* * *
Ishtar splashed in the sudsy bathwater, singing a whimsical little tune while wiggling her toes in the steamy foam of her bath. The place was quiet tonight, the room beyond hers dark and silent. Gone were the flashing lights and half-naked man. Indeed, few had been the visitors since the girl’s return. Oh yes, the couple claiming to be Hanna and her uncle dropped in from time to time, as well as a woman servant delivering some food and asking about her welfare, but no soldiers, much to her relief. Earlier she had peeked outside, seeing the door was not barred, but chose to stay inside fearing trickery of some sorts.
This was a very puzzling world Ishtar found herself in. When the woman servant was tasked with bringing the bathtub into the girl’s room, the woman called ‘Hanna’ bent her back to give the servant a hand, she also thanking her when they were finished. After that, she assisted the woman with fetching the bathwater. And the woman servant did not bow low when being spoken to, but spoke up freely without seeking permission. She must be a servant... Only a slave would go about naked to the waist.
And what of her room, the ever-burning fire, and all the treasures made to fool her into thinking them to be hers? It made no sense. Why make a place look like her room when she could have been taken there to be held under guard? Yes, where was she? The forest and the animals, the machines without horses, the wingless birds in the sky...were the gods playing with her mind? This was all too strange to ponder.
Why no guards at the door? Wasn’t she a highly prized prisoner? She breathed a sigh of relief to think that Treston officer had not returned. Half-forgotten memories that refused to wake made the girl’s skin crawl with unease when she thought about him. Was he the reason her mother had not come to visit? But, why? What made her so important to have the governor’s chief officer bother with her?
Governor?! Ishtar sat upright in the tub, eyes as big as saucers. She could recall the governor, see his face as he screamed abuses at someone, at her. What was this all about? Had the governor put this Treston up to this mischief? What had she done that would be of interest to the governor? Something about her uncle came to mind, but what? She closed her eyes, trying to recall memories locked behind sealed doors, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Her heart intimated that this Treston held the key to unlock the secrets hidden in the recesses of her mind.
“Oh, the bother!” Ishtar snorted. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about the governor and Treston. Tonight she would luxuriate in the wealth of the evening. A sudsy warm bath and a full stomach...what more could the child ask for? The girl leaned back, closing her eyes, sinking neck-deep in the perfumed water, lavishing in its intoxicating bouquet as she drifted off to sleep.
Ishtar woke with a start, bolting upright in the tub. Something was amiss...she could feel it, an energy, a power, both beautiful and terrifying. ‘Take the treasure and depart this evil land. What is asked of you is too much.’ What was the meaning of those words echoing through her mind? The girl shuddered with creepy unease. Straining every muscle in concentration, she searched the rooms for any possible sound. All was still, deathly still.
Cautiously, the child stood and silently stepped from the tub and crept quietly toward the opened doorway. Peeking into the further room, she could see everything remained undisturbed. The light from her room cast itself across the small table, revealing a dinner bowl, half filled with ripe berries. Some small creature must have been enjoying a late night feast, the girl’s startled waking chasing it off. Well, it shouldn’t have scared her that way.
Relieved, she turned back toward the glowing blaze. Stopping near the hearth, she spread her arms wide and tipped her head back, soaking in the fire’s warmth on wet skin. Oh, she mused to herself, why couldn’t life always be this way, free of all encumbrances of mind and flesh? Just how wonderful it would be to remain this way forever. “I am a free woman!”
Ishtar’s eyes popped open in shock. Why had she nearly shouted out those dangerous words? Freedom was the possession of but a few, and she was not one of them. Such a declaration could get her imprisoned, or possibly fed to the lions! She hoped no one had heard. Quiet... She gradually relaxed, eventually returning to reveling in the warmth of the blaze.
Something stirred in the further room. Ishtar froze, her heart jumping in fear. There was the sound of a gentle footfall, she was sure of it. Someone was in the building. Silence... Suddenly feeling naked, the girl grabbed a satin robe and slipped it on. Her eyes searched desperately to see a movement, a shadow. Was Treston playing his tricks on her, or possibly the governor? She shuddered at the memory of his prurient gaze undressing her. Nothing, only silence...
Unable to endure the suspense any longer, the girl picked up a lighted candlestick and slowly made her way from her room into the darkness beyond. The candle’s flickering flame revealed little, Ishtar poking into every dark corner to make sure no one was hiding there. Creeping to the door, she chanced a look outside, braving to take a step onto the porch to get a good view up and down the street. Nothing...
Stepping quietly back inside and gently closing the door, Ishtar turned, stopping up short as she nearly cried out aloud. The light coming from her room was no longer that of the dancing fire. Oh yes, there was a golden light, but brighter, and it did not cast prancing shadows on the wall as the fire did. She should run away, but to where? This might be a trick, but for what reason? The girl was already a prisoner here. Her jailers could do with her as they pleased. Why play silly games? It made no sense. As she stood there, pondering all these mysteries, the light called out its seductive song, beckoning her to leave the darkness behind and bask in its glow.
Gathering her wits, she made her way through the opened doorway, stopping near the foot of the bed. Such a mysterious light! Its energy was everywhere yet nowhere. Again, memories from forgotten night dreams flooded the girl’s mind. Somewhere she had seen this light before, its soothing radiance so healing yet puzzling. As if compelled by an unseen force, the girl went in a search to find the source of this beautiful blaze.
After digging first in this corner and then in that one, the child stooped down on hands and knees, searching under the bed. Something was so wonderfully strange and familiar about all this. She had done this before, rummaged about in an attempt to make this same discovery. The child paused. She could recollect a voice calling out to her while in its pursuit.
“Ishtar…” Panic gripped the girl. She slowly sat back on her knees. Someone was speaking, just like in her half-forgotten dreams.
“Please, my daughter, my blood. It is the one who loves you so.”
Mother?! No. No. It was not her mother’s voice. Terrified, yet mesmerized, her hand over a pounding heart, Ishtar waited to hear the voice again.
“Ishtar, my lovely one, it is come the hour of the wine song.”
It was such a beautiful voice, so hauntingly sweet, an angel’s voice. Sudden panic raced through her body. It was told her that the Devil could turn himself into an angel of light. Was he or one of his machinations calling out to her? It might be so. Still, curiosity was getting the best of her. She must take a look at the person behind the voice.
Haltingly, the girl stood, her stare concentrated toward the wall beyond her bed. As she built up the courage to turn about and see whether it be demon or angel in her presence, a strange, tingling feeling circled the crown of her head, it gradually drifting down through her neck and into her heart, there to set it ablaze with a pulsing beat as if another soul were entered to sing an enchanting love song.
