The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Blood Moon Rising

Glass shards crunched under the colonel’s feet as she cautiously entered the narrow street. The eerie silence troubled Darla as she glanced through broken windows and opened doorways. The lonely moaning of the snow-filled breeze was the only sound she and her two platoons of accompanying Marines heard while picking their way toward Exothepobole’s center. She motioned off toward her right for Leftenant Ilanit to take her platoon up a side street that would eventually deliver them to that same destination.

  Shortly after the Shikkeron and Divulsion made way for Sustrepho, the captain of the Divulsion sent a coded message to the ships shadowing the Shikkeron. Upon arrival over Exothepobole, two cutters and three gun-busses had joined the others.

  (Author’s note: A ‘gun-buss’, or ‘buss’ was a small bulbous transport or lighter that had been converted for war. Most saw duty as out-riders, scouts, swift packets or, as they are most romantically remembered, for clandestine activities.)

  The news of the attack on Exothepobole had been received by other ships lurking in the Trizentine. By the time Darla was prepared to send troops to the ground, four of Sarah’s WolfPack ketches were prowling the area, along with a small contingent of Tarezabarian vessels. With this added support, the captain of the Divulsion ordered two cutters down on deck to support Darla’s Marine landing force while the Shikkeron and Divulsion hovered above.

  Darla led the 1st and 2nd platoons into the city from the south while her captain took the 3rd and 4th in along the west road. The Marine captain from the Divulsion brought her three platoons in along the main northeast route entering the city. All the reports received by Darla were the same, littered debris everywhere and no signs of life.

  Ardon was on the west road with the 4th platoon. They were the first to reach the city’s garrison, a complex of buildings that housed Captain Ricteer’s Marine Company. The compound had been heavily bombed with incendiaries. Ardon slowly made his way through the burned-out buildings. This was his first real view into the ravages of war, and the things he witnessed there made the MoonDust incident pale into nothing.

  The attack had come early in the morning without any warning. Most of the company was sleeping when the first incendiary bombs crashed into the compound. Dozens died in their beds, burned bones and charred flesh still lying on twisted mattress springs. More bodies were discovered in what was once the dining hall. Several rockets had ripped the center hall apart, killing the kitchen crew and some early risers. The story was much the same throughout the confines, but the worst was yet to come.

  The mustering yard was near the back of the compound. It was an enclosed grassy area about ninety cubits square, with walls to its east and north, living quarters to the south, and a service building to the west. Several bodies were sprawled near the exits, having been shot down fleeing the burning buildings. But in the far west corner their corpses were lying around in a semicircle. The besieged company had put up resistance there before being overwhelmed.

  Ardon could hardly believe his own eyes. Most of the defenders were naked, or nearly so, having rushed from their beds. Those who were injured during the assault appeared to have been tortured and mutilated afterward and then left to freeze to death. A few yards to the east of this ring another group of about twelve prisoners had been gathered, apparently after surrendering. Their bloodied, torn corpses were so disfigured it was difficult to tell the men from the women. Indeed it was nearly impossible to really tell just how many dead lay there.

  A dizzying sickness filled Ardon’s stomach. He looked away from the carnage only to see a woman hanging from a tree, strangled by her own intestines. Her skin had been pulled down from her neck to her waist, apparently while she still lived. He let out a cry of disbelief and anguish and, falling to his knees, wept profusely.

  In the meantime, Darla and the first platoon had reached the city’s center, reuniting with the second platoon. There was little carnage or destruction to be seen here. Other than the broken windows and looted shops, it didn’t look much different than a sleepy winter morning in Exothepobole.

  This city was ancient, having been one of the first built after the founding of the Trizentine colonies. For hundreds of thousands of years, a brisk commerce had been carried on here, bringing a great deal of wealth to the colony, as reflected in this city.

  Among the grandest of structures was the Center Theater. It could seat many hundreds for plays and concerts. Besides this there were several anterooms, some large enough to be used for sizable banquets. Just to the east of theater was the Colonial Council Building, the legal hub for all business and government in the Trizentine. Other outstanding structures were the public baths and gymnasium, district library, trade and exchange market and public stadium.

