The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix
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“Oh, shit! I’m dying! I wish I was dead!” Darla’s foul ranting was cut short as she fell to her knees and erupted in another violent outburst of vomiting.
Euroaquilo dropped the dish he was cleaning and rushed over to render assistance. Darla heaved once more, puking up little other than bloody mucus. Cradling her in his arms, Euroaquilo attempted to support Darla’s head with a hand. The vomiting bout finally came to a finish, leaving an exhausted woman gasping for breath, while a tiny stream of drool oozed from chapped and broken lips.
Since her blood share with Zadar, the girl had been sick, oh, so very sick - blinding headaches with fits of uncontrolled vomiting, bleeding from her eyes, ears, and other body cavities, and terrible ghastly visions, while sleeping and awake. Indeed, she had been in such a frightful state the first morning, Zadar had rushed her to Lowenah, fearing the girl was dying. Lowenah saw that she was very much still alive, but in a sorry condition, suggesting she be taken to Euroaquilo.
Even with Euroaquilo’s curative efforts, the surgeon was called upon, her latest visit this very morning. Little could be done other than offer some mind-numbing painkillers, which worked for a little while on the headache, but not on the vomiting and severe diarrhea. When Darla took to bleeding in her tears, Euroaquilo reached out to Gabrielle, who managed to ease the girl’s distress a little.
“She needs some serious bed rest.” Gabrielle recommended - the one form of medicine Darla could not afford to take at the moment.
Euroaquilo was nearly in tears, pleading, “Please! Go back to bed! Mother will understand if you can’t be there! No one will question your decision to remain here. I’ll inform them, telling them all about your sickness. I promise. I promise...”
Darla glared at Euroaquilo. “Damn you! Don’t do this to me. I’m going if it should be the death of me! I was invited! My heart tells me I must go. I will go. I…” The woman was instantly consumed in another bout of vomiting, passing out from the agony.
Darla woke with her head on a pillow, the woman stretched out, lying on a divan. The surgeon was quietly remarking to Euroaquilo, “I’ve given her enough to knock out a horse. It will stop the seizures for a while, and ease the headache. There’s nothing left inside her to come out, so I believe she will be able to travel a bit, but I don’t recommend it.”
Darla waved an arm, fussing at what the surgeon had said. Euroaquilo thanked the woman, walking with her to the door. When he returned, he kneeled down beside Darla, asking if he could get her something.
Gripping his hand, Darla made him promise, “Swear to me that you will see to my arrival at the council. Swear, even should it be only my dead carcass, that you will get me there...”
Dismayed, Euroaquilo promised to do just as she had asked. Darla relaxed, sighing, falling off, fast asleep.
It was early afternoon when the auto-taxi pulled up to the South Gate of the Palace Concourse. Along with the driver’s assistance, Euroaquilo managed to get Darla up the granite steps and through the concourse doors to the tramwaiter. The ride from there to the tram waiters’ last stop up the North Concourse just past the Winter Gardens was difficult for the girl. Moaning in sick agony, she sat, head in hands, the motion of the tramwaiter almost unbearable.
Euroaquilo felt tremendous pity for his companion. She looked a fright – sallow-faced, sunken eyes and disheveled hair. Euroaquilo had done the best he could, but Darla was too sick to even bathe, let alone primp in front of a mirror. Even the woman’s comely form was lost in a saggy uniform, she being down over a stone and a half in weight.
The distance from the tramwaiter to the entrance leading off the North Concourse into Lowenah’s private world of the Upper Palace was not far, but for Darla it felt to take a merciless eternity. Euroaquilo offered to carry his charge, but she refused, saying her pride could not accept it. Eventually they arrived at the long-sealed ornate doors that opened upward toward the palace proper. Unable to make the stairs on her own, she finally relented, permitting Euroaquilo to swoop her up in his arms. Refusing to set her down after ascending the ornately carved rock-hewn staircase, Euroaquilo carried the girl the remainder of the way to a private theater buried deep within the palace butte.
Darla remembered little until being placed down in a chair some distance from the doors of the old theater. Yes, it was an old theater, secluded deep within the bowels of the butte under the Upper Palace proper, built during ages in time immemorial. In fact, the story was that this theater was the very place where Lowenah brought Chrusion when celebrating his coming of age.
The Ancients called those labyrinths of chambers, commonly known only as the theater, NakarHasabAhebYada , ‘knowledge revealed through love’s embrace’, in memoriam of that long ago celebration. The oldest and grandest of the festivals, known as ‘YadaAhedYada’, was held in memory of that event, and on its very anniversary. It was also rumored that Lowenah convinced Chrusion to return there with her in the days preceding the Rebellion. Whether rumor or true, the leaved doors exiting from the Theater to the North Concourse were sealed shortly after Chrusion’s attack on Mihai.
