The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (6 page)

A long, deep sighing sound struck
Euroaquilo’s ears, his heart pounding in anxious anticipation.
Darla’s breath slowly escaped her lips while her muscles gradually
relaxed, her body growing limp as though passing into death. The
girl’s bruised hands released their hold on Euroaquilo’s arms,
falling flat upon the white coverlets, staining them with the
bloody ooze seeping from her pores. Indeed! Darla’s entire being
began a crimson sweating that soaked the sheets red while filling
the room with the stench of death.

Euroaquilo sucked in a breath, holding it.
The man’s ears ached for want of a sound while a hand rested itself
upon Darla’s chest in hopes of feeling a heartbeat. It was as if
all Eternity were waiting upon the following fleeting moments,
seeking to offer either reward or condemnation.

“Such a little thing she asked.” It chided
him. “The child gave you her soul to assist her in such a little
thing. Have you kilt her with your foolishness, or does she live
with a soul torn and broken? Some hero you’ve been, allowing the
child to be so ravaged and tortured. What good is the
mighty
Euroaquilo
when he cannot save this little maiden?”

All of the man’s recent visions flooded his
mind. Were they gone from hope now, just dreams to be cast into the
pit of despair, without want or care? Was there any future at all
for the universe should he have failed this night, and caused her
death, the possibility of Darla’s flesh being too weak in power to
withstand the onslaught of those countless demons renting her
mind?

Had it been seconds or hours since the
battle in the dark abyss, since he had first placed his hand upon
the girl’s heart? Euroaquilo did not know, and with each passing of
his own breath, he feared all the more the loss of tonight’s
contest. He was about to surrender to his worst fears when his hand
felt the faintest of beats from a struggling heart. Then there was
another, and then another, weak and erratic, but real. Hope began
to grow in Euroaquilo. The child might yet live.

There was a sudden rush of air being sucked into
empty lungs. Darla’s eyes flew open again, but this time in
recognition of the man looking down into her face. Though her
breathing was shallow and irregular, the woman forced a tempered
smile of appreciation and thanks. Then, just as quickly, she closed
her eyes and faded into a quiet sleep.

Euroaquilo slowly pulled himself from atop his most
cherished ward and snuggled up close beside her on the narrow cot.
While he laid his head on his arm, the man rested a hand on Darla’s
chest, cherishing the now constant quiet
thump, thump, thump
of her heart and the slight heave of her breast caused by the
rhythmic breathing of a deep sleep. Yes, Darla had been severely
tormented this night, her body driven to its limits, but she lived
in both soul and mind.

Pondering this and the previous nights’ battles
fought, Euroaquilo hoped that Darla would little remember the evil
of this past evening as she had the others. Maybe with a few
fleeting hours of sleep and a warm shower in the morning, she might
be little worse for wear.

Euroaquilo frowned. What if he had not bested the
demon this night? What if the demon came in greater might on the
morrow, gathering even a larger more powerful horde of hideous
devils from the black and twisted abyss? How much more power could
it gather the nearer to its creator that it came? And, Euroaquilo,
how much strength did he have remaining within himself to protect
the girl?

Of all of Mother’s children, other than say Mihai,
Euroaquilo understood the ugly evil residing within his
woman-child, his lover, his maiden divine. What the man had not
learned from the millennia-long contest he fought along with Darla
in their dream shares, he had received from Lowenah, and all his
knowledge only filled him with dread. Time was running out for the
child. Was it days, or weeks? He did not know, and if Mother did,
she would not say. Oh, yes, Mother had been so optimistic when
telling him the importance of remaining with Darla after the last
Council, but that was often the way Mother was.

Euroaquilo pondered Mihai’s demon, or possibly many
demons. The woman was strong, tough, and she bested them often by
her own self-will. Darla was different. If there was but one demon
- Euroaquilo believed there might be many, or one whose mind was
fragmented to the point of macro-schizophrenia, it projecting a
divided mind into many individual personalities to the point that
each obtained a separate identity – that demon maintained far
greater influence over Darla than that of Mihai’s. If it was not
for Darla’s self-made monster of the battlefield, and a mysterious
hidden power buried deep within her mind, the girl might well have
fallen hopelessly under the demon’s control long ago.