“My child...” The voice whispered.
Closing her eyes, with clenched fists, Ishtar cautiously turned about. For what seemed an eternity, she faced whatever might be standing in the doorway, too terrified to open her eyes to see the fate waiting there. Eventually, curiosity overcame trepidation. Forcing unwilling eyelids opened, the girl stood aghast, staring int
o a placid face with two emerald green eyes passionately searching hers. Putting a hand to her mouth, screaming, the girl fell backward, crashing hard upon the bed.
Ishtar had steeled her heart to see a hideous demon beast with horns and bloodied fangs, or possibly some evil trickster with sordid mischief on its mind, but not this, never this! Covering her face with her hands, she cried out in desperation as horrid visions flooded her mind, “Go away! Go away! You are not real, cannot be real!”
More abominable than the worst of her nightmares this monster was, its feminine beauty so divine that the child believed her heart was to burst. While Ishtar’s soul pained with consuming passionate desire, her head raced with grotesque nightmares and reawaking dreams of unspeakable tortures. Shaking in fear, she gradually lowered her hands, her heart craving to chance another look upon this woman creature divine. Tears streaming down her face, she sobbed, “You are not real.... You cannot be real... It cannot be so... It cannot be so! A dream is all you are. A dream, a dream I say...”
“A dream?” came the soft reply. “Yes, a dream… a dream who swore an oath to you so long ago. Across time and space we have journeyed to share this moment, to sing the wine song.”
“Who…who are you?” Ishtar asked, timidly.
Stepping forward, the woman extended a hand. “My Lord, please, take this time the gift I offered you so long ago. Enjoy the reward for all your hard labors.”
Ishtar was uncertain, but what else could she do? If she cried for help, who would arrive to give it? Besides, this person must be in league with them. She slowly stood and cautiously took a step toward this mesmerizing creature, again asking, “Who are you, and why do you call me ‘lord’?”
The woman lowered her gaze, staring at the floor, a troubled expression growing on her face. “You are become a god, arrived to release us from our shame, for it was said to us long ago that the ‘least would become great and the servants should gather their strength as mighty kings’. You, my lord, have arrived here to deliver us into a new day and return to us our lost glory.”
Ishtar was only more confused by this woman’s confessions. “This I do not understand! Why does the governor wish my assistance in anything at all? Does he not already wield the greatest of armies the world has ever seen? Besides, a woman stands no place near the throne of power in this world.”
The woman cocked her head in bewilderment, puzzling over Ishtar’s surprising response, asking, “Do you not yet know where you are?”
Ishtar frowned. “Do you play tricks with me? A prisoner I am, the governor’s private guard watching over this place. Secreted away during a poisoned sleep, I was delivered to this strange world, and only lying riddles and bewitching visions have I witnessed since arriving. You! Tell me where I am and who you are so that this least one may make an honest reply to you.”
So the child did not know where she was... This complicated matters, the woman expecting to be greeted by welcoming arms. What did the girl know? “Do you not remember our last meeting?”
The face Ishtar recalled, but where and when? Searching her thoughts, she slowly nodded. “A dark, foreboding place I recall - terrible and evil a place it was. Your face I see, you standing in the midst of that ruin, this strange light shining all about me and...and it was also glowing within you. But whether a person fair or foul you are, I do not recall.”
The woman slowly nodded with understanding. “You ask me who I am. This same question was on your lips at our last meeting. I said then, ‘the Child of Pain, for with birth pangs this world conceived me’. So my name I cursed and delivered to pits of dense darkness, taking up the blade of vengeance to salve my tormented soul. ‘Darla’, the gryphon’s mistress, a name of my choosing is what I became, offering up my virginity to the demons of war, my breasts giving suck to the ever-hungry pits of Sheol.”
As Darla confessed long-hidden secrets, her breath drifted cold upon the evening air, chilling Ishtar’s flesh while burning her heart with pity’s remorse. Clouds of doubt still swirled about in the girl’s head, but no longer did she believe this Darla woman to be an agent of evil. Only an honest soul could reveal such anguish, the longing for acceptance being shouted out to the heavens by every word coming from her lips, while the pain of wistful hope denied seeped from her every silent expression. If this was truly so, then why the horrid visions racing about in the girl’s head when she peered into the face of this holy creature?
Seeing Ishtar’s hesitance and bewilderment, Darla lifted a hand, pointing a finger. “On a day so wickedly dark we both wish to forget its existence, a purse of gold and a gift of freedom I offered to you… and you refused them both, choosing instead a road that eventually led you to this place. Many people you saved on that day, yet at a bitter price paid. I am come this day to offer you what little I can. No gold do I have but, for freedom from the chains that bind your mind and heart, I seek to provide release.”
Confused, Ishtar asked, “My mother...will you reveal to me where she is and why she has not come to visit me?”
Darla frowned, making a cryptic reply. “You, alone, know these answers, although they hide in deep shadows within your soul. Together we can search to find where she is and why you have journeyed far to this place. Memories you have that must awake before the chains that bind you will shatter. Better it is that two companions travel such a road, companions sharing each others’ dreams and visions.”
Pressing the issue, Ishtar asked, “So you do know my mother and of her whereabouts? Tell me if you know.”
Closing her eyes so as to not reveal secrets, Darla nodded as she did, adding, “Your mother and your father I have known, or known of. So much they have loved you, still do. In secret places, your mother resides for the moment, safe from the harm of any man or beast.”
“Then where is she?” Ishtar demanded, not appreciating this riddling with her at all. “And when will I be taken to her?”
Paying little heed to the girl’s headstrong attitude, Darla quietly answered, “When Gradian’s Clock chimes on glory’s hour then shall all the gods gather the sojourners together to ride triumphantly through the holy city. The answers to your questions lay locked within your mind. You are your own riddler, because any man awake would already know the answer. Take my hand and I shall help you unlock what remains sequestered behind chained and bolted doors. Choose quickly, for the hour is growing late and the magic of this place will soon sleep in restful forgetfulness.”
It was Ishtar’s turn to frown. This game was definitely not to her liking. She wanted simple, quick answers with easy, simple replies. Instead, she was receiving a chorus of sweet, musical chatter that made little sense to her at all. But what else was there for it? If this Darla woman was being honest with her - and she believed it to be so - the girl must play the game the woman’s way.
Shrugging in surrender, Ishtar answered, “You speak with mystery upon mystery, witching hours, magic clocks and holy cities, all too confusing, all too confusing, but seeing you have the upper hand, I will trust that you are truthing me. What must I do to satisfy your whims?”