(Author’s note: Little has been written regarding the Theater. I suppose an entire book could be devoted to describing this magical, mystical, world of fantasia reality, but for the reader here allow the following to suffice. First, I do recommend, if given entry by those ever-watchful Spirit Guardians, you should journey into that realm yourself, for only through one’s own eyes, soul, and heart can a person begin to understand the unfathomable magnificence of the place.
Pronounced ‘theater’ in the common tongue, the phonetic pronunciation found on the leaved entrance doors is ‘Pru-cen-centheah-dourmie’, meaning ‘into the realms beyond’. Other than the hewn staircase leading up from the North Concourse and the antechamber into which it opens, the Theater is solely the invention of Lowenah’s hands. Those who are permitted to pass through the doors beyond the antechamber enter into a world of Lowenah’s making, her handiwork. What one experiences there is by the will of the Maker of Worlds.
This I have discovered: the Theater itself is inter-dimensional, being of no measurable value, for it becomes whatever Lowenah wishes it to become. At times, the space may be warm and cozy, possibly rustic, with a flickering hearth fire or golden spheres dancing across the upper dome of the room. Another time there might appear to be endless tunnels leading to worlds defying all known laws of physics and nature. Whatever you might discover there, one thing is always for sure: your guide will be Lowenah’s spirit and your adventure memorable.)
Momentarily, Euroaquilo was called away by a fellow officer, Darla convincing him she was able to care for herself. She lied... About the time the girl believed she was going to fall into a faint, a friendly voice called out her name. Chasileah had recently entered the Theater with her new acquaintance, Jonathan. At seeing Darla’s sickly condition, she excused herself, going over to where the girl was sitting.
Darla said nothing when Chasileah sat down beside her, the girl too sick to speak. After someone procured a pillow for them, she surrendered to the suggestion to rest her head on Chasileah’s lap. In only moments, the sound of Darla’s heavy, rhythmic breathing could be heard.
Jonathan quietly worked his way through the room until he stood behind the two women, informing Chasileah that Field Marshal Trisha was still in a meeting, but thought it would be ending soon. The fellow’s body language indicated his desire to linger a while, but not wishing to risk disturbing Darla, he quickly departed after asking if he could get either of them something. Chasileah thanked Jonathan, saying they were fine, her eyes following him as he walked away.
Frowning with growing anxiety, Chasileah chided herself for being there at all this day. For some time, she had lingered at a small eatery just inside the South Concourse entrance, there, struggling whether to face the new field marshal or slink away, acting the coward that she truly was. Afte
r all, it was not the first time she had let others down. What harm would come with one more, her soul already condemned by the murder of so many in her charge! But what of Trisha’s amorous advances? She quickly pushed those thoughts aside, feeling them to be the clumsy attempts of an inexperienced newcomer at exploitive seduction.
Chasileah was preparing to take her leave, the guilt over breaking a promise, or the desire to become better acquainted with Trisha insufficient reasons to stay, when a cheerful voice called out to her. Looking up from the table, she spied Jonathan waving from outside the eatery doorway. Waving back, Chasileah studied the man in his crisp new Army uniform, wondering.
Grinning, Jonathan hurried over to Chasileah’s table, offering pleasant salutations before commenting, “I was told you should be here today, and that I might find you at this very place. I was also informed that I should offer my hand to you and that we should be on our way, seeing that you have also been invited to the meeting.”
“I… I don’t know if I should.” Chasileah replied. “The field marshal spoke with me about it, but I supposed another time to meet with her would suffice. After all, I have not been invited to the meeting other than to speak with the field marshal. I…”
Jonathan cocked his head puzzling. “I have not spoken with Field Marshal Trisha about this. Only this very morning, a courier delivered these clothes to my apartment saying that the good field marshal wished me to wear them this day. As for the meeting, I was asked to fetch you by some very strange fellows who said they knew you well and wished not to be disappointed by your absence.”
“Who was it?” Chasileah asked curiously. “Did they tell you their names?”
Jonathan answered, “No, but they sure were important looking fellows! Never saw anybody dressed up as bright and fancy as they were.”
“Bright, you say?” Chasileah asked, a concerned look growing on her face.
Jonathan thought about it, rubbing his chin. “Well, the fellows were wearing uniforms similar to the white dress uniforms of the Navy, except there was a sheen to them, sort of a glow, you might say. And their faces seemed to reflect that glow. Handsome they were, more so than most of the other men I’ve met here.”
