The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (45 page)

With that, the aged beech groaned as he
lifted high his limbs. He closed his eyes and was suddenly sound
asleep. Ishtar called out several times, but there came no reply.
At last, she hurried away down the trail, her flesh renewed by the
moon’s healing light. Wide awake, the girl wondered as only this
child could wonder, about what new and exciting adventures awaited
her over the next rise.

The trail went on for league upon league,
the ever-night never lifting.
Well, in a dream, time and
distance seem to matter little except to the person experiencing
it.
Adventures? Yes, the girl had many more adventures while
traveling along that narrow twisting trail. Monsters and spirits
aplenty swooped in and down upon Ishtar, sometimes frightening and
chasing her, while at other times befriending and comforting her,
but those are stories for another place and time. There is only one
more account from the child’s dream that need be told here, and it
came when she arrived at the far end of the wooded trail.

The path had become wide and smooth after
rising up through a long ravine onto a forested plain. Most of the
trees here were simple, peaceful folk, many families of pine,
larch, aspen, basswood, and ash. Oh yes, the forest on this plain
was filled with many ash clans. Occasionally the girl would hear
the sleepy voice of an aged tree calling for her to stop a while
and visit, but it was mainly out of politeness not malice, the tree
really wishing to return to its dozing. At times, Ishtar would hear
the cry from a sapling complaining to others about being crowded by
its many siblings. Still, all in all, it was a rather quiet,
pleasant journey through this part of the wood.

The night itself was drawing to a close when
Ishtar finally arrived where the path turned and passed out into a
large grassy glade. The glow of early dawn was only beginning to
appear on the distant horizon when she cautiously stepped out from
the safety of the trees to see if any of the weed folk might be
waiting here for her. After all, if the trees communicated such
great distances to speak with their kin, might not the weed people
do the same? Other than the cool of morning dampness rushing up to
greet her, the girl discovered little more than the soft, mossy
grasses that tickled and soothed her feet.

As she stood there, breathing in the
invigorating earthy scent of growing things, luxuriating in the
touch of those moist grasses on her feet, Ishtar’s gown began again
to radiate its golden glow, casting a haunting light all about her.
She stepped further into the glade, the darkness continuing to flee
from before her advance. With every step, the fear of the weed
people diminished. Soon she was making for the rise at the other
end of the glade, wondering what might await her on its other
side.

Nearing the crest of the long rise, Ishtar
came upon a broken shield, and then a sword, a shattered helm,
trampled ground and several spent arrows. Soon the evidence of a
violent contest flooded the girl’s senses. She shivered in
apprehension, distressed by the feeling that in some way this
destruction was connected to her journey the old troll had
mentioned, but whether it was past or portent, she could not tell.
Afraid, she wanted to return to the safety of the wood, but growing
curiosity forced her feet ever onward until she broke over the
rise.

The further down the other side Ishtar
walked, the greater the destruction around her grew. Ishtar became
so caught up in the unfolding scene about her that she failed to
pay any heed to what might lay ahead. It was not until she had
journeyed some distance down into the narrow valley that the girl
lifted her eyes, shocked to see she was not alone. She gasped in
surprise at seeing a man and woman standing across from each other
in heated argument, a flaming blaze separating the two. Despite the
girl’s glowing appearance, or the excited reaction at first
noticing them, no one paid her any attention. Indeed, it was as if
she was invisible to them, the two so absorbed in their
contending.

The woman Ishtar saw stood majestic in her
nakedness, long, golden hair dancing in the firelight, her face
hidden in shadow except for the angry flames burning in her eyes.
Opposite her was a handsome, clean-shaven man standing a head and a
half taller than the woman, his dark hair shorn close. He wore the
armor of soldier, high-laced sandals, and wide golden bands on his
forearms. Pronounced were two tattoos on the man’s right arm, the
lower one in the shape of an Egyptian cross, and the upper, near
his shoulder, in the likeness of a Roman swastika.

