The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix

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  Darla gracefully pirouetted about the floor on tiptoes, arms spread wide and fingers gently holding high the flowing ends of her sheer silk cape. Once more she slowly pivoted on her toes before turning to a stop, facing Lowenah, dropping her arms to her sides. She stood there, an absolute picture of mesmerizing beauty except for the sour look on her face.

  That look only soured the more when she watched the dancing twinkle and growing toothy smile on Lowenah’s face. “Beautiful! Oh, so beautiful!” Lowenah exclaimed, clasping her hands together in pleasure as she spoke.

  Lowenah’s excited compliments did nothing to soften Darla’s sour appearance. She turned her head to study the person standing there in the mirror, sputtering, “I look like a whore…some Canaanite whore!” As she continued to examine the woman in the mirror who was also examining her, she felt a strange erotic sensation growing within her breast, soon followed by a troubling ache in her groin. The woman in the mirror was seducing her. Wait! She was that woman!

  Darla quickly broke her hypnotic gaze and stared at Lowenah. She cried out in a pouting whine, “My heart burns to have relations with the woman in the mirror. Mother! I want to make love to me! Mother! What are you doing? What have you done to me?”

  Before Lowenah could reply, Darla’s eyes were drawn back to the erotically stunning woman standing before her. The visual image alone was making the girl’s heart race with desire. Suddenly, without warning, Darla began groaning with delight as one orgasmic spasm after another rushed through her. How long she lingered there, surrendering to her concupiscent desires, before forcing her eyes away from the bewitching woman in the mirror, she did not know. On wobbly legs, she made her way to the bunk and sat down beside Lowenah, exhausted.

  Lowenah’s laughing eyes looked deep into Darla’s. “Did my child have a good time? Isn’t it amazing what a little jewelry and some makeup can do?”

  Darla did not immediately reply. Though embarrassed over her reactions to viewing herself in the mirror, she desired to linger in the afterglow of such a profound experience, wishing not to hurry those feelings into haunted memories. Still, she was uncomfortable over what happened.

  Darla was not one to practice self-excitement. Only when the wine was on her or when in a deep melancholy mood did she surrender to her inner cravings. To her, such feelings were to be reserved for times when she was wrapped in the arms of another lover, a rather rare occurrence for the girl. Other than Euroaquilo, who was away most of the time, and the occasional impassioned interlude with Zadar, lovers were few and far between. Now, just an image - and of herself - and her body revolted to indulge in primal desires. And she had consummated that visual union with such ardent intensity that her legs could barely carry her weight to the bunk. This was truly disconcerting.

  Lowenah rested her hand on Darla’s knee, patiently allowing the woman time to bask in the after-moments.

  Finally Darla broke the silence, speaking up confused and a little dismayed. “For what purpose, Mother, have you done this to me, to make me so abhorrently seductive that I cannot gaze upon my own image without wetting myself with excitement?”

  Wearing her motherly grin, Lowenah replied, “Why not become excited over your beauty? You do not see your true nature, but there it is, in the mirror, seducing even you.”

  Darla shook her head, denying it. “That is not me, not in my true nature. Look! I was not born bedecked with jewels and ornaments, with painted eyes and toenails, and my skin by nature is milky white. You have made me burn my flesh with those tanning machines until dark like ocher I have become, looking little different than those temple prostitutes who sold their flesh for the honor of their gods.”

  Lowenah frowned, putting on a little pout. “They did it to honor their gods, maybe. You honor me, and never once have I asked you to sell your flesh to do so. Yet, if they so willingly gave of themselves to honor wicked and evil gods, am I demanding so much to ask you to attire your flesh in these trappings for me?”

  It was Darla’s turn to frown. “You know that for you I would cut out my beating heart if it so much as pleasured your soul for me to do it! Everything I have is yours to do with as you please, even if it be only on a whim. This, though, I do not understand.” She pointed at her clothing and jewelry. “Why now, at this Prisoner Exchange…and why me?”

  Lowenah looked her child up and down, musing. Darla did certainly look an erotic sight to behold. She was adorned with baubles and bangles galore, from her bejeweled, braided gold headband and ruby inlaid chrysolite ear bobs to the ivory pearl necklaces and tinkling bells on her anklets, along with the bracelets, armlets, nose pins, and several other and, at times, provocative piercing pins. And, oh yes, Darla’s richly thick, long, dark brunette tresses were tied into a thousand finely woven braids that swaddled her body half way down the girl’s back, each braid supporting dozens of sparkling jewels that glistened bright when the light fell upon them.

  These things alone made Darla very alluring, but Lowenah had done so much more to prepare her darling for the upcoming exchange. A red, tooled, diamond-studded leather belt, a handbreadth in width, rested snuggly on the woman’s curvaceous hips, supporting an elegant short sword dagger encased in a black diamond and red ruby sheath. “It is better for them to see deadly beauty than a helpless maiden.” Lowenah had said when asked about it.