  The platoons again split up, Darla’s captain taking the 1st Platoon west. The 2nd went east with Darla. “Spread out!” She called, directing Leftenant Ilanit to take half of the platoon up the other side of the street. Then looking at Jebbson, she ordered, “You come with me.”

  Jebbson had argued with Darla over his right to accompany her on this foray. She resisted, fearing for his welfare. “I have not paid the Boatman to cross the River Styx to be sequestered in safety while my brothers and sisters risk their lives to hold the line against evil deeds. I am no child, Colonel! Think me not a dandy. Few have seen more grievous destruction or been in greater danger than I.”

  Darla relented, apologizing, “I’m sorry. I sometimes forget that length of life is not necessarily a measure of knowledge and ability.”

  Darla was about five paces ahead of Jebbson when she suddenly fell back, dropping to her knees, her long-gun crashing to the ground as her hands flew to her face. Jebbson rushed to her aid only to be hit by a putrid wall of sickening stench. Soon, both he and Darla were keeled over in uncontrolled vomiting.

  Having seen their officers down, the others pulled on their filter masks and hurried over to help. As she choked and gagged, Darla motioned toward the opened double doors of the theater. While three soldiers approached the entrance, four others assisted Jebbson and Darla. A few minutes of fresh air eased their convulsions and, after sipping some water, they donned their filter masks and proceeded toward the theater.

  A sergeant, her face drawn and pale, just exiting the doors stopped them. “There’s no need, Colonel…nothing for ‘em now. All dead. No need seeing the show.” Darla thanked her, but decided to enter. She offered for Jebbson to remain outside. He declined.

  Accompanied by her squad, the two slowly made their way into the darkness, the light from the doorway and entrance windows providing the only illumination from this end of the auditorium. ‘Macabre’ is too mild a word to describe the sights inside that building. There were hundreds of bodies, possibly thousands - some piled in heaps ten and twelve deep. The very mass had started a premature rotting process, exacerbated by extreme temperatures belching from an out of control heating system. Bodies slowly heaved up and down from the decay, filling the eerie twilight with moaning sighs.

  Even with the filter masks, the soldiers could still sense the stench of decay and rot. As one eyewitness described it, ‘No mask or garment could filter out the filth of that place. It burned your eyes and nose like acid. You tasted it in your mouth. It even soaked into the pores of your skin. For weeks you felt it, tasted it. smelled it!’

  The antechambers of the theater were even worse places of horror. Piles of mutilated and tortured bodies were everywhere. Walking was difficult because of putrid lakes of blood on the floors, forcing one to slosh through up to an inch of the crimson goo. Corpses were sprawled across tables and hung from crystal light fixtures. What the Marines viewed at the garrison compound was multiplied hundreds of times over in this slaughterhouse.

  A sallow-faced Colonel Darla exited into the winter snowstorm. She pulled off her mask and took in a breath of the cold, sweet air. In her entire life, she had only once witnessed greater savagery. And yet the sickening to
rtures of Memphis could not compare to what had been practiced upon the innocents here.

  Jebbson stepped out from the caldron of death, Darla’s forlorn stare catching his grizzled gaze. Hr growled in bitter disgust, “Should I have known that heaven was so beautiful, I might have lived a more vile life, in hopes of attaining some lesser reward.” Darla could do nothing but nod, fearing if she opened her mouth, the vomiting would begin again.

  Reports from other platoons were all the same. The entire center of the city, from the baths to the open stadium, was one giant killing field. The colonel looked up the street to the Colonial Council Building. It had not been visited yet. She stiffened, working up resolve to enter.

  Jebbson sensed her dilemma, squeezing her arm. “Colonel Adaya, I’ll take it for you if you want.” He shrugged. “Ain’t much different than Cold Harbor…”

  Darla rested her hand on Jebbson’s and gazed into his eyes. In some way this strange off-worlder had the power to make things all right. He could infuse strength into a weary soul, give them power to go on when there was none left to be found within.

