The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (77 page)

Ishtar could feel the drug’s effect rapidly
consuming her body, but her mind was frightfully awake.
“Ple..a..s..e.” She slurred.

Darla smiled. She was used to hard drink, so
the liquid from the bottle had far less effect on her for the
moment. Ishtar was now a captive audience. She would not be
interrupting the conversation all the time, for the elixir dulled
the speech but excited the mind.

Darla looked toward the east, the gray glow
of coming morning just beginning to wake behind distant mountains.
“Long ago you and I stood upon the edge of all things, taking oaths
and making promises. Your oaths made have taken you along many
roads that have finally delivered you to this place. My promises
have delivered me here to you. First is our celebration with what
you call ‘wine’, and wine it is, of sorts.”

She picked up the goblet, watching its
ever-changing glow in the lantern light. “It is the custom of my
people who have common sharing in heart to celebrate a bonding of
flesh and spirit. It is the binding of one’s soul to the other, a
marriage of sorts, yet different in many ways. It is a special
celebration rarely practiced these days. It has been told me that
our ancient festivals were begun and concluded in similar fashion,
the archon and his lady divine performing it in front of the
assembled throngs.”

After a moment of wistful thought, wondering
just how beautiful those celebrations must have been, she
continued, pointing toward the goblet now returned to the table.
“This special wine is very, very rare. Far to the north from here
is a land that is always cold, the ground never thawing except in
the occasional sunlit valley protected from the constant freezing
winds. There, if you search very carefully, you might find a plant
with green, waxy leaves growing among the hillsides’ broken rocks.
If you arrive at just the right moment, about once in a hundred
years, you will find luscious red berries filling the stems under
those waxy leaves.”

“The plant is called the ‘tucklebow’ or
‘century plant’, for that is how often it produces its fruit, which
is called the ‘tucklebow berry’, or ‘blood grape’. For one week in
high summer, for three years passing, the tucklebow produces its
fruits. At the end of the third year, the waxy leaves fall and the
plant goes dormant, not to awake again for ninety-six years. Then,
a year preceding the first of its fruits, the plant will send out
its leaves to build its strength for the following year’s fruited
bounty.”

Ishtar managed to ask, “How old is it?”

Darla looked toward the approaching dawning
and then back at Ishtar. “This is the year of the green, when the
tucklebow puts out its leaves for the first time in many years.
I…”

Ishtar interrupted, surprising Darla who
believed the girl should be in a complete stupor by now. The
child’s constitution - or possibly curiosity- was greater than she
had anticipated. “So…” She asked, “this wine is a hundred years
old?”

“No, dear...” Darla took Ishtar’s hand in
hers. “Please, save your questions for another time. The hour is
late and I have a great deal to tell you.”

Ishtar said nothing, nodding her silence,
letting Darla continue.

“Good. After we departed, I found myself in
a great battle and suffered many wounds that took several months
from which to recover. After this, I went into the cold mountains
in the north and picked the berries that made this wine that you
and I are drinking.”

Ishtar’s eyes bulged with excitement.

Darla held up a hand, cautioning her not to
speak. “I will tell you this, for you do not yet believe me, but
you must. Long have you slept. Many things have changed, your old
world has changed, your governor no longer rules over the city.
Why, so long have you slept that the world no longer remembers the
name of your governor.”

She pointed at the goblet. “Nearly a score
of times has the tucklebow blossomed and slept since I harvested
its berries for you.”

Quickly placing a finger to Ishtar’s lips,
Darla warned the girl not to speak. “You have promised, as have I.
When we are finished, you will have answers to all your questions.
I must continue.”

“Now, possibly, you have guessed that you
have been sleeping a long time, a very long time, for ages as seen
through the eyes of your people. And, yes, this may well answer for
you why your mother has not come to visit, for she too has slept…
is still sleeping.”

