The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (16 page)

A vision from long ago filled Trisha’s mind,
bringing a wisp of a smile to a forlorn face. There, before the
open hearth in the little mud hut she once called ‘home’, the woman
sat holding her newborn daughter, playing with the little baby’s
fingers and toes. The kettle merrily bubbled away, steaming soup
filling the room with delightful aromas. Those were such wonderful
times, the early days of her innocence. Oh, how pleasantly painful
the ache to think of those days, to be returned to those days.

Looking back toward the camp, Trisha watched
Mihai’s shrinking figure in the distance. How much like her own
daughter might Mihai really be? Had the child lived, what would she
have become. If…? Wasn’t this the very reason for her being here,
to make sure her daughter would live again, awake again, but into a
much better world than the one she left behind?

Mihai was her child now, her ward, her
responsibility. Self-pity could not be permitted today. Trisha was
delivered here to for a reason. Lowenah did not play the fool with
her. Today was a new day. Asotos was going to be put on notice that
he no longer had the upper hand. There was a new power rising in
his world that he was going to have to contend with - a power that
would eventually destroy all the evil in this universe and drive
him from it.

Blinking tears away as she lifted her head
up, Trisha smiled, determined. Today the universe was being put on
notice. Now everyone would see that the children from forgotten
lands had gathered up Hell and had delivered it to Heaven. They
were the true Dragons, Warlock Magicians, the Holy Knights and
rightful bearers of those titles. They would no longer skulk about
in hidden places, waiting for permission to speak or be spoken to.
This was the beginning day of their glory. No more lurking in the
shadows of the moon. Today, in naked power, they would shine for
the all the realms to see…and fear.

Trisha smiled wickedly as she tramped back
toward the camp. “Yes! Come all ye Saints of D’arth and listen and
be afraid! Hear the cry of those who were dead and are yet living.
Shudder, for the ending hour is upon you! Fear the day of small
beginnings! Fear us!”

* * *

A giant black shape loomed above, snarling
its defiance as it lunged forward on the attack, only to vanish
into the mist. Oh, how peaceful and quiet, to rest without dread or
care. So this is death? How sweet it is, like a friend and
companion, a mother giving suck. No fear, no pain, no feeling at
all. ‘I am a free woman at last, as Death is my witness and the
Silent Tomb my lover… a free woman at last.’

‘Fa-
boom
…
!
Fa-
boom
…
!
Fa-
boom
…
!’
Rhythmic
explosions rolled across the fathomless expanse of nothingness.
‘Fa-
boom
…
!
Fa-
boom
…
!
’ Thunders
suddenly overpowered by an oppressive roar of violent winds tore
through the senses only to fade into silence, and then, again,
gather up the storm in a returning as the tempest rushed by once
more like tortured waters returning to an angry sea. Over and over,
fierce winds raged, all the while the frantic booming echoing
across the oppressive sky of silence.

Eventually the tempest eased until it
sounded like little more than an agitated breeze gently pushing its
way through orderly rows of long-needled evergreens, the boisterous
booming quieting until it beat a lazy ‘thump, thump, thump’.

While the music of this lullaby gently
rocked the universe, a fiery red glow awoke within the surrounding
blackness and rose as if from a heavy mist, slowly turning the
universe of darkness into a flaming inferno, filling the entire
expanse with its writhing clouds of tortured fires rolling like an
angry storm across endless skies. The blinding brilliance of the
crimson fires grew in glory until it consumed the mind in a
maddening ache. And there was found no escape from it, for the
powers of the flames only intensified…no escape from it until… in
time, the blazing cloud mass tired, having spent its mightiness,
and it, too, was gathered up to the endless expanse, spreading its
flames out across the entire universe and setting it ablaze in a
smoldering haze. Yet, even then, the fires, too, were not happy to
remain, slowly being consumed in a growing radiance that eventually
flooded the world in the purity of its whitened brilliance. Oh, but
alas, also, for the powers of these wondrous fires, the darkness of
black refused to surrender its throne, pressing ever inward until
the mightiness of the blazing white light shrank in its glory, it
gathering up its defeated army into a smaller and smaller defensive
circle until it, too, silently retreated back to the
nothingness.