Darla ignored Ishtar’s final statement and smiled while sweeping her hand toward the foot of the bed. “First, please, clothe yourself with the garments I have delivered to my lord this night.”
Ishtar was shocked speechless as she turned and stared down, transfixed, at a beautiful sleeveless gown spread out before her. Where did it come from? She had not noticed it until this moment. Then her eyes were drawn to two brooches festooning the gown’s shoulder straps.
“Here.” Darla stepped forward, picking up the gown. “Come here and I will assist my lord with this.”
Ishtar did not move.
Holding the gown with both hands, her eyes requesting the girl to come along, Darla offered, “I shall tell my lord a tale of wonder worth hearing if she will favor me with my request.”
Although hesitating at first, Ishtar’s d
esire to hear a mysterious story was too great to pass up. While Darla assisted the girl off with her robe, back on with the gown, bejeweling her, doing up her hair and finally applying the most delicate of makeup, she went on to weave her tale.
“There was a child born in a distant land at a faraway time, a child so beautiful that the very gods fell in love with her. Hiding in the clouds, they watched with pleasure as the child grew into a woman divine, her beauty having grown great also within her heart. This did not please everyone. Others hiding in shadowy places became angry, seeking a convenient time to do the child mischief.”
“Eventually the hour of opportunity arrived. The demon gods swept the world with their evil breath, turning the hearts of men wicked so that terrible deeds they did to innocent people who loved the Maker of Worlds. In those days there was a man, a great leader among his people, who was like a father to this child… for the child’s father was no more. This man was imprisoned by the rulers of that world because they feared the things he spoke. These rulers conspired together to bring this man and all his people to ruin. So they took the child and delivered her up to the crowds in order to make the man call down evil upon the Maker of Worlds with oaths and curses. But the girl refused to play the Devil’s game, instead bringing shame upon the world of men… and destruction upon herself.”
Ishtar asked, excited, “What did she do? Tell me, what did she do?”
Darla warned her not to speak as she carefully applied red balm to the girl’s lips. “Long is the tale if I revealed it all to you. War broke out in the Heavens, blood was shed, and gods, good and evil, fell to sword and arrow. In the end, the child was delivered up to the good victors who swaddled her in silken wraps and set her adrift upon the seas of Time. But of that part of the tale I must save for another day. Now allow me to go on.”
“While the child slept upon Gradian’s Ocean, the world of her day slipped under the ever-shifting sands. Kingdoms rose and fell, men were born, grew up, grew old, and passed on, over and over, until the child’s city lay in dust and ruins, its history cloaked in mystery and myths. The selfless deeds of the child, too, were forgotten by men, but not by the gods who waited anxiously upon the witching hour.”
“When the child finally waked, she found herself residing in a strange land far from home. Afraid she was because she refused to believe what happened to her, keeping it locked deep within her mind. She refused to believe that Death had ruled as king over her flesh. Oh yes, others had become slaves to it, but not she! No indeed! It was impossible to believe that someone could escape Death. It was so final, a king allowing no escape from his prison.”
Ishtar interrupted, laughing. “How foolish a child...” She then looked at Darla, asking, “Do you believe, as I, that death has no hold on a person, a promise my God has given those who pass away in it?”
Darla smiled, nodding that she did.
Wondering, Ishtar asked, “So, the child, did she finally accept that Death had found her door, and that she stood upon the edge of a new world?”
Grinning, Darla softly cooed, her warm breath drifting across Ishtar’s cheek, “That is the part of the tale I cannot tell you. We must discover it together.” She turned Ishtar about, clasping the girl’s upper arms, studying her handiwork. Satisfied, she encouraged they be away. “Come, let’s discover many secrets together.”
Ishtar paused, focusing attention upon this woman creature calling herself ‘Darla’. She studied the woman as though noticing her for the first time. How radiantly entrancing this Darla person was! Dressed in the same attire as she was, the silky gown left little to the imagination. The woman’s form was breathless in beauty, her face a goddess’ face, her eyes fathomless, and her gaze passionate.
Ishtar found troubling feelings welling up from deep within her soul. So much she wanted to touch Darla’s flawless skin, kiss her ruby-red, painted lips, and to hold this delightful creature close to her bosom. So wrong, it was so wrong in the girl’s mind! Never had she been with a man, yet to fantasize such encounters filled many of her haunting dreams. Troubling so, at this very moment, she found those erotic desires exploding within her heart for Darla, her body trembling with excited want to have this woman. She fought desperately against the overwhelming desire to pull Darla’s gown from off her shoulders and suckle the woman’s rapturous breasts.
Darla understood well the sensual emotions racing through the girl’s body. Had she not also surrendered her passions up to her sisters countless times, finding satisfaction fulfilled in their tender feminine touches? She, too, wanted to romance this person, but not through the seduction of an innocent spirit. Still lost Ishtar was, recalling the ways of licentious perverts who sought sensuous gratification at any cost to heart and soul. Old ways must depart in order for new understandings to emerge...revelations that love’s passion is delivered first to the heart and spirit, and then its acts are carried out in the flesh.
Romancing the flesh without first fulfilling the needs of heart and spirit paled into nothingness compared to when flesh and heart sang out joyously together. First she and Ishtar must fall in love – well, Ishtar must fall in love with her, Darla having done so with the girl many ages ago. Then Ishtar would see and understand. When that hour arrived, Darla would know, but this was not the hour.
Breaking Ishtar’s spell, Darla frowned. “Lovely one, we must hurry if the moody sun we are to escape this day. For should he find us too soon, there will be no magic.”
The spell was broken for the moment, Ishtar sighing with disappointed relief as her lascivious cravings gradually subsided. Accepting Darla’s hands, she agreed to go. “So I will learn of my mother’s whereabouts if I journey with you? You said it would be so.”
Darla waxed coy, not wishing to promise what she could not deliver. “As I said, you have the power to do so. I am merely your guide to assist in that and other discoveries.”
Hand in hand, the two walked out into the cool of late evening darkness. Asleep the moon had gone some hours before, but the stars twinkled brightly in the clear, black expanse. Ishtar searched the sky, quizzical expressions contorting her face. “What of the constellations? I cannot tell times or seasons, for there are none of them to be found. What witchery is at work here?”
Darla squeezed Ishtar’s hand while softly sweeping her fingers through the girl’s hair. “Witchery? No. It is part of the magic that I shall help you discover this night. Times and seasons are not forgotten here, nor are winter and summer, planting rains and dry fall harvests. Much the same as your home is, but the winters are much colder here, with snow aplenty, icicles, frozen lakes, and… and… it is such a fun place to be in winter!”