  Also hanging from the belt was a highly decorated sporran, placed there in a halfhearted attempt to cover Darla’s womanly beauty, its very iridescent design made to captivate the searching eye, encouraging it to seek a peek at the hidden treasures beneath. Other than her flowing, sheer silken cape, the sporran and belt were all that covered the woman’s naked flesh. There was also a pair of red, open, high-laced sandals of the finest snakeskin for Darla to wear, Lowenah saying it would help protect her feet from the blistering sands.

  Oh yes, there was one more item of jewelry that Lowenah so much desired her girl to wear, an item that troubled Darla - a golden chain consisting of thousands of minuscule bells hanging from two clasps, one each piercing a nipple on Darla’s voluptuous, spherical breasts. When she moved, the bells would explode into whimsical, rhythmic melody, unheard by the ear but stirring any heart attuned to their harmonic music. The chain was not heavy and did not tug uncomfortably when she moved, but the silent music deeply troubled the woman with a pining ache, the tinkling bells being so close to her heart.

  Lowenah offered her toothy smile, one that could melt away the foulest of troubling moods. “You are so beautiful, my child! Dear one, you bring back memories from so long ago.”

  Darla did not smile, asking, “But why now? Why me? I am your horse maiden at this upcoming affair. As I have asked before, why do I need to appear as some forgotten Canaanite dancer who sold her flesh to the demon gods?”

  Lowenah sighed, looking down at the floor. “Long ago, long before you were born, long before Michael, Euroaquilo…why, long before most of my children were born, my darling Tolohe and my oldest son, Chrusion, led my other children in all the grand festivals. There were seasonal festivals, harvest festivals, birthing festivals, singing, merrymaking, going and coming, and… and… I guess we had a festival for just about anything we could think of.”

  “Those were truly grand times back then. At first I hosted the festivals, sharing in the closing evening celebration myself. Chrusion and I made such a wonderful couple, you know. There were times I became so wrapped up in my feelings for him that I secretly desired to hurry time along and carry him away into my immortal worlds, to have him just for myself. Oh yes, that was so selfish of me, but so what, it was how I felt about matters.”

  Lowenah took Darla’s hand, squeezing it. “Rachel, my little ewe, back in those times, life was innocent and carefree. My son was a very loving man to me, caring and gentle. I was his favorite love for many eons, for ages upon ages. I gave to him the dream shares that he gave to Tolohe and others.
I shared with him so many secrets from my immortal worlds, wanting him to desire those worlds, for I planned to take him away to them eventually, intent on giving into his hand everything I had made.”

  A dark shadow crossed Lowenah’s face, it disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Lowenah cleared her throat. “Back to my subject… Tolohe and Chrusion would often dress up in gay-colored costumes that represented animals, birds, clouds, whatever have you, and feelings, emotions, too. They would then dance and sing tales to match the costumes they wore, always ending their stories by falling into each other’s arms and making the sweetest most beautiful love one could imagine.”

  “In time, Tolohe’s dancing became most seductive, sending the gathered throngs into a heated frenzy. I must tell you, along with the sweet wine flowing freely, Tolohe’s sensuous moves and romantic love songs she cried out to the night as she and Chrusion made their love, set the crowds ablaze with a fever of passionate interludes of winsome songs in romantic dream shares.”

  She looked into Darla’s eyes, the excitement of those times dancing in hers. “Visualize in your mind’s eye, the Valley of HausterZion filled to overflowing with millions of my children all singing sweet love songs to one another, all at the same time. The musical refrains of my children’s unleashed passions, and later the joys of their dream shares calling out to the immortal worlds…” She rolled her eyes back in fond remembrance. “It was enough to fill the heart with boundless delight.”

  Casting her gaze toward the closed panel door, Lowenah peered off into the past, remembering with sad fondness those happy times. “The merrymaking and feasting might last for days. The Grand Festivals, during the time of the Great Junctures, went on for months. The sensuous dance and song was only outdone by the feasting and flow of intoxicating wine.” She looked at Darla, her eyes sparkling with delightful memories. “The blood grape grew heavy in the mountains preceding those wonderful festivals. Love’s madness consumed us all, we burning up our energy through laughter and wild romance.”

  Tipping her head back, Lowenah sighed winsomely. “We would eventually wake in the afterglow of our fervid exuberance and, in ones and twos, gather in the morning quiet to reflect on the good times that were had. As the sun would rise into the sky, the Consort Divine would begin singing the Parting Song, soon to be followed by another voice and then another, until the entire throng had lifted their voices in chorus. When finished, a haunting silence would fill the entire valley. Gradually, the children would quietly depart, leaving the valley empty until the time of the next festival.”

  Darla squeezed Lowenah’s hand. “Those must have been beautiful times, Mother. I missed so much by being born so late. Tell me, please, how those magic days portend the future days at the Prisoner Exchange.”