  In a shaky voice, Darla thanked him. “You are a wonderful man. Forgive me for resisting your company earlier.” She looked back at the building, resigning herself to discovering its mysteries. “Let us go together.”

  Jebbson smiled, agreeing. Darla looked around the street. Most of her soldiers were veterans, but this had been too much for many. She picked a half dozen who appeared able and called for them to come along. They headed for the building, steeling themselves for what secrets waited within. There are no words found in this or any language to describe what Darla and her soldiers discovered in the Council Building. Upon this place, Salak had personally visited his vengeance.

  Technician IoalendaKosbi was working in the library’s clock tower when the Stasis attacked. No one bothered to search the tiny room behind the clock where she hid. Seeing the street through a broken air conditioning vent in the outer wall for most of the day, Ioalenda watched events unfold. She finally slipped out of the tower early the next morning, eventually making her way to the nearby forest. This is her account as she related it to Captain PestelinGormei of the Divulsion.

  “All resistance was crushed by eight in the morning, the first bomb exploding at the sky port about five. By nine, the streets were filled with people chased from their beds, all stripped naked, with no protection from the cold. Many looked like they had already been savagely beaten. The women looked even worse. Soon the entire main street was filled, the crushing throng spanning the width and length of the entire street. In short order, hundreds of Stasis and uniformed Pseudes marched into the center of town, many disappearing into various buildings.”

  “Soon the naked captives were being dragged and bullied into the same buildings. From morning until late in the day, this went on. Gradually, the crowds thinned as more and more disappeared from sight. At times, a Stasis or Pseudes would come out and exchange places with a guard standing watch over the people in the street. It was well below freezing and no one was allowed any clothing. If any sat or fell, a guard would attack them with beatings until they either got up or died. Many women were brutally raped to death outside, in the bitter snow.”

  “Screams and cries for mercy filled the air until it sounded like the entire city itself was wailing one combined plea for release from its agony into the winter sky. Hour after endless hour this went on, until the entire street was empty. Then, just at dusk, a large ship settled down in the center of the city. Several naked people were hurried down an exit ramp by men in bright red uniforms. All looked bruised and beaten, and many were limping, while a few were being assisted by others. They were herded off to the Colonial Council Building. In a few minutes, an officer wearing a grotesque helmet, accompanied by several dozen sharply dressed soldiers departed the ship and entered the building.”

  “After the mournful cries died away, hundreds of Stasis and Pseudes went rampaging through the streets. For a major part of the night they sacked the city, taking whatever caught their fancy and destroying the rest. This went on until well after the midnight hour. Sometime after two in the morning, things began to quiet down.”

  “Then, around three in the morning, the man wearing the grotesque helmet left the Council Building with his soldiers, bantering on about foolish things. Two of his attendants followed behind carrying bags of something… it was too dark to see. The ship lifted up from the street and swept off to the east, soon to be followed by the roar of dozens of other vessels heading in the same direction.”

  The people Salak had herded into the Council Building were all the local and regional magistrates he could find. He was most pleased that Sustrepho’s governor, Tashi, was among those captured. When Darla and the others discovered the results of Salak’s handiwork, few were able to contain themselves from open weeping and the crying of oaths to bring this man to justice. It was obvious that none had received any mercy and that life had been gradually and painfully drawn from them.

  Jebbson and Darla searched the building together, Jebbson being concerned for Darla’s welfare. They finally found Tashi in an inner council chamber. Out of respect for this great personal councilor to Lowenah, nothing will be said other than her death had come slowly, she drawing her last breath sometime late the following day.

  As Darla leaned over Tashi’s body, she saw a folded paper tied up in a bloodied strand of her hair. With shaking hands, she reached out and gently untied the paper, opening it. Inside was written:

  ‘Ardon, sorry I missed you.

  Your brother,

  AsreHalom.’

