

* * *

Chill breezes waxed into cold gusts as they
were funneled between the buildings and through the litter-strewn
streets of the deserted Navy base. Old shutters swung back and
forth, crashing against shattered windows, the woman warily looking
up as she passed by below. Ears were of no value this night, the
rattling of loose roofing and boards too tumultuous. Eyes faired
little better, what with the dancing shadows of ghostly debris
flitting about in careless abandon.

Along the narrow alley, an occasional
streetlight attempted to push away the blackness by casting its
sickly pall into the night. At least the work crews had succeeded
in returning power to this part of the Navy depot. This might serve
her well should the battle be forced inside the opaque walls of the
surrounding buildings, which was probably going to be the
situation.

Trisha stayed to the shadows, attempting to
avoid the litter of broken crates and their scattered contents to
maintain a silent pace. It was not easy. Abandoned when news of the
Great War’s Armistice arrived, the military complexes of Oros
became little more than a haunt for the horned owl and other spooks
of the animal world. When Garlock took up manufacturing here, his
people hastily scoured the abandoned shops and warehouses for
needed machinery and equipment, leaving a haphazard clutter behind,
no place being more affected than the warehouse district, where
Trisha currently found herself.

Coming to an unlit alley off to her left,
Trisha stopped to listen, not with ears, but her mind. She
remembered well the First Law of Physics in EbenCeruboam: that
frequency - sound, even unheard sound - passing through an energy
field altered the state of energy within the field, changing its
properties. Depending upon the frequency’s waveform and amplitude
or power, energy would freeze – solidify - into certain patterns or
shapes. If that frequency’s amplitude remained constant, the
patterns would also, thus producing what the children called
‘matter’. (Note:
In the study of EbenCeruboam, this core energy
was called the ‘first element’, while frequency was the ‘second
element’.)

She also knew that by projecting and
focusing the frequency created within her own brain, she could read
the elemental world about her. This ‘sixth sense’, as some from her
world referred to it, was merely the brain’s ability to collect
feedback frequencies. Collecting the feedback was the easy part.
Successfully interpreting it was a bit more difficult. This ability
to use what some called the ‘Third Eye’ was the tricksy part, not
easily mastered.

Trisha had done her studies, knew well the
principles of these laws, but she now regretted having failed to
master them through recommended practice, depending on her eyes and
ears because it had been the easy thing to do. True, she had her
multicolored onyx ring given her by the Lord of the universe, but
even it did not provide the assistance she desired this night. This
the woman puzzled over. Usually in times of danger, such as at the
Prisoner Exchange, a warm, reassuring pulse could be felt flowing
up through her arm, refreshing mind and heart, sharpening her wit.
Tonight the ring slept, cold and heavy upon her finger.

Lifting her head to
s
niff the breeze,
Trisha could sense her adversary’s uncloaked anger. Too careless it
was, revealing its presence so openly… or was she being drawn into
a trap? She sniffed again, head tipped back with eyes closed. The
demon’s harmonics appeared not to have changed. Trisha sighed a
troubled breath, feeling she had not yet been discovered, a sweaty
palm fondling the hilt of the derker blade given her by
Lowenah.

Oh for the courage she possessed at the
Prisoner Exchange! Tonight was so different, her confidence waning
with each passing moment. What was the matter? The woman’s inner
voice had warned her of hidden danger should this course be
pursued, and now the growing discord in the harmonics reinforced
that warning. Indeed, the very breeze whispered for her to take
flight.

But what else was there for it? If this
satanic monster were not checked, it might sweep ruin across the
city. She was the ‘sword of destiny’ that must bring this
evil
to a finish! Gripping the hilt of her sword and
focusing on the task at hand, Trisha sighed again, resigned, and
began quietly making her way into the pressing gloom.

The ominous black shape of a gigantic
building slowly rose before her, blotting out the glow in the sky
of the many distant furnaces feeding Garlock’s ever-hungry
factories with the precious metals needed to create his weapons of
war. The field marshal slowly pulled her sword from its scabbard,
silently regretting not bringing the sidearm the man had gifted her
with.

How foolish it had been to think so
chivalrously of bladed combat, the look of life escaping a defeated
foe, and the bloodied sword resting in the victor’s hand. What if
her opponent had no such aspirations, desiring only victory without
celebration? In that case, the battle might be quick, the
vanquished seeing little more than a flash before life was
extinguished. How foolish the sword, yes, the symbol of authority.
But no longer master of the battlefield, why had she been so brash
to believe it otherwise? Too late…

Working her way along the side of the old
warehouse, Trisha eventually came to a service door hanging loose
on its hinges. She carefully wiggled through the narrow opening
into the blackness within. So dark it was, to make it impossible to
see a thing. Closing her eyes to concentrate on her task at hand,
the woman reached out with her harmonic senses to view this
secreted world with her mind. With a great deal of effort, her
surroundings started to take on shape and meaning.