The man and woman were in a heated
discussion, gesturing wildly with hands and fists, their verbal
confrontation so intense, they were paying little heed to anything
else. Wide-eyed, the girl listened in awe, her ears all a-tingle.
Ishtar soon became aware that these two did not argue over the
recent contest, but of wars that had been waged across the
universe, wars of such wild grandeur, the girl could little
comprehend their depth and breadth.

It was during the height of this verbal
onslaught that Ishtar heard her name shouted out, the woman
answering in angry frustration. “There is nothing to win with
Ishtar’s destruction! The battle this day is finished, its outcome
final!” She then pleaded, “Show the child some mercy and I will do
the same for you.”

The man screamed in rage, “
Mercy?!
Mercy?!
She will be begging me for mercy before this day is
finished! And her uncle will curse you to your very face!”

The woman leaned forward, glaring, fists on
hips. She angrily hissed, “Then it shall be! Here is my mercy...”
She paused, and then began to laugh in derision. Pointing a finger
in the girl’s direction, she tauntingly rebuked the man. “A new
power rises. It has waked to fulfill destiny. Be afraid…be
very
afraid…”

Ishtar put a hand to her mouth as she cried
out. The man and woman turned their heads, staring as if surprised
by her presence. At that moment, a sudden explosion of blinding
light flooded the glade as the sun broke over the distant hills.
The girl fell backward, tumbling into nothingness. Terrified, she
screamed, “Mother! Help me!”

The world instantly became dark and silent,
but the girl remained wide-awake. Gradually the darkness fled and
the golden glow of morning returned. At least that was what Ishtar
thought it to be at first. As the fog of sleepy dreams slowly faded
into forgetfulness, she found herself sitting up in her comfy bed,
the golden glow of the crackling hearth fire lighting up her tiny
room, a wick oil lamp on a table near the foot of her bed adding
its merry light to that of the fire.

Looking about the room, Ishtar let out a
relieved sigh. Oh, what strange and horrid dreams! She smiled as
the dreadful chill of earlier visions was swept away by the warm
security of this place. She was finally home - home and in her
little bed, her little room, but the girl puzzled over many things.
How long had she slept? The house was so quiet. Where was everyone?
What time was it? Too many questions! Too many questions for a
child to ponder whose eyes refused to remain opened, whose body
called out to sleep a little more.

Ishtar lay back down, resting her head upon
her soft pillow while pulling the blankets up snugly around her
face. In only seconds, she was fast asleep, dreaming of sweet
breads, jam, her mother’s soft touch and comforting words.

(Author’s Note:
For an in depth account
of Ishtar’s many waking dreams, read the children’s novel,
Carina’s Ger
: The Little Boat’s
Sojourn
by Diana, Queen of Memphis. It is the tale of a
young woman, Carina, who journeys across the Constellation for
which she was named, Carina (Keel). Although listed as a novel, in
reality, it is a fancifully stylized autobiography of events from a
specific time in this person’s life, being written to reach the
minds and hearts of a young audience. It recounts the many awaking
dreams of Ishtar as she slowly roused from the realms of the
shadow-worlds of long sleep.

Asked during a conversation when seeking
material for my book, Ishtar exclaimed, regarding the troll and the
forest, “I do not make that up! They were real! And those trees did
talk to me, really!”
)

* * *

Asotos was furious! Everyone stared at him,
waiting to hear his reply to a most innocent statement. He had been
tricked into doing this. No, it was Erithia’s witchery at work! He
would
never
have fallen prey to such a simple creature, a
fool of a woman
, no less. Trick or not, Asotos knew he was
trapped...trapped into either accepting to finish the moot with
this, this
thing
, or to leave in defeat with nothing to show
for all his efforts except a few of his own dead.

Wait! There was still an opportunity here.
This lowly creature opposing him was incapable of winning this day
if not for the help of the evil witch. He would call Erithia’s hand
publicly, thus forcing her to stay out of the remaining
proceedings. This might work out better than expected after all.
Now he, the
Great Potentate
, would take the reins. What
creature could outwit him, even if it had come from the
netherworld? He laughed at the thought.