“Snow?” Ishtar asked, confused. “Like the snow that traders bring down to the city from distant mountains? Are we in those distant mountains that are filled with myth and magic?”
Darla laughed. It felt good to laugh, to laugh at sweet innocence. She had forgotten what innocence was, her innocence destroyed with her rape at the hands of a trusted companion turned traitor. That was so long ago, she being only of eight summers at the time. Secret she was concerning the matter, sharing the traumatic experience with no one, fearing, she guessed, that somehow they would accuse her of being a naughty child. After all, she was always being accused of being a naughty child.
So much like herself this Ishtar was, a misfit born into a strange world with no home to return to, delivered here to do deeds no child should be expected to do. But the girl did have pleasant memories from a carefree childhood past. These memories would help soften the trauma of the horrid visions when they finally awoke, as they must this night. How much Darla wished she had carefree childhood memories to cloak her foul nightmares. She smiled sadly, hoping the magic of the wine might make some of Ishtar’s carefree recollections her own.
Forcing a smile, Darla answered, “You truly are in distant mountains that may well be filled with magic, but not so th
e ones you speak of. Further from home you are than you may think at the moment, yet also much closer than you might believe.”
Ishtar puzzled over Darla’s cryptic answer, but said nothing. As they walked toward the street, the soft, golden glow of its lights filtering through the tall, leafy trees lining the curbs, the girl questioned some of her other experiences since arriving in this place. “I did see that Treston officer, I did. Has he journeyed here to this distant land also? Why? He orders others about, and they call him ‘lord’. How free am I really if the governor still rules these worlds?”
Looking down in thought, Darla pondered the question. “Treston? Treston?” She made acquaintance with the man just this morning - a fine fellow, she taking to him immediately. Treston had confessed his trepidations regarding Ishtar, and his deep, heartfelt, nearly worshipful feelings for her. Ishtar would not understand, not at the moment. Why, she did not even remember her final hours, much of it spent with the man.
“Treston?” She had to think quickly. “It is a very long story, but the short of it is this: Treston arrived here a while ago on a mission of sorts, at the request of our Ruler. Fearing for your safety, his assistance was requested, the feeling being that you might trust to the powers of your city and follow his direction. Sorry to have fooled you. In this land, the governor has no authority. Treston was doing us a favor.”
Ishtar sputtered contemptuously, “Dread walks in the footsteps of that man! Evil he is, or at least evil are the deeds he does. People speak in whispers his name, fearing his wrath should the mood come upon him. The governor is wicked, but Treston is evil!”
Darla stopped, looking up at a street lamp they were passing under, asking, “Was it not your uncle’s friend, Paul, who spoke of a man’s ability to change his being from that of evil to that of good? Why, I understand that Paul, himself, had such an experience of his own.”
Ishtar disagreed about Treston. “A leopard does not change it spots, at least overnight! Treston’s cruelty is well known. He’s a murdering bastard of a man!”
Darla nodded with understanding. “What you say of a leopard is correct, yet Paul was also a murderer by his own confession, and he changed his spots in one day, so to speak.”
Ishtar agreed, countering, “With God, anything is possible. Our Lord stepped in to change Paul, and for an important reason. Treston’s had no divine encounters that I know of. What would God want with him? Besides, he gives me the creeps...”
Darla shrugged. Wishing not to argue, she asked a rhetorical question. “What would God want with any of us? All that you say may well have been true regarding the fellow once, but I do believe he is a changed man. And more than a day he’s had to change.”
Ishtar harrumphed, asking, “How can that be?”
“Because, my lovely one,” Darla peered deeply into Ishtar’s eyes. “a long enough time you have slept for this man to have changed.”
“Impossible!” Ishtar fussed.
Darla disagreed. “A strange land you have been delivered to that is many days’ journey from your home, and you have no waking memory of it. Treston, too, has had many days to journey here. Time there has been aplenty for him to have become a different sort of fellow.”
Ishtar did not want to discuss Treston anymore. She changed the subject. “How long have I slept, and… and what were those little monkey monsters that attacked me in the wood?”
Darla grinned. “Your last question I can answer. The first you must wait on for a little while longer. Those monkey monsters are called, in our tongue, ‘duoreachees’. They are monkey-like in many ways, quite curious, and can be very friendly little creatures. Many of my kind make pets of them. They can become nasty little critters if they feel threatened. Those fangs can bite deep.” She rubbed her arm as though recalling an unpleasant encounter with one once.
The woman looked in the direction of the wood. “I was informed that they took to a woman who sang night songs to them. ‘Chasileah’ is her name, sings such enchanting songs. They trust her.” Casting her gaze back to Ishtar, she explained, “A duoreachee can be a loyal little creature. When you gain its trust, no more faithful a companion can you find. Should you desire, we can journey into the wood at some future time in search of the little animals.”
Ishtar thanked Darla for her offer, quickly declining. For the moment, the very thought of that foreboding forest giving her goose bumps. Picking up the pace, Darla hustled them along, eventually leaving the restful glow of the street’s lamps far behind. In time, they came to a grove of majestic maples. Darla guided the girl into the blackness under the leafy expanse of the trees, leading her toward the glow of a flickering lantern sitting upon a table-shaped, weathered granite boulder with a flat, polished surface.
Darla encouraged Ishtar to sit on one of the stone benches at the table, she disappearing into the darkness to momentarily return with an old leather bag. Carefully placing it on the table, she sat down beside the girl. Wide-eyed, Ishtar stared, wondering, as Darla’s fingers gradually loosened the straps keeping secret the bag’s contents. Becoming impatient, she reached over to assist.
Darla stopped her, taking her hand, cautioning. “Please, this is very fragile. Only today have I retrieved this treasure from deep within the caves under my home city. Since our last parting, I have been preparing this - a promise I long ago gave to you.”
Ishtar was aghast. “This aged purse must be a hundred years old! I do not remember well our meeting, but I do recall it to be not so very long ago. Tell me truthfully, what is this all about?”
The brittle, dry leather straps finally surrendered their hold, allowing Darla to open the cover flap on the bag. She reached in, retrieving a crystal flask. Holding it up so that the light would reflect the shimmering red liquid sealed within, she replied, “Answer all your questions I will, but first we must share a sip of this drink.”
She removed two cut crystal goblets, both trimmed in gold and chrysolite and bejeweled with diamonds and sapphires. Darla poured generous portions into each and then offered one to Ishtar. “It is a strong, sweet drink. Tip it back and let it drain down your throat.”