  The colonel began to weep, putting a hand to her forehead, covering her eyes. Jebbson came close and crouched beside her. Her head fell on his chest and she began sobbing like a little child lost and alone. Jebbson folded his arms around her, gently rocking back and forth while humming a soothing lullaby.

  After some time passed, she looked into Jebbson’s face, tears still flowing down her cheeks. She whimpered, “It’s all my fault. It was me they wanted. Me! How will I tell Ardon? How can I tell him?! Oh, if only my life could be exchanged for hers.” Darla cried out in anguish, “Why must I live today?!”

  Jebbson held Darla close. The stress of the day was getting to her...too much wanton murder and so much butchery in so little time. Her eyes were dilating and breathing was sporadic. Jebbson understood that, under these circumstances, the woman needed something to occupy her mind and quickly.

  First, though, he reinforced her innocence. “It’s not your fault! Colonel, I don’t see your name on that note! It was addressed to Ardon. How do you know that Salak wasn’t gunning for him? Tell me! Can you be sure?”

  Jebbson’s demanding voice helped cut through the gray cloud growing in Darla’s mind. “Can I be sure? Can I be sure?” She whispered in halting sobs.

  Jebbson brushed a hand across Darla’s face, sweeping a tear from her cheek. His voice was consoling, but blunt. “We all have enemies, Ardon included. Death happens. And those who die are at rest. I was at rest. Your job is not to mourn the dead but to protect the living. Isn’t that true, Colonel?!”

  “Protect the living?” Darla became silent as she pondered matters. “Protect the living? Yes, protect the living.”

  She slowly scanned the room. A sergeant and another soldier were standing near the door, steely-faced, filled with concern. “Help me up, please.” She begged of Jebbson.

  Jebbson continued his hold on Darla as they turned to leave the room. Passing the sergeant, Darla asked her to have Tashi’s body removed to the Shikkeron. “Treat her gently, please.” She requested, adding, “She is a great councilor of the king.”

  Speaking up quickly, Jebbson directed, “Leave the others to their rest. And sergeant, no one should be in here alone! Now come with us and get some fresh air. Then bring several others along with you to assist with your work. Is that unders
tood?”

  The sergeant acknowledged Jebbson’s command, then taking Darla’s other arm and helping her out of the building.

  Fifteen minutes in the biting winter snowstorm soothed Darla’s mind. The wind-driven snow pummeled her face and numbed her hands, helping her forget the gruesome sights on the other side of the surrounding walls. A sudden blizzard was carpeting the city with a blanket of white, hiding the wickedness perpetrated there. It was out of this blinding storm that the Marines from the Divulsion put in their appearance. Accompanying them was Captain Ricteer and a dozen Marines from the city’s garrison. Darla let out a cry of excitement and, spreading her arms wide, enveloped her junior officer in a tearful embrace. Eventually, the captain went on to tell the colonel of events.

  “Around two in the morning, three days before, I had received a call from a small mining camp north of Exothepobole, complaining about suspicious lights in the mountain forest east of camp. Most of the company had just completed a grueling patrol, searching the western region of the district after hearing reports of Stasis being in that area. I decided not to disturb my other officers who were all exhausted. Gathering up a few Marines who hadn’t been on that patrol, we took two motor coaches and headed north to the mining camp.”

  “For three hours we searched the forest, finding little evidence for the cause of the suspicious lights. Finally, around seven that morning we began our return trip to the city. After leaving the mountain forest, the troop traveled south for about an hour through shaded valleys and narrow canyons before reaching the high road some ten miles north of Exothepobole. Breaking over the crest, we spied a few dark shapes circling the city. I thought it was the anticipated Shikkeron and its convoy finally arrived. Weather conditions hid the smoke of the fires from us, so we continued straight for the city.”

  “About two miles from Exothepobole, two small specks swooped from the sky. Too late, we found out the specks were fighters. They strafed the coaches with cannon fire, hitting the following one and sending it into a ditch. Two Marines were killed in the attack and three injured. I ordered the coaches abandoned and, assisting the wounded, headed out through heavy brush in an attempt to get to the nearby forest.”