Frowning with understanding, Chasileah slowly stood, taking Jonathan’s hand. “Well, I guess we should be on our way. There’s no escaping the devil...”
“What are you about?” Jonathan asked, contorting his face in consternation. “What does the devil have to do with it?”
“Come on...” Chasileah grumbled. “It’s just something I say.”
Jonathan was pleased to have Chasileah walking beside him. He attempted to express those feelings by paying her an awkward compliment. “You look so comely today, what with that very attractive outfit and your hair done up so pretty.”
Her mind on other matters, Chasileah paid little attention to it, curtly brushing it aside by an offhanded reply. “I’m not in my Postal uniform this day, but still on business. Whatever may be on your mind will have to wait.”
Jonathan blushed crimson, stuttering, “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry if I have of…” He looked away, casting his gaze toward the floor.
Chasileah quickly apologized. “No. No. My mind was on other things.” She stopped and took Jonathan’s hand, smiling. “I have never met a man quite like you, your kind being strange to me. I replied to you before thinking. Thank you for saying I look attractive today. To be honest, I don’t feel it at all, at least on the inside.”
She frowned, drawing closer. “Those fellows you spoke about - they’re agents of Mother, come around when she’s doing something special. This meeting must be a mighty important event if they’re dabbling in it today. That makes me nervous...well, a bit, seeing they and I have done business before.”
Jonathan asked, concerned, “Are they dangerous? I mean, are you in danger, coming with me?”
Chasileah assured Jonathan that was not the case. “No, well not in the way you’re asking, but they can be quite persistent when they want something. I hadn’t counted on them being here, not thinking this meeting to be of such great importance. And those fellows asking you to fetch me is somewhat bothersome.”
“So this meeting is a big deal?” Jonathan asked, troubled. “And I was requested to be there?”
Chasileah answered thoughtfully. “Well, yes, I think it might be.”
Jonathan’s concern instantly turned to Chasileah. “So what do you think they want with you? It sounded to me like they wished to see you, but they said nothing about any meeting, and now you say you received no invitation. That, I only assumed…”
Patting Jonathan’s hand, Chasileah answered reassuringly, “Your Trisha may have had a word with them, possibly. After all, as you informed me on the rail-stage, King Mihai and she had quite a set-to on the morning of the Prisoner Exchange. Rumor has it that Mother chose to make her field marshal, even against the will of some of her counselors. If Mother did the appointing, then Trisha might have some clout with those fellows, and if she asked them to make sure I was there, well… I believe they’d oblige her.”
Jonathan puzzled, asking, “So who are they, anyway? You make it sound like they’re not of your…well, quite like you. I’d think them to be Ancients, but…”
“But what?” Chasileah asked.
“But you’re an Ancient, or sort of an Ancient, and you appear no different than any of your other siblings, other than I find you more…” Jonathan blushed.
Chasileah was curious. “But what, my friend? But what?”
Still blushing, Jonathan answered. “Well… more… attractive than most I’ve made acquaintance with.”
Pulling Jonathan by the hand, Chasileah hurried them along. “Time’s wasting. We don’t want to keep those fellows waiting.”
Exiting the stairway up from the Northern Concourse into the antechamber, Chasileah and Jonathan spied two rather tall men standing by the doors leading into the Theater. They stopped, allowing others by, and then watched what happened. Each of the splendidly dressed officers smiled, speaking the new arrival’s name aloud, and extended a hand toward the doorway, bowing slightly as the people passed through.
Chasileah whispered. “Those fellows are what we call ‘Cherubs’. If they are watching the gate this day, then it must be a very important meeting Mother’s having, and only those invited will be able to enter.”
Looking into Jonathan’s eyes, she thanked him for escorting her to the Theater, but warned they might be parting. “I have no invitation from Mother. Lord Trisha wished to meet me here, so I should probably be requested to remain outside to talk with the field marshal. I wish you well my friend, and hope that we may meet again another time.”
Jonathan replied in like, his eyes speaking volumes more. They then approached the Cherubs, Chasileah releasing Jonathan’s hand. To each one’s surprise, the Cherubs not only recognized Jonathan, but also Chasileah, offering pleasant salutations about how pleased they were to see the woman, and then ushered them both inside. Now Chasileah sat there, wondering how she was ever to escape her audience with Trisha.
Looking down at Darla, who was in obvious distress, Chasileah could only feel all the more guilty over her own feelings. Darla had fought with all her willpower to make this meeting today, not even knowing what it was all about, only that Mother invited her. All that Chasileah wished to do was run away and hide, possibly bury her guilt in a bottle. Others had done no less, even great leaders like General Planetee. What was the harm should she do the same? She deserved nothing, was worth nothing, having failed so many times and in so many ways! How the Cherubs allowed her passage this day was beyond the woman’s understanding.