Tears welled up in Ishtar’s eyes as she
began to realize the reality of matters. Suddenly, vaulted doors
that long hid the truth shattered, spilling forth all the secrets
hidden within dark foreboding chambers, flooding into her waking
memory. A young lifetime of events, experiences, and emotions raced
through her mind in a blur. The last of her recollections rushed in
upon her, burning like a branding iron with all its maddening
cruelty. She saw a man’s face. It was Treston’s, and she heard her
own words to him. “My God has promised you life if you do his will
this day. I will not risk you or your men harm.”

Then, as though through a long-forgotten
vision, the girl looked over to see her uncle, distraught, and her
mother weeping bitterly. Then her eyes drifted upward to a man
standing high up on a balcony, her ears hearing, “By your own
admission, you have declared your guilt while absolving your uncle
of wrongdoing. This crime of yours cannot go unpunished! The
penalty of death before the ending of this day is the lot cast upon
you.”

Again the girl saw Treston’s face, his eyes
filled with tears, he begging, “My Lady Divine, please forgive this
miscreant for the injury I have caused you! If your god is willing,
I will make compensation for the evils I have committed.”

Little more of those final moments did
Ishtar remember, other than huge dogs knocking her hard to the
ground and… and in the fleeting seconds before black clouds swept
over her, the smile growing on her face and the words uttered in
her mind, ‘I have won! I am become the darkness! Freedom is mine!
No one shall ever take it from me!”

Terrified, the child cried out, “
I am
died
! My world is gone so far from me! My mother?! Oh...my
mother?!” She fell upon Darla’s neck and began a sorrowful weeping.
“I am died! I am died!”

At length, Darla lifted the girl up, holding
her face in cupped hands. She smiled, disagreeing. “No child, you
have slept, slept long and carefree. Beside your mother you have
slept, she resting peacefully next to you. Now you have waked, and
she still sleeps for a little while longer. That is why you are
here, to help bring about her awaking in yet future days.”

The wine of the blood grapes and the weeping
had exhausted Ishtar nearly to the point of collapse. With what
little energy was left, she asked, “Where am I now? What land?”

Holding the girl’s hands to offer support,
Darla softly answered, “You are in the land promised to you so long
ago. Your uncle, Symeon, and friend, John, spoke of it often to
you. Oh yes, they used terms of whimsical splendor to describe it,
they knowing only through visions and dreams at the time. It is
true that the world of your day has passed by and been forgotten,
but the world of men, descendants of your relatives still live. It
is a place far away, but not impossible to reach.”

Though the girl was too tired to speak,
Darla could see the questions in her eyes. She broke into a toothy
smile. “Yes, this is the place that your kind call ‘Heaven’. It is
my home, I being birthed here. You are not all alone. Some of your
closest acquaintances are here with you. The man earlier claiming
to be your uncle is truly him, and so is Hanna who she claims to
be. And John is here, and your friend Paul, and… and so, so, many
others - friends and strangers from your home world.”

Ishtar’s face clouded.

“Yes.” Darla answered. “Treston is here
also, and for very good reasons. A changed man he became because of
you, the governor, too. Long was your name remembered in Ephesus,
so many people did your fearless spirit affect. Your uncle
completed his tasks because of you. To this day, your world suffers
the
madness
of the Christ because of your sacrifices. There
are many
Trestons
in that world, thanks to you, changed
their spots they have.”

After glancing over her shoulder toward the
glow in the eastern sky, Darla lifted the glass. The liquid inside
it was now a thick, opaque, blackish red. “The hour has come.” She
declared. “The marriage feast begins.”

First emptying half the glass, she handed
the rest to Ishtar, who then consumed the remainder. As soon as
each had swallowed the brew, Darla reached her hand around the back
of Ishtar’s head and drew her close, kissing the girl upon her
mouth. Ishtar’s eyes popped open wide, feeling Darla’s tongue slip
between her teeth. She had no time to react because, at that very
instant, the magic potion consumed lifted her away to dizzying
heights beyond the imagination.

Ishtar could feel her very spirit entering
Darla’s mind and opening sealed doors, the woman having no power to
resist the girl. She could feel Darla doing the same with her. It
was as if the two of them were becoming one person, one mind, one
heart, there being no secrets that could be hidden. Each stood
naked before the other.