  Lowenah smiled sadly, her dreamy visions of past fantasies clouding over with regrettable memories. She looked down at Darla’s hand. “That was the way it used to be, back in the days of my naivety, when all the universe was innocent.”

  She sat upright, her eyes staring into Darla’s. “My little Rachel, I am sorry for the things I have done to you, must do. I do not do things on a whim, but pain I cause when necessary. Please forgive me.”

  Darla did not understand, but nodded. “Mother, there’s…”

  Interrupting, Lowenah patted Darla’s hand. “Thank you. Now allow me to go on.”

  Lowenah sat back, pulling a leg up until her foot rested on the bunk. Wrapping her arms around her knee, she leaned forward, staring aimlessly toward the door panel. “Winds changed, sending a subtle chill through our worlds. It was so small a change, so small that I could not, would not… refused to acknowledge it. But there were other hearts that felt the whispers portending hidden dangers. Those hearts spoke to me and I, even though I would not accept their warnings, was persuaded to listen and accept their recommendations. Thus the legends of Lagandow with its wizards and witches, and sorcerers and magicians were born.”

  Darla watched an aching frown drift across Lowenah’s face. She sat silent as her mother closed her eyes remembering, remembering times and seasons, might-have-beens that were too painful to recount. During those moments, her mother’s face aged, weathered, you might say, like an old tree that leans with the wind because it is too tired to stand tall. Mother was a good actor, but Darla could tell that this was real, no act here. Even for Mother, there were some things just too evil for her heart to recount.

  Lowenah slowly opened hers eyes, offering a weak smile. “My dear Tolohe was the first of all my children to gather her spirit to those Voices. In time, many thousands of years… longer than have been the ages of your life… my little girl returned to me, changed by the visions and dreams of possible future days. I was not pleased at what the Voices had done to her, but I continued allowing it until many of my children had followed my daughter’s footsteps into the dark abyss.”

  She began to slowly rock back and forth on the bunk. “My oldest child, Chrusion, made a half-hearted attempt to journey into those other worlds, but in the end refused to go, eventually even questioning the legitimacy of those who placed their feet upon that path.”

  “Imperceptible at first, at least to my blinded heart, a rift began to grow between my favorite son and daughter. In time, the festivals became little more than a practiced ritual for Chrusion, he playing the part of the prince because his brothers and sisters demanded it. I guess Tolohe’s heart broke way back then, but I was unwilling to accept it, I wishing to keep the wonderful world of my invention just the way it was supposed to be… just perfect. There was no place for unhappiness. I refused to allow its existence! I would not accept that my daughter could be anything less than happy. I did not give an audience for her heart’s anguished release. I would not contend with her tears, would not permit them.”

  Lowenah stopped, sadly staring down at the floor. “I made my little child suffer silently in dreadful agony all those countless ages from that time forward, denying there being anything at all wrong in my perfect little universe. Everything must remain as I had made it, as I had dreamed it, as I must have it. Perfect! It had to be perfect! Everything must remain dreamily perfect. After all, that had been my design from the very beginning. It was my world, my dream, my vision. No one had a right to spoil it, even my cherished little child.”

  In silence the two sat there, Lowenah gently stroking Darla’s upper leg while looking down at her other hand that was wrapped around her knee, pulling it close to her breast. Darla stared deeply into Lowenah’s face, pondering, wondering. Who was this person sitting next to her, the one giving her birth? Was she really her mother? Had Darla truly been born?

  Darla was the youngest of all of Mother’s daughters, having only been told stories about her birth. For her, those stories were all based on faith. She did not remember her birthing, or the day of rage and rebellion, nor did she remember Chrusion, the kind and gentle lover, the festivals, Tolohe’s anguish, or even Mihai’s attempted murder. All these were little more than tales spoken softly in her ears at times in her life when she was expected to make important decisions. For all the years of this wicked age, Darla had accepted, through faith, all these tales as though they were truth. She had accepted them all, unquestioned, as though they were fact, and she lived her life according to those facts.

  Now, at this turbulent moment, new disturbing revelations were being poured out upon her in a flood, too many revelations at once, and for what purpose? Was it true that she accepted them all with mere faith, and was it with possible credulity she was expected to accept these new revealed truths, too? A shadowy foreboding crept out from behind long-secreted doors of doubt, making her troubled heart jump in a confused beat.

  It was at that instant that Lowenah glanced over into Darla’s face, the girl’s disquiet and uncertainty growing in it. ‘So it is. So it shall be. Yes, so it must be.’ Lowenah sadly mused in silence. The hour was soon coming where faith coul
d not win the day. The child must choose to battle using forces other than faith. A silent war waged between mind and heart would decide the fate of all mortal things in that hour. Another eagle flew in the skies of hope, must fly, for the bird of faith would fail the day. ‘Yes.’ Lowenah thought, ‘Another bird must win it.’

