The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (5 page)

Lowenah paused, looking deeply into Ardon’s eyes,
his heart. She was dismayed. Ardon would obey her. He was such a
loyal son, but he still did not understand at all why Darla must be
included on this mission, or even why he had been so chastised
regarding his actions toward her. Lowenah could see all these
things.

This had been a most wearisome conversation. Lowenah
was tired. She finally concluded, “Son, the day may well come that
the one you hate so will rescue your heart, for I do not believe
the power resides within you to gain its deliverance.”

She smiled, sad. “You have never desired the company
of others, you accepting your loneliness as normal, the way all my
children were made.”

Looking toward the door, she exclaimed, “Well! It’s
not good to be lonely, even when a person cannot feel he is lonely,
especially when we journey far into the unknown. I want you to
gather Tashi up in your arms and spend the remainder of this
journey together, you know, doing things
she
wants to do,
for a change.”

Ardon smiled, it quickly fleeing his face. “I don’t
know. Something’s got Tashi out of sorts this trip. She has acted
nervously busy all the time, returning here to only gather a few
things and then running off again. I feel the room…”

Lowenah hushed him. “Do as you’re told. Tashi and I
had a little chat earlier and she waits, even now, in the officers’
mess for you. I promised her you’d give her a good time and that
you would do whatever she wanted. Don’t disappoint me now. Tashi
has waited a long time to share with you little treasures that are
on her mind. Now be a good boy and take the girl into your arms and
do for her as she wishes.”

Ardon grinned, hugging Lowenah tight. “I promise,
Mother, I promise to do just as you have ordered.”

* * *

Screams hit Captain Asarel in the back of his head
like a sledgehammer, making him bolt upright, spilling some of his
hot brew. “Damn!” he fumed, setting down the cup, reaching for a
towel to clean up the spilled mess. As he wiped off his uniform,
the captain wondered how his other officers were managing. Every
evening since beginning this voyage had been filled with torturous
cries and whimpers of a distraught woman being pummeled by
incessant visions of unspeakable terrors, each night getting worse,
with tonight’s the greatest so far.

No one in the officers’ quarters could sleep, all
trying to privately manage as best they could. The captain had
taken to squirreling himself away in the quiet of the officers’
mess to find relief. It had worked reasonably well until now.
Another bloodcurdling screech reverberated off the bulkheads,
sending a chill up Asarel’s spine that almost made him cry out in
fear.

“How does he do it?” Asarel asked himself aloud,
wondering at Euroaquilo.

Every night the man entered into a world of darkness
and evil that the captain could only imagine, battling demonic
forces so vile that Euroaquilo dared not speak about the sordid
events when asked concerning them.

It was taking its toll, too. Euroaquilo looked
haggard and tired…well, everyone looked tired, but Euroaquilo more
so. He had also gone to wearing long-sleeved shirts to hide bloody
scratches and bite marks on his arms and back. And what of the
woman, Leftenant Darla? Asarel dared not tender a guess. She and
Euroaquilo would quietly arrive at morning mess, silently breakfast
and quickly go about their duties, the woman burying herself in her
work.

The good Leftenant’s face was ghostly pale, with
dark rings surrounding sunken, colorless eyes. She spoke little if
at all and, when she did, it was with a great deal of pain. Yet the
woman always remained so polite and courteous, smiling her hellos
to the others when meeting at mess or in the hallways. No
complaint, not a word. What kind of a person was this Darla
anyway?

Another wailing scream caught Asarel by surprise,
jumping up and knocking over his cup, spilling remaining brew
across the table. He cussed again, glancing out the door of the
mess and down the companionway. “Enough! Enough!” Abandoning the
spilt drink and broken cup to the cleaning crew, he made his way
from the mess and down the passageway. The engines were running
hot, meaning they must be quite noisy. Maybe if he secluded himself
in the boson’s wardroom behind the engine room he could find a
little peace and quiet. With desperate anticipation, Captain Asarel
hurried away to make his escape.

* * *

Not everyone aboard the DusmeAstron was able or
willing to make escape.

