The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (9 page)

“You see, to repair the flesh is a relatively easy
matter, that is, with the proper machinery of course. We have
copied the designs of these machines found here to create the
healing machines we use to assist our wounded soldiers to
recuperate and heal more quickly. Still, it is mostly by the
manipulation of the surrounding harmonics that the physical process
is accomplished. When one plays in the lands of the Web and the
energy fields of the auras, one must play by different rules. We
are only the apprentices wielding the tools belonging to
master-craftsmen whose powers and wisdom we can only assume. We are
at the mercy of their designs and must play by their rules, or we
shall not succeed at all.”

Drorli waved his hand about while pointing toward
various machines. “It takes us many days of preparation and process
to return one of your kind to life. It is the way the Makers of
this temple chose it to be. We have been working on your girl for
weeks now, making her body just so, making it as perfect as we
possibly can. She is a marvel of engineering, one of our best
creations.” He grinned. “Notice I said
one
of our best.”

He looked at Hanna, searching her form with his
eyes. “I was so proud when your flesh was delivered back to life.
You were already so beautiful by nature that it was an easy thing
to adjust the mathematics of the machines to finish you up just so.
And when you first awoke in that tiny room we had prepared for you,
and as I watched your eyes flutter awake… I seeing you through
secret windows in a hidden room… I fell in love with you at that
moment. It was such an easy thing to do.”

Hanna blushed, unable to make reply.

“So!” Drorli looked back at Symeon, “We have been
diligent at reinventing the flesh of your girl, but the returning
of her spirit and all that goes with the process has been
time-consuming. Her mind must learn to accept its new home, for the
flesh it remembers was not only imperfect, but was also made from
the elements borne of your universe. Though the elements here
appear to you to be the same, their nature is different, they
designed that way… or so the Ancients have said… permitting many
universes to exist together without interfering with the laws of
the others. Now that’s a different theorem study of scientific
thought…one that I will not attempt today.”

“My friend!” Drorli patted Symeon on the shoulder,
“We put your little girl back together just so, making her one of
the most beautiful creatures we have delivered to this place.” He
paused, looking at Hanna.

Hanna blushed again.

“That!” He grinned, “The flesh was
our
creation! Now we have become the faithful workers for the
Caretakers of these worlds, carefully gathering the hidden elements
of their universes so that life can reawake again in the child’s
mind, and she can be returned safely to you. It is an arduous,
painstaking process, and one we dare not rush. It must be timed
perfectly or your girl might either linger in a coma, awaiting the
mind’s waking to its senses, or she may be traumatized and suffer
torrid dreams and unpleasant headaches for a long time. We must do
things just right.”

The
hiss!
and
clack!
of a sealed door
opening suddenly fell upon the trio’s ears. A suited woman with
long, golden tresses done up tight about her head, carrying a clear
crystal helmet, passed through the doorway, quickly closing the
door behind her. She hurried over to Drorli, offering salutations
to the others as she neared.

With a smile, the woman recommended, “I believe it’s
time for you three to suit up. We finished the
thro-bissea-dashon
process
and are beginning the
blood flow. I believe the heart will begin pumping momentarily. If
you’ll all follow me, I’ll assist you with the preparations that
will permit you entry into the clean room.”

In a short while the four had managed to suit up and
had exited the cleansing chambers. Now they stood before the
sealed, domed crystal sarcophagus that contained the body of
Symeon’s child. Murky fluid that had been used during the process
where inert elements in the genetic strands of DNA were replaced
with the actual Web particles of the girl’s mind was slowly
draining away, exposing the naked flesh of the girl reborn.

Symeon fussed a little when the girl’s natural
beauty was revealed, but quickly forgot that when he witnessed her
lungs take their first gasp of air and heard, through special
listening devices inside the sarcophagus, the quiet
thump,
thump, thump
of the child’s beating heart.

“She’s alive!” Symeon shouted through the speaking
tube inside his helmet, jumping up and down in excitement.
“She’s alive! My little girl lives!”