  “Twice more the fighters strafed the coaches. By the time they realized the machines had been deserted, we were nearly to the woods. There was a lame attempt made by the fighters to search for us, but they soon tired of the chase and headed away, disappearing from sight. Now fearing the worst, we decided to pull back further into the forest, eventually stopping in a thick evergreen grove nearly a mile from where we last saw the fighters.”

  “My troopers had kept their wits about them and remembered to carry off weapons and supplies when we fled. Around eleven that morning, I sent out scouts in hopes of discovering what had happened in the city. They soon hurried back with news of finding other people hiding in the forest, many naked and suffering from frostbite. Throughout that day and well into the next, we searched the forest in hopes of finding more survivors. We brought them into our makeshift camp and provided what little we could for them.”

  “Some who arrived were so badly beaten, they were unable to endure the extreme conditions of the winter forest. Still, with the heroic efforts of my soldiers who even sacrificed their own clothing for others, most escapees survived. Boughs of evergreen were cut and laid out in thick beds. Then the naked were huddled together, and several more layers of boughs were stacked around them. Although many suffered from severe frostbite, there was little else that could be done for them. No one dared to light a fire for fear of it being seen by the enemy in the city.”

  “Among those escaping to the forest were ten Marines from my garrison. Three were severely burned and later died. The others, including the injured, survived despite suffering extreme frostbite. They told stories of heroism and despair, and how they managed to escape.”

  Captain Ricteer went on to relate those harrowing events.

  “While others held the enemy at bay, some Marines slipped in a side door of the service building and crawled into a parked motor transport. One of the soldiers started the machine. Leftenant KatoriStanson assisted some wounded onto the transport, then ordering the driver to leave, dove back out into the firestorm. The driver gunned the machine, crashing through the back wall of the compound’s service building just before a bomb blast engulfed the building in flames.”

  “They made their escape down the narrow streets, smashing their way through two city roadblocks and engaging in several running firefights. Fleeing the city, the troop came upon several enemy ships parked along the west road. The driver charged ahead and plowed through a company of Pseudes soldiers. Others in the transport put down heavy fire into the panicked crowd. The confusion bought precious time, allowing them to get past the ships and away.”

  “The Marines abandoned the transport at the edge of the western wood when fighters were spotted. They eventually made their way north with other refugees until being found by my scouts.”

  “Shortly after your Marine Company landed this morning, a cutter reconnoitering the area made contact with my pickets, and is presently transporting the survivors to a makeshift camp set up just outside the city.”

  Captain Ricteer concluded, “I believe there must be close to three hundred made it, Colonel. All together, twenty-three of my people escaped the attack. None of the other officers besides myself did.”

  A Marine called over to Darla. Members of the 3rd and 4th Platoons were just making their appearance out of the swirling snow. Darla looked at Jebbson in desperation. He studied her growing panic. Ardon would soon be here. What was Darla to do? Never had she felt so helpless. Never had she anguished so over another’s loss. Never had she experienced pain through another person’s heart like she did now.

  “Give me the note!” Jebbson demanded.

  Darla stared dumbly at Jebbson.

  “Give me the note!” Jebbson demanded again. There was precious little time to lose. “Look! There are times when rank and command must be overlooked. This is not yours to do. This is the moment when men must stand alone as brothers. It was for times like this that God made men the way they are.”

  Darla’s frowned and nodded. Saying nothing, she handed Jebbson the scrawled message.

  “Good!” He said, much relieved and, taking her hand, added, “You must stay with me. Ardon will have need of your womanly touch soon. Be silent for now. Your soothing words will be more powerful if they are not attached to this hell.”

  Darla closed her eyes and, sucking her lower lip in between her teeth, nodded again. Jebbson tenderly caressed the woman’s hand. With teary eyes, she gazed into Jebbson’s face, whispering, “Thank you…”

  She and Jebbson both turned to face the approaching soldiers.