  Lowenah was playing it close to the edge. The fate of the universe rested on the decisions of one person, and that was cloaked behind the facade of a Prisoner Exchange. All life hung in the balance of that decision made, as it had so many times before, yet her children did not know, had not known, and would not know of even this coming day’s uncertainties, would not know until… until all the links in a very uncertain, fated chain were forged into one unbreakable mass, the last of those links welded in when Michael would finally unleash her demons to the eternal abyss.

  Lowenah allowed her foot to drop to the floor as she leaned close to Darla and began playing with the girl’s fingers. Looking down at Darla’s hands, Lowenah quietly continued. “Then, one day, a woman, my daughter Anna – She was called ‘Krystolenia’ by her lovers in those days, meaning ‘Solar Spirit’ – my beautiful daughter Anna came forth to dance before the crowds at the Great Juncture Festival of Lauaninue. Yes, back in those early times we gifted names upon all our important festivals. My daughter’s dancing was so alluring and sensual that, from that day forward, all of those great events were called the ‘Festival of Krystolenia’.”

  “Anna was dressed much the way you are this day. Why, even the bells that dance upon your breasts are closely fashioned after the ones she wore at that time. Well! I must tell you, for centuries my child had secretly practiced the rhythmic, erotic moves she flawlessly preformed that day. Men and women alike swooned and passed out in a faint from the intoxicatingly mesmerizing dance and crying prose presented by my daughter. Chrusion was so smitten by her performance that he found his thoughts taken up by only her enchanting memory, so much so that he was unable to consummate the final love dance with Tolohe, his ardor refusing to rise to the woman’s sensuous advances.”

  Lowenah frowned. “I thought little of it at the time, just how devastated my darling Tolohe must have been to be so publicly humiliated for failing to raise the ardor of her lover for the consummating dance at the end of the festival. She finally, most graciously, called out for her younger sister to gather her charms to the Host of the Festival in order to complete the ritual. Never again was she invited by Chrusion to conclude the consummating dance in front of his brothers and sisters. And never a word in revolt did she utter, but silently she stepped aside, giving that honor to her younger sister.”

  Shaking her head Lowenah lamented, “Not a word did I speak about this matter either, I not wishing to see the real trouble brewing between Chrusion and Tolohe. Tolohe was a woman in question in Chrusion’s mind, he not even desiring a dream-share with her any longer. On the other hand, Anna was new and fresh, open to his suggestive reasoning, willing to perform every act of emotional, mental and physical desire that Chrusion’s heart could imagine.”

  “One of the many things I refused to see at that time was Chrusion’s growing selfishness, although the signs of it were so evident. One was his refusal to allow Anna to ever publicly perform that deliciously provocative dance again. Even her accompanying music and sensual lyrics were forbidden at the festivals, he saving all of those things for his private viewing. It finally reached the point where Anna would seek out her lord’s approval before she surrendered to the request from another of her brothers for a dream-share. I said nothing, did nothing, living in my looking-glass world of make believe, seeing only what I wanted to see.”

  She sat back quickly, patting Darla’s leg. “Well, I may have paid no attention to my little girl’s torments, but other eyes were watching. They looked with disapproval upon my wanton acts of parsimonious desires, but said naught to me at the time, tired, I suppose, of the unhearing ear that had greeted their many whispers so often in the past.”

  “They are also the Protectors of my heart’s carefree abandon, always seeking ways to relieve my soul of troubling thoughts. So, again, those Whispering Voices rose to the occasion and gave to my heart the very things it wanted, they realizing the price must one day be paid for such foolishness. But, until that day came, I would be allowed the happy fool’s dance - the only thing I wanted at the time.”

  “Still, a warning they shouted out to the universe, to me. A chill swept through my heart the day that Lagandow exploded in fire and rage. I knew, deep inside, those voices were angry - angry because they saw the dream I was living might ruin me and destroy everything I had created, and angry because they knew my heart must break before I would listen to their pleas concerning the growing discord in my perfect universe. To regain Heaven, I must cast all my children into Hell, and then follow them in. All good things must burn to nothing if we were to see good things again. This is why they became angry.”

  “So the sands of forgetful sleepiness they cast upon my world, giving to me the blissful, innocent existence I desired. But, alas, to bring that they placed a shadowy pall over the watchful eyes of those appointed to protect my world from the coming storms of dismay. My little child, Tolohe, was swaddled in the arms of those Whispering Voices, they easing the girl’s heartbreaking agony so that she could survive the ages until her hero would arrive to give her a rebirth. They did what I should have done, but refused to do because it would have forced me to admit to things too abhorrent for me to see.”

  Lowenah’s head sank, her shoulders slumping in forlorn guilt. “So we slept, I slept, playing in my make-believe world of dreamy bliss until… until the reality of my favorite son’s discord forced me to wake. But even then I did little other than to warn him of the danger through cognitive simile, afraid of hurting his feelings. Until my daughter’s attempted murder, I didn’t little more. That day, my lovely little world crashed and burned to ashes in its Armageddon, I almost destroying you in the process.”