Euroaquilo believed Darla’s resistance was
weakening. This night there would have been only despair should she
have been cast into that abyss alone. The woman was crippled so
with fear she could not even chase off the little demon spirits.
Tonight, as with the previous, Euroaquilo was forced to stand the
battle line alone, something he never before experienced when
contending with Darla’s demons. He feared the coming eve should the
demon increase its power and bring more numbers to the contest.
Could Euroaquilo stem the evil tide if that became the case? The
man did not know.

Euroaquilo closed his eyes, listening to Darla’s
gentle, deep breathing while he took count of each beat of her
heart. ‘It rests in your hands. It rests upon your shoulders.’ The
warning of the earlier visions echoed in the man’s head. What a
fool he had been then, thinking it might only apply to the way
Darla felt concerning Ardon. As he lay there, it became clearer
that the vision was not singing its warning song regarding Darla,
but about the universe and Time itself. Whatever adventurous road
his feet now trod, Darla played only a part, she being the catalyst
that might set the universe ablaze, but still only a part, none the
less, and now Ardon, too. Yes, for some inexplicable reason, the
Fates had swept that odd fellow up into the coming maelstrom. For
good or ill, the three were bound upon a fated road.

This was all too overwhelming for Euroaquilo. He
called out to Mother through his mind for help, something he rarely
did anymore. ‘I am only a man, powerful in the flesh, maybe, but
only a child weak and of little knowledge in the mind. How do I do
this thing demanded of me? I see no success on this path, for the
Spirits ask too much from such a frail child. Look! I can barely
hold back the demon hordes that threaten my darling love. How can I
save the universe? It is too much for me to do alone. Too
much...’

Suddenly, a dark cloud filled the man’s mind,
blinding his eyes with forgetful dreams. Without warning,
Euroaquilo drifted into a deep, sound sleep that he did not revive
from until Darla lovingly nudged him in the late morning hours.

Lowenah smiled and spoke aloud as if hosting company
in her quiet, unlit room. “My boy grows in wisdom. He learns.
Little Rachel shall not be visited this coming night by her demon,
but hiding far down in hard to reach places shall it remain for
some time. It hurts like a puppy beaten and wishes for no more
contest against the new god who rules his world.”

She rolled onto her side, thinking about the coming
Prisoner Exchange and the future beyond that. A tear ran down her
cheek. “We have chosen well. He will play this to the limit, but at
what a cost? Oh my, oh my, at what a cost…”

A gentle breeze swaddled Lowenah in its loving
embrace. A whisper on that breeze called out to her reassuringly,
“Such a little price to pay for the rich reward received. You will
see. You will see…”

* * *

“Welcome to the cooler!” A man with a big toothy
grin waved his arm high as he gracefully backed away from the door.
“We have your little girl on ice as I speak.”

Symeon grumped his sour-faced hellos as he passed
through the copper-plated metal door, Hanna following close behind.
Stopping inside, while the man closed and sealed the door, Symeon
turned and addressed the fellow, a sour look still on his face.
“Drorli, must you continue plaguing me with such morbid dialog? If
you had any feelings at all, you would show the dead a little more
respect.”

Hanna smiled, slipping a hand around Drorli’s arm,
softly cooing, “The poor fellow’s been eating
sour pills
ever since you and Chess stopped by at breakfast the other morning.
He’s been in a fidget to be delivered here.”

Lowering a jealous eyebrow, Symeon coldly responded,
“I am not sour, just concerned for my little girl!” He reached out,
pulling Hanna away from Drorli’s side. “You, my fine gentleman,
remember your manners this day. We are not at one of your
festivals, and I have no intention of losing this woman up to your
arms again as happened the last time we were visited with your
enchanting
company.”

Drorli shrugged innocent, winking at Hanna. “Well,
as I recall that evening hour…” He tapped his head as if searching
to remember the moment. “As I recall that evening hour, you
appeared to be quite taken with my sweet companion, Chasileah. Or
was it the wine you so generously consumed that forced you to
gather her up to the darkness and dance to love’s music until
your girl
and I found you embraced in deep slumber under a
nearby mulberry tree?”