“
Die, you bastard!”
Euroaquilo’s
giant hands squeezed around the neck of the squirming black demon
until he heard a loud crunch, the demon’s head falling away from
its shoulders. Throwing the little monster away, he hurried
forward, chasing down several more as they sought to flee with
Darla’s torn and bloody body.

Catching up with them, Euroaquilo roared,
“
You shall not have the child! Go back to Hell or I shall give
it to you here!
” He dove forward, his fist smashing into the
face of one demon while his other hand clutched hold of a second,
crushing it in his mighty grip.

The horned demons squealed in fright,
letting go of Darla and backing quickly out of Euroaquilo’s reach.
Standing over his companion, the man reached down to grasp Darla’s
outstretched hand.

“Help me, my Lord! Please help me!” Darla
begged. “I cannot do this alone! They are tearing my mind from me,
filling it with the most vile, sick visions!”

One of the hideous little demons stepped
forward, threatening, “
Fool! How can you destroy us all? Leave
this abomination or we shall also feast upon your flesh as we will
do to it!
” The deformed monster lunged forward, calling others
to join the attack.

Standing over Darla, Euroaquilo took the
first blow, catching the demon in his hands, twisting its head and
breaking its neck. Grabbing the next assailant in an iron grip, he
shoved the fanged mouth of the first into the face of the second
demon. The evil monster screeched in pain and went limp. Throwing
them down, he drew his blade and spread his arms wide, preparing
for the growing onslaught.

The battle for Darla’s temple lasted long
into the night, Euroaquilo piling up heaps upon heaps of bodies,
the demons gathering in greater strength with each passing hour.
Still the man refused to tire out, protecting his companion against
all odds. At times the demons would make a breakthrough, taking
hold of the bruised and bleeding woman in an attempt to drag her
away to their abyss and Euroaquilo would summon up his inner
strength, driving them back, recapturing the girl.

Eventually the torn and shattered wasted
landscape slowly took on the garish, red glow of morning’s coming
glory. In a last desperate charge, the demons gathered their
strength for one more attempt to steal the woman away. It was a
ferocious fight, the monsters tearing at Darla’s flesh as they
fought to gain a firm hold on her, all the while Euroaquilo’s blade
singing a deadly song, cleaving heads and arms at blinding
speed.

And then it was over, distant volcanoes’
violent eruptions signaling the surviving demons to seek their
holes and crevices, else face a fate worse than delivered by
Euroaquilo. Soon the plain was void of all life other than his dear
companion - torn and battered, but still very much alive - and he,
himself.

Bending down on one knee, Euroaquilo swept
Darla up in his arms, helping her to sit as she leaned upon his
breast. Looking into the gathering morning fire, he knew the worst
was yet to come. It had come first two nights before, and last
night’s was far more damning. He dreaded what might arrive out of
the burning darkness this morning.

As he waited, cradling his ward, Euroaquilo
pondered these terrible wars of the mind. Oh yes, he knew the
battle plain was a vision, the execution of electrical and chemical
reactions in the brain, but these battles were no less deadly than
any he had faced upon the open fields in the outside world. The
demons, these abominations of life were
real
, leeches living
off the energy of his darling girl, their intelligence nearly as
great as his. They sought not the demise of Darla, but possession
of her spirit, enslaving it to their will, condemning her to a
living death under their insidious control.

The tortured ground began to shake from
violent, distant eruptions, the sky filling with noxious, choking
smoke. As lightning ripped the ragged sky, Euroaquilo chanced a
glance toward the burning mountains, his heart sinking. A
thundering, black, heaving mass of advancing demons filled the
plain. There would be no winning this day unless, unless… He had
only one chance to save his girl and the timing of his play meant
everything.

Slowly Euroaquilo stood to face the
approaching horde, stretching to his full height of seventy-two
plus six inches, glistening sweat dripping from rippling muscles,
hands clenched. With feet spread, protecting the woman who lay
curled up on the blistered field, cowering in rabid fear, the man
prepared for this day’s one final contest.