Ishtar hesitated. Darla encouraged her to take it and drink, emptying hers, demonstrating how it was to be done. Setting the empty goblet down, she remarked. “Rare this elixir is, and used only in celebration with close companions. It is a powerful potion for mind and spirit, freeing the heart to see what lays beyond waking thoughts. Please, drink this up, for our magic must begin soon.”
The honest sincerity seen in Darla’s face just made Ishtar pick up the goblet. Its pungent bouquet excited her senses, a musty fragrance like that of sweet decay hitting the nostrils when opening an aged chest filled with delightful treasures. With Darla’s continued prompting, she tipped her head back and let the drink slowly trickle down her throat, emptying the goblet. Warm it was to the body, its heat racing through her and up into her head. There it began to swirl about, making Ishtar feel pleasantly light-headed, but it cleared her mind and heart of any anxious trepidation.
“So delicious! This is so delicious!” Ishtar exclaimed. “Never have I tasted wine like this before...”
Darla removed the goblet from Ishtar’s hand, placing it back in the old leather bag. “What you drank, my love, is not wine, or wine as you have ever known it.” She opened the bottle again and filled the one remaining goblet. This time, though, she did not drink down the liquid, but instead swirled it about in her mouth before returning it to the goblet.
“As I have done, do the same.” Darla told Ishtar. “Do not swallow the potion we are making. Do as I did, and return the mixture to the goblet.”
The drink was already having a mellowing effect on the girl. Strange, though, for unlike wine’s effect, her growing lightheadedness did not cloud her mind. Indeed, it felt as if her mind had waked as never before. Her clarity of thought and sense was acute. With weak, shaky han
ds, the girl took the goblet, not caring what had been already done with it. She struggled not to swallow the bewitching drink, although some accidentally did trickle down her throat. In the end, she did return most of it to the goblet.
Taking the goblet from trembling fingers, Darla sat it down on the granite table. Looking back at Ishtar, she explained, “Now we must wait…wait for the right moment for the mixture to mature, for the drunken state to consume us. So while we wait, if you wish, I will tell you many things.”
Ishtar could feel the drug’s effect rapidly consuming her body, but her mind was frightfully awake. “Ple..a..s..e.” She slurred.
Darla smiled. She was used to hard drink, so the liquid from the bottle had far less effect on her for the moment. Ishtar was now a captive audience. She would not be interrupting the conversation all the time, for the elixir dulled the speech but excited the mind.
Darla looked toward the east, the gray glow of coming morning just beginning to wake behind distant mountains. “Long ago you and I stood upon the edge of all things, taking oaths and making promises. Your oaths made have taken you along many roads that have finally delivered you to this place. My promises have delivered me here to you. First is our celebration with what you call ‘wine’, and wine it is, of sorts.”
She picked up the goblet, watching its ever-changing glow in the lantern light. “It is the custom of my people who have common sharing in heart to celebrate a bonding of flesh and spirit. It is the binding of one’s soul to the other, a marriage of sorts, yet different in many ways. It is a special celebration rarely practiced these days. It has been told me that our ancient festivals were begun and concluded in similar fashion, the archon and his lady divine performing it in front of the assembled throngs.”
After a moment of wistful thought, wondering just how beautiful those celebrations must have been, she continued, pointing toward the goblet now returned to the table. “This special wine is very, very rare. Far to the north from here is a land that is always cold, the ground never thawing except in the occasional sunlit valley protected from the constant freezing winds. There, if you search very carefully, you might find a plant with green, waxy leaves growing among the hillsides’ broken rocks. If you arrive at just the right moment, about once in a hundred years, you will find luscious red berries filling the stems under those waxy leaves.”
“The plant is called the ‘tucklebow’ or ‘century plant’, for that is how often it produces its fruit, which is called the ‘tucklebow berry’, or ‘blood grape’. For one week in high summer, for three years passing, the tucklebow produces its fruits. At the end of the third year, the waxy leaves fall and the plant goes dormant, not to awake again for ninety-six years. Then, a year preceding the first of its fruits, the plant will send out its leaves to build its strength for the following year’s fruited bounty.”
Ishtar managed to ask, “How old is it?”
Darla looked toward the approaching dawning and then back at Ishtar. “This is the year of the green, when the tucklebow puts out its leaves for the first time in many years. I…”
Ishtar interrupted, surprising Darla who believed the girl should be in a complete stupor by now. The child’s constitution - or possibly curiosity- was greater than she had anticipated. “So…” She asked, “this wine is a hundred years old?”
“No, dear...” Darla took Ishtar’s hand in hers. “Please, save your questions for another time. The hour is late and I have a great deal to tell you.”
Ishtar said nothing, nodding her silence, letting Darla continue.
“Good. After we departed, I found myself in a great battle and suffered many wounds that took several months from which to recover. After this, I went into the cold mountains in the north and picked the berries that made this wine that you and I are drinking.”
Ishtar’s eyes bulged with excitement.
Darla held up a hand, cautioning her not to speak. “I will tell you this, for you do not yet believe me, but you must. Long have you slept. Many things have changed, your old world has changed, your governor no longer rules over the city. Why, so long have you slept that the world no longer remembers the name of your governor.”
She pointed at the goblet. “Nearly a score of times has the tucklebow blossomed and slept since I harvested its berries for you.”
Quickly placing a finger to Ishtar’s lips, Darla warned the girl not to speak. “You have promised, as have I. When we are finished, you will have answers to all your questions. I must continue.”
“Now, possibly, you have guessed that you have been sleeping a long time, a very long time, for ages as seen through the eyes of your people. And, yes, this may well answer for you why your mother has not come to visit, for she too has slept… is still sleeping.”
Tears welled up in Ishtar’s eyes as she began to realize the reality of matters. Suddenly, vaulted doors that long hid the truth shattered, spilling forth all the secrets hidden within dark foreboding chambers, flooding into her waking memory. A young lifetime of events, experiences, and emotions raced through her mind in a blur. The last of her recollections rushed in upon her, burning like a branding iron with all its maddening cruelty. She saw a man’s face. It was Treston’s, and she heard her own words to him. “My God has promised you life if you do his will this day. I will not risk you or your men harm.”
Then, as though through a long-forgotten vision, the girl looked over to see her uncle, distraught, and her mother weeping bitterly. Then her eyes drifted upward to a man standing high up on a balcony, her ears hearing, “By your own admission, you have declared your guilt while absolving your uncle of wrongdoing. This crime of yours cannot go unpunished! The penalty of death before the ending of this day is the lot cast upon you.”
Again the girl saw Treston’s face, his eyes filled with tears, he begging, “My Lady Divine, please forgive this miscreant for the injury I have caused you! If your god is willing, I will make compensation for the evils I have committed.”