Symeon’s face reddened, embarrassed, feigning
excuse. “I may have had a little too much of the brandy-wine, but
it was for want of the company of my girl who you had secretly
whisked away. Chasileah was understandingly sympathetic to my
situation, seeing you had run off on her, too, and… and…”

“And what, my dear friend?” Drorli laughed. “And
what…?”

Symeon swallowed hard, chancing a glance at Hanna
who stood there smirking. “I… well…”

“Speak up, my friend, or has the tongue of truth
gone to hiding?” Drorli laughed again. “Or was your evening spent
with my companion a wasted one?”

Poor Symeon was in a spot. What could he say?
Chasileah was a most beautiful woman, with her smooth, flawless
brown skin and winter-white hair, laughing green eyes and a smile
that could warm the coldest dawn, and she was truly a gentle and
caring person. Nothing inappropriate could he say about such a
wonderful woman.

Finely Symeon sputtered, disgusted, “I’ve not the
mood to discuss such trivia on this most important day! I am here
on official business that has kept me from the upcoming Prisoner
Exchange. Now, then, let us be about that business.”

Hanna laughed, sliding an arm around Symeon’s back.
“The poor fellow has been in such a tizzy since he was told about
his child that he’s been impossible to live with! I’m surprised he
even remembers Chasileah what with all that’s been spinning about
in his mind. He won’t be himself again until this is all settled
out, and he’s seen his girl.” She then tenderly kissed Symeon on
the cheek.

Waving his hand high, Drorli invited Symeon and
Hanna to follow along, he describing some of the particulars as
they journeyed through the temple, in reality, a laboratory.

“Long ago, when my world was full of innocence and
excitement, many days before I suckled upon my mother’s breasts,
these chambers were part of one of the greatest temple complexes in
the universe. It has been rumored that strange, fiery, manlike
creatures worked these bellows and gages to bring life to every
sort of winged and creeping beast that the mind could imagine.”

As they walked, Drorli pointed up toward a shining,
metallic, sealed caldron some forty cubits high and three times in
length. “From the largest to the smallest of life forms, it is said
these manlike creatures – some of the oldest story-tellers call
them ‘Cherubs’ – a fanciful name I guess, but one that works for
now – these Cherubs toiled day and night for countless millennia to
create the marvelous animals invented in the mind of the Maker of
Worlds.”

Pointing toward the distant arched ceiling, Drorli
exclaimed, “This is truly the
cathedral of the gods!
It has
been told by some of the Ancients that this place was directly
connected to the seven palace gardens of EdenEsonbar, the most
wondrous of building marvels to have ever existed.”

He stopped and faced Hanna and Symeon, wearing a
proud smile. “It has been whispered by some of the old and wise
that the runes inscribed above the gated doors you passed through
to enter here, when translated, say ‘Belly of the Universe’ or
‘Womb of all life’.

His eyes gleaming like a child holding back the
greatest of secrets, Drorli went on in a hushed voice to explain,
“It has been rumored that this place is the greatest of all
portals, connecting to all the hidden temples within all the
universes of all the realms, the place where everything began, that
even your Eden was… is… part of this same complex. It is also
rumored that the door of the portal was long ago shut when the Lady
stole from Asotos the Key of Understanding and, along with her own
key, torn from her very breast, cast them into the Sea of the
Deepening Pits, there to forever remain until a holy knight who has
the power and strength of heart and mind to take up the quest into
that horrid world will retrieve them from unseen eyes and return
them to mortal lands. A most dangerous place it is, to be
sure.”

He placed a finger to his lips and spoke in a
whisper. “The Aged Ones have hinted that those very same unseen
eyes protect this secret world down to this day.”

He cast his gaze about the chamber. “You know how
rumors are, bedtime stories to titillate a child’s heart, maybe.
Many are the stories told by the Ancients. Oh well. What I can tell
you for a certainty is this: the day Michael was tormented near to
death, the sky grew ominously red and the ground began to tremble
in a most fearsome way. Buildings, towers, and walls built in the
ages before time tumbled down to ruin, and the spirit of light
retreated from this world. Gradian’s Clock struck a foreboding
chiming that refused to quiet for seven days and nights. Its
radiant glow faded in that hour, too, and has not returned since. I
know, for I was there.”