  She looked into Darla’s face through tear-filled eyes. “There is no absolution for me, I too wanton in my evil to deserve any. But I must go on in order to return to my children the things they deserve. So I play a dangerous game on the very edge of extinction, consuming the lives of my children to return to them a hope for an end to the evil I created. I am Rhiannon, having chosen that fate to buy time for the ending hour’s arrival. I must destroy my very children to give them hope. This I have been doing for so long now, and must continue to do.”

  She squeezed Darla’s hand, tears flowing freely. “So, too, my darling little one, must I do with you. Please forgive me for this wickedness, but there is nothing else for it. I must find succor from this internal ache of a foolish heart. You are the cure, but the price is very high and, in my selfishness, I am demanding it of you. This coming day you will die or will live but, for you, will it even matter anymore? I am Rhiannon. I must feed upon my innocent little child to see this ordeal through.”

  Though surprised, Darla said nothing, feeling that she carried within her soul sufficient strength to best any of Asotos’ machinations. She also refused to believe what Lowenah was telling her, thinking it to be one of her mother’s melancholy moods that occasionally came over her, especially when telling stories concerning her rebellious son.

  At length, as her mother’s tears subsided, Darla softly replied, “Whatever you wish is my desire. The tales of the long ago past are most intriguing, but they do not answer my question regarding the costume you have adorned me with.”

  Lowenah slowly stood and turned to face Darla. Bending forward and placing her hands on the girl’s knees, she answered, “Allow me, please, to return to my account, for I have wandered far from the road we were walking.”

  “Chrusion’s passions continuously grew for Anna, she often being the only woman he chose company with. For months at a time, they would seclude themselves away in hidden places playing love’s game. I thought not
hing of it because many of my other children would play such games of love. It was not until long after the Rebellion that I came to fully understand the subtle changes in my son’s heart. Somehow, in some strange way, Anna managed to breach that growing chasm, the rift widening between Chrusion and his sisters.”

  “After this world’s last festival, before the Rebellion, when I witnessed the affection my son showered upon my daughter, Michael, I began to believe that my son was returning to his former ways of caring for his sisters. Why, he even willingly opened his heart to my charms, allowing me to gift him with a priceless treasure, one he never gained knowledge of. I did not see the malice and hatred hiding behind those hypnotic eyes as he whispered such sweet refrains into the ears of his sisters, my ears. Indeed, it was sometime after my world crashed in ruin before I understood the true depth of the man’s revolt.”

  Lowenah closed her eyes as if in pain. “It was shortly after the Memphis wars, when Legion captured the temple city, murdering its defenders. Chrusion requested a moot, seeking ‘a reconciliation’ for this ‘terrible misunderstanding’, or so was his claim. We gathered at Mt. Point – ‘Mt. Olymphiant’, or ‘Legion’s High Place’, as you know it to be called – in the Middle Realms.”

  “I assembled there with my court, Gabrielle, PalaHar, Tizrela, and… and so many other great viziers from the early ages. Chrusion came forward with his many minions –little, servant girly-men; they dressed up in such seductive, womanly ways. Shocked I was, my eyes not believing what they were seeing. True, many a romantic nights I had witnessed my sons’ share with each other over the ages, but never as a replacement for my daughters. These men were no longer men, but abominations of the flesh, they throwing away their manliness to the point of covering their breasts with womanly attire, and to even cutting away their own testicles and suturing their vocal chords closed in order to speak effeminately.”

  “This tale, I know, you have heard before, but not from my tongue. So listen, please. Bear with this teller of old tunes and stories, for in the past is where my glory resides.”

  Darla sat there, dumbly staring into her mother’s face. She did not like it when the destructive mood came along. This night it was particularly obtuse, filled with self-denunciations and loathing remorse. Why now? Mother might become morose in the quiet hours when the wine flowed heavy on lonely nights, but not at times like this, and never with Darla, alone, by herself. Something was up, but Darla could not figure out the cause or the reason.

  “Well…” Lowenah went on. “Soon I realized that Chrusion’s request for the moot was not an attempt to resolve any conflict. No, indeed, conflict was what he was searching for, some way to humiliate my daughters and me, to destroy our self-worth, to declare his contempt for all womankind.”

  Chrusion continued to flaunt his girly-men in front of us, finding reason to have them exhibit their femininity. When I made comment in disgust, he flew into a ranting rage, revealing his true pretense for the meeting. We all were shocked silent as he went on in a tirade that lasted oh, so long, decrying the women of this world with the vilest of vulgar speech and gestures, fit for little more than way holes for the men of his world who had not yet lifted themselves above such abhorrent abominations of nature.”