Little more of those final moments did Ishtar remember, other than huge dogs knocking her hard to the ground and… and in the fleeting seconds before black clouds swept over her, the smile growing on her face and the words uttered in her mind, ‘I have won! I am become the darkness! Freedom is mine! No one shall ever take it from me!”
Terrified, the child cried out, “I am died! My world is gone so far from me! My mother?! Oh...my mother?!” She fell upon Darla’s neck and began a sorrowful weeping. “I am died! I am died!”
At length, Darla lifted the girl up, holding her face in cupped hands. She smiled, disagreeing. “No child, you have slept, slept long and carefree. Beside your mother you have slept, she resting peacefully next to you. Now you have waked, and she still sleeps for a little while longer. That is why you are here, to help bring about her awaking in yet future days.”
The wine of the blood grapes and the weeping had exhausted Ishtar nearly to the point of collapse. With what little energy was left, she asked, “Where am I now? What land?”
Holding the girl’s hands to offer support, Darla softly answered, “You are in the land promised to you so long ago. Your uncle, Symeon, and friend, John, spoke of it often to you. Oh yes, they used terms of whimsical splendor to describe it, they knowing only through visions and dreams at the time. It is true that the world of your day has passed by and been forgotten, but the world of men, descendants of your relatives still live. It is a place far away, but not impossible to reach.”
Though the girl was too tired to speak, Darla could see the questions in her eyes. She broke into a toothy smile. “Yes, this is the place that your kind call ‘Heaven’. It is my home, I being birthed here. You are not all alone. Some of your closest acquaintances are here with you. The man earlier claiming to be your uncle is truly him, and so is Hanna who she claims to be. And John is here, and your friend Paul, and… and so, so, many others - friends and strangers from your home wo
rld.”
Ishtar’s face clouded.
“Yes.” Darla answered. “Treston is here also, and for very good reasons. A changed man he became because of you, the governor, too. Long was your name remembered in Ephesus, so many people did your fearless spirit affect. Your uncle completed his tasks because of you. To this day, your world suffers the madness of the Christ because of your sacrifices. There are many Trestons in that world, thanks to you, changed their spots they have.”
After glancing over her shoulder toward the glow in the eastern sky, Darla lifted the glass. The liquid inside it was now a thick, opaque, blackish red. “The hour has come.” She declared. “The marriage feast begins.”
First emptying half the glass, she handed the rest to Ishtar, who then consumed the remainder. As soon as each had swallowed the brew, Darla reached her hand around the back of Ishtar’s head and drew her close, kissing the girl upon her mouth. Ishtar’s eyes popped open wide, feeling Darla’s tongue slip between her teeth. She had no time to react because, at that very instant, the magic potion consumed lifted her away to dizzying heights beyond the imagination.
Ishtar could feel her very spirit entering Darla’s mind and opening sealed doors, the woman having no power to resist the girl. She could feel Darla doing the same with her. It was as if the two of them were becoming one person, one mind, one heart, there being no secrets that could be hidden. Each stood naked before the other.
(Author’s note: The private memories revealed during the celebration of the blood-grape are sacred to each of its participants. It is not a written law, but one branded upon the heart. To reveal such secrets would be like the murder of an innocent soul. When evil entered this universe, trust subsided, so many of Lowenah’s children being betrayed by formers lovers turned wicked. Few were there in those dark days who would risk the wine of the tucklebow for fear of a traitorous lover.
The love song memories that bonded these two women on this very special night were not betrayed between them. Down to this day, their secrets shared belong only to the two, harbored deep with their hearts. There was one mutual experience though that came from neither, but from a power beyond the edge of the universe, a vision so profound that it had to be revealed to others.)
A rampaging vortex of screaming winds and explosive, kaleidoscopic colors swept over the women, pitching them end over end into the ever-darkness of an immeasurable void. When they came to their senses, the world about them did not exist. They could feel nothing, see nothing, touch nothing, hear nothing. Inward they began to fall, further and further from the outside universe until inward was the only sensation to be had.
It was while tumbling backward into the inner sanctums that the souls, hearts and minds of the two became but one being, one person, one thought. When the transformation was completed they were now become Tereobathos, meaning ‘watcher in the deep’, or ‘searcher of the expanse’, undefined in being, or vastness, for no sense of gender sexuality existed here. The world of Tereobathos suddenly erupted with emotions so powerful that no mortal could survive the profound ecstasy racing through its mind. Sight, sound and feeling no longer existed, only an indescribable, emotional joy.
In this magic world there was no feeling except that of a never-ending, living energy. Tereobathos learned it could gather up this energy to make or do whatever it wanted to do with it. Tereobathos made music, oh, such sweet music! And then it began to make things, energy things, every kind of thing Bathos could imagine. Every time Tereobathos made something new, a wave of erotic sensation flowed over it, but with greater intensity than it ever experienced when in human flesh.
Time raced ever on, or did it? Tereobathos soon discovered that time did not exist here. Nothing wore out or decayed, grew old or sickly. Everything remained as it was at the beginning of its invention. Tereobathos soon forgot if there ever was a beginning, for what was seemed to have always been. This inner energy world went on and on in a never-ending cycle of birth and rebirth. It was so much fun in this ever-world, so many things to be discovered, and so many different adventures to go on. Endless it was to the absolute sense, yet something did not feel right about it all.
Eventually Tereobathos tired of the sport. Oh, not because there were not so many other things to do and create. Every form of living energy it had created, machines of every shape and size, intelligence, too, many as much so as it was, but something was missing. What?”
Then Tereobathos began to feel the presence of a greater Bathos - the Deep One Without Measure - someone much older. This bathos called itself ‘Olam’, the Everlasting One. From Olam came the strange, bewildering feelings that took joy away from the wonderful things abounding in this inner world. Now, the feelings of Olam were that of what some might call ‘loneliness’, yet there were no words or thoughts for loneliness, only the feelings that troubled Olam. Eventually, Olam became very busy at making other living Bathos - deep ones, Olam bestowing every Bathos with a special name. In time, countless Bathos played in the fields of hypnotic energy, easing Olam’s troubling feelings a bit.
In time, Olam began to explore its outer self, and came to realize that it floated in an empty void of nothingness, yet the nothingness was something. So Olam discovered ways to give energy to the countless Bathos, and made bodies for them that were just like Olam’s own, and cast these countless Bathos into the void, filling its nothingness with them, shining spheres of living, immortal energy, the same as Olam.