While the action was focused on Asotos and
Trisha and their current standoff, the real drama was playing out
in the sands behind Asotos and his lieutenants. Eutychus had used
his army knife to work open the restraining locks, freeing Sirion’s
manacled wrists. Thinking her dead, the man was sitting there,
gently rocking the woman’s upper body in cradled arms, singing out
a sweet lament. He was beginning the second verse when a convulsive
shudder raced through the woman.

Peering close into Sirion’s face, Eutychus
excitedly watched to see if any hope remained for his dear friend.
Suddenly he lifted his head looking over at Trisha, and paying no
heed to protocol, joyously shouted,
“She lives! Our sister is
alive!”

Sirion’s body shook again, she coughing up
bloody spittle. Eutychus busied himself at doing whatever possible
to assist the woman, calling for others to help him. In seconds,
two armed, gray-cloaked troopers had kneeled down beside him,
providing whatever aid they could. His heart racing with
excitement, the man began another song, this one passionate, filled
with hope and promise.

Asotos started to make complaint about this
rude intrusion
, sighting protocol violations.

Trisha extended her arm, palm out. “Hold!
This travesty is of your making! My gunners will not be pacified by
cheap rhetoric and empty speech. I will start my business with you
when we have finished it with them.” She swept her hand in the
direction of some of the prisoners being tended to. “No man… or
woman will be chattel in these negotiations. Shall I tell my people
to open fire, or do we have an agreement?”

Asotos was stunned silent. How was this
happening? This beast-woman was crazy! She was willing to go to war
this very moment, caring not for soul or life. Only Gabrielle had
ever dared stand defiant before. Who was this person to act with
such boldness? Did she not understand who he was, his powers and
majesty, his glory? All that mattered little for the moment. Now
was the time to salvage whatever he could.

Standing straight and frowning, he lifted
his voice in declaration. “We have come in peace. To do the work of
ambassadors has been our only desire. You and your people are out
of line, making these proceedings a giant travesty.”

Trisha leaned back and began to turn her
head to issue commands to her gun crews.

Asotos screamed for her to stop, crying out,
“We shall do as you wish! As you wish...!”

Trisha slowly turned back, lowering her
hand. “Then we shall wait until our people are secured.”

Asotos nodded, motioning with his hands.
“Yes. Yes. We shall wait.” Then he balked, “What of our people?
Where is their release?”

There was a stir among some of the
gray-cloaked troopers, some calling for the heads of Salak and
others.

Asotos called out disapprovingly, “Is there
no
discipline
among your soldiers?”

Trisha smiled, waiting until her people
quieted. “
My
soldiers? Oh, no, these are the Children of
Anteria, survivors of the horror heaped upon that city after
Legion’s devastation of Memphis. No armistice have they ever signed
with your kind. War against the League of Brothers ever rules their
worlds. The ‘Witches of KordianHasur’, your people call them, mad
rabble seeking revenge for lost kindred. Do not raise their ire,
for I fear I will not be able to control what they might do.”

“You are
out of line,
bringing these
rebels to a diplomatic conference!” Asotos yelled. “You…”

Trisha snarled, “
You
are
out of line
for being alive. Should all my soldiers be as
this kind is, we would not have to be here quibbling over
formalities this day.”

Asotos was flabbergasted. The insolence of
this creature was unbelievable! Erithia must be up to her witching
tricks. Pointing at Lowenah, he accused, “All this day you have
used your stolen witchery to cajole my ambassadors, through threat
and intimidation, into surrendering up what was offered freely. I
have tolerated these outlandish actions of yours up until this
moment, but will not abide them any longer.”

He shook his finger, demanding, “Leave us be
by swearing an oath to everyone present that you will desist and
abstain from any further of your interference, in any form or I
shall call these proceedings illegal and void.”