(
Author’s note:
The private
memories revealed during the celebration of the blood-grape are
sacred to each of its participants. It is not a written law, but
one branded upon the heart. To reveal such secrets would be like
the murder of an innocent soul. When evil entered this universe,
trust subsided, so many of Lowenah’s children being betrayed by
formers lovers turned wicked. Few were there in those dark days who
would risk the wine of the tucklebow for fear of a traitorous
lover.

The love song memories that bonded these two
women on this very special night were not betrayed between them.
Down to this day, their secrets shared belong only to the two,
harbored deep with their hearts. There was one mutual experience
though that came from neither, but from a power beyond the edge of
the universe, a vision so profound that it had to be revealed to
others.)

A rampaging vortex of screaming winds and
explosive, kaleidoscopic colors swept over the women, pitching them
end over end into the ever-darkness of an immeasurable void. When
they came to their senses, the world about them did not exist. They
could feel nothing, see nothing, touch nothing, hear nothing.
Inward they began to fall, further and further from the outside
universe until inward was the only sensation to be had.

It was while tumbling backward into the
inner sanctums that the souls, hearts and minds of the two became
but one being, one person, one thought. When the transformation was
completed they were now become Tereobathos, meaning ‘watcher in the
deep’, or ‘searcher of the expanse’, undefined in being, or
vastness, for no sense of gender sexuality existed here. The world
of Tereobathos suddenly erupted with emotions so powerful that no
mortal could survive the profound ecstasy racing through its mind.
Sight, sound and feeling no longer existed, only an indescribable,
emotional joy.

In this magic world there was no feeling
except that of a never-ending, living energy. Tereobathos learned
it could gather up this energy to make or do whatever it wanted to
do with it. Tereobathos made music, oh, such sweet music! And then
it began to make things, energy things, every kind of thing Bathos
could imagine. Every time Tereobathos made something new, a wave of
erotic sensation flowed over it, but with greater intensity than it
ever experienced when in human flesh.

Time raced ever on, or did it? Tereobathos
soon discovered that time did not exist here. Nothing wore out or
decayed, grew old or sickly. Everything remained as it was at the
beginning of its invention. Tereobathos soon forgot if there ever
was a beginning, for what was seemed to have always been. This
inner energy world went on and on in a never-ending cycle of birth
and rebirth. It was so much fun in this ever-world, so many things
to be discovered, and so many different adventures to go on.
Endless it was to the absolute sense, yet something did not feel
right about it all.

Eventually Tereobathos tired of the sport.
Oh, not because there were not so many other things to do and
create. Every form of living energy it had created, machines of
every shape and size, intelligence, too, many as much so as it was,
but something was missing. What?”

Then Tereobathos began to feel the presence
of a greater Bathos - the Deep One Without Measure - someone much
older. This bathos called itself ‘Olam’, the Everlasting One. From
Olam came the strange, bewildering feelings that took joy away from
the wonderful things abounding in this inner world. Now, the
feelings of Olam were that of what some might call ‘loneliness’,
yet there were no words or thoughts for loneliness, only the
feelings that troubled Olam. Eventually, Olam became very busy at
making other living Bathos - deep ones, Olam bestowing every Bathos
with a special name. In time, countless Bathos played in the fields
of hypnotic energy, easing Olam’s troubling feelings a bit.

In time, Olam began to explore its outer
self, and came to realize that it floated in an empty void of
nothingness, yet the nothingness was something. So Olam discovered
ways to give energy to the countless Bathos, and made bodies for
them that were just like Olam’s own, and cast these countless
Bathos into the void, filling its nothingness with them, shining
spheres of living, immortal energy, the same as Olam.

Together the Bathos played with Olam in this
nothing world, filling the void with all sorts of beautiful
creations, something that pleased Olam very much. And the
Tereobathos - Darla and Ishtar - stared on in amazement as it
watched the unfolding of this immense universe of immeasurable
delights. Still, Tereobathos could feel the loneliness growing
again in Olam, but what could any of the Bathos do, for the bathos
did not feel lonely. Only Tereobathos could understand what
troubled Olam, and Tereobathos could merely watch, unable to do
anything, either.