Together the Bathos played with Olam in this nothing world, filling the void with all sorts of beautiful creations, something that pleased Olam very much. And the Tereobathos - Darla and Ishtar - stared on in amazement as it watched the unfolding of this immense universe of immeasurable delights. Still, Tereobathos could feel the loneliness growing again in Olam, but what could any of the Bathos do, for the bathos did not feel lonely. Only Tereobathos could understand what troubled Olam, and Tereobathos could merely watch, unable to do anything, either.
Olam eventually became sad and began to withdraw from the outer universe. The Bathos came close to Olam and offered whatever comfort they could. They loved Olam very much, yet none could understand what was making Olam sad, only Tereobathos, but Tereobathos could only observe, having no speech given it.
And Olam’s bright glow faded as it focused inwardly, searching for answers to its loneliness. The Bathos came to Olam, questioning what was being done. When Olam explained to them what the desire was, the Bathos would laugh and say that it could not be done, but Olam refused to listen. For ages beyond measure, Olam experimented, attempting to do what the Bathos said was impossible. If tears had existed at that time, Olam would have shed an ocean full.
Then, one day long into ages new, Olam’s glorious glow erupted to shine blinding again. The Bathos came close to discover what was causing Olam’s great excitement. When the matter was revealed, the Bathos cried out joyfully, bestowing a new name upon Olam. Tereobathos strained its senses to hear this name, but secreted from it the name remained. Olam cried out in joy, for it was a very beautiful name, indeed.
And Olam, along with many of the Bathos, grew very, very, busy, designing and building an extremely complex machine. When finished, Olam took some of its living energy from within and infused it into the machine. The machine sprang to life, filling the void with blazings of fire that shot ever this way and that until the edge beyond the void could not be seen. Then Tereobathos began to see a division between the blazing fires until web upon web and measuring line upon measuring line filled the darkness.
Upon these immeasurable webs, new fires began to burn, scattering this way and that across their respective webs. As the dancing flames raced about, the webs began to fade from sight until but three remained to be seen, and to the web in the middle Olam and the Bathos retreated, Tereobathos following close behind. They soon came to a fiery sphere, but this one a living machine of sorts. The machine Olam called a ‘planet’ – oh, but a
very special planet, far different from the others Tereobathos could see. This was the planet on which Olam and the bathos would invent and build countless, wonderful treasures that would then be cast or placed into the many other webs, including the two webs that could yet be seen by Tereobathos.
Tereobathos continued to watch in awe until it saw Olam gather up a ball of static energy and pitch it into the first of the two other webs. A blinding explosion ensued, flooding across the web until its entire surface was filled to overflowing with fitful flames of fire. Olam and the Bathos rose up from the surface of the planet in the middle web and darted away to the first web, exploring here and there their handy-work. In time, they came to a fiery ball of energy, and Olam saw that it was good.
Now Olam and the others, including Tereobathos, dove deep into the fires of the flaming ball, until at its very core the company arrived. There, a chorus of boisterous music caused a growing agitation within the ball of fire. Soon great chunks of fire were being cast out hither and thither, some to slowly fall back into the burning ball, but others to be set adrift until being locked in the ball’s invisible grip. Tereobathos lifted itself up to the ball’s tumultuous surface, staring out in wonder at the glowing fires far off in the sky.
When Olam and the others arrived on the surface, why, the distant fires were no more, just hard, barren rocks spinning about this giant fireball at their center. At Olam’s signal, everyone departed for one particular rock. Upon reaching it, the Bathos broke out in chorus, celebrating the marvelous machine that Olam had created. They then hurried away to deliver the many inventions harbored upon the planet in the Middle Web. Meanwhile, Olam became busy preparing the rock for all the inventions.
Olam looked around and found a mountain standing alone in the middle of a broad, flat plain. Upon the mountain, there was built a giant palace with many walled enclosures round about. To this palace, the Bathos delivered the countless inventions from the Middle Web. Soon the rock was covered with blue skies, deep, watery expanses, and green-covered hills and valleys. In time, there were creatures aplenty filling the seas, birds floating high in the sky, and every variety of beasts roaming about upon the land.
When all the Bathos saw how pleased Olam was over all their handiwork, they broke out into musical songs that echoed upon the air. Olam rose up over the Bathos, settling down upon the palace ramparts. There awoke within Olam a blinding blaze, the raging inferno enveloping Olam’s golden sphere. When the excited flames subsided, Tereobathos saw a person in womanly form standing where Olam had been.
The person in womanly form spread her feet and arms wide, and for the first time uttered speech from a mouth. The womanly form cried out a new name for herself. “I am become AsahIsEnos (IamDamOdem, Lit: ‘I am man’, pronounced in the common tongue: Lowenah.). From me will come the ‘Adam’, the geber and issah, to fill this world with my own blood.
The Bathos gathered around AsahIsEnos in elated excitement, and as they sang songs of rapturous melody, a cloud shrouded them in mist. When the cloud faded away, why, there stood AsahIsEnos, her hands resting upon a swelled belly. The cloud returned, enveloping everyone. When it had departed, Tereobathos found that the company was standing high upon a grassy hillock looking off toward the rising sun. As Tereobathos watched in amazement, over the rise came running a little blonde-haired boy with ocean-blue eyes. Then there came a child’s cry, and a little girl with flowing silver locks and smoky-gray eyes came on the run, calling for the boy to wait for her. Then there came another and then another, until the entire land was filled to overflowing with little children. As the children grew into manhood and womanhood, more and more little children continued to come on a run over the rise.
In time, there came over the rise a child with golden blond tresses, with eyes rich in depths of inquisitive blue, a misfit of sorts because full of questions she was. AsahIsEnos took a special liking to the child because the child was so different, filled with a happy contagion that AsahIsEnos had so long searched for in her other children. The child was taken up in AsahIsEnos’ arms and taught in all the ways of the Bathos – the Way of the North. As the child was swept away into womanhood, she was delivered to the feet of the ancient and wise in hopes that her contagion would also infect them, and to many did this contagion come.
Then many more ages passed. And to the Second Web came the Bathos, eventually AsahIsEnos and her children. Into the Second Web was power of life’s creation delivered until it, too, was filled with teaming oceans, skies, and fields. It was then that AsahIsEnos said to her children, ‘Let us make children in our image, for our enjoyment.’ But secret AsahIsEnos kept the powers this new creation was to have - that these new creatures, made in their image, would make for themselves offspring in the same way as the animals. For AsahIsEnos had finally succeeded in accomplishing her greatest dream...to give to her children the gift of making life in their image.