  “Finally, in red-faced rage, he screamed, ‘You have played the saint over us for too long, knowing full well the deficiencies of women are beyond reconciliation! Only the men weak of mind can find such contemptible beasts pleasurable. Empty nets of barren hooks they are! Their breasts are giving childless suck and their thighs of little more worth than to provide a gloved hand to a wanting cock! What they are lacking between their legs is only compounded when searching their empty minds, windowless dustbins of fickle emotions!’”

  He waved a hand toward one of his girly-men, crying out, ‘You know full well your secret treachery, that women are putrid manifestations of living abortions, drunken convulsions produced after your sleeping with the wild swamp pigs!’”

  “Bending the man low in front of him, Chrusion took his excited, swollen ardor and thrust it deep within the man. ‘See! This is love the likes of which you and your whoring bunch can never give!”

  “I remember little of the following moments, it passing like a gray mist before my eyes. I sank to the floor in sobs, unable to make reply, my heart still aching with love for Chrusion. In tears, I sat, begging him to leave off his dastardly acts.”

  “Gabrielle was not so weak-minded and feeble of heart. A fiery rage exploded within her breast and, in her passionate rage, she grabbed a buttress pike from the hands of PalaHar. On a run, the woman charged Chrusion, smashing him hard across the face with the shank end of the shaft, driving him backward so that he fell into his gathered lieutenants. In less than a heartbeat, she had turned and, with a screaming cry, charged the pike up through the man, bursting his heart with the spear’s point.”

  “As the man lay writhing upon the stone floor, Gabrielle turned again, facing a bloodied Chrusion. Raising her arms up and outward, she cried out in the voice of the Immortals, speaking words unuttered in these worlds since my first child suckled at my breasts. The air became thick and heavy, a dread falling upon all hearing the curses being pronounced. Suddenly, a blinding light flashed across the room, followed by deafening thunders. Gabrielle now stood the gallant witch, child of darkness, her spirit ablaze with the powers of the Whispering Voices.”

  “At that moment, I looked up to see my darling daughter become a pillar of blazing fire, she calling down evil on all men living and dead that should act in villainy against the Maker of Worlds. She now pointed a hand at Chrusion, causing his manliness to erupt in an excruciatingly hard erection. As he moaned in stunned agony, Gabrielle swore an oath against him. ‘I do swear in the name of my God, our mother, and all the Spirits beyond that, until you have consummated the Covenant of the Virgin with seven thousands of these most detestable of creatures, the burning fire will remain alive in your loins, and your aching manliness shall not rest in ease!’”

  “At that, Gabrielle and her companions gathered up their weapons and drove out the contemptible host, slaying many of the girly-men as they went fleeing into the night. Later, Gabrielle departed for the Lower Realms, bringing to fiery ruin the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah and all the cities in the surrounding districts as a warning to all that there would be no tolerance for wicked acts done against her mother.”

  Lowenah bowed her head. “I am ashamed that it was my little girl who displayed such love and care for the person who had shown so little empathy for her…”

  With tear-filled eyes, Lowenah looked into Darla’s emerald green pools of innocence, sighing sadly. “And now I am about to destroy another of my daughters. What else is there for it?”

  Darla glanced toward the mirror and then at Lowenah, smiling. “For you, it will be a pleasure to be destroyed. Death for such a cause is most to be desired.” She then asked, “Still though, why is it you send me to my destruction wearing the garb of a prostitute, or maybe a festival dancer?”

  Standing up straight, Lowenah turned and, with hands clasped behind her back, slowly began to pace. “True, to bring Gabrielle’s curse to a finish, Chrusion found the seven thousand willing women to perform the consummation of the Virgin Covenant with him, but afterward he refused the intimate company of any of his sisters. Anna did not join in the Rebellion, but remained close to Michael in her hour of need, attending to her desires down to this day. There existed no women that Chrusion found enjoyment in until…”Lowenah’s hand went up into the air, she shaking her finger, “…until a darling little Canaanite girl found herself dancing in the temple of Ashtoreth. When his gaze fell upon the woman, his heart beamed with an excitement not felt by it in many hundreds of years. He was so smitten by her that he sought somehow to bring her into his world, through vision, trance, or reality. It mattered little other than to have her. Before he was able to accomplish his purpose, the girl died
in a raid upon her city, Chrusion never forgetting the people who took the girl from him.”

  She stopped and pointed at Darla. “The value, my lovely One, is that the Fates may play the fiddle at this exchange in such a way that rescue may be provided for a child that is so dear to me and yet is in such great peril… peril that she is unaware of.”

  Darla’s face filled with curiosity, she asking, “So how will my garb rescue Sirion and the others from Asot… oh… Adelphos’ clutches?”

  (Author’s note: Although Darla respected Lowenah’s desire to not hear the name ‘Asotos’ in her company, she refused to speak the name ‘Chrusion’ concerning the man, using ‘Adelphos’, meaning ‘brother’, instead.)