Out of the blazing darkness charged an army
of hideous, half-man, half-beast demons riding upon the backs of
giant, wormlike, howling, fanged monsters, breathing acidic fire,
their howling able peel the skin off a weak or cowardly man.
Euroaquilo was no such man. He stood proud, defiant, showing no
hint of fear.

The driving horde stopped up short, question
and caution growing on the faces of this most unholy host. The
demon-king had summoned his entire army this night, seeing it had
been bested the preceding night by this very same fomenter of ruin.
Not alone would it risk another encounter with this vile intruder,
but with all its armies should the battle be charged. Now even the
demon-king’s army held back, waiting upon their leader, uncertain
about the moment.

Euroaquilo said nothing, his glaring,
piercing eyes roving, searching out those who dared stare into his.
Few did. There came a sudden shout, and the masses wiggled and
pushed their way clear to allow their god-king passage.

Out of the gloom of savage darkness strode a
giant beast-man. Tall it was - half again as Euroaquilo, cloaked so
that only its grotesque head could be seen with two long, curved
horns protruding from the sides of its head, angling out and
downward. Its fiery-red, flaming eyes could burn the flesh off
cowards. With talons for hands, the beast-man held a long, flaming
whip.

This demon-king stopped mere feet from
Euroaquilo, pointing at Darla, demanding in a deafening roar,
“Give over the creature or suffer her fate!”

A thousand crimson lightning bolts exploded
from the gathering tempest, their thunders shaking the sky, hurting
the ears, and yes, just as the night before, the fires of Hell
broke open, the energy upon which these monsters fed to gain their
strength. Their power was not yet gathered to them. Still,
Euroaquilo could do little more than wait. Their numbers were too
great for him, alone. Timing was everything.

In a blinding flash, Euroaquilo pulled from
a sheath upon his back a large double-bladed axe with a head of
forged chrysolite and a handle of burnished bronze. He spoke with
the venom of a man on a vengeful hunt, his voice shattering the
night.
“I am EuroaquiloIllyricum,
god
over this underworld and
master
of
your fate! Be off or I shall send you all into the pit of
nothingness, the place where many of your kindred have already gone
this night!”

The demon-king stared down at this puny
intruder, uncertain. Why so brave? Where was its power? What was in
its hand? The beast paused, lifting its nose as if to smell the
storm on the breeze. Then, just as it felt the static crackle of
nearing lightning, it began to lift its whip toward the storm,
laughing.

“
To me!”
Euroaquilo shouted, hefting
the axe high into the night’s sky.

The erupting firestorm intended for the
demon-king’s whip instead flew toward the raised axe, consuming the
raging blaze. Into the radiant head and through the handle, the
power of the flames raced into the man defiant. A collective gasp
of terror rent the air as the beast-men stared in horror at the
flaming monster confronting them.

“
I am EuroaquiloIllyricum,
god of the underworld! Be off with you into damnation!
Die!
”
He flung the axe into the face of the now
terrified demon-king. An explosion of fire and smoke filled the
sky, accompanied by a pain-filled scream as he watched the
demon-king’s head disintegrate into flaming ash as its body burned
to cinders. Shrieks of dismay and terror echoed across the plain,
the horde collectively crying out in dismay at seeing their hero
destroyed.

The tempest hurried forward to add its
convulsive voice to the tumultuous riot. In one great final display
of power, it shook the heavens as its blinding lightning lit up the
night. And then the world fell dark and silent.

Euroaquilo did not hear Darla’s
heartbreaking screams that coincided with the sky’s orgasmic
explosions, nor did he feel the wounds caused by the woman’s
fingernails as they sank deep into his flesh. What he did feel were
the convulsions and violent uncontrolled spasms that shook the
bunk, threatening to tear it from the wall.

Darla let out a sudden gasp, her eyes flying
open in a terrified stare, her body going rigid as her breathing
stopped as if she were dead. Euroaquilo lay there looking down into
the woman’s pallid face, his lips quivering in dread. Had he been
too late? Was the child given into his care truly dead, her soul
consumed by the ravages of the night’s battle, or worse, had her
soul and mind been given up to the beast-men, he being too late to
save her?