Yet AsahIsEnos wished to teach her older children humility, so she gave, first, to the children of the Second Web, the power to procreate in their exact likeness, keeping secret that soon she would bestow the same gift upon her older children. Meanwhile, she gave birth to even more children.
In time, AsahIsEnos delivered into the First Web a daughter with long, black hair and hauntingly deep hazel eyes. And she lifted up the child to her breasts to nurse the child, giving her the name, ‘my beautiful ewe’. Well, upon seeing the baby child, the girl with the happy contagion fell in love with the baby, and the child fell in love with the girl, snuggling also at the girl’s breasts.
As Tereobathos looked on - for only could she witness the events about her – AsahIsEnos prepared for her children a great celebration as she unveiled all of marvels found in the Second Web, and the secret of birthing she disclosed at that time. Then, bringing the golden-haired girl up before all the children, AsahIsEnos gave to the girl all the lands in the Second Web as a gift to her. Yet, not everyone celebrated.
A dark, fearsome shadow grew across the countenance of the oldest of all the children, he harboring jealously over the gifts given. He could see the power of reproduction, envisioning a world, a universe, filled with people praising his name. After all, had he not designed many of the wonderful things in this world? The oldest went off sulking, scheming up mischief in order to take the gift away from the girl and possess it for himself.
In time, AsahIsEnos gave birth to another child, a boy with dark wavy hair, and large hazel eyes. Beautiful the boy was and different – oh, so different, but in what ways AsahIsEnos kept secret in her heart.
Suddenly the rage of the eldest child exploded across all the worlds of men and beasts. He reached out and struck, with the intent to destroy, the golden-haired girl to whom the gifts of the Second Web were given. Chaos began its supreme rule over all the mortal elements. The black-haired girl child was pitched into madness, her cries of agony reaching across time and space. When she awoke from her fitful dreams, why, there was Chaos living within her. She became a child skulking about in the shadows, avoiding the day while haunting the night. The others were fearful of her for they saw someone residing behind her eyes, and heard cryptic, dark, foreboding prophecies echoing from a voice within.
Still, the little dark-haired child grew up strong, loving AsahIsEnos with a love deeper than any of AsahIsEnos’ other children. She, along with her youngest of siblings, took up the sword of vengeance to return to their mother what the oldest of her children had stolen. Long were the wars and many the battles, yet the vigilance of these two people did not waver, their righteous indignation only growing stronger as time passed.
In the Second Web, the ages of men came and went, kingdoms rose and fell, and rose and fell again and again. In time, there was a maiden born with copper-red hair, and disposition to match. The maiden grew into womanhood, beautiful in appearance and charming in tongue, when she chose to do so. Her uncle and his God she fell in love with, lifting up her voice in praise of Asah
IsEnos in the same manner of the Bathos. But the Demons of Darkness hated the girl, finally deciding to bring her to a finish in a horrendous manner.
So it came to be that a chief among the demons, known as ‘Zeus’ among men, but ‘Legion’ to his demonic kindred, lifted his arm to bring this girl and her uncle to ruin, but he did not succeed, for the dark-haired child lifted her sword and charged the enemy’s gate and, by her own destruction, delivered the girl to lands far from the evil of her world.
Tereobathos stared in amazement upon seeing the maiden lifted up to glory and set down upon a mountaintop. There, a silver-haired woman with smoky-gray eyes kneeled before her, handing the maiden a sword. The woman begged, ‘Please, my lord, take from me this gift, my own blade. Lead my armies to the glory promised us. Give back to us what has been stolen. Return to us our virginity… restore to us our honor.’
At that instant, the sun broke over the rim of the distant mountains, shattering the dream-share of the blood grape. Ishtar’s eyes popped open, wide-awake, staring into Darla’s alert, surprised face. For the first time, the girl felt the softness of Darla’s tongue in her mouth, the pleasant residue of the lingering wine exciting her senses. Darla slowly sat back, staring, perplexed, at Ishtar, who was staring back in growing disappointment at losing the woman’s passionate embrace.
Oh the kiss, that wonderful, sinful kiss! Ishtar could think of little else as her body cried out for more of Darla’s sensuous touches. On the other hand ,Darla was just beginning to fathom the visions of the dream-share. Taking Ishtar by the shoulders, she exclaimed, “Mother’s been busy with you! The wine opens hidden vaults to memories one already possesses, but not to knowledge untold.”
Ishtar argued that she knew nothing of the final dream, she as surprised as her companion. The girl blushed thinking about her amorous feelings for this woman sitting beside her. Those feelings suddenly turned to growing panic. She fell to the ground upon her knees and began to beg, wailing, “Forgive me, my lord, for an angel of God I have dared to touch and long for in an evil way! Spare, please, this child of wrath and destruction. In sin my mother conceived me. Please forgive this wayward child...”
Darla reached out, lifting Ishtar up while she, too, stood. Together, the two women embraced, Darla singing sweet love songs to the weeping child. When the tears subsided, Darla softly echoed sentiments of her own. “Oh my darling one, like a mother, sister, lover, I am to you. Forever one we are, no power existing that is great enough to break the chains binding us eternally.”
Ishtar sobbed, dejected. “But you are an angel, and I, I am just a foolish little child.”
Darla mused. “A little child? Maybe... Yet in this world - my world - which is now also yours, only the souls of angels and Immortals may reside here. You then, must also be an angel of sorts, unless you are an Immortal, and I do not think that is the case...yet.”
She then cupped Ishtar’s face in her hands, giving the girl a tender kiss on her lips. “I am your servant, to assist you in whatever way I can to make your stay here as pleasant as may be, at least for a little while. The hour is coming when we must both face the Dragon again, you in your way, and me in mine. Until then, whatever is your pleasure…”
Ishtar reached up, resting a hand on one of Darla’s breasts. Pulling it back in surprise, she found her fingers wet, a soaking stain growing on the gown. Darla was shocked by the girl’s expression, and then she felt it. Looking down while lifting the shirt of her gown, she saw milk oozing from her nipples.
“Impossible!” Darla muttered, perplexed.
Ishtar did not feel the same. She reached up, squeezing the woman’s round, firm bosom, her eyes revealing the rising passion in her heart. “Whatever I want is for you to come back to my room and share with me so many pleasant dreams and memories. Give me the touch, please, of a womanly touch, so that my heart does not erupt in disappointment. Let my lips taste your lips, my tongue refresh itself with the sweetness of your life-giving elixir. Wake my desires in your loving arms. Teach me what it means to be an angel.”
Though surprised at first by Ishtar’s amorous request, Darla did not hesitate to obey. Together, arm in arm, the two retreated to the quiet of hidden rooms, this time bolting the doors securely behind them.