  “Sirion?” Lowenah mused, “Sirion? Yes, she might benefit, as well as the others. I do not speak of her or them when I mention the coming danger.”

  She again sat down beside Darla, taking her hands while searching questioning eyes. “The one I am referring to is so much closer to me at this moment. Why, the innocent waif has no idea of the danger she is in. Even now my little girl stands the precipice of damnation, yet sees no danger. At this coming Prisoner Exchange, I must cast that little child so dear to me into the murky waters of tempestuous uncertainty. There is so little hope to be found there, but none if her journey does not pass through them.”

  Darla asked again, “Who, then, is the child so foolish that she does not see the danger, yet chooses to plunge headlong into those murky waters?”

  Lowenah sat there for the longest time, looking toward the doorway. Finally, in a whisper, she answered, “You...”

  A chill ran up Darla’s spine as her face went ashen. Although she could not yet comprehend the evil road, she began to grasp the gravity of coming events. Mother was warning the girl about certain dangers so profound, she did not have the words to speak that could give understanding to the girl’s heart. Whatever it was that Darla must soon face remained clouded in mystery until it lashed out at her soul to destroy it, for even if Mother could find the words, Darla realized that she would not understand their meaning.

  Gradually, the impact of Lowenah’s lengthy retelling of the history of Darla’s world began to sink in. The girl’s growing unease turned into an unsettling dread soon followed by an overpowering fear the likes of which she never before experienced. Mother would not tease with her child’s emotions, not now, not today. The danger to her then must be real, unimaginable, damning.

  Cold, clammy sweat began to ooze from Darla’s pores, carrying with it a sickly odor of hopelessness. What was she to do? A brave and fearless warrior she was, standing her ground against the greatest of foes. Could it be her demon’s growing power? No. Since Euroaquilo bested it three nights ago, it quailed at even her lone presence in that tortured land. A cold shudder racked the woman’s body. Then what was the unknown dread that haunted her very existence?

  Her pale lips quivering in fright, Darla asked, “So I will die tomorrow?”

  Lowenah closed her eyes, nodding, “Tomorrow you will die… or live.”

  Darla looked into Lowenah’s eyes just as she opened them. “Mother...” and began to quietly sob, tears running down her cheeks. “My life has been a prison of evil dread. I am tortured by both the good and wicked. I have been torn by the enemy’s spears and cut by my brothers’ words, but still it has been in life that I have done these things. No matter how horrid and miserable it has been, it has still been life. If I die tomorrow, I know there will be no returning for me. To be gone forever is a greater dread than my heart can fathom. You must help me… please.”

  Lowenah tenderly stroked Darla’s arm, sadly shaking her head. “You are the master of your fate. You must choose, decide. Weapons there are at your disposal. All but one will fail you on the morrow. Still, it must be of your choosing which one you will carry into battle with you.”

  Peering deeply in Darla’s eyes, searching her heart and soul, Lowenah smiled forlorn. “There is hope for you. You are a powerful warrior in many ways. Remember, the sword is of little value when your opponent is far away, and the lance may well fail you in a narrow passage. Choose wisely the weapon you will carry.”

  “But Mother!” Darla cried in anguish. “How does the blind man see the vulture until its claws have ripped away his face, or how does the deaf mute hear the serpent and cry out for help? I do not hear my enemy, nor do I see the field of battle. How do I choose? Please! I am your servant girl. Please help your slave girl in her hour of tribulation!”

  Lowenah shook her head. “A slave cannot survive forever as a slave no matter how benevolent the master. Only a free person will find success upon the field that you must tread. A free woman you are, and you must stand as a free woman tomorrow. You must choose your own path, a slave to no person, including me.”

  “This one warning I can give you, and heed it well: There is ever a warring going on within, two souls in one body, one heart. The one soul is always searching for ways to enslave the other to gratify its own cravings. In times of peace, we will surrender the one to the other and we shall find merry success but, in times of war, we must not allow its influence for it will seek the pleasant, easy road, the deadliest road. It is truly a treacherous ally.”

  She looked away and then back, staring into Darla’s tear-filled, questioning eyes. “Sometimes the lesser of the two evils is the most dangerous and deadly. Tomorrow you must stand as a free woman, choosing life or death as a free woman. No slave will survive the morrow. The weapon you carry must be one of your choosing, for only you will know how to wield it.”

  After kissing Darla on a tearstained cheek, Lowenah leaned back, smiling. “My little Rachel, it is I who ride in faith on the morrow, faith in my little girl. I believe she carries within her soul the most formidable of weapons to gain success. I trust you more than any of my other children regarding this one thing. I believe that tomorrow I will witness your power and might - your power and might expressed to the limit. I know you will be successful.”

  Patting her arm, she added, “Besides, you do not face the enemy horde alone. I have given you Phulakee,” She grinned. “the little sword you carry at your side. It may come in handy. Don’t forget it. Remember, Mother does play her games, but she is not frivolous in her preparations. Besides the garb of a sensuous troubadour, I have included the tools of a warrior. Use them both well and succeed.”

