The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (12 page)

“This tale, I know, you have heard before, but not
from my tongue. So listen, please. Bear with this teller of old
tunes and stories, for in the past is where my glory resides.”

Darla sat there, dumbly staring into her mother’s
face. She did not like it when the
destructive
mood came
along. This night it was particularly obtuse, filled with
self-denunciations and loathing remorse. Why now? Mother might
become morose in the quiet hours when the wine flowed heavy on
lonely nights, but not at times like this, and never with Darla,
alone, by herself. Something was up, but Darla could not figure out
the cause or the reason.

“Well…” Lowenah went on. “Soon I realized that
Chrusion’s request for the moot was not an attempt to resolve any
conflict. No, indeed, conflict was what he was searching for, some
way to humiliate my daughters and me, to destroy our self-worth, to
declare his contempt for all womankind.”

Chrusion continued to flaunt his
girly-men
in
front of us, finding reason to have them exhibit their femininity.
When I made comment in disgust, he flew into a ranting rage,
revealing his true pretense for the meeting. We all were shocked
silent as he went on in a tirade that lasted oh, so long, decrying
the women of this world with the vilest of vulgar speech and
gestures, fit for little more than
way holes
for the men of
his world who had not yet lifted themselves above such abhorrent
abominations of nature.”

“Finally, in red-faced rage, he screamed,
‘You
have played the saint over us for too long, knowing full well the
deficiencies of women are beyond reconciliation! Only the men weak
of mind can find such contemptible beasts pleasurable. Empty nets
of barren hooks they are! Their breasts are giving childless suck
and their thighs of little more worth than to provide a gloved hand
to a wanting cock! What they are lacking between their legs is only
compounded when searching their empty minds, windowless dustbins of
fickle emotions!’
”

He waved a hand toward one of his girly-men, crying
out, ‘
You know full well your secret treachery, that women are
putrid manifestations of living abortions, drunken convulsions
produced after your sleeping with the wild swamp pigs!
’”

“Bending the man low in front of him, Chrusion took
his excited, swollen ardor and thrust it deep within the man. ‘See!
This
is love the likes of which you and your
whoring
bunch can never give!”

“I remember little of the following moments, it
passing like a gray mist before my eyes. I sank to the floor in
sobs, unable to make reply, my heart still aching with love for
this man. In tears, I sat, begging him to leave off his dastardly
acts.”

“Gabrielle was not so weak-minded and feeble of
heart. A fiery rage exploded within her breast and, in her
passionate rage, she grabbed a buttress pike from the hands of
PalaHar. On a run, the woman charged Chrusion, smashing him hard
across the face with the shank end of the shaft, driving him
backward so that he fell into his gathered lieutenants. In less
than a heartbeat, she had turned and, with a screaming cry, charged
the pike up through the man, bursting his heart with the spear’s
point.”

“As the man lay writhing upon the stone floor,
Gabrielle turned again, facing a bloodied Chrusion. Raising her
arms up and outward, she cried out in the voice of the Immortals,
speaking words unuttered in these worlds since my first child
suckled at my breasts. The air became thick and heavy, a dread
falling upon all hearing the curses being pronounced. Suddenly, a
blinding light flashed across the room, followed by deafening
thunders. Gabrielle now stood the gallant witch, child of darkness,
her spirit ablaze with the powers of the Whispering Voices.”

“At that moment, I looked up to see my darling
daughter become a pillar of blazing fire, she calling down evil on
all men living and dead that should act in villainy against the
Maker of Worlds. She now pointed a hand at Chrusion, causing his
manliness to erupt in an excruciatingly hard erection. As he moaned
in stunned agony, Gabrielle swore an oath against him.
‘I do
swear in the name of my God, our mother, and all the Spirits beyond
that, until you have consummated the Covenant of the Virgin with
seven thousands of these most detestable of creatures, the burning
fire will remain alive in your loins, and your aching manliness
shall not rest in ease!’
”

“At that, Gabrielle and her companions gathered up
their weapons and drove out the contemptible host, slaying many of
the girly-men as they went fleeing into the night. Later, Gabrielle
departed for the Lower Realms, bringing to fiery ruin the cities of
Sodom and Gomorrah and all the cities in the surrounding districts
as a warning to all that there would be no tolerance for wicked
acts done against her mother.”