The sounds of the consuming breezes and the
gentle thumping also soon fell under the spell of the blackness
until they quietly sang gentle, sleepy songs like that of quiet
waters lapping upon sandy beaches. Now the blackness came near,
gathering up all the senses in its loving swaddling bands, cooing
softly a melody of restful refrains.

“Sleep now my little one.

The day is sweet and young.

Tomorrow is soon enough to wake your dream.

So long you’ve slept, so long it’s been.

So rest, my little one, and care for naught.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, it’s soon enough...”

* * *

A piercing cry shattered the peaceful
darkness, quickly followed by the pounding of massive valves from a
giant pump accompanied by roaring winds. Again and again, plaintive
wails tore against the silent expanse as surging floods pressed
upon awakening, confused senses. Gradually, like a hungry newborn
babe feasting upon nursing teats, those same senses relaxed with
the conscious realization of their own existence.

“
I am she!”
A remembering mind
shouted out to a silent world, it not yet aware the body in which
it resided still slept in peaceful silence.
“I am she!”
The
mind cried again, remembering a name that it had so long held
dear.

Quickly following this revelation, a torrent
of jagged memories rent that jubilation with an overwhelming
bewilderment of truncated visions, each demanding to be the sole
center of attention for all those racing thought processes. From
this maelstrom of perplexity evolved a kaleidoscopic cacophony of
dreams that stupefied an uncertain mind, eventually forcing it to
create self-induced worlds of dreamy hallucinations.

It was during one of these dreamy episodes
that this sleepy mind suddenly reached out to the body in which it
dwelt. The power of a hand opening and closing its fingers sent
excited chills racing up and down countless nerves of the rapidly
awakening body. Then came joyful cries from a mouth obeying the
orders of an exulting brain. Suddenly, by the sheer willpower of a
cognitive mind, two laughing eyes opened upon a spinning blue world
of dizzying pageantry.

Although awakened to its outer self, the
inner being was still a slave to the current masters of its secret
universe whose fingers were not yet done playing these rhapsodic
chords of Fantasy’s music, all the while painting upon a
paramnesian tapestry with Illusion’s maniacal brush. Long
remembered would some of those dreams be, as disjointed adventures
through wondrous unrealities of timeless space.

A sudden chill wind rushed in upon a
surprised face, its eyes bulging in shocked reaction. The mind’s
body threw itself backward in panicked response to only discover
that it was falling, ever falling. Reaching out in desperation to
find a handhold, the eyes watched in amazement to see fingers
stretching out toward fathomless blue space in their fruitless
search for safety.

Fear was soon replaced by an exhilarating
feeling of floating upon a brilliant, colored sea of rainbow hues
that raced about wildly in their ever-search to find the end of the
universe. Yes, flying weightless upon an ocean of air! Oh, what a
wonderful experience! Oh, the unbridled freedom where the very
forces of nature were standing in abeyance to mind and flesh,
permitting the returning soul and heart a joyous opportunity to
experience life as an immortal, where no command or law holds sway
over the will of body or mind.

Taking charge of its own destiny, the mind
willed the body to impose its glory upon the ever-dancing distant
aurora that filled the sky with its haunting beauty. In only
seconds, the ears could hear the numbing roar of wind as the body
sped toward the prismatic array of colors. Soon eyes were watering
from a cutting breeze that resisted this ever-advancing intruder
into the nether worlds of the Immortals. But on the mind pushed,
driving the body to its limit, chasing those mesmerizing lights
across a darkening sky.

Suddenly, without warning, a stout stormwind
slammed the speeding body from the side, sending it tumbling
helplessly end over end. From within the stormwind, an angry voice
shouted, “Be off with you! You are no god! Only a human is what you
are. Be off to your own world and leave ours in peace!”