  Eventually, Ardon materialized like a ghost from the storm. He was leaned over a litter carried by four men, singing a strange harmonic song to someone hidden under a stack of blankets and coats. Jebbson and Darla silently waited for the party to draw close, seeing little more than the long, red, curly locks of the person being carried. Jebbson stepped forward for a closer look.

  Bending down next to Ardon, Jebbson peered into the sickly blue face of a woman, her half-opened eyes glazed over. Through dark, purple lips she mumbled incoherently, slipping in and out of a dream world. Speaking to himself, Jebbson asked, “What do we have here?”

  Ardon gently held the woman’s hand while tenderly stroking her face with the fingers of his other hand. He paused his singing and looked over at Jebbson. “This is Sergeant OidaMētra. Her left leg was nearly severed in the firefight at the compound. We found her under a pile of rubbish where she managed to crawl to keep from being discovered.”

  He leaned close and whispered, “The things this child witnessed go beyond my imaginings. How she survived until now with that horrendous wound and exposed, naked, to the elements, I cannot understand.”

  Je
bbson asked, “Will the sergeant make it?”

  Ardon replied, “I believe so, but with constant care for the time being.”

  Jebbson placed a firm grip on Ardon’s shoulder and nodded in satisfaction. “The shuttles have been called. They will be here momentarily.” He then looked him in the eye. “My friend, may I have a word with you?”

  Ardon slowly stood erect. Darla had slipped in next to Jebbson while the two men were conversing. Ardon glanced back and forth between Jebbson’s hardened, stoic appearance with his piercing gaze, and Darla’s drawn and pale tearstained face with her puffy, reddened eyes. A cloud of gloom and uncertainty began to engulf him. He turned back to the litter bearers and asked them to care for the Oida’s needs.

  Jebbson reached his arm across Ardon’s shoulder, pulling him close. “Come, my friend. Let’s walk awhile.” They slowly strode up the street.

  In time, Jebbson revealed the news of Tashi’s death. Ardon let out a wail of grief and sorrow and started to bolt for the Council Building. Jebbson held him in an iron grip. “No, my friend, not today! Let our sister rest in peace. Remember her as she would wish for you to.”

  Ardon began to resist. “I must go! I must!” He cried, struggling to get free of Jebbson’s grasp.

  “Not today, my friend!” Jebbson repeated, increasing his hold. “The hour calls you to other duties that you must not neglect. Tomorrow the spring shall come. Give it rest.”

  Ardon finally stopped resisting and fell on Jebbson’s shoulder, unleashing a torrent of tears in grief. He sobbed on and on, repeating Tashi’s name over and over again. Taking Jebbson’s advice to keep silent but remain near, Darla started to back away, fearful of losing control of her own emotions. Jebbson motioned Darla to stay. Sensing something going on, Ardon looked up at her, catching her eye. The total devastation on Ardon’s face was too much for Darla. She, too, began to wail in grief.

  Ardon let go of Jebbson and reached for the woman. The two embraced each other as though life itself depended on this moment. At seeing their uncontrolled release of unabashed anguish, the other soldiers present could no longer contain their own emotions. The sky was rent with wails and laments for loss of friends and lovers, for loss of dreams and hopes, and for loss of innocence.

  On that day the name of the city was changed from Exothepobole to ChōrionLupē, meaning ‘The Land of Grief’. The bodies of those murdered were not buried, but were interred within hidden rooms behind outer walls, secreted away from searching eyes. Then the entire city was burned with fire so that only the ancient stone walls remained standing. To this day, smoke still rises from the ruins and a pall of ash hangs over the surrounding hills. No flower or green plant nor any beast or bird can tolerate this forlorn land.

  It is said that you can still hear the echoes from that day should you stand in the ruins of the city when the winter winds drift down from the north. Rumor has it that Lowenah grieved so over the wanton loss of her children that she left their Cherubs remain as a remembrance for what the innocent suffered. It is they who sing the haunting songs of sorrow and pain, never allowing us to forget the wickedness done there.