Lowenah bowed her head. “I am ashamed that it was my
little girl who displayed such love and care for the person who had
shown so little empathy for her…”

With tear-filled eyes, Lowenah looked into Darla’s
emerald green pools of innocence, sighing sadly. “And now I am
about to destroy another of my daughters. What else is there for
it?”

Darla glanced toward the mirror and then at Lowenah,
smiling. “For you, it will be a pleasure to be destroyed. Death for
such a cause is most to be desired.” She then asked, “Still though,
why is it you send me to my destruction wearing the garb of a
prostitute, or maybe a festival dancer?”

Standing up straight, Lowenah turned and, with hands
clasped behind her back, slowly began to pace. “True, to bring
Gabrielle’s curse to a finish, Chrusion found the seven thousand
willing women to perform the consummation of the Virgin Covenant
with him, but afterward he refused the intimate company of any of
his sisters. Anna did not join in the Rebellion, but remained close
to Michael in her hour of need, attending to her desires down to
this day. There existed no women that Chrusion found enjoyment in
until…”Lowenah’s hand went up into the air, she shaking her finger,
“…until a darling little Canaanite girl found herself dancing in
the temple of Ashtoreth. When his gaze fell upon the woman, his
heart beamed with an excitement not felt by it in many hundreds of
years. He was so smitten by her that he sought somehow to bring her
into his world, through vision, trance, or reality. It mattered
little other than to have her. Before he was able to accomplish his
purpose, the girl died in a raid upon her city, Chrusion never
forgetting the people who took the girl from him.”

She stopped and pointed at Darla. “The value, my
lovely One, is that the Fates may play the fiddle at this exchange
in such a way that rescue may be provided for a child that is so
dear to me and yet is in such great peril… peril that she is
unaware of.”

Darla’s face filled with curiosity, she asking, “So
how will my garb rescue Sirion and the others from Asot… oh…
Adelphos’ clutches?”

(Author’s note:
Although Darla respected
Lowenah’s desire to not hear the name ‘Asotos’ in her company, she
refused to speak the name ‘Chrusion’ concerning the man, using
‘Adelphos’, meaning ‘brother’, instead.
)

“Sirion?” Lowenah mused, “Sirion? Yes, she might
benefit, as well as the others. I do not speak of her or them when
I mention the coming danger.”

She again sat down beside Darla, taking her hands
while searching questioning eyes. “The one I am referring to is so
much closer to me at this moment. Why, the innocent waif has no
idea of the danger she is in. Even now my little girl stands the
precipice of damnation, yet sees no danger. At this coming Prisoner
Exchange, I must cast that little child so dear to me into the
murky waters of tempestuous uncertainty. There is so little hope to
be found there, but none if her journey does not pass through
them.”

Darla asked again, “Who, then, is the child so
foolish that she does not see the danger, yet chooses to plunge
headlong into those murky waters?”

Lowenah sat there for the longest time, looking
toward the doorway. Finally, in a whisper, she answered,
“
You
...”

A chill ran up Darla’s spine as her face went ashen.
Although she could not yet comprehend the evil road, she began to
grasp the gravity of coming events. Mother was warning the girl
about certain dangers so profound, she did not have the words to
speak that could give understanding to the girl’s heart. Whatever
it was that Darla must soon face remained clouded in mystery until
it lashed out at her soul to destroy it, for even if Mother could
find the words, Darla realized that she would not understand their
meaning.

Gradually, the impact of Lowenah’s lengthy retelling
of the history of Darla’s world began to sink in. The girl’s
growing unease turned into an unsettling dread soon followed by an
overpowering fear the likes of which she never before experienced.
Mother would not tease with her child’s emotions, not now, not
today. The danger to her then must be real, unimaginable,
damning.