Hanna took Symeon’s hand, smiling, while Drorli
grinned, replying, “Well, she
almost
lives. Right now you
are watching the mechanics of her body coming to life, actually
much in the same way your first ancestor did. It will still take
some time, a day or two, for the Web particles of the mind to fully
attach themselves to the flesh and wake.”

He rested his hand on the crystal cover, looking
down upon the girl, adding, “Our child will not be officially alive
until this ongoing process reaches completion. This interlude
between life and… and however you wish to describe it is called the
‘vision hour’. The very process of the mind’s reintegration will
cause profound dreams and visions, some being remembered into
revived consciousness. It is also a time when Mother might play in
the person’s mind, filling the head with all kinds of wonderful
visions and prophecies.”

Drorli looked up at Symeon. “I believe that Mother
will do a lot of that with the child. Already she has played with
her while our girl slept in the Field of the Minds. I doubt Mother
will stop now - not now when she is so close to having her
little darling
near to completion.”

Hanna laughed. “You speak as though our girl is but
a toy of Lowenah’s.”

It was Drorli’s turn to laugh. “Why should you think
I meant anything different? Mother never works. She
plays
at
everything she does. Everything… all of her creations are her
playthings. Oh yes, the Rebellion has hurt her, almost destroyed
her heart, but it is still a game to her. Everything has always
been a game.”

“How can that be so?” Hanna asked, confused. “How
can she view all this terrible wickedness and destruction as a
game? It makes no sense to me.”

“That’s because…” Drorli gently poked Hanna on the
arm. “That’s because you view playing through the mind of a child.
What you do not see is that Mother never expected that inner child
in us to ever go away. She made us to always be busy at play. Work
and toil are inventions of an evil age. Mother refuses to gather
her heart up into that mindset, so she continues to play at
everything she does.”

The girl suddenly let out a howling cry, quickly
followed by some rambling mumbles as her eyes fluttered open and
then closed. Symeon cried out in despair and then joy as tears
streamed down his face. “
She spoke! My little child spoke! She
spoke to me!
”

Drorli attempted to explain to him that it was only
the mechanics of the body responding to electrochemical charges
surging through an awakening brain. Symeon would have none of it.
The girl had spoken to him. He knew it and would believe nothing
else. Drorli silently smiled, letting Symeon have it his way.

For the better part of two hours, the four remained
beside the crystal sarcophagus. Symeon and Hanna learned the
attendant’s name was EurwhaNeehaa, that the woman was a child born
in the latter part of the First Age, and that she and Drorli had a
very close relationship that went back before the age of their own
star system. Eurwha was a pleasant, patient-natured person much
like Drorli, but she was more serious in disposition.

Finally it was time to depart, Eurwha urging Symeon
on with encouragement. Gently taking his arm, she slowly led him
toward the exit chamber. “Possibly on the morrow we will be
delivering your girl to her new home. We are depending on you and
dear Hanna to have everything ready for the child’s awakening.
Remember, the less the shock to her senses, the faster she will
gather her wits to this place, which means the sooner she will be
ready for your company.”

Symeon longingly looked back over his shoulder,
nodding dreamily. “Yes, I have much to do, and there is so much I
wish to tell her, so many things from that day long ago.”

Eurwha took Symeon’s arm, gently moving him along.
“It will come. It will come. Much sooner than you realize, it will
come.”

Later, when alone with the two, Drorli spoke about
Eurwha. “War is so destructive, ruins so many wonderful things.
Eurwha was such a carefree, happy person when the world was
innocent.” He sadly frowned. “The woman was badly broken when a
flaming wall collapsed on her during a bombing raid at our outpost
on Stargaton. When we dug her out of the rubble, I could not
believe her still alive. Along with so many bleeding fractures and
severe burns, Eurwha’s skull was nearly crushed. She eventually
healed, but something inside her head changed. It was many years
before I saw a smile cross her lips again, and not a laugh have I
heard from her since that day over a thousand years ago.”