With a shrieking cry, the mind felt itself
spinning wildly downward, helplessly falling through an endless
expanse. “Mother! Oh, mother!” Came a plaintive cry, but not from a
mind this time. No, now a person, a woman-child, was crying to her
mother for help. The mind no longer ruled the body, for now mind,
body, and heart were thinking, seeing, and feeling as one - one
soul, a living, breathing and very frightened soul.

“Leave us now! Be off! Be off!” The
stormwind continued shouting as it followed the child down, it
making sure she would not intrude upon its world again. It chased
after the girl until she disappeared into heavy clouds filled with
rolling thunders and blinding lightning. The riotous convulsions of
maddening eruptions cried up to the stormwind in contempt. “Leave
the child and return to your ever world! She you cannot do with as
you please. Leave or we shall consume you in all our radiant
power!”

In silent frustration, the stormwind slowly
retreated to whence it came, but not before blowing away the tops
of some of the greatest thunderheads. In anger, the clouds shot
fiery lightning bolts after the storm, but to no avail, for it was
fled far away before the thunderheads could regain their might.

As the thunders’ power returned, their
agitated clouds took to twisting and writhing violently in
frustration at seeing the storm wind escape, soon turning into a
great twirling tempest that sucked the child away into its wildly
spinning vortex. For hours - or was it days, or even possibly years
- the girl was flung helplessly up and down, to and fro, through
the endless funnel cloud. On and on it went in its madness, tearing
across the tortured lands far below. At length it tired, releasing
its hold and carelessly dropping its captive toward distant grassy
fields.

The girl screamed once again, crying for her
mother, and then recalled little more, other than the warm
downy-like fields filled with beautiful flowers and their wonderful
scents. Oh, how comforting and soft, like angel down in a fat
feather tic!

The earlier blackness quickly caught up with
the child and soon overcame her waking senses. The world of dark
shadow again sang its lullabies, ushering in another hour of
peaceful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

“They told us she would experience strange
dreams and visions, and… and… and the like. We must be patient, you
know, wait on the moment, like Drorli said. We just must be
patient.”

Symeon had been carrying on in this fashion
ever since Ishtar began reacting to the super-oxygenated fluids
that were washing clean the girl’s lungs. Drorli warned them that a
heightened awareness at the subconscious level might well flood the
sleeping mind with hallucinogenic visions that could affect
physical motor controls, thus the flailing of arms and legs
accompanied by whoops and wails, sometimes even recognizable
speech.

The girl suddenly jumped, her eyes bulging
in fright. Symeon cried out to Eurawha, who was some distance away
checking gages, “My girl?! My girl?! You said this was all normal?
She’s really all right? Do you think she’s really all right?”

Hanna laughed, answering Symeon before
Eurawha could reply. “Of course she’s all right, you silly goose!
Everything’s fine, going according to plan.” She squeezed Symeon’s
arm reassuringly, reminding him. “Drorli explained it all so well
just this morning, telling us exactly what to expect, he even using
those moving vision machines to describe just how our girl was
making her returning.”

Hanna kissed Symeon’s troubled face. “Look,
Dear, whether rumors of our immortality are true or not - something
I doubt - it has been said that not one of the children delivered
from the Realms Below has been damaged to the point of death since
arrival here. I believe that. Your little child will not suffer
such a horrid death… any death… again. That you can trust...”

“Come now!” She playfully tussled Symeon’s
beard. “Put a smile on that ol’ puss of yours. We’re supposed to be
celebrating Ishtar’s happy return, not fretting over nonsensical
imaginings.”

Eurawha was now standing in front Ishtar’s
crystal sarcophagus, staring down upon the girl while listening to
Hanna and Symeon’s conversation. She matter-of-factly commented,
“Not to worry. If she’s damaged, we’ll just throw her in the
incinerator and start over. The main blueprint of her is already in
the machines. Shouldn’t take long to make a new one...”

Symeon let out a howl of dismay while
Drorli, who was standing nearby, almost split his sides with
laughter. Eurawha quietly looked toward Hanna, a faint smile
forming on her lips and then returned to her work at nearby
gauges.