From her place in the shadows, Chasileah watched the room slowly fill with people. It did not surprise her to see that most of the invitees were either counselors or officers. What did, though, was the number of ordinary and common children, a few not even of officer r
ank. Oh yes, great leaders like Ardon and PalaHar were there, but she puzzled over those like Darla and herself - especially herself - a washed up soldier long turned Postal driver.
Beyond the main auditorium were several small meeting rooms that opened into a large dining area set up as a buffet with adequate seating. As the various meetings broke up, the dining room slowly filled, people taking advantage of the many culinary treats prepared for them. From where Chasileah sat, she could look directly into the dining room through a tall, ornately carved archway. To her surprise, she saw other Cherub fellows, dressed in white finery, tending the tables with trays of sweet breads and cheeses, pouring steaming cups of hot brew or delivering large glasses of chilled drinks.
Looking about, Chasileah noticed that all the attendants were Cherubs. Never had she see this done, other than when she was a child in the Palace. There she saw all kinds of magical things, including these strange people that Mother said were her stewards. The Cherubs were always trustworthy and helpful. Although that was the woman’s first encounter with these Cherubs, it had not been her last. It quickly became obvious to her that Mother was very concerned about security this day and had taken measures to maintain it.
Jonathan and Mihai soon appeared in the archway, the two occupied in conversation. At one point, Mihai looked over in Chasileah’s direction, a rather surprised expression on her face. She then patted Jonathan’s arm, and smiling, motioned him toward a group of people standing near a buffet table. Chasileah raised her eyebrows in wonder at seeing Planetee and her three companions hailed by Mihai. The three - contemporaries of Jonathan, at least two of them, Paul and Symeon - but the third? Oh yes, Jebbson, an interesting character to say the least, from another time.
As Mihai and the others joined in pleasant intercourse, Chasileah watched the man standing so affectionately close to Planetee. This Jebbson had already acquired a reputation as a design engineer, but also with the women, or so she had been told by Jonathan. True, Jebbson was quite the gentleman when the two were earlier introduced, but Planetee’s reply to him at the diner before leaving for the Prisoner Exchange must have had some truth to it, especially in the way of Jonathan’s telling. So what was up with the two of them?
Gabrielle suddenly came into view, accompanied by some officers from Navy Command. She quickly made her way over to SarahCnidus, who stood near a serving table. Sarah reached out taking Gabrielle’s hand, smiling sheepishly. Gabrielle drew Sarah close in a sensual embrace. Chasileah could see from their body language that Gabrielle was more than casually affectionate with Sarah. ‘Strange.’ She thought, knowing that Gabrielle’s amorous exhibitions toward most of Lowenah’s children were pleasantly distant at best.
A sudden commotion drew Chasileah’s attention to the Theater entrance. Everyone stopped what they were doing, focusing their attention on the new arrivals. Chasileah leaned forward, straining her neck to see. In the doorway stood three people, a tall giant of a man, and another fellow named ‘Treston’, as she recalled. Between them stood a woman of rather delicate stature who appeared somewhat unsteady on her feet. Squinting to get a better look, Chasileah finally recognized the woman to be the heroine of EremiaPikros, Sirion.
Those who were sitting stood while several others hurried from the dining hall, followed by applause and cheers as the people welcomed their courageous comrade. Sirion grinned shyly, her stature shrinking in embarrassment. At length, the girl slowly waved a hand, quietly thanking everyone for such undue attention. Finally she took a seat on the far side of the room, her two bodyguards sitting down on each side of her.
A sick aching gradually grew in the pit of Chasileah’s stomach as she watched the Theater fill. Here were the great leaders of the Empire - at least those who had survived down to this day, their names and actions burned into the minds and hearts of Lowenah’s loyal children. Chasileah felt so small and unworthy. What was she doing here in the presence of these gods and sorcerers - a washed up officer, the Judas of Lagandow, selling out her people for a few fleeting nights wrapped in soft satin? How she loathed her very being...
Wiggling in an attempt to get up, she jolted Darla from a fitful sleep. Darla cried out, clutching her head in agony. Chasileah surrendered to the moment, settling down while stroking her companion’s face. “I’m sorry, dear. Sorry...” She whispered, promising to be still. Too many she had betrayed in the past. Darla was her charge now, by her own volition. For good or ill, she was fated to the hour. She would not abandon her little sister now.