He grinned, winsome. “Eurwha’s a good, dear, lovely
companion. I personally requested her company on my team when the
offer was made me to set up the rejuvenation machines for the
delivery of your kind to this place. She has assisted me with the
arrival of every one of your kind, her pleasant face often the
first of my kind that your people see after waking into this world.
If your kind carries a single vision of
angels
in their
heads, I assume it should be that of Eurwha’s soft, smiling face as
she welcomes them into our world.”

*

The late afternoon sun found Hanna and Symeon making
their way along the narrow street that led toward the rail-stage
that would take them to a tiny village some miles east of Palace
City. It was the location where all those who arrived from the
Lower Realms first awoke. Although most of the work was now
finished, Hanna wanted to make sure every detail was just perfect
for their girl’s returning. They also needed to prepare for the
roles they were to play assisting Ishtar.

As they passed out through the gate leading to the
street, Symeon spied an acquaintance sitting on a bench near a tiny
fountain beside the ancient wall that ran from the gate off into
the distance, enclosing a beautiful garden park. He waved his
hellos, being in too much of a hurry to stop and chat. As he neared
the exit, he shouted over to his acquaintance, “She’s here! My
girl’s come back to me!”

The man sitting on the bench waved and nodded,
smiling grimly. For Symeon this was a day of joy. For that fellow,
it was a day of dread. The man looked down at the flowers in his
hands, flowers intended for some of those who rested in the Silent
Tombs. ‘Sirion would like it that way, to know that her companions
had not been forgotten since her departure.’ The man hoped his
business this day would conclude soon enough for him to make that
promised delivery.

Why now? Why him? Could not the gods have picked a
better candidate for this mission? He was no hero, did not deserve
this place for any reason, especially to assist this wonderful
goddess about to be reborn. So worthless the man felt, so miserably
worthless…

Drorli arrived when the man was at his gloomiest and
quietly sat down on the bench beside him. “Well…” Drorli grinned,
“She’s here… will be up and about in a day or two.”

The man continued to stare down at his flowers,
tears escaping his eyes and running down his cheeks. Finally he
looked over and into Drorli’s face. “Why me? I am a most abhorrent
person, the worst of all mankind! I murdered the girl, wished to
satisfy my passion on her and then handed her up to murder. A vile
man am I, not deserving a thing. I don’t even deserve life, and
look, here I am in this world, a place so pure and holy. I deserve
not even a place to rest my foot. Why me?”

Drorli patted the man’s shoulder. “Why you? Well, I
only deliver your kind here. Someone with a lot more authority than
I have, decided your arrival. You’re here now, so you better make
the best of it. I’m going to...”

He leaned forward, looking the man in the face. “I
think I will have need of your services… maybe. I’ve studied this
girl’s history. She was a bit feisty back then, and I’m afraid she
might become a little bit more so before she settles down
here.”

The fellow slumped forward. “A fate worse than death
I feel is upon me! She will hate me forever… despise me! I deserve
it…deserve it and a whole lot more.” He looked over at Drorli. “And
there’s no place for me to run away to. Not here. Not in this
world.”

Drorli looked at the flowers the man was holding,
knowing their purpose. “Come.” He stood. “Let me go with you this
evening. I also wish to give honor to my little sister. I, too,
love Sirion and hurt over her capture. Come, and we can talk along
the way. A livery coach is soon to arrive this way to take me to
other places. Instead we shall both commandeer it to deliver us to
the Silent Tombs.”

Slowly the man nodded. “All right, I will go with
you, but don’t expect me to be a cheerful companion. Too much is on
my mind and heart this night for me to be offering up
pleasantries.”

Drorli grinned. “The better for it, it is then. You
tell me of your gloom and I shall listen to your masterful tale.
Let’s be on our way.”

The coach soon arrived and was shortly departed for
the Silent Tombs, leaving the garden park alone to itself. A gentle
evening breeze arrived at dusk, carrying upon it a lilting melody
filled with joy and anticipation, announcing that a world was
ending and another was about to begin.