  Should you journey to that land, respect the houses of the slain. Do not leave the solace of the streets to explore the dark openings beyond, for the Cherubs do not take kindly to intruders who disturb the bones resting in holy places.

  Grief’s energy gradually waned, leaving the people emotionally drained. Jebbson drew Ardon’s attention back to the needs at hand, he kindly reminding Ardon of other responsibilities. “The dead rest in peace. It is our duty to assist the living.” Ardon appeared confused. “Were you not singing a healing song to Oida?” Jebbson asked, pointing toward the woman lying on the stretcher.

  It took a moment for Jebbson’s question to register. Ardon finally nodded, speaking like a person waking from a dream. “Yes…yes, it was a healing song.”

  Jebbson was gentle, but firm. “Lowenah has given her son a charge. You must give that child back life and free her from her bad dreams, for is it not said by your own people, ‘a healer is bound to the sick one until a cure is effected, or the soul does die, for a healer is able to secure the mind so the soul may keep living.’?” Ardon glanced over at Darla with concern. Jebbson shook his head. “Not this day, my friend.” He pointed toward Oida. “That child needs your attention or she will die. I will stand the battle line with this girl tonight. It will not be the first time I have waged war against her demons.”

  The man relented and leaned on Jebbson, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You speak with an understanding that is older than time itself, my dear Major Garlock. There is a strangeness about your kind that I have often seen. Your years are that of a young sapling, but your wisdom is as ancient as stone. May we all one day attain to that level of glory.”

  Ardon and the injured sergeant departed aboard the shuttle that soon arrived. Sometime later, the recovery team brought Tashi’s body out from the Council Building, having carefully wrapped it in some of the tapestry found there. Jebbson ordered them, “Take Lowenah’s councilor to the surgeons aboard the Divulsion and have them work their wonders on her. When they have been successful, place the Lady in a sealed coffin with a crystal cover and return her to our ship. This way Ardon will be able to mourn her loss, remembering her the way she was.”

  Captain Ricteer approached Darla, who was standing next to Jebbson, saluting. “Colonel, we wish our dead be returned home with us.”

  Darla stood straight, returning the salute. “Captain, take whomever you need to assist you and be about your task quickly. We shall not leave our fellows abandoned to the vulture or the crow.” She then radioed the ships, deploying her Marines to prepare the city for burning. Another shuttle landed and she and Jebbson made ready to leave.

  After placing the Marine captain from the Divulsion in charge, Darla turned to Jebbson. “Will you really risk your soul for me this night? The demon has warred against me all this day, gaining in strength as it reveled in this field of butchery.”

  Jebbson smiled. “There is no demon I fear! The anger and rage of our coming day I will show the beast, and it will cower at what it sees.” He looked around at the quiet desolation and clenched his fists. “The hour is drawing near when the mounds of the dead created by our revenge shall be piled higher than these towers! What wrath was delivered to this place will be repaid a thousand fold upon the heads of our enemy!”

  Some soldiers had gathered up pieces of debris and started a warming fire. Jebbson reached in his pocket and pulled the crumpled note from it. Holding Darla close, he softly commented, “Sometimes it is better to leave letters undelivered so that the living may rest in peace.” With that, he tossed the paper into the blaze, took one more look around at the shattered remains of the city, then turned and, with Darla at his side, headed for the shuttle.

  The tiny ship gently lifted from the ground. Already, in the distance, red fingers of flame could be seen against the darkening sky. In a few hours, there was but one raging inferno.

  News of what happened at Exothepobole would bring the final wakeup call to all men and women who desired freedom. No longer would neutrality assure safety. The hour of decision had now arrived upon all people.

  Although the King’s War was to last for twenty years, the death knell sounded for Asotos’ kingdom on that day. Who he was and what he stood for was openly exposed for all of Lowenah’s children to see. No longer would smooth words and cunning speech hold back the building storm surge that was soon to break upon his world.

  The Age of Indecision had ended…