Chasileah looked up in time to see Trisha and Jonathan enter from the dining room into the Theater. Jonathan pointed toward the shadows where she and Darla were. As the field marshal stepped in that direction, someone called out her. Stopping up quickly, she spoke something to Jonathan who, nodding, hurried off toward Chasileah.
Squeezing through the milling crowd, Jonathan made his way into the shadows, sitting down beside Chasileah. Leaning close, he whispered so as not to disturb Darla, “Commander Trisha regrets the delay. She had attempted to contact you earlier, but was held up in a protracted meeting, and now must attend to other duties. She wanted me to assure you that it was not her intention to put you on the spot.” He looked down at Darla. “If you wish to leave, I can help tending to our girl here.”
“No, thank you.” Chasileah refused his offer. She then reached over and took his hand. “Would you stay here and tend to me? Please?”
Jonathan watched tears trickle down Chasileah’s cheeks. He promised he would stay, squeezing her hand. “Should the world end this hour, what better place would there be than here?”
Chasileah leaned against Jonathan’s arm, resting her head on his shoulder, and began to quietly cry, feeling the weight of the universe slowly lifting from off her. Today the Fates were revealing to her a different road, a possible rebirth, but into what? This room’s magic was contagious. Long had it been since she walked these chambers, a maiden dressed in all her virgin finery, her world changing that day, delivering her into womanhood. Now she walked these halls again, like that maiden child, wondering what tomorrow the Fates would deliver to her.
After Euroaquilo finished up with the business of the moment, he gradually made his way over, being waylaid several times by fellow Navy officers and counselors seeking his opinions, eventually taking a seat beside Darla. Gently rubbing the woman’s back while she rested her head on Chasileah’s lap, he explained to Chasileah and Jonathan, “I begged her to stay abed, but she would have none of it, even if it was to kill her.”
Tenderly brushing her fingers through Darla’s dark, luxuriant locks, Chasileah looked about the room and back down at the woman resting there. “Mother’s up to something, making this day, this meeting, special. Our girl knew it, could feel it.” She looked up, pondering. “Lords and Ladies, great and small, famous and unknown - never have I witnessed such a vast mixed company at a gathering such as this.”
She turned her attention to Euroaquilo. “Never, in all my days since the Rebellion began, have I seen such an assemblage. There is little rhyme or reason to it. And the Cherubs? Long it has been since I’ve seen them gathered in such numbers, and serving us this day? No... Something special is up. I dread and fear it, yet my heart burns for understanding, it wishing to stay, while my feet cry out for flight.”
Curious, Euroaquilo asked, “So these fellows are Cherubs? I didn’t know what to think of them, maybe Ancients long departed and since returned to us, or possibly the sentinels who drive Mother’s ships, but Cherubs? I believed the Cherubs to be the flames of fire burning upon the dessert plain at the Prisoner Exchange, yet you say these are the Cherubs, and you are an Ancient. Can you tell me more?”
Chasileah looked about the room. Some of the Cherubs she recognized, remembering them from days long, long ago. She then turned to Euroaquilo, answering in a hush. “Little more is there to say. They are Cherubs.”
The lights were dimmin
g in the dining hall, encouraging people to gather to the Theater, when a sudden commotion was heard at the main doorway. Drorli rushed in, pulling on Eurawha’s hand, Zadar, breathless, following up close behind. As the three stood there, panting for breath, none appearing pleased, Zadar fumed, “Should have whomped her when I had the chance! Little brat! Miserable, troubling creature!”
He spied Symeon as they made their way to some seats, calling out to him, “Hanna’s got her hands full with that one! A real pill! Stowed away in the boot… a wanting to go see God, she did… didn’t know until we were miles away from the village. Had to take the screaming brattling back and tie her to a chair ‘til we left again. Cursed us something fierce, she did, for us doing it. Poor Hanna’s got her hands full, I tell you...”
Drorli harrumphed. “Trouble that one is, and is going to be even more so. Punched me a good one when I dragged her from the boot. Threatened her with Treston’s company if she didn’t behave. The girl said she’d stick him if she got the chance. I hope Hanna can handle her.”
Those privy to goings on with Ishtar began to chuckle. Good-natured, chiding comments regarding the men’s bravery were bantered about while others made light of leaving poor Hanna to tend to their responsibilities. Zadar defended his valor only as Zadar could, filling the room with laughter from his verbal antics. Soon they found their seats, their grumbling stopped, the lights dimmed and the room became quiet.
Now was come the hour everyone had anxiously anticipated. The doors of the Theater slowly closed while darkness filled the room, leaving a single beam of golden light cast down from the ceiling and spreading across the center floor of the Theater. Silent - all was silent, the crowd waiting with halted breath for what was to come next.