  There were some whimpers accompanied by quiet pleadings for further guidance. Lowenah again shook her head, denying the request. “The hour upon which the future of the entire universe will pivot draws near. You are the tiny stone chosen for the coming hour. For good or ill, I will toss that pebble into the sea. Tomorrow, regardless of the outcome, I must do this thing. Already the clock has struck the final minutes. I will not, cannot stop it.”

  She turned her head away, not wanting Darla to see her tears. “I have put this hour of test off for far too long already.”

  Darla reached out, touching Lowenah’s upper leg, stroking it as she had done hers. “Mother, please, one more little question for you, just one. Should I fail in this battle tomorrow, how will my death come?”

  Lowenah stared back into Darla’s face, hers filled with unexpected consternation. It was not a question she had prepared for, but the girl deserved an answer, an honest one. Lowenah sighed heavy. “My little Rachel, do you love me?”

  Darla was surprised. “You know I love more than life itself. Life is not worth living for me if you’re not in it.”

  Lowenah smiled. “Then I believe you will succeed.”

  Darla frowned. “I did not ask what you believe, but what of my death should I fail.”

  Lowenah at first hesitated, but finally relented. “You deserve to know. I will tell you.” She took Darla’s hand. “The heart is like a two-edged sword. It can cut both ways, for good or ill. You, for your part, must understand which way it is cutting, for it is tricksy, wanti
ng you to believe it has your best interests at stake. Should you fail tomorrow, it will not be because you have chosen wickedly, only poorly. Still, the lasting damage will have been done that cannot be undone.”

  “If you choose poorly, you will not die, not in the flesh, not tomorrow, but your demon cure will be lost forever. The demon that resides within you will never be cast from you, but will grow until it and you are one in spirit and flesh, eventually driving your insane. No rest will ever come again to your soul, no peace, other than an eternal sleep in the Web of the Minds, if that is even possible. I doubt I could tolerate such a future for my little Rachel.”

  A tiny shudder ran across Lowenah’s shoulders and down her spine. She feared that eventually, in her own grief, she might well go insane over what became of her little child, blaming herself for all Darla’s suffering. Then, in an attempt to ease a breaking heart, she would go wild with insane power and rage and bring to nothing everything mortal that she had created in order to forget the anguish.

  Should that happen, the worst of her nightmares would become reality. All her wonderful children, living and dead, would be no more, and the Whispering Voices would see to it that she would not remember it happening, they being the self-declared caretakers of her heart. Later, much later, from a deep, self-induced coma, she would one day blissfully awake to a new and empty universe. Then, under the watchful and caring eyes of the Whispering Voices, she would begin anew, in innocence, the making of another universe of children to satisfy her heart.

  Lowenah’s lips twitched nervously as she pondered that uncertainty. Had this happened before, she having gone mad with a broken heart? The Whispering Voices would never tell her. If it had, they would make sure there would be no evidence remaining, no clue or hint of some forgotten past. Lowenah’s heart would be held safe. That was their charge, their chosen way of loving her. But had it happened before, her worst nightmare, had it happened?

  Lowenah smiled weakly. She thought not. She did not remember it to be so, and even though the Whispering Voices would not have told her, they would have found a way to convince her to build her new universe in an unbreakable fashion, something they did not do. She also felt it in her bones, so to speak, that this was the first great experiment of hers, the first of her mortal creation. It must be so, she wished so hard for it to be so.

  “What will happen then, Mother?” Darla asked, fearing the possible answer. “What will happen to you, to my brothers and sisters, to all those I love, if I fail?”

  Gently rubbing Darla’s hand, Lowenah answered reassuringly. “Oh, I think you worry too much. Tomorrow will bring us success. All you need to do is be my horse maiden, and I expect you to do a good job at it.”

  Lowenah then began to fuss at Darla’s attire, asking the girl to stand so she could have a better look. Darla knew it was impossible for her to get any more answers from Mother now. The girl’s heart ached with countless worried questions, but she knew that even tears and pleadings would not pry further information from the Maker of Worlds when the silent mood was come to her.

  Darla dutifully permitted Lowenah the pleasure of wrapping her attention around her little child. She could see the trepidation hiding behind dancing eyes, uncertainty upon her words. Darla decided to allow this moment, pretending not to notice. Mother needed reassurance, too, to be made to feel there was hope, and Darla would offer that to her as best she could.

  As Darla slowly twirled, arms held high, she started up a silly, jaunty tune sung long ago when she was but a little child…a silly ditty, but those were the kind of tunes PalaHar sang for little children.

  “Oh come the merry spider dee,

  to weave its web between the trees.

  A happy song she so did sing

  to catch a fly upon the wing.

  But the fly did watch with its many eyes,

  and in its escape, made the spider cry.

  * * *

  Section Seven: Uncertain Morning