Cold, clammy sweat began to ooze from Darla’s pores,
carrying with it a sickly odor of hopelessness. What was she to do?
A brave and fearless warrior she was, standing her ground against
the greatest of foes. Could it be her demon’s growing power? No.
Since Euroaquilo bested it three nights ago, it quailed at even her
lone presence in that tortured land. A cold shudder racked the
woman’s body. Then what was the unknown dread that haunted her very
existence?

Her pale lips quivering in fright, Darla asked, “So
I will die tomorrow?”

Lowenah closed her eyes, nodding, “Tomorrow you will
die… or live.”

Darla looked into Lowenah’s eyes just as she opened
them. “Mother...” and began to quietly sob, tears running down her
cheeks. “My life has been a prison of evil dread. I am tortured by
both the good and wicked. I have been torn by the enemy’s spears
and cut by my brothers’ words, but still it has been in life that I
have done these things. No matter how horrid and miserable it has
been, it has still been life. If I die tomorrow, I know there will
be no returning for me. To be gone forever is a greater dread than
my heart can fathom. You must help me… please.”

Lowenah tenderly stroked Darla’s arm, sadly shaking
her head. “You are the master of your fate. You must choose,
decide. Weapons there are at your disposal. All but one will fail
you on the morrow. Still, it must be of your choosing which one you
will carry into battle with you.”

Peering deeply in Darla’s eyes, searching her heart
and soul, Lowenah smiled forlorn. “There is hope for you. You are a
powerful warrior in many ways. Remember, the sword is of little
value when your opponent is far away, and the lance may well fail
you in a narrow passage. Choose wisely the weapon you will
carry.”

“But Mother!” Darla cried in anguish. “How does the
blind man see the vulture until its claws have ripped away his
face, or how does the deaf mute hear the serpent and cry out for
help? I do not hear my enemy, nor do I see the field of battle. How
do I choose? Please! I am your servant girl. Please help your slave
girl in her hour of tribulation!”

Lowenah shook her head. “A slave cannot survive
forever as a slave no matter how benevolent the master. Only a free
person will find success upon the field that you must tread. A free
woman you are, and you must stand as a free woman tomorrow. You
must choose your own path, a slave to no person, including me.”

“This one warning I can give you, and heed it well:
There is ever a warring going on within, two souls in one body, one
heart. The one soul is always searching for ways to enslave the
other to gratify its own cravings. In times of peace, we will
surrender the one to the other and we shall find merry success but,
in times of war, we must not allow its influence for it will seek
the pleasant, easy road, the deadliest road. It is truly a
treacherous ally.”

She looked away and then back, staring into Darla’s
tear-filled, questioning eyes. “Sometimes the lesser of the two
evils is the most dangerous and deadly. Tomorrow you must stand as
a free woman, choosing life or death as a free woman. No slave will
survive the morrow. The weapon you carry must be one of your
choosing, for only you will know how to wield it.”

After kissing Darla on a tearstained cheek, Lowenah
leaned back, smiling. “My little Rachel, it is I who ride in faith
on the morrow, faith in my little girl. I believe she carries
within her soul the most formidable of weapons to gain success. I
trust you more than any of my other children regarding this one
thing. I believe that tomorrow I will witness your power and might
- your power and might expressed to the limit. I know you will be
successful.”

Patting her arm, she added, “Besides, you do not
face the enemy horde alone. I have given you Phulakee,” She
grinned. “the little sword you carry at your side. It may come in
handy. Don’t forget it. Remember, Mother does play her games, but
she is not frivolous in her preparations. Besides the garb of a
sensuous troubadour, I have included the tools of a warrior. Use
them both well and succeed.”

There were some whimpers accompanied by quiet
pleadings for further guidance. Lowenah again shook her head,
denying the request. “The hour upon which the future of the entire
universe will pivot draws near. You are the tiny stone chosen for
the coming hour. For good or ill, I will toss that pebble into the
sea. Tomorrow, regardless of the outcome, I must do this thing.
Already the clock has struck the final minutes. I will not, cannot
stop it.”

She turned her head away, not wanting Darla to see
her tears. “I have put this hour of test off for far too long
already.”