The contents within remained little changed
from the day the children set down their tools and walked away from
here, Garlock’s scavengers not yet having made their presence felt.
Row upon row of crates and pallets remained untouched, stacked
almost to the ceiling, their narrow aisles between excellent places
to set a trap. This place was not to Trisha’s liking at all. She
should leave, drawing her opponent out into the open, but pride was
awake now - pride and over-confidence. Had she not bested the Great
Worm? How could his demented creation be more dangerous?

Straining to feel the surrounding harmonics,
Trisha could sense the slow beating of a heart and the easy,
rhythmic breathing of a body resting, possibly asleep. Asleep, she
doubted, but resting, being blissfully ignorant of approaching
danger? Possible... She smiled to think how easy a victory this
might become. Then she frowned, disappointed at the thought that
this might not be the glorious battle she had envisioned.

Carefully studying the shadowy pictures in
her mind as she crept along a wall of piled crates, Trisha
eventually reached the far end of the building. The passage on this
end traversed the length of the warehouse, having several narrow
exits that cut into the bowels of this mountain of stacked
containers - a dangerous place, indeed, if happened on by surprise.
Yet that was the woman’s destination, only
she
intended to
do the surprising.

As she stealthily passed by each opening off
the main aisle, Trisha would lift her head to sniff the breeze, so
to speak, until stopping in front of one where she felt the
harmonic scent to be the strongest. Steeling herself, she started
down the long corridor in search of her prey.

It was wearisome and trying to her soul as
Trisha carefully made her way along the narrow corridor that was
little more than an arm’s width from wall to wall on either side of
her, and there were so many things she must be concentrating on at
the same time. She found it was easier to remain focused by keeping
her eyes closed tight. Even so, the woman realized it would be a
simple matter to miss a little detail or two, something that might
prove costly should the enemy have set a trap.

She was deep inside the cavernous gulch when
it exploded into a caldron of blinding light that pierced closed
eyes, sending a numbing pain through her head. Instinctively,
Trisha reeled to her left, keeping her sword held high as she spun
into a metal container with a crash and a cry. Feeling a new
intrusion in the harmonics, she dove backwards for the floor,
tumbling heels over head, and landed up in a crouching position,
feet spread, facing a giant, ghostly form standing a few paces in
front of her.

Trisha considered herself fortunate to have
had her eyes closed at the moment the overhead lights erupted to
life. She paid no heed to them earlier, feeling them no threat and
having other, more serious matters to consider. It was too late to
debate strategy, for now there were far more pressing concerns. Her
head was racked with searing pain, and only now she was beginning
to gather her wits about her. Already the field marshal should be
dead because, for an instant, she had been completely helpless and
open to attack, yet no assault had come.

Eventually her eyes adjusted to the bright
ceiling lights. What she saw astonished her! There, only a few
paces’ distance, stood a giant nearly as tall as Eutychus, but
comely in form like a woman. Armored in steel-covering chainmail to
the knees, iron boots with calf-high copper leggings, and a spiked
full helm that hid all but eyes and mouth, the creature brandished
a drawn, double-edge derker sword with a blade over two short
cubits in length.

Taking a step forward and planting its feet
wide, the giant warrior muttered derisively, “It moves
fast
for something so
fat and ungainly!
Screams out to the sky in
dread and fear, yet seeks its path to coming destruction so
willingly...”

Trisha cocked her head in surprise. The
voice was certainly that of a woman’s, and the musical lilt in its
speech told tales of a song maiden. What kind of an evil invention
of Satan’s was this vile thing, a temptress singing it Siren’s song
to lure the unwary to their deaths? Whatever it was, such trickery
did not work on this woman. She would break the monster’s
enchanting spell.

She snarled contemptuously, “What reward
does the
cowardly Whoremaster
offer
his bitch-child
to sing my death song? Is it with
wine
or a
donkey’s
cock
that you will be paid?!”

The woman creature’s eyes blazed in rage,
her reply a tempestuous roar. “No
whore
am
I!
And
my master no coward!
I am come a
free
woman to rid this
world of
fornicating tricksters
such as
you
who
pollute
this world by your very breath, whose words of
praise hide the poison of vipers! My Master… my God… you have
humiliated! How you have been allowed to live until now is beyond
my comprehension!”

Trisha contemptuously replied, “Your
Lord
of the Maggots
deserves only
death
- a gift I would have
willingly proffered if my hand was not checked at the last
moment!”

Enraged, the woman creature bellowed,
“How dare you blaspheme the rightful Ruler of these
worlds?! Die!”
She raised her sword high, grasping it with both
hands while leaning forward to charge the attack.

Trisha did the same, watching with curiosity
as the woman creature stared dumbly up at her own sword. The
flaming white fire that had been accompanying the green flames on
the derker blade suddenly died away, leaving the woman spellbound
and momentarily distracted. Well, she was not distracted.

Instantly sizing up the matter, Trisha
noticed the smallest of chinks in her enemy’s armor, a gap of a
finger-width between the chain mail and copper leggings, exposing
part of the person’s knee. In a heartbeat, she dove forward, sword
swiping